Joy Maples: How the Music StartedIn 2006, my husband bought me an upright bass.
I picked up the long, carved wooden neck of my first Englehardt Supreme ES-1, topped with its handsome scroll, and on that day, I became a musician.
The connection was immediate—and wholly unexpected. I had no musical background, but I took hold of that bass as though I had known her, Louise, my entire life. Something about the instrument felt familiar. A new form of expression was born from that instant comfort between me, the bass, and the music.
I was on a new path.
Looking back, each of my careers has involved a passion for communication and understanding. Music simply gave me another language.
A Brief History of Mountain MusicWhen music found me, it became a side hustle that refused to go away.
Performing is the ultimate act of vulnerability, yet the stage is one of the places I feel most comfortable. It is a place of discovery—of my own humanity, my depth of feeling, and my connection with other people. Surprisingly, it did not frighten my decidedly “not a hugger” self. It drew me in.
As I went deeper into music, I discovered the Alan Lomax Collection. I listened to songs from Appalachia and learned how many could be traced back to England, Scotland, and Ireland. I fell in love with the rawness, the honesty, and the history of mountain music as it traveled down the Eastern Seaboard and became part of the heart and soul of early America.
Those recordings are filled with emotion, storytelling, and a purity that can break your heart. Music can accomplish what spoken and written language sometimes cannot.
It is pure magic.
Joy’s Musical InfluencesI love the lonely sound of mountain music, passed orally from one generation to the next. I love the Carter Family and the body of traditional music that eventually became bluegrass—with its driving rhythm, blazing solos, and beautiful harmonies.
I was never a Jerry Garcia or Grateful Dead fan, but I have come to appreciate Garcia’s deep love for traditional American music. Before the Grateful Dead, he hoped to play banjo with Bill Monroe, the father of bluegrass, and his Blue Grass Boys. Years ago, I served as a trustee of the Bluegrass Music Hall of Fame & Museum in Owensboro, Kentucky, which has also explored Garcia’s connection to bluegrass and traditional music.
Another musical hero of mine is Django Reinhardt, one of the founders of the European Gypsy jazz movement. Like Bill Monroe, Reinhardt came from humble beginnings. Neither man followed a traditional path through classical training, but both possessed a burning desire to make a life in music.
That is where I find my connection.
Honestly, there are days when I would like to pack everything up and spend all my time playing. The songs of early America, Reinhardt’s European jazz, bluegrass, newgrass, Americana, alt-country—it is all one beautiful mess, and I do not want to miss a moment or a note of it.
Alas, a girl’s gotta work.
Currently Playing with Manitou Strings and A Few FriendsI play upright bass in several Colorado Springs-area projects, including Manitou Strings and, formerly, Hickabee, while continuing my steady ascent toward true rock-star status.
I am always open to collaboration, so if you have a project that might be a good fit, get in touch.
It is an honor to share the stage with people who love music—people who write their own songs, work at their craft, and feel the same rush from live performance.
I love the balance between the confidence that comes from rehearsal and the unpredictability of performing in real time. I actually like rehearsal. But then there is the other thing: the magic created between my instrument, the people sharing the stage, and the audience listening.
Playing in bars and local venues has also given me an unusual perspective. Sometimes the musicians are the main event. Other times, we are simply there to create the atmosphere—the soundtrack rather than the spectacle.
I value both.
Playing OnBecause I spent more of my life not being a musician, I understand more clearly what music has given me.
Songs become attached to people, places, and memories. As a musician, I do not mind being in the background. I enjoy being the soundtrack to someone’s evening out, the melody behind a great first date, or even the heartbreaking rhythm accompanying loss and disappointment.
Music connects people. It celebrates life and its joys. It gives us a way to grieve in times of sorrow. It removes walls, ignores barriers, and reaches people in ways that can heal and restore.
Music came to me later in life, and I pray I never stop being grateful for it.
Sometimes I suspect the only reason I continue to pursue athleticism is so I can hold up this enormous bass well into old age.
Gratefully,
Joy
I picked up the long, carved wooden neck of my first Englehardt Supreme ES-1, topped with its handsome scroll, and on that day, I became a musician.
The connection was immediate—and wholly unexpected. I had no musical background, but I took hold of that bass as though I had known her, Louise, my entire life. Something about the instrument felt familiar. A new form of expression was born from that instant comfort between me, the bass, and the music.
I was on a new path.
Looking back, each of my careers has involved a passion for communication and understanding. Music simply gave me another language.
A Brief History of Mountain MusicWhen music found me, it became a side hustle that refused to go away.
Performing is the ultimate act of vulnerability, yet the stage is one of the places I feel most comfortable. It is a place of discovery—of my own humanity, my depth of feeling, and my connection with other people. Surprisingly, it did not frighten my decidedly “not a hugger” self. It drew me in.
As I went deeper into music, I discovered the Alan Lomax Collection. I listened to songs from Appalachia and learned how many could be traced back to England, Scotland, and Ireland. I fell in love with the rawness, the honesty, and the history of mountain music as it traveled down the Eastern Seaboard and became part of the heart and soul of early America.
Those recordings are filled with emotion, storytelling, and a purity that can break your heart. Music can accomplish what spoken and written language sometimes cannot.
It is pure magic.
Joy’s Musical InfluencesI love the lonely sound of mountain music, passed orally from one generation to the next. I love the Carter Family and the body of traditional music that eventually became bluegrass—with its driving rhythm, blazing solos, and beautiful harmonies.
I was never a Jerry Garcia or Grateful Dead fan, but I have come to appreciate Garcia’s deep love for traditional American music. Before the Grateful Dead, he hoped to play banjo with Bill Monroe, the father of bluegrass, and his Blue Grass Boys. Years ago, I served as a trustee of the Bluegrass Music Hall of Fame & Museum in Owensboro, Kentucky, which has also explored Garcia’s connection to bluegrass and traditional music.
Another musical hero of mine is Django Reinhardt, one of the founders of the European Gypsy jazz movement. Like Bill Monroe, Reinhardt came from humble beginnings. Neither man followed a traditional path through classical training, but both possessed a burning desire to make a life in music.
That is where I find my connection.
Honestly, there are days when I would like to pack everything up and spend all my time playing. The songs of early America, Reinhardt’s European jazz, bluegrass, newgrass, Americana, alt-country—it is all one beautiful mess, and I do not want to miss a moment or a note of it.
Alas, a girl’s gotta work.
Currently Playing with Manitou Strings and A Few FriendsI play upright bass in several Colorado Springs-area projects, including Manitou Strings and, formerly, Hickabee, while continuing my steady ascent toward true rock-star status.
I am always open to collaboration, so if you have a project that might be a good fit, get in touch.
It is an honor to share the stage with people who love music—people who write their own songs, work at their craft, and feel the same rush from live performance.
I love the balance between the confidence that comes from rehearsal and the unpredictability of performing in real time. I actually like rehearsal. But then there is the other thing: the magic created between my instrument, the people sharing the stage, and the audience listening.
Playing in bars and local venues has also given me an unusual perspective. Sometimes the musicians are the main event. Other times, we are simply there to create the atmosphere—the soundtrack rather than the spectacle.
I value both.
Playing OnBecause I spent more of my life not being a musician, I understand more clearly what music has given me.
Songs become attached to people, places, and memories. As a musician, I do not mind being in the background. I enjoy being the soundtrack to someone’s evening out, the melody behind a great first date, or even the heartbreaking rhythm accompanying loss and disappointment.
Music connects people. It celebrates life and its joys. It gives us a way to grieve in times of sorrow. It removes walls, ignores barriers, and reaches people in ways that can heal and restore.
Music came to me later in life, and I pray I never stop being grateful for it.
Sometimes I suspect the only reason I continue to pursue athleticism is so I can hold up this enormous bass well into old age.
Gratefully,
Joy
