A couple of years ago, they came through Colorado on a Wednesday night, the night there's always an old-timey jam in the living room. Half-way through the evening, someone started "Hop High Ladies"
Did you ever go to meetin', Uncle Joe, Uncle Joe?Did you ever go to meetin' Uncle Joe, Uncle Joe?Did you ever go to meetin' Uncle Joe, Uncle Joe?I don't mind the weather if the wind don't blow.
Jack burst out laughing. "That's a Klezmer tune," he said, and joined in.
Larry Edelman tells a story of a European tour he was on. He was teaching the band a tune from Northern New Mexico, at a home they were staying in, in Denmark, when his host came running upstairs.
"You play Danish folk music!" his host said.
"That's a tune played for a traditional dance from northern New Mexico," Larry said.
"Oh no, no, no," his host said, "that's a Danish dance." His host showed him the dance -- a different dance -- and then sang him the Danish lyrics. The dance was related, but different.
The next week, Larry was in Belgium, staying with a Belgian dancing master. He played the same tune, and his host said, "That's a Flemish dance tune." Slightly different dance, again. Not only did it have Flemish lyrics, but the story line was different.
Did it migrate to Spain from the Spanish Netherlands, when the Hapsburgs ruled the Low Countries in the 16th and 17th centuries? And how did it jump between Denmark and Flanders? Perhaps someone's traced that history.
In Scotland, "Hop High Ladies" is played as "Miss MacLeod's Reel." Getting from Scotland to the New World? I can imagine that. But how did it get to the shtetls of Eastern Europe?
I can't imagine the tunes were invented independently. Evolution from common descent: it's not just for chimps anymore.
