The Mandolin Case

Well, a rich man writes the book of laws a poor man must defend
But the highest laws are written on the hearts of honest men

R.Skaggs – George M. Green

-From the album Brand New Strings
Ricky Skaggs and Kentucky Thunder

The above lines, from a foremost performer of traditional country music, of the variety known as bluegrass, sprang to mind as I read Dr. Tom Bibey’s new book, The Mandolin Case. Dr. Bibey is, as he describes himself, the only Country Doctor Bluegrass Fiction Writer he knows of. He has written a novel in which dozens and dozens of

Truth in the Mandolin

small-town folks, rich in character and original in voices, work through a legal struggle over the death of a man who loved bluegrass music, his family, his neighbors and his friends. The death of Blinky Wilson launches the story central to The Mandolin Case, but much more is involved here than the unfolding of the basic plot.

Tom Bibey weaves his story with great skill, pacing the action and letting the events unfold in ways that keep you reading to find out what happens next. Along the way, however, the values of honest men, poor in most cases, are tested in legal maneuverings designed to protect the arrogant and powerful. This book resolves that conflict in most satisfying ways. The central figure, Dr. Indie Jenkins, fights a malpractice suit with the help of his friends, some medical professionals, some legal professionals, and a motley assortment of musicians, golfers, fishermen, laboring folk, waitresses and hairdressers. Bibey has fashioned a fictional county, Harvey County, out of his experience and observation, being careful, as he says, to “fictionalize the events to protect privacy and the guilty. However, it is a true story.”

Through the book weaves the thread of bluegrass music, the music of real life for those who are honest, but poor, preserving the values of family, friendship, loyalty to both, and independence of spirit. The music evolved in this country from many threads, following pioneer families down the Appalachians from Pennsylvania and other states, pausing in some places, moving on from others. Their lives were marked by the iron necessities of surviving on subsistence farms, planting crops, harvesting, huddling against winter winds and often burying children, wives and husbands, raising their voices in mournful songs that provided the foundation for Bill Monroe, Lester Flatt, Earl Scruggs and other pioneers of bluegrass in the 1940s and 1950s.

The Mandolin Case pits the heirs of that tradition against forces of corporate wealth and ruthlessness. This struggle and its outcome are the framework of the book; the people themselves, especially those who are “true bluegrass,” as the author often says, are the heroes pitted against those who would break them. The “true bluegrass” do not break. I enjoyed this book very, very much. There are more in the planning, I believe, which gives me a considerable thrill of anticipation.

Gettin’ that Old-Time Music…

…and proving thereby that young folks can be independent and appreciate tradition. A friend’s young son, not yet eighteen, posted on his Facebook page that he is tentatively planning to take his girlfriend to Merlefest rather than to the Prom at his school. Will is a junior dorm student here in Chattanooga, hometown is Greensboro, NC. His father has posted approvingly of his son’s plans and apparently the young lady is enthusiastic.

Will plays the saxophone, not to my knowledge a commonly included instrument in bluegrass, the staple of Merlefest, but on the festival website I see a fairly eclectic assortment of entertainment. And you don’t have to play bluegrass to enjoy it, as I have found, lacking as I do all musical talent.

Another recruit saved from hip-hop and other disasters.

Bluegrass on the River…

…Tennessee, that is. The annual Riverbend Festival in Chattanooga, TN at Ross’s Landing on the river will have Alison Krauss and the Union Station the night of June 12, 2010. I like Alison Krauss very much, but have found the RB festival too big, too hot and too crowded the past several years. In addition, Ms Krauss and company are appearing on the barge dubbed the “Coca-Cola Stage,” moored just far enough from the bank to diminish any act to Lilliputian size, necessitating huge projection screens so the audience can tell what the performers look like.

Riverbend is ten days long and has several other stages. Many acts, some of them new, more old, will appear at these more audience-friendly venues, so the festival is worth checking out for folks younger and more tolerant than I am.

Word of the Day

… courtesy of Merriam Webster, with slight modifications by me:

The Word of the Day for March 07, 2010 is:
exponent • \ik-SPOH-nunt\ • noun

1 : a symbol written above and to the right of a mathematical expression to indicate the operation of raising to a power

2 a : one that expounds or interprets
* b : one that champions, practices, or exemplifies

Felix’s Example Sentence:

Bluegrass music is deeply rooted in the Scots-Irish culture of immigrants to colonial America, seasoned in long migrations down the Appalachians, until the modern amalgam seemed to spring full-blown from the performances of the formidable Bill Monroe, its foremost exponent.

Did you know?

You probably won’t be surprised to learn that “exponent” shares an ancestor with “proponent” — and indeed, the Latin “ponere” (“to put”) is at the root of both terms. “Exponent” descends from “exponere” (“to explain” or “to set forth”), which joins “ponere” with “ex-” (“out”). “Proponent” traces to “proponere” (“to display” or “to declare”), from “ponere” and “pro-” (“before”). “Proponent” can describe someone who offers a proposal (it’s related to “propose,” which also ultimately comes from “proponere”), but today it usually means “one who argues in favor of something.” “Exponent” can also refer to someone who is an advocate, but it tends to refer especially to someone who stands out as a shining representative of something, and in addition it has retained its earlier meaning of “one who expounds.”

*Indicates the sense illustrated in the example sentence.

Dismembered Tennesseans at Nightfall

The Dismembered Tennesseans tonight: Fletcher Bright, Ed “Doc” Cullis, Bobby Martin, Laura Walker and Brian Blaylock. Most all of these folks play more than one instrument, and do vocals, but tonight their instruments were, respectively, fiddle, banjo, guitar, bass fiddle and mandolin. The band opened for the Gibson Brothers, and in typical self-deprecatory humor, Fletcher Bright remarked that opening at Nightfall was their favorite gig, since the audience was always larger when they finished than when they began.

I heard the Gibsons’ music on the local NPR station this afternoon, and would have liked to stayed to hear them live, but we had already put in a full day, so left toward the end of the DMT’s set. It was oh, so good. I have listened to the DMTs for many years, not quite as long as they have been playing – they are a few years older than I, but not much – and this year they sound better than ever. That may partly be true because of my paying closer attention to bluegrass this year, although they have been so good so long they may well be getting better. My attention to bluegrass has increased mostly because of a fellow I met last Spring at the Conference on Southern Literature, Dr. Tom Bibey, who I call “Doc Bluegrass,” because as he describes himself, he is a semi-retired country Doc and twenty-year bluegrass mandolin player.

Because of Doc Bibey, I have revisited bands and performers familiar to me in a casual way for years. Flatt and Scruggs, Doc Watson, Bill Monroe, Ricky Skaggs and many others. I have encountered so many new (to me) acts that my mind boggles. If you do not pay attention, getting most of your music information from broader media, you would not believe the depth, breadth and quality of bluegrass being played nowadays. Children, by my measure, not yet out of high school. Performers who have day jobs but  jam every chance they get and sell self-produced CDs. I will not live long enough most likely to hear all the talent in this field.

The Nightfall concert series is partly sponsored by Fletcher Bright, who has been playing bluegrass violin longer than he has been a real estate professional. He does well at his day job, but watching and listening to him you know where his heart is.

Next weekend another event, over two days, October 2 and October 3, also sponsored by Fletcher Bright, The Three Sisters Music Festival takes place at Ross’s Landing in Chattanooga – another free event. Among others, the Grascals, the Del McCoury Band, the Dismembered Tennesseans (both days) and eight other groups will play from noonish to night.

Songs

Listening to NPR All Things Considered tonight, I heard an interview with Ricky Skaggs, a tremendously successful country music figure who has gone back to his roots the past several years, playing acoustic music flavored with bluegrass.  Ricky Skaggs newest release is  titled, “Songs My Dad Loved.” Most of the interview focused on the background of music that started this man in his long journey through country, crossover success, and back to bluegrass.

Ricky Skaggs woke up one morning at the age of five to find a little mandolin beside him in his bed, a present from his father. According to the account in the interview, Mr. Skaggs taught young Ricky three chords, sang a few songs with him, then went out of town on a job which lasted a couple of months. When the father returned, the son had progressed far enough that Mr. Skaggs went right out and bought a new guitar (the old one had been loaned out to a friend) so that he and his son could make music together. They did so, for the rest of Mr. Skaggs’s life.

Now, a dozen years or so since Mr. Skaggs Sr. died, his son has recorded a number of the songs his father loved to sing. All parts are played or sung by Ricky Skaggs, in tribute to his father. It is obvious in hearing Ricky Skaggs talk about his father that a tremendous bond existed between the two, probably would have done so without the music. But the music made them closer and so influenced the son that in tribute, he has recorded the musical bond that contributed so much to his life.

I must get this CD, I know that. Soon.

Bluegrass Rollin’ on the River

fiddlin' on the river

I’ve been getting educated in matters bluegrass this year, courtesy of Doc Bluegrass, Bibey, that is.

Seeing a card in my mail for a local event, the Three Sisters Music Festival, I recognized some names that are on the Good Doctor’s Approved list, including the Grascals.

With a name like that, I like them already. Must give a listen to them on the internet. And in person two weeks and a few days hence.

The festival takes place in a riverside park with wide expanses of green space, a bandstand, restaurants and shops nearby. Across the Tennessee River another riverside park with a carousel of  hand-carved horses provides more to see and hear, if the music of the festival is not enough.

Looking forward to it. Oh, and I just listened to some samples of the Grascals off their website; if they were any closer in harmony they would be one person. With an awesome voice.

Y’all come.

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.

Musical Irony

I understand that bars and pubs and taverns exist to sell beer and alcohol of all kinds, everything else on the agenda is sales support for adult beverages. And certainly, having done my share, I understand that loud conversation goes hand in mug with serving booze.

None of the above reason and temperate comment helps on a night as we have had, however. Each Sunday night, a shifting group of musicians who love Irish and Gaelic music jam at our favorite neighborhood beer emporium, the Tremont Tavern. No cover, no demands on the audience, just musicians enjoying what they love the best. We love their music, as well. Tonight, two couples at the bar were so engrossed in their loud conversation that we had trouble hearing the acoustic sounds of the Celtic jammers. We eventually moved closer to them, and enjoyed ourselves.

There are two ironies here, since the conversation was so loud, I heard most of what the two couples were saying. They were all very impressed by a band that performed late one night after the big show at Riverbend, the eclectic music festival played out on the Tennessee River at Chatanooga. The Travelin’ McCourys are the sons of Del McCoury, Bluegrass Power, who tour in their own band when not appearing with their father.

The enthusiasm of the folks next to us for McCoury music was a  bit odd since their converstation interfered with some of the root music of Bluegrass. Celtic heritage emigrants carried the bones and foundation of Bluegrass to this country centuries before Bill Monroe and others, including the McCouries, shaped the old harmonies and instrumental riffs into the compelling music that so entranced the two couples at the Tavern. The second irony here is that only applauding the end of each group improvisation by the Celtic musicians interrupted the flow of racous conversation. Why could they not just listen?

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.