Flatpicking Spotlight: Jake Workman

 Jake Workman: Taking Risks and Playing from the Heart

by Rebecca Frazier

Growing up Out West in Utah, Jake Workman never expected, much less aimed to be, an internationally recognized musician. Yet today he’s held the coveted lead guitar position with Ricky Skaggs & Kentucky Thunder for half a decade and recently snagged the International Bluegrass Music Assocation’s 2020 Guitar Player of the Year award, a rarity for a first-time nominee in this worldwide pool of voters and players. 

“In Utah there aren’t a lot of great bluegrass players, and it’s surprising that a person would learn bluegrass really well coming from this state,” Workman says from his home near Salt Lake City, where he started out playing rock n’ roll as an adolescent. His fire for learning bluegrass was stoked at the weekly Rocky Mountain Pizza jam, where he discovered “little pockets” of grass-oriented musicians. Soon he was navigating the Western festival scene as a hungry young picker. “I would go out to Wintergrass near Seattle and just stay in the hotel all weekend, jamming. I didn’t even know who was playing on stage,” he confesses. 

So how did Skaggs find him? And did he ever dream that he would get a call like that? “I would jam along with Ricky Skaggs & Kentucky Thunder records. I’d hear Cody Kilby tearing it up and think ‘Am I ever going to play that fast?’ I kept working on it. I never was shooting to be in the band, but I just wanted to be as good as those guys if I could be.” Eventually Workman found that he had developed his own technique for playing at Skaggs’ signature lightning tempos with control and relaxation. “But when the job came around, I had no idea it was coming. On my phone, I saw a Facebook notification from Ricky Skaggs—I couldn’t believe it was real.”

Skaggs hired Workman over the phone without an audition, but with heavyweight recommendations from Kentucky Thunder alums Cody Kilby and Bryan Sutton. Workman says he mused, ‘How am I going to do this from Utah?’ He’d turned down previous offers from other Nashville-based artists, because he didn’t want to uproot from his Utah community. He began his new job in December 2015 by flying to meet the band; he moved to Nashville in 2016. “I didn’t ever think I would live in Nashville,” Workman explains, “but when Ricky called, it’s like ‘How do you say no to that?!’”

Touring with Skaggs has proven to be “a great gig for me—probably more astounding than winning my IBMA award was seeing Ricky’s message pop up on my phone,” Workman remarks. That’s saying a lot, considering Workman was stunned when his name was announced in October. He doesn’t think he was the “most popular guitar player” on the list, judging by social media numbers. However, he intuits that his 2019 guitar-centered album, “Landmark,” put him on the map for voters who were considering his recent contributions to the flatpicking world.

And what inspired this successful recording of original guitar music? “After playing with Ricky for a while I thought, I’d love to be coming out to the CD table after the show with a product that represents exactly what you’re hearing me do onstage, just playing guitar. I’d been writing for several years, and I wanted it to be instrumental—a good picker’s record.” He says he titled his collection ‘Landmark,’ like a “time-stamp: this is me in 2019. I had a vibe, a sound, a feel, a way of writing.” 

Workman was able to work on his tunes in auditoriums, waiting for soundcheck on the road. He also uses this downtime for honing his guitar skills and warming up for shows. But when time is short—how can Workman hop out of the bus and perform at high velocity with accuracy and confidence? “I have a lot of muscle memory built into my hands at this point. We’ll call them ‘cop-out licks’—stuff that I can just sling out there that I’ll nail and play well. If I want to do something bold and daring, likely it’s because I have plenty of warm-up time to get to that point. If it’s one of those days when the bus pulls up 5 minutes before we play, I’m not going to warm up much; but when I do warm up for those types of shows, I don’t sit backstage and shred. I warm up slowly. There’s something to be said about calibration: how tight do I hold my pick, where’s my arm, is my shoulder tense, am I letting it fall on the guitar. I’ll just calibrate.”

Listeners may wonder what’s going through Workman’s mind when he is executing his powerhouse solos. Has he planned them out, in any general sense? Is he freely improvising? “I played these songs so many times. They channel into something after a while; there are no two nights that are identical, but I do have templates, especially on the fast ones. I’ve worked them up, or they’ve worked themselves up just by repetition. If I’m having a rough day, I can fall back on a solo I’ve done before. But if the crowd is awesome, and it’s one of those warmed up days, and I’m feeling bold and confident, I’ll go for the craziness. That’s what’s fun, even if there’s risk involved and I miss a string. Even if I played a show perfectly but all I used the whole show was the same cop-out stuff I’ve used before, the same note-for-note solo, I may have just played great…but I don’t have as much excitement in my heart afterwards. I have a let-down feeling, to be honest. I think, ‘Dang it, I should’ve been bold, I should’ve gone for something, captured the moment; what was in my heart tonight?’ I chickened out of it, and I don’t want to do that, but sometimes it’s hard to have that mental energy to be brave. And I don’t have it every day.”

When asked if he’s reaching for that bravery for the audience or for his bandleader, Workman adamantly chooses the latter. “I’m not scared of any audience. It’s the man standing next to me. I feel like I owe it to Ricky. Ricky likes professionalism. He knows what we’re capable of. But he also loves energy, playing from the heart. If I play something from the heart and it’s really grooving, but I miss a few notes, he would take that over my being a computerized machine that’s just rehashing a planned out solo.”

Workman advises guitarists to overcome their weaknesses. He believes practice time should be divided into three equal categories: warm-up/technical patterns that focus on developing weak points, then new material, and finally review. “Before I pick up my guitar, I think about what I’m going to do,” he explains. “Sometimes I even write it down the night before.”

During this period of tour cancellations, Workman has relocated, at least temporarily, back to his Utah community, where he teaches lessons full time from home and continues his own study of the guitar. “There’s so much to learn, it never ends,” he muses. “Sometimes I’m excited for the challenge, but often I think, ‘Why can’t I just know everything already?’”  And yet—considering his own description of the unpredictable thrill of the boldness that fills his heart on his daring days, perhaps ‘knowing it all’ would leave nothing for that chance. 

Originally published in Americana Rhythm Music Magazine

Flatpicking Spotlight: Jon Stickley

 Jon Stickley’s Musical Landscapes: A Soundtrack for Evolving Times

by Rebecca Frazier

Imagine that your life had a personal soundtrack. What would it sound like? Jon Stickley, a native North Carolinian and longtime national touring artist, has been interpreting his surroundings for so long that it’s natural that his music would evolve into a personal soundscape, lush with many miles of experience with his own Jon Stickley Trio.

“I think the music is inspired by the lifestyle,” Stickley says, when asked about the heavily rhythmic guitar music he writes. “I handle most of the driving in the band. I’d get out of the van and play something that has that same energy, like a video game, weaving in and out of traffic.” 

Jon Stickley Trio has attracted fans of all ages into their pocket of the jamgrass landscape through almost a decade of national festival touring and four studio album releases. Repeat listeners don’t seem to mind that the music can’t be easily categorized, and Stickley acknowledges that while bluegrass is his form of choice, the drums-guitar-violin trio members have become successful deviants of that form. “We try to incorporate the bluegrass technical side of things and put that into other genres. We use the same drive and keep the tone, articulation and technique where you’d want it to be in the bluegrass setting, and use it mainly over different chords and rhythms.” 

With mountains for a backdrop—Stickley’s a longtime resident of Asheville—he’s developed an uncanny ability to transmute his environment and daily story into compelling musical ideas, rich with imagery and focused emotion, like a dramatic drive through the Alaskan wilderness.

Stickley’s background in Parks and Recreation at North Carolina State University seems fitting when he presents his vivid musical concepts. In 2003 he worked in Alaska as an intern with Alaska State Parks, and the timing roughly coincided with his transition from a gigging drummer playing hard punk to a dedicated acoustic bluegrass musician: “The energy, the fast tempos, excitement of it, and the fact that you could do it anywhere you wanted drew me to bluegrass,” he says. While he’d played a lot of punk and rock up to that point, he explains that “bluegrass was the backpacking version of that. You could do it camping; it was like music to go.”

Summers after college were spent in the Colorado music scene playing guitar with Durango-based Broke Mountain Bluegrass Band; and Stickley long considered himself to be a “sideman,” evidenced by his subsequent years in that role with Carolina bands Biscuit Burners and Town Mountain. He’d founded Jon Stickley Trio as a side project before he decided to focus on it, despite his assertion that “being a leader of the band is not the most comfortable position” for him. “Learning to be in charge was so rewarding,” he adds. 

So does flatpicking at this level come naturally to Stickley? “I have to ease into it,” he says. “Even if I don’t play for two days, there’s a rebuilding process for me.” He advises other players, “Acoustic guitar is a very physical instrument; it’s going to take a certain amount of pain and suffering before it gets comfortable. You’ve got to do some weight lifting—build your calluses, your muscles have to be strong enough to press down the frets. The strings are stiff. You’ve got to build to a basic level before you can start having fun.” When asked how he mentally prepares to play, Stickley explains that music is his meditation: “Music is my form of relaxation. It grounds me and gets me in a better headspace overall.” Having had injuries in the past, he emphasizes that it’s important not to over play. “Make the most beautiful sounds you can with what you’ve got at the time,” he explains.

And what are those sounds during these months of quarantine and isolation, now that his high-paced driving days have come to a pause? “I barely leave the house, so the things that inspire me are more like looking out at my yard. So I’m not drawn to aggressive music, I’m drawn more to peaceful music,” Stickley says, naturally finding the muse in his situation. “I’ve been doing solo livestreaming for the first time ever—you have to keep the music going. It’s been an amazing step forward for me, and it’s forced me into some new ideas.”

While his self-professed Tony Rice guitar “obsession” is undeniable, Stickley has explored and mined his personal creativity to discover his own musical vista. And while his music is constantly evolving, Stickley confesses that he prefers to “go with the flow” rather than set concrete goals for his next chapter. “A lot of it is energy related,” he states. “The goals get defined as we move forward.” 

Originally published in Americana Rhythm Music Magazine

Flatpicking Spotlight: Allen Shadd

Allen Shadd

By Rebecca Frazier

If you met Allen Shadd at a bluegrass jam or backstage at a festival, you might never guess that he’s breathing rarified air in an elite club of only four people in the world—he has won, three times, the National Flatpicking Guitar Championship in Winfield, Kansas. Shadd carries himself in a casual manner, often pointing out his own perceived weaknesses. But his self-deprecating jokes and relaxed demeanor belie his innate intensity and musical passion, which for him have taken many forms throughout his childhood, teens, and adulthood. 

Shadd’s guitar career began at age seven in his native Florida, where he started out by playing along with his dad’s favorite country radio station. “Merle Haggard, George Jones. Old country music is what I grew up listening to, and I love it to this day,” he says. “But I went to a bluegrass festival for the first time when I was ten, and it blew me away. Everywhere I looked, there were groups of musicians playing together, and I thought ‘I gotta do this!’ That’s what lit my fire to start learning.” 

Shadd gravitated towards a guitar mentor, Billy Sandlin of Claire Lynch’s Front Porch String Band, who would often invite Shadd to be a guest onstage with the band. “Billy was my hero until he passed away last year of cancer,” Shadd says. “Growing up in Florida, this is the Southern rock capital of the world, so of course I also had an electric guitar as a teenager and went around playing country in the bars.”

In 1995, Shadd made his first go at winning the flatpicking guitar championship at Walnut Valley Festival in Winfield, Kansas. He was so thrilled to make the top five finals that he decided to give it another try in 1996, when he placed second. “Once I got second place, I realized I’ve got to keep going now, I’ve got to win this thing. I put pressure on myself that probably didn’t help me. In 1997 I had attitude, I was competitive.” Shadd won first place that year, but his memories of the experience are not entirely positive. He muses, “Everybody goes out there and gets nervous and uptight, and it made me into something I really didn’t like.” He decided that he probably would not compete again.

Never say never. Shadd did indeed compete again, with various levels of commitment and preparedness in 2003 and 2005. But in 2012, Shadd began noticing a personal transformation. “In 2012 I went out there with zero nerves. It was a hard year. My son was born, it was a 22 hour labor, we almost lost him in the delivery; he wasn’t breathing for about 20 minutes, and they finally got him going. Three weeks later my dad passed away from cancer, so when I went to Winfield that year, for me, it’s like—This isn’t life or death, this is a guitar contest. It’s just Winfield, it doesn’t matter, you know? That was my perspective in 2012. I just went out there for the first time and really had fun, I listened to all the great guitar players instead of not wanting to hear everybody else play. That was the year everything changed for me. I won in 2013 and didn’t go back until 2019, the first year I was eligible, and I won again. The first time it was a goal, the second time was a dream, and the third time was a surprise. I don’t know if there’ll be a fourth or not, it doesn’t really matter to me.”

In 2014, Shadd released ‘Miles from the Hard Road,’ a solo album featuring his compelling original flatpicking compositions, signature contest arrangements, and unique renditions of covers. Shadd’s dexterity is showcased in a band setting on the album, but his live shows often find him solo, whence he creates a full band sound all by himself. He credits listening to other instruments, like piano, and other styles, like fingerpicking, for his lush arrangements that feature chordal harmonies, voice-leading, and strong melodic components.

When asked how he developed his talent throughout the years, Shadd explains, “I don’t read music, don’t read tablature, don’t do theory. I play by ear. I’m blessed in that sense; if I hear something, I can usually play it, especially with bluegrass flatpicking style guitar.” He admits that certain styles of music are “above his pay scale,” like modern free form jazz and jam band music. “There has to be a melody for me to follow in my mind,” he says.

It would appear that guitar expertise comes easily to Shadd, who can sit down and improvise on complicated acoustic tunes he’s never heard before. “At this point in time, I can do it because I’ve heard it all before. Or played it all before. If somebody hasn’t been playing fifty years like I have, it’s not going to be the same for them. But I have to sit down and learn songs too,” he says, using a recent arrangement of a Billy Joel cover as an example.  

How does Shadd remain inspired to play the guitar, given those fifty years of experience? “It goes back to what I was saying earlier about evolving. When I was nineteen years old, I’d been playing in the bars playing country telecaster for a number of years, and I’d gotten burned out. I quit playing for six years, and when I got back into playing, I told myself, I’m never going to push myself again to the point where I hate what I’m doing. If it’s not fun, don’t do it. I just try to play things I actually enjoy, and I know as guitar players we’re self-critical and I’m no different—I’m very critical of my own playing, but I’ve gotten comfortable with a lot of the things that I do over time that I actually can enjoy. When I sit down to practice, I don’t do a bunch of eighth notes; most of the time I like to hear full chords, and I play rhythm a lot because I like the way the guitar feels vibrating against my chest—the fullness, the sound, the tone, the warmth of it, everything you don’t get when you’re doing deedle-deedle-deedle.”

Shadd advises guitarists to steer clear of discouragement and to instead create realistic goals and self-rewards for achieving them. Shadd celebrates those who’ve guided him on his path, such as his late mentor, Billy Sandlin, and muses about his personal evolution from heavy-handed competitor to where he is now. “Life’s short. This last year, I’ve lost so many people; it’s depressing, but in the same sense, it makes you realize how short life really is. The most any of us can hope for…is once I’m gone, somebody somewhere will say, ‘I remember him, he helped me, he showed me this, I learned this from him,’ or ‘He inspired me to do this.’ And to me, that means more than winning a contest.”

Originally published in Americana Rhythm Music Magazine

Flatpicking Spotlight: Tyler Grant

                                 Tyler Grant: Flatpicking for the People in the Quarantine Era

by Rebecca Frazier

California native Tyler Grant is widely known in the jam band world for his work with multiple outfits including Grant Farm and Emmitt-Nershi Band, fronted by members of Leftover Salmon and String Cheese Incident. While his electric guitar work compellingly reflects classic influences such as Jerry Garcia, his award winning flatpicking guitar styling has placed him in a class of his own. He’s spent his adult life honing his skills and interpretation of this uniquely American style of guitar playing. Grant took home trophies across the U.S. at cutthroat guitar competitions, culminating in his becoming the National Flatpicking Champion at the Walnut Valley Festival in Winfield, Kansas in 2008. His hard work and dedication have resulted in 11 studio albums, a busy workshop schedule, and a high profile touring history.

Yet when the COVID-19 quarantine clamped down in mid-March and most musicians were staring at empty calendars, Grant didn’t let grass grow under his Martin D-28. He launched a series of Facebook guitar-focused livestreams to share his music and instructional abilities with those stuck at home. 

Grant admits that at first he thought the quarantine would be a “welcome break.” Then he realized he wanted to establish an online concert community as soon as possible. “Now, even more so than an opportunity to stay relevant and make a living, it seems like a service to the community,” Grant explains, expressing his passion for music and flatpicking, in particular. 

And what is flatpicking, exactly? “Flatpicking is the style of guitar associated with bluegrass music primarily, and it’s a sub-genre of old time and classic country music,” Tyler says. “There’s rapid technique with the propulsion of a dance-style breakdown or fiddle tune.” Doc Watson and Tony Rice are good examples, he adds. “I believe flatpicking music is its own genre. It blows my mind that it’s not in the Webster’s Dictionary yet!” 

Tyler narrowed his focus to flatpicking after graduating from California Institute for the Arts (CalArts) in 2000. “CalArts was a broadening experience. I learned about styles from flamenco to Bulgarian folk music, but after college I realized I’m going be happiest if I pursue this thing that I’m culturally connected to, that I can do convincingly.” He attended his first bluegrass festival in Colorado in 2002 and was hooked. “There were people my age jamming all night and having fun. They were all inspired. I was so fired up I couldn’t sleep for days afterwards.”

Now Tyler is a regular performer on those festival stages, inspiring others to follow in his path. Appearing relaxed and professional, he’s developed confidence through years of intentional practices. “I did a lot of inner game work: tons of meditation, gratitude journals, faith and confidence that it’s going to happen,” he explains. “I’ve spent time facing my fears as much as possible—doing the contests, doing the performances. My advice to other musicians: put yourself on the spot, observe what happens, and try to draw your own lessons from that.”

He advises new guitarists to practice scales along with ear training to become fluid as improvisers. “You conceive of a solo in your mind and then play that exact thing with your hands. Don’t hunt and peck. Conceptualize, then play it perfectly the first time.” He practices by improvising on his repertoire for at least an hour per day, and he teaches these skills in his workshops and online streams.

Friday nights Tyler performs a solo acoustic and electric concert, Saturdays bring a two-hour instructional “Guitar Workout,” and Mondays are allotted for “Play Along Jams,” which are a weekly highlight for many homebound musicians of all skill levels. Streams are no cost and are publicly accessible at www.facebook/tylerguitar.

Music fans and players may tune in to Grant’s offerings for the foreseeable future, he says. And while the virus has created a new online landscape for live music by necessity, will Grant continue his popular series once we’re all allowed to leave the house?  “There are so many unknowns, but I hope we’ve all found an alternative medium that can sustain itself and that we can all sustain each other through this [period]. But I also really hope we can all get out and play gigs again. The future is wide open right now.”

All virtual dates listed on Tyler’s website at www.tylergrant.com

Originally published in Americana Rhythm Music Magazine

Leadership Bluegrass: Week of the Tornado

I’ve finally had a quiet Sunday to contemplate my Leadership Bluegrass experience. It’s been a crazy week in our household, with the tornado path in our neighborhood, the first Tennessee coronavirus confirmation, Cora’s school closure + subsequent talent show performance last night.

Neil Young sang, “Tell me why is it hard to make arrangements with yourself, when you’re old enough to repay but young enough to sell.” When I was young, I didn’t get it. Now this very sentiment defines my daily struggle. I’m working hard to have a creative career. I’m a hands-on single mom, probably too hands-on (do I need to practice fiddle with the kids every night? No. But it’s the highlight of my day…). And as the kids have become more independent, my desire to give back to music and community has increased. How do I manage the trifecta of self + parent + service? Like Neil said, how can I make this arrangement with myself?

Last October, I applied to an intensive 3-day program called Leadership Bluegrass through International Bluegrass Music Association (IBMA) to find out. I asked for recommendation letters from Jack Waddey, Alison Brown, and Ted Shupe, all busy community leaders who stopped what they were doing to help a girl out. And, as Meredith Watson can attest, I was pretty sure I wouldn’t get accepted.

I was accepted in December. So what next? I received emails explaining how I could mentally prepare for the experience. I began to realize there were many people working incredibly hard behind the scenes to plan for my leadership learning experience.

Upon arrival at the BMI boardroom on Monday, March 2, our 26-person class was greeted by volunteers from all over the country; they’d traveled to Nashville to run this program. I was floored by the amount of effort and care undertaken by Kathy Hanson, Nate Lee, Annie Savage, Nolan Lawrence, Kris Truelsen, Jordan Laney, Dustin Boyd, Ron Raxter, and Janet Brightly, as well as Paul Schiminger and Casey Campbell from IBMA. They had planned seminars, tours, panels, concerts, receptions and meals with the finest possible attention to detail. The authenticity of their belief in the program struck me on the first morning and resonated throughout my experience there.

The 25 class members I met had impressive resumes, yet each person was clearly open to learning. I realized that everyone had a different reason for being there, but everyone shared the goal of learning as much as they could.

Ned Luberecki pointed out that Leadership Bluegrass alums often have a difficult time summarizing the program, and now I understand why. This year, the program covered topics as varied as leadership, social media, music publishing and licensing, generational differences, entrepreneurial business tools, education, live music presentation, legalities for non-profits, and more. Panels were led and attended by top business leaders, executives and musicians. I was humbled by their achievements and their advice.

My leadership personality takeaway? I’m an “Orange,” according to our quickie litmus test. Only three other classmates joined me as Oranges. We are high-energy, enthusiastic, creative, skillful, flexible, and validated by visible results. Our little team created an “Art First Train,” signifying our Wild West approach to creativity and results. I really clicked with these folks, and now I know why.

My Orange traits came to light in the days following the program. I was pretty reserved when it came to thinking of topic ideas during the heat of the class. But after the program ended, in my own creative space, ideas began to flow. I had to start writing them down.

Each classmate, impressive in his/her own right, added an individual stamp to the week. Here’s a rundown, from my perspective:

-Worth Dixon: D’Addario Strings (NY). I’ve been a D’Addario artist since 2006, so I already liked Worth before I met him; I admire D’Addario as a company. Worth is unique and impressive with his background as an engineer. He approached me with the new XT Strings line and asked me to try them out…and he was able to explain the science behind the technology of the strings. I wish I understood! D’Addario is lucky to have him on their team.

-Brian Paul Swenk: FloydFest, Banjo Player (VA) I bonded with Brian over our shared “Orange” personality traits, and in another life he might become my therapist. With a warm and relaxed presence, Brian radiates the values of a life given to music on many levels. Or maybe I just liked him because he’s from the best state (Virginia).

-Suzy Thompson: Berkeley Old Time Convention, Old Time Artist (CA). I jammed with Suzy on Monday night, and I appreciated her fire on the fiddle. She personifies a life serving music well, and I admired her from the moment I met her.

-Rick Faris: Guitarist, Special Consensus (TN). A fellow “Orange,” I’ve long admired his guitar skills. We both recall a 2004 festival in Missouri when I followed him around and learned his guitar licks. He was vocal and added much insight to discussions.

-Jake Blount: Artist-banjo, fiddle (Washington, DC). Jake said some interesting things in class and then I got to hear him sing and play Monday night at the jam. Wow. He’s a timeless talent. I’m glad we became friends. During the Silent Auction, I had to let him have my desired item (a black hoodie) when he didn’t have enough fake money. I could tell he wanted it more than my son could want it! Good move on my part—I think it’s why we’re still friends.

-Marianne Kovatch: Old Time musician, Blue Ridge Music Center (VA). We jammed together on Monday night, and she exemplified Old Time etiquette, welcoming me into the fold. She was vocal and involved in discussions, and I admired the multi-faceted musical life she has created, which serves her community and others.

-Jen Danielson: Pandora (TN). I met her in the elevator on the first morning. She’s a badass overseeing Americana, bluegrass and country at Pandora after a decade at CMT. She was warm, friendly and involved in discussions.

-Greg Garrison: Bass player of ‘slam-grass’ kings Leftover Salmon, composer, music educator extraordinaire (CO). We’ve known each other from the Colorado music scene since my Boulder Hit & Run days in 2003. His perspective as a Rockies jam-grasser was a priceless addition to our group. He is a talented solo artist in his own right (check out his new album ‘Sycamore’ on Spotify) and knows what it’s like to be a single parent musician.

-Ned Luberecki: Sirius Radio Host, Banjo Player & Teacher (TN). I met Ned when we were both playing a festival near Mt. Rushmore, South Dakota, in 2004. I’ve always been a fan of his banjo playing and wacky personality, and I’m grateful of his generosity as a friend, as well. He serves music and community in many ways.

-Fred Knittel: Smithsonian Folkways marketing specialist + folk radio host. (Washington, DC). I sat next to him the first day; he was warm, intelligent, friendly, and involved in discussions.

-Dave Howard: Louisville Folk School Executive Director. I knew him from his days as a touring mandolinist with 23 String Band. I’m impressed with his “adulting” as a bluegrasser, and meeting people like Dave is one of the main reasons I wanted to attend this conference. He leads by example.

-Evie Ladin: Old Time Artist (CA). I jammed with Evie on Monday night, and we bonded as members of the “Orange” club. She always had a good insight in group discussions and was the leader of the “Art First Train” in our exhibit of wild and wacky Orange behavior.

-Thomas Cassell: Wonderful mandolinist/singer from the best state (Virginia). I presented his graduation plaque at the graduation ceremony and look forward to jamming with him in the future.

-Ethan Charles: IBMA, (TN). I think it’s pretty cool that Ethan came to IBMA as an ‘outsider’ (non-bluegrasser), and now he’s on the ‘inside’ (works full time for IBMA). He brought an outsider perspective to our discussions, and I think we need that!

-David Brower: Piedmont Council of Traditional Music (NC). David and I sat together on the first day, and I was pleased to get to know him a little better throughout the three days. I respected his insights and feedback during discussions.

-Michelle Lee: WOBL Radio Host (OH). I’ve known Michelle for years as she’s generously given herself to presenting bluegrass music on-air. I’ve always admired her passion for this music, and I now admire her even more for her persistence and achievements (IBMA 2019 Broadcaster of the Year Award!)

-Ed Leonard: Billy Blue Records President, Attorney (TN). Despite his impressive and intimidating resume, Ed is a human like the rest of us. I’m amazed that he was able to attend—he’s the father of nine children!

-Didier Philippe: La Roche Bluegrass Festival (France). It was a pleasure to spend time with Didier during meals and tours. We worked on a team during the business class, and I was impressed to learn about his many accomplishments as the coordinator of the most important bluegrass event in Europe.

-Natalya Zoe Weinstein: Artist, Zoe & Cloyd (NC). Natalya is a wonderful fiddler and mother of a 5 year old. It’s amazing what she’s able to pull off as a touring artist, educator, and mom, and I love meeting inspiring musicians of her caliber. I’m glad we were able to connect and play together at her show at the Station Inn on Thursday night!

-Lauren Price Napier: The Price Sisters (KY) Impressive young singer and mandolin player, Lauren is also an authentic, humble and likeable person. I am glad I was able to connect with her on several levels during team discussions and during meals. I can’t wait to see how her career unfolds!

-Ange Rees: Dorrigo Folk & Bluegrass Festival (Australia). Ange added such a unique perspective to the word “folk” music, as she comes from another continent. I always appreciated her input and feedback. Her presence added so much value to our class, in more ways than one. I drove 15 minutes to class, yet Ange traveled all the way from Australia to be there—I respected that!

-Ben Wright: Henhouse Prowlers, Bluegrass Ambassadors (IL). I had heard of the Henhouse Prowlers of Chicago, a successful touring bluegrass band. But I was unaware of and blown away by Bluegrass Ambassadors, a nonprofit Ben co-founded. The band travels as musical diplomats and shares music throughout the world, working with the US State Department. Ben personified the Neil Young message I mentioned earlier and was an example to many of us.

-Abi Tapia: Country Music Hall of Fame & Museum (TN) I met Abi many years ago when I was working the door at the Station Inn. She’s become an integral part of the CMHOF’s education program, and she’s a wonderful musician herself. I’m proud to know her and respected her insights during class discussions.

-Amanda Thompson: Frankfort Bluegrass Festival (IL) I introduced Amanda on the first day, so I learned that, like me, she’s a busy mom of two young kids and wears many hats. I admired her persistence in bluegrass and appreciated her time apart from her family to attend the conference each day.

-Roxanne Tromly: Bluegrass Music Hall of Fame & Museum (KY). Insightful, intelligent, and vocal during discussion, Roxanne inspired me with her resume and even more so in person.

 

Now for the follow through. Yes, I’m busy with the kids, with my new album, and with all of my boring adulting prerequisites like paying the insurance bill. But I leave this conference inspired by the many stories I heard and the people I met. These classmates and planning committee volunteers have found ways to serve music and community in their own ways, in their own communities.  I’d like to thank them for sharing their time with me, and to let them know that I learned a lot from their examples. Wish me luck as I seek my own recipe for the balancing act. 

The Meet-and-Greet Fail

My Fragile Ego: Meet-and-Greet Fail with Gloria Steinem

Gloria Steinem had me at “I Was a Playboy Bunny.” She was real. She was funny. She was smart and pretty. By the way, her book was called Outrageous Acts and Everyday Rebellions, and was presumably a book about feminism, but that didn’t matter much to me. I was an impressionable 14 year old, eager for gals I could idolize and idealize. I was in eighth grade.

Annoyingly, I started incorporating her ideas into my English papers at school. Didn’t much matter what the paper was about; I was determined to prove to my teachers that I was an original thinker (and by original, it seems that meant transmuting 1980’s Gloria Steinem ideas into an analysis of Tess of the D’Urbervilles).

When I was a senior in high school, Steinem released Revolution from Within: A Book of Self-Esteem. My spring term papers were thus loaded heavily with arguments from this well. My teacher at St. Christopher’s School saw right through the charade, and he asserted, impatiently, “So…if we all just feel good about ourselves, we’ll all succeed?”

When I landed in Ann Arbor freshman year, I didn’t know a single one of the 30,000 undergrads at University of Michigan. I introduced myself to a gal I recognized from orientation. Dana. Turns out she was from Toledo. “Toledo!” I exclaimed, excitedly. “That’s where Gloria Steinem is from!” She gave me a blank look and asked, “Who?”

Dana became my best friend. I dragged her, and several other freshmen women from our dorm, to the Michigan Theater when Gloria Steinem came to speak. I was excited to hear my idol in person, and I couldn’t believe my good luck when she announced that she’d be signing books after the presentation. We freshmen stood in line, edging closer in anticipation.

Finally, it was our turn. I shook Steinem’s hand and blurted, “I have read all of your books, I’ve admired your work for so many years, thank you so much for coming to Ann Arbor, blah, blah blah….” I ended the worshipful monologue with, “This is my best friend Dana, and she is also from Toledo!” Steinem barely glanced at me, turned to Dana and said “Wow! You’re from Toledo! That’s fantastic—it’s really great to meet you, Dana. What are you majoring in? Why are you here?” And so on. I stood there, the bump on the log, while Gloria and Dana had their moment.

Later, Dana and I laughed about the encounter. I made fun of myself for being the over-zealot. She laughed about her innocence (she’d actually never read a Steinem book, nor was she actually all that interested in Steinem—she’d attended the presentation to spend time with me).

But I never read another Gloria Steinem book again. And I lost touch with her work and her ideas. Not intentionally—not like, “Ha, I’ll show HER for ignoring me”—more like, a vague, unintentional disconnection took place over time. If I’d actually thought about it, it might’ve sounded something like this: “I’ve lost that special inner connection I thought I had with her. I thought her ideas were special to me, but I am not even connected enough for a brief, meaningful hello with her.”

Years later, I’m now a touring folk musician. In bluegrass, I’ve been through plenty of meet-and-greets. We call it the “Shake and Howdy” portion of the show. We wait in line to talk to bluegrass artists, and we have our moment—get the album signed, get the picture taken. I’ve been touring for a long enough to understand that it’s part of the show. Or, less euphemistically, it’s part of the…job.

That sounds awful, doesn’t it? But some audience members seem to intuit this, and they give a quick spiel about how much they’ve enjoyed your work, or why they felt connected with a certain song. It really is a wonderful part of the gig—to meet people who’ve connected with your work. But if you’re at the level of someone like Gloria Steinem—a generational feminist icon—how on earth can you patiently trudge through all of the many self-respecting admirers, enthusiasts, casual attendees, and/or insecure over-zealots as each night’s meet-and-greet goes on, and on, and on, and on?

It was probably refreshing to meet good ol’ Dana, the pretty Toledo freshman who had never heard of Gloria Steinem a few months ago.

But, in your fatigue, is it okay to unintentionally alienate a true and honest young fan—someone who has waded through all of your literature and dragged a horde of innocent young bystanders (and potential fans) to the show, besides?

So this brings me to my proposition. There needs to be a “Fragile Ego” line at meet-and-greets. You are allowed to stand in this line if you have met these requirements: A) You have read all of the presenter’s works/ listened to all of their albums. B) You have studied these works with great intensity, fervor, and passion, and you have attempted to assimilate them into your own work or daily life. C) This meeting holds great importance to your self-worth, for you have wrapped up a great deal of your self-acceptance in how well you’ve assimilated that person’s work.

From a business perspective: good call, right? Who wants to alienate her die-hard fans--the ones who go great lengths to champion your work and spread your virtues? But…how was Gloria to know that she’d alienate me by blowing me off? I was one of thousands of handshakes on a long book tour. From my naive perspective, though, I didn’t realize that I was that unimportant to her.

For true fans, it’s not business. It’s passion, ideas, and connection.

I mentioned my Fragile Ego Line idea to a music biz friend the other day. Her face lit up in recognition, and she said, “Yeah! You mean those people who come up to criticize you after the show?” I said, “Oh, no, actually; my line is for the opposite problem. But, very good point. There needs to be a different Fragile Ego line for those people!”

Those people can be in Line C, for criticism. They’ll come after ‘normal’ people and the other innocent ‘fragile ego’ die-hard fans, and the artist can then run away to the green room before Line C gets their turn on the platform.  Problem solved?