State of the Arts: Acoustic Music
by Chris Roberts
Minnesota Public Radio
June 28, 2002

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Minnesota has more than its share of extremely talented folk and acoustic music artists, yet they rarely get played on the radio and have fewer opportunities to play live because of a lack of venues.

Ask Marv Menzel, longtime proprietor of the Homestead Pickin' Parlor in Richfield to sum up the state of acoustic music in Minnesota and he swells with pride.

"I think we are fortunate to live in this area of the country," says Menzel. "It is indeed one of the hotbeds."

The common refrain among acoustic aficionados is that Minnesota is blessed with great artists, but lacking in places to see and hear them. They almost universally credit Minnesota Public Radio's A Prairie Home Companion with building and nurturing the scene. Still, according to Bob Feldman, owner of the folk label Red House Records in St. Paul, acoustic musicians barely register in the American cultural zeitgeist.

"People that make their careers in folk music are like people in the witness protection program, people know they're out there, it's just hard to find them," says Feldman. "You know they're not in the commercial mainstream, they're like stealth artists flying under the radar of the commercialism in America of music."

Feldman says folk and acoustic artists have been squeezed out by hyper-consolidation in the radio and music industry, and have had to win their fans one at a time, through hundreds of performances a year.

"That's the great thing about folk music is that, they have a personal relationship with the audience and as a record label we have a personal relationship with the people that support our artists."

There are few audiences more loyal than acoustic music fans, which is why Neal Hadberg and Leandra Peak, a.k.a. Neil and Leandra, have been able to carve out a nice living over fifteen years of touring and recording. But it hasn't been easy. Neil and Leandra, and most of their folk contemporaries, refer to themselves as singer/songwriters, not folk artists because of the images people carry of folk.

"When you mention the word folk, immediately people throw you into the early 60's." says Hadberg. "No, we're not - we do completely different things - but people have no frame of reference because there is no pop culture reference to folk music."

Leandra Peak says there's a division within the 'folk community as well.

"There's always the talk if you open any trade magazine devoted to folk music, there will be some sort of argument about who's a real folk singer and who's not," says Peak. Some people take the line that if you're not doing folk music from 500 years ago in the British Isles, then you're not doing real folk music. Singer-songwriters aren't folk musicians, they're rehashing popular music using an acoustic guitar and that doesn't make them a troubadour. So even within the community you're kind of scared to call yourself a folk singer because someone is going to point at you and say 'not really.'"

For younger artists, like Fargo native Brenda Weiler, whose fans are younger, the term folk arouses even more negative connotations.

"Unfortunately I think it turns people off right away when they hear that term. I always say 'folk-slash-rock' because it just brings in more people - it doesn't turn them off. And I understand that because I feel the same way, or I used to."

Weiler is another songwriter who lives off her art, playing an average of a hundred shows a year, all over the Midwest and east coast. She's moving to Portland, Oregon soon in hopes of building a fan base out west. Weiler believes folk's greatest strength is the way people deeply connect with the music and get sustenance from it. Its weakness, she says is two-fold; scant radio airplay, and too few venues where artists can make a living wage. At most coffeehouses, there aren't cover charges, only tip jars, and according to Weiler it's almost impossible to break into the club scene.

"You know they want to bring in people that drink, cause they make their money off of alcohol, and acoustic artists don't really bring that kind of a crowd. I was going to say 'unfortunately' but it's not unfortunate because I don't want those people there either."

Few venues have been as aggressive and sophisticated in marketing their music as Kathy Sundberg at the Gingko Coffeehouse, which she opened nine years ago. Sundberg often turns the space into a listening room for a concert, no espresso hissing or purchases allowed. On Thursday nights, she often brings in bigger name artists. Sundberg says the acoustic scene, at least in the Twin Cities, does need more intermediate sized spaces that are larger than coffee houses yet smaller then the Cedar Cultural Center or the Guthrie Theater. But Sundberg's more worried about what acoustic music is up against.

"There's a lot of competition from other entertainment and it's not just other music," said Sundberg. "Like if you listen to the local news, they have ten minutes dedicated to new movies coming out of Hollywood instead of doing ten minutes on a local performer."

One form of acoustic music that's exploded over the last ten years is bluegrass and old time music. Dolono's pizza is bluegrass central in Minneapolis on Friday and Saturday nights, and the place is usually jammed.

"Well, the bluegrass and old time music scene is just thriving in Minnesota."

Katryn Conlyn plays in two bluegrass bands and for many years was a board member of the Minnesota Bluegrass and Old Time Music Association.

"There are dozens of bands. There's a handful of really good bands that would compare well on a national level. There are hundreds of people playing the music, and I suppose that translates into thousands of people who listen as well. I think this music is really popular here because it's so authentic and Minnesotans can smell artificiality, and they crave authenticity, and bluegrass and old time music is just part of that pattern."

Conlyn says the "Oh Brother Where Art Thou" phenomenon has brought even more people into the fold because it's made bluegrass "cool." But Conlyn says old time and especially bluegrass music is musicians' music, and the potential for jam sessions whets people's appetites.

Every Saturday at the Prairie Star Coffeehouse in St. Paul, an old time and bluegrass jam session starts at nine in the morning and runs into the afternoon. And that, according to many is one of the primary strengths of acoustic music: its welcoming attitude to anybody who shows an interest. Homestead Pickin' Parlor's Marv Menzel calls it a music of the people.

"The people who want to listen to it, come in and buy CDs, the people who want to play it, come in and take lessons," said Menzel. "It's their music...that's the way it should be."