What with popular culture, social promotion, and computerized spell checkers laying waste to the quality of mass media, one might be forgiven for wanting books to be the last line of defense against the total corruption of the English language. Some books fulfill that desire. Butch Robins' musical autobiography, What I Know 'Bout What I Know, does not.
It is index-free, chock-full of misspellings, orphaned clauses, arcane editing, meandering ideas, home language, and obscene language. But these are the only indulgences that Robins, who refers to himself as "Unkle Butchie," allows himself.
A Bluegrass Book That's Both Joyous and Painful
At first glance, Robins' book seems depressingly typical of the genre - family dysfunction, prodigious talent, epic struggles with a tyrannical boss, hard partying, famous friends, emotional pain, death of a loved one, chemical dependency, mental illness, professional exile, rehab, redemption.
On closer examination, What I Know 'Bout What I Know reveals itself to be anything but typical. Robins never descends into self-pity, and never blames others for his mistakes. He is critical of others, but views his own shortcomings with an equally unsparing eye.
His adventures are hilarious and painful by turns; a recording session, for example, is only successful if a party ensues. Fun is Unkle Butchie's true north, which makes his excursions into the heart of darkness, via his verbatim journal entries, that much more jarring.
All this takes place while Robins distinguishes himself as a banjo innovator with Charlie Moore, Wilma Lee and Stoney Cooper, The Bluegrass Band supergroup, The New Grass Revival and, most notably, the Father of Bluegrass, Bill Monroe.
His tale of time spent at Jimmy Carter's White House will have readers convulsing with laughter, and wondering why Robins doesn't link his encounters there with a later tax audit: Maybe the law of unintended consequences has made him a bit more circumspect?
A Blue Grass Boy Gets Real About Bill Monroe, Earl Scruggs, and More
By his own admission, bearing witness to pain is not exactly Robins' superpower. But bear witness he does, and his emotional discipline yields some piercing insights. His post-mortems on Bill Monroe, Earl Scruggs, and Jimmy Martin, though not without empathy, are breathtakingly blunt. Conversely, his love for musical mentors like Sonny Osborne, Don Reno, and Kenny Baker is touchingly expressed.
Insightful as he is, Butch Robins is first and foremost a musician. His descriptions of the music he makes are so exuberant that readers will want to explore the recent re-releases of his best solo work, Fragments of My Imagicnation and The Fifth Child, and his latest CD, Sketches, which features a new Robins composition, "Hambone."
As Unkle Butchie's wild ride comes to an end, he has unexpectedly endeared himself, even as he puts his new-found sobriety in doubt. For all his eccentricities, Butch Robins turns out to be a remarkable, even admirable, man who has written a remarkable book.
Sources
Robins, Butch. What I Know 'Bout What I Know Bloomington, IN: 1st Books, 2003.
Diane Amov - Bluegrass singer/songwriter and classically-trained flautist who has written on bluegrass and American roots music since 2005.
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