Tag: bluegrass

Bluegrass Memoirs: ‘Industrial Strength Bluegrass’ and the Dayton Bluegrass Reunion (Part 4)

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

(Editor’s Note: Read part one of our series on the Dayton Bluegrass Reunion here. Read part two here. Read part three here.)

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 Bluegrass pp. 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.

(Editor’s Note: Read part one of our series on the Dayton Bluegrass Reunion here. Read part two here. Read part three here.)

Neil V. Rosenberg would like to thank: Fred Bartenstein, Phyllis Brzozowska, Nancy Cardwell, Frank Godbey, Thilo Hain, David Hedrick, and Mark Stoffel.

Rosenberg is an author, scholar, historian, banjo player, Bluegrass Music Hall of Fame inductee, and co-chair of the IBMA Foundation’s Arnold Shultz Fund.

Photo of Neil V. Rosenberg by Terri Thomson Rosenberg, all other photos by Neil V. Rosenberg. 

Edited by Justin Hiltner

The Infamous Stringdusters’ Travis Book and Jeremy Garrett Take the Long View

Posted on by Editor

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.

Editor’s Note: Read our BGS Artist of the Month interview with Andy Hall and Andy Falco.

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.

Want to win tickets to see the Infamous Stringdusters at the Echoplex in Los Angeles? Enter our ticket giveaway.

Photo Credit: Jay Strausser Visuals

BGS Top 50 Moments: The 50 Greatest Bluegrass Albums Made by Women

Posted on by Editor

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.

Revisit our list of the 50 Greatest Bluegrass Albums Made By Women here.

LISTEN: Edgar Loudermilk, “The Deal That Won’t Go Down”

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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

Photo Credit: Paris Mountain Photography

LISTEN: The Bad Oats, “This Old Plane”

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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

BGS Q&A: The Infamous Stringdusters’ Andy Falco and Andy Hall Go ‘Toward the Fray’

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It makes some sense that you can’t really pin The Infamous Stringdusters down to a single place – you’ll find members in Colorado, North Carolina and Long Island, New York – because they are always on the move. Together since 2006, they have charted a sprawling course onstage and also through a dozen albums.

This year finds them on the road once again, showing off their 12th and newest album Toward the Fray, which has the most overtly socio-political songs they’ve ever put out into the world. In the midst of their touring schedule, they’ll also attend the Grammy Awards to see if last year’s A Tribute to Bill Monroe wins best bluegrass album. It would be their second time winning that category after hitting paydirt with 2017’s Laws of Gravity.

We caught up with the Stringdusters for a series of three conversations on the road (Zooming in from Louisville, Kentucky, Birmingham, Alabama, and Atlanta). Here is part one with guitarist Andy Falco and Dobroist Andy Hall.

BGS: Since you were quarantined for much of 2020 and 2021, everyone was doing their songwriting separately rather than together. Is that typical for the Stringdusters’ process?

Andy Falco: Typically we do write separately, and pre-production is when we come together. We’ll do a show-and-tell with songs, just playing guitars, and we might end up with 25 songs from that and start narrowing it down. It had to happen quicker this time once we got together, but there was something great about that, actually. Sometimes that initial spark of instinct will carry you through if you have to rely on it. We have instincts as a band, after putting in the 10,000 hours, and we did not have time to do any deep dives on changing things around. So we went more with instinct. There’s something special with this record.

Andy Hall: It is a little scary to show off your songs to everybody that first time, but it’s exciting, too. You’re presenting your song for judgment, no way around it. It’s up for review and interpretation, the five of us sitting around playing acoustic guitars, and it’s not like there’s clapping at the end of it.

Falco: Sometimes you’re laughed out of the room.

Hall: Sometimes! What you hope is for everyone to say, “That was cool.” Or a quiet, “Yeah, nice.” It can be hard for me to know when I’m writing a song if it will work with the band. It sometimes surprises me what the band will like as a whole, which makes it exciting and interesting. I continue to be surprised in a good way, and I trust the band. Whatever the band picks tends to work well even if it’s not totally understood at first.

Falco: Sometimes what happens is it takes a couple of records for everyone to get on-board with a song. The band evolves and sometimes songs that don’t jibe at first, we’ll come back to them and they work. You never know.

Hall: It can be hard to say why it’s like that sometimes. One record, a song might not make the cut and the next, everyone is super-stoked about it. It’s all about the band’s evolution, and current mood. That’s what’s cool about the get-together pre-production part of the process. That’s where you have to have trust, and it gets easier as we get older. My trust in the band’s taste grows as time goes on.

As befits the Stringdusters’ most political record to date, it’s got quite a dystopian cover illustration.

Hall: It was shocking initially, but that’s kind of the idea — for it to be shocking and striking. Uncomfortable, that sort of vibe. I like doing things that might not fit in bluegrass, which is part of the reason why I’m covered in tattoos. I like things that are kind of metal, so doing something that’s not common in bluegrass really excites me. That part of it spoke to me. Bluegrass covers are generally middle-of-the-road. I like that we maybe ruffled some feathers.

Falco: When that cover was first floated, I was honestly not sure about it. Then after I sat with it for a while, it made sense. It was Andy Hall’s vision to put that together. We’re talking about things that are uncomfortable, and that suits the overall message of the record, to approach uncomfortable subjects. That’s what the song “Toward the Fray” is all about for me. It was inspired by the George Floyd situation and I wanted to say it’s not enough to denounce that, you actually have to engage with it. That’s where the cover does what it’s supposed to do, and I love that it’s gotten more comments than any other cover we’ve ever done.

Given the Stringdusters’ stature in progressive bluegrass, going straight-ahead old-school with last year’s Bill Monroe tribute seemed unexpected.

Falco: We talked about that a lot in the past, that we should do a traditional bluegrass record at some point. But every time we went into the studio, we had stacks of our own songs to do. Then when we were grounded at home during the pandemic, trying to figure out things to do, we were able to record remotely. The first thing we did was the Christmas record and then it was, “Let’s do that bluegrass record, a Bill Monroe tribute.” It was all done remotely. Neither one was reinventing the wheel, it was playing music we’ve played a lot over the years. Everybody knows their role and we were able to do that, as opposed to original Stringdusters music, where we have to be together for the improvisational elements.

Hall: To me, this was long overdue. The first bluegrass I ever owned was a Bill Monroe box set, so it’s the first bluegrass I remember hearing. I played with Earl Scruggs, Jeremy Garrett played with Bobby Osborne. We all cut our teeth with traditional bluegrass. It’s what informed us musically.

Congratulations on another Grammy nomination. Will you go to the ceremonies in Las Vegas?

Falco: Oh, yeah!

What was it like to win one?

Falco: I remember sitting in a row with the guys and you could feel everybody’s seat shaking. Then when we won, it was an amazing, incredible moment. It was an honor, and everything you’d think it would be. Plus it was at Madison Square Garden in New York, which was extra-special for me because it was like being at home. It was really great to share that moment together.

Did winning a Grammy change anything for you?

Hall: It helps. I don’t know how, but it seems like it does. People talk about it, yeah, and it gives you a moment of validation. There’s a lot of uncertainty in the music business, a lot of time spent wondering if something works – are we doing the right thing? What about the future? But winning a Grammy was just a moment of feeling like what you do is resonating. It’s a nice spark, something that goes right and keeps you rocking. Still, you just go right back to work. But that moment of recognition and success sure helps put some gas in the tank.

How do you manage the long-distance relationship of being in a band but living all over the country?

Falco: Living around the country, it’s important to stay connected creatively. So the holiday and Bill Monroe records served a purpose mentally. We weren’t just sitting on our hands waiting out the pandemic, we were creating during that time, which was important for our mental health. I was mixing at my house and when parts would come in, I’d put them into the track. What started with a rhythm guitar click track morphed into the Stringdusters sound. Those moments felt like we were making music together, and we were, just in a different way.

Given that you’re putting some definite socio-political content out with “Toward the Fray,” do people come around after shows wanting to argue?

Hall: Not too much. It’s presented in such a way that it’s all in context for people interested in the band and our music and what we have to say. Now if we were shoving messages down everybody’s throat on social media every day, I’m sure there would be more arguments happening. But that’s not how conversation should happen. Our job is to write songs expressing our feelings and put them out there, create work based on how we feel and what we think. That’s what we’ve done with this album and there’s not been a lot of pushback. What is there to argue about? It’s what we’re feeling, are people going to say no, it’s not? It is what it is. I hate arguing on social media, which never helps. Just create the art and move along.

Falco: As long as it’s genuine, you can say whatever you want about the feelings you’re putting out there, and then it’s all fair game. It just needs to be genuine because that’s the only way to write songs and play music.

Want to win tickets to see the Infamous Stringdusters at the Echoplex in Los Angeles? Enter our ticket giveaway.

Photo Credit: Jay Strausser Visuals

What Del McCoury and Ronnie McCoury Took From Monroe, Flux, and the Dawg

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Del McCoury is a legend many times over. A snapshot from any period of his life would be enough to earn him a place in the history books. From his time playing with Bill Monroe in the early ‘60s to fronting his own band with his sons Rob and Ronnie McCoury, Del’s career is a triumph. The Del McCoury Band is the most-awarded band in IBMA history, and Del has been honored with a Grammy Award, induction into the Bluegrass Hall of Fame, and a lifetime achievement award from the National Endowment for the Arts.

Since moving to Nashville in the early ’90s, The Del McCoury Band has recorded more albums than they can remember. (Literally. I asked them and they couldn’t remember. It approaches near two dozen.) Their latest album, Almost Proud, furthers their musical legacy. In a visit with The Bluegrass Situation, Del McCoury and Ronnie McCoury talk about recording it during the pandemic, digging through a big box of submissions for material, and learning a trick from Jerry Douglas that they still use to this day.

BGS: Del, you’ve fronted a band for many decades and this version with your sons has been around since the ’90s. How has the process of picking the material and arranging it changed over that course of time?

Del: Well, I’ll tell you, we used to do a lot of prep before we went in the studio, years ago when it was just me and the band. But now the boys have their own band and they’re a lot busier now. For the last several records, I just kind of picked the material and I’ll try to find the right key and tempo and all those things. And we won’t even have a rehearsal or anything until we get in the studio. We just mainly do all of the hard work in the studio after we’re in there.

I’ve always been in awe of how this band not only picks great material but also plays it in a way that makes it unique and often an instant bluegrass classic, no matter the original genre. What goes into how you pick material?

Ronnie: I still don’t know what Dad’s going to like. I found “1952 Vincent Black Lightning” through a guy named Dick Bowden. He gave me a tape of it after the band had played a show. It was just Richard Thompson playing solo guitar on a radio show. Dick said he thought it’d be a good song to cover and as soon as I heard it and the fingerstyle guitar I thought, “Wow, this could be good.” Well, I took it to Dad, and he passed on it for the record we were making. But then the next record, he pulled it out and said, “You know, I’ve been listening and I think that would make a pretty good song.” So, like I said, I don’t know what’s going to hit him and when it will.

But with my dad, it doesn’t matter what he plays or sings. Number one, it’s going to have strong guitar rhythm. Number two, it’s going to be his voice. Through the years, I figured he can sing about anything. For example, when he played with the Preservation Hall Jazz Band, everybody was like, “I wonder how this is going to work.” Well, he just opens his mouth and does what he does, and it is what it is, and it’s great! People will pigeonhole others for their style of singing. My dad’s got a high lonesome sound, but it always seems to work.

My dad taught us how to have that feel and the elements of first generation bluegrass. The drive, how to play fast and when you need to, how not to overplay, and how to back up behind a singer, things like that. People don’t always have a teacher that really knows that stuff, so it sometimes doesn’t come easily or at all. We were just lucky to have this guy who was so well-rounded. A great guitar player but a banjo player first and such a good singer. He can sing any part, and he loves to sing bass, too.

Those elements are all very present in this band for sure. The fiddle is a very lyrical instrument to begin with but I’ve always particularly considered Ronnie’s mandolin playing and Rob’s banjo playing to be a really interesting combination of melodic/lyrical and still very traditional sounding.

Del: Yeah, I know what you mean. They don’t strictly depend on melodic notes to do something, but they make their style work around the melody that they’re trying to play. They do that. They try to keep it fairly simple.

It’s very masterful, the subtlety of all of it. I imagine you had a hand in guiding them when they were younger.

Del: I tell you, I never even thought about my sons playing music. I don’t know why I didn’t, but I just didn’t. Maybe it’s because when I was learning to play, I had a lot of cousins. They’d hear me and they’d want to learn to play, and I’d show them something. And then, of course, next week they’d be into baseball or something else. They forgot about music that quick. And I guess I thought they might also lose interest in this music. But they never did. Rob started playing banjo when he’s about 9. Of course, I started playing guitar when I was 9, too. My older brother taught me the chords. But I was not really all that interested in playing until I heard Earl Scruggs. I was about 11 then. And that really switched something up in my brain.

But my boys, they were always around music. Ronnie played violin in school when he was really young, but he also was in Little League and he was their star pitcher. And you know what happened? His violin teacher told me, “He’s really doing good on this.” And I said, “Really?” She said, “Yeah, he learned so fast.” Well, it comes to where there is going to be a recital in school at the same time there’s going to be a big Little League baseball game. And he was supposed to be in both of them. He chose the baseball game. And, oh, his teacher called! She was so disheartened because he was one of her finest students. But he kind of forgot about music just for a little while.

And I took him with me to New York City. I was playing a show and Bill Monroe was one of the acts there. It was during Ronnie’s school vacation between Christmas and New Year’s so I brought him with me. Bill took an interest in Ronnie. He put his hat on him and he put his mandolin in his lap and he said, “Now you play me something on this mandolin.” I didn’t think nothing about it at the time. But when we got back home, Ronnie asked if he could have this old mandolin I carried around on the bus. And once Ronnie got that mandolin, he never laid it down.

Well, now those guys, when they did start learning to play on their own, I could hear them in my spare time—I was pretty busy in those days. And I hear them playing and I could tell they were missing a note here and there and I’d just tell them where to find it and then let them go on their own. I just didn’t bother them much. Boy, they learned fast.

That’s great. I think all of that is a big part of the sound but there’s something about the arrangements that has always made you all stand out, I think.

Ronnie: As far as arranging things, when we got to Nashville and did that first record, Jerry Douglas produced it and one of the first things that we did still sticks with me. I wound up singing “A Deeper Shade of Blue.” Flux is the one that gave us the beginning and end of it, this lick. And I was like, “Oh, wow, we can put a lick on tunes.” I was just so straight-ahead that I had never even thought to do that. I credit Flux with opening my ears to that because he’s so musical.

That is interesting because that kind of thing is usually associated with pop-adjacent music. Your music is so traditional but having those hooks does make the songs stick in your mind.

Ronnie: It probably also comes from listening to all kinds of music. I’m a product of the ‘80s. When I was in school I was hearing all of the rock and newer stuff that was being played on the radio. I never gravitated to it as much as I probably did to Southern rock. We loved the twin guitars of the Allman Brothers. What’s interesting is that those guys were listening to this stuff. Dickey Betts was a bluegrass fan and I remember he and Vassar had a duet thing. They used to play together in Florida.

That makes sense. There’s a full-circle element there as well. The Allman Brothers are sort of the prototypical jam band and now you guys are playing shows with Greensky, The String Cheese Incident, Railroad Earth, etc.

Ronnie: You’re right about that. Part of the reason we got into that world we’re in is that there’s already a Del McCoury Band, and we wanted to do something different, but we couldn’t call it the “Del-less McCoury Band.” So we had to do something that was different sounding. When I grew up I had no idea that mandolin players were doing anything but what Bill Monroe did. I was around 15 years old when the Dawg came out with that first record, the David Grisman Quintet album with Tony Rice on it.

The arrangements and playing on there were really influential and all that stuff squeaks into your music. You’re a product of what you hear, I guess. Those guys changed so much. There’s the guys that don’t get credit on the banjo like Bobby Thompson and then the next guy was Bill Keith. From Bill Keith comes [Tony] Trischka and Béla [Fleck], and it just moves on. But the Dawg, man, he was kind of the first one to take the Monroe and Wakefield stuff and stir it up like that. I’m a big proponent for him to be in the Hall of Fame.

The ensemble abilities of this group are some of the best in the business. Having so much family in the band lends itself to that, but Jason Carter and now Alan Bartram have been in the band so long I imagine that you all can anticipate what each other will do next.

Del: That’s true. It makes it easier, because I think we all kind of think alike and are satisfied in what we’re doing. And I’ll tell you something, I think it helps keep them interested. Like on live shows, we never have a set list, and they never know what’s coming next. When we get on stage, we just go up there and do a few tunes. I like to introduce each member of the band. I’ll let them tune or choose a song to sing after I get the four of them introduced. Then a lot of times we just start doing requests from the audience, and all through the set, we’ll try to work in things that we just recorded or had released, whatever. But for the most part, we’re doing requests from the audience. They know that when they go up on stage, they don’t know what’s happening next, and I don’t either, but that’s kind of the fun of it.

You are a link to those older traditions, and those were a lot more about performing than making records and stuff. It seems to me that performing and being an entertainer is what’s important to you.

Del: You know, I think it probably is because that’s what you do most. You’re never in a studio that long but before the pandemic we’d be out every week doing a show. I like talking to the audience. I think they entertain me more than I entertain them. For example, I ask them questions, like, “What would you like to hear next?” And what entertains me is they’ll request a song, but they get one word wrong or two in the title of the song.

For instance, we get a lot of requests for “1952 Vincent Black Lightning,” and what people have problems with is the year. So, I say back to them, “Well, I don’t know that song.” And then it gets real quiet and they’ll think, “Well, I know he knows that song because he’s got it on a record.” I let them wonder for a little bit before I’ll say, “Well, now, look, I know a song entitled ‘1952 Vincent Black Lightning,’” and then they’re relieved and I’ll play it for them. But just little things like that. They’re so funny. People are funny if you listen to them. They will entertain you.

You guys have put out so many records. Is there anything that makes this one stand out or feel special to you?

Ronnie: Well, probably the fact that during a pandemic, my dad worked and he sat down and listened to like 150 songs or something. He didn’t just rest on his laurels. We got him a tape recorder, a nicer one, that he could record his ideas on because he felt more comfortable working with a tape machine.

Del: All through the years, people have sent or given me songs while we were on the road. A lot of the time, I just throw them in a box and say, “Well, when I get time, I’ll listen to them, see what they are.” So, when this pandemic hit that spring, I thought, “Wow, I’ll get all those things out and listen to them.” And then I picked out certain songs and I started to work on them.

Ronnie: During this time, we’re wearing masks and sitting outside doing our radio show six feet apart and not going in the house. Everybody’s worried about my parents so we were careful. But he worked on this stuff and he wrote some songs. So, what’s special to me are just good memories, really. Just being able to be in a studio with Dad in the middle of a pandemic and getting it done and not having so much wasted time. … The hardest thing through the pandemic for me to see, besides the tragedies where people lost their lives to this stuff, was seeing my dad in his golden years, not being able to do what he wanted to do, which is to travel and play for the people. He knocks us all out with how he can play and sing at this age.

Yeah, it’s pretty amazing.

Ronnie: He knocks me out. I can’t get over it. Like I said, it was amazing to be able to go in and do this record through all this and that his health is still with him. So I’m just proud of that. “Almost Proud,” you could say, ha ha.

“Almost Proud,” there you go.

Photo Credit: Daniel Jackson

BGS 5+5: The Wooks

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Artist: The Wooks
Hometown: Lexington, Kentucky, and Nashville, Tennessee
Latest Album: Flyin’ High

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

I fish and kayak a lot, both here in Kentucky and elsewhere. Fishing and the time spent with friends doing so has certainly inspired me to write. Sometimes being outside and on the water helps me clear my mind for creativity, and sometimes the inspiration is more direct. “Mudfish Momma” is inspired by one of my favorite places to fish in Florida. Mudfish are also known as bowfin and are toothy creatures that often cut your line with their teeth, leaving you wondering if it was the one that got away or just another mudfish. My friend Ray Smith and I wrote the song together, and after telling Ray about this cool fishing spot and the mudfish that sometimes come to visit, he came up with the idea to make the Mudfish Momma a swampy Florida version of a mermaid. — CJ Cain

What is your favorite memory of being on stage?

Probably the first time I was ever on a “stage.” I had been playing mandolin for a couple of months and was really starting to get into it. A family friend called my mom to tell her that there was a fall bluegrass festival in a little rural community about 20 miles from where we lived. My mom took me and my brother to the park/fire station in Letona, Arkansas, where there was a flatbed gooseneck trailer set up with a bunch of what I’d assume were Shure SM57s (the international microphone of bluegrass). There was an open mic style jam and a group of pickers we had just met invited us to come up and play some tunes with them. That was the first time I’d ever heard myself back through a microphone and monitors and it was enough to get me hooked. That memory still stands out very vividly. — Harry Clark

What other art forms influence your music

I’m a huge fan of movies, and have been as long as I can remember. I love movies for the same reasons that everyone loves movies; it’s the thrill of being taken to another place and living a life other than our own for a brief moment, and perhaps returning to reality with some new perspective, knowledge, empathy, etc. I think a great song or composition can do that, too. When I write a song or instrumental piece, I want it to take the listener to another place, in a similar way that a movie would. Sometimes when I’m stuck writing a song or composition, I try to imagine a scene in a movie that might go along with the piece I’m writing. It usually helps to spark new ideas and make the music more evocative. Both “Virgil’s Prayer” and “Madison Chimes” came from this approach. I wrote “Virgil” one night after watching a few episodes of the Netflix show Ozark. The somber cinematography and dark subject matter were fresh in my mind and that song just kind of appeared as a result. I wrote “Madison Chimes” while driving around on a dark and spooky summer night in Madison, Tennessee, and that tune is basically just the soundtrack I imagined for that evening. — George Guthrie

What has been the best advice you’ve received in your career so far?

I have been fortunate to spend a good deal of time around my friend Tyler Childers, and have learned a great deal from him. He never said this directly but I have learned from writing with him and listening to his songs — that you not only can, but you should write about the people you have in your life that are inspiring to you. Their life story or simple daily life circumstances can make for wonderful storytelling songs. You can invoke a philosophy or thought through those stories in a more effective way than just spewing out lyrics that sound like you got something figured out. A good example of one of Tyler’s songs that does this is “Matthew,” a song about his brother-in-law and friend, and one that informed my creativity when I wrote “Flyin’ High.” — CJ Cain

Which artist has influenced you the most and how?

One of my favorites is Del McCoury. I’ve been listening to him and his band since I was an adolescent learning about bluegrass. Del keeps his core sound rooted in traditional bluegrass with both his vocal style and band dynamics while having the ability to reach new audiences with songs that aren’t inside the box of traditional bluegrass. A few examples of this are Tom Petty’s “Love Is a Long Road,” Robert Cray’s “Smoking Gun,” or the Richard Thompson ballad “1952 Vincent Black Lightning.” All three songs are from very different artists with contrasting styles. This has given Del different reaches in the music world and why it’s not uncommon to go to a Del McCoury Band show and see an audience of diehard traditionalists standing next to deadheads. His ability to bridge that gap between fans is outstanding. — Harry Clark

Photo Credit: Carrie Wilson/CW Photography

BGS Top 50 Moments – Lynn Morris: the National Banjo Champion Who Couldn’t Get an Audition

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To honor the start of Women’s History Month, we want to refocus your attention to a profile you might have missed the first time around; that of a true bluegrass icon, Lynn Morris. A prolific banjo player and singer whose illustrious career has included multiple International Bluegrass Music Award wins for Best Female Vocalist and Song of the Year, and an induction into the Bluegrass Music Hall of Fame in 2021 (alongside Alison Krauss and The Stoneman Family). Lynn was also the first female IBMA Board Member, and continues to be a mentor and supporter of the music, even after health issues took her away from center stage.

What sets this profile apart from the thousands of other features we’ve published is that it had some of the highest engagement we’ve ever seen on the site. Even now, nearly twenty years after her retirement, Lynn’s legacy continues to ripple through our community in big ways.

Bluegrass and roots music is as much about learning from and appreciating that which has come before as it is discovering what’s ahead. And BGS will continue to be a place that highlights that history for generations of future musicians and fans.

To read more about Lynn Morris and countless other female leaders in the genre, check out Murphy Hicks Henry’s Pretty Good for a Girl: Women in Bluegrass.

Photo credit: Rounder Records

LISTEN: Donna Ulisse, “Gray Rock, Red Clay Land”

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Artist: Donna Ulisse
Hometown: Hampton, Virginia
Song: “Gray Rock, Red Clay Land” (written by Donna Ulisse and Becky Buller)
Album: Livin’ Large
Release Date: February 25, 2022
Label: Billy Blue Records

In Their Words: “My husband Rick Stanley found our eight acres of paradise on a website one evening and talked me into going over for a gander. We had lived in Nashville proper for 31 years and the thought of leaving was bittersweet but when we saw this place in Lebanon, Tennessee, it was love at first sight. There are random, large slabs of limestone running through the fields where the most interesting purple and yellow flowers bloom. We had to dig some of them up to get it looking like we dreamed, which gave me the first line of the song. My daddy and brother were also here to help us when we first moved and I don’t think I can ever look at the sweeping pasture without seeing my daddy bent over working on the land. And YES, there is red clay to shovel through to plant a garden…so the hook fell out as natural as the flowers that grow here.” — Donna Ulisse

Photo Credit: Kim Lancaster