The mandolin’s role in music has changed a lot over time and with its steady pace of change comes a constant flow of new players. Nobody plays or interprets music in the same way as anyone else, bringing plenty of new ideas and explorations.
There have been many different eras of mandolin playing in bluegrass. Ranging from the classic Bill Monroe style to David Grisman to Chris Thile – and, lately, a more string band sound is being popularized by players like Andrew Marlin. And of course, there are countless other mandolin eras beyond and in between.
The mandolin has also been used in many other genres besides bluegrass; it lends itself to genres such as Choro, jazz, classical, and pop. The mandolin even fills major arenas. There have been a lot of folks making incredible music on the instrument and though this is just a starting point, here are 12 mandolinists who you might not be familiar with, but we know you’ll love!
Jean-Baptiste “JB” Cardineau
Franco-American mandolin virtuoso Jean-Baptiste “JB” Cardineau is currently Boston-based, having graduated from Berklee College of Music. JB’s mandolin playing delves into many genres such as bluegrass, classical, old-time, and some traditional French music, too. His style is quite adventurous; he dives deep into the old-school Monroe ways, looking towards Frank Wakefield for much inspiration. JB has spent a lot of time touring with different bands, such as the Ruta Beggars, as well as his own project, JB and Cardineau Sin. As well as being an incredible instrumentalist, JB is also a gifted songwriter. Above is one of JB’s original tunes, “Si Tu Vois Ma Mandoline.” This tune blends the more traditional French style with bluegrass influences.
Ian Coury
Raised in Brazil’s capital, Brasília, Ian Coury is a masterful, well-respected 10-string mandolinist currently based in Boston. Growing up playing Choro, Ian pushes the boundaries of the genre, writing original music that has won him “Best Instrumentalist” awards from the National FM Radio Festival (2020) and second place in Brazil’s eFestival (2021). He has shared the stage with renowned musicians such as Hamilton de Holanda and Armandinho. In 2019, Coury enrolled at Berklee College of Music and later earned his master’s degree from the program. Here is Ian playing an original composition entitled “Solando no Limbo” for Mandolin Mondays.
Maddie Witler
Originally from and based in California, Maddie Witler is a phenomenal musician. Primarily known for her mandolin playing, Maddie is also an incredible guitarist and banjoist. Having also attended Berklee College of Music, Maddie was a founding member of the Boston-based bluegrass group the Lonely Heartstring Band. Maddie also used to tour with powerhouse GRAMMY-nominated band Della Mae. In 2022, Maddie released her debut solo album, Astronaut, a truly incredible compilation of all original songs and tunes from Maddie. In this video, Maddie is joined by Jacob Jolliff at Mandolin Camp North shredding on a classic bluegrass tune by Frank Wakefield, “New Camptown Races.”
Jesse Appelman
Jesse Appelman is both a gifted mandolinist and tune writer. Based in California, Jesse frequently tours with the Sam Grisman Project, as well as his own group, Jesse Appelman’s West Coast Stringband Project. His debut album, Where We Go, which was released in February, is a collection of original tunes and select cover songs and was produced by John Mailander. His tunes are mellow yet groovy, capturing anyone listening. This clip is Jesse’s rendition of “The Hills of Isle Au Haut” joined by Eli West and Patrick M’Gonigle.
Ethan Setiawan
An Indiana native who now makes his home in Maine, Ethan Setiawan is an incredible mandolinist and tunesmith. Ethan was the 2014 National Mandolin Champion, and in 2017 was the first place winner of the Rockygrass mandolin contest. He is also a graduate from Berklee College of Music, and has also done some teaching there, too. Ethan has toured with bands like the Acoustic Nomads, Corner House, and currently tours with both his duo Hildaland and his own group, Ethan Setiawan and Fine Ground. He has released a few albums of his instrumental music, Flux (2018), Gambit (2023), and Encyclopedia Mandolinnica (2025). Bringing in elements of bluegrass, classical, jazz, and Scottish music, Ethan makes his own sound and brings his listeners along for the story. Enjoy a recording of Ethan playing his original tune, “Uncrossed.”
Korey Brodsky
Originally from Connecticut and now based in Asheville, North Carolina, Korey Brodsky is both a talented mandolinist and guitarist. Yet another of our mandolinist picks who studied at Berklee College of Music, Korey has toured all over. In 2021, he joined Boston bluegrass band Mile 12 and he’s traveled and recorded with artists such as Jody Stecher, the Tray Wellington Band, Nefesh Mountain, the April Verch Band, and more. Above, Korey plays a beautiful take of a Karl Suessdorf and John Blackburn tune, “Moonlight in Vermont.”
Megan Cody
Originally from Colorado and now living in New York City, Megan Cody is a killer mandolinist as well as an incredible guitarist and singer. Fronting the band the Cody Sisters alongside her younger sister Maddie, Megan’s mandolin approach is playful and thoughtful. Megan tours year round with the Cody Sisters and frequently plays all over New York City. Here is a recording of the Cody Sisters playing a medley of a few songs and tunes.
Casey Campbell
A rare Nashville native, Casey Campbell is a fourth-generation bluegrass musician. An extraordinary mandolinist, Casey has performed with musicians like Bryan Sutton, Chris Stapleton, Vickie Vaughn, Becky Buller – and the list goes on! Casey was the 2017 winner of the IBMA’s Momentum Award for Instrumentalist of the Year. He has a duo mandolin album that was released back in 2017, Mandolin Duets: Volume One, which features Casey playing with various masters of the mandolin. In the video above, Casey is joined by Sam Bush as the two play a Jethro Burns tune in honor of Sam called “Sam’s Bush.”
Michael Prewitt
Originally from Kentucky, Michael Prewitt spent many years touring with the iconic bluegrass band Special Consensus. In 2024, he released his debut album, The Peerless Mountain Sessions, and then followed that up later that year with an incredible album of all original music, Something He Can Handle. Michael currently tours around the country with his own band, Michael Prewitt & CrunchGrass Supreme. The video above features one of Michael’s original songs, “Winnipeg” played by Prewitt with CrunchGrass Supreme.
Thomas Cassell
From Southwest Virginia, Thomas Cassell now resides in Nashville. A a founding member of the band Circus No. 9, he currently tours with the Wood Box Heroes and performs as a sideman with many other groups. Thomas has won many awards – he was the 2021 National Mandolin Champion and in 2020 he won the IBMA’s Momentum Instrumentalist of the Year Award. Thomas fronts his own band as well and has a few of his own albums out, Voyager (2018), What You Need to Prove (2022), The Never-Ending Years (2024), and he has a forthcoming album soon to be released! The video above is of Thomas’ new single, “Ramblin’ Heart,” featuring Tim Stafford. This is the first single off his upcoming album, so stay tuned.
Lauren Price Napier
Based out of Owensboro, Kentucky, Lauren Price Napier is a talented mandolinist and singer who digs deep into Monroe-style mandolin playing. Fronting the traditional bluegrass band the Price Sisters with her twin sister Leanna, Lauren has been nominated for multiple awards from the IBMA, such as Momentum Vocalist and Momentum Instrumentalist of the Year in 2019 and 2020, respectively. Lauren brings her own spin to playing traditional Monroe-style mandolin while also sticking to the roots of the genre. Above is a video of Lauren playing one of her original tunes entitled, “Tuel’s Landing.”
Tristan Scroggins
Tristan Scroggins is a GRAMMY-nominated mandolinist who also won the IBMA’s Momentum Instrumentalist Award in 2017. He spent years touring with his dad’s band, Jeff Scroggins and Colorado, but he also has a duo with violinist Alisa Rose called Scroggins & Rose and recently toured full time with Missy Raines & Allegheny. In 2019, he released an all-instrumental EP featuring his style of mandolin crosspicking called Fancy Boy. Tristan also has an ongoing, multi-volume project with fiddler George Jackson recording 100 of the most popular old-time tunes called Old Time 100. Tristan currently tours with Bronwyn Keith-Hynes. Here, Tristan is joined by fiddler Ellie Hakanson playing a bluegrass tune, “Ashland Breakdown.”
Photo Credit: Lead image (L to R), Jesse Appelman by Giant Eye Photography; Lauren Napier Price by Jay Strausser; Thomas Cassell by Scott Simontacchi.
Magoo has been lighting up Colorado’s vibrant and crowded jamgrass scene since 2022. Their collision of string band music with danceable beats, jazzed up instrumental breaks, and anthemic lyrics rooted in rock has led guitarist Erik Hill to coin the phrase “bluegrass with lasers” to describe their sound and style.
After turning heads with two volumes of Magoo The EP in 2023 and 2024, the band – now comprised of Dylan Flynn (Dobro), Courtlyn Bills (mandolin), A. Denton Turner (bass), and Hill – have finally unleashed their full-length debut, What A Life. The 10-song compilation sees the upstart group of pickers contemplating everything from the sacrifices of a life lived on the road, the places that have transformed us, and how our stories are all connected.
Across 52 minutes of run time, the musicians rip their way through meandering jams that flow freely from one song to another as if it was a live show, an approach Hill says was intentional to keep the album from feeling sterile.
“Our live shows and recordings are very important to us, so it was imperative that this album not feel so copy and paste or cut and dry like studio projects often can be,” explains Hill. “I think we landed on a nice, organic feel that stretches the songs out, but not as much as we do when you see us live. In that sense, it serves as a good bridge between the two.”
During a free-flowing conversation with the band inside the green room at The Burl in Lexington, Kentucky, midway through their winter tour, Magoo spoke about the DIY approach to What A Life, Telluride’s significance to the group, near-death experiences, and more.
Why was now the right time to release your debut record?
Erik Hill: We had all the songs that we wanted to record. With the EPs we released previously, we basically recorded the couple originals that we had at the time along with a few covers. Eventually we started collecting a nice set of original music and figured it was time to do a full-length album.
Denton Turner: A big part of it is just having all the parts in place, from our management to booking people, so we can hit the road full speed. But in order to do that right it was important we have an album out to go with it – we needed a product to market. That was a big motivator for us this year, having an album to really kick in the door and make the most of our 100+ shows this year. Getting those other pieces in place on our team gave us ample time to focus on recording. When you’re trying to do everything it’s easy to half-ass it all, so having them by our side allows us to focus on and tackle what we love – the music – head on.
And with What A Life you opted to tackle it in your own DIY studio. Tell me about that experience?
Courtlyn Bills: I’ve made about 80 records in the past, but for this one everything was set up special just to make this album. I was moving and had my dad drive up a bunch of equipment from Texas, including my console he’d been holding in storage that was previously owned by Prince.
EH: Sessions were scattered throughout the month when we weren’t touring. Any time we were able we’d try getting over to Courtlyn’s to bang out a tune or two.
CB: There were a lot of 4 a.m. sessions. The coffee pots were flowing! The only big difference from one session to the next came on the jams, which we decided to use our pedal boards on and mic them up simultaneously. The only other thing is that I changed the action in my mandolin near the end of some tunes, which is why my mandolin sounds a bit thicker to close out three songs. There was a lot of us repeatedly asking each other, “How does your instrument sound?” Because there’s no turning back now, so no pressure. [Laughs]
DT: Even though we’re coming from touring and going straight into recording and back to touring – which seems hectic in a way – it’s nice for me doing [songs] one at a time. Being in a studio can be a grueling, tedious process, so having the luxury of being able to do it ourselves when it made sense for us was nice. We were able to just focus on one song or two songs at a time and give them all our attention. It didn’t feel like we were on the clock and paying by the hour with the pressure to get it all done quickly. Instead we were able to focus on banging out a song then hitting the road and discussing what next song we want to do and develop next before coming back being ready to give that song the attention it deserves, which was a lot of fun.
Courtlyn, you mentioned having a deep catalog of producer credits already. Has it always been a goal of yours to record your own band’s projects?
CB: I first started working in a studio when I was 15, mostly with younger artists that have less developed material, which I love. However, what I don’t love recording is my own music, which is why I never made a record for myself up to this point. But the cool thing about Magoo is, even though I write for and sing a lot with them, it feels like I’m working for a band and not myself. Knowing that removed a lot of the pressure of it being a make or break thing because I could trust my dudes. If they said something was good I wouldn’t question it, I’d just say, “Let’s move on!”
If I’m not mistaken, the only song you didn’t record at the DIY studio was “Angel Of Telluride,” which you flew to Nashville to knock out with its feature artist, Sam Bush. How’d that one come about?
CB: That connection came about through Jeff Fasano, an amazing photographer who used to shoot the rock band I was in prior to Magoo. Whenever we first met I had just started playing mandolin and I remember him telling me that he could see into my soul and could tell that playing it was my destiny, not rock music. I knew he was also close to Sam, so when I eventually wrote “Angel Of Telluride” I did it to be a Sam Bush song.
One day Jeff emailed Sam about the song and once he realized we were a real band and not full of shit he gave me a call and said he’d be honored to be a part of it. When we got to recording, I remember asking him if he wanted a producer credit on the song and he turned it down even though he was still effectively acting as a producer, because every freaking note, chord change, and tone shift he hit was spot on.
DT: Sam actually beat us to the studio the day we recorded. We wound up spending the entire day hanging out with him. It reminds me of a line in “What A Life” – “Buy the ticket, take the ride.” You only get one life, so don’t shy away from taking chances and shooting for the stars. Who knows, you might just wind up at a studio in Nashville recording with one of your heroes. Working with Sam never would’ve happened if we hadn’t taken the chance, and I’m so glad we did. I hope it inspires others to bet on themselves and their abilities too.
That song also holds a lot of significance given what the Telluride Bluegrass Festival has meant to the band, notably how you wound up bringing Courtlyn into the fold. Can you tell me about that?
Dylan Flynn: Erik, myself, and my Uncle Paul [Flynn] were the original Magoo and would regularly attend and pick around at festivals like Telluride, Rockygrass, and Tico Time. Then a few years ago Courtlyn, still new to bluegrass at the time, stumbled into our campsite. We ended up picking all week, through the night until 8 a.m. each day.
Then at one point when we were watching Greensky Bluegrass perform I remember him turning to me and saying, “I want to be in your band” and I responded, “I just met you like five minutes ago. Let me talk to the guys about it first.” [Laughs] But after spending all that time with him there and seeing not just how his brain works, but also how far along he was as someone still new to bluegrass, it was a no-brainer. In the weeks after Telluride it dawned on us that he was the missing piece we needed, not just as a player but as a person as well.
We rode with that lineup for about a year until my Uncle Paul decided he wanted to step away from music to travel the world – he’s actually rooting us on from Thailand right now. But when he departed, Denton was presented to us by a mutual friend. Similar to Courtlyn, after being introduced he tagged along to play several gigs before we formally asked him to join us long-term.
DT: I still remember them proposing to me and making it official with a Slim Jim ring. I still have mine and see it every day. It’s on the bus sitting on the butter tray in our fridge. [Laughs]
Sounds like you’re preserving it like one of those Big Macs you see in a museum that’s unchanged after 20 years!
Switching gears now – Courtlyn, what led to your move from the rock world into bluegrass?
CB: I was seeing the String Cheese Incident and going to festivals like Hulaween a lot, but I still didn’t quite love or understand bluegrass yet. I come from a really progressive and heavy world of jazz fusion, metal, and radio rock, but once I started hearing Cheese do more bluegrass-leaning songs I started falling in love and learning how to do them myself.
Then in 2019 – still prior to picking up a mandolin – I ingested DMT for the first time. When I did, I remember a friend who’d been telling me for years that even though I didn’t know it, that I was a mandolin player. [He] put a 1916 Gibson A[-style mandolin] into my hands and told me to shred. I don’t know how to explain it besides it being like “Dr. Strange,” but with numbers. It was that moment I became a mandolin player.
From there I formed a Celtic band and began plugging away with that, all the while realizing I had to get this bluegrass thing figured out. Bluegrass is one of the most prominent genres in the counterculture-ish scene that I loved being a part of, from String Cheese people to Deadheads and Spreadnecks and beyond. One day I sat myself down and said bluegrass is gonna have to be it – you are married to bluegrass now. Then I started going online and listening to pickers like Ricky Skaggs, Sierra Hull, Jarrod Walker, and David “Dawg” Grisman, slowing down YouTube videos to learn their breaks. That was about it. Once I learned what was going on in bluegrass musically, then it was obvious that these guys and gals are monsters. To be able to create such a back pocket with no drums on that mash grass stuff – there’s nothing like it.
You’re right, there is nothing like it! With that in mind, is that what your song “What A Life” is about – taking chances and being grateful to make a living making music?
CB: The melody and chorus for that song came together really quickly one day in my buddy’s living room. At that time in my life, the songs I was writing didn’t hold a lot of meaning or significance, so I wanted this one to be profound. The last verse really says it all: “What a life/ Is what I thought before I got swallowed by the tide/ Something felt amazing/ But I knew it wasn’t on the other side.”
I had a near-death experience when I was 19 and that is where I take a lot of the song’s inspiration from – although in the beginning I try to get cute talking about grandpas and other relatives and how their actions and memories have impacted the person you are in this very moment. Despite how insignificant those stories may seem to you right now, the fact that they were passed down and made it to you means they must’ve been pretty big moments in their and your family’s history.
So even though something like hopping into a stranger’s car and hauling ass to Telluride may not seem significant to anything other than the present moment, it’s so much more than that. We’re all connected in the climb and the work we put in together to build the memories we cherish. If none of us were here, what would be the point?
DF: …There’d be no life at all. That’s my favorite line in the entire song: “If none of us were here there’d be no life at all.” [Laughs]
A big part of the musical life and memories in your Colorado stomping grounds are its vibrant jamgrass community, a talented and tight-knit group that reminds me a lot of the Kentucky scene I’ve been fortunate to grow up in. What are your thoughts on the scene there and where Magoo fits into it all?
EH: We’re pretty lucky to call Colorado our home base. It’s certainly a breeding ground for a lot of great bands and even better music fans. People that love our type of music are everywhere in Colorado, no matter what town you’re in. From Denver to Boulder and up in the mountain towns, people want to hear that jam music, bluegrass, or a mix of both. It keeps us constantly busy and buzzing with new ideas to explore.
DF: We also have so many friends who are a part of great bands like Clay Street Unit, Tonewood String Band, and The Fretliners. I have more friends in my life now than ever before because of the community that we’re building. It’s also funny too – like one day I was driving home and saw [the Infamous Stringdusters’] Andy Hall in my neighborhood and am in awe, only to find out he lives half a mile down the road. My number one Dobro inspiration is Andy Hall, so having him so close by is a testament to just how unbelievable the music scene is in Colorado right now.
CB: There’s just something about being above 8,500 feet [elevation] that pushes people to their limits, whether it’s climbing a mountain or writing a song. The special thing about Colorado is the people here are making music for their friends. They’re making music for their little community to get together and have a good time. Someone like Vince Herman isn’t out there writing a song to have a number one hit. He’s writing a song so his family and his homies can get in front of the stage and throw down and feel comfortable and have the time of their lives, which is exactly what we’re getting to do now.
All: What a life!
What has bringing this album to life taught you about yourselves?
EH: Doing this album DIY style, we had to learn to trust ourselves and say, “Hey, this is really good.” You can sit here and nitpick each part and each take fucking forever, but at the end of the day what we have is really good, good enough to put out for people.
DT: For me, it’s in line with the phrase “what a life,” to take the chance and take the ride, call Sam Bush, whatever. I hope it inspires others the way it inspired me. When I met these guys, I lived three and a half hours away on a good day, but I saw what was going on and wanted to be a part of it. That meant getting in my car and driving to Denver multiple times a week to practice and learn the material. People thought I was crazy, but if you want something, you’ve got to go for it and give it your all. When you do that, amazing things can happen.
This whole experience has been a case in point of that, especially with the Sam Bush thing and making that call. We didn’t sit there and second guess ourselves about it and look at what happened. It’s always worth your time to give it a shot. You never know where the ride will take you. For me, that’s what this is all about.
Vince Gill doesn’t give interviews; he gives conversations – lengthy, engaging conversations filled with the same reflection and storytelling that make his songwriting so relatable and successful. Factor in his enviable mastery of guitar and other instruments and the result is a well-rounded artist who has won 18 CMA awards, 22 GRAMMY awards, and eight Academy of Country Music Awards.
In 2025, he was presented with the CMA Willie Nelson Lifetime Achievement Award, and this year, on May 6, he will receive the Ken Burns American Heritage Prize. He’s been a member of the Grand Ole Opry since 1991 and in 2005 was entered into the Nashville Songwriters Hall of Fame. Two years later, he was inducted into the Country Music Hall of Fame.
Over the course of 21 albums his sales exceed thirty million with 45 chart singles. Coming up is a summer tour, which will wrap with a six-night residency at the Ryman Auditorium, while continuing his ongoing schedule with the Eagles. All of this is only a cursory glance at his many accolades.
Gill’s accomplishments, and the experiences that accompany them, are at the core of his latest project, 50 Years From Home, a yearlong series of monthly EPs marking the fiftieth anniversary of his leaving home to pursue a music career. Each collection features themed new songs and revisited classics, with photos of select guitars on the covers. The EPs are introduced via detailed conversations with friend and colleague Charlie Worsham – watch all episodes on Gill’s YouTube channel.
Down At The Borderline, released February 13, is the fourth and latest EP in the series, while the next installment, Lonely’s What I Do, already arrives this Friday, March 13. A few weeks prior to the release of Down At The Borderline, Gill made himself available for more interviews and conversations, including a talk with Good Country.
At this point, it’s difficult to imagine anything Vince Gill hasn’t done. In fact, there are two key things, neither of which he cares to pursue:
“I’ve never sent a text,” he says, “because I prefer talking to people. What you find out [with texts] is how many people really don’t want to talk to you!” And, “I’ve never posted anything on the internet,” although he does have a scrolling habit, which he gladly admitted to during this discussion.
As you move through endless interviews around these EPs, is there something you’ve always wanted to talk about but have never been asked? Now’s your chance to tell the world!
Vince Gill: I wouldn’t have a clue! I never was much of a planner. I think it’s a blessing that I just live in the moment. I don’t look ahead, I don’t look back much, and there’s not a lot of regrets in my life. I figure the mistakes I made were valuable to learn something. I never planned any of this. I didn’t sit down and have a diary that I’d go, “When I’m this age, I want to have done this and this.” I just answered the phone.
You should probably give classes on that, because this is an industry of nonstop worry: What’s going to happen? Will this work? Will this not work? To move from project to project, stage to stage of your career with that mindset is impressive.
I started out with absolutely not one dollar, so money has never been the reason for any of it. I bought a guitar when I was 18 years old and I moved away from home. It was an old pre-war Martin that was perfect for bluegrass. I spent every dime I had on it and I didn’t worry. I said, “My rent’s $15 a month, I’ll make a couple hundred bucks a week when we work, so I’ll be fine.”
Amazing.
Speaking of going from stage to stage of your career, the EPs are each a chapter told with collections of songs. Tell us more.
The majority of it is fairly new. From the time I started in 1975, there was no reason to have a publishing deal for a long time. Even after I had a record deal, I didn’t see the need because I had a place for my songs to land on my own records. I never partnered up with a publisher, to give away half the money, to give a monthly draw to help pay my rent or whatever. I was able to always pay the rent somehow – my house note, whatever it was – with playing and singing.
Three or four years ago, Jody Williams, who’s a lifelong publisher in Nashville and a friend of mine for 40-something years now, called me and said, “You’ve never had a publisher. Would you consider letting me manage your songwriting for a while? I think you still have a lot to say as a songwriter.” I said, “Yeah, I’ll try that out.”
He would call great songwriters and say, “Would you like to write a song with Vince?” I was never a very good self-promoter, so I would never do that on my own. I just let it unfold with people I would meet. So it started me down this path of writing a lot of music, and over the last three or four years I’ve written twice as many songs as I’ve recorded on this new 50 Years From Home project. I think I’m writing the best songs I’ve ever written. With time you should get better, and I think I have.
I don’t want to check out someday and have all these songs lost in a desk drawer somewhere, so I’ve started recording them all. It’s a different world now, a different way. If you want to release 75 songs, you can do it. You don’t have to have one album with 10 songs on it anymore. So I started thinking about what it would be. My first conception was to release two songs a week, like an A-side and B-side of a 45. “It’s Monday, it’s time for a couple new Vince songs.” The record company came up with the idea of, “Why don’t you do a series of EPs and have six or seven songs on each one?” I said, “That sounds cool. We’ll put one out a month.”
That’s where the whole thing started. I was trying to find a way to put all this out. I realize at this point in my life, I’m almost 69, I don’t have as much time left to be creative as I’ve had to this point, obviously. How much more it matters now is palpable. It really means something to me to be creative, and if I see myself improving, I want to nurture and foster that and continue, because it’s so dear to me, being musical, being creative, coming up with an idea, coming up with a story that could potentially move somebody, touch somebody. It’s unbelievable to be able to have that gift, to be able to do that. So I’m trying to take full advantage of it.
But 68 or 69 today is not the 68 or 69 of our parents’ years. When you’re a kid, your parents turn 50 and it seems ancient.
That’s true. My mom’s a hundred years old.
See? You have many more years to go, especially if you’re still 17 in your head, which happens in this business.
Yeah, and I am. I don’t feel any different than when I pulled out of the driveway and took off. I still have the same love and I’m so drawn to playing music. It’s such a huge part of me. I tell everybody, “My mom’s a hundred and I hope I’m really her son, so I have those genes! For all I know, she might have rented me out of a yard in southern Oklahoma somewhere!” But my dad checked out early. He died at 65 – and I was afraid of being 65. There’s so many instances of people passing at the same age as their parents and whatnot.
I’ve heard from others that it’s a strange feeling when you reach the age when a parent passed.
Absolutely. But my dad drank a lot, he smoked two packs a day, and he didn’t take very good care of himself. I don’t think I have too many of those qualities. I don’t smoke and I don’t drink. I eat bad, but that’s about it.
You’ve stated many times that your goal was always to be a recording musician. With reality shows and social media, do young players have that same goal, or is a lot of it about chasing clicks and stardom? Are you concerned about the future of musicianship?
No, because there are plenty of young kids out there that can play their brains out. There’s so many of them that you don’t worry about it. I tell people all the time, “If American Idol was on in 1948, Little Jimmy Dickens would’ve been on it.” I don’t really care for those shows – and not in a bad way, because a lot of talented people go on them – but sadly, you don’t see that really bear out with a lot of artists coming from those shows that have longevity. They have that moment, but we’re so ready to slide our thumb and move on to the next scrolling thing. It’s the same way with those shows: “The season’s over. Okay, who are the new ones?” And I never like seeing creativity be a contest.
But I don’t worry too much. You see someone like Sierra Hull, who can play better than anybody in the whole world, and Michael Cleveland, and so many that come along that can completely annihilate their instruments. It’s beautiful to watch. I don’t think that’ll ever go away.
Does AI-created “music” concern you?
Of course, but when I’m asked about it, I say, “The people who create it, deep down, they know they haven’t done anything. They know they’ve done nothing.”
As a recording and performing guitarist, singer, and songwriter over a lot of years, how has your approach changed? Your technique, your picking style, your ear, your tone?
It’s a combination of all of those things. I’ve spent the latter years realizing what I don’t need, what I don’t need to do, what I don’t need to play, what I don’t need to sing, what I don’t need to say in the lyrics. To me, the beauty of it is your willingness to try to say the most with the least.
I like my singing better now than I did when I had hits. I much prefer the way I sing and play my songs today. That’s motivation enough, that I feel like I’m better now than I ever was. My ears have never lied to me, and with that, if I feel like I’m making progress, that’s all the reason in the world to keep doing it. If I start wheezing like an old woman, I probably won’t wanna go out there and sing. But, thank God, that hasn’t happened yet,
With music, the more you do it, the more you learn. The point of it is not to impress, but to move people. If you can move people with what you play and sing and write, that’s the real gift. That’s when you really get something that matters out of it, rather than a big “Woo, that was incredible! That was impressive.” That’s fleeting in a way. I like the long haul.
I could have very easily stopped working on other people’s records and being a sideman and a harmony singer and guitar player and what have you. But I love doing that so much, because I always thought it was a harder job to complement somebody and what they’re doing, more so than doing what you want and having everybody follow you. It took more talent to do that – better ears, bigger ears, that kind of stuff. So I continue to do that. I’ve worked on over a thousand artists’ records in the last 50 years. The diversity of that, the willingness to go into any kind of world of music and try, and not just be shortsighted and only do this and only do that – I love all of it. I’ll find something good in any of it. If I can play a part in making something better that’s being done, then that’s a good feeling.
Can you draw a through line from your bluegrass roots to what you’ve done and what you do now?
“When I Call Your Name” wouldn’t have sounded like it did had I not played bluegrass. That high lonesome sound was totally taken out of my love and life of bluegrass. A song on one of my new records [Secondhand Smoke, EP 2] is called “Hill People,” with [harmony vocalist] John Meador – great singer, great player, it just blows my mind how good he is. That sounds the way it does, it was written the way it was, because of my history of bluegrass.
I was never one of those guys that [would say], “I can only play bluegrass and it has to be traditional.” I loved New Grass Revival. They were different than Bill Monroe and I loved it all. If you take whatever’s great about something and cast the rest aside, then you’ve done your job. I’m not critical of young people that don’t do it the way I did it, or the way my heroes did it. That doesn’t serve anybody any good, to be critical of stuff. I remember hearing Billy Strings talk about how he would go to jam sessions and felt unwelcomed, and that killed me. I felt so bad for him.
I experienced that once when I was 17. We were playing some bluegrass festival, a hardcore traditional-minded festival. We were up there playing “Rocky Road Blues,” which is a Bill Monroe song, but we were doing it real bluesy. The promoters kicked us out of the festival and said, “You can’t be playing that kind of music!”
As they were kicking us out, Jim & Jesse were playing Chuck Berry’s “Johnny B. Goode.” I said, “Now wait a minute. We’re playing a Bill Monroe song and we’re going to get kicked out, and they’re playing ‘Johnny B. Goode’ by Chuck Berry? What’s cool about that?” They go, “Their suits match. Get outta here!”
I’ve known Sam Bush for 50-something years. The story he tells about Monroe is that he said, “What is it you call that music you play?” Sam said, “We call it New Grass.” He goes, “Yeah, I hate that.” That kills me, but it didn’t impact Sam one bit. But that hardline thing – I don’t go for it.
You’ve said that the role of the artist is to speak for others. Are there songs that speak for you, or to you, in those moments?
I like the things that are the most honest, that are not trying to be something they’re not. I’m not a fan of singers that alter the sound of their voice to make it do something it doesn’t naturally do. I heard Merle Haggard say, “Man, just tell the truth.” That’s where I’m finding the biggest inspiration in songs is being truthful. I think the truth has always been the greatest thing you can lean on.
People talk about country music, and if you could point somebody to what you think country music is, I’d say Merle Haggard’s “Mama Tried.” How it starts– “I turned 21 in prison doing life without parole.” That’s pretty dark. That’s pretty sad. And then, “No one could steer me right, but Mama tried.” There’s your hope.
One thing they’ve never taken away from me is hope. Even though they quit playing my records on radio stations and I don’t have hits anymore, I’m always hopeful that something will slide through and move people. I had hope when I made my first record at 16 or 17 years old, and lo and behold, some radio station played it and I heard it in my pickup truck. That instilled a hope in me that’s never faded. They can pass on songs, they can not play them, they can do all that, but they have never dinged my hope in my heart for what it is that I want to try to do.
Where were you in your truck when you heard yourself on the radio for the first time?
I-40, Oklahoma City. I was driving and all of a sudden they started playing “July You’re a Woman.” It’s a John Stewart song and we’d done a bluegrass version of it. I was singing lead. I think some other bluegrassers had done that same song. I’m driving and all of a sudden they started playing it on the radio station and I get on the CB radio and start screaming, “You’re not going to believe it! They’re playing our record on the radio!” Truckers were coming back saying, “Hey, you sound good, kid! Hang in there.” Wow.
The first record I ever made, I heard on the radio. It put that dose of hope in me that has never faded.
Editor’s Note: Read part two of our Good Country conversation with Vince Gill here.
Want more Good Country? Sign up to receive our monthly email newsletter – and much more music! – direct to your inbox.
Artist:Bryan Sutton with Billy Strings Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee Song: “The Devil Went Down to Deep Gap” Album:From Roots to Branches Release Date: January 9, 2026 (single/video) Label: Mountain Home Music Company
In Their Words: How do you see Doc’s playing influencing both yours and Billy’s?
“I think beyond the specific influence of Doc’s guitar playing that informs most every note Billy or I may play, I know that we both are students of Doc’s complete artistry. To say Doc is just the most influential flatpicker ever is limiting. He brought so much to the table in his honest and emotional singing, his song choices and writing, banjo and harmonica playing, and Travis-style fingerpicking. He was not comfortable being labeled or limited within a specific genre. His onstage persona was true to him. Without being a ‘showman,’ he was informational when the song needed it and willing to share whatever emotion he might be experiencing. It’s also important to note that Doc and Merle’s duo playing has been a huge part of the overall focus for things Billy and I have done together. I know for both Billy and I, Doc provides a lifetime of inspiration, influence, and learning.”
How do you pay tribute to that in this song and video?
“First and foremost, this is kind of a silly or fun thing, along with being a somewhat serious tribute to Doc Watson. I wanted to use the song to have fun with the guitar shredding and good versus evil battle, but also imagine an origin story of how Arthel Watson could have become the ‘Doc’ we all have loved. Maybe it’s a gospel song in the way that Doc, even and especially in his blindness, can ‘see’ through the Devil’s lies. Ultimately, Doc carries his triumphant message to the world, and influences us all with wonderful and heartfelt music.”
It sounds like you had this concept before talking with Billy about it. How did the concept and song come to be, from start to finish?
“It was listening to Charlie Daniels’ original ‘The Devil Went Down to Georgia’ with my youngest daughter, Lily. She has very eclectic and broad musical tastes. I’ve loved sharing music with her and checking out what she has discovered. We found some other covers of the original and one that stuck with me was Jerry Reed’s interpretation, where he makes Johnny a guitarist instead of a fiddler. I have been working on a duets record for some time, collecting recordings here and there with my pals, and knew I wanted to do something different with Billy, as he and I have a whole record of duet playing.
“Billy and I also share a love for heavy metal. I was trying to think of a way he and I could do something connected to this duets project that would allow us to play acoustic and electric. It all kind of came together when I realized this song would allow for that. The Doc origin story came about thinking how to make this not just a cover, but more personal and fun. It’s also another subtle tribute to Doc, who would oftentimes change or add lyrics to a song in order to make it fit for him. I fashioned the story, made a little demo, and sent it to Billy. He was into it and we were off.
“I feel fortunate that Del was into playing the Devil. I also am so happy to have T. Michael Coleman and Sam Bush on the track, who played many years on the road and studio with Doc. My pal Jerry Roe, who is Jerry Reed’s grandson, plays the drums, connecting to the Reed version that inspired me. Once I had the concept and demo for the song, I knew it had to be an animated video and discovered Pat Bradley of Springshoe Animation. It was wonderful working with him to take what had been in my head and be able to visualize it. Ultimately, all this came about a little piece at a time, and I’m so happy to share it with the world.” – Bryan Sutton
Track Credits: Bryan Sutton – Acoustic guitar, electric guitar, vocal Billy Strings – Acoustic guitar, electric guitar, vocal Del McCoury – Vocal T. Michael Coleman – Electric bass, harmony vocal Sam Bush – Mandolin Jerry Roe – Drums
Video Credits: Animation by Pat Bradley, Springshoe Animation.
Artist:The Unfaithful Servants Hometown: Victoria, British Columbia, Canada Latest Album:Fallen Angel (released October 17, 2025) Personal Nicknames (or rejected band names): Quince/Quincy; Cobby; Dyl/Dilly; Cuss
(Editor’s Note: Answers supplied by mandolinist Jesse Cobb.)
Which artist has influenced you the most – and how?
Sam Bush, both solo and with New Grass Revival, Strength in Numbers, and many others. When I first started playing mandolin, I learned old-time fiddle tunes from the likes of Gus Ingo, Blind Kenny Hall, Bill Monroe, Bobby Osborne, and others all from LPs, by ear. I also had a few books around – Jack Tottle’s mandolin book, fakebooks, and some others. I recall going to the library in Superior, Wisconsin, and checking out albums/tapes of many artists.
Among the picks one time was New Grass Revival’s On The Boulevard. I was likely 10-12 years old and pretty new to playing at the time. I remember putting on the record and just being blown away by the overall intensity, sound, clarity, timing – everything seemed so leveled-up compared to the bluegrass and old-time music I’d been listening to. Sam particularly caught my ear as a mandolin player. The tone, attack, intensity, rhythm, changed my whole view of a mandolin’s role in a band. I still get this feeling every time I hear Sam’s music or get the opportunity to play with him! A real game changer for me.
What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?
My first time on the main stage at Telluride Bluegrass. I had been listening to recordings/watching videos of that stage with the house band, New Grass Revival, and others for literally my whole childhood! When I first played there with The Stringdusters, the feeling of looking over the massive crowd and up to the mountains in the distance was very special. It felt like a dream being there at that time and was a very emotional affirmation that all the time, sacrifice and hard work was worth it.
Genre is dead (long live genre!), but how would you describe the genres and styles your music inhabits?
The Unfaithful Servants draw from such a deep well of influences: old-time fiddle tunes to Vulfpeck; Doc Watson and Townes [Van Zandt] to Rush; Edgar Meyer to Jaco Pistorius; The Band to Polyphia; Bach to the Flecktones! Given our varied influences and our span of four decades in ages, we try to put this all together to inform our sound.
In my mind, the closest genre that encapsulates this is Americana. I think that we have more in common with artists like Sierra Ferrell and the Avett Brothers than with traditional bluegrass bands, although that influence/drive is incorporated as well. With the intensity of the Stanley Brothers and the technical aspirations of Punch Brothers, the groove of classic funk and lyrical depth of Neil Young, we try to create our own sound encompassing them all!
What is a genre, album, artist, musician, or song that you adore that would surprise people?
I really like ’80s rock music – think Steve Vai, Damn Yankees, Warrant, Def Leppard. I grew up listening to old-time music almost exclusively and working very hard to live up to the feel and sounds I was hearing in that. I recall being at a soundcheck at a theatre in northern Minnesota one time, probably around 13-14 years old. Walking into the venue for soundcheck, the crew was ringing out the room with the most exciting thing I’d ever heard. The song was “Peace of Mind” by Boston and I was blown away, very similar to the way Sam Bush hit me! I recall asking the crew, “What is this?” This started a long infatuation with ’80s hair bands, electric guitar shredding, and the crazy vocalists in the genre. I know a surprising amount of lyrics to ’80s hair bands and love to karaoke them when I can, for better or worse!
Does pineapple belong on pizza?
While I can confidently answer no for me, it’s kind of like asking, “What is bluegrass?” except without a point. I don’t like the flavor of pizza sauce and pineapple together, personally, but that doesn’t make it wrong for everyone! Much like trying to define genres, it’s completely up to personal taste.
This month, BGS is celebrating 100 years of the Grand Ole Opry! It would be hard to overstate the influence of the Opry on American roots music – hell, on music in general – over the past century.
From Earl Scruggs joining Bill Monroe to create the sound of bluegrass; to DeFord Bailey becoming the first Black Opry star and the first Black musician to break into the commercial music scene in Nashville; to the legendary meeting of Johnny Cash and June Carter; the Opry has been a catalyst for so many iconic moments. Below, we kick off our “Artist of the Month” celebration with our Opry 100 Essentials Playlist, which includes some of our favorite live recordings from the Opry, songs famously debuted on that legendary stage, and some of our favorite roots songs written about the Opry and its lore, too.
Did you know that Dolly Parton made her first Grand Ole Opry appearance in 1959 at the age of 13 and received three encores? To get a sense of how young Dolly might have sounded on that stage, we’ve included one of her very first singles, “Girl Left Alone,” (the B-side of the now well-known “Puppy Love”), recorded when she was just 11 years old and released the same year as her Opry debut.
Elvis famously made his Opry debut in 1954 at the age of 19, singing “Blue Moon of Kentucky” in a style that was so poorly received a manager told him to “go back to driving a truck,” or something of that nature. You can hear his rockabilly version on our playlist.
In 1969, Linda Martell was the first solo Black woman to perform on the Opry, singing “Color Him Father” for her debut. Although she faced rampant racism throughout her career, her first performance on the Opry was met with two standing ovations and she went on to perform there 12 times over the years.
The Opry has also been fodder for songwriting, inspiring many tracks over the years. Early Opry star David “Stringbean” Akeman met Bill Monroe while playing semi-professional baseball and went on to play clawhammer-style banjo in his band from 1943 to 1945. After parting ways with Monroe’s band, Stringbean became an Opry star in his own right and penned the song “Opry Time in Tennessee.”
Stringbean and his wife were tragically murdered in 1973 by thieves who had heard of him storing cash in his home. In 2009, Sam Bush released his song, “The Ballad of Stringbean and Estelle,” co-written with Guy Clark and Verlon Thompson. “The thieves laid in wait for hours/ But things didn’t go their way/ But he wouldn’t let go of his Opry pay,” sings Bush on his album, Circles Around Me.
Shortly before the Opry was moved from downtown Nashville’s Ryman Auditorium to the newly built Opry House in 1974, John Hartford released “Tear Down the Grand Ole Opry,” a scathing commentary on the commercialization of country music. “Right across from the wax museum/ They used to line up around the block/ From east Tennessee and back down home again … Broad Street will never be the same,” Hartford sings nostalgically on his legendary Aereo-Plain album.
While the Opry is known as a country music gold standard, over its 100 years as a live-broadcast radio show it has held clout across the genres and in popular culture – not just in country. This year, as part of the celebration of its 100th anniversary, the Opry has been featuring 100 Opry debuts and first-time performances. These special appearances have showcased the broad impact of the Opry, hosting the likes of pop star Sabrina Carpenter who said, “My mom raised me on the artists who have stood up here.”
Whether in country, bluegrass, Americana, or beyond, the Grand Ole Opry continues to be a musical powerhouse, 100 years after its barn dance birth. While we look ahead to the next century of Opry magic, we’re beyond excited to join the Grand Ole Opry family in celebrating Opry 100 for the entire month of November. Enjoy our Opry 100 Essentials Playlist below and relive the Opry 100: A Live Celebration television special on NBC from earlier this year here, too. You can read our primary feature on Opry 100 right here. Plus, stay tuned all month as we have brand new and archive articles, interviews, and features we’ll be sharing here and on socials all spotlighting the incredibly legacy and community of our beloved Grand Ole Opry as we countdown to November 28, 2025 – the Opry’s official 100th birthday!
Lead Image: Opening of the Grand Ole Opry House in 1974, courtesy of Ryman Hospitality Properties.
They always say, “Don’t meet your heroes,” but in the bluegrass world, I’ve mostly found that not to be true. Take Steve Martin & Alison Brown, for instance – two of the most recognizable and veritable banjo players alive today. Earlier this year, I was fortunate enough to join them (along with Rhiannon Giddens and a formidable lineup of bluegrass, folk, and old-time musicians) onstage at the legendary Hollywood Bowl. It was a night I’ll never forget.
And earlier this month, I had the pleasure of rejoining Steve and Alison in conversation about their new collaborative project, Safe, Sensible and Sane, (out now via Compass Records). It’s a beautiful album filled with original songs, guest appearances from musical friends, and a whole lot of banjos.
Hope you enjoy our conversation!
Ed Helms: First of all, let me just say huge congratulations. An album like this is such a big undertaking and this is phenomenal. I’ve been listening to it basically on a loop for the last couple of days. And my family, my kids are loving it.
Steve Martin: Thanks. Thank you. It’s not easy to rope the family in.
I know! My four- and seven-year-old are extremely critical of anything banjo-related. You won them over.
SM: Awesome.
Right off the bat, what jumps out at me about this album is the title – which immediately strikes me as a kind of direct counterbalance or maybe even a rebuke of these unsafe, nonsensical, and totally insane times that we’re living in. I do think that the album title sets such a warm, funny, and welcoming tone that the music then totally delivers on. Am I getting close?
SM: You’re so far. [All laugh]
Tell me what it is. Walk me through.
SM: I’m almost embarrassed to tell you. Alison, should we confess?
Alison Brown: You told us never to tell, but it’s up to you. [Laughter]
SM: When Alison and I were writing songs together, I had come across a book published in the 1930s on how to improve your letter writing. 80 years old, 90 years old, and it had a list of phrases you can use in your letter writing or business letter writing to brighten up your letters. It said things that are formal phrases, like “thank you for the frank statement of your affairs.” And it went on, things like that.
One of them was “safe, sensible and sane.” I just listed these suggestions and I wrote Alison and said, “I think there’s song lyrics in here somewhere.” Alison organized it, so they kind of rhyme, then Alison wrote this tune for it, and Jason Mraz made sense of it. Because the lyrics are actually nonsense, we have noted that the more we listen to it they actually start to make sense in some way.
That is wild. That is such a weirdly specific rabbit hole of where that came from.
Is the banjo itself something that feels safe, sensible, and sane to each of you in some way? Is it a place of home?
AB: For sure. I think so, certainly speaking for myself. It’s definitely been an anchor for me in my life and I noticed, Steve, watching your documentary, how many scenes the banjo was in the background and realizing that it’s been trailing you your whole life, too.
SM: Yeah. I find you’re right, in the sense that it’s not a “dangerous” instrument like the guitar, sure. Which can be naughty. The banjo is safe, sensible, and sane – but the way Alison plays and the way these great banjo [players] turn it into a kind of extraordinary jazz instrument. It’s too bad that most people probably have an idea of what the banjo sounds like and they’re way off.
I think what you’re saying is that the banjo can be edgy.
AB: it can be edgy, but it can be mainstream, palatable at the same time.
SM: Edgy in the sense of avant-garde, yes. There are some. Didn’t you write a 12-tone banjo song, Alison?
AB: I did. I had a chance to produce and play on a track called “Old Atonal Music” and I actually wrote a 12-tone row banjo solo, which–
Oh my gosh.
AB: Which was then analyzed by the classical community. And fortunately it really was a 12-tone row, so that’s about as edgy as you get.
That’s getting out there.
AB: Boy, are we.
This just got so nerdy so fast.
AB: It sure did. I knew that was gonna happen.
The last time I saw you guys, we had the incredible privilege of joining Rhiannon Giddens at her show at the Hollywood Bowl, and I remember showing up to rehearsal for that and you guys were working on what I thought was just “Cluck Old Hen.” I’m watching you and listening and thinking, “What are these lyrics? What is this? This is so funny.”
Of course, now I know that’s “New Cluck Old Hen,” which is on the album. But what I observed that day in the rehearsal stages was just the rapport that you guys share, which seems so easy and effortless, light, fun, and playful – and well earned. It makes me very curious about the origin of your friendship and was it music immediately? Where did you first connect and what was it you saw in each other?
SM: Go, Alison.
AB: Okay, we were on a Caribbean island at the same time by chance, really just by luck. It was a place that we both vacation regularly with our families and I knew we were gonna be down there at the same time that Steve was gonna be down there. We were gonna overlap for a couple of days and Steve suggested we get together for lunch. Of course, banjos had to be involved, so we had a really wonderful lunch and then sat and spent the afternoon playing banjo together, just sonically clicked really easily.
Because Steve and I both really love finding beautiful melodies in the instrument, we’re both in the same pursuit when we’re playing and composing music. Writing this music, it’s been surprising to me how easy it’s been. It is almost like the tunes were just waiting to be written and we just had to pull them outta the sky.
How long ago was that first connection?
AB: I would say maybe about 10 years ago.
Then was it right away, “Let’s start collaborating!” Or did you guys circle back to each other?
AB: It took me a little while to get up the nerve to see if Steve actually would co-write some music together. [Laughs] I got a chance to do a few shows with Steve and Marty [Short] when the Steep Canyon rangers weren’t able to make shows, so we got a chance to jam some more backstage and play some more clawhammer banjo and three-finger banjo, which is my favorite combination. Like chocolate and peanut butter. Clawhammer and three-finger.
I totally agree. It’s so beautiful. And there are a lot of great players that do both, but usually I think most people assume that a song is in an old-time style or in a sort of three-finger style. So to hear [you] two just beautifully mixed together, you guys are really sharing a language that transcends the style of playing. You’re playing very differently, but there is a fluidness.
I think the song “Evening Star,” which might be my favorite on the album, is such a great example of that, starting out with your three-finger, beautiful lilting rolls and melodic runs. Then Steve comes in picking up the same tune in a [clawhammer] style that feels like a really even, woven-in feel. It doesn’t change the feeling of the song in any way. I think that’s a testament to the connection that you guys share musically.
SM: Our roots and love of the banjo are very similar in the sense of Appalachian sound, the Celtic sound, the modal mountain sound. That’s what gets me. We both like to find those melodies that reside within those tunings and history.
And Alison, as I recall, you sent me this beautiful part and I contributed another part and then Alison found– You can tell the story. You found yourself in Dublin?
AB: Yeah, actually that one, I knew that we were gonna be in Glasgow. I dunno if you have ever become acquainted with the music of John McSherry, Mike McGoldrick, and John Doyle, they have a fabulous trio. They’re completely badass Irish players, Celtic players and I knew that it would sound great to play this tune with them. John Doyle in particular, when he plays rhythm guitar, it’s like riding a big wave. They’re also heroes.
SM: They’re heroes of mine, too.
AB: It’s funny, though, because the genesis of that tune was really Steve telling me about a song he wrote called “Canadian Girl” where he was playing clawhammer in 3/4 time. I’d never even thought about the clawhammer playing in 3/4. But it’s so beautiful. Then I tried to write a melody that could work for both.
I think it’s a real testament to Steve’s banjo playing, too – like you were saying, a lot of banjo players will choose a lane. They’re either three-finger or they’re clawhammer. But Steve’s really unique that he plays both. I think that’s part of the reason why our two banjos go so well together, ’cause he completely understands the three-finger thing. But when he’s playing clawhammer, he brings some of that sensibility to it.
SM: You can also play the modality that you find in clawhammer on three-finger. I remember a song I found on a record recorded by Dick Weissman called “Trail Ridge Road” and it was played with picks, but it had this unique– I just call it modality. I’m sorry to keep using that word, but it had this minor sound that just kept rolling. I always loved it. I think that sound stuck with me forever. I even wrote him once to tell him that.
I think your song, “The Crow,” falls in that category, right?
SM: It is in double C. [It has] that drone sound, ’cause you have two strings tuned to the same note. Yeah, that does have a bit of that in there.
That was one of my favorite songs to learn. I found a transcription in a Banjo Newsletter and I was able to work it up and I love it. Another one of my all-time favorite tunes.
SM: Alison told me that banjo players like to play my songs because they’re easy. [All laugh]
How do you guys collaborate? Walk me through that process. Are you sending each other tracks and just saying, “Hey, here’s an idea.” A little melody or a catch or a hook, and then you’re building on it together? Or do you try to make sure you’re in the same space, just steeping the tea together?
SM: All of the above. Garry [West] and Alison flew out to California, where we spent like three, four days there just writing and recording. We got ideas, initial ideas for songs there. Then we started communicating by text and sending song ideas. It’s the new way to write things. It’s everything.
But we did meet and get that sound of two people together. You’re listening to the other player.
AB: That’s the thing, when I get a chance to sit around with Steve and just play, it always gives me more ideas for where we can take the banjo. Or gives me a new way of thinking about what he’s doing that maybe you could expand on. That’s really exciting. But technology’s totally been our friend, so we’ve done a lot of this by just swapping ideas back and forth and it’s amazing how efficiently you can do that.
How frustrating is it that Zoom, the latency of these video conferences, you can’t quite jam.
SM: You cannot play over the internet! You can’t play, you gotta bounce it back and forth.
That’s [why] I flew down to Nashville to record with Vince Gill, so it’d all be in the same room.
You mention flying down to Nashville to work with Vince and others. This album is so much more than just a double banjo album. It’s this grand collaboration. So many special guests, close friends of yours like Tim O’Brien, Aoife O’Donovan, Sarah Jarosz, Vince Gill, Jason Mraz, Jackson Browne, Jeff Hanna, the Indigo Girls – I’m from Georgia, so that’s a huge one for me. I love, love, love the Indigo Girls.
You two obviously have such a deep well of relationships and friendships throughout music. How did you decide who to rope in on these particular songs? What was that decision-making process like?
SM: I’ve said this before, I’m a talk singer. I sing like Robert Preston, The Music Man. I know Alison sings harmony, but she’s never presented herself as a lead singer, as I know. So we’re forced to find someone to sing these songs. A good example is the song “Michael,” which was written without anybody in mind. The lyrics to that are imperfect in the best sense, in a good sense. Sometimes they don’t quite scan out. Sometimes the rhyme is soft.
Alison was at an event with Aoife O’Donovan and said, “Hey, would you mind singing?” And [Aoife] just understood the song so perfectly. You just go, “Oh, that’s it!” There’s no need to look anywhere. She just really knew how to sing it. You’re looking for people who know how to sing these songs. Like Jason Mraz instantly understood “Safe, Sensible and Sane.” He knew that it was in some way humorous, that none of us could figure out why.
Both of those songs have a little international flair to them. “Michael” almost has a samba or Brazilian feel? And then “Statement Of Your Affairs” with Jason Mraz, is it like reggae?
SM: Is it reggae?
There’s something Caribbean there.
AB: It’s definitely Caribbean, yeah.
Really everything sprang from the banjo. The melody for “Michael,” I just wrote that chorus melody as a banjo tune and really could not fathom how you could do anything other than play a newgrass banjo tune with that melody. It was amazing that Steve could set words to it and then he developed this whole story. It was really fabulous.
SM: What I liked is Alison sent me the tune, I listened to it, and it inspired me to a situation, an atmosphere. And she said, “We can change those lines, some of those melodic lines, and shorten ’em.” I say no. That’s what you want, that unexpected line that extends too long or it forces the words to do something tricky. I really like that challenge.
I love your closing number, “Let’s Get Out of Here” [with] Sam Bush, who counts that one in. I’ve heard it said often that Sam Bush is the best drummer in bluegrass. He sets such a great, driving tempo and rhythm.
SM: I couldn’t play without the mandolin! I’d be all over the place, rhythmically.
AB: No, that’s true. There is nothing like Sam’s chop. When Stuart Duncan and I were teenagers, we were presidents of the “Sam Bush Chop Fan Club.” A super nerdy thing.
This is one for both of you. You’re both multifaceted, creative people. You move so effortlessly between different creative disciplines, collaborative contexts, different bands, different musicians, different media and art forms. Obviously, Steve with film and comedy and writing and performing. You’re also a passionate art collector. Alison, you have tremendous business acumen running Compass Records for so long with your husband.
This is a question as a fellow sort of striving, creative person: How do you balance all of it? I always wonder when I see people like you, is this something that you set aside and approach each discipline as a chunk? Or do you feel more like these are constantly interwoven? Is there a seamless overlap of your various disciplines and ideas and you’re just weaving in and out? Or is it more, “I do this for this time” and now, “It’s comedy time. I’m gonna work on this.” How do you break it down?
SM: Go ahead, Alison. I know my answer.
AB: Okay. So mine probably is less interesting, ’cause mine is kinda like that right brain versus left brain thing. I find that sometimes I’ll be doing just banjo for a stretch of time or music or producing a record or getting to go out and play shows. Other times, I’ll be behind the desk doing spreadsheets and financials – that kind of thing. In some kind of bizarre way, the two things inform each other.
I think for me, I spent so many years in school and got an MBA studying finance. I was an investment banker for a while, so there’s part of me that really enjoys doing all that and feels a responsibility to my mom and dad, too, that I do some of that stuff on some kind of regular basis. I have to look analytically at the music business. I think it helps me when I go in the studio to think about positioning a record – whether I’m producing or just writing my own stuff – positioning it for success, because I understand the challenges of the business landscape in a way that if I was just a banjo player, I wouldn’t understand.
Then when I get to go out and play, it’s like a complete relief just to be out and let your mind be a little bit more free. I know you can be structured and disciplined about creating, but it’s a completely different mindset to sit and look at financials than it is to have enough of an expansive view in your mind to be creative for a moment. But, somehow, the two things work together.
SM: I’ll give my answer. Most people have a job. They maybe, let’s say, go to work at nine and they come home at six – or sometimes they work [until] maybe seven or eight. And if they’re gonna do any extracurricular thing, like practice the banjo, they have to do it at night or on the weekend.
But I just wake up. I don’t have a job, so I can have breakfast and have an idea and go pick up my banjo and go play it. There’s a lot of time where you’re just really doing nothing, because you don’t have a job.
I think it really is that concept they used to apply to basketball players, “being in the zone.” Where you don’t have a sense of time. It’s just there and it’s either working or not. And it’s fun, especially at this age where my creative mind is more agile, where I’m not afraid to go other places or think of things. Ideas seem to come without as much angst, because it doesn’t have to be a success. It just has to be fun.
I know Alison hates hearing that. [All laugh]
AB: No, actually. I’m glad to hear that!
SM: The creative part of my life has become really fun. Whether I’m working with Alison or with Marty or live stage shows… or just dinners! Dinners will be fun.
That’s really beautiful and really inspiring and I’m really grateful to both of you for opening up a little bit and talking me through this. Congrats! This is a fantastic album. It’s a really wide pastiche of different ideas and feelings and vibes, and it all works together. So congrats and thank you.
SM: Thank you, Ed. It’s always great to talk with you. And you’re a great player, too. Don’t forget that!
Thanks, guys.
AB: I’m thinking what we need to do is a triple banjo thing!
SM: I’m up for it! We’ll figure it out.
AB: We’ll figure it out.
SM: Fifteen banjo strings. Can’t get enough. You can never have too many.
On a recent afternoon, Paul Hoffman is standing in a parking lot in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. Lead singer/mandolinist for Greensky Bluegrass, Hoffman is pacing around the backstage lot before the gig at XL Live that evening deep in reflection about questions posed over the phone – the core of which focus on the upcoming 25th anniversary of the groundbreaking jamgrass outfit. A while back, in the depths of rural New Hampshire, I interviewed Hoffman for another project and I asked him just what the original intent was behind Greensky Bluegrass.
“To play heavy metal music on acoustic instruments,” he replied, a sly grin emerging across his face.
Now, 25 years since its inception, Greensky Bluegrass has adhered directly to Hoffman’s sentiments. These days, the group has become a marquee live act, one which uses its string instruments to transcend all genres of music, whether bluegrass or blues, rock or country, funk or soul – or even heavy metal.
Case-in-point, the ensemble’s latest album, XXV, is not only an ode to a quarter-century of passion, purpose, and performance, but also a mile marker by which Greensky Bluegrass can measure their own road to the “here and now” – this realm where the passage of time doesn’t necessarily matter, only fleeting moments onstage with the ones you love do.
XXV brings together many of those dear friends and collaborators of Greensky – Sam Bush, Billy Strings, Lindsay Lou, Nathaniel Rateliff, Aoife O’Donovan, Holly Bowling, Ivan Neville, Natalie Cressman, and Jennifer Hartswick. Each of these special guests represent chapters of the band’s continued journey to something – somewhere, anywhere – that kind and curious folks congregate in the name of fellowship, compassion, and sonic joy.
With the starting line of Greensky Bluegrass being an impromptu Halloween gig in 2000 in Kalamazoo, Michigan, other pivotal dots pop up quickly along the way. Like the inevitable camaraderie between the group and other Michigan artists like Strings and Lou, who came up in the same scene and have supported each other ever since. Or, like Sam Bush himself – Bluegrass Hall of Famer and the symbolic face of the Telluride Bluegrass Festival – being featured on the project, reminding how the Telluride stage brought Greensky Bluegrass into the national spotlight when they won its famed band contest in 2006.
For Greensky, the friendships made along the way brought endless opportunities to play alongside one another at a show, a festival, or late-night jam. Opportunities that would always be too good to pass up – don’t forget, fun is the original point, and should remain so.
XXV is also a fresh snapshot of Greensky Bluegrass. The songs are pulled from across the entire timeline of the outfit, from their early days in Kalamazoo to the mountains of Colorado. From the bright lights of Nashville to the backroads of Southern Appalachia. From the blue skies of Anytown, U.S.A., to the sandy beaches of some international destination.
After 25 years, what remains is a band of genuine souls where gratitude is only matched by hunger and curiosity for what resides just around the next corner. Greensky Bluegrass, decades later, remain ready to surprise the listener and to carry on the pure intent that emerged those many years ago.
Now that this album’s coming out, whether consciously or subconsciously, the celebration of 25 years is currently underway. What’s been kind of rolling through your mind?
Hoffman: Primarily gratitude. I’d be remiss to not be grateful that we’ve been able to [do this for 25 years]. It’s a celebration, truly. It feels so cool. We’re doing [the anniversary shows] in our hometown and playing the [Wings Event Center in Kalamazoo] for the first time, which we’ve talked about since we were a very young band. And, you know, something interesting I’ve learned is how excited people are about this retrospective project. In true Greensky fashion, it’s this unique, hybrid idea. Like, “What if we did this? What if it took this turn? What if we recorded this and revamped this?”
We didn’t just make a new record, we stopped to reflect and commemorate in a way that was meaningful to us. And it seems like it’s translating. It’s not even out yet. It’s a unique perspective on gratitude that maybe I didn’t expect. [For XXV], I don’t want to say that it was easy or something. Because we did it pretty quickly and we didn’t have to write any material and we didn’t have to make huge choices about how to present it, because there already is an arrangement and an idea. But, in some cases, we did things differently because we could and we were not beholden to some authority on how it needs to go.
[The recording process] was so casual and creative in this really innocent way – “Let’s just record this and see what happens.” And we just kept recording stuff. We didn’t even know what we were going to do next. Every moment is monumental in some way or another, but 25 years is nothing to scoff at. And this all was birthed from, “What could we do?” With making new music and new albums, there’s a pressure to create something better than we’ve ever done. Or genuine to the brand we’ve created and to ourselves, but also exploratory enough [and] a departure from the norm enough that it’s new and exciting. It feels like such a relief to do [XXV], to approach creating new material from a different perspective.
How did you decide on the guests?
I wanted to find guests that celebrate our story, that are close to us and collaborators and such, but also elevated the material in some meaningful way. And there were real pleasant surprises along the way there.
What did it mean to have Billy and Lindsay on the record, seeing as all of you emerged from the same scene in Kalamazoo and have always supported each other?
I mean, to say that it was sort of obvious and natural is probably an understatement. We joked about why we chose “Reverend,” because Billy plays it [live]. But, I also feel it’s an important song. And for me as a writer, it’s kind of a landmark in my journey as a creative. But again, even though I knew [Billy] would crush it on the guitar solo, some of the phrasing choices he makes are subtly different than mine – I love it. And, man, I can’t stress enough, what a gift [“Reverend” is]. I wrote that song almost 20 years ago. It means something different to me now, and it has throughout my life singing that song.
You’ve always been a very sonically elusive band. Was that by design or just how things evolved?
I think that we just have a spirit to not be limited. So, if we want to emulate all the things we love – and we’d love a diverse amount of things, musical things – we honor the acoustic nature of our heritage as a band, but we want so much more. We want [things] to keep us interested and engaged. We’ve allowed ourselves that creative freedom to try anything. And we think we’ve jumped the shark many times. [Laughs]
With getting older, you also start having different perspectives on what you were creating and how you want to present it.
Yeah. You know, art is timeless in some ways, because you can change your opinion about it or the way you relate to it as you mature.
When you had mentioned that you guys “jumped the shark many times,” I think that’s one of the things I appreciate about Greensky – you’re not afraid to just take a leap.
It’s one of my favorite things about musicians I admire, too, are the ones that I watch struggle to either challenge themselves, push themselves, push their boundaries, or convey a message with emotion that’s challenging, you know? If you’re willing to make a mistake, if you’re willing to truly find the line of your capacity, you have to be willing to cross it to know where it is. I’ve always said – in my later maturity – that I wonder if I’ve crossed it too many times, and in sort of a noble quest with noble intentions. [Laughs]
That’s something I love about Billy’s playing a lot. Despite being one of the greatest guitar players I’ve ever seen, I’ve watched him up there grasping for things and struggling. Struggle doesn’t always have to have a negative [connotation]. To not struggle would be complicit and boring.
The upcoming Halloween shows in Kalamazoo are the official 25th anniversary of when the stars aligned, when you, Mike [Bont], and Dave [Bruzza] played together as Greensky for the first time.
When you started asking the question, my brain went to right about now, [25 years ago]. We met [a few] weeks before Halloween. I was a college freshman and I went to this bar called the Blue Dolphin, where there was a bluegrass open mic. I saw Dave and Bont play and approached them after the thing and was like, “Hey, I just bought a mandolin,” that I’d gotten in late August before moving to college. So, I’d only had it for four or five weeks.
I didn’t know what the hell I was doing at all or what bluegrass even was. I bought the mandolin because of David Grisman, who’s so bluegrass-adjacent that I didn’t know who Bill Monroe was. I knew “Shady Grove.” [All of] which is still just a remarkable thing for me to think about. Like, what hell would my life have been had I not made that choice [to play mandolin]? What a bizarre twist of fate and then here we are 25 years later.
So, you guys met and you said, “Let’s jam”?
Yeah. A couple days later, I showed up at Bont’s house for a rehearsal. Him and Dave would just get together and pick. They were both learning bluegrass. Everything was so casual and just for fun. They would have band practices where we would get together and learn songs and stuff. And I just showed up for the next one and then didn’t go away.
What was the name of that [open mic] band?
Greensky Bluegrass. They were already playing as Greensky Bluegrass, which was named by a friend of Dave’s that played mandolin with him a little bit for fun. It was a joke in jest, “Wouldn’t it be funny to have a bluegrass band named Greensky Bluegrass?”
I don’t think I ever knew that you guys were called Greensky before the official [2000] Halloween show.
Well, I mean, what is “official” is interesting to think about. They were already [Greensky]. It wasn’t their first open mic, either. So, the first time the three of us [“officially”] played was the Halloween show. But, I think I joined them at open mics for a week or two or something [before Halloween]. And Halloween was a party. There was a poster made for fun or something. We were on the bill. Dave was in another band called Seeds & Stems. It was a house party in a house that Dave lived in. [Laughs] A pretty wild party, if I may say so.
So, it was billed as Greensky Bluegrass?
“Billed” is still kind of generous. But, yeah, we played a set in the basement and in the living room. I think the living room upstairs was just acoustic and then the jam band played downstairs in the basement, like colleges do, you know? A couple days later, we played a show at a venue in town, Club Soda in Kalamazoo, that was kind of a legendary rock club through the ‘90s and stuff. It was small, but we played there on a triple bill November 5 or something, [just] days later. And that one, I [still] have the poster. I think that was our first paid show.
Were you doing covers or did [Dave and Mike] have originals, too?
They were playing just bluegrass standards for the most part. It’s funny, that [first] night [I met] Dave, he gave me CDs – Seldom Scene, Live at The Cellar Door, a Rounder Records bluegrass compilation, and a Bill Monroe live show. And [he] was like, “Listen to these. See you on Tuesday at Bont’s house.”
In hindsight, man, to be 18 and have that kind of freedom, you know what I mean? I’ve been recently jamming on electric guitar at my house by myself for fun. And I’ve been thinking, “I wonder if I could find some dads around to start a band with for just fun.” And that experience is so foreign to me now, because I’m so immersed in this thing that’s become my life.
Looking back on it, you kind of jumped into the deep end pretty quickly.
I didn’t take a mandolin lesson until COVID. [Laughs] I was self-taught, because I already knew how to play the guitar – “knew how to,” I use that a little loosely, too. Took some [music theory] classes in high school and college and I’m sort of classically trained. But, I was able to teach myself my own instrument for a really long time. I should have sooner harnessed the strength of learning from another, because when I took a lesson during COVID from a friend, I was like, “I should’ve done this a lot sooner.” [Laughs]
You know, so much of what I was learning in those early days was how to express myself as a writer and find my voice. That stuff always superseded my need for technical prowess. I think we all kind of share that sentiment, all five of us – how to present this passion piece is more important than how to do it. We took on this every-other-week gig and stuff like that [in Kalamazoo]. And the commitment to go play shows for the same crowd every other week inspired us to grow, because we needed to. We had that jam band sensibility of satiating the fans. What can we do next week that’ll keep people excited? What can we do that’s new? How can we make this better?
When you look back, you can see where the dots connect. But, when it’s happening in real time, you don’t realize what the domino effect is, where all of a sudden you’ve found yourself in this band that you’re still in 25 years later.
Yeah. I was 18 [when we started the band]. I’ve lived with Dave and Bont for 25 years of my life. I didn’t even live with my parents that long. [Laughs] I’ve spent 200+ days of [every] year of my life with those two guys for 25 years, and the other ones for many years, as well. It’s kind of wild. It’s so cool that we created this project, [which has become] just a celebration of our relationship and that’s so much more important than what it has become. We care about each other and we genuinely have a lot of aligned goals, artistically and personally. We’re still grinding for it, and I’m grateful for what we have.
I think we’ve been very successful. I feel less “grinding” now and more, “Let’s just go and have some fun and play some shows.” Play where people want us to play and not measure our success by how many tickets we sell. And I’m starting to learn that more now. It took 25 years for me to figure out that what we have is great. We’ve got something cool, let’s just keep doing it.
And that’s got to be a nice place to get to, because you don’t get to 25 years by accident. The fact the original three members are still there is amazing, because that story is not that common in the grand scheme of things in this industry.
Even in our culture. It’s not even [common] in business partnerships, families, friendships. And the reality of that – that I’m learning with age – is that relationships change and everything shouldn’t be measured by the testament of time. I want to find value in a moment that is for the sake of “now” and not some transactional [thing]. Like, if I’m nice to you “now,” then we’ll have this friendship that serves us both and we’ll be there for each other. All that kind of stuff is great, but I want to live in the moment.
I think what’s remarkable is that we’ve stayed together, because we’ve all grown and changed in similar ways and our journeys have aligned the whole time, or for the most of the time. We’ve veered away from each other and back to each other many times. But, when one of us has wanted something different, we’ve all kind of shared that desire. In a way, we’ve been able to all be very sincere to ourselves and grow and change together.
I don’t mean to speculate what other bands are like or anything like that, but I don’t have a lot of relationships in my life that have lasted this long. And not just people, but to things like food or activities I enjoy. The only thing maybe is the way I’ve worn my hair for 30 years. [Laughs] When we grow, our tastes change for all things. But, my [creative, intrinsic] tastes for these four other men have not changed.
My new album’s theme, along with the theme of this Mixtape, is a roots-inspired journey through the South, with songs that evoke the feeling of traveling across its landscapes and into the heart of the Deep South. I hope the fans enjoy the journey of these songs and all the sounds and people it takes to make them come to life on Southern Sky – it takes a village.
That village comes to life across the nine-track journey of Southern Sky, where Irish roots fuse with Southern soul driven by Dobros, fiddles, and rich storytelling that soar with Appalachian tradition and Southern warmth. Inspired by the textures of the South, the spirit of the album is like Allen Toussaint’s Southern Nights, where Appalachian tales intertwine with the deep twang of the South.
Southern Sky features a multitude of musical titans – Vince Gill, Tim O’Brien, Ricky Skaggs, and Sam Bush to name a few – all contributing to the exceptional sound that I strive for. – Danny Burns
“Summer in Siam” – The Pogues
I always loved this tune, growing up listening to the Pogues and having met Shane many moons ago.
“My Old Friend the Blues” – Steve Earle
Steve is one of my favorites. I’ve had the honor to sing with him, open shows with him, and hang on his bus. His songs are epic; this is a great example of that.
“Southern Nights” – Citizen Cope
I first met Clarence Greenwood in New Orleans when I was driving him, Neal Casal, and Jon Graboff (the Cardinals) around while they were playing Tipitina’s. I fell in love with Clarence’s songs and his performances. Another great American artist and songwriter.
“Whenever You Come Around” – Vince Gill
I’m a huge fan of Vince and this track is about as good as it gets. I’ve always admired his songs, his voice, and everything he brings to the table.
“Locals Only” – ERNEST
I first heard this song down in Mexico during the pandemic while hanging out on the beach in Puerto Morelos. It became a bit of an anthem for those days by the water.
“Waiting On You” – Cecilia Castleman
A truly killer talent. Cecilia can play, she can sing, and I’m sure her skills as an engineer and producer are just as strong. This song is fantastic.
“Angel Flying Too Close To The Ground” – Willie Nelson
This has always been one of my go-to lonesome Willie tunes.
“That’s How Every Empire Falls” – John Prine
Epic song written by RB Morris out of Knoxville. I love both versions, but it was John’s take that first introduced me to it.
“The Lucky One” – Alison Krauss & Union Station
What can I say about Alison’s voice– absolutely world-class. Pair that with a world-class band, production, and song and it’s just unbeatable.
“Years” – Sierra Ferrell
This is pure ear candy. So intriguing and instantly captivating. It feels amazing and sounds incredible. Perfect work!
“Colony” – Damien Dempsey
A heavy hitter in the Irish scene, this track is a prime example of his finest work.
“Settle For A Slowdown” – Dierks Bentley
I really loved this album; it feels like a perfect introduction to where country meets bluegrass with a modern twist.
“Señor” – Tim O’Brien
Love Tim and his take on this epic Bob Dylan song.
“Linger” – Áine Burns
Love Áine’s take on this Cranberries hit – can’t wait to hear more from her before the year’s end.
This feature ought to start with a laundry list of our subject’s accomplishments, but rootsy country hitmaker Dierks Bentley’s résumé and inventory of accolades, awards, and trophies would be far too long to include. After 30+ years in Nashville, Bentley has more than made it and his particular brand of country – down-to-earth approachability, bro-ey (while remarkably non-toxic) good-time vibes, honeyed crackling vocals, an unwavering sense of humor, and fierce love for bluegrass virtuosity – has now gained such a strong gravitational pull, it continues to shift Music Row. (For the better, of course.)
In June, Bentley released his eleventh studio album, Broken Branches, and launched an eponymous continent-spanning tour with everybody’s favorite, fellow trad country lover Zach Top, and swampgrass North Georgia duo the Band Loula in tow. Broken Branches features guests like Miranda Lambert, Riley Green, John Anderson, and more and – like all of the albums in his expansive Dierkscography – quite a few string band- and bluegrass-inspired moments, as well.
The Broken Branches Tour, which has been clipped and shared thousands and thousands of times on social media over the past several weeks, includes many hits, striking sets and theatrical tech, cameos from the infamous Hot Country Knights, and, yes, plenty of bluegrass. On the set list, Bentley and Top duet on an incredible “Freeborn Man” – we’re leaving out spoilers here so you can catch the tour’s scant remaining dates yourself and still be delighted. Bentley also performs the title track from his hit bluegrass album, 2010’s Up On The Ridge, and Logan Simmons and Malachi Mills of The Band Loula join him elsewhere in the set for a delicious bit of church.
Singing a Bill Monroe bluegrass gospel number in tight, intricate three-part harmony may seem like an odd choice for a big mainstream country arena show, but longtime fans and listeners of Bentley will know this is no aberration. This is the norm. Whatever the sonics of his music, from the most poppy and radio-ready country to the more Americana-coded to straight-ahead bluegrass, classic rock, and New Orleans grooves (and back again), Bentley brings bluegrass with him everywhere he goes. He brings its pickers, legends, and unsung heroes, too, uplifting them for all to enjoy.
When Mills, Simmons, and Bentley step to the center stage of an enormous auditorium or amphitheater to sing “Get Down On Your Knees and Pray,” depicted behind them on towering LED screens is a little log cabin dive bar with a neon cross steeple and a flickering “open” sign. As they lead the audience in the stark, convicting, hair-raising number – with grit and heart and endless spirit – you realize, yes, this is church. This is gospel. This is country and bluegrass, front porch music and arena music. This is Saturday night and this is Sunday morning.
It’s hard to imagine all of these intricate roots music details not only being palpable in a show of this scale, but they’re also measured, vulnerable, and intimate – traits not known as hallmarks of either country or bluegrass. It’s here that we find exactly the conglomeration of reasons why Bentley retains such widespread appeal and adoration from fans of all entry points. While neither he nor any other artist is universally loved, Dierks Bentley accomplishes being the modern country “everyman” not by diluting himself and his personality beyond recognition, but by purposefully, creatively, hilariously – and spiritually! – putting all of himself on the line in his music.
Before the Broken Branches tour launched earlier this summer, Good Country sat down backstage with Dierks Bentley and the Band Loula during a break from tour rehearsals, after the trio had just run through “Get Down On Your Knees and Pray.” We spoke about what bluegrass means in a country context, the appeal of gospel to folks of any (or no) faith, tent revivals and camp meetings, the joys and vulnerabilities of singing harmony, and much more.
Obviously, Dierks, across your entire career you’ve had a relationship with bluegrass. And not just Up On The Ridge, which we just heard you rehearse a bit of for the Broken Branches Tour. You’ve got records and posters on the wall at the Station Inn here in Nashville, you namecheck Keith Whitley on the new album. You’ve worked with the McCourys over and over, Charlie Worsham, an excellent bluegrass picker, is in your band. There are so many more bluegrass touchpoints. Your bluegrassy CMA Awards show appearance last year was very popular with our audience.
And for y’all, the Band Loula, you call yourself “swampgrass.” The harmonies clearly have the grit and the gospel of bluegrass and the timbre of how your voices blend together reminds me of bluegrass.
It might be an obvious question to ask, but I figured we could go around the circle here and get each of your takes on what does the genre mean to you? What’s your relationship with bluegrass? What does bluegrass mean to you in the constellation of country music that you make now?
Dierks Bentley: When I think about bluegrass, obviously it’s the music and all that, but really it’s just people with acoustic instruments gathering to play and sing together. I never really did a lot of stints on my own, solo. Probably I’m not good enough, but bar gigs where I was just doing cover songs never really interested me. I always liked being in a band. I love the way this instrument talks to that instrument, this voice talks to that voice, and this voice gets added and– “Whoa!”
Like the Osborne Brothers, they’re switching harmonies. Sonny is singing the high tenor, then the next thing you know, he is on like a low baritone part. The voices, the way they move around. That’s the main thing, that’s what drew me in when I walked into the Station. And there were guys my age. I always thought bluegrass was kinda like Hee Haw stuff. I walked in and I was like, “Oh my God, there’s guys my age.”
It was about just playing songs together. And they were doing a lot of Merle Haggard songs, George Jones songs mixed in. Johnny Cash songs mixed in with Stanley Brothers, the Osborne Brothers, and all that too. So it was just, “Wow.”
It’s more about the community of people congregating through and with their instruments. And using those to have fun – and drinks as well. [Laughs] Lotsa drinks, a lot of moonshine back then. The real stuff! No label on it.
Not 30 proof. [Laughs]
DB: That’s what it means to me and that’s what I hear in [The Band Loula’s] music, a lot of, if you want to call it, “front porch” picking music. Picking their roots – you know, deep, Southern gospel-y kind of roots, the mixing of that, and those voices together.
That’s what bluegrass has always been to me. It’s about the community as much as it is about the instrumentation and the bands. It’s the great community of people.
(L to R): Logan Simmons and Malachi Mills (of the Band Loula) confer with Dierks Bentley during rehearsals for the Broken Branches Tour. Photo by Zach Belcher.
Logan Simmons: I’ll say something that comes top of mind for me. I spent my whole life going to tent revivals. It’s not just, “I go and it’s summer camp, ’cause somebody made me.” It’s like the pinnacle of who I am.
I really believe that it’s the pillar of my family. We go for about 10 to 15 days every year. It’s beside my nanny’s house, and all it is, red-back hymns and bluegrass. The service happens every night and you go for about an hour and a half before service starts, before preaching starts, to hear bluegrass, gospel bands.
That’s how I learned harmonies, hearing all my godmothers and aunts sing the wrong ones around me. [Laughs] And you’ll hear somebody over there, Linda’s like [sings operatically and off-tune] and she’s not on it at all. But I was at least learning something and I feel like with my roots in general, it already infused that bluegrass sound into my life.
Then when Malachi and I became friends and started making music together. He has a lot of Motown roots. I think, blended together, the blues and bluegrass just made something beautiful. And, on top of that, the family harmony we have together. We’ve been friends forever, half our lives.
Malachi Mills: It all comes back to blues, yeah. And just like you said, that cross-pollination of the different genres. North Georgia is like the southern point of Appalachia. Like she said, it really influences the music we make by our harmonies. That’s the biggest thing we take from it. I love bluegrass music, but I’m not like a bluegrass buff. I would lose at bluegrass trivia. [Laughs] But it’s just in our bones and in the harmonies that she was talking about. Growing up in church and everything influences the way that we sing together and the notes that we pick whenever we’re singing harmonies. One of the biggest things that I love about bluegrass is the rhythm and pocket. And the intonation of the instruments. Bluegrass players choose to be intentional about [all of] it, the pocket, the timing, the tuning. It’s all so dead on. The details matter when you’re making records.
Dierks Bentley and band give Good Country and members of the media an exclusive sneak peek at their Broken Branches Tour set at rehearsals in May 2025 in Nashville. Photo by Zach Belcher.
I think that’s one of the reasons why it’s striking that y’all have this bluegrass song as part of this big, arena-sized stage show. Because for me, translating those details in such a big space and in such a broad format could be really hard.
Then I hear and see y’all singing in three parts with a neon cross behind you and suddenly yes, this is church. This is what it is. Any close-singing harmony vocals are great, but when it really sounds like bluegrass to me is when you can hear the reeds of your voices match up when you’re harmonizing. That was a really beautiful moment.
Could you talk a little bit about capturing those details for a big audience in big rooms like this – or even outside, in amphitheaters. How do you take a Bill Monroe gospel song and translate it to that space?
DB: Well, there’s “Bluegrass” Ben Helson out there walking the hallways. Ben and a couple other guys in the band have played with Ricky Skaggs. Ben played with Ricky and Tim [Sergent] still plays with Ricky. I always say, if you can graduate from the Ricky Skaggs school of bluegrass and country music, you’re probably a pretty good musician. He also played with Rhonda Vincent.
I’m a big Del McCoury fan. They did [“Get Down on Your Knees and Pray”] and Del has such a cool version of it. We were just kinda thinking of songs to do with these guys that would be great using their voices. Like [they] said, they’re the blues and bluegrass. I’m still trying to figure out their sound. It’s such a unique mixture; it’s so Americana in the way that in this country we have this melting pot of stuff. We thought it would be cool to do a little three-part thing, so that one came up.
Marty Stuart also did a really cool version of that song. But Ben [Helson], our guitar player really came up with that [arrangement], leaning into the swampy stuff they do. Gave it that feel, a little Southern – I don’t know what the vibe is there, but that telecaster is playing and it just has a cool kind of dirty, bluesy vibe to it. Then working up the harmonies, there’s just something about hearing a cappella bands.
I remember seeing Billy Strings at a bluegrass festival years ago and the band all stopped – no one knew who he was back then. Bryan Sutton had told me who he was, so I was where he was. He played like a Thursday set in the middle of the day. They had just done three songs and then they stopped and did a four-part harmony thing. There’s just something about it that’s so powerful. It goes straight to your soul.
The oldest version of entertainment there was was probably harmonizing. Finding people, seeing how your voices sound together, it’s a weird, cool thing. Singers talk about it all the time, in any genre of music about how seeing how we sound together is an intimate thing.
It’s vulnerable and it’s immediately establishing that community that you’re talking about. “We may not be a band, but now we’re a thing.”
DB: I feel like I blend well with anybody, because I’m like the condition. I sing it pretty straight here and allow the people around me to really do their stuff. I’m just gonna hold the line. There’s like nothing special about my voice, but it’s good to blend with ’cause other people have these amazing voices. They can do a lot of movement and a lot of great vibrato. I’m like the dumbest Del McCoury School of Bluegrass [student], just find that note and put everything into it. [Laughs]
Not to mention, introducing people to bluegrass as well – I love that. You have a chance to be a bridge to your heroes and that is always fun. People have been that to me, Marty Stuart probably the biggest. You get into Marty Stuart’s music and you find out who he likes, and then, whoa! He brings you back there. So [I hope] this turns somebody onto Bill Monroe. That’s pretty cool.
Dierks Bentley has a quiet moment on stage during rehearsals for the Broken Branches Tour. Photo by Zach Belcher.
Country – a lot like blues, R&B, and the early days of rock and roll – it has this often tempestuous and inspiring relationship between the fun of Saturday night and the conviction of Sunday morning. So seeing y’all sing that song in front of the depiction of a church as a dive bar, complete with a neon cross and a flickering “open” sign – to me that’s “a little bit holy water, a little bit Burning Man” epitomized. You guys are embodying that relationship between the sacred and the secular here. And that duality is all over your new album, too, Dierks.
MM: I’ll say, I think that one of the biggest things that contributes to that is the goosebump, hair-standing-up-on-your-arm feeling. It’s knowing that you have a part in something and whenever you sing and play bluegrass music together, you have to give way to one another on stage. So it’s the whole stage saying we’re doing this very intentionally in unity, in harmony.
And everybody in the crowd, whether they know that or not, they feel it. That’s what I think people feel. Even if you’re not a believer and maybe the message that’s being said [doesn’t apply], but you still resonate with serving each other. With being present, which is a strong energy. I think that’s what makes me excited about playing this song. I don’t know what’s gonna happen emotionally for me whenever that moment happens, ’cause it’s gonna be so much of that unified energy.
DB: Unified energy is a good way of putting it. It’s unified and it really is energy.
We’re pretty involved with the church. I have an older daughter who’s involved in the church and another middle daughter who doesn’t believe it like I did. But there’s something divine that you just can’t ignore, whether you believe it or not – just look at a sunset, look at a flower, look at a fish, look at so much unnecessary beauty in the world. There’s just some energy that exists and you can’t deny it when you sing a song like this. It just taps [something] on anybody. Recognizing how small you are in this world and the power of whatever version of prayer you do.
LS: I liked how you said it joins secular and holy together and that actually made me think of the tent revival, as well. I think growing up in Appalachia, like Malachi said – I wish I could just teleport you there so you could experience!
DB: That would be cool, a tent revival – I can’t even imagine.
I haven’t been to a camp meeting or revival in so long!
LS: Everybody’s invited to camp meeting. I don’t know if you’d love it. Our tent – I say tent, it’s like a shack on a square, it’s like a big square, four sides. So we’ll say, “Are you on the upper line or the lower line?” We’re on the upper line, which is not a good thing. It’s like you think upper line is like uppity people or something, but it’s not. Our shack is the oldest and [most] untouched of the whole campground. It was built in 1846.
DB: Wow!
LS: So there’s holes in the roof and like, my bunk bed, I get water drops on my head if it rains. There’s hay floors, there’s no air, and there’s a lot of us, so it’s all packed in there. But camp meeting is where I learned my first Bible verses and where I smoked my first joint. [Laughs] So it all marries together how you said, like holy and secular at the same time. I think of that picture of going to the gospel tent revival, going to camp meeting, singing those red-back hymns, doing all those things – but then also learning the grit of growing up.
I just loved when you said joining those things together, because that was such a representation of my upbringing. Yeah, it’s a little bit holy water, a little bit Burning Man. It’s definitely Saturday nights and Sunday mornings – and the tent revival is where I feel like those two worlds are so evident.
Dierks, in all you’ve done across your career there are all these bluegrass moments. The country that you “grow,” it’s mainstream, it’s radio-ready, but it’s like there’s bluegrass in the “soil” you grow it in, so you can always taste bluegrass in everything you do. Like on the new record, “Never You” with Miranda Lambert feels that way and “For As Long As I Can Remember”–
DB: There’s a little “Circles Around Me” by Sam Bush [reference] there at the top of that song.
Oh my gosh, yeah! Exactly what I’m talking about.
You said a little bit earlier turning people onto your heroes always feels great, but for you, from your own perspective being that guy that used to just hang out at the Station Inn and now being the Dierks Bentley and going on tour in sheds and arenas and amphitheaters… Why do you keep bluegrass with you?
Dierks Bentley: It is selfish in a lot of ways. I have such a great band and I just take so much joy watching them do cool stuff that I can’t do. It’s like our guitar player, Ben, he’s just an unbelievable flat picker. Charlie Worsham’s in our band and Charlie won the CMA Musician of the Year. He is just an incredible musician. Dan [Hochhalter] is an incredible fiddle player. Tim is so underutilized. Our steel guitar player – who plays banjo and everything else – he’s one of the best singers to me. Hearing him is like hearing Merle Haggard. He sings like nobody else, but he’s also so underutilized. And Steve’s been playing with me since 1999.
It’s just a great group and we love bluegrass music, featuring that, and having the music part of the show. I like being in a band setting, so just getting to be around it and hear these instruments swirling around me playing, I think it’s just cool.
I got a chance to play ROMP Festival last year and I feel lucky to be friends with guys like Jerry Douglas and Sierra Hull and have them come up on stage and play with us. I still think bluegrass music is the punk rock of country. It’s just the coolest genre of music there is.
It’s gotta be centering or grounding to a certain degree just to have that as something you can go back to, to feed yourself and fill yourself back up even while you’re touring.
DB: Absolutely. In the show we go from playing Tony Rice to John Michael Montgomery. We play bluegrass with the Hot Country Knights with costumes on. It’s just it’s all very selfish! It’s like, “How can I have a lot of fun in the next 90 minutes?”
I wanna do our radio country. I want people singing songs back, because that’s a great feeling. I want to get a little bluegrass in there. Just see if we get away with that. Then, can we try to get canceled on the way out? [Laughs] I dunno. It’s really fun for me. And having these guys [out with us] and getting to harmonize with them, it’s gonna be really fun. Check back in a few months, see how it turned out.
Want more Good Country? Sign up to receive our monthly email newsletter – and much more music! – direct to your inbox.
All photos by Zach Belcher.
This website uses cookies to improve your experience. We'll assume you're ok with this, but you can opt-out if you wish.AcceptRejectRead More
Privacy & Cookies Policy
Privacy Overview
This website uses cookies to improve your experience while you navigate through the website. Out of these, the cookies that are categorized as necessary are stored on your browser as they are essential for the working of basic functionalities of the website. We also use third-party cookies that help us analyze and understand how you use this website. These cookies will be stored in your browser only with your consent. You also have the option to opt-out of these cookies. But opting out of some of these cookies may affect your browsing experience.
Necessary cookies are absolutely essential for the website to function properly. This category only includes cookies that ensures basic functionalities and security features of the website. These cookies do not store any personal information.
Any cookies that may not be particularly necessary for the website to function and is used specifically to collect user personal data via analytics, ads, other embedded contents are termed as non-necessary cookies. It is mandatory to procure user consent prior to running these cookies on your website.
