Kenny Baker, “Frost on the Pumpkin”

Look, it’s October. We’re well into it, really. It’s the season of leaf-peeping, big and cozy sweaters, apple-flavored everything, and complaining about those who do or don’t enjoy a pumpkin spice coffee drink. But somehow, here at BGS South in Nashville and across the country from Oakland to Chicago to Miami the oppressive heat and generally obstinate weather of summer refuses to cede its ground to bonfires, apple pies, and hayrides.

So, while we wait for the ever-warming climate to give in, allowing us perhaps one or two enjoyable weeks of late-harvest vegetables, dazzling colors, warm waning light, and a slight nip in the air (before a brown, muddy winter), Kenny Baker’s “Frost on the Pumpkin” will have to get us in the mood. It’s like an immersive auditory candle, bringing our favorite time of year wafting on the swampy, 90 degree breeze. It reminds of a barn dance, insulated with bales of straw and heated with warm, dancing bodies — and maybe some whiskey in the cider and nog.

After all, what’s more autumnal than a resonant, warm, ruddy-sounding fiddle, played at the perfect happy-medium dancing speed by one of the most down home, soulful pickers to ever pick up a bow? Well, actual autumn might be. But for now, “Frost on the Pumpkin” will have to suffice. And if, wherever you are, this tune isn’t just a harbinger of our favorite season, but a soundtrack, will you send some of that crisp air our way? We could use a little frost on our pumpkins…

Curtis McPeake, “Leather Britches”

There’s a beauty in the timelessness of bluegrass. It facilitates spaces where the youngest prodigies and the most traveled, veteran virtuosos intermingle with ease. The genre is young enough that a few of its trailblazers are still among us, and stories of the legendary architects of the form are still told firsthand. The 90-year-old banjo player and recording artist Curtis McPeake is a testament to that timelessness. His career began seventy years ago; in his early days he performed and recorded with Bill Monroe and his Blue Grass Boys. He later became the only banjo player to ever be a member of the Grand Ole Opry house band and he was also an in-demand session musician, appearing on records by country stars like George Jones and Melba Montgomery. So the fact that McPeake has been named a recipient of one of 2018’s Distinguished Achievement Awards from the International Bluegrass Music Association should come as no surprise.

But, McPeake will not be accepting the award from retirement — he still picks the banjo as fine as ever, he also buys and sells instruments, and he continues to record and perform. Earlier this year he and his collaborator, multi-instrumentalist and songwriter Andy May, released a full-length album, The Good Things (Outweigh the Bad). On its final track, “Leather Britches,” you can hear that same timelessness in McPeake’s duet with Nashville stalwart fiddler Aubrey Haynie. They kick the tune with fiddle and banjo only, showcasing that classic pre-bluegrass format, Haynie fiddling fantastically far and wide while McPeake holds it all together with his three-finger roll, seventy years in the making.

WATCH: The Earls of Leicester, ‘Long Journey Home’

Artist: The Earls of Leicester
Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee
Song: “Long Journey Home”
Album: The Earls of Leicester Live at The CMA Theater in The Country Music Hall of Fame
Release Date: Sept. 28
Label: Rounder Records

In Their Words: “In the bluegrass canon, the song ‘Long Journey Home’ has appeared under many alternate titles for different artists. Yet I’ve always felt Earl Scruggs’ banjo raised the Flatt and Scruggs version to a higher level. When planning our live record, we wanted to have a few fast tempo songs that we could count on to raise the blood pressure for both the listeners and our own. The tempo and fire that this song brings through Charlie Cushman’s banjo as well as Shawn Camp and Jeff White’s vocals made it an easy choice, and a welcome new entrant into the Earls repertoire.” – Jerry Douglas


Photo credit: Patrick Sheehan

Mark O’Connor, ‘Pickin’ In The Wind’

Mark O’Connor comes about as close to being a household name as any musician in bluegrass (and its adjacent genres). Because bluegrass is predicated upon instrumental skill, the origin point of O’Connor’s recognition will always be his virtuosity, his musical expertise, and his command of his instrument. He’s a true master of bluegrass fiddle and contest fiddle forms, he’s a trailblazer in fiddle-flavored classical compositions of all manners and sorts, his musical code-switching extends to jazz, gypsy jazz, and swing, and he is pervasive on recordings and sessions from his years spent in Nashville. He even has his own violin and fiddle curriculum, The O’Connor Method, which pedagogically capitalizes on and celebrates American music, rather than Western European music, as usual.

Yet, no matter the level to which he transcends any/all musical barriers or the ubiquity of his name and brand, many folks don’t know he’s a maddeningly adept guitar player as well. In his youth, as he racked up wins at fiddle contests far and wide, he was also taking home flatpicking trophies with the same bravado. On his iconic 1976 album, Pickin’ In The Wind, the title track and the first tune on the record opts not to showcase his signature fiddling, but rather his guitar picking — backed up by a band that is no less than jaw-dropping: John Hartford on banjo, Sam Bush on mandolin, Norman Blake on dobro, Roy Huskey Jr. on bass, and Charlie Collins on the rhythm guitar. The tune listens down as straight-ahead bluegrass, but with a chord progression and arrangement that never strays into the simplistic, thanks in part to O’Connor’s compositional taste and the supreme talent of his fellow musicians. It’s an O’Connor staple that doesn’t require a single bowstroke.

So, in celebration of O’Connor’s birthday (August 5), it seems appropriate that we shine a light on the guitar stylings and the unbelievable ensemble of “Pickin’ In The Wind.”

WATCH: Becky Buller & Sam Bush, ‘The Rebel and the Rose’

Artist: Becky Buller
Hometown: St. James, Minnesota
Song: “The Rebel and the Rose”
Album: Crêpe Paper Heart
Label: Dark Shadow Recording

In Their Words: “’The Rebel and the Rose’ is a period piece, with its reference to a soldier and his love navigating love and loss amid the turmoil of civil war. It is also, however, a classic story about choices, desperation and hope … and the redemptive power of love. The tender message within is quite fitting for contemporary life; a commentary on things that tear us apart and things that bring us together … and how quite often, the tearing apart or joining together is a choice of the heart, separate from any issue. This song is special to me on so many levels, from writing it with my dear friend, Tony Rackley, to recording it with my hero, Sam Bush. The message of hope in this song is timeless; not one of us is so broken that love can’t mend us.” — Becky Buller


Photo credit: Shelly Swanger

WATCH: Lonesome River Band, “Wreck of My Heart”

Artist: Lonesome River Band
Hometown: Floyd, Virginia
Song: “Wreck Of My Heart”
Label: Mountain Home Music Company

In Their Words: “It’s a great song with one of the coolest, catchiest melodies I’ve heard in a while. It’s just so different than anything we’ve done in a while, and those songs are hard to find. We shot the video in Bristol, Tennessee/Virginia at a few locations: The Birthplace of Country Music Museum and the Paramount Center for the Arts. We’ve played both those venues before. It was kind of neat to go back there and do something like that. The song is about a woman leaving, so we just kept singing to a woman who kept getting up and going. We all had fun and it shows at the end and when we’re on stage. We’re all just cutting up.” — Brandon Rickman


Photo Credit: Anthony Ladd

The Hit Points, ‘Guile’s Theme’

Bluegrass, as a genre, is built upon nostalgia. Especially in its contemporary iterations. Modern bluegrass plays like a primer of the form itself, referencing the genre’s founders, its historical moments, its popular songs, and all of its favorite themes and buzzwords, no matter how trope-ish — because nostalgia is a commodity.

But, what’s that sound? It’s not pining for the hills and home, it’s nostalgia for an entirely different time, place, and feeling. The feeling being a creeping dread at the inevitability of your loss at the hands of Ryu, E. Honda, or Chun-Li. The decadent, joyful nostalgia that The Hit Points — fiddler guru Eli Bishop (Lee Ann Womack, the Deadly Gentlemen) and banjo wizard Matt Menefee (Cadillac Sky, ChessBoxer) — conjure on their blazing cover of “Guile’s Theme,” from Nintendo’s iconic video game, Street Fighter, will send you careening back in time. You’ll land on a couch, or high pile carpet, or flimsy futon in front of a TV, where as youths (or as youthfuls), you consumed hours and hours of video game entertainment. And with it, you also consumed hours and hours of incredible music, without ever realizing that the otherworldly, impossibly complicated tunes could actually be performed by human beings. Let alone by bluegrass musicians, on bluegrass instruments, with such ease and aplomb that it would nearly strike listeners as just another new acoustic, Dawg-grass tune.

The Hit Points’ debut, self-titled project is chock-full of nearly note-for-note covers of 8-bit music, crafted with loving care and aggressive creativity — and surrounded by a talented cast that includes Jake Stargel (Mountain Heart), Sierra Hull, Royal Masat (Billy Strings), and Paul Kowert (Punch Brothers), it shouldn’t be a surprise. This is instrumental acoustic music and bluegrass pickin’ at its best.

LISTEN: Junior Sisk with Del McCoury, “The Guilt Was Gone”

Artist: Junior Sisk (with Del McCoury)
Hometown: Ferrum, Virginia
Album: Brand New Shade of Blue
Release Date: June 8, 2018
Label: Mountain Fever Records

In Their Words: “When I first heard the demo of ‘The Guilt Was Gone,’ Shawn Camp was singing the fire out of it! I thought to myself, ‘That sounds like a Del McCoury song if I ever heard one.’ Then I remembered asking Del if he’d sing a song with me some time and he said, ‘Anytime! Just holler.’ So, I did and here it is!” — Junior Sisk


Photo credit: Kady C. Photography

LISTEN: 10 String Symphony, ‘The Ballad of Bruno’

Artist: 10 String Symphony
Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee
Song: “The Ballad of Bruno”
Album: Generation Frustration
Release Date: July 13, 2018
Label: Tasty Note Records

In Their Words: “‘The Ballad of Bruno’ was inspired by a children’s cartoon history show that Rachel happened to catch accidentally while on tour. The program told the story of an ancient philosopher named Bruno who had some very advanced and controversial ideas for his time. He was one of the first to argue that the universe was infinite, and that the earth was not, in fact, the center of the universe. He was imprisoned for his blasphemous ideas and eventually burned at the stake in Rome. Several real biographical situations make their way into the song, including his seven-year imprisonment in the Tower of Nona. As an ancient hero of critical thinking and free speech, we thought Bruno deserved a song. The chorus, spoken in Bruno’s voice, proclaims ‘I gave to them infinity and yet they were so daft, they crushed me between their fingers for what they could not grasp.'” — Rachel Baiman/Christian Sedelmyer


Photo credit: Gina Binkley

Reading the Room: A Conversation With Trampled by Turtles

Trampled by Turtles are living up to the title of their newest album, Life Is Good on the Open Road. The Minnesota-based band parked the bus for nearly 18 months after touring behind their prior album, 2014’s Wild Animals. Leading up to the new project the six-piece group gathered at a lakeside cabin and rekindled their connection forged over more than a decade of performing together. Those positive vibes carried over to the new album, which emphasizes their exceptional acoustic chops. On the afternoon of their Ryman Auditorium show in Nashville, frontman Dave Simonett and mandolin player Erik Berry visited backstage with the Bluegrass Situation.

I know you cut this new album live-to-tape, but I was still surprised to see it took just six days to record it.

Simonett: We were surprised too. We had two weeks booked in a studio, which I think for a lot of people might be fast as well. For us that’s plenty of time, usually. But we ended up mixing the whole thing while we were there too.

Berry: Yeah, there was a dinnertime meeting where it was like, “Gentleman, I think we’re done. We got one more song to record tomorrow.” “Really?”

Other than just the general efficiency, what’s the upside to that?

Simonett: I enjoy lots of parts about live recording. I like to do it quite a bit. When I produce other people, I try to get bands to do it as well. It’s always spoken about in a vague way because I think it’s really hard to describe. But you do capture some kind of energy, a vibe. People play differently, if you want to get practical about it, when they’re all playing with each other, rather than playing to something that’s already been recorded.

The rhythm is one. You’re not following anything, you’re all just kind of moving in the same direction at the same time and it’s elastic. Nowadays it might be considered risky because it’s so easy to make things perfect now. But I’ve never felt like that really benefits that many people anyway. But especially us who have been playing together for a while. When we all sit and play and look at each other and play with each other, it sounds different than if we don’t, I guess.

Berry: To add to it, we hadn’t played together for about a year, outside of the weekend retreat we did. To build on what Dave’s saying, when people are playing together live, there’s also something different when something’s happening for the first, second, third, or fourth time, than when you’re playing that tune for the 50th time. Stuff grows on it; they move together differently.

Simonett: Yeah, I’ve always loved trying to capture a song before people start to really think about what they’re doing. Before people come up with parts to play. Before it gets dissected too much. It’s cool to see what happens naturally. I’m burnt out after a fifth take. That’s as far as I want to go.

Dave, how do you introduce your new songs to the band? From what I understand, you had songs already in your back pocket when you got together to record. How do you show the band, “Here’s some songs I’ve written”?

Simonett: That’s about as simple as that. Sit down and…

Berry: I use the phrase “coffee house ready.” Dave’s got them to a point where you could go to a coffee house and play the song.

Simonett: Yeah, I can play them. Core structure, melody, lyrics are pretty much done. And then I just sit there and play it a few times, and people join in when they feel like they have the hang of it, and it’s pretty organic.

That seems cooler than recording a little demo and emailing it to everybody.

Simonett: Yeah. I do that too, just so people can get the vibe, or at least know what’s coming – maybe if I have the song done in time to do that kind of thing. That is a nice thing to be able to have. I don’t think the real learning of it happens until we are all in the same space, though.

Berry: The real benefit of having stuff in advance is like in “Annihilate,” where I have a part that I wrote on it because I had the time to think about it.

Simonett: I also don’t know how to write music down on paper, so it’s all pretty simple anyway.

You guys seem to operate a lot on instinct. Is that something you had to develop and learn?

Simonett: Oh, I think it’s the absence of learning for me. I don’t really know any other way to act.

Berry: I hate the word “easy,” but there’s been a certain easy chemistry that all of us have always had with each other. On the very early shows, I’m like, “That’s pretty good. I could see doing that again.” So there’s something like that, too, now that it’s 15 years down the road.

Simonett: There’s a lot of bands in the string band world, if you want to call it that, that are amazing at that kind of stuff. I guess I don’t want to list examples because I’ll probably leave somebody out, but I think we’re pretty comfortable being a band that’s not that. It’s maybe more song-driven than upfront-playing driven, if that makes sense. That’s just where we naturally fit, I think.

Berry: I’ll name a couple names. When we first started, I didn’t know what I was doing. So I went across the street from where I worked to the Electric Fetus Record Store in Duluth and said, “I’m just getting this bluegrass band starting. I don’t know what to listen to.” So they sold me a Bill Monroe CD and they sold me a Yonder Mountain String Band CD. They were like, “This is your basis. Here’s what’s happening right now.” That Yonder Mountain disc was Mountain Tracks, Volume 2. That’s a live one. There’s some really great stuff on there. It didn’t take me very long for me to realize I couldn’t play like that. [laughs]

You guys are good at reading the room by now, I’d imagine, after 15 years on the road.

Simonett: Yeah, I think so. It’s always kind of a mystery. You can play the same set list two nights in a row and the response could be completely different. My goal as a performer is to get as far away from caring about that as possible. Any true performer will tell you that you can’t please everybody and that’s really not your job anyway. My job onstage – I don’t view it as to be up there to make everybody in the room happy because I can barely keep myself happy, you know? But I feel like we tailor to rooms, though, with our set list.

Berry: If we were going to do a set that no one was going to watch, I think that what we would prefer to do would be like, “OK, let’s take a break with a little slower one, now. Now we’re going to kick it up again.” I think people like our tastes. We’re pretty lucky … I don’t know, I’ve had to come to grips with it, too, because people aren’t shy about letting you know they’re disappointed.

Simonett: They love it, actually.

Berry: People have been telling me after shows that it’s bullshit that we didn’t play “Song X” or “Song Y” since the year 2005.

Yeah? What do you do when that happens?

Berry: You play a 90-minute show. If you have more than 90 minutes’ worth of material, the odds of dropping a song are high. … If we played every original song we have, that’s a four-hour show. That’s not going to happen. So I could challenge any Trampled fan: “Here. Write your ideal set, 24 songs.” I know that I could read it and be like, “But you left off… Now you know how it feels.”

Simonett: A listening crowd – it’s a weird relationship, man. It feels great generally. I like performing. It took me a while to like it. I still get freaked out about getting up on stage. But I enjoy the act of it now. But you can’t go up there with the illusion that everybody in the room is going to enjoy what you do. I think if you start thinking about that too much, you start changing yourself and you’re really close to becoming a cover band.

Do you mean like a cover band of your own material?

Simonett: Of ourselves, yeah. To just go up there and try to do what you think people are going to like. That’s not the point. For me, I like to think as an artist, I want to be able to feel totally comfortable. This tour is a good example – to go up and play new music every night. That’s holding on to still being valid in some way.


When I listen to this record, there does seem to be a sense of motion in the writing and the songs. Do you agree with that?

Simonett: I agree with it, yeah. I think even the title. But all of that came about after we made it. It’s happened to me before. You write a bunch of songs and make a record and you have no clue of any kind of thread that binds them all together until you put it in order and listen to it. “I guess I was singing about traveling a lot.” [laughs] I don’t really notice it as it’s happening.

Listening to “Thank You, John Steinbeck,” I heard a reference to the book Travels With Charley. What are the literary influences you draw on for inspiration?

Simonett: Steinbeck is really high on my list. That book in particular. It’s been a couple of years since I’ve done this, but I used to read that book before every tour. Hopefully this isn’t too long-winded of an answer, but after a certain amount of time touring, maybe the traveling part of it starts to lose its sparkle a little bit, and you forget … It’s amazing how easy it is to have a life like this become predictable, which it’s not supposed to be. At least I don’t want it to be that way. [I want to] remember that it’s still an adventure. You’re still roaming around the world playing music. I think the core of that book is appreciating the adventure of a road trip. It made me want to pack my camera, you know?


Photos by David McClister