Tag: Jeff Austin

25 Years On, Yonder Mountain String Band Keep Redefining Bluegrass

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

For a quarter century Yonder Mountain String Band has inspired a generation of bluegrass fans with its fusion of traditional sounds and intricate jams. That trend continues on Nowhere Next. The band’s first full-length album since 2022, it showcases the abilities of its two newest members – mandolinist and vocalist Nick Piccininni and fiddler Coleman Smith – front and center.

Piccininni connected with the group in January 2020 and Smith was added earlier this year, joining the band’s longtime core of bassist Ben Kaufmann, guitarist Adam Aijala, and banjo player Dave Johnston, collectively bringing a new energy to the band that harkens back to its early days – when they also consisted of the frenetic and oftentimes unpredictable Jeff Austin. Despite being in the band for nearly five years now and co-writing nine of the album’s 11 songs, Piccininni says that joining up with such an established collective was intimidating at first.

“It’s definitely daunting when you come into something that’s been around as long as these guys have,” Piccininni admits to BGS. “But working with Adam, Ben, and Dave has actually come very naturally. They’ve made me comfortable in expressing opinions about the music and giving my two cents. They’ve not once made me feel like I was an outsider.”

In our latest installment of First & Latest, we chart the band’s evolution and trailblazing nature from their 1999 debut, Elevation, all the way to their brand new album, Nowhere Next, a collection that features old favorites familiar to longtime fans alongside new songs sure to make you fall in love with them all over again.

Two songs on this record – “Didn’t Go Wrong” and “River” – have been a part of your live show for years, even making it on to different iterations of your Mountain Tracks compilations. What made y’all want to finally give them a proper studio treatment?

Adam Aijala: Ben sings on and had been pushing both of those. We have about 30 songs we’ve written over the years that aren’t on a formal record yet. Even before Nick joined the band, we’d been thinking about getting into the studio and recording some of them. That being said, I still prefer to write new stuff. When people ask me how you keep going after a quarter century, I always say that if we weren’t writing new material I don’t know that we would still be around. You’ve got to keep things fresh, whether that’s learning new covers or having your own new stuff to perform.

Given the mix of new and old on this record, both in terms of the song selection and rotation of band members, what are your thoughts on where Nowhere Next stacks up with the rest of the Yonder catalog?

AA: When Get Yourself Outside came out, I thought that was our best record, but now I think this one is. I still hold an affinity for albums like Elevation and Town by Town, but I’m really happy with Nowhere Next and what we were able to do on it. It’s still bluegrass, maybe not the traditional kind, but Yonder Mountain’s bluegrass with varied rhythms, tempos, and styles.

One of our biggest influences is The Grateful Dead, and they’re the same way. In the years between their albums – from their self-titled first album to their Skulls & Roses live album, Wake of the Flood, Terrapin Station, and Workingman’s Dead – they evolved in different ways, but always stuck to a similar blueprint no matter what musicians happened to be around them. Similarly, you can still hear elements of what we did on our first few albums today, which songs like “Didn’t Go Wrong” and “River” further help bridge the gap to.

One song that I feel ties together all of the elements that make up “Yonder Mountain’s bluegrass,” that you just spoke of really well, is Nick’s song, “Secondhand Smoke.” Mind sharing a bit about how that one came to be?

Nick Piccininni: The basis of that is that I went through a divorce and when I separated from my wife the first apartment I got had my landlord living downstairs. He was unfortunately confined to a wheelchair and just sat there chain-smoking cigarettes one after the other. I only lasted a month there before I went out and found a new place. In that sense the song was very literal, but there was also the aspect of going through a big change in your life while living in a small town and feeling like everyone is watching you and talking behind your back.

Interesting. I picked up on the themes of deceit, but the literal reference to secondhand smoke is a nice touch. What does the band’s songwriting process look like as a whole, especially with Nick and Coleman now part of the band?

AA: Everybody in this band has written songs that I really like. With that in mind, I don’t think it’s a “too many cooks in the kitchen” kind of situation. It’s more like, I trust that we’re going to get the best song by letting everyone have a listen, peek at it, and hear what they have to say, whether it’s with one of my songs or someone else’s. I’m not someone to hold my ideas close. It’s better not to be married to them, for me at least. For instance, when Dave tells me he doesn’t like something of mine, it doesn’t bother me because he’s not saying it to be hurtful, he’s just giving his opinion and I trust him when it comes to that.

For me most of my songwriting ideas start with music first. I don’t have a great writing regimen or practice, I just wait for something to spark interest and roll with it. But if it’s music first and I don’t really have an idea on what it would be about, I think on the mood of the music and what those chords and potential melody makes me feel and go from there.

What about you, Nick? And has your process changed at all since joining Yonder?

NP: Historically, for me, I’ve been a music-driven ideas guy too. On most days I’ll sit down at home, pick up my guitar and record or work on a few voice memos. Lately I’ve also gotten into a better habit of working on a lyric while on an airplane or sitting at a hotel because we have so much downtime with all of our travel. At the same time, things have changed a lot in the last four and a half years of being with Yonder though. Prior to joining them I’d never co-written. Getting that outside perspective on my songwriting is something I’d not experienced before and has been incredibly beneficial to me.

Although it’s not Nowhere Next or new songs, I wanted to briefly discuss your I’d Like Off EP, a previously unreleased project from 2010 featuring former member, Jeff Austin, that dropped earlier this year. What was the motivation behind finally sharing those recordings?

AA: When we recorded it our intent was to do a full album. We recorded about 13 tracks for it in pre-production at my house, some of which ended up on the EP and others that were never recorded. We’ve had a couple projects like this that we’ve sat on so long that we didn’t see much of a point in releasing so far down the road, but with this one we decided to move forward since everything was done aside from it being mixed and mastered. We’ve been playing “What the Night Brings” and other songs from it live regularly, as well. It helps to keep us interested, which in turn keeps the crowd interested and connected to what we’re doing as well.

What has your time with Yonder Mountain String Band taught you about yourself?

AA: It’s helped to hone my social interactions. If there’s one thing in life I’ve learned it’s that the world doesn’t revolve around you, especially when you’re a traveling outfit with multiple people. You’ve got to learn to roll with things and when we first started the band I wasn’t like that. Before I joined the band, I traveled all over the country in my own vehicle by myself. I got so used to going where I wanted when I wanted, but in a band it’s the exact opposite.

NP: It’s taught me how impatient I can be. Musically, it’s been cool because I’ve usually played banjo, fiddle, and more melodic instruments, but stepping into a mandolin role has taught me just how much of the snare drum of bluegrass it really is and learning to just do one very simple thing repeatedly and lock in on it. It’s been one of the most challenging things I’ve had to take on and pushing myself to do it to the best of my ability has been neat.

Photo Credit: Robin Vega

Banjo Player Kyle Tuttle Reflects on Personal Growth and ‘Labor of Lust’

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

One of the most talented and sought after banjo players in bluegrass, Kyle Tuttle’s life has been full of the highest of highs and lowest of lows in recent years, from a marriage and divorce to the surprise death of close friend and bandmate Jeff Austin to the loss of his job due to COVID and finally hitting the road as a member of Molly Tuttle & Golden Highway.

All of that and more are documented on Labor of Lust (out February 16), an 11-song expedition taking listeners on a deeply personal and sonically diverse journey of tragedy and triumph. Recorded across three separate sessions in Nashville dating back to 2018, the record also documents a significant chunk of Tuttle’s life that, despite the length of time and changes that come with it, aren’t lacking a central theme. This led him to describing the project as “a long work-in-progress,” due to how its focus shifted throughout the more than five years of bringing it to life.

“By the time it was all said and done, this was a pretty eclectic group of songs,” Tuttle tells BGS. “There’s some stuff with an electric band that includes drums and me on electric banjo, others with traditional string band arrangements and some that meet in the middle for a more jamgrass sound.”

One of the songs that bridge the gap between these two worlds of bluegrass is “Hard to Say,” a song that sees Tuttle grieving the loss of Austin, his marriage, and his job all at the same time. It’s anchored by his blistering banjo backbone with introspective lyrics like, “Knowing that it’s gone and gone for good, makes you wonder what the hell you’re waiting on?” that serve as a message to himself and anybody listening to ask the questions you need to ask, then play another one.

“Even though the music and lyrics were written over a handful of years, loss and learning to deal with it on a personal level is central to this record,” indicates Tuttle. “That being said, there’s a lot of joy within these songs too. I don’t want to make it seem like I wrote music for five years and all I experienced was misery. Loss is something we all have to deal with at one time or another, and my way of dealing with it was to write some of this music.”

Speaking by phone from his snowed-in Nashville home following a mid-January winter storm, Tuttle opened up about how he approaches being a bandleader compared to his current gig with Golden Highway, being stuck in a Bob Ross painting, choosing to work doing something you love, and more.

You’re notorious for staying extremely busy in your musical endeavors, from sitting in with folks on stage and in the studio to your stints with the Jeff Austin band, (your current gig with) Molly Tuttle, and your own compositions and projects, like Labor of Lust. With that in mind, how do you approach your own music versus being a member of someone else’s band?

Kyle Tuttle: It’s a bit different, because with my own show I’m the bandleader, along with other variables. With my shows, I play with lots of different members, I don’t have one set group of people that know my body of material super well, but rather lots of friends I can call on who all have different strengths. For that reason, when fronting my own band I’m more in the headspace of trying to wrangle all these people and variables together for a cohesive show, whereas with Molly we all have our roles that are specifically defined. One role isn’t more comfortable to me than the other, they just both require different things from me.

Is that comfort what had you leaning on friends like Travis Book, Dominick Leslie, and Lindsay Lou in the studio instead of session players?

It speaks very similarly to what we were just talking about with putting together a version of the Kyle Tuttle Band for shows. I wouldn’t use the term session player though, because even though all of these people are my friends they can also be called “session players” for their work on other’s records, because they’re all so good at what they do. I pick them very specifically based on their strengths and what they’ll bring to the music. I’ve been lucky through my years in the business to build personal connections with an awesome group of people that I can call when I’m looking to create something.

Although not an original, I really enjoy your cover of Harry Nilsson’s “Turn On The Radio” that closes the album. What drew you to that song of his in particular instead of “Coconut” or another of Nilsson’s gems?

I’m gonna have to work on a “Coconut” cover next, because that song is awesome! In all seriousness, [“Turn On The Radio”] felt like a thematically appropriate way to close this album. At the end of the day, I’m just a jamgrass stoner that plays banjo wanting to make a record that people can enjoy and have fun with. This record has some heavy undertones, so I felt like it deserved a nice ribbon on top to end it. It speaks to me big time, [about] remembering those near and dear who you’ve lost, especially if they’re an artist doing something you can hear. That sentiment of “turn on your record player, listen to my song, turn on your night light baby, I’m gone” felt like the right words to capture that feeling even though I didn’t say them, Harry did! I’ve loved the song for a while, so when I began putting this record together it immediately made sense to close it with this.

In terms of your own songs, I understand that “Trailer In Boulder Canyon” came together at two different times, similar to the recording process for all of Labor of Lust?

That’s a funny one, because as I said previously, I’m just a jamgrass stoner banjo player. First and foremost it’s a fun, feel good song about a magical place — a shitty little trailer on the side of a mountain up in Nederland, Colorado, where you don’t have to worry about any of your troubles or cares and just get to play fiddles and banjos and have fun all day. There’s a great jamgrass scene up there due to Vince Herman and Drew Emmitt basically starting Leftover Salmon up there. Years later some of The String Cheese Incident guys moved there followed by Jeff Austin, leading to the eventual forming of Yonder Mountain String Band there as well. There’s such a rich history of the music I love so much in that goofy little mountain town.

I initially wrote the chorus and first verse for the song as a goofy little ditty after it bounced around in my head for a while. I went up there when Vince put together a memorial concert for Jeff to help raise money for his family and so people could grieve together and ended up writing the second half of the song driving up the canyon road to get there. So like a lot of things on this record, part of it came to me at one point before finishing it off much later.

You’ve got three instrumentals on this record and another mostly instrumental tune in “Two Big Hearts.” What variations do songs like those have compared to ones with lyrics in the creation process?

The process is relatively the same, because no matter if I write with lyrics or melody I’m starting with some short idea and building around that nugget of information piece by piece. If it’s a melody, it’ll probably come out as an instrumental, but if it’s with lyrics it’s probably going to come out as a song with vocals. Even though it’s one track, “Two Big Hearts” is really two songs. The lyrics in it don’t come in until the second song, nearly four minutes in, but I felt that both were similar enough that they should be together and presented as one idea. I don’t think I’ll ever play one part of it without playing the other.

On “Not Quite Spring,” you’re singing about being stuck inside a Bob Ross painting. How’d that idea come about?

That’s a COVID song. I was sitting around on the couch watching a lot of Bob Ross’s The Joy Of Painting, just killing time like we all were back then. All of his paintings were titled and each episode of his show is titled after the painting he does in it. [“Not Quite Spring” is season 25, episode 3]. It’s of this spooky, huge mountain that’s covered in snow and frozen. A lot of his paintings are happy sunsets and warm things like a pond reflecting the trees around it, a stark contrast to this one that’s cold, dark and lonely, which is exactly how I felt at the time trapped inside my house.

In the album’s liner notes you allude to a life in music often being painted in glamor, when in reality it’s a consistent grind where persistence pays off. Is that message of sticking to it what you’re singing about on “Saddle Up?”

“Saddle Up” is the term I have for getting up every day and doing it again. It’s the idea that you may not have succeeded today or done everything you wanted to do the way you wanted to do it, which is what I’m touching on with the lyric, “The past can’t be where my best is.”

I feel like persistence defines my own life and career. Anyone who works in pursuit of a skill or art is always striving to get better. Even outside of that, we’re all working on our personal relationships and doing better by the people around us. Hopefully our best work, whether it be art or personal growth, is ahead of us and it’s not all downhill from here. It’s also a message I wish to impart on any listener or friend going through a rough patch to remind them that brighter days are on the horizon.

With Labor of Lust’s themes of personal growth in mind, what’s one resolution you have for yourself, music or otherwise, in 2024?

I’m actually trying to play the banjo even more, not from the standpoint of traveling and playing more shows, but just tinkering with it more in my downtime. It’s an interesting duality, tying your work to something you love. It’s a tricky thing to do because the lines between work and play are instantly blurred and made one. If it’s all work and no play it makes Jack a dull boy, so my resolution is to just keep the banjo in my hands for fun and to work smarter, not harder, which comes back to the idea that the past is not where my best work is.

Photo courtesy of the artist.

Lindsay Lou Conquers Personal Challenges on New Album, ‘Queen of Time’

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

With the September release of her album Queen of Time, Nashville artist Lindsay Lou takes listeners beyond a creative journey – it’s more like a long, strange, and satisfying trip, where her “radical truth” conquers all.

A former bluegrass songsmith with roots in groups like her former backing band, the Flatbellys, and Sweet Water Warblers, Lou’s Queen of Time marks the start of another new solo chapter and follows a rough time in her life filled with earthquakes of change. She both lost a grandmother who was pivotal to her development and experienced the end of a marriage – all while her career picked up steam. But, through those endings came a new beginning. One where she better understood her place in the universe, both spiritually and musically.

On Queen of Time, Lou welcomes herself to that new identity (and all who care to follow), doing so with a fresh sound and some old friends. Featuring Billy Strings and Jerry Douglas, 11 thought-provoking tracks infuse her bluegrass roots with atmospheric folk, back-porch psychedelia, and more, as lyrics and voice weave together into something like a sonic dreamcatcher – snatching ethereal truths from the cosmos and translating them in ways the mind can just begin to process.

Recently, Lou spoke with BGS about this heady transformation, working with her friends, and how her “teacher-turned-Rainbow-Gathering-healer” of a grandma helped shape her radical spirituality.

BGS: Tell me how you’re feeling about music making these days? I know this album comes after a lot of change in your life, personally and professionally. Has the way you feel about making music changed, too?

Lindsay Lou: It felt like the most freeing recording endeavor that I have ever set out on. Working with [producer] Dave O’Donnell was really great. He held a ton of space for me creatively and emotionally and just in all the ways. So it was really nice. I brought in all of my friends, and what drew me to music to begin with was jams that my family would have, so feeling among my chosen family, being able to bring in the people who I’ve been jamming with in living rooms and on stages for the last several years, was really, really sweet.

Honestly, I’m feeling really inspired and just really happy about music. All of the tours have felt like they were in really good flow, and spiritually, it just feels very open and satisfying. I sort of blew up my life a few years ago, and the last three years or so I’ve been gestating and rebuilding my path. It was rebuilding on the foundation I had laid down with the Flatbellys and the Warblers, so it wasn’t out of nowhere, but it felt like there was a lot of unknown – and there were times where I felt there’s just some fear that goes into it. But now I’m on the cusp of watching all of this be born and come to life, and it feels so good. It’s like everything that I could have hoped for. 

Seeing the record in the hands of people and hearing all the stories they send me about how it’s touched their lives has been very, very fulfilling. And I’m watching the album chart and watching different things on the horizon, different gigs and stuff – it’s just really inspiring, and I feel really excited to follow this new path that I’ve laid out for myself. 

You don’t always get that payoff when your life blows up, so congrats! Tell me a little bit about the imagery behind the Queen of Time theme. You’re asking the listener if they know who they really are – did that come from an epiphany you had?

It definitely came from an epiphany and the ongoing question and journey of self-discovery, because it’s something you never achieve. It’s just a journey you’re always on. The imagery [for the song “Queen of Time”] was definitely from Absolem, the caterpillar from Alice in Wonderland. He challenges Alice, “Who are you?” And it was less about who she was and more about who she identified as, because we contain multitudes. So this is a broad and complex question, and as I’ve been playing it, the song has sort of come to life and revealed itself to me in new and unexpected ways. I always love that with songs.

You start the album off with this refrain saying, “I don’t need the world to hear me / I’m singing and nothing else matters.” What’s the significance of that to you?

I guess it’s just acknowledging the personal relationship. I always say that the voice is a window to the soul, but a lot of people have this horrible trauma that they carry with them – that they’re not a good singer and that they don’t have a good voice, and so they don’t ever sing. I feel so much grief thinking about people not even singing to themselves. In my darkest hour, the most soothing thing that I have found to do is to sing to myself. And it’s not because I think that I have the greatest voice, it’s because singing actually releases endorphins in your mind. It’s like a physiological truth that the experience of singing is medicinal and it’s a form of meditation. 

The obvious interpretation of that is that as career musicians, you’re always wanting more people to hear you and wanting your fan base to expand. But at the end of the day, the reason that I sing and I think the reason anyone sings, is because it is a magical and medicinal way of expressing your soul, your spirit, your inner truth. So just remembering that value that I don’t need to be anywhere to let my voice ring and to connect with my own soul in that way, that’s really the most powerful thing.

I know your grandmother had a big part in influencing the record. But on top of everything else she was to you, did she also help you get into music?

I guess in a roundabout way, she did. Her greatest influence on me was spiritually. She was a preacher woman, and she lived her life the best that she could in the literal footstep of Jesus. So she took everyone in and she welcomed everyone. She was always preaching that [unless] you have not sinned, don’t cast the first stone and really strongly believed that no one will be left behind. Like if God said the greatest commandment was to love God and to love your brother, then she spent her whole life practicing that. Now, I call myself a praying atheist. I don’t necessarily connect with any institution of religion, but I do connect with the practice of spirituality and of love. Even Christianity says that God is love. So in my mind it’s like, “Well, then let’s just get right to the heart of the matter and call it love!” If we’re living in love and if we’re thinking critically and we’re following our radical truth, then we’re doing it right. 

Was music a part of your childhood?

[My grandmother] had 12 children and she surrounded herself with hippies and counterculture. And her husband – the father of her 12 children – was a musician. He played the trumpet and he sang, so they always sang to their children, and the songs that she sang to them, they sang to their children. So I heard all the gospel songs that she sang to my mom, because my mom sang them to me, and there’s been various forms of family bands throughout the generations of all of her children. The older kids had a rock band, and they would get together and sing gospel songs in harmony and Beatles songs and folk songs, and the younger kids formed bands with the older cousins. There was just always music around, so I think she just held space for music.

She sounds like an amazing person. Is that her voice in the phone conversations you put on “Love Calls”?

Yeah. I played that song for a couple of my friends before she was in it. There was this long expansive jam and my girlfriends listening to it were like, “We want more Lou here.” I thought, “Well, what version of Lou makes sense to go there?” And it dawned on me that it was the version of Lou that interviewed grandma. I interviewed my grandma on the one hand to sort of preserve her radical life story for posterity. And on the other hand, as a way of knowing myself. I’ve collected about 27 hours of her telling me her life story and how she came to believe what she believes. It’s a little bit foggy now, but I had an idea of what story I wanted to put there, and once that conversation was in there, the song had the context that it was calling for.

What was the context?

The song is about someone being a guide of love for someone else. And the conversation is her telling me the story of meeting someone at a rainbow gathering who she had a conversation with, and later found out that that conversation talked them out of suicide. Many parts of this record came together in the context of me witnessing suicides in my music community, and addiction and mental health struggles. And pretty much all of my music goes back to that in some way, because of where I came from and the world that I see around me.

Other songs have that through line to it too, right? Like “Nothing’s Working”? I know you worked with Billy Strings on that one, how did it come together? 

He and I get together every once in a while to write and we had gotten together and started that song. He had just been hanging out with Bryan Sutton and had this open B shape thing in his head that he started to play along with, and he was talking to me about Ionia – the town that he grew up in. He had just seen so many people get a job and try to make all the right decisions and try to always do the right thing, and just end up with nothing to show for it, because they’re stuck in a system that doesn’t support them and wasn’t built for them, or a scene that really wasn’t good for them. 

We wrote the first verse, and kind of left it at that, and it sat in my voice memos for a couple years. Then I was on a plane on my way to the Jeff Austin tribute concert benefit [late member of Yonder Mountain String Band, who died in 2019], and I was just thinking about things. I think I finished it on my way home, but during that same week, I attended my cousin Emily’s funeral. She died in her 20s and was struggling with opiate addiction. I don’t mention either of them in the song necessarily, but it really got me into the headspace of thinking about people I know who are still alive, who are struggling with similar challenges. The song is about telling their story, and telling their story with compassion and honesty.

I noticed a lot of hard bluegrass influence on tracks like “Rules,” and along with Billy you have a collab with Jerry Douglas. Do you still feel like you can be creative in the bluegrass form these days? Or is it harder to do that as you grow as an artist?

Bluegrass gave me a lot of tools and a home. It gave me a place to belong and an opportunity to hone my craft, just in terms of tightening up rhythm and getting better at playing the guitar – and having an entire world of people I can get together with anytime, anywhere, and play any one of the many songs in the bluegrass canon and sing three-part harmony, like we’ve been a band our whole lives. It gave me so much, but I didn’t grow up in a family or a community that played bluegrass music. It was something I found in my early 20s. I’ve never been like people like Billy and Molly [Tuttle] – [bluegrass] is not just a part of their history, it’s like their earliest memories.

I grew up doing acoustic music, so there’s always going to be some element of that in my music. And I’m so grateful to have bluegrass now as a tool of expressing myself. But I don’t think I find it harder as I get older. I just find it easier to connect more authentically with my own voice, and bluegrass is a tool of doing that – but it’s not the only tool. 

Photo Credit: Dana Kalachnik

Andrew Marlin Reveals the Observations and Explorations Behind ‘Watchhouse’

Posted on by Editor

When you’re the child of musicians, you get to see the world. By the time Andrew Marlin and Emily Frantz’s daughter Ruby was one year old, she had been to 34 US states and nine different countries. “She was on a bus when she was three months old,” says Marlin. “She loves traveling.”

After a year of hiatus, the family of three is back on the road again as the duo formerly known as Mandolin Orange tour their new self-titled album, Watchhouse. And Ruby, now a toddler, has transitioned back to road life more smoothly than her father, who admits he’s still “struggling to find my sea legs.”

But then this has an unarguably big summer. Performing as Watchhouse, after more than a decade as Mandolin Orange, was no small change. A year of lockdown had given the couple space to reflect on a name change that they’d wanted for a while, but resisted, concerned at how any reinvention would affect their devoted following.

Their latest project proves that their fans have nothing to fear: a medley of richly intimate songs and beautiful vocal harmonies that’s as identifiably them as anything they’ve ever made. Marlin, who writes the songs and plays mandolin to Frantz’s acoustic guitar, spoke to BGS about the new album from their North Carolina home, where they were enjoying a short pause between gigs.

BGS: Your current tour’s taking you coast to coast, from the Newport Folk Festival in Rhode Island to Redmond, Washington and all points between…

Marlin: It’s all over the map, literally. We’re out for three or four days at a time and I’m enjoying being back on tour but it’s kind of difficult to get in the groove. After we’ve been moving at a snail’s pace at home this past year, this all feels so fast-paced, so much to keep up with!

How do you feel about touring in this age of COVID. Does it feel safe yet?

I was one of the naive ones who thought we were nearly done with this thing, but we’re really not. There is a vaccine but people just aren’t taking it. So no, I don’t feel safe at all. But it’s a balancing act: we need to make money because we haven’t worked in 18 months, and we want to play shows, because that’s what we’re driven to do. Everybody wants to get back to their lives, everybody needs purpose to stay sane. To feel like there’s a reason to get up in the morning.

Was a year of lockdown hard as a new parent?

It’s all relative. Emily and I travel so much that we wouldn’t have spent so much time home as full-time parents otherwise. Eighteen months ago you would have been talking to a different person, but now I just try to live day to day, and write a little here and there. It was really difficult to write at the beginning of the pandemic, though. As a songwriter I try to latch onto things that not many people are writing about and with so many people thinking about the same thing it was hard to separate myself from it and find a way to write about it that didn’t seem unoriginal. I wrote a lot of instrumentals so I could explore how I was feeling without having to put it in words.

Have you discovered some good tunes for getting Ruby to sleep?

Pretty much anything by Paul Brady. She loves him, especially that album he did with Andy Irvine. I put that on and she’ll start talking to Paul and Andy. And because she’s been around our music since she was in the womb, if I sit down and play mandolin very quietly that’ll chill her out. I’ll sit in her room and play and she’ll doze off.

There are a lot of songs sung from a parent’s viewpoint on this new album: “Upside Down,” “New Star,” and “Lonely Love Affair.” Has becoming a father changed your perspective as a songwriter?

Passively, yes. I think the change is that I would love to help pave a safe path for my daughter and hopefully inspire some of our listeners to be kind and open up a kind world for her to go into. And that’s made my its way into my perspective even in songs where I’m not talking about it.

That’s very much the message of “Better Way,” which is about online trolling. Was that inspired by a specific incident?

A number of incidents. It isn’t unique. Every time somebody puts themselves out there on social media you have the people who love to drum up negative energy. And I can’t wrap my head around it because that’s not how I was brought up. I rarely meet people who would do that when they’re talking to you face to face. So I don’t understand why those people feel compelled to sit at their computer or pick up their phone and try to rip others apart. It’s a weird way to live.

Emily says it’s one of the favorite tracks you’ve ever laid down together.

Yeah, I love the sound of that tune. It’s a gentle drive to it, the way the groove is so set. It has this steady pulse that fits with the whole idea of the tune, this nagging thing in the back of my head: why do people feel compelled to be such assholes?

These songs were recorded all the way back in February 2020. Where did you decide to record them?

We did it right outside of Roanoke, Virginia. It’s not quite in the mountains, but it was in the hills for sure, a very peaceful place on a lake. I like making records in places that aren’t studios. It feels a little more free, to just go sit in a living room and to turn that space into a very positive musical environment is way more appealing to me than a studio where you’re watching the clock and every time you hear it tick that signifies a certain amount of money. I think you feel that relaxed energy. There’s no trying to beat the clock on this record. It’s exploring all the directions we could go as a band.

The sound of the album is certainly more exploratory than previous ones — a little richer in texture, a little less acoustic, even a touch psychedelic at times…

There are a lot of sounds we’ve used in the past but on this one we didn’t try to hide them. In the past we’ve tried to keep the simplicity of what Emily and I do in the forefront and have all these light textures around that. I think of it as a mountain peak. We’d be up at the top singing our songs and beneath us is this luscious forest, a lot of organ songs, electric guitar, drums, bass. Well, on this record we brought all the sounds up to the same level.

We’d been touring with many of these musicians since 2016 and so we were already thinking about arrangements that worked for the band and it’s a good representation of what we can do live, as a unit. A lot of people think of Emily and I as a folk duo but we have a lot of music in us! It felt nice to change the name and feel we can do whatever we want to and not limit ourselves to any idea of who people think we are.

The new name, Watchhouse, seems to be a good choice to reflect the observational world of your songwriting.

One of the most important things you can do as an artist is observe the world around you and I’ve always sought out those little peaceful places I can let my mind wander. I don’t do well in chaotic situations. I’m not the one to be right up the front by the stage in a show. I’ll usually go hang out in a corner and close my eyes and listen. I just like to find those places wherever we are, whether we’re on tour, in our neighborhood, or at home.

It makes you sound like a pretty chilled person to live with.

I play music a lot, so if you don’t like to hear constant music then probably not… in lockdown there was a lot of noodling, a lot of searching. A lot of aggression being taken out on an instrument too.

Fair point, I can see Emily needing an occasional break from that.

Oh yeah, all the time! She’d send me out of the room, or she’d go out herself…

You’ve been in a band together for 12 years, and all that time you’ve been a couple too. How do you manage to spend so much time together without driving each other crazy?

We’ve talked about that sometimes, especially with Emily’s parents. They can’t seem to wrap their head around it. I guess we just like each other!

One song on the album that seems especially raw is “Belly of the Beast.” Can you tell me the inspiration behind that?

I wrote that tune after Jeff Austin committed suicide. I didn’t know him super well, but we had a lot of mutual friends and had crossed paths through the years and it woke me up in a scary way. Being a full-time musician you have to continually find new ways to stay relevant and interesting to people, and you have to deal with real bouts of anxiety and self-consciousness. Is this good enough? Am I good enough? Writing and playing is something I’m extremely driven to do for myself, but I also have to do it for others, and I throw my music out in the world to be judged by other people. It’s a weird process that I’ve found is extremely helped by therapy!

So is that what performing is for you: “Hiding from the monsters in the belly of the beast”?

Yes — I love that line. When people talk about being nervous to perform, for me it’s not wondering whether I’m able to perform well, it’s more that when I step out on stage I don’t know what that crowd’s energy is going to be, how receptive they’re going to be. Are these people going to allow me to be myself tonight or am I going to have to put on a hat? For the most part our fans are really receptive and I can be myself. That’s when it feels like things are right.

“Beautiful Flowers” is one of the more cryptic songs on the album. It starts with a tiny flash of color and ends with some powerful images about the climate crisis. How did you get from one to the other?

I hit a butterfly when I was driving down the road and it really bummed me out. Animals have no ideas what cars are. For something to come out of nowhere at 70 miles per hour has got to be the weirdest thing in the world. And that got me thinking about who had made the first car, and it turned out it was this guy, Karl Benz. And when he made this car he had no idea where it was going to lead and how terrible it was going to be for the environment.

For our own convenience we destroy a lot of this world and don’t give a lot back as humans. And my car hitting that butterfly felt like a really strong metaphor for what we’re doing to the earth. It’s a very delicate ecosystem and we’re killing all its intricate little working parts.

Is that a challenge for you, too, with your own carbon footprint as a touring musician?

Our carbon footprint is massive, riding on buses and planes and cars… going to a festival and them using generators to supply all the power. We all see all the problems but how to step outside of your own daily needs and confront them is the conundrum, and I’m as guilty as anyone. How do you inconvenience yourself to make positive change in this world? We’re asking ourselves that right now in terms of racism, climate change, housing inequality, you name it.

Given how personal the songs are, and the fact they’re drawn from your shared life, do you ask for Emily’s input or approval as you’re writing them?

No, not really. The way I write I’ll take a specific idea and continue to break it apart until it’s more universal. I don’t want to reveal too much of myself in any given tune. I’m not laying out a bullet point retelling of my life, just musing on how I felt in a given situation — or maybe how Emily felt, or maybe a friend of ours. In fact sometimes I’ll play a new song for Emily and I’ll tell her what it’s about and she’ll say, “Huh, I thought it was about this.” And you know what? She’s not wrong.

Watchhouse is coming to the Theatre at the Ace Hotel in Los Angeles on Saturday, February 19th 2022 – grab your tickets here.

Photo credit: Shervin Lainez

Billy Strings Brings Nine Shows from Five Nashville Venues to Your Screen

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It’s rare for Billy Strings to play a show in Nashville. This month, he’s doing nine of them.

The reigning IBMA Guitar Player of the Year will be hopping from venue to venue as part of a livestream series that serves as a fundraiser for important organizations, as well as a reunion with his band. He’ll launch the series at Nashville’s newest venue, Brooklyn Bowl, for a pair of shows on July 16 and 17. The run concludes on July 26 at 3rd & Lindsley. (Get the details.)

“Those are my boys and I’m just lucky to play with them,” he says of mandolinist Jarrod Walker, banjo player Billy Failing, and bassist Royal Masat. “I haven’t been able to hang with them a bunch. We went from being around each other 24/7, for months and months and months on end, to never seeing each other, period. So I’m just excited to get back together with my band, and not only play music, but just to be with them, and hang out, and make jokes. I just love those guys, you know?”

With time off the road, Billy Strings says he’s been redirecting his attention to his other hobbies, including fishing and hot rods. Looking ahead, he’ll also compete for IBMA’s 2020 Entertainer of the Year – his first time nominated in that category. (He’s also the reigning champ in the New Artist category, as well as Guitar Player of the Year.) In between visits to the lake and the garage, he called in to BGS.

BGS: Do you think you’ll approach each of these nine shows differently?

Billy Strings: Yeah, we usually try to do that anyway with the set lists. Each show has its own set list and its own vibe. It depends on where we are and where we’re playing. When I write the set list, a lot of times I take into consideration geographic locations or famous people that may have lived around there. Anything like that I can throw into the set to make it relevant. So, yeah, for each show, we’re going to approach them just like we would in that way.

Also, we might cater to the specific venues. We’re playing the Station Inn and that’s a classic bluegrass place, so we might play a bunch of bluegrass that night. We’re playing Exit/In and City Winery and those are different vibes. City Winery can be our real classy, Frank Sinatra show, and at Exit/In we can get really psychedelic and rock out.

You’ll have an international audience tuning into these shows, so this is a chance for people who have never been to Nashville to see what it’s like. For those who may not understand the diversity of the music community here, how would you describe it to them?

It’s a big melting pot. Like you said, it’s very diverse. And there’s a lot of younger musicians that are on fire! Marcus King and Molly Tuttle and Sierra Hull… just so many people that are killing it. They all live around there. It’s a really great place to be as a musician. There are always people to make music with, and to pick with, and write music with. We’ll see if we can get a couple of guests to come down. Yeah, Nashville’s just crazy, man. You walk into the grocery store and you run into your favorite musician.

There’s money being raised through these concerts, and one of the beneficiaries is Backline, which supports mental health in the music industry. What is it about Backline that made you want to include them?

I, myself, personally have struggled with anxiety and panic attacks on tour, on the bus, on stage, and there’s a lot of people in the industry that suffer with the same shit. A lot of people may not speak out about it, or try to hide it, or don’t know who to look to for help. We just lost Jeff Austin and we just lost Neal Casal. There are a couple of other folks that are good friends of mine, that are traveling musicians that have been working so hard, and I think that has a huge deal to do with anxiety and depression.

I mean, when you’re in the limelight and you’re on stage and everybody wants to take your picture all the time, a lot of times it almost can be lonely. You never get any alone time and it can get weird. I know Jeff probably struggled with that. He told me about how he struggled being in the limelight and everybody critiquing his every move and everything he does is under scrutiny. That’s not a good place to be. …

The music industry can be really tough, believe it or not, for people who are on the stage and for people who are in the crews. There are plenty of organizations that help with that, whether it’s getting musicians health insurance or dental work or finding somebody a therapist. Backline is a huge, generalized hub where you can research and find all those different organizations and read about what is the right direction for you. You can even get with somebody on Backline and they’ll help you figure it out.

You also have the ACLU and the NAACP Legal Defense and Educational Fund as beneficiaries of this event. Why was it important for you to include them?

Well, because there’s a huge movement happening right now that I think is very important. Black people have been treated like shit, a lot, for a long time. And I just want to be on the side of history that is not an asshole. I got a lot of Black friends and my niece is Black. I’ve got family and friends and people that I love — and it shouldn’t even matter. …There’s a lot of miscommunication, a lot of divide, a lot of crazy shit going on in the country right now. I’m just all for love, man. I’m all for equality, I’m all for peace, so I wanted to donate a portion of the proceeds from these events to those organizations, just to help out.

Who are some Black musicians that influenced you?

Jimi Hendrix, definitely. Right off the bat. That’s the first guy I think of. He was amazing. Mississippi John Hurt, you know, he was a huge influence on Merle and Doc Watson. That’s who I grew up listening to, and I heard all that Mississippi John Hurt flavor in Merle Watson’s playing. That comes from the blues, the Delta blues. It goes on to Muddy Waters, B.B. King, all those cats. James Brown, come on!

I mean, without Black music, would there even be rock ‘n’ roll? I don’t even know if there would be bluegrass! Bill Monroe learned the blues from Arnold Schultz, a Black man who got him his first job. If you think about “bluegrass” – the word “blue” is in there from the blues. It’s got blues notes in it. A lot of bluegrass is just fast blues. And that’s Black music. Arnold Schultz taught Bill Monroe about that, and then he incorporated it into his music. All the music that we’re all inspired by has roots in Black music.

You mentioned Doc Watson, and of course he was loved by the folk community and the bluegrass community. Did folk music influence you, coming up?

Yeah, I think there was a point where I really got turned onto Bob Dylan and his lyrics. A lot of the old songs that I grew up playing is considered folk music. The Carter Family stuff and a lot of the Doc Watson stuff. …My friend Benji’s family used to have these gatherings, like family reunions, where they would all play bingo. I went to one of those and won a bingo, so I got to go up to the table and pick a prize. And I picked Blonde on Blonde. …I started really getting into those lyrics and all of those words.

That’s where I started realizing, OK, I like Doc Watson a bunch because he’s such a beautiful guitar player and singer, among many other reasons. Bob Dylan does what Doc Watson does on his guitar with his words. … And then I got into John Hartford really heavy, and if you listen to John Hartford’s early music, man, it is some of the most lyrically proficient stuff you’re ever going to hear! It’s amazing! There’s that old saying, “Three chords and the truth.” I really think there’s something to that. A lot of those old folk songs are so simple, but what they’re saying is so real that it cuts you.

Photo credit: Jesse Faatz

Yonder Mountain String Band Finds the Next Plateau

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Change rarely comes easy. But when, after 17 years, an established outfit like Yonder Mountain String Band parts ways with a founding member, it can have an even more profound effect. That’s the predicament the Colorado-based combo found themselves in April of 2014 when singer, songwriter, and mandolin player Jeff Austin cited personal and creative differences as a reason for making the decision to venture out on his own. As a result, YMSB suddenly found itself at a critical crossroads.

Fortunately then, remaining founding members Adam Aijala (guitar, vocals), Ben Kaufman (bass, vocals), and Dave Johnston (banjo, vocals) opted to re-group and press on with not one, but two new members added to the fold — mandolin player Jacob Jolliff, of Joy Kills Sorrow, and fiddler Allie Kral, formerly of the band Cornmeal. The pair joined YMSB on tour and, a year later, in the studio. They are now officially members of the new band line-up.

Black Sheep, the album that resulted from the reconfigured quintet, finds Yonder Mountain not only more song-centric than ever before, but also more willing to expand their musical parameters, resulting in a sound that’s as focused as it is frenzied. Known for its fiercely devoted fan following among the festival faithful and an approach based on both bluegrass and populist precepts, the band has initiated a new musical chapter.

Catch Yonder Mountain String Band at the Northwest String Summit this weekend (July 16-19).

Let’s start with the obvious. How did Jeff’s departure affect the making of the new album?

Aijala: Black Sheep was a project of firsts. The first full-length album that was self-produced. The first album with our new lineup. The first album that I helped engineer. The first album with fiddle on the entire record. So, yes, it was a bit different this time around. The process was indeed a lot of work, but it was good work, so therefore it felt really easy. Musically, it was great to work with Allie and Jake. And because we self-produced, I felt this project had much more collaboration than past records and we had an absolute blast doing so. We really felt like a team. I can't wait to record the next record.

How did you go about recruiting Allie and Jacob? Having been such a tight-knit band for so long, was it awkward bringing new people into the fold?

Kaufman: The only thing we knew for sure was that we wanted to have a mandolin in the band. Beyond that, we were open, but not attached, to adding a fifth member; and if we did, we could safely assume it would be either a dobro or a fiddle. We didn't really advertise that there were job openings. The word spread on its own … and quickly. One of the first phone calls that came in was from our friend and former manager D.J. McLachlan. He told us about Jake, whom he managed in a band called Joy Kills Sorrow. He basically said Jake's talent on the mandolin would be immediately apparent and speak for itself. But the more important thing was D.J.'s vouching for Jake's heart and character. When you travel in buses and vans and other tight quarters, a person's vibe is extraordinarily important. D.J. knows us all inside and out, so when he said Jake would be a great fit, I trusted him implicitly.

One of the most intriguing things to me was that Jake had never heard Yonder's music. We'd been at one common festival — when Joy Kills Sorrow played the Northwest String Summit. But they didn't get a chance to hang out. It was exciting to me that Jake wouldn't have any preconceptions about how the mandolin was "supposed to sound" in Yonder. We all checked out YouTube and saw what Jake could do and then invited him into the studio to record on Black Sheep. It just worked from the first note and we all knew we'd found our guy.

With Allie, it happened a little differently. We were on the fence about adding a fifth member. But then Allie came to a show in Portland, OR, that we played. She sat in and just blew the roof off the place. I can't remember if we asked her to come to the next show or if it just so happened that she was going to be in Seattle anyway. The point is, we played with her the next night and she blew the roof off the joint again. After that, our sound engineer Ben Hines cornered us and basically said we'd found our fifth member. It really wasn't a tough sell. Allie is talented on so many levels and she has this X-factor that I can't quite describe. It's like, she steps up to the microphone to solo and the crowd is already going nuts. She hasn't played a note yet and they're freaking out. She also brings down the house when she sings and she’s just intrinsically loveable, in my opinion. There is a deficit of women jam-band musicians … like, maybe three of them exist in the whole world. Somehow I feel that we achieved a perfect balance when Allie agreed to join Yonder Mountain.

Allie, what was it like to join a band with such a lengthy history and such a consistent line-up? Was it intimidating, challenging, exciting?

Kral: It has been such a thrill. Excitement is the most accurate feeling.

Did you ever find it awkward to assert yourself? Did you feel like you had been given the opportunity to fully contribute?

Kral: They have really encouraged my opinion and participation since day one. I think when you start any new relationship, there's usually a bit of a feeling out process. But I really didn't experience that here. They let me have full control over my solos and musical ideas, while sticking to the form of the song that had already been established. I think the addition of a new instrument naturally adds a different depth and dimension to everything we play. I have been incredibly conscious of how I add my flavor, while staying true to the original beauty of the music.

Ben, Adam, when Jeff announced his departure last year, was it a surprise? What sort of emotions were brewing at the time?

Aijala: The outside world saw the split as a surprise, but for us it was not. We had been having talks over the previous months about personal happiness and what we all came to realize was that happiness trumps everything else. Life is short so we should be enjoying it. The split was the culmination of those talks and ultimately the best decision for all four of us.

How big a role do your fans fill in your MO? What kind of personal interaction do you strive to maintain with them?

Aijala: I think our fans are as dedicated, involved, and invested as any in the business. Part of the dream I dreamt about being a musician was having a fan base that somehow became family. The Grateful Dead created the paradigm. I wanted something like that, something where the wall between the band and the audience comes down. The thing is, it's not really anything a band can make happen. It happens because the fans make it happen. I think it's crucial that the band dream the dream in that particular way, but it's up to the fans to actualize it. When we started, the original Kinfolk were mailing tapes and CDs of our shows to their friends. It was pre-Internet. It's a blessing that people care about Yonder Mountain in the way that they do. And there's some magic in the experience — something that isn't quite explainable. We do our best to get personal time with our fans. Social media helps in that way, but the very best is when we get a chance to hear people's stories from their own mouths. That usually happens at festivals. I'm humbled by the impact we've had on people.

Improvisation seems to play a prominent role in your live performances.

Aijala: The majority of the time we improvise is in sections of songs specifically designated as, for lack of a better term, the "jam section." Although there are many "song" songs and not "jam" songs where we improvise a solo each time we perform, I really enjoy those designated jam sections where the five of us are feeding off each others ideas. I think it's a very important part of our live show because it gives something fresh to both ourselves and the fans.

Allie, how familiar with the band were you prior to joining?

Kral: Very. I had been playing at the same venues and festivals, so our paths frequently crossed.

Would you classify yourselves as a bluegrass band or a jam band?

Kaufman: Yonder has always had one foot in the bluegrass world and one in the jam scene. And I think it's because we have a deep love and respect for both genres. When we started out, we got most of our gigs at jam band festivals. Basically we became the bluegrass band for the jam band crowd, while at the same time becoming the jam band for the bluegrass crowd. However, the term "jam band" is really misleading. Ultimately, it is descriptive of an audience that can get into all genres of music and approaches every performance with an open mind.

Allie, What's been your experience on the road with YMSB? Have you discovered anything that's taken you by surprise in terms of personalities, quirks, or fan reactions?

Kral: It's been so refreshing how welcome Yonder has made me feel. We all get along so well; it's like we've been playing together for years. Quirks? We all have them. We are musicians after all! The fans reactions have been impressive. I think most people are pumped to see the band continue thru this rebirth.

After 17 years, how do you keep yourself from becoming complacent or, worse yet, repeating yourselves? How do you keep the energy fresh?

Aijala: We obviously feel very energized these days because of the new line-up. Even though Ben, Dave, and I have been playing together for all these years, adding Jake and Allie to the mix gives our old songs new light. We also continue to do a completely new setlist every night and we're at the point now where we can play almost five full shows — 10 sets –without repeating a song.

Kaufman: We aren't happy unless we're creating, playing, writing, etcetera. I think we'd be in greater danger of becoming complacent if we suddenly had a hit single, made a fortune, and starred in a movie. But we are a blue collar band. And our fans, like ourselves, are prone to get bored with too much repetition. Sometimes it seems like we play a song five times and, if we’re not sick of it, then certainly ready to play something else. I don't know — we're pioneers of the short attention span.

It appears you give your fans lots of credit for inspiring you.

Kaufman: The fans are so receptive and supportive that, on the worst days, we can borrow some of their energy. The world has been looking for an unlimited, renewable source of energy. I think it's already been discovered and it’s called bluegrass. We've been blessed to be a band that is nearly two decades old and, at the same time, is a year old. Playing with Jake and Allie, having to redefine ourselves and fight to stay on top, is a blessing. It's not effortless, but it's so fun that it seems like it is.

Lede photo by Mitch Scobie / Bottom photo by Dorothy St. Claire