Meet Kirk Sutphin.

This is Kirk Sutphin. He plays the fiddle. Damn well in fact.

I first met him at the National Folk Festival in Bangor ME a few years back and. He and I played what I still recall as my most cherished session of fiddle music until the wee hours of the final night there. I had never met anyone who played with such simple straight forward drive and energy. I don't play much Old Time music since the Bad Livers folded, so it was quite a treat.

It was my great fortune to run into him yet again at the National, but this time in Richmond VA. This years line up was a fine a selection of top flight traditional music spanning from the great Savoy Family of Eunice Louisiana, all the way to the frenetic Bulgarian Wedding Band of Ivo Pappasov and Yuri Yunokov and just about every where in between, including Yupik Eskimo dancers and Cowboy Poets. I was there as a member of Frank London’s Klezmer All Stars in a very rare USappearancee and just to make it interesting the Festival asked us to back up singer/folklorist/single handed Yiddish revivalist Henry Sapoznik. What’s not to like?

The gigs were uniformly amazing, but far more satisfying were the late night sessions tucked into every conceivable corner of the Radisson Hotel all the artists were being housed at. These picking parties are legendary, and this year did not disappoint. In the course a single evening we played Jewish frelaichs with the locals, played salsa tuba with the plena band from Puerto Rico and backed up the amazing fiddler Spencer Thorton of the White Top Mountain band in a particularly spirited and moving session that included hillbillies and Jews in a whole new and wonderful context. (Spencer is suffering mightily from emphysemama, and every stroke of his bow was matched with a desperate gasp for air. Even so, he stayed in for the fun as long as he could take it, playing with sureity and strength of spirit that belied his physical frailties. We hit it off in a big way, and I dearly look forward to seeing him in good health again real soon.) That all said, I did NOT get in any tunes with Kirk that night and I feared I might not at all.

After our final appearance at the festival, which will be a whole other story, we high tailed off to Buzz and Ned’s Real BBQ on 1119 N. Boulevard for what the locals tend to call the best in town. Buzz is MOT (last name Grossman in fact) and said we were welcome to come play for our supper. The locals were in fact not lying and the beef ribs could have been the best I ever ate, with sides you don’t normally run into (pickled cucumber and onion salad made from scratch anyone?) We played then ate and then played again, a set just as inspired and wonderful as any I have played with Frank London. Simply put, he’s Great High Sultan of Chaos, able to create great beauty and art out of whatever and whoever he finds. Amazing time and fun stuff, but still no picking with Kirk.

Imagine my happiness to walk into the lobby of the hotel to see a circle of chairs set out with Kirk in the corner, fiddle and banjo close at hand. Next to him is guitar maker and picker Wayne Henderson and evidently they’d been playing quite a bit before we got there. Henry sits down tight next to Kirk, who hands him a fine old snake head Gibson banjo. Wayne’s hands have been hurting from a weekend of picking so he lets me play his guitar, which is a little like having Stradivari hand you one of his fiddles. I can honestly report that it was among the best guitars I have ever played. I slide in tight next to Henry, already sitting knee to knee with Kirk, when Kirk says "Why not one of them Poole numbers?" Why not indeed?

Did I mention Kirk was a damn fine fiddler? No really, he's much more than that. In his own humble way he just sits there and plays absolutely the simplest and most plainly beautiful fiddle I have yet encountered. And he makes it seem so easy, so easy that the subtle nuances of his playing could be lost on the casual observer. He has a new CD called "Grandpas' favorites" which as I'm sure you figured out by now I strongly recommend that you rush out and buy. It's a great cross section of his native repertoire, played and recorded well.

If I am very luck this year I find my name inscribed in the Book of Life, I will consider it as a sign from the Almighty that I will eventually get to play with Hank and Kirk again.

Live From the Kennedy Center

How cool is this?

Me and my Ridgetop Syncopators went up to Washington DC to perform at the Kennedy Center in conjunction with the first ever Duke Ellington Jazz Festival.

In case you missed it, you can watch it here, archived in Real Player.

Enjoy!

From the Austin Traditional Jazz Society

"Visiting New Orleans Jazzmen and Tommy Griffith’s Band Brought a Rousing Brand of Hot Jazz to Donn’s in Sept."


Ben Schenck of the Panorama Jazz Band has found himself my house guest of late. We've been out making the scene, and playing with the local cats. Check it out.

More about Jon Baily

This is from my friend Ryan Gould, a fine local bassist and all around cowboy here in Austin TX. He too shares his thoughts about out old pal Jon.

Yesterday, a friend of mine, a musician of good spirit and a veteran of this country’s armed forces died.

Jon Baily, a banjo player, from California, spent his last years in Austin, Texas supporting the Austin Banjo Club and the Austin Traditional Jazz Society.

I met Jon at a Traditional Jazz Society function. He scrawled on the back of his business card the directions to the Banjo Club and insisted that I show up the following week. I did.
Jon went out of his way through those, my first couple visits to the Banjo Club, to make me feel welcome and to insist on my return. From those first visits to the Banjo Club on, Jon would share his love for music with me through telephone calls and emails. He would insist that I come pick up some band’s CD that made him think of me. He would email me all manner of information concerning music in all its forms that he found of interest.

Jon's love for music and his desire and willingness to share it were impeccable and so very appreciated.

Jon was also proud of the banjo pickers in the Club who were veterans. He summed up their stints in the military for me on different occasions. He shared with me any story that filtered through him that related to our nation’s warriors.

I’m ever thankful for having gotten to know this man and will live more fulfilled having been gifted by his hearty spirit.

If you have the extra time in the days following, take a minute, please, and realize what’s good around you. Be thankful for the elders in our musical family and take heart in their vitality and nature. Without these good people, our lives would be less.

Thank you, Jon Baily. I will continue to play tunes to the best of my ability for you!

- Ryan Gould

Jon Baily RIP

This is how I will always remember my friend Jon Baily.

Sitting there, solid as a rock, with his beloved Paramount Plectrum banjo. Always ready with a joke and an infectious smile, Jon was one the reasons why I so much enjoyed visiting the Austin Banjo Club "rehearsals" on Monday evenings.

Life dealt Jon a bad series of hands late in life, but he mostly kept it to himself and soldiered on with great humor and dignity. He was a father, and veteran, and a great bon vivant. Above it all however, Jon played the hell out of the banjo. It gave him such happiness. Not just the instrument itself, for which he had an inate gift, but the fellowship and joy of playing music with others. You won't find his records anywhere. But he will be remembered very fondly by the literally thousands of people that played for, playing concerts at retirement centers all around the Austin area, and by his banjo brothers at the Austin Banjo Club.

I'm a better man for having met him and I miss him more everyday.

Welcome to Heaven. Here's your banjo.

Hannukah in July

Wow. They keep everything up forever on the web it seems.

Here's a 2002 clip from Warner Channel News 8 Austin with Cantor Nei Blumofe.

Enjoy!

The Best Hotel I Ever Stayed At

It's called the Eden, located in the Kazimerz district of Cracow Poland.

The ex-pat owner made me and the other musicians staying there just as comfortable as I've ever been anywhere. It was almost off putting how nice they were. I got over it quick however.

They had something called a "salt grotto" in the basement of the hotel. It's a small room filled with 6 tons of salt, as if you found yourself deep in a salt mine. There's gently running water in the corner, mood lighting behing the walls of salt (nice touch) and comfy chairs to lounge in. A nice waitress brings you a Tatanka, a favorite summer drink made of one part apple juice and one part Zubrowska (Buffalo Grass) vodka, and you just chill. I found myself in there just about every night I was in Crackow, winding down with fellow performers.

Here's the website, with an interesting legend about the building where the Eden now stands.

The Best Slap Bass Player

Meet my friend Djordje:

http://www.djordjestijepovic.com/

I first met him in his native Belgrade Serbia. I'll let his website tell you more about him, but let me simply add that beyond being a fine fellow, he also happens to be the best "slap" style upright bassist I've ever encountered, either in person or on record. He's got skills and techniques that simply boggle my mind. Did I mention he was a nice guy? He even gave me a hat.

Check him out.

The Past Sure Is Tense

It's not often that you get a window into your brain at the time you make a big decision.

I stumbled upon this interview I gave back in 2000 while doing advance press for the Bad Livers Blood and Mood tour.

It was in the messy aftermath of a gig at the 400 Club in Minneapolis MN mentioned in this very interview, that sealed my decision to turn off the lights on my participation in Bad Livers. He calls me up on my cell phone and runs up about 2 1/2 hours on my phone, while we're driving through a snow storm in Wisconsin. The writer senses I'm a little "morose" in this interview, please know that I am in fact reading from a 3 x 5" card given to me by my band mate in an often vain attempt that I keep the journalist on our talking points about the "new direction" of the band. However, the stuff about dying on the highway and preconceived journalistic agendas is all me.

I'm a much happier camper these days. No, really.

Mirrored here:

The road less traveled

Posted on April 12, 2000 by Mark Goldstein

Life on the road — and in the recording studio — is a mighty risky business for The Bad Livers. Mark Rubin, the band’s bassist (and occasional tuba player), explained this to me after an exceptionally rough day on tour.

“Well, you know … there’s a big conceit in the music business about touring,” he said, via the band’s van phone. The night before, the Livers had driven 14 hours from St. Louis to a Minneapolis gig, only to face an uncontrollable crowd that screamed epithets along with its requests.

“A lot of people die on the highway, in between hither and yon. When you see a guy onstage play[ing] music, he literally had to risk his own life to get there,” the bassist noted morosely.

But then, The Bad Livers have built their reputation by putting their musical lives on the line (and that’severy day). Rubin (who hails from Austin) and bandmate Danny Barnes (who resides in Washington state) started out playing acoustic roots music. Soon, however, a layer of punk flavored the mix, alongside other favorite musical influences — call it the Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup effect. (“Dan [the band's vocalist, guitarist and electronics guru] is the alchemist, as far as that all goes,” Rubin is quick to note.) As a result, the group’s sound has been labeled “slamgrass” (as in bluegrass and slam dancing), attracting a cult following — as well as the ire of bluegrass fans everywhere — in the process.

“There are a lot of people who have … an agenda … about music,” Rubin says about critical purists. “They see something in our music that they think relates to that agenda, and so they’ve signed us up for it. The fact of the matter is, we’ve never joined any of those clubs. So if they want to reflect their agenda unto us all day long, they can — but they’ll be very disappointed.”

The group has survived yet another dangerous left turn with its latest release, Blood and Mood (Sugar Hill Records, 2000), which Rubin declares is “the way kids are making records right now.” With this album, all bets are off, as the band incorporates electronic elements and makes sort of a rural version of the Beastie Boys’ Paul’s Boutique (EMD/Capitol, 1989).

“With the Blood and Mood operating system, we’re presenting music in a way with which people can readily identify,” Rubin explains. In a way, Blood and Mood is a logical next step to the band’s early work, which included bluegrass versions of songs by such artists as Metallica, Iggy Pop and the Misfits.

It’s all new territory for the Livers, though, and that’s probably why the album is as fun (and occasionally as rough and silly) as it is. Blood and Mood is a genuinely experimental release, and Barnes and Rubin are like two kids with new toys. Even the CD’s awkward moments are playful, and seemingly necessary to the conception of gems like “Fist Magnet,” “Death Trip” and “Love Songs Suck,” all highly danceable tunes (a theory I tested with a friend in her kitchen — thankfully without serious injury).

This is the band’s fifth trip to Asheville — so be sure to check your rear-view mirrors this week, folks, because for the first time, the band is packing a full array of electronic gadgetry (not to mention a drummer, Steve Bender).

“I’d recommend that your readers come with open ears and with no preconceptions,” cautions Rubin. Ever the ethnophile, he wields a precedent to help make his point: “When Bill Monroe came out, he used absolutely the highest technology available to him, and a lot of old-timers stood around him and told him he was crazy for using it — it was called ‘radio.’ A lot of people thought radio was going to destroy the music industry.”

And if Rubin has his own agenda, it’s more along the lines of “debunking myths” and dodging categorization. “Christ, they’re just records, you know what I mean? … It’s probably better just to express and present people with this joy that you have, and that, in and of itself, will be infectious and interesting.”

Still, it must be asked: How exactly did “slamgrass” happen?

“I guess early on [before Blood and Mood], we put kind of a filter on how we would express ourselves to the world,” Rubin recalls. “The filter at the time was in an acoustic format, and as we got older and experienced more things, both Danny and I came to the realization that it’s better just to play music and not worry about what box it goes into or what kind of outside filter you want to put onto it. … I think the realization came to us when we were working on the soundtrack for The Newton Boys (Sony/Columbia, 1998), because … Danny was leading the Seattle Symphony through his own compositions. And there was a moment there, like, ‘Heck, why didn’t you do this before?’ And the reason was, ‘Because you didn’t think about it.’ We had our own preconceptions about what we did, which limited [us]. And the only limitations you have are the ones you put on yourself.

“That’s kind of what Blood and Mood is,” continues the newly liberated bassist. “It’s like complete freedom, no restrictions. It’s actually been very, very satisfying. I mean, if it never sells a copy — and it may not — it doesn’t matter, because we made this burnin’ record. We listen to it in our own van, and it makes us happy. So we win.”

Golem DVD

My Jew Band has released a DVD of this famous/infamous film with our own sound track.

It's out. It's great.

And here's a review.

"The Brotherhood of Brass"

Thought I'd share this with you all.

For the last 3 years, I've been travelling to Europe as a member of Frank London's Klezmer Brass All Stars, playing all over Central and even Eastern Europe.

It's been quite an amazing for me journey musically, culturally, even spiritually, not to mention physically. Our tour schedule just last year took us from Vienna to Belgrade, from Riga Latvia to the small village of Vladichin Han, just a few miles from the Serbian border with Kossovo. I just returned form a concert in Chemnitz Germany, and in June will return to Vienna, by popular demand, to open the famed Weiner Festwochen as well as a concert tour of Italy.

One of the highlights of my experience with this group has been our collaborations with the Boban Markovic Orchestra, Serbia's finest Gypsy Brass Band. We recorded a CD with them, "The Brotherhood of Brass" in Budapest in 2001, which was released the following year on the Pirhana label. Just last year, we recorded a track for their latest CD "Boban I Marko" in Belgrade.

That CD was featured on NPR's "The World" recently, and just in case if you missed it, I've included a link where you can hear the story as it was broadcast, including the tune we recorded with them: and old Hassidic melody given the Gypsy treatment.

I've also posted a photo diary of our trip to Serbia, including the recording of the CD. You find even more photos from our many trips posted here as well.

It was quite an experience travelling Eastern Europe and Austria with Gypsies. Not always a pleasant one at times, made all the more chilling by the recent horrific treatment of the Rroma population in the Czech Republic, and news that the Austrian Government is building jails in Romania to house "Romanian criminals" (mostly Rroma) outside their own country. Anywhere that you can openly discriminate against gypsies and other "outsiders", you can be sure that Jews can expect the same treatment eventually. All I know how to combat this ignorance is to continue to return to Eastern Europe and elsewhere, identifying myself unabashedly as a Jew and attempting in my own small way as a musician to illustrate those things that bind ALL peoples together, rather than what makes us different. I invite you to visit this site with links to Rroma Rights organizations.

I also have quite a few things to share with you about the Jewish community of Belgrade, but that's a whole other story and you may contact me off line about that.

Shabbat shalom, and best to you!

Mark

My 2 hours as a Columbian Vallenato Bassist

"aka done stranger things, but can't rightly recall when"

OK, so there I am at the Lowell Folk Festival. Jet lagged, worn out from a busy week at my violin shop, and looking to be a bit drunk on my new home infused vodka. Mark Halata and Texavia, the group who I've come to play with, has just put in a fine solid set of Texas- Czech Polka, C&W and assorted Gulf Coast sounds to an very appreciative dance crowd.

I decide to stick around and check out the next act, Sensacion Vallenata con Gustavo Nieto from the DC area. Now I'm a big fan of vallenato, a Columbian accordion based dance music that gave the world the "cumbia," and I have a couple of CD's that date from the classic 70's era when the music first started getting attention outside of it's home. I really dug the way the bass seemed to lazily lope through the tunes, working in conjunction with the percussion. Relaxed and behind the beat like old-school Reggae for instance. My pal Mike Maddux even has a vallento band here in Austin that I enjoy seeing. He's informed me however that the music has progressed quite a bit from the old records I like so much, with a VERY active and busy bass style. (For lack of a better analogy: I like the marijuana bass, and it's the cocaine bass favored today, if you will;-)

Having never seen a real live Colombian playing the new complex style, I begged off returning to the hotel for a much needed rest and hung out on the side of the stage with the amiable monitor mix man. We watched the band set up and immediately there seemed to be a problem. No bass player. They were all set up ready to play and there was no sign of the bassist (or their lead singer as it turned out.) Now I don't speak much Spanish but I did wave the accordion player over and inquire. He tells me, I think, that the bass player drove up from DC and got caught in a storm and was running late. He was mighty upset about it.

Gustavo Nieto

Well says I, "Yo toquar el basso, in estilio de Tejano." "Vamanos!" says he.

As I amble onstage I note It's a good sized band; with accordion and 4 percussionists and vocals all around. I can see in their eyes that they are spooked. It's a big festival gig, and 3 members of their band aren't there for the down beat on the big dance stage. Then some goofy looking Guerro in a cowboy hat crawls up on stage and sets up a bass amp. It must have been unnerving. They had a large plastic bottle of "Coke" which was actually the best Rum I ever had, and everybody was taking a hit to calm their nerves. They put me between 2 percussionist and only one spoke much English. The accordionist turns to me, gives me a key, plays a bit of the melody and then we're off.

OK, let's go back to what I noted before. I dig the "classicos" style of laid-back cumbia and I even know a few hits ("El Gota Fria," "Matilda Linda," etc..) so I can fake it. But only to a point. I suck it up, remembering that the whitey's like me in the audience will never know the difference, watch the boys for cues and concentrate on summoning the booty motivator. Whatever I'm playing seems to be working, and the dance floor is packed. The rum is mixing with the vodka from before and that mixed with jet lag and exhaustion I have mildly left my body. There's only one tune I bow out of; a meringue a style I know nothing about at all. The boys in the band are all smiles, and they are a rocking. Killer vocals, aggressive, funky accordion and a deep, deep percussion section. A total blast to play with.

After 90 minutes, and a sweaty dance floor, it's over. After I pack up, the boys all come over to thank me for hanging in. In my best attempt a Spanish I try and tell them that I hope I didn't embarrass them too awful bad. I collapse into a waiting shuttle and head to the arms of Morpheus.

Next morning I'm told that the bassist and the other members of the band were in fact in Lowell that night. They just couldn't find the festival. (Insert bass player joke here.)

Never did get a chance to hear them play, though the staff said the regular bassist was indeed a virtuoso, busy player. (I'm also told that the festival crew liked the band better when I was playing with them, but what do they know from Vallenato?)

One of the things I like most about big folk festivals is that you get to see and interact with some many great different styles of music. It's not often I get to sit in as well! Lets see what happens next week when I go up to the Festival for Cultural Exchange in Portland Maine.

Mark Vs. Jimmy Sturr

Several months back I got a call from what seemed to be a nice journalist fellow in Boston MA. Evidently he had been assigned to do a story on a well known East Coast Polka performer named Jimmy Sturr. While researching the story he did a Google search (and that seems to be just about all journalists do these days it seems for research) and found this cute thread on the newsgroup:

"Subject: Re: Question - Who is Jimmy Sturr ?-WHO CARES?
View: Complete Thread (17 articles)
Newsgroups: alt.music.polkas
Date: 1996/07/25
Dave Bedrich wrote:
 
For the sake of real polka music, Jimmy Sturr should be
banned from performing. This guy gives Czech, Polish and
German music a bad name. pure commercialized CRAP.
Amen Brother!
There's an old Yiddish saying that the Grandson wants to know most what the Grandfather has tried hard to forget.
It's probably easy to target Sturr, you can't begrudge his commercial success. But what he has to do with polka is beyond me. I've seen the Sturr show twice in as many years, and while I'm sure some would consider him an engaging showman, I found his performance glitzy and hollow, devoid of the very elements of soul that drew me to polka music in the first place. A few more generations subjected to Sturr, and the many others who follow lockstep in his "crossover" wake, and they'll be no tradition left in polka music.
I can't see that happening here in Texas, though. Folks 'round here still attach a great sense of community, a shared heritage and cultural pride in their polka, whether it makes them any money or not.
Just one fan's observations.
Mark Rubin"

Well, I'll tell you I learned two valuable lessons the day this guy calls me. 1) what you say on line stays around for all to see FOREVER, and 2) I still feel very much the same way 8 years later.

So Mr. Big City Paper Writer asks me to elaborate on my on line comments form so long ago. I commence to spend around 2 hours on the phone with this fellow all the while trying real hard to choose my words carefully. I've heard lots of negative squak about Sturr's bubble gum version of Polka culture from just about every musician I'd encountered here in Texas, Mr. Bedrich (see above) included. I was VERY important for me to make clear that I am not a Polka person, just a geeky fan, and that I spoke entirely from the perspective as an outsider. More importantly I felt it was important to give voice to those musicians that I had met and worked with who ARE polka people and would never get a call from a writer from Boston.

I hoped that I could reasonably speak on the nature of folk music created within a specific community, the multiple levels of context that informs that cultural expression through dance and music. And how that wasn't necessarily a purley vocational pursuit and that maybe that in fact wasn't such a bad thing after all.

I also brought up what I though was a provocative question as to why someone born and raised an Irishman, like Mr. Sturr, would want to change his surname for professional reasons and pass himself off as a "polka person," (the accepted codified language for Slavic-Americans.) Only to then bemoan the low pay scale of his career choice all too late in life. It seemed more than a little bit sad and pathetic, on many levels.

It's a situation that I, an Okie Jew, have been presented with on many, many occasions. I myself have performed on Festival stages literally across the world representing the cultural expression of groups that I AM IN NO WAY A MEMBER OF; Texas-Polish, Texas-Moravian, Texas-Mexican, Persian, Armenian and even Anglo Texan. At no time have I ever been confused that I was in fact an Okie Jew just lucky enough to be playing with these groups. And I tend to feel that reason I am afforded any respect from those communities is because everyone Iπm involved with musically is quite clear about my identity and my intents. I will never forget the first time I performed with Santiago Jimenez, Jr. outside of the US. Moments before we went onstage he stopped me, looked me straight in the eye and said "Tonight, you represent the people of San Antonio. Don't forget it." I took that to mean that I must hold myself to the highest professional standard onstage and off, all the while not forgetting I am not actually a hispanic person from San Antonio.

From interviews I've read in the press, I think Mr. Sturr has most likely forgotten that he's "not from San Antonio" if you get my drift...

OK, that's what I though I said. Here's what made it to print:
Mark Rubin also checked out the boys, but for a different reason.
Rubin played bass and tuba in the Bad Livers, an acclaimed
Texas-based roots band that released a half-dozen albums from
1992 to 2000. He's produced polka bands, and he knew about
Sturr's Grammys. He wanted to see the man behind them. He
wasn't pleased.

``It reminded me of a really smarmy Vegas act,'' says Rubin. ``It
was really quite depressing.''

As Rubin sees it, Sturr is so desperate to commercialize polka,
he's forgotten why people play it.

``It's just an indicator of how culturally void the American culture
  has become,'' says Rubin. ``Polka is not supposed to be  
commercial. For me, it was kind of sad.''
 
 Other detractors have not been quite as tactful.
  
 ``For the sake of real polka music, Jimmy Sturr should be
  banned from performing,''  one disgruntled fan writes on the
  alt.music.polkas newsgroup.
 
  ``This guy gives Czech, Polish, and German music a bad name. Pure commercialized CRAP.''
 
The criticism does bother Sturr.
 
``They're not purists,'' he says. ``They're dumbbells.''
 
For context's sake,you can read the whole article here.

Well, I guess I can blame the editors. After all these years I should really know better than try and have an actual conversation with someone who in fact is only really listening when what you tell him someting that fits into his preconceived agenda.

Personally, I didn't think much of it until someone directed my attention to the, um, reaction to the article right there on the old chat room again. Most involved me getting my ass kicked by a gentleman with the delightful e-mail address "polkabiker," (now there's two communities you don't see getting together enough.)

Most disturbingly, tucked in all the discussion was this missive from the PRESIDENT OF ROUNDER RECORDS (not coincidently Mr. Sturr's record label, who has made quite a good coin selling his music) who felt the need to address this pressing issue and evidently had the free time expend on the subject. As I had originally feared, he felt the need to "out" me as a Polka nobody. Oh yeah, that and my old band sucked too. Read on:
From: Ken Irwin (keni@rounder.com)
Subject: Re: Globe article on Sturr   
Newsgroups: alt.music.polkas
Date: 2003-09-09 14:07:09 PST

 
In correspondence with the writer following the release of the
article, I pointed out that it was inappropriate for a writer to quote
an anonymous contributor to a list and further went on to say that
if I were to do so, I could find negative things to say about the
Pope,or anyone else on a given list serve. Geoff conceded that
that was a good point as he did about my point that Mark Rubin
was not necessarily the most appropriate person in the polka
field to check with. I went to on to point out that if you were to
speak to a traditional old-time musician, many would likely have
scandalous things to say about Mark's group the Bad Livers.
 

Wow.
Until then, I had always counted Mr. Irwin as one of the good guys in the business, and had shopped quite a few Polka releases to his company. Now I see why he passed on all of them without comment. Disappointed is not quite the word.

I will however tell you that since all that ruckus came up I have received so many positive e-mail and letters from hard working polka musicians from all over who appreciated my comments and wished they'd said the very same thing. As long as they all buy me a beer when they run into, it will have all been worth it.

Lessons learned from this experience:
1) Don't EVER post to newsgroups unless you care to talk about a decade later.
2) No matter what you say prepared to have it taken down wrong.
3) Evidently I'll never be a Rounder Records recording artist!

Caveat internet!