Song de Jour

The acoustic music world is filled with stunning talent flying gracefully, if often sadly, under the radar of the commercial music industry.

It’s great for us, because we get to see tremendous musicians in small venues at reasonable prices. And it’s awful, because these phenomenal artists aren’t getting the recognition — or compensation — of many less-talented musicians who sing other people’s songs, don’t play their own instruments well, or at all, and are stuck in the rut dictated by something other than their own muse. (OK, this is an issue for a different post.)

I’m used to listening to excellent musicians at house concerts — mine or other peoples’ — and at the few venues in Portland that host these folks.

But I’m not used to dropping my jaw at astonishing talent. But I did the other evening, when I got to hear the Matt Flinner Trio.

So the expected part. Matt Flinner is an extraordinary mandolin player. I’ve known this for a long time, as I watched him when he was quite young and have loosely followed his career for 20-some years.

Bassist Eric Thorin and guitarist Ross Martin are equally skilled, versatile and entertaining.

But here’s the part I didn’t know about.

When they tour, they impose on themselves the requirement of “Song de Jour.”

Each of them must compose a song for that evening’s performance. They have to write it; score it for the others; and become proficient in their own as well as their band mates’ new works. All between 12:01 a.m. that day and the time of the concert.

And if they are playing with guest artists, as they are doing on their entire West Coast tour, they try to write something that complements the style of their fourth player. Since their usual style leans toward jazz, with a lot of dissonance and unusual chording, this can be a stretch.

When they performed with clawhammer banjo player Bob Carlin, they created tunes with an old-time feel. When playing with Tony Furtado, they incorporated traditional-sounding melodies reminiscent of Tony’s earliest solo banjo albums. All they while, they inserted their own styles — including Eric’s bass-driven syncopation, including lots of rests requiring precision stops interspersed with complicated rhythms.

I’d love to be there when they perform with Mike Compton, whose mandolin playing reflects Bill Monroe’s more than any other contemporary picker.

Some of their stuff is a little way out for this old bluegrasser’s taste. But a lot of it is very melodic and beautifully musical.

Their blend of three instruments, or four with a guest, is remarkably full and satisfying. Their timing, as always demonstrated on Eric’s tunes, is stunning.

And the whole effect really is jaw-dropping.

It’s great to be totally astonished in a happy way.