Perhaps you’ve seen them—charming passers-by with their juxtaposing presentation of grimy appearances and nearly perfected musicianship. Maybe you’ve heard their home-grown harmonies echoing down late night streets that dwell in the rainy afterglow of local celebrations like Last Thursday or Saturday Market. Indeed it is possible that their live performance has stolen your heart in an old west kind of way and tucked it back into yourself, deeper, freer and more inspired.
Is it those two handsome guitarists down by Pioneer Square crooning old Beatles tunes? Is it that old ragtime trio down by the Farmers Market with the washboard and tub bass? No and no. It is that swinging bluegrass quartet, Fruition—oozing with devilishly tasteful soul and redefining the idea of how to play a “show” by standing on street corners with an open guitar case.
This band helps define a movement of music that is as old as the folk songs of the Kentucky Mountains and as honest as a soldier on his deathbed. It’s about community and truth.
It’s sometimes referred to as the “school of life” and is frequently described as a sort of medicinal countercultural revolution—leading back into the roots of music and into the very humanity that created it.
Fruition sweeps away societal labels and walls that come with being a member of such an individualistic culture, and they do it by appealing to and bringing together a limitless audience. People from all walks of life find enjoyment in their performances.
As guitarist Kellen Asebroek puts it, “it’s a show and a party and just a chance to be yourself.” The satisfaction of the audience is a direct result of the chemistry of the performers, who describe themselves as family.
“The first time we played together was live, out in the street, for a moving audience, which was a pretty raw experience,” Asebroek said. “We noticed that when we all sang together, that was when people really stopped and listened.”
In fact, one reason Fruition stands out in the buoyant sea of Portland bluegrass is because of their masterfully unpolished harmonies. Don’t be misguided though—their harmonies are tight, but in a loose, very organic, very human fashion. Solos and vocals are indulged by all four members, which in addition to Asebroek include Mimi Naja, Keith Simon and Jay Cobb Anderson.
As far as influences go, Gillian Welch is the most widely agreed-upon source of influence by all band mates, though inspiration is anything but finite.
“We are inspired,” said Asebroek, “by everything that happens in a day, in a month, in a lifetime. We all vibe to the groovier side of music, like old funk and blues.”
One could suppose their success is not necessarily due to their external influences, but the internal artistry and innovation found within each other.
As a string band, mobility is much easier to attain than other bands with plugs and amps and chords and microphones and so their dedication to street performance is maintained. They claim to thrive, financially and spiritually, on the gritty experience found only on the streets of Portland, namely the Hawthorne district, where the band is frequently entertaining.
Despite the release of a publicly discredited album, Hawthorne Hoedown, Fruition has continued to soothe a variety of music enthusiasts as well as record more albums. On March 11, the much more professional self-titled album produced by Hot Buttered Rum’s Nat Keefe was released to the public.
They will also be playing the Earth Day festival with the March Fourth Marching Band, as well as making appearances at Portland’s Brewfest on the waterfront and Mountain Stomp Music Festival in the Siuslaw National Forest.
Even with a musical style that transcends mainstream labeling, what truly captures audiences is Fruition’s ease and honesty on stage. They like to be light-hearted and informal in a time when sometimes music performance is taken way too seriously. Fruition is a must-see for old time folk lovers, hootenanny dancers and generally laid-back soul junkies.