Photo by Robin Frenette
Youth Ambassador Joselyn Sky talks with Peter Rowan
In this series, Joselyn explores what it takes to make the leap from campground picker to professional performer. In this installment, we hear from Peter Rowan, whose many accolades as a multi-instrumentalist songwriter and bandleader include being a former member of Bill Monroe’s Blue Grass Boys, Grammy winner and seven-time nominee, and member of the Bluegrass Hall of Fame.
What do you remember about your first tour and what have you learned about touring since then?
When I first started playing, the only touring we did was to go out and play teenage dances in Boston in the ‘50s. I had a little band called The Cupids, and we had three electric guitars, bass, drums, and we sang in harmony like the Crickets and Buddy Holly … We weren’t touring per se, night after night. I didn’t start really touring until I went to work with Bill Monroe as a Blue Grass Boy. I think for the first gigs, when our parents used to drive us, I was 12. By 14, we had the band, and by 18, everybody had gone away to college.
But once I was left on my own, I began to go around the Boston area … I traded my electric guitar—which I probably should never have done; it was a ’57 Telecaster. But I got a little mahogany Martin, and I had seen Joan Baez play at a club. I was 15 when I met her, and she was 17, but she was beginning to skyrocket. But she came out and she sang with us on the sidewalk.
My touring was just local, but it was changing everything musically for me because I was hearing blues players like Sonny Terry and Brownie McGee and Lightning Hopkins. And then I heard bluegrass and I discovered the Hillbilly Ranch …
So Bill Monroe came up and Bill Keith, the banjo player, put a band together and then we did a tour … It was all very new to me, to not go home at night after the show. What I remember about it is, I had the sense that we were now just living the music. We were full-time. And, that is the truth. When you hit the road, you enter a different world where your relationship to music is 24/7.
What was it like working with Bill Monroe?
I was working playing mandolin in my friend Bill Keith’s band. Because of my relationship with him, I got a spot on those shows with Bill Monroe. Then Bill asked me to come to Nashville. So, over the next year-and-a half, I ended up driving to Nashville with Bill Keith and we hung out in town. He had already been a Blue Grass Boy when Del McCoury was playing guitar with Bill [Monroe], so I was the next guy in line.
I had already played some at the Hillbilly Ranch. If I carried my instrument case, they wouldn’t worry about my age. But you’re playing for sailors and their ladies, and that’s where I learned to sing. There are people who are gonna develop their music outside of an audience, but I think
I’ve developed my singing and ability to project my guitar playing because I played at working man’s bars … I felt the challenge of singing through the fog. People coming out to have a few drinks and not really listening … I think I developed my singing playing for country people in country bars.
When Bill Monroe took me to Nashville, I had a kind of seasoning. The first night at the Grand Ole Opry was my audition. I wasn’t in the band, but I had played a few shows with Bill, and I was in Nashville.
On the Grand Ole Opry, they called me the kid. Most of the older players, they were very friendly to me. But you don’t go unnoticed, they said “Bill’s got a new guitar man,” and they all paid attention. When I sang on the Opry the first time, the next weekend I came back and [Bill Monroe] said, “Pete, we’ve gotten a lot of calls and a lot of letters. The people say you sound good. That’s a good thing. They also say you sound a little bit like me, that’s not a good thing.”
The first thing he said every time we got on the bus was “Have you got your route figured?” He gave us a lot of responsibility. I was only 22, I had to grow up fast and really step up … My first time being the road manager, Bill just looked at me and said, “Pete, go get the money.” And I go, “Uh, I’m here to get the money.” This was some country folk down in Georgia. He said, “Well, Pete Rowan, we just don’t have the money. That Bill Monroe, he’s just going to have to wait.” I went back to the bus, and I think they were just having fun with me. I went to the bus and I said, “Bill, the man says he doesn’t have the money,” and he said, “Now you go right back there and you get that money from him. Pete, you tell him that Bill Monroe said so.” And I think it was a test. Then I went back in and I’m standing there—I’m 22 years old in a suit and a straw cowboy hat, with some kind of plastic beetle boots on that are falling apart. I said, “Bill Monroe says, ‘pay him the money,’” and the guy pulls out the money and pays me. It was like, “wow, that was easy.” I think they had worked it out to test me or something, you know? So you got to do those things too on the road.
What is your pre-show routine?
I warm up on the guitar, and I do some vocal exercises that don’t require you to sing. Stretching your neck and opening your voice box, like if you yawn. It takes about 30 seconds, and then your voice opens.
I’ll tell you an interesting story of when I learned to prepare to go on stage with Bill Monroe. We would be in the dressing room, and we’d all take our instruments out. I had been in tune, because Bill would walk up to me and start hitting that E string on the mandolin, then I’d play the high E string on the guitar, because they had to match. What’s really interesting is how the music came out of tuning the instruments … We didn’t have digital tuners, so you had to tune by ear and with a tuning fork. Each instrument had to be in tune with itself. The fiddle player might adjust his note to match Bill’s note, but he knew that his second string was never gonna be in tune with Bill’s second string. Every instrument had its own adjustment, but it took about four or five minutes to do all this tuning. So that tuning was the warm-up.
What do you think are some of the benefits of working with record labels or not?
The advantage of a label is this: if they pay you back for the money you’ve invested in your work, then they own it. You don’t want the money back, but you want distribution, they don’t have any incentive financially to do much with the record. They send out 300 to the 300 dedicated disk jockeys at stations all over the country. So that’s helpful; that’s promotion. Then when you get a festival that’s a thousand miles away, you can call these radio stations, and make radio appearances around that show.
In hindsight, is there anything you wish you had done differently with your career?
I wish I had been a little braver when I was working with Tony Rice. He was a master, and he would take these solos, and then he’d turn to me and yell, “Go wild man!” I like long notes and tone … I’m not really a flat picker or a fast picker. I like a good medium tempo, and I do like playing leads. But when Tony Rice says, “Go wild,” I was like, “What?!” Because he was the master … whatever songs I would bring to him, he would just play the heck out of it.
I’ve just finished a memoir about my days with Bill Monroe and playing with Jerry Garcia. It’s 300 pages, I could have just said it was awesome … Somehow, you end up living it. If you sing a song, you’ve got to believe in the song. What Bill Monroe said was, “Pete, you’ve got to love the music, so the people will love it as well.”
What is your process like recording an album and how would you advise a young musician to go about doing it?
I find the most difficult thing is, how do you judge when it’s good enough? It’s hard to produce yourself. You need somebody to be there and go, “That’s just fine” because you’re thinking “Five more tries and I’ll get it”…
I asked Jerry, “How do you know when it’s a good performance?” He said, “When your guitar picking and your voice start playing with each other.”
What’s the first thing that comes to your mind as a piece of advice for someone looking to make a career as a performing musician?
Well, we have a joke—the answer to that question is: Don’t.
I always say you’ve got to put in your hours … If music gives you joy, that’s really what it’s all about. You feel that inspiration, but why sing for others? Well, because everything from the campfire to the concert stage is reaching out to other people … My advice: get on the bandstand and do it. Sing and play, if you can find a bandstand.
