Beginner's mind reigns at slow jam

By DAVID GUNTER

Feature correspondent

SANDPOINT — A common trait of bluegrass, old-time and traditional pub playing sessions is the tendency — some might call it the compulsion — to play tunes at lightning speeds. Yes, there is an element of derring-do involved, but sometimes the lovely lilt of the melody gets lost in the race for the finish line.

More to the point, the very act of playing at such rapid tempos acts as a barrier to entry for beginner and intermediate players who’d like to join the fun. In response, new tune circles have begun to form in parking lots at festivals, at folk clubs and coffee houses, aimed specifically at these formerly shut out musicians.

They call it the “slow jam” movement. And a movement it is, with literally hundreds of scheduled sessions taking place in every major U.S. city, never mind all the rural routes and smaller burgs that have taken up the rallying cry of “Take it easy!”

For the past 18 months, just such a group has been getting together on Monday evenings in Sandpoint, placing about a dozen chairs — sometimes more — in a circle and making music together with the express intent of having everyone feel successful in the shared endeavor.

Even in the teeth of a winter storm and in spite of bitter cold, core members of the group showed up last Monday to do their thing, slowly.

“Do you start ‘The Wren?’” asked mandolin player Jerry Le Claire, looking to his left at octave mandolinist Steve Mullin.

“How does it go?” Mullin replied after a moment of thought.

Opting for a wordless answer, Emily Faulkner broke into the tune on her soprano recorder; one of several woodwinds she would pull out during the evening.

Eyes lit up and recognition pounced as first the mandolin, then its lower-pitched cousin took the bait and the fiddle, close behind, picked up the thread.

“We learned that one by ear,” said fiddler Duane Nightingale after the tune came to a close. “That’s one of the things we wanted to do here — learn tunes the way they used to.”

This aural tradition of demonstration and repetition is as old as the Celtic mists and was brought along with immigrants from Ireland and Scotland when they populated the Appalachians, where banjo met fiddle and old-time music was born. The same approach remained intact when later generations fanned out and became citified, amping up the tempos and adding instruments to create bluegrass music.

After a run through of “Wind That Shakes the Barley” and “Morrison’s Jig” one of the members kicks off “Banish Misfortune” at a somewhat sprightlier speed. Like a colt trying out its legs in spring, the tune begins to gallop until the point where the player who started it lifted up a foot near the end of a phrase — the agreed upon signal that things are coming to a close.

“Whoa,” LeClaire said with a smile. “We’re at risk of not being called a slow jam anymore.”

Which brings to mind the runaway tempos that inspired the movement in the first place. Do these players find themselves tapping the brakes, as it were, to keep from launching into that arena?

“In some cases,” Faulkner said. “In others, we’re just hanging on, even at a moderate tempo.”

The comment elicits a laugh and nods of agreement all around the circle.

According to Nightingale, who played with bluegrass bands in college and picked up the fiddle about three years ago, the slow jam is “a training ground to keep the music alive.”

“Being a beginning fiddler, I need a slow jam — I wouldn’t survive in a fast jam,” he said. “It’s a very important step to be with a group, play with other people and be able to do it at a speed you can break off and chew.”

LeClaire started playing mandolin at pretty much the same time the local slow jam got its start. Now picking quite well, thank you, he very much remembers “beginner’s mind” and the halting nature of those first few sessions.

“Because, by God, back then, we were all beginners,” he said.

When new recruits join the jam, the tunes are taken at very slow speeds, he added, and repeated as many times as needed for them to get the hang of things.

“The idea is that the beginner gets a chance to really pick at the notes,” he explained.

“We always want new people to feel welcome,” said Mullin. “So our ritual is to start slow and then we might rip into for those who can play fast.”

Following some friendly chat about upcoming dances and out-of-town gatherings, the circle swings into another string of instrumentals with names such as “Sarah’s Jig,” “Red-Haired Boy” and “The Banshee.” Each one seems to appear out of thin air as a player either calls a tune or just starts it off. A foot lifts and the music comes to a stop.

The sessions can cover the above-mentioned genres of old-time and bluegrass, with detours into rags and waltzes.

“But, primarily, it’s Celtic jigs and reels,” Le Claire said, listing the traditional forms that Irish musicians have come to call by the shorthand, “Trad.” No matter what you call it, the music has always existed mainly for the purpose of dancing.

And while there is a surfeit of fun in just the playing these tunes, the slow jam movement also has become a school for future dance bands.

“Some people ‘graduate’ to become regular performers at dances,” said Nightingale. “Without that happening, the music might die out.”

Mullin abides in both worlds, still a cheerleader for the slow jam, but also a recent convert to playing live in a group that travels to and plays for Contra Dances in the region. The demands of the dance floor call for faster versions of the melodies, but the two schools of playing are complementary, according to the octave mandolin and tenor guitar player.

“They are in a couple of ways,” he said. “For dances, I’m trying to learn how to play fast, so when I practice at home, I have a tendency to push things. In the slow jam, I can focus less on speed and more on getting things technically right.”

On an average Monday night, the jam will pull in 8-10 players, Mullin said, adding that good weather ramps the number up closer to 12-14 participants. Some of the tunes are played from memory, but most are found in a variety of “fake books” or in the large digital archive Mullin maintains for the group.

“And then, people just bring in odds and ends that they found in a book or heard on the Internet,” LeClaire said. “And we’re very open to that.”

Currently made up of guitars, mandolins, fiddle, flute and whistles, the slow jam group is open to whoever shows up and new members are heartily invited, Nightingale noted.

“This is a group that will take anybody, wherever they’re at,” he said.

“We can always use more instruments,” Mullin said. “As long as it’ll fit in some way with Celtic or old-time music, they’re welcome to join us.

“It’s sure the place to learn a lot of tunes, because we pick up one or two new ones every week, which keeps you busy,” he went on. “But, actually, having fun is what it’s all about.”

The Sandpoint slow jam meets Monday evenings at 6 p.m., upstairs on the west side of the Heartwood Center, located at 615 Oak St., in Sandpoint. For information, call 208-946-6170.