You started out as a player and a songwriter, right?
I sure did. Getting into recording for me was buying a pair of mics and a stereo preamp so that I could record myself and make sure that I was a better player when I'd get called. It made me sharper. A lot of live players don't take the time to do that, and I was converting from being more of a live player to becoming a session guy.
That's a smart way of approaching it.
Yeah. It's that Midwestern work ethic. I'm from middle America; south-central Iowa.
What happened when you first came to Nashville?
I went to work playing on Lower Broadway; me and an acoustic guitar. When I'd see other singers come into the bar to have a drink, or in between shifts getting ready to play, I'd say, "Hey" and we'd hang out. I'd get them up to play my guitar and sing, and I'd play dobro. People would see me playing other instruments besides acoustic guitar, and I turned into that "utility" guy.
Had you built those skills up on different instruments in Iowa?
Yeah. There weren't that many people up there to play with. If I could play instruments that weren't in a [traditional] band, then I'd get hired more. The more instruments I played, the easier I got the gig. I'd reinvest in nicer instruments, and it snowballed.
So, you had a pretty good collection by the time you hit Nashville?
I did. I hooked up with [luthier] Tim Scheerhorn shortly after I moved to town, and he made my collection of guitars pretty powerful. We've gotten to be such good friends. I still call him sometimes for advice. Half my collection of lap steels I went out to his shop and built myself with him watching over my shoulder. Life lessons that I'll never forget.
We learn by mistakes, that's for sure.
It's the same way with recording. You're not going to come out of the chute and make the most incredible sounding record the first time out. You're going to have to stumble and fall. Especially when it comes to new software. I use Steinberg Cubase here, and their VariAudio system is so wonderful for time alignment and polishing intonation. I don't like to get carried away. I would rather make a singer sing a lot and then make a great comp. It's all budgetary. If there's not a budget for a singer to sing a song for an hour or two, and you have a lot of takes to pick from, then it comes down to having to use software more. I have to weigh my options against the budget every time.
I know there's a wide variety of sessions you do.
Yeah. More so than ever. When I first moved to town, I played on quite a few bluegrass records. Obviously, the resonator guitar is a very notable instrument in the world of bluegrass.
Right. You became mostly known for your dobro work early on.
Right, and high harmony singing. Those were my two big calls. I started getting work on a lot of records. At one point in the '90s, I was on almost all of the prominent records that were done by individual acts; ones that weren't bands that already had a dobro player.
Right, or they hired Jerry Douglas.
Well, Jerry kind of bowed out right in that era. He said, "Hey, there's this new kid who moved to town. Here's his number. You won't regret it." Jerry was so nice to me.
You don't even need a business card if that happens!
Exactly. Of course, Rob Ickes has been here in the scene, and Andy Hall was here for a while. There have been some wonderful players, and we all learned off of each other. I don't feel a competitive bone in my body against any of them, because we are all working.
What were you picking up about recording techniques in studios as a session player?
For some of my favorite records that I got to work on, Chuck Ainlay [Tape Op #97] or Ed Seay were engineering. One of my favorites is Gary Paczosa [#108]. I learned a ton from him. I would wait until after the session and limit myself to asking one thing each time so that I wasn't bombarding him with questions.
You're not "that guy."
That's a good way to not get called back to a session! He was always very forthcoming, and he helped me so much.
You recorded and played with Dolly Parton in the early 2000s.
That was done in East Tennessee actually, in Knoxville. Gary Davis was the producer and the banjo guy in the band. Dolly called the band The Blueniques. Her whole premise was she wanted to make a record that was still bluegrass but very unique to her. It's mountain-y and folky.
There's a series of her records around then that are in that vein.
Yeah. Jerry [Douglas] did the others, and I did the very last one, Halos & Horns.
Halos & Horns jumped out at me back then. I liked the playing on it.
It followed a pretty extensive year of touring. We had a blast and went all over Europe. There are some definite experiences from that tour that are very memorable.
Someone who hasn't delved into the bluegrass world would think it's all about live performance and blending everybody in the room, like the classic singing around the one mic. But I know from my experience that recording this style can be technical, as well as more about perfecting those performances in isolation.
It very much used to be about standing around one microphone. With the advent of technology, isolation rooms, and being able to overdub, bluegrass went the way of blues and jazz and other forms of music. I'll use Steely Dan as a perfect example. Those guys worked for a year carving, and making records, and replaying, and making it right. The Bluegrass Album Band [led by Tony Rice and J.D. Crowe] came before, but Alison Krauss had a huge influence. Alison's attention to detail and perfection, as well as Gary Paczosa's engineering, upped the whole ante on how records were done. She changed the face of bluegrass, in that regard. Some people – the die-hard traditional fans – question that a little bit. They want that raw and real thing. They want to hear Lester Flatt sing flat.
But other people carry those traditions on.
Right. Whenever I'm producing, it's whatever an act gives me the vibe of what they want to do. If they want one of those slick records, I'm all for it. I'll give you what you want. As a producer and studio owner, you've got to be a pleaser. It's their vision, not necessarily yours. It's your job to make it the best you can be.
Do you have pre-production meetings for a bigger project?
I like to sit down with people, and I tell them to bring 20 songs because we're going to strip it to 12.
What will you do during pre-production?
I like to set them up in the front room of the studio here, let them play, and feel them out. Sometimes I'll throw up a microphone in the control room and record them without them knowing it, and then play it back. That's the bulk of the pre-production. "How organic do you want this record to be?"
Or, "How much control do you want to have later?"
If they're wanting a pretty advanced-sounding, modern record, maybe we should be in booths.
Or, if you're doing a bluegrass-style session with a drum kit, then you've got to start thinking about how to isolate that.
Right. On the bluegrass records I do, there's never a drum kit. If they do anything, they'll put on a quiet brush snare drum after the fact. That mandolin chop's got the backbeat. When we're tracking, if they're wanting that tight, Alison Krauss-style, I'll use [Steinberg] Groove Agent or [Toontrack] EZdrummer.
Pipe a beat into the headphones?
Yes. Instead of it being one of those harsh "boop boop bleep" annoying metronomes, it's more fun to play with a drum kit that's playing a groovy train beat.
How did your studio come about?
I was touring with my own band, and I wanted it to be my recording oasis. I kept getting calls. "Can we come in and record? We love what your record sounds like." I was like, "You know what? That's going to pay the mortgage this month. Yeah!"
Your studio is in the basement of an old house.
Yeah. This whole place was built in '35. It was a makeshift studio to start with, and I've kept modding it until it worked.
But now you haven't done a solo record in about ten years.
Yeah, it's been a while. I've got tracks in the can. I've got an old-school country record, and I have a more modern Americana one, but I haven't mixed them yet. It's hard to find time. I got unmotivated. I had a few years of trying to figure out what I wanted to do.
Musically?
Yeah. I had to face the fact that I got too old for a lot of major country deals and major record label deals. I had to face that inner rage. Then I started doing bluegrass; they'll accept you up until the day you die. Blues and other formats idolize their elders instead of putting them out to pasture like country music does.
You've done some great records with Jim Lauderdale.
