Last week, Austin City Limits released an excellent bluegrass performance from their Austin City Limits Celebrates 50 Years broadcast, which debuted on April 4 on PBS. Mandolinist Sierra Hull and guitar phenom Billy Strings appeared on the special ACL show, performing a classic bluegrass number, “Midnight on the Stormy Deep,” a traditional song that entered the bluegrass canon via Bill Monroe himself. (Watch above.) It’s a popular duet, whether at jam sessions or on stage, and in this iteration finds the forward-thinking pair of Hull and Strings employing more retro sounds. Both are adept at these tones and textures, but tend to opt for more envelope-pushing picking on their own songs and creations. It’s lovely to hear both players in a bit more reserved a setting, with moments of star power shining through their tasteful playing and careful listening.
It’s striking how crisp, clean, and precise Hull and Strings render the song, but the grit and gristle that we tend to associate with bluegrass – and that “high lonesome sound” – are evident, certainly not in short supply. Hull’s solos are playful with zany touches and bluesy licks. Strings holds down the resonant lead vocal part while Hull adds the high harmony, both singing the lyric entirely in duet, because that’s how it goes! Strings pulls hard through his own solo with his signature confidence and boldness, while reminding his listeners how pivotal an influence Doc Watson has been across his career.
Hull and Strings are no strangers to collaborating, and in many contexts. Remember that time they covered Post Malone together? And well before Postie’s country foray and Strings’ track features on it. Hull has been known to guest on Strings’ shows, and vice versa. Their backstage cover of “What Does the Deep Sea Say” taped at the Ryman Auditorium has hundreds of thousands of views; “Midnight on the Stormy Deep,” meanwhile, has amassed nearly 200,000 views since it landed on YouTube late last week. Plus, Strings fans will recognize the track, not only from the bluegrass songbook, as it were, but from Strings’ own discography as well. He dueted with bluegrass legend and Hall of Famer Del McCoury on a version of the number a few years back. We never tire of it.
Whatever the many factors that led to Hull and Strings picking “Midnight on the Stormy Deep” together on ACL, they all add up to a live performance that’s easy, confident, and fun, and ultimately speaks to the deep and wide roster of young and younger bluegrass professionals who are keeping this music alive and in the limelight. For the coming generations and as-yet uninitiated new bluegrass fans, too.
The accordion is like a cousin you don’t see very often, but who is an integral, colorful member of the family. In country, folk, bluegrass and related roots music from the U.S., the accordion has always been there, more of a presence than you might think. It’s central to styles such as zydeco, Cajun, and conjunto music, but also many foundational bluegrass and country artists – such as Bill Monroe and the Carter Family – used accordion in their music at times. The accordion was in the environment, part of the sound world of mid-20th-century popular music, adding a special touch to bands of all kinds. Although it did not continue to flourish as a central bluegrass or country instrument, there’s no musical reason for that absence: it fits right into the sound. Whether playing rhythm or lead, it can be versatile, punchy, and expressive.
If country music is our unifying theme here, the accordion makes a great lens for viewing the vast diversity of the genre and its extensive family tree: Tejano-conjunto accordion playing, with its polka and Spanish origins and its two-beat and waltz rhythms, is a natural fit with country; zydeco and Cajun music overlap with it seamlessly; Western Swing bands, which merged jazz and country, often included accordionists from the Midwest with Central or Eastern European backgrounds. Of course, the impact of African American blues, swing, and jazz is so strong in all these styles that it’s more than just an “influence” – really a foundation. Jewish klezmer music is also a branch of the “roots music” tree; it came from Europe and developed in the U.S., absorbing many of the same influences as the other genres while making great use of the accordion. – Will Holshouser
“Together Again” – Steve Jordan
The incredible Esteban “Steve” Jordan grew up playing conjunto music in Texas and expanded his repertoire to include country, Latin music, rock, zydeco and more. He was known as “El Parche” for the patch he wore over his blind eye and also as the “Jimi Hendrix of the accordion,” since he played through an effects pedal (flanger or phaser). On his version of this Buck Owens tune, he plays many roles brilliantly: lead vocals, accordion solo, fills and accompaniment.
“J’ai Eté-Z-Au Bal” – Steve Riley & the Mamou Playboys
Steve Riley is one of the finest Cajun accordionists working today; this blistering version of a classic Cajun tune (“I Went to the Dance”) shows his virtuosity, the Cajun (diatonic) accordion in a lead role, and his band’s deep groove.
“Tennessee Waltz” – Pee Wee King & His Golden West Cowboys
Pee Wee King was born Julius Frank Anthony Kuczynski to a Polish-American family in Wisconsin. He learned accordion from his father, who played in a polka band, and went on to become a famous Western Swing bandleader and write the music for this country classic. His beautiful, single-reed accordion fills and moving thirds sound totally country, while revealing a Slavic touch.
“Blues de Basile” – Amédé Ardoin
Amédé Ardoin made some of the very first accordion records in Louisiana and is a common musical ancestor of all zydeco and Cajun accordion playing. His innovative, rhythmic, virtuosic accordion style and haunting vocals won him a great reputation both inside and outside his Afro-Creole community. He often played dances and made records with his close musical partner, Cajun fiddler Dennis McGee, including “Blues de Basile” in 1930. His life ended tragically when he was beaten by white vigilantes.
“Hard to Love Someone” – Clifton Chenier
Known as the King of the Bayous, Chenier brought together southwestern Louisiana zydeco rhythms and Delta blues. On this slow blues tune recorded in 1970, his fluid improvising and support of his own singing is nothing short of glorious. His brother Cleveland Chenier plays the rubboard.
“Bluegrass Special” – Bill Monroe (with Sally Ann Forrester)
Most people know that Bill Monroe defined the classic bluegrass sound. Some may not know that an early version of his band, The Blue Grass Boys, included a Blue Grass Girl, Wilene “Sally Ann” Forrester, on accordion. Her solid rhythm playing and all-too-short accordion break add warmth to this early instrumental, a 12-bar blues. If things had worked out just a little differently, maybe every bluegrass band today would include an accordion! (Hey, it’s not too late, folks.)
“Root, Hog or Die” – Mother Maybelle & The Carter Sisters (with Helen Carter)
Later in her life, Mother Maybelle Carter of the iconic Carter Family had a long performing career with her daughters. The group featured Helen Carter playing great accordion and often Chet Atkins on guitar. Here, too, the influence of swing and blues is readily apparent. “Root, hog, or die” is an old expression that means “you’re on your own.”
“Alon Kouri Laba” – Corey Ledet Zydeco
Corey Ledet, one of today’s most exciting zydeco accordionists, plays beautifully and sings in Louisiana Creole on this high-energy tune from his album Médikamen (2023).
“American Without Tears” – Elvis Costello (with Jo-El Sonnier)
Accordionist Jo-El Sonnier brings his sensitive touch and gorgeous Cajun waltz style to this song from Elvis Costello’s album King of America. (Rock producers and engineers, please take note: this is where an accordion should be in the mix – loud enough that it can breathe dynamically and find its place among the other instruments.)
“Shouting Song” – Will Holshouser
Here’s a tune from my new album, The Lone Wild Bird. I wrote “Shouting Song” with the sound of shape note singing in mind. This is a choral tradition in the rural U.S., mostly in the South, with a unique sound: shape note composers ignored (or just didn’t know about) many European harmonic rules which disallowed features like parallel fifths and chords with only two notes. Along with influences from various folk traditions and camp meeting spirituals, that stark approach to harmony gives the style its sound, which I use here as a point of departure.
“Un Mojado Sin Licensia” – Flaco Jimenez
The creative genius of the great Flaco Jimenez is on full display in this conjunto song about the hardships faced by a Mexican immigrant in Texas. His rhythmic drive, melodic inventiveness, and roller-coaster chromatic runs are thrilling to the ears.
“Streets of Bakersfield” – Dwight Yoakam (with Flaco Jimenez)
Here’s Flaco again, on a recording that went to the top of the country charts in 1988. This song was written by Homer Joy, first recorded by Buck Owens in 1972, and re-done here by Dwight Yoakam with both Buck and Flaco as guest stars.
“Spadella” – Spade Cooley (with Pedro DePaul)
Accordionist and arranger Larry “Pedro” DePaul grew up in Cleveland, Ohio, where he studied music at the Hungarian Conservatory. Spade Cooley, originally from Oklahoma, was a popular Western Swing bandleader in the LA area. There’s a grisly tale behind this tune: Cooley wrote it for his wife Ella, who he was convicted of murdering in 1961.
“Second Avenue Square Dance” – Dave Tarras with the Abe Ellstein Orchestra
Any discussion of the accordion in American roots music should include klezmer, Eastern European Jewish music that came to the U.S. and absorbed influences such as the drum kit, certain jazz band formats, etc. On this tune the great clarinetist Dave Tarras plays the lead, but the anonymous accordionist is heard prominently, playing beautiful fills and rhythm, harmonizing with the melody, and using rich chords to blend with the horns. Second Avenue in Manhattan was the epicenter of the Yiddish theater scene, which had a huge impact on Broadway. The title could be just a lark, or a nod to the musical kinship between klezmer and country music!
“Atlantic City” – The Band (with Garth Hudson)
Garth Hudson’s adventurous playing with The Band carved out a role for the accordion in that kind of rock music. (He also played the horizontal keyboards: organ, etc.) I had the thrill of meeting him when we both played on Martha Wainwright’s live Edith Piaf tribute album (Sans Fusils, Ni Souliers à Paris). Unfortunately, the producers had us playing on different tunes, not at the same time! On this cover of a Bruce Springsteen song, recorded in 1993, Garth creates a fantasy using multi-tracked layers of accordion and organ.
After 53 years and 23 albums, the release of the newest Seldom Scene recording is still something to celebrate. Remains to Be Scene is their first recording since the death of founding banjo player Ben Eldridge in 2024 and the last before Dudley Connell announced his retirement. In addition to Connell, the album features Fred Travers on Dobro, bassist Ronnie Simpkins, mandolinist Lou Reid, and Ron Stewart on fiddle and banjo.
Since its earliest days, the Seldom Scene has been known for busting open once-limiting bluegrass boundaries. The latest album continues this tradition, with songs pulled from sources like The Kinks, Woody Guthrie, and Jim Croce. Another tradition is incorporating new talent.
In 1995, three of five band members left to form another group. Looking to replace them, founding member John Duffey invited Simpkins, Connell, and Travers to a picking session. To those who didn’t know him, Duffey, with his huge stage personality, was intimidating.
Remembering that day, Simpkins said, “I did not want to be late, but I did not want to be early. So, I got there way ahead of time, and I kept an eye on John’s house to see who else got there.
“And I noticed this other car down the street. That person was just sitting there and would ease the car up closer to John’s as the time drew near. And I came to find out it was Dudley. So, we timed it until Ben got there, and we all went in together.”
Simpkins takes Connell’s retirement as a continuation of the band’s legacy: “The band has always transitioned.” Today he welcomes Clay Hess, a band leader and a former lead guitar player with Ricky Skaggs & Kentucky Thunder, who stepped in quickly when Connell, injured in a fall, was unable to play the last few shows of 2024.
As always, the Seldom Scene is committed to the same scalp-tingling vocals, remarkable song selection, and quirky, sometimes outrageous, stage shows that fill festival seats after five decades. Simpkins said, “I just feel blessed to be in this group … and to try to keep the same spirit the original guys had when they started out back in 1971.”
On the release of his last recording as a Seldom Scene member, Dudley Connell spoke to BGS about Remains to Be Scene, his musical career – starting in the 1970s – and his memories of some of the greatest characters in bluegrass.
The Seldom Scene has a tradition of pulling songs from everywhere and the latest recording is the same way. How do you decide on songs?
Dudley Connell: If you look back at the Scene’s recording career, all the way back to the original guys, it was unique. John Duffey had very eclectic taste. He brought “Rider” into the band from the Grateful Dead. He brought “Sweet Baby James” in from James Taylor. And continuing that tradition, I brought in “Boots of Spanish Leather” by Bob Dylan and “Nadine” from Chuck Berry.
It’s interesting having a band of five people, all with slightly different tastes, but with commonality at the same time. So, that’s the way we’ve continued the work all the way through our 30 years together. Everybody would show up with a basketful of songs. Sometimes, Lou might bring a song in that he really liked and say to me, “I could hear you singing this more than me.” Likewise, I could say to Fred, “I really like this song, but I don’t think I could sing it as well as you could sing it.” And it worked that way really well.
How does a band stay together so long?
We, of course, spent a lot of time together, but we also spent a lot of time doing our own thing. Now, with [a band leader] like Bill Monroe or Ralph Stanley, they take the fee and then they give you whatever they want to pay you per show. But with the Scene, John [Duffey’s] feeling was that if you’re out there on the road and you’re doing the work, you deserve equal cut. So, everything we made was split equally. You could fly, you could drive, you could stay at the Waldorf Astoria, or you could stay at the Super Eight. It was your money to spend and to travel as you wanted.
I think it created a certain sense of camaraderie that continues to this day. Everybody’s getting paid the same, so everybody’s expected to do equal work, and it gives you a sense of belonging. There’s no boss, everybody has an equal say, and that was true from the very first rehearsal.
Every group you’ve been with has been known for exceptional harmonies. Can you talk about harmony a bit?
I think a musician’s greatest asset and greatest tool is his or her ears. If you’re singing a trio, you want the blend to be there. You don’t even have to actually know who’s singing what part. There’s a certain buzz you get when the harmony is just right, and you hit a chord just right, and everybody’s phrasing together, and their mouths are in the same sort of position. When that happens, this is just like magic.
Let’s go back to the Johnson Mountain Boy days, when I first met Richard Underwood. Richard learned to sing with me. When we sang together and I switched from lead to tenor on a chorus, you could hardly hear the switch. It came natural to him, because I’m the only person he ever sang with. You know, he later went on to become a great singer on his own right, but he was the first singer that I really worked with a lot on blending and making a pleasing sound.
Now, my experience with David McLaughlin was more organic, as it was with Don Rigsby. Don and David and I all grew up as disciples of the Stanley Brothers. They had such a tight blend.
Now a more challenging partner for me was Hazel Dickens. Hazel and I toured quite a bit together in the ’70s and ’80s. But Hazel had a completely different sort of approach. Hazel was full bore, wide open all the time, and sometimes she could get just a little bit pitchy. I looked at it as my job to try to keep her close to the melody. It was great for me, because it taught me how to blend and also how to pull her to the proper pitch when necessary.
When I came to work with The Scene, it was completely different. They were all about the harmony.
What are your memories of The Scene before you joined them?
The Scene were a huge influence on everybody in D.C. The Scene was almost like a gateway drug to bluegrass music. They were largely playing for urban audiences in the early days, and a lot of young people really responded to it. In fact, The Seldom Scene record Live at the Cellar Door almost has cult-like status. When I was a teenager, we’d go to each other’s houses to listen to music. Right next to Led Zeppelin and Jimi Hendrix and Bob Dylan would be The Seldom Scene Live at the Cellar Door.
I think what made that record so absolutely deserving of cult status is that it’s really freewheeling, it’s really the band live. It’s not just the music and the wonderful singing, the wonderful song selection. It’s also the playfulness with the audience.
As far as I was concerned, John Duffey was The Scene. It wasn’t just that he was a great singer and instrumentalist, but also he had this gift – presenting the music to all kinds of different audiences. You couldn’t not respond to John Duffey or his emcee work – or his pants, for that matter. An interesting thing about John that a lot of people don’t realize is that he was actually kind of shy, kind of insecure. This bigger-than-life character that emerged on stage – I’m not saying that it was phony. It really was John. But when he walked on stage, it was like a switch kicked on, and he became a great entertainer and a great communicator.
I think people who weren’t familiar with bluegrass, it put them at ease a little bit. It drew a lot of people in who maybe wouldn’t have paid attention to a banjo or a Dobro. All entertainers feed off audiences. If you’ve got a really lively, energetic audience, you pour a lot of that back. If the audience feels more relaxed, you slow down a little bit with your delivery and your introductions. And John was an absolute master of that. I learned a lot about presenting a show from my year with John.
And how did you come to play with The Scene?
The Johnson Mountain Boys were on their way out. I’d done a little bit of work with Longview by this time. Then I got this notice in the mail that T. Michael Coleman, Mike Auldridge, and Moondi Kline were leaving the Scene and forming a band called Chesapeake. And it was sort of assumed that the Scene were going to dissolve. I knew John well enough and I called him on the phone and said, “John, I’m really sorry to hear about this. It sounds like the end of an era.”
And he said in the off-the-cuff, John Duffey style of talk, “Well, we’re really not dissolving the band. We’re just looking for a lead singer, guitar player, tenor singer, bass player, baritone singer, Dobro player.” You know, basically replacing three-fifths of the band. I don’t know where it came from, because I really had not called John looking for a job, but after he told me what he was looking for, I said, “Well, John, let’s get together and sing sometime.” Complete silence.
After the initial silence, he said, “Well, do you know of any of our stuff?”
So, I went over to John’s, and Ronnie was there, and Fred. John had given me about half a dozen songs to learn and when I look back at it now, he was testing me. He wanted to see if I could sing harmony parts over and under him. By that time, I’d had the experience with Hazel and had sung with a lot of different people. I was ready.
So, we started these Wednesday rehearsals and we’d done this for about two or three months in preparation for our debut – New Year’s Eve at The Birchmere, 1995. By the time it actually came to play our first show. I was really, really into it. And it was one of the toughest shows I think I ever played, because all the original guys were there – John Starling, Mike Auldridge, Tom Gray. Lou Reid was there, too. And I’m thinking, “I don’t know, man. I don’t know if I belong in this – with these people that I’ve listened to for years.”
One of the things I remember was our opening song, “Our Last Goodbye,” which is this old Stanley Brothers song. I had worn these baggy chino kind of pants and I was so grateful that I didn’t wear tight pants because my legs were literally shaking, and I didn’t want anybody to see that.
So, it was a very exciting night, and after that we had a year with John.
You were quite young when you formed the Johnson Mountain Boys. Can you tell us about those years?
I came along at a very fortunate time in the Washington, D.C. area in the ’70s, and actually on through the ’80s as well. You could see bluegrass every night of the week between Washington and Baltimore.
Now, I’m not going to tell you that the places were swank and nice. They were kind of seedy bars. But when I look back on it now I think that was actually a very beneficial thing for us. We were young, we were very enthusiastic about the music, and we could go into these bars and play four or five sets ’til, you know, one or two in the morning … and then go play another one the next night. So, by the time that the ’80s rolled around and we started actually playing festivals for larger crowds, we were pretty well rehearsed.
I found that the musicians that we met, like Del McCoury and Bill Harrell and a lot of the acts around Washington, embraced us because we were doing something different – actually doing something [traditional bluegrass] that had been done before, but we were kids doing it.
Ben Eldridge– the first time I ever met him, we were playing this indoor bluegrass event. Ben came over and said, “I wish I was doing what you guys are doing.” I know that he was kidding me, but the point being that he really respected the traditional stuff. He said it because he was very sweet man and very kind man. But I think there was some truth in that, too.
How much time was there between you playing in the two bands?
We actually intertwined for just a little bit. When we got off the road full-time in 1988, we were kind of burned out. I went back to college. David [McLaughlin] started selling real estate. Eddie [Stubbs] went to work with his father and we just sort of drifted apart, personally and musically.
Now, we did get together and play some in the ’90s and we produced a record that was nominated for a GRAMMY, Blue Diamond. But that was not like the previous Johnson Mountain Boy records. So, The Seldom Scene coming along at that time in my life, when I was curious about experimenting with different kinds of music, was perfect.
They played a lot locally and I was working full-time for the Smithsonian and didn’t want to travel very much. And the Scene, to this day, has followed that model. We don’t get on the tour bus and go out for weeks at a time. It reminds me of the reason John Duffey left the Country Gentleman. He said he got tired of saving up to go on tour. I understand what he meant. They were just going out trying to get their name out there. The Johnson Mountain Boys did the same thing. I remember once we drove to Florida to play for 900 bucks for three days.
That’s another thing that John did, he just set the price to where it made it worth his while to go. Here’s a kind of famous John Duffey story: A promoter in California called John and said, “I really, really like what you’re doing, and I’d like to get you out here to California.” John said, “Great! Make me an offer.” The promoter said, “Will 500 bucks do it?”
John thought for a minute and said, “Which one of us do you want?”
I’d like to talk a bit about your career as an archivist. Did you go to school to learn that?
Actually, I didn’t. After the Johnson Mountain Boys got off the road, I went back to college. One of my classes was Career Development. There were a lot of people around my age who were looking for a change in their work and their livelihoods.
One of my assignments was to interview someone that I thought had a really interesting job. So, I chose to interview the curator and the director of Smithsonian Folkways records. His name was Tony Seeger, and yes, he is a part of the Mike and Pete Seeger world. The Smithsonian had just acquired Folkways Records. I went into the interview asking Tony how he got his job, what his educational background was, how he ended up at Smithsonian Folkways, what his life was like. About halfway through the interview, he started asking me about my background and what I’ve been doing.
Before I left his office, he basically hired me to come in and try to figure out how to how to keep Folkways alive.
And then you did archive work for another organization?
It’s called the National Council for the Traditional Arts. Since 1933 they have put on folk festivals with all kinds of ethnic and roots music. They started recording all the festivals in 1972. When I got there, they were just quite a thing of beauty – 5,000 hours of one-of-a-kind recordings in a non-climate-controlled room. So, I went to work there, preserving the recordings. And oddly enough, the very first that I put up to digitize was Alison Krauss. I thought, “I think I found the right place.” I worked there for 19 years.
Why retire now, and what’s next?
My wife, Sally, had retired from 40 years at the Smithsonian’s Natural History Museum. I had retired from the National Council for Traditional Arts. This would have been the end of 2023, so I was still traveling on the weekends.
During the pandemic, we got a dog named Woody. It’s almost like having a child in the house. He was adopted and he was afraid of everything, so we spent a lot of time with him. Before that, Sally used to travel with me everywhere and it got to be that she had to stay home and take care of the dog when I was out on the road. I wanted to have time to travel, to Europe and to different places that I’d not really been able to explore. I think it’s a misconception some people have about a traveling musician: “Wow, you got to go to all these great, cool places. You must have seen a lot.”
Well, I saw a lot of hotel rooms. I saw a lot of backstages, but I didn’t see some of the things these towns are known for. What Sally and I want to do now is, while we’re in reasonably good health and while we can still get around well on our feet, we want to do some traveling and not be restricted by a schedule.
Favorite memories?
Marrying Sally, definitely a favorite memory. In the ’80s, an organization called the United States Information Agency USA had a subgroup called Arts America. They created cultural exchanges with third world countries. I got to travel to Southern Africa and later Southeast Asia. You can’t buy that kind of education. It’s quite an eye opening event. I remember coming back from those trips and having a different way of looking at my lifestyle and where I live and how fortunate we are.
Another highlight was getting to meet my heroes and finding out that they were really nice people who didn’t want anything more than to see me and our bands, whether it be the Seldom Scene or the Johnson Mountain Boys, succeed. I never felt any jealousy or any animosity, you know, toward us, these young upstarts. In the ’70s and ’80s, everybody knew everybody, and everybody wanted everybody else to succeed.
But probably the biggest thing was having a year with John Duffey and many years with Ben Eldridge; hearing their stories, the hardships, and the fun stuff and the silliness that happens on the road. All those things are highlights for me.
Closing thoughts?
The music of the Scene is completely unique to anything else in the bluegrass world. I think the Scene could follow just about anybody. We followed Alison Krauss and we followed Ricky Skaggs, and I never really felt uptight about our performance following these major acts, because nobody else does what the Scene does. That’s true with Clay Hess taking my place, too. I’ve heard some of their performances on Facebook – sounds like the Seldom Scene to me.
I feel like I’ve lived a very full life. It’s like when Tony Trischka was asked, “Tony, have you been playing banjo all your life?” He answered, “Not yet.”
That’s the way I feel about music – I’m not done yet.
Following more than 30 years since first meeting and countless times sharing the stage during festivals, the two most accomplished fiddlers in International Bluegrass Music Association history have finally teamed up for their debut album together.
Released March 14 via Fiddle Man Records, the aptly titled Carter & Cleveland sees the combined 18-time IBMA Fiddle Players of the Year Jason Carter and Michael Cleveland flexing their bluegrass muscles on compositions from some of the most prolific songwriters around – like Darrell Scott, John Hartford, Tim O’Brien, and Del McCoury.
Coincidentally, it was with McCoury and his sons’ band, the Travelin’ McCourys, with whom Carter spent the last 33 years playing until the February announcement that he’d be stepping away from the groups to focus on his solo material and collaborative projects, like this one with Cleveland.
“I just thought it was time to start pursuing other things, like my own career,” explains Carter about his decision to leave the bands. “That being said, I never thought I’d be leaving the [Del McCoury] Band. I recently gave a fiddle lesson and the person I was teaching told me he was surprised I left the band and I remember telling him, ‘I’m kind of surprised too.’ [Laughs] But it’s so rewarding to be doing something new with my own band along with getting to play with Mike.
“I’m also really excited to see the McCourys play with their new mandolin player, Christian Ward,” he continues. “There’s no bigger fan of Del or the Travelin’ McCourys than me. This will be the first time since I was 18 years old that I’ll be able to sit out in the audience and watch his show. I can’t wait!”
It was also with McCoury where Cleveland, then 13, first met Carter back in the early ’90s during one of Carter’s (then 19) first gigs with him.
“[The Del McCoury Band] has always had the players that I aspire to be like,” says Cleveland. “I remember going to and recording the band’s shows from the soundboard when Jason was just starting out with them. Then I’d go home and try to play guitar over the recordings to best imitate each part. They quickly became some of my biggest influences in this music, and still are.”
Ahead of the album’s release, BGS spoke with Carter & Cleveland over the phone to discuss the duo’s years-long partnership, the process of bringing this record to life, and their thoughts on the history of duo records in bluegrass music.
You have tunes from Del McCoury, Darrell Scott, John Hartford, Bill Monroe, Buck Owens and other roots music legends on this project, but no originals. What was behind that decision?
Jason Carter: Well, for me, I didn’t have any original tunes at the time we started doing this, so I just started throwing out songs I liked. Then I called some songwriters – Tim O’Brien, Terry Herd, Darrell Scott, and others – and the songs I liked most of what they sent I then played for Mike. I’ve only written one fiddle tune so far, but actually have four or five writing sessions lined up this week, so maybe if there’s a Carter & Cleveland Volume II, I could have a cut on there.
Michael Cleveland: We’ve talked about needing to sit down and write together, it just hasn’t come to fruition yet. When I’ve sat in with Del or Jason in the past we never had time to rehearse, which is similar to how these songs came together. We were able to talk about material and send things back and forth, but we didn’t have much time to sit down and rehearse before recording because we’re both so busy. I hope we get to do that someday, but at the same time songwriting isn’t the main focus for me. I know folks that’ll write a tune every day, but for me that only happens once in a while; when it does I make sure to run with it.
What are some standout songs for y’all on this project?
JC: That’s tough, because I like all the songs on the record. At any given time I could have a different favorite. There’s also some that didn’t make the record we still have in the can and might put out later that could actually be my favorite songs. That being said, I really like the part of “With a Vamp in the Middle” where [Mike] finger picks the fiddle while I’m strumming…
MC: That was your idea!
JC: I heard you play something that sparked that. [Laughs] When you’re in the room as a fiddle player and you hear Michael Cleveland play, it’s all special. He [is] leagues above everyone else.
MC: It’s hardly ever a problem that you have too many good songs, but that was definitely the case when we went in to record. As soon as we put the word out about it we had a bunch of our musical heroes sending us songs to record and they were all great! When I first heard the demo of “Give It Away” from Tim O’Brien I liked the song immediately. Tim was playing old-time banjo on it in the key of D while singing, but once I heard Jason sing it in the key of B I knew it was meant to be a hard-driving bluegrass song.
I also really enjoy “Kern County Breakdown.” The only time I’d ever heard that – which made me want to record it – was from Alison Krauss. She used to play it as a fiddle instrumental and I always wish she recorded it. I don’t know if it’ll happen, but I’m still holding out hope that she’ll put out a fiddle album one day.
She does have her first album in 10 years dropping later this month, so you never know!
Throughout the history of bluegrass music there have been many timeless duo records from the likes of Ralph Stanley & Jimmy Martin to Ricky Skaggs & Tony Rice to Bill Monroe & Doc Watson. What are your thoughts on being the next chapter in that series of collaborations?
JC: I hadn’t really thought of it like that before…
MC: If this album is mentioned in the same breath as any of those, that would be great! We also talk a lot about our favorite twin fiddle albums, which this seems to be more of, and have tossed around the idea of doing this project for 15 years. There’s albums from Kenny Baker and Bobby Hicks, Buddy Spicher and Benny Martin, Buddy and Vassar Clements, and so many more, but there hasn’t been one for a long time now. That’s what originally inspired us to do this. In the last few years people have also finally figured out what a great singer Jason is, which afforded us a lot more room to experiment than if it were a twin fiddle instrumental album.
JC: Mike just has such a good ear. I remember sending him a couple versions of demos I played and sang on and he’d immediately get back to me with suggestions like adding a fiddle lick at the beginning, like on “Outrun The Rain.” He thought it would be great for a high harmony thing two above the lead. As soon as he heard this stuff he had ideas. It was really cool to see how that all came together.
Mike just mentioned the idea for this album has been floating around for 15 years. When did y’all eventually get to work on it?
JC: We started recording a couple years ago. The first session we recorded we actually did at [guitarist] Cody Kilby’s house during COVID, then it was another year or so after that until we got working on it again. Because we didn’t have any rehearsal time, I remember sending voice memos of myself playing fiddle, guitar, and/or singing to Mike to listen to and send suggestions back. I remember being at a show with Del tucked away in the dressing room by myself trying to record versions of these songs or trying to run through an arrangement before sending it to Mike through text message.
MC: I had a great run with the label I was previously involved with, Compass Records, but they weren’t really interested in collaboration albums. With all of my projects and Jason as busy as he is, we were always just in the middle of other things until Jason put out [2022’s Lowdown Hoedown] and I completed [2023’s Lovin’ Of The Game]. It was around that time we decided to take the leap and finally start working on this.
Speaking of taking a leap, I know y’all co-produced this record too. What was your motivation behind that?
MC: We had talked about bringing somebody in. I’ve worked with Jeff White for years on my albums. In a way he helped to produce this one too, which is fitting because I always felt like we co-produced my albums together. For this record there were people we’d send stuff to listen to, even down to the final mixes, just because we respect their opinions, but the final calls were all us.
JC: Even when you’ve got someone like Bryan Sutton in the studio for tracking, he may have an idea he throws out that becomes a big help as well. That could come from anyone involved in the session, even engineer Sean Sullivan, who we leaned on heavily as well because they do this every day. These people are here for a good reason, because they’re super talented and play some of our favorite music. And when it comes to Cleve, I’m all ears. He always has good advice.
MC: When you first start recording, you don’t always know what sounds good. It’s like with playing, singing, or anything else, the more you put yourself in those situations the more you understand what you want to hear and how to achieve it. Working with Jeff in the past, we’d be together during the day when all of the sudden he’d say, “Hey Mike, I gotta take off for a few hours, produce for a while.” It freaked me out the first time he did that, but it forced me to get comfortable in the situation and forced me to trust my ear more. Jeff having that faith in me also gave me a little more confidence in myself that I was making the correct decisions and to continue trusting my instincts.
JC: With the Travelin’ McCourys, all of those records were produced by the band along with most of the stuff we did with Del, too. I did produce my solo record, Lowdown Hoedown, though. But even on that, when we were recording Sam [Bush] and Jerry Douglas were there. I remember Jerry – who produced a lot of the McCourys’ stuff early on – always had great ideas on arrangements and different things to put in when he spoke up, which was a huge help. Getting to be in the studio with him is an education you can’t get anywhere else.
Jason, you briefly spoke of a few of the album’s players there. But they’re far from the only top-notch pickers you have on this record, with the likes of Vince Gill, Charlie Worsham, and Sierra Hull, among others. How’d y’all go about deciding who to bring into the fold?
JC: We just tried to think of who would best fit with the songs as we listened to demos for each.
MC: It also came down to who was available at certain times. Guys like Bryan Sutton, Cory Walker, and Alan Bartram played on most of it. I remember days where Sam Bush was available on mandolin and others where Harry Clark filled in. Some of the first sessions we did after the pandemic were with Cody Kilby and Casey Campbell followed by David Grier and Dominick [Leslie].
And going back to something Jason said earlier, I also leaned on Bryan a lot, specifically about what songs he thought it would be good to have Sam on, which led to his inclusion on “Middle of Middle Tennessee” and a few others.
What has music, specifically the process of bringing this record to life, taught you about yourselves?
MC: This was one of the first things I’ve done without a producer being there. Most of the time we would agree on decisions, but other times you don’t know what the right thing is and somebody has to make the call, because that’s typically something a producer would do. When it’s just you there’s no question, but when you’re working with somebody you want to make sure it’s a collaboration and not one person running the ship. Recording this album has taught me to be more aware of that.
JC: The singing part of this too, that’s still pretty new to me. I’ve sung on other people’s records, my solo album and with the Travelin’ McCourys, but being the lead singer throughout is a new venture for me and something I really enjoyed getting to do with Michael.
What do the two of you appreciate most about one another as both musicians and people?
JC: Everything about Mike’s playing, he’s just on another planet right now, and as a person he’s the same way. I recently got married and Mike was my best man, because no matter what he does he is the best man!
MC: Hearing Jason play with Del, he’s always been the fiddler I’ve wanted to be. We’re both into the same stuff, which is why I think we work together so well. It’s why we’re able to jump on stage and play twin fiddles without rehearsing, which is usually a mess when you do that. Getting to work with him on this album has been a dream come true for me.
Photo Credit: Lead image by Sam Wiseman. Square image by Emma McCoury.
Artist:Max Wareham Hometown: Middletown, Connecticut Latest Album:DAGGOMIT! (releasing February 21) Personal Nicknames or Rejected Band Names: The Bluegrass Pagans, The Bluegrass Feds, The Bluegrass Paranormal Investigators, The Bluegrass Rats
Which artist has influenced you the most – and how?
I play in Peter Rowan’s Bluegrass Band – he’s been a pretty big influence on me. His spirit as an artist burns strong; he has a vision that isn’t restricted by parameters of tradition or genre and he has an incredible way of singing and playing from the heart. Who else has played in a band with both Bill Monroe and Jerry Garcia? I was honored to have him produce my album, DAGGOMIT!. He’s also a distant cousin of mine.
What other art forms – literature, film, dance, painting, etc. – inform your music?
I like to write and practice photography, especially film. The great French photographer Eugene Atget is a huge inspiration to me. His photographs have profound harmony in them – every proportion is perfect and the simplest lines can be so expressive. To me, it’s very musical. I also love the German author W.G. Sebald. His writing often explores themes of decay and loss through a gauzy lens of nostalgia, not unlike bluegrass music.
What’s the most difficult creative transformation you’ve ever undertaken?
I’ve worn lots of different musical hats, so I generally don’t find it difficult to transform creatively. While bluegrass and the banjo are my primary focus, I played electric bass for years in psych-pop band, Sun Parade, and studied jazz guitar performance at school. I write and record some non-bluegrass songs under the name Sir Orfeo and was in the chamber-pop studio band Cousin Moon – to me, it’s all music.
If you didn’t work in music, what would you do instead?
I’d probably work in archaeology. I quit music for a short while and worked on an archaeological dig in eastern Tennessee, excavating a 16th century Cherokee settlement. There’s something I love about digging, whether that’s literal or uncovering the history of forgotten banjo players.
I crewed for a hot air balloon pilot for a while, too, but that’s a tough gig.
Since food and music go so well together, what is your dream pairing of a meal and a musician?
Well, I did once find myself grilling a steak in a parking lot behind a venue with Dobro legend Jerry Douglas. I thought his company and the steak were a perfect pairing. He was wearing denim and the steak was medium-rare.
On January 9, 2025, there will be a special performance – more so a once-in-a-lifetime celebration – of the groundbreaking music of Old & In the Way at Nashville’s famed Ryman Auditorium.
Led by the “Bluegrass Buddha” himself, Peter Rowan, the legendary singer-songwriter and founding member of the group will be backed by the Sam Grisman Project. The gathering will also feature a murderers’ row of talent: Sam Bush, Tim O’Brien, Lindsay Lou, Ronnie & Rob McCoury, and more.
“In bluegrass, you just do the beautiful grace of presenting the music, being good neighbors and all that stuff,” Rowan told BGS in an exclusive 2022 interview. “But you could hear us in the band going, ‘go, man, go.’ Go for it, that’s where we came from. That’s what Old & In the Way was – the ‘go for it’ signal to everybody.”
To preface, Old & In the Way started as impromptu pickin’-n-grinnin’ sessions in the early 1970s between Rowan, his longtime friend, mandolin guru David Grisman, and Jerry Garcia, iconic guitarist for the Grateful Dead, who reached for his trusty banjo during the gatherings at Garcia’s home in Stinson Beach, California.
“We started picking every night after supper [at Jerry’s],” Rowan remembers. “We went through old song books and learned a bunch of material.”
At the time, Garcia was searching for new avenues of creative exploration, seeing as the Dead were in the midst of taking a much-needed hiatus after years of relentless touring and recording. He was also, perhaps subconsciously, trying to tap back into his roots before the Dead, this landscape of the late 1950s/early 1960s where Garcia was heavily involved in the San Francisco Bay Area folk scene.
“And you realized that Jerry was an intergalactic traveler, just dropping in on the Earth scene for a little while, but he was totally at home,” Rowan says of Garcia’s restless penchant and lifelong thirst for acoustic music.
When Old & In the Way formed in 1973, the trio recruited bassist John Kahn, as well as a revolving cast of fiddlers (Richard Greene, John Hartford, Vassar Clements). Sporadic gigs were booked around the Bay Area, with the vibe of the whole affair casual in nature – the ethos one of camaraderie and collaboration, but without expectations or boundaries.
“I remember singing the ending of ‘Land of the Navajo’ at the first rehearsal and I looked over at Jerry,” Rowan recalls. “He kept nodding his head like, ‘go.’ It was like Jack Kerouac at Allen Ginsberg’s poetry reading at City Lights Bookstore – ‘go, man, go.’ Encouragement, encouragement.”
By 1974, Old & In the Way simply vanished into the cosmic ether, but not before capturing a handful of live performances that have become melodic sacred texts of a crucial crossroads for acoustic music. To note, Old & In the Way’s 1975 self-titled debut album went on to become the bestselling bluegrass album of all-time – until it was dethroned by the O Brother, Where Art Thou? soundtrack released in 2000.
As it stands today, Rowan, now 82 years old, is the only remaining member of Old & In the Way still actively performing. Garcia, Clements, Kahn, and Hartford have all sadly passed on, with the elder Grisman and Greene retired from touring. Grisman’s son, standup bassist Sam Grisman, is now carrying his father’s bright torch.
And although the tenure of the Old & In the Way was short-lived, the ripple effects of the band’s ongoing influence and enduring legacy remains as vibrant and vital as it was those many years ago, when a handful of shaggy music freaks kicked off a jam that will perpetuate for eternity.
In preparation for the upcoming Old & In the Way showcase at the Ryman on January 9, BGS recently spoke with Sam Grisman, who talked at-length not only about his continued work with Peter Rowan and the intricacies of Jerry Garcia, but also why a band Grisman’s father started over a half-century ago still captivates the hearts and minds of music lovers the world over.
You were five years old when Jerry Garcia passed away. You were really young, but do you remember anything that you hold onto?
Sam Grisman: Yeah, I have a very vivid memory of what our house felt like, smelled like, and just what the energy was like when Jerry was around. And I remember that sort of ease, just the way that he made people feel. It seemed like my parents were at ease when he was around.
And he probably felt at ease being around them. It was probably a safe haven at that house.
Definitely. And, you know, my parents smoked weed in the house. But, my mom was pretty strict about cigarettes. [She] wouldn’t let anybody smoke cigarettes in the house. But, when Jerry was around, he smoked cigarettes in the house. So, part of this smell in my blurry five-year-old memory is the smell of cigarettes. And Jerry would sometimes wear a leather jacket, maybe the smell of leather.
I remember the sound of his laugh. I remember all that music, and some of it I remember so vividly that I just know that part of that memory is reinforced by being there as a little toddler when they were working up [music]. Because they would often work on tunes upstairs in the living room and then take them down to the studio, put them on the mics and pull them.
You just wanted to be around it all and soak it all in.
I was a really curious kid.
With the Ryman show coming up, there’s been a lot of celebration of Old & In the Way as of late, especially with you touring with Peter Rowan and the current Jerry Garcia exhibit at the Bluegrass Hall of Fame & Museum. You’ve been around those songs your whole life. But, when you think about the context of Old & In the Way, and what you’re doing at the Ryman, what really sticks out with why that was such a special time in not only bluegrass, but in the lives of those people?
I mean, what a lightning-in-the-bottle chapter of all those people’s lives, you know? I think 1973, ’73/’74, was a particularly fertile time for Jerry. He was playing a full schedule with the Dead. He had Jerry Garcia Band stuff. He was playing in Old & In the Way. He was playing pedal steel with the New Riders of the Purple Sage. It seemed like he really had an itch to go back to where his roots were, especially when you look at [the Grateful Dead album] Workingman’s Dead [that was released a] couple years prior.
For all of us, who are looking back on it 50 years in the future, it seems like this momentous, heady time that was just meant to be. But, for those guys in the moment, it was just total serendipity. And the quintessence of just going with the flow – Stinson Beach, California, vibes. They just kind of stumbled into this reality.
“Y’all wanna play?” “Sure, why not.”
Yeah, where it would just be really fun to have this bluegrass band that they didn’t take super seriously, which I think really comes across in the recordings, you know? Because there’s all this joy in that music that might not necessarily have been there if those guys were taking it super seriously or if they needed it to pay their bills. It was a very interesting circumstance.
And for them to call their hero Vassar Clements into the mix, on a sort of whim because Peter found his number on a card in his wallet. It was sort of like a fantasy camp for these guys. Like a bunch of hippies sitting around on the beach, smoking a joint, thinking: “Wouldn’t it be great if we had the world’s greatest fiddle player just show up?” “I bet you we could book a gig.” “Hey Jerry, you got these legions of people following you around, you could probably get us a gig, right?”
And that’s kind of how it happened. Those gigs were so magical, because they happened mostly for all of these Deadheads in Marin [County, California], for like 16 months or something.
So, if you really had your finger on the pulse of it and you were going to the Keystone [music club in Berkeley, California], to see [the Jerry Garcia Band] and you loved what the Dead were doing, you knew that they were going to take this time off, but you just saw Jerry the week before and he never took his guitar off. He just finished the [Jerry Garcia Band] set and walked backstage with his guitar on and was smoking a cigarette, and then you saw him 30 minutes later talking to somebody off the side of stage, still had his guitar on — you’re thinking, “Gee, this guy’s not going to stop playing music this year, so I better keep my eyes peeled for what’s next.” And they played all these little gigs mostly around the Bay Area — they kind of captured some lightning in a bottle.
With playing these Old & In the Way melodies not only throughout your life, but also extensively nowadays with Peter Rowan, what’s been your biggest takeaway on what makes those songs and the ethos/history behind them so special to you? What about in terms of musicality, technique, and approach?
It’s hard to articulate how special it is to be exploring these beloved songs that mean so much to so many folks, myself included, with Peter and a cast of some of my best friends and favorite musicians. It’s a catalog that’s got a lot of depth.
Old & In the Way would play anything from songs by bluegrass heroes like Bill Monroe, The Stanley Brothers, Reno & Smiley, and Jim & Jesse to Vassar [Clements], Jerry [Garcia], and my pop’s instrumentals, to the tunes that Peter was writing at the time, which are some of my absolute favorite songs ever written.
Songs like “Midnight Moonlight,” “High Lonesome Sound,” and “Panama Red.” Playing these tunes with Uncle Peter makes me feel connected to the times he spent with David and Jerry in Stinson Beach in the early ’70s.
I grew up in Mill Valley and loved going to Stinson Beach with my friends, so I have a pretty vivid image in my mind’s eye. They played tunes, hung out, relaxed, took in the sea breeze, smoked a bunch of great weed, and developed a highly individuated “West Coast” approach to playing and singing this bluegrass music that they all loved and respected so much.
And then, they called one of my bass heroes, John Kahn, and their fiddle hero, the inimitable Vassar Clements and gave the world about one glorious year – I think around 50 shows – of a rare and lovable breed of bluegrass.
So much of everyone’s personality comes through in the music, and you can hear their camaraderie in the recordings. I guess my biggest take away from getting to play this music with Peter is how important it is to bring your own approach to these timeless songs that we love, while still honoring what it is that makes us love them in the first place.
You’ve known Peter Rowan since you were born. But, what has this latest endeavor together meant to you, to play the Old & In the Way catalog to not only lifelong fans, but also a whole new generation of acoustic music fans and bluegrass freaks?
It means the world to me to get to spend some time out on the road sharing space and time in service of this music with Uncle Peter. Getting to meet all of these folks who care so much about this music and feeling their appreciation and gratitude for Pete has been truly special.
There are so many people from so many different ages and different walks of life for whom this music has been the soundtrack to many fond memories, and I’m honored to be one of them. It’s also been a joy to see fresh faces in the audience and some folks taking in this music with a new perspective.
In your honest opinion, what is the legacy of Old & In the Way when you place it through the prism of the history of bluegrass and the road to the here and now, especially this current juncture where the torchbearers are selling out arenas and creating this high-water mark for acoustic, traditional and bluegrass music?
For many folks who know and love the music of Jerry Garcia and the Grateful Dead, Old & In the Way has been their first exposure to bluegrass. So many people over the years have told me how listening to Old & In the Way led them to further explore bluegrass music and its roots and branches. And others have told me how it inspired them to become pickers and start bands of their own.
I think Old & In the Way has been pivotal in bringing a wider audience with a more adventurous musical palette into the bluegrass universe. The legacy of Old & In the Way is one of exploration and preservation, and they certainly paved the way for many of us to walk a similar path — honoring the music that we love, while exploring its boundaries and finding our own voices and approaches.
It’s wonderful to see my friend Billy Strings out there playing for so many folks on such a big scale simply being himself, playing his own songs with a great group of friends, and also honoring the material that made him the musician that he is — maybe that’s a part of the legacy of Old & In the Way.
Photo Credit: Elliot Siff Poster Credit: Taylor Rushing
Wyatt Ellis can’t even drive a car, but he’s making waves in the bluegrass community. A prolific tune-writer and a dedicated student of the mandolin, he’s growing and learning at a rate you only find in the under-20 set. I was surprised to find that he’s also humble, articulate, and a total professional. It’s not hard to envision him reaching the highest echelons of acoustic and bluegrass music, and doing it very soon. I was grateful to my friend Jon Stickley for the introduction to this bluegrass wunderkind.
This episode was recorded live at 185 King Street in Brevard, North Carolina on June 11, 2024.
Timestamps:
0:06 – Soundbyte 0:36 – Intro 1:46 – Live show introduction by Bill K 3:07 – “Blue Smoke” 7:04 – On “Blue Smoke” and “Get Lost” 8:16 – “Get Lost” 13:17 – “When My Blue Moon Turns To Gold Again” 16:58 – “Blue Night” 20:00 – Interview 28:09 – “Watson Blues” 31:38 – “Rabbit In A Log” 34:30 – Interview 40:00 – “Whites Creek” 44:40 – “How old are you?” and JAM 46:17 – “Cold On The Shoulder” 49:17 – “Long Lonesome Day” 54:10 – “Rollin’ In My Sweet Baby’s Arms” 58:29 – Outro
Editor’s Note: The Travis Book Happy Hour is hosted by Travis Book of the GRAMMY Award-winning band, The Infamous Stringdusters. The show’s focus is musical collaboration and conversation around matters of being. The podcast includes highlights from Travis’s interviews and music from each live show recorded in Brevard, North Carolina.
The Travis Book Happy Hour is brought to you by Thompson Guitars and is presented by Americana Vibes and The Bluegrass Situation as part of the BGS Podcast Network. You can find the Travis Book Happy Hour on Instagram and Facebook and online at thetravisbookhappyhour.com.
Although it will be showcased for the next two years, the recent grand opening celebration of the “Jerry Garcia: A Bluegrass Journey” exhibition at the Bluegrass Music Hall of Fame & Museum will go down as not only a monumental gathering of musical legends, but also an unforgettable moment in time for all involved.
“This exhibit is coinciding at a great moment for bluegrass,” says Carly Smith, museum curator. “[Jerry] funneled so many people to [bluegrass]. And a lot of present day artists — Billy Strings, Molly Tuttle — are incorporating Jerry’s style into what they’re playing.”
Located in downtown Owensboro, Kentucky, along the mighty Ohio River, the Bluegrass Hall of Fame has created an incredibly impressive and intricate ode to Garcia and his undying love of the “high, lonesome sound,” demonstrating how his indelible fingerprint on the genre is still clearly visible in this current high-water mark moment for bluegrass.
Known as one of the finest electric guitarists to ever pick up the six-string instrument, Garcia, who passed in 1995, is eternally known as the de facto leader and musical zeitgeist at the helm of the Grateful Dead. And yet, the foundation of Garcia’s playing and skillset lies in American roots music — folk, blues, and bluegrass.
Photo by Chris Stegner, courtesy of the Bluegrass Music Hall of Fame & Museum.
The exhibit weaves through Garcia’s early years as a folk musician in the 1950s, his lifelong friendship with musician/lyricist Robert Hunter, his time in a slew of acoustic outfits in the 1960s – including Mother McCree’s Uptown Jug Champions (an early footprint of the Dead) – as well as a keen focus on Garcia’s work in Old & In the Way and New Riders of the Purple Sage.
“I cried through the entire [opening weekend] press conference,” Cliff Seltzer, the exhibit’s creative director, says in a humbled tone. “I’ve been trying to keep my composure for this weekend because it’s overwhelming.”
For Seltzer, the journey to the opening weekend has been five years in the making. A well-known former artist manager, Seltzer was touring the museum in 2019 with one of his friends and clients, Vince Herman of Leftover Salmon. With curator Smith guiding the duo through the building, the group started kicking around ideas for what to put in a then-empty gallery portion of the second floor.
Photo by Chris Stegner, courtesy of the Bluegrass Music Hall of Fame & Museum.
“We’ve always talked about a Jerry Garcia exhibit, and it just kind of snowballed from there,” Smith says. “And it was very unexpected how open Jerry’s family was with [helping] us. What I’ve learned over the last two years, really working with them, is that bluegrass was part of [Jerry] — that’s what he was doing when he wasn’t on the road, that’s what he did at home.”
For the better part of the last half-decade, Smith, Seltzer and a small crew of folks roamed America, not only in search of Garcia artifacts to display (instruments, photographs, family heirlooms), but also numerous interviews with some of the biggest names in bluegrass to share in the exhibit — each talking at-length about Garcia’s cosmic lore, larger-than-life legends, and lasting legacy.
“Every genre of music has to morph and change. New people enter the fold and introduce new things,” Seltzer said. “With Billy [Strings], Molly Tuttle, Sierra Ferrell, and others, bluegrass is bigger [now] than it’s ever been — it’s only going to continue to grow.”
David Nelson joined by Sam Grisman, Ronnie McCoury, and Jason Carter on stage at the Bluegrass Hall of Fame. Photo by Emma McCoury.
Way before the Dead — before any of the melodic chaos and intrinsic beauty of what that band created onstage any given night for its 30-year tenure — there was Garcia himself, simply a huge bluegrass freak who, perhaps someday, would become a member of Bill Monroe & The Blue Grass Boys.
And although Garcia would eventually swerve into the electric sounds of rock and roll and blues, he was never too far from bluegrass. There were always side projects and low-key jam sessions with a bevy of acoustic musicians throughout the early years of the Dead in the 1960s and 1970s.
Most notable of those collaborations was with mandolin virtuoso David Grisman. Through Grisman, Garcia met guitarist Peter Rowan in 1972. A former member of Monroe’s Blue Grass Boys, Rowan found a kindred spirit — in sound and in attitude — with Garcia. The kismet trio would jam often at Garcia’s Stinson Beach, California, home, with Garcia plucking his trusty banjo.
“We started picking every night after supper [at Jerry’s],” Rowan says. “We went through old song books and learned a bunch of material. I remember singing ‘Land of the Navajo’ and looking at Jerry like, ‘This is really weird, isn’t it?’ He goes, ‘Keep going, man.’”
Peter Rowan speaks as Heaven McCoury looks on during the exhibition opening weekend festivities. Photo by Chris Stegner.
What was birthed from those happenstance pickin’ and grinnin’ sessions became bluegrass super group Old & In the Way. Like a shooting star in the tranquil night sky, the band — featuring Garcia, Rowan, Grisman, bassist John Kahn, and a revolving cast of fiddlers (Richard Greene, John Hartford, Vassar Clements) — would only last the better part of two years (1973-1974).
But, in it remains one of the most important and groundbreaking acts to ever emerge in the bluegrass scene. To note, Old & In the Way’s 1975 self-titled debut album went on to become the bestselling bluegrass album of all-time – until it was dethroned by the O Brother, Where Art Thou? soundtrack released in 2000.
Maria Muldaur performs. Photo by Chris Stegner.
Alongside an onslaught of beautifully touching performances (Leftover Salmon, Maria Muldaur, Jim Lauderdale, Kyle Tuttle, Peter Rowan, Ronnie McCoury, Sam Grisman Project) and poignant gatherings of artists and music lovers throughout the “Jerry Garcia: A Bluegrass Journey” opening weekend, there were also several panels taking place each day at the museum.
Of which, “Garcia: Legend & Lore of a Bluegrass Freak” featured Peter Rowan (Old & In the Way), David Nelson (New Riders of the Purple Sage), Pete Wernick (Hot Rize), Sam Grisman (son of David Grisman) and Eric Thompson (Mother McCree’s Uptown Jug Champions).
“Old & In the Way really helped everything get bigger,” Wernick says. “It was this whole group of material that means so much to all of us in the bluegrass scene — it suddenly became something that people all over the world knew about.”
Greg Garrison, Ronnie McCoury, Eric Thompson, and Jason Carter perform. Photo by Chris Stegner.
Below are a few excerpts for that artist panel conversation:
Eric Thompson: I grew up in Palo Alto, California, kind of the nexus point for the folk world in the early ’60s. Joan Baez was from there. The Kingston Trio was from there. I got into the bluegrass guitar in [1961]. [Jerry] ended up there after he got thrown out of the Army. He got into all kinds of folk music and he would just devour a style. [He’d say], “Oh, I’m going to do that,” then two weeks later he’s got a whole repertoire. I was 15 years old and made friends with Jerry right away — it changed my life.
David Nelson: We’d go down to Kepler’s bookstore, which is an old hangout in Palo Alto. There was a section of it where you could get an espresso, sit down at a picnic table, and read a book. And there’s this guy [there]. It’s summer, so he’s got his shirt open and [big] hair. And he’s playing a 12-string guitar. Somebody comes up and says, “That’s Jerry Garcia.” We went over and pitched the idea [of jamming together]. Sure enough, next Tuesday night, we’re waiting and waiting. Then, all of a sudden, here comes the car and there’s Jerry coming up the stairs with a guitar and some friends. It started off a whole [jamming] thing at the Boar’s Head [Tavern], which just went on for months and years maybe. [Jerry] was interested in bluegrass banjo and I was interested in bluegrass guitar. I got me a banjo. Jerry said, “Oh, man, borrow my guitar. Can I borrow this banjo?” He happened to have a 1940 Martin D-18 [guitar].
The Sam Grisman Project – featuring Victor Furtado, Logan Ledger, and more – take a bow. Photo by Emma McCoury.
Thompson: [Jerry] brought some openness to the approach [of bluegrass music]. I know [so] many people, who are mostly not bluegrass musicians, who found out about [bluegrass] because of Old & In the Way. It was open and expressive and, at the same time, paid respect to what came before. It was this new, intelligent thing. And intelligence is what Garcia brought to the music, [as well as] imagination, articulation.
Vince Herman and Jim Lauderdale harmonize. Photo by Chris Stegner.
Our latest guest on Toy Heart is bluegrasser, multi-instrumentalist, and songwriter Tim O’Brien. His conversation with host Tom Power begins by remembering the music of his childhood, growing up in Wheeling, West Virginia listening to Chubby Checker on his crystal radio set and attending the nationally renowned country variety show and radio broadcast, the Wheeling Jamboree. Encountering the music of Merle Haggard and Doc Watson via local radio and television, he fell in love with music as a kid before a few friends introduced him to Bill Monroe’s mandolin playing while smoking a post-gig joint as a teen.
After dropping out of college, O’Brien hitchhiked west to Wyoming, before landing in Colorado and eventually founding Hot Rize in the mid to late ‘70s with newly married and relocated Dr. Banjo himself, Pete Wernick. Over the course of their winding and dense conversation, Power and O’Brien chat about Gibson mandolins, the burgeoning Colorado string band scene, working with Bill Monroe, and the strange, circuitous story of his fiddle’s provenance.
O’Brien’s career, as multifaceted as it has been, is a wellspring of stories, anecdotes, and yarns about the bluegrass scene of the ‘80s and ‘90s, Irish music, writing hit country songs, working with and alongside so many first generation bluegrass legends, and the inception of Hot Rize’s alter ego band, Red Knuckles & the Trailblazers. Having recorded and performed with the Chieftains, Darrell Scott, the Transatlantic Sessions, and so many others, Tim O’Brien’s career is a melting pot of styles and sounds with one primary throughline: the true originality of his own musical vocabulary. As Power puts it, “I couldn’t tell you what Tim O’Brien sounds like, but I know Tim O’Brien when I hear it.”
Our Toy Heart episode examines O’Brien’s expansive and impressive career at a fascinating juncture in its span, as he shifts from being a bluegrass and Americana workhorse to a forebear, mentor, and roots music elder to entire generations of young musicians.
While playing music in a bar, Tammy Rogers of The SteelDrivers learned a lesson that would guide her life choices. After Rogers graduated from college, she was happily earning her living as a musician. But she wondered if it was enough.
“I felt like it was all about me, rather than what I could give back and put into the world.” She had considered teaching or studying music therapy, thinking that, “Maybe I needed to be actively doing something to help.”
Here’s where the bar band comes in.
“I remember this like it was yesterday. I sang a gospel song.” Rogers said. “And after the set, a couple came up to me and said, ‘Thank you so much for singing that song. It meant so much to us.’ And it was like a light bulb came on – answering the question, ‘What should I be doing with my life?’”
For Rogers, the interaction with that couple in the bar was God giving her the message that she was doing what she was meant to do.
“The music that you write, the music that you play can touch people and help them, whether it’s in happiness or sorrow.”
Bluegrass musicians often incorporate old and new gospel songs into their performances. Whether it’s the melodies, the spine-tingling harmonies, the familiarity, or the content, gospel music has an enduring appeal to the full spectrum of bluegrass fans, regardless of culture or religion.
Last year, The SteelDrivers, as well as the young band High Fidelity, produced gospel albums – Tougher Than Nails and Music In My Soul, respectively – and Chris Jones released a gospel track, “Step Out in the Sunshine.” For them, the music is personal. They all come from a place of faith and sincere connection to the good news of the gospel, as well as loving the music itself.
In the rural communities where bluegrass began, life often centered around church, as a place of prayer, music, and friendship. Eventually, Southern gospel music also took on a life independent of worship.
Wayne Erbsen wrote in his charming book, Rural Roots of Bluegrass, “By the 1850s, songwriters were composing new gospel songs to appeal to the thousands who flocked to the rapidly growing number of shape-note singing conventions throughout the south.”
These lucrative gatherings – possibly more entertainment than spiritual – continued well into the 20th century. Erbsen told BGS that people would bring the books they already owned, but when they arrived, “they had to buy more books” to learn the new songs. The publishers hired excellent performers to attend the conventions and inspire the singers.
Erbsen wrote, “The songs and styles that were part of this shape-note singing convention tradition eventually merged with bluegrass instrumental and vocal styles to create a new genre now known as bluegrass gospel.”
Bill Monroe, like others of his generation, was exposed to religious-themed music. While performing with brother Charlie, Monroe’s first hit record was “What Would You Give in Exchange for Your Soul?” And just as he learned the blues from Black fiddler Arnold Shultz, he was “fascinated by the music of the Black churches,” Chris Jones said. That’s where Monroe learned “Walking in Jerusalem,” popular today for its rich harmonies.
High Fidelity – Jeremy Stephens, Corrina Rose Logston Stephens, Kurt Stephenson, Daniel Amick, and Vickie Vaughn – is steeped in traditional bluegrass. Corrina’s parents got hooked on Reno & Smiley and the Stanley Brothers looking through department store record bins – and Corrina has stayed close to the traditional fold ever since. “It feels like it’s in my blood,” she said.
Jeremy learned to sing harmony from his grandfather. After he picked up the fiddle, a school bus driver made him a cassette tape of classic bluegrass. “And that tape was transformative to me,” he shared.
All of High Fidelity’s music is infused with the harmonies, instrumentation, and themes of early bluegrass performers. The friends who make up High Fidelity (the name comes from the words often on labels of early bluegrass records) came together as a band to compete in the SPBGMA band contest. They never imagined they would take first place. So, “It was this overwhelming gift that we won,” Corinna said. “It almost felt like divine intervention.”
“And everyone in High Fidelity is spiritual,” she continues. “We’re all Christian folks. We all identify with the songs that we’re singing.” So, from the earliest days, she said, they felt a gospel album was in their future, to “honor the Lord and thank him for giving us this gift.”
During a long period of illness that Corinna later learned was caused by toxic mold in their home (they since have moved out, and she feels a lot better), she received another gift from God, she said. She woke in the early hours of the morning with a song in her head that was so compelling, she had to get out of bed to record it. “And almost all of the verses just came out, bypassing my conscious brain.”
That song is “The Mighty Name of Jesus.” It is a centerpiece of, and the only original on, their recording, Music In My Soul. Corinna said, “We wanted [the project] to feel like a quintessential High Fidelity record, very bluegrassy.”
She wanted to emulate another early hero, Carl Story. When listening to Story, she said, “It wouldn’t even register that I was listening to a gospel record. It was just such good bluegrass… I wanted Carl Story’s vibes.”
Their recording successfully and joyously channels the spirit and musicality of the earliest bluegrass stars. High Fidelity worked hard to find little-known gospel songs from a variety of sources, performing them with the same enthusiastic vigor that they bring to their secular music. Listeners will recognize classic banjo introductions and harmony variations that have been passed through generations since bluegrass hit the radio.
And just as Music in the Soul is undoubtedly High Fidelity, nobody but The SteelDrivers could have created Tougher Than Nails. It is gritty, bluesy and achingly human.
Rogers said that for years, The SteelDrivers’ most requested song has been “Where Rainbows Never Die,” from the 2010 recording Reckless.
“We’ve gotten so many emails, messages, people come up to us at shows, telling us how they’ve played the song at their dad’s funeral or for grandpa or whomever and how much it’s meant to them.
“It doesn’t say the word God. It doesn’t say the word Jesus. It doesn’t even use the term heaven. But it is a gospel song, a spiritual song. It’s about passing on to the next life. To me, it is such a powerful, beautiful way of sharing,” Rogers said.
In the same way, she said, a SteelDrivers’ gospel collection wouldn’t be “preaching at people or using even the language they’re familiar with. But if the message is the same, why not?”
On Tougher Than Nails, expect the same gutsy, no-holds-barred, gorgeous vocals that we love from The SteelDrivers. Their original gospel songs are as much about the dangers, choices, and blessings of humanity as their songs about liquor, guns, guitars, and heartache.
They ask us to think about Mary Magdalene, and how she balanced love for the man with love for the divine. They wonder if Judas’ heart broke as he fulfilled his destiny of betrayal. And they celebrate the victory of love over the cruelty of crucifixion.
Even “Amazing Grace” is uniquely SteelDrivers – starting with a primitive drone that weaves into the blues-driven rhythms we associate with Black Baptist church choirs.
Chris Jones is one of the most enduring and admired singers in modern bluegrass. He also is a SiriusXM radio host and writer, and a respected commentator on all things bluegrass.
Jones recently recorded “Step Out In the Sunshine.” Jones learned the song from listening to Ralph Stanley on Jones’ “all-time favorite gospel album.” It’s a song of hope and joy.
“I think the feeling and sincerity of gospel music touches all different kinds of people. It has a broad appeal, whether you’re a believer or not,” Jones said.
He noted that many bluegrass fans relate to melodies and arrangements and often overlook the lyrics. He referred to a listener who loved the song, “Julie Ann,” because it was so happy. (It’s up-tempo, but sung by a man begging his wife not to leave him.) But lyrics do matter to the musicians who sing them.
Jones echoed a sentiment reflected in the gospel choices of High Fidelity and The SteelDrivers. A religious commitment “makes you a little more selective of what you’re willing to sing. Is this a message I really want to send to people?” Jones chooses gospel songs that are welcoming and inclusive.
High Fidelity’s Jeremy Stephens said they avoided lyrics that sounded like condemnation, the ones that say, “You’re bad because you do this and you’re bad because you do that.” He said Music In My Soul “is our hearts talking to your hearts… the Lord said, ‘Come to me as you are.’ There’s so much peace and love and acceptance in him.”
Award-winning singer and guitar player Greg Blake currently performs with his own band as well as with Special Consensus. Blake had a ministry for 30 years before becoming a full-time musician. He said he has learned a lot over the years about judgement, love, and being open-hearted. And his insights inform his choice of spiritually-oriented songs.
“When I was younger, and probably more zealous and less informed, I felt like I needed to be ‘right.’ But as I got older and looked at the teachings of Jesus, I saw that his message was more about right relationships,” rather than proper dogma or theology.
So today, Blake says, “I like to bring into gospel even songs that may not have a strong Christian element, but are just good, positive songs… that leave one with a sense of hope and love and care for one another. I think that’s the message that people of the world need to hear today.”
Photo Credit: Photo of the SteelDrivers courtesy of the artist; photo of High Fidelity by Amy Richmond.
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