Tag: Pete Seeger

Leyla McCalla in Conversation with Singer-Activist Barbara Dane

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

(Editor’s Note: Cellist, composer, and creator Leyla McCalla brings us a conversation as guest contributor with singer and community activist Barbara Dane – in celebration of her 96th birthday on May 12.)

I felt an immediate connection to Barbara Dane when I heard her voice. I first learned of Dane while developing music for a FreshScore – a commissioned piece written to a film in the public domain to be performed at the Freshgrass festival back in 2018. I had just given birth to my twins and I found myself researching songs to use in my score. During that time, I came across a civil rights era song called “Freedom Is a Constant Struggle” that Dane had released with a group called the Chambers Brothers in 1966. I fell in love with the recording – the performance was powerful and poignant; the message was so direct. 

Some songs just make you want to learn them. Freedom is a constant struggle. A perfect and ever true statement. It inspired me to write a song I called “Trying to Be Free” that became one of the songs in my FreshScore. I dug further into Barbara Dane’s catalogue and found a song that she had written called “I Hate the Capitalist System.” This felt very in line with the themes in my (at that time) yet-to-be-released third album, The Capitalist Blues. This is the epitome of the “folk process,” a phrase I jokingly use when talking about songwriting. You think you’ve found a unique idea, only to find that the idea has existed since time immemorial. The road that is paved with gold keeps on getting mined, refilled, and recycled and on and on. 

Years ago, a friend suggested that I check out the song “Dodinin” by Atis Indepandan – a group of Haitian artists living in exile in New York City from the brutal Duvalier dictatorship in Haiti. The album is considered a classic within the Haitian diasporic community.  When I was doing research for Breaking the Thermometer – the album I made inspired by Radio Haiti and the legacy of its journalists – I found myself more deeply exploring the songs. I’ve never been more grateful that Smithsonian Folkways has downloadable liner notes on their website! And beyond that, I was grateful that the liner notes were so thorough; it included essays on the political context of the music as well as Kreyol and English Translations of the songs. The songs spoke to the struggles of the times and longing for home of Haitians in exile. It is hands down one of my favorite pieces of art ever made. I knew I had to include Dodinin on the record.  

Fast forward to the release of the album, Barbara Dane’s son, Pablo Menendez, emailed me. He was curious about whether I was aware of his mother’s legacy and if I knew that the album was originally released on Paredon Records, the label that Dane cofounded with her husband, Irwin Silber. Paredon Records was not a typical label; all of their releases highlighted the political struggles of people from all over the world with a mission to uplift movements and voices of opposition to oppression. He also mentioned that I should read her newly released autobiography, This Bell Still Rings, and I immediately ordered it and began to read her fascinating life story. I was even more amazed when I looked at the inner flap of the hardcover and saw that my name was mentioned as one of the inheritors of her legacy! It was a very life affirming surprise. How did I not know?!

I worry that we are living in a time of tragic disconnection. As musicians, we are constantly being pushed towards releasing a steady stream of “content” to get more views and more likes, more money, and more recognition. But, often times that comes at the expense of our health. I mention this because I feel that more people in our musical community should be aware of the music, ideas, and ethos of Barbara Dane. She is someone who has always centered the needs of the community, locally and globally. She doggedly worked to understand the causes behind the stratification of our society and gracefully occupied so many roles to be able to use her creativity for the greatest good for herself, her family, and others. As a mother of three myself, I was very curious about how she did it! Whether you realize it or not, we need Barbara Dane right now – if nothing else, to remind us of our essential power when we center community care.

Reading her memoir and seeing that Dane’s 96th birthday was coming up (it was May 12, 2023), I felt inspired to do something to mark her birthday. I remember thinking to myself, “Let’s celebrate our heroes while they are still here!” I released a cover of her song “Freedom Is a Constant Struggle” alongside a cohort of collaborators from my adopted home of New Orleans. My manager suggested that perhaps we could arrange an email interview and I was ecstatic when Dane graciously replied with a yes. 

I am incredibly pleased to share the interview with you here on BGS and I hope it will inspire you all to think more about the potential we all have to take better care of each other. This bell still rings!

Leyla McCalla: I have been reading your new autobiography, This Bell Still Rings. What does this title mean to you and what do you want readers to understand from it?

Barbara Dane: The title is taken from a lyric by Leonard Cohen which I will quote for you:

Ring the bell that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There’s a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in

What I’d like readers to take from that is that the imperfections in things are what offer possibilities for learning and growth.

How did your early experiences of blending music and activism shape your career? Was there any particular moment where you felt that this would be your life’s work?

I never thought of myself as having a “career,” I guess my professional work grew out of the need to put food on the table. As far as blending music and activism, early on it became clear that my voice was a valuable tool for my community work. I was lucky enough to be exposed to movements like People’s Songs that allowed me to see the possibilities at a young age. The artists that influenced me the most in this regard during my formative years were Paul Robeson and Pete Seeger.

Who do you cite as some of your earliest teachers and/or influences to your musical approach?

Early on I was exposed to the music of Billie Holiday and Louis Jordon and of course the big bands so popular in the 1940s, like Ellington, Basie, and Glenn Miller. Earl Robinson’s famous “Ballad for Americans” was foundational. And definitely such giants as Paul Robeson, Leadbelly, Pete Seeger, and Malvina Reynolds, and later, the blues women of the 1920s and 30s: Bessie Smith, Ida Cox, Ma Rainey, and Sippie Wallace. And of course there was my beloved Mama Yancey.

Your vocal phrasing is incomparably gorgeous; it feels both so natural and so intentional. When did you realize that you had a natural gift and was your craft something that you worked on intentionally, or something that came naturally, or both?

Listening to Louis and Billie taught me that you don’t have to stick to the bar lines. I was more comfortable with the conversational feel of their phrasing. Once you understood the structure of the piece, you can be free within it. So no, I never worked on it and none of it was intentional. My intention has always been to be completely in the song and let its emotions and meanings lead me.

 You opened a music venue in 1961 called Sugar Hill. It sounds awfully stressful to run a music venue while raising small children! Can you share more about how that came to be and that time in your life?

Actually, on the contrary, the whole idea of opening the club in our hometown, was it that it would allow me to spend more time with my family instead of always being out on tour. Running the club was a joy and gave me the opportunity to introduce some of the old timers who had more to give to a new audience that was just beginning to become interested in the blues.

Who were the Chambers Brothers and how did you come to collaborate with them?

They were four talented brothers, recently migrated from Mississippi to LA, who had formed a gospel group and were looking for ways to broaden their audience. I first met them in 1960 when I invited them up to the stage at the Ash Grove to join me in singing some of the songs that were emerging from the civil rights movement.

You were the first U.S. artist to tour in Cuba after its revolution. What was the impact of that experience on your life?

Going to Cuba in 1966 changed my life. I was energized by the optimism of the Cuban people as they engaged in building a new and more equitable way of life. For the first time I felt identified with the direction society was moving in, whereas at home I was always in the opposition.

Paredon Records is the label you founded with your husband Irwin Silber in 1969. What made you want to start a record label and produce albums?

In 1967, I attended Cuba’s Encuentro de Canción Protesta where I met singers from all over the world who were deeply committed to struggles for peace and justice. When I returned home, I felt the urgent need to expose the U.S. public to the significant and timely music I heard there. First I experimented with translating and singing some of the songs myself, but I soon realized it would make more sense to present the original voices. So I decided to launch a record label. Irwin had skills to bring to the table from his years of experience in publishing, and with his support, I produced and curated over 50 LPs of liberation music from the U.S. and around the world. Eventually, to ensure the collection’s availability in perpetuity, we donated it to Smithsonian Folkways.

You’ve toured internationally, including Franco-era Spain, Marcos’ Philippines under martial law, and North Vietnam under the threat of American bombs. What inspired these tours and why did you feel they were important places to bring your music?

With my international work I carried a message of peace and anti-imperialism, representing the sentiments of peace-loving Americans.

I’m also a mother of three and I find myself in awe of how much you were able to accomplish in your life while also raising your three children. How did you balance your musical life, activism and child rearing? Do you have advice for artist parents on how to navigate it all?

Be sure to include your children in all aspects of your life and help them learn to be independent. Trust and respect them. Make sure your partner is willing and able to actively do their share of the parenting.

Sometimes it seems that peace and justice are impossible to achieve. What would you say to people who feel that they do not have the power to make a difference?

As expressed in Beverly Grant’s moving song, “Together, we can move mountains. Alone, we can’t move at all!”

Photos courtesy of Leyla McCalla (by Laura E. Partain) and Barbara Dane.

BGS 5+5: Michael Johnathon

Posted on by Editor

Artist: Michael Johnathon, host of Woodsongs Old-Time Radio Hour
Hometown: Upstate New York
Latest Album: Afterburn: Folk at Arena Level

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

To use music to help build a front porch around the world. We need that right now. To help music lovers find a new, defined direction for their music. Music doesn’t have to be your livelihood to be a powerful part of your life. To gather the global community of front porch-minded musicians and help them do good work, bring roots music education into schools free of charge, and enhance communities by redirecting the tremendous energies of local musicians.

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

All of it, really. I’ve written five books, a children’s book I illustrated myself, I had a published cartoon strip in 17 newspapers, written three movie scripts and, during the pandemic, took up oil painting. Obviously I have a syndicated radio and TV broadcast as well, so it is a tapestry of art. I’ve written plays and even an opera about the day Woody Guthrie wrote “This Land Is Your Land.”

As a musician and artist, what are some of the ways you like to give back to the community?

That’s hard to explain. And I offer this not in the spirit of boasting but to encourage other artists to look past their vision of “stardom” and see instead the value of doing good work with their music. It is better than a hit record. I created the SongFarmers community to help musicians the music business left behind; there are now 89 active chapters across America and Ireland. I created the WoodSongs Artist Gathering to help poets, painters, authors and songwriters find encouragement and feel like their efforts have value; so far 19 events have happened or are being organized. We have over 1,000 WoodSongs broadcasts that I consider an education into America’s front porch, so we attached lesson plans for classrooms and homeschool parents to introduce this rural heritage to their kids, all free.

I’ve performed hundreds of concerts for the homeless, the environment, farm families, battered women and children, concerts about the earth and nature as well as teenage suicide. This year tornados destroyed much of Western Kentucky and I used the WoodSongs community to collect nearly 1,000 instruments to give musicians in the region who lost everything, all for free. A few months later, floods destroyed much of Appalachia and again collected hundreds of guitars, banjos, flutes and more and gave them out free to musicians in the mountains. Recently I launched another volunteer-run project to welcome young musicians to our front porch world called WoodSongs Kids, sort of a Mr. Rogers meets the Grand Ole Opry.

Which artist has influenced you the most … and how?

I think without a doubt Pete Seeger. Perhaps not so much musically; my style is much different from his, but his vision for music, community, using song for a purpose other than “selling” things. He was my neighbor on the mountain along Rt. 9D by the Hudson River in New York, although I really didn’t understand who he was. Just a pleasant fellow who claimed to be a musician … but played the banjo. I gravitated to the musicians in his orbit as well, folks like Harry Chapin, Arlo Guthrie, Roger McGuinn, Odetta, Libby Cotton, Don McLean and others. I found his log cabin life, the rustic lifestyle, and organic thinking very close to my own. Certainly Henry David Thoreau and Vincent van Gogh have been major wellsprings of imagination for me.

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

As I write this, we are in preproduction for my new Garden of Time album. I approached the project completely backwards. I knew what the album title would be; I even designed the album art. I had everything ready except writing the actual title song. “Garden of Time” was going to be about Vincent van Gogh’s final day in the summer of 1890. But I couldn’t grab the song, it was beyond me. So I got in my car and went to the Detroit Institute of Art to see the 26 original canvases of van Gogh. To stand in front of the actual paintings, in the same space he stood with his brush in hand, was very moving. I got back home to my log cabin, fired up the wood stove, and “Garden of Time” was born in 10 minutes.

Photo Credit: WoodSongs/Larry Neuzel

The BGS Radio Hour – Episode 215

Posted on by Shelby Williamson

Welcome to the BGS Radio Hour! Since 2017, this weekly radio show and podcast has been a recap of all the great music, new and old, featured on the digital pages of BGS. This week, the Radio Hour features a song that reclaims the image of the magnolia tree, we enjoy some blues and southern rock from folks like Charlie Parr, Christone “Kingfish” Ingram, and Larkin Poe, plus hear a “Wichita Lineman” cover by Colin Hay, and much more.

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Gregory Alan Isakov – “Salt And The Sea”

To celebrate the birthday of Dualtone Music Group, Gregory Alan Isakov covers The Lumineers’ “Salt And The Sea” on a new compilation record, Amerikinda: 20 Years of Dualtone, which features many of Dualtone’s artists from the past and the present performing each other’s songs in a whimsical, jovial tribute to the work and achievements of this beloved record company.


Adia Victoria – “Magnolia Blues”

On a new track inspired by the last year and its intentional pausing, Adia Victoria explores the magnolia as a symbol of the South: “The magnolia has stood as an integral symbol of Southern myth making, romanticism, the Lost Cause of the Confederates and the white washing of Southern memory. ‘Magnolia Blues’ is a reclaiming of the magnolia…”

Jim Lauderdale – “Memory”

One of the most eloquent tracks on Jim Lauderdale’s new album Hope — a collection reminiscent of dreamy ‘70s folk rock records — celebrates the legendary Grateful Dead lyricist Robert Hunter, a longtime friend and collaborator of Lauderdale’s who died in 2019. As one of the final songs they wrote together, “Memory” arrived on June 22, just one day before what would’ve been Hunter’s 80th birthday.

Carrie Newcomer – “A Long Way Up”

We caught up with singer-songwriter Carrie Newcomer for a 5+5 — that’s five questions and five songs — on growing up creative, writing stories, poetry, and essays, taking comfort in nature and its imagery, and more.

Larkin Poe & Nu Deco Ensemble – “Every Bird That Flies”

Larkin Poe grew up drawing inspiration from a wide range of genres, so they always dreamt of honoring their classical upbringing with orchestral arrangements of their music. Their first ever live album features Nu Deco Ensemble combining those classical elements with Larkin Poe’s Americana, blues, and Southern rock songs.”In hearing our Roots Rock ‘n’ Roll repertoire reinterpreted through an orchestral lens, it felt like a creative circle was being completed.”

Christone “Kingfish” Ingram – “Too Young to Remember”

Christone “Kingfish” Ingram seemed to come out of nowhere with his 2019 Alligator Records debut, Kingfish. At 20 years old, the native of Clarksdale, Mississippi, emerged as a fully-formed guitarist, vocalist, and songwriter and was quickly hailed as a defining blues voice of his generation. Now his new record, 662, pays tribute to his upbringing and his home turf.

Jesse Lynn Madera – “Revel”

Jesse Lynn Madera has written a lot of sad, emotional songs, but writing “Revel” changed the way she approaches songwriting, recognizing the opportunity artists have to positively impact a person. She reflects, “Being human is rollercoaster enough without a pandemic to further complicate the experience. We’ve all suffered through our share, and hopefully we’ve all experienced the sun coming up over the horizon of despair. This will be no exception. The glow shall return, and we’ll all be reveling in it.”

Charlie Parr – “Last of the Better Days Ahead”

Blues picker Charlie Parr reflects on the days he’s currently living in on “Last of the Better Days Ahead.” As he tells us: “I’m getting on in years, experiencing a shift in perspective that was once described by my mom as ‘a time when we turn from gazing into the future to gazing back at the past…'”

Colin Hay – “Wichita Lineman”

“Wichita Lineman” was the first song where Colin Hay (of Men at Work) realized the importance of the written song, in and of itself. He tells us the song “spoke of things I could only wonder at. The geographical vastness of the land, the hopes and dreams of the man working the line, and indeed of all people who inhabit this country. And, a love story contained within achingly beautiful music and melody. I can’t think of a better song.”

Dillbilly – “Countries”

For a big part of their life, Dillbilly grew up feeling like country and bluegrass were genres that they could never be a part of even though the music has always felt like home. But in writing “Countries,” it felt so good for them to lean into those roots.

The Isaacs – “Turn, Turn, Turn”

Powerhouse bluegrass (and beyond) family The Isaacs have returned with new music, including their rendition of a Pete Seeger classic that Lily Isaacs recalls from her days of growing up as a folk music fan in 1960s New York City.

Photos: (L to R) Larkin Poe by Josh Kranich; Charlie Parr by Shelly Mosman; Adia Victoria by Huy Nguyen

LISTEN: The Isaacs, “Turn! Turn! Turn!”

Posted on by Editor

Artist: The Isaacs
Hometown: Hendersonville, Tennessee
Song: “Turn! Turn! Turn!”
Album: The American Face
Release Date: August 13, 2021
Label: House of Isaacs

In Their Words: “When selecting cover songs for our project, The American Face, one of my first suggestions was the song ‘Turn! Turn! Turn!’ Growing up in New York City in the ’60s, I was a big folk music fan. I had a folk album out on Columbia Records in 1968, so I followed so much of that scene. The song was taken from Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 and seemed like such an appropriate song for nowadays. It was written by Pete Seeger in 1959 and released in 1965 by the Byrds. Once my family and I listened to the song, we just knew we had to record it. We wanted to do the song with The Isaacs feel to it. So, we tried to build the song with harmonies throughout the lyrics. It certainly brought back so many memories to me personally… living through the music era in the ’60s, which was such a turning point in history. An exciting time in many ways.” — Lily Isaacs

Photo credit: Frederick Breedon

Folk Hero Reggie Harris Faces a Moment of Reckoning ‘On Solid Ground’

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Reggie Harris is a songwriter, storyteller, educator, and folk icon. No, literally. This year, Harris was awarded The Spirit of Folk Award from Folk Alliance International — as well as W.E.B. Du Bois Legacy Award by the Du Bois Legacy Festival in Great Barrington, Mass. His career as a folksinger has spanned four decades, with musical collaborators and activist compatriots such as Pete Seeger, Dr. Kim Harris, C.T. Vivian, Cathy Fink & Marcy Marxer, Greg Greenway, David Roth, and many more. BGS is proud to host Harris on the sixth episode of our Shout & Shine livestream series on Wednesday, June 23 at 4pm PDT / 7pm EDT. (Tune in here via the video player below, our YouTube channel, or our Facebook page.)

The joy and hope evident in Harris’ 2021 release, On Solid Ground, stem from a rooted sense of perseverance and from his intentional decision to face each and every moment, in the moment, and to find hope within each. It’s why such heavy topics don’t feel gargantuan or burdensome as they make appearances and anchor songs on the album. Harris, watching the social, political, and racial reckonings that bubbled onto the sidewalks and streets of every city in America over the course of the last year, didn’t sit down or give up in the face of the unclimbable summit of translating that reckoning into song. 

Instead, Harris draws upon the wisdom, insight, and hope given to him by his own elders and communities throughout On Solid Ground. In choosing to keep himself open in each moment, Harris found himself receiving inspiration, nuggets of ideas and stories, glimpses of songs and arrangements in so many of those moments, simply because he was there, with a still heart and still soul, to receive them.

On Solid Ground feels solid and grounded, but also soars – unencumbered by whatever aspects of its content and lyrics might be perceived as pitfalls or minefields to so many. Harris, as only a folksinger-storyteller can, weaves a reality that can indeed rise to the occasion of this twenty-first century civil rights movement. We just have to choose to be present to usher in that reality — which, it’s important to note, will have an excellent soundtrack.

BGS caught up with Reggie Harris over the phone on May 28, Memorial Day weekend and the 100th anniversary of the Tulsa Massacre.

BGS: I wanted to start off with “It’s Who We Are,” which leads off the album. It makes the point that the political and social turmoil of the last few years aren’t really anything new, but rather are pretty natural outgrowths of who we’ve always been — as a culture and as a society. I wonder if you could talk a little bit about why you wanted to reinforce that point and kick off your album with that song? You’re making the point that this isn’t an aberration, this is who we are. 

RH: [Laughs] I do a lot of work, a lot of educational and historical performing — both in schools and around the country — and the question always comes up, with audiences of all ages, “How far have we come?” And, “Who are we?” These things happen around the country, incidents like George Floyd and Breonna Taylor, and also the incident in New York City with the Coopers — Amy Cooper and [Black birder, Christian Cooper]. People are constantly tweeting as if [these incidents] are one-offs, that each is an aberration. So I’d been working on writing a song for a while that basically says our nation was founded with white supremacy and racial issues from the very beginning. And we have been struggling with that. Obviously, we have made some progress over time, but we see that these things are so temporary — and the proliferation of them over the last two years particularly, and through the pandemic, really brought it to the fore. 

I kept looking at all of that, and I started writing that song– I’m not a writer that likes to just put things out there, constantly pointing out all the difficult and sometimes dangerous events. I love to tie into hope and I couldn’t talk my way through it. I wrote about twenty-seven verses. And it was getting more and more dark all the time! [Laughs] 

Even this week, we’re acknowledging the massacre in Tulsa, Oklahoma, a hundred years ago. All of those — there are so many of those incidents and events, I really wanted to say, “Yes. This is our legacy, this really is who we are.” But, there is something about what is happening, particularly with young people, particularly in the last year. So, when I saw people flooding into the streets all across the nation, in Portland, Louisville, and all these places I saw the diversity of faces and the diversity of ages. I thought, “You know, something has changed.” We’ve had a lot of false starts in our nation, but that became the critical point when I sing, “Yes, we can change! / Reshape the future of our reality.” We can define ourselves. Any way we choose to.

I have to admit, when I finished recording the song, I turned to Greg Greenway, my co-producer, and said, “I don’t know if I want to put this first.” [Laughs] We went back and forth and back and forth and finally — I was actually going to begin with Malvina Reynolds’ “It Isn’t Nice” and Greg turned to me one day and said, “No, this is the album statement. I think we gotta just put it out there.” And I said yes, and there you go! You need to have some courage in the work that you do. I’ve been looking to people like C.T. Vivian and John Lewis and all the sacrifices that people like Fannie Lou Hamer made. And all the amazing icons of civil rights history. 

As I was thinking about this point — that this is exactly who we are and always have been — I was listening to “Let’s Meet Up Early,” and there’s a lyric, “It ain’t no mystery… don’t try to act surprised.” 

[Laughs]

So this is a point you are making indelibly across the record! [Laughs]

Yes, well it is. And this came out of about three weeks of just sitting at home, watching the nation unravel. I wrote “On Solid Ground,” because that’s kind of where I live, you know, in the spirituals, saying that we can make it through this, we can persevere. But we can’t make it through it if we don’t acknowledge it. 

Exactly.

I’m glad you bring up perseverance, because something I find striking about the record is that even though the songs do feel that they carry strong messages and morals, and explicit calls for justice and equity — and perseverance — they don’t feel too heavy, they don’t feel burdened by the gravity of the issues they confront. Like, “Maybe It’s Love” is very whimsical and wry and sweet. And you just mentioned “On Solid Ground,” which is gorgeous, but really also fun, a cappella, bouncy and bubbly with cheer. How do you strike that balance, when you’re thinking about writing music that has a strong sense of conviction like this, but you do want it to also evoke hope and joy?

I feel very blessed to have come up in a community in Philadelphia and throughout that demonstrated having hope. The folks that I grew up with, in Philadelphia, my elders, and then as I progressed not only as a person, but as a musician I have had such amazing [role models]. If you look at the musicians — and all those folks in my community, they’d sing, “Ain’t gonna let nobody turn me ‘round!” And, “Oh, Freedom:” “Before I’d be a slave/ I’d be buried in my grave/” 

One day we will be free. And we’re going to keep working at this. 

We had C.T. Vivian at a conference I helped to put on in 2015 and he said, “We knew that we were working for something bigger than ourselves. We knew that we needed to have good leadership — and we did. We knew that we were working in the frame of love. For something, not against.” I try to keep those messages at the forefront of my writing, at the forefront of my performing. I know that a lot of white Americans have trouble embracing a lot of this because it brings up a lot of guilt, or it brings up this feeling there’s this huge thing you weren’t aware of. I just want to say to people: There are forces and systems that are trying to make sure you don’t know about this stuff. You’re not to blame for not knowing, but once you know — I think it was Maya Angelou that said, “When you know better you do better.” [Laughs] 

I look at that and my own role in this is just to pass along what was given to me. I came up in a community that understood the nature of perseverance, that understood the nature of hope and working towards hope realizing that you’re not going to get everything at once. But, you might get some of it and then you pass that along. I think the songs, for me, are conduits to giving away this gift that I’ve been given. As I write I just always try to remember that people always gave me hope – and they did it mostly through songs. 

As I was reading some of the song inspirations and contexts in the liner notes, I noticed you seem to really keep yourself so open to inspiration and new song ideas. You mention that “Come What May” came to you right after one of your regular livestreams and you began writing “Tree of Life” you were teaching. How do you keep your mind — and your heart — open to those kernels of inspirations, when new song ideas present themselves to you?

I’m not a writer who’s working at it all the time. I know friends of mine, folks who sit down every day and they either write a song or they tape something. I’ve never been that way, I really have kind of evolved into a person who’s eyes-wide-open in the moment. I’m very much focused on what’s happening around me and focused on noticing those opportunities. That’s one of the things that doing a lot of work with kids [has honed]. You really have to be present with kids. [Laughs] You come in with an idea of what you want to do, but if it feels at all like you aren’t including them or that you aren’t present, they’ll entertain themselves! I think I’ve developed a real sense of being in the moment, being charged with seeing those small windows of opportunity. Of course, I had a lot more of them in the pandemic! [Laughs] At home an unbelievably impressive amount of time. 

A lot of it is also balancing. I’m very careful not to watch the news early in the day. I think my liver transplant, in 2008, really shifted me, in a way. It changed the temperature of my observations in the world. I think that it’s really benefited my writing, because as I approach life living hour by hour, I notice things. I live out in the country, so I have time and atmosphere to hear myself think. Particularly with the time I started writing the album, right at the end of March [2020]. I’m kind of in my own element, I’m watching, carefully and selectively, what’s happening in the world, but I’m also in an environment where my heart and soul could get quiet. I love what happens when those two things occur. It allows me to then go to that other place and to find the message. 

A lot of times when you start to write a song, you think you know what you’re going to say. [Laughs] And the song has another idea altogether! It might be pulling things out of your subconscious you might have been working on for months — or years! It could be a thought I jotted down in my journal, or some phrase that I had been playing with. I think, for several of the songs, I was doing these online performances and it could just be the look in some peoples’ eyes as I sang a song. Or some comment someone would leave. Someone once said, “I wasn’t going to tune in, but you look hopeful.” I thought, “Wow, what a responsibility.” I try to carry that responsibility and be accountable for not making things… harder than the world. 

Lead photo: Courtesy of Reggie Harris
Inset photo: Anthony Salamone

The Show on the Road – Ani DiFranco

Posted on by Shelby Williamson

This week on The Show On The Road, we bring you a truly inspiring talk with the activist, author, and free-spirited feminist folk icon Ani DiFranco, who just released her lushly orchestrated twenty-second album: Revolutionary Love.

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Many things have been said about the music Ani DiFranco has created for the last thirty years since she burst on the scene with her fiery self-titled LP in 1990. With her shaved head on the cover, fearlessly bisexual love songs, dexterous guitar work and hold-no-prisoners lyrics sparing no one from her poetic magnifying glass, DiFranco’s persona became almost synonymous with a rejuvenated women’s movement that blossomed in the late-1990’s Lilith Fair moment. And yet she was always a bit more committed to the cause than some of her more pop-leaning contemporaries, who faded away as soon as their hits subsided.

Framing herself somewhere between the rebellious folk-singing teacher Pete Seeger and the gender-fluid show-stopping rock spirit in Prince, (who she recorded with after he became a fan,) DiFranco was always just as passionate about raising awareness for abortion rights, ensuring safety for gay and trans youth and bringing music to prisons, as she was promoting her latest musical experiment. She began playing publicly around age ten, and as a nineteen-year-old runaway from Buffalo, NY, she started her own label, Righteous Babe Records, that allowed her to operate free of corporate (and overwhelmingly male) oversight. Indeed, despite gaining a wide international fanbase she has released every album herself since the beginning — as well as championing genre-defying songwriters like Andrew Bird, Anaïs Mitchell, Utah Philips, and others. It was DiFranco’s encouragement that helped Mitchell’s opus Hadestown become a Tony-winning Broadway smash. DiFranco may have been deemed a bit too left-of-center for pop radio, but her beloved 1997 live record Living In Clip went gold.

Let’s get something out of the way real quick: was this male podcast host initially a bit intimidated to dive into her encyclopedic album collection after admiring her work from afar and believing the songs were not meant for his ears? Indeed. I grew up with girlfriends and fellow musicians who rocked Ani’s Righteous Babe pins and patches on their jean jackets like they were religious ornaments. What I found during this mind-bending conversation, and after listening to her polished and mystical newest record especially, was that DiFranco has never tried to push away people that don’t look or talk like her — or tried to mock or belittle conservative movements she doesn’t agree with or understand. There is a deep kindness and empathy in her songwriting that I never expected and in her 2019 autobiography, No Walls And The Recurring Dream, she acknowledges how lonely and exhausting it can be trying to fight against a societal tide that doesn’t want to stop and give you space to be who you are.

What became increasingly clear during our conversation was that DiFranco wants to make music for everyone. She prides herself on her quirky, multi-generational fanbase — with grandparents and kids, dads and sons, daughters and aunties alike singing along to favorites like “Both Hands,” “Untouchable Face,” and covers like Woody Guthrie’s “This Land Is Your Land” at packed shows across three continents.

I had my own goosebumps-inducing moment singing with Ani that I’ll never forget. The oldest folk festival in America, The Ann Arbor Folk Fest, once put me on stage to sing harmony on “Angel From Montgomery” with DiFranco at the acoustically perfect Hill Auditorium. I attended the University Of Michigan years earlier and I saw John Prine sing that classic in that same room, and it felt like a full circle moment. Seeing how DiFranco transfixed the crowd that night, and how the women songwriters and musicians offstage especially watched her with such admiration made me want to see what her music — which I had never fully listened to — was all about.

If you have a chance, listen to Revolutionary Love start to finish, and stick around to the end of the episode to hear DiFranco read lyrics as poetry.

Photo credit: Daymon Gardner

True to Her Activist Roots, Folk Legend Peggy Seeger Still Longs for Peace (Part 2 of 2)

Posted on by Editor

At 85 years old, Peggy Seeger stands as one of the most accomplished figures in folk music. She has recorded 25 solo albums, plus dozens more with her late husband, Ewan MacColl, along with collaborations with her siblings and generations of other folk musicians. She is a multi-instrumentalist who has edited and compiled folk music anthologies, and she ran a well-known magazine featuring contemporary songs for 20 years. All that while touring, writing more than 200 songs, raising three children and serving as an immoveable force for peace and human rights. And hers was the face that inspired MacColl to write “The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face.”

From her home in England, Seeger spoke to BGS about her new album, First Farewell, and what that title really means.

(Editor’s Note: Read the first of our two-part Artist of the Month interview with Peggy Seeger.)

BGS: You wrote “How I Long for Peace” 20 years ago, but it’s really appropriate now. Can you talk about it?

When we decided to make a new CD, my son Calum had me sing to him any song that I hadn’t recorded. Because I lived in the United States for 16 years and wasn’t touring England, I wrote quite a number of songs that my kids never heard. “How I Long for Peace” was one of those. And when Calum heard it, he loved it. So, it went on the album, and so many people are commenting on it. It’s kind of like a hymn, and it has a very singable chorus, and it ties up nations and politics with climate change and the plunder of the planet. When I sing it, I feel such a longing in my heart. I feel the violence of the world. We’ve just had a horrendous murder here. In this country, a young girl who was walking home by herself disappeared. She was found two counties away in a woods. And there’s been a tremendous uprising here on the part of women. But it’s not until men uprise against this that it’ll ever be changed.

Can you talk about the project’s title, First Farewell?

I remember my brother Mike, who was with New Lost City Ramblers — once they broke up they had an annual farewell concert every year. I thought that was marvelously funny. So, I thought First Farewell will make people think. But it’s based on the two farewells that you give at the airport. You know, if you stay to wave goodbye to the person at our airport, you hug, and then they go through where only passengers are allowed. And they walk about 40 yards away, and then they turn to the right. So, the first farewell is the hug, and there is a second farewell where they wave goodbye just before they turn that corner.

In lots of ways at my age, I’m saying farewell to a lot of things, almost daily. When you’re my age, you see your body doing this, doing that, and you feel you’re slowly decaying. And it gives you a new feeling of togetherness with nature. I really have more of an attachment to nature and the birds and the daffodils and the trees than ever I did before. And I’m doing a lot of listening to books about nature. I’m beginning to feel that humanity is this very, very powerful paper-thin sandwich filling between what happens above the earth and below the earth, and we are just this kind of bacteria that is sitting along the edge of the earth. [Laughs]

Because I do feel that nature is calling us. Nature realizes that we are a danger. The same way as we’re trying to get rid of COVID, nature’s trying to get rid of us. And power to her if that’s her best way of teaching us anything, because we don’t learn at all. We just repeat everything that we’ve done before. But the first farewell is the recognition that I am near the goalpost. And within sight of the goalpost. I’ve been running like hell. But I run more slowly now.

Why did you move back to the United States in 2006, and then why did you return to Great Britain?

A tumultuous love affair brought me here permanently in 1959. I became a British subject in 1959 and settled down here. After Ewan MacColl died, 30 years ago, I had a new partner, a woman, my best friend, the only person that I’ve been head over heels in love with. And after four or five years, I had an incredible urge to go to America to find out who I had been before I came here – because I was a child when I moved here. And I immediately became totally involved in England. I grew up in England from age 24 and 54. That’s when I really became an adult. (I shouldn’t say that, because I’m not an adult yet.)

In 1994, I got this terrific urge to go back to America. I wanted my partner to come with me, but she couldn’t. So, I said, I’ll go and see what it’s like. It was the first time I’d lived on my own ever in my life. I toured America endlessly for 16 years. Then I began to realize that I really, really, really missed my kids. So, I just felt that urge to come back here. And now that I’m back here, I’m so glad I came back.

My children live in three corners of London. I can reach any of them in two hours. We talk on the phone, and I’m part of my family that I created again. My American family is very big, but very scattered. And the ones that I was really attached to are all gone. So, what made me move back was a gut feeling of where I belonged. And it’s so wonderful that my children are helping. They’re making it possible for me to keep going.

What do you see as the bright spots in today’s political and social movements? What gives you hope?

On all of the really big issues, what’s happening is small grassroots groups. People who want something done, want something changed, want something different are realizing that the government says it will take care of it — but it doesn’t. So, small groups are forming everywhere, saying, “We have to do this ourselves because our government is not doing it.” I’m part of a group like that here where I live, near the edge of Oxford. And Oxford has just spread and spread and spread and spread until it has incorporated one beautiful old village and then another old village. Then they become surrounded with new housing. And they have taken away the green land, taken away the beauty of the old villages.

I live in an old village called Iffley. Its church was built in the 1100s. And since 1964, 16 of its green spaces have been sequestered for housing. Plunk, they put 20 houses here; plunk, they put 50 houses there. Well, there are four acres left, two ancient fields that have not been touched for 1000 years. And our council wants to put 50 houses on them. I’m part of a group that is acting out of incandescent rage at this. If the housing is put in, it will be the end of our village – the end of it. I’ve always tried to be part of a small group that does something locally.

Parting words?

I’d like to thank you for the attention you gave to Laurie Lewis, because she is so good. She’s wonderful. I love that kind of music. I really, really do. And it’s something that I really miss over here, joining in on the radio with all of that wonderful singing that you can sing along with. I do miss the whole American scene, I do. But I’m a Gemini and I’ve chosen one of my twins, so I live here.

What I would like to say is that I have been very privileged in my life, extremely privileged, unlike a lot of people who need to struggle to make their names recognized. My name was recognizable due to my brother Pete, and my mother, my father. And I came at the end of other musicians who had smoothed the path out for me. I have had every possible advantage: two wonderful life partners, both of whom contributed to my career, and who have pushed me on and helped me. And children who don’t hate me! [Laughs] And a country that I kind of understand.

And enough money that I’m not in need in my old age. “First Time Ever I Saw Your Face” brings in a reasonable amount of income. People still hear it all over the place with some very funny covers. Oh, my god, it’s been covered over 400 times that we know of. There’s a rap version. There’s a country and western version. There’s a gospel version. There’s what I call a barbeque quartets version. There’s one with Scruggs banjo on it. I am just so fortunate, and I’m thankful that I’m being given an old age that makes me visible and worthwhile.

(Editor’s Note: Read the first of our two-part Artist of the Month interview with Peggy Seeger.)

Photo credit: Vicki Sharp

Peggy Seeger Gathers Her Created Family for ‘First Farewell’ (Part 1 of 2)

Posted on by Editor

Peggy Seeger began her life surrounded by brilliant and groundbreaking musicians: a mother who was an internationally known composer; an ethnomusicologist father; half-brother Pete, legendary for both his songs and his political courage; brother Mike, musician and song-catcher. In the latter years of her career, she is making music with what she calls her “created” family — her three children who share her delight in songwriting and performing.

Like Pete, Peggy was an outspoken leftist who was blacklisted in the 1950s, and she has never stopped speaking her mind through lectures, interviews, and her music. On the occasion of her newest release, First Farewell, we were honored to speak with her from her present home near Oxford, England. Here is the first of our two-part interview with BGS Artist of the Month, Peggy Seeger. You can read part two here.

BGS: Listening to your new recording, I was struck by how beautiful your voice is. Do you have to work at keeping it that way?

Seeger: I don’t feel it’s beautiful. It’s so reduced from what it used to be. What’s happened is I’ve moved down into the lower ranges where it’s more vibrant. And there I can, for some reason, feel more emotionally connected. I practice every day. I actually sit down and sing as if I’m giving a concert every day. It’s like any muscle: if you keep it to keep it working, you won’t lose it. And I walk every day. And I walk quite fast, so sometimes I get out of breath. You need to build your lung capacity. I’m pleased that you think it’s beautiful. I never thought it was.

What prompted you to create this new album?

My children have realized that there’s nothing else that I enjoy as much as singing. I don’t have any other way of expressing myself. I don’t cook well. I do make sourdough bread. … Five years ago, they asked me what I wanted for my 80th birthday, and I said I want to tour with my two sons. They said they would do a week of touring – and it worked out to be 16 days. But they said we needed an album to tour with. So that was when we recorded my previous album called Everything Changes, and I realized how strong it is, working with an entire family network.

Everyone in my created family one generation down is involved: my two sons, my daughter and two daughters-in-law perform all that I need: a manager, a minder, accompaniment, co-writing, graphics. It’s all there, including doing the recording. If you’re a singer for a living you need to put out a new recording periodically. And so that’s what we did [with this new project]. We took a couple of songs that were quite old. “The Tree of Love” I made up about 10 years ago; “How I Long for Peace” I made up 20 years ago and never recorded. “Gotta Get Home by Midnight,” that was created strictly to be an encore. Now, that’s about the most egotistical reason! We had about 20 songs, and we just chose what was best for this album.

Can you talk about the song “The Invisible Woman”?

That was written with my son Neill. When he came to work with me on a song, we just looked at each other and said, “What should we write about?” And neither of us jumped at anything. So, then we started talking about our joint lives. He’s 61. And he said, “You know, Mum, I’m beginning to feel invisible.” It worked out that young women weren’t interested in him anymore. You know, in actual fact, they are. It’s just that he doesn’t necessarily sense it. So, I said, “Try being an 85-year-old woman, if you want to be invisible.” Because, you know, as older women, the baby factory is shut. We’re redundant as far as productive units are concerned. So, what have we got to offer? We’re not looked on as wise. We’re shunted off, and we have been ever since we’ve been living under a patriarchal system.

Do you visualize any specific incidents from your life when you think about that song?

Well, of course, I am both visible and invisible. I’m visible in in my career, although folk music is a fringe music. It’s not way up there like classical music, and it’s not so broad or in-your-face as pop music. So, I am visible in that field. But the minute I walk out in the city, or when I’m just a member of the public, I’m invisible. Occasionally a nice man will ask if I want help crossing the street. I became aware of this once when I was walking with my daughter. She was absolutely dressed to the nines. She would have been 20 or 25, so I would have been in my 60s. And we kept passing men who would do this: They’d look at me and they’d see my hair and then they’d look immediately to her and go like that [rolls her head up and down and up]. Their eyes were on her. They were not on me. Yeah, I’m very grateful for that. I’m tired of being under male scrutiny. From age 15 to about the age of 45, I put up with the groping and being pushed up against a wall. And I’ve had it! They don’t do that anymore. I’m an old woman and I don’t mind at all.

I imagined folk music as being, in a way, above gender discrimination.

Folk music is no way free of gender discrimination. It is packed with it. Full of it, hugely full of it. In the music, women are dismissed. We are victims. In some of the folk songs we were sent off for nagging our husbands. We were battered and beaten in some of the songs. Women were left with children in their arms. We were endless victims. I have a three-hour lecture on the position of women in folk songs. And it is despairing. And some of it is so outright misogynistic.

There was a song Pete used to sing, and he thought it was funny. At one point, before I became a feminist, I thought it was funny.

Oh, I had a wife and got no good of her,
Here is how I easy got rid of her,
Took her out and chopped the head off her
Early in the morning.

Seeing as how there was no evidence
For the sheriff or his reverence
They had to call it an act of Providence
Early in the morning.

So, if you have a wife and get no good of her
Here is how you easy get rid of her
Take her out and chop the head off her
Early in the morning.

It was so vicious that it was funny. You couldn’t believe that anybody would sing about this. So, if we really look at a lot of the content of the songs, women are just handed from man to man and were killed by a lot of the men. And a lot of the folk songs actually document real murders, like “Ellen Smith” and “Omie Wise” and “Pretty Polly,” and the other ones like Laura Foster in “Tom Dooley.” Endless murders — especially after we get pregnant. I still love the songs unfortunately. To me, they’re historic pieces. And they talk about what we’re battling now.

Your album sounds like you’re acknowledging loss, and at the same time, acknowledging contentment. Is that a fair characterization?

Well, people in my family who lived to the age of 85 generally live into our 90s. So, I’m looking at maybe another, hopefully, 10 or 15 years of life. And the recognition and acceptance of that makes a whole new frame of life. You live differently with that. I have mental snapshots of my past. I have oceans of them. So, the pictures in my head and what I’ve learned and experienced just flow back and forth with the tides.

That’s where songs like “Dandelion and Clover” come from. I didn’t set out to make a song about memory with “Dandelion and Clover.” All of a sudden, the thought of a little boy coming to our kitchen door just flew into my head. He died when he was 8. He had a seizure on the schoolroom floor. He and I used to sit out in the field — there was a four-leaf clover field. We’d sit out there and talk about marriage and having babies when we were 8. And then the tragedy of him dying … but I didn’t feel it was a tragedy because I knew he was going to come back and marry me because I was told that’s what he would do.

In writing we try to marry up opposites or marry up correlated subjects, as in the song “Lubrication.” Or marry up diverging thoughts as in “How I Long for Peace,” contrasting peace with acts of violence and profit and greed. And to put those into a quiet, peaceful song.

What has it meant for you to be, as you say, in lockdown?

Nothing, because I’m a hermit anyway. I miss going into town, I miss going to the hairdresser. I miss going shopping, because other people shop for me, although now I’ve had two vaccine shots. So, I think I’m going to start shopping for myself again. But I’ve always been a hermit, I’m happy with my own company. My partner lives in New Zealand and I haven’t seen her for two years, because of COVID. And we’re not compatible for living together. So, I live on my own. I take care of myself. I keep busy. My god, I keep busy. There’s so much to do. And I talk to nice people like you.

(Editor’s Note: Read part two of our Artist of the Month interview here.)

Photo credit: Vicki Sharp

Artist of the Month: Peggy Seeger

Posted on by Editor

Peggy Seeger is saying goodbye to recording and the road with First Farewell, which she’s considering her likely final album in a career spanning seven decades. A folk legend in her own right, Seeger comes from a sterling musical pedigree, and she’s ensuring that lineage continues by enlisting her sons Neill and Calum MacColl to join her on the album.

Seeger’s reemergence is marked by “The Invisible Woman,” immersed in a perspective that anyone of a certain age can understand. Upon its release, she noted, “My older son Neill MacColl was hesitant for ages about co-writing with me. He turned up at my home one day, laid his 6’1” self along my two-seater sofa and laconically offered a possible subject for a song. ‘The Invisible Woman’ strolled in gradually, wearing clown shoes and lace underwear. We ended up with a song that expressed an uncomfortable new feeling that was creeping up on us both, but that echoed the folk songs that I’d sung to him since birth.”

For dedicated fans of folk music, Seeger remains an important figure in a family that shaped the modern folk era. Her mother, Ruth Crawford Seeger, is a notable composer who was the first woman to be awarded the Guggenheim Fellowship Award for Music. Her rather, Charles Louis Seeger, did pioneering work in ethnomusicology at the University of California in Los Angeles, while her brother Mike Seeger and half-brother Pete Seeger carved out their own indelible careers in the folk framework. Peggy, though she was a child, may also be credited with discovering singer-guitarist Libba Cotten, who worked in the Seeger home.

At 85, Peggy Seeger stands as a folk icon in England and America, and if First Farewell is her swan song, she’s still making herself heard on topics ranging from suicide and loneliness, to social media and modern slavery. Fans in the UK can expect multiple tour dates to support the eloquent project. Our two-part, exclusive interview is available now (Read part one here. Read part two here.) and we hope you enjoy our Essential Peggy Seeger playlist, as well.

Photo credit: Vicki Sharp

Bluegrass Memoirs: Thanks to Eric Weissberg

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

On the morning of March 24, 2020 I learned Eric Weissberg had passed away when a friend posted a long and detailed obit. I found several other substantial ones online — Rolling Stone, Variety, New York Times. It wouldn’t surprise me to learn that Weissberg’s family had a press release ready; he’d been in decline, suffering from dementia. A few days later Jim Rooney posted a very moving memoir focused on his long-time friend Weissberg in mid- and late years; it shed more light on this influential musician. 

Recently Bob Carlin finished a bio on Weissberg. When we spoke at IBMA’s business conference last fall he told me publishers weren’t interested in a book about a studio musician. Too bad, it’s a good story. In 1972 Weissberg won a Grammy for the banjo hit that propelled the growth of bluegrass festivals, “Dueling Banjos,” the theme from the movie Deliverance. 

I first heard Weissberg’s banjo playing in the fall of 1957. I was an 18-year old Oberlin College freshman who’d gotten into folk music as a high school student in Berkeley, California. This was my first time “back east.” I now had classmates from New York City. One of them, Mike Lipsky, had a new Folkways album, American Banjo Scruggs Style. The final band on the second side was by a friend of his from New York, Eric. 

Weissberg was 17 when he recorded for Folkways, backed by Mike Seeger and Ralph Rinzler. He picked a medley of “Jesse James” and Woody Guthrie’s “Hard Ain’t It Hard,” using Scruggs pegs on the latter. When Lipsky played it to me and my roommate Mayne Smith (fellow Californian and a fledgling banjo picker) he had to explain what Scruggs pegs were. 

Lipsky knew about this music because he was one of a group of New York teenage folk music fans, mainly from elite high schools — Bronx Science, Brooklyn Tech, Music and Art — who socialized together. They’d networked not only in school, but also at leftist summer camps where folk music, spearheaded by Pete Seeger, was an essential part of the experience. They called themselves “The Squadron” and they gathered regularly in Greenwich Village on Sunday afternoons to hear two members of their crowd, Eric Weissberg and Marshall Brickman, picking at the Washington Square folk music jams. Weissberg, a student of Pete Seeger, had been playing the banjo since the age of ten.

Lipsky told us Weissberg and Marshall’s fancy picking confounded Roger Sprung, an older banjoist generally thought to be the best Scruggs picker in New York. And he described their banjos — not long-neck, open-back Vegas like Pete Seeger played, but Gibsons! With resonators, too. And on the fingerboard, down toward the body of the banjo, a little block of mother-of-pearl with “Mastertone” written on it.

This weirdness was all new to me. I’d never heard of “Scruggs picking,” and it was only when I borrowed the LP and read its notes, written by Ralph Rinzler, that I learned this music was called “bluegrass.” 

The following March, at spring vacation, my roommate and I went to New York. I stayed with Mike Lipsky, on this, my first visit to The City. Mayne stayed with another classmate. Among our many adventures — we were rambunctious teen tourists — we went one night to a party for The Squadron in a posh upper East Side residence. 

This was a homecoming party. Attending were young women and men most of whom were like us, on spring vacation from their first year as college and university students at a variety of institutions. Lipsky and Karen, another Oberlin classmate who was part of the group, introduced us to their friends. We’d brought our instruments, leaving them in the anteroom and going up a small flight of stairs to the main floor of this elaborate place. Eric Weissberg and Marshall Brickman, both of whom were freshmen at the University of Wisconsin, did the same. 

Midway through the evening we were encouraged to get our instruments out and sing. Mayne had his banjo — an old Stewart with a resonator — and I, my guitar — a 1943 Martin 000-21. We went back downstairs. This was the nearest thing to a front porch or back room we could find. We did several pieces, and then Weissberg and Brickman came down and got out their banjos. Mayne had taken one or two lessons with Billy Faier, the virtuoso banjoist who’d arrived in the Bay Area from New York the previous August. Faier had introduced him to three-finger picking. Mayne chatted about Scruggs with Eric and Marshall. 

Then they played a banjo duet, a Scruggs tune, “Earl’s Breakdown,” in harmony, with each picking with the right hand on his own banjo while reaching around to fret the strings on the neck of the other’s banjo. This was the first time we’d ever seen anyone play the banjo Scruggs style, much less a fancy stage stunt like that! It was a very impressive tour-de-force. You can get a good sense of what the harmony sounded like from the version on their 1963 Elektra album, New Dimensions in Banjo and Bluegrass (reissued in 1972 as Dueling Banjos from Deliverance) although they weren’t playing the fancy solo breaks in 1958.

Afterwards Weissberg told us that the best way to learn this music was to study Scruggs’ playing on one of his instrumental records like “Earl’s Breakdown” or “Flint Hill Special.” Mastering all those licks note-for-note would take you a long way towards being able to play like Earl.

Weissberg noticed that I was playing the guitar with just two picks on my fingers — thumb and index. He recommended that I add a pick on my middle finger, like he and Marshall used for the banjo. I followed that advice immediately, and the following year, when I began working seriously on banjo, I also took his advice about studying Scruggs closely.

Putting our instruments away, we went upstairs and joined the party. I conversed for a while with Eric. I told him I’d heard Billy Faier in Berkeley last summer, had been very impressed with his music, and was looking forward to his forthcoming Riverside album, The Art of the Five-String Banjo. Eric agreed, Faier is a great banjo player, and said he had collaborated with Billy and another banjo player, Dick Weissman, on an album due out this coming summer called Banjos, Banjos and More Banjos! 

That summer of 1958, Banjos, Banjos and More Banjos! arrived at Art Music on Telegraph in Berkeley where I hung out listening to new folk records. The album was on Judson, a bargain line label owned by Riverside’s Bill Grauer.

Grauer’s Riverside productions catered to the hip college kids of the fifties — a generation that grew up on hi-fi LPs. Riverside reissued historic prewar jazz and blues; released contemporary jazz and folk; and recorded sports car events. This major independent label ended abruptly in 1964 when Grauer, just 42, died. Their catalog is now with Concord Records, which has reissued some jazz recordings on CDs.

Riverside albums were well-produced, with glossy full-color cover art. Back covers — liners — had a standard format: bold head at the top with album title and artist names. Below it, three dense columns giving the playlist along with information about the music and musicians. Lots to read while listening!

Faier’s The Art of the Five-String Banjo liner held a full column endorsement by Pete Seeger, slightly longer notes by producer Goldstein, and Faier’s bio. In contrast the liner of Banjos, Banjos and More Banjos had its playlist followed by three columns of folklorist John Greenway’s flowery history of the instrument, and brief bios for the three banjoists. I bought the album (later reissued on Grauer’s Washington label with new cover and title: Five-String Jamboree: A Treasury of Banjo Music) because Eric Weissberg was playing Scruggs-style banjo on it.

At the bottom of the center column on the liners for both albums was the standard data of the time: 

A HIGH FIDELITY Recording (Audio Compensation; RIAA Curve). Produced by Kenneth S. Goldstein. Cover by Paul Weller (photography) and Paul Bacon (design). Engineer: Mel Kaiser (Cue Recordings). New York: May, 1957.

 Now I look back at the album, listen to it for the first time in years. When I last heard of Faier, about ten years ago, he was busking in Albuquerque. He died in Alpine, Texas in 2016. We’d seen each other and talked at the Tennessee Banjo Institute in November 1990, recalling the summer of 1958 when I guested on his KPFA show and worked as his backup guitarist at an SF coffee house. Dick Weissman, now 85, had distinguished careers: first as a performer, then as teacher and author. He published his memoir, The Music Never Stops: A Journey Into the Music of the Unknown, The Forgotten, The Rich & Famous, the same year Faier died.

These guys must have been in the Cue Recordings studio more than once in May, 1957. Their recordings were made with a single-track tape recorder; no overdubs. Faier made his solo album at Cue with Frank Hamilton playing guitar, and there’s one track on Banjos with that pairing — probably an outtake from The Art. Most of the other guitar on this album is by Dick Rosmini, then considered the hot, young, go-to guitar accompanist.

Weissberg is heard playing Scruggs-style banjo on five tracks, and singing tenor harmony in duets on three of those. One was an old spiritual, “You Can Dig My Grave,” with Faier. With Weissman, Eric harmonized on the old folksong “Chilly Winds.” My favorite was another spiritual, “Glory Glory.” This vocal duet with Rosmini featured great backup guitar and seven banjo breaks by Eric, each a new variation. I played that track a lot for my friends that summer!

He also did a reprise of his 1956 Folkways track, focusing on “Hard Ain’t It Hard” complete with Scruggs pegs, and a cool version of “900 Miles” in G minor tuning. 

Weissberg’s music spoke to me as a young folk fan just getting into bluegrass. He’d mastered the instrument in this new style, and learned the vocal style that went with it. Here he was applying it to music that I knew — Woody Guthrie songs, a tune the Weavers had sung on their famous Carnegie Hall concert album, and familiar Black spirituals. 

The door to bluegrass was newly opened. Eric Weissberg stood just inside, beckoning in. Come on, it’s not that hard, it’ll be fun.

Neil V. Rosenberg is an author, scholar, historian, banjo player, and Bluegrass Music Hall of Fame inductee.

Photo of Neil V. Rosenberg: Terri Thomson Rosenberg
Photo of Banjos, Banjos, and More Banjos: Neil V. Rosenberg