Tag: jazz

WATCH: Matt Rollings, “Wade in the Water” (Featuring The War and Treaty & The Blind Boys of Alabama)

Posted on by Editor

Artist: Matt Rollings
Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee
Song: “Wade in the Water” (Featuring The War and Treaty and The Blind Boys of Alabama)
Album: Matt Rollings Mosaic
Release Date: August 14, 2020
Label: Dualtone Records

In Their Words: “Michael and Tanya [of The War and Treaty] and I had decided to record ‘Take Me to the Mardi Gras,’ the Paul Simon classic, for the record. We spent a few hours — Michael, Tanya, Jay Bellerose and I — and wound up with an amazing take of the song and I was thrilled. After listening to the playback of ‘Take Me to the Mardi Gras,’ I spontaneously asked if they’d be willing to try something else. I had been nursing an idea about the old spiritual, ‘Wade in the Water.’ My first real jazz piano influence, Ramsey Lewis, recorded it on his 1966 album of the same name, and I’ve always loved it. After hearing what Michael and Tanya had done with the Paul Simon song, I was dying to hear them sing it.

“I printed the lyrics out and we went for it. This is the first and only take we did of the song. It was so good that we didn’t even try it a second time. After adding acoustic bass, it still didn’t feel quite complete… some background vocals were needed. I thought, ‘Who would the ultimate singer(s) be for this?’ It occurred to me that a real-deal gospel quartet would be perfect and The Blind Boys of Alabama would be the ideal candidate. Somehow I was able to catch them while they were in Muscle Shoals, recording on another project. So I drove down there from Nashville on the appointed day and recorded them on the track. They brought just the magic that was needed. The way they blended with Michael and Tanya is amazing… like they were in the same room singing together. After that, the song was done.” — Matt Rollings

Photo credit: Michael Wilson

Bluegrass Memoirs: Scruggs Pegs & Earl’s Hooks

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Let’s begin with a 45 RPM record I played banjo on. 

In July 1964, I was hired by the Rick Sutherlin Orchestra to play banjo for one night at the Monroe County Fair in Bloomington, Indiana. They needed a banjo player, because they were going to back up the fair’s featured music that night, the famous barbershop quartet, The Buffalo Bills. 

The Rick Sutherlin Orchestra was a big band based in Bloomington. Its leader Sutherlin, from a local family, was not a great musician. I remember him at the fair waving his baton at the front of the stage while one of the sidemen did the countdowns before each tune. I’m pretty certain I got the gig because Tom Hensley, who’d played bass in our bluegrass band, the Pigeon Hill Boys, played piano for the orchestra. They needed a banjo; he suggested my name. Hensley, like most of the other members of the big band, was at the Indiana University School of Music. He recently retired after over 40 years as Neil Diamond’s pianist.

A banjo solo was needed for the show, so one of the other orchestra members, trombonist Gary Potter, came to consult with me. Potter and I had been classmates at Oberlin College, playing in Dick Sudhalter’s jazz band in 1960. The following year we had roomed in the same boarding house, and he’d played bass with our campus bluegrass band, The Plum Creek Boys. Now he was at the start of a long career teaching music, principally at IU’s Jacobs School of Music. 

We decided on Bob Dylan’s “Don’t Think Twice,” a contemporary folk hit. I’d been playing it with David Satterfield in our Bloomington bluegrass band. Dave, an IU Grad student from Columbus, Indiana, had lived in Greenwich Village a few years before and done some singing with Dylan at that time. This song was in his repertoire.

I loaned Gary a copy of Sing Out! that had Dylan’s words and music so he could work on the arrangement. At this point he suggested inserting the sound of the Scruggs pegs, the musical hook in Flatt & Scruggs’ “Flint Hill Special.” Scruggs had added two additional tuning pegs to his banjo. They had cams which pushed on the second and third strings, enabling him to raise and lower the pitch of each string while it was being plucked. That created a slurred note sound resembling that of a slide guitar or a pedal steel.

Gary had heard that sound when we were at Oberlin and thought its riff with the strings being tuned down and back up would make a nice introduction for my banjo part. He enjoyed the challenge of arranging the sound of the pegs for the orchestra.

The performance at the fair went over well, and soon after that someone — maybe Sutherlin? — suggested we try doing a banjo + big band LP. Thus the Delmarti 45, intended as a demo, was born. The recording was made, as the label indicates, by Don Sheets. Sheets had a recording studio in Brown County on Highway 135 halfway between Bean Blossom and Nashville. He did custom recording work — high school bands, choirs, that sort of stuff — and specialized in jingles. I worked for him there occasionally. A gold record for one of his jingles hung on the studio wall.

The recording was made on the IU Bloomington campus in August 1964, at the Indiana Memorial Union building’s Alumni Hall. The band was on the hall’s stage. Sheets set up his recording equipment on the floor in front of the stage. What I recall most vividly about the recording session is how solid the rhythm section was. “The Marti Mae Singers” was Don’s wife Marti, who overdubbed the harmony voices in his studio afterward.

The record was published in the fall of 1964. Our banjo + big band idea didn’t find any takers at record companies. At the time, bluegrass banjo crossover projects like this one were already up and running, and the heyday for Scruggs pegs had passed.

Earl Scruggs invented his pegs in 1952 after recording “Earl’s Breakdown,” an instrumental that incorporated as its hook a musical trick he’d been playing since boyhood — making a slur by plucking the second string (a B note), tuning it down while still ringing to an A, and then quickly back up to B, right in the middle of an instrumental break. A quick twist! He and Lester recorded it in October 1951. 

It was released at the end of the year on a Columbia single, the B side of “‘Tis Sweet To Be Remembered,” the first Flatt & Scruggs title to make the Billboard charts. All winter long, Columbia advertised the single as a best-seller. The band, then based in Raleigh, was playing it on the radio and the road daily. 

The tedium of having to retune the string by ear every time he played it prompted Earl to invent a labor-saving device. He installed a tuning peg with an adjustable cam on it in the banjo’s peghead between the first and the second string. Turning the peg up made the cam stretch the second string up to B. Turning it down loosened it to A. That enabled him to play these peg hooks accurately every time.

At the same time as he installed the new tuning peg he placed an identical one between the third and the fourth string so that the third string could be moved down from a G to F# and back.

Earl did this because moving the second and third strings down is a natural part of tuning the banjo from an open G chord (the default, for Scruggs-style) to a D chord. This boyhood musical trick came from something he did whenever he played at a dance — change tunings. Certain dance pieces were in G, the most frequently used tuning. Others were in C or D, each with its own tuning. Scruggs used all three throughout his musical life.

In the spring of 1952 Earl could use his new tuners not only for “Earl’s Breakdown,” but also to move quickly from G to D in order to play “Reuben,” the old-time tune that had launched him as a three-finger picker, which he often picked with the band. 

Tablature for “Flint Hill Special” from Earl Scruggs and the 5-String Banjo, p. 103

That fall, just after moving to Knoxville, they recorded “Flint Hill Special,” Earl’s newest composition. It used his new pegs for the tune’s hook.  This riff came at the start of the recording and was repeated at the end of each banjo chorus. That’s what Gary Potter incorporated into his charts for our version of “Don’t Think Twice.”

Released within weeks as the B side of “Dim Lights, Thick Smoke,” “Flint Hill Special” was advertised by Columbia as a best-seller all spring of 1953. It got a lot of radio play. 

At the end of August, not long after Lester and Earl started broadcasting for Martha White Flour in Nashville, they recorded another new peg hook instrumental, “Foggy Mountain Chimes.” In the second half of each chorus Earl tuned both strings down, changing the banjo’s open chord to a D, then played harmonics — “chimes” — in that key before tuning back up to G. 

“Foggy Mountain Chimes” was released in November 1953. The following month Decca released a single recorded in Nashville by the Shenandoah Valley Boys. On one side was “Plunkin’ Rag,” a new banjo instrumental with yet another Scruggs peg hook. 

With the pegs as with every other aspect of his music, Earl Scruggs was being listened to in Nashville and copied by young banjo players everywhere. “Plunkin’ Rag” was just the start. More about that next time!

Neil V. Rosenberg is an author, scholar, historian, banjo player, and Bluegrass Music Hall of Fame inductee.

Photo of Neil V. Rosenberg: Terri Thomson Rosenberg

From Goat Rodeo to Songs of Comfort, Yo-Yo Ma Believes Music Builds Bridges

Posted on by Editor

The world’s most famous cellist Yo-Yo Ma is spending the pandemic at home in Cambridge, Massachusetts, with his family. It has been a situation that he describes, rather humorously, as being an adjustment for everyone. “Two-thirds of my marriage has been on the road. Forty-two years and suddenly my wife sees me home every night, and every day and every morning.”

Yet he says the experience has been a real blessing, too. “All the tensions of being home and preparing to leave, or coming back home to recuperate and then leave again, are all gone,” he explains by phone, before adding “replaced by, of course, the incredible fractures and ruptures in our society.”

Besides pondering a “tsunami of crises,” Ma talks about the joys of getting the band back together — a lineup informally known as Goat Rodeo, which also encompasses Stuart Duncan, Edgar Meyer, Chris Thile, and special guest Aoife O’Donovan. This Artist of the Month interview is the fourth of four installments as BGS salutes the incredible and iconic musicians behind the ensemble’s second project, Not Our First Goat Rodeo.

BGS: Like the first album, Not Our First Goat Rodeo was recorded at James Taylor’s studio in the Berkshires. Was there a comfort level about returning there?

Totally. The studio is aesthetically beautiful. It is right there in the middle of the Berkshires, the middle of the woods, and it’s a barn that has been built for that reason. We work hard. We play hard. And going back to it is fabulous because everybody in the band is so busy. So, just to get the time from their busy lives to get together is a feat, but when we get together, it feels like we never left. So, add to the great acoustics and the set-up of the barn, another added feeling of “the band is getting back together again.”

Since it was in August, was there a summer vacation vibe?

It was like camp except we weren’t 12 years old. [Laughs] Adult camp! We spend all day together. We have meals together. But it was also work. I have to say that Edgar, Chris, and Stuart worked like dogs, way into the night. Working on scores, working on correcting things. They worked really, really, really hard, but we also had a really good time.

Although the four of you don’t play together often, it seems that a high level of trust exists within the group and with the audience.

That’s such a good question, because you are talking about both the external and internal relationship of building trust. It starts with the trust we have in one another, interpersonally. Between Chris and Edgar. Between Chris and Stuart. Stuart and Edgar. Edgar and me. If you were to draw a networking line between all of us, and Aoife included, it’s trust on every level. Trust and respect. I think the two go together. In that, if someone has a deep opinion about something, there’s going to be deep respect for that. We might try it and it might evolve into something else. There’s never an argument…

The trust also comes from the philosophy: it’s not “It’s my way, your way or the highway.” It’s more like “I know certain things and you know certain things and I love what you know and you like what I know and respect what I know.” So we are just working it out all of the time.

So that allows for the freedom of creativity, to follow a musical idea and see where it takes you?

You know, that other thing about that is where you place your ego. We live in a world where some people think their ego walks in front of them. And [with Goat Rodeo], every one of us has a pretty strong ego because otherwise we can’t go and perform. But the egos never lead. We actually make fun of our own egos or each other’s.

Another thing is, we all have strengths and vulnerabilities, [but] we never, ever pounce on anybody’s vulnerability. I’m the oldest guy there. I’m full of warts. You can probably make fun of me until the cows come home but I think they treat me nice. There’s respect but they never step on someone’s vulnerability. It’s like a great relationship — a great domestic relationship. We didn’t get into pushing buttons. We’re so clear about the work that needs to be done. That’s how you build trust. You accept the whole person, and you treasure the parts that they excel in. You don’t tramp on weaknesses. But while we have a lot of fun!

What is one recording that ranks as a G.O.A.T. (greatest of all time) for you?

When you ask a question like that, I can’t help but think about different time periods. If the well-lived life is the life that has been explored, then obviously at all times in your life you will have had different influences that have sparked new interests.

I will give you a musical example of recent vintage. There’s this 23-year-old musician named Jacob Collier from England. He’s almost self-taught. He sings. He plays dozens of instruments. He goes and creates. I find more and more as I get older and older, I am just stupefied by young talent in a way I never was. So someone like Jacob Collier comes along and he does harmonies in ways that are so astounding. I think he studied with Herbie Hancock and his level of inventiveness is so astounding. I feel like Salieri hearing Mozart for the first time. This guy just appears and he can spin and juggle 36 balls in the air while he’s talking to you. I just can’t take this! It’s just so amazing!

Chris is someone like that. Chris has that kind of mind. And I think working with Edgar gives me that sense of him. Because here’s this mind who is a perfectionist mind, in that he works things out in the perfectionist mentality where the abstract is really close to the reality. Usually I have an image of something and I’m going to translate that into a feeling, into a sound, and here it is. Edgar likes manipulating things in the abstract. That’s hard to do, because most of us like to work in the visible world, [which is a] tiny part of the spectrum in the universe.

So the invisible world, whether it is the larger universe or the micro universe, is something that most of us can’t experience… To go to trusting the abstract world, which we can’t see, and say that it’s real is very difficult. And so the question is, What is our faith in the invisible? That’s a big question. For me it is not a political question. It is a human question. As in, who do you trust and on what subjects? That’s very difficult because the world has become so complex.

And the world is so immediate and immense, and you are inundated from so many sides.

So, I grew up in three cultures, and each culture said, “We are the best!” I grew up as a 7-year-old — that is when I came to the States — saying, “Are you all crazy? You can’t all be right because you are claiming you’re the most right and that’s not logical!” So I had to figure out what that means. Just like, is bluegrass music the best? Is classical music the best? Is jazz the best? Is R&B the best? Is hip-hop the best?

I decline to think that way because that just gets me in trouble. Just because it doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t make sense logically. It doesn’t make sense to me sociologically. It doesn’t make sense to me as an American citizen because I take pride in all of the inventions we have made to the expressive world. And every new invention we have is a combination of a number of worlds.

You posted some music performances to your pandemic-inspired project, Songs of Comfort, to bring a little solace to people. How gratifying is it that it’s taken on a life of its own, with people around the world uploading videos?

One of the things that I have found out in this first trimester of the pandemic is how deeply people need one another. How deeply they need community. After lockdown, we see the beaches fill up, the bars fill up, and some people say that the economy must move. It’s totally understandable that we have that drive to be together. My way of thinking about it is to say, let’s be a community given the means we have.

In music, in service, it is always asking the question, “How can we help?” So it came from that impulse. That is a very natural impulse, which so many people have added to, or responded to, because we are all going through different versions of the same thing. We’re losing people. We’re stressed. We can’t find food. We can’t earn our living. We can’t plan. We can’t move around. We can’t be with one another.

But guess what? Music travels lightly. This is where the ephemeral is an advantage. It’s not something that needs to be moved by FedEx or a delivery person, but something we can transfer anywhere we want. It goes through walls. That’s why I say, in culture, music builds bridges because the bridges are not physical. Music doesn’t build walls; it builds bridges, because I can send you a link and there you have it.

I relished not only doing Songs of Comfort, but being able to Zoom into hospitals or getting to play for one patient. To send some music to one specific person to say, “I hear this is what you are going through. I’m so sympathetic. I’d like to send you this piece of music. Here it is. I recorded it on my phone.” And then send it to someone. That’s pretty personal. That to me is the essence of the aesthetic experience.

(Editor’s note: Read the remaining installments of our Artist of the Month interview series here.)

Photo credit: Josh Goleman

Ross Holmes, “Overture”

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

An instrument as agèd, storied, and established as the violin — henceforth in this piece obstinately referred to as “fiddle” — carries with it vestiges and artifacts of its own history into any/all of its new musical forays. It’s one of the most charming qualities of the instrument, that whether a rosin-laden bow grinds and saws against the strings or whether it floats, gently ringing an intransigent harmonic, a fiddle is still a fiddle. It is the sum of its disparate parts. 

Many virtuosos, hobbyists, and career musicians have staked their entire artistic worldviews on the paradoxes contained within the instrument. We in roots music quite often enjoy the musical aftereffects, songs and compositions that gleefully train magnifying glasses on paradigms such as classical versus jazz, old-time tunes versus minuets and cadenzas, or perhaps a chamber orchestra versus a square dance band. Ross Holmes, a session player, composer, and fiddler (Nitty Gritty Dirt Band, Mumford & Sons), counts himself among the violinist vanguard tinkering with the existential building blocks of the violin fiddle – a tradition and subculture he grew up with. “Overture,” an original, grandiloquent composition from Holmes, is something of a manifesto on the concept. (Listen below.)

The nearly fifteen-minute-long piece is performed entirely solo, beginning with a meditative, droning theme that Holmes describes as a “secular prayer.” As he carefully, intricately unspools each melodic turn, infusions from across the map — geographical and genre — are delivered directly from Holmes’ brain-as-musical-sponge to the listener’s ear. Each fluttering bow stroke, aggressive shuffle, and stunning double-stop speaks to the contributions of the fiddle in nearly every culture on earth. Throughout “Overture,” these global influences reflect the United States’ “melting pot” status — the greater piece for which this is the overture, after all, is titled: American Fiddle Suite. (Its remaining movements are a work-in-progress.)

Fiddling, by its nature, will be an outgrowth of all of the history, culture, and art that has flowed through it over the course of its centuries-long existence. What distinguishes Holmes and “Overture,” however, is the intention with which he connects all of these widespread dots. It makes sense, it’s tangible, and at its essence, it’s beautiful. It’s all the more impressive then, that though “Overture” is an entirely composed, ostensibly “classical” piece, not a note is yet written down. Holmes plays it all by memory — his memory, and the fiddle’s, too.

Photo credit: Micah Mathewson

Best of: Live From Here

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

This month brought the unfortunate news that Live From Here, hosted by Chris Thile, has been cancelled.

The American Public Media-produced radio show, previously known as A Prairie Home Companion, has been beloved by listeners since its inception in 1974, and continued in 2016 when the series was rebranded as Live From Here, with Thile leading the way.

The show was cut from production as a result of COVID-19’s widespread impact on the music and entertainment industries. On his socials, Thile graciously acknowledged the decision, stating the purpose of Live From Here as “a celebration of live, collaborative audible art.”

So, without further hesitation, let’s look at 11 of our favorite Live From Here moments.

“Dean Town” – Vulfpeck & Chris Thile

Perhaps one of the most loved Live From Here moments was Thile’s guest performance with Vulfpeck on their classic, “Dean Town.” One has every reason to assume that eye contact between Thile and Joe Dart is still going strong at this very moment.

“Fiddle Sticks” — Billy Contreras

It may be one of the lesser-viewed bits from the show, but this “Fast-AF” fiddle tune feature by Billy Contreras is certainly not short on notes. Two and a half minutes of pure double stops and bass walks.

“Lovesick Blues” — Brandi Carlile, Ben Folds, Chris Thile, & Sarah Jarosz

Ever wondered if Brandi Carlile could yodel on par with Jimmie Rodgers — or everyone’s favorite Walmart yodeling kid, Mason Ramsey? Well, look no further than this early Live From Here collaboration with Carlile, Thile, Ben Folds, and Sarah Jarosz.

“Change” – Mavis Staples

“Say it loud, say it clear!” We’ve shared this powerful performance from the legendary Mavis Staples before, but it is even more relevant now. Things are starting to change around here!

“Toy Heart / Marry Me / Jerusalem” – I’m With Her

Almost 10 minutes of mind blowing harmony and togetherness from I’m With Her, all beloved guests throughout the show’s course. As Thile so happily declares at the end, “There’s not a better band — in the world — than I’m With Her.”

“In Da Club” / Musician Birthdays – Julian Lage, O’Donovan, Thile, and More

What could be better than the composer of 50 Cent’s “In Da Club” jamming with Chris Thile, or Julian Lage playing Django Reinhardt? Oh that’s right: it’s Aoife O’Donovan singing Dolly Parton’s “9 to 5.”

“Blue Skies” – Andrew Bird & Chris Thile

Not only does this pair look quite the same, but their playing together is divine, and one of the last Live From Here moments we were graced with before shutdown.

“Kodachrome” – Paul Simon

This one’ll make you think all the world is a sunny day. Just look at Thile’s face!

“Can’t Find My Way Home (Blind Faith)” – Rachael Price

The tonal map of this moment is pure magic. Lake Street Dive’s Rachael Price supported by Thile’s harmony, Mike Elizondo’s bass lines, Brittany Haas’s fiddle playing — need we say more?

“Winter Boy” – Amanda Brown

Since Thile’s takeover as host, Live From Here has always had a strong female vocalist on stage. From Aoife O’Donovan to Sarah Jarosz to Gaby Moreno to more recent guest Amanda Brown — these women have been an integral part of the show’s cast and performance. Enjoy Brown’s beautiful take on this Buffy Sainte-Marie classic. 

“Hard Times” – Chris Thile

It only seems right to acknowledge the many efforts of the Live From Here cast and crew to bring listeners the show, recast as “Live From Home,” in the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic and global shutdown. For the last three months, those at the show worked tirelessly to bring us the weekly program, with the help of dozens of musicians, show regulars, and the #LiveFromHome social media campaign.

All we have left to say is — thank you to Chris Thile, all of the musicians, crew, and those who made Live From Here possible. And we hope these “Hard Times” we’re all living in together come again no more.

Photo credit: Nate Ryan

MIXTAPE: Songs That Changed Jon Stickley’s Life and Still Blow His Mind

Posted on by Editor

When I was a senior in high school, my lacrosse teammate Andy Thorn loaned me a couple CDs and a mandolin. The two CDs were the original David Grisman Quintet album and Sam Bush’s Glamour and Grits. I was an angsty teen drummer in a punk band, and when I popped the Grisman album in my Sony Discman and pushed play, my life changed forever.

We started a little band and I started learning mandolin and making weekly trips to the local record store to buy every “newgrass” album I could. I didn’t know anything, so searching through the bluegrass/country section was an adventure of discovery. I learned to recognize the font that Rounder Records used and started using liner notes to find other musicians to listen to.

A lot of the tracks on this list are track #1 on the album, and I think that’s because when I heard them for the first time, they magically seared themselves into my brain. When I hear them today they inspire the same excitement as they did when I first heard them, and they have had an enormous impact on the music that I create for the Jon Stickley Trio. — Jon Stickley

David Grisman – “E.M.D.”

The first track I ever heard in the vein of bluegrass/newgrass. I heard David Count “1,2,3,4…” just like the Ramones! Then they launch into the most indescribable, unbelievable, clean, rockin’ jam I’ve ever heard. Also my first introduction to my guitar hero, Tony Rice. Nothing compares to this track!

Sam Bush – “Whayasay”

Another leading cut. This was my introduction to the one and only Sam Bush. His kickoff tells you everything you need to know about Sam’s music. It’s masterful, tasteful, and it freakin’ ROCKS. Then he goes totally Mark Knopfler at the end. Blew my young mind!

Jerry Douglas, Russ Barenburg & Edgar Meyer – “Big Sciota”

I picked this record up at the store because, on the back cover, they are dressed in gorilla suits. I thought, these dudes MUST be cool. Something about the tone of this record is unparalleled. It’s just the nicest-sounding acoustic record I’ve ever heard. Still cook dinner to it almost every night and my wife walked down the aisle to another track from the album called “The Years Between.”

Ricky Skaggs & Kentucky Thunder – “Pig In A Pen”

Holy crap. This is another album I bought blind at the record shop knowing absolute nothing about the music. To this day I have never heard anything rock this hard! Also, my first intro to a big guitar hero, Bryan Sutton.

Bryan Sutton – “Decision At Glady Fork”

Senior year of high school my uncle Pat took me to the Béla Fleck Bluegrass Sessions concert. I knew who Sam Bush and Béla were, but it was my first time hearing Jerry Douglas, Stuart Duncan, and the young Bryan Sutton. They played this song and the audience pooped their pants!

Béla Fleck – “Blue Mountain Hop”

The ultimate supergroup in my opinion. This song got me thinking about composition and arrangement in a new way. It seems like each new part of the song was written with each individual soloist in mind. Also the giggles and growls in the intro remind you that they’re having a ball.

Béla Fleck & the Flecktones – “Sinister Minister”

Two words. Victor Wooten. Blew. My. Young. Mind! I’ve listened to this version of this song more times than I can count, and it’s one of the covers that we do in the trio. The Flecktones probably had more of an impact on our trio than anyone else out there.

The Bluegrass Album Band – “Blue Ridge Cabin Home”

This is another album where I had no idea what I was buying. It wasn’t until I looked at the back of the CD that I realized that Tony Rice was on it. It was my introduction to J.D. Crowe, Doyle Lawson, Bobby Hicks, and Todd Phillips. I fell in love with bluegrass banjo by listening to this song, and I was thrilled to find out there were five more volumes!!!

The Nashville Bluegrass Band – “Dog Remembers Bacon”

Another record store score that I grabbed just because “bluegrass” was in the title. LOL. These guys became my favorite group for years and this was always one of my favorite tracks. I learned about Gillian Welch from this album. Stuart Duncan is the best fiddler in the world!

Acoustic Syndicate – “No Time”

Man, I love these dudes SO much. My Uncle Pat gave this album to my dad around ‘98, and I promptly stole it. The chill energy of this album really spoke to me and I feel like it really embodies the spirit of the North Carolina festival scene. Super sentimental band for me!

Tracks from our new album “Scripting the Flip” that draw heavy on these influences:

Jon Stickley Trio – “Scripting the Flip”

This song is pretty much a bluegrass fiddle tune turned on its head. It reminds me of some of my favorite newgrass instrumentals that take the music somewhere new.

Jon Stickley Trio – “Driver”

Well, given that my buddy Andy Thorn got me into this music waaaaay back in the day, I had to bring it full circle and write a tune for him to come in and play on. This piece definitely draws on the music of the Flecktones and some of the tunes they play in odd meters.

Jon Stickley Trio – “Bluegrass in the Backwoods”

Kenny Baker, Bill Monroe’s longtime fiddler, was surprisingly one of the most innovative of the classic bluegrass pickers! He is thought of as a traditional fiddler, but his music is really anything but. I think this tune was way ahead of its time and we love the elements of gypsy jazz and Latin music in the melody. We HAD to cover this on at some point and it was so much fun!

Photo credit: Sandlin Gaither

The Show On The Road – Kat Edmonson

Posted on by Chris Jacobs

This week on The Show On The Road, we bring you a two-part conversation between host Z. Lupetin and folk-jazz visionary Kat Edmonson. The first part was captured backstage before a show at Largo in LA, right before the beginning of the COVID-19 shutdown. In the second part, Z. caught up with Edmonson during her anxious but creative quarantine in New York City. 


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Initially turning heads for her dreamy and futuristic interpretations of great songbook classics like Gershwin’s “Summertime,” which have been listened to over ten million times and counting, Edmonson broke through with playful original works a decade ago, self-producing one of Z.’s all-time favorite records, Take to the Sky. She quickly found powerful fans in folks like Lyle Lovett, who she toured with wildly. Major label releases followed. Edmonson soon migrated from her home state of Texas to Brooklyn, with her elfin chanteuse look and sparkling vintage sound (think Blossom Dearie with some Texan muscle).

Z. and Edmonson sat down to discuss her newest record, Dreamers Do, which may just be the shot of pure cinematic nostalgia we all need right now. Does she cover Mary Poppins, Alice In Wonderland, and Pinocchio and somehow make them deeply cool, sonically subversive, and somehow brand new again? She sure does.  

For First Solo Album, Sam Doores Opens the Map of Musical Influences

Posted on by Editor

Sam Doores cut his teeth as a Bay Area-born teen troubadour busking around the U.S. before he got his first real break with a steady gig at an Irish pub in New Orleans. In that same city he co-created some of the last decade’s most arresting socially-conscious anthems with Hurray for the Riff Raff and made sparkling folk- and country-derived excursions with his own band, the Deslondes.

And now he’s got his first solo album, Sam Doores, recorded primarily in Berlin and filled with echoes of everything from Tin Pan Alley to the Mississippi hill country, from French Quarter jazz to California psychedelic-folk-rock.

So, let’s talk about Cambodian rock ’n’ roll. “Cambodian Rock n’ Roll” is, in fact, the title of one of the songs on the album.

“No one’s asked me about that!” he says, excitedly, on the phone from New Orleans, where he’s lived now for 14 years. “Do you know the compilation, Cambodian Rocks?”

It’s a 1996 collection of recordings made by a wealth of artists in Cambodia who embraced American surf, garage-rock and psychedelic styles and gave them scintillating Southeast Asian twists, before the brutal reign of the Khmer Rouge, in which many of those performers were killed or imprisoned.

“A friend played it for me one time on a road trip and I fell in love with the style and sound,” he says, adding that he then watched Never Forget, a documentary about that time. “So heartbreaking, and after watching it the music hits on a deeper level.”

Now to be clear, the song doesn’t sound like Cambodian rock ’n’ roll, but rather is a “tip of the cap” to it, in a somber reminiscence about listening to it with the friend who introduced him to that music. The songs on Sam Doores aren’t tinged with that tragedy, yet there is a wistful, muted melancholy and sadness throughout. “There’s some darkness, for sure,” he says.

Well, there’s going to be. It’s a breakup record, after all, largely coming from the end of a long-term relationship. The album explores various shades of that darkness, of unsettling loss and longing. There’s often light shining through, with residual and resurgent hope and joy. To some extent it all comes together, brutally, midway through the album with the song “Had a Dream,” born out of two losses that happened in his life over the four years in which the material on the album came together.

“That came to me when I knew I was losing someone who had been one of the closest people in my whole life, and I knew I wasn’t going to be able to get that person back,” he says. “And a friend of mine was dying. It’s about eventual letting go. For a long time I thought my friend was going to pull through, beat his sickness, and I thought I was not going to lose my love. Both ended up getting lost. I wrote about that time. Wanted the music to have the frantic, desperate feeling on the verses, but also the melancholy of the choruses.”

The sensibilities tie together seemingly disparate emotions, and disparate musical tones. On one end is the upbeat, generous and genuine “Wish You Well,” one of several songs featuring members of Tuba Skinny, a leader of a vibrant wave of young bands enlivening traditional New Orleans jazz. On the other, the very downcast acoustic guitar “Red Leaf Rag,” evoking a “dark dream world” that he says really should have been called a “drag” rather than a “rag,” or maybe a “dirge.” It’s all no less a factor on songs occupying the middle ground, including “Other Side of Town,” co-written with and featuring lead vocals of Doores’ longtime musical partner, Hurray for the Riff Raff’s dynamic leader, Alynda Segarra.

They also tie together, or perhaps are tied together by, the two cities in which the songs were shaped: New Orleans and Berlin. In many ways the album is the story of his 14 years in the former, having arrived when he was just 19.

“I was hitchhiking on my way [here] when Hurricane Katrina hit [in August 2005] and ended up in Austin for a while” he says. “Met some New Orleans musicians who had relocated there and they talked me into coming to JazzFest in 2006. I felt like I’d left the country. By far the most exciting place I’d been. Been to Havana, Cuba, once before. My high school jazz band went there. Reminded me more of that than anywhere. Was just going to be here one weekend.”

New Orleans has a way of changing people’s plans. That first day he stumbled upon an unannounced small-stage set by Elvis Costello and Allen Toussaint warming up for their later big-stage show, and later saw the incredibly powerful performance in which Bruce Springsteen debuted his folky, New Orleans-esque Seeger Sessions Band, a show that had tens of thousands in the devastated city shedding tears of both sorrow and hope — and turned Doores from a Bruce doubter to a fan. He also had his first encounter with the colorful, beaded-and-feathered Mardi Gras Indian troupes, and he was smitten with it all.

“It totally felt like the beginning of the rest of my life that day,” he says.

Having spent all of his money, he went to busk on Bourbon Street, the owner of the now-gone Kelly’s Irish pub saw him and hired him for a regular gig. “He said, ‘Want to try your luck on a real stage?’” Doores says. “I thought, ‘Wow! Playing inside?’”

Soon he met Segarra and formed a musical partnership that evolved into Hurray for the Riff Raff. As that band took off, he launched the Deslondes (named after the street on which he was living) as a second creative outlet. Through it all, the love and loss captured in Sam Doores took place.

It was in Berlin that he found the environment in which he could shape that into the album; that took place over the course of four years in a studio built by producer Anders Christopherson.

“I actually didn’t know Anders until we started recording,” he says. “He wrote me and Alynda one time out of the blue. Had heard a record of a band we were in together, Sundown Songs. Wrote and said if you are ever coming through Berlin I’d love to record you.”

Not long after, as it happened, the Deslondes were doing the band’s first European tour, so he arranged to spend a week in Berlin and by the end of that time he determined to make a full record there, though it would have to be done in four different stretches over several years. Christopherson put together a “house” band to bring Doores’ ideas to life, primarily himself and a Spanish keyboardist named, yes, Carlos Santana. A lot of experimentation happened with combinations of instruments — vibes, autoharp, an electronic “disc” organ, glockenspiel, and so on. And realizing Doores’ long-standing ambition, strings were added to some songs in arrangements by Manon Parent.

Somehow, it all works as an integrated whole.

“I think there are some core instruments we tended to use in the arrangements that sonically thread the record together,” he says. “In terms of influences, a lot of different tones. Some old New Orleans R&B, some of the opposite — psychedelic folk experimental soundtrack music.”

In some places it might remind of the “vintage” touches associated with such figures as Harry Nilsson and Van Dyke Parks. Doores loves those comparisons, then observes, “We listened to a lot of Nina Simone and early reggae — a lot of Upsetters, early Studio One stuff, early Wailers. Anders has an incredible record collection. Wherever we weren’t recording, we were in his kitchen listening to that stuff. We didn’t do any straight up reggae, but it influenced us in some ways, the bass lines and the organ.”

That was just part of the musical and personal oasis he found there, a space that let him find the full expression for his New Orleans stories. The importance of that is so profound that he wrote an instrumental impression of that environment, “Tempelhofer Dawn,” a gentle, muted, nostalgic waltz — and ultimately chose it to open the album, to serve as a curtain-raiser on the song cycle that follows.

“Tempelhofer is the name of the street the studio is on,” he says. “A lot of moments after late nights going out, or early mornings waking up, I spent a lot of time there with the birds or children playing and that gave a feeling that matched the song.”

He recorded it live in studio, with himself on piano joined by Santana on organ and Parent and Mia Bodet on violins. “It’s a nice way to ease into the record,” he says.

In many ways, given the breakup at the heart of the album, it sounds like both a beginning and an ending.

“It felt like the first track,” he says. “Or the last track.”

Photo credit: Sarrah Danzinger

BGS Long Reads of the Week // March 20

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

If you’ve got the time, we’ve got the reading material! Our brand new #longreadoftheday series looks back into the BGS archives for some of our favorite reporting, videos, interviews, and more — featured every day throughout the week. You can follow along on social media [on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram] and right here, where we’ll wrap up each week’s stories in one place. 

Check out our long reads of the week:

Ten Years After Crazy Heart, Ryan Bingham Comes Around to “The Weary Kind”

For our Roots On Screen series we revisited the 2009 film Crazy Heart and one iconic song from its soundtrack, “The Weary Kind.” We spoke to writer Ryan Bingham in September 2019 about the Oscar Award-winning song and how it took him ten years to find the solace Jeff Bridges’ character Bad Blake finds in the piece. [Read more]

The 50 Greatest Bluegrass Albums Made by Women

Bluegrass Albums Made by Women

It is Women’s History Month, after all, so it’s worth spending some time with this collection of amazing albums made by women in bluegrass. This piece, inspired by NPR Music’s Turning the Tables series, is a list of albums chosen by artists, musicians, and writers simply because they were impactful, incredible, and made by women. [See the list]

Sam Lee’s Garden Grows Songs and Fights Climate Change

Sam Lee, wearing denim, sits in a cluttered room in front of a bookshelf

An appropriate topic for times such as these, folk singer Sam Lee utilizes re-imagined and rearranged ancient folk songs in modern contexts to advocate for social justice and fight the climate crisis. Beyond that very important mission statement, though, the songs are lush, verdant, and beautifully intuitive to digest and interact with. [Read the interview]

Preservation Hall: Honoring Time’s Tradition

Given that so many of us have had to cancel travel, postpone tours, reschedule vacations and so much more, why don’t we take a long read trip to New Orleans and visit a venerable, undying source of the best in American (roots) musical traditions, Preservation Hall. Since the early 1960s Preservation Hall and the Preservation Hall Jazz Band have cultivated and spread New Orleans brass band jazz around the world — even collaborating with bluegrass greats like the Del McCoury Band. [Read more]

Canon Fodder: Aretha Franklin, ‘Amazing Grace’

We all need more Aretha in our lives — and in our ears! — and we all need a little more grace, too. To wrap up the week, we revisit our Canon Fodder series, which takes iconic records and songs and unspools their intricacies, their idiosyncrasies, and their impacts across decades and generations. Amazing Grace was Franklin’s best-selling album, and the best-selling Black gospel album ever recorded. It certainly deserves the “deep dive” treatment. [Read more]

 

How the Wood Brothers Made an Album out of a Print Shop Jam Session

Posted on by Editor

The Wood Brothers have been together as long as they were apart. For fifteen years or so Chris and Oliver Wood pursued separate careers — Oliver out of Atlanta as a blues/rock guitarist and singer, and Chris out of New York as the bass player with the uncanny jazz/jam success story Medeski, Martin & Wood. Then they sat in together and felt a pull energized by family ties and musical curiosity, and their folk duo was born, about fifteen years ago.

Chris jokes that over seven studio albums and uncountable miles on the road, they’ve been on “a slow rise to the middle” but that’s far too self-deprecating. Their last opus, 2018’s One Drop of Truth, was nominated for a Grammy, and not long after it was released the band headlined the Ryman Auditorium and Red Rocks Amphitheatre (their hometown shrine, as they grew up in Boulder, Colorado). In September, they released their fourth live album, culling songs from a two-night stand at the Fillmore in San Francisco, where their highly developed musical telepathy — between the brothers and with drummer/keyboard player Jano Rix — was on vibrant display in a warm sonic atmosphere.

Newly minted is Kingdom In My Mind, an 11-song collection inspired largely by the feel of a new studio. The band and their sound engineer Brook Sutton had to move out of the old church-like studio where they’d made One Drop of Truth, but they found a new place nearby on Nashville’s west side. The brothers spoke to BGS about how that new destination shaped the sound of their latest project.

BGS: I understand that shaking down your new recording space produced proved unexpectedly productive?

Oliver: In our downtime we’ve always had some sort of rehearsal space, whether it was Chris’s basement or something, where we would just improvise and come up with musical ideas. I think all of us enjoy the art of improvising and playing music without thought and without purpose. We’re not trying to write a song. We’re not trying to sound good even. We’re just trying to play something new. Chris and I will react off each other, or off Jano, and do that musical communication that can happen if you just listen. We’ve always done that. And we’ve always recorded it on a phone or on a laptop just to remember. Whereas this time we set up and did the same process but we had a professional studio and an engineer miking everything up so it was usable.

Chris: Yeah, we didn’t know what we were doing. We didn’t know this was going to be the beginning of a record. We’d got a studio and put a lot of work into getting it up and running and sounding how we wanted it with baffles and things like that. But then it was, well, this is a huge room. Where do you set up? Where do you put the drums? Let’s put them over here. Let’s see what that sounds like. And we set up near each other and threw some mics up intuitively. I think we were struck immediately as soon as we heard playback. Even with that haphazard setup, it sounded great. Something about the room made us play a certain way. It felt magical and inspired. So immediately we looked at each other and said, “Maybe this is how we make this record.” So we did maybe five sessions where we set up and improvised in different parts of the studio. There’s a big A room, which you could almost fit an orchestra, and then a smaller, dryer room. So we had fun with all kinds of different variations.

Can you give us a visual and the background of the place and why it became home?

Chris: It’s an old print shop. So what we call the B room is smaller. It’s probably where people came in and got stuff photocopied.

Oliver: And then the back room — after it was a print shop and before we got it — was a dance studio with a dance floor and high ceilings. It was probably a warehouse at some point. This is not a fancy building. It’s cinder block.

So you had to look at this print shop/warehouse/dance studio and imagine a plan?

Chris: It was easy, and it had to do with the layout. It was very clear immediately. The control room goes here. From that room you have access to both tracking rooms. There’s even a lounge. There’s a room with a loading dock that can also be an isolation room. And it’s all in a circular layout. Everything about it was easy to imagine how we could be up and running quickly once we got our stuff in there.

Oliver: It was luck. And it was cheaper than we expected. But I’ll add to that process that Chris was talking about. The improvising we like so much, almost never can you use that stuff on an album. Normally you perform songs to make albums. So Chris got really good at editing these improvs. These are just jams, maybe in the key of A for 20 minutes. Maybe we switch chords every once in a while. Maybe we don’t. But Chris started chopping them up (in audio software). And we realized that we could arrange these improvisations.

And the beautiful thing — which usually gets lost — is your first impression of things. Like when you’re inspired. You play something, and you’ll never do it again. But we actually captured those moments and were able to use them on the album. And so the things that all of us love about albums are these anomalies, little mistakes or weird things that bleed together — things that if you were thinking about a song you’d never have played. To us, that had a freshness that Chris was able to chop up, and we were able to write lyrics over these new collage-y things.

Chris: Like Sly Stone said, there’s a rhythm when you don’t know what you’re doing. And we really take that to heart. I think that’s why a lot of musicians who have been doing this a long time really cherish first takes. Because before all the musicians really know the song, they’ll play things that they’d never play once they really know the song. For a lot of us, I mean for me certainly, it’s always a red flag when we do a take and I feel like I really nailed (it). It’s almost a guarantee that that’s not the take. Not the good one. The good one was the one before, when I was searching and didn’t quite know what was happening next.

Oliver: Discomfort is good.

Chris: A little bit, yeah. You don’t want to know too much.

Right out of the box on “Alabaster” there’s this over-driven sound like a Rhodes piano and I wonder if maybe that was just an accident that worked?

Oliver: Absolutely. That was recorded the first day we set up. Jano was playing drums and keyboard at the same time. He had this keyboard rig with a crappy little amplifier and it just sounded like that. And again, we weren’t thinking about a song at all. We were all in one room in a circle, and it just happened to be cool.

Chris: We were thinking sounds more than anything. Oliver had this great Stella guitar that he recently got set up. I’m sure Jano played that sound on purpose because he liked it. It was very intuitive and in the moment. So he didn’t have to worry if it was fitting a song or not. He just liked the sound. That’s kind of what we were going for.

You both come from improvised music backgrounds, one jazz and one blues-based. When I heard these tracks, I felt like the Medeski, Martin & Wood approach and the Wood Brothers approach have never been closer. Also, Jano plays with even more freedom. This feels like a jazz record in many ways.

Chris: I absolutely agree. This is the most meshed those worlds have ever been. It was definitely a long-term goal to get to this point. Little by little, not only integrating the MMW background with the songwriting, but also, just as you said, Jano is such a talent and can do so many things. Great drummer. Amazing keyboard player, percussionist. Great singer and producer. So to integrate all of his talents into what we were doing as a duo took some time, you know?

I think that’s why it works. When you improvise, all your knowledge, all the music that’s inside you, can come out. It’s not restricted by a song that’s been written already. Jano’s drumming and all of our playing is featured more because we were improvising to create the source material for the songs and were able to keep that. In the past I loved all the songs, but there’s a lot more that we can do. Improvising is a way to showcase that.

Oliver: It does inform how you play live too. We learned that you don’t always have to be right on the money. It’s fun to pretend like you’re in a punk band for a minute or something and kind of let loose and try something different.

Here it is about 15 years into this journey. Maybe it’s been an even bigger force in your lives than you thought. What have you learned, as musicians and family?

Oliver: I bet we take it for granted doing it all the time and being busy with it, but certainly in the last 15 years I feel like Chris and I were slightly estranged in that we were living in different places and playing with different people. We had sort of lost touch. So initially, yeah, the music brought us back together and we were able to combine our shared interests and experiences. That was awesome, and it was how we reconnected as brothers. And it’s nice to have a family business, especially a creative one, where we get to do that together and make a living too.

Chris: Yeah, people usually frame the beginning of this band as if it must have been a casual side project. But I never thought about it that way. It was exciting from the beginning. And for both of us, in different ways, coming full circle. We grew up with our dad playing music live around the house, you know, folk songs. Playing and singing. And that was, we realized, a huge influence.

I always liked singing when I was younger and ended up in Medeski, Martin & Wood, an instrumental band, for 20 years. I hadn’t been singing, so it was scary, but it was something I was really excited about getting into again. And just the way we write songs and composing with my brother is really fun and different. Whereas MMW was, as you said, a lot of improvisation, I also like writing. It was nice to get into that too.

Pulling back, MMW was a band that took real jazz to the jam band audience. And I feel like there are bands that hover between the world of the jam audience, which loves freedom and surprise, and the songwriter audience, which focuses more on the lyrical emotion. And maybe those bands never quite get totally accepted by either camp. How have you all mapped that?

Oliver: That’s well put, and I think we ride that fence, and enjoy it for the most part. It’s a nice balance. Personally I like to hear somewhere in the middle. I like to hear a good song, but I also like to hear some musical interplay. I think a balance of those things is really cool.

Chris: Yeah, one of the things that can be amazing about music is when there’s some mystery. You don’t quite understand what’s happening up there but it still is engaging. And how do you do that? There’s no formula. Nobody knows. Which is why we never get tired of this job. You know, you can’t figure it out. You stumble upon it sometimes, but it’s not always obvious how you get to that magical balance between the two.

Oliver: It’s always a fun challenge for us to take a good simple song but set it apart and give it its own sound. So use a weirder guitar. Use a broken thing. But make it something you haven’t done before and you haven’t heard somebody else do before. That’s kind of what we’re always doing.

We talk about this all the time. Sometimes we’ll write a song and use just cowboy chords and write it like a country song. Then [we’ll] mess up the music completely and make it our own thing somehow. So it’s a combination of all this classic stuff we love. And then, how can we make a new classic?

Craig Havighurst is host of The String from WMOT Roots Radio in Nashville and a longtime journalist covering roots music.

Photos: Alysse Gafkjen