It's been quite a while since I posted a piece. Fortunately, this is due to the amount of work that's been piling up as a glimmer of hope seems to shine underneath all the doom and gloom that has been casting such an atramentous shadow over our world.
And with all this work flowing into the firm these days, we decided it was about time to upgrade the computers which translated into long migrations, purchasing of new software and a lot of curse words.
While transferring files last week, I began the tedious effort of moving all of my music. A collection that has been underway since my twenties when CDs were invented. A product that made the purists cringe but gave way to the now digital age of music. Music transferred and listened to with the ease of a button.
If you are around my age, you have witnessed the greatest evolution in music that has ever taken place in our history. I don't think we as a society fully appreciate just how far it's come as we get so wrapped up within our own world, we lose site with where we were and how far we have taken this technology.
I can remember a night dad and I were watching television and a K-Tel advertisement came on promoting a new album. Rock Power featuring Stepping Wolf, Dr. John, Aretha Franklin, Gladys Knight and the Pips, and various other artists. It was indeed a power house of rock so we had to order it. I must have been around seven or eight years old and the anticipation of that thing coming in the mail was more than I could bare. We had both been punished with mom's albums of the Carpenters so anything aside from that or B.J. Thomas's Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head would be a welcome rebellious volume cranker.
High school would follow with cassette tapes. Now you could fast forward to your favorite song if you had the right kind of stereo in your car. A simple mechanism that would read the breaks between songs and stop before each number. No more clunky eight track players that were a crap shoot just finding what you wanted to hear.
I was in my college sophomore year when the CD came out. We couldn't buy them fast enough and the music companies couldn't remaster originals to keep up with demand. There was enormous paranoia with owning a CD player as we had all heard that the laser could blind you if the lid wasn't shut. A bunch of eighties kids being pushed into the future amazed at the shiny disks that held so much music. It was truly an amazing time for all of us who loved music.
And then it all went to hell in a hand basket with the computer, the internet and free music downloads.
As I transferred thousands of songs that have bounced from one computer to the next, I began to wonder where all the fun went. Where was that time when dad and I sat on the couch and ordered the soundtrack that would drive us down the road in his green Pontiac with the windows rolled down and seat belts buried out of sight without a care in the world. In fact, I was having trouble remembering the last time I actually bought a new album. I asked my wife if she had purchased a song or album recently and she couldn't remember either. This of course aroused my curiosity and the sociology bug began to bite raising the question if there were other folks like us.
Turns out…there are. And it's slowly killing the music industry.
According to a CNN article, total revenue from U.S. music sales and licensing plunged to $6.3 billion in 2009, according to Forrester Research. In 1999, that revenue figure topped $14.6 billion.
That's a big decline and those dollars represent a lot of hands within the world of music. Artists, musicians, producers, engineers, distributors and of course when was the last time you saw a record store? The article goes on to say it's due to the economy or free downloads but I think they are missing the mark. I think what's killing the music industry is the simple convenience of the internet itself. And you can define that as free downloads if you want but the fact is even as I type this blog, I'm listening to a station that I created myself that fits around my own tastes. A playlist that's tailored to fit around what I enjoy so why in the world would I want to buy anything? What's the point of that?
This is such a change from the old regular radio stations that either stuck to a commercial playlist or certain style of music that surrounds a target market. Not to mention the ownership of music with huge record albums that needed to be felt cleaned and dust tree, the eight track tapes that all had wrinkled labels due to a bleaching sun or a cassette tape that was recently eaten by an Alpine stereo that you picked out for the Trans-Am.
And finally the CD that became so scratched it released a sort of du du du du du du du du du sound which you kept trying to clean with rubbing alcohol.
Is it good change? I can tell you the change doesn't sit well with the music industry but as a listener of music, I love what I'm able to do with the ease of a button. However, as a lover of music I miss the anticipation surrounding the release of a new album or song by one of my favorite artists. I miss times like the ones spent with my father ordering a K-Tel eight track tape loaded with legends of rock and roll.
I miss the Anticipation...
We can never know about the days to come
But we think about them anyway,
And I wonder if I'm really with you now
Or just chasin' after some finer day
Anticipation, anticipation
Is makin' me late
Is keepin' me waitin'
–Carly Simon
The resonator guitar, or Dobro as many musicians call it, might be the most haunting of all musical sounds. An eerie hollow twang that when played with a slide can easily lean on the blues or bluegrass.
Jerry Douglas from Warren, Ohio may be the most accomplished resonator guitar man who ever lived. Dubbed "Dobro's matchless contemporary master," by the New York Times, Jerry has been playing since the the age of eight, after his father—a steelworker who played bluegrass in his spare time—brought him to a Flatt and Scruggs concert, where he was entranced by the sound of Dobro player Josh Graves. After playing with his dad's group the West Virginia Travelers for several years, a 17-year-old Douglas joined the pioneering progressive-bluegrass band the Country Gentlemen in 1973. Two years later, he became a member of the seminal J.D. Crowe and the New South, which also included future solo stars Ricky Skaggs and Tony Rice.
The resonator guitar came about through a series of events which happened within the National String Instrument Company, which was formed in 1925 and co-owned by a Slovak immigrant family, the Dopyeras, along with several other investors.
The Dopyera brothers, of whom there were five—John, Robert, Rudolph (Rudy), Louis, and Emil (Ed)—were heavily involved in the National Company, both as inventors and
investors. Because of internal frictions with other parties within the company, John and his younger brother Rudy divested all their interest in National—including patents which they held for National instruments—and left the company in 1928. They had been working for some time outside the company on a new-style resonator assembly, which they were quick to patent upon their departure from National. The result of this new invention is the resonator guitar as we know it today.
The resonator is primarily played within two styles of music, blues and bluegrass. Both of which use a slide to create the sounds that are so haunting.
Bluegrass slide is played on top much like a steel guitar. The strings are raised to accommodate the weight of a heavier slide while the blues guitar is played much like a regular guitar with open tuning. I'm sure this all sounds musically technical so the best way to show you the music is to let you listen to it.
The first video is that of Jerry Douglas. I featured him in the third video as well due to his new album, Traveler, just being released which features Eric Clapton, Marc Cohn, Alison Krauss and Union Station, Keb Mo, Mumford & Sons and Paul Simon. The video features Mumford & Sons with their new release of The Boxer.
The second video is of my favorite blues man himself, Lucky Peterson. It's a grinding slide that will make you pull from a whisky bottle if you're not careful.
And I'm never careful so enjoy the music!
Telling this story has been an internal struggle for the last couple of months. I suppose the reason being is it's not my story and it was told to me in confidence so many years ago. However, due to the world today and what I see as a society of folks that have either misplaced or lost God all together, I thought it most appropriate.
Generally what I see in most instances are folks with a real lack of understanding and knowing. Given how fast everything is within this digital world we have all become so accustomed to, there is very little time spent just being still. And to know as well as understand God, you have to be still. Not to mention quiet.
With this in mind and given I have decided to let loose this story, some preliminary color for background is in order.
When I was little, probably around twelve or so, we lived with my grandmother. My mother, father and younger sister all lived in the same house my father was raised in along with my grandmother who lived on the other side of the house within her own quarters.
Attending Saint Luke's Methodist Church every Sunday, my grandmother met a man by the name of Lon T. Little. They fell in love and she decided to marry at what most would consider to be a very late age in life. I had never had a living grandfather before so I was excited with this prospect.
Lon, by all accounts, was a simple man and to appreciate this story you must understand this. He was kind, generous and one of the most loving people I have ever known. There was absolutely no presence of selfishness and if I had to label the man, he was truly a saint. And if you knew my grandmother, one would have to be just to live with her. I loved my grandmother but I can tell you it was all black and white. You colored outside her lines and all hell would break loose.
Lon and I became extremely close which I always thought was unusual given we weren't related nor did I have anything in common with the man. As mentioned, he was simple and could be quite child like at times. For instance, he was a Family Circle cartoon guy and I was more of a Far Side cartoon guy if that helps give some perspective.
Most of the time spent with Lon was under his direction in the yard. I helped build fences, shape his shrubs, plant flowers and tend to his garden. Later in my teens, I had become old enough to drive which meant lots of odd jobs under his strict direction.
I don't know why he shared this particular story with me. Possibly because he was getting older and felt that he needed to give it to someone. I've always kept the story to myself as I just never have felt like telling it. Not to mention it started out with and I quote, "You won't believe this but..." so you can just imagine what he was feeling when he let it loose.
So without further ado, here we go...
Lon was born and raised in the hills of Arkansas. He came from a very modest farming background raising everything that would wind up on the family's kitchen table. Other items grown or made were taken into town and sold for money which would pay for coffee beans, dry goods, materials, tools, clothes, shoes, etc...
If you were to classify his family at that time, I suppose you could say that he came from very poor conditions. I never got that from him though as to me, he was just a hard worker and always appreciative of what he had. He literally had two speeds which were work and rest which made for some interesting work experiences for me. He wasn't much on breaks or sitting around.
During harvest time in October of 1929, the world came to an end. Or at least America thought it did as the Great Depression swept a hand of poverty across our nation stripping money away from just about everyone. Our country became lost and drowning in hopelessness losing all direction and faith within our own economy as well as the elected leadership. Let me know if all of this sounds familiar but I always say there's no comparison when in a downed economy you still see people with Starbucks coffee.
With no where to turn for money, panic soon struck a young Lon Little and he became extremely concerned with the future of his family. As the thirties rolled around, nothing was getting any better. They could still farm but no one could afford to buy anything and without money, there were too many holes to fill when it came to running a farm.
Lost and afraid, Lon stumbled into his own barn and dropped to his knees. Trembling in fear, he quietly asked God what was to become of his family. This question was answered by what Lon described to me as a light. It began outside of the barn and streamed through the cracks of the wood until finally filling up the entire structure. In his words, the light was actually inside the room and prevented him from seeing due to how bright it was. This was followed by warmth throughout his entire body which he interpreted as inner peace. A peace in knowing that everything was going to work out and his own worries were pointless.
And as the story goes, the world would mend and Lon would travel through a very robust life with a wife, children, grandchildren and even a couple of step grandchildren he managed to inherit.
For many of us who never stop long enough to seek guidance or look for answers in the quiet of our own surroundings, we will never be relieved from the woes of this world. Using this story for guidance, how unbelievable it may be for some of you, I would advise finding a good barn to crawl into. You never know what kind of light may shine through the darkest of places.
In his memory and given he loved music more than anything...this one is for Lon. God bless you my friend and assuming where you are today, I hope you found some good sunglasses.
