If you were up late enough Thursday night, you heard, but most of us awoke Friday morning to the sad news that Ralph Stanley had died.
While we knew that Ralph, at the age of 89, had been fighting illness for a while, the news was still a huge blow. And if you’re reading this column and you’re on this web site, you already know the magnitude of this man and the influence he had on bluegrass and traditional American music.
I only saw Ralph perform live three times. Twice at large festivals, and the very first time at a small club in Berkeley. He stayed a while after the show to sign merchandise, as I’m sure he had done thousands of other times. I cherish my signed copy of Clinch Mountain Country (1998).
About this album I also remember being naïvely impressed that Ralph had gotten all of these big names to play on his record. George Jones, Junior Brown, Bob Dylan, Laurie Lewis, Gillian Welch, Dwight Yoakam, Alison Krauss, Marty Stuart, Porter Wagnoer, and many more. But really, it was the other way around: all of them had come to play and sing with Ralph. Sure, Clinch Mountain Country is special to me because it was my first record of his. But also because I see it as a testament of the respect and admiration that Ralph had gained over the decades.
Often, it’s too easy to use the term bluegrass to describe a particular style of music. “If there’s a banjo, it must be bluegrass, right?” And when one talks of the biggest names in the genre, always at the top of the list are The Big Three: Bill Monroe, Flatt & Scruggs, and the Stanley Brothers. But Ralph himself didn’t care for the term, bluegrass. He preferred to say he played in “the old time mountain style.” And while musicians came and went, old and new; and styles were in, then out, Ralph never strayed from the path he knew. He played in that purest tradition in which he was raised. And after brother Carter’s death in 1966, Ralph continued to shape his style.
By the early 1970s, Ralph was still going strong. My favorite compilation (at the moment) is one I don’t even own! I just continue to borrow it from my good friend and neighbor, Ben Jacobs. It’s a collection on Rebel Records of eight different releases by Ralph Stanley and the Clinch Mountain Boys from the period of 1971 to 1973. The Rebel box set is a monster of a treasure trove: several re-dos of old classics that Ralph and Carter had recorded years earlier, new originals of the period, live cuts from a 1971 tour in Japan, and of course, some amazing gospel. The playing is perfectly raw. The singing is otherworldly. As writer and bluegrass DJ Bill Vernon wrote at the time in Muleskinner News: “At a time when at least some of the all-time great traditional bluegrass performers seem to be gradually slipping away from their prime, Ralph Stanley’s music is better than ever.”
So deep a well is the music of Carter and Ralph Stanley. Years ago, when I was still quite new to festival and jam culture, I didn’t quite realize just how vast the Stanleys’ canon was. But over time, I became aware. Little by little, I got pulled into the stream; almost as if being baptized. Each year I would return from Grass Valley with another round of songs that were new to me. Barely legible in the margins of my folded notes was often just one word: Stanleys.
I know that at this very moment, many music lovers around the world are playing or listening to the music of Ralph Stanley – and have been for the last few days. There are so many great songs to quote, but at this moment, I prefer one called “Lord, I’m Coming Home,” an old hymn written at a camp meeting in the 1890s. With Ralph soaring high on the harmony above brother Carter, the song begins with a short, moving chorus.
Coming home, coming home
Nevermore to roam
Open wide Thine arms of love
Lord, I’m coming home.
When he was alive, little Ralph Stanley of Big Spraddle Creek, Virginia grew to be larger than life. Now he is home.
