There’s nothing quite like a sketchy mall in the heart of Illinois. In the most obscure corner of Lincoln Square Shopping Center, there lies a space unknown to most, except to those of extreme hipness (the Pizza FM crew) and those who are far wiser than we. I say this because –after fifteen minutes of being lost- when I finally found the source of the music, what I found was a circle of folks slightly older than myself strumming along to bluegrass tunes. It was like a fairy ring, but instead of fairies they were several people’s grandparents, and instead of mushrooms there were banjos, guitars, and Appalachian dulcimers. I joined fellow Pizza-person Joe at a table behind all of the action. According to Joe, he was invited to jam out with them so long as he had an instrument. While he contemplated the possibility of becoming one with the bluegrass circle, I bemoaned my lack of talent--my ultimate inability to ever play songs with these friendly faces.The group dynamics were simple. One by one they played songs proposed by each member. He or she would begin, and then everyone else would tag along, improvising with his or her instrument. By the time they finished playing "Two Dollar Bill," I had become a believer in the gospel of Bluegrass. I sensed that what was happening before me was the very essence of folk and bluegrass, of music as a whole: it was communal, pure… democratic. Thus with each new song I felt closer and closer to the soul of America. It’s funny what one learns at a desolate mall ravaged by the unforgiving spite of fate and retail chainSpeaking of learning things, I learned what it means to be a Sourdough. Aside from being the most delicious type of bread to grace mankind, Sourdough is the name given to a native of Alaska who is sour he cannot leave because he has no dough. You can hold the veracity of this tasty piece of wisdom accountable to the gentle woman with a guitar. She posited thereafter Woodie Guthrie’s magnus opus, “This Land is Your Land,” which of course called for the loudest, sweetest euphony of the night. Before leaving, I spoke to her husband. I asked him how it was that they came to know about these jam sessions, and he claimed that they have been going on longer than anyone in the group could remember. It has been a tradition for a while then, to congregate at the most lit section of the mall on Tuesday evenings at 7. I relished the idea of an underground folk scene too indie for any of us Generation Y kids. As I rode the bus home, I thought to myself that whosever grandparents they all were, the kids have a large legacy of coolness to fulfill.If you want to have your life changed, on Tuesdays head on over to Lincoln Square Shopping Center in Urbana at 7pm.
