Why I am in Critical Grass

Being in a band is hard. It requires multiple people to work together, find artistic compromise, struggle to find the Venn diagram overlap of schedule availability, and navigate the ten one-on-one relationships. But the blessings are extraordinary. I was reminded of three such at the Parkfield festival, any one of which makes all the struggle totally worthwhile.

Riding the wave

Sunday morning at Parkfield, the last of our three sets during the festival. Leah prepared the set list on Saturday afternoon, and she found an awesome pairing to close the show — Peter Rowan's version of the folk classic Moonshiner, segued into the Deadhead favorite I Know You Rider. I worried a little that we might run over time, but Jeremy, understated, but always on-point, said, "Once we start Rider, what are they gonna do?" Irrefutable logic.

The segue was seamless and we were on the last song of a four-day weekend. John, Jeremy, and Leah had just finished singing a chorus, somebody took a solo, and it was time for John to sing a verse. I was tucked up next to Chris, digging his rhythm playing. I glanced over at John, but he wasn't stepping up to the mic to sing. My first thought was that he couldn't remember the first line to the verse. This happens to all singers on occasion, but it is hardly a bump in the road. The musical theater world long ago named the solution: "Vamp 'til ready." Just keep playing the same passage until the actor hits their mark (or the singer remembers a verse).

But on second glance, I realized that John wasn't mentally searching for a verse. He was riding the wave of jam. He knew this was the last hurrah for a while, and just wanted a few extra measures on the crest of the wave. I hear you John, and thank you for those 10 extra seconds — they were glorious.

Are you the musicians?

Friday afternoon, John, my wife Lisa, and I were standing in line at the Lodge to get  lunch. A 7-year-old boy approached us, looked at John and me.

"Are you the musicians?"

Well, yes, we're some of the musicians.

"You were so good. I loved listening to you."

He was just beaming with joy, getting to meet with a couple of the performers. We made introductions — we were visiting with Justin.

John: "Do you play an instrument?"

"Not really. I mean, I bang around on guitar and banjo, but I don't really play."

I wasn't having that.

"Justin, if you have a guitar in your hands, you're playing it. And that makes you a musician. You're part of the musician team now, and you have a musical voice that nobody else has. You be sure to share that, okay?

Justin nodded solemnly.

Maybe we gave Justin a little boost to pick up his guitar more often. Or to sing a song for a friend or parent. I'm proud of that.

Did you sing that song?

We had just said good-bye to Justin and were walking to our table. As we did, we passed Chris and his wife Maria having lunch. He stopped us, "You need to hear this story..."

"A woman approached me after our set this morning and said, 'Did you sing that song?'"

"What song?"

"That song." Then Chris got it. He had sung Joe Troop's Dreamer that morning. A song about a boy who was smuggled across the southern border of the U.S. when he was one. The woman explained to Chris that she’s a teacher, and had brought a class of her students to the festival that day. Which explained the well-behaved kids in the first two rows of the audience that morning. Some of whom had brown skin. Now, bluegrass is a lot of things, but sadly it doesn’t really reach into the Latino community. I certainly couldn’t remember a handful of brown-skinned kids attentively listening to a Critical Grass show. 

The teacher went on to tell Chris about an interaction she had with one of her older pupils. This girl, a Latina, had come to the teacher after the set. She was deeply touched that this old “white” man was singing a song directly to her.

I don’t know this young woman’s story, and it’s none of my business. But when we performed Dreamer, when Chris sang it, she felt seen. 

The good that we get, and give

Maybe it’s sufficient to have those moments where I’m sharing the musical energy and joy with my band-mates. But when we make a connection with Justin, or that young woman in the second row… that’s why I’m in this band. 

That’s why I’m in Critical Grass.

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