Marsh mellow

As traditional as they wanna be

By Sam Pfeifle

The Muddy Marsh Ramblers play at 10 p.m., on Thursday, August 10, at the Free Street Taverna, and every Saturday, at 10 p.m., at the Bramhall Pub.

At the Hebron Pines bluegrass festival, on Memorial Day weekend, the Muddy Marsh Ramblers got their first crack at the festival circuit: albeit at 10 a.m. Working on maybe three or four hours sleep after a long night spent playing in the fields, the Ramblers banged out a clean set of refreshing traditional bluegrass that got the hearty folks in the lawnchairs banging their mittened hands together. Not bad for a bunch of youngin's.

That's relatively speaking, of course -- a few of the Ramblers might actually be approaching middle age, and two have already started families -- because in the world of bluegrass, there's also a lot of blue hair.

"It was a little difficult and intimidating," says mandolinist Shawn Davis, "because this wasn't `bargrass' anymore. The people we were playing with have been playing for 50, 60 years, and the audience is so knowledgable."

But the feedback the Ramblers received from the seasoned veterans at Hebron was very positive. "They like to see young kids regionally," says guitarist Scott Conley, "not just some 15-year-old phenom playing all over the country" -- like, say, Alison Krauss. Sure, the phenoms are wonderful to watch, but they don't populate a local scene, "[the festival veterans] look at us," says Rambler bassist Rebecca Boothby, "and they're like `Yeah, the next generation,' " -- a generation that's not always readily apparent. (Of course, Boothby, the band's rock, actually is the next generation -- her father, Bob Boothby, has been playing for years in the White Mountain Bluegrass Band and the Danville Junction Boys.)

It's not that bluegrass veterans are worried about the music dying out because people don't appreciate it. Far from it, actually. The number of bluegrass festivals and bands around the country has been increasing rapidly over the past 10 years. No, it's that the music is so damned hard to play: all acoustic, solos in every tune by every instrument, three-part harmonies, and no distortion or effects to hide behind. "Most people are like me when I started," says Davis. "They say `You don't play lead on an acoustic guitar, that must be so fucking hard.' "

Among the Ramblers, the general consensus is that the young kids lean towards the ease of distorted rock -- "I know I did," notes Conley -- or the simple progressions of the blues, and come back around to bluegrass only when they realize what they've been missing. "It's a player's music," says banjo-player Eric Pariseau. "It's challenging, it's raw and it's old."

A quick look at sometime Rambler Zach Ovington's divergent roles on progressive guitar and classic fiddle reveal a microcosm of where bluegrass and the Ramblers are headed. At 21, Oving-ton's every bit the young gun, playing guitar, mandolin, fiddle, banjo, and maybe even some harmonica, with varying degrees of abandon. Despite his prowess, or perhaps because of it, he doesn't really fit in with the Ramblers on the guitar. They already have a guitarist, Conley, and traditional bluegrass bands don't have two. And Ovington's so good on the guitar that the standard bluegrass solos and tempos don't excite him right now. He takes a solo and lays down jazz riffs and phrasings that just don't jibe with the Ramblers' old-time sound.

"They've said that at the festival," says Davis. "That he doesn't really fit our traditional style." Which is why Ovington is really only a sometime Rambler; he wants to start his own jazzgrass band, following in the footsteps of players such as Béla Fleck, Ron Cody, Gordon Stone, and David Grisman, who have ventured beyond the limits of traditional bluegrass rhythms and melodies to define their own sounds. Plus, Ovington likes to have his own mic, and a monitor for heaven's sake. "He says he can't hear himself," jokes Davis. "You gotta remember, he is from Nashville."

It's another story altogether, however, when Ovington's on the fiddle. Working as a bowman and sometime vocalist, Ovington completes the classic bluegrass quintet, and the Ramblers can do that high, lonesome sound some serious justice. Old standards such as the countrified "Nine Pound Hammer," sung by Ovington in perfect pitch with Conley's accented guitar notes, or the upbeat "Barefoot Nellie," with Davis and Pariseau's harmonized vocals supported by high-pitched bow-work, take you back to the '50s and '60s when Bill Monroe and Del McCoury captivated the Grand Ol' Opry.

No, it's not "jazzgrass," or "newgrass," or "Dawggrass," and it's not played at 188 beats-per-minute, as one band in town is fond of doing, but it's also not "cheesegrass." The sincerity and soul in a song like the Conley-penned "Timberline," as infectious and sly as Kenny Rogers's "Gambler," comes through almost startlingly with every dip Conley takes as he pulls out of the three-part-harmony bridge, leads the band into a breath of silence, and dives back into the chorus. Here it becomes apparent that a bluegrass band doesn't have to be pushing the music's boundaries to be good quality entertainment.

The Ramblers are happy with their genre. They love bluegrass for what it is: a music that doesn't need to be jazzed-up, or tricked-out, or made-new. "It's Appalachian music," notes Davis, "and Appalachia runs from Maine to Georgia." The Muddy Marsh Ramblers won't let us forget it.

Sam Pfeifle can be reached at spfeifle@phx.com.