The Groanbox Boys: A multi-instrumental duo with a special rhythm stick

By Ben Chu

Thursday, 26 April 2007

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On stage, Cory Seznec and Michael Ward-Bergeman - the American duo who make up the Groanbox Boys - make far more music then two fellows playing acoustic instruments have a right to. The engine room of the band is Ward-Bergeman's modified "hyperaccordian", an instrument he cradles like a bear protecting its cub. He begins by laying down a bass rhythm with his left hand that resonates to your gut. Then, with his right, he gets to work on the melody, hammering out a bluesy riff. Laid over the top is the sound of Seznec's fretless gourd banjo; its mellow stream of notes providing a driving counterpoint to the accordian.

Then there's the percussion. Tied around Ward-Bergeman's right shin is piece of cloth covered in small bells (which he calls "shackles") that rattle like a tambourine when he brings his foot down hard on the beat. The overall effect is confusing at first - but soon becomes utterly enthralling. This is music that goes deep into the roots of popular music. Mixed in here is West African Griot songs, Deep South blues, Nashville harmonies, Eastern European gypsy dances, even a touch of English Morris Dancing.

Yet perhaps the purest Groanbox Boys experience comes when they lay down their usual instruments and Ward-Bergeman grabs the "Freedom Boot". This is the band's percussive totem pole - a thick, six foot, pine stick with 420 bottle caps screwed loosely down its length, and a dirty great boot at the end. Ward-Bergeman departs the stage, heads into the audience stomping the boot as he goes and shaking the bottletops in an insistent rhythm. Seznec follows close behind, bending frantic notes out of his harmonica. Suddenly, the boot is among you. As if possessed by some supernatural force, you raise your hands and begin to clap in time. Having returned to the stage with the boot after his little journey, Ward-Bergeman stamps his foot in a cross rhythm, cranking up the frenzied atmosphere to an almost unbearable level. By the end, you're left wondering which is going to give way first: the roof or the floor.

Over a pint at Brook's Blues Bar last month, a weekly blues night held at the Telegraph Pub in Putney, south-west London, the Groanbox Boys explained to me where this remarkable sound comes from. Gypsy music features large in the musical training of Ward-Bergeman, 36: "I played with the Taraf de Haïdouks. The accordian in east European folk music is a very prominent instrument."

The background of Seznec, 26, is in pre-war American blues and ragtime guitar, plus Appalachian mountain music. But there is also a strong country flavour to the Groanbox Boys, especially in their singing. "A huge influence of ours is the Delmore Brothers, who did the Nashville circuit in the Twenties, Thirties and Forties." says Seznec. "They had really great, tight harmonies." Ward-Bergeman concurs: "They are utterly unique. You know instantly when you hear them: 'that's the Delmore Brothers'. They had their vision."

The Groanbox Boys had their vision too, although it took a little while to come into focus. Seznec came to London from Washington DC to study history at the London School of Economics in 2004. "I was desperate for people to play music with," he says, "so I posted this thing on Craig's List saying: 'Looking for all manner of gypsy, blues, ragtime, jazz instrumentalists: guitar, violin, mandolin, banjo, zither... and finally accordian."

Ward-Bergeman, another ex-pat American, originally from Long Island, saw the ad and got in touch. The duo got to work putting these unusual combinations of instruments together. Then, in March 2005, they began traipsing around London searching for venues.

One independently produced album of original songs, Smokestack Trilogy, and a UK tour behind them, the Groanbox Boys are pleased at the impact they are making. "It seems like we could pass in any venue," says Seznec. "We played the Betsey Trotwood pub [in North London]. There was a bunch of punks, indie rockers and stuff. They were all digging the banjo and accordian thing. Any pub we play, whether it's a posh pub or a working class pub, they love it. It seems like people of all types go for this music. It's largely due to the Coen Brothers' film Oh Brother, Where Art Thou? [which features a lot of old time music]. But it's not just that. There's a real fatigue with this plugged-in music, constantly using effects, just assaulting your ears. There's something really pleasant and nice about hearing acoustic instruments played in cool ways." Ward-Bergman agrees: "I know from a technical standpoint, they keep diminishing the dynamic range of music so that it sounds as loud as possible all the time. Anything you hear on the radio, it's ultra compressed. It's always in your face. People want to hear two people that play and approach their instruments sensitively."

But The Groanbox Boys see something more profound than a popular reaction against commercial pop. "In the US, we've been subject to unrelenting economic development," says Seznec. "People grow up in these places where everywhere you go it looks the same. People are pining for some sort of past that may be a little more romantic, more real - something that's anchored in a tradition of some kind. People everywhere are feeling uprooted and have no sense of who they are."

"It is becoming more clear to me," says Ward-Bergeman. "When we're on the stage I can feel the people listening and feeling the same thing. It awakens something within people that there is a need for. Western pop music is always on the stage. It's all: 'Look at me!'. Of course, as performers we're like that. We like to be looked at too, to be admired. But I think we have a balance. We're aware that there's the audience too. We want to be part of that tradition that makes music alive and real. We want to make music that resonates with people so they, maybe, think in a different way."

It's all about the spirit. "Another big influence of ours has been the Alan Lomax folk collection [pre-war field recordings from the US and, later, around the world]" explains Seznec. "It's a capella stuff, pan flutes that people carved themselves. It's the gutsiest, coolest stuff you can ever hear. You can never hear it in some Fender Strat plugged into 8,000 racks of amplifiers. To hear those recordings of people playing on garbage cans, beating out a rhythm! I was almost crying when I first heard it." Ward-Bergeman nods in agreement. "It wasn't a show. The biggest folk thing that's happened in the past decade has been Buena Vista Social Club. Those guys were on the street shining shoes when Ry Cooder went down to Cuba. They were singing the songs for people who were coming to get their shoes shined. It was part of their life. That's the big thing that keeps coming up for us: It's life, not a show."

Dig underneath the fingernail of modern popular music and you get to the quick. There - in the raw, living, tissue - is where you'll find the Groanbox Boys. It's not a show. It's life.

'Smokestack Trilogy' is available now from www.CDBaby.com