Gondrin. Les meilleurs banjoïstes mondiaux
Tony Tryschka ou encore Jean-Marie Redon, banjoïstes réputés, étaient à Gondrin chez Benoît Laine, pour jouer du bluegrass./Photo G.M.
Tony Tryschka ou encore Jean-Marie Redon, banjoïstes réputés, étaient à Gondrin chez Benoît Laine, pour jouer du bluegrass./Photo G.M.
Tony Tryschka ou encore Jean-Marie Redon, banjoïstes réputés, étaient à Gondrin chez Benoît Laine, pour jouer du bluegrass./Photo G.M.
Parce que Benoît Laine ne peut plus pincer les cordes de son banjo avec son groupe des Howlin'Fox (comprenez : le renard hurlant) car trop loin de Paris et de ses amis musiciens après avoir repris il y a deux ans le camping Le Pardaillan à Gondrin, il a donc décidé de faire venir sa passion à lui. Fondu de musique bluegrass, dont on dit que ses adeptes en sont fous et qu'ils en n'ont jamais assez, Benoît reconnaît volontiers tous les symptômes de la « bluegrassmania », cette maladie musicale « obsessionnelle et incurable » attrapée par un copain qui l'a initié au banjo. Ancêtre ou branche de la country music, le bluegrass est né dans le Kentuky des années « 40 » et se vit autant comme un genre musical qu'une manière d'être. Musique de partage et de convivialité, Benoît n'a donc pas hésité à faire résonner, jeudi, son camping aux sons rythmés des banjos en organisant un stage avec ses amis musiciens. Et pas des moindres : le gratin des banjoïstes. L'américain Tony Tryschka, venu tout droit de Nashville et reconnu mondialement dans sa spécialité tout comme Jean- Marie Redon, Pierre Bonjour, Fred Simon, Phillipe Eymery, étaient tous réunis à Gondrin. Une quinzaine de stagiaires venus des quatre coins de la France étaient aussi présents pour des cours et des ateliers de mise en pratique des techniques instrumentales. En soirée, un concert était organisé au restaurant l'auberge du Lac autour d'un chili con carne. Une soirée mémorable qui a attiré plus d'une centaine de personnes. Le grand Tony avec son banjo a d'abord joué seul avant d'être rejoint par une mandoline, un contrebassiste, un violon et un dobro. Musique country et standards américains étaient au programme d'une soirée bluegrass qui sentait bon les Etats-Unis mais qui multiplie ses amateurs partout dans le monde et notamment à Gondrin, où Benoît entend organiser des rendez-vous pluriannuels pour vivre sa passion jusqu'au bout des 5 cordes de son banjo.
Toni TRISCHKA au Pardaillan un moment d'Eternité
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souillart dany
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Pas si sûr !!! 
C'est un peu long à lire , c'est en anglais...mais ça vaut le détour !
( Il y a d'autres exemples ds le genre ......)
Jewish Bluegrass
Lovers of the banjo, fiddle and mandolin blend cultural identity and religious faith to create a uniquely American sound
By Jen Miller
Smithsonian.com, September 24, 2009
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High Lonesome Honga
Margot Leverett and the Klezmer Mountain Boys blend bluegrass and klezmer during a performance in New York City
Audio Gallery
Kee Eshmerah Shabbat
Lucky Break combines Appalachian music with Shabbat Z'mirot (Sabbath songs)
More from Smithsonian.com
•Blue Ridge BluegrassThis Passover, my friend Lester Feder sat at the head of his family’s Seder table, strumming away on his banjo and belting out Hebrew lyrics with a big-voiced Appalachian twang. As a bluegrass and old-time musician myself, I was familiar with Lester’s wailing sound. As a Jew, I’d been to countless Seders. But the transposition of these traditions was like nothing I’d ever imagined.
For Feder, a Northern Virginia native, fusing his American identity with his religious heritage through music was a natural development. “I feel far more connected to the old time traditions of the upper South than the Ashkenazi traditions of Eastern Europe,” he said. “I wanted to make a Seder that was my own.”
“Jewgrass,” as this fusion is sometimes called, is played by a diverse group of old-time and bluegrass musicians. Among them are New York City Jews who grew up during the 1960s folk revival, orthodox Jews who sing Hebrew prayers set to bluegrass melodies and klezmer musicians who infuse their music with Appalachian fiddle tunes. These lovers of the banjo, the fiddle and the mandolin have found a uniquely American way to express their Jewish cultural identity and religious faith.
Feder, who holds a doctorate in musicology from the University of California, Los Angeles, says African slaves brought the banjo to the United States and with it, the frailing style (banjo strings are brushed downward with the back of the fingers or nails) associated with old-time music. Old-time, the precursor to bluegrass, developed in America during the 19th and early 20th centuries, incorporating the musical traditions of African-American, Irish, English and Scottish communities. Bluegrass emerged in the 1930s when Kentucky native Bill Monroe fused old-time music with blues and jazz influences to create a new sound. Unlike old-time, which emphasizes the fiddle and melody, bluegrass music’s distinctive features are instrumental solos and bluegrass banjo—a hard-driving style in which the player picks with three fingers.
Over time, this music became associated with a romanticized notion of rural America: people sitting on their back porches strumming the banjo, living “authentic” country lives. Jews were drawn to this music, partly because of the romanticized ideal. “Jews are a religious minority in largely Christian country,” Feder says. “Southern music has been a way for them to connect to that mainstream American identity.”
Bluegrass lyrics celebrate country living, but many of the people singing them are city folk. Jerry Wicentowski grew up in Brooklyn in the 1960s and fell in love with bluegrass during the folk revival. For religious Jews like Wicentowski, there was a rebellious element to being a fan of the music. Bluegrass became his escape. During the week, he studied at an insular yeshiva; on the weekends he played guitar in Washington Square Park.
After earning a Master’s degree in Hebrew and Semitic Studies and then drifting away from Judaism, a series of life events led Wicentowski to return to religion. Eventually, he found himself a man with two strong identities: a Jew and a bluegrass musician. He began to fuse the two. Wicentowski worked on an album with mandolin virtuoso Andy Statman called “Shabbos in Nashville,” which featured Jewish songs in the style of 1950s bluegrass. Later, he founded his own band, Lucky Break. The Minnesota-based quartet bills itself as “uniquely American, uniquely Jewish,” by mixing “the stark beauty of Appalachian music with Shabbat Z’mirot,” or Sabbath songs.
Robbie Ludwick, a Hassidic Jew from Silver Spring, Maryland, is the only Jew in his current band, The Zion Mountain Boys. Ludwick lives in an orthodox community, davens daily and spends most of his free time playing the mandolin. His band mates have impressive independent music careers but are drawn to the unique sound of Ludwick’s music—songs that blend traditional bluegrass with Hassidic melodies called niguns.
This Passover, my friend Lester Feder sat at the head of his family’s Seder table, strumming away on his banjo and belting out Hebrew lyrics with a big-voiced Appalachian twang. As a bluegrass and old-time musician myself, I was familiar with Lester’s wailing sound. As a Jew, I’d been to countless Seders. But the transposition of these traditions was like nothing I’d ever imagined.
For Feder, a Northern Virginia native, fusing his American identity with his religious heritage through music was a natural development. “I feel far more connected to the old time traditions of the upper South than the Ashkenazi traditions of Eastern Europe,” he said. “I wanted to make a Seder that was my own.”
“Jewgrass,” as this fusion is sometimes called, is played by a diverse group of old-time and bluegrass musicians. Among them are New York City Jews who grew up during the 1960s folk revival, orthodox Jews who sing Hebrew prayers set to bluegrass melodies and klezmer musicians who infuse their music with Appalachian fiddle tunes. These lovers of the banjo, the fiddle and the mandolin have found a uniquely American way to express their Jewish cultural identity and religious faith.
Feder, who holds a doctorate in musicology from the University of California, Los Angeles, says African slaves brought the banjo to the United States and with it, the frailing style (banjo strings are brushed downward with the back of the fingers or nails) associated with old-time music. Old-time, the precursor to bluegrass, developed in America during the 19th and early 20th centuries, incorporating the musical traditions of African-American, Irish, English and Scottish communities. Bluegrass emerged in the 1930s when Kentucky native Bill Monroe fused old-time music with blues and jazz influences to create a new sound. Unlike old-time, which emphasizes the fiddle and melody, bluegrass music’s distinctive features are instrumental solos and bluegrass banjo—a hard-driving style in which the player picks with three fingers.
Over time, this music became associated with a romanticized notion of rural America: people sitting on their back porches strumming the banjo, living “authentic” country lives. Jews were drawn to this music, partly because of the romanticized ideal. “Jews are a religious minority in largely Christian country,” Feder says. “Southern music has been a way for them to connect to that mainstream American identity.”
Bluegrass lyrics celebrate country living, but many of the people singing them are city folk. Jerry Wicentowski grew up in Brooklyn in the 1960s and fell in love with bluegrass during the folk revival. For religious Jews like Wicentowski, there was a rebellious element to being a fan of the music. Bluegrass became his escape. During the week, he studied at an insular yeshiva; on the weekends he played guitar in Washington Square Park.
After earning a Master’s degree in Hebrew and Semitic Studies and then drifting away from Judaism, a series of life events led Wicentowski to return to religion. Eventually, he found himself a man with two strong identities: a Jew and a bluegrass musician. He began to fuse the two. Wicentowski worked on an album with mandolin virtuoso Andy Statman called “Shabbos in Nashville,” which featured Jewish songs in the style of 1950s bluegrass. Later, he founded his own band, Lucky Break. The Minnesota-based quartet bills itself as “uniquely American, uniquely Jewish,” by mixing “the stark beauty of Appalachian music with Shabbat Z’mirot,” or Sabbath songs.
Robbie Ludwick, a Hassidic Jew from Silver Spring, Maryland, is the only Jew in his current band, The Zion Mountain Boys. Ludwick lives in an orthodox community, davens daily and spends most of his free time playing the mandolin. His band mates have impressive independent music careers but are drawn to the unique sound of Ludwick’s music—songs that blend traditional bluegrass with Hassidic melodies called niguns.
Ludwick connects with the themes of redemption, faith, and fortitude expressed in Southern music. Before Ludwick found his way to Orthodox Judaism, he was a heavy metal rocker and self-described misfit. Today, he’s a father of three. “There’s a love of family, nature, and the land in bluegrass,” he says. “It’s wholesome.”
Jerry Wicentowski’s band also has non-Jewish members. Because Lucky Break has a largely Hebrew repertoire, he writes out lyrics phonetically. Still, it’s not easy to fit Hebrew lyrics to bluegrass melodies. Hebrew is a terse, sharp language; Hebrew twang is an oxymoron. “Structurally, it’s hard to put the stress on the right syllable,” Wicentowski says.
Religious restrictions also make it difficult for some Jewish bluegrass musicians to build a career. Judaism forbids playing musical instruments on Shabbat, which spans from sunset Friday evening through sunset Saturday evening. This is especially problematic in the summer months, when most of the bluegrass and old time festivals are held and the days are longer. Because of these restrictions, Lucky Break and The Zion Mountain Boys play most of their performances at Jewish venues and occasionally reach broader audiences.
Margot Leverett and the Klezmer Mountain Boys, a klezmer-bluegrass fusion band based in Manhattan, play various venues around New York City. Klezmer is the secular, festive music of Eastern European Jews, and its sound has much in common with fast-paced fiddle tunes of old-time music and the hard-driving banjo of bluegrass. Margot Leverett, the band’s clarinetist, calls it “dancing music.” It’s hard to feel unhappy—or sit still—when listening to a live performance. But Hassidic niguns and old-time ballads that Leverett also loves, share a darker connection.
Historically, she says, “Jews and Southern Appalachian people have a lot in common. They’ve been driven out of their homes, have lived hard lives, and have used music for strength.” Leverett’s vibrant blue eyes tear up when she talks about the displacement that poor Southerners experienced in the 1920s, when they were forced to leave their homes and seek out work in the cities. “There’s the same homesickness in Jewish folk songs,” she says.
“American life allows different groups to be inspired and influenced by one another,” Wicentowski says. “This isn’t an uncommon thing in American experience and it’s not uncommon in the Jewish experience,” he adds. “Jews have done this wherever we’ve gone over the millennium.”
Read more: http://www.smithsonianmag.com/arts-cult ... z16V2lUR00
(Page 2 of 2)
More from Smithsonian.com
•Blue Ridge BluegrassLudwick connects with the themes of redemption, faith, and fortitude expressed in Southern music. Before Ludwick found his way to Orthodox Judaism, he was a heavy metal rocker and self-described misfit. Today, he’s a father of three. “There’s a love of family, nature, and the land in bluegrass,” he says. “It’s wholesome.”
Jerry Wicentowski’s band also has non-Jewish members. Because Lucky Break has a largely Hebrew repertoire, he writes out lyrics phonetically. Still, it’s not easy to fit Hebrew lyrics to bluegrass melodies. Hebrew is a terse, sharp language; Hebrew twang is an oxymoron. “Structurally, it’s hard to put the stress on the right syllable,” Wicentowski says.
Religious restrictions also make it difficult for some Jewish bluegrass musicians to build a career. Judaism forbids playing musical instruments on Shabbat, which spans from sunset Friday evening through sunset Saturday evening. This is especially problematic in the summer months, when most of the bluegrass and old time festivals are held and the days are longer. Because of these restrictions, Lucky Break and The Zion Mountain Boys play most of their performances at Jewish venues and occasionally reach broader audiences.
Margot Leverett and the Klezmer Mountain Boys, a klezmer-bluegrass fusion band based in Manhattan, play various venues around New York City. Klezmer is the secular, festive music of Eastern European Jews, and its sound has much in common with fast-paced fiddle tunes of old-time music and the hard-driving banjo of bluegrass. Margot Leverett, the band’s clarinetist, calls it “dancing music.” It’s hard to feel unhappy—or sit still—when listening to a live performance. But Hassidic niguns and old-time ballads that Leverett also loves, share a darker connection.
Historically, she says, “Jews and Southern Appalachian people have a lot in common. They’ve been driven out of their homes, have lived hard lives, and have used music for strength.” Leverett’s vibrant blue eyes tear up when she talks about the displacement that poor Southerners experienced in the 1920s, when they were forced to leave their homes and seek out work in the cities. “There’s the same homesickness in Jewish folk songs,” she says.
“American life allows different groups to be inspired and influenced by one another,” Wicentowski says. “This isn’t an uncommon thing in American experience and it’s not uncommon in the Jewish experience,” he adds. “Jews have done this wherever we’ve gone over the millennium.”
This Passover, my friend Lester Feder sat at the head of his family’s Seder table, strumming away on his banjo and belting out Hebrew lyrics with a big-voiced Appalachian twang. As a bluegrass and old-time musician myself, I was familiar with Lester’s wailing sound. As a Jew, I’d been to countless Seders. But the transposition of these traditions was like nothing I’d ever imagined.
For Feder, a Northern Virginia native, fusing his American identity with his religious heritage through music was a natural development. “I feel far more connected to the old time traditions of the upper South than the Ashkenazi traditions of Eastern Europe,” he said. “I wanted to make a Seder that was my own.”
“Jewgrass,” as this fusion is sometimes called, is played by a diverse group of old-time and bluegrass musicians. Among them are New York City Jews who grew up during the 1960s folk revival, orthodox Jews who sing Hebrew prayers set to bluegrass melodies and klezmer musicians who infuse their music with Appalachian fiddle tunes. These lovers of the banjo, the fiddle and the mandolin have found a uniquely American way to express their Jewish cultural identity and religious faith.
Feder, who holds a doctorate in musicology from the University of California, Los Angeles, says African slaves brought the banjo to the United States and with it, the frailing style (banjo strings are brushed downward with the back of the fingers or nails) associated with old-time music. Old-time, the precursor to bluegrass, developed in America during the 19th and early 20th centuries, incorporating the musical traditions of African-American, Irish, English and Scottish communities. Bluegrass emerged in the 1930s when Kentucky native Bill Monroe fused old-time music with blues and jazz influences to create a new sound. Unlike old-time, which emphasizes the fiddle and melody, bluegrass music’s distinctive features are instrumental solos and bluegrass banjo—a hard-driving style in which the player picks with three fingers.
Over time, this music became associated with a romanticized notion of rural America: people sitting on their back porches strumming the banjo, living “authentic” country lives. Jews were drawn to this music, partly because of the romanticized ideal. “Jews are a religious minority in largely Christian country,” Feder says. “Southern music has been a way for them to connect to that mainstream American identity.”
Bluegrass lyrics celebrate country living, but many of the people singing them are city folk. Jerry Wicentowski grew up in Brooklyn in the 1960s and fell in love with bluegrass during the folk revival. For religious Jews like Wicentowski, there was a rebellious element to being a fan of the music. Bluegrass became his escape. During the week, he studied at an insular yeshiva; on the weekends he played guitar in Washington Square Park.
After earning a Master’s degree in Hebrew and Semitic Studies and then drifting away from Judaism, a series of life events led Wicentowski to return to religion. Eventually, he found himself a man with two strong identities: a Jew and a bluegrass musician. He began to fuse the two. Wicentowski worked on an album with mandolin virtuoso Andy Statman called “Shabbos in Nashville,” which featured Jewish songs in the style of 1950s bluegrass. Later, he founded his own band, Lucky Break. The Minnesota-based quartet bills itself as “uniquely American, uniquely Jewish,” by mixing “the stark beauty of Appalachian music with Shabbat Z’mirot,” or Sabbath songs.
Robbie Ludwick, a Hassidic Jew from Silver Spring, Maryland, is the only Jew in his current band, The Zion Mountain Boys. Ludwick lives in an orthodox community, davens daily and spends most of his free time playing the mandolin. His band mates have impressive independent music careers but are drawn to the unique sound of Ludwick’s music—songs that blend traditional bluegrass with Hassidic melodies called niguns.
Ludwick connects with the themes of redemption, faith, and fortitude expressed in Southern music. Before Ludwick found his way to Orthodox Judaism, he was a heavy metal rocker and self-described misfit. Today, he’s a father of three. “There’s a love of family, nature, and the land in bluegrass,” he says. “It’s wholesome.”
Jerry Wicentowski’s band also has non-Jewish members. Because Lucky Break has a largely Hebrew repertoire, he writes out lyrics phonetically. Still, it’s not easy to fit Hebrew lyrics to bluegrass melodies. Hebrew is a terse, sharp language; Hebrew twang is an oxymoron. “Structurally, it’s hard to put the stress on the right syllable,” Wicentowski says.
Religious restrictions also make it difficult for some Jewish bluegrass musicians to build a career. Judaism forbids playing musical instruments on Shabbat, which spans from sunset Friday evening through sunset Saturday evening. This is especially problematic in the summer months, when most of the bluegrass and old time festivals are held and the days are longer. Because of these restrictions, Lucky Break and The Zion Mountain Boys play most of their performances at Jewish venues and occasionally reach broader audiences.
Margot Leverett and the Klezmer Mountain Boys, a klezmer-bluegrass fusion band based in Manhattan, play various venues around New York City. Klezmer is the secular, festive music of Eastern European Jews, and its sound has much in common with fast-paced fiddle tunes of old-time music and the hard-driving banjo of bluegrass. Margot Leverett, the band’s clarinetist, calls it “dancing music.” It’s hard to feel unhappy—or sit still—when listening to a live performance. But Hassidic niguns and old-time ballads that Leverett also loves, share a darker connection.
Historically, she says, “Jews and Southern Appalachian people have a lot in common. They’ve been driven out of their homes, have lived hard lives, and have used music for strength.” Leverett’s vibrant blue eyes tear up when she talks about the displacement that poor Southerners experienced in the 1920s, when they were forced to leave their homes and seek out work in the cities. “There’s the same homesickness in Jewish folk songs,” she says.
“American life allows different groups to be inspired and influenced by one another,” Wicentowski says. “This isn’t an uncommon thing in American experience and it’s not uncommon in the Jewish experience,” he adds. “Jews have done this wherever we’ve gone over the millennium.”
Read more: http://www.smithsonianmag.com/arts-cult ... z16V2uhSe3Skip
C'est un peu long à lire , c'est en anglais...mais ça vaut le détour !
( Il y a d'autres exemples ds le genre ......)
Jewish Bluegrass
Lovers of the banjo, fiddle and mandolin blend cultural identity and religious faith to create a uniquely American sound
By Jen Miller
Smithsonian.com, September 24, 2009
Article Tools
Font
Share
Yahoo! Buzz
Digg
Comments
StumbleUpon
RSS
Related Topics
Folk
Sound Recordings
Judaism
Video Gallery
High Lonesome Honga
Margot Leverett and the Klezmer Mountain Boys blend bluegrass and klezmer during a performance in New York City
Audio Gallery
Kee Eshmerah Shabbat
Lucky Break combines Appalachian music with Shabbat Z'mirot (Sabbath songs)
More from Smithsonian.com
•Blue Ridge BluegrassThis Passover, my friend Lester Feder sat at the head of his family’s Seder table, strumming away on his banjo and belting out Hebrew lyrics with a big-voiced Appalachian twang. As a bluegrass and old-time musician myself, I was familiar with Lester’s wailing sound. As a Jew, I’d been to countless Seders. But the transposition of these traditions was like nothing I’d ever imagined.
For Feder, a Northern Virginia native, fusing his American identity with his religious heritage through music was a natural development. “I feel far more connected to the old time traditions of the upper South than the Ashkenazi traditions of Eastern Europe,” he said. “I wanted to make a Seder that was my own.”
“Jewgrass,” as this fusion is sometimes called, is played by a diverse group of old-time and bluegrass musicians. Among them are New York City Jews who grew up during the 1960s folk revival, orthodox Jews who sing Hebrew prayers set to bluegrass melodies and klezmer musicians who infuse their music with Appalachian fiddle tunes. These lovers of the banjo, the fiddle and the mandolin have found a uniquely American way to express their Jewish cultural identity and religious faith.
Feder, who holds a doctorate in musicology from the University of California, Los Angeles, says African slaves brought the banjo to the United States and with it, the frailing style (banjo strings are brushed downward with the back of the fingers or nails) associated with old-time music. Old-time, the precursor to bluegrass, developed in America during the 19th and early 20th centuries, incorporating the musical traditions of African-American, Irish, English and Scottish communities. Bluegrass emerged in the 1930s when Kentucky native Bill Monroe fused old-time music with blues and jazz influences to create a new sound. Unlike old-time, which emphasizes the fiddle and melody, bluegrass music’s distinctive features are instrumental solos and bluegrass banjo—a hard-driving style in which the player picks with three fingers.
Over time, this music became associated with a romanticized notion of rural America: people sitting on their back porches strumming the banjo, living “authentic” country lives. Jews were drawn to this music, partly because of the romanticized ideal. “Jews are a religious minority in largely Christian country,” Feder says. “Southern music has been a way for them to connect to that mainstream American identity.”
Bluegrass lyrics celebrate country living, but many of the people singing them are city folk. Jerry Wicentowski grew up in Brooklyn in the 1960s and fell in love with bluegrass during the folk revival. For religious Jews like Wicentowski, there was a rebellious element to being a fan of the music. Bluegrass became his escape. During the week, he studied at an insular yeshiva; on the weekends he played guitar in Washington Square Park.
After earning a Master’s degree in Hebrew and Semitic Studies and then drifting away from Judaism, a series of life events led Wicentowski to return to religion. Eventually, he found himself a man with two strong identities: a Jew and a bluegrass musician. He began to fuse the two. Wicentowski worked on an album with mandolin virtuoso Andy Statman called “Shabbos in Nashville,” which featured Jewish songs in the style of 1950s bluegrass. Later, he founded his own band, Lucky Break. The Minnesota-based quartet bills itself as “uniquely American, uniquely Jewish,” by mixing “the stark beauty of Appalachian music with Shabbat Z’mirot,” or Sabbath songs.
Robbie Ludwick, a Hassidic Jew from Silver Spring, Maryland, is the only Jew in his current band, The Zion Mountain Boys. Ludwick lives in an orthodox community, davens daily and spends most of his free time playing the mandolin. His band mates have impressive independent music careers but are drawn to the unique sound of Ludwick’s music—songs that blend traditional bluegrass with Hassidic melodies called niguns.
This Passover, my friend Lester Feder sat at the head of his family’s Seder table, strumming away on his banjo and belting out Hebrew lyrics with a big-voiced Appalachian twang. As a bluegrass and old-time musician myself, I was familiar with Lester’s wailing sound. As a Jew, I’d been to countless Seders. But the transposition of these traditions was like nothing I’d ever imagined.
For Feder, a Northern Virginia native, fusing his American identity with his religious heritage through music was a natural development. “I feel far more connected to the old time traditions of the upper South than the Ashkenazi traditions of Eastern Europe,” he said. “I wanted to make a Seder that was my own.”
“Jewgrass,” as this fusion is sometimes called, is played by a diverse group of old-time and bluegrass musicians. Among them are New York City Jews who grew up during the 1960s folk revival, orthodox Jews who sing Hebrew prayers set to bluegrass melodies and klezmer musicians who infuse their music with Appalachian fiddle tunes. These lovers of the banjo, the fiddle and the mandolin have found a uniquely American way to express their Jewish cultural identity and religious faith.
Feder, who holds a doctorate in musicology from the University of California, Los Angeles, says African slaves brought the banjo to the United States and with it, the frailing style (banjo strings are brushed downward with the back of the fingers or nails) associated with old-time music. Old-time, the precursor to bluegrass, developed in America during the 19th and early 20th centuries, incorporating the musical traditions of African-American, Irish, English and Scottish communities. Bluegrass emerged in the 1930s when Kentucky native Bill Monroe fused old-time music with blues and jazz influences to create a new sound. Unlike old-time, which emphasizes the fiddle and melody, bluegrass music’s distinctive features are instrumental solos and bluegrass banjo—a hard-driving style in which the player picks with three fingers.
Over time, this music became associated with a romanticized notion of rural America: people sitting on their back porches strumming the banjo, living “authentic” country lives. Jews were drawn to this music, partly because of the romanticized ideal. “Jews are a religious minority in largely Christian country,” Feder says. “Southern music has been a way for them to connect to that mainstream American identity.”
Bluegrass lyrics celebrate country living, but many of the people singing them are city folk. Jerry Wicentowski grew up in Brooklyn in the 1960s and fell in love with bluegrass during the folk revival. For religious Jews like Wicentowski, there was a rebellious element to being a fan of the music. Bluegrass became his escape. During the week, he studied at an insular yeshiva; on the weekends he played guitar in Washington Square Park.
After earning a Master’s degree in Hebrew and Semitic Studies and then drifting away from Judaism, a series of life events led Wicentowski to return to religion. Eventually, he found himself a man with two strong identities: a Jew and a bluegrass musician. He began to fuse the two. Wicentowski worked on an album with mandolin virtuoso Andy Statman called “Shabbos in Nashville,” which featured Jewish songs in the style of 1950s bluegrass. Later, he founded his own band, Lucky Break. The Minnesota-based quartet bills itself as “uniquely American, uniquely Jewish,” by mixing “the stark beauty of Appalachian music with Shabbat Z’mirot,” or Sabbath songs.
Robbie Ludwick, a Hassidic Jew from Silver Spring, Maryland, is the only Jew in his current band, The Zion Mountain Boys. Ludwick lives in an orthodox community, davens daily and spends most of his free time playing the mandolin. His band mates have impressive independent music careers but are drawn to the unique sound of Ludwick’s music—songs that blend traditional bluegrass with Hassidic melodies called niguns.
Ludwick connects with the themes of redemption, faith, and fortitude expressed in Southern music. Before Ludwick found his way to Orthodox Judaism, he was a heavy metal rocker and self-described misfit. Today, he’s a father of three. “There’s a love of family, nature, and the land in bluegrass,” he says. “It’s wholesome.”
Jerry Wicentowski’s band also has non-Jewish members. Because Lucky Break has a largely Hebrew repertoire, he writes out lyrics phonetically. Still, it’s not easy to fit Hebrew lyrics to bluegrass melodies. Hebrew is a terse, sharp language; Hebrew twang is an oxymoron. “Structurally, it’s hard to put the stress on the right syllable,” Wicentowski says.
Religious restrictions also make it difficult for some Jewish bluegrass musicians to build a career. Judaism forbids playing musical instruments on Shabbat, which spans from sunset Friday evening through sunset Saturday evening. This is especially problematic in the summer months, when most of the bluegrass and old time festivals are held and the days are longer. Because of these restrictions, Lucky Break and The Zion Mountain Boys play most of their performances at Jewish venues and occasionally reach broader audiences.
Margot Leverett and the Klezmer Mountain Boys, a klezmer-bluegrass fusion band based in Manhattan, play various venues around New York City. Klezmer is the secular, festive music of Eastern European Jews, and its sound has much in common with fast-paced fiddle tunes of old-time music and the hard-driving banjo of bluegrass. Margot Leverett, the band’s clarinetist, calls it “dancing music.” It’s hard to feel unhappy—or sit still—when listening to a live performance. But Hassidic niguns and old-time ballads that Leverett also loves, share a darker connection.
Historically, she says, “Jews and Southern Appalachian people have a lot in common. They’ve been driven out of their homes, have lived hard lives, and have used music for strength.” Leverett’s vibrant blue eyes tear up when she talks about the displacement that poor Southerners experienced in the 1920s, when they were forced to leave their homes and seek out work in the cities. “There’s the same homesickness in Jewish folk songs,” she says.
“American life allows different groups to be inspired and influenced by one another,” Wicentowski says. “This isn’t an uncommon thing in American experience and it’s not uncommon in the Jewish experience,” he adds. “Jews have done this wherever we’ve gone over the millennium.”
Read more: http://www.smithsonianmag.com/arts-cult ... z16V2lUR00
(Page 2 of 2)
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•Blue Ridge BluegrassLudwick connects with the themes of redemption, faith, and fortitude expressed in Southern music. Before Ludwick found his way to Orthodox Judaism, he was a heavy metal rocker and self-described misfit. Today, he’s a father of three. “There’s a love of family, nature, and the land in bluegrass,” he says. “It’s wholesome.”
Jerry Wicentowski’s band also has non-Jewish members. Because Lucky Break has a largely Hebrew repertoire, he writes out lyrics phonetically. Still, it’s not easy to fit Hebrew lyrics to bluegrass melodies. Hebrew is a terse, sharp language; Hebrew twang is an oxymoron. “Structurally, it’s hard to put the stress on the right syllable,” Wicentowski says.
Religious restrictions also make it difficult for some Jewish bluegrass musicians to build a career. Judaism forbids playing musical instruments on Shabbat, which spans from sunset Friday evening through sunset Saturday evening. This is especially problematic in the summer months, when most of the bluegrass and old time festivals are held and the days are longer. Because of these restrictions, Lucky Break and The Zion Mountain Boys play most of their performances at Jewish venues and occasionally reach broader audiences.
Margot Leverett and the Klezmer Mountain Boys, a klezmer-bluegrass fusion band based in Manhattan, play various venues around New York City. Klezmer is the secular, festive music of Eastern European Jews, and its sound has much in common with fast-paced fiddle tunes of old-time music and the hard-driving banjo of bluegrass. Margot Leverett, the band’s clarinetist, calls it “dancing music.” It’s hard to feel unhappy—or sit still—when listening to a live performance. But Hassidic niguns and old-time ballads that Leverett also loves, share a darker connection.
Historically, she says, “Jews and Southern Appalachian people have a lot in common. They’ve been driven out of their homes, have lived hard lives, and have used music for strength.” Leverett’s vibrant blue eyes tear up when she talks about the displacement that poor Southerners experienced in the 1920s, when they were forced to leave their homes and seek out work in the cities. “There’s the same homesickness in Jewish folk songs,” she says.
“American life allows different groups to be inspired and influenced by one another,” Wicentowski says. “This isn’t an uncommon thing in American experience and it’s not uncommon in the Jewish experience,” he adds. “Jews have done this wherever we’ve gone over the millennium.”
This Passover, my friend Lester Feder sat at the head of his family’s Seder table, strumming away on his banjo and belting out Hebrew lyrics with a big-voiced Appalachian twang. As a bluegrass and old-time musician myself, I was familiar with Lester’s wailing sound. As a Jew, I’d been to countless Seders. But the transposition of these traditions was like nothing I’d ever imagined.
For Feder, a Northern Virginia native, fusing his American identity with his religious heritage through music was a natural development. “I feel far more connected to the old time traditions of the upper South than the Ashkenazi traditions of Eastern Europe,” he said. “I wanted to make a Seder that was my own.”
“Jewgrass,” as this fusion is sometimes called, is played by a diverse group of old-time and bluegrass musicians. Among them are New York City Jews who grew up during the 1960s folk revival, orthodox Jews who sing Hebrew prayers set to bluegrass melodies and klezmer musicians who infuse their music with Appalachian fiddle tunes. These lovers of the banjo, the fiddle and the mandolin have found a uniquely American way to express their Jewish cultural identity and religious faith.
Feder, who holds a doctorate in musicology from the University of California, Los Angeles, says African slaves brought the banjo to the United States and with it, the frailing style (banjo strings are brushed downward with the back of the fingers or nails) associated with old-time music. Old-time, the precursor to bluegrass, developed in America during the 19th and early 20th centuries, incorporating the musical traditions of African-American, Irish, English and Scottish communities. Bluegrass emerged in the 1930s when Kentucky native Bill Monroe fused old-time music with blues and jazz influences to create a new sound. Unlike old-time, which emphasizes the fiddle and melody, bluegrass music’s distinctive features are instrumental solos and bluegrass banjo—a hard-driving style in which the player picks with three fingers.
Over time, this music became associated with a romanticized notion of rural America: people sitting on their back porches strumming the banjo, living “authentic” country lives. Jews were drawn to this music, partly because of the romanticized ideal. “Jews are a religious minority in largely Christian country,” Feder says. “Southern music has been a way for them to connect to that mainstream American identity.”
Bluegrass lyrics celebrate country living, but many of the people singing them are city folk. Jerry Wicentowski grew up in Brooklyn in the 1960s and fell in love with bluegrass during the folk revival. For religious Jews like Wicentowski, there was a rebellious element to being a fan of the music. Bluegrass became his escape. During the week, he studied at an insular yeshiva; on the weekends he played guitar in Washington Square Park.
After earning a Master’s degree in Hebrew and Semitic Studies and then drifting away from Judaism, a series of life events led Wicentowski to return to religion. Eventually, he found himself a man with two strong identities: a Jew and a bluegrass musician. He began to fuse the two. Wicentowski worked on an album with mandolin virtuoso Andy Statman called “Shabbos in Nashville,” which featured Jewish songs in the style of 1950s bluegrass. Later, he founded his own band, Lucky Break. The Minnesota-based quartet bills itself as “uniquely American, uniquely Jewish,” by mixing “the stark beauty of Appalachian music with Shabbat Z’mirot,” or Sabbath songs.
Robbie Ludwick, a Hassidic Jew from Silver Spring, Maryland, is the only Jew in his current band, The Zion Mountain Boys. Ludwick lives in an orthodox community, davens daily and spends most of his free time playing the mandolin. His band mates have impressive independent music careers but are drawn to the unique sound of Ludwick’s music—songs that blend traditional bluegrass with Hassidic melodies called niguns.
Ludwick connects with the themes of redemption, faith, and fortitude expressed in Southern music. Before Ludwick found his way to Orthodox Judaism, he was a heavy metal rocker and self-described misfit. Today, he’s a father of three. “There’s a love of family, nature, and the land in bluegrass,” he says. “It’s wholesome.”
Jerry Wicentowski’s band also has non-Jewish members. Because Lucky Break has a largely Hebrew repertoire, he writes out lyrics phonetically. Still, it’s not easy to fit Hebrew lyrics to bluegrass melodies. Hebrew is a terse, sharp language; Hebrew twang is an oxymoron. “Structurally, it’s hard to put the stress on the right syllable,” Wicentowski says.
Religious restrictions also make it difficult for some Jewish bluegrass musicians to build a career. Judaism forbids playing musical instruments on Shabbat, which spans from sunset Friday evening through sunset Saturday evening. This is especially problematic in the summer months, when most of the bluegrass and old time festivals are held and the days are longer. Because of these restrictions, Lucky Break and The Zion Mountain Boys play most of their performances at Jewish venues and occasionally reach broader audiences.
Margot Leverett and the Klezmer Mountain Boys, a klezmer-bluegrass fusion band based in Manhattan, play various venues around New York City. Klezmer is the secular, festive music of Eastern European Jews, and its sound has much in common with fast-paced fiddle tunes of old-time music and the hard-driving banjo of bluegrass. Margot Leverett, the band’s clarinetist, calls it “dancing music.” It’s hard to feel unhappy—or sit still—when listening to a live performance. But Hassidic niguns and old-time ballads that Leverett also loves, share a darker connection.
Historically, she says, “Jews and Southern Appalachian people have a lot in common. They’ve been driven out of their homes, have lived hard lives, and have used music for strength.” Leverett’s vibrant blue eyes tear up when she talks about the displacement that poor Southerners experienced in the 1920s, when they were forced to leave their homes and seek out work in the cities. “There’s the same homesickness in Jewish folk songs,” she says.
“American life allows different groups to be inspired and influenced by one another,” Wicentowski says. “This isn’t an uncommon thing in American experience and it’s not uncommon in the Jewish experience,” he adds. “Jews have done this wherever we’ve gone over the millennium.”
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If you funk with me , I'll funk with you !
-
the fifth child
- Messages : 365
- Inscription : mar. nov. 11, 2008 8:13 am
Pour "The Fith Child"...la kippa à la 2ème case mais pas à partir du vendredi car pas de bluegrass pendant Shabbatt!.....Le Jerry dont il est question ds l'article a joué pendant un bout de temps avec Beth aux USA ....pas facile de tourner avec lui car à partir du vendredi , il ne pouvait pas faire de concerts.....
Pour JeePee.....hey, ce n'est pas moi qui suit à l'origine de l'article !! ...et puis le bluegrassment correct n'est pas une de mes préoccupations essentielles.....alors ceux que ça "énerve" ben tant pis......
Pour anectode...Bill (père ou pair /impair ...du bluegrass ) a tout de même (pour moi) été le découvreur/révélateur...de toute un lignée de musiciens fabuleux qui ont fait un passage plus ou moins long au sein des fameux bluegrassboys...école redoutable et qui ont par la suite pris leur envol , ont mûri leur propre style, et mené des carrières remarquables -et n'ont jamais manqué d'en remercier le Bill en question, la liste est longue......Vous les connaissez tous....je ne vais pas les citer.......en cela il a été sans doute le Bluegrass Father de ces gars-là..s'il n'a pas été le Father of Bluegrass.......
Personnellement....ça m'est égal...en tout cas qd on rencontre certaines des pointures américaines qui l'ont cotoyé d'une manière ou d'une autre, tous lui sont reconnaissants de quelquechose.....alors le reste......
J'ajouterai ceci , son style n'est pas vraiment ma "cup of tea"...ceux qui me connaissent le savent, néanmoins j'ai eu la chance de le rencontrer deux fois, et je dois dire que le bonhomme ne laisse pas indifférent...une aura, une présence...? bref...un personnage...et puis quoiqu'on en dise il a écrit tout de même un paquet de chansons qui sont des classiques....
Pour terminer, une petite histoire...racontée par Mark Hembry (qui fut le bassiste de NBB -Nashville Bluegrass Band - après avoir quitté son job au sein des Bluegrass Boys de Bill justement ) ...
Après un concert et une nuit de "party" assez heavy aucours de laquelle il avait abusé de différentes boissons alcoolisées et de cigarettes qui font rire....il fut réveillé par des coups fort et répétés sur la porte de sa chambre...
Bill:Mark , we're off for breakfast , are you coming?
Mark: no thanks , I'dont feel like eating...
Bill: Son, get some rest you are wasted!!!
Mark, soulagé de ne pas avoir de remontrance retourne se coucher ( le Patron était assez inflexible sur la discipline de ses Boys! ).....
Quelques minutes plus tard (ou du moins ce qui lui paru quelques minutes dans son sommeil semi-comateux)......nouveaux coups à la porte, Mark se traine hors du lit...ouvre la porte...
Bill sourire aux lèvres : We're Back !!
Ok, vous pouvez ne pas trouver ça drôle....mais raconté par Mark , ça vaut le coup.....et moi j'aime bien!!
Skip
Pour JeePee.....hey, ce n'est pas moi qui suit à l'origine de l'article !! ...et puis le bluegrassment correct n'est pas une de mes préoccupations essentielles.....alors ceux que ça "énerve" ben tant pis......
Pour anectode...Bill (père ou pair /impair ...du bluegrass ) a tout de même (pour moi) été le découvreur/révélateur...de toute un lignée de musiciens fabuleux qui ont fait un passage plus ou moins long au sein des fameux bluegrassboys...école redoutable et qui ont par la suite pris leur envol , ont mûri leur propre style, et mené des carrières remarquables -et n'ont jamais manqué d'en remercier le Bill en question, la liste est longue......Vous les connaissez tous....je ne vais pas les citer.......en cela il a été sans doute le Bluegrass Father de ces gars-là..s'il n'a pas été le Father of Bluegrass.......
Personnellement....ça m'est égal...en tout cas qd on rencontre certaines des pointures américaines qui l'ont cotoyé d'une manière ou d'une autre, tous lui sont reconnaissants de quelquechose.....alors le reste......
J'ajouterai ceci , son style n'est pas vraiment ma "cup of tea"...ceux qui me connaissent le savent, néanmoins j'ai eu la chance de le rencontrer deux fois, et je dois dire que le bonhomme ne laisse pas indifférent...une aura, une présence...? bref...un personnage...et puis quoiqu'on en dise il a écrit tout de même un paquet de chansons qui sont des classiques....
Pour terminer, une petite histoire...racontée par Mark Hembry (qui fut le bassiste de NBB -Nashville Bluegrass Band - après avoir quitté son job au sein des Bluegrass Boys de Bill justement ) ...
Après un concert et une nuit de "party" assez heavy aucours de laquelle il avait abusé de différentes boissons alcoolisées et de cigarettes qui font rire....il fut réveillé par des coups fort et répétés sur la porte de sa chambre...
Bill:Mark , we're off for breakfast , are you coming?
Mark: no thanks , I'dont feel like eating...
Bill: Son, get some rest you are wasted!!!
Mark, soulagé de ne pas avoir de remontrance retourne se coucher ( le Patron était assez inflexible sur la discipline de ses Boys! ).....
Quelques minutes plus tard (ou du moins ce qui lui paru quelques minutes dans son sommeil semi-comateux)......nouveaux coups à la porte, Mark se traine hors du lit...ouvre la porte...
Bill sourire aux lèvres : We're Back !!
Ok, vous pouvez ne pas trouver ça drôle....mais raconté par Mark , ça vaut le coup.....et moi j'aime bien!!
Skip
If you funk with me , I'll funk with you !
Moi non plus et je ne comprends pas toujours très bien à quoi il fait allusion. Bon, c'est vrai que je ne suis pas finaud non plus, la preuve j'ai toujours pas compris pourquoi il y a deux fautes d'orthographe sur son étiquette d'eau minérale, par ailleurs bien imitée ( surtout les trois cht'is sommets bleus). C'est bien de l'eau d'Evian, non ? Ou alors, c'est pas de l'eau ?skip a écrit : Pour JeePee.....hey, ce n'est pas moi qui suit à l'origine de l'article !! ...et puis le bluegrassment correct n'est pas une de mes préoccupations essentielles.....alors ceux que ça "énerve" ben tant pis......
Bluegrassement correct, ça n'existe pas dans la pratique. Et ça n'aurait d'ailleurs pas de raison d'exister pour une musique populaire qui évolue par définition.
On ne saurait mieux dire. C'est certainement l'aspect le plus intéressant du personnage et de son action pour populariser/ faire vivre (et vivre de) cette musique. Ceci étant, la demande était là dès le départ puisqu'il avait un show radiodiffusé depuis le milieu des années 30. Don Reno s'était d'ailleurs porté candidat en 1943 de mémoire et n'avait pas pu donner suite à cause de son engagement dans l'armée. Je pense aussi que la place des musiciens du groupe original de 1946 aura toujours été l'objet d'une sorte de convoitise qui ne pouvait que s'accroître par le nombre de sélectionnés et la durée et du groupe et du style...et le turnover important. La quasi totalité des musiciens majeurs Bluegrass des années 1950-80 y est effectivement passé.skip a écrit : Pour anectode...Bill (père ou pair /impair ...du bluegrass ) a tout de même (pour moi) été le découvreur/révélateur...de toute un lignée de musiciens fabuleux qui ont fait un passage plus ou moins long au sein des fameux bluegrassboys...école redoutable et qui ont par la suite pris leur envol , ont mûri leur propre style, et mené des carrières remarquables -et n'ont jamais manqué d'en remercier le Bill en question, la liste est longue......Vous les connaissez tous....je ne vais pas les citer.......en cela il a été sans doute le Bluegrass Father de ces gars-là..s'il n'a pas été le Father of Bluegrass.......
S'ils le disent tous, c'est que c'est vrai. Point.skip a écrit : Personnellement....ça m'est égal...en tout cas qd on rencontre certaines des pointures américaines qui l'ont cotoyé d'une manière ou d'une autre, tous lui sont reconnaissants de quelquechose.....alors le reste......
Moi j'aime bien, et j'en écoute assez régulièrement. Il y a au moins une vingtaine de titres qui survivront très longtemps. J'ai même acheté le double DVD avec Sam Bush en interviewer, intéressant. Ce qui me dérange c'est qu'avec un tel bilan, ce n'était pas utile de forger une légende bancale alors que la réalité était bien suffisante pour assurer l'aura authentique du personnage.skip a écrit : J'ajouterai ceci , son style n'est pas vraiment ma "cup of tea"...ceux qui me connaissent le savent, néanmoins j'ai eu la chance de le rencontrer deux fois, et je dois dire que le bonhomme ne laisse pas indifférent...une aura, une présence...? bref...un personnage...et puis quoiqu'on en dise il a écrit tout de même un paquet de chansons qui sont des classiques....
Ah, je pense que la perception des choses auraient été différente pour Bill s'il avait fait de même.skip a écrit : Pour terminer, une petite histoire...racontée par Mark Hembry (qui fut le bassiste de NBB -Nashville Bluegrass Band - après avoir quitté son job au sein des Bluegrass Boys de Bill justement ) ...
Après un concert et une nuit de "party" assez heavy aucours de laquelle il avait abusé de différentes boissons alcoolisées et de cigarettes qui font rire...
Certainement une occasion ratée, pour le coup il nous aurait sûrement inventé le reggrass.
Surtout qu'il avait largement le temps (voir plus bas)...
Dernière modification par PierreO le lun. nov. 29, 2010 4:02 am, modifié 5 fois.
Très drôle en tout cas , surtout le paragraphe complet :JeePee a écrit :Tu le fais exprès ?skip a écrit :Bluegrass emerged in the 1930s when Kentucky native Bill Monroe fused old-time music with blues and jazz influences to create a new sound.
Tu vas encore nous l'énerver !
Un doctorat de musicologie et le bluegrass apparaît avec 15 ans d'avance, avec en prime une explication de qualité qui ne dépareille pas l'ensemble."Feder, who holds a doctorate in musicology from the University of California, Los Angeles, says African slaves brought the banjo to the United States and with it, the frailing style (banjo strings are brushed downward with the back of the fingers or nails) associated with old-time music. Old-time, the precursor to bluegrass, developed in America during the 19th and early 20th centuries, incorporating the musical traditions of African-American, Irish, English and Scottish communities. Bluegrass emerged in the 1930s when Kentucky native Bill Monroe fused old-time music with blues and jazz influences to create a new sound. Unlike old-time, which emphasizes the fiddle and melody, bluegrass music’s distinctive features are instrumental solos and bluegrass banjo—a hard-driving style in which the player picks with three fingers. "
Vous voyez maintenant pourquoi, les enfants, quand on vous dit que de faire des études, ça fait gagner énormément de temps par la suite ?