Tag: blind willie johnson

Buffalo Nichols Champions Blues in the 21st Century

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Singer-songwriter and instrumentalist Carl “Buffalo” Nichols loves and treasures the blues, but he acknowledges that his vision of what the music can and should do differs greatly from that of many performers he’s met in the field. Indeed, Nichols, whose brilliant new LP, The Fatalist – his second for Fat Possum, which dropped September 15 – doesn’t mince words when he discusses the issues he faces and the things he wants to see change in regards to the music, as well as attitudes held by many in positions of authority in regards to its promotion and distribution. 

“I tell folks I’m a songwriter initially, because when you say you’re a blues musician, then there’s a whole bunch of stereotyped impressions that you’ve got to get beyond,” Nichols said during a lengthy recent phone interview with BGS. “There was a period there a couple of years ago, right after George Floyd, where for a time there was this sense, or at least it was being said, that the blues community needed to change, we needed to diversify, to become more relevant and reflective of things happening in America. But now that seems to have passed, and we’re back to the same old thing. There’s too much conservatism among the older crowd, who often are in control of the blues radio stations and who are responsible for why the music isn’t more widely heard and accepted. And there’s too many artists just putting the same stuff out there.”

Nichols is among a growing number of African American artists anxious to smash idiomatic barriers regarding not just blues, but American music, period. He is a master at carefully paying attention to traditional values like keen storytelling, soulful delivery and expressive lyrics, while also utilizing contemporary elements and devices. The Fatalist includes a stunning cover of Blind Willie Johnson’s majestic “You’re Gonna Need Somebody On Your Bond.” The LP’s first single, Nichols’ robust baritone soars through the message of salvation with vigor, driving home both its urgent intensity and evocative theme. However, Nichols also says the song epitomizes another part of the dilemma he faces regarding broadening the blues’ appeal.

“That one kind of gets caught in a double trap,” Nichols continued. “On the one hand, you’ve got religious lyrics, then on the other you’ve got the blues sensibility. So, while the traditionalists who know Blind Willie Johnson love it, it has a hard time getting past the gatekeepers, because it also has some contemporary production touches. That’s kind of the double struggle you face. You’ve got the white traditionalist and conservative types who are dominating the blues marketplace, then when you’re trying to reach the Black audience, you’ve got what they call the ‘urban contemporary market.’ Because it’s blues they won’t play it.”

Still, Nichols is making some headway on the scene, both critically and in terms of gaining followers. He says he’s seeing a lot more young folks in his audience, as well as more Black fans. Though his appeal and notoriety don’t yet match that of a Christone “Kingfish” Ingram or a Shemekia Copeland, Nichols is steadily gaining more attention and acclaim. He opened several dates last year for Valerie June, another marvelous Black performer whose music incorporates classic and current sounds. He stands prominently alongside other rising blues stars like Gary Clark Jr., Marquise Knox and Eric Gales. The Fatalist reflects the vision and scope of a 30-something performer whose background includes at various times being in a grindcore band (Concrete Horizon), and playing folk and Americana, while also being part of a duo in Milwaukee (Nickel & Rose) with bassist Johanna Rose. His disenchantment with an Americana scene he considered overwhelmingly white and less than encouraging to his artistic vision led him to Fat Possum.

“I really felt it was important at this stage to have a label behind me,” Nichols said in response to a question about why he chose to sign with Fat Possum. “While it’s not the type of thing where we’re sitting down and trying to pick songs for radio, it is a thing where they’ve been very supportive and encouraging. They’ve provided me a place and a forum for what I want to do, and they appreciate my vision and are doing all they can to help me.” 

The Mississippi-based label was once widely celebrated for its championing of hill country blues greats R.L. Burnside and Junior Kimbrough, but in recent years had drifted far away from that model. Buffalo Nichols, his debut release, was the company’s first blues outing in two decades. It set the stage for The Fatalist, whose eight songs reveal a strong songwriting focus Nichols says is indicative of both personal growth and his desire to use the blues form to do more than rip through scales and display great individual musicianship. “I’ve been a guitarist for 20 years, but it’s really only been the last 10 that I think I’ve really grown as a songwriter,” he continued. “Being able to express myself is a challenge, and using the blues to do it is what drives me.”

There’s no question that The Fatalist doesn’t necessarily adhere to the standard blues formula, and that’s setting aside the presence of drum machine tracks and enhanced sonic quality. Its song sequencing and overall lyrical flow are edgy and compelling.

Standout cuts like “Love Is All” or “The Difference” offer contrasting views of a relationship. The former is optimism grounded in the wisdom of admitting that even good guys can go astray, while the latter spotlights a breakup that doesn’t so much place blame as document the painful end of something that was once glorious. There’s also the hard-hitting opening number “Cold Black Stare,” and the triumphant finale, “This Moment,” that features special guest vocalist Samantha Rose. The album has a sonic clarity and power that puts it in a league with anything done at a state-of-the-art studio in Nashville, LA, or New York, yet it was recorded in Nichols’ home – and he produced it. The decision to cut it there is also part of a larger career change that Nichols made last year, when he moved back to Milwaukee after spending years in Austin.

“In some ways it’s harder for me now being back home,” Nichols said. “But in other ways it’s good, because now I have to do it myself. I don’t have the machinery or the apparatus or the surroundings that I would have in Nashville or Austin or LA. It’s like it was when I was growing up. I’m being responsible for my own music now, and that’s a good thing creatively, even if from a business aspect sometimes there’s a struggle.” 

Buffalo Nichols is now in the midst of an extensive tour, with the American portion running through mid-December, then a European leg beginning in early January and continuing through mid-February (for now). While being adamant about not setting goals, Nichols says he definitely has things he wants to accomplish career-wise.

“For me, I always want to look ahead, I want to progress as a songwriter and a guitarist,” Nichols concluded. “I don’t ever want to make the same music over and over. I don’t want to be predictable. I want to contribute something original, something that when I’m gone people will look back and say that this was something fresh and inventive that Buffalo Nichols made.”

Photo Credit: Samer Ghani

MIXTAPE: Steve Dawson’s Crash Course in Slide Guitar and Steel Guitar

Posted on by Editor

Slide guitar has been a lifelong fascination for me. I got into it when my uncle gave me a slide for my birthday when I was about 13. I had no idea how to use it, but eventually figured it out by copying Mick Taylor on Sticky Fingers, and I went from there. I’ve gone pretty deep, and find the roots of slide to be very fascinating. I’d like to share this playlist with you to show you some of the music that has inspired me in my journey. It definitely favors the early generations of players from the ’20s to the ’70s, but this playlist is meant to show you where it all comes from and what inspired me.

There wasn’t much slide going on in the ’80s that I was interested in as a kid, but there certainly are a lot of great players around now in the post-Derek Trucks era. In showing you where my influences are, this is a pretty good list. It covers blues, Hawaiian, jazz, rock, experimental, the whole nine yards. I even get into pedal steel a little bit, as there are a few important ones for me, but I won’t go too far into that world. I like how this playlist works totally out of chronological order, I hope you do, too. Enjoy! — Steve Dawson

King Bennie Nawahi – “Hawaiian Capers”

King Bennie is my favorite of all the pre-war Hawaiian players. He was very creative and inspired, and played in lots of different bands. He was basically a vaudeville/street performer who also recorded. I wrote a song, loosely based on his life on my new album, but this is one of his great performances.

Tampa Red – “Reckless Man Blues”

Tampa Red was probably the most sophisticated player of the pre-war slide players. He had sort of a jazz sensibility but could also get down in the greasy stuff. I like both of those aspects of his playing.

Kevin Breit – “Uncle John’s Third Wife”

Kevin is a brilliant musician from Toronto who I got to know and play with a number of times. He is incredible to watch and can shred with the best of them, but his compositions are often haunting and beautiful like this one. He put out a resonator/slide record some years ago called “empty” that remains one of my favorite albums to this day.

Jim and Bob – “The Song of the Range”

This duo was so creative and impressive. Their arrangements were top-notch and the playing is phenomenal. So fast, clean and sophisticated. They were obviously hip to a lot of the jazz horn players of the day.

Tedeschi Trucks Band – “Made Up Mind”

To me, slide players fall into the pre and post-Derek Trucks camp. There are things that he does as a player that no one did before and pretty much anyone that learned to play since he’s been around has been influenced by him, and you can tell. There’s tons of great Derek Trucks stuff out there, but I always dug this melodic, yet ripping solo.

Bob Wills and his Texas Playboys – “Steel Guitar Rag”

Bob wasn’t the steel player — Leon McAuliffe was. This is basically the bible of electric steel guitar playing. It’s not the most complex, or the flashiest, but most modern steel and slide playing can eventually be traced back to this ripping little number. Dig Bob doing the cat calls throughout!

Sonny Landreth – “Yokamama”

Sonny came out of the Louisiana Zydeco scene and played with John Hiatt on tour and on some great records. This is a very cool instrumental that was a big influence on me when it first came out. He really sent slide guitar in some new directions with innovative techniques.

Elmore James – “The Sky Is Crying”

Elmore basically electrified the slide and popularized the riff that anyone with an open-tuned guitar first learns to play. It’s kind of ruined electric slide guitar if you go and see a blues band at your local bar, but when you hear the guy that invented it do it this well with such tone, it’s a whole different ball of wax!

Ry Cooder – “How Can You Keep on Moving?”

For me, this has everything I like about slide playing rolled up into one song and one solo. It’s probably my favorite piece of recorded electric slide guitar ever made. Sort of simple, but incredibly difficult to play this well. It’s got all the great playing of the early era Ry and the tone is unreal. It’s cool that the solo is acoustic and the rest of the song is electric. And the rhythm playing is insanely cool throughout.

Ben Harper – “Manhattan”

I saw Ben Harper in Vancouver in about ’93 before his first album came out. He was opening for Tommy Emmanuel. There were about 10 people there. Ben played totally acoustic and it blew my mind. I’ve never forgotten that show. For me, and what I like about his playing, which is raw simplicity and soul, his recent album (all instrumental) Wintertime Is For Lovers is the best thing he’s ever done and it brings me back to that concert.

Roy Smeck – “12th Street Rag”

Smeck was a vaudeville guy and also quite widely recorded. He’s a phenomenal slide player and also just as great on regular guitar and ukulele. He had one of the earliest signature model guitars — the Gibson Roy Smeck.

Sol Hoopii – “Patches”

Sol was one of the greatest Hawaiian players and was actually very famous at the time. He came to the mainland in the mid-’20s and kicked off a nationwide Hawaiian craze that influenced music and pop culture. It was said that Sol would get hired to come to movie sets and play songs like this one to make the stars all weepy before their crying scenes. Sol was magnificent.

Muddy Waters – “Long Distance Call”

Muddy was the link between Robert Johnson and Chicago blues — he electrified it and made it commercial and exciting. Not the technical expert that Johnson was, Muddy had tone and feel for days.

David Lindley – “Your Old Lady”

I love Lindley’s electric steel playing, but in the ’90s he devoted himself to more acoustic music, although his instruments are always plugged in and sound massive. He had a few duos with percussionists like Hani Nasser and Wally Ingram that are phenomenal. The Weissenborn playing of this period of his career was hugely influential to me, but none of it is available in the digital realm, so here’s a great one from the ’80s.

Taj Mahal – “Statesboro Blues”

I love Duane Allman, and he’s on this list, of course, but if you can listen to this version of this song and tell me he didn’t get 90% of what he does from Jesse Ed Davis playing with Taj on this one, I’ll buy you a sandwich.

Allman Brothers – “Trouble No More”

Duane Allman at his finest. This one was huge for me.

Mick Taylor – “Sway”

I got into slide because of Sticky Fingers. I had no idea how to do it or what he was doing, or even who he was yet, but it was Mick Taylor who got me into it and especially considering he wasn’t 20 years old at this point, it’s pretty insane. The first solo on this one is Mick playing. And I’m pretty sure it’s Mick Jagger playing the other guitar part, not Keith.

Bill Frisell – “The Pioneers”

This is the song that got me into playing pedal steel. I’m not going to go down the pedal steel rabbit hole on this playlist, but this song and steel solo (by Greg Leisz) definitely changed my life, so I thought I’d include it.

Jerry Douglas – “The Hymn of Ordinary Motion”

Jerry has redefined the dobro as an instrument capable of playing in all genres, not just bluegrass. He came from a bluegrass background, but has gone on to be one of the great instrumentalists of our time. He is also very prolific and has tons of records to pick from, but this is an interesting one and shows his killer melodic playing that everyone who plays the dobro copies to one extent or another.

Blind Willie Johnson – “Dark Was The Night, Cold Was The Ground”

I mean, if one song shows the power of slide guitar at its moodiest, this is the one. Frightening, all these decades later.

Photo Credit: Laura Partain

LISTEN: Jackson Melnick, “John the Revelator”

Posted on by Editor

Artist: Jackson Melnick
Hometown: Crested Butte, Colorado
Song: “John the Revelator”
Album: Abilene
Release Date: September 24, 2021

In Their Words: “Apocalypse isn’t to be confused with tragedy. Apocalypse is seeing something in truth, and the pain that might come from having the blinders pulled off. The Book of Revelation, where the characters in this song first emerged, is worth looking at. Or, if you are like me, you can listen to Blind Willie Johnson play slide guitar and sing ‘John the Revelator’ and read the Bible as a chaser. I was struck that the traditional blues song was never adapted to bluegrass music; the theme of the song fit so well, along with the haunting chorus. Perhaps it never was brought into the pantheon due to a kind of musical red-lining in the past, but for those who really know, bluegrass is rooted in Black music and the blues — Arnold Shultz, Bill Monroe’s musical mentor, is only one well-known example. The traditional song’s lyrics didn’t translate melodically well to bluegrass, so I invented some new ones that fit with an apocalyptic narrative — my apocalyptic narrative — which I think is a little more optimistic. I hope Mr. Monroe’s ghost enjoys this song.

“When I worked the song out over a traditional bluegrass progression, it really became one of the most electric bluegrass songs I had ever heard. Alex Leach, a well-regarded banjoist and songwriter himself, and Christopher Henry, the premier Monroe style mandolinist and producer of the new album (notably in Peter Rowan’s Band for a long while now), both helped to bring to the song the tones that make it feel like a classic. Christopher is somebody who knows Mr. Monroe’s language with perfect fluency, the improvisational spirit of it rather than a note for note reflection of Mr. Monroe’s picking. Alex Leach played in what became of the Clinch Mountain Boys. Christopher and I asked him to be on it as a nod to Dr. Stanley, and he lets it rip. I felt something strange and new writing this song, with the narrative of it being an apocalyptic story, but somehow on the rejoicing side of that story. True believers, or I think anyone with real spiritual faith, will relate to the uplifting quality of the song. Singing through the apocalypse — whatever apocalypse you might encounter — it is quite the spiritual test of real faith and true eternal life, and one I hope to emanate.” — Jackson Melnick

Photo credit: Bellamy Brewster

The Show On The Road – Larkin Poe

Posted on by Chris Jacobs

This week, we finish off this season of The Show On The Road with a powerful, Southern sister act that has been wowing audiences around the world with their transformative take on stomping blues and cagey, slide-guitar-driven rock ‘n’ roll: Larkin Poe.


LISTEN: APPLE PODCASTS • SPOTIFY • STITCHER • MP3
As it is nearly Halloween it would behoove us to mention that Rebecca Lovell (who sings lead) and Megan Lovell, (who commands the stellar slide-work) are indeed distant relatives of Edgar Allan Poe. Their name came from another long-gone grandfather, however, after their eldest singing sister Jessica stepped away from the band, leaving the younger sisters to contemplate if they wanted to continue playing bluegrassy, harmony-rich folk music — which had gotten them on shows like A Prairie Home Companion — or to strike out in a new direction.

Taking inspiration from their frontiersmen-inspired family, who often built and made everything themselves, Rebecca and Megan indeed took DIY to a new level: they have written, produced, and performed nearly all their own records and EPs themselves. They often pay homage to legends like Robert Johnson, Blind Willie Johnson, and more modern greats like The Allman Brothers and The Moody Blues, while they also put their own rawboned stamp on stellar ZZ-Top-esque originals like “Self-Made Man,” which is also the title of their newest record.

While the sisters admit that doing almost everything in-house can be like walking a tricky tightrope, the results have been encouraging. From show-stopping appearances at festivals like Glastonbury, to opening for the revivified touring version of Queen (Brian May is a new fan), to headlining the 2020 Mahindra Blues Festival in Mumbai, India, to snagging a Grammy nom for their hard-stomping record, Venom & Faith, one would think that they should keep on following their DIY instincts.

Larkin Poe doesn’t plan on taking it easy even though they haven’t been able to tour in 2020 — in November they will release Kindred Spirits, a collection of beloved stripped-back covers. Stick around to the end of the show to hear their acoustic version of Lenny Kravitz’s “Fly Away.”

Photo credit: Bree Marie Fish

MIXTAPE: Ocie Elliott’s Favourite Folk Through the Ages

Posted on by Editor

Folk music, especially acoustic ballad folk, country folk, and early blues, has always held a special place in my heart and soul. From a young age, my dad would pull out his acoustic guitar when we’d go camping and around the campfire he would sing the family a folk song or two, mostly acoustic versions of Johnny Horton’s “The Battle of New Orleans” and “Sink the Bismarck.” The sound of the acoustic guitar and voice and their telling of a tale touched something deep inside me and my love for folk music was begun. Here are some of my (and our) favourite songs in this genre through the ages. — Jon Middleton, Ocie Elliott

The Carter Family – “Chewing Gum”

While not necessarily my favourite song by the Carter Family, there is something unique and uplifting about this one. I’ve always thought that Kurt Cobain would have loved it.

Lead Belly – “The Grey Goose”

Lead Belly is definitely one of the best ever, such an incredible songwriter. To me his power lies in the uniqueness of his sound; no one wrote songs like him either. The first time I heard this it filled me with so much joy: I could hear it being performed with a big group of people all singing the “lord, lord, lord” part. I’ve also always imagined Toots and the Maytals covering this song.

Blind Willie Johnson – “Trouble Will Soon Be Over”

My favourite blues artist of all time, Blind Willie Johnson’s voice and slide-guitar playing are otherworldly. This tune has such a beautiful melody and feel, it also displays the softer side of his voice and the female accompaniment adds a lovely depth to it all.

Mississippi John Hurt – “Spike Driver Blues”

The first time I heard his 1928 recordings my mind was blown. He has had the biggest influence on my fingerpicking without a doubt. The melody he picks in this song is just so beautifully circular, bouncy and perfect.

Doc Watson and Clarence Ashley – “Old Ruben”

I love the recordings these two did together — there is something very vibrant, authentic and alive in them. I think this song is my favourite of all of them, although “The Coo-Coo Bird” is a close second.

Johnny Cash – “Dark as a Dungeon” (Live at Folsom State Prison)

This whole album is amazing, but this song has always stood out, partly because it sounds like something to be sung around a campfire, but also because his voice is so rich and deep — it’s the perfect voice for this song.

Bob Dylan – “I Threw it All Away”

It’s impossible to pick a favourite from someone who has written more classics than most songwriter’s output in total. But I choose this one because oddly enough, this album (Nashville Skyline) was what led me into Dylan’s universe (I purchased it because it had Johnny Cash singing with Dylan on one song). Needless to say, I fell in deep.

John Prine – “Mexican Home”

We cover a number of John Prine’s songs, including “In Spite of Ourselves” and “Long Monday,” but one of our favourites that we don’t cover is “Mexican Home.” Both recorded versions are great in their own way, but the studio version feels truer to the content.

Guy Clark – “Anyhow, I Love You”

One of our favourite duets. A friend of ours showed us this song a few years back and we immediately started to learn it and sing it. It’s a very special and unique tune, especially in the lyrical phrasing.

The Country Gentlemen – “Fox on the Run” (Live)

I love that this was first recorded as a rock ‘n’ roll song by Manfred Mann. The Country Gentlemen’s version and harmonies literally sound like the lyrics, especially the line: “Her hair shone like gold in the hot morning sun.”

Loudon Wainwright III – “The Swimming Song”

We were also introduced to this by a friend and ever since then we’ve been in love with it. It’s uplifting, but also has this tinge of melancholy to it.

Mason Jennings – “Crown”

A favourite songwriter of ours, I’ve been in love with his music ever since I bought one of his albums on a whim in L.A. and drove with it the whole way back up the coast to San Francisco. Once there, I immediately pulled into Amoeba Records and purchased another.

Gillian Welch – “Winter’s Come and Gone”

Gillian Welch and David Rawlings are one of our biggest influences as a group. When Sierra and I first met, our first connection was made over a mutual love for Gillian Welch, and the first song we ever played together was “Look at Miss Ohio.” Something about this song though, the whole album really.

Gregory Alan Isakov – “Amsterdam”

This song has a rich, wonderful vibe to it — the recording quality, the playing, the mixing and of course, the tune itself. It feels like a warm blanket on a rainy day.

Photo credit: Dustin Rabin

BGS 5+5: Ross Holmes

Posted on by Editor

Artist: Ross Holmes
Hometown: Fort Worth, Texas
Latest album: Not Very Good at Winning
Nickname: ‘Rooster’ is a nickname that has lingered since the glory days of Cadillac Sky.

What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?

I can’t say I have one favorite memory from being onstage, but I do have a great story about a particular gig in late 2014. As a native Texan, there isn’t a more sacred shrine than the Alamo. I’d been invited to perform at an annual ceremony in March of ’14 inside the Alamo chapel. I wound up composing an original piece an hour before the event honoring those who perished in the fight.

An iPhone recording I made of the piece, “We Fall a Sacrifice,” made its way to Phil Collins (who is an avid collector of artifacts from the battle of the Alamo and war for Texas independence), and I was invited to perform this tune again at a ceremony honoring Phil for the donation of his extensive collection to the state.

We took it a step further and, with permission from the Witte Museum in San Antonio, borrowed Davy Crockett’s supposed fiddle for the gala. Here I was, onstage with Crockett’s fiddle at the Alamo, playing this piece I’d written, in the presence of presidents, politicians, astronauts, sports legends, and recognized Texans. My sister, Katie Shore (Asleep at the Wheel), joined me for the set and, to this day, we still laugh at the absurd “WTF just happened” of that evening.

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

Imagery and color stimulate my musical thinking the most. I often turn on films or pull out prints of my favorite artists to glean inspiration from their creativity while I practice. The imagination of others is revelatory and channeling the intent of these minds has helped me grow as a composer and player.

Try this sometime: turn on Planet Earth, mute your TV, and play a soundtrack for the episode as you’re watching. Let the dynamic environment of each scene take you to a place of quiet calm or intense fear. You’ll be amazed at what comes out, maybe a familiar idea you filed away will emerge again, or maybe a new melody or groove will come to you. If anything, it’s really fun to provide fiddle accompaniment to snakes chasing lizards and sloths chilling on a branch.

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

I don’t have a set routine when I record or when I take the stage, as those environments are always changing. I do, though, have a special relationship with my case and the process of opening it and taking out my violin and bow. My case is my home-away-from-home and inside I keep a small, personal collection of memories. I find it’s a spiritual experience to unlatch and lift the lid, remove the blanket over my violin, and prepare my heart and mind to play. Those first moments are filled with thoughts and energy, like a prayer, and the respect I show my instrument feels like an abiding friendship when the first notes come so easily.

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

Early in my career I focused, obsessively, on being the “best” player I could be — the most technical, cleanest, impressive, etc., because I felt those skills would prove to listeners I was “elite.” Time has gone by, life has happened, victories and losses, the ups and downs that come with this profession, then something clicked a couple of years ago. I arrived at a point where I didn’t care about being the “best” anymore (thank god), and a new word replaced that selfish adjective — HONEST. I will always push the limits and challenge boundaries, but now my heart’s desire is to simply be the most honest musician I can be. That’s my mission statement, “In all things, be honest.” That’s it.

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

There’s no hiding that I’m a bona fide space junkie, completely taken with the cosmos and the notion of leaving earth on the greatest adventures to explore the deep expanse of our universe (I have a tattoo of the Apollo SM, CM, and LM on my right arm). We can’t see beyond blue skies during the day, but we know endless creation is still above us. When night falls and the sky is peeled back, the heavens are once again revealed and we sit and gaze at the mysteries between the stars.

The relationship between mankind and space and music is intrinsically linked because of curiosity and our need to explore. The greatest composers and players continue to seek new heights with their melodies, chords, and expression because that is our nature, journey to the new place. What will beings find on that golden record affixed to Voyager? Bach. Chuck Berry. Blind Willie Johnson. The human voice.

Photo credit: Allen Clark

Eschewing Authenticity: A Conversation with Willie Watson

Posted on by Editor

When Willie Watson steps out alone on stage in Allston, Massachusetts, he looks every bit as though he’s wandered out of another time. His wide-brimmed hat, plain button-down shirt, and twangy banter all pin him to a different era. Beginning to play the banjo, Watson overlays his preferred clawhammer style with warbling vibrato, all of which add to the picture — as if he’d been among the musicians who traipsed to Bristol, Tennessee, to participate in Ralph Peer’s recording sessions in 1927. Comments about authenticity have long dogged him, but Watson prefers to avoid such talk. He’s not attempting to recreate so much as create, and he just so happens to be using the past for inspiration.

The former Old Crow Medicine Show member is touring behind his sophomore solo album, Folksinger Vol. 2, which culls an array of folk songs — for example “Gallows Pole,” “The Cuckoo Bird,” and “John Henry.” To gain his footing, Watson looked to Lead Belly, Reverend Gary Davis, and more as models. For him, they’re players who created such magic through their respective voices and instruments that he jealously sought ways to participate in that feeling many decades later. He recorded Folksinger Vol. 2 with David Rawlings on analog tape, nodding to a sepia-colored sound. But for those who consider what he does in purist terms, Watson eschews such notions. This isn’t about a musician chasing the past or attempting to preserve it; the latest batch of songs on his new album are his attempt to get closer to a style of music he loves and hopes others might happen to enjoy.

Do you ever get the feeling you should’ve been born in a different time period?

No, not at all. I think there’s a time and place for all this kind of music. If it were a different time, then I wouldn’t have all these other influences that inform what I do and the way that I do it. I think I’m in just the right time. Sometimes this modern world can wear me down a little bit, but for the most part, it’s all good.

Your catalogue seems like a tip of the hat to the array of music Harry Smith once collected for the Anthology of American Folk Music. Why was it important for you to draw on so many different styles?

I didn’t really think of it as important; it’s just the stuff that I love. I don’t know that any of this is important. A lot of people seem to focus on that, like, “Oh, this is so historic and it’s preserving history.” The songs that I put on there, they’re just because I love all this old music and I want to do it all. I listen to a Neil Young record with Crazy Horse and I’m thinking, “These guys are having a really, really good time.” That sounds like something I wanna do. I really don’t wanna go out and play football with the neighbors, and I really don’t wanna go to track practice, and I certainly don’t want to study math, but I really want to be on that stage with Neil Young. It’s the same with this old music. You listen to Lead Belly singing with the Golden Gate Quartet and you think, “That’s some fun stuff.” It changes over the years, as you grow and you mature; your influences and things change. But I don’t know if it’s important. If it’s important to somebody else, then great. It’s important to me … hey, I don’t even know why it’s important to me.

Well something clicks. It’s a spark.

Yeah.

You’ve mentioned that you’re not trying to be a purist. To some extent, that mindset has run through and still runs through bluegrass and other folk traditions. Why is it important for you to avoid that restriction?

Just because it is a restriction, and I don’t like any of those restrictions. I can only do things in the way I know how. I never really liked bluegrass music; I never listened to bluegrass. It was okay, but it’s certainly not what captured my attention. What got my attention was old-time string band music and people like Lead Belly. Bluegrass, to me, seemed uptight. It seemed like those guys were wearing suits, and they all sounded exactly the same. It’s this very formal and very standardized thing that never attracted me at all. I couldn’t have cared less about banjo until I discovered what clawhammer banjo was, and what old-time string music sounded like. Since then, I’ve learned to appreciate bluegrass, and I’ve learned to love bluegrass, and I’ve learned the differences between certain people and certain players, but that came over time.

Interesting that you mention the formality of bluegrass because I know, in the ‘60s, listeners saw a more commercialized version of folk with the Kingston Trio and others.

Yeah, again that ‘60s scene, too, is sort of the same story as bluegrass.

It wasn’t what you were looking for.

No, definitely not. I was listening to some radio show, and this guy played something on the station … this guy was singing a song about all that, about how Lead Belly could kick the Kingston Trio’s ass, and how they were not the real thing. I’m going to recognize if something’s not the real thing pretty quick. I look for it. You’re not going to fool me. Kingston Trio, again, I was never into those guys. It was white bread and way too stale. Those guys didn’t have any soul.

“Authentic” can be such a loaded term, when you’re talking about preserving past traditions. What does it mean to you?

Just being honest. I mean authenticity isn’t necessarily … I don’t consider it being historically accurate. You take a mountain man, and he’s lived on the mountain his whole life — his parents did and he’s barely ever left — and he’s an authentic mountain man. That’s one side of it. I come from central New York state, but I’m honest. I love what I do and I love this music and I don’t have to live that life or live that culture just to play the music. No, I’m not a mountain man, and I didn’t grow up in North Carolina, but that’s not necessary to be able to feel it and genuinely be able to … I don’t want to say “interpret,” but yeah interpret it in your own way.

It is, right? Because these songs have been passed down and reimagined, they almost belong more to the interpreters than the originators.

Well, my versions belong to me, so far as I don’t feel I have ownership or possess them, but they’re my versions. I sing “Samson and Delilah” enough, and I sing “Keep It Clean” out on the road, and I put my sound on it. I feel like that’s my song. I don’t consider myself among the ranks of Reverend Gary Davis or anything, but I’m definitely one of the guys.

When I was watching your show last week, it reminded me of a tent revival, which was interesting to see in 2017 in Boston, that you’re able to reproduce that kind of community in a big metropolis.

That seems to be a big part of each night. It’s not like I set out in the beginning to do that. When I set out to do the solo stuff, I just set out to go back to work, really. I used to play in Old Crow and, all of a sudden, I didn’t, and I found myself with my hands up in the air saying, “What the fuck do I do now?” I can’t just sit around, I’ve gotta get out there and keep my name out there, and at least let people know that I’m here. Little did I know that nobody really knew who the fuck I was anyway.

Really?

The hardcore Old Crow fans and the earlier fans [did]. It just happened that my music seemed to really be affecting some people. I think the song choices we put on the first record — which were good choices and they really spoke to people — they reached people the same way that they do me and so, all of a sudden, I find that every night, just about every night, me and the audience have this real connection. That’s a real powerful thing.

It is. I had a ball doing the call and response for “Stewball” during your show. Speaking of that song, it has a similar strumming pattern to “Cuckoo Bird.” Really, so much of the old-time music was more rhythmic than melodic, so how are you trying to distinguish that for modern day audiences?

So many songs are the same song. The list is endless.

Right, and the variations on those songs.

“Cuckoo” and “Stewball” are definitely related. They’re practically the same tune. “Cuckoo” has a modal banjo tuning, so it makes it sound darker and mean sounding. “Stewball” is a major scale. “Cuckoo” has these few little notes that make it in the minor world, as opposed to major. I just do these songs in the way that I can. I’m not the guitar player that Reverend Gary Davis is, so I’ve gotta figure out my own way. It’s really just as simple as that.

Sometimes I’ll think I really want to do this Blind Willie Johnson song, but he’s playing some complicated slide guitar parts and, if I want to do that, I’m going to have to sit and get really good at playing slide guitar and that’s going to take me years. So how do I do it? Well, maybe I can play a Blind Willie Johnson song on the banjo … that’s no different than Bob Dylan taking a song he wrote 30 years ago and completely changing the tempo and putting a band behind it, and changing the song around completely. There’s nothing really new in that. It’s just basically the definition of interpretation.

Photo credit: Meredith Munn