by

“Work Hard, Play Hard, Pray Hard: Hard Time, Good Time & End Time Music: 1923-1936″ by Various Artists

Various Artists
Work Hard, Play Hard, Pray Hard: Hard Time, Good Time & End Time Music: 1923-1936
Tompkins Square Records
5 stars (out of 5)

By Aaron Keith Harris

The story behind Work Hard is as wonderfully odd as the music this three-disc set contains. Some guys were cleaning out the house of a recently dead hoarder—Don Wahle of Louisville, Kentucky—and they knew enough to know that the boxes and boxes of 78 RPM records might be of interest to someone.

The Tompkins Square label culled much of its 42-track survey of hilbilly records from 1923 to 1936—including 19 cuts previously unissued in any format but 78—from Wahle’s collection, and the result is captivating.

I’ve always loved recordings from this era, because you can hear the performers (and those running the primitive recording equipment) trying to figure out exactly what it is they are doing. They’re not playing a barn dance with whiskey and dancing, they’re not playing in a church at the back of a holler, and they’re not playing in their parlor with family and friends gathered close. Most of them have never owned a record player. The closest they could have come to mass entertainment was a big fiddle contest, or the various radio shows that were beginning to fill the air and help songs and styles to spread quickly.

But one imagines the musicians recorded here shifting their feet, asking where they should stand and look, and holding back a little, not quite able to cut loose as in their native element. The picking is a little tentative at times too, but the effect is deeply satisfying. The rules of American popular music—country, pop, gospel, and even bluegrass, blues, and jazz—have long been codified 80 or 90 years after these sides were cut, and when we hear Earl McCoy’s staccato steel guitar on “John Henry the Steel Drivin’ Man” with that one unexpected note in his riff, Jimmie Tarlton and Tom Darby’s quavering, yodeling harmonies on “All Bound Down in Texas,” or the Happy Four’s shape-note arrangement with harmonica fills on “Climbing the Golden Stairs,” we can’t help but touch parts of our musical and cultural imagination stored way in the back of our amygdala.

The Work Hard songs on Disc One deal with imagery far removed from most of us—Fiddlin John Carson’s “The Farmer is the Man Who Feeds Them All,” Oscar Ford’s “The Farmer’s Dream,” Red Gay & Jack Wellman’s “Flat Wheel Train Blues, Pts. 1 & 2,” Pierre La Dieu’s “Driving Saw Logs on the Plover”—while talking about ideas we still confront: class division in “Poor Man, Rich Man (Cotton Mill Colic No. 2)” by David McCarn, consumer cynicism in “I’ve Got the Chain Store Blues” by the Allen Brothers, and the injustice of prohibition (alcohol then, certain drugs now) in “When the Roses Bloom Again for the Bootlegger” by Earl Johnson.

The Pray Hard cuts on Disc Three often address issues that came up when country boys went to the city, or city culture came to the country. The listener may not be entirely convinced to go dry by Gid Tanner’s “You’ve Got to Stop Drinking Shine,” but the scolding of the Georgia Yellow Hammers on “I’m S-A-V-E-D” will surely get him to takea firm position one way or the other. “The Gambler’s Dying Words” from Sid Harkreader & Grady Moore sports a melody quite similar to “Roving Gambler” to draw listeners close to hear their warining, reminding me of the chart my church youth pastor put up that pointed the impressionable to soundalike versions of dangerously secular bands.

The Kentucky Holiness Singers live up to their name with “I’m On My Way,” a tune with a proto-bluegrass mandolin break punctuated by a little shouting, and the Dixon Brothers turn in a lovely, pious performance on “Easter Day.”

The most fun here is of course on the 14 Play Hard tracks of Disc Two. Gid Tanner’s “Work Don’t Bother Me” captures the relish that those who worked so hard must have took to the weekend opportunity to tie one on and forget everything for a couple of days. The unnamed members of the improbably named North Carolina Hawaiians turn in a nifty “Solider’s Joy,” the dance number picked on ukulele, guitar, and steel guitar (picked Hawaiian style with some slides reaching into Duane Allman bird-chirping territory), the Carolina Ramblers rave their way through “Barnyard Frolic,” and the Hack String Band’s “Too Tight Rag” is the soundtrack to a cartoon short that hasn’t been made yet, with fiddle, mandolin, tenor banjo, and jazzhorn taking turns on lead licks.

I hadn’t heard of several of the acts on this set before, much less most of the songs, and this set can be enjoyed equally by old-time aficionados and new initiates into these strange and old sounds: you’ll get some of the more typical sounds from this style and era in songs you haven’t heard to death, and some real gems, patterns of sound you’ve never imagined, like the Taylor-Griggs Louisiana Melody Makers’ “When the Moon Drips into the Blood,” and Whit Gaydon’s “Tennessee Coon Hunt.”

http://www.tompkinssquare.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2012/10/TSQ2783_WorkHardPlayHardPrayHard.900.jpg

About these ads
by

“The Road Has No End” by Monroe Crossing

Monroe Crossing
The Road Has No End
no label
3½ stars (out of 5)

By Larry Stephens

The role of the reviewer (in my opinion) is giving the reader and prospective buyer/listener clear and honest information about the music being reviewed. This includes explaining the biases of the reviewer—because we all have some.

This crossed my mind as I listened to Monroe Crossing. I don’t subscribe to the belief that a bluegrass song has to be about mother or the mountains, or that every bluegrass performer has to sprinkle their vernacular with “y’all” and “holler” (though I confess I do). We used to include an Eagles hit in our shows that sounds really great as a bluegrass number.

Monroe Crossing (and, yes, they are named after the father of bluegrass) gives us bluegrass with a modern sound. They hail from Minnesota, and you can hear that in their voices. It’s a different sound from all the bluegrass singers from the general area of the Mason-Dixon line and it may take a song or two to adjust your ears. They are excellent musicians and that is showcased in the lightning fast “Bullet Train,” composed by bandmates Lisa Fuglie (fiddle, mandolin and vocals) and Mark Anderson (bass and bass vocals). They know how to drive a song and this one has a familiar but still unusual topic: trains are often mentioned in bluegrass but not “high-speed, solar-powered, magnetically levitating” trains. Chances are you’ll be listening more to the flying fingers than pondering the meaning of the lyrics. Other band members are David Robinson (banjo), Derek Johnson (guitar, vocals), and Matt Thompson (mandolin, fiddle, vocals).

On the subject of trains, Jimmie Rodgers left his imprint on country and bluegrass music and many of his songs had train related themes. “Hobos In The Roundhouse” is a touching and true song about a man who trod a fine line between keeping his job and allowing hobos to sleep in his roundhouse on cold nights. This is what bluegrass probably does best—touch our hearts with stories of humanity.

They reached into the archives for a couple of songs. “Doin’ My Time” is a Jimmie Skinner/Flatt & Scruggs song they include as a tribute to Earl Scruggs while Hank Thompson’s “Foggy River” has been recorded dozens of times on both sides of the country/bluegrass divide. Unfortunately, their usually tight harmonies fall apart a bit on this number. “Last Letter Home” goes back a few decades, recorded by (among others) the Amazing Rhythm Aces and Sam Bush. This is a Civil War-themed song and you should listen to the lyrics.

Through the day I watched those southern boys go down

And they lay like Georgia peaches bruised and broken on the ground

Through the night I wondered was it worth the pain

And I cried not revenge, I called your name

“Rain Was Turning Into Snow” has a great melody as does “If The World Were Filled With You,” both songs about love. “Heavenly Table” is an engaging number about food from biscuits and gravy to okra. While the food may be standard fare on many tables (and I love hominy) it’s fun and offbeat as a song. Another number that shows a sense of humor is “Easy To Get Lost,” based on a remark made after listening to driving instructions that didn’t have the desired effect, “it’s easy to get lost when you don’t know where you’re going.” Who won’t appreciate that sentiment?

They also reach into the world of rock-’n'-roll with The Hollies’ “Long Cool Woman In a Black Dress.” They decided on a blazing fast approach while The Hollies were more deliberate. You can make a bluegrass connection though:

Saturday night I was downtown

Working for the FBI

Sitting in a nest of bad men

Whiskey bottles piling high

Bootlegging boozer on the west side

Full of people who are doing wrong

Just change “downtown” to “in the holler” and you’ve got a still and moonshiners.

Trains, love, booze and okra all mixed together with a banjo (there has to be something you can use them for)—that’s pretty good bluegrass.

by

“1945″ by Brad Mackeson

Brad Mackeson

1945

BradMackeson.com

4 stars (out of 5)

By Donald Teplyske

By the time one arrives at track three of Brad Mackeson’s second album, a substantial journey has already occurred.

“They say love is for gamblers and broken hearted fools,” is the phrase that Mackeson has crafted to open this stunning sliver of perfection entitled “Love Is For Gamblers,” but it isn’t the only memorable statement that goes into this impressively written reflection—”My scenery may change, but I will never forget your name” and “Freely I give my love, you owe me no debt”—each verse contains additional poetic affirmation of his lover’s perfection.

Like the finest songs from Bruce Hornsby, Mackeson’s are full-bodied testimonials, gently revealed.

At 23 years, the Nashville-based songwriter from Portland, Oregon creates songs that he has no business being able to even relate to; his is an expansive view of his surroundings, with infatuation and obsession walking hand-in-hand with love and emotional devastation.

His voice, his phrasing is his own, although one can’t help but hear echoes of Dylan, Springsteen, and Petty within a spare couplet, a harmonica fill, or an extended syllable. “Thousand Drums” could be mistaken for a mind-expanding Mumford & Sons track, catchy and pristine. Thoroughly modern with roots that run through my middle-aged experiences, side one of this collection provides one of the most satisfying listens I’ve experienced in quite some time.

It is bold and complex, fuzzy and ripped with poignancy.

Flip to side two and things are entirely different, and no less acutely satisfying. The rest of the world drops away a bit here, and Mackeson appears more isolated and the music speaks to this altered reality.

“I’m too afraid to check my own reflection…what if I’m not who I want to be?” Mackeson challenges within “Gonna Be Fine;” like George Harrison and Harry Nilsson did for a previous generation—and I don’t know why they popped to mind, but they seem apt—Mackeson frequently creates complexity from simplicity. Side two is more free-wheeling than the first side, with added vocal effects that remind one of psychedelic-influenced performances heard on long ago, late-night radio. None of which interferes with the connection Mackeson has established with his audience.

Danny Schmidt. Joe Pug. Mark Erelli. Lee Harvey Osmond. John K. Sampson. Leeroy Stagger.

If those names are on your iPod, you had best add Brad Mackeson.

by

“Battlefield” by Mountain Faith

Mountain Faith
Battlefield
Pisgah Ridge
4 stars (out of 5)

By Larry Stephens

“I’ll Be Gone” and “God Is There,” back to back on this CD, are memorable message songs, especially among those who enjoy bluegrass gospel and are also Christian believers.

Having spent long days and nights with both my father and father-in-law as their lives slowly ebbed away, I believe both would have said, if they could have:

I’ll be gone when I take my last breath

I’ll be gone when my Father calls me home

I know it’s hard to let me go, but I hope that you know

That I’ll be much better off when I’m gone

That last line is the one that’s sometimes hard for us to accept, believers or not, even though we believe it’s true. The next song tells us that even though we grieve, God is there to give us love and support.

Good music with a good message is exactly what Mountain Faith delivers here.

Gospel music is an integral part of bluegrass music. The majority of CDs and stage shows include one or two gospel numbers and many musicians are not bashful about talking in public about their Christian faith. Some artists have published gospel CDs—Doyle Lawson comes to mind—and there are some well known, full time gospel bluegrass bands, such as Paul Williams and the Victory Trio. This is the niche Mountain Faith has chosen. The band is a family affair with siblings Summer Brooke and Brayden McMahan (fiddle and banjo) and dad Sam McMahan on bass (although Tim Surrett [Balsam Range] plays bass on the CD). Their cousin, John Morgan, plays guitar, and the only non-family member, Dustin Norris, plays mandolin. They are all accomplished musicians.

Summer McMahan contributes two songs, “I’ll Be Gone” and “I Will Praise Him,” a slow number of praise with her as lead singer. The vocals are all by the siblings and their cousin. John Morgan is the composer of “God Is There.”

“When It Starts Raining” (lead vocals: John Morgan) has a mountain music sound reminiscent of Ralph Stanley with several phrases accompanied only by the banjo. In contrast, “I’m On The Battlefield” is a straightforward gospel number. It is an excellent showcase for the excellent harmony singing they provide as well as the quality of their instrumental work. They do equally well with a barn-burner like “Living Water.”

While every band wants their own sound, it speaks well of them when their music favorably reminds the listener of another quality group. “It Could Happen In A Moment” reminds me of the Marshall Family, a family group from years gone by that was popular on the bluegrass circuit. “Ain’t Gonna Run” sparks memories of “If That Don’t Make You Want To Go” by The Isaacs, and that’s very good company. They also reach back in time for Luther Presley’s “In the Sweet Forever,” a minimalist arrangement that accents their southern gospel harmony singing.

If their eyes are set on careers in bluegrass then they are off to a good start with this CD. Every song is a good one from a fine family of musicians.

by

“God Didn’t Choose Sides: Civil War True Stories about Real People, Volume 1″ by Various Artists

God Didn’t Choose Sides: Civil War True Stories about Real People, Volume 1
Various Artists
Rural Rhythm Records
4½ stars (out of 5)

By Aaron Keith Harris

The Civil War, or, as it’s more properly called, the War Between the States, has been the subject of several great bluegrass songs—”Legend of the Rebel Solider” by the Country Gentlemen, “Last Day at Gettysburg” by Larry Sparks, and “He Walked All the Way Home” by Blue Highway” come to mind—and this 13-track, 45-minute effort from Rural Rhythm Records adds to the list in a refreshing way.

On God Didn’t Choose Sides, executive producer Sam Passamano II employs a strong lineup of singers, musicians, and songwriters to create a dozen original songs (the album-closing hymn “There is a Fountain,” which gets a gentle, yet majestic reading from the Gap Creek Quartet, is the exception) about actual people who played a part, willingly or not, in a truly horrific war.

Paula Breedlove, Mark Brinkman, and Mike Evans, working in different combinations, share most of the writing credits, with Brad Davis, Ray Edwards, Terry Foust, Steve Gulley, and Tim Stafford also pitching in.

The product is some fine original tunes that offer neither the shallow cant that lionizes the politically motivated Lincoln and the butchers he employed as generals, nor romantic notions of the South, which was controlled by slaveholding oligarchs—the one percenters of the South, if you will—who allowed their blessed homeland to be attacked because they put their private interests ahead of it.

One of the best vocals on the disc, unsurprisingly, comes from Dale Ann Bradley on “Christmas in Savannah,” a tale of a group of Union soldiers from “General Sherman’s line” who brought yuletide provisions with mules dressed as reindeer to the residents of the besieged town. It’s a nice story that shows that even in the worst circumstances people find ways to be kind, but there’s no mention of the fact that Savannah was the lone city that General Sherman, one of America’s most shameful war criminals, didn’t put to the torch on his sadistic march across a defenseless south at the behest of Lincoln and Grant.

I know pointing out things like that aren’t the point of this project, but a little true contrast now and then between the actions of politicians and generals on one hand and ordinary folk on the other can only enhance the esteem we have for the latter.

There are a couple of songs that do that to some degree by pointing out the inhumane treatment of prisoners on both sides—the brooding “Providence Spring” from Tim Stafford and the deceptively soothing ghost story “The Lady in Gray” from Ronnie Bowman.

There are also stories of individuals doing the best to act bravely and honorably in situations where such actions seldom come to a good end: “I’m Almost Home” from Steve Gulley whose delivery embodies the snuffed-out joy of a soldier who leads one last charge only to die on the front steps of the home he had left to go fighting, Russell Moore bringing his sentimental tenor to “A Picture of Three Children” clutched in the hand of a dead solider, the Lonesome River Band performing “The Legend of Jennie Wade” in which three friends try to communicate over hundreds of miles to no avail, and Bradley Walker’s voice singing of one man’s “Last Day at Vicksburg” with stentorian richness.

We meet some other great characters too: the feisty “Old John Burns” from Ricky Wasson & Dwight McCall who turn in one of the ‘grassier cuts included here, Carrie Hassler’s melancholy “Carrie’s Graveyard Book” about a woman who honored the dead to an extent far beyond anyone could have asked her to do, and Dave Adkins’ soulful story of “The River Man” who risked his life repeatedly to help slaves cross the Ohio River.

My favorite track from this fine collection is “Rebel Hart,” from Brad Gulley, son of Steve Gulley and lead singer for Cumberland River. The upbeat track about a 16-year-old Virginia girl who used her feminine wiles and incredible courage to inflict improbable injury after injury on those who had invaded her country cries out for a movie version.

Before “There is a Fountain” closes things out, elder statesman Marty Raybon offers the title track with his characteristic humility, reminding us that the God of the Bible who was worshiped by those victimized could never  have ordained an unnecessary war fought for political reasons that killed as many as 750,000 people. One wishes that a nation that had survived such an ordeal would have learned its most obvious lesson.

by

“Next Go ‘Round” by the Blue Canyon Boys

The Blue Canyon Boys
Next Go ‘Round
www.BlueCanyonBoys.com
4½ stars (out of 5)

By Donald Teplyske

Those who have been involved in the bluegrass world for longer than twenty minutes recognize many universal truths. One of these is that our new favorite band is often just one mail delivery away.

Now five discs into their career, the Blue Canyon Boys have only recently come to my attention. I believe they were recommended to me as a band to pursue for a concert booking a few years back, but so were the original Quicksilver, the Osborne Brothers, the Bluegrass Cardinals, and Jimmy Martin; like those, the suggestion didn’t get too far past a polite, and I hope not dismissive, smile. We bluegrass folks also have our fair share of universal regrets. Because, dang me—the Blue Canyon Boys are a group we all should direct some attention toward, and I wish I had listened a little less smugly to the suggestion.

Categorizing the group is relatively pointless, but if forced I would suggest “contemporarily traditional.” The quartet is well-rooted in the sounds of the past, but isn’t afraid to sweeten and broaden their approach with effects (the sampling of seascape sounds that open “Down Along the Cove,” for example), subject matter (the title track, inspired by the realities of drug addiction), and vocal treatments (four-part  a cappella on the album-closing “I Bid You Goodnight.”)

Like any bluegrass band worth extended listening, the Blue Canyon Boys aren’t any one thing. Yes, they appear young, but only when compared to the median age of a blue-haired festival. Yes, they wear suits on stage, but they don’t appear to be doing so with any sense of irony. Yes, they are great musicians, but they also concentrate on ensuring that their vocals are creatively arranged and pointedly executed. Yes, they admire the Country Gentleman (covering “Darling Alalee”), but—well, there is no “but” to that one.

In searching the shelves here in the Bluegrass Bunker, I came across the group’s 2005 debut, Just an Ol’ Dirt Road; apparently banjo-less at the time, the group now features Chris Elliot (Spring Creek) on the 5-string. The Blue Canyon Boys’ sound has developed in the eight years since that album was released—fuller with more drive—but the heart remains consistent: it is all about the song!

The band frontloads this 46-minute offering with original material: five of the first six songs come from within the band. While the majority of the set is comprised of covers, there is neither a measurable difference in the quality of the writing and presentation nor a feeling that one has “heard” all of this before elsewhere.

There is honky-tonk swing plainly evident within “Heartaches Welcome” (“The sign said, ‘Heartaches Welcome’ as I walked in that barroom…”), and that theme nicely complements a rendition of Buck Owens and Don Rich’s “Before You Go,” which is kicked into overdrive by the 5. Both sung by Gary Dark (mandolin), the songs reveal the country influences of these Colorado-based bluegrassers.

Equally “hard country” is Jason Hicks’ own “Like a Heart That’s Grown Weary of the Blues;” that one is pure lonesome. “Going Up,” is borrowed from the Gosdin Brothers, while the brothers Stanley give them “Nobody’s Love is Like Mine” and “Harbor of Love,” although Drew Garrett (producer, bass) notes they learned the latter from the Bray Brothers. In these years following “the year of Bill Monroe,” an interpretation of “Sitting Alone in the Moonlight” remains particularly welcome, while Flatt & Scruggs and the Foggy Mountain Boys have their “Roustabout” taken for a twirl.

Not that it is a competition, but I found myself repeatedly drawn to the songs of Jason Hicks. His “Down in the Misery” utilizes working in a mine as a metaphor for life’s challenges, while the “final wishes” of  “Up On the Hill” are rich in imagery, and the harmony vocals are killer—a brave choice for an album opening track.

With Next Go ‘Round, the Blue Canyon Boys have most assuredly earned my attention. Highly recommended.

by

“The Farthest Horizon” by the Sleepy Man Banjo Boys

Sleepy Man Banjo Boys
The Farthest Horizon
www.SleepyManBanjo.com
2 stars (out of 5)

By Donald Teplyske

Straight up—I don’t get it.

Unless I’ve had a relationship with them—family members and friends, students I’ve taught—I’ve never been into hearing kids play music for my own aesthetic enjoyment. I’ve often stated that I don’t believe anyone should record before their 18th birthday.
I’ve felt that way about every 12-year old country singer I’ve seen in too short shorts and too much makeup on a county fair stage. I’m reminded of it each time I witness a teenager performing a ‘tweener at a folk festival. Hell, I felt that way about Chris Thile and Nickel Creek, as good as they were, and the Abrams Brothers did nothing to dissuade me of this unpopular opinion.  I’ve been justified in holding this narrow-minded attitude a hundred times, not the least of which was when I finally saw and heard Cherryholmes live.

I know it isn’t logical, and I realize it is patently unfair and close-minded. And I understand that I’ve likely missed some good music because of my staunch, codgerly ‘rule.’

When the Sleepy Man Banjo Boys—New Jersey brothers Jonny (10), Robbie (13) and Tommy Mizzone (14)—started making the rounds a year or so ago, I completely ignored them.

I didn’t tune in to see them on Letterman. I didn’t go searching for them on YouTube. Again, I didn’t care. When the phenomenon didn’t fade away like farmers doing “Gangnam Style” parodies, and I was assigned this album, I did at least look at some of the clips and did a little reading. Who am I to argue with J.D. Crowe, Andy Leftwich (who plays mandolin throughout this album), Mountain Heart, and Pete Wernick?

I still don’t get it.

I accept that they are kids, and their hearts are in the right place. I trust that the parents are not living their dreams vicariously through offspring, and that the boys are doing this because they want to. And I understand the novelty.

I’ve listened to The Farthest Horizon likely a dozen times. The tunes make pleasant background music. But I hear nothing—including Leftwich’s mando contributions, because they don’t stand out—that I couldn’t hear at any decent bluegrass jam or local festival. It isn’t bad, not by any means. The instrumentals sound fine. The music sounds good, and I suppose that should be ‘good enough.’

What I don’t hear is ‘life.’ The instances where Ashley Lilly, granddaughter of bluegrass pioneer Everett Lilly, sings are interesting from that perspective, but underwhelming except to give my ‘rule’ additional merit. I can’t argue that the trio of brothers from New Jersey doesn’t have musical talent, because they obviously do. Guitarist Tommy Mizzone seems to have a style I might enjoy in the future.

I’ve certainly heard more skilled versions of “Gold Rush” and “Shuckin’ the Corn.” Their original instrumentals don’t stand out; only a single one has stayed with me longer than the time it took to play. “The Man from Danville,” obviously inspired by the playing of Tony Rice, is memorable, but not necessarily remarkable. The lyrics to “Always the One” read like they were discovered scribbled onto a middle-schooler’s notebook.

At the outset, I admitted that I don’t get it. But if you don’t hold child musicians to the same standard as adult professionals and can enjoy them on that level, you will find something good here.