Tag: Punch Brothers

MIXTAPE: Wood & Wire’s Grammy-Nominated Faves

Posted on by Editor

Welcome to our guide to The Grammys! You may (or may not) be surprised to learn that our musical tastes span far beyond the beautiful world of bluegrass music. Below you’ll find some of our favorite tracks from the Bluegrass category along with many other tracks from various nominees. This took us a while and was nearly impossible to narrow down. We could have easily made this list a lot longer. For now, enjoy some highlights and we’ll see you in L.A.! — Tony Kamel, Wood & Wire

(Editor’s Note: Wood & Wire’s North of Despair is nominated for a Grammy in the Best Bluegrass Album category.)

The Travelin’ McCourys – “Southbound”

We’ve been fortunate to get to play some shows with these guys over the last few years. They’re great people and awesome bluegrass pickers but this album showcases their versatility beyond just bluegrass while remaining undeniably true to the bluegrass style.

Kacey Musgraves – “Slow Burn”

Kacey received four nominations, including Album of the Year, for her album Golden Hour. Whether you consider it country or not it doesn’t really matter. From front to back the album is absolutely flawless.

Kendrick Lamar & SZA – “All the Stars”

This song is so catchy and so good you’ll want to start it over again once it ends. It also has landed four nominations including Record of the Year.

Brandi Carlile – “The Joke”

A poignant and powerful song by an incredible singer/songwriter. Don’t stop with this song because the entire album is amazing.

Zedd, Maren Morris & Grey – “The Middle”

Are you someone who doesn’t listen to pop songs that much? Forget about all of that and give this song a listen. It’s a perfect pop song.

Marcus Miller: “Trip Trap”

Bassist Marcus Miller is the Boss, the GOAT and a very bad boy. His unbelievable album Laid Black (up for best Contemporary Instrumental Album) is Marcus in peak form, start to finish. Don’t take our word for it, listen to the opening (live) track “Trip Trap.” You’ll find that Marcus is talking to you on that bass. Turn it up.

Mike Barnett: “Mary and the Soldier”

When we saw this title on Mike’s album, we were eager to listen to his interpretation. His fiddle playing is so tasteful, and his arrangement is so musical, we truly feel that the purity and passion of this traditional music has been understood, matched and advanced. And who better to sing than Tim O’Brien? Mike joins us in the Best Bluegrass Album category with his record, Portraits in Fiddles.

Margo Price (Feat. Willie Nelson) – “Learning to Lose”

By now, you all know who Margo Price is. It’s funny that she’s up for Best New Artist considering how long she’s been doing her thing–and what a wonderful thing it is. Willie Nelson is also up for a few and we figured it would be nice to share this beautiful song they recorded together, featuring a classic Willie guitar solo on his beloved classical guitar Trigger.

Julian Lage – “Splendor Riot”

Known for his guitar chops and background in jazz this album is truly unique. At times country or R&B it also sometimes sounds like a rockin’ indie album…Only instrumental.

Childish Gambino – “This is America”

The song alone is a monumental work and a powerful commentary on American society. It is also nominated for best music video for a good reason. Go watch the video.

Cedric Burnside – “Death Bell Blues”

Start to finish, this record is incredible. This guy has channeled some of the absolute greats in his delivery and recording style, including his father (blues drummer Calvin Jackson) and grandfather (the great R.L. Burnside). But make no mistake, Cedric has his own groove and own style. Benton County Relic is up for Best Traditional Blues Record and man it’s a doozie.

Special Consensus (w/ 10 String Symphony, Alison Brown, & John Hartford) – “Squirrel Hunters”

Greg Cahill and crew really crafted a gem of a record with Rivers & Roads. It’s chock full of some of the best playing we’ve heard. However, it’s hard to resist choosing this version of one of our favorite fiddle tunes, in which the band (plus our friends Rachel Baiman & Christian Sedlemeyer, as well as Alison Brown) built the recording around a previously unreleased track of our one of our favorite musicians of all time, John Hartford. Just awesome to hear it brought to life this way.

Sister Sadie – “Raleigh’s Ride”

Aside from being amazing singers, these ladies sure can pick. This is one kick-ass instrumental! We’re thrilled to share this category with them.

Los Texmaniacs – “Mexico Americano”

Shout out to some of our fellow Austinites. This heartfelt song speaks for itself. Their record Cruzando Brothers is up for Best Regional Mexican Music Album and it’s awesome.

Lady Gaga – “Shallow”

Not much to say here. We love Lady Gaga. Quite the vocal performance.

Brad Mehldau Trio – “De-Dah”

This trio has achieved acclaim in the jazz world and beyond for their compositions and performances. Though Brad himself is nominated for his solo on this song the band is jammin’ right there with him the entire time.

Punch Brothers – “All Ashore”

Of course Punch Brothers are amazing musicians but what’s more impressive is their limitless ability to take the bluegrass quintet to new realms.

Post Malone – “Psycho”

Post Malone grew up in Grapevine, Texas, and released his first major hit on SoundCloud. This is his second album which showcases his vast blending of musical styles and influences.

Others that we love: Mary Gauthier, Loretta Lynn, John Prine, Fantastic Negrito, Travis Scott, St. Vincent, Loretta Lynn, Leon Bridges, The Wood Brothers… so, so many more.

Want to Write a Protest Song? Read This First

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

“There’s no such thing as someone else’s war
Your creature comforts aren’t the only things worth fighting for
Still breathing, it’s not too late
We’re all carrying one big burden, sharing one fate.”
                                                                                                  — Jason Isbell, “White Man’s World”

If one musical phenomenon united the year 2018 from the very moment the ball dropped over Times Square, it was the protest song. The soundtrack of the resistance clearly had enough time to percolate, deliberate, and incubate since our 45th president’s administration began in January 2017, because protest emerged as a recurring theme.

In the summer of 2017, Americana speak-your-mind hero Jason Isbell may have been the earliest adopter with “White Man’s World,” where he was decrying his own privilege while championing our common humanity and our shared fate. A year later, string band virtuosos Punch Brothers went so far as to name the elephant in the room and describe him thusly on “Jumbo:” “Whoa, here comes Jumbo with a knife and a tan/ And an elephant’s tail for his Instagram/ Grown up brave on the fat of the land of the free…”

Falling in line with this common theme, in an interview earlier this year River Whyless’ drummer Alex Waters described their creative process for their latest album, Kindness, A Rebel, as grappling with the fact that, “it’s just hard to avoid the elephant in the room as far as the current political situation and feeling like we didn’t say or do enough.” Boston-based bluegrass outfit, the Lonely Heartstring Band, opted to protest by not protesting — a press release described their single, “The Other Side,” as, “a song that takes no sides, but encourages empathy and understanding for people regardless of political beliefs.” Korby Lenker and Nora Jane Struthers took that perspective directly to far-right cable television show, Huckabee, performing a co-written plea for the sanctity of the dinner table, “Let’s Just Have Supper.”

Several issues arise when you start to consider the commonalities between all of these songs, the coincidence of their releases, and the apparent level to which political mayhem must reach before the greater community sees these songs as necessary. Look, we’ve got at least two more years of this level of political division and discourse ahead of us. Before you sit down to write your scathing, politically-minded, resistance-inspired anthem perhaps consider these few questions and suggestions:

Is this your story to tell?

Story songs and character songs can be sensationally moving and evocative, and they’re an integral part of American roots music’s songwriting traditions, but writers should be careful not to simply co-opt and capitalize on stories, concepts, ideas, and experiences of a marginalized person or group of people. Try not to appropriate any identity or culture, especially if there are marginalized voices out there already telling these stories. Which leads us neatly to the next question:

Is a marginalized or underprivileged person already telling this story?

One of the best ways folks can utilize their privilege to support resistance and activism is to pointedly and intentionally step aside to let a marginalized person own their own stories, their truths, and to be able to speak to those stories and truths. Ask yourself if telling a certain story, especially someone else’s story, could deny someone else their agency. Use your privilege, whether it be simply tied to your identity or to your professional position, to bring in the voices of forgotten folks who are already telling these stories. Use their points of view to strengthen and reinforce yours, rather than assuming that, by taking on these stories of our own accord, we’re strengthening and reinforcing those who don’t have the access or advantages that we have.

Furthermore, is this song already written?

Consider how galvanized our intersectional movements can be if we draw upon all of our constituent strengths from each and every individual’s personal story. Think of the power of protest music from across the generations. If your song is “already written,” it doesn’t mean that your feelings and your convictions are invalid. It means you aren’t alone. Your goals are the goals of someone — perhaps many someones else. Sometimes you just don’t need to reinvent the wheel.

Stay away from rhetoric such as “we’re better than this,” “this is not who we are,” “we should go back to the way things used to be,” etc.

Ask yourself if the particular phenomenon you’re writing about is truly unprecedented and unique to this era. For instance, indigenous Americans’ experiences are erased if we allow ourselves to believe the narrative that this is the first time our country has detained and imprisoned thousands of children. What about decrying the travel ban on majority-Muslim countries? Not a new occurrence, either. Mourning innocent drone deaths? Those casualty numbers actually don’t neatly correlate to which party holds the White House, as one might assume.

Try to avoid opining for “normalcy” or to “go back to normal.”

As individuals from almost any marginalized people group in this country would be happy to report, there is not an “again” to which we can return the United States that would truly be best, better, or “great” for all Americans. Whether we’re talking about Native Americans, stolen African slaves, African Americans, Americans with disabilities, LGBTQ+ Americans, or women in America — none of these groups have ever enjoyed a period of time in this country that was truly, equally great for any or all of the above. Wishing for something that never existed, except perhaps to the most privileged Americans throughout history, is the self-fulfilling prophecy of erasure at work. There ain’t no such thing as the good ol’ days.

Consider your audience, but not too closely.

Are you writing a protest song knowing that the majority, if not the entirety, of your audience already agrees with you? If so, why? Landing ourselves in echo chambers of our own political and ideological views doesn’t actually do anyone any good. Are you writing the song as a pat on the back? However, having an audience that may diametrically oppose your personal beliefs doesn’t mean that any subject, any cause, or any identity, is yours to take on as your gauntlet. Keep in mind, the most relatable songs, especially politically-minded or motivated songs, are at their best when they’re truly personal.

Speak to your own experiences, unapologetically, and speak to others’ as they relate to yours. It’s called being human. But, don’t get too bogged down considering your audience, either. If you find yourself debating whether or not a song is right for a certain audience, it’s time for a privilege check. Is your anti-gun anthem the best fit for an audience in rural Montana? Maybe not. But consider the artists and songwriters out in the world whose identities are already politicized. The trans artist. The songwriter who uses a wheelchair. An artist of color.

There is no choice, when any of these artists come into the spotlight, of whether or not the political statement of their very existence is too much for their audience. If you are able to avoid a certain song or a political point of view for the convenience of potentially not offending someone, you have an ability that many artists do not possess. That should be in the front of your mind each time you take the stage to find an audience with which you might not feel totally comfortable. For some artists, every audience conjures that feeling. Directly in the face of their art.

Are you simply, innocently following a songwriting trend?

Nope. You’re complicit. Stop. If you’re writing a protest song simply because it’s “in,” something is very broken. (Not capitalism though. That would be very much in tact.)

Write your truth!

Write what you feel. Write what pours out. Let it be personal, let it be real and vulnerable, let it process all of the confusing, complicated, and often treacherous peaks and valleys that we’ve all been crossing together these days. If you’ll stop and consider a few of these points listed above with kindness and empathy, and if you continue with only one metric against which you measure yourself, let it be this: that you are as true to yourself and your truth as you are careful and cautious with the selfhood and truths of others. Carry that with you and you almost can’t go wrong.

Isbell has it pretty much right. And he’ll be the first to admit that he wasn’t the first person to conceptualize the straightforward profundity in his lyrics. We really do all share a common fate–and our own creature comforts, however they’re provided to us, cannot be the only factors that we consider. It’s going to require active, progressive change, allyship realized as a verb, not a noun, to take what has begun as simply a quorum of protest songs from the past year and morph them into a true vehicle for change on the right side of history.

“I’m a white man living in a white man’s nation
I think the man upstairs must’a took a vacation
I still have faith, but I don’t know why
Maybe it’s the fire in my little girl’s eyes…”

Photo by Daniel Jackson

The Breakdown – Punch Brothers, ‘Antifogmatic’

Posted on by Chris Jacobs

It’s a festively boozy week on The Breakdown – Emma’s been at the drinks cabinet and so, it seems, have the Punch Brothers. Is their wild and woozy Antifogmatic even a bluegrass record? We join Noam, Gabe and Critter in London to find the answer – then track down Chris Thile in New York to steal his cocktail recipes.

LISTEN: APPLE PODCASTS • MP3

Featured Songs
“You Are”
“Don’t Need No”
“Alex”
“Rye Whiskey”
“Me And Us”
“Missy”
“The Woman And The Bell”
“Next To The Trash”
“Welcome Home”
“This Is The Song (Good Luck)”

Punch Brothers Explain What Hasn’t Changed

Posted on by Editor

The Bluegrass Situation interviewed all five members of Punch Brothers upon the release of their compelling new album, All Ashore. At the end of the individual interviews, we asked each member just one question that overlapped: “So much has changed in the music world – and even in your band’s musical evolution – over the last ten years. But what would you say has stayed the same between that first record and now?”

As one would expect from Punch Brothers – who are nominated for IBMA Instrumental Group of the Year – every member offered an interesting perspective. (Read the other interviews here.)

Gabe Witcher: “The thing that’s stayed the same is, I think, the level of excitement we all have, still, just to play music with each other. And the shared wish to keep exploring what this ensemble can do, and to keep reaching for new things. Making new discoveries. Finding new sounds. Everyone is so super committed to that on their own, but also, once we get together, it’s kind of a miracle in a way. This kind of spontaneous and natural thing that happens when new, exciting things keep popping up. Like, ‘Oh my God, that’s awesome! What is that? Remember that, save that. Let’s use that. Let’s figure out what that is.’ That has never gone away. And I think that as long as that thing’s there, we’ll continue to make music.”

Chris Eldridge: “To me, in a way it’s all the same and it’s all different. I feel like we’re doing now what we were doing then, and in a way, it doesn’t feel so different to me in terms of how we want to work on our music. … I feel like consistently from then until now, there has been a real sense of wanting to be a band. I think that’s kind of the thing. Whatever is cool about the Three Musketeers – all for one, one for all – that from the get-go was the thing and still very much is a thing.

“Everybody is playing pretty selflessly in Punch Brothers and everybody really just wants the music to be good. At the end of the day, that’s the overriding thing that’s what brought us together as people, that’s what keeps us together as people, as musicians. We all just really love music and we share a common vision about how it should be and what it can be.

“Even as people have different ideas to move things forward, most notably Thile, there’s always been a real shared sense of purpose in this band. It should be that way for any band, but somehow, sometimes, I don’t think it is. And I think that’s been one of the things that has really contributed to us still wanting to make music together and working hard on it when we do. We just love music and we always have.”

Paul Kowert: “So, we live in the most politically tumultuous time of our lifetimes. We’re in our mid-30s, that’s a big change. Among the bandmates, three of us are married and two of them have kids, so that’s a huge change. I mean, that influences the tour schedule a little bit. Besides that, I don’t know what’s really different, you know? I mean we’re just making more music.”

Noam Pikelny: “I think everyone in the band genuinely likes each other. That’s like a rare thing. Paul is in the corner, shaking his head. (laughs). But we genuinely like each other as human beings and I think we really respect each other musically. So there’s this real sense of responsibility to each other to keep this as part of our musical lives. To me that’s a beautiful thing, that this is something that we can keep coming back to over the years. It doesn’t always have to be the main project. It could go dark for a couple of years while people are doing other things, it could come back. And it feels like not that much time has passed.

“The reason we decided to transition from just an album [Thile’s 2006 project, How to Grow a Woman From the Ground] into a band is probably the same reason why we’re still making music together right now. It’s artistically rewarding and I think we decided to keep doing this beyond the first album because we felt we were just scratching the surface of what was possible. … And 12 years later, I still have this sense of, ‘Well, we’re just scratching the surface, so we’re gonna keep doing it.’ There’s still more we want to uncover.”

Chris Thile: “We love making music with each other. We crave making music with each other. When we are in the midst of other projects, no matter how much we are enjoying those other projects, there is always this feeling, like, ‘I can’t wait to get back with my boys and see what they think about this….’ I think that a mutual love and respect has resulted in a partnership that will last until one of us dies.”

Photo credit: Josh Goleman

Punch Brothers, “Three Dots and a Dash”

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

The Punch Brothers begin “Three Dots and a Dash” with their best impression of the blips of a telegraph wire — or perhaps the bouncy, cyclical polyrhythms that we most associate with the soundtracks of news programs on TV and the radio — but this low-hanging, tangible thread of metaphor and text painting quickly falls away, enshrouded and enveloped by much more complicated beauty. The Punch Brothers embrace the befuddling, confounding, sometimes overwrought detail and musical acrobatics in their composing and arranging like a magician would, painstakingly poring over every last detail of their magnum opus illusion, leaning into the unwieldy and counterintuitive, knowing that these are the most compelling and awe-inspiring moments.

“Three Dots and a Dash” anchors these more lofty components with the pulsing, beating, metronomic undercurrent. That approach keeps the entire song bound together while myriad melodic narratives may pull listeners down one of so many theatrical, cinematic rabbit holes. So, when it dawns on a listener that “Three Dots and a Dash” also references a traditional, Tiki-style cocktail — a nod to the album’s title, All Ashore, as well as an homage to the band’s love of beach-ready libations and leis being a fundamental accessory in their current stage wear — that syncopated urgency brings their ears back to the core. And then, when it’s realized that in Morse code, three dots and a dash designate the letter V, which often stands as an abbreviation for “victory,” we realize two things: first, that once again, there is never just one take away from the beautiful, complicated, string band-centered art that the Punch Brothers execute on a higher level than almost anyone else operating within similar aesthetics, today; and secondly, that complex music is not inextricably bogged down by its own intricacies, when victorious, it can be intensified, deepened, and enriched by them.

Gig Bag: The Jellyman’s Daughter

Posted on by Editor

Graham Coe and Emily Kelley, better known as The Jellyman’s Daughter, hail from the foothills of Edinburgh, Scotland, but they’re traversing the United States this fall with a new record, Dead Reckoning. With a little peek inside their Gig Bag, we get the scoop on what they’re bringing along.

Chess Board

Our tours always involve a running chess competition between the two of us, staged in the various hipster cafes we visit along the way. One of us is better at peacefully accepting defeat than the other. So, future audiences – if you notice Emily making a suspiciously numerous amount of cutting remarks towards Graham, now you’ll know why.

Ear Trumpet Labs mic

We like to perform using our ‘Myrtle’ condenser mic when we can – it’s a delight to combine our voices in the air before sending them out through the speakers. Sometimes it’s not a delight for Emily when Graham’s cello bow flies unnervingly close to Emily’s face. But we’re working on that. It’s also great to be able to put up the mic in front of our camera in a unique location and record a little video – a tour is a wonderful way to find these epic little spots.

Tea

One of the perks of living in the UK is having easy access to proper tea. Some countries seem far more interested in having plentiful supply of what amounts to hot watery juice. On the other hand we also bring plentiful supplies of Yogi Tea’s Throat Comfort which is a wonderful concoction, even if 80 percent of its effectiveness for your throat is because it’s called Throat Comfort.

Sat Nav

Our trusty sat nav has in its time taken us from the Northwest of Scotland to the Southeast of England, across Europe from Denmark down to Vienna and across the USA and Canada. We’ve often found ourselves completely devoid of phone internet signal and bearings, feeling extremely thankful that smartphones haven’t completely replaced sat navs quite yet.

Tunes

An extremely important part of any tour is a load of great new and old music. On the longer journeys taking in a full album is the preferred medium. Here’s a few notable albums we’ve been enjoying recently:

Punch Brothers – All Ashore
Phoebe Bridgers – Stranger in the Alps
Theo Katzman – Heartbreak Hits
Frightened Rabbit – The Midnight Organ Fight
Joni Mitchell – Hejira

Rearview mirror buddy

Sometimes on tour as a duo it’s not logistically feasible to bring a third, calming, mediating member along. So our solution is to bring a delightful little fabric friend that hangs from the mirror and commands an unassuming Zen-like presence in the car.

Photo credit: Graeme MacDonald

 

Artist of the Month: Punch Brothers

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

To celebrate our Artists of the Month and their brand new album, All Ashore, we interviewed each individual member of the Punch Brothers, exploring the processes, circumstances, and factors that led to the creation of this latest crop of songs. The themes and responses are just as diverse as the five men themselves and their musical approaches.

Gabe Witcher, the fiddle player – and some might say secret weapon – in Punch Brothers, has been a performer for nearly his whole life. As a kid, he toured the Southwest playing bluegrass with his family’s band; that’s how he met Chris Thile, forming a musical friendship that has spanned more than three decades. Though his stage presence is low-key, his musicianship is undeniable, playing as joyously or mournfully as a song requires. This is also true on All Ashore. [Read Gabe’s interview]

Paul Kowert came on board as bassist for the Punch Brother about 10 years ago, stepping into a band of musicians he knew casually but admired greatly. In the following decade, he’s gained even more visibility in the world of acoustic music through his band Hawktail and a gig as bassist for David Rawlings Machine. His versatility is reflected in the list of bassists he cites as influences: Edgar Meyer, Mark Schatz, and Roy Milton “Junior” Huskey. He’s quick to admit that he’s not a lyricist, yet his musical contributions definitely shape the undercurrent of the new record. [Read Paul’s interview]

Chris Eldridge, the good-natured guitarist for Punch Brothers, comes by his bluegrass pedigree honestly. As a young man, he attended innumerable shows by Seldom Scene, a pioneering ensemble whose lineup included his father, banjo player Ben Eldridge. After studying at Oberlin Conservatory, he co-founded the Infamous Stringdusters, which won three IBMA Awards following their 2007 debut project, Fork in the Road. Indeed that album title proved auspicious, as Eldridge took a different path with the formation of Punch Brothers – a rewarding partnership that a decade later has yielded their newest project. [Read Chris’s interview]

Noam Pikelny has a dry delivery only when he’s joking around. But as the banjo player in Punch Brothers, his playing is crisp, inventive, and in step with his colleagues. This is especially true on All Ashore, which explores the personal challenges of relationships as well as the growing political divide in America. This year he’s nominated for IBMA Banjo Player of the Year, while his two previous solo albums earned Grammy nominations. His Twitter bio sums it up: “Widely considered the world’s premier color blind banjoist. Punch Brother.” [Read Noam’s interview]

Chris Thile is walking briskly into the venue while chatting agreeably about Punch Brothers’ new album. He’s used to multi-tasking, of course. In addition to kicking off an extensive tour with that eclectic band, he hosts the public radio show Live From Here, and he’s also a husband and father with a lot on his mind – particularly when it comes to the state of the world. [Read Chris’s interview]

Illustrations by Zachary Johnson

Punch Brothers’ Chris Thile: Escapism and Clarity

Posted on by Editor

Chris Thile is walking briskly into the venue while chatting agreeably about Punch Brothers’ new album, All Ashore. He’s used to multi-tasking, of course. In addition to kicking off an extensive tour with that eclectic band, he hosts the public radio show Live From Here, and he’s also a husband and father with a lot on his mind – particularly when it comes to the state of the world.

This interview is the fifth and final installment in a series saluting the Bluegrass Situation’s Artist of the Month: Punch Brothers.

I want to ask about “All Ashore” being the first song on here. Do you feel like it sets the tone for this album?

I do! It sort of introduces, through a fog, a lot of the content that we are mulling over the course of the record. It feels a little bit like a curtain is rising. I like starting with the nebulous imagery. It felt right.

I looked up the phrase “man of war” and found out that it’s an armed ship, which is an interesting image to start that song.

Yeah, I saw that character as moving forcefully through her environment, with conviction, with authority, with purpose … brushing aside the distraction, getting straight to business. I don’t know remember why “man of war” got stuck in my head, but just that ship, if you’ve seen a picture of one, you can tell it means business. So I felt like it was a good way to introduce people to that character.

Maybe I’m thinking too much into this song, but I like that long intro to the song because it reflects a tense relationship. It’s like, “Is someone gonna say something here?” Was that intentional?

[Laughs] Oh yeah, absolutely, yeah it’s a prelude to the record. The record was designed as a whole, as a piece of music, almost like a nine-movement piece of music. And while we hadn’t originally intended for “All Ashore” to be the first movement of it, you have to go with your material as a composer – or in our case a five-headed composer. Eventually “All Ashore” just could not be denied as the opening gesture, in large part due to that kind of prelude. It felt like a beginning. It felt like a nice way to say hello. …

I think of a sunless dawn, I think it’s overcast, I think there’s fog. But one thing I love about music is it means those things to me, and those are the pictures I get in my head, but you might get something entirely different. Is it almost two minutes before any singing anything happens? I think it might be.

It’s pretty close.

Yeah. So I love the idea that people would be in their own heads, forming their own image, and then those first lines of the lyric basically start a dance with whatever people have started to see – whatever sort of concept people are starting to get. And then basically a ship moves on the horizon, in the form of the character of Mama. You start wondering who’s telling the story, who’s the guy that comes into the song in the second verse, and what they’re all up to.

I found on this record that your stories kind of reveal themselves over time. I felt like there are narratives in these songs and it’s a pretty complete statement. Do you look at it as a concept album?

Sure, but I also think an album that is void of concept should be regarded with high suspicion. I think any album worth listening to is a concept record. You know, I understand what people mean by “concept record,” almost like a piece of musical theater, without acting or whatever. While I don’t feel like there is a linear narrative, there is absolutely a narrative that is meant to be heard from start to finish, in sequence. We wrote it that way.

We also pointedly wanted to make sure that it still made sense in vignettes, which is how most people listen to things these days. They put their phones on shuffle or whatever. Just because that’s not the way I like to listen to music doesn’t mean that’s not the correct way to do it. So we wanted to make sure that the songs could stand on their own, but I think when experienced together, they might add up to a little bit more than when they’re listened to in short bursts.

How do the instrumentals kind of factor in this? If I’ve learned anything from your Ryman show, I need to find the recipe for the Jungle Bird and Three Dots & A Dash. Tiki drinks, right?

Yeah, Tiki culture has been one of my muses for a couple of years now but this is the first record where it’s really come to the fore. There are two different rum references in the lyrics, one in “All Ashore,” one in “Jumbo.” And of course “Three Dots & A Dash” and “Jungle Bird” are a great old-school Tiki cocktails. I feel that basically the relation is two-fold. One is that Tiki culture represents one of America’s most shameless escapist gestures. It doesn’t pretend to solve anything; it just spirits you away, no pun intended.

But what I find, ironically, is that it’s in the midst of one of those escapist gestures that I find myself able to start thinking clearly about some of the things that are troubling me. And I think my bandmates would agree. A lot of people start getting to the meat and potatoes of a topic, in communion with their fellow man, right around when the second round hits the table.

You’ve made that initial escape to the point that you can actually see your life, and our lives as a society, with a little bit of perspective. You can get a little distance from it and might actually start being able to see it for what it is, and start asking yourself the harder questions. Not that you are expecting answers, but to even just ask the question, I think, and to discuss the various questions turning over in your collective minds is a worthy exercise. So all of these lyrics are the result of that kind of conversation. And so, naming those two instrumentals after Tiki drinks is symbolic of those conversations.

I like the fact that you sing in falsetto, because it can really expand where you go with your vocal, and the melody too, for that matter. Why does that falsetto voice appeal to you with the music you are making?

We’re chasing achieving the melodies we hear. If we limited the melodies that we wrote to what fits in my vocal range, my full-voice vocal range, we’d be far more limited than if we expanded to include falsetto. Something like the “Angel of Doubt” melody, for instance, we didn’t start that off going, “Yeah, you know what would be cool is if you sang about half the time in falsetto.” It’s just that’s where the melodies were headed. Also I think there’s a sensitivity and an intimacy to falsetto, to my ear. It’s almost like a request to come closer. A sort of intimacy to it that even if the melody starts taking us thither, then maybe I’ll start considering what lyrics are going to be sung in falsetto. Like if I’m going to deliver this in falsetto, then that comes in a certain character.

I find that interesting that you mentioned character. That must be refreshing to sometimes write from a perspective that isn’t necessarily yours. Is that the case?

Oh, I find it necessary to my sanity. I feel like if I were invariably seeing the world from my own perspective, it’s experientially incestuous or something. I crave seeing the world through other people’s eyes. To me, good art always lifts me out of my experience of the world and places me in someone else’s. And then I see things a little bit more clearly with each great piece of art that I encounter. That the lyric changes the perspective, even within the songs, I think that exposes a certain preference on my part, I’ll say. Or a certain hunger for multiple perspectives.

Even like “Jumbo,” for instance, even though that is satire, clearly, it’s trying to make a point. I think it’s a fairly clear indictment of the perspective from which it’s coming. Even still, part of that is an attempt to understand where that perspective is coming from.

That song went over pretty well at the Ryman. How is “Jumbo” treating you out on tour? Are people responding to it well?

[Laughs] I think so. I think it is probably difficult to get all the words, live, so it’s always amusing to see what people react to. And sometimes I think they might be reacting to something that if they were to see the lyric on paper, or what the actual statement is, maybe they might still laugh but they wouldn’t whoop and holler about it. It’s interesting how much tension is in the air right now. For us, as a society, there’s so much tension in the air you can cut it with a knife. And so a song like “Jumbo,” or “Just Look at This Mess,” and maybe “It’s All Part of the Plan” as well, it lets some of the tension out. Hopefully it can be cathartic for people who are completely mystified by the state of our country and our world right now.

Illustration: Zachary Johnson
Photo credit: Josh Goleman

Punch Brothers’ Noam Pikelny: Getting Inside the Story

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Noam Pikelny has a dry delivery only when he’s joking around. But as banjo player in Punch Brothers, his playing is crisp, inventive, and in step with his colleagues. This is especially true on All Ashore, a new release that explores the personal challenges of relationships as well as the growing political divide in America. This year he’s nominated for IBMA Banjo Player of the Year, while his two previous solo albums earned Grammy nominations. His Twitter bio sums it up: “Widely considered the world’s premier color blind banjoist. Punch Brother.”

This interview is the fourth of five installments as the Bluegrass Situation salutes the Artist of the Month: Punch Brothers.

When I was at your show at the Ryman, you were usually turned toward the band but I could never tell if you were singing. Do you sing with the guys on the songs?

I sing on a few things, but not much on this record. I actually don’t think I sing any harmony on this record.

Is that by choice or have they tried to convince you otherwise? Why is that?

Usually, like when I’m singing at all, it’s because we have like five part harmony going on. And I think it has to do with my range. I have the most limited vocal range of anybody in the band. But that was how I was born. I was born that way, it’s not my fault! … And then on the one song I sang on, on the last record, they invited everybody else in the universe to sing on it. On the song “Little Lights” that was on The Phosphorescent Blues. And so I think it essentially the policy that if Noam is allowed to sing, then everybody is allowed to sing. It’s only fair to have a one-hundred person overdub. I can’t hear myself because of all these people.

A couple of you have mentioned what’s going on in the country right now as inspiration. I think it’s on everyone’s mind, but why does it seem like a good inspiration for a song? Like “Jumbo,” for example. Why do you think it lent itself to writing a song?

Well, I think on a more macro level, I think it’s really important to be sticking to your guns. I think a lot of people are demoralized and questioning whether what they’re creating or what they’re doing for a living is valid in times when it seems like a lot of them are under assault. I know for me personally that having an opportunity to make music with musical co-patriots was very crucial. I feel like there’s such division right now in this country. I think people are thriving on families being alienated from each other. You think of the Thanksgiving dinner that becomes so troublesome. Friends are becoming alienated through all kinds of political differences and I feel like our sense of community and our sense of comradery as a whole is kind of under assault.

I think parsing through what’s going on in our lives right now, a solo project can be quite lonely. I think we find strength in working with each other and we have the ability to hone our thoughts with each other around, as far as what’s important to us and what we want to say. For “Jumbo” in particular, why does this make for good music? Or why is this musical inspiration? I ultimately thought that these people are like the protagonists that are Jumbo and his cohorts, they spend most of their time celebrating themselves. And we just wanted to get in on the action and celebrate them as well. So it’s really a celebration, more than anything.

It’s a fun melody if you just listen at the surface level. How’s it going over live? It seems like one that people would be responding to?

I think people are responding to a lot of it. [Playing live] is a huge component of the musical journey of this music. Making a record is obviously the most concrete and typical manifestations of the music. But the journey really is just beginning once that’s finished and we start playing it live, getting audience feedback, and shaping the song for the live experience. We’re flattered that people are enjoying it and starting to know the words.

Gabe that told me that you have a good story from being on Letterman. Do you have a minute to tell that story?

Oh, I’m not sure exactly what he’s referring to. I mean we got to go on Letterman about eight to nine years ago and play with Steve Martin. He announced that he was doing this yearly banjo award – it seems like a long time ago, it was nine years ago now. So, it was one of the more surreal experiences of a lifetime, getting to be up there with Steve Martin and Dave Letterman.

You were the first one to get that award. I remember when that started. Since then, a lot of your peers have been recognized. This sounds like a weird question, but is there like a banjo community or like an instant friendship when you meet another banjo player?

Um, there’s a secret banjo cult that meets in a cave in Horse Mouth, Kentucky, on the third Saturday of every month. And everyone’s totally cloaked and in these robes that are covered in banjo tablature… No, there’s no secret society – or if there is, I haven’t been invited yet which probably makes sense. But I think there’s an instant kinship with anybody else who’s pursuing music as their life’s work. And I think any instrumentalist, you always want to pow-wow and talk about their techniques and who they studied with, so I think there’s an extension in that way.

I wanted to ask you about songwriting collaboration. The way I understand is that everybody wrote the music together and then crafted the stories on top of the music. Is that pretty accurate? What was the process like?

We write the music instrumentally first, as a band, and that’s often with the five of us in the room. Oftentimes, Thile will be kind of singing, just gibberish, or a few words he has stuck in his head that associates with that music. Sometimes, those couple words will become the kernel of the song, and we’ll shape it around that. He often goes off and starts writing lyrics and brings it back for collective input, and we’ll help edit and shape the lyrics.

Sometimes we’ll have late-night discussions over cocktails or a drink, talking about what’s going on in our lives, whether it’s our familial environment or what’s going on in the world right now, and he’ll go off and try to capture that collective thought into a lyric. So it’s always different, but interestingly in Punch Brothers, the lyrics almost always come last. We write placeholder lyrics first, then that’s the final but obviously very crucial element.

Are you a good lyricist? Do you enjoy contributing in that way?

I don’t consider myself a true lyricist. I really do enjoy the process of working with the lyricist. And I feel it’s an effective kind of partnership to them to have Thile leading the charge in that way, but then having this kind of counsel for feedback that can be brutally honest.

You just got married this year right?

Correct. A few months ago.

So this album has a song like “All Ashore,” which is about a relationship falling apart, but then you’re a newlywed. In order to get into a character, do you have to set your personal life out of mind when you perform a song like that? How do you separate the two?

Well, no, I think “All Ashore” isn’t about the collapse. It’s more about the challenges. It’s the struggle and the ups and downs, the ebb and flow, to quote the song itself. But you know, when we get up and play a song like “Molly and Tenbrooks,” which is a racehorse song, I don’t feel like I have to identify personally with the jockeys or the horses … but I think it’s really important to get inside the story of the song and as you perform it, you can really deliver the intent of it.

And so there might be a difference of whoever is the lead singer. You’d have to ask Chris how it’s different, whether it’s sung from the first person, or a narrator, or an actor. All of those roles probably come into play on different material and especially on covers that we do. … I think you can emphasis the story even if you don’t see yourself in that story. That’s the case in music and in real life. I think being an instrumentalist, I’m trying to support the singer by helping him deliver the intent of the song. I make the story more vivid through the way that I play it.

Illustration: Zachary Johnson

Punch Brothers’ Chris Eldridge: Influences and Integrity

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Chris Eldridge, the good-natured guitarist for Punch Brothers, comes by his bluegrass pedigree honestly. As a young man, he attended innumerable shows by Seldom Scene, a pioneering ensemble whose lineup included his father, banjo player Ben Eldridge. After studying at Oberlin Conservatory, he co-founded the Infamous Stringdusters, which won three IBMA Awards following their 2007 debut project, Fork in the Road. Indeed that album title proved auspicious, as Eldridge took a different path with the formation of Punch Brothers – a rewarding partnership that a decade later has yielded their newest project, All Ashore.

This interview is the third of five installments as the Bluegrass Situation salutes the Artist of the Month: Punch Brothers.

When I saw you guys at the Ryman, I noticed you were wearing a Hawaiian lei, so I take that as a sign that things are going well on the tour. What’s the vibe so far?

The vibe has been really fun and it’s great because the band’s back together, as they say. We’ve been connected, all of us in various ways, even in this time off from the band. I see Thile a bunch because I’m usually playing guitar on Live From Here. Paul lives really close to me, so I see him like every other day in Nashville. And Noam is close, and I see Gabe, but to have all of us in the same place out on the road for me is a really fun thing because one of the real privileges of my life is getting to play music in Punch Brothers, getting to be the guitar player in a band with those guys.

One of my favorite songs on this record is “The Gardener.” I feel like it sets a nice tone and tells a hopeful story. Tell me what the band was hoping to capture with that song.

Well, the music was started on that years and years ago, probably in 2012. We were in London doing a thing with T Bone Burnett for a movie and this simple melody kinda just sprung up. We were trying to brainstorm some stuff for this movie and it almost sounded like a Christmas carol. And so it was this thing that we always really liked, and we didn’t give it to that project that we were there working on. We wanted to hold it close to our chest and keep it ourselves. It was something that we had sitting around, even for The Phosphorescent Blues, but we just didn’t develop it into anything.

And then Thile had come up with that kind of weird, modulating, tonally ambiguous guitar that starts the song. He showed that to me and it was really cool. The way it works for us is, we always work on music before there’s any content, in terms of story. That’s pretty much how it tends to progress for the band. We’re definitely a music-first band. So it was a matter of making both of those ideas interesting. And the original idea from 2012, the Christmas carol idea, was really neat and we really liked it but it had a limited amount of development. A lot of Punch Brothers music, the song will have to have a certain amount of development. It’ll tend to go places. Usually we won’t just repeat a thing over and over.

And as we were trying to develop that, someone had the idea, “What happens if we do that crazy, weird, finger-picked guitar thing — the ambiguous tonal thing – and pop it together?” We had to change the key around a little bit but we found a key relationship that worked and it solved this problem.

So then it’s a matter of figuring out what the song is going to be about. Thile had this idea about a gardener, some guy kinda tending. You know, because the music is not lonely exactly but there’s like a forlorn imagination, like optimistic vibes, that are encoded into the sound of that melody. So it was trying to find a story to go along with it. And it dovetailed with a lot of the things that we’ve been thinking about and talking about as a band, in terms of society today. People who have things and people who don’t have things. People who feel protective of themselves and their tribe. It’s a meditation on a lot of those kinds of thoughts. I’m barely touching on them, but that’s kind of where it came from.

You guys would make a pretty cool Christmas record. Has that ever come up?

We’ve talked about it before. I don’t know if we’ll ever do it, but I think that would actually be really fun. There are so many cool, beautiful songs. Really timeless, gorgeous melodies. There is some solid music there in that canon of holiday music. It’s so hard to get everybody’s schedules to align now. People have three children in the band at this point, and three wives, and essentially all of us are in completely and deeply committed relationships … and we’re all older. The band can’t sit totally in first place anymore, which is necessitated by having families and that’s now the most important thing. So we really have to be deliberate about our time and it means that we don’t do as much stuff together – but when we do, we try to really make it count. That being said, I would love to make a Christmas record.

I thought with your connection to Seldom Scene, I’d ask if you knew John Duffey well.

I didn’t know him that well, but I certainly grew up around him. John didn’t really know how to relate to little kids. I have a lot of memories of being around John, just being around the band, but I didn’t really interact with him much until towards the very end of his life. We’re talking probably the last less-than-six months he was alive really. He started to acknowledge me because I was probably 13 or 14 years old. I was just getting to the age where he related to me as more than just a small child. I was starting to feel a little more like someone he could relate to.

I remember the last time I saw him alive. I was sitting backstage at the Birchmere. They have these big chairs and I was sitting in one of them. He came up behind me and just scruffed me by the hair and said, “Hey there, guy.” That’s kind of where the story ends but I was just so blown away, like, “Whoa! John Duffey just talked to me!” That was an amazing thing!

I have very clear memories of the sound of his voice. I probably went to hundreds of Seldom Scene shows and I heard those guys play hundreds of times when I was a kid and the sound of Duffey’s tenor, the sound of his mandolin playing, the sound of Mike Auldridge’s Dobro bouncing off the walls. That stuff is burned so deeply within me. I’m so thankful and grateful for that. It’s this crazy privilege that I was just born to have those experiences. As I get older, I appreciate more and more how cool it was. But I don’t think I ever really took it for granted. I loved the music, I loved the sound of that band from the time I was a boy.

I know that Tony Rice is one of your heroes too. How has his music shaped the music that you’re making now?

Oh man, profoundly. He provided such a great example of musical integrity. In terms of rhythm, not just rhythm guitar playing, but actual timing, his sense of time and elegance and grace and power and intelligence – all these things that I really try to emulate. The goal was never to be a clone of Tony. I mean, it’s easy to learn the note that he plays. It’s not that hard but I feel like once you do that, then the real learning begins. What’s he doing with those notes? Why is it so good when he plays them? What’s going on there? That to me is when the rubber hits the road and that has everything to do with his musicianship and his sensibility. And so those are the lessons that I studied so hard and it affected my outlook and approach to how I want to present music on acoustic guitar. And just music in general.

But I would argue that Tony had strong ideas about that and his enormous integrity to those kind of musical values was really influential to everybody in the acoustic music community. His high level of musicianship – and how he retains some of the essence of bluegrass, the rhythmic essence – sets the stage for a lot of the modern music that we like. And certainly Punch Brothers. Certainly all of us were deeply influenced by that example of musicianship.

Illustration: Zachary Johnson