Street roots., July 17, 2015, Page 8, Image 8

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Street Roots • July 17-23, 2015
Street Roots • July 17-23, 2015
Bluegrass pioneer
S.Z.: You have influenced
generations of women,
musicians and activists.
Who influences you?
A
Alice Gerrard, whose albums with Hazel Dickens in the ’60s and ’70s
paved the way fo r women in the genre, will play Pickathon in Happy Valley
BY SUE ZALOKAR
music, it might help to kind of bring the
community together more. I know it did for
lice Gerrard, born in Seattle, raised in bluegrass. It really created a forum for
bluegrass music.
California and now settled in North
I was living in Galax, Va., at the time. I
Carolina, is an American banjoist,
guitar player and singer with a career that didn’t really know anything (about putting
something like this together). I barely knew
has spanned five decades. From the mid-
how to use an electric typewriter. I didn’t
1960s to the mid-’70s, Gerrard co-released
have a computer. Nobody had a computer
four influential albums with the legendary
around there. I knew people to talk to, and
Hazel Dickens.
they were all very supportive. I had a few
Gerrard and Dickens paved the way for
friends (who) chipped in $1,000 or $2,000,
generations of musicians who traveled a
and within about six months of the idea, we
musical path behind them, including the
had
the first issue up and running by August
likes of Emmylou Harris. Together, the duo
of ’87.
later became known as “pioneering women”
And I did that. It was wax strips on paper
in bluegrass when the Smithsonian
and typing it in and dragging it up to the
Folkways released a compilation album in
printer and then proofing it. It changed so
1996. Gerrard is undeniably a part of
much over the course of the years that I did
bluegrass royalty.
it.
The daughter of trained classical
STAFF WRITER
A
musicians, Gerrard didn’t grow up with
bluegrass or folk music. Her earliest musical
memories are of singing along with family
members and friends around the living room
piano. She was first exposed to that “high
lonesome sound” while attending Antioch
College in. Yellow Springs, Ohio. She quickly
let the piano gather dust while she picked
up a banjo and guitar and began to immerse
herself in the rural, Appalachian music
scene that was thriving in Washington, D.C.,
where she relocated after college.
Gerrard and Dickens put out those four
albums, and then, seemingly just as
suddenly as history was born, their
professional partnerships ended in the mid-
’70s. Both women went on to do amazing
things on their own.
For Gerrard’s part, in 1987, she founded
the Old-Time Music Group, a nonprofit
organization that oversees publication of
The Old-Time Herald, which celebrates the
love of old-time music. Gerrard served as
editor-in-chief of The Old-Time Herald from
1987 until 2003.
Last year, at 80 years old, Gerrard
released her fourth solo album, “Follow the
Music,” which was nominated for a Grammy
for best folk album of the year.
Gerrard will perform at the 17th annual
Pickathon music festival at Pendarvis Farm
in Happy Valley. Pickathon runs from July 31
to Aug. 2. Gerrard will perform Aug. 1 on
the Meadow Stage.
Sue Zalokar: You put so much of your
energy into The Old-Time Herald...
Alice Gerrard: It still exists and largely
due to Sarah Bryan. She’s the editor and
does an amazing job.
I got the concept for the magazine in
1986 because I was living in Washington,
D.C., and was friends with Pete Kuykendall
(co-editor of Bluegrass Unlimited). So I was
kind of in on the beginning of that. I felt like
if there was a magazine like that for old-time
i
for a Grammy for Best Folk Album of the Year.
A.G.: Yeah. That was fun.
S.Z.: I think I question the judges’ final
decision...
A.G.: That’s very sweet I
won’t comment on th a t It’s
such an arbitrary thing; it’s •
subjective. People don’t know
who I am ... they’ve never
even heard of me. But, as we
say, it was an honor to be
nominated, and I had a good
time out there, just kind of
observing the scene.
S.Z.: What was your connection to music as
a young girl and woman?
A.G.: Both my parents were musicians
and had a lot of friends who were musicians.
They would come over, and there was
always music. Whenever people got together
at the house, there was always music, which
is kind of what happens with the kind of
music I play, too.
I grew up with a sense of music as
something that you do yourself and have fun
doing it with other people. That was what I
took away from my (familial) music
experience more than learning to play
music. (My parents) were both classical
musicians. They tried to get me to take
piano lessons, and I did for a while, but I
never really took to becoming a classical
pianist
S.Z.: You attended Antioch College in
Yellow Springs, Ohio. That was a hugely
influential time in your life. Can you talk
about that?
*
and yet the two of you in duet made
history and changed the way the world saw
women, specifically female musicians. In what
ways were two women who blended musically
so beautifully so different?
S.Z.: Bluegrass, country, old-time,
blues, gospel, folk, Americana ... roots
music. How do you classify your music:
A.G.: It was. More of what I found was
the folk revival, so a lot of people were
playing guitars and banjos. Mostly it was
folk music.
At the same time, I met other people who
were paying more attention to traditional
music, the more authentic side of traditional
music and going back to the sources. That
kind of steered me onto that path that was
more traditional and less folky.
S.Z.: And yet you were nominated this year
A.G.: That’s really a difficult question.
They do have all these designations. There
is probably a little of all of those things in
my music, I would say.
These designations are false in some
ways. I think maybe they began as a way
to divide up recordings in a music store.
Folk really means music of the people, but
it has taken on another connotation.
I like the designation “roots” music, but
you think of one thing when you think of
th a t And when you think of Americana, you
think more of singer-songwriter. You think
of bluegrass; that’s very specific, but then
they have “new” grass and classic bluegrass.
... I listened to all of that stuff.
I think of that Harry Smith “Anthology of
American Folk Music.” It came out in the
’50s. That was very influential on me and a
lot of other people. We listened to that
thing.... It had everything on there — well,
no rock ’n’ roll. But all of that (listening)
comes to play; it becomes a part of you, and
that’s what comes out when you make your
own music.
People who have listened a lot to source
music, that comes out in their music, too.
A.G.: I was raised in what you’d
call a middle class, educated to
some extent, family. My mother
was college educated. My father
L was not, but he was very self-
11^ educated. He was quite a bit
older than my mother. He
grew up in Wigan in
England, which is a coal
mining area, and his
& family was in that
■L industry. He was one
IHl of 13 kids. He ran
I away from home
when he was 12 or
H H Y 13 and came to the
H r United States. In
some ways, his family
was more akin to the way
Hazel grew up.
■
My mother was from a
farming family who emigrated
out to Washington state from
I New York. Her mother was a
| first-generation immigrant,
_____ I
and they grew up on a
HHRL, farm *n Washington. But
somehow or other, she
went to college.
We had achieved
H H r middle-classdom. We had a
■F house. We lived in a city. My
■ dad had a job; my mother stayed
I t home. I went to school.
F Hazel grew up in a big family of
F poor people. Her family were coal
t miners and preachers, and they
lived kind of a hardscrabble life,
mostly in West Virginia. They came
during the second world war, to
Baltimore, to get work. A lot of them
came to the city to try to have a
jjMjl better life, and it wasn’t.
■
We grew up differently. I grew up
comfortably, and she grew up
poor. And culturally, I was
exposed to more. I went to
Antioch College. My mother had
remarried after my dad died; she
I
18l|l
■Bil
S.Z.: Source music?
A.G.: You can hear someone playing a
song, but you find out that the person who
wrote it is actually Almeda Riddle out in
Arkansas. And so you go back and look into
Almeda Riddle’s version and see what that’s
like.
That was kind of the premise of the
Newport Folk Festival when it got started,
because to have this mix of more
contemporary artists mixed in with
traditional artists. So they brought Bob
Dylan, but they also had Clarence Ashley.
They had Joan Baez, but they also had Doc
Boggs or Almeda Riddle, and so people who
came primarily because they knew the
A.G.: I really like to
listen to the older stuff.
| That’s where my heart is.
It’s inspiring to me to go
to listen to people live. I like
to see what they do on the
H F stage and how they sound.
■ F Some of it’s pretty great, some of
F it bad. I like to get ideas from
others — the way they present a
song. The same way as when you are
around other songwriters. It’s
i inspiring. You may not write the
I way they do or even necessarily like
I some of the stuff they’ve written,
HN| but it can be inspiring.
HHT S.Z.: You’ve said you and Hazel
■F (Dickens) were a kind of odd couple,
S.Z.: How does it feel to be a pioneer?
A.G.: I don’t really think about it that
much, to tell you the truth. I feel like we
became more aware of that in retrospect as
time went on rather than feeling like we
wefe pioneering at the time.
I
names
, y
U H
of the
stars were
also exposed to the
older forms and were
sometimes very turned
U
on by them. It really
1
created this appreciation
of the roots of the music.
I think it makes a
difference. For me, anyway, it
makes a difference to have that
old stuff kind of in my rearview
mirror.
News
remarried a professor at UC Berkeley. And
then we moved into Oakland, and I was
exposed to all kinds of stuff. She joined the
Unitarian Church, and she became sort of
“radical, left-wing” and so I got exposed to
all this stuff that Hazel did not. She lived a
very different life.
In Baltimore, she (Hazel) met people.
And one of those people was Mike Seeger
(American folklorist, Gerrard’s second
husband, and half-brother to Pete Seeger),
who happened to meet Hazel’s brother. Her
brother found out Mike played music and
invited him over for dinner. Mike eventually
introduced me to Hazel.
I was in the position of listening and
learning for a very long time. We were
spending so much time together and playing
music. She was clearly a powerful influence
on me.
S.Z.: Harmonizing with Hazel must have
been amazing. A t a time when women and
poor people were being exploited in so many
ways, you and Hazel were taking action to
bring attention to these issues among others.
Did you all know then that it was something
exceptional?
A.G.: No. Well, speaking for myself, and I
think I can safely say that Hazel didn’t really
think of it in those terms either. It was just
that there we were and we were surrounded
by people who were very supportive.
She was now in Baltimore, now not
confined to her crazy family or her friends
or the old bluegrass world where you were
just a chick singer who maybe got to play
the bass and sing one Kitty Wells’ song. She
now had this group of friends who were me
and Mike and others who let her see ... I
don’t know how to put this: Hazel was a
really good observer of people. I remember
going into a restaurant with her and she
would just sit there, and those little black
eyes, they’d be darting around and looking
at everybody. She really took stock of
people. Having access to this different world
for her was kind of life-changing. Her friend
Alete was a social worker. I think Hazel
would credit Alete for getting her out of
what could have been a bad, kind of dead­
end situation.
We didn’t really think of it in those terms
(exceptional). We loved this music; we were
hanging out with lots of people who love
this music who were listening to old-time
and bluegrass and country in Washington
and Baltimore. We’d get together on
weekends, and we’d have a party. We’d play
music. We were always playing music. And I
was always learning.
I felt very much in the student role. I was
younger than Hazel, and I looked to her as a
mentor in a lot of ways. She was the one
with the experience. She had street smarts,
and she was a great singer — a great
intuitive singer. She never had a lesson in
her life. None of us had, really. We all
learned this stuff from other people who
played it and sang it.
There was a huge mix of country people
and city people who were having this
cultural exchange. They were very different,
but they were getting to know one another a
bit. There was something in Hazel that sort
of allowed her to be receptive to this — and I
was receptive to her. I didn’t grow up
Southern, and I didn’t know much about
poverty in Appalachia.
Page 9
Records, they would say I should have
There was something in each of us that
waited awhile because we were just kind of
vwas receptive to the other. Music was kind
hitting our stride, which is probably true,
of the connecting factor for all of us. From
but I wasn’t thinking in those terms.
that we came to be friends. The biggest
thing that happened to both of us; a friend
For a while, it was a little tricky. Over
of ours, Anne Romaine, along with Bernice
time, those sore spots healed.
Reagon (“Sweet Honey in the Rock”),
We played together a bunch, and we
started a tour in the South.
remained friends. She would come over for
Anne was a civil rights activist from North Thanksgiving. My family all lives up around
Carolina who was living in Atlanta, doing a
there, and they’ve all
lot of civil rights
known Alice since
upheaval (work). She
they were kids. She
got to be friends with
and I would go out to
Bernice. And they
dinner together
"People were organising and
came with this idea to having community events, try ­ around Christmas.
start a music tour that ing to address water Issues and And she went on to
would take traditional
do amazing things on
musicians around the poverty Issues. That was in the
her own.
Mountain Sonth. And then werd
South. This had not
go to the Deep Sonth.... We
been done, I mean
S.Z.: Your voice is
consciously, as a way
did that for a number of years. suited to the minor key.
of exposing the South They came up w ith a name for
I saw a YouTiibe video
to its own music.
of you singing “Bear
it,
eventually.
It
ended
up
as
a
There were two
Me Away, ” and you
nonprofit. Xt was the Southern
prongs: exposing
have a group of people
Folk Cultural Revival Project
Southerners to their
kind of humming
own music; the other Xnc. (laughter). This is a ll part
behind you. I got chills
was that when they
when you started
of the Southern Folklife Col­
see somebody like
singing. How does
lection at University of North
Roscoe Holcomb talk
music move you?
Carolina."
about and play his
A.G.: I love that
music and his
song. I got that idea
experience, it would
from Jean Ritchie
speak to the struggles
(folk singer and dulcimer player) from her
of working-class people in the South.
song “Long Lonesome Way.” She recorded it
They wanted to have integrated, black
with this kind of droning sound in the
and white musicians. Maybe five, six at a
background. I wanted to find out more about
time. They would go around to universities
it, so I called her up and she told me that
and colleges, communities in the South, and
when they used to have church meetings
put on programs. Anne asked Hazel and me
with dinner on the grounds, they’d having
to be a part of this, and that was such an
singing afterwards. Sometimes, three or
amazing thing. It is what exposed me to a
lot of stuff I had not been exposed to before, four men would stand on the periphery of
the group and hold a drone note. I had
in the rural South. We’d go into the
never heard of this. It fascinated me.
mountains and witness firsthand what strip
I recorded this song “Bear Me Away” for
mining was doing. And we’d talk to people.
the latest album. Rayna Gellert (American
People were organizing and having
fiddler and singer) was playing at an event
community events, trying to address water
put on by Folklife. She asked me to play
issues and poverty issues. That was in the
with her on a couple of tunes, and she
Mountain South. And then we’d go to the
wanted to pay me. I said, “No, don’t pay me.
Deep South. We traveled in a van. It was
Come to the studio and play a drone note on
always integrated, and we’d bounce around
your viola.” So that was her playing the
in a van together and then play these shows
drone note.
and talk about our songs.
It was an amazing time. It gave me a
She droned several tracks. It wasn’t the
deeper understanding of these issues, but it
exact note the whole time. It’s like real life,
gave Hazel permission to write about these
like ... an orchestra tuning up. That sound.
issues in her own songs.
S.Z.: How has the music industry changed?
It was a real life-changing experience for
both of us. We did that for a number of
A.G.: To some extent, when I think of
years. They came up with a name for it,
bluegrass music, I think everything has
eventually. It ended up as a nonprofit. It was
gotten much more technical. Sometimes
the Southern Folk Cultural Revival Project
people play notes that don’t need to be
Inc. (laughter). This is all part of the
there just because they can play the notes.
Southern Folklife Collection at University of
Technology has come and people have
North Carolina in Chapel Hill. People can go become more technical. Everything is
there and learn all about it.
“perfect.” There is no pitch because they
S.Z.: What a relevant idea. We could use a
traveling cultural exchange in our country
today. I tried to find an answer to this for
myself, but I couldn’t: Why did you and Hazel
parts ways professionally?
A.G.: It was a combination of things, but I
think in some ways, both of us needed to do
something else. We’d been doing it for a
really long time.
It was a little rough in the beginning. I
think if you talk to the folks at Rounder
can adjust your pitch. What gets lost is the
soul of the music.
You don’t have to have a note in every
space; often the spaces speak louder than
the notes.