I started The Banjo Snob with the intent of writing serious-minded blogs that would get people thinking and commenting on the present/future of the four-string banjo; on this I have succeeded, but I fear at an increasing cost to my credibility and reputation as a nice guy. If you knew me better in person, you would know that I often think out loud, looking for answers where there don’t seem to be any (and you would absolutely know that I have the banjo’s best interest at heart—it is my life’s work).
The best way I have found to answer these questions is to throw my ideas up on the public wall and see what sticks (thinking out loud via the internet); sometimes this process makes me sound like an annoying loose cannon. For this I apologize; I humbly ask for patience as I figure out how to diplomatically say the things that someone needs to say. Yes, even the happy banjo world has things that are perhaps better left unsaid (and have been for too many years).
Let me tell you, this is not an easy process for an introvert like me! After publishing a blog, I feel like hiding in a cave, so you can imagine the dread I feel reading your comments; still, it is something I believe in my heart that I must do. I’ve always been one to be easily shouted down in an argument by the more verbose, which is why I’ve always kept my views to myself; I’ve spent many years, helplessly watching the banjo decline, and keeping my mouth shut. No longer!
I write with much more passion than I am able to muster in face-to-face conversation; that’s why I choose to communicate this way. I appreciate that I have generated some very passionate responses—some in favor of my views (always the minority I know, because I’m simply preaching to that particular choir), most not. I think about dialing it back in each successive blog, but then I realize that if I were to write mildly, I would only get mild responses, if any.
I laughingly call myself a “banjo snob,” but the more I air the views that have been fomenting in my head all these years, the more I realize I really am one. If “snob” means learning to appreciate the “finer points” of music and being proud of my growing musical knowledge and skills (I assure you, my nose is in the air as I write)—and wanting more respect and a brighter future for an instrument that has been long neglected—then I’m proud of the title.
I have to admit, I do not have a vast amount of experience playing the solo banjo in public, and do not consider myself to be much of an entertainer—I have nothing but respect for those who do have the experience and/or have been commercially-successful entertainers. I believe however that this is more than made up for by the fact that I’ve been immersed in the banjo world since before I was born. Add to this my 25+ years of experience singing, playing clarinet, saxophone, and banjo, and coaching/leading Trad Jazz bands in a variety of college and Military ensembles around the world—with several years of playing in some very fine professional Trad Jazz groups mixed in. I also have a degree (and experience) in music education, but I am loath to stress that here lest I be labeled as an “ivory tower” elitist; in actuality, I write because I know that—in spite of my education and lifelong experience—I’m not nearly as good or smart as I’d like to be!
As you can imagine, most of my views regarding the banjo are colored by my unique real world experiences/training; I’m simply trying to relate what I know as fact from those worlds to the banjo. The way I look at it, those other instruments are not becoming museum artifacts any time soon; they must be doing something right! For way too long now, the four-string banjo has been thought of as somehow “different,” and not worthy of serious study (or the trappings of mainstream instruments, i.e., competitions, College programs, etc.); is it any wonder the mainstream musical world doesn’t take it seriously? Even its players perpetuate the myth! It is a musical instrument; standard music theory really does work on it, for those willing to learn it.
First and foremost, those other instruments (and their players) are taken seriously by academia and the general public—unlike the banjo and its players. My personal mission is to help change the public’s perception (and encourage others to do the same), thus helping it gain more mainstream acceptance. The greatest compliment I can imagine receiving is a quiet, thoughtful “I never knew that kind of music could be played on a banjo.” Actually, I hear that comment just about every time I play! Is it my playing (I wish!), or were they simply expecting an annoying scene from Deliverance (the unfortunate “popular image”), and got music instead? Anytime the banjo is played in public—in any form—it is further burned into the psyche of those present. That could be a good thing or a bad thing! I just want to make sure it’s good when they hear me.
I have always taken the banjo way too seriously, and I have always had a keen interest in historical accuracy; therefore, I am fascinated with the history of the banjo/banjo players (including Eddie Peabody; though not a big “fan” of his music, I have a great deal of respect for what he did for banjo promotion through his prodigious entertainment skills). I have always been much more attracted to technical/intellectual brilliance (thus, Harry Reser is my biggest banjo hero), and much less to spectacle; I don’t much care for Hollywood, celebrities, parades, circuses, dance clubs, sales pitches, sports, or “Vegas style” entertainment. Wow, I guess I’m a pretty boring guy!
The truth is, I would much rather sit quietly and listen to great musicians playing great music, without concern for whether they smile or not—which frankly begs the question “why then do I play the banjo?” I play the banjo because I grew up with it, and for better or worse it’s a permanent part of my being; I still enjoy the “pizza parlor sing-along” scene, though I’d much rather participate than listen. More importantly though, I enjoy the challenge and accomplishment of playing difficult, complex, beautiful music on an instrument not noted for it (often earning me lukewarm applause at banjo conventions because I didn’t smile or throw my banjo in the air). Without the ability to fake a smile, or the natural-entertainer charisma to dazzle an audience, the only hope I have of being respected and remembered—at least by a few—is to maximize my musical potential.
It has been pointed out that I seem to be speaking out against entertainment; that is not the case! All I’m suggesting is, is that we strive to maximize the musical potential of our great instrument as well; there has to be a balance. For instance, the classical violin and the backwoods fiddle keep each other honest—and each have their rabid “my way is better” fans. I am firmly on the classical side, though I appreciate a well-played fiddle as well. The banjo has been successfully used as a real musical instrument in the past. There are tangible ways to become a better musician as well as an entertainer; some of that admittedly involves mastering things that would put an uninformed audience to sleep (and would be best left out of an entertainment-oriented show–unless you can smile while doing it). If it makes you a better banjo musician, don’t you think it will make you a better banjo entertainer as well?
Yes, I enjoy watching the many fine entertainers who grace our banjo convention stages; I especially enjoy watching my hobbyist friends (many of whom I’ve known since I was “yay high”) who are brave enough to get on stage and give it their best shot; and of course I enjoy the social aspect, though that is not as important to me as it is to many. I would be lying if I didn’t admit that I sometimes leave the concert room for “fresh air,” though. I do wish there were more great musicians playing great music on the banjo. To be fair, I know that many of the best players can’t afford to come to banjo shows (or are otherwise just not interested); they work on the weekends. Someone with the funds should consider sponsoring them as a way of reviving the instrument. . .I would if I could!
Like it or not, that is the gist of my argument and my reason for writing; don’t hate me because I take the banjo seriously (and love it enough to expect more out of it—and for it)! I don’t mean to alienate anyone; I apologize if you feel I have, but frankly, the future survival of the banjo is more important to me than hurt feelings.
I sincerely hope you continue to read my blogs, and I especially hope you continue to comment on them. And to tell you the truth, I get the most from those who disagree with me; that shows that I have touched a nerve, and that I have found something worth talking about. It also shows that I had better either modify my snobbish ideas (entirely possible), or become more resolute in them. Just in case I haven’t said it before, thank you for listening!
Ron – thank you for your thoughtful piece. I don’t, in the least, disagree with your ideal of presenting more “sophisticated” musical content to performance. What you might have missed, however, is the listening public’s idea of what they expect/want to hear/see. Playing the music is only half of the equation: the listener is just as important. Maybe a slow transition (from what’s been played forever to your “ideal) would be more successful.
While we (who play) know there are no limitations on what might be accomplished on the banjo, the public must be educated of this truth. Don’t forget that we didn’t start learning calculus in the 1st grade, so to expect the audience’s taste/expectations to change dramatically, overnight, isn’t realistic.
A “schtick” I’ve been using for a quite a few years now is to start my show with a couple of standards, then announce, “This seems to be a very special audience. I don’t usually do this, but because you are special, I’d like to play something that you wouldn’t expect to hear on the banjo. Is that alright with you?” Depending on how the piece goes over determines whether or not I continue in that vein. Please note that just because one “special” goes over well doesn’t mean the rest of one’s show continues in that fashion… at least this time. Most folks like salt, but a few dashes go a long way.
I’ve got more thoughts on other issues you present, but that’s enough for now. Keep stirring the pot, Ron. We may not always agree, but then… why do we have to?