Artist:Eli West Hometown: Olympia, Washington Latest Album:Tapered Point of Stone
Which artist has influenced you the most … and how?
Probably Paul Brady, as a singer and guitar player. While I don’t play Irish folk music much, the tradition, while having lots of shapes and inflection, isn’t inherently showy. You don’t see an Irish folk musician put their foot up on a monitor to take a solo. I think communicating something interesting in an understated way is so satisfying…. Leaving room for the listener, not hitting you over the head with an idea. Tim O’Brien is an American version of that as well.
What other art forms — literature, film, dance, painting, etc — inform your music?
I’m a visual learner. Visual and spatial art, woodworking, painting, all have something to do with my musical decisions. I love understated chaos, like arranging things that seem to already be there. Goldsworthy is an obvious example of this, but there are many folks who do this in a variety of mediums. I tend to overthink, so anything that helps me escape my head to see things in a simpler way.
What rituals do you have, either in the studio or before a show?
Running, for my mental health. Also, getting to know a new town before a show. Also, eating. Big fan of eating.
Which elements of nature do you spend the most time with and how do those impact your work?
I grew up on salt water, sailing, and kayaking with my dad. Also skiing and backpacking in the mountains of the Northwest. I think the understory of a dense cedar grove is pretty inspiring, usually quiet while full of life.
Since food and music go so well together, what is your dream pairing of a meal and a musician?
Huh… I love seafood. There is a restaurant in Tel Aviv called the Old Man and the Sea. I would love to sit outside, eating fish, talking to someone like Django or Jim Hall about guitars. Since both those guys are gone, maybe drunk BBQ with Sting or Mark Knopfler would be fun (all those things borrowing from my high school self).
Artist:Miles Gannett Hometown: Baltimore, Maryland Song: “Thunder River, Tumbling Down” Album:Meridian Release Date: April 16, 2021
In Their Words: “I heard the melody and a few of the lyrics, including the lines ‘Thunder River, tumbling down; catch your babes before they drown’ in a dream, and I woke up and sang what I could remember into my phone. It kind of creeped me out, so it sat around for a couple years until I figured out where to go with the rest of the lyrics. It contains a lot of trippy apocalyptic imagery and I guess quasi-religious commentary. Musically, I was inspired by the vibe of some of my favorite late ’60s and early ’70s progressive bluegrass artists, especially Dillard & Clark, who combined bluegrass and psychedelic folk rock in a way that I think is really cool, and J.D. Crowe & the New South, who used drums and pedal steel on their Bluegrass Evolution album, which I love even if Tony Rice didn’t (ha ha). I was honored to have such great players on the record, who could help me achieve the sound I was searching for. Ron Stewart of the Seldom Scene played banjo on the track, which, along with Eric Selby’s drumming and Joe Martone’s bass, really propels the song and creates a solid foundation for Dave Hadley’s pedal steel and Sean P. Finn’s fiddle. I did my best to keep up on acoustic guitar!” — Miles Gannett
Tim Stafford could be renowned for any one of his many contributions to bluegrass music over his prolific career, his talents as a musician and writer having been showcased in so many of its important creations. He is perhaps most well-known as a founding member of Blue Highway, one of the most influential and decorated bands in bluegrass. Prior to that, he formed Dusty Miller in the late 1980s, and Alison Krauss hired him in 1990 as part of her band, Union Station, with whom he recorded the Grammy-winning album, Every Time You Say Goodbye.
Stafford is also an accomplished author. In 2010 with Caroline Wright, Stafford issued Still Inside: The Tony Rice Story, the authorized biography of the flatpicking icon and Bluegrass Music Hall of Fame member. As a songwriter, Tim has placed more than 250 cuts and was named IBMA’s Songwriter of the Year in 2014 and 2017. He notably co-wrote IBMA’s 2008 Song of the Year, Blue Highway’s “Through the Window of a Train,” with Steve Gulley. Tim and Steve were frequent collaborators and released a duo album in 2010 called Dogwood. Ten years later, they created another album of co-written material, but Gulley passed away suddenly from cancer soon after it was completed, making the title, Still Here, all the more meaningful.
BGS: How does it feel to release this record? With Steve’s unexpected passing I imagine it must be a more heavy feeling than a typical record release.
TS: Yeah, I’m really glad it’s finally out. Steve was really looking forward to this record coming out. We were both excited about the songs and it ended up being his last recording, which was hard on all of us. And now it’s part of his legacy. After Steve passed, I talked to the label about maybe coming up with a different title besides Still Here, but we decided it was a very appropriate title because his music is still here. He would have been proud of it. I know that for sure.
How long had you known Steve?
I didn’t know him when I was younger, although he was around and playing. He was mainly playing up at Renfro Valley in Kentucky and he didn’t travel much until he joined Doyle Lawson & Quicksilver which would have been in the late ‘90s or around 2000. I was playing a festival somewhere with Blue Highway and he came up to the record table and we started talking like we’d known each other forever because we knew a lot of the same people. We just hit it off. He was the one that first suggested we write and it was either the first or second time we got together we wrote four songs in one day. And all four of them got cut. I felt like at that point we had something special. We seemed to have a wavelength that we could touch off of each other. That’s really rare. You don’t get that with a lot of people.
The subject matter in the songs on this record seems very personal, and often about people you know. I would imagine that it’s sort of therapeutic, maybe in the same way that journaling might be, to write about personal things like that. Is that how you feel about it?
That’s a good way to put it and I did used to journal. Some of them, like “Back When It Was Easy,” are just about general topics that we know about. Whereas “Long Way Around the Mountain” and “She Threw Herself Away” are about things that actually happened that we chronicled about friends. And sometimes they are big stories that you just can’t stay away from. “She Comes Back to Me When We Sing” is a story we’d both seen on Facebook about this guy’s mother who was in advanced stages of Alzheimer’s and didn’t know anybody until she sang with her son. And when that happened, she remembered all the words and she could remember everything. We thought that was a really inspirational story and deserved to be a song.
You’ve been writing for so long that it seems like you’ve been able to build the skill of telling a story through song, rather than narrating a timeline to music.
Yes, that’s where it’s at. That’s where the craft comes in that you only develop by doing it. I really didn’t know how to write a song when I started. But you learn little things along the way through trial and error. It’s like anything but it’s really difficult to learn how to do something like write a song out of a book — although I have a whole collection of them here. I have lots of books about songwriting like Jimmy Webb’s Tunesmith and Sheila Davis’ The Craft of Lyric Writing which is really good. You can learn tips, but you’re not going to learn how to write from a book. So it’s a matter of doing it.
I don’t remember exactly where I heard it, but I think I remember Jimmy Webb talking about writing “Wichita Lineman” and him saying that it was fully fictitious. But that he felt like, as a songwriter, he should be able to write about people he didn’t know. That he should be able to understand people well enough to write a story that was convincing without it having to be true. I could be misremembering that, though.
You may not be. I think that there’s actually a book out about that song, “Wichita Lineman,” that I finished here last year and I believe you’re right and he’s right. I think that being able to tell a story about somebody you don’t know is important. There’s a song that I wrote really early on called “Midwestern Town” that Ronnie Bowman recorded. That song is totally fictional. I didn’t know anybody like the character in that song. But I’ve had a lot of people come up and say that they did know someone like that or that it could have been them and that song made a big difference to them. It was a comforting song. You’ve got to be able to get inside people’s heads and think the way that they would. You have to know what your character might do in any given scenario. I can’t remember all the times I’ve been co-writing and said, “What would this guy do?”
Have you written songs as long as you’ve been playing guitar? When did you started writing songs?
I guess I wrote all the way back when I first started playing guitar, but I wasn’t really serious about it. I had written some songs before I played with Alison in the early ‘90s and we actually recorded one of them, but it never came out which was my fault. She wanted to put an instrumental I’d written called “Canadian Bacon” on Every Time You Say Goodbye, but I talked her out of it. I told her we needed to record “Cluck Old Hen” because we were so psyched about Ron [Block] being in the band and his playing on that. And I don’t regret that though it probably would have meant more money.
You were in Union Station from 1990 to ‘92, right? That was a very cool lineup of that band. How did you feel about it at the time?
I was blown away by it. I loved it and it was really cool that it worked out because the first time she talked to me about playing with her, it was back when I was in a group called The Boys in the Band. We played at SPBGMA and her band was there but her guitar player, Dave Denman, was leaving. She called me a few weeks after that and asked if I’d be interested. At that point, she had only recorded Too Late to Cry and I was really impressed with the songs, with John Pennell’s writing, and her singing. I had already committed to playing with a different group though so I had to decline.
About two or three years later I had started a group called Dusty Miller that she was a fan of. That band had Barry Bales and Adam Steffey in it. The three of us kind of grew up together playing music. We’re all from Kingsport, Tennessee. I actually gave Adam his first mandolin lesson, which is such a joke. [Laughs] Adam didn’t know anything about the instrument at all at the time. I tried to show him some stuff and I just kept thinking, “That guy’s never gonna get it.” And I barely knew how to play myself but I tried to show him “Bluegrass Breakdown” and he just couldn’t get it. He got with a different teacher after that and got real serious about it. The next time I saw him play, I was like, “What happened here?” [Laughs] It was like the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen in my life. I take absolutely no credit for that whatsoever.
Barry Bales was a student of James Alan Shelton. And James and I both taught at the Guitar Shop in Kingsport. That’s where I met Adam and gave him that lesson, and I met Barry down there, too. We all three ended up playing in The Boys in the Band. And then we started Dusty Miller. Alison liked that rhythm section so she offered the job to all three of us at the same time, and we took it. This was early 1990 and we played our first show in May — I think it was at the Station Inn. It was just incredible. We played some amazing places, but it was during the period of the band when we were all traveling in a van and staying in one hotel room.
I was playing with Alison when I met Tony Rice. We ended up playing a lot of shows together because he and Alison had the same agent and were on the same label. I never will forget the first time I really ever talked to Tony much. We were playing right before him at Winterhawk (which is now Grey Fox) and I broke a string on the last song we played. We got a standing ovation so I was backstage digging around, trying to find a string so we could do an encore. And Tony walks over with “the antique” and says, “Hey, man, here, play this.” I had a smile from ear-to-ear and Alison was smiling too.
What was it like getting to put that biography of Tony together? What led to that?
Well, a few years after that, after I left Union Station and started Blue Highway, I was still playing shows with Tony because Blue Highway had signed with Rounder, too. We were at a show with Tony and I said, “Man, have you ever thought about a biography?” And he said, “Well, actually, yeah, I have thought of that. But I’ll tell you what,” he said, “I think you’d be the ideal person to write it.” I said OK and started on it. That was about 2000 and it took 10 years to finish.
Three years into it, Caroline Wright came on board through Pam [Rice, Tony’s wife]. Caroline is a journalist and her mom was a member of the bluegrass community from New York state. Caroline lived in Hawaii at that time and had written a really well-done article about Tony in Listener magazine. I had started Tony’s book, but I was bogged down with it and wasn’t making a lot of progress and Pam suggested that Caroline come on board. We did four or five major, huge interviews with Tony that could have each been a book by themselves. And when we started transcribing them, we realized that Tony was so eloquent that we had to put it in Tony’s words. We couldn’t make it a narrative biography. That’s why it’s laid out the way it is. It’s chronological but in Tony’s words.
I’m really glad that we got to do it. Somebody would have done a book on him eventually, but I’m really glad that it came out before he left us. He’s one of those generational talents. I just don’t know that there’s going to be many people ever come along again who have an impact like that. He’s in the same league as Earl Scruggs, a top talent who created a language on the instrument.
So, it’s been a weird year, obviously. What have you been doing during this time?
I’ve been doing a lot of co-writing over Zoom. The other day I wrote my one-hundred-and-fourteenth song since the pandemic started.
Whoa!
Thomm Jutz and I’ve written 40 or so, just the two of us and, you know, you just get into the habit of doing it every week. I feel like Zoom is going to stick around and be the standard after the pandemic. I think it’s changed the way a lot of people think about co-writing. It makes you more disciplined and more productive. The technology just makes it easy. There’s no reason now for me to make a trip to Nashville, which is like four and a half hours, and get a hotel and all that when I can do all of it from home on my computer.
When you’re writing or doing work, are you the sort of person that has to change into regular people’s clothes to feel productive, or can you stay in your pajamas and be productive?
I think I’ve written at least a hundred of those 114 songs in my pajamas. [Laughs] I’m not going to dress up, I just want to be comfortable.
The amount of love and respect that has poured out of the music community around the country and the globe for the loss of Tony Rice has been breathtaking to say the least. The breadth of Rice’s legacy cannot be understated as he pioneered not only the guitar’s role in a bluegrass band, but also created a new sound previously unexplored by acoustic musicians. A seminal flatpicker, his touch, timing, and taste are unmatched to this day, and there’s the separate matter of his beautifully rich voice. Here at BGS, we’ve shared Tony Rice memories and stories from the likes of Ricky Skaggs, Todd Phillips & Robbie Fulks, Sam Bush, Jerry Douglas, and David Grisman, and many others.
The latest contributors to our collective debt of gratitude to Tony is the String Cheese Incident, collaborating virtually to cover “Old Train,” the lead track on what many consider his magnum opus, Manzanita. The String Cheese Incident is known for being a genre-bending group, but founding member Bill Nershi had this to say about their bluegrass roots and Rice’s artistry: “Tony Rice’s guitar playing shaped a generation of musicians. His impeccable tone, taste, and timing were unmatched and highly regarded by players and listeners alike. We are very fortunate to have so many great recordings of his life’s work. If you haven’t had the pleasure of hearing him perform, check out The Tony Rice Unit and David Grisman Quintet albums. I recommend you start with Manzanita. We’ll never forget you, Tony!”
Watch the String Cheese Incident perform “Old Train:”
In the final chapter of Toy Heart’s three-part tribute to Tony Rice, host Tom Power speaks to several musicians who have been inspired by Tony Rice throughout their career, pickers and artists through whom Tony’s music will certainly live on.
On episode 3 of Toy Heart: Remembering Tony Rice, MacArthur “Genius” and Punch Brothers frontman Chris Thile tells a story about a jam with Tony Rice backstage that changed his musical life. Chris “Critter” Eldridge (pictured), also of the Punch Brothers, talks about the time he spent living with and learning from Tony — not just about music, but about life. Guitarist and singer-songwriter Molly Tuttle speaks about Rice’s influence on her guitar playing and how she sees his music living on even through musicians like herself, who never knew him personally. Finally, in-demand Nashville guitarist, session player, and sideman Bryan Sutton talks about recording with Tony and how he learned to be himself thanks to Tony Rice’s example.
Editor’s Note: Hear Thile at timestamp 01:58; Eldridge at 33:17; Tuttle at 01:03:17; and Sutton at 01:21:09
Welcome to the BGS Radio Hour! Since 2017, the show has been a weekly recap of all the great music, new and old, featured on BGS. This week, we reflect on artists lost in 2020 and look forward to some upcoming releases from the biggest names in roots music. Remember to check back every Monday for a new episode.
Tony Rice’s passing on Christmas Day 2020 was an unexpected loss for the entire world of roots music. Fortunately for all of us, he leaves behind an enormous legacy of recordings from his career, which began in 1971 with Sam Bush and the Bluegrass Alliance. Our most recent Toy Heart episodes dive into Rice’s personality and music, crafted through conversation with those closest to him.
From Tulsa, Oklahoma Jared Tyler of Saugeye brings us this tribute to his late pup, from the band’s self-titled album. After Lillie passed, he was observing all of the holes she dug in the yard. Did she ever find China?
Tampa-based blues artist Selwyn Birchwood proves to BGS this week that you can party to blues music. “When I look back at all of the blues songs that I really loved growing up, a lot of them were about drinking, f#%^ing or smokin’,” Birchwood told us…”So I wrote a song about all three!!”
So many artists, the Dead South included, have missed performing live more than we can imagine. So, why not put out a live album? This week, we’ve got this Dead South hit from Served Live.
Alabama-born and New Orleans-based artist Alabama Slim brings us a single from The Parlor. A mere four hours of recording – straight to tape – at the Parlor studio, alongside Little Freddie King and Ardie Dean, and the result is a master class in deep, soulful blues.
Our bi-weekly Tunesday Tuesday feature is changing in 2021, from an artist spotlight to a monthly roundup of instrumental music and the themes which connect several recordings. This week, we look at modern Irish banjo styles, and artists like Allison de Groot who add their own unique contributions.
Texas duo Hardened & Tempered are our recent guest on 5+5 – that is, 5 questions, 5 songs. We talked inspirations, rituals, and a dream musician and meal pairing. Their new album Hold the Line, is out now!
Regular viewers of The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon may have seen Shires and Isbell grace the stage recently. The power-couple stopped by the show to perform Shires’ new single, “The Problem,” just another example of her impeccable songwriting.
From Joe Mullins and Smithsonian Folkways. We’re looking forward to Industrial Strength Bluegrass, an album honoring the rich bluegrass history of Southwestern Ohio, created by an influx of mid-century migrants from Appalachia in search of factory jobs.
Surely, one thing we’re all missing are the endless hours on the highway accompanied by a favorite mixtape. Singer-songwriter David Starr brings us just that this week, featuring this classic Jackson Browne song, which Starr does himself.
As we wind down our January Artist of the Month – the complete soundtrack to O Brother, Where Art Thou? – we’ll leave the first month of 2021 with this soothing melody from the Cox Family, featured in the film.
From her new album, That’s How Rumors Get Started, Margo priced brings us this resurrected song from her former band, Buffalo Clover. Coping with losing a child, Price and her husband began hanging around a rough crowd of musicians, and “partying harder than the Rolling Stones.” Hence, this song about drinking and partying your talents away – something Price wrote of her friends but later recognized in her own actions.
From Edwards, Colorado, Wolf van Elfmand sings about the lessons we learn from loss. Rathering than basking in the anger or loneliness that follows, he pursues what he considers the only other option: acceptance.
From Justin Timberlake’s new film, Palmer, Nathaniel Rateliff brings us “Redemption.” The film tells the story of a small-town high school hero turned ex-convict, humbly returning to his roots. After Rateliff’s previous release, And It’s Still Alright, grew his popularity in 2020, he was tasked with writing this song for the film – and it came naturally.
Photos: (L to R) Margo Price by Bobbi Rich; Tony Rice by Heather Hafleigh; Amanda Shires by Alysse Gafkjen
Host Tom Power speaks with Peter Rowan, Béla Fleck, Sharon Gilchrist, and Josh Williams all former bandmates, collaborators, and peers of Tony Rice, in the second edition of our special tribute, Toy Heart: Remembering Tony Rice.
On episode 2 of our limited series, Toy Heart: Remembering Tony Rice, host Tom Power begins with Béla Fleck, talking about the making of two legendary albums: Drive and The Bluegrass Sessions: Tales from the Acoustic Planet, Vol.2. Fleck relates what it was like to work with Tony in studio and some wild stories about their touring together.
Also in the episode, mandolinist and instructor Sharon Gilchrist displays a rare perspective on Tony’s life. Something of a recluse, Tony would often drive by himself after gigs, hours and hours overnight. Gilchrist had the rare opportunity to join him for some of these drives and tells some stories of what she learned on those trips to and from Quartet shows. Later in the episode, a conversation with Peter Rowan about his early memories of Tony – and how he compared with his mentor Clarence White. To conclude, Josh Williams talks about being Tony Rice’s “voice” in his band, the Unit, how Tony helped him get through one of the darkest periods in his life, and why Tony was and is his hero.
Editor’s note: Heart part three of our special tribute to Tony Rice here
No BGS reader needs a rundown of Tony Rice’s biography or accomplishments. Earlier this month I chatted with Todd Phillips, Tony’s close friend and bassist across multiple groups (David Grisman Quintet, Bluegrass Album Band, Tony Rice Unit) from 1975 to 1985. During these years Tony used inspiration from mid-century jazz and musical peers, along with his innate willpower, as levers to crack open a stunning new guitar vocabulary. In doing so he rose from a bluegrass badass to a global force, operating well above tribes and vogues.
When Todd emerged in the 1970s, bass guitar was a cross-genre norm. A young upright player who melded Scott LaFaro’s gracefulness with J.D. Crowe’s timefeel was a fairly wonderful anomaly in bluegrass. I started working with Todd in 2014, and grew close with him fast. He brought something rare — a relaxed whiphand — to the feel onstage. In the van, he indulged my ceaseless fanboy questions about the old days. An equable ex-stoner with a mildly grumpy edge, he’s as adept at building an instrument or a chicken coop as analyzing acoustic riddles, and his long experience working with people as unalike as Joan Baez, David Grier, and Elvis Costello gives him a high perch from which to reflect. He reminisced fluidly about Tony over the phone with me for two hours, stopping only twice, once overwhelmed by emotion and once to get a bottle of tequila. (Read more from our conversation at my blog.)
Members of David Grisman Quintet, 1977. L-R: Tony Rice, Todd Phillips, David Grisman, Darol Anger. (Photo by Jon Sievert.)
Robbie Fulks: I listened back today to California Autumn and other records I hadn’t heard for ages, and heard little passages that sounded uncharacteristic of Tony. Did gestures come into his vocabulary, stay there for a while, and then fade off as he went to concentrate on another idea?
Todd Phillips: That’s true, yeah. He would go through cycles, get on a kick. He’d get on riffs, like hearing Billy Crystal: “You look marvelous.” He’d say that 40 times a day, and a year later, drop it for some other riff. The vocabulary would change, according to the era.
That’s fascinating, to compare it to a non-musical example. So let’s dive in, go back to the start. Tell me about meeting Tony — when, where, and how you guys got underway with the Grisman project.
I was a beginning mandolin player, and I was certainly in over my head, playing mandolin with David, but he’d never heard me play bass, which I’d played since I was a little kid. This was 1974, and Clarence White had died the year before. And we just thought, this is a good band, we don’t need a guitar — no one else could fill Clarence’s shoes, and he’d be the only guy that would work in this thing. Then David came home from a Bill Keith recording session and said, “I just met the guy that could do it.”
(Photo by Todd Phillips)
Shortly after that, J.D. Crowe and the New South were on their way to Japan, and they stopped in San Francisco to play one gig. They hung with us for a couple days and… I had never hung with, um, that many guys from Kentucky all at once. [Laughs]
I’ve told you about that Mexican restaurant in Berkeley. The Californians — me, Darol, and David — and the Kentucky guys — J.D., Tony, Ricky, Jerry, and Bobby — were seated at one giant round table. First, Crowe ordered: “Six tacos and a Coke!” Then each New South guy ordered exactly the same. I guess they were used to the little three-inch tacos you can eat in two bites. So this big table ended up covered with plates full of giant tacos, surrounded by a pretty interesting mix of characters. I wish we had a photo. Polyester and tie-dye T-shirts all around.
After they came back from Japan, Tony gave J.D. his notice. He hooked up a little U-Haul trailer — clothes, suitcase, guitar, and stereo system — and got an apartment in Marin County. And we started rehearsing. At that point, we had what we had, but then Tony’s chemistry came into it. And it just catalyzed the whole thing. It was huge. Tony had to learn his harmony and a bunch of chords he hadn’t really played before — but we had to learn to play rhythm like J.D. Crowe. So we probably rehearsed for another six months before we went out and played our first shows.
Recording the first David Grisman Quintet album. (Photo by Todd Phillips)
Tell me about the first gig.
Our first show was in Bolinas [in Marin County], in the community center. We made our own posters and put them up all over Bolinas, so it was sold out. And no sound system. We wanted people to hear us just like we rehearsed. There were probably 200 people there.
So small room, gather round, and somehow the guitar projected through.
We played with dynamics — if Tony was soloing, we shut ourselves up. We got down light and tight under him. Since we hadn’t played through a sound system, we just did what we did every day anyway.
The first on-the-road thing, not long after, was in Japan. Our show was a bluegrass quintet with Bill Keith and Richard Greene, followed by a set of DGQ. Then, as soon as we got back from Japan, we recorded the first quintet record. So it still had that energy. We were still excited to hear it, too, every time — it would raise the hair on our arms! It was kind of a… strong existence. Life felt — pumped up, you know?
First photo of David Grisman Quintet, 1975. (Photo by Todd Phillips)
Close companions in an intense situation. A lot of people have been in a band or in the army. But on top of that, you guys were altering the course of music.
Yeah. Maybe it is a little like an army buddy. I was a cross between his bass player and his little brother. Also his babysitter, sometimes! He had left his old friends, and when he came to California, I seemed to be the guy he gravitated to. On off days, all of a sudden there’s a knock on the door at 10 a.m., and it’s Tony — “Hey man, let’s go the boardwalk, ride the roller coaster. Let’s go to the record store.” We went to the record store a million times. Came home with bags of records and stayed up all night listening — I mean, he taught me to listen close, whether playing music or just listening to records.
Any memories of the 1975 Grisman Rounder album sessions?
Tony was hilarious! We’d go out to eat, and he’d come back with a couple of cloth napkins. He’d fold one up and put it on his head, and put on sunglasses. Looking like a weird Quaker. And then drape another napkin over his left hand and go, “I don’t want anybody to steal any of my licks.” [Laughs] He’d leave that thing on his head, with the sunglasses, for like, three hours.
(Photo by Todd Phillips)
Have you heard guitarists who managed not to sound like Tony, in the years since?
Well, because Tony opened the door, after Clarence, you can’t help but sound like him as a bluegrass soloist. He found those avenues on a fingerboard that you can play with a strong attack and accurate, strong expression. A lot of it is mechanics. A D-28 with semi-high action, there are certain phrases that fall naturally under your fingers, and Tony found those. So I think a lot of guitarists use those avenues because — they’re there. You might hear different phrases but they’re not as strong. They might be more interesting, or more academically pleasing, but the effect — I haven’t heard it as strong as in those passages that Tony found.
Tell me about Manzanita.
There was no preparation that I remember. The guys came to Berkeley and we went to work. We ran a tune for 20 minutes, then recorded it maybe three to six times.
Béla Fleck said Tony didn’t like to rehearse much.
Yeah. Sink or swim.
David Grisman, Todd Phillips, Tony Rice (Photo by Todd Phillips)
Any road memories involving Tony?
He didn’t go out a lot. We went to Japan once, the three Rice brothers — Larry, Wyatt, Tony — and me. And Tony — maybe that’s when he started — he just never left his hotel room.
What was he doing in there?
Ordering room service. Later, traveling with the Unit, he’d stick to the room. I mean…he pretty much lived in front of his stereo, smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee. That’s what he thrived on.
How did you listen to music away from the home stereo back then?
In the early days, he drove a noisy Dodge Challenger. A muscle car, with a cassette player in the dashboard. We’d listen loud. And driving from Grisman’s house back to mine every night, it was pretty much all John Coltrane, the classic quartet.
Interesting!
Yeah, and later, a lot of Oscar Peterson. He’s like Tony: you recognize the phrases, and they’re strong as hell. Meticulous mechanics. Tony never studied music academically — but the sound of it. He took that in and it’d come out later somehow, the power and the attitude, more than specific notes or theory.
(Photo by Todd Phillips)
Did he have any relationship to the written page?
No. Not at all.
Tony cited Miles Davis and Eric Dolphy as favorites, but I don’t hear a strong kinship.
I think those were unique voices. Like Django, or Vassar.
Individualists.
I think that’s it. The attitude. He liked those kind of characters, like David Janssen — he really had an obsession with David Janssen. Or Lee Marvin.
Ha!
I’m not kidding! The Marlboro Man.
People that laid it down.
Exactly.
David Grisman Band in silhouette, 1976. (Photo by Todd Phillips)
I’m curious about the chemistry between Tony and other strong personalities. You’ve told me your take on the Skaggs-Rice dichotomy, the good and bad guys from everyone’s high school…
Yeah, Ricky would be class president and Tony would be Eddie Haskell. [Laughs] There’s a little of that, but musical respect bridges all gaps.
With David, did Tony slip easily into a sideman role?
The chemistry was — not volatile, but exciting. The New Jersey hippie and Mister Perfection. You know, when Tony was new to California, David’s living room was a real event. You never knew who you’d run into — Jethro Burns, Taj Mahal, Jerry Garcia. I think that excited Tony. He’d dig in his heels, just be who he is, and people respected that. He was…I guess I want to use the word “stubborn.” Clear-headed, with his vision.
Were cigarettes it for Tony, or were there harder things he liked to do?
No! He actually went light on the marijuana, compared to everyone else in Marin. He kinda puffed a little bit, just to participate.
Any whiskey?
No, he drank a few beers at home. I don’t remember any hard liquor at all.
New Year’s at Great American Music Hall, 1978-1979. (Photo by Jon Sievert.)
I read in The Guardianobit: “apprentice pipe fitter”…?!
Yeah! His dad was a welder, pipe fitter, and Tony and his brothers did that too.
What did he do to keep his fingers strong besides play?
Nothing. He bit his nails. He had no fingernails, and his fingertips looked like blocks of wood. Like the rounded end of a wooden dowel. The guy played a lot. He had hands that physically, mechanically, work in a different way. He could push down with his thumb, on his right hand, but also push up, with his first finger. You can look at YouTube and see it — a really strong muscular mechanism between thumb and index.
His down and upstrokes weren’t ascribed to the usual beats, weren’t automatized in the normal way — and were equally forceful.
Yeah. And rhythmically, a lot of triplet syncopation on the upstrokes. People just say “syncopation,” but technically it’s playing 3/4 against 4/4, like Elvin Jones’s drumming. You can’t tell if it’s in 3 or 6 or 4 or 2. It’s all of it. It’s all of it! And those subdivisions, I learned that from Tony — you slice that up in all kinds of ways, so those polyrhythms are all churning in your hands or head at the same time. That’s what generates good time, not tapping your foot. Tony had all those superimposed polyrhythms in him.
(Photo by Todd Phillips)
Bluegrassers work hard and live long, on the whole. And with so many players of your generation now in their 70s and performing as energetically as ever, Tony’s story looks more profoundly sad to me.
You know, I don’t know why Tony went the way he went. Why he couldn’t be as youthful as Sam Bush. Who knows, if there was some kind of a depression, or if that desire for perfection wore him out. You know? Because he did play with joy, but it was also that crazy obsession, to be perfect and accurate — maybe he was just too hard on himself.
He was hard on everybody around him. I know that I developed way more than I ever would have developed if I’d never known him. It was not that he was ever mean or harsh to me, but being around him, you put pressure on yourself to live up. I think everybody that played with him was like that. He jacked up the music to this level — and then it was your challenge to get up there with him. Being around him changed me forever.
Lede image by Heather Hafleigh. All photos provided by Todd Phillips and used by permission.
Tony Rice, revolutionary guitar player and Bluegrass Hall-of-Famer, died Friday, December 25 at the age of 69. His passing was confirmed and memorialized by friend, collaborator, and fellow Hall-of-Famer Ricky Skaggs, per the request of Tony’s family. He was a true icon and will be remembered and revered by everyone in the community. Read Ricky’s full post below:
“Sometime during Christmas morning while making his coffee, our dear friend and guitar hero Tony Rice passed from this life and made his swift journey to his heavenly home. It’s still quite a shock to the whole family. After talking with Tony’s wife Pam and their daughter India, they asked if I would make a statement on their behalf and give them some privacy to process during this difficult time. I was honored to help out. Tony is also survived by his brothers Wyatt and Ronnie, and all of you who loved his music and those who will continue to share it with others.
Tony Rice was the single most influential acoustic guitar player in the last 50 years. Many if not all of the Bluegrass guitar players of today would say that they cut their teeth on Tony Rice’s music. He loved hearing the next generation players play his licks. I think that’s where he got most of his joy as a player. With many IBMA Awards and a Grammy Award, Tony was a gracious recipient of the International Bluegrass Music Award’s highest honor as an inductee into their Hall Of Fame in 2013.
Not only was Tony a brilliant guitar player but he was also one of the most stylistic lead vocalist in Bluegrass music history. When I joined the group The New South in 1974, I knew I’d found a singing soul mate with Tony. Our voices blended like brothers. In 1980 we recorded the album “Skaggs And Rice” for Sugar Hill as a tribute to our duet hero’s with just the simplicity of guitar, mandolin, and our voices. All these years later people tell me how much the purity of that record still touches their heart. That’s who Tony was, a singer from the heart.
I will miss him as I’m sure all of you will. But where Tony is right now, he’s not missing us. He’s in the place that God has prepared for those who love Him and receive Him. Rest In Peace dear brother. Thank you for your great talent and the music that will continue to inspire more and more generations to come.”
Just about every picker in bluegrass and old-time each has their own right-hand approach to their instruments. Even on the violin, a device with hundreds of years of technique and pedagogy behind its myriad bowing-arm methods, idiosyncrasies are still apparent in nearly every instrumentalist’s approach. The six-string, flat-top guitar — despite being perhaps the most common “ax” in the traditional five-piece string band — has experienced far fewer seismic shifts in playing style and technique, though its individual touches are just as varied. Clarence White and acolyte Tony Rice each reinvigorated the instrument’s role in bluegrass; and today, players like David Grier, Tommy Emmanuel, and Molly Tuttle conjure mind-bending, never before seen or heard acrobatics on their instruments. (Tuttle’s clawhammer guitar approach being a perfect example.)
Mark Harris, an Australia-born guitarist now based in Colorado, offers his own innovative right-hand style on a new album, Old Time Guitar. His debut, the fifteen-song series explores old-time fiddle tunes re-arranged and configured for solo guitar. By playing with open tunings and capitalizing on their innate resonance, Harris is able to execute each composition as if a one-man-band, supplying his own rhythm section and simultaneously picking the tune. It’s like an old-time rendering of jazz guitar studies’ chord melodies plus open-string droning seemingly plucked from the banjo. The result, like on “Lost Girl,” is a loping, driving, homey sound with a polish — or perhaps a patina. On “Lost Girl,” Harris’ guitar is tuned D G D G B E (top to bottom), giving his flat-top box a honey-like resonance somewhere between a singer-songwriter’s DADGAD happy place and an open-tuned banjo.
WithOld Time Guitar, Harris makes a compelling mark within a contemporary old-time scene hungry to demonstrate its canon isn’t just time capsule music, but relevant contextualized in the present — with production, arrangements, and outside-the-box thinking to match.
Photo credit: Tim Brown
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