Good yodelling or a howl of mad exuberance?

You’ve played Bristol a few times now – what do you remember from previous gigs and what do you think of the city? 

My impression of Bristol may be skewed by the company I keep, but I always feel like I’ve woken up in a post-apocalyptic landscape populated by amnesiac, Vaudeville performers trying to piece together old song and dance routines from the evidence provided by scratchy 78’s and water-damaged photographs. Everybody wears tweed and the colour spectrum has been reduced to grey and brown. They’ve taken up residence in the dilapidated shell of an old cinema where, every night they hit the stage with their trombones and tap-shoes, and try to raise the ghosts of the past. It’s like a cross between Waiting for Godot and The Muppet Show.

You’re an obvious choice to book for a festival – do you approach festival gigs differently to regular gigs?

In my experience, the celebratory atmosphere of the average music festival is perfectly suited to my banjo songs about presidential assassinations, circus tent fires, and 19th-century industrial workplace catastrophes. I don’t see how I can lose.

Does your banjo have a name? How would you describe it?

In the shadow of Buckeye Mountain in Virginia, there live a man and a woman. She’s a blacksmith and old-time fiddler. He’s a luthier and antique, letterpress printmaker. Together they raise chickens, keep bees and surround themselves with art and music. This is the Buckeye Banjos Workshop and it is where my banjo comes from. Greg Galbreath built this instrument for me in 2010, and it is a sacred artefact: a black walnut and brass masterpiece. Buckeye Banjo #113.

What’s the secret to good yodelling?

My yodelling might more accurately be described as a howl of mad exuberance, who’s main purpose is to distract the audience from the inelegance of my banjo playing. I think the secret to good yodeling is to ignore my caterwauling and go listen to some Jimmie Rodgers recordings from the ’20’s.

Is there anything you can’t do, that you’d love to be able to do?

I’m currently trying to teach myself to play the saxophone. Not in that smooth, hot-tub jazz, style so common in New York City. I’m hoping to sound like a drunk teenager honking a car horn on a Detroit street corner in 1956. I think this may be what I was put on this earth to do. I’ll let you know how it pans out.

Tell us about the new cover artwork…

My latest album cover features an original Jamie B. Wolcott illustration of former, heavyweight boxing champion, Sonny Liston recast as the lead dancer in a lavish, Hollywood dance sequence. Ms. Wolcott is the wonderful artist responsible for all of my album covers, posters and t-shirts. We’ve been married for 23 years which is very convenient.

Who do you see as your peers in terms of musicians/performers?

Though a fairly straight song and dance man, I relate most strongly to the incurably weird performers who stubbornly haunt the shadows of the show business world. I’ve long shared an affinity with musical, mad scientist Thomas Truax, who’s mechanical backing band is comprised of old bicycle wheels, discarded heating ducts, and industrial coil-springs. There’s also a special place in my heart for Bristol’s own Boxcar Aldous Huxley, who I’ve described as a musical group from some grim future trying to figure out Broadway sounded like. I love them. They’re like the lunatics from the asylum I never ran.

How does history feature in your music?

I don’t know exactly when or why, but at some point a host of historical characters started sleeping in the streets of my songs. Abraham Lincoln showed up first, but was shortly followed Buster Keaton, Elvis Presley and Richard NIxon. Nowadays you can’t walk down the street without being harassed by washed up prize-fighters, faded Hollywood luminaries and crooked 19th-century politicians. Honestly, it’s become something of a nuisance.

Tell us something about you we won’t know…

Last fall a friend of mine in Oregon took me to a shooting range where I learned how to fire an AR15 assault rifle. I will not be armed when I visit England this summer.

See Curtis Eller’s American Circus live at Stag & Hounds on June 27. For more information and tickets, visit: www.curtiseller.com