Musical Justice

Written By James McAllister

A local attorney discovers his musical talents and becomes a driving force behind Columbia’s music scene

On a cold winter’s evening, Bentz Kirby — attorney by day, troubadour by night — loads in the P.A. and other musical accoutrements that a one-man music impresario uses to ply his trade. He’s his own roadie, his own manager, his own songwriter, his own guitar picker, and this is another night of doing what he loves best: making live music.

On this occasion Kirby is more, however, than a one-man music road show — yes, it’s an otherwise ordinary weekday evening on Rosewood Drive, but inside Utopia it’s almost time for Right Bank Rails, which is what Kirby calls the singer-songwriter nights he hosts. Now all he needs is a few courageous, fellow tunesmiths to share the open mic with him.

As he tunes up his “cheap Washburn” guitar, he surveys the early dinner crowd occupying the scattered tables inside and out. “I hope they’re here to check out the music—’cause that’s what they’re going to get.” To Bentz Kirby, music is the bread of life, and sharing that artistic sustenance with like-minded folks is what drives his spiritual and creative life.

By day Kirby attends to his civil law practice in Orangeburg, but in the last decade his free time has been spent writing songs, performing, and in general fostering an environment designed to stimulate both artists as well as the music-loving public.

He not only hosts open mic night, but also fronts two different bands — Alien Carnival, a straight-up rock band, and Jellyroll & Delicious Dish, a vocal combo focusing on a more traditional, folk and blues songbook. In addition, he and his wife May feature what he calls “house concerts,” in which traveling musicians appear in the Kirby living room, playing to small but appreciative audiences. In a town that lacks music venues, he considers these shows, promoted through word of mouth and social media, to be a “public service.”

In addition to those endeavors and his ongoing open mic nights, Kirby also organizes and promotes annual tributes to past, iconic music festivals like Woodstock and Monterrey Pop, in which local musicians recreate the songbooks of classic rock acts. His musical energy seems boundless.

Marty Fort, an influential Columbia musician and booking agent, offers high praise for Kirby: “If every musician in this town cared and promoted as hard as he does, Columbia would be the next Athens or Nashville.”

Like millions of people his age — a true American baby boomer, in his late 50s — Kirby’s interest in music goes back to his initial exposure to songs by artists like Bob Dylan, the Beatles, and the Byrds. “I can remember the first time I heard The Byrds’ version of ‘Mr. Tambourine Man,’ in about the fifth or sixth grade,” he says. “I was in the lobby of the YMCA in Easley playing bumper pool, and it was just a very strange and different sound.”

His interest was further stoked by seminal rock records such as Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, as well as a once-invaluable resource on which the iPod-generation no longer relies in the quest to discover interesting music: the radio. “An old FM station, WQOK, had a lot of influence on me. In one hour you could hear everything from the Beatles to Patti Page to Sinatra to Motown soul music to Johnny Horton.”

As an older teenager, his introduction to large scale live music included several famous concerts of the era. The West Palm Beach International Music and Arts Festival featured superstars Janis Joplin, Jefferson Airplane, and the Rolling Stones, as well as relative unknowns such as King Crimson and Grand Funk Railroad. Kirby beams at the memory: “On Sunday the Vanilla Fudge played, then Johnny Winter, then Janis — they all came out and jammed.”

That next summer, his musical journey included two important events: First, a daylong Atlanta concert called the Cosmic Carnival, at which he saw acts like Frank Zappa and Traffic, as well as a new group that made an impression, the Allman Brothers Band. A month later came the “Southern Woodstock” known as the Atlanta International Pop Festival, where, along with superstars like Jimi Hendrix, he once again saw the Allman Brothers, for whom he had cultivated true admiration.

But the more music he absorbed, the more he wished to make his own.

 For all his youthful interest in music, however, a long lapse would come between his initial fantasies about writing and performing music and his current status as Columbia elder statesman of the music scene. “As an adolescent, I wanted to be a rock star, not a lawyer.” As John Lennon once said, sometimes life gets in the way of our dreams.

All was to change, though, because of another source of music in many people’s lives — his church. He’d done some singing with the choir, getting his bearings by listening to the other voices; because he had a guitar, he was asked to play in a praise and worship band.

A church talent show, however, was his first true stab at singing and playing in public. “I was planning to do Bob Dylan’s ‘Every Grain of Sand,’ and right about the same time I had been trading email with Roger McGuinn,” one of the voices from The Byrds who’d so captivated his nascent musical intellect. “But then I decided I was losing my nerve and didn’t want to do the song.”

When Kirby wrote to the 60s rock star about his reticence, however, McGuinn encouraged him to go for the experience, writing that any chance to perform music for fellow human beings was a worthy endeavor. Kirby followed through, and a new life began for him.

Following an appearance as opening act for Camden blues guitarist Jeff Norwood, Kirby then had the confidence to start performing his own songs, as well as promoting his signature singer-songwriter nights, at clubs like the defunct Red Tub in West Columbia, the Cock & Bull, and now Utopia. His music career about which he’d dreamed had taken off.

His original songs express strong emotions about aging, his family history, and even about the art form itself — his song “Real Music” excoriates the industry machine that cranks out stars but not artists: You can take your songs that sound the same/pitch corrected singers like Shania Twain/Clear Channel demographics/it’s insane.

 Another country tune, “Ridin’ In My Car,” expresses his desire to commune with one of the greats: If I meet Hank Williams’ ghost/I hope we can be friends. Other songs reflect a wistfulness for past, youthful road adventures, still others name check more music greats, both famous and otherwise, with whom he has shared experiences.

For the moment, though, he remains determined to share his creativity not with superstars, but local artists on their way up. His singer-songwriter nights, he hopes, have helped up and coming talents to get further bookings. “There’s some great songwriters in this town. A lot of them are also very accomplished guitarists — Josh McGill, Hannah Miller, Scott Brodie Porterfield, Greg Bates, Dave Michelson, James Ponce.”

So let’s add another name to that list of fine local artists, an easy one to remember, especially to anyone who appreciates hearing good music played well: Bentz Kirby, a humble, creative spirit, is not only one of the engines keeping Columbia’s music scene thriving—he might just be single-handedly keeping it real.