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We started out to be a bluegrass band. We wanted to play fast bluegrass with high singing. The day that we stopped that and became Yonder Mountain, just became ourselves, it was a real freeing thing. -Jeff Austin |
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The inevitable "Well is you a bluegrass band or ain't cha?" question is well worn territory for YMSB, to the point of being irrelevant. That being said, what always strikes me about this band is their ability to stay true to their bluegrass roots in a way that is more authentic in spirit than many bands that rigidly stick to traditional instrumentation and song structures, and is certainly more comprehensive than bands that simply dip their toes in the moonshine tub with the odd "Hold What You Got" cover. There was a conscious artistic process born from those moments where the group began to see a sound evolving beyond the tried and true blueprint.
Dave Johnston
"We started out to be a bluegrass band. We wanted to play fast bluegrass with high singing. The day that we stopped that and became Yonder Mountain, just became ourselves, it was a real freeing thing," says Austin. "You give yourself a lot of power, instead of 'Oh, you sound like this guy or you sound like that guy.' That slipped away. Well, we stopped and were like, 'When we play we sound like us.' That's a rare identity that not a lot of bands give themselves."
Kaufmann is candid regarding the hesitation he felt when he realized the strange waters the current was taking them down: "There was a period of time where I felt an anxiety about that transition, like the conscious decision to say, 'We are not a traditional bluegrass band, and I'm less and less feeling like we are even a bluegrass band [at all], and is that okay?' Especially because the bluegrass world is very accessible. I could walk up to Sam Bush or Bela Fleck, these monsters of the genre, or even Earl Scruggs, Ralph Stanley, Del McCoury. These guys are accessible. They are genuine, humble down-home people, and I had a feeling like, 'Whoa, what are they going to think about what we are doing?' I remember just having this moment and going, 'You know what? It doesn't matter. As much as I love these other guys and what they do, and as big an influence as they have been on me, it doesn't matter if they don't like what we do.' And I remember just letting all of that go. That is the freedom."
"When we came to that realization, that this looks like it's something that's not ever happened before, then in my head I got to a beautiful spot because that means we can make it whatever we want it to be," says Austin. "When we hit that spot we were like, 'Oh my god. We can play a three-minute melodic song or we can go on a 20 minute experimental idea or chord expression.' That was an AHA! moment. Now we have license to open it up."
As much as their music deliberately strays from the traditional path, and Austin has said, "One of the best comments we get is, 'I hate bluegrass but I love you guys,'" they owe a debt of gratitude to those that walked that rocky road before them. And anyone that's been to a Yonder show certainly knows that a sincere effort is made by the band to give credit where credit is due, introducing each cover or traditional by name-dropping the songwriter, as in "Our buddy Benny Galloway wrote this tune," or "This is a John Hartford number." The puritans may conveniently ignore this, but attending one of their shows is a crash course in bluegrass history.
Jeff Austin :: night of interview at Stubb's by D. Jackson
"We make a conscious effort on a nightly basis to spread the word of these people we have learned from," Austin says. "If you are ungrateful, you're short changing a lot of people. We're not trying to destroy the music or demolish it. We're trying to pass on the influences that gave us the ideas that have led to what we do."
There's a hope that audience members will research back into these artists, trace the branches to the roots. Personally, I know I can blame my tendency to head straight for the bluegrass vinyl section at whatever record store I may be in, and explain to the bored record store clerk why it shouldn't be filed under country, god damn it, squarely on this band.
When the conversation turns to bluegrass music today, Kaufmann's take on the scene is wrought with visible agony. "There's so much worth knowing about in bluegrass. There's so much adventurous music people have made. It's such revolutionary music. It was the most popular music in the country until Elvis came along. It truly was, and you'll just have to take my word for it. I'm a genuine fan of bluegrass music and I want to see this music live for a long time, but what's happening today is a slippery slope."
"It's a crying shame," Austin adds, shaking his head.
Kaufmann continues, "They aren't doing it right. They've slicked it up and put it in perfect tuning and have structured it and boxed it. It's got no soul, it's got no balls and bluegrass was all about balls."
"And not the slick, Nashville balls they're trying to show you," Austin interjects.
Ben Kaufmann
Kaufmann goes on, making a throttling motion with his hands, "Because it's strangling something that should be alive - just giving it enough breath to finish your lick and then choking it again. Fortunately, I don't spend a lot of time listening to what the satellite radio say is bluegrass," suddenly dropping the subject because he's "been known to rant about it."
Austin picks it up: "Then we have to play festivals with these bands and friends of ours will be like, 'Did you see that band? They were so great.' And we'll be like, ''NOOOOO!'" He groans, clutching his Cubs hat to his head. "Get in the car, smoke the joint and listen to the Country Gentlemen. Shut up and listen to that! Did you hear that thud at the beginning of the record?" He slams his hand down on the plastic tub we've rigged to prop up my tape recorder. "That's their balls being put on the table! Did you hear the whispery butterfly noise that was brought to the table by that band? They are sucking the life out of this thing. When I first met Dave, we would sit together in this house that was falling apart, blasting The Kentucky Colonels and it was like we were at the show. We would be like, 'Oh my god, go back! 'Play that lick again!' Not just, 'Oh wow. Great crescendo.' Don't talk about your crescendo, show me something real. Show me a little bit of yourself."
Although Yonder don't need to justify anything to the smooth operators in Nashville, a new challenge was presented to them while promoting their 2006 self-titled album produced by Tom Rothrock (Elliott Smith, Beck), with whom they will retreat back into the studio later this year. As Kaufmann explains, "We spent the last two years promoting this studio album, which in my opinion was the best studio record we've made. Now it's not bluegrass fans you have to convince, it's radio program directors, and these people have already made up their mind. It could be anything string band and they're like, 'No, we don't program that kind of music.'"
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