Banjoist Noam Pikelny has been a fixture in the bluegrass, jamband and festival communities for a decade thanks to his time with noted roots acts like Leftover Salmon and Punch Brothers. But most of the country first heard his name just last year when he won the inaugural Steve Martin Prize for Excellence in Banjo and Bluegrass. The award helped land The Punch Brothers on late night TV and anointed Pikelny “the banjo world’s next big thing.”
It also inspired him to return to the studio to record his first album in almost seven years. Produced by fellow Punch Brother Gabe Witcher, Beat the Devil and Carry a Rail is something of an all-star effort featuring Martin, Punch Brothers leader Chris Thile, Tim O’Brien, Jerry Douglas, Stuart Duncan, Chris Eldridge, and Mark Schatz, among others. Later this fall, Pikelny will also hit the road in support of the traditional bluegrass disc with his own solo outfit. Shortly before the album’s release, the banjo ace traced his love of Yonder Mountain String Band to his first Late Show appearance.
Let’s start with some background info. It has been a number of years since the release of your first solo album. In that time you’ve achieved newfound fame with Punch Brothers and also won the Steve Martin Prize for Excellence in Banjo and Bluegrass. When did you first start working on this new solo release?
I’ve been gathering tunes on and off for the past four or five years and constantly bringing the material to produce in the writing room. So I had lots of ideas that were kind of stacking up and tunes that were starting to materialize over the last few years. It was early this year—in about February—that I looked at the calendar and realized if I don’t do a record right now it’s going to be a long time—well into 2012—before I have a chance to go into the studio again. Punch Brothers are heading into the studio this week to put together a record and most of next year is going to be devoted to touring behind that record. So it was a goal of mine to get back into the studio—after all this time had passed since my first release in 2004—and just by looking at the calendar and seeing what I can master tune-wise, here’s the chance to do it. So the plans were put into motion, and we recorded the record over the course of a week in April this year.
You mentioned that you’ve been amassing ideas for the past few years, would you say that some of these songs were written with Punch Brothers in mind? Or were they mostly songs that you felt didn’t fit with the Punch Brothers repertoire?
I’ve been sitting around with my banjo and working through ideas, and I’ll make little voice demos on my phone. If I come up with something that I like—it could be a short three or four-second musical idea or it could be a part to a tune—a lot of times I’ll bring it to the band and those types of things are really just seeds for a whole song. There are certain little snippets of things that are more appropriate for the band and, at that point, there’s so much room for development and expansion that you kind of bounce an idea off the band. If people are interested, we can move forward and it could turn into something that I had never imagined it would be. So I wouldn’t say that the songs on this album are rejects from Punch Brothers writing sessions whatsoever. Most of them are things that I never presented to the band because I thought they would be best served in a more traditional format.
[This album] is sort of a new version of a traditional instrumental album, and some of these songs were things that I’ve had for a long time. This song “Day Down” was something I had for four or five years. The first part of that one—in fact—was part of a song I had worked on and brought to Punch Brothers. We ended up using the second half of that song so I had the first half of “Day Down” lingering and wrote something new for the second part. There were a lot of ideas, and a lot of new things that were stockpiled once the band started working on my solo record. I tried to write some things that would cater well to the musicians. Things like “Boathouse on the Lullwater”—those songs kind of came in as a result of sing-alongs with the banjo and trying to write a melody that would sound great on a dobro. I had Jerry Douglas in mind for that song, as soon as I knew I was going to have an opportunity to play with him.
One of the more surprising songs on your solo album is a cover of Tom Waits’ “Fish and Bird.” Given that your goal was to make more of a “traditional sounding” bluegrass album, what led you to Tom Waits?
I was admittedly unaware of Tom Waits music until a couple of years ago. I don’t know how I could’ve missed it because it’s just right out there in front of everybody for the taking. But I never got behind Tom Waits until a couple of years ago when some friends of mine played the album Alice, late-night one time, and I was really blown away by the record. I always thought that that song “Fish and Bird” would be a really fun song to work up—it is just a beautiful tune. [Singer] Aoife O’Donovan lives in New York as well. We sat down about a year ago at this point and just had a jam session in a friend’s apartment. I asked her if she knew the words to that song, and she had played around with singing it before. So we worked up a little duet version of the song, and I asked her to sing it on the record.
We rearranged it for a full band, and I was a little hesitant to do that. I think of myself as an instrumentalist, not a lyricist. I was a little apprehensive at first about putting vocals on this record—it felt out of the blue to have some other singer on this album of mostly instrumental music. I went back and forth, and [Punch Brothers fiddler and album producer Gabe Witcher] made the argument that playing behind a singer is a strong suit of mine and it should be something that’s represented on this record. The more I thought about it, I kind of agreed with him that it was an aspect of my playing that I wanted to showcase. And, if anything, it is an important task for any musician to be able to play supportively behind a singer. For me, there’s nothing really as satisfying as getting to play with a wonderful singer, which is why I also brought in Tim O’Brien. Having my two favorite singers in the entire world was a little bit of a selfish endeavor ‘cause I really wanted to record with them, but I think other people may appreciate it as well.
You mentioned Punch Brothers fiddler Gabe Witcher, who produced this album. I heard this was actually the first time he acted in a traditional producer role. How did he get involved in the project?
We spend so much time around each other. He’s a musician that I really trust, and I feel like he really understands and knows what I’m capable of. He could be a really good judge of a really good moment for me—what’s a transcendent moment or what’s a mediocre moment—because he’s heard me play too much at this point.
And Gabe has been really extraordinarily involved in all of the Punch Brothers recordings, way beyond just playing violin and singing. The work that went into the music beforehand [is almost a producer role]. He spent a lot of time in the studio when he lived in Los Angeles. He’s always wanted to get into producing records and learning how to engineer and just kind of figuring out what things translate well in the studio. I took notice when we were making the latest Punch Brother record—he was just kind of a sponge, trying to absorb as much information and wisdom as possible from the producers and the engineers like Jon Brion, who it was a real opportunity to be around. He’s one of the greatest producers and artists that’s on the map right now.
So I was aware of Gabe’s interest in doing this—he was also very encouraging to me. When I decided to make this record, the team really came into focus quite quickly. I knew Gabe was the right guy, and I knew it would be a good challenge for him to actually be the official producer and take the record from start to finish. It was also very convenient: we were able to use our time on the road with Punch Brothers to prepare. We’d meet in hotel rooms, work on arrangements and finish a few songs that I had hit some stumbling blocks on. So there are a few co-writes between Gabe and I on there. I also thought it’d be a really neat shift to have Gabe in the control room producing a hero of ours. Just for Gabe to produce Stuart Duncan’s track on the record was a neat scenario. Gabe is a guy that’s really familiar with Stuart’s playing as well as Jerry Douglas’ playing. At first I think it may have been a little intimidating to actually get feedback from these guys who are such intellectuals to us. After a little while it was really natural and we moved forward.
A lot of bluegrass luminaries contributed to this album. Were they pretty much all in the room recording or did you piece it together in different sessions?
The record was recorded with everybody in the room and the only two overdubs that happened on the record—as far as the people coming in after the fact and layering things—were on “Fish and Bird.” Jeff Taylor, from a creditable band called The Time Jumpers from Nashville and the incredible Mike Compton, wasn’t available to play that track live so he added his mandolin on about a day later. But everything else was recorded with everybody there and that was the goal from the beginning.
When I was planning this record, I was trying to decide who I should get to play the parts. I asked Bela Fleck for some advice and he said, “Well, what you need to do is hire musicians who are gonna inspire you to take it up a notch. Just being around them is going to be so special to you and make you give your absolute best and even take some more risks.” I really always wanted to play with Stuart Duncan, Jerry Douglas and Tim O’Brien. I’ve gotten to play with them informally at festivals and it was always fun, but I’ve always been so inspired by those guys. So I wanted that experience to happen all there, in the studio. It wasn’t enough to just have Stuart Duncan add fiddle to my record two weeks two weeks later—I wanted him in the studio with us. In my mind, I don’t think it would have had the same psychological effect that having him on the other side of the room playing with us—having to take a solo after he took a solo or playing back-up behind him. It was just a necessity to have everybody there live. It didn’t seem like the concept would hold up if having all these luminaries out there and people coming in after the fact and layering this thing, building the track up from scratch.
Last year, you won the Steve Martin Prize for Excellence in Banjo and Bluegrass, which I’m sure opened up a lot of doors. For you, what has been the most surprising or the most unique door that’s opened in terms of people you’ve been able to play with or in terms of exposure?
I think it’s definitely led to increased visibility for me and for Punch Brothers. Punch Brothers is the outlet where people can come hear me play as far as the fact that we have had a CD come out in the past few years—Punch Brothers is my main musical offering. And so the impact of the award—and the recognition—I think was really felt through these Punch Brothers experiences.
I think the first time I realized it had made an impact was in December of last year. It was the first little tour we had done since the award happened and since we had played on [ Late Show with David Letterman ]. There were people who came to the Chicago show who had never heard of Punch Brothers before and their first forte into this world was seeing us on television. And people came up to the merch table and bought everything in our catalog because it was their first time ever seeing us. It was impressive—it’s one thing to hear something on television, maybe pick up the CD online or buy a track or two, but the award drove people to our concerts. I’d say at almost every show there will be somebody who comes up to us—if we’re out there visiting the merch table—who will tell us that the award is how they first heard of us. I wouldn’t say that it’s turned my life upside down or that my experiences as a musician have been completely different because of winning this award. There has been a shock winning this award because it was out of the blue and it was the first year. There was no anticipation. There wasn’t any possibility of imagining like, “Who’s going to get this award this year!” All of a sudden, I got this thing in the mail, and I had to try to understand what all this meant. And looking back it was very surreal, but after the initial couple of weeks of celebrating and being in shock and winding down after the Letterman performance, it was back to business.
If anything, the award highlighted to me how delinquent I had become in putting out another solo record. I think it was easy to get absorbed in the fabric of Punch Brothers, which is really my home base and where I’m most comfortable. But this award for a second shined a spotlight on me, and it illuminated the fact that it had been six years at that point since I had done a record of my own. I think I felt a little bit more pressure to get that done. It was definitely a good side effect of it all.
You mentioned the first time people had heard of you was through the TV appearance you guys made and after you won the award. But the first time I heard of you—and the first time many Relix/Jambands.com readers head of you—was through your time in Leftover Salmon. I was wondering if you could talk about how you got involved in Leftover Salmon and how that led to you being in The Punch Brothers?
I feel like I can trace the whole thing back to Salmon. Everything snowballed out of my first entry into the world of playing music professionally with them. I was in Champaign, Illinois, going to college. I was at the University of Illinois and had entered school as a computer-engineering student, but quickly switched to the music theory department because I was having to do way too much homework, and it was really getting in the way of playing music with some new-found friends. These new-found friends were two-fifths of the band that had existed in Champaign.
These two guys, Ethan James and Dan Broader, became my best friends in college and were both really good bluegrass guitar players. At the same time, you have the Bluegrassholes [featuring future Yonder Mountain String Band members Jeff Austin and Dave Johnston], who had just left Champaign about four or five months before I had got to Champaign. So there was a void as far as bluegrass bands went because Dave and Jeff had left.
I started playing with Dan and Ethan, and, eventually, a little band emerged from those kickin’ parties. I was also introduced to Dave and Jeff the first time they came back through Champaign touring as the Yonder Mountain String Band. They played a small club in downtown Champaign—you can’t even call it a club, it was a bar. There’s no sound system. They brought in a sound system and there were probably 150 people there, tops. But it was absolutely packed.
I had never been to a show before where people were playing bluegrass instruments and the audience was that young. They were super energetic, dancing and being really rowdy. It was really eye opening. I was kind of blown away by the fact that they were playing these instruments to a young crowd ‘cause in my high school people were into ska, not bluegrass. I always felt like I had to go elsewhere. I lived separate lives in high school, going to bluegrass festivals, jam sessions and concerts with my family and on my own. I was never into all the music that was associated with people my age. Then I got to college and that really tore down the assumptions I had made about who was into all these different styles of music, and I think that made a lasting impact on me.
I saw Dave and Jeff and all the excitement in that room and thought, “Maybe I could actually consider making a living doing this. Maybe there is an audience out there who is interested in hearing these instruments and new music.” So it was pretty important to have the experience of seeing that show.
I got in touch with Dave and Jeff there in Champaign with my friend Ethan and Dan, and we would play music over the next few years and travel around and see the Yonder guys—we’d go to New Year’s Eve shows and things like that, and we became good friends with those guys. When [Leftover Salmon banjo player] Mark Vann got sick and Leftover Salmon started looking for a banjo player to fill in during Mark’s treatment, I think Dave and Jeff kind of submitted me as an option for a banjo player—they were lobbying for them to check out my playing. Eventually, those guys gave me a call and it could not have been more unfortunate circumstances to getting that gig. If history could’ve been rewritten where there I did not get that gig, I would have wished it so because Mark Vann was a really great musician and great human being. I only had two encounters with him where I got to play with him. One of them was at the Canopy Club in Champaign almost a year to the day before he got diagnosed.
When Mark passed, I had no idea what the band’s plans were. I didn’t fill in with Salmon while Mark was still fighting and alive—at that point they had been using substitutes. Like Tony Furtado, Jeff Mosier, and Matt Flinner. Mark had already passed away when they first called to ask me to come and fill-in.
After Mark had passed, a little bit of time went by and they got in touch and asked if I wanted to come out and play some shows—just to fill in. They had called me a week before my senior year of college was starting in August of 2002. They flew me out, and I played some shows in California with them. After two shows they offered me the spot. They asked if I wanted to stay on board and join the band. At that point, I was going back to school in a week to finish this music theory degree. My goal was to play music, find a group of guys to join up with and play the banjo for them. And here was this ridiculous opportunity to go on the road with this incredibly established band with one of the most loyal fan bases in existence, and I couldn’t resist. So I went back to Champaign with four days before classes were supposed to start, canceled all my classes and filled out all paperwork to go on academic leave and sublet my apartment. Within six weeks, I was living in a basement loft in Colorado with Dave Johnston and Adam from Yonder. So it happened very quickly.
Did you find it easy to adapt your style to Salmon’s repertoire?
I thought I was well suited for the job because Mark’s playing on his electric banjo, which he called the stump, was really influenced by Telecaster playing—the soul chicken-pickin’ style of electric country guitar which was also one of my real loves. I was a huge fan of Albert Lee, Richard Flack, James Burton and Brent Mason—those guys have played a bunch of Telecasters. I feel like when I first started playing Telecaster—and then came back to playing banjo—it really informed my style. That was something Mark and I had in common. I think maybe that’s one of the reasons why those guys were drawn to me—the songs on the electric banjo where it wasn’t just a plugged-in bluegrass banjo on overdrive. The more electric stuff [really worked], I think I was a really good fit for everyone.
How did that gig lead to The Punch Brothers?
I did a few years with Salmon and then ended up moving to Nashville. I started playing with John Cowan from the New Grass Revival in 2005. I ran into Chris Thile one night at [Telluride, CO’s] Sheridan Opera House one time. They have this tradition of the late-night show, and they always have an open invitation to musicians at Telluride to come through and play. Thile and I had met at RockyGrass a few years before and even played a song together in a very large, orchestra jam backstage with 35 people. So we had met, but I don’t think it registered.
But this time, I was on stage sitting in with Yonder and the next thing I know, Thile walked up and we kind of got into this extensive jam with Yonder backing us up. I think, at one point, Jeff Austin looked at everybody in the band and was like, “Let’s bring it down” and the whole band faded out to me and Chris improvising behind each other. I think that was our first real musical experience. We continued playing later on that night: Chris got in touch when he was in Nashville that summer and next thing we knew, he was calling us all up to form this ensemble to record this piece off his of album Blind Leading the Blind. He had this dream of writing this four-movement string quintet piece that was informed by a form of classical music and folk music. He had hinted about recording this big experimental piece, but I was assuming he was going to it with the acoustic titans like Bela Fleck, Jerry Douglas and guys who had played on his last record, Not All Who Wander Are Lost.
I assumed that it was definitely going to be a record with those guys, but I think he was looking for something that could be a little bit more long term—where people were gonna have the availability to really jump in head first into a project and really live it for a year. So he got in touch, seeing if we were interested in recording this and, of course, everybody obliged immediately. It was such a fun and meaningful experience just rehearsing The Blind Leading the Blind that we decided that we wanted this to be a long term, more full-time band. So we put The Blind Leading The Blind on the backburner for the moment and recorded this album called How to Grow a Woman from the Ground first, which was kind of the Punch Brothers’ introduction to the world. We decided to do something a little more accessible and closer to our roots as our first entry as a band. And then later moved back to The Blind Leading the Blind. We have been working together ever since then.
