We round the year’s corner with our annual staff picks, notable mentions, and our most-anticipated releases of 2020.
In a banner year of explosive music, these are the gems we couldn’t get out of our heads—the ones that brought us happiness, punched us in the guts, lit our fires and kept them blazing. As they say, this is what it’s all about.
We hope this list—which runs the gamut from newgrass to avant jazz to fiery blues to acoustic singer/songwriters to every color of rock’s ever-changing rainbow—brings on a few discoveries for those listening. Please let us know in the comments what your picks of the year are, and don’t be shy to tell us what we missed … because sharing is caring!
As we bask in reflection and head chin-up toward 2020, we wish you an illuminating year ahead, full of all the things you love, which most surely includes, since you’re reading this, plenty of musical delights and revelries.
ANDY ELLIS — SENIOR EDITOR
Home
I can’t get this guy out of my head. Fortunately, Billy’s feral flatpicking, emotive voice, and extraordinary (and often unsettlingly autobiographical) originals are welcome ricocheting around in there. The album’s foundation is 100-percent bluegrass: High, lonesome vocal harmonies hover over virtuosic banjo, fiddle, mandolin, and upright bass. Yet Billy is obviously from another planet. His tones run the gamut from shimmering acoustic to stone psychedelic amped-up flattop, and he plays with the intensity of a man possessed. Bluegrass from Mars? I’ll take it.
Songs for Groovy Children: The Fillmore East Concerts
When Band of Gypsys was released in March 1970, the U.S. was in turmoil. Cities were literally burning. Tear gas was in the air. At Kent State, student protesters were shot dead by the National Guard. There was a growing generational clash between kids my age and the establishment: Civil rights, women’s rights, and, of course, the Vietnam War were driving seismic societal change, and it wasn’t pretty. Fronting his new trio, Hendrix captured the zeitgeist with songs like “Machine Gun,” “Changes,” and “Power of Soul,” and in a real way—at least to this guitarist—the music heralded the end of the flower-power era. Band of Gypsys was culled from four shows recorded on New Year’s Eve 1969 and the following night. With Songs for Groovy Children, we can now hear all four sets Hendrix and his bandmates Billy Cox and Buddy Miles performed over the course of 48 hours. It’s fascinating to hear Jimi tackle his new material—including the epic “Who Knows” and “Message to Love”—multiple times, giving each version a cosmic twist. The music sounded amazing then and feels equally relevant today.
Most-anticipated 2020 releases: Ben Harper, oud wizards Trio Joubran, and Jerry Douglas.
CHARLES SAUFLEY — GEAR EDITOR
Water Weird
Few artists conjure the spirit of gentle, benevolent anarchy quite like Vermont’s foremost homebrew psychedelicist, Matt Valentine. His recent records with MV & EE and as a solo artist are dreamy, hazy artifacts that simultaneously let mind and body wander while thrillingly asserting psychedelic music’s folk-art origins and potency. Here, on Wet Tuna’s second LP outing, he rejoins fellow New England sojourner and Tower Recordings collaborator Pat Gubler (aka P.G. Six) for a joyful, irreverent exercise in space-rock deconstruction that ultimately coalesces into an enveloping, intimate whole as warm and welcoming as firelight on a cold New England night.
Everybody Split
Grafting a sprawling “Like a Hurricane” solo to a Flying Nun-style Oz/Kiwi-jangle nugget? Sounds like perfection—or heaven—to me. And Melbourne, Australia’s Possible Humans gave us this very gift in the form of “Born Stoned,” an 11-minute centerpiece on a slab otherwise peppered with three-minute jangle-pop gems.
Jason Shadrick — ASSOCIATE EDITOR
Love Hurts
Over his last three solo albums, Julian Lage has started to cement his place as your favorite guitarist’s favorite guitarist. His great Tele experiment was born on Arclight, matured with Modern Lore, and reached peak melodicism with this collection of mostly covers. Even through the prism of tunes by Roy Orbison, Nazareth (!), Keith Jarrett, and Ornette Coleman, Lage’s otherworldly command of melody, touch, and dynamics is astounding. Big shout out to bassist Jorge Roeder and drummer Dave King for pushing and pulling the music in all the right places.
Magic: Live From the USA
This album totally caught me by surprise. I wasn’t familiar with Ben’s music at all until I heard him on the supremely excellent podcast Sterloid Talks. Not only are the tunes a collection of finely crafted sing-alongs (imagine a millennial Billy Joel fronting a synth-rock quartet), but the musicianship is outstanding. The rhythmic push and pull on “Old Friends” and the long-jam version of “Loving You Is Easy” are standouts.
Live in the U.K.
This was the year when musos made their mark. Vulfpeck guitarist Cory Wong dropped three live albums and a studio album in 2019, but this U.K. recording stands out for me. The monologue Wong drops in the opening track, “Lunchtime,” is a how-to guide on how to spot the musicians in the crowd. “You ready to hear some diminished chords?” His tight-as-hell band rips through 20 tracks and sound like they just downed a sixer of Four Loko on “Encore Jam/I’ve Lost My Chops.”
Most-anticipated 2020 releases: Pat Metheny’s From This Place, Sierra Hull, Martin Sexton, and I'm still waiting for one last great Clapton electric blues album.
Rich Osweiler — ASSOCIATE EDITOR
Acoustic Foolish
Full disclosure: I’ve been a Superchunk fan for, gulp, close to three decades now. They were a huge influence on my music writing and leanings towards power-pop-punk band scenarios in the ’90s. No Pocky for Kitty and Foolish were in my cassette deck or microwave-sized CD player almost always. So, when I first learned about an acoustic rework of Foolish, I was for sure curious, but didn’t have huge expectations. I just figured it would be a made-for-MTV Unplugged scenario or frontman Mac McCaughan strumming my favorite old tunes on an acoustic. I was wrong. Sure, it’s got the trip-down-memory lane aspect to it, but I wasn’t prepared for how well these newly arranged tunes—with piano and strings no less—come together. Few bands, in my opinion, have been able to create such memorable power-pop hooks and structures. The energy and angst in the adrenaline-infused tracks on Foolish lured me in 25 years ago, and the stripped-down Acoustic Foolish is further testament to the strength behind the songwriting. Bravo, Superchunk!
And Now for the Whatchamacallit
When this record arrived in my inbox this past spring, the band and album names demanded I listen to it right away. How could I not? Whatchamacallit was my favorite candy bar as a teen, and like the teen-pimple-producing treat, I’ve been overconsuming And Now for the Whatchamacallit since the first spin. Hailing from the hallowed psych-rock grounds of Perth, there’s almost a Beatles-esque musicality about these lads. (No, they don’t sound like the Beatles.) I’m huge into psych rock, but I often find some others going too far with noise and effects just for the sake of noise and effects—with little substance underneath. The Crumpets are fun, straight-up, dirt-laden goodness with big nods to mushroom-washed and fierce classic-glam rock to hard rock, and with a lot of great melodic songwriting sandwiched in. On a side note, “Hymn for a Droid” and “Keen for Kick Ons?” have been added to my very selective playlist for the Squaw Valley parking lot this season.
Most-anticipated 2020 releases: Green Day, Cornershop, Greta Van Fleet, My Bloody Valentine, Lady Gaga
shawn hammond — Chief Content Officer
Window Rock
It can feel crazy-weird how much Micah Nelson’s voice sounds like his dad, country legend Willie Nelson, on the sophomore effort from his Particle Kid project—particularly when it’s emanating from thudding drum crescendos full of fuzzed-out, feeding-back guitars, and bookended by keyboards that sound like retro video games or laser vortexes being sucked into oblivion. But it never comes across as bullshit aping for nepotistic gain. In fact, one needs no inclination whatsoever toward the elder Nelson’s music to enjoy Particle Kid’s glorious crunch, bristling grooves, and casually hooky melodies. The main musical DNA they share is a laidback ease and soulfulness that transcends genres.
Recôncavo
With its cascading arpeggios, lilting slide melodies, lo-fi feel, and plentiful room ambience, this solo acoustic outing carries heavy, welcome whiffs of John Fahey, the more baroque tendencies of John Renbourn and Stefan Grossman, and perhaps a bit of the haunted musing in Sir Richard Bishop’s work. If you crave engrossing, pensive, adventurous flattop playing with an old soul, the work of this 30-something Southerner who moved to New York to escape his musical past—only to fall in love with it and merge it with his experimental side—then Recôncavo is definitely worth a spin.
Honorable mentions: Billie Eilish’s When We All Fall Asleep, Where Do We Go?, the Yawpers’ Human Question, Chai’s PUNK
Most-anticipated 2020 releases: Come on, Division of Laura Lee—please!?
Ted Drozdowski — Senior Editor
Anthropocosmic Nest
Instrumental music really grabbed my ear in 2019, and none harder than the Messthetics’. Why? Anthony Pirog is the most exciting, accomplished, and eclectic guitar virtuoso I’ve encountered in years. And the ex-Fugazi rhythm section of Brendan Canty and Joe Lally can knock down houses or build cathedrals. These 11 tunes are a starry night in sound—full of wonder and delight, whether improvised, composed, or both, and always revealing more with further investigation. And their concerts are equally stellar … or interstellar. But what’s especially hip is how their deep rock roots underline (nearly) all their work with beatific accessibility.
Five Times Surprise
What? Pirog again? Yes, but also improvising guitar guru Henry Kaiser, bass great Andy West, violin superhero Tracy Silverman, and drummer supreme Jeff Sipe—all serving the inspiration of the Mahavishnu Orchestra. If you dig the original Mahavishnu, Miles’ wildest electric music, and other playing with a fat melodic backbone and an unbridled sense of adventure, you’ll love this. Their take on Mahavishnu’s “You Know You Know,” with Silverman breathing fire, is magnificent and worthy of holding the torch high. Plus, originals like the opener “Haboob” and the 40-minute improv “Twilight of the Space Gods” are flamethrowers. And hearing Kaiser and Pirog lord over the tonal landscape is a constant delight!
Kill or Be Kind
The rising blues star becomes a nova with her eighth album, illuminating a new level of artistry in her songwriting and guitar playing. The set is packed with spanky slide and growling leads, wild bends, and even a few dabs of atonality, reverse delay, and other sounds that typically make the genre’s purists dyspeptic. (Go, Samantha!) And she wields a mean cigar box. The songs break through the blues envelope to embrace roots rock, soul, and funk, too, without waddling in cliché, as the genre so often does. And she’s singing better than ever. The mainstream awaits!
Most-anticipated 2020 releases: The Slo Beats’ (Kenny Vaughan and Dave Roe) debut, Wire’s Mind Hive.
Wish list: After years of begging, the new Tool album arrived (my fourth favorite of 2019), but I’m still waiting for Tom Waits to throw us a bone, please. And Nashville legend Stan Lasstier needs to make an album with his scalding new trio, Madmuse.
Tessa Jeffers — Managing Editor
Ever Since I Lost My Mind
I played this record while writing my year-end reflection on music and found myself singing along to every song. I knew so many of the words, I could slay some karaoke. Simultaneously, memories floated into my mind from that time early in the year when I first discovered Ever Since I Lost My Mind. What are the best albums if not the literal soundtracks to your life? Susto’s third album benefitted definitely from having Ian Fitchuk (who won a Grammy for Kacey Musgraves’ Golden Hour last year) at the helm, but these songs stand just as strong with only an acoustic guitar and frontman Justin Osborne’s masterful storytelling. I was lucky to see both a stripped-down version and the full band treatment live this year. Both approaches worked equally well because Osborne’s narrative and melodies have that sticking power: I believe what he’s saying comes from a place of truth.
Help Us Stranger
This is the album I listened to on a sunset drive after a long day, window rolled down, blasting my favorite song of 2019, “Help Me Stranger,” so I could feel alive in modern times where we’re glued to devices for most of our waking days. My albums of the year are ones that I actually listened to from beginning to end, in my personal time, because they excited me, brought me in, and kept me coming back for more. This rare, unadulterated rock gave me a shit-eating grin when I first heard it. Jack White slapped me upside the head with inventive, bull-in-a-China-shop riffs and Brendon Benson held me close with a keen sense of melody. Pretty incredible for an album that came more than a decade after their last to miss no beats. It’s constant motion, formidable swing with impeccable timing and phrasing, light-dark storytelling, and an intangible quality that shows up when groups have unflappable chemistry, like … dare I say—the Beatles. It’s an instant, timeless classic that I’ll listen to 20 years from now. In our PG interview, Jack White said: “When you write or record or produce something, your hope is that you’ll be able to change somebody’s mood when they’re listening to it.” Well Jack, there you have it. The mood I got was: Let’s RAGE!
Honorable mentions: Lana Del Rey’s Norman Fucking Rockwell!, Orville Peck’s Pony, Liam Gallagher’s Why Me? Why Not., Neil Young and Crazy Horse’s Colorado
Most-anticipated 2020 releases: Red Hot Chili Peppers with John Frusciante, Kasabian, Alanis Morissette’s Such Pretty Forks in the Road, The 1975’s Notes on a Conditional Form
This month's tracks include new jams from the Artistocrats, J.R. Bohannon, Psychedelic Porn Crumpets, the Yawpers, and more!
The Kentucky-bred fingerstyle virtuoso talks about his journey from hating country to adoring it … in his own twisted, indie- and world-music-informed way.
There is a restless energy and enthusiasm in the way J.R. Bohannon speaks. Whether discussing his practice routine, his favorite musicians, or his ambitious musical plans, he’s passionate and effusive. His is an indefatigable spirit. “If this wasn’t the only thing in the world that eased my mind and let me live a normal existence … if I could do anything else, I probably would. But I can’t! This is the one thing that gets me up in the morning, and it’s the one thing I look forward to, going to bed at night.”
While discussing his latest EP, Recôncavo, it’s clear Bohannon is already excited to talk about his next album, Dusk, which is due out sometime this fall. His reason is quite understandable: Though recently re-released (more on this in a minute), Recôncavo was actually recorded a couple of years ago. But we were able to convince him the five-song EP is worth some attention before moving forward, because—in addition to being a record that brings a new angle to the solo acoustic tradition—it’s also a crucial part of Bohannon’s story.
The 31-year-old guitarist left the South for New York in 2009 with his eye on the city’s experimental music scene. He dove in head first, leading the ambient psychedelic solo project Ancient Ocean and jamming in ad hoc improv bands around the city. Once he’d been there a while, he discovered he was ready to rekindle his relationship with the music of his home. “Growing up in Louisville, being around Southern music traditions—country, bluegrass, Appalachian music, things like that—those were things that I heard but didn’t necessarily connect to at that time. I couldn’t stand country music back then because it’s everywhere, it’s shoved down your throat. [But when] I moved to New York, I started rediscovering that music in my own way. And then it gained a new meaning. Now, it’s my favorite music in the world.”
A couple years back, Bohannon decided it was time to get back to basics with a new project that used his own name. He began with a solo acoustic record, taking his time collecting the material for Recôncavo, recording and re-recording songs in various settings until he was ready to self-release the EP on Bandcamp and a small run of cassette tapes in March 2017. The result was a focused exploration of Bohannon’s wide range of deeply investigated personal influences, from the classical guitar music he studied as a teen to the Brazilian music he immersed himself in during college—and, of course, his newfound enthusiasm for country and experimental music. In April of this year, Recôncavo caught the attention of British label Phantom Limb, which was so enthusiastic about the recording that it offered to bring wider attention to it via re-release.
We recently chatted with Bohannon about the creative process behind both the EP and his upcoming full-length, and got more of his intriguing backstory.
You first started playing guitar by taking classical lessons when you lived in Louisville, right?
Yeah, I took mostly classical guitar lessons through my teens. I wasn’t really into the idea of classical guitar music, but I liked the techniques. At the time I was listening to a lot of Elliott Smith and Leo Kottke, so I loved the fingerpicking sound but I didn’t necessarily want to play classical music. In Kentucky, you either have to do that or take bluegrass lessons, and I didn’t want to do that either. It was kind of a combination of lessons and self-teaching as well. It was still a pretty early time as far as the internet and tablature goes—you still had to listen to stuff and figure it out for yourself. There was no YouTube, basically, so it was a little more of a challenge. I didn’t start taking it super seriously until I got into college. I grew up in the suburbs and my parents had different expectations than me becoming a musician, so that kind of weighed on me until my mid 20s—that pressure to have some kind of “normal” career. But time goes on and you realize there’s no such thing as a normal career. You just have to go full speed or don’t do it at all, in my opinion.
What sounds were you chasing that led you to move to New York?
Experimental music, free jazz, spastic balls-to-the-wall psychedelic music … the weirdest shit I could find. My favorite band at the time was Acid Mothers Temple, and I was listening to lots of Albert Ayler and Sonny Sharrock, so I wanted to move to New York and be around that. It’s funny because, living in the South—or anywhere where the pace of life is slower—I think it’s easier to digest experimental music, especially recorded, because life is not as chaotic. In New York, life is so chaotic, the last thing I want to do is hear some spastic free-jazz record. I still love that stuff, but I don’t have the space of mind for it on record as I did when I was 21. Now, when I’m home I want to listen to George Jones and ambient records. I don’t want it to take up too much space.
TIDBIT: This free-ranging album assays Bohannon’s treasure trove of influences, focusing primarily on the classical guitar he studied in his teens and the Brazilian music he devoured in college.
Listening to Recôncavo and Dusk, one hears references to American primitive guitar playing—you mentioned Leo Kottke—but also things like Brazilian music. How did that develop?
When I was in late high school, a friend gave me the [1968] self-titled Caetano Veloso record, and I fell in love with it—and with everything about Brazilian music—and got very obsessed. I studied abroad there and spent some time traveling around. I love not only the tropicália stuff, but I love the traditional música popular brasileira—MPB is what they call it. It’s the popular music of Brazil. A lot of those guys had a lot to do with the influence of timing and rhythm in my playing. If there’s one thing that gave to me as a guitar player, it’s that I don’t feel inclined to stay in one tempo or play to a click. I like to just go to my inner rhythm. When I play, I’m shifting in my seat because I’m kind of mustering up all these things in a way that I’m free flowing, rhythmically. I’ve listened to so much Brazilian music and spent so much time with it that a lot of the rhythms have become ingrained in what I do.
Both recordings sound aesthetically focused but use elements of the different styles you mentioned. Each track sounds like it’s thoroughly exploring a concept.
A few years ago, I said I’m going to really make a go at this, at playing guitar, and one thing that was really important to me was to not rush it. I recorded those songs [on Recôncavo] two or three times, and this next record probably three times all the way through, and just scrapped it. I just like to let songs grow over time. You know the way some people like to write and record, and then it’ll grow on the road? I like to do the opposite: I like to record something in its fully realized form, and I want it to be not only technically sound, but it needs the room to breathe. That’s something I strive for—to just let melodies breathe and play slow. I think you hear a lot of someone’s playing in the subtle nuances.
Were all the tracks on Recôncavo recorded in different places? Apparently “Under the Friar’s Ledge” was recorded in a hotel room….
Everything was recorded in different places. I pretty much travel with a mobile rig, just so I can get down ideas. Two tracks were recorded at home, one was recorded at a friend’s house, one was in a hotel room, and the fifth one … I don’t know where it was recorded.
What do you use to record?
I have a Tascam 388 [1/4" reel-to-reel 8-track], and I have some gear at home. I do a lot of recording myself, and everything I’ve done I’ve mixed myself. I’ve never given a record of my own to somebody else to mix. I feel like the way I sculpt things, sound-wise, comes through the way I mix. Maybe not as much on the EP, but on the next record there are a lot of layers. I’ve been making ambient records that are intricately layered for the last decade. I’ll have 50 tracks, and the way I put them together on my own is just as much of a creative process as playing the instrument.
A Fender Deluxe Nashville Telecaster is Bohannon’s go-to electric—perfect for both his country side, and an excellent workhorse for wilder 6-string inventions. Photo by Alex Phillipe Cohen
Near the end of Recôncavo’s “Fluctuation Pt. 1” there are some cool percussive, chime-y sounds. What’s going on there?
When I was recording I had my earbuds in, but I’d taken one of the earbuds out and it was dangling against the strings. I was like, “What is that sound?” It was really, really quiet and faint. So then I just boosted it really loud, took a bunch of the noise out, and literally scraped earbuds against the strings and bounced them against my 12-string. It just created this weird little percussive sound that’s really dense and textural.
It sounds very intentional.
The way I did it on the recording was, but the way I came to it was not. It just fell in there in its own natural way.
How do you feel like you’ve changed between the recording of Recôncavo and the recording of Dusk?
I think I’ve become a better player and a more patient player. The main thing is that I stopped feeling like I had to make an all-acoustic record. I felt that pretty strongly—that I wanted my first full-length to be 100 percent acoustic—but then I was like, “Whatever. That’s not what I am—I do a lot of different things.” I decided to make it the focus, but it doesn’t have to be everything. I let myself expand a little bit. That’s when I decided to take [Dusk] to a studio, to let it breathe a little bit and do overdubs. That also forced me to just do it rather than just sitting there and recording tracks in my room.
How do you approach the writing process?
When I sit down to write something, I do sit down intentionally to write something. I think the whole mindset of writing “when it comes to you” is bullshit. You’ve just gotta play and play and play. I’ve spent four hours playing and getting nowhere, and then in the fifth hour, there it is. Sometimes you really need to dig in there.
There’s still so much that can be done with songwriting. Song form can be whatever you want it to be. I’m interested in taking things that I love, especially simplistic things, and recontextualizing them. Like, on the next record that’s coming out, I do a pedal-steel version of a Ryuichi Sakamoto tune. And I’m going to do a Donald Byrd cover and recontextualize that in different ways. That’s what I’m interested in. That and the sheer joy of playing.
I get the impression you’re a big practicer. What are you working on at the moment?
These days, I’m playing pedal steel and guitar. I’m really trying to get to a point where I can do the lead country thing and the lead pedal-steel thing and do proper chicken-pickin’. Stuff like that. So I’m still practicing two or three hours a day, at least, because that stuff is labor intensive. You’ve got to put the hours in, because it shows. I’m really enjoying that at this phase of my life, because it’s almost meditative.
Guitars
1970s Guild F212
1970s Guild D55
Fender Deluxe Nashville Telecaster
Superior Weissenborn
Gretsch squareneck resonator
Carpsteel Rains pedal steel
Amps
1976 Fender Twin Reverb
1960s Ampeg Reverberocket
Kalamazoo Reverb 12
Effects
None
Strings and Picks
Various La Bella sets
Dunlop medium thumbpicks
Dunlop .013 mm and .018 mm brass fingerpicks
Have you learned any lessons from playing pedal steel?
Playing pedal steel opens my eyes hugely to how I play 6-string. To play pedal steel, you have to have knowledge of theory, and you’re always looking for how to get from point A to point B and visualizing it before. So I’ve taken that to my guitar playing, and it really helps me.
What’s your practice routine like?
I have terrible ADD, but I make it work for me: I always have my pedal steel set up, I have a synth set up, and I’ll have a book next to me. If I’m losing thought on one thing, I’ll quickly switch to something else instead of meandering too long. Instead of sitting down and doing one thing, I’ll sit down and do three or four things and, over the course of the day, I’ll have made progress on all of them. When people talk about rigorous practice regimens, it’s like 20 minutes on, 15 minutes off. You can kind of cheat that by moving on to something else and coming back.
Something that’s helped me a lot is that I don’t make to-do lists the night before anymore. I always do it day of, so when I come up with what I’m going to do, that’s what I’m inspired by that day. I used to let myself down a lot, because I’d make this list for the next day and then I’d be like, “I don’t want to do any of this.” So I stopped doing that completely, and it changed everything for me. Now I say, “These are the three things I want to focus on today, and here are three things I kind of want to focus on.” Those main three things I’ll make myself come back to, and those other things I’ll just float in and out of. At the end of the day, I’ve usually gotten those things done, or at least made progress.
How do you approach alternate tunings?
I find myself in traps of doing the same thing over and over, so I’m constantly looking for new tunings. Obviously, there’s a reference point—open G and open C, or whatever—but I’m always just fidgeting with whatever I can find. It doesn’t really matter to me if it makes sense or not. If I can find a chord voicing that’s cool in a weird tuning, that’s great. On my 12-string, for example, on the 5th and 6th [pairs of] strings I only have one string, and on the 1st through 4th [pairs] I have two strings. So on the bottom I can play melodies that are more distinct and do rhythm things that are more chime-y. The cool part about 12-string is, if you tune each of the two strings to different things, it’s a completely unique thing. There’s more room for exploration. Both records are kind of indebted to this exploration.
Doing side work now, I have to play in standard tuning, but up until a couple years ago I hadn’t played in standard for about a decade. I’ve been enjoying playing in standard everyday, and it’s brand new to me because I never understood it. Standard tuning on a guitar is the weirdest thing on the planet to me.
Arpeggios abound in J.R. Bohannon’s lush improvisation with fellow acoustic 12-stringer Alexander Turnquist. This minimalist-inspired piece is a great introduction to Bohannon’s playing and aesthetic.