
The following was written by PoP contributor, Charles
You don’t actually have to be much of a bluegrass fan to really like bluegrass festivals. Half the fun is putting as much psychic distance between yourself and the city as seems possible without a plane ticket or a passport. Pitching a tent on the banks of Shavers Fork and watching bluegrass on a hand-built stage, surrounded by green mountains and the sort of people who find your DC plates exotic enough to start up a conversation does that quite nicely.
But the music is pretty good, too. I am no bluegrass expert, but one of the most memorable musical moment I’ve ever had came a couple of years back at “Li’L Margaret’s Bluegrass and Old Time Music Festival” when a heavy-set blind guy named Michael Cleveland threw down against a skinny kid called Patrick McAvinue and they tore the place up with just a couple of fiddles and a stand-up mic.
We didn’t see anything quite that astounding last weekend, at the “Pickin’ in Parsons (West Virginia) Celebration of Bluegrass and Hillbilly Music,” but we caught most of the 15 acts that played over three days and barely heard a bad note. Every now and then one of the better known acts, like Rhonda Vincent & The Rage or Randy Waller and the (next generation of, apparently) Country Gentlemen seemed a little slick. But the music was fun and heartfelt and occasionally brilliant, in a setting that’s the mountaineer equivalent of the smoky bar where you caught Nirvana just before Nevermind came out.

It’s mostly the music, but it’s not just the music. Apparently there’s redneck Borscht Belt, also in the mountains but several hundred miles south of the Catskills, and the one-liners are unrelenting. Karl Shiflett in particular seems to be trapped in an old Hee Haw rerun (“My fiddler got on the airplane and set down next to a preacher….”), and what’s up with the weird faces and that thing he does with his leg? But his playing makes up for his corn. And outfits like the Hillbilly Gypsies and the Tennessee Mafia Jug Band are clearly out to have as much fun as you are, and if that means a few groaners in between truly impressive picking (and, with the Gypsies, the hottest hillbilly girl in America singing murder ballads), well, it’s just a way of reminding you that all this talk about culture and tradition is nice, but we’re here to have a good time. Continues after the jump. (more…)