Artist:The Little Roy & Lizzy Show Hometown: Lincolnton, Georgia Song: “Time for Me to Fly” Album:Welcome to the Show Release Date: April 29, 2022 Label: Mountain Home Music Company
In Their Words: “The song ‘Time for Me to Fly’ is one of my favorite cuts on this new album, Welcome to the Show. I love the story behind it and the feeling. It is toe-tapping good. It was fun to arrange an REO Speedwagon song and make it bluegrass — and also leaning on Dolly Parton’s version to make it have that excitement! The whole album is amazingly fun and uplifting. I hope everyone enjoys it as much as I did making it.” — Lizzy Long, The Little Roy & Lizzy Show
Artist:Jim Hurst Hometown: Toledo, Ohio Song: “Weary Old Highway” (feat. Darin & Brooke Aldridge) Album:From the Ground Up Release Date: July 1, 2022 Label: Pinecastle Records
In Their Words: “Road musicians are driven by desire, the pulling of what lies ahead, and searching for opportunities to grow, learn, and perfect — as much as possible — their craft, their art. But not perfection really, because to play the perfect performance, set, song, solo, last note… is extraordinary and uncommon. And maybe that’s the way it should be, because not unlike so many explorers, most if not all artisans/musicians/songwriters are always looking for the unknown ‘next.’ Once found, we want, need really to go for something. Something else, something further than what we have found.
“I am thrilled to have the opportunity to be a road musician, songwriter, troubadour of sorts… and kinda doing it my way. And sometimes I find a song written by another of the same ilk that I am so fond of I request to cover it on a recording project and/or perform it live. Such is the case with Keith Little’s ‘Weary Old Highway,’ a road musician’s journal of sorts. I first heard this song on Keith’s Distant Land to Roam CD, and immediately fell in love with the song. Years later, I asked him if I could get his permission to record my version of it, and he graciously said yes. So I did, on my newest project: From the Ground Up on Pinecastle Records. I had wonderful musician friends to help me: Kristin Scott Benson (banjo), Wayne Benson (mandolin), Shawn Lane (fiddle), Ethan Burkhart (bass), Darin Aldridge (tenor vocal), and Brooke Aldridge (high baritone vocal). Oh, and Keith gave my version his approval… which matters to me. I hope you approve as well!” — Jim Hurst
Crooked Tree is Molly Tuttle’s third full-length album and her first officially fronting a bluegrass band, but the 29-year-old-picker has been pushing the genre forward for the better part of her life. She started playing guitar at 8 years old and playing live onstage by age 11, often performing alongside her father or as part of a family band. In 2017, she released a debut EP, Rise, and became the first woman to be named (or even nominated as) IBMA’s Guitar Player of the Year; she then promptly turned around and took home the award again in 2018. She’s collaborated with Buddy Miller, Béla Fleck, and Bobby Osborne, and participated in a supergroup with fellow trailblazers Alison Brown, Sierra Hull, Missy Raines, and Becky Buller.
So it’s no surprise that Tuttle nabbed an impressive roster of guests for the new project, including producer Jerry Douglas. Ketch Secor, with whom Tuttle has toured and collaborated frequently, co-wrote eight songs on the album and joins Tuttle with his band Old Crow Medicine Show for “Big Backyard.” Gillian Welch offers a clever duet on “Side Saddle,” a song that makes an apt metaphor for busting up Nashville’s old boys club. Billy Strings—once a roommate of Tuttle’s—appears on standout track “Dooley’s Farm,” while Hull, Margo Price, and Dan Tyminski also join the party.
Even as the new collection demonstrates a close-knit music community coming together, its takeaway is just as much about the beauty of setting yourself apart. “I named the record Crooked Tree because I want it to be about embracing your differences,” says Tuttle.
Here, BGS catches up with the Nashville-based musician about the bluegrass voices that inspired her, the long road to embracing her own perceived imperfections, and why it felt right to dedicate this latest work to her paternal grandfather.
BGS: Were there any bluegrass artists that you turned to for inspiration, either for the first time ever or the first time in a while?
Tuttle: I did go back to people like Peter Rowan, John Hartford, Gillian Welch. Those were some of the people who influenced the songwriting on this record. I think those artists have a way of telling stories that you don’t always hear. I wanted this album to feature a lot of different perspectives, ones that maybe you don’t always hear in Bluegrass songs. John Hartford in particular has such a playful way with his lyrics. He obviously was a master of bluegrass, but with his songwriting and with his albums, he took it in new directions that were maybe a little more folky sometimes. He definitely pushed it into new territory.
Hearing what an influence Gillian Welch had on the record, I imagine it must have been wonderful to have her collaborate with you on a song. How did “Side Saddle” come together?
It was so exciting to have her come into the studio. I sent her a couple different songs—I knew that it would just be amazing to have her voice on something, but we wanted to let her choose and she chose that one, and I was so happy. We wrote that song from the perspective of a cowgirl who wants to be taken seriously, and that’s how I felt a lot, as a guitar player, especially. I’ve often been the only female guitar player around, and Gillian Welch is one of my biggest heroes. She’s been such an amazing role model for me, as an incredible musician and also just such a strong woman who writes amazing songs.
Hearing the lyrics to that song, I wondered: Is there any moment or memory where you felt like you were metaphorically asked to “ride side saddle” when you didn’t want to? How did that impact your path as a musician?
When I was a kid, I had so many amazing female role models in the Bay Area, like Laurie Lewis and Kathy Kallick, who both lead their own bands. It really felt like there were so many women who played music that I could be friends with and who could be mentors to me as a kid. But when I went to music school, I realized I was the only female in a lot of my guitar classes—it did feel like I was often the only woman in a room. Sometimes I had teachers making weird comments—one time a teacher told me that I “played really feminine”—so I just feel like people were often singling me out for that reason. I found that in jam sessions too: I remember one jam, in particular, when I knew most of the people in the circle. But there was one person I didn’t know, and he specifically skipped my solo every time I came around. The only woman in the jam circle, and I’m like, “Really? You’re going to go out of your way to skip my solo?” So yeah, I think there are times like that where I just feel like, “Come on!”
There’s a line in “Grass Valley” that I really love about a shy kid with a mandolin, and it feels like an overt comparison to your own story as a young child excelling at music. Are there any things that you wish you had known when you were first starting to play?
I definitely knew as a kid that I had to work really hard, and I think I did work really hard at music. But I didn’t always know to believe in myself—to just feel confident. I felt like I always had to critique myself and always push to be perfecting my playing and singing. But really when I gave that up is when I made the most progress; when I felt more confident in myself.
What do you feel was your biggest challenge in getting this record together?
Well, I probably spent the most time on the songwriting, but that part felt pretty natural to me. I think the challenge came when we were cutting the album. We were doing it in a really short amount of time and wanted to keep everything really spontaneous and live. But it’s like we were saying before—you have to let go of perfectionism. It was hard for me to sing my vocals live and not want to critique every little note that I sang, go back in and overdo them a billion times. Jerry was really cool about that. He didn’t want us to have too much time where to go in and try to change everything afterwards. That was a new experience for me.
You co-wrote all of the songs on this album, several of them with Ketch Secor of Old Crow Medicine Show. One that stands out in particular is “San Francisco Blues,” which has plenty of modern-day references but feels somewhat timeless. How did that one come together?
We both love the old-school bluegrass sound and old-time music, and we both care a lot about songwriting and stories—and updating old stories. On “San Francisco Blues,” Ketch kind of helped me figure out how to incorporate some of those old song forms. That was probably like that song took the longest to totally finish… When I brought in the old format of a blues song or a song about having to leave home, that’s when it really clicked. I kept some of the current stuff, but also incorporated more old-school language into it. It really helped the song live in both worlds.
There’s a lot of rural imagery on this album. Was there any place or trip that specifically inspired those scenes?
Right when I was in the middle of writing the album, I drove up from Nashville to visit my grandma in Illinois. My dad grew up on a farm in a town called Yorkville. My grandma still lives on some farmland that my family owns, and while they don’t own the house where my dad grew up anymore, it’s still just down the road from her house so we drove out there one day. We probably technically weren’t supposed to be walking around but we walked around the old farm: All the buildings are all boarded up and it’s a little overgrown and the house is kind of run down now. It was a little sad to see, but it got me thinking about where bluegrass started for me. My grandfather was a farmer, but he also played the banjo, and he taught my dad how to play and my dad taught me how to play. That rural landscape really has influenced me, even though I didn’t grow up there.
You even dedicated the record to your grandfather, Gerald Tuttle. Are there any qualities that you feel that you inherited from him?
He was just such a hard worker. That definitely influenced my dad, and I think my dad tried to instill that in me and my brother. And then, of course, just seeing the farm and the music that he loved. And I think it’s cool that he worked so hard at his farming, but he also had this other side to him. He’d always show me videos of Elizabeth Cotten playing guitar and he loved Hank Williams. He just had such a strong passion for music—I don’t know if I would playing music if it weren’t for him. I thought that he would be happy that I finally made a bluegrass album.
The BGS team is currently working on getting our land legs back after a week at sea with the Sixthman team, as we made our music-filled journey from Miami to St. Thomas and St. Kitts aboard the 14th edition of Cayamo – and what a week it was!
After two long years away from much of our roots music community (in person, at least) Cayamo felt like a reunion – and we were so happy to celebrate BGS’ 10th birthday with a huge jam set with so many of our friends. Sierra Hull and Madison Cunningham hosted The Bluegrass Situation’s Party of the Deck-ade, a set that took place on the pool deck as we pulled away from St. Kitts, featuring songs of joy and celebration via collaborations amongst the likes of Aoife O’Donovan, the Punch Brothers, Kathleen Edwards, Brittney Spencer, Robbie Fulks, Jim Lauderdale, Tommy Emmanuel, Missy Raines, Rainbow Girls, Dear Darling, Laney Lou and the Bird Dogs, and Hogslop String Band as our trusty house band.
On top of all this music, we were also grateful for the chance to simply sit and talk – and Fiona Prine took advantage of this time with her Let’s Sit and Talk series, having in-depth conversations with Emmylou Harris, as well as members of John Prine’s band. (Be on the lookout – these conversations are coming to BGS in podcast form soon!)
Cayamo was a week of non-stop music, unforgettable collaborations, and moments of joy, from a nautical set by the Punch Brothers, to mid-set stage dives – into a literal pool – from Hogslop String Band, to many opportunities to honor the memory and music of John Prine and those we’ve lost in the past few years – just to name a few. Below, take a look at some of our favorite moments from the Party of the Deck-ade and the entire Cayamo trip, as captured by Will Byington and Cortney Pizzarelli:
Cover Image: Cortney Pizzarelli All photos by Will Byington and Cortney Pizzarelli
With a strong blue-collar approach to their craft, the Po’ Ramblin’ Boys have been running full throttle ever since forming in 2014 as the house band at Ole Smoky Moonshine Distillery in Gatlinburg, Tennessee. Bandleader and mandolin player C.J. Lewandoski says the group embraced the opportunity of “paid practice,” much like J.D. Crowe & The New South did at Lexington, Kentucky’s Red Slipper Lounge in the 1970s. The distillery shows offered traditional bluegrass covers, deep cuts from artists they’re influenced by, and requests mixed in with originals — a heavy mix that always kept their listeners (and often themselves) on their toes.
That same musical direction has been revived on the band’s second album, Never Slow Down, released by Smithsonian Folkways. The new collection sees the now-quintet tackle songs from their musical mentors like the Stanley Brothers, Hazel Dickens and Alice Gerrard, George Jones, and Jim Lauderdale, along with originals penned by guitarist Josh Rinkel.
In the case of “Ramblin’ Woman,” the cover not only honors Dickens and Gerrard but also acts as the official introduction of fiddler Laura Orshaw to the group, who handles lead vocals on the song. Calling in from their homes in East Tennessee and Boston, Lewandowski and Orshaw spoke with The Bluegrass Situation about how they complement each other musically, how they’re educating and keeping the bluegrass tradition alive, and how Lewandowski came to own Jimmy Martin’s pickup truck.
BGS: C.J., what do you feel like Laura has brought to the Po’ Ramblin’ Boys. And Laura, what do you think the Po’ Ramblin’ Boys have done to push you musically?
Lewandowski: We started as a core of four guys and weren’t even looking to add a fifth piece. At the same time we knew that if we ever did expand it would be with a fiddle. We didn’t want someone coming in that didn’t gel with our musical family. Over time we began bringing different fiddlers with us whenever we had extra money or if the promoters wanted one, but it never fully clicked with the band until Laura came along. She’s helped elevate our sound to a completely different level, one we didn’t even know we needed. She brings so much light to the stage and is very helpful with managerial stuff and structuring harmonies. Even without her fiddle she brings so much to the group with her harmonies. Laura, Jereme [Brown] and I could sing a song; she could lead a song on her own; or I could sing low while Jereme sings middle and she covers a high baritone. Her presence has added so many twists and turns to our music that has helped breathe new life into the songs.
Orshaw: The first time I saw the Po’ Ramblin’ Boys I was intrigued by their energy and all of the interaction between band members on stage. And like CJ said, with four out of five members having the ability to sing lead vocals, the possibilities are endless with what you can do. Everyone has their own unique style and influences that only give more personality to the songs. At the same time, whenever we join forces on harmonies, our voices all blend together seamlessly. Growing up in Pennsylvania it was always difficult finding younger people to play bluegrass music with who were doing their own thing and not just redoing what Flatt & Scruggs or The Stanley Brothers did. That’s what I love about the Po’ Ramblin’ Boys. They very much honor the tradition of bluegrass while at the same time carving their own path in the genre.
Going off that, what are your thoughts on using your music to carry on the bluegrass legacy, helping to keep the tradition alive?
Lewandowski: We’ve always carried that tradition of bluegrass with us. We love how we were raised, the people who have invested in us and the history of the music and will always carry them with us. At the same time, it’s important to us to leave our own mark on the music as well. For instance, with some of the songs Josh wrote it wouldn’t be far-fetched to question if they were written 50 years ago or yesterday. Other songs like “Ramblin’ Woman” act as both an introduction of Laura as a band member and us paying homage to Miss Hazel Dickens.
On “Woke Up With Tears In My Eyes” I’m paying tribute to Damon Black, a farmer turned songwriter from near my hometown in Missouri. In a similar fashion, “The Blues Are Close at Hand” honors Jereme’s dad, Tommy Brown & The County Line Grass. Not everyone is as in-depth on this music as we are, though, which makes it fun when they get one of our CDs and turn it on to play. The song is all new to them, and our hope is that listeners will fall in love with these songs and dive down the rabbit holes of the discographies of the artists who originally wrote them.
It sounds like your mission of preserving the bluegrass tradition led to a perfect marriage between the band and Smithsonian Folkways. How did that partnership come about?
Lewandowski: Smithsonian Folkways has been doing just that, preserving the tradition of bluegrass and American roots music, since 1946. Back then they were traveling the backroads of America, knocking on people’s doors and capturing the music of the country. Much like it was back then, it was them that approached us about partnering. I met John Smith, associate director of Smithsonian Folkways, at Leadership Bluegrass during the IBMA conference in 2017. We didn’t talk much then, but a few months later we were playing Pickathon in Oregon and he approached us there. I remember him asking how things were going with Rounder Records, our label at the time, before saying that Smithsonian would be interested in working with us at some point.
I held on to that invitation for a while. Not long after we decided to take the leap with them. It’s a natural fit for us because John was a fan of the band before we were ever working together. He believed in our music, what we wanted to do and how we were doing it. We shared the mission of historical preservation while also continuing to make our own music in a living, breathing kind of way. As musicians, our hope is that whenever labels come to an end, their assets are donated for preservation purposes to Smithsonian Folkways to keep the history alive, and our partnering with them puts us at the head of it.
Orshaw: When the first generation of bluegrass musicians like Bill Monroe and The Stanley Brothers were making their music for the first time, they weren’t creating it with the mindset of having it sound 50 years old. They were just making something that was exciting and relevant to them and based on their experiences and influences this sound turned into what we call traditional bluegrass. Our influences are just that. We’re not trying to sound like our music is half a century old, but we are trying to think about their spirit of creativity. In their time they were creating something that had never been done before. We’re just trying to keep that same pioneering spirit alive, which has been a challenge, but a fun one to navigate.
I know that another way you’re helping to preserve the bluegrass tradition is by showing off Jimmy Martin’s old pick-up truck during your journeys. How’d you go about getting that piece of history?
Lewandowski: It’s a living piece of history. I still drive it around all the time. People are always intrigued by it, and many of them don’t know who Jimmy Martin was. I’m always happy to tell people about him and stories about the truck. Even people who are familiar with Jimmy love it. In many ways it helps to open the floodgates for people to get into his music for the first time, or the hundredth time.
I got the truck from a friend of mine who was close with Jimmy. He had a Ford pick-up that Jimmy liked so the two traded trucks. He went and got the whole thing restored except for the interior that still has a busted window crank that Jimmy fixed with a bolt and rubber hose and a broken door handle that he replaced with a hook. One day I was at my friend’s house and saw the front of the truck under a tarp while he was trying to sell me something different. When he pulled the tarp up, I immediately knew what it was. I couldn’t believe it. After a couple years of negotiating, I finally got my hands on it. In addition to talking about it with everyday folks, I also got a call recently from Eastern Tennessee State University to come to campus and show the truck off to their bluegrass program. It’s as much an educational tool as it is a way to honor Jimmy’s legacy.
My series of memoirs on the Dayton Bluegrass Reunion closes with a gallery of snapshots taken during the day’s proceedings. I had a new Japanese automatic camera of the type then described as “point and shoot,” an Olympus Quick Shooter Zoom.
I returned home with a 25-shot 35mm film roll and immediately sent it to a budget speed processing outfit in Seattle. The prints returned (along with a new roll of film and a mailer) a few weeks later.
Unlike today, when you can monitor photos on your digital camera after every snap, in 1989 you had to wait for the prints to arrive to see what came out and what didn’t. Here’s what came out.
I started outside the concert site, Memorial Hall, in the afternoon before the concert — sound checks were going on inside — taking care to get a close shot of the Hall’s sign on one of Dayton’s busiest streets.
Inside the hall that day, the stage was being set. Working as a stagehand, I helped handle communications between director Don Baker and the evening’s performers. Moon Mullins and The Traditional Grass and the Osborne Brothers were parked outside in their own vehicles. I first visited Moon and the band in an RV with the name, “The Cabin,” on the door. He introduced me to the band members, including his son Joe. Then I visited the Osbornes.
I hadn’t seen the Osborne Brothers since a Saturday night three years before when I was in Nashville to promote my new book, Bluegrass: A History. They’d invited me to be their guest backstage at the Grand Ole Opry, where Sonny brought me onstage, introduced me and spoke about the book — a very generous act. During the concert I asked a fellow backstage bystander to take our photo. Born in 1937, Sonny passed away last fall; he is sadly missed.
At about the same time I noticed Fred Bartenstein and Tom Teepen nearby and asked them to pose for me. They were important figures in the discovery and revival of Dayton’s bluegrass scene. Recently, I sent this photo to Fred (original editor of Muleskinner News) and asked him for a caption:
National editorial correspondent Tom Teepen (1935-2017, left) wrote an evocative memoir in the concert program about his days as a Dayton bluegrass fan. Here he meets backstage with Fred Bartenstein, who helped plan and organize the event.
The rest of my photos were taken at the Canal Street Tavern after the concert.
The executive producer of the event, Phyllis Brzozowska ran CityFolk from the start until its end about ten years ago. Behind her on the left is Greg Allen of the Allen Brothers. The individual on the right was one of the crew that director Don Baker enlisted from his Lime Kiln Theater troupe to help backstage.
Doug Smith and his wife, Dayton Bluegrass Reunion researcher and writer Barb Kuhns (both members of The Corndrinkers, an old-time band still active today) posed with Don Baker, concert director and emcee.
Harley Allen, a veteran star of several bands, had performed in the concert with his brothers. At the center of Canal Street’s evening’s activities, he’s seen here surrounded by friends.
The peripatetic mandolin virtuoso, Frank Wakefield, then living in Saratoga Springs, New York, and working with a Cleveland-based bluegrass/swing outfit, was bouncing around the room. I’d first seen him in action onstage in 1962 (Bluegrass Generation, 124-25); he was still up to his onstage hijinks.
Meeting Noah Crase was a special treat. I’d first heard his music in the late ’50s on an obscure 45 record by Dave Woolum. The evening’s program included a picture of him playing with Bill Monroe along with two men I’d played with in Indiana myself, Roger Smith and Vernon McQueen. We swapped Blue Grass Boys stories.
Another special treat. I first ran across Porter Church’s recordings on Red Allen’s County LPs from the mid-’60s. He was well-known in the D.C./Baltimore area, but I didn’t get a chance to see him in action until the Reunion.
The Sacred Sounds of Grass (Norbert Dengler, guitar; Sam Hain, mandolin; Thilo Hain, banjo; Alfred Bonk, bass)
I didn’t take notes about my snapshots — all that remained in my memory of this group was that these young men were from Germany, played bluegrass gospel, and were on their first American tour. I sent a copy to Mark Stoffel, mandolin player with Chris Jones and the Night Drivers, who’s from Germany. He told me he “knew them well,” and sent the band’s name and contact information.
I wrote to banjoist Thilo Hain and asked him to describe the circumstances that brought the band to Dayton that evening, and their experiences at the concert and the reception. He explained:
In 1988 his brother Sam Hain saw an ad in New York instrument dealer Harry West‘s sales list for a 1922 Gibson Lloyd Loar once owned by Pee Wee Lambert and now owned by Frank Wakefield. Sam, interested, “rang Frank Wakefield up to ask him more details about this instrument.” Wakefield told Sam, “Better get that mandolin, before anybody else gets it.”
Sam then asked Frank if he was planning a reunion with Red Allen and his band. Wakefield told him about the Dayton Bluegrass Reunion scheduled for April 1989. Thilo remembered, “Frank finished with the words, ‘You better be there!'”
Sam missed out on getting the mandolin, but the band was there in Dayton for the concert. Red Allen arranged for their free admittance and took them backstage to “a meet and greet with all the musicians,” and suggested they perform at Canal Street. “Dee Sparks,” said Thilo, “was so kind to let Alfred play his bass for the show. Throughout our first U.S. tour we earned so many friendly comments, felt heartwarming hospitality from all the great musicians we visited at their homes and went back to Germany with a huge bag full of new impressions and experiences.”
A Google translation of the band’s history on their Facebook page reads: “Sacred Sounds Of Grass is the oldest active Bluegrass Band in Germany, founded in 1979. With their classic Bluegrass Sound the group is also considered the most authentic bluegrass band outside of the USA.”
Thirty-two years after their Canal Street Tavern performance, the same band lineup appears in a photo, also posted at their Facebook page, of them performing in a church in Adelberg, Germany this past August. Here’s a recording from a 2019 festival.
Wild & Blue (below) was mandolinist and fiddler David Harvey’s new band, formed November 1988. On this night, when they came onto the Canal Street stage, David had already played with the Allen Brothers. Born 1958 in Dayton and son of famous mandolin player Dorsey Harvey (1935-1988; see Industrial Strength Bluegrasspp. 150, 183), he’d grown up in Parkside, a postwar housing development, together with Red Allen‘s four sons as neighbors. Their fathers both played in bluegrass bands — they all learned at home, jamming together after school as teens. By summer 1972 David was playing festivals with Red Allen.
In 1974, at 17, Harvey dropped out of high school to help support the family as a professional musician, joining the Falls City Ramblers. Parkside was a decaying, crime-ridden, rustbelt housing project; David saw music as a way to a better life.
A Louisville-based band that played a lot in Southwest Ohio, the Ramblers were local favorites with the same crowds who listened to the Hotmud Family’s eclectic blend of bluegrass, old-time, blues and early county. The chapter “Beck Gentry” in Murphy Hicks Henry’s Pretty Good for a Girl:Women In Bluegrass (pp. 186-191) gives a good history of the band. David was with them, playing fiddle and mandolin, for five years. In 1977 Kentucky Educational Television aired one of their shows:
In 1979 Harvey moved to Colorado Springs, where his musical career continued in a group called The Reasonable Band. He entered and won several mandolin contests, establishing an enduring reputation for his skill and creativity. He also began working as a luthier.
He moved to Indianapolis in 1983 and for the next four and a half years he played on the road and recorded with Larry Sparks. His career as a luthier grew. In 1986 he met Jan Snider, who, with her younger sister Jill, had been playing bluegrass. Jan and David soon wed.
Wild & Blue brought lead singer Jan’s voice to the forefront, solo and in duets with Jill’s high harmonies. They began around the same time as a number of other bluegrass bands with female lead singers were coming on the scene like Alison Krauss, Lynn Morris, and Laurie Lewis. The band had a lot of energy, with David’s suave mandolin work and its female-dominated trios. They won the band contest at SPBGMA 1992 and moved to Nashville in 1995. By then they’d recorded albums for Vetco and Pinecastle. Wild & Blue lasted until 1999.
Harvey then worked with Larry Cordle (1999-2001), Claire Lynch (2002-07), and Harley Allen (2008-11). Meanwhile his luthier work in Nashville blossomed. He joined Gibson in 2004 and today as Master Luthier heads Gibson’s Original Acoustic Instruments division. Here’s a video (above) in which Dave introduces one of the mandolins he’s building and illustrates it with a tune he co-wrote with his dad, “Cruising Timber.”
As a small boy Harvey had watched and listened to his father and Frank Wakefield as they wrung out mandolin ideas at his home. He clearly enjoyed himself with Frank this evening.
I had watched the evening’s afterparty at Canal Street with old friends from Lexington, Kentucky: the late Marty Godbey, author of Crowe On The Banjo: The Musical Life of J.D. Crowe. Next to her, husband, writer, photographer and musician Frank Godbey, creator of two influential bluegrass digital lists, BGRASS-L and IBMA-L. Next to Frank is Tom Adler, folklorist, banjoist and author of Bean Blossom: The Brown County Jamboree and Bill Monroe’s Bluegrass Festivals. And that’s my hat on the table.
Neil V. Rosenberg would like to thank: Fred Bartenstein, Phyllis Brzozowska, Nancy Cardwell, Frank Godbey, Thilo Hain, David Hedrick, and Mark Stoffel.
Now in their 17th year, the Infamous Stringdusters have established themselves as one of the most prominent and prolific bands in modern bluegrass. Asked if he ever thought the Stringdusters would be together that long, bassist Travis Book candidly replies, “Yes. That was the plan when we started the band, not to be side guys working for someone else or to go it alone. If we needed to, any of us could be a bandleader at this point. When we started, our plan was to do this for as long as we could. Looking at each other, we all wanted this group to keep making music together for 30 or 40 years. I hope that’s not conceited or hubris to say.”
Fiddle player Jeremy Garrett adds, “I’ve been in side bands and seen the writing on the wall as to how far you can go that way, as opposed to taking the risk of taking the leap yourself. Many struggle and have difficulty with that. Every time I think about it, I’m glad we took the risk. It’s a big step to believe in yourself enough to do that, and I feel lucky that we realized that early on. We’ve all spent a long time in the trenches, building it up. Looking back, we have an awesome band and business, and we still love each other. We’re having the time of our lives out here.”
The band’s musical passion and mutual respect are evident on their new album, Toward the Fray, and indeed throughout their catalog. In April, they’ll head to Las Vegas where A Tribute to Bill Monroe is nominated for a Grammy Award in the Best Bluegrass Album category. (They won their first Grammy for their 2017 project, Laws of Gravity.) BGS caught up with the Stringdusters — our Artist of the Month for March — for a series of three conversations on the road. Here is part two with Book and Garrett, who each wrote multiple songs for Toward the Fray.
BGS: So you’re up for another Grammy, and of course you’re going, right?
Travis Book: We are. When they rescheduled it to April in Las Vegas, that just so happened to be the weekend we’ll be at Wondergrass. We have Sunday off and it’s within driving distance, so we’ll bus down there. We went the first two times, too. Even though it’s a massive undertaking and not cheap, you’ve got to go. We make it a priority. It can be hard for people who aren’t intimately involved with the music industry to understand what we’re doing. You know, aunts or uncles thinking “our nephew and his little bluegrass band.” Winning a Grammy definitely helped them have a better perspective on us having some success. It especially made my dad happy. He’s a hardcore music fan, subscribes to the magazines. He’s the one who turned me onto Pearl Jam and Radiohead. He was happier about it than anybody.
Were you into alternative rock first, before bluegrass?
Book: That and classic rock — Led Zeppelin, Jethro Tull, Pink Floyd. That was the music that really got me, although I remember wearing out Red Hot Chili Peppers’ Blood Sugar Sex Magik in middle school. Getting from there to bluegrass wasn’t that complicated. I was into Grateful Dead and Phish when I ran into some guys in a garage jam band that needed a bass player. When that ended, the guitar player asked if I’d ever played bluegrass. He was from Georgia, turned me on to Yonder Mountain String Band, Old and In the Way. We started jamming on bluegrass and the harmony singing is what really got me into it.
I grew up singing hymns with my parents, and those three-part harmonies really resonated as fundamental. Singing is my jam, it’s why I got into music in the first place, and singing harmonies is what drew me in. It was not long until bluegrass was all I wanted to do, go to bluegrass and folk festivals. I’d go to the college library and print off pages and pages of traditional bluegrass lyrics. Bluegrass Album Band, I learned all that stuff. I thought it was so cool that you could go anywhere with acoustic instruments, no electricity required, and have this massive shared lexicon you could play with people.
On the new album, your song “Pearl of Carolina” is particularly good.
Book: I co-wrote that with Jon Weisberger, my neighbor in Brevard, North Carolina. The hook to that song came from me writing a script for my show, Travis Book Happy Hour, which livestreams from the Grey Eagle in Asheville. I’d say it’s Late Night meets eTown. I was trying to write an introduction: “Live from Asheville, it’s BLANK of Carolina.” I was wondering what should go there, “pearl” came to mind and then I thought, “That should be a song.” The melody and chord change came to me while I was riding my bike, and I sang that into my phone. It felt a little “country” to me and I did not have the guts to finish it. That descending chord change seemed a little down the middle. The main thing Jon helped with was making sure I didn’t dilute it and miss the opportunity to write it right. He really kept me on track. It’s a song that feels like it wrote itself.
Jeremy, you have side-hustle projects, too — a new solo record, right?
Jeremy Garrett: Yep, River Wild. Music abounds. It’s a really good time right now, music flowing out of everyone. I’m stoked to be coming out of the pandemic with great new songs and tunes to play. There’s the Stringdusters album, and my record is out March 25. We can’t stop creating, writing about things in our world. As a musician and aspiring poet, I want to put things into words and share them.
Since you’re writing material for both the group and your own thing, how do you know where a song should go?
Garrett: There’s definitely a Stringdusters flavor, to where I can usually tell if something will be a Stringdusters song right away. Not always, I do get surprised sometimes. When we do the show-and-tell song-sharing, I’ll keep one wildcard song I throw out to see what everyone thinks and sometimes that’s the one that catches their ears. A lot of times I know the spice level needed to bring to the Stringdusters pot — a certain energy that will go over good live. That’s our MO, bringing the live show in the hottest way we can.
Travis, you mentioned that “Pearl of Carolina” initially felt too country. Another of your songs here, “I’m Not Alone,” seems like it could also pass for country.
Book: I try to stay out of my own way with that stuff. I remember Paul McCartney saying about early Beatles songs, “We didn’t write them to be memorable, we wrote them that way because we had to remember ’em ourselves.” There’s something to be said for songs that stick with you and are memorable. I can come up with crazy ideas, but the stuff that keeps running around in my head days later, that’s when I know I’m onto something. The older I get, the less afraid I am about writing stuff that’s straightforward. You want to make music that’s quality and creative, complex, interesting. But it’s better if it resonates and sticks, becomes a part of lives and minds.
All three songs I wrote for this album are in that vein. “Pearl of Carolina” is a little more complicated, but “I’m Not Alone” is just that one-line chorus. The first three lines are the same melody, the third line I reharmonize; change the chord structure, then the last line the lead drops down to something very similar to the baritone part from the first two lines. It’s such a simple idea, but it still knocks me on my ass when I listen. It makes the chorus pop right out. The old me might have thought it was too sappy or not complicated enough. I feel fortunate to have grown up enough to get past that. It seems so simple, but essential, like a mantra.
Beyond who plays what instrument, how would you summarize each person’s role in the Stringdusters?
Garrett: I think we are that rare democracy among bands. Everyone has their individual talents, things they’re better suited for. But I think we’re all into the big picture. That’s something we often discuss all together, vibing on the same wavelength about the band’s trajectory, how to create records and unify messages with five different guys. There are issues where we disagree, but we almost never have to vote on it. We just talk it out and eventually come around to being of the same mind about it almost all the time. We’re lucky that way. Panda (banjo player Chris Pandolfi) is very technically minded, handles a lot of the business, and Travis is a great booking agent, keeps an eye on the schedule because he knows how to make that flow. We hope to all bring something to the table. It’s always been that way.
Book: Everyone can kind of choose their level of engagement. We’re all allowed to integrate and contribute however we want. Business, music, interpersonal stuff all continues to move along and different people are engaged with different parts at different levels. But every year, we grow more alike. Every tour, we’re more on the same page. Ten years ago, there were a lot more differences of opinion than there are now. To me, the decision-making on goal-setting, recording, the way to approach shows and everybody’s role musically is all so much easier now than a decade ago.
Garrett: Even a decade ago, it was already better than most bands. We’ve always been lucky for sure.
Book: A major priority is keeping everyone involved and equal and on the same page to make sure everyone gets what they need out of this. Everyone has an equal say and there’s no bandleader. That can make it challenging to be a fan. So much is going on and everybody gets a chance to lead. If you just want to be fed the same singer doing the same type of songs all night, we’re maybe not the band for you. It’s highly dynamic. Any given song or even moment, a different guy can be the leader. That’s part of what keeps us interesting as a band — everybody getting a chance to take the reins, get support and then on to the next thing. We’re Jeremy’s backing band during his solo, then mine when I’m singing the hook. Moment to moment, everyone is fully supported.
March is #WomensHistoryMonth (although, let’s be honest, shouldn’t we be celebrating 51% of the population’s history every month?!) so it seems like a fitting time to revisit our comprehensive — but by no means exhaustive — list of the 50 Greatest Bluegrass Albums Made By Women.
Published five years ago as an unofficial extension of NPR’s Turning the Tables project, our list included a wide array of female talent from over a century of bluegrass, old time, string band, and other traditional styles of recorded music, from Ola Belle Reed to Laurie Lewis & Kathie Kallick to Molly Tuttle and everything in between.
“We dare not be so bold as to claim that every important bluegrass album created by women is included. We are simply striving to illustrate the far-reaching, undeniable influence that these incredible artists have had on the music, as a whole. Each contributor, many of them groundbreaking, trail-blazing artists themselves, has chosen albums that are personally impactful. Glaring omissions and oversights are almost guaranteed, but therein lies the beauty of this conversation: This collection is merely a starting point, a springboard for a greater dialogue about the place of female creators, artists, musicians, and professionals in the telling of the history — herstory — of bluegrass.”
There’s no question that there are plenty of amazing albums that should be added to the canon since 2017, but each new addition wouldn’t have been given an inch of foothold in the genre without the strength, determination, heart, and amazing music of the women who came before them.
Artist:Edgar Loudermilk Band Hometown: Eastanollee, Georgia Song: “The Deal That Won’t Go Down” Album:The Dark Side of Lonesome Release Date: March 18, 2022 Label: Rural Rhythms Records/Green Hill Music
In Their Words: “This is a song that I wrote with Zack Autry one night while traveling through the beautiful state of Colorado. We were driving out of Denver on I-70 during a snow storm and saw these big canyon walls. This immediately put us in the mindset to write a western-style cowboy song. It’s about a roving gambler who falls in love with a girl at one of his regular stops. He finds betrayal and catches himself in a bit of trouble.” — Edgar Loudermilk
Artist:The Bad Oats Hometown: Boston, Massachusetts Song: “This Old Plane” Album:The Other Side of Love Release Date: March 15, 2022 Label: Pine House Records
In Their Words: “I started writing ‘This Old Plane’ one morning while camping in New Hampshire. I had been reflecting on a past relationship and the song became my way of acknowledging that I had finally moved on. We recorded it, along with the rest of our album, in January of 2021 while quarantined together in a cabin in the Berkshires in Western Massachusetts. We recorded the entire record live in the living room with minimal overdubs. In a time of remote recordings and isolation in everyday life we all felt extremely lucky to be able to share a space and create together. We hope the energy and excitement that we experienced from being together comes across in the album.” — Sam Powers, The Bad Oats
Photo Credit: Mike Saunders
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