The Opposite of the Bluegrass Blues...

Have I mentioned that I have fairly recently discovered that I adore bluegrass music? I put it that way, because I am pretty sure I've loved it for a while, I just had this mind-block about liking country (aka country is the best kind of music to not-like...), but I think I was only lying to myself. Cuz bluegrass is amazing.

Yesterday I got to experience two firsts and a wonderful... twentieth? eighteenth? (I'm not really sure actually...) It was my first time at the Black Sheep Inn in Wakefield, my first time seeing (or even ever hearing of) Lake of Stew and my many many many-th time seeing the incomparable Old Man Luedecke.

So The Black Sheep Inn. I've heard tell of its awesomeness via our loverly CBC radio, but had yet to experience it for myself. Now I've been to a lot of new (to me) venues over the past year, from the good (La Sala Rosa, Irene's)  to the okay (the Bronson Centre), the awesome (Raw Sugar), and the pretty awful (I'm sorry Maverick's but your sound quality is just bad!), and the Black Sheep Inn is pretty tops. Sitting down without feeling stuffy (comfy chairs, good sized tables and standing room in back), good food and beer (mmmmm burgers...), not too loud (you can talk without shouting or feeling like you're interrupting the show), good sound (small enough to hear it mostly from the stage, but a good system too), and a great crowd (whom you get the feeling have been putting a shine on the bar for years..) this place is a great location to see live music.  (Elliott Brood there in January- can't wait!)

So last night we started off with Lake of Stew- and a better starter could not have been had! One of those five-seconds-in-you-already-know-you-love-them kind of bands- at least for me, the rest of my table, and most of the audience, judging by the explosive applause (and the first time I have ever seen an opener do an encore!). Bluegrass to the absolute core, this Montreal-based ensemble boasts a wash-tub bass, harmonica, mandolin, banjo (of course), guitar, accordion, kazoo and washboard-percussion-section (you'd think maybe I have a bit of a thing for bands with weird instruments... did someone say Graveyard Train?). With oddly old-timey voices to match their oddly old-timey instruments, these guys really know how to rock out hillbilly style (which, believe it or not I mean as a compliment!). They are so down-home its almost hard to believe they hail from such a big city. Part of that is the feeling that you're just hangin' out in someone's [very big] living room, listening to a bunch of friends improv songs about food, love, and guys who almost were sorta kinda good at track back in high school. I swear they could get an adamant country-music-hater slapping their knee after a song or two- something I will remember in future should I encounter such a person...

Lake of Stew  also just recently recorded an EP with Old Man Luedecke so he joined them for three or four songs at the end (including the aforementioned encore). It was nice to see two bands playing together and feeding off of one anothers' groove (almost like a workshop sessions at the hillside festival)- I wish more bands would do that...

Which brings us to Chris Luedecke- I've actually been seeing him perform for years (almost six years I think?) but he never ceases to impress me. His banjo playing is always astounding, but its his storytelling skillz that bring everything together. Whether its through the lyrics or the best between-song banter you'll ever experience (especially impressive as he is up there all alone...) you'll soon find yourself smiling your face off. Watching him perform is particularly odd for me as I often get flashbacks (I tried to think of a different word to use there cuz that makes me sound like I'm in some sort of horrible superhero tv show, but alas it is the only one which seems to appropriately describe them...) to the first time I heard him play whichever song he is about to perform. I was there for so many of the "This is the first time I've played this at a show" times that it feels like I've been watching his journey as an artist... I know that sounds super sappy, and I am a little embarrassed at having written it, but Chris is just so adorable (and amazingly talented and friendly etc etc etc) that its difficult to not get a little soppy when talking about him.

There's just something about the simplicity and the, lets face it, friendliness, of bluegrass that really gets to you, especially when you consider its actual complexity, and sometimes deceptively serious subject matter. If you're one of those people who finds themselves sitting on the 'I Hate Country/I Tap My Foot to Johnny Cash' fence, check out Lake of Stew or Old Man Luedecke in concert and I all but guarantee you'll find yourself in a field of  'I Love Bluegrass'

Lyrical Musings on Musical Classifications or "What it means to like country"

CBGB stands for Country, Bluegrass, Blues. Seriously now, who would have guessed that? I mean obviously if you're a CBGB fan you would almost certainly know it, but most people who have only a cursory knowledge of CBGBs as a former rock club in New York City (arguably THE former rock club in New York City), I think would be surprised to learn that name of the legendary local has nothing to do with Rock and everything to do with Country...

I used to be one of those people who likes "all kinds of music... except for country and rap." Which was complete bollocks because 1) People who say they like 'all kinds of music' are usually the same people who can't name three of their favourite bands, and I am most definitely NOT that kind of a people, 2) I actually do like some rap, particularly 80s era rap, and I'm not sure that this is the best example of 'rap' music as we define it nowadays, but The Fresh Prince of BelAir was one of the first songs I ever knew all of the lyrics to, and 3) I totally do like country. My teenage-self would hit me over the head with a two by four for even thinking of uttering that sentence, but it does not make it any less true. I actually love country music.

I don't really know when or how it happened, but it happened. Hard core. (Okay not THAT hard core, because I only like a very specific kind of country music (CBGB one might say...) and still have a very viscerally unpleasant reaction to pop country- you know, the my-girlfriends-stole-my-truck-and-ran-over-my-dog-on-the-way-to-go-marry-her-cousin kind of country... or the I-got-nothin-to-say-but-gee-don't-I-sound-real-perdy kind. no good. borderline offensively bad.)  And this is what I love: banjo music. Johnny Cash music. washboards and wagon trains and tumbleweeds music. Hells my current favourite band (Elliott Brood  of course) boasts two banjos a harmonica and a slide guitar and has more than one song about a wagon train (as does Graveyard Train, another current love- though they also play chains, washboard and stand-up bass...)

(I swear this will relate back in a moment so bare with me) I recently saw Dan Mangan in concert and have since fallen in love with his song Road Regrets, particularly one stanza which goes, and I quote: "and rob he likes his country tunes. it’s never been the lens that i see through. but i guess driving for a week or two puts words in your mouth. so find dodge and then get out of it. it’s about as country as i get"

though arguable not 'country at all' the video for Road Regrets has 

numerous similarities to Elliott Brood's video for Second Son

It captures something about country that I have up till now had difficultly grasping- that it is a lens rather than just a sound. I may love the banjo and the hitting-objects-with-wooden-spoons, but its the storytelling that gets me, more specifically the way in which a country-song story is told (both lyrically and with the music...). Its the narrative and the music working together to create the imagery, to create the story, to create the world of the song... So despite my best intentions, it actually is the my-girlfriends-stole-my-truck-and-ran-over-my-dog-on-the-way-to-go-marry-her-cousin that I love. As long as its more about wagon trains and less about soap operas set in backwater Texas...

Sorry sixteen-year-old-me, I just can't help it- I loves me a good yarn.



Road Regrets by Dan Mangan
we’ll drive until the gas is gone. and then walk until our feet are torn. crawl until we feed the soil. film the whole thing. it’s all business in the left hand lane. drive there and then drive back again. escape can’t be the only way to escape. so i’ve gotten used to coffee sweats. still getting used to road regrets. hell, i took you up on all your threats to leave. it’s a shame, it’s a crying shame. and ain’t it always the way that takes you back to from where it is you came. and rob he likes his country tunes. it’s never been the lens that i see through. but i guess driving for a week or two puts words in your mouth. so find dodge and then get out of it. it’s about as country as i get. see you ain’t living until you’re living it. not dead ’till you die. but watch out for the paraphrase. for they will crown you then they will take your legs. see the cost is more than what you get paid. but do it anyway. it’s a shame, it’s a crying shame. and ain’t it always the way that takes you back to from where it is you came.

Tiny Chipmunks, Tiny Chipmunks Inside of My Heart

So at Folkfest last night I had an experience which has become strangely familiar to me over the course of the past few months- that of falling completely in love with the band playing on stage. At times its with a band I already adore (I am not sure that I am actually capable of explaining how much I feel about Elliott Brood...) or one I have never even heard of (hi Graveyard Train. Yes. You are crazy awesome.  Mostly Crazy. But also Awesome.) but it is a feeling that can be topped by very few things in life. Actually that statement is mostly assumption, as I am simply guessing that seeing your kid for the first time ought to feel better than falling in love with a band, but I would also not be surprised if it felt exactly the same... that's how much I love this feeling.

The most recent subject of my adoration (type two, the "never before heard of them" kind) is Punch Brothers. Its the mandolin, its the banjo, its the low voices, their olde tymey suits and their charming ways that combine to make a magical wonderfullness that makes me so excited that I sprinted from one end of the grounds to the complete opposite corner (in the middle of their set) to purchase a CD, then ran all the way back, missing only one song ( Rye Whiskey is a perfect example of a song of theirs that elicits such a response from/in me...).

And its not just an idea, its not just a feeling, its an actual physical response. I was trying to explain to El what I meant by that and this was the best I could do- their songs make me feel like there are tiny chipmunks running around inside of my heart. Like their little tiny hands are kneeding the inside of my chest, hugging and tugging at my heart strings. Crawling around in there like its where they belong, like they always live there, only they don't let me know it unless they're really really happy. I don't know if that makes any sense at all, but its exactly what it feels like, and it feels both wonderful and super weird all at once. It came out of my mouth, this explanation, and it seemed the only and most perfect time I have ever described the feeling.  And its a feeling I've had before. Its a feeling I've had about music (about certain bands or certain songs) for quite a while. About Sam Roberts, about the White Stripes, about the Decemberists and the Shins, but recently very often about Elliot Brood, Old Man Leudecke, Dry River Caravan and Graveyard Train. And so I found myself suddenly wondering; how why and HOW did it take me so long to realize that I love adore and LOVE bluegrass music!?! 

I am happy being someone who likes many different types of music (I would never say "I like all kind of music" cuz to me that's just something someone says if they don't really like music at all...) , but I always used to add the caveat "but not country, never country"- and that made me happy, I was ok with that as my definition of my sphere of music-liking. Except that it was never true. Big Wreck takes a lot from country, as did CCR, and The Lovin' Spoonful- all favourite bands of my youth. The first time I saw "Oh Brother Where Art Thou?" I did nothing but listen to the soundtrack for weeks... 'Jackson' by Johnny Cash has also been known to lodge itself into my skull and not let go... and don't even get me started on banjo- oh banjo! the most inexplicably sexy and wonderful instrument on the planet.

So I'm giving up another part of who i thought I was, taking on yet another thing that the teenage me would have not only scoffed at, but quite possibly never-spoken-to-me-again over- I no longer hate country music. Pop Country- the Carrie Underwoods and the Kenny Chesneys of the world- is still safely outside of my sphere of like, but prog-bluegrass, death-country and alt-country? I likes em. There I said it. How can I not admit to liking that makes my tiny heart chipmunks so happy?