Cadillac Sky Plans Reunion for 20th Anniversary of Blind Man Walking

When Cadillac Sky released their full-length label debut, Blind Man Walking, in 2007, they soon found that they had created something much bigger than anticipated. In many ways, Blind Man Walking and the two albums that followed, Gravity’s Our Enemy in 2008 and Letters in the Deep in 2010, were prescient moves — experimental fusions of rock, jazz, “prog-grass,” country, acoustic, and roots music that paved the way for a new wave of bluegrass artists.

During those years, band members Bryan Simpson (vocals/songwriter/mandolin), Matt Menefee (banjo), Ross Holmes (fiddle), and Andy Moritz (bass) took traditional bluegrass into then-unlikely realms. In addition to other lineup changes along the way, Simpson left the band in 2010, and after completing what became their final tour in 2011, Cadillac Sky announced their “indefinite hiatus.”

The four musicians who’d been with the band since Blind Man Walking pursued other projects, but their paths continued crossing. Menefee and Holmes launched the band ChessBoxer, opened for Bruce Hornsby, and recorded and toured with Mumford & Sons. In 2018, Menefee started The Hit Points, and in 2022, co-founded Wood Box Heroes. Simpson launched The Whistles & The Bells, with Menefee and Holmes joining him, and The Golden Age, with Menefee. Moritz returned to Houston, where he and his wife raised their family, and dedicated himself to teaching orchestral bass and authoring bass-instruction books. Holmes joined the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band in 2018, continuing through their farewell tour in June 2026.

Through it all, the legacy of Cadillac Sky never faded. Nor did the loyal fan base, who continued listening to their albums, following the new projects, and hoping for a reunion. They’ll soon get their wish: On January 29, 2027, Cadillac Sky will reunite onstage in Nashville to celebrate the twentieth anniversary of Blind Man Walking.

With the promise of new music to come, the band participated in a conference call with BGS to discuss the past, present, and future.

The Beginning

Bryan Simpson: I started the band a long time ago. I was writing songs and had so many that didn’t fit in the genre and marketplace I was writing for. I loved string band music and bluegrass, and my goal was to come up with players and play original music. At age 10, I had Pete Wernick from Hot Rize’s book How to Make a Band Work, and I read it over and over because I loved the concept of being in a band. I would look at Bluegrass Unlimited ads for festivals and wish I could do that. You [start a band], travel around, and learn that it’s difficult. In Cadillac Sky, we were all different ages and places in our maturity, but it had its own signature because we were from New Mexico and Texas, which are not necessarily known for deep bluegrass roots.

Andy Moritz: They grabbed me from another band in Houston. My involvement was supposed to be four or five dates. I thought I was just covering for their old bass player, and it turned out to be a long-form audition. The next thing you know, I was in for the ride, and it was a fabulous ride, incredible, but rides have ups and downs. Traveling as a band is like a family; you argue, but there is love. We lasted longer than a lot of bands because there was love and respect. When it came apart, it was like a piece of me got ripped into.

Matt Menefee: I was born and raised in New Mexico. My grandpa played and sang bluegrass. I got my start in the world of music through video games. It freaked my parents out, so they said, “Here’s a banjo, go play with Grandpa.” We moved to Texas and I played in all kinds of bands, different types of music, marching band and jazz band in school, and tried to fit the banjo into situations like that. I met Bryan at a benefit. He was a songwriter, I thought that was cool, and we decided to do this. Cadillac Sky was my first legit band and it was an incredible journey.

Ross Holmes: I started out with Texas contest-style fiddle. Bryan and I had the same teacher, although we didn’t know each other. I was into Western swing and he was into bluegrass. I met Matt first, and we started a band with a guitar player, called Ellis County Line. We recorded some songs, but we never played. I met Matt, then Bryan met Matt, he passed my number along to Bryan, and we got together and talked about his vision for Cadillac Sky. When we cut Blind Man Walking, at that moment for all of us it was, “This is special.” It was unlike anything in bluegrass at the time and it gave us a sense of purpose. We did the thing until the thing expired for the reasons bands break up. It was a powerful first chapter that set us all up for everything that has come since then.

The Reunion

Simpson: We’re all friends and have maintained friendships, so it wasn’t that crazy to call them and say, “Let’s celebrate twenty years of that record.” It seemed like a good place to start again and see how it felt. As simple as it sounds, we like having fun and creating music together. This is a special thing. We have the songs, the sound, and it’s all four of us diving in with equal voices. Back in the day, I was the voice and making decisions, and that didn’t work out very well. This time, we all respect each other’s voices more than ever and give each other room to grow.

Holmes: The last time the four of us were together was in the fall of 2010, in Milwaukee, on the road with Mumford & Sons, which we didn’t know would be our final tour. It was easy to be around the guys again because we’ve all worked in other projects and for those of us who live in Nashville, it’s inevitable that you’ll run into each other. When Bryan reached out about a Cadillac Sky reunion, there was joy from all of us because this was an integral part of us. It’s how we cut our teeth in this business. I’m grateful to be in this situation and turn to the thing I love so much — my passion, my work, my fiddle — and find comfort in that, especially revisiting songs that meant so much to us then and still do, and hopefully will mean as much to the people who have listened to them over the years and wished we’d do something again.

Moritz: You go in not knowing what this version of yourself, and the bunch of you, will be like in this situation. We started going through some tunes, and pretty quickly it was evident that there was a lot of magic, that this is happening, and it’s special and cool and we need to pursue that. I always enjoy spending time with and playing with these guys. We’re musical soulmates, and the way we’re approaching it this time — the level of professionalism, respect, open minds, and open voices — we’re in this together and it’s been great.

Menefee: I agree with all of that. [Since Cadillac Sky], we’ve done session work, freelance things, continued making music, toured, and had a lot of fun and grand adventures. When we had that first rehearsal [after Bryan called], it was nice to hear those tunes again. And here we are.

The Future

Simpson: We have plans for new music. The last thing we want is someone having a sentimental feeling, [thinking] “Oh, that’s sweet, they’re trying to play their old songs.” Our goal is to hit the speed we were once playing at. What we have in our back pocket is sixteen years of playing onstage with other people to influence the way we play together in 2027. People have open minds toward music now more than ever, and if you have something to offer, they’re willing to add you to their playlist. With everything you put out in the world, if you give something good, something good will come back. If we divulge a bit of ourselves and put ourselves out there, that’s a powerful thing.

Holmes: We’ve gone through a lot over sixteen years apart. We’re different people and better people. We’ve grown up. We’re better players and better thinkers, all trying to serve the songs the best way and treat the music with an acknowledgement of what we were capable of then and what we accomplished, but with a sense of maturity and energy that feels natural.

Moritz: When we were touring, everybody did not embrace the things we were doing. There was an old guard/new guard thing going on and that got to be a bit of a challenge, being on that cutting edge. But look at what the music’s done since we’ve taken a break. The music community has embraced the things we were trying to bring to the table, period, but particularly the bluegrass community. That’s been really encouraging, to see that in some ways, we were right. We were on to some good ideas. Now, other people have taken that ball and run with it, and we’re excited to get back on the playing field.


Pictured (L-R): Bryan Simpson, Matt Menefee, Andy “Panda” Moritz, Ross Holmes

Ross Holmes, “Overture”

An instrument as agèd, storied, and established as the violin — henceforth in this piece obstinately referred to as “fiddle” — carries with it vestiges and artifacts of its own history into any/all of its new musical forays. It’s one of the most charming qualities of the instrument, that whether a rosin-laden bow grinds and saws against the strings or whether it floats, gently ringing an intransigent harmonic, a fiddle is still a fiddle. It is the sum of its disparate parts. 

Many virtuosos, hobbyists, and career musicians have staked their entire artistic worldviews on the paradoxes contained within the instrument. We in roots music quite often enjoy the musical aftereffects, songs and compositions that gleefully train magnifying glasses on paradigms such as classical versus jazz, old-time tunes versus minuets and cadenzas, or perhaps a chamber orchestra versus a square dance band. Ross Holmes, a session player, composer, and fiddler (Nitty Gritty Dirt Band, Mumford & Sons), counts himself among the violinist vanguard tinkering with the existential building blocks of the violin fiddle – a tradition and subculture he grew up with. “Overture,” an original, grandiloquent composition from Holmes, is something of a manifesto on the concept. (Listen below.)

The nearly fifteen-minute-long piece is performed entirely solo, beginning with a meditative, droning theme that Holmes describes as a “secular prayer.” As he carefully, intricately unspools each melodic turn, infusions from across the map — geographical and genre — are delivered directly from Holmes’ brain-as-musical-sponge to the listener’s ear. Each fluttering bow stroke, aggressive shuffle, and stunning double-stop speaks to the contributions of the fiddle in nearly every culture on earth. Throughout “Overture,” these global influences reflect the United States’ “melting pot” status — the greater piece for which this is the overture, after all, is titled: American Fiddle Suite. (Its remaining movements are a work-in-progress.)

Fiddling, by its nature, will be an outgrowth of all of the history, culture, and art that has flowed through it over the course of its centuries-long existence. What distinguishes Holmes and “Overture,” however, is the intention with which he connects all of these widespread dots. It makes sense, it’s tangible, and at its essence, it’s beautiful. It’s all the more impressive then, that though “Overture” is an entirely composed, ostensibly “classical” piece, not a note is yet written down. Holmes plays it all by memory — his memory, and the fiddle’s, too.


Photo credit: Micah Mathewson

BGS 5+5: Ross Holmes

Artist: Ross Holmes
Hometown: Fort Worth, Texas
Latest album: Not Very Good at Winning
Nickname: ‘Rooster’ is a nickname that has lingered since the glory days of Cadillac Sky.

What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?

I can’t say I have one favorite memory from being onstage, but I do have a great story about a particular gig in late 2014. As a native Texan, there isn’t a more sacred shrine than the Alamo. I’d been invited to perform at an annual ceremony in March of ’14 inside the Alamo chapel. I wound up composing an original piece an hour before the event honoring those who perished in the fight.

An iPhone recording I made of the piece, “We Fall a Sacrifice,” made its way to Phil Collins (who is an avid collector of artifacts from the battle of the Alamo and war for Texas independence), and I was invited to perform this tune again at a ceremony honoring Phil for the donation of his extensive collection to the state.

We took it a step further and, with permission from the Witte Museum in San Antonio, borrowed Davy Crockett’s supposed fiddle for the gala. Here I was, onstage with Crockett’s fiddle at the Alamo, playing this piece I’d written, in the presence of presidents, politicians, astronauts, sports legends, and recognized Texans. My sister, Katie Shore (Asleep at the Wheel), joined me for the set and, to this day, we still laugh at the absurd “WTF just happened” of that evening.

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

Imagery and color stimulate my musical thinking the most. I often turn on films or pull out prints of my favorite artists to glean inspiration from their creativity while I practice. The imagination of others is revelatory and channeling the intent of these minds has helped me grow as a composer and player.

Try this sometime: turn on Planet Earth, mute your TV, and play a soundtrack for the episode as you’re watching. Let the dynamic environment of each scene take you to a place of quiet calm or intense fear. You’ll be amazed at what comes out, maybe a familiar idea you filed away will emerge again, or maybe a new melody or groove will come to you. If anything, it’s really fun to provide fiddle accompaniment to snakes chasing lizards and sloths chilling on a branch.

What rituals do you have, either in the studio or before a show?

I don’t have a set routine when I record or when I take the stage, as those environments are always changing. I do, though, have a special relationship with my case and the process of opening it and taking out my violin and bow. My case is my home-away-from-home and inside I keep a small, personal collection of memories. I find it’s a spiritual experience to unlatch and lift the lid, remove the blanket over my violin, and prepare my heart and mind to play. Those first moments are filled with thoughts and energy, like a prayer, and the respect I show my instrument feels like an abiding friendship when the first notes come so easily.

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

Early in my career I focused, obsessively, on being the “best” player I could be — the most technical, cleanest, impressive, etc., because I felt those skills would prove to listeners I was “elite.” Time has gone by, life has happened, victories and losses, the ups and downs that come with this profession, then something clicked a couple of years ago. I arrived at a point where I didn’t care about being the “best” anymore (thank god), and a new word replaced that selfish adjective — HONEST. I will always push the limits and challenge boundaries, but now my heart’s desire is to simply be the most honest musician I can be. That’s my mission statement, “In all things, be honest.” That’s it.

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

There’s no hiding that I’m a bona fide space junkie, completely taken with the cosmos and the notion of leaving earth on the greatest adventures to explore the deep expanse of our universe (I have a tattoo of the Apollo SM, CM, and LM on my right arm). We can’t see beyond blue skies during the day, but we know endless creation is still above us. When night falls and the sky is peeled back, the heavens are once again revealed and we sit and gaze at the mysteries between the stars.

The relationship between mankind and space and music is intrinsically linked because of curiosity and our need to explore. The greatest composers and players continue to seek new heights with their melodies, chords, and expression because that is our nature, journey to the new place. What will beings find on that golden record affixed to Voyager? Bach. Chuck Berry. Blind Willie Johnson. The human voice.


Photo credit: Allen Clark