Episode 275 of The String begins with an ode to the studio and stage musicians who come up with parts and make the singers and stars sound great, while being relegated to the sexist, ungenerous title of “sidemen.” I’ve always had my eyes and ears on them as a music fan, and as a journalist, I know they are often untapped wells of stories and insights. Recently, I got to thinking about a musician - a bass player - who’s been on more big sessions and done time with more impactful artists than most in roots/Americana music over the past 35 years. So I invited Byron House on to the program.
In this show, you’ll hear Byron’s bass snapping time behind the (Dixie) Chicks on the game-changing Home album, churning away with Robert Plant’s Band Of Joy and laying down a spare and funky line with Chris Thile. House has also toured with Plant’s all-star band, as well as Nickel Creek, the Sam Bush Band, Ricky Skaggs, Emmylou Harris and Rodney Crowell, and the 80s country breakout duo Foster & Lloyd.
Asked about the threads that may run through those gigs and what story they tell, House with understatement calls them “talented singers and songwriters, largely a little out of the main-est of the mainstream. And, you know, kind of folky with a little bit of grassy and tiny bit of jazz and yeah, you know, a little bit of rock. Some of them (like Plant), I was a great fan of growing up.”
It’s what every instrumentalist who takes this path wants to work on - quality and variety and integrity. And such artists keep calling Byron because he’s keenly attuned to what each song needs and doesn’t need. He’s inventive, but not overbearing, and understated without being dull. Keyboard maestro Jeff Taylor (of The Time Jumpers, etc.) likens his creative approach to Leland Sklar, the legendary Los Angeles session bassist who was on most of the hit music emerging from the Laurel Canyon/Troubadour scene of the 1970s. “There’s something about his approach to the instrument,” Taylor says about House in a Facebook video. “He’s been my first call for like 20 years.”
“The bass, it carries a lot of power and a lot of responsibility,” says House. “Because all the things that happen harmonically are going to be in some sense defined by what bass note is there. Your ear will use that note to analyze, is this a happy chord? A sad chord?” And his aim, he says, is to bring “something that's maybe a little less expected, just a little different.”
Once I decided to invite Byron on the show, I got to thinking about his history and the ripple effects of his upbringing and college years in Bowling Green, KY. Arriving in Nashville in 1985, House became part of a great migration to Nashville from that inordinately musical place that included bluegrass hall-of-famer Sam Bush, fellow New Grass Revival member John Cowan, powerhouse singer Jonell Mosser, and arch rocker Tommy Womack. The first significant road job of House’s career was touring with his Bowling Green friend Bill Lloyd, as Bill’s duo with Radney Foster took off with their hit “Crazy Over You” in 1987.
Also in that touring band early on was Bowling Green native Kyle Frederick, and I thought it would be interesting to bring him into this conversation. Because while Frederick was a road-dog guitar player for many years, in the past decade, he’s emerged as a formidable singer-songwriter too. His friend Byron House has produced all of his recent albums, including the newest, a solo acoustic set called Silence You Ravens.
“In Bowling Green, (music) was just constant,” Frederick says. “There was music all over the place. It was in the ether. It was down the street. You could open up the door and hear somebody practice. It was unique.”
In that environment, Kyle took up guitar and was a substantial contributor to the local scene by age 14, when he played in a power trio with Bill Lloyd, who was a few years older. He was into prog rock and had no interest in country music. He was eager to move to New York or London, but another Bowling Green friend - future power executive Randy Goodman - coaxed him to town with the prospects of steady work. And Kyle set about mastering country guitar, taking over a job for the master picker Ray Flacke. That was 1980, and he’s been here ever since.
This three-way conversation, held at my studio, is a bit more inside baseball than most, but it’s a window into the Bowling Green to Nashville pipeline and the scrum of bumping from job to job that is the hallmark of hundreds of less celebrated but vital careers in Music City.
