Round with a funny sound

Jan. 20—details

—Tony Furtado

—7:30 p.m. Saturday, Jan. 21

—San Miguel Chapel, 401 Old Santa Fe Trail

—Tickets $29

—southwestrootsmusic.org, holdmyticket.com

When Tony Furtado was assigned to research a musical instrument while in sixth grade, he knew quickly which one he'd pick. He didn't realize he'd be picking it the rest of his life.

Furtado enjoyed the sitcom The Beverly Hillbillies and was fascinated by its distinctive theme song, The Ballad of Jed Clampett, sung over a plucked banjo. He also regularly built balsa wood model airplanes with his father and knew he loved working with his hands.

"I just remember thinking, I'll take a pie tin with some paper on it and stretch it over the pie tin, put a stick on the rubber bands for frets, and use fishing strings for the strings," says the Portland, Oregon, resident. "I dreamt this up as [my teacher] was talking about it."

It was a pivotal moment for Furtado, 55, an artist knowne for both his music and his sculpture. His resulting research into the banjo further piqued his interest in the instrument, which he has since played on more than a dozen studio albums. He plays San Miguel Chapel on Saturday, Jan. 21.

"I found out it came from Africa and has this rich history of [being used in] a lot of different types of music," he says. "And it was weird. It was different. I grew up in the Bay Area, and no one else I knew played banjo."

Furtado got a real one on his next birthday and was hooked. He spent the rest of his teens playing and practicing. In 1987, when he was about 20, he tested his skills against the competition at the National Bluegrass Banjo Championship in Winfield, Kansas — and won, putting him on the national bluegrass radar. In 1991, Furtado won it again.

By then, he had released his debut album, Swamped, featuring five original tunes. That 1990 instrumental album was well-received, receiving a rating of 4.5 out of five stars on allmusic.com, but Furtado now describes it as more of an on-ramp than an official debut.

"Well, when I go back and listen to my very first album, which was a banjo album, I can easily place myself being that kid again — feeling I need to show everyone that I can play this kind of music," he says. "You know, I could write tunes on the banjo, and I was proud of it. I wanted to say all these things. But as far as making it sound like a cohesive statement, it was an exercise of an album."

If Furtado could speak to the 22-year-old version of himself, he'd preach perspective.

"I wish I could impart some lessons on that kid," he says. "Just try to be comfortable with where you're at, and have more of an artistic statement than a me-me-me statement."

By his 1992 sophomore album, Within Reach, Furtado was focusing less on finger acrobatics and more on his sound. That release features six originals, as well as a cover of the Beatles' "I Will," with vocals by bluegrass singer and instrumentalist Alison Krauss, who's won a Grammy 27 times.

Krauss is but one of many noted musicians he has worked with, and Furtado often takes the road less traveled while touring. He appreciates the perspective it provides, but the small towns — like Roswell, and Winnemucca, Nevada — are an adjustment for some of his companions.

"Over the years I have hired many world-famous, world-class musicians to play in my band," he says. "Most of them have never played many of the little towns that I have played in my career. It's pretty funny, and sometimes they would make comments like, 'You know, I count on playing with you, Tony, to find out about these funny little towns or these places.' Usually they're playing in big cities, you know, or primary markets."

Furtado is aware of San Miguel Chapel's deep history and says such venues can offer the perfect acoustics for a folk concert, without the need for a sound system to raise the decibel level. The previous night, he will play at Old San Ysidro Church in Corrales.

He knows to keep an open mind, regardless of a city's size. "Smaller gigs can be the most wonderful because the whole town comes out," he says. "They're buying CDs; they're so appreciative that you stopped in their town. I just played a show up in Hayward, Wisconsin, at this little tiny theater, and I didn't know what to expect. The place was packed, and I sold more merchandise at that show than I've sold at any show for years. It's just such a wonderful feeling. You come away just feeling like you're a king."

While his first album is considered pure bluegrass, subsequent releases have veered into blues, country, folk, and Celtic sounds. Furtado suspects he's pigeonholed as a result, losing out on invitations to major festivals dedicated to each of those genres.

"I was never really a jam band guy, but when I was doing fewer vocal songs, I definitely fell into that category," he says. "And a lot of the folks that came to my shows in the early 2000s, late 1990s, were jam folks. And when I kind of moved away from just the instrumental kind of dance-y stuff and I was doing more singer-songwriter or just more folk-based music, a lot of those gigs fell away."

Furtado says that when he's not making music or being a father, his hands are in clay. His physical art is nature-inspired, and he sells pieces along with CDs and other music memorabilia on his website. Among those advertised are miniature ceramic pigs, orcas, meerkats, and birds.

While music and sculpting might seem like unrelated talents, Furtado says there's plenty of connective tissue. He recalls his mother urging him to write songs in his early days playing banjo.

"I couldn't wrap my brain around the concept of writing lyrics and putting it to music and singing it myself — until it came time to do it," he says. "And when it came time to do it, I wanted to understand and use the English language more like the way I use clay to sculpt. Words are like colors or like clay."