Sonnet on Why I Like Folk Music

Ring body's bell with Two Grenadiers.
Ring Brazil's bells with viola and bow.
Dig genetic roots.  Bring forth fiddle tears.
Reveal notes--ancestor's proclivities.
Suggest a new tune around the session.
Speak childish language play divine hymn.
Release dopamine for good infection.
Treated as a baby, play, infect, grin.
Wasted hundreds on lessons.  Work pays more.
Dancing, twirling, posing, my daughter smiles.
Inspired work never feels like working.
Swimming in sound waves--dancers tread miles.
Ring, dig, show, speak, release, smile, work, dance.
Reveal heaven's creation through music's glance.

"Why does Folk Music Sound the Same?"

A few of us get together in a folk/fiddle music group at the school where I teach and play traditional music from Ireland, Scotland, French Canada, New England, Appalachia, and further a field. Not only do we play music, but we often discuss it. In one such interchange the question was asked, “why do you like this kind of music so much--it all seems to sound the same?”  At the time I didn’t reasonably answer either part of this question.  It tends to be more of an emotional than a rational tie. It's something you grow up doing, something you've been initiated into, and dogmatically accepted as good. The limited answers have caused me to try and dig deeper in answering both why folk music sounds the same and reasons it's good more than, "I just like it".  

Does all folk music sound the same?  Since this question first was bounced off my brain a similar question has helped me see it from a different angle.  "Why does every basketball game and play look so much the same?" Stockton to Malone or Steve Nash to anybody may appear similar, but it shines at us anew when we see it against a new opponent.  Basketball looks the same in part because of the rules that restrict players to certain activities, i.e. a ten-foot hoop, a round ball, twelve foot lane, fouls, a time clock, etc. Other contributing factors are that certain moves work well against particular opponents.  Instead of lines on a hardwood floor, musicians historically are restricted within an isolated geography. Therefore environment has shaped the northern, southern, eastern, and western musical traditions of various peoples, nations, and countries. The nature, flow, and accent of a people also work as rules that shape the musical rites. Cowboys that hold onto their vowels and speak with a lazy drawl create sung and played poetry which reflects them. Irish singers and fiddler's percussively roll their “rs” or certain notes just like Irish speakers when they say words like "world" or "girl".  The rolled "r" sounds the same, but "girl" and "world" communicate two unique thoughts. For more examples of folk music reflecting language see the entertaining Lenard Bernstein video "What is Folk Music".  


If we are generally okay with words in our own language sounding the same and basketball plays looking similar than why is it a problem that Folk Music sounds the same?  How do Folk Musicians stomach playing the same thing over and over ad nauseum? Do they just lay down and ashamedly admit their mediocrity in playing undemanding music that can't compare with the greatness of the highbrow concert music? Some might, but where are they? If you're asking why one tune sounds the same as another you just need more time plumbing the depths of this pool. True that each tune's value is not equal. Many have come and gone with their authors. Some, however outlast those who compose them. The heart of this question really begs to know, "What makes one tune desirable or beautiful over a similarly sounding tune?" There are many contributing factors, but perhaps the greatest part of a tune's beauty comes from the player. A friend of mine hates David Brody's version of "Saint Antoine's Reel", but liked it when they listened to this video. If a player can keep your interest through various tunes then beauty is enhanced. The beauty of "The Wood Chopper's reel" is manifest when folks start to tap their feet or get up and dance. Additional instruments often make a tune take on new life. Recently I've added foot percussion to the French Canadian tunes and almost as the first beat hits the floor on cue my children start to dance. When a session is losing the flow, a passionate singer can with their words breath new life into the other players and audience. Soloing is another thing of beauty that tends to swallows up the monotony of repetition. When you're in a large bluegrass session where the solo is passed around the room in a circle or called out by the tune's leader you get so concerned about what you're going to improvise that you don't have time to worry about the tune sounding the same.  Almost all of the "new" things you can add to your playing are precisely because you ask the sameness question and then seek to go deeper. Boredom can actually catalyze the experiment with new and different elements to create and originate on top of that same old song.  


Most of the things in life are "the same". Reading, writing, deciphering, loving, contracting business, and a hundred different things are doomed to this fate. Who said that you have the right to an exciting and new way of reading, writing, loving, doing business, or a hundred different chores in this life? It seems like the opportunity to have your brain washed over with dopamine can be manipulated either through drugs, dangerous extreme sports, or through working hard at the hardest parts of one's job or hobby and feeling the self satisfaction of sincerely doing your best. Drugs are too overrated and what's to show for it? Extreme sports would ruin your spouse's sanity so hang it! Go get doped up on taking your folk music game to the next level!

Stay tuned and we'll look at the other part of the question in the next post.

Sonnet number 6/8

When on my mind a new jig constant plays.
Lyrics and notes crash upon my grey sand.
The chaos comes to light amidst the haze.
Creations seed is sown among our land.
Take up your own respective instrument.
The sounds are faint and distant to the ear.
Listeners lose faith but we ramble bent.
The music comes from where no man can hear.
The empathizer taps his little toes.
Young girls shoot their giggles at their boys.
Romance begins and ends without a rose.
It all began with that which was just noise.
When on my mind a new tune constant plays.
Lyrics and seeds crash upon my grey haze.