My favorite, probably-not-true, Civil War story is about a young private from a PA regiment, up on Culp’s Hill after the first day of the Battle of Gettysburg. He’s digging and moving rocks in the dark, and the Confederates are camped at the bottom of the hill, not a stone’s throw away. While he’s digging — after six hours of marching and then getting shot at relentlessly the day before — he hears a reedy, small voice below him start singing a song. He recognizes it — it’s called “Lorena,” a song his sister used to sing while she mended clothes back home. After a couple of minutes, he stops digging, takes out his flute, and starts playing along with the singer.
Soon, the regimental band starts collecting their instruments and plays. Then, their counterparts down in the rebel camp do the same, and there are now a dozen people on both sides playing “Lorena.” When the song is over, there are a few moments of quiet, then he picks up his shovel, and the rest of the Civil War resumes. It’s too good to be true, of course. But the sheer humanity and the hope of it just raise your belief that we’re all the same and everything else is just situational. Comes and goes.
Neil and Shannon make me feel that way.
If you don’t know, they’re local troubadours who sometimes have a bass player with them, giving them the logically challenging name of the “Neil and Shannon Trio.” They play classic rock leaning toward folk and country, and they play so well together that Shannon, a lefty, has a guitar that even fits neatly next to Neil’s when they sit together.
When Gary Newton, the bassist, is with them, he sits a little behind and to the side, filling out their sound and laying down the tempo in the spirit of the great Gettysburg bassists (we have better bass playing in this town than we deserve, to be sure). In some of their more regular gigs, like last Friday upstairs at the Garryowen, Gary’s not with them — possibly due to scheduling, but it could just be because the space is too small for the three of them.
I’m a casual Stones fan (not some crazy fan… I mean, it’s not as if I have a Stones mouth tattooed on my arm or anything), and since they found that out, they fit in a tune for me whenever they see me — something they do for a lot of their regulars… and they have a lot of regulars.
The first time I heard them do “Wild Horses,” I was amazed at the effortless mastery Neil shows with the embellishments and theruns he puts into a well-known song, like he’s telling a story. In all the times I have seen them, he’s managed to amaze me every time. And Shannon can sing like an angel — or like an old-time blues queen—on demand.
I had to comment that I hardly recognized “Wild Horses” when the singer actually stays on key through the whole song. I love Mick, but he takes the key of a song more as a suggestion.
I catch Neil and Shannon whenever I can, but I especially look forward to their last-Friday-of-the-month set at the Garry Owen. It’s a highlight — when I’m having a crappy month — to go up there, get a pint, and hear them roll through their set. They are a local treasure, and who knows, if I keep trying, I might even get them to put a Harry Chapin tune in their set.
Look, I know the story of the kid on Culp’s Hill is probably crap. Most likely, if some kid started singing that close to the line, the most likely outcome would be a sharpshooter picking him off. But I tell the story whenever I can, and will keep doing it. It’s a close-your-eyes, uncomplicated pleasure… and so is the Neil and Shannon Trio.
Photo by Jim Bargas
Tom Dudra is a local music nerd and civil war bore. He writes about local music, as well as essays and fiction about the civil war era. He is often found on the battlefield with Grant, his vicious basset war hound.