bluegrass – Baltimore Magazine https://www.baltimoremagazine.com The Best of Baltimore Since 1907 Thu, 22 Jul 2021 15:17:51 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://www.baltimoremagazine.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/08/cropped-favicon-32x32.png bluegrass – Baltimore Magazine https://www.baltimoremagazine.com 32 32 A Bluegrass Legend Grows in Baltimore https://www.baltimoremagazine.com/section/artsentertainment/bluegrass-legend-patrick-mcavinue-grows-in-baltimore/ Fri, 26 Jul 2019 08:30:00 +0000 https://www.baltimoremagazine.com/?post_type=article&p=17265

For the past 15 years, Patrick McAvinue has been a rising star in the bluegrass world, first finding his string instrument at age six in Baltimore County before joining some of the region’s best string bands (see Smooth Kentucky, then Charm City Junction) and ultimately working his way to to the national stage and being named Fiddle Player of the Year by the International Bluegrass Music Association in 2017. In fact, fusing his traditional sound with a medley of other influences, many consider the virtuosic musician a sort of best-kept secret of Americana. Though he now resides in Nashville, where he’s a regular at the Grand Ole Opry, McAvinue can still often be found in Baltimore, which he continues to credit as his home. On the heels of the release of his third solo record, Perfect Fit, we caught up with the fiddler to talk about his musical upbringing and evolving his old-school genre outwards for the entire world.

What does Perfect Fit refer to?
It’s a culmination of all the things that have come together in my life up until this moment. All the people I’ve met and artists I’ve been able to work with. I’ve been on the road since I was a teenager. My first tour was with Audie Blaylock at age 16. Then in college at Towson University, where I studied music, I learned about Bach and Coltrane and all these different techniques that I would then try to play at bluegrass festivals. In Charm City Junction, we tried to explore each other’s music in ways that respected tradition while pushing boundaries to create something new. I got the call from [national bluegrass band] Dailey & Vincent in 2016, so I moved to Nashville. I bought a house and just got married. All of these things have formed me as a musician. I’ve learned so much. And these tunes are diverse, but somehow, they fit together.

Do you consider this a bluegrass record?
It’s an expansion. No matter what, I’m a bluegrass musician. That’s what I’ve done all my life. But the music has to evolve. Bluegrass is still alive, still growing, and it’s made up of so many amazing pastimes—Old-Time Appalachian music, Celtic and [British] Isles music, the Mississippi Delta blues. Even Bill Monroe, the father of bluegrass music, was just trying to form his own sound. I don’t want to be a torch-bearer, but I am by default because I’ve been playing this for a long, long time. The music I’m creating is music of the people . . . That’s something I want to champion for myself and for my own music students: keep your ears open and let the outside world influence what you do and how you create.

You discovered bluegrass at a young age, when so many other kids are fawning over electric guitar. What was it about the genre for you?
To me, it was electric. When you listen to Earl Scruggs’ banjo, it is as exciting as a Keith Richards or Eric Clapton guitar solo. It’s like Stevie Ray Vaughn music to me. It’s got that explosive power, and when I was a kid, that’s what I heard. But what really got me was when I was about six years old; I was at my friend’s house and his father yelled to him, ‘Hey Wills,’ grab your fiddle, let’s play something for Pat.’ They played the mandolin together and I thought, ‘I want to do that.’ From there, I went down a rabbit hole, then I went to college and studied music, and my interest exploded even more. It was coming into a consciousness. Your mind starts to expand, and you start getting a wider perspective of the world, and what your part is.

Speaking of the world, you include a number of other musical influences on this album outside of traditional bluegrass.
I spent a month in Ecuador on tour in 2012 and I got to work with these musicians and see how they feel rhythm in choro music. And at Towson University, my classical professors had a huge impact on me, too. I would listen to Bach, Debussy, Beethoven, even early Gregorian chant. I had a chance to study other worlds of music that are completely separated by culture and time and let them influence what I do. That was something I really wanted to champion for myself, and that I now want to champion for my own music students: keep your ears open and let the outside world influence what you do and how you create. It’s really important for me to be a broader part of the world community of music.

That being said, you’ve seen Baltimore’s music scene evolve so much over the last 15 years. Do you still find inspiration here?
I’m continually inspired by the artists and people who are creating in Baltimore and getting to see so many of my friends taking their own approach to music continues to influence me, too. The people of Baltimore are very open and appreciative of art and self-expression. They let you be you, and have a good time doing it. Those are traits I take with me everywhere I go. At the end of the day, even though I hang my hat in other places, Baltimore is my home and always will be.

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]]> True Blue https://www.baltimoremagazine.com/section/artsentertainment/history-rebirth-bluegrass-baltimore/ Mon, 22 Apr 2019 08:30:00 +0000 https://www.baltimoremagazine.com/?post_type=article&p=16964

The fast times, hard luck, and rebirth of bluegrass in Baltimore.

By Lydia Woolever

Arts & Culture

True Blue

The fast times, hard luck, and rebirth of bluegrass in Baltimore.

By Lydia Woolever


Opening image: Earl Taylor and the Stoney Mountain Boys perform at the 79 club IN Baltimore, late 1950s. Getty Images

Backstage, behind the thick, dark curtain, they heard the hum come on slowly. “Like a bee swarm,” recalled banjo player Walt Hensley. It was a Friday night in early April, 1959, and hundreds, if not thousands, of urbanites had gathered here, in the heart of New York City, to hear these country musicians play.

Decked in cowboy hats and string bow ties, the Stoney Mountain Boys were not used to such sophisticated audiences or grand and gilded venues. After all, they were from a small industrial city south of the Mason-Dixon, some 200 miles away. But they’d been invited here at the behest of famed folklorist Alan Lomax, who wanted to show the world a “panorama of the contemporary American folk song revival,” with the evening’s concert also including gospel singers and blues acts, like Muddy Waters and Memphis Slim.

Looking out over the giant room, the band stood wide-eyed in wonder at the bright golden lights and the four tiers of balconies filled with red velvet seats. “It began to take effect,” said Hensley. “This wasn’t the kind of hall I was used to playing . . . ”


Banjo made in Baltimore in 1845.
National Museum of American History

But after calming their nerves with whiskey, the band took to the stage—frontman Earl Taylor on mic and mandolin, Hensley on banjo, Sam “Porky” Hutchins on guitar, Vernon “Boatwhistle” McIntyre on bass, plus Curtis Cody on guest fiddle—and though they were greeted with little applause, Taylor flashed a smile at his fellow musicians and launched into the fastest song they knew.

This rip-roaring number, aptly named “Fire on the Mountain,” was unlike anything these city slickers had ever heard—a high-speed, hard-driving string sound that exploded off the stage and across the audience like the winds of a locomotive. And when the final chords hit and the room fell quiet, the crowd erupted in cheers, “rarin’ and screamin’ and hair-pullin’,” as Taylor later recalled.

This unexpected music had been born in the rural South—a young American genre fueled by little more than a few strings and fast-flying fingers. But it would be these Stoney Mountain Boys, a bunch of blue-collar musicians not from Louisville or Lexington or even Nashville, but the streets of Baltimore, who would be the first band to perform it at Carnegie Hall, lighting a spark that would inspire musicians for generations to come.

“They were the first bluegrass band to play Carnegie Hall, and I knew those guys,” says bluegrass veteran Del McCoury, who spent his early days in Baltimore. “They had it, they really did. They made a big splash in that part of the country, man, and a lot of musicians sprang out of listening to them . . . But you know, they never got out of the clubs. They were just one of those bands that never did . . . ”

Bluegrass was born in rural Kentucky, stemming out of the simple mountain music from the blue-tinged hills and backwoods of the Appalachian Mountains. It was brought to prominence by Bill Monroe, “the father of bluegrass music,” and his band, the Blue Grass Boys, from which the genre takes its name. In the 1940s, with the radical picking of now-legendary banjo player Earl Scruggs and guitar player Lester Flatt, they gave country music a modern shot in the arm, ratcheting up the old hillbilly sound into tight, up-tempo tunes defined by their “hard driving” and “high and lonesome” nature.

Bluegrass would be bred, however, farther north, in cities like Cincinnati, Detroit, Pittsburgh, and even Baltimore. The Great Depression had struck a serious blow to the already beleaguered economies of Appalachia, and over the years that followed, much of its rural population would migrate to these industrial epicenters to find work.  The New Deal and World War II would create a boom for manufacturing jobs, especially around the Baltimore harbor, where the port lured laborers, longshoremen, and factory workers to the likes of Bethlehem Steel, General Motors, and the Martin Bomber Plant. By the 1950s, Baltimore was the sixth-largest city in America and a bona fide working-class town, built on thriving industries and an influx of both immigrants and migrants.


Curtis cody, earl taylor, Walt Hensley, sam Hutchins, and Vernon Mcintyre LIVE AT CARNEGIE HALL, 1959. Ray Sullivan

But besides their labor, these new rural residents were not welcomed with open arms. “No Dogs or Hillbillies” read For Rent signs of the day, which led many families to isolate themselves in like-minded pockets of the city, packing into rowhomes in Hampden, Highlandtown, Charles Village, Dundalk, and Middle River, which would come to be known as hillbilly ghettos. To foster a sense of community, these newcomers, most of whom were descendants of English, Irish, and Scottish settlers, turned to one of the few things they were able to carry with them from the mountains—their music—and before long, late-night picking parties cropped up in living rooms and kitchens on weekends. These impromptu concerts acted as common ground, with familiar jigs and ballads performed with a medley of string instruments. The fiddle played a starring role, while mandolin, guitar, and banjo filled out the lineup. (The banjo actually has deep Maryland roots, having been brought to America by enslaved Africans, many of whom landed along the Chesapeake. Later, the first commercial banjo was built in Baltimore in the 1840s.)

By the mid-1950s, house parties, more bohemian than blue-collar, had started to pop up in more affluent neighborhoods, too. In the homes of arts patrons, rural migrants mingled and made music with urban hippies and college-educated folkies. “We’d go in at 8 o’clock at night and come out 8 o’clock in the morning,” recalls Russ Hooper, a regular at these gatherings and a Dobro player in one of the city’s earliest working bluegrass bands, the Pike County Boys (whose frontman, Bob Baker, often threw such jam sessions himself). “I can remember going to brownstones up on St. Paul or Charles or Calvert Street with the likes of Mike Seeger,” he says.


RUSS HOOPER, age 15, 1951. Russ Hooper

In many ways, it was Seeger who changed the bluegrass game when he arrived in Baltimore for work in 1954. In addition to hailing from a rich musical family—his half-brother was legendary folk singer Pete Seeger, his parents were both American folk music experts, and they were all friends with Alan Lomax—Seeger would lug around a 40-pound reel-to-reel tape recorder to local performances. These recordings would help promote Baltimore artists outside city limits—Earl Taylor, Bob Baker, Hazel Dickens, who would become a trailblazer for female bluegrass musicians and early feminist songwriters. In fact, they would help land the Stoney Mountain Boys that starstruck moment at Carnegie Hall.

“Baltimore kind of lucked out that Seeger was here recording,” says Tim Newby, author of Bluegrass in Baltimore: The Hard Drivin’ Sound and Its Legacy. “It made a big impact. He had some famous connections that helped these guys get exposed to a wider audience.”

At the same time, the Appalachian picks and beatnik house parties had poured over into the local bars and clubs. There were dozens of what we would now call dives, speckled all across the city—the 79 Club in Federal Hill, the Blue Jay and Jazz City in Fells Point, the Chapel Café near East Baltimore, the Franklin Town Inn in West Baltimore, the Stonewall Inn and Cub Hill Inn north of the city—where some seven nights a week, that rhythmic music would burst out of these small, seedy watering holes as a growing brood of bluegrass musicians cranked away on the pint-sized stages.

“It was old-time music in overdrive, I tell ya,” says McCoury, who cut his teeth in some of these beer-slick, smoke-filled bars. “It really had something that would hit you hard, and lots of people said it was too strong for them! At that time, on the radio, you were hearing Bing Crosby, Frank Sinatra—that’s crooning music, and it’s really good. But it’s a lot different than bluegrass.”

Many musicians were playing every night, with an extra matinee on Sundays, on top of their full-time jobs. “They were long days,” says Hooper, who worked at Western Electric. “You’d play from 9 at night until 2 o’clock in the morning, just to get up at 6:30 and go back to work again. And back then, you were only making $5 or $6 a night.”


MARVIN HOWELL AND THE FRANKLIN COUNTY BOYS, 1963. DIANA DAVIES/RALPH RINZLER FOLKLIFE ARCHIVES

That hustle came out in much of the music, with most songs longing for the simpler days of country living or lamenting the hard luck of city life. And in these bars, known for their rough reputations and rowdy patrons, the crowds could relate. Fights were a common occurrence as the liquor flowed and the band only grew louder and faster as the hours wore on. “But we kept playing!” says McCoury with a chuckle. “Not the kind of places you’d take your wife with you.”

But it was in these bars that some of the most influential bluegrass musicians would master their craft. There was Earl Taylor and those Stoney Mountain Boys, who would go on to cut a record with Lomax following their Carnegie gig. Bob Baker and the Pike County Boys with Hooper, who, like many musicians, shuffled between different bands. Marvin Howell and the Franklin County Boys, which at one point included McCoury, who would eventually be scooped up by the one and only Bill Monroe after a set at the Chapel Café in 1963. “Baltimore was a great training ground,” he says today. “After the evening got along and people got drinking, you realized you could do whatever you wanted to, because the crowd would enjoy just about anything. You could improvise and try new things and get your confidence up.”

And that they did. “If you’re surrounded by great musicians—and these were some tough clubs with some great pickers—you’re going to bring your A game,” says Paul Schiminger, executive director of the International Bluegrass Music Association.


A young boy watches as LESTER FLATT AND EARL SCRUGGS rehearse backstage at Sunset Park, 1961.
John Cohen/Getty Images

Big-name acts would pass through Baltimore, too, on their way to the country music parks northeast of the city. Every Sunday, a stream of cars would file up and down Route 1 for a full day of entertainment at only $1 admission. In Rising Sun, Grand Ole Opry stars such as Monroe and his former bandmates Flatt and Scruggs headlined the New River Ranch, drawn in part by the event’s emcee, local radio celebrity Ray Davis, as well as the Campbell-Reed family proprietors, who were hillbilly music royalty, with matriarch Ola Belle Reed revered as a mother of bluegrass. The ranch was destroyed by a blizzard in ’58, but just over the Pennsylvania line, Sunset Park would live on until 1995 and host the likes of Hank Williams, Johnny Cash, and Dolly Parton.

But despite the trove of talent, in Baltimore and beyond, bluegrass remained somewhat of a niche genre, much as it has today. McCoury recalls early competition from rock ’n’ roll, with his schoolmates discovering Elvis Presley when he first found Flatt and Scruggs. And the hillbilly stigma remained hard to shake, as “the term ‘bluegrass’ often brings to mind this bad, preconceived notion of uneducated mountain men,” driving away potential listeners, says Newby.

“Bluegrass has always had its peaks and valleys,” explains Hooper, and that was certainly true in Baltimore, with the city’s scene never quite taking flight beyond state lines. Some musicians flirted with the edge of stardom, but most lacked managers or booking agents to help steer their business decisions. The Stoney Mountain Boys, for instance, found varying levels of fame but never quite capitalized on that Carnegie moment, ultimately ending up back in the Baltimore clubs before relocating to Cincinnati in the early ’60s.

Others simply passed up opportunities to find success on their own terms, be it for pride or blue-collar pluck. Ola Belle Reed was courted by “King of Country Music” Roy Acuff for a spot in his band, which she famously refused: “I wasn’t taking orders from no man.” And Russ Hooper unapologetically turned down a golden ticket from Flatt and Scruggs to keep his steady paycheck.

“There’s an old saying: don’t give up your day job. And I learned that a long time ago,” says Hooper. “At the time, I had a good job, and I knew if I hung in long enough, it would provide a good retirement, which it did. Besides, I knew how music was back in those days . . . ”

Another blow landed by the 1970s, when just 40 miles south down the beltway, a burgeoning scene would take advantage of the genre’s full potential. Washington, D.C., had started to gain notoriety for two new groups, the Country Gentlemen and the Seldom Scene, both willing to push the envelope further than their small-town neighbors, who were far more bound to tradition. With bigger, better venues frequented by a more attentive, upscale crowd, the district would soon be knighted “the capital of bluegrass.”

It’s ironic, because not only was Baltimore a pivotal part of bluegrass’ past, it also played a role in establishing its future. Though largely lost to history, Walt Hensley of the Stoney Mountain Boys enacted a sort of sea change with his 1969 solo record, Pickin On New Grass. In the age of experimentation, these inventive songs and the idea of a modern take on the old genre would inspire a new generation of musicians who, with less direct ties, if any, to Appalachia, could better relate to the emerging style. (One notable example is none other than Jerry Garcia, who infused sounds he heard in the Mid-Atlantic into his original jam band, The Grateful Dead, and later, his own bluegrass outfit, Old & In The Way.)


OLA BELLE REED, 1978. Ola Belle Reed

In Baltimore, this next wave would find a home around the cast-iron woodstove of Baltimore Bluegrass, a beloved music shop on Belair Road that, from 1975 until it closed in 2000, hosted weekly jam sessions and helped revitalize the local scene. It would be a place of refuge for both professional musicians, like revered picker Mike Munford, and amateurs, like a teenage Cris Jacobs, who took his first and only banjo lesson at the store. That one taste would prove to be enough for Jacobs, who formed his own bluegrass group, Smooth Kentucky, in 2003. The band would help launch the city’s roots music revival of the early aughts, as well as the careers of Jacobs, a rising solo artist, and bandmate Patrick McAvinue, who was named the IBMA’s Fiddler of the Year in 2017 and now performs regularly at the Opry.

“In many ways, it’s a natural evolution,” says Newby. “There’s this perception of bluegrass being this really old music, and its roots are old, like jazz or blues or rock ’n’ roll. But the term wasn’t even used until the late 1950s, and it’s easy to forget that these guys were trying to get away from some of that old country sound. They were experimenting, and the young guys are now keeping the scene alive in their own modern way.”

Today, Baltimore’s bluegrass heyday is something of a distant memory—the dives are long gone, as are many of the jobs around the harbor. But if you listen hard enough, and know where to look, you can still hear a hint of the sound that was born in the Appalachian Mountains and bred along city streets.

One of the last true haunts might be Jumbo Jimmy’s, a roadside crab shack in Port Deposit where bluegrass still incites a floorboard stomp every weekend in Cecil County. And nearby, in Elkton, Ola Belle’s nephews Hugh and Zane Campbell keep the legacy alive out of their old country store. In the city, every other Tuesday, musicians now gather in the back corner of the Five & Dime Ale House in Hampden for a traditional jam session, much like those of the hillbilly homes and brownstones more than half a century ago. And every third Thursday, local and national pickers perform at The 8x10 in Federal Hill, across the street from where the old 79 Club once stood, where Alan Lomax first saw the Stoney Mountain Boys. One night there this past winter, up-and-coming Baltimore bluegrass band The High & Wides shared the stage with the Seldom Scene, that savvy D.C. band from the 1970s.

“On some level, these guys become peers,” says Newby. “It creates a continuous scene and allows the younger musicians to feel like they’re a part of something—the next link in the chain.”

That link has been forged in large part thanks to another local venue: the rolling hills of Druid Hill Park. Now in its seventh year, the Charm City Bluegrass Festival has created new common ground for bluegrass musicians of every era, bringing together both old-timers, like Pennsylvania supergroup Bluestone (featuring Russ Hooper), and newcomers, such as The Dirty Grass Players and Charm City Junction (with McAvinue on fiddle).

Last year, Del’s sons—The Travelin’ McCourys—returned to their father’s stomping grounds and headlined Friday night of the festival. As the warm spring air whistled through the trees, they invited a half-dozen local legends on stage with them and launched into a hearty cover of “Why Did You Wander?” by Bill Monroe. “We played 30 minutes of traditional bluegrass, the way it used to be, here in Baltimore,” says Hooper, who was there that night and remains one of the region’s revered session players. “I’ve been doing this almost 70 years now, and I tell you what, it’s been fun.”

Despite its name, the two-day festival also draws from the broader umbrella of Americana, like local acoustic revivalists Caleb Stine, Letitia VanSant, and Ken and Brad Kolodner.

“All music is related,” says McCoury, who launched his own DelFest in Cumberland in 2008. “In my earlier years, I didn’t think that. I thought there’d be nobody like Earl Scruggs or Bill Monroe, which there wasn’t! But as I got older, I started to think, well, they had to listen to somebody who came before them . . . There’s a lot of good music coming from all directions, if you just listen.”

On the last Saturday of April, Cris Jacobs will return and wrap up the festivities with his jam band, The Bridge, which draws inspiration from bluegrass and the Grateful Dead. And when those hometown boys step onstage, it could be said that it was all set in motion by another band from Baltimore, who 60 years ago this month, as the bright lights rose and the room fell quiet, made music history.

“So many people don’t realize how much bluegrass was a part of this city’s fabric,” says Schiminger of the IBMA. “And how much Baltimore was a part of bluegrass’, too.”

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]]> Music Reviews: August 2018 https://www.baltimoremagazine.com/section/artsentertainment/music-reviews-ddm-soundtrack-shopping-mall-charm-city-junction-duckpin/ Wed, 15 Aug 2018 08:30:00 +0000 http://server2.local/BIT-SPRING/baltimoremagazine.com/html/?post_type=article&p=1241

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DDm

Soundtrack To A Shopping Mall (TBD)

We’d been waiting on the edge of our seats for this first full-length record from Emmanuel Williams, aka DDm. From one of the city’s most spirited performers, it promised to be swimming in swagger and subtle wit, and DDm’s solo talents—honed on the battle-rap circuit before forming his beloved duo, Bond St. District—are on full display. But this album is so much more than its fearless energy, irreverent humor, and abundant pop culture references. The creation of an ’80s child born and bred in Baltimore, it takes a thoughtful look at capitalism, celebrity, and excess in an age of ever-growing economic disparity in America. Across 14 tracks, it shines brightest in its buoyant, braggadocious moments, such as “Ready To Wear” and “Try Me On.” But its true strength lies in the final tracks, like “Forever 21” and “Closed,” in which he removes his armor of bravado to reveal a complex portrait of growing up as a young black boy in a generation of broken promises. With an uncanny awareness of city and self, DDm stares down those lost hopes and uses his own ambitious talent as living proof that you should never give up.

See our full interview with rapper DDm.

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Charm City Junction

Duckpin (self-released)

Over the years, Charm City Junction has become an integral part of the city’s swelling Americana music scene. Following their stellar 2015 debut, this new sophomore release showcases the quartet’s genuine chemistry and growth. Rooted in the acoustic traditions of their old-time genres, these 11 tunes are a tight display of passion and precision, using hearty melodies to flaunt their intuitive instrumentation, whether they’re harmonizing on vocals or strings—fiddle, mandolin, banjo, upright bass, and even one achy-breaky, breathy accordion. From Celtic jigs and coastal ballads to Appalachian stomps, each song unfurls with an organic momentum. Sometimes, they roll like a train, big and bold and building in tempo, while at other times, they’re more like a river, gentle and lush with a lilting rush of emotion. It’s the kind of music that can only be made by old friends—and old souls—and is best listened to outside in the open country air. Hold onto the season with personal favorites “Duckpin” and “Farewell Tennessee.”

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]]> Music Reviews: August 2017 https://www.baltimoremagazine.com/section/artsentertainment/music-reviews-latest-celebration-bumper-jacksons/ Wed, 16 Aug 2017 08:30:00 +0000 http://server2.local/BIT-SPRING/baltimoremagazine.com/html/?post_type=article&p=2813

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Celebration

Wounded Healer (Bella Union)

Celebration is truly Baltimore. For years, the eclectic electronic rock trio has made the type of one-of-a-kind music, nurtured on our small stages and lauded beyond our county lines, that couldn’t quite be pigeonholed. On this new album, frontwoman Katrina Ford is a fearless leader, her expansive, dramatic vocals sweeping across 11 tracks, while her bandmates, multi-instrumentalist Sean Antanaitis and drummer David Bergander, create imaginative suites of sound. Each song is distinct from the others—be it a reverberating, ’80s-infused rock number (“Rolling On”); a whirring, Wall-of-Sound love song (“Spider”); a spacey, symphonic expedition (“Velvet Glove”); or one steady, sunny duet with Future Islands frontman Sam Herring (“Paper Trails”). “Granite” might just be one of the prettiest songs we’ve heard all year. The joy of Celebration is that they take themselves seriously, but not too much.

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Bumper Jacksons

I’ve Never Met a Stranger (self-released)

As regulars at local venues like the Creative Alliance and outdoor showcases like the Charm City Bluegrass Festival, the Bumper Jacksons have become a beloved Bmore favorite. The energetic septet makes music for old souls. Their expert instrumentation, from New Orleans street blues to Appalachian backwoods country to old-school roots jazz, is a lively celebration of Americana, present and past. They’re best known for their toe-tapping, skirt-flipping party music, but on this third album, we found our favorite moments in the quiet corners of the slow songs. Sure, we loved the rockabilly rally of “Get On Up” and the swinging groove of “Many Paths to the Top of the Mountain,” but we fell hard for the gentle twang of “Technicolor Waltz” and the pedal steel of “Waiting Round Here.” We can’t wait until these cool cats come back to town.

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]]> Del Yeah! https://www.baltimoremagazine.com/section/artsentertainment/delfest-annual-pilgrimage-bluegrass-lovers-from-maryland-and-beyond/ Tue, 09 May 2017 08:30:00 +0000 http://server2.local/BIT-SPRING/baltimoremagazine.com/html/?post_type=article&p=3276

The golf cart that whisks Del McCoury around the Allegany County Fairgrounds during DelFest, the four-day music festival he hosts each Memorial Day weekend in Cumberland, makes more pit stops than a racecar at Daytona. The legendary bluegrass singer, guitar player, and band leader can’t travel more than a few feet without being stopped by fans eager for a photo or just hoping to share a moment with the man whose what’s-not-to-love-about-life spirit permeates the musical celebration he founded in 2008. McCoury, almost always dapperly dressed in a suit, not a strand of his white hair out of place, usually obliges.  

“We’ve met him a couple of times. He’s so nice and approachable,” says Elsie Little, a Baltimore County resident who has attended all but one DelFest with her husband, Brian Strawhand. They only missed 2015 because it was a few weeks before they welcomed their first child. Is it any surprise they named their daughter Del? “We saw Del [later that year] and introduced him to baby Del. We told him how we got engaged at DelFest, and he loved it. He came out that night and told the whole story onstage and then played ‘Streets of Baltimore.’”

That bond between artist and audience has made DelFest an annual pilgrimage for thousands of bluegrass lovers of all ages, from Maryland and beyond. 

Many people arrive Thursday, when the performances begin, and don’t leave until Monday, after the final late-night concert has ended. In between, local and national acts play tunes that span the bluegrass spectrum, with some country, rock, folk, and Americana mixed in. And musicians often sit in with one another, creating indelible, one-off performances. 

This year, Phish frontman Trey Anastasio will headline with his own band. Joining him on the bill—and possibly onstage—are Dierks Bentley, Béla Fleck and Chris Thile, Gov’t Mule, and the Steep Canyon Rangers, among others.

“I think the festival, with Del as the patriarch, honors diversity, celebrates innovation, and honors tradition,” says musician Joe Craven, who will emcee his ninth DelFest this year. “He creates a metaphor for how this country can be unified through music.”

The DelFest drive is a fairly straight shot from Baltimore via interstates 70 and 68. Though the scenery is beautiful, there aren’t many attractions to break up the two- to three-hour jaunt. But once you arrive in Cumberland, a small city of about 20,000 in Western Maryland’s panhandle, there are a few diversions that warrant a gander. Nearby Rocky Gap State Park (12900 Lakeshore Dr., Flintstone, 240-357-4404) features a nature center, miles of trails, and the 243-acre Lake Habeeb, plus all the amenities of the Rocky Gap Casino Resort: an 18-hole golf course, a full-service spa, and four restaurants. In Cumberland proper, George Washington’s Headquarters (38 Greene St.), a one-room cabin built circa 1755, demands a quick visit. If you have more than a minute to spare, the Western Maryland Scenic Railroad (13 Canal St., 800-TRAIN50), a historic railroad running between Cumberland and Frostburg, mixes mountain scenery and history. For outdoorsy types, the C&O Canal (13 Canal St., 301-722-8226) and Great Allegheny Passage trail (gaptrail.org) provide breathtaking natural splendor. 

For lodgings, the area offers just about every chain hotel known to man. For convenience and economy, it’s hard to beat Rodeway Inn (12310 Winchester Road SW, Lavale, 301-729-6700), which offers free Wi-Fi and is less than a 10-minute drive from the fairgrounds. For more creature comforts—and a central location in Cumberland’s historic downtown—try The Bruce House Inn (201 Fayette St., 301-777-8860) or Cumberland Inn & Spa (120 Greene St., 240-362-7111). Both book up fast for DelFest, but you might get lucky if there’s a cancellation.

But most attendees forgo all that and flock to the fairgrounds, which are nestled along the banks of the Potomac River. Multi-day passes include on-site camping privileges (but not parking), so people pitch tents near ball fields, along the railroad tracks, and in the woods near the water. Campers and RVs fill the lots near the grandstand. Grills are fired up, jam sessions erupt, dancing commences, inner tubes are inflated and plopped in the Potomac, and DelFest becomes home for the long holiday weekend.

Camping locations can get rowdy—this is a festival, after all—so attendees with youngsters generally opt for the Family Camp area, which is closer to the main stage and quieter late at night. Glampers can choose The Show Sherpa—a large cabin-style tent will be ready for you upon arrival. The rentals, which start at $425 for two people, also include cots, camping chairs, a lantern, and amenities like free coffee in the morning, a daily bag of ice, and a full camp kitchen. The only downside is that you are still largely at the mercy of Mother Nature. (Concertgoers are still talking about the epic hailstorm that bore down on the festival in 2009.) 

Del Fest Multi
Clockwise from top left: DelFest turns the Allegany County Fairgrounds into a hippie haven for four days each Memorial Day weekend; Bottom right: The man himself, Del McCoury, onstage in 2014. - Courtesy of Allegany County Tourism; JustPeace

Festival organizers do go to great lengths to ensure that most needs can be met at the fairgrounds. Dozens of vendors offer an array of cuisines, including barbecue, vegetarian, and Chinese. More than 20 merchants line the back perimeter of the main stage area for an Art and Craft Fair that features clothing, jewelry, musical instruments, and other handmade items from around the world. Movement Playshops offer classes like yoga in multiple locations on the grounds, and the Kidzone (Fri.–Sun. 9-11:30 a.m., 1-7 p.m.) is packed with activities like face painting and scavenger hunts. 

No matter how people choose to experience DelFest, music is the tie that binds. Songs emanate nearly nonstop from two outdoor stages and one smaller indoor venue.  Main Stage acts play until midnight and then bands take tunes inside the Music Hall for intimate (separately ticketed) late-night shows. Music is also omnipresent in the parking lots and at the campsites, where impromptu jam sessions welcome musicians of all skill levels. 

“Sometimes jams go for two, three, four hours, and people come and go,” says Strawhand, a mandolin player. “There’s some rock-solid, amazing musicians, and there are people just strumming along and singing. Young people, old people. Everyone.”

If you want to impress, musicianship can be honed the Sunday through Wednesday prior to DelFest at DelFest Academy. Tickets are $400 and buy you instruction for guitar, banjo, fiddle, mandolin, bass, and, new this year, dobro. Hosted by The Travelin’ McCourys (Del’s sons’ band), the sessions target individual needs and leave ample time for one-on-one interaction.

Presiding over the whole event is McCoury, 78, who grew up in York, Pennsylvania, where he learned to strum the guitar from his older brother, G.C. In his early 20s, he frequently played small clubs in Baltimore—then a hotbed of bluegrass—and developed an impressive enough reputation that Bill Monroe, often called the father of bluegrass, asked him to join his band. 

After a year with Monroe, McCoury set off on other musical adventures and got married. He worked in logging to support his family, which includes sons Ronnie, now his mandolin player, and Rob, who’s on banjo. It wasn’t until 1992, when Del moved to Nashville, that he became one of bluegrass’ most beloved ambassadors. In 2003 he joined the Grand Ole Opry, and in 2010 he received a lifetime achievement award from the National Endowment for the Arts.

Along the way, he performed at nearly every bluegrass festival around the country, but never thought of establishing his own until the idea was suggested by his manager. Sites in Pennsylvania, North Carolina, and elsewhere in Maryland were considered, but “the first place we went was the Allegany County Fairgrounds in Cumberland,” says McCoury. “I said, ‘We’ll never find a prettier location to have a festival.’ It’s really flat there, but you look across the river at West Virginia and it’s straight up. I said, ‘As far as I’m concerned, we don’t have to look any further.’”

They didn’t, and in 2008, DelFest was born. It quickly gained a national reputation as a festival embraced by both traditional bluegrass enthusiasts and those with more progressive tastes. It also has paid dividends for local charities and nonprofits. The DelFest Foundation has contributed $300,000 to a number of organizations, including the Western Maryland Food Bank and Allegany County Habitat for Humanity. 

“DelFest has become a part of the community,” says Brian Grim, a diehard festivalgoer, lifelong Cumberland resident, and, for the past six years, the city’s mayor. “It just has a really positive vibe that makes people feel welcome.”

That’s delightfully evident in the makeup of the crowd, which includes toddlers in diapers, grandpas wearing overalls, and many makes and models in between. They partake in various levels of partying. Friendships form in the rarely short beer lines (suds from craft breweries like Victory, Devils Backbone, and SweetWater are sold along with big boys like Stella Artois), and clouds of pungent smoke waft through the air—but remarkably, there never seems to be any friction between the factions. 

“It’s everybody’s happy place,” says Little. “Everybody’s having the best weekend ever. Kids are happy, parents are happy. It’s fun being around people when they’re happy.”

The man who makes this all possible has a passion for music that is infectious. Despite Del’s age (“I feel like I’m 17,” he says, chuckling), he will play sets every night but Saturday, and usually joins each major act for at least one number. To conclude its final show at last year’s festival, The Del McCoury Band chose “White House Blues,” a tune about presidents William McKinley and Teddy Roosevelt. The song, like the man who sung it that night, is old but still so very relevant today. After it ended, a cheer rang out from the crowd, one that has evolved specifically to honor the patriarch of this festival. 

“Del yeah!”

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]]> Charm City Bluegrass Expands Beyond One-Day Festival https://www.baltimoremagazine.com/section/artsentertainment/charm-city-bluegrass-expands-beyond-one-day-festival/ Thu, 16 Feb 2017 14:30:00 +0000 https://www.baltimoremagazine.com/?p=29838 The Chatter: February 2016 https://www.baltimoremagazine.com/section/community/the-chatter-overheard-in-sparrows-point-night-of-100-elvises-and-bluegrass-in-baltimore-book-signing/ Tue, 23 Feb 2016 11:01:00 +0000 http://server2.local/BIT-SPRING/baltimoremagazine.com/html/?post_type=article&p=5395

Graceland

December 5, 2015
Hollins Street

The walls in the upstairs Jungle Room are draped in velvet leopard print, matching the snug dresses on a few of the bouffant-sporting women hitting the dance floor as Rob Kilgore belts out a cover of “Lawdy Miss Clawdy,” one of the King of Rock and Roll’s early hits:

“Well lawdy, lawdy, lawdy
Miss Clawdy Girl,
you sure look good to me . . .”

There are all kinds of bands inside the packed Lithuanian Hall, covering nearly the entirety of Elvis Presley’s blues/country/rockabilly catalog on three floors. There are also enough Elvis impersonators—this is the 22nd annual Night of 100 Elvises, after all—to match every incarnation (Young Elvis, Comeback Elvis, U.S. Army Private Elvis, Bloated Elvis, etc.) of the singer several times over. Although, sometimes it’s difficult to tell the fans dressed up in homage to their idol apart from the professional tribute artists.

All through the night—which benefits Johns Hopkins Children’s Center—there are hula girls performing on the main theater stage, a nod to the icon’s Blue Hawaii period. Downstairs, near the Viva Las Vegas Lounge, the King’s Kitchen Menu features Elvis-inspired favorites, including, naturally, fried peanut-butter-and-banana sandwiches.

“I have older sisters; I was weaned on Elvis,” says Kilgore. “In fact, in 1972, I visited a girlfriend in Memphis and went to Graceland with her. Elvis was asleep—it was 2:30 in the afternoon—so we couldn’t go in the house. His uncle Vester gave us a tour of the grounds in Elvis’s Ford Bronco instead.”

Ola Belle

December 2, 2015
Falls Road

Caleb Stine, dressed in work boots and a plaid shirt, puts down his guitar for a moment, picks up a fiddle, and begins tapping his toes. “I learned how to play this tune from a recording by a Kentucky fiddler named Art Stamper,” Stine tells the three-dozen bluegrass fans squeezed into The Ivy Bookshop for his informal performance and a reading by Tim Newby from his new book, Bluegrass in Baltimore: The Hard Drivin’ Sound and Its Legacy.

Newby recounts the story of legendary singer and banjo player Ola Belle Reed, the Ashe County, NC, transplant who helped introduce Southern mountain music, first to rural Maryland and then to Baltimore. Ola, brother Alex Campbell, and husband “Bud” Reed built a stage at their New River Ranch in Rising Sun that would eventually host Loretta Lynn, Bill Monroe, Hank Williams, the Carter Family, and Johnny Cash.

In fact, as Newby says, the term “bluegrass”—to distinguish the new, faster, more intricate musical genre from traditional country or simpler “hillbilly” music—is first found in print in 1957 on the liner notes to American Banjo: Three-Finger and Scruggs Style, recorded by Mike Seeger in Baltimore. “The music changed some when it moved to the city,” says Newby. “It’s great today to see the Charm City Folk & Bluegrass Festival, which keeps growing, and a new generation of musicians picking up on that legacy.”

“I knew Baltimore was the birthplace of painted screens and Formstone, I didn’t know it was the home of bluegrass,” laughs store co-owner Ed Berlin as he hands commemorative mugs to Newby and Stine. “I do know something, however, about the family-owned company, Homer Laughlin, over 100 years old, that makes these pottery cups: Their clay comes from the Ohio River area—same place that music comes from.”

Points of Light

December 1, 2015
Riverside Drive

Driving past jersey barriers and heavy rail tracks, dozens of families—many including a member who spent his or her working life down here—eventually reach a warehouse terminal at the southeast end of Sparrows Point. The property is largely desolate now, and certainly it is compared to Bethlehem Steel’s glory days on “the Point.” But one tradition of the shuttered plant continues—the lighting of the “Star of Bethlehem.”

Handcrafted in 1978 by local steelworkers, the 1.5-ton star spans some 28 feet. It shone from atop the mill’s massive, 320-foot-high “L” blast furnace until the huge steel plant was demolished in January 2015, but was saved by the site’s new owners, Tradepoint Atlantic. Its placement high on a warehouse this evening is temporary until a permanent home is found, Tradepoint Atlantic CEO Michael Moore explains to the crowd, who are reminiscing over coffee and donuts before the countdown.

“I thought I’d come down and see a few friends,” says Virgil Hare, watching the lighting of the star, which is visible from the Key Bridge, with his friend and sister. “I started working for Bethlehem Steel after graduating from Dundalk High School in 1965—45 years—probably 55, if you count all the overtime,” he laughs.

Moore talks about the star, created when hope still remained for an already declining steel industry, symbolizing his company’s hopes for attracting new businesses to the 3,100-acre grounds.

Hare would like to see that, too, of course. He also acknowledges lingering frustration over the steel industry’s demise, in part, at least, from foreign competition. “I remember when that star was made,” Hare says. “From angled iron—‘Canada’—stamped right on it.”

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]]> Charm City Folk and Bluegrass Festival Announces Lineup for 2016 https://www.baltimoremagazine.com/section/artsentertainment/charm-city-folk-and-bluegrass-festival-announces-lineup-for-2016/ Tue, 24 Nov 2015 13:07:00 +0000 https://www.baltimoremagazine.com/?p=68082 Continued]]> Over the past four years, we’ve watched the Charm City Folk and Bluegrass Festival evolve from bands in a parking lot to an all-day festival in Druid Hill Park. And on April 30, 2016, that evolution continues with a stellar lineup and brand-new festival programs.

Festival organizers have announced that the 2016 lineup will feature bluegrass legend Ricky Skaggs and Kentucky Thunder; one-man jam band Keller Williams; first family of bluegrass The Travelin’ McCoury’s; Grammy-winning North Carolina band Steep Canyon Rangers; and mandolin player Sierra Hull.

Last year’s festival took place on April 25, 2015, which happened to coincide with the evening of unrest near Camden Yards and the catalyst for uprising around the city. Organizers say they hope the festival can shed a positive light on the city.

“Going into this year, we knew we needed to deliver an amazing lineup to our fans and the incredible Baltimore music community,” says festival co-founder Phil Chorney. “Music has such a power to heal and unite, and we feel that our continued support of the park and community is paramount to showing how amazing Baltimore is.”

Of course, another way the festival will highlight the local community is by featuring regional acts like Baltimore-based guitarist and singer-songwriter Cris Jacobs, and Pennsylvania bluegrass bands Cabinet, Colebrook Road, and Man About a Horse. Additionally, the winner of a battle-of-the-bands contest will open the festival.

A new addition to the festival is a program they’re calling Bluegrass Academy, where performers will give short lessons and discuss their music with fans all for free in a dedicated tent.

“It will be a chance for fans to learn some basics and maybe jam with their favorite artists on the instruments they play,” Chorney explains. “So you could learn mandolin techniques from Sierra Hull or banjo from Rob McCoury. Our goal is to get more casual fans playing music while providing them with an amazing experience.”

General admission and VIP tickets are currently available and, for each ticket sold, the festival will donate $2 to the Howard Peters Rawlings Conservatory & Botanic Gardens to support horticulture education programs. In addition, there will be beer provided by Union Craft Brewing and a raffle will take place that benefits Believe in Music, a nonprofit aiming to give inner city students a music education.

“Both Travelin’ McCourys and Sierra Hull have former Kentucky Thunder members, so I have a good feeling we will see some amazing jams and collaborations on stage,” Chorney says. “And that’s really what bluegrass music is all about.”

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]]> Book Reviews: October 2015 https://www.baltimoremagazine.com/section/artsentertainment/book-reviews-october-2015/ Wed, 07 Oct 2015 10:01:00 +0000 http://server2.local/BIT-SPRING/baltimoremagazine.com/html/?post_type=article&p=6047

Edgar Allan Poe’s Baltimore
David F. Gaylin (Arcadia Publishing)

You can hardly go anywhere in Baltimore without encountering an Edgar Allan Poe reference. But details about the iconic American author’s time in Charm City are less widely known. That’s where Gaylin’s book comes in. Through photos, sketches, and memorabilia from the 1800s, he illustrates Poe’s history—the early literary years with Baltimore mentors, the house on North Amity Street where Poe lived for two years, and his last days at a city hospital. At the end, you’re left with a better understanding of Poe’s troubled life, and the impact he continues to have on Baltimore.

Bluegrass in Baltimore: The Hard Drivin’ Sound and Its Legacy
Tim Newby (McFarland & Company)

In the ’50s, Baltimore was the epicenter of the bluegrass scene, which arrived in Charm City via Appalachian migrants. Newby’s work is momentous as it is the first compendium to examine this deeply rooted tradition. He deftly details the stories of big names who started their careers here—Mike Seeger (Pete’s half brother), Hazel Dickens, and The Stoney Mountain Boys among them. Even better is the “recommended listening” that starts each chapter, the perfect soundtrack to Newby’s words.

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]]> Travel Guide to Hippie Town of Floyd, VA https://www.baltimoremagazine.com/section/travel/travel-guide-to-hippie-town-of-floyd-va/ Tue, 30 Jun 2015 17:40:00 +0000 http://server2.local/BIT-SPRING/baltimoremagazine.com/html/?post_type=article&p=6507

It’s 7 p.m. and what sounds like a stampede has overtaken this country store. Inside, merchandise is pushed up against the walls, and the store is transformed into an old-fashioned music hall. Dancers are the source of all the racket—old-timers sporting overalls, middle-aged couples dressed for a square dance, and twentysomethings in jeans. Many wear taps under the heels and toes of their cowboy boots and shoes, as they shuffle up a storm Appalachian-style, keeping time with the banjo and fiddlers on the bandstand. Throughout the night, new bands take the stage, the tunes always tied to genres of traditional American music—mountain, bluegrass, classic country. And the dancing never stops.

Welcome to the Friday Night Jamboree at The Floyd Country Store (206 S. Locust St., 540-745-4563) in Floyd, VA, a mountain town of about 430 full-time residents. What’s so surprising about this tiny spot on the Blue Ridge Plateau is how much is happening here. Take this night, for example. Along with the jamboree, musicians stage open jam sessions on the street—there’s even one inside a barber shop with fiddlers ranging from wizened old men to a boy in his teens. Restaurants teem with diners, and, since it’s Friday, people pass by with wares from the nearby artisan mart.

So why haven’t you heard of Floyd? Well, finding it isn’t easy. From I-81, about 30 minutes south of Blacksburg, the twisty, 20-mile journey down tiny Route 8 is arduous enough to deter a casual traveler. Others skirt it while driving the scenic Blue Ridge Parkway. But Baltimoreans seeking a unique and unexpectedly affordable getaway will delight in the five-hour trek.

In 2003, Floyd emerged from a mere dot on the map in southwest Virginia’s Bible Belt to become a major destination on The Crooked Road, a trail of traditional American music venues featuring bluegrass, country string bands, blues, and gospel. Every year in July, American heritage music enthusiasts flock here for FloydFest, held in Rocky Knob (894 Rock Castle Gorge, 888-823-3787), a scenic recreation area on The Blue Ridge Parkway, about 10 miles out of town. This once-grassroots Appalachian Lollapalooza has morphed into a five-day, multi-generational Americana music marathon. This year’s lineup includes Emmylou Harris and Grace Potter. Plus, there are more than 70 artisans, homegrown food, a healing-arts village, and outdoor activities.

What’s unique about Floyd is its residents. Locals describe the population as a fusion of tie-dye and overalls. Originally a farming community, the town experienced a rebirth in the 1970s, when a group of counterculturists moved in. Drawn to the town’s organic roots, natural beauty, and lack of land restrictions, the “hippies” established a community dedicated to living close to the land. The contrast between a conservative farming community and entrepreneurial artisans, musicians, and New Agers might be contentious in most places, but that union defines the vibe here.

Eat Local

Organic food isn’t a new trend in Floyd, it’s just how it’s always been—whole food, locally grown, seasonally consumed. Members of the town’s progressive movement have founded SustainFloyd (203 S. Locust St., Suite H, 540-745-7333), which helps longtime farmers manage their land. Most people in Floyd have gardens and get their eggs from neighbors. And, they’ve started organic farms of their own. It’s by necessity—the closest mall is 45 minutes away, and the nearest airport is close to an hour.

Floyd’s produce, dairy, and meat farms sell on-site and at the Saturday farmers’ market (205 S. Locust St., 540-745-7333). The town also has a number of fresh-food purveyors, including Grateful Bread (109 Old Hensley Rd., 540-558-9395), known around town for everything from foccacia to cinnamon rolls. Red Rooster (117 S. Locust St., 540-745-7337), an organic coffee roaster, also runs the cafe Black Water Loft (117 S. Locust St., 540-745-5638), a lively spot where locals like to catch up over an oatmeal cream pie and a latte.

For a small town, Floyd offers an impressive array of dining choices that base their menus around seasonal, local ingredients. Pine Tavern (611 Floyd Hwy. N., 540-745-4482) serves family-style Southern comfort food such as fried chicken and mashed potatoes, while Dogtown Roadhouse (302 S. Locust St., 540-745-6836) makes wood-fired pizzas with gooey mozzarella, local sausage, and caramalized onions. Fat Spoon Café (274 Floyd Hwy. S., 540-745-4446), owned by Rich Perry, who has cooked for the Bush family, features home fare at prices not seen for years in D.C.—the vegetarian buffet is $8; the one that includes meat is $10. The menu at Oddfella’s Cantina & Tapas Bar (110 N. Locust St., 540-745-3463), housed in a circa-1910 meeting hall, is described as “conscious comfort food with an Appalachian-Latino twist.” The offerings, such as barbecued tempeh and grass-fed beef chimichangas, don’t disappoint.

Shopping on “Floyd Time”

When it comes to shopping in Floyd, be warned that it is anything but a one-and-done experience. Shopkeepers will greet you with, “Well, come on in!” like you are visiting their homes, and often will serve tea, fully expecting you to stay and chat. In fact, locals call it “running on Floyd time.”

FloydVA2

The town is chock-full of craft shops and galleries, like New Mountain Mercantile (114 S. Locust St. #A, 540-745-4278) and Troika Contemporary Crafts Gallery (203 S. Locust St. #K, 540-745-8764), that display regional artists’ handicrafts—handmade flutes and chimes, pottery, and eco-chic clothing. Quilts are treasured in these parts, so if you find one you like for sale, buy it—many fabricators keep them as heirlooms. If you are so inspired, you can learn to make your own, and Schoolhouse Fabrics (220 N. Locust St., 540-745-4561) provides materials. Its sign reads, “Come in and spend the day”—and you just might. It’s a three-floor menagerie of breathtaking fabrics, trims, and threads.

Farmers Supply (101 E. Main St., 540-745-4455), Floyd’s hardware store, is worth a visit. A throwback to the old days, it sells feed, seed, and maintenance supplies, but also a hodgepodge of unlikely items, like manually operated kitchen gadgets (e.g. a hand-press juicer and serrated grapefruit spoons for digging out the fruit).

You’ve Gotta Have Art

A number of artists have studios in the countryside, mapped out on the Floyd Artisan Trail (540-745-7333 or 540-230-7955). In her Sarvisberry Gallery & Studio (174 Sarvisberry Ln., 540-745-6330), Gibby Waitzkin creates paper by harvesting fiber from her own plants and devising organic dyes from her flowers. She incorporates the paper into multimedia photography. Bill and Corinne Graefe of Phoenix Hardwoods (2540 Floyd Hwy. N., 540-745-7475) create furniture from hardwoods they mill.

Throughout the year, art collectors flock to Floyd for a variety of open studio events, including the twice yearly 16 Hands Tour of the area’s pottery studios. Town leaders helped turn an old dairy barn into the Jacksonville Center for the Arts (220 Parkway Ln. S., 540-745-2784), which houses artist spaces, galleries, classes, and one of only three elevators in the county. You can take a jewelry-making class, or stop by to see a local work. Even the only hotel within walking distance of Main Street has an artistic bent. Each guest room at The Hotel Floyd (300 Rick Lewis Way, 540-745-6080), which was constructed with sustainable materials, is decorated by a different business or cultural organization. You can sleep under concert memorabilia in the Floydfest room or admire pottery in the one named for the 16 Hands Tour. If you miss the Friday Night Jamboree, The Floyd Country Store gets rocking again on Saturday and Sunday afternoons. The Music In The Mountains series runs Thursday nights from May through October on the town’s bandstand.

Floyd didn’t have its own tourism board until September 2014 when the town created a website and a new visitor center, filled with information about the area’s music and arts venues and scenic drives, plus a friendly local staff. But it keeps a low profile, and speaks to the town’s laid-back sensibility.

On a Saturday morning, for example, you’ll likely see a sleepy-eyed musician sipping his morning joe beside an elderly farmer in town to pick up seed. They’ll chat with a mom and her son about a recent little league game.

Oddfella’s restaurant owner Kerry Underwood appreciates that locals value individuality. He created a distillery, slated to open this summer, in the town’s renovated water-treatment plant, where he’ll make his own moonshine and brandies from family recipes. Underwood defines the town with a longstanding phrase used so often the tourism council adopted it: “Floyd, it’s a state of mind.”

Going to the Dogs

Winery offers day trip for guests, human and canine.

If you and your pooch want to take in the Blue Ridge mountain air, just roll off the exit between mile markers 171 and 172 and stop at the Chateau Morrisette winery (Milepost 171.5 Blue Ridge Pkwy., 540-593-2865). You’ll pull up to two fancy French chateau-style buildings overlooking a sweeping, verdant valley, and the spectacular Buffalo Mountain.

When the Morrisette family planted the first grapes in 1978, Chateau Morrisette was Virginia’s only production winery. Now, it’s one of the largest. Chateau Morrisette produces more than 60,000 cases of traditional French and hybrid varieties each year. The exquisite tasting room, housed in one of the largest salvaged-timber-framed buildings in the United States, offers 10 tasting wines, which rotate weekly. The second building contains Chateau Morrisette’s acclaimed restaurant, serving seasonally inspired Southern fare prepared with ingredients from the organic garden. Added bonus: The winery is pet-friendly. Visitors can dine with their dogs on the deck, taking in 180-degree panoramic views of the mountains, and people and pets attend the winery’s popular music festivals throughout the year.

The story behind this pet-friendliness goes like this: In the 1990s, David Morrisette, then chief winemaker and son of the founders, decided to rename some of the wines after his dog Hans—who was renowned for licking up spilled red wine. Morrisette slapped a rendering of the dog on the labels, and immediately, sales rose 200 percent. Intrigued by the spike in sales, he branded more of his red wine varietals with canine names and plastered them with Hans’ likeness. Sales leapt exponentially. Since then, practically every Chateau Morrisette bottle bears an image of a black lab and a handful have canine-inspired names.

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