Justin Moses, “Taxland”

Multi-instrumentalist, sideman extraordinaire, podcast host, composer, and IBMA Award winner Justin Moses’ presence in bluegrass is as ubiquitous as it is unassuming — that is, in every way except when his picks meet the strings. Moses won Resophonic Guitar Player of the Year from the International Bluegrass Music Association in 2018 and 2020; he’s also recorded on countless sessions and albums, played on the Grand Ole Opry, and has toured with Dan Tyminski, Ricky Skaggs & Kentucky Thunder, and for more than a decade he’s been touring and recording music with his wife of three years, Sierra Hull.

A new track, “Taxland,” which features double mandolins played by Moses and Hull, marries his quiet, often humble virtuosity and his confidence on the mandolin. Moses can command any/all of bluegrass’s staple instruments, resulting in a melody that is all at once careening wildly towards its end and impossibly, impeccably clean. An unfamiliar listener might find it difficult to pick out which instrument belongs to Moses and which to Hull, a testament to their seamless musical gelling after years and years of collaborating. Inspired, loosely, by David “Dawg” Grisman’s new acoustic, post- jazz and swing bluegrass, the tune is housed in a cheerful minor key, as Dawg tunes often are, and Michael Cleveland’s wonky, edge-of-your-seat fiddle solo recalls Vassar Clements’ forays in new acoustic, but not without Cleveland’s own brand of idiosyncratic, bombastic bowing and double-stops peppered throughout. 

That a song could feel so improvisational, melodious, and frenetic while retaining its impossible polish once again points back to Moses’ lifelong career in bluegrass and his endless professionalism not only as a creator, but as a technician of each instrument he commands. With Barry Bales and Bryan Sutton — two more lifelong friends and fellow music makers — rounding out the fivesome, “Taxland” will stick with you for longer than just its nearly three minutes and thirty seconds. If you’re a musician like Moses, it just might last you from April ‘til your extension deadline.


Photo credit: Kady Carter

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stirring stuff up is the way we make progress.

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

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

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

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

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


Erin McAnally is a regular contributor to The Bluegrass Situation

Photo Credit: Jeff Fasano

MIXTAPE: Songs That Changed Jon Stickley’s Life and Still Blow His Mind

When I was a senior in high school, my lacrosse teammate Andy Thorn loaned me a couple CDs and a mandolin. The two CDs were the original David Grisman Quintet album and Sam Bush’s Glamour and Grits. I was an angsty teen drummer in a punk band, and when I popped the Grisman album in my Sony Discman and pushed play, my life changed forever.

We started a little band and I started learning mandolin and making weekly trips to the local record store to buy every “newgrass” album I could. I didn’t know anything, so searching through the bluegrass/country section was an adventure of discovery. I learned to recognize the font that Rounder Records used and started using liner notes to find other musicians to listen to.

A lot of the tracks on this list are track #1 on the album, and I think that’s because when I heard them for the first time, they magically seared themselves into my brain. When I hear them today they inspire the same excitement as they did when I first heard them, and they have had an enormous impact on the music that I create for the Jon Stickley Trio. — Jon Stickley

David Grisman – “E.M.D.”

The first track I ever heard in the vein of bluegrass/newgrass. I heard David Count “1,2,3,4…” just like the Ramones! Then they launch into the most indescribable, unbelievable, clean, rockin’ jam I’ve ever heard. Also my first introduction to my guitar hero, Tony Rice. Nothing compares to this track!

Sam Bush – “Whayasay”

Another leading cut. This was my introduction to the one and only Sam Bush. His kickoff tells you everything you need to know about Sam’s music. It’s masterful, tasteful, and it freakin’ ROCKS. Then he goes totally Mark Knopfler at the end. Blew my young mind!

Jerry Douglas, Russ Barenburg & Edgar Meyer – “Big Sciota”

I picked this record up at the store because, on the back cover, they are dressed in gorilla suits. I thought, these dudes MUST be cool. Something about the tone of this record is unparalleled. It’s just the nicest-sounding acoustic record I’ve ever heard. Still cook dinner to it almost every night and my wife walked down the aisle to another track from the album called “The Years Between.”

Ricky Skaggs & Kentucky Thunder – “Pig In A Pen”

Holy crap. This is another album I bought blind at the record shop knowing absolute nothing about the music. To this day I have never heard anything rock this hard! Also, my first intro to a big guitar hero, Bryan Sutton.

Bryan Sutton – “Decision At Glady Fork”

Senior year of high school my uncle Pat took me to the Béla Fleck Bluegrass Sessions concert. I knew who Sam Bush and Béla were, but it was my first time hearing Jerry Douglas, Stuart Duncan, and the young Bryan Sutton. They played this song and the audience pooped their pants!

Béla Fleck – “Blue Mountain Hop”

The ultimate supergroup in my opinion. This song got me thinking about composition and arrangement in a new way. It seems like each new part of the song was written with each individual soloist in mind. Also the giggles and growls in the intro remind you that they’re having a ball.

Béla Fleck & the Flecktones – “Sinister Minister”

Two words. Victor Wooten. Blew. My. Young. Mind! I’ve listened to this version of this song more times than I can count, and it’s one of the covers that we do in the trio. The Flecktones probably had more of an impact on our trio than anyone else out there.

The Bluegrass Album Band – “Blue Ridge Cabin Home”

This is another album where I had no idea what I was buying. It wasn’t until I looked at the back of the CD that I realized that Tony Rice was on it. It was my introduction to J.D. Crowe, Doyle Lawson, Bobby Hicks, and Todd Phillips. I fell in love with bluegrass banjo by listening to this song, and I was thrilled to find out there were five more volumes!!!

The Nashville Bluegrass Band – “Dog Remembers Bacon”

Another record store score that I grabbed just because “bluegrass” was in the title. LOL. These guys became my favorite group for years and this was always one of my favorite tracks. I learned about Gillian Welch from this album. Stuart Duncan is the best fiddler in the world!

Acoustic Syndicate – “No Time”

Man, I love these dudes SO much. My Uncle Pat gave this album to my dad around ‘98, and I promptly stole it. The chill energy of this album really spoke to me and I feel like it really embodies the spirit of the North Carolina festival scene. Super sentimental band for me!

Tracks from our new album “Scripting the Flip” that draw heavy on these influences:

Jon Stickley Trio – “Scripting the Flip”

This song is pretty much a bluegrass fiddle tune turned on its head. It reminds me of some of my favorite newgrass instrumentals that take the music somewhere new.

Jon Stickley Trio – “Driver”

Well, given that my buddy Andy Thorn got me into this music waaaaay back in the day, I had to bring it full circle and write a tune for him to come in and play on. This piece definitely draws on the music of the Flecktones and some of the tunes they play in odd meters.

Jon Stickley Trio – “Bluegrass in the Backwoods”

Kenny Baker, Bill Monroe’s longtime fiddler, was surprisingly one of the most innovative of the classic bluegrass pickers! He is thought of as a traditional fiddler, but his music is really anything but. I think this tune was way ahead of its time and we love the elements of gypsy jazz and Latin music in the melody. We HAD to cover this on at some point and it was so much fun!


Photo credit: Sandlin Gaither

WATCH: Bryan Sutton Declares He’ll “Lay Down My Old Guitar” on ‘Live From Here’

If you find yourself stuck in the late-winter blues, this video is for you. Ten-time IBMA Guitar Player of the Year Bryan Sutton visited Live From Here with Chris Thile recently, and the result was nothing short of breathtaking. Sutton and Thile teamed up on a classic bluegrass number, “Gonna Lay Down My Old Guitar,” but there was nothing ordinary about the performance. The in-the-moment communication between Sutton and Thile is truly a sight to behold as they trade blazing leads, soulful harmonies, and curious facial expressions. From the moment it kicks off, the audience is treated to an experience that only two prodigious instrumentalists like these can provide. If you’re in need of a little extra to get through the day, week, or month, look no further.


 

IBMA Reveals Award Nominees, Hall of Fame Inductees, Distinguished Achievement Winners

Five of the top bands in bluegrass earned IBMA Entertainer of the Year nominations from the International Bluegrass Music Association. The ballot was revealed on Wednesday morning in Nashville.

The Entertainer of the Year nominees are Balsam Range, Sam Bush Band, The Earls of Leicester, Del McCoury Band, and Joe Mullins & the Radio Ramblers.

Due to a tie, seven titles will compete for the Song of the Year category. The IBMA Awards will take place Thursday, September 26, at the Duke Energy Performing Arts Center in Raleigh, North Carolina, with hosts Jim Lauderdale and Del McCoury.

Mike Auldridge, Bill Emerson, and the Kentucky Colonels have also been named as inductees into the Bluegrass Hall of Fame.

Distinguished Achievement Award recipients include radio personality Katy Daley, Mountain Home label founder Mickey Gamble, former IBMA executive director Dan Hays, The Lost and Found founder Allen Mills, and Japanese language magazine Moonshiner, now in its 37th year covering bluegrass and acoustic music.

The full ballot is below.

ENTERTAINER OF THE YEAR

Balsam Range
Sam Bush Band
The Earls of Leicester
Del McCoury Band
Joe Mullins & the Radio Ramblers

VOCAL GROUP OF THE YEAR

Balsam Range
I’m With Her
Doyle Lawson & Quicksilver
Russell Moore & IIIrd Tyme Out
Sister Sadie

INSTRUMENTAL GROUP OF THE YEAR

Sam Bush Band
Michael Cleveland & Flamekeeper
The Earls of Leicester
Ricky Skaggs & Kentucky Thunder
The Travelin’ McCourys

NEW ARTIST OF THE YEAR

Appalachian Road Show
Carolina Blue
High Fidelity
Mile Twelve
Billy Strings

SONG OF THE YEAR (7 nominees, due to a tie)

“Dance, Dance, Dance”
Artist: Appalachian Road Show
Writers: Brenda Cooper/Joseph Cooper/Steve Miller
Producers: Barry Abernathy, Darrell Webb, Ben Isaacs
Executive Producer: Dottie Leonard Miller
Label: Billy Blue Records

“The Girl Who Invented the Wheel”
Artist: Balsam Range
Writers: Adam Wright/Shannon Wright
Producer: Balsam Range
Executive Producer: Mickey Gamble
Label: Mountain Home Music Company

“The Guitar Song”
Artist: Joe Mullins & the Radio Ramblers with Del McCoury
Writers: Bill Anderson/Jamey Johnson/Vicky McGehee
Producer: Joe Mullins
Associate Producer: Jerry Salley
Label: Billy Blue Records

“The Light in Carter Stanley’s Eyes”
Artist: Peter Rowan
Writer: Peter Rowan
Producer: Peter Rowan
Associate Producer: Tim O’Brien
Label: Rebel Records

“Next Train South”
Artist: The Po’ Ramblin’ Boys
Writer: Mac Patterson
Producers: The Po’ Ramblin’ Boys, Dave Maggard, Ken Irwin
Label: Rounder Records

“Take the Journey”
Artist: Molly Tuttle
Writers: Molly Tuttle/Sarah Siskind
Producer: Ryan Hewitt
Label: Compass Records

“Thunder Dan”
Artist: Sideline
Writer: Josh Manning
Producer: Tim Surrett
Label: Mountain Home Music Company

ALBUM OF THE YEAR

City on a Hill
Artist: Mile Twelve
Producer: Bryan Sutton
Label: Independent

Del McCoury Still Sings Bluegrass
Artist: Del McCoury Band
Producers: Del and Ronnie McCoury
Label: McCoury Music

For the Record
Artist: Joe Mullins & the Radio Ramblers
Producer: Joe Mullins
Associate Producer: Jerry Salley
Label: Billy Blue Records

I Hear Bluegrass Calling Me
Artist: Carolina Blue
Producers: Bobby Powell, Tim and Lakin Jones
Executive Producers: Lonnie Lassiter and Ethan Burkhardt
Label: Pinecastle Records

Sister Sadie II
Artist: Sister Sadie
Producer: Sister Sadie
Label: Pinecastle Records

GOSPEL RECORDING OF THE YEAR

“Acres of Diamonds”
Artist: Joe Mullins & the Radio Ramblers
Producer: Joe Mullins
Associate Producer: Jerry Salley
Label: Billy Blue Records

“Gonna Sing, Gonna Shout”
Artist: Claire Lynch
Producer: Jerry Salley
Label: Billy Blue Records

“I Am a Pilgrim”
Artist: Roland White and Friends
Producers: Ty Gilpin, Jon Weisberger
Label: Mountain Home Music Company

“I See God”
Artist: Marty Raybon
Producer: Jerry Salley
Label: Billy Blue Records

“Let My Life Be a Light”
Artist: Balsam Range
Producer: Balsam Range
Executive Producer: Mickey Gamble
Label: Mountain Home Music Company

INSTRUMENTAL RECORDING OF THE YEAR

“Cotton Eyed Joe”
Artist: Sideline
Producer: Tim Surrett
Label: Mountain Home Music Company

“Darlin’ Pal(s) of Mine”
Artist: Missy Raines with Alison Brown, Mike Bub, and Todd Phillips
Producer: Alison Brown
Label: Compass Records

“Earl’s Breakdown”
Artist: The Earls of Leicester
Producer: Jerry Douglas
Label: Rounder Records

“Fried Taters and Onions”
Artist: Carolina Blue
Producers: Bobby Powell, Tim and Lakin Jones
Executive Producers: Lonnie Lassiter and Ethan Burkhardt
Label: Pinecastle Records

“Sunrise”
Artist: Sam Bush & Bela Fleck
Producers: Akira Otsuka, Ronnie Freeland
Label: Smithsonian Folkways Records

COLLABORATIVE RECORDING OF THE YEAR

“Burning Georgia Down”
Artist: Balsam Range with Atlanta Pops Orchestra Ensemble
Producer: Balsam Range
Label: Mountain Home Music Company

“Darlin’ Pal(s) of Mine”
Artist: Missy Raines with Alison Brown, Mike Bub, and Todd Phillips
Producer: Alison Brown
Label: Compass Records

“The Guitar Song”
Artist: Joe Mullins & the Radio Ramblers with Del McCoury
Producer: Joe Mullins
Associate Producer: Jerry Salley
Label: Billy Blue Records

“Please”
Artist: Rhonda Vincent and Dolly Parton
Producers: Dave Cobb, John Leventhal, Frank Liddell
Label: MCA Nashville

“Soldier’s Joy/Ragtime Annie”
Artist: Roland White with Justin Hiltner, Jon Weisberger, Patrick McAvinue, and Molly Tuttle
Producers: Ty Gilpin, Jon Weisberger
Label: Mountain Home Music Company

MALE VOCALIST OF THE YEAR

Shawn Camp
Del McCoury
Russell Moore
Tim O’Brien
Danny Paisley

FEMALE VOCALIST

Brooke Aldridge
Dale Ann Bradley
Sierra Hull
Molly Tuttle
Rhonda Vincent

BANJO PLAYER OF THE YEAR

Gina Furtado
Mike Munford
Noam Pikelny
Kristin Scott Benson
Scott Vestal

BASS PLAYER OF THE YEAR

Barry Bales
Mike Bub
Beth Lawrence
Missy Raines
Mark Schatz

FIDDLE PLAYER OF THE YEAR

Hunter Berry
Becky Buller
Jason Carter
Michael Cleveland
Stuart Duncan

RESOPHONIC GUITAR PLAYER OF THE YEAR

Jerry Douglas
Andy Hall
Rob Ickes
Phil Leadbetter
Justin Moses

GUITAR PLAYER OF THE YEAR

Kenny Smith
Billy Strings
Bryan Sutton
Molly Tuttle
Josh Williams

MANDOLIN PLAYER OF THE YEAR

Alan Bibey
Sam Bush
Sierra Hull
Ronnie McCoury
Frank Solivan

Guitarist David Grier Steps Out as a Lead Singer, Too

David Grier gets asked all kinds of questions.

He’s asked about his phenomenal cross-picking guitar techniques, which put him among the greatest bluegrass/folk players of the last several decades, talked about in the same breath with Doc Watson, Clarence White, and Tony Rice.

He’s asked about his dad, Lamar, who played banjo with Bill Monroe. Yeah, that Bill Monroe, the Father of Bluegrass.

He’s asked about Clarence White’s brother Roland, the Kentucky Colonels mandolinist who was an early teacher of his. And of course he’s also asked Clarence, Grier’s big influence, who brought bluegrass guitar into the rock age with the Colonels and then, on electric guitar, powered early country-rock with the Byrds.

He’s asked, maybe too much, about his beard, a prodigious gray broadsword of whiskers stretching from chin to navel, an abstraction of which is the signature feature of his silhouette, featured on his T-shirts and other merch.

But one thing the D.C.-raised, Nashville-based musician is never really asked about: His singing. And for good reason. He’s never done it.

“It’s always been, ‘Why don’t you sing? You play guitar!’” he says, an irrepressible joviality marking his droll drawl.

Somehow, he sighs, people often seem to think that simply because he plays guitar he ought to sing too.

“I know I play guitar,” he says, more amused than exasperated. “I never donated any time toward [singing]. I tried once or twice through the years. Just like anything else, I gave it five or ten times and stopped.”

Until now.

His new album, Ways of the World, features five songs with him on lead vocals. That’s a first. In his career going back to the early ‘80s and covering ten solo albums now, several side projects (Psychograss, Helen Highwater Stringband), and hundreds of guest spots and sessions, he’s never stepped out as a vocalist before.

And in a rather bold move, he puts his lead vocals alongside some noted vocal talents: Maura O’Connell, Tim O’Brien, Shad Cobb, Andrea Zonn, and Mike Compton. What’s more, he’s feels pretty good about it.

“I do,” he says. “I know later I won’t, because every time I think something’s perfect, I listen to it later and go, ‘Gee, why didn’t I hear that before?’”

So the next question comes naturally: “Why now?”

“It was the Helen Highwater Stringband,” he says. “Three or four years ago they said they needed another singer for a vocal trio. They looked at me. I said, ‘I don’t sing!’ They said, ‘You do now!’ I went, ‘Wow.’ They were encouraging. It was helpful. All that went into account and then I did it on stage. People weren’t running for the exits, so this is good. And it just kept going.”

If he was going to sing, he needed words, and he dove right into that as well. Songwriting was another new challenge.

“I’d written the first two lines: ‘I’m afloat on the great big waves of the ocean, I drift on the ways of the world,’” he says of the title song, with Zonn singing with him, which opens the album. “I thought, ‘Hell! That’s going to be a song!’”

But he thought he’d need help and, while heading out for a five-and-a-half-week tour in South Africa, he went to a friend to have him finish it. That didn’t happen. So with two off-days he set to it himself.

“I finished it in an Airbnb on the beach in South Africa,” he says.

It was a whatever-it-takes approach to songwriting. “Dust Bowl Dream,” with harmonies by O’Brien, came from a bar bet for a round of drinks with some Nashville buddies as to who could write the best song in a week.

“I wasn’t even going to write a song,” he says. “Thought I’d just buy drinks for the buddies. But I had this melody that was lonesome and I thought, ‘Well, dust bowl is lonesome.’ Wrote the words in an airport, wrote the verse, chorus, second verse. I thought it was great. Got to the hotel later that day and started playing. First verse was great, second was great, last verse was horrible! I wrote another and that was worse. I went back to the first version I wrote and thought, ‘If I don’t sing it, that’s great.’ So I talk through it, like Bill Anderson would. It’s a recitation, and I think it really helped the tune. You feel it more.”

Now, all you who savor every splendiferous Grier guitar lick, dread not. The five songs featuring vocals are accompanied by eight sparkling instrumentals, and the ones with singing also feature, of course, his spectacular picking.

The heartfelt vocal numbers are surrounded by a selection of wryly titled original picking showcases (“Waiting on Daddy’s Money,” “The Curmudgeon’s Gait,” and so on) and sparkling interpretations of, or variations on, old fiddle tunes (“Billy in the Lowground”). And playing with Grier is a stellar cast of associates: a core of Casey Campbell on mandolin, Stuart Duncan on fiddle, Dennis Crouch on bass, with John Gardner on drums for some songs, and banjo from Justin Moses and Cory Walker. What’s more, there’s electric guitar by Bryan Sutton on one song (“Dustbowl Dream”) and on “Farewell to Redboots,” there’s trumpet by Rod McGaha — something perhaps even more surprising than Grier’s singing.

“For me having a trumpet on a song is brand new,” he says. “I just heard it in my head that way and imagined it that way. But having it happen was amazing.”

The whole experience, it seems, was liberating in a way that led Grier to try some different approaches to his picking, as if the pressure was off to make the album completely about that. The result is a rich, engaging tone throughout.

“I think on this record there’s less flash, just for flash’s sake,” he says. “Less, ‘Watch what I can do! Watch! This is hot!’ This is more reined in for a bit. Some of the solos are simplistic, and in my mind harken back to the beginnings of bluegrass music.”

He cites the intro to one song, “Dead Flowers,” an original, not the Rolling Stones song.

“That’s as basic as you can be,” he says, noting that it happened that way in the moment when he was caught off guard. “I got in the studio and thought someone else would kick it off. ‘Who’s gonna kick it off?’ Crickets. ‘You start it.’”

On the other hand, he also found himself spontaneously taking some other unexpected directions in “Red Boots.”

“There are three solos in that,” he says. “First one of me, then the horn, then me again. The first one’s just the melody, nothing fancy. The melody is cool. But the last solo is completely different, a little bit of Wes Montgomery, some string-bending in there. Just popped out! I’d never played that before. Every time I’d played that song it was just the melody, ‘cause I’m generally sitting here playing by myself. In the studio it was, ‘Well, I’ve done that. I want to do something different.’ I like that. Fresh and exciting. Note by note. Not the boring same old thing.”

And that’s the thread of the whole album.

“A lot of improvisation on this record,” he says. “From my viewpoint, it’s playful. All in the vibe. Not some hot lick thrown in just to show I can play a hot lick.”

Not that he isn’t proud of his playing here.

“There’s things in there people might want to learn when they hear it,” he says.

And speaking of learning, one more question: Has he ever tried fingerpicking?

Grier sighs.

“That’s another thing maybe I gave five minutes.

Well… given what he said about singing, stay tuned for the next album.


Photo credit: Scott Simontacchi

Hot Rize Turns 40: Nick Forster and Tim O’Brien Look Back

He’s had 40 years to think about it, but it took Nick Forster a while to get to a real answer to some existential questions about Hot Rize, the bluegrass-rooted band he, mandolinist-singer Tim O’Brien, banjo wizard Pete Wernick and guitar master Charles Sawtelle formed in in Denver in early 1978. Just what is it that made Hot Rize, well, Hot Rize? And just what is it that make the band — which will host the 29th annual International Bluegrass Music Association Awards on Sept. 27 in Raleigh, North Carolina — still treasured, still distinctive, lo these two score years later?

Forster paused at the question, and then hemmed and hawed a bit before giving it a try. First he tried to break it down to the talents and sensibilities they each brought to the mix. Then he tackled the way they all interacted — the natural combo of O’Brien’s and Wernick’s instrumental skills, O’Brien’s voice, the instinctive guitar skills of Sawtelle (and later of Bryan Sutton, who stepped in when Sawtelle died of cancer in 1999). And then he looked at the balance of celebrating traditions and exploring new paths with choices of material. Blah blah blah. Whatever.

Finally, almost sheepishly, he mentioned one other thing: “Also maybe, I don’t know if it came through sonically, but we were having fun!” he offered. “We were pretty young and had a sense of humor and were having fun!”

Well, there we have it. For fans, for anyone who’s heard the band, there’s no “maybe” about it. From the very first gigs through the three-night anniversary celebration at the Boulder Theater in January with guests Sam Bush, Stuart Duncan and Jerry Douglas — commemorated on the new 40th Anniversary Bash album, recorded in January at the Boulder Theater — it’s that ineffable spirit that stands out, even if we can’t really identify it any better than Forster did.

But let’s let O’Brien have a stab at it as well.

“I don’t want to compare to Bob Marley or anything,” O’Brien says, risking those dangerous waters anyway. “But he was trying to make country music and rock ’n’ roll, and that’s what came out. He had his thing and place and time and what he did. We were too hippiefied and too Western or something to play it like the guys from the Southeast, I guess. We were a Boulder band, a college town band. But we were also a reaction to the Newgrass movement. We adjusted the steering a bit. That was a little too far to the left of us. So we went to the center, but we were still a good deal left of center. … So I don’t know,” he concludes. “It was a weird recipe that seemed to work.”

Not that they followed any recipe, let alone a long-term game plan.

“We thought we’d just play for the summer,” says O’Brien, pulling one right out of the Famous Last Words file.

That was the view from their first gig, in Denver, on May 1, 1978, growing out of jam sessions at the Denver Folklore Center, where they all had found jobs. From the very start there was something different, distinctive about them — the first song the four of them remember playing together was not bluegrass at all, but “Wichita Lineman.” Just two weeks after the May Day gig they were up in Minneapolis booked to play on a new public radio show called Prairie Home Companion, and a month after that they were on the bill of the Telluride Bluegrass Festival. And without even thinking about it, they found themselves in a full-time proposition.

“The fact that we didn’t have a long commitment meant we would just be a band for as long as we had gigs,” Forster says, noting that Wernick, a.k.a. Dr. Banjo, served as de facto booking agent as well as band member. “So we kept saying, ‘Yes.’ Pete would say, ‘Do you want to play this wedding? This party? This club?’ ‘Yes!’ We had a goal of trying to make $100 a week take-home pay each. That was a lot of pressure on Pete.”

It was quite the time. Forster and O’Brien were in their mid-20s, Wernick and Sawtelle in their early 30s, all having found their way to Colorado from various points on the compass, meeting through working at the Denver Folklore Center. Fairly quickly, jam sessions grew into something more solid. Forster was recruited to play electric bass (which packed into a car trunk more easily than an acoustic bass), though it was an instrument he’d never played before. As soon as they hit the road they found themselves in the middle of some amazing settings.

“It was an incredible time to be in a bluegrass band, in my view,” Forster says, a time when many of the founding fathers of the form were still going strong, while a new generation — the “newgrass” crowd — was searching for fresh ways to expand the bluegrass lexicon. “I don’t know that we’re fully the third generation of bluegrass, but maybe two-and-a-half. So if we played festivals in the late ‘70s, and because there weren’t as many bands then, a lot of times you’d play the whole weekend, Friday, Saturday and Sunday, two shows a day. So Bill Monroe and Ralph Stanley and Jim & Jesse, and [such younger bands as] Seldom Scene and Hot Rize would do two sets a day.”

That was just a part of the vibrant world in which they found themselves.

“Between the sets, you’d sit at your merch table and there’s Bill Monroe sitting at the merch table, and Jim & Jesse, and you’re at someone’s farm in Oklahoma or Georgia, so lots of personal hang time with everyone.”

They didn’t exactly become pals with the old-timers, but a community quickly formed among the younger musicians, particularly after Hot Rize became a client of booking agent Keith Case, whose roster included Newgrass Revival (featuring Sam Bush), John Hartford, autoharp magician Bryan Bowers and Norman and Nancy Blake. Case took advantage of any opportunity to have two or more of those acts sharing bills as much as he could.

“That was so incredible,” Forster says, “to be part of this rolling band of gypsies. Almost every other weekend you’d run into one or even three or four of them.”

Gig by gig it kept going, and kept getting bigger, abetted by their association with their, uh, friends, Western swing ensemble Red Knuckles & the Trailblazers. (“Oh yeah,” Forster sighs. “Those guys.”) By 1990 it had gotten so big that Hot Rize was named Entertainer of the Year in the very first IBMA Awards. But it had also gotten so big that O’Brien and Forster in particular found themselves reassessing things.

“Three things happened concurrently,” Forster says. “We achieved so many of our original goals, frankly. We got to make records, got a bus, got to play the Opry and Austin City Limits, could play any festival. Spectacular. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but we felt a little like, ‘Okay, we’ve done this. This is the end of a chapter.’ Pete and Charles, being older than Tim and me, said, ‘You guys, you don’t understand! This is the brass ring! We hit the jackpot! We’re a band and we can play together and it’s going to get better.’ And we being in our mid-30s rather than mid-40s thought, ‘That’s cool, but we’re going to do other things.’”

And so Hot Rize went into “rest mode,” as Forster puts it. O’Brien, who had established himself as an in-demand songwriter, signed a solo deal with RCA and recruited Forster, who had gone on tour with Sam Bush and John Cowan, to join his band. In the course of that, Forster came up with the idea for a radio show combining roots music and discussion of environmental sustainability, about as Colorado a concept as you could find. That show, eTown, launched in 1991, with its demands ultimately being too much for him to stay on the road with O’Brien.

Meanwhile, Wernick started Live Five (sometimes known as Flexigrass) with some Klezmer-meets-Dixieland approaches, while Sawtelle worked with Peter Rowan and opened a studio, taking on production gigs. There were many calls for reunions, and now and then they would get together for one-offs or a few gigs. When Sawtelle was diagnosed with cancer in 1996 there was a feeling that they needed to do something bigger and took on a full tour, resulting in a live album. After Sawtelle died in 1999 there were occasional shows with several guitarists stepping in, including Peter Rowan a few times. Then Sutton came on board as a full-time member in 2002, though “full-time” was still fairly sporadic, peaking with a 2014 album, When I’m Free, and the first real tour since the sorta-hiatus.

And then they saw that 40th anniversary looming and it was too big to overlook.

“The approach was frankly just celebratory,” Forster says of the concerts. “This is a milestone and it should not go unnoticed. So let’s just do something fun and have a party.”


Photo credit: Jim McGuire

A Desire to Inspire: A Conversation With Molly Tuttle

I can’t pin down the year I first heard Molly Tuttle picking a few tunes in a Sugar Hill Records suite at the IBMA’s World of Bluegrass, but I know it was before the event’s 2013 move to Raleigh, and I know I wasn’t the first to pay attention to her guitar playing. Indeed, it was only a few more years until Bryan Sutton called her name as a picker to listen to in the course of accepting one of his ten IBMA Guitar Player of the Year trophies—and just two years after that, last fall, she accepted the same award herself.  

Even so, her growing recognition among bluegrassers has led to a higher profile for Molly in the broader musical world; she earned the Folk Alliance’s Song of the Year award in February, and a nomination for this year’s Americana Music Association’s Instrumentalist of the Year title, too. Between that, her own eclectic outlook, and the predispositions of journalists unfamiliar with the bluegrass world, it’s not hard to see why the musical substance of her engagement with the genre can sometimes be given short shrift. Yet the fact is, she appears to be as happy tearing through a bluegrass classic in the company of her youthful contemporaries—or with a certified bluegrass legend or three—as she is playing anything else.

I was reminded of this shortly before our interview, when Instagram presented me with a snippet of video that showed her sitting in with the East Nashville Grass, a collection of pickers who mostly work in other bands, at a ‘grass-friendly’ Madison club—and since the next Molly Tuttle record is still likely months away, it seemed like a good place to start the conversation.

Just this morning, I saw a video of you sitting in with the East Nashville Grass guys, ripping on some bluegrass—“White Freightliner Blues,” which I know you’ve been doing for a while—and it got me to wondering. Your dad was a music teacher when you were growing up; was he more of a folk guy, or an acoustic guy generally, or a bluegrass guy?

What my dad always loved was bluegrass. He grew up playing bluegrass, and that’s really what he studied and what he loves. But he did end up playing some folkier music; he played in a band called the Gryphon Quintet, which was all people who worked at Gryphon Music, the store he teaches out of. And that was jazzier stuff, some swing stuff, four-part harmony arrangements, and some of their stuff was kind of folky, too. So he ended up playing a bunch of different styles, but he really comes from bluegrass.

So when the family band got started, it was a bluegrass band.

Yeah!

You’re getting out beyond the bluegrass audience these days, into the larger musical world, and there’s been a whole line of people over the years who have done that. What do you think you’ve learned as a bluegrass musician that you carry with you when you do all this other stuff?

I think one of the most valuable things I learned was improvising and making up my own solos. Just being creative, really, because it’s such a creative genre. Some of the most incredible improvisers in the world are bluegrass musicians and you can really carry that into any genre—those improvisational concepts, you can take those in so many different directions. So that’s something I feel bluegrass really taught me, something I can use for the rest of my life.

And also, technique. I think it’s so important in bluegrass to have great technique, to be able to play fast, slow…I think that was really helpful for me to learn. And the style itself is so authentic. It has this raw feeling to it, and my favorite bluegrass is old bluegrass, where it’s all so live and energetic—just real, authentic stories from their lives. I think that’s really inspiring.

I’ve heard from some younger musicians that when they found a bluegrass jam or something like that when they were getting started, the older guys were really encouraging and supportive—and then, when they started getting into other kinds of music, those folks weren’t so supportive. Have you run into that?

A little bit. People just like what they like, so people who love traditional bluegrass aren’t as supportive as others about me branching out and doing new stuff. But I haven’t run into too many people who are openly discouraging me from doing what I want—it’s just not their cup of tea, so they’re not as excited.

When you started putting the Molly Tuttle Band together, how did you decide what you wanted? Was that a question in your mind—am I going to have a banjo player?

It kind of was! But it was like the right musicians just sort of presented themselves to me. I’ve played with Wes [Corbett] for three years now and he’s such an amazing musician—he’s so versatile. He plays amazing stuff on my songs that are more singer-songwritery, but he’s an incredible bluegrass musician, too. So it’s been a great fit for me. I think the bluegrass band just made sense. But then, I’ve been working on a new album that has drums on everything, and electric guitars, so I think going forward I’m going to be trying out different band lineups.

Are you working on your new record a few days at a time, or did you set aside a big block of time to make a whole record?

We had six days where we got all the tracks done; eleven songs, all with the same band. We did that at Sound Emporium and it was mostly all live. And then I went in and did harmony overdubs, I overdubbed some vocals, put some other instruments on, tracked strings—that was really fun. Nathaniel Smith worked out these really great string arrangements with Rachel Baiman and Mike Barnett, so they came in. And then we got some special guests on it—Sierra [Hull] came in and played, which was fun. So it’s just been going into the studio and finishing things up whenever I’m back from touring.

So maybe the next big release coming out that you’re on is a Roland White tribute project. And there was definitely an element there of you kind of playing the part of Clarence White on the tunes that you did. How do you prepare for that, for playing the part of Clarence White?

I just went and listened to recordings of Clarence. And with “I Am a Pilgrim,” there’s this great YouTube video of Clarence and Roland playing it, and Clarence was playing the coolest stuff ever. I teach at camps sometimes, and last summer, I thought it would be fun to teach a workshop on Clarence White, so I transcribed his rhythm playing on that, and was teaching it to people. So that was a good one to get to do, because I already knew some of the licks, and I’m obsessed with his playing on that song—it was fun to try to get into that mindset.

It seems like you really succeeded in being Molly Tuttle, but also Molly Tuttle playing Clarence White.

That’s what I was trying to do, so that’s good to hear.

We played a house concert a few weeks ago, where [12-year-old fiddler] Clare Brown and her dad came out and opened for us. I heard her doing a soundcheck with “White Freightliner Blues,” and I thought, I’ll bet I know where she learned that. Does it freak you out that there are even younger musicians coming up who are influenced by you?

I think that’s so exciting and that’s what I wanted to do with my music since really early on: inspire the younger generation, especially younger girls. I think it’s really important for them to see the generation of women before them doing it. So that’s one of the things that keeps me going with my music, to see something like that.

Who were you seeing that way? Who did you look up to?

When I was a kid I looked up to Laurie Lewis, Kathy Kallick, Keith Little, Bill Evans, my dad—all these Bay Area people. There’s a really great scene there and they were all so supportive of me. But especially Laurie and Kathy, seeing them lead their own bands and play shows. They were my biggest heroes and I thought they were the coolest, and I still do.

Is it important to you to keep an eye on and try to inspire young musicians to play bluegrass in particular?

I think it’s a really great tradition, especially for kids, because it’s such a supportive community. And there are jams, so you can get together with other kids your age. That’s a really healthy thing for kids to do for fun. For me, it was really great in high school to have that, to go to festivals, and get together for jams, and play shows—that was a great outlet for me. It’s a great genre for kids to play, and it’s really important to keep carrying on the bluegrass tradition, to keep it alive, so I think it’s great to encourage kids to play it.


Photo credit: Kaitlyn Raitz

Jumping into the Deep End: A Conversation with Billy Strings

Guitar virtuoso Billy Strings (born William Apostol) is on the road somewhere between here and there, when he picks up the phone. That question “Where exactly?” gives him pause. “The other day, I couldn’t remember where I was,” he admits, a note of earnestness betraying his 25 years of age. It’s that sweet natured tendency the young have to overshare. “It took me probably at least 40 or 50 seconds just to go, ‘Oh yeah.’ I don’t know if you’ve ever felt that before, but it’s a really strange thing.” It’s the kind of problem that comes with being a popular bluegrass musician, and one he’s forever adjusting to as he zips from city to city. “We were in the van once, and I literally asked the question, ‘Is this where we are?’” he says with a laugh, knowing the existential weight of his own seemingly ordinary question.

Billy’s ever-probing mind, technical proficiency, and weighted voice all suggest a much older player. He recently released his debut LP, Turmoil & Tinfoil, recorded with Greensky Bluegrass’s producer, Glenn Brown, in the dead of Michigan’s winter. Even in that setting, it burns with a feverish heat. “It was like being snowed in, like cabin fever,” Billy says about the session, which could explain the album’s bracing pace. As much as he nods to tradition on Turmoil & Tinfoil, he also playfully stretches the bounds of bluegrass via face-melting guitar phrasing (thanks to his abiding interest in heavy metal, classic rock, the blues, and more) and socially conscious songs. Both the wounded “Living Like an Animal” and the frustrated “Dealing Despair” pry into issues of personhood and community at a time when both seem more fractured than ever. What others have termed his “authenticity,” Billy chalks up to “honesty,” and it serves, in a way, as his battle cry. He’s not afraid to keep asking questions, big or small.

Just out of curiosity, how many back-up strings do you bring on tour, given your penchant for breaking them in your wilder fits of playing?

Nowadays, I actually have three guitars onstage with me. I have two Preston Thompsons on stage, and then I have a Roy Noble on stage with me, as well. Rarely do I get to the third one anymore, but there have been times where I’ll reach for the Roy Noble.

So would you say, then, that a particularly crazy night on stage is a Roy Noble night?

Yeah, I guess so. You could.

Tradition has long been a defining force within bluegrass. How have you navigated your way through it?

I grew up playing bluegrass music and traditional bluegrass music, and I have a deep passion for that, as well, but I like all kinds of music.

Right, I know you’re a big metal fan, specifically.

Yeah, I love some death metal and some rock ‘n’ roll and blues. I like all sorts of stuff. When I was younger, I was a little bit more closed-minded about a lot of things, whether it was “Why would you want to play bluegrass but not bluegrass?” This or that, you know? But eventually I got out of that shell, and I want to get so far away from that “This is bluegrass and this ain’t” as I can. It’s just music. I’m just trying to let myself be free with music.

I think that’s something that we’re seeing a lot from the younger generation, bringing all these influences into the genre.

Definitely. I think there will always be a hint of traditional bluegrass in my shows because that’s how I learned to play guitar. My ears were trained by “How Mountain Gals Can Love” and “Blue Moon of Kentucky” — that’s the music I cut my teeth on. You’ll always hear it, I think, but I’m also going to do whatever the song calls for. I used to be embarrassed to show anybody a song that I wrote, and I’m just trying to ditch that whole mentality. Who cares if a song is that or this, or if somebody likes it or they don’t? It’s the song.

You’ve mentioned in the past that you’ve never learned anything note for note; instead, you just hear it and emulate it. What does your writing process look like, then, for original compositions?

It looks like me walking around my house with my guitar, staring at my reflection in the microwave. Pacing back and forth when nobody’s home, just scribbling on notebooks and stuff, and being on my Google Doc. I sit there with my guitar and I sing it and then, if I got something cool, I’ll write it down.

Dealing Despair” is such a powerful original song in light of how divided the country seems. Where did that come from?

I actually wrote that quite a while back. It was after another unarmed Black man was shot down by police, and I was awfully pissed off. I was shook. I’m feeling it lately, too; there’s so much going on in the world.

It feels so divided. I mean, it always has been, but more than ever it seems.

Yeah, and we should just talk about music. But I’m feeling it lately, and you’ve gotta write about what you’re feeling, and that goes back to what I was saying about letting it happen and not worrying about if people are going to like it or not because certainly some people might take that song as a little aggressive.

I know some listeners keep clamoring for artists to shut up about politics and just be artists, but bluegrass has always been a space to sort through social issues.

Well, man, that’s folk music. Look at Woody Guthrie, Bob Dylan. You have to sing about that shit. You absolutely have to. It’s kind of our duty. I’m not going to punch anybody in the face. I’m not going to carry a gun. I’m not going to fight a war. But with my guitar, I will. All I have is my songs to fight back against the ugliness that’s out there.

But that fight exists as an “either/or” these days, and it can alienate certain listeners.

I want people that are loving and not cruel to each other to come to my shows. I really don’t care what anybody thinks. I’m just doing my thing.

Turning away from politics, your father also played on this album.

Yeah, he’s on the last track [“These Memories of You”].

I thought so! The harmonies have this interesting familial tone.

What you just said is a huge compliment to me. My voice sounds the best when it’s right next to his; I can’t sing with anybody like that. My dad didn’t even know that song. He just walked right into the studio, and I wrote the lyrics on a piece of paper, and he just did it. He knows how to follow me, and I know how to follow him. My dad is a seriously heartfelt musician. When he plays a song, he really means it. He’s not just saying the words.

You learned from him when you were younger, so what was that moment like in the studio?

He was so happy to be there. It was kind of like he was a little kid. He sits around the house and plays, but he rarely goes and plays on stage anywhere — let alone in a recording studio.

And look how the tables have turned.

Those moments are what I cherish the absolute most. For instance, when I was six or seven years old, I was learning “Beaumont Rag,” and I just played the rhythm, but I kept messing it up in this one part. Right in the middle of the song, I said, “Stop. Dad, why don’t you play it and let me listen?” I listened to what he was trying to say with the guitar, and I go, “Now, let me try it again,” and I nailed it. He started laughing. He reached over his guitar and squeezed my little hand. He called my grandmother and said, “Listen to your grandson right now!” I was a little kid, but I’ll never forget that moment. Now there have been several moments since then, like when I got to introduce my dad to David Grisman in real life because my dad introduced me to David Grisman when I was seven years old. We got to sing songs all night.

That is so wild.

Yeah, it is wild because we come from a tiny little town and it’s not always been easy, and our family has had a lot of crazy stuff. Those moments are super good for me because I feel like it’s that same thing: It brings me right back to when I got the “Beaumont Rag” right. It really pushes me, and there are all sorts of reasons that I’m doing this, but that’s a huge one — because mom and dad are proud. I’m so grateful that they turned me onto this music. My childhood was a lot of bluegrass. I’m so grateful for that because I love this music.

It’s interesting, too, because it seems like listeners are, in part, gravitating toward what they keep calling your authenticity. At 25 years old, that can be a loaded statement. How have you found your own way through that kind of praise?

I don’t know. I haven’t heard that word thrown around me that much.

Maybe not to your face.

Yeah, right. When I was talking about my songwriting, I’m just trying to do my thing and just be honest. Even in life. Don’t dip your toes in the water; just jump right into the deep end. Don’t get yourself into a situation that you don’t want to be in because you know what you really want. Don’t lie to yourself. Just be yourself.

You are wise beyond your years.

I think a lot, you know?

That comes across in your playing, too.

When I’m playing, it’s easy to learn a song and go through the routine and just play it night after night. But when I go out on stage, that’s not what I do. I try to actually pour it out with my guitar, from my heart. If you listen to a lot of the people I grew up listening to — Mac Wiseman, Bill Monroe, Larry Sparks, Keith Whitley — when they’re singing, they’re not kidding. That’s why you can cry when you hear it. I love players like that. And there’s so much music out there today, you know Top 40 everything, that’s garbage.

Well, it’s too constructed, but I can see how your dad shaped you to sing from the heart.

Every time he picks up the guitar, he does that.

What a great way to learn.

I also learned a lesson from Sam Bush without him saying anything. I leaned over and took a drink of my beer — this was quite a while ago — and I looked over at Sam Bush and he had his eyes closed playing the hell out of the rhythm. It’s like, “Why do I think that I can just stop playing the song right now to take a sip of beer? Wake up, kid. You’re playing a song. What are you doing?” It’s that attitude. Whenever those dudes play, Sam Bush gives it 110 percent. Bryan Sutton was telling me the other day that Doc would never pick up his guitar and just play a little ditty or half of a song; he would always play the whole song.

Speaking of Bryan, I know you collaborated on “Salty Sheep.” How did that come about?

I think I just called him and asked him. [Laughs] It was so amazing for me. We sat a microphone in between us, and we sat in two chairs really close to each other, just facing each other. With no headphones on, we just played the tune a couple times, and holy shit.

Well, talk about Doc Watson vibes.

Well, that’s what me and him geek out on. When we go to lunch, we’re always talking about Doc Watson. We both love him so much.

So we can expect a covers album from you two soon?

I have no idea. I’m down, but you’d have to ask Bryan. He’s such a wonderful friend and mentor. He’s done this 20 years, and he’s got a lot of advice for a young guy like me. I’m so grateful for that advice. He just gives it away for free because he’s a good friend and he cares about guitar and Doc’s legacy and all that. I’m honored to have him as a friend, and completely honored to have him on the record.