Tag: Matt Glaser

These Berklee Students Helped Create Ensembles for Women and Non-Binary Folks

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

“Bluegrass music is a truly American artform. It reflects the culture and the time in which it’s created, and as with many traditional artforms, a preservationist stance is held on a pedestal. Bluegrass music’s history is very gendered, and when this happens, the music can’t reach its full potential.”

My teacher Laura Orshaw told me this.

There has been no shortage of amazing women bluegrass musicians to come out of the roots department at Berklee College of Music. Gillian Welch, Sierra Hull, Molly Tuttle, Bronwyn Keith-Hynes, and on and on. I’m going into my senior year at Berklee this fall as a mandolin principle, and one of the reasons I went to Berklee was how inspired I was by these women and their music.

Towards the end of my sophomore year, my friend Katelynn Casper – a brilliant bluegrass fiddler – came up with an idea. She wanted to start a bluegrass ensemble of all women and non-binary folks. Katelynn approached Matt Glaser, the artistic director of the American Roots Music Program, about helping us create a class in which we would study and perform in a group. Excited by the prospect, he brought in Laura Orshaw (the Po’ Ramblin’ Boys) to be our mentor. In the past few years, there had been a strong influx of women who came to Berklee and wanted to play roots music, so it didn’t take us long to find people who wanted to join the project.

The ensemble started in October of 2023 with about 12 members, enough for us to break into two ensembles. I got to be in both groups, in one as mandolinist and the other as bassist. Our focus between both groups was to play music mostly written by women who we looked up to and were maybe overlooked.

Through the course of our year together, we moved through a catalog of songs and tunes written by our heroes and then delved into original material. We wrote songs and tunes together and on our own and fleshed them out as a band. It was an empowering experience to be a part of and it was beautiful to watch my friends explore a new kind of confidence in their music.

This past April, the American Roots Music Program sent all of us down to Washington, D.C. In June of 2022, the Smithsonian Center for Folklife and Cultural Heritage opened up an exhibit entitled Music HerStory: Women and Music of Social Change. Laura had caught wind of the exhibit and wanted us to visit, so we could witness its content and impact. The exhibit explored many women who were significantly overlooked in music, but yet the world would have been drastically different had their music not been a part of it.

We heard and read stories of when Loretta Lynn put out “The Pill” and how much of an uproar it caused; stories of how Elizabeth Cotten had to put her music on hold to raise her children and didn’t come back to it until she was in her 60s, putting out “Freight Train” and “Oh Babe It Ain’t No Lie” and still was not given much credit.

Walking through the exhibit, I couldn’t help but think about all the different musical influences I have and how so many of those influences were inspired by these women, but how that was never really talked about.

On the same trip, we also got the privilege of going to Smithsonian Folkways Recordings and learning about some of the history of their record label and how it came to be. When we were checking it out, both ensemble bands did a little recording in the archives to commemorate the trip. Playing our originals and covers written by powerful women was an incredible experience. We were surrounded by original recordings and records that made bluegrass and old-time what it is now and some of the music that brought each of us to the genres to begin with.

While we were down in D.C., we also got the chance to hang out with Kimber Ludiker (fiddle) and Avril Smith (guitar), two members of Della Mae. In both groups, the inspiration from Della Mae was so apparent – we all learned many of their songs. Getting to stand up and play their songs with them was a mind-blowing experience.

Taking part in this project has been such an inspiring experience. As a kid who grew up in the bluegrass and old-time world, there weren’t always a lot of women to play music with, so to get the opportunity to dedicate time each week to just sit down with a group of deeply passionate women and non-binary folks who are also such remarkable roots musicians was an indescribably moving experience.

A common conversation amongst us during that time was how freeing and comfortable it felt to play music in a setting like this. Whether or not you think about it, music as a whole is an intensely male dominated world – and bluegrass isn’t any different.

“Here’s a question that crossed our minds every week,” Laura said. “‘What would bluegrass be like without patriarchy or bias?’ The answer comes through music, not essays, and this project certainly chipped away at our goal.”

Being in this ensemble, I learned a lot about myself. Being surrounded by a community of women and non-binary folks playing music taught me a lot about my confidence as both a person and a musician. Being in that environment gave me an amazing place to explore.

“When Matt [Glaser] asked me to be the curator of this project, I couldn’t have guessed how impactful and enlightening it would be for me. Working in an all-women and non-binary band filled a void for all of us – creatively, academically, and socially,” Laura continued. “Students shared experiences of the not-so-glamorous parts of working in a male-dominated field. They studied the music and songs of their heroes, who sometimes got overlooked in other classes and ensembles. They wrote songs, arranged music, and tried on different leadership roles in the band.

“But most of all, they encouraged and inspired each other to be better musicians. The mutual dedication and enthusiasm were palpable in every rehearsal.”

It’s been an experience of a lifetime to learn the music I love with a group of women who want to push the boundaries of the genre. To sit with a group of people who understand the intricacies of being a woman or gender non-confirming person playing bluegrass – or even music in general – was a very comforting experience. We all grew so much as people and musicians.

Photos courtesy of Emma Turoff. Lead image: Ensemble, No Man’s Land. Inset image: Ensemble, Ain’t That Just Like A Man.

Kishi Bashi Finds a New Comfort Zone in Folk Music on ‘Emigrant’

Posted on by Editor

There’s a particular knowledge that is born only from a road-worn trek, like literature’s hero’s journey, where a protagonist adventures in pursuit of higher knowledge or power, someone like Captain Ahab or Tom Joad.

Kaoru Ishibashi, the musician known as Kishi Bashi, packed a camper during the pandemic and left his home of Athens, Georgia, wandering northbound through the American frontier that’s woven throughout the Western narrative. With newfound time and his daughter in tow, this journey was a personal exploration of Ishibashi’s own identity through the sprawling American terrain.

His trip took him to places like Heart Mountain in Wyoming, a World War II Japanese internment camp — a location he has visited many times during research for his upcoming documentary, Omoiyari: A Songfilm by Kishi Bashi, where he visits similar sites throughout the United States searching for the history that still persists today. The journey also carried him through the Ozarks and the Dakotas, and to small Montana towns like Emigrant — population 271 — just north of Yellowstone, and ultimately across the great expanse of the States to Oregon.

BGS chatted with Kishi Bashi about how this trip is intrinsically tied to his new EP, Emigrant.

BGS: What was the concept behind creating Emigrant? What drew you to creating the theme around the EP?

Kishi Bashi: I’ve been spending a lot of time in Montana the last several years — especially this year, since I had so much time. I took the camper out, took my daughter out, and we did this huge trip cross-country all the way to Oregon; we spread it out over a period of months. I got to enjoy nature in a way that I hadn’t in the past, to kind of imagine what it was like back then. A lot of rural places are pretty much intact; it pretty much is what it was like 100, 200 years ago. In Montana, it’s really cold, so there’s a reason not many people live there — but that’s changing. Emigrant is a town in Montana north of Yellowstone where a friend of mine had a cabin. I borrowed it from her family, and I stayed there for a few days and fleshed out a lot of the EP.

How is the title tied to the name of the town?

To be an emigrant is to leave somewhere in search of a better place to live. I found myself really searching my own identity, my own place in this country — as a minority or even as a musician in these COVID times — trying to find what makes me happy or what makes me a person. The symbolism was really great. [Emigrant] was a frontier town for a lot of people. It was literally the frontier of this violent place, both naturally from the weather, and it was a really cutthroat environment. I was also watching a lot of Deadwood before that — it’s up around there. It may not be historically accurate, but the vibe is definitely accurate. It was that frontier, settler, colonialism type thing. It was a really harsh place to live.

How did you plan your route? What were some of the lessons taken from the road trip?

With my daughter, we started in Athens, so we went up north, and there was a lot of driving. It was a good history lesson for her because we went to the Black Hills in eastern Wyoming — actually, that’s where Deadwood takes place — and how it was Sioux territory. We went to Mount Rushmore, and it was pretty unimpressive. There’s a Crazy Horse Memorial they’re building, which looks interesting and amazing. I was getting her to understand that this is a very complicated, nuanced, but violent history that existed in these lands.

I had the realization that if you live in a city — a town that’s been modernized over and over and over — you don’t feel what it was like back then. That paved road you stand on was a dirt road at one point. Before that, it was just a trail. You don’t really get to see that unless you go out to Montana or some rural area. We basically went straight up through Tennessee, Arkansas, South Dakota, and then cut over through Wyoming.

It sounds like this road trip was an American history lesson. Did you purposefully choose locations around Indigenous or Asian American histories?

Heart Mountain [in Wyoming] — where the internment camp was — I had been there many times. And my daughter as well; she has been there a couple times in the summer, because we’re filming there a lot for this documentary I’m doing. You can’t avoid Native American spaces in this place. It was interesting to see that a lot of the reservations were closed to outside travelers because their health infrastructure was so shoddy, and that people around them were bringing in COVID irresponsibly. That was heartbreaking to see; they were really desperate to keep it out.

Tell me about “Town of Pray.” Was it inspired by the actual town of Pray, Montana?

More by the name; the town of Pray is such a stoic name. I was reading this book — do you know who Jeremiah Johnson is? He’s this folk hero [also called John “Liver-Eating” Johnson], I think a real person, pioneer, Montana mountain man. I don’t know if you know the legend, but it’s such a violent place to exist. He had a Flathead [now known as the Confederated Salish and Kootenai tribes] wife, and she was murdered by the Crows. Then he went on a murderous rampage against the Crows, and then they respected him, and he joined forces against a different tribe. We have a very narrow narrative of what history is. When you see this violent history, it just makes me grateful that I don’t have to, like, kill other people to thrive, which may have been the case if you lived around there back then. You’re always watching your back. You’re always susceptible to trauma.

What are some lessons you hope listeners take away from this EP? Or lessons you learned through making it?

If people have the opportunity to go out and visit nature, get outside of your comfort zone and explore this country. And even more social justice issues, if you wander into any of these small towns, like in Montana — Bozeman used to be like 20 percent Chinese. Now it’s like zero. There’s a reason a lot of towns are white. After they built the railroad, they drove everyone out of town. Wonder why this country is not being shared by everyone?

You included two covers on your EP, [Dolly Parton’s “Early Morning Breeze” and Regina Spektor’s “Laughing With”]. Why were those chosen, and how do they tie into the overall theme?

One of the reasons was I definitely wanted to showcase female songwriters, because I looked at the Rolling Stone top 100 songwriters, and there were like two women in there — like Madonna and Dolly Parton. And it’s embarrassing. So I made an effort to do that. Of course, I love Dolly Parton just like everybody else. I always liked that song, and I thought it fit the vibe. The Regina Spektor song — I used to play for her; I was in her band — I always thought she was underrated, especially amongst musicians and as a songwriter. Lyrically, she’s brilliant, and she’s a huge inspiration for me. For the next generation of people who may not know her music, I wanted to point out that I have the deepest respect for her songwriting by covering her song.

Why lean into the folk or bluegrass genre for this EP?

It’s something I always wanted to do. This is also a disclaimer: I’m not a bluegrass musician. I don’t have much of a bluegrass situation amongst me, but I’m bluegrass adjacent. I went to Berklee College of Music and I studied with Matt Glaser, who’s an Americana teacher. But I played jazz violin. Gypsy swing, that’s my thing. I always loved bluegrass music, but I never felt, culturally, it was something I could attach myself to. I had this whole stigma, like imposter syndrome, of not being from a rural place. I’m a city dweller. It took me a while to own up to a fiddle tune.

As I became more comfortable with my own identity of being an American musician — an Asian American musician — I was like, “What if I just want to play something folky?” It was something I always wanted to do. So there are a lot of fiddle elements, especially in “Town of Pray.” If you think about “What is American music?” There’s jazz, there’s blues. Fiddle tunes come from a lot of Irish and Scottish roots in the mountains. American music is this huge conflagration of all these different cultures melding into each other. I think that’s the beauty.

And where’s my place in that? I’m an Asian guy playing a European instrument — violin — playing jazz, which is from the South with African American contributions. I always felt like I didn’t have a real identity as an American, so that’s probably why I felt so comfortable singing bluesy stuff, or putting a fiddle tune in there — just because I want to.

Photo credit: Max Ritter