Yay, 100! But that's irrelevant, compared to the artist I'm featuring here: Rhiannon Giddens, banjo player, fiddler, and wonderful vocalist. I don't have much to say, except that I learned about her about 20 years ago, via the Carolina Chocolate Drops. And then last night we saw and listened to her perform at our Golden State Theater, and it was amazing. Rhiannon and five others, sometimes six or seven. Roots music, with her minstrel banjo or a Cajun tune or two; music evoking the 1920s; and lots of love (or almost-love) songs.
This song about the experience of being a slave, "Come Love Come," is nicely done in this recorded version, but her performance last night was more powerful, a searing lament.
Here's her Tiny Desk Concert from three years ago. (She's chatty; keep scrolling if you lose interest. She won't know.)
I felt enriched by Rhiannon's (and the others') passion and talent, and by the American nature of the music. I keep feeling so conflicted over the course this country seems to be taking, which seems so idiotic to me—but then I'm reminded of the many treasures this culture, this diverse culture, has to offer. And I'm glad it's mine. (Then again, talk to me again in November...)
For now, I am so glad we went to hear and see Rhiannon Giddens perform. She's one of those treasures, for sure.
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