I have an eclectic taste in music, but a special soft spot for old folk and bluegrass – mostly because I love the key of G – and I don’t think it really counts as bluegrass unless you can hear tobacco sloshing between jowls with just a subtle, little touch of racism.

I especially love to listen to those dusty, old records on dark, rainy nights, and imagine the taste of the moist mountain air, and smell the pungent smoke of tobacco pipes and old chimneys. Between the rapidly spun notes and percussive stomps, I can faintly hear the sounds of a bubbling brook, and a black-eyed dog barking off in the distance. And a little part me even feels the sense of dread that I’ve made a wrong turn and ended up in the boonies, where a hate crime might just pop out of the trees at any moment.

“Oh my god! Was that a shotgun?!”

My personal favorite artist in the genre is Ralph Stanley; a true legend who penned such poetic lines as “Hidey hibbety hubbety ho.” And those words always hit me right in the heart like, “Well mumbled, sir. Well mumbled.”

(listen at http://www.soundcloud.com/yourfaultforlistening/holt)

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s