When Alabama sings “play me some mountain music,” they express their love for an Appalachian style of banjo-picking, heavily reliant on a narrow canon. Johnny Bell also lives in the mountains, but his range is the Rockies. On Mountain States, Bell seeks to liberate the instrument from traditional associations by showcasing its stylistic and timbral possibilities. While other modern artists incorporate the sound of the banjo, most noticeably Mumford & Sons and The Lumineers, few focus on the banjo as the primary instrument, without the use of vocals. Mountain States cleverly declares that the state can be South Dakota, the mountain can be found in Diego Canyon, and the sound can be whatever the banjoist decides, in Bell’s case the sub-genre of banjo drone.
We first encountered Bell on 2024’s Field Trips, which incorporated field recordings from Arizona and California, along with radio samples. Mountain States is a very different album, in some ways purer, its adornments including fiddle, shruti box, and Andrew Weathers’ Rhodes, guitar and synth. Co-released by Centripetal Force and Australia’s Ramble Records, this new record is a reminder that Australia also has mountains, and can make an equal claim to authentic mountain music.
More than anything, Bell’s album is a reflection of how the landscape feels. Perhaps ironically, it begins in “Departure Valley,” but a mountain is first appreciated by the view from below. A drone is present as early as the opening minute, never obtrusive, offering a backdrop like heat shimmer. The music is darker than one might expect (unless one is familiar with such bands as Murder By Death), laden with drama, a far cry from the carefree campfire tunes with which the banjo has too often been associated. Bell’s banjo connotes mystery and danger, a departure into the unknown. Relenting on “Staying Home,” the music turns wistful, as if weighing its options; but “Old Blood,” the first of the longer pieces, sets out across the prairie with weapons and a wary eye. One might interpret the flow as an alternate sort of mountain state, a surrender to awe.
“Monsoon Sunset” contributes yet another facet, a sweetness borne on the subtle synths, which operate in the same manner as a string section, ending on an extended tone. As much beauty lies in the mountains as danger, inextricably intertwined, like the serpent and the stream. “Evening Primrose” produces the LP’s sonic peak, as the supporting instruments allow the banjo to climb higher, like sherpas bearing gear. The mountain experience is not complete until one ascends.
With deference to Alabama, this is the sort of banjo music we want to hear now: not the music of our ancestors, but the unpredictable notes of today. (Richard Allen)
a closer listen 