
{"id":1809,"date":"2018-02-06T14:03:07","date_gmt":"2018-02-06T14:03:07","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.berea.edu\/appalachian-center\/?p=1809"},"modified":"2019-02-06T13:39:32","modified_gmt":"2019-02-06T18:39:32","slug":"thoughts-kin-sin-students-reflection-appalachian-ballad-concert","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/legacy.berea.edu\/appalachian-center\/2018\/02\/06\/thoughts-kin-sin-students-reflection-appalachian-ballad-concert\/","title":{"rendered":"Thoughts on Kin and Sin: Reflection on the Appalachian Ballad Concert"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>Dusk had\u00a0settled into night as the blistering wind had picked up,\u00a0a storm loomed heavily\u00a0over\u00a0Berea. The fallen autumn leaves and shivering guests breezed in through the doors of Phelps Stokes, their cheeks blood red and their eyes wild with curiosity.\u00a0It was no secret that the \u201cAppalachian Ballad Concert\u201d translated to murder ballads and other sinful subject matters.\u00a0They had come\u00a0here\u00a0knowing what they had gotten themselves into, to be\u00a0gathered to hear songs that want to make you hold your kin a little bit closer, get right with your maker,\u00a0and live\u00a0more\u00a0righteously.<\/p>\n<p>I was homesick. As I watched the\u00a0chapel fill with lovers, families, and friends, their nervous laughing faces illuminated by the hot spotlight, I found a temporary home.\u00a0I should have invited them but the hustle and bustle of the semester had gotten the best of me. I decided to settle for those who had gathered with us tonight in body and in spirit.\u00a0\u00a0I looked for my family in them; my father\u2019s tired blue eyes,\u00a0mamaw\u2019s\u00a0curly\u00a0black hair, and mother\u2019s round face. I\u00a0listened closely to hear them amongst the chorus of voices,\u00a0to hear that Eastern Kentucky accent\u00a0that is so scarce around these parts. I worried they wouldn\u2019t speak to me, Lord knows I haven\u2019t called in a while. I wouldn\u2019t blame them if they didn\u2019t.<\/p>\n<p><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-1810 alignleft\" src=\"https:\/\/legacy.berea.edu\/appalachian-center\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/20\/2018\/02\/Bluegrass-2017-200x300.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"200\" height=\"300\" srcset=\"https:\/\/legacy.berea.edu\/appalachian-center\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/20\/2018\/02\/Bluegrass-2017-200x300.jpg 200w, https:\/\/legacy.berea.edu\/appalachian-center\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/20\/2018\/02\/Bluegrass-2017-768x1152.jpg 768w, https:\/\/legacy.berea.edu\/appalachian-center\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/20\/2018\/02\/Bluegrass-2017-683x1024.jpg 683w, https:\/\/legacy.berea.edu\/appalachian-center\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/20\/2018\/02\/Bluegrass-2017.jpg 1365w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 200px) 100vw, 200px\" \/>Making light fun of the night, my sorrows were cast aside with the Berea College Bluegrass Ensemble. Each performer brought their own special energy to the stage, combined they were a powerhouse of folk and bluegrass. They gathered around the front microphone much like the classic scene from\u00a0<i>O Brother, Where Art Thou<\/i>. I shifted in my seat with excitement as the young girl with a slick guitar braced herself and let out a resounding belt, \u201cMy girl, my girl, don\u2019t lie to me\u201d. Immediately, I was taken back to being seventeen years old, standing in front of my first car. My father handed me the CD he had in his first car,\u00a0<i>Nirvana Unplugged<\/i>. Number fourteen, the last song on the album was a cover of\u00a0<i>Where Did You Sleep Last Night<\/i>. I shivered with memories, all the times I took the long way home to prolong seeing my family, rasping, singing, and weeping with Cobain.\u00a0\u00a0<img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-1811 alignright\" src=\"https:\/\/legacy.berea.edu\/appalachian-center\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/20\/2018\/02\/Hannah-From-200x300.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"200\" height=\"300\" srcset=\"https:\/\/legacy.berea.edu\/appalachian-center\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/20\/2018\/02\/Hannah-From-200x300.jpg 200w, https:\/\/legacy.berea.edu\/appalachian-center\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/20\/2018\/02\/Hannah-From-768x1152.jpg 768w, https:\/\/legacy.berea.edu\/appalachian-center\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/20\/2018\/02\/Hannah-From-683x1024.jpg 683w, https:\/\/legacy.berea.edu\/appalachian-center\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/20\/2018\/02\/Hannah-From.jpg 1365w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 200px) 100vw, 200px\" \/><\/p>\n<p>Gracing the stage with a pure heart and dainty presence,\u00a0Hannah From\u00a0was one of our youngest performers of the night.\u00a0Hannah had me absolutely fooled;\u00a0she had hidden inside her talent that takes decades to form.\u00a0After each ballad, Hannah would grin ear to ear because she\u00a0seemed to\u00a0know what a surprise she was to the audience. My heart was so overwhelmed knowing that these musical traditions were being carried on\u00a0for generations to come. My stomach sank as I remembered being sixteen years old and receiving my first instrument from my late Papaw Napper. After finding an old banjo at a yard sale when I was an infant, he held on to it for years even though he didn\u2019t play. When my hands got big enough,\u00a0he gave\u00a0me\u00a0that banjo. He died before I ever learned a chord. Watching Hannah inspired me to learn a few ditties and\u00a0play for all the Nappers in the family cemetery<\/p>\n<p><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-1812 alignleft\" src=\"https:\/\/legacy.berea.edu\/appalachian-center\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/20\/2018\/02\/Sarah-Wood-300x200.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"200\" srcset=\"https:\/\/legacy.berea.edu\/appalachian-center\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/20\/2018\/02\/Sarah-Wood-300x200.jpg 300w, https:\/\/legacy.berea.edu\/appalachian-center\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/20\/2018\/02\/Sarah-Wood-768x512.jpg 768w, https:\/\/legacy.berea.edu\/appalachian-center\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/20\/2018\/02\/Sarah-Wood-1024x683.jpg 1024w, https:\/\/legacy.berea.edu\/appalachian-center\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/20\/2018\/02\/Sarah-Wood-221x147.jpg 221w, https:\/\/legacy.berea.edu\/appalachian-center\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/20\/2018\/02\/Sarah-Wood.jpg 2048w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 300px) 100vw, 300px\" \/>Next, the devil in\u00a0a\u00a0blue dress had the audience flirting with death\u00a0and dancing with demons. Banjo player Sarah Wood grasped guests under her spell\u00a0with the flicks of her picking fingers and\u00a0mesmerizing\u00a0voice.\u00a0It takes real talent to take a song that is as cold as death and turn it into an experience that is hotter than new love.\u00a0The performance took a sharp turn from jovial ballads to songs of woe.\u00a0She\u00a0tugged on my heart strings as she performed Ralph Stanley\u2019s\u00a0<i>O Death<\/i><i>\u00a0<\/i>a Capella.\u00a0As her voice haunted the corridors of Phelps Stokes, the wind howled and beat on the windows to remind us of the looming storm\u00a0outside.\u00a0The morbid lyrics sounded like the chant of a s\u00e9ance calling upon our forgotten dead, I could feel them with us.<\/p>\n<p>Last but not least, Chris\u00a0Brashear and Jim Watson took the stage as a violin and guitar duo. The spotlight laid<img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-1813 alignright\" src=\"https:\/\/legacy.berea.edu\/appalachian-center\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/20\/2018\/02\/Chris-B-CTM-300x200.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"200\" srcset=\"https:\/\/legacy.berea.edu\/appalachian-center\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/20\/2018\/02\/Chris-B-CTM-300x200.jpg 300w, https:\/\/legacy.berea.edu\/appalachian-center\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/20\/2018\/02\/Chris-B-CTM-768x512.jpg 768w, https:\/\/legacy.berea.edu\/appalachian-center\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/20\/2018\/02\/Chris-B-CTM-1024x683.jpg 1024w, https:\/\/legacy.berea.edu\/appalachian-center\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/20\/2018\/02\/Chris-B-CTM-221x147.jpg 221w, https:\/\/legacy.berea.edu\/appalachian-center\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/20\/2018\/02\/Chris-B-CTM.jpg 2048w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 300px) 100vw, 300px\" \/> crassly over\u00a0Chris\u2019\u00a0furrowed brow and broad, slumped shoulders. He makes the type of music that makes you want to share a Marlboro with the man. His lyrics made\u00a0you face the long road you\u2019re on and where you\u2019ve been\u00a0to make sure you\u2019ve not forgotten. Just as I had grasped hold of myself, Brashear performed\u00a0<i>Prodigal Son<\/i>. I was immersed\u00a0in\u00a0sorrow,\u00a0it was during this\u00a0song\u00a0that\u00a0I felt the\u00a0voices\u00a0of my family was speaking to me. In my youth I had taken so much for granted, rejecting many pearls of wisdom but now I was listening. For the first time in a long time, I was listening.<\/p>\n<p>Time ceased to exist as Chris and Jim poured themselves out to the crowd.\u00a0An upheaval of applause seemed to raise\u00a0the lights as the show was over.\u00a0Brashear stepped back into the shadows and exited the stage.\u00a0The crowd rose with cheers, I was still locked in my seat\u00a0as if I had been in a different realm of existence momentarily.\u00a0The somber lyrics still rang loud in my mind, echoing to the depths of\u00a0my aching soul, \u201cI believe I\u2019ll go back home, acknowledge I done wrong.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Article Written by Britney Napier<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Dusk had\u00a0settled into night as the blistering wind had picked up,\u00a0a storm loomed heavily\u00a0over\u00a0Berea. The fallen autumn leaves and shivering guests breezed in through the doors of Phelps Stokes, their cheeks blood red and their eyes wild with curiosity.\u00a0It was no secret that the \u201cAppalachian Ballad Concert\u201d translated to murder ballads and other sinful subject [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":113,"featured_media":1813,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[16],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1809","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-gravy-blog"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO plugin v27.5 - https:\/\/yoast.com\/product\/yoast-seo-wordpress\/ -->\n<title>Thoughts on Kin and Sin: Reflection on the Appalachian Ballad Concert<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"noindex, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Thoughts on Kin and Sin: Reflection on the Appalachian Ballad Concert\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"Dusk had\u00a0settled into night as the blistering wind had picked up,\u00a0a storm loomed heavily\u00a0over\u00a0Berea. 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