If you grew up anywhere near a television in 2008, there is a non-zero chance you have a fuzzy, melodic memory of a large white puppet dog sitting in a train caboose. That’s Lomax. Specifically, he was the star of Lomax, the Hound of Music, a show that arrived on PBS Kids with a mission that felt almost too academic for its own good: teaching preschoolers the nuances of American folk music.
It was weird. It was charming. It was essentially a musicology seminar disguised as a puppet show.
The show followed Lomax and his feline companion, Delta, as they traveled across the United States on a train called the Melody Hound Express. Their goal was simple but surprisingly deep—to "track down" songs. Not just any songs, mind you. We aren't talking about "Baby Shark" style earworms. We’re talking about the gritty, soulful, and sometimes bizarre roots of the American songbook.
The Man Behind the Puppet Dog
To understand why this show even exists, you have to look at the name. "Lomax" isn't just a cute name for a hound dog. It is a direct, albeit fuzzy, tribute to Alan Lomax.
Alan Lomax was a legendary ethnomusicologist. He spent his life lugging heavy recording equipment into the deep South, the Caribbean, and Europe to capture the voices of people who would otherwise be forgotten by history. He recorded Jelly Roll Morton, Woody Guthrie, and Lead Belly. Without the real-world Lomax, the landscape of American music would be a total desert.
So, when Christopher Cerf (a Sesame Street veteran) and Norman Stiles decided to create Lomax, the Hound of Music, they weren't just making a show about a dog who likes tunes. They were trying to translate the heavy lifting of ethnomusicology for four-year-olds.
Honestly? That is an audacious move for children’s television.
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Most shows for that age bracket focus on basic social-emotional skills or the alphabet. Lomax was out here trying to explain the concept of "The Derby Ram" or the melodic structure of "John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt." It treated folk music as a living, breathing artifact that kids should care about.
Why the Melody Hound Express Worked (and Why It Didn't)
The structure of the show was pretty consistent, though the energy was all over the place. Each episode usually centered on a specific theme or a specific type of song. You’d have the main puppet cast—Lomax, Delta the cat, and their human conductor, Amy—interacting with "real" people who performed the songs.
The puppetry was top-tier. John Tartaglia, who worked on Avenue Q and Sesame Street, was the soul behind Lomax. You can feel that Broadway-caliber energy in the way the dog moves. He wasn't just a static hand puppet; he had a physicality that made the "Hound of Music" feel like a real character you’d want to hang out with in a dusty train car.
The Music Was the Real Star
One thing people often forget is that the show didn't just play recordings. They had incredible guest stars. We’re talking about folk royalty.
- The Roche Sisters brought their haunting harmonies.
- Dan Zanes, the king of modern family folk, made frequent appearances.
- Guy Davis lent his bluesy authenticity to the episodes.
They didn't "kid-ify" the music too much. If a song was supposed to be a foot-stomping bluegrass track, that’s what the kids got. They didn't replace the banjos with synthesizers. It was authentic.
But here’s the thing: folk music is often repetitive and narrative-heavy. For a generation of kids raised on the hyper-speed editing of SpongeBob or even the bright, fast-paced world of Elmo’s World, Lomax felt... slow. It was deliberate. It asked you to listen.
The Weirdness of "The Derby Ram"
If you want to understand the vibe of Lomax, the Hound of Music, you have to look at how they handled songs like "The Derby Ram." This is an old tall-tale song about a giant sheep. In the show, they used a mix of live-action performance and puppet reaction shots.
It felt like a folk club for toddlers.
There’s a specific kind of "PBS uncanny valley" that this show lived in. The puppets were bright and expressive, but the settings were often simple, almost stage-like. This created a focus on the sound. If you close your eyes, the show is a masterclass in music education. If you keep them open, it’s a slightly surreal trip through a cardboard-and-felt version of Appalachia.
Why Did It Only Last One Season?
This is the question that haunts the small but dedicated fandom. Lomax, the Hound of Music only ran for about 13 episodes (some sources count them differently based on segments). It premiered in late 2008 and then... it just sort of drifted away into the ether of reruns and eventually disappeared from the main PBS schedule.
Why?
Money is the boring answer. Producing a show with high-end puppets and licensed (or specifically arranged) folk music is expensive. But there’s also the "niche" factor. Music education is a hard sell compared to "STEM" or "Literacy."
By the late 2000s, the "No Child Left Behind" era had trickled down into preschool programming. Networks wanted shows that could prove they were teaching kids how to read or do math. Teaching a child how to recognize the "melody" of a barking dog or the history of a work song didn't fit the data-driven metrics of the time.
It’s a shame, really.
Lomax was doing something nobody else was. He was teaching cultural literacy. He was saying, "Hey, this music belongs to you. It’s your heritage."
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The Legacy of the Hound
Even though the show is over a decade old, its fingerprints are still around. You can find clips on YouTube where parents who were kids in 2008 are now showing it to their own toddlers. There’s a timelessness to folk music that keeps the show from feeling dated in the way something like Dora the Explorer might.
A banjo still sounds like a banjo. A dog still looks like a dog.
The show also served as a bridge. For many kids, this was the first time they heard a fiddle or understood that songs could be passed down from a grandfather to a grandson. It demystified the creative process. It showed that music isn't just something that comes out of an iPhone; it’s something people make with their hands and their breath.
Getting the Most Out of the "Lomax" Archive
If you are a parent or a teacher looking to use the remnants of this show today, don't just look for the full episodes. Look for the individual song segments.
The "Lomax" version of "Bill Grogan’s Goat" or "Buffalo Gals" is still some of the best introductory folk content available for kids. It’s catchy without being grating—a rare feat in children’s media.
Real-World Action Steps for Music Lovers
If you miss the spirit of Lomax, the Hound of Music, or you want to introduce that "folk" energy to the next generation, you don't need a PBS subscription.
- Check out the Smithsonian Folkways archives. This is the real-deal version of what Lomax the dog was doing. They have an incredible "Folkways for Kids" series that features the original recordings Alan Lomax (the human) helped preserve.
- Start a "Song Catching" habit. Ask older family members what songs they sang as kids. Not the ones they heard on the radio—the ones their parents sang to them to get them to sleep. Write them down. That’s ethnomusicology in its simplest form.
- Use the "Call and Response" method. One of the best things the show taught was the "Pass it on" nature of folk. Sing a line, have the kid sing it back. It builds auditory memory and, honestly, it’s just fun.
Lomax might be stuck in the archives of public television, but the idea of the "Hound of Music" is still relevant. We need more shows that aren't afraid to be a little quiet, a little weird, and a lot more melodic.
The train might have stopped running, but the songs are still there, waiting to be tracked down. You just have to know where to listen.