A.C. Bushnell

DUH’s Jon Seskevich and local musician A.C. Bushnell combine ancient sacred words with traditional American music

This article was originally published in the April 2008 edition of Inside Duke Medicine.

For A.C. Bushnell, it’s not a violin —it’s a fiddle. With that one word, you know the kind of music the Chapel Hill musician makes. It is not the rarefied strains found in the concert hall, but the sweet, American traditional music that has flowed from the back porches of Central North Carolina homes on Friday nights for 400 years.

Last summer, that tradition took a new turn when Bushnell teamed with Jon Seskevich, R.N., a nurse clinician and stress management expert at Duke University Hospital.

For years, Seskevich has explored the healing power of words and touch and music.

In private life, he has been interested in all kinds of expressions of spirituality, particularly the notion that nearly every faith group has a tradition of chanting, of ritually repeating meaningful words.

During chanting, he said, “negativity and stress flies off of you.”

Once, at a concert, Bushnell noticed a fellow dancing and smiling to Bushnell’s instrumental music. It was Seskevich.

Later, the two talked.

“He said, ‘Do you want to know what I was doing? I said, ‘Sure’” Bushnell said. “He said, ‘While you were playing, I was chanting the names of God.’”

Bushnell invited him over to his house to jam.

Seskevich, who produced with friends a diverse album of chants in 2004, chanted from the Hindu tradition while Bushnell played songs he’d learn3ed from old-time players.

“I dunno, it just worked,” Bushnell said. “The traditional music comes from the grassroots, the old-time songs. And the chanting is even older-time music, like 10,000 years ago.”

Last year, Bushnell put out anew album, “Dancing on the water,” on which Seskevich provided lyrics and sings harmony. Provided with the album is a DVD that frankly discusses Bushnell’s successful struggle with liver cancer and how that experience affected him and his art.

On the album are two tracks of Roots-Chant fusion. Both are old Americana instrumentals tweaked by Seskevich’s chanting.

In “Shiva at the Falls of Richmond,” a chant invoking the Hindu god – Om Namah Shivaaya — is laid over an old Appalachian banjo tune.

The two also reconceived the rollicking old fiddle tune “jimmy Johnson,” by singing with it a version of “Gopala,” — Devakiananda na Gopala – an old Sanskrit chant about a mother’s unconditional love for her baby.

“A wonderful thing happened when we put the two together,” Seskevich said. “It makes you want to dance. It makes you happy.”

The two are working on another album. They hope to have it done by Labor Day.

Listen to “Shiva at the Falls of Richmond” and “jimmy Johnson Gopala” at http://inside.dukemedicine.org

Find “Dancing on the Water” and Seskevich’s album of sacred chants at the Duke University Medical Center bookstore.

This interview originally aired on WUNC North Carolina Public Radio on November 1, 2007.

“Fiddler A.C. Bushnell is a staple on the Triangle music scene, known for playing with traditional groups like the Stillhouse Bottom Band. Two years ago, he received a frightening medical diagnosis… one that scared him into finally living his dream of recording a solo album. A.C.'s project, "Dancing on the Water" will be released to local audiences this weekend and he joins host Frank Stacio to talk about finding the faith to make music his way.”

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How a battle with liver cancer gave a fiddler something to sing about

This article, by Ruth Eckles, was originally published in The Independent Weekly on October 31, 2007.

On a June evening in 2005, A.C. Bushnell was taking Interstate 90 into upstate New York, daydreaming about front-porch picking, country walking and lake swimming. He was going to visit a few old musician friends and unwind from a hectic work week. But a phone call broke his reverie: His doctor was on the other end, telling Bushnell that the results of a recent blood test looked worrisome. A week later, an MRI revealed that Bushnell had a large tumor in his liver.

"It's a very strange feeling to think that you might leave the earth so soon," Bushnell, now 60 and a cancer survivor, muses. "The world looked really beautiful to me. It was very poignant. I asked myself, 'If I am to die, what is it I want to do while I'm still here?'"

Bushnell's doctor was able to remove the tumor by performing a liver resection, effectively removing the left lobe of his liver. A year after the phone call, Bushnell was cleared of cancer and past the most grueling part of his recovery. He knew it was time for some changes. He sold his company, General Vitamin Corporation, where he'd been president for the past 15 years. He'd never liked that job very much.

"One of the things I pledged to myself after the surgery was, 'I'm not going to drag my ass through anything I don't want to do ever again,'" he remembers. He had no idea what he was going to do other than record a new album.

Bushnell grew up in the heart of Greenwich Village, across the street from Allan Block's Sandal Shop, a hotbed of the newly burgeoning folk revival movement at the start of the '60s. Then a shy teenager, Bushnell would hang out with his fiddle in the background of Block's shop and listen to a young Bob Dylan play folk music. ("He wasn't as big of a deal then, but we all knew who he was.") It was the starting point of his enduring love affair with traditional songs.

In May 1972, when Bushnell was 25, he moved to Chapel Hill with his friend Bland Simpson (of The Red Clay Ramblers). He wanted to be closer to the roots of the music he loved. Since 2001, he has made three albums with The Stillhouse Bottom Band. His frenzied, contagious improvisational energy on the fiddle has earned him the local nickname "The Jimi Hendrix of the Fiddle," but Bushnell had never written songs until he got sick.

"When I first started, I just thought I'd record an old-time music record. That's what I've done and that's what I'm known for," he says. "But things began to sort of organically evolve and expand, and the next thing I knew I was writing songs."

These songs called for a new sound, a different set of musicians, an overall departure from the known. Bushnell went to The Rubber Room, a recording studio in Chapel Hill where Jerry Brown (a guitarist in The Shady Grove Band) engineers. Bushnell and Brown had known each other as fellow musicians for years.

"When A.C. first came in, he had been doing a lot of stuff with folky, old-time bands," says Brown, the album's co-producer. "I introduced him to Will McFarlane [former guitarist for Bonnie Raitt] and Robert Sledge [former bassist for Ben Folds Five], people who were more on the electric side of the fence, but also do acoustic stuff and are super players."

Along with Red Clay Rambler's Chris Frank on keys and Kevin Brock on drums, the trio formed The Happyjoy Band. The players became an actual band as the sessions progressed: "People usually come in and record records, but … we weren't just recording a band whose style and sound already existed," says Brown. "We took a tune that had just been created and then put all these parts together and kept changing it around."

The result is Dancing on the Water, an exuberant, rangy exploration of death and rebirth, war and peace, love and indifference, sin and redemption, addiction and freedom. Dancing on the Water tackles unlikely subjects like reincarnation, Buddha and spiritual awakening. On two tracks, Bushnell and keyboardist Richard Shulman weave improvised, ethereal violin and keyboard riffs around poems by a self-described mystic poet named Grace. She's a reclusive spiritual counselor from Mt. Shasta, Calif., and a longtime friend and spiritual mentor for Bushnell. Two other tracks combine old-time music with what Bushnell calls "even older time music." He's referring to Kirtan, a type of Hindu chanting where the names of Hindu gods and goddesses are repeated in a communal call-and-response format. To say the least, the tracks that use Kirtan leave a few old-time purists nonplussed.

"Some people really like it," he says. "Some people in the old-time community are not liking it. There are people in the chanting community who don't like it, and then there are those that really do."

Bushnell shrugs as he says this. He went through enough in writing this first batch of songs and turning them into an album—cancer, writing, forming a band, recording—that the most important expectations are his own: "Because of feeling so close to death, I know now that I'm going to die. I always intellectually knew that someday the body would die, but now I know it viscerally. It's almost like walking around with death a little bit every day," Bushnell says. "This actually gives me a huge advantage over people walking around thinking they're never going to die—like people in their 20s. You play as though this concert may be your last or this day might be your last."

This interview was originally broadcast on WCOM-FM radio in Carrboro, NC on October 25, 2007.

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Chapel Hill musician bounces back with new record, new outlook

By Chris Bushnell

The following article is from "The Good Life," an annual supplement to the News & Observer, published September 21, 2007.

A.C. Bushnell played his first fiddle tune at age 14. The difference between fiddle and violin, a difference he is often asked to explain, is the way the instrument is played and the way it is tuned; what kind of music comes out of it lies in the player's choice of approach. On his more than 40 years of playing the fiddle, "If I can't play by now, I've got no excuse," he says with a laugh.

In January of this year, A.C. celebrated his 60th Birthday at his home in Chapel Hill. The party, filled with family, friends, food — and lots of music — stretched from sundown to the early hours of the morning. A.C .'s singing and fine fiddle notes rode the high crest of joy in the house as the warmth of the party escaped out and disappeared among the tall, naked trees. At a glance, one would never have known that, just 18 months before, the music could have stopped for good.

"I remember what the doctor said," A.C. explains. "You don't forget this call." Dr. Michael Fried, head of Hepatology & Transplantation at UNC Memorial Hospital, told A.C. that chemical markers in his blood showed that he had liver cancer. As upsetting as it must be to get the results, Fried said, he was very optimistic because they could cut the cancer out — an option that wasn't available in cases like A.C.'s even five years ago. Despite his doctor's bright outlook, the gravity of the diagnosis filled A.C.'s mind with uncertainty.

Devoted to exercising three times a week, A.C. felt healthy. Throughout the years of playing music for fun with life-long friends, and band concerts big and small, he had managed to establish and preside over a successful national direct mail business, and raise three sons to adulthood with his wife. He also officiated at weddings from time to time as an ordained interfaith minister. Now semi-retired, it felt strange to him that he might leave the world he found so beautiful so soon.

A.C. prepared himself for the possibility he might not have as much time as he thought he had a few days before. "If I've only got three months to live, what will I do with my time?" he asked himself. He began making a list and realized immediately that, whether the surgery worked or not, he had to do the things on his list. "What was I waiting for? Or for that matter, what's anybody waiting for?"

Among the important things on A.C's list were the words "GO INTO THE STUDIO AND RECORD." So he plunged into the Rubber Room studio in Chapel Hill with friend and producer Jerry Brown. He figured he would record an "old-time" record, as he had before with fellow preservationists of the pre-bluegrass sound that's been rolling down from the Appalachian Mountains for over a century. But the great majority of what made the cut for the album is not old-time, and is instead songs A.C. composed, or other pieces with musical influences he hadn't ever recorded, like Sanskrit chanting. The album, titled "Dancing on the Water," is set for a November release.

It wasn't just the style of music that was new. As A.C. branched out from the familiarity of old-time and plucked away at the guitar writing songs, Brown suggested other musicians who lived in the area that could bring the new material to fruition in splendid fashion. Together, they would become The Happyjoy Band.

Will McFarlane, who has played alongside Bonnie Raitt, can make his guitar cry or sing. "It is obvious that Will is in the top 2 percent of guitar players in the world," A.C. says. On bass is Robert Sledge, formerly of Ben Folds Five, who A.C. considers "virtually genius" at his craft. And filling out the group are keys player Chris Frank of the Red Clay Ramblers, and the not-yet-famous Kevin Brock on drums. Work on the first Happyjoy Band album is underway, and several songs by the group are on A.C.'s album.

"What a privilege for me to be able to play with these people," A.C. says about the formation of the fourth band he belongs to. "When you're doing your list, wonderful things happen."

Although the procedure to remove the cancer was a total success, A.C. has had to undergo several additional surgeries since, due to complications that arose from the original operation. While they were frustrating and inconvenient, A.C. considers himself extremely lucky. "I'll probably have an MRI every six months for the rest of my life, and that's OK. I've become a believer in checking."

A.C.'s experience has reinforced his belief that while he can't control the circumstances that surround him, he has the choice to look at things in a way that gives him choices and peace inside. "I don't know what the future holds, but I'm having a wonderful time now," he says. "As far as music goes, I have no doubt at all that I'm doing just what I'm supposed to be doing."

(Chris Bushnell is A.C. Bushnell's son – Ed.)

Attached Files:

• A Song of Survival Reprint

This article by Philip VanVleck was originally published in the The Herald-Sun (Durham, North Carolina) on November 2, 2007.

Chapel Hill fiddler A.C. Bushnell’s new CD, “Dancing on the Water,” is a charming collection of songs that pays homage to traditional music. Four of the songs are Bushnell originals, and the remaining 10 tracks are either cover tunes or traditional songs.

Expect to hear a good bit of new and traditional music during Bushnell’s ArtsCenter show Saturday. He will celebrate the release of the new CD and accompanying DVD in a concert Saturday at the ArtsCenter in Carrboro.

The concert will be an ambitious collective effort. Joining Bushnell on stage will be his band mates from The Stillhouse Bottom Band; The Happyjoy Band, featuring Will McFarlane and Robert Sledge; Cluckin’ A; The Cluckeneers; mystic poet Grace; and musicians Richard Shulman, Andrea Nell and Jon Seskevich. Author and musician Bland Simpson will host this gala.

It’s only appropriate that Simpson is involved in Bushnell’s release party. In 1972 Bushnell left his home in New York City, hitched a ride with Simpson and relocated to North Carolina. He arrived in the Tar Heel state, fiddle in hand, at an opportune moment.

Bushnell prospered in North Carolina’s vibrant music scene, finding many like-minded musicians, digging into the Appalachian traditional music that echoes from Galax to Bristol to Chapel Hill.
Bushnell has become a no9te figure in the traditional music scene, most recently with The Stillhouse Bottom Band. He’s especially memorabl3 in concert, where he plays with high-voltage intensity.

Yet given the decades spent in the pursuit of old-time music, Bushnell had never made a solo album.

A report from a doctor spurred Bushnell to get into the studio. In June of 2005 he was driving in upstate New York with a friend. He checked his voice messages and had a message from his doctor, who asked him to call right away.

“So I called, and he mentioned that in my last blood testy I had a chemical marker for liver cancer,” Bushnell said. “I said, ‘Really?’”

Bushnell’s doctor replied, “Really.” While hoping the chemical marker was the result of a bad lab test, his doctor advised Bushnell to schedule an MRI as soon as possible, which he did.
“I really can’t describe what it feels like to hear this news,” Bushnell said. “I mean, with liver cancer, I’m figuring I’ve got three months to live? You know, nobody ever thinks they’re going to get cancer.”

Bushnell returned to North Carolina for his MRI, thinking about little else aside from getting cancer. The MRI procedure led to another phone call from his doctor informing him that he did indeed, have liver cancer.

“He said I had a tumor, and then said, ‘But we can cut it out.’ So I had about 35 percent of my liver removed on July 26, 2005. I just happen to remember the date.”

There’s nothing like a cancer diagnosis to propel a musician into a recording studio, he said.

“I thought, well, if I really only have a few months to live, what do I want to do with my time? I’ll make a list, and one of the things on that list was get in the studio and record.”

He described the sessions for “Dancing on the Water” as “joyous and happy.”

“The whole project turned out to be way more beautiful than I ever thought it would be, and that led me to think that everybody has a list, at least potentially, of what they’d like to do, where they’d really like to go, what would really fulfill them.”

“I think a lot of people, like me, aren’t doing their lists, thinking, ‘Oh well, I’ll do that some day.’ What some day! There’s only now. I think if you’re doing things on your list, God smiles on you and the universe is happy with you. In the end, what’s more important than that?”

The following article, by Ruth Eckles, was originally published in The Urban Hiker, January 2003.

If you love old-time music, mountain music, roots music, or blue grass — pure, raw, earthy music that conveys the joys and sorrows of being alive — chances are you’ve heard of the Stillhouse Bottom Band. This Chapel Hill group has been together for nearly three years and released two CDs, Bustin’ It Up and Hand Made, and has made its name as a standard-bearer for a traditional style that nevertheless puts its own stamp on the genre.

One of the driving forces behind the band is fiddler AC Bushnell. Bushnell isn’t your average old-time fiddle player. In fact, his fans have nicknamed him “the Jimi Hendrix of the fiddle” because of his reputation for getting carried away in the heat of the moment, playing up and down the neck of his instrument, improvising as he goes.

Mike Weems, who plays guitar and sings in the band, says, “Most old-time fiddlers stick strictly to the tune. With AC, it’s complete spontaneity; he goes anyway he feels like going. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t. He probably has the most unique fiddle style I’ve ever heard; two notes and you know it’s him.” Bandmate Bobb Head (bass/banjo/ mandolin) adds, “He definitely respects the old tunes, but he puts his own touch on it.”

Bushnell’s fire and contagious enthusiasm can radiate through a crowd. The Stillhouse Bottom Band is notorious for bringing down the house at their Carrboro ArtsCenter shows. “AC, when he’s playing on stage, will often get right up in your face to connect with you,” says the group’s fourth member, Alan Julich (banjo/bass/vocals).

“He’s a real positive-energy guy. When we play as a band, his energy becomes contagious. We play music that makes you feel that way.”

It’s not uncommon for Bushnell to go through four or five T-shirts when he’s playing a concert. “When I perform, I try to give everything I’ve got. I’m really giving them love,” Bushnell says of his relationship with audiences. “When they receive it, they send energy back. So it just becomes this kind of energy loop that uplifts everybody. And it’s just plain a whole lot of fun.”

Bushnell spent much of his youth in New York City and came to this area in 1970, when his interest in old-time music deepened and he wanted to be closer to its roots. I recently talked with him about growing up in the ’60s, learning to play in Greenwich Village, and the difference between bluegrass and old-time music.

Continue reading the entire article below.

Attached Files:

• Old-Time Revision from The Urban Hiker

The following article by Kirk Ross is from “The Mill”, a monthly supplement to The Carrboro Citizen published November 2007.

A.C. Bushnell has a story to tell and he is not inclined to wait. That’s been evident as he’s made the rounds talking to media and promoting a new record and a big show to celebrate it.

Yes, he’s proud of the new work and excited about the show, but what he really wants to get across is for you, too, to not wait around for life to happen.

The longtime fiddler, who has played with the Red Clay Ramblers and formed the Stillhouse Bottom Band, was faced with the prospect of a life cut short a couple of years back when he was diagnosed with liver cancer. He fought it and won, but knows, as so many cancer survivors know, that life is fragile, precious and brief. For A.C, even a moment on idle is too long.

Given a chance, thanks to a successful operation, he resolved to take up the projects he’s always wanted to try and to expand his music and horizons. Some of the results of that resolve can be witnessed on Saturday, Nov.3, when Bushnell is joined by 16 fellow musicians for a party at the ArtsCenter to celebrate the release of Dancing on the Water— a CD of wide-ranging collaborations. He’ll be joined on stage by The Stillhouse Bottom Band, his longtime bluegrass and old-time band mates (Bushnell’s home overlooks Stillhouse Bottom), as well as a powerhouse called the Happyjoy Band, which features Robert Sledge (of Ben Folds Five fame), guitarist Will McFarlane, drummer Kevin Brock and Bland Simpson, who’s been a friend since the two met in the Greenwich Village folk scene in the ‘60s. In fact, it was Simpson’s decision to head back to North Carolina that brought Bushnell to the area, and the longtime Red Clay Rambler will emcee the ArtsCenter show.

And while there will be plenty of old-time sounds at the show as well as rock and folk tunes, Bushnell and friends will reach even further back, adding ancient chants to the strings.

Dancing on the Water is more than a record, it is a promise fulfilled, and the lessons are woven in it by a man who has had a second chance. A.C. Bushnell has a story to tell, and he is not inclined to wait.