Coal Miners Forgiven

A Supreme Court Justice once said something like, "I can't define pornography, but I know it when I see it." I have the proverbial "tin ear" for music. I can't define good music, but I know it when I hear it."

Last Saturday, I was strolling past Festplatz at Musik (with a k) fest. Festplatz is the home of polka there. Normally, I gawk inside the tent and walk on by. If you want to clear a dance floor of 60s-era music fans like me, play a few bars of "Roll Out the Barrel" and we will race toward the exits.

But this was no ordinary polka band playing. It was Grammy Award-winning Jimmy Sturr and his Orchestra. Jimmy and the boys belted out "Pennsylvania Polka" and it was good. I mean, really good. I stopped and listened. Pretty much everyone else who wandered past also stopped. It got to the point where Security had to clear crowds from the aisleways.

Jimmy and the boys do polka with a down-home country twang. It shouldn't work, but ti does. If there are musical genres that I've been overexposed to and therefore despise, polka and country are 1 and 1A. Growing up in Scranton, the radio airwaves were clogged with Stanky & the Coal Miners, Stosh & Yosh, the Connecticut Twins, and Buck Owens & His Buckaroos. Only on rare crystal clear nights could my trusty transistor radio pick up Chuck Berry or Little Richard on the Philly or New York stations. I resented Stanky, Stosh, and Buck for that.

All is forgiven, Coal Miners, Connecticut Twins, and Buckaroos. Jimmy Sturr has caused me to see the light. Polka and country are, in fact, good music. I know it because I heard it.