Sitron's Sounds

Ron Sitton grew up on Southern gospel and rock 'n' roll, even fronting an ill-fated band called QdAne in the mid-1990s. As a member of the UALR Concert Choir, he toured Mexico and sang in New York City's Carnegie Hall.

The blues leveled Sitton in the late '90s while he studied for his doctorate in Tennessee. He picked up a harmonica at the turn of the century, driving his two black cats off the porch of his Ohio cabin during a stay north of the Mason-Dixon line. Since then, he’s played blues jams from Knoxville to Richmond to New Orleans to Little Rock.

Over time, he’s honed his Delta sound with original tunes he showcases at Mocha Madness, a coffee shop gathering every semester at the University of Arkansas at Monticello, where he teaches journalism at his day job. Mocha Madness patrons dubbed Dr. Ron as “Straight Sitton,” a moniker fitting for his one-man harmonica-wailing act.

Sitton entered the Arkansas River Blues Society's competition to represent the state at The Blues Foundation’s 25^th Annual International Blues Challenge. He performed a solo act as "Straight Sitton," earning a free beer from a bartender for the sing-a-long "20 Percent." The crowd participation wasn't enough to overcome a false start on one song and resorting to a cover when it was determined Sitton might not fill the 25 minutes allotted. He finished Son House's classic "Grinnin' In Your Face" with seconds to spare, but the rendition sounded too much like the original. At least he showed determination by singing acapella.

Roots

Sitton always loved music. His mother played piano for the church, while his father played a stand-up bass and sang for many years. It hooked Ronny at a young age. His mother took him and his sister to nursing homes to sing Gospel songs to the elderly and disabled. It did a body good to see people's faces light up and hear voices join in praise to God.

While living in El Paso, Texas, he learned how to play piano while attending the Yamaha Music School. However, he quit practicing and never became highly proficient at it. Even so, the time spent learning how to read music served him well the rest of his life.

NE High School Troubador
At the age of 16, he temporarily led the church choir following the resignation of the song director in protest of the deacons asking the pastor to leave after he asked for more tithing during one Sunday morning sermon. He learned it's not easy to direct a large group of people, especially when most of them are at least twice your age.

Though he's tried many kinds of music, he always returns to praise the Lord.

During junior high, he played the baritone horn, earning All-State recognition by his ninth-grade year. But despite the protests from director Richard Wiseman, Ronny gave up band to focus on football. But the love of music did not fade, so he joined the chorus at Northeast High School in his junior year. By his senior year, he received All-State recognition as a tenor.

   While attending the University of Arkansas at Little Rock, Sitton joined the Concert Choir, where he sang bass and tenor depending on the needs of the group. In 1988, the Concert Choir under Tom Miyaki performed Antonio Vivaldi's Gloria. Miyaki made an impression on Sitton by calling him out for relying on talent rather than practice. That made Sitton actually begin to work on music more.

stagebill    As he continued singing, he became exposed to even more beautiful music. Following Miyaki's departure, UALR brought in Ray Moore, who had a penchant for touring with his choirs. In 1989, he took the Concert Choir to perform with other choruses in the MidAmerica Productions' Easter performance of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart's Coronation Mass at in New York City's Carnegie Hall on March 21, 1989.

   "It was the opportunity of a lifetime," Sitton said. "The music was so intricate ... if you missed a note it was like pulling a strand from a spiderweb."

   While touring Mexico City, Puerto Vallarta and Guadalajara in Spring 1990, the choir performed Poulenc's "Gloria" in Spring 1990. In Spring 1991, the choir performed Mozart's "C Minor Mass" as part of Artspree's observance of Wolfgang Amadeus' 200th birthday.

   The most intense performance, though, occured in 1991 at a Dallas, Texas business association meeting honoring Sam Walton, founder of Wal-Mart. The performance came shortly on the heels of Operation Desert Storm. During a patriotic medley, the crowd of 300+ joined in song and the room came alive; tears freely flowed from Mr. Walton's eyes. From a musician's standpoint, Sitton says the high was indescribable.

Sitton also sang in the Muskingum College Choral Society with the Southeastern Ohio Symphonic Orchestra during his stay in New Concord from 2002-2003.

"I believe my experience as a member of large choirs helped train my ear and increased my comfort in front of a crowd," he says. "After tackling Vivaldi, Mozart, Poulenc and Pergolesi, I understand technical aspects of music as well as the feel of a piece."

Rock 'n' Roll Fantasy

QdAne - Sean (lead guitar), Gordon (drumming, though hard to see), Ron, Steve (rhythm guitar) and Jamey (bass) playing at Zingers, circa 1993. Though the band only stayed together six months, they generated 14 original tunes.

In the mid-1990s, Sitton fronted a rock'n'roll band called QdAne. His cousin, Sean Andrews, played lead guitar with Steve Warmack on rhythm guitar, Gordon Brodsky on drums and Jamey Black on bass. Though they cut a demo with five cover tunes and seven of their 14 original cuts, the band didn't last.

Through the wizardry of the Internet, Sitton wrote about the band and got in contact with everyone years later. Sean's playing more in a jazz vein in Boston when relaxing from his medical practice. Steve plays in the boswells -- their single "Wanted" got to No. 5 at garageband.com in 2000 -- and Jamey played for Selfish Child, the Sun Kings and Alphabet Soup.

Though he thoroughly enjoyed the experience, Sitton learned he couldn't count on music to provide much more than fun. It provided his first experience in the studio, which would prove valuable a few years later.

In 1997, Sitton joined Searcy guitarist Jeff Davis and Conway drummer Jonathan Taylor to collaborate on GrassMusic for the Era. In addition to singing backup vocals, Sitton also provided the photos that adorned the front and back covers of this CD. GrassMusic for the Era is jazz fused with the blues, touched by funk and leavened with a bit of backwoods country. Davis now leads a contingent of bands -- BEN.BEN., .NEB.NEB Posh-Crow, Sir Threadius Mongus and The Shuffle Band -- in Tulsa, Okla.

For the first time, Sitton thought music may provide a way. But he was also determined to find that "day job" by continuing his education at the University of Tennessee. He thought music would have to wait since it didn't abide to his qualifications.

"I've always said if I could make enough playing (music) to put a roof over my head and shoes on my feet, I wouldn't do anything else. But I haven't hit that spot yet," he said.

Learning the Blues

Think rain, lotsa rain, day after day for a good two months. That's what Sitton encountered in Knoxville, Tenn., in 1998. It didn't improve his bout with depression after losing the woman whom, at that time, he believed would be the love of his life. At first he turned to jazz -- Billie and Louie made him smile; Miles and Coltrane made him think; the Duke and Brubeck made him move. Squirrel Nut Zippers kept reminding him, when one door shuts, another opens because there's always "Plenty More."

Little did he realize it meant plenty mo' blues. As Albert King said, everybody feels the blues, everybody knows the blues. When a baby cries, he's got the blues. When a woman is wrecked over her no-good man, she's got the blues. Son House said you can play the blues in church if you get the words right, i.e. when it's from the heart. It ain't just singin' to keep from cryin', it's cryin' and moanin' thru the song. It's lettin' out the hurtin' in a good way.

Photo by Robert Hess

Brothers - Sitton sings while Christopher Andrews jams at the VolBamaSlammaJam on Wilson's porch.

"If my ex-old lady did nothing else for me, she gave me the blues. For that I'm thankful. Otherwise, I couldn't have ever known what I was missin'," Sitton said at the time.

   But Sitton felt out of place. He didn't play an instrument outside of an occasional tambourine or cabasa. Still, he enjoyed the music. Occasionally, they'd jam on Wilson's porch in Knoxville's Fort Sanders neighborhood. During one such jam - the VolBamaSlammaJam for the Tennessee-Alabama football game - Sitton decided he needed to pick up another instrument.

   He found inspiration by attending the first Bonnaroo. a cajun word for party. The Bonnaroo festival featured jam bands, country bands, bluegrass bands and even some blues — something like 35 bands over three days in the middle of the Tennessee heat. And probably 50,000 campers enjoying the show.

   It was one of the most incredible weekends Sitton's ever experienced, which could have been due to two Widespread Panic shows. The sun beat down, giving everyone a farmer's tan and keeping it much too hot to drink, so there wasn't any problems with the crowd; could be they were just cool? It took some people 16 hours to get into the farm, and others took at least eight hours to get out. But it only took the Knoxville crew about five hours to get in and four hours to get out.

The diversity of music moved Sitton such that he decided to pick up the harmonica. He moved to New Concord, Ohio, to teach while trying to finish his dissertation. Not knowing very many people helped him concentrate on learning the harmonica. He'd sit on the front porch of his cabin, which sat two blocks off Main Steet behind John Glenn's childhood home. As he became more comfortable with the harp, his two black cats stayed on the porch longer and longer.

Photo by Cassie Moore

Sassy - Sitton sings the blues at Sassy Ann's, with Steve Michel (l.) and Danny Lee Michel (r.) layin' down the lead guitars.

When he returned to Knoxville for his dissertation defense, Sitton also stopped to play at Sassy Ann's. He found he'd become pretty decent and could hold his own with much more accomplished musicians. Before leaving Ohio, he jammed with students at the B&M Staff Party until the police showed up because neighbors complained you could hear it all over town and even up the hill at the college.

Headin' back South, he played at Sassy Ann's and other blues jams in New Orleans (The Maple Leaf Bar) and Little Rock (Juanita's). He even played at a gig with his brother's band, Johnnie & The Lowdowns, when they jammed at the Dewdrop Inn in Scottsville, Va.

At the Maple Leaf jam in New Orleans, Sitton got to play a set after meeting the crowd, and explaining that he'd been playin' harp a little. After a sizzlin' set with a radical guitar player, a lady stepped up and said, "I thought you said you could play harmonica a little? You didn't say you were a pro."

Bummaroo!

That's how he felt after the third Bonnaroo in Manchester, Tenn. Sitton also attended the initial two Bonnaroos, but only went to the 2004 version at the last minute due to Juanita's connections. Though only 90,000 tickets sold, an estimated 150,000 showed up to camp.

Photo by Latoya Shelton

Practice, practice, practice - Sitton blows harp on the subway while in New York City. The harmonica's size makes it easy to practice anywhere.

On the first night of the festival, someone stole Sitton's 31-year-old leather case with Indian stitchings holding 15 harmonicas of different keys. Talk about devastation. His grandfather gave him the case after a visit to Mexico in the 1970s. He tried enjoying the concerts (and did enjoy Taj Mahal), but the theft nagged at him. By the time he left, Sitton decided maybe it was a sign he should give up the dream of playing. After all, he had a "real" job now.

Luckily, three people kept him going. Sitton stopped by a childhood buddy's on the way home from the festival, and Bean gave away his only harmonica: a Horhner Bluesband in the key of C. For Sitton's birthday, Tanya bought a Lee Oskar D harp. Then Christopher sent a complete set of Kay's "Chicago Blues" harmonicas for Ron and Tanya's wedding present.

"I'm forever grateful to my wife, brother and good friend, Bean," Sitton said. "It took me awhile to start playing again, but I always come back to music sooner or later."

Madness?

Folks at the University of Arkansas at Monticello have given Sitton reason to believe music can always be a side path over life. Since 2005, he has played Mocha Madness, the poetry jam/entertainment coffeehouse sponsored by the Creative Society every semester. Eric Bell, a senior political science major, gave him the "Straight Sitton" moniker at one Mocha. Other students said his lyrics "stuck in my head."

Photo by Tanya Farthing

Fun on the 4th - Sitton (center) plays with Carolina and the Coconuts for Monticello's July 4th festivities in McCoy Park in 2007. He's been known to meet with Eric "Carolina" Davis to play down at Little Rock's River Market once in a blue moon.

Sitton says he sometimes wakes with music on the head. "It's kind of cool to have music in you ears when it's not playing in the current area so that people look at you as if you're completely crazy from knowing that you know that they have no clue that what your listening to could move minds and break those not able to bend in the sweeping torrent of ideas that could be put across to man and the world and so I bounce around the sound of the round off the ground that's wound and rebounded then found aground a mound as the hound wails at the moon ... I smile, of course."

The laid-back atmosphere of Mocha Madness gives Sitton plenty of opportunities to test old and new songs on a generation needing the blues in a new light. Rather than perform a bunch of covers, he prefers writing songs that make them think about situations. Sitton believes new material can help sway those who may think "the blues are dead." If nothing else, it might catch the ear of those who only now are learning causes of the blues. If he can help them understand the cycles of life, then his blues will have power.

"Part of life is livin' through the good and the bad, the drought and the flood, the giddiness and the blues," he says. "It's an equal high and low sooner or later, though I always found the extremes to be a little more fun in retrospect if not at the time of occurrence."