A longtime and beloved friend and I went to the opening night of Billy Strings’ two night run at Terminal West in Atlanta. A quartet of super bluegrass and acoustic musicians, Billy Strings is on the rise and developing a loyal following. And for good reason. As a rabbi (and human being) I tend to reflect on the spiritual dimensions of different experiences and phenomena. Live music is often a gateway to spiritual insight. With no pretensions of profundity or originality, I found myself revisiting two spiritual themes as I enjoyed Billy Strings.
First, Billy Strings’ voice and his body don’t match. His voice has a maturity and timelessness to it. His phrasing and singing have a kind of wisdom, insight, and mastery that seem mismatched for someone so young and slight. Listening to him sing, I felt like I was hearing ancient voices use him as a conduit. Rather than singing, I felt like he was transmitting, somewhere between possessed and inspired. It felt like the ghosts of bluegrass and all the precursors to bluegrass where channeling themselves through him. I enjoyed hearing those ghosts and Billy interact.
Second, it was clear to me that Billy Strings has a vision. He hears something. And he’s going after it. Even though there were times when I found myself uninterested in going along for the ride, I appreciated being in the presence of someone who is going after something. Some sort of sound, vision, idea, energy. I got the feeling that the things he’s chasing are both within and beyond him.
Third (I guess there are three), I enjoyed being in the presence of a group of musicians striving to achieve present moment awareness. Billy Strings isn’t going through the motions. They’re listening, interacting, conversing, and communing on stage. It takes a lot of presence and awareness to do what they’re doing. And I appreciated being in the presence of something real, something aspirational.
Fourth (I guess there are four), my buddy and I left in the middle of the second set. Even with ear plugs, we’d heard enough. It was loud and crowded, and I guess we’re getting old. But we left fully satisfied. As Matt said to me on our way to the car, “Bluegrass is bluegrass.” And there’s something spiritual in that sentiment. Each bluegrass musician or ensemble, at least the truly great ones, make their contribution and leave their mark, but bluegrass is…. bluegrass.
Fifth (I know), it’s kind of incredible the way that a mandolin, bass, acoustic guitar, and banjo, sound when they are all played together in an ensemble setting. I’m grateful to God for giving me the ability to hear such a full and beautiful sound.