© Adam Granger
REVIEW: SOME OLD SOME NEW—THE PLATTE VALLEY BOYS
by Adam Granger
First, disclosure: I've known this band for 38 years. I emcee and perform at festivals at which they play and have spent hours hanging around the various festival campsites with them. That either creates an insurmountable bias in me, or it makes me all the better a person to review their new album, Some New Some Old. Fortunately for them, the only way for you readers to determine which is the case is to buy the CD and make your own judgment. What follows is mine.
The Platte Valley Boys have been around for over 30 years, and have, for as long, been the bluegrass conscience of the Upper Midwest, always taking a traditional approach, reminding listeners and colleagues where it all started. And irrespective of the fact that there is only one original member (Ron Colby), and regardless of the fact that at least one of the current members was but a gleam in her mama's eye when the band originally formed, they have steadfastly maintained that fealty to trad grass.
Thus it was with some curiosity—and a tad of trepidation—that I slipped their new CD, Some Old Some New, into my player. I was not disappointed: the Boys have made a fine album, recorded and performed in the traditional bluegrass style, but peppered with new numbers, country standards and innovative arrangements of old chestnuts.
The Plattes recorded Some Old Some New in guitarist Tony “Trashman” Andreason's living room, using a complex but successful two-mikes-into-a-matrix-interface setup which produced a “live” sound, while still allowing—unlike many single or focused-mike-cluster setups—all instruments to be heard at all times. Crank up the volume and close your eyes and the band is in front of you playing a command performance.
The album starts innocently enough, with a half-minute Fire on the Mountain howdy-do, and then launches into Dwight Yoakam's Since I Started Drinking Again, sung by mandolinist Scotty Stebbins with low and high harmonies by Andreason and banjoist Colby, respectively (with occasional exceptions, this is their vocal setup). Vince Gill's Hills of Caroline is next, followed by two Stebbins originals, Mother, Sister, Brother (check out Scotty's 80-year-old quavering voice as he sings “brother”) and Rose Ellen.
Charlie Rich's Thanks a Lot is next, and just when the listener starts to think that this is a contemporary country album done by a bluegrass band, here comes the Stanley Brothers' I Just Think I'll Go Away, followed by Jimmie Rodgers' Blue Yodel No 3 and Gill's When I Call Your Name. Not that I've tried, but these are very hard songs to sing, with wide tonal ranges and, on the latter, tortuous harmonies. The Boys nail 'em.
Next comes a divine gift from on high. During one session, the band had taken a break from recording and had eaten near-lethal quantities of pizza. In a desperate attempt at musical triage, they decided to rip into a purgative Rawhide. Lo and behold, a great take was born. Sometimes ya get a gift from on high. . .
It's back to country, then, with Waylon Jennings' I've Always Been Crazy and Are You Sure Hank Done It This Way, the Delmore Brothers' She Left Me Standing on a Mountain and the Overstreet/Schlitz classic When You Say Nothing at All. The final cut, Get Up John, rolls us all back into the Bluegrassville depot right on schedule.
Instrumentally, the band is on top of their game. Ron Colby plays wonderful banjo solos and underscore on some very non-banjo material; Tony Andreason, whose guitar always sounds like it has brand new strings on it, knows just when to say something, how much to say, and how to say it; and, bassist David Tousley, a veteran of a several fine bands, does yeoman duty without having it be All About The Bass. Oh, and here's a personal message to fiddler Catie Jo Pidel: Stop getting better, Catie Jo. Right now. I mean it! If you get any better, your eyes will start to rotate in opposite directions and your hands will fly off the end of your arms. Trust me; I've seen it happen.
I've heard all of the Platte Valley Boys incarnations (there have been 867), and this one may be the best. Some Old Some New will offend no one and delight everyone, and the same can be said of The Platte Valley Boys themselves. I can say nothing nicer about an album and a band.
by Adam Granger
First, disclosure: I've known this band for 38 years. I emcee and perform at festivals at which they play and have spent hours hanging around the various festival campsites with them. That either creates an insurmountable bias in me, or it makes me all the better a person to review their new album, Some New Some Old. Fortunately for them, the only way for you readers to determine which is the case is to buy the CD and make your own judgment. What follows is mine.
The Platte Valley Boys have been around for over 30 years, and have, for as long, been the bluegrass conscience of the Upper Midwest, always taking a traditional approach, reminding listeners and colleagues where it all started. And irrespective of the fact that there is only one original member (Ron Colby), and regardless of the fact that at least one of the current members was but a gleam in her mama's eye when the band originally formed, they have steadfastly maintained that fealty to trad grass.
Thus it was with some curiosity—and a tad of trepidation—that I slipped their new CD, Some Old Some New, into my player. I was not disappointed: the Boys have made a fine album, recorded and performed in the traditional bluegrass style, but peppered with new numbers, country standards and innovative arrangements of old chestnuts.
The Plattes recorded Some Old Some New in guitarist Tony “Trashman” Andreason's living room, using a complex but successful two-mikes-into-a-matrix-interface setup which produced a “live” sound, while still allowing—unlike many single or focused-mike-cluster setups—all instruments to be heard at all times. Crank up the volume and close your eyes and the band is in front of you playing a command performance.
The album starts innocently enough, with a half-minute Fire on the Mountain howdy-do, and then launches into Dwight Yoakam's Since I Started Drinking Again, sung by mandolinist Scotty Stebbins with low and high harmonies by Andreason and banjoist Colby, respectively (with occasional exceptions, this is their vocal setup). Vince Gill's Hills of Caroline is next, followed by two Stebbins originals, Mother, Sister, Brother (check out Scotty's 80-year-old quavering voice as he sings “brother”) and Rose Ellen.
Charlie Rich's Thanks a Lot is next, and just when the listener starts to think that this is a contemporary country album done by a bluegrass band, here comes the Stanley Brothers' I Just Think I'll Go Away, followed by Jimmie Rodgers' Blue Yodel No 3 and Gill's When I Call Your Name. Not that I've tried, but these are very hard songs to sing, with wide tonal ranges and, on the latter, tortuous harmonies. The Boys nail 'em.
Next comes a divine gift from on high. During one session, the band had taken a break from recording and had eaten near-lethal quantities of pizza. In a desperate attempt at musical triage, they decided to rip into a purgative Rawhide. Lo and behold, a great take was born. Sometimes ya get a gift from on high. . .
It's back to country, then, with Waylon Jennings' I've Always Been Crazy and Are You Sure Hank Done It This Way, the Delmore Brothers' She Left Me Standing on a Mountain and the Overstreet/Schlitz classic When You Say Nothing at All. The final cut, Get Up John, rolls us all back into the Bluegrassville depot right on schedule.
Instrumentally, the band is on top of their game. Ron Colby plays wonderful banjo solos and underscore on some very non-banjo material; Tony Andreason, whose guitar always sounds like it has brand new strings on it, knows just when to say something, how much to say, and how to say it; and, bassist David Tousley, a veteran of a several fine bands, does yeoman duty without having it be All About The Bass. Oh, and here's a personal message to fiddler Catie Jo Pidel: Stop getting better, Catie Jo. Right now. I mean it! If you get any better, your eyes will start to rotate in opposite directions and your hands will fly off the end of your arms. Trust me; I've seen it happen.
I've heard all of the Platte Valley Boys incarnations (there have been 867), and this one may be the best. Some Old Some New will offend no one and delight everyone, and the same can be said of The Platte Valley Boys themselves. I can say nothing nicer about an album and a band.
