It amazes me how often I hear this when I mention to a new acquaintance that I play the banjo! It used to catch me off guard, leaving me struggling for something to say in that awkward moment (not exactly a good way to start off a friendship). To be totally fair, I get “oh I love the banjo!” just as often. The two extremes invariably refer to the same thing of course; Bluegrass is what they either hate or love!
I have recently discovered the perfect comeback to the “hate” remark: “Well, that’s because you haven’t heard me play it!” On the surface, this sounds pretty arrogant, but hey, I say fight fire with fire! Of course, by this point in the conversation, the now-embarrassed hater is feeling sheepish for having apparently insulted his/her new friend with such a knee-jerk statement. I see this as a possible opening; now that the ball is firmly in my court, I can see if they’re really paying attention, so my next statement is “you’re thinking of a different kind of banjo; you may like my kind of music.” Of course, the opposite is true for the “love” remark; I find myself apologizing—to the died-in-the-wool Bluegrass fans—that I don’t play Bluegrass.
Dueling Banjos—and thus the Bluegrass banjo—is seemingly the only banjo most folks have ever heard, or choose to “hear” without actually listening (I know that song is a bit of a thorn in the side of Bluegrass players also; like When the Saints Go Marching In for the Trad Jazz set, or Freebird for just about everybody else). I know this after having to play that piece of “music” thousands of times—the best I can with one pick and four strings, and by myself—to placate an unknowing audience, so I’m pretty sure I know what they mean when they say they hate (or love) the banjo.
This is not a judgment call against (or for!) any particular kind of music or banjo; frankly, I’m excited to see any kind of banjo getting the public’s fickle attention. I think it’s cool even when Taylor Whats-her-face “plays” a banjitar in her teeny-bopper show! I suppose I should be thankful that the general public even knows what a “banjo” is in the first place! On the other hand, having to explain why I can’t play Dueling Banjos or Cripple Creek like those “real” banjo pickers gets kind of tiring; a clean slate of total ignorance would be preferred.
I’m willing to bet there’s a good chance they may like the banjo played in a different way in a different kind of music; who knows? Invariably—upon hearing me play (if we get that far)—they’ll say “I never knew that kind of music could be played on the banjo!” This of course is the easy way out of the situation, as that can also be taken as “I still don’t like it, but hey, it is different!” To truly win someone over to my way of thinking usually requires a bit of education, and frankly that’s beyond the average busy/non-musically-inclined person’s attention span.
I can’t think of anything I would rather do with the rest of my life than play, teach, and promote the four-string banjo! As much as I would like to see it become popular again—at least as much as it was in my youth—there is a certain charm to being such a rarity. Unfortunately, this rareness doesn’t translate into “lucrative” because people either “hate” it or “love” it—for a kind of music I don’t play. The irony amuses me, but it just gets kind of lonely sometimes.
The banjo in its entirety would have to become so popular that folks would start to notice; “man, I’ve seen a lot of banjos in my time; how come yours only has four strings?” It makes my day on that rare occasion when someone actually knows what to call it—of course, then I usually have to explain “well, this isn’t a tenor banjo; it’s actually a plectrum banjo!” About that time the eyes glass over and I know I’ve lost them. Just when I think I should just give up and learn the five-string though, I remind myself how “special” I apparently am.