There’s been an exciting new development at Bluegrass Today. I think it’s even bigger than the recent breaking of the personnel change story that rocked the industry: “Brian Hampton to Kryspy Rydge.” It may even be bigger than the installation of the new water cooler at BT Towers in North Carolina: Bluegrass Today will soon be debuting a new section devoted to personal ads. 

This is something that has long been needed in our industry. Being single is hard enough in today’s social climate that, while it is active and vibrant in the virtual world, is just plain lonely in the actual world. Many have found the match-making sites disappointing, to say nothing of the bar, laundromat, or festival parking lot singles scene. And, as devotees of bluegrass music, we have to face the fact that we’re pretty specialized and may not be right for just anybody.

You may know the story personally: a single bluegrasser has found what seems to be the ideal mate, someone who’s attractive, smart, wealthy, funny, and a terrific dancer. He or she, unfortunately, is completely ignorant of—and maybe slightly hostile to—bluegrass music. The optimistic bluegrasser attempts to look past this, hoping to win this almost-perfect partner over using a gradual program of bluegrass music immersion, combined with some light brain-washing and hypnosis. The music of Punch Brothers is introduced first in small doses, followed by something from the Alison Krauss Forget About It album, eventually progressing to some Starling-era Seldom Scene. The hope is that 2 to 18 years down the line, your potential spouse will be asking to borrow your Flatt & Scruggs 1948-1959 boxed set. 

It rarely works out as planned. But, if you started with someone who already shared this common interest, all you’d have to worry about then are things like sense of humor and kissing ability.

Bluegrass Today has permitted me to give you a preview of the first few ads that will be run, which also serves to give the first customers of this service a little extra exposure:

Female fiddle player seeks single male for romance and companionship. Must be willing to endure daily fiddle practice, even in the key of E flat. Non-smoker with a sense of humor a plus, but not required. Must think that Charlie Cline’s kickoff to Footprints in the Snow is just awesome! Those who are oversensitive to variation in pitch need not apply.

Bass player seeks partner for companionship, love, and possible long-term relationship. Was Paul your favorite Beatle? Was Cedric Rainwater your favorite Blue Grass Boy? Do you like like long walks on the beach with some kind of bass-rolling device? Maybe I’m the one for you. Owning a hatchback vehicle and knowing the numbers system a plus.

Guitar player/lead singer seeks single attractive female for serious relationship. Must insure that I stay the center of attention at all times. Ability to stare at me with rapt look while I sing songs about lost love essential. Ability to cut and style hair and feed me the forgotten lyrics to third verses of songs a plus.

Event producer seeks loving, possible long-term relationship. Must be comfortable with children as well as large groups of volunteers, not to mention difficult agents and immature artists.  Ability to screen calls and host showcases helpful. Please call phone number listed below to leave message. It’s unlikely that I’ll return the call.

Banjo player seeks pretty much anyone who will listen to and enjoy the repetition of the thumb-index-middle pattern at any and all hours of the day. Understanding the terms “flathead,” “pflange,” “tone ring,” and “truss rod,” and even finding them slightly sexy is a big plus. Knowledge of the Foggy Mountain Banjo album is essential. Must be willing to consider naming children and/or pets, whether male or female, “Earl,” “J.D.,” “Sonny,” or “Ralph.”

Mandolin player/band leader seeks female companion willing to either be away from home for weeks on end or stay home alone for weeks on end. If away-from-home option is chosen, knowledge of diesel mechanics and tour bus interior decorating a plus, but not necessary. Must be able to tune a mandolin.

Female dobro player seeks male for possible serious relationship and spot in band. Must play guitar or mandolin and sing baritone or low tenor. Knowledge of the entire Osborne Brothers catalog a plus. Having a current driver’s license and flexible day job essential. Serious relationship part is optional.

Bluegrass singer/songwriter seeks potential life partner with steady employment and decent place to live. A reliable vehicle wouldn’t hurt. Person should be loving, caring, romantic, and tolerant of a songwriter’s artistic temperament. In case of writer’s block, periodic break-ups may be required to create song ideas.

When the first wedding happens thanks to a successful Bluegrass Today personals match, I’ll be sure to report back about it. The entire editorial staff will be angling for an invite to that one.

The post From The Side of the Road… personal ads for bluegrass musicians appeared first on Bluegrass Today.

Whenever you search something or ask a question of the Almighty Internet gods (whose names are Pete and Roscoe) on your computer, the usual procedure is to type a question in the search bar at the top of your internet browser. Have you ever paid attention to the choices that come up when you begin to type your question? As soon as you type in a word like “why,” your search engine will give you a list of completed questions beginning with “why,” based on the most common searches.

Naturally this will make you a little concerned, or at least curious about our society. When I typed in “why” just now, the top five suggestions were: “Why is the sky blue?”, “why am I always cold?”, “why do cats purr,” “why am I so tired?”, and “why do dogs eat poop?” First of all, I didn’t make any of those up. Second of all, it’s kind of endearing that enough people are gazing into the sky wondering what the heck they’re looking at, to make “Why is the sky blue?” the number one choice. Also, animal lovers can be proud that both cats and dogs made it into the top five, though admittedly dogs don’t come off quite as well as cats do in these questions. Finally, a lot of people are just tired and cold.

“Where . . .” yields the following: “Where am I?”, “Where was Togo filmed?” (chalk that up to my search engine’s Alberta bias, which may also explain the “Why am I always cold?” above), “Where did the Titanic sink?”, and “Where is my ride?”

“Why can’t I . . .” is fun: “Why can’t I sleep” (because you’re staring at your computer!), “Why can’t I focus?” (ditto), and the rest are devoted to secretion issues like, “Why can’t I cry?” and “Why can’t I pee?” Note that not being able to pee for a prolonged period of time will eventually make you cry, so at least one problem solves the other.

In addition to search suggestions based on the most common questions in your area, tailored questions also come up as choices, based on your own searches, and on information you were hoping Google didn’t have about you. This got me thinking about search suggestions for bluegrass musicians and fans. Here are a few of the most common ones:

“Why . . .“

“Why are banjos so heavy?”

“Why am I still in this band?”

“Why is our festival set time so early?”

“Why did Amanda Gilbreath’s brother stab the guy in The Hills of Roane County?”

“Where is . .“

“Where is Rosine?”

“Where is this gig?”

“Where is the nearest Waffle House?”

“Where is our fiddle player? We’re on in five minutes.”

“Where is my capo?”

“What is . . .“

“What is bluegrass music, really?”

“What is the deal with the sound?”

“What is the third verse to Will the Circle Be Unbroken?”

“What is a coffin ready-made for a horse?”

“How do I . . .“

“How do I sing the baritone part?”

“How do I tune a mandolin for Get Up John?”

“How do I tune a mandolin at all?”

“How do I get a song to end at a jam session?”

“How do I talk someone else into carrying my bass?”

“How do I go back in time and stop Wagon Wheel from being written?”

“Who . . .”

“Who is Cedric Rainwater?”

“Who is Little Willie and why are young women still going anywhere with that creep?”

“Who hacked our web site?’

“Who is supposed to be paying us?”

“Who is singing so out of tune?”

Happy searching.

The post From the Side of the Road… Why can’t I pee? appeared first on Bluegrass Today.

I’m sitting in a hospital bed in Germany after an unfortunate fall on some stairs that left me with broken ribs and a ruptured spleen, but quite a bit of time. This was during a tour, and naturally I had to cancel all the remaining shows and rearrange flights home, which I’m working on today, or should be. I’m doing a lot better, by the way, and am due to be released today.

I quickly felt solidarity with people in the US right now, who are all rebooking travel because of air traffic control-related flight cancellations. We’re all spending a fair amount of time on hold. I don’t know if I’m the first person to get a new IV put in my arm while on hold with Lufthansa; I’m probably not.

This brings me to the subject of hold music. It’s always interesting (at least for the first 10 minutes) to hear what direction various companies choose to go with their hold music choices. Some opt for generic smooth-jazzy sounds, with melodies that aren’t necessarily familiar. Some give it the full elevator music treatment, with heavily watered-down instrumental versions of pop classics. United Airlines has gone the classy route and uses a famous passage from George Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue. That was Gershwin’s jazz-influenced classical work, composed in the early ’20s. George Gershwin’s brother Ira—who I’m pretty sure was the mandolin-playing tenor singer of the duo—was the lyricist of their co-written songs, so he had nothing to do with Rhapsody in Blue. In any case, I appreciate United’s more complex musical choice, which they actually licensed and still use in safety announcements, commercials, and other branding efforts. I like the use of something less bland while I’m waiting to deal with a cancelled flight from O’Hare. Some might argue, though, that using the same hold music for 38 years is a little extreme, and that at some point they might consider switching to Leaving on a Jet Plane, I’ll Fly Away, or He Went to Sleep and the Hogs Ate Him (just as a reminder that there are worse things in life than missing a plane connection).

Is hold music a missed bluegrass opportunity? Surely we have all sorts of songs that would be good for a variety of businesses that didn’t hire enough phone operators to do the job. If we don’t move on this, this will very soon be the domain of AI, in which some unmusical suit in an Atlanta high rise office building just asks Chat GPT to create “a bland pop instrumental that evokes a growing sense of frustration.”

I’ve already mentioned I’ll Fly Away as possible airline hold music. Here are some other options for a range of businesses worth considering:

Harold’s Mortuary — Bury Me Beneath the Willow

Dermatology Associates — Rawhide

Wells Fargo Bank — Jimmy Martin & The Osborne Brothers’ Save it! Save It!

Outdoor Sports Outlet — Matterhorn

Discount Hardware Superstore — Take This Hammer

Obstetrics Specialists — Blue Highway’s Born With a Hammer in My Hand

Darlene’s Dance Studio — Jimmy Martin’s Skip Hop and Wobble

West Side Couples Therapy — Ruby Are You Mad?; alternative — Are You Tired of Me My Darling?

Good Scents Perfume and Cologne — Rank Stranger

Vintage Navigation Systems & Travel — I’m Using My Bible For a Roadmap

Roscoe’s Loan and Check Cashing — Long Journey Home, a.k.a. Lost All My Money But a Two Dollar Bill

FastGrowingTrees .com — Tall Pines

Uber — Bringing Mary Home

Uber Eats — Who’s That Knockin’ At My Door

Sunnyside Budget Assisted Living — Over the Hills to the Poorhouse

Cardiology Partners — Please Search Your Heart

And finally . . .

Uncle Bill’s House of Demijohns — Hot Corn Cold Corn

The post From The Side of the Road… Hold What’cha Got appeared first on Bluegrass Today.

What began as a harmless case of missing snacks has now escalated into what experts are calling “the most Appalachian feud since the Hatfields and McCoys switched to decaf.”

The self-proclaimed “music phenomenon” known as The Cleverlys, along with Darren Nicholson of The Darren Nicholson Band and Caleb Smith of Balsam Range, are once again at odds — just in time for their shared appearance at the Balsam Range Art of Music Festival, December 5–6, in picturesque Lake Junaluska, North Carolina.

It all started years ago when Dr. Digger Cleverly, patriarch of the parody-bluegrass dynasty, accused Darren Nicholson (then a member of Balsam Range) of “living in the band van and stealing all the good snacks.” The alleged loot? Cheetos, Kit-Kats, corn (source unverified), and — the ultimate betrayal — double-dipping the Nutella in peanut butter.

Things took a darker (and smellier) turn when Digger reportedly mailed a Whitman’s Sampler box filled with animal feces to the Balsam Range camp. Sources close to both bands say the “gift really stunk up relations for a while.”

 

 

 

 

 

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A post shared by Darren Nicholson (@darrennicholsonmusic)

A short-lived truce was brokered by Sammy Shelor of Lonesome River Band, but peace went down the drain — literally — when a plunger was presented on stage at a later festival appearance.

Now, with all groups slated to share the same stage once more this December, tensions are high and the banjos are tuned for battle. Digger recently reignited the feud by referring to Darren as a “rabid hepatitis monkey with COVID.” Darren, visibly offended, fired back by mocking Digger’s hair — an act widely regarded as “below the belt but historically justified.”

 

 

 

 

 

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A post shared by The Cleverlys (@thecleverlysofficial)

Meanwhile, Caleb Smith has been accused of mailing Digger “an ugly stage dress to match his hair,” while Digger has begun circulating rumors that Darren underwent plastic surgery — including a Brazilian Butt Lift. Nicholson responded with shocking allegations involving the good doctor and some innocent sheep…. Things are getting quite heated.

 

 

 

 

 

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A post shared by The Cleverlys (@thecleverlysofficial)

 

 

 

 

 

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A post shared by Darren Nicholson (@darrennicholsonmusic)

When reached for comment, Digger said, “I only speak the truth — even when I have to make it up.” Darren replied, “I ain’t saying it’s true… but if I did have one, it’d be the best-looking butt in bluegrass.”

Festival organizers urge fans to “come for the music, stay for the drama,” while reminding attendees that security will confiscate all plungers, Nutella jars, and suspicious candy boxes at the gate.

The Balsam Range Art of Music Festival runs December 5–6, 2025, at Lake Junaluska, NC. Witness the bluegrass showdown of the decade — live, loud, and possibly messy.

The post Them’s Fightin’ Words! Feud re-erupts among bluegrass stars appeared first on Bluegrass Today.

I was recently sent a press release about a song that claimed it’s the “Hotel California of bluegrass” (because you can never leave?), and it got me thinking about these kinds of comparisons: “The American Pie of Bluegrass,” “The Mick Jagger of Bluegrass,” “The Don King of Bluegrass” (for a festival promoter), etc. 

There’s no harm in this. Sometimes it helps us look at aspects of the music in a new way. Mostly it’s a non-serious kind of comparison we just find amusing. One of my favorites was used to describe East Tennessee DJ Mike Kelly, who billed himself as “The Howard Stern of Bluegrass Gospel,” thus establishing himself as the undisputed leader of the bluegrass gospel “shock jock” market.

I also loved when, on a live album, Homer & Jethro referred to themselves as “The Everly Brothers of the Stone Age.”

Naturally, this form of comparison isn’t unique to bluegrass music or music in general. In the literary world, this is part of a broader category of figures of speech known as “synecdoche.” I don’t ever plan to use this word again (until I looked it up, I thought “Synecdoche” was a city in New York State, not far from Schenectady).

Nashville claims to be “The Athens of the South,” which has always led me to wonder what that makes Athens, Tennessee (“The Nashville of McMinn County”?), and where does that leave Athens, Greece? Nashville does have a replica of the Parthenon; perhaps some Greek entrepreneur could develop a whole simulated Beale Street in downtown Athens, with the goal of billing Athens as “The Memphis of Greece.” This would confuse everybody but might employ more Greek blues bands that could really use the work.

The legendary Nashville radio station WSM refers to itself as “The Air Castle of the South,” a claim no one disputes, especially since no one has any idea what an “air castle” actually is.

Maybe we should be using this descriptive device more often in our website bios and press releases, especially as we’re trying to avoid some of the overused adjectives we’ve discussed in previous columns.

It’s probably a good idea not to aim too high because it can come off as presumptuous. For that reason, you might want to avoid referring to your own band as “The Beatles of Bluegrass,” or your band’s lead singer as “The Elvis of Bluegrass” (unless he’s really got the moves and/or the jumpsuits).

However, if you’re about to release a new album that has a lot of songs on it but is lacking any ideas for cover design, you might try getting away with calling it “The White Album of Bluegrass.”

Here are a few other ideas:

If you’ve written a song that’s at least 12 verses long or involves a lot of death at sea, go ahead and call it “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald of Bluegrass.” If you have a song that involves fighting or avoiding a fight, call it “The Beat It of Bluegrass.”

Related to this, if you have a dancer in your band, you can try referring to him or her as “The Michael Jackson of Buckdancing.”

Do you have a short bandleader with dictator-like tendencies? “The Napoleon of Bluegrass.” 

If you have a bandleader who is less short but also with dictator-like tendencies and a fondness for taking his shirt off: “The Vladimir Putin of Bluegrass.”

Does your bandleader have dictator-like tendencies (are you picking up on a theme here?) and a huge shoe collection? Try “The Imelda Marcos of Bluegrass.”

Do you have a tenor singer with a powerful voice? Consider “The Pavarotti of Bluegrass Tenor” (the late great Texas country singer Johnny Bush was referred to as the “Country Caruso.”

If you have a guitar player who’s playing is on the notey side, you could go for a more obscure (and more Swedish) reference by calling him “The Yngwie Malmsteen of Bluegrass.”

A female vocalist with husky tone? “The Kim Carnes of Bluegrass.”

And, for a banjo player who does a bent-knee strut across the stage: “The Chuck Berry of the 5-string Banjo.” (Note: the instrument is so heavy that unless you’re Little Roy Lewis, you shouldn’t attempt stage moves of any kind with a banjo. They often lead to serious injury or death).

Does your band’s stage MC use humor that relies heavily on insulting the other band members? How about “The Don Rickles of Bluegrass”?

Finally, if your band has a mandolin player who sings tenor, plays a Lloyd Loar mandolin, and is fond of singing The Mule Skinner Blues, you should refer to him as “The Bill Monroe of Bluegrass.”

The post From The Side of the Road… are you the Vladimir Putin of Bluegrass? appeared first on Bluegrass Today.

I want to describe a scene at a typical bluegrass concert or festival that will probably be familiar to both artist and fan, and it may cause each to shudder just a little:

A fan walks up to a performer while he or she is working the merchandise table, looks the musician straight in the eye, and says these dreaded words: “I’ll bet you don’t remember me.”

If we’re honest, we’ll have to admit that a good 80% of artists, after not feeling even a hint of recognition, will simply lie: “Sure I do! How have you been?” It seems like the polite thing to do, and they hope that the next statement by this stranger will offer some guidance as to what to say next in order to keep this phony conversation from going over a cliff.

Some who are either from a background or region where bluntness is encouraged (e.g. from the greater New York area), or who are just having a bad day, will respond less charitably: “You’re right, I don’t. Remind me.” Some, having a really bad day, or who are having this conversation for the third time that day may say something like this: “You’re right; I don’t remember you, and I won’t remember you the next time I see you” (that’s a quote from somebody, but right now I can’t remember who).

Surely there’s a better way that might permit us to avoid lying or rudeness (as fashionable as both of those things may be these days). I think that better way might start with avoiding this conversation entirely.

The immediate problem with this approach as a conversation starter is that it sets up a challenge to the artist which is always going to be uncomfortable. It’s also inherently negative, reflecting badly on both the artist and fan: the artist is cast as someone who is likely not to remember fans who have possibly fed them a meal, babysat their children, or lent them $10,000. The fan, meanwhile, is set up as someone who isn’t worth remembering (“you probably don’t remember me”). It’s hard for anyone to feel satisfied in this situation.

I’m personally very happy and relieved when someone comes up to me and says, “You may not remember me; I’m Chester Campbell. We met nine years ago at the Blythe Bluegrass Festival in California.” This immediately removes all tension. He has given his name, plus a reminder of where we had met. This helps me to remember if I’m going to, and if I don’t, at least I can say, “Nice to see you again Chester,” without lying or being dismissive.

Even if a musician has a great memory for faces and experiences that happened over three days ago, the numbers are not working in his or her favor in this situation. A fan, even in our small-market music, is going to encounter far fewer professional bluegrass performers than those performers are going to encounter fans. 

Musicians are also easily disoriented. I could probably just let that statement stand alone, but I’ll elaborate: musicians may play in as many as seven different locations and venues in seven different days, meeting various fans in each place. Sometimes it’s difficult just placing someone in the right context in that sometimes hectic moment.

A fan’s appearance may have also changed a lot, especially if it’s been years and/or decades since the last meeting. The artist has probably changed a lot, too (probably for the worse), but thanks to the name on the marquee, the fan goes into this conversation already knowing who that artist is. 

For this reason, leveling the playing field is at least a polite gesture. There’s also really nothing to be gained by issuing the challenge.

For those performers who do have to answer this challenge, though, rather than opt for either the dishonest or brutally blunt reply, it might be good to try this middle ground: “I’m afraid you may have to remind me.” This is where you really have to hope the fan’s reply isn’t “I’m Natasha, the mother of three of your children.”

If you’re going to go the fake-your-way-through-the-conversation route, I would discourage getting cocky and adding unnecessary bogus details: “Of course I remember you! It’s been ages! Do you still have that old car? How’s Susan?” You’re banking on the fact that you didn’t just meet this person a week ago, that he owns a car, and that he knows someone named Susan. Maybe the odds are in your favor, but it’s still a risky strategy.

Finally, for the fan starting this conversation, I don’t think it’s necessary to give a reminder of who you are and how the artist knows you if:

1. You’re the artist’s mother
2. You housed the artist and band for over three years
3. You’re the artist’s booking agent (unless you haven’t booked a gig for over a year, then a reminder wouldn’t hurt)

Finally, turn your name tag the right side around at the IBMA World of Bluegrass, just to be safe.

The post From The Side of the Road… I bet you don’t remember me appeared first on Bluegrass Today.

Perhaps it was the approach of Halloween, or perhaps the post-IBMA World of Bluegrass mental fatigue, but my mind has suddenly turned to the macabre. 

More specifically, I’ve begun thinking about the writing on headstones. Epitaphs are often fascinating, sometimes horrifying, and occasionally just dull. But have you given any thought to what you would like said on your own gravestone?

This topic comes up in bluegrass songs now and then: In There Ain’t Nobody Gonna Miss Me When I’m Gone, the singer requests that those words (the title) be written on his or her headstone. “There Ain’t Nobody Gonna Miss Me When I’m Gone” is a pretty negative—or perhaps just overly honest—message to have on your own headstone, but that was what the request was, and it seems like it should be honored.

In the Pee Wee King classic, Thy Burdens Are Greater Than Mine, recorded by Hank Williams, the Stanley Brothers, and others, the final verse says:

On a stone these words were written
Thy soul is God’s thy memory mine
(or “your  soul is God’s . . .”)

That’s simple and touching, I think. But what about your own? Difficult as it is to talk about (“What are you thinking of having on your headstone?” makes a lousy conversation opener at parties), it would be a good idea to leave behind some instructions for whoever may be in charge of these arrangements for you.

Leaving it to friends, family members, or co-workers can be taking a big chance. A resentful brother may opt for something like, “He was spoiled by mom and dad but we’ll miss him.” A somewhat unhappy spouse may choose this: “Though inattentive and unfaithful, many considered him fun to hang out with in bars.”

Or worse, if you’re in a bluegrass band, allowing your bandmates to decide what goes on your headstone is especially risky. You could end up with these winners:

“He played pretty well in A”

“She liked to rehearse a lot”

If you’re a bluegrass musician or artist, you may have a vague idea of what you’d like to have “chiseled in stone” about you, but may not feel able to express it in the right way. I’m going to do my best to offer some suggestions. I’m afraid “Father of Bluegrass” and “King of Bluegrass” are already taken, but here are a few others. These are tailored to the kind of role you play in the business:

Banjo Player:

• His life had too many stickers for a single banjo case
• Forward was how she rolled
• His backup was as important as his lead
• Thumb-index-middle-thumb-index-middle . . . The End

Mandolin player:

• She was more in tune than most
• The slow man with the fast tremolo

Fiddle Player:

• What she lacked in taste she more than made up for in intonation
• The angels are requesting Sally Good’n right now

A lead singer/band leader:

• We always told him how important he was… and he seemed to believe us
• We’ll miss her voice, her presence, her autograph
• He knew every word to Barbara Allen and The Little Glass of Wine
• We were all terribly impressed

Musician, general:

• It was all about the groupies and the backstage snacks
• It was all going so well until her love asked her to take a walk down to the Ohio River

Audio engineer:

• Though some say it could have used more digital editing, his was a well-mixed life

RIP

The post From The Side of the Road… Won’t you write these words? appeared first on Bluegrass Today.

Chris returns to a video format for his new October column, seeing if classic bluegrass songs can fit a contemporary country ballad template. After a brief introduction, he puts his theory to the test, with mixed results.

Feel free to take your own stab at this, sharing your YouTube videos in the comments.

The post From The Side of the Road… that sounds so familiar! appeared first on Bluegrass Today.

In a previous column I delved into the bluegrass analogy, which when used properly (adhering strictly to state and local guidelines on bluegrass analogy use), can be a method of explaining various things to bluegrass musicians and fans who might just tune you out otherwise, by relating it to bluegrass music in some way. I figured at the time that I had offered just enough examples to keep the eager Bluegrass Today readership satisfied, but oh no! Apparently it is now my duty to provide bluegrass analogies for everything from the homogenization of milk to the assassination of Archduke Ferdinand (“the Roy Lee Centers of the Austro-Hungarian Empire”).

It’s as if I had just finished pouring my heart and soul into a new album, and one week after the release date, people start asking when the follow-up is coming out.

You see? Once you start bluegrass analogizing, you just can’t stop. It’s like playing Reuben in a jam session with five banjo players in it.

I won’t make any promises, but I’ll do what I can. 

First, to dispense with the milk one: homogenization of milk is like when you’re mixing a record, and instead of having the banjo panned all the way to the left, and the mandolin to the right, you blend them together somewhat, creating a more coherent and less separated sound. It sounds good, but you can abandon your plans of skimming off the mandolin part to make butter.

The formation of tornadoes, which results from the collision of cold and warm air, in which the warm air twists into a rotating funnel cloud:

It’s like two very different bands are playing back-to-back at a festival, say, Junior Sisk and Railroad Earth. They draw very different crowds that overlap with each other as one band takes the stage and the other leaves. Some tension develops between a few of the fans, and a fight breaks out, gradually involving more people in a random pattern, eventually doing damage to property, including the rolling of a few RVs. Some festival thrill-seekers unwisely try to get close to the conflict to take pictures. Sometimes they’re killed.

The stock market, or how companies use publicly-traded stock to capitalize and expand their business:

It’s like using crowd-sourcing to fund your album. The money put in by fans of an artist is used to finance the cost of recording and producing a new album. In the same way that investors in a company’s stock receive financial rewards when the company’s profits grow, a fan who invests money in the recording project will receive a signed T-shirt, coffee mug, or special seating at the artist’s next show (on the stage just behind the bass player). At least they’ll get a CD. Or not. Sometimes people who invest in the stock market don’t get anything either.

The electoral college:

It would be as if the IBMA awards were determined not by the votes of the general membership, but by different constituencies within the IBMA, like the Artists and Composers, each with a different number of “supervotes,” determined by the number of representatives each constituency has on the board of directors. Members’ votes within each region are tallied and the supervotes are awarded based on a winner-take-all system. Because it’s possible for some constituencies to be won by wider or narrower margins than others, a majority of the supervotes may not correspond to a majority of general members’ votes, occasionally resulting in, for example, the Entertainer of the Year award going to someone who didn’t receive the most votes. This makes the nominee who did receive the most votes more than a little sore about it. 

This system was devised so we could have fun explaining it to people from other organizations who have no earthly idea what we’re doing. Now that I’ve explained it that way, I’m not sure I understand it either. However, I do know that the Merchandisers and Luthiers constituency is always considered a “swing group” leading publicists to spend most of their time working on them during the awards voting season.

Parasites:

Parasites are like musicians within a band, who, though they seem to be musically competent, exist only for their own benefit, and gradually suck the creative lifeblood out of the group, almost enough to kill it, but not quite. Through the life-cycle of their time in the band, they manage to make all other band members weak, listless, and generally unhappy. No one wants to work up new material and tempos start to drag. Meanwhile the one destructive member keeps gaining weight, grinning evilly, and humming Oh Death to himself. The replacement of this musician before this debilitating effect spreads is the equivalent of a band worming.

Please make me stop doing this. It’s like singing all the verses to . . . never mind.

The post From The Side of the Road… explaining difficult concepts with bluegrass analogies appeared first on Bluegrass Today.

If you made it to the inaugural IBMA World of Bluegrass in Chattanooga, I hope it was a good one for you, a week filled with positive contacts and a negative COVID test.

Just when we all were home and recovering came the news that the end of the world and/or the rapture was going to be happening on September 23rd (yesterday, if you’re reading this on Wednesday). The 23rd of September as “the day” had a familiar ring to it, so I searched my past columns, and sure enough the world as we know it was supposed to end on September 23rd back in 2017. That year it would have been right before the start of the World of Bluegrass in Raleigh. We were all still here on September 24th, 2017, and I’m pretty sure we’re all here now. I wrote about it at the time:

Greetings from Raleigh, NC. I can happily report that I’m sleep-deprived but still breathing, and I consider that a personal victory. Even better news: the world is still turning.

I mentioned last week that people seem to love (perhaps “hate less” would be more accurate) the subject of bluegrass haiku. Perhaps running a close second is any discussion of the end of the world as it relates to bluegrass music. Let’s face it: people can’t get enough of the bluegrass End Times, or “Grandfather’s Clockalypse,” as it’s sometimes called.

I’ve tackled this issue at least a few times in the past, and that’s only because just about every couple of years some preacher, radio host, or random dude predicts that “date X” is going to be The End. These prognosticators have about the same level of credibility as that guy who emails you hoping you’ll pass on your personal banking information so you’ll accept his deposit of unclaimed millions currently sitting in a west African bank. Still, enough people seem to fall for it to generate book sales, and they quickly work on getting their affairs in order (or they just have affairs), or they take up hang gliding. 

I return to this topic once again because the latest such prediction of doom called for the world to end last on Saturday September 23rd. This isn’t the first time an apocalyptic prediction like this has fallen around the time of the IBMA World of Bluegrass, and as a supporter of the IBMA and its event, I resent it. It’s clearly a depressor of trade show and awards show sales. Most people, when they think the earth is doomed just three days before a costly convention, will opt to get their money back, cancel the trip, and spend quality time with those they love. After all, in spite of its array of benefits, one thing the IBMA World of Bluegrass isn’t known for is the opportunity to spend quality time with anyone, let alone loved ones. The empty phrase, “let’s get together this week” is usually as far as it goes. Others, upon hearing the world is set to expire in late September, opt to do something adventurous like ride on top of a cross-country train, go snorkeling in Lake Erie, or play Sally Good’n in B flat. Apparently they don’t care as much about their loved ones.

By the time last Sunday had arrived and we all seemed to still be here, most people were not in a position to change plans again and make the trip to Raleigh on short notice. I think there’s no question that September eschatology is bad for our industry (this entire column was a flimsy excuse to work that word in — it means the study of end times, or possibly the study of feces, unless that’s “scatology”; at the moment I’m not 100% sure).

I don’t need to rehash the signs that this September 23rd it really was going to be The End. They tend to be the same every time: “It’s clear the world is ending because we’ve had bad hurricanes, earthquakes, a solar eclipse, and a few key countries are being run by madmen. Also, the Middle East is a mess.” Gee, those things have never happened before. This time, there was a new planet that was going to obliterate us, too, and that’s not particularly new either.

In future years (because apparently there are still going to be a few of those) can we all just relax and hold on to our World of Bluegrass event tickets?  On the other hand, if you decide you want to give up your Marriott hotel room on the non-jamming floor, please let me know.

In closing, I’d like to reprint a little parody song I wrote the last time the world didn’t end right before the IBMA World of Bluegrass. It’s sung to the tune of the Skeeter Davis hit, The End of the World:

The End of the World (of Bluegrass)

Why does the band go on playing?
Why does this showcase drag on?
Don’t they know it’s the end of the world?
By now I thought we’d all be gone

Why are they still out there schmoozing?
Why do they give out awards?
Don’t they know it’s the end of the world?
A gig fair won’t help us anymore

Chorus:

I woke up at 11:00 with a headache
And the World of Bluegrass still is here it seems
I can’t understand, but mostly I’m tired
I’ll hit the snooze, perhaps it’s all a dream

Why does that fiddle keep screeching?
Is this not a non-jamming floor?
It may be the end of the world
But I’ve still got a seminar at 4:00

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