Tag: Melvin Goins

Acoustic Guitarist (And Instagram Star) Jake Eddy Is Still Mesmerized by Music

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Jake Eddy is among a new generation of bluegrass musicians who are making a name for themselves on social media. Jake’s videos on Instagram and other platforms garner thousands of likes and even more views thanks to his technical skill, wit, and charisma. But Jake is not a mere internet sensation. His bluegrass roots run deep through his family in Parkersburg, West Virginia, where he grew up playing with local traditional music legends. While touring with the Becky Buller Band, he made his debut on the Grand Ole Opry stage, which led to Jake and his brother Carter accompanying bluegrass/jazz/klezmer mandolin legend Andy Statman on the Opry. Jake stays busy with a full teaching schedule in addition to his time on the road with Andy, his own band, or as a solo act. BGS caught up with Jake to learn more about his early interest in bluegrass, his experiences in music school, and his upcoming Yamaha custom guitar.

How did you get into playing music?

Eddy: My grandpa was a picker, and my mom played, and I had two cousins that fiddled on the Opry back in the ‘70s on my dad’s side. So it was just kind of the usual thing for bluegrass people from my region. I was just surrounded by pickers and wanted to be one.

 

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When did you start on the guitar?

Banjo was really my very first when I was a kid. I started working on guitar simultaneously. Because of the technique, or maybe the lack of technique, being taught by old-timers around here, playing the banjo became uncomfortable and a little bit painful, and I could feel like it just wasn’t the best fit for me in the long term. I still do play banjo on some sessions and stuff like that, but as far as touring, playing banjo, it’s not in the cards for me. I prefer to play guitar anyway, so it’s okay.

When did you decide to make a career out of music? Or did it just sort of happen?

Yeah, it was pretty natural. I did the family band thing a little bit when I was real young. And then I got a call to go play banjo for Melvin Goins when I was in middle school. That experience was awesome, like going to bluegrass school. It was really crazy and had some great and terrible things both going on. But it was really cool because my parents let me go on the road under the condition that I would bring an adult with me at all times. They had played music so they were hip to what it can be like on the road. The deal ended up being that my grandpa would chaperone me on the road. So he came with me, and on the first show, Melvin had this blowout with the bass player, and the bass player quit. And I tell Melvin, like, “Hey, my grandpa is a bass player.” And he filled in on one show with us and got offered the gig. So we actually were both in the band for two years together. It’s a great memory, and it grew me up really fast, but it was cool.

That’s a great story. It’s hard to explain to other people what that experience is like as a kid. All the good and bad and how much you learn.

You can imagine. You know, those old-timers. It’s a different lifestyle.

How long did you play with Melvin?

I think it was two years. I think I got hired when I was 14. I think I was in 7th or 8th grade and probably quit when I was in the 10th grade or something like that.

Did you end up going to music school?

Yeah, I did music school for a little bit, and I was a horrible student. The usual, playing a bunch and giggling a bunch, but not going to class a whole lot, and just decided that it seems silly to me that a lot of the really great players I knew at music school were not doing very well at school. And a lot of the so-so players were passing with flying colors. So it just started to seem silly.

It’s definitely funny to go to school to theoretically get a job that you already have.

Yeah, man, that was the thing. They would get on me about attendance, and I would be like, I’m playing gigs. And I get it that you can’t bend the rules but I figured it wasn’t a fit for me.

 

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Where were you going?

I was going to Ohio University in Athens. It’s this little, cool, artsy, open-minded kind of bubble in Ohio. And OU Music School, in my eyes, was a place for a lot of your local music educator-type people, but it also had this population of disgraced jazz players from CCM, which is a bigger school in Cincinnati. So there were some good players floating around, but just a weird scene.

Were you studying jazz then?

Technically the degree was Guitar Performance, maybe? Or guitar something. But yeah, I was in the jazz track, so all my ensembles and all my instructors were jazz players, and I had played that music a bit before. I learned things in music school, but if given the opportunity again, I don’t know if I would have gone that way.

You’re playing with Andy Statman now, right?

Yeah, a bunch. Man, it’s cool. I assume you’re hip to Andy’s playing because, like, all the mandolin nerds love him. He’s the coolest. I hired him to cut a couple of tracks that I wrote, and we ended up really hitting it off and we hung out some and decided to do a couple of one-off shows. And it just snowballed into doing some tours. Andy is Orthodox Jewish, so he doesn’t work weekends, so our touring is limited in some ways. But we’ve gotten to play quite a bit and we’re about to go out again in the spring, it’s looking like, and we got a record coming out on his label, so, yeah, some things happening there for sure.

What’s the material you play like?

Andy’s a huge Monroe buff, so there’s a lot of nights where we’re playing things like “Evening Prayer Blues” or “Tombstone Junction” and all these Monroe tunes, but they can quickly take a musical turn and he’s a pretty deep musician. It’s definitely traditional material, but it’s through the lens of a pretty free approach, I think is the way I’d put it.

What was your practice regiment growing up? How do you think you got so technically good?

I’m sure in a lot of ways my brain is totally broken and that’s why this has worked out for me. I think a lot of musicians are that way. I think if I was completely normal, I’d probably just like music in a hobbyist, healthy way. When I was a kid, I hesitate to put a number on it, but I’d say when I was really into soaking up everything, I was probably playing eight or 10 hours a day. That’s before school, after school. I would try to skip a class here and there to play, or I would skip lunch or I would fake sick at a gym and go get the guitar. I was always working an angle to be playing more. And then after school, playing until bedtime and playing gigs with the family band on the weekend.

It was an extreme focus on picking. I think I was lucky just being exposed to music a bunch. I worked really hard at it, but my parents made it seem cool and made it seem accessible. And I think that plays a pretty big part as well, right? There are still some days where I’ll go in my studio for eight or 10 hours with the metronome on full blast just going crazy in there. And then when it’s done, you feel totally drained. I feel like my brain is melted. That’s not how I tell my students to practice. I tell them to do something that’s manageable and that’s part of their normal routine. But I’m certainly not following that advice.

 

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I’ve always felt like if somebody wants to get that good, they’re going to do that regardless of what tools they have. You can’t really convince someone to be that obsessed with it.

Yeah, man, I think so. It’s a blessing and a curse kind of thing. But I still feel a ton of amazement and wonder by the guitar and by music. And that’s the secret thing you can’t teach anyone. I still think music is so mesmerizing and just so damn cool.

You’ve been working with the Yamaha custom shop on a guitar. Can you tell me about that?

Yeah, I don’t have it in my possession yet, but I have a prototype that’s really good. I played some of their prototypes at the Fretboard Journal Summit in Chicago last year. I thought it was a good guitar and one of the better ones I played there that weekend, which was really surprising because Yamaha doesn’t historically have a huge reputation in the bluegrass world. So they called me and sent one and then they had me come down and play at IBMA. It’s just one of those luck things. Bumped into the right guys and it kind of snowballed. I went out with Jordan Tice and filmed some promo stuff for a new model and demoed the guitars. I think my custom’s going to be done any day now. They’re cool, man. And they’re not cheap guitars — these are nicer models. They’re not trying to be old-sounding guitars by any means. It’s modernly voiced and it’s cool.

 

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When you say these guitars are “modernly voiced,” what did you mean by that?

In one sense it sounds new. It doesn’t sound particularly dry and woody like an old guitar might, but it’s really slick and it’s loud and it’s balanced. It’s great up the neck. It has a little more sustain than something like my old D-18. Talking about guitars is kind of like talking about wine tasting or something. It’s hard to explain.

Yeah. I always find the word choice very funny and completely arbitrary.

It means nothing but you can hear the differences when you play them. They’re really fast. When you play the note, it’s right there. It has good attack. It’s super-even and balanced. Those are the main kinds of things I like out of my D-18. But it’s a different voice. I think when the demos and stuff come out, it’ll make more sense when people can hear it.

What did you go for in your custom model? I feel like people are always really specific with custom instruments and I have no idea what I would ask for on something like that.

Yeah, I went with things that I knew were good. I think a lot of people, when they get a custom build, they have the tendency to try to be cutting-edge or to be a smarty-pants about it and be like, “Oh, I want this certain type of wood from this certain type of tree with the grain like this.” I just went for a mahogany guitar, spruce top. It’s really simple and lightweight. I think you can get carried away wanting a special guitar more than you want a good guitar. There’s no inlay on it. And I really pushed them for a double pick guard. I don’t know if they’re going to go for it because a lot of the aesthetic stuff is controlled by the guys in Japan. But fingers crossed. I’m excited to get it in my hands. If it’s anything like the prototypes, it’s going to be pretty sweet.

Photo Credit: Madison Thorn

WATCH: Sideline, “Return to Windy Mountain”

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Artist: Sideline
Hometown: Raleigh, North Carolina
Song: “Return to Windy Mountain”
Label: Mountain Home Music Company

In Their Words: “‘Return To Windy Mountain’ has a story that any full-time entertainer can relate to. Based on the life of [Kentucky Music and West Virginia Music] Hall-of-Famer Melvin Goins, it talks of a musician that got sucked into the lifestyle at an early age. He left home and everything he’d known to follow his dream. He travels the world, propelled by his love for music, but finds that his mind keeps drifting back to his homeland and all that he loved and left. Knowing that he is destined to spend the rest of his life on the road, he still makes his goal to finally return home for his final rest.

“While we love what we do, we all sacrifice so much for this life and we couldn’t do it without the support of our families. This song definitely hits home, and I feel like it comes out in the music and the arrangement.” — Skip Cherryholmes, Sideline

Photo credit: Photo courtesy of Sideline

BGS 5+5: Justin Hiltner & Jon Weisberger

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Editor’s Note: Our writers at the Bluegrass Situation have many talents — and for regular contributors Justin Hiltner (pictured right) and Jon Weisberger, their original music is worth discovering by our BGS readers.

Artist name: Justin Hiltner & Jon Weisberger
Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee
Latest album: Watch It Burn
Personal nicknames (or rejected band names): “J-Dubs” (Jon); “HUSTIB” (Justin).

Which artist has influenced you the most … and how?

Jon: It would have to be Merle Haggard. His music and his career exemplify so many things that first attracted me to country and bluegrass music. For instance, he worked as a sideman before going out on his own, in a classic sort of apprenticeship that I really appreciate; he wrote about a lot of different things in a lot of different ways, with his personal story being just one element in his songwriting; and to me, he really found a sweet spot between acknowledging and taking part in tradition on the one hand, and having his own, unique voice on the other.

Justin: It’s difficult to pinpoint just one, especially given that bluegrass is predicated upon versatility and wearing all of the creative and musical hats all at once. If I were to hazard an answer, based on where I stand at this point in time, musically and otherwise, it would have multiple parts. Earl Scruggs, first and foremost, really and truly is my most important banjo inspiration. “Little Darlin’ Pal of Mine” off of At Carnegie Hall! was undoubtedly my OH-SHIT-EARL-SCRUGGS moment. Darrell Scott would probably fill the most influential songwriter slot (and getting to sing harmony with Tim O’Brien on Watch it Burn’s “If I Were a Praying Man” let me live my Darrell Scott dreams, if just for one song!) And if I were to pick an influential vocalist, it would have to be Lee Ann Womack. Now I ought to stop while this answer is still sufficiently succinct.

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

Jon: There are several different kinds of tough! I remember that when Jeremy Garrett and I first wrote “Where The Rivers Run Cold,” he got some feedback about the song that caused us to spend some time trying to write a different chorus, and that was tough; eventually, the band adopted it as it was originally written, which turned out pretty well. And he and Josh Shilling (Mountain Heart) and I recently revisited one we kind of thought we had finished back in late 2014, but that none of us was really satisfied with; that one wound up with a different time signature and a different chorus that we love, but working out what to change and what to keep was a real job.

Justin: On my own, I tend to write hyper-personal, intensely specific songs. I often find myself way too close to a song’s hook or core idea, so close that I can’t make progress or finesse the writing at all. The beauty in having a co-writer like Jon nearby, someone that I’ve worked with for so long, is that I can trust him to take one of those personal song ideas and flesh it out in a way that cares for the premise, but insures that it’s relatable to a broader audience. This is exactly how we wrote “This Isn’t How I Wanted to Come Home” together, a song about my grandma passing away. Without a steady co-writing hand like Jon’s, so many difficult songs sit languishing, unfinished, in my iPhone notes!

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

Jon: Super-simple: write and play music that means something to me, and do so well enough that it means something to others, too — enough that I’m able to, as Melvin Goins used to say, put a biscuit on the table.

Justin: That no one ever feel excluded from these roots genres that we love because of who they are. Full stop.

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

Jon: I guess that would be fauna — specifically, cats. My wife and I have two, and they affect my work every time I write with someone at our house! Matisse, the older of the two, appears in the “at the writing table” photo used in Watch It Burn’s graphic design, and in other promotional photos, too, illustrating the exact nature of that impact — entertainment and/or distraction.

Justin: I should hope at this point that it’s a well-known fact that I’m an avid birdwatcher and amateur naturalist. I’ve got 353 species of birds on my life list (an ongoing list of every species I’ve ever successfully identified in-field). I learned very early in my time as a performer that I ought to bring my binoculars wherever I go on tour. I write a lot of songs about birds, but so many aspects of nature filter into my writing — as in “Lady’s Slippers,” from the record, a song indirectly about a gorgeous, rare native orchid. “Winnsboro Blue” was written for a quarry near property my uncle owns in upstate South Carolina, where we go birding every time I’m in the area. It comes through whether you can always trace the connection or not!

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

Jon: I’ve never really thought about it in that way, I guess, in part because I’ve pretty much always been a side musician and singer who took up songwriting more out of need than out of the urge for self-expression that I think motivates a lot of singers and writers, at least when they’re starting out. Too, bluegrass and country are fields in which distance between singer/writer and the character written or sung is no less legitimate than complete identification. Perhaps this more craft-oriented approach has helped as a co-writer; I’m really accustomed to looking for how I can relate to the germ of a song idea almost in the way a listener, rather than a writer would. As a result, I do think there’s a part of me in every song I’ve written, even though they’re almost all co-writes — in fact, that’s part of what makes co-writing so enjoyably mysterious or mysteriously enjoyable.

Justin: I used to hide myself and my identity in my songs not by clever or deflective writing, but by literally distancing myself from my songs. If I had written something with prominent male pronouns I would pitch the song to women, operating under the assumption that I could not/would not ever be the one singing those songs. For so long I felt that my queerness need not be present in my writing and my art, because, “Straight people aren’t flaunting their identities in their music!” Turns out 99.9 percent of all music ever made flaunts heteronormativity pretty unabashedly, so I consciously broke the habit of filtering my own perspective out of my songs. It was a pivotal point for me, personally and professionally, and I’ll never go back to hiding behind songwriting rhetoric choices ever again!

Photo credit: Bethany Carson, Carson Photoworks

Taking the Wheel: A Visit With Rhonda Vincent

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In no small part because of her bubbly personality, Rhonda Vincent has befriended some of the biggest names in bluegrass and country music. Dolly Parton asked her to sing harmony for an upcoming film soundtrack. Bernie Taupin gave her free reign to reimagine “Please” on an Elton John tribute album. Bluegrass heroes Bobby and Sonny Osborne set aside a 10-year break of performing together to appear on her newest album and DVD, Live at the Ryman. And she’s a frequent guest on the cable series Larry’s Country Diner, where she displays her talent for singing classic country among a roster of stars from the golden era.

Yet, beyond her upbeat demeanor, the real reason these legendary artists are reaching out is simple: Vincent is in top form with her musicianship and singing ability. In concert she glides to the high notes without straining, occasionally boosted by a little jump. She easily trades off between mandolin and fiddle, although she’s just as likely to let a band member from The Rage take the spotlight.

Off stage, Vincent maintains the tireless work ethic that’s carried her from being a child prodigy in Missouri to a Grammy-winning artist. (She picked up the 2017 Grammy for Best Bluegrass Album for a live album, All the Rage: Volume 1.) She leads her business with longtime husband, Herb Sandker, and keeps her hands on all facets of the industry – and now that means the steering wheel of the bus, too.

A few days after performing at her family’s Sally Mountain Bluegrass Festival in Queen City, Missouri, Vincent invited the Bluegrass Situation into her home studio in Nashville.

On stage, you appear to be so comfortable when you talk to the crowd. Why is that important for you to do?

I love that first of all. It’s something fun for me. It’s not something fun for everyone, I realize. But that is such a part of what we do. I love meeting the people. I think my first trip to Europe was to Finland in ’92-’94 or something like that with my family. And I’m thinking, That’s going to be such a different experience. I’m thinking I’m going to Mars or something. The terrain’s going to be different and the people are going to look a different way or something, I don’t know. I got there and it’s like “This looks like Missouri.”

But I found out the people were so special. The places may look the same, but the people are what can really make it special. And I like making it an experience. People are shocked because we meet and greet after every show, and they’re like “Oh my gosh, I actually get to talk to you?” Or they come and they can’t believe it and then they don’t say anything.

And then beyond that it’s not just a show, it’s not just a meet and greet, but now with Facebook and social media I get to stay in touch with them. Not that I can answer everyone, but I have set aside a little bit of time. Usually right before I go to sleep I have about 30 minutes and I try to answer messages or respond to people.

There’s a blind girl that lives in Portland, Oregon, and she sent me a message asking how to tune her mandolin. So I took my phone and made a YouTube video and [mock playing] ding, ding, ding, ding. I said “Cody, here’s E…” And I went through that and posted that and sent that to her. And from that, she flew all the way from Oregon to my family’s festival and she performed on stage with us at Sally Mountain last week. So it’s about relationships and loving these people because they love you so much and they love the music.


What is the audition process like to be in your band? How do you pick your musicians?

Mostly I guess I would see them. Like Hunter Berry, I saw him with Melvin Goins. What struck me about him, once again, he made himself accessible. He was backstage at the festival in Eminence, Missouri, and I would see him there every year, jamming for hours before they ever went on stage. Then he was with Doyle Lawson, the same thing. Then when I had an opening on fiddle, I called him up.

First of all their style has to fit the music and Hunter has that Benny Martin feel. He has that grit, and I loved that about his fiddle style. Mike Cleveland was in the band before Hunter, very similar styles, so the style had to fit. But just always being aware. I love to get out at SPBGMA or IBMA, wherever we are at festivals, and hear young talent because you just never know. …

It’s nice that you can be the one to make those decisions. You don’t have to say, “All right let me get back to my lawyer and my label.” This is kind of a family business for you.

It is, yeah. It’s what you see is what you get. The Live at the Ryman CDs came in recently. I went by myself and loaded up 6,000 CDs and loaded them in my car to bring them to the warehouse. The guy’s like, “Don’t you have somebody to do that?” And it’s like, “Yeah I do, but this is a good workout program.” And there’s a satisfaction going, “Wow! Look how nice I stacked those, and look how nice this is.” And you know what, I’m in charge of inventory.

Back to your question about musicians… it wasn’t always so easy to find musicians. When you’re starting out and you don’t have a lot of dates, I couldn’t seem to keep the band members. And it used to be where the agency would call and they’d go “Band of the week, band of the week.” So I heard this over and over. And also there’s being a female. I had a guy that I called to audition once. We set up an audition; he called back an hour later and he goes, “My wife’s not going to let me travel with you.” I mean, I’ve been married it’ll be 35 years on Christmas Eve, so I know where I stand. You know, we have fun, but there’s a line, and we’re not going to cross that line, no one is. If you do, you wouldn’t be here.

Early on, I’d be like, “Oh my goodness, I want to keep these musicians.” Or if there was an issue, I was really learning how to deal with that. Now as I have gotten more experience, I’ve been in the business longer and my tolerance level is gone. If you’re drinking now before the show, you’re fired. But you don’t have that at first. There’s a timeline for that. It’s like trying to get musicians, then trying to keep musicians, and I’ve been through all of that.

Another thing, I had done two mainstream country albums [in the ‘90s] and for the longest time, it’s like, “Are you country or are you bluegrass?” I was clearly playing bluegrass, but I was coming from that, and so I took a mentality of always proving yourself. I felt like I had to prove that yes I am bluegrass. Or [hearing] “Well you’re not going to stick with this.” One time my whole band quit, and people were like “Oh I guess you’ll give up.” It’s like “No, that’s when I call better musicians.” Thanks to my father always saying, “Don’t let anyone say you can’t do something. You just figure out how to do it.”

Did all the band quit within a week’s time?

On the same night.

Wow.

It was right after we won [IBMA] Entertainer of the Year. I think that was 2001, maybe, yeah. Then there’s the rumors: “Oh she’s hard to deal with, she’s impossible, she did this” So this is the best one I heard and I heard it a lot: That I threw an ashtray at Mike Cleveland, who is blind. That doesn’t even make any sense. Number one, there’s no smoking on the bus so we don’t have an ashtray – or if it was a beer or whatever, I don’t know. I’ve heard that a lot. I mean, it was sort of ridiculous, it’s like “OK, it’s untrue, but whatever you think.”

I’ve worked with so many different things, and different attitudes. It was like, “Oh my gosh, what is the problem this week?” When that changed, I regrouped and for the longest time I would sit there and go, “There’s no issues, there’s no problems. What’s going to happen?” It took a long time to finally relax and go “Great people, great musicians, and how awesome not to have some sort of a meltdown every week about something.” So yeah I am not immune to that and I have been around that, but the more that you progress – now don’t try that with me. Because I’m not going to forget it. There’s not going to be a tolerance for it.

I think leadership comes from the top down, and if you’re out there working really hard and meeting those expectations too, other people will rise to the occasion.

That’s true. And that comes with the fact that I don’t ask anyone to do something that I’m not willing to do myself. In fact I’m even working on getting my CDL’s for the bus.

Is that the driving license?

Yep. Yeah, I never in my life thought I would do that, but we have the electronic logs now, and we have a driver first of all, and then Mickey [Harris, the bass player] is the second driver. But when we went to Connecticut, and they have the timelines of how long they can drive, we nearly ran out of hours. I asked the rest of the guys and nobody was interested. And then I thought, “If I’m willing to ask them, I need to be able to do that myself.” I’ve been in driver training.

Really!

I have my permit and everything. I’m excited, I am so excited! It’s so empowering, it’s like, “If I want to go somewhere on my own bus, I’m going to be able to do that!”

Photo courtesy of Rhonda Vincent