7/31/2019 The Accidental Bluegrass Tradition
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swig ohis beer, Moore begins strumming hisguitar. The chaotic
sounds o tinkering turnsinto an unbelievably melodic flow and
anexplosion otalent fills the room as each playerseamlessly follows
the other's lead.
O
n Holy Thursday, March 30, 1972, inGeorge Steck's parent's
basementon Marple Street in Holmesburg, the
first jam occurred. It was just Steck andfriends Dave Purtle and
Mike Coonan,and Stecks cousin Bill Sullivan.
It wasn't a bluegrass band, says Steck.It was just four guys
with guitars teachingeach other how to play. It was basically
anacoustic jam, mostly pop tunes, and didn'tevolve too much from
there until Fredcame around.
Sullivan rented an apartment in a bigramshackle house on
Frankford Avenuewhere his sister Fran and her husband,
Fred Moore, lived. The jam began to takeplace on Thursday nights
in Sullivan'skitchen and occasionally in the yard.We had some
amazing parties, Moore
says with a smirk. Sometimes we'd go until2 or 3 a.m. My wife
was not happy. But she
always let the bedroom window open, andevery Thursday night I'd
climb through it.
Outside, the jam would light fires (morelike pyres) and gather
around for a night odrinking, dancing and playing.
We didn't get in any trouble with the firedepartment, Steck
reminisces. They camearound the first couple times. I they got
calls,
There is barely a crowd at the HopAngel in Northeast Philly,
save fora few German food enthusiasts
and a small Thirsty Thursday group.But that's OK. When it comes
to an old-fashioned bluegrass session band likethe Holmesburg Jam,
things like crowds,practices and ticket sales never matter.
It is not a show, clarifies Fred Moore,one othe longest jammers,
who starteda few short years ater the HolmesburgJam began in 1972.
A show requires
rehearsing. We just get together and havefun. Iyou come, you
come. Iyou don't,that's fine too!
On the second floor every Thursdaynight, the Holmesburg Jam
membersgather to play some othe most fiery andpassionate bluegrass
music youll ever hear,just like theyve been doing for four
decades.
On this particular jam night, 12 people makean elongated circle
in the restaurant's limitedspace and the room fills with the sounds
oguitars, fiddles, basses and mandolins beingplunked, picked and
otherwise getting tuned.
Suddenly the tinkering stops and with a final
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7/31/2019 The Accidental Bluegrass Tradition
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they knew what it was and sometimes theywould come by and listen
to music. Peoplewould show up but you never really knewwho was
going to. Junkies would just comeup, listen to music and fall
asleep. It wasntthe best neighborhood in the world but it wasalways
peaceful.
Their summer escapades attractedtalented musicians in the late
80s,
including the late Fran Hofman andEd Pollak, a retired
psychologist and professorwho jams five nights per week with
diferentgroups, from Fox Chase to Wilmington.
Some people don't like playing with newpeople, scofs Pollak. I
never got that. Thebest feeling is learning new players.
Pollak has become an expert on jammingetiquette. For instance,
eye contact is key,since the band leader for that song will
givewhomever they want the right to a solo duringthe jam. In strict
jams, it is a cardinal sin tohave more than one bass player and in
someothers, newcomers have to patiently wait to fill
in when a more experienced player is missing.I once heard us
called a third tier jam,
confesses Steck. It is not very advanced. Thosebig ones are
exclusive. The thing I am proudesto with this jam is that it is
open to everyone.We've had people who come in here and barelyknow
how to play a chord or two but they enjoyplaying. We may never see
them again but theycame here and they learned how to play.
When Terita Reeve and her husbandjoined a new church and hearda
guitar player during services,
they discovered a rekindled passion for theinstrument. They had
both always lovedmusic, bluegrass being among her favorites.They
picked up their axes ater years oneglectand then found the jam
through some onlineresearch.
Everybody was very welcoming, Reeveclaims. Everything I really
learned aboutbluegrass I learned from here. They are allphenomenal
teachers, like Ed. They'll critiqueyou, but you are a better player
for it.
Now, Reeve and her husband are weeklyregulars.
Over the past 40 years, the jam hasmigrated from riversides, to
bars tobowling alleys (their outside jams
were put to an end when an outsider fell intothe fire). But
while the location has otenchanged, the passion and the spirit o
the jamhas never faltered.
A couple beers, a couple tunes, thats all itis, says Steck. It
was never meant to be a bigtradition. It was just four guys,
hanging out andplaying music. Nothing lucrative. Bluegrassand
lucrative are oxymoronic. It is basically thecamaraderie, something
we all love to do andwill do for as long as possible.
Where are you from Ruben?
I'm originally from north-central New Jersey. Igot lucky. I came
up with bands from the NewBrunswick screamo scene The Assistant,You
& I, Thursday. Most o the shows I wentto were at a small club
called Chrome in PerthAmboy.
When did Facts get together?
We started out o an old band I was in calledDown, BEAST! There's
Brian Mach on drums,Douglass Horn on bass, Eric Picard playsguitar
and Will Dickerson is our singer. We'vebeen going strong since
August.
You guys are recording right now, correct?
We finished up recording the full-length lastmonth (March). Now
we're just waiting forthe mixing and mastering to be done,
whichwe're doing ourselves. Dan Anderson, from myother band Secret
Plot to Destroy the EntireUniverse, has a background in mastering.
Heand I are going to put it out on vinyl throughhis Philly-based
label, Kat Kat Records. This isFacts' first full-length and we're
likely to haveanother EP done by the end othe year.
You shamelessly describe your two bands asemo. Do you see
anything unique about the
trajectory othe genre?
Oh yeah. Even little things like The Barbarydoing Makeoutclub
the ad says in bold letters"EMO." It definitely depends which
generationyou grew up in, and how you view the tag. Tome the Cap'n
Jazz scene got big here, about fouror fives years ago. Algernon
Cadwallader is agood example. It became a lot easier to do analmost
emo/pop-punk that can get very loudand abrasive but still have very
pretty guitars.It became fun again.
What do you like about the Philly music scene
on the whole?
That iyou put your ear to the ground, you canfind a good show
almost any night. There'salways something to do, and that really
helpstouring bands as well.
Have you always been based out o the
Kensington-Port Richmond area?
I wish. I love it out here because no one canfind me! All o my
friends live in other partsothe city and they never want to come to
PortRichmond because they're scared o it. So, noone bothers me. And
I have an excuse to not
hang out!
Your house now, it has a name and you do
shows out oit, correct?
Yes. TWOB-House, The Wrath oBong. We'vebeen doing shows on-and-o
there for twoyears. It was great until a show in Decembergot shut
down. I did one more show in Januaryand then called it quits for a
while. Now, sinceI'm leaving (to tour) in three months I
decided,fuck it. We'll just stay until the cops show up.
You're touring th e co untry this summer with
Secret Plot. Any shows here before you leave?
We're trying to set it up. That band hit theground running. We
formed in November,toured in December. We put out a demo aterfour
practices. Now, we just finished recordingthe drums for the
full-length. I'm just tryingto finish living out my stupid
kid-in-the-vandream that I've had in my heart since I was alittle
kid. I'm giving myseluntil I'm 28. I'm 26now. Just so I can say,
"I've seen the countryand played in someone's basement in
Utah."Then I can go back and become, like, a normalperson.
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