10 Old-Time Fiddle Tunes With Outrageous Names

I love a great fiddle tune as much as the next person, but sometimes their names simply do too much. It’s not hard to imagine how these titles might have been changed and twisted over the years, in the game of telephone that inevitably exists in oral traditions. Some tunes, like “Shove That Pig’s Foot a Little Closer to the Fire,” have multiple rumored explanations for their names. Clawhammerbanjo.net discusses some of these possibilities in this lengthy explanation. We may never know for sure where these names come from, but here are 10 tunes that exhibit old-time at its most absurd:

“Jaybird Died of the Whooping Cough”

This may be a slightly traumatizing title for a post-pandemic society, but it’s still scientifically interesting. Can a jaybird, indeed, contract whooping cough? Here, the fabulous Foghorn Stringband research the situation. 

“Dick’s Handspike”

What exactly was “Dick’s Handspike”? Do we even want to know? Hilary Burhans demonstrates, with a beautiful tune undeserving of such a blunt (or sharp?) name. 

“Bullfrog on a Puncheon Floor”

Reportedly from the fiddling of Estill Bingham, Mark Gilston plays this lovely tune on mountain dulcimer. According to the University of South Carolina, a puncheon is an Appalachian term meaning “A split log or rough timber having one face smoothed by an adze, used for flooring, benching, siding of log buildings, etc.”  

“Sal’s Got a Meat Skin”

In addition to meaning a literal meat skin, the term can also be used as an insult, according to Urban Dictionary. If you want to know more, you’ll have to Google it. Here, the Snake Hollow Stringband from old-time hot spot Floyd, Virginia, performs “Sal’s Got a Meat Skin.”

“Soapsuds Over the Fence”

Taking its place in a longstanding tradition of “naming the tune whatever is actively happening within eyesight at the time of writing” we have “Soapsuds Over the Fence.” Played in this video by the equally wonderfully-named renowned fiddler, Harry Bolick.

“I’m a Nice Old Man”

Nothing says “I’m not a nice old man” more than proclaiming, “I’m a nice old man.” This tune is credited to the playing of Melvin Wine. No shade on Melvin! He just played the tune, and allegedly was a nice old man. Here we have it reimagined on Leicestershire smallpipes by Moira Bracknall. 

“Don’t Drink Nothin but Corn” 

I feel that this tune’s title is missing its last word – “liquor” – but as a Midwesterner, I can’t put it past folks to drink straight corn. Nevertheless, this tune somehow made its way all the way to Sweden, here we have the Hot Corn Band performing it. 

“Shove the Pig’s Foot a Little Closer to the Fire”

Perhaps the best-known of these outrageous tunes, “Shove the Pig’s Foot” has become a classic. Here is old-time royalty Bruce Molsky’s recording of the tune.  

“Big Footed Man In the Sandy Lot”

This tune sounds like a clue in a murder mystery. Why exactly was that big-footed man in the sandy lot? Here’s a beautiful rendition from Lukas Pool.

“Hell and Scissors”

What is it about Hell and scissors, they just go together like bread and butter! Here we have The Moose Whisperers featuring BGS favorite Jake Blount playing a great version at Clifftop.


Background image by Wes Hecks via unsplash.com

BGS 5+5: Brad Kolodner

Artist: Brad Kolodner
Hometown: Baltimore, Maryland
Latest Album: Chimney Swifts
Personal nicknames: B-rad, Dadley, BK

Which artist has influenced you the most … and how?

My father Ken, hands down. As long as I can remember, my father’s music has been the soundtrack of my life. To be fair, I didn’t have much choice in the matter. The living room in our house was filled with the sounds of his hammered dulcimer and fiddle playing (along with the scores of students who banged away on their dulcimers and scratched out tunes on fiddle). I’d be lying if I said my sister and I always loved the ruckus. In all seriousness, the music must’ve been seeping in all those years. When I finally picked up the banjo as a teen, old-time music clicked and it felt right.

My father quickly became a musical mentor and eventually a bandmate and musical peer. His experience playing a multitude of traditional folk music styles through his years with his band Helicon has informed how I approach music with a creative, open mind while respecting the traditional roots of the music. His musicality and sense of dynamics are captivating. He really feels every note and it’s something I strive for in my playing. While piecing together material for my new solo album Chimney Swifts, it was a natural choice to include my father on the project as I wanted to highlight both the groovy and mellow sides of his playing. It’s always a joy to make music with him and I’ll treasure that feeling as long as I can.

What was the first moment that you knew you wanted to be a musician?

Singing “I’ve Been Everywhere” for the student talent show at the Meadowlark music camp in Maine back in 2007 was a catalyst for my love of being on stage sharing music. I had just wrapped up my very first week learning the basics of clawhammer banjo in a workshop with Richie Stearns, who ultimately became a banjo hero of mine. I could only play a very clumsy “bum-ditty” so I wasn’t quite ready to show off my newfound love of the banjo. However, I was eager to share the one song I had memorized in my life up to that point for the student talent show.

Years earlier, I spent weeks memorizing all the places in “I’ve Been Everywhere,” which caught my ear when I heard Johnny Cash’s version in a commercial. Suffice to say, I didn’t do too well in school for those few weeks. With my tail between my legs, I hopped up on stage and sang the song. As a relatively shy kid at that point in my life, I emerged from my shell after belting out each verse with the crowd roaring along the way. I can’t say I knew I wanted to be musician at that moment but it’s certainly the first time I tasted that high performers can get on stage in front of an electric audience. There’s actually a home video of that original performance.

What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?

I’ve been fortunate to have some incredible experiences performing with my father Ken at venues like the Kennedy Center, Winfield, and Clifftop and with Charm City Junction at Grey Fox, IBMA, and the Charm City Bluegrass Festival. However, there is one night that really jumps out: the opening concert at our inaugural Baltimore Old Time Music Festival in 2019. After moving back to my hometown in my early 20s around 2012, I made it my mission to reboot the local old-time music community. I cofounded our biweekly old-time jam with my dad, started the Baltimore Square Dance with some pals, and hosted a monthly house concert series with the long term goal of putting together an old-time music festival someday. Well, that dream became a reality in 2019 when I, with Baltimore Old Time Music Festival in partnership with the Creative Alliance, cofounded an arts organization here in town. I’ll always treasure the memory of standing on stage during the kickoff concert in a packed concert hall rocking out during the encore playing “Tennessee Mountain Fox Chase” with the biggest smile on my face. This year, we’re hoping to have our “2nd” Annual Baltimore Old Time Music Festival in mid-November.

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

There’s really nothing more nourishing or magical than the time I’ve spent deep in the dense woods on top of a mountain in Clifftop, West Virginia, at the Appalachian String Band Festival. As an artist, I spend much of my time making music in the context of my work — playing a show, teaching lessons, leading a local jam, etc. While I’m deeply grateful for this lifestyle, I need those soul-nourishing experiences in which I play music simply to play music. Clifftop provides that space. It’s a gathering of thousands of old-time musicians who huddle under soggy EZ-ups ’til the wee hours playing fiddle tunes. The natural beauty of the setting adds to that magic.

There’s something about the shared experience trudging through the mud, square dancing in a dusty dirt road, and watching the sunrise with your buds grooving out on fiddles tunes that can’t be matched anywhere else. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve gotten lost meandering through the woods with sounds of far-off old-time jams swirling around the forest. There’s a hike next to the campground that weaves through a rhododendron grove amidst rock formations atop a ridge before descending to a little mountain stream. It’s the quintessential West Virginia swimming hole and it’s a hike I look forward to every year. Most of all, I’ve made some dear pals at Clifftop who have become my closest musical collaborators including Alex Lacquement and Rachel Eddy who are featured on my latest album, Chimney Swifts. While the music is what draws me in, it’s the people who keep me coming back year after year.

Since food and music go so well together, what is your dream pairing of a meal and a musician?

Well, since you asked… Before I played music, I was (and still am, sadly) a diehard Baltimore Orioles fan. The earliest musical memory I have, besides listening to my father’s music, is seeing John Denver hop up on top of the Baltimore Orioles dugout during the seventh inning stretch to sing “Thank God I’m a Country Boy” back in 1997 just a couple weeks before he tragically passed away in a plane crash. After that performance, my parents gifted me some John Denver CDs and I listened to them more than anything else as a kid — really. I would fall asleep to his albums on repeat and my parents would have to come in and turn them off after I dozed off. So, it would be my dream to sit with John Denver at an Orioles ballgame on a warm summer night while eating a Boog’s BBQ sandwich and drinking a Natty Boh beer (a classic Baltimore combo). Oh, and an Orioles win would be nice, but I don’t want to ask for anything unrealistic…


Photo credit: Joanna Tillman

Shaped by String Bands and Bluegrass, John R. Miller Delivers ‘Depreciated’

On his new album Depreciated, John R. Miller shows a true appreciation for traditional country songwriting and progressive bluegrass musicianship, even though his music isn’t neatly defined by either one. A West Virginia native who now lives in Madison, Tennessee, Miller unveiled the material at a club show in Nashville just a few days after the album’s release on Rounder Records. His original songs are rich in detail and humor, although his lyrics can get moody enough to satisfy anybody who’s looking for the darker side of acoustic music. Delivered in his rough-hewn baritone, his songs somehow feel like familiar stories that you want to hear again.

Before returning to the road, Miller caught up with BGS at an East Nashville coffee shop to talk about his acoustic heroes, where he found his first guitar, and why he puts a fiddle in a rock ‘n’ roll band.

BGS: You announced this record by releasing “Lookin’ Over My Shoulder,” which is not exactly a happy song, but it does makes me laugh. What was on your mind as that song was taking shape?

Miller: I wrote that after I moved away from the town I’d lived in for a while. It’s a small-town scenario. When you go back after being away, you’re in the mode of trying to avoid some people. It can be tricky to navigate but I thought it was a funny little song that I didn’t think we would end up recording. Then we rearranged it a little bit and turned it into what it is now – and it’s the first song on the record. You just never know, I guess.

Where is your hometown?

The place where I grew up is just off the highway in the eastern panhandle of West Virginia. It has historically been pretty rural. There’s a lot of development around the highway, so it’s turned into a strip mall highway town. Just over the mountain, it gets real country real quick. But for most of my 20s I lived in a river town called Shepherdstown. It’s small, just a couple of bars in town and everybody knows everybody. That was home for a long time, but I felt like I needed a fresh start, so I moved down here. I spent so much time traveling and felt untethered in the first place. A lot of my friends started getting older and moving away. A few of them actually came down here. This was the next place, where I knew the most people and the most couches to crash on for a little while. I decided to give it a shot and I’m still here.

When did you gravitate toward playing guitar?

I was about 14 when I picked up guitar. My dad had a nylon string guitar in the closet that I never saw him play. I was starting to get into music more, and into punk bands that I found out about from my friends. Basically I was trying to learn power chords on this classical nylon string guitar classical guitar. Eventually I wrote that out and got a Stratocaster and tried to do garage bands in high school.

Were you and your friends listening to acoustic music too?

Maybe not when I was a teenager. We were mostly into indie rock and punk rock growing up, like skater kids. It probably wasn’t until I was 19 that my musical interests expanded a little bit. I started getting into songwriters. The real gateway for me was that Steve Earle and Del McCoury Band album, [1999’s The Mountain], which is one of the best out there. I had already found my way into Steve Earle’s music and then that dovetailed nicely with bluegrass and old-time music with that record. That was a big one for me.

Are you a bluegrass fan?

Oh yeah. I’ve lived in the bluegrass world a little bit and during times in my life a whole lot. I used to play in a string band too. It was more like a fiddle-centric string band, but we did some bluegrass stuff as well and got on that circuit for a little while. There were a couple of guys in the string band that were ahead of me in terms of what they knew about and what they liked, so they helped me learn about a whole lot of stuff.

Who were some of your influences in bluegrass?

I’m a huge Jimmy Martin fan. That stuff’s so cool and just kind of ragged in all the right ways. The Stanley Brothers, of course. There are some modern bluegrass bands that I’ve grown to love a whole lot. Town Mountain is one of the best out there. We crossed paths with them a little bit back in the day and it’s cool to see them still doing it. The Seldom Scene’s Live at the Cellar Door record is a classic too. I really love that. I also really love that early newgrass stuff, like Old & In the Way and John Hartford. That Old & In the Way record was a constant in the van.

Speaking of that, how did you get the idea for “Half Ton Van“?

That song in particular, I spent months looking for an old van to get the band moving. I was on Craigslist and Marketplace a whole lot. I feel like I was seeing a lot of the same tricks, you know? I went to look at a lot of terrible vans. It was a few years ago and I had already been through a few vans with other bands, and it always feels like I’m trying to find one at the last minute. I ended up getting one that was full of rust holes and leaking oil and everything like that. So the song is an amalgam of all those experiences of people trying to sell their junk to you.

At your show, the crowd really responded to “Shenandoah Shakedown,” which surprised me. It has that gothic feel, and seems to be the sleeper on the record.

That one seems to be doing pretty good. I wouldn’t have expected that either because it’s kind of different. It doesn’t strike me as an accessible song necessarily. That one is heavily inspired by living on the river out there. It’s more of a collection of vignettes of time spent up there, and some mushrooms and whatnot involved, you know? Some of the characters are composites but there are specific people in it, for sure.

There’s a lot of fiddle on this record too. Why do you like having that in the mix?

I love fiddle tunes and fiddle music and I spend a lot of time at fiddlers conventions, like the Clifftop Appalachian String Band Music Festival in West Virginia, or in Mt. Airy, North Carolina. It’s been a constant in my life for a really long time now. I’ve got a lot of buddies in that world and I play a little fiddle myself too. It’s a great way to just sit down and play tunes with people. The communal feeling and the non-commerciality of it is really cool. So I’m a little obsessive about it. Putting fiddle in a full rock ‘n’ roll band sounds good to my ears, and I also feel like if it wasn’t there, I would miss it — the presence of it.

Why did you want to include a guitar instrumental, “What’s Left of the Valley,” on here?

I’ve definitely written a couple of guitar pieces, but my partner Chloe really liked that one. I played it for her and it was her idea to just try it in the studio. We took a break from doing the stuff we had on the docket and gave that a try. It ended up feeling so nice, I thought it would be a good way to break up the songs on the record. I like that kind of stuff too, like an instrumental interlude.

At your show I was happy to hear you cover a Gary Stewart song, “Single Again.” What is it about that honky-tonk sound that appeals to you?

Man, it just sounds so cool to me. There’s a really wide range of it but that Gary Stewart stuff is so cool and so nuanced. A really high level of musicianship playing pretty accessible music is pretty awesome. I love country music very much. That’s been my soul food. Early to mid ‘70s is the sweet spot for me.

As a songwriter going into a music career, did you always want to have a full-band sound?

I don’t mind playing by myself — it’s kind of its own thing — but I’ve always played in bands and I love that connection. It’s so much fun. I prefer to be making music with my buddies and I’m fortunate to be playing with the band I’ve got now. They’re easygoing folks and great musicians. We’ve been on the road for a little over a week now and this is the first long tour that we’ve gotten to take together. We’re all getting used to it again.

Listening back to this record now, what goes through your mind?

I’m really proud of the work we did and what I love most about it is that I got to actually sit and play the songs live in a room with some of my close friends. Adam Meisterhans, who played guitar with us the other night, co-produced the record. He and I played in bands in West Virginia. I know him from Shepherdstown too. He’s like a brother to me. So it’s been cool to very intentionally work on a project and have it get finished and work out, you know? It’s nice to know that we did it the way we wanted to.


Photo credit: David McClister

MIXTAPE: Vivian Leva & Riley Calcagno’s Old-Time Deep Cuts

We were both old-time music festival kids, showing up at our parents’ jams with dirt-covered feet, stopping for a moment to listen to the tunes and songs that would undoubtedly carry on late into the night. When we met and first played music, it wasn’t to write or sing songs, but to stay up all night playing fiddle tunes, thrilled by the parallel experiences we shared that allowed playing together to feel effortless. Though the songs on our upcoming duo record aren’t traditional and draw a wide net of inspiration, we aimed to have the groove and groundedness of string band music woven into the feeling of the album.

This playlist includes some of our favorite (deep) cuts of old-time music, at least the ones that have been published for streaming and don’t linger on a cassette or family archive. We selected these to give you a sense of how each song or tune has spun a web of connection that somehow wound its way in our direction. We chose many songs that are somehow close to us and the people we know. We chose some that, by their very existence, make clear the injustice that this music and the people who make it are grappling with and/or trying to overcome.

Old-time music isn’t any one particular thing, but is instead filled with contradictions. Even its name feels odd to write and at odds with how we view it. Yet, it is the music that feels like home to us. Come and join our tragic and raging old-time party. – Vivian Leva and Riley Calcagno

Dirk Powell – “Three Forks of Cumberland”

This is one of our favorite recorded instances of old-time music and its unique, reckless drive. This twisty tune is a rare occurrence of a melody that came from sheet music, off the Hamblon family manuscripts. Dirk Powell is joined here by the original members of Foghorn Stringband, recorded live in Eugene, Oregon. You can hear us play this tune live during a jam at the Appalachian String Band Music Festival in Clifftop, West Virginia, on this Bandcamp release.

The Renegades – “Chilly Winds”

In the ‘90s, Vivian’s parents, Carol Elizabeth Jones and James Leva, played in The Renegades with Richie Stearns and June Drucker. Their combination of old-time string band music, harmony singing, and original songs are unique and well-crafted. Riley discovered this band in his dad’s iTunes library in high school before ever meeting Viv and was instantly hooked. Here, they play a song from the Round Peak region of North Carolina called “Chilly Winds.”

Lily May Ledford – “White Oak Mountain”

Lily May Ledford of Powell County, Kentucky sings this song of a woman who has been betrayed and seeks revenge. Ledford was the leader of the Coon Creek Girls, a widely recognized string band from the ‘30s to ‘50s. Viv’s mom Carol Elizabeth Jones sings this song (with the name “44 Gun”) on the recently re-released 1991 cassette, Rambling & Wandering, by the Wandering Ramblers.

Tara Nevins – “Rocky Island”

This record from Tara Nevins is one of our favorite traditional/original fusion projects. Check out that bouncy electric guitar… wowza. This one is sung by Jim Miller, now one of our label-mates with Western Centuries.

Hazel Dickens & Alice Gerrard – “Let Me Fall”

Hazel Dickens and Alice Gerrard sing this Round Peak classic on this practice tape, recorded live in Alice’s kitchen and released by Free Dirt Records.

Tommy Jarrell – “God Gave Noah the Rainbow Sign”

The musician who arguably had the most influence on today’s old-time music scene is Tommy Jarrell of Surry County, North Carolina. Tommy welcomed younger visitors in the 1970s and ‘80s (including Viv’s dad, James, on many occasions) to his house to learn tunes, swap stories, and pass on ideas about the music. Inspiration from Tommy’s playing, especially his bowing, has spread throughout the old-time scene. For more of Tommy, check out this video of Tommy and his frequent musical partner Fred Cockerham playing on a porch in 1971.

Paul Brown – “Red Clay Country”

Paul Brown beautifully picks the banjo and sings this old song on his record of the same name. He learned it from his mom, Louise Dichman Brown, who learned it in the 1920s from two brothers, John and Harry Calloway of Bedford County, Virginia. Paul told us that there are some early recordings of this song on so-called “race records,” the name given to records released featuring Black musicians in the highly segregated and exploitative record industry. This song in particular was a work song, sung by workers on the railroads. These laborers were often wrongly convicted Black people working dangerous and sometimes deadly jobs. Kevin Kehrberg and Jeffrey A. Keith write about this in their research on Swannanoa Tunnel (both the song and construction of the tunnel), a song that is similar to “Red Clay Country.”

Plank Road String Band – “Sail Away / George Booker”

This band came out of Vivian’s home county, Rockbridge County, Virginia, in the 1980s and features her dad James Leva. This track was featured on The Young Fogies, a compilation of the old-time music community during the ’80s revival era. The fabulously frenetic cello, played by Michael Kott, is unique for old-time music, as is the tenor banjo played by Al Tharp. The band had a few successful and influential tours in Scandinavia.

Bruce Molsky – “Last of Harris”

John Morgan Salyer of Magoffin County, Kentucky, was a fiddler who lived from 1882-1952. Though music was never his career, he played unique, often “crooked” (meaning an unexpected number of beats in each part) versions of fiddle tunes. His family recorded him at home in the 1940s, but these recordings weren’t made publicly available until nearly 50 years later thanks in large part to the work of Vivian’s grandfather, Loyal Jones. Here is one of our favorite Salyer tunes, played by one of our favorite fiddlers, Bruce Molsky (along with his partner, Audrey Molsky) on his 1993 Yodel-Ay-Hee cassette, Warring Cats.

Foghorn Stringband – “Best Timber”

Riley grew up around the band Foghorn Stringband and absorbed their uniquely driving sound at Stickerville in Weiser, Idaho, at the Portland Old-Time Music Gathering, and in lively kitchen parties around the Pacific Northwest. They learned this tune from the great Midwestern fiddler, Garry Harrison.

Gribble, Lusk, and York – “Rolling River: Country Dance”

Murphy Gribble, John Lusk, and Albert York of Warren County, Tennessee, were one of the best string bands of the 20th century. Even so, they were never commercially recorded because they were a Black string band at a time when record companies wouldn’t record such a band. (Black musicians were essentially barred from recording string band music and their recordings were segregated into “race records” which we mention above.) Murphy Gribble’s banjo playing in this recording is especially notable as creative and exceptional three-finger picking. More resources on Black string band music is on our friend, spectacular musician, and labelmate Jake Blount’s website. More writing on Gribble, Lusk, and York in an article by Linda L. Henry here.

Roscoe Holcomb – “Hills of Mexico”

Speaking of divine picked banjo, Roscoe Holcomb of the town of Daisy in Perry County, Kentucky, sings this story, “Hills of Mexico.” Mike Seeger, at a performance at Holcomb’s nursing home in Hazard, Kentucky, said that what set him apart is “that he had that real drive, like he really meant it… he had real conviction to his playing, and of course he sing with that high voice, and he’d take a lot of those old mountain songs and make them real special.” Viv’s mom, Carol Elizabeth Jones, also sings this song on a recording with The Renegades.

Bigfoot – “The Dying Cowboy”

Susie Goehring of Northeastern Ohio sings this heartbreaker on the great album by elusive string band Bigfoot. Rhys Jones plays some appropriately mournful fiddle lines under the vocal on the recording. We aren’t entirely sure where Susie learned it but Vivian sings a version from Sloan Matthews, recorded in Pecos, Texas, in 1942.

The Onlies – “Look Up, Look Down”

We also play in an old-time string band called The Onlies that Riley started with his friends Sami Braman and Leo Shannon when they were seven years old. Viv joined in 2017 after a chance meeting during the days between Centrum’s Voice Works and Fiddle Tunes workshops in Port Townsend, Washington. This track is sung by Leo on The Onlies newest record. We learned this version from the great Gaither Carlton.

The Humdingers – “Cumberland Gap”

There is something difficult about capturing the distinct energy of a string band on a recording. Often the best music happens late at night, far off in a field, and certainly never gets uploaded to Spotify. Here is a recorded instance of a band finding the center of the groove on one of the best fiddle tunes there is, “Cumberland Gap.” This recording is of the band The Humdingers with Brad Leftwich on the fiddle, Linda Higginbotham on the banjo uke, Bob Herring on guitar, Ray Alden on banjo, and Dirk Powell on bass.


Photo credit: Brendon Burton

George Jackson, “Dorrigo”

As a fiddler in Nashville, a town whose guitarist population is only rivaled by the sheer quantity of fiddles and bows, it takes a singular voice to stand out. Or, in George Jackson’s case, perhaps it takes a singular accent. The New Zealand native recently transplanted to Music City and has been carving a niche for himself in bluegrass, old-time, and their offshoots ever since. He currently tours with acclaimed bassist Missy Raines’ latest lineup, a minimalist-while-mighty acoustic trio, and he’s also been spotted collaborating with folks like Front Country and Rachel Baiman.

On his brand new album, Time and Place, Jackson steps into the role of frontman and bandleader, demonstrating that his voice — musically and otherwise — is so much more than just a charming, Oceanian accent. His fiddling is an intentional, pragmatic, and judicious combination of styles that range from Vassar Clements’ harebrained wit to Clifftop, West Virginia’s down-homiest old-time sawers. “Dorrigo,” a tune whose title tributes Australia, another former home to Jackson, perfectly demonstrates this old-meets-new, Northern Hemisphere meets Southern Hemisphere originality. The turns of phrase and melodic hooks register as familiar and timeless, before being unwound in surprising trajectories. Mandolin Orange’s Andrew Marlin, Charm City Junction’s Brad Kolodner, Mark Kilianski of Hoot and Holler, and Jackson’s longtime friend and collaborator Andrew Small fill out the band, demonstrating laser focus on old-time simplicity and bluegrass precision.

Perhaps thanks to his international roots, or his egalitarian approach to fiddle styles, Jackson’s “Dorrigo,” and by extension, Time and Place, simply do not bother trifling with authenticity signalling or genre designation. They simply elevate his singular voice.