The Baltimore Old Time Music Festival Celebrates the City’s Americana Past and Present

Ken Kolodner first picked up a fiddle in 1977 with a simple goal: to play well enough to join others.

Then a newcomer to music, the Baltimore native learned by ear and from other musicians. He took a classical violin lesson once but—in what can only be viewed as a sign—it was disrupted by a home robbery. Nobody was hurt but, as Kolodner recalls, “That was the end of my violin lessons.”

But it didn’t stop his interest in music. He went on to attend workshops and festivals across the Mid-Atlantic. He sharpened his skills, learned another instrument—the hammered dulcimer—and formed Helicon, a beloved Baltimore-based trio that blended various musical styles, including Appalachian bluegrass and its predecessor, “old time,” aka early American folk music, often performed for rural dances and social gatherings.

Now 70, Kolodner has become a sort of elder statesmen of Baltimore’s old-time music scene—performing locally, giving lessons, and co-hosting jam sessions every other Tuesday at The Bluebird Cocktail Room with his son, Brad, 35.

“I had no vision of pulling together the community,” he says. “I was basically just playing.”

Today, the father-son duo organizes the Baltimore Old Time Music Festival, a two-day gathering of roots musicians from across the country. In its sixth year, it returns to the Baltimore Museum of Industry (BMI) on April 18 and 19.

“Last year, we sold about 1,200 tickets,” says Brad, a celebrated clawhammer banjoist in his own right. “We’re going to hit that again. We’ve [already] pulled in folks from 24 states.”

Baltimore has long been a hub for bluegrass and old-time music, though it’s never exactly been flashy about it. As the coal industry declined in the mid-20th century, Southern migrants traveled the “Hillbilly Highway” north, bringing their string instruments to working-class neighborhoods in Baltimore, whose residents fueled the city’s war-time industrial boom.

“Many Appalachian migrants were viewed as outsiders,” says Brad. “Their music and culture weren’t something they tried to commodify or promote.”

Instead, the music took off organically. Much of the scene developed in homes and corner bars, where workers performed until last call. Whether their musical circles were a distraction from the grind or a celebration of togetherness, the scene was participatory.

And it fostered some Americana greats, including West Virginia-born singer Hazel Dickens, who arrived in Hampden as a teenager, worked factory jobs by day and performed locally at night, her evocative voice carrying her all the way to induction into the Bluegrass Hall of Fame.

Dickens’ story epitomizes Baltimore’s industrious DNA. This month, the Old Time Festival will take place where workers once hauled crates for Platt & Co. Oysters, a canning giant in the 1880s, when it employed some 30,000 people. Nearby, the Domino Sugars sign will twinkle, a storied reminder of the industry that has hummed along the Patapsco River.

It’s that same spirit that remains alive in the city’s creative community today. “You can have a good quality of life and make a living as an artist here,” says Brad. “Baltimore probably has the largest and fastest-growing old-time music community in the country.”

The festival reflects that momentum. Programming kicks off on Thursday, April 17, with a honky-tonk dance party at Waverly Brewing. Friday night brings a kickoff concert at the BMI, followed by Saturday’s all-day main event.

Attendees can enjoy stage performances as well as hands-on workshops with teaching artists and living room-style jams where people can play alongside the very musicians inspiring old-time’s new directions, like headlining act New Dangerfield, a string band reviving Black folk traditions.

“It’s a testament to what’s happening here,” says Brad. “Old-time music will never die. We’re just the current incarnation—but it’ll go on long after us.”