That High Lonesome Sound

One of my many passions is music.  Although I enjoy nearly every genre, one stands above the rest: bluegrass.  While there are many different definitions of what is or is not bluegrass, anything with a banjo and mandolin makes my heart sing.  One of the many reasons that I cherish Americana roots music is the sense of adventure found in the improvisation. There is something daring and beautiful that happens when a picker takes a turn and lets his fingers dance a bit.  This excites me because rarely can we witness the creation of something so beautiful and also unique, that moment of improvisation is both given and lost in a moment and only the reverberations linger.

There is a soul to this music rooted in the hills of Appalachia, nurtured in the hills of the Ozarks and refined the mountains of Colorado.  When I think on the geographic progression of the music, it mimics my move from the Carolinas to Colorado via Arkansas.  The words speak of hope found in pain seen through the lens of folk tied desperately to an unforgiving and rocky land.  Bluegrass pioneer Bill Monroe defines the music this way: "Scottish bagpipes and ole-time fiddlin'. It's Methodist and Holiness and Baptist. It's blues and jazz, and it has a high lonesome sound. It's plain music that tells a good story. It's played from my heart to your heart, and it will touch you. Bluegrass is music that matters." In many ways, Bluegrass music is the truest form of American music, a melting pot of European and African influences.  It is in our bones and it is in my blood.

My deepest attraction to this music is found in the "high lonesome sound" of my Grandfather Madison Pierce's Dobro (pictured above).  Before he left us nearly 20 years ago, Madison would tune his Dobro and head downtown for a "singing."  there other musicians would congregate to play the standards, a few hymns, and maybe a country song or two.  Everyone was invited to sit-in, there was no set band but you better be ready cause if you got the nod, you better have something to offer.  I am sad that I've only heard stories and seen videos of these singings. Yet, just as talented of a musician as my Grandfather was, so also he could tell a story and that gift in particular has carried down to his family.  My Grandma can bring me to tears merely describing the tone of Madison's Dobro.  That steel whine provides the soundtrack to my dreams.  Oh, I can't wait to pick one out with him one day in glory.  But for now, I honor my heritage and my heart by playing and listening to the music I love dearest.  And this is good because this is true music.  It tells the story of our pain and finds the courage to celebrate in the midst of that pain.  The "high lonesome sound" knows trouble and yet hopes for a brighter day when our tears are made dry.

So I leave you with a sample of that "high lonesome sound."