A month ago, on the first Saturday of August, I was at the bluegrass festival of La Roche-sur-Foron in France when I received an email from Rick Cornish with this short but perfectly clear message: “Welcome column, please.” Oh, soot! I had gone to France directly after a month-long summer school for Czech language in Prague and during that month the “normal world” had gradually faded to the background. In La Roche, I was put straight to work: my band Red Herring performed in the front of a cafe in the village a few hours after my plane landed, and the next day we played on the festival stage. I say work, but at festivals like these it doesn’t feel like that. At the cafe, an elaborate lunch (including excellent local red wine) was provided, we wanted for nothing all weekend, and in general the easy-going atmosphere among the festival-goers and volunteerd (including basically all the inhabitants of the village), the idylic Alpine surroundings and the nice weather did their magic to soothe my pain of having to leave the Czech Republic, where I was starting to feel at home. This feeling was enhanced even more by the abundance of Czech and Slovak bluegrass musicians at the festival. Monogram, the band who won the title #1 European Bluegrass Band at the 2015 EWOB festival in Voorthuizen (the Netherlands), gave a dazzling set. It was already an excellent band when they had Jakub Racek on lead vocals, but they found a very worthy successor in Jindra Vinkler.
[Fun fact: almost all Czech surnames have meanings, which can be funny for foreigners who are learning Czech. For example, Monogram is like a fruit salad with the brothers Zdenek and Jaromír Jahoda –meaning “strawberry”- on banjo and mandolin, and Pepa Malina –meaning “raspberry”- on fiddle.]
On Saturday night, when we went to the musicians’s accomodation after the festival program, we were pleasantly surprised to find basically all the best Czech and Slovak players of the bands Monorgram, East-West, G-Runs ’n Roses, Jumper Cables, Bill Faster and Heartbeats sitting in the downstairs hall for a mega-jam. Stuffing too many virtuoso payers in one room (with each of them stuffing a zillion notes in a solo) is not everybody’s cup of tea; I’ve heard a particular Bay area banjo player refer to this type of jam as “note salad.” He also remarked that he was surprised to see that none of them showed any sign of appreciation for the support I was giving on the bass, or even acknowledge I was there. I personally have to say that while I would always prefer a solo with a strong melody and phrasing over a fast and complicated one (not saying the two cannot be combined…), I do like a bit of note salad in a jam every once in a while, especially when the Czechs and Slovaks do it. Maybe it’s because I will never master my instruments like them and I am in awe and admiration of their dedication and focus. When I play bass with them, what I do is ridiculously simple compared to what they do (or what some of the Czech and Slovak bass players can do…), but I feel humbled to be a part of their circle and I love the challenge of having to keep the beat tight and the energy up. But also, I have known these guys for some years, and Czechs and Slovaks are generally very modest and down-to-earth people. The fact that they don’t shower you with smiles and compliments doesn’t mean they don’t appreciate you. If you put your antennae out and communicate through the music, you can feel it.
