Pictures from Sunday's Dance

Here are some pictures from the dance we played Sunday night. Thanks to Paul Stamler for taking the pictures while we were busy playing and thanks to Bill Stewart for putting them on a CD and giving a copy to me.

Hope you enjoy seeing these as much as I enjoyed playing there!

The band (with caller's foot)

The first contra of the evening

Dancing to "My Own House Waltz"

The view from the bandstand

A closer look at the Mound City Slickers:

Roy

David

Bill

Bob

Sean (your humble author)

This all looks like a lot of fun, doesn't it?

Big Fun at the Dance

The contra dance band that I play with, The Mound City Slickers, played for the Childgrove Country Dancers last night. I can’t tell you how much fun it was. This was the first dance we’ve played for with our current lineup of two fiddles, banjo, guitar, and ukulele, and with all due modesty, I want to say we were hot. I think we impressed the callers, too, since we took requests and didn’t have any trouble changing up the set list to accommodate the dances that the callers wanted to call.

It was interesting (and fun) that there was a different caller for each dance last night; something that I’ve not run into before. Each caller had a different level of experience and a different style. But we got through them all without a train wreck and had a blast doing it. I think mixing up the callers kept us interested as well as the dancers because of all the differences.

Other excitement for the evening was that there was a casting crew at the dance for some reality show called The Farmer’s Wife or something like that. Apparently, they’re going to film this TV program in or around St. Louis (a hotbed of farming and rural life…. Yeah. Right.) where ten women from L.A. try to get a farm boy to pick them to marry and win a lot of money. One of the “tasks” that they’ll have the women do to prove they’re worthy is go to a square dance. Likely, the point will be to show how goofy and humorous folks who square dance are. Anyway, we had a group of heavily tattooed, very hip young women from Hollywood running around with cameras filming the dance and getting people to sign up to possibly be dancers when they film the actual dance for the show. Which I understand they’re going to film under the Gateway Arch. Yes, it makes no sense to me either. But we all had a good time watching them film the band and the dancers and the five of us agreed that if they asked us to play for the dance on TV and gave us a lot of money, we’d be more than happy to do it.

Of course, as always, the big fun of the evening was getting to play tunes and watch the dancers having so much fun moving around the floor. It’s what the music is all about. It just doesn’t get any better than playing good music with friends for a bunch of appreciative dancers. I don’t know how long I’ll keep smiling about last night. Probably a long time.

Battle Ground

Well, I'm back from the Battle Ground festival and I'm soggy, but not much worse for wear. Even though there was a lot of rain and my brother and I drove back Saturday afternoon instead of Sunday morning as we'd intended to do, we had a real good time while we were there. Saturday was beautiful. Mild temperatures and sun without a lot of humidity. No problems putting up our tents, and the new pop-up canopy I'd bought since getting back from Mt. Airy worked like a dream, giving us shade and a good place to sit, play tunes, and drink a few beers.

Picture actually taken in 2005.

I forgot to take any this year!

The evening concert was good, though too long. Afterwards, we wandered the campground, greeted old friends and new friends, and eventually found our way back to our tents and played tunes until about 2:30 in the morning. Several folks from St. Louis joined us as well as a couple of friends I'd never met before. The big surprise was seeing Bruce, who'd camped next to me at Lanesboro the last two years walk up with his fiddle. He said he hadn't been to Battle Ground for seven years! But he was walking past our campsite and heard good music and decided to sit in for a bit. We neither of us knew the other would be here! When we recognized each other it was hugs and how-ya-doin's all around. Then a few more tunes.

Again, 2005

Unfortunately, the rain came about 4:00 AM and kept it up all morning. I managed to get in another couple of hours of playing under the canopy before it, too, got waterlogged and started leaking at the seams. Then word came that there would be thunderstorms rolling in later that afternoon. So, Kevin and I packed up and headed for home. There'll always be next year!

Not A Bad Afternoon At All

As some of you probably know, I teach mountain dulcimer lessons at The Folk School of St. Louis. Sometimes teaching can be just awful. Students don’t show up; you don’t get paid on time; students don’t practice or their minds are elsewhere during the lesson and sitting there listening to them fumble through a tune is just painful.

Then there are days like yesterday, when I had three students who were so much fun I didn’t want the lessons to end.

My first student of the day came back to lessons after about a month off full of energy and wanting to learn. It was great. Then my second student of the day was even better. She’s been struggling since she started coming in a few months ago. But something seems to have happened recently and she’s now really “getting it”. She’s picking up the tunes faster and seems to have a much more responsive attitude to learning how to play.

Last student of the day was a new one. And what fun! She really seemed happy to be there and we both laughed a lot and had a real good time. I think she’s going to be a good one.

After my regular lessons, I got some time before packing up to sit with a student who’s taking one of the school’s ensemble classes and go over a tune (“Possum On A Rail”) she’s learning on the fiddle with her. Jill’s fairly new to fiddling and was feeling a little unsure of her playing on the tune. I was able to sit and play it for her a couple of times so she could hear that she is remembering/playing it correctly and that it’s not really a hard tune at all. She beamed when she realized that she can play it for the class.

Quite a day. Three good teaching experiences in one afternoon. It makes the more difficult ones all worth doing.

"Marmaduke's Hornpipe" and Me

Imagine my surprise! I was sitting around at the Folk School of St. Louis one day earlier this week, waiting for one of my dulcimer students to show up and happened to pick up an old copy of The Devil’s Box to read. The Devil’s Box was a now defunct magazine about fiddling and fiddlers that ran for a few years. There was an article in this particular issue written by Dr. Howard Marshall (whose Fiddling Missouri CD on the Voyager label is well worth having, by the way) on the tune "Marmaduke’s Hornpipe". Now, this is a tune I really enjoy playing, so the article was a much welcome time-killer.

Right at the beginning, Dr. Marshall remarks that the tune is probably named for John Sappington Marmaduke, whose maternal grandfather was Dr. John Sappington, a pioneer in the use of quinine as a treatment for malaria and resident of the Little Dixie area of Missouri. Well, you could have knocked me over with a feather. I literally had to gasp when I read that.

You see, my great grandfather on my mother’s side was Eugene Sappington, son of John Sappington of Sappington, Missouri just outside of St. Louis where I live. Our John Sappington was a close relative of the Little Dixie John Sappington. Or so the family lore goes. Possibly a son, though our family history is vague on this point. Eugene was the original owner of one of the fiddles I play today. Or maybe it was his father, John. Again, it's kind of vague.

Over the years, I’ve heard many stories at family gatherings about our old John Sappington and his accomplishments. My grandmother often talked about him. I’ve toured the Sappington house in what is now Crestwood, MO knowing that this was his house and having my grandmother tell me of playing in it when she was a child; heard stories (true or not, I don't know) about how the house was a stop on the underground railway during the Civil War; heard stories about how his son, my great grandfather, had a barbershop in the Crestwood/Afton area and how he and my great grandmother Rose got married. I’ve always had a spot of pride for that branch of the family. But now that I know I’m related through old John to the fellow for whom “Marmaduke’s” is named, I could about burst with pride.

And that I play that tune on that fiddle! I wonder; did old John ever listened to his son play that hornpipe on that fiddle? I wonder if J. S. Marmaduke ever sat with his kinfolk over a cup of coffee at the Sappington house and listened, as well.

And had my student not been caught in traffic on that Tuesday afternoon, I might never have known about this. Wow! Life is indeed stranger than fiction.

I suppose that there is some genealogical work in my future to run down the facts of my kinship to Marmaduke and his hornpipe.

Tattoo!

Because you demanded it. Well, one of you anyway. A photo of the tattoo I got last Thanksgiving.



I had wanted to get one for years, but could never decide what I'd want permanently affixed to my body that I wouldn't change my mind about later. Then I saw the cover of R. P. Christeson's The Old-Time Fiddlers Repertory and I knew this was it.

Wednesday Night Session

Yesterday was a mess. The day job was hectic and stressful... headaches in other areas of life hitting me all at once... hadn't had time in the morning to meditate... had a development committee meeting for the Folk School in the early evening... yearghh!

Then I went over to Bob's house (that's Bob in the picture below) for the Wednesday night old-time music session he hosts.

(Bob at Bluff Country Gathering '07)

Sat down. Tuned up the banjo uke. The first tune we played was "Sheep Shell Corn By the Rattlin' of His Horn". With the first couple of notes, all of the stress and bother of the day slid off me like water off a duck. By the time a few others showed up with fiddles, upright bass, banjos, and guitars I had a smile on my face that wouldn't leave until the tunes were over and it was time to drive home.

There is just nothing in this world like old-time music played with enthusiasm and friendship to put the day's cares in perspective.

Pictures from Mt. Airy

So, my friend Renee mentioned to me her disapointment at my not posting anything yesterday. Busy day at work... too much to do... blah, blah, blah... It's forced me to return to the Mount Airy well and post some photos of people playing tunes. Hope you all enjoy them. If I get time in the next couple of days, I'll post some of the pictures I took a few weeks ago at The Bluff Country Gathering. 'Cause, of course, you can't ever have too many photographs of people playing fiddles and banjos.

Above is a picture of Woody McKenzie playing fiddle and Jack (didn't get his last name) with a banjo on his lap. Woody is one of the nicest fellows I've yet met and a heck of a fine fiddler. Jack is a lot of fun as well and loves to sing those old-time songs.

Later in the afternoon, Woody took the time to teach "Spotted Pony" to a young girl who is just starting out on fiddling. His patience, skill at explaining, and enjoyment at seeing her picking it up were a great thing to watch.

Mark Twain and the Banjo

Nothing to do with fiddling, old-time music, or dulcimers today. But I like Mark Twain and I like banjos, so when I ran across these quotes, they seemed a good couple of things to pass along.

"When you want genuine music--music that will come right home to you like a bad quarter, suffuse your system like strychnine whisky, go right through you like Brandreth's pills, ramify your whole constitution like the measles, and break out on your hide like the pin-feather pimples on a picked goose,--when you want all this, just smash your piano, and invoke the glory-beaming banjo!"- Mark Twain, San Francisco Dramatic Chronicle, 6/23/1865

"A gentleman is someone who knows how to play the banjo and doesn't." - Mark Twain

New Tunes

Like many fiddlers, I have a goal of learning a new tune every week. Most of the time, it happens more like one a month. But that's okay, too.

Tunes I'm currently working on getting into my repertoire are:
Georgia Row
Joys of Quebec
Run Down Boot
La Grande Chaine
and Grand Picnic

Most of these are tunes I heard folks play while at Mt. Airy last week and just enjoyed so much I want to be able to play them whenever the mood strikes.

"Run Down Boot" is an Illinois tune that I had heard Chirps Smith play and was reminded of last week in a jam session in Mt. Airy. Then, playing with my friends here in St. Louis on Wednesday evening, it came up again. It's fate. I have to sit down and learn it.

"Grand Picnic" is a tune I originally heard Joe Politte play on (I think) the great I'm Old But I'm Awfully Tough LP that the Missouri Friends of the Folk Arts put out many years ago. The early 70's, unless I'm mistaken! It never made much of an impression on me until yesterday when I heard a recording of my friend Lois Hornbostle playing it with a contest band at Union Grove. Played at a moderate speed, it's a beautiful tune! Here's a link to a You Tube clip of them playing it: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aB-XfD9hoMQ. Now I'll have to dig out the CD copy friends Janet and Mark made for me of ...Awfully Tough and see how Mr. Politte played it.

Back from Mt. Airy

Well, Amy and I got back Sunday this week from the Mt. Airy Fiddlers Convention out in the mountains of North Carolina, but this is the first opportunity I've had to put my thoughts together about it. It was a much needed and appreciated trip. We had nice weather, met some good folks, heard lots of fine old-time music and shared a lot of tunes.

The drive out was pleasant. We rented a car, packed it full of tent, sleeping bags, cooler, Amy's knitting, and my instruments and headed east. The countryside was beautiful and we gawked at old farm houses, barns, cows, horses, goats, and pigs the whole way out. And, of course, the mountains are always good to see. Driving through the tunnels in the mountains in West Virginia tickled Amy no end.

Once we got to Mt. Airy and set up camp, we introduced ourselves to those camped around us. They made us feel awfully welcomed and we started playing tunes right away. Thanks so much to Dave, Woody, Banjo Marsha, Art, Kathy, Sherry, Linda, Dennis, Frank, Dulcimer Marsha, Sandy, Jeff, Anna from Vermont, Bryant and all the rest for treating us like they'd known us forever even though this was our first time (though, not the last, I'm sure) there. Old time music is all about community and good times, so it's not surprising that we formed our own small community so quickly.

Thanks also for turning me on to new tunes that I hadn't heard before or hadn't thought of in a long time. "Georgia Row", "Joys of Quebec", "Run Down Boot", and "La Grande Chaine" are all on my list to learn now, thanks to the bunch of you!

While I played tunes like there was no tomorrow, Amy spent time reading, knitting, talking with new friends and relaxing. I think we both needed it!

Friday night brought the band contests and Amy and I walked over from our camp to listen. There were over 100 bands competing and we heard something like 30 of them, including The Roan Mountain Hilltoppers, which was a great treat for me.

Of course, before the contests and during breaks in the action, Amy and I wandered around the vendors area for fresh lemonade, home made ice cream and to check out the instruments for sale. Also had to look at (and buy a couple of) the CDs for sale at John Hatton's Clef'd Ear booth.

So, we're back. And glad to be sleeping in our own bed, home with the kid and the cat. But we're missing Mt. Airy, too. Good thing it's only a couple of weeks until Battleground!