Appalachian culture is often thought of as confined and only pertinent to its region. However, when you look critically at the culture it turns out to be more eclectic and widespread than you might assume. One way I learned about the spread of Appalachian culture started with leaving West Virginia for Prague, Czech Republic.
Although I’m serving as Augusta’s AmeriCorps this year, my background is in Central European history. I didn’t anticipate utilizing my Czech language and history knowledge while serving with Augusta. However, my time here has illuminated connections between Czechs and Appalachians that I hadn’t previously made.
When I started with Augusta, I began learning as much as I could about old-time and bluegrass music, eventually stumbling upon Czech bluegrass. I was skeptical of Czech bluegrass’s authenticity when I first read about it. I’ve always thought of bluegrass as being strongly connected to the Appalachian region because of its themes and place of origin. I questioned how Czechs could also claim ownership over bluegrass. I also started to reflect on my memories in a new way. When I studied in Prague, I listened to Czech bands play bluegrass in pubs and wrote it off as Czech folk music, not even considering it could be connected to the music of my home region. I remember getting emotional in a café when John Denver’s “Country Roads” began playing. I was too caught up in this reminder of home to critically think about how “Country Roads” ended up on the radio in Prague.
Bluegrass first landed in Czechoslovakia during World War II with the US military. Their radio channels brought country and bluegrass to Czechoslovakia, which endured throughout the communist era. The spread of bluegrass to Czechoslovakia is a testament to the strength of American culture during the mid-20th century. However, the audience for bluegrass was also cultivated by the “tramping” movement (comparable to the back to the land movement in America) of the early 20th century. The tramping movement involved camping and hiking, listening to tramping music, and exploring woodcrafts. Today, it’s still common for Czechs to escape to cabins in the country for vacations and holidays. Although bluegrass is played in urban pubs now, the tramping movement is important context for understanding why bluegrass found an audience in Czech society.
While the presence of bluegrass reveals the power of American culture, it wasn’t a one-way exchange. Czechoslovaks also had a hand in shaping the sound of bluegrass in America. The dobro, a resonator guitar, was pioneered by Slovak immigrants in the US. In the 1920s, the Dobyera brothers invented the “dobro”, which is a contraction of the brothers’ name and means “good” in Slovak and Czech. As resonator guitars grew in popularity, Americans started saying “dobro” to describe any resonator guitar regardless of brand, making the Slavic word part of the American music vernacular.
While Czech bluegrass parallels American bluegrass motifs on the surface, it was also entrenched in and influenced by Czech history and culture. American and Czech bluegrass share themes like home, community, economic strife; however, those shared feelings and experiences are inspired by different national and cultural histories. Czech bluegrass is also known as “Czechgrass” because as scholar Lee Bidgood put it, Czech bluegrass has “in-betweenness.” Czechs had created a style of bluegrass that grew from American roots but was distinct with Czech lyrics, sounds, and Czech experiences. Musicians perform and pull from both Czech heritage and American styles creating music that is both inspired by and distinct from American bluegrass.
While bluegrass is more than the stories it tells, the global resonance of its themes reveals a point of connection. Shared experiences between communities on different continents show the value of bluegrass music and its ability to bring people together. Researching this topic showed me the importance of questioning your own assumptions. Despite being familiar with Czech and Appalachian culture, my preconceived notions kept me from recognizing meaningful connections. Researching how bluegrass functions in other cultures, under different types of government, and in different places forced me to redefine my understanding of bluegrass and break away from stereotypical assumptions about Appalachia and its music.
I was in Prague in 1999 during the 10th anniversary of the Velvet Revolution. It was a welcome surprise to hear the sounds of bluegrass as I walked the streets one chilly night in November. The city had seemed so exotic to me, a Virginian, and heariing the familiar musical style made me feel very close indeed to the Czech people and their celebration of freedom.