Saturday Night at the Carter Family Fold

Posted by Kelly S. Osato, May 30, 2015 08:20pm | Post a Comment
carter family fold hiltons virginia appalachia mountain old time country bluegrass venue A.P.Sara Maybelle music history johnny cash

Deep in the hollows of Southwestern Virginia, near the Tennessee border and about thirty miles or so from any kind of reliable cellular signal, you'll find a low wooden structure pitched into a sloping hillside that faces an unbroken wood, settled at the end of endlessly snaking mountain back-roads that, depending upon your approach, terminate in two right turns around a rusted out passenger railcar resembling a forsaken submarine (what with it's porthole-like windows) swamped by high country grasses. This is Hiltons, Virginia and the venue is the Carter Family Fold, or the Carter Fold, or the fully realized results of local efforts to preserve and present bluegrass and old time country music in honor of traditional American folk pioneers, The Carter Family (specifically A.P. Carter, his wife Sara, and her sister/his brother's wife Maybelle). You'll know you've arrived when clusters of casually parked cars come into view, for that's how I found out for myself last Saturday night, after nearly an hours' passage through pastoral outlands and more than one are we there yet? Here follows a bit of a personal narrative of that night, garnished with a few of the photos I managed to capture.

carter family fold venue sign A.P. Sara Maybelle hiltons virginia bluegrass country music history preservation hall dance flat footin tappping appalachian american folk traditional old time music
Before stetting foot into the Fold itself, the frantic meter of "Cotton Eye Joe" became more discernible with every step I took, the muffled twangs and drawls of banjo and fiddle battling for supremacy in the space between verse and chorus only just audible behind the front entrance. Once through the door, another sound altogether becomes jarringly apparent: the arrhythmic clatter of untold multitudes of tap shoes scuffing up a hard surface like lazy rain drizzling hot fryolator oil. The cacophony is hypnotizing. Inside, at the ticket booth, my father proceeds to pay the price of admission for all us kin and then some, and brooks no refusals as usual. I pay a smidge extra for a Carter Family placard fan for good measure - no telling what the weather's like all the way inside.

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New 12" Releases at Amoeba Hollywood 4/16 - Miles, Virginia, Alexander Lewis, Carlos Nilmmns, Desolate, Zed Bias and more!

Posted by Oliver / Matt / Jordan, April 17, 2013 03:14pm | Post a Comment

Miles - Fainted HeartedMiles

Faint Hearted

Modern Love

Expansive debut full-length statement from Miles (aka MLZ, half of Demdike Stare and Pendle Coven). This album builds on Miles Whittaker's dub techno pedigree, but also pulls liberally from jungle, corroded big room techno and all manner of experiment esoterica. Opener "Lebensform" pits dub atmospheres against a massive breakbeat recalling a more blown-out version of Pan Sonic's transportative music. By contrast, the meditative "Sense Data" is a drone in search of a drop that eventually comes not with drums, but dubby, plaintive chords. While "Rejoice" recalls AFX's lucid ambient work, "Queuing" takes the beatless formula down into the dungeon, it's reverbed darkness blackened  by sheet metal samples. "Loran Dreams" takes things out on a positive, new-age note, its pristine arpeggios recalling Steve Moore or Ricardo Donoso. For travellers.

Buy Faint Hearted


Virginia - Loch and HillVirginia

Loch and Hill

Ostgut Ton

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Ch-ch-changes: thoughts on music, election Day '08

Posted by Kelly S. Osato, November 8, 2008 01:19pm | Post a Comment
Virginia's state bird the cardinal
Tuesday was tough. I woke up early, voted without having to wait in line (my polling place has always been quiet) and spent the bulk of the day thereafter feeling like I had been physically rendered into ragged shreds of mixed emotions that mainly resembled a patchwork of grief. Being confined to the registers at work, restless, while polls across the country closed at their designated times, the ague that wracked my body and mind increased as the day sank heavily into night. On my dinner break things started looking up; I spent the hour with a politically like-minded coworker (and dear friend) at a local sports bar so decorated with festive balloons, streamers and flat-screen televisions that the effort needed to focus on what might really constitute "news" distracted my mind away from any results I didn't want to see, but nevertheless felt somewhat prepared to receive. When it was projected that my home state of Virginia was going to "go red," as red as a Virginia cardinal, my nerves slackened into an uncomfortable numbness.

Given the option to leave work early, I fled and hopped a bus to meet up with some friends at a bar I'd never been to or heard of. Trying to find a place unknown on such a night was absolutely frustrating and just when I was knitting my brow in consternation, bent over my cellphone feverishly texting queries to inebriated friends, a girl at the front of the bus began to squeal like a steam leak. Suddenly strangers were hugging, kissing and high-fiving me, dancing and falling all over each other on a crowded, careening Haight street bus with a horn-happy driver at the wheel. Images alike to those photos taken during the block parties that erupted at the end of World War II flashed to life in front of me and, maybe for the first time in my life, I felt the news. Everyone here would remember this night, the night the streets of San Francisco went wild for Barack Obama's victory and the end of eight years of  George W. Bush.

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