interviewed by David Ensminger
March 2003

Ralph Stanley's high-lonesome, mournful tenor is often and widely hailed as the greatest voice ever to emerge from Appalachia, especially when singing his signature tune "Man Of Constant Sorrow," or his definitive, a cappella version of "Oh Death," the centerpiece of the O Brother, Where Art Thou? soundtrack. Indisputably the elder statesman of old-time bluegrass music, Stanley is one of the most prolific recording artists in American history-initially playing with his older brother Carter as The Stanley Brothers, and later as leader of the Clinch Mountain Boys — performing on more than 170 bluegrass, country, and gospel records over the course of six decades.

You refer to your music as "mountain music" instead of "bluegrass." Why?

I like for it to be mountain music or old-time country music or traditional bluegrass. Either one will fit me. It's traditional, basically.

Were you surprised that six million fans bought the O Brother, Where Art Thou? soundtrack or did you realize there was an audience, and it was just a matter of time before you reached them?

I don't think anybody expected it to do that good, but I am certainly glad that it did. I think it did because of the old-time music. T Bone [Burnett, producer of the soundtrack] and the Coen brothers put it out where people could hear it, and they advertised it. There's probably thousands and thousands of people that hadn't ever heard this type of music before, and when they heard it, they liked it.

Do you think those people will continue to buy your records, or records by other bluegrass artists?

Ah, yeah, they are. When I do a personal appearance, every night I ask for people to raise their hands if it's the first time they have seen my show. Sometimes it will be one third of the audience. Well, that's new people that I have picked up, and there's also the old audience that I have had for years.

Would you describe the bluegrass festival circuit as a family unto itself?

Yeah, this Down From the Mountain tour (featuring a host of roots music artists) was just like a family. All the people were nice and cooperating and helped each other. It was actually more homey-like than festivals, really. Everybody was just for each other.

Did that suggest to you that even in 2003, when people can be a little bit cynical and jaded about the music industry, there are still really good people in the business?

Yeah, that's right. They's good people and all the music is good. Well, there's some that's bad out there, I guess. And some, well I don't know. I better not judge that [laughs].

Was it a difficult decision to leave Rebel Records after 30 years and record for a new, yet unproven label funded by the Coen brothers?

No, I was pretty anxious to try something new, and I think it has helped me in a way. Like I said, it's gotten me a lot of fans. The soundtrack of O Brother... is the most publicity I've gotten.... I don't feel that I have lost any of my old fans, but I have gained new ones.

Over the past several years, you've worked with a lot of younger artists, from Patty Loveless to Dwight Yoakam. How do know when you can trust the musical sensibilities of artists who are sometimes 30 to 40 years younger than you?

Well, I don't let anyone record with me that is not a fan of mine or believe in my music. Everybody that records for me, from Bob Dylan on down to George Jones, everybody loves me and my music, and I knew they would do their best that they could do, and they did. I didn't doubt them a bit. There's some country people that I wouldn't want, which didn't record with me.

Your press statement says that your material is original, unlike Bill Monroe. Can you clarify what that statement is supposed to suggest, because I just saw you on the Bill Monroe PBS special and obviously you are a fan.

Well, a lot of Bill's sound and the Stanleys' sound is different. Whatever I said about Bill, he's the greatest in my book. But his style is still different than Stanley music.

But how would you describe that difference to a person who might not be a diehard bluegrass fan?

Bill's music was a little more polished. Ours is just a little rougher than Bill's, not as smooth, just really down to earth, in the mountains.

Would you say the difference is that Bill Monroe did not grow up in Appalachia?

I'd say that Bill Monroe, the Stanley Brothers, and me have just about the same fans. It all together was good. But I don't sound like Bill Monroe and he didn't sound like me. He was the greatest, I think, but we didn't sound alike.

Didn't Bill Monroe leave Columbia records because he felt the Stanleys were copying his sound?

Well, he told Columbia that if they signed the Stanley brothers, he would resign, which he did, yeah.... But that didn't last long. We was the greatest of friends. We got together and I recorded with him, and Bill recorded with me. I don't have anything but good things to say about Bill Monroe.

Is your picking style something you learned from your mother?

No, she just played the old clawhammer banjo. I didn't get much from her. That's all I learned from her was that. It's just a style that god gave the Stanley Brothers and me. I can't explain it. It's just natural.

Speaking of god, you went to a church where instruments were not allowed. Were they considered too sinful to be in the church?

I joined that church and was baptized and they buy every record that I make, but they don't want it in church.

You were firmly in the mainstream right after WWII, then rock-n-roll came in and quickly supplanted bluegrass, just like bluegrass had for a time supplanted country music. Were you ever tempted to switch styles?

I would have quit before I went rock-n-roll. I know one way, and that's natural, and when I can't make it, I'll come home and stay. I believe in my music.

In the early 1970s, when hot artists with new licks and drum sets forged a style called New Grass and tried to widen the bluegrass tent, you stuck even more firmly with tradition?

I stayed just the way I started. All that new stuff that they put out...that's the reason I say that I don't know what bluegrass is. When I think of bluegrass, I think of Bill Monroe and traditional. Well, Bill's a traditional guy, but we're just a little further back.

Your nickname for Ralph Stanley II [his only son] is "Two." How did you know when he was ready to take up a front spot in your band?

Well, I could tell by the way he goes over with the crowd, the way they buy his records. I could tell, just the way when I hired Ricky Skaggs and Keith Whitley. I hired them at 16 years old. I saw potential, I saw a future in that, just like I see it in Ralph. I believe I am qualified to know to do that.

Did he really begin as early as six and seven?

Oh yeah, he recorded a tape with me when he was three.

And now you have a young grandson who is following in the same footsteps?

Yeah, he's ten. He's playing a mandolin now. He started out playing the spoons.

Your self-titled solo record for the Coen Brothers' DMZ label was recorded the old-fashioned way with T Bone Burnett, with minimal overdubs and everybody basically singing in the same room. Was the new record you recorded with Jim Lauderdale [Lost In The Lonesome Pines, Dualtone Records] made in the old style or with new, computerized cut-and-paste technology?

We did the Jim Lauderdale record the new way.

When you listen to the records, which sound do you prefer?

You know, I enjoy both. I can do with either one. Of course, I am used to doing it this [older] way, but I like both.

After 170 records and 150 shows a year, are you completely at ease with the recording process?

Yeah, just as much at ease as I am doing a show or something. Yeah, I don't pay any attention to it. I do the best I can with it, you know. That's the way I do whatever I do.

Nothing surprises you in the studio?

No, not really.

How important was it for Lauderdale to come to Virginia to record?

All me and my band live close to the studio here, that's the reason. We've been recording at the same studio for several years and it was much easier for us to do, so I thought that Jim could come from Nashville up here better than us all could go down there.

He had actually been an honorary Clinch Mountain boy in 1998, when Ralph II was ill.

Yeah, I believe it was then.

You've had experience with Lauderdale off and on over the years?

Well, that's our second project. We recorded one before that (I Feel Like Singing Today, Rebel Records) and it did good, and he wanted to do another. Of course, it was nominated for a Grammy too, but it didn't win, so he wanted to do another one. I think [Lost In The Lonesome Pines] is a better one, and I reckon he thinks so too. He thought maybe we could win a Grammy with it, which we did.

Did you know he had actually gone to Nashville in 1979 to get a bluegrass recording contract?

I knew he liked bluegrass. I understood that he went down there as a writer. He's a good songwriter.

Your self-titled album for DMZ as well as O Brother concentrate on older material. Does it ever concern you that people focus on Stanley Brothers material and not much at all from your '60s, '70s, and '80s solo music?

Well, with that old material, you see, I went back farther than me and my brother or anything that I had ever done. I went back farther.

Why do you think people are so interested in the oldest material? Why did T Bone insist on it?

Well, he just wanted me to try a different sound. Of course, the O Brother soundtrack did so good and it was all old-time music, like "O Death," "Man Of Constant Sorrow." All that was old-time music.

Speaking of T Bone, he said you are enjoying yourself like crazy, driving around with sunglasses and a black leather jacket in a Jaguar. Is he exaggerating?

Well, I drive a Jaguar sometimes. I've always enjoyed, for several years, driving around like that.

In the next five years, do you see yourself as busy as you've been the last five years, or slowing down?

I'm cutting down by about half on my personal appearances, and I've signed with Columbia records to do six CDs, so I'll do that, and I guess that'll probably be all that I do, if I can do that much, you know? You never know at my age.

What do you want people to remember most about you?

Well, I would want them to remember that I respected what I do and believed putting on nothing and doing it natural, which I've done for 56 years, and I believe that's why I am around today. There's not too many people that stay in that long. I'm just down to earth with it and believe in nothing fancy.

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