It has been a helluva long time since the old blog has seen any action. Credit this entry to a growing desire to exercise the writing muscles, to keep more folks up on what’s happening in my life and the prodding of my friend Wes who has fired up his own blog of late and put some very worthwhile thoughts in cyberspace for others to dine on.

Andrea and I ventured down to Tacoma on Saturday to take in Wintergrass, an indoor bluegrass festival.  My ear has always enjoyed a good fiddle, banjo, mando and guitar.  In the past several years, I’ve been listening and learning a lot more about the genre and this was definitely a huge leap in that direction.  We heard local groups such as Three Generations and the Tallboys as well as bigger names like the Infamous Stringdusters (Nashville) and Seldom Scene (DC area).  I always enjoy the hearing Joe Fulton saw on the fiddle and Charlie Beck roll some banjo (Tallboys), but the big thrill was hearing Dudley Connell of Seldom Scene.  He plays rhythm guitar and is the lead vocal for the group.  If there is anyone I can say that I “follow”, it’s him.  I first heard him on some recordings of his other main band The Johnson Mountain Boys.  His smooth voice and amazing repertoire of bluegrass songs really draw me in.  He can put so much heart in songs such as “Blue Diamond Mines” and “Dream of a Miner’s Child” and then belt out a good ol’ boy ramblin’ song from Bill Monroe.  We went to a smaller gathering where he and the band answered questions and it was really cool. 

The other experience worth noting was going to a workshop called, “The Gist of Jamming.”  The halls of this festival were filled with two types of people:  pickers that were jamming and singing with one another and those that wished they could.  I was one of the latter who chose to bring his mandolin and carry it around the festival.  I tried to sit on the edge of a jam when we first arrived and felt like I was trying to find my way in a Swahili conversation group.  So this workshop was definitely for me.  This hotel conference room was filled to the brim with hope and fear–aspiring folks with instruments in tow, salivating over and scared to death of…jamming.

The kind and patient women leading the workshop walked us through some of the basics and etiquette of the topic which were easy enough to comprehend.  I couldn’t help feeling a bit like an awkward college freshman at a workshop on how to start conversations and make new friends.  Then we grouped up in a big circle, categorized by instruments.  This was another notch of scary.  The ladies picked a simple tune and played it slow so each group had a chance to be “featured” just like in a jam session.  When it came to the mandolins, I just wished I could play AND be invisible.  It was as if even the chords I do know just vanished from my mind.  I was trying to draw courage and inspiration from the 10-year old kid sitting beside me playing his fiddle and eager to learn. 

I kept trying to keep up and to improvise a little.  If I hadn’t been seated near the front of the room with a jungle of fiddlers and bassists between the door, I might just have bolted for the door.  By the end of the third song and the workshop, I was finally feeling a sense of eagerness and happiness that I participated.  Like other stressful, new experiences, it feels like it paved the way to get involved with other musicians, learn more songs and continue to become a better player.