BLUEGRASS PLAYS THE BLUES; WHO KNEW?

Doyle Lawson at intermission, surrounded by his fans.

Now, I have been called a lot of things, but “Bluegrass fan” is not one of them. Yet when Clyde said back in the middle of February—with a lot of drawl and a bushel basket full of excitement—“I got us tickets to a Bluegrass concert! Wanna go?” I couldn’t help but say, “Yes, in fact, I do.”

So Janet and Clyde and Clyde Lynn and myself drove about three hours into Maryland to see Doyle Lawson and his band, Quicksilver.

“Doyle Lawson!” the three of them said to me at the same time on the way down.

(Click photos to enlarge.)

“O-kaaaaaay.”

“Doyle Lawson is the biggest star in Bluegrass,” they said again, this time with a hint of incredulity. “He’s the man. He mentors all the new bands.”

To prove these wild claims, they produced a CD listing all Doyle’s accomplishments and awards. The back of the CD had a quote from Paul Simon about this guy, for crying out loud, and listed his awards and recent honors at the Grand Ole Opry. Now I was interested.

“You may not like the Gospel stuff,” Clyde said.

“I will not like the Gospel stuff,” I said.

“Oh, give it a try.”

I did. And by golly, I liked it. Well, no. Not the Gospel stuff, particularly. And I never knew Bluegrass bands played such downright, hard-knock-cry-yourself-to-sleep blues; no one had ever told me. Some of these songs—wailing over lost loves—were so goddamn blue I thought the band should have supplied ropes so audience members could throw them over the rafters and hang themselves. That’s what I wanted to do after one particularly life-sucking number. But when Doyle and the gang put the pedal to the metal and “rocked” the house, I sat mesmerized at the speed and skill of these musicians.

               “You’re going to be tapping your fingers to Bluegrass for a week,” Janet said. Well, it was only five days for me—but still. Okay. You made your point. I love this guy, love his talent, love his band, love most of the music, but especially the passion behind the music. Passion in any field of endeavor never fails to move me.

I may even go back next year. But when the Blues start, I’ll dial up Led Zeppelin onto my i-Pod and listen to Whole Lotta Love. Keep the weeping and gnashing of teeth inside your fiddles, gentlemen. I’ve got enough of that on my own.

© 2013 by Martin Zender