Interviewed by His Daughter, Mac McAnally Recounts a ‘Lifetime’ in Music

Mac McAnally is a highly-decorated and prolific multi-instrumentalist, producer, songwriter, and artist. He tours with Jimmy Buffett’s Coral Reefer Band, plays on countless sessions in Nashville and Muscle Shoals, and produces a number of independent artists, too. But more important to me, he’s my dad. And he’s a great one. On the occasion of the release of his new album, Once in a Lifetime, we discuss guitars, bluegrass, moments of social change, why he covered a Beatles song, and the process of making this record amidst a pandemic. And though I get to talk to him most days of my life, it is heartening to hear him put a fine point on his eternal optimism.

BGS: Growing up, music was constant in the house and one of the most pervasive cover songs you played was “Norwegian Wood.” What do you think it is about that song that sticks in your craw and drew you to record it?

Mac McAnally: As you know, I’ve always loved that song. In the very first line, from a lyric standpoint, “I once had a girl/Or should I say/She once had me,” you can tell any story in the world after that. That is something that I subconsciously try to do and have since the beginning.

Specifically, why I recorded it is because I bought an octave mandolin about four years ago. I did a show with Sarah Jarosz and she had one and let me play it and I thought, “I am going to have to get me one of these.” I always feel like I have to do something to justify the purchase so I play it on as many sessions as I can to try to amortize the cost, but I also came up with this new way to play it that is kind of a cool arrangement that I’ve never heard. I don’t in any way challenge the Beatles version and don’t mean any disrespect; I’m trying to find ways to justify the guilt of buying an octave mandolin.

On almost every record that you’ve made there’s a nod to bluegrass, like “Brand New Broken Heart” on this record. Who are some of your biggest bluegrass influences?

I have to preface this by saying I am a bluegrass fan, I am not a bluegrass player. Anything that I might be doing would just be trying to pay homage to what the greats can do. I’ve gotten to play with some of them, which I count high among the blessings of my life. When I wrote “Brand New Broken Heart,” I envisioned I would someday pitch it to Ricky Skaggs or Dailey & Vincent. I recorded it because I was a lazy song plugger who never pitched it to anybody.

Doc Watson was one of mine and my dad’s heroes. He was sort of my intro to real bluegrass. And all the way through my life, Emmylou Harris. We played her songs in bands when I was a teenager. Bryan Sutton is just frighteningly good. I can’t even fathom what he is doing, let alone try to do it myself. He inspires me to go get a pick out and play differently than I play because I love so much of what he does. And I’m crazy about I’m With Her.

What brought about recording “Changing Channels” for this record?

I have always loved that song. It is the second song that Jimmy (Buffett) and I wrote together. We wrote it in one my favorite places I have ever been. He had a spot down in Thomasville, Georgia, with a big porch. As you know I’m a porch guy. We sat out on the porch and wrote that song. He did a great version of it on Off the See the Lizard and I honestly never imagined myself cutting it but I love to play it. It has worked its way into my shows over the last ten years and his fan base will come up after and ask which one of my records the song is on. They had cash out trying to buy it and I don’t have it. You know better than anybody how terrible of a businessman I am, but eventually enough people tried to buy a version of it that I listened.

You have collected a lot of guitars, and in various ways: some saved from landfills, some gifted, some cast for you by friends and colleagues. How do you pick which guitars make your records?

It is certainly not an exact science but sometimes it is the guitar that the song came out of. The main thing that has always made me select guitars is if I think they have songs in them. I would happen to be holding them and a couple of my stories got mashed with them. In more cases than not, if I wrote a song on a guitar, that’s the one I’ll record. You end up learning over the years. In the same way when you are photographing someone, you learn what the best side of their face is. … A Gibson with dead strings is an awesome rock ‘n’ roll rhythm guitar. A Martin with new strings is an awesome fingerpicking guitar.

We are in a moment of social change. Music has the power to both inspire and record change. You moved to the Shoals in the ‘70s. Thinking back on those early days in the studio, what was it like in those moments?

Playing music in Muscle Shoals was extremely encouraging from the standpoint of equality. They didn’t really think of it in terms of race. Music transcended that. And I love that. And I still love that. I’m standing in Muscle Shoals right now proud to be part of that. You can be encouraged on some levels and discouraged on some levels and I am both of those things. I haven’t in my life ever thought that I was better or worse than anybody else and I look forward to that being a more prevalent vantage point for everyone.

I want to challenge you on that a bit. One of your dear friends and longtime collaborators, Ralph MacDonald, told you that he never felt comfortable coming to Muscle Shoals and we’ve heard from more folks that it wasn’t an inviting place to come collaborate, so a lot of those musicians opted for Detroit or Miami. With that added perspective, does it make you feel differently about the time?

Absolutely, it makes me more aware of the context. As I said, Muscle Shoals would have been advanced in terms of racial relations in the music community in the South. As I look back now, I realize that doesn’t mean it was great. It was just better relative to the surroundings.

Ralph and I, we were like brothers. He told me he would’ve been scared to death of a big red-headed dude from Mississippi. And he was a Black man from Harlem. I could not have imagined that we would connect on as many levels as we did. We both had misconceptions that got better. He was one of my heroes. He was one of the best percussionists that ever played. And I loved him. It is hard to get into racial discussions without stirring stuff up. But we made each other better. Music is one of the best ways to bridge across preconceptions. I think it’ll play a big part of getting us the rest of the way home. ‘Cause we ain’t there yet.

Stirring stuff up is the way we make progress.

That’s true and they are not easy discussions. I don’t think of myself as someone with prejudices, but when I think back, some of the things I laughed at growing up as a kid in Mississippi I’m embarrassed of. And I was mainly laughing because everyone around me was laughing, but when I think of what it was we were laughing at, it is embarrassing. I don’t really want to talk about it, I just want to be a better person, because I know it was wrong. But you are right. Talking about it is better. Air it out.

What does it feel like to release an album in a pandemic?

Well, not speaking ill of either thing, but I hope it is a one-time thing. I hope I never have to try to beat a pandemic album with a second pandemic album. My records are normally made in what I call “the cracks of time.” I make them in the cracks of my schedule because I work full-time as a Coral Reefer, a fair amount of time as a session musician for other people, writing songs for other people and producing other folks. But because of the circumstance of this record, it is really special to me because I got to sit and think about what I felt was important and what was not. I wouldn’t wish a pandemic on the world just to get extra time to make my record. I think maybe next time I’ll just take the time on my own.

Even in your darkest lyrics, there is a balance that shows your shining optimism. We are surrounded by a heavy dose of dark right now. Are you feeling optimistic?

Absolutely. I absolutely am. I wish we weren’t where we are right now and that everyone could see that it is better to find a way to coexist than it is to hate one another. I’m not someone who has any room for hate. As you recall, I don’t even like the word. I’ve probably pestered you about it for your entire life. Actual hate hurts me. We’ve been celebrating the life of John Lewis the last few weeks and John is a great example of figuring out a way to make it better by not hating the people who hated him. I think things are going to get better and I intend to try to help.


Erin McAnally is a regular contributor to The Bluegrass Situation

Photo Credit: Jeff Fasano

BGS 5+5: Crary, Evans & Barnick

Artist: Crary, Evans & Barnick
Hometown: Placerville, California
Latest Album: Prime Time
Personal nicknames (or rejected band names): Three Old White Guys in a Folk Trio

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

Mark Twain said the two most important days in your life are the day you’re born and the day you discover why. For me it was the day in 1952 (I was 12) when I turned on the radio and accidentally heard Don Sullivan, a Kansas City hillbilly country singer on his noon hour live radio show sing twangy songs and play the steel-string guitar. The sound of the guitar that day struck me like something straight from God. I didn’t even know what it was, but I knew I wanted to play one, to hear more of that beautiful noise. — Dan Crary

My life’s direction pretty much came into focus on February 9, 1964, when I was seven years old. After watching the Beatles’ first live U.S. television appearance, the world wasn’t the same for me after that moment. I went to school on that Monday morning knowing that I would be a musician someday. — Bill Evans

During my year spent with the Mobile Riverine Resources/USN/9th Infantry Division Mekong Delta ’68-69, I met a fellow who had purchased a Hi-Fidelity component stereo system from the PX. He set it up in his hootch. He had pals stateside who were mailing him “care packages” containing the latest vinyl LPs by the boxful. Buffalo Springfield, Jeff Beck, Cream, the Doors, etc. When we thought the coast was clear, we’d load up a “bowl” and then listen to those great sounds coming out of those three-way speakers and the music would take us to another place. I did not play any instrument at that time, but I knew right then that I wanted to figure out how to play. All I had to do was get home in one piece. I did, and once stateside I latched on to the bass guitar and have not ever let it go… over 50 years now. — Wally Barnick

Which artist has influenced you the most – and how?

Musicians who were influential: 1) Fritz Kreisler: When I was 5 years old, about 1945 (!) my mom and grandma took me to a concert in the Kansas City Music Hall of violinist Fritz Kreisler. I never forgot it, it’s like yesterday. 2) Bud Hunt, old-time banjo and guitar guy on The Brush Creek Follies, a ’50s Kansas City country music show. My old Webcor wire recorder caught him one night playing “Wildwood Flower.” I had never heard anything like that, changed my life forever. 3) Sabicas, Segovia, Doc Watson: Their brilliant performances made me want to get serious. 4) The Stanley Brothers: Sheer, stunning beauty for the ages. — Dan

I’ve been playing professionally now for over forty years and the people who have had the most influence on me are those who I’ve gotten to know through playing and touring with them in bands or getting to know them as personal friends: folks like Ron Thomason of Dry Branch Fire Squad, Tony Trischka, Alan Munde, Jim Nunally in California and, most of all, Sonny Osborne. And I’ll count Dan and Wally in this group too — I admire what they have both accomplished in their lives and my respect and love for the both of them knows no limits. — Bill

How often do you hide behind a character in song or use “you” when it’s actually “me”?

Seems like they’re all about me, at least the ones about trying to get it right and loving my lady. — Dan

I’m a composer of instrumental tunes, not songs with lyrics. Often, I set out an assignment for myself in order to get the process started, such as composing a melody over a particularly challenging chord progression or modulation, or something that has an Irish flavor, such as “Winston’s Jig” on Prime Time. In this way, I’m assuming a kind of another identity, most definitely. I feel that way about it, at any rate. — Bill

It is typical that I select and attempt singing songs that mean something to me, even when they are written by someone else. So the short answer is… I sing every song like I mean it, as if it’s mine and as if I’m telling my story. — Wally

What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?

In the ’80s a French festival promoter told me on the phone that Byron Berline and John Hickman and I were, because we worked as a trio, “not real bluegrass.” Then, about three days later we three were onstage playing “Gold Rush” to a few thousand fans at the KFC festival in Louisville. Suddenly, with no advance notice, Bill Monroe himself walked on stage with a big smile, sat down with us and we all played the rest of the set together. At one point Bill announced to that audience that, except for his own Blue Grass Boys, we were his #1 favorite bluegrass band! If I live to be a thousand…. — Dan

That’s tough to narrow down to just one memory. Perhaps the most musically revelatory moment for me on stage was hosting an evening in Berkeley at the Freight & Salvage Coffeehouse around the year 2000 with J. D. Crowe, David Grisman, Ron Block, Ron Stewart, Alan Senauke, and Missy Raines. It was an amazing thing to hear Crowe and Grisman experience the groove they created together on stage. Ron Block, who played guitar that night, commented to me after our show had ended that he had never felt such intense rhythm and awareness of musical space on any stage before. Musicians talk about how powerful a player J. D. is and I was lucky to actually experience it very intensely by being on stage with him. — Bill

Probably the first time that I performed a Cream song (“Sunshine of Your Love”) and I discovered that I could sing and play it, remembering all the lyrics and changes, and the (bar) crowd loved it! — Wally

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

Today I will try to be worthy of the guitar. — Dan

Giving back what’s been given to me and giving more, in whatever way that I can. — Bill

If it ain’t fun, skip it. — Wally


Photo credit: Nola Barnick

BGS 5+5: Jaime Wyatt

Artist: Jaime Wyatt
Hometown: Fox Island/Gig Harbor, Washington
Latest Album: Neon Cross
Personal nicknames (or rejected band names): My family and close friends call me James

Which artist has influenced you the most … and how?

Gram Parsons is one of the most influential artists for my life and creativity. I identify deeply with Gram: He was a hippie who was obsessed with country as well as soul and his original music was a perfect blend of genres, incorporating vintage and modern influences. I try not to make a perfectly vintage sounding country song, as I feel like I’d rather listen to the classics than listen to a straight reproduction.

What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?

I toured with Wheeler Walker Jr. as support and during a set in Los Angeles, a man screamed, “Jaime, I wanna have your baby!”

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

For both pre-show and pre-recording sessions, I do yoga, meditate, go for a jog and do some mat exercises, vocal warm-ups and then crack a Coca-Cola and smoke a cigarette and pace until I hit the stage, or pick up a guitar and pace around with the guitar.

What’s the toughest time you ever had writing a song?

Many many times for many many songs. For me, following the melody is very important and it should lead the lyrics. I write mostly in my head then bring to an instrument, so a lot of songs come to me while I’m sleeping, driving, meditating or walking outside.

Just a Woman” almost didn’t make the record, because I did not want to risk comprising the potential of that song. I felt I was representing women with that one, which might be a total lie, but I did not want to fail all of womankind, by making the lyrics cheesy. I finished the bridge right before we tracked the song with the band. I heard a major/minor Beatles thing when I woke up that morning and was blessed enough for that melody to return to me while I was outside pacing in the courtyard. Then I finished the second verse maybe one hour before the final recording session.

How often do you hide behind a character in a song or use “you” when it’s actually “me”?

I’d say 50 to 60 percent of the time. I’ve done this to hide that I’m gay or that I don’t want anyone I know to know how I feel and I’ve done it to give a wider demographic of people the opportunity to connect to a song.


Photo credit: Magdalena Wosinska

BGS 5+5: Lowland Hum

Artist: Lowland Hum
Hometown: Charlottesville, Virginia
Latest album: Glyphonic (out May 10, 2019)

What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?

Last year we were opening a run of shows for The Oh Hellos and something surprising took place at the Columbus, Ohio, performance. It’s a regular part of our show to invite the audience to interact if they so choose and that particular audience was extremely participatory. Throughout our show they were super engaged and communicative and towards the end, someone yelled out, “Have you ever crowd surfed?!” I (Daniel) used to be in a rock band for a number of years so I said, “Well, yes, but not in this band,” to which he replied, “Do you want to?” We laughed and then we played our second to last song.

As the final note of that song lingered in the air, the crowd started chanting “CROWD SURF, CROWD SURF, CROWD SURF” with increasing volume. I turned to Lauren and handed her my guitar. I walked toward the crowd as they continued chanting and then stepped to the edge of the stage, turned backward and fell into their arms. The crowd went wild and began passing me around the room. Because our band is a duo and half the band was in the crowd during this, there was no music accompanying this rock and roll moment.

After a while, I cried, “To the stage” and the crowd passed me pack up toward the front of the room. Then a burly security guard grabbed me with one hand and threw me gently back on stage where I landed on my feet. Lauren informed me that I looked at her with delight on my face and said, “I feel so serene.” I think we are probably the quietest band that has ever had an experience like that. It was a glorious evening for us both. Thank you, Columbus.

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

When approaching the studio, we generally designate an amount of time where we will stay in a place/mode of operating that we refer to as “yes town.” In “yes town” all ideas are explored and we don’t allow editing or assessing. This openness to any and all ideas gives even partially formed notions the space they need to come to fruition. At a certain point, we then shift into editorial mode and we are able to more clearly identify which elements of a song or arrangement belong in the final version of the recording.

Before shows we often make a cup of black tea and try to find a place to sit outside or by a window to have a bit of slow presence. We read in an essay recently that human beings are not meant to move through space at any speed other than walking and when we do, it takes time for our full selves to arrive at the place where we are physically present. This idea resonates with us and I think the tea ritual is our way of trying to allow our minds to catch up with our bodies and realize where we are on any given night of a tour.

Which artist has influenced you the most … and how?

We can’t answer which artist has influenced us most, but we’ve been consistently inspired by Devon Sproule the last few years. Her ability to approach songwriting with a profound gravity while maintaining a sense of wonder and rigorous exploration is both refreshing and challenging. We are taken with the imagery she shares in her songs, the playful arrangements on her recordings and her unaffected, evocative vocal performances. Devon reminds us to pay close attention and to stretch out and try reaching into unknown spaces sonically and thematically.

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

Our creative process has always been inspired by literature, film and visual art ever since the early days of Lowland Hum, leading to multiple songs exploring the work and life of Toulouse Lautrec and a mildly jealous lyric about Andrew Wyeth catching Lauren’s eye, but more recently, Lauren created a music video featuring the work of an incredibly gifted dancer named Edward Villella. The video is a visual companion for our song, “Slow,” using imagery from “Reflections In Space,” and “Mystery of Space.” “Reflections In Space” is a film by Bernard Beane, Philip Courter and Harold M. Weiner, that features the interpretive dance of Edward Villella and the work of other visual artists inspired by outer space. Whenever we encounter the creative explorations of other people, we notice that new spaces in our minds open up.

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

When I (Daniel) was 12 years old, my granddad took me to a local CD store in Greensboro, North Carolina, where I grew up and told me I could select any album and he’d buy it for me. For some reason, I picked out the Beatles’ White Album as my selection, probably because it included two CDs and I thought I was being clever. I became obsessed with it. As an extremely sensitive kid who felt emotions strongly. Somehow the songs made me feel empathized with and soothed, and I had never had that experience with music before. This obsession led me to begin writing songs in the weeks and months following that trip to the CD store. My mom is a fan of those early, angsty, preteen musings, but she’s the only one.


Photo credit: Serena Jae

BGS 5+5: Dharmasoul

Artist: Dharmasoul (Jonah Tolchin & Kevin Clifford)
Hometown: Princeton, NJ
Latest Album: Lightning Kid 
Rejected Band Names: Dankasaurus

What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?

Kevin: My favorite memory from being onstage is a tie between playing New Orleans Jazz Fest with the Loyola Jazz Band in 2012 and when an entire audience sang happy birthday to my mom at a show in New Orleans.

Jonah: One of my favorite memories of being on stage was on a tour with Chuck Prophet in Europe a few years ago. We were playing a small festival in Belgrade, Serbia. I was playing a song that’s on our new record solo acoustic (“Addiction”), and the audience was more enthusiastic than I had ever experienced in a room of strangers. It was moving to me to feel that kind of love in a foreign land.

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

Kevin: Since you can fail at what you don’t love to do, you might as well try doing what you love to. If I can’t dance to my own groove, no one is going to be dancing. Serve the music!

Jonah: I resonate with the concept of the Bodhisattva. It is my intention to bring this principle of serving my community and all people and life everywhere so that we — myself included — can wake up from forgetfulness and create a better world for all life forms generations to come. I think music has the power to do that.

If you could spend 10 minutes with John Lennon, Dolly Parton, Hank Williams, Joni Mitchell, Sister Rosetta, or Merle Haggard how would it go?

Kevin: I would try desperately to record a jam session with Sister Rosetta.

Jonah: Definitely John Lennon. I’d like to write a song with him … or maybe play a game. Like ping pong.

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

Kevin: Fried oyster and shrimp po-boy with a hurricane and the Soul Rebels Brass Band

Jonah: I’m gonna go with something I’m looking forward to, which is being at Jazz Fest in NOLA next month eating gumbo and watching three of the most badass women known to music all on the same day — Aretha Franklin, Bonnie Raitt, and Lucinda Williams.

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

Kevin: It had to have been when I saw School of Rock and became obsessed with all the music from that movie. Also, when my Uncle Bill in Chicago gave me my first drum lesson and taught me some Joe Morello licks and a 4/4 Beatles rock beat.

Jonah: I’m honestly not quite sure. As soon as I started playing, at around 13, I don’t think there were any other options for me. Two years later, when I was 15, I met Ronnie Earl at a music store, and he invited me to play on stage with him at the Tupelo Music Hall in New Hampshire. That was a big, reinforcing moment. I didn’t take the SAT in high school because I knew this was my path … I’ve been doing it ever since.

The Cream of Four Crops: A Conversation with Lake Street Dive’s Mike “McDuck” Olson

Lake Street Dive rather famously borrows a little bit from a lot of things. At times exuding an old school R&B vibe, at others a bright pop sound, their music is equal parts the Beatles and Motown, with a bit of brassy big band thrown in for good measure. Where that kind of uncategorized approach might sound messy — even noisy — under another band’s thumb, Lake Street Dive doesn’t lose track of their identity, even as they pepper it with myriad influences.

The classically trained four-piece includes guitarist and trumpeter Mike “McDuck” Olson, upright bassist Bridget Kearney, drummer Mike Calabrese, and vocalist Rachael Price, whose bluesy alto grounds whatever musical path the band explores. Lake Street Dive is set to release their third studio album and Nonesuch Records debut,  Side Pony,  on February 19. Produced by Dave Cobb (Jason Isbell, Sturgill Simpson), the album involves new risks — like challenging time signatures — alongside the jazzy approach to pop the band has played heretofore. It’s a step forward for the band but, as Olson explains, not a new direction.

I’ve got to ask: Where does the nickname “McDuck” come from?

Oh, it’s an old college nickname. I had mono when I moved into the dorms [at the New England Conservatory of Music] my first year, so instead of being friendly and looking to make new friends like Mike Calabrese was, I told everyone to go away and leave me alone while I got better. I earned the nickname "Scrooge McDuck." Fortunately, the McDuck is the only part that stuck.

Stephen Colbert took a liking to your sound when he hosted The Colbert Report, and he recently invited you back to play The Late Show . What was it like performing for Colbert again?

It was sort of a double-whammy return because Colbert’s show is in the Ed Sullivan Theater, which is also the theater that Letterman taped out of, so it was cool because it was kind of like playing Colbert on steroids. It was also cool to be back in that theater that we had done the Letterman show in. It had been redecorated, and a lot of the same crew people are still working the show, so it was nice to see some of those guys again. It’s fun, too, because we’re not quite as nervous as we used to get, although we’re not completely immune to it. I’d say that I don’t have the same mind-numbing terror going on TV that we used to when we did the first Colbert taping.

One of Side Pony ’s singles, “Call Off Your Dogs,” shows an interesting approach to meter and rhythm compared to the band’s earlier work. Where are you drawing that inspiration from?

The main riff, which is in 3/4 time, came out of Bridget’s fascination with … it’s sort of two-fold. She spent some time in Africa studying music from Ghana and she studied abroad in Morocco as a college student, combined with a bass player’s innate love of Motown bass lines a la the Jackson 5. The composition, in its first version, was all in 3 and had a trickier rhythmic framework.

Then, when we went into the studio to record it, Dave Cobb didn’t encourage us to stay tricky. He’s someone for whom pop music is candy, and he encouraged us to keep some of the trickier musical elements because that’s interesting for people who are in tune with that, but then say, "Okay, if you’re going to have the tricky 3/4 verses, we gotta go into 4/4 on the choruses." Because that’s what’s going to get people up and dancing — that’s the fist pumping. So it was a combination of this sort of studiousness on Bridget’s part, and kind of the polar opposite lack of studiousness on Dave’s part that made us combine those two elements in the studio.

The way the verses and chorus oscillate back and forth with one another, rhythmically, is so interesting. It took me a second to wrap my head around what was happening when I heard it.

It’s nice, too, because we’ve been playing with the disco thing. On its own, the disco thing is very dated. If you release a song that has a straight-down-the-pike disco feel in the drums and guitar parts, it immediately makes people think, "Oh great, leisure suits, the light-up dance floors." Stuff like that. We were reticent to do something that was so derivative of one specific thing just because we don’t like to pigeonhole ourselves. So to blend something so immediately identifiable as disco with something that’s a little bit more intellectual made us feel better about using both elements in the same song.

Speaking about elements, the band rather famously deals in many sounds and influences. How do you keep everything from becoming too chaotic, either in a song or across an album?

I think part of it is that we aren’t necessarily, you know, we’re not studio musicians. If someone needs a country track or someone needs a disco track or someone needs a straight-up Motown track recorded for someone’s record, they’ll call people who are skillful in recreating those styles faithfully. We just aren’t that good at recreating something verbatim and, fortunately, that has worked in our favor. We have our idiosyncrasies that we, if not fall back on, then are actually very comfortable in. So it’s sort of like we’re filtering all of these omnivorous style dalliances through this far more narrow Lake Street Dive sort of sieve. It’s also what we enjoy doing and what we think is fun, what parts we think are most fun to play, and those end up smoothing out the edges of something that is more rigidly stylistic.

Well, that’s what makes it so interesting. I’ll listen to a song and pick out three or four influences, but under your umbrella as Lake Street Dive, it all comes together in this new way. It isn’t chaotic, but in another band’s hands, it could easily devolve into a mess.

Well, sometimes it feels like a mess, but I’m glad it’s not coming across that way.

In your composing or songwriting process, is it the four of you together banging something out, or does someone bring up an idea first?

The kernels for a song idea will come in from an individual. All four of us are pretty avid and voluminous songwriters. It can be something as simple as a hook or, in the case of “Call Off Your Dogs,” a rhythm and a bass line. Or it can be a completely realized song with the lyrics, the form, the solos, all this stuff written out. When it comes to the band for the purposes of learning, that’s when the arranging takes place or, in the case of the studio, we did end up doing a lot of writing together, but it all came from a kernel someone had come up with on their own. We don’t sit around and bang out ideas, you know, staring at each other awkwardly across acoustic guitars. That has never been our method.

Isn’t that how the best songs have been written? Awkwardly staring at someone?

[Laughs] Isn’t that how the Lennon/McCartney thing worked? I don’t know. It’s not for us.

So then, from your perspective, what kind of subject matter interests you as a songwriter?

We tend to use pretty familiar pop tropes as, at least, a starting point. We’re not going out on too many limbs here with subject matter, you know; we’re not writing protest songs. It all boils down to love in one way or another, either found or lost. There’s already been 80 years of pop music based on love found and lost. It’s a pretty deep well and, as far as we’re concerned, it’s not been exhausted yet. Until it is, we’re going to keep writing love songs.

It just so happens to be this quirky perspective, which distinguishes you from the major songwriters focused on that very subject.

It is about finding your filter that you want to apply. It’s not satisfying as songwriters — nor is it satisfying to listeners — to hear a song that’s the same kind of lens. They’re all love songs, but they can be viewed through talking about love as self-examination in the modern era — like “Self Portraits” talking about selfies and things like that. It can be sort of veiled and derived through the study of classic Beatles songs, like “You Go Down Smooth” is. As students of music, we enjoy challenging ourselves and each other to come up with as many different ways to explore this well-trodden subject matter, because it’s just more interesting for us that way, and we’re in it for the long game, too. Shame on us if we let it get boring.

If you’re talking about filters, my takeaway is that yours tends to be much more intelligent than what the average love song purports itself to be.

I hope so, but it’s also … it’s an extremely luxurious position to be in with four songwriters in the band, because we all write. We’re not like Carole King who went into the office everyday and, as a professional songwriter, generated hit after hit after hit. All four of us, we have our hits and our misses, but because there are four of us, we have a lot more hits to choose from. We tend to scrape off the very best from the top, which is awesome because it also means that listening back on previous records you don’t hear songs of yours that you absolutely hate. It’s the cream of the crop — the cream of four crops.

Turning to Side Pony, what’s the shape of that new album compared to your last two studio releases?

Thematically, the hope is that it’s the next step. In that, it’s the next step in the evolution of the band and the four of us as individuals and songwriters. There are hopefully bigger risks being taken, hopefully there are unexpected things, there are stylistic departures. But it’s not a new direction. I think that it’s easy to play a track that relies on disco and think, "Oh, this is going to be a new direction for Lake Street Dive." Never, at any point, did we go into this process and say to ourselves, "Let’s do something new." The thought was more like, "Let’s do something better than last time." Not that last time was bad, just that we always hope to improve upon what we’ve done. That’s the key to longevity, of course.

Genre really does matter in terms of being able to categorize and market a band, but you’ve very proudly remained what I’ve read Bridget describe as "genre-less." Why do you think you’ve been so successful when you’re not necessarily following the formula?

I think the short answer is that we have managed to play successful shows for a really diverse array of audiences over the years and have been able to build a fan base, essentially, wherever we go. We’ve had a lot of luck as openers for bigger bands, and those bigger bands have been a very wide range of artists. We opened for Josh Ritter for a couple of months a few years back, we opened for the Yonder Mountain String Band, we opened for a surf rock band called Los Straitjacketes, which wears luchador masks on stage.

There was a trend: We would be sitting at the merch table after opening for these other bands, and their fans — from one show to the next — consistently we would hear, "Hey that was pretty good." These people that came for something completely different, we somehow managed to keep their attention through our set, sell them merch, and get their names on our email list, and the next time we came to town, they would come back. You can see the music you like in Lake Street Dive. I hope that is what it is, because if not, I don’t really have any other answer.


Photos courtesy of the artist

3×3: Jerry Douglas on the Beatles, the Boogie, and the Mystery of Vanilla

Artist: Jerry Douglas
Hometown: Nashville, TN
Latest Album: The Earls of Leicester, Three Bells
Nicknames: Flux, Uncle Flux (Earls of Leicester), Uncle Jez (Mumford and Sons)

 

Boston, we are here!

A photo posted by Earls of Leicester (@earlsofl) on

What was the first record you ever bought with your own money?
The Beatles' Penny Lane. Gave it to my girlfriend, Charlene Ryan, in third grade.

If money were no object, where would you live and what would you do?
I would live in the Scottish Highlands and be a Bots Dots inspector.

If your life were a movie, which songs would be on the soundtrack?
1. "Hello Stranger" (Carter Family)
2. "Pop-a-Top (Again)"  (Jim Ed Brown)
3. "'Til the End of the World Rolls Round" (Flatt & Scruggs)

 

Set list from today at Floyd Fest. Thank you for all who came out!

A photo posted by Earls of Leicester (@earlsofl) on

What brand of jeans do you wear?
Levi's

What's your go-to karaoke tune?
"I Love the Night Life (I Want to Boogie)"

What's your favorite season?
Autumn

Kimmel or Fallon?
Fallon

Jason Isbell or Sturgill Simpson?
Isbell

Chocolate or vanilla?
Chocolate — even though sometimes vanilla is very mysterious.