Wayne Erbsen
A review of his Clawhammer Banjo for the Complete Ignoramus and Rural Roots of Bluegrass

When Wayne Erbsen accepted a teaching position at Central Piedmont Community College in 1973, he couldn't wait to immerse himself in the culture of what he believed to be the hotbed of traditional music in America. Charlotte, North Carolina, was the place where the Carter Family had made some of their most important recordings, and was home to WBT, the radio station that once featured the likes of Snuffy Jenkins, The Blue Sky Boys, and the Monroe Brothers. Charlotte was quite simply the historic centre of old time music, and would no doubt be the place to find that music. Or so he thought.

As it turned out, rather than finding old time musicians playing on every corner, Erbsen didn't find much of anything, and ended up in the strange position of actually teaching the music he had come to learn. Since returning to his home in California was not an option, he decided to seek out the old musicians who still lived in the area - including Charlie Monroe, Tommy Jerrill, Kyle Creed, Albert Hash, Jim Shumate and Jimmy Buchanan - bringing what he learned to his own students at the college.

Clawhammer Banjo for the Complete Ignoramus is actually the 30th anniversary edition (and rewrite) of a booklet Erbsen originally compiled for his students, and which eventually became the foundation stone of Native Ground Music, Erbsen's own little publishing empire in the mountains. I had first been exposed to Wayne Erbsen through his Southern Mountain tablature series (written for mandolin, banjo, guitar, fiddle, dobro, and dulcimer), and was trying to figure out how to play clawhammer banjo when a review copy of the 30th anniversary edition of the Complete Ignoramus and its accompanying instructional CD arrived in the mail. Fitting the bill perfectly, I decided to put the book to the test by using it to learn the clawhammer style.

Like old time fiddlers, clawhammer players are a special breed and, as Wayne Erbsen makes clear throughout his book, there really isn't much set in stone besides a few basic techniques. Using sometimes very odd tunings to achieve different effects, there is something very ancient, and almost universal, about clawhammer music. Sometimes the sound might be reminiscent of an Indian raga, and other times it might sound like something North African. Other times it sounds just like a good old hoedown, played hard with that characteristic shucking sound. Sometimes it can even sound elegant.

Clawhammer is a primarily melodic and rhythmic style of playing, with much of the fancy work done by hammering-on and pulling-off with the fretting hand, rather than the more common bluegrass approach of picking arpeggiated chord formations in different roll patterns. Though it is debated where the term clawhammer originated, if you look at most players of this style of banjo you will notice that their long nails lend their "strumming" hand a somewhat claw-like appearance. Rather than picking the strings with these nails, the hand is held as if loosely grasping the handle of a broom (thumb up, so it can land on the shorter fifth string), and the backs of the nails are struck down upon the strings in an almost perpendicular "hammering" motion.

Mastering and controlling this technique is one of the more difficult aspects of the clawhammer style, and I found Erbsen's descriptions invaluable. The basic clawhammer lick consists of striking a melody note with the nail of either your index or middle finger, then following this by "brushing" the bottom three strings with the back of your fingernails and, immediately afterwards, sounding the high fifth string with your thumb. The aim is to do all this in a rhythmic pattern that Erbsen likens to tick tock-a, where "tick" represents the melody note, "tock" the brush, and "a" the sounding of the fifth string. By adding hammer-ons and pull-offs to the melody portion, or by dropping your thumb from the fifth string and hitting an additional melodic note, you can achieve a more complex sound, alternating between the basic tick tock-a and a more complex tick-a tock-a pattern. Once this is mastered, there are numerous other tricks that can be used to enhance your personal sound.

If this sounds difficult, don't fret. Erbsen has arranged a number of standard old time songs for the new player to work through, explaining new techniques as they are introduced. Along with the accompanying CD, which includes both a breakdown of the basic melody for each song and a nice slow version to play along with, this is a successful introduction to the clawhammer style, and an excellent stepping-stone to the more complex melodies presented in Erbsen's Southern Mountain Banjo.

After working through these books, or if clawhammer banjo isn't your thing, you might want to pick up a copy of Erbsen's other recent book, Rural Roots of Bluegrass, which I would recommend to anyone with an interest in bluegrass music, or who wants a general reference guide for lyrics and melodies to some of the tradition's most well known songs. Well researched and extensive without being academic, this is a unique history that integrates over 90 traditional songs that have made their way into the bluegrass repertoire, with information on the development of this genre, music theory specific to bluegrass, and profiles of musicians who have historically contributed to this style of music, from the Coon Creek Girls to good old Earl.

Each song page includes lyrics, melody in standard notation, chords in the most common key, and an historical introduction with notes on when the song was first recorded and who made it most popular. Interspersed throughout are over 100 vintage photographs that alone make the book worthwhile. And some of the information is precious. For example, "Man of Constant Sorrow" (originally titled "Farewell Son") was written by a Kentucky-born, blind street singer named Dick Burnett who lost his sight in 1907 when he was robbed and shot in the face. To earn money for his wife and children, he tied a tin cup to his leg and took to the streets with a banjo and a fiddle, eventually producing a little songbook. Burnett's neighbour, Emry Arthur, was the first to record "Man of Constant Sorrow" in 1928, a tune that Ralph Stanley later learned from his father. Though a CD is available to accompany Rural Roots, it may be more interesting to seek out the old recordings mentioned throughout the book.

Thanks must go out to Wayne Erbsen for all his hard work in keeping these traditions alive.