Tag: The Gibson Brothers

When Harmonies Run Deep: An Essential Roots Music Tradition

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Since Jamie Dailey and Darrin Vincent began singing together as Dailey & Vincent in 2007, they have awed fans in many ways: through their musicality, their sincerity, and their professionalism. But most of all, it’s about their duet singing.

It’s the way their voices blend and weave, so closely it can be hard to distinguish one from another. It’s the way their so-tight harmonies set up a vibration that makes the world tilt a little bit when they reach the high notes. It’s the way we sigh after they stop singing, because all’s right with the world.

Although they aren’t related, Dailey & Vincent do the bluegrass phenomenon of a “brother duet” like nobody’s business. They capture the familial force that Grammy-winning bluegrass artist Laurie Lewis describes as delightfully “making the hair on our arms and legs stand up.”

With Dailey & Vincent as our Artist of the Month, we thought we would peek into the history and tradition of brother duets and other harmony-driven duos that led to this great contemporary partnership.

Two Brothers and Two Instruments

For bluegrass journalist, songwriter, performer, and teacher Jon Weisberger, the term “brother duet” refers to something very specific: “A brother duet is basically a guitar and a mandolin and two guys, and they could be brothers, like the Monroe Brothers or the Blue Sky Boys [Bill and Earl Bolick] or even the Delmore Brothers.”

But many of the early duos later added more musicians. “They became something else, in this sort of organic process … because they wanted to have a fuller sound and they wanted to be competitive on the radio…”

“This brother duet thing existed before bluegrass,” Weisberger continues, “and then it became part of bluegrass. Such that modern folks like Michael Daves and Chris Thile … are doing a lot of the original-style singing, with just two instruments. It says something about the vitality and the attractiveness of that style.”

Weisberger notes that Dailey & Vincent recorded Gillian Welch’s “By the Mark” with just their voices, a guitar, and a mandolin. There are many other similar examples in country, old-time, and other folk formats, but the style is still beloved – and common, thankfully! – in bluegrass today.

Brothers in Tone and Timing

For many, a brother duet has to do with the spine-tingling effect of very tight harmonies, in which every note matches up in every way. Laurie Lewis, who has taught harmony singing extensively and is known for her many duet recordings and performances, talks about it this way.

“It’s easy for brother duets or sisters to blend, because they grew up pronouncing all their words the same way, because they’re from the same place and the same family,” Lewis explains. “So, they’ve got a big leg up that way.

“The shape of a vowel is the most important thing to get right when you’re trying to blend with somebody. And consonants, you know, when you start or end the note. It’s placement, as well – where you place the tone: is it forward in your face? Is it back in your throat, or somewhere in between?”

Members of family bands and sibling duets often have the same vocal timbre – “high and lonesome,” in some cases, or deeper and more mellow in others. But, Lewis said, the brother effect can work even with singers whose voices have different qualities.

“Take Carter and Ralph Stanley, who sang so beautifully together and had really different voices. Carter’s was smooth,” she points out, while Ralph always had that rougher mountain quality.

Insights From Singing Brothers

Eric Gibson remembers when he and his brother Leigh first got the harmony buzz as teenagers. “We were working in the calf barn and I’d been listening to Jim & Jesse sing ‘Are You Missing Me?’ … I started singing it, and Leigh was maybe 10 or 15 feet away from me, when he hits the tenor. And I looked at him, and I just felt it, like, ‘What did we just do?’”

The Gibson Brothers have won national awards for vocal recordings, for songwriting, and for gospel albums. They both love using a horse racing analogy to achieve the brother duet sound. Leigh notes that in many duets and other harmony forms, the lead singer is out front, in volume and style. In contrast, Eric quotes Tim Austin as saying, “Your brother duet is like two racehorses. There’s not a lead horse out there with the harmony back here. They’re both fighting for position.”

Like horse racing, it takes discipline, and keeping the harmonies tight. “You have to stay on the straight and narrow.” The tenor singer has to follow the lead singer, and neither can add too much individual style.

Leigh adds, “You have to give some of yourself. If I wanted to throw our vocal thing into chaos, I’d start singing for myself rather than for the two of us.”

“It’s about really listening and even watching your duet partner,” he says, “how they’re shaping words, how they’re closing off a vocal sound, if it’s happening quickly or it’s a slow close off of that vowel sound.

“Listen and pay attention. I think that’s the best advice I could give anybody.”

Brothers by Birth

For a beautiful collection of brother duets drawn from some of the best and least-known brothers, visit the Gibsons Brothers’ 2015 album, Brotherhood. The liner notes are an engaging mini-history of brother harmonies.

Here are just a few of the other brothers who set the stage for the duets we hear today – and popularized or debuted many of the songs we still sing and love.

The Monroe Brothers

Let’s start with the Monroe Brothers. Bill, the father of bluegrass, began performing with his brothers Birch and Charlie (the uncles of bluegrass?) in the 1920s. Birch left the group when the other two accepted an offer to host their own radio show. The very popular partnership of Charlie on guitar and Bill on mandolin only lasted four years, because they both wanted to be the boss. Charlie continued assembling bands with musicians like Lester Flatt, Ira Louvin, and Curly Seckler. As for Bill, he launched a new genre of music that bears the name of his home state and his band, the Blue Grass Boys.

The Delmore Brothers

Alton and Rabon, the Delmore Brothers, grew up in a tenant farming family in Alabama. Grounded in church music, the Delmores distinguished themselves with their versatile songwriting, leading to membership in the Grand Ole Opry in 1933, extensive touring with Arthur Fiddlin’ Smith, and later with Grandpa Jones and Merle Travis. They are acknowledged as pioneers across country, bluegrass, and rockabilly circles. Songs like “Blues, Stay Away From Me” and “Gonna Lay Down My Old Guitar” remain standard bluegrass fare. Alton’s autobiography, Truth is Stranger Than Publicity, is a hoot and a half.

Blue Sky Boys

Bill and Earl Bolick first appeared on radio in 1935, when still in their early 20s. They later chose the name the Blue Sky Boys after Western North Carolina, Land of the Blue Skies. Steeped in gospel, their first recording, “Sunny Side of Life”/”Where the Soul Never Dies,” was such a big hit they earned the name “the New Hillbilly Kings.” They recorded 100 songs, both religious and secular, before joining the service. After the war they found they disliked newer music trends and they stopped playing entirely for a time when their label asked them to add electric guitar. The brothers played on and off, particularly at folk venues, until the late ’60s. Rounder Records pulled them out of retirement in 1975 for a bluegrass and folk tour.

The Lilly Brothers

Bea and Everett Lilly, the Lilly Brothers, performed on mandolin and guitar, influenced by the mountain music they heard in their home state of West Virginia. Their first local radio appearance was in 1938, and they later earned a spot on the venerated WWVA Jamboree. With Tex Logan and Don Stover – a configuration that would last 18 years – they moved to Boston, where they were welcomed in the folk scene. They are credited with bringing bluegrass to the Northeast, influencing musicians like Peter Rowan and Bill Keith. In Country Music: The Rough Guide, author Kurt Wolff quoted Bluegrass Hall of Fame inductee Joe Val as saying, “Those guys hit on like a bombshell. Nobody’d ever heard anything like that before.”

The Louvin Brothers

For many, the Louvin Brothers set the standard for brother duets. They began their duet career in the 1940s, continuing until 1963, when Charlie broke off from Ira for a solo career. Their harmonies were stunning, influenced by the shape note singing they grew up with, and their prolific writing and recordings left us with so many of the songs commonly heard in today’s bluegrass world. Their old-time religion permeated their work, as well as the life of the tormented Ira, who professed devotion while battling his demons. Emmylou Harris said, “There was something scary and washed in the blood about the sound of the Louvin Brothers.” The cover of their album Satan is Real is an apt visual representation of that thought. It is also the name of Charlie’s autobiography. Another great source is the Cocaine & Rhinestones episode on the Louvins.

Jim & Jesse

Jim & Jesse McReynolds from Colfax, Virginia are lauded as much for Jesse’s mandolin style as for their duet singing. Many of bluegrass’s most accomplished musicians passed through their band, the Virginia Boys, including Vassar Clements, Allen Shelton, Vic Jordon, Carl Jackson, and Glen Duncan. Their versions of songs like “Are You Missing Me” are mainstays of bluegrass jams, while they ventured into the folk rock world with “Paradise.” Jesse would later host a tribute to Jerry Garcia and Robert Hunter, too. Jim died in 2002 at age 75, ending what Wikipedia calls their 55 years performing together “the longest active professional brother duet in country music history.”

The Everly Brothers

Contemporary musicians from Graham Nash to Paul Simon have cited Don and Phil Everly’s duets as inspirational. Their harmonies were intricate, tight, and gorgeous. Coming from a country music background, they became hit pop stars, with “Bye Bye Love” in 1957. While many of their most popular songs were written by Felice and Boudleaux Bryant, the brothers were also prolific songwriters. They have been widely recognized by the music industry, from membership in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame to a #33 ranking in Rolling Stone’s list of 100 greatest artists of all time. For an excellent review of their often tumultuous careers and relationships, pick up Blood Harmony: The Everly Brothers Story by Barry Mazor.

Sisters, Mothers and Daughters

Family bands featuring female singers have been popular for decades, even before the Carter Family blasted from radio stations in the 1930s. But sister duets have been less prominent than their brotherly counterparts. We can speculate that’s because, historically, women were less likely to venture out on their own, and because they were less welcome at the front and center of bluegrass and country.

But when these women stepped up, they truly shined.

The Whites

Sisters Sharon and Cheryl performed for decades with their father, Buck White, as the Whites. But it is their duet singing that ranks with the tightest and tingliest of any brother duo. Buck, a mandolinist and piano player, encouraged his daughters to take up music. The three recorded extensively beginning in 1972 and recorded “Keep on the Sunny Side” for the Grammy Award-winning O Brother, Where Art Thou? soundtrack. After Buck’s death in 2025, Sharon and Cheryl continue to perform, sometimes with Rosie, another sister, adding a high harmony. They have received highest honors in both the country and bluegrass fields, with more than 40 years as members of the Grand Ole Opry.

Kate & Anna McGarrigle

Kate and Anna McGarrigle were acclaimed Canadian folk singers and songwriters. Often passing the melody back and forth, it could be difficult to tell when one voice ended and the other began. Their harmonies were delicious. Linda Ronstadt had a big hit with the McGarrigles’ song “Heart Like a Wheel,” and Maria Muldaur, Emmylou Harris, and Judy Collins also covered their songs. Kate died in 2010.

The Judds

This mother/daughter duo certainly had the blood-harmony duet thing going big time with perfectly executed, soaring vocals. In a Cinderella-like story line, Naomi and her daughter Wynonna went from living on welfare to auditioning (in terror, as they described it) before a room full of recording executives – who signed them immediately. Within two years of the 1983 audition, they recorded the first of eight consecutive number one singles and received their first of five Grammys. Their family story is both fractious and inspiring.

More Essential Duets

Nowadays, it often seems the most common examples of high quality duet singing come from non-siblings, from chosen family, from lifelong musical partners. Turns out “blood harmony” is possible without the biological ties. (But of course it is.) Some of the best examples of the form are singers unrelated to each other.

Hazel Dickens & Alice Gerrard

Hazel Dickens and Alice Gerrard presented a side of duet singing that was at once sweet and gutsy. Although from very different geographic and social backgrounds, the pair came together through the Baltimore folk community in the 1970s. They sang with intense sincerity, performing older and traditional tunes and presenting Dickens’ heart-rending (and sometimes snarky) originals to the world. They were some of the first women to front a bluegrass act and are widely acknowledged as inspiring groundbreakers.

Ricky Skaggs & Tony Rice

In 1980, Ricky Skaggs and Tony Rice released what has become an iconic duet recording, Skaggs & Rice. Its content draws on traditional and pre-bluegrass tunes recorded by earlier brother duets. In fact, Weisberger points out, the album cover illustration, featuring the two men in uncomfortable-looking suits, is modeled after a Lilly Brothers photo. Skaggs and Rice taught us how two voices with starkly different qualities could blend, with sibling-like effect.

Ricky Skaggs & Keith Whitley

Skaggs and his wife, Sharon White, both sing in a high range, blending beautifully and adding intensity to everything they sing. And with his piercing tenor, Skaggs has the ability to create a brother sound with just about anyone. His partnership with Keith Whitley was equally natural, as they started singing together as teenagers in Kentucky. They began touring with the Stanley Brothers when they were both 16. In essence, they grew up together, as did their vocal blend.

Laurie Lewis & Tom Rozum

Laurie Lewis is another who can turn any duet into sibling-style harmonies. She and Tom Rozum have sung together for decades. Lewis said that in addition to working hard on their timing and pronunciation (the word “yours” was once problematic), they have the advantage of remarkably similar vocal ranges for a male and female. When they are both “in the head voice, you can really hear the tension in our voices,” an exciting aspect of their duets, she said.

Laurie Lewis & Kathie Kallick

Since the earliest configuration of Good Ol’ Persons, Lewis and Kathy Kallick have sung together, including producing two duet albums. Lewis said, “We have really different timbres to our voices. But we sometimes get confused as to who was singing which part on our old recordings. ‘Wait, is that me or is that Kathy?’” Lewis’ duet album, And Laurie Lewis, showcases her skill in joining voices with so many of her old friends.

The Johnson Mountain Boys’ Dudley Connell and David McLaughlin

Eric Gibson remembered terrific harmony singing by Dudley Connell and David McLaughlin in the Johnson Mountain Boys days. That revered group won the very first IBMA Award for Album of the Year (for At the Old Schoolhouse) and were inducted into the Bluegrass Music Hall of Fame in 2020. And since his days in the Johnson Mountain Boys, Connell has shown he, too, raises any duo to the level of glorious sibling sounds. Some examples are with bandmate Lou Reid in the Seldom Scene and his two duet albums with Don Rigsby.

Emmylou Harris & … Almost Everyone

The Gibsons both mentioned Emmylou Harris’ stunning ability to create tension and beauty in sibling duet style with so many. Examples range from her earliest recordings with Gram Parsons through all her singing partners in her band, including Ricky Skaggs and Rodney Crowell, and when she introduced a young country audience to the material of the Louvin Brothers on recordings such as “If I Could Only Win Your Love,” “When I Stop Dreaming,” and “Every Time You Leave.” Her 1990 duet album pairs her with male singers. In 1999, after the success of the Trio albums with Dolly Parton and Linda Ronstadt, she and Ronstadt recorded Western Wall: The Tucson Sessions, showing off the perfection of two beautiful singers who love to sing together.

Dailey & Vincent

Jamie Dailey and Darrin Vincent both grew up performing in family bands. Jamie started singing with his family at age 3, and by age 12 had mastered bass and banjo. For nine years, he sang lead vocals with Doyle Lawson & Quicksilver, a band noted for their excellent voices and superb harmonies.

An article in Entertainment News said the Vincent children “were practically raised on harmony” from their youngest days in the Sally Mountain Show. For nine years, Vincent sang the baritone parts with Ricky Skaggs’ Kentucky Thunder. The two men’s early training, the discipline gained from playing with exceptional band leaders, plus their perfect-for-bluegrass voices created a glorious blend of heartfelt harmony and musical excellence.

Their first album, released in 2008, was met with a flurry of enthusiasm. It earned the duo six IBMA Awards – including Album of the Year – plus two other nominations that year. They have continued to receive dozens of awards from bluegrass, country, and gospel organizations, as well as three Grammy nominations as a duo and two wins between them during their time with other acts. Their 10th album, A Beautiful Life, was released earlier this year.

Explore more of our Artist of the Month content on Dailey & Vincent here. Enjoy even more bluegrass duos here and country duos here.

Lead Image: The Louvin Brothers from Pictorial Press.

Basic Folk: Joe K. Walsh

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Joe K. Walsh grew up in Duluth, Minnesota, and became enthralled with the mandolin (his primary focus, currently) after hearing the first David Grisman Quintet record. His dad got the young Joe his own mando. He ended up getting very serious about the instrument and found himself studying at Berklee College of Music in Boston (where he is now on faculty in the string department). Joe, in fact, was the first mandolin student at Berklee in a town that is now flooded with amazing mandolin players. His already strong sense of community and collaboration led him to becoming a main player in the Boston scene with his string band Joy Kills Sorrow, and with the Gibson Brothers. He now resides in Portland, Maine, and plays solo as well as with Mr. Sun, a group led by fiddler Darol Anger.

LISTEN: APPLE • SPOTIFY • AMAZON • MP3

In our Basic Folk conversation, we talk about taking over at Berklee after the death of professor John McGann, a beloved trad player who recorded with David Grisman, Mark O’Connor, Tim O’Brien, and the Boston Pops, among others. Joe addresses the question of whether bringing folk music into a college setting is “academizing” it or perhaps “folking” music academia. He also gets into hot button issues like improv, simplicity, and restraint. And, of course, he finally reveals his true feelings about the “other” Joe Walsh. Joe’s new instrumental album, Trust and Love, is a peaceful listen in these wild times. I’m happy to know Joe and have already benefited from his friendship! He and his wife gave my family a ton of baby hand-me-downs that have proved so useful. Everyone has a friend in Joe. K Walsh.

Read our feature interview with Joe K. Walsh on his latest album, Trust and Love, here.

Photo Credit: Natalie Conn

Artist of the Month: Tony Trischka

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

(Editor’s Note: Find our Essential Tony Trischka Playlist below.)

Banjoist Tony Trischka is a brilliant creator, an entertainer, and educator who makes his own time. He’s always on the run, trying new things and yet also always ready to stop and have a friendly chat and a catch up. His musical life includes teaching, performing, and recording as well as studying music history. And, at a very young 75, he’s always up for an impromptu jam.

In 1976, when he was 28, Oak Publications published his Melodic Banjo, an instruction book featuring his transcription tablatures of pieces by and introductions to the top players of this new style of bluegrass banjo in which he was already recognized as a virtuoso. The book became a modern bluegrass banjo classic and was later published in new editions by Hal Leonard.

When Rounder reissued Tony’s first two albums as Tony Trischka the Early Years, Berklee’s Matt Glaser wrote:

Rarely, perhaps three or four times a century, some music will be created that is a pure explosive expression of life energy and uncontaminated joy. The music on this CD is, in my humble opinion, exactly that. … I put Tony’s early music in the same category as the best of Charles Mingus, Cecil Taylor, Scotty Stoneman, and Wagner, mad and magnificent. … It’s some of the most unjustly neglected of all popular music masterpieces.

Tony’s passion about bluegrass banjo history came to the fore in 1988 when he co-edited “the most comprehensive banjo book ever written,” Masters of the 5-String Banjo, with Pete Wernick, his partner in the early ‘70s band Country Cooking.

There’s not enough room here to write about Tony’s full career, but it’s important to know that in addition to performing on the banjo doing everything from straight-ahead bluegrass to rock, avant garde, and theater, he’s also a band leader, producer, teacher and historian. A Grammy nominee and winner of the IBMA’s 2007 Banjo Player of the Year award, he now teaches an online banjo course for ArtistWorks, and continues to appreciate the pleasures and challenges of jamming – the subject of his latest album, Earl Jam, which was released June 7 on Down The Road Records.

I met Tony in 1986 in New York where I was giving a lecture to promote my new book, Bluegrass: A History. We got together afterward to explore our shared interest in bluegrass banjo. Since then, we’ve worked together on several projects, the latest being Earl Jam.

In November 1990, we reconnected at the Tennessee Banjo Institute. He took me to hear Institute faculty member Carroll Best, a North Carolinian who’d been playing melodic banjo since the ’50s. We ended up together at Best’s campsite. In 1992, Banjo Newsletter published our interview of him along with Tony’s transcription of his work.

Trischka’s 1993 album, World Turning, reflected his eclectic experiences in taking the banjo to the world. Bob Carlin called it “his bid to move the instrument back into the mainstream.” Beginning with an African tune, he explored the banjo in a variety of genres – minstrel, classical, old-time, ragtime, new acoustic, and rock, along with his own brand of bluegrass.

In 2001, Tony and I reconnected at Banjo Camp North in Massachusetts. In addition to its concerts and workshops featuring big-name instructors like Tony, Bill Keith, Pete Wernick, Tony Ellis, and Bill Evans, there was free time for informal music-making. Tony and I spent a pleasant evening jamming together.

For his 2007 album, Double Banjo Bluegrass Spectacular, Trischka recorded duets with 10 banjo pickers, with backing by top-flight bluegrass instrumentalists. These recordings have taken on new meaning now that some of his musical partners on this award-winning production – Earl Scruggs, Kenny Ingram, Bill Emerson, and Tony Rice – are no longer with us. The album introduced a generation of young musicians, showing the remarkable depth of Tony’s musical connections.

Tony’s brand new Down The Road album, Earl Jam: A Tribute to Earl Scruggs, reflects his longstanding interest in bluegrass banjo’s late founder. The album began during the pandemic, when Banjo Newsletter columnist, Bob Piekiel, author of “Earl’s Way” and a Scruggs family friend, sent Tony a thumb drive containing two hundred songs and tunes recorded at jams with Earl Scruggs and John Hartford during the ’80s and ’90s.

Tony and Piekiel had been working on the “tabs” – tablatures – for a new Scruggs banjo book. Since the early 1970s, bluegrass banjo tabs have been key musical manuscripts. None are more important than those of Scruggs, whose iconic statements – the ones he recorded – were published by Scruggs himself in tabular form in 1968. Many banjo pickers learned “Foggy Mountain Breakdown” and other familiar favorites from Scruggs’ tabs.

Like any written music, tablatures are scores meant to describe how music is created on an instrument, while simultaneously prescribing how it is to be reproduced. Tony made tabs of Earl’s jam breaks so that he could recreate them. Jamming with Hartford, Scruggs played familiar pieces he’d never before recorded or performed in public. On that thumb drive, Tony found Scruggs’ impromptu banjo statements as interesting and entertaining as the old familiar recorded and transcribed ones from his commercial appearances.

Change and innovation are part of the ambiance at jam sessions. Playing an old tune or song in a new way is a sure route to pleasant interaction in these friendly musical conversations. Here, ideas are expressed, tested, embraced. Participants play for their own delectation and to pique the interests of the other jammers.

It’s not easy for those of us who enjoy hearing commercially produced Nashville music to know what goes on informally and privately in that town’s local music scenes. Beyond the bars, stages, and studios, away from the producers, who jams with whom? In 1998 when Tony interviewed the late Bobby Thompson, melodic banjo pioneer and Nashville studio A-lister, he got Bobby’s answer to that question:

Scruggs, he’s real nice. Me and him would get together and play a lot. Lately I do him and John Hartford and bunch of them come over here a lot.

In his notes to Earl’s 1972 album, I Saw the Light with Some Help from My Friends (Columbia KC 31354), Bill Williams wrote about star-packed jams at the Scruggs home, calling it “a gathering place, a watershed of talent, a place to be oneself,” adding that “while the industry has known many outstanding jam sessions, there are none quite like these.” By that time, jams had been going on at the Scruggs house for a long time.

A number of the old Flatt & Scruggs songbooks published snapshots from ’60s jam sessions at the Scruggs home. And just as some people took snapshots at such sessions, others made recordings. John Hartford had recorded his jams with Earl and given Piekiel a copy because he worried that if his house burned down all those jam recordings would be lost.

Nashville pros like Thompson and Hartford – whose success as a singer-songwriter (“Gentle On my Mind”) underwrote a unique career – would, as Thompson said, “get together and play a lot” with Scruggs. Hartford, a Scruggs fan from an early age, played the fiddle while listening with pleasure to Scruggs’ banjo statements, and began bringing a tape recorder along.

Earl and John had played what they knew, taking pleasure in attacking old favorites in new ways. After learning and transcribing Earl’s banjo jam breaks, Tony put together a band to showcase them in a show at in the New York club Joe’s Pub. What people heard was first-class bluegrass musicians along with Tony’s musical recreation of Scruggs performing an eclectic repertoire – pre-war and post-war country classics, traditional tunes, rock, bluegrass, folk and more.

On Earl Jam, which grew out of Tony’s showcase band, we hear leading contemporary artists, including Sam Bush, Michael Cleveland, Dudley Connell, Michael Daves, Jerry Douglas, Sierra Ferrell, Béla Fleck, The Gibson Brothers, Vince Gill, Brittany Haas, Del McCoury, Bruce Molsky, Billy Strings, and Molly Tuttle, in new musical conversations with Tony Trischka providing the “banjer” voice of Earl Scruggs.

Here, today’s artists each perform with their own contemporary voice while Tony, consummate and experienced stage actor that he is, takes center stage in the role of Scruggs-at-a-jam. He’s a musical equivalent of actor Hal Holbrook, who brought the voice of a famous American author to millions in his one-man show “Mark Twain Tonight.”

A good example of the music on Earl Jam is “Brown’s Ferry Blues,” the album’s first single. It opens with a solo guitar break by Billy Strings during which rhythm instruments: mandolin (Sam Bush) and bass (Mark Schatz) come up behind. Then Trischka introduces one of Earl’s jam breaks, after which Strings sings the first of six verses.

After each verse, we hear an instrumental solo. First comes Michael Cleveland, who throws in some licks associated with Foggy Mountain Boys fiddler Benny Martin. Next is Bush playing his usual great, hot stuff.

After verse 3, Tony plays not one but two more Scruggs jam breaks, each quite different from the other. After verse 4, producer and banjoist Béla Fleck contributes a statement in his unique style. Following the next verse there’s a blazing guitar break from Strings, who then sings a newly composed verse that names everyone at this live session, after which the track closes with all five instruments going full-bore as if at a jam – instruments like voices at a cocktail party.

Tony’s newfound conversations demonstrate Earl’s economy and genius, and his ability to inject feeling – humor, soul, hot, cool – in unexpected places. Scruggs’ musical vision is an education and a pleasure. We’re grateful to Tony for capturing it, preserving and showcasing it.

This truly is a unique album. Each track combines the contexts of bluegrass and theater. We hear bluegrass and old-time music’s standard verses and instrumental breaks. They are mixed so that we can visualize each musician stepping up to the mic to sing or pick. And then the curtains open and Trischka appears spotlighted in a cameo closeup delivering lines – breaks – that Earl spoke at the end of the century, when he was in his 70s.

It’s ironic that tabs have crystallized an aural model of Earl Scruggs’s banjo playing based largely on his ’40s and ’50s work with Monroe and Flatt. That music became the model for classic bluegrass. It still sounds great today. But by the ’60s, Earl had moved on. As Tommy Goldsmith (Earl Scruggs, p. 120-123) points out, an informal backstage jam in New York with saxophone virtuoso King Curtis convinced him that he could take his banjo into other genres like rock.

As soon as he and Flatt parted ways in 1969, Earl joined his sons to form the Earl Scruggs Revue. In the following decades he played with them as well as a variety of folk, rock, and pop acts, fitting his banjo into many new contexts. By the times of his jams with Hartford, foremost in Scruggs’ mind were the then-recent years of touring with the Revue and trying new stuff.

In 1983, L.A. producer (Byrds, Flying Burrito Bros.) Jim Dickson told me why he came to like bluegrass: “It was part formal and part improvisational breaks, the same kind of structure jazz had.” (Bluegrass: A History, p. 190) Tony’s cameos highlight the improvisational genius that kept Earl’s music fresh and inspired a generation.

On Earl Jam, Trischka explores Scruggs’s genius in various ways. Several individual song arrangements have modulations (as in “Dooley” and “Casey Jones”) that show how Earl was able to recast his melodic ideas in different keys and tunings. Tracks like “Liza Jane,” “Lady Madonna,” and “Brown’s Ferry Blues” close by moving beyond solo breaks into riff trade-offs to portray the playful conversation that is the essence of jamming.

Tony’s sense of history is reflected in his repertoire choices – reflecting rich heritage and continuing experimentation. Like a painter he has blended, collaged, borrowed, and adapted widely from past art. The result is a series of vignettes building on the shared creativity of today’s most gifted singers and players while also embracing Earl’s many paths.

I visualize these tracks as tangible works of art like we might see in a museum or gallery – from antique quilts to abstract modernist paintings. BGS’s Artist of the Month, Tony Trischka, has created a veritable aural exhibition.

Neil V. Rosenberg is an author, scholar, historian, banjo player, Bluegrass Music Hall of Fame inductee, and co-chair of the IBMA Foundation’s Arnold Shultz Fund. He also authored the album liner notes for Earl Jam. Check out Neil’s regular BGS column, Bluegrass Memoirs, here.

Photo Credit: Greg Heisler

LISTEN: The Gibson Brothers, “One Minute of You”

Posted on by Editor

Artist: The Gibson Brothers
Hometown: Ellenburg Depot, New York
Song: “One Minute of You”
Album: Darkest Hour
Release Date: January 27, 2023

In Their Words: “I’m the proud father of three kids — Jack, Annie and Joey. They are everything to me. As involved in a family as a dad can be, I guess he can still be surprised by the ones he’s closest to. My daughter Annie is a marvel to me. When she was a little girl, she was one of the shyest kids I’ve ever seen. I never expected her to become so gregarious. And to watch her grow into the active and involved young woman she’s become is such a gift. So here’s my song for Annie Gray. We’ll be playing ‘One Minute of You’ in each of our upcoming shows. It’s quickly become one of my all time favorite songs to sing.” — Leigh Gibson, The Gibson Brothers

Photo Credit: Allen Clark

WATCH: The Gibson Brothers, “Sweet Lucinda”

Posted on by Editor

Artist: The Gibson Brothers
Hometown: Ellenburg Depot, New York
Song: “Sweet Lucinda”
Album: Mockingbird
Label: Easy Eye Sound

In Their Words: “We wrote ‘Sweet Lucinda’ with Dan Auerbach and Joe Allen. Before cutting it, I knew we had a song that lent itself to harmony, which it does, but then the band got a hold of it in the studio. What a GROOVE! I remember the guys being pumped after we got the take, lots of smiling and laughing. Here we’re recording with all these legends who have cut countless songs, and they’re excited by what we’ve all just done. I think of that every time I hear this song.” — Eric Gibson, The Gibson Brothers

Photo credit: Alysse Gafkjen

BGS Preview: MerleFest 2019

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When it comes to roots music, the MerleFest 2019 lineup is tough to beat. From bluegrass heroes to country legends, along with a number of perennial favorites like the Avett Brothers, this year’s four-day event promises to be one for the record books. Where to begin? Check out the BGS daily preview below.

Editor’s Note: MerleFest 2019 will take place April 25-28 in Wilkesboro, North Carolina. The Bluegrass Situation is proud to present the Late Night Jam on Saturday, April 27. Get tickets.

THURSDAY, APRIL 25

Headliner: Wynonna

No one else on earth has a voice like Wynonna. Of course she got her start in the Judds, which brought an acoustic flavor back to mainstream country music in the 1980s. She’s also frequently cited Hazel Dickens and Alice Gerrard as among her earliest musical influences. You’ll surely hear the hits, yet a new record deal with Anti- means that more music is on the way.

Don’t miss: Junior Brown can wow a crowd with his “guit-steel” double neck guitar, not to mention wry tunes like “My Wife Thinks You’re Dead.” Dailey & Vincent know a thing or two about quick wit, with their fast-talking banter tying together a repertoire of bluegrass, country, and gospel. Accomplished songwriter Radney Foster issued a new album and a book – both titled For You to See the Stars – in 2017. North Carolina’s own bluegrass combo Chatham County Line kicks off the day, likely with a few familiar tunes from their new album, Sharing the Covers.

FRIDAY, APRIL 26

Headliner: Tyler Childers

With the album Purgatory, Tyler Childers captivated fans who demand authenticity from their favorite artists. The acclaimed project falls in that sweet spot where Americana, bluegrass and country music all merge gracefully. Yet the sonic textures of “Universal Sound” show that he’s not stuck in the past. In a crowded field of newcomers, Childers’ distinctive singing voice and incisive writing set him apart.

Don’t miss: If you’re into guys who write quality songs, then you’re in luck. Leading up to Childers’ set, fans can dig into the likes of Amos Lee, The Milk Carton Kids, The Black Lillies, American Aquarium, and Steve Poltz. If bluegrass is more your style, check out Mile Twelve and Junior Sisk & Ramblers Choice in the early afternoon. Before that, make the most of your lunch break with country music from Michaela Anne and Elizabeth Cook. The Chris Austin Songwriting Competition is worth a stop, too.

SATURDAY, APRIL 27

Headliner: Brandi Carlile

Brandi Carlile catapulted into a new phase of her career by singing “The Joke” on the Grammys this year, not to mention winning three awards before the show. However, dedicated fans have followed her ascent since her auspicious 2005 debut album and its exceptional follow-up, The Story. She’s a master at engaging a crowd and a Saturday night headlining slot at MerleFest is yet another feather in her cap.

Don’t miss: Doc Watson himself would have approved of all the bluegrass artists on Saturday, such as Sam Bush Band, The Earls of Leicester, the Gibson Brothers, and Molly Tuttle. Keb’ Mo, Donna the Buffalo, and Webb Wilder converge upon Americana from different originas, yet they are united in their ability to electrify a crowd – even at a mostly acoustic festival. Folk fans should swing by The Brother Brothers, Carolina Blue, Driftwood, Ana Egge, Elephant Sessions, and The Waybacks. The Kruger Brothers always offer a pleasurable listening experience, too. Still not ready for the tent? Drop by the Late Night Jam, hosted by Chatham County Line and presented by yours truly, BGS. You won’t want to miss the set of special collaborations and true, on the spot, one of a kind jams with artists from all across the festival lineup.

SUNDAY, APRIL 28

Headliner: The Avett Brothers

The Avett Brothers elevate the MerleFest experience by bringing together a multitude of influences, from string bands to stadium rock. The charming track “Neopolitan Sky” dropped in February, employing a Tom Petty vibe and a surprisingly scaled-back production, as well as the sibling harmony that’s central to their sound. The North Carolina natives are proud fans of Doc Watson, so here’s hoping for “Shady Grove” to go along with fan faves like “Live and Die,” “Murder in the City,” and “I and Love and You.”

Don’t miss: The Del McCoury Band always brightens a Sunday afternoon with traditional bluegrass and any number of hollered requests. Steep Canyon Rangers will deliver a set inspired by the North Carolina songbook. After that, the ever-prolific Jim Lauderdale will take the stage with a set drawing from his country and bluegrass career. Early risers will be treated to morning music from Lindi Ortega, who hit a career high of creativity with her newest album, Liberty. Also of note: Jeff Little Trio, Andy May, Mark and Maggie O’Connor, Peter Rowan, Scythian, Larry Stephenson Band, Yarn, and all the good vibes that MerleFest has to offer.

Photo credit: Willa Stein
 

Eric Gibson’s Family Shares Autism Story in New Film

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In recognition of Autism Awareness Day, the Bluegrass Situation is drawing attention to The Madness & the Mandolin, a new documentary about Kelley Gibson. The son of The Gibson Brothers’ Eric Gibson and his wife, Corina, Kelley received an autism diagnosis as a boy. Since that time, the family has faced its shares of challenges and breakthroughs, which are documented in the film by producer/director Dr. Sean Ackerman. The filmmaker answered some questions by email about The Madness & The Mandolin.

What inspired you to pursue this project?

My mentor, Jim Hudziak, MD, is one of the most influential child psychiatrists in the country. His research is focused on how wellness strategies like music, exercise, and mindfulness can change the brain and improve mental health outcomes. He and I were brainstorming about how to get some of those ideas out into more mainstream clinical practice. Then Kelley was referred to Jim, and his story is just a perfect reminder that changing the way you live your life — through exercise, meditation, reading, and music — can sometimes be the most powerful treatment. With my film school background in mind, we thought a documentary would be the best way to get the message out.

What was your time frame for filming and editing from start to finish?

Almost exactly 3 years. I took one day off a week for 3 years to put together the film. During that time I would occasionally set aside longer blocks of time to travel to film Kelley. To be honest, it was hard to pick an “end” to the filming, because Kelley’s story is still evolving. I see the film as document of one era of Kelley’s life. In the film Kelley’s Dad, Eric Gibson, calls that time “the beginning of something great.” I hope that sentence stands the test of time. Kelley’s well-being really means a lot to me. I grew to really admire him and his family.

For those of us who have never met Kelley, how would you describe his personality?

First off, Kelley is a bit of comedian. When he’s doing well, he’s always looking for a punch line. That doesn’t come across in the film because what we were talking about is so serious. After that, I would say Kelley, at his best, is a natural optimist and a natural hard worker. Despite being dealt blow after blow, he always gets back up again. There’s no real quit in him. I would say a lot of that is due to his family. They won’t let him quit. His parents — Eric and Corina — they may be humble, but the love they have for their kids is a force of nature. The extent to which they have battled for Kelley is inspiring.

The concept of mindfulness is a significant part of this film. Has this film affected your definition of that term?

Great question! Mindfulness has really become watered down in the current culture. For me, when I say “mindfulness,” I’m really thinking of meditation but without strict entanglements to a specific religion. The reason I think of mindfulness as meditation is because the research that supports the treatment of anxiety with mindfulness is generally about practices that could be considered meditation or close to meditation.

What surprised you the most about this story, once you wrapped up the project?

I was honestly very surprised by the bluegrass community. I feel like after going to a few festivals and interviewing people I got to know the bluegrass community pretty well, whereas before the film I had little knowledge of that culture. I was really impressed by how caring, how welcoming, how warm that community is. There is a section of the film set aside to portray that sense of community I discovered. Life isn’t always easy… so it was damn nice to stumble across a big bunch of decent people just listening to music together.

What do you hope people will take away from watching the film?

That there is now an impressive amount of research supporting various wellness approaches to mental health, and we need to take these interventions seriously. For the public in general it is meant to inspire people to pursue some of the wellness strategies in the movie. It is also meant to change how we as providers treat patients, and we’ll be showing it at various conferences to try to get the message out. We just screened at the national meeting for the American Academy of Child and Adolescent Psychiatry and had a great response. I’d like for providers to know what type and what “dose” of wellness interventions help for specific diagnoses.

Dr. Sean Ackerman

Then we need to really take the time to make the right recommendations to patients and help them overcome the barriers that prevent them from making lifestyle changes. For example, everybody knows that exercise helps depression and meditation helps anxiety, but few people know what type and how much exercise and meditation is actually research-based. Also, these are hard things for patients and families to motivate themselves to do. How do we help them overcome these barriers? The movie doesn’t get into all of the details, but it’s meant to inspire and start the conversation.

What was the personal reward for you after investing so much time into the film?

The joy it has given me. I mostly spend my current days working in medicine, but there was a time when I spent my work days exclusively in film. During my former life in film, I worked on some complicated projects with famous actors… but it never really made me happy. Making The Madness & The Mandolin was a truly inspiring process, and much of that was due to the sincere decency of the Gibson family. The time I spent with them continues to shape my work as a doctor, and it’s infectious… it is changing the way other providers think too after they see the movie.

The Gibson Brothers Still Call It Music, Just Not Bluegrass

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Featuring the stunning blood harmonies of days gone by and an abiding love for classic sounds, The Gibson Brothers long ago earned the respect of the bluegrass establishment – even scoring back-to-back wins as the International Bluegrass Music Association’s (IBMA) Entertainer of the Year in 2012 and 2013. Even so, they’ve always cultivated an adventurous spirit.

Having grown up on a dairy farm in the far north of New York State, sandwiched between the Adirondack Mountains and Quebec’s provincial border, their musical appetite was as varied as their home was removed from the bluegrass heartland – from Flatt & Scruggs to Celtic traditionals, and from Tom Petty and The Eagles to French-Canadian fiddle tunes. Throughout their two-decade recording career, The Gibson Brothers have subtly mixed bluegrass reverence with a hint of rock refreshment, but with their new album, Mockingbird, Eric and Leigh Gibson have taken a bold creative departure – at least for the time being.

Mockingbird’s 11 tracks still feature their celebrated close harmonies, but also pull heavily from the countrified world of late 60s/early 70s rock, all masterminded by producers Dan Auerbach (of The Black Keys) and David Ferguson (Johnny Cash’s American Recordings series). Freewheeling and fun, but also rooted in the crisp refinement of their past success, the boisterous rural funk of tracks like “Sweet Lucinda” stands alongside breezy Laurel-Canyon rock in “Cool Drink of Water,” while “Travelin’ Day” explores a trad-country template and R.E.M.’s seminal 90s hit “Everybody Hurts” becomes a swaying example of country R&B.

“The impetus behind the music was that we had done bluegrass our whole career, and when we got talking about the next record, we really just decided we didn’t want to do the same old thing again,” he explains. “It’s not because we were ashamed of what we were doing. We love what we do. There was no intention of anything. This all really happened naturally.”

“I think people love a band where they found them,” banjo-playing lead singer Eric Gibson adds. “But it was so exciting that we didn’t have time to think about ‘Oh, is this gonna upset people who are used to what we’ve done in the past?’ We just dove into the process and had a ball.”

Speaking with The Bluegrass Situation by phone, The Gibson Brothers dug into the inspiration for Mockingbird – and the creative avalanche that followed.

The obvious question here is “What made you want to get away from bluegrass?” But I feel like being from upstate New York might have had something to do with it. Is your approach to bluegrass a little different?

Leigh: We started learning how to play bluegrass when we were 11 and 12, and the guy who taught lessons at our local store played five-string banjo and guitar, among other things. Our father just happened to have both of those instruments, but he didn’t have a banjo because he was into Celtic music. So the guy we took lessons from taught Eric out of the Earl Scruggs method book, and I think that’s what pointed us in the direction of bluegrass.

Eric: Yeah, and once we heard Flatt & Scruggs it really drew us in, but if we hadn’t gotten into the Scruggs handbook, we probably would have played something else.

So what was the idea behind Mockingbird? Do you think of it as a rock and roll album?

Eric: There are definitely elements of rock and roll, but I hear country in it, too. I don’t know where it neatly fits. I’ve heard some people call it an Americana record, but on top of it all I hear the brother harmony. I think it’s that, weaving through a variety of styles.

Leigh: We wanted to do something different, and originally we had some tunes that didn’t fit neatly into the box of a bluegrass band. But we didn’t know we were gonna make a whole album. We were just looking to record some tracks.

Eric: And we ended up not recording any of the songs we were thinking about. We just wrote a bunch of new ones! … When we went to Nashville and started working with Dan Auerbach and David Ferguson, they asked us, “Do you wanna make a country record?” And we said, “Let’s just write songs and see what they need.” They handled the producing chores and did a beautiful job, and came up with sounds that I know I couldn’t have come up with.

You reached out to Ferguson to produce Mockingbird first, and I know he also engineered your first Nashville bluegrass album, Another Night of Waiting. Why was he at the top of the list for this project?

Leigh: [Laughs] Because he’s fun.

Eric: He’s a character and once you meet him you don’t forget him. We’d see him here or there and he’s been doing all kinds of big things in the last 20 years. He’s the one who engineered all those late-career Johnny Cash albums with Rick Rubin. He’s worked with U2, and lately he’s been working with Sturgill Simpson and Tyler Childers. We’d see him and he’d say, “Why don’t you come record some music with ol’ Ferg?”

Leigh: And I’d say “I don’t think we can afford you, Ferg.” And he’d be like, “You’re right, you can’t.” [Laughs]

Eric: But we were riding around DelFest on a golf cart with him in 2017 and he brought it up again, and by fall we were feeling a little restless. We kept listening to records that he worked on in the van, and I think Leigh was the one who said “Maybe we should call Ferg.” I said, “Why do you think I’ve been playing all these albums over and over again!”

So then Ferguson suggests bringing in Dan Auerbach from The Black Keys. Was that a surprise?

Leigh: I was floored, to be honest. Our manager called me and said, “Well, Ferg’s first action as your producer is to bring on another producer, and it’s Dan Auerbach.” [Laughs] So I called Eric and I couldn’t believe it.

Eric: What was funny was Leigh said, “Is this something you’d be interested in?” And I was like, “Duh!” This is the kind of thing that falls out of the sky and you have to go for it.

I read that the whole album was written and recorded in just a few days. Is that unusual for you?

Eric: Yeah, we’ve never worked like that before. … Every day it would be Leigh and Dan and me, plus one other writer. We didn’t go in with any melodies. I had a couple of lines jotted down but we hardly used any of those. A lot of it just came out of conversations we were having at Dan’s studio kitchen table, like “Travelin’ Day.” Dan said, “You know, Ferg lost his stepdad a few days ago,” and we got to talking about that. Ferg said, “He really showed us how it’s done. He was brave at the end.” We said, “Our dad was the same way.”

It’s interesting that you started off with something so heavy, because the album doesn’t come across heavy at all.

Eric: It’s not. That first song is pretty heavy, but there’s a lot of love songs on there, and we hadn’t written a lot of love songs in the past.

Leigh: Dan and Ferg showed us how to love. [Laughs]

“Love the Land” seems like a reference back to you roots on the farm. Where did that come from?

Eric: That was written with Joe Allen.

Leigh: With that song, obviously Eric and I have a background of shared memories, so we’re probably thinking about the same thing as we’re writing it. But Joe’s from Oklahoma and Dan’s from Ohio, so they’re thinking about different things. I remember talking to Dan and he said, “Man, I need to get outside more. I miss it.” It’s kind of funny that it’s wherever your head is at the time. If we sat down with the same guys tomorrow, something totally different would come out.

Eric: Dan loved that we kept showing up early. I’d apologize and Dan would say, “No, no, make yourselves at home.” So we’d go back to that kitchen area and he has this beautiful vinyl collection. We’d put on different records and I think sometimes they would influence the direction of the day. Like, that one has a very Don Williams feel, and I think we were listening to Don Williams that morning.

Why did you pull Mockingbird out of that song as the album title?

Eric: Just because that kept jumping out of my head. Joe came up with the line, something like “Mockingbird, if you haven’t heard / Never been a sound so sweet.” I loved that, so I actually Googled “mockingbird.” [Laughs] It turns out they can sing a variety of songs. They don’t just sing the same thing every day, and I thought “Wow, that’s kind of what we’re doing here.”

I’m sure you’ve been asked a million times, but did the cover of R.E.M.’s “Everybody Hurts” come out of left field?

Eric: Totally out of left field.

Leigh: Just before the last day of tracking, Dan said, “Think of a song from the 80s or 90s that everybody knows but no one would think of you doing.” So Eric and I talked about it on the way back to the hotel and came up with something by a female artist, and we got to the studio the next day and Ferg is like, “So what song did you choose?” We told him and he’s like, “Oh, I hate that song.” Allen Parker, who is Dan’s in-house engineer, said “Hey, how about ‘Everybody Hurts’?” I had heard the song – you couldn’t miss it if you’re a person my age – but I never in a million years would have thought about doing it. Those guys went and charted it, and it had such a comfortable, funky feel, that we were compelled to learn it.

Do you think your fans saw this album coming?

Eric: No. I mean, it’s a hard question. If they’ve really been paying attention to us over the years, it shouldn’t come as a big surprise because we’ve recorded stuff by Tom Petty and The Band and The Rolling Stones and Mark Knopfler. We have a variety of tastes.

Leigh: I think there are certain fans who see you as one thing, and if you do something else it can be upsetting, but no one twisted our arm to do this. It’s absolutely what we wanted to do and we’re proud of it, but we didn’t do this to offend anybody. If somebody is offended, there’s nothing we can really do about that except say, “Look at our track record and all this other stuff we’ve done that you really love. Why not give this a chance?”

Photo by Alysse Gafkjen

Playing with Purpose: An Interview with Leigh Gibson

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The Gibson Brothers are one of the tried-and-true mainstays of the contemporary bluegrass scene, and it’s no wonder why: With masterful, Monroe-style instrumentation and suits to match, they’re the picture of a sharp-dressed, classic bluegrass band. But their background — in the world of traditional bluegrass music, anyway — could hardly be more unorthodox.

Eric and Leigh Gibson grew up on a dairy farm in Upstate New York just a couple miles from the Canadian border. Gritty, mid-’80s New York City was only a few hours South, but they felt like outsiders in their home state’s cultural capital. They were raised on their father’s regimen of classic country music and daily farm labor. Their farmhouse got Canadian public access channels instead of MTV — Gordon Lightfoot instead of Michael Jackson, with a healthy dose of French Canadian fiddle music thrown in. Turns out the Stanley Brothers and Lester Flatt’s stories of rural life made them feel right at home. They didn’t miss the mainstream stuff.

But when they traveled South, they felt like outsiders all over again. At some traditional bluegrass festivals — places where “drink” and “bank” make a tidy rhyme, and the stars and stripes may be the second-most common red, white, and blue flag — they represented a special subset of foreigners called “Yankees.” Even there, they quickly gained respect. A boatload of IBMA Awards soon added the exclamation point. Their bluegrass success is a testament to their farm-style hard work and that timeless synergy of two brothers singing close harmonies. Also — sorry to bury the lede here — they write really good original songs. That probably has something to do with it.

I planned my conversation with Leigh Gibson expecting to talk about traditional bluegrass. Based on their appearance and the festivals they play — and, yes, their reverence for old bluegrass music — they’ve been neatly pre-categorized as “traditional” bluegrass. But when I listened to their record I had to remind myself: The easy distinction between traditionalists and progressives is as convenient as it is misleading. Like the Steep Canyon Rangers or Balsam Range or, for that matter, the Del McCoury Band, the Gibson Brothers only look the part of rigid traditionalists. They write songs reminiscent of Robbie Robertson or Bruce Springsteen just as often as the Stanley Brothers. Sure, they have a banjo in the band, but the interesting part is what they’re doing to expand the vocabulary of their chosen form.

Being a bluegrass band doesn’t make them just a bluegrass band. The Gibson Brothers are a good reminder that some folks with mandolins and banjos should be considered, first, as a great band, regardless of genre. Then you can call them bluegrass.

Let’s talk about In the Ground. I’ve been jamming to this for the last few days. It’s a great record. This is the first album of original tunes since 2011, right?

Right. And it’s the first one that’s all original. Eric and I, early on, were covering Stanley Brothers and Bill Monroe, plus doing songs of the popular bands of the day, just trying to figure it out. As a really young picker — I don’t know if this is true for everybody — I didn’t have as much to say. I’d write a little bit, but it wasn’t the same thing it is today, where you feel like you have something to say and you can stand behind it after you say it.

So how did you make that process happen? How did you graduate from playing classic songs and learning to play other people’s licks to having your own sound and something to say?

As far as the sound goes, we were so far removed geographically from the center of things. Growing up in northern New York State, there wasn’t really a template. We didn’t come up in someone else’s band and then start our own band. I don’t want to call it peer pressure, because that’s not what it is — but we weren’t as affected by the question of what is bluegrass, what is the contemporary sound of bluegrass, because we weren’t picking with anybody who had any idea what that meant. We were mostly playing with French Canadians at fiddle contests who liked the banjo. We would go into Quebec into these jam sessions at someone’s house — some of these folks didn’t even speak English. It was a different sort of gateway into the music profession, for sure. But it was really cool sitting there singing old country songs, classic country from the ’50s and early ’60s. So we went North first before we went South.

I hadn’t thought of the geographic closeness of French Canada and the fiddle tradition there, but that makes a lot of sense.

We were exposed to Canadian television and radio because we grew up in such close proximity to the border. We were just two miles away. Behind our family farm, which started in 1860, there was nothing but woods and then the border. So we grew up watching Canadian television and we were exposed to a lot of Canadian artists — Gordon Lightfoot and others. And we might see some Opry stars on Canadian television, like Charlie Louvin or the Osborne Brothers, who had a bluegrass pedigree.

So this was the mid-’80s. What else was in the air at the time? Was it Michael Jackson and Cyndi Lauper? Were you exposed to that mainstream stuff, too?

Growing up like we did where we did, we didn’t have MTV. My wife is just a year-and-a-half younger than me and she grew up in downstate New York. She was totally influenced by MTV and that part of the culture. But not us. What I was hearing for rock ‘n’ roll was coming out of Montreal.

So for a lot of people your age — growing up on MTV — bluegrass might have felt exotic and old fashioned. But it sounds like it was closer to what you’d been exposed to as a kid, with the Canadian fiddle music, Canadian radio, and old country music.

Yeah, I didn’t feel so much like an oddball in bluegrass. At that point in time, if you were listening to country radio as we were, just when we were getting into the music — that’s when [Ricky] Skaggs was breaking out. All those influences from his bluegrass pedigree came into his country songs. It was a validation happening, in my mind, for what we were trying to do with these instruments — learning banjo and guitar and singing Flatt & Scruggs and Monroe. So I wasn’t missing the Cyndi Lauper stuff.

So even though you were in the same state as New York City, this cultural capitol of the world producing all these big modern stars, you felt closer to Canadian fiddle music and old country music. But then bluegrass was composed of mostly Southerners, so you were kind of both culturally inside and outside.

Yeah, that’s a good way to put it. At the time, I didn’t feel like we were outside. You have to remember, we were living on a dairy farm. My father worked that farm 365 days a year, so we didn’t travel much. We’d find bluegrass radio stations — it was back in the cassette days. We would record a Sunday night radio broadcast out of Ottawa. We didn’t get the station really well, but at night in the summertime you could get it. So we’d hit record and listen to those shows throughout the week on that cassette.

That reminds me of stories you hear old bluegrass musicians tell. Folks would gather around the family radio in the living room and listen to the Grand Ole Opry. Why do you think y’all were drawn to country and bluegrass radio?

Once you get up above Poughkeepsie, New York gets really country. We were six hours north of New York City. They’re country people up there. There are mining communities. I think it’s more closely related to Appalachia than people would think.

So the North/South divide is the wrong spectrum to think about. It’s more the urban/rural divide?

I think so. I was never apprehensive about going to the South, but every time I cross the George Washington Bridge, I still get a tightness in my chest, like, “Oh, boy! Here we go!”

[Laughs] Even as a native New Yorker.

New York is exciting if you’re not bringing a car, but I still feel that way. Like that is a different world.

Sure, but thinking of that North/South divide, I mean, if I took a friend from New York City to a rural North Carolina bluegrass festival with funnel cake and chewing tobacco and banjo music, they would be like, “Where the hell am I?”

True, true. And I sometimes forget because I’ve been to so many of those things. I do remember the first couple Southern Virginia festivals we played. You just couldn’t feel like you fit in, because — it was our first time being around Confederate flags flying at every campsite, and the only compliment you’d get is, “You guys are okay. For Yankees.”

Well, I guess that’s a really high compliment for some people!

[Laughs] Yeah, and they meant it! You know, the second or third time they’d see you they would come up and say, “Tell me true, now, you’re mama is from down here, right?”

That’s awesome. So, in other words, you passed the test. You weren’t dismissed for being Yankees because you got the music.

And when we first started, we were paying tribute to their music more than our own. Obviously we’d sing a little different, since we grew up talking around different people, learning how to speak and sing from different people. But we were singing Bill Monroe or Stanley Brothers or Jim & Jesse, so we didn’t introduce ourselves to them immediately. We didn’t know who we were at the time.

So, at that point, you started developing as a bluegrass band by hanging around bluegrass bands in the South? That’s how you developed your sound, too?

I think it was unavoidable that the rhythmic feel of, say, the Lonesome River Band or Nashville Bluegrass Band would creep into my guitar playing or Mike Barber’s bass playing. We listened to Sam Bush a lot. Of course, New Grass Revival was on country radio in the late ’80s. And Peter Rowan was a big one. Every one of those bands have great vocals, great songs, and can play. We were trying to figure it out like anybody would. Like when a rock band first hears the Beatles. They’re going to try and emulate that sound. So we did the same thing.

What are you listening for when you hear a great bluegrass band? Or, rather, what is it that makes a great bluegrass band great?

I guess the same could be said for any kind of music, what I’d listen for. It’s almost like you’re listening for purpose. There are people with great voices, but you still can’t stay engaged with what they’re singing about or what they’re saying. It doesn’t feel like it demands to be listened to. But look at Willie Nelson. He’s not the best singer in the world, but he makes you believe it. Del McCoury has that. There’s purpose there. You believe what they’re singing about.

Is it a question of authenticity?

Yeah, maybe. They’re authentic for sure. And the band doesn’t have to be full of the best pickers on each instrument, if it has that collective thing that makes you sit up and take notice.

Where do you think the Gibson Brothers’ sounds fits into the full picture of modern bluegrass?

I think we’re seen by most people as being traditional bluegrass. It has something to do with our configuration — we have mandolin, fiddle, guitar, banjo, and upright bass. That’s the instrumentation we’ve chosen, and the people we’re surrounded by, but I still don’t really approach it like a bluegrass band. It’s become more about us and our story. More about the catalogue of songs we’ve written and play at shows. I think those songs would still hold up if we had different instrumentation, because we believe in the songs so much.

So you’re saying that a bluegrass band is chasing after something authentic and honest, like any kind of band. They just happen to have fiddles and mandolins and banjos.

It’s true. Because those are the instruments we learned. What if my father had had a trumpet under the bed instead of a banjo that we could’ve learned on? It was a mix of timing and location that put us where we are today.

Why did a northern New York dairy farmer have a banjo?

He wanted to learn to play. He liked a lot of kinds of music — he had Mac Wiseman and Lester Flatt records. You know, that old stuff like, “’Tis Sweet to Be Remembered.” Classic stuff. He liked Celtic music a lot, too. At some point, the dairy farmer who was enjoying Celtic music and a little bit of country decided he was going to order a banjo from Montgomery Ward. So he did.

I noticed one of the songs on the new record, “Everywhere I Go,” was co-written with Eric’s son, Kelly, so it seems like he’s maybe following in your footsteps. Would you encourage your kids to become working musicians?

If it would make them happy, I wouldn’t discourage them. Let me put it that way. It would please me if I could make music with my children. But here’s the father in me — only if they approached it like a professional and worked hard, not just because they want to sleep in until noon. The way we grew up on the farm, it was hard work every day. They’re not learning that first hand, exactly — I mean, we’re not splitting wood to heat the house — but I think about how to show them what hard work can do for you. Hopefully they recognize that example in our career, that it’s hard work and it pays off.

I’m thinking of the title track, “In the Ground,” where you’re lamenting the loss of the family farm. That family farm seems like a big part of your story, going way back to your grandparents and great-grandparents, etc. Is that what you miss about that lifestyle, the ethic of hard work that came along with it?

For sure. The farm teaches you that hard work doesn’t guarantee success. You can’t control the weather. The music industry is like that. There are things you can’t control. But if you don’t do the work, you won’t have any success. That’s the best thing our dad gave us, a really strong work ethic …

When the farm was still there and my father was still working it, it was fresh in my mind. That life was still there to me. Then my father passed away, so that connection was frayed, and then you feel more and more disconnected from that life. Suddenly you start looking for it, and you’re a couple of decades removed from what was already a bygone era that we were living. Now I can’t find that connection. I don’t miss having to do it every day, 365 days a year, but I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Seems like that feeling really connects you to a tradition in bluegrass songs. You know, longing for the old cabin home, reminiscing about Uncle Pen — or a newer song like “Old Home Place” written in the ’70s. Mourning that connection to the land and to tradition that’s been lost.

Yeah, you think about Monroe writing “On My Way Back to the Old Home,” missing home when he was in Chicago living a different life. That’s kind of what I’m doing. If that farm in that same location still could’ve provided a living for the next generation, one of us probably would’ve taken it over. There’d be no Gibson Brothers. So it’s not a lifestyle I would’ve run away from, if my father hadn’t told us from an early age that it wasn’t going to happen.

Why wasn’t it possible anymore?

Back in the day, you could have three cows and consider yourself a dairy farmer, if you were selling a little bit of milk. You didn’t need much land. But in the ’80s and ’90s, the milk prices were falling as costs were going up. In order to stay in business, a farmer had to grow and grow, adding hundreds of cows. Then you’re deeper in with the bank and milk prices drop again, so what do you do? … When my father came along, he had come to the end of the line of what was productive and profitable. It’s nobody’s fault. It’s just the way it happened. Sorry, I didn’t mean for this to become a lesson in the dairy industry …

No, it seems like important background. It strikes me that you’re almost telling the quintessential story of the American South and the way it was defined by change in the middle of the 20th century — but you grew up on the Canadian border in the 1980s. That’s wild.

True, yeah. That’s probably true. I think we have a lot in common with Appalachia historically.

Thinking of that track, “In the Ground,” and the tradition in bluegrass music of longing for an earlier time, I can imagine some kid from New York City or California who doesn’t know about bluegrass hearing that nostalgia for a better, bygone American era and being reminded of hateful, exclusive political rhetoric that also talks about getting back to a golden era. How do you convince them that’s not what you’re talking about?

I feel like our music … yes, it’s about the good old days and, yes, it has some nostalgia, but it’s our nostalgia. Although it has some common ground with traditional bluegrass, we really do sing about us. But how would I convince some 22-year-old kid in New York City? That’s a good question.

So you’re telling an honest story that comes from your own life. Maybe that’s all we can ask of any artist.

Yeah, that’s what we’ve grown into. Being our age, in our mid 40s now, we’re looking back and realizing what we’ve lost. That comes later when you get older and have children. Earlier, when you asked about the acts we love in bluegrass, it was about feeling like their songs meant something to them, that they were being authentic. That’s what I hope we’re being. We’ve spent a long time becoming us. It’s all we really know how to do.

LISTEN: The Gibson Brothers, ‘In the Ground’

Posted on by Editor

Artist: The Gibson Brothers
Hometown: Ellenburg Depot, NY
Song: “In the Ground”
Album: In the Ground
Release Date: February 17, 2017
Label: Rounder Records

In Their Words: “As we travel around the country with the Gibson Brothers, I notice fewer and fewer small family farms — farms that not only raise a product for market, but also a family. Economic pressure has just been too great for many of these small farms to continue and the beautiful farm life Eric and I lived in our youth becomes more of a rarity as time slips by. I know that things change and the world moves on. I get that. But I don’t have to like it.

That’s where ‘In the Ground’ comes from. It’s really me mourning the loss of the world I grew up knowing and loving. As a child, I saw that world as common and forever. When I left the farm as a young man, I thought that it would always be there no matter where I went. And now I can’t find it.” — Leigh Gibson

Photo credit: Lisa Carbone