Tag: Sam Bush

John Jorgenson Revisits His Southern California Bluegrass Roots

Posted on by Editor

John Jorgenson is not only a man of many talents, he’s a musician with many interests. Perhaps you’ve heard his gypsy jazz, or remember when the Desert Rose Band — a neo-trad country group that included Jorgenson, Chris Hillman and other luminaries of the California country and country-rock scene — was riding high at radio, or perhaps you saw him playing an indispensable role in Elton John’s touring band. As Jim Reeves might have put it, he’s done a lot in his time.

Even so, you might not know that John Jorgenson is also a bluegrass guy — unless, that is, you saw him on the road with Earl Scruggs during the legend’s final touring years, or happened to buy his 2015 box set, Divertuoso, which included a disc of bluegrass alongside one of gypsy jazz and another of eclectic, electric music. Earlier this year, that disc was issued as a standalone album, From the Crow’s Nest. Featuring the regular (and equally eclectic) members of the John Jorgenson Bluegrass Band (J2B2) — Herb Pedersen, Mark Fain and Jon Randall — it’s a delicious collection that scatters well-known songs (Pedersen’s “Wait a Minute”; Randall’s “Whiskey Lullaby” co-write; and the Dillards’ “There Is a Time”) among a trove of newer material, much of it written or co-written by Jorgenson.

From the Crow’s Nest ought to go some distance in alerting wider audiences to a new standard-bearer for a style of bluegrass that, while its roots trace back to the early 1950s, hasn’t gotten the attention it deserves. Though Southern California is a long way from the Grand Ole Opry and other spawning grounds for the original bluegrass sound, it served in the post-World War II years as a magnet for job seekers from both sides of the Mississippi River, and that meant bluegrass pickers, too — and so, when we met up, that made for a good starting point for our conversation.

Listening to your album reminds me that you are a product of a Southern California roots music scene that included bluegrass from early on. How did you get exposed to it?

Probably the first time was when a band came to my high school and I thought they were from another planet, because I’d never heard anything so fast in my life. I played music already — I played classical music, and rock — but that was sort of an anomaly, and then I didn’t really see it again for a while.

I came to it sort of in a backwards way. I had a scholarship to the Aspen Music Festival. They brought me in as a jazz bass player; they wanted to start a jazz program. And I accepted the scholarship as long as I could also be in their classical program, playing the bassoon. Well, I had my tuition paid for, and my room paid for, but I didn’t have money for meals. So I needed to figure out how to make some money, and then I saw an ad that said: Wanted: strict jazz player for immediate gigs. So I checked out an upright bass from the school and went to this audition. And they weren’t playing jazz — what they were playing was David Grisman’s first album. This was the summer of 1978, so this album was new. I’d never heard it.

So they’re playing all instrumental stuff and I thought, OK, I really like the sound, especially of that mandolin. I liked the flatpicking guitar, too. I was already a guitar player, but I just loved the mandolin. When I got home that summer, my neighbors had a Gibson A model and I borrowed it. Not too long after that, I ran into a friend who had been instructed to put together a band that could play bluegrass and Dixieland to cover two different areas of Disneyland. And he asked, “Hey, do you know anybody that could play bluegrass fiddle and Dixieland cornet?” And needing a job at the time, I said, “I can play mandolin and clarinet.”

And then I kind of learned backwards, whatever I could. I learned from New Grass Revival, and then Bill Monroe, and Flatt & Scruggs, and the Stanley Brothers, and the Osborne Brothers. And all the others — Tony Rice, Sam Bush, the Bluegrass Cardinals, whoever was playing around at the time. Larry Stephenson was playing with the Cardinals at that time, and I remember I was — I don’t want to say shy, but I’m shy around people I don’t know. And to me at the time, they were real bluegrass musicians and I was a pretender. I sort of felt an attitude from some people, too, but he was not like that at all. He was really friendly.

Did playing bluegrass at Disneyland motivate you to build connections with the larger bluegrass scene, or was it a standalone kind of gig?

Actually, when we first started, we were terrible! We learned three songs and then we’d play those, move to a different place and play them again. But everyone was ambitious, so we all practiced; we learned songs, we got better. And then we started to play out around Los Angeles. I think the first time we played out as an act, we opened for Jim & Jesse at McCabe’s [Guitar Shop]. There was also a venue called the Banjo Cafe, with bluegrass every night, on Lincoln [Boulevard] in Santa Monica. So the Cardinals played there; Berline, Hickman & Crary would play there; and touring acts, too — Ralph Stanley would play there. And a young Alison Brown, a young Stuart Duncan.

I know that there are a lot fans of Desert Rose Band among bluegrassers, and some gypsy jazz fans, too, but for a lot of people, you came onto the radar when you were going places with Earl Scruggs — 15 years ago, maybe? How’d that come about?

Actually, it was because of Brad Davis. He was playing with Earl, and we were kind of guitar geek friends. We ended up sitting next to each other on a plane one time, and were chatting, and he said, “I’m playing with Earl Scruggs,” and I said, “I’d love to do that.” He said, “You know, they like to have an electric guitar, maybe there might be a spot.” He really set that up for me.

I said, “OK, I’m happy to play electric guitar, but I would really love to play the mandolin.” So I would bring both, and if I played too much mandolin, Louise [Scruggs] would say, “John, don’t forget that electric guitar.” Then they said, “Don’t you play saxophone? We used to have that on a song called ‘Step It Up and Go.’” So I said, “What about the clarinet? It’s not quite so loud.” And as it turns out, Earl said his favorite musician was Pete Fountain, and he loved the clarinet. So every time after that, Gary Scruggs would call me up: “Dad says don’t forget the moneymaker.”

The J2B2 record was originally part of a box set — a disc of gypsy jazz, one of bluegrass, one of electric stuff. So you have these different musical itches, and some musicians would choose to try to synthesize these things into something new and different and unique, but you seem to have an interest in keeping them each their own thing. Why is that?

It’s because, to me, the things that I love about bluegrass are what make it bluegrass. I love the trio harmony, I love these instruments, the way each instrument functions in the band. And I love gypsy jazz, and some folks might say they’re closely related — they’re string band music, they both have acoustic bass and fiddle and acoustic guitar, and each instrument has a role. There are a lot of similarities, but the things that I like about each one are what make them different. I think each music has an accent, and a history and a perspective, and I really want to be true to those, because those are the elements that touch my heart.

I feel like what I do and what this group does is quite traditional, compared to a lot of people. It’s not jamgrass. It’s not Americana. It’s bluegrass. There are folk elements, and all those other things, of course. But really, my touchstones for that style of music are all the classics: the trio harmonies of the Osborne Brothers, and the slightly softer Seldom Scene and Country Gentlemen sounds, the early Dillards, the Country Gazette, and the whole Southern California sound… you don’t think of Tony Rice’s roots as Southern California, but they are.

And probably at one point, if I could have sounded like I was from Kentucky, I wouldn’t have minded that. But at the end of the day, well, I love Bill Monroe as much as the next guy, and I’m going to take inspiration, but I feel like I’m part of a lineage of bluegrass that’s just as viable as any other, and why not have that sound be a part of me?

Photo credit: Mike Melnyk

Mark O’Connor, ‘Pickin’ In The Wind’

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Mark O’Connor comes about as close to being a household name as any musician in bluegrass (and its adjacent genres). Because bluegrass is predicated upon instrumental skill, the origin point of O’Connor’s recognition will always be his virtuosity, his musical expertise, and his command of his instrument. He’s a true master of bluegrass fiddle and contest fiddle forms, he’s a trailblazer in fiddle-flavored classical compositions of all manners and sorts, his musical code-switching extends to jazz, gypsy jazz, and swing, and he is pervasive on recordings and sessions from his years spent in Nashville. He even has his own violin and fiddle curriculum, The O’Connor Method, which pedagogically capitalizes on and celebrates American music, rather than Western European music, as usual.

Yet, no matter the level to which he transcends any/all musical barriers or the ubiquity of his name and brand, many folks don’t know he’s a maddeningly adept guitar player as well. In his youth, as he racked up wins at fiddle contests far and wide, he was also taking home flatpicking trophies with the same bravado. On his iconic 1976 album, Pickin’ In The Wind, the title track and the first tune on the record opts not to showcase his signature fiddling, but rather his guitar picking — backed up by a band that is no less than jaw-dropping: John Hartford on banjo, Sam Bush on mandolin, Norman Blake on dobro, Roy Huskey Jr. on bass, and Charlie Collins on the rhythm guitar. The tune listens down as straight-ahead bluegrass, but with a chord progression and arrangement that never strays into the simplistic, thanks in part to O’Connor’s compositional taste and the supreme talent of his fellow musicians. It’s an O’Connor staple that doesn’t require a single bowstroke.

So, in celebration of O’Connor’s birthday (August 5), it seems appropriate that we shine a light on the guitar stylings and the unbelievable ensemble of “Pickin’ In The Wind.”

WATCH: Becky Buller & Sam Bush, ‘The Rebel and the Rose’

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Artist: Becky Buller
Hometown: St. James, Minnesota
Song: “The Rebel and the Rose”
Album: Crêpe Paper Heart
Label: Dark Shadow Recording

In Their Words: “’The Rebel and the Rose’ is a period piece, with its reference to a soldier and his love navigating love and loss amid the turmoil of civil war. It is also, however, a classic story about choices, desperation and hope … and the redemptive power of love. The tender message within is quite fitting for contemporary life; a commentary on things that tear us apart and things that bring us together … and how quite often, the tearing apart or joining together is a choice of the heart, separate from any issue. This song is special to me on so many levels, from writing it with my dear friend, Tony Rackley, to recording it with my hero, Sam Bush. The message of hope in this song is timeless; not one of us is so broken that love can’t mend us.” — Becky Buller

Photo credit: Shelly Swanger

ROMP 2018 in Photographs

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

The Bluegrass Hall of Fame and Museum’s annual ROMP Festival celebrated its 15th anniversary with more than 27,000 people attending the four-day bluegrass roots and branches music event at Yellow Creek Park in Owensboro, Kentucky. Those lucky 27,000 were treated to a a sunset performance by the iconic Alison Krauss, a split set of bluegrass and country by newly-minted Country Music Hall of Famer Ricky Skaggs, a rowdy and non-stop dance party by Ireland’s We Banjo 3, a rocking finale performance by the ‘Father of Newgrass’ Sam Bush, and much, much more. Check out our photo recap to relive the highlights or to find out what you missed.

Lede photo by Alex Morgan

Nefesh Mountain, “Eretz’s Reel”

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

For forty years now the Station Inn has lurked in Nashville’s Gulch, carrying the bluegrass banner in a town with pop country and cover bands to spare, while condo high-rises, wine bars, rooftop lounges, and organic groceries have sprouted up around the small, unassuming stone club. On any given night of those forty long years a bluegrass fan or a nonchalant passerby could step through the door and expect the best in bluegrass and old, real country. Luckily for every roots music fan in the universe, that fact is still true — and will be for the foreseeable future.

What one would not, perhaps, expect upon entering the Station Inn is vocals sung in Hebrew, or bluegrass songs based on Jewish traditions and turns of phrase. But on a recent evening, these were the sounds wafting from that fabled stage, as Nefesh Mountain performed songs from their new album, Beneath the Open Sky. It’s not as though bluegrass as a genre isn’t already predicated upon subverting expectations — it’s arguably a core precept of the form — but an average Station Inn patron might still be surprised by the Jewish-infused, modern ‘grass of Eric Lindberg, Doni Zasloff, et. al. “Eretz’s Reel,” an instrumental off the new record, is a less overt example of their Jewish perspective, but brings in a transatlantic flair, Tony Trischka-esque melodic turns, and a potent dose of originality and imagination. On the record, bluegrass phenoms Sam Bush, Jerry Douglas, and David Grier lend their talents to the track, but live at the Station, Lindberg stands apart as the imagineer and linchpin of this stripped-down version of the tune.

Guthrie Trapp, ‘Crossing the Bridge’

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If you live in Nashville, if you’ve ever been to Music City, and you have not yet had the pleasure of having your face peeled off by the fiery chicken pickin’ of Guthrie Trapp, you have not truly lived. Trapp’s telecaster — whether at bluegrass club the Station Inn, a lower Broadway honky tonk, a ritzy theater, or the Ryman Auditorium — gives any/all listeners a visceral reminder of how electric country guitar playing ought to sound: immediate, raw, and wild. While his picking carries the Nashville-signature heavy dose of machismo, it’s never without finesse and above all, taste.

On his second solo album, Life After Dark, there’s plenty of this style of playing, but it’s certainly not the only motif on the menu. Ripping tele is juxtaposed with more vibey, trance-adjacent compositions, whining blues, and refreshing, acoustic, bluegrass-inflected tunes. On “Crossing the Bridge,” which features bluegrass virtuosos and powerhouses Stuart Duncan and Sam Bush, Trapp brings his telecaster attack to the flattop with bluegrass locomotion; a veteran Nashville audience member will recognize this as a more rare iteration of his creativity and talents. Hearing flat-picking that references bluegrass six-string deities like Tony Rice and Clarence White without straying into unoriginality or mimicry reminds that Trapp has a truly original voice on his instrument, no matter the genre or musical phenotype. What’s more, the artistry of the tune and the players is what shines through first and foremost, shredding sans ego … but not without self-confidence.

Old & In the Way, ‘Old & In the Way Breakdown’

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As a genre, bluegrass has always had outward-facing ambassadors — bands and musicians with platforms that enabled them to reach a wider audience than the usually insular ‘grass niche. The Dillards, as “the Darlings,” brought bluegrass to thousands of TV viewers on The Andy Griffith Show; the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band birthed an entire generation of fans with their iconic Will the Circle Be Unbroken album, showcasing the genre’s founders and heroes; Alison Krauss, with her wildly successful crossover-and-back career — she has won more Grammy Awards than any other woman ever — showed the masses that bluegrass can be aesthetic, understated, and artful without sacrificing its raw, rustic energy. It just takes a tiny taste, a glimpse behind the curtain, to hook outside listeners with that high lonesome sound.

In 1973, Jerry Garcia, David Grisman, Vassar Clements, Peter Rowan, and John Kahn coalesced as Old & In the Way, becoming one of the most influential bluegrass ambassador bands in the history of the music. Their eponymous debut record is widely regarded as the best-selling bluegrass album of all time — before the soundtrack for the infamous O Brother, Where Art Thou? surpassed it. Though Old & In the Way only lasted a year, their legacy lives on, extended and expanded through several live recordings. Released in 1997, Breakdown was recorded live at the Boarding House in San Francisco, California, by Owsley “Bear” Stanley in October 1973. The “Old & In the Way Breakdown” showcases that Garcia was not only a fan of old-time and bluegrass, but he had the chops, too, tearing it up on the five-wire. Budding bluegrass fans take note: We call this tune “Patty on the Turnpike,” too.

Join BGS as we celebrate Jerry Garcia’s songbook, from the Grateful Dead to Old & In the Way and beyond at the Theatre at the Ace Hotel in Los Angeles on March 30. With bluegrassers Sam Bush, Molly Tuttle, Billy Strings, Sean Watkins, and many more. Get your tickets for Jubilee: A Celebration of Jerry Garcia now.

Jumping into the Deep End: A Conversation with Billy Strings

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Guitar virtuoso Billy Strings (born William Apostol) is on the road somewhere between here and there, when he picks up the phone. That question “Where exactly?” gives him pause. “The other day, I couldn’t remember where I was,” he admits, a note of earnestness betraying his 25 years of age. It’s that sweet natured tendency the young have to overshare. “It took me probably at least 40 or 50 seconds just to go, ‘Oh yeah.’ I don’t know if you’ve ever felt that before, but it’s a really strange thing.” It’s the kind of problem that comes with being a popular bluegrass musician, and one he’s forever adjusting to as he zips from city to city. “We were in the van once, and I literally asked the question, ‘Is this where we are?’” he says with a laugh, knowing the existential weight of his own seemingly ordinary question.

Billy’s ever-probing mind, technical proficiency, and weighted voice all suggest a much older player. He recently released his debut LP, Turmoil & Tinfoil, recorded with Greensky Bluegrass’s producer, Glenn Brown, in the dead of Michigan’s winter. Even in that setting, it burns with a feverish heat. “It was like being snowed in, like cabin fever,” Billy says about the session, which could explain the album’s bracing pace. As much as he nods to tradition on Turmoil & Tinfoil, he also playfully stretches the bounds of bluegrass via face-melting guitar phrasing (thanks to his abiding interest in heavy metal, classic rock, the blues, and more) and socially conscious songs. Both the wounded “Living Like an Animal” and the frustrated “Dealing Despair” pry into issues of personhood and community at a time when both seem more fractured than ever. What others have termed his “authenticity,” Billy chalks up to “honesty,” and it serves, in a way, as his battle cry. He’s not afraid to keep asking questions, big or small.

Just out of curiosity, how many back-up strings do you bring on tour, given your penchant for breaking them in your wilder fits of playing?

Nowadays, I actually have three guitars onstage with me. I have two Preston Thompsons on stage, and then I have a Roy Noble on stage with me, as well. Rarely do I get to the third one anymore, but there have been times where I’ll reach for the Roy Noble.

So would you say, then, that a particularly crazy night on stage is a Roy Noble night?

Yeah, I guess so. You could.

Tradition has long been a defining force within bluegrass. How have you navigated your way through it?

I grew up playing bluegrass music and traditional bluegrass music, and I have a deep passion for that, as well, but I like all kinds of music.

Right, I know you’re a big metal fan, specifically.

Yeah, I love some death metal and some rock ‘n’ roll and blues. I like all sorts of stuff. When I was younger, I was a little bit more closed-minded about a lot of things, whether it was “Why would you want to play bluegrass but not bluegrass?” This or that, you know? But eventually I got out of that shell, and I want to get so far away from that “This is bluegrass and this ain’t” as I can. It’s just music. I’m just trying to let myself be free with music.

I think that’s something that we’re seeing a lot from the younger generation, bringing all these influences into the genre.

Definitely. I think there will always be a hint of traditional bluegrass in my shows because that’s how I learned to play guitar. My ears were trained by “How Mountain Gals Can Love” and “Blue Moon of Kentucky” — that’s the music I cut my teeth on. You’ll always hear it, I think, but I’m also going to do whatever the song calls for. I used to be embarrassed to show anybody a song that I wrote, and I’m just trying to ditch that whole mentality. Who cares if a song is that or this, or if somebody likes it or they don’t? It’s the song.

You’ve mentioned in the past that you’ve never learned anything note for note; instead, you just hear it and emulate it. What does your writing process look like, then, for original compositions?

It looks like me walking around my house with my guitar, staring at my reflection in the microwave. Pacing back and forth when nobody’s home, just scribbling on notebooks and stuff, and being on my Google Doc. I sit there with my guitar and I sing it and then, if I got something cool, I’ll write it down.

“Dealing Despair” is such a powerful original song in light of how divided the country seems. Where did that come from?

I actually wrote that quite a while back. It was after another unarmed Black man was shot down by police, and I was awfully pissed off. I was shook. I’m feeling it lately, too; there’s so much going on in the world.

It feels so divided. I mean, it always has been, but more than ever it seems.

Yeah, and we should just talk about music. But I’m feeling it lately, and you’ve gotta write about what you’re feeling, and that goes back to what I was saying about letting it happen and not worrying about if people are going to like it or not because certainly some people might take that song as a little aggressive.

I know some listeners keep clamoring for artists to shut up about politics and just be artists, but bluegrass has always been a space to sort through social issues.

Well, man, that’s folk music. Look at Woody Guthrie, Bob Dylan. You have to sing about that shit. You absolutely have to. It’s kind of our duty. I’m not going to punch anybody in the face. I’m not going to carry a gun. I’m not going to fight a war. But with my guitar, I will. All I have is my songs to fight back against the ugliness that’s out there.

But that fight exists as an “either/or” these days, and it can alienate certain listeners.

I want people that are loving and not cruel to each other to come to my shows. I really don’t care what anybody thinks. I’m just doing my thing.

Turning away from politics, your father also played on this album.

Yeah, he’s on the last track [“These Memories of You”].

I thought so! The harmonies have this interesting familial tone.

What you just said is a huge compliment to me. My voice sounds the best when it’s right next to his; I can’t sing with anybody like that. My dad didn’t even know that song. He just walked right into the studio, and I wrote the lyrics on a piece of paper, and he just did it. He knows how to follow me, and I know how to follow him. My dad is a seriously heartfelt musician. When he plays a song, he really means it. He’s not just saying the words.

You learned from him when you were younger, so what was that moment like in the studio?

He was so happy to be there. It was kind of like he was a little kid. He sits around the house and plays, but he rarely goes and plays on stage anywhere — let alone in a recording studio.

And look how the tables have turned.

Those moments are what I cherish the absolute most. For instance, when I was six or seven years old, I was learning “Beaumont Rag,” and I just played the rhythm, but I kept messing it up in this one part. Right in the middle of the song, I said, “Stop. Dad, why don’t you play it and let me listen?” I listened to what he was trying to say with the guitar, and I go, “Now, let me try it again,” and I nailed it. He started laughing. He reached over his guitar and squeezed my little hand. He called my grandmother and said, “Listen to your grandson right now!” I was a little kid, but I’ll never forget that moment. Now there have been several moments since then, like when I got to introduce my dad to David Grisman in real life because my dad introduced me to David Grisman when I was seven years old. We got to sing songs all night.

That is so wild.

Yeah, it is wild because we come from a tiny little town and it’s not always been easy, and our family has had a lot of crazy stuff. Those moments are super good for me because I feel like it’s that same thing: It brings me right back to when I got the “Beaumont Rag” right. It really pushes me, and there are all sorts of reasons that I’m doing this, but that’s a huge one — because mom and dad are proud. I’m so grateful that they turned me onto this music. My childhood was a lot of bluegrass. I’m so grateful for that because I love this music.

It’s interesting, too, because it seems like listeners are, in part, gravitating toward what they keep calling your authenticity. At 25 years old, that can be a loaded statement. How have you found your own way through that kind of praise?

I don’t know. I haven’t heard that word thrown around me that much.

Maybe not to your face.

Yeah, right. When I was talking about my songwriting, I’m just trying to do my thing and just be honest. Even in life. Don’t dip your toes in the water; just jump right into the deep end. Don’t get yourself into a situation that you don’t want to be in because you know what you really want. Don’t lie to yourself. Just be yourself.

You are wise beyond your years.

I think a lot, you know?

That comes across in your playing, too.

When I’m playing, it’s easy to learn a song and go through the routine and just play it night after night. But when I go out on stage, that’s not what I do. I try to actually pour it out with my guitar, from my heart. If you listen to a lot of the people I grew up listening to — Mac Wiseman, Bill Monroe, Larry Sparks, Keith Whitley — when they’re singing, they’re not kidding. That’s why you can cry when you hear it. I love players like that. And there’s so much music out there today, you know Top 40 everything, that’s garbage.

Well, it’s too constructed, but I can see how your dad shaped you to sing from the heart.

Every time he picks up the guitar, he does that.

What a great way to learn.

I also learned a lesson from Sam Bush without him saying anything. I leaned over and took a drink of my beer — this was quite a while ago — and I looked over at Sam Bush and he had his eyes closed playing the hell out of the rhythm. It’s like, “Why do I think that I can just stop playing the song right now to take a sip of beer? Wake up, kid. You’re playing a song. What are you doing?” It’s that attitude. Whenever those dudes play, Sam Bush gives it 110 percent. Bryan Sutton was telling me the other day that Doc would never pick up his guitar and just play a little ditty or half of a song; he would always play the whole song.

Speaking of Bryan, I know you collaborated on “Salty Sheep.” How did that come about?

I think I just called him and asked him. [Laughs] It was so amazing for me. We sat a microphone in between us, and we sat in two chairs really close to each other, just facing each other. With no headphones on, we just played the tune a couple times, and holy shit.

Well, talk about Doc Watson vibes.

Well, that’s what me and him geek out on. When we go to lunch, we’re always talking about Doc Watson. We both love him so much.

So we can expect a covers album from you two soon?

I have no idea. I’m down, but you’d have to ask Bryan. He’s such a wonderful friend and mentor. He’s done this 20 years, and he’s got a lot of advice for a young guy like me. I’m so grateful for that advice. He just gives it away for free because he’s a good friend and he cares about guitar and Doc’s legacy and all that. I’m honored to have him as a friend, and completely honored to have him on the record.

MIXTAPE: Casey Campbell’s Mandolin Masters

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With his latest release being Mandolin Duets, Vol. 1, who better than Casey Campbell to put together a Mixtape of mandolin masters for us? No one. That’s who. He has studied them all — and played with many — so take his carefully selected collection to heart (and ear).

Bill Monroe & Doc Watson — “Watson’s Blues”

Where else to begin but with the Father of Bluegrass, Bill Monroe. There are hundreds of recordings to choose from, but I’ve always been a big fan of this duo album of Bill and Doc Watson entitled Live Recordings 1963-1980: Off the Record Volume 2. It features some great duet singing from Bill and Doc, as well as a bevy of short, sweet, and to-the-point instrumentals. I am partial to “Watson’s Blues” not only because this particular recording features the writer (Bill) and the inspiration for the tune (Doc), but also because it is a bluesy little number (and I like my bluegrass to be bluesy).

Ronnie McCoury — “McCoury Blues”

Ahhh … it was the mid-2000s. MySpace was all the rage, and we had yet to discover fidget spinners, stick basses, and Netflix. You know, the good ol’ days. I came across “McCoury Blues” while scouring through Rhapsody (the Spotify before Spotify existed), and, in my opinion, it is a 21st-century take on “Watson’s Blues” with Ronnie’s smooth tremolo and Del McCoury’s powerhouse guitar runs. More importantly, this song led me to the Bluegrass Mandolin Extravaganza album. This project, spearheaded by Ronnie and David Grisman, is a mandolin goldmine including Ronnie, David, Sam Bush, Ricky Skaggs, Buck White, Frank Wakefield, Bobby Osborne, Jesse McReynolds, and Del McCoury on rhythm guitar. Of course, growing up in the bluegrass world, I had heard all of these players before, but this album was my introduction to the concept of musical style and the intricate differences between musicians. Throughout my mandolin obsession, I have continually returned to this album to draw inspiration (read: steal licks). If there is one album I would recommend to any mandolin fan, it would be Bluegrass Mandolin Extravaganza.

Mike Compton & David Long — “Tanyards”

If you haven’t picked up on the pattern yet, I’m a big fan of duet recordings. A large part of that came from this album by mandolin masters Mike Compton and David Long. My mother picked me up from middle school in her silver PT Cruiser — yes, we were that cool — with a copy of this album in the passenger seat. We listened to it on the way home, then I listened to it again, and again, and again. Mike and David have such fluid playing styles, and you would be hard-pressed to find other players that could replicate the chemistry on this album. This track does a great job of showcasing each player and also letting the two intertwine as they swap licks. It is one of my favorite albums of all time.

Ricky Skaggs & Kentucky Thunder — “Crossing the Briney”

Adding a little Irish flair to the list, here is a song that starts out bare and ends with a full-on orchestra with all of the bells and whistles (literally). This song is featured on Ricky Skaggs’s Instrumentals albums and, in my opinion, is the standout hit. I mean, where else can you hear instrumentation like this, AND a kickass Andy Leftwich fiddle solo in the middle? This song also opened my mind to how to take what is essentially a pretty standard Irish fiddle tune and raise it to a new level. Admittedly, Ricky doesn’t really get to stretch out on this tune, so it’s not the best representation of his great mandolin playing. But don’t worry: He is one of the best players mixing modern and traditional styles together, and there are plenty of great examples on this album.

The Whites (Buck White) — “Old Man Baker”

Buck White is a national treasure. Not only is he one of the sweetest humans I’ve ever had the honor of spending time with, but he is also one of the swingin’-est mandolin players you will come across. Whether he is kicking up his heels as a special guest with the Grand Ole Opry Square Dancers or playing mandolin on one of his many iconic albums with the Whites, there is no doubt he has a huge smile on his face and joy in his heart. This tune, written for fiddler Kenny Baker, is one that I often play when I am warming up on the mandolin. It’s a tough tune, for sure, with plenty of pinky work and string-jumping, but it is undoubtedly the most fun song on this list to play. Buck’s playing is just like his personality: bouncy, memorable, and always tasteful. If you are at all interested in hearing some Texas Swing mandolin playing, check out more of his catalog.

Strength in Numbers (Sam Bush) — “Texas Red”

Picking one song from the Strength in Numbers album is like picking a favorite child. People in the music business like to throw around the word “supergroup” for every other band, in hopes that it will create some kind of buzz or increase sales. Strength is one of the few occasions where the term accurately applies: Sam Bush, Béla Fleck, Jerry Douglas, Mark O’Connor, and Edgar Meyer. Between the late ’70s and mid-’80s, each of these trail-blazing musicians had helped to established a new frontier of acoustic music. Here they are, together in their prime, with one of acoustic music’s most influential instrumental albums of all time. PS: This album is Sam Bush Rhythm 101. Class dismissed.

David Grisman & Doc Watson — “Kentucky Waltz”

When I am teaching lessons or at a camp, it is without a doubt that I’ll get asked about mandolin tremolo. What is it? How do I do it? How do I make it better? All of these questions (and more) can be answered with Doc & Dawg’s version of the “Kentucky Waltz.” It is one of the most beautiful, simplest recordings of a mandolin and guitar I have come across. For the uninitiated, David Grisman is an icon in the mandolin and acoustic music worlds, heavily influencing today’s top mandolin players like Sam Bush, Ronnie McCoury, and Ricky Skaggs. With dozens of must-have albums spanning throughout his 50-year career, David led the way to the frontier of “new acoustic music” during the ’70s and ’80s. Even today, at 72, he is still going strong. touring with the David Grisman Bluegrass Experience, the David Grisman Sextet, and as a duo with Del McCoury. Despite all of his ground-breaking compositions and albums, when it comes to keeping it simple and making the most of a melody, David is still the king.

Radim Zenkl — “Memory of Jaroslav Jezek”

I couldn’t consider this list finished without introducing you to something a little outside the box. For his Galactic Mandolin album, Czech Republic mandolinist Radim Zenkl (pronounced Ra-deem Zeen-kl) experimented with different mandolin tunings for each song. Because a mandolin has four sets of strings (eight total), it is normally tuned GG-DD-AA-EE. This particular tune has the mandolin tuned in minor thirds. When I first heard this tune, I felt like it was a crazy of mixture of big band jazz and harp music, or something I might’ve heard on the original Nintendo version of The Legend of Zelda. I’m kind of mesmerized by its weirdness.

Andy Statman — “Pale Ale Hop”

While we are spending some time outside the box, now would be a good time to introduce you to Andy Statman. If there is a musical genre out there, Andy has covered it: bluegrass, jazz, Irish, klezmer, rock ‘n’ roll, etc. “Pale Ale Hop” showcases his rockin’ mandolin playing, transforming into something you might hear at a surf-rock dance party in the ’50s. My favorite thing about Andy is that, for all of his experimental compositions, he is a true student of all music and can play the most traditional bluegrass style you could imagine, then turn around and play a John Coltrane solo. If you’re interested in more of Andy’s left-of-center music, check out his earlier LPs, like Flatbush Waltz or Nashville Morning, New York Nights.

Jethro Burns & Tiny Moore — “Flickin’ My Pick”

Here is a classic album with two of the best jazz and swing mandolin players of the past century. Jethro Burns is known primarily as one half of Homer & Jethro, one of the great country comedy duos of the 1930s-60s. Despite all of his joking around, Jethro was a serious musician, playing anything from classical to bluegrass. On this particular song, he is playing the acoustic mandolin and taking the second solo. The other player you’ll hear is Tiny Moore, a pioneer of the electric mandolin. Tiny played with Bob Wills & His Texas Playboys and Merle Haggard’s band, the Strangers. Together, these two legends recorded Back to Back, which would become one of the definitive albums for jazz mandolin enthusiasts.

Norman Blake — “Valley Head”

Getting back to the roots of old-timey mandolin music, here is a tune written and played by Norman Blake. Although he is known mostly as one of the great bluegrass guitarists, both Norman and his wife Nancy are great mandolin players and have recorded quite a bit of mandolin music over the years. Similar to the “Kentucky Waltz” earlier on this list, the thing I love about Norman’s playing and this track, in particular, is the simplicity. Sure, this tune might have a lot of notes, but Norman sticks to the melody the entire way through, letting the song speak for itself. For those interested in more of Norman and Nancy’s mandolin playing, check out Natasha’s Waltz, an album that features a slew of great mandolin tunes.

Chris Thile — “Watch ‘At Breakdown”

Sometimes you’ve got to give the kids what they want … and they want Chris Thile. Between his work with Nickel Creek, Mike Marshall, the Punch Brothers, Michael Daves, the Goat Rodeo Sessions, Edgar Meyer, Jon Brion, Béla Fleck, and Brad Mehldau, among others, Chris has traversed just about every inch of the musical landscape. As if that weren’t enough, he is now the host of A Prairie Home Companion, collaborating with a new lineup of musical guests every week, including Jack White, Jason Isbell, Lake Street Dive, and more. With such a long and diverse resumé, he has become one of the most popular and influential mandolin players in the realm of Bill Monroe, David Grisman, and Sam Bush. “Watch ‘At Breakdown” is the starting track on Chris’s How to Grow a Band album, and shows off his bluegrass chops, while hinting that there are no bounds to his abilities.

ANNOUNCING: Two New Ways to Hang & Sang

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Last summer, Team BGS noticed that Facebook was really pushing their Live videos. We also saw that our friends Ann Powers and Jewly Hight were doing some casual sessions on Ann’s porch here in Nashville for NPR Music using that medium. So we decided we should give it a whirl. Ani DiFranco was coming to town, and we asked if she’d be our first. We didn’t have a name for it or much of a plan at all, but Ani said yes and City Winery said we could use their lounge. On June 30, 2016, what would become Hangin’ & Sangin’ was born.

Since then, we’ve had Sam Bush, Lori McKenna, Uncle Earl, Indigo Girls, Chely Wright, Colin Hay, Natalie Hemby, Ruby Amanfu, Special Consensus, the Revivalists, Marc Broussard, the McCrary Sisters, Whiskey Myers, Glen Phillips, Mary Gauthier, and a slew of other fantastic artists on the show.

And we’re just getting started.

In the weeks ahead, we’ll be hangin’ with Johnnyswim, Angaleena Presley, Drew Holcomb, John Paul White, Rodney Crowell, Sunny Sweeney, Keb’ Mo’, Gaby Moreno, and so many more of your favorite artists at Hillbilly Central, right off Music Row, in the heart of Nashville. Join us every Friday at 2:30 pm CT on Facebook Live, catch us every Sunday at 6:30 am and Tuesday at 9 pm on WMOT Roots Radio, or listen to the podcast via iTunes any time you like. We’d love to have you hang with us.

 

Special thanks to Alison Brown, Garry West, Gordon Hammond, and everyone at Compass Records for lending us their historic studio. Additional thanks to Jessie Scott, Val Hoeppner, John Walker, Craig Havighurst, and the whole team at WMOT Roots Radio for giving us some air time. And an extra shout out to Josephine Wood for helping get this thing off the ground to begin with. We couldn’t be happier to partner with all of you.