27/06/2023
Few instrumentalists, singers, and songwriters have left a more distinct mark on bluegrass music than Jesse McReynolds, who died June 23 at age ninety-three.
Born July 9, 1929, in Carfax, Virginia, McReynolds was one half of the duo Jim & Jesse, playing mandolin and singing alongside his older brother, Jim McReynolds (1927-2002). For more than fifty years, the brothers were a beacon of showmanship, peerless playing, and innovation in bluegrass music, finding chart success with sides such as “Diesel on My Tail” and “Cotton Mill Man.”
Their songs were fueled by inimitable sibling harmony—with McReynolds’s brother’s high tenor soaring above his sturdy melody line. It was McReynolds's playing style, too, that set the act apart from their peers.
Inspired by bluegrass trailblazer Earl Scruggs, McReynolds developed a distinctive and influential cross-picking technique on the mandolin—a slight inversion of the three-finger style Scruggs popularized on the banjo. Whereas banjo players would employ three picks, McReynolds just used one.
“Yeah, I do everything the hard way,” he joked in an interview on the TV program “Ronnie Reno’s Old Time Music.”
Raised in a musically rich region of southern Appalachia, the siblings began performing locally as the McReynolds Brothers in the 1940s, soon moving to several radio stations in the Southeast and Midwest. They made their first recordings (as the Virginia Trio) for Kentucky Records in 1951, and signed with Capitol the following year.
Then known as Jim & Jesse and the Virginia Boys, the act made frequent rounds on radio barn dances, and soon launched their own television programs in local markets throughout the Southeast, getting a boost after sponsor Martha White Foods signed on in 1960.
1964 was a pivotal year for Jim & Jesse: the duo became members of the Grand Ole Opry, where they’d remain fixtures for the rest of their career. Now recording for Epic, they also scored their first country chart hit with “Cotton Mill Man.” Still, the next few years saw the brothers remain more popular as performers than recording artists.
Under pressure from Epic to lean harder into the popular sounds of mainstream country, Jim & Jesse earned the biggest hit of their career with the Billy Sherrill-produced trucker song “Diesel on My Tail,” which reached #18 on the country charts in 1967.
But even at the peak of their commercial success, the duo was drawn to experimentation and moving against the grain. There may be no greater example of that spirit than their 1965 album "Berry Pickin’ in the Country."
A collection of bluegrass renditions of songs by rock & roll architect Chuck Berry, the album found McReynolds interpreting the opening guitar licks of “Johnny B. Goode” on his mandolin, illuminating the ties that bind country, rock, blues, and bluegrass. When the duo launched a syndicated TV show in the mid-sixties, electric and steel guitar had become part of their sound.
McReynolds’s dizzying technique didn’t just draw in audiences at the Opry and Newport Folk Festival. It ignited the imaginations of musicians in a wide variety of genres, including the Doors, who invited him to play mandolin on their 1969 album “The Soft Parade.”
Years after Jerry Garcia’s passing, McReynolds learned that Jim & Jesse were a favorite of the Grateful Dead frontman. (McReynolds later honored him with a 2010 tribute album, “Songs of the Grateful Dead.” He was eighty-one years old at the time.)
After forming their own label, Old Dominion Records, in the 1970s, McReynolds and his brother returned to their acoustic roots. They continued to record and perform for the next thirty years, settling into their status as one of the most influential and widely respected first-generation acts in bluegrass. They were inducted into the International Bluegrass Music Association’s Hall of Fame in 1993.
Following his brother’s death in 2002, McReynolds continued to record and tour as Jesse McReynolds & the Virginia Boys. In 2019, he celebrated his fifty-fifth anniversary as an Opry member, singing and picking on its famous stage alongside twenty-first century admirers such as Ketch Secor and Charlie Worsham. The Opry crowd that night gave him a standing ovation, as they’d done many times before.
“I can’t play as fast and as accurate as I used to, but that happens as you get older,” he said in an interview with the Opry that same year.
“I guess I put myself down a lot of times, too much. I say, ‘Well, I can’t play like I used to, and maybe I should give it up. But that’s something that . . . I’ll never give it up.”