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Posted: May 22nd, 2009
Hootin and hollerin; tunes of whiskey; southern style dancing; – a true barnyard hoedown.
by Kenneth Fibbe
The recipe for Old Crow Medicine is as rudimentary as it as freshly formulaic: mix the knee-slappin’ melodies of a 1920s string band with the musical attitude of pre-anarchist punk rockers. Then splash in juiced-up fiddle vs. acoustic guitar solo battles and throw in a dash of fast paced harmonica pitter-patter. In the end what you get is a multi-rooted bluegrass amalgamation that is both youthful, vibrant, and country fried. It is a musical remedy that on May 22, merited enough energy to have the music hall audience on a south bound ecstasy that had them piercing the walls with their prolific cheers and cutting up rugs with their fervent jigging.
This wasn’t your classic cookie-cutter jug band performance. So throw out those “O’Brother Where Art Thou?” soundtrack analogies and former hillbilly barnyard band stereotypes: this show was more than that. It was a banjo-laced shot of Red Bull straight into the veins of the audience. And it didn’t take long for the drug to kick in. From the first song right down to the very last, the crowd on the first floor and (much of the balcony) never sat down – a rare occurrence at the music hall. But how could anyone sit when the singer Ketch Secor is playing a fiddle so fast that you could literally see smoke raise from the strings (no joke). Or when guitjo player Kevin Hayes frantically strummed his acoustic while laying on his back on stage; during which the rest of the band was hovering over him and slowly crouching inwards as they all feverishly jammed their respective instruments.
At one point Hayes broke a guitar string in mid-song. He could have waited for the next song to fix it. Instead, while still plucking what strings he still had, he ran and grabbed a new string and began to spin in a circle while he wrapped it tight to his guitar – all while Secor steadily increased the stepping pace of his harmonica like some thriller movie building suspense for the final climatic scene. When the impromptu song finished with a unified bang from the band, the crowd erupted and cried for more….more…more!
It wasn’t long into the show when Hayes told the crowd “People usually dance at our shows, so we encourage all of you, everyone, to get down with the Old Crow on this wonderful evening.” Immediately, the people from the front row and right aisles let loose and began filling the walking spaces with old school barnyard dances, jigs, and, at the end of the show, square dancing lines. In front of me, a couple men danced some sort of Old-Crow-chicken-shuffle up and down the aisles as the band played “Mary’s Kitchen.” Songs like “Tear It Down” and “Alabama High-Test” had turned the entire hall into a large scale, amped-up Appalachia hoedown. Hootin’ and hollerin’ ensued.
But it wasn’t all high octane, hillbilly rump-shakin’ action. One thing Old Crow has been known for is their ability to use the unique, Kentucky cabin croons of Secor’s vocals to stimulate melancholic feelings with listeners through a style of music that they never have associated with before. So when they slowed it down with their famous “Wagon Wheel”, “Tennessee Pusher” and “Caroline,” the dancing was temporarily put on hold for reflection and appreciation of loved ones and the history of the music that they have once again put back on the map.
As former struggling workers, O.C.M.S. players left every last ounce of energy they had on that stage, like it was their last show ever and they wanted the notes to echo forever along the hills of Munhall. It was near impossible to be disappointed with this show. In fact, it was one of the best performances I had seen in a very, very long time.
The venue was packed with a gitty group of blue collar workers - the true salt of the earth concert goers that paid their hard earned dollars to see a live show worthy of admission. And Old Crow players respectfully know and embrace their crowd base, since they too were once struggling to make it by.
These are the same boys who scoff at the flash and mainstream pop mindset of the current hot country heard on CMT. The same ones who ten years ago were touring the nation in a broken down, rusty van equipped with nothing but sparse cases of cheap booze, gas station lunch meat sandwiches, and a live-or-die attitude that had them pruning every last branch the music industry stretched at them. It’s a tall tale of rags to flannel riches that unfolded like folklore from the spoken word of an aged, blind banjo player perched out on the front porch of the saloon in a forgotten dust town in Nowhere, USA.
There is dirt on their jeans, chewing tobacco in their pockets, and whiskey on their breath. They are who their audience is – nothing more. It is this connection with the people and their unfaltering dissonance with music industry trends and corporate label big wigs that their fans have come to love.
“We leave it for the people to decide what we are,” guitarist and banjo player Gill Landry said after the show.
They can not, and will not, be strangled by the hands of archetype genres and outlandish stereotypes. They are Old Crow Medicine Show – and Landry elaborated on this ideal backstage:
4 Questions With: Gill Landry Slide Guitar, Banjo, Vocals
I read somewhere that you guys don’t like to be summed up into one genre. So what do you tell people when they ask “What type of music do you play?”
We draw from a lot of areas, like blues, bluegrass, country, and many others. There are so many shifts in genre that I don’t think we belong with any of them. I think we are what our listeners say we are, and that’s it. Just as long as they are having a great time, they can call us whatever they like.
What are some of the venues you like play at?
Well, this hall was really nice. I like playing at some of these more elegant places like Ryman Auditorium in Nashville . It gives it a more spiritual sense of playing.
What do you hope concert goers get from your shows?
Horny! I want everyone to be heartbroken and booty poppin’ to a banjo. We like a lively audience, and we try to make sure everyone is having a great time out there. We like those hard working men and women who want to escape the times and just see a good show. We play for them.
What types of songs mean the most to the band? Any that get a particular crowd reaction every time?
Well sure, most people really like “Wagon Wheel” and “Caroline.” But we are five guys with five completely different takes on music and interests. So that comes out in our music and live performances, with all of us doing our own little side show or battle meshed into a song. So sometimes one song I will love, but the next guy might hate, and vice versa. I personally like “Tennessee Pusher.” But, if someone else doesn’t, we still play them, no worries. But for the most part we love our songs. I mean, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.
Kenneth Fibbe is a graduate print journalism student at Point Park University in Pittsburgh. He has been writing music reviews for collegiate publications since 2006, most frequently as editor-in-chief of The View newspaper at Lindsey Wilson College in Columbia, KY. His first concert was They Might Be Giants in 2000, and he has attended countless shows since then. From Poison and Brad Paisley to Less Than Jake and The Backstreet Boys, Ken has been enjoying and writing about live performances in just about every genre of music imaginable. He also has bachelor degrees in Mathematics and Business Management, and has contributed news stories as a freelance writer for the Pittsburgh Tribune-Review. He can be contacted at kfibbe@pointpark.edu
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