(Italicized comments are from the album's liner notes; the rest are by Rick Saenz.)
1. Paddy, Won’t You Drink Some Cider (Traditional)
I learned this variant of Paddy from the amazing Dirk Powell a few summers back. This one of three melodies that I know with the same title, and one of many I know about this rascally character, Paddy. To avoid confusion, I simply refer to this tune as Dirk’s Paddy—Heidi Andrade
A great example of how this music can work. The tune has a straightforward A/B pattern; musical phrase A is repeated four times, followed by musical phrase B being repeated four times, then A four times, then B four times, etc. The fiddle kicks off the tune, and it is the small variations in how the fiddle plays the A and B phrases that drives the tune forward.
I especially like the section where Heidi Andrade drops into the lower register, giving her fiddle line an almost electrified growl.
You’ll know that you’re really beginning to understand this music and this band when you start to hear and appreciate the small and tasty figures that the banjo, mandolin, guitar, and bass toss into what is a very unobtrusive accompaniment.
2. Bear Creek Blues (The Carter Family)
Possibly one of the Carte Family’s funkiest numbers. Music Historian Charles Wolfe credits Sara Carter with putting this song together, probably drawing from popular blues lines picked up along the way. A great example of the African American influence in early country music—Martha Scanlan.
The weird shifting beat of the musical phrase that is played between verses is one of those mind-bending events in old-time music. At first hearing it doesn’t make sense, but soon enough you come to hear it as a distinctive of the tune, even more so than the melody.
Martha Scanlan’s singing on this song is top-notch: light, wavering, right on pitch, breaking exactly where she wants it to. And her accent-heavy pronunciations are delightful; I have no idea whether they are carefully studied, deliberately affected, or just what comes naturally, but they fit perfectly.
One thing I notice on this song is that Thomas Sneed’s playing doesn’t sound like traditional bluegrass mandolin at all. Listen to the walking figures he plays at the end of the phrase between verses, or when the band stretches out the pause between phrases in the verses.
3.Hallelujah (Martha Scanlan)
I’ll admit that this song, a Martha Scanlan original, goes into areas lyrically that I don’t understand. Some sort of magical realism, as far as I can tell. The song would have done well on an episode of Northern Exposure—which is not a bad thing! The melody and the playing are fine, a nice slow duet between fiddle and guitar, and I like to listen to it even as I fail to get it.
It’s cool that Heidi Andrade has the guts to play a quiet drone on her fiddle while Martha Scanlan sings the verses.
4. Maybe the Last Time (Roy Andrade / Words by Thomas Sneed)
This tune surfaced in the fall of 2001 during a time that was full of great highs, some dreadful lows, and lots of general craziness. As usual, music heals …—Roy Andrade
The first verse comes from a recording of Woody Guthrie playing Ida Red and hollering out dance calls. The rest is a mix from my head, Woody’s shouts, and a line from okie, Agnes Cunningham, and the Red Dust Players—Thomas Sneed
This was the song that knocked us over when we first heard the Travelers play live. But it’s almost impossible to explain why. The concept is very weird, particularly the lyrics being sung in the manner of a dance caller, back from the microphone quite a ways. And the melody, such as it is, is very fragile.
Everything is simple. The banjo is central, and yet it is light as a feather. Some simple chords from the mandolin, simple chords from the guitar. No fiddle. All of it seems to hang on the floating-in-space sound of that lovely musical phrase that comes at the end of each verse, when Thomas Sneed sings a plaintive “maybe the last time, I don’t know.”
Our kids will dance to this tune all day long. Chris has learned to play it on his dujo, and has taught Matthew to play it too. Maggie sings and clogs along.
I love the “dance till the break of day” that gets tossed in towards the end, and how the playing gets more and more spare as the tune winds down.
5. Ain’t Gwine Drink A, No More (Traditional)
From the Poplin Family of Sumter, South Carolina, whom our friend Jack Tottle recorded in the early 60s while serving in the armed forces. Bob Carlin plays a version he got from the African American fiddler Joe Thompson called “Old Corn Liquor.” An agreeable tune whether you’re on or off the wagon—Thomas Sneed.
This song must be a lot of fun to play and sing. Short quick verses, some five-part harmony on the chorus. The fiddle dominates the sections between verses, again spending its time mostly in the lower register for a gutsy driving sound. But be sure to follow what’s going on with the banjo.
6. Kiss Me Quick, Papa’s Coming (Traditional)
I learned this tune from a Bruce Greene recording, then from Bruce himself. I love the image of the young couple standing just inside the barn door as dad innocently approaches the barn with a pitchfork in his hand—Heidi Andrade.
Terrific fiddle tune, very positive and upbeat. The fiddle starts out in the upper register, with some upward-sliding notes to get your attention. About halfway through, Heidi drops into the lower register for an almost distorted sound; she does it again a little further on. The banjo mirrors the fiddle in a lot of places.
As on a number of other tunes, the last note of both the A section and the B section is held, adding a sweet bit of tension—preparing you to go around the loop once again.
7. Little Bird of Heaven (Martha Scanlan)
I dug this song out of the closet last spring when Jack Tottle asked us to record some of our original songs with the ETSU Bluegrass Band on a CD entitled ETSU Bluegrass Pride. We’ve been playing it ever since. Jack, Raymond, McLain, and Richard Blaustein have a reverence for this old music and the people who have played it that is equal only to their generosity in sharing it—Martha Scanlan
I understand the lyrics to this even less than with “Hallelujah”—some sort of magical realism, sounds like—but I suppose that’s besides the point. The tune has a gentle, loping sound, something you might sing while walking down an abandoned railroad track on a humid summer afternoon. Roy Andrade’s banjo mostly carries the tune, but Thomas Sneed contributes some a some nice mandolin lines at a couple of points. And Martha and Thomas together on the chorus is the best old-time singing on the album.
8. Flippin’ Jenny (Traditional)
This tune comes from the late West Virginia fiddler Ernie Carpenter and is one of many great ones he played. Apparently Jenny breaks a promise to a potential beau by promising him “something better than squirrel” in exchange for “a mess of squirrel meat.” After tasting the squirrel, she decides that there simply isn’t anything better than squirrel. Not sure about the flippin’ part—Heidi Andrade.
Just fiddle with banjo this time, making for an especially back-porch sound. The held note is back, but used a bit more sparingly. The middle section drops into the lower registers, then jumps back up in the middle of a phrase—nice. At points there are staccato notes that sound like the bow is bouncing off the fiddle, which somehow add a bit of tension.
9. Sally Goodin (Traditional)
This version of Sally Goodin comes from Emmet Lundy via Rafe Stefanini—Heidi Andrade
I got the first line about talkin’ “to myself” from Wade Mainer, who recorded his version in the 1930s. I’ve been fortunate enough to visit Wade, who continues to make great music in his mid-nineties with his wife Julia. “How you feelin’, Wade?” “Better than ever, Tommy!”—Thomas Sneed
This song encapsulates for me the Travelers’ good-time approach to their music. When the tune is only 2 minutes and 49 seconds long, it’s partly bravery and partly sheer enjoyment of the melody to put off starting the first verse for more than a minute. But everybody is playing and in the groove, so why move on just yet? Then comes the first verse, which is very short, maybe six or seven seconds, and then another minute of stretching out, before the second and final verse. You would only construct a tune this way because you love to play it, and the love becomes contagious.
What the heck is going on with the banjo? Roy Andrade is wandering off into his own private territory, but if you listen you’ll enjoy the journey. At points it sounds like he’s tapping on a steel drum.
10. Down the River (Traditional)
This tune comes from Burt Gavin on a recording of Kentucky banjo players. It’s reminiscent of the tune Dinah, but has that nice third part. I think of my friend Wright Ramsey of Hancock County, Tennessee, and his stories about men floating logs down to Chattanooga on the Clinch River, and then walking back home—Roy Andrade.
A good example of how the Travelers are working to uncover and present us with treasures from the past. It would be easy to treat tunes like this as museum pieces, but in their hands the music lives, a gorgeous melody in a subdued setting. Roy Andrade’s pure and plaintive vocal fits the melody well. Thomas Sneed chimes in on mandolin—literally.
11. Elzic’s Farewell (Traditional)
I learned this mournful tune from David Frank (“French”) Carpenter, an older relative of Ernie’s. Possibly and old English bag pipe tune, this now common tune is believed to have come to the New World via one of French’s ancestors—Heidi Andrade
I’ll bet this song can get a crowd going. I’m not sure I’d call the tune “mournful”—listen to “Father Adieu” for that!. In the A section the fiddle playing is extremely high energy, building enough tension to burst into the B section with the entire band.
It’s great how in the A section one or two other instruments will come in to add a bit to the fiddle—bass, bass and guitar, guitar, banjo.
12. Father Adieu (Traditional, E.C. Ball)
This song comes from Alan Lomax’s Sounds of the South recording, although I think I first heard it years back from Tim and Mollie O’Brien—Thomas Sneed
Another mystery song—how do they get so much out of so little? A chiming mandolin dominates, banjo and guitar play simple accompaniment, the fiddle provides a subtle but critical drone. The repetitive lyrics hint at a story, but no more than that. Thomas Sneed sings the lovely melody with just a touch of high lonesome sound; Martha Scanlan adds an old-time-sounding harmony on the second part.
Odd meter is a distinctive element of this song. The first part of the verse (“Father, adieu, I am sorry for you, my heart is filled with trouble so what can I do?”) is regular as can be. But the second part (“Well, if we never meet again till that last trumpet shall sound, prepare to meet in heaven till parting is no more.”) doesn’t fit any which-way into the meter—but somehow the melody stretches and bends to envelope all the words, and the stretching and bending itself becomes a critical part of the song. Are there rules for doing this sort of thing? I can’t imagine how they might work.
13. Higher Rock (Martha Scanlan)
A song about Jesus. There’s poetry afoot here. The verses are very tight, much tighter than haiku, and very evocative when they work.
Mary weeped over me
Mary weeped over me
Turned on dime, suddenly
When you reach for the higher rock
Then you reach for Me.Shackle and chain can’t settle me
Shackle and chain can’t settle me
Been strung up on a dogwood tree
When you reach for the higher rock
Then you reach for Me.Gilded cage is a treachery
Gilded cage is a treachery
Heart of gold that holds the key
When you reach for the higher rock
Then you reach for Me.