Tag: Mac Wiseman

“Not Easy Shoes to Fill” – Russell Moore Gets the Gig of a Lifetime: Alison Krauss & Union Station

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Russell Moore has been a professional musician and bandleader for 40 years and, though he wouldn’t describe himself as complacent, he does readily admit he generally knows what he can expect from that job.

“It’s almost like, ‘Okay, I know what this week is going to bring and what next week is going to bring,’” he shares over the phone. “It’s the same thing, even though you try to explore different opportunities … I never would have thought that at this point in my career that this opportunity would arise.”

Back in early December 2024, Alison Krauss & Union Station announced their first headline tour in nearly ten years and, with that announcement, that Moore himself would be joining the band. The bluegrass community responded with an outpouring of love for Moore, his talent, and his iconic, long-running bluegrass band IIIrd Tyme Out while marveling at how perfectly he and his voice would fit into one of the most prominent, best-loved, and best-selling string bands in music history.

Once fears of IIIrd Tyme Out being benched were totally allayed – the band has lasted 34 years so far and has no plans to curtail their efforts with Moore’s new gig – the ‘grass community set their sights on the next announcement from AKUS, which came in January: Arcadia, their first album since 2011’s Paper Airplane, will release March 28.

Arcadia will be the starting pistol for a breakneck six-month tour that will find Alison Krauss & Union Station (and their newest member, Moore) criss-crossing the continent to perform at some of the most notable venues and festivals in the scene. Many of which Moore will find himself checking off his bucket list for the very first time.

To mark the occasion, and as we anxiously count down the weeks to Arcadia and the Arcadia Tour, we sat down with Russell Moore to chat about his career, his plans for IIIrd Tyme Out, and how energized and excited he is by this once-in-a-lifetime chance. As he puts it, he has very big shoes to fill – but perhaps he is the only one concerned about having the chops to fill them.

You’ve been leading your own band for so long and you’ve been the person to “make the call” – hiring a sideman, or hiring someone to fill in, or finding a new band member. So how does it feel at this stage in your career to get this kind of call to join a band like Allison Krauss & Union Station? How does it feel to be on the receiving end for a change?

Russell Moore: What a blessing. It’s definitely the other side of the fence! For 34 years I’ve been running IIIrd Tyme Out and making the decisions or helping make the decisions. That’s a job in itself. You wear many different hats when you’re doing that.

The last time that I was in a situation like I’m going into with AKUS was back when I was with Doyle Lawson & Quicksilver. That was basically, “I’m the guy that plays guitar and I sing” and everything else was pretty much taken care of. Since then, up ‘til now with IIIrd Tyme Out, I’ve been heavily involved with all the decisions and making things happen, which like I said, it requires several different hats to wear day-in and day-out.

This is going back to that time, before IIIrd Tyme Out. And I’m excited about it. It really gives me the opportunity to focus totally on the music and my part in the band, rather than anything else that goes along with running a band. That’s exciting in itself. I will say, it’s going to take some getting used to, because I know that I’m going to be saying, “Oh, what can I do today to help this thing out?” That’s going to be a change of pace for me!

But I’m looking forward to it. Honestly, I’m looking forward to not having to worry about anything else other than my position in AKUS and just doing my job to the best of my ability and that’s it. That’s gonna be pretty cool. I guess you would say a little weight off of my shoulders.

You can set down the CEO hat and pick up the “being an instrumentalist and a vocalist and a technician” hat. Of course it’s got to feel exciting in some ways to get to step back into that role of being an equal part collaborator in a band instead of having to wear so many hats and having to be a lightning rod for everything.

RM: It is. It definitely is. I did experience just a little bit of this a few years ago. Jerry Douglas called and asked if I could go out for a few days with the Earls of Leicester, which I did and it was the same thing. I played mandolin and I sang my harmony parts with Shawn [Camp]. And I didn’t have to do anything else. That was all I had to do. For a few days there, I got to relieve myself of all the responsibilities of running a touring band on the road, and it was cool. I enjoyed it. I really did.

I’m not going to lie, I’m not saying that I don’t enjoy running a band, I’m not saying that whatsoever! But it was nice to step back for a few days and just be that. So I see this, for the six months between April and September, being sort of in the same picture. I wanna focus everything I can, all the time I’ve got, on playing the music, being in the position that I’m in, and doing the best I can. Just focusing on that. That’s going to be cool. I’m not going to have to worry about, “Did the bus get there on time? Is there something wrong with the bus?”

I know I’m not the only one who was super excited to hear this news and also thought immediately, “I never would have connected these dots myself, but who else has a better voice for that gig?” You think of Dan Tyminski, of Adam Steffey, the guys who have been singing vocals in this band, they have that sort of warm, honeyed, Mac Wiseman-like bluegrass voice – less of the high lonesome and piercing, even though you have the range and you can get up there, too.

So many people’s reaction to the announcement was that you have a voice that’s perfect for this gig and for what we all come to expect as the AKUS sound. Did you have that realization too? Did you think, “Oh yeah, this is perfect for my voice”? Or did you feel like, “I’m going to have to work at this.”

What was your general reaction, musically, to coming into this? Not just as a guitarist, but also as a vocalist – and then, I assume you’ll be playing some mandolin too, like you said you were doing with Earls of Leicester. So how are you approaching it musically?

RM: I will be playing a little bit of mandolin, not a whole lot, but my main gig I guess you’d say would be playing guitar and vocals – harmony vocals and some lead vocals as well. I’ll be honest with you, Justin, I was concerned about some of the harmony singing. That’s the biggest thing.

It’s really intricate.

RM: It is very intricate! It’s not in the same breath that I usually sing at. I tend to sing very full throated. For lack of a better term, it’s a male voice trying to sing very high. I do it in a robust way. I do have subtleties that I use as well, but this application of trying to blend with Alison’s voice is a different place to be, for me, for sure.

I do sing harmony and I have for years, here and there, but still my vocal technique has always been full throated and far more harsh, a male vocalist trying to sing very high. This is a different application. I tried to do that on all the songs that I’m going to be singing harmony on with Alison, it would be too abrasive. I’m learning how to make it work with my voice and her voice. That is a really nice combination, [you don’t want] me standing out because of my approach to the harmony.

Of course, I do have songs that I’ll be singing lead on. Those, I’m just back to my old self doing my thing. But when it comes to the harmony stuff, most of the time I’m having to really listen and focus on how to project my voice to make her sound as best as she can and not interfere.

Are you going to be singing lead on some of your own music with AKUS?

RM: No. There might be one song, and I’m not going to give away any of the stuff that she has planned for the set list, but there might be one song that people recognize from IIIrd Tyme Out during the performance. For the most part, this is Union Station. We’re not trying to bring in Russell Moore and IIIrd Tyme Out into the project whatsoever. We’re still around, we’re going to be performing when I’m not on the road with AKUS. There might be a small ode to IIIrd Tyme Out during the show, but it will be very small.

I’m not here to promote IIIrd Tyme Out with Alison Krauss. I’m here to promote Alison Krauss & Union Station and to be a part of that group and promote what this record release is and the stage show. I am a team player and I told them all, “You’ll never find anybody that’s more of a team player than I am, because I understand what that means.”

You’ve seen it on both sides. I’m glad you mentioned IIIrd Tyme Out continuing, because I think a lot of people’s natural reaction to the news was, “What about IIIrd Tyme Out!?” Of course IIIrd Tyme Out’s been going for so long, they’re gonna keep going.

RM: IIIrd Tyme Out is here to stay. When the conversations started about my being a part of Union Station going forward, I had a lot of questions. Can I do this? Should I do this? And that was one of them: “Will my band support me in this decision, or if I say yes, will they support me?”

[I consulted] my family, my wife, and everybody around me – it wasn’t a decision that was made quickly. I had to talk to people. Once I talked to my band members and I got their total support and thumbs-up affirmation – along with my wife, family, and friends – it was just like, “Okay, I have no reason not to do this. Everybody says I should and it’s a great opportunity.” At that point, I said yes.

Hopefully I can fulfill the position, because it’s not easy shoes to fill. I can tell you that right now I’m a huge Dan Tyminski fan. I have been since he came onto the scene way back – we’re talking Lonesome River Band days. He is so unique and his position with Union Station, until recently with his own band, that was the epitome of his career in my opinion.

Then, of course, he gets the head nod for Oh Brother, Where Art Thou? And the Stanley Brothers song, “Man of Constant Sorrow,” it’s still incorporated into his shows. I love the Stanley Brothers’ [version of the] song. I really do. But when I think about that song, I think about Dan Tyminski.

I guess the point is I’m a huge fan of Dan and his work. He is such an intricate part of what Union Station has been up to now. I think that those are big shoes to fill. I just hope I can facilitate that to everybody’s liking. I know there’s going to be some people that say, “No, it’s not Dan, it’s just not the same.” But I do want to say there are [many] eras of Union Station that were awesome, as well. You go back to when other people were in the group. Adam Steffey–

I’m partial to the Alison Brown era, too.

RM: Alison Brown! Oh, gosh, yes. Tim Stafford along that same time. I can’t say there’s been a bad ensemble for AKUS. It’s just evolved. And the fact that Dan was there for so long, that kind of solidifies that is the sound that most people – especially younger people who didn’t really start listening to AKUS until let’s say 20 years ago – are hearing. What they’re hearing is Dan Tyminski on guitar, singing harmony, and singing lead. That’s what they’re used to. That’s what they realize is AKUS music, and here’s this Texas guy coming in here trying to fill those shoes. I just hope I can satisfy everybody. I’ll do the best I can.

Alison Krauss & Union Station shot by Randee St. Nicholas with Russell Moore second from right.

It’s gotta feel exciting, especially after having done something like this your whole entire life, to have that sort of childlike wonder at it feeling so brand new and so fresh. Even after you have done literally exactly this for so long, there are still things that you’re excited to accomplish and new territory you’re excited to explore. That sounds really energizing and really positive.

RM: It is energizing. I’ll be honest, Justin, I’ve been playing music full time for a good 40 years. That’s awesome. And at this point, after 34 years of IIIrd Tyme Out – I’m not going to say I’ve become complacent, but it’s almost like, “Okay, I know what this week is going to bring and what next week is going to bring.” It’s the same thing, even though you try to explore different opportunities and things that come within that.

But this, I never would have thought that at this point in my career that this opportunity would arise and I’d get to do something like this. Because, like I said, I’m not so much complacent, but I know what’s ahead. When the phone call was made and we talked, I had no idea that I had another option, another fork in the road. This is absolutely surreal, in a lot of ways, for me to get this opportunity and without giving up IIIrd Tyme Out. All the support from everybody that I know, like I said, there was no reason to say no.

Another part of this that I’m really excited about [is being] able to experience some of these places, these venues, these shows that I’ve never been to before. Just being able to experience it – like playing Red Rocks Amphitheatre – and just so many places that I’ve always wanted to go to and perform at. I’m going to get to do that!

Checking them off the bucket list.

RM: There you go. It wouldn’t be possible, I don’t believe, with IIIrd Tyme Out. I was always exploring new opportunities and things like that, but I don’t think it would have been possible to perform at some of these places without being a part of AKUS.

To me, “Looks Like the End of the Road,” the first single from the upcoming album, feels like classic AKUS. The So Long, So Wrong era is what it reminded me of first. You still have those tinges of adult contemporary, you have the pads and the synth-y sound bed underneath it, and it almost feels transatlantic a bit here and there. Overall, it sounds like classic, iconic Allison Krauss & Union Station. What are your thoughts or feelings on the single or what can you tell us about that first track?

RM: I think that the song is a great representation of what is coming out with the full album release, Arcadia. It is a great nod to Alison Krauss & Union Station music over the last several years and the last several recordings.

I think that the song itself is just well written and perfect for Alison to sing. There’s a small part of harmony vocals – and what I love about the way she constructs her arrangements is that it’s not overdone with harmonies. This is Alison Krauss & Union Station, it’s not just Union Station. So the focus is on Alison and her vocals. In my opinion, that’s the way it should be. This song doesn’t come out from the get go with a five-string banjo just blasting off. It’s a great construction of the arrangement and the vocals.I think it was perfect.

The only thing that people have said is that the title itself made them think that this was the end of Allison Krauss & Union Station! Which is so far detached from the truth. It was just the first single that was released. It’s a beautifully constructed song.
I will say, this song is just a piece of the puzzle to the rest of the recording. It just paints a beautiful picture and a wonderful listening experience. When people get to hear the full album, they’ll understand what I’m talking about. It’s just awesome. It’s just, it’s a piece of the puzzle.

You’re going to be blown away. Absolutely blown away, as I was. I had my headphones on. I can’t tell you how many nights before I’d go to sleep, I’d have my headphones on [listening]. I listened to it two, three times a night, just because it was so enjoyable. It was just that good. I know that everybody else is gonna feel the same way when they hear the whole project.

Photo Credit: Matt Morrison

Bluegrass & Roots Songs to Strike To

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Hot. Strike. Summer!!

It was just announced that hundreds of thousands of Teamsters driving for shipping and logistics company UPS will avert a strike after their negotiations came through, but even so, dozens of strike authorization votes are happening all across the U.S. as workers the world over watch WGA and SAG-AFTRA strikes, Amazon and Starbucks unionization drives, and smaller pickets like that at dinner theater Medieval Times. Union membership and public opinions toward unions are at highs not seen since the ’60s, and millennial and Gen-Z workers are joining unions, striking, and picketing at astronomical rates.

It’s important to remember that, although bluegrass in its modern iteration can often feel staunchly conservative, militantly patriotic, and delusionally nostalgic for “old-fashioned values,” it’s a genre that was born from the creativity of working class and impoverished Southerners, Appalachians, and immigrants – and it has always had a pro-worker, leftward bent. Singers, pickers, songwriters, and performers like Hazel Dickens, Ola Belle Reed, the Country Gentlemen, the Johnson Mountain Boys, Mac Wiseman, Earl Scruggs, and so many more were ardent supporters of the working class and hostile towards corporations, mines, and management. There are truly countless, never ending pro-worker, pro-labor songs to choose from in the bluegrass, old-time, and roots-music canon.

Bluegrass and old-time music, though entangled in a dense constellation of roots music and occupying space adjacent to folk music and the folk revival, were anti-corporate greed since before they had names, before Pete Seeger, before the folk revival itself. That legacy is important to place at the very center of bluegrass, a genre of music that was born out of industrialization (see also: Industrial Strength Bluegrass) as mountain folk, Appalachians, and Southerners migrated out of their rural homeplaces to urban industrial centers. Bluegrass was born from radio stations, railroads, from company towns and workers’ barracks. Whether rubber or auto plants in Ohio and Michigan, factories in Chicago, cotton mills and tobacco warehouses in North Carolina, or anywhere else in the region, as poor folks bled out of their ancestral homes to find work and upward mobility, they brought their music and their community mindsets. As bell hooks puts it in Belonging: A Culture of Place, the mountains and rural spaces are where mutual aid and anarchy are concrete, everyday practices, not just philosophies or concepts.

With those people and their music came a penchant for workers’ and labor rights, suspicion of management and company stores and towns, and a vehement, righteous anger at the injustices suffered by working class Southerners no matter where they migrated. It’s easy to find pro-Union songs, songs in support of workers’ health and agency, lyrics that espouse conservation and environmentalism in old-time, bluegrass, and string-band traditions. So easy, in fact, we quickly amassed a 4+ hour playlist featuring some of our favorite songs (bluegrass and beyond) for marching the picket line, raising a fist, and redistributing the power – and wealth – back to the world’s 99%.

Scroll to find the full playlist of Bluegrass & Roots Songs to Strike To. Below, enjoy a few selections from the list.

“In Tall Buildings” – John Hartford

John Hartford describes the doldrums of daily work as almost no one else can. (John Prine gets close with, “How the hell can a person/ Go to work in the mornin’/ And come home in the evenin’/ And have nothing to say?”) At the end of our 30-some years working, what will we have to show for ourselves besides a suit, haircut, and no more life left to give to our “retirement?” Plus, as any career musician can tell you, planning a life around retirement isn’t exactly a good option to begin with.

“Ain’t Gonna Work Tomorrow” – Wilma Lee Cooper

Ain’t gonna work tomorrow, cause it’s STRIKING day! Wilma Lee Cooper will, at long last, join the Bluegrass Music Hall of Fame this September. A bluegrass forebear who saw broad commercial success before the genre had a name or an understood identity, she regularly landed tracks with decidedly bluegrass aesthetics on Billboard‘s early country charts.

“Lazy John” – Bruce Molsky

Under capitalism, laziness is a radical act! Be like Lazy John! If you’re working all week in the noon-day sun just for 16 cents, yes, it’s strike time.

“Cotton Mill Man” – Jim & Jesse

As we remember the life and legacy of Jesse McReynolds, who recently passed, it’s striking that although he and his brother Jim performed largely cover songs and tracks written by others, they were still able to express with great subtlety their own points of view through the material they chose. Like “Cotton Mill Man” and Prine’s “Paradise,” which was a hit for the duo, their catalog of recorded and performed material is dense with class awareness.

“Black Waters” – Jean Ritchie

A truly timeless classic that remains as relevant today as in the time of its writing, as clean water protections across the U.S. have been repeatedly gutted since 2016 – and before. Our country continues to show where its priorities are, beating down protests and demonstrations even as popular and supported as Standing Rock, in order to force us to acquiesce and give up protection of our waters. The lyrical hook is even more poignant to someone, like myself, living in Tennessee Valley Authority territory in the Tennessee River Valley – where coal ash and pollutants are still regularly dumped into our waterways. These tales, these experiences, are best told directly from their sources, as in Ritchie singing this song.

“Carpal Tunnel” – Tristan Scroggins

One can find many a recording of “Carpal Tunnel” from across the years, but mandolinist Tristan Scroggins, in his mid-twenties, pointedly places this track in the present, delivering the lament in stark a capella accompanied only by body percussion. He deftly ties the lyric to embodiment and agency and reminds all of us – especially in an age governed by devices causing carpal tunnel writ large – we’re all merely one injury away from bankruptcy. Musicians know this fear intimately, as many a livelihood has been threatened by tendonitis and carpal tunnel.

“Tear Down the Fences” – Ola Belle Reed

A perfect encapsulation of solidarity across our differences – differences constructed by the ruling class to keep us quibbling amongst ourselves while they amass their wealth. This sort of community awareness often feels like a pure byproduct of the internet’s version of globalization, but even a woman banjo player from a tiny town in rural Western North Carolina understood that “all we have is each other,” way back before the worldwide web. It feels obvious to state. It shouldn’t seem remarkable, except that we’ve accepted the narrative that such compassion and ideas couldn’t possibly be born from rural spaces or the South.

“Blue Collar Blues” – Joe Mullins & the Radio Ramblers

From the shop steward of Industrial Strength Bluegrass himself, Joe Mullins, a classic working-man-blues-style bluegrass number about that paycheck to paycheck life. An all-too-common reality for so many pickers! Though that might be more accurately described as blueGRASS collar blues.

“Dark as a Dungeon” – The Country Gentlemen

Bluegrass mining songs are just as iconic in the bluegrass songbook as train songs, cheatin’ songs, murder ballads, and singing about moonshine. This version of “Dark as a Dungeon” by the Country Gentlemen is one of the best examples of the form – many of which made it onto our full playlist.

There are so many more bluegrass, old-time, string band, folk, and Americana songs for striking. Check out our full playlist below and let us know: What is your favorite pro-worker roots song?

Playlist selections by Justin Hiltner, Shelby Williamson, Jon Weisberger, and Amy Reitnouer Jacobs.

Photo Credit: By John Vachon in 1938. “Untitled photo, possibly related to picket line at the King Farm strike. Near Morrisville, Pennsylvania.” Courtesy of the Library of Congress.

Danny Paisley & Southern Grass Find a Family Blend on ‘Bluegrass Troubadour’

Posted on by Editor

After nearly 50 years in bluegrass, Danny Paisley has reached something of a breakout moment. He won Male Vocalist of the Year honors at the 2020 IBMA Bluegrass Music Awards — his second time in the past five years and his third IBMA trophy overall.

Paisley started performing bluegrass music as a teenager when he joined the Southern Mountain Boys, a band his father Bob co-founded with Ted Lundy. Lundy’s sons, TJ and Bobby, played in that group too, and now are in Southern Grass, the band Danny now leads. The lineup also features his son, Ryan, giving this traditional bluegrass group a unique two-family, three-generation legacy. Earlier this month, the band released Bluegrass Troubadour, their first album for Pinecastle Records. They recorded it last fall with producer Wes Easter, whom Paisley praises for his good ideas and good vibes, sharing that “after every session we were just happy and couldn’t wait to go back the next day.”

Speaking to BGS from his home in Landenberg, the southeastern Pennsylvania town where the singer-guitarist grew up, Paisley talks about how his not-strictly-traditional sound was shaped by that area’s rich musical history and how the new generation is rethinkng bluegrass.

BGS: You’ve been a bluegrass professional almost your entire life. When did you join your father’s band?

Paisley: I started playing with my father and traveling the rooms around 1974-75. Ted Lundy and my dad had a band for years. Ted’s sons, TJ and Bobby, started playing and I started playing, so we became a family group within the two families. Totally like a big family. Their mom is like my mom. And they call my mom “mom.” We grew up together. Basically all our lives we’ve been playing music together. That pretty much carried all the way through, because the Lundy brothers are back playing with me.

How was it being in a band where your dad was the boss?

Sometimes I would say to my dad, “I have this great idea.” Ever patient as he was, he always knew how to handle every situation. He’d always look at you and go: “That’s great, that’s great, when you get your own band you can try that.” To this day, I laugh about that. And I use that, too, on my son.

Now you have a similar situation with your son Ryan in Southern Grass. Does he bring a different generational perspective?

He wants to do more things [with technology], where I’m still old school and like to do things my way. He has good ideas and it makes me have to rethink… Young minds are sometimes way better than old minds. It’s hard for the younger generation today — for the third generation of bluegrassers to relate to the “Blue Ridge Cabin Home on the Hill.” They love the song, but not that theme of the cabin on the hill and things like that from the old days. I have heard of that from my grandparents. Now with the next generation, it is washed down even more.

The area where you grew up seems to have been a great musical influence.

I was very lucky. I grew up in a place here where there was a country music park, Sunset Park. On Sundays, they would have a major country or bluegrass artist… Bill Monroe, Mac Wiseman, Osborne Brothers… I got to see all of my heroes within five miles of my house. Down the road about 15-20 miles was another park called New River Ranch. It had the Stanley Brothers, Jim & Jesse, Reno & Smiley. Any given Sunday within 20 miles, you could go somewhere and hear some incredible music.

When I was very young, Flatt & Scruggs came and everyone was there to see Earl Scruggs. He was god to every banjo player and rightfully so. I remember that day leaving with this impression of Lester Flatt — just how calm he was and how he talked from the stage. He was in control of the whole thing so easily. … Del McCoury lived the next county over from me, so we often played shows with him. I loved his rhythm guitar playing and his voice. He could play that rhythm guitar and keep that band in time – he’d drive that band with that guitar. There was nothing like hearing him live.

Your music has been associated with “Baltimore Barroom Bluegrass” What was that scene like?

When I got older, there were all these bars and clubs in Baltimore, which is about 30 miles from home. I ended up playing in these clubs, four or five nights a week… you’d played from 9 p.m. to 2 a.m., sometimes four or five sets. You got your chops in. You had a broad repertoire and you were playing to people who knew the music because Baltimore became a hub for Southerners who moved up from Virginia, West Virginia, and Kentucky for work. They were hard-living, hard-drinking, and hard-driving bluegrass fans. There’d be fights. There’d be carrying on, but boy you could have fun!

And another regional musical influence on you was the Galax sound, right?

Galax is a town in southern Virginia, on the state line of North Carolina and Virginia, and the Old Fiddlers Convention there draws thousands from all over the world. The Galax sound features a lot of fiddle — maybe not your standard bluegrass fiddle tunes, but a lot of different fiddle tunes that made their way into bluegrass music. …

Their banjo players had a certain sound to their playing. Ted Lundy had it. He came from Galax and my dad’s family came from over the state line in Ashe County, North Carolina. So naturally they would be drawn together when they got up here. Ola Belle Reed, who wrote “High on a Mountain,” lived a few miles from where I’m at here. She was from that same region. The driving banjo — there is a certain style in their hands and in their noting. You can tell they are from the Galax area. I play [guitar] with a thumb pick where a lot of the bluegrass guys play with a flat pick. That was from my dad also.

So Southern Grass’ driving rhythms are like a handed-down legacy?

Yes, of that area and of our fathers. We keep the rhythm sort of pumping, but you’ve got to play to each song. We’ll work the song. As the singer eases off singing, the rhythm will pull back, too, and then you can build back up. We do a lot of stuff like that dynamic. That’s what I like about my style of music, knowing and feeling the song.

Bobby Lundy used to play the banjo in the band and decided he needed some time off. When he said he was able to play, I needed a bass player. I call him my utility man of bluegrass, like he could play any position on a baseball team — he’s that talented. Because he has known me for so long, he knows what I am going to do on a guitar. He knows what I am going to do singing. He can walk me right into the singing with his bass. He can lead me right into the voice. He can just push the band and keep that timing from not going too fast or too slow. He can just keep it rock steady.

How did you pick songs for your new album?

Two of them [“He Can’t Own Them” and “I Never Was Too Much”] were written by Eric Gibson of the Gibson Brothers. He’s always one of my favorite writers. He sent a gang of songs he had not recorded. Every one of them was a great song. Those were the two that fit my style. Brink Brinkman — another excellent bluegrass songwriter — told me, “I have a song that I’d like you to hear.” As soon as I heard it [“Date With an Angel”], I wrote back: “I want it!”

“May I Sleep in Your Barn, Mister,” I learned from a guy named Cullen Galyean, a banjo picker and a great mountain singer from down in the Galax, Virginia, area. “Eat at the Welcome Table” is an old-timey spiritual song. When my dad moved up here to Pennsylvania, his neighbors were an African-American farming family. They had an old-timey string band and played gospel songs. They would sing that song. We put our own spin on it.

The album has an interesting mix of songs that come from different styles and influences.

That’s how music generally works for me. I love it all, and then I make it my own. My band is rooted in traditional music and traditional ways, but that shouldn’t hamper or restrict you. So, I keep my ears open to all kinds of things. You can sometimes take an idea from a non-bluegrass artist and use it in bluegrass.

It’s that way with my singing. I listen to everything from George Jones, Jerry Lee Lewis and Vince Gill to opera singers like Pavarotti – these guys all amaze me. How they control their voice and present it with such tone. For me that was lacking in my singing and I had to work at that… I learned to sing a little different as I got older – to take the edge off the high tenor part a bit. Things like that, and I noticed that people were responding better.

Congratulations on winning your second IBMA Male Vocalist of the Year win. Was the victory sweeter the second time around?

The first time I was so shocked. Any category when you are up there with Russell Moore, Del McCoury — all these guys that I enjoy. You’re shocked that people would appreciate what you do. The second time, it was like, “Oh my goodness.” It didn’t really set in until the next day or so. I love to go out and play to make people happy. I never thought of being something like Male Vocalist of the Year. It’s always the dream for everybody. It’s always a dream to play the Grand Ole Opry, but you’ve got to keep it realistic. A life lesson early on that I got from my dad: never get to where you think you’re better than anybody else. Because as soon as you do that, you’ll realize that you’re not.

Photo of Danny Paisley and Ryan Paisley courtesy of Pinecastle Records.

MIXTAPE: The Barefoot Movement’s Holiday Favorites

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To get an idea of how much I love Christmas music, I’ll start with a series of questions. Do I have nearly 700 Christmas songs on my iPod? Why, yes I do! Did I scroll through every one of them in search of ideas for this playlist? I sure did! And did I start with about 75 songs, which I had an incredibly hard time whittling down to a mere 14? Yes, yes I did — I take this playlist business quite seriously. Also, on an unrelated note, do I actually still use an iPod classic? You betcha!

As you can plainly see, I love holiday music. At any other time in the year I might weary of hearing 100 versions of the same song. But at Christmas, anything goes. If a band I love has a holiday album, I’m most definitely buying it. In high school — these were pre-Spotify days mind you — I curated my own “playlists” and grouped them into categories like “Christmas Classics,” “Rockin’ Christmas,” and “R&B/Soul” and burned them onto CDs. Every year I would add more songs ’til eventually, they outgrew the CD format!

So I relished the opportunity to put together this specially curated Mixtape for the Sitch. I tried to stay away from the classic category, even though I love “Jingle Bell Rock” and “Rocking Around the Christmas Tree” as much as the next person. My taste in music is very personal to me, so with every song comes a little story.

I understand that Christmas music is not for everyone. Even some folks who like it in small doses might tire of hearing the same songs year after year. But for me, these annual celebrations — whether Christmas, Halloween, or National Donut Day — give us something to look forward to when the constant toiling of life wears us down. And that is a good and worthy thing, especially in a year when so many joyful things have been canceled. I hope you enjoy this collection and that you’ll get some real enjoyment out of these great songs! Happy listening! — Noah Wall, The Barefoot Movement

Doc Watson, Del McCoury, and Mac Wiseman – “Christmas Time’s A Comin’”

Something about the combination of Doc Watson’s immediately recognizable guitar playing and Del McCoury’s high lonesome tenor, not to mention the great Mac Wiseman (who I just learned was a co-founder of the Country Music Association, who knew?!), transports me directly to a living-room, after-dinner, holiday pickin’ party. This may be the quintessential bluegrass Christmas song and this is my all-time favorite version. I love it so much, it makes me want to learn to flatfoot.

Red Clay Ramblers – “One Rose/Hot Buttered Rum”

The Red Clay Ramblers are a North Carolina-based Americana band who have been making wonderful music since the 1970s. I first heard this song on our local NPR affiliate radio station’s weekend folk show, “Back Porch Music.” I was introduced to many bands on that fabulous little program that is still airing today, from legends like Doc Watson to then-up-and-comers Nickel Creek. It’s been an honor to hear my own music played on there amongst them.

Just once in my life, I’d love to write some lyrics half as good as these, which so beautifully capture the gloom of a wet, cold, melancholy Carolina winter, when even sparkling lights and greenery seem colorless and out of place. Ultimately, it’s a love song, an ode to the ones who keep us warm, no matter the weather. “When dreary Christmas decorations line the streets and filling stations and dime store Santas can’t disguise their empty hands and empty eyes… In the dead of winter, when the tinsel angels come, you’re my sweet maple sugar, honey, hot buttered rum.”

Sufjan Stevens – “That Was the Worst Christmas Ever!”

I am a huge fan of Sufjan Stevens and his wildly imaginative, fearlessly quirky music. I gave his first collection of holiday songs as a Christmas gift to Tommy Norris, our mandolinist and my now-husband, back when we were first dating. It’s since become a staple of our seasonal collection. This song in particular strongly resonated with me, as I can recall moments in my childhood that mirror the lyrics. For many, family relations around the holidays are tense and somewhat less than “holly jolly.” I think that’s okay — holidays can be stressful, and no one is perfect. This Sufjan song offers anyone who has been on the giving OR receiving end of some righteous seasonal stress a lovely cathartic release. Other favorites from this collection are “Only at Christmas Time” and “Hey Guys! It’s Christmas Time!”

Ralph Stanley – “Christmas Is Near”

Ralph wrote this downhome delight himself and originally recorded it with his brother Carter in 1958. This newer version is unabashedly country and I love everything about it. It’s as pure as freshly fallen snow! While some of the songs on my list might highlight the somber side of the season, this one is the exact opposite, with lyrics that round up all the good things that make the holidays special: family, joy, and love. It’s a magical time, if we are lucky enough to be able to focus on these things.

Pearl Jam – “Let Me Sleep (It’s Christmas Time)”

My “Rockin’ Christmas” playlist has all the classic holiday tracks from greats like John Lennon, Eagles, and Queen. It also includes this grunge-era gem. Picture, if you will, 4-year-old Noah, a card-carrying member of the Pearl Jam fan club with a wicked crush on Eddie Vedder. If I remember correctly, this song was on an exclusive vinyl single that was sent to members of said fan club, and I was one of them! It’s such a dreamy tune, and while a look at the lyrics today reveals deeper meaning, 4-year-old me related to the simple joy of taking a cozy nap on a cold day during Christmas vacation. And y’all, I still love naps. Especially Christmas naps. Because I feel like I earn them.

Duke Ellington – “Nutcracker Suite: Peanut Brittle Brigade (March)”

This is a pick from our bassist, Katie Blomarz. She began performing with us in 2015 and brought with her a background in jazz music that was cultivated by her musical family. In her own words, “For me, the Christmas spirit is amplified in jazz/big band arrangements. The Nutcracker Suite interpreted by Duke Ellington and Billy Strayhorn is the perfect harmony of a classical favorite by Tchaikovsky reimagined by a big band for a modern flair. This album has been a special one for my family because my dad, brother and I all grew up playing in big bands, and in non-2020 years, my brother plays this record live every December! It is a swinging change of pace from the pop songs on any Christmas playlist!”

Laurie Lewis & Tom Rozum / Merle Haggard – “If We Make It Through December”

When I was fresh out of high school, I landed a job at a local country music radio station. Though our programming was your typical Top 40 and wasn’t even handled at the local level, we would still get CDs sent to us occasionally, the old school, indie marketing way. This is how I happened upon Laurie Lewis and Tom Rozum’s seasonal album, Winter’s Grace. Believe it or not, this was the first time I had ever heard of Laurie Lewis, and even harder to believe, it was the first time I had ever heard Merle Haggard’s wonderful song (I was only 18, so cut me some slack!) I was an immediate fan of both. The song tells such a relatable story. I am always inspired by the way a song can take a moment in time, no matter how insignificant in the long run, and immortalize it. It’s the perfect healing device that brings comfort and affirmation, even when that moment has long passed. You can’t find Laurie & Tom’s version on streaming services, so we’ll include Merle’s here.

The Jackson 5 – “Give Love on Christmas Day (Group A Cappella Version)”

My R&B Christmas playlists feature tracks by folks like Otis Redding, The Temptations, Stevie Wonder, and of course, the entire Jackson 5 Christmas album. This song is what it’s all about. Whether or not you are religious, the sentiment of spreading love is universal, and that very concept is what lies at the heart of Christmas. I love the original Jackson 5 recording, but this one, a special track from The Jackson 5’s Ultimate Christmas Collection, is stripped down to just the vocals. It goes from being a full-fledged, studio package, to an intimate, almost hymn-like family prayer, sung by an extremely talented group of brothers. The quality of their voices is so palpable and innocent, which lends to the sincerity of the message. “Out of the mouths of babes,” indeed.

Rogue Wave – “Christmas”

I love Rogue Wave so much! And I was today years old when I realized that this Christmas tune of theirs from an awesome collection, put together by their label, Brushfire Records, is a cover of a song by The Who from their rock opera, Tommy. I’ve seen it, but I completely forgot about the song. Rogue Wave’s version sparkles like sun reflecting on a snow covered hillside, peppered with sledders. Seriously, that’s exactly what I picture when I hear it.

The Judds – “Beautiful Star of Bethlehem”

One Christmas Eve, I was attending the annual service held at my great grandmother’s church. One of the performers they had scheduled to sing came down with something, and the other musicians asked me to fill in on this song. It went over so well, it turned into a tradition, and I came back and sang it every Christmas Eve for the next 15 years. Needless to say, it earned a very special place in my heart, especially after we lost my grandmother at age 96 back in 2018. Every time I hear this recording, I remember listening to it in my car in the parking lot, to remind myself which part to sing, and my precious grandmother, beaming with pride in the audience. This is another song that I would file under the label “quintessential bluegrass Christmas listening.” The Judds’ version is perfect, thus I have yet to record a version myself, as I can’t think of one thing I would do differently.

Bob & Doug McKenzie – “The Twelve Days of Christmas”

And now a fun one! One of my holiday playlists highlights things that fall into the humor category. The selections include songs like Porky Pig’s “Blue Christmas,” barking dogs singing “Jingle Bells,” and the parody of Black Sabbath’s Iron Man, “I Am Santa Claus.” I have about five spoofs of “The 12 Days of Christmas” because, well, it just lends itself so well to mockery! This one is my favorite. The characters Bob & Doug Mckenzie are fictional Canadian brothers, created and played by Rick Moranis and Dave Thomas on the sketch comedy show SCTV that aired during the ‘70s and ‘80s. I won’t say too much. You’ve probably heard it, but if you haven’t, you should. My favorite line: “Next year, get me a chainsaw.”

Track Dogs – “How Christmas Was Meant to Be”

We met the band Track Dogs at Folk Alliance International several years ago. I was walking by a hotel room showcase and the sound I heard from within made me turn around and go listen. Their typical instrumentation consists of guitar, trumpet, bass, and percussion, and they are made up of members from England, Ireland, and the US, yet the band came together and now resides in Spain. The fusion of all these elements yields something truly unique. Lead singer Garrett Wall, whom I must be distantly related to (at least I hope so) has one of my favorite voices in modern music. This song is eloquently penned, perfectly arranged, and beautifully recorded. A new Christmas favorite for me, to be sure.

The Seldom Scene – “Silent Night”

No autotune here folks, these guys are the real deal. The Seldom Scene is one of my all-time favorite bluegrass bands. When I was a preteen, and all I listened to was Limp Bizkit and Korn, I went through a phase where music like theirs was “too bluegrassy” for my taste. Then one day, I saw the light, thank God. They have such a signature sound, they were true innovators, with harmonies that stand alone in creativity, even today. This song in particular is the perfect example of why people buy Christmas albums. It’s simply pleasing to hear a band you love sing a familiar song, even one that has been recorded thousands of times and sung for centuries. Oh and by the way, I still love Korn and Limp Bizkit and have absolutely no shame in admitting this. If they had Christmas albums, I’d probably buy them.

Ryan Shupe & the Rubberband – “The Gift”

Ryan Shupe & the Rubberband are described as an American rock/bluegrass band on Wikipedia. The “rock/bluegrass” classification kind of makes me chuckle, but it’s true! Their style marries the two seemingly opposite genres of music. We shared a booking agent with the band for a while and we were able to play a few events with them. Every year when I hear this song, my sincere desire to spend my time on Earth doing good is renewed. It’s so hard to keep this ideal at the center of my attention, when the inevitable storms of life keep me constantly distracted and focused on myself, and my innate introversion pressures me into seclusion. But when I hear this song, it gives me the motivation I need to get back out there and try again, to seek to do better in every way I can, to be a friend, an ally, and a comfort to anyone in need. It’s a lofty aspiration, and I am just a work in progress, but this song gives me hope that I might one day find the strength to live up to it.

Photo credit: Workshop Media Co.

First Generation: Meet the Bluegrass Music Hall of Fame’s Earliest Inductees

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Though it’s not that hard to find some who will argue the point, bluegrass is widely held to have originated when banjo phenom Earl Scruggs joined Grand Ole Opry star Bill Monroe’s band in early December, 1945. Bill Monroe and His Blue Grass Boys — the possessive wasn’t just there for show — were already among the anchors of the radio show’s cast, but contemporary accounts (and a handful of bootleg recordings) make clear that, to the ears of an almost instantly enraptured audience, Scruggs’ rapid-fire banjo playing elevated the group’s sound to a new level.

Almost instantly, groups sprang up — or reoriented themselves — in pursuit of the new sound, and although banjo players and fiddlers were the most obvious converts, the truth is that virtually all of the intricacies the band brought to their sound were soon emulated. By the time Scruggs and guitarist/lead singer Lester Flatt left the Blue Grass Boys at the beginning of 1948, the quintet’s live performances and a handful of recordings had already inspired some notable followers, who, out of artistic desire and commercial necessity, quickly busied themselves in developing their own distinctive takes on the sound of the “original bluegrass band.”

As we near the 75th anniversary of this foundational origin story, BGS will be looking back across the sweep of those years — and first up, of course, a clutch of true pioneers that share a common accomplishment: they are the acts honored by induction into the IBMA’s Hall of Fame in its first five years and their plaques proudly hang at the Bluegrass Music Hall of Fame & Museum in Owensboro, Kentucky.

Bill Monroe (inducted 1991)

A complex personality with a skill set that included equal measures of innovation and synthesis, the mandolin-playing Monroe (b. 1911) moved from a mid-1930s duo with his brother to assembling a hot string band during World War II to fronting that original bluegrass band — an achievement which earned him his “Father of Bluegrass” title. Though it’s easy to discern the elements he brought together in that music — old fiddle tunes; Scotch-Irish ballads; African-American blues, jazz and gospel; western swing and more — his creativity extended beyond simply stirring them together and kept him a central figure from its inception until his death in 1996.

Indeed, while his early classics are essential to the bluegrass canon, even his late-life instrumental compositions have enjoyed a growing influence among today’s hottest young players. In fact, he collected his first Grammy for 1988’s “Southern Flavor.” Monroe was inducted into the Country Music Hall of Fame in 1970, and as the composer of “Blue Moon of Kentucky,” he joined the Nashville Songwriters Hall of Fame in 1971, received a Lifetime Achievement Award from the Grammys in 1993, and entered the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame as an early influence in 1997.

Representative tracks: “Blue Yodel No. 4,” “I’m Going Back to Old Kentucky,” “Lord Protect My Soul,” “Midnight on the Stormy Deep,” “Southern Flavor”

Earl Scruggs (inducted 1991)

Though he wasn’t yet 22 years old when he joined Monroe’s band at the end of 1945, Earl Scruggs (b. 1924) was ready to step into the spotlight, and, with the exception of a stretch of ill health in the late 1980s and early ‘90s, he never relinquished it until his death in 2012. Unlike many instrumentalists who change their approach according to musical context, Scruggs believed that his picking style — built around right-hand patterns called “rolls” — could fit anywhere, and after his groundbreaking years with Monroe and then Lester Flatt, his career seemed devoted to proving the point.

Having created much of the musical vocabulary for bluegrass banjo picking, he moved on to playing with his sons in the Earl Scruggs Revue, a country-rock-bluegrass fusion band that was arguably more successful — at least in commercial terms — than Flatt & Scruggs had ever been. In the 21st century, Scruggs championed a broad variety of younger musicians while continuing to play those same sweet rolls he’d created as a young man. He was awarded a Lifetime Achievement Award from the Grammys in 2008.

Representative tracks: “Blue Ridge Cabin Home” (Flatt & Scruggs), “Foggy Mountain Chimes” (Flatt & Scruggs), “Travelin’ Prayer” (Earl Scruggs Revue), “The Engineers Don’t Wave From the Trains Anymore” (with Tom T. Hall), “The Angels” (with Melissa Etheridge)

Lester Flatt (inducted 1991)

With an expressive, emotive voice and an impressive array of demeanors that ranged from dry and sly to devout and down-home, rhythm guitarist Lester Flatt (b. 1914) was the perfect musical complement to Earl Scruggs, and their 1948-1969 output was at least as influential as Monroe’s. Flatt & Scruggs won a 1968 Grammy for their classic recording of “Foggy Mountain Breakdown.”

But where Scruggs was not only interested in playing with his sons, but also interested in putting his banjo into a wider range of contexts, Flatt preferred sticking to the country side of bluegrass. In the aftermath of their breakup, Flatt’s drawl deepened and slowed as he presided over a series of gifted lineups that included peers like Josh Graves and Vassar Clements, alongside young up-and-comers from banjoist Kenny Ingram to a teenaged Marty Stuart. Flatt & Scruggs were inducted into the Country Music Hall of Fame in 1985.

Representative tracks: “I’ll Never Love Another” (Flatt & Scruggs), “I’ll Go Stepping Too” (Flatt & Scruggs), “On My Mind” (Flatt & Scruggs), “You Are My Flower” (Flatt & Scruggs), “Gonna Have Myself a Ball”

The Stanley Brothers (inducted 1992)

The career of Ralph Stanley (b. 1927) and Carter Stanley (b.1925) illustrates both the profound impact that the original bluegrass band had on their peers, as well as the complementary artistic and commercial drives that impelled those successors to create their own unique style. In their first recordings, made while Flatt and Scruggs were still Blue Grass Boys, you can hear the Virginia-born Stanley brothers revamp their old-time string band approach into an approximation of the pioneers’ sound, yet within a matter of months, they had found a compelling variant.

The Stanley sound was built in part around Ralph’s stolid but driving banjo and soulful tenor singing, but even more around Carter’s mournful lead vocals and powerful songs. Over the years, while they moved from the Nashville-based Columbia and Mercury labels to scrappy (and multi-racial) Cincinnati indie, King, their sound became even more recognizable, as owner Syd Nathan hectored them into de-emphasizing the fiddle and leaning more into the innovative work of flatpicking lead guitarists like George Shuffler. The brothers’ partnership came to an end in late 1966 with the early, alcohol-related death of Carter; Ralph would continue on with his own twist on the Stanley Brothers’ sound until his death in 2016.

Representative tracks: “The Lonesome River,” “Our Last Goodbye,” “Let Me Walk, Lord, By Your Side,” “I’ll Just Go Away,” “Pig in a Pen”

Reno & Smiley (inducted 1992)

The first banjo player to follow Scruggs, albeit briefly, in the Blue Grass Boys, Don Reno (b. 1926) deliberately sought to create a distinct and instantly recognizable style of his own on the instrument. By the time his partnership with singer-guitarist Red Smiley (b. 1925) had settled into regular recording for King Records in the early 1950s, he had succeeded completely, and for good measure had done the same with flatpicked guitar solos, too. As Grand Ole Opry announcer Eddie Stubbs once put it, Reno & Smiley were a country band with a banjo instead of a steel guitar.

Though Reno could and sometimes would blister a banjo solo, many of the band’s signature numbers were heart songs, country shuffles, earnest gospel outings and more, including occasional flashes of rockabilly and jazz. Reno wrote many of them, sang tenor and occasional leads, and shared the instrumental limelight with their steady fiddler, Mack Magaha, and occasionally with one or another mandolin player, including his son, Ronnie. The partners split for a few years in the mid-‘60s, then reunited for a brief period before Smiley’s death in 1972. Reno continued to record and perform with partners ranging from Bill Harrell to his sons until he passed away in 1984.

Representative tracks: “I’m Using My Bible for a Roadmap,” “I Know You’re Married,” “Little Rock Getaway,” “Please Remember That I Love You,” “Just About Then”

Jim & Jesse (inducted 1993)

Though Jim McReynolds (b. 1927) and Jesse McReynolds (b. 1929) were born just a few dozen miles from the Stanley Brothers, the music of Jim & Jesse could hardly have been a more different kind of bluegrass. The duo’s singing was smooth and refined — especially guitarist Jim’s silvery tenor — while the instrumental sound was driven by Jesse’s innovative mandolin cross-picking and their overall approach by the latter’s eclectic tastes and influences (he appeared, for instance, on The Doors’ 1969 album, The Soft Parade).

The brothers were comfortable in reaching for a more countrified sound, helped by banjo players like Allen Shelton and Carl Jackson, who were adept at playing radio-friendly licks on a dobro-banjo as well as ‘grassier fare when that was called for. Smart businessmen as well, the duo were among the first to appear on television in the early 1950s, recorded an entire album of Chuck Berry songs in the mid-1960s, started their own label in the early 1970s, and remained a popular fixture on the Grand Ole Opry until Jim’s death on the last day of 2002. As of this writing, Jesse McReynolds continues to perform — and to innovate, too, with releases like a 2010 Songs of the Grateful Dead collection.

Representative tracks: “Pardon Me,” “Are You Missing Me,” “She Left Me Standing on the Mountain,” “Cotton Mill Man,” “Memphis”

Mac Wiseman (inducted 1993)

Nicknamed “The Voice With a Heart,” Virginia’s Mac Wiseman (b. 1925) was a founding member of Flatt & Scruggs’ Foggy Mountain Boys in 1948, but soon left to join Monroe (and Don Reno) in the Blue Grass Boys. By the early 1950s, he’d started his own career, recording for Gallatin, Tennessee’s Dot Records — and then going to work for the label. A consummate professional, he also served as a musicians’ union official for a time, and was a founding member of the Country Music Association. He frequently recorded material other than bluegrass, especially when rock ’n’ roll and the pop-country Nashville sound beckoned in the late 1950s and early 1960s, and throughout his career, he was never afraid to use a variety of instruments besides the archetypal bluegrass ones.

Still, as a performer, bluegrass was his bread and butter from the mid-1960s on, and rather than carry a band, he would recruit players from other acts (and occasionally skilled amateurs, too) and lead them on stage with a heavy guitar strum and a quick “watch me, boys!” Wiseman’s songbook included old folk numbers, songs he heard on the radio as a polio-stricken child, big band tunes, Music Row compositions and much more. In later years, he recorded several memorable projects that highlighted songs his mother had taught him and songs that told his life story, before his death in 2019.

Representative tracks: “I Still Write Your Name in the Sand,” “I Wonder How the Old Folks Are at Home,” “Mother Knows Best,” “My Little Home in Tennessee,” “’Tis Sweet to Be Remembered”

The Osborne Brothers (inducted 1994)

Bobby Osborne (b. 1931) and Sonny Osborne (b. 1937) were among the first of what might be called “semi-second generation” bluegrass artists; unlike those who preceded them in the Bluegrass Hall of Fame, neither had performed professionally before 1950. By 1954, though, they’d hooked up with Jimmy Martin for a memorable set of recordings, and 1956 found them signed on to MGM on their own. Together with singer-guitarist Red Allen, the Brothers — Bobby singing lead and playing mandolin, Sonny singing baritone and playing banjo — had come up with an inventive new vocal arrangement that put the spotlight pretty much on them alone.

Lest that sound too cold, it should be noted that they deserved it, for not only was Bobby a formidable lead singer and Sonny brilliant in the support role, but their fearless, try-anything (the two recorded separately with avant-garde jazz vibraphonist Gary Burton in the mid-’60s) instrumental skills were profoundly original. The Brothers joined the Grand Ole Opry and signed with Decca Records in 1964, and spent the next decade fusing bluegrass and country in a way that eventually earned them a CMA Vocal Group award. Irascible, opinionated, and both artistically and commercially successful, the Osborne Brothers were at the forefront of the music until Sonny’s 2005 retirement — and while Bobby continues to perform to this day, the influence of their duo continues to grow, too.

Representative tracks: “Once More,” “The Cuckoo Bird,” “Tennessee Hound Dog,” “Pathway of Teardrops,” “Sweethearts Again”

Jimmy Martin (inducted 1995)

East Tennessee native Jimmy Martin (b. 1927) hungered to perform with Bill Monroe as a youngster, then got his chance in 1949 when Mac Wiseman quit the Blue Grass Boys. As lead vocalist and guitarist, he helped to make some of Monroe’s most memorable recordings, then partnered in various settings with Bobby and Sonny Osborne before taking the helm of his Sunny Mountain Boys in the mid-1950s. A brash, colorful guy who could boast with the best and then back it up, Martin served in the cast of the Louisiana Hayride (alongside Elvis) and the Wheeling (W.V.) Jamboree before a growing bluegrass festival circuit threw him a lifeline in the absence of a Grand Ole Opry membership.

Among early Hall of Fame inductees, he may be considered more influential than most of his peers. Service in his Sunny Mountain Boys constituted the training ground for several generations of musicians, from banjo man J.D. Crowe to newgrass pioneer Alan Munde to Americana favorite Greg Garing — and his appearance on the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band’s Will the Circle Be Unbroken was legendary. Martin was an unstoppable force of nature who knew exactly what he wanted from a musician, yet was unable to clearly explain it. Still, he did well enough that his records are instantly recognizable, even when you’ve never heard them before.

Representative tracks: “That’s How I Can Count on You” (with the Osborne Brothers), “Rock Hearts,” “You Don’t Know My Mind,” “Tennessee,” “Freeborn Man”

Pictured above, first row (L to R): Bill Monroe, The Osborne Brothers, Mac Wiseman, Jim & Jesse; Second row: Reno & Smiley, The Stanley Brothers, Jimmy Martin, Flatt & Scruggs

“The Shorthairs and the Longhairs”: The Story Behind ‘Bluegrass Country Soul’

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Bluegrass Country Soul captures one of Carlton Haney’s legendary festivals in Camp Springs, North Carolina, on Labor Day weekend of 1971. It is credited as the first bluegrass documentary, and is essential viewing for both lifelong bluegrass fans and those new to the genre.

This classic film features bluegrass music’s pioneers, as well as those who would take the music into the future. Earl Scruggs, The Osborne Brothers, Ralph Stanley, Chubby Wise, Mac Wiseman, J.D. Crowe, and Jimmy Martin were featured alongside The Country Gentlemen, Del McCoury, Sam Bush, Tony Rice, Ricky Skaggs, Keith Whitley, Alan Munde, and more. The film documents Rice’s last show with The Bluegrass Alliance and his first show with J.D. Crowe & the Kentucky Mountain Boys. Many of the festival’s legendary moments are preserved in color for posterity.

A larger than life figure who is credited as starting the first multi-day bluegrass festival, Carlton Haney organized the weekend’s festival, and serves as the de facto host of the film, sharing thoughts about bluegrass music, bluegrass festivals, bluegrass fans, and the bluegrass “stow-ry.” His passion for the music is evident, and makes for a great depiction of one of bluegrass’s most significant and one-of-a-kind personalities.

Albert Ihde, the film’s director (pictured below), spoke with BGS about the film and its legacy to commemorate the 50th Anniversary boxed set of the film, released this summer. The special edition set includes the original film, recently remastered and restored; CDs of performances not featured in the film; bonus footage including exclusive interviews with Ricky Skaggs, Bill Emerson, Missy Raines, and more; and a full-color coffee table book about the film.

BGS: How did the opportunity to film Bluegrass Country Soul present itself 50 years ago?

Albert Ihde: It was almost by accident, in a sense. A couple of buddies of mine and I were preparing a screenplay for a company in Washington, D.C. that had hired me to write a film, and then I would direct. The only thing that they insisted on was that it had to be about a Country & Western singer. Now this is 1971, and back then they called it Country & Western. I said, “Okay. Fine. Let me do some research on that.

A buddy of mine, Bob Leonard, and I were out scouting locations in Berryville, Virginia when we saw posters for Carlton Haney’s 4th of July Festival, and Earl Scruggs was going to be playing. We thought, “Well, that looks interesting.” To make a long story short, I got in touch with John Miller, who was the partner of Carlton’s there at Berryville, and John took us on a tour of the sites because I wanted to see what it looked like. It was right on the Shenandoah. Gorgeous location. He gave us passes to the Fourth of July Festival. We had no idea what bluegrass was, compared to country music, and we thought, “This looks like it’ll be fun. We’ll go to see this.”

Director, Albert Ihde

A bunch of us got a VW wagon, and my wife hooked up a camper on the back of our car. We went out, and we parked and saw it, and I have to tell you, as soon as I heard that music coming from the stage, we were all hooked. We talked to Carlton. Quite a deal! Talked to Fred Bartenstein (a local disc jockey who helped with the annual festival) and they told us more about what they were doing. I wanted to put Carlton in a film right then and there as soon as I met him.

We got back to D.C. and the company that hired me to write this screenplay, it turned out that they couldn’t raise the money to make the movie. So we took the film and decided we would try and find the money ourselves. Fortunately the first guy that I sent it to called us into his office. He was a major D.C. investor, philanthropist, and owned lots of real estate in D.C. He said that the thing that interested him most about the screenplay was this bluegrass festival out in Berryville. He said, “Why don’t you do a film about that?”

My partner and I looked at him and said it’s gonna be hard to raise money for a documentary, and he said, “How much do you need?” We get our calculator out, we start going through it, and we throw a figure out to him. It’s not gonna be as expensive as the film that’s going to have all the actors that would be taking us six to eight weeks to shoot. This, we could shoot in one weekend. He said, “Listen if you get Carlton Haney to agree to allow you to come and shoot the film at his festival, I’ll go out and find the money.” And we said, “Okay.”

The next day, Bob Leonard and I were on a plane to North Carolina and met with Carlton and Fred, pitched the whole idea to him, and Carlton was on board right at the beginning. He said, “Absolutely. No problem.” I said, “Well, are you gonna get all of these musicians to agree to this?” And he said, “Yes, I can do that.”

We had all of twelve days, two weeks, or something like that, to get the whole thing together to get down to Camp Springs on Labor Day weekend. And we lucked out. We happened to have this incredible festival with all of the pioneers of bluegrass, along with all of the up and coming newgrass guys who were changing the music as we watched. It was a great mix of both the old and the new, and as Carlton called it, “the mixture of the short hairs and the long hairs.”

That was it! You’ve got the hippies sitting right next to the guys right off the farm in coveralls. A guy in a Confederate hat sitting right next to hippie girls. It was a great mix. And everybody got along. And it was at a time in America when the country split. Nixon and the protests trying to bring our troops home from Vietnam. It was a strange time. But the thing that happened at the festival… everybody was getting along all right! Also of course, most of the audience were bluegrass musicians of their own or were learning or wanting to be. So that’s how we got into it.

What were some things about Carlton’s personality that made him such a compelling figure to follow for a film?

A number of people have said he was like the “P.T. Barnum of Bluegrass.” So it was kinda like, just put a camera on him and let him go, because you never know what he’s gonna say! Of course, the great thing about filming is, you can always edit it, and we edited out a lot of Carlton.

At one point, it was towards the end of the weekend, we were filming Carlton out on the lot, and I say “Carlton, we need something to kind of summarize the whole thing, and put a tag on the end of the film.” He said, “Oh, that’s okay. I know exactly what to say. Do you want me to make you laugh or do you want me to make you cry?” And I looked at my cameraman, and Bob was ten years older than me, and he had a lot of experience doing this, and I looked at Bob and I said, “What do you think? Make us cry?” And Bob nodded his head “Yeah, make us cry, Carlton.” And Carlton said, “Okay, start the camera rolling.”

So we started the camera rolling, and Carlton is saying goodbye to the kid who is packing up his gear at the end, and then he turns to the camera and he says, “You know, when people leave, it makes me sad, because all my friends are leaving. But I know that they had a good time, and that they’ll be back again next year.” And tears are coming to his eyes! And he says, “And that’s bluegrass and that’s a bluegrass festival.” And I said “Cut!” Bob and I just burst out laughing, and I said “Carlton, you’re going to get an Academy Award for that!”

To this day, Fred tells me, he runs into people and he says they will quote to him the lines that Carlton had in the film. “The shorthairs and the longhairs,” [and,] “You look down upon the stage and you can hear the soul of man — Ralph Stanley.” They just came out of his mouth!

The other thing was, he could not look at the lens, no matter how hard I tried. [Carlton] had this real shyness problem, and yet you put him on the stage and hand him a mic in front of ten thousand people, he was fine. But put a camera in front of him, he was looking away. Kind of shy and withdrawn. I think he was very concerned about his looks. He had terrible teeth. As somebody once said, that’s part of the times back then when nobody had health insurance or dental insurance… that was the last thing that people spent money on. So I think Carlton was a little shy about the way he looked. But he was an interesting guy.

Pictured: Ralph Stanley

You mentioned that one thing that was so compelling about the film, and at bluegrass festivals in general, was seeing people from different walks of life united by this music and finding common ground, even if it was for a weekend. What do you think that message has for us today where we are as divided now as we were fifty years ago?

I hope it has the same result. Every time I have shown the film — and I have shown it to heads of studios in Hollywood, I showed it to corporations up in New York City — no matter where I’ve shown it, people leave the theatre with big smiles on their faces. It’s not necessarily because they’re bluegrass fans, but because they enjoy it. They had fun. They were delighted. Something about that music, about the people playing it, about the commitment that these people have to it. There’s more to it than just country music. I think that’s what Carlton was trying to say about the soul. It’s a commitment to the music that is thorough.

I don’t know whether Carlton told me this or not, but at some point I learned early on: bluegrass music is not commercial country. Meaning, you’re gonna lose your shirts on it, but you’re doing it because you love it. That really says it all, and I think that comes through with music and with Carlton and with all of the people that are on stage in the film and all the people playing out in the field… You see the commitment to the music.

Ellen [Pasternack, the project’s Executive Director and Ihde’s wife] and I have a background in professional theatre, regional theatre around the country, and what you’re always looking for working in theatre are actors who can really commit to doing a performance. It’s that commitment to the art — whether that’s music, theatre, dance, or painting — that’s where you find the joy in the art. And I think that comes through in the film, even if you don’t know anything about bluegrass. I hope that comes through still to this day, and maybe gets people thinking “past the politics” for a moment or two just to look at the music and listen to the music. And to see, “If this was going on back then, why can’t it happen again?”

Photos and trailer courtesy of Bluegrass Country Soul.

14 Songs for Roller Skating in Buffalo Herds

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

No matter where you may stand on the Lil Nas X viral sensation “Old Town Road” and the associated media firestorm, Twitter debates, and raging country-purity authenticity signalling, we should all be able to agree on one thing: country music has always been a welcoming home to musical memes. Sure, that term may be more recent, a product of the internet age, but ever since the dawn of country as a format silly, tongue-in-cheek, self-deprecating, hilarious, and downright foolish songs have been just as integral a part of the genre as heartbreak, cheatin’, booze, and trucks.

We thought it’s high time we celebrate the knee-slappin’, gut-bustin’ history of country music’s meme-ready songs from across the decades. Here are fourteen of our favorites — yes, just fourteen. We can assure you there are dozens and dozens more where these came from.

“A Boy Named Sue” – Johnny Cash

The man in black, one of the most iconic personas in the history of country music, famous for his grit, his stoicism, and his rough-hewn voice wasn’t even “above” recording a song steeped in satire. Hopefully in 2019 life is getting easier for boys named Sue.

“What a Waste of Good Corn Liquor” – Tennessee Mafia Jug Band

Originally recorded by Country Music Hall of Fame and Bluegrass Hall of Fame member Mac Wiseman, this disconcertingly happy-sounding song tells a story with a moral: moonshine will melt you. Don’t spoil the moonshine.

“The King Is Gone (So Are You)” – George Jones

A song about Elvis, Fred Flintstone, drinking, and heartbreak. This one ticks all of the boxes. Even the “use yabadabadoo in a song” box.

“Did I Shave My Legs For This?” – Deana Carter

Country, after all, is all about the relatability of the human condition. Jilted would-be lovers everywhere have felt your pain, Deana. We truly have.

“Don’t Let The Stars Get In Your Eyeballs” – Homer & Jethro

The original Weird Al Yankovics of country and bluegrass, Homer & Jethro wrote (and re-wrote) scores of songs with wacky, eye roll-inducing, laugh-out-loud funny lyrics, ad libs, and arrangements. Check that steel solo!

“I’ll Oilwells Love You” – Dolly Parton

No, Whitney Houston did not cover this one. But that would have been magnificent.

“You Can’t Roller Skate In A Buffalo Herd” – Roger Miller

One of country’s humorous kings, Roger Miller recorded a host of silly songs over the course of his career. We chose this particular number because of its evergreen wisdom. Of course.

“You’re The Reason Our Kids Are Ugly” – Loretta Lynn & Conway Twitty

But you know what? Looks ain’t everything. And money ain’t everything.

“I’m My Own Grandpa” – Willie Nelson

Get out a piece of scratch paper and sketch this family tree as you go. Does it seem a little… circular? Yeah… that’s the problem.

“Would Jesus Wear A Rolex” – Ray Stevens

A modern country parable. Again, an artist with plenty of silly and sarcastic songs to choose from — and Ray Stevens is being inducted into the Country Music Hall of Fame this year. Sounds pretty country to us…

“Cleopatra, Queen Of Denial” – Pam Tillis

Yes. More country songs with outright puns as their hooks, please. And of course, we’ve all been there, Pam. Denial is a popular destination.

“Illegal Smile” – John Prine

On the opening track of his debut album Prine immediately set the tone for his entire career with some of the most nonsensical and witty lyrics ever set to song. “Well done, hot dog bun, my sister’s a nun.”

“I’ll Think Of A Reason Later” – Lee Ann Womack

If you’ve never driven down the road shouting along with this one, we highly recommend that you do — as soon as possible. The song’s main character has a remarkable sense of self-awareness for being so viscerally incensed. If you really hate someone — who may or may not have ended up with your former significant other — it may be your family’s redneck nature.

“My Give A Damn’s Busted” – Jo Dee Messina

Look, if you’ve gotten to the end of this list and you haven’t enjoyed yourself, or maybe you don’t get the point, or maybe you think this is just useless clickbait… whatever the case may be, this song counts as our response. “Nah, man. Sorry.” (Isn’t country the best?)

8 Legendary Artists on Our Bluegrass Bucket List

Posted on by Editor

It was 2012 which taught me that, even though bluegrass is a relatively young genre, I was taking that young age for granted. In just a few months, both Earl Scruggs and Doc Watson passed away before I had gotten the chance to see either of them live in concert. Being a banjo player, I was especially broken-hearted over never having met Earl and thanked him for everything he gave me, indirectly, via the banjo. Even though I resolved to catch shows by as many living legends as possible after that particularly devastating year, I have not done well enough. In order to learn from my personal shortcomings, here’s a list of the legends that we all simply must see and hear as much as we possibly can. There’s no time like the present.

Curly Seckler

Chances are, if you’re listening to a recording of Flatt & Scruggs, you’re hearing Curly Seckler sing the tenor. His singing and mandolin graced more than 100 songs during his tenure with the Foggy Mountain Boys. In the ’70s, he joined Lester Flatt’s Nashville Grass and inherited the act after Lester passed on. After retiring more than 20 years ago, he continued to release albums and appear as a guest with nearly every bluegrass band of note, on stage and in the studio. He’s a Bluegrass Hall of Famer, an IBMA Award Nominee, and one of the last surviving members of the first generation of bluegrass.

Mac Wiseman

AKA “the Voice with a Heart,” Mac Wiseman got his start with Flatt & Scruggs and the Foggy Mountain Boys, and went on to join Bill Monroe’s Blue Grass Boys before setting out on his own, carving out a solo career that continues to this day. Though he’s currently 91 years old, he just released a musical memoir, I Sang the Song (Life of the Voice with a Heart), on Mountain Fever Records and he has hundreds more songs backlogged for future release. The Country Music Hall of Fame and Bluegrass Hall of Fame inductee rarely performs these days, but musicians, writers, and fans continue to make the pilgrimage to his home just outside of Nashville where he holds court from his armchair — and still does his own vacuuming.

Jesse McReynolds

With his brother Jim, Jesse McReynolds toured and recorded some of the best brother duo bluegrass music ever created. A tireless innovator, Jesse has recorded an album of Chuck Berry covers, a Grateful Dead tribute album, and even appeared on the Doors’ Soft Parade. Lucky for all of us, Jesse still tours, playing festivals and concerts around the Southeast. He also performs quite frequently on the Grand Ole Opry and is the Opry’s oldest member. At 87 years old, he’s still got it — and you need not take our word for it, just catch him tearing through “El Cumbanchero.”

Eddie Adcock

Eddie Adcock is one of the wackiest, most joyful, ingenious banjo players to have graced bluegrass music with his playing. He, too, spent a stint playing with the Blue Grass Boys and went on to join the Country Gentlemen. He toured as a solo act with his wife, Martha, for many years. Their annual benefit concert for Room in the Inn, a homeless shelter network in Nashville, is always a highlight of the Christmas season. It’s worth attending just to catch Eddie, but the lineup is usually brilliantly star-studded. Interesting tidbit: Eddie had brain surgery to correct debilitating hand tremors and was kept awake during the surgery so he could play banjo and the doctors could determine to what extent they could eliminate the tremors. There’s video of this. Go find it.

Bobby Osborne

At 85 years old and after more than 60 years of performing professionally, Bobby Osborne filmed his first music video for “I’ve Gotta Get a Message to You,” the single off his brand new record, Original. That’s right, it’s a bluegrass Bee Gees cover. And it isn’t the only surprising cut on the new record, either. There’s “They Call the Wind Maria” from the Broadway musical Paint Your Wagon and Elvis’s “Don’t Be Cruel.” The record plays like a walk back through Bobby’s — and the Osborne Brothers’ — highly influential career in bluegrass, country, and the folk revival. You can catch Bobby touring across the country with the Rocky Top X-press and on the Grand Ole Opry. It might be the only context in which you hear Rocky Top without being mad about it.

Larry Sparks

Larry Sparks got his start with the Stanley Brothers in the early 1960s and, after Carter Stanley passed away, he became lead vocalist, singing some of Ralph Stanley and the Clinch Mountain Boys’ most iconic songs. His own band, the Lonesome Ramblers, continues to carry the torch for traditional, straight-ahead, no-nonsense bluegrass music, but without the hubris and self-righteousness that these uncompromising bands sometimes espouse. Larry was inducted into the Bluegrass Hall of Fame in 2015 and he is a two-time winner of IBMA’s Male Vocalist of the Year award. He’s still going strong with nary a sign of stopping. You need to do yourself a favor and see him live.

Roland White

Too often eclipsed by the fame and influence of his late brother, Clarence, Roland White is the quintessential bluegrass living legend. He appeared on the Andy Griffith Show with his brothers in its first season, he performed with the Kentucky Colonels, the Country Gazette, and the Nashville Bluegrass Band, and he founded the Roland White Band in 2000, after nearly 60 years in the industry. He recently turned 79, but he still teaches at camps and workshops, tours across the country, and plays monthly at the World Famous Station Inn in Nashville. Over the past few years, he’s re-released two live albums by the New Kentucky Colonels: Live in Sweden 1973 and Live in Holland 1973. These recordings should be required listening. Go get them.

Norman Blake

Do you know what Johnny Cash, Bob Dylan, Kris Kristofferson, Joan Baez, John Hartford, Nitty Gritty Dirt Band, Tony Rice, O Brother Where Art Thou?, Alison Krauss and Robert Plant, and Inside Llewyn Davis have in common? Norman. Blake. To call his guitar playing “iconic” would be sorely understating it. His influence reaches beyond bluegrass to almost any player who has ever picked up a flat-top box, whether those players know it or not. His latest record is Brushwood (Songs & Stories), recorded with his wife and longtime musical partner, Nancy. It’s a folk album that channels the roots of the music, but with a political bent that’s as unapologetic as it is classically folk.

Eddie Adcock photo by Eddie Janssens. All photos courtesy of the artists.

A Slice of Life: A Conversation with Mac Wiseman

Posted on by Editor

Members of Bill Monroe’s Blue Grass Boys — and there were more than 150 of them during his half-century career — often started their own bands in the style of their mentor. This was a huge part of Monroe’s influence: He was both bandleader and charismatic evangelist, training future bandleaders to preach bluegrass in a Monroe-style band of their own. His star students (Jimmy Martin, Lester Flatt, Earl Scruggs, Carter Stanley, Del McCoury, Peter Rowan) started their own influential bluegrass bands — not carbon copies, of course, but homages to the Founding Father’s vision. It was an apprenticeship model.

But one early Blue Grass Boy, Mac Wiseman, left the band to do something unusual: He played solo. He still sang songs from the canon of bluegrass and early country, but he presented them with just his guitar and voice. For dyed-in-the-wool grassers, it was kind of weird. The inside joke went something like, “Did you hear the sad news? Mac Wiseman broke up.”

There was another thing that made him different — and this is just my impression, but I think our interview backs it up. Among the early Monroe disciples, he projected a pretty non-bluegrass relationship to his Southern-ness. Wiseman grew up during the Depression in Virginia coal country, having as much of an authentic claim to rural roots as any of the bombastic blue-collar belters like Jimmy Martin, but he de-emphasized the drawl. Wiseman started his career as a radio broadcaster and always sounded like one. He didn’t want to develop a groovy, bluesy, Monroe-style band or shake the rafters with a piercing tenor. Instead, he found a home in the ’60s folk revival crowd. He told stories. He enunciated. He crooned.

And now, at 91, he has a new album. I Sang the Song (Life of the Voice with a Heart) features 10 songs that tell the story of Wiseman’s long, busy life. Featured guests like John Prine, Shawn Camp, Sierra Hull, and Alison Krauss help pay tribute to his distinctive voice and one-of-a-kind career. Amazingly, Mac Wiseman can still hit the high notes.

I called Mac at his house in Nashville and first got his answering machine. He picked up, interrupting my message, and said, “Sorry I almost missed you! I had the vacuum going!” We talked about his childhood during the Depression, how he learned guitar while recovering from polio, his introduction to John Prine (it involves a threat — and Earl Scruggs), and his deep disappointment with the direction of country music. At 91, he’s gracious, funny, and sharp as a tack — and, maybe most impressively, he still does his own vacuuming.

First of all, I think it’s amazing that you’re 91 years old and still singing. It’s amazing, too, to think of how much social and cultural change you must’ve seen in your lifetime.

Oh, it certainly is. And I’ve been blessed with a decent memory. When I think of all the different phases I’ve gone through, it’s hard to cope with it sometimes.

I know you were born in mining country in Crimera, Virginia, in 1925. I’m sure life in Virginia back then was pretty different.

The first four or five years I was alive, it was peaches and cream. Then the Depression hit and it was the opposite. It was onions and water! I have vivid memories of when I was four, five, six years old. I remember how carefree things were. When the new highways were being constructed all over the place, my dad was making nine dollars a day. He had a Ford Model T car with solid rubber tires on it in 1928. Then, the next year, he couldn’t even afford to buy the tags for it.

I heard that you started learning the guitar while you were recovering from polio, is that right?

Actually, it was while I was recovering from a few corrective surgeries. I had polio when I was six months old, but they wouldn’t do any surgeries until I was approximately the growth I was going to be. So, at about 13 years of age, I went to Charlottesville to the hospital — twice. They operated on my legs, and it made all the difference in the world. That’s when I started learning the guitar, just laying around with a cast on up to my butt!

I guess you couldn’t do much but sit and sing.

That’s exactly right. I had been very active, of course, working the farm for our livelihood, but when I was laid up that summer and fall through the seventh grade, my mother had to take me to pick up the school bus in a little buggy. Then I went on and became valedictorian. How do you like them apples? [Laughs]

That’s impressive! I heard another impressive quote about you. Bill Monroe called you “the best lead singer I ever had.” That’s pretty high praise from a guy who was a tough bandleader.

Well, he did say that, and that was very complimentary. Oh, working for him was very interesting. We toured a lot. He was from Kentucky, of course, and we played all the big theaters around there. We traveled and watched all the movie rolls. Bill and I watched them so much we could recite them riding along in the car! He was a very interesting man to work for. He knew exactly what he wanted to do, and he told you. But I enjoyed working for him and we never had a cross word.

You’ve made over 60 albums, recorded some 800 songs …

Yep, sure have. A lot!

… and most of that was before the Google era, when you could look up all 50 versions of a song with one click. How did you learn new songs, and how did you decide which ones to record?

In my growing up days, we mostly listened to live radio. In the ’20s and ’30s, radio was just coming into its own, you know, and it was mostly live — there were no disc jockeys. My mother was quite interested in music. She would play the organ and read shape notes and things like that. She encouraged me, hoping I would learn something that would get me out of the fields. That’s where I learned a lot of those old songs. She would sit out by the radio — we had the first battery radio in our community — in the wintertime, when it was too cold to work outside, she sat there and quilted and crocheted. She had a composition book laying on top of the radio, and when a live group would come on and sing a song, she’d get a verse or two of it. A few days later, they’d sing it again and she’d get some more. I’ve got 13 composition books in her handwriting where she wrote those songs down for me.

That’s really a treasure.

It is indeed. That’s where I got my background of the old songs. I can remember some of those songs from when I was four or five years old. “Granny’s Old Arm Chair” and “Barbara Allen,” things like that.

That’s interesting. Those old ballads like “Barbara Allen,” they’re story songs. And that’s sort of what the songs on this new record do. They tell your story.

That’s right. It’s my life story in song … 10 songs.

That’s one thing I really like about your singing, that sets you apart from some bluegrass and country singers — it may be a small thing, but it strikes me as important to you — that you sing words really clearly. It’s always easy to hear your lyrics.

Lyrics are very important to me. That’s been an important identity for me, as well. I went to college majoring in radio and did a lot of air work — news, pop records shows, working the control room — and that’s where a lot of my diction comes from.

Well, it shows in your songs. You know how to tell a story.

Well, I try to do that. You know, I actually lived those stories. They don’t change with generations. Even with a new batch of people, the old songs remain the same, and the themes remain the same. Disasters and love and train wrecks, things like that. They’re a slice of life, so to speak.

I’m only 26. My generation grew up with the Internet, many of us living in suburbs, getting our food from an air conditioned grocery store. Do you think all these songs about trains and cabin homes and farming can still resonate emotionally with people?

Well, like I said, they’re a slice of life. Maybe there aren’t many train wrecks that you know about anymore, but it’s also an historical look, these songs. I’ve played a lot of the colleges, the listening rooms, just me and a guitar. They’ve wanted to hear these old songs that paint a picture of a life these kids have never been exposed to. That’s the reason for the longevity of them, I think.

One amazing thing to me is that you’ve played through so many eras of history and eras of music. You were right there through the beginning of bluegrass in the ’40s, but you also played the Newport Folk Festival in the ’60s — what was the Newport folk scene like?

I never knew Bob Dylan, but I did a number of festivals with Joan Baez. After these festivals in the evenings, that was fun, we’d gather up in hotel rooms and sing old songs.

So you’ve been making music for a long time, and it seems like learning from every different generation — bluegrass in the ’40s, folk in the ’60s, pop along the way. Do you feel like you had to reinvent yourself for different eras?

No, I just kept on doing my thing, you know. I could’ve been a bigger star for a short period of time by following the trends, but I decided to just be myself and hoped people liked that. Fortunately, I’ve had a pretty good haul all these years. But I never tried to copy anybody else in the business or change my style to seek what they wanted.

You got to work with a lot of great musicians on this new record.

That’s right. Alison Krauss came by my house and we recorded “’Tis Sweet to Be Remembered” for the new CD. And I sang it the same key as I sang it in 1951 when I recorded it first for Dot Records! Even the new songs we wrote for this record, those are true stories in those songs: standing and warming my feet where the cows had been laying … wheat crop going bad because it rained on it … Every one of those are actual stories about my life. So, yeah, sorry to repeat myself, but it’s a slice of life.

John Prine is featured on this record, and you made a record with him in 2007. How did you get to know each other?

Well, I’d always been aware of his work. Then, one time, a guy who owned a studio came to Earl Scruggs’ birthday party — he’s a real boisterous fellow and he told me, “John says, if you don’t come see him Thursday, he’s going to kick your butt!” I admired him and all, so I went down to his office. What he had in mind was pitching me songs for me to do on my own. We got to talking and found out we knew a lot of the same things, so that’s how that record came about. That was one of the great experiences of my life, singing with John and swapping verses, you know. John still comes to my house to see me quite frequently.

You’ve been around for so much of country music history. I’m curious if you listen to any new music and what you think about it.

Today’s music? Well, I’m very disappointed in it, because so many of the younger artists don’t know the background. That’s the reason I go to colleges: They sit on the floor all hush-hush and listen to the old stories. Sometimes I have to do the same old song two or three times in a concert. So it’s an educational thing to the younger people. For so many industry people today, it’s all a mechanical thing. The record companies have publishing companies, so they can sign up an artist and put him in a room for four or five hours a day to write. Pretty often, one song out of the whole album is the one that hits, but the rest of them are junk. I still listen to it just to see what changes, but I don’t enjoy it like I did. There’s a few acts that I enjoy, but a lot of the younger ones, I don’t know who the hell they are!

So you feel like a lot of the younger artists don’t have an understanding of the history of country music?

No, they really don’t. They don’t have the knowledge of it. Actually, the record companies don’t have a knowledge of it. They’re business people out of New York and Chicago and L.A., and they come to Nashville to make business out of it. A lot of them have no idea of the history. I’ll give you a quick example: I was on the board of directors for the CMA where we nominated people for the Hall of Fame. And there was a young man on there from New York representing Decca Records here. We were at a board meeting, and folks like Owen Bradley were there, people of that vintage. [Note: Owen Bradley was an influential producer who helped modernize the Nashville sound in the ’50s and ’60s.] Owen nominated Brenda Lee. This young man stood up and quite innocently said, “Who is she and what did she do?” I wrote a letter of resignation right then and there. He was an honest fellow, and it was okay that he didn’t know, but what was he doing on that board?

Didn’t that make you want to stay on the board and change it and teach them a little more about the history?

No, you know, I was one of the founders. I worked at every facet of it. I’m the only living member of the original board of directors. I’ve been in it professionally since ’44, you know. Radio, bands, and recording. I was A&R director of the country department for Dot Records out of Hollywood for six years. Done a lot of things.

Well, you’re still singing at 91 — and you still sound like you. I’m sure a lot of people are wondering what’s your secret to staying productive into your 90s and still being able to sing so well.

I don’t know, but it is a blessing. I think it’s sticking to your guns and the good Lord’s blessing — that’s it.

Mr. Wiseman, I really appreciate you taking the time to speak with me this afternoon.

Well, it was my pleasure. I’m so pleased you’re writing about this music. But at the same time, you know, it keeps me alive.