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Oh, sister, where are thou? The Flat Mountain Girls scale Portland's old-time music scene.
Twang time Local musicians, fans embrace resurgence of old-time music
BY
STEPHEN BLAIR Issue date: 3/1/2002
The Tribune

In an age when people
compose music on computers, it seems that banjos and fiddles would have
as much popular appeal as eight-track tapes.
But then along came “O Brother, Where Art Thou?” The 2000 Coen Brothers
movie found a big audience, but the soundtrack was the real success
story. Loaded with American folk tunes from the Dust Bowl days of the
1930s, the album picked up six Grammy nominations and has sold more
than 4 million copies to date. These throwback tunes
fall in the genre known as old-time music. This category, local
musician Bill Martin says, encompasses fiddling, acoustic country music
and rural gospel singing. Old-time music predates
bluegrass, an offspring of old-time that became a commercially viable
form in the 1940 with musicians such as Bill Monroe. Unlike old-time
music, bluegrass integrates instrumental solos and contemporary genres
such as rock ’n’ roll. Why the current craze for
old-time music? Martin speculates: “We’re moving toward a culture ruled
by CDs and television, and people need relief. Old-time music has a
conversational style. It’s accessible. People can play it themselves.”
Lisa Marsicek, a fiddler for the Portland old-time band
The Flat Mountain Girls, also maintains that the appeal of this music
lies in its simplicity and lack of artifice. “Pop
music, with its hot stars, tells you these are people you can’t be,”
she says. “Old-time music is accessible to everybody. It just takes
three chords on the guitar and the will to sing it.”
As a testament to the popularity of old-time music in Portland,
the “Down From the Mountain” concert with “O Brother” soundtrack alumni
such as Alison Krauss played to a sold-out crowd at the Arlene
Schnitzer Concert Hall last month. Steve Waller, a
veteran of the Oregon bluegrass scene, attended the show. The pleasure
of experiencing this music live, he says, is “seeing human fingers
passing over wood and steel. It’s honesty, right from the players to
the audience.” Old is new again A star-studded show
like “Down From the Mountain” comes along once in a blue moon. But you
can track down high-caliber old-time music nearly every night of the
week at Portland venues such as The Snake and Weasel, The White Eagle,
the Alberta Street Public House and The Moon and Sixpence pub.
“The old-time traditional music and bluegrass scene in
Portland is bursting with energy right now,” says Martin, 55, a
lifelong fan of the music. “This has been building for three years but
got a real shot in the arm from ‘O Brother.’ Bluegrass and old-time
fiddle shows in Portland get sold out regularly now.”
P.T. Grover Jr., a Georgia native who plays banjo for the
five-man instrumental group Foghorn Leghorn, adds: “Portland has the
highest-profile old-time scene of anywhere I’ve been.”
At 32, Grover already feels like a veteran in the Portland
old-time scene. When he started playing in Georgia at age 18, “I never
met anyone close to my age playing old-time music. Out here in
Portland, I’m one of the oldest people playing.”
From the Wednesday night old-time music jams at the Alberta
Street Public House to square dances at the Northeast Russell Street
venue Disjecta, the scene has gallons of young blood pumping through it.
“Most of the new fans are kids in their 20s — or younger,”
Martin says. “Nobody can say why, exactly, but I have a theory that the
revival of interest around here happened first among jaded rock
musicians who got turned on by the more primitive sounds of old-time
music.” Stephen “Sammy” Lind, 24, was a rock
musician before becoming the fiddle player for Foghorn Leghorn. The
melodies of fiddle tunes, he recalls, made a convert out of him.
“They’re beautiful,” he says simply. Brian Bagdonas,
who is 29, played punk rock before gravitating toward the acoustic
sounds of old-time music. “I got interested in the music about six
years ago,” he says, “and I realized it was cool.” He now plays upright
bass with two Portland old-time bands, Foghorn Leghorn and The Dickel
Brothers. Youth and old-time music don’t go together
in every city. Kerry Blech, an old-time musician and record collector
based in Seattle, notes that the old-time crowd in Seattle is
predominantly middle-aged. Old-time musicians in
Seattle, he says, do not usually perform in public: “The scene is very
informal. People play at parties, and there aren’t as many public
venues for it as Portland.” A regular visitor to
Portland, he says, “People in their 20s are involved in the scene
there. They see old-time music as a performance thing.”
Music is the message With six gigs planned for March alone, The
Flat Mountain Girls are one of the busiest bands on the Portland
old-time circuit. Accompanying themselves on fiddle, banjo and guitar,
this trio of women in their 20s and 30s brings their foot-stompin’,
endearing act to venues such as The Kennedy School and The White Eagle.
Dressed in vintage square- dance garb and cowgirl
boots, Lisa Marsicek, Caroline Oakley and Rachel Gold yodel and
harmonize their way through upbeat folk and gospel songs. The tempo
slows down for the occasional ballad. From their
clothes to their forays into clog dancing, The Flat Mountain Girls pour
on the charm for their audience, which Gold believes deserves a bit of
showmanship with the music. “We’re here to entertain you,” she says.
In contrast to The Flat Mountain Girls, the five-man
instrumental act Foghorn Leghorn takes a bare-bones approach to
performing. Sporting nothing fancier than jeans and flannel shirts,
they appear every Sunday night at The Moon and Sixpence pub. “This is not a parlor act,” banjo player P.T. Grover Jr. says of the band’s refusal to play dress-up.
Different though their approaches may be, The Flat
Mountain Girls and Foghorn Leghorn have the same core interest at
heart: preserving musical traditions that will become obsolete if young
players don’t keep them alive. For both acts, this is a long-term
commitment, not some short-lived New Year’s resolution. “You don’t grow out of this music,” says Oakley of The Flat Mountain Girls. “You grow into it.” Contact Stephen Blair at sblair@portlandtribune.com.
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