Infrequently Asked Questions, by RS Field
| Venue: | Squirrel Nest Studios | | Situation: | First entry in an intended series of questions and answers | | Comment: | Esteemed writer, producer, and Roots Rock icon, RS Field, probes the mind of maestro Jerry Douglas |
RSF: You were born in northeast Ohio, near Cleveland, in 1956. In other interviews you have said that you started playing both mandolin and guitar at about five or six years old and then Dobro around ten or eleven. What about the Dobro appealed to you? Why did you stick with it? JD: First of all, my father was a Country and Bluegrass music enthusiast. He took me to my first live music concerts; Grand Ole Opry package shows with Ernest Tubb, Roy Acuff, Ray Price and his Cherokee Cowboys came through our area of Northeastern Ohio occasionally. However, it was the Bluegrass shows - Don Reno and Red Smiley, Jim and Jesse and the Virginia Boys (with Allen Shelton and Jimmy Buchanan), and likely, most importantly, Lester Flatt and Earl Scruggs, which had the most impact on me. Seeing Josh Graves play the Dobro started me down the road of thinking about music as a vocation. I thought about it all day while in school. I would come home and play my Dobro, not because I had to, but because I really wanted to. When I was younger and in my mandolin and guitar stages, I did not feel the same about learning the instruments. The Dobro made me want to learn more about music and it became my voice. I sang, in my little kid voice, with the other two instruments. With Dobro, I found it was harder to play and sing simultaneously. I believe it takes the same mental process to sing as it does to play a sliding pitch instrument or a violin. It requires employing the pitch control center of the brain to sing and to be in tune while, at the same time, playing an instrument that places the same demands on the brain. The Dobro is a very complex instrument, (not that I knew that at the time). I simply had an innate attraction to the instrument. RSF: At your recent Artist in Residence concerts at the Country Music Hall of Fame, a lot was said in the press crediting you with rescuing the Dobro from being a sort of unwanted child in the acoustic instrument family, by taking it to an unimagined level of acceptance and popularity. How do you feel about all of this, specifically, were you aware of the Dobro being kept in the background? Why was such a beautiful and unique sounding instrument in the background in the first place, and did you have a have a personal mission to change how it was perceived? There were players before me who put the sound of the Dobro on radio and TV shows. Particularly, Josh Graves (as a member of Flatt and Scruggs' band The Foggy Mountain Boys) was a participant in the great opportunities afforded by the morning radio shows and TV shows transmitted from Nashville and from Huntington, West Virginia. Bashful Brother Oswald (Pete Kirby) worked both on the road and on the Grand Ole Opry, famously, with Roy Acuff. In each of these cases, the Dobro players were relegated to being the comedians of the act. They predictably wore the funny hats and sometimes blacked out teeth to form the comedy portion of the show that rounded out the patented Country Music act of the era. Among the other players who came after Josh and Os, Mike Auldridge, especially, provided an important step in elevating the public's perception of the Dobro. However, I think my initial appearances on Country records (with Emmylou Harris, Dolly Parton, Ricky Skaggs, the Whites, Nitty Gritty Dirt Band, and Gary Morris) and then on Pop records (with Ray Charles and Dan Fogelberg), brought the attention which, in turn, gave my instrument more of a mainstream voice. My solos achieved higher profile positions, competing with those of pianos, electric guitars and horns. Up until that time, if Dobro was present at all, it showed up as an overdub by the steel player who happend to be on the session, being poorly recorded, and used only as a sound/color in the track. I tried to change all those things. RSF: When you were starting as a musician, did you have an epiphany, or aha moment, where you knew that you were on to something? JD: My first professional job was with the Country Gentlemen, a Bluegrass band from Washington D.C. that I had idolized all my life. I was sixteen years old and a junior in high school with plans of going to college. I was responsible for only myself and, in my estimation, this role as a musician allowed me to be a member of a big, never-ending party. This view ended as my responsibilities increased. I was married at nineteen, then had a big jolt of reality sink in when my son, Grant, was born a few years later. Suddenly, it occurred to me that my line of work was actually a viable business endeavor and I was a commodity in the trade. This awareness took a while to sink in, due to the fact I was playing music, which was fun, yet I had to take my entire paycheck home to provide for other people -not just for myself. I also realized I could neither continue to travel at this pace, nor play exclusively the music I might want to play. Moving to Nashville in 1979 to work with the Whites, I immediately began receiving calls for recording sessions. That is what was going on in this town; music was the business that drove the city. I found that I had a industry; I did something with an instrument that no one else could, and soon I was in high demand. RSF: You grew up in a household that loved (and played) Bluegrass. What else did you listen to as a kid? JD: I would wake up to Bluegrass music every morning and at night, I would go to sleep listening to the giant rock radio stations of Cleveland, Ohio. This was in the Sixties, and Rock and Roll was inventing itself. An older cousin moved in with my family and, with him, brought a record collection including Creedence Clearwater Revival, the Left Bank, the Lovin’ Spoonful, and the Doors. I heard, not exactly in any chronological order, soft rock bands such as Bread, the Mamas and Papas, the Byrds, which I really related to, as well as the British Invasion bands – first, the Beatles, then the Rolling Stones, and Cream. I was very confused about how this would all relate to what I was playing. RSF: If there were to be a Mount Rushmore of Bluegrass, who would your heroes be? JD: My Mount Rushmore of Bluegrass would have to be comprised of some heroes who traveled alone along with some who traveled in pairs. Flatt and Scruggs, Reno and Smiley, Jim and Jesse, The Country Gentlemen, then Bill Monroe and the Stanley Brothers. RSF: Over the course of your career you have gone on to perform, compose and record in a wide variety of musical styles ( Bluegrass, Jazz, new acoustic music, World music, Blues, Rock, Pop and mainstream Country. Outside of your early influences, who else has inspired you? JD: Guitar players like Clapton, Stevie Ray Vaughn, Duane Allman, Jimi Hendrix, Jeff Beck, and Albert Lee. Chick Corea, as leader of the original Return to Forever, Django Reinhardt and Stephane Grappelli, and U2. Many of my generation look to Eastern music, and I am no exception. Ravi Shankar introduced the Beatles to Indian Music, and that introduced me to Ali Akbar Khan and to Shankar, the violinist often heard with Peter Gabriel, but who has some of the most wonderful solo records that boggle the mind. These people have also inspired other musicians I listen to often - Sting, Derek Trucks, and the swampiness of Sonny Landreth. My friends Bela Fleck, Sam Bush, Edgar Meyer, and Stuart Duncan give me new goals every time I hear them. RSF: What experiences have you had collaborating with others that stand out for you? JD: Wonderful collaborations have resulted from friendships made during recording projects I was doing for other people. I first met Bill Frisell during his record, “Nashville”, but it was not until we had recorded together on Viktor Krauss’s first solo album that I approached Bill to play on a recording of mine. The same happened with Pat Metheny on Charlie Haden’s "Family & Friends" CD. I jumped out on a limb by asking John Fogerty to do a song on my record, “The Best Kept Secret”, and was surprised when he agreed. Derek Trucks was a dream to work with. He flew in from his home Jacksonville, Florida on a Sunday morning, overdubbed all afternoon, had some of Jill’s chicken and dumplings, watched some football at the house, and then I took him back to the airport, and off he went. I recorded a track with James Taylor in Boston while on the “Down from the Mountain” Tour. I found a studio where James had been doing some vocals, and in which he felt comfortable, then just went in and started recording with Stuart Duncan, Ron Block, and Barry Bales; we just cut it. “The Suit” emerged after about three hours’ work on a day off from the tour. RSF: What was it like when you started out doing sessions in Nashville? Was it a struggle, or had someone, an artist or producer, already set a place for you at the table? JD: Well, there was certainly no place set at the table. I was a new fish in the stream, and all the engineers were very set in their ways of recording any acoustic instrument. Their idea was to put the most tight pattern microphone at the most trebly spot, and hope the electric guitars and pianos and drums did not get into it, or vice versa. I remember asking one engineer in particular if I could move the microphone to a friendlier sounding spot and he said, ”When you are sitting on this side of the glass, you can move the mic anywhere you want it”. I slid my chair over. I guess that made us even. Eventually, as time progressed, I was able to create a warmer sound for the radio by double mic’ing my guitar. Having a couple of good sounding solos on the radio went a long way in getting their attention. RSF: Do you approach sessions for others, or collaborations, differently than you do your own performances or recording projects? JD: Yes, I do approach working for others differently. When I am working for them, I am a conduit for their thoughts and expressions. Recording is a very artistic endeavor and I think the impressions should come from the person whose name is in big letters on the cover. It is, after all, their career, and they are rolling the dice. RSF: By choice, you aren't as available for sessions as you used to be. Why is that? These days, I choose my recording dates more by the regard I have for artists rather than simply being available for hire, going in and doing sessions for pay from daylight to dark. Thus far, my biggest recording heyday was from approximately the years 1980 to 1998. During that time, I played on sixteen hundred, or so, records. It was when I was on the road with the Whites when I felt the pull of the studio asking for more time than I was able to give. It was a very difficult decision to reach, but I left the Whites, who had been very much like family to me for seven years, and stopped being on the road for my living. I was playing anywhere from five to fifteen sessions a week. Eventually around 1995 or so, I began dreading going to the studio. Not only due to the music I was being asked to play, but also wondering if I had not just played the same phrase two days before on the same song for a different artist. I took on many production jobs (for Del McCoury, Nashville Bluegrass Band, Alison Krauss, Peter Rowan, Jesse Winchester, and others) and felt I was back to making substantive records and maintaining my integrity. On a day when I was mixing a record for The Lonesome River Band, Alison Krauss called saying there had been a personnel change in b and asking if I might be interested in playing with the band for the summer. I found myself, once again, making a decision between being on the road or in the studio, or to give this band all my energy and exit the session scene. It was at that point that I felt ready to leave the sessions. RSF: Alison Krauss and Union Station featuring Jerry Douglas is one of the most successful and respected groups in American music. You have quite a history with Alison and were one of her first producers on recordings. Could you tell us about the arc of that relationship? I met Alison when she was fourteen years old when Ken Irwin (from Rounder Records) brought her to Nashville, in search of a producer. She came over to Bela Fleck’s house in Sylvan Park, where Sam Bush and I heard her sing. We all knew at that point something was going to happen, but were all so deep into our own careers we couldn’t step in to give the time to totally become the producer for her. I played on quite a bit of her first record and then produced the second, which was “I’ve Got That Old Feeling”. I have played on all but two of her recordings, though until joining the band in 1998, I think we failed to have a conversation based on anything but the work we were doing at that moment. She has become everything I knew she could, and more. Our relationship is one of mutual respect, and I enjoy being a part of AKUS and all it has accomplished. RSF: In this interviewer's opinion you are the Audie Murphy of acoustic music (Murphy was the most decorated American soldier of WWII). You have received an incredible amount of recognition and awards from the music industry, your peers and from fans. Did you consciously set out to achieve such proliferation for yourself and for your instrument, or do you just go where inspiration takes you? JD: While it may not be a good practice, early in my career I went wherever the wind blew me; thankfully, the wind was kind. I always felt I was going up the ladder in respect to the people I was playing with, and the music reflected that. From the Country Gentlemen to JD Crowe and The New South, to Nashville and working with the Whites, where I became entrenched in the recording community, to working with AKUS and my own band [Jerry Douglas Band], I have tried to leave a trail of integrity and quality. I am not one driven by the thought of collecting awards. The fact that I have to explain, less and less, what the instrument is makes me happy. RSF: What do you look for in collaborators (guest vocalists, musicians, engineers) on a Jerry Douglas record? JD: Collaboration is what recording is all about. I have to feel like we are all on the same page before we go into the studio. I have enjoyed many such pairings with Tony Rice and Ricky Skaggs, everyone in AKUS, The Whites, Edgar Meyer and Russ Barenberg, Sam Bush and Bela Fleck.
Bil VornDick has been my main engineer and sounding board for years and he has done the bulk of my solo recording. Bil knows how I want to sound and creates that automatically. If I want more edge or whatever to the sound, he knows how all these machines and effects work and can go into them and dig out exactly what we are after. If I go away (using another engineer) for a record, I can return without any petty disagreement. That is collaboration.
In the last three recordings, I have used the guys I travel with in the Jerry Douglas Band to lay the beds of the tracks and, when needed, I have called in a ringer or two to spice things up and take us in whatever direction we needed support. Producing is much like being the director of a movie, with casting being very important. I enjoy interrupting an instrumental record with vocals -using them as palate cleansers to shift the listeners’ ears in another direction. Casting just the right person for this interruption is important. Maura O’Connell is a favorite, as well as James Taylor, Alison, Travis Tritt, and John Fogerty. They are each unique voices that can take the listener to a completely different place. This adds greatly to the fun of recording. RSF: You have your own personal recording studio now. How has the digital revolution effected how you go about writing and recording your projects? JD: I have recorded in every kind of format except cylinder and 78rpm. My first recording was in 1973, when I was sixteen, with the Country Gentlemen at Vanguard Record’s studio, in the Chelsea district of NYC. Eight tracks on one-inch tape was the industry standard then. Before long, moving to sixteen tracks became the norm. Many will tell you that God intended music to sound as it does on tape. The tracks continued to grow to twenty-four before the digital age took over. The analog domain is still my favorite format and every CD I make hits tape at least once before it goes to mastering. There is just something about natural magnetic tape compression that completes the aural experience for me. Right now, the scientists of the digital revolution are getting very close to capturing the air between the notes, but the best of them will tell you we aren’t quite there yet.
Alas, with it being so very easy to record in the solitude of your own digital audio workspace, I have submitted. I have a ProTools studio where I can overdub on freelance projects, and write and sketch out my own records. Then I work on overdubbing and editing (with the proper outboard and plug-in equipment) before going back to the big space to finish the process in a dignified professional setting. RSF: What's next? JD: I would like to get back into producing, a bit. I have been away long enough to recharge my batteries in that capacity. I also have a full schedule of traveling with the JDB, with Elvis Costello in the spring, AKUS in the late summer and fall, and now, with the ”Jerry Christmas” record finally out, I have yet another new recording project on the drawing board. Never a dull moment! We are protected by the state laws on ecology. It is possible to call infringers to account if the factory pipe smokes or there was pollution in the river. But unfortunately, there are no laws protecting us from garbage in music and arts.
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