In The Beginning -- it was Thile

I'm not new to this site, but I am new to the log-in. I've been playing the mandolin (fooling around with it would be more appropriate) for two or three years, ever since I found out you can get a cheap mandolin at Amazon for about fifty bucks. I bought one for each of my adult children and, not being able to resist, one for myself. My main focus at the time was the banjo, frailing or clawhammer style, and I was caught up in that world. But in the summer of 2010, I went to a concert at a nearby park to see one of my wife's favorite musicians -- Bruce Hornsby.  Opening for Mr. Hornsby was a group I had vaguely heard of, Punch Brothers. That night turned out to be a revelation for me.

I had been brought up on bluegrass music, but of the Hee Haw variety, and I didn't like it very much. It all seemed too slick and phony. As a middle-aged adult, a friend gave me a banjo, making me promise that I would learn to play it clawhammer style, not Scrugg's style. I didn't really like Scrugg's style because I associated it with my Hee Haw days, so that was an easy promise to make. As I started to learn, watching YouTube videos and picking up what I could at Clifftop and from any player I could watch or listen to, I learned the difference between the showmanship and spectacle of the Hee Haw crowd and the authentic voices and playing of Roscoe Holcomb, Doc Boggs and others, and I found a real love and passion for the banjo that I still have.

But back to the mandolin. If I hadn't been a banjo player, I wouldn't have known who Punch Brothers were when they took the stage. So I was pleased to be able to hear them live. And then I heard Chris Thile start to play the mandolin, and my world started to change. Although, as I watched, he didn't so much play it as become one with it, use it the way a great singer uses her voice, the way a great violinist plays his instrument. I was reminded, as a watched him play, of Yo Yo Ma, the way he appears to lose himself in the music, the way he seems to be drawing from the relationship he has with his cello something ethereal, almost supernatural, at times. Thile and his band mates played some great tunes, impeccably, and I was very impressed.

But then, soon after the main act, Bruce Hornsby came out, he did something odd. At least odd to my mind, because I still didn't know who Chris Thile was. He invited Thile to come out on the stage to play something with the band. I thought at the time, isn't that nice, Horsby giving this kid a chance and some exposure. He explained in introducing Thile that he had first met him at a festival when Thile was still a kid, and Thile had stopped him backstage to talk about one of Horsby's songs that he and the band he belonged to at the time, Nickel Creek, were having trouble with. I had no idea who Nickel Creek was, but I thought the audacity of Thile was endearing, so I looked forward to hearing him play with Hornsby.

Once Thile came out, he never left the stage. And, in many ways, he owned it. Horsby is a pianist I admire, I like his style, but once Thile started to play, it was clear who was driving things. It was like having Larry Bird or Magic Johnson or Michael Jorgan come in off the bench, the level of everything in the game just gets better. Thile was everywhere with his manolin -- playing filler licks, soloing, supporting other band members -- it was a virtuoso performance. It was exciting seeing him play, and astonishing, because I had no idea that the mandolin could be used in so many different ways, and that it was capable of so many different voices. There was one extended period where Hornsby and Thile played together alone onstage, back and forth, trading licks, calling and answering, building one layer of sound and theme on top of another, just stunning playing, almost overwhelming in its beauty and precision.

I went home that night and could not get the playing of Thile out of my head. Playing the banjo the next day, I still had Thile ringing in my ears. And so, after my banjo practice, I got out my cheap $50 mandolin and looked at it as if for the first time. I strummed a couple of chords I'd learned, and I heard it in a way I hadn't heard it before.  I went to you tube, and I started from the beginning.

I'm still a beginner, but recently I graduated from my fifty dollar Rogue to an Eastman 315.  I do everything very slowly, so just finding the right mandolin after the Rogue took me over a year of trying out different mandolins and listening to sound clips. And now I practice mandolin every day working toward being able to play and solo on 25 songs as a goal for this year. I still play my banjo and tin whistle, but that mandolin gets most of my attention these days.

That's my story. I've learned about other mandolinists since I saw Thile, and really love the work of Mike Marshall and some classical players.  There are so many places to go with the mandolin, and I've got time, so we'll see where this path leads. I know I'll be having fun. But it was Thile who opened my ears to the beauty of the mandolin, and I will be forever grateful.