Joe Stippich-Mandolin Maker

Let me introduce you to fellow Indian Valley resident Joe Stippich. Joe & his wife Sharon live on a ranch at the far southern end of Indian Valley—“across town” from us so to speak, tho most of the town consists of pastureland & rangeland. Indian Valley doesn’t have a very big population (it takes up the equivalent of one page in the phone book), but that population is dispersed over a lot of land.

Anyway: we know the Stippichs as fellow musicians & as students. Joe takes upright bass lessons with Eberle; Sharon takes guitar lessons with me, & she also plays fiddle & mandolin, & plays in a couple of local bands—the Jammers & Council Mountain Bluegrass. Joe also has played with the Jammers. Their daughters, Jenny & Missy are both very accomplished fiddle players; Jenny plays with a wonderful Twin Falls-based bluegrass band called Strings Attached.

Given that music is so much a part of the Stippich’s life, perhaps it’s not surprising that Joe would turn to instrument making; after all, he’s an accomplished woodworker whose workshop is located right above a music room filled with fiddles & guitars & mandolins & an upright bass & a cello. Yet, when I asked him about the decision to make mandolins last week during a thoroughly enjoyable but very freeform 90-minute interview, he couldn’t say exactly why he’d turned his hand in this direction. Why mandolins, & not fiddles or guitars, for instance?

“Haven’t yet figured out why I build mandolins instead of guitars—I think guitars would be easier because they’re bigger.” Joe told me, & then he discussed his old friend, local mandolin whiz, Hank Daniels who passed away a few years back. “Hank influenced me, & he did give me some wood. But he was the person who really gave my wife & my kids the support that they needed to keep going without giving up on music. He was a mandolin player, & he was good to me, absolutely, positively good to me, & my wife & my kids, so he influenced me, I guess.” Joe went on to point out that “If I didn’t have friends I wouldn’t have anything to make anything out of,” mentioning not only the wood Mr Daniels gave him, but also showing off some sycamore, black walnut, butternut, beautifully figured maple, & myrtle wood all of which he’ll use to make mandolin backs. He even dumped out a rather large potato sack full of cow bones, which are also earmarked for his mandolins.

Cow bone? Well, Joe admits he hasn’t used cow bone yet—in fact, his bridge inlays to date have been made either with moose bone or elk bone (my mandolin has an elk bone inlaid bridge). Joe told me, “the harder the bone the better,” because he believes the harder bone will be a better transmitter down to the soundboard. Joe also mentioned that he believes the type of adjustable bridges often found on mandolins & other archtop instruments impede the sound transmission—being neither a luthier nor a physicist myself, I’d have to say there is a lot of logic in Joe’s theory on this. In any case, Joe hasn’t used adjustable bridges & it doesn’t sound like he’s about to start any time soon.

During my talk with Joe I kept returning to the thought that here was a man who brought a lot of thought & common sense to bear in his fledgling mandolin luthiery. He’s also a keen listener & a keen student. Joe said, “I listen to people & talk to people all the time. I try to learn everything I can from everybody. I’ve talked to every fiddle maker I could find & every mandolin player I could find.” His goal is simple, but ambitious—to make good sounding & good playing instruments.

I can tell you Joe has succeeded admirably in this. I’ve been lucky enough to test-drive every one of the 10 mandolins he’s made so far, & I’ve enjoyed every one; Eberle has also played all or at least most of them, & she agrees. Eberle puts it very straightforwardly—“I love the bright but mellow tone, & they just feel good under your fingers; & they’re beautiful.” A while back, Joe entrusted me with what I believe was Stippich #8, an A-model (or “teardrop”) mandolin with a round sound hole (as opposed to f-holes). Joe was hoping I could interest some players in the McCall area in this instrument, & I was sure I could. On the other hand, every time I played it, I thought, “There’s no way I’ll ever get a mandolin this good for the amount of money Joe is charging” (the latter info won’t be made public here—in Joe’s interest, because I believe he undercharges), but I’d tell myself I had enough to do with the instruments I already owned. Of course, at a certain point, my will buckled & the rest is, so to speak, history.

Joe’s mandolins are all made with spruce soundboards & hardwood backs. His supply of spruce comes from the McCall, ID area, from about 8,000 feet in elevation. The soundboard on mine is Englemann spruce, & it has a lovely clear tone. The back on mine is maple that Joe came across in one of those lucky strikes for the inveterate wood salvager—he was given some felled maple logs that had been in a service station parking lot for some time. He was originally going to use the wood for a workbench, but decided it was “too pretty” for that; Joe said, “It’s about the prettiest wood I’ve ever seen,” & despite growing up with a cabinetmaker father who also had stashes of beautiful old hardwood, I’d have to agree. Joe also mentioned that he likes to use older wood whenever he can—he’s currently working with some Philippine mahogany salvaged from an 80 year old house; “I think age has a lot to do with the acoustics,” said Joe.

Some other specs: Joe only uses hide glue, & uses ironwood for the bridge. He’s used ironwood for the fretboards, but is currently working with an apple wood fretboard (his first attempt at a radiused, or slightly curved fretboard) & plans on experimenting with mesquite in the future. All of his instruments have binding—he went in to some detail about who he uses a Dremel tool to rout the sides to accept the binding); his wife Sharon helps with the binding process —& he also equips his instruments with Grover tuners (for those who don’t know—these are nice). His mandolins had come equipped with Martin truss rods for stabilizing the neck, but he’s currently experimenting with carbon fiber rods, which are much lighter but extremely strong—it passed the Hayes’ bending test, not that this proves as much as it would have some years ago. Joe also has had a personalized tailpiece made with both the name Stippich & the ranch brand; he’s put these on the last few he’s made, including the one I bought!

Joe’s workshop (despite his protests to the contrary) was shipshape & didn’t sport a whole lot of superfluous items: he has a good-sized Jet band saw, a Delta scroll saw (which he uses to cut the f-holes), a bench-top drill press, a belt sander, a grinder & a bending tool for shaping the sides (the table saw, a radial arm saw & a planer are located in the garage). There are some specialty tools, such as fret files, & there are a number of planes—Joe has a true woodworker’s love of the plane, & he showed me the two he uses for carving the tops & backs, a block plane & a convex-soled finger plane. The latter is really small, but Joe really swore by it. Needless to say, the carving involved is fine & meticulous: the tops are graduated from .0091 thick at the edge to .0170 in the middle. Joe says it takes him about two days to build a top.

There’s a good supply of vises & clamps—& clothespins to hold the kerfed strips inside the soundbox when they’re glued!—& jigs for determining carving depth & for cutting the kerfs. Joe said, “The better everything fits down the road, it’s going to fit better, sound better.” This is fit & finish, & it’s what most good woodworkers, especially ones who’ve been doing it for so long, know. Because tho Joe’s only been making mandolins for a few years, he estimates that he’s been woodworking for about 40 years, noting, “When I got married I started remodeling that old house I bought. That was quite a thing. I started with a handsaw & a hammer & a screwdriver I think.”

Fit & finish. The finish on Joe’s mandolin is a classic: “I use shellac for a finish, period. All the old people recommend it, & the more I read now, we’re gradually going back to shellac for a finish because it’s better for the acoustics. Shellac is pretty easy to use, & it’s pretty forgiving. I try not to put it on too thick—everything goes on in such thin layers—almost microscopic.” Joe has been experimenting with mixing in small amounts of seed lac, the raw form of shellac, to give a slightly darker cast. Those who aren’t familiar with the rather witchy material called shellac (completely organic—it comes from insects!) can find more info here.

Joe is the real deal as a woodworker—tho I was never much more than a duffer myself, my Dad also was a talented woodworker, & I recognize the same traits—the eye for detail, the kind of mind that can tackle material problems & find creative solutions, the eye for grains & surfaces. & of course, like any good woodworker, Joe stresses one point in particular: “I know one thing—you gotta keep your tools sharp.”

Finally, I wanted you to hear what one of Joe’s creations sounds like, & so I created the following slideshow with background music by my Stippich mandolin as played by me. I must caution you that, as a mandolin player, I’m a pretty good guitarist, so blame me, not the instrument, if anything sounds amiss! The audio is yours truly playing an old British Isles jig called “Bolt the Door” (AKA “Jack’s Health”)—I picked a faster number simply because my mandolin tremolo is a bit sketchy & you don’t need to tremolo on fast tunes! The slideshow itself has more photos of Joe & his workshop & his mandolins (especially the one I’m playing) for your enjoyment.

Musical Questions – John Hayes

OK, it’s me, wearing my “guest musician” hat. A quick note on the clip at the bottom of the post—it’s a version of the traditional tune “The Cuckoo” that I recorded in 2007 while testing out some new recording equipment. Hope you enjoy it. Also: I’m expecting some more interviews back from other musicians, so there will be more posts in the Musical Questions series; please stay tuned.

My musical career in a nutshell: Played piano from age 8 on; had relatively brief childhood experiences with the sousaphone, the saxophone & the soprano recorder; more or less stopped playing music in any systematic way about age 18, but played piano recreationally from time to time while plying the poetic trade. Took up guitar, which led to banjo & uke; played music with my wife, Eberle Umbach, & Lois Fry for McCall-Donnelly Drama Troupe theatrical productions; was part of forming the Alice in Wonder Band in 02 with several wonderful musicians; played in The Blue Notes, a piano-bass-drum trio with Bill Shore & Eberle— also spent time playing electric bass while wearing a tux in the Tyler Vance Band, playing at McCall area resorts; Eberle & I later performed as a duet: Five & Dime Jazz. We played at weddings, parties, other functions, recorded soundtracks for Alpine Playhouse theatrical productions, & had a weekly restaurant gig for some time. As the Bijou Orchestrette, Eberle & I began composing & playing music for silent films (two Nell Shipman films: Back to God’s Country & The Grub Stake); The Grub Stake score was commissioned by the Idaho Film Collection in 05, & our recording of our score provides the soundtrack for this film on their DVD collection of all Shipman’s extant films (we’re on vol. 3). Also, Eberle & I have also been proud Northwest members of Chris Leone’s loose confederation of like-mind souls, the Spurs of the Moment: I’ve played guitar, uke & banjo at various times with the Spurs. Am now going back to my musical “roots” performing old blues starting this spring, mostly on the senior center/nursing home/assisted living circuit, probably mostly solo, but with Eberle (& others?) joining in as schedules allow—will keep you posted on that right here on Robert Frost’s Banjo.

Was there a childhood musical experience (either listening or playing) that you believe influenced you later or led you in a musical direction?

I listened to music almost obsessively as a kid—folk singers, Rodgers & Hammerstein, Mitch Miller, the whole nine yards. My sister’s older than I am, & I picked up a lot of music from whatever she was into at the time—I followed her trajectory thru show tunes to the New Christy Minstrels to Baez & Dylan & Tim Hardin & Phil Ochs. I also sang a lot, but let’s just say this became very problematic around the time my voice broke; I have a deep voice, & overnight went from the little lad soprano to a bass or at least very low baritone—for years I had major problems orienting my voice to my ear or vice-versa. But there were positive experiences, too: I had a wonderful piano teacher—Mrs Underhill—who really was a friend to me, & was there to help when I finally started to practice & actually improve.

What was the biggest obstacle you had to overcome to play &/or compose music?

Truth be told, I’ve battled a certain defeatist or “fear of failure” streak in myself for many years, & I guess various youthful experiences led me to believe that I‘d never cut it as a “real” musician. I remember telling friends (half jokingly) during my poebiz days in Charlottesville that I’d rather be a musician than a poet; yet for quite some time when opportunities came up, I avoided them. It wasn’t until I got to know Dani Leone & other folks in San Francisco with a sort of “do-it-yourself” musical aesthetic that I was able to start putting that behind me. But the biggest impetus for me really getting into music has been my relationship with my wife, Eberle—always the better musician, but always encouraging & always finding ways for us to play music together, even when I really couldn’t play a lick. The moral of the story is: if you’re afraid to fail, you’re certain never to succeed.

Do you have any superstitions connected with performances (or with the composing process)?

Despite being a rational sort of guy from one standpoint, I also have tons of superstitions—I’m intent on the “no hat on the bed” thing all the time, but especially before shows, & as Eberle said in her kick-off interview, I insist that we have Buffy the Buffalo with us. One time we played a wedding & forgot Buffy; I didn’t realize until after the gig that Buffy wasn’t in one of the bags, but I just couldn’t focus on the music that day—I felt lost thru the whole gig: simply couldn’t concentrate. We’ve never been at a gig without Buffy the Buffalo , before or since.

Do you start thinking about arrangements as soon as you’re learning a song you’re going to cover or only after you’ve learned it at a basic level?

Nowadays, I’m just doing old tunes, so it’s all covers—no composing. But whether it's a cover or a composition, I’m pretty much “hands on”: when writing songs I’m working on fills & riffs & melodic ideas I can add in without straying too far from a given chord shape—same now when I’m working out back-up or breaks for traditional tunes. I used to think this was “wrong,” somehow—perhaps because it came relatively naturally, & I’ve found that a lot of musicians, myself included, tend to feel that whatever we do naturally isn’t what we should be doing—a big mistake, in my opinion these days. Then I learned that John Fahey worked in a similar fashion when he was composing or working out arrangements of old tunes, & that sort of gave me permission to do this without worrying if it was “the right way.” More importantly, it got me to thinking that there are a lot of “right ways” to do things musically, & we shouldn’t under-value “doing what comes naturally.”

As far as arrangements go, I used to do a fair amount of work on instrumentation with the Alice in Wonder Band, & these days if Eberle wants to learn one of the songs in my repertoire, I usually have an idea of what I’d like her to play, but we always settle on whatever actually works—even if I’m thinking flute & she ends up playing kazoo!

What attracts you to a certain song—what makes a good song?

I once quoted Swedish accordionist Lars Hollmer’s description of himself as a “romantic son of a bitch,” & I suppose I fall into that category as well. Emotion is a big factor in what draws me to a certain song. There’s a lot of emotion in a good melody, & in vocal pieces there’s emotion in good lyrics—not cheap emotion, but feelings that are complex &/or just plain powerful. & I like music that moves me physically as well—not necessarily with some ponderous backbeat but with actual rhythmic motion. As far as songs I perform, my voice has limitations, tho with work & with help from Eberle, I’ve learned to work within these limitations. So, while I’d love to sing a song like “You Go To My Head,” I’m better suited to sticking to old blues & country. Those styles match my voice much better than a lush old standard.

Any one or two of your performances stick out as more memorable? Any one or two incidents during a performance that stick in your mind?

We (Eberle & I) performed our score to Shipman’s Back to God’s Country at Claremont-McKenna College back a few years ago. Our good Shipman buddy, Idaho Film Collection Director Tom Trusky flew in with a copy of the film, Claremont-McKenna film professor Jim Morrison was graciousness itself, & we were having a blast with our pal Audrey Bilger, who’s also a prof there, & was the one who facilitated the gig. Then the film started. Now as some of you may know, film projectors these days run 24 frames per second. However, in the days of the silents, projection speed wasn’t standardized—it changed from one film to the next, & even changed within a given film. We’d composed our score to Back to God’s Country with the film running at 18 or 19 frames per second (can’t recall which), & both of our scores are timed pretty exactly in many spots. All the sudden the film started rolling & Eberle & I realized that something wasn’t right—we were playing in good tempo, but things were moving really fast. The funny thing is, we adapted well—on the fly & with very little overt communication. Somehow we were really in a groove with each other that evening, which is good because we were changing stuff left & right. That was quite a workout—but it was over faster than usual! & I could sense the audience was digging it, which they were—given what was going on, that made me quite elated as we played.

But there have been lots of great memories—the Alice in Wonder Band’s first show at the Alpine Playhouse in 2002; the Wonder Band playing in San Francisco in 2003; & perhaps my favorite show all time, a Bijou Orchestrette show with a screening of Nell Shipman’s Back to God’s Country at the Grove Hotel in Boise for the Western Literature Association in 2006.

When performing how much are you focusing on communication with the audience, & how much on the other members of your band?

I’ve always felt like I’m sensitive to audiences, ever since my poebiz days doing a lot of readings. This can be a good thing, because sometimes I’m just dead sure the audience is right in it with us even tho there’s no distinct indication—remember, Eberle & I have done a lot of background type music, including playing scores for silent films, so sometimes the link with the audience is kind of triangulated. Having said all that, tho, the absolute best thing is to be in a groove with your fellow musicians—if you are in that groove, the odds are really strong the audience is getting what you’re trying to put across. Music is aural communication, & you have to learn how to listen to the folks you’re playing with, & how to communicate with them.

Any instrument that really intrigues you that you’ve never gotten around to learn? What’s interesting to you about this instrument?

I’ve really tried my hand at more than I probably should have already! I know I’d be a better guitar player if I’d stuck to that single-mindedly rather than dividing my guitar time with ukes & banjos & mandocellos, etc. But the one instrument that has intrigued me is the cello. I love instruments in that low but melodic range, & the bowing is a lot more melodic than anything you can do with a guitar or other fretted instrument. Eberle has an upright bass student who bought a decent cello for a ridiculously low price, & he left it with us for a week or two to look over. I played it a bit—loved it—but realized that, unlike fretted instruments which aren’t too hard to keep picking up once you’ve played a few, this would really be starting at square one all over again, & I decided I just don’t have the time to put into it.

What’s on your playlist these days? What are you listening to?

Lots of old blues & old-time music in general. Very much into the Memphis Jug Band, Dave Van Ronk, Reverend Gary Davis, Rory Block, Mississippi John Hurt. But I haven’t turned my back on the jazz stuff: still love Fats Waller, Rahsaan Roland Kirk, Mary Lou Williams & Thelonious Monk—lots of blues there, too. For what it’s worth, I tend to listen to music in a different way than before I played as much—I can’t really take “background music.” If it’s playing, I have to be focused on it. Otherwise, I’d rather have silence or be playing myself.

Where do you see yourself in relation to music right now? How has your relationship to music changed over time?

When I took up the guitar, I saw myself as playing & singing old country & old blues. It turned out that I had to do a lot of work to get my singing “ready for prime-time” (whatever “prime-time” means in rural Idaho). In the interim, I learned a lot about the guitar & other instruments—especially how to be a solid back-up player, but also how to get out on my own, too. Now I’m looking forward to a new incarnation as a singer of old-time songs—blues, especially, & some old country, too, especially where that intersects with blues (e.g., Jimmie Rodgers). This spring I’ll be doing the senior citizen center/nursing home/assisted living center circuit in this general area, & if that goes well, I may do some busking in McCall & try to separate the Boise touristas from some of their shekels; & there are a few local venues that would make sense for this kind of music.

Where do you place yourself in relation to a musical tradition or heritage? Could you talk a bit about musical influences?

This is a hard question for me. I’ve liked “Americana” music for a long time—I was first introduced to it thru my sister’s folk singer records, & then later discovered it in a different incarnation thru Grateful Dead covers of songs like “Death Don’t Have No Mercy,” & “Duncan & Brady” & “You Win Again” way back in the early 70s. I have all three of those songs in my repertoire, tho I can’t say I’ve listened to Grateful Dead any time in recent memory (or even less-than-recent). I listened to lots of rock—various sorts: psychedalia & electric blues from the 60s & early 70s; then a lot of punk—Iggy & the Stooges, Ramones, Sex Pistols, Patti Smith (especially), Tom Verlaine, X, the Minutemen, Johnny Thunders, etc.—but I don’t see this as reflected in my music other than just the concept of “do-it-yourself.” I suppose I come down thru the folkie tradition in some way that included the mind-altering 70s & various other raucous detours before ending up with a resonator guitar playing & singing “Hesitation Blues.”

Do you have any advice for people who are starting out as performers &/or composers?

Spend at least as much time playing your instrument as listening to recorded music. You can get some ideas from recorded music, but a lot of times folks use recordings to beat themselves over the head with the old “I’ll never be able to play like that” shtick. I thought Dale Fisk was right on when he said, “play with people who are better than you.” & play with other folks as soon as you can—which depends a bit on the instrument. You learn at an exponential rate when you play with others. Try to remember: this ain’t a competition—all musicians have strengths & weaknesses; all musicians tend to think: "if only I could do such & such in a certain way." Know why you want to play the instrument (but realize this may change over time). & how do you get to Carnegie Hall? Practice…. practice is really just very focused playing. & speaking of playing, don’t forget you’re “playing” an instrument—don’t take yourself too seriously.

Is there a question about music/musicianship you’ve always had a hankering to answer? If so, what is it, & what’s the answer you’ve wanted to give?
Why does my wife, Eberle, find it so natural to play in odd time signatures & with accents coming in unexpected places? Answer: I haven’t a clue!

Musical Questions – Scott Houston

I’m very happy to have another excellent musician for our Musical Questions series this week. I’ve known Scott Houston since he moved west to the Bay Area to play in Carrie Bradley’s great band, 100 Watt Smile; & I came to know Scott as a witty & down-to-earth guy who was a fantastic bass player & also a lot of fun to hang out with—for a while Scott was my Pitch partner for some mad card games at the Dovre Club, when that delightful old Irish bar was still in the Mission. My one musical regret about Mr Houston is that Scott & Eberle & I have never been able to line up our stints with Chris Leone’s Spurs of the Moment; we’ve had a chance to jam with Scott, but never play a gig with him; something to look forward to down the line. Scott provides us with the following biographical blurb:

I currently play steel guitar with Oakland's The Mighty Lynch Pins; have previously picked and plucked with a variety of bands, most notably with 100 Watt Smile, led by Ed's Redeeming Quality's Carrie Bradley. In addition to these musical endeavors, I’ve spent eight years on the management team at San Francisco's Rosebud Agency supporting artists such as John Lee Hooker and J.J. Cale; & in addition to my current work with the Lynch-Pins, I serve on retainer to Chris Leone's Spurs of the Moment.

Be sure to check out the Mighty Lynch Pins in the video below (from The Bruce Latimer Show) after reading the interview—I love their sound. Without further ado: here’s Scott!

Was there a childhood musical experience (either listening or playing) that you believe influenced you later or led you in a musical direction?

There wasn't a lot of music in my house growing up. My dad had four or five Johnny Cash LPs and my mother had a stack of 45s from her childhood, mostly Elvis type things, and that was about it. Seeing Johnny Cash and June Carter when I was about 10 is a great memory but I don't think I got excited about music until my mother confiscated my “Wild and Crazy Guy” Steve Martin record. She thought it was too profane for a little kid and said if I gave it up she'd replace it with any album I picked. I got Rumours by Fleetwood Mac. I was just in love with that album, the songs and the sounds, especially the bass sounds and all the harmonies. It really hooked me into pop music for many years after.

What was the biggest obstacle you had to overcome to play &/or compose music?

When I was 13 or so, I got my first guitar. The deal was that if I got the guitar, I had to take lessons. I ended up with a mean teacher who was a classical guitar player, complete with the little footstool and sheet music. He would berate me pretty aggressively and slam music books a lot while I was running through my lessons. I put the guitar away for a few years after a few months of that. It really zapped the fun out of playing.

Do you have any superstitions connected with performances (or with the composing process)?

I don't have any. I love the idea and the poetry of superstitions, but they have never come naturally to me. It's always a good idea to buy a good sound man a beer though.

What comes first: music (melody or chords), lyrics, title, concept, etc?

I don't write a whole lot so I try to be consistent with what I do come up with these days. The Mighty Lynch Pins (my current band) call me a “George,” meaning I may have just one or two songs per album but they are usually halfway decent. I've usually written by just building on ideas that naturally come out, usually with words and music arriving together. We've done a few songs in the Lynch Pins where we take a random phrase and build a song out if it. I'm not used to taking an approach like that but I like it very much and it's pulled a few decent tunes out of me.

Do you start thinking about arrangements as soon as you’re learning a song you’re going to cover or only after you’ve learned it at a basic level?

Arrangements are definitely my area of interest in pop music, especially considering the power of the bass player to spell the chords and create dynamics. But with the more country stuff I've been doing on steel I tend to not think about arrangements much at all and do a lot more improvisation. To be playing solos is a whole new thing for me and I'm having so much fun winging it.

What attracts you to a certain song—what makes a good song?

Sometimes it's an interesting arrangement or even something as small as an interesting sound. At a basic level I am attracted to upbeat songs with clever lyrics. I get turned off by really introspective or moody music unless I get a good twist at the end. To me a song like “When You're Smiling”is the best sort of song there is-it's musically interesting, the lyrics are smart and straight forward, and it is uplifting. What could be better?

Any one or two of your performances stick out as more memorable? Any one or two incidents during a performance that stick in your mind?

The vast majority of shows are a good time. I think playing with Chris Leone's old timey band the weekend we played seven full length shows in 30 hours, several of them in 90 degree sunlight, would have to be up there as most memorable. It was more torture than fun but memorable!

When performing how much are you focusing on communication with the audience, & how much on the other members of your band?

I have to say I am usually oblivious to the audience when I play since I get into the music so much. Come to think, that is probably why I don't get stage fright. This is a big weakness for me and something I really need to work on.

Any instrument that really intrigues you that you’ve never gotten around to learn? What’s interesting to you about this instrument?

I've played with a lot of fiddlers who I really admire, in bands with Carrie Bradley and Andy Happell and a lot of the old folks shows with Morgan Fichter. It is a remarkable instrument to me because the players seem to find themselves such unique voices and because it travels so well between genres. I'm trying to learn the mandolin, but that's about as close as I'll get to the fiddle in this lifetime. I don't want to drive my cats insane with learning the fiddle.

What’s on your playlist these days? What are you listening to?

My ears broke about seven or eight years ago and about all I can listen to now is western swing and old country. Loosely speaking, 1955 or so seems to be a cut off point for me, and things that are much newer than that don't grab me as much. Maybe it is because that old music was recorded live and had such a natural swing to it that seems to have been pummeled out of contemporary music. I thought Bruce was pretty awesome at Super Bowl halftime though.

Where do you see yourself in relation to music right now? How has your relationship to music changed over time?

Working in a non-musical capacity for many years for some well known artists really cured me of wanting to be a rock star. It may be the hardest career there is to maintain beyond a few years unless you are addicted to life on the road. It's interesting getting older with music, where it fits into your life and what you want to get out of it. So many peers long ago put their instrument in the closet, but others are playing more that ever. I can't picture not playing. I'm fortunate to have always been able to find situations with strong writers, so I'm happy with the music I have the opportunity to play. The right thing always seems to come along at the right time.

Where do you place yourself in relation to a musical tradition or heritage? Could you talk a bit about musical influences?

Learning the non-pedal steel guitar has been an interesting challenge and has required digging into the musical past. I'm still just a beginner [editor's note: pretty doggone good for a beginner] but it is great fun seeking out all the recordings by the great players of the past. Even though they have very distinct qualities, the pedal steel pretty much killed the non-pedal before 1960 hit. There are some amazing players playing the non-pedal today, but outside of some niche music it is still a pretty obscure instrument to the general public.

Do you have any advice for people who are starting out as performers &/or composers?

A friend of mine has a daughter in a high school music program. They had a well-known jazz musician (odds are that it was a Marsalis) visit the school and there was an opportunity for parents to ask questions. One of the parents asked, “Would you please tell my son the importance of having a backup plan in case his music career doesn't work out?” The musician responded, “Telling your child to have a 'backup plan' is the best way to kill any potential for success. If they have a passion to succeed, they should be encouraged. 'Backup plan' tells them they can't do it.”

Is there a question about music/musicianship you’ve always had a hankering to answer? If so, what is it, & what’s the answer you’ve wanted to give?

Make sure to keep everything polished. If you hit a sour note, blind them with the shiny.

Thanks a bunch, Scott! I defintiely commend that last answer (as a resonator guitar guy). Stay tuned, because there are more Musical Questions to come!

Photo of Scott is by Niana Liu; thanks for making this available.

Musical Questions Anyone?

Hey everybody, another Musical Questions installment tomorrow, this time around from a wonderful musician whose main instrument these days is not as familiar as it might be. The musician is Scott Houston, someone I’ve known since my Bay Area days, & someone whose musicianship I’ve long respected. In addition to being an excellent bassist, Scott these days usually holds forth on the lap steel guitar. The lap steel is instrument that has fascinated both Eberle & I for a long time; we have a lap steel ourselves, a 6-string Gretsch, & we do play around with it quite happily from time to time. For those who’d like to learn more about this instrument, you can get some good general information at Wikipedia here, or a bit more in depth at the excellent site, Brad’s Page of Steel.

Scott Houston is much more than an occasional noodler on the lap steel, however. He’s the real deal, able to provide the instruments characteristically haunting melodies & riffs as an integral part of his current band, Oakland’s The Mighty Lynch Pins (that’s the band in the pic), & also from time to time in Chris Leone’s loose confederation (of which Eberle & I are also members, at least in the band's occasional Great Northwest configuration), the Spurs of the Moment. Be sure to check in for Scott’s insightful & entertaining Musical Questions tomorrow; as a sneak preview of Scott’s music making, check out the video of Mr Houston qua rock bassist in Carrie Bradley’s fantastic band, 100 Watt Smile. The video was recorded at one of my all-time favorite Baghdad by the Bay nightclubs, the Bottom of the Hill, in 2000. Tomorrow, you’ll get to check out Scott’s current (& decidedly more laid-back) incarnation in a video of the Mighty Lynch Pins.

In other blog news, I’ve run across three new blogs (both new to me & relatively new overall) that are well worth checking out. Don Parker, Ink is a hilarious new blog (with a tip of the hat to mouse medicine’s eponymous Mouse & to Citizen K. for pointing him out) that specializes in political/cultural satire & is a fun & refreshing read. Tho Don Parker, Ink is very much “fresh off the presses,” this is one blogger who really hit the ground running.

I’ve also very much enjoyed a recent find (actually, someone who found this spot first), The Butler and the Bagman Chronicles. This also is a relatively new blog, & also one that’s quite droll & novel—but in an interesting way, not just novelty for its own sake. Butler and Bagman mostly consists of episodic tales involving the two title characters who, per the masthead, are personifications of the author’s ego & id. The writing is humorous & delightful, & there are also some engaging “real” stories of the blogger’s family life interspersed. Both these blogs are well worth checking out.

& don’t miss Blueflint, a Scottish female banjo bluegrass duo. Their blog is brand new, but it has links to some great YouTube videos from their performances. Also, don’t let the bluegrass moniker fool you: these folks aren’t recycling clichéd versions of “Banks of the Ohio” for the kabillionth time: their sound is refreshingly new—geez, 2 banjoists, a fiddle, a drum kit, an upright bass (bowed on one number!). Who can ask for more than that? Their blog says they’re working on a cd & hoping to release this in the spring; I for one would be very interested in hearing that. Please give them a listen.

& finally, grateful thanks to Poetikat’s Kat for her “Ewe Rock” emblem, & thanks to all the readers who’ve being showing so much support, especially for the Women’s Art is Women’s Work series; Eberle & I appreciate it so much.

Hope you enjoy 100 Watt Smile, & be sure to check in tomorrow for Scott Houston’s Musical Questions!

Pic of the Mighty Lynch Pins is by Niana Liu; love the photo, & thanks for making it available.

Musical Questions – Earl Butter

(Just a few preliminaries before I turn this over to Earl Butter; the first clip below, “Brand,” is from the Buckets excellent 1996 release on Slow River (it’s called—reasonably enough—the Buckets). The second clip, “Emma June” is from Silo, a cd that’s in progress, & which Earl has been kind enough to let us sample before it’s served, as it were. Silo is made up of 1998 recordings when the original San Francisco line-up of the Buckets was really at its peak, & all of us old Buckets’ fans are looking forward lots to its release—now, here’s Earl):

I was raised in Utica, New York. My mom and dad had a healthy and very eclectic record and 8-track tape collection thanks mostly to the Columbia House Music Club. Eight 8-tracks for a dollar, or whatever it was. A collection which has, sadly, been lost to time. My sister was the right age to actually be a Beatlemaniac. She sang in church, and I sang in chorus in grade school, but nothing after that. I played trumpet in junior high, and even made it to first seat in the "lower" of the two bands. But I got kicked out for reasons I can't remember. I started to play the guitar and sing and it was fun, especially those first few plateaus, where you get your fingers to play your first chords, and then you learn to change from one chord to the other. Sadly, except for typing, many years later, I think changing from one chord to the other is the last thing I ever really learned. I wanted to write songs but was very unhappy with the results and quit singing and playing all through my undergraduate days. In graduate school I shared an office with this cool guy, Dave Kress. He had a band, they played around. I believe the were called the New American Folk Trio, soon to be called No Such Animal. They were like, new wave, they were great. Someone was leaving and Dave had a trumpet and I could almost play it, and I got in. It was really exciting. He let me do anything I wanted. I got to sing and putter around all sorts of instruments, including keyboards, guitars...all sorts of stuff. I played with him for several years and in a later band with him called the Driveways. We made recordings, played tons of shows. It was really awesome. After that I started writing country-like songs and started a band called the Buckets. I also got a lot of music experience working behind the scenes with Ed's Redeeming Qualities when they were in New England. I came to San Francisco in 1991 where the Ed's crew had reestablished themselves. They pre-gathered a Buckets band for me and I played with them for many years here. It's weird thinking back on it. It really was an exciting time. Since then, I've just been getting older and more tired. Recently Joel Murach has asked me to play guitar and trumpet in his band, the Low Rollers. It's neat. He's such a great songwriter, and such a true, traditional, American singer. I'm proud to be a part of it. Last night we played at a pizza place.

Was there a childhood musical experience (either listening or playing) that you believe influenced you later or led you in a musical direction?

My sister was nine in 1963 and she got to live Beatlemania. We had a spare room in our house that we called the Beatle room. I wasn’t allowed in there. It was set up specifically for my sister and her friends to listen to Beatles records. In 1969, when I was six, my parents bought a stereo, and everyday before I went out to play I would listen to one side of a Beatles record. I went through them all that way. I knew I wanted to either be them, or know them, or sing like them….something.

What was the biggest obstacle you had to overcome to play &/or compose music?

Several things. The first was that I wanted to write rock and pop songs like all the people I was listening to when I was sixteen. They were all so serious. I wanted to change the world and get out all the pain of my adolescence. The stuff I wrote was awful. Luckily I was smart enough to recognize it, and quit trying. I went through college not playing or writing anything, sad, but resigned to the fact that I was never going to write a song. At some point I had some sort of brush with country music, and it made everything possible for me. For one, I realized they allowed humor without being novelty. Plus, for me, they had a restrictive structure that made things easier. Plus, I had no real influences except Hank Williams and Hee Haw, so I felt like, “I don’t know what I’m doing,” so I couldn’t do anything wrong.

Another serious obstacle I have is not being able to play an instrument. I am really tied to the chords I can play on the guitar. There’s nothing diminished or augmented about any of my songs. I don’t understand the keys. They’re the keys! And I don’t understand them.

The biggest, though, is terrible self-censorship. For years now the “this is stupid” voice has been so loud in my head that I can’t get anything out. This is such a rookie problem, but I’m having trouble getting over it.

Do you have any superstitions connected with performances (or with the composing process)?

Not really. I learned a long time ago that having a hat makes the difference between seeing an audience and not seeing them. Also, sadly, having clothes I’m comfortable in puts me more at ease. Thus, I’ve been wearing the same clothes on stage for, I don’t know, a long time.

The biggest thing with composing is just knowing that playing the guitar enough will eventually yield some little thing that sounds cool enough to make into a song. Also, the songs you make up while walking around are usually worth the time to run up the stairs and figure out before you lose them.

What comes first: music (melody or chords), lyrics, title, concept, etc? Do you start thinking about arrangements as soon as you’re learning a song you’re going to cover or only after you’ve learned it at a basic level?

It’s all of the above. Most songs I’ve written have come from the guitar, from two or three chords that for some reason, on whatever day it is, sound right to me.

But the first batch of songs I wrote came from lyrics or phrases or titles, and I wrote them like rhymey poems and then put music to them.

Sometimes I hear something else right away, like a fiddle part, or bells or something. And there’s chords and stuff, but the song really hinges on whatever that other part is.

What attracts you to a certain song—what makes a good song?

What a question. Uh….goodness.

I can’t say. It’s the same with any kind of art. It just moves you. It’s can be in the lyrics, like, just a great phrase, something clever, or gut wrenching, or terribly sad. But all those things can go with the notes too, or the arrangement, or the way two instruments sound together, lonesome, or sad, or exhilarating. You know, good songs remind me of being in love when I was younger, or how sweet being sad can be, or how good it feels to feel tough, or let some buried emotions out.

The other thing, for me, is hearing something I haven’t heard before. That’s exciting. Especially if it comes from actively looking around for it.

Any one or two of your performances stick out as more memorable? Any one or two incidents during a performance that stick in your mind?

There was one time I played up in Albany, CA. And it was this after-market band of Buckets that no one really knew about or was going to see. I was not in the best of shape, and the band was kind of loose, with a newish, but great guitar player playing mostly slide and a pump organ guy up for the first time. I could hear my vocals very clear, and they sounded pretty awful, but good-awful. They seemed to be off in all the right places. And the band seemed loose in all the right places. And the band we were opening for had brought in a bunch of people. It was pouring rain out, and people just seemed to be staring at me, like, what is going on. But, that night, for me, it really all came together.

There were a lot of nights like that with the original Buckets too, especially toward the end. It’s really amazing to feel like you’re in a band that can do no wrong. To go up on stage, for me, and not have to worry about anyone messing up, and, amazingly, to feel like you can’t mess up either. Let me rephrase that, forget about worrying that anyone was going to mess up. After awhile, I would feel confident that each member was not just not mess up, but that were going to soar. To soar! To have an audience be in on that, jeez, it’s just like you dream about when you’re a kid. I remember being in the middle of a song, and trying to check everything that was going on, the sound, the band, the vocals, the audience, and thinking….how can everything be going right all at once….what’re the chances?

When performing how much are you focusing on communcation with the audience, & how much on the other members of your band?

I used to concentrate on the audience mostly. You have to check them and vary your performance, fit it to their needs. Are they happy? Are they on our side? Do I have to convince them to listen? Do I have to quiet them down, rile them up? Will showing confidence make them feel like they’re in good hands, or will showing a lack of confidence get them to root for us?

Later, though, I lost my confidence completely, so for a long time I just kept my eyes closed or on the floor. More recently I try and keep my eyes open, but I have trouble making eye contact.

As for the other members of the band, it’s always like, how you doing? I got your back, you are not alone up here. Everyone happy? I’m hearing what your doing, and I approve.

Any instrument that really intrigues you that you’ve never gotten around to learn? What’s interesting to you about this instrument?

Yes, all of them.

Mostly, I think if I could learn the piano, I would have the key to it all. The key!

What’s on your playlist these days? What are you listening to?

I listen to this guy, Will Oldham, who used to play under all these other names, Palace, Palace Music etc. He plays under the name Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy. He’s the only artist I’ve listened to in the last ten or so years, that I just wanted to hear everything he puts out. Antony and the Johnsons first album really sounded sort of new to me, like the first time I heard Laurie Anderson. I like this Sufjan Stevens guy a lot, he seems sort of new. This local band, the Trainwreck Riders really have it going on for me, great players, great lyrics, everything. Everything Beck does speaks to me. I saw this band the Bird and the Bee the other night on tv and thought they were really cute. I tend to discover stuff sort of late, I guess, like Sun Kil Moon and M. Ward. I listen to a lot of Neil Young, and Warren Zevon. And these guys, the Bright Light Quartet, they’re on one of these field recording things, a vocal group. They are amazing.

Where do you see yourself in relation to music right now? How has your relationship to music changed over time?

We are not getting along at the moment. I mean, it’s like we’d been living on opposite sides of the country for years and years, not communicating. And then we got together again, like for a night, really got together again. But, really, music was very young when we got together the first time, and music has realized it is not interested in me anymore.

Where do you place yourself in relation to a musical tradition or heritage? Could you talk a bit about musical influences?

My listening history is like this: the Beatles. Also, top forty radio before FM came along. Plus, was a lucky kid because I didn’t simply dismiss my parents’ music. So, I got to hear Harry Belafonte and Herb Alpert, country music, broadway shows, big bands and classical. Then FM happened and I listened to mostly sixties rock stuff. Then, the whole new wave/punk thing happened when I was about 15 or 16. It was awesome. But I also identified with Bruce Springsteen and Dire Straits, music I felt was cleaner, somehow had more to do with the heart. Then college radio happened and I got pretty into R.E.M. and the English Beat and stuff. Ooh, and when Rust Never Sleeps and Live Rust came out, I got introduced to Neil Young, that’s when I wanted to see if I could write and play again. But by that time I just knew I wanted to listen to all sorts of music, anything and everything, I wanted to hear it.

Lastly and most importantly, I got hit with the country music bug, and I kind of found my niche. The timing was right, for me definitely, and for what was going on in music at the time, too.

I’m really a pretty normal, pop/folk/rock type fan of music. But I consider myself a writer/performer of music that has more to do with country/folk/pop, uh, thing.

Do you have any advice for people who are starting out as performers &/or composers?

Don’t stop writing a song because it seems stupid, or not good. Write every song that comes to mind and judge it later on. Set no limits on yourself. If you ever think, no, I can’t do that; that means do it.

Is there a question about music/musicianship you’ve always had a hankering to answer? If so, what is it, & what’s the answer you’ve wanted to give?

What was the secret to your success?

The confidence of youth, and incredible luck with the musicians I associated with.

Thanks Earl! & remember: the Buckets album Sod is available at CDBaby, & you can still pick up their great 1996 Slow Rover release for a reasonable price if you look around. For those who want to listen first (or buy individual songs), check them out on LastFm—& be on the lookout for their upcoming release, Silo. Be sure to check back for upcoming Musical Questions!

Musical Questions & More!

Hey, folks, I’m happy to announce that we’ll have another installment in the Musical Questions series here tomorrow morning—a musician & songwriter I’m really happy to have on this space, Earl Butter of the legendary San Francisco band, the Buckets.

When I lived in San Francisco in the 90s, there were tons of talented & fun bands; Saturday nights at such haunts as the Hotel Utah or Kilowatt or the Bottom of the Hill or Kommotion were raucous parties vibrant with music & energy; & of all those wonderful bands, there was none that could get the house moving any better than the Buckets, fronted by songwriter/guitarist/singer Earl Butter. Mr Butter had fantastic back-up: the amazing Wanderlean Taters on fiddle & back-up vocals (Robert Frost’s Banjo readers might know Ms Taters as Carrie Bradley), Kid Coyote playing a sizzling guitar, Bea Donna Potts driving the mix with her drumming, & Slim Volume’s bass compelling everyone to dance. There were a number of other folks involved in the Buckets, too, all with unlikely monikers: for instance, our own good pal Dani Leone brought her banjo uke to the Buckets from time to time under the guise of Jessie “Boots” Daniels.

The Buckets could rock, for all their surreal country & western personas. Earl Butter has kindly given permission for me to use some Buckets’ songs, of both older & newer vintage, on this post & on the Musical Questions post tomorrow. The two clips below are taken from the Bucket’s album Sod—& yes, it is available on CDBaby! It’s an outstanding album, tho it features a different band than the typical 90s line-up. The songs were recorded in 02, but for various reasons weren’t released until 06. To me, Sod is a sort of cowpunk counterpart to Big Star’s extraordinary Sister/Lovers album—there are some dark & even harrowing moments (see the first clip—“Brown Dove”—below; the second clip is "On the Wagon"), & the album seems very much “of a piece.” Even the covers—Dom Leone’s “Guess Who This Is” & Michael Nesmith’s “Papa Gene’s Blues” cohere to the overall themes. I’d really recommend this cd to anyone who enjoys alternative country, or who just likes heartfelt music.

Be sure to check out Earl Butter’s interview tomorrow. Besides being a wonderful songwriter, Mr Butter is a terrifically funny guy, & you’ll get some good chuckles from his answers—I know I did. & if you check back in later tonight—several minutes with the Buckets live! What a way to spend some time on a February Saturday evening—nuff said.

Some more blog news: I’ve added a few blogs to this week to the ever expanding blogroll here at Robert Frost’s Banjo, & they’re all well worth checking out. Amazing Voyages of the Turtle is a travel blog written by Sandra Leigh; it details her journeys thru Mexico in an RV along with her husband & some traveling companions. Amazing Voyages of the Turtle is well written, & it provides a vivid picture of the landscape; it also of course is a long road trip story, which is one of my favorite genres—I view road trips as (fun) spiritual experiences (well, mostly fun as long as the car’s working & everyone’s getting along….) Ms Leigh also gets some gratitude here for pointing out The Found Poetry Project, where she recently had a found poem published. For those who don’t know, found poetry involves taking an existing text & creating a poem by lineation, spacing, & sometimes deleting words from the text (in less strict "found poems," words may be added too). It’s a wonderful form in my opinion, & I’m jazzed to find a site dedicated to it.

Thanks to Kat of Poetikat’s Invisible Keepsakes, I also came across the delightful Keep the Coffee Coming, a compendium of song, photographs (lots of gorgeous black & white pix), & observations. The music is eclectic, which I like: you can hear old-time songs like “Ground Hog,” or relatively obscure items like “Guabi Guabi” (in versions both by the composer George Sibanda & by Jim Kweskin) to rock & roll songs like Chuck Berry’s “Maybelline” (today seems to be car themed songs: not just “Maybelline,” but also “Drive My Car,” “409” & “Fast Car”). This site will definitely reward your visits.

I’ve also added paint, poems and ponderings, where you can see some lovely artwork & photographs, & read insightful (& sometimes poignant) musings about life & creativity. I became aware of this blog, by Sukipoet, as a result of a discussion about copyright issues at the excellent Life at Willow Manor. I’m very glad the discussion led me to her blog.

I mentioned The Gold Puppy when I participated in the “Fourth Annual Bloggers’ Silent Poetry Reading," & I've added this to the blogroll as well. The Bloggers' Silent Poetry Reading event was the brainchild of The Gold Puppy’s author, Reya. In addition to conceiving that wonderful idea, Reya also has a very engaging blog—some stunning photos mingle with memoirs & observations—almost meditative at points.

& almost as I was posting this, I ran across thisandthat, a relatively new blog that combines observations about motherhood & family life with some nice photos. Although I obviously haven't gotten familiar with the blog, I was interested in my first visit, & placed it on the blogroll here; please pay thisandthat a visit when you get a chance.

& hey, special thanks to Robert Frost’s Banjo followers & subscribers, as well as the other wonderful folks who come here (some quite regularly) but, in Googlespeak, don’t strictly fit into either of these categories—your support means a lot to me. When I started this blog back in August of last year, I decided I wouldn’t do any tracking of hits, etc., because I felt I needed to write this for myself first & not get caught up in numbers. I still don’t track those statistics, but I happily see the icons of Robert Frost’s Banjo followers, & I do check the subscription numbers in Google Reader: I’m gratified that both are increasing; & I’m delighted by what folks bring in terms of support & commentary—many heartfelt thanks.

So—later this evening: about 7 minutes from a 1994 Buckets show at the Hotel Utah in Baghdad by the Bay (yours truly may have been in the crowd that night). & especially: check in tomorrow for Earl Butter & his Musical Questions.

pic up top shows Earl Butter with what looks like a Telecaster; to the left, Dani Leone with what definitely is a banjo uke

Musical Questions – Carrie Bradley

I’m really thrilled to present Carrie Bradley as this week’s Musical Questions interviewee— Carrie's someone I’ve long respected both as a musician & as a songwriter. I’ve been jazzed by her songwriting & playing at any number of Ed’s Redeeming Quality & 100 Watt smile shows, & continue to be amazed by The Great Auk, her collaboration with Bernie Jungle, which for my money is just about a perfect musical match-up; & I've been dazzled by her violin playing with the Buckets & the Breeders. Tho I’ve only had a couple of opportunities to play with Carrie at Spurs of the Moment shows (& a couple of very fun jam sessions chez Umbach-Hayes during our wedding celebration), I can say it’s a thrill: as with Lois Fry, her playing tends to lift everyone else up. But enough from me—I’ll just add that there are two videos at the end of the post: the first shows The Great Auk performing Carrie’s song “Love”; the second showcases Carrie with the Breeders performing the great Dom Leone-Ed’s Redeeming Qualities song, “Driving on Nine.” Enjoy! & thanks so much Carrie!

I grew up in Albany, New York, started playing violin at age 8, & studied privately through high school. Played in the community symphony while at college, then quit to play soccer and try to study more. Got lured down to the student pub one night and improvised by listening to a recording and a singer for the first time. Thereafter got called in by a few students writing their own songs and recording them on these things called “4-tracks.” Was pressed into composing for theater productions and finally into fiddling—mainly in the wrong key and with terrible double stopping skills and singing with a bad country accent—in a band called Timid Fiddle (yes, self-explanatory).

Went back to Minneapolis with a plan to quit music and prepare for entering graduate writing school (even though a poet friend of my father’s passionately urged me to switch to music. “Which is funner?” she said, eating me up with her eyes).

I promptly joined a punk rock band. Next, graduate writing school and another resolution to quit music. The first day of classes, met Dani Leone and within a few months started Ed’s Redeeming Qualities. That led to a role in the Breeders that carried me through much adventure and the end of the nineties. Simultaneously, I musiced and colleagued with a number of bands and artists in New Hampshire, Boston, and San Francisco. Including:

The Buckets
John Wesley Harding
Jonathan Richman
The Red House Painters
Love and Rockets
Granfaloon Bus
100 Watt Smile
The Great Auk

I still play with the Great Auk and the Breeders--in the studio and sometimes live—and have started playing in New York with Noah Chasin (formerly of Harm Farm), Jason Porter (of Captain Fatass), and the cutest drummer in the world (Marc Neves).


Was there a childhood musical experience (either listening or playing) that you believe influenced you later or led you in a musical direction?

Plain old: my parents. Neither of them did any professional time; my father sang and did theater in college and has continued to sing and play in some homespun circumstance or other, lo, the fifty years since, and to this day—community barbershop quartet, singing and ukeing at family and neighborhood and work gatherings, etc. But both of them are and have always been avid listeners, concert goers, and record buyers. The record player was always spinning in our house, always. I am sure I heard my first Beatles—and Basie and Benny and Beethoven and Broadway and Dylan—in utero, and I have dog-eared Kodak-coded black-and-white pictures of my dad sitting cross-legged on the floor, playing the uke, his mouth open in a choral O, to a baby wiggling on a blanket next to him (moi!). My parents danced, even just by themselves in the living room—I mean, cut a rug!—and my dad moved through the house with a lot of whistling and clapping, and leading us in a kind of extemporaneous, joyful interplay with music: conducting cues, mugging, musical jokes. Since I left home, I have never had a birthday pass without them calling me and dueting over the phone. I was issued a ukelele (as is almost anyone who spends enough time in our household, including my husband-to-be at the rehearsal dinner) at the age of five. This all combined, I think, to remove much of the intimidation factors in picking up an instrument or impulsive warblings, and generated a very emotional connection to music, as a force for involvement, definition, identity—gave me a view of music as a calling, a way of life, an act of love.


What was the biggest obstacle you had to overcome to play &/or compose music?
When I started playing, my challenges were laziness and shyness on the one hand, and perfectionism and a need for instant gratification on the other—I had a natural aptitude, so the first phases came easily, but not easily enough thereafter, and a classic frustration would dog me; I hated the noise that came out of my squeaky violin from underneath my sore fingers! Luckily, my parents enforced practice and didn’t let me quit. I can’t tell you how many adults I meet who hear that and say, geez, I wish my parents had been meaner about it, I quit when I was eight years old…

When it came to writing my own songs, which for me didn’t begin until I was in graduate school, I found that in spite of my comfort level with playing music, I still thought of writing it as a highly rarefied gift, the kind for which one is ordained by gods; or as an exotic skill, that surely would have emerged on its own by the time I was three years old if I had it at all. Which was odd because I had already embarked in school on my pursuit of some kind of career involving fiction writing; I think I got stuck in a perception early on that I personally had to choose prose writing or playing music; to do both would be downright supernatural. Luckily, that was when I met my friends, right there in writing workshop, with whom I banded to make Ed’s Redeeming Qualities. You couldn’t ask for an airier, shinier portal into songwriting: short, simple, rhymey, narrative, and personal were that band's, well, qualities, along with a blithe attitude towards rule breaking.

Do you have any superstitions connected with performances (or with the composing process)?

For shows, not really superstitions, but lots of ritual (though so often thwarted): Get plenty of sleep the night before and a nap, or at least a Zen moment, the day of, close to load-in. Find the right T-shirt and other accoutrements that create the perfect balance between (in my case extreme) need for comfort and identity and fun—or decide if it’s one of those shows where you should dress up or have an actual costume. Leave time to collect and arrange gear, paper and Sharpie, mailing list and merch, etc., all without hurry. Change strings a couple of days ahead and stretch and work in a touch of finger grease day of. Smoke enough cigarettes to put a psych on and get deep (that was the old days…ah…); have exactly one drink thirty to fifty minutes before taking the stage and one to put on your amp. I guess there was some superstition, too; I guess it felt ominous or cursed if there ended up being four other shows that overlapped “our” fan base around town on “our” date…or if a string broke during the first song…and I had a few “lucky” T-shirts.

As a composer, there seems to be an endlessly pulsating dense weave of ritual and superstition, involving a kind of manic dance with every object within reach of hand, eyeball, and powers of hallucination—a sorting and shuffling and rearranging of cigarettes (again, in the old days…ah…), coffee, wine, chair, bed, beach, car…if I was stuck, I often would get in the car and drive, preferably up and down hills, or walk, and watch, wait and listen, because every bird, bee, breeze, tilt of the earth, and/or crack in the sidewalk could be the potential key.


What comes first: music (melody or chords), lyrics, title, concept, etc?
With very few exceptions, music first, which I’ve mused on a lot, since writing words is so much easier for me. Maybe that’s where I’m superstitious—or maybe just neurotic. While a missing rhyme or the perfect line are always elusive, like Bergman’s silver fish slipping through the weave of a net, coming to songs as a fiction writer makes me pretty confident that I can fill a page, or at least a verse structure, with prose, and sift and tighten as it goes…but as a composer, no matter how musical I may feel or call myself, I am exceedingly insecure. Every time I write a melody I am convinced it will be my last, every time I start a new song, I feel the task of producing a fresh melody is hopeless. Then I take a shot and begin, sometimes on piano but usually guitar, and start thumping at the same three chords it seems I always play. Then, if I’m lucky, out of a discouraging dullness, a bit of a melody will emerge; it only needs to make one move that excites me—a loop or slide or back-and-forth or leap I’ve never made before—to get my attention, and I will obsess over those two or three notes for days if I have to. Usually somewhere around the ten- to twenty-four-hour mark, I commit to some phonetics—not words yet, but just vowel sounds first, then consonants... the ones that seem preordained... Finally, then, a single word or maybe two built from those and I can move on from what has surely by then become an annoying gutteral rut akin to the sounds of gorilla romance. That word or those words steers the theme, and then I can sink into the word-smithing in earnest. In a twist, though, choruses—both words and melody—usually don’t come until I have the theme clear in my head and the music and words settled for some verses. Are choruses brutally hard for everyone?? Not for Cole Porter, Burt Bacharach, Barry Manilow, Jon Bon Jovi, or Black Francis…I find a good chorus almost impossible. A bridge, for some reason, comes pretty naturally, and boy, is that a pleasure.

What attracts you to a certain song—what makes a good song?

A good bridge!

I guess I’d say I’m not readily attracted to highly experimental songs, unless they manage to thread in something inexplicably familiar…at the same time, an unmistakable element of originality always thrills me. I’m moved by a balance of timelessness and logical and soothing, shock-of-recognition intervals with surprises—odd textures, a personal vocabulary, a strange joke, dissonance, silence. I’m also very pig-headed about theme. Theme and vividness. I love songs that are metaphorical or even opaque, but with strong imagery, and I need a sense that the writer knows what it’s about, that there is a reason for each image and the order they stream in.

Any one or two of your performances stick out as more memorable? Any one or two incidents during a performance that stick in your mind?

Oh boy, I don’t know where to begin. I could compare big and small: 70,000 people at Rock am Ring in 1994 (I think that festival draws more like 150,000 now), with the closest row of audience twenty-five feet away behind a barrier of wood and steel and muscle men—and when I played my homely violin part on a bittersweet acoustic ballad in the middle of a rock set [“Driving on 9,” with the Breeders], a sea of arms went up, waving back and forth slowly, like kelp in the tide, and I felt like everybody all the way to the horizon was feeling something very private, and also understood my loss—my friend who wrote that song had died some years before. Later that year, on tour with Ed’s, I remember for some reason in particular a show we played at a coffee shop in South Carolina, and there were about four people there, and I was so uncomfortable, I couldn’t really see past the rack of novelty mugs for sale or feel the audience, even though heads and mugs were both so close to the tip of my bow I kept dipping and bobbing to avoid them. The point being, I guess, you never can predict the winds of connection or intimacy that are stirred when you're playing...".

In another example, I remember an early ERQ show where a heckler went ballistic on me because she thought my song “The Boy I Worked With” was making tasteless jokes about animal abuse, when to me it was an extremely strong and poignant indictment of abuse. By contrast, I remember a 100 Watt Smile show—for which I wrote pretty complicated lyrics, maybe overly—where it felt like everything was working—every laugh, every tear, every joke, every moment of poetry…and then I got off stage and every single person I talked to said, “Dude, too bad, sucky sound system, you couldn’t hear a single word.” You just never know…

When performing how much are you focusing on communication with the audience, & how much on the other members of your band?

Because I started out as a more-or-less clinically shy kid, it still amazes me every time I perform how comfortable I am on stage. And because I started my creative life as a fiction writer, it still amazes me every time how layered and complex the exchange between writer and listener is—I think I had assumed nothing could be as nuanced as a reader alone with their experience and the written word. So my focus is greatly upon the audience; I am totally nurtured by that communing, and have a lot of fun with it, the interaction and the immediacy. I would have predicted myself for a shoe gazer. Not that I don’t still get shy, and I can take it hard when an audience seems unimpressed.

At the same time, I am powerfully inspired by the connection I have felt playing with other people. Also because I started as a fiction writer, I think—and maybe because I started as a classical player and never played off the page until college—learning to collaborate was long and slow in coming for me. With each band, though, I felt more and more in an altered state while concerting, if you will. With Bernie, it’s distilled to a kind of telepathy unlike anything I felt before it, really. That’s a huge thrill, finding that in rehearsal and then being able to re-create it in the heat of a performance. It’s a dizzying combination of the private and the public.

Any instrument that really intrigues you that you’ve never gotten around to learn? What’s interesting to you about this instrument?

When I retired my last rock band (and turned forty the same year), I decided it was high time, and probably the key to eternal youth, to play the trumpet—the first instrument I remember really fighting for when I was a kid (no go). I lasted about ten minutes—it hurts your mouth! My current burning desire—and never mind eternal youth, either, one’s forties are such a great lesson in the beauties of age—is the theremin. For obvious reasons, as a violinist, but I also love its early electronica element, a retro modernity, how it is both invisible and a dance—a fascination and appreciation for paradox is kind of my defining approach to life and writing and music.

What’s on your playlist these days? What are you listening to?

M Ward, Bright Eyes, Unbunny, Andrew Bird, Architecture in Helsinki, Mirah, Papas Fritas, Rosa Ponsell, Sufjan Stevens, Dolly Parton, Duke Ellington. Also stream a lot of Pandora.com. Anyone who doesn’t know it and works near a computer, check it out! Really great way to find new music.

Where do you see yourself in relation to music right now? How has your relationship to music changed over time?

I’m a little embarrassed to say it, but I think I’m working on a full circle. It emerged in my life as (paradoxically) a challenge, a siren song, and utterly, pleasantly incidental. Then it became a vortex within which I defined myself, both worrying and thriving, finding solace and staring into abysses (abyssi?). Then I got on the rock train and tried to write hits, I guess, to put it too simply but still. Then I tried to return to it as a labor of love with possible dividends—I mean the money kind. Now I think all that experience enriches my great sense of luck that music has been a friend and an adventure, and feel lucky once over that it continues to be a challenge, a siren song, and utterly pleasantly incidental. A day doesn’t go by when I don’t have a moment with it; other days will surely come where I play with Bernie again, or my new group of cohorts here in New York, or where I may write the best thing I ever have.

Where do you place yourself in relation to a musical tradition or heritage? Could you talk a bit about musical influences?

My influences were, in order, I think, first the pop artists. The Beatles generated so much joy and so much innovation. Then the purveyors of passion: Beethoven, Dvorak. So much articulation in dynamics and instrumentation! Then the poets, writers like Paul Simon and Laurie Anderson and Tom Waits, who helped me connect my writing goals to music. Punk and post-punk got me to dance, and that’s what helped me get to the stage, I think.

Do you have any advice for people who are starting out as performers &/or composers?

As with anything, it’s a matter of falling forward. Remembering anything is possible and mystery can be ridden like a bronco. You will never know what you’re going to write before you write it. And keep it personal. The most gratifying thing is finding out new pieces of self, not worrying about scissor kicks or brilliant patter.

Is there a question about music/musicianship you’ve always had a hankering to ask? If so, what is it, & what’s the answer you’ve wanted to hear?
Put to Leonard Bernstein: Because I am a good dancer, does that mean I could be a good conductor? His answer: Take my hand and I’ll show you.