Tag: Banjo

Banjo Player Kyle Tuttle Reflects on Personal Growth and ‘Labor of Lust’

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

One of the most talented and sought after banjo players in bluegrass, Kyle Tuttle’s life has been full of the highest of highs and lowest of lows in recent years, from a marriage and divorce to the surprise death of close friend and bandmate Jeff Austin to the loss of his job due to COVID and finally hitting the road as a member of Molly Tuttle & Golden Highway.

All of that and more are documented on Labor of Lust (out February 16), an 11-song expedition taking listeners on a deeply personal and sonically diverse journey of tragedy and triumph. Recorded across three separate sessions in Nashville dating back to 2018, the record also documents a significant chunk of Tuttle’s life that, despite the length of time and changes that come with it, aren’t lacking a central theme. This led him to describing the project as “a long work-in-progress,” due to how its focus shifted throughout the more than five years of bringing it to life.

“By the time it was all said and done, this was a pretty eclectic group of songs,” Tuttle tells BGS. “There’s some stuff with an electric band that includes drums and me on electric banjo, others with traditional string band arrangements and some that meet in the middle for a more jamgrass sound.”

One of the songs that bridge the gap between these two worlds of bluegrass is “Hard to Say,” a song that sees Tuttle grieving the loss of Austin, his marriage, and his job all at the same time. It’s anchored by his blistering banjo backbone with introspective lyrics like, “Knowing that it’s gone and gone for good, makes you wonder what the hell you’re waiting on?” that serve as a message to himself and anybody listening to ask the questions you need to ask, then play another one.

“Even though the music and lyrics were written over a handful of years, loss and learning to deal with it on a personal level is central to this record,” indicates Tuttle. “That being said, there’s a lot of joy within these songs too. I don’t want to make it seem like I wrote music for five years and all I experienced was misery. Loss is something we all have to deal with at one time or another, and my way of dealing with it was to write some of this music.”

Speaking by phone from his snowed-in Nashville home following a mid-January winter storm, Tuttle opened up about how he approaches being a bandleader compared to his current gig with Golden Highway, being stuck in a Bob Ross painting, choosing to work doing something you love, and more.

You’re notorious for staying extremely busy in your musical endeavors, from sitting in with folks on stage and in the studio to your stints with the Jeff Austin band, (your current gig with) Molly Tuttle, and your own compositions and projects, like Labor of Lust. With that in mind, how do you approach your own music versus being a member of someone else’s band?

Kyle Tuttle: It’s a bit different, because with my own show I’m the bandleader, along with other variables. With my shows, I play with lots of different members, I don’t have one set group of people that know my body of material super well, but rather lots of friends I can call on who all have different strengths. For that reason, when fronting my own band I’m more in the headspace of trying to wrangle all these people and variables together for a cohesive show, whereas with Molly we all have our roles that are specifically defined. One role isn’t more comfortable to me than the other, they just both require different things from me.

Is that comfort what had you leaning on friends like Travis Book, Dominick Leslie, and Lindsay Lou in the studio instead of session players?

It speaks very similarly to what we were just talking about with putting together a version of the Kyle Tuttle Band for shows. I wouldn’t use the term session player though, because even though all of these people are my friends they can also be called “session players” for their work on other’s records, because they’re all so good at what they do. I pick them very specifically based on their strengths and what they’ll bring to the music. I’ve been lucky through my years in the business to build personal connections with an awesome group of people that I can call when I’m looking to create something.

Although not an original, I really enjoy your cover of Harry Nilsson’s “Turn On The Radio” that closes the album. What drew you to that song of his in particular instead of “Coconut” or another of Nilsson’s gems?

I’m gonna have to work on a “Coconut” cover next, because that song is awesome! In all seriousness, [“Turn On The Radio”] felt like a thematically appropriate way to close this album. At the end of the day, I’m just a jamgrass stoner that plays banjo wanting to make a record that people can enjoy and have fun with. This record has some heavy undertones, so I felt like it deserved a nice ribbon on top to end it. It speaks to me big time, [about] remembering those near and dear who you’ve lost, especially if they’re an artist doing something you can hear. That sentiment of “turn on your record player, listen to my song, turn on your night light baby, I’m gone” felt like the right words to capture that feeling even though I didn’t say them, Harry did! I’ve loved the song for a while, so when I began putting this record together it immediately made sense to close it with this.

In terms of your own songs, I understand that “Trailer In Boulder Canyon” came together at two different times, similar to the recording process for all of Labor of Lust?

That’s a funny one, because as I said previously, I’m just a jamgrass stoner banjo player. First and foremost it’s a fun, feel good song about a magical place — a shitty little trailer on the side of a mountain up in Nederland, Colorado, where you don’t have to worry about any of your troubles or cares and just get to play fiddles and banjos and have fun all day. There’s a great jamgrass scene up there due to Vince Herman and Drew Emmitt basically starting Leftover Salmon up there. Years later some of The String Cheese Incident guys moved there followed by Jeff Austin, leading to the eventual forming of Yonder Mountain String Band there as well. There’s such a rich history of the music I love so much in that goofy little mountain town.

I initially wrote the chorus and first verse for the song as a goofy little ditty after it bounced around in my head for a while. I went up there when Vince put together a memorial concert for Jeff to help raise money for his family and so people could grieve together and ended up writing the second half of the song driving up the canyon road to get there. So like a lot of things on this record, part of it came to me at one point before finishing it off much later.

You’ve got three instrumentals on this record and another mostly instrumental tune in “Two Big Hearts.” What variations do songs like those have compared to ones with lyrics in the creation process?

The process is relatively the same, because no matter if I write with lyrics or melody I’m starting with some short idea and building around that nugget of information piece by piece. If it’s a melody, it’ll probably come out as an instrumental, but if it’s with lyrics it’s probably going to come out as a song with vocals. Even though it’s one track, “Two Big Hearts” is really two songs. The lyrics in it don’t come in until the second song, nearly four minutes in, but I felt that both were similar enough that they should be together and presented as one idea. I don’t think I’ll ever play one part of it without playing the other.

On “Not Quite Spring,” you’re singing about being stuck inside a Bob Ross painting. How’d that idea come about?

That’s a COVID song. I was sitting around on the couch watching a lot of Bob Ross’s The Joy Of Painting, just killing time like we all were back then. All of his paintings were titled and each episode of his show is titled after the painting he does in it. [“Not Quite Spring” is season 25, episode 3]. It’s of this spooky, huge mountain that’s covered in snow and frozen. A lot of his paintings are happy sunsets and warm things like a pond reflecting the trees around it, a stark contrast to this one that’s cold, dark and lonely, which is exactly how I felt at the time trapped inside my house.

In the album’s liner notes you allude to a life in music often being painted in glamor, when in reality it’s a consistent grind where persistence pays off. Is that message of sticking to it what you’re singing about on “Saddle Up?”

“Saddle Up” is the term I have for getting up every day and doing it again. It’s the idea that you may not have succeeded today or done everything you wanted to do the way you wanted to do it, which is what I’m touching on with the lyric, “The past can’t be where my best is.”

I feel like persistence defines my own life and career. Anyone who works in pursuit of a skill or art is always striving to get better. Even outside of that, we’re all working on our personal relationships and doing better by the people around us. Hopefully our best work, whether it be art or personal growth, is ahead of us and it’s not all downhill from here. It’s also a message I wish to impart on any listener or friend going through a rough patch to remind them that brighter days are on the horizon.

With Labor of Lust’s themes of personal growth in mind, what’s one resolution you have for yourself, music or otherwise, in 2024?

I’m actually trying to play the banjo even more, not from the standpoint of traveling and playing more shows, but just tinkering with it more in my downtime. It’s an interesting duality, tying your work to something you love. It’s a tricky thing to do because the lines between work and play are instantly blurred and made one. If it’s all work and no play it makes Jack a dull boy, so my resolution is to just keep the banjo in my hands for fun and to work smarter, not harder, which comes back to the idea that the past is not where my best work is.

Photo courtesy of the artist.

From China to Appalachia, It’s All About Musical Community

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

“What do Chinese and Appalachian music have in common?” is not really the central question in the minds of Cathy Fink, Marcy Marxer, and Chao Tian, whose From China to Appalachia concerts may first appear wildly random in their combination of instruments and styles. To these expert folk musicians, the real question is, “What don’t Chinese and Appalachian music have in common?” The latter would have a much shorter answer.

There’s a sense of belonging, of homeyness, of ease to this musical collaboration. With their primary configuration including Chinese hammered dulcimer played by Tian, clawhammer five-string banjo played by Fink, and cello banjo played by Marxer, those overarching moods could feel surprising, but for this trio there is really no such thing as not belonging.

Fink and Marxer have constructed every facet of their lifelong careers with community building centered – that’s how they connected with Tian, after all, when she participated in a fellowship program at Strathmore Arts Center nearby their home in Maryland. Fink & Marxer host their hugely popular UkeFest at Strathmore, and Fink is often a mentor of fellowship artists such as Tian. When the three began making music together, they realized the seamlessness of their musical and cultural vocabularies almost immediately.

@cathybanjo @chaotianmusic #yangqin #fromchinatoappalachia #banjo #clawhammerbanjo #culturaldiplomacy #grammywinners @freshgrassfoundation #hammereddulcimer #cellobanjo #trio #concert ♬ original sound – Cathy Fink

That realization, it turns out, is contagious. Recently, a simple promotional video of the trio performing a song to highlight a slate of performances went viral on TikTok. At the time of this writing, it has gained more than 550,000 views, more than 101,000 likes, and 14,000 saves. (Theirs is a music well worth holding onto for later.) Fink, Marxer, and Tian immediately noticed an impact from the viral video at their shows, with multiple dates selling out and new fans driving hundreds of miles to catch a tour date.

Listening to the three perform, the ease and charm of the music – however disparate its parts may feel – is immediately apparent, whether through a screen, a workshop, a community event, a concert, or a sing along. It’s clear that Cathy, Marcy, and Chao are using their music to teach the world and anyone who will listen that with roots music, there’s no such thing as not belonging.

We spoke to Fink, Marxer, and Tian via FaceTime last month, as they prepared for a short tour in the mid-Atlantic and immediately following their viral TikTok. The trio will continue touring From China to Appalachia throughout 2024 with appearances planned at Wintergrass, in the Northeast with special guest Jake Blount, and beyond.

Let’s start with your recent viral video on TikTok, I wonder what you might think is so exciting about this particular combination of instruments? Because, clearly there is something about this lineup that has resonated with folks! I have a couple of my own ideas about it, but I wonder what you think is particularly electric about banjos and Chinese dulcimer together?

Cathy Fink: Chao, do you want to start?

Chao Tian: Okay! So, I play the Chinese dulcimer, right? The most common question that people ask me in this country is, “What’s the difference between the Chinese one and the American hammered dulcimer?” They share a similar history. The Chinese dulcimer was actually introduced to China by British travelers back more than 500 years ago. And, somehow I have just felt, when I play with Appalachian musicians, or play American Roots music, I feel like I’m home. This instrument actually feels the same way – back home. It just melts into this genre of music smoothly and without any problems. The music languages are quite matchable, perfectly.

I feel like if I try to collaborate with musicians of any other type of genre – like, I play with jazz musicians – I need to learn their language. For Appalachian music, I just feel like I speak it, not the native language, but some kind of accent. But, without any limitations to communicate with those musicians.

I wanted to ask you, also, because one of the first things that came to mind for me when I saw your collaboration is Abigail Washburn collaborating with Wu Fei. Could you talk a little bit about the difference between a guzheng and a dulcimer and about your approaches and how they differ?

CT: Yes, that’s another question that people think about when they see our collaboration. Some of them just bluntly ask us, “What’s the difference?” Instrumentally we have some differences [from Wu and Washburn], because Cathy and Marcy, they are multi-instrumentalists. They can play more [instruments] and our music style is versatile.

The dulcimer’s history and background is quite different from the guzheng, because guzheng is a Chinese instrument traditionally and dulcimer is actually a worldwide instrument. As I said, [the U.S.] is a home country of this instrument.

We have a collaborative vibe and more like a family vibe. Like a family reunion… I define our collaboration as an intercultural collaboration. For most people’s opinions, they see us, too, like an intercultural thing. But when people talk about intercultural collaboration, we somehow initially think about what’s the difference between these two cultures, or three cultures, or among different cultures.

Our collaboration is based on mutual understanding and cultural respect. When we started this collaboration, we noticed there are a lot of commonalities between Chinese traditional music and American roots music. So this intercultural collaboration transformed from, “Let’s just try something” into, “Let’s delve into more about the musical language, the musical form, the scales–”

Because there are similar scales we use – the pentatonic scale, the modes. The format of the folk musics are similar, very similar. I always feel like even though folk music, those little tunes are short, but they can contain very powerful, immense messages that we can deliver to people.

And I really think our title, From China to Appalachia, actually is a very clear description. Yes, literally, but it’s not only that. Some people on TikTok suggested a very interesting idea, that we should replace China with my hometown, Beijing, because Appalachia is a region and China is a country, right? But actually we use that title not to describe the geographic thing, we are talking about music. We’re talking about culture. So from China to Appalachia, there is something that strongly linkages between them. Not only musically, not only culture, but also on a people to people level.

We should try our best to find what our commonalities are, more than trying to show, “I am special! I am special! You should listen to me! You should listen to me more!” So, it’s just musical healing.

That’s such a great answer and it makes me think of, Cathy and Marcy, how you’ve always placed community so central in how you make music. It’s not something that’s an after effect of music making for you. It’s something that’s very present in the beginning stages when you make music. Can you talk about how this project is another example of how you build community with all the music making that you do?

CF: It’s definitely that and I thank you for recognizing that. Right now, we’re in the midst of a tour that is co-sponsored by Mid Atlantic Tours of Mid Atlantic Arts. To our delight, one of the criteria for presenters participating [in the program] is that there be a community outreach event. In each place that we go, that event is different. We’ve performed for some high school kids, and this weekend our outreach was playing music at a Unitarian service. I have to tell you, it was the most beautiful service of community gathering and worship without using two words that you almost always hear in a church – God and Christ. Everyone was included. They didn’t care who you worshiped. They didn’t care who you were. If you wanted to come together and be in community, then please come in the door. For us to play music in that scenario was really amazing.

In Fredonia, [New York], it just so happened that Emily Schaad – a fiddler in the old-time music community, but also a phenomenal conductor and classical musician – had just moved to Fredonia, and we were playing at the Fredonia Opera House. They reached out to Emily and said, “How about putting together a workshop?” So, Emily had her orchestra students come and she reached out to all of the regional youth bluegrass organizations. We had a room of like 75 people – her orchestra students, kids learning bluegrass, Appalachian dulcimer players, tuba players, horn players, you name it. There was an amazing cello player who took over on Marcy’s cello banjo and immediately understood what it was.

We put together an arrangement of a tune and that was meaningful to everybody. Then, we have something coming up this weekend in Martinsville, Virginia at a place called Piedmont Arts and we’re so excited about it. Our first set is going to be based on our repertoire, we’re just going to pick what we want for an hour long set. In our second set, there’s a Chinese watercolor artist, local to that community, who has an exhibit at Piedmont Arts right now, and he’s going to be on stage creating a new watercolor while we play music, much of it improvised.

I think this grant [from Mid Atlantic Arts] has opened the door to more community. I think it will be a centerpiece of every place we go. When this grant is finished and presenters are interested in us, one of the things that we’re going to say is, “What collaborative community thing can we do?” How can we meet more people eye-to-eye, music-to-music, or whatever it may be?

Community is one of the most important things that this show and our collaboration stands for, and we’ve made music with Chao for, I don’t know, six years or so. She did some touring with us and Sam Gleaves, which was really fun. We did a little run out to Ashe County Arts Council there, in our neighborhood. And that was an interesting test for how does this music fly in Appalachia? It was just amazing, the response.

When we started doing more work together, remember that when COVID hit, there was a lot of anti-Asian sentiment in the country. We felt like making this music together was our statement of community and of humanity. We never had to say a thing about it. We just had to all be there together and present a very honest sense of community and love.

It’s perhaps another reason why this TikTok video of yours took off. Because, I think a lot of people, whether consciously or subconsciously, when they see banjos they might not know anything about banjo music besides stereotypes. I think there’s something about this lineup, and in particular the mission that you’re bringing to the music, that makes it so inviting to folks. You’re not just saying, “Come and listen to us.” You’re saying, “Come be a part of this.”

I think that’s part of why people see and hear this music and it might come off as intellectual or cerebral music, but they’re responding to it in a very down to earth way and they feel invited by it.

CF: And it’s very participatory. I will tell you, in Richmond, when we started singing and playing “High on a Mountain,” there were a lot of people there who knew the song. We just said, “Sing it with us!” And my God, did they ever sing it with us. There are several songs in the show full of sing-along participation, and I’m going to guess that a lot of the new fans through TikTok and social media haven’t been to a lot of folk concerts where that’s kind of an expected part of what happens.

But we have a very full circle story with a piece that Chao brought to the group after she heard a recording of Pete Seeger and Arlo Guthrie doing it. It’s a Chinese song called, “Three Rules of Attention and Eight Points of Discipline.” They recorded it in 1975. It’s a really awkward choice in many ways, because it deals specifically with peasants who were leaving Chiang Kai-shek’s army for the Red Army. They used this particular piece of music in the Red Army to teach what I’m going to call, “rules of humanity.” When you hear and read these rules of humanity, and you look at what’s going on in the world today, you go, “Oh my God, 1928, this song?” And Chinese people in the audience feel like we’ve brought them back to their home and their childhood.
It’s a really interesting thing. Pete has, of course, a thousand people whistling on it with him. I can’t whistle worth nothing. Marcy’s pretty good at whistling. but we get the audience singing “La” and taking over the song and we’re all there together

I wanna make a quick point about Abigail and Wu Fei, because so many people make that immediate connection, too. First of all, I wanna say that we’re friends with Abigail and Chao has met Wu Fei, and I find that what we do is, separately, is very complementary. There are some differences – you know, Abby speaks fluent Chinese! Chao’s trying to teach us to sing in Chinese, and we’re working on it every day. That’s a little part of how she’s stretching us in some ways. And then we’re stretching her in some ways.

Additionally, in our show From China to Appalachia, there’s a sort of hidden parentheses: “And beyond.” From China to Appalachia (and Beyond). It’s a big focus of ours to collaborate on Chinese and Appalachian music, but it is also a real joy to pick a Django Reinhardt piece like “Dark Eyes,” which Marcy plays on the mighty ukulele. So then we have ukulele and guitar and Chinese dulcimer. Or, we’ve kind of reinvented Cousin Emmy’s “Ruby.” We have a gourd banjo, Marcy on the doumbek – she’s got a pink Barbie doumbek – and Chao on hammered dulcimer. Chao does things on hammered dulcimer that no one else does. She’s got a slide she uses on it, she’s got all these interesting sounds.

We certainly see what we do as embracing a lot of different world music concepts and basically, we feel like it’s all very complimentary. We’d love nothing better than to share a show and collaborate with Abby and Wu Fei.

That’s perfect as a segue, because I also wanted to talk about sonics and about the music itself. Marcy, I wonder if you could talk a little bit about how as you’re crafting these tunes, how are you thinking about building the ensemble? How do you decide which instruments you’re going to utilize when?

Marcy Marxer: At first, we just try a bit of everything and see what works best. For me personally, the cello banjo is working really well in this group. My main instrument is guitar, of course, and I will be playing more guitar in the future, but I love the high angelic overtones of the hammer dulcimer with Cathy’s banjo ringing and then the cello kind of being, as Chao calls it, the panda of the group. [Laughs] The giant panda. [That combination] is just a sonic sound that I’ve never heard before.

You know, the hammered dulcimer was so popular in the ‘70s and ‘80s in old-time, traditional music. Then it kind of fell out of favor. Much of that had to do with the fact that the hammered dulcimer was hard to tune and the rest of the group would have to tune to the dulcimer. But it’s such an engaging sound. I mean, it really captured my heart ever since I was a little tiny child, listening to my grandma play, and then playing it myself. I think it’s really time for the hammered dulcimer to come back. I mean, we still have a generation or two of hammered dulcimer players who are 60 and over and some younger players, but I’m not so aware of them. But, I’d love to see the hammered dulcimer really come back into American traditional music in a way that younger people can still learn from the masters.

Audiences have always loved the hammered dulcimer. It’s just like old-time festivals and jams where it kind of fell out of favor to a point that some hammered dulcimer players just don’t go.

We need to bring that back, because there’s just a spirit and a liveliness to the dulcimer that nothing else has. You’ve got your percussion, you’ve got your sparkling tones, you’ve got your deep tones. It’s a real joy to play along with, to hear Cathy’s banjo and Chao’s dulcimer together just blows me away sometimes. It’s really stunning. And then to be able to add the lower stuff and take some solos. For me, that’s the comedy part, the cello banjo solos always make people laugh.

CF: Marcy’s kind of like the pinch hitter, right? I do three things: I sing, I play whatever banjo is the best banjo for the moment, and I play rhythm guitar. Like Marcy, I think the unique center of our sound is the cello banjo, the five-string banjo, and the hammered dulcimer. But then Marcy adds ukulele. She adds a mandolin. She adds tin whistle if it’s appropriate. She has percussion things. She plays the doumbek. With each song that we play, Marcy and I are going in our heads, “What does she play that might add something to this, that we don’t mind schlepping on the road?” [Laughs]

Marcy describes this sometimes like you have this box of crayons. Chao’s got a big fat crayon, I have two or three small crayons, and Marcy owns the rest of the box! [Laughs]

Photo Credit: Jeff Fasano

Acoustic America: Musical Instrument Museum’s Exhibit Gathers Iconic Instruments

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

In early November, the Musical Instrument Museum in Phoenix, Arizona unveiled a brand new exhibition, Acoustic America, which celebrates iconic instruments of many heroes of folk, blues, bluegrass, and more. The exhibit is presented in partnership with our Dawg in December Artist of the Month, David Grisman and his record label Acoustic Disc, and showcases a remarkable collection of instruments that the museum states, “Have redefined music not only in the United States, but around the world.” This includes more than thirty instruments on loan from the Dawg himself.

“MIM is honored for this opportunity to collaborate with David Grisman and feature so many prized instruments from his collection,” says MIM senior curator Rich Walter, via email. “And after many years of loving his music, it has been a joy on a personal level for me, too. His influence as a mandolinist, composer, and bandleader is huge, and he absolutely changed the course of acoustic music as we know it today.”

The Acoustic America Gallery at the Musical Instrument Museum in Phoenix, AZ.

Guests of the museum will be able to view storied and legendary instruments formerly owned and played by such luminaries as Earl Scruggs, Elizabeth Cotten, Mississippi John Hurt, John Hartford, Lloyd Loar, and many more. “Beyond the legacies of the individual artists and the beauty of these historic instruments,” Walter continues, “Seeing this collection together in one space is really striking because it reflects a broader American narrative. Exceptional individuals from diverse backgrounds crossed paths and connected their talents in ways that gave us distinctive new traditions that continue to inspire people around the world.”

To celebrate the new exhibition and Dawg in December, we’ve partnered with MIM to bring you these photos of select instruments from Acoustic America. Make plans to visit the Musical Instrument Museum in Arizona now! Tickets are available at MIM.org.

(Editor’s Note: Instrument information provided from the Acoustic America catalog.)

1910 Gibson F-4 Mandolin: Owned and played by David Grisman. Loan courtesy of David Grisman.

The F-4 model was Gibson’s premier mandolin until late 1922, when the F-5 was introduced. In addition to the characteristic oval sound hole and carved scroll, this early example features a three-point body style (note the points protruding from the body), elaborate torch and wire peghead inlay pattern, and special Handel tuning buttons with colorful inlays. David Grisman featured this mandolin on the cover of his first solo album, The David Grisman Rounder Album, and has recorded with it on other projects, including Tone Poems with Tony Rice and Not for Kids Only with Jerry Garcia.

1954 Gibson F-5 Mandolin: Owned and played by Ralph Rinzler. Loan courtesy of David Grisman.

Manager, talented musician, and legendary folklorist Ralph Rinzler (1934–1994) was one of David Grisman’s earliest and most influential mentors. Sharing a hometown of Passaic, New Jersey, Rinzler introduced Grisman to important recordings of folk music and inspired him to play the mandolin. Rinzler played this F-5 mandolin with the Greenbriar Boys, who were the first non-Southern bluegrass band to win at the Union Grove Old Time Fiddler’s Convention in North Carolina. He also managed the careers of Doc Watson and Bill Monroe and was instrumental in creating the first dedicated bluegrass festival in Fincastle, Virginia, in 1965. Two years later, Rinzler founded the Smithsonian Folklife Festival to celebrate and support living cultural heritage from around the world.

1947 Martin 2-15 Mandolin: Owned and played by Ira Louvin. MIM Collection.

Few brother duet acts in country music were as influential as the Louvin Brothers. Ira and Charlie Louvin were born in Alabama in the 1920s, and their high harmony singing and Ira’s tasteful mandolin playing helped them define a sound popularized through radio broadcasts, commercial recordings, and appearances on the Grand Ole Opry – where they debuted in 1955. Ira customized this one-of-a-kind mandolin in the flashy style of professional country artists and played it extensively, including on the Grand Ole Opry stage. This special piece of mandolin history was also owned by David Grisman for many years.

1924 Gibson F-5 Mandolin: Lloyd Loar’s personal F-5 mandolin. MIM collection.

This mandolin — serial number 75315; label dated February 18, 1924 — was the personal instrument of famed Gibson acoustic engineer Lloyd Loar. Loar was impressively inventive and patented designs for keyboard actions and electric instruments, among many others, but the F-5 Master Model mandolin is arguably his most iconic and enduring success. The interior of this mandolin is fitted with an original Virzi Tone Producer. F-5 mandolins with Loar’s signature on the label are the most valuable and sought-after in the world, and Loar F-5s from the batch signed on this date are known to be among the best-sounding. Perhaps it is not surprising that Loar kept this remarkable mandolin for himself!

1928 Martin 00-40H Guitar: Played by the New Lost City Ramblers. Loan courtesy of Darrell Scott.

This guitar was played extensively by the New Lost City Ramblers, who were pivotal to the national revival of Southern folk music in the 1950s and 1960s. Founding members John Cohen, Tom Paley, and Mike Seeger were dedicated to authentically reproducing folk traditions for new audiences. The group recorded several albums for Smithsonian Folkways and helped discover, document, and showcase talented artists such as Elizabeth Cotten, Dock Boggs, and Snuffy Jenkins. Prewar pearl-trimmed Martin guitars are among the most desirable acoustic instruments in the world.

1929 Dobro Model 125 Resophonic Guitar: Owned and played by LeRoy Mack. Loan courtesy of LeRoy McNees.

In 1961, the Kentucky Colonels, led by brothers Clarence and Roland White, performed on The Andy Griffith Show, under the alias “the Country Boys.” The Kentucky Colonels were one of the most exciting and influential bluegrass bands of their era, and their national television appearance would have been much of the United States’ first memorable exposure to bluegrass. Dobro player LeRoy McNees (AKA LeRoy Mack) played this Model 125 resophonic guitar during the show and for many years afterward. After the guitar was damaged at an airport, McNees restored and outfitted it with gold-plated metal hardware.

1975 Stelling Staghorn Banjo: Owned and played by Alison Brown. Loan courtesy of Alison Brown.

A young Alison Brown spent her entire savings on this then-new banjo built by Geoff Stelling, hoping to emulate the crisp, solid tone of Alan Munde, an influential older banjoist who played a similar Staghorn model. Brown played this banjo on her first album, 1981’s Pre-Sequel, and she later played it with Alison Krauss’s successful band Union Station. One of the most gifted banjoists in the world, Brown was the first woman voted Banjo Player of the Year by the International Bluegrass Music Association (in 1991). She has also won multiple Grammy awards, founded her own record label, Compass Records, and was inducted into the Banjo Hall of Fame in 2019.

1913 Knutsen harp guitar: Owned and played by Michael Hedges. Loan courtesy of Taproot, LLC.

Guitarist and composer Michael Hedges (1953–1997) used a range of innovative and unconventional playing techniques — such as alternate tunings and percussive tapping on the strings and soundboard — to expand the possibilities of what a solo artist could do. In rediscovering the sound of vintage harp guitars with dedicated sub-bass strings, Hedges reimagined the guitar as a full-spectrum compositional tool. His 1984 album Aerial Boundaries illustrated his astonishing talent and helped define the contemporary new age acoustic music of Windham Hill Records. Hedges nicknamed this favored harp guitar “Darth Vader,” and his use of harp guitars revived interest in these long-obscure instruments.

All photos courtesy of the Musical Instrument Museum, Phoenix, Arizona.

You Have to Hear Tray Wellington Band Cover Kid Cudi

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

It’s that time, when music writers everywhere are thinking and writing about the best of the year’s music, blurbing away for year-end round ups. (Speaking of, our BGS year-end picks will be unveiled next week.) While it’s right to view ranking, commodifying, and objectifying music with a degree of skepticism, there is certainly something constructive and generative about reflecting on the songs, albums, and performances that have stuck with us throughout a year. It’s especially illuminating when certain music immediately jumps out from the rest, requiring no particular organization or intention to be a constant presence throughout a year or to be remembered among the cream of the crop.

Tray Wellington Band’s cover of Kid Cudi’s “Pursuit of Happiness” is one such song. When the group performed it earlier this year at FWAAMFest in Texas, it wasn’t the first time I had heard their rendition, but it was the first time I noticed an audience hearing it themselves for the first time. I was struck by the reactions, in a non-bluegrass audience they varied from utter shock to outright glee – even other bands and artists on the lineup were beside themselves, as Tray Wellington Band laid out their one-of-a-kind cover of such a recognizable melody. Later this year, I saw TWB perform again at Earl Scruggs Music Festival in Tryon, North Carolina, and yet again, down the road a handful of weeks later at IBMA’s Bluegrass Live! festival and conference in Raleigh. Each time, regardless of the audience’s starting point or their baseline understanding of bluegrass, of the banjo, of cover songs such as this, “Pursuit of Happiness” would generate electricity in the crowd.

There’s a reason why hearing a North Carolina-born, Raleigh-based (via east Tennessee) Scruggs-style banjo player’s take on “Pursuit of Happiness” reminds of Reno & Smiley performing Johnny Cash and Elvis hits and Flatt & Scruggs recording buckets of Bob Dylan songs. This is a tradition in bluegrass as old as the genre itself. Executed as artfully as this, it has the potential to bring countless new fans of string band music into the fold. That “Pursuit of Happiness” retains its impact, no matter the audience – thanks, in large part, to this band’s remarkable musicality as an ensemble – at bluegrass festivals, African American music festivals, or even in Earl Scruggs’ home county, speaks to that ineffable quality of this music that we all hold so dear. Sometimes, a bluegrass song just grabs you and it won’t let go. “Pursuit of Happiness” is destined to grab more than its own share of ears, and Tray Wellington and band deserve it and then some, for bringing this track to the world.

 

LISTEN: Jayme Stone, “Wreckage of the Fall”

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Artist: Jayme Stone
Hometown: Longmont, Colorado
Song: “Wreckage of the Fall”
Release Date: November 10, 2023

In Their Words: “‘Wreckage of the Fall’ is a fever dream about transformation, mystical experience and emotional healing. I wrote it during a weeklong retreat at the Banff Center of the Arts. It emerged alongside a lot of tears, wild dreams, old wounds and a brief experience of clairvoyance. For a few days, I could see voices coming out my phone. I could feel the exact distance between me and other people in faraway cities like some kind of telepathic Google Earth. The song is full of witchy magic — runes, talismans, pentacles, and crystals. They started appearing and I just followed them.

“‘Wreckage’ is the first in a song cycle I’m currently calling ‘Anima,’ one the archetypes in Carl Jung’s map of the collective unconscious. I spent three years producing it — the longest I’ve ever worked on a track. There are many layers of guitar, my trusty Juno 106 from the late ’80s, an OB-6 synth and a lot of backup vocals care of Daniela Gesundheit. I programmed the drums in Abelton and then had John Hadfield play a real kit, which I then blended with the programming. The song feels like an MRI of my emotional state at the time. It’s some kind of magic to have a sonic postcard I can share now.” – Jayme Stone

Track Credits: Written by Jayme Stone.

Recorded and produced by Jayme Stone.
Mixed and mastered by David Travers-Smith.

Jayme Stone – voice, guitar, synth, drum programming
Emanuel Alexander – guitar, bass
Daniela Gesundheit – voice
John Hadfield – drums
Greg Harris – synth

Photo Credit: Shervin Lainez

The Latest Album From Steep Canyon Rangers Showcases Fresh Sounds, New Lineup

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

It’s a rather warm evening in the mountains of Western North Carolina. With a sweltering sun slowly fading behind the ancient Blue Ridge peaks, Graham Sharp takes a seat at a picnic table underneath the welcoming shade of an old tree.

He takes a sip of a craft ale and gazes out upon the festive meadows of live music and fellowship behind Highland Brewing on the outskirts of Asheville. For Sharp, it’s a rarity these days for him to be able to sit back and enjoy the city he’s called home for the last 22 years.

Co-founder and de facto leader of the Steep Canyon Rangers, Sharp is at the center of one of the most enduring and cherished acts in the realms of Americana, bluegrass, and indie-folk — whether on its own merit or backing Steve Martin and Martin Short.

The Steep Canyon Rangers at the Western North Carolina retreat where they recorded ‘Morning Shift’ with Darrell Scott producing. Photo by Joey Seawell

At 46, Sharp has spent the majority of his adult life either on the road, onstage, or in the studio. And yet, like any endlessly restless and creatively curious musician worth one’s salt, Sharp feels like he’s just getting started.

“I’m the luckiest man on earth to be able to wake up in the morning and think, ‘I want to play banjo and write songs today,’” Sharp says. “Or am I going to get on a bus and go play some shows? That’s a good feeling to be excited about what you do — 25 years from now, I’ll probably be feeling the same way.”

What started as a rag-tag bunch of green horns jamming traditional bluegrass numbers in the dorms at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, has evolved into a bonafide group selling out venues coast-to-coast.

Throughout the Rangers’ history there’ve been awards and accolades, including three Grammy nominations and one win. There’s also been big stages (Red Rocks Amphitheatre, the Ryman Auditorium, Hollywood Bowl) and even bigger crowds (Bonnaroo, MerleFest, Hardly Strictly Bluegrass).

But, the core of the group resides in its unrelenting quest to dig deeper within itself to uncover another layer of sound and sonic possibility. Most recently, the band has gone through its biggest test to date, with the departure last year of founding member and arguably the gravitational center of the act, singer/guitarist Woody Platt, who decided to take a step back from the spotlight and focus on family.

“There’s a lot of things you can’t control and Woody leaving is a pretty good lesson in that fact that there’s only so much that you have influence over,” Sharp says. “And I’ve seen that with everybody [in the Rangers]. Everybody had worked hard, stepped up and defined their roles better in the band — just buckle down and push ahead.”

Fellow Western North Carolina singer-songwriter Aaron Burdett stepped into the fold to not necessarily replace Platt, but give the Rangers a new avenue to stride down, in terms of songwriting approaches and musical interpretations.

“We really tried to bring Aaron in to have another voice in there. I love having him as another writer,” Sharp says. “We both generate our own stuff and bounce ideas off of each other, where some of it feels like going back to the beginning [of the band] in the feeling.”

And with the Rangers’ latest album, Morning Shift, the sextet now finds itself at the dawn of a new, unwritten chapter of its continued trajectory as a group as sonically elusive as it is bountiful in its melodic pursuits.

“I don’t think you’d call it a chip on the shoulder,” Sharp says. “But, it feels like there’s just a drive we all have to just get better, to have more people hear what we’re doing — and we know what it takes to get there at this point.”

Hunkering down for a week in the off-the-beaten-path, unincorporated community of Bat Cave, North Carolina, the Rangers transformed a small mountain getaway into a makeshift studio. They also enlisted the help of Darrell Scott, the musical legend being tapped to produce the record.

“Darrell isn’t going to mince words — he’s pretty decisive,” Sharp says. “And Darrell spans all these [musical] worlds. He’s a monster picker and singer, and a great writer. We felt like he also comes from that bluegrass [scene], but also is outside of it, [like we are].”

 

What resulted is an album of genuine depth and stoic intent, renewal amid a reinvigorated sense of self. It’s a full-circle kind of thing, with the Steep Canyon Rangers not only reflecting on the past, but, more importantly, still chasing after that unknown horizon of artistic discovery. Our BGS interview with Sharp at Highland Brewing in Asheville continued with a conversation about the group’s changing lineup and dynamic.

It’s been a big year for you guys in a lot of ways — physically, sonically. What’s the dynamic right now? What’s kind of changed?

Graham Sharp: Well, what I’ve noticed is my default method [is] when things go weird, to just work harder.

There’s more of a round-robin feel in the band than before.

GS: Yeah. I get that. That’s what people say, that the dynamic reminds them of The Band, where there’s three or four different singers. And that was part of the deal, part of the thought process of, “Let’s take this role that’s the prototypical lead singer/guitar role and de-emphasize that.” Not totally strip it of everything, but the guitar player’s going to sing 40 or 50 percent of the songs. He’s not going to sing 80 percent of the songs. And part of that plays like a little bit of a safeguard, where if something happens with Aaron two years from now, we don’t want to be back in the same boat, where it’s like we’re losing a big hole out of the middle of the band.

Mandolinist Mike Guggino, in the studio recording the Steep Canyon Rangers’ ‘Morning Shift.’ Shot by Joey Seawell.

Like equally distributed weight now.

GS: Yeah. That’s kind of how we want it. And I think that’s what it needs to be. There’s a lot of talent in [the band] and maybe this is a chance to uncover some of it.

Not to take anything away from Woody and his contributions, but it feels more of a cohesive unit than I’ve ever seen it before.

GS: Isn’t that crazy? And that’s what people have been saying. I don’t know what that is except to say everybody’s stepping up and also making sure everybody else shines a little bit more.

I also wonder if that plays into more camaraderie in the band.

GS: Maybe. I mean, the band is a brotherhood. You couldn’t have more camaraderie than we have. But, that said, if people are feeling like their talents aren’t being put into full use – there’s one thing about being great friends and being brothers, but also on some kind of subconscious level, if you feel like there’s stuff that’s not being utilized, then maybe there’s something else you should be doing, you know?

And there’s maybe a reaffirming of gratitude for how far you guys have come.

GS: No doubt, man. That’s definitely one of the overwhelming things that has come out of this [latest chapter], is just gratitude to still be doing it — just keep going and keep doing it. [With Morning Shift], this record feels like a jumping off point.

The album also reinforces that elusive nature that’s always resided in the Rangers, where the last thing you ever want to be is pigeonholed, musically.

GS: Yeah. But, I love to play the banjo, so I don’t want to grow away from that. And [sometimes] I feel like my writing doesn’t always lend itself to the banjo. So, a lot of my stuff on the banjo ends up being able to figure out how you play to this weird song that doesn’t really call for banjo like a bluegrass song would — that’s part of the fun of [songwriting].

Aaron has now been in the band for a year. What’s surprised you the most about what he’s brought to the Rangers?

GS: We knew he was a great singer when we hired him, so that didn’t come as a surprise. When he sent us his demos, we knew this was our guy. But, the biggest surprise has been just how far apart our musical worlds are. He’s a very different musician than anybody we’ve had in the band. There’s things that he does in his own rhythm. He just has a different touch on the rhythm guitar.

Graham Sharp of the Steep Canyon Rangers recording ‘Morning Shift’ in studio. Photo by Joey Seawell.

There’s definitely a feeling of reinvigoration within the band. Almost 25 years into the Rangers, the band is still at the top of its game. But, playing devil’s advocate, I think there’s now other mountains you can see that you may want to climb?

GS: I think you’re right. I mean, as a band, you only have one introduction to the world. Maybe we were lucky because we got two, the other with Steve Martin. But, right now, it feels more like a collective up onstage. And I think that’s invaluable. Everybody is putting in the work. For example, I’ve always played banjo for a couple hours a day. But, maybe now, I play it for three hours a day. You’re just stepping things up, bringing things up a notch.

What really sticks out when you look back at the early years of the band, this handful of college kids learning to play bluegrass music?

GS: It was 1999. Somewhere in my junior or senior in college. It was myself, [former bassist] Charles [Humphrey] and Woody. Then, [mandolinist] Mike [Guggino] showed up later because he was Woody’s friend from Brevard, [North Carolina]. There was no ambition at the time. The ambition was really, “Let’s learn to play [bluegrass] so it sounds like it does on these records.”

New Grass Revival. [Russell Moore and] IIIrd Tyme Out. We never got to where we sounded like any of those bands. We could never sound like Lonesome River Band. But, take a little bit of this, take a little bit of that and go play onstage at bluegrass festivals. Go to Sears and get some clothes that match. And [a lot of the bluegrass] legends were still around and playing those festivals. Earl [Scruggs] was still around. John Hartford. Jimmy Martin. You know, when you’re young and rising, you’ve got all the momentum, all the buzz. And when you’re established and older, it’s different. Right now, we’re in this in-between period where it’s not newer and it’s not legacy. But, we’re not Billy Strings or Molly Tuttle, either. I still just love going out [there onstage] and proving it every single time — that feeling of doing what it takes to be our best each night.

All photos: Joey Seawell

LISTEN: Carley Arrowood, “Moondancer”

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Artist: Carley Arrowood
Hometown: Newton, North Carolina
Song: “Moondancer”
Release Date: October 27, 2023
Label: Mountain Home Music Company

In Their Words: “‘Moondancer’ tells the story of a Cherokee girl who sneaks out at night and is obsessed with capturing a wild white horse. I started writing it one evening several years ago after looking for arrowheads in my Mamaw’s garden, ironically around this time of year. As that chilly breeze blew, the line, ‘Her longing echoes on the breeze, but it never finds relief,’ just took root in my mind, and the girl’s repetitious, hopeless calling is what shaped the chorus and the rest of the tune. Eventually she learns to just love the horse she names from afar, but the deep longing in her heart still lingers as she realizes Moondancer can never be hers. I’m so grateful to Daniel, Nick, Tabitha, Jeff, and Tony for lending their talents, and to Jim and Clay for producing and mixing what has become one of my favorite tunes on my upcoming record.” – Carley Arrowood

Track Credits:

Carley Arrowood – fiddle, vocal
Daniel Thrailkill – acoustic guitar
Jeff Partin – acoustic bass, Dobro
Nick Dumas – mandolin
Tony Creasman – drums
Tabitha Benedict – banjo

Photo Credit: Laci Mack Photography

LISTEN: Volume Five, “You Don’t Care For Me Enough to Cry”

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Artist: Volume Five
Hometown: Booneville, Mississippi
Song: “You Don’t Care For Me Enough to Cry”
Release Date: October 10, 2023
Label: Mountain Fever Records

In Their Words: “When I first heard this song it was performed by the writer and artist John Moreland. He played the song with a finger picking style. I loved it so much that I learned to play it fingerstyle. I had planned to record it that way, but when we got to the studio and began arranging the song we actually liked it better as a full band sound. This is a very well written song. If you listen closely to the lyrics, I’m sure it will completely captivate you as it did me.” – Glen Harrell, fiddle

Photo Credit: Samantha Harrell

BGS 5+5: Lonesome Ace Stringband

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Artist: Lonesome Ace Stringband
Hometown: Toronto, Ontario, Canada
Latest Album: Try to Make it Fly

(Editor’s Note: Answers provided by Lonesome Ace Stringband banjoist Chris Coole.)

Which artist has influenced you the most … and how?

Although I think the answer for each of us individually would be different, I think the most obvious single influence on us as an ensemble would be John Hartford. Specifically, the last several albums he made with the “John Hartford Stringband” (which featured Bob Carlin and Mike Compton, among others). Their approach to playing old-time fiddle tunes, especially on the albums Wild Hog In the Red Brush and Speed of the Old Long Bow, was based on a highly improvised and reimagined way of playing backup that Hartford called “Windows.” Although it wasn’t a conscious decision, and we don’t follow the approach to the letter, I think the spirit of those albums really influenced the way we play and perform old-time music, especially (instrumental) fiddle tunes.

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

As a band, I think the art form outside of music that has had the biggest impact is the crank (prank) phone call. For years we’ve been listening to the Jerky Boys. We are old enough to remember the late ’80s and early ’90s when underground Jerky Boys cassette tapes were passed around organically and treasured by all who were lucky enough to possess them. About five years ago, the guys from The Henhouse Prowlers introduced us to Longmont Potion Castle, who has been anonymously releasing psychedelic crank calls since the ’80s (he’s still at it). You might think I’m being tongue in cheek when I say that these influence us as a band, but the attention to detail – especially in regard to language – and the level of improvisation are both relatable to music and inspiring. Most importantly though, it’s a great reminder that we live in a crazy world, and it’s best not to take yourself or anyone else too seriously.

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

We like to get our heart rates up before a show if possible and maybe a bit of stretching. This often involves us having an aerobics dance party to ’80s pop and new wave. “Betty Davis Eyes” by Kim Carnes is a favorite, as is “Dance Hall Days” by Wang Chung. [John] Showman favours doing some version of the “Mountain Climber” while Max [Heineman] and I are usually doing jumping jacks, dancing on the spot, or some sort of hippie clogging. Seeing three middle-aged men dancing around in the green room to The Pretenders or Blondie seems to warm the hearts of promoters and venue staff and there are probably bootlegged videos of us doing it circulating around.

If you had to write a mission statement for your career, what would it be?

The title of our new album is Try to Make it Fly. That is a line from one of the songs called “Sweeter Sound.” I’d say that song encapsulates what our mission as a band is. We are all in our 50s and have been playing music professionally (mostly full time) since we were teenagers. That song is about not giving up, even when everything might seem to be pushing you in the other direction. It’s about keeping sight of what’s important – community, friends, family, art – and letting the quality of those things in your life be the gauge of your success. With where we are in our lives and careers, that seems to be the only way forward.

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

There’s a song on the new album called “Smoke on the Shoulder” which is basically a recipe for smoking pork shoulder. We all love to cook and appreciate good food. We rarely miss a chance to stop at a good BBQ joint when tour routing allows. With this in mind, I’m going to say the food would be smoked brisket and pulled pork with sides of coleslaw, beans, and macaroni. The musical accompaniment to this meal would be provided by, none other than, George Jones.

Photo Credit: Joel Varjassy 

25 Years On, It’s Old Crow Medicine Show’s ‘Jubilee’

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Old Crow Medicine Show co-founder and frontman Ketch Secor is always busy. In September, Secor and flatpicking master Molly Tuttle co-hosted the Annual IBMA Bluegrass Music Awards, a brief respite from the ongoing national tour Secor and Old Crow are currently on. They hit the road earlier this year after releasing Jubilee, their latest record, celebrating 25 years as a band. With a few recent lineup changes, their energy is still fresh and exciting — and in this exclusive BGS interview, Secor explains that you really just have to see them live to fully understand and appreciate the bit.

This will be the second tour with the current lineup, right? What do you think will be different with touring Jubilee?

Ketch Secor: In typical Old Crow fashion, an 11th-hour lineup change occurred as we were putting the finishing touches on this album. We’ve hired two new players, and that’s Dante’ Pope on drums and piano, and PJ George as a utility player, so with these two additional players we have yet another iteration of Old Crow that has subtle differences from any other one we’ve had before. This kind of thing just makes it fun. That fluidity of the lineup has made it a lot more palatable — it’s still Flagstaff in the fall, but getting to see it with somebody who’s never been before, and getting to share the stage with people who bring out something new in you musically.

I feel like music for the old-time string band – and maybe this is the same for bluegrass – but music is really relational. It’s about who you’re with. I play different with different people. The pitcher isn’t gonna play differently because of who the shortstop is, but in a string band, the fiddler’s following a groove that the banjo sets, and if there’s a great mandolin player with chops then the fiddler is going to weave in and out of something differently.

How did you choose the guest appearances on this album, like Sierra Ferrell and Mavis Staples?

KS: That kind of thing just evolves. Making records in the 21st century, collaborations are what’s on the menu more so than when we were kids. We didn’t think about who was going to be the guests when we were kids. For Sierra, we thought that song needed something, and we realized it was a duet. I’d been sitting on that one for a couple years. I rewrote it as a duet, and we called the best woman to sing on a cock-fighting song — we called out to West Virginia.

Why are collaborations more necessary now?

KS: If I could be frank, it’s because labels are trying to do anything they can to sell albums. It adds to social media platforms. It increases the scope in ways that are much more specific to these times than just making great music. When Lita Ford came out with Ozzy Osbourne, that probably had a different purpose to it than it does today. Independent labels are taking a cue from hip-hop artists who experiment with this all the time. Bluegrass and old-time and traditional music tends to be 10 years behind those types of styles, so it makes sense that nowadays we’re all making collaborative contributions.

Were there any surprising or touching moments working with Willie Watson in the studio again? Was the chemistry there after 12 years?

KS: Yeah, I think that having Willie back is just important to the ethos of Old Crow Medicine Show, and celebrating its 25th anniversary. We’ve been working together since COVID on some things from live streams to concert appearances, and this was sort of the next frontier for Old Crow and Willie in burying the hatchet and making music together. When you’re in a 25-year-old band you get a lot of ex-boyfriends. Hindsight is 20/20, and I just know that nowadays it’s better to be back on stage together. 

How has your fiddling changed over the years? What are some of the areas you focus on when you practice? Old-time is known for being scrubby, but there’s a lot more going on there.

KS: Well, it’s changed over the years as I’ve gotten to be a lot better and gutsier as a violin player. I play it harder and stronger and faster than I did when I was 18 when I learned. For 25 or some years it’s been my dance partner. At the quarter century mark as a violin player, I feel like I know my partner well. I know where to take it, where on the neck to go. I know how to get the sounds that I’m looking for.

But I’m not a player who practices. My practice is just playing 95 concerts a year for 25 years and making 15 records in that period of time and being a special guest on 50 other records. I’ve grown up like a plant in the window when it comes to my violin playing. I see where the light is and I’ve grown towards it, and it’s bushier and brighter than it used to be when I was just a little twig. It just keeps growing all the time, but it’s not because I’m changing anything. There’s no additive to the soil.

You play old-time, but do you ever try other genres?

KS: I’ve played a few jazz gigs, but it’s not what I do well. I listen to all manner of songs. As a fiddle player, I like to think about all of the music that I’m channeling into the way I play, and a lot of it is traditional fiddle music, but a lot of it’s not. I feel like there’s Public Enemy and Nirvana and Bosco and the Carter Family, and other things that are not fiddle playing in my playing. But mostly what there is in my fiddle playing is mileage. It’s experience. It’s rust. It’s calcified. That’s the case with people who’ve played music for a lifetime. They get better not because they’re doing something different, but because they’re doing the same thing again and again. 

You mentioned that folk music should be topical — not kept in a museum case. Do you think that kind of folk has a special place in the world right now given the political and economic hard times we’ve been seeing?

KS: I think that anybody who’s making genuine art has a reflection of the world around in that work. We the artists are sort of like poetic mirrors of what we see. There’s lot of songs now that reflect the discord, either in a lamentation or in a protest or in just a pure reflection. My music tends to talk about the plight of the people who are most associated with this music, so that can be the people of the Southern Highlands. It can be the hardship of the African American co-inventors of this music. But I’m also a real vessel for global topics, and I say that because when I read the news it’s almost like it starts riding on my back. So I’m thinking about flood waters in Libya and earthquakes in Morocco and school shootings in Nashville. To me they’re all part of a human struggle to find peace in the world. 

What change do you hope comes about from songs like “Allegheny Lullaby?” How do people take that sentiment and make it actionable?

KS: That’s a song about a limitation of choice. That’s a matter of equity or inequity. So the equitable solution is: More choice. It’s widening the spectrum of options for people who live in the coal district, and that’s a very doable action item. It’s just a hard thing to do and live the exact same way, without a change in economics, but that’s the story of the American people. We adapt. And so I think the natural adaptation cycle in the Southern Highlands is in flux right now because of some strident efforts to hold it back. The results of those actions are that you got an opioid epidemic, a fentanyl epidemic — so many dysfunctions. I’m looking forward to the people eventually standing up and getting what they need. I wouldn’t put it past the people to get that. They got it before. They unionized in those situations and fought for livable wages, and they can do it again.

You talk a lot about nature, like mountains and feral critters, in your music. Is that an intentional part of folk or where does that come from?

KS: When I think about what made [American music] so rich, I know it’s the land and the soil and the people and the stories. So to evoke the same is just a natural link in the chain forged anew. And that’s all I’m doing. I’m just singing about the rivers that mean something to me when I sing them. I don’t think you’re ever going to get tired of thinking about the Big Sandy River, no matter if it’s clean or dirty. It’s called the Big Sandy, doesn’t that sound like freedom? 

What do you hope listeners will take away from this album?

KS: You know, we make music because we’re a live band. We make albums because we’re a live act. Come and see us. If you like this record, go buy a ticket. We’re coming to your town; we have for a quarter of a century. We loved you then, and we love you even more now. And if you hear something on this record you like, then that’s just one more reason to come buy that ticket and see us when we come to your community and make a unique and special community in yours for one night. This is an age-old P.T. Barnum routine. The hat is magic, the ring is heavenly. Once you gaze on what lies behind the curtain, you will be dazzled. That’s where the magic is. The album is a big arrow.

Photo Credit: Joshua Black Wilkins