Music Generations

At my age looking backwards comes more naturally than looking forwards, except for the influence of my grandchildren, of course. Lately I have noticed other young folks who make me think of the future, and in a good way. Musicians spanning two generations  or more are playing together in bluegrass bands, often involving whole families carrying on traditional music. Given the age of some of the pickers, bluegrass and traditional music, in the South, and in other places, will roll on deep into the 21st century.

Surfing through some old links lately, I see that the music lineup at the Jack of the Wood microbrewery in Asheville for July 4th features The Sons of Ralph, Lewis, that is, Ralph being a mandolin picker well into his seventies, playing with his two sons and others.

Like the McCoury family, apparently the Lewis family will keep bluegrass going on for years yet, maybe into the third generation. The best of old traditions do not die, younger folk just make the tradition their own.

Music à la carte

Between the explosion of digital electronics, the internet and wireless technology, musicians have in the past dozen years been able to make their own audiences. Web pages, song downloads, storage of large volumes of music in small, portable players have set up parallel distribution systems for indie and alternative bands. Some of these developments, principally the internet file-sharing sites, have felt the wrath of the recording industry, seeing their own business model threatened.

I look around Chattanooga, my home town, and every night of the week there are small venues available to bands and singer/songwriters in dozens of locations, covering a wide variety of music. Most will never have the old style major label recording contract, they sell their self-burned CDs, or even better, offer downloads on the internet payable through PayPal or similar services. In many of the places I visit for entertainment, or just a beer, employees jack in their personal iPods into the business-owned sound system, and play mixes they have created themselves from a variety of sources.

I have been amazed recently to see the extent of one type of music, familiar and well-established, but enjoying accelerating growth. Bluegrass enthusiasts gather for jams, festivals and post their thoughts in online websites dedicated to their music.  Young bluegrass musicians are coming along, sometimes mixing other influences into their acoustic compositions. I heard one such youngster this afternoon on NPR; Sarah Jarosz, just turned 18 and releasing a recording. Traditional music of other kinds also prospers, sounding from small clubs and bars on odd nights, sometimes in an open mike setting, sometimes in a regular jam, like the Celtic evening each Sunday night at our favorite place, The Tremont Tavern.

This democratization of the music business, dispersed and decentralized, has made it possible for thousands of musicians to support themselves partly through their music, occasionally not needing day jobs.

I like it.

Bar Band Hell

Late yesterday afternoon, we went to the Tremont Tavern, to listen to a brief performance by a band that would be appearing later at a side stage at Riverbend. The band was backing up a young woman named Shannon Whitworth, from around Asheville, NC, who performed her own songs, bluegrass-flavored roots country with a literate flair. We were looking forward to the show, which turned out to be a promotional idea of the Friends of the Festival, the organizers of Riverbend. Some of the bands appearing at the smaller venues of the festival were persuaded to put in brief appearances at restaurants and bars before they went down to the river.

A few glitches delayed the start of the music, partly due to miscommunication between management and the lone employee out front at the Tavern. In spite of these mischances, the singer and the band cranked up about six o’clock, barely an hour and forty minutes before they had to be miles away in the thick of Riverbend. We were thrilled, as non-riverbend attenders, to hear such a quality of music, however briefly. What we heard was first-rate, although suffering from a sound system which was not quite up to a full band and a solo singer. Not the fault of the group and Whitworth, who soldiered on.

A more annoying problem arose from four braying jackasses at the bar, who were interested only in the golf match playing on the wide-screen television over the bar. Loud conversation punctuated by overloud laughter at their own jokes often drowned out the lyrics of Whitworth’s songs.

Babs felt very concerned for the group, especially Shannon Whitworth, who had responded very kindly to Babs’s enthusiastic greeting when the band arrived. Due to the impromptu nature of this mini-gig, there were no CDs to be bought at Tremont, all the band’s stock being set up at their Riverbend stage.

So this afternoon, I downloaded the CD from iTunes, and am listening now. Very good stuff, with no braying golf jerks in the background. It is a hard life being a musician in venues where happy hour means heavy drinking and raucous conversation.