Doc Stevens

It has been a little more than two years since I did any writing for Doc Stevens. I have been studying at uni, and have difficulty with some of my exams. I have had to take extended breaks in order to pay my expenses. A lot has happened in my life and in Doc's life, Marilyn's life and their music. I have finally been able to come back to the States, and it was so god to be able to meet up with Doc and Marilyn and their friends again. It has been too long!
Over the last two years, Doc and Marilyn have solidified their music, and have added some consistent band members. For years, they have relied on whomever could get a day off work, or whoever was available to play at any particular event. They have a lot of friends who are good musicians, but it has always been a sore point, when discovering who had a change of plans at the last minute, and who would actually show up. They finally have a name for the band, and have pretty well with it. They play at festivals, family reunions, community and civic events, church concerts, reunions and other events, as well as pig pickin's and fish fries. They settled on the name, "The Doc Stevens and Marilyn Holy Ghost Band and Show." I asked Doc how they came up with that name, and he had on of his typical answers where you cannot be sure whether he is joking with you or being serious.

Here is what he said: "Well, Tondy, the Doc Stevens part was pretty easy. That's my name. The Marilyn part was also easy because that's Marilyn's name. The Holy Ghost part was pretty easy 'cause we're all filled with the Holy Ghost. The band part was easy because we all sing and play music together, so we added the word, 'band.' We show our high energy and our zeal, and aren't afraid to let it show, and that is where we got the word, 'show."

Somehow I feel like I shouldn't have asked, but Doc looks genuinely open and like he is telling me exactly how they came up with that name so I am not going to question him anymore about it or press him for any more details. They have collected a very talented group of musicians over the last two years. 

Jerry "Buttermilk" Wade plays lead guitar for them, and adds just the right chemistry musically and socially in the group. He is from North Carolina and has traveled extensively in his quest to keep food on the table and a roof over his head. 

On bass guitar is Jay "I Didn't Do It" Jordan. Jay is a diesel mechanic and also owns his own dump truck. He has a 6 string bass that he is all over. He adds a definite rumble and rhythm to the sound. 

On the drums is Brian Garner, and no one is real sure where he came from. He is quiet and doesn't talk about his personal life too much. He lives in Western Charles County now, and plays drums well. That's about all Doc knows about him. 

Rick "Lump" Tolley plays the bones and the blues harp. Rick is a longtime resident of Western Charles County, and is the brains of the group, according to Doc - well, Doc says that Rick and Marilyn both have been blessed with more brains then he has, which he allows isn't much anyway. 

Marilyn has moved to Eastern Shore, MD, and still comes to play with the band as often as possible. Doc said he was afraid she was going to split up the act when she moved there, since it's a two and a half hour drive, but she still makes it to all the main events. He's real proud of her, and how she has grown up and launched off on her own. But he misses her. 

I've been taking a lot of notes this Summer when talking with them, hundreds of pictures and a few good vids of them when they have played this Summer. I've gotten to record several hours of talks as well with them, and am looking forward to updating the blog, and catching up on the changes that have taken place over the last two years since we have been together. 

I'm guessing that the first several posts will be just trying to update what has happened in Doc and Marilyn's lives, and in the lives of their friends. That will keep me quite busy for a while. I just hope I can juggle my new intense schedule and work and class and also be able to keep the blog updated over the next few months. We shall see what we shall see.

Tondeleo: One factor in the sound of many of the deeply rural musicians in America is that they are not in areas where they can get a clean radio signal, internet access is spotty at best, and they just don’t listen to new music.

For Doc and his friends and neighbors, hi speed internet is not even available. The more affluent ones have dial up, which means that YouTube and other media are basically non accessible.

What this means is that the musicians and singers who live in these outlying areas are playing only the songs they remember from their childhoods or ones they learned by hearing other musicians play them live. It keeps them from even knowing how the original recordings sounded.

Another factor is that they could not take real music lessons, so they just picked up the instruments and figured out how to play. Their instruments tend to be old and cheap, or home made. While the musicians from the middle class have nice instruments and equipment, the rural ones have the cheapest and the most improvised of equipment, and it gives them a unique sound. That is again, a disadvantage on one hand, and an advantage on the other.

Doc: Yeah, Tondy, you’re right about that. We cain’t generally pick up the radio out here. And when we do, we ain’t like what they’s playin.’ 

We don’t sound like any other bands and don’t play what any of ‘em is playin’ most of the time. That’s good for them and also good for us.

Then, we got cheap equipment and home made equipment which is more what the original players and singer used. What we play is poor people music, which is what all the originals was: poor.

We mostly play what we grew up with. Music we heard our daddies and mama’s playin’ and singin’. It’s old songs, but good ones, and for us they have all the memories of when mama and daddy was young. We like that music better.

And, no, we ain’t able to go into town to take music lessons for a half day’s wages for a half hour lesson. That is for office boys and their spoilt teenage kids. It takes us 45 minutes to just get to La Plata. That’s a lot of gas. Then a half hour lesson and then 45 minutes back. Plus they want to stand around and talk a little bit, which is ok, but it adds to the time away. 

And then they want you to learn how to read charts and notes while you’re playin’! We aint up to that! It is all I can do to play that dang thing, let alone be lookin’ a a book while doin’ it, and then tryin’ to sing. That ain’t happenin’.

We just stick to what we know. But that ain’t a bad thing. When we go out and play and there is other bands, we ain’t doin’ the songs that they do, so that makes them like us more.
A lot of places get us to play for that reason. Ain’t too many people playin’ and singin’ what we do. We ain’t do NOTHIN’ newer than maybe 1958. And we ain’t doin’ any of the rock and roll hits from back then. 

A lot of people like what we play, but can’t find nobody to play it. Another thing is we ain’t human jukeboxes. We ain’t heard the original records probally in 20 years, and Marilyn ain’t never heard ‘em. So we ain’t hittin’ anything like a note for note copy of the original. Some people like what they call our arrangements. We ain’t got arrangements – that’s just how we remember them, and sometimes we get it wrong.

We all are church folks – and we go to churches where the people really get into it. We jump around in church, Tondy! You been there. Well, when we do it on stage, people think it is good showmanship, but it is just how we do. 

Playin’ out on the streets is somethin’ a lot of musicians ain’t done, and that gives us a different kind of edge. SO I guess bein’ poor can help you if you’re into playin’ music.

But it all works out, and it makes us sound like we got an original sound, and we ain’t copyin’ nobody. Hey, even if we did, we couldn’t sound like nobody else! It’s hard enough for us to sound like us! 

Tondeleo: One Saturday in September after playing at a small festival in Virginia, Doc and Marilyn and the band invited about fifty or so friends over for deer steaks and corn on the cob and baked potatoes and whatever else people could bring. None of them had eaten all day, other than a couple of hot dogs at the festival, so they were starved.

Doc, Thurman, Welch and Big Dave had the grills going and were handing out one deer steak after another. I couldn’t imagine how they were cooking them so quickly. Then, when I actually got to eat one, I was stupefied! 

It was the most tender, buttery steak I have ever eaten. And that says a lot because I eat in a lot of fine restaurants and attend some very classy events.

They served food for more than fifty people in a matter of less than a half hour. It was catered as efficiently as any event I have ever been to.

There were beer coolers all around the grills. That’s where the meat was kept prior to being thrown on the grill. But the corn on the cob and baked potatoes were just pulled out of the coolers and put on the polystyrene plates. And, they were excellent. So, I had to ask Doc what their secret was. This food was ALL excellent!

Doc: Ain’t no secret to it, Tondy. It’s just “cooler cookin’.”

Tondy: Cooler cooking? How does that work? I have never heard of it!

Doc: Well, everybody down here knows about it. Ain’t nothing to it.

Here’s how it works. You take your steaks and rub your seasoning on ‘em. We use mostly black pepper, woostershear sauce, and maybe some salt. Not much. Then we put each one in a ziploc sandwich bag.

After that we toss ‘em in a beer cooler with water that’s about 150 degrees and let them sit in there for an hour or so. We put these in a couple hours ago, while we were getting the grills goin’. That hot water cooks the food, makin’ it as hot as the water is.

After about an hour, you take the steaks out of the bag and pat ‘em dry and throw them on the grill for about a half minute on each side, so they get seared. Just till they got the marks from the grill on ‘em. Only takes 30 seconds or so. That’s how we served all those people so quick.

Done the same thing with the corn on the cob, except you don’t need no bags with that and it only takes about 15 minutes. Pour hot water about 150 degrees in the cooler and then put the corn on the cob in. It’s done in 15 minutes.

Same way with the potatoes, too. But I leave ‘em in for more than an hour. Maybe two. I dunno. Then we set ‘em on the edge of the grill to get a little smoke flavor to ‘em.

We done it with the beans too. We put the beans in bags and then in a beer cooler with hot water. Just dish ‘em up right outta the bag. But we DO add a couple of cans of coke, chopped onions and some relish to ‘em for flavor.

Plus you ain’t need to have no ‘lectric cords all over the place. We heat the water either on the stove or over a fire, cause all it’s gotta be is about 150 degrees – not boilin’ so it’s easy. Sometimes we use a immersion heater for it.

Aint nothing to feedin’ 50 or a hundred people, Tondy. Just get the food, some zip lock bags and some coolers. And hot water and a grill. And plates and plastic spoons and forks. And something to drink.

We do the same thing at Christmas and all the holidays when you got kinfolk and friends comin’ over. DO the same things for weddin’s and family reunions. It’s the only way poor people can feed a whole lot of folks at once. I bet y’all aint do that over to England!

Tondeleo: I admitted that we don’t. Or that at least I had never heard of doing that. And, I must confess that is the easiest and simplest way  I have EVER heard for feeding large groups of people. And all of it was delicious. My steak was about an inch thick, and rare from one edge to the other – with just a bit of smoke taste. It was absolutely brilliant. I can’t wait to try this when I get back to England!

Tondeleo: This is a continuation on Doc and Big Dave talking about how they do NOT play bluegrass, and that not all rural Americans even LIKE bluegrass.

Doc: Tondy, like we been sayin’, not all mountain people plays bluegrass or even likes it as much as city people does.

Some of the places we play at when we was growin’ up and where we plays now when we go back down home, don’t allow no bluegrass, no country western and no electric guitars. Some songs ain’t got no instruments. Just sung. Some of the work songs and the sad songs is just sung straight from the heart. I do that sometimes.

This ain’t music for sellin.’ It’s gospel spirituals, work songs, coal minin’ songs and such. But up here, we play more songs what people want to hear. And we ain’t about goin’ out an’ showin’ our shame.

Big Dave: Yeah, we play what we got to play here, and we still draw the line ourselves on what we play. Old country, blues roots, Gospel and things like that. But we don’t do no new country western or bluegrass. Of course, we ain’t no GOOD at bluegrass! We don’t play it! (laughs)

Me and Doc, we like electric guitars and our friends do, because we like to be able to play loud and we like the tone that you get on a tube amp. We like a little distortion, but even that is the music we grew up playin’ with our friends and neighbors. You can play a acoustic guitar into a mike like they do at a lot of the festivals and places we play, but it just sounds like a louder acoustic guitar, which is what they want.

Doc: We like overdrive, Tondy! But we also grew up with fiddles, and I like fiddles if played right, and banjo’s and such. I like a mandolin ok. A banjo with bad tone don’t set well with me. If a banjo aint played right, it sounds like a bunch of bees stingin’ me in the ears.

But a lot of folks down home and in a lot of places ain’t got no electric, so they gotta play music without it. I take my ‘coustic guitar and dobro when I go down there, unless I know I’m goin’ where there is ‘lectric.

Marilyn: I like playin’ harp. That runs in our family for back to my great grand dad and Doc thinks my great great grand dad. I like a dulcimer, too. Doc has one that he strung with guitar strings and plays with a bottleneck slide sometimes.

Another thing what runs deep is dancin.’ My aunt does flatfoot and cloggin’ but I can’t do none of that. I can yodel, and always could, but she cain’t yodel!!! Uncle Doc can yodel, but he don’t do it too much. 

Doc: A lot of the mountain roots music and blues roots is about the same thing. Bein’ broke. Havin’ a mean boss or bad landlord what don’t understand. Bein’ sick. Bein’ cheated on. Your loved one dyin’. Some is about just bein’ sick of this earthly life and wantin’ to just go ahead and go to Heaven. All the songs is about the basic thing about bein’ human and what goes on in your heart in hard times.

A lot of the sound comes from church where it gets blended, black and white folks, singin’ the same songs, and we pick up a little bit from each other, but we don’t copy no one. Most of us, at least my people is Pentecostal, too. Pentecostal folks whether white or black usually got a heart for music and have a bunch of good musicians and singers.

Tondeleo: Isn’t any music that’s made with banjo’s and mandolins by definition, “bluegrass?”

Big Dave: No. There’s differences. Bluegrass is more modern, like for city people that maybe came from the country and were missing home, and bluegrass was a way to sell that sound. I don’t know. I like Dawg Music, which has then same instruments, but isn’t bluegrass and ain’t quite country. David Grisman does it.

Doc: Well, as I see it, mountain music, roots music is more about bein’ music to dance to, more about a steady beat. That’s what we do in everything we do, keep a good beat. Mountain music uses more open tunings, which blues roots does, too. Both uses Open G a lot.

I grew up listenin’ on the radio and on the records when Daddy  could get them, and sometimes live to the Carter Family, the Mainer's, the Stoneman's, the Delmore's and the Blue Sky Boys,the Carter Brothers and folks like them.

I spent some time with Donna Stoneman and know her to be a good Christian and nice person. Her sister Ronnie was on Hee Haw. But all them people ain’t bluegrass. Mountain music and roots, I call it. We like that ok, heck we grew up on it. But we also needed to get away from it when we got out of there and done some travellin’ and didn’t want to be hillbillies.

Big Dave. He’s right, Tondy.

Marilyn: We live in the country and we ain’t got much money, but we ain’t hillbillies.

Doc Stevens: I play guitar, but I ain't got a lot of money and we live more than a hour from Hot Licks Guitar shop over to Waldorf. About once a year I get to go up there and buy a set of strings and Marilyn picks up another harmonica or two.

I make the strings last a year or more just like everybody else out here. Metal don't really go bad. What makes strings go dead is they get dirt in them from your fingers and sweat what gets stuck in them

What we do out here is just take off the ones what's wound and we put 'em in a pot of boiling water or a old coffee can and it melts out the oil and dirt. But you gotta boil 'em for about ten minutes to get it all out.

It don't hurt the strings cause they is metal. When you're done boilin' 'em you wipe 'em down with a rag an' after they dry, put 'em back on the guitar.

That's nothing new, it's what folks out in the country been doin' for years. They sound good again 'til you get 'em filled up with oil again. The boy down the road got strings on his guitar what he been usin' for maybe five years. He just takes 'em off an' boils 'em every two or three months. But you got to be good enough on your guitar to not be breaking your strings.

[Note from Tondeleo: I just HAD to post this little rambling by Doc. It is so typical of his ignorance and also of his humor, if you can call it that. I am never sure when he is being funny or being serious. This is from a phone call the other night before he went to the Bluegrass festival and got asked to leave.]

Doc: Tondy, they's all goin' on about what they call roots music . We ain't never called it that. Mostly it’s just old songs what everybody knows how to play an sing.

You know, Tondy I thought "roots music" was what Kunta Kinty sang. They kept callin' him Toby but he wanted to be called Kunta. I wouldn't wanna be called no Kunta, or Kinty. I'd hit a man if he called me that, but he wanted to be called Kunta an' that's his right. Yeh, I'd knock a lung loose in a man what called me that.

Anyhow's, that ain't what they call roots music. What they call roots music is what I play an' my daddy an' grandaddy played an what my friends play, but they think you cain't play it if you got a guitar an' amp. Only a cuestick guitar. No amp for guitar. Just their weak little puny office boy voices.

Tondeleo: Hello, This is Tondeleo...

Doc: Look, Tondy, I still got a burr in my saddle thinkin' about bein' throwed outta that Blue Grass Vestibule over the weekend. An' I wasn't drunk or fixin to be cause I cut all that mess out when my brother died an' told me to take care of Marilyn his daughter. He told me afore he died to take good care of her and stay sober an' I mostly done it. Over the weekend I got throwed out 'cause they said if I used 'lectricity when I played my guitar then it wasn't truly country roots bluegrass American music.

Now if I live in the country, which I DO, an' I play music which I DO, an' I use a amp so you can hear my guitar over my singin' which I DO, an I am an American WHICH I AM, an the songs I sing is the ones my Daddy an my 'Grandaddy afore him sang, which they ARE, then how is that not real country roots American music?

Tondeleo: Ummm...

Doc: But that ain't all. They use 'lectricity theyself. They got CD's out an' they has radios an they is all 'lectric. They was SELLIN' CD's there, which you gotta have 'lectric or you cain't hear them.

But I ain't allowed to use 'lectric on my guitar which I have been usin' for more than 30 years an' I have played it in the mountains, in the valleys an' wherever I felt like it til this past weekend, when someone invited ME, I din't invite them, to come an' play.

Now here is what got me madder than a striped ape in a prison camp. They, the good little boys who WAS allowed to sing, was all singing through mikes, which IS 'lectric an' plug into AMPS which is 'lectric. I know a mike ain't really' lectric, but my guitar ain't really 'lectric neither. It ain't no more 'lectric than a mike is. A mike which I DON'T need cause I got a fair set of pipes on me. My guitar is what needs to be made loud an' Marilyn's harps gots to be made loud. But I don't need no mike for my voice.

They had some of them boys up there singin' into mikes an' blastin' the sound all over the place an' holdin' theys guitars in front of mkes an' that is ok, but I ain't allowed to play my guitar or use my stompbox cause it gots a mike in it too.

Tondeleo: Well, Doc, it IS their festival, and you were only invited at the last minute... and you don't even know if the bloke that invited you was authorised to... or did he just invite you to attend...

Doc: That guy what worked there who told me I couldn't play my guitar through my battery powered amp, he couldn't play nothin anyway an' he didn't have enough shoulders to hold up a guitar strap. I was gonna wup his hindparts an' rake the grass with it an' then wup him again for leavin' a greasy stain, but the way he was howlin' an' carryin' on cause I wanted to play my guitar was so pitiful I was too disgusted to wup him.

An like I said yesterday, Marilyn had commenced to cryin' an' said they would put me in jail if I got up on stage an' played anyway, which I was goin' to do. I had a Hank Williams set of songs an' some Webb Pierce and Merle Travis which is 'bout all I know, but I know 'em real good.

We rode more than two hours to be there an' then got throwed out cause don’t you know that country people don't have no 'lectricity. That's what city people thinks, an I was gonna show him some real country 'lectricity if Marilyn hadn't tugged on my arm so much an' ast me to leave an' if Oliver hadn't been there to help me get over it.

So here is where it stands. I AIN'T goin to no more Blue Grass vestibules or any country ones lessen they tells me up first I aint gonna be able to use my guitar, ceptin' my one what ain't electric an' if they try to stop me then, they is gonna have one situation on their hands, period. Bye.

Tondeleo: Bye, Doc. Have a good evening.

Tondeleo: Doc, you're calling me after midnight this had better be good. What's going over there?

Doc: OK. I got invited to play and sing at the Blue Grass Vestibule over at Leonardtown and...

Tondeleo: Vestibule? A Bluegrass VESTIBULE???

Doc: Yes - the Bluegrass Vestibule over there at Leonardtown. They brought in a bunch of singers and players from here in Maryland and some from Virginia, down in the mountains where my people come from in Scott County.

So I get my buddy Oliver to drive me an' Marilyn down there, an' I give him 50 bucks for gas. I bring my guitar an' battery powered amp and stomp box so I can play an' sing. If you gonna play outside, you gotta have a amp an' you gotta have a mike on your stompbox so they can hear it.

We pull in an' a geek what worked there told me where the stage was an' me an' Marilyn got my stuff outta Oliver's truck an made our way to the stage where them other boys was playin' an' singing. I figured we get up there an' join 'em cause that's what you do an' all take turns at the mike.

But guess what that polo shirt wearin egghead told me when I got near the stage? Now, I got Oliver to ride me two hours to play there cause they wanted real country roots music as they call it but all it is is just music. I'm carryin' my 'quipment an' this polo shirt wearin' sissy calls out , "Sir, you can't bring any ELECTRIFIED instruments up here! This is bluegrass!"

I din't pay no 'tention to him and kept walkin' towards the stage. I told him I know it's bluegrass but what them boys up there was playin' weren't no bluegrass it was jus' music an' I was gonna go up there an we're all gonna play together cause they ain't got no 'lectric guitar an' they ain't got no stompbox. Marilyn told him to open up his big baby blues cause they ain't got no harmonica players neither.

Well he started whinin' and callin' for security to haul me outta there. I tol him he didn't know nothin' and all those candy pants he had up there was probly mostly office boys an' geeks pretendin' they was "country." You ain't country if you're pasty white from working in a office an' your hands are soft like a woman's.

He started orderin me around callin' me "SIR" an' tellin me to leave before Security had me arrested. Arrested for tryin' to play music at a music vestibule. So I ast him what he would do if I hit him up side the head wi' my guitar an' I went over there an' lifted it up to swing it like a baseball bat. He took off runnin' for the security boy on a golfcart and he came over an tol' me I was gonna have to leave or he'd have me locked up.

He weren't big enough to lock me up an' I tol' him so. I said I'd pound his head til he looked like a bowl full of prunes an' then I'd get up there an' play as long as I felt like. Well. Marilyn commenced to cry and tol' me he warn't worth it. I was gonna knock him out of that little golf cart an' put a hole in one in his rear end.

After that, I din't even want to be there an' I told him I was goin' home an' he couldn't stop me if he wanted to. I picked up my guitar an' amp an' stompbox an' got back in Oliver's pickup truck an' Marilyn got in an' Oliver did a burn out throwin' dust an' grass and dirt all up in that sissy's eyes. When we left he was cryin' about getting' dirt in his precious contact lenses. I ain't goin back to no more of those vestibules an' if they calls me again, I'm gonna tell 'em [deleted by Tondeleo, as editor with a sense of propriety]. That's what I'm gonna tell 'em an' then ask the Lord to forgive me, but not them.

Tondeleo: Doc, you know I put this on the Internet so you better be careful about some of the things you say...

Doc: Ok, I ain't sayin' nothin' about the people what runs that vestibule or none of the people what got to play an' sing even tho they used mikes and amps an' my guitar weren't allowed to be plugged in or my stompbox. They is all good fine Americans an' love the Lord. .. and I forgive them. Goodbye Tondy.

Tondeleo: Goodnight, Doc.