BGS 5+5: Matt Andersen

Posted on by Editor

Artist: Matt Andersen
Hometown: Perth-Andover, New Brunswick, Canada
Latest Album: House to House
Nicknames or Rejected Band Names: No nicknames, none that I’m aware of anyway… No real rejected band names either. The first band I was in was called Stubbyfingers. Loved that name and loved the people I played with.

What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?

It was my second tour with Stuart McLean and The Vinyl Cafe. We were making our way across Canada playing all of our largest cities as part of his annual Christmas tour. As the tour was coming to an end, I was lamenting to Stuart how I really wished that my parents would be able to catch the show, but didn’t see it happening as my dad had never been in a plane, and wasn’t keen to ever be in one. We had two shows coming up in Ottawa at the National Arts Centre, a venue that holds around 2,500 people. After passing the phone to Stuart during a call home to my folks one night before a show, he convinced my dad to get on the flight and come see me play. On show day at soundcheck, we got my mum up on stage to sing a song with the band. After seeing that, Stuart decided he’d surprise mum and get her up to sing during the show. Standing beside my mum in that room in front of a sold-out crowd was, and still is one of my favourite moments. It was a beautiful melding of where I came from and where I was.

What rituals do you have, either in the studio or before a show?

Not so much of a ritual, but more of a headspace I like to get in. I love having a quiet room to myself a good 15 or 20 minutes before a show. No distractions or decisions, just a space of time before I hit the stage. If there is an opener on the bill I’ll pop out to check out a song and see if I can get a sense for the energy in the room. If I’m the opener I’ll stick my head out and have a listen to the crowd as they come in. I can often get a feel for them just by listening to the bustle as they get themselves situated. Other than that, I change my strings before every show. More of a necessity than a ritual, but I sometimes feel like that’s my equivalent of a morning coffee before stepping into the office.

Since food and music go so well together, what is your dream pairing of a meal and a musician?

If I try to enjoy a meal and a performance at the same time I find it takes away from both experiences for me. I’m too caught up in the music to really focus on the food that has been prepared and I end up missing the subtle nuances of a song when my head is down searching for the best approach to my plate. For me, the best pairing would be Bonnie Raitt with just her voice and a guitar in a room that is just slightly too warm and small enough that I could hear her voice as much off the stage as I could through the speakers. A generous pour of a peaty scotch would be the perfect accompaniment. After the show… steak and eggs.

What has been the best advice you’ve received in your career so far?

“Always be the worst musician in your band.” A friend/bandmate told me this years ago when I first started going out on my own. I’m not sure if it’s something that he learned himself, or if it’s a wisdom that was passed down to him. I’ve always surrounded myself with musicians that I have to work to keep up with, musicians that inspire and challenge me. It’s a comfort to be on a stage and know that the only person I need to worry about making a mistake is myself.

What was the first moment that you knew you wanted to be a musician?

Music was something I just grew up with. My grandfather was a big influence, as well as my mother. Many other family members played and folks in the community. Whenever there was a gathering at the house, there was music. It was something I did more to fit in and be a part of the family than anything. I never really thought about being a musician. Music has always been there for me. I do recall however the day that I decided to take a swing playing music full time. I’d been gigging on weekends while working through the week at a factory making frozen dinners and fruit pies. One day they called me into the office and gave me the option of putting on a beard net or shaving my sideburns. I gave them my two weeks’ notice.

Photo Credit: Scott Doubt

WATCH: The Accidentals, “Eastern Standard Time”

Posted on by Editor

Artist: The Accidentals
Hometown: Nashville-by-way-of Michigan
Song: “Eastern Standard Time”
Album: Time Out Session #2
Release Date: March 4, 2022

In Their Words: “This song was written over Zoom with Peter Mulvey, one of my favorite songwriters. A Wisconsinite, Peter is known for riding his bike across the country with his guitar on his back, sharing stories and provocative wisdom in song form. We were introduced to Peter at a show in Michigan and after watching his set we knew someday we would write a song with him. We were really excited when an email came in, asking if we’d be interested in writing a song. We’ve learned in co-writing, the key is to find the things you have in common. We found about five minutes in, that we were both avid nature lovers, and we spent a while talking about everything from trees to birds to fungi. Eventually, we started talking about the UP [Upper Peninsula] — it’s where our home state connects to Peter’s home state.

“The UP is one of the most beautiful places on Earth and we plan a tour there every year when the leaves are changing. We decided to write a song about that. Peter landed the hook, ‘Eastern Standard Time.’ The line ‘Three fires burn from the old bloodlines’ pays homage to the Three Fires Council — the three Native American tribes that comprise much of the Midwest. The descriptions of northern beauty are underscored by thin cracks in the visage: the dangerous oil pipeline threatening our remaining freshwater resources and the long-lasting effects of colonization on Indigenous people. Every beautiful thing comes with baggage. You can’t talk about one without talking about the other. The video was a gift from our friend Elijah Allen. That is him holding/operating the drone while skating across the frozen lake. He’s an avid outdoorsman and really wants people to experience the beauty of where we live in Michigan.” — Sav Buist, The Accidentals

Photo Courtesy of Sideways Media

Fort Worth African American Roots Music Festival Is About Community

Posted on by Editor

To put it simply, the Fort Worth African American Roots Music Festival is expanding awareness about the Black roots of old-time music. It’s also about representation, visibility, and perhaps most of all, community.

“We have been there since the beginning of this music, yet there is little to no representation in the large music festivals that cater to this genre,” says founder Brandi Waller-Pace. “We aim to change that.”

Also known as FWAAMFest, the event focuses on the genres of old-time, jug band, early blues and jazz music that is Black-led and showcases Black performers. Produced by Decolonizing the Music Room, FWAAMFest takes place on Saturday, March 19, at Southside Preservation Hall. Headliners include Jake Blount, Kaia Kater, and Justin Robinson.

Leading up to FWAAMFest, Brandi Waller-Pace shares how a sense of community shaped this one-of-a-kind event.

BGS: What led to the idea of launching a festival focused on African American roots music?

Brandi Waller-Pace: I started playing old-time music myself by finding the banjo not terribly long ago. Maybe five years ago is when I really turned my attention toward the instrument and began to play, and really quickly connected with one of the few people in my community who plays clawhammer. He convinced me to sing and play guitar in a string band with him and another member. So, I got my chops up and learned a lot and gradually learned a lot about the history.

Finding out how deeply embedded Blackness and Black history – the history of my own ancestors – was, in the case of the banjo and the tradition surrounding the music, felt really affirming to me. Before long I began to meet other Black folks who were deeply involved in the community and the history. We started to connect, and those circles grew.

I remember hearing about the Black Banjo Gathering before I had gotten into the music at all, and not really knowing its significance until later. And then I attended another event that Dr. Dena Jennings, at her farm in Orange, Virginia, called the Affrolachian On-Time Music Gathering — or “The Thang.” It was really the first time I was around a significant amount of Black folks who were engaged in roots music, talking about the history and just engaging with one another.

It wasn’t an exclusively Black event, but it was really the first time I was around a significant amount of Black folks who were engaged in roots music, talking about the history and just engaging with one another. It was really beautiful. It planted a seed, I think. As I engaged more in the community, there were discussions about “How do we work on inclusion in existing spaces? When is it time to create new spaces?” I considered, “You know, I could create something new.” I tend to operate that way. I’ll engage in existing spaces and systems but I love the idea of creating something new. And so I said, “I could do a festival.”

You cover multiple old-time music styles at this festival. How did you curate the lineup?

I have to be honest. I’ve just been really fortunate to know so many wonderful musicians, and to become acquainted with some, and to develop deep friendships with others. And so, the lineup came from asking, “What’s the community that I’m finding myself in? And who are the people that I know about that I don’t get to see as often but are amazing musicians?” As this event grows, I hope to engage with people further and further from my close circle while still making sure to have space for those that were so important to starting my journey into this music and learning the history of it.

A festival like this will bring visibility to the Black roots of old-time music. Why is that important to you?

In part, the visibility is connected to my own journey of discovery and finding myself, and what my Blackness means to me. The Black roots of old-time music are such a huge part of US culture. Enslaved Africans materially and economically and physically and culturally built so much of what we define as US culture.

In my work in music education, and in my scholarly work, and in my clinician work, that is what is so important to me – centering narratives that are so very important but are not broadly treated as such. It makes me happy to think of the idea of Black folks on a broader scale looking at these musical forms and seeing Black identity within that and having that engagement. It brings it back full circle to times when these traditions were seen as common in Black spaces.

What is the mission behind your nonprofit, Decolonizing the Music Room?

The mission of Decolonizing the Music Room is to center Black, Brown, Indigenous, and Asian voices, knowledge, and experiences in music education and related fields. So, we do this with things like FWAAMFest or with presenting to educators and other organizations, or by creating content that puts these narratives out there. We’re engaging with music education and other communities across disciplines to really connect to others and get this work out there as much as possible.

It’s a lot of work to launch a festival, but what have you enjoyed the most about creating this event?

You’re right, it is an immense amount of work to launch a festival, but what has brought me the most joy is doing it with friends. These are not just people I admire, experts in their field, genius performers, scholars, and community activists. They are actual people I know in real life and I still want to pinch myself when I think about the fact that this is actually happening with these people, because I feel like so much of a newbie. Being able to do this has been really amazing.

The second thing has been that it’s been in my community. I taught in public schools here. I taught music, wrote curriculum, and engaged in community advocacy work. I’ve been down here for 13 years now. I feel like I have roots here. I have children who go to school here. I have colleagues that I’ve worked with. I’m an artist in the community. For me personally, I wanted it to be something that feeds diversity into the community where I live, where I’ve taught, and where I’m raising my children. It’s wonderful to be able to do that.

For those music fans coming to check it out, what do you hope will take away from the experience?

I want people to come and understand that this music is Black music. Blackness is all throughout. This music is community music. This music is music that can bring people together, and that one can engage in. One of the things that I love most about learning old-time music is that there’s so much nuance and there are complicated things that you can learn, but also the level of accessibility. It didn’t take me long to be able to engage in a way that felt meaningful for me, even though the way I can play now is light years from the way I could play when I just started.

Seeing all that Blackness represented and understanding the connection. Seeing that it can be participatory and then knowing something like that is in Fort Worth. They’re gonna take away, “I gotta come back to Fort Worth every March because I have to be in this festival.” The folks in the community are gonna say, “You know what? Maybe I want to learn the banjo.” That is something I can do here. We can create more musical community here.

BGS Q&A: The Infamous Stringdusters’ Andy Falco and Andy Hall Go ‘Toward the Fray’

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It makes some sense that you can’t really pin The Infamous Stringdusters down to a single place – you’ll find members in Colorado, North Carolina and Long Island, New York – because they are always on the move. Together since 2006, they have charted a sprawling course onstage and also through a dozen albums.

This year finds them on the road once again, showing off their 12th and newest album Toward the Fray, which has the most overtly socio-political songs they’ve ever put out into the world. In the midst of their touring schedule, they’ll also attend the Grammy Awards to see if last year’s A Tribute to Bill Monroe wins best bluegrass album. It would be their second time winning that category after hitting paydirt with 2017’s Laws of Gravity.

We caught up with the Stringdusters for a series of three conversations on the road (Zooming in from Louisville, Kentucky, Birmingham, Alabama, and Atlanta). Here is part one with guitarist Andy Falco and Dobroist Andy Hall.

BGS: Since you were quarantined for much of 2020 and 2021, everyone was doing their songwriting separately rather than together. Is that typical for the Stringdusters’ process?

Andy Falco: Typically we do write separately, and pre-production is when we come together. We’ll do a show-and-tell with songs, just playing guitars, and we might end up with 25 songs from that and start narrowing it down. It had to happen quicker this time once we got together, but there was something great about that, actually. Sometimes that initial spark of instinct will carry you through if you have to rely on it. We have instincts as a band, after putting in the 10,000 hours, and we did not have time to do any deep dives on changing things around. So we went more with instinct. There’s something special with this record.

Andy Hall: It is a little scary to show off your songs to everybody that first time, but it’s exciting, too. You’re presenting your song for judgment, no way around it. It’s up for review and interpretation, the five of us sitting around playing acoustic guitars, and it’s not like there’s clapping at the end of it.

Falco: Sometimes you’re laughed out of the room.

Hall: Sometimes! What you hope is for everyone to say, “That was cool.” Or a quiet, “Yeah, nice.” It can be hard for me to know when I’m writing a song if it will work with the band. It sometimes surprises me what the band will like as a whole, which makes it exciting and interesting. I continue to be surprised in a good way, and I trust the band. Whatever the band picks tends to work well even if it’s not totally understood at first.

Falco: Sometimes what happens is it takes a couple of records for everyone to get on-board with a song. The band evolves and sometimes songs that don’t jibe at first, we’ll come back to them and they work. You never know.

Hall: It can be hard to say why it’s like that sometimes. One record, a song might not make the cut and the next, everyone is super-stoked about it. It’s all about the band’s evolution, and current mood. That’s what’s cool about the get-together pre-production part of the process. That’s where you have to have trust, and it gets easier as we get older. My trust in the band’s taste grows as time goes on.

As befits the Stringdusters’ most political record to date, it’s got quite a dystopian cover illustration.

Hall: It was shocking initially, but that’s kind of the idea — for it to be shocking and striking. Uncomfortable, that sort of vibe. I like doing things that might not fit in bluegrass, which is part of the reason why I’m covered in tattoos. I like things that are kind of metal, so doing something that’s not common in bluegrass really excites me. That part of it spoke to me. Bluegrass covers are generally middle-of-the-road. I like that we maybe ruffled some feathers.

Falco: When that cover was first floated, I was honestly not sure about it. Then after I sat with it for a while, it made sense. It was Andy Hall’s vision to put that together. We’re talking about things that are uncomfortable, and that suits the overall message of the record, to approach uncomfortable subjects. That’s what the song “Toward the Fray” is all about for me. It was inspired by the George Floyd situation and I wanted to say it’s not enough to denounce that, you actually have to engage with it. That’s where the cover does what it’s supposed to do, and I love that it’s gotten more comments than any other cover we’ve ever done.

Given the Stringdusters’ stature in progressive bluegrass, going straight-ahead old-school with last year’s Bill Monroe tribute seemed unexpected.

Falco: We talked about that a lot in the past, that we should do a traditional bluegrass record at some point. But every time we went into the studio, we had stacks of our own songs to do. Then when we were grounded at home during the pandemic, trying to figure out things to do, we were able to record remotely. The first thing we did was the Christmas record and then it was, “Let’s do that bluegrass record, a Bill Monroe tribute.” It was all done remotely. Neither one was reinventing the wheel, it was playing music we’ve played a lot over the years. Everybody knows their role and we were able to do that, as opposed to original Stringdusters music, where we have to be together for the improvisational elements.

Hall: To me, this was long overdue. The first bluegrass I ever owned was a Bill Monroe box set, so it’s the first bluegrass I remember hearing. I played with Earl Scruggs, Jeremy Garrett played with Bobby Osborne. We all cut our teeth with traditional bluegrass. It’s what informed us musically.

Congratulations on another Grammy nomination. Will you go to the ceremonies in Las Vegas?

Falco: Oh, yeah!

What was it like to win one?

Falco: I remember sitting in a row with the guys and you could feel everybody’s seat shaking. Then when we won, it was an amazing, incredible moment. It was an honor, and everything you’d think it would be. Plus it was at Madison Square Garden in New York, which was extra-special for me because it was like being at home. It was really great to share that moment together.

Did winning a Grammy change anything for you?

Hall: It helps. I don’t know how, but it seems like it does. People talk about it, yeah, and it gives you a moment of validation. There’s a lot of uncertainty in the music business, a lot of time spent wondering if something works – are we doing the right thing? What about the future? But winning a Grammy was just a moment of feeling like what you do is resonating. It’s a nice spark, something that goes right and keeps you rocking. Still, you just go right back to work. But that moment of recognition and success sure helps put some gas in the tank.

How do you manage the long-distance relationship of being in a band but living all over the country?

Falco: Living around the country, it’s important to stay connected creatively. So the holiday and Bill Monroe records served a purpose mentally. We weren’t just sitting on our hands waiting out the pandemic, we were creating during that time, which was important for our mental health. I was mixing at my house and when parts would come in, I’d put them into the track. What started with a rhythm guitar click track morphed into the Stringdusters sound. Those moments felt like we were making music together, and we were, just in a different way.

Given that you’re putting some definite socio-political content out with “Toward the Fray,” do people come around after shows wanting to argue?

Hall: Not too much. It’s presented in such a way that it’s all in context for people interested in the band and our music and what we have to say. Now if we were shoving messages down everybody’s throat on social media every day, I’m sure there would be more arguments happening. But that’s not how conversation should happen. Our job is to write songs expressing our feelings and put them out there, create work based on how we feel and what we think. That’s what we’ve done with this album and there’s not been a lot of pushback. What is there to argue about? It’s what we’re feeling, are people going to say no, it’s not? It is what it is. I hate arguing on social media, which never helps. Just create the art and move along.

Falco: As long as it’s genuine, you can say whatever you want about the feelings you’re putting out there, and then it’s all fair game. It just needs to be genuine because that’s the only way to write songs and play music.

Want to win tickets to see the Infamous Stringdusters at the Echoplex in Los Angeles? Enter our ticket giveaway.

Photo Credit: Jay Strausser Visuals

Carolina Calling, Durham: Art and Community in the Bull City

Posted on by Shelby Williamson

Durham, North Carolina – a city that blossomed out of the tobacco industry and was originally fueled by manufacturing – has gone through many phases. Today its factories house performing arts centers and bougie lofts, but this place has just as long and varied a musical history going back a century or more. Then and now, it’s been a center for jazz, hip-hop, Americana country-rock and most of all, Piedmont blues.

LISTEN: APPLE • SPOTIFY • STITCHER • AMAZON • MP3
 

Back when Durham was becoming known as the Bull City, its soundtrack was Piedmont blues as played by giants like Blind Boy Fuller, Reverend Gary Davis, Sonny Terry and Brownie McGhee. In the 1920s and ‘30s, factory workers made up the audience for blues and other developing styles of music. Now, tech workers and college students flock to the city’s many venues.

It’s a long way from the city’s early days, but also still rife with change; battles over segregation have evolved into disputes over gentrification. But what hasn’t changed is that it remains a great music town, one that draws both artists and fans alike.

In this episode, we explore the phases of Durham’s past, present and future with guests who call it home, like Bluegrass Hall of Famer Alice Gerrard, country singer Rissi Palmer, Hiss Golden Messenger’s MC Taylor, Grammy-nominated jazz vocalist Nnenna Freelon, and more.

Subscribe to Carolina Calling on any and all podcast platforms to follow along as we journey across the Old North State, visiting towns like Wilmington, Greensboro, Shelby, and Asheville.

BGS is proud to produce Carolina Calling in partnership with Come Hear NC, a campaign from the North Carolina Department of Natural & Cultural Resources designed to celebrate North Carolinians’ contribution to the canon of American music.

Photo courtesy of Discover Durham

BGS Top 50 Moments: A Tribute to Jerry Garcia

Posted on by Amy Reitnouer

 

If my words did glow with the gold of sunshine
And my tunes were played on the harp unstrung
Would you hear my voice come through the music?
Would you hold it near as it were your own?

On a warm spring evening in Los Angeles, a revered mix of musicians gathered to lift up the legacy of Jerry Garcia and “to hold the music near as it were their own.”  JUBILEE: A Celebration of Jerry Garcia was a very special, one night only benefit concert paying tribute to his 75th birthday, produced by BGS, Goldenvoice, and the Garcia Family.

With an all-star lineup that included the likes of Hiss Golden Messenger, Billy Strings, Molly Tuttle, Margo Price, Stephen Malkmus, Chris Funk, Sam Bush, David Hidalgo (Los Lobos), Jamie Drake, Josh Ritter, and Amos Lee, supported by a house band lead by Benmont Tench and Mike Campbell (of Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers) and Sean and Sara Watkins (of Nickel Creek and Watkins Family Hour), the evening was a love letter to the man whose influence has continued to reach far beyond the confines of the Dead.

Relive some of the amazing collaborations in the photo gallery below:

Photo Credit: Elli Lauren

WATCH: The Jason Lee McKinney Band, “Without End”

Posted on by Editor

Artist: The Jason Lee McKinney Band
Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee
Song: “Without End”
Album: One Last Thing
Release Date: March 18, 2022
Label: Bonfire Records

In Their Words: “Lyrically, ‘Without End’ is inspired by a quote from 13th century theologian St. Bonaventure. Bonaventure said, ‘By God’s power, presence, and essence, God is the One whose center is everywhere and whose circumference is nowhere. God exists uncircumscribed in everything.’ This song is super dense lyrically in philosophical references and concepts. The lyrics reference Thomas Aquinas, John Duns Scottus, Augustine of Hippo, and even Rich Mullins. The lyrical thickness is why we decided not to put any other instruments on the song. This song is the only truly acoustic song on the album. To put any other instruments on this song would only cloud the message and muddy the waters.” — Jason Lee McKinney

Photo credit: Sean Von Tagen

WATCH: Lisa Morales, “Flyin’ and Cryin'”

Posted on by Editor

Artist: Lisa Morales
Honmetown: Tucson, Arizona
Song: “Flyin’ and Cryin'”
Album: Rain In the Desert
Release Date: March 11, 2022
Label: Zaino Records

In Their Words: “Making this video was just hanging with the boys, sharing stories, laughs, and music. Hayes Carll is a dear friend; we both used to live in the Houston area and I produced his first album, Flowers and Liquor. I introduced him to Texas audiences early on.” — Lisa Morales

“With her talent and her generosity Lisa Morales changed the trajectory of my life. I heard Lisa a few hours before I actually saw her. The Sisters Morales show in Galveston, Texas, was sold out so I sat on the sidewalk and listened to them perform through the windows. Afterwards — when I could finally squeeze into the club — we were introduced by the club owner. When she heard that I was a singer-songwriter, Lisa offered to let me open the next time they came through town. I happily accepted. Eventually she offered more shows across the state. These were my first opportunities to travel for music and to play in front of audiences who had bought a ticket to listen and witness a show. It was all game-changing for me. Some time later Lisa offered to produce my first record and that offer changed the trajectory of my life. I’ll always be grateful to her for her kindness, wisdom, and mentorship.” — Hayes Carll

“I’ve known Lisa for years. When she asked if I’d find a harmony part to sing on a track for a new album, I couldn’t find a suitable part. So I took the liberty of assuming she wouldn’t mind if I wrote a few lines that would make the song a duet. She didn’t bat an eye, even gave me a songwriting credit. At least I think she did. What’s not to love about Lisa Morales?” — Rodney Crowell

“I’ve been a fan of Lisa Morales for such a long time. It was such a treat to get be in this video of this very fine song that she and Rodney wrote. It was a joy to get to spend some time with her, Rodney, and Hayes, and be in their presence!” — Jim Lauderdale

What Del McCoury and Ronnie McCoury Took From Monroe, Flux, and the Dawg

Posted on by Editor

Del McCoury is a legend many times over. A snapshot from any period of his life would be enough to earn him a place in the history books. From his time playing with Bill Monroe in the early ‘60s to fronting his own band with his sons Rob and Ronnie McCoury, Del’s career is a triumph. The Del McCoury Band is the most-awarded band in IBMA history, and Del has been honored with a Grammy Award, induction into the Bluegrass Hall of Fame, and a lifetime achievement award from the National Endowment for the Arts.

Since moving to Nashville in the early ’90s, The Del McCoury Band has recorded more albums than they can remember. (Literally. I asked them and they couldn’t remember. It approaches near two dozen.) Their latest album, Almost Proud, furthers their musical legacy. In a visit with The Bluegrass Situation, Del McCoury and Ronnie McCoury talk about recording it during the pandemic, digging through a big box of submissions for material, and learning a trick from Jerry Douglas that they still use to this day.

BGS: Del, you’ve fronted a band for many decades and this version with your sons has been around since the ’90s. How has the process of picking the material and arranging it changed over that course of time?

Del: Well, I’ll tell you, we used to do a lot of prep before we went in the studio, years ago when it was just me and the band. But now the boys have their own band and they’re a lot busier now. For the last several records, I just kind of picked the material and I’ll try to find the right key and tempo and all those things. And we won’t even have a rehearsal or anything until we get in the studio. We just mainly do all of the hard work in the studio after we’re in there.

I’ve always been in awe of how this band not only picks great material but also plays it in a way that makes it unique and often an instant bluegrass classic, no matter the original genre. What goes into how you pick material?

Ronnie: I still don’t know what Dad’s going to like. I found “1952 Vincent Black Lightning” through a guy named Dick Bowden. He gave me a tape of it after the band had played a show. It was just Richard Thompson playing solo guitar on a radio show. Dick said he thought it’d be a good song to cover and as soon as I heard it and the fingerstyle guitar I thought, “Wow, this could be good.” Well, I took it to Dad, and he passed on it for the record we were making. But then the next record, he pulled it out and said, “You know, I’ve been listening and I think that would make a pretty good song.” So, like I said, I don’t know what’s going to hit him and when it will.

But with my dad, it doesn’t matter what he plays or sings. Number one, it’s going to have strong guitar rhythm. Number two, it’s going to be his voice. Through the years, I figured he can sing about anything. For example, when he played with the Preservation Hall Jazz Band, everybody was like, “I wonder how this is going to work.” Well, he just opens his mouth and does what he does, and it is what it is, and it’s great! People will pigeonhole others for their style of singing. My dad’s got a high lonesome sound, but it always seems to work.

My dad taught us how to have that feel and the elements of first generation bluegrass. The drive, how to play fast and when you need to, how not to overplay, and how to back up behind a singer, things like that. People don’t always have a teacher that really knows that stuff, so it sometimes doesn’t come easily or at all. We were just lucky to have this guy who was so well-rounded. A great guitar player but a banjo player first and such a good singer. He can sing any part, and he loves to sing bass, too.

Those elements are all very present in this band for sure. The fiddle is a very lyrical instrument to begin with but I’ve always particularly considered Ronnie’s mandolin playing and Rob’s banjo playing to be a really interesting combination of melodic/lyrical and still very traditional sounding.

Del: Yeah, I know what you mean. They don’t strictly depend on melodic notes to do something, but they make their style work around the melody that they’re trying to play. They do that. They try to keep it fairly simple.

It’s very masterful, the subtlety of all of it. I imagine you had a hand in guiding them when they were younger.

Del: I tell you, I never even thought about my sons playing music. I don’t know why I didn’t, but I just didn’t. Maybe it’s because when I was learning to play, I had a lot of cousins. They’d hear me and they’d want to learn to play, and I’d show them something. And then, of course, next week they’d be into baseball or something else. They forgot about music that quick. And I guess I thought they might also lose interest in this music. But they never did. Rob started playing banjo when he’s about 9. Of course, I started playing guitar when I was 9, too. My older brother taught me the chords. But I was not really all that interested in playing until I heard Earl Scruggs. I was about 11 then. And that really switched something up in my brain.

But my boys, they were always around music. Ronnie played violin in school when he was really young, but he also was in Little League and he was their star pitcher. And you know what happened? His violin teacher told me, “He’s really doing good on this.” And I said, “Really?” She said, “Yeah, he learned so fast.” Well, it comes to where there is going to be a recital in school at the same time there’s going to be a big Little League baseball game. And he was supposed to be in both of them. He chose the baseball game. And, oh, his teacher called! She was so disheartened because he was one of her finest students. But he kind of forgot about music just for a little while.

And I took him with me to New York City. I was playing a show and Bill Monroe was one of the acts there. It was during Ronnie’s school vacation between Christmas and New Year’s so I brought him with me. Bill took an interest in Ronnie. He put his hat on him and he put his mandolin in his lap and he said, “Now you play me something on this mandolin.” I didn’t think nothing about it at the time. But when we got back home, Ronnie asked if he could have this old mandolin I carried around on the bus. And once Ronnie got that mandolin, he never laid it down.

Well, now those guys, when they did start learning to play on their own, I could hear them in my spare time—I was pretty busy in those days. And I hear them playing and I could tell they were missing a note here and there and I’d just tell them where to find it and then let them go on their own. I just didn’t bother them much. Boy, they learned fast.

That’s great. I think all of that is a big part of the sound but there’s something about the arrangements that has always made you all stand out, I think.

Ronnie: As far as arranging things, when we got to Nashville and did that first record, Jerry Douglas produced it and one of the first things that we did still sticks with me. I wound up singing “A Deeper Shade of Blue.” Flux is the one that gave us the beginning and end of it, this lick. And I was like, “Oh, wow, we can put a lick on tunes.” I was just so straight-ahead that I had never even thought to do that. I credit Flux with opening my ears to that because he’s so musical.

That is interesting because that kind of thing is usually associated with pop-adjacent music. Your music is so traditional but having those hooks does make the songs stick in your mind.

Ronnie: It probably also comes from listening to all kinds of music. I’m a product of the ‘80s. When I was in school I was hearing all of the rock and newer stuff that was being played on the radio. I never gravitated to it as much as I probably did to Southern rock. We loved the twin guitars of the Allman Brothers. What’s interesting is that those guys were listening to this stuff. Dickey Betts was a bluegrass fan and I remember he and Vassar had a duet thing. They used to play together in Florida.

That makes sense. There’s a full-circle element there as well. The Allman Brothers are sort of the prototypical jam band and now you guys are playing shows with Greensky, The String Cheese Incident, Railroad Earth, etc.

Ronnie: You’re right about that. Part of the reason we got into that world we’re in is that there’s already a Del McCoury Band, and we wanted to do something different, but we couldn’t call it the “Del-less McCoury Band.” So we had to do something that was different sounding. When I grew up I had no idea that mandolin players were doing anything but what Bill Monroe did. I was around 15 years old when the Dawg came out with that first record, the David Grisman Quintet album with Tony Rice on it.

The arrangements and playing on there were really influential and all that stuff squeaks into your music. You’re a product of what you hear, I guess. Those guys changed so much. There’s the guys that don’t get credit on the banjo like Bobby Thompson and then the next guy was Bill Keith. From Bill Keith comes [Tony] Trischka and Béla [Fleck], and it just moves on. But the Dawg, man, he was kind of the first one to take the Monroe and Wakefield stuff and stir it up like that. I’m a big proponent for him to be in the Hall of Fame.

The ensemble abilities of this group are some of the best in the business. Having so much family in the band lends itself to that, but Jason Carter and now Alan Bartram have been in the band so long I imagine that you all can anticipate what each other will do next.

Del: That’s true. It makes it easier, because I think we all kind of think alike and are satisfied in what we’re doing. And I’ll tell you something, I think it helps keep them interested. Like on live shows, we never have a set list, and they never know what’s coming next. When we get on stage, we just go up there and do a few tunes. I like to introduce each member of the band. I’ll let them tune or choose a song to sing after I get the four of them introduced. Then a lot of times we just start doing requests from the audience, and all through the set, we’ll try to work in things that we just recorded or had released, whatever. But for the most part, we’re doing requests from the audience. They know that when they go up on stage, they don’t know what’s happening next, and I don’t either, but that’s kind of the fun of it.

You are a link to those older traditions, and those were a lot more about performing than making records and stuff. It seems to me that performing and being an entertainer is what’s important to you.

Del: You know, I think it probably is because that’s what you do most. You’re never in a studio that long but before the pandemic we’d be out every week doing a show. I like talking to the audience. I think they entertain me more than I entertain them. For example, I ask them questions, like, “What would you like to hear next?” And what entertains me is they’ll request a song, but they get one word wrong or two in the title of the song.

For instance, we get a lot of requests for “1952 Vincent Black Lightning,” and what people have problems with is the year. So, I say back to them, “Well, I don’t know that song.” And then it gets real quiet and they’ll think, “Well, I know he knows that song because he’s got it on a record.” I let them wonder for a little bit before I’ll say, “Well, now, look, I know a song entitled ‘1952 Vincent Black Lightning,’” and then they’re relieved and I’ll play it for them. But just little things like that. They’re so funny. People are funny if you listen to them. They will entertain you.

You guys have put out so many records. Is there anything that makes this one stand out or feel special to you?

Ronnie: Well, probably the fact that during a pandemic, my dad worked and he sat down and listened to like 150 songs or something. He didn’t just rest on his laurels. We got him a tape recorder, a nicer one, that he could record his ideas on because he felt more comfortable working with a tape machine.

Del: All through the years, people have sent or given me songs while we were on the road. A lot of the time, I just throw them in a box and say, “Well, when I get time, I’ll listen to them, see what they are.” So, when this pandemic hit that spring, I thought, “Wow, I’ll get all those things out and listen to them.” And then I picked out certain songs and I started to work on them.

Ronnie: During this time, we’re wearing masks and sitting outside doing our radio show six feet apart and not going in the house. Everybody’s worried about my parents so we were careful. But he worked on this stuff and he wrote some songs. So, what’s special to me are just good memories, really. Just being able to be in a studio with Dad in the middle of a pandemic and getting it done and not having so much wasted time. … The hardest thing through the pandemic for me to see, besides the tragedies where people lost their lives to this stuff, was seeing my dad in his golden years, not being able to do what he wanted to do, which is to travel and play for the people. He knocks us all out with how he can play and sing at this age.

Yeah, it’s pretty amazing.

Ronnie: He knocks me out. I can’t get over it. Like I said, it was amazing to be able to go in and do this record through all this and that his health is still with him. So I’m just proud of that. “Almost Proud,” you could say, ha ha.

“Almost Proud,” there you go.

Photo Credit: Daniel Jackson

The Show On The Road – St. Paul and the Broken Bones

Posted on by Shelby Williamson

This week, we bring you a conversation with Birmingham, Alabama’s Paul Janeway, frontman of the storied soul and art-pop experimenters St. Paul & The Broken Bones.


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While many first learned of Paul as the bespectacled former bank teller and accounting student who went from playing tiny clubs around the south to stalking stages from Red Rocks to Coachella in resplendent sequined robes, howling like a reincarnation of Otis Redding or Wilson Pickett with a bold brass section behind him, it really almost never happened at all. A decade ago, Paul made a throwback soul EP with his longtime collaborator Jesse Phillips and friends as a last hurrah before signing off from the dispiriting quest of getting folks to pay attention to his songs as he tilted towards his thirties. But then the wheels started turning. Folks started packing their shows at the Bottle Tree Cafe (RIP) in Birmingham. Ben Tanner of fellow rising star southerners Alabama Shakes helped Paul make the more polished and kinetic EP Half The City in 2014, and with just a Bandcamp release to start, it began selling like crazy. Like, more than most pop records; one-hundred, then two-hundred-thousand copies. Late night shows and world tours and TV placements and opening slots for The Rolling Stones beckoned. The press couldn’t stop asking: how could a guy like this sing like THAT? Paul was suddenly an unlikely star on the burgeoning Americana circuit. Wells Fargo would have to find another guy.

But as Paul discusses throughout our talk, just creating a soul and R&B revival sound was never his plan. He loves losing himself in art museums, exploring Greek myths and diving into deep space travel, and with more daring follow up records Sea Of Noise (2016) and Young Sick Camellia (2018) creating danceable synth-funk bops like “Flow With It (You Got Me)” and “Apollo” – which also have dark underbellies if you listen closely – the group has become much harder to place, in the best way possible.

This year’s release Alien Coast shows Paul and his crack team of collaborators Jesse Phillips (bass), Browan Lollar (guitar), Kevin Leon (drums), Al Gamble (keyboards), Allen Branstetter (trumpet), Chad Fisher (trombone), and Amari Ansari (saxophone), pushing the envelope even further. The ominous narrator in “Bermejo And The Devil” sets the scene for a dreamy trip into the jagged edges of ancient paintings, intergalactic storms and long lost stories – with quieter standouts like “Popcorn Ceiling” grounding the record in themes much more earthbound – like the feeling of isolation Paul felt after traveling the world from stage to stage and lonely hotel room to hotel room, wringing himself out each night before tireless audiences.