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Cleaned garage

The satisfaction of a well-cleaned garage

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I’ll admit it right up front:  it is weird but few things satisfy me like my twice-yearly garage cleaning ritual. There is a joy in realizing that you don’t really need all the junk you’ve stuck in every nook and cranny over the past six months. I like clearing the cobwebs metaphorically and physically.

So I was looking forward to digging in the mounds of trash today (i.e., Andrew’s boxes crammed with junk he’d “packed” before coming home from college for the summer).

Normally I do this project all by myself. I plug in the earphones, turn to the Americana playlist, get in the zone with The SteelDrivers or Tedeschi Trucks Band, and wrap it all up three or four hours later.

But this year Candice said she wanted to help. Hmmm. That could be great. Or not.

Candice and I had been married for 2-3 years when we began working on the first historic house we renovated together. Not knowing that much about the other partner, we decided to “share” the work. Bad idea.

I was never able to take all the paint off the baseboards in a way that satisfied Candice’s sense of detail. Her speed in stripping the old wallpaper off could best be described as glacial. We snipped at each other, and it looked like we were headed toward joining that great list of couples who began renovating a house and end up in divorce court.

Luckily – on all sorts of levels – we quickly decided that I was “big picture” and Candice was “detail” and we’d divide the work along those lines. She could strip those baseboards until the cows came home while I could pull down wallpaper with abandon in room after room.  It got us through two completely renovated houses, so we knew it worked. Ever since, when we have a job to do together we try to divide the work accordingly.

I was worried that with both of us involved with the garage,  today’s cleaning project was going to get bogged down in a discussion of whether to keep that old oil lamp that her brother gave us. (On that part, I was right. It did get bogged down over that item. I lost. The lamp stayed.) But I started the project first, began in one corner, and got into my Zen state before Candice came down and began on the opposite end by going through Andrew’s boxes.

And I was on a roll. I went without the earphones and music today, so I was in the moment, “doing one thing at a time” (which is a simple definition of Zen.) Chop wood.  Carry water. (Candice will faint when she reads the first part of this paragraph.) We started at 11 in the morning, and I looked up at 1:30 in the afternoon and “my” side was finished and looking pretty damn good.

Then I lost my way.

After lunch I moved over to help Candice with “her” side. (I’d only made the distinction when I realized that I was going to complete the side where I began hours before Candice wrapped up her work.) And that’s where the troubles began.

We’re the only family I know that has two perfectly good desk chairs that sit unused in our garage. We also have two old chairs that we bought at auction from the old Masonic temple in Staunton which – if I were a betting man – I’d bet will never hold a person in them again. They all stayed. We have more picture frames than the Frame Gallery. Books…don’t get me started on books! I’m the main culprit in terms of acquisition but I will get rid of books that have little or no chance of ever being cracked again by anyone on the face of the earth. Suffice it to say, we have a lot of books in our garage.

All of these things are being held for a mythical “second house” that we’re going to buy sometime in the future.  Our 89-year-old neighbor came over to check on our progress and when Candice mentioned that we were holding some of these items for a second home, he replied, “Oh yeah, our house in Rehoboth is chock full of our stuff.  Every closet is packed with old pictures.”  Candice thought this was a great idea. You can’t make this stuff up!

But I quickly gained my equilibrium, and we plowed through to the end. Because we have so many pictures, we now have the children’s grade school art work hanging in the garage. Claire – whose total contribution to this project was to empty the dishwasher this morning – saw the pictures hanging on the wall and said she thought it looked dumb. I told her we did it to embarrass her when she brought friends in through the back door. She thinks her parents are screwy. I think we’re pretty clever in that Candice and I figured out a way to work together and get a laugh out of the process.

So now the garage is cleaned for another six months. The boxes in the left part of the picture that appear to be out-of-place are actually Gourmet magazines waiting to be taken upstairs to be added to Candice’s collection that goes back to the 1960s. (I kid you not.) And Candice and I – while sore as hell – are basking in the satisfaction of a well-cleaned garage.

And how did Claire’s day work out, you ask? After the strenuous work on the dishwasher, she went to a movie, lunch with two friends from grade school, and now she’s out with a friend from Pomona at a Rascal Flatts concert at some place called Jiffy Lube Live. (You really can’t make this stuff up!) Andrew just sent me a message from Barcelona, saying he’s found the city he wants to live in.

My kids just think they live the good life.  Ha!  I have a well-cleaned garage.

More to come…

DJB

Image: The garage, with everything in its place.

Remembering Don

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Temple House of Israel in Staunton VA

Temple House of Israel, Staunton, VA

It is the kind of email you never want to receive: a long-time friend was injured in a serious car accident on Monday. Wednesday he was taken off life support. Funeral on Friday.

So Candice and I left early this morning to drive the three hours to our old Shenandoah Valley home of Staunton to remember Don, mourn his death which came too early, and celebrate his life with his wife Ruth, son Philip, and many other friends.

The service began in the beautiful Temple House of Israel, designed in 1925 by Staunton architect Sam Collins in the Moorish Revival Style. The haunting Jewish melodies sung by a trio of women rolled around the wood, plaster, and tile interior.

Rabbi Joe Blair nailed Don in the eulogy.  There was much laughter and more than a few tears.

Don was one-of-a-kind.  He loved telling jokes while sitting around a table filled with wine, food he had cooked, family, and friends. I had my first pomegranate one evening after Don sliced the fruit and passed it around for all to enjoy. I can still taste the wonderful garlic from Don and Ruth’s table.

Don loved classical music, so I was surprised one evening when I walked in his house and heard the David Grisman and Andy Statman Songs of our Fathers CD coming through the speakers. We began talking about the Jewish melodies and mandolins and one thing led to another.  All of a sudden Don announced that he had gone to high school with Dr. Banjo!  “You’re kidding,” I replied, “You went to school with Pete Wernick?” Yep, said Don, matter-of-factly. Then he proceeded to talk some bluegrass for a while.  As the rabbi said today, Don had an amazing ability to remember a sometimes annoying amount of information – even for music that would have been obscure for most Jewish kids from Brooklyn.

Don loved his family and teaching.  The rabbi told stories today to illustrate both. When Ruth was losing her hair in a successful battle with cancer, Don told her not to worry because he had married her, not her hair. When asked how long he had been married, Don would invariably reply, “Not long enough!”  Don also loved his physics students at JMU, “except for those pre-med students who were only taking physics because they had to.” In those cases, Don would say “I saved a lot of lives by failing them.”

Don died much too young, but by being an organ donor he gave the gift of life on Wednesday to another patient at the University of Virginia medical center.  That’s not the only way his life continues, but it was a comforting thought today.

Rest in peace Don. You lived a good life and have a whole community you touched in ways you could have never realized.

More to come…

DJB

You Know Your Team Has Had a Rough Day…

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You know your team has had a rough day when the President’s Race is the best thing on the “Nats Highlights” reel at the end of the day.

Yes, Thomas Jefferson wiped out George, Abe, and finally Teddy with a series of pretty impressive body checks before crossing the finish line at the head of the pack. But on a beautiful Father’s Day in Washington, the home-standing Nationals couldn’t match  Tom’s effort and come up with the timely hits they needed.  Unfortunately, they also  made a couple of uncharacteristic blunders that led to a 4-1 Yankees win and a sweep of the weekend series.

But I was enjoying the weather, the sell-out crowd…and my daughter Claire. So all-in-all it was a pretty wonderful day.

And as is true with any day at the ballpark, you’ll always see something you’ve never seen before.

Today (besides Tom wiping out Teddy just before the finish line), it was fun to watch 19-year-old phenom Bryce Harper rap out a double…

…and then spend the next minute or so chatting with first-ballot Hall-of-Famer Derek Jeter on second base. I don’t know if they had met before (Harper was 0-7 in yesterday’s 14-inning marathon, so I know Harper and Jeter didn’t run into each other on the base paths in that game). The body language of the two seemed to indicate that they were taking advantage of the moment to introduce themselves. A friendly pat on the rump from Harper as Jeter headed back to short and Jeter’s returning the gesture with a small wave of his glove led me to believe that the respect was flowing both ways.

So even with a loss, the Nats remain in first place by 4 games. If you had told me our Nationals would go 6-3 in the first 9 games against the American League East, and would be leading their division on Father’s Day, I’d have taken it in a heartbeat. Enjoy a couple of other photos from a beautiful Father’s Day.

More to come…

DJB

Doc Watson, R.I.P.

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Doc Watson, who passed away today at age 89, was among the most authentic, talented, and influential musicians to emerge from the 60s folk music revival.

He was also the reason I play guitar, attempting to flatpick fiddle tunes or pick out a lead note or two on traditional bluegrass and country songs. Of course, I have to get in line behind tens of thousands — if not more — guitarists who would make the same claim.

So read the New York Times story I’ve linked at the top of the post if you are looking for Doc’s history, background, and influence.  This is a personal post.

I was in high school in the early 70s, learning to play guitar and noodling around with music by singer songwriters and their ilk.  Then one day I brought home this funny looking album — Will the Circle Be Unbroken — and my life was changed forever. Here’s how I described that moment in a More to Come… post in 2009:

“In fact, I suspect that the first two songs on side two clinched the deal (i.e., hooking me as a life-long lover of this music).  I had heard a bit of the blind singer and guitarist Doc Watson over the previous year or two, but no one – before or since – quite captures the beauty of Doc’s guitar and the wonderfulness of his spirit the way producer William McEuen did on the Circle album.  Side Two opens with Doc doing a terrific version of Tennessee Stud that became a signature piece for him for many years.  Then he follows it with a version of Black Mountain Rag, where Doc flatpicks the old-time fiddle tune on guitar and shares the solo spotlight with master fiddler Vassar Clements.  By the end of that track my jaw had dropped and I was hooked.”

I began buying every Doc Watson album I could lay my hands on, and I still have essentially every new album he produced over a career that began in the 1960s and lasted into the second decade of the 21st century. (I didn’t need to buy the compilations or collections, because I had all the originals.) I had Doc as the folkie phenom, Doc and a very young and shy Merle when his son joined him on the road, Doc in Nashville, Doc with Chet, Doc with Dawg. Hell, if Doc played with someone, I had it.

And for a long time, Doc’s rich repertoire of American music was mine. In those pre-internet/YouTube days, I never nailed the great Travis-style picking of Deep River Blues, but it wasn’t for a lack of trying. * My picking on Black Mountain Rag has deteriorated some with age, but I sure played that tune enough, moving the needle back time and time again, until I could work through that flashy lick that wraps up the last section of the tune. I learned about the Delmore Brothers, Jimmie Rodgers, and so many more of the pioneers of American southern/country music from Doc.

I quickly decided I had to have the guitar that Doc played, so I saved up my money, traveled 30 miles out in the country to Wartrace, Tennessee, and bought a G-50 Gallagher guitar — the same model that Doc played on so many of his recordings and live shows. It remains among my most important possessions.

And I also started looking for chances to hear Doc and Merle play live. My first experience — at the Exit/Inn in Nashville in the mid-1970s — remains among my most memorable musical experiences. The place was packed, and I was near the front with some college friends, all clutching our flat picks. To hear that voice and to see the musicianship in its prime was sublime. Over the next four decades I saw Doc perform countless times, with all sorts of musicians.  The last time was just last month, when he made an appearance at Merlefest, the festival he helped found following Merle’s death. The picture below shows Doc with New Grass Revival founder Sam Bush at Merlefest 2012. The respect everyone had for Doc could be seen in Sam’s playing. A monster player who loves to rock and roll, Sam always toned it down and played the traditional licks that worked with Doc’s style and sensibilities.

Doc’s music is well documented on YouTube.  And while often cited for his pioneering work as a flatpicker, Doc was also a terrific finger-picker.  This first video shows a young Doc Watson as he appeared when he first hit the “folk scare” (as he would laughingly call it in later life), playing one of his signature arrangements, the Delmore Brothers’ Deep River Blues.

From there, I’ve posted a video from the early 1980s, before Merle’s death in 1985. Doc and Merle are joined by long-time bassist and companion T. Michael Coleman in John Hurt’s classic Make Me a Pallet on Your Floor.

Doc was an inspiration to countless guitarists, and you can see his influence in this video with Tony Rice, Dan Crary, Jack Lawrence, and Steve Kaufman.

Rest in Peace good Doctor.  You were one of a kind and we were all blessed to have you with us for so long.

More to come…

DJB

*UPDATE: In my gap year, I did finally learn how to Travis pick Deep River Blues!

By a neck

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There are only three times a year when my wife’s sports knowledge trumps mine: the three times we sit down together to watch horse racing’s Triple Crown.

When the topic’s baseball, basketball, football, hockey – it really doesn’t matter – we can talk about a game but I know that Candice is just being kind in carrying on the conversation. She would much rather discuss food, cooking, the spiritual life, architecture…pick a topic.

But I’m delighted to see her anticipation rise as post time draws near. There’s a good chance I’ll learn something new.

Candice grew up around thoroughbred racing and the sport comes naturally to her. As she wrote in the obituary for her father, Dr. Andrew C. Colando:

While in high school Pop began to race trotters at Yonker’s Raceway in New York on the weekends and his love affair with horse racing began.  He moved on to thoroughbred racing when his father bought some race horses.

 In 1950 he married Irene Holsey and his 58-year love affair with my mother began.  A few years later they moved their young family to Florida seeking a warmer climate, for this young veterinarian didn’t like the cold and did most of his work outside.  This began what our family called “The Great Migration” – Monmouth Park and the Jersey shore in the summers and Gulfstream, Tropical, and Hialeah Parks and Florida in the winters.  It was a good life.

A veterinarian for thoroughbred race horses, Dr. Colando taught his daughter well. He knew quality horses, having once trained the 1951 Kentucky Derby favorite Uncle Miltie. In fact, Life magazine did a photo spread of Uncle Miltie that never ran once the horse was injured. Both photos with this post are from the Life archives, and my mother-in-law has a number of the originals.

This is a long introduction to the story of this post. Yesterday’s Preakness Stakes was certainly one of the most exciting horse races I’ve ever seen. Joe Drape in the New York Times has a great report, which makes you feel you’re riding with the eventual winner, I’ll Have Another, as the horse overtook the favorite Bodemeister.

As Smith and Bodemeister bounded out to an easy lead under leisurely fractions of 1 minute 11.72 seconds for six furlongs, Gutierrez didn’t look too smart.

He was spotting Bodemeister too many lengths — or at least that was what Smith thought. “I had slowed down the pace and had plenty of horse,” Smith said.

Even I’ll Have Another’s trainer, Doug O’Neill, was worried. “I was concerned, but Mario was keeping him in the clear,” he said.

As Bodemeister led the field of 11 into the far turn, Gutierrez and his colt cut inside and got behind Creative Cause, who had been tracking in second place. Still, Bodemeister’s trainer, Bob Baffert, was not worried. He thought Smith was sitting on a monster.

“I felt really good where he was,” Baffert said of Bodemeister. “It looked like he was traveling nicely.”

In an instant, Gutierrez dropped his reins and put his head down to urge on his colt. I’ll Have Another rounded the turn as if fired from a slingshot. When horse and rider hit the quarter pole, I’ll Have Another squared his shoulders and took aim at Bodemeister, who was gliding down the stretch as if on a conveyor belt.

Atop I’ll Have Another, Gutierrez knew something extraordinary was about to happen. He was flush with the feeling that he was merely a passenger on a winged horse.

“No one put him in this race,” he said with a mix of appreciation and disbelief. “He put himself into the race.”

In the stretch, I’ll Have Another was unleashing one ground-gobbling stride after another. The distance between him and Bodemeister was narrowing in a hurry.

But Candice — my astute observer of horse racing — had spotted this in the first turn.  Shortly after the horses broke from the gate, she asked, “Which one is the purple horse?” I answered, “That’s I’ll Have Another.” She said quietly, “He’s having a great ride.”

Mind you, they hadn’t reached the second pole. I’ll Have Another’s amazing stretch run was still to come.

I sometimes hate it when Candice is right, but this time it was fun to see how it all unfolded. We’ll go back to Drape’s report:

The no-name jockey asked. The great horse answered. I’ll Have Another reached Bodemeister’s throat latch two strides before the wire. He was by him on the next one.

And just like that we had a chance at a Triple Crown winner.

Three weeks from now you’ll know where to find us: doing whatever we can to find a television set so we can watch the Belmont. And Candice will, no doubt, give me an early leg up on understanding what I’m seeing.

I’ll Have Another indeed!

More to come…

DJB

Hot Stuff at the Ballpark

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Every baseball game has a better than 50-50 chance of showing you something you’ve never seen before. After yesterday afternoon’s “Hot Stuff” game, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Yes, I played hookey from work yesterday afternoon to catch a day game with a friend at Nationals Park.  (Question:  can it be hookey if  you tell your boss and your assistant…and wear blue jeans to work with a Strasburg t-shirt underneath your regular shirt?) When I chose that game from my season ticket pool, I had no idea that Stephen Strasburg would be pitching!

It was a muggy and overcast day, and I arrived just in time to see three Nats stand in left field and let a routine fly ball from the first Padres hitter  fall between them for a “double.” (Where is truth-in-scoring?  That was an error. Just assign it to someone and get over it.)  Jeez, these guys are in first place? But that was just the beginning.

Stephen Strasburg (he of the miniscule ERA and over-powering stuff) looked uncomfortable from the get-go.  He walked around.  He messed with the rosin bag. And when he gave up a couple more “hits” and stood on the mound while a deluge hit the ballpark, he looked like he would prefer to be anyplace else.

We all ran for cover as the rain pelted the field.  The umps – with two men on, two men out, and the count 3-2 – finally called for a rain delay. Strasburg and his teammates headed to the shelter of the dugout. The grounds crew pulled out the tarp.

And just like that, the rain stopped. Eight minutes later, Strasburg was back on the mound.

That was first-time experience #1: shortest rain delay I’ve ever seen.

But Strasburg still looked uncomfortable. And with a 3-2 count, you knew a fastball was coming. It did, it went back out to the outfield as a hit, and just like that the Nationals were down 3-0.  They never recovered, and even though Bryce Harper hit his second major-league home run, it was pretty much a blowout as the Padres took a 6-1 win.

I wrote it off as a fun afternoon, even with the oppressive humidity and the loss. But last night I learn what may have caused Strasburg’s discomfort.

Hot Stuff ointment!

I’ll let CBS Sports pick it up from here:

Washington Nationals pitcher Stephen Strasburg is known for bringing the heat and he did it again Tuesday in D.C. But it wasn’t a 100 mph fastball – it was a penetrating cream that apparently “got to the wrong place.”

The ace pitcher was roughed up by the light-hitting San Diego Padres and according to manager Davey Johnson, Strasburg wasn’t feeling too great on the mound. That’s because some his Hot Stuff ointment — a cream used by athletes to loosen up — accidentally ended up on the wrong part of the body.

“It was on his shoulder and evidently — I don’t know how it got to where it got, but it was uncomfortable, to say the least,” Johnson laughed.

Strasburg wasn’t laughing. “I’m going to keep that in the clubhouse,” he said when asked about the ointment mishap.

As the Washington Post’s Adam Kilgore notes, it’s possible the rain caused the Hot Stuff to trickle down to a part of the body where the ointment is not intended.

First-time experience #2: Star pitcher undone by analgesic ointment.

As Thomas Boswell noted in this morning’s column, the Nationals’ “blight of physical maladies finally reached total absurdity.”  Of course, this being Washington, the whole thing was given a “gate” suffix, and Ointment-gate was officially born. Teammate Michael Morse has been quoted as saying it never happened, but hey…let us have some fun after a loss.

So many years from now, when I’m sitting at the ballpark with a grandson or grand-daughter, I can laugh and tell the story of how a hot-shot star pitcher was done in by Hot Stuff – and I was there to see it!

You can’t make this stuff up.

More to come…

DJB

Remembering Merlefest 2012

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A week ago I was sitting under the North Carolina moon listening to Sam Bush, Derek Trucks, and a host of talented musicians at the 25th anniversary of the Americana music festival Merlefest.

Today was back to reality.  At 6:30 this morning I posted the following status on my Facebook page:

“What kind of airline doesn’t know where their planes are? Waiting at a United gate for a flight to Chicago that was to leave 10 minutes ago. The gate agents say a plane is being towed from the hangar. I just heard the pilot calling someone asking, “Can you tell me where our plane is? The gate agents don’t seem to know.” Welcome to the Third World.“

I made my meetings in Chicago (in spite of the plane in hiding) and came back to DC without incident, but tonight seemed to be a very good time to breathe deeply, take it easy, and reflect on Merlefest 2012.

This year was my fifth Merlefest, and it was – by a good measure – the best one of the five.  As always happens, I heard bands and musicians who were new to me.  I heard old favorites who can still wow a crowd.  And I saw some of the best musicians in the country (not just in this genre) playing together in configurations that surprise and delight.

So here are a few specific memories:

Band that had the best Merlefest:  This would be The Steel Wheels (top of post), who took the crowd by surprise on the Cabin Stage on Thursday evening and didn’t let go until they left town after three strong performances to large and appreciative crowds.

Bittersweet moment: For me, this came when 89-year old Doc Watson – the patriarch of the festival – came on stage Saturday night with long-time collaborators T. Michael Coleman (left of Doc in the picture above) and Sam Bush (on Doc’s right) and other musicians for a celebration.  Doc was clearly having trouble keeping up, but he hung in like a trooper.  The crowd was showering him with love, while Michael and Sam were keeping a kind eye on the good Doctor.  However, when John Cowan sang Don’t That Road Look Rough and Rocky for Doc and his wife Rosa Lee, Doc was visibly moved – which led me and others to shed a tear as well.  There will be future Merlefests when Doc’s no longer around, but they won’t be the same.

Best jazz quintet masquerading as an acoustic string music band: The Punch Brothers (two photos above) are an incredible ensemble – all strong musicians led by the other-worldly Chris Thile. I don’t pretend to understand all they have going on in their music, but I was more impressed live than I expected.  I’ve been among those fans mourning the old Nickel Creek days for Thile, but this is a wonderful band that moves as one. Is there anything they can’t do?

Musician having the most fun:  Claire Lynch, shown above dancing with bassist Mark Schatz.  Claire’s show started with a bang and she seemed to smile through the entire set. The audience responded with great enthusiasm, and her band — a terrific group of musicians — kept the energy going strong all the way through her traditional closing number, The Wabash Cannonball.

Best band reunion: It was great to see the original lineup of Bela Fleck and the Flecktones onstage at Merlefest. Howard Levy was always a strong component of the early Flecktones sound, and he didn’t disappoint in the reunion set.  This was a band that wasn’t focused on the past, but had new material to showcase as well.

Best musical moment: Everyone who saw Friday night’s set of the Sam Bush Band was buzzing about it the rest of the weekend.  I certainly wrote about it late that evening. Sam and the band had a great opening, but when they brought out Derek Trucks, his wife Susan Tedeschi, John Cowan, and Bela Fleck it was magical.  Luckily, there’s a great video of the entire set of three tunes on You Tube.  Take a look at Sam Bush’s face at about 2:06 when Trucks plays an amazing lick.  That’s how everyone felt.

Thanks for the memories, guys!

More to come…

DJB

UPDATE: Doc Watson would pass away just a month after playing at Merlefest 2012. It was his last public performance.

Oh Happy Day! – Merlefest 25 wraps up

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Sunday is “Go to Meeting” day in the South, so it figures that the final day at Merlefest has a heavy gospel flavor.

But because it is Merlefest – and therefore eclectic – you have your choice of shape-note singing, bluegrass gospel, Sunday blues (which should appeal to the non-believers and sinners alike), and black gospel.

I opted for the black gospel sound this year, mostly by default.  (Not surprisingly, I was “late” for church because I slept in after a night of the blues with the Tedeschi Trucks Band.)

But the Lord moves in mysterious ways.  And with the Benedict College Gospel Choir (photo at top of post) the Lord definitely moves!

By the time I arrived, the choir had an enthusiastic crowd at the Watson Stage swaying and singing to that gospel standard Oh Happy Day!  There was testifying by some of the best voices of the weekend (and that’s saying a lot).  It was the perfect way to kick off Day Four – the final day – of Merlefest 25.

The only band I saw all weekend that could hold its own with the Gospel Choir in terms of getting everyone to their feet was Scythian (above), and luckily they followed on the Watson Stage.  This is a band that blends all sorts of roots music together – one reviewer said the band brings first-generation authenticity to their unique hodgepodge of Irish, Celtic, klezmer, and gypsy influences. Whatever their influences, they bring tremendous energy that is “hard-kicking” and infectious.  It was barely past noon and the joint was jumping.

I left the Scythian set early because I wanted to catch Sarah and Christian Dugas at the Americana Stage. I last heard Sarah Dugas (above) at Merlefest as the lead singer for The Duhks, where they were tearing down the Dance Tent with an incredible version of Whole Lotta Love.  On Saturday, Sarah was the primary lead singer for the Hillside Album Hour, where she did a powerful version of Purple Haze, among others.  The band’s Sunday set was just as memorable.  She is an amazing singer with a great set of pipes.  It was turning out to be a happy day all around.

The energy continued with that “high octane hillbilly band” Marty Stuart and His Fabulous Superlatives (above) – the best band name ever. The crowd loved the hits (The Whiskey Ain’t Working Anymore) but I especially liked a quiet, acoustic version of Dark As a Dungeon.  That song has long been a favorite of mine, especially since I heard Guy Clark sing it in a workshop entitled “Songs I Wish I’d Written.”  Stuart, who was at the first Merlefest 25 years ago and traveled for a time with Doc Watson (who hasn’t Marty played with?), did a nice job of remembering his bluegrass roots while focusing on the songs that made him a country music star (with the hair to prove it!).

Stuart’s set was followed by a Cabin Stage appearance by Scottish folk legend Dougie MacLean, which was the perfect bridge to the day’s headliner.  The energy was ratcheted down, but the intensity and musicality were right at the forefront of this 25-minute set.  There was a haunting song written when MacLean realized he was becoming more like his father every day, and his performance won over a crowd that was clearly waiting for AK+US.

For the only time this weekend, the Watson Stage area was jammed packed as the crowd was ready for Alison Krauss + Union Station Featuring Jerry Douglas (above) – the longest band name ever. With more Grammy awards than everyone else at the festival combined, AK+US didn’t disappoint.  From the first notes of Paper Airplane, through Dan Tyminski’s rendition of Dust Bowl Children, to Jerry Douglas’ high-powered instrumental Who’s Your Uncle, all three “stars” in this band were shining from the beginning.

I actually have a theory about Alison Krauss that was supported again on Sunday.  Every note the band plays is perfect, and they generally stick to the arrangements they put on record.  So it is only in the stage patter that Krauss gets to improvise…and she often goes off the rails with crazy comments.  On Sunday, it was her rambling explanation of why Wild Bill Jones was the perfect “sad song” – because it had everything possible in it that could go wrong in three-and-a-half minutes, with the “cherry on top” of someone getting “jail time.”  I’ve heard that bit of patter before, but then she turned to Tyminski and asked him for his favorite “sad” verse of the song, and they went off on something about Celebrity Apprentice.  Wacko stuff, but she has the voice and musicianship that makes it all seem right.

With a long drive back home in front of me, I hit the road before the crowds, but thanks to “Radio Free Merlefest” at 90.9 I was able to catch the end of the show…and the official end to Merlefest 25.

What a ride it has been.

More to come…

DJB

All ages welcome – Merlefest 25

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Merlefest has a multi-generational flavor built into its DNA that was on full display Saturday.

The festival’s patriarch, Doc Watson (top of post), took his turn at age 89 on the main stage that bears his name and that of his late son Merle for an hour-long love-fest by musical friends who have played with him since the 1970s.  As soon as the last chorus of Will the Circle Be Unbroken rang out, the Snyder Family Band – featuring 16-year-old Zeb Snyder playing some amazing flatpicked guitar along with his 13-year-old fiddle playing sister Samantha – took over on the cabin stage to showcase that roots music is in good hands with the new generation.  It was like that all day.

I was dragging when I arrived on Saturday morning, but found a pick-me-up that’s better than coffee:  Jeffrey Broussard & The Creole Cowboys.

Playing the pumping accordion that’s the heart and soul of Creole music, Broussard and the Cowboys rocked out on traditional Zydeco tunes such as Don’t Let the Green Grass Fool You (described by the bassist as, “Don’t take no wooden nickles”) and Baby Please Don’t Go Down to New Orleans (Cause I Love You So).

19-year-old Sierra Hull (above) with her band Highway 111 was next up at the Creekside Stage, which was Mandolin Central on Saturday afternoon.  Hull is a prodigious talent who is growing into maturity as an artist and a band leader.  They featured songs from her most recent release Daybreak and demonstrated why she was the first bluegrass musician to get Boston’s Berklee College of Music’s prestigious Presidential Scholarship.  Hull also made everyone in the audience feel old when she introduced the bass player as “The only member of the band old enough to rent a car.”  Ouch!  What the hell was I doing at age 19!

Bluegrass veteran Claire Lynch (above and below with The Claire Lynch Band) took the main stage mid-afternoon and demonstrated right off the bat why she’s such a festival favorite.  Playing with her band – which includes two previous winners of Merlefest instrumental contests plus premier bassist Mark Schatz – she showed what a mixture of prodigious young talent and exceptional experience can produce.  May Be a Little Bit Tight Tonight was the perfect kick-off number for a sharp 45-minute set.  Of course it helps when you have one of the best voices in bluegrass, country, and roots music at your core.

Fans and performers are in close proximity at Merlefest. You can be walking through the instrument tent and see banjo phenom Noam Pikelny (below) signing an instrument, or be face-to-face with two of the most influential mandolin players – and musicians – of their generation, Sam Bush (middle below) and Chris Thile (third photo below), as they prepare to take the stage.  There’s great accessibility to these talented musicians, even in the middle of 80,000 people.

Following Lynch’s set, I had to make some choices, thanks to the amazing amount of talent at Merlefest and the limited number of hours in the day.  I caught the opening song of Tony Rice’s set on the Watson Stage, but quickly left to return to the Creekside for one of my favorite events of Merlefest:  Mando Mania (photos below).  For those who can’t get enough mandolin, this is your afternoon!

Hosted by North Carolina mandolin player Tony Williamson, this year’s Mando Mania featured Joe Walsh of the Gibson Brothers, Chris Thile (above) of the Punch Brothers (and Nickel Creek fame), Sam Bush, and Sierra Hull.  The set basically consists of one of the players suggesting a tune, and then everyone swapping solos for a couple of times through the lineup.  All are monster mandolin players. Chris Thile, however, is from another planet.

This year, the end of Mando Mania was scheduled against the beginning of my other “can’t miss” event: the Hillside Album Hour hosted by The Waybacks.  And they are on opposite sides of the college where the festival is held.  Up a BIG hill.  Yikes!  I had to run.

Begun a few years ago when James Nash of The Waybacks wanted to play an hour of Led Zeppelin tunes “just to annoy some folks,” the Hillside Album Hour (named after the stage where it is held – see crowd at this year’s event above) has become its own phenomenon.  Nash selects a classic rock album to cover and asks a variety of guests to join the band.  The name of the album isn’t released prior to the opening chords, but clues are released on Facebook and everyone tries to guess the identity of this year’s featured album.  My last visit to Merlefest was for Sticky Fingers.  It is imperative that you be there for the opening chords, or you’ll miss half the fun.

I made it (and have the t-shirt to prove it), although my knees will never be the same after an hour clinging to the top of the hill trying desperately not to slide down into the patrons below me.  When Nash hit the opening chords of Purple Haze from the Jimi Hendrix Are You Experienced album (#15 on Rolling Stone’s Best 500 rock albums), the crowd exploded.  At the end of the first tune, Nash said, “Bet you didn’t see that coming.  Your reaction to those opening chords was worth it!”  John Cowan singing Hey Joe was a highlight for me, but the entire show was terrific.

The evening sets began with Doc and friends – with the friends carrying the musical load.  Cowan again hit a musical highlight – one that was very emotional for Doc and everyone else – by singing Don’t That Road Look Rough and Rocky for Doc and his wife Rosa Lee.  There were more than a few people dabbing at their eyes when Cowan’s beautiful tenor voice sang, “Don’t my baby look the sweetest, when she’s in my arms asleep.”

The Punch Brothers (above) – an amazing group of talented musicians fronted by the other-worldly Chris Thile (below) – were the first of the evening’s two headliners.  Noam Pikelny dead-panned, when introducing the wonderful Jimmie Rodgers tune Brakeman’s Blues, that the job of “Singing Brakeman” was coming back in vogue, with the new economy and all.  At times I’d wonder when these guys were going to find the melody, but just then they would morph into Back in Time and show the rest of us why we should definitely keep our day jobs.

From phenom to phenom…Thile turned the stage over to Derek Trucks and the fabulous Tedeschi Trucks Band.  As was fitting for Merlefest, Susan Tedeschi introduced the blues tune Do As You Please, Get What You Deserve by saying perhaps Merle Watson – who loved the blues – would enjoy this tune.  I know that everyone at Merlefest certainly did.

More to come…

DJB

Back to the Future(man): How are we going to top day two of Merlefest?

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At 12:30 on Friday afternoon, I thought I had seen the best show I was likely to catch on Day Two of Merlefest.

Well, when I’m wrong, I’m really wrong!

And I’m here to be the first to admit it.

The day started strong.  As I expected, The Steel Wheels had a huge crowd on hand at the Americana stage for their morning set, and they didn’t disappoint.  The Shenandoah Valley band – at both this set and a later gig at the Creekside Stage – played to large and enthusiastic crowds.  I heard more than one person turn to their friend/partner/spouse and say, “These guys were incredible last night.”

Spider Wings (“When you got too much, you don’t got anything”…or something like that) was my favorite, but they had so many good tunes coming out of them all day long it was hard to pick out just one.  Lead singer Trent Wagler’s piece about his grandfather’s response to Alzheimer’s – entitled Can’t Take That Music From Me – was lovely.

The juggling of schedules began almost immediately, as I had to leave The Steel Wheels set before it was over in order to catch the James Nash Making the Acoustic Guitar Rock workshop.  But am I glad I did.

Nash (above) is the front man for one of my favorite groups, The Waybacks, and he’s a monster guitar player.  On my Facebook page today I posted the status that “When I grow up, I want to be James Nash…He’s incredibly talented, creative, funny – and looks like a rock star to boot!”  He put on a 45-minute clinic on how to bring a rock attitude to acoustic guitar playing.  Rule #1 for learning to play fast:  don’t practice while watching the ball game.  Guilty!  Nash, playing a beautiful Santa Cruz 1990 OM guitar, worked through a lovely arrangement of the Beatles tune In My Life, showed how to cheat to get a string bend when you don’t want to rip your fingers like Stevie Ray Vaughan, and had the entire auditorium in the palm of his hand.  He even ended with some Grateful Dead, and told the crowd that they probably wouldn’t be hearing much Dead tomorrow afternoon at the Hillside Album Hour.

Nash – and just about everyone else in the auditorium – left immediately and headed to the Hillside Stage for a “virtually unrehearsed” show that Nash says you can only do, “When you  have no shame (if you fail).”  Playing with The Greencards’ Kym Warner and Jens Kruger of The Kruger Brothers, this was the “international” show – from Australia and Switzerland respectively  – and the entire band came out rocking on Calling Elvis and their Earl Scruggs tribute Too Late Now.  

Kruger (above) is an amazing banjo player who kept with Nash and Warner lick for lick (even when he mouthed, “I don’t know this tune” to Warner’s lightening fast Talking With Zeus instrumental.  When the Hillside crowd finished singing the old Ray Charles song Hallelujah, I Love Her So with the band, I thought, “It doesn’t get any better than this.”

Did I mention that I was wrong?

I drifted in and out of sets during the afternoon, catching bits of Peter Rowan and The Free Mexican Airforce, the Steep Canyon Rangers (above – loved their Tennessee Blues), The Greencards, and a few others. But I went outside the festival grounds late in the afternoon in search of something green to eat!  (Don’t get me started on limitations of the Merlefest food tent.)

I returned in time to catch most of the wonderful set (above) by John (The Cow) Cowan, song-writer extraordinaire Darrell Scott, and Doobie Brothers founder Pat Simmons.  They shared songs they had each written, sang covers (including the second Beatles sighting of the day), and ended with a spirited version of the Doobie classic Without Love.  (It was great to hear Simmons play those opening riffs on an acoustic guitar…and they sounded so perfect!)

Then the night really got interesting.

Bela Fleck and the Original Flecktones lineup took the stage to great anticipation. Roy “Futureman” Wooten (at the top of the post) with his drumitar, brother Victor Wooten on bass, and Howard Levy – one of the world’s great harmonica players – make up that original lineup, and they took the crowd on an hour-long journey through time and space (as Futureman would probably describe it).  I was always sorry to see Levy leave the band in the 1990s, and his return gave the creative spark to a group of musicians that didn’t need that much encouragement to try new works.  It was an amazing evening, made all the more memorable when Fleck sat down with just his acoustic banjo and played a medley of tunes “For Earl” that began with a simply beautiful You Are My Flower (which Earl always played on the guitar) and ended with The Ballad of Jed Clampett (and I believe some Dear Old Dixie thrown in the middle).  Heartfelt and lovely.

Sam Bush has played at each of the 24 previous Merlefests, and you figured he had something up his sleeve for the 25th anniversary.  The Sam Bush Band opened with John Hartford’s Vamp in the Middle (a terrific tune) and went off on an exploration for the old NGR instrumental Crooked Smile.  After a few songs, Sam said, “I want to be the first person to welcome these two folks to the Merlefest stage,” and proceeded to welcome Derek Trucks and his wife Susan Tedeschi of the Tedeschi Trucks Band – Saturday evening’s headliner.  The band kicked off Bell Bottom Blues – a song played by Derek’s namesake Eric Clapton – and the night, which was already special, turned magical.  Bush played a perfectly serviceable electric lead break, but Trucks stepped forward and showed what the #16  and youngest member of the Rolling Stone list of the Top 100 Guitarists of All Time sounds like.  God, how does he get that sound out of his guitar?!

Next came Gimme Shelter, a “song by a band that has never played Merlefest.”  Susan Tedeschi’s vocals were incredible and the mountains behind the Watson Stage were beginning to rock.

As if that wasn’t enough, Bush then called out former New Grass Revival band mates Bela Fleck and John Cowan for an impromptu reunion and — as has been happening throughout the weekend — led off a tribute to the late Levon Helm. Bush, Cowan, and Tedeschi traded verses on Up on Cripple Creek, but the entire crowd was singing along.  When the tune morphed into the old fiddle/banjo standard Cripple Creek, banjo wizards Fleck and Scott Vestal (below) traded licks and choruses.

Incredible musicians playing incredible music together…often in new juxtapositions that take them out of their normal zone. When that set was over, I had to leave.  I stopped by a packed Dance Tent to catch just a bit of Donna the Buffalo but what I really wanted was to get in the car, drive those North Carolina country roads back to my hotel, and savor an amazing day.

More to come…

DJB