Harmonious

Of the brother duos so popular in the 1930s, The Monroe Brothers had speed. Bill and Earl Bollick, collectively known as The Blue Sky Boys, had beautiful, intricate harmonies like these.

This is “Happy Sunny Side Of Life”.

Hank Williams, High Lonesome Style

Maybe it's that high lonesome sound, but, for some reason, the songs of Hank Williams sound especially good when done in the bluegrass style. This one is no exception.

 Here are The Shenandoah Cut-ups in their gospel incarnation, The Shenandoah Valley Quartet, with “How Can You Refuse Him Now”.

Music For A Funeral

In the superb documentary, High Lonesome: The Story Of Bluegrass Music, Ralph Stanley sings a bit of this by himself. As you might expect, it is stark, spooky, autumnal. Strangely enough, this version, with it's trio harmonies, only serves to intensify those effects.

Music for a funeral from Ralph Stanley and The Clinch Mountain Boys, with "Village Church Yard".

Bluegrass From Another World

“Otherworldly” is not an adjective I’ve ever applied to a bluegrass record, but if ever a bluegrass record deserved to be called otherworldly, it’s this one. Stranger still is that it’s sung by two of the least otherworldly singers you could name – Bill Monroe and Jimmy Martin, along with banjoist Rudy Lyle. In fact, that’s young Jimmy Martin playing the guitar in the video still.

A few people have tried to cover this number, with no success whatsoever. They only succeed in pulling it down to earth when it needs to float up and away, as it does in the opening credits of the bluegrass documentary, “High Lonesome”. That opening sequence sends chills up my spine every time I hear it.

This is “A Voice From On High”.

The Crooked Gospel Way

 Gospel music has always been a part of bluegrass music and culture; Bill Monroe, the father of bluegrass, designed it that way. “It’s got Methodist, Baptist, and Holiness singing,” Monroe said of bluegrass, naming three Christian denominations with three then-distinct singing styles.

Anyone who has an inside knowledge of bluegrass can point to artists, past and present, whose sanctimonious public personas hardly match up to their hell-raising, sometimes addicted, sometimes downright mean private selves.

Some people would like to use that knowledge an excuse to jettison gospel music from bluegrass altogether. After all, if these artists are in such bondage to their socially-conservative culture, shouldn’t we free them — and non-Christian bluegrass fans in the process — from it?

Sure, if you think they’re so ignorant, culturally-unaware, and disempowered that they need you to come in and improve their culture for them.

For those who are still in school learning about these things, that’s called cultural imperialism. It’s just as ugly when upper-middle class white Americans force it on working-class, Appalachian southerners as when the American government forces it on, say, Native Americans.

That said, bluegrass gospel music will be a regular feature here on Uncouth Utterance. Doubtless that will irritate the stuffing out of some of you.

I’m fine with that. Cultural imperialism? Not so much.

This is a very early recording of The Louvin Brothers from a live, local radio show with “The Gospel Way”.

A Record For Record Store Day

I love The Stanley Brothers. Ralph’s banjo sound has been likened to the sound of flying ice chips. Indeed, they sent every note flying as though it would be their last. For Carter, it almost was – more than once. I think he knew he didn’t have long.

This gospel number goes a mile a minute, kindly like Brother Carter did. Here’s “That Home Far Away”.

The Best Bluegrass Gospel Album You've Never Heard

... and I have no idea why that is. "The Voice Of God" landed with a thud when it was released in 2010, in a genre where gospel records typically receive generous reviews, consistent airplay, and brisk sales.

It isn't the first time I've said in these pages that The Voice Of God is one of the best, most innovative bluegrass gospel CDs ever recorded. Mentioning it again so soon has made me wonder whether it's that very innovation that scared folks away. Then again, maybe it was all about the message of Jesus vs. the message of church culture.

A lot of gospel, regardless of genre, is short on theology and long on the hereafter. While the hereafter is why gospel is here, so to speak, there are people on earth right now who need Jesus' message of love, healing and forgiveness. Then, there's the welcome condemnation of hypocrites -- something Jesus also preached regularly that might hit a little too close to home for some.

Nevertheless, Don Rigsby has collected a fresh, eclectic group of songs peopled with hypocrites, liars, alcoholics, prostitutes, drifters, orphans, addicts, thieves, and Christian faithful -- exactly the kinds of people to whom Jesus preached. The songs come from writers as diverse as Albert Brumley, Gillian Welch, Skip Ewing, Tom T. and Dixie Hall, Paul Craft, and Phil Wiggins (of Cephas and Wiggins).

The musical styles run the gamut from mountain balladry to country gospel, from blues to bluegrass gospel (from both black and white gospel repertoire). Through it all, Rigsby and his crackerjack band, Midnight Call, keep their fingers firmly on the pulse of traditional, high-lonesome bluegrass. Audiences have come to expect spine-tingling harmonies and sky-high leads from Rigsby and his band. They won't be disappointed.

There wasn't a more innovative bluegrass album released in 2010 -- or a better one. "The Voice of God" should appeal to hardcore fans and newcomers alike. Maybe it will, if I tout it to a completely new audience.

Download this one, folks. If traditional bluegrass can accept blues (Rory Block makes a memorable appearance here) and black gospel from the likes of Bill Monroe and The Nashville Bluegrass Band, surely it can accept them from Don Rigsby, too.

Ron Block: DoorWay

Ron Block is the sort of Christian artist who opens minds simply because his presentation is so atypical. But on DoorWay, his second solo outing, that freshness is only partially evident.

“The Kind of Love” gets the album off to a passionate — perhaps even challenging — start. “I want to get inside your heart/To have your heart to live in me/The two to make one beat.” As Block writes in his song notes, “God created us for union with Himself; the Bible is full of depictions of God as a lover.”

Block explores this concept further in the title cut (“Hands and knees on the desert floor/Pounding out a prayer to the Lover of his soul”) and “The Blackness of the Need” (“I knew I knew the answer ‘cause I’ve seen it all before/You’re the only answer I can see/And when the question’s ended I will say forevermore/I found You in the blackness of the need.”) This is as far away from “Jesus Loves Me” in whole notes as you can get — a spiritual palate cleanser that brings new inspiration with every reading.

“Love’s Living Through Me When I Do” succeeds with a plainspoken lyric about our faulty perception of separateness from God: “The problem lives in what I see/A separate Him outside a separate me.” “Someone” offers more subtle pleasures. It’s the story of a man who leaves the spiritual home of God’s loving embrace to seek his own vision of Paradise. That it follows the same arc as the “leaving home to seek greener pastures” stories so often told in classic bluegrass gives it a cultural resonance both deep and haunting.

Fans of Block’s bluegrass work will be pleased to find two bluegrass numbers here. “Along the Way” is driven by the superstar trio of Block on banjo, Dan Tyminski on guitar, and Stuart Duncan on fiddle. “Be Assured,” one of the highlights of Tyminski’s first solo project, boasts equally capable instrumental work from Block and Duncan, especially.

The prickly guitar intro to “Flame,” and its vivid lyrical images, wouldn’t have been out of place on U2’s classic album The Joshua Tree. After spending a lifetime lost in a spiritual wilderness, the wandering soul who tells this story has the devil’s number: “You crucified the Son of Love/He called your work His Father’s cup/Risen from among the dead/Messiah’s heel crushed Serpent’s head.”

With all that promise, “Flame” falters with a generic B theme that’s much weaker than its thrilling opening. That, in essence, is DoorWay’s fatal flaw. Despite some worthwhile — even extraordinary — elements, the album is marred by generic melodies, performances, and production values.

Block’s most powerful lyrics (“The Kind of Love,” “DoorWay,” “The Blackness of the Need,” “Flame”) are blunted by the kind of one-size-fits-all melodies that are all too prevalent in terrestrial radio formats from smooth jazz to adult contemporary to New Age to Christian (The album’s back-to-back instrumental tracks, “Secret of the Woods and “I See Thee Nevermore” are just as anonymous.) Lyrics this intense deserve music to match, and it simply isn’t to be found here. And, while Block (who sings lead throughout) is a competent vocal technician, he lacks the nuance, power, and distinctive delivery necessary to be a memorable lead singer.

“Love’s Living Through Me When I Do,” with its promising minor key melody, is emblematic of the way the entire album is undercut by a production style that’s almost numbingly homogenous. Block has assembled a stellar roster of guest musicians, but their distinctiveness is buried in the production.

The uniqueness that made A-list musicians out of Alison Krauss, Jerry Douglas, Stuart Duncan, Sonya Isaacs, Suzanne Cox, and Homer, Lisa, and Lori Forbes is smothered in a production that harkens back to the country music of the 50s, with its anonymous choirs of backing vocalists. Only Tyminski’s vocals (barely) escape this fate.

“DoorWay” was made to fulfill a spiritual hunger, and it succeeds admirably on that level. Those looking to fulfill a musical hunger will have to look elsewhere.

Originally published on The Lonesome Road Review.

30-Day Music Challenge: Day 11

11. A song that you never get tired of.

I've said more than once that some of Ralph Stanley's tunes hit so close to home that he might have been reading my diary. And, when I say close to home, I mean autobiographical -- what Bill Monroe might have called "true songs".

This one is certainly true for me, in all its vulnerability and pain. These are The Stanley Brothers with "He Said If I Be Lifted Up".

A Lesson In Musicianship

What a good lesson this is on how to keep things interesting when you’ve performed a song many, many times over

Notice how guitarist Phil Rosenthal, mandolinist John Duffey, and bassist Tom Gray each  take charge of tone and tempo in their solo vocal spots, yet the performance maintains a cohesive feel. If you know the recorded version, which includes all in this lineup but Rosenthal, you’ll appreciate how ingeniously they’ve changed it up.

These are musicians at the top of their game – The Seldom Scene with “Traveling On and On”.

Monroe Family History

Recorded in 1969 for an event at the Smithsonian, this interview excerpt features Bill Monroe, along with his brothers, Charlie and Birch, being interviewed by Mike Seeger, and an unidentified man.

The clip begins with Charlie’s description of the brothers’ early instruction in shape note singing, and ends with the three singing two gospel numbers — “He Will Set Your Fields On Fire” and “I Know My Lord’s Gonna Lead Me Out”. Birch is on bass, Charlie on lead. Bill’s tenor, of course, is unmistakable.

The Unique Sound of Phil Cook

I had never heard of Phil Cook until I found the video of his performance with Nnenna Frelon, which I posted just a couple of weeks back. While I've discovered that I much prefer his banjo work, I love what he does here on guitar. He doesn't sound like anyone else, which is far more than you can say for any and every currently working lead guitarist in, say, bluegrass. How refreshing!

Equally-refreshing is Cook's choice to cover gospel singer/songwriter, Washington Phillips, whose work -- especially lyrically -- was far ahead of its time.

This one's a little more typical of gospel lyrics. It wasn't written by Phillips, who popularized it, but by Charles Tindley. Nevertheless, it's a tune much covered in Americana circles. This is Phil Cook with "Leave It There".

Shakin' Up Church, Blues-Style

Paul Jones got this one from Mississippi Fred McDowell, which is not, in itself, daring. The provocative elements in this performance are the lovely, slow build; the spare arrangement (unusual, particularly in this setting); and Jones' matter-of-fact virtuosity, which, some would say is sacrilegious in this setting. They are wrong.

There are no theatrics here; Jones is the best at what he does, and naturally-charismatic besides. He doesn't need anything else, and he knows it. That, too, is refreshing, and again, unusual and welcome in this setting. Here's Paul Jones of Manfred Mann (known these days as "The Manfreds") with Mississippi Fred McDowell's "You Gotta Move".

False Friends In Jesus' Name

Sister Rosetta Tharp may sound like she has a bird's-eye view, but what she has here is an intimate knowledge of Christian culture. See, everybody has experienced the pain of betrayal at the hands of a false friend, but only those who've experienced it in church have known the pain of being told that the actions of their betrayers are sanctioned by "a personal relationship with Jesus Christ".

Yeah, no.

I should probably have posted this over on Dear Dominionists. If I had, I could've given y'all the relevant Bible verse, but that would have meant leaving a lot of people out. So, let me say this: If your god sanctions gossip and betrayal, it's time to find a new one.

Here's Sister Rosetta Tharpe with "Don't Take Everybody To Be Your Friend".

Multiple Meanings

Songs can have a lot of different meanings.

Ricky Skaggs, who wrote this one, sings it about a crisis of faith within himself. Others would see it as the story of their faith journey, with all its ups and downs. A lot of conservative  evangelicals would use it as a warning non-believers, sort of in the mold of  "The goblins gonna gitcha if ya don't watch out."

Sigh.

Yeah, sometimes the people who would most like to ditch Jesus are the ones who brag the loudest about loving Him.

This is Ricky Skaggs with a deeply-introspective and haunting tune called "You Can't Shake Jesus".

The Low Country Boys learned this hymn from a Doc Watson record and, I must say, their version beats his by a mile. It's also just about the best work the Ulster-Scots ever did.

This is "Did Christ O'er Sinners Weep?"

The 70s Are Back -- In A Good Way

EDITOR'S NOTE:
I was all wrong about how long Reef has been around. I corrected the oversight in this post.

Just when I never thought I would hear sounds like this again.

I mean, there are plenty of new bands that incorporate retro sounds and textures into their work, but what rock band even does gospel anymore? And how many singers have the pipes to stand up to a full gospel choir?

Gary Stringer of Reef, for one. Stringer's vocals are more Axl Rose than Lou Gramm, and the contrast with the rollicking keyboards (piano and organ!), handclaps, and Dominic Greensmith's propulsive, no-nonsense drumming is delicious. No other band sounds like this, and in this age of cookie-cutter "artists", half-baked on increasingly-dull vocal competition shows, that's a genuine triumph. The only thing missing is the sound of Jesse Wood's guitar (Yeah, he's Ronnie Wood's boy, and Reef's newest member, having joined in 2014).

These guys have had some good luck; they opened up for Coldplay just last week. But they've been laboring in semi-obscurity for well over a decade, and they deserve a higher profile. I'm just doing my part.

Oh, and before you start whingeing as they say in the U.K. -- it's almost onomatopoeic, isn't it? -- about how I, as a Christian, shouldn't be endorsing "worldly" types who take the Jesus out of Jesus music ... don't.

Here's Reef, with a song popularized by gospel great, Clara Ward -- "How I Got Over".

Hope and Truth

Ralph Stanley. Because who else can you count on for a hopeful, yet truthful, song about death?

This one's called "Gloryland".

If you have friends in Gloryland
Who left because of pain,
Thank God up there, they’ll die no more
They’ll suffer not again

Then weep not friends, I‘m going home
Up there we’ll die no more
No coffins will be made up there
No graves on that bright shore

The lame will walk in Gloryland
The blind up there will see
The deaf in Gloryland will hear
The dumb will talk to me

The doctor will not have to call
The undertaker – no
There’ll be no pain up there to bear
Just walk the streets of gold

We’ll need no sun in Gloryland
The moon and stars won’t shine
For Christ himself is light up there
He reigns of love divine

Then weep not friends, I’m going home
Up there we’ll die no more
No coffins will be made up there
No graves on that bright shore

A "Yay, Heaven!" song with a difference: none of the obnoxious and entirely-unwarranted triumphalism that you hear in so many of these things.

Caleb Klauder -- he's the mandolin picker -- wrote this one, and it has a quality that gospel is sadly lacking these days: it is an absolute blast. The Cajun feel that comes from Sammy Lind's fiddle, and is underscored by Nadine Landry's rollicking bass line, has a lot to do with that.

It seems that Foghorn Stringband think so, too; they look and sound as though they're having the time of their lives.

Here they are with "Innocent Road".
 

I am so, so happy to be sharing sacred harp music with you today. If sacred harp singing intrigues you at all, you must see this documentary for historical, cultural, and musical context. You might also like this video, featuring voluble musicologist, Alan Lomax, and some knowledgeable friends.

In the meantime, take a look at the trailer for "Awake My Soul: The Story of the Sacred Harp". You can purchase the film on Amazon, or stream it on Netflix.

Side note: The first generation of bluegrass musicians had sacred harp singing in their bones. They grew up with it, and incorporated many of its hymns and stylistic elements into bluegrass music.