The Valley is well stocked with musicians and their eternal churn of projects that intertwine and overlap, form and dissolve. It's a challenge to stay abreast of all those goings-on, and likewise a challenge to make sense of the whole landscape of CDs and press releases that make their way to the Advocate.
A few of those submissions are inevitably the well-executed products of excellent musicians making distinctive sounds, and the rest run a wide gamut from inexplicable to pretty good. But choosing what makes it to these pages is far from simple.
Over time, it's easy to see an underlying pattern to the madness. It's something like looking at the strata on a canyon wall. The youngest musicians inject new energy, driving a constantly renewing stew of projects, most of which burn bright, then recede. Those in their 20s and 30s tend to find a niche and put tremendous energy into whatever currently constitutes "making it." The drive to make a career of music hardly goes away because of age, though, even if the arrival of things like marriage and kids attenuates the compulsion to drag gear to far corners of the earth and play shows into the small hours.
That's why there's another level entirely, a group of active musicians who've been playing in the Valley for decades. Some of them "made it" in the past and some didn't. Some of them are tireless trekkers, making the haul to anywhere and everywhere in the Valley and the broader region to make a joyful noise. The list is quite long, but a few of the most oft-heard names are Ray Mason, Jim Armenti, Tony Vacca, Jo Sallins, Ed Vadas, Guy Devito and June Millington. They get called things like "statesmen," "veterans" or "stalwarts." But their long-term dedication to making music means they are, no matter how they get referred to, akin to the cornerstones, the permanent structures of the Valley's massive collection of musicians.
This week, when news about another of those musicians, Roger Salloom, arrived in the office, it occasioned examination of an important question: what makes musical news that's really newsworthy? Salloom is the subject of a documentary called So Glad I Made It, in part a look at his near-miss with fame decades ago. In the wake of the film, Salloom has continued playing and making albums (the latest is Last Call) of folk- and blues-tinged rock and received widespread praise for his efforts. On Salloom's website, it says, "Imagine Jack Kerouac, John Belushi, Lord Buckley, Lenny Bruce, The Diggers, and throw in Leadbelly, Jimmy Reed, Lonnie Johnson, Geoff Muldaur, Dan Penn… all rolled into one person, and you have a glimpse of this poet, singer/songwriter." Whether that's hyperbole or not, it's worth noting that Last Call is currently number 40 on the Americana Music Association's radio-play chart. (On Feb. 13, Salloom and band host a Valentine's Day concert at Look Park in Northampton, and a portion of the proceeds go to a fund for victims of the December arsons.)
When Salloom and his colleagues continue doing what they've always done, playing in the style they've long established, the question always arises: is it newsworthy? How many profiles and interviews over the long-term history of the Advocate are sufficient? Is it somehow more newsworthy when a new crop of young players form a band, simply because that effort hasn't seen the light of day till now?
The challenge, maybe even duty, is to listen to the new creations of established musicians, the musicians listeners have come to expect particular things from, with fresh ears. It's simply unfair to treat those players as wax figures—often their experienced ears lead them to create something every bit as innovative as the product of the latest prodigies.
It's a needle that's always in need of threading. Older musicians are vital to younger musicians, and their efforts don't cease being important whether they defy expectation or not. Certainly, too, it's the job of a paper which places the arts in a vaunted position to reflect the variety of projects, good, bad, old or new that unfold in the Valley. That's why our Behind the Beat column covers the newest bands every week, and why the Nightcrawler offers the latest from all corners of the region. But what remains when you've unearthed a slew of the new?
Inevitably, there's a background hum, the ongoing sound of the old guard going about the business of making music with the perseverance that's driven them for years. Those efforts are important, regardless of the sheen of newness. It's our hope that those musicians remain part of the mix in print, coming into view often enough that long-time readers remember their presence, get a chance to be surprised anew, and new readers discover the foundations of the Valley's current cauldron of unceasing music-making.
