WATCH: Matt Rollings, “Wade in the Water” (Featuring The War and Treaty & The Blind Boys of Alabama)

Artist: Matt Rollings
Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee
Song: “Wade in the Water” (Featuring The War and Treaty and The Blind Boys of Alabama)
Album: Matt Rollings Mosaic
Release Date: August 14, 2020
Label: Dualtone Records

In Their Words: “Michael and Tanya [of The War and Treaty] and I had decided to record ‘Take Me to the Mardi Gras,’ the Paul Simon classic, for the record. We spent a few hours — Michael, Tanya, Jay Bellerose and I — and wound up with an amazing take of the song and I was thrilled. After listening to the playback of ‘Take Me to the Mardi Gras,’ I spontaneously asked if they’d be willing to try something else. I had been nursing an idea about the old spiritual, ‘Wade in the Water.’ My first real jazz piano influence, Ramsey Lewis, recorded it on his 1966 album of the same name, and I’ve always loved it. After hearing what Michael and Tanya had done with the Paul Simon song, I was dying to hear them sing it.

“I printed the lyrics out and we went for it. This is the first and only take we did of the song. It was so good that we didn’t even try it a second time. After adding acoustic bass, it still didn’t feel quite complete… some background vocals were needed. I thought, ‘Who would the ultimate singer(s) be for this?’ It occurred to me that a real-deal gospel quartet would be perfect and The Blind Boys of Alabama would be the ideal candidate. Somehow I was able to catch them while they were in Muscle Shoals, recording on another project. So I drove down there from Nashville on the appointed day and recorded them on the track. They brought just the magic that was needed. The way they blended with Michael and Tanya is amazing… like they were in the same room singing together. After that, the song was done.” — Matt Rollings


Photo credit: Michael Wilson

BGS 5+5: Twisted Pine

Artist: Twisted Pine
Hometown: Boston, Massachusetts
Latest album: Right Now (August 14, 2020)
Personal nicknames: Kathleen Parks is KP or Kat. Dan Bui is Fireball or Bu Nasty. Anh Phung is Lil Phungus. Chris Sartori is Moose.

What other art forms — literature, film, dance, painting, etc — inform your music?

I would definitely say dance has had a big influence on how I hear, feel, and listen to music. I started out as an Irish dancer before I picked up the violin and I studied dance up until the year before I had to pick what kind of art school I would apply for. Would I study music or dance? I guess you can figure out the outcome, but I’m thankful to have studied it for so long because it definitely has influenced my groove, and feel. Anh is a great dancer too! Who knows, maybe one of these days we’ll work up some moves for a TWP set! — Kat

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

I grew up with classical music lessons: first on piano and then violin. I wasn’t super passionate about it, but I didn’t hate it either. One Saturday, I happened to see Sam Bush playing on PBS, and knew I wanted a mandolin. As soon as I got it, a Fender A-Style with a pickup, a couple of friends came over with drums and electric bass. We jammed for hours and that’s when I knew I wanted to be a musician. — Dan

What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?

There’s obviously too many to choose from but maybe one of the more ridiculous ones was a 5 minute appearance in a choir singing “B*tches Ain’t Sh*t” by Dr. Dre on the “Just for a Laughs” live television special, “XXX: The Nasty Show,” accompanied by Ben Folds and hosted by Bob Saget. What a hoot! — Anh

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

I would take Prince to the Highland Kitchen in Somerville (Mass.) for brunch. We have a shared passion for breakfast; I wonder what he would think about their pancakes (they are the best ever). — Chris

Which elements of nature do you spend the most time with and how do those impact your work?

Growing up in New York’s Hudson Valley I had pretty direct access to little mountains, trails, and the Hudson River. I always feel grounded after going for a hike, and being able to view a sunset, and a clear night sky really seems to impact my lyrics and how I get musically inspired. What I love most is when the band can stay in a cabin during tour, I feel cozy and comfy and I love being able to hear the sound of crickets nearby. That’s the stuff! — Kat


Photo credit: Joanna Chattman

LISTEN: Golden Shoals, “Old Buffalo”

Artist: Golden Shoals
Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee
Song: “Old Buffalo”
Album: Golden Shoals
Release Date: August 7, 2020
Label: Self-released, distributed by Free Dirt

In Their Words: “This one fits in a genre I like to call Cowboy Existentialism. You’ve got imagery like buffalo, coyotes, hobos, and trains. The cheerful mood of the song belies themes of economic inequality, and the burden of worldly possessions, summed up in lines like ‘it’s mighty hard to catch your meal when you ain’t had enough to eat.’ The melodies and cadences of this song are derived, intentionally or not, from old American fiddle tunes like ‘Roll Boys Roll’ and ‘Booth Shot Lincoln.’

“I originally wrote it with clawhammer banjo as the accompaniment, but I had really been searching for a song to do with two guitars as a faster breakdown to showcase the style of flatpicking I love to do. We’re really emulating the two-guitar style of Norman and Nancy Blake here. They have always been a major influence on us. Norman is one of my favorite guitar players, along with Doc Watson and Michael Daves. I’m not a big fan of the more modern bluegrass guitar players; I gravitate toward those whose playing is more rooted in the old-time square dance fiddle style — very rhythmic, very driving, a little dirty.

“Playing a ’33 Gibson L-00 helps me get the sound I want too. Nothing like the growl a well-loved Gibson has to it. This guitar also fits my body better. I’m not a large person, and although I love dreadnaughts, a 00 body size is way more comfortable for me.” — Mark Kilianski, Golden Shoals


Photo credit: Kyle Wolff

LISTEN: Bettye LaVette, “Blues for the Weepers”

Artist: Bettye LaVette
Hometown: Detroit, Michigan; now lives in West Orange, New Jersey
Song: “Blues for the Weepers” (originally sung by Della Reese in 1965)
Album: Blackbirds
Release Date: August 28, 2020
Label: Verve Records

In Their Words: “I’ve performed at a lot of places. I’ve sung at all types of venues, but I’ve also sung at a bingo game and a Chinese restaurant and performed for all types of people. But I’ve been one of the weeping ones because of the career and ups and downs. But I’m still here.” — Bettye LaVette


Photo credit: Joseph A. Rosen

The String – Joshua Ray Walker

Reaction to Joshua Ray Walker’s debut album was as strong and swift as any to come along in country music and Texas songwriting in quite a while. But the Dallas native had been working stages nightly for ten years by the time the world paid attention.


LISTEN: APPLE PODCASTS

He was ready to follow up fast and he did so to great acclaim on 2020’s Glad You Made It. This self-assured, thoughtful artist has a lot to say.

Also in the hour, we meet Australian emigre to Nashville Emma Swift, whose new collection of Bob Dylan covers is quite special.

Bluegrass Memoirs: Scruggs Pegs & Earl’s Hooks

Let’s begin with a 45 RPM record I played banjo on. 

In July 1964, I was hired by the Rick Sutherlin Orchestra to play banjo for one night at the Monroe County Fair in Bloomington, Indiana. They needed a banjo player, because they were going to back up the fair’s featured music that night, the famous barbershop quartet, The Buffalo Bills

The Rick Sutherlin Orchestra was a big band based in Bloomington. Its leader Sutherlin, from a local family, was not a great musician. I remember him at the fair waving his baton at the front of the stage while one of the sidemen did the countdowns before each tune. I’m pretty certain I got the gig because Tom Hensley, who’d played bass in our bluegrass band, the Pigeon Hill Boys, played piano for the orchestra. They needed a banjo; he suggested my name. Hensley, like most of the other members of the big band, was at the Indiana University School of Music. He recently retired after over 40 years as Neil Diamond’s pianist.

A banjo solo was needed for the show, so one of the other orchestra members, trombonist Gary Potter, came to consult with me. Potter and I had been classmates at Oberlin College, playing in Dick Sudhalter’s jazz band in 1960. The following year we had roomed in the same boarding house, and he’d played bass with our campus bluegrass band, The Plum Creek Boys. Now he was at the start of a long career teaching music, principally at IU’s Jacobs School of Music. 

We decided on Bob Dylan’s “Don’t Think Twice,” a contemporary folk hit. I’d been playing it with David Satterfield in our Bloomington bluegrass band. Dave, an IU Grad student from Columbus, Indiana, had lived in Greenwich Village a few years before and done some singing with Dylan at that time. This song was in his repertoire.

I loaned Gary a copy of Sing Out! that had Dylan’s words and music so he could work on the arrangement. At this point he suggested inserting the sound of the Scruggs pegs, the musical hook in Flatt & Scruggs’ “Flint Hill Special.” Scruggs had added two additional tuning pegs to his banjo. They had cams which pushed on the second and third strings, enabling him to raise and lower the pitch of each string while it was being plucked. That created a slurred note sound resembling that of a slide guitar or a pedal steel.

Gary had heard that sound when we were at Oberlin and thought its riff with the strings being tuned down and back up would make a nice introduction for my banjo part. He enjoyed the challenge of arranging the sound of the pegs for the orchestra.

The performance at the fair went over well, and soon after that someone — maybe Sutherlin? — suggested we try doing a banjo + big band LP. Thus the Delmarti 45, intended as a demo, was born. The recording was made, as the label indicates, by Don Sheets. Sheets had a recording studio in Brown County on Highway 135 halfway between Bean Blossom and Nashville. He did custom recording work — high school bands, choirs, that sort of stuff — and specialized in jingles. I worked for him there occasionally. A gold record for one of his jingles hung on the studio wall.

The recording was made on the IU Bloomington campus in August 1964, at the Indiana Memorial Union building’s Alumni Hall. The band was on the hall’s stage. Sheets set up his recording equipment on the floor in front of the stage. What I recall most vividly about the recording session is how solid the rhythm section was. “The Marti Mae Singers” was Don’s wife Marti, who overdubbed the harmony voices in his studio afterward.

The record was published in the fall of 1964. Our banjo + big band idea didn’t find any takers at record companies. At the time, bluegrass banjo crossover projects like this one were already up and running, and the heyday for Scruggs pegs had passed.

Earl Scruggs invented his pegs in 1952 after recording “Earl’s Breakdown,” an instrumental that incorporated as its hook a musical trick he’d been playing since boyhood — making a slur by plucking the second string (a B note), tuning it down while still ringing to an A, and then quickly back up to B, right in the middle of an instrumental break. A quick twist! He and Lester recorded it in October 1951. 

It was released at the end of the year on a Columbia single, the B side of “‘Tis Sweet To Be Remembered,” the first Flatt & Scruggs title to make the Billboard charts. All winter long, Columbia advertised the single as a best-seller. The band, then based in Raleigh, was playing it on the radio and the road daily. 

The tedium of having to retune the string by ear every time he played it prompted Earl to invent a labor-saving device. He installed a tuning peg with an adjustable cam on it in the banjo’s peghead between the first and the second string. Turning the peg up made the cam stretch the second string up to B. Turning it down loosened it to A. That enabled him to play these peg hooks accurately every time.

At the same time as he installed the new tuning peg he placed an identical one between the third and the fourth string so that the third string could be moved down from a G to F# and back.

Earl did this because moving the second and third strings down is a natural part of tuning the banjo from an open G chord (the default, for Scruggs-style) to a D chord. This boyhood musical trick came from something he did whenever he played at a dance — change tunings. Certain dance pieces were in G, the most frequently used tuning. Others were in C or D, each with its own tuning. Scruggs used all three throughout his musical life.

In the spring of 1952 Earl could use his new tuners not only for “Earl’s Breakdown,” but also to move quickly from G to D in order to play “Reuben,” the old-time tune that had launched him as a three-finger picker, which he often picked with the band. 

Tablature for “Flint Hill Special” from Earl Scruggs and the 5-String Banjo, p. 103

That fall, just after moving to Knoxville, they recorded “Flint Hill Special,” Earl’s newest composition. It used his new pegs for the tune’s hook.  This riff came at the start of the recording and was repeated at the end of each banjo chorus. That’s what Gary Potter incorporated into his charts for our version of “Don’t Think Twice.”

Released within weeks as the B side of “Dim Lights, Thick Smoke,” “Flint Hill Special” was advertised by Columbia as a best-seller all spring of 1953. It got a lot of radio play. 

At the end of August, not long after Lester and Earl started broadcasting for Martha White Flour in Nashville, they recorded another new peg hook instrumental, “Foggy Mountain Chimes.” In the second half of each chorus Earl tuned both strings down, changing the banjo’s open chord to a D, then played harmonics — “chimes” — in that key before tuning back up to G. 

“Foggy Mountain Chimes” was released in November 1953. The following month Decca released a single recorded in Nashville by the Shenandoah Valley Boys. On one side was “Plunkin’ Rag,” a new banjo instrumental with yet another Scruggs peg hook. 

With the pegs as with every other aspect of his music, Earl Scruggs was being listened to in Nashville and copied by young banjo players everywhere. “Plunkin’ Rag” was just the start. More about that next time!


Neil V. Rosenberg is an author, scholar, historian, banjo player, and Bluegrass Music Hall of Fame inductee.

Photo of Neil V. Rosenberg: Terri Thomson Rosenberg

‘Urban Cowboy’ at 40: How a Mechanical Bull Changed Mickey Gilley’s Life

Mickey Gilley admits he wasn’t keen on the idea of installing a mechanical bull at his namesake honky-tonk on the outskirts of Houston, Texas. Nor is he shy about admitting just how wrong he was. That rodeo training device transformed Gilley’s Club into a cultural force. “The mechanical bull was never meant to be in an entertainment establishment like ours,” says the 84-year-old country star. “I thought it was a mistake, but it turned out to be a blessing. Without the mechanical bull, we never would have gotten that film with John Travolta.”

Every night there was a line for the mechanical bull. Demand was so high they installed a second bull and briefly considered buying the rights to the device in order to market it to honky-tonks around the country. Those would-be cowboys — called Gilleyrats after their favorite gathering spot — would compete to see who could stay on the bucking bull the longest, and that contest became the centerpiece of James Bridges’ 1980 film Urban Cowboy, featuring John Travolta in his follow-up to Saturday Night Fever. Exchanging the New York City discos for this dusty, Lone Star honky-tonk, he stars as Bud Davis, a small-town kid who moves to the big city and becomes a master of the mechanical bull.

The film culminates in a showdown with his nemesis, played by Scott Glenn, over the affections of a scene-stealing Debra Winger. As drama goes, this test of saddle skill is anticlimactic, as there is nothing at stake beyond macho pride. Bud isn’t fighting to escape his life (as his character in Fever did) nor to stay at Gilley’s. He’s just fighting. Though never quite satisfying as drama, Urban Cowboy is still fascinating 40 years later as a documentary about Gilley’s and the particular culture that grew up around it.

Gilley and his business partner, Sherwood Cryer, opened the place in 1970. At the time Gilley was only a regional star, with his own TV show in Houston and enough name recognition to open a club. (Being cousins with both Jerry Lee Lewis and Jimmy Swaggart didn’t hurt, either.) In 1974 he had a surprise hit with “Room Full of Roses,” which only brought more attention to his honky-tonk. He played there regularly and invited friends to fill in for him when he was on the road. The place grew into something like a theme park, with a dance floor roughly the size of a football field, several bars, tons of games, even a rodeo arena. “This place is bigger than my whole hometown,” Travolta’s character says when he first steps foot in the place.

Urban Cowboy captures the energy of Gilley’s Club in frenetic long takes that put you right at the bar or out on the dance floor. You can almost smell the sawdust and beer. Gilley even performs during a couple of scenes, as does Charlie Daniels, and the shots of couples shuffling across the floor in tight, fluid choreography are among the film’s highlights.

By the time a suspicious fire destroyed Gilley’s in 1990, the place and the film had already left a deep impression in popular culture. It introduced western wear as high fashion: tight jeans and big hats worn by guys who never rode the range (or a bull, for that matter), but still bought into the mythos of the American cowboy. And its soundtrack, featuring Bonnie Raitt, Boz Scaggs, and Kenny Rogers, peaked at No. 3 on the Billboard Hot 100 and produced chart-topping country singles such as “Lookin’ for Love” by Johnny Lee, “Could I Have This Dance” by Anne Murray, and “Stand by Me” by Gilley himself.

For our latest Roots on Screen column, we chatted with the club’s namesake about accidentally recording a hit single, flying with Travolta, and assaulting the sausage king.

BGS: How did you get to a point where you could open a massive honky-tonk with your name on it?

Gilley: I grew up in Louisiana and got two famous cousins, Jerry Lee Lewis and Rev. Jimmy Swaggart. Jerry Lee was my hero, because without him I probably wouldn’t have gotten in the music business. He came to Houston in ’57 and I saw how well he was doing. I was working construction making $1.25 an hour and that’s when I threw my hat in the ring. Seventeen years later I cut “Room Full of Roses” by mistake and it turned out to be my first No. 1 song. After that I got to tour with Conway and Loretta and next thing I knew John Travolta came knocking on my door. Everything broke loose.

How does somebody cut a hit single by accident?

I had a little TV show in the Houston market. One night I walked into Gilley’s and the lady who had the jukebox called me over and says, “Today on your TV show you did my favorite song, ‘She Called Me Baby All Night Long.’” It’s a Harlan Howard tune. She told me she’s in the jukebox business and if I would record that song, she’d put it on every one of her jukeboxes. I said, “Ma’am, I ain’t made a record in probably three years. The show is doing well. The club is doing well. I don’t really make records anymore.” She said, “Just make that one song for me.”

Well, as you know, back then they had 45s and you had to have an A side and a B side. I went in to cut “She Called Me Baby All Night Long” and for the flip side, I picked “Room Full of Roses.” It’s an old George Morgan song from the late ‘40s or early ‘50s. Lorrie Morgan’s father. I started the arpeggio on the piano and got maybe 30 seconds into it and then stopped. My bass guitar player looked over and said, “What’d you quit for?” I told him it sounded too much like Jerry Lee. And he says, “Who cares? Nobody’s going to hear it. It’s a B side!” So I recorded it. Didn’t think anything about it.

I took the record around to radio stations where we were buying time to advertise the club — “Gilley’s! 4500 Spencer Highway! Pasadena, Texas!” — and I asked if they would play the record when they did the spot on the club. I remember Bruce Nelson at WKNR asked me which side I wanted him to play. I said, “Either side you want. Doesn’t matter to me.” He looked at both sides and said, “I think I like that flower song.” He played it and it shot up the charts. Playboy Records picked it up and took it national for me in 1974.

What was a typical night like at Gilley’s during its heyday?

After the film Urban Cowboy came out, it was packed every night. I never seen anything like it in my life. It went on for about three and a half years. It was totally jam-packed, seven nights a week. People wanted to be a part of what it was all about. They just came out to have a good time. We had a lot of things in the club you could do, too. We had the two mechanical bulls, plus we had quite a few pool tables spread out through the club. Pinball. Punching bags… you know, things of that nature that people would get a kick out of.

How many stages did you have?

We had just the one big stage for music. Of course, my business partner built a rodeo arena back in ’85 or ’86 and hitched it onto the club, because he wanted to stay ahead of Billy Bob’s down in Fort Worth. The concerts we had in there worked out pretty good, because we had Willie Nelson, Waylon Jennings, George Jones, George Strait. People like that do real good in a rodeo arena, but other than that, it was just a big building that we didn’t need.

How often were you playing the regular stage?

I worked the club up until 1985. But I got into a squabble with him about the way the club was running and what was going on, and we got in a lawsuit. I got the club closed down, I got my name off of it, and later it was set on fire and burned. It was arson, but I don’t know who did it, you know? It went up in flames and no more Gilley’s in Pasadena, Texas. But we have a Gilley’s in Treasure Island in Vegas. We have two in Oklahoma and one in Dallas.

What do you remember about filming at Gilley’s?

The main thing I remember was that we had to do it during the day, daylight hours, because we operated the club at night as the regular nightclub. They closed all the doors and tried to make it as dark as they could. I remember the director hollering, “More smoke! More smoke!” to make it look more like a night at the club. They’d start early in the morning and go all day, shooting the parts they had to have. I never had been in a film of that caliber before, so it was different for me. But it was fun.

Was the Urban Cowboy Band something you put together especially for the film?

We had a band there that was playing the club, but I took them on the road with me and renamed them the Urban Cowboy Band when the film came out. Paramount Pictures told me it was OK to use it, so that’s what we did. We were awarded a Grammy for the song “Orange Blossom Special,” which I played piano on. But there were some great songs in the film. “Hello Texas” was written by a Texas guy by the name of Brian Collins and sung by Jimmy Buffett. That’s a great song. We also had Charlie Daniels doing “The Devil Went Down to Georgia” in the film.

Your version of “Stand by Me” was a big hit as well.

It was originally recorded by Ben E. King and written by Leiber and Stoller. The song was brought in by the producer, who was wanting to do what he called a “grudge dance” in the film. They picked “Stand by Me” and asked me to do the song. I was a little reluctant but the arrangement they put on it made it a different song than the Ben E. King version. When we got the song recorded, people were raving about it, and it turned out to be a hit. Now I close my shows with it.

What was it like having someone like John Travolta in your club every day? What was he like to work with?

Well, the one thing that John and I had in common was we both loved aviation. At the time, he was working on his pilot’s license, and I got to fly with him. I was so excited about the fact that I was getting to fly with the star of Urban Cowboy. He had just come off of Saturday Night Fever and Grease, so I’m in awe. I’m just an old country boy that’s had quite a few No. 1 songs, but I never had the popularity John Travolta had. He was working on his pilot’s license at the time, so I went up with him a few times. He went on to fly the big jets, which I’m sure is exciting for him. I never got that far in my career. I got to fly some jets, but they were like the LearJet and the Citation — nothing like the 747 he was flying.

How did the success of that movie and the soundtrack change your career?

It changed my life, because the record company put me with a different producer and he started picking songs like “You Don’t Know Me,” “That’s All That Matters to Me,” “Headache Tomorrow (Heartache Tonight),” and “Put Your Dreams Away.” They were all hits for me and opened more doors for me, as far as casino dates in Reno, Vegas, and Atlantic City. I wasn’t just known as a honky-tonk piano player anymore. I was known as a country performer and it gave me a little more clout. I got to play for two presidents. They gave me a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, invited me to come to Hollywood and do some acting roles, and I did The Fall Guy, Fantasy Island, The Dukes of Hazzard, and Murder, She Wrote. I had a scene in Murder, She Wrote where I grab Jimmy Dean, the sausage king! I grab him by the collar and shake him. Sometimes I show that clip in my show and say, “Look at that! I’m trying to shake the sausage out of Jimmy Dean!”

You’re still playing a lot of those songs from Urban Cowboy on tour, right?

Johnny Lee and I have done well by doing the music from that soundtrack and we called it the Urban Cowboy Reunion Tour. I wish we could have gotten more people involved, maybe Charlie Daniels or Bonnie Raitt. But we did pretty good just the two of us. I remember playing a casino down in Louisiana, and at the end of the show I looked at Johnny and said, “Do you realize those people out there dancing wasn’t even born when we did the film?” I think they come out here to see if we’re still alive!


Photo credit: Courtesy of 117 Entertainment

LISTEN: Darlingside, “A Light on in the Dark”

Artist: Darlingside
Hometown: Cambridge, Massachusetts
Song: “A Light on in the Dark”
Album: Fish Pond Fish
Release Date: October 9, 2020
Label: Thirty Tigers

In Their Words: “The lyrics open with the question, ‘Are you swimming with the fish pond fish, looking for oceans in the saltlessness?’ When we wrote that, we were thinking about social atomization and the idea that people become trapped in these false enclosures — fish ponds of our own making. The world outside one’s home or even outside one’s self can become a darkness to be warded off and shut out, and I’ve certainly been guilty of turning inward and making the world even darker as a result. But I’m desperate to break that cycle and I think a lot of people are; a light can’t shine only on itself. When the pandemic started, suddenly that idea of shutting out the world became in one sense much more real, and we really did become trapped in our own physical little fish ponds — but I think it also heightened our desperation and willingness to turn outward, to really connect with one another wholeheartedly.

“The second verse pulls some ideas from a writing exercise in which I was given a prompt to write about being a ‘cellar master’ and so I wrote a sort of open love letter to my plumber, who embodies a number of traits and competences that I lack. The tune itself has been around since 2016 and was originally sung over an arpeggiating line from a little synthesizer called a Septavox. We ended up stripping away that synth part in favor of more traditional instruments, with the exception of one section where Auyon meticulously recreated the synth line using sped-up, plucked violin.” — Dave Senft, Darlingside


Photo credit: Robb Stey

LISTEN: Shovels & Rope, “C’mon Utah” (Acoustic)

Artist: Shovels & Rope
Hometown: Charleston, South Carolina
Song: “C’mon Utah” (Acoustic Version)
Album: By Blood Deluxe Edition
Release Date: August 28, 2020
Label: Dualtone

In Their Words: “Presenting the campfire version of this traveler’s journey atop a magical horse named Utah, who leads him on a quest through the southern Midwest back to his family from whom he’s been separated by a heinous, authoritarian evildoer.” —Michael Trent & Cary Ann Hearst, Shovels & Rope


Photo credit: Mike Crackerfarm

Bronwyn Keith-Hynes, “Fiddler’s Pastime”

A handful of pages into her book, How To Do Nothing, artist, scientist, and researcher Jenny Odell makes the point that, under capitalism and the Protestant work ethic somewhere along the way modern human understanding of time transformed from being something that “passes” to being something that’s “spent.” Time is money. Where, in the not too distant rearview, time was not always considered a scarce resource or commodity. Instead of passing the time, we now spend it. 

Mid-pandemic, the distinction between these two perspectives feels even more important. To musicians — especially the working, middle-class set whose income hinges almost entirely on performing and creating constantly — the enforced global pausing of COVID-19 has allowed many the ability to refocus their priorities, retooling creativity to be something by which we all pass time, once again, instead of ravenously spending it. 

Any listener familiar with the bowstrokes of fiddler Bronwyn Keith-Hynes (Mile Twelve) will know this particular fiddler’s favorite pastime is… well, fiddle. The most tangible hallmark of her playing style may be her practice regimen, a preponderance of thought and intention evident in every last note. On her debut solo album, Fiddler’s Pastime, and especially its titular number, the oft-trod licks and turns of phrase she pulls on from those hours of study and rehearsal don’t feel canned or stilted, shoehorned into contexts to impress or beguile. They feel like simple outgrowths of Keith-Hynes’ tender-while-precise playing (and practice).

The musical backdrop of “Fiddler’s Pastime,” provided by Harry Clark (mandolin), Jeff Picker (bass), Jake Stargel (guitar), and producer Wes Corbett (banjo), acts as a cozy base layer of security and support for Keith-Hynes’ sometimes languid or teasingly lazy melodic interplay. But the cherry-on-top of this exquisite Bill Monroe via Kenny Baker cover is Laura Orshaw’s immaculate, identical-level twin fiddle. Awarded Fiddle Performer of the Year from the trad-facing Society for the Preservation of Bluegrass Music of America (SPGBMA) in 2019, Orshaw’s fiddling remains dismally underrated on the national and international scenes. She shines here with her longtime friend and collaborator. 

The dots are seamlessly connected; between Keith-Hynes, Orshaw, and this superlative crackerjack band, Fiddler’s Pastime is one album well-suited for inclusion in our quiver of pastimes to take us through this pandemic isolation.


Photo credit: Scott Simontacchi