Baby Gramps gives new meaning to ‘old, weird America’
Baby Gramps won’t tell me his age, or his birth name, or who he was before he was, as his friends call him, “Gramps.” He’ll only say that he was born in Miami, but has lived in Seattle for the last 50 years, and that his first guitar, a National steel, was given to him by his father, who played it in the 1930s. While this might normally be annoying, or feel schtick-ish, I’m actually fine with it. It suits Gramps’ persona perfectly, and makes me like him even more.
In the folk and roots music scene, the word “timeless” gets thrown around a lot. We use it to describe someone who touches in on emotions, styles and techniques that are familiar and proven, like Gillian Welch or Jeffrey Foucault.
But Gramps is timeless in a different way. With his wild and long white beard, pirate’s growl, and mountain-recluse-chic attire, he’s like a time-traveling, guitar-playing moonshiner or gold panner who’s a bit puzzled by modern culture but happy to be here nonetheless. And he brings with him a bevy of songs and styles that he (sometimes single-handedly) is keeping from going extinct.
“I have songs that go back to the 1500s that I love to play,” he says, citing “King Kong Kitchie Kitchie Ki-Me-O,” a version of “Frog Went a Courtin’,” the English folk song that first appeared in 1548. “That’s a song about the most strange wedding of Miss Mousie.”
A collector of folk songs from around the world, Gramps estimates that he has probably 30 or 40 different versions of the tune, and he’s made up his own versions as well.
“I also do ‘Turkey in the Straw,’” he says, “and that one goes way back.”
Though he won’t give away the details of his early life, Gramps’ music, his disposition, his humor, and his enthusiasm speak for themselves. He’s a heart-on-sleeve guy who cares deeply about sharing music with people, and has a great respect for the deep roots of folk music.
“In the old days, a lot of people didn’t have access to television or radio,” he says, explaining that people could develop songs without a lot of outside influence. “What they did do all the time was play music. After dinner, the whole family would play on the back porch or at backyard parties.”
Embracing a hodgepodge of these back-porch styles, including novelty jazz, ragtime, Victorian dancehall tunes, blues, folk, and more, Gramps is a master of wordplay. He loves performing for and with children, and his music is unlike anything you’ve probably heard before—a blend of weathered sea shanties, classic folk music, silly jazz numbers, and nonsensical palindromes, spoonerisms, and oxymorons. His goal is to “pursue all those dead ends” of folk music, and try to tie them together.
“They call it Baby Gramps music,” he says with a laugh.
A self-described historian and collector, Gramps estimates that he has 10,000 books and “records up into the millions.” When I ask if he ever considers moving, or retiring, he says he just doesn’t want to, and he doesn’t see how he could.
“That’s my chosen profession,” he says, “my love of music. I write all the time, and I’m collecting all the time.” Then he jokes, “I should have been a little more choosy, maybe.”
Gramps stays busy collecting, learning, rewriting, and sharing traditional songs—and his loyal fans love him for it. They recognize that, regardless of how he got here or what his origin story is, Gramps is an extraordinary artist and human—an international treasure trove of laughter, stories, and old folk-music gems he pulls from dusty books, cylinders, and boxes out into the 21st century.
“The tradition of music is really alive and it’s strong,” says Gramps. “So many people have breathed life into it. I believe you can’t do anything wrong with it.” He adds, “Like Dylan says, you can’t kill it. And he has tried.”
Baby Gramps will perform at 9 p.m. on Saturday, Nov. 21 at the Crepe Place, 1134 Soquel Ave., Santa Cruz. $15. 429-6994.
NOBODY PUTS BABY GRAMPS IN A CORNER And the Crepe Place won’t either, when he plays there on Saturday, Nov. 21.
