Growing up in Palo Alto, California, Molly Tuttle was surrounded by music. Her dad was a teacher at Gryphon Stringed Instruments, which is not-so-coincidentally where I got the pickups installed on my mini harp. Molly took to the guitar early and intensely, eventually earning a scholarship to the prestigious Berklee College of Music. But I think it was those early days growing up in California, attending bluegrass festivals with her family, basking in the glow of the jam, that set the tone for her warm and collaborative approach to playing music.
At Berklee, Molly formed a band called “The Goodbye Girls,” and cut her teeth touring in Scandinavia. Digging into The Goodbye Girls was a good launchpad for talking about what it means to be a female musician in Americana, as well as what happens when you explicitly call yourself an all-female group. As the first woman to win the IBMA Guitarist of the Year award, Molly has a unique perspective on this particular conundrum. It’s juicy.
I talked with Molly about her debut album, When You’re Ready, and her dazzling covers album …But I’d Rather Be With You before sifting through the many layers of her latest album, Crooked Tree. Crooked Tree features Molly’s brand-new band, Golden Highway. This new record is a study of bluegrass sensitively executed by one of the genre’s stars. Molly’s interpretations of bluegrass traditions like the murder ballad, shiny stacked vocal harmonies, and lightning fast guitar playing, are something to behold.
Artist:Jerrod Atkins Hometown: Birmingham, Alabama Song: “Start at the Beginning” Release Date: July 29, 2022
In Their Words: “This one is about accepting how important it is to take one step at a time and realizing how unpredictable and irreversible life is. Originally, I started writing it at a friend’s house on her sister’s guitar. I went home and worked it out on the only guitar that I knew was meant for me the moment I played it. ‘Rachel’ is a ‘59 M-2 Recording King I picked up on a work trip from Gruhn Guitar in Nashville. I definitely knew it would really shine and was the only one for the video after seeing the location. I’ll be releasing my first solo album later this year and it seemed very fitting to have this song as the intro track, which will be a studio version. This version was recorded live at a historical abandoned building in Avondale, Alabama, by Jordan Hudecz.” — Jerrod Atkins
Singer-songwriter and guitarist Gordie Tentrees didn’t begin his career as a globe-trotting performer until he moved to a vibrant, supportive music city – that is, Whitehorse, Yukon. In a town of approximately 40,000, there’s long been a bustling musical economy, one that supported Tentrees even before he had released any recordings.
Place – whether rural northern Canada, or the far reaches of New Zealand or western Europe or Australia – informs so much of Tentrees’ writing and music-making, especially on his most recent release, 2021’s Mean Old World. With a global perspective and a local level of care, he unspools big, often daunting political and social questions with humor, intention, and aplomb. Child welfare, Indigenous rights, solidarity, working class issues, and more are packaged in tidy honky-tonking, blues-inflected, string band songs, making these sometimes gargantuan pills that much easier to swallow.
That Tentrees prioritizes community, building bridges, and human connection in his music makes it that much more compelling. He uses his rural, multi-ethnic hometown as an entry point, a doorway, through which he not only brings folks into his own world, but brings his world to them, too. And in doing so, even with an album titled Mean Old World, he reminds us that living on this earth doesn’t always have to be so forbidding, exclusive, and mean. BGS connected with Gordie Tentrees via phone, while he picked up his Indigenous daughter from school on his bicycle, to discuss this recent album.
BGS: I wanted to start by asking you about place. I’ve been obsessed with place these days, especially as it relates to music and music-making. I was struck by the fact that you didn’t begin songwriting or performing until you moved to the Yukon. How did moving there inform your music-making? To me, it feels like there’s a strong sense of place on this record.
Gordie Tentrees: Well, I blame the Yukon – I credit the Yukon as well as blame it [Laughs] – for the path I’m on. It is a good conduit and supportive community that encourages the arts. Writing songs and playing an instrument is something that’s seen as a valued occupation, one that’s sort of embraced and lifted up. It’s not hard to get on the stage here. Early on, when I started playing, I hadn’t even made my first record yet and I was headlining some northern festival stages. [The Yukon] really gives you a chance to get on a stage and expose yourself to audiences like that. I really believe if I had lived anywhere else in Canada or the world I wouldn’t have been given so much time on the stage.
The other thing is that a lot of people spend their time creating art here and writing songs here – there are a lot of songwriters here. It’s a highly valued thing. I live in a community full of writers and songwriters. That’s really supported and endorsed. You can knock on someone’s door if you want to learn an instrument and they’ll show it to you. There aren’t barriers for those that are aspiring to be songwriters or musicians. It’s quite wonderful.
At one point, in our little community of 40,000 people – Whitehorse, Yukon, where I live – we even had up to 25 music venues at various points, all happening. One thing about Whitehorse that not many people know is that it has the highest number of musicians per capita that actually make a living from music in Canada.
As much as the Yukon has informed your music-making, you travel so much and you play so many shows all around the world, so while there’s this strong sense of place in this album, Mean Old World, I do sense that it’s also informed by your travels. “Danke” clearly references this. How has the cross-pollination of the Yukon and your travels created the musical aesthetic you have now?
I think that’s attributed to what I do, as far as being a performer and musician. I get to go to different parts [of the world] because I’m not just a songwriter and play various instruments. For example, if I play in English-speaking countries they like the songs and the stories. Countries where English is a second, third, fourth language they rely more on melody and stuff like that, so if you have a show that sort of hits people both ways, it allows you to travel as much as I have. Which I really sort of figured out early on, you can play in all these different markets and do different things because you’re not just a one-trick pony.
As far as playing different genres, there are so many genres of music here in the Yukon; it goes from jazz, blues, and hip-hop to funk music. I get often put into a country festival, bluegrass festival, or a folk festival as the guy who’s kind of on the edge of all those things. But it also touches on all those things. That’s allowed me to travel all over the place and sort of steal genres from all of the artists that have inspired me, whether it’s Southern and Delta blues music or Eastern Romanian dirges.
We are The Bluegrass Situation, so I would be remiss if I didn’t ask you about the bluegrass influences I hear on Mean Old World. I wonder where they stem from for you? It sounds like that type of rural bluegrass that is genre-less and draws from many influences.
Because I’m a guitar player, I’m drawn to flatpicking. I went, “Okay, bluegrass, this genre is like high-speed chess.” Like high speed math along with jazz. We have a local bluegrass festival up here so it’s all around. String band music is quite popular up here. Where I live in the Yukon you’re exposed to it from the jazz scene to the bluegrass scene. If you know music from those genres at all, that’s sort of enveloped and absorbed by the people who live here.
I wanted to ask you about the stories that went into “Mean Old World” and “Every Child,” not only your own experience in foster care, but also your experience of raising your Indigenous daughter and how that’s informed these songs. Partially because I think these are really heavy sort of big topics, but the way you approach them feels very grounded and very real.
It was all inspired by one song that I wrote, the title track, “Mean Old World.” The song was really about the best interests of every child, which I believe are health, safety, and happiness. Regardless of your background, politics, or the current state of the world, I think those are the most important things. That song is inspired by that, following my journey as a foster child from a broken home and going through the social services system and then also becoming a foster parent to our daughter six years ago. We had no idea [what we were doing], it was a really educational experience. Where I live in the Yukon, 50 percent of the community is Indigenous. I’m not Indigenous, my background is actually Irish. We’re very lucky that we’re educated and exposed to these experiences and our families and our communities – Indigenous or non-Indigenous – are affected by it. So we come together and support each other.
Through my daughter, being a parent of a female is one thing. It’s difficult for females in this world, [especially] one with brown skin. I think I keep it really simple and I think about what she faces every day and how she would get passed over or looked upon as a child that might need more work or more time, even if she was ahead of everybody else, because of the color of her skin and because of her background. Once that’s in your home, and you’ve experienced that, it’s pretty alarming! At the same time, we’re so grateful that we’ve had this experience and have realized that as parents we are here to bridge the gap between my daughter and her birth parents and her birth family. To build that human capacity to bridge that space that’s been created due to trauma.
You also bring a lot of lightness – levity, humor, and joy – into your music-making. Why is that important to you in the context of these kind of bigger, sometimes daunting topics?
When I was a kid, humor was a defensive coping mechanism to get through all the darkness. There were always pretty dark situations that were absurd, and if you could bring some light to it, it always made it easier to deal with. I felt like I was a witness and a passenger to my broken childhood and an observer. I watched it all and would kind of make light-hearted jokes about it even though it was painful, to get through it. I find that humor is my constant companion, also recognizing that even though I use it a lot I still have to deal with some of the reasons that I use it.
One of my favorite writers from early on was John Prine. I heard him in my house when I was a kid, and the way he can use heavy subjects: “There’s a hole in Daddy’s arm where all the money goes.” Everything from that ranging to, “Swears like a sailor when she shaves her legs.” That kind of humor in his songs is something as a kid that I grew up knowing was possible. You can use humor for these heavy subjects. I have a song on my last record called “Dead Beat Dad.” I felt it was ahead of its time because it shocked the audience, at least until I had them in my hand. I would shock them, a little jolt. Just to push them, give them a little poke. Now that song, those taboos are more behind us now. I want to take people down those roads, but I also want to bring them back, usually with humor.
The quality of the music, being that sort of honky-tonk country meets a back porch jam, really communicates that your priority is establishing these relationships with your audiences so you can have these bigger conversations.
A lot of my audience is a rural audience, teaching, sharing with them that yes, you can grow up in those places and it’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay, you’re going to be okay. You’re going to grow and it’s never too late to learn. It’s just never too late. Once you stop learning, that’s when we’re all in trouble. I’ll have these conversations, most of my audience is rural communities and they’ll expect me to do this hillbilly, honky-tonk, “hold my beer while I kiss your wife” nonsense and I can open the door with that and then they’ll be like, “Wait a minute, he’s not singing about beer, he’s singing about… Whoa!” I love having that effect. I love going through that doorway.
I recognize my role when I go around night to night in whatever country it is, I realize I walk in and I can lift, change, alter a lot of people’s lives in a short amount of time. I can do it over and over again, repeatedly, and I get to go to bed at night and go, “Wow. That felt pretty good.” I’m really enjoying it. I’m enjoying it more now than I have in the sixteen years I’ve been doing this. I feel really grateful that there’s a place for me – I feel like there’s more of a place for me now than there’s ever been. I’m just so lucky. I get to be a small helper in a larger community.
Artist:Bruce Molsky Hometown: Beacon, New York Song: “Come Home” Album:Everywhere You Go Release Date: February 25, 2022 Label: Tiki Parlour Recordings
In Their Words: “When the epic Swedish folk rock band Hoven Droven came to the Nordic Roots festival in Minneapolis in 2005, I joined them on stage for a couple of tunes, and ‘Kom Hem (Come Home)’ was one of them. The tune’s built-in melancholy made me think that ‘Come Home’ might be a plea to a lover who left, and that was the emotional direction I eventually took with it for my guitar arrangement. It turned out that wasn’t the complete story (apparently there were also dirty dishes piling up in the sink while this lover was gone). But the tune’s loneliness is what really spoke to me, especially played more slowly in this very low guitar tuning.” — Bruce Molsky
Artist:Jake Soffer Hometown: Portland, Oregon Song: “From Sea to Sky” Album:The Tree That Remained Standing EP Release Date: Spring 2022
In Their Words: “A few months ago I started experimenting with a short-cut partial capo on my guitar, which gives you this cool open tuning that a normal capo wouldn’t. I saw it as a creative challenge to write a song in a tuning or configuration that was new to me, and I started making up some simple chord patterns to help get my footing. Those patterns ended up being the foundation for ‘From Sea to Sky.’ I actually thought this song would end up being played as a solo guitar piece at a much slower tempo, but it sounded too melancholy and somehow a bit contrived that way.
“I thought to myself, ‘You’ve already written plenty of sad boy music during this pandemic, why not make this song a happy one? What could you do to make it sound more optimistic?’ So I recorded mandolin, bass, and drums. The final ingredient to the recording was courtesy of my friend Grace Honeywell, violin player of the Eugene-based bluegrass quintet The Muddy Souls. Recording her violin parts in my home studio was a fun and organic process, and I’m proud to have a song that has the blessings of a real bluegrass fiddle player.
“Like the other songs on this record, ‘From Sea to Sky’ involves the theme of nature. The past few years have been full of big personal changes for me — the pandemic, a breakup, some growing pains as an artist — and spending time alone in the woods tends to help me process them. Musically, I felt that drawing a connection between certain specific feelings in my little life and larger themes of my surroundings had a humbling effect. To me, ‘From Sea to Sky’ represents the beauty of possibility. When I wrote this song, I tried to capture the feeling of self-doubt and anxiety you get when having to confront personal challenges, but also the pleasure and freedom you feel in finding an escape from things, be it temporary or permanent. ‘From Sea to Sky’ is an homage to those escapes.” — Jake Soffer
Artist:Yasmin Williams Hometown: Woodbridge, Virginia Song: “Through the Woods” (Live on Mountain Stage) Album:Urban Driftwood Release Date: January 21, 2021
In Their Words: “When I first arrived at Mountain Stage, I was shown a long list of all of the past performers and was extremely excited to now be a part of that legacy. My song ‘Through the Woods’ is about embarking on a new journey, and I was especially excited to play this song on Mountain Stage given its history and that this was my first time playing on the program. For me, ‘Through the Woods’ symbolizes everything Mountain Stage is about: embracing new adventures by showcasing emerging artists, like me, and giving them a platform. I thoroughly enjoyed my time at Mountain Stage and would love to come back!” — Yasmin Williams
Billy Strings has had his foot on the gas since he was a teenager, bringing his prolific picking to hundreds of shows around the country each year and winning over a throng of devoted fans in the process. His bluegrass bona fides may be obvious from the outset — he’s quick to cite such greats as Bill Monroe, Doc Watson, and the Stanley Brothers as some of his first musical influences, and no honest spectator could deny his talent on the guitar and mandolin — but astute listeners will also note elements of rock, jam bands, and even heavy metal in his performances, especially as Strings bounds around the stage.
The Nashville-based, Michigan-raised musician’s latest album, Renewal, comes on the heels of an exceptional year: His Rounder Records debut, Home, won the 2020 Grammy award for Best Bluegrass Album. And even as much of the music industry was grounded from touring, his innovative approach to livestreams and digital performances moved the Pollstar Awards to dub him the Breakthrough Artist of the Pandemic. But that breakthrough was more than a decade in the making, and the forces that shaped Strings as a prodigious young picker are still at work today, pushing him creatively in the studio and on stage as well as calming him at home between gigs. Here, in the second half of our BGSArtist of the Month interview, Strings tells us about his upbringing, his latest influences, and the way he unwinds between shows.
BGS: Tell me about where you grew up. How do you see its impact on your work today?
Billy Strings: I was born in Lansing, Michigan on October 3, which is my grandpa’s birthday. My mother, who lived in Kentucky at the time, had gone up to Lansing to visit her dad on his birthday, and that’s when I decided to show up. [Laughs] So that’s why I was named Billy as well, because that was my grandpa’s name — I was his little birthday gift.
We lived in Morehead, Kentucky, for a couple of years before coming back home to Michigan, where I really grew up. I grew up in a little town called Muir, population 600. My dad is an incredible guitar player, so he taught me how to play. He was always showing me music when I was a little kid: Doc Watson, Bill Monroe, Lester Flatt, Earl Scruggs, Jimmy Martin, Larry Sparks, and stuff like that — a lot of good bluegrass. We’d hang out at this little campground and play music next to the river by the fire. That was my childhood, man, just sitting there picking by the river.
It was real good until I got to be a teenager and started to turn sour. I had to run off and figure out a new life. I took what my dad taught me when I was a little kid, and all of a sudden I realized that bluegrass is actually pretty sweet and people love this shit — that maybe I could do something with this; that it’s not just something that I do with my dad that I should be halfway embarrassed about.
Who are the artists that you feel really inspired by right now? And are those different than the ones that you feel like you were listening to a lot when you were a kid?
For the most part, it’s still Doc Watson — he’s the main nerve — and Bill Monroe, and Lester Flatt and Earl Scruggs, Ralph Stanley and Carter Stanley, the Stanley Brothers. But I listen to a lot of different shit. I listen to death metal, and lately, I’ve been getting into this music from Mali that Béla Fleck was showing me — some really amazing stuff. And Memphis trap: I’ve been listening to Young Dolph a bunch. There’s just an energy to it. I grew up around crack houses. I’ve seen that shit that they’re rapping about. It just gets me hyped: He’s talking about coming out of nothing and becoming a self-made millionaire. I listen to it before the shows sometimes to get myself hyped up.
You played in rock bands in high school — groups with music that might not sound a lot like what you’re doing today. Is there any lesson or anything from that time that you feel like you still turn to or still apply to the music that you make?
Yeah, performing live. I never learned how to perform in a bluegrass band. I learned how to perform in a metal band. I learned music by playing bluegrass when I was a little kid, but by the time I was doing it on stage it was in a metal band — we were headbanging and running all over the place — and I still can’t help but get into the music like that. I can’t just stand there and play.
You have been in Nashville now for a little while. Has anything that has surprised you about it, good or bad?
I really love Nashville. A lot of your favorite musicians, that’s where they live. You’ll see your favorite singer in the grocery store. I get calls for sessions, and it’s from people who I grew up listening to and who I’ve idolized for my whole life. Like Béla Fleck’s record just came out, and I played a handful of songs on that. I was so honored to play with David Grisman, and Chris Thile, Sam Bush, Stuart Duncan, and Edgar Meyer — all these cats that are just… well, I don’t feel like I’m really in that league. It really was an honor. And there’ve been several things like that! I went from listening to these cats on a record to being on a first-name basis with them… texting and being friends. It’s a trip.
What’s one thing that’s brought you joy recently?
Fishing. I love bass fishing. I grew up doing that with my dad as well, but I didn’t do it for a long time because I was so busy. When the pandemic hit, I started fishing again. I go out there in rain or shine. I just like it for the solitude. Last night, I was in front of thousands of people, and to come home and go out on my boat and be alone in nature — to check out the blue herons and the fucking ospreys, eagles, fish, everything doing its thing — it’s brought me a lot of joy, brought me down to Earth. I put my boat in at 5 o’clock in the morning when the sun is just coming up. I like being out there alone at that time of day. It’s just good for my mind.
And yet it’s so clear from your performances that interacting with listeners gives you a certain joy, too. What are the forms of feedback that you value most from your audience when you’re playing live?
Sometimes when we finish a solo, everybody starts cheering real loud, the whole place gets real loud. That feels good. But sometimes I look out there and I look around and I see individual people and I literally play to them. Last night, we played in Montana and I was looking around and there was this one dude just standing there with his beer just completely still. I didn’t even know if he was enjoying it or not. So I just walked up to the front of the stage and stared directly at him and I just started playing right to him. [Laughs] So he started laughing, and then he took a drink of his beer and started bobbing his head a little bit. I think he just started getting into it by the end of the show.
I’ll look for things like that. The audience is really in control of how I’m feeling up there. Sometimes, when they’re just on fire, I can’t help but have a good time. They feed us the energy, and we give it back to them. It’s reciprocal.
From carving out a name for himself on the road as a teenager to winning a Grammy for Best Bluegrass Album (2019’s standout Home), the prodigious 29-year-old guitar player Billy Strings has cultivated a devoted following and collected an impressive list of accomplishments along the way. His latest Rounder Records release, Renewal, capitalizes on the confidence and artistic growth those experiences have delivered, with experimental new instrumentation, contemplative lyricism, and trademark picking. Produced by Jonathan Wilson (Roger Waters, Father John Misty), the sixteen-track opus offers a glimpse at an artist who is continuously rediscovering himself.
“I’m going through a part in my life where I’m looking through the windshield instead of in the rearview,” he says. “I think of a new day, the morning light, a spider molting, or a snake shedding its skin: It’s a renewal.” In the first of our two part BGSArtist of the Month interview, we caught up with Billy Strings about those new beginnings — on the stage, in the studio, and in his day-to-day life.
BGS: Renewal is mostly acoustic, but it pulls from a lot of different sources of inspiration — and not all of those are necessarily bluegrass. Is there any particular moment on the record where you noticed the influence of a genre that may be unexpected to some listeners?
Billy Strings: “Hide and Seek” is a song that maybe draws more from my influence of playing in metal bands — trying to write a song that’s more like a metal song, but with acoustic instruments… using odd time signatures, diminished chords, and avoiding the major scale. I grew up listening to a lot of death metal, and a lot of that music is just not verse-chorus-bridge, verse-chorus-outro. The songs are like 10 different parts. They’re hyper-composed, and that stuff’s sort of neat.
Was there anything that you did in the studio that took you out of your comfort zone?
I mean, I wouldn’t say it was uncomfortable, but it was different playing synthesizers and different instruments hands-on. I think I gained a little confidence when I won that Grammy — the next time I went into the studio, I was the one calling the shots: “Hey, do you have a triangle? Let’s all come together and do a singalong.” I was the one coming up with the creative ideas and feeling confident in myself to do that. On “Heartbeat of America,” I’m playing some old synthesizer, playing with the pitch wheel and stuff. That shit’s fun.
“Hellbender” stands out as a reasonably upbeat, fun song when you’re listening to it, but the lyrics are… kind of dark. What was going on in your head when you were writing that?
That song’s about a real bad headache and a real bad hangover — being lost in the demons of alcohol, not knowing where to stop, saying, “Fuck it, I’m going to drink until the night’s over.” I haven’t drank in over five years: I haven’t had a sip of alcohol because I had a real bad headache one day. So it’s not really about me, but I wouldn’t really call it a fictional song either. I have been there and done that: woken up like that. It’s about a guy who can’t freakin’ stop.
“Know It All” on the new album talks about learning from your mistakes. Has there been any kind of a difficult learning experience that you feel shaped you as an artist?
Well, maybe that headache I was talking about.
Oh yeah?
One day we had this awesome gig. A lot of people showed up, and we sold a bunch of merch, and I thought we were fucking rock stars. I had been up all night and drinking beer and liquor and a bunch of shit. We got to the bar after and I was all, “Old Fashioneds! Get one for everybody, on me!” I was raring and tearing. But the next day, we barely made it to our gig, because I was puking every 10 minutes. We made it there in time to set up our stuff and play — we had to set up our gear in front of the audience. This was at a time where my career was really starting to take off, and I saw that as an opportunity to draw a line in the sand.
How so?
I think it’s about being conscious of my surroundings, being aware of the vibe that people are giving, and also being aware of the vibe that I’m putting off. I don’t want to be a drunk asshole when some fan comes up to me and says, “Hey man I really enjoyed the show.” I want to be there. I want to be able to say, “Thank you, man. Thank you for coming. I fucking appreciate it.” I just came off four gigs back-to-back. We played Spokane, Washington; Portland, Oregon; Seattle; and then somewhere in Montana. And right now I’m on my way to Salt Lake City. I can’t do that if I’m drinking. It’s all I can do to take care of myself. There’s no time for that shit.
You won Breakthrough Artist of the Pandemic from Pollstar —probably the first time anybody was awarded something like that. What motivated you to try new things when you lost your outlet on stage? Was there anything that struck you as a special moment even remotely connecting with your fans?
I’ve been doing this since I was 19 and I went on my first tour across the country. It’s all I’ve really known, just keeping this going. I’ve been “striking while the iron’s hot” for 10 years. [Laughs] So when all of a sudden I don’t have anything to do, it’s like, “Well shit. We need to keep doing something to engage the fans. We can’t just stop.” We started doing little streams at my house, and then that moved to doing a streaming tour around venues and stuff, and then eventually the whole Capitol Theater run, which was six nights, including this whole experiment where we tried to interact with our fans through telekinesis. That was really special. Even though there wasn’t anybody there, it felt like we were really connected with the audience.
You are out there day in and day out, and I’ve also seen you talk candidly about having anxiety and nerves before going on stage. Is there anything in particular that you do to manage that?
I mean, it’s been a journey. I hit the road when I was 19, playing 200 gigs a year, and for a while there, I was invincible, untouchable. I thought I could drive the van, sell the merch, book the hotels, settle up at the end of the night, write the songs, perform the shows, do everything. It was all on my shoulders. But I hit a wall where all of a sudden, instead of being confident, strong, and untouchable, I was fragile and scared of the world. Anxiety really fucked me up. I started having these crippling panic attacks where my whole body would go into convulsions.
I’m not trying to be a tough guy. I’m trying to be an honest guy. It’s uncomfortable for me to pretend like I’m feeling any way that I’m not, so if I’m angry, sad, anxious, mad? You’re going to know it because I don’t want to hide that shit. I’ve been going to therapy ever since 2019 and it’s helped me a bunch. I had a lot of trauma from my childhood that I had to sort out so I could keep moving forward and stop looking back. That’s what Renewal is all about.
Simple and strong, this live performance of “Midnight on the Stormy Deep” encapsulates so much of what we love about bluegrass. A style-defining voice and top-shelf front man, Del McCoury sings tenor and strums his signature rhythm guitar on the tune as Billy Strings leads from behind a mandolin — a lesser-known instrument for the fiery flatpicker whose name and music have become synonymous with modern bluegrass.
A timeless bluegrass standard, McCoury and Strings’ fresh take on “Midnight on the Stormy Deep” is reverent and quietly respectful of the music’s traditions. The breaks and fills are baked into the sound of bluegrass while the forward, bright vocal tones of the two friends could be the textbook definition of traditional harmonies. Some might say that McCoury and Strings could hardly be any more different as artists, but their mutual respect and appreciation is evident in this figurative, bluegrass passing of the baton. Don’t miss their in-studio performance of “Midnight on the Stormy Deep.”
We’re just over a week and a half away from the International Bluegrass Music Association’s annual awards show held in Raleigh, North Carolina. Bluegrass being a technical, virtuosic genre, the awards have always included efforts to note, encourage, and honor instrumental music and instrumentalists. Each year five bands or acts are nominated for Instrumental Group of the Year, as well as individual songs nominated for Instrumental Recording of the Year. Today we’ll spend a little time with each of the nominees in the latter category, a collection of five instrumentals that showcase collaborative, exciting lineups, some acrobatic mandolin picking, and the exciting depth and breadth of the musical talent evident in the bluegrass community.
Appalachian Road Show — “The Appalachian Road”
Appalachian Road Show is Barry Abernathy, Jim VanCleve, Darrell Webb, Zeb Snyder, and Todd Phillips, kicking off the Instrumental Recording category with our first supergroup of the bunch. Their titular tune, from the 2020 album, Tribulation, feels like an exciting, galloping journey with twists and turns and a slight darkness, like evening creeping over an Appalachian holler. Appalachian Road Show is the second-most nominated band this year at the IBMA awards, also up for New Artist of the Year – but don’t be fooled, this group has been making fiery music like this centered on VanCleve’s signature sawing for several years now.
Bluegrass 2020 — “Foggy Mountain Chimes”
Scott Vestal reprised his Bluegrass ‘95,Bluegrass ‘96, and Bluegrass 2001 records in 2020 with a new generation, filling out the band with IBMA Award winner and fiddler Patrick McAvinue, guitarist Cody Kilby, Hawktail mandolinist Dominick Leslie, and his brother Curtis Vestal on bass. His ‘95 edition included Wayne Benson, Adam Steffey, Aubrey Haynie, Barry Bales, and Clay Jones, while the ‘96 record featured Mark Schatz, Jeff Autry, and Rob Ickes – in addition to Haynie and Benson. In 2001, Autry and Benson were joined by John Cowan, Randy Kohrs, and Jim VanCleve.
It’s easy to tell, from this 2020 rendition of “Foggy Mountain Chimes” or from any sample taken from this series of recordings helmed by Vestal, that his commitment to traditional bluegrass, that constantly pushes the envelope, is matched only by his commitment to crafting recordings such as these, where the most tangible throughline – perhaps the only throughline, besides Vestal himself – is the community and the music-making first and foremost.
Bluegrass at the Crossroads — “Ground Speed”
And, another supergroup! Mountain Home Music Company, an imprint of Crossroads Label Group in Arden, North Carolina, has been releasing a series of recordings featuring crackerjack bands of artists and musicians from across their label community and friends. This lineup includes Kristin Scott Benson of the Grascals, Darren Nicholson of Balsam Range, Jeremy Garrett of the Infamous Stringdusters, Skip Cherryholmes of Sideline (and yes, Cherryholmes), and professor, bassist, and musicologist Kevin Kehrberg.
It’s not uncommon for this IBMA Awards category to include traditional numbers from the bluegrass canon but it’s certainly a treat to have two such thoughtful – and downright fun – Earl Scruggs numbers up for the trophy this year.
If you haven’t had the good fortune to stumble upon it yet, scholar Neil V. Rosenberg has been taking BGS readers down memory lane, describing the 1989 Dayton Bluegrass Reunion that went on to inspire not only a book, Industrial Strength Bluegrass, but this new Joe Mullins-produced Smithsonian Folkways compilation album by various artists, too. This track features Sierra Hull with a band including Ben Isaacs, Kristin Scott Benson, Glen Duncan, Josh Williams, and the rarest of rare, bluegrass drums by Phil Paul. “Mountain Strings” was originally recorded by Red Allen and its composer, mandolinist Frank Wakefield. The album’s in-depth and museum-like liner notes get it right when they describe Hull’s rendering of the tune as inhabiting “rock and roll swagger,” much like the song’s originators. The ear-puckering cross tuning will stick in your craw, executed with a precision Hull accomplishes universally and deftly.
Justin Moses with Sierra Hull — “Taxland”
The Instrumental Recording of the Year category is always great at showcasing bluegrass’s endemic talent, but this year it really confirms and reconfirms the skill of many pickers, several of whom are nominated on more than one recording in this category, as you will have read already! Sierra Hull appears once again, this time on a track with her husband and musical compatriot Justin Moses, who assembled yet another Instrumental Recording supergroup on his Fall Like Rain project released in January of 2021. “Taxland” – a Tunesday Tuesday feature when it was released as a single in October 2020 – was inspired by all self-employed musicians’ least favorite time of year and features some of Hull and Moses’ signature double mandolin stylings, backed by Michael Cleveland’s jaw-dropping fiddle, Bryan Sutton on guitar, and Barry Bales on bass. It’s a tune that feels rollicking and impressive, but entirely musical, too – a quality not all bluegrass instrumentals share.
Congratulations goes to all of this year’s Instrumental Recording nominees, every one a deserving finalist for the award.
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