One of the joys of my dull and hopelessly boring life is hearing musicians practice their craft…especially those of the local variety. Here in the wilds of central Virginia, it’s no secret that we take our music pretty seriously as most everyone and their uncle were brought up in the rural ways of singing while learning to twang a guitar or fiddle almost as soon as they could hold one. Music is as much a part of life here as is our gardens and hayfields and I sometimes wonder if anyone has even heard the half of them yet? I’ve never met a musician, whether he was a hayseed or not, whom I didn’t like. So I’m always down for listening to a new voice or band. Imagine how pleased I was when an elderly acquaintance of mine who I knew liked picking a banjo let it slip over the phone that he occasionally plays with a bunch of his old buddies who put on an impromptu concert every Friday night in town. I never knew this side of him and when I expressed my profound curiosity and surprise he invited me to come out sometime and give them an ear.
Say what you will about old geezers. They may be slow and ornery, but they’re a lot of fun and still the grandmasters when it comes to pickin’ and singin’. And this bunch of old farts was certainly no exception. There were a dirty dozen of them that night playing guitars, banjos and fiddles while cracking jokes about each other when they weren’t singing folk ditties and old classics from years gone by. No dancing went on as practically everyone in the audience (besides myself) were well past their dancing years and were just happy to get out of the house to mingle while listening to some local talent play. Bedford often gets knocked for not having anything to do but I’m glad to see that there’s still some life and action happening on a Friday night. Raising a ruckus in a small town ain’t an easy feat no matter what your age or maturity level. But I’ve noticed playing a musical instrument sure helps to get some attention. And serving cake and cookies certainly doesn’t hurt either.
