Remembering Bobby Osborne on Toy Heart

On a special edition of Toy Heart, we remember Bluegrass Music Hall of Famer, Grand Ole Opry member, seven-time Grammy Award nominee, CMA Award winner, and roots music legend Bobby Osborne.

“This is what I started with when I was 15 years old,” Osborne says as the episode begins. “Ain’t never quit, ain’t going to now… If He calls me home, I’ll give it up quick.”

He succeeded– he never quit. When Osborne died on June 27 at the age of 91, he still had future shows and appearances on his calendar. He had performed on the Opry as recently as May 19 of this year with the Rocky Top X-press, the band he formed when his older brother and bandmate, iconic banjo player Sonny Osborne, retired from their duo – and from touring and performing – in the early 2000s.

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Toy Heart host Tom Power (CBC Radio’s Q) visited with Osborne at his home in Gallatin, Tennessee in the summer of 2022, a handful of months after Sonny’s passing. The conversation that resulted covers Bobby’s experiences within the earliest days of bluegrass (like having performed with the Stanley Brothers and Jimmy Martin), the conception and popularity of the Osborne Brothers’ signature harmony style (and how Bobby’s voice changed higher rather than lower), and his service in the U.S. Marine Corps and the harrowing experience that resulted in his earning a Purple Heart in Korea. They discuss Bobby’s broad impact and influence – even Bob Dylan was a fan – and iconic Osborne Brothers songs like “Ruby,” “Roll Muddy River,” and yes, “Rocky Top,” too.

Upon the loss of such a gigantic figure in this music we are so grateful for the time we got to spend with Bobby Osborne and for how accessible he made himself to all of us in bluegrass. His enormous legacy will live on, well into the future, and we’ll never forget the music, stories, and laughs he so readily shared with all of us, especially in this Toy Heart episode, one of Bobby’s last long-form interviews.


Editor’s note: Toy Heart will be returning in the fall of 2023 for its second season. Stay tuned.

PHOTOS: Remembering Bluegrass Hall of Famer Bobby Osborne

The bluegrass community is collectively grieving two major losses as both Jesse McReynolds and Bobby Osborne – two revered and iconic Bluegrass Hall of Fame-inducted mandolinists and Grand Ole Opry members who helmed first-generation bluegrass bands with their brothers – have passed on. McReynolds, who was 94, died on Friday, June 23 at his home in Nashville with his wife, Joy, at his side; Osborne’s death was announced on social media early Tuesday, June 27 – he was 91. Both pickers were two of the sole survivors of bluegrass’s first generation. They leave enormous musical legacies that will live on, surely into infinity.

In 2017, the Bluegrass Situation team had the incredible honor of inviting Bobby Osborne to join our super jam at the world-famous Bonnaroo music festival in Manchester, Tennessee. To our delight, he said yes.

BGS co-founder Ed Helms and Bobby Osborne

Over more than ten years of creating and holding space for roots music in our industry, there are so many moments of which we are so proud. But one of the most memorable and meaningful BGS achievements from the past decade was hearing 20,000+ audience members and fans, packed into That Tent, roar unfathomably loud for the iconoclastic voice that made a hit of “Rocky Top” – and so many others.

That day, Bobby seemed to bask in the limelight. He was kind, down-to-earth, approachable, and seemed genuinely tickled at the fanfare and excitement that orbited him and his sharp, technicolor suit and sparkly hat. After a storied career that landed him and his brother, Sonny, in so many widely variable musical contexts, from the obscure to the mainstream, Bobby was perfectly at home at Bonnaroo. His audience knew it, and they ate it up. We all did.

Bobby Osborne with Casey Campbell (background) and Mike Barnett (foreground)

In light of his passing, the entire BGS team is holding gratitude for his kindness, generosity, and, most of all, for his music. Rest in peace to one of the most important and impactful first generation bluegrass music makers, Bobby Osborne.

We hope you’ll enjoy these back stage and performance photos, shot by Elli Lauren Photography, from Bonnaroo 2017 and the BGS Super Jam at That Tent.

Bobby Osborne, Paul Hoffman, Ed Helms, and members of Greensky Bluegrass and Bryan Sutton’s house band.

 

Lillie Mae and Bobby Osborne share a laugh on stage prior to their duet.

 

Bobby Osborne
Ed Helms, Casey Campbell, Bobby Osborne, and others

 

Bobby Osborne and Casey Campbell (background)

 

Bobby Osborne closes his 2017 Bonnaroo appearance with a bow and a tip of his hat.

 


All photos: Elli Lauren Photography for BGS

Bluegrass Memoirs: ‘Industrial Strength Bluegrass’ and the Dayton Bluegrass Reunion (Part 2)

Editor’s note: Read part one of Industrial Strength Bluegrass and the Dayton Bluegrass Reunion here

In 1987 I became involved with CityFolk’s Dayton Bluegrass Reunion, “An All-Star Salute to Dayton’s 40 Year Bluegrass History.” Between October 1987 and March 1989, I worked by mail and telephone to help shape the Reunion, planned for April 1989. 

While this was to be called a “concert,” executive producer Phyllis Brzozowska envisioned it from the start as musical theater. I liked her idea — I’d long thought of bluegrass that way. My experience on the stage started at age 12, in a little theater company production of Our Town, Thornton Wilder’s 1938 Pulitzer Prize-winning play about a small community in the early 20th century. Wikipedia describes the play this way:

“Wilder uses metatheatrical devices, setting the play in the actual theatre where it is being performed. The main character is the stage manager of the theatre who directly addresses the audience.”

In Dayton, playwright Don Baker would have a role like that of the stage manager in Our Town, acting the part of a loquacious emcee, telling the story of the Dayton bluegrass community. He would work from a script that Larry Nager was writing. As he spoke, a screen behind him would show slides relating to the narrative’s cultural and historical points.

The concert was divided into seven acts, “Segment/Settings” of 12 to 15 minutes. Each featured a different group of musicians and had room for three to five songs and an encore. Don’s narrations opened each act. Planning reflected concerns about the content and sequence of the acts. How was forty years of artistic ferment to be represented? 

When I spoke of the project to my bluegrass buddies, the first question was always “Will the Osborne Brothers reunite with Red Allen?” This 1957 show gives a good portrait of the band’s sound and repertoire — cutting-edge bluegrass of its era:

As the bluegrass festival movement ramped up in the ’70s, Allen and the Osbornes occasionally crossed paths. The Osbornes were doing well on the country charts with songs like “Rocky Top” that featured Bobby’s solo and trio high lead:

Allen, considered one of the classic bluegrass lead singers, had gone on to work in several good bands. He still approached audiences as he had in Dayton bars. Larry Nager explains: “Red loved the spotlight, making the crowds laugh (often at jokes more fitting for a stag party than a bluegrass club)” (Industrial Strength Bluegrass p.89). An on-stage festival reunion with the Osbornes had been tried, didn’t work out, and was now out of the question. 

Who else would be in the concert? At the start planners thought in terms of contrasts in categories like venues (working-class bars; upscale nightspots, colleges), audiences (industrial working-class Appalachian migrants, yuppies, college kids), and radio (country, folk).

As we’ll see later, these categories overlapped; that’s what gave the region’s bluegrass such vibrancy. Beyond categories lay personal dimensions: certain bands and musicians were like oil and water. The production committee faced artists’ and fans’ differing perspectives, values, and priorities. Terms bandied about during production meetings included “First Generation, Second Generation, Urban” and so on. 

Another planning challenge: the concert featured some working bands, each on their own professional trajectory. But as a reunion it also featured retired individuals and groups. 

The final concert performance sequence reflected our work to keep tension levels low, make things flow, and illustrate the artistic collaborations that had come out of this cultural scene. 

My primary task was writing the introduction for the program, seeking to explain why CityFolk was presenting hillbilly music as heritage.

I was assisted by Barb Kuhns and Larry Nager, who were writing artist bios and gathering illustrations for the program. Musician and producer Nager knew the history from the inside, as his chapter, “Sing Me Back Home: Early Bluegrass Venues in Southwestern Ohio” in Industrial Strength Bluegrass (pp. 77-100) attests. Kuhns, professional librarian and fiddler with the Corndrinkers, an old-time group, had been active in promoting the music of some of the lesser-known pioneers in the local scene of which she’d been part for many years. 

With just over a month to go until the show in April, I spent a March weekend in Dayton helping the planning production staff finalize concert details.

In early April CityFolk sent news to the press of the coming event. “Dayton show will reflect Kentucky bluegrass roots” was the title of a 12-paragraph story in Sunday’s Louisville Courier-Journal, Kentucky’s equivalent of the New York Times. On Wednesday, the Dayton Downtowner, a weekly, carried two stories, and on Friday the Dayton Daily News (a supporter of the event) ran two generous stories.

On Friday night April 22, 1989, each of the concert goers who filled Memorial Hall a Beaux-art national historic site (1907) of 2500 seats in downtown Dayton — received a 16-page 8 ½ x 11 program. Its cover duplicated the concert’s posters.

On the first page was Phyllis Brzozowka’s introduction. Next, an essay by former Dayton newspaperman Tom Teepen, who told the evocative story of his experiences with the music in Dayton. 

My piece, “Industrial Strength Bluegrass,” filled the next four pages. Then came seven photo-packed pages devoted to “The Artists”: Paul “Moon” Mullins and Traditional Grass, Noah Crase and the Valley Ramblers, The Hotmud Family, The Allen Brothers, Red Allen, The Dry Branch Fire Squad, Larry Sparks and Wendy Miller, Frank Wakefield, David Harvey, and the Osborne Brothers. 

The booklet closed with several pages of lists: a “Selected Discography” including addresses for local and national retailers; planning production staff; thanks for assistance; CityFolk staff; board of trustees. Its endpapers were a map of southern Ohio, with portions of Indiana, Kentucky, and West Virginia. A lot to look at while waiting for the curtain to rise!

Behind the curtain, Baker’s Lime Kiln workers provided lighting and a stage manager. I was part of the backstage crew. And the sound was something else! Afterwards Phyllis wrote:

Pete Reineger, from the National Council for the Traditional Arts and a local crew…ran an equivalent of 4 stages with 36 open microphones throughout the performance.

I have been unable to locate any recordings of this event — no tape, no video. I saved a copy of Baker’s stage directions, which lay out the concert’s sequence. But Larry Nager’s script for his narrative, which told the history of Dayton bluegrass in seven segments, one for each act, no longer exists. In it, he recalled, Don’s role was that of “the omniscient voice of the hillbilly diaspora.” 

Though the Dayton Bluegrass Reunion is now a lost play, its structure can be seen from Baker’s stage directions. However, because I was busy bustling around backstage, I didn’t know how the concert was going over with the audience until later. 

The reunion began with an introduction by Phyllis, following that came sounds from offstage, described in the stage directions as:

Halsey & Meyers Commercial 

Radio Rap — Moon Mullins.

Halsey Myers is still a going concern. Joe Mullins says that the Traditional Grass, the band he worked in with his father Moon from 1983 to 1995, recorded a radio commercial for this Middletown hardware store. It was so popular they got requests for it at personal appearances. Joe and his son Daniel found an old cassette recording of the ad followed by an example of Moon’s colorful on-air WPFB persona:

These radio clips would have been familiar to many in the audience who knew the local bluegrass scene. Paul “Moon” Mullins was the true loquacious voice of Appalachian migrant music — bluegrass — in southwest Ohio. 

As the curtains opened Baker took the stage to tell the story of Mullins and the music. Photos synced to the script appeared on a screen behind him. Some were of Dayton musicians and venues, while others evoked a variety of historical and geographical milieus ranging from Dayton to national and international.

Baker’s light dimmed and focus shifted to the other side of the stage, where Mullins and his band, The Traditional Grass, were highlighted. Mullins had come to Dayton from Kentucky in 1964 to take a job as a DJ at WPFB, a Middletown country station that had been a bluegrass center in the 40s and 50s. Jimmy Martin, the Osborne Brothers and many others had performed there. The short-lived Martin-Osborne band’s hit trio “20/20 Vision” from those days is recreated by Dan Tyminski on the new Smithsonian Folkways album, Industrial Strength Bluegrass

In the mid-’60s WPFB had dropped bluegrass but Mullins brought it back. He’d started his radio and musical careers (he’d fiddled with the Stanley Brothers) in eastern Kentucky. Migrant audiences in southwestern Ohio bonded with him. He revitalized the music at WPFB and began playing with local bands. 

I first saw his name in June 1968 when we were both on the flyer for Bill Monroe’s Blue Grass Festival at Bean Blossom, Indiana. I was in the banjo workshop (with Ralph Stanley, Dave Garrett, Bobby Thompson, Vic Jordan, and Larry Sparks); “Paul Mullins, WPFB Radio, Middletown, Ohio” was emcee for the Saturday shows, co-hosting on Sunday with Grant Turner of the Grand Ole Opry.

Twenty-one years later, on the evening of the Reunion, Mullins had recently left WPFB. He’d started The Traditional Grass in 1983 (they would continue until 1995); it included his son Joe, who was singing tenor, picking banjo, and following his dad’s footsteps in radio. Guitarist Mark Rader was the lead singer, and Glenn “Cookie” Inman, bassist. They opened with “Weary Lonesome Blues,” a popular Delmore Brothers song from 1937:

After three more songs, everyone except Moon left the stage and he was joined by members of The Valley Ramblers, a band he’d co-founded with Noah Crase in the late ’60s. Crase was a highly respected banjo player, a former Blue Grass Boy best-known for “Noah’s Breakdown,” the tune that started Bill Keith on his exploration of melodic banjo. 

Editor’s note: Read part one of Industrial Strength Bluegrass and the Dayton Bluegrass Reunion here


Neil V. Rosenberg would like to thank Barb Kuhns, Daniel and Joe Mullins, and Larry Nager

Rosenberg is an author, scholar, historian, banjo player, Bluegrass Music Hall of Fame inductee, and co-chair of the IBMA Foundation’s Arnold Shultz Fund.

Photo of Rosenberg: Terri Thomson Rosenberg

10 Bluegrass Songs Ready for Retirement

Let’s blow up some balloons, get everyone’s signatures on the card, buy a Costco sheet cake, and send each of these bluegrass songs into their golden years with a loving swat on the rear. Buy that motorhome! See the country! Spend more time with your family!

10. “Man of Constant Sorrow”

Why is this bluegrass staple ready to be put out to pasture? Because, right now, you’re imagining George Clooney with Dan Tyminski’s voice.

9. “Ashokan Farewell”

Fiddle contests, weddings, funerals, jams destined to be busted … this interminable waltz has been everywhere! Except retired. It’s often touted as an old Civil War tune, but the truth is, it was made popular by a 1990s PBS miniseries, then promptly played into oblivion.

8. “Big Spike Hammer”

If you know what “mash” is, you know why this one made the list. Also, it doesn’t really mean what it once did now that Della Mae has appropriated the lyric. RETIRE IT.

7. “Raining in L.A.”

This one will live on forever, reverberating off the walls of IBMA and SPBGMA’s host hotels. It no longer needs us to sustain it. “Raining in L.A.” doesn’t make me wanna stay, I’ll tell you what.

6. “Blue Moon of Kentucky”

For all of the thousands of times it’s been performed and the hundreds of times it’s been covered, somehow collectively we still can’t remember when it goes into 4/4 time and how the split breaks are divvied up. And if there’s a single Kentuckian in the audience, they’re going to request it. Let’s cut our losses on this one.

5. “Rawhide”

We already have “Back Up and Push.” Bluegrass only needs one tune in C without a distinguishable melody, right?

4. “Little Maggie”

There comes a point in the lifespan of a popular song where it’s more often butchered than homaged. Therefore, “Little Maggie” privileges have been unilaterally revoked. Listen to this recording and think about what you’ve done.

3. “Dueling Banjos”

“Where two or three are gathered …” with banjos out of the cases, there some dumbass requesting “Dueling Banjos” will also be. Can we retire the “Paddle faster, I hear banjo music!” t-shirts with this one, too?

2. “Wagon Wheel”

If your knee-jerk reaction to this song appearing on this list is “That ain’t bluegrass!” let’s quibble over that detail after we’ve relegated this torturous, Frankenstein-esque, pseudo-grass, I-just-bought-a-banjo-at-a-flea-market earworm to that pearly Johnson City, Tennessee, in the sky.

1. “Rocky Top”

On the 50-year anniversary of the Osborne Brothers’ release of “Rocky Top,” it seems fitting that we should take this stalwart of a song out of the greater bluegrass repertoire and put it in a safe place, where it can no longer be abused, taken for granted, or interrupted with loud shouts of “WOOOO!” If you anticipate going into “Rocky Top” withdrawals, just head down to the Grand Ole Opry. You can still hear Bobby Osborne & the Rocky Top X-press perform it — and they are the only ones today really doing the song justice. And at tempos not every 85-year-old could sustain.