Featuring Peter Rowan on guitar and vocals, Bill Keith on banjo, Clarence White on guitar and vocals, Richard Greene on fiddle, and David Grisman on mandolin and vocals, Muleskinner existed for far too brief a time in the early 1970s. Their music is dynamic but the discography small. There’s one studio album for Warner Brothers and one live recording, originally broadcast on PBS, that has finally made its vinyl debut. Courtesy of the Liberation Hall label, Muleskinner Live is available now.
Over the decades since Muleskinner’s abrupt end (due to Clarence White’s tragic death by drunk driver), the outfit has occasionally been called the first bluegrass supergroup. The distinction of first is arguable perhaps, but given their lineup, the terminology of supergroup is no overstatement. White’s run as a full-time member of the Byrds, which began with Dr. Byrds and Mr. Hyde and culminated with Farther Along (five studio albums in all), is obviously integral to the designation.
But don’t let’s underrate Peter Rowan and David Grisman, who were both members of the Boston-based Earth Opera. Indeed, due to Grisman’s subsequent fame (which really kicked into gear after Muleskinner), Earth Opera are maybe the best known of all the bands associated with the commercially underwhelming yet fitfully interesting Bosstown Sound scene.
Prior to Earth Opera, Grisman was a member of The Even Dozen Jug Band as heard on their sole 1964 album. Save for one track from ’73, the music on Grisman’s Early Dawg (released in 1980) was recorded live in ’66 with a band featuring Del McCoury. Grisman also plays guitar and sings a little on Hazel Dickens and Alice Gerrard’s splendid Won’t You Come and See Me, which was recorded in ’67 but not issued until ’73 by Folkways. Post-Earth Opera, he turns up on The Grateful Dead’s American Beauty, playing mandolin on two of the album’s most beloved songs, “Friend of the Devil” and “Ripple.”
After Earth Opera, Rowen was part of Sea Train with Muleskinner’s Richard Greene. The band’s second and third albums, 1970’s Seatrain (the name of the band having morphed) and ’71’s The Marblehead Messenger, were produced by George Martin (yes, he of Beatles fame). Prior to Seatrain, Greene played with the Jim Kweskin Jug Band (Garden of Joy, 1967), The Blues Project (Planned Obsolescence, ’68), Brewer & Shipley (Weeds, ’69), and easily most germane to Muleskinner’s stylistic inspiration, the bluegrass cornerstone Bill Monroe (Blue Grass Time, ’67).
And now let’s wrap it back around to White; prior to joining The Byrds, the man’s session work was extensive, including crucial earlier Byrds albums Younger Than Yesterday and Sweetheart of the Rodeo, and also Gene Clark with the Gosdin Brothers in sessions that featured Doug Dillard, Glen Campbell, Leon Russell, and Van Dyke Parks. But before all that, White was a member of the bluegrass outfit the Kentucky Colonels.
All of the above background should make it plain that Muleskinner was more than capable as an instrumental unit. Hell, banjo ace Bill Keith even has a stye of flatpicking named after him (that would be “Keith style”). Keith played even more extensively with Monroe and was also in the Kweskin Jug Band for a while, playing on Garden of Joy with Greene, in fact. Additionally, he’s heard with Grisman and McCoury on Early Dawg.
So yeah, as nomenclature, supergroup works perfectly well for Muleskinner, sharp players all but also versatile, as the two albums offer distinct flavors. Muleskinner Live was actually recorded first, for a television program that was intended to include Monroe, though a reported tour bus problem scuttled that. This might be why the show didn’t hit PBS until the late 1970s, and why Muleskinner Live wasn’t released as a soundtrack recording until 1998 on CD.
The delay is a bit of a headscratcher, as the audio makes clear the night was an unqualified success (it’s what scored them the opportunity to cut that record for Warner Brothers), and in straight-ahead bluegrass style. Congregated to play with Monroe remember, the band lacks a drummer (John Guerin joined for the studio album). On this night, Stuart Schulman completes the band on upright bass.
They open the set with “New Camptown Races,” an instrumental emphasizing both individual aptitude and seamless group cohesiveness. But with “Dark Hallow,” vocal harmony enters the scheme, and with enough richness to satisfy the bluegrass hardliners while simultaneously attracting the younger crowd (the maturing hippies, as it were) like moths to a lamplight.
While Muleskinner is loaded with traditional songs, two numbers were penned by the participants. “Land of the Navajo,” a Rowan tune that really illuminates the progressive bluegrass underpinnings of the ensemble, is the first. Unsurprisingly, it’s frequent in Rowan’s discography, and it sounds pretty sweet here as it subtly accentuates Muleskinner’s collective voice. It’s quickly followed, and right on time, by another instrumental workout, “Blackberry Blossom,” wherein Greene’s fiddle is a delight.
“Knockin’ on Your Door,” a song credited to Edd Mayfield, deepens Muleskinner’s bluegrass bona fides, with the tune surely learnt through Monroe’s live repertoire, as Mayfield was twice a member of the Bluegrass Boys before dying suddenly of leukemia in 1958 (the Mayfield Brothers’ version, made at home on a reel-to-reel tape recorder, went unreleased until 2006, when it opened the obscure CD Vintage Recordings 1948-1956, released by the Patuxent label).
This deep cut contrasts pretty nicely with Grisman’s “Opus 57 in G Minor,” which highlights the mandolin virtuosity of its composer while leaving room for Keith and Greene and even Schulman, with the latter’s brief solo spot tightening the link between bluegrass instrumental maneuvering and similar structuring honed in 1950s hard bop jazz (like something heard on a Prestige LP).
Beginning a string of trad tunes, “Red Rocking Chair” brought Dock Boggs to my mind, though the execution here is much smoother and more refined as is the bluegrass way. From there, “Going to the Races” is an up-tempo burner built for the live stage, while “Eighth of January” gives Greene, Grisman, and White ample room to shine. And with “I Am a Pilgrim,” Muleskinner shows they can effectively slow it down and tap into that High Lonesome sound.
After that, a dive into a pair of Monroe tunes keeps matters rolling, “The Dead March” (a song Monroe learned from his uncle Pendleton Vandiver) strengthening the old-timey atmosphere (Greene’s fiddle soars like he’s channeling Uncle Bunt Stephens) and “Sitting Alone in the Moonlight” deepening the bluesy angle (it’s almost jug band-esque) as Maria Muldaur joins in on backing vocals.
Closing out the evening with a sprint through that formal staple “Orange Blossom Special” might seem a tad predictable, but that’s obviously in retrospect. In 1973, these guys still had a little to prove (well, maybe) and furthermore, a whole big chunk of musically curious listeners probably hadn’t yet heard that bluegrass tour de force. It brings the album to a rousing conclusion.
For the studio LP (also in need of reissue), along with Guerin on drums, John Khan stepped in on bass. With electric guitar prominent, that one’s a decidedly more country-rock-ish affair. And that’s cool, but it’s not Muleskinner Live, which establishes, beyond a shadow of a doubt, the band’s acumen as a pure bluegrass machine.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
A-
