I have been involved as a volunteer with the Cochise Cowboy Poetry and Music Gathering (www.cowboypoets.com) for the last 5 years; I had the honor of being a “participating artist” last year, and this year was asked to run an open mic session, where hopeful future artists get to strut their stuff and be judged (that’s how I had been “discovered”). I have been asked—and am seriously considering it—to be the new Artist’s Liaison, responsible for contacting and interacting with the artists for the next show. We just finished up this year’s show this weekend.
I have to admit, when I started, I did so more out of wanting to learn how to run a music convention than I did for any particular interest in the genre; you might say it’s the “only game in town,” being solid cowboy country here in rural S.E. Arizona. So, it was a five-year process, but I am now proud to say I am a genuine lover of the cowboy poetry and music genre; it just took a little education and understanding on my part!
That education began at the first year’s jam session when I discovered that cowboy fans also love the four-string banjo (there is a lot of shared repertoire, and the instrument was a mainstay in early Western Swing); I commented that “I’ve been a Country musician all my life and didn’t realize it!” I was quickly but gently corrected; “This is not Country music; it’s Western music!” Shows how little I knew (and how seriously they take it)! The original marriage of “Country Western” (“we have both kinds of music here; Country and Western!”) broke up in the 1960s as the genre of Country started becoming a pop-music force to be reckoned with, and intellectual interest in the old-fashioned, romanticized “cowboy way of life” began to wane.
Our theme for the 25th (silver) anniversary show was the Silver Screen Cowboy; I had never been a Western movie fan, so I learned a lot about those singing cowboys of the 1930s-50s. The following year, our theme was Western Swing/Barn Dance. The theme was one of the justifications for hiring me; there was no arguing that the four-string banjo would fit right in (and it did!). Folks ate up the up-beat sing-along music that I presented with no modification from our beloved pizza parlor mold. I was even able to successfully present some “high-brow” Classical music, as what a cowboy may have experienced on a trip to the big city, or what the ladies of the town may have imported to their local opera house (like the Birdcage Theatre in nearby Tombstone). This year’s theme was Around the Campfire, a tribute to afterhours camp storytelling.
Banjo justification is something that I worry excessively about; I know we have no trouble justifying it amongst ourselves, but what about our fading audiences? So few people today have ever heard of any of our Jazz Age or modern-day banjo heroes, and see the term “jazz banjo” to be an oxymoron. To me, that is the major difficulty of finding an audience among the non-banjo-enlightened general public—but that’s another blog.
I now get to the main theme of this blog; “the story teller.”
I quickly learned that I really like cowboy poetry; there was something about it that really struck a chord in my rural-raised soul. Whether the poem was humorous (cowboys can really get themselves into sticky, hilarious situations!) or dead-serious (cowboyin’ is a pretty rough business, where tragedy looms ‘round every corner, and cowboys in their quiet moments ponder the meaning of life/death out on the “Lone Prai-rie”), I found myself enthralled. Closely related to actual poetry is the fine art of storytelling; the skilled storyteller weaves a whopper of a tale that leaves you wondering where the truth ends and/or begins. This mostly-lost art seems to be alive and well in the cowboy world.
The open mic sessions vary quite a bit in quality level; many of the participants operate on a wing and a prayer, and—to be brutally honest—are years away (if ever!) from developing into artists worthy of professional public presentation. There are some though that leave you wondering, “why is this person not already on our program?” That was the situation in my session this past weekend; all three were wonderful, professional performers just waiting for their time in the Western Music circuit sun (one was a member of a successful group, going solo).
We had a small audience, so I invited everyone to sit in a circle and tell stories; the audience members asked great questions that really brought out the storytelling, while the musicians (myself included) bonded over shared techniques and approaches (all three were great acoustic guitarists with their own unique styles). We finished with a rousing jam on My Window Faces the South.
Above all else, I was blown away by the artful storytelling found in their true stories, poems, and songs. All three wrote their own original material, which just boggles my educated but apparently non-creative mind! I saw their chances of stage success to be wound up in just how well they weaved it all together. We discussed that aspect; I did my best to make suggestions (imagine, the banjo player offering advice!), which generated some fascinating thoughts between all present. By the end of the session (which went a half-hour overtime), I knew; if I wasn’t already a fan of the genre, I certainly was now!
I went to the after-show jam session (musicians and poets), and did my best to justify my existence through storytelling, but the best part was after I put away my banjo and started listening (and got another glass of wine!). There was a mixture of featured artists and wannabes, and their music really spoke to me. It was truly “music shaped by human experience” (these are real cowboys, not Nashville pop pretenders), and it really got me thinking (thus this blog); “what does our banjo music say?”
In my opinion, it doesn’t say much at all! Maybe that’s because I grew up with it and take it for granted; I’ve never really given much thought to what dramatic and interesting life experiences went into the creation of 5’2” and Four-Leaf Clover! And that of course begs the question, “does it have to say anything?” I suppose not, but I realize now that having a thought-provoking aspect to it certainly makes music more interesting and valuable(to me at least). I now point out an obvious truth: Interesting music will generate more, well. . .interest! I remain a loyal fan of our pizza parlor sing-along music; we just have to find better ways of presenting it to modern-day folks for whom the music means nothing (other than curious novelty).
I have made it my mission among the banjo community to present the underserved Classic and Novelty Ragtime (Harry Reser) banjo styles as being important “music of interest.” Without belaboring that hard sell, let me conclude by saying this: As banjoists, we should consider it our responsibility to develop a deep interest in and knowledge of all the historical four-string banjo styles, whether we can play it ourselves or not. Reser and Bechtel are just as important and interesting as Peabody (and vice versa); Classic as important as those three solo heroes; Trad Jazz, Western Swing, Polka, Irish, Mummery, etc.—all genres of combo music that have traditionally held open a four-string banjo chair—are all (or should be) extremely important to us!
Only in cultivating the four-string banjo story in its entirety (to include future progress) can we hope to discover for ourselves just what the music is saying, and then to present it as meaningful, storytelling music to the uninitiated public.
Please discuss: Am I just a delusional, overly-serious agitator, or am I on to something?