Rose and the Bros: Rockin’ in the free world. (Jim Motavalli photo)

It was a cold weekend but you could ignore that because the music was so warming. The Back Porch Festival 2024 took place March 15-17 at a variety of venues around downtown Northampton, Massachusetts. Weekend tickets to all but a few of the shows cost just $29. Compare that to the $11,040 price for entrance to just one Billy Joel show from the scalpers. It’s great when the bargain music is so darned good, much of it curated from the ranks of the excellent and local Signature Sounds label.

The first show was by The Mammals, basically the husband-and-wife team of Michael Merenda and Ruthie Ungar, with band. This is the group that puts on their own music event, the Hoot, at the Ashokan Center in New York. They are a group that tours relentlessly, with both members writing prolifically and excelling on their instruments (guitar and banjo for him, fiddle for her).

Klezmer music wild in the streets of Northampton. (Jim Motavalli photo)

Highlights included Merenda’s “If You Could Hear Me Now” (from the Nonet album), a gentle song sung by Ruthie with a Dylan “Boots of Spanish Leather” vibe; their Woody Guthrie song, “My New York City”; and “The Hangman’s Reel,” a fiery fiddle duet with Rose Newton. They also did Ruthie’s dad’s “Ashokan Farewell” the Ken Burns Civil War theme, the song that “put me through college,” she said.

Newton is the leader of Rose and the Bros, based in Ithaca, New York. They’re a good-time zydeco band, made into something more than that with Newton’s singing, songwriting and fiddle, plus a crack, well-rehearsed band. They do covers (Michael Hurley’s “Blue Driver” among them) and originals from Newton and Paul Martin, the group’s farmer/guitarist. Martin also got to shine on the group’s singular jam tune, “Blue Thrush,” which reminded me of some of the workouts you’d hear during the 60s in San Francisco. The band got them dancing. Here’s that one on video:

From there it was over to Brattleboro, Vermont-based Low Lilly, two guitars and a fiddle, two women and one man (Liz Simmons, Flynn Cohen and new member on fiddle, Natalie Padilla). Cohen does the guitar solos. They all sang. I liked it. “All This Time” was a standout tune, and their new album, Angels in the Wreckage, was produced by Dirk Powell.

The Low Lily with new member Natalie Padilla (left) on fiddle. (Jim Motavalli photo)

Martha Scanlon is a very gifted singer/songwriter, dating back to her days with the Reeltime Travelers. She placed two songs into the Cold Mountain soundtrack but since then has kept a relatively low profile. In Northampton she was joined by longtime musical partner Jon Neufeld, an accomplished guitarist. They’re out of folk/country but their latest project is a covers album featuring songs by, get this, Radiohead, English Beat, Beyonce and Tom Petty. I would have loved to hear her “Hallelulah” (not the Leonard Cohen song).

Martha Scanlon (left) with Jon Neufeld and special guest Kris Delmhorst. (Jim Motavalli photo)

The peril of festivals like this is missing half of one show because you want to see the beginning of another. That happened when I rushed out to hear Rani Arbo and Daisy Mayhem, a group that doesn’t play around often enough these days. It was good to hear “Big Old Life” again, and their take on “Hear Jerusalem Moan.”

I’ve only recently discovered the music of Lisa Bastoni, who’s originally from Norwalk, Connecticut (Calf Pasture Beach gets a nod) but now lives (and works as an art teacher) in Massachusetts. She’s a great, great songwriter who captures the small moments of daily life with the veracity of a John Updike or Richard Ford. “Cheap Wine” is a standout on her latest album. Her neighbors cut down some lovely trees, installed an above-ground pool, and gave her “waterfront property.”

It was either that song or another one that contains the line, “Just because there’s a ladder doesn’t mean you have to climb.”

Viv and Riley harmonizing. (Jim Motavalli photo)

Viv (Leva) and Riley (Calcagno), a married couple from North Carolina (Viv is folk royalty down there) did one of the strongest sets of the weekend. She’s got a crystalline voice and writes wonderful songs, and he is a hugely accomplished multi-instrumentalist. He could also be a standup comic. This is from his “Is It All Over?:

Do you think they’ll ship us off
To the mines on Mars
And make us work there?
If they do, will the towns have bars
And amusement stars
And a Warby Parker?

And finally there was Peter Case, a blues-influenced raconteur of the old, beat school. He told wonderful stories and occasionally played a wry song or two. The Case show was held in Signature Sounds’ Parlor Room, the best place I know to hear music in Northampton. It’s right near the defunct Iron Horse, which is reopening under the Parlor Room Collective’s direction in May. That’s heartening. But the capital campaign continues.

Before leaving Northampton on Sunday morning we visited Signature Sounds “Back Porch Radio Live” at Progression Brewing. That gave us a chance to go away happy with the Deep River Ramblers (above) and the great and wonderfully manic, full-of-life Steve Poltz. “Quarantine Blues” is folk rap at its finest.

Of course, just about everything at Mark Morganelli’s Jazz Forum in Tarrytown swings. He’s been promoting jazz both in Westchester and New York City for decades. I plan to make a habit of stopping by to see the jazz singers he promotes. Roseanna Vitro has been part of his shows since the early 1980s, soon after she relocated to New York from her native Hot Springs, Arkansas. She’d originally wanted to be a blues singer, but lacked a distinctive scream. her idols back then were Lightning Hopkins, Johnny Winter, Bonnie Raitt and Tracy Nelson. I love that she recorded Boz Scaggs’ “I’ll be Long Gone,” which Nelson recorded.

Roseanna Vitro, vocals, performed with Tim Horner, drums, Allen Farnum, piano, and Dean Johnson, bass. (Jim Motavalli photo)

But it was jazz that clicked. Maybe it had something to do with Vitro rooming with the great pianist Fred Hersch when she came to New York. It’s plain she has big ears, and finds good songs wherever they live. Here she is on video, performing the late Kenny Rankin’s “In the Name of Love.” Rankin moved back and forth between pop and jazz his whole life, but took to singing standards, as Vitro does, late in life.

It was a nice gig, celebrating Valentine’s Day, in part because of strong support. Pianist Allen Farnum was on fire, and Dean Johnson (bass) and Tim Horner (drums) more than kept up with him. The standards included “But Beautiful” and, a personal favorite, “Crazy, He Calls Me.” A card on our table offered special cocktails for Valentine’s Day, and also the lyrics to “Crazy, He Calls Me.” The Sigman/Russell song goes back to 1949, and was memorably recorded that year by Billie Holiday. Here’s a bit of the lyrics:

“I say I’ll move the mountains/And I’ll move the mountains/f he wants them out of the way/Crazy he calls me/Sure, I’m crazy/Crazy in love, I say.”

Michelle Lordi in flight at Maureen’s in Nyack. (Jim Motavalli photo)

Maureen’s Jazz Cellar in Nyack, New York is indeed down a flight of steps, opening up to a cozy space with pretty good sight lines and—despite “jazz” in the title—many pictures of Jerry Garcia. It seems the place is pleasantly schizophrenic, supporting both jazz and Americana/bluegrass. Maureen Budway, the club’s namesake, was a jazz singer who passed in 2015; the club is under the direction of her brother and musical collaborator, pianist David Budway.

We were at Maureen’s, for the first time, to see jazz singer Michelle Lordi, who just released the lovely and challenging album Two Moons. David Budway was to have played the piano, but he was reported out with a cold. Ian Macauley, who’s performed with Clark Terry, John Legend and Joe Lovano, was on guitar. Tim Horner was on drums, and Matt Parrish, Lordi’s partner, on bass. The stage was set.

Lordi with guitarist Ian Macauley. (Jim Motavalli photo)

Based in Philadelphia, Lordi is a singer in constant development. Early recordings are quite nice but conventional—singing standards with in-the-tradition bands she sounds lovely but not who’s-that arresting. On the alt-country jazz of Break Up with the Sound (2019) and now on Two Moons, she’s evolved into something that’s entirely her own. Both albums are deeply experimental in their instrumentation without ever losing the essential groove.

And Lordi makes the albums enthralling with her cool, expressive vocals and increasingly strong songwriting. She has lovely microphone technique, and uses held notes judiciously.

Bassist Matt Parrish helps shape Lordi’s sound. (Jim Motavalli photo)

In Nyack, performed a few songs from Two Moons (“Blue Moon,” “Close Your Eyes,” “Never Break”), “Red House Blues” and “Poor Bird” from Break Up, and other material—including a bit of Jobim and Legrand, plus one of the saddest songs ever, Hank Williams’ “I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry,” and “a great song by a jerk,” Ryan Adams’ “When the Stars Go Blue.” The band by itself played “Beautiful Love,” which was evidently the love theme from The Mummy (as played by the Victor Young Orchestra in 1931).

Only Parrish, who teaches at Princeton and tours with the venerable Houston Person, was on both Two Moons and the gig in Nyack. He’s key to Lordi’s evolving conception, very upfront, propulsive and insistent—playing a bass made in 1850. Parrish played on and produced the big-band album Dream a Little Dream as well as Break Up with the Sound, and co-produced Two Moons. Horner, with a huge jazz resume, is a great man with the brushes and very sensitive and nuanced in accompanying Lordi (who, by the way, also teaches at Princeton–contemporary voice/jazz).

Drummer Tim Horner. (Jim Motavalli photo)

Macauley is a bebopper with an edge, also a fine colorist—essential in Lordi’s music. She does great work with guitarists. Macauley’s volume was a bit low, but from what we could hear he did fine.

Other musicians need to hear Lordi’s compositions, which get better the more you hear them. “Red House Blues,” one of several songs she does about her dreams, was incredibly atmospheric—in the club and on record. And as for “Poor Bird,” judge for yourself—here it is on video from Nyack:

After the house turned over at Maureen’s, a bluegrass trio came on featuring Arthur Toufayan and Gregg Terlizzi of Particle Theory—guitar, fiddle and mandolin. Very nice, with a definite nod to the music Jerry Garcia made with mandolin player David Grisman, and with the Dead, too. “Shady Grove,” “Jack a Roe,” “Deep Ellum Blues,” “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot” and “Roll On, Buddy” (a/k/a “Nine Pound Hammer”), all delivered very competently.

“Jack a Roe” is an example of a trad song that Garcia made his own—it’s just one of many old songs about women dressing as men to be close to the soldiers or sailors they love. The fact that the Dead had roots in bluegrass and jug band music is why they tower over the jam bands that came after them. Check out Donna the Buffalo for another example of sweet jamming that’s built on the tradition.

Upcoming from Lordi, in addition to club dates you should catch, is a live album with Xavier Davis on piano and Randy Napoleon, and an album with saxophonist Houston Person.

My wife and I rang in the new year at the Jazz Forum in Tarrytown, New York with the incomparable jazz singer Catherine Russell. It became 2024 during the performance, but we were transported back to a simpler era when the Great American Songbook produced hits, and blues was the entertainment at South Side Chicago clubs.

Catherine Russell brings in New Year’s Eve with guitarist Matt Munisteri and bassist Tal Ronen. (Jim Motavalli photo)

We were issued party hats and beads, and there was a countdown, but the main attraction was Russell and her great band. I was intrigued by guitarist Matt Munisteri, who also backs singer Kat Edmondson. He was fine on the swing stuff, but really shone on blues—of which there was an abundance. Ben Paterson (piano) and Tal Ronen (bass) acquitted themselves well. The amiable Ronen has played with another fine singer, Tamar Korn.

Russell has the pleasant habit of introducing songs with the author’s name(s). That’s how I know that New Orleans R&B artist Earl King wrote “Let the Good Times Roll,” and that vocalist Al Hibbler recorded “After the Lights Go Down Low.” Hibbler got to number 15 with Phil Belmonte, Allen White and Leroy C. Lovett’s composition circa 1956. “Shiny Stockings” is from the pen of horn man Frank Foster. None of that matters to the enjoyment of a contemporary Catherine Russell concert—she just sings great songs, but from a far more elegantly curated repertoire than the average jazz singer. And she’s a practically flawless singer, never missing a note, never failing to put the tune over.

Guitarist Matt Munisteri is equally at home in swing and blues. He also accompanies Kat Edmonson. (Jim Motavalli photo)

The brilliance of seeing Russell is that even if the sound was off you could enjoy her performance. She’s a very physical performer, celebrating the song as much with her mobile face as with her voice. And you learn about a lot of tunes! She went through Steve Allen’s “Cool Yule,” Irving Berlin’s 1938 “Change Partners,” Hoagie Carmichael’s 1937 “The Nearness of You” and a lot more. I hadn’t heard King Oliver’s 1926 “Doctor Jazz” in a while.

And then, of course, there was her dad’s “At the Swing Cat’s Ball.” Luis Russell was a noted bandleader, as well as Louis Armstrong’s musical director, and a bunch of his performances were recently pulled out of a closet by his daughter and released on a Dot Time album.

Catherine Russell with bassist Tal Ronen. (Jim Motavalli photo)

It’s a colorful family. Russell’s mother, Carline Ray, an excellent singer as well as a bassist and guitarist (International Sweethearts of Rhythm, Mary Lou Williams and Sy Oliver), told her, “Child, you’ve got enough mouth for another row of teeth.” Both parents imbued their daughter with a great love for a century of great American music. Russell is both an historian and a peerless interpreter.

I’ll be back at the Jazz Forum for the great vocalist Roseanna Vitro, who’s entertaining on Valentine’s Day, February 14.

Every Man for Himself and God Against All by Werner Herzog (Penguin Press)

By Jim Motavalli

If even half of Werner Herzog’s memoir is true, we’re lucky he made it to his current 81. He describes miraculous survivals all over the world—shooting untamed rapids, a bow-and-arrow attack from an uncontacted tribe, smuggling adventures on the U.S.-Mexican border, close encounters with the wildman actor Klaus Kinski—that are great fun to read, even if their total veracity is in doubt.

Of course, enough of this is well-documented—including the author’s hardscrabble upbringing in postwar Germany, the eating of his own shoes in a bet with filmmaker Les Blank, and the arduous path to completing Fitzcarraldo and Aguirre: The Wrath of God—that the wilder stories seem at least characteristic. Kinski and Herzog were well-matched.

Herzog’s droll, deadpan German-accented voice is familiar from his documentaries. Click on his thoughts vis-à-vis the stupidity of chickens. This book is perhaps best enjoyed in the audio version. The book was written in German and ably translated by Michael Hoffman, though Herzog (who lives in Los Angeles) reads it in English.

Herzog’s films are wildly disparate, but they all grow out of Herzog’s fascination with mankind in extremis, and people who stubbornly refuse to conform to society’s expectations.

Much of the director’s time must be spent trying to get his many films financed, but that material doesn’t make it into the book. The director is (or at least sees himself as) a man of action, and it’s no wonder he became a close friend of the similarly peripatetic Bruce Chatwin (whose novel The Viceroy of Ouidah he made as the film Cobra Verde).

 As he tells it, Herzog had zero training as a filmmaker. He just started doing it, directing his first short, Herakles, in 1961. Since then, he’s produced documentaries, features and filmed operas in a steady stream, sometimes two a year. He’s still at it, with the volcanic The Fire Within (2022).

I’ve never seen a bad Herzog film, but I realize from the filmography thoughtfully provided at the end of the book that most of his work is unseen by me. I hope to remedy that, with the help of streaming services.

Herzog the author is very much like Herzog the director—curious, droll, sardonic, funny. He’s a bit of a German fatalist, though hardly a typical German. Like Fassbinder, he’s an internationalist, whose most famous films are set in France (Cave of Forgotten Dreams), Alaska (Grizzly Man), Australia (Where Green Ants Dream) and South America (Aguirre, Fitzcarraldo, Ten Thousand Years Older).  

Most autobiographies feature younger, idealized cover photographs of their author. Herzog chooses to portray himself as he really is now, grizzled like his grizzly man, uncombed, and appearing to be in the midst of confronting something distasteful.

Two of the Down Hill Strugglers, Eli Smith (left) and Jackson Lynch. (Jim Motavalli photo)

BROOKLYN, NY—Folkways Records was founded in 1948 by Moses Asch and Marian Distler, a pair of serial record company founders who’d previously led Asch, Disc and Cub. It was Folkways that endured, and it was Folkways that issued, in 1952, the Anthology of American Folk Music, produced by Harry Smith (whose 100th birthday it would be).

You have to consider the times. In 1952 the only way you could hear America’s recorded legacy, especially the groundbreaking blues, country and folk records recorded in the 1920s, was on scratchy 78s. Reissues were rare. Putting a treasury of old music onto three long-playing records had a profound impact on the generation of folkies, many of them urban, who clustered around New York in the early 1960s, Bob Dylan certainly included.

The 15th annual Brooklyn Folk Festival, held at St. Ann’s Church in Brooklyn Heights, celebrated 75 years of Folkways, still very much with us and signing up artists as Smithsonian Folkways. Asch’s estate sold the label to the Smithsonian in 1987, a deal negotiated by Ralph Rinzler.

Sometime in the late 70s, before the sale, I visited Folkways to see if they needed any radio promotional help. I remember talking to Asch in a cluttered office. He was genial, as long as I didn’t mind getting paid in records. That’s how I got my Uncle Dave Macon album, complete with dimples baked into the bad pressing. And I think I got some Folkways on the air, too.

So it was as an actual former employee of Folkways that I joined the celebration, which turned out to be great fun. In a panel discussion, festival organizer Eli Smith (a mainstay of the Down Hill Strugglers, too) was joined by author Elijah Wald and Peter Siegel, the latter an engineer and producer at Folkways responsible for albums by Hazel and Alice, Doc Watson, Joseph Spence and many more.

For Hazel (Dickens) and Alice (Gerrard)’s first album, Siegel said he was paid $75, $37.50 of which he got in advance to buy a ticket to Washington, D.C and enough Scotch tape to record the group on his reel to reel. When he came back, he got the other $37.50. Not only was Siegel at the festival, so was Alice Gerrard, now 89 and still in good voice.  

Brooklyn’ folk fest is run by the Red Hook-based Jalopy Theatre, which has grown to encompass a performance space, a record label and a music school. Many of the festival performers have records on the label, including the Down Hill Strugglers, who played first with some songs from the Anthology. Jackson Lynch continues to astonish on fiddle, as they made their way through tunes like “When First unto This Country” and “Cumberland Gap.” Walker Shepherd is a switch hitter who sometimes joins Lynch on fiddle, and Smith moves from guitar to banjo. They’re urban old-time musicians, just like the pioneering New Lost City Ramblers.  

I didn’t know that Woody Guthrie played the fiddle, but apparently he not only played it but wrote music for it. The Strugglers ventured into his “Cowboy Waltz.”

Peggy Seeger, a Folkways stalwart along with her brother Mike (a folklorist and member of the New Lost City Ramblers), was one of several still-vigorous veterans who played the festival. She’s 88. Also appearing was Rambling Jack Elliot (92), Ed Sanders of the Fugs (84) and poets Anne Waldman (78) and (by phone) Sonia Sanchez (89).

Seeger, accompanied by her son Calum McColl on guitar and vocals, appeared on video from her home in England. She is an adept interpreter of old songs, and proved it with “The Wagoner’s Lad” and “Dink’s Song.” But she also offered some originals, one of them a clever ditty about automated phone answering systems. And she didn’t forget her late husband’s “The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face,” written for her.

Ed Sanders, the link between the beats and the hippies. (Jim Motavalli photo)

The Fugs, featuring Sanders, hit the nostalgia button with “Slum Goddess of the Lower East Side,” “CIA Man” and “Kill for Peace,” the latter by the legendary Tuli Kupferberg. The Fugs were always sort of ramshackle, and they still are. A moment of order came with the song from the guitarist Steven Taylor, “God Bless Johnny Cash.” Taylor said he showed a draft to Sanders, who said the song was “prolix.” Maybe it’s been shortened since.  

Charlie Parr proved very accomplished on his National steel guitar. His songs, mostly about down and outs, were intermittently successful. “I Ain’t Dead Yet” was a highlight.

Dom Flemons, “Freight Train” and “Cannonball Blues” medley. (Jim Motavalli photo)

And then came Dom Flemons, who had heard just that morning that his new album Traveling Wildfire had been nominated for a Grammy. Flemons, a former member of the Carolina Chocolate Drops with Rhiannon Giddens, is a delightful solo performer, and starting to branch out a bit.

Wildfire is his own songs, some with a country feel such as the very romantic “Slow Dance.” Traditionalists could delight in his ornamented guitar medley of “Freight Train” and “Cannonball Blues.” And he didn’t forget the black cowboys, the subject of his last Grammy-nominated album. Did you know that Reverend Gary Davis had a cowboy song, “Saddle it Around”?

A great way to start Saturday morning was Ken Schatz leading the audience in sea chanties. The pews were full of his fellow acolytes, and he called them up one by one to sing lead, with the rest of us joining on the choruses. I was thrilled to hear “Cape Cod Girls,” previously encountered only on Patrick Sky’s second album, A Harvest of Gentle Clang.

The Harry Smith Frolic folks, getting through the Anthology of American Folk Music. (Jim Motavalli photo)

Kyle Tigges, with a full band of fiddle, bass and piano, offered easygoing songs. He’s one to watch. And I really loved a performance by members of the Harry Smith Frolic. This is an event, held in Massachusetts annually, that each year attempts to get through one volume of the Anthology, helped by anyone in the audience who can sing (or is willing to attempt to do so). Four of the frolickers showed up at the festival and banged out such Anthology numbers as “The Brilliancy Medley,” “I Wish I Were a Mole in the Ground,” “Indian War Whoop” and “The Mountaineer’s Courtship.” The latter is a novelty number from the Stoneman Family, and the kicker is that the rube getting hitched already has six kids.

And then there was David Johansen. The former New York Doll made two wholly unexpected albums as David Johansen and the Harry Smiths, and they are a revelation. He sounds utterly authentic, Charlie Poole’s cousin, and fully inhabits the old songs. On stage with two guitarists, he still looked like a rocker, skinny in striped pants, but as soon as he opened his mouth the Old Weird America came crawling out. Quite wonderful. “Old Dog Blue,” “Casey Jones,” “Single Girl, Married Girl,” “Delia.”

Johansen barely talked, but he did say, “This is a wonderful event. It’s so much fun to play these songs. It’s a constant source of rejuvenation for me.” Fans of Buster Poindexter or the Dolls can catch him in a different context, such as Personality Crisis, the recent Martin Scorsese documentary.

Wyndham Baird was a repeat visitor, and a somewhat low-key performer who offers beautifully sung and sturdily constructed cover songs, from Dylan (“License to Kill”), Ian Tyson (“The French Girl”) and Roscoe Holcomb (“Trouble in Mind”).

Nora Brown, contemplating the past. (Jim Motavalli photo)

The young banjoist Nora Brown was in a slightly downbeat mood, having recently contracted a cold and sprained her ankle. She opened with “Morphine.” It’s always great to hear both her interpretations and her descriptions of where the songs came from. “Copper Kettle,” an immediate postwar song by Albert Frank Beddoe and recorded by Bob Dylan on Self Portrait, was typically splendid. Nora was joined by fiddle player Stephanie Coleman, and the pair recently made an EP together. Brown was on several stages over the weekend; the musicians love to play with her.

Brown sometimes sits in with multi-instrumentalist Jake Blount; as he pointed out, they “like the same songs.” In Brooklyn Blount was subdued but also pissed-off and electrifying as he tells stories of slavery and African-American life, often through the lens of old songs. He’s a ferocious fiddle player—sometime using it to generate a drone, with electronic effects—and just as good on banjo and guitar.

Jake Blount, fiddle drones. (Jim Motavalli photo)

“I’ve Heard of a City Called Heaven” comes from the singing of Jean Ritchie, and Blount did it brilliantly. “Hard Times” via Skip James was also imaginatively reinvented.

Alice Gerrard (center) with Tatiana Hargreaves (left and Reed Stutz (right). Missed the bass player’s name! (Jim Motavalli photo)

Alice Gerrard lives in North Carolina now, and brought some musicians up from there, including Reed Stutz and Tatiana Hargreaves. Sad songs (“The One I Love is Gone,” via Bill Monroe) funny songs (“How Can I Keep from Fishing?”) and serious ones (“The Coal Miner’s Blues”) were all offered and treated with respect.

I unfortunately had to miss Sunday and Rambling Jack Elliot, among others, but what I did get was two intense days and nights of roots music.  

See more of what’s going on at Brooklynfolkfest.com and Jalopytheatre.org. The same folks put on the Washington Square Folk Festival, the Brooklyn International Folk Festival and Roots ‘n Ruckus Fest.

The Slovakian capital of Bratislava is only an hour by train from Vienna, Austria, which turned out to be convenient—because we were in Vienna. That’s homebase for my niece, a newly minted doctor, and her retired racing greyhound dog. My wife is 50 percent Slovak, and she’d never been there, so we decided to spend a few days traveling around the country, visiting her family’s old stomping grounds in Trenčín.

Bratislava was in high political season while we were there, with posters on every flat surface. The election was won, three weeks later, by Robert Fico, ostensibly a leftist but also a populist friend of Russia and an opponent of aid to Ukraine. His SMER-SSD party only got 23 percent of the vote, though, so in a parliamentary system it will have to form a coalition to actually govern.

 A land of castles, Slovakia has one foot in the past and the other very much in the present. There are more than 100,000 Ukrainian refugees in this small country of 5.4 million. Ukraine and Slovakia share a border to Slovakia’s east. Slovakians know something about foreign oppression—the ruling Hungarians suppressed Slovak language and culture in a program of “Magyarization” that followed the Austrian-Hungarian Compromise of 1867.  That period ended with the joining of Slovak and Czech into one nation circa 1918. (They separated again in 1993.)

For the day, we hired Martin Talac of Slovakation, which promotes “active” tours, which means hiking in the High Tatra and Sulov mountains, plus other destinations such as Slovak Paradise National Park. We did a fair amount of walking, though probably not as much as is customary for Martin, and at one point briefly entered the Czech Republic on a mountain path with breathtaking views. We found the Protestant cemetery in the town of Krajne where my wife’s relatives are buried (see above), had lunch at a restaurant with a great selection of America oldies, and we even found the address that was printed on the fading envelopes from the old country. In a town as small as Trenčín, there are no street names—just numbers.

Castle Čachtice up close. (Jim Motavalli photo)

I mentioned castles, and in western Slovakia the ruins of Castle Čachtice, which looms over a town of the same name, was a highlight of our tour. The early Gothic pile was built in approximately 1260 by Casimir of the House Hunt-Poznan. By 1273 it was withstanding the onslaught of King Premysl Otakar II. Under the Orsags family (1436-1567) the castle was expanded with improved defenses and sumptuous residences.

The view from the castle walls. (Jim Motavalli photo)

But it’s the 17th century we’re concerned with here. Countess Elizabeth Báthory (1560-1614) inherited the castle after the death of her husband, the war-loving Count Ferenc Nádasdy, in 1604. No less an authority than National Geographic says that the count schooled his wife in sadism and torture. “For Báthory’s pleasure, Nádasdy had a girl restrained, lathered in honey, and ravaged by insects,” the magazine said. “He gifted the countess gloves spiked by claws, with which to thrash her servants for their mistakes.”

The countess in a likeness that’s likely a copy of the original painting.

In popular lore, Báthory believed that bathing in the blood of virgins preserved her own youth, and she was accused of killing more than 600 young girls for this purpose. Apparently, it was OK to abuse servants—that was common at the time—but when the countess started kidnapping and murdering the daughters of the nobility her crimes could no longer be ignored.

Is this the way it was? An evocative tableau inside the castle, with mannequin victim. (Jim Motavalli photo)

An investigation was launched by the King of Hungary, Matthias II, in 1610. Báthory was charged in the deaths of 80 young women, but despite the gathering of considerable testimony (which makes grim reading), was never convicted. She was instead imprisoned in her own castle, though four of her servants were hideously tortured to death. “The Blood Countess” lived in a tiny room, with meals slid into her, for four years until her death in 1614. She was 54.

The iron maiden is likely not the original. (Jim Motavalli photo)

Today, many historians say that the countess was the victim of local politics, or of mass hysteria similar to the Salem witch trials. The crumbling castle isn’t saying.

Tourism is down in Slovakia, both because of COVID and disruptions related to the Russia-Ukraine war. But Castle Čachtice is doing its best. Báthory Wine is available in the gift shop, and there are some interesting tableaux among the battlements, including an iron maiden (the countess may have used something similar) and what appeared to be a department store mannequin tied down, bloodied and ready for more torture.

People flood the car-free cobbled streets of downtown Trenčín. (Jim Motavalli photo)

The cobbled streets of downtown Trenčín yield no less than three vegan restaurants that served lunch. It’s lovely, and another castle looks down. A delightful museum is devoted to pre-war Skoda cars. In Bratislava you can buy a card that’s good for all public transit and most museums—we went to four, including the castle (of course there’s a castle), clocks, natural history and transportation.

An open-topped car in the Skoda museum. (Jim Motavalli photo)

Even if you haven’t considered Slovakia—but you’re headed for Europe—by all means see if it can fit into your itinerary. The food is great, the lodging friendly and inexpensive, and the people—universally both very friendly and at least competent in English.

SHEFFIELD, MASS. Those of us in the old-time country/swing jazz music scene have dearly missed the Oldtone Festival, which took place for eight glorious years in North Hillsdale, New York, at that magical corner where Connecticut, Massachusetts and New York come together. You don’t want to get emails like this back in February: “With heavy hearts we are announcing the closing of the Oldtone gates. It’s been an amazing run and the community we have built is nothing short of breathtaking. Without all of your support and love for the music and the farm, all of this could not have been possible.”

While other festivals feature the music, they don’t focus on it. Old Tone brought out some incredible artists seldom seen at mainstream events: JP Harris, the Downhill Strugglers, Nora Brown, Moonshine Holler, Roochie Toochie and the Ragtime Shepherd Kings, Dumpster Debbie, Tuba Skinny, the Bad Penny Pleasuremakers, Anna and Elizabeth, and many more. They all took the stage at Cool Whisper Farm.

Well, Oldtone is alive, at least in spirit. Kip Beacco (an Oldtone mainstay) and Matt Downing of the Lucky 5 (a fine swing band) teamed up with Alex Harvey of Shinbone Alley and the inestimably valuable Jalopy Theatre in Red Hook, Brooklyn to form the Down County Jump Festival, held September 30 at the Race Brook Lodge in Sheffield, Mass. There was 10 hours of music, with lunch and dinner breaks. It was described as a “pre-party” for the highly anticipated Brooklyn Folk Festival, which is November 10-12 at St. Ann’s Church.

Moonshine Holler kicked off the festivities. (Jim Motavalli photo)

Many of the performers were at Oldtone at one time or another. The show opened with Moonshine Holler, an old-time trio featuring guitarist/singer Paula Bradley. With her late husband, Bill Dillof—an incredibly knowledgeable music historian, Bradley formed the group to celebrate some of the little-explored corners of old-time. That tradition continues. Bradley is now working with young musicians Pete Killeen (banjo) and Rafe Wolman (fiddle). The repertoire avoids cliches.

“What You Gonna Do with the Baby?” comes to us from the late 1920s singing of Grayson and Whitter, and Bradley said it didn’t work as a song for kids—because they were too worried about what happened to the tune’s namesake infant. It wasn’t harmed in the making of the song.

All three are fine musicians, and they recognize this music has to be performed with energy and passion—not like a dry academic exercise. The set proceeded through “Steeley Rag,” from the Red-Headed Fiddlers, a song from Moonshine Kate (daughter of the legendary Fiddlin’ John Carson), “You May Leave, but This will Bring you Back” by the Memphis Jug Band, “Stone Mountain Wobble” by the Scottsdale String Band from Georgia, and many more.

Shinbone Alley took us out to sea. (Jim Motavalli photo)

Shinbone Alley, Alex Harvey and Jordan Shapiro, dealt in old sea shanties. These venerable tunes have had moments in the sun, but not recently. Have you heard the long tale, “Doodle, Let Me Go”? Harvey talked about songs “traveling in the belly of the boats for decades.” Some dated to the 1600s. Evidently if you go to the bars of Cornwall, England, they’ll all be familiar with a number called “The Sweet Nightingale,” who sings in the valley below. Robert Bell’s 1846 Ancient Poems, Ballads and Songs of the Peasantry of England says the song “may be confidently assigned to the 17th century.” It was originally sung in the Cornish language.

“The Rosabella,” about taking a ride in a “deepwater ship with a deepwater crew” is relatively recent—from the 19th century. Shinbone Alley turned it into a sing-a-long. One song the group did, “The Saucy Sailor,” was once essayed by English folk-rock ensemble Steeleye Span, but most were heard for the first time—by me, at least. Sailors were well-traveled, of course, and Harvey pointed out that many were of mixed race, and were influenced by sources as diverse as Indian classical music and Polynesian sounds. Shapiro has a bluegrass group called Astrograss, and also played keyboards on the album World of Captain Beefheart—and toured with Beefheart guitarist Gary Lucas.

Fatboy Wilson and Old Viejo Bones work internationally. (Jim Motavalli photo)

Fatboy Wilson and Old Viejo Bones is Samoa Wilson (niece of Jim Kweskin, and no fatboy) and Ernesto Gomez (who wasn’t that old). Together, they were magical, and occasionally in Spanish.

Wilson has a strong voice, and Gomez is an excellent guitarist, singer and harmonica player. “Hand Me Down My Walking Cane” and “Single Girl, Married Girl” are songs that uncle Jim could and would do. But “The New St. James Infirmary Blues” was a recent update featuring COVID 19.

The Lucky 5 swinging, sometimes in French. (Jim Motavalli photo)

The Lucky 5 is a swing band that loves Django Reinhart and, perhaps, his milieu. There’s a French accent to what they do, thanks to trombonist/vocalist Carolyn Dufraine. Her “Cou Cou” is a favorite. But all their tunes are very entertaining, including fiddler Jonathan Talbot’s “Red Spain.” Beacco is a fine singer and guitarist, and he writes original songs for the band, too. “Russian Lullaby” sounds exotic, but Irving Berlin wrote it. Beacco said Lucky’s version is via Argentinian guitarist Oscar Alemán. Here’s their “Me, Myself and I”:

Slowey and the Boats were a major discovery. What a fun group! It’s led by Isaac Stanford, a wildly red-haired virtuoso steel guitarist who likes it Hawaiian. For those who aren’t familiar, Hawaiian music was hugely popular in the U.S. around 1916, after a show called Bird of Paradise introduced it on the mainland. In 1916, recordings of Hawaiian music outsold everything else. Here are the Boats takin’ it cowboy style:

Slowey and the Boats led us down a steel guitar-driven memory hole. Remember the Hawaiian music craze? (Jim Motavalli photo)

Slowey’s repertoire features a lot of half-remembered music, such as “Ebb Tide,” which was a hit for Frank Chacksfield in 1953, but then everyone from Frank Sinatra to the Righteous Brothers recorded it. The sound was Martin Denny meets Bob Wills. The group’s baritone vocalist, Steve Stanislaw, was late but arrived for some cowboy songs such as “Back in the Saddle Again.” Such tunes are the focus of the group’s new album, and as Justin Poindexter and his group has shown, they adapt well to swing.

The Haughties rock it steady. (Jim Motavalli photo)

The Berkshires-based seven-piece Haughties is a contemporary reggae band with a fresh sound and two women up front.

Rose and the Bros brought the Cajun folk-rock sound. (Jim Motavalli photo)

Rose and the Bros from the Ithaca, New York area are one of Rosie Newton’s incarnations. She also has an old-time-type duo with Richie Stearns called Richie and Rosie. As Rose and the Bros, she rocks out with a Cajun flavor to her accordion and fiddle. They opened with Michael Hurley’s “Blue Driver,” as they frequently do.

They did a Julie Miller song, “Don’t Listen to the Wind,” and then started tearing through “Summer Breeze” by the band’s Paul Martin (who runs Sweet Land Farm in Trumansburg, N.Y., home of the Grassroots Festival, when he’s not with Rose and the Bros). But that’s when I had to leave. Oh well. And there was voodoo and Haitian chants from Tjovi Ginen and post-war New Orleans R&B from the Jackson Lynch band still coming up.

P.S. There was an intermission band, a young couple on guitar (him) and fiddle (her). I didn’t get their names, but he was really into Charlie Poole, and sounded like him, too. She sang a fine version of Townes Van Zandt’s “Delta Momma Blues.” Together, they sang “Don’t You Rock ‘Em, Daddy-O” which Lonnie Donegan recorded in ’56. The future of the music is safe with them.

By Jim Motavalli

These were the transcendent moments at FreshGrass 2023, held annually at the MASS MoCA arts center in northern Massachusetts:

Sierra Ferrell, Friday night. It would have been hard to top the set Ferrell delivered at the Red Wing festival in Virginia earlier this summer, but she achieved that feat in Massachusetts. The richness of her voice combined with her stage presence, compelling, crowd-pleasing material from her album Long Time Coming, and some great new stuff from the record coming out next year.

Sierra Ferrell and band were incandescent. (Mary Ann Masarech photo)

Ferrell was introduced as “the most exciting artist in the roots music world,” and for once it wasn’t biz hyperbole. She is that. Proof that she will only grow as an artist came in a new song that I think is called “I Can Drive You Crazy (Yes I Can).” It’s a not only a great tune, but also strong evidence that she knows country music history back to Bristol, Tennessee in 1927.

One new song, “The Garden,” finished in the studio as the band was recording the new album, came across like a mashup of the Louvin Brothers and Dolly Parton. A special mention should be made of Ferrell’s band, just three guys (in maroon to her white) on fiddle (Oliver Bates Craven), mandolin (Josh Rilko) and bass (Geoff Saunders). Craven co-wrote “The Bells of Every Chapel” and doubles on guitar.

The sum of these parts makes for a very exciting stage show, but also a very controlled and professional one. It’s kind of at odds with her wild posts on Instagram, taking a kind of Cindy Sherman-esque approach to her physical being. Quite the complex character, this Sierra Ferrell. I bought her little-known and minimally packaged first album, Pretty Magic Spell, in the merch room, and it’s well worth seeking out, if not quite as stellar as Long Time Coming.

Bruce Molsky, Michael Daves and Tony Trischka, Saturday morning. These three, who play together occasionally, constitute a supergroup in the fairly small world of old-time country music. Molsky is probably the greatest living exponent of the style—both as a singer and as a guitarist and fiddler. At Freshgrass he confined himself to fiddle, but—trust me—he’s just as good on guitar. His skills weren’t needed there, because Daves is an incredible guitarist, as well as a singer in the high, wide and lonesome style of the music’s origins. (Actually, his voice has gotten a bit deeper over the years.)

From left, Tony Trischka, Michael Daves and Bruce Molsky. (Jim Motavalli photo)

Trischka is up there with Bela Fleck on banjo, though their styles are quite different. His “Fox Chase” instrumental was a highlight of the set. But the transcendent moment, which I wish I’d captured on video, was the finale, “Down in Rockingham,” taken at full tilt, a prime example of the unbridled energy and drive in old-time country. Here’s the band doing “Jawbone,” which I did capture on video:

Bombino, Saturday afternoon. Omara “Bombino” Moctar is from the nomadic Tuareg people in Niger, and plays guitar in the desert style of groups like Tinariwen (from Mali). He’s been called “The Sultan of Shred” by the New York Times, and the world’s best guitarist by a music blog. His most recent record, Sahel, came out this year. These are the bare bones, but they don’t prepare you for the reality of seeing Bombino in person.

Bombino, shredding desert style. (Jim Motavalli photo)

Forget about the “world music” tag and the fact that the lyrics are in the Tamashek language and address geo-political concerns halfway around the world. This is simply one of the best live groups on the planet, and you have to see them live. It’s so propulsive you want to scream out loud. There are parallels to Fela Ransome Kuti, the Nigerian sax player and singer who likewise addressed a repressive African state with exhilarating, long-form music of defiance. Bombino’s music is informed more by rock than jazz, but both artists evolved their own distinctly African styles.   

Bombino is a singularly exciting guitarist, but he also has an exceptional band. Fellow Tuareg Illias Mohammed is on second guitar and vocals, Mauritanian (by way of Belgium) Youba Dia on bass, and Bostonian Corey Wilhelm as the long-term drummer. The latter has an absolutely ferocious—and very musical—attack, which he sustains for longer than would be thought possible. Even on that cool, rainy day, he probably sweated off five pounds. Any metal band would be lucky to have him, even if they had to fire John Bonham in the process. He’s been with Bombino for 10 years said, Dia, the group’s spokesman, said. Dia also had some words for the New England weather.

Melissa Carper, serious about good country music. (Jim Motavalli photo)

Melissa Carper, Sunday morning. The world needs to discover this powerhouse bassist, singer and excellent songwriter. She writes songs (including with the stellar Brennen Leigh) that combine classic country and country-swing influences, honed by growing up in a family band and listening to the giants. Her set was a master class in how to create and perform music that just about everyone will want to hear—repeatedly. She has a deceptively small but very effective voice, and a fine band. Her songs are kind of sad, but this is country, after all. She closed with the amazing “My Little Christian Girlfriend.”

Melissa Carper’s group enlivens Laurel and Hardy. (Jim Motavalli photo)

Carper was also featured as part of the commissioned “Freshscores” program, with musicians writing original music for silent shorts. Her inspired choice was the Laurel and Hardy 1927 epic The Battle of the Century Pie Fight. Some 3,000 cream pies met their doom in its creation, she said. Carper’s music perfectly complemented the action and included passages explicitly commenting on it. Other scores were provided by Michael Daves and Kaia Kater.

Rhiannon Giddens in full cry. (Jim Motavalli photo)

Rhiannon Giddens, Sunday afternoon. On her new album, You’re the One, and in concert, Giddens is going in a more popular direction. She now employs a kick-ass backbeat drummer, which makes the whole band overall louder and less subtle. The crowd seemed to love it, though. And since Giddens is one of the world’s greatest musical treasures, there was still plenty of very fine moments. Dirk Powell was on board, and his fiddle-led medley of “God Gave Noah the Rainbow Sign/Breaking Up Christmas” was a highlight, as was Powell co-write “They Could Fly.”

Giddens the stellar player on fiddle and banjo was missed. It was hard to hear the latter on, for instance, the long and loud Brazil-meets-rock-and-old-time-country instrumental they did. But here’s a good Giddens joke, while tuning” What’s perfect pitch? That’s when you throw a banjo into the garbage and it hits the accordion going down.

**

Short takes:

Narrow North, an Americana trio from Albany, New York, had some nice moments on the smaller Freshroots stage. With mandolin, guitar and bass, they make a pleasant brew. All three sing. The Wildwoods from Lincoln, Nebraska were delightful on the same stage, performing a mixture of covers and originals like “West Virginia Rain.” Here they are doing some gypsy jazz, making use of fiddle player Chloe’s degree:

Aiofe O’Donovan had a full chamber orchestra and choir. (Jim Motavalli photo)

Aiofe O’Donovan was also featured in a commissioned piece, indoors at Hunter Center. Celebrating women’s empowerment, she employed a full chamber orchestra, horn section, the Westerlies brass quintet and a choir. O’Donovan, a highly skilled interpreter, was in fine voice. The only drawback was weak songwriting. The tunes were meandering and fairly vague. The singer is transcendent when shaping other people’s songs (as she did in Crooked Still), and there’d be no problem with her sticking to that–Linda Ronstadt and Maria Muldaur, for instance, left the composing to others.

CJ Field, a Nashville-based singer-songwriter, exhibited most of the moves of the new Nashville, meaning more rock than country. It was all pretty standard and forgettable, but his song “6th of October,” recently recorded and co-written by Ashley McBride, stood out as worth a second listen.

I’ve been having trouble with what passes for country in Nashville recently. In Munich, at a friend’s urging, I went to see a young and heavily tattooed performer named Morgan Wade.

Good money, wasted. Morgan Wade was just terrible. But in Germany, not Massachusetts! (Jim Motavalli photo)

Attired in a Black Sabbath t-shirt, she delivered one of the most deadening, monotonic, musically barren performances I’ve ever seen. It was loud, stupid and relentless, and showed nothing but contempt for the audience. I rarely walk out of a show, especially one I’ve paid 20 euros for, but I couldn’t stand to be in her presence for one more minute. Get your act together, Morgan Wade, whoever you are.

Sunny War, with her widely spaced interpreter. (Jim Motavalli photo)

Sunny War was pleasant, in a very Tracy Chapman kind of way. She has a dark, syrupy voice you could compare to Cassandra Wilson. The songs were universally slow and quiet, except for “No Reason” from latest album Anarchist Gospel, which really picked things up usefully.  Special mention should be made of second guitarist Anthony da Costa, who has done similar duty for Aoife O’Donovan and Sarah Jarosz. He not only played excellent impressionist guitar that really fit the songs, he also sang some interesting counterpart vocal parts.

And da Costa talked, acting as War’s spokesman. She’d whisper something to him and he’d turn to the audience. “Sunny says….” It was kind of cute.

TRUMANSBURG, NEW YORK—One of the great things about music festivals is the act of discovery. I love events that have multiple acts I’ve never heard of. It’s whole undiscovered countries of exciting sounds. The fact is, music is such a deep well you never get to its bottom.

Walter Mouton and the Scott Playboys. Walter formed the group in 1952. (Jim Motavalli photo)

Chronological works here. I walked in on the Boston-based Dead Sea Squirrels performing for some enthusiastic square dancers. It was raining, so the dance tent was a good place to set up. The dancers didn’t even need to sit down, because up next was Walter Mouton and the Scott Playboys. Cajun/zydeco music always goes down well at folk festivals, even when it rocks out. Mouton is a legendary accordion player who put together the first version of the Playboys in 1952 but, now 85, he was at the pedal steel—an instrument I haven’t seen in zydeco before. He also sang a little. The band has a fantastic young fiddle player, but I got distracted by a girl in a top hat dancing on stilts.

December Wind, big boys now. (Jim Motavalli photo)

December Wind with Keith Secola (who also led his own set) is an impressive Native American band. Their song “Imma Big Boy,” backed by slide guitar, was captivating. I want to know more about the local-to-Ithaca Fall Creek Brass Band, which had no less than nine horns (three trumpets, four trombones, two saxophones) in the front line. A sousaphone handled the bass duties. An original “We the People” captured the essence of New Orleans brass band music.

Richie and Rosie: Grassroots regulars. (Jim Motavalli photo)

Richie and Rosie (with Rose Newton also leading Rose and the Bros) are a Grassroots institution. Richie Stearns is a native of Ithaca and has been in some of its legendary bands, including the Horseflies and Donna the Buffalo. Richie and Rosie is the two of them, with Rosie on fiddle and Richie on banjo and guitar. Both are fine singers/players, and Richie is an excellent songwriter, as witness his “Nowhere in Time” and “I Am With You Always.” The latter is on their Tractor Beam release. I also loved a bluegrass-heads-east piece called “Last Train to Rajasthan.” That one’s on Nowhere in Time. “I’ve Endured” came via the great Ola Belle Reed.

Richie and Rosie did a fine version of Dirk Powell’s “Waterbound,” with unison singing. We listened to the music through an ancient Fender Princeton Reverb tube amp, so beat up they didn’t mind leaving their drinks on it.

Preston Frank and band. Note the presence of Dirk Powell. (Jim Motavalli photo)

More cajun came from Preston Frank and his Zydeco Family Band. My notes say, “The most infectious sound in the world.” The music makes you happy, but Frank himself is very deadpan. The 12-year-old rub board player is a grandson. Or maybe a great-grandson. There are no grandstanding soloists in this music; it’s all about the groove.

Jim Lauderdale fronts the Buffalo. (Jim Motavalli photo)

Singer-songwriter Jim Lauderdale made an album with the hosts, Donna the Buffalo. Wait ‘Til Spring came out in 2006, though it seems much more recent than that. The Buffalo is more or less Lauderdale’s backing band on the project, though their signature sound can’t help popping up. They clearly enjoyed each other at Grassroots. The Campbell Brothers took forever to set up, but appeared to have it together with their sacred steel before I had to leave. The Flying Clouds of South Carolina, with a rocking approach to gospel, were very convincing.

Day Two started with Jeb and Friends, featuring the laid-back Jeb Puryear of Donna fame. At least he was laid back on stage—organizing the festival (plus three others) with Tara Nevins and the local village must be quite taxing, as well as Donna’s energetic concert schedule.

The set was many of Jeb’s new songs, plus some by friends Uniit Carryou—a very appealing and warm Celtic-influenced singer—and aided by Hank Roberts on truly jaw-dropping cello. I’d like to know more about both of them. Roberts demonstrates why folk music needs more cello. Together it was Woodstock-adjacent upstate New York music. Willie Nelson’s “Bloody Mary Morning” sure sounded good—it had that Texas outlaw vibe, a second cousin to “Sunday Morning Coming Down.” I didn’t get the bass player’s name, but he switched to guitar and led a couple of fine songs. They closed out with a rousing version of Donna’s “Conscious Evolution.”

Drank the Gold offered old-time duets and some contemporary singer-songwriting. Oona Grady brought out her ornate Norwegian Hardanger fiddle, with a second set of strings under the bridge. They also played “The Fox,” which is sometimes described as the oldest folk song in English—dating to the 15th century. But it’s undergone considerable updating since then. My earliest recollection is of Pete Seeger singing it. Maybe “Sumer is Icumen in” is older, since it’s from the 13th century—but it’s in Middle English. “Froggie Went a Courtin’” is pretty ancient, too.

Vivian Leva and Riley Calcagno–their talents came together. (Jim Motavalli photo)

I can’t say enough about North Carolina-based Viv (Leva) and Riley (Calcagno). Vivian, folk royalty through her parents, James Leva and Carol Elizabeth Jones, carries on the family tradition—she’s also in a duo! Leva is a fine autobiographical songwriter and singer, and Calcagno is a virtuoso player, especially on fiddle but also on guitar and banjo. The group loves the tradition, as their seven-minute “Bury Me Not on the Lone Prairie” (not any version I’m familiar with) definitely demonstrated. They also revived a song by the great unaccompanied singer Texas Gladden called “Cold Mountains,” and put a lovely chorus to it. The group’s new album, Imaginary People, is out in September. Here are two videos.

Dirk Powell’s set was a highlight for me. His band includes his daughter, Amelia, on guitar and vocals. Powell is one of our best old-time interpreters, but he’s also steeped in cajun music, having married Christine Balfa and played in her father Dewey’s band, Balfa Toujours. He was a sideman with Preston Frank, too. The band opened with a trip down to New Orleans, Amelia on lead vocals—she’s good at it, too. The music was driving, with multi-instrumentalist Dirk on fiddle. The band was enhanced with Riley Calcagno’s fiddle, and there were some intense duets with Dirk—on cajun and bluegrass/old-time.

Dirk Powell with daughter Amelia, Riley Calcagno and Richie Stearns. (Jim Motavalli photo)

Coming back up north, the band made an Amythyst Kiah song, “The Worst,” their own. Kiah, who is from Chattanooga and currently lives in the early old-time epicenter of Johnson City, Tennessee, is a student of early African-American banjo music, among other things. Then, having heard that Richie and Rosie did his song, Powell offered his own just-fine version of “Waterbound,” which morphed into a spirited take on “Cumberland Gap.” Here’s the video:

Powell’s set was quite varied. He also did a rockabilly-type song with Chuck Berry overtones that was part of a workshop challenge to produce a song in an hour. The man can rip an electric guitar. Richie Stearns was also brought up to the stage on banjo. Powell used to live in the Ithaca area and knows the scene there. They concluded with a square dance.

Rising Appalachia has many fans in Ithaca. Their mix of old-time and a sort of New Age trance music was quite well received. And Watchhouse proved that a shredding mandolin can be the lead instrument in a driving and almost commercial folk approach. Good songs from Andrew Marlin definitely help. His wife, Emily Frantz, is a very strong singer.

Andrew Marlin of Watchhouse, making the mandolin sing. (Jim Motavalli photo)

Donna the Buffalo wasn’t coming on until nearly 11 p.m., and I had miles to go before I slept. I’ll catch them the next time. Memories of 20 other Donna shows will have to hold me for a while.