Any introduction to the career of multi-instrumentalist John McEuen runs the risk of being longer than the interview itself. Just hitting the high spots puts quite a dent in the word count: founding member of the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band in 1966, as well as a multi-genre solo artist; veteran producer of albums, videos, shows, and film scores; receiver of numerous nominations and awards (including Grammy, CMA and ACM awards, along with an Emmy nomination); author, teacher, and radio host. And tucked in amongst all that are several million miles connecting over 8000 performances. A veteran of just about any sort of stage setting you can imagine – from solo at the Grand Ole Opry to sharing a stage with Phish – McEuen has truly earned the title of his XM radio show, “Acoustic Traveller.”
John McEuen has been referred to as an “instrumental poet” and a “string wizard.” Fortunately, he also tells a pretty good story – and has some pretty good stories to tell.
Enough introduction – let’s let the man speak for himself.
Part One: Being John McEuen
BR: Reviewing things that have been written about you over the years, it’s interesting to see how journalists have attempted to label your music – everything from the standards of “bluegrass” and “country” to the more modern terms like “roots music” or “Americana”, which is the catch-all phrase these days. How would you describe your music?
JM: I think that the Americana title actually fits the music I play – influenced by where I’ve been in America, the history of the country, and the instruments of the country, you know?
BR: Well, I hear you. It helps that you’ve actually lived it.
JM: I suppose part of it is having played in so many different places over the years. For a long time now, people have asked me, “My God, how do you do it? How do you put in the hours and the miles that you do?” I’m starting to understand why they ask – which means I’m not sure myself. (laughter)
BR: What’s an average number of shows a year for you these days – and what’s the split between Dirt Band gigs and solo appearances?
JM: I average about 110 cities a year, split pretty much 50/50 between band gigs and solo shows.
BR: And in between?
JM: Oh … my wife Marylin and I travel to places for fun. (laughter)
BR: That’s what I’d wonder – where do you go so you’re not overhauled every few minutes by someone who wants you to play the theme from The Beverly Hillbillies?
JM: Oh, that really doesn’t happen that often; the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band really isn’t a household word – it’s more like a garage word, you know? (laughter) We haven’t made it to all the houses yet. Seriously – we have a very good fan base and a lot of people who like us, which is a wonderful thing after 44 years. I’m happy with that; knowing that there are people who know and appreciate what we do out there.
I’ve seen musicians who live in a protective celebrity bubble and they don’t get the fact that they’re nothing more than food for the advertising machines. They might be extremely creative, but they don’t get the fact that they really don’t know how to do much in life. Okay, you can play a guitar and look good doing it – but can you help children? Can you fix a meal for someone? Simple things, you know? Life. I’ve seen people who were rich, but couldn’t figure out how to load the trunk of their car.
Is my way of life “real life”? Well, I know that not everybody wants to go to 100 cities in a year, but at the same time, I’m not protected or sheltered from things. And I like the life of a road musician – I still do. I don’t mind going to bed at 1:00 AM, getting back up at 5, and flying on the first plane out in the morning to get to the second one and renting a car when you land so you can drive for three hours to get to the next place you’re playing in time for soundcheck. And you know what’s good about that?
BR: Tell me.
JM: After soundcheck, you get to eat – and then you can play the show! (laughter)
BR: And then you go back to bed at 1:00 AM …
JM: Exactly. And maybe the next day, you don’t have to get up until 6, so you get 5 hours’ sleep. “Today’s a better day!” (laughter)
But that’s part of a musician’s life – and there are thousands of people who are living it, whether they’re doing it on planes, on board tour buses, or in the back of a van. And the best part of your day is those 4-5 hours around the show.
BR: So I guess I should ask: why do it?
JM: And I guess I would answer: I don’t know. (laughter)
Really? I like going on stage. And I like saying, “Yeah, I can get there. Fishcreek, Wisconsin in the middle of the winter? Yeah, I can get there. I’ll fly into Chicago – it’s only seven hours’ drive from there in a blizzard … I’ve done it!” (laughter) It’s an exciting drive, too.
Part Two: Tools Of The Trade
BR: What’s the current tally of albums you’ve recorded both with the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band and solo?
JM: I’ve recorded six albums of my own and I believe the Dirt Band is up to, like, 33 or 34. I don’t know as it’s fair to count the ones where someone goes in, licenses 12 cuts, and puts them out as a repackage. Not counting those, I think it’s 34 albums – and that’s over a 44-year spread. Plus there are another nine albums that I’ve produced for other people.
BR: There are a lot of folks who may not be aware of how many instruments you play – what’s the list?
JM: It’s funny, because with the Dirt Band, there are people who will often say, “Oh, you’re the fiddle player” or “You’re the guy that plays the mandolin, aren’t you?” A lot of times it depends on what song they’re familiar with and what I play on that particular song. Often it’s the banjo or the fiddle; I also play acoustic guitar, mandolin, and lap steel –
BR: Ooh – what kind of a lap steel?
JM: An old Fender – a 1954 Fender that I paid $15 for. (laughter) It’s got the best pickup in the world and sounds really great … it makes me sound like I know what I’m doing.
I don’t consider myself a keyboard player, but I understand the keyboard enough that I can overdub little piano licks for a song, for instance. No massive, dominating piano parts – although I did play piano on a Dirt Band recording once after a producer made a bet with me that I wouldn’t have a part together in time … I won. (laughter)
Let’s see … I’ve played the hammered dulcimer, accordion – and a Japanese instrument called the koto. Acoustic stringed instruments are definitely my strong point.
BR: Are there advantages and/or disadvantages to being a multi-instrumentalist? In particular, I’m wondering about how you keep your chops up with all the traveling that you do, which is bound to limit practice time on any instrument, let alone several.
JM: I really believe that playing different instruments helps keep me from having carpal tunnel problems because my hands aren’t constantly in the same positions. At the same time, I’m not much good at opening a ketchup bottle – my hands twist a different way. I’ve come to be afraid of people shaking my hand, as many times it’s a situation where they’re like, “I’ve waited a long time to meet you …” and they grab your hand and just crush it. I’ve come close to really having my hand damaged from that kind of thing.
But I think that playing different instruments and laying off any one in particular sometimes helps the chops, actually. I’ve had times when I worked really intensely to get a part on the banjo, we’ll say. Maybe after an hour or so, I figured I had it pretty well down … and then the next day I’ll pick the banjo back up and discover I can play that same part easily. I’m not trying as hard.
There are some moments in music – and in life – that are only going to happen the way they do if they’re spontaneous. If you try to set them up, it just isn’t going to happen.
BR: For example?
JM: Oh, like pitching a dime into a coin return slot on a payphone from about 10’ away …
BR: (laughs) Wait – which you’ve done?
JM: Sure – it was a spur of the moment thing and I just knew I could do it. Now if you came up to me and said, “I heard you can do that,” and I tried, I’d never be able to. (laughs) But if it’s a spontaneous occurrence …
BR: So, applying that to music …
JM: Well, if you’ve listened to the Will The Circle Be Unbroken album … (sound of a banjo being tuned)
The last part of the banjo on “Lonesome Fiddle Blues” goes like this (tears off a banjo run over the phone), but I meant to go like this (plays a slightly different passage). I did it in one take in the studio – no overdubs – and under pressure. Afterwards, I had to figure out what I did to play it the same way again. I was saying, “Wow, that’s cool – how did I do that?” (laughter)
BR: In amongst everything else you have going on these days, you also do a regular “Acoustic Traveller” show on XM Radio’s “The Village”. Where do you find time to put those together?
JM: I’m working on one here today, actually. I sent one in yesterday and want to get next month’s together before I go back out on the road. I’m working right here in my home studio, putting cuts together and talking about them. Each show is between an hour and a half and two hours long and I just put them together as I can and try to stay ahead of things. Last year, I actually did two shows from the tour bus while we were up in Canada, using my portable ProTools system. “Hey everybody, sorry for the big bus sound in the background, but it’s been a busy month.”
BR: And you’ve done …
JM: 12 shows a year – I just turned in my 54th. I enjoy doing it – it’s something new. I like being able to talk to a few hundred thousand people at once and see where it goes. But even if it were only a few dozen people, I think the purpose for me being here is to make things and to continue making them; whether they’re stories, music, live shows, radio shows, or whatever.
Plus, it’s more fun than just sitting around the house. (laughter) And I really do enjoy it. If the day comes that I have to quit going out on the road, people are going to point at me and say, “That guy over there? He’s a retired kid.”
BR: There are worse things. (laughter) One more gearhead question: I know you have an older Gibson banjo that you use a lot …
JM: That’s a Gibson Florentine, made in 1927. I actually lean towards using my Deering banjos; I have a couple of them and they’re quite wonderful. There are many great banjos out there now – years ago, there weren’t. For some reason, the people who build banjos seem to be quite competitive – more so than guitar or piano builders, I believe.
BR: Was the banjo the first thing that captivated you?
JM: No, it was actually the guitar. I started playing the guitar at age 17 for about six months until I saw an amazing bluegrass group called the Dillards. I was totally blown away that night – I went home and took the fifth string off my guitar, put a first string on, and tried to figure out how to get it to sound like a banjo.
BR: (laughing) How’d that work out?
JM: Well, I went back to see them the next night and I happened to meet Rodney Dillard himself. I told him what I’d done to my guitar and he said, “What you want to do is get yourself an HO railroad spike and drive it in at the fifth fret and put the string under that.” So I did.
BR: And?
JM: And then I had to go back the next night to find out how to tune it. (laughter) I got my first banjo six months later when I turned 18. I told my father I wanted to be a musician and he said, “Well … I think you’re going down the wrong road.” Yet, he bought me my first banjo.
BR: Well, there – God bless him.
JM: You could say he was supportive, yet worried. You can imagine what he was thinking: I was a college student who was getting sucked into music. His assessment of music was, “You’re going to end up in a bunch of smoky bars” – and I wanted to know when he’d been in them to see what was going on himself, you know? (laughter)
But when he heard my first record on the radio before he passed away, I think he felt better about it.
BR: Ah – that’s great that he got to hear where you were headed.
JM: And to be honest, there’s something to what he said about playing for a bunch of people who don’t really care – that is what happens if you’re not careful.
If you’re not aggressive about your music; if something doesn’t happen that makes it seem to be valuable; if it loses that magic that makes it important to people, then you do become background to a lot of people. You become the guy that they turn to and say, “Would you mind turning that down? We’re trying to have a conversation over here.” It’s a very tough game at times.
BR: So, it’s fair to say that seeing the Dillards really changed things for you.
JM: Absolutely. Plus, I wanted to be on stage. I worked in the magic shop at Disneyland for three years and I realized that I really enjoyed performing in front of people.
BR: I wanted to ask you about that: you really did work in a magic shop?
JM: Yes.
BR: At Disneyland?
JM: Yes. That was before I was playing music; I was 16 and I really wanted to work at Disneyland. We were living in Anaheim, CA at the time. I’d done a little bit of magic and knew some tricks and ended up working in the magic shop.
It was great: every 15 minutes you had a whole new audience you would pitch tricks to – a group of anywhere from 2 to 20 people. It was one of the best things somebody could be doing as far as learning to work in front of people, as you needed to be able to perform the trick and then turn around and sell it, you know? (goes into his magician’s pitch) “If you liked that trick, it’s only a buck fifty a deck. Any idiot can do these tricks – hey, I can do ‘em! What? That makes me an idiot? Well, I guess it does! You’ll take one? Great – that’s $1.52 with tax. Would you like a sack or a bag with that? What’s the difference? The sacks are a dollar each, the bags are free.”
BR: (laughing) Stop. Just stop.
JM: Well, anyway … (laughs) It was a great way to develop your rap and interact with a crowd.
Part Three: Getting To The Nitty Gritty
BR: For a while now, I’ve thought of the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band as the only band that’s broken up more times than The Who but is still together. Is that an accurate statement?
JM: Over the years, the band only ceased working and stopped once because of breaking up. There were a lot of mini fractures in between, but the show went on. That’s different than going on an “I-hate-us”, which is a band’s version of a hiatus.
There was a time in the late 90s when the band quit working while Jimmy Ibbotson and I did duo shows for a year.
BR: Because?
JM: Because it was fun, profitable, and easier at the time.
In 1968, after Paint Your Wagon, we’d put out three albums and we were done. We’d had a great run and we were done. That’s it; dissolve the bank account.
Six months went by and one night Jeff Hanna and I are watching Poco perform. We both turned to each other and said, “We can do this – let’s get back together” And we did.
Other than that, there’s been the typical coming-and-going of personnel – from six members to seven to six to five to four to six and so on – but Jimmy, Jeff, and I have pretty much played together since 1966. There was the time in the 90s when I went away, but I knew I was coming back eventually. The other breakups were things like being in the middle of a 10-night run somewhere and one of the guys comes in and says, “I’ve had it – I’m going home. You guys can finish without me. Goodbye.” And he walks out, you know? And the other guys look at me and ask, “What do you think we ought to do?” And I say, “I think we ought to divide the money four ways instead of five.” (laughter) “And the next show’s at 8 o’clock tomorrow night.” (laughter) Besides, he’ll be back.” And sure enough, the next day – about an hour before show time – in comes the guy who was going to be gone for good.
BR: I guess those really don’t count as breakups.
JM: Well, for instance, in May of 1977 we performed 28 sold-out shows in Russia as the first group from the United States to play there – a hectic schedule, but a wonderful event. By the time we returned home from that, it was just Jimmy, Jeff, and me because we’d gotten rid of the other two guys who were with us at the time. We had no band – there were just the three of us. So, technically, I guess you could call that a break-up – there was no group, no record company, and a questionable agent. We just stopped. From the outside, when a band loses two of its members, doesn’t have a label, and isn’t working, it looks like you broke up, you know? (laughter)
In actuality, we’d just said, “It’s been a good run; call me … sometime. Just not this month.” We knew that somewhere down the line, something was going to come together. Which it always did.
BR: Speaking of things coming together, it sounds like they did for Speed of Life, the album you put out last year. What was the impetus for the Dirt Band going back into the studio?
JM: Well, several years had gone by since our last album, Welcome To Woody Creek. I think it was a matter of us pushing each other: “What are we waiting for?” “Why don’t we learn some new songs?” “Well, what do you want to record?” And then finding a producer. And then in a market where there are no labels, finding the money to make our own album. And then finding the songs.
BR: For instance …
JM: Calling up a songwriter like Bobby Carpenter and saying, “We live so close and I’ve got this studio … why don’t we write something together?” And a month or so later, he calls me back and says, “I’m coming down there. I’ve got a song started – let’s finish it.” That’s where the song “Earthquake” came from.
BR: A cool tune; it has an old-timey feel, like a Bob-Wills-gliding-down-the-highway number that you’ve just tuned into on an old tube radio in the middle of the night.
JM: Thank you – that’s what we were going for. Some of that sound is the old lap steel I was telling you about – doesn’t that just sound like an old instrument?
BR: Absolutely.
JM: I wanted to put those lyrics in a setting like that; you don’t have old songs talking about hot tubs and earthquakes, you know? (laughter)
BR: No, I guess you don’t. Another cut that could just as easily be a field recording captured in a cabin 40 years ago is “Lost In The Pines”.
JM: Well, again, I tried to make it like that – thank you. If you listen to one of my albums like “Acoustic Traveler” – and I would appreciate it if you bought a copy (laughter) – you’ll realize that I attempt to do that; it’s hard to tell what year some of the songs were recorded.
*BR: It’s a cool effect; there are cobwebs in the corner and a little dust in the air – you can hear it
on the track. And then there’s “Speed of Life”, which is not only a great song, it’s the perfect title for the album.*
JM: When we got to that point, I said, “Look – there’s only one name for this album. It’s our 44th year; it’s been a while since the last one; and we have a song with the perfect title: ‘Speed Of Life’.”
BR: Was that a unanimous decision?
JM: Absolutely – I said my piece and left. And after the other three argued for a week, it was named Speed of Life. (laughter)
Interlude: It’s Called Dope
BR: I want to talk about some specific folks you’ve crossed paths with over the years, but before we do, I think it should be addressed that you’ve managed to avoid some of the pitfalls that have claimed a lot of people you’ve met in the music business.
JM: Well, for instance, I don’t think car accidents are good for your health. (laughter)
I never got into drugs or alcohol … I guess I never really talk about that. Do people talk about getting into drugs? “Yeah, I started doing coke and it was really great,” or “That’s when I began drinking Jim Beam.” I think that’s usually reserved for discussing wine, isn’t it? (laughter)
But no, I never got into any of that. It’s too expensive, man. Plus, the last I knew, cocaine was illegal. Do you know how nice it is to be able to go through life without using the words “bail”, “plaintiff”, or “defendant”? (laughter)
BR: Good point …
JM: That reduces a lot of stress. Plus, you’re not going through life saying, “Wha – where are we now? Where did we just play? Oh, cool …”
I guess I’ve never understood how people got drawn into it – except for the dealers, because they’re making a lot of money at the expense of others. And the users never saw that; they were convinced that they played better or that they were somehow cooler because of the drugs … and that’s always been a big mystery to me. I’ve watched it first hand, up close, and the one thing that was never discussed when people were buying was, “How’s business doing?”, you know? In our world, people ask you, “How’s the record doing?”, or “How did the gig go?” But no one ever asks the dealer, “How’re you doing? How’s business?” “Oh, I made ten grand last week.” I never understood that.
I’ll put it this way: I don’t have hate in my life, okay? But I do hate what dealers do to people.
Part Four: Folks Along The Road
BR: How about if I just throw some names at you and you can say as much or as little about each as you’d like?
JM: Sure – sounds good.
BR: This is Jambands.com – it only seems fitting that we start with Jerry Garcia.
JM: I always felt sorry for Jerry; he didn’t realize that his musical talent was better to develop than his drug habit. He was an incredible musician – an incredible musician – but didn’t see – nor realize – how he was limiting his life and his music.
It was funny, you know: you take someone like Jerry – the anti-establishment icon – who ended up as a celebrity. And he had a hard time with that.
BR: There’s a great picture of you, Steve Martin, and Jerry at the Golden State County Bluegrass Festival in San Rafael, CA in April of 1974 – three pickers with big shit-eating grins.
JM: Yeah, I always thought that Jerry enjoyed being a banjo picker. As I said, he was a great musician, but I just … I felt like I never saw him reach his full potential because of his drug habit.
BR: Speaking of Steve Martin …
JM: Appropriately enough, I met Steve in Tomorrowland, actually. He began working at Disneyland when he was 12 selling guidebooks – always made his own money. We both ended up getting jobs at the magic shop around the same time, which was really neat.
From there we ended up at the same high school together and hung out a lot. We both got interested in the banjo about the same time – I was a little quicker study in picking stuff up off records and I’d show him what I learned; he figured out some stuff on his own and we both started playing. He wrote a few songs back then and I really liked what he came up with – they were really well thought out pieces. That’s where he was ahead of me: coming up with new music.
As time went on, my brother Bill ended up managing Steve for about 20 years, along with producing his comedy albums and movies at the time. I did the music scores for a couple of his TV specials. And the Dirt Band played the music for “King Tut”, Steve’s big hit in the 70s.
BR: And most recently, you produced his Grammy-winning bluegrass album The Crow. How did that come to be?
JM: Steve and I went in and out of being in contact over a 47-year period. I think we got a little closer about the time he put out his biography (_Born Standing Up_) as he sent me a copy to proofread and make corrections. We got talking about the music thing and I said, “I think you should do an album of your own material.” His reaction was, “I don’t have enough.” And I told him, “Write some more.”
Steve came up with some really great songs. And once I heard them, I knew I wanted to produce the album: “I think I can do a good job for you.” And that’s basically how it came about.
BR: From Jerry’s Old & In The Way days: Vassar Clements.
JM: (laughs) Vassar was always amused by that situation. I remember watching them play once and Vassar’s standing off on stage right about five feet way from the rest of the group. They’d finish a song and then stand around and try to figure out what to do next while Vassar’s waiting … plucking fiddle … lighting his pipe … wait, wait, wait, you know?
I think the music that Old & In The Way made was wonderful, but I don’t believe they paid proper respect to the way the people they were emulating actually performed the music – which was with an attitude of fun and entertainment. They were just there for the music – which is fine. And with Vassar there, they did have some of the real notes. Peter Rowan, who was also in that band, is another excellent practitioner of that style.
It’s just my opinion, but I always liked what people did onstage between songs and with the songs as much as the music. Flatt & Scruggs, for example, were funny. The Dillards were the best example of a mix of the Smothers Brothers and Flatt & Scruggs.
But at the same time, Old & In The Way directed a bunch of people towards bluegrass who might have never listened to it.
BR: Del McCoury.
JM: Pure, real, consistently artistically excellent – and what a voice! One of the few great rhythm guitar players out there. And a fine bunch of boys – just like my kids, they pick even better than the old man. (laughs) Del is a fine guy; he and his wife are just wonderful to be around.
BR: David Lindley.
JM: Don’t look behind the curtain – please. Don’t! You’ll be sorry! Oh, no– it’s Lindley! (laughter) David is the true wizard behind the curtain. I’m not even sure he knows what’s on his mind. Just an incredible player. What’s the best thing anyone ever said to me about my lap steel playing? What’s the highest compliment? “That reminds me of David Lindley.”
I took one banjo lesson from David Lindley back in ’65 or ’66. When we were at Disneyland, Steve and I used to take our breaks at night, timing it so that we could go watch the Mad Mountain Ramblers with David Lindley in Frontierland.
BR: Lindley was at Disneyland, too? Oh, wow …
JM. Uh-huh. Right there in Frontierland. And we couldn’t wait to get over there and watch him. (laughter)
I think I’d call David Lindley a new old master who’s very overlooked.
BR: Sam Bush.
JM: (laughs) In the early days, the boys were always amused that he carried his own pillow on the road. He got over that, though. (laughter) A scale-running maniac who turned the scales into art. An intense player with the personality to go with it – but never in a negative way, just a lot of energy.
Every time I’ve worked with Sam, he’s been totally wonderful. He was on my String Wizards album and I was glad to actually have him struggle on one song – “Stars And Stripes Forever”. He actually had to spend 10 minutes learning something. (laughter)
BR: Bela Fleck.
JM: Bela Fleck has more technical skill in one hand than I do in two. Every time I hear him play it seems like there is a lot I forgot to learn! (laughs) But I’m proud to know him, and have admired his abilities since the first time I ever heard him play.
BR: Willie Nelson.
JM: Cordial. The gentleman hippie of country music – but take out the word “country”, because what he plays is really “Willie music.” Calling what he plays “country” is like calling the Beatles’ music “rock and roll” – you can take a Beatles song and put it onto almost any format. The same applies to Willie’s music and it will survive quite well, thank you.
Willie really is one of my favorite guitar players. And he works at it, too – he practices every day. I really think he’s sometimes overlooked as a guitar player.
BR: Another name who was known as a singer, but was a great picker, as well: Willie’s old buddy, Waylon Jennings.
JM: Waylon was a true American artist – he wasn’t trying to be like anyone. That’s one of the differences between people like Waylon and Willie and some of the names who have gotten into the music business in the last 20 years or so – a lot of them are trying too hard to be like somebody else. They’re not quite sure what they are.
BR: Johnny Cash knew who he was …
JM: Absolutely. “Hello, I’m Johnny Cash.” What a funny thing for him to walk on stage and say, you know? But it was a clever thing for him to do, as it immediately put everyone at ease. There was a humility there. I was privileged to have been able to spend some time with him.
BR: The Allman Brothers.
JM: We first met in St. Louis in 1967. They were the Allman Joys and my brother Bill convinced them to move to LA, where they changed their name to The Hour Glass. They were struggling, trying to find themselves.
When I saw them a couple of years later … wow. Duane was the best to ever come along as far as innovative guitar playing. He was as good as anyone out there – he had more soul than some who were lauded more.
Greg was – and still is to this day – one of my favorite voices and live singers to watch. To hear the music these guys continue to make as they’ve straightened themselves out proves how good they are.
The Allman Brothers created something as powerful and as influential and as stirring as what the Beach Boys created. It’s a powerful thing.
BR: From the jazz world: Dizzy Gillespie.
JM: The Dirt Band’s first job at Carnegie Hall – we’ve played there four times – was opening for Bill Cosby. We’d done a few shows with him prior to that night and he had a routine worked out with us. He had me show him how to go “dang-danga-dang-danga-dang” on the open strings of the fiddle. He’d go out, do 10 minutes of stuff, pick up my fiddle and say, “I’ve got a group I want you guys to hear.” Then he’d bring us out and say, “Let me start a song and get you guys going” – and he’d do that “dang-danga-dang-danga-dang” thing and we’d take off on “Jambalaya”. It was a clever trick.
But the first Carnegie Hall night, Mr. Cosby says, “I have a friend of mine here tonight that I’d like to have jam with you guys. Maybe play a 4-bar blues in E; something that would be easy, okay?” And we said, “Yeah, sure – we can cover that.”
And who was his friend? Dizzy Gillespie. (laughter)
I was like, “What? Our first night at Carnegie Hall and we’re going to do an unrehearsed jam with Dizzy Gillespie? Okay, okay … I’m in …” (laughter)
I think I might’ve played an E chord all the way through the thing. And Dizzy was standing right next to me, puffy cheeks and all. (laughter)
BR: And now for something completely different – The Doors?
JM: We did a run of 15-18 shows in CA with the Doors, followed by a 12-city tour on the East Coast. Back then, groups that were on the radio would get bookings together.
I was never a huge fan of the angst portrayed by Jim Morrison. I thought he was a good actor, but then the actor started believing the script and began thinking that it was as important as the other people thought it was. I wish he would’ve thought of some of the art that he was creating, but … I don’t know. You can’t tell someone how to live their life, right?
I do believe that if the Doors had survived and if Jim had decided to keep on being a singer it couldn’t have lasted much longer with that level of angst. Some of it was pretty depressing. Light My Fire was a cool thing – people can sing that around the campfire, you know? But some of the later stuff …
There was the other side of them – what’s the song where he sings (goes into exaggerated lounge lizard voice), “I’m gonna love you ‘til the heavens …”
BR: “Touch Me”?
JM: Right – that’s the part right after he gets done screaming “Touch me, baby.” So you see, there was a lounge singer in there, too. Probably if The Doors had survived, they’d be playing in some of the finer casinos in the country these days. (laughter)
BR: How about Mr. Dylan?
JM: The first concert I ever promoted was Bob Dylan at a high school in Long Beach, CA in 1965. I got him for $2000. It sold out. (laughter) I knew he had something. (laughter)
I really enjoyed his book Chronicles when he talked about things like “Why do you want me to come to Washington? Because you tell me I’m ‘the voice of a generation?’ I’m a songwriter. I’m glad you like the song, but I’m going to take my kids to the beach.” (laughter)
Bob Dylan is one of my favorite lyricists; and I thought he was incredibly clever to create a new style of singing and create the controversy that he did. The power of Dylan’s voice is best felt when you listen to the “We Are The World” record. You have all these incredible singers, but when Dylan comes in and does his verse, you feel like, “Yeah – tell it, Bob!”, you know? It’s an identifiable voice.
BR: We could go on for quite a while longer, but I‘ll toss one more name at you and call it good: I believe that you’ve crossed paths with Phish in the past, correct?
JM: The first time I met Phish, I’d asked my son Ryan what he wanted for his birthday and he said “I want you to go see a Phish show with me.” So I had him pick one, which he did – a show in Sacramento. He was actually out following them around, so I flew into Sacramento to go to the show with him.
BR: So this wasn’t a “Take me to a Phish show” sort of thing – he would’ve been there anyway, but he wanted to share the night with you. That’s cool.
JM: Yeah. So I picked up the paper to check out what “club” they were playing … right: Arco Arena. 12,000 seats. (laughs) The last I knew, they were an up-and-coming band, playing clubs, you know?
So Ryan says, “What do you want to do?” And I said, “Well, meet me at the loading dock on the west side of the building at 4:00 – we’ll go in for soundcheck.”
“How do you know they’re going to be there doing a soundcheck then?” he asks. And I said, “Ryan – trust me. There are certain things about this business that are just obvious and simple.” (laughter)
So we’re standing there by this ramp at 4:00 when the bus pulls up. And my son says, “That’s Trey, the guitar player up in front.” And I’m like, “Well, that’s cool.”
The door opens and Trey gets off the bus and sees us standing there: “Hey! John McEuen! You wanna sit in with us?” (laughter)
And I’m like, “Sure – I’d be glad to, if we can get my son in with me. Maybe work in dinner, too?” And Trey says, “Sure – get on the bus.” (laughter)
BR: Oh, man – what a birthday present!
JM: This is what got me: they were doing two two-hour sets, okay? One of the guys was writing a list for the second set and I said, “Oh – I didn’t know if you used a set list.” He says, “Yeah, I want to make sure we don’t repeat anything.” And I said, “From the first show?” And he says, “No – from this week.” I was amazed that they had already done six or seven 4-hour shows without repeating a song. I haven’t even listened to that many songs in my life! (laughter)
BR: Do you remember what you played that night?
JM: I think we did two Dillards songs, plus “Amazing Grace” and a Phish tune that I played lap steel on. It was great – a fun combination of roots music and that whole Phish vibe.
[Note: The Phish Companion lists this as 11/30/96. John McEuen played banjo on “The Old Home Place” and “Uncle Pen” during the first set, returning on lap steel later during “Amazing Grace Jam” and the “Possum” encore.]
BR: Who haven’t you played with that you’d really like to?
JM: Paul McCartney.
BR: Wow – I’m shocked that you haven’t played with him.
JM: So am I. (laughter)
BR: Anybody new that really excites you?
JM: Chelsea Williams. She’s a 21-year-old singer/songwriter/guitarist playing on the street in Santa Monica. Her MySpace page has over 600,000 hits and her FaceBook has an incredible number of downloads. She’s a voice of not only her generation, but of the one that preceded it. I’m serious – check her out.
BR: Well, I will – thanks for that. So, in closing … (laughter)
JM: I can honestly say its been a great and fun life so far, even though some of the work hours and travel has been long and difficult … but then, I am playing a banjo. (laughter)
The downs have made me appreciate the ups – and it does seem if you look for them or try to make them happen, then there are more ups. I feel like I am just getting under way, and I look forward to seeing where it goes from here.
