From the humid, insect-ridden swamps of Florida, Bruno Esposito, also known by the moniker Lone Wolf, has stepped forth as a newcomer to the one-man band scene. With his vigorous banjo playing and gruff vocal delivery, he certainly plays a style of music one might associate with the swamps of the Southeastern United States. But just as his sound is made from the same stuff that made old-timey music great in its day, it also possesses that which makes modern music great. That is to say, it is raw and primitive, earthy and full-of-feeling, indeed the things that many obscure music enthusiasts have come to expect from such singer/songwriters.
Within seconds of first listening to Lone Wolf’s debut self-titled release, it is clear that his sound is built on foot-stompin’ percussion, lightning-fast banjo pickin’, wailin’ harmonica bits, and rust bucket vocals. All thirteen songs are absorbing and well-written compositions, with thoughtful lyrics about the ol’ railroad tracks, women troubles, drinking heavily, the warm drowsy stupor of morphine, the story of a crow, and here and there glimpses into Esposito’s personal life. Two of the songs he sings in Spanish – “El Canto Del Periquito” (which literally translates into “The Singing of the Parakeet”) and “Mala Crianza” (which more or less means “Bad Upbringing,” I think). But what else would one expect from a fella whose early years were spent in Peru and Italy, respectively, who was brought up on old Italian folk songs and such, and who later became involved in the 80s and 90s punk movement. That last was what Bruno did until, wanting to branch out a bit and hearing opportunity knock, he found himself playing double bass for a psychobilly band, which opened up new musical doors for him. The doors to roots music.
In addition to the minimal drum setup he uses, which is little more than a kick drum, Lone Wolf plays his banjo in a rather percussive fashion, thumping his thumb repeatedly against the instrument’s body, sort of the way one would employ a snare for rhythmic punctuation. There are shakers, too, which he cups in his hand as he plays his banjo, and which sound almost like a small handful of buckshot rattling around at the bottom of a plastic cup. Uncommon in the one-man band scene, he has incorporated the use of spoons in his percussion, having fixed them to back of his banjo, between the dowel stick and the head. On his old, raggedy five-string banjo Lone Wolf shreds using the well-known clawhammer (or frailing) technique, sounding something like a punk rock Roscoe Holcomb without the full measure of Holcomb’s “high, lonesome sound,” coupled with Scruggs’ quick-fingered playing, perhaps after a few gulps of mason jar moonshine.
One-man bands that do the whole banjo thing aren’t as rare as some might think. One-man bands who do the whole banjo thing exceptionally well are pretty rare, however, each of them standing out as a credit to the scene in his own way. Phillip Roebuck, The Dad Horse Experience, One Man Banjo, Thee Asthmatic Avenger, Royer’s One-Man Band, and Trainwreck Washington are a few those artists, and now so too is Lone Wolf One Man Band.
Recently I had the opportunity and pleasure of interviewing Bruno Esposito (Lone Wolf One Man Band). He turned out to be a pretty cool and interesting individual. And what follows is the content of that interview in its entirety.
As is usually the case, I would like to begin in an introductory fashion by asking you: Who is Bruno Esposito (aka Lone Wolf One-Man Band), not just as a singer/songwriter but as an individual, as a human being of this vast and crazy world in which we live?
I’ll begin with a brief family background. In the aftermath of WWII, my parents fled from war-torn Italy, as kids with their respective families, and immigrated to Peru, where they met in 1964. They eventually married in 1969 and started a family soon after. I’m the last of four children. Because of political and economic instability in Peru, my father decided to move us all to Miami, Florida in 1978. As with millions of other immigrants, my parents sought the “American Dream” in the good ol’ USA. I was two-years-old when we arrived. With the exception of a brief experience living in Naples, Italy for two years in the mid 1980s, I have lived in Miami for most of my life and consider it my hometown.
What made you choose the one-man band route as opposed to the full band lineup direction?
There are lots of reasons why I chose this direction. For one, I tend to move around a lot. My whole life has been about moving around. If I move, I just take the act with me and there are no letdowns, no commitments.
There’s also more control over things like finances, decisions on gigs, songwriting. There’s no dealing with egos…no bullshit, just me and my music. And I’m free.
Don’t get me wrong, maybe one day the opportunity will come again to form a good band, and I’m not opposed to doing that at all, but at the moment, I couldn’t be happier doing what I’m doing.
