SC BROADCASTERS WOW THE FIDDLE AND PLOW

     picture borrowed from sc broadcasters website

Friday night in Woodlawn, Virginia, the South Carolina Broadcasters played at the Fiddle and Plow Show in Willard Gayheart's Front Porch Gallery. They lit the place up good. An audience of about 30 was very well pleased with the music we heard. They're a high energy 3-piece old-time band out of MtAiry. They went to MtAiry from Charleston, South Carolina, where they'd been for ten years. David told me at intermission that in Charleston nobody knew about old-time music. They were out of place. They played so much in the mountains and liked Galax an awful lot, so they moved to the mountains and have been glad of it ever since. I told him the mountains are glad to have them. David plays guitar and sings. The two women, Ivy, David's wife, plays fiddle beautifully, guitar beautifully, banjo beautifully and sings the same. Sarah, the banjo picker sings beautifully too. The two women sing together as one. They are primarily a singing band. They sing solo, duo, trio, and do instrumentals. By intermission I knew I wanted one of their cds to hear at home. At the beginning, they asked Scott Freeman to remove the mics; they wanted to play straight to the audience. Amplification would have been overkill. They sing out and play so they don't need amplification. David said when the situation required amplification they used only one mic.

I'd heard Scott mention the name of the band a few times in the recent past, was somewhat curious about them, especially after they were paid such close attention to by Scott. He has a good ear for mountain music. A really good ear. The ear of somebody who has played the music and listened to it all his life. It would be like Lucinda Williams talking about a particular song writer; I'd be curious to hear something. Scott put a notice in facebook today that the SC Broadcasters would be playing. I thought: Oh, good. I looked them up on utube and picked a fiddle tune. I heard Ivy's fiddle and was ready for the concert. Before it started, I spoke with Ivy telling her I'd looked them up on utube and was taken by her fiddle. Looking forward to the concert. I was expecting a lot and got my expectation satisfied in abundance. I'm hesitant with expectation, because it so often turns into disappointment to where it's predictable. These people can make some music. They work together smoothly, flow with each other. Every one is an excellent musician and the equal vocally. Every one of them sings like they know how to sing. They have the mountain sound, the drive. They sing Carter Family songs so very well, they make them their own. Their style of singing is raw old-time country like their fiddle, banjo and guitar. They are right to sing out like they do. I sat in the back and heard them clearly and articulately. Their notes are clear vocally as well as instrumentally. The fiddle has a tone that plays well with their singing voices. Their vocals are their own. It's a workout for them. Keeps their hearts pumping.

I've been playing the new cd since walking in the door, heard it while putting down some fresh food for Caterpillar and fixing a cup of Kenyan coffee. I especially like the first song, When I'm Gone, such a beautiful song. The two women singing it, Sarah singing lead. She's quite a singer. Ivy is the equal as a singer. It's amazing to hear them sing. It really is. Like the Carter Family, they sing a song in a way that feels like true singing seemingly without a style, just raw singing. But they have a style that is their own. Sometimes they sound almost like the Andrews Sisters. The music is in their singing voices as well as in their instruments. Both women can play a banjo and sing at the same time without looking at the strings. I'm told by banjo pickers that picking a banjo and singing at the same time is a very difficult activity. I watched these women make it look like no more effort than tapping your foot. By that time I was already so impressed it just seemed like the right next thing. All three showed me some musicianship that quite simply blew my mind. Every song. I'd have to turn the volume up really loud to get the feel of how they sound without electronics involved. No kidding, their singing is as satisfying as the Carter Family, though in their own way, not attempting to sound like Sara, Maybelle and AP, but having no problem honoring them.

I've run the volume up and sure enough, it delivers the feel of them singing and playing. Sarah singing Fifty Miles of Elbow Room and picking the banjo without looking. What she is doing musically puts me in mind of seeing a woman on a horse's back in a circus ring, the horse running around the ring---she's standing on its back, her arms out like wings. That kind of skill and grace. The three of them singing East Virginia Blues gives that beautiful song their voices, the three together. It's all I can do not to wax effusive and use words like amazing, awesome, incredible. The two women's voices singing harmony to David's lead, it's amazing. I've gone past being articulate. They blew my circuits. Ivy's fiddle is tearing up I'll Have a New Life. It's old-time mountain singing of that old gospel song. These people are something to behold. In the morning (Saturday) they'll be on WPAQ-AM, the Merry Go Round show at noon. My radio at the house won't get WPAQ. But---I can get it online. Yes. Google will find it for me. When you go to a music show of a band you've heard OF, but never heard but for a utube video, expecting it to be good, then these three people cut loose making music and it's like, Oh, I didn't foresee this. Ivy is laying it to the fiddle strings on Brown's Dream with Sarah's banjo clucking the rhythm and David's guitar making the rhythm roll. They play music. This is why they stand out. They play music. Thank you to Scott Freeman for getting them to play for us.

They have a website www.scbroadcaster.com. I saw they'll be playing in Durham Saturday evening at 7 after playing in MtAiry 12-1. They have a busy schedule. You can check them out on utube too. They'll be at Merlefest this year. From the looks of their schedule, they spend a lot of hours on the road. And it looks like they have a fairly broad fan base that grew by a roomful of people Friday night in Woodlawn. Their music is art every bit as much as a painting on the wall of a Thomas Hart Benton square dance, a poem by Carl Sandburg, Jascha Heifitz playing Scottish Fantasy on a fiddle that could jerk tears out of a statue. I felt in the presence of artists while they were making music, advanced artists unhesitant to make music. I think it was on the Diane Rehm show I heard somebody talking about stage fright. She said that the problem we have is seeing all those people and thinking they're all judging me. The fact is, they are. What you do is step forward and show them what you can do. That's what the South Carolina Broadcasters did tonight at Willard's Front Porch Gallery. They showed us what they can do. And it was good like a cup of your favorite coffee.


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ICY MOUNTAIN ROADS

down the hill


In the night we had an inch or two of snow with a film of ice on top of it. The road was scraped yesterday, but in the night received a thin layer of ice and some blown snow. Driving out of here this morning was ice all the way to hwy 18, 4 miles, half of it downhill and curvy. It's a good exercise for staying in the present moment. It will keep you there. I've driven on ice for so many winters I'm used to it. Last year was the first winter with Jr's car. That winter was characterized by quite a lot of snow and ice. Throughout the winter I took the car with new tires and front wheel drive through every kind of winter road surface. I appreciated the variety, because I was wanting to get the feel of the car and see how it did on ice. I'm comfortable with the car now, knowing its limit is a fairly steep uphill grade on ice. An upward inclination is fine until it takes a steeper grade, then the car slides backwards, turns around in the sliding and points down the hill with front right wheels in the ditch. That's ok I know I can drive out of the ditch. That was the only time I've lost it. Wasn't certain it would make it, assessed nothing is lost by trying, even if it doesn't work out.


What I don't want is to lose traction going down hill. Then it's like watching a movie on the windshield I have no control over. How I avoid it--don't lose traction. This applies for uphill too. Lose traction and start sliding sideways into the ditch. It's not as easy to get out of a snowy ditch going uphill as downhill. Once stopped on an uphill grade, it's a bit awkward getting traction trying to start uphill momentum on ice. What do you do? Keep the momentum going and keep it in the road. When I lose traction going uphill, I let up on the gas a bit and give just enough gas for the front tires to get enough grip to go. I gradually pick up speed so the tires won't lose traction from going too slow, keep the foot steady on the gas with no letup or surges.This evening I lost traction coming up the mountain only once, and that for no more than 3 seconds.


Drove to town this morning primarily to go to Selma's coffee shop. By now I have full confidence with the car, even with tires a year old, satisfied I can go anywhere in less than half a foot of snow. I've driven on ice aplenty in 3 4wheel drive pickups and one rear wheel drive before this front wheel drive Buick Century, my old man car. I like 4wheel best on ice and snow, but front wheel is so close to 4wheel in what it will do, the difference doesn't matter. It was a beautiful drive all the way to town, landscape painted white, trees like pencil lines on white paper. I drove slowly over the ice on the level part of the road because I did not want to be out of control for very long if the tires lost traction. Once on the highway the road was clear and there was no ice in the one place there is always ice. There might have been some black ice early this morning, though dumptrucks have been piled high spreading salt on the highways keeping them clear. I have to give it to the county's road crew. They do excellent work year round. In the winter, they're on top of it.


At Selma's it was warm inside. She said it had been a slow morning. I ordered my usual Kenyan coffee, which I find so satisfying when I drink it there or at home, it starts the day right. I want to drink it all day. It has that delicious a flavor for my palate. It's a relaxing flavor. Coffee tasters say it has a muddy taste. I believe I get what they mean. I'd prefer to call it a honey textured coffee without the mild bitterness of grocery store coffee. I don't know how to describe it. I appreciate the reference to a muddy flavor, though that doesn't describe it any more than honey does. It's a flavor I like a lot, and don't care to drink any other, because no other satisfies me. Kenyan does. Ethiopian is close in flavor, and I like it, but it's not Kenyan.


In the picture above you can see that I'm keeping the wheels in those two tracks of black, which is road surface. The white is ice. In this place I'm going is a downhill run, using the black tracks to apply the brakes slowing down enough to take the rest of the hill on ice and not lose traction. It feels good to know the roads here so well after 35 years of driving them. The mountains are good driving instructors. The first Nascar drivers were mountain liquor runners. These cold, icy days are rough, especially today with wind and ice crystals flying over the ground, blasting any exposed skin, like face, neck and ears. I go in weather like this like I go any other time of year. The car starts easily when it's cold, drives well on ice, so no problem. Don't worry, be happy.

ICY COLD DAY WITH KENYAN COFFEE

apples in tophats



The air has been cold and stayed cold. 13 is what the thermometer says now. It's been so cold for so long I'm used to being cold all the time. Inside, the thermometer says 70 degrees, so why am I wearing two long-sleeved tshirts and an insulated outdoor shirt above the waist, and below the waist 2 pair of sweat pants? Inside sweatpants tucked into white socks in shoes. Instead of keeping feet on the floor, I rest the heel of one foot on the floor and rest the other foot over the ankle above the heel on the floor. Feet are less cold when only the heel is touching the floor. Hands are warm. The air indoors is pleasant, but it has a cold chill inside the 70 degrees. It's the chill I'm dressed for. Without this outer insulated shirt I'd be too cold.



This morning I stayed in bed until after 11. Too cold to get up. Finally, I couldn't sleep any more and forced my way up. I was so cold, continuously, I decided to get out of the house and drive to town, have the day's Kenyan coffee at Selma's. Talked with Carole on the phone a bit, felt flat like the surface of a lake with no ripples, didn't talk long. I dressed up for an expedition into the snow, ice and cold. Went out and started the car, scraped ice off front and back windows. Just before the snow I rubbed vinegar on the windows, having heard it keeps ice from freezing onto the glass. That prophecy didn't bear out. The ice took extensive scraping. But the windshield was clean when it thawed from the inside.



Heading out for town, the Catfish drove on the packed snow and ice with no problem. Up on Air Bellows Gap Road, a white pickup passed going the other way. Two guys inside were looking at me with eyes that said, you'll never make it. I knew the drift they were thinking about. Their look told me to be prepared. I figured their truck got through it, so I can too. They left packed tracks in the snow I could ride through. Plus, they shaved it down to the height of the truck's undercarriage. When I saw it, I didn't question making it. It would take my 35 years experience driving this road where this particular spot drifts every drifting snow. I stepped on the gas aiming to plow my way through. About half way into it, guessing it 20 feet from side to side, the front end started sliding, indicating I was losing traction. Didn't dare stop, so I pushed the gas a little bit, caught traction and walked right on through the last third of the stretch. It wasn't a surprise when I came out the other end, but it did feel jubilant. Front wheel drive.



I surmised that would be the last obstacle between home and town. The road down the mountain was snow packed into ice where the tire treads went. Inside the car was warm, what I was really after, driving the car in coat and outfitted for 0 degrees or below, running the heat. Driving over the hill in Whitehead at Elvira Crouse's house, the other side is subject to weather quite different from the Whitehead side of the hill. The road was clear going into the blind curve to the right, but I kept speed down anticipating ice. There it was. Quite a good stretch of ice the sun doesn't touch. A bad place to lose control. Ran through Thompson Flat at a fairly good rate trying to blow the pile of snow off the hood. It made the surface drift onto the windshield where it melted instantly and wipers pushed it aside. A good day to take trash to the dump, figuring nobody would be there. Didn't see anybody.



It felt good in the car where it was uniformly warm. I took yesterday's netflix movie to the big blue box at the post office, dropped off a prescription bottle at Halsey's driveby, parked in front of the courthouse and strolled across hwy 21 to Selma's open sign. Two people were there when I went in, and before very long half a dozen more came in. Very different kinds of people are discovering her coffee. When Selma started getting my coffee going, she suggested I try Hawaiian. In my mind's eye I saw beach, Honolulu condos. Couldn't imagine there was any place left of Hawaii to grow anything; volcanos and condos everywhere.It sounded interesting, but I'd been anticipating Kenyan all morning. If I hadn't been looking forward to the Kenyan, Hawaiian would do. Maybe next time I'll go with trying the Hawaiian in mind. I knew if I drank something besides Kenyan today I would not have been satisfied. Next time or next next time.



Selma said something to me about trying something new, a new experience. It appeals to me to try something new, but this morning I was programmed for Kenyan. Could have had it at home, but needed to get out of the cold house. I believe it's in my horoscope that once I find something I like, I stick with it. The first taste of Kenyan coffee made me a believer. I've not wanted to drink any coffee but Kenyan since. It's not like a set determination, but that I love the flavor more than any other coffee. I told Selma once, it's honey to my palate, and that's as close to what I meant than any other likeness. I don't know coffee parlance, so must be satisfied with saying it simply pleases me like no other. Ethiopian is close, but not It. Kenyan is It. Since I've started drinking Kenyan, I've had coffee at the Circle L and other people's houses, grocery store coffee that comes from South America. I appreciate it as good enough, will do. A taste of Kenyan after a period of drinking South American coffee, I enjoy it all the more. I don't mean to imply the Latin coffees are bad. All the flavors from various parts of the world are good.



Kenyan coffee seems to my palate to have a clarity like no other. The Ethiopian and Indian I've tried are subtle variations on the Kenyan theme, only slightly different. Tasting them helps me appreciate Kenyan all the more. A few weeks ago I ran out of Kenyan and took a third of a bag of 4 o'clock coffee out of the freezer where I'd put it when the Kenyan came into the house. I was curious to see how it would stand up, considering it's been opened quite awhile, plus a period of time in the freezer. It wasn't bad. But it also wasn't It by a mile. The new bag of Kenyan, freshly roasted, told it. Upon first taste I asked myself, Why did you let it run out? At the time, it had to do with money. My morning quota is gone too soon every day. I could drink it all day and into the night every day for the satisfaction in its flavor. There is something about its flavor I find as satisfying as the taste of really good white liquor made from rye.



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