Aaron Jonah Lewis, “A Banjo Frolic”

Ask ten banjo players this question: “Who is the Mozart of the banjo?”

You’ll probably get ten different answers. If any were to double up, perhaps one would be Béla Fleck (a banjo player more than most will remember has conquered many a classical composition on the instrument) and perhaps another would be Earl Scruggs (given that “Mozart of” could easily morph into “a style-originator of” to others.) Fiddle champion and banjo virtuoso Aaron Jonah Lewis posits a much more pragmatic — and almost actually analogous — candidate on his new album, Mozart of the Banjo, tributing a banjo player a step closer to Mozart in more than a few ways, but chiefly in that he did not perform bluegrass.

Joe Morley was a “classic fingerstyle” banjo player, composer, performer, and instruction book author who lived and made music at the turn of the 19th to 20th centuries, at which time banjos were central to popular music in Britain and the United States. “A Banjo Frolic,” one of twelve Morley pieces performed by Lewis on the album, demonstrates this “golden age” sound, oozing ragtime and musical theatre and Vaudeville and minstrelsy. While Morley’s compositions weren’t technically “classical” music, Lewis explains in the project’s in-depth liner notes, “…[It] did occupy an interesting space in that it appealed to royalty, the upper and middle classes and the lower classes of society as well.” A truly banjo notion. Morley also paralleled Mozart in that they were both child prodigies, both left enormous bodies of work, and both died poor and were buried in unmarked graves.

We may be enjoying a current renaissance of the banjo, where more and more players, fans, and even casual passers-by of the instrument understand its important role in American history and its folkways and art forms. Still, it’s fascinating that so many forgotten or overlooked facets of the instrument’s past and its legacy remain excluded from that greater, better-understood narrative. Mozart of the Banjo: The Joe Morley Project and Aaron Jonah Lewis are attempting to tell more of the banjo’s full history, and purposefully connect it to its Black and African inputs, as well as its extant forms in the U.S. and around the world, reminding all of us banjo fans — and at such an apropos time, as well — that none of our favorite forms of music, banjo-y or otherwise, exist in a vacuum.

Sam Reider, “Trio Sonata”

All disbelief suspended, composer and accordionist Sam Reider’s work is essentially string band music. Yes, he’s an accordionist (which shouldn’t really be remarkable, because… Sally Ann Forrester), and yes, Eddie Barbash plays saxophone on the most recent album, The Human Hands EP, but we’ve suspended disbelief here for a reason. Whether the rest of the band were rounded out by Dominick Leslie, Duncan Wickel, Alex Hargreaves, Dave Speranza, and Roy Williams or not, these tunes would feel fiddle-y. They’re folky and down-to-earth and approachable and danceable and they cheekily, defiantly traipse across the borders of bluegrass. 

The truly remarkable thing about this music is not this feat in the face of (gasp) an accordion and a saxophone!? It’s that these folky-feeling tunes are… composed. These melodies and ideas are directly tied to a musical history and tradition often regarded as devoid of any idea rootsy or vernacular. “Trio Sonata,” a two-part composition on the new The Human Hands video EP, draws from the Baroque trio sonata, a 400-year-old musical form that derived from popular dances of the day. The three parts of Reider’s “Trio Sonata” are I. Reel, II. Jig, and III. Breakdown, amounting to an unlikely, four-century-old parallel to modern fiddle contest song selections. 

In this way, there’s a satisfying sense of symmetry to Reider’s idiosyncratic approach to fiddle-oriented instrumental music. It defies any so-called logic we might try to use to justify certain genre designations, it mocks the idea that we ought try to delineate between “classical” versus “folky” approaches to writing and creating music, and perhaps above all else, the music centers dance. Movement is certainly a unifier, and in this case, it unifies all of these musical eccentricities — from squeezebox to Bill Monroe to Baroque compositions to sax — in a perfectly digestible package.

Hawktail, “Padiddle”

Impossible combinations. Hawktail makes them seamlessly, time and again, with their effortless-while-labyrinthine brand of instrumental string band music. Their brand new album, Formations, is their first conceived and executed wholly as a four-piece. Mandolinist Dominick Leslie joined the lineup of Paul Kowert on bass, Brittany Haas on fiddle, and Jordan Tice on guitar after Hawktail developed most of Unless, their debut, as a trio. Confidence and ease permeate the new record, along with a palpable sense of intense listening and a feeling of space, openness, and synchronization. With virtuosos such as these it’s hard to imagine that they could possibly grow closer, become tighter, more enmeshed — but it would seem after little more than a year these four certainly have.

 Tice introduces “Padiddle,” Formations’ penultimate track, combining a bouncy, folk-rock inflected melodic hook with a smoldering, bluegrass-born conviction. An all too rare pairing in string band music, these modern, impetuous musical ideas don’t always emulsify with age-old, dyed-in-the-wool techniques. With each of the six originals on the record (and, of course, the Väsen cover, too) Hawktail are, as always, daringly inventive. But on Formations they’re distinctly proud to be catchy as well, flirting playfully with pop while still constantly reinforcing the deep roots of their collective pedigrees in fiddle music, old-time, bluegrass, and plain ol’ pickin’. An overarching impossible combination coloring the entire collection of tunes must be this: That something so timeless is also remarkably contemporary.

Bobby Hicks, “Snowflake Breakdown”

In our plaintive annual quest to unearth some semblance of a holiday-themed canon from the bluegrass songbook writ large, a few concessions must immediately be made. As argued in a past wintry edition of Tunesday Tuesday, titles of otherwise wordless and themeless songs are more than enough to justify a tune’s place in holiday and Christmas party playlists — or at least, this writer vehemently believes that they should be. 

That particular context might just be unnecessary, though, because anyone ought to welcome absolutely any excuse or justification to marvel at the sheer magic (holiday and/or otherwise) of Bobby Hick’s fiddling. Yes, this is no more than a contrived set up to allow some unbridled gushing about “Snowflake Breakdown.” The hoedown-style fiddle tune was a cut on Hicks’ 1978 album, Texas Crapshooter, which boasted an A side of all Texas and western swing tunes, featuring Buddy Emmons on pedal steel and Buck White on piano among others, and a B side of his signature bluegrass fiddling style, staffed by Sam Bush, Roy Huskey Jr., Alan Munde, and fellow Bluegrass Hall of Famer Roland White. The “wow, these pickers on this tune are each so unique and genius in their own rights, they’re like snowflakes” metaphor is just a little too irresistible here, so just go with it. 

For us fans of a bluegrass fiddler who plays with a heavy dose of North Carolina by way of Texas and a dash of the best parts of fiddle contests, has an unparalleled pedigree as a Blue Grass Boy with Bill Monroe, and a reputation as one of the most confounding double-stop talents in the universe, all we want for Christmas is (really, truly, honestly) more Bobby Hicks.

Shaun Richardson & Seth Taylor, “Chisholm”

An expansive generation of simply ludicrous flatpickers has rendered bluegrass, old-time, Americana, and folk replete with acoustic guitar virtuosos. Pickers like Jake Stargel, Molly Tuttle, Presley Barker, and Billy Strings each have in common commanding right hands and withering technique. Others, like Jake Workman, Trey Hensley, and Chris Luquette play at incomprehensible, blistering speeds with pristine precision that defies explanation — down to the most infinitesimal note durations. We can clearly see the shredtastic legacies of Clarence White, Tony Rice, Dan Tyminski, and others living on, even if chiefly through their more mathematical, aggressive, and adventurous methods and tones. 

That adventurous aggression might just be why “Chisholm,” a new tune composed by guitarists Shaun Richardson and Seth Taylor, feels like such a calming breath of fresh air. It’s a welcome counterpoint and complement to the repeated face-peeling-off that we all enjoy in this current golden age of flatpicking guitar. Richardson and Taylor are both veterans of Dailey & Vincent’s bluegrass-based rootsy stage show, giving them ample experience in musical code-switching, from fiddle tunes and swinging numbers to country ballads and passionate gospel. Richardson has performed with Michael Martin Murphey as well, and Taylor is a member of the long-running, heady, Americana-tinged bluegrass group Mountain Heart. 

The versatility lent by these diverse experiences gives “Chisholm” a well-traveled, though relaxed, voluminous vibe. The melodies are resonant and tactile, conjuring six-string players and composers such as John Carlini and Beppe Gambetta — with just a dash of Tommy Emmanuel. Jazz complexities are utilized here not in a gratuitous way, but rather anchored in expressiveness and musical dialogue. Richardson and Taylor’s expertise is very clearly centered not on simply displaying prowess, but in musicality. In this calmer, more subdued setting, that dynamic is especially refreshing and subtly striking.


Photo and video shot by James Shipman

Nick Hornbuckle, “Cleo Belle”

There’s a sort of primitive beauty within the patchwork techniques that have informed and filtered into each individual instrumentalist’s approach to the five-string banjo. Styles rapidly morph and change, aided by the instrument’s relative youth (when compared, in roots music, to all but perhaps the resonator guitar) and its absolute refusal to nestle into any one distinct vein of pedagogy. Scruggs-style, clawhammer and broader frailing, ragtime, picking (i.e. with plectrum), strumming, and even more avant garde approaches such as Greg Liszt’s four-finger banjo all lend themselves to the machine in their own alluring ways. 

Enter Nick Hornbuckle, banjoist at large and member of John Reischman’s Jaybirds, who’s just released his second solo album, 13 or So. Hornbuckle’s right hand method defies categorization even by the rule-eschewing standards mentioned above. His two-finger style is decidedly distinct from the eponymous Appalachian, old-time frailing approach, combining aspects of clawhammer, Scruggs-style, and the ethereal, impossible-to-replicate quirkiness of just making your hands do what the music requires without being exactly sure how that works. I.e., playing the banjo. 

The resulting aesthetic, which anchors each of the twelve original tunes on 13 or So, falls somewhere within an equilateral triangle whose vertices would be Mark Johnson (of clawgrass fame), Steve Martin, and Noam Pikelny (if he had one finger tied behind his back). “Cleo Belle,” as all of Hornbuckle’s compositions, confounds with its combination of sheer musical athleticism and acrobatics — while remaining absolutely intuitive and organic. With his crew — on “Cleo Belle” that would be Trent Freeman (fiddle), John Reischman (mandolin), Darryl Poulsen (guitar), and Patrick Metzger (bass) — Hornbuckle wholly incorporates vernacular musical vocabularies while still pushing string band boundaries into more art music or chamber music spaces. The arrangement reminds that the western-most communities of bluegrass and old-time acolytes in this country have truly, effortlessly combined the best parts of each, while retaining that rustic, back-porch timelessness that makes the banjo beguiling to all of us.

LISTEN: Mary Flower, “Crooked Rag”

Artist: Mary Flower
Hometown: Portland, Oregon
Song: “Crooked Rag”
Album: Livin’ with the Blues Again
Release Date: August 17, 2019
Label: Little Village Foundation

In Their Words: “Most of my instrumentals start with finding a groove that piques my interest. ‘Crooked Rag’ was developed around a 12 bar form in G, but with a ragtime feel. It is basically variations in the key of G. While writing, I kept after it, working my way up the neck until I ran out of musical ideas! As is the case for many of my tunes, I don’t sit down to write something. I fool around with new ideas much like a puzzle that needs solving. I work on it until I feel it’s complete and decide if it’s worth saving!” — Mary Flower

Hard Drive, “Missouri Road”

Ask a bluegrasser to define “mash” — that driving, head-bobbing, modern iteration of traditional ‘grass that refuses to commit to a minor or major third — and their answer will more than likely include some sentiment similar to, “It’s hard to explain, but I know it when I hear it!!” It’s true. The SON!-inducing subgenre within a subgenre can be traced back to artists like Tony Rice, Alison Krauss & Union Station, Lonesome River Band, and many others, but it does not have one single, tangible origin point or dictionary definition. 

Today, you can hear mash-inflected tunes from major touring bands and festival campgrounds alike — and especially from the halls of the Society for the Preservation of Bluegrass Music of America’s (SPBGMA) annual gathering in Nashville. In the past, mash was generally relegated to the much more traditional-leaning spheres of bluegrass, but in recent years musicians and pickers from other circles such as old-time, Boston’s chamber-influenced bluegrass scene, and the Pacific Northwest and Colorado’s string-band vibes have championed mash as their own as well.

One such group is Hard Drive, a North Carolina-based bluegrass outfit that resulted from four musical roommates — Tatiana Hargreaves (fiddle), Aaron Tacke (banjo), Sonya Badigian (guitar), and Nokosee Fields (bass) — banding together. Their debut album, Random Access Mash, listens more as traditional, down home bluegrass with a fiddle focus and old time spirit, but it calls itself “mash.” Even the band name itself is a tongue-in-cheek reference to this specific picking culture. “Missouri Road” is a cheerfully loping rendition of a Kenny Baker tune that again finds the project straying from the ascribed format, but lets Hargreaves’ deliberate, timeless fiddling shine. The entire project is a delightful subversion of our expectations of what traditional bluegrass is supposed to be. And if it’s mash, it’s perhaps executed as artfully and subtly as humanly possible. Do we always know it when we hear it? 

Julian Pinelli, “Simple Mountains”

There’s an almost intangible subversion to fiddler Julian Pinelli’s debut album, Bent Creek, and an original tune included therein, “Simple Mountains.” The track begins with fiddle and banjo, but not in their age-old, familiar capacities. There’s a lyrical, pop-like sensibility to their duetted intro, painting a dreamy soundscape, a background for what’s to follow. The tightly-knit, free-flowing, jaunty tune calls back to the Appalachian Mountains from which Pinelli hails, but with the modern, neat, and tidy crispness of the string band scene of Boston, where he attended Berklee College of Music.

Though Pinelli and his band, Matthew Davis (banjo), Tristan Scroggins (mandolin), Sam Leslie (guitar), and Dan Klingsberg (bass), were well acquainted before the project, they were assembled expressly for these recordings, under the direction of the ever ethereal roots/folk savant Aoife O’Donovan. The group, especially on “Simple Mountains,” sounds impossibly in step with one another, tight and ever-listening. Their musicality and the authentic purity of the instruments — you’ll hear unexpected G-runs, an unyielding mando chop, and stunning double-stops — coupled with their impressive commitment to innovative, untrod musical ground elevates the entire set of songs above simple “vanity album” status. This is not a gratuitous, self-serving shredfest. It’s a surprisingly mature, impressively realized record that not only showcases exactly how the future of bluegrass-based, new acoustic-tinged music will play out, it shines a spotlight on a few of the exact pickers who will make that future happen. Hopefully not without a lightly subversive touch here and there.

LISTEN: Andy Thorn, “Thornado”

Artist: Andy Thorn
Hometown: Boulder, Colorado
Song: “Thornado”
Album: Frontiers Like These
Release: June 21, 2019
Label: Thornpipe Music

In Their Words: “This tune came from exploring the key of A on banjo with no capo. Playing in A with no capo opens up a lot of different melodic possibilities on banjo and when I found the main riff I started basing a song around it. The tune really comes to life with the tasteful back and forth of Bobby Britt’s fiddle and Andrew Marlin’s mandolin. I love Jon Stickley’s creative use of open strings and harmonics on the jam. And Miles Andrews holds the whole thing together on his gut string bass. At just over six minutes it’s longer than your typical banjo tune, but if you give the whole track a chance it will take you on quite a ride. Enjoy ‘Thornado’!” — Andy Thorn


Photo credit: John Ryan Lockman (Show Love Media)