At Carter Stanley’s Grave
With fiddle and banjo sounds swirling up from the valley below, people in work clothes trudge up the dusty path in twos and threes to stand at Carter Stanley's grave. The tiny cemetery that holds his remains rests on the very pencil point of a high
The people have come here primarily for the music and camaraderie of the bluegrass festival going full tilt down the hill. But visiting this grave is a part of the festival, too. For no other music dwells so unflinchingly on death as bluegrass. And no one has sung of this grim finality more hauntingly than Carter Stanley and his younger brother, Ralph. Their repertoire abounds with songs of children dying ("Little Bessie," "No School Bus in Heaven"), parents dying ("White Dove," "The Fields Have Turned Brown") and maidens being murdered ("Pretty Polly," "Poor Ellen Smith.") On the soundtrack of the forthcoming Coen Brothers movie, O Brother, Where Art Thou, the song that has attracted the most attention is Ralph Stanley's impassioned dialogue between a victim and the Reaper, "Oh, Death."
By the time of Carter Stanley's own passing in 1966 -- when he was just 41 -- his singing and songwriting had already earned him a place beside bluegrass deities Bill Monroe, Lester Flatt and Earl Scruggs.
His first show of the day over with, Ralph Stanley drives up to the cemetery with a two-man camera crew that is helping shoot a documentary about the O Brother soundtrack. They walk through the opened gate in the high chain link fence. Over the gate arches a sign that says "Hills of Home Cemetery" and underneath it "Let Me Rest on a
If you stand at the grave long enough, you can hear
While
As the light fades, the sightseers move back down the hill and amble toward the festival stage where the Larkin Family is performing its high-energy, Dollywood brand of bluegrass.
Always a musical monument to home and family, this year's Memorial Bluegrass Festival sets a new standard for togetherness. On his show earlier in the afternoon,
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