Noam Pikelny and Punch Brothers
Two Interviews from Banjo Newsletter in 2004 and 2008
This week Punch Brothers released The Energy Curfew Music Hour — an indescribable collection of 8 podcast episodes of music and humor (a la Chris Thile’s Live From Here, formally Prarie Home Companion). I just binged the series, and there is much to chew on, as with any Punch Brothers release.
The beginning of each show has the band playing new material, like an arrangement of this Adés piece, then a discussion on composition, followed by a new Punch Brothers work. The remainder of the hour-long episodes have a series of musical guests with comedy interludes. The beauty of Live From Here was Thile’s focus on and elevation of music. Music is front and center throughout these 8 hours, with arrangements of the Goldberg Variations, this Bulgarian piece (which was included on the legendary Voyager Golden Record), the aforementioned Adés piece, and their spectacular new compositions. My favorite segment is called “Breaking Trad,” which deconstructs traditional material as only the Punch Brothers can (the choro tune in Episode 7 is badass).
There is a loosely explained theme about a “dark day” and a lack of electricity that, in truth, is far less compelling than the music (it also makes no sense why they need to play acoustic instruments while the electricity is still on). As much as I love this band, and dig the show, I am unsure how it may translate to a newbie. The show begins almost mid-sentence, as though this is episode 35 (or 350), never offering any “world-building.” The lack of context, alongside the lack of any show notes (this deep musical content would benefit from detailed “liner notes), makes for a mysterious (though welcome) addition to Punch Brothers’ catalog. Give it a focused listen, look up these phenomenal guests (like James Taylor, Norah Jones, and Jason Isbell), and enjoy a respite from this intense political season.
Now, on to banjo:
As you’ll read below, I’ve known banjoist Noam Pikelny for over 20 years. He has been an indefatigable friend and mentor over the years, offering sage advice as I bought my pre-war Gibson banjo and when recording my first album, Expedition. He invited me to the studio for a day while Punch Brothers recorded their album Punch, to a 2-hour band soundcheck in Denver, and out to dinner at Frasca with the band discussing everything from Mahler to Martha White — all were extraordinarily impactful on my musicianship and treasured memories.
After over 20 years of Noam being in the zeitgeist of modern banjo music, his music has assimilated into the collective sound of banjo (dig youngsters like Max Allard), and it is easy to forget the profundity of his playing. Rereading this quote from Thile is a good reminder:
“I get this feeling about Noam that ultimately there is really nothing he can’t do. Even if he can’t do it right now, he’ll be able to eventually. There is a diligence that I find utterly remarkable about Noam’s musicianship. A lot of times, people work that hard because they have to, but Noam is one of those rare musicians who just is that diligent, in addition to being ludicrously talented.”
I could sing Noam’s praises for days (like his humor, compositions, or his stunning bluegrass banjo playing), and maybe over the years on The Confluence I’ll get there. For now, enjoy these two interviews from Banjo Newsletter.
For your listening pleasure while reading, here are some of my favorite videos that showcase each of Punch Brothers’ talents — Chris Thile (his solo starts at 4:35), Noam Pikelny (his solo starts at 3:17), Chris Eldridge, Gabe Witcher (his solo starts at 1:00), Brittany Haas (one of the most joyful videos ever), and Paul Kowert. And one more from Punch Brothers (that “Boll Weevil” is breathtaking).
The 2008 interview focuses on Thile’s work called “The Blind Leaving the Blind.” Give that a listen here. I still love this piece, and Noam’s banjo sounds so good.
And lastly, there is no “the” in Punch Brothers. Many people say that, and the band never corrects it, but they are named after this piece by Mark Twain, and in fine Thile fashion, there is always a slight bit of wordplay present.
March 2008
There is something jaw-dropping about Noam Pikelny’s banjo playing. His mastery and agility—his ability to play lines and scalar sections with fluidity, tone, drive, and conviction—are all astounding. We all love the earthy, visceral sound of the banjo, but a musician who can play with the utmost technical prowess and yet retain that visceral vibe is truly special. Since Noam graced the cover of BNL in July 2004, his musical journey (via the John Cowan Band, Crooked Still, and Tony Trischka’s Double Banjo Spectacular) has led him to the upper echelons of stringband musicians. Mandolin virtuoso Chris Thile of the now defunct Nickel Creek brought together a new crop of young string masters, as he put it, “to put his stamp on the traditional bluegrass band.” Named Punch Brothers after a Mark Twain short story, the group includes Noam on banjo, Thile on mandolin, Chris “Critter” Eldridge (of the Infamous Stringdusters and the Seldom Scene) on guitar, Gabe Witcher (of the Jerry Douglas Band) on fiddle, and Greg Garrison (of Leftover Salmon and Ron Miles) on bass. Their new album, “Punch,” released on Nonesuch, marks the beginning of a thrilling new chapter in stringband music. The album’s centerpiece is a 40-minute composition by Thile entitled The Blind Leaving the Blind. Fusing stringband instrumentation with high art, it displays virtuosic performance and cutting-edge modern composition while retaining the presentation style of a bluegrass band. Written into the piece are sections suggesting traditional bluegrass—harmony vocals, tune-like sections, and improvisational segments. But it also features counterpoint sections, dissonant themes, and complex melodic development. It premiered to a sold-out crowd at Carnegie Hall’s Zankel Hall in New York City in March 2007, and it was performed without charts or music stands. Chris Thile, now 27, began playing mandolin at age five. He was home-schooled and essentially raised in the parking lots and stages of bluegrass festivals. He recorded his first of five solo records at age 13. Nickel Creek, which disbanded in 2007, sold over two million records and won a Grammy. Thile was awarded “Folk Musician of the Year” by the BBC in 2007; he collaborates and tours with bassist Edgar Meyer, and has an upcoming project with classical violinist Hilary Hahn. He brought Punch Brothers together in 2006 to record How to Grow a Woman From the Ground, a progressive bluegrass record. Regarding Noam, Chris Thile says, “I get this feeling about Noam that ultimately there is really nothing he can’t do. Even if he can’t do it right now, he’ll be able to eventually. There is a diligence that I find utterly remarkable about Noam’s musicianship. A lot of times, people work that hard because they have to, but Noam is one of those rare musicians who just is that diligent, in addition to being ludicrously talented.”
For this project, Noam plays a lot of material not idiomatic for the banjo, and he worked hard to develop techniques for playing it on the 5-string banjo. This interview contains language and discussion that might be more apropos to a classical musician— counterpoint, playing specific parts, and concepts like metric modulation. Noam’s process of learning challenging music on the 5-string is hopefully something readers can gain inspiration and ideas from.
Could you describe The Blind Leaving the Blind?
NP: It’s a four-movement work composed for mandolin, banjo, fiddle, guitar, bass and voices. A lot of the themes are firmly rooted in folk, bluegrass and new-acoustic music. For example, the first movement starts with very intricate counterpoint with all the instruments playing a theme that may not, at first, sound like a fiddle tune, but is a sneak-peak at the first big theme—which I would consider a fiddle tune-type melody. Chris is such a skilled composer that he can take a simple idea and develop it quite extensively. He’s got a toolbox where the smallest idea seems to have infinite possibilities. At times the melodies are fast moving and written out note-for-note. Other times what’s written resembles something more like a vocal melody. In those sections, Chris will write out the melody but it’s up to us to figure out a more idiomatic way to play it on our instruments. Those sections may say, “Slow moving melodies with rolling patterns,” while other parts might just have chord charts, saying “back-up with rolling style or chop.” I approach those sections as I would kicking off or backing up a classic bluegrass vocal number. So there’s a lot of freedom, and the end result is that there are a lot of individual contributions from us. I’d think the movements that are based on the folk-ier and more bluegrass-like themes will be most accessible at first. But even those parts explore more harmonic and rhythmic territory than listeners familiar with bluegrass and folk are typically accustomed to hearing in one piece of continuous music.
Lyrically, Chris is telling a story. He is coming to terms with the recent events in his life; getting married and divorced, moving around the country, and getting older. The last movement of the piece is pretty crazy and very fast. It’s traumatic, and the musical turmoil mirrors the words. The lyrics are about trying to come to terms with his belief in God, how his religious views have changed after his divorce, and getting out in the world and meeting people that have very different religious backgrounds and views. He sings about trying to accept that he can be of faith, but his faith can evolve. It’s deep, and it’s important for me to not just play my parts as a technician—instead, playing, knowing its intent. We’ve been working on it behind closed doors for about two years. The things that seemed really impossible at first are starting to feel more natural and we’re approaching it as music rather than a mammoth technical task. That’s our challenge as an ensemble, to play this as music and not let the technical hurdles (the length, having to memorize it, the difficult parts) get in the way of the big picture.
I find new things in this music every time I listen to it. Because we are playing this live, I still have to think about my parts more than everyone else’s. I have to focus on others to know when to come in, or get certain cues for how my parts align; lots of technical stuff. When I listen to it on a stereo I can listen in a different way. If I just focus on the fiddle for a movement, I pick upon things I hadn’t heard before. Chris has put so much thought and time into his composition. The result is music with many layers you can peel back. I think one of his biggest triumphs are his transitions. You can be in a fiddle tune idea, and 40 seconds later you’re in some kind of metric modulation or counterpoint, but the transition isn’t jarring. There are sections where you end up in a different feel, different key, or a different pulse, and it’s surprisingly natural.
The fourth movement is very fast and intense. Has that started to feel musical when playing it?
NP: Definitely. Once you get past worrying whether you remember your parts or you can execute them, then you’re able to shape it more with dynamics and phrasing. And you can work on pushing or pulling the lines. It’s really interesting because on paper the fourth movement looks the hardest. It has the most range, and is the fastest, and alternates between time signatures of 7 and 8. I’m going from the second fret to the seventeenth at a fast tempo, with not always much in between. So on paper, it’s the most challenging. I had to practice getting that up to speed and playing it clean. But it has become one of the easier parts for me. The hardest part is the tempo, but that has been easier to conquer, over time, than some of the other challenges in the piece. The slow second movement requires incredible sensitivity to the rest of band in regards to phrasing and dynamics. Those things take time to establish. Not that the fourth movement is easy or unimpressive, but I would have never guessed the slow movement would require more care and attention than the ultra fast parts in odd time signatures.
Did you work from notation or use tab?
NP: I tabbed out everything that Chris gave me. He would e-mail the main score in the software program Finale, and I would extract my part and paste it into a banjo tab staff, and then revise my fingerings. When practicing it, any time I would revise a fingering, I would go back into the software and change it. The biggest asset of the tab is being able to visualize the right hand pattern. Musicians that are reading standard notation are seeing the contour of the musical line, whether it is ascending or descending. But with tab, the numbers on each string create a contour that is directly related to your right hand picking pattern. That’s as valuable to me as the left hand string and fret indication. Early on I thought I would just use tab as an aid for small sections, but for stuff like this I honestly don’t think I would learn it as well. It would have been an incredible effort to learn my parts in standard notation. The other guys just worked from standard notation. I tried my best to arrange my parts as a banjo player, using techniques tied to the tradition whenever possible. And the right hand patterns are such a big part of that. And I’m not shy to tab it out; it definitely helped me learn the music.
Working on the fourth movement and getting your parts up to speed—has that improved your single-string abilities?
NP: Before this project, I could maybe have played Follow the Leader at that same tempo, but it definitely would have pushed me. When I first started working on the piece, I went through tons of revisions of how I was going to play it. I would tab it out as I was going, and kept revising when I decided to change fingerings. I started to come up with little theories of how to best deal with string crossings. I found myself using my middle finger in single string lines, depending on context. Especially on the fourth movement, the tempo and range forced me to reinvestigate my right hand. This has had a huge influence on my technique with bluegrass and fiddle tunes now. It’s been surprisingly natural to apply the right hand ideas to other things.
I started to experiment with single-string by using the middle in place of the thumb or index, and found that I was often using the middle finger instead of the thumb on downbeats. A lot of these passages blur the lines between single-string and melodic. Much of it is in a closed position with no open strings, but I wouldn’t really call it “single-string” because of all the string crossings and shifting. The right-hand patterns are all over the place. So the challenge became to play any kind of inside roll or single-string connected to an inside roll, and do it comfortably and in time. It took a while to get that up and running. I’d try to figure out every way to arrange a line, and would find the shape that worked best for both the left hand shifting and right hand picking. Once again, the tab was so valuable for that process. In these passages, I didn’t want to revert to playing the whole thing single-string. Combining single-string with just a snippet of one of the standard rolls sounded more authentic to me. It’s funny but one of my guiding forces in arranging my parts was a fear that I’d sound like a guitar player playing complicated music on a 5-string. Sometimes that led to more work, but I wanted it to be as banjoistic as possible
For example, the opening theme (of the fourth movement) gets restated by the banjo in different keys throughout the movement, but I play it differently each time. I could have used the same closed position fingering, shifting and right hand pattern, but I treated each passage individually, hoping to find the most convincing way of playing it on a banjo. At certain points it became a source of controversy in the band. Someone would say, “Why are you playing it like that? You shouldn’t be using an open string for that.” But this was part of a great ongoing exchange between the band members as to how we should play our parts. I had a lot to learn from the other guys, especially in left hand technique. At one point we had some practice time in New York for a couple days, and Gabe and I were working in the same building. I would have an idea about how to navigate a string crossing and ask Gabe, “How would you play this if you had to play this on these two strings on your fiddle?” Gabe and Thile were a fantastic source for arranging this music on banjo.
Did you bounce any ideas off other banjo payers?
NP: I bounced a couple things off of Béla Fleck, and he was very helpful. We got together a few times over the last few years and I always got good feedback and helpful criticism. Béla loves playing around with fingerings and is always trying to refine techniques and come up with new methods. The majority of the passages in the piece can be played in many different ways. Bela’s playing is so elegant and masterful that I trusted his input would be valuable, even if we disagreed on a fingering or a technique. There were certain sections that I was struggling with, and he turned me on to some fingerings that were obvious to him, that I had never even considered. I would show him some of the stuff I was working on, and he would come up with another way to do it that he thought was more economical. But I couldn’t play it as quick. And then he would try to play some of my fingerings, and he couldn’t play them as easily. He definitely made me aware that what comes easiest and most naturally at first may not always be the most musical or effective—and therefore investigating all the options is really important. I was so excited to play this music for him, as this music and ensemble wouldn’t exist if not for Béla Fleck. He is one of the main inspirations for all of us in the band, and the most central figure in my musical upbringing. For those reasons, it was very meaningful but also kind of surreal to be able to go to him with this new music.
How did you memorize the entire 40 minutes of music?
NP: That was one of the most stressful things. When I started getting back into relearning the piece [they recorded a demo several months prior to the premier at Carnegie Hall], I was really concerned about memorizing it as a whole. We recorded almost all of it without music in front of us. But we would memorize it in chunks—working on a 10-minute section for hours, and then recording it. But we always assumed we would go on stage and play it without music. Personally, playing it with music in front of me would be a lot harder. I would have the visual cues, but then I’d have to worry about turning pages, keeping track of everything, and my attention would be all over the place. So I started at the beginning, with the music in front of me, and worked on 2-3 minute sections at a time. Then I’d turn the page over to see if I could get through it by memory. I wouldn’t move on until I could play that section without the music. There are certain sections that were a lot easier to memorize, but what was especially tricky was the backup parts, and the counterpoint. All of those parts are highly syncopated, weaving in and out of the melody. It’s often not as singable or memorable as the main line. The little details like that were the hardest part. The process of memorizing felt natural, it just took time.
What were rehearsals like? What have you learned from rehearsing with this band?
NP: The first time we got together to rehearse this music was a real eye-opener. Everyone had started learning their own parts individually. We all came in with this confidence that we could play it, that the pieces of the puzzle would fit together easily. We had all been practicing it with metronomes, and with the Finale sound files. But when we got to New York and jumped in, it was a completely different animal. To our surprise we barely could keep it together for a minute without it collapsing. Everyone had gotten used to cueing off the metronome and the Finale sequencer from their individual practice time. Both were lifeless, but rock solid and the same every time. But this music is so responsive to one another. Playing each part requires total precision in how the part connects to what came previously, and an understanding of how other people will cue off of your line for something coming up. It’s so dependent on everyone knowing and trusting each other musically. We all became immediately aware that there is only so much work that we could do away from the group. This required a lot of ensemble rehearsal, much more than any of us had anticipated. So we got to know each other very quickly. We’d wake up and play all day until we went to sleep. When we were done playing, we’d all spread out in Chris’s apartment, on sofas and air-mattresses, trying to sleep. But we’d stay up late discussing the day’s work and what still needed to be done. This ensemble approach is one that we are still learning—what’s the most effective way to do our homework. We kind of revise our approach depending on how the group rehearsals go.
How fast can you learn new material? Like with “O Santo de Polvora” or other tunes on How to Grow a Woman From the Ground? Does it depend on the tune?
NP: I feel like I’m the slowest learner in the band. Not that it takes me any longer than the other guys to memorize the music, but it usually takes me longer to adapt a melody or part to banjo than it does for the other guys. With O Santo, Chris made a tape of it, and I spent an afternoon working with it to get all the intricacies and ornamentation. But with a tune like that, Chris could play it for Gabe a couple times, and Gabe would be able to play it back right at him. There are so many variables that can make it easy or challenging: what key it’s in can make a huge difference in how quickly I can learn it, which position I am playing in, the tempo, etc. O Santo, which is pretty intricate, now feels really comfortable since we’ve played it so much. I feel that one of my real strengths is my ability to arrange this music effectively on the banjo, but it would be nice to speed up the process and do more of it on the fly. I do feel that all the technical work that went into playing The Blind Leaving the Blind is gradually assimilating itself into my overall musicianship and expanding my toolbox. I think that if I keep up with it, eventually material like O Santo will become easier to arrange, possibly even in real-time. Then I’d be able to improvise with much more freedom. I think a lot of the challenge has to do with the nature of the instrument—the tuning and scale. It seems to not be as friendly as the other bluegrass instruments for arranging non-idiomatic parts. But I do believe that these limitations and barriers can be reduced. Every time I work through challenging arrangements, I find shortcuts and recognize patterns that seem to apply almost universally to other parts and styles. It’s been surprising to me how much of the right hand technique I worked on for playing The Blind Leaving the Blind applies to learning new bluegrass or fiddle tunes. I’ve noticed that some of the stuff that used to take a long time is now happening with more ease, but I’m not sure there will ever be a way to put something down on banjo as easily as it can be done on violin or mandolin.
What is it like working with Chris Thile?
NP: He is such an intense person and musician; my experience so far has been equally inspiring and challenging. Challenging, both as a technician playing difficult music, but also as a musician trying to make an artistic contribution. Most people would think that the technical demands of playing with Chris would’ve had the biggest impact on me, but what is most notable is being around someone with such a musical vision. The challenge and pressure of collaborating with someone of such strong conviction can outweigh the technical hurdles of the music. When I approach these Punch Brothers recordings or shows, I feel I have a responsibility to this music and these musicians that far exceeds the pressure of the technical aspects of playing. I feel like all of a sudden I’ve been thrown into a project that’s really important and has far reaching implications. This is the first time I’ve been part of something that’s truly a collaborative band situation. Chris is the de facto leader, and is the one who composed The Blind Leaving the Blind, but one of his main goals in writing it was to create music that would allow for the expression of our individual musicalities and personalities.
Recording the How to Grow a Woman from the Ground album was a good opportunity for all of us to establish ourselves [as a band] in a format that was more comfortable. Now we’ve jumped into this situation where the music is highly arranged, as Chris has composed a string quintet with pages and pages of parts. I have to remind myself that this needs to be played as music, and not as unfriendly banjo parts. That’s my personal challenge, and I feel that I’m succeeding in playing the stuff on a technical level. But all of us in the band are still trying to get to a point where we’ll play something this complex as authentically and effectively as we could play a bluegrass or fiddle tune. Chris wanted to write music that we could each put our own stamp on. He didn’t want us to be “string musicians” just reading the charts and following directions. There’s a folk and bluegrass sensibility to a lot of the composition.
One example is the section towards the beginning of the third movement that reminds me of a certain back-up passage in Béla Fleck’s Ode to Earl. If a classical musician without any experience to stringband music played this part it would probably sound ridiculous, as it’s really a bluegrass-y idea. The piece goes back and forth between highly arranged instrumental sections, “songs,’ individual and even full band improvisation. Usually, variety like that would happen only on different gigs. With this piece, Chris has given us a vehicle to bring it all together. This is his vision, a marriage of the folk and the formal. So that’s the big picture of playing with him, and it has put me in a really interesting spot. Very challenging. Very inspiring.
When I first met Chris I was already a huge fan of his music—I’d learned it and transcribed it. I thought early on that there was some magic behind his music, and being around him would maybe rub off. After playing with him for a couple of years, it’s clear that he has an immense natural talent. But as far as I can tell, the real reason he’s the player he is is because he has worked harder than anybody. A big part of his musicianship is tied to his incredible virtuosic mandolin technique. My technique is very meager in comparison, so when things get over my head I’ll try to extract what I can just through observation of his approach or intent.
BNL: I would disagree with that about technique. Chris is a different person, and also the two instruments are very different.
NP: They are different, but Chris plays from a zone where he can play any idea, with seemingly no barrier between what’s in his head and what he executes with his hands. That’s a very enviable spot to be in. I think there are very few acoustic musicians that can do what he does. When I think of others in that class, they are mostly jazz musicians and horn players. They’ll go play a show or recording session with virtually no mistakes. Chris would disagree—he thinks he makes mistakes all the time—but those are different kinds of mistakes. In his view, a mistake may be that the shape of his solo wasn’t as effective as it could have been, based on what had come before it and what is coming up after.
BNL: Has it affected your playing in other ways?
NP: I feel like I’ve gotten access to a goldmine of musical information and ideas on the banjo through The Blind Leaving the Blind, and this band. I kind of see this record as my weird banjo degree of some sort. I feel that I’m a different and hopefully better musician for the work that went into learning and recording it. But that’s kind of an extension of how I’ve approached the banjo over time, which has been transcribing solos for banjo of melodies from guitar, mandolin and fiddle. For years I felt that I was unlocking areas of the instrument that I may not have stumbled upon if I was only approaching the instrument from a classical or traditional approach of scales, arpeggios, theory etc. So this is an opportunity where I have to learn music as challenging as a Bach solo violin work. But the difference here is that I’m performing and recording this new stuff. Everything before, such as transcribing Chris Thile’s music, or Scott Nygaard’s, or Bach partitas—that was all homework and would come out in other ways. Arranging, performing and recording this new music has required a deep personal investigation into the banjo. This experience has been invaluable, but honestly some nights it feels like I am just hanging on.
What is your current banjo?
NP: It’s a 1941 Gibson PB-7 top tension. Charlie Cushman had just started working at Gruhn Guitars setting up banjos and this was the first great banjo he got to work on there. I went to Gruhn’s with David Grier and played the banjo. I really liked it, though I couldn’t imagine taking the plunge, given the prices of pre-war flatheads. Fast-forward three months later: Gruhn still had the banjo and I had been checking the website every couple of days to see if it was still there. I went back and played it again for a whole day. Charlie said to me, “That is your banjo; you need to do whatever you can to buy it.” When Charlie said that, it stuck with me. He believes there is the right instrument for the right musician, and it’s really important to recognize that. I thought it was the best flathead I had played that was available for sale. It seemed to fit my style and attack from the first time I tried it. I had a new neck built by Robin Smith. It’s unusual for a top-tension because it is mahogany, but has the traditional top-tension inlays and headstock. It has 24 frets. I wanted a mahogany neck with 24 frets, but I worried that centering the bridge on the head would change the sound too much. Robin built the neck with the fretboard overhanging the banjo head. This particular neck has made the banjo come even more alive. The C# and D (the extra two notes) sound very natural, like they’re supposed to be there. I’d say it sounds even better now than when I bought it. It’s really a remarkable instrument.
What’s next for you and Punch Brothers?
NP: We start touring in January and we’ll play about 120 shows in 2008. We’ll play The Blind Leaving the Blind as much as we can. We’re hoping that we can get the other songs and tunes we play into classical arts series via this piece, and people will be attracted to our other music as well. In those rooms, maybe some people will get to hear contemporary bluegrass and new acoustic music for the first time. And on the other hand, taking the piece into a bluegrass festival is an exciting prospect. This is a new band; it is not just one record or just one piece. This is the first of hopefully many years of touring and recording. There are four pieces on “Punch” aside from The Blind Leaving the Blind, and they are co-written by the five of us. While not long-form composition, some do have composed parts. But nothing was written down. It was just the five of us sitting down and trying to write music together during a four-day retreat at Greg’s house in Bailey, Colorado. We’re all excited about keeping that type of thing going, either with shorter tunes or even a larger scale band co-write. Chris will always be writing things for us, and he’s starting to get commissions to write for other musicians. [He was commissioned to write a mandolin concerto to be premiered in the fall of 2009.] Everything that we’ve done so far has been with Nickel Creek still touring, Critter playing with the Stringdusters, Greg playing with the Drew Emmitt Band, Gabe playing with Jerry Douglas and doing his session work, and myself playing with John Cowan, Tony Trischka and others. We’re now dedicating ourselves full-time to this band, so I’m incredibly excited to see what will happen.
July 2004
In today’s post-Nickel Creek world, many of us have met hot-pickin’ wunderkind musicians. The musical inspirations and multitude of new learning tools have created an awe-inspiring next generation of bluegrassers. The exciting time of the mid-eighties with the high-caliber musicianship and wide-ranging influences, bands like Strength in Numbers moved acoustic musicians to advance their ideas, bringing tradition and fusing it with ever-far reaching influences.
All this said Noam Pikelny has something special. In a world of many wunderkinds, it takes an extraordinary level of maturity and ingenuity to rise above the tide. At 22 years old, Noam has made a rather noticeable splash into the banjo world. In 2001, he toured nationally and in Europe with the guitarist Slavek Hanzlik playing new-acoustic style music. After banjoist Mark Vann of Leftover Salmon died, Noam was offered the banjo chair in the national touring act, officially beginning October 2002. Shortly after joining Salmon, they recorded “Oh Cracker Where Art Thou?” with the rock band Cracker. Leftover Salmon has toured as a co-billing with the Sam Bush Band. In 2003, he was invited to play a duet “Tweener” set with Béla Fleck on stage at the Telluride Bluegrass Festival. He played a spectacular late night set of original acoustic music in Lyons, Colorado after RockyGrass with Matt Flinner, Darol Anger, and others. He was a featured banjo player at the 2003 IBMA banjo workshop. The fall of 2003 included a highly successful double-billed tour called “Under the Influence” with the Del McCoury Band. Most recently Noam recorded a new solo project called In the Maze with Matt Flinner, David Grier, Todd Philips, and Gabe Witcher, to be released in late summer on Compass Records.
Greg Cahill was one of Noam’s former teachers and an important influence on his playing. He says this about Noam: “I believe that the basis of Noam's superb musicianship is the fact the he is a great guy who is full of talent as well as respect for other people. He came to my home for some lessons (first with his Dad, then on his bicycle, when he would use one of my banjos), but the vast breadth of his playing today is a result of his perspective - he was always completely focused on what he felt he needed to learn and he studied the styles of many players. I find his playing today awesome and I look to Noam as another innovator on the five-string banjo.”
Noam comes across as the consummate modern banjo player. He has a spectacular right hand, the harmonic sense of a progressive musician, and an endless stream of creative ideas. It is also a thrill to play music with him. In the liner notes of the new Mark O’Connor Retrospective album, Mark described a young Bryan Sutton as an “intimidator.” Some young musicians can have that influence just by displaying their impressive musical skill at such a young age. Noam has the power in his playing to have that edge, yet he seems to hear only what is good in other’s playing. He easily puts others at ease, and helps them to play at more of their full potential.
In December 2003, fresh off the Under the Influence tour, I sat down with Noam to discuss all things banjo.
How did you hook up with Leftover Salmon?
NP: When I was in college in Champaign, Illinois I was playing in a band called Waffle Hoss with Dan Broder and Ethan James, former members of the Bluegrassholes, which also included 2 members of Yonder Mountain String Band. There was a good connection between Waffle Hoss and Yonder Mountain. They were also good friends with Greg Garrison, who is the current bass player for Leftover Salmon. Salmon came through town to play at the Canopy Club, and I got a call from Ethan saying, “I just talked to the Salmon boys and you are sitting in. Bring your banjo.” I had never met any of them before. I had a big paper to write that night, but I went anyways and had a great time. Mark Vann let me play his Crossfire, and he played his Nechville electric. We played “Shenandoah Breakdown” and “Walls of Time.” Mark and I hit it off and had some great time trading single string licks. That was the first and last time I met Mark.
So they cold-called and offered you the slot?
NP: I was set to finish my last two semesters of music school, and Salmon called because they needed a banjo player for a few gigs. At that time, Tony Furtado, Scott Vestal, and Matt Flinner had been filling the banjo slot. Salmon wasn’t seeing it as an audition, they just needed to get through those shows. But for me I realized this is as close to an audition as I would get for this kind of band, so I learned the material well. Things were as smooth as they could be for the first night with a banjo player. They seemed to know that I could make more of a commitment than Flinner or Furtado since they have very successful solo careers. So after the three gigs, we talked about it. By the time I got on the plane to fly home, it was figured out that I was going to join the band. They were eager to have consistency and return to a band where they knew who was going to be playing. They wanted to start working on new material and moving forward as opposed to worrying about who was going to play banjo each night. At this point I had spent some time in Colorado during the summer, then played these gigs. I was itching to play music professionally. I returned to Champaign, put everything on hold and moved to Colorado.
They sent me 15 CD-R’s of live shows so I could hear anything they could throw at me. When Salmon gets on stage, there’s no telling what you are going to be playing. We try to have a setlist every night, but it gets changed all the time. Some tunes in the setlist might be some things we have not played in over a year. We are lucky to have our bassist Greg Garrison and drummer Jose Martinez because they know all the material and play it well. So Greg said to me, “Make a list of the stuff on these CD’s that you know, but be familiar with all of it.” We adhered mostly to the list for the first couple of nights, but by the third night, Vince Herman (lead singer) had forgotten that I didn’t know every single song.
How would you describe Leftover Salmon?
NP: For those who haven’t seen us, it is definitely not a bluegrass band. Drew Emmit, Vince Herman, and Mark Vann played bluegrass and were in bluegrass bands; but when Salmon came together, it fused a bunch of styles. Then they started to plug in and amplify. They come from a background of loving and understanding bluegrass, but are just as into rock-n-roll, Cajun, and other styles. What they have done is created an on-stage bastardization of all the styles in every tune; you could look at any of the various influences on Salmon and flesh out those roots in every tune. There are certain tunes I have to approach like an electric guitarist, and other tunes I can back up with full-on Scruggs-style.
Essentially the band is trying to present certain textures or colors, and it is all authentic and genuine. But we don’t go on stage and play bluegrass like Ricky Skaggs and Del McCoury. If we play bluegrass, it sounds like rock; if we play something jazzy, it sounds bluegrassy. That turns some people off, but overall the Salmon-thing appeals to so many people. All sorts of people are hearing the banjo play “Shuckin’ the Corn” and digging it. But there are sacrifices. If we play “Shuckin’ the Corn” with drums and keyboards, you lose a lot of the subtlety of acoustic string band music. It is a compromise. The band’s vision is to try to take the essence of various styles of music and make them a whole, make something new. Everyone in the band is aware of those compromises, and everyone comes from different backgrounds. When I am teaching the band a fiddle tune, I am coming from an acoustic background. I am not used to hearing heavy drum fills at the end my solos. But that’s how our drummer hears it. Or playing “Groundspeed,” our keyboardist might play four continuous solos, but to me I think, “That’s not how that is supposed to be played.” But if I start playing blues tunes that he is singing, I probably play stuff just as far from the standard as taking multiple breaks in “Groundspeed.”
How was the transition taking over from Mark Vann??
NP: I am aware of the history of the band, and people will come up to me and say, “You have such big shoes to fill.” There is truth to that, but I am not taking it as a plea to make the band sound as it did six years ago. The band sounds how it does now. It is only the circumstances of the way Mark left. No one told Greg to play like their old bass player, because he quit. The circumstances of me joining are definitely different, but no one has put any pressure on me or made me feel any different. We are just playing music. I didn’t really think of it as, “I am his replacement;” I approached it as, “I am the new banjo player.” I was a big fan of Mark’s playing and quote some of his stuff. Still I never went in there thinking I had to play it like he did. When I was preparing to play with the band, I thought I needed to be aggressive, crazy, and flashy. After a couple of tours I realized I should play the music as I should play it. Many people come up to me and say in some ways I remind them of Mark, but in some ways I don’t. He approached soloing with a lot of elements of rock and country guitar. On tunes that have those possibilities, I do some of that, yet I try to come up with stuff that is melodic and lyrical. I couldn’t handle being told to learn solos note for note, or performing under constant comparison to Mark’s playing. But there are some things that I have learned that Mark did because they are cool ideas.
Do you play any of Mark’s instrumentals?
NP: I would love to play them, but Drew isn’t willing. He can’t imagine playing them on stage and then looking up and not seeing Mark there. I think it would be a great tribute to him and he would approve, and I think the fans would like it, but it is still pretty recent. It’s only been a year and a half, and they have been touring since 1989. He was like a brother. They aren’t trying to distance themselves from the reality, but they aren’t ready to get to those tunes yet.
From seeing Salmon a lot with Mark Vann, he appeared to be free to do whatever he wanted all the time. My guess is that you have total musical freedom.
NP: That is a really fun part, the total freedom. Everyone is on stage first and foremost to have fun, and the audience is there to have a great time, and not because they have certain preconceptions about what particular style of music they might be hearing. This gives everyone a lot of freedom. Which is why Bill McKay probably feels free to take four solos on “Groundspeed." If we play the same song two nights in a row, I could play it one night on acoustic banjo and the next on electric, and no one would even question me. Never has anyone told me what to play. I have received plenty of great constructive feedback from the guys in the band and have learned a lot about improvising and patience.
What do you mean by patience?
NP: Patience in building solos. I remember when I came into the band, I was playing stuff that didn’t have much space. It felt frantic. The guys wouldn’t shy away from saying, “Why don’t you just let what you are playing sit?” encouraging me to relax, to simplify what I am playing. Nobody has ever told me something like, “Don’t play a ‘chicken pickin’’ solo on this song.” In general there is a lot of freedom to do what you want. This can be a blessing and a curse. Everyone has to be on his toes.
For example, if we play a traditional tune and Drew wants to play electric fiddle with a bunch of reverb with four minutes of textures, he can. Yet there are constraints. If I started doing 15-minute banjo intro to “Shuckin’ the Corn,” we would probably have a band meeting. Overall, we try to make things work in the band as best we can. These days we are playing an Irish tune that Slavek Hanzlik wrote called “Sally Noggin.” I brought the tune to the band as something new and different to play. But we are not an Irish band, and I am not an Irish musician. So we try to arrange the tune so everyone has some kind of input and whatever he is doing is in the most appropriate place. I knew going into it that I would not ask Bill to double the melody to an Irish tune on the piano. We approached it looking at how we can extract something that Bill can play over that works in his style, something he can express himself on. So we came up with a vamp, a repetitive thing that Bill can improvise over. Essentially it is making this tune work for Salmon. Our fans are open-minded, and welcome that type of stuff; they would probably not question seeing a Hammond organ take a solo on an Irish tune.
You take some very extended solos on stage. How do you approach them? What goes through your head before or during the solo?
NP: When I started with the band, I tried to have some patterns that I could come to, some kind of harmonic chord change or some lick that I could get to. Eventually I realized every time I would play an open solo on a tune, I was trying to reference something else or thinking back to another great solo. But after playing 25 shows in 4 weeks, I will get stuck in the same habits. In really open tunes or tunes that could have a 3-minute banjo solo, I am now more familiar with the changes and what the possibilities are. Lately I have been trying not to think of what I am going to do until right before I start. Some nights it leads to really great solos, and others it doesn’t work out as well. But my goal is that I have the tools and imagination that every night something different and good comes out.
I try to keep things different but there are certain patterns I fall into. In the tune “Whispering Waters” has a D and C thing, and any of us can play as long as we want. One night on the last tour Rob McCoury was sitting in on that song and I watched him closely. He knew the chord changes and knew exactly what he was capable of, and he played an amazing Scruggs/Crowe style break for about four minutes. I thought it was the best solo on the stage that night. It was right in the pocket, it was creative, and it was confident. There may not have been as many fireworks or as many triplets, and maybe it didn’t go as far out harmonically as a jazzer might take it. But for me, I took it as “Know what you can do.” His technique is so refined that he could play over anything that falls close to what he does, and make it sound good. If it was a jazz tune in 7 with all sorts of altered chords, I couldn’t play over it, and I am not saying that since Rob is confident he could too.
Everyone has their limitations, but you have to think about what tools you have and how to use them. At first I thought I was failing every single time. I’d tell the band, “I don’t know if I should be taking solo on that tune.” I’d hear back, “Are you kidding? That was great!” “But it was just wandering.” “Yeah that’s the point! This tune is about wandering and a discovery type of mission.” People who come to see us appreciate and like that risk, that openness. This is something quite different from traditional bluegrass. I still believe in the strong start, good climax, and a definite ending; but this has opened my mind to what else it can be, letting it be more open.
How is life on the road?
NP: Salmon is a really heavy touring band. We go out and play 18 shows in 20 days. If someone asked my what I wanted 3 years ago, I would have said, “Just tour and play music.” But it is hard to understand what it is like without doing it. It is really kind of strange showing up in a new town every day, sleeping in a bunk on the bus. I’ll try to maintain some consistency and a routine, and try to practice. We are quite crowded on the bus, and most folks hear enough banjo as it is. So if I practice on the bus, I try to play my electric banjo and use headphones. Usually I try to find a corner backstage or in my hotel room where I can practice. It is a fun lifestyle, and everyone in the band is friendly and gets along. It would be unbearable to go out for 3 weeks in such close quarters and not get along.
What I really like is it has afforded me the opportunity to play a lot. Playing a show every night has helped with stage fright and getting used to being on stage. I went from playing about 3 shows a month before Salmon, to playing 140 shows since I joined the band. It’s a big change. I try to stay creative. It is tough to stay fresh and excited about each tune when we play it every other night. But we have enough of a repertoire to keep things varied. It is an odd lifestyle, but I am really grateful for the luxury in which we tour. We have a bus and a driver and sometimes get hotel rooms. I am very aware that I jumped into a band that built itself off the ground for 13 years, and I know I’m lucky. I am really grateful to be able to play music and tour for a living.
Tell me about the new Leftover Salmon album. (Self-titled Leftover Salmon was released March ’04)
NP: We recorded it April 2003, so it has been in the can forever. It is coming out on Compendia Records. It’s the first studio album the band has done since “The Nashville Sessions,” and it is the first album with me playing banjo and with the current rhythm section.
What kind of stuff is on it?
NP: In some ways it is more acoustic and rootsy than we have recorded for a while. The tunes have drums and Hammond organ, but some still sound like bluegrass tunes. It is more mature and less frenzied than some of the other records. There is some really meaningful and lyrical material. There is a tune by Greg Garrison called “Fayetteville Line.” It’s Greg’s personal tribute and memorial to Mark Vann about a late night banjo lesson by some railroad tracks in Arkansas. That kind of sensitive and emotional tune is new; I don’t think the band has gotten to a place like that before. It is essentially a new band, and we have thought a lot about who we are and what are we playing. I think what we do best came out on the record. It has the bluegrass vocal tune in “B,” the 10-minute open jam, and a new-acoustic banjo instrumental. I think it represents where we are right now—the acoustic rootsy thing. We recorded it trying to capture what we are as a band, and we tried to not over-produce it. No one is likely to think, “Wow, this is really different.”
Do you listen back to shows?
NP: I do. Yet sometimes I feel listening over headphones gets away from the intent of the music. It is really about the live show; and if you listen back on your stereo, it changes it. But I do feel listening back to tapes is very important to get ideas about what worked, where my timing is off, and what I need to practice. Joining Salmon has definitely changed the way I think about music, but it hasn’t changed the reason I like music. I love playing acoustic music for the acousticness of it, for the subtlety. You lose some of that with the whole Salmon experience. Having drums on stage, all the amps, and foam inside my banjo head really changes the sound and feel. When Salmon goes on stage, they want to put on a big rock-n-roll show, so the keyboard is loud on stage, the mandolin, and the drums and even the in-ear monitors are loud. From what I gather from fans, our noise is nothing compared to bands like moe or Robert Randolph, but I guess I will never get used to just hearing a banjo pick-up. It’s a compromise.
Have you thought about getting a MIDI type banjo and playing an acoustic sound electronically?
NP: I thought about it at first, but as I tried them, it didn’t work out as well as I thought it might. I wasn’t confident in the way those things track. Also, there are so many sounds coming out of Salmon: acoustic mandolin, electric mandolin, fiddle, slide mandolin, Hammond organ, washboard, Rhodes piano, acoustic guitar, archtop guitar. If I got up and started playing a banjo solo that sounded like a saxophone, the guys would look at me like, “What the hell are you doing?” There is already enough going on. For me I wanted two things: something that sounded and felt acoustic when I was playing it, and something that sounded like a telecaster (my favorite electric guitar). And I didn’t want to change my right hand technique. So I have a banjo really similar to Mark’s solid body Nechville, mine with Joe Barden Telecaster pickups in it. I probably don’t play it as much as Mark did—he played his solid-body on about half the material. But since I have joined the band, we have been playing more bluegrassy stuff. I play acoustic on many tunes that he played his solid-body electric.
What are you playing for an acoustic banjo?
NP: My main banjo is a 2002 Nechville Nextar that I got directly from Tom Nechville. I have a bunch of banjos and keep coming back to this one. Something about the setup on it. It has a tall bridge (just over 3/4”), and where the neck the meets the pot assembly, it raises the strings off the head. This makes a huge difference when playing single-string and soloing. I pick up and try banjos all the time, amazing pre-war Gibsons that have fantastic tone. But once I get past the point of just trying them, and then I try to play a gig on them or play at a jam, I am not able to execute what I hear in my head. I think that has to do with the setup of the Nechvilles, the tall bridge, and the space off the fingerboard. It gives you a bit more sustain on some notes and a real round warm tone. Single string soloing on banjo and getting into that type of improvising requires a lot of shifting. The combination of the wider radiused fingerboard and wide and flat electric guitar-style frets make it a lot easier to slide over the frets.
I think Tom has a great thing going. We travel so much, and his banjos are easy to maintain and adjust. Banjo is such a weird instrument in so many ways. There is such tradition instilled in it. Everyone who picks it up is aware of Earl and J.D.’s legacy, and you need to somehow balance that with expressing themselves. That happens musically with tunes you are writing, your attack, and also the sound of your instrument. I know some folks that could never play my banjo in their traditional bluegrass band. I know folks that say, “When it comes to banjo, there are two words: ‘Gib. Son.’” When I need that extra treble or snap to cut over the band, I’ll play my Gibson. In general, I think people should be more concerned with how their banjo sounds and whether it is comfortable to play rather than how it looks on stage or what their heroes played.
Tell me about your progress as a player, steady incline or leaps and plateaus?
NP: When I started playing bluegrass and working out of the Scruggs book it seemed to come naturally. At various times I would try to approach single string and other techniques and get into different modes of learning. So styles would plateau when I started working on other styles and techniques. I think my most significant progress came when I started to go to college. I had put down the banjo later in high school and started working on acoustic and electric guitar. After a couple of years on guitar, I picked the banjo back up and realized I had made some significant strides on single string. Part of that had to do with age and maturity of playing. Certain aspects of music you can’t get a grip on till you reach a certain point of listening to yourself. Eventually I could hear what I needed to practice. Early on I would listen to Béla or Tony Trischka breaks and think, “Where are they getting these notes?” But eventually I started garnering techniques to hear where these were coming from. I think the most important aspect of practicing is practicing the right things and spending your time wisely. I don’t do that all the time but I am more and more recognizing the areas I need to go, where the holes are.
Can you talk about what your practice sessions are like? What you practice and how you approach it?
NP: I get into different practice modes or phases. There are sometimes I will practice specific things, like 2-octave single-string scales. Another aspect of practicing with the metronome off is experimenting with certain rolls or sounds. This might be a certain part of a tune or just ideas, or trying to write something. Also taking a specific form with specific chords and examining options. I think a very important part of improvising is noodling and finding sounds that you like when things are slowed down and the metronome is off and then trying to incorporate those things in time with the tune at full tempo. And then I transcribe a lot of stuff, like learning fiddle tunes note for note.
Are you transcribing banjo stuff?
NP: Sometimes. I used to transcribe mostly banjo stuff. But lately I have transcribed some Matt Flinner and Chris Thile material. That’s been challenging. Some of the stuff mandolin players play is really tough to play note for note. Chris Thile’s “Song for a Young Queen“ is a really interesting tune on banjo. Playing tunes not in G or C and playing them open. That song goes through all sorts of key changes and really opened my mind to as to how to play arpeggios. I’ve transcribed all sorts of stuff from Matt Flinner fiddle tunes to Scott Nygaard tunes to some jazz solos. I think that is important part of practicing. I recommend that to anyone who feels they are in a rut. Transcribe someone’s solo that you think is really cool. Then you will have a handle on some of the concepts or approaches they have and eventually make it yours. I think anything in moderation is important. If I get into scales a lot, I might work on a bluegrass tune just to mix it up.
You seem to have a wealth of creative and fresh ideas. Where do you come up with this stuff? Is it from practicing scales, transcribing, or all of the above?
NP: Listening to people inspires me. At the core, I think you have to have right and left hand freedom and know the fingerboard. When I listen to other people play, mandolinists and guitarists, I try to really absorb and incorporate what they are playing into what I am doing. I may not play the exact same lick, but maybe how they phrase things or rhythmically, or certain chords and harmonic ideas. I started doing that with Béla stuff. I would listen and try to understand his approach to stuff. Not necessarily tab out a break and play it, but see how he approaches a song and approaches soloing. He has certainly opened up the capacity and possibilities of the banjo and how certain things can be played. For a while I got into that mode of his music, seeing how he approaches kick-offs, soloing and fills.
So now I have been trying to do this with other musicians. I listen to as much stuff as I can, and listen on the level of where I’m trying hear what they are doing idea-wise. Then with all those ideas and hearing how things are put together, you can develop enough resources to then put it together into a style or sound. This can start from transcribing note for note or just listening for when soloists are climbing or descending or resting. I definitely have certain “cells” that I go to more often, not licks per se, because they are different each time, but melodic or harmonic areas I go to because I am more comfortable there. There are all sorts of techniques on the banjo now, and it’s a challenge to break down the barriers between techniques, especially trying to incorporate them within a solo. Eventually it moves away from what mode you are playing in and towards the notes and music you are playing. That’s my goal. In some ways I feel I am getting closer to it, but it is a lifelong thing for anybody.
Do you use a computer in your practice time?
NP: I use a computer to record things, to make demos of original tunes, or just to hear myself play. Many things I thought I was playing great, and then I recorded them, listened back, and found problem areas. Now I try to focus on them when I am playing. It is being honest with yourself. It creates a good opportunity to be on the other side and disconnect yourself from your own playing and not be as personal as when you playing it real time. Metronomes and computers are great practice tools, but you have to get out and play with other musicians. Great metronomic time is a wonderful thing, but nobody is robotic. There always has to be room to move with each other. In my opinion the greatest bluegrass bands are not the ones with great robotic time, but the ones that moved with each other. If someone moves a little bit, everyone is right there with them, and it changes the energy. It will always fluctuate some. Though I think metronome practice is important, you can’t rely on it all the time.
How do you compose?
NP: I think most of the tunes I have come up with come out of working on scales or chords or cool tones. I have some tunes that are so focused on the fact that it is being played on the banjo, that if you asked a fiddle player to play it would sound insane because of all the open strings. I know some of the tunes I have written have come out of working on arpeggios, such as in B, then finding open string combinations that sound cool. Other times I have sat down with a guitar and found a chord progression and then tried to hum a melody over them.
You will never write tunes if your practicing routine is only working on stuff that exists or technical material, and then stop there. If you are working on scales or chords, and you hear something cool, you have to be able to stop and capture that, and being patient enough to expand that into a tune. Or have a toolbox available to modify and expand that. I think that’s the key to writing things. Sometimes I find a really cool sound and I don’t know what to do with it, so I will transpose it to all keys to find where it might fit. So I might find something in open G that sounds good but I don’t know where to go with it. All of a sudden in B-flat it becomes obvious where it can go. Some tunes come out and you know immediately how it is going to end. Right now I am working on coming up with new ideas on my original tunes, like a counterpoint line or different chords. I wrote a tune in B, which is nothing revolutionary, but I am playing it in open B and you get all sorts of beautiful sounds with open strings and that can make a tune. What I find inspirational about Matt Flinner’s tunes is they are within the tradition yet offer something new. That is how I tried to write the tunes for my new album. All of them are within some framework of bluegrass; you can hear that it is bluegrass banjo, with something different or new in each tune.
Something I have been finding in my playing is that some of the stuff I practice and play at home I can't pull off on stage or at a jam. I tend to play at a higher level when by myself. Is this something you find? Is this something you have realized and able to work through on the spot thinking “I can play 90% of my practice level?”
NP: I play better in a relaxed environment and when there is no pressure. When I am nervous or intimidated I know things start to suffer, such as technique or timing. What I am learning is that I may never reach a point where I am not nervous, but I can get better at playing with those factors at work. I still know on certain tunes there are parts I can’t execute as well, and I’ll see tunes on the setlist that I don’t want to play because I am not feeling right to play it. I think it is realizing the whole side of nervousness and adrenalin, being able to recognize it, and knowing your limitations in those settings. On stage sometimes, maybe the sound, or I’m nervous, or I can’t hear myself well, I might censor myself and may play it safe—play stuff I know I can execute. I think it is a real common thing that you need to work through. I think warming up beforehand and breathing are key. It can be so intimidating. I can remember being nervous about things I am not nervous about now, and some things I am still nervous about. But I realize I now know the feeling of playing nervous, and now I am getting better at playing nervous. I listen back and it is not as bad as I thought. And now the more I listen back, I feel more confident when playing nervous.
I would imagine playing a duet set with Béla Fleck for 10,000 folks in Telluride would expand your nervousness envelope. Has that helped make other situations less nerve wracking?
NP: That was a real surreal experience to do that just because it was Telluride, and it was Sunday night between Allison Krauss and the Sam Bush Band. There is so much history there and I was really honored to do it. It was only about 15 minutes of playing banjo tunes, but I was really nervous. Here was one of my heroes willing to do that in that environment. It was probably the most nervous I’ve been. But doing that set definitely broke down some of that nervousness, and I know if I was to do it again I’d be a lot better at keeping my cool. I am realizing that everyone in the bluegrass world is so supportive, and it’s not a competition. Nobody goes to Telluride to see who is best. Everyone goes through those feelings, and it is something maybe you can’t avoid but try to reduce it and try to deal with it.
What can you tell me about this upcoming solo project?
NP: I am really excited to play with these guys. (In the Maze is slated to be released in late summer 2004, and includes Gabe Witcher, Todd Phillips, David Grier, and Matt Flinner) They have been heroes of mine for a long time. For me it gets me back closer to why I am playing the music. It is more about the music and less about the show. When it comes down to it, I get most turned on by hearing acoustic instruments in a small room.
Is it all original material?
NP: Ten tunes on it, eight of them penned by me. One tune is a waltz by Greg Garrison, and another by an amazing local guitarist named Ross Martin. His tune is one in F#, and when I first heard it I had to learn it. So I am playing it in open G-tuning in F#, and it is such a cool sound. He has been a big influence on my writing. Every tune of his that I hear I recognize how he is exploring a cool sound or harmonic area. A bunch of the tunes on there I would never ask a mandolin player to play tunes note for note, just as you would never ask a mandolin player to play Groundspeed note for note. When they are played on banjo, many of them have a great cascading of notes, but when showing them to others I need to extract the essence of the melody.
Any thoughts on the Colorado music scene?
NP: The whole Boulder/Denver thing is pretty amazing. It is known more for the jamgrass thing because of all the bands on the national circuit, but there are also a lot of really good bluegrass players around here. To me the audience fuels the whole thing. I am convinced that, if Leftover Salmon was trying to do what they are doing out of Chicago or Nashville, they would not have the success they have had. It is a really good community. There are more pickers than anywhere else I have played. It’s a combination of the audience, all the bands, and Planet Bluegrass (promoter of Telluride Bluegrass Festival and RockyGrass). They have drawn lots of people out here. People here appreciate things on the musical fringe. People aren’t as drawn to politeness and reservedness on stage, they appreciate musical risks and like to have fun. There is a good combination of middle class people with families and desk jobs that see live music and buy CD’s, and then there is a huge hippie community that really supports the bands. That combination makes an interesting and fantastic community.
What is in your CD player right now?
NP: Lots of Philips, Grier, and Flinner to get in their heads before the studio, Aaron Copeland Appalachian Spring, Bill Frizell & The Intercontinentals, Darrell Scott’s Theatre of the Unheard, and Vasen’s Trio.
And for those that read this far into the article, my bio from BNL back then is pretty funny:
Jake Schepps is currently on a “teaching” tour of summer camps and university outdoor programs, performing the world-famous banjo instrumentals “Subungual Hematoma” and “Femur Fracture,” usually in front of a classroom under the auspices of a wilderness medicine educator.