Tag Archives: Garrison Keillor

A Prairie Home Apology to Chris Thile

Chris Thile/ Photo by Devin Pedde / livefromhere.org

This morning I came across a BuzzFeed list of “21 Signs You’re Officially An Old Person,” and not surprisingly I connected with about half of them. Indeed, I had to hand crank the windows of my old cars, carried around both a flip phone and an iPod Classic at the same time, used a card catalog at the library, put photos in a photo album, and lately I’ve noticed that I involuntarily make a noise whenever I stand up. On the other hand, I still enjoy listening to new music, have never watched Golden Girls, can’t tell the weather with my knees, and don’t yet need to lower the volume on the radio when I put my car in reverse. Best I can figure, I’m simply a middle-aged man with Peter Pan syndrome, trapped inside a body manufactured in the summer of 1951 and delivered the following February.

Earlier this month I downloaded an expensive meditation app at the suggestion and cost of my employer to improve my emotional health, relieve stress, control anxiety, lengthen attention span, address memory loss, and … I forget the rest. If this program wasn’t also offered to all 120,000 of my fellow team members, I might have thought it was specifically directed toward me and my job performance. But alas, it’s rare to work for a corporation that actually cares about their employees’ well-being, so I have dutifully taken anywhere from one minute to a dozen each day to just do it. Old dog, new trick: I like it.

A week or two before I began my new meditative journey, I was driving home from work on a Saturday night and turned on Live From Here, the radio show hosted by Chris Thile formerly known as A Prairie Home Companion. It was at the precise moment of the above video performance with Thile and Chris Eldridge, minus the spoken introduction, that the notes and interplay of mandolin and guitar affixed to my brain as if by super glue. Not only could I not stop thinking about it, but when I began to meditate it would interrupt my concentration on breathing. And it was not some weird attachment to an old J.S. Bach-written Glenn Gould recording, but an unconsciously unresolved resentment toward Thile that took me weeks to identify.

Call it coincidence or perhaps some sort of cosmic time realignment, but that skit was performed on Oct. 15, 2016. It was the very first show that officially featured Thile as host, taking over for Garrison Keillor. It was a truly a great show, featuring a new house band and guests Maeve Higgins, Lake Street Dive, and Jack White along with a number of special guests and collaborations that included Margo Price, Sarah Jarosz, Brittany Haas, and Paul Kowert. In that week’s Broadside column I wrote:

“Although it wouldn’t have been fair to expect that Thile would offer up the intellectual depth or comedic talents of Keillor, the applause coming through my car radio speakers sounded as if he won over the crowd at the Fitzgerald Theater with a stellar band and great guests. As you can hear for yourself, the show continued with the tradition of delivering the goods in American roots music.”

Thirteen months after that great opening show, Minnesota Public Radio announced it was terminating all of its business relationships with Keillor as a result of allegations of inappropriate behavior. While he denied multiple accusations, a long public disentanglement commenced and, as Keillor owned the trademark for the name A Prairie Home Companion, Thile’s show began broadcasting under its new name, Live From Here.

It was and continues to be a tough time for those who were deeply touched by the talent and spectacle of over four decades with Keillor and his Saturday night radio shows. Throughout the years I’ve loved the music and humor, could picture Lake Wobegon in my mind, read the man’s books, watched a lot of videos, loved the Robert Altman film enough to buy it, and added hours and hours of musical and comedic show snippets into my digital jukebox that remain to this day.

Over the past three years I have dropped in and out of Live From Here. Instead of purposely tuning it in each week and attending the shows when they come to town, I simply punch the dial when I’m in the car on Saturday nights, grabbing musical moments on the fly. Often I’ll visit the show’s YouTube page, which is probably the greatest source and presentation of modern-day roots music performances you’ll find. Kudos to them for posting them each week. When it comes to the non-musical portions of the shows, rarely have I found the comedy to be very funny, and Thile’s “oh boy gee whiz” excitement about almost everything hasn’t yet been contagious to these old ears. And what’s up with shouting “Ahoy!” throughout the show?

That aside, I awoke this morning, did a five-minute guided meditation, and made a mental note that I, or perhaps speaking for the collective “we,” need to acknowledge that we are quite blessed to have Chris Thile both perform and present the music we endear. He has stepped out from the shadow of Keillor that I’ve held onto and resented him for and created a new tradition and pathway. He is respectful of the old, enchanted with the current. And for that, I personally feel I owe him an apology, and am fortunate to have this soapbox where I can do so publicly.

Regarding that BuzzFeed list of “signs you’re officially an old person,” I’d like to add one more: You grew up listening to A Prairie Home Companion and are still pissed off that it’s not on anymore. My newly acquired post-enlightenment advice? Get over it.

Postscript: Shortly after publishing this column I went to two successive Live From Here broadcasts at Town Hall in NYC. Damn, they were great. Beyond my expectations and it’s the best place to be in Manhattan in a Saturday night, save for when they venture out or are on hiatus. One note of irony: on the second floor of the venue in a small alcove near the bar, there are about a hundred black and white photographs featuring headshots of people who have performed there in the past. In the middle looking down at the line pf people buying beverages and snacks is Garrison Keillor.

Many of my past columns, articles, and essays can be accessed here at my own site, therealeasyed.com. I also aggregate news and videos on both Flipboard and Facebook as The Real Easy Ed: Americana and Roots Music Daily. My Twitter handle is @therealeasyed and my email address is easyed@therealeasyed.com

The Prairie Home Antidote For American Political Anxiety

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By the time this column is published, the last presidential debate will have either occurred or been cancelled, more women may or may not have come out to tell their stories of sexual abuse at the hands of a repulsive Republican nominee, Wikileaks will have posted information that indicates HRC is indeed a typical hack politician who says one thing to one group and something completely different to others, accusations will be made, lies will be told, and 92 percent of Americans will have already decided who they’ll vote for in less than three weeks.

If life was fair, we could just hit the the fast-forward button, race to the punch line, and be done with it all.

Whether you lean to the left or feel proud to be alt-right, everyone in our country is in the same boat: The U.S.S. Stressed Out.

While I think a solid argument could be made for dumping a strong dose of Xanax into the nation’s water supply, many humans find natural ways to soothe our souls and chill out when the going gets tough. Exercise, eating good food, hanging out with friends, dancing, taking nature walks, getting a massage, watching sporting events … you get the idea. And with 286,942,362 Americans currently connected to the internet, many are shopping, doing research, streaming films and music, engaging in meaningful dialogue on social media (yeah … I’m joking) and, of course, there’s always porn. Back in 2013 Google reported that there were more visits to porn sites than Amazon, Netflix, and Twitter combined. It’s huge!

But all this is just locker room banter — boy talk.

So lets get to the music.

Almost every Saturday night when I get off from work, I run to my car and turn on A Prairie Home Companion. Not one to actually sit still in front of the living room radio for two hours each week like they did back in the old days, my experience with Garrison Keillor and crew has always been more hit-and-miss. Fifteen minutes here, another five or ten there. Catch a comedy sketch, listen to a musical interlude. Over the years, I’ve read Keillor’s books, watched a lot of videos, loved the Robert Altman film enough to own it, and I have hours and hours of show snippets sitting in the digital jukebox that I liberally sprinkle into my playlists.

Last week, October 15 to be exact, was the official coming out party for Chris Thile as the new host of APHC. This is a great opportunity for Thile, but ever since Keillor announced his retirement, his departure has been mourned by many as the end of a grand American institution. I too have shared my own trepidation and despair on these pages as well. But surprise, surprise, surprise!

With the weight of the daily news cycle on my head and politics consuming my thoughts, it was with a low threshold of anticipation that I tuned into the show while driving home from work, and was confronted with the perfect antidote for my ballot box blues.

Making my way home, I hopped in and out of my car a few times — at the local Korean market for steamed fish and rice, a quick sprint through Trader Joe’s for uncured all-natural beef hot dogs, zucchini, and coffee, the local fluff and fold — and sweet music flowed in my ears every moment I was behind the wheel. Although it wouldn’t have been fair to expect that Thile would offer up the intellectual depth or comedic talents of Keillor, the applause coming through my car radio speakers sounded as if he won over the crowd at the Fitzgerald Theater with a stellar band and great guests. As you can hear for yourself, the show continued with the tradition of delivering the goods in American roots music.

This was originally published as an Easy Ed’s Broadside column at No Depression dot com. Because of space consideration I didn’t include a few other videos that I wanted to share, featuring Jack White, Margo Price and Lake Street Dive. And so now, here they are.

A Prairie Home Companion: From Panic Attack to Paradigm Shift

I awoke when it was still dark outside, a good hour before my alarm was set to go off. At a slow and deliberate pace, with my eyes shut tight and my arms stretched out in front of me waving around like a zombie as if I actually needed to feel my way through the six feet of empty space between the edge of my bed and the door to the bathroom, I tried hard to think of nothing. It is usually at this precise moment, as my body is responding to its natural calling, that my brain either chooses to stay in it’s restful state or begins to come alive, like a chick breaking through an eggshell. It is mighty rare that I’ll manage to climb back into the bed, pull the covers up past my chin, and slip back to my safe place.

On most days I lose the battle, as my thoughts and anxieties will surface from the deep and pull me from sleep. And it was indeed such a morning this past week, that I stood naked doing what I was doing when, in a flash, my eyes opened wide, a cold breeze caused my body to shudder, goosebumps popped up, and a buried memory of Garrison Keillor standing on the edge of the stage at St. Paul’s Fitzgerald Theater singing an Elvis Presley medley came barreling toward me. Forsaking the flush, I jumped onto my bed, reached for the MacBook, and with credit card numbers dancing in my head I searched for tickets to the three upcoming A Prairie Home Companion shows at New York City’s Town Hall. Sold out. A cold sweat and anxiety ensued.

Most readers of this column are likely well aware of Keillor’s live radio variety show, which features musical guests of almost every genre (but in particular, traditional folk, blues, jazz, and gospel), devastating comedy skits, old fashioned radio drama themes, commercials from fictitious products, and the storytelling skills of Keillor, its host.

A Prairie Home Companion‘s first show took place in 1974 with an audience of 12 people, and after a couple of shifts in venues and a two-year hiatus in the late 1980s, over four million people tune in every Saturday evening on over 500 public radio stations in the United States. The show is also broadcast in the U.K., Australia, New Zealand, Europe, on the Armed Forces Radio Network, Sirius Satellite Radio, and an online stream.

While I’m sure there is a humongous group of fans who plan their Saturday nights around the broadcast and have never missed a single show, my own listening patterns are probably the norm for many. If I’m in the car and I know it’s on, I’ll find a station on the left side of the dial so I that can listen. Occasionally, but not too often, I’ll tune in while at home. I’ve also been in the audience on several occasions in St. Paul and New York, and screened Robert Altman’s film of the same name about 50 times.

There are also about ten or so albums that my two kids grew up listening to. Any car trip lasting an hour or more would always be an opportunity to hear some “News from Lake Wobegone” or an episode of “Guy Noir, Private Detective.” We liked to listen to the the Hopeful Gospel Quartet, the Duets and anniversary albums, and the three-disc Comedy Theater set that also includes many of the great commercials. I like to think that we were an A Prairie Home Companion family, despite periods of diversion with Radio Disney and Weird Al.

When Keillor announced his retirement this past June, and named Nickel Creek co-founder and Punch Brothers founder Chris Thile as host, I had a hard time imagining how the program could continue with a musician at the helm instead of a storyteller and humorist of Keillor’s magnitude, style, and wit. It was only this week that I realized that, as we head into the 2016-2017 season, things on this show are going to change. That realization gave me an overwhelming feeling of the loss of a trusty old friend, who’s there when you need them. It made me scramble to grab tickets to the New York City road shows before it all goes away … and it triggered a panic attack of sorts.

In a recent interview with the St. Paul Pioneer Press, Keillor noted he’ll be around all of this season. He will do some co-hosting with Thile, and he’ll continue as executive producer next season. He also spoke a bit about Thile, who made his first appearance on the show 19 years ago at the age of 15.

“He’s a brilliant musician. He’s just an amazing musician. Beyond that, he’s a good-hearted, outgoing person, much more than I. The show will have a solid musical foundation. We started out as a music show and then other things were added to it. And this new incarnation will evolve in the same way. We’re looking for writers to create some new serial business and we’ll see. The door is open to all kinds of comedians, sketch writers — interesting, dorky people who write comedy.”

For his part, Thile told the Burlington Free Press that he’s still formulating ideas on how A Prairie Home Companion will change once he settles into the host role, but he expects it will reflect a musician is in charge. “He’s [Keillor] created something that will stand the test of time,” he told that paper. “I look forward to taking that and running with it. Since I’m a musician there will probably be more music, but as an ardent admirer of the show I will strive not to mess it up for anyone.”

All this talk about music, specifically, is pretty exciting, and it goes far beyond the weekly radio performance platform. Look around at most roots music gigs — festivals, house concerts, clubs, church basements, parks, wherever, whatever — and you’ll notice a sea of us with gray hair, who buy the tickets and crowd around the merch tables. We are the aging fan base, and while Thile represents hundreds of younger performers who are carrying forward and building on the traditional music, there also needs to be a generational change in the audience. Putting my trust in Keillor and Thile, I’m starting to feel as if A Prairie Home Companion could be the starting point of a significant musical paradigm shift. And with that, my panic attack is subsiding.

This was originally published at No Depression dot com, as an Easy Ed’s Broadside column.

Photo credit: Claudia Danielson