KING OF THE ROOTS interview by special permission from author Aarik Danielsen and The Columbia Tribune
The Billy Bats
Posted On September 8, 2011
There seems to have been some confusion from my first posting of this but Mr. Danielsen has granted permission as long as we credit his authorship and acknowledge its original appearance in The Columbia Tribune. Thanks.
‘King of the Roots’ ready to rock Roots ‘N Blues
By Aarik Danielsen
Posted September 6, 2011 at 8:51 a.m.
Authentic. Underrated. Hard working. Those words might used to describe each of the area acts who faced off earlier this summer to be crowned “King of the Roots” by the Roots ‘N Blues ‘N BBQ Festival. Four bands each participated in four regional showdowns – held in Kansas City, St. Louis, Springfield and here in Columbia – before the final four squared off at The Blue Note with the title hanging in the balance.
Jason Vivone and The Billy Bats, a Kansas City-area band and the KC regional winner, took him the hardware and earned themselves a main stage slot at this weekend’s festival. Vivone is celebrated around the Kansas City area for his abilities on a variety of instruments and capacity to integrate a number of musical styles into one soulful brew. Taking the same stage that will, later on Saturday, house the likes of David Wax Museum, Robert Cray and Fitz & the Tantrums, should shine a brighter light on Vivone and his talented band. In a from-the-heart email exchange, Vivone waxes passionately about the momentum his band is experiencing, how his sound is a festival unto itself and chance encounters with Roots ‘N Blues headliners.
Tribune: First off, take me through what the last few weeks have been like. What prompted you to enter King of the Roots in the first place? After winning the local showcase, did you have any sense you could take home the overall crown? What have you heard back from judges/fans as far as what set you apart in their minds?
Vivone: A friend of mine in Columbia, ex-bandmate Thomas Rose said, “You guys are King of the Roots if I ever heard one,” and insisted we sign up. Then I checked out the Roots and Blues and BBQ website and was blown away. I didn’t know if we would win overall. We’ve truly become fans of the other bands in the competition. We checked out their tunes online and figured we’d just do our best and see. People say we throw a party onstage.
Tribune: This win and festival appearance are just another step forward in what’s been an important year for this band. Certainly, musicians need to experience a certain amount of hunger and drive to keep going, but I’m sure the reassurance helps, too. To what do you credit the momentum, and what’s been the highlight of your year so far? How have you balanced pursuing success yet also pursuing a healthy sense of artistic dissatisfaction?
Vivone: Momentum has a lot to do with our success this year. We’ve had a lot of great things happen – one after another. But it’s still hustling. It’s still rehearsing when you just want to watch TCM. It’s making the gig and missing an old friend in town for a weekend.
The hustle keeps you re-evaluating yourself all the time. “Do we need to change the set-list tonight?” “Damn, we need new pictures. I look scary.” ”Does the bridge on this song sound like the other tune?”
The Roots ‘N Blues ‘N BBQ Fest will be the highlight of our year.
I know it may be corny, but I’m really proud to have our name linked to the state of Missouri. We’ve got a great musical legacy here: Big Joe Turner and Bird and Basie here in KC. That great St. Louis lineage from Henry Townshend to Chuck to Albert King and Ike and Tina. University towns like Columbia and Springfield had great young musicians and songwriters – Lou Whitney, Ozark Mountain Daredevils. Scott Joplin wrote the “Maple Leaf Rag” in Sedalia. And Branson. We should be easy on Branson. There are still some great old country players down there if you know where to look. Wanda Jackson’s there often. The Brumleys. I used to play with one of Elvis’ old sidemen, Jim Principe, down there.
You don’t have to seek artistic dissatisfaction. It will find you. As good as this year has been, we’ve had projects that have fallen through. It evens out.
Tribune: You are a singer/songwriter. Let’s dissect both sides of that slash. First, talk a bit about your songwriting process. What are some experiences or ideas that have served as consistent muses? How do you know when a song is finished and ready to be brought before a live audience? On the other side of that ledger, who are some of the vocalists that inspired you early on, not only in their timbre but the ability to tell/sell a story?
Vivone: As a young man, writing was an exorcism. I wrote about my heartbreaks, my relationship with my father. Hard topics. It was therapeutic to write, but performing it was hell – on me and on the audience. Some things were so deep and painful to relive onstage night after night. People wouldn’t know what to say. I ambushed them with a therapy session. In the corner would be a couple of kids that just came out to dance and I’m telling them this awful, painful stuff.
This is blues. Yes, I agree. But blues is also “Get up and move your butt” music. It’s also “Life is short so let’s dance.” The deep hurt of Son House is blues. But so is the hysteria of Elmore James. I trick myself now. I write about people like me – but not me. The characters go through things similar to what I have, but they are allowed to make choices I wouldn’t. I’m also just a happier person now.
I bring new song ideas to audiences in pieces. It’s never like a proper unveiling. Maybe you play the new riff you like; see if any one claps. Maybe you toss out some new verses as an ad-lib in another song and see if anyone responds or yells “Heard ‘dat.” That tells me if I should keep pursuing it.
As a kid I sang in school choir and church. We did a bunch of spirituals: “Deep River,” “In That Great Getting Up Morning.” I liked to belt. It was fun. Church choir was almost like a gang, like an army. Then, as a teen starting my own bands, the other instruments shout you down. Amps just flatten you. So I adjusted myself to becoming the silent moody guitar soloist for years.
I went back to my hometown of Cape Girardeau for a semi-reunion of my first high school rock band one New Year’s Eve. I’m down by the Mississippi waiting for the boys to show and I just start singing. I wanted to hear my voice skim over the river and come back to me. And I thought “Why don’t I do that onstage?” That was a breakthrough. I love Etta James. She is the queen of phrasing. From gutbucket stuff to Dinah Washington.
Tribune: This spring, a reformed Billy Bats lineup converged. What are the strengths of this lineup? How have they informed your process and contributed to your growth as a musician?
Vivone: This new Bats line up allows my influences to mix together. Funk grooves. Banjo. Gospel. Fiddle. I love it that they all sing. It’s a brand new palette. I get to go back to my church roots. I can also look into ragtime chord progressions and shout out like the Family Stone.
Tribune: Festival crowds are pretty mixed as far as previous exposure to an artist’s work – some have heard you, some haven’t. Why do you believe your band has what it takes to win converts to your sound, and how would you describe your style for those uninitiated in all things Jason Vivone and the Billy Bats?
Vivone: Festival audiences are eager to hear music they’ve not been exposed to before. They are drawn by the headliners but are ready to walk around and sample the other acts.The Roots ‘N Blues ‘N BBQ fest is ideal for us because we’re not a straight Chicago blues band or early rock and roll or ragtime or New Orleans, but you can taste those things in it. We try to be our own little festival.
Tribune: What other Roots ‘N Blues artist do you look most forward to hearing this year and why?
Vivone: I saw The Staple Singers and Robert Cray as a teenager at my first Chicago Blues Festival in 1986. They were playing the same night in Grant Park. Albert King played between them. Both he and Cray did “Phone Booth.” Mavis and Pops and the girls sang “Why Am I Treated So Bad?”
Also at the Chicago Blues Festival – maybe ’89 – a friend and I hung out backstage hoping to meet Taj Mahal. A Lincoln pulled up. The window lowered. The driver said, “Is this the Front Porch Stage?” We’re like, “Yeah.” Driver pops open the trunk and takes out a guitar case. Backseat door opens. Taj Mahal steps out. He nods to us. “Fellas.” He walks backstage. We didn’t say anything. We were awestruck. I swear he stepped out of that car twelve feet tall.
