Few things in life are more fun than a pickin’ circle – a group of musicians sitting around a campfire or on a porch somewhere with guitars, banjos, fiddles. It’s always an informal affair, this practice of getting together in an open jam. Not being a musician myself, I can only imagine that actually playing is more fun than sitting on the outside listening, but the listening part suits me just fine.
One of those few things in life more fun than a pickin’ circle is an old-fashioned camp-out bluegrass festival like the Cherokee Farms Fiddler’s Convention that was held in the foothills of the Appalachian mountains near Lafayette, GA July 10th -11th of this summer. And this makes perfect sense as an old-fashioned bluegrass festival is essentially the mother of all pickin’ circles. The lineup featured no small amount of serious bluegrass and roots-Americana talent. Friday night Columbus’ own Bibb City Ramblers played the big stage followed by The Virginia Dare Devils from Asheville, NC. Those acts were followed up by festie veterans and national touring act, The Snake Oil Medicine Show.
Saturday afternoon started off with an open jam session at the smaller stage hosted by Bibb City Ramblers (amazingly fresh considering the marathon pickin’ session the night before) followed by several groups that were new to me such as Pea Ridge Ramblers and Smokey’s Farmland Band with special guest Joe McGuinness. After dinnertime the main action shifted back to the big stage where audience members were treated to more big names in the bluegrass community like Larry Keel and Chojo Jaques.
While the weekend was in no way lacking in professional-caliber talent performing all formal-like up on the big stage, the real focus was fiddlers (and banjo pickers, guitar strummers, bass thumpers, and the occasional bongo drummer, washboard player, and spoon clicker) informally convening. From the time I arrived and pitched my tent to the time I packed up the tent and headed out someone, somewhere was playing music. Friday night, long after the festivities on the main stage ended, I was lulled to sleep by the distant sounds of a pickin’ circle around the campfire across the meadow. Waking up Saturday morning, my pancake-making was serenaded by songsters playing in groups scattered all over the festival grounds. On my way to the port-a-potties I passed no less than four gatherings of musicians at various campsites.
After breakfast I wandered around the festival grounds, watching little girls hula hooping, little boys playing on the floating dock in the pond, and old hippies dancing. I wound my way in and out of vendor tents selling stickers and tie-dyed t-shirts and hand made crafts of all sorts, soaking in all the sights and sounds and smells that comprise a music festival. Finally I parked my behind on a grassy hillside to sit and listen to the music. I’ve heard many of these bands before playing in more traditional venues – bars and the like – playing the same music and often with many of these same folks in the audience. However, the feeling of being there in that space in that moment felt so inexplicably different from the experience of seeing music on an indoor stage.
After much thought (and a few beers) I think I finally put my finger on the difference. When a band plays in a bar, while no doubt some of the audience have that date marked on their calendars as a must-not-miss, many others are folks who have wandered in off the street either in search of a drink or having heard the music from the sidewalk. At Cherokee Farms, as with any camping festival, the vast majority of the attendees traveled quite a distance to be there and they cleared out an entire weekend of their lives in order to attend. All my fellow festival-goers were there quite deliberately, and went through quite a bit of effort to be there. Audience members, camp-mates, fellow travelers – not only do we all make the pilgrimage for the music, we gather to enjoy each other’s company. The feeling is much like a family reunion (though lacking in the drama and dysfunction so common to reunions of biological families.)
This summer’s convention was the first year of what is to become an annual event. No doubt next year will be bigger, better. My family and I are already making plans to be there, to hook up with old friends, to make new friends, to dance, to sing, to be with our musical family.
