Writer's Notebook - James Rafferty Blog

Writer's Notebook: Downtown After Dark

I'm fresh back from a trip to Asheville, North Carolina.  We found it to be a remarkable cultural center that is conducive to producing art at the highest level.  

Friday night was all about music.  Three groups played on an impromptu stage set up under the I-240 overpass on Lexington Avenue -- all powered by a massive solar panel.  The series is called Downtown After Five. 

My son and I arrived around six thirty and the events were already in full swing, led by a group called Brushfire Stankgrass, which included electric banjo and guitar in their instruments.  The first impression was of a bluegrass group, but they quickly went beyond direction into an electric fusion more reminiscent of Bela Fleck and the Flecktones.  The mix in the audience also surprised me -- ranging in age from the young people you'd expect to see at an outdoor concert to many people in my own fiftyish baby boomer age group ... and beyond.  

 

Here is a shot of Brushfire Stankgrass in action.  

 

The banjo player and lead guitarist were both fine musicians and drove the band and the audience to very high energy levels.   They built songs step by step, increasing intensity until the solos reached a crescendo with a flurry of notes, before returning to the basics of melody and swinging rhythm.  

They ended around eight and we started thinking about dinner, but one group remained.   Twenty minutes later, an Australian guitarist, Geoff Achison took the stage and played two acoustic blues numbers.  Geoff can belt out a blues effectively, with a vocal approach reminiscent of Eric Clapton, but his guitar playing offered more flash than substance on these first two songs.  He then strapped on his electric guitar and his drummer and bassist joined to complete a power trio.  The trio sound kicked up the energy level, but Achison still played erratically and his body weaved around the stage as if he were hoping to get inspired by the movement.  

Another element was needed and arrived a few minutes later in the person of musical virtuouso Randall Bramblett.  Bramblett normally leads his own band, but tonight he played the role of sideman on soprano and tenor sax.   Achison said, "We're just jammin", but Bramblett's sax fills and solos gave the music much needed depth.  Song after song, Randall continued to elevate the music and really got the crowd dancing in the streets.   His energy pulled up the rest of the band and Achison had fine moments himself when he and Bramblett traded licks on material crossing the gamut from funky blues to shuffles to boogie and even reggae.  The quartet put on a great show and kept us boogying in the streets until darkness fell.  

Here is a shot of the band with Achison on guitars and vocal, and Bramblett on soprano sax.  

 

I wouldn't mind seeing Achison again; I sensed he's better than he showed this night and we got glimpse of that during his crossfire exchanges with Bramblett.  As for Bramblett, I'd love to see him again and see what his band is doing these days.  He played with soul and clarity.  This guy is a major musical talent.   He's touring across the South this summer.     

We had two other encounters with brilliant artists the next day in Asheville.  I'll write about that in another post. 

Return to Asheville

My son and I have returned to Asheville, North Carolina as he prepares for enrollment at a local school in the fall.  We walked the city center in the late afternoon and delighted in its many contrasts.  Asheville is packed with galleries and work of local artists, so the local art association was our first stop.  The woman supervising the gallery gave us a quick rundown of the local art scene, which is not only downtown but in an arts district by the river.   The artist whose work was on display, Gerald Jonas, had a panopoly of canvas on display which explore the world in brilliant colors and with elements of texture.   And a great sign: "It's okay to touch."  

Down the road, we walked past an open air farmer's market, featuring station wagon's and truckloads of local produce, and then onto a food coop, which featured a cornupcopia of fresh foods and much more.  

The streets here remind me of San Francisco; lots of undulating blocks where you turn a corner and the next amazing art deco building shows it face.  The town's building look mostly unchanged from years

past, as evidenced by ads painted on brick on many sidewalls, advertising products from -- I'd guess -- the post-WWII era.   There are newer buildings, but the percentage of older ones is much higher than in a city like Boston.  

We worked up an appetite, then returned to a French restaurant called Bouchon, which promised French comfort food.  Exactement.  I recommended my son try the Steak au Poivre and I had a scintillating boulliabaise, with a glass of Alsatian Hugel on the side.  It reminded me of restaurants I'd been to in Paris and my son drew the comparison with our trip to Quebec City last year. 

Our outdoor dinner was mildly interrupted by a flash.  People at the table next to us quickly asked if anyone had been using a flash camera.  Nope.  Bowling ball thunder rattled the tables a moment later.  We reconnoitered indoors and continued our dinner there. 

Afterwards, we walked a few blocks back to our hotel.  The black night and wet streets offered striking views en route, made more so when lightning flashed overhead.  My son and I both agreed that the word for this city, especially at night, is dramatic.  

This evening, I took another walk in the city and the weather was more cooperative.  Smoke rose up from the base of the mountains overlooking downtown.  To our west, the sky tinted red at sunset, signaling what I hope will be a sunny day tomorrow.  

I'll close with a few photos from the walk about town. 

 

Inside Grove Arcade

 

Flowers by the public theater entrance

 

Call letters for the local public radio station

 

James pets a local cat

Time to Celebrate

This weekend has been a special one for my family.  My oldest son is graduating from high school and he and his classmates are getting ready to take the big leap forward into the next stages of their lives. 

I moved to Massachusetts almost ten years ago and my son has had most of his formative experiences here.  His graduation is a genuine milestone in his life and in ours.  Next year he'll be away from us at college and life will be different for us, his parents, and for his younger brother.  But for now, we are all still together and are very proud of how our oldest son has developed into a unique individual who is ready to take this next step.  

Modern life passes by too quickly and we are often in too much of a rush to get to the next place.  But when good things happen, we cheat ourselves and our loved ones if we don't take the time to celebrate, both the large triumphs and the small ones.  So the theme of the past few weeks for our family has been celebration -- of my son's graduation and looking back with pride on extracurricular activities such as his scouting career, which culiminated at a high point with an amazing hiking trip at the Philmont Ranch in New Mexico and with the attainment of the rank of Eagle Scout.  

Last weekend, the council in Southeast Massachusetts had a dinner for all of the Eagle scouts from the past year, commemorating their achievement.  I was privileged to be there with my son and hear each scout talk about their Eagle scout projects.   We hear a lot of bad news about young people, but there was none of that here.  Each Eagle scout project involves community service and typically has the scout leading a team of other scouts -- not to mention family and friends -- on an approved project whose cumumulative hours usually exceed one hundred.  

My son's project was no exception.  He and the other scouts ripped out overgrown shrubbery in front of our local church, then totally re-did the landscaping by planting new shrubs and laying a bed of mulch.  Like in real life, the goal line moved a couple of times, but my son kept at it until the church's board of trustees signed off.  My son did many other things in his high school career after the Eagle project, but the lessons of working hard and leading creatively permeated much of what followed.  So, this weekend is all about celebration and rites of passage.  Soon enough the new adventure will begin.