When ethnologist Cecil Sharp came to America during the First World War, he was established as an expert on the British folksong. Unable to support himself during the war (there was not much need for lecturing on folk music during the war), he was drawn by the thought of researching traditional English and Scottish songs that still survived in the American folk tradition.
One of the places he stopped was Hot Springs, North Carolina. On August 26, 1919, Sharp wrote in his diary,
Last week I went to Hot Springs, where I got thirty beautiful songs from a single woman. The collecting goes on apace, and I have now noted 160 songs and ballads. Indeed, this field is a far more fertile one upon which to collect English folk songs than England itself. The cult of singing traditional songs is far more alive than it is in England or has been for fifty years or more. […] I must try and get up here by hook or crook next year again. It is work that for the sake of posterity must be done, and that without delay. (Source)
The lady who awed Sharp was Jane Gentry, and her songs live today in the memory of singers like Betty Smith, who is partially responsible for the Bluff Mountain Festival, a celebration of two of the strongest cultural binding agents: music and dance.
Betty Smith (website)
When I went to my first Polish wedding, I was shocked at the group singing that would spontaneously begin throughout the night. No instruments necessary, and actual singing talent is completely optional. All that’s required is the willingness, and after a few shots of vodka, everyone is willing. That’s how I used to look at it, but I’ve come to understand there’s something much deeper.
As blood moves the oxygen necessary to keep the body alive, so music and dance transport the oxygen needed to keep a culture healthy. That oxygen is simply a strong sense of regional identity, and music is only one part of that identity. Food, language, and religion are other important elements. These elements, however, are “celebrated” regularly, however: we eat and talk daily, and most people in the rural areas of America attend religious services at least weekly (often more regularly). So music needs specific occasions to be celebrated with the broader culture.
It’s to that end that residents of Madison County organize the annual Bluff Mountain Festival. Practitioners of bluegrass and old-timey music play (and discuss) songs that have been in the Appalachian collective memory for years (in some cases, literally centuries, as Cecil Sharp discovered), reminding all of us who don’t have daily contact with this music of its beauty and importance.
Green Grass Cloggers
It’s getting more difficult to hold onto such traditions. The first difficulty arrived with the rise of mobility that characterized the twentieth century. Instead of staying in the same region as one’s parents, individuals began moving to cities where there were more economic possibilities. A second difficulty is the competition imported through mass media. Christina Aguilera is known outside of Appalachia; Betty Smith is not (at least on the same scale).
Cole Mountain Cloggers
The music and traditions survive, though, and young people continue to value the culture their parents and grandparents pass along.
They’ll be singing these songs twenty years from now, when Aguilera is a tired pop star desperately fighting obscurity by performing with up-and-coming divas, and maybe making out with them on awards shows in a pathetic effort to stay on the tabloid front page.