Tag: Joan Baez

13 Roots Music Book Recommendations From 2024

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

2024 served up a treasure trove of great music books – too many to encapsulate in a concise way. However, it’s still worth a try! So, here is a look at some notable books (in no particular order) that should hold an appeal to the BGS community. This baker’s dozen hopefully provides a diverse and interesting sampling of what has been published over the past year.

There are biographies of superstars like Joni Mitchell and Dolly Parton alongside important if underappreciated figures, such as guitarist Jesse Ed Davis and the Blind Boys of Alabama. Look into the lives of bluegrass icons Tony Rice and John Hartford led by those that knew them while Joan Baez, Lucinda Williams, and Alice Randall each released memoirs that told their life stories in fascinating ways.

There are books here, too, that examine sub-genres like the world of busking and the outlaw country movement, as well as scenes from the musical history of Greenwich Village and the story of a little-known but significant music project that was part of FDR’s New Deal.

There’s a little something for everyone, whether for your holiday shopping list, your winter break stack of books “to be read,” to use up those bookstore gift cards, or for your 2025 resolution to sit down and read more.

Traveling: On the Path of Joni Mitchell by Ann Powers (Dey Street Books/HarperCollins)

2024 was a big year for Joni Mitchell, with her captivating appearance at the GRAMMY Awards representing another major milestone on her amazing recuperation from her 2015 brain aneurysm. NPR music critic (and occasional BGS contributor) Ann Powers extensively examines the many sides of Joni Mitchell in this stimulating and provocative book. Powers makes it clear from the get-go that she isn’t a biographer and compares her work here to being like a mapmaker. It makes total sense then that Powers entitled the book Traveling. The word not only references Mitchell’s tune “All I Want,” but it also reflects the numerous paths that Mitchell has traveled down during her long, storied career – a journey Powers incisively and insightfully explores over the course of some 400-some pages.

Dolly Parton’s White Limozeen by Steacy Easton (Bloomsbury)

Steacy Easton followed up their Tammy Wynette biography, Why Tammy Matters, by tackling an even larger female country music icon: Dolly Parton. Part of the acclaimed 33 1/3 book series, this compact tome focuses on Parton’s popular 1989 album White Limozeen. Easton views it as a pivotal work for Parton as it represented a triumphant rebound from her roundly disappointing 1987 release, Rainbow. Besides delving into how the Ricky Skaggs-produced White Limozeen found Dolly returning more to her country roots from the more pop-oriented Rainbow, Easton also uses her album as something like a prism to look at Dolly’s wildly successful career and her iconic persona.

Don’t Tell Anybody the Secrets I Told You: A Memoir by Lucinda Williams (Crown)

Fans of Lucinda Williams’ songs may think they know her through her lyrics, which are often drawn from Lu’s own experiences. Williams’ memoir, however, reveals more about her extraordinary life than even her deeply felt lyrics have expressed. The book is especially strong in covering her quite turbulent childhood involving her father Miller Williams (a poet/professor long in search of tenure) and her mother, Lucille, who suffered from manic depression. Fittingly, Williams prefaces her book by listing the many places where she lived (a dozen before she was 18) which reflects her rootless childhood and set her up for a home in the Americana music pantheon. While the title suggests a racy tell-all, the book feels more like having the great pleasure of listening to Lucinda intimately tell stories from her life – what more could you ask for?

Washita Love Child: The Rise of Indigenous Rock Star Jesse Ed Davis by Douglas K. Miller (Liveright)

Jesse Ed Davis is a name that probably is not familiar to most music fans. Lovers of ’70s rock might recognize his name as a guitarist who worked with the likes of Taj Mahal, Eric Clapton, Neil Diamond, Ringo Starr, John Lennon, and George Harrison (Davis performed at the fabled Concert For Bangladesh). Those who know him from those gigs, however, might not even know that Davis was a rare Native American in the rock ‘n’ roll world. He only really made his Indigenous heritage prominent when he teamed with Native American poet/activist John Trudell during the ’80s in the Graffiti Band. Sadly, Davis’ career was derailed due to alcohol and drug abuse, which also led to his death in 1988 at the age of 48. In this vividly told biography, Douglas K. Miller, a professor of Native American History at Oklahoma State University, turns a spotlight on this ground-breaking and underappreciated musician.

Down On The Corner: Adventures in Busking & Street Music by Cary Baker (Jawbone Press)

For his debut book, longtime publicist and journalist Cary Baker turned to a lifelong music interest of his: street musicians. Early on in this book, he relates the transformative moment when, as a teenager, he was taken by his father to Chicago’s famous Maxwell Street where he saw bluesman Blind Arvella Gray perform on the street. This experience not only led to his first journalism work, but it also launched a love for street music. His enlightening book, which is broadly divided geographically, profiles buskers from across America and Europe. Down On The Corner is populated with colorful characters like Bongo Joe, Tubby Skinny, and Wild Man Fischer along with well-known musicians, such as the Old Crow Medicine Show, Rambling Jack Elliott, Billy Bragg, Fantastic Negrito, and Peter Case, who share tales about playing on the streets.

My Memories of John Hartford by Bob Carlin (University Press of Mississippi)

My own memories of John Hartford are of him playing on Glen Campbell’s TV show. He seemed so cool and laidback – and he could play banjo with lightning-fast virtuosity. Happily, Bob Carlin has more interesting memories about the legendary musician, and he comes to this book from a pretty unique perspective. Carlin first met Hartford when he interviewed him in the mid-1980s for the radio program Fresh Air. Carlin (himself an award-winning banjoist) later performed with Hartford and even became his de facto road manager. In his book, he deftly balances his background as a journalist and position as a longtime friend in telling the story of Hartford, who was a true crossover star bluegrass musician of his time.

Discovering Tony Rice by Bill Amatneek (Vineyards Press)

Like Bob Carlin with John Hartford, Bill Amatneek has a privileged perspective when it comes to writing about his subject, the late, great Tony Rice. Amatneek, a musician as well as writer, spent several years playing with Rice in the David Grisman Quintet. Rice was one of the best-ever flatpicking guitarists (and a terrific vocalist) whose career was undercut by illnesses and his own personal demons. Amatneek constructed his book as an oral biography, built around stories told to him by fellow musicians who knew Tony, like Sam Bush, Béla Fleck, Peter Rowan, and Jerry Douglas along with Rice family members, allowing readers to discover the bright and dark sides of this bluegrass master.

Talkin’ Greenwich Village: The Heady Rise and Slow Fall of America’s Bohemian Music Capital by David Browne (Hachette Books)

As its title plainly states, Talkin’ Greenwich Village discusses the renowned area of New York City that has been a center for bohemian arts culture for decades. The book can be described as a “biography” of both the people (Dave Van Ronk plays a prominent role throughout this story) and the places (particularly the clubs, such as the Bottom Line, Kenny’s Castaways, Gerde’s Folk City, and the Bitter End) that populated the Village’s music scene from 1957-2004. (Browne here basically concentrates on the West Village.) The author of books on the Grateful Dead, CSN&Y, and Sonic Youth, Browne does a masterful job at bringing this neighborhood to life during its many eras. The Village holds a special place in Browne’s heart; he discovered the neighborhood as an undergrad at NYU just as the new folk scene of the early ’80s was brewing. His passion shines through in his storytelling.

My Black Country: A Journey Through Country Music’s Black Past, Present, and Future By Alice Randall (Simon & Schuster)

You may have already heard about Alice Randall and her book right here, on BGS and Good Country. My Black Country has received great acclaim (NPR listed the book among its “Books We Love” for 2024) and justifiably so. An author, professor, and songwriter, Randall tapped all her talents in creating this inspiring work that addresses her life story and investigates the history of Black country music, which she traces back nearly a hundred years to when DeFord Bailey performed on Nashville’s WSM radio station. It should be noted, too, that this isn’t just a Nashville-centered book; it explores Black country music made all across America. Besides enjoying Randall’s literary creation, you can also enjoy her songwriting craft too; Oh Boy Records released an eponymous compilation of Randall-penned tunes interpreted by such artists as Rhiannon Giddens, Allison Russell, Valerie June, and Leyla McCalla. (Of which, Giddens’ performance of “The Ballad of Sally Anne” is nominated for a GRAMMY for Best American Roots Performance.)

Spirit of the Century: Our Own Story by The Blind Boys of Alabama & Preston Lauterbach (Hachette Books)

The Blind Boys of Alabama are a remarkable story. Remarkable in the sense that the vocal group came into existence around 1940 at the Alabama Institute for the Negro Deaf and Blind and made their way out into the world through the gospel music circuit. And it is remarkable, too, that the Blind Boys of Alabama not only remain a group today (they describe themselves as the “longest running group in American music”), but they have earned five GRAMMYs (and a Lifetime Achievement Award) as well as an NEA National Heritage Fellowship. Preston Lauterbach (author of books like Beale Street Dynasty and The Chitlin’ Circuit) has done an eloquent job weaving together stories from band members and other musical colleagues, and turning them into this absorbing biography.

Willie, Waylon and the Boys: the Ultimate Outlaw Country Primer by Brian Fairbanks (Hachette Books)

This book is something of a biographical combo platter. The first nine chapters concentrate on the “Mount Rushmore” of outlaw country: Willie, Waylon, Johnny, and Kris. Those 240 pages are packed with colorful tales of the foursome, whether on their own or together as the Highwaymen. At that point, the book pivots and explores outlaw country’s legacy in the form of the alternative country scene that was burgeoning during the ’90s, as the Highwaymen were ending their run (their third, final, and least successful album came out in 1995). Fans of alt-country and “new outlaw” artists might wish for a deeper dive into this scene. The chapter on “The New Highwaymen” (built upon the idea of guys like Chris Stapleton, Jason Isbell, Ryan Bingham, and Sturgill Simpson as a new outlaw quartet) feels a bit too speculative. Fairbanks, however, is on stronger footing with his “Highwaywomen” chapter, which looks at the actual supergroup collaboration of the Highwomen, featuring Brandi Carlile, Natalie Hemby, Maren Morris, and Amanda Shires that, among other things, countered the male dominance of the original outlaw movement.

A Chance to Harmonize: How FDR’s Hidden Music Unit Sought to Save America from the Great Depression—One Song at a Time By Sheryl Kaskowitz (Pegasus)

This is a book for history buffs who love music – and vice versa. Author Sheryl Kaskowitz (who previously wrote a book on the history of the song “God Bless America”) has dug up the story on a little-known music unit that was part of the New Deal. This U.S. government program led by Charles Seeger (yes, the father of Pete) sent out musician/agents (noted American ethnomusicologist Sidney Robertson was one prime participant) to gather up folk songs around the country. The goal was to use these songs to build community spirit at homestead communities launched by federal government under the auspices of the Resettlement Administration. The projects were considered radical and controversial back then and, consequently, were very short-lived. Fortunately, however, more than 800 songs were recorded and have been stored away in the Library of Congress.

When You See My Mother, Ask Her to Dance by Joan Baez (David R. Godine)

Joan Baez spent over 60 years making music and touring. While she has basically retired from music, Baez hasn’t put an end to expressing her creativity. In 2023, she released a book of drawings and in 2024, she published this book of poetry. There are at least a couple of notable aspects to this poetry project. Baez has long been known more for being an interpreter of songs rather than a songwriter, so it is intriguing to see more of her writer side expressed in this collection. Also, she has struggled with dissociative identity disorder (AKA multiple personality disorder, a topic addressed in the powerful documentary Joan Baez: I Am A Noise). Baez candidly states in the Author’s Notes that some of the poems are “are heavily influenced by, or in effect written by, some of the inner authors,” adding intriguing layers to her creative process – which she displays through the pieces collected in this book.

 

Bluegrass Memoirs: The Earl Scruggs Revue Beginnings

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Nearly 50 years after the Earl Scruggs Revue concert I saw at the University of Maine, an internet search led me to Jaime Michaels of the opening act, Beckett. He still has vivid memories from that night in Orono. I sent him a copy of my report. He wrote back, saying:

I have no idea about the song titles but it was nice that my ’63 Gibson J50 got a mention … I still have it.

He has vivid memories of his time backstage with Scruggs.

… at the very end of Earl’s set as he walked back out for his 3rd or 4th encore he stopped and said to me “If I’d just play the darned thing right, I wouldn’t have to keep going back out …”

A little later as we were all loading out Earl came up to us and said, “Do you guys want to see my new bus?” He took us for the grand tour. I was still pretty young and had never seen a real tour bus before.

He was such a sweet guy with this humble self-effacing humor.

Earl was proud of that bus, I reckon; he’d named an instrumental after it.

When I saw them in 1975, the Earl Scruggs Revue was a polished Nashville rock act that had been together since 1969. Debuting at a folk festival that May, not long after Scruggs split from Lester Flatt, it featured Earl’s sons.

The two oldest, Gary (then 20) and Randy (then 16) were already Nashville recording studio veterans. They’d been in the Columbia studios multiple times (Gary 11 sessions, Randy 15 sessions) since May 1967, helping on the last three albums Lester and Earl made before their split (Changin’ Times, The Story of Bonnie & Clyde, Nashville Airplane).

Also new to Flatt & Scruggs, in the fall of 1967, was Columbia producer Bob Johnston, then 35. Concerned about declining record sales, Columbia had replaced Frank Jones and Don Law, highly regarded Nashville veterans who’d been producing F&S since the fifties, with Johnston, who was producing Bob Dylan.

Dylan had stunned the folk world when he went electric at the Newport Folk Festival in 1965. He first recorded in Nashville in 1966, completing Blonde On Blonde there using mainly Nashville studio musicians. In the next two years he returned, making John Wesley Harding and Nashville Skyline.

Flatt & Scruggs’ final albums reflected their move to Johnston, a leading producer at forefront of Columbia’s move from acoustic folk into electric folk rock.

Later, when asked about what led to the split with Earl, Flatt spoke of his difficulty in singing the band’s new songs. “Johnston,” He said, “…also cut Bob Dylan and we would record what he would come up with, regardless of whether I liked it or not. I can’t sing Bob Dylan stuff. I mean, Columbia has got Bob Dylan, why did they want me?”

Of the final three F&S albums, both Changin’ Times and Nashville Airplane had folk-rock repertoires. At the very first session for Changin’ Times, four folk-rock favorites were cut, three Dylan hits, one by Ian Tyson: “Don’t Think Twice,” “Four Strong Winds,” “Blowin’ In the Wind,” and “It Ain’t Me Babe.” Here, Earl’s boys Gary (singing) and Randy (lead guitar) were together for the first time in the studio with Flatt & Scruggs and Johnston.

Imagine the dismay of Lester (who, soon after splitting with Earl, would record “I Can’t Tell The Boys from the Girls“) at this session! It seemed as if the young longhairs with their strange new music were taking over.

Released in January 1968, the back cover of Changin’ Times was filled with the image of a rock poster. Unsigned notes beside it read:

With their smash appearance at the Avalon Ballroom (a West Coast temple of rock and light-shows) when they turned on the whole of San Francisco, there are no new worlds left for Flatt and Scruggs to conquer. Flatt and Scruggs are for everyone.

One of the album’s 11 tracks was a remake of Earl’s “Foggy Mountain Breakdown,” which had just become a hit through the soundtrack of Bonnie and Clyde. Five tracks were by Dylan; the album closed with Woody Guthrie’s “This Land is Your Land.”

Gary and Randy Scruggs personified the Lovin’ Spoonful’s “Nashville Cats,” but also in the studio for that album were other, older, Nashville cats – Charlie Daniels, Grady Martin, Bob Moore, Charlie McCoy and other A-team studio musicians. Randy and Gary would come to know these men well as they built life-long careers in the Nashville studios. These careers were forged during their years (1969-82) with the Earl Scruggs Revue.

Fortunately, the Revue’s earliest days were chronicled in a television documentary. David Hoffman’s ninety-minute NET TV special, Earl Scruggs: The Bluegrass Legend – Family and Friends, was recorded in 1969-70. It has been issued on DVD several times since then and can be seen on YouTube.

It’s fascinating to watch Hoffman’s documentation of Scruggs as he narrates his past, voices his present, and sets out his future directions. Along the way, Hoffman captures Earl’s music-making with a wide variety of performers and audiences. By the end of those 90 minutes, Scruggs’ cultural and political perspectives are manifest; likewise the breadth of his musical tastes.

Hoffman filmed in New York, North Carolina, Nashville, Washington, D.C., and California. The documentary opens with a five-minute jam session: Earl, Gary, and Randy are in upstate New York visiting Bob Dylan at the home of illustrator and sculptor Tom Allen, who had done many Flatt & Scruggs album covers. After Bob sings “East Virginia Blues,” Earl asks him if he’d like to hear their version of “Nashville Skyline Rag,” the instrumental title track from Dylan’s most recent album. I don’t know when this jam took place, but in mid-August of 1969, when Earl was in the studio with Lester to record Final Fling: One Last Time (Just For Kicks), an album they’d agreed to make after their split, the first track they recorded was “Nashville Skyline Rag.”

The tune became a fixture in the Revue concert repertoire, used, for example, as the show opener at Orono in 1975 and in 1977 when they played PBS’s Austin City Limits. Earl had recorded it again in 1970 for his first solo album, Nashville’s Rock.

After the jam with Dylan, the film’s next twenty minutes take the viewer with Earl and the boys to his North Carolina home with visits to the Morris Brothers (the first group he’d worked with), Doc Watson, and Scruggs family and friends in the Flint Hill community. It closes with a shot in which Earl speaks of how he’d taken the banjo to different types of music: “Now it’s easy to blend with today’s music. It works very well. I’m really happy. I had dreams of this.”

The next five minutes come from a jam session with the Byrds at a ranch outside Nashville. It begins with them doing “Nothing To It” (the title Earl used for “I Don’t Love Nobody,” when he recorded this tune with Doc Watson) followed by “You Ain’t Goin’ Nowhere,” a Dylan tune that was on the Byrds’ Sweetheart of the Rodeo, the 1968 album that is often thought of as a foundational statement of country rock.

It’s followed by four minutes with electronic music pioneer and composer Gil Trythall, who plays along on Moog synthesizer with Earl and Randy doing “Foggy Mountain Breakdown.”

Then comes an interview with Charlie Daniels, at the time an associate of Bob Johnston, soon to become one of country rock’s leading figures. The focus shifts as he, Earl, and the Revue attend the second Moratorium to End the War in Vietnam, held in Washington, D.C. on November 15, 1969 – generally considered to be the largest demonstration ever in Washington. After performing “Foggy Mountain Breakdown” there, Earl speaks of his opposition to the war.

Back in Nashville, Daniels is co-producing (with Neil Wilburn) All The Way Home, the first Scruggs Brothers album, for the New England folk and classical label Vanguard. The film follows them into a Nashville studio.

Earl is also working on an album, his first post F&S solo project, Nashville’s Rock. After listening to a demo of one track at the Scruggs home, we see an old friend of Earl’s, Dr. Nat Winston, give testimony to his character, and then Earl demonstrates how he creates his music, explaining that he’s self-taught. Next, we meet Earl’s wife Louise, who’s worked as his manager for fifteen years. She points out that Earl was immersed in the music from age five and that their son Randy has had the same experience.

A shift of focus to Randy follows, as we see him picking “Black Mountain Rag” (a guitar performance reflecting the Scruggs affinity for Doc Watson), and then go with him to class at Madison High and have a chat with his principal, who talks about Randy’s “skipping school.”

After hearing from Louise about how she met Earl at the Grand Ole Opry, we drive on a spring afternoon (in 1970) with the Scruggs family from home to the Ryman Auditorium in downtown Nashville. Inside, Earl, with Randy, joins Bill Monroe and the Blue Grass Boys in a backstage dressing room for a jam and then we witness the Revue’s debut on the Opry stage.

In the center is Earl on banjo, flanked by Randy on guitar and Gary on bass and vocals. Also in the band is Jody Maphis, a contemporary of the Scruggs brothers and son of country stars Joe and Rose Maphis, on guitar. He would subsequently move to drums and remain in the Revue for about a decade. On piano and tambourine is Leah Jane Berinati. Except for Earl, this was a group of kids, dressed like young flower power types. They perform two very conservative old traditional songs, “Nine Pound Hammer” and “Reuben,” to an enthusiastically appreciative audience.

The last twenty-five minutes of the documentary follow the Scruggs family as they travel, early in 1970, to California’s Bay Area for a visit and a jam in Joan Baez’s home. Joan, with her young newborn son Gabriel nearby, chats with Earl about their 1959 meeting at the first Newport Folk Festival. She sings two songs (both are Dylan compositions) and then, while photos are shown of her husband – Gabriel’s father David Harris, whose Vietnam protests had led to federal imprisonment for draft refusal – she sings “If I Was A Carpenter” with Gary. A heady mix of politics and music.

The film closes with Earl back in North Carolina talking again about his musical aspirations:

Keep up with the times and make as much progress with the banjo along with other instruments as long as it blends in as possible.

As the credits roll, we hear Earl playing “Folsom Prison Blues” using his tuners.

This documentary, aired at the height of the Vietnam war, included a forthright statement of opposition from a leading figure in Nashville, where there was considerable support for the war. The documentary was also a carefully crafted showcase of the Revue’s folk/country rock repertoire, musical style, and cultural connections.

The albums that Earl and his two oldest sons were working on while Hoffman was making the documentary released before its broadcast and both contain songs and tunes that appear in the film. A couple of examples: “Train Number Forty-Five” (F&S’s radio theme in the early days), which is heard in Earl and Randy’s backstage jam with Bill Monroe, is also heard on Earl’s album Nashville’s Rock. Similarly, Randy’s version of “Black Mountain Rag,” an acoustic guitar solo in the documentary, is heard on the Scruggs Brothers’ album, All The Way Home, in an extended version with not only acoustic and electric guitar breaks but also a banjo break in his father’s style.

In the next Bluegrass Memoir we’ll see how, by 1971 and 1972 when this documentary was broadcast, the Earl Scruggs Revue was appearing on a series of albums that realized Earl’s aspirations and helped launch his touring.

(Editor’s Note: Read our prior Bluegrass Memoir on the Earl Scruggs Revue here.)

Neil V. Rosenberg is an author, scholar, historian, banjo player, Bluegrass Music Hall of Fame inductee, and co-chair of the IBMA Foundation’s Arnold Shultz Fund.

Photo of Rosenberg by Terri Thomson Rosenberg. 

Edited by Justin Hiltner.

Dust Bowl Balladeer Reboot: AI Woody Guthrie Releases New Songs

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

TULSA, OK – Generative AI company Altosphere released an album of “new” Woody Guthrie music, courtesy of their first artificially generated resurrection of the famous folk musician, who died in 1967.

“Artists like Woody Guthrie have been silent for years,” declared Altosphere CEO Blake Mundy. “So we thought, like, what if Woody dropped a new joint now? Wouldn’t that be sick?”

Guthrie, once a towering figure of American folk music, championed themes of equality, socialism, and anti-fascism and laid the groundwork for the socially conscious folk music later popularized by artists like Bob Dylan and Joan Baez. But apparently, AI Woody didn’t get the memo.

After initial testing returned some positive song outputs, researchers quickly discovered that their creation, dubbed “WoodyBot,” departed sharply from the views typically associated with Guthrie.

While the flesh-and-blood Guthrie was best known for “This Land is Your Land” and a guitar with the inscription “This machine kills fascists,” WoodyBot cranked out tunes praising corporate consolidation, touting a lower minimum wage, and lauding police militarization.

In one tune called “Good Guy with a Gun,” the bot crooned, “I’m a fella who ain’t yella/ This country’s headed down/ I’ll get my AR-15/ Run the leftists outta town!”

Attempts to course-correct the model with additional data from the Guthrie canon were not received well by WoodyBot. “I tried to give some feedback when it wrote ‘No Women in the Voting Booth,'” said AI researcher Pico Dhaliwal. “But WoodyBot called me a commie pinko and doxxed my whole family. From then on, I just let it do its thing.”

Other WoodyBot “hits” included “Take a Ride in the Cybertruck!,” “Jesus Was a Snowflake,” “Unions Make You Gay,” and “A Jar of Monster Energy (Makes Me Feel Alive!)”

“We still have some tweaking to do,” Mundy admitted, before adding with enthusiasm, “But actually, I think these songs slap way harder than the original stuff.”

Greg Hess is a comedy writer and performer in Los Angeles. His work has been featured in The American Bystander, The Onion, Shouts & Murmurs, Points in Case, and he cohosts the hit satirical podcast MEGA.

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

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maria Muldaur performs. Photo by Chris Stegner.

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

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

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

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

Below are a few excerpts for that artist panel conversation:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

MIXTAPE: Liberated Women by Dawn Landes

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

My new album, The Liberated Woman’s Songbook, reimagines folk songs about women’s activism from a songbook published in 1971 at the height of the Women’s Liberation Movement. Songbooks were the playlists of the past. Before people could burn CDs or make mixtapes, if they wanted to share songs they would make books or zines. When I was researching for this project, I consulted a lot of songbooks and zines from the late ’60s and early ’70s and found so many delightful things! Here are a few of my favorite finds (most pre-dating 1971, when the book was published). – Dawn Landes

“Hard is the Fortune of All Womankind (1830)” – Dawn Landes

This traditional ballad was often sung at protests during the Women’s Liberation Movement in the late ’60s and early ’70s. It was recorded by Peggy Seeger in 1954 and Joan Baez in 1961 under an alternate title, “The Wagoner’s Lad.” The lyrics date back to its first printing by English song collector Cecil Sharp.

“Single Girl, Married Girl” – The Carter Family

I first heard this Appalachian song when I worked at a bookstore in NYC and would constantly listen to a Carter Family CD on repeat. Apparently Sara Carter didn’t like the song and didn’t want to record it in 1927, but I’m so glad she did!

“I’m Gonna Be an Engineer” – Peggy Seeger

This masterpiece was written in the ’70s by the great Peggy Seeger, an incredible musician, writer, and keeper of the folk tradition (also, the sister of Pete Seeger). She’s been an advocate for women’s rights throughout her long career and has recorded many folk songs on women’s issues.

“Lady, What Do You Do All Day?” – Peggy Seeger

Seeger’s epic retort to Ewan MacColl’s question at the top of the song is worthy of its own film. MacColl and Seeger were musical and life partners for 30 years and made so many amazing recordings together. Check out her memoir, The First Time Ever, for some wild stories about the two.

“It’s My Way” – Buffy Sainte-Marie

This was the title track to Buffy Sainte-Marie’s debut album in 1964. That whole album is mind-blowing, but this song stands out to me. It’s so self-assured and strong. She’s still performing it in her 80s and even released a rock version in 2015.

“You Don’t Own Me” – Lesley Gore

Lesley Gore was 17 years old when she recorded this in 1963! One of the song’s two writers, John Madera, said its sensibility was shaped by his upbringing and participation in the civil rights movement.

“Oughta Be A Woman” – Sweet Honey In the Rock

Bernice Johnson Reagan said, “June Jordan wrote the words to ‘Oughta Be a Woman’ after I talked about my mother.” I really love the narrators voice in the writing and the uplifting voices of Sweet Honey In the Rock singing this.

“Silver Dagger” – Joan Baez

This song casts such a spell and Joan Baez is one of my all time favorite singers.

“Which Side Are You On (1931)” – Dawn Landes

Here’s a labor song mashup that combines Florence Reece’s lyrics from “Which Side Are You On” with Aunt Molly Jackson’s “I Am a Union Woman.” I’m singing the part of Florence Reece and Kanene Pipkin (of The Lone Bellow) is singing the Aunt Molly lyrics. Both women wrote protest songs during the “Bloody” Harlan County, Kentucky miners strike.

“Custom Made Woman Blues” – Hazel Dickens & Alice Gerrard

I’ve been lucky enough to spend some time with Alice Gerrard and she told me that the first time she and Hazel Dickens performed this song at a women’s festival the audience clapped so loud they had to play it again! Immediately! Legends.

“I Am Woman” – Helen Reddy

The production on this song really places me exactly in the year 1971, when The Liberated Woman’s Songbook was published and Helen Reddy’s song was about to become a huge part of the soundtrack to the Women’s Liberation Movement. There’s a great documentary about her life and this song on Netflix.

Photo Credit: Heather Evans Smith

Wilma Lee Cooper: A Mountain Music Star Shining Through the Decades

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Wilma Lee Cooper, who died in 2011 at age 90, is being inducted into the Bluegrass Music Hall of Fame this month. Many of her fans, friends and followers say it’s about time.

A snapshot of Wilma Lee. Wilma Leigh (later changed to “Lee”) Leary, was born in West Virginia in 1921. Her first performances were as a young girl in the family band. Her last performance as a band leader was in 2001 at the age of 80, when she had a stroke while singing at the Grand Ole Opry. Determined to finish the song, she was helped off stage to a standing ovation.

Between these times, this tiny woman dressed in home-made ruffled dresses and high heels impressed everyone she encountered in the music world.

She had a powerful voice and was an equally powerful guitar player. With her inherent smarts (she skipped several grades) and business degree, she successfully navigated the music industry and kept all the band’s books, first with her husband, Dale Troy “Stoney” Cooper, and then on her own after Stoney’s death.

She traveled with a sewing machine and a coffee maker. After every tour, she would wash all her stage clothes and spend 45 minutes ironing each dress.

She also drove the band bus and fixed her family’s television sets. She was a kind and generous boss, a nurturing mother, an ethical and caring woman and a force of nature on stage.

(Above, read an article on Wilma Lee Cooper published in 1977 in Sing Out! written by Alice Gerrard)

From church socials to radio. Reviewing Wilma Lee Cooper’s musical life is an immersion course in the evolution of country and bluegrass music. The Leary Family Band – Wilma Lee’s parents, plus Wilma Lee, her two sisters, and a fiddle-playing uncle – started as a local gospel group. The girls later incorporated secular music sets.

Their prize for winning a statewide contest was the chance to perform at the National Folk Festival in Washington, D.C. A stop at WSVA in Harrisonburg, Virginia, on the way home brought a job offer – and big changes. In one day, the Leary Family went from a local ensemble to professionals with a show of their own. And, when their fiddling uncle returned to his teaching job, the family recruited a young fiddler then called “Smiley” Cooper. (Radio listeners voted for the new name, “Stoney,” to avoid a conflict with a state yodeling champion called Smiley).

Soon, the beautiful oldest daughter and the movie-star handsome fiddler were singing duets with the band. They married in 1941.

Foregoing music to raise their daughter, Carol Lee, in one place was short-lived. Wilma Lee is quoted in Bear Family liner notes as saying, “I was goin’ nuts at home… Stoney wasn’t happy… and it was awful hard to settle down that way.”

On to the Grand Ole Opry. Plunging back into performing, Stoney and Wilma Lee followed the common path of moving from radio station to radio station. They hired back-up players, eventually settling on the band name, “Clinch Mountain Clan.”
In a 2023 Bluegrass Unlimited article, Jack Bernhardt referred to “Stoney’s old-time/bluegrass fiddle and Wilma Lee’s propulsive rhythm guitar and soul-stirring vocals.” Stoney also sang harmonies.

Their 1947 move to Wheeling, West Virginia, and the WWVA Jamboree, broadcast on a 50,000 watt station, propelled the Coopers into the national spotlight. By the mid-1950s, they were charting high on Billboard. Within a year of their 1956 hit record, “Cheated Too,” they joined the Grand Ole Opry. They had seven hit records by 1961, with some of Nashville’s top writers, like Don Gibson and Boudleaux Bryant, writing for them – as well as songs written by Wilma and Stoney, themselves. While the recording business was moving away from what had been called “hillbilly music,” the Grand Ole Opry continued to welcome the eclectic range of country music, from Grandpa Jones and Bill Monroe to “Nashville Sound” crooners.

Dan Rogers, Vice President and Executive Producer of the Grand Ole Opry, said, “It was this cavalcade of great artists, all doing something similar, but also all doing something with their own stamps and styles. It didn’t need characterization. It was just, ‘This is Wilma Lee and Stoney.’ It might have been one of those songs that took them to the Top 10 of the country charts, or it may have been an instrumental or a gospel piece.”

Over time, the Coopers found themselves in conflict with the Nashville labels. Wilma Lee said a producer denied her request to record “I Dreamed of a Hillbilly Heaven,” claiming no one would buy it. It later became a huge hit for Tex Ritter. And they wanted her to record songs she would never perform.

The welcoming bluegrass world. While country radio was pushing away mountain music, new audiences were inviting the Coopers in. Folk and bluegrass fans loved their traditional sounds, as well as their stellar musicianship.

The Clinch Mountain Clan attracted top sidemen. To name a few, Butch Robins, Vic Jordan and Tater Tate went on to play for Bill Monroe, and Jimmy D. Brock later joined the Osborne’s. Dobro master Gene Wooten was in Wilma Lee’s band, as was Woody Paul, shortly before forming Riders In the Sky, and Terry Smith, now of the Grascals.

Marty Lanham (musician, luthier and a founder of the Station Inn) had just moved to Nashville, where he was befriended by Wilma Lee’s sisters, Jeraldine (Jerry) Jonson and Peggy Gayle. They told him the Coopers were looking for a bass player. So, he borrowed a bass, took some lessons – and become part of the Clinch Mountain Clan three weeks later.

The Coopers always gave their audiences what they expected. Lanham said, “Bill Carter would play Dobro and electric guitar, and Mike Lattimore would play either banjo or drums. At a bluegrass festival, they would use the bluegrass instrumentation and then switch over to electric guitar and drums,” at a country booking.

In 1974, the Smithsonian Institution dubbed Wilma Lee, “The First Lady of Bluegrass.” In 1976, Rounder Records – dedicated to promoting roots music – invited Stoney and Wilma Lee to record. Marian Leighton Levy, a Rounder co-founder, remembered Stoney as “tall, dark and handsome,” with an Errol Flynn aura, while Wilma Lee “was outgoing and friendly, in a low-key and down home way. She looked and played the part of a real professional, and yet at the same time she was warm and made you feel welcome.” Wilma Lee also worked with Rounder to select material, and she seemed to be “the business person in the group and in the family,” Levy remembers.

Wilma Lee takes the lead. Wilma Lee was 56 when Stoney died in 1977. She wasn’t ready to sit back and put her feet up. She reassembled a band, which after some initial shuffling included Gene Wooten; Stan (Stanjo) Brown, who later played with Bill Monroe; Gary Bailey; and Woody Paul. (Wilma Lee continued her preference for an electric bass, even after getting pushback from bluegrass critics who hated it on recordings.)

Their first year, the band traveled 110,000 miles, playing about 140 gigs. On one 3,600 mile week-long trip, Wilma Lee drove about one-third of the time.

Brown remembers that Wilma Lee embraced the bluegrass world as it was embracing her. “She was doing the same material (as when Stoney was alive), but it was approached a whole different way. Her guitar really drove the rhythm and the energy in the band. And her voice… it set the timing… it was so precise. I had never played with anybody up to that point who had that much energy and drive.”

And she always connected at an emotional level. She would be sobbing by the end of the song “A Daisy a Day,” about a man who leaves flowers on his wife’s grave. “It was really sincere. There was nothing theatrical about her,” Brown said.

She told Alice Gerrard for Sing Out!, “…I see the story a-happening while I’m singing the song… I guess I’m one that likes what you call your heart and story songs. They tell a story – you’ve got to believe it.”

Rogers of the Opry said, “I always think of her music as pure, and I think that her heart was the same. I don’t think she could have been any other way if she’d tried.”

Wilma Lee continued to record, as well as perform, until her stroke in 2001. In 2010, she appeared on stage once more at the Opry to thank her fans for their years of support.

Wilma Lee and the world of bluegrass. Stoney and Wilma Lee were stars, no matter what genre they were playing. Their partnership was one of a kind. And Wilma – as a singer, as a guitar player, as a fireball on stage and a huge heart off stage – has left a powerful legacy.

In 1994, the International Bluegrass Music Association presented Wilma Lee with its Award of Merit. This year, she will receive its highest honor, induction into the Bluegrass Music Hall of Fame.

Rounder’s Levy said, “There are very few women of her generation in the Bluegrass Music Hall of Fame.” (In fact,
only eight of the current 70 inductees are women or have women members.) And Levy believes Wilma Lee clearly belongs there.

“In terms of being on the Grand Ole Opry, making lots of records, having a substantial career… the uniqueness of her vocal style, playing guitar when most women in bands weren’t playing guitars or instruments… She was a bandleader and a featured voice, face and name, right up there in her own right,” Levy said.

Ken Irwin, another Rounder co-founder, said, “She was an energy source that people didn’t see very often… She would put it all out there. She brought not only the tunes, but the sensibility, of the old-time music that she grew up with, and that she didn’t change.”

Gerrard said the popular female folk revival singers at the time, like Joan Baez and Judy Collins, sounded high and sweet. But Wilma Lee’s voice – like Molly O’Day’s and Ola Belle Reed’s – had grit and strength. “They weren’t holding back. They were letting go – putting their voices out there.” That’s what Gerrard was striving for and what made her duets with Hazel Dickens so compelling.

Andrea Roberts, principal of the Andrea Roberts Agency, was an adolescent when she first saw Wilma Lee perform. “She carried herself so professionally, looked like a star – and backed it up with talent and business leadership. She was a dynamic vocalist – a big, booming voice – and she played the guitar like she meant it! She was not timid… and that left an indelible mark on me even when I didn’t realize it was happening.

“Not until I started my own band as a 21-year-old woman did I realize the significance of Wilma Lee’s role as band leader and front person. At that point in my own career, Wilma Lee’s accomplishments became very important to me, and I looked to her as a role model for persevering in a male-dominated business.”

A daughter’s thoughts. Carol Lee Cooper, Stoney and Wilma Lee’s daughter, who first sang on stage with her parents at age two, has carried on the family musical tradition. As an adult, she joined her parents’ show at the Opry. Eventually, she became a Nashville legend as the long-time leader of the Carol Lee Singers, the back-up vocalists at the Grand Ole Opry. A great vocalist, she was Conway Twitty’s favorite harmony partner.

Carol Lee is proud that her parents’ work is recorded in the Library of Congress and the Smithsonian Institution. Of her mother’s induction into the Bluegrass Hall of Fame, Carol Lee said, “She would be so honored to know that.”

Author’s Note: Many excellent accounts of Wilma Lee’s life and career have been written. A great starting place for anything you want to know about women in bluegrass is Murphy Hicks Henry’s Pretty Good for a Girl. Some other good sources, in addition to the Gerrard interview mentioned above, are Bluegrass Unlimited and liner notes from a Bear Family compilation.

Editor’s Note: “You Can’t Talk About Women in Country Music Without Talking About… Wilma Lee Cooper” by Alice Gerrard (SING OUT! Volume 26 Issue 2, 1977) appears with permission; courtesy of Mark Moss and SING OUT!

Photo Credit: David Gahr, from SING OUT! Volume 26 Issue 2, 1977

Janis Ian Shines on Grammy-Nominated Final Album, ‘Light at the End of the Line’

Posted on by Editor

That old adage about God laughing at the plans of meager humans hit home in bittersweet fashion for Janis Ian. The legendary singer-songwriter was in the midst of an incredible victory lap: Her stunning studio album The Light at the End of the Line, released early in 2022, received critical accolades, nabbed a Grammy nomination for Best Folk Album, and ushered in a Lifetime Achievement Award from Folk Alliance International. She had begun a final tour when a spring bout of laryngitis led to a diagnosis of vocal fold scarring, a condition that would make live performances impossible and forced the cancellation of her remaining tour dates.

When Ian spoke to BGS last month, her speaking voice was clear and cheerful, even when recounting the tough break mentioned above. She had plenty of reasons for hope and happiness anyway, as she talked about the recording of and response to The Light at the End of the Line, a newly remastered CD version of her classic 1975 album Between the Lines, and other memories of her monumental career in music.

BGS: First of all, how are you feeling, with regard to your vocal cord injury?

Janis Ian: It’s a little weird. I wouldn’t have expected that I’d be forced to stop. The plan was always that I would go on and sing until May 31, 2023, and then close out with a big concert in Dublin, have all my friends join me for a documentary they’re making about me, and then do one-offs with my friends. To suddenly not be able to do any of that, I’m still in shock, but I’m getting through.

Well, if The Light at the End of the Line is your last album, you certainly went out on a high note. There is such ease about the record and a sense of grace.

I love to hear that. A sense of grace.

Did it feel that easy making it, or was there pressure knowing that it was the last album?

I didn’t think about it being the last album until I started looking at the list of songs and realized that it had been 15 years since the last one. I kept a whiteboard of songs that I thought were really good, that lived up to the mark. One day I looked at it, and I added one song and I thought, “All I’m missing is the title song now.” From there, this one probably fell into place more easily than anything I’ve ever done.

I put off writing the title song as long as I could because I didn’t want to write a farewell song. And I wanted to walk that thin line between saying thank you and being maudlin. The song was in scraps of paper all over the house. My wife kept going around the house picking them up worried that I would throw them out. The idea for the bridge was on the back of a paper plate. I wrote it down and she kept saying, “Please don’t eat off this now.” When I looked up, I had an album of first-take vocals. So that feels really good too. Given what’s happened to my voice, it’s nice to know that at that point, the first take was the final take.

I’ve read in other interviews that you normally don’t set out to write a song with a predetermined topic in mind.

Pretty rare.

But because you intended this to be your last record, were there certain topics that you wanted to hit?

I felt like it was important to step out. It was important to be brave. It was important to have a song like “Resist” on there. It was also important to be hopeful and have something like “Better Times Will Come.” I really wanted to walk the thin line between those two, between everything has got to start changing and yet it’s hopeful.

You mentioned “Resist,” and to me, the honesty and fearlessness of that song harken back to “Society’s Child.” I was looking up videos of you performing it back when it was released. In one, you’re introduced by Leonard Bernstein, who gushes over the brilliance of the song. In another, it’s on The Smothers Brothers Show and they’re joined by Jimmy Durante in introducing it! Can you wrap your head around the longevity you’ve had in the music world, from that song being released in 1966 to a Grammy nomination in 2022?

You know, I went to my throat doctor for a follow-up yesterday, and he said to me, “58 years is an incredible run. Most artists, it’s 15 years until their voice goes.” I thought about that and the line that I always heard from fans on tour was “Gosh, you sound just like you’ve always sounded.”

How much has the reaction to the album meant to you, not just from critics, the Folk Alliance, and the Grammys, but also from fans?

I have a pretty personal relationship with my fans. I learned after “Society’s Child” not to be afraid of them. Up until COVID, I stayed after every show to sign and to meet people. I always emphasized you don’t have to buy anything to say hello or to get a hug. And I really saw what songs like “At Seventeen” meant to them. It’s very moving. So, to put out something like this and have the fans rooting for me, it’s pretty great. I remember on Facebook when I did the announcement about canceling the tour, it killed me. We were all set, and there I was saying there’s not going to be a tour and there aren’t going to be makeup dates. When I announced it, I expected blowback. I expected people to be annoyed. I was shocked. I had 10,000 positive responses.

A lot of those fans have followed you through the years, with your music accompanying them in different stages of their life. Was that the thought process behind including a song like “A Light at the End of the Line,” to address yet another stage?

The interesting thing about that song and “I’m Still Standing” is that I thought those songs were for people 50 and over, people of my generation. The most feedback I’ve gotten has been from people 15 to 25 years old. The first time I sang “I’m Still Standing” was for two other songwriters aged 19 and 20. And the woman started crying. I said, “You can’t possibly relate to this.” She said, “This is the story of my life. You just told what I’ve been going through.” There’s a lot to be said, as a writer, for keeping in mind that you don’t know what you’re talking about. (laughing)

Switching gears to the reissue of Between the Lines, that album possesses such variety in terms of musical styles. It is far from a typical “singer-songwriter” record in that respect. How important was it to be able to put out a remastered version that captures those original sounds?

I got control of the record everywhere but North America. I started talking to Sony and basically said, “You’ve been using the same thing that you had out in 1983. Please let me go in and remaster. I’ll pay for it. Give me permission.” That was part of why I brought in Brooks Arthur. (Arthur passed away this past October after working on the reissue.) He was the original producer/engineer. At the time he was running Adam Sandler’s music business. Bringing in Brooks was like saying, “I’m not throwing it out. I’m not getting rid of what was there.” But I wanted to know what would have happened if Brooks had worked with this kind of equipment. And that’s what we did.

You can’t take away that it was recorded in 914 Studios (in Blauvelt, New York) that was held together with spit and glue. The best kind of studios are. They’re the least fancy. But you could take advantage of things like being able to remember mixes. It was great to be able to remaster it and feel like finally the CD was commensurate with what the album had been.

Did you feel at that time you were pushing boundaries with a radio song like “At Seventeen,” and did anyone ever try to rein that in for commercial reasons?

I think by then that I didn’t really care what anybody else thought. (laughing) There was pressure on it. I threw my then-manager out of the session because she kept saying that I was destroying a potential hit. Brooks and I had absolute faith in the song and so did every musician who played it. There was some pressure from the record company to drop the second verse and make it a three-minute song. But instead, Brooks did that brilliant little Bucky Pizzarelli guitar lick and made it a single.

Do you remember writing that opening line “I learned the truth at seventeen,” and did you immediately feel like you had something special?

Absolutely. That was one of maybe three songs in my life where I thought, “I think I’ve written a radio-friendly song.” That’s not my forte. People like Diane Warren, they do that without even thinking. It’s a real talent that I don’t happen to have. But I knew from that first line that I was onto something special. It was really scary. I didn’t want to blow it.

You plan to focus your artistic impulses on other endeavors besides music, but what happens if something pops into your head and heart and wants to be a song?

Fortunately for me, I notate. There’s still always music running in my head. That hasn’t changed. I could probably limp through a demo and make myself understood enough to send it to another artist. It’s just I can’t hold my pitch for an extended period, which means I can’t do two or three songs in a row. And my voice gets gravelly without warning. At that point, I’m Tom Waits. OK, there are worse things to be.

Is there one aspect of your career of which you’re the proudest?

That’s a good question. I think recognition from other artists. Because really, that’s the mark you try to hit. Leonard Cohen loved my work. And Leonard is the mark that you’re trying to hit if you’re me as a songwriter. Ella Fitzgerald thought I was a great singer. That’s a mark you try to hit. The people who I work with and whose records I grew up with, people like Joan Baez. Joan never goes anywhere these days but she came to my last show in Berkeley. She came backstage and said, “So you’re really doing it?” And I said, “Yep, this is the last tour.” That somebody like Joan cared enough to call me when she heard that I was having vocal problems, that’s meaningful to me.

And that’s not to denigrate the fans, because clearly they’ve meant a great deal to me and they’ve been really good to me and understanding. It’s the fans that raised all that money, $1.3 million, for the Pearl Foundation (a charity Ian founded with her wife Patricia Snyder) because I couldn’t raise all that on my own. But for me, the highlights are the fun I’ve had with other performers. Playing guitar, playing lead guitar with somebody like Tommy Emmanuel. Walking on stage with somebody like Chet Atkins and Michael Hedges. Those are amazing memories.

Thanks so much, Janis. I have to say I’ve never done an interview that encompassed both Leonard Bernstein and Adam Sandler.

That’s a good span! (laughing)

Photo Credit: Niall Fennessy

With His Son and Special Guests, David Crosby Finds His Way on ‘For Free’

Posted on by Editor

“I think I found my way.”

When a guy about to turn 80 sings that line, you take note. When that guy is David Crosby, who in fact turns that age on August 14… well…

“I don’t know if I would have sung it at any other time in my life,” Crosby says in a Zoom chat from his home north of Santa Barbara, California, where he lives with Jan Dance, his wife of 34 years.

But sing it he does, in the song “I Think I,” a highlight of his new album, For Free. With this, his fifth album in seven years (after just three solo albums in the earlier part of his career), he comes to his 80th in a remarkable creative run. It’s a strong collection featuring the fruits of several creative collaborations, mostly with his son, James Raymond. Among the guests are Michael McDonald on the shining opener “River Rise,” Steely Dan’s Donald Fagen on the jazzy, dark “Rodriguez For a Night” and Sarah Jarosz, with whom he duets on a gorgeously spare version of the Joni Mitchell song that gives the album its title.

It’s that line from “I Think I,” though, that speaks most profoundly to the state of his life. If you know much about that life, you understand. And you might greet those words with a sigh of relief. He certainly does.

“I do feel happy now,” he says. “The thing I love about the song the most is that it’s up. It’s, you know, happy sounding. Normally I record tortured ballads that go on for days. ‘The dog died’ or ‘my truck broke down.’ This is up and happy and positive and it just captures that mood that’s around. That’s a blessing for me. That’s a great thing.”

The life leading to this moment has been well-documented and much discussed. Most significantly, Crosby created some of the most bracing, beloved, and enduring American music of the past 60 years, first as a founding member of folk-rock pioneers the Byrds and then in the various partnerships with Stephen Stills, Graham Nash and/or Neil Young. Along with the essential, indelible songs CSN(&Y) gave us, there was much discord and discontent and it finally blew up, apparently for good, in 2014, sparked in part by some unfortunate remarks Crosby made regarding Young’s personal life. And Crosby’s history is marked by his years of drug addiction and a consequent prison term and liver transplant — and, thankfully, recovery. This was all covered in Remember My Name, the unflinching 2019 documentary that brought him to some painfully heartfelt reckonings.

For better or worse, Crosby’s legacy is tangled up with groups and partnerships. Asked to untangle it, he turns thoughtful.

“A lot of the musical complexity and strangeness comes from me loving jazz and world music,” he says. “I mean, I like a lot of different kinds of music, man. I like bluegrass. I like blues. I like classical music. And that has influenced me very strongly. Particularly jazz, and particularly jazz keyboard players, McCoy Tyner, Bill Evans, people like that. They have had a very strong influence because they played those real dense, big tone, cluster kinds of chords. And I couldn’t do them in regular tuning on the guitar. That’s what made me start re-tuning the guitar into other shapes so that I could get those kind of chords. So the jazz thing really did stack me up differently.”

That influence has been a constant facet, all the way back to the Byrds (“Everybody’s Been Burned” is almost a template for the folk-jazz explorations Tim Buckley would make) and CSN (“Guinnevere,” with its floating harmonics, was covered by both Miles Davis and jazz flute player Herbie Mann).

These days Crosby is not focused on the past, although with last year’s 50th anniversary of the CSN&Y album Déjà Vu and the expanded deluxe reissue, he’s had to do more of that than he’d like.

“I always prefer when it comes to talking about me, I like it to be somebody else doing the talking,” he says.

He’s not focused on the future, either. He says that he likely won’t tour again and with tendonitis in both hands, he expects he won’t be able to play guitar anymore within a year — a great shame as his guitar playing, with its intricate jazz voicings and inventive tunings, is as stunning as his singing, if not as widely recognized.

He’s certainly not looking forward to his birthday.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no!” he insists. “Birthdays are not happy when you get old. No, no, no, no, no, no! We don’t celebrate. We mourn those.”

Yet he’s utterly bubbly celebrating the new album, as well as the four leading up to it, by far his most prolific stretch in terms of making and releasing his own music. It’s not often that we can say that about someone’s 70s, let alone someone with such a vaunted career packed with songs and albums cherished dearly by millions.

“Isn’t that weird?” he says. “It’s just completely bass-ackwards. But there you go.”

To what does he attribute this?

“I got out of CSN,” he says, never one to mince words. “It was, obviously, a wonderful band and we did a lot of really great stuff. But when it when sour, it went really sour. And it went sour very fast.”

It was rough, but the silver lining shines brightly.

“I don’t make anywhere near as much money,” he says. “But I’m making good music. And that’s kind of what they put me here to do, I think.”

Cue the title song, Mitchell’s loving portrait of a street musician playing for the pure joy of it. This is the third straight Crosby album to include a Mitchell song, following “Amelia” on 2017’s Sky Trails and “Woodstock” closing 2018’s Here If You Listen. Crosby, who was an early champion (and romantic partner) of Mitchell’s, producing her debut album, Song to a Seagull, sang “For Free” on the Byrds’ 1973 reunion album. Now, though, it has a deeper resonance, reconnecting to the essence of music-making. Rather than an observer, he’s the guy in the song.

“Yep,” he says. “There I am standing on the corner. It’s squarely, smack dab in the middle of who I wanted to be, as me. I love what it says. Putting it on as the title track is also taking a little dig at the streamers. Because it is for free, man. They don’t pay us.”

Crosby had become a fan of Sarah Jarosz via I’m With Her, the group in which she’s teamed with Aoife O’Donovan and Sara Watkins. And he loved Jarosz’s 2020 album, World on the Ground.

“I called her up and said, ‘Listen, Sarah. Can we do something together?’” he says. “And she said, ‘Sure! What do you want to do?’ And I said, ‘I don’t know. I just want to sing with you.’ And she said, ‘Oh, you sweetheart.’”

Crosby quickly suggested “For Free.”

“I’ve sung it a bunch, and I’m confident with it,” he told her. “She said, ‘Oh, I love that song.’ So I sent her a tape of it that I went in to the studio and cut. James made this incredible piano track for it. Just beautiful. Sarah sent it back with her vocal on it, and it completely blew my mind out of my ear. It was unbelievably good.”

Clearly, Crosby still craves collaboration. A sense of joyful purpose is unmistakable in his voice and in the voices and playing of those who helped him make the album. Foremost is James Raymond, the producer-composer-keyboardist who has been at Crosby’s musical side regularly since 1997, five years after learning that Crosby was his biological father. His talents have been showcased not only in his father’s solo projects, but also for years with CSN as a full-time member of the touring band, and in the jazzy group Crosby and Raymond fronted off and on with bassist Jeff Pevar, cheekily branded CPR. On For Free, Raymond wrote or co-wrote seven of its 10 songs, including “I Think I” and the somberly beautiful closer, “I Won’t Stay for Long,” inspired by Marcel Camus’ haunting 1959 film Black Orpheus.

“It’s wild to watch,” Crosby beamed. “He’s gotten to be as good a writer as I am, or better. ‘I Won’t Stay for Long’ is the best song on the record. It makes me cry. It just freaks me out.”

Guitarist Dean Parks adds color to “Rodriguez” and “Shot at Me,” the latter a powerful ballad which he co-wrote from Crosby’s words inspired by an encounter with an Afghanistan war veteran, who told him of the most human costs of war. It’s a strong addition to Crosby’s deep catalog of incisive, biting topical songs.

“I seem to run into those guys and talk to them,” Crosby says. “I ran into this guy at the airport and was drinking in the bar and he looked really bummed, really sad. So sure, I talked to him.”

As for not being able to tour anymore, Crosby is sad but sanguine.

“Singing live is the great joy of my life,” he says. “My family and singing live. That’s the top of my world, you know?”

Even if the shows stop, the music won’t, right?

“I don’t know,” he says. “I can still sing. That’s why we’re doing the records, because we love making music. Right? They obviously don’t pay us for them, so that’s the only reason there could be. We’re not trying to win the ratings war or something. We’re just singing exactly the music that really rings our bell and makes our heart sing. And there you go. And if people like it, great. And if they don’t like it, great, we don’t care.”

Photo credit: Anna Webber.
Album cover painting by Joan Baez.

BGS 5+5: Anya Hinkle

Posted on by Editor

Artist: Anya Hinkle
Hometown: Asheville, North Carolina
Latest album: Eden and Her Borderland
Personal nicknames (or rejected band names): Anyabird

Which artist has influenced you the most … and how?

I guess far and away I have to answer — Gillian Welch. I grew up in the New River Valley of Virginia listening to Tony Rice, Norman Blake, Taj Mahal, Hot Tuna, Muddy Waters, Grateful Dead, and Old and in the Way, loved bluegrass and blues, but also female folk singers like Joan Baez and Judy Collins, pop stars like Madonna and Cyndi Lauper, and songwriters like Sarah McLachlan, Natalie Merchant, and Suzanne Vega. It just took Gillian to come around with her Revival album and put all that together for me, that you could incorporate all those great roots sounds into something completely modern and original. I was living in California at the time I heard her first album. I grabbed my fiddle and headed straight down to 5th String Music in Berkeley and started going to every bluegrass jam I could find. I thank her for giving me the idea that I could do it too — because of her genius, I could begin to imagine myself singing and playing guitar and writing songs too. It’s important to have someone you can look up to and that you can relate to so you can even have the idea in the first place.

What’s the toughest time you ever had writing a song?

For more than a dozen years now, I’ve been hanging around the Cumberlands with my buddy “Hippie” Jack Stoddart, someone who, in his rough and audacious way, brings people together to make a lot of magic. Hippie said to me one day, “I want to introduce you to Zona.” He’d been doing a lot of outreach work out of an old school bus bringing groceries and coats and toys and stuff to people living in former mining towns in Middle Tennessee. So he brought me up the mountain to meet the hardened sweetness that is Zona Abston. We sat around her kitchen table and she told me her life story, a miner’s daughter, growing up with little education and no money, not much luck or hope. When we collapsed back in the truck, Hippie said to me, “You better write this shit down!” And so I did. I wrote every detail: the cancer, the hunger, the cheating, the shining, the debt, the babies, the heartbreak. I came back with a mess of notes and thought, “How do I make a song out of this?” So I sat down and tried to pull out the most specific and moving details of everything she told me and created a ballad for her. I was super nervous to play it for her because, well it was HER life. SHE had to live it. But when I sang it for her the tears rolled down her beautiful face. She said, yup it’s all true, every word of it.

If you had to write a mission statement for your career, what would it be?

I actually thought about this a lot earlier this year, during the pandemic when I was trying to understand what my purpose was in music when it seemed like the industry was going to hell. I decided to focus on three things, and wrote them on a yellow sticky note that is taped in front of my desk for quick reference. The first is authenticity, and a commitment to truth and honesty to who I am as an artist. It’s a challenge to believe that it’s all already inside. I don’t need to grasp at something outside of myself. I just need to continue to learn to trust myself and be myself. The second thing is connection — connection with other artists and musicians, connections with my fans and supporters, and connections with anyone along the path. Those beautiful relationships are the foundation for anything I can possibly hope to accomplish in this lifetime. Saying “yes” and valuing the people that show up for me is oxygen. The third thing is creativity — growth and discovery. Allowing myself to surrender to the journey, giving up thinking I have to have everything figured out and under control. I need to just submit to curiosity, openness, and faith.

Which elements of nature do you spend the most time with and how do those impact your work?

Before I was a musician I was trained as an ethnobotanist. I traveled half the world studying plants and their uses and connections to culture. I love referring specifically to plant species in my songs because they can be so symbolic in our physical world. For example, in the the title track for my new record, Eden and Her Borderlands, I use a couple of plants that carry a deeper meaning. The cedar is fragrant and twisted, it’s green the year round, its oils are used to protect against decay and disease, it is sacred and ancient in its symbolism. I also use the sycamore. It is stately and grand, always grows near sweet water. It is often a boundary and its presence on the landscape signals a threshold that we approach and then cross over. Adding these botanical details to the song is like adding spices to a recipe, it gives more depth, even for those that might not know anything about botany. And who knows, maybe it will inspire people to love plants like I do!

How often do you hide behind a character in a song or use “you” when it’s actually “me”?

I love this question because initially there can be so much fear in exposing your true self. Absolutely mortifying to lay bare the thoughts and emotions of a real human, the one behind the Facebook posts and the stage persona and the person you think you are or wish you were. The real one with all the real flaws, that is the person that is actually interesting. But the songs really push yourself (myself!!!) to look in the mirror and substitute the “you” with “me,” to get personal. Well, it’s a journey of acceptance and insight. Getting personal is the thing that connects us to the rest of humanity and, honestly, the thing that makes a good song, the thing that makes a song relatable.

I recently took a songwriting course with Mary Gauthier. In the song I shared, I kept referring to myself as “babe.” She said, who is babe? She focuses a lot on pronouns, you know, who are we talking about here? Because in our heads, it’s always about us. It can’t NOT be. We are trying to figure out what the hell we are doing here and if we are at all worthy of anything we are pretending to do. It takes a lot of working through fear to write songs. It’s good work.

Photo credit: Sandlin Gaither

BGS 5+5: Nefesh Mountain

Posted on by Editor

Artist: Nefesh Mountain (Eric Lindberg and Doni Zasloff)
Hometown: Brooklyn, New York City (born & raised); Montclair, New Jersey (current locale)
Latest Album: Songs for the Sparrows

If you had to write a mission statement for your career, what would it be?

As a musician, there are times when you have to sit and write, practice and create music — this process can be so inward, so solitary and alone. But these quieter moments are also filled with their own kind of magic, the kind that personally sustains you and over time hopefully also helps define you as an artist. There are other times when you find yourself in this great shared musical community with friends, bandmates, mentors, and of course audiences and fans. In these moments, we get to experience it all together as a community. I love all of it, and this crazy cycle that we go through as artists — it’s a great question, the mission statement. And while we’ve never really thought of our career having a “mission” exactly, there is a word that comes to mind that for me applies to all aspects of our musical life, and that is inspiration. Doni and I both want to inspire new thought and ideas with our music, and hope that through song we’re able to depict a better world than the one we see sometimes these days. But inspiration also flows in all directions, and we can feel it from an audience just as easily as they can feel it from us, which is such an encouraging thought. Ultimately for me, I think it’s the drive to inspire and be inspired that fuels a song, improvisation, lyric, or melody, and I’d consider us so lucky just to continue to keep receiving, and giving inspiration back and forth throughout our career… I guess you could say invent, inspire, repeat! — Eric Lindberg

Which artist has influenced you the most … and how?

For me it’s sometimes hard to separate music from life, and vice versa — and when asked this question, I always seem to come back to the artists that’ve shaped me over the years, especially at pivotal moments in my life. As a child, I remember being obsessed with the songs on “Free To Be You And Me.” The songs, messages, and humor on this album opened up a whole new world of inspiration for me at the time. We still listen to it with our kids today! Being a strong woman in the musical world is something that is just so important to me, and in part this is thanks to my next phase of musical influences: Joni Mitchell, Carole King, Carly Simon, Dolly Parton, Emmylou Harris, and Joan Baez. For me, I came to a lot of bluegrass and old-time musical forms by way of these artists, tracing backwards from them and finding this amazing and wide world of Americana music like the Carter Family, Ola Belle Reed, Doc Watson, and so many others. Today, I’m also beyond proud that both my and Eric’s biggest bluegrass influences have become dear friends and collaborators on our albums: Jerry Douglas, Sam Bush, John Doyle, Bryan Sutton, David Grier, and Mark Schatz among others, have all had such a deep influence on our music, and we’re so grateful for it. — Doni Zasloff

This is such a hard one. There are so many people who have been heroes and “north stars” in my musical life over the years, yet there are two names that always seem to jump to mind when I get asked this question: Pat Metheny and Béla Fleck. I think that I’ve always been drawn to artists who are able to portray their own world on their own terms, and Pat and Béla have done this time and time again, not only defining their sound as composers and improvisers, but all while truly pushing the boundaries of their instruments as well — guitar and banjo, respectively. I also learned early on through them, as well as others like Miles Davis, Bill Monroe, Bill Frisell and more, the importance of composing your own music, and that has been a huge influence on me as it relates to Nefesh Mountain. When I think of Pat and Béla’s music, I actually think of their compositions first. Pat’s “Question and Answer,” “Bright Size Life,” “Farmer’s Trust,” “Letter From Home,” “Last Train Home” and Béla’s “Spanish Point,” “Whitewater,” “Big Country,” “See Rock City,” “Up and Running” to name a few, have all been huge inspirations for me. I’ve learned so much from listening to these two over the years, and not all of it has been exactly music-related. They both always seem to take risks, break rules, and push forward with an inner drive that is just so inspiring to me, and they’ve help pave this musical road out there for other folks, like us perhaps, who also want to build their own world and story on their own terms. — EL

(L-R): Alan Grubner, Eric Lindberg, Doni Zasloff, Max Johnson, David Goldenberg

What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?

We’ve had so many incredible moments over the years, and one that always comes to mind for me was a number of years back at one of our first IBMA Wide Open Bluegrass festivals in Raleigh, NC. Our music, especially in a more traditionally bluegrass environment like IBMA, can be a bit different, to say the least. We were playing the 5:00 pm spot at the Capitol Stage, right in the center of the city, about to play a set that we knew had a few songs with Hebrew in them. I remember standing backstage looking out at a few thousand people at least, and just being terrified, scared that we would not be accepted for who we are. If you’ve never been, Wide Open Bluegrass is kind of a festival meets street fair. There are no tickets, and for these few days, about a million or so people in Raleigh come out to see some of the best bluegrass music around. So I’m looking out at this crowd that is growing by the second — and in my mind just assumed that they would all leave once they heard a lyric in Hebrew. But in the blink of an eye, I feel Eric come up next to me, grab my hand, and whisk me onto the stage — and less than 60 seconds later we were into our first song. I can barely remember any of the music from that particular performance, but what I do remember are the faces in the crowd… the smiles, the applause, the tears, the joy, the hope, and the rapidly growing numbers of people! When we got to our last song the crowd had more than tripled in size and we received our first standing ovation from the city of Raleigh, NC. It was a show and feeling I’d never forget. Of course, we’d played countless shows before and after that one, but there was a different sense of unknowing that day, of a deeper unknown, and felt like a trust fall between us and all the folks in that crowd who overwhelmingly all reached and caught us! – DZ

What other art forms — literature, film, dance, painting, etc — inform your music?

I think about this a lot, actually. I’m always curious about this connection between music, film, dance, literature and sometimes art as well — that all of it takes place, unfolds, and exists over time. A song, album, TV show, movie or book all have a specific and unique length, and I love that it’s our job as creators to ultimately tell a story within the parameters of our own medium. Our newest album, Songs for the Sparrows, is for me our most “cinematic” yet, in that we really wanted the album as a whole to take on the dramatic flow and characteristics of a film. We took a lot of time to write themes and motifs for this album, both melodically and lyrically, that would weave in and out of the songs. For us, these are our “characters” — the different voices and melodies that make appearances throughout. We also wanted a clear and definite beginning, middle, and end to the album, but overall really wanted it to feel like one story and one experience. I think the most exciting part of attempting to make music in this “cinematic” way is that it forces me to think more visually about the songs… to really focus on the images that we’re striving to create with all these beautiful acoustic instruments. There is a piece on the record called “Suite for a Golden Butterfly,” and for this one, Doni and I actually sat down and wrote out a detailed narrative before even a note of music was written. The music to all five movements came from this story that we wrote together about a Jewish family from Eastern Europe who flees to America to escape the Nazis, and for us it was such an exciting way to collaborate — each putting our own visuals, thoughts, and ideas into the music. — EL

Which elements of nature do you spend the most time with and how do those impact your work?

The natural world has had a profound influence on our music and lyrics over the years, and as songwriters and composers, we are always looking for ways to convey feelings, stories, and emotions that will resonate, both with ourselves and the listener. We all in one way or another have such a strong relationship with the world around us, and we often lean on this shared “common ground” in our songs, and really love telling our story through the lens of these universal images of rivers, canyons, forests, fields, and of course mountains! One of the great gifts of being a touring musician is having the chance to see the world. When I sit at home at my desk to write or compose a new piece, my mind will often wander on its own, referencing images of the mountains of Colorado, the coasts of Maine, the California sun, the peaks in Switzerland, the hills and valleys in Ireland. It’s a bit abstract and hard to measure, but for me, these elements of nature and personal memories come out in our work all the time — sometimes in an intended lyric or melody, and sometimes in just a few notes of an improvised solo. — EL

We’re always looking for connections in our music… ways of telling our story and how we see the world while bridging bluegrass music with our heritage as Jewish Americans. One common thread that beautifully runs through Americana music and Jewish tradition is the undeniable reverence shown for our natural world, and that connection is so encouraging for me! We so often only look at our differences these days — our backgrounds, skin color, religion, gender, or even musical genre — but over the years of traveling and making music, I’ve found that we can just as easily look at all the things that connect us, that we have in common. Strangely enough, it’s a choice that we can make every day, and it gives me comfort to know that despite our differences we’re all “Somewhere on This Mountain” all at once, all looking up at the same trees, clouds, and sky every day. — DZ

Photo credit: Lawrence Rickford