PLAIN FOLK

by Donna Robinson
Agnostic Mountain Gospel Choir

Sometimes it's a good thing not to know too much. A case in point is Calgary's Agnostic Mountain Gospel Choir. You shouldn't question. Just believe. I became a believer when I heard them at the Lethbridge Folk Club on September 10.

Although I like to research before I write, I'm not sure if anything short of time travel would give me the goods on the AMGC. I'd have to go to Nova Scotia before the Acadians left. Or to the bayou when the shrimp boats returned. Or to listen outside the tent at a 1930's Southern Baptist revival meeting.

But I am afraid to break the spell. And that's what their music is all about - being spell-bound, in a trance, mesmerized by their beat. Is it dangerous? Yes! This is exactly what my dad was talking about when he extolled the evils of rock 'n roll. But it wasn't Elvis with his hip gyrations. It wasn't even rock 'n roll. It was the kind of voodoo that gets laid on you at the hands of the Agnostics. It affects the young and the old. No one is safe.

It starts with the simple, strong beat. It is slow, sensuous, overwhelming. It sets you up for Judd Palmer's voice as he rips into the lyrics and you can remember hearing that voice in old re-runs of fire-and-brimstone preachers from the early days of radio. Or was it a Tuvan throat singer? Or a deep-south hog-caller?

The songs are bitterly short and end without fanfare, ranging from slow, bluesy numbers to all-out frantic, foot-stomping frenzy. Don't expect a nice, 2-part harmony. These vocals are raw, oddly-matched, unashamed. Jay Woolley drums like no one I've ever seen - not a rock drummer, not a jazz drummer, but a unique, unpredictable style that makes you think he sold his soul to the devil like someone else we know. He is the backbone of the band, the equivalent of the drummer for the chain gangs as they sang their work songs. Vlad Sobolewski plays the stand-up bass with energy and assurance and provides important texture. Besides lead vocal, Judd plays a fine banjo and guitar but doesn't bring out his harmonica until late in the last set and it is like we were all waiting for it. There is a collective sigh in the room as he wails on it, producing sounds from another era. Bob Keelaghan, talented younger brother of James Keelaghan, sang and played with such passion that he broke not one, but two, guitar strings!

Its all over too soon. You feel like you have peeked under the tent flap at the height of the frenzy. You know what the boys from Deliverance do on a Saturday night. You understand why whirling dervishes whirl. And maybe you might start to believe that my dad was right. But your very next thought is "I wonder when the next meeting, er, concert, is going to be?"