Tag: Ralph Stanley

In Memoriam: 2016

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Every year there are great voices that leave us, but 2016 has particularly riddled with loss — especially for music fans. From the January death of David Bowie to the devastating departure of Prince to the Christmas Day news about George Michael, this was a year that didn’t let up. On the lesser-known end of the spectrum, we lost too many to mention, including Holly Dunn, Joey Feek, Long John Hunter, Steve Young, Georgette Twain Seiff, Billy Paul, Candye Kane, Red Simpson, Ruby Wilson, James King, Hoot Hester, Padraig Duggan, Fred Hellerman, and so many more.

Here, we honor some of those roots music legends who left us this year — and cherish the legacies they left behind.

Glenn Frey (November 6, 1948 – January 18, 2016)

A brilliant musician (and a generally well-liked guy, to boot), Glenn Frey wrote the soundtrack to countless windows-down road trips. Born in Detroit, Michigan, in 1968, the founding member of the Eagles played in multiple bands around the city (including a guitar cameo on an early Bob Seger track) before hightailing it to California, where he would really find his footing as a songwriter in the late 1960s. From penning the ubiquitous “Take It Easy” with Jackson Browne to collaborating with Don Henley on hits like “Lyin’ Eyes” and “Heartache Tonight,” Frey was a lynchpin in the harmony-heavy group throughout their prime in the ‘70s and had a formidable solo career during the band’s hiatus, too. Not many bands forge a strong enough bond with their listeners to completely disband for 14 years only to make a seamless comeback, but what Frey built with the Eagles managed to transcend time and genre. Frey amassed a catalog that will only continue to inspire — from impassioned tribute performances of his records to originals authored by a generation raised on them.

Merle Haggard (April 6, 1937 – April 6, 2017)

Merle Haggard was a musician who lived for the road. “It’s what keeps me alive and it’s what fucks up my life,” he told comrade Sturgill Simpson in a prescient feature published shortly before his death. But the songwriter, guitarist, fiddler, and country music pioneer left behind a lot more than his rip-roaring live performances when he passed away on his birthday earlier this year. Haggard wrote his songs about hard living and hard times, and they weren’t wholly imagined scenarios: The California native spent time behind bars in the late ‘50s, inspiring some of his most popular songs like “Mama Tried,” “Hungry Eyes,” and “Branded Man.” Haggard popularized what became known as the Bakersfield Sound — a less polished twang than the country music that generally came out of Nashville, and a sound that combined electric, rock 'n' roll elements with honky-tonk sensibilities. His rebellion against the overly polished pushed beyond the studio, too, and Haggard won many fans for his frank representation of working class Americans on matters that spanned from the Vietnam War to old-fashioned values. Haggard came up playing dive bars and fighting his way to listeners and, as the divide between pop-country and traditional country sounds grows more prominent, Haggard and his legacy are more important than ever.

Guy Clark (November 6, 1941 – May 17, 2016)

A songwriter’s songwriter, Guy Clark wasn’t just a legend; he was the storyteller that inspired an era’s worth of legends. Born in Monahans, Texas, Clark was integral in shaping Nashville’s outlaw country culture. Beyond his own illustrious career, though, Clark wrote songs for some of the genre’s top-selling and most-beloved artists over the decades, ranging from Johnny Cash, John Denver, and David Allan Coe to Vince Gill, Brad Paisley, and Kenny Chesney. And once he reached the upper echelon of Nashville’s songwriting community, he was notorious for lending a hand to the city’s next big voices, including Gillian Welch and Ashley Monroe. Fans of country music are inextricably fans of Guy Clark, whether they’re aware of his vast influence or not and, while his wit, talent, and presence will be sorely missed, his effect on the artists he left behind will soar for decades to come.

Ralph Stanley (February 25, 1927 – June 23, 2016)

For many bluegrass listeners, Ralph Stanley’s distinctive vocals and deft banjo picking epitomized the genre. He got his start performing with his brother Carter, first as the Clinch Mountain Boys and then finding fame (and a record deal) as the Stanley Brothers. Regular radio spots gave way to studio recordings and the duo performed together for almost two decades before Carter passed away in 1966. Ralph struggled with the decision to continue performing as a solo artist, reviving their old Clinch Mountain Boys moniker for his rotating collaborations. Stanley recorded with the likes of Ricky Skaggs, Curly Ray Cline, Larry Sparks, and Keith Whitley, but his career reached new heights at the turn of the millennium when he was featured on the blockbuster soundtrack for O’ Brother, Where Art Thou? This jolt in the picking pioneer’s career exposed his work to a new generation of budding bluegrass fans, ensuring that the traditions he helped to craft would remain intact through the ages.

Jean Shepard (November 21, 1933 – September 25, 2016)

To be sure, country music has a lot of pioneers, each one blazing a path followed by generation after generation, and Ollie Imogene "Jean" Shepard must surely be counted among them. A honky-tonk singer and country traditionalist who came up in the 1950s, Shepard released 73 singles and recorded 24 albums between 1956 and 1981, becoming a member of the Grand Ole Opry in 1955 and an inductee into the Country Music Hall of Fame in 2011. Shepard's first number one country hit, "A Dear John Letter," was a duet with Ferlin Husky in 1953. Not only did it also climb to number four on the Billboard pop chart, the song was the first record by a female country artist to sell more than a million copies after World War II. When Shepard joined the Opry, the only two other women on the roster were Minnie Pearl and Kitty Wells. Some 60 years later, there are more than 30 and, at the time of her death from Parkinson's disease, Shepard was the Opry's longest-running living member.

Leonard Cohen (September 21, 1934 – November 7, 2016)

Leonard Cohen was first and foremost a poet — one as deserving a Nobel Prize as that awarded to his colleague Bob Dylan earlier this year. Born in Quebec in 1934, Cohen earned his chops as a writer and novelist before launching his musical career in 1967. Over a 48-year tenure, he released 14 studio albums, tackling topics such as death, relationships, religion, and politics, and culminating in his final 2016 release, You Want It Darker. "Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash," he told us.  Thank goodness for that beautiful pile of ash he left behind.

Leon Russell (April 2, 1942 – November 13, 2016)

The word prolific gets thrown around too freely with songwriters, but with Leon Russell it's a truly appropriate descriptor. Thirty-three albums, 400-plus songs, countless collaborations, and a healthy body of production and session work over the course of his 60-year career made Russell into a pillar of American music, one who could easily hold his own with his collaborators, like George Harrison, Ike and Tina Turner, and longtime friend Elton John. If there is a single song of Russell's many that stands out as one of the greatest of the American songbook (and it's hard to choose just one), it's "A Song for You," the soulful, vulnerable lover's lament that opened his 1970 solo debut album, Leon Russell. Over 100 artists — as varied as Whitney Houston, Zakk Wylde, and Willie Nelson — would go on to cover that track. The most-beloved cover, of course, is Donny Hathaway's, recorded for his own sophomore album just one year later, quickly becoming a classic itself. The legacy of "A Song for You" is something of a microcosm of Russell's own legacy which has touched artists of all genres, all ages, all walks of life. On the surface, it's a quiet legacy — Russell isn't, after all, a household name on the level of John or Harrison. But it's a legacy that cuts through such chatter on the strength of its powerful songs — songs that, to borrow a phrase from the man himself, listen like they were written just for you. 

Sharon Jones (May 4, 1956 – November 18, 2016)

Sharon Jones’s powerful vocals, on-stage vigor, and charming warmth felt boundless — the kind of energy that would never give out. Jones was born in Augusta, Georgia, and grew up in Brooklyn, New York, and, while music was always a force in her life, her breakout success didn’t come early — she released her first full-length record at age 40. With Sharon Jones & the Dap-Kings, she released five full-length albums before the group’s sixth, Give the People What They Want, was nominated for a Grammy in 2014. Largely credited for the still-kicking revival of soul music, Jones was just as much a powerhouse off the stage. In 2013, she was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, delaying the release of Give the People What They Want as she underwent chemotherapy. Upon her triumphant return to live performances, she didn’t bother with wigs — that would get in the way of her dancing, of course — and dove right in with the same kind of energy and charisma that has always distinguished the Dap-Kings. They toured, recorded, and released a Christmas album, and brought fans into their world with a documentary. Through every obstacle — including the recurrence of the disease that would ultimately lead to her death — Jones exuded a grace and excitement that will live forever in her legacy.

Lede photo credit: victorcamilo via Foter.com / CC BY-ND.

Dwight Yoakam: The Kentucky Son’s Bluegrass Birthright

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Country music got to know Dwight Yoakam through radio stations and multi-platinum records, witnessing his distinctive style cut through the Nashville machine in a way that was nearly impossible to ignore. He debuted with 1986’s Guitars, Cadillacs, Etc., Etc., landing the first of three consecutive number one country albums and, over the course of his genre-pioneering career, Yoakam has sold more than 25 million records, charted 22 Top 20 singles in Hot Country Songs, won two Grammy Awards (and been nominated for 19 more), and landed nine platinum or multi-platinum albums.

But Yoakam’s introduction to country came up through hollers and Kentucky living rooms rather than with splashy records or big best-sellers. “Here's the thing: I was born in rural, southeast Kentucky, in Pike County. Bluegrass is in your DNA, when you're born there. It's mountain music,” he says. His earliest memory of music doesn’t involve old records or radio shows, but rather Yoakam remembers traipsing up the mountain with his grandfather on Sundays after church and listening to music made alongside ‘coon hunting. “It looked like it might have been an abandoned mining site — a coal mine site that had been left to flood back into a fairly good-sized lake. There were guys walking around with their guitars, banjos, mandolins, playing in small groups, just walking up to one another and just starting to pick. They were out there playing bluegrass face to face with one another. I had exposure to that very young in an absolutely pure way.”

Yoakam’s background in traditional bluegrass and an early affinity for the classics led him to a few starstruck moments throughout the course of his career, some of which hinted that he might be suited to embrace a bit more twang in his regular rotation. Most notably, he recalls recording with Earl Scruggs on 2001’s Earl Scruggs and Friends.

“I was there in the studio in L.A., with Earl and the band were just warming up. Earl and I were playing back and forth and I started playing a melody that came to my head. Earl started answering me on the banjo. Here I am, sitting close to the Jimi Hendrix, if you will, of bluegrass banjo, right? The godfather of modern bluegrass banjo,” he says. They’d originally sat down to record a platinum Scruggs single Yoakam frequently covered, "Down the Road.” But Louise Scruggs came into the studio when they were still fiddling around with Yoakam’s melody of the moment.

“She said, ‘I believe you need to record this.’ I said, 'Louise, it's not really a song.' She goes, ‘Well we need to record it.’ By that point, I was singing some consonants and vowels, which is what I do as a writer when I sneak up on a song. It became the song, ‘Borrowed Love.’ Louise and Earl Scruggs looked at me and said, ‘Well, you're just a bluegrass singer in disguise.’ I said, ‘Probably so.’”

For a man with bluegrass in his bloodline, it’s surprising to hear Yoakam say so emphatically that his forthcoming record, Swimmin' Pools, Movie Stars — a full-length that re-imagines many of his commercial country songs as bluegrass tunes — wasn’t really his idea. It was Kevin Welk — owner of Vanguard and Sugarhill Records and eventual executive producer on Swimmin’ Pools, Movie Stars — who approached Yoakam’s team with the concept. Label obligations and release schedules got in the way, but when the timing was finally right, the label was ready: Americana super-producer Gary Paczosa and producer/songwriter Jon Randall Stewart committed to the project and had hand-picked an all-star lineup of a band to back Yoakam, too. Award-winning players like guitarist Bryan Sutton, banjo and fiddle player Stuart Duncan, bassist Barry Bales, and banjoist Scott Vestal make a convincing lineup alone and, with Yoakam on lead, the project was bound to go somewhere special. But the producers had landed on something Yoakam hadn’t planned — to re-record his old songs with a new twist.

“Melodically, these songs were predisposed to it — that's what I think Gary and Jon thought,” says Yoakam. “And I've always pointed to that when I did interviews: There's a lot of bluegrass, melodically, in what I write."

Those traditional bluegrass sensibilities were just waiting to bubble to the surface, and they lend a new life to lesser-known singles like “Free to Go” and “Home for Sale.” Even casual fans of Yoakam will delight in more popular numbers like “These Arms” and “Guitars, Cadillacs” with their old-fashioned harmonies and quick instrumentals. Nuances in the vocals on Swimmin’ Pools, Movie Stars are a giveaway that Yoakam isn’t just dabbling in tradition: This is an album he was meant to record. Varying his inflection on old lyrics, his performance feels warm and complementary — at times even reverent — to the harmonies beside him and the deft picking in the backdrop. What gets Yoakam talking fastest about bluegrass music and the “bluegrass way” of doing things, though, isn’t one of his own songs — it’s the record’s album closer and lone cover, a rendition of Prince’s “Purple Rain.”

“We tracked 13 tracks in four days,” he says. “The third day of tracking, I went in and, that morning, when I was getting ready to leave to go to the studio, CNN had breaking news. I happened to look over at the TV and I was in the hotel in Nashville and saw the awful unfolding of the news that Prince had died so suddenly and so tragically, so alone.”

Get a bunch of musicians mourning a genius in one room, and you’re going to come away with some good listening. They worked through “Purple Rain” right there, testing it out and ultimately tracking it live before setting the recording aside.

“Just the moment — it was just the emotion from everybody in the room. I didn't touch the song again for about three weeks,” Yoakam says. “I didn't listen to it. I thought, ‘We're probably not going to put it on the record. It was nice to do.’”

Prodding soon came from Paczosa and Stewart, who had left Nashville before the final day of recording and simply saw the raw recording among the other audio files for the upcoming album. The two producers asked Yoakam if they could try listening to the track for the record. “We played it, put it on, and it was what it is, what you hear [on the record]. In fact, I left the scratch vocal on it. I did a harmony. It's exactly as we played it that day about four hours after everybody heard he died,” Yoakam says. “I think, because of that, it had an emotional expression that you couldn't have in any other moment.”

Many of the moments that foreshadowed Swimmin’ Pools, Movie Stars were similarly off-the-cuff experiments in the studio over the years. As Yoakam verbally picks apart the hours that built up to the “Purple Rain” cover that eventually made the album, it grows clearer that this album fusing his songs with the traditions and the twang that built him was more about him and his roots than he first implied.

“One of the things that probably seeded that moment in my mind was Ralph Stanley,” Yoakam notes. “He cut one of my songs, 'Miner's Prayer,' and I recorded one of his songs, 'Down Where the River Bends.' I had always been a fan of the Stanley Brothers. We cut it, as he would say, ‘in the mountain way,’ with Curly Rae Kline on fiddle. It was done around the microphone with a live band in a circle, playing those songs. They looked at me and said, ‘Dwight, I believe you might be a bluegrass singer.’ I said, ‘Well I guess it's somewhere in my birthright.’”

 

For more Artist of the Month coverage, read Dacey's profile of bluegrass phenom Sierra Hull.

Lede illustration by Cat Ferraz.

3×3: Nathan Bell on Being the Silver Surfer, a Reluctant Gypsy, and a Major League Baseball Mascot

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Artist: Nathan Bell
Hometown: Signal Mountain, TN
Latest Album: I Don't Do This tor Love, I Do This For Love (Working and Hanging On in America)
Personal Nicknames: I’ve never had a nickname and it’s uncool to give yourself one (just ask Kobe Bryant), but if I could have one, I’d like it to be “Wolverine.”

 

Bikes and shit

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Your house is burning down and you can grab only one thing — what would you save?
I have a signed copy of a book of short stories by Rick Bass that my wife gave me when we were first together, so I’d take that. And my wife, of course. And our kids. And three dogs. 

If you weren't a musician, what would you be?
A Major League Baseball mascot.

If a song started playing every time you entered the room, what would you want it to be? 
“Atomic Dog” by George Clinton. Or, if I’m in a thoughtful mood, “It Never Entered My Mind” by Miles Davis. If somebody just died, Ralph Stanley singing “Rank Stranger.” Maybe always “Rank Stranger.”

 

Mossman one and Mossman two, pre shoulder surgery stalwarts

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What is the one thing you can’t survive without on tour? 
The default answer is my guitar. But if you are allowing the guitar to exist separate of this question, my return ticket home. I’m a reluctant gypsy. I love to play solo live shows, but I’m a family man, and when they aren’t around, I need to know I’ll be going home eventually.

If you were a car, what car would you be? 
A battered 1997 Ford F-150, with 4×4 and an 8-Cylinder engine. I’m not so fast anymore, but I get stuff done. I don’t need any girls dancing in the bed, which is full of junk as we speak.

Who is your favorite superhero?
Silver Surfer — because he’s a complete fucking loner.

 

Acoustic Magazine has been kind enough to print some of my work. The newest issue is out. @acousticguitarmag

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Vinyl or digital? 
Stone tablet. That way I could have liner notes and the proof that somebody worked hard to create something. But I love recording digital. Good microphones are all you really need.

Dylan or Townes?
Terry Allen. The greatest songwriter/sculptor to walk the earth. He’s unbought and unbowed, just doing his thing, perfectly.

Summer or winter?
Winter. Although, just to be contrary, I prefer Fall. Things dying, things sleeping, everything waiting to start over. The season that looks the least hopeful, like me, but, also like me, is optimistic that life goes on.

Photo Credit: Richard Duby

Bluegrass Cocktails: Nine-Pound Hammer

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With a commanding name like Nine-Pound Hammer, you might expect a stiff drink … so why something light and somewhat sweet? This tune is one in the tradition of hammer songs, which lament the struggles and grueling labors of railroad workers. In that case, a cooling cocktail seems even more necessary — the combination of Drambuie and pineapple lends the drink a delicate candied quality, and the yellow Chartreuse brings in a distinct herbal element, all for a libation that’s refreshing and easy-drinking. Add in those few dashes of absinthe, and this one is a real doozy — which anyone could use after a hard day's work.

INGREDIENTS
1 oz aged rum
3/4 oz Drambuie
1/2 oz yellow Chartreuse
1 oz pineapple juice
3/4 oz lemon juice
2 dashes absinthe
Seltzer water
Orange and brandied cherry for garnish (optional)

DIRECTIONS
Add all ingredients (except seltzer) to shaker with ice and shake vigorously until cold. Strain into a collins or high-ball glass with ice and top with seltzer water. Garnish with orange slice and brandied cherry.

Reading List: 5 of the Best Bluegrass Biographies

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We've offered you plenty of options for learning about the history of bluegrass masters via streaming, but what about good old-fashioned books? For those of you who like your learning a bit more in-depth and enjoy the heft of a good book (or, we hate to say, the sleek screen of a Kindle) in your hands, we've rounded up a handful of the best bluegrass biographies (and autobiographies) out there. 

Can't You Hear Me Callin': The Life of Bill Monroe, Father of Bluegrass, by Richard Smith

Few musicians have had more influence on bluegrass than Bill Monroe, and this biography seeks to explain that influence — one that, truth be told, no book could sum up — in 352 pages of extensive interviews, thoroughly researched musical history, and rare glimpses into Monroe's personal life. There's no better lens through which to understand bluegrass than the career of Bill Monroe, and this book is as close as you can get to the man himself.

Man of Constant Sorrow: My Life and Times, by Dr. Ralph Stanley

There's nothing quite like hearing it from the man himself, and there's no man we'd want to hear "it" from more than Dr. Ralph Stanley. In this 2010 autobiography, the banjo pioneer reflects on his monumentally influential career, from his early days learning his craft in Virginia to his time touring well into his '80s. This is a must-read for any bluegrass fan.

Satan Is Real: The Ballad of the Louvin Brothers, by Charlie Louvin and Benjamin Whitmer

Two of the godfathers of country harmony, Ira and Charlie Louvin traded their gospel roots for country music around the time the genre was picking up unstoppable speed in the mainstream. Devout Baptists with a handful of sinful habits (particularly in Ira's case), the brothers were a "real life Cain and Abel," as is described in this Charlie-penned autobiography. This one should appeal to fans of music and William Faulkner alike.

I Hear a Voice Calling: A Bluegrass Memoir, by Gene Lowinger

You may not know the name Gene Lowinger (or, hey, maybe you know enough about the genre that you should write your own book), but the New Jersey born fiddler was around for Bill Monroe's final years, and he documented the father of bluegrass in a series of intimate photographs that show the legendary musician both on and off stage. Lowinger also shares tales of brushes with other bluegrass greats, including the New York Ramblers and the Greenbriar Boys.

Smart Blonde: Dolly Parton, by Stephen Miller

Dolly Parton may not be a bluegrasser in the traditional sense, but her rags-to-riches tale of growing up in the mountains of east Tennessee to become one of the biggest country stars on the planet falls in line with the career trajectories of many of our grassier favorites. And while there are countless books on Parton available, this one, which will receive an updated reprint in May of this year, is often considered the definitive source.

Lede photo credit: azrasta via Foter.com / CC BY-NC-SA

Hey Nashville, Get Off Your Ass and Go See Some Live Music in September

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Summer's winding down. Kids are back in school. And AmericanaFest is coming right up. Get Off Your Ass, America.

September 2, 3, 24 // Rosanne Cash // Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum
Rosanne Cash is doing a residency at the Hall of Fame. Three nights, three completely different performances. See you there!

September 4 // Los Colognes // The Basement East
Want to know where the cool kids will be tonight? At the BEast with Los Colognes.

September 10 // Farewell Drifters // Station Inn
The Farewell Drifters have a few shows on the books, including one last month with Julie Lee. Catch them while you can.

September 12 // Ralph Stanley & the Clinch Mountain Boys // Centennial Park
We'll just leave this right here. 

September 12 // Jimmy Webb, Bobby Whitlock // City Winery
How do you celebrate seeing Ralph Stanley? By seeing Jimmy Webb, for Pete's sake. Oh, and Bobby Whitlock, too. 

September 14 // Kevin Gordon // City Winery
If you like tales of Southern living done up with the just-right balance of grit and grace, check out Kevin Gordon.

September 15-20 // Americana Fest // All Over Town
Sam Outlaw, Nathaniel Rateliff, Ryan Culwell, Lee Ann Womack, Lera Lynn, HoneyHoney, Whitey Morgan, Patty Griffin, JD McPherson, and a whole bunch of other great artists will be playing shows all over town. Get you some.

September 22 // Indigo Girls // Ryman Auditorium
It's the Indigo Girls. How can you not go see the Indigo Girls?!

September 22 // BB King Birthday Tribute // City Winery
It must be nice to have your birthday celebrated by Claudette King, Gary Nicholson, Mike Farris, T. Graham Brown, Stacy Mitchhart, Derek St. Holmes, Crystal Shawanda, and more, right BB?

September 30 // George Ezra // Ryman Auditorium
This George Ezra kid … he's got something. His record and his live show are both thoroughly charming. You should maybe go.

September 30 // Cory Chisel Celebrates City Winery's One-Year Anniversary // City Winery
And yet another birthday party happening at City Winery … their own!

A Legend Past His Prime: Reflections on Aging Artists and Seeing Ralph Stanley Live

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In September 2010, I was supposed to see banjo pioneer Earl Scruggs perform at UNC-Chapel Hill with the Red Clay Ramblers. I had a ticket, but something came up and at the last minute I couldn’t go. Scruggs couldn’t perform anyway due to illness. The show went on without him, and his performance was never rescheduled. He passed away on March 28, 2012, and I never got another opportunity to see him.

Back in May, as I left work one night, I reminded myself to buy a ticket to see Doc Watson at the North Carolina Museum of Art (scheduled for June 30th) with my next paycheck. A few nights later, I got off work to find a text informing me of the guitarist’s death. Watson passed on the 29th, three days before that paycheck came.

So it was natural that, when I heard that the legendary Dr. Ralph Stanley was supposed to play at a small venue called the ArtsCenter just down the road from my house in Carrboro, I jumped at the opportunity to be there. Fortunately, there were no illnesses or falls to get in the way, and the show went on as planned. I had expected to be awestruck and delighted, but left feeling more guilty and heartbroken instead.

Don’t get me wrong — I felt honored to be in the presence of one of the last living pioneers of bluegrass. Chills ran down my spine when he sang  “O Death,” and my heart swelled during “Will The Circle Be Unbroken” and “Angel Band.” But the same time, all I could think was “You’re having a good time, but is he?”

Though the 86-year-old Stanley seemed genuinely humbled by the audience’s turn-out and enthusiasm, he didn’t seem entirely “there” for much of the performance. Arthritis prevented him from playing the banjo for all but a few songs. When he sang, it was mostly back-up; even then, he had to be constantly reminded of what song the band was playing. He forgot many of the words of “Amazing Grace.” And on a few songs, his grandson, Nathan Stanley, had to shout lyrics to him as the song was going on.

For the songs Stanley didn’t sing on, he stood quietly with his hands clasped in front of him while the band played and Nathan sang. The audience chuckled at his forgetfulness and the couple of times he sassed Nathan. The younger Stanley is himself a talented performer, with a voice that sounded much more mature than his age might reflect. But it wasn’t quite as fulfilling as hearing Ralph’s legendary timbre.

It was less of a show in the performing sense, and more of a experience that was telling me “aren’t you glad you get to be in the presence of Ralph Stanley?’  that is to say, the whole thing felt more than a little forced. Yes, I was glad. But it’s one thing to see someone who’s glad to be “there” in every sense of the word — physically, mentally, emotionally. It’s something completely different to see someone who’s standing on a stage for two 45-minute sets, mostly doing nothing.

None of this is to say that performers must be put out to greener pastures once they hit certain ages. I’m all for musicians creating and performing long as they can. But maybe sometimes they can’t, or even don’t want to anymore. And when that’s the case, shouldn’t we respect that? Even if that means I miss seeing another genre giant, I think — I hope — it means the image of their enormous talent lives on in our collective memory a little bit longer.