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.
Artist:Appalachian Road Show Hometown: Canton, North Carolina (Jim Van Cleve); Lexington, North Carolina (Zeb Snyder) Personal Nicknames: Jibby (Jim); Appalachian Zeb (Zeb)
Editor’s Note: As BGS and Come Hear NC team up in November, we present North Carolina natives Jim Van Cleve and Zeb Snyder of Appalachian Road Show for this edition of BGS 5+5. Their newest album is Tribulation.
What other art forms — literature, film, dance, painting, etc — inform your music?
I think in a subconscious way, film and photography likely inspire my writing and even playing in a powerful way — and especially when referring to instrumental pieces. I’ve often said that when I’m writing, I can almost see or even “feel” a scene from a movie or a compelling visual image or something. There’s almost like this “unseen visual” which informs the emotional content of the piece of music in question. In some subconscious way, the gravity of a scene from a movie, or in a powerful photograph, will inhabit the melody shapes and rhythmic feel I’ll gravitate towards.
And, I think when I’m writing, I’m often subconsciously wondering… “What is happening in the movie that THIS song is the score for?” It’s difficult to put in words, but I definitely feel it. With Appalachian Road Show, there are such compelling stories that come from the region of our namesake, that it feels like it saturates every note of every song when we’re at our emotional peak. I can often envision scenes from Cold Mountain or The Outlander or Braveheart even during certain songs we’ll perform. — Jim Van Cleve
Which artist has influenced you the most … and how?
I’d have to say Tony Rice. When I think back on my growth as a flatpicker, I can see how Tony’s influence on me has changed and come from different directions over the years. When I first discovered his music at eleven years old, I was all about figuring out his lead playing on bluegrass songs and fiddle tunes. After that, I started getting into his original instrumentals and his work with [David] Grisman and on Béla Fleck’s albums, which taught me new chord voicings and more challenging leads.
The next and maybe the most important phase would be when I started taking rhythm playing more seriously as a teenager and started studying all of the subtleties of Tony’s rhythm pattern and embellishments, particularly on the Bluegrass Album Band stuff. I have so many favorite guitar players, but I always come back to Tony every so often and figure out things that I had never noticed or understood earlier in life. — Zeb Snyder
What’s the toughest time you ever had writing a song?
I believe maybe the one that was the most challenging for me was when I was asked to write a new IBMA Awards show theme song. The song was ultimately called “The Road From Rosine,” and there were a LOT of angles to consider with that one. For starters, the previous song, “Shoulder to Shoulder,” was written and recorded by one of my heroes Jerry Douglas, (and the whole band on that track is a bluegrass Mount Rushmore). The tune itself is a classic and had been used for years and years as the awards show theme. I’d grown up with the song, and it being a staple of the show, so I had this subconscious mountain to climb in the first place.
Then, on top of that, you have all of these “marks” — emotional and energy/dynamic-wise — that a song being used like this has to hit, because you know how it needs to be used throughout the show. So, it just had a lot of different roles it needed to fill, and in general you just want it to be as great as it can be, given the gravity of that situation. I wanted the song to capture the essence and spirit of bluegrass… the way the founding fathers of the music intended for it to feel, but I also wanted it to embody a sense of where the music is heading, with kind of a forward looking element. So basically, I was trying to write a song that would bridge all the gaps between the past, the present, and the future of our music, and also be theme-ish. — Jim Van Cleve
If you had to write a mission statement for your career, what would it be?
Every undertaking, big or small, do it to the absolute best of your ability, keeping integrity and transparency above all. If you’re going to do a thing, do it beyond the point of excellence. Be authentic and strive to treat the people you work with like you’d wish to be treated, even (and especially) when they make it difficult to do so! haha! 😉 Full disclosure: It’s been our intention from the start to adopt this philosophy in Appalachian Road Show, and we feel that it’s been an important part of our early successes. — Jim Van Cleve
What was the first moment that you knew you wanted to be a musician?
Well, I started playing music through classical lessons. I was seven years old, and my sister had just started doing Suzuki method violin lessons. My parents got me into the Suzuki classical guitar program. At that point, I enjoyed playing, but it was kind of like a favorite school subject, not a passion. Four years later I started playing bluegrass guitar. That was when everything changed. I was so passionate about playing, and I was acting on my own initiative instead of treating practice like it was homework.
I would lose track of time while I was practicing, figure songs and licks out on my own, spend hours researching and listening my favorite artists on the internet, and even get random ideas for my own little instrumentals and licks before I even really knew what I was doing. When my family band started playing a few gigs, that was it. I discovered that I could feel pretty calm and confident on stage, even though I was a shy and reserved kid by nature. My passion for the music took over, and I couldn’t imagine doing anything else for a living. — Zeb Snyder
Artist:Larry Keel Hometown: Lexington, Virginia for the past 24 years. Latest album:American Dream, out November 6, 2020 Personal nicknames (or rejected band names): My wife and I call each other “Ange” (pronounced “Aynge” with a long “a”) other nicknames are “Doghead” and “Late-night Man.”
What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?
My favorite memory is standing next to two of my heroes that I had studied all my life up to that point, and getting to collaborate and share in the music we made together on stage… I’m speaking of Tony Rice and Vassar Clements, during a period in my career when both of these iconic musicians played regularly in my band. Other major moments I cherish and will never forget are playing with Little Feat in Jamaica on a beach in Negril, playing Carnegie Hall in New York, playing Red Rocks Amphitheatre, and getting to play live music with my wife and my brother all throughout my career.
What other art forms — literature, film, dance, painting, etc. — inform your music?
I truly love to paint! Bob Ross got to me early in my childhood, and he’s still all up in my soul. I paint with watercolors, markers, pens, anything when I feel the urge. I guess poetry also influences my music, because I lean on that literary form for my songwriting. And I’m currently getting more into designing a meal and preparing the food, then plating it artistically.
What was the first moment that you knew you wanted to be a musician?
I knew I had to be a musician when I was little and I started paying more attention to my father and older brother playing (they both played guitar, my father also played banjo and sang). I loved watching them have such a good time and I could see how everyone playing music with them or listening to them all enjoyed it so much. Then, when I was 7, my brother bought me a guitar, helped me get started with chords and positions, and I never set the instrument down…I was hooked from then on.
If you had to write a mission statement for your career, what would it be?
The mission is to let the art take me and everyone listening on a journey together, to get us all on the same page for the time we’re connecting through the music. If I had to give myself or a budding musician advice, I’d say be ready to work HARD. Do your music and your business your own way. Let your own instincts and your own style guide your decisions. I’m a big believer in “march to the beat of your own drum…” and, be frugal and be kind.
Which elements of nature do you spend the most time with and how do those impact your work?
I spend lots of time in the garden, right here at my home. It’s such a zen feeling to plant seeds, nurture them, watch them grow and then enjoy the fruits and veggies of mine and my wife’s labor. Fishing and being on any water is another zen-like activity that keeps me grounded. All in all, I try to spend as much time as possible in nature, because it charges up my “feel-good” and gives me a connection to something timeless and eternal. I’m always trying to tap that genuine energy when I write and play music. That’s the goal.
Maybe I’m biased*, but I’ve always felt that the bass is the most important instrument in the bluegrass band. It might not immediately draw your ear, but a bassist’s interpretation of the groove and harmony of a song holds substantial power over how the song is ultimately felt by the listener. Without a great bassist, a band full of shredders can sound anemic and sad; a heartfelt lyric can seem tedious and derivative. But add some tasty low end, and the same band will soar; the lyric will swell with passion! (Attention sound engineers: simply cranking the subs won’t cut it.) As such, the bassist’s importance in a bluegrass band is considerable.
Even so, great bassists are rarely given their due, unless they also happen to be virtuosic melodic players. Well, that ends today! Here are some examples of masterful low end artistry from some of my favorite denizens of the doghouse. Please excuse the shameless inclusion of one of my own tracks, because, well… I have an album to promote. Enjoy! — Jeff Picker
*I’m definitely biased.
Tony Rice – “Shadows” (Mark Schatz, bass)
Mark is one of my favorite bluegrass bassists. His tone is huge and clear, and his bass lines are subtly creative. On this track, listen to the fluid transitions back and forth between standard bluegrass time and a more open feel. Also note his slick fills and voice leading throughout.
Nashville Bluegrass Band – “Happy on the Mississippi Shores” (Gene Libbea, bass)
If aliens came to earth, demanded to know what bluegrass bass sounded like, and stipulated that I had only one song with which to demonstrate it, I’d play this. Gene Libbea’s feel is perfect; his note choices are just varied enough to add a bit of intrigue to the basic harmony of the song, while never sacrificing the pendulum effect that drives the bluegrass bus. The occasional unison fill with the banjo adds to the fun.
Ralph Stanley and the Clinch Mountain Boys – “Loving You Too Well” (Jack Cooke, bass)
I love this approach to the bluegrass waltz. Jack Cooke’s playing here is busier than what you might hear from many bluegrass bassists these days, and there’s a certain playful and casual quality to it, which I find refreshing. He bounces around between octaves, and between full walking lines and half-notes. Old-school, “open air” bass playing.
Matt Flinner – “Nowthen” (Todd Phillips, bass)
This song may sound slow and simple, but make no mistake: to groove like this, at this tempo, in this exposed instrumentation, is HARD. Todd Phillips demonstrates his mastery here: clear tone, impressive intonation, and intentional, direct timing. I also love how softly Todd plays — at times, he seems to barely touch the bass. To me, that conveys maturity and experience.
I had fun studying the bass playing on this track when I got to perform it with Patty and Ricky Skaggs a few years back. Clarence “Tater” Tate played both bass and fiddle for Bill Monroe’s Blue Grass Boys over the years, and had about as much pedigree in bluegrass as can be achieved. I dig the playing here, because it feels like an old-school, 1950s approach (bouncy, busy, slightly loose bass playing), but with contemporary recording quality. If you focus on the bass, you can tell how much fun he’s having with the slightly crooked form and joyous lyric — it sounds like a musical smile.
Anaïs Mitchell and Jefferson Hamer – “Clyde Waters (Child 216)” (Viktor Krauss, bass)
The first time I heard this song, I didn’t even realize there was bass on it. But I found myself coming back to it, drawn by the story-like quality of the musical arrangement, and I realized that the bass plays a major part in that dynamism. Viktor Krauss displays impeccable taste in his musical choices here. He knows when to play, when not to, when to articulate an additional note, when to sustain. For a player as technically proficient as Viktor, such restraint is impressive. His playing serves the song, first and foremost.
Del McCoury Band – “Learnin’ the Blues” (Mike Bub, bass)
As everybody in Nashville knows, when Mike Bub and his Kay bass show up at a gig, a fat groove is imminent. This track showcases Bub’s rock solid hybrid feel — he bounces between 4/4 walking and half-time, triplet and ghost note fills, and even has a little two-bar break in the middle. This is the type of bass playing that makes it virtually impossible to sound bad (not that Del and the boys needed any help in that department). Bub is also a great guy with a sense of humor and tons of knowledge and stories about Nashville’s music history.
John Hartford – “Howard Hughes’ Blues” (Dave Holland, bass)
Bluegrass as a musical style is pretty specific — there’s room for a wide variety of personal voices, of course, but there are definitely some foundational qualities and vernacular that indicate whether a player is truly versed in the style. On this track, jazz legend Dave Holland sounds like exactly what he is: a jazz musician playing bluegrass. Normally a recipe for disaster, here somehow it works. His tone, feel, note choice, and general approach sound foreign in the style, but they actually mesh with Hartford’s loose and jovial manner quite well. A slightly bizarre but enjoyable approach to bluegrass bass.
Ricky Skaggs – “Walls of Time” (Mark Fain, bass)
I’ve spent a lot of time studying Mark Fain’s playing for my job with Ricky Skaggs, and I’m always finding subtle little musical gems in his bass parts. It’s Mark’s tone, taste, and timing that anchor most of the canonical Kentucky Thunder recordings that we all love. This track showcases his mastery of the bluegrass groove at a slow tempo — listen to the way he spruces up what could be a one-and-five-fest with ghost notes, fills, and syncopation.
Jeff Picker – “Rooster in the Tire Well” (Jeff Picker, bass)
When I was making my new record, With the Bass in Mind, one of my musical goals was to find some space for the bass to shine and for me to use some of the technique I don’t use very often as a sideman. As such, the record has many bass solos. This song has no bass solo, however, since this Mixtape isn’t about bass solos! There are some cool bass lines in it, though (if I do say so myself). I tried to choose my notes carefully, to help anchor the band through the song’s many metric changes.
Robert Plant and Alison Krauss – “Let Your Loss Be Your Lesson” (Dennis Crouch, bass)
This track is not exactly bluegrass, but what an incredibly grooving bass part. Here is a rare example of a time when slap bass was musically appropriate! Dennis is a friend of mine and a great guy and bassist. He plays with gut strings, punchy tone, and undeniably solid time. He’s also the master of throwing in a couple creative measures of voice leading at exactly the right moment in the song. I try to catch Dennis out playing in Nashville whenever I can.
Stan Getz and the Oscar Peterson Trio – “I Want To Be Happy” (Ray Brown, bass)
This is obviously not bluegrass, but no bass-centric mixtape would be complete without tipping the hat to King Ray. His half-time feel throughout the melody is flawless, and just listen to that crushing avalanche of groove beginning around 00:37. Ray is a bluegrasser’s jazz bassist because he plays on top of the beat, and his playing has a relentless forward motion, like the banjo playing of Earl Scruggs. I’ve loved this recording since I was 15 — you won’t find better bass playing anywhere.
Bluegrass Country Soul captures one of Carlton Haney’s legendary festivals in Camp Springs, North Carolina, on Labor Day weekend of 1971. It is credited as the first bluegrass documentary, and is essential viewing for both lifelong bluegrass fans and those new to the genre.
This classic film features bluegrass music’s pioneers, as well as those who would take the music into the future. Earl Scruggs, The Osborne Brothers, Ralph Stanley, Chubby Wise, Mac Wiseman, J.D. Crowe, and Jimmy Martin were featured alongside The Country Gentlemen, Del McCoury, Sam Bush, Tony Rice, Ricky Skaggs, Keith Whitley, Alan Munde, and more. The film documents Rice’s last show with The Bluegrass Alliance and his first show with J.D. Crowe & the Kentucky Mountain Boys. Many of the festival’s legendary moments are preserved in color for posterity.
A larger than life figure who is credited as starting the first multi-day bluegrass festival, Carlton Haney organized the weekend’s festival, and serves as the de facto host of the film, sharing thoughts about bluegrass music, bluegrass festivals, bluegrass fans, and the bluegrass “stow-ry.” His passion for the music is evident, and makes for a great depiction of one of bluegrass’s most significant and one-of-a-kind personalities.
Albert Ihde, the film’s director (pictured below), spoke with BGS about the film and its legacy to commemorate the 50th Anniversary boxed set of the film, released this summer. The special edition set includes the original film, recently remastered and restored; CDs of performances not featured in the film; bonus footage including exclusive interviews with Ricky Skaggs, Bill Emerson, Missy Raines, and more; and a full-color coffee table book about the film.
BGS: How did the opportunity to film Bluegrass Country Soul present itself 50 years ago?
Albert Ihde: It was almost by accident, in a sense. A couple of buddies of mine and I were preparing a screenplay for a company in Washington, D.C. that had hired me to write a film, and then I would direct. The only thing that they insisted on was that it had to be about a Country & Western singer. Now this is 1971, and back then they called it Country & Western. I said, “Okay. Fine. Let me do some research on that.
A buddy of mine, Bob Leonard, and I were out scouting locations in Berryville, Virginia when we saw posters for Carlton Haney’s 4th of July Festival, and Earl Scruggs was going to be playing. We thought, “Well, that looks interesting.” To make a long story short, I got in touch with John Miller, who was the partner of Carlton’s there at Berryville, and John took us on a tour of the sites because I wanted to see what it looked like. It was right on the Shenandoah. Gorgeous location. He gave us passes to the Fourth of July Festival. We had no idea what bluegrass was, compared to country music, and we thought, “This looks like it’ll be fun. We’ll go to see this.”
Director, Albert Ihde
A bunch of us got a VW wagon, and my wife hooked up a camper on the back of our car. We went out, and we parked and saw it, and I have to tell you, as soon as I heard that music coming from the stage, we were all hooked. We talked to Carlton. Quite a deal! Talked to Fred Bartenstein (a local disc jockey who helped with the annual festival) and they told us more about what they were doing. I wanted to put Carlton in a film right then and there as soon as I met him.
We got back to D.C. and the company that hired me to write this screenplay, it turned out that they couldn’t raise the money to make the movie. So we took the film and decided we would try and find the money ourselves. Fortunately the first guy that I sent it to called us into his office. He was a major D.C. investor, philanthropist, and owned lots of real estate in D.C. He said that the thing that interested him most about the screenplay was this bluegrass festival out in Berryville. He said, “Why don’t you do a film about that?”
My partner and I looked at him and said it’s gonna be hard to raise money for a documentary, and he said, “How much do you need?” We get our calculator out, we start going through it, and we throw a figure out to him. It’s not gonna be as expensive as the film that’s going to have all the actors that would be taking us six to eight weeks to shoot. This, we could shoot in one weekend. He said, “Listen if you get Carlton Haney to agree to allow you to come and shoot the film at his festival, I’ll go out and find the money.” And we said, “Okay.”
The next day, Bob Leonard and I were on a plane to North Carolina and met with Carlton and Fred, pitched the whole idea to him, and Carlton was on board right at the beginning. He said, “Absolutely. No problem.” I said, “Well, are you gonna get all of these musicians to agree to this?” And he said, “Yes, I can do that.”
We had all of twelve days, two weeks, or something like that, to get the whole thing together to get down to Camp Springs on Labor Day weekend. And we lucked out. We happened to have this incredible festival with all of the pioneers of bluegrass, along with all of the up and coming newgrass guys who were changing the music as we watched. It was a great mix of both the old and the new, and as Carlton called it, “the mixture of the short hairs and the long hairs.”
That was it! You’ve got the hippies sitting right next to the guys right off the farm in coveralls. A guy in a Confederate hat sitting right next to hippie girls. It was a great mix. And everybody got along. And it was at a time in America when the country split. Nixon and the protests trying to bring our troops home from Vietnam. It was a strange time. But the thing that happened at the festival… everybody was getting along all right! Also of course, most of the audience were bluegrass musicians of their own or were learning or wanting to be. So that’s how we got into it.
What were some things about Carlton’s personality that made him such a compelling figure to follow for a film?
A number of people have said he was like the “P.T. Barnum of Bluegrass.” So it was kinda like, just put a camera on him and let him go, because you never know what he’s gonna say! Of course, the great thing about filming is, you can always edit it, and we edited out a lot of Carlton.
At one point, it was towards the end of the weekend, we were filming Carlton out on the lot, and I say “Carlton, we need something to kind of summarize the whole thing, and put a tag on the end of the film.” He said, “Oh, that’s okay. I know exactly what to say. Do you want me to make you laugh or do you want me to make you cry?” And I looked at my cameraman, and Bob was ten years older than me, and he had a lot of experience doing this, and I looked at Bob and I said, “What do you think? Make us cry?” And Bob nodded his head “Yeah, make us cry, Carlton.” And Carlton said, “Okay, start the camera rolling.”
So we started the camera rolling, and Carlton is saying goodbye to the kid who is packing up his gear at the end, and then he turns to the camera and he says, “You know, when people leave, it makes me sad, because all my friends are leaving. But I know that they had a good time, and that they’ll be back again next year.” And tears are coming to his eyes! And he says, “And that’s bluegrass and that’s a bluegrass festival.” And I said “Cut!” Bob and I just burst out laughing, and I said “Carlton, you’re going to get an Academy Award for that!”
To this day, Fred tells me, he runs into people and he says they will quote to him the lines that Carlton had in the film. “The shorthairs and the longhairs,” [and,] “You look down upon the stage and you can hear the soul of man — Ralph Stanley.” They just came out of his mouth!
The other thing was, he could not look at the lens, no matter how hard I tried. [Carlton] had this real shyness problem, and yet you put him on the stage and hand him a mic in front of ten thousand people, he was fine. But put a camera in front of him, he was looking away. Kind of shy and withdrawn. I think he was very concerned about his looks. He had terrible teeth. As somebody once said, that’s part of the times back then when nobody had health insurance or dental insurance… that was the last thing that people spent money on. So I think Carlton was a little shy about the way he looked. But he was an interesting guy.
Pictured: Ralph Stanley
You mentioned that one thing that was so compelling about the film, and at bluegrass festivals in general, was seeing people from different walks of life united by this music and finding common ground, even if it was for a weekend. What do you think that message has for us today where we are as divided now as we were fifty years ago?
I hope it has the same result. Every time I have shown the film — and I have shown it to heads of studios in Hollywood, I showed it to corporations up in New York City — no matter where I’ve shown it, people leave the theatre with big smiles on their faces. It’s not necessarily because they’re bluegrass fans, but because they enjoy it. They had fun. They were delighted. Something about that music, about the people playing it, about the commitment that these people have to it. There’s more to it than just country music. I think that’s what Carlton was trying to say about the soul. It’s a commitment to the music that is thorough.
I don’t know whether Carlton told me this or not, but at some point I learned early on: bluegrass music is not commercial country. Meaning, you’re gonna lose your shirts on it, but you’re doing it because you love it. That really says it all, and I think that comes through with music and with Carlton and with all of the people that are on stage in the film and all the people playing out in the field… You see the commitment to the music.
Ellen [Pasternack, the project’s Executive Director and Ihde’s wife] and I have a background in professional theatre, regional theatre around the country, and what you’re always looking for working in theatre are actors who can really commit to doing a performance. It’s that commitment to the art — whether that’s music, theatre, dance, or painting — that’s where you find the joy in the art. And I think that comes through in the film, even if you don’t know anything about bluegrass. I hope that comes through still to this day, and maybe gets people thinking “past the politics” for a moment or two just to look at the music and listen to the music. And to see, “If this was going on back then, why can’t it happen again?”
Photos and trailer courtesy of Bluegrass Country Soul.
For the final episode of season one of Toy Heart, we have host Tom Power’s 2019 sit down with legendary artist, musician, and sideman Jerry Douglas at the International Bluegrass Music Association’s annual business conference in Raleigh, NC.
Douglas talks all about hearing “Uncle Josh” Graves for the first time with Flatt & Scruggs and, in the early days, using a toothbrush to turn his own guitar into something like a Dobro. He tells stories of his father’s band, the The West Virginia Travellers, and being discovered by the Country Gentlemen. He shares about his lifelong friendship with Ricky Skaggs — and his connections with Tony Rice, J.D. Crowe, Alison Krauss, Ray Charles, to O Brother, and more. Jerry Douglas will go down as one of the finest American musicians of his generation, but for this episode we focus on his true love — his life in bluegrass.
We debuted Tunesday Tuesday in January 2018 for a pretty simple reason. Roots music has a world-class stable of talented pickers, and unlike other more commercial genres, that talent is something of a prerequisite. Whether blues or bluegrass or country or folk, there’s something about American roots music that goes hand in hand with virtuosic playing ability. It’s one of the main reasons BGS loves string band music.
The 20 tunes that advanced to this year’s second-round IBMA ballot in the Instrumental Recording of the Year category showcase a wide range of the talent that draws us to instrumentals, so why not go through a half-dozen of our favorites? Some of these folks have been featured in their own Tunesday Tuesday before, some are newcomers, but two things unite all of them: You’ll be tapping a toe and looking up whether your IBMA membership has lapsed or not after listening to any of the following instrumentals.
“Bish Bash Bosh” – David Benedict
An outlier in this category for more than one reason, mandolinist David Benedict’s “Bish Bash Bosh” is a breath of fresh air thanks to its tender intro, its languid tempo, and the musical wiggle room afforded to the track by each. Fiddler Mike Barnett and IBMA Award-winning veterans Missy Raines (bass) and David Grier (guitar) are each sensitive, empathetic sounding boards for Benedict’s themes, unspooling and embellishing them expertly. More tender-yet-gritty instrumentals in this category going forward, please!
“Big Country” – Gena Britt
Can’t get much more bluegrass than a tune like “Big Country” and Gena Britt’s right hand! The Sister Sadie banjo player’s solo album, Chronicle: Friends and Music, showcases not only her spotlessly crisp, bread-and-butter approach to Scruggs-style banjo, but her singing voice and her sparkly group of musical friends, too. It’s refreshing to hear banjo playing that’s truly unconcerned with ego, while remaining happily in a pretty much traditional lane. If it ain’t broke, after all…
“Princess and the Pea” – The Gina Furtado Project
Two incredible, banjo-playing Ginas/Genas back to back! Gina Furtado’s debut record with her band, the Gina Furtado Project, features this delightfully medieval, fairy tale tune with a more-joyful-than-most minor-key motif. Furtado reminds all of us that her playing contains many more influences than we often assume, with subtle call backs to Tony Rice and John Carlini-tinged eras in bluegrass’s new acoustic circles. Even the tune’s production guides listeners’ ears in this direction. It’s another excellent sonic “ear break” on the ballot.
“Soldier’s Joy” – Jesse McReynolds (Feat. Michael Cleveland)
A Bluegrass Hall of Fame inductee and the oldest living member of the Grand Ole Opry, Jesse McReynolds epitomizes what it means to be a bluegrass legend and forebear — and he’s still picking. On a recording with umpteen-time IBMA Award-winning fiddler Michael Cleveland, McReynolds shows his audience exactly why he deserves every accolade he’s received and more. Given his age (McReynolds will turn 91 this year) and inevitable decline in mobility and dexterity, you’d expect a gracious caveat herein to allow for the recordings “warts” and “raw moments,” but damn if his playing isn’t as clean as ever! An award-winning, award-deserving mandolinist, no doubt.
“Chickens in the House” – Deanie Richardson
That fiddler, educator, and multi-instrumentalist Deanie Richardson does not have an IBMA Award unto herself yet is a true injustice. Also a member of Sister Sadie with Gena Britt, Richardson has been a lifelong presence in bluegrass and fiddle contest scenes around the US, and has toured with Vince Gill, Patty Loveless, Bob Seger, and been house fiddler on the Grand Ole Opry. “Chickens in the House” features some timeless fiddling chicken imitations, as well as a languid backstep feel that clicks up a few BPM as the band goes, so watch your feet should they get to shufflin’ without your say-so.
“Guitar Peace” – Billy Strings
Until snagging his first proper IBMA Awards just last year for Best New Artist and Guitar Player of the Year, flatpicking phenomenon Billy Strings has gone generally underappreciated by voting members. His crowds, his shows, and his fans are extraordinary in bluegrass, jamgrass, and similar communities – the roots music sphere continues to watch his ascent with something like a slack jaw. Though it’s unlikely he’ll dominate this year’s IBMA Awards, this trance, solo acoustic guitar track, “Guitar Peace,” which features a calming, buzzing drone and plenty of Strings’ trademark six-string acrobatics, deserves the nod.
Photo credits: David Benedict by Louise Bichan; Gena Britt courtesy of the artist; Gina Furtado Project by Sandlin Gaither; Jesse McReynolds still; Deanie Richardson by Kerrie Richardson; Billy Strings by Shane Timm.
Welcome to another week of long reads! The BGS archives are simply chocked full of golden content from across the years. So each week we’re sharing our favorite longer, more in-depth articles, stories, and features to help you pass the time. If you haven’t already, follow us on social media [on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram] for our #longreadoftheday picks — and as always, we’ll put them all together right here at the end of each week.
Our long reads this week are bluegrass two by two by two, they’re historic, they’re virtuosic, and they remain unbroken, too. Read more:
Ever since the earliest days of bluegrass and old-time all anyone has ever needed to start a “band” is just two folks, pickin’, singin’, and otherwise. This long read, a delightful collection of twenty-two of the greatest pairs to ever render a number together and call it bluegrass, could easily kill and an entire afternoon or evening — it’s a rabbit hole you’ll want to follow to its end. From Charlie and Bill to Skaggs and Rice and so much more, too. [Check out the full story]
Just about a year ago now, in the afterglow of MerleFest 2019, we published this conversation with Brandi Carlile that we had in Doc Watson’s dressing room backstage at the festival grounds in Wilkesboro, NC. Carlile was about to headline the iconic bluegrass, Americana, and roots festival for the very first time — a somewhat historic occurrence that was not lost on those gathered in the storied main stage green rooms of the thirty-plus-year event. [Read the conversation]
In our interview with singer/songwriter, mandolinist, and multi-instrumentalist Sierra Hull, we dig into the fresh sonic territory she explores on her most recent album, 25 Trips. For the first time, Hull worked with producer Shani Gandhi, who helped shape the album’s diverse production styles — from stripped down tracks with just guitar and vocals, to familiar bluegrass arrangements, to songs with fuller production than those found on Hull’s first four albums. [Read more]
In September of last year, to mark the 30th anniversary of the “Circle 2” album, we had a conversation with Jeff Hanna about how the group was able to issue a follow-up to the first iconic Will the Circle be Unbroken record that somehow recaptured that magic while covering plenty of new ground. We coupled our interview with a special screening of archival footage from the documentary film about the making of Circle 2 at the Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum. [Read the interview on BGS]
Artist:Hot Buttered Rum Hometown: San Francisco, California Latest album:Something Beautiful
What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?
Years ago, we were at Bean Blossom, Indiana. We were a very new band at that point and we played a set in the afternoon. We’d been hanging a bit with Peter Rowan, so he invited us to play in his set that evening. I stepped onstage to find myself next to Tony Rice! I felt completely out of my league, and by every measure, I was. At one point, solos were being passed down the stage. Tony took a ripping solo, of course, and then it was my turn. Yes, I had to take a guitar solo after Tony Rice. The audience was empathetic and gave me a sympathy clap. And Tony said “haw!” — Nat Keefe
What rituals do you have, either in the studio or before a show?
Coffee is very important. Even if I have a set at midnight, 1 a.m. — whenever — I get good coffee in me an hour beforehand. No matter how much I drink before I play, I never have trouble burning through it on stage. I set myself up with a cup and I get my right hand going with the rolls. Caffeine with the left hand, banjo with the right. If I have time to drink that coffee slow enough and play those rolls fast enough, I walk onstage feeling damn near superhuman. — Erik Yates
If you had to write a mission statement for your career, what would it be?
“Give it up.” That’s about it. All the artists I love have their own way of talking about this. When I give, I end up creating so much more, instead of dragging down the next round of work with what I want, whether I’m good enough, whether I’m gonna make as big a splash as my friend or my hero or the new voice on the scene. None of that matters to the damn song. What matters to the song is that it gets made, that it gets out into the world and that other people get to hear it and do what they wanna do with it. Maybe they’ll walk down the aisle to it. Maybe they’ll laugh at it. Maybe they’ll close their eyes and sway back and forth when they hear it. All of that is fine, all of that is welcome. What I want is to give it up, give it away, set it free. — Erik Yates
How often do you hide behind a character in a song or use “you” when it’s actually “me”?
Actually, it’s often the opposite. Early on, my dad challenged me to write songs from different points of view. It’s liberating! You can be an observer, and it’s not always about you and your feelings. A good example of this is my tune, “Desert Rat.” — Nat Keefe
Which elements of nature do you spend the most time with and how do those impact your work?
I’m a mountain person at heart. I think we all are, the band guys. That was how this thing started with us. Since bluegrass is from the old mountains in Appalachia, when we first started writing together we went up as high as we could in the new mountains out West, our Sierra, and listened as closely as we could to what those places were saying. We had this grand idea of making mountain music out here that could reach across time to the mountain music out there, and maybe tickle the Rockies too on its way past. Our best towns have always been mountain towns. This music speaks so well there. — Erik Yates
“Bella and Ivan,” one of two instrumentals on our Artist of the Month Watkins Family Hour’s brand new LP, brother sister, begins with a folky, whirring Vitamix of notes. It’s a frenzied melody, one that allows the siblings’ bluegrass virtuosity to glint like a bright reflection off a sly smile. Sean’s aggressive, Tony Rice attack and the slight Celtic bounce of Sara’s bow are demonstrating that they, too, can accomplish the unlikely complicated ease of the duo’s tight, familial harmonies.
And they do. Ever since the first notes of Nickel Creek’s “Ode to a Butterfly” transformed an entire generation of listeners into bluegrass fans, Sean and Sara Watkins have been giving us these effortless-while-acrobatic instrumentals. Each one reminds us in its own way that no matter how far afield the pair may travel from their genre of origin, they carry it with them still — and can execute any of its aesthetics with immediacy and delightful, mocking aplomb.
Named for a friend’s two dogs who love to wrestle, “Bella and Ivan” isn’t so much rough housing as it is a scripted, choreographed, pro fight. Their interplay is just as exciting to those of us who suspend disbelief as it is to those who don’t; the musical dialogue precariously and joyfully unfolds in a way that refuses to either feel rehearsed or totally off-the-cuff.
In whatever iteration one encounters the music of Sean, Sara, and/or Watkins Family Hour, they’re giving listeners every last ounce of that ethereal “something” that sparked our love for them in the first place. While they constantly reinvent themselves and explore new sonic territories, somehow that “something” remains indelible. It’s just Sean and Sara Watkins.
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