John Grimm

John in his music shop, Vintage Music.

Interview Highlights

So there’s not a question of whether the chicken comes before the egg—it’s obvious that music would come before the shop. How did music come into your life, and where does the shop fit into that?

I think I realized how powerful music was when I was a little kid. I mean, I was really little—maybe I was five. I heard the song, “I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry”. I had no idea what lonesome even was as a five-year old! But I heard this song, and I knew then, what it was. I just realized how powerful music was and that made me want to play.  

Then when I was eleven or twelve, I got a classical guitar for Christmas. It’s actually that one there [points to classical guitar hanging in the shop]. The folk scare was going on, like the Kingston Trio, Peter, Paul, & Mary, and an English teacher at the time started this group that played folk music and I had an older brother who was in it. The name of the band was “The Upperclassmen” and I was in grade school. Somehow, I got to audition in that band and got to play with them—and I just thought I was hot stuff! So that’s when I started playing guitar. 

My older brother—he was about three or four years older than I was—and he was always super good at sports and stuff like that. He would do more chin-ups than me—he was better at everything! He played guitar in this band too. When “House of the Rising Sun” came onto the radio, I figured it out by ear and he wanted me to teach him how to play that, and I wouldn’t teach him how to play it. There was finally something that I could do better than him! [laughs]

What drew you to old-time music?

It was mostly the players. Actually, I had just gotten married and we were on our honeymoon somewhere in Knoxville. We were walking around and we saw this old-time band, a bunch of young kids playing—they were chewing a bunch of tobacco [laughs], all dirty and wearing overalls. But it just had this rocking sound to it and I was really drawn to the rhythmic aspect of it, I think. And then I moved to Memphis and there were some fiddle players there. I couldn’t play fiddle very well, which drove me crazy, because these guys were really good. I was used to being fairly proficient in rock and roll, doing lead guitar stuff, so not being able to come up to the level that they were at really bothered me, and once again, I just worked really hard at it. 

Later on in years, I was lucky enough to take lessons from Bruce Molsky, when he lived in Atlanta. I was playing with the Pea Vine Creek String Band and Louis Wills was taking lessons from Bruce. He said, “You should take lessons from Bruce” and I said “I don’t need to take any lessons, I got a good ear, I can learn whatever!” But he kept insisting, “You really should”—and that was the best thing I ever did. Bruce showed me things that would’ve taken years to learn, things like bow-rocking and all that stuff. Then I went to Galax when Tommy [Jarrell] was still alive and Bruce said, “Just sit out here and listen to this guy.” and that was a huge influence on me.  

You also had a stained glass shop before Vintage Music, right? 

I did! I started off doing stained glass and then I had one or two guitars—I would always buy and sell guitars. And then I decided I wanted to be a music store as well. So it was called “Architectural Glassworks and Vintage Music”. I had a friend come in one day who said, “Do you sell tires as well?” 

What year did you start running Vintage Music full-time? 

Probably thirty years ago? I’ve been in business over thirty-two years now. 

What aspects of the musical landscape have changed over the years here, and how has the shop changed to adapt to that?

When they started doing jams on the square, that was a big increase in music. Of course, Pick & Bow has been a huge influence—teaching kids old-time and bluegrass. When I first came here, there was a guy that ran a history store down the road and Glenda Pender—the three of us used to get together because there used to be music on the square, and when I first started, there was no music on the square. The three of us got together and wanted to start that up again, so we actually paid people to come and play on the square. Previous to that, there was a guy named L.D. Snipes who used to play on the square. He was an old-time fiddler who used to play with the Skillet-Lickers at one point. But I guess they ran him off—he may have drank, I don’t know. But anyway, the merchants didn’t like it at some point in the past and then there was no music for years. So we hired some people and started that back up again. And now, every weekend, you can see people playing all over the place. 

What have been some of your favorite instruments to pass through the shop? 

I had a fifties gold-top Les Paul—it was all gold, beautiful instrument. It smelled like incense. I went to this yard sale and there was this gold-top Les Paul with a matching Gibson amplifier, I could not believe it. I asked the guy if I could buy it but the guy selling it said that someone just told him, whatever you do, do not sell that guitar because he would be back. But this guy had all kinds of stuff for sale—a huge organ, all this junk everywhere. I said, “I’ll tell you what: if you sell this guitar to me, I’ll buy everything you have.” I can’t remember how much I paid for it, maybe a couple thousand dollars, I don’t know. I had to get a big truck to load up everything, the big organ and all—like where am I going to put this thing?! But I just went ahead and bought everything. That guitar was a really great guitar. I played that with the Rural Radio Company, another band I was in, and recorded with it some. But I think I needed money for taxes one year, and sold it. I think I sold it for six thousand dollars, which was what it was worth at the time, but now it would be over twenty grand, easy. So I kind of regret not having that. I had a seafoam green Fender guitar that I wished I still had too. But you can’t hang onto everything. That’s what’s kind of hard about running a vintage store—I’ll get a really nice vintage guitar in, and if I sell them all, then I’ll wonder how I can call my store a place that sells vintage guitars? But you can’t keep them either. It’s a catch twenty-two. But now, when I get a nice guitar in, I just want to enjoy it for a couple weeks before I let it go. 

You have the recording studio, teach lessons, cater to music camps during the summers, used to work the sound at the Crimson Moon (our local restaurant and music venue), appeared in videos and film..that’s so many relationships to people. What have been some of the most fulfilling projects you’ve been part of through music? 

As far as movies, probably The People Versus Leo Frank”, where I played Fiddlin’ John Carson—that was fun. The tune they had me play, I think Moonshine Kate actually played on banjo, and there was no recording of Fiddlin’ John playing it on the fiddle, though I’m sure he did play it. I had to re-create what I thought he might play—that was interesting. I used a different tuning, I wasn’t sure if he would use it or not, tuned the E string down to D or something like that. 

How did the filmers find you? 

I think they first asked Mick Kinney, who’s a great Georgia fiddle player. The story I’ve heard from the producer—I haven’t heard this from Mick, but, was that he had to shave his beard and he didn’t want to do that. That’s what I heard.   

So you ended up shaving your beard?

Definitely! Shave my beard for a movie gig, yeah I’ll do it! 

Most recently, we’ve gotten coverage from our local newspaper, the Dahlonega Nugget, on COVID’s impact on the shop and the community’s response to that. One thing that I was struck by in the article was a quote by you that said that you’d like to retire soon, but that you didn’t want to retire in a town without its own music shop. What aspects of a physical music shop feel most irreplaceable to you?

The community aspect, without a doubt—I don’t even have to think about that. Just a central place where musicians can meet each other and play, see instruments, and have it not be a corporate, kind of faceless entity.

Check out this article for more about John and the shop, or this article about the power of community during COVID that helped support Vintage Music.