Old Time, Celtic, Maritime Music, Gardening and Small Scale Farming

I didn't know I was a musician gardener.
All my life I've loved getting my hands dirty gardening, keeping small livestock, and playing traditional music, but I always thought that was just a peculiar combination that occurs in a completely random fashion. But one day my wife Sara and I were talking with a neighbor who ran a one acre educational garden down the street from us. He mentioned that as soon as the growing season was over he was going to hit the road with a bluegrass band he played with. He smiled and said that he felt really blessed to live the life he had- getting to play in the dirt and play on the stage. I had no idea he played in a bluegrass band so we talked shop about music, gardening, and travelling for a bit. After we said goodbye and started walking away Sara turned to me and said "oh I know what you guys are, you're Musician Gardeners."
Suddenly it clicked, all my life I've known and met people who combine their lives like that. friends, neighbors and other folks who combine their love of the land with a love of music, often the very music that grew and still grows out of that land.
This blog hopes to explore that relationship and to let other Musician Gardeners out there know that we're actually a demographic!

Friday, January 13, 2012

Music That Gives Us a "Sense of Place."

You know it when you hear it.  The kind of song that brings forth visions of the landscape and the lifeway that created it.  These are the songs and tunes that seem to grow right out of the dirt.  This is the music that I love.  I used to think that it had to be an old crusty ballad or a dance tune from somewhere way back in time, but it doesn't have to be.  I heard a great quote on a radio interview recently from a group of musicians who were finishing some of Hank William's uncompleted songs.  One of them said he loved a hank williams tune, that it seemed so natural, like it was something that was planted and just grew up out of the soil.  Something that belonged there. 
I hear bits and pieces of modern songs that have that feel.  Like when I was driving through the wheat country outside of Walla Walla and Susan Werner's "Barbed Wire Boys" came on the radio.  That song and the land that I drove through became one and visions of vast cornfields, river valleys, and crusty old ball-caped men in greasy midwestern diners flashed through my head.  Like my friend Jimmy who I knew back in wisconsin who had hands like sides of beef from milking cows and pounding fences for thirty years.  The palouse is not all that different a place than many parts of the midwestern landscape that I grew up in and that song helped me connect my old home with the new, helped me sink my roots a little deeper.
I think learning songs that can connect us with land and culture are some of the most important ways we can find a sense of place.  I think that's one of the biggest problems we face as a country that we feel so disconnected even to the point that disconnection itself has become a way of life.  Everyone is plugged in, online, and yes connected but to who?  To where?  Where are we, who are we?  Have we sacrified connection to land and culture for connection to a virtual world?  Do we really derive more satisfaction from virtual connection then we can from connection to a landscape and a lifeway?
There are many many benefits to the new technologies that constantly surround us, and I'm not saying we shouldn't have it both ways.  I am, after all, writing a blog post for god's sake.  I just think that knowing and learning music that grew up out of the land, out of the culture you find yourself surrounded by, out of the people who made the place you live the way it is today can help give us that connection, help feed our roots, our sense of history and continuity, and give us a reason to love the land we live on.
I recently had the pleasure and priveledge to take part in the Gary Eller's smithsonian's instute project "The Way We Worked in Idaho."(more about him below). I helped in recording the song Fifty Thousand Lumberjacks, an old union logging song recorded in St. Maries not far from here around 1917.  The wonderful Shayne Watkins of the band "Beargrass" asked me to accompany him on this tune.  Recording was great fun and an important experience for me since learning that song helped me to feel more connected to and more a part of this region on the very edge of the bitter root mountains where timber holds as much importance as wheat.
Both Shayne and my Wife are foresters as well so along with talk about managing today's forestlands I can now reflect at least a little on what the loggers who shouldered the roots of this industry were thinking and feeling.... and singing.

You can listen to the Fifty Thousand Lumberjacks and learn more Idaho songs at the website and mp3 link below:
http://www.bonafidaho.com
http://www.bonafidaho.com/FiftyThousandLumberjacksVariant.mp3
Much Thanks to Gary Eller, creator of bonafidaho, and without whom these wonderful songs might have been lost to the dustbins of history.

1 comment:

  1. Greg,
    Right on, partner! I sure can relate to your "sense of place" sentiments regarding music. I, too, prefer the earthy tones of acoustic instruments, and clear, clean, vocal harmonies. And, like you, I'm partial to songs that describe our interactions with nature. I like the stories from yesteryear with themes of hard work, strong values of family amd country, good honest fun, love, etc., but I'm especially drawn in to songs that describe our interations with nature. Whether it's a celebration of nature's beauty and bounties, or the mournful grieving of loss caused by Mother Nature's random acts of destruction. I've heard you sing some old sailing songs about ships and sailors lost at sea. Do you sing any songs about the dust bowl years?
    You have caused me to think about my favorite songs, (Tall Pines, Bramble and the Rose, Song of the Honeysuckle, and Heart Strings to name a few)and I have to say, nature is a common theme. My grandmother likes to close hear eyes when I sing "Lost River" because the story paints a picture in her mind.
    Speaking of Grandma, her dad and grandpa were lumberjacks. My dad, grandpa, and his dad were all lumbermen, all in the heart of Idaho around the McCall area. So, getting asked to sing and record the Lumberjack song for the Smithsonian project was very flattering and fun. A kind of "back to my roots" opportunity. Thank you so much for helping me, and for your talented contributions to that song.
    Well, sorry I got so long winded; this is the first time I have "posted" on a blog for anyone, anywhere.
    Cheers,
    Shayne Watkins

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