Tag: phish

John Mailander’s Improvisational Forecast Says ‘Let The World In’

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Whether or not you know it, you’ve likely heard John Mailander music. Chances are he’s even worked with one (or some) of your favorite artists, from Bruce Hornsby to Billy Strings, Noah Kahan, Joy Williams, Lucy Dacus, Molly Tuttle, and many more.

No disrespect to his work with the Noisemakers (who he’s toured with since 2018), or Strings’ GRAMMY-winning album Home, or any other projects, but it’s Mailander’s original works where his musical wizardry glows brightest. On his latest effort, Let the World In, his abilities are stronger than ever as he combines the influences from everyone he’s worked with into an adventure of orchestral bliss guided by trance-like, open-ended jazzy jams.

Helping Mailander to paint these soundscapes across nine tracks and 35 total minutes of run-time are his longtime band members in Forecast – Ethan Jodziewicz, Chris Lippincott, Mark Raudabaugh, Jake Stargel, David Williford – who he first started playing with during a Nashville residency at Dee’s Country Cocktail Lounge in 2019 to celebrate the release of his debut album of the same name. Through eight instrumental tracks (and a cover of Nick Drake’s “Road”) they send listeners on an introspective journey throughout Let the World In that brings the jazz leaning work of Hornsby and jam-fueled tendencies of Phish together, showing just how far he and Forecast have grown and evolved since first coming together.

“The first record was a blueprint, the second was settling into and discovering who we are, and this record is the most confident statement of who we are,” Mailander tells BGS. “Harmonies, colors, melodic themes, it can all be tied back to the first record in some way.”

Mailander spoke to us ahead of the album’s release about how all of his prior collaborative experiences set the stage for Let the World In to shine, writing on the piano, reality checks from recording, song sequencing, and more.

From your work with Billy Strings and Bruce Hornsby to your own music, you’ve always had a very collaborative way about you and this new record is no exception. What are your thoughts on the significance that played in the process of bringing this album to life?

John Mailander: Collaboration and improvisation are some of the most beautiful parts of being a musician. I love working with the widest variety of artists that I can. It’s a great way to become closer on a human level with the people you’re working with.

Initially, when I was starting this Forecast project, I envisioned it as more of a collective of musicians where we could all bring our own original tunes to the table and improvise freely. However, over time it’s formed into a more regular lineup with the six of us, allowing for the group to grow together as a unit.

Is the album title, Let the World In, meant to be a nod to that collaborative nature and outside influences that loom so large on the project?

Absolutely. The title has a lot of different angles to it. I hesitate to say everything it means to me because I don’t want to put it into too much of a box – I want to leave room for the listener to imagine what it means for them as well. It’s a follow-up to the last record [Look Closer] that we made in isolation during the pandemic.

While that record was very introspective, this new one is much more expansive, because of the world opening up more now and having this constant flood of information coming at us from all directions. It’s an overwhelming time to be alive, so this album feels like a companion piece to the last one, almost like the other side of the coin.

The title track also features the “Let the World In Sound Freedom Expressionists” – Hannah Delynn, Maya de Vitry, Gibb Droll, Ella Korth, Lindsay Lou, and Royal Masat. What was your intention with recruiting them for that one track, and what do you feel they brought to it that it may not have had otherwise?

They are a collection of very dear friends in Nashville who have been there for me in my personal life through a lot. It felt really important to me to credit these friends on the record in some way. That manifested into this collection of sound bites from each of them including poetry, sound effects, singing, and field recordings, which I put together into the sound collage you hear in the track. I love knowing that all of their voices are in there. I hope with each listen you can tune into different elements of it and hear new things.

In terms of outside influences on the record, I know Bruce Hornsby played a big role. What tricks and lessons from him did you implement into these songs?

Bruce is one of my greatest teachers. He’s been really encouraging over the past few years to pursue this project, grow into a band leader, and becoming more confident on the piano. I’m very rudimentary, but I’ve become obsessed with learning the piano recently, in large part thanks to Bruce and watching him play it so much. Everything on this record – except for the cover, “Road,” and the improvisational tracks – were ones I wrote on the piano, which was a huge change in direction for me.

I’ve also tried to incorporate elements of how he leads a band, like having dueling conversational solos rather than individual ones or weaving in and out of and finishing each other’s lines, into what we do with the Forecast as well.

Process-wise, how did the construction of these songs on the piano differ from when you’re composing on fiddle?

Going back to the title of this record, the piano gave it a wider scope compositionally for me, because I was thinking a lot more about bass lines and counter melodies and other things that as a fiddle player aren’t as prevalent. With the fiddle I think much more melodically – it’s kind of the top voice – which makes it harder for me to compose that way because even though it’s my primary instrument it’s hard to get a full picture with it. On the piano it felt more like writing for an entire ensemble rather than just writing a melody in chords.

You ended up knocking out the recording for this album during four consecutive days last year. What was it like doing it all rapid-fire like that compared to the more conventional, slow and steady approach?

It was intense, and we even recorded more than just what made it on the record. A lot of the work in post [production], for me, has been crafting everything we recorded into something that tells a story, which would’ve been tough to do across multiple sessions with the band over time, given that they’re all touring musicians as well. It felt good getting together with everyone from basically 10 to 6 every day and working our butts off as much as we could. It was the most concentrated and focused time we’ve ever had together as a band, as well as a reality check about things in the band we needed to work on.

It’s like putting a microscope on everything because we’ve been playing live at Dee’s every month for a few years, but now we’re in this hyper-focused environment where we can hear and analyze every minor detail. It opened up a lot of rabbit holes that I ended up going down later, but I think we really grew as a band through the process of making it this way.

You mentioned the time being a reality check for what you needed to work on as a band. What were some of those things?

It was like putting a microscope on how the particular instrumentation and individual voices on our instruments really blend and work together, revealing sonic and dynamic things that worked or not. It revealed some habits we’d gotten into through playing live that we discovered didn’t always translate to a record. The sessions were an awesome and intensive way to grow as a unit.

You’ve produced all of the Forecast records thus far. Is that something you plan to continue doing in the future?

Actually, the next record we do I’d like to have another producer. I love producing, but I’m realizing that for my own music I’d like to get another perspective in the room next time we do it. It’s really tough taking on both of those roles, but I’m really proud of what we did and grateful for producing it again this time around.

One of my favorite elements of the record is how well the songs flow from one into another – if listened through in order it presents almost as one long, 35-minute track. Tell me about sequencing this record and the importance for listeners to digest the full project from start to finish?

I’ve always been a nerd about sequencing records. I think it’s a really important part of the experience of listening to music. With this one I put a lot more attention into connecting the tracks. Some of them blend into one another, which is something that my mastering engineer Wayne Pooley – who I know through the Bruce Hornsby world – and I spent countless time laboring over the microseconds between every track to make sure each one hits you in a very intentional way.

Only one track on the album has lyrics – your cover of Nick Drake’s “Road.” Why’d you choose it, and what do you feel it contributes to the overall narrative you’re striving to present on the record?

[Nick’s] been a huge inspiration for years. Even as more of an instrumentalist I’ve always been drawn to his writing. But in terms of that song, I’ve known it for a while and love the entire record it’s on, Pink Man. About a year and a half ago – just before work on Let the World In began – I brought the song to the band. Nick Drake’s version is around two minutes long, but I thought it would be cool to use the song as a tool with our band to improvise and jam like we do at our live shows. We did just that by stretching it out to over nine minutes long. Lyrically it fits with the themes on the rest of the record, but it’s not heavy-handed either. It’s still open to interpretation, which is what I really value in it.

Initially I thought about having a guest vocalist on it, because on our last record we had a couple guest singers. But as we got closer and closer to the studio sessions I realized that it was important for me to sing this one myself, and I’m really proud with how it turned out.

If you could collaborate or have a jam session with any musician past or present, who would it be?

My hero, Trey Anastasio. It would be a dream to play or collaborate with him someday.

What has music, specifically when it comes to the creation process for Let the World In, taught you about yourself?

It’s allowed me to connect with my bandmates on a deeper level than I know how to do any other way. Through that I’m able to tap into those energies that exist between us as people, which is a type of connection I practice and strive to achieve every day.

Photo Credit: Michael Weintrob

This Music Festival’s Goal Is Healing Appalachia, From the Inside Out (Part 1 of 2)

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

This weekend, September 21, 22, and 23, at the West Virginia State Fairgrounds in Lewisburg, West Virginia, ascendant, down home country star Tyler Childers and his cohort will gather for an event begun in 2018 called Healing Appalachia. The benefit festival, put on by West Virginia based non-profit Hope in the Hills, will include performances by some of the biggest and buzziest names in American roots music: Jason Isbell & the 400 Unit, Trey Anastasio Band, Marcus King, Umphrey’s McGee, Amythyst Kiah and many more.

Healing Appalachia is just one of many such community-led, collective efforts born from within the region in recent years that is working towards effecting positive change while offering local, ground-up solutions to big, systemic problems. Their social media and website put it elegantly and succinctly: Their vision is a prosperous Appalachia, free from addiction. The opioid crisis has hit Appalachia, especially West Virginia and Childers’ home state of Kentucky, incredibly hard. When 26 people overdosed on one day in Huntington, West Virginia, in 2016, the mission for Hope in the Hills and Healing Appalachia was born.

At the time, Childers and his hardscrabble team were still climbing the music-industry ladder, building connections and community that would eventually grow and blossom into the multi-day event Healing Appalachia has become today. Childers’ friend and manager, Ian Thornton – who founded WhizzbangBAM, the booking and management company that represents Childers – together with festival program director Charlie Hatcher, Hope in the Hills board president Dave Lavender, and others took that tragic day in Huntington and turned it into an accretion point, around which they gathered and took action. Now, the festival has a local, annual economic impact approaching $3 million while raising thousands of dollars to be distributed to local, on-the-ground organizations and non-profits that specialize in addiction programs, recovery, support and healing for this long-oppressed region of the world.

We spoke to Ian Thornton and Dave Lavender for a two-part interview preview of Healing Appalachia, that dives into the work of Hope in the Hills and explores this grassroots music event’s community-first mission, that hopes to heal these music-steeped, underestimated communities in Appalachia from the inside out. Read our conversation with Ian Thornton below, read our conversation with Dave Lavender here.

Unable to attend the festival this weekend? You can donate to support the cause here.

Could you tell me a little bit about the background, the impetus, or the inspiration when you all were putting your heads together to make an event called Healing Appalachia. What was that like?

Ian Thornton: I’m very close friends with a fellow named Charlie Hatcher, who’s actually the festival producer for the event. The idea came to him first – you know, he tells the story better than I do – but he was on a fishing trip and got a call that yet another one of his friends had passed away from an opioid overdose. You know, we’ve all lost countless friends who we grew up with, went to school with, and I guess you’d say this one was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Charlie just kind of wanted to do something about it. He reached out to me and we got our heads working.

We’re not a recovery organization ourselves, right? But what we’re good at is the music side of things, producing events, working with musicians, playing music, inspiring people, bringing people together. That’s kind of how it was born. I talked to Charlie, who is friends with Tyler [Childers], too, and obviously this is something Tyler is very passionate about.

Tyler is also from Appalachia and he’s lost friends and family members, himself. The idea kind of spawned from thinking, “What if we do essentially a Farm Aid type of event?” The thought process was to have Tyler be the face of it and have all the efforts go towards recovery and the battle against the opioid epidemic here in Appalachia.

What I love about a cause like this is that the music itself is generative and restorative, and isn’t just a tool to generate interest or awareness. How do music and the arts play a role in a mission like this, in healing Appalachia, where the music can do the work as well as spotlighting the work? Do you agree or disagree?

IT: I certainly agree, and I think music is one of those things that ties everyone together, right? On a base level.

This one I think is in particular, it’s special because substance use and music are pretty closely tied together. A lot of musicians suffer from [substance abuse], and it’s part of the lifestyle, right? It’s part of what you see as “the rock and roll lifestyle” or whatever you call it. They kind of go hand in hand. We’re all more aware of it now, too, and we all know folks who have taken things to the extreme, then they’ve had to kind of pull back and get sober after feeling like they lost their way. We wanna show that sobriety and rock and roll – or whatever you want to call it – can live together harmoniously, just as easy as the party side of things.

A very good friend of mine, who’s no longer with us, Tom Morgan, he battled with sobriety for a long time. He was one of the guys that taught me my first chords on a guitar, right? And it got to the point, for him, where he couldn’t even go to shows locally, because they’re always at bars, right? Venues and bars are so closely associated that it can be difficult for someone who is in recovery.

I think that’s why the music side of Healing Appalachia, using music to bring awareness to this epidemic, really goes hand-in-hand. Even some of our performers – Trey Anastasio is performing this year and I think he’s over 15 years sober, now. Obviously with Phish, which is, you know, the jam band, you would assume, drug culture and everything else is associated with that. But, Trey’s only gotten greater in what he’s done with his musicianship. And, you know, Tyler even comments too that his artistry has improved and he’s been able to focus more on it since becoming sober and quitting drinking.

What is the importance of community and mutual aid to this mission, and how important is it that you all are not just people coming in from the outside, that you all have a stake in this – regionally and locally. Do you think that building community as you’re doing this is just as important as doing the work as well?

IT: Yeah. And, you know, to be honest, I think that’s where it has to start. You can look at things on these big levels and you can just get overcome or overwhelmed with how large the changes you’re trying to make are. At that point you get discouraged and you’re not going to do it.

Living inside Appalachia, we have heard all of the stereotypes. That we’re, you know, “Shoeless, toothless, drug-addled, fat…” We’ve dealt with these things and we’ve dealt with the oppression of the coal industry, of big money, of big pharma. All of this built on the backs of Appalachians.

I’ve always been someone who believes that you have to start locally. You have to have something that’s attainable. Something you can put your hands on and something that’s meaningful – it’s more meaningful to us because we’re in the fucking thick of it, right? I mean, Huntington, West Virginia, was almost the nucleus of the opioid crisis, and that’s the city I was born and raised in. We watched [everything] happen, the day there were 26 overdoses in one day due to a bad batch of heroin coming in. If you create something locally and have local people that are invested, what that does is it will not only grow the mission in and of itself, to help people become more aware. But one of my ultimate goals was always for someone else to see what we’re doing and it inspires them to do something in their region. Sometimes that’s all people need. They just need to be pushed over the hump to get the inspiration.

Do you have an idea of the scale of the economic impact of the festival, not only for your mission, but also for the area in general?

Yeah, so I’m going to refer to my fact sheet here. [Laughs] We’ve estimated $2.4 million in local economy spending in southern West Virginia and the Lewisburg area. That’s like hotels, gas stations, shops, restaurants, everything. On top of that, we donate money directly, too, and we pull a lot of volunteers from the region.

Like, the local high school basketball team will come and clean up trash. We’ve given more than $50,000 to local youth organizations in Greenbrier County alone. I think we had over 30 states and 6 countries represented last year in concertgoers.
It does make the point for you: You can have all of the apparatus and all the infrastructure, but if you don’t have the community, how do you take those numbers and turn them into something that means something to the people who are on the ground there in West Virginia? And involving them, too, right? Everything from the car lots to catering to cooking burgers out back.

To date, we have donated over $400,000 to recovery wellness organizations. That goes to over two dozen different organizations. We’re not a recovery organization ourselves, right? We’re facilitators. What we’re trying to do is give people that want to do that side of the work the means to do it. We don’t have this crazy application process for grantees. You don’t have to have a degree in grant writing to come to us. Tell us what it is you’re doing, tell us what you need. It could be needle exchange programs or money going towards Jacob’s Ladder, which is an organization for children that were born addicted. We try to hit all sides of it that we can, relying on donations as well as funds raised from the concert itself.

What bands, acts, or artists are you particularly excited about this year when you look at the lineup? It’s a pretty stout lineup!

To be quite honest, I’m pretty excited about the whole thing! When this started it was a small, one day event. I think we only had around 7,500 people show up to it. Last year, we had 16,000+ plus.

I’m personally pretty excited about Trey Anastasio and Classic TAB. I’m such a Phish fan, obviously, and can’t believe we’re having Trey play right before Tyler. I’m just really stoked about that! Also excited for Gov’t Mule, Isbell, 49 Winchester, who are cruising right now. And then, you know, keeping some local folks involved, too, your Kelsey Waldon, Charles Wesley Godwin. And Mr. Tommy Prime, who is fantastic and obviously, his father was an inspiration to a lot of these folks.

It’s really special to see some of these folks actually coming to us now. At first, you know how it is, you have to go beg people, “Hey… I’m doing this charity thing… You want to go play for free? We’ll get you in the local paper…” The “exposure” gigs, right? And now the pitch writes itself! The work that’s been done speaks for itself and people get behind it.

It goes back to the tie with substance abuse and music. You know, they go hand in hand. … I drink, right? It’s nothing that I’m personally [abusing], thankfully. But substance abuse is a thing that can get out of hand in the music industry.

Tommy Prine performs at Healing Appalachia 2022.

Let’s close with two questions and they feel very big, but don’t be alarmed: What does a healed Appalachia look like to you, personally? And what’s one thing that you’d like people to know about Appalachia?

IT: I mean in healing Appalachia, we just have to make it so that folks don’t feel trapped or alone. And to let them know, if it’s a battle they’re going up against, they’re not the first one to do it, even if it’s not an easy battle. It’s not going to be a mound to climb, it’s a goddamn mountain, right? So, having the availability and the resources in place so that when someone is ready to take this on, whether it be the first time or the 10th time, that they don’t feel ashamed or guilty about it. That they feel loved and like a human being.

Question 2, I think wherever you come from, rural, urban, or whatever, it’s the stigmas, right? I want people to know how those stigmas make an impact. The stereotypes of, “They’re fat, uneducated. They live in hills and don’t wear shoes, right?” The whole reason I do what I do, with Whizzbang in particular, I only work with acts from our region. And I do that specifically. When I started getting into all this, even before Tyler, just seeing the music that’s created here. We are not just one thing, right? Nobody is just one thing. You cannot judge a whole people by the bit of the iceberg that floats on top.

The stuff on top that’s the most visual, but you can’t judge a whole people by that. Appalachia is the most beautiful place in the country. Granted, I’m biased. I grew up there.

(Editor’s Note: Read part two, our conversation with Hope in the Hills board president Dave Lavender, here.)

Photos by Hunter Way / Impact Media

BGS 5+5: Jason Carter

Posted on by Editor

Artist: Jason Carter
Hometown: Lloyd, Kentucky
Latest Album: Lowdown Hoedown
Personal nicknames: Fiddler

Which artist has influenced you the most … and how?

Del McCoury. I first heard Del when I was around 15 years old. At that time I was playing guitar and knew I wanted to play music for a living. When I heard Del I knew that was the band I wanted to join, and knew his sons played banjo and mandolin, so the only options were bass and fiddle. My dad had a fiddle and he started teaching me to play around that time. For the next few years I spent most of my time learning fiddle solos to Del McCoury songs. My parents were very supportive. My Mom would drive me to school and I remember we listened to “I Feel the Blues Moving In” every day of my senior year. She said she never got tired of the song either. I was obsessed with his music from an early age!

The February after my graduation I hired on with the Del McCoury Band. I think the stars aligned. At that time Del still drove the bus. There were many nights I would sit and practice fiddle through the night while he drove. Lots of times I wouldn’t know what to play for a solo on his songs. I’d ask for his help and he’d sing melodies for me to play. Over the years watching how he’s run his band, giving them the freedom to express themselves musically and how open he is to exploring different genres of music through bluegrass. I feel very fortunate to have been able to spend the last 30 years in his band.

What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?

One of my favorite memories is when the Del McCoury Band played Oswego, New York, with Phish. They invited us to play on their main stage set and after seeing a sea of 80,000 people in front of the stage I got pretty nervous. We played a couple tunes with them and someone broke a string. Trey said, “Hey, play one of those fiddle/banjo duet things you guys do.” The thoughts of breaking down the wall of sound from this rock band to just fiddle and banjo scared the hell out of me until Rob and I started playing. The crowd continued dancing as if the entire band was still playing. It was pretty cool how that crowd and that band accepted our music. We got to play several more times with them and Jonathan Fishman has actually played entire sets with the Del McCoury Band and The Travelin’ McCourys and most recently he recorded on my solo record Lowdown Hoedown.

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

Whether it’s gardening, golfing, hunting, or fishing, I like to be outdoors. All those hobbies seem to clear my mind of anything else going on in the world. Sometimes I hunt a farm around Goodlettsville, Tennessee, not far from Grandpa Jones and Stringbean’s old houses. I’ve sometimes wondered if I was crossing the same paths that they walked when they hunted together. It’s also nice to put the boat in and go down the Cumberland River. The view of Nashville from the river is pretty cool! Sometimes I pass by John Hartford’s house. That always brings back memories of all the jam sessions we used to have. Those are great memories.

What was the first moment that you knew you wanted to be a musician?

From my earliest memories I remember my dad’s band The Buffalo Creek Express playing shows. I tried to mimic them as a kid. When I was 8 years old one of dad’s friends, Mike Parsons, came to our house and his son who was only a couple years older than me was playing guitar. I thought this kid is good! I wonder if I can do this. I asked my dad if he would show me how to play. After Mike left my dad showed me the chords to the song they were playing. “The House of the Rising Sun.” The next time Mike came to the house I was the kid playing.

What has been the best advice you’ve received in your career so far?

In 2001 we were on the Down From The Mountain tour. Bobby Hicks was the fiddler in the Ricky Skaggs band that was also on the tour. It seemed like every day we were playing tunes together. Bobby was very generous about teaching me his style of fiddling. One day I was having a hard time with something he had showed me. He straightened me out pretty quick and before he left and before I walked on stage he said, “Just get out there and play from the heart and those people are gonna love you.” I’ve never forgotten that moment or the encouragement he gave me.

Photo Credit: Michael Weintrob

LISTEN: Chris Castino & Chicken Wire Empire, “Kangaroo”

Posted on by Editor

Artist: Chris Castino & Chicken Wire Empire
Hometown: St. Paul, Minnesota
Song: “Kangaroo”
Album: Fresh Pickles
Release Date: February 4, 2022

In Their Words: “My love for bluegrass began (in earnest) in 1993. As a guitarist in a jam band then, the mid ’90s were full of wonderful crossovers: Leftover Salmon was emerging, The Pizza Tapes were floating around, my favorite Tony Rice record …Sings Gordon Lightfoot came out, heck, even Phish was playing bluegrass. A lot of that music was lively, fun, and irreverent. And that’s what ‘Kangaroo’ (written in 1995) is as well. The tune is bouncy — fitting, I suppose. And little kids love it, which makes me happy!” — Chris Castino

chris castino · Kangaroo

Photo Credit: David Jackson

MIXTAPE: Stevie Redstone’s Roots Music to Drive To

Posted on by Editor

I love me some driving. Whether it be for touring, or just a hankering to get out there and see some place I’ve never seen, I always enjoy packing up and hitting the pavement. While I do plenty of searching for new tunage, here are a few of my longtime staples you’d likely hear if you were in the passenger seat on a long ride with Stevie. — Stevie Redstone

The Band – “Across the Great Divide”

Nothing quite says road music to me more than The Band. They have so many great ones to travel to, but “Across the Great Divide” sticks out for me.

Paul Simon – “Graceland”

It’s no secret to those who know me that Paul is probably my favorite American songwriter. The Graceland album is a personal fave and the title track always gets me in that happy driving mood.

Allman Brothers Band – “Ain’t Wastin’ Time No More”

I love everything about this song. Lyrics, message, melodies, vocals. It’s all there.

Grateful Dead – “Promised Land”

This Chuck Berry-penned tune covered by another driving music titan of a band, The Grateful Dead, will get your motor runnin’. It’s also quite literally about traveling around the country. See what I did there?

Creedence Clearwater Revival – “I Heard It Through the Grapevine”

Originally written by Barrett Strong and Norman Whitfield of Motown fame, there are many adaptations of this great driving tune, including of course Marvin Gaye’s. I love this CCR version when I’m out there, in part because they really went for it with the jam. Eleven mins of gritty joy.

The Beach Boys – “Here She Comes”

Among  my favorite Beach Boys tunes. It has an infectious piano part/groove and the best bridge maybe ever.

The California Honeydrops – “When It Was Wrong”

One of the best and most underappreciated bands of our time. Just listen, mmk?

Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young – “Suite: Judy Blue Eyes”

A pinnacle of songwriting, harmonies, movement, etc. Simply stunning, and it never gets old.

My Morning Jacket – “Evil Urges”

I’m so impressed by Jim James as a solo artist and for his work with My Morning Jacket. This one’s always stuck out for me, but the catalogue of greatness is extensive.

Phish – “Down With Disease”

I’ve seen Phish live FAR more than any other band. I love a good jam and they’ve taken me to some of the highest highs that I’ve experienced for a live show. The sheer amount of songs and live recordings is too daunting to pick any one in particular, so I threw a YouTube dart and landed on this old video of “Down With Disease.”

Photo credit: Shelby Duncan

Cary Morin Picks His Piece

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“Let there be no question of who’s wrong and who’s right. There should be no compromise. We all stand up and fight in the dawn’s early light,” Cary Morin sings on “Dawn’s Early Light,” written in support of the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe during last year’s protest of the Dakota Access Pipeline.

“A friend of mine was doing a show [at Standing Rock with the Indigo Girls] and she had asked me, just in passing, if I would write a song for the Standing Rock movement,” Morin explains. “I felt like there were a lot of people writing songs about that, at that time, and I wanted this one to be a little different and stand out a little bit, so it was really more concentrated on the activism, in general, and not so much Standing Rock, but just the whole idea of people coming together to promote clean water.”

“Dawn’s Early Light” is one of the poignant original songs featured on Morin’s latest album, Cradle to the Grave. In order to lend his perspective, Morin tapped into his experience growing up as a Crow tribal member near the Missouri River in Montana.

“When you think about roots music in America, it’s a culmination of so many things. It’s all the stuff blended together, much like the culture in this country is people from all over the world that end up here and create a unique situation,” Morin explains. “With my Native heritage, I could say that I’m really the only finger-style Crow guy on the entire planet. That’s unique. But we all can say that, to some degree. We all have unique things that make us who we are, and I’m really thankful to have grown up in the area that I did, surrounded by the people that I did.”

Morin came to the guitar by way of the piano, which he first began playing around the age of 10. When he picked up a guitar a couple years later, he was enamored. He played by ear, emulating the sounds he loved from his parents’ and brother’s record collection: Chet Atkins, James Taylor, Cat Stevens and Neil Young.

“I grew up in the ‘70s so, at that time, [there was] no Internet, there was very little TV, mostly radio. And the local music scene was really pretty folky and a lot of bluegrass, so I really grew up in the pursuit of flat-picking and [was influenced by] popular bluegrass bands at the time — David Bromberg, Norman Blake, Tony Rice,” says Morin. “I had really fantastic examples of what the music should be, but then I kind of mashed everything up into a combination of bluegrass and finger-style stuff, mostly from Leo Kottke, which turned into this thing that I do now.”

Morin moved to Colorado just out of high school and formed the Atoll, a world-beat band that he toured with for more than 20 years. “I played electric guitar [in the band], but I continued to mess around with the acoustic guitar,” he says. “Once I stopped doing [the band], my focus was really just acoustic guitar and a lot of practicing — just hours and hours of sitting around and playing. To this day, I try to play quite a lot. I’ve been introduced to open-D tuning by a friend of mine, and it took me about a year to get it going and figure out just the basics of it. But then, once I got it going, I just found it to be really fascinating, and I continue to learn new stuff all the time with that tuning. I just love the way it sounds. There’s a fullness and richness to it that I can’t seem to get out of standard tuning.”

Morin’s reconnection with the acoustic guitar led to the release of his most recent string of solo acoustic albums. Cradle to the Grave is the fourth in the series showcasing his adept fingerpicking style and warm, inviting vocals. An amalgamation of bluegrass, country, rock ’n’ roll, and blues, the album features eight original tunes and three cover songs: Willie Brown’s “Mississippi Blues” and, perhaps more surprisingly, Prince’s “Nothing Compares 2 U” and Phish’s “Back on the Train.”

“Phish is one of my favorite bands … I think that Trey’s playing has just really been inspiring and just the whole feel of the band and the approach they take. There’s so much freedom in what they do, and I used that as an example with my band, when I was rolling around playing clubs and festivals,” Morin explains. “A lot of times we’d play five songs without stopping. We’d just roll from tune to tune, and the whole point of that band was really dance music, just to provide an outlet for people to go out and have fun and dance.”

Morin uses the same ethos in his current performances touring behind his solo efforts.

“As a solo player, I can do whatever I want. I can play in whatever key. I can speed things up or slow it down, or just kind of make things up as I go along. And I really dig that freedom to just do whatever I want on stage,” he says. “Sometimes I’ll try stuff and sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. But when it does, it’s a great feeling, and then it’s gone forever.”

While solo spontaneity on stage leads to such ephemeral moments, Morin has a solidified team off-stage that serves as his backbone — and they’re not going anywhere. From recording to promotion, it’s an organic, family affair.

“What I like about these four records [is that] the recordings are all done live in the studio with no headphones. I’ll sit and play these songs, and just play and play and play them, and a friend of mine has recorded all these albums,” Morin explains. “We’ve gotten together, I think, a pretty successful team with Maple Street Music and [my wife] promoting the live shows and the recordings, and Rich [Werdes] recording them, and we have the same person that’s been mastering and mixing the CDs, too. It’s just like the perfect combination of people and I like to think that I promote one guy, one guitar. People still are interested in such a thing … I just really enjoy being able to stand on stage by myself being able to do what I do.”

Photo credit: Timothy Duffy

The Passing On of the Experience: An Interview with Bob Boilen

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A persistent, young Bob Boilen showed up to the National Public Radio offices every day for a few weeks in 1988 until he was hired on All Things Considered. With his foot in the public radio door, he began to actualize a vision for sharing music in the digital age and, thus, NPR Music was born. Boilen created the Tiny Desk Concerts, started and hosts NPR’s All Songs Considered, and is a musician himself, playing synth in his current band Danger Painters.

Earlier this year, he released his first book, Your Song Changed My Life, in which he tells an oral history of modern music through interviewing artists about the song that altered their career and, ultimately, steered them into musicianship during their formative years. As Boilen puts it, “My job as a writer is to sort of figure out what it is that connected their song choice to their current music. Like, they could tell me they loved it, and they could tell me why they loved it, but what I tried to do in the book is figure out how that connects to the music they now make.”

From Lucinda Williams to Trey Anastasio to Chris Thile, Boilen interviewed artists about their musical inspirations, connecting the dots to their current musical works as he wrote. The book points to an interconnected global music scene, the weight of familial influences, and the undercurrent of poignant songwriting and composition. It also highlights to a few chance meetings with music — like when a box of CDs literally fell off the back of a truck in front of St. Vincent’s Annie Clark’s house, and what those meetings with fate meant for the artist.

How did you choose the lineup of artists in your book, and did you being a musician yourself influence the artists you chose?

Everybody in the book I madly cared about, except for one person. I didn’t feel like spending my time on people I didn’t really love, and that’s true with just about everything I do. When I pick songs on my show, I rarely play songs I don’t like, so I started with people I really liked. And then it was really about availability. Like Jimmy Page happened to be touring — someone I’d always dreamed of talking with — and it just so happened he had a book coming out, a really beautiful photography book. Also Physical Graffiti had just been reissued. As he would say, “The mother of all double albums.” And he’s right. He was very fun to talk to. The music I love and the music I make are all one big ball of the same thing. I look for music with adventure, music that challenges … at least, challenges me.

In terms of Americana music and bluegrass music, it’s not my forté, but I always find things in the genre that I love. Pokey LaFarge’s dedication to that form and that sound is so real and honest. I don’t know anyone like Valerie June. Her voice is incredible and her songwriting is so good, and, as I hint in the book, I think it’s just beginning. The song that changed her life was “Imagine” by John Lennon, which I didn’t really ever imagine would be the case. She aspires to writing something with a deeper meaning, and a bigger reach, and I imagine she’ll do it.

She stops you in your tracks. Is there anyone you didn’t interview that you really wanted to interview?

Let me tell you about the one artist I interviewed who I didn’t really care for instead, and then we’ll do that. Trey Anastasio, of Phish, was the one artist in the book who I didn’t come to the table loving his music, because I don’t. It’s not that I dislike his music, but I’ve just never fallen for it. What I appreciate about him is, when an artist connects with fans, and fans connect with an artist, and there’s this back-and-forth that happens, that’s this little community that just pops up and disappears, and Phish does that almost better than anyone. I’ve really admired it, and I really wanted to explore it, and that conversation was probably one of my very favorites — if not my favorite. It was so surprising.

The book goes through a lot of artists who pick songs and you’ll say, “Oh, I love Josh Ritter. Of course he picked Bob Dylan,” and it goes on like that. But then you get these monster surprises, like Trey, who picked Leonard Bernstein’s piece from West Side Story "Somewhere," and then goes through this reasoning as to what it means to him.

You don’t really think of Phish and Leonard Bernstein, and that was the fun of writing the book. For him, it was just really about understanding music and music theory. That made him a great improviser, and Bernstein helped him understand how music works, and why certain tensions work and certain chords work, and so he tried to understand the theory of music. Once he did, he became really fluent at it, so he could be a great improviser. Chris Thile was not unlike that, either, who I madly love. He came to Bach — this Goldberg variation — but that makes a little more sense, because you hear that in the Punch Brothers.

Through hearing the surprises — and the ones you thought made sense — did it say anything to you about the natural progression of music, or even the global implications, of an Aussie like Courtney Barnett choosing Chicago’s Wilco? Did you come to any realizations or conclusions about the connections you saw?

It made me think a lot, because a lot of the people in the book lean a little bit older, so they grew up in households where there were physical music collections, be it vinyl or CD. But then you get to Ásgeir, who’s very young. There are CDs still, but I start to think about what is next. What does it mean to grow up in a household where everything is digital and there’s nothing to hold onto? How do you, as a parent, pass on your collection? I don’t judge it, but I grew up buying vinyl because that’s all there was. It makes me wonder how that experience becomes as impactful when there's nothing physical. There’s something about the passing on of the experience that feels like the physical means so much. So, Josh Ritter going through and finding records in his parent’s record collection, things like that, made me wonder. I don’t know what the future will be like.

Playlists?

But people are not going to pass on their Spotify playlists. I mean, there won’t be a Spotify! You can almost bet on it. It’s just the nature of the changing world. It really moves so fast.

I was a CD kid, but now I’m a Spotify kid.

Do you like it?

I love Spotify — specifically collaborative playlists. I think they are the coolest thing out there because you can see who contributed what songs. But, like you said, it’s hard to archive a playlist because it’s not physical.

If they unsubscribe or stop paying their subscription, what happens to their participation in the list?

It’s still public, but you can’t control the order. And you have to listen to the horrendous ads. Has the process of you connecting to music in the digital world changed, specifically with singles versus albums? Has that changed for you, as things have migrated to digital?

The thing that I miss most is the artwork. My favorite album this year is probably the Car Seat Headrest record, and I can barely describe the front cover of that record. That’s crazy. I know that you can judge an album by its cover. I’ve done it all my life, and so that process is gone. I no longer can just look through 60 things that I get in a morning, and say, "Oh, these four things …"

Do you think that democratizes the process at all?

No, because you can tell an album by its cover. The decision of the artwork is often made by the artist, so it conveys an aesthetic. It just really was a part of what that album was at that moment in time for an artist. These days, I mostly deal with downloads. I do like listening to music, so to speak, blindfolded. During the day, I’ll listen to a bunch of stuff that even sounds remotely interesting. I’ll rip, and then put it on a playlist. That’s a democratization process that I like a lot.

With All Songs Considered, I try to pick music people will latch onto the first time they hear it, because the odds are they aren’t going to listen to my show twice, so I try to pick songs that work the first time around, right off the bat. That democratized playlist shuffle is helpful there.

You have introduced me to many of my favorite bands, and I’ve never really thought about it like that; I’m specifically thinking of "Coffee" by Sylvan Esso.

Right?!

How could you not love that song? And now I have stalked that band all over this country, but I never really thought of you trying to pick the most available one for the show.

It came to me a couple of years into doing the show … that no one’s going to listen to the show twice.

When I first moved to Nashville, everyone told me not to go to shows every night. They told me, “Pace yourself, or you’ll get jaded by the music because it’s all around.” And I went to a lot of shows and, subsequently, went through a jaded period. Have you ever experienced that?

I find I get overwhelmed. When I was directing All Things Considered in the late '90s, I’d get lots and lots of handmade CDs, with their handwriting on the record, and it really made me connect with the fact that this is somebody’s life and dream. I try to hold onto that and never forget that. I mean, sure, I go to shows where I think, “You’ve got to be kidding me. I cannot imagine how you’ll make it." I certainly don’t care for it, but I also know that getting up on a stage is a brave act. Putting yourself in front of people and singing or playing your heart out is a meaningful act. We’re all humans looking for our place in life. If I keep that grounded thought, it really helps me. But, it doesn’t mean that I’m going to love and embrace all that I hear.

And, if you don’t like it, someone else might. I heard your interview with John Congleton where he talked about, when he hears certain music he doesn’t like, he believes it’s his problem or fault.

Yeah, that’s a really brilliant way to look at music, right?

I know, I thought, “Man, what a genius this dude is.” Do you ever have that issue?

I have huge blind spots in my taste.

We all do.

I’m not a fan of hip hop. I’m not a fan of beat-based music, so that eliminates a lot of music. What I’m careful about saying is, it’s not that it’s not good music — it’s amazing music — it doesn’t speak to me, and that’s okay. I think that what I’ve learned in writing this book is that there are some times in our lives — usually in those hormonal days — when you connect with a kind of music, although you may continue to love all different types of music as you grow up. Much of the Boomer Generation, like myself, thinks that Neil Young and the Beatles and all those other bands from the '60s and '70s are it and that no one's ever done music that good. Well, that’s crazy talk.

Thank you.

But, that said, ingrained in me is the love of a song that has a structure, because I fell in love with that in my hormonal years. I think what we have to do is respect it all. Even as a teen, I would think, “Oh, that’s shitty music,” “That’s really stupid,” and it isn’t that. As Congleton says, it’s kinda your own fault and your own failings, but accept that you can try to fix it.

Did your parents have an influence on your musical taste?

Not in a good way. [Laughs] My mom liked the Barbra Streisands and show music of the world, and I really really really don't like that music. And my dad is a big band enthusiast, of which I didn’t come to until a bit later. I fell really hard for the music of the '20s and '30s. But I grew up in a time that was so fertile for rock music in the '60s and '70s, and it was unfolding so fast. Plus, our generation was a generation that was rebellious against our parents, which I don’t really see anymore — which is amazing, really. And that’s what rock 'n' roll was all about. That was the nature of the beast.

I have one off the wall question: I saw a video that you made in 1988 of the chairs of NPR.

Oh my gah.

Personally, I think the video should have more than 778 views on YouTube. How have the chairs changed at NPR?

[Laughs] Thank you. We have nice chairs now. The fact is, the chairs are wonderful now.

Photo credit: Maggie Starbard/NPR