by Michelle Haft
It was nine years ago I was standing on the streets of San Francisco clutching a large, heavy black banjo case, making my way up Fourth street towards Civic Center.
I arrived at a dull, gray apartment building and entered, shuffling my way through the narrow mirrored lobby while trying not to scuff the eggshell walls with my banjo case. The creaky metal accordion gate of the elevator groaned as I slid it open and made my way up to the third floor. Muggle no more, I was anxious to finally meet my new teacher for my first banjo lesson ever.
Years later, i’m an avid bluegrass banjo player helping to run a non profit supporting women in bluegrass. I couldn’t have imagined the impact this music and community would have on me: inspiration, creativity, friendships and personal growth. I recently started reading the iconic Harry Potter book series and during this wonderful journey into the world of wizardry it struck me the similarities between it and my own bluegrass community. On that day seven years ago I must have felt a lot like Harry Potter did standing in front of platform Nine and Three Quarters, suitcase and caged owl in hand, anxious to cross over into a new, unknown world.
Much like the world of wizardry, Bluegrass is full of long-held traditions and mystical lore of bluegrassers past. A unique, idiosyncratic social etiquette guides community members, passed down from generation to generation through moonlit porch jams and county fairs.
Wizards attend Quidditch World Cups and feasts in the Great Hall of Hogwarts, showing off their best spells beneath floating candles and an enchanted ceiling made to look like the open sky. We have our IBMA World of Bluegrass and Merlefest, where bluegrassers gather in jam circles under the real night sky, lit by twinkling cafe lights, and play till sunrise. Tools of magic like wands and Nimbus 2000 broomsticks stashed away in an old wizard’s trunk are likened to our vintage Gibson guitars and blue chip picks tucked inside instrument cases.
We too have sub-genres like in Harry’s world—Potions and Herbology are like our newgrass and bluegrass traditionalists. We learn from our elders—the Tony Rices, Alice Gerrards, Laurie Lewis’ and Del McCourys—and practice with our peers. And yes, we too have our Dark Arts, the folks that try to make bluegrass exclusive and elitist when bluegrass was always meant to be music for the common folk. But the good always prevails in the world of bluegrass.
Harry’s experience going to Hogwarts as a first year student reminded me a lot of going to music camps in my early days of bluegrass. The experience is totally overwhelming, bustling and full of magical surprises. Surrounded by other eager students and quirky characters of the music scene we all fumble our way through our lessons hoping not to make fools of ourselves and maybe even impress our teachers. We learn more knowledge than we can possibly take in, hoping to retain even a sliver of it when we leave. We make lifelong music friendships—our Hermoines and Rons—who become future partners in bands. Like the quest for the House Cup It’s slightly competitive but mostly just plain old fun. Our shared love of bluegrass brings us all together like the young wizards in the great hall of Hogwarts, houses united in solidarity.
It takes six years at Hogwarts to become an able wizard. Bluegrassers similarly hone their craft over many years through practice and commitment, regular jamming and festival-going, gigs at local bars and farmers markets, and street side busking. Many great bluegrassers had humble beginnings, even Dursleys of their own who questioned their passion for this music along the way.
The power of bluegrass music is just as intoxicating as a magic potion. It is transfigurative to the spirit. We bluegrassers share something unique and special that brings us together, something you can only understand and truly appreciate from the inside.
Bluegrass is magic any way you cut it. It feels good to have the magic in me, as I hope it does for you all too.
Bluegrassium Leviosa!