Questions by Stephen Pitalo
Images by Chris Bachler
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The Storytellers have been called everything from “jamgrass” to “Deadgrass” to “folkgrass.” How do you define your own musical identity, and why do you think listeners and promoters alike find it so hard to put you in a box?
We wish we didn’t have to categorize our music, but I understand why we do because we live in a category culture. If the word “grass” is in there, we’re pleased. Everyone in the band has come together from different backgrounds. Me and Scott, our guitarist, we were playing folk music. Steven, our percussionist, was steeped in Rock & Roll music. Tyler, our fiddler, plays everything, but jazz and gypsy jazz is his thing. Dave, our banjoist, has been playing bluegrass and Irish music for a long time as has Ethan, our mandolin player. So we’ve all come together with these disparate styles and experience and we’re creating a sound that doesn’t lend itself easily to being put into a box. As far as the soloists go, their style of playing has influenced everyone else’s. Tyler has made Dave more Jazzy, so we’re creating “Jazzgrass”! The Deadhead contingent of the band – me and Scott – has influenced everyone to become much freer and more experimental. Ethan was a Santa Cruz hippie in his early days, so his mandolin playing is very colorful and free-form. When we started, we were a jam band. Dave was really the impetus for us moving towards a bluegrassier style. He credits his time in the band for changing how he plays and understands banjo. We consider ourselves to be progressive bluegrass. If we had to choose a label, we like “gateway grass”. We see ourselves as a gateway to traditional bluegrass. We’ve been performing at a lot of bluegrass festivals, so we’re extremely pleased that at least some part of the bluegrass intelligentsia recognizes our music as being in the realm of bluegrass. We’re still working to convince the ones who don’t. It may take some time.***
You’ve described your audience as co-creators of the live experience—Storytellers in their own right. How does that sense of shared storytelling shape your setlists or how you approach performing from night to night?
Our audience is inextricably connected, on and off stage, to everything we do. We’re audience-conscious. We’ve conditioned ourselves since the beginning to be aware of them, to bring them into the experience, to make sure they recognize that they’re affecting what’s happening during a show. Designing a setlist for us is part of the storytelling. From start to finish, depending on the nature of the concert, there’s a larger story being told, broken up by the smaller stories that comprise the songs.
We’re also present and paying attention to what’s happening in the audience. We’ll make changes to the setlist on the fly depending on the energetic feedback we’re receiving from them. We’ve planned grassy, folky set lists, like for Calico Ghost Town, and twenty minutes before the show, there’s a bunch of tie dye shirts in the audience! They’re there to dance and they won’t be satiated with three-minute songs, so it becomes about longer, stranger jams. You know, bring out The Dead! So we’ll abandon an entire setlist if we must. We’re here to please the audience. That’s our only agenda.
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Your forthcoming album “Blossoming Saguaros” is both a reflection of where you’ve been and a leap toward original songwriting. What has the process of writing and arranging your own material revealed about the band that maybe you didn’t know before?
Deciding to write our own material has been the single most important decision we’ve ever made. Thank you to our publisher, Lynne Robin Green, for that. She challenged us to do it and it’s been rewarding in ways that’s hard to articulate. It’s rich with depth and love largely due to the way we’re going about the process. It’s truly a band effort. Everyone is contributing at high levels. There are no songwriters or “he did the lyrics” and “he wrote the music”. It’s evolving organically like the band did. When the album comes out, the original songs are going to be credited as written by The Storytellers.
The songs we’re writing all have to do with love and presence and realizations and spiritual revelation told through stories because those things have been the underlying stream by which this band has flowed and continues to flow. Keep egos in control. Focus on our own contributions. Treat everyone with equal respect. Get rid of any notion of anyone leading the band or anyone being more important than anyone else. Focus on respect and gratitude. What all of this has revealed is that we’re all on the same page as far as being on a path towards personal growth and greater understanding of what it means to be human, which are the themes that folk and bluegrass explore.
Even more profoundly, it’s been revealing in the sense that we all appreciate the talents and insights of each other in ways we couldn’t have appreciated before playing other people’s songs. We appreciate more than ever how a single chord change can significantly affect the musical story. We’re trying to create fine art, so the devil is in the details. The small, fine adjustments to lyrics and the chords are where we really get to the essence of the song.
For instance, one of our songs, “In the Blink of An Eye” explores the reality of passing time and the need to not squander it. The message of the lyrics is one of urgency to be awake and aware. When the extraordinary music was written around the lyrics, the sense of urgency increased but in a deeply beautiful, loving and compassionate way. When you have five guys working together on these fine details, there’s more love and greater admiration for each other as people as well as what we all bring to the table. That love is going to be infused into the songs and the album.
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You speak often about harmony—not just vocally, but emotionally and spiritually within the group. What practical steps do you take as a band to protect that rare sense of unity and creativity, especially when the industry tends to pull in so many directions?
Once it was established over time that everyone in the band was seeing our little group as something very special, there was a shift. Everything and everyone are in a state of improvement and evolution. Our shared desire is for The Storytellers experience to be a high-quality, fine experience all around. Everyone understands now that the nature of anything fine is that it’s fragile. It can break easily. It must be handled with care. Over time a sort-of code of conduct has developed around that shared understanding. We hug each other when we see each other. We hug when we leave. We share meals together. We consciously make sure to say kind things to each other. We make sure everyone feels recognized and appreciated in our social media channels. We start rehearsals by asking everyone about their families and spouses and jobs. We’ve removed certain elements that bring risk to the peace, like no alcohol or drugs when we’re working. The key has been creating a conscious and mindful mindset to what we’re doing individually and together. I don’t know what happens when we scatter to the winds, but I do know that every time we’re all together, everyone is on their very best behavior. Nobody wants this fragile, beautiful thing to crack. We’re all recognizing that The Storytellers doesn’t become more solid as we go on. It becomes more fragile. None of us wants to be the person who doesn’t realize how fragile love is until they’ve broken it.
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There’s a deeply reflective quality to how The Storytellers view music’s role in society, especially your belief that creating is richer than consuming. How does that philosophy influence how you approach rehearsals, live shows, and even your social media presence?
Scott and I founded the band on trying to answer the question of which, between creating or consuming culture, is a richer experience. We’ve created our online community to encourage our members to use our posts as a creative outlet. We encourage participation and sharing of insights and humor. We have endeavored to not make the community about us. We’re not leaders. Our community are not followers. We’re all in this together co-creating the community. We encourage people to tell stories. We’ve been committed to interacting with everyone. At very least we’ll acknowledge every comment, every share. Sometimes we’ll ask for follow-ups. It’s a big commitment. At some point we won’t be able to do that, so we’re really enjoying it while we can.
Over the past 16 months, we’ve averaged almost one thousand new Facebook followers per month! That is a huge achievement. I think the reason for that is because we provide people a voice. We create posts that are based on our “brand” so to speak, which is peace, love, cool music, cool art, progressive ideas, and spirituality. We do this to cast a wide net to build a community based on shared commonalities and understandings. Those people have flocked to the community. It isn’t about us. We’re only a part of it. The people participating are a part of it.
“Our shared desire is for The Storytellers experience to be a high-quality, fine experience all around. Everyone understands now that the nature of anything fine is that it’s fragile. It can break easily. It must be handled with care.”
At this point, the online community almost exists independent of the band, outside of the music. If the band stopped, if the music stopped, the online page could keep going on without missing much of a beat. The goals are the same between the social media and our music. We’re trying to promote good ideas and good thoughts, but we’re more directly soliciting the community’s participation. On our channels we’ll openly and unabashedly challenge people to learn to play instruments and explore that experience. Not just playing instruments, but singing, dancing, painting, writing.
Creating is where it’s at. We all consume too. The answer to the question of which is healthier lies in the balance between the two. Generally speaking, there are much too many consumers of culture and not enough creators. People have been disempowered by the cultural engineers to think that they cannot do what people on the stage are doing or what people on TV are doing and that’s just false. The people who are typically on stage want audiences to believe that the experience of performing is out of their reach. We reject that notion too. We want to be what inspires our community to create, to learn music, to tell a joke, to widen their own experience. We’re all connected, and we all benefit when people become more creative, more disciplined and more joyful from the act of creating art.
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You’ve described picking up the bass as part of a larger philosophical experiment about creation versus consumption. Looking back, how has that experiment shaped your identity not just as a musician, but as a person?
I have taken this notion very seriously. The experiment changed the way I live. I used to be very much into popular culture. I was very into celebrity worship like so many people are, whether it’s musicians or actors or athletes and even politicians. The premise of the experiment helped me and Scott and this other fella, Michael, who was the first fiddle player, to start the band, but everything that has happened since then has reinforced the conclusion.
“Those who are on stage want audiences to believe that the experience of performing is out of their reach. We reject that notion. We want to be what inspires our community to create, to learn music, to widen their own experience. We’re all connected, and we all benefit when people become more creative, more disciplined and more joyful from the act of creating art.”
To make this band happen, I can’t spend time caring about what Billy Strings is doing, or Brad Pitt or Gavin Newsome or LeBron James … I had to look up that last one! There isn’t enough time! I don’t want to spend my life watching other people live their lives. Life is precious. Don’t be passive. Be active. Do. Act! That realization continues to drive me to invest in my own creativity and ability. The Storytellers couldn’t have happened, let alone achieve any level of success, if I was focused on what other people are doing with their lives. Nobody has ever achieved any level of success watching other people be successful. It’s that basic.
So now I’m creating. I learned this secret that really isn’t a secret. Now I’m performing in front of people.
I’m in lots of photos and videos and I’m doing this interview. Knowing this truth about acting versus being passive, is the only thing that separates me from people watching and consuming. It’s humbling. What it’s done is kept me down-to-earth. It’s kept my ego in check. I want what I create to move people and to inspire them, but I’m not interested in being a celebrity or anyone thinking I’m doing something that they cannot do. I want the opposite. I hope I can inspire people to be more creative for the simple sake of it. That’s what I’m trying to do. Music is the way I’m doing it.
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You’ve mentioned the audience is just as responsible for the magic of a Storytellers show as the band is. What’s one moment from a live performance where you felt that shared energy most vividly?
Magic is real and I don’t use the word lightly. If I had to choose the perfect moment of shared energy, it would be the last time we performed at Treasure Island Resort in Las Vegas. We did 25 shows there before it ended. We didn’t know the last show would be our last. We thought we’d perform 50 more shows. We always had the largest draw of all the bluegrass bands that performed there. We’d sound checked and were waiting for the show and then all the sudden, people started showing up. Not just people. These were folks who traveled from Los Angeles where the band was based. People who weren’t acquainted with each other. One couple came all the way from New York to see our show. Some of our hardcore “fans” – I hate that word – and family members showed up from all over California. It was as if someone who knew all these people contacted them and said, “Hey, this is the last concert at Treasure Island! Let’s all go there and create an incredible high energy party! Let’s make this memorable for us and the band.”
Well, they inspired us to perform at our highest level as a band and as individual members. On the last song, “Wagon Wheel”, we utilized our wireless setup to go out and dance with the audience, as we often do, but this was extra special. Things were all sparkly. It was captured on video. It was the never-ending jam. Somehow there was this sense that this was it for Las Vegas. Nobody wanted it to end. I sure didn’t. It was positively joyous and memorable. A week later some local bluegrass guy took over booking and ended our residency. To his mind, we weren’t bluegrass enough for the bluegrass series. The series ended soon after. That video is on our YouTube and Facebook channels. I’ll never forget that moment as long as I live.
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As the band’s bassist—and a self-described disciple of the recently-departed Phil Lesh — how do you balance driving the rhythm section while also contributing to the improvisational, almost psychedelic aspect of your jamgrass sound?
If I’ve ever said my name and Phil Lesh’s name in the same sentence, I’m embarrassed to have done so! I only started playing bass so that I could play in The Storytellers. When I started out, I wanted to play like Paul McCartney, with beautiful melodic bass lines so that’s what I did. In the beginning our music was highly arranged, so I could play that way. When the band started to evolve into more of a jam band, I was already heavily into the Grateful Dead and listening primarily to Phil. I don’t have those kinds of chops. Not even one percent of what Phil had. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t try! That all changed at this gig where the musician John Kruth showed up to see the show. He’s sort of a famous East coast folk musician. Well, after the show, he ripped my performance apart. He was kind about it, but it was hardcore. He was saying, “you’re not honoring the changes and how is anyone supposed to follow what you’re doing? You don’t exist in a vacuum. There are other musicians on stage!” I had no idea what he was talking about. I just didn’t have the experience and training at that time.
None of the band members gave me that feedback because I think they were just being kind and accepting of what I was doing at that time. They knew I wanted to be a psychedelic player. There was also an implied “keep it to yourself” policy on criticism of what other people are doing. It wasn’t until I started delving into bluegrass and Old & In the Way that I saw the value in performing more basic patterns because while it sounds easy to the ear, like everything, it’s challenging to play correctly and soulfully. So I’ve really reined in my wild improvisations for the tried-and-true patterns and forms that make the music sound like bluegrass. I get excited when we do long jammy Grateful Dead covers like “Fire On the Mountain” and “Franklin’s Tower” so I can Lesh up a storm. Jazzy and truly improvised bass playing is good for my soul, but I value the discipline that shapes and patterns bring when executed the right way.
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You’ve spoken about the importance of health and discipline in the band’s creative process. How do you personally maintain that alignment—physically, mentally, and spiritually—when you’re deep in a performance or writing phase?
For me, physical, mental and spiritual health are all inextricably intertwined. With the crazy quality of modernity, it’s hard for all of us to maintain a healthy alignment. We all have jobs. We all have families. We all have robust lives outside of The Storytellers. On my personal social channels, I mostly post about my dog, health and fitness, spirituality, food, and gardening. I’ve had people pointedly ask, “Do you ever practice?” Having that life away from the band is vital for coming back to the band and contributing at a high level. I know Scott says he gets most of his song ideas when he’s exercising. I’ve been inspired with lyrics while transplanting cactuses in the garden. So for me, it’s all about achieving balance and giving all parts of life, especially my loved ones, the time and attention they deserve. Whatever creates joy outside the band is going to contribute in a positive way to performances, rehearsals and writing.
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The Storytellers clearly put intention behind everything—arrangements, harmonies, even gear choices. What’s something behind-the-scenes about your personal musical setup or practice routine that fans might not know but plays a big role in your sound?
We are very intentional. We want to be that way. There’s this misunderstanding – one I certainly held – that spontaneity has a higher quality than intentional. I’m always blown away by the quality and nature of the improvisations of my bandmates, because everything else about the band, our marketing, our social media – everything – is highly structured and planned. That’s due to the positive influence of our mentor Bob Stane, who is a legendary folk music promoter who took us under his wing and showed us how to be a disciplined act rather than just a band. He helped create all the great folk bands like the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band and the New Christy Minstrels, and he said, “What worked then will work for you,” meaning, be classy and tight.
I have to admit, there was resistance to all of that initially, from me and the band. Bob used the word “costumes” while urging us to “dress for success”. Everyone was like, hey, we’re cool hippies, man! I did a lot of acting before the Storytellers, so I wasn’t as repelled as the rest of the band to creating a look. Bob would say, “Be in show business, not the music business.” So over the years, I’ve become the costume designer. I’ve done the purchasing of shirts. I’ve done the purchasing of some hats. I’ve been the fashion police of the band. I’ll tell the band to wear lighter colors for a particular gig, and darker, more colorful shirts for a different gig.
We have lots of jokes we use on stage that have become time tested. That’s Bob Stane too. He said, “Anytime you hear something funny, write it down.” I do that routinely. When we say something in the moment that draws laughter, we’ll remember to do it again, because people love to laugh. So do we!
We’ve gotten good at making everything we do seem extemporaneous, but outside the brilliant playing of our soloists, we’re highly organized and arranged. Everyone in the band has embraced all those changes because it’s helped us to become more successful. We’re seeing smiling faces in the audience. They’re coming to get away from the craziness of life and to share a moment of community, music, dance, laughter, love, and harmony. For me, for all of us, the more of all of that, the better.
