Hey Friends
The 1960s country song “I’ve Been Everywhere,” made popular by Hank Snow, Johnny Cash and Lynn Anderson among others, rattles off destinations across the US and North America with tongue twister speed in one of the most entertaining geography lessons of music history. I’m always impressed when I hear somebody sing it on Lower Broadway because it takes a special kind of commitment. I recently learned that the song originated in Australia with songwriter Geoff Mack in 1959. Its verses were traffic jams of Aussie locales like Darwin, Gin Gin, Deniliquin, Muckadilla, Wallumbilla, Boggabilla, and Kumbarilla. Then Mack’s song publisher pitched it to Hank Snow (himself a border crosser as a Canadian-American) who cut it after Mack re-wrote it with places a US audience would understand, from Bangor to Bakersfield. It’s been subsequently adapted for New Zealand, Great Britain, Ireland and Texas. Chuck Mead sang it as “I Ain’t Been Nowhere” during the 2020 lockdown.
I bring this up because I feel like I’ve been everywhere (man) during the past six weeks with a tempo more on-the-go than my usual. Every trip and twist and turn has been good for my heart, my mind and my arsenal of stuff to think about in my musical professional life. I’ll offer a quick recap with links when said travels became fodder for journalism.
It started Memorial Day weekend, as Summer stories should, when my family gathered near Chapel Hill, NC to celebrate my father’s 90th birthday. Clark and Karen are both well and lively I’m so happy to say. The Havighurst/Cooke clan (my sister’s family) makes for a small but loving and loyal unit, and it was so grand to be with everyone for an intense 48 hours. One of the parties overlapped with the Indianapolis 500, so I opted to go on a full news blackout for 24 hours and watched after flying home on Labor Day Monday via streaming magic without any awareness that in the end, my guy Josef Newgarden would win his first Indy 500, securing him a place in racing history. He’s a two-time champion now, but the 500 had eluded him (as it does most everyone) until now. I feel a special kind of fandom because Newgarden is from Nashville, and I wrote one of my favorite stories ever about him as a cover for the Nashville Scene a few years ago. I knew his day would come.
Then it was off to Chicago with tickets in hand to join my 30-year college-dorm best friends to see Dead & Co. at, of all places, my beloved Wrigley Field. That led to this essay/review, which I hope you’ll read since hardly anybody did when I posted it on the Substack in May!
I hit two extremely different festivals in two consecutive weekends. My pal Tom arranged a car for a day trip to Bonnaroo where I’d not been in many years. The highlight was Tyler Childers who supplemented his band with a big string and horn section to put on a fiery holy-roller set of songs from his apparently sincere gospel album Can I Take My Hounds To Heaven? of last year. Childers keeps himself and all of us on our toes, and while I wish he’d be more available to the media, I appreciate his shapeshifting idea-driven career and his power as a lyricist.
Then it was more of a plunge as I attended the 20th anniversary edition of ROMP, the annual fund-raiser festival by and for the Bluegrass Music Hall of Fame in Owensboro, KY. I wrote that event’s story up for WMOT, but what I didn’t go into there was a surprise experience with my musical hero Peter Rowan. I was planning to help my friend Cliff interview the 81-year-old musical shaman for the Hall of Fame’s newly announced exhibit about Jerry Garcia’s bluegrass pursuits, especially the seminal album Old And In The Way of 1975. Then we got word that Rowan needed a ride from the Nashville airport to Owensboro, and I volunteered. The pickup went smoothly to my relief, and I cherished our long conversation as we drove north. Then we settled him at his hotel and went to dinner overlooking the Ohio River before heading to the festival to see Molly Tuttle perform. I admire Rowan’s eclectic musical mind and his indelible stamp on roots music so much, as I wrote last year when he released his latest album. His own performance at ROMP was powerful and assured, and I hung on every note during a lovely sunset.
That set up a rather uncanny coincidental experience that took place just two weeks later. Peter Rowan is one of only two surviving members of the Old And In The Way band, because Jerry Garcia, fiddler Vassar Clements and bassist John Kahn have passed on. The other living alum is mandolinist David “Dawg” Grisman, one of the most important acoustic musicians and composers ever and as of last week one of the newest inductees in the Bluegrass Music Hall of Fame. I had made a plan months ago for a long delayed visit to my friends’ relatively new home near Port Townsend, WA on the Olympic Peninsula. Besides being gorgeous country with great culture, it’s also where David Grisman lives. Through a friend who made a warm introduction, I was able to spend a couple of hours with Dawg on the day before my flight home. I taped our conversation and while it was not very high fidelity, I’m going to figure out a way to make use of that as I cover Grisman’s HOF induction this fall. Wild as it is, friend Cliff soon followed my path out to Port Townsend to interview Grisman on camera for the Jerry Garcia exhibit. I don’t know what it means that I’d have meaningful encounters with these two powerfully connected American innovators within two weeks of each other, but I won’t forget it. It seems my summer is as blessed as the Atlanta Braves, who have the best record in baseball. Thanks to my hosts in WA, dear old friends JD and Sara (pictured below). They’ve set up a beautiful life out there and were gracious to share it with me.
My favorite stories of the last few weeks are linked here via the images. Click to see each piece.
Craig H
RECENT WORK
ROMP, nearby in western Kentucky, is one of the most important bluegrass festivals I’d never attended, so when its 20th anniversary came around, I had to attend. I have friends who’ve worked on it over the years, and it lived up to their praises. And it wasn’t even hot. My take for WMOT:
My interview with Layng Martine Jr. proved to be one of the most surprising and enjoyable of my year. He’s a Nashville Hall of Fame songwriter and a charming, life-affirming man. Click through and find time for this interview.
I first heard Bruce Cockburn as a teenager when his song “Wondering Where The Lions Are” became an FM radio hit. I didn’t think much more about him until the early 90s when a friend of mine raved about him and got me into his album Stealing Fire. Now he’s a hero and it was a pleasure to catch him for a Zoom interview during his tour behind his new album O Sun O Moon.
I don’t write freelance pieces enough these days, but I was really excited to work on this one. Ben Garnett is a dynamic young guitar player who I met about five years ago. I’ve enjoyed watching him find his feet in Nashville and grow as an artist. He’s made a bold and inventive debut album and I wrote a long piece for my old friend Premiere Guitar that actually came out in print! Click to see the online print facsimile edition.
Recent Reading
Jaron Lanier on musical instruments for The New Yorker. Beautiful.
It would have been a long 24 hours between Indy and Labor Day. I'm sure that you will be in NC for the IBMAs. Consider a stop at the Shakori Hills GrassRoots Festival (https://www.shakorihillsgrassroots.org/).
Those Peter Rowan / David Grisman stories are awesome! You got to hang with legends...so cool.