The Workman’s Way: Crafting Sound, One Note at a Time

It’s late in Oak City, Utah, and Jake Workman’s house is quiet. His kids are asleep. The room hums faintly from the last ring of an open-G chord. Guitars lean against the wall, their finish dulled by fingerprints and years of work. Workman is still at it — six, sometimes eight hours a day — chasing sound, chasing feel, chasing that invisible thing that makes one note matter more than another.

“Oh, thank you,” he says when told his playing “Rawhide” with Ricky Skaggs in a YouTube video is jaw-dropping. He’s humble, matter-of-fact. But when he starts to talk about the journey that brought him here, it’s clear there’s nothing casual about Jake Workman.

“I started on the guitar when I was 13,” Workman said. “But at the time, I didn’t even know what bluegrass music was. That would have been 2001, and at the time, I was into classic rock. Like my dad loved the Beatles, so I listen to the Beatles. And then I got into Boston and eventually Led Zeppelin, AC/DC, some of the harder eighties bands. And then a year and a half after I started playing guitar.”

“My parents got me a banjo and I thought it was a joke – what am I gonna do with this?” he laughed. “I don’t play bluegrass; I have no connection to bluegrass. I didn’t grow up picking with my grandpa, like a lot of people do, or whatever, and I didn’t have that. My family was a bunch of note-bound piano players, and they’re great, but classical music and whatnot, and everything they do is reading sheet music. I have no problem with that, but I was the odd one for sure. I also grew up out west, where I wasn’t really around bluegrass, so it was weird that I got a banjo, but my parents thought, ‘You took off on the guitar, what the heck?’ And then that was the gateway drug to bluegrass music.”

That gateway drug changed everything.

“I still play the banjo. I still teach it and would do more gigs on it if they ever came to me, but I’m not known for my banjo playing. I don’t play it and practice it as hard as I did at one time.”

What keeps him coming back to the banjo is the raw, physical joy of it. “I love the power that I have at that point. Like, the sheer volume, and the ability to have picks on separate three fingers versus one piece of plastic [for guitar]. That’s nice for speed and just being able to hang with a tune. The speed and the sheer volume and power, you don’t have to play as hard to still be heard. I love that…but if I’m playing by myself, I’d much rather be on a guitar.”

“The cool thing about bluegrass music is it’s so physically demanding and teaches you so much about how to attack an acoustic instrument, but also how to play against chord changes and whatnot. And I use everything that I’ve learned in bluegrass, in all these other genres, and it only helps. It only helps.”

From that discipline came the kind of clarity that would make him stand out in any lineup. In 2015, Ricky Skaggs called. Jake joined Kentucky Thunder, where every night was a master class.

“I was aware of things like rhythm that Ricky either did like about what I was doing –  he always let me know when he’s enjoying the groove – but also, and especially in the beginning, he would let me know a few things that I was doing that he wouldn’t prefer to be going on. And of course, he’s the boss, and I’m happy to also just study from his experience. My groove and my rhythm, just my rhythm awareness. … I became a better listener. And yeah, I became better by being around great musicians, and hearing the ‘isms’ of each instrument at the very top level. You pick up things.”

He learned to honor what he calls “the Kentucky Thunder code.”

 “For the Jake era of Kentucky Thunder, I wish we had a record to prove it. We got plenty of YouTube, but we never cut a record. I wish we did, but this is the Jake era. I don’t wanna sound like Brian [Sutton]. I don’t wanna sound like Cody [Kilby]. I love them to death, but I wanna sound like me.”

His time with Skaggs deepened not just his chops but his ear. “He always plays songs, not major, not minor, they’re in that modal in between Mountain minor kind of sounds where you have a major one chord, but you don’t always play the three, you don’t always make it obvious. And then the five chord is often minor, like a minor five chord, which you get in a mix of the Lydian world. And he’s not thinking deep like that. He’s just trusting his heart and his ears.”

That trust — intellect and instinct shaking hands — defines Workman’s philosophy. “Know your theory, but play from the gut,” he says later. It could be his credo.

“I don’t like to plan a record and say, I need tunes, so I’m gonna hurry and write ’ em. That’s just a recipe for cutting corners and not getting your best stuff out there. … If you allow that slow simmer, like from the writing to even the album artwork, don’t rush any piece of it so that it’s truly great and then you can release something epic that you’re proud of.”

That’s how Landmark came to be, and that’s how the next record — still uncut, but written — will arrive. “If you liked Landmark, you’ll like this one. I think my writing is even better.”

“The writing is deeper. I do think that my ears hear new things. I feel like the core progressions are a little cooler. I’ve got some cool arrangement ideas that aren’t just ‘oh, I’ll play A B B, and we’ll just trade solos the whole song. So far, the 10 tunes or so that I’ve got are all, I’m covering a wide range of keys, and I’m not using a capo on a single one of them.”

That challenge keeps him alive as a player. “Every key kind of gives me a vibe, so to speak. Open D can be really pretty, or it can be very bluesy. It depends, but I’ve written a couple in D — one of them’s more of the bluesy thing, one’s more of the pretty thing.”

Jazz, for him, sharpened the edges without forgetting the heart. “I had a lot of self-driven desire to understand music theory. So I showed up to school knowing a lot of things. I don’t care for ‘math music’ personally, but I think in general, jazz has a similar mindset as bluegrass, where you’re not wanting to be tethered to paper. You don’t wanna be tethered to sheet music or tab or anything. You want it to be in here and in the heart.”

And the groove, he says, is sacred. “We’re also trying to find this balance of tension and release. That’s the tension in jazz might be more extreme, and the release might still be a semi-colorful note in jazz. … In bluegrass, it’s the same concept of tension release.”

When talk turns to the modern jam-band scene, his response is honest and unfiltered. “I’m not into it, I don’t care for the Grateful Dead personally. I’ve never dug them. … I personally like traditional bluegrass. I don’t mind if guys are up there in suits around one mic. And singing from the Heart Vocal, three-part harmonies. Like I just, I love the Bluegrass, the true bluegrass thing.”

He pauses, then softens. “Billy Strings, for example, is a good friend and a great player, great musician, and I love what he’s doing. ’Cause I think he’s being true to himself. … If you can see that and feel that it’s good.”

Still, he warns, “I think there’s a lot of fakeness out there and a lot of seeking cheap thrills. … A light show and fog machine — if the music isn’t good first, I don’t care.”

These days, Jake is home more often, teaching from his studio in Utah. “Teaching, I love the interaction with people. I find a lot of joy in seeing people get excited about learning something. … Me teaching this stuff just makes me a better player. But I also think it’s just joyful, and I get to do it from right here.”

He’s found freedom in stability. “I can sit here and hold instruments that I would be holding anyway. Talk and think about stuff I would want to talk and think about anyway. It’s just a good gig.”

And like his name suggests, he works. “Yeah. I get after it, and if I get too much downtime, it stresses me out. [laughs] I’ve been practicing hard for so many years that fire lit when I was really young, and then it never went out. I’ll hold a guitar for six to eight hours a day, even to this day, if you let me and I have the time to do it.”

He laughs when told he’s got the perfect name for a blue-collar picker, like a character straight out of a Roger Miller song.

 “Yeah,” he says, “it’s a good name for the spot that I’ve landed in.”

So, in a quiet Utah town, Jake Workman still put in the work — a scholar of sound, a craftsman of groove, a stickler for authenticity, and a man who never quite puts the guitar down. But then, I mean, why would he?

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Jake Workman’s Bluegrass-to-Plain-English Glossary

1. Modal / Mode

A “mode” is a kind of musical scale that gives a tune its unique emotional flavor — bright, dark, or somewhere in between. When Jake says something is “modal,” he means it doesn’t sound completely major (happy) or minor (sad). It lives in that old-world, Appalachian in-between that makes bluegrass sound both ancient and alive.

2. Mixolydian

A mode often used in bluegrass, country, and rock. It sounds mostly major but has one lowered note — the flat seventh — which gives it that earthy, mountain tone. When Jake mentions “the Mixolydian world,” he’s talking about that raw, rootsy sound you hear in songs like “Old Joe Clark” or “Salt Creek.”

3. Lydian

A mode where one note (the fourth) is raised higher than in a standard major scale. It creates an open, floating, almost “glowing” sound. When Jake says “a mix of the Lydian world,” he means he hears hints of that airy, lifted feeling in some bluegrass melodies — particularly in Ricky Skaggs’ mountain-style tunes.

4. Flat Third / Flat Fifth / Flat Seventh

These describe notes that are slightly lower than in the major scale:

Flat third = gives a bluesy or melancholy tone.

Flat fifth = creates tension or grit.

Flat seventh = adds a folk or mountain feel.

When Jake lists these, he’s showing how bluegrass players create emotion through subtle dissonance — coloring the music rather than keeping it polished.

5. Tension and Release

The back-and-forth motion that gives music life. Tension occurs when the notes sound as if they need to resolve; release occurs when they finally do. Jake compares this to breathing — both bluegrass and jazz build emotion by moving between pressure and relief.

6. In Front of the Beat / Lying Back

These describe where a musician plays in time.

Front of the beat = slightly ahead, creating that driven, urgent bluegrass energy.

Lying back = slightly behind, giving a more relaxed or jazzy feel.

Jake switches between these depending on the song’s personality.

7. Open Tuning / Open Key

When the guitar’s strings, played without fretting, form a chord by themselves — like G or D. Open tunings let the guitar ring out more fully, giving specific keys a distinct mood. Jake experiments with open keys to find fresh sounds and ideas.

8. Flatpicking

A bluegrass guitar technique using a single pick to play fast, melodic lines. It’s precise and percussive, blending rhythm and melody at once. Jake is one of today’s leading flatpickers — a direct descendant of players like Tony Rice and Doc Watson.

9. Mountain Minor

A traditional Appalachian sound where melodies fall somewhere between major and minor. It gives songs a haunting, lonesome feel — part folk, part Celtic, entirely bluegrass. Jake calls it that “in-between mountain minor sound” that’s neither happy nor sad, just human.

12. Modal Run

A quick musical phrase that uses one of those alternate scales (modes) instead of the standard major scale. It adds spice and movement to a solo, like taking a familiar road with a few scenic turns.

13. Modal Keys (Open A, D, E, etc.)

When Jake says he’s writing tunes in open A, open D, or open E, he means he’s using the natural tuning of those keys — no capo — so each has its own color and ring. To him, every key has a “vibe” and a mood, just like a room has its own light.