For this issue of Notes From the Urban Homestead, I’m going to change format a bit and focus on one article. But don’t worry, we are at that peaceful time before the first frost in the mid Atlantic, so just keep harvesting and we’ll deal with closing down the farm later.

For now, I would like to write about one of the most amazing live music performances I’ve ever seen. Now, I say this not because I write for this blog, or because I’m friends with the band. In all honesty, Hoots and Hellmouth’s performance Friday night at Charlestown CSA in Phoenixville, PA was not a musical masterpiece. Their was no thirty minute Dead-like jam on “This Hand Is A Mighty Hand”, Sean Hoots didn’t use “What Good are Plowshares If We Use Them Like Swords?” to propose a rock political manifesto, heck, Bob Beach wasn’t even making a cameo.  Don’t get me wrong, the music instrumentation was dead on and the energy was rattling the barn they played in, but this energy came more from the atmosphere than any vibes going on between their stringed instruments.

I knew straightaway the gig was going to be special when we arrived at the farm to the greetings of Liz Anderson and a fresh made pizza roasting in the cobb oven on the side of the property. The energy kept building as the band set up and CSA members started filing into the parking lot down the mountain road leading from town.  The rain held off and a bountiful spread of food with labels such as “Pesto with garden grown Basil” and “Apple Pie with apples from Northstar Orchards” filled the table in the room beneath the barn.

And the people there could feel it too. As I walked around the outdoor tables and massive bonfire getting to know the CSA members and fans of the band, there was much talk about how great it was to be seeing live music at a farm rather than in a club. For many of the CSA members, they were drawn back by the performance the band had given in the same barn two years before. For local farming apprentices and music fans in the area, it was just a natural fit.

I remember meeting a mother and son, both friends of the farmers Bill and Liz Anderson and both fans of Hoots and Hellmouth. While talking with them, I realized the power of the idea behind the band’s decision to do a farm tour. Aside from the natural age barrier of clubs, there is that cultural barrier of being seen in such a public space with your mother. But nowhere in our conversation could I sense any uneasiness or embarrassment on either of their behalves. They were sharing this experience as a community. Some years ago, while delivering the key-note speech at a a farm fundraiser dinner I co-hosted for a CSA I worked on in Louisiana, I explained that some people feel a community is built around the church, some the courthouse, some the school. But in my opinion, community is built around the dinner table.

And after getting a nice meal in us of mostly locally grown food, the crowd was ready for a performance best described in the following scene: while the band broke into their third song, which I believe was “You and All of Us,” the dancing had reached full swing. As I hopped and stomped to the music, I looked up to see what Andrew was doing on the guitar, but instead I focused on the little red haired girl, standing on a hay bale in front of him, a big smile on her face, ready to jump into her father’s arms. I then looked up in the rafters and saw young boys hanging on the ladders that led to the top of the barn, bobbing their heads to the beat of John on the upright bass. In front of Rob, I saw a little kid emulating his leg kick as he stomped on his board.

It was in this moment that I finally understood just how powerful and progressive the idea was of taking Hoots and Hellmouth’s music out of the club and onto the farm. Now, I’m not saying that the conundrums of the local food system were solved that evening, or that organic farming finally achieved true sustainability, but I will say that during that night, one group of people were brought even closer together as a community, and as I’ve learned on the homestead, both rural and urban, that is the greatest chance we have for truly progressing as one sustainable, just and peaceful human world.

Until next time, this is the note from the urban homestead.