Pictured: Two Students learning from Instructor Melody Walker, Photo Credit: Hylwa Media
Christopher McCracken for Bluegrass Pride - 23 June 2026
When I was a student at Oregon State University I spent a year and a half volunteering on the student farm. Every Sunday morning, a delight of a man named James Cassidy would arrive in a van with the wheel on the wrong side. He would hop out, delegate, and we’d all get into the fields. All were welcome, regardless of experience, interest, or ability. If you arrived, he’d put you to work.
I loved the farm because it brought on a familiar exhaustion. You pick up a broadfork, sink it into the bed, and tear out the weeds. Then you move six inches backwards and repeat. You do this until the soil is ready to be sown. Your reward is dirt-stained double fronts and a sense of having accomplished something real. This is signified by your exhaustion.
So it was for my second day at Camp Bluegrass Pride.
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The camp is organized into a series of three classes throughout the day followed by one-off workshops held in the afternoons. The idea is that, by staying in a small cohort throughout the week, our classes can take a deep dive into the chosen topic, bringing everyone along and focusing on each camper’s needs and interests.
I’ve chosen to split my time between banjo and vocals; as such, my morning began in Grace van’t Hof’s class on Upping Your Jamming Game.
I was one of just four students in Grace’s class, one of whom was the delightful Ida Hoe, our drag queen in residence. As it was the first day, we spent most of the discussion on how jams work, the physical tools needed to survive them — the obvious capo and tuner, and the less obvious bug spray, string rag and hoodie — and the social cues buried in the bluegrass language.
A quick break followed before moving into Keith Billik’s class on Pleading the 5th [String]; by which we mean using the banjo’s drone string in contexts beyond a simple open note. The luthiers didn’t give you all those frets for nothing, and Keith walked us through some different licks and approaches to make use of them.
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Isaac had promised us some instructor chaos during camp orientation and it was delivered in the band scramble. Six instructors were thrown on stage, having been under strict instruction to prepare absolutely nothing. Highlights included Kaden leading “Paul and Silas” in the style of Flatt and Scruggs and Melody singing her fantastic Molly Tuttle co-write “Crooked Tree”.
Throughout, we all got a real-time lesson on the eye contact, shuffling, and lack of self-preservation required to thrive in a no-prep set. It was a blast.
After that, I made my way to Lucy’s Books, where I joined in McKain’s harmony singing class. In another first-day experience, we spent most of our time establishing a common language of notes, chords, and harmony structures, and left with their fervent promise that the rest of the week would be filled with singing. I love the wonky theory side, so I certainly wasn’t complaining about a heady class; but I’m also excited to find my voice throughout the rest of the week.
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The rest of my night was spent at Xanadu, our home away from home for Camp Bluegrass Pride. The main event was the faculty concert, where — in contrast to the intentionally chaotic band scramble — six instructors got to present a curated sample of their own musical interests. We had (among other things) classic country from Grace, jazz from Nelson, original songs from Kaden, Taylor, Melody and McKain, and, in the time-honored string band tradition, a closing song performed by most everyone who had been on stage that evening.
It was a treat to see the different styles and personalities happening at camp. Queerness is deeply familiar with blurring boundaries and norms, and so it was watching music made on stringed instruments move and shift between so many different genres and stories. It made you feel limitless.
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The night closed with another string band tradition: throwing all need for sleep to the wind in service of picking. Many thanks go to everyone who stuck around and hung out, especially those who indulged my desire to sing lead on “Old Home Place” despite not being able to teach it. Sometimes you want to be Tony for a bit, and that’s okay.