Simon Chrisman & Wes Corbett, ‘Jane’s Reel’

During Flatt and Scruggs’ iconic At Carnegie Hall! performance Lester brought Earl and fiddler Paul Warren up to the mic for their fiddle/banjo feature with this introduction: “It hadn’t been too many years ago since just a five-string banjo and the fiddle was kinda called a band…” The banjo has always lent itself to these kinds of duo configurations. Fiddle/banjo is certainly the most familiar in American roots music, but banjo/bass is not uncommon — earlier on during At Carnegie Hall! bassist “Cousin Jake” Turlock got his turn dueting with Earl, too. There’s also banjo and accordion (hold your jokes, please) and even double banjo. From Ireland to New Orleans to Appalachia there’s no shortage of variations on the template of banjo plus fill-in-the-blank.

Banjo and hammered dulcimer is a much more infrequent combo. On their self-titled album Simon Chrisman (The Bee Eaters) and Wes Corbett (Molly Tuttle, Joy Kills Sorrow) make a compelling case for its immortalization in the old-time and bluegrass zeitgeist. Both Chrisman and Corbett effortlessly transcend their instruments, stepping well outside the stylistic and musical constraints that one might assume are nonnegotiable. “Jane’s Reel” — named for Corbett’s alluring cat — might cause serious injury if you were to attempt to dance a reel to it, given its breakneck speed and unpredictable twists and turns. The album does have its expected chamber music-influenced moments, peppered among more meditative pieces and a couple of sweetly sentimental songs, but “Jane’s Reel” demonstrates that Chrisman & Corbett aren’t willing to let this record be filed under “interesting acoustic background music.” It demands and deserves full attention.

Alfi, “Farewell to Trion”

Irish music as a genre tends to conjure images of dozens of step dancers clopping on stage in unison with curls bouncing, or dashing jigs and reels perfect for a night of revelry, or moody ballads with a thousand verses, or drunken sing-alongs with choruses full of nonsense words. A layperson might assume that Irish music doesn’t necessitate nuance beyond perhaps the melodramatic story songs, but that assumption does an incredible disservice to the depth and breadth of emotion and detail that runs through Ireland’s vernacular music.

Alfi, a string band equally comfortable with Irish traditional material and American old-time, demonstrate the stunning, understated beauty of this nuance on their rendering of “Farewell to Trion,” an old-time tune from the U.S. side of the pond. The tempo is relaxed, the reharmonizations are modern, yet timeless, and the form rolls by a handful of times without ever becoming stale or boring — a remarkable feat. Beneath the surface of banjo (Ryan McAuley) and whistle (Fiachra Meek), artfully teasing the melody at its edges, are the hands of Alannah Thornburgh on harp, not only plucking along with the tune, but comping as deftly and expertly as any firecracker Irish rhythm guitarist, morphing the standard chord progression at her will and whimsy. “Farewell to Trion” is worth a second and third listen if only to train our ears and brain to focus in on the mind-blowing magic happening at the fingertips of Thornburgh’s left hand. Here, it’s pretty clear to see that there’s much more to Irish music than just pomp, showmanship, drinking songs, and curly wigs. And there’s beauty to love in all of the above.