In December 1953, Decca released “Plunkin’ Rag” by the Shenandoah Valley Boys. It was the first recording by a banjoist other than Earl Scruggs to use Scruggs pegs: Hubert Davis.
Born in Shelby, North Carolina, in 1932, Davis grew up in a musical family. He was already playing the banjo when, at the age of ten, his older brother, fiddler Pee Wee, brought Earl Scruggs, a co-worker from Lilly Mills, into the family home for some music. Earl had just moved to town to work at the factory. He was boarding with another Lilly Mills employee, Grady Wilkie. In Earl Scruggs and Foggy Mountain Breakdown: The Making of an American Classic author Thomas Goldsmith tells how Earl’s mother prevailed on her friend Wilkie to help Earl get a job at the mill. Wilkie, a guitarist, and Earl stowed their instruments in the car when they drove to work. In a 1977 interview, Hubert Davis told Bruce Nemerov that Pee Wee, Grady, and Earl:
…worked on the second shift. They would catch up about supper time and they’d run out to the car and get their music out and run in to the packing house. They’d play for thirty minutes or an hour and go back to work. Swaller their food whole to get more time for pickin’. And I was there, son, at suppertime every evening. I was sitting there against the wall listenin’.
By the time Hubert was fourteen (1946), he was studying Earl’s playing with Monroe on the Opry. Occasionally Earl came home, visited the Davises, and gave Hubert a banjo tutorial: “he’d show me the parts I didn’t have right.”
At fifteen Hubert began playing professionally. By 1951 he was working for Virginian Jim Eanes. In 1948 Eanes had been an original member of Flatt & Scruggs’s Foggy Mountain Boys, but was quickly hired away by Monroe. Bluegrass historian Jack Tottle tells what happened after Eanes joined Bill at the Opry:
His full baritone-range voice turned out to be incompatible with Monroe’s mountain tenor for duet singing. To Jim’s frustration, no matter how high he sang, it was still too low for Monroe’s high vocal harmony.
Eanes subsequently developed a career as a mellow country singer with a bluegrass band, recording for a small North Carolina label, Blue Ridge. Soon after Hubert joined him Jim had a hit with “Missing in Action,” a Korean war-themed country song. Ernest Tubb’s major-label cover on Decca was also a hit, giving Jim an opportunity to sign with Decca.
Eanes began recording in Nashville in 1952 with producers Paul Cohen and Owen Bradley. In October 1953, after several country-sound sessions using studio musicians, Eanes returned to record with twomembers of his bluegrass band, the Shenandoah Valley Boys: Hubert Davis and Bobby Hicks.
They made two banjo instrumentals: “Ridin’ the Waves” and “Plunkin’ Rag.” These were issued on a 78, credited not to Eanes but simply to The Shenandoah Valley Boys. In “Plunkin’ Rag” Davis used both Scruggs pegs to create the melody. Chet Atkins, playing backup guitar, is heard playing responsorial licks to the melody in its peg sections, and Bobby Hicks — this was his first recording session — contributes fiddle breaks.
“Plunkin’ Rag” was released in December. By that time Davis had left Eanes, who then advertised over the air for a banjo player. A lanky teenager named Allen Shelton got the job. At the start, Eanes said, “he could only play one tune, but he would play all the time.” An enthusiastic learner, Shelton was a fan of Davis: “he was second to Scruggs as I ever heard it.”
When the time came for Eanes’ next Decca session in Nashville, on March 2, 1954, Davis had rejoined the band. At this point, probably in February, as Davis recalled, he and Shelton met. Both later spoke of sitting up all night in a hotel room working on “some licks Scruggs was playing.”
It’s certain that one of the two banjos in that hotel room had Scruggs pegs. Some of the licks they were working on must have involved the pegs, for Davis came to Eanes’ session with two instrumentals that used them: “Cotton Picker’s Stomp” and “There’s No Place Like Home.”
“There’s No Place Like Home” was the title Decca gave to Davis’s version of “Home Sweet Home.” As with “Plunkin’ Rag,” Davis used the pegs to play the melody. But this was not a new composition, but a very old song, dating back to 1823. The novelty here, its hook, was the idea of using Scruggs pegs to play a familiar melody.
A few months later another banjo picker made a recording using Scruggs pegs. Haskel McCormick was the 16-year-old banjo picker on “Banjo Twist” by the McCormick brothers of Westmoreland, Tennessee. The track was on their first single, released in August 1954 by Hickory Records, Roy Acuff’s new Nashville label. McCormick, who would go on fill in for the hospitalized Earl with Flatt and the Foggy Mountain Boys a few times in 1956, incorporated portions of the hooks from both of Scruggs’ hits, in this, the first of three pieces he recorded that used the pegs. Here’s a brief bio of McCormick by NCTV, which opens with “Banjo Twist:”
Columbia recognized the popularity of Scruggs’ instrumentals that fall by reissuing four of them, including all three Scruggs peg-hook tunes, in their “Hall of Fame” series. While young banjo pickers like McCormick were writing new tunes with his pegs, Earl now took another direction, using one of them in his breaks for Lester’s song, “Till the End of the World Rolls Around.” Columbia released it in December 1954.
By then Allen Shelton, now in the Raleigh-based band of Hack Johnson and his Tennesseans, had elaborated on the idea of playing “Home Sweet Home” with Scruggs pegs. Early in 1955 Shelton recorded a version of “Home Sweet Home” with Johnson that included a vocal trio on the chorus. Their Colonial single was a regional hit.
This prompted Reno & Smiley, who recorded for King (a widely distributed independent label) to make a cover. Reno, traveling through North Carolina, heard the Johnson single and called King owner Syd Nathan to tell him about it. Nathan ordered him to get their band into the studio right away and record it. He couldn’t get in touch with his band members…
…so I went to the studio in Charlotte and cut it by myself. I dubbed in three vocal parts and banjo, guitar, and bass. It took me most of the night and I don’t want to cut any more like that!
The recording was a bigger hit than Johnson’s, and helped Reno & Smiley, one of the most influential early bluegrass bands — but until that point solely a recording act — launch their touring career.
Although Hubert Davis was first to record “Home Sweet Home” (as “There’s No Place Like Home”) with the pegs, it and the other instrumental he recorded with Jim Eanes didn’t get released until June 1955, after the Reno & Smiley version. By then, Shelton and Johnson had released “Swanee River,” another old familiar song with the same juxtaposition of pegs and vocal trio. Another similar piece, “Old Kentucky Home,” appeared soon after under a new band name. Hack Johnson was gone; now, with the same sound on the same label, they were The Farmhands.
In the fall of 1955, Earl Scruggs recorded his fourth and last instrumental with a peg hook. In it he reset his peg for the second-string so that it moved up to C from B. His hook riff went through two chords instead of one. “Randy Lynn Rag,” celebrating the birth of his son, was released in February 1956.
By now the idea of using the pegs to play old familiar pieces had caught on. Early in 1956 Sonny Osborne recorded four tunes using the pegs for Gateway, the Cincinnati label he’d been with since 1952: “Hand Me Down My Walking Cane,” “Jesse James,” “Swanee River,” and “Auld Lang Syne.” Accompanying him in the studio were Red Allen, guitar; Bobby Osborne, mandolin and fiddle; Art Stamper, fiddle; and Les Bodine, bass. These were the last recordings made under Sonny’s name, done just a few months before the first MGM sessions by the Osborne Brothers and Red Allen.
In May Columbia released Flatt & Scruggs’ new gospel single. Earl used the pegs to play his part of the melody in the breaks to the quartet “Joy Bells.”
It was getting radio play that summer when a letter came to Mike Seeger from Moe Asch, owner of New York’s Folkways Records, asking him “to produce an LP of Scruggs-style banjo playing.” Seeger was certain his older half-brother, Folkways star and folk banjo guru Pete Seeger, “was the reason that Moe wrote me.”
Living in the Washington-Baltimore area, Mike Seeger had been taping bluegrass shows at local country music parks. “Most bluegrass players were establishing new songs and sounds and so didn’t record the old-time tunes that they played on shows,” he said. Seeger wanted to demonstrate “the connection of the new style to the older music” so he focused on the old-time repertoire for the album.
He started recording that fall of 1956, with the help of local bluegrass musician and collector Pete Kuykendall. They began after a Monroe show at New River Ranch in Rising Sun, Maryland, where Blue Grass Boy Joe Stuart lingered backstage to play his banjo setting of an old-time fiddle tune for Seeger’s portable tape recorder. Subsequently, eight other DC region banjoists, most of them young, were recorded. A trip south captured pioneers from western North Carolina, including Earl’s older brother Junie. Earl was not on the album. Finally, one picker from New York City’s Washington Square bluegrass scene was recorded.
Seeger’s friend Ralph Rinzler, living in New York at the time, wrote the album notes. Here for the first time the word “bluegrass” was used in print to describe and explain the music. American Banjo Three-Finger and Scruggs Style, the first bluegrass LP, had a total of 31 tracks by fifteen banjoists. Scruggs pegs are heard on two cuts.
On side B, band 3, Smiley Hobbs, a North Carolinian virtuoso living in northern Virginia, used the pegs to play the melody of the old folksong “Rosewood Casket” in a vocal-instrumental combination similar to Shelton’s.
The very last track on side B featured the Washington Square picker, seventeen-year-old New Yorker Eric Weissberg. Backed by Seeger on guitar and Rinzler on mandolin, he played a two-song medley, combining the tunes of the traditional ballad “Jesse James” and folk revival star Woody Guthrie’s popular composition “Hard Ain’t It Hard.” He used the pegs on the latter piece, which the Weavers, the most popular folk revival group at the time, had recently popularized. Weissberg’s mix of traditional and folk revival repertoire was a harbinger.
In the next Bluegrass Memoir, more on Eric Weissberg.
Guitarist and singer/songwriter Sunny War doesn’t necessarily miss performing live, in-person shows — she’s not even sure she ever really liked playing shows that much in the “before COVID-19” times at all. But, as she connects with BGS over the phone in preparation for another pandemic-tailored event, her Shout & Shine livestream show on Wednesday, September 16 (live on BGS, Facebook, and YouTube at 7pm ET / 4pm PT) her general feelings regarding the pandemic and its far-reaching impact on the music industry are very clear: It’s all just really weird.
She, like many creators in the March-and-April maelstrom that swallowed up any/all meaningful work for an interminable period of time, became depressed, distant, and took some time to work her way back into a creative mode that feels respondent to our harsh everyday without being bogged down in it. A punk-influenced and inflected lyricist, she’s once again turning to her songwriting pen as an outlet.
While her peers turn to that same outlet to process many of the myriad daily tragedies and injustices we’re all so attuned to in this global moment, War instead pauses. “I kinda don’t like protest songs from people who didn’t do it before,” she explains, calling to task the frantic and frenzied rush to pivot records, releases, and pressers into more “appropriate,” digestible bits for a newly awakened, activist reality — and consumer.
But War’s identity, her selfhood, as evidenced through every note of her idiosyncratically finger-plucked songs and through her carefully chosen words in her lyrical poetry and our conversation, calls upon her to challenge that propriety. “[Democracy] actually is working” she explains, noting hypocrisy and/or tone deafness in our roots music communities. “It’s working, it’s always been working. It just hasn’t ever been in our favor.”
BGS: I’m a banjo player, I came up through bluegrass, and there’s something about your right hand in your guitar playing that’s really entrancing and relatable to me. It conjures bluegrass and fingerstyle, but it is so unique to you, it’s idiosyncratic. Where did your style come from? What influenced your right hand technique, how did it develop?
SW: I think it came from mimicking banjo, actually. My stepdad’s friend played banjo, so I was around a banjo player sometimes growing up. The first fingerpicking thing I learned was “Blackbird” by the Beatles and that was the first time I thought I sounded kinda good. When I was a kid, I thought, “Wow! This [fingerpicking] sounds way better than just strumming a chord.” I never really learned a lot of chords, I still just play a lot of chords in first position. I was just playing C and G and D open and I thought, “Well now I sound like I’m really playing something.”
I didn’t listen to blues until I was in high school and then I was kind of imitating country, blues, and my stepdad’s friend on banjo. Later, I was trying to be like Mississippi John Hurt; and I kinda wanted to be like Chet Atkins. But I couldn’t ever figure that out.
I see plenty of folks in the scene who idolize Derek Trucks or Joe Bonamassa or even Molly Tuttle and Billy Strings who are coming up. There are these guitar fans that just idolize and adore them. Have you seen guitar fans trying to capture what you’re doing with your playing?
Not really? I don’t know. There are some people on Facebook and Instagram who message [me] and want to talk about my guitar style, but they’re usually just into old-timey blues stuff. Then we just talk about that. Sometimes they ask who I listen to. But I think [the implication is], “You’re really close to maybe being like this person I know of.”
I can think of a lot of shredders out there, but I do the same kind of riffs in every key that I play in. I feel like I can say I really do fingerpick well, but I know people that really do it and can play as well with their left hand as their right. I’m not quite there. [Laughs]
It’s hard to talk about music and performing right now without acknowledging the giant, COVID-19 elephant in the room. It’s interesting to me that this moment of pausing, of stopping everything, especially in the music industry, has given artists a chance to refocus or realign their priorities – have you been thinking about the future? Thinking about the present? How has the pandemic felt to you?
The first three months I was just depressed and drinking a lot and not doing anything. Then recently, I’ve been trying to write. I’ve been jamming with my friend Milo, who plays a lot of lead guitar on two of my albums, and we’re going to make some demos together. I’ve also been thinking about going to school, trying to get into some kind of two-year program. Since music might not [come back], there might not be live music for two more years. I’m thinking about getting a job. [Laughs]
It’s daunting to wake up every day like, “I’m going to keep doing this now, because I believe — I think — it’s going to happen in the future.” It’s a lot!
Yeah, it’s like, “Maybe music is just not essential…” You know? [Sad chuckle]
Then, with the whole Zoom thing and the livestream thing, I’m just not really into it. I’m not enjoying it at all, it feels weird. It’s just like, sitting in a room by yourself, trying to make a video, and then you think, “Should I look into the camera? Should there be talking in between?” You’re trying to imitate a set at a venue, but you’re just sitting by yourself. It just feels weird! I would rather just play by myself, without a camera.
I liked playing shows [before] kind of, but I almost didn’t even like that. At least it felt like there was a reason for doing it. I was talking to my mom and we both realized we used to watch concerts before, too. Just then it was an actual concert on film. Even that would be better! If there were somehow an audience in the livestream… I guess that can’t be, but it’s just awkward [without them.] Seeing a band play off of the energy of the room is more what it’s about.
Well, for your Shout & Shine livestream performance we’ll have to ask our audience to be “loud” in the comments! Use that clapping hands emoji! [Laughs] Who would you like to see as a guest on Shout & Shine? Whose music is inspiring you right now and getting you through the day-to-day?
Have you heard of Yes Ma’am? They’re from New Orleans – the singer sometimes plays solo, but also has a band. They used to busk on the street in New Orleans. It’s just really good, a great kinda folky string band.
I like the new Run The Jewels album. I listen to Elliott Smith still, and a lot of ‘90s music. I like Black Pumas a lot.
What would you like to see from the music community, as far as a response to this moment in our culture’s history — not only the racial injustice and righteous rebellions against police brutality, but also how divided and polarized our musical community is now. It’s like half people who want music to “remain apolitical” and half folks who are like, “Music has always been political, where the fuck have you been all along?” What do you see as the urgent need of our community to reconcile all of this? I know that’s a huge question.
I think it just needs to become about honesty again. That’s something I would like to see. I’m not really that into “Americana” music, but even so I feel like [Americana] musicians are going to be faced with not being able to let these issues go unaddressed anymore. I think that’s interesting. At this point, you can’t just put out your weird corny love song that’s not even about anything that happened in your life, but is actually just something that makes sense pop-wise and hit-wise. You should have to really be honest. People don’t necessarily have to be “political,” they can just write about all the emotions they’re going through. We’re all dealing with the pandemic and with Trump and with police brutality — it’s a lot. Even if people don’t want to write a song about why we should get rid of the police, they could at least write about how scared they are. I don’t know, there’s a different, new kind of folk that could happen about just being freaked out and unsure of your future. I love shit like that.
I kinda don’t like protest songs from people who didn’t do it before. It’s just not hitting right. I don’t want your protest music if you weren’t writing it before. Whatever issue is being highlighted, it’s always like, “Yeah, we’ve BEEN talking about that.” [Expectant pause] This has been the conversation. I’m into punk, I’ve always liked protest music. As far as folk, I do like its protest music, but I mostly like punk or really politically-charged hip-hop. It’s kind of annoying when say, a really poppy country person who’s never said anything about anything is writing a protest song. It’s just cashing in. It’s corny. It’s weird.
And another thing, a lot of people who are going out to these Black Lives Matter protests and stuff, I still don’t feel like they would treat me any differently than they normally would. I saw people posing and taking pictures. This is a weird thing to just be a trend.
Like Breonna Taylor now being a meme.
Yeah. It’s offensive, it’s too much.
And how many times they show those videos [of Black people being murdered by police]. There’s a lot of murder porn going around! People are saying one thing, but showing someone die every day. I was kind of like, “You know, I don’t think they would show a video of a white person being killed, over and over again.” A lot of things happening right now are really dehumanizing and I don’t think people can see it unless they really, really think about it. Or maybe put themselves in that position. It’s murder porn.
I know what happened. I don’t want to see this over and over again. I don’t need to physically see it to be angry about it. Think of all the bad this is doing to our psyches on top of everything else, seeing people murdered every day.
But, a lot of musicians are “activists” now, I guess. I just… don’t really know what that means. They were going to put out a song anyway. That’s what they do for a living. Obviously they can’t just put out the typical love song — that’s what people always write about, love. That would be “offensive.” Or, it wouldn’t be “appropriate.” So they all have to change and pretend to be “activists.” It’s just a reflection of what’s trending right now.
I just want to know: Are they actually going to change in a year? I’m curious to know how long the Black Lives Matter profile pictures are going to stay up.
Artist:Tommy Emmanuel Hometown: Muswellbrook, New South Wales, Australia + currently resides in San Jose, California Song: “Luttrell” Album:The Best of Tommysongs Release Date: May 8, 2020 Label: CGP Sounds/Cruzen Street Records
In Their Words: “Luttrell is a town in East Tennessee where my childhood hero, Chet Atkins, was born and raised. I took a trip out there, and I stood at the very spot where his house used to be, and I wrote this song. All my life, his love and encouragement has meant so much to me. He was a true friend, a great man, and one of the most important pioneers in the history of guitar playing.” — Tommy Emmanuel
Artist:Mandy Barnett Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee Song: “The End of the World” Label: Melody Place Records
In Their Words: “We were already in the studio with an incredible 60-piece orchestra recording a torch songs album that will be released in 2020. After viewing Ken Burns’ Country Music documentary, we were inspired to add this beautiful song, which was originally produced by Chet Atkins for Skeeter Davis, to our recording schedule. Skeeter was always so kind to me and appreciated my being a new-generation torchbearer for classic country music. Fred Mollin did a stellar job producing it, and I’d like to extend a big ‘thank you’ to Ken Burns for giving this music a new platform!” — Mandy Barnett
In public radio and podcast fandom Jad Abumrad’s voice is not only immediately recognizable, it’s iconic. As a host of WNYC’s hit show, Radiolab, Abumrad has explored myriad topics ranging from secret World War II missions to the social and cultural impacts of contagious diseases. He has a knack for storytelling, uncovering and contextualizing minute details that many other writers and journalists may have simply shrugged at or glossed over.
This instinct, a sixth sense that guides him to these subtle nuances that often rest undisturbed just below the surface or hide in plain sight, is focused on a new subject in his brand-new podcast (also produced and distributed by WNYC), Dolly Parton’s America. The nine-part series lives up to the oft-invoked, seldom accurate characterization of “a deep dive,” covering ground that even the most ardent Dolly experts and fans may have never trod.
A self-described “new initiate” of country music, Abumrad grew up in Nashville, but given Dolly’s standing as an almost omnipresent cultural touchstone he realized much later that during those Tennessee years he almost couldn’t see the Dolly Parton forest for the Dolly Parton trees. “I knew her music, in terms of the crossover stuff — ‘9 to 5’ and ‘Islands in the Stream,’” he admits. “But the first place I started was going back to ‘60s Dolly and ‘70s Dolly. That’s a very different Dolly.”
Though what he found in those early decades of her career was often unexpected, it was never truly shocking or surprising, especially given the pop culture monolith that Parton has become since those years. A monolith that Abumrad describes as being able to bring people together across all manner of divides — something particularly remarkable in this current global moment.
“You see these stories emerge of not only her changing over time, but what was happening around her in the south, in Appalachia, and in America,” he continues. “The early Dolly music and lyrics became almost like a portal that I could step through to talk about history, to talk about politics, to talk about culture, to talk about feminism. It’s all there in her music.”
And so, it’s all in the podcast. In the two already released episodes Abumrad et. al. cover topics as broad and varied as Dolly’s constantly being undervalued as a songwriter, her being “typecast” as a secondary character (a “dumb blonde”), her shift from the sad, forlorn songs of her early career to her jubilant, encouraging anthems later on, and even her own struggles with suicidal ideation.
With such an entity as Parton, a bystander might assume that any approach to unspooling the many tendrils of her vastly variable and dynamic career would be insufficient, myopic, and/or excruciatingly intimidating. Abumrad faces this daunting task with aplomb, acknowledging the many ways such a project can go awry, but not allowing that acknowledgment to dissuade him. Rather than shy away from storytelling that might open him and the podcast up to criticism about omissions or oversights or missteps, he leans into the humanity that allows for those scenarios. “This is a project where I was trying to see Dolly through other people’s eyes, so that I could understand them and understand their lives and their experiences… I wanted to understand Dolly not simply as a performer and an icon, but as somebody who’s created all this culture… Why do they love it? What do they see in it? What is it about it that calls them? I felt like that was a way to understand the country at this moment.”
BGS editor and contributor Justin Hiltner spoke to Abumrad on the phone about Dolly Parton’s America; the two took turns picking their favorite Dolly tracks, as if standing in front of a Dolly-only jukebox in a Dolly-themed dive bar.
JH: If you and I were standing in front of a jukebox full of Dolly Parton songs what would be your “pick” if you were asked to play Dolly Parton for a room full of people? What would be the first song you would think of?
JA: I think [with] any jukebox selection you have to disclaim: There’s no way to be comprehensive, so any selection you make is going to be one tiny sliver of a tremendous catalog of thousands and thousands of songs.
But, I think the first one I’m going to have to pick is “Muleskinner Blues.” I think it was 1970? I think that’s right. 1970. I would play this one because that song is just… it is pure fire. The rhythm section is so badass and her on top of it, you just cannot — you have to move when you hear it. And I say this as somebody who didn’t grow up with this genre. I grew up in a house full of opera and bad hair metal. Country music was not my jam. But this is one of the first songs that when I heard it I was like, “Oh my god. This SONG.”
The moment that she ad-libs, “I’m a lady muleskinner–”
Oh my god, it’s so good.
It’s so good! And I think about it all the time. When we talk about bluegrass, [people like to say,] “Oh, you know, we don’t have that many women forebears, we don’t have many [women] to point to.” I hear that [ad-lib] and I hear her telling the history of women in roots music and American music. “I’m a lady muleskinner” is like, “I’m not just singing this song that’s always been sung by men, this song is MINE now.” I love that.
Let me follow that inspiration, because one of the things that I think about that song is where it falls in her history. She was on the Porter Wagoner show, right? She’s this crazy prolific songwriter, but she’s kind of under the thumb of this guy, who’s a legend and an amazing hitmaker in his own right, but he was kind of holding her back. At that point she’s starting to bristle. We talked to a bunch of people… I think of them as “Dolly-ologists,” these new academics who think about Dolly a lot, before this song it was a lot of sad songs, often sung from the perspectives of little girls, about something that had been done wrong to them. This is the first song that she grabs her power, in some way.
When she holds that first note she holds it as long as she wants and the band has to follow her. So she’s like, “Y’all gonna follow me.” Then as soon as she lets go the band follows her. It’s literally her taking charge of the band. You feel that power, you feel that energy. It’s such a good song. I’ve been listening to it non-stop.
I think my first jukebox pick, what might be my favorite Dolly cut ever, is “Do I Ever Cross Your Mind” with Chet Atkins. Have you heard this?
Yeah!
It’s just two guitars, it’s just them. They’re kind of conversing while they play. There’s this subtle moment where Chet makes a joke like, “Why don’t you pick one, Dolly?” Then he continues to pick a solo and Dolly laughs like, “That’s not me, that’s not me!” But there’s this sort of respect in his voice, where he’s telling the listeners that she’s a picker. Like, “Don’t forget, don’t sleep on Dolly Parton. She can play guitar!” She’s the real deal.
They mix up the words at one point, they aren’t singing the right harmonies together. Then at the end, they’re just laughing together, and Dolly sighs, “Oh, I love you Chet.” He’s like, “Oh, I love you Dolly.” I think it’s my all-time favorite Dolly Parton recording ever. And for a song that she’s re-recorded so many times, to hear it pared down like that — definitely my number one pick.
Wow. That’s awesome.
What’s another one for you?
Let’s see, I’m really zoned in on ‘70s Dolly right now. I hope you don’t mind that most of my picks are going to be in that era.
Nothing wrong with that!
I just love the moment that her songs go kinda funky and percussive. I’ve always been less of a lyric guy and more of a music/tambour kind of guy. I love from “Jolene” on when she starts adding different instrumentations to her songs.
I have a couple of picks here… let’s go with “Joshua.” Again, it’s a song she did right after “Muleskinner” and I feel like that’s the moment when she truly becomes [a star] — if you want to look at her ascent to global superstardom, I think it begins in those few years and “Joshua” was her first number one. I just love the production of the song, I love how her voice was recorded, it’s a little bit distorted. I love how all the instruments are panned hard left or right. The rhythm guitar is over on the right and Dolly’s voice is on the left — or maybe it’s vice versa. I love the whole ‘70s production of it.
It’s such a weird story! It’s [about] an orphan girl meeting a crazy old man living by himself in the woods and they fall in love. There’s something kind of offbeat and oddball, but also kind of poetic about it. When it modulates, it goes up a semitone, like somewhere in the middle. It’s just cookin’. I love it.
My next pick, and really this is hard, I would probably pick something off of The Grass is Blue. And I think that my favorite one is “Train, Train.” I mean, you can’t be upset at a bluegrass song about a train, for one, but also that album means so much to me. You have this woman who has conquered every genre, has hits on so many different charts, and for her to come back to bluegrass — and I always make sure to emphasize the “back” to bluegrass because she’s been based in this. Her music since day one has been bluegrass music, the mountain music, as she calls it.
And the band on that record, the band that she toured with doing promo for that record, they were ridiculous! Chris Thile was in the band, if Chris Thile wasn’t, Sam Bush was. Jim Mills — it’s everybody. Jerry Douglas. This stacked roster of bluegrass pickers and then she takes that band to like, the CMA awards. To see bluegrass in primetime, in the mainstream like that always means so much to those of us who have always loved bluegrass first and foremost. I keep beating the drum of, “Induct Dolly Parton into the Bluegrass Hall of Fame! Induct Dolly Parton into the Bluegrass Hall of Fame!” I think it’s a no-brainer, and “Train, Train” is the perfect distillation of that for me.
Totally! You know, it’s interesting, what I remember is being in the UK — we went to the UK to shadow her for the premiere of 9 to 5 the musical — and on the way to the show I had to be in the car [with her] posse from the Dollywood Foundation and the Imagination Library, like David Dotson and some of these folks. They all were echoing basically what you just said. That album, more than any other album of hers, is most meaningful to the people around her. I think a lot of people feel like you feel. I don’t want to say it was one of her less successful [records], but it didn’t have the crazy crossover [appeal.] That album meant a lot to a lot of people.
Do you have another one? Maybe to close us out? One more for you, one more for me.
Sure, let’s see. I’ll give you a choice and you can tell me which one will be more interesting. “Love is Like a Butterfly” or “He’s Alive.”
Oh shoot, do both.
Okay, I’ll do both in one shot. So, “He’s Alive” is not the kind of song I’d ordinarily choose to put on, as a — I’ll be completely transparent — godless liberal. I come from a country that was torn apart by religion and my parents are scientists, so when we came from Lebanon my parents were like, “Don’t you damn set foot in a church!” [Laughs]
The first time I heard “He’s Alive” I got goosebumps. I hadn’t been that moved by a song in a long time. We were driving from Knoxville to Dollywood, actually, with one of Dolly’s biggest fans, and she put that song on for us. It was crazy, driving through the hills seeing signs like “Jesus saves you” and “Jesus loves you.” Then that song comes on and, as you know, the first few minutes are kind of a little bit overblown and orchestral and there’s this bombast going on, but when the chorus and the gospel chorus come in? Oh my god. That is more intense than any techno DJ drop. We were all just pinned to our seats for that. It feels like she’s alive, right? [Laughs]
I played it for my wife and my family the other day and they were like, “You like this?” But when it gets to the chorus they were like, “Oh, I get it.”
I’ll throw in “Love is Like a Butterfly” because when she had a string of number ones going from Dolly the “girl singer” to being Dolly the superstar, that was one [important song.] I don’t know, there’s something about her voice on that song. She’s describing this almost trance of love, she’s in love with someone and she’s weightless and entranced the way a butterfly is in the wind. The song isn’t as poetic as some of her others, but there’s something in the way she sings it that I just feel what she’s describing without even hearing the words. Something about her voice that is so… it literally flies. It’s like a butterfly. Her voice captures that. I’m so mystified by her voice on that recording.
I think my last choice would be, “Why’d You Come in Here Lookin’ Like That,” not only because it’s just a really good jukebox song — it is a perfect rollicking country song for a night at the dive bar. But also I realized — I’m openly gay, I’m a career banjo player who happens to moonlight (during the day) as a music writer, and so I went through this whole dynamic [when I was younger] of discovering my sexuality after I had already been in this music for my whole life. I realized, “Oh wait, I don’t think I belong here. I don’t think this space is for me. I play banjo, I love bluegrass.”
Something that I really appreciate about Dolly, from long ago, before I even knew she was a queer icon — and rightly so! — I could project my queerness onto and into her art and see myself in it. There’s something about “Why’d You Come in Here Lookin’ Like That” that’s just like, “Why does this straight man have to come up in my business and remind me that he’s unavailable to me?” That’s what I hear listening to that song, and it’s funny that I could go down a list of like ten other Dolly songs that feel like that to me. That feel like the queer experience realized through Dolly’s lens.
That’s really interesting… how so many of her songs create that space, so you can read it that way. I love that you have a list that goes beyond that. I might have to call you back and ask you to elaborate on that. [Laughs]
It was something that I really didn’t want to have this conversation happen without mentioning. I mean, even if you don’t count the rhinestones and the false nails and the big boobs, and everything. Boiled down to just nuts and bolts, and thinking of her as just a songwriter, she’s still allowing space for people to see their own experiences in her music. That’s not a very common thing in country. It is because heartbreak is all through country and everybody’s heart gets broken all the time, but other than that it really takes that sort of [approach] — well, what you’re talking about through this whole entire project. She touches on all of these issues that are sort of endemic to our culture, in a way that’s so organic that we ingest them almost without realizing it until now, in retrospect, I look back thinking, “Well of course she’s a queer icon, she’s creating space for us to relate to her music.” Even if it’s coming from such a specific place.
She, as a songwriter like you say, has created that space. Even without having to look at the persona in any way.
She still has not gotten her due as a songwriter, and it’s painful at times. To see that be such a big part of what you’re doing [is important.]
Yeah, I appreciate that, that’s where we start the series is taking her seriously as a songwriter, cause I agree. Robert Oermann said in one of our episodes that if she had been born two hundred years ago she’d be Mozart. (I think maybe he means more than two hundred.) Because she’s that touched by that creative spirit. That’s never been acknowledged. Bob Dylan gets it, Johnny Cash gets it, but she hasn’t.
Photo of Jad Abumrad: Bo Jacober Illustration: Christine de Carvalho
American roots music wouldn’t exist without Indigenous people. Full stop.
Just as Black voices and stories largely informed the creation of these genres of music — old-time, bluegrass, blues, Americana, folk, etc. — Indigenous voices and stories often informed those black creators as well as those of greater privilege and power. Erasure prevents many examples of these cross-pollinations and accurate attributions from being readily accessible today, but Indigenous people are still here. They continually carve out spaces for themselves in these circles and these communities that directly spawned from them, though they continue to exclude Natives today.
Even as conversations surrounding diversity, equity, and inclusion permeate the furthest reaches of roots music communities around the world, Indigenous identities and perspectives are still routinely left in the shadows.
We can do better.
Part of “doing better” is making a concerted effort, whenever we are able, to expand our perspectives to include as many Indigenous people and their vantage points as possible. So, let’s return to the idea that American roots music was created by Indigenous people. Such as it is, if one is a roots music fan, it’s quite easy to infuse one’s day-to-day with Indigenous folks, as evidenced by the following list of Indigenous artists, performers, instrumentalists, and musicians that you NEED to be listening to.
Cary Morin
An award-winning, renowned blues guitarist Cary Morin is a Crow tribal member who has performed around the globe. “…I could say that I’m really the only finger-style Crow guy on the entire planet,” he told BGS in a 2017 interview. “That’s unique. But we all can say that, to some degree. We all have unique things that make us who we are…” He counts David Bromberg, Norman Blake, Tony Rice, and Trey Anastasio among his influences, but his sound is truly uniquely his.
Lakota John
Lakota John (Locklear) opened his set at our 2019 iteration of Shout & Shine at IBMA with a land acknowledgment and a captivating piece on Native American flute. His music nimbly toggles between old-time blues, modern acoustic blues, folk, down home country and more, while remaining firmly rooted in and informed by his Lumbee and Lakota heritage. We interviewed Lakota John just last month, in anticipation of Shout & Shine.
R. Carlos Nakai
Possibly the world’s foremost performer on Native American flute, R. Carlos Nakai began his career in music trained in classical trumpet. He’s received eleven Grammy nominations and his iconic album, Canyon Trilogy, went platinum, becoming the first album by a solo Native American flutist to ever do so.
Lula Wiles
Folk trio Lula Wiles cover a lot of the same ground as their millennial-aged string band and Americana counterparts, but with the grounding, legitimizing force of Indigenous perspective, brought to the group by bassist Mali Obomsawin, a member of the Abenaki Nation. Obomsawin and bandmates Isa Burke and Ellie Buckland spoke to BGS about Indigenous rights and the group’s approach to writing socially conscious material earlier this year.
Celeigh Cardinal
Z. Lupetin, host of BGS podcast The Show On The Road, called Métis musician Celeigh Cardinal “the high priestess of Canadiana soul” in a February episode. Cardinal is also the first Indigenous radio personality on Alberta’s CKUA Radio Network. “The Devil is a Blue-Eyed Man” is the lead track off of her most recent album, Stories From a Downtown Apartment.
Jeremy Dutcher
A classically-trained, Canadian, Indigenous tenor, Jeremy Dutcher creates sweeping, cinematic art-folk with pop twinges, jazz undertones, and often lofty, operatic melodies. Perhaps the most striking aspect of Dutcher’s music, however, is his overt presentation of the fact that its intended audience is first and foremost his people, the Wolastoqiyik. His representations of queerness are firmly rooted in the traditions of his tribe and his language — he is one of only around 100 people who speak Wolastoq — which has no gendered pronouns.
Buffy Sainte-Marie
Academy Award-winning singer-songwriter Buffy Sainte-Marie has been touring and performing professionally since the early ’60s. Her accolades, awards, and accomplishments are vast and varied, touching almost every nook and cranny of this content in almost every medium — and as an activist, as well. In 2015 the Americana Music Association and the First Amendment Center awarded Sainte-Marie the Spirit of Americana Free Speech in Music Award.
Raye Zaragoza
Singer/songwriter Raye Zaragoza has a message to deliver through all of her music. “In the River” was written during the violence at the Standing Rock Sioux reservation protests over the Dakota Access Pipeline being constructed across Indigenous lands and sacred waters. Zaragoza explains in an interview with Billboard in 2018, “Being a young, brown girl who on one side of my family is immigrant (Mexican, Japanese, and Taiwanese), the other indigenous, I can help [but put] a voice and put words to the way so many people are feeling…”
Charly Lowry
In 2004 singer/songwriter Charly Lowry was a semi-finalist on American Idol, but over the past decade she rose to prominence with Dark Water Rising, a North Carolina-based, soulful blues band of Indigenous folks. Her solo music is entrancing and expansive, with an ethereal quality only matched by the conviction with which she sings. This performance of “Brownskin” is a perfect example.
Led Kaapana
Grammy nominee and Native Hawaiian Led Kaapana is one of the world’s foremost experts in slack key guitar, or Kī Hō’alu, for which a guitar’s strings are detuned (til “slack”) to an open chord. His playing reminds of Chet Atkins and Phil Keaggy and references blues, ragtime, and even bluegrass flatpicking at times, too — which makes sense considering he’s worked and collaborated with Chet Atkins himself, and folks like Dolly Parton, Jerry Douglas, and Alison Krauss, too.
To wrap up we should note, this is an infinitesimal, inherently myopic attempt at a cross-section of Indigenous artists in American roots music spaces. There are so so so so many more to discover. You should poke around the Native American Music Awards website for more ideas, and a historical/archival look, too.
Photo of Celeigh Cardinal: Megan Kemshead Photography
One of Nashville’s good guys, Steve Wariner will be inducted into the Musician’s Hall of Fame in Nashville this month, recognizing his versatility as a lead guitarist and as a hired hand for legends like Chet Atkins, Bob Luman, and Dottie West. He’s also been a Grand Ole Opry member since 1996, although the Indiana native’s been performing there long before receiving that honor, both as a solo artist and a sideman.
From drinking songs like “Longneck Bottle” (recorded by Garth Brooks) to weepers like “The Weekend,” Wariner’s chameleon-like ability certainly has something to do with his long career in country music. With four decades of charting singles starting in the 1970s, he has plenty of material to pull from on his Back on Life’s Highway Tour, which makes five stops in Texas within the next few weeks.
A gracious host whose collection of vintage guitars and studio gear is constantly growing, Wariner invited BGS to his home studio near Franklin, Tennessee, to reflect on a satisfying and eclectic career.
BGS: I was curious to ask you, do you think you have a signature hit?
SW: I would probably say “Holes in the Floor of Heaven,” if there was such a thing for me. I get asked about that one the most — probably that or “The Weekend.” I don’t know, I may not have a signature song, you know? A lot of artists do, they have that one. My problem is, I hopped around so much. I’d do something where somebody would cry, and then the next time I’m doing a guitar thing. Then I’d turn around and do a real country thing. And then I would do pop, like “I Got Dreams.” I never could settle on something. I always told people that would be a curse for me.
…Therefore, I don’t know if I do have a signature. With “Holes in the Floor of Heaven,” I’ve never had a song that had that impact for me, just immediately. I couldn’t even count how many letters and emails… if I could count how many times I’ve listened to people’s stories and their loss… and I don’t mind it. “The Weekend” is one that people ask about all the time, too. At shows, I cannot get away without doing “The Weekend” or “Some Fools Never Learn.”
Do you think there’s a common thread that runs through what you have recorded?
Probably not, other than I’ve tried to keep a real level of integrity, you know? I was taught early on to pick great songs if you can and try to let it always be about the song, always, and let the song always win. I was told once years ago, “Don’t cut a song unless you absolutely love it.” Because if you’re lucky enough that it could be a hit, you’ll be singing that thing the rest of your life.
This plays into the Musician’s Hall of Fame, and maybe my guitar might be the common thread. Because throughout it all, except the very early records, I didn’t play on some of those records on my own guitar. I would sit and watch other players play, and I’m thinking, “I want to be playing on my own record,” the solos anyway.
And I’ll give credit to my friend, [studio guitarist] Paul Yandell, who brought me to Chet. He went to [Wariner’s second producer] Tom Collins, and in his defense, Tom just knew me as a singer. And I wrote a little bit, too, but he didn’t know that I was a guitar player, too. Paul went to him and said, “You ought to get Steve to play on this solo.” And I think it was on “Kansas City Lights.” I always loved that about Paul, because that’s something that probably cost him a lot of work, by him saying that. Because all of a sudden I was playing on my own records from then on.
What do you remember about writing “Baby I’m Yours” with Guy Clark?
Guy Clark was amazing. I loved hanging with him. And I got to know him at that point, I got to know him really well, and then we hung out some. … We bonded and were very close after that. The main thing I remember about that day is, there was a restaurant down on Division and we went there and ate. I remember sitting there thinking, “Damn, I’m writing with Guy Clark, this is awesome.” I tried not to let him see that, but he was kind, and really open, very open.
I remember that song being more R&B, more funky, more Guy Clark. And then by the time it got to the studio… I don’t mean this in a negative way, but by the time I got with [producer Jimmy] Bowen, and all the other players in the studio, it turned into what the record is, which I’m not arguing – it’s a No. 1 record, or I think it was, or whatever it turned out to be. But it totally doesn’t sound like a Guy Clark record.
I mean if you heard the demo… which I don’t have a copy. Damn it, I wish I did. A lot of my songs I do have the work tape and it’s hilarious to go, “That’s that song? Wow.” “Longneck Bottle” is that way. If you heard my demo, you’d go, “This don’t even sound like it,” and that’s the way with “Baby I’m Yours.” The way we did it originally really sounds like a Texas thing, a Guy Clark kind of thing, and more of an R&B songwriter thing.
We talked about the span of your career, but when people look back on the ’80s and ’90s in country music, what do you hope that they remember about you, and the music that you made?
That’s a great question. I hear it a lot, “He’s a nice guy.” When I see Vince Gill, he would come up and go, “I’m the nicest guy.” And I’d go, “Dammit, no, I’m the nicest guy.” We’d get in a fistfight over it. But I don’t know, I’d like to be known as a … it makes me smile when people mention a triple threat – that I’m a guitar player, writer, and a singer. I think musicianship always means a lot for me, and I want to be taken seriously as a writer.
So I don’t know, probably those things. That stuff, I’m leaving it up to whatever somebody thinks, that’s up to them. But I guess you just want to be respected more than anything. … I always fall back to Chet. People probably get tired of hearing me talking about Chet Atkins, but he was such an important figure in my life and my career. But I watched him, and it was just his integrity. Everything he did was impeccable, and he had such great taste. And it was really respect.
The first time I recorded with him in Studio A, my first record — I love this — he had a suit and tie on, and it was like the old days: a black suit with a little white shirt and black tie. It was like going to the office, you know? When he walked into Studio A with charts in his hand, all the players got up from their posts and followed him like the pied piper over to the piano. And they all knelt down and got around him, and Chet stood in the middle. That’s not even thought of in a session these days. That’s not even close to that. I know times move on, but I’m so glad I was in the middle of that for a little bit anyway.
I guess where I was going was, I watched the way people revered Chet, and the way he was so respected. They hung on every word he was saying and his vision of, “Here’s what we’re going to do, we’re going to make this record,” and I love that. It was so good watching that. And I think respect is the main thing, just respect for what you do. Hopefully people would say that I made really good records, you know?
Why mess with a classic? That was the original thought from a few members of Nitty Gritty Dirt Band when the idea was presented to record a sequel to their seminal 1972 album, Will the Circle Be Unbroken.
However, with encouragement from one of the group’s biggest fans, the legendary June Carter Cash, the recording sessions for Will the Circle Be Unbroken, Volume Two commenced in the winter of 1988, with a cast of accomplished musicians who are now considered cornerstones of Americana music.
Often referred to simply as Circle 2, the acclaimed project was released in 1989 and went on to win three Grammy Awards and a CMA Award for Album of the Year. To commemorate its 30th anniversary, Jeff Hanna shares its back story with the Bluegrass Situation.
Editor’s Note: Jeff Hanna and guest Sam Bush will participate in a screening of clips from a documentary film, The Making ofWill the Circle Be Unbroken, Volume Two, at the Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum in Nashville on Wednesday, September 11 at 11 a.m., during AmericanaFest.
BGS: Can you explain why Circle 2 is such an important album for the band?
Hanna: It’s important in our history because at that point, we were no longer just the kids. We were all in our early 20s when we did the first Circle record, making music with those revered folks. And so we had a different point of view, somewhat. Here we were in the midst of our mainstream country career, and we still revered the first album.
The way we viewed Circle 1 was like something untouchable – just leave it. It is what it is. As time went on and as that project matured, it mattered a lot to a lot of people, including us. So we resisted the concept of doing another Circle record. Especially me, Jimmy Ibbotson, and Jimmie Fadden. Bob Carpenter was like, “I didn’t get to play on the first one! I wasn’t in the band! I want to do it!” He was pretty excited about the concept, and Chuck Morris, our manager at the time, brought it up a bunch. But we waited a while, and by the time it came out, it was 17 years between the releases.
When did you decide to move forward with it?
We were on tour with the Johnny Cash show, which included the Carter Family, and we were in Europe. I think it was in 1988 in Switzerland. June came into our dressing room — and she would visit us a lot. She was really sweet and she loved to talk about Mother Maybelle, and how much she loved us. She called us “them dirty boys.” I love that. And at the end of the conversation, she said, “You know, if you all ever thought about doing another Circle record, John and I would really love to take part in it.”
That was the tipping point. If you have that sort of endorsement from folks we idolized, and who were so important in the history of this music – and music in general — we thought, “Well, there you go.” That’s what we did. The winter of ’88, we started making calls.
How did you come up with the guest list, so to speak, for this one?
Our approach was to delve more into the next generation of folks, like New Grass Revival, and certainly a lot of our singer-songwriter buddies, like Bruce Hornsby, John Hiatt, Rosanne Cash, and John Prine. We had only recorded a little bit with Emmylou Harris and we really wanted to work with her. And we were really excited to do a record with Levon Helm. That was one of the highlights.
I think the collaborative spirit of this album really shines through when Bruce Hornsby is playing “Valley Road” with you guys.
I’d never met Bruce Hornsby but I was a huge fan of his music. I heard “Every Little Kiss” on the radio and it just blew me away. But then I’m reading an article in a magazine, and it was a “desert island disc” thing, talking about the records that you’ve gotta have, and he mentioned Will the Circle Be Unbroken. It was like, WOW! So I somehow got his phone number, I called him up — cold-called him — and he said, “Oh yeah, man, I love that record, I love you guys.” I said, “You’ve seen us play?” He said, “Yeah, my brother and I sneaked in.” We were playing a college show in his hometown, and those guys started carrying amps into the venue. We were unloading the truck and they started carrying gear in, and ended up sort of hiding behind the bleachers, and when the show started, came out and watched the show.
We hit it off right away, so there’s a direct line to Circle 1 right there. And when we were putting together our core band for the sessions, of course we included our buddy Randy Scruggs (who was on the first Circle album), Roy Huskey Jr. (whose dad Junior Huskey played on the first album), Jerry Douglas, Mark O’Connor… It was so much fun walking in and making music with those guys every day. Chet Atkins is on a track and played one of my guitars, which I liked. I know I’m never selling that guitar.
One of the coolest tracks on there is “You Ain’t Goin’ Nowhere.” How did that come about?
We brought in Roger McGuinn and Chris Hillman, because the Byrds and the Flying Burrito Brothers were so important to us. The Byrds had done Dylan’s “You Ain’t Goin’ Nowhere,” but they wouldn’t play it on country radio, so we cut a version of “You Ain’t Goin’ Nowhere” with Roger and Chris, and it became a Top 10 country single, which we thought was cool redemption. We were really excited about being on the track with them. We still play that tune now and again. That’s one of our favorites. We’re really happy to have a good excuse to play it, because for years we played it in sound checks anyway.
It’s been 30 years now, but what do you remember about how Circle 2 was received upon release?
Perhaps because we had the platform of being a hit country band right about then, the label promoted the heck out of the record when it initially came out. And it had hits on it, that’s the other thing. Circle 1 didn’t really have any radio impact, whereas Circle 2 had “You Ain’t Goin’ Nowhere,” and we had a song called “When It’s Gone” that was a Top 10 single.
It’s a significant record and it’s funny, having been there from the get-go with this band, and having that first Circle record so deeply ingrained in my DNA, I sometimes forget how important Circle 2 was to a lot of folks. I’ve had more than one songwriter and musician tell me, “That’s what got me into you guys.”
What started as a music video concept for the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band evolved into a 1989 full-length film documenting the all-star recording sessions for Will the Circle Be Unbroken, Volume Two. Nitty Gritty Dirt Band co-founder Jeff Hanna will present a rare screening of clips from The Making of Will the Circle Be Unbroken, Volume Two at the Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum on September 11 at 11 a.m., during AmericanaFest.
Hanna will be joined by bluegrass virtuoso Sam Bush, who appears in the film and on the album with New Grass Revival. Craig Shelburne, managing editor of the Bluegrass Situation, will moderate.
Produced by Joanne Gardner Lowell and Rosanne Cash, the film captures the band in the studio recording their groundbreaking project. Select clips will show performances by Johnny and June Carter Cash; Jerry Douglas; Emmylou Harris; Bruce Hornsby; Jimmy Martin; New Grass Revival; John Prine; Earl Scruggs; Randy Scruggs; Ricky Skaggs; and others. Will the Circle be Unbroken, Volume Two won three Grammy Awards as well as the 1989 CMA award for the Album of the Year.
Three decades after its release, Joanne Gardner Lowell offered some keen perspective on the film through an email interview with the Bluegrass Situation.
BGS: What was it about the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band and this project that made it a compelling film subject for you?
JGL: ACME Pictures was contracted to make a video for the title track. This is pretty common. We signed the contract and when I asked what day during the multi-week schedule this song would be done, Jeff said, “All of them.” When I realized we would need to go to the studio every day for weeks to get this song, it seemed obvious we should shoot the whole experience — so we did.
How would you describe the mood, or the vibe, in the room during these sessions?
It was joyful in the studio. Each day the musicians came so ready to create and collaborate. We were honored to be in the room with it all. Being live made everyone really stay on top of their game. It felt like a family reunion on many days, and there was always a lot of humor and laughter. Our primary director, Bill Pope, captured so much of the mood with his amazing camera work.
It was also shot during the holiday season, so people were in a happy mood. Emmylou brought a handmade Christmas ornament you can see hanging in some of the shots. And my partner Rosanne Cash came into the studio with her newborn Carrie. I don’t think she was even two weeks old. Rose handed her to me and I held her tight while running sound for the track Rose and John Hiatt did together. Carrie never made a peep!
It was crucial to capture the acoustic nature of these sessions. What was your audio setup like?
I had a simple Nagra tape recorder just to have an edit track to work from and to record interviews. I had a single mic that I would place in the room to catch all the conversation, as some of that was obviously not recorded for the album and we wanted it for the film. Although, during our interview with Emmylou Harris, the band loved what she said so much that those comments ended up on the album.
Do you remember any particularly fun encounters with the legendary musicians in the film?
We caught some great moments and they’re in the film. The ending of a fast-paced “Valley Road” with Bruce Hornsby was a favorite. The band all stops for a second to look at each other — then they realize they got it and they all start shouting and cheering.
After Jimmy Martin’s session one day, he went out for some cocktails and came back into the studio while Ricky Skaggs was working. We captured Jimmy (feeling no pain and wearing a coonskin cap) as he and Ricky ripped into a spontaneous version of “The Old Crossroads.”
This film was Mr. Acuff’s last filmed appearance and that was special. I have to say — each time the song “Will the Circle Be Unbroken” was performed, it was magic. Every single time.
The Dirt Band did a masterful job of keeping things upbeat and fun for everyone. Every one of them was so engaged in each song — and brought individual songs or artists to the project. They were like marathon runners, giving their all each day and then coming back the next day to do it again.
What were some of the hurdles you faced in the film’s creation and release?
The very existence of this film was due to a California record company exec telling me that we would be in breach of contract if we didn’t deliver this video for the agreed-upon budget. When I explained this “song” was going to require us to shoot for several weeks, this delightful woman didn’t seem to care. I think it was meant to be — we HAD to make it work.
Bill couldn’t figure out how to light the dimly lit studio without a pile of light stands in every shot — and in everyone’s way. So, he created a giant light box and hung it from the ceiling. You don’t see a single light stand.
We didn’t have any money to sync up the video with electronic slates or fancy editing gear. I moved a cuts only 3/4″ video editing system into my office and had to sync the shots up by eye more than once… if we didn’t have an audio track running. Watching Mark O’Connor’s fingers or Earl Scruggs’ fingers to make sure you lock each note made for some very long nights. Those fingers were flying!
Rosanne and I sold 50 percent of the film rights to a company who released it on home video. Unbeknownst to us, the entire archive of that company was acquired by another company that isn’t interested in letting us buy the remaining rights, so we remain in limbo.
What do you hope a modern viewer will experience when watching these clips 30 years later?
This is a piece of living history. The first Circle album influenced every single musician I know. Watching the creation of the second — especially thirty years on — reminds you what kind of power music has.
It makes me sad to count off how many artists from this project are gone now: Johnny Cash, all of the Carter Sisters, Earl and Randy Scruggs, Vassar Clements, Chet Atkins, Levon Helm, John Denver, Roy Acuff, and dear Roy Huskey, Jr. In this world of instant technology, I think this 30-year-old film puts the viewer right into the studio for a front row seat at this amazing recording. I’m very proud of it.
Artist:Molly Parden & Hollow Hum Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee Song: “Why Worry” Album:Why Worry: A Collection of Covers Release Date: June 28, 2019 Label: Independent / Distribution with Tone Tree Music.
In Their Words: “The essence of Mark Knopfler was introduced to me back in 2012 and I wish I could remember which of his songs I heard first. I had no knowledge of Dire Straits or their international stardom, absolutely none. Only this deep, gentle voice with a backing band that sounds like it has been there since the dawn of time, a sole guitar, smooth as butter with intermittent growly tone to let you know Mark wields power, but uses it ever so mercifully. His songs are hymns to me. ‘Sailing to Philadelphia,’ which is basically a musical history lesson featuring James Taylor, nearly brings me to tears. ‘Back to Tupelo’ and ‘Our Shangri-La’ are in the vault, the one that I send to space and then it comes back to my children 50 years later with 10 Things That Mommy Needs You To Have. But this song, ‘Why Worry,’ is a Dire Straits tune off of Brothers in Arms (1985) — I first heard it as a duet between Emmylou Harris and Mark — that has been covered by the Everly Brothers, Chet Atkins, and now I can proudly add my name to the list. Featured on this version is London’s resident guitar aficionado Matt Park. I discovered that he and I share a mutual admiration for The Knopf whilst we together were on tour with Sam Outlaw in the summer of 2018.” — Molly Parden
“This song was new to me, Molly played it for me once, and of course I wanted to cut it with her. It’s just one of those timeless songs that brings an immediate exhale and sense of comfort. The simple arrangement lets the vocal sit out front and really communicate the message of the song, which I love. Because it’s not such a well-known track, I hope some new ears discover this beautiful tune.” — Hollow Hum
Photo credit: Marcus Maddox
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