Bluegrass Imagination

Tonight I went to a free bluegrass concert. The band was named Buttermilk Revival and they were... ok. Don't get me wrong they weren't terrible we just left when they decided to play the same song twice near the end of their second set. Also, an ok night of bluegrass is better than what I would've done.

I guess what I like about bluegrass is that it transports me to a place I've never been, cannot go, ... and probably doesn't exist. The plink of the mandolin and the twang of the banjo take me to some far off dancehall with no air conditioning and squeaky wooden floors. The band's rhythm is driven by the thump of feet on the worn boards covered in saw dust. Dim lights can't hide the tired smiles of dancers in the trance of music. Young people rebelling with the now innocent sound of old-timey. Or maybe it's the gospel hymns sung by a family. Pop playing the guitar while Mom touches the piano. Sons and daughters picking a banjo or making a fiddle sing. The off-harmonies are overcome by the that sound that can only come from people who share blood and a love that is more than just a last name. There's a third image of many men and women sitting in a circle trading tunes. The old passing down to the young.

The closest I've come to this place was in a coffee shop in Radford, VA. A free-for-all picking. Old men cradled fiddle dusted white with the rosin of decades. A middle aged man played a mandolin with a neck polished dark and shiny from years of use. His speed did not match his age, fingers sprinting faster than my legs could run in my youth. In the corner, a young man or old boy sat picking a banjo with the skill of the old men, the prodigy. I've forgotten the name of this place, but, if I visit Radford again, I will find my way back to that coffee shop on a Monday night.

Maybe this is a product of who I am and where I live. I've always longed for a time not my own and its lifestyle. I guess since I'm a product of the North Georgia mountains and Cumberland Plateau, I have connected to bluegrass. If I had lived in Louisiana it would have been jazz and zydeco, Memphis would be the blues, New York would be... show tunes?

I don't know where this is going but I don't think this desire will stop or that my imagination will stop running whenever I hear this beautiful music, I will go to this place