Category Archives: Donald Teplyske

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“They Called It Music” by the Gibson Brothers

The Gibson Brothers
They Called It Music
Compass Records
5 stars (out of 5)

By Donald Teplyske

At a time when select Americana labels seldom release a bluegrass album, Compass Records is coming to the fore as a consistent source of good bluegrass: the Special Consensus, Dale Ann Bradley and Larry Stephenson, of course, but also Peter Rowan, Frank Solivan & Dirty Kitchen, Rebecca Frazier, the Bankesters, and Claire Lynch… the new releases keep coming.

The Gibson Brothers joined the Compass fold a couple albums back, and since that time have rapidly built upon the foundation they established recording with Hay Holler and Sugar Hill. Each of the album’s I’ve heard from the Gibson Brothers has had much to recommend it, but there comes the time where a new album from almost any superior bluegrass band is met with a bit of a shrug. We tend to take our “stars” a bit for granted, expecting every album to be “great,” whatever that means.

Maybe I’m only speaking for myself, but I suspect I’m not.

By near any measure, the Gibson Brothers are at the pinnacle of the bluegrass world. They are the reigning International Bluegrass Music Association Entertainers of the Year, and have picked up a handful of awards from that organization the past three years. At various times, they have topped the most significant bluegrass charts- Bluegrass Unlimited, Bluegrass Today, and Bluegrass Music Profiles.

They Called It Music is pretty darned fabulous. One cannot accuse the Gibsons of resting on their laurels; they continue to push themselves toward producing stronger, more varied music, recording songs that they have spent time uncovering, as well as more than a few they’ve written themselves. The gentler, songwriter-type songs are adroitly mixed with catchier radio numbers, a pair of which—”Buy A Ring, Find a Preacher” and the title track—are frontloaded.

No two songs can be confused, and the album’s closing number, an Eric Gibson composition entitled “Songbird’s Song” is incomparable; transcending bluegrass while strengthening its definition, this one may prove timeless.

There is no mistaking the vocal intensity of the Gibson Brothers, and on They Called It Music the emphasis on harmony is as palatable as ever. Leigh Gibson, the younger brother, has a smooth, pleasing voice while the Eric’s is higher, more piercing and Del-like: lovely, that.

No matter which is singing, it sounds real good. Leigh’s finest of many lead turns may be on a terrific new song from Joe Newberry, “The Darker the Night, the Better I See;” this barstool anthem is pitiful and blue—absolutely beautiful. I was gobsmacked from the moment he sang, “I’ve honky tonked most all my life,  my day begins at the edge of night.”  Leigh also takes the lead on his brother’s “Dusty Old World,” a song that contains the album’s cleverest line: “My heart’s a loyal hound and when love it’s found, it won’t leave your side once its tracked you down.”

Meanwhile, Eric shines when singing Mark Knopfler’s “Daddy’s Gone to Knoxville” and the title track, a song that emphasizes artificial labels are less important than the music itself. Reno & Smiley’s (and the Paisleys’, and Cowboy Copas’)  “Sundown and Sorrow” serves as a fine snippet of what the Gibson Brother’s sound is all about—yesterday’s classic lines within a sleek outfit designed for today.

The duo return to Shawn Camp on this album. Written with Loretta Lynn, “Dying For Someone to Live For” flat out stops time; this one could go on repeat for an hour without bother. As well, with Camp the brothers wrote the reflectively sentimental “Something Comin’ to Me”, a song made more personal to the co-writers with the addition of lyrics in honour of their passed father.

Their band had been stable until the recent departure of Joe Walsh, who plays mandolin throughout this album. Walsh’s contributions to the album are obvious, and I appreciated his playing several times, including on “Dying For Someone To Live For” and his gentle kick-off to “Home On The River.” Fiddler Clayton Campbell lays out sweetness at every opportunity (as on the album’s lead song) while co-producer and bassist Mike Barber appears to be in for life considering how long he’s been part of the family; his exploration of deep tones is much appreciated within “Something Comin’ to Me” and “Home On The River.”

A masterful recording, this eleventh one from The Gibson Brothers. If it ever did, it should no longer matter from which state they originate, or whether their family roots are entwined with Kentucky grass. The Gibson Brothers know bluegrass like few others, and they perform it as enthusiastically and professionally as the finest in the business. Indeed, an argument could be made that, with this album, they demonstrate that they are the finest in the business.

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“1945″ by Brad Mackeson

Brad Mackeson

1945

BradMackeson.com

4 stars (out of 5)

By Donald Teplyske

By the time one arrives at track three of Brad Mackeson’s second album, a substantial journey has already occurred.

“They say love is for gamblers and broken hearted fools,” is the phrase that Mackeson has crafted to open this stunning sliver of perfection entitled “Love Is For Gamblers,” but it isn’t the only memorable statement that goes into this impressively written reflection—”My scenery may change, but I will never forget your name” and “Freely I give my love, you owe me no debt”—each verse contains additional poetic affirmation of his lover’s perfection.

Like the finest songs from Bruce Hornsby, Mackeson’s are full-bodied testimonials, gently revealed.

At 23 years, the Nashville-based songwriter from Portland, Oregon creates songs that he has no business being able to even relate to; his is an expansive view of his surroundings, with infatuation and obsession walking hand-in-hand with love and emotional devastation.

His voice, his phrasing is his own, although one can’t help but hear echoes of Dylan, Springsteen, and Petty within a spare couplet, a harmonica fill, or an extended syllable. “Thousand Drums” could be mistaken for a mind-expanding Mumford & Sons track, catchy and pristine. Thoroughly modern with roots that run through my middle-aged experiences, side one of this collection provides one of the most satisfying listens I’ve experienced in quite some time.

It is bold and complex, fuzzy and ripped with poignancy.

Flip to side two and things are entirely different, and no less acutely satisfying. The rest of the world drops away a bit here, and Mackeson appears more isolated and the music speaks to this altered reality.

“I’m too afraid to check my own reflection…what if I’m not who I want to be?” Mackeson challenges within “Gonna Be Fine;” like George Harrison and Harry Nilsson did for a previous generation—and I don’t know why they popped to mind, but they seem apt—Mackeson frequently creates complexity from simplicity. Side two is more free-wheeling than the first side, with added vocal effects that remind one of psychedelic-influenced performances heard on long ago, late-night radio. None of which interferes with the connection Mackeson has established with his audience.

Danny Schmidt. Joe Pug. Mark Erelli. Lee Harvey Osmond. John K. Sampson. Leeroy Stagger.

If those names are on your iPod, you had best add Brad Mackeson.

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“Next Go ‘Round” by the Blue Canyon Boys

The Blue Canyon Boys
Next Go ‘Round
www.BlueCanyonBoys.com
4½ stars (out of 5)

By Donald Teplyske

Those who have been involved in the bluegrass world for longer than twenty minutes recognize many universal truths. One of these is that our new favorite band is often just one mail delivery away.

Now five discs into their career, the Blue Canyon Boys have only recently come to my attention. I believe they were recommended to me as a band to pursue for a concert booking a few years back, but so were the original Quicksilver, the Osborne Brothers, the Bluegrass Cardinals, and Jimmy Martin; like those, the suggestion didn’t get too far past a polite, and I hope not dismissive, smile. We bluegrass folks also have our fair share of universal regrets. Because, dang me—the Blue Canyon Boys are a group we all should direct some attention toward, and I wish I had listened a little less smugly to the suggestion.

Categorizing the group is relatively pointless, but if forced I would suggest “contemporarily traditional.” The quartet is well-rooted in the sounds of the past, but isn’t afraid to sweeten and broaden their approach with effects (the sampling of seascape sounds that open “Down Along the Cove,” for example), subject matter (the title track, inspired by the realities of drug addiction), and vocal treatments (four-part  a cappella on the album-closing “I Bid You Goodnight.”)

Like any bluegrass band worth extended listening, the Blue Canyon Boys aren’t any one thing. Yes, they appear young, but only when compared to the median age of a blue-haired festival. Yes, they wear suits on stage, but they don’t appear to be doing so with any sense of irony. Yes, they are great musicians, but they also concentrate on ensuring that their vocals are creatively arranged and pointedly executed. Yes, they admire the Country Gentleman (covering “Darling Alalee”), but—well, there is no “but” to that one.

In searching the shelves here in the Bluegrass Bunker, I came across the group’s 2005 debut, Just an Ol’ Dirt Road; apparently banjo-less at the time, the group now features Chris Elliot (Spring Creek) on the 5-string. The Blue Canyon Boys’ sound has developed in the eight years since that album was released—fuller with more drive—but the heart remains consistent: it is all about the song!

The band frontloads this 46-minute offering with original material: five of the first six songs come from within the band. While the majority of the set is comprised of covers, there is neither a measurable difference in the quality of the writing and presentation nor a feeling that one has “heard” all of this before elsewhere.

There is honky-tonk swing plainly evident within “Heartaches Welcome” (“The sign said, ‘Heartaches Welcome’ as I walked in that barroom…”), and that theme nicely complements a rendition of Buck Owens and Don Rich’s “Before You Go,” which is kicked into overdrive by the 5. Both sung by Gary Dark (mandolin), the songs reveal the country influences of these Colorado-based bluegrassers.

Equally “hard country” is Jason Hicks’ own “Like a Heart That’s Grown Weary of the Blues;” that one is pure lonesome. “Going Up,” is borrowed from the Gosdin Brothers, while the brothers Stanley give them “Nobody’s Love is Like Mine” and “Harbor of Love,” although Drew Garrett (producer, bass) notes they learned the latter from the Bray Brothers. In these years following “the year of Bill Monroe,” an interpretation of “Sitting Alone in the Moonlight” remains particularly welcome, while Flatt & Scruggs and the Foggy Mountain Boys have their “Roustabout” taken for a twirl.

Not that it is a competition, but I found myself repeatedly drawn to the songs of Jason Hicks. His “Down in the Misery” utilizes working in a mine as a metaphor for life’s challenges, while the “final wishes” of  “Up On the Hill” are rich in imagery, and the harmony vocals are killer—a brave choice for an album opening track.

With Next Go ‘Round, the Blue Canyon Boys have most assuredly earned my attention. Highly recommended.

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“The Farthest Horizon” by the Sleepy Man Banjo Boys

Sleepy Man Banjo Boys
The Farthest Horizon
www.SleepyManBanjo.com
2 stars (out of 5)

By Donald Teplyske

Straight up—I don’t get it.

Unless I’ve had a relationship with them—family members and friends, students I’ve taught—I’ve never been into hearing kids play music for my own aesthetic enjoyment. I’ve often stated that I don’t believe anyone should record before their 18th birthday.
I’ve felt that way about every 12-year old country singer I’ve seen in too short shorts and too much makeup on a county fair stage. I’m reminded of it each time I witness a teenager performing a ‘tweener at a folk festival. Hell, I felt that way about Chris Thile and Nickel Creek, as good as they were, and the Abrams Brothers did nothing to dissuade me of this unpopular opinion.  I’ve been justified in holding this narrow-minded attitude a hundred times, not the least of which was when I finally saw and heard Cherryholmes live.

I know it isn’t logical, and I realize it is patently unfair and close-minded. And I understand that I’ve likely missed some good music because of my staunch, codgerly ‘rule.’

When the Sleepy Man Banjo Boys—New Jersey brothers Jonny (10), Robbie (13) and Tommy Mizzone (14)—started making the rounds a year or so ago, I completely ignored them.

I didn’t tune in to see them on Letterman. I didn’t go searching for them on YouTube. Again, I didn’t care. When the phenomenon didn’t fade away like farmers doing “Gangnam Style” parodies, and I was assigned this album, I did at least look at some of the clips and did a little reading. Who am I to argue with J.D. Crowe, Andy Leftwich (who plays mandolin throughout this album), Mountain Heart, and Pete Wernick?

I still don’t get it.

I accept that they are kids, and their hearts are in the right place. I trust that the parents are not living their dreams vicariously through offspring, and that the boys are doing this because they want to. And I understand the novelty.

I’ve listened to The Farthest Horizon likely a dozen times. The tunes make pleasant background music. But I hear nothing—including Leftwich’s mando contributions, because they don’t stand out—that I couldn’t hear at any decent bluegrass jam or local festival. It isn’t bad, not by any means. The instrumentals sound fine. The music sounds good, and I suppose that should be ‘good enough.’

What I don’t hear is ‘life.’ The instances where Ashley Lilly, granddaughter of bluegrass pioneer Everett Lilly, sings are interesting from that perspective, but underwhelming except to give my ‘rule’ additional merit. I can’t argue that the trio of brothers from New Jersey doesn’t have musical talent, because they obviously do. Guitarist Tommy Mizzone seems to have a style I might enjoy in the future.

I’ve certainly heard more skilled versions of “Gold Rush” and “Shuckin’ the Corn.” Their original instrumentals don’t stand out; only a single one has stayed with me longer than the time it took to play. “The Man from Danville,” obviously inspired by the playing of Tony Rice, is memorable, but not necessarily remarkable. The lyrics to “Always the One” read like they were discovered scribbled onto a middle-schooler’s notebook.

At the outset, I admitted that I don’t get it. But if you don’t hold child musicians to the same standard as adult professionals and can enjoy them on that level, you will find something good here.

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“Last Train from Poor Valley” by Richard Bennett

Richard Bennett
Last Train from Poor Valley
Lonesome Day Records
4.5 stars (out of 5)

By Donald Teplyske

Danny Barnes. Wayne Taylor. Richard Bennett.

Three performers with little connecting them beyond there being another professional musician with the same name making music.

Namefellowship aside, this Richard Bennett is the bluegrass guitarist, not the Mark Knopfler (and Steve Earle, Emmylou Harris, Cherry Bomb, and Neil Diamond, etc.) sideman. Well-established for more than three decades in the bluegrass big leagues, Bennett has worked with J.D. Crowe in the New South, Lou Reid in Carolina, and as a sideman for many artists. He has previously recorded solo albums for Rebel Records, one of which—A Long Lonesome Time—is in this writer’s opinion, one of the finest albums heard from the late ‘90s.

A dozen years ago, in my first review for Bluegrass Now magazine, I wrote about the Auldridge, Bennett, and Gaudreau album Blue Lonesome Wind, and within that piece stated that “the pearl which glistens most true [ouch, that hurts! And how did it ever pass by the editor?] is Richard Bennett’s home spun vocals, which, at times, are vaguely reminiscent of Gordon Lightfoot…without a splash of false showmanship.” In the years since, nothing has changed: Bennett’s voice remains pure and strong, woven through years of singing folk-influenced bluegrass music.

Featuring an instrumental and vocal cohort of bluegrass veterans—Rickie Simpkins (fiddle), Crowe (5-string), Ron Stewart (fiddle, banjo, mandolin), Harold Nixon and Joe Sharpe (bass), Shayne Bartley (mandolin), and even bluegrass Danny Barnes (mandolin)—Bennett has created an album that lacks the bluegrass bite some of us find most attractive, yet is thoroughly enjoyable as a cracking collection of largely country and folk to MOR standards given gentle acoustic folk-laden, bluegrass treatments.

Several songs standout amongst this set. “The Ballad of Jesse James,” a song written by Barry Metcalf I’ve not previously encountered, features exceptionally clean guitar lines from Bennett. Bennett’s original “Roan Mountain Rag,” resurrected from 1997′s Walking Down the Line, is given a slightly extended treatment herein. Lightfoot’s 1972 classic “Don Quixote” features some lovely fiddle flourishes as Bennett gives the song a “just right” vocal treatment.

The moments that most strongly bluegrass are contained in numbers including the country standard “Wrong Road Again,” the traditional “Handsome Molly,” and Merle Haggard’s “Working Man Blues.”

The album proper closes with Bennett performing “Tennessee Waltz,” and reminds one of why his name is so often mentioned alongside Tony Rice’s. The “one-take” bonus track “Leavin’s Heavy On My Mind” stands up to everything contained on the album.

I’m not sure I needed to hear new renditions of “I’m Thinking Tonight of My Blue Eyes” and “Georgia On My Mind,” but other listeners—and obviously Bennett—may feel differently. Another oft-recorded chestnut, John Hartford’s “Gentle On My Mind” is always a pleasure to hear, and this interpretation is simply stunning; again, Bennett’s voice and guitar sounds are the stars, but everything within this take, down to the bass playing, sounds absolutely ideal.

Last Train from Poor Valley, named after the Norman Blake song, is an album that should appeal to all bluegrass listeners and most Americana and traditional-leaning country fans. If you appreciated Home From the Mills from Jimmy Gaudreau and Moondi Klein last year, or Cahalen Morrison and Eli West’s Our Lady of the Tall Trees, you are sure to enjoy exploring the latest from Richard Bennett.

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“El Rancho Azul” by Dale Watson

Dale Watson

El Rancho Azul

Red House Records

4 stars (out of 5)

By Donald Teplyske

Whether singing honky-tonk originals, neo-western swing, Memphis-Sun injected, early-rock-influenced hillbilly music, drinking songs, dreaming ones, or rig driving anthems, Dale Watson sings Country; like Dallas Wayne, Billy Don Burns, and a thousand others going back to Tony Booth, Bobby Austin, Dick Curless, and further, country runs through his veins and colours his life.

Fresh from a recent Sun Records focus (The Sun Sessions and the recently unveiled and equally enjoyable Dalevis) and taking a stab at Blake Shelton’s lack of vision (“Old Fart, A Song for Blake”, available on iTunes), Dale Watson hasn’t changed a lot from the first time we heard him sing  “Cheatin’ Heart Attack” two decades ago.

Had Watson scored even a minor chart hit along the way, things might be different; forced to do things fairly independently, Watson has chosen to stay close to his roots (and their principles) over the course of some twenty albums. He never caught the Nashville rash, and wasn’t afraid to call ‘em out if he thought something was less than justified (“Country My Ass.”)

El Rancho Azul is comprised of 14 Watson originals, according to the record label  “the honkiest tonkiest album” of his career. Measuring such would be difficult, but Red House won’t get an argument from me.

Never one to mince words, Watson has consistently demonstrated that he can build a solid song around a clever turn of phrase, occasionally elevating his songs to greatness. “Where Do You Want It”  and “Thanks To Tequila” are built around memorable catch phrases, and while enjoyable don’t reach the comparable standard of Watson’s best songs.  “Cowboy Boots,” an ode to dancin’ women, also falls into this category.

“I Drink to Remember” fares better; the lyrics unfold like a Capitol Haggard cut—I believe there is even a subtle vocal nod to Merle within the chorus at 0:51—and the pedal steel of Don Pawlak combines with Watson’s guitar for a unadulterated ’60s California country sound. “We’re Gonna Get Married” and “Daughter’s Wedding Song” are thematically independent of each other in their approach to nuptials, but each successfully accomplishes its intent. The first is filled with good-natured frivolousness, while the second conveys matters from the father’s point of view; complete with recitation, this is another song that could have appeared on Pride In What I Am or Hag.

I’m not sure what Watson’s motivation was in writing, recording, and then sequencing two songs that are so similar (and yet, different) as “Quick Quick Slow Slow” (about a couple’s hesitant first dance) and “Slow Quick Quick”  (about a different couple’s only slightly less hesitant first dance), but they work, as single tracks and one-after-the-other. Not afraid of redundancy (on his 1995 debut, Watson recorded “Wine Wine Wine” which was outdone on last year’s The Sun Sessions by “Down Down Down Down Down), here we have “Drink Drink Drink” which is about about what you figure.

Through it all, Watson and his Lonestars—which include, in addition to Pawlak, Chris Crepps on upright bass and Danny Levin on fiddle and piano—sound like they are quite simply having a time playing these songs. A true original, Watson appears not to give a rip about being original. Some will criticize his music for being a throwback, even derivative perhaps.

This week I’ve listened to six or eight Watson discs. El Rancho Azul stands with his best. Either you like it or you don’t; if you like country music, I can’t understand not liking it.

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Lonesome Road Review’s Best of 2012

Five-star reviews:

“All In” by the Boxcars

“Outshine the Sun” by Foghorn Stringband

“Life Finds a Way” by the Grascals

“Life Goes On” by Musicians Against Childhood Cancer

“Papertown” by Balsam Range

 

Other notable releases:

“Hard Country” by Audie Blaylock & Redline

“Heart of the Country” by Chris Brashear

“The Gospel Side of Dailey & Vincent” by Dailey & Vincent

“Home from the Mills” by Jimmy Gaudreau & Moondi Klein

“Sing Me a Song About Jesus” by Doyle Lawson & Quicksilver

“They’re Playing My Song” by Joe Mullins & the Radio Ramblers

“New Bluegrass & Old Heartaches” by Bobby Osborne & the Rocky Top X-Press

“Road Into Town” by Danny Paisley & Southern Grass

“The Old Home Place Ain’t the Same Anymore” by Jussi Syren and the Groundbreakers

 

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“Heart of the Country” by Chris Brashear

Chris Brashear
Heart of the Country
www.ChrisBrashear.info
4.5 stars (out of 5)

By Donald Teplyske

If asked, I would answer that Chris Brashear is one of my favourite singers, instrumentalists, and songwriters. If pressed, I would admit I haven’t pulled his albums off the shelf in years.

That is (one of) the problem with the way things are when you write about music. You discover wonderful albums such as Canyoneers by Chris and friend Peter McLaughlin, and fall for every note, each tone heard, while listening over and over again. Then you write about it, put it on the shelf, and then get lost in ‘the next project’ as assigned, rarely if ever returning to the magic of the previous recording. I’m sure I have their So Long Arizona recording, but dang if I can lay hands on it.

Similarly, and around the same time as 2003′s Canyoneers was released on Copper Creek, when Rebel released Perfect Strangers, the self-titled album from the band featuring Brashear, McLaughlin, Bob Black, Jody Stecher, and the late Forrest Rose, I fell for it. Hard. I loved what they did with songs new and old. Again, I would tell you it is one of my favourite bluegrass albums, but I haven’t had a chance to listen to it in two or three years.

About the only place I’ve recently heard Brashear is when listening to the most recent Robin and Linda Williams album as he is a member of their Fine Group.

Therefore, when Heart of the Country came my way last month, I was excited to have another opportunity to listen to the smooth-voiced artist who comfortably bridges performances within the folk, country, and bluegrass worlds. Americana was named for artists like Chris Brashear.

I wasn’t sent the album package, so I don’t have access to the complete liner notes. Unfortunate, that, but I’ll stumble around a bit and hopefully still get to the point. The album is comprised of thirteen songs, and I’ve learned nine of them are originals. After a bit of time with All Music and Google, I’ve narrowed them down.

Going in, I knew “Mama’s Opry” as an Iris DeMent classic (Heart of the Country is produced by Jim Rooney, who also produced the album from which “Mama’s Opry” is culled). Ditto, “Silvery Colorado” comes from the Carter Family. It didn’t take long for me to realize that I knew the song “How Could I Explain;” placing it took a bit longer, but All Music helped me out: Junior Sisk recorded this one on his first Rebel Ramblers Choice album, and I also found it on Del McCoury’s High on A Mountain Rounder disc. Dick Staber wrote it. When it came down to it, I really needed help to identify that “Green Summertime” was recorded and written by the Williamses; I don’t have the album on which it appears.

As good as those performances are, and trust me they are, it is on the originals that Brashear best shines. “Time the Perfect Stranger” is a tune that marks the passing of time, and friends, like few others. This one has a bit of bluegrass in it, especially around the harmonies; I’m pretty sure I can hear Tim O’Brien in the vocal mix. O’Brien, Mike Compton, Todd Phillips, and Al Perkins are given musician credits for the album;  not sure who is playing where, but the entire album certainly has an O’Brien feel to it—never too far from the ‘grass, never too close to folky self-indulgence.

Within an album of terrific moments, “Today I Saw the Longest Train” stands out. Reminiscent of the finest Guy Clark songs—ones that give proper weight to but a few seconds in a person’s life—this Brashear composition is destined to be recorded by others. The guitar touches, presumably by Chris, are delicate notes that frame a memory that will be “forever on my mind.” “This Oregon Country” brings the bluegrass a little closer, as does “Tell All My Pickin’ Friends Goodbye;” this final tune includes several allusions to jamming favourites.

Within my reading I found a quote from Rooney that stated that Brashear sings in the “honest tradition of Carter Stanley and Maybelle Carter.” I’m not sure what that means, but it seems to fit: I’d add Iris DeMent and Tim O’Brien to that description to make it more pertinent, but I’m not gonna tell Jim Rooney what to think.

I’m glad Brashear had that guts to record “Mama’s Opry,” a song whose definitive performance I suspect will always be its original. But for a song to become ‘folk,’ to become part of the social and musical fabric, it must be recorded by others. Perkins’ pedal steel provides mood to “Green Summertime,” a song that combines images into a sense of place universally identifiable. Chris’ daughter Hollis effectively shares “How Can I Explain;” the song benefits greatly from this duet treatment.

Listening to “Heart of the Country” several times this past month, and a couple more times today, has been completely enjoyable. I appreciate it for what it is—simple, direct music that speaks to and from the soul. Nothing flashy, flamboyant, or obviously contrived.

Now, to give Canyoneers and Perfect Strangers a listen before the next albums for review arrive…

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“True Bluegrass Banjo” and “True Bluegrass Fiddle” by Various Artists on Rebel Records

Various Artists
True Bluegrass Banjo
True Bluegrass Fiddle
Rebel Records
3.5 stars (out of 5)

By Donald Teplyske

I’ve long fantasized about hanging out at the Rebel Records headquarters and being given full access to the label’s vaults and filing cabinets. I envision spending several days wandering the aisles, perusing shelves of archived material, listening to snatches of studio chatter captured between takes and reviewing rare documents itemizing the sessions of the masters of bluegrass.

Sometime during my stay, Mr. Freeman would recognize my passion and insight into this music and ask me to come on staff, perhaps to facilitate the development and enhancement of their vast catalog of recordings into a series of reissues and compilations. I would be put in charge of refreshing releases from the vast history of Rebel Records, assembling the ‘just right’ collection of standards and forgotten gems into premium releases that advance the music for the next generation of listeners, housed in elaborate packaging taking advantage of the array of photos from during historical recording dates while ignoring the financial constraints of the current music market.

But, like most of my other fantasies, this one isn’t likely to come to fruition. I need to accept my lot and simply enjoy Rebel compilations as assembled by others. This latest pairing includes a total of 36 banjo- and fiddle-focused instrumentals spread across two individually available and budget-priced albums.

It is hard to muster any type of negative argument toward these sets. True, the packaging and notes are (unfortunately) kept to a minimum with little more than song title and performer information provided. No details about the source of each track or who is playing what are included. Still, for sets selling at $9 and less, the lack of this information is an acceptable compromise.

What matters then is the music, and the stuff included herein is tough to beat: Sonny Osborne laying down “Banjo Boy Chimes;” Kenny Baker and Joe Greene fiddlin’ “High Country;” J.D. Crowe delivering “Black Jack;” Glen Duncan exploring “Williamsburg;” Ralph Stanley and the “Clinch Mountain Backstep.” Classic stuff.

You have the fiddling standards- “Leather Britches” (Curly Ray Cline), “St. Anne’s Reel” (Johnny Warren), “Scotland” (Bobby Hicks), and “Dusty Miller” (Joe Greene)- as well as some lesser known tunes. Art Stamper, James Price, Chubby Anthony and others have tracks included on True Bluegrass Fiddle.

The companion banjo disc is similarly chock-a-block with priceless and memorable takes: Bill Emerson’s “Sweet Dixie,” Alan Munde’s “Cotton Patch Rag,” “Knee Deep in the Bluegrass” from Terry Baucom, and Sammy Shelor’s “Daddy’s Dream.” Also represented are Jimmy Arnold, Don Reno & Eddie Adcock, and Ned Luberecki as well as additional tunes from Stanley, Crowe, and Emerson.

As introductions to bluegrass banjo and fiddle-—and what Rebel has offered over the years in this regard—these two sets provide quality music at an attractive price.

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“Pa’s Fiddle: Charles Ingalls, American Fiddler” by Various Artists

Various Artists
Pa’s Fiddle: Charles Ingalls, American Fiddler
Thirty Tigers
4 stars (out of 5)

By Donald Teplyske

As a child through the 1970s, I was raised with the Little House on the Prairie television series. When I discovered the public library  during the summer between grades four and five, among the dozens of books I devoured were Laura Ingalls Wilder’s Little House series. In the years since, and despite the contextual racism and other challenges presented by the novels, both overt and subtle, they remain favorites; without doubt Little House in the Big Woods remains one of the coziest novels to read on cold winter evenings. Further, for years I have hoped to visit Mansfield, Missouri and the Laura Ingalls Wilder Historic Home and Museum, and this coming spring it just may finally happen.

Therefore, I come to this set predisposed to positivity.

When I reviewed a previous volume (The Arkansas Traveler) in this continuing series several years ago, I was tremendously impressed by how song titles carelessly skimmed over while reading as a youth brought to life memories of the novels. That album, while serving as a historical retrospective, was a dang fine listen. With Pa’s fiddle at its heart, it was not surprising that the old-time music collected therein prominently featured fiddle—lively and light, then mournful and introspective.

Unlike that previous set, which featured masterful vocal performances from the likes of John Cowan, Elizabeth Cook, Andrea Zonn, and Jeff Black, Pa’s Fiddle: Charles Ingalls, American Fiddler is an album of instrumentals. As before, Matt Combs ably handles the fiddling. Missed here are the contributions of Butch Baldassari, in who’s memory the album is dedicated. As Pa’s Fiddle Band, the musicians bringing these songs to life include familiar bluegrassers Shad Cobb (banjo), Dennis Crouch (bass), Matt Flinner (mandolin) Bryan Sutton (guitar) as well as Buddy Greene (harmonica) and Jeff Taylor (accordion, pennywhistle, and piano).

Sure to be enjoyed by all fans of old-timey sounds, this latest volume sounds a bit more “uptown” than the previous set. The arrangements are more refined with the full-band presenting a less rustic interpretation of the tunes. Perhaps the tunes, including a personal favorite, the spritely picked “The Yellow Heifer,” received interpretations such as those included here in the 19th century, but I wouldn’t bet on it. These, therefore, are not faithful reproductions of the music heard by Laura, Mary, and the clan, but rather relatively modern interpretations of a selection of tunes mentioned throughout the Little House series.

The performances are dynamic and fully enjoyable. The doleful sounding “Golden Years are Passing By,” played by Bryan Sutton, causes one to reflect on passing days while the full-band reprise of the tune intensifies the ache into something even more pensive. The old fiddle tune “Polly Put the Kettle On”, featuring Joe Weed on fiddle, is closer in spirit to what I ‘hear’ when reading the novels. Some tunes bring a religious element, omnipresent within the Little House series, including “My Sabbath Home” and “Jesus Holds My Hand.”

The song notes of Dale Cockrell, which places each tune within both historical and Little House contexts, are superb, concise and interesting.

There are but two elements of the album that give me pause.

There first is simply a matter of preference. If these recordings are built on the legacy of Wilder’s writing, I do wonder why the songs are presented as ‘band’ recordings as Pa usually played unaccompanied. While I very much appreciate the performances contained within Pa’s Fiddle: Charles Ingalls, American Fiddler, when listening I don’t strongly hear Wilder’s sense of place or voice.

My second hesitation around the project concerns the stated intent of this recording is to “place [Charles Ingalls] among the first rank of old-time fiddlers whose music is foundational to so much in American music.” This goal seems to be revisionist to my wee historical brain. While Ingalls’ playing is woven throughout the Little House novels, it seems to me that that was the limit of his influence.

I am willing to be corrected, but in my admittedly limited reading of fiddle playing in American history, the name Charles Ingalls isn’t prominent. I might suggest, as is hinted in Cockrell’s notes, that Ingalls’ influence didn’t extend past his family and immediate circle, and as such he is simply one of likely thousands of fiddle players whose music informed and entertained his family, but didn’t have historical relevance; the difference being, of course, that their daughters didn’t write about the experiences as widely as did his.

Quibbling aside, Pa’s Fiddle: Charles Ingalls, American Fiddler is a very enjoyable, supremely played collection of songs that further illuminate the importance of the Little House series in our understanding of American history and the place music serves within it. And, it is a dang fine listen.