Dawg Music: David Grisman

DawgsPlaying in every important ensemble related to Americana at some point over the last fifty years has made David Grisman owner of a pretty intimidating discography. His earliest recorded moments with the Even Dozen Jug Band counted as an introduction the music biz. But soon, Grisman found his way into the Kentuckians, making his name as a soloist, but equally adept at rhythmic derivations for bluegrass settings.

In that, Grisman came to fully realize his musical intent. And to incorporate jazz improvisation and soloing into the already technically challenging genre of bluegrass would make his life mission pretty clear by the dawning of the '70s.

Having played with Jerry Garcia on the Dead's American Beauty disc from the mid '60s solidified the bond between the two musicians. It wouldn't mark the end of their collaborations either. And after a pretty impressive career leading ensembles, Grisman reunited with the northern Californian symbol of excess to record a series of discs during the '90s that would help further the popularity of traditional American music to a new audience.

With Garcia's name and his own musical acumen, Grisman founded Acoustic disc in 1990 to take care of his publishing needs. It soon became a catch all for new grass players. And today the label is still in the process of disseminating a sound based on old ideas with a new vigor. But before becoming some sort of progressive bluegrass figure head, Grisman recorded a few discs for the jazz arm of A&M during the latter part of the '70s.

The first recording of the David Grisman Quartet - which featured Vassar Clements, Darol Anger, Bill Keith, Tony Rice, Ricky Scaggs and Tony Trischka in various arrangements - was well enough received and served to explicate Grisman's musical desires. Although the disc didn't make any one a sack of money, artistically it signaled a departure from a traditional perception of what bluegrass was. Of course Muleskinner and the New Grass Revival recorded prior to Grisman's effort here, but with the inclusion of a Django Reinhardt and Stephane Grapelli number, the tie to another American art form became clear.

The group's second disc, recorded the following year, followed a similar pattern, but for whatever reason received more mainstream attention. Perhaps due to the appearance by Grapelli himself served to ingratiate this dawg music to jazzbos.

"Minor Swing," a Grapello composition, was re-imagined here in fine fashion with Grisman working, to a certain extent, in a back up role leaving the fiddle player ample room to stretch out. The playful nature of not just this interaction, but on every offering from Hot Dawg reflects the amiable tone of not just the folks gleefully working out these tracks, but the camaraderie felt between this clutch of innovative musicians.

The albums that followed during the '80s found Grisman in various settings with uneven results. That'90s reunion with Garcia, though, seemed to enliven Grisman, his creativity and his lust for playing. So while the '80s may be a lost decade for his albums, the time the bookends it is as entertaining as any other jazzbo's discography.