In late 2015, a friend I’d made at the Strathmore Ukefest formed The Woods Ukulele Club here in West Virginia, and recently she decided we were up to entertaining at senior centers, independent living facilities, and nursing homes.

Which meant that earlier today In Martinsburg, as part of our hour-long set, I led the group in the Johnny Cash classic “One Piece at a Time,” which the assembled seniors seemed to enjoy. And even though I don’t think I was always singing in quite the right key, I figured I’d share it with you.

Because enthusiasm trumps talent, right?

Unfortunately, due to the angle of the camcorder, less than half the group is visible. Next time, I’ll aim to go wide, so I can inflict all of us on you!

Has it really been three years since I last shared any of my uke strumming? How did that happen? By now, you’ve probably forgotten I even own one of those weapons of mass entertainment.

Let’s remedy that, shall we?

I’ve been taking part in a local ukulele club here in the Eastern Panhandle since late last year, and Ernie Bradley invited us to join his Grassy Ridge Band at Orr’s Farm Market earlier today for the 10th Annual North Mountain Arts Festival. He asked each of us ukers to perform a song, and I chose a silly one I fell in love with when I was 10—“May the Bird of Paradise Fly Up Your Nose” by Little Jimmy Dickens.

Having some bluegrass pickers who know what they’re doing sure does make me sound a whole lot better that I actually am!

Last Sunday, ukulele master Stuart Fuchs—aka “Stukulele”—taught the second part of a uke-a-billy workshop at the Episcopal Church of the Ascension in Gaitherburg. I’d missed part one the month before thanks to sleet and freezing rain, which would have prevented me from returning home had I ventured out, but I’d glad to say that due to Stu’s ability to convey information, I quickly caught up.

It was very important to me that I do so, because Stu followed up his workshop with an amazing concert, during which the entire class was called on stage to back him up for “Rock Around the Clock” and “Twenty Flight Rock.” And I didn’t want to let him down! (more…)

Our visit to Easter Island took place right in the middle of their summer, which runs from December to March. The weather was mostly warm and brilliantly sunny, and though there was rain at the end of our time there, we got a few rainbows out of it, which was nice. But more importantly, we were also there in the middle of the annual Tapati festival, which this year ran from February 1st through the 15th.

I wasn’t sure what to expect. I’ve attended exhibitions of local culture before, by Māori in New Zealand and by Aboriginal Australians, and while I felt lucky to have had those glimpses of culture, and though the performers may have been talented, they seemed in a “let’s do our best to entertain and educate the tourists” mode. So they seemed more rote and instructional than anything alive.

But the Tapati festival was very different. It’s something done by the locals for the locals, and the tourists who happen to be there are completely incidental to the process. The festival has been going on for nearly 50 years, since before tourism was really a thing, and would continue to do so whether we were there or not. We were just privileged witnesses, and not really the intended audience.

Each day we were there, there were morning, afternoon, and evening competitions on which teams and individuals would complete to earn points so that their chosen candidate would be crowned Queen of Tapati. Much like the Olympics, a panel of experts would judge each performance or presentation on a 10-point scale. (We never saw anyone earn anything lower than an 8.)

I did not at any time feel as if I was at a performance. It felt like a family gathering, with audience members calling out to their friends on stage, singing along to the familiar (to them) songs, and occasionally dancing the same routines as those competing, sometimes equally as precise as the competitors. It had the warmth of a high school play crossed with a small town football game, but with an even bigger heart. I was allowed to feel as if I was among friends, even though I was not. I felt amazingly connected. (more…)

It shows where my priorities are that I told you all about Saturday night’s dinner at Range before I shared anything about the rest of my weekend at Capclave. But then … you already knew that about me, didn’t you?

When I arrived at the Hilton in Gaithersburg Friday night, I quickly discovered that there was no parking available. I circled the lot multiple times, as did dozens of other cars, to no avail. This had never happened before at a Capclave. Blame Guest of Honor George R.R. Martin, who attracted a horde of new attendees. (I was told later that night that the con sold three times as many walk-in memberships as usual the first day of the con.) Thankfully, a hotel employee at the front desk allowed me to use employee parking, or else I’d be wandering the lot still.

I bumped into Michael Dirda, Howard Waldrop, and Ellen Brody in the lobby, and they invited me to join them for dinner before my 9:00 p.m. panel. I’d already eaten during my drive, but I joined them anyway for a lively conversation during which we discussed Stan Lee’s date with Patricia Highsmith, the unfilmed (and entirely fictional) seventh season of Leave it to Beaver, and more.

Then came my panel titled, “J. K. Rowling Wrote an Adult Mystery,” which wasn’t really about Rowling per se, but instead the issue of pen names, writing in multiple genres, and whether the latter required the former. You can tell where I come down on the issue by the fact I’ve used my own name on all my writing, even the two unauthorized biographies I wrote about professional wrestlers. I’m agin’ ’em.

And then I rushed back home. It may seem odd to drive 90 minutes each way in order to spend two hours at a convention, but that’s all work (I couldn’t spare using another vacation day) and finances (I try not to splurge on hotel rooms when a con is commutable) allowed. Which meant the next morning I headed back to do it all over again. (more…)

Sorry for the silence here, folks. Blame the ukulele.

For pretty much every waking moment of Saturday through Tuesday, and for most of Wednesday, I took part in UkeFest 2013 over at the Strathmore Music Center in Maryland.

There were multiple tracks of programming, so it was of course impossible for me to attend everything, but in the classes I got to, Marcy Marxer taught us how to play “Rockin’ the Uke” a la Roy Smeck, Gerald Ross showed us chorded melodies and how to “take it” during a jam, Lil’ Rev (with whom I’m posing below) shared roll strokes, triples, fans, and zig-zag strums, Stu Fuchs went through rockabilly fingering, Cathy Fink took us through the best way to practice so that we’d actually get better … and much, much more.

Now when I say that these instructors taught me all these things, that’s not to say I actually learned any of them on the spot. (So don’t go expecting miracles the next time you see me with a uke.) Because while I understood on an intellectual level everything I was shown, I didn’t necessarily have the dexterity to perform many of the complicated moves.

But that’s OK. I didn’t expect I’d always be able to keep up. But I’m not disappointed, because I know that will come, as muscle memory slowly starts to take over from my natural fumbling.

If you’d like to see more of what this year was like, head on over to Flickr to check out more UkeFest photos.

Can’t wait until UkeFest 2014!

I wasn’t able to make it to the June George Formby Society convention in Blackpool. I suspect you weren’t able to be there either. (Well, most of you, anyway.) Luckily, David Brindley was there to film the two-day event, and he’s since cut together a couple of hours of highlights.

Check out the strumming and merriment below!

George Formby Society Convention June 2013 – Part 1 from DeeBee Web Design on Vimeo.

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I drove over to Gaithersburg yesterday so I could take part in the Maryland Ukulele Jam, a gathering which started last month and, if all goes well, will continue on the third Sunday of every month.

We jammed to about a dozen songs, one of which was led by yours truly. I decided to share Malvina Reynolds’ “Little Boxes,” not just because it’s a fun song, but also because it only uses three chords, and is therefore easy to pick up even for those who’ve never heard it before.

Susan Shen Yu was kind enough to record me in front of the group. (more…)

Whenever I tell people that one of the most joyful parts of the George Formby Society convention I attended two weeks ago was the Thrash, they ask me to explain—what the heck’s a Thrash? And though I tell them it’s that part of a concert during which everyone who wants to is welcome to come up en masse to strum a bunch of songs, it’s hard to really convey the fun of it all.

Much easier to simply show you. And so …

If you scroll ahead to 40:06 on the video below, you’ll see a small part of one of the many Thrashes that took place during the weekend.

Now that you’ve experienced a Thrash, make sure you go back to the beginning and watch the video straight through. Lots of great ukulele playing there!

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I was in Blackpool last weekend for the George Formby Society convention, where I met in the flesh friends who’d previously only been virtual, saw some amazing uke players, got a tutorial in Formby-style strumming, and even had a chance to get up and bumble my way through a song in the “Up and Comers” session meant for beginners.

Plus I added a third uke to my collection, on top of the Mitchell concert you’ve seen in all my videos up until now and the Kala pocket uke which I’ve carried as far as Machu Picchu.

But to play George Formby, you need a banjolele, so I headed off to Blackpool hoping to find one I could fall in love with, that fit my budget, and that my friends at the convention would feel delivered both good sound and value. (Believe me, without their advice, I’d never have had the confidence to make a decision.) I was hoping to find a pre-war ukulele, but instead ended up with something as far from vintage as you can get—a new uke completed just a week before the con, handmade by a man named Steve Helme.

Since it was built by a person rather than a company, it doesn’t have a brand name to go with it, but my friends in Blackpool who advised me it was a good deal told me it’s basically a replica of a UB-2.

Check it out below.

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