Tag: grateful dead

Artist of the Month: Dead in December

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

(Editor’s Note: This December, we continue our annual series – see also: Dolly in December, Dawg in December, Dylan in December, and Del in December – by celebrating the iconic, trailblazing jam band, the Grateful Dead, all month long! We’ll be featuring the Grateful Dead as our Artist of the Month, celebrating their enormous impact on bluegrass and roots music over the next few weeks.

To kick off our coverage, BGS contributor Garret Woodward pens a heartfelt and personal AOTM reveal. Plus, don’t miss our exhaustive Essential Grateful Dead Playlist below.)

The single most profound moment within my 39 years of existence (thus far) is the first time I heard the Grateful Dead. Not far behind that life-altering experience were my initial encounter with LSD (in high school) and finally cracking open Jack Kerouac’s seminal 1957 novel, On the Road (in college).

Summer 1994. I was nine years old and living a simple, yet happily mischievous childhood in the small North Country community of Rouses Point, New York. One mile from the Canadian Border. One mile from the state line of Vermont. Solitude. Desolation. Rural America. Mornings spent building tree forts and wandering vast cornfields surrounding my childhood home. Afternoons jumping off the dock into nearby Lake Champlain.

Even at that time, I was a bona fide music freak. Whether it was Top 40 radio (Gin Blossoms, Melissa Etheridge, Collective Soul, Sheryl Crow) blasting out of the small boom box in my bedroom or whatever my parents shoved into the cassette deck in the family minivan (Willie Nelson, Beatles, Rolling Stones, Nat King Cole, George Jones), I was in search of “the sound.”

But, everything in my existence changed one evening that summer at a family cookout at our camp on the lake. Sitting at the picnic table — chowing down on some burgers, beans and potato salad — I noticed a hat my aunt’s boyfriend was wearing. The logo on the front was of a dancing bear, with the back featuring a skull with a lightning bolt. I inquired.

“It’s the Grateful Dead,” he replied with a Cheshire Cat grin emerging from a bushy beard. “Have you ever listened to the Dead, man?” No, I replied. After dinner, he walked me over to his early 1990s Volkswagen Jetta. He hopped in, rolled the windows down and turned on the stereo. Again, with a grin, as if he knew what was going to happen once he pressed play and cranked the volume.

It was the Skeletons from the Closet album. The opening tune, “The Golden Road (To Unlimited Devotion),” hit me like an undulating series of waves in some endless ocean of melodic tones and lyrical truths. It was just like when Dorothy Gale entered the world of color in The Wizard of Oz.

Nothing really was ever the same after that moment. It was not only the first music I’d discovered on my own – without the radio or my parents’ influence – the Dead, for some unexplained reason at the time, immediately became “my band.” Something clicked deeply inside of me. I awoke. And I had arrived.

Soon, a seismic shift occurred in my adolescent life. I wore Dead shirts to my Catholic elementary school to the dismay of the nuns. Tacked up Jerry Garcia posters on my bedroom wall. The swirling sensation of “Sugar Magnolia” or “St. Stephen” echoing from the boom-box. Incense burning on the windowsill overlooking the cornfields and unknown horizon of my intent. I even had a small shrine to Jerry on my bookshelf for several years after he died. I was all-in.

Musically, the Dead were a bunch of incredibly talented bluegrass, folk, and jazz freaks, who were inspired by the onslaught of the Beatles to plug in and go electric. The band itself was this massive sponge, one which soaked in any and all influences it crossed paths with — either onstage or merely wandering down the road of life. That authentic sense of curiosity and discovery is key to the Dead’s magic throughout its decades of improvisational splendor.

At its core, the Dead’s message resonated within my often-bullied and ignored self as a kid. If you like the Dead, you’ll always find a friend out there in the universe to connect with. The band’s symbols are beacons of love, compassion, and acceptance once you walk out the front door. In essence, I’d found my tribe, this wild-‘n’-wondrous ensemble of loving oddballs, eccentric weirdos, and all-around jovial folk. My kind of people, who remain so to this day.

The Dead is about personal freedom. To not only be yourself, but to also seek out the intrinsic beauty of people, places and things in this big ol’ world of ours. Have adventures. Pursue wisdom. Radiate love. Be kind. Damnit, be kind. All of these things offered from the music and its followers were placed in my emotional and spiritual toolbox as I began to wander the planet on my own following high school, college and impending adulthood.

And here I stand. Age 39. That nine-year-old discovering the Dead is still inside of me somewhere, still burning incense and blasting “St. Stephen.” That youngster’s excitement for all things music (especially live), endless curiosity for what lies just around the corner, and running with a reckless abandon towards the unknowns of tomorrow are as strong and vibrant as ever — especially through this ongoing catalyst that is my career in the written word.

Case in point, I recently headed to the Bluegrass Music Hall of Fame & Museum in Owensboro, Kentucky, for another celebratory weekend for its current exhibit: “Jerry Garcia: A Bluegrass Journey,” on assignment and on the ground covering the festivities. An incredibly curated collection of rare Garcia artifacts and wisdom, the showcase will run onsite until next spring.

Before the inception of the Grateful Dead, Garcia was completely immersed in the bluegrass and folk scenes in the San Francisco Bay area in the late 1950s and early 1960s. He was part of numerous acoustic acts and ensembles throughout the bountiful period — the culmination of that vast knowledge and in-depth experience being poured into the Dead’s formation in 1965.

To note, there’s a lot to be said about Garcia’s talents on the banjo being applied to what would become his signature tone on the electric guitar. And to that notion, add in the sheer lyrical aptitude of Robert Hunter, who not only penned many of the Dead’s iconic melodies, but was also on a parallel journey to Garcia’s early on and throughout the band’s 30-year trajectory.

And there I was in Owensboro, some 400 miles from my current home in Western North Carolina. Traveling for hours just to arrive on the mighty Ohio River – the state line of Kentucky and Indiana, this crossroads of the Southeast and Midwest. And for what? To push further and farther down the cosmic rabbit hole that is Jerry Garcia, the Grateful Dead, and those who follow.

The next 48 hours were a whirlwind of sound and scope. Seemingly endless tribute sets to Garcia and the Dead at the Woodward Theater inside the museum from the Kitchen Dwellers, Lindsay Lou, Fireside Collective, and members of the Infamous Stringdusters to late-night jam sessions in hotel rooms next door.

The Grateful Dead are arguably the only musical entity to exist that – regardless of who or what genre is being represented – once one of their tunes is placed into a performance, folks either show up in droves or are already present with ears perked up to what’s radiating out from the stage. It’s a fact that no matter what style of music you play, if it involves the Dead in some form or fashion, Deadheads are game to check it out. You could be a polka group and we’ll be right there, standing front row, the second you roll into “Althea” or “Shakedown Street.” The music provides, always and forever.

Before I left Owensboro and the Garcia celebration at the museum, I found myself on a bourbon distillery tour on Saturday afternoon. I walked into the enormous facility and checked in with the host. All by myself and waiting for the tour to start, the host tapped me on the shoulder.

“You like the Dead?” his face lit up, pointing to the Dead stealie tattoo on the back of my right leg. “Sure do, my brother,” I shot back with a smile of solidarity. We talked about our favorite live Dead recordings and where we’ve caught Dead & Company in concert recently, kindred spirits now eternally connected by this band of roving musical pirates. It’s a genuine interaction that happens often to Deadheads and something I don’t ever take for granted.

Even as we stand in this uncertain time in American history – where nothing is the same, everything is the same – the Grateful Dead remain this portal to escape, to purposely choose compassion, camaraderie, and community. It’s about cultivation of one’s self and of the sheer magnitude and gratitude of daily life, so long as you stroll this earth with the pure and honest intent to connect, to listen, and to understand.

“I will get by, I will survive.”

 

MIXTAPE: Rebecca Frazier Celebrates the Here and Now

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

I’m honored to create a playlist for BGS. I’ll share a Mixtape inspired by the theme of time and celebrating the here and now. I grew up in Virginia by the water and my musical life has been influenced by the seasons and the tides. Life (so far) has been a counterpoint of going with my gut and enjoying the moment while also considering intention and the bigger picture. But I’ve learned that I am more in touch with myself as an artist when I can remain in the present. The songs I’ve selected tend to resonate with my intuitive sense of joy and unconditional love – that deeply rooted part of ourselves that is free and unburdened.

It’s celebratory for me to share two tracks from my new album, Boarding Windows in Paradise, out now via Compass Records. Produced by Bill Wolf – who’s known for his work with Tony Rice and Grateful Dead – the album features the talents of Béla Fleck, Sam Bush, Stuart Duncan, Barry Bales, Ron Block, and a constellation of other bluegrass stars. The writing and recording process for the album brought me to a place of learning to create my own paradise through daily intention and action, and I’m grateful for this experience. – Rebecca Frazier

“High Country Road Trip” – Rebecca Frazier

I grew up on the water, so I love going with the flow and being taken for a ride. But I’ve got that philosophical side, where I’m also asking, “Where is this leading?” This song is meant to capture that moment of joy somewhere in the middle; that elevated feeling of loving the lightness of not knowing what’s around the bend and not necessarily trying to create a specific outcome.

“It’s a Great Day to Be Alive” – Darrell Scott

This song brings back great memories of living in Colorado and seeing Darrell Scott singing this one at music festivals out west. His song quickly became an anthem for savoring the present: “It’s a great day to be alive, the sun’s still shining when I close my eyes.”

“Sailin’ Shoes” – Sam Bush

This one is another anthem on the bluegrass festival scene. It’s about cutting loose and feeling liberated. When Sam Bush goes into his signature chop to kick it off, fans start to cheer like wild and dance in recognition. The freeing and soaring feeling of sailing – we definitely feel that when John Cowan joins in with his soaring vocals. As the lyric expresses, “Everyone will clap and cheer when you put on your sailing shoes…” Sam sings and plays it with abandon and you can’t help it but smile (or dance!) when you listen to this classic Little Feat cover.

“All I Want” – Joni Mitchell

“Applause applause, life is our cause.” Joni’s lyric speaks volumes about her expression of letting go. She sings about that feeling of dancing and unleashing herself in a dive bar, falling in love, and letting the best in herself emerge by forgetting about herself for a moment. “I want to have fun, I want to shine like the sun… I want to make you feel free.”

“Time in a Bottle” – Jim Croce

“I’d save every day like a treasure and then, again I would spend them with you.” This classic is a poignant reminder about the essence of time and what seems to have mattered most at the end. Croce sings about savoring time with a loved one and realizing that the metaphorical box of wishes and dreams can only be answered by memories of time spent with a loved one.

“Nick Of Time” – Bonnie Raitt

This song brings back powerful memories from the ’90s, when Bonnie Raitt received well-deserved acclaim as an artist after years of hard work as a blues musician. The message of time passing and realizing that we have almost missed a great life experience-but found that fruition in the nick of time-resonated with a wider audience. Her relaxed and soulful vocals portray the hopeful message in a calming way.

“Days Like This” – Van Morrison

In his relaxed and soulful way, Morrison sings about those rare worry-free days when the pieces effortlessly come together in a satisfying way: “When all the parts of the puzzle start to look like they fit, there’ll be days like this.”

“Cat’s in the Cradle” – Harry Chapin

This classic may be a tear-jerker, but it’s also a celebration of time. We’re reminded by Chapin to spend meaningful time with our loved ones now and not to wait for a speculative future time when our “schedule” is free. The lasting image of an adult son who’s now too busy for his dad – after spending years as a small child asking his dad to spend time together – is a powerful reminder about life’s priorities.

“Thunderclouds Of Love” – Tony Rice

Classic, powerful Tony Rice at his finest. This description of a thunderbolt moment can light up any heart, and Tony’s guitar solo takes us there with flashy, bluesy fireworks. Jimmy Headrick’s lyrics set the scene for Tony’s soulful and punchy baritone vocals: “I have been praying four nights on end for someone who could make me live again, and all at once from the darkness of my heart they came to light.”

“Alabama Pines” – Jason Isbell

This one snuck onto this list, because it always brings me into the present moment. Isbell’s writing and singing is just that good. Whatever you were thinking about or worrying about, it all tends to go out the window. Suddenly you’re driving in Alabama and seeing all of the imagery he describes, feeling all of the emotions he expresses.

“Help Me Make It Through the Night” – Kris Kristofferson

Kristofferson’s is my favorite version of this classic and I’ll admit that he also happens to be my celebrity crush. While he’s portraying relishing this moment, this night, I think many women are wondering if he really needs to ask for help with that cause? In all seriousness, he does pull us into the present with his poignant lyric: “Yesterday is dead and gone, and tomorrow’s out of sight.”

“Duck’s Eye” – Charles Butler

Banjoist Charles Butler is one of my favorite composers and this tune pulls me into an effortless feeling of gliding over an oceanic vastness. The call and response melodies bring the listener into a trance-like state, and the simple melody pulls the listener to that perfectly placed “eye” of the composition, echoing the David Lynch reference of Butler’s inspiration.

“Make Hay While the Moon Shines” – Rebecca Frazier

When I wrote this song with Bob Minner and Jon Weisberger, we wanted to express the feeling of unleashing ourselves and savoring the moment once the moon rises. We’ve all been told to “make hay while the sun shines,” but it’s just as important to put down our work and allow ourselves to be free and true to our inner selves.

Photo Credit: Scott Simontacchi

Bonny Light Horseman In Conversation – With Each Other

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

(Editor’s Note: To mark the occasion of Bonny Light Horseman’s brand new double LP, Keep Me On Your Mind/See You Free – which were released in June – we invite our readers to be as flies on the wall during a special exclusive interview, an entertaining and joyful conversation between the members of this folk supergroup, Eric D. Johnson, Josh Kaufman, and Anaïs Mitchell. 

Read about the band’s memories of their first gigs played for money, about popular bands they don’t really “get,” and so much more below. Plus, dig into their deep and broad discography – together and separately – with our in-depth exploration of their catalog of recordings here.)

Eric D. Johnson:  We totally love each other a lot and we spend a lot of time together and we talk about everything, and I know everything about you guys, pretty much. I got some deep shit on you guys!

But, one question that I didn’t know the answer to, because I have a really funny answer for it is, what was the first show that you ever played where you got paid money? Do you remember? 

Anaïs Mitchell: Oh wow!

EDJ: Can you guys remember that? 

Josh Kaufman: I can remember. I don’t know if it was the very first, but it was certainly early. I played a yogurt shop in Port Jeff. I definitely played a lot of Grateful Dead songs. I think I played “Peggy-O” and like “Friend of the Devil.” I may have tried an ambitious solo acoustic version of “St. Stephen.”

EDJ: Tell me more though, was it a band? Was it you solo? And did you go just under the name Josh Kaufman? 

JK: Just me. I don’t know if I was even booked. I don’t know. I may have just shown up. 

EDJ: And what was the yogurt shop?

JK: I can’t remember the name of it either. I feel like I have a couple of friends that definitely would remember and definitely were there. That was the ‘90s, that was the era of the yogurt shop. It was basically a cafe, but let’s face it, it was a yogurt shop. I don’t know what I got paid, but I did get paid. I was probably 16; at a yogurt shop playing Grateful Dead songs for money. 

AM: I want to see you then, Josh! 

EDJ: I totally want to see him! I want to find the bootleg of that show. How did you get hooked up with the yogurt gig? 

JK: Well, I was kind of in bed with big yogurt–

EDJ: You’re a big deal going way back–

JK: Going way back now! Well, how did I know about [it]? I think my friend Kevin Jones worked there. I think this is what happened. My friend Kevin Jones worked there, who you guys will meet when we play in California, because he just moved to the Bay Area. He’s going to come to our show. I think they were looking to up their game [at the yogurt shop]. And he was like, “Let’s see what happens. Let’s bring in a professional.” It must have been such a hot mess. 

EDJ: I bet you were good from the jump. That’s my guess. 

JK: That’s generous. 

EDJ: Anaïs, what about you?

AM: I think the first time I made money for music was [when I was] 18 years old and I took a gap year. I was going to go to school, but I took a gap year and then I moved to Boston. You guys know this. I know you know this about me. 

JK: You were a waitress. 

AM: I was a waitress. Right. At this diner and then later as a waitress at this Cajun/Mexican place, which really sucked. It was in Central Square and I remember I had that job, because I quit it when I realized that I could make money playing in the subway. I could make equal money to what I made as a waitress. Basically, I would go down – I want to say that I played an Ovation Guitar. I’m sorry. [Laughs]

EDJ: Classic! Love this. I’m just gonna say: Ovation Guitar; yogurt shop. Just as visuals. 

AM: Totally. [Laughs] I love this. They go together. 

JK: You can actually eat yogurt out of an Ovation Guitar. 

EDJ: They are designed for eating yogurt out of – in the ‘90s!

AM: I had a little portable [amp], my first amp. I just started playing electric on tour with you guys, but that’s not my first amp. My first amp was a little Crate amp. Do you know what those are? It was bright yellow. And it was cool. For plugging in your Ovation Guitar when you played in the subway, they were amazing.

So I did that. And the cool thing was I was really just getting going. I had written maybe a handful of songs – that I’ve repressed [since]. Like they were really not good, but if you’re playing in the subway, the audience turns over every 10 minutes. I played the same songs. I would just play them again and again. It was mostly my new songs that I had written. And I think I played a couple of folk songs that I learned from the Rise Up Singing folk music bible. 

EDJ: But were people like throwing in money? What was your haul? Not because I care that much about money, but I’m just asking, is this your first profesh gig? Do you have your case? Do you have a little hat box?

AM: You got your case open and you put a couple dollars in there. You put like a five [dollar bill] to show people that. You don’t put coins, because then that’s what people put. I actually can’t remember,  with inflation, like, what was that? I want to say I would go down there for  an hour or two and make fifty to a hundred bucks. 

JK: Oh, that’s really good. That sounds really good to me. 

AM: That’s why I quit my waitressing job! I was like, this sucks. I’m just gonna do this. 

EDJ: You’re 18, what is that, the year 2000? 

AM: Or something… it was ‘99. Yes.

EDJ: Okay, sick. With inflation, I think that’s good. I think you did really well

AM: I might be misremembering, might be adjusting for inflation [wrong] in my memory. 

JK: I think I got paid, by the yogurt shop, like $46 or something like that, which when I think about it now it’s almost like the tooth fairy or something. I think somebody just felt bad for me. They’re like, “This is 36, 46 bucks, just take it, go.” You know that, “Here’s some gas money.” 

EDJ: I like that it was $46. 

JK: I don’t think it was $50. I think I’d remember it if it was $50. That would have seemed like a lot of money to me. I will say, the guitar I was playing, Eric, and Anaïs, would have been the same guitar that I still play – the Guild that we made our records with and that Eric played on our recent tour.

AM: I spent some time with that guy.

Eric, I want to hear your story. 

EDJ: I got you gonna beat financially by a couple bucks. When I was like 17, my friend Steve and I decided I was going to join Steve’s band just as a singer, but I was too scared to just sing and stand there. I did not know how to play guitar. So, I got a crash course in guitar from Steve. Steve came to one of our shows last summer, I think, or two summers ago when we opened up for [Bruce] Hornsby.

Steve gave me a crash course in guitar, but I didn’t really know how to apply guitar chords to cover songs, you know? I was like, “I guess I’m going to have to write.” I immediately became a songwriter, because I was too dumb to learn how to play a Pink Floyd song or something like that. 

All of a sudden we became this folk duo that played a mix of covers and originals, as I was learning chords. I learned how to play some covers. I think “Ripple” by the Grateful Dead was the first – speaking of Grateful Dead, Josh. We played at this cafe in our little downtown of our funny little suburb called Caffe Trieste. It was actually really cool. It was very ‘90s. When I remember it, it smelled like clove cigarettes in there and herbal tea. It was literally a coffee house, like from the old times where you smoke cigarettes and drink coffee at night and watch music. I’m not saying it was like Greenwich Village or something like that, but it was cool.

We would play there, but for no money. That was kind of like open mics and stuff like that. We played “Tangerine” by Led Zeppelin and we played “Ripple” by the Grateful Dead. I think we played “Wish You Were Here.” And then we played sort of a smattering of my originals, which were terrible. 

But, I was at home [one day] and this is in 1993. My mom was like, “You have a phone call.” And it was some lady and she says, “My daughter, Katie, she’s turning fourteen and she’s a huge fan of your music. And will you play her birthday party?” And I was like, “What?” We don’t have a band or like fans or anything like that. But apparently this girl had seen us at a school assembly – where all we played was the Cheers theme – and she’s turning fourteen. I was like, “What type of money do you usually get for things like this?” But I sort of fumbled and before I could finish and name a price, she was like, “Would $150 be good?”

That was like an unfathomable amount of money. But she also wanted us to play two sets and play for like literally two hours in their living room. We had about 20 minutes worth of material.We went to the house. Her dad owned an automobile dealership, so the house was nice. It was a room full of thirteen and fourteen year old, she was a freshman and we were seniors. I just remember that. So maybe she was turning fifteen.

When we walked in, it was like Beatlemania. They like, screamed and stuff. There were parents, friends, and stuff who were there and they were kind of these wealthy people. My house was very unsophisticated and it felt like we had sort of stepped into this sophisticated realm of our like dumb little suburb. These were the elites! We played our show, only we had not learned more songs in order to play. So we did the Anaïs thing, but without the audience turnover. We just played things over again. And they asked us to play “Rocky Raccoon” by the Beatles. Then there was a set break and we had no more songs. We went out to Steve’s Jeep and got super high and then came back in and just played literally the same set again and doubled up on “Rocky Raccoon.” We played it four times in one night.

Anaïs Mitchell: What were you wearing? Did you dress up? 

EDJ: I’m sure I was wearing something weird. I had a very schizophrenic style at the time. It was the ‘90s! I would wear plaid ‘60s golf pants, but I had this shirt that was a bread truck delivery shirt that had the name “Byron” on it like a name tag. My hair looked like Jason Priestley from 90210. I hadn’t honed my style yet, but I’m sure I just tried to dress up cool.

It was quite a first taste. 

AM: That’s amazing. You might be the only band to play “Rocky Raccoon” four times in a show. 

JK: The Beatles never played it one time in a show, I don’t think. So you beat the Beatles.

EDJ: Someone asked me this question recently – and you don’t have to answer with a modern band, because it could be more controversial – but what’s a band that’s iconic, that people love, that you’re like, “Not that…”

JK: Oh, Annie has a list of these they’re called like, unimpeachable bands that she doesn’t want to listen to. That she wants to impeach. 

AM: I want to know her list! 

JK: For instance, I think the Stones are on there. She’s like, “I mean, sure, the Stones are great or whatever, but I don’t want to listen to them.”

EDJ: For the Situation readers, by the way, this is Annie, Josh’s wife [we’re talking about]. Annie Nero.

JK: Yeah! But, for my own… let me think about that for a second. 

AM: I have one, maybe. Maybe it’s going to be the same. 

EDJ: Mine’s a little bit The Smiths – I actually think that the band sounds great. It’s sort of like The Doors, for me, where I’m not as into the front person [as I am the band], and I have to believe in the front person.

My other one is that I love Bob Dylan, but he’s like my 18th favorite songwriter. It’s still really high up there in the pantheon of songwriters, but probably a very low ranking as far as Dylan goes. I know Dylan’s a big one for you, Josh, but for me I have seventeen others I put above him. That’s an arbitrary number, but yeah. 

AM: I was gonna say Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young. I’d be interested in hearing Annie’s whole list, ’cause I do wanna say, I feel like it’s a gendered thing. I’m not even gonna be eloquent about it, but I do think we have deified certain male artisan bands. 

Where it’s like, “Aren’t you into this?” And I’m like, “Actually no.” But I sort of feel like they’re unimpeachable. Like I’m supposed to be like, “Oh yeah, CSNY!!” But my feelings are complex about CSNY, because I love Neil Young and I love Graham Nash. I think it’s really David Crosby – rest in peace – that like, for somehow I’m [hung up on]. I read about how he produced the first Joni Mitchell record and, for me, Joni’s like the top of the totem. Reading about their dynamic, back in the day [is troubling.]

Everyone loved Crosby. She had to kind of be like, “Oh my God, it’s Cros!” You know, but she was Joni Mitchell! I couldn’t really feel that stuff. Yeah, that’s gonna be my band. It’s frustrating. 

Sorry, we canceled. [Laughs]

EDJ: No, I think CSNY is a reasonable one!

JK: I was gonna say The Who, honestly. The Who are awesome and everything and certainly there’s ‘60s garage [rock] stuff that’s fun and everything. 

EDJ: I think it’s okay to throw fire at those guys. Dylan can take it and be pissed. They can fucking take it!

JK: I guess I feel like that’s lazy of me. 

I think Anaïs’ comment about this sort of Mount Rushmore of at the time, early 20s baby boomer white men [was well made]. When they were very young with guitars, for some reason, we’ve decided that those guys are the best.

EDJ: It’s like the Rolling Stone magazine “top 40 cool guys” list. It’s like a mural at a guitar center in suburban Atlanta that you stopped at on tour.

But also Anaïs, sidebar, in my seventeen songwriters above Dylan, Joni Mitchell is my number one, so…

JK: She’s at the top of my list for sure, but I think in the top zone. I don’t know if they’re like tiered necessarily, because since it is art and stuff, it does sort of depend on the opening that I have for it on any given day to enter my heart.

AM: I got a couple more. You guys, this is going to be wild. Well, maybe not. I mean, you guys know me pretty well, because it’s some of these things, the music is undeniable and has shaped other music, but it’s not for me, you know? I would put the Beatles in that category.

JK:  I was waiting for you to say that!

AM: I would put both [CSNY and the Beatles] in there. And I sort of appreciate it when I hear it. Like when I hear it coming out of someone’s car or on the radio or whatever, but I will never put that music on myself. 

EDJ: I feel like with Beatles, if it didn’t catch you at a certain moment it’s a tough, massive thing to dig into. I didn’t get into Joni until I was 30, and it was like one of the pivotal musical moments of my life.

That’s not to say, “I think you have to be 38 to get into Joni,” but I think for whatever reason, she’s so deep and cool and crazy that I think it took me having a little life behind me to sort of understand what it was about. Someone who had seen clouds from both sides now, like at that point, it hit me like super hard.

I think Beatles, talk about iconography and stuff like that! It’s like, I totally get it. But I can’t. I love the Beatles. It exists in my musical and our band’s musical DNA. I’m never not thinking about like a McCartney melody.

AM: I had some grand thought while you were just saying that, about when you encounter music and when it speaks to you. Because yes, if you’re fourteen, if you’re fifteen discovering Ani DiFranco as I was. She became like my whole raison d’etre, but then for someone discovering her later, at a different time in their life or whatever, it’s different. You had to be a certain age to get the Joni. 

And, I wanted to talk about the Grateful Dead because, like the Beatles, I might’ve put them in [this category] if we had spoken a different time, but now I know and love you guys. I sort of became like a late-blooming deadhead, because of your love for the dead. I really got into it and  really into the lyrics. I genuinely, really appreciate that music now, in a way that I didn’t like, ten years ago. Part of that is because I love you guys.

I kind of love how your love for people then transfers to your love for the things that they love. And that then becomes a thing that you love. 

JK: I totally feel that. I’m not going to name any names here, because I feel like it could be misconstrued, but I do feel like I remember early on going out and opening up for bands with friends and at the beginning of it having already made up my mind about this music or something. But then, getting to know these people intimately over the course of a month and having these accelerated friendships as a result of being around each other every day and sort of falling for what they’re doing a little bit. Or maybe, at least being way more open to it than I ever would have been just hearing it on the radio or hearing it in a friend’s car.

So much music [from] growing up I associate with people that I love, for sure. Getting into Bob Dylan ‘cause I love my dad. At a young age like, “This guy’s obsessed with this guy!” And I guess I’m kind of obsessed with this guy who’s into this guy. 

A funny one for me is They Might Be Giants. I love the songwriting of They Might Be Giants and I love that band so much, but I wouldn’t expect one of you guys to get into it now if you weren’t into it when you were fourteen. You know what I mean? 

EDJ: I love the point you made Josh, about touring with bands or something, especially in the indie rock days, where you’re really like up in each other’s grills. You bond in a kind of a different way. …

You guys, we have four minutes left. What are your top three favorite foods, Josh. 

JK: My top three favorite foods, um… Today I would say, I like Szechuan Chinese food. I like Greek food. And I like Italian food. You know, all the classic Northern Italian things and all the Roman pasta stuff. I mean, who am I kidding, right? 

I’m going genres, not dishes, because for me, it’s definitely more about a palette than it is about a specific [dish]. You know, grilled fish and lemon and tomatoes and cucumbers. If I want something in that zone, then I want Greek food. If I want spicy, zingy Szechuan peppercorn, it doesn’t really matter what it is, it could be like shrimp or tofu or chicken, or it could just be string beans. I just get in the mood and go in that direction. 

EDJ: Anaïs, what do you got? 

AM: I just got so hungry when you described the fish with the lemon and then the tomatoes, Josh. Now that’s what I want. All right. The first thing I’m going to say is Josh’s food. I want not what you just said, but food that Josh Kaufman cooks. I would like the fluffy eggs that you make sometimes. And also one time you whipped up a chicken soup. Do you remember that? You just whipped it up so fast and it was the best chicken soup I’ve ever had. 

JK: Oh, I love that. That’s so sweet. I love cooking for you guys.

AM:  I also love and I recently had– do you remember the place Wang’s in Park Slope? It’s kind of like fried chicken, Southern stuff, but then also is it Korean? 

JK: Korean fried chicken? I think, right?

AM: I had something like that with Ramona, my older daughter recently, and I was like, “Oh my God, this is very delicious.”

Eric, you tell us yours. 

EDJ: Oysters, shrimp cocktail, nachos… uh, buffalo wings. And that’s it. Love you guys.

AM: Love you. 

EDJ: Love you. Hopefully it’s all turned out awesome and we have so many cool things to talk about. I’ll see yous on Thursday night!

JK: I love you guys so much. 

Photo Credit: Jay Sansone.

The Travis Book Happy Hour: Trey Hensley

Posted on by Shelby Williamson

Trey Hensley is simply the most ferocious acoustic guitar player I’ve ever encountered. His attack and control of the guitar is unrivaled and left me in awe. He is, however, also just about as kind and as humble as an East Tennessee man can be. I had a great time playing music with and getting to know more about this musical titan and I’m really happy to make this podcast available.

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This episode was recorded live at 185 King Street in Brevard, North Carolina on November 14, 2023.

Timestamps:

0:06 – Soundbyte
0:21 – Introduction
1:25 – Show introduction by Bill K.
2:14 – “Can’t Outrun the Blues”
6:00 – “Can’t Judge a Book”
9:48 – “Brown Eyed Women”
13:40 – Story about “Brown Eyed Women”
15:20 – “Backstreets Off Broadway”
18:15 – Interview w/ Trey
48:40 – “Hold Whatcha Got”
51:30 – “Mama Tried”
53:50 – Outro

Editor’s Note: The Travis Book Happy Hour is hosted by Travis Book of the GRAMMY Award-winning band, The Infamous Stringdusters. The show’s focus is musical collaboration and conversation around matters of being. The podcast includes highlights from Travis’s interviews and music from each live show recorded in Asheville and Brevard, North Carolina.

The Travis Book Happy Hour is brought to you by Thompson Guitars and is presented by Americana Vibes and The Bluegrass Situation as part of the BGS Podcast Network. You can find the Travis Book Happy Hour on Instagram and Facebook and online at thetravisbookhappyhour.com.

Photo Credit: Jeff Fasano

Basic Folk: Steve Poltz

Posted on by Shelby Williamson

If you’re looking for recommendations for desserts, might I suggest asking folk music and comedy savant Steve Poltz? This man loves gluten and carb-heavy sweets. He also loves collaborations, camaraderie, creativity and using humor in music. It all began for Poltz – or Poltzy as his friends call him – in his birthplace of Halifax, Nova Scotia, making him an official Canadian. He spent his formative years in Palm Springs and Los Angeles where due to his stutter, allergies, and asthma, he learned to talk fast to get himself out of trouble. His sense of humor was cultivated in part by his funny parents as well as radio and television. He was particularly taken with The Smothers Brothers, Laugh-In, and the novelty songs he heard on Dr. Demento’s radio program, which solidified his own aspirations for being silly as hell in his own writing. Along the way, he picked up the guitar at six years old and it’s been by his side ever since.

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After he moved to San Diego to attend college in the ’80s, he formed the cow-punk band The Rugburns with Robert Driscoll. The group, which Steve has described as “really slow speed metal,” developed a cult following across the U.S. in the early ’90s. It was at that time when Poltz met Jewel, who was a struggling musician in the San Diego scene. The two dated (they remain friends to this day) and ended up co-writing one of the biggest songs of the ’90s with “You Were Meant For Me.” After a brush with a major label (thanks to all the Jewel stuff), he remained an independent artist who developed a reputation for a singular live performance experience.

In 2014, he actually had a stroke onstage, which temporarily caused him to lose his vision, his ability to read, and also gave him a new outlook on life. Also: post-stroke, he found a late-in-life obsession with the Grateful Dead. In 2016 he and his wife, Sharon, moved to Nashville, where he discovered that he actually does like the Nashville co-writing thing. He’s written songs with people like Molly Tuttle and Billy Strings. His friend Oliver Wood (The Wood Brothers) produced his most recent record, Stardust and Satellites. Here’s to Steve Poltz!

Photo Credit: Jeff Faisano

New Exhibit, “Jerry Garcia: A Bluegrass Journey,” Opens at Bluegrass Hall of Fame

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Although it will be showcased for the next two years, the recent grand opening celebration of the “Jerry Garcia: A Bluegrass Journey” exhibition at the Bluegrass Music Hall of Fame & Museum will go down as not only a monumental gathering of musical legends, but also an unforgettable moment in time for all involved.

“This exhibit is coinciding at a great moment for bluegrass,” says Carly Smith, museum curator. “[Jerry] funneled so many people to [bluegrass]. And a lot of present day artists — Billy Strings, Molly Tuttle — are incorporating Jerry’s style into what they’re playing.”

Located in downtown Owensboro, Kentucky, along the mighty Ohio River, the Bluegrass Hall of Fame has created an incredibly impressive and intricate ode to Garcia and his undying love of the “high, lonesome sound,” demonstrating how his indelible fingerprint on the genre is still clearly visible in this current high-water mark moment for bluegrass.

Known as one of the finest electric guitarists to ever pick up the six-string instrument, Garcia, who passed in 1995, is eternally known as the de facto leader and musical zeitgeist at the helm of the Grateful Dead. And yet, the foundation of Garcia’s playing and skillset lies in American roots music — folk, blues, and bluegrass.

Photo by Chris Stegner, courtesy of the Bluegrass Music Hall of Fame & Museum.

The exhibit weaves through Garcia’s early years as a folk musician in the 1950s, his lifelong friendship with musician/lyricist Robert Hunter, his time in a slew of acoustic outfits in the 1960s – including Mother McCree’s Uptown Jug Champions (an early footprint of the Dead) – as well as a keen focus on Garcia’s work in Old & In the Way and New Riders of the Purple Sage.

“I cried through the entire [opening weekend] press conference,” Cliff Seltzer, the exhibit’s creative director, says in a humbled tone. “I’ve been trying to keep my composure for this weekend because it’s overwhelming.”

For Seltzer, the journey to the opening weekend has been five years in the making. A well-known former artist manager, Seltzer was touring the museum in 2019 with one of his friends and clients, Vince Herman of Leftover Salmon. With curator Smith guiding the duo through the building, the group started kicking around ideas for what to put in a then-empty gallery portion of the second floor.

Photo by Chris Stegner, courtesy of the Bluegrass Music Hall of Fame & Museum.

“We’ve always talked about a Jerry Garcia exhibit, and it just kind of snowballed from there,” Smith says. “And it was very unexpected how open Jerry’s family was with [helping] us. What I’ve learned over the last two years, really working with them, is that bluegrass was part of [Jerry] — that’s what he was doing when he wasn’t on the road, that’s what he did at home.”

For the better part of the last half-decade, Smith, Seltzer and a small crew of folks roamed America, not only in search of Garcia artifacts to display (instruments, photographs, family heirlooms), but also numerous interviews with some of the biggest names in bluegrass to share in the exhibit — each talking at-length about Garcia’s cosmic lore, larger-than-life legends, and lasting legacy.

“Every genre of music has to morph and change. New people enter the fold and introduce new things,” Seltzer said. “With Billy [Strings], Molly Tuttle, Sierra Ferrell, and others, bluegrass is bigger [now] than it’s ever been — it’s only going to continue to grow.”

David Nelson joined by Sam Grisman, Ronnie McCoury, and Jason Carter on stage at the Bluegrass Hall of Fame. Photo by Emma McCoury.

Way before the Dead — before any of the melodic chaos and intrinsic beauty of what that band created onstage any given night for its 30-year tenure — there was Garcia himself, simply a huge bluegrass freak who, perhaps someday, would become a member of Bill Monroe & The Blue Grass Boys.

And although Garcia would eventually swerve into the electric sounds of rock and roll and blues, he was never too far from bluegrass. There were always side projects and low-key jam sessions with a bevy of acoustic musicians throughout the early years of the Dead in the 1960s and 1970s.

Most notable of those collaborations was with mandolin virtuoso David Grisman. Through Grisman, Garcia met guitarist Peter Rowan in 1972. A former member of Monroe’s Blue Grass Boys, Rowan found a kindred spirit — in sound and in attitude — with Garcia. The kismet trio would jam often at Garcia’s Stinson Beach, California, home, with Garcia plucking his trusty banjo.

“We started picking every night after supper [at Jerry’s],” Rowan says. “We went through old song books and learned a bunch of material. I remember singing ‘Land of the Navajo’ and looking at Jerry like, ‘This is really weird, isn’t it?’ He goes, ‘Keep going, man.’”

Peter Rowan speaks as Heaven McCoury looks on during the exhibition opening weekend festivities. Photo by Chris Stegner.

What was birthed from those happenstance pickin’ and grinnin’ sessions became bluegrass super group Old & In the Way. Like a shooting star in the tranquil night sky, the band — featuring Garcia, Rowan, Grisman, bassist John Kahn, and a revolving cast of fiddlers (Richard Greene, John Hartford, Vassar Clements) — would only last the better part of two years (1973-1974).

But, in it remains one of the most important and groundbreaking acts to ever emerge in the bluegrass scene. To note, Old & In the Way’s 1975 self-titled debut album went on to become the bestselling bluegrass album of all-time – until it was dethroned by the O Brother, Where Art Thou? soundtrack released in 2000.

Maria Muldaur performs. Photo by Chris Stegner.

Alongside an onslaught of beautifully touching performances (Leftover Salmon, Maria Muldaur, Jim Lauderdale, Kyle Tuttle, Peter Rowan, Ronnie McCoury, Sam Grisman Project) and poignant gatherings of artists and music lovers throughout the “Jerry Garcia: A Bluegrass Journey” opening weekend, there were also several panels taking place each day at the museum.

Of which, “Garcia: Legend & Lore of a Bluegrass Freak” featured Peter Rowan (Old & In the Way), David Nelson (New Riders of the Purple Sage), Pete Wernick (Hot Rize), Sam Grisman (son of David Grisman) and Eric Thompson (Mother McCree’s Uptown Jug Champions).

“Old & In the Way really helped everything get bigger,” Wernick says. “It was this whole group of material that means so much to all of us in the bluegrass scene — it suddenly became something that people all over the world knew about.”

Greg Garrison, Ronnie McCoury, Eric Thompson, and Jason Carter perform. Photo by Chris Stegner.

Below are a few excerpts for that artist panel conversation:

Eric Thompson: I grew up in Palo Alto, California, kind of the nexus point for the folk world in the early ’60s. Joan Baez was from there. The Kingston Trio was from there. I got into the bluegrass guitar in [1961]. [Jerry] ended up there after he got thrown out of the Army. He got into all kinds of folk music and he would just devour a style. [He’d say], “Oh, I’m going to do that,” then two weeks later he’s got a whole repertoire. I was 15 years old and made friends with Jerry right away — it changed my life.

David Nelson: We’d go down to Kepler’s bookstore, which is an old hangout in Palo Alto. There was a section of it where you could get an espresso, sit down at a picnic table, and read a book. And there’s this guy [there]. It’s summer, so he’s got his shirt open and [big] hair. And he’s playing a 12-string guitar. Somebody comes up and says, “That’s Jerry Garcia.” We went over and pitched the idea [of jamming together]. Sure enough, next Tuesday night, we’re waiting and waiting. Then, all of a sudden, here comes the car and there’s Jerry coming up the stairs with a guitar and some friends. It started off a whole [jamming] thing at the Boar’s Head [Tavern], which just went on for months and years maybe. [Jerry] was interested in bluegrass banjo and I was interested in bluegrass guitar. I got me a banjo. Jerry said, “Oh, man, borrow my guitar. Can I borrow this banjo?” He happened to have a 1940 Martin D-18 [guitar].

The Sam Grisman Project – featuring Victor Furtado, Logan Ledger, and more – take a bow. Photo by Emma McCoury.

Thompson: [Jerry] brought some openness to the approach [of bluegrass music]. I know [so] many people, who are mostly not bluegrass musicians, who found out about [bluegrass] because of Old & In the Way. It was open and expressive and, at the same time, paid respect to what came before. It was this new, intelligent thing. And intelligence is what Garcia brought to the music, [as well as] imagination, articulation.

Vince Herman and Jim Lauderdale harmonize. Photo by Chris Stegner.

Get more information on “Jerry Garcia: A Bluegrass Journey” and plan your visit to the Bluegrass Music Hall of Fame & Museum here.

Photo Credit: All photos by Chris Stegner and Emma McCoury, as indicated. Courtesy of the Bluegrass Music Hall of Fame & Museum.

Handmade & Hot: The Importance of ‘The Pizza Tapes,’ 30 Years Later

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

In early 1993, David “Dawg” Grisman, Jerry Garcia, and Tony Rice gathered around a few microphones in Dawg’s Mill Valley, California recording studio. It was a casual, after-hours jam session during the recording of Tone Poems (Grisman and Rice), but engineer David Dennison kept the tapes rolling, capturing and preserving one of the most significant moments in American music history.

As a kid growing up in central Appalachia, bluegrass music was, at times, painfully familiar. In childhood memories, I’m being dragged to bluegrass concerts on the weekends by my parents, or even spotting Ralph Stanley dining at local restaurants. But these things weren’t special to a 14-year-old Gen Z, no matter the popularity of new, genre-adjacent bands like Mumford & Sons or the Lumineers.

Sometime though, in those early teenage years, I was digging through my dad’s CD collection (which in 2012, already being rendered obsolete, had been stored in a closet) when I found a copy of The Pizza Tapes. I was vaguely familiar with Jerry Garcia from his association with the Grateful Dead, and remembered seeing Tony Rice as a 7 or 8 year old kid, and despite my dad insisting how important he was, being bored out of my mind. But when I picked up the CD and turned over its pizza-themed cover (“It’s Hot!”), I recognized songs like “Man of Constant Sorrow,” “Knocking on Heaven’s Door,” and “House of the Rising Sun.” This familiarity is what put the CD in my hands, but the mandolin never left them once I heard Dawg’s playing.

The Pizza Tapes, to summarize, was an accident gone right. While these recordings may have eventually been packaged into an album, that certainly wasn’t the case when the bootleg started making the rounds. The story surrounding the tapes was practically folklore, with various narratives centered around a pizza delivery worker getting them in some way from Jerry Garcia. After Grisman’s label, Acoustic Disc, formally released the recordings in 2000 (ultimately providing access to the recordings to even more listeners) their significance in acoustic music was further embedded.

David “Dawg” Grisman, while known primarily as a mandolinist, has a reputation for recording everything, and an equally important legacy as an instigator of collaboration. His friendship with Jerry Garcia, dating back as early as 1964 (when Garcia traveled to the east coast chasing the roots of bluegrass music), led to the bay area bluegrass supergroup Old & In the Way in the early 1970s. Meanwhile in Kentucky, Tony Rice was departing from J.D. Crowe & the New South, and moving to the bay area to play Dawg’s original music – starting the group that in 1977 became known as the David Grisman Quintet.

The Pizza Tapes are special for countless reasons, but the obvious attraction is the coming together of these two legendary guitarists, highlighting the distinctness of their two original playing styles, musically glued together by Dawg, their mutual friend and collaborator. Though the two guitarists already had a large portion of their careers behind them (Rice lost his voice in ‘94, and Garcia died in ‘95), it wasn’t until February 4 and 5 of 1993 that Dawg successfully sat them down together with guitars in hand. As is the dialogue on track 3, “Appetizer:”

DG: Trip seeing you guys together, man.
TR: Shoulda happened a long time ago.
JG: This is gonna be a hoot!

While both guitarists were of obvious importance to Dawg, their influence extended far beyond his Bay Area recording studio. By the ‘90s, Tony Rice was (and had been for some time) the very definition of bluegrass guitar, with the same being true for Jerry Garcia in the jamband world. For these two genres, which had already begun to cross pollinate, this laid-back jam session was something monumental, a bridge between the musical worlds of Tony Rice and Jerry Garcia.

In a world where recorded music is continually valued by its commercial success, albums like The Pizza Tapes are a breath of fresh air the listener can always return to. There was clearly no goal of marketability or profit in mind when these three sat down to jam – the recordings are intimately casual, made clear by Garcia’s words in the first 10 seconds of the album, when they fumble the kick-off to “Man of Constant Sorrow.”

There are so many lovable moments between and during these songs – Dawg’s slightly out of tune A-strings at the end of “Man of Constant Sorrow,” Tony’s fiery but loose guitar solo on “Rosalee McFall,” or most notably, the album’s fade-out with Jerry noodling on Tony Rice’s famed “Holy Grail,” the 1935 Martin D-28 (#58957) which had previously belonged to Clarence White, another friend and collaborator of Grisman’s.

JG: Tony gets a better tone actually than Clarence did.
DG: Don’t say he’s got a better tone – he’s louder.
JG: Louder is better David – on this planet, louder’s better.
(from “House of the Rising Sun)

As I discovered the rest of Dawg’s discography, I gravitated toward the more intentional David Grisman Quintet (1977) and Home Is Where the Heart Is (1988) as a rubric for my mandolin schooling. But over a decade later, I still go back to The Pizza Tapes to be reminded of why I play the mandolin, and ultimately music. It’s not to make money or achieve popularity, but to be playful, conversational, and to above all else make good music with my friends – tenets that were all exemplified by Dawg, Tony, and Jerry on those winter nights in 1993.

 

WATCH: Jaime Wyatt, “Althea”

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Artist: Jaime Wyatt
Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee
Song: “Althea”
Album: Feel Good
Release Date: November 3, 2023
Label: New West Records

In Their Words: “In ‘Althea,’ Robert Hunter suspects betrayal, but perhaps is untrue himself. He references Shakespeare and many suspect he was referring to Jerry [Garcia’s] addiction to heroin, but I personally think it was about his own journey in learning to love.

“Thank you to LA-based director, editor, and animator Tee Vaden for bringing such beautiful images to this song. We compiled tour videos and live performances and meaningful symbols for healing and rebirth, as well as fun Grateful Dead-esque eye candy. I chose to record the Grateful Dead’s ‘Althea,’ as the song is just as true and applicable today as it was at its release in 1980.” – Jaime Wyatt

Photo Credit: Jody Domingue
Video Credit: Tee Vaden

The Travis Book Happy Hour: Cris Jacobs

Posted on by Shelby Williamson

Cris Jacobs is an enigma. The question is always “why is this guy not more famous?” Searing guitar, incredible heartfelt songwriting, genre-defying vocals, and an incredibly positive vibe and outlook; there’s really none better than Cris Jacobs. I asked him to come to Western North Carolina to do a couple shows and it just-so-happened we shared the stage the weekend prior at the Telluride Bluegrass Festival, so I was lucky to get to spend a lot of time with Cris over the course of a week. I really enjoyed the music and the interview and I’m looking forward to more music with him in the future.

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This podcast is an edited distillation of the full-length happy hour which aired live on June 22nd of 2022. Huge thanks to Cris Jacobs and Devin Neel.

Timestamps:

0:08 – Soundbyte
1:01 – Introduction
2:46 – Welcome from Travis
3:44 – Monologue: gun predicament
5:19 – “Rise Sun”
8:11 – On Devin Neel
8:41 – On Telluride Bluegrass Festival
11:40 – “I’m Not Alone”
17:07 – Interview w/ Cris Jacobs
28:00 – “Delivery Man”
34:44 – “Talkin’ NRA Blues”
43:20 – “Under the Big Top”
47:47 – Interview w/ Cris Jacobs
59:24 – “Mama Was a Redbone”
1:05:10 – “The Devil or Jesse James”
1:13:17 – Reprise
1:14:27 – Outro

Editor’s note: The Travis Book Happy Hour is hosted by Travis Book of the GRAMMY Award-winning band, The Infamous Stringdusters. The show’s focus is musical collaboration and conversation around matters of being. The podcast is the best of the interview and music from the live show recorded in Asheville, NC.

The Travis Book Happy Hour Podcast is brought to you by Thompson Guitars and is presented by Americana Vibes and The Bluegrass Situation as part of the BGS Podcast Network. You can find the Travis Book Happy Hour on Instagram and Facebook and online at thetravisbookhappyhour.com.

LISTEN: Chicken Wire Empire, “Friend of the Devil” (Grateful Dead Cover)

Posted on by Editor

Artist: Chicken Wire Empire
Hometown: Milwaukee, Wisconsin
Song: “Friend of the Devil”
Album: Verry Garcia EP
Release Date: March 10, 2023

In Their Words: “The Midwest brings people to bluegrass from a variety of different angles, and we found that the Grateful Dead was a bridge between the different creative roads that ultimately brought our group together. David Grisman’s iconic descending mandolin riff at the top of the Dead’s 1970 recording ‘Friend of the Devil’ is a shining example of the way bluegrass music influenced the band’s sound. The riff is a theme that reminded us of the fiddle tune ‘Whiskey Before Breakfast,’ so we weaved a full pass of the tune into our cover to further explore that bridge between traditional roots music and the sound of the Grateful Dead.” — Carter Shilts, Chicken Wire Empire

Photo Credit: Stephanie Charpentier-Brusubardis