Music Soothes the Savage Beast

Tom Piazza says that bluegrass is the jazz of country and the show we went to last night seems to bear him out. It was awesome. I was grinning the whole time.  I had neglected, apparently, to convey the awesomeness of the show to my parents beforehand, so they thought they were going to see Del McCoury and then the Preservation Hall Jazz Band. So, when they realized that the two groups were going to play together through the whole show, they were thrilled.

My dad knew every song and sang along. My mom clapped and danced. The guy sitting next to her was so delighted  by her enthusiasm that he told her she should go see them in New Orleans, where he could guarantee they would tear the place down. Bless his heart, this lead to my mom being very upset the whole ride home that they were going to physically demolish Preservation Hall. Remember this story, when you use your crazy hipster slang, people.

It’s impossible to say what was best. It all was best. The Del McCoury Band did a nice tribute to Earl Scruggs that really showed off their talent in using their microphones and just how easily they pass a melody between them which I was glad about because I really wanted my dad to get to see that. I have set aside my prejudice against clarinets based solely on last night. It was awesome to see the clarinet and the fiddle swapping the melody. The main tuba player, I swear, danced the whole time. I said to my dad that that’s a guy whose doctor never nags him about getting more cardio. If you can dance through a whole two hour show while playing the tuba, you are in good shape.

The drummer was amazing. The Butcher and I both said that there were a couple of times when you would have thought he was asleep except for his wrists. You get used to drummers who flail their whole arms about, like squabbling chickens, and so seeing someone who can conduct a whole dramatic three minute long drum solo while looking no more worked up than my grandpa is pretty disconcerting. The noises were all as if he was John Bonham, but his public demeanor was more like the calm Buddha.

At the end, people were waving their hands and their handkerchiefs. My mom was dancing and clapping and though neither her claps nor her wiggles matched the music (both my dad and my brother leaned over to me and said “Mom is white” at different ties, which got me to laughing so hard I couldn’t look at any of them.) her joy was infectious.

I wish their visits could always end like this.

4 thoughts on “Music Soothes the Savage Beast

  1. Hi! Pedant man here, to remind you that the quote is actually “savage breast,” and also to state that you shouldn’t think too hard about savage breasts.

  2. Fancycwabs, that quote issue occured to me as well. Pedantry FTW! (Or not.)

    Tell you what: I’m going to see the Nashville Ballet do Rite of Spring in a couple weeks, so I will come back and give a report on savage breasts at that time.

  3. People! Stop making me have to think about my mom’s boobs!

    Any other savage breasts are fine, but in a post about my mom?!

    NM, it did not, but the sincere grin Del had on his face the whole time, like it was Christmas morning, just make me think the world of him. And since I already thought this world of him, I now think the Earth and Mars of him. It was really awesome.

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