Sometimes you hear something, as a long-time fan of a genre, that burns off cataracts and lets you see that genre - or even music itself - with new eyes. For me, Yasmin Williams' second album in early 2021, Urban Driftwood, was one of those bolt-from-the-blue moments.  

I've been a big fan of instrumental acoustic guitar-based music for almost as long as I've been a music fan, and I've been lucky enough to see some of the great living practitioners in person; from Christina Carter to Leo Kottke, James Blackshaw to Mathew Rolin, William Tyler to Julian Lage, Bill Frisell to Jack Rose. Urban Driftwood, and especially its title track, shook up every preconceived notion I had and made me engage with it on its own terms. She brings in elements of the go-go she grew up with in the DC area, the R&B she grew up listening to, heavy classical composition (as on the duet with cellist Taryn Wood, "Adrift," structured as a fugue), and influences on the folk/country axis into a fresh, new voice that's speaking as a black woman about the current moment and not caught up in some real or imagined nostalgia.  

And I wasn't alone. The record garnered raves from outlets high and low. The New York Times covered it with a feature where Grayson Haver Currin called her "one of the country’s most imaginative young solo guitarists." For Rolling Stone, Jonathan Bernstein called the final track "a hopeful gesture towards brighter tomorrows in the midst of suffering and strife." For No Depression, Laura Stanley called several songs "mighty, nourishing, and breathtaking entities." 

It sent me back to Williams' also excellent debut record, Unwind, and I got extremely excited for the Wexner Center performance booked soon after. COVID surges and a hand injury she spoke about with to NPR necessitated a delay, but she's finally coming to the Wexner Center's performance space, probably the best sounding room in town, at 8 pm on October 12 (tickets and more information here). I was lucky enough to talk to Williams by Zoom this week; the interview (edited for clarity and length) and some videos are below. If you have any interest in the highest example of where the guitar is now - and where it can go - do not miss this.

I saw it mentioned in some interviews that you started with electric guitar as a kid, but what led you to fingerstyle acoustic guitar?

I was 14 or 15 when I kind of made the switch over. Because I wasn't in a band or anything, electric guitar kind of ran its course for me a little bit. It's easier for me to play fuller arrangements on acoustic guitar as a soloist. I can do a lot more with it.

Was there ever any temptation to join a band, or did you always see yourself as a solo artist?

I was already playing clarinet in orchestral [settings], I'd been playing since the 3rd or 4th grade. So this was a thing for me. [And] especially, after I started getting serious about acoustic guitar, none of my friends were really into the music I was into and the ones who were? Like, we couldn't start a band together. So it was just easier to play solo.

Urban Driftwood has a real narrative arc, it's definitely a storytelling record, even though it's instrumental. Were the themes and the arc present as you started to write or did they reveal themselves as you wrote the songs?

I think it was always subconsciously there. But I wasn't really aware of it until the songs presented themselves. And after I had finished most of the songs, pretty late into the process, it became clear that, OK, this album is about this.

 It was probably after I finished "After the Storm," which was one of the last songs I finished writing, where it became really clear [it] was about a lot of things, but mainly about the black experience and just kind of living through the pandemic. What that meant for us as a country and what that meant specifically for people in the DC area where I live. It's about a lot of things, but especially those.

Where in the process did you write the title track? And When you finished it, did you know it was special?

It did [feel special], yes, mainly because it was the first song I'd ever thought to include someone else on. "Adrift" I wrote later. The feature, [percussionist] Amadou Kouyate, is a really close friend of mine and the song felt more personal to me. "Urban Driftwood" spoke to me in a different way. It's like an amalgamation of different genres. The Percussion, the drums and hand drums, all comes from West African music, which was super important to me. It also has a funky vibe in some aspects, which was music I grew up listening to for sure, like go-go.

 That song is the first song [of mine] to do that. It spelled out a new direction for my music that I wasn't consciously trying to go into, but after the song was finished out. I was like yeah, this should be the title track for sure. [It's] also pretty interesting because it's the first song where I didn't write the guitar part first, the kora came first.

Am I right that there's also kalimba on that track? You have such virtuosic technique on the guitar and Amadou Kouyate is obviously a phenomenal drummer. Was it important that you have instruments you play well but don't have that level of facility with interwoven into the track or were you just looking for the instrumental colors?

It was more the colors in the palette and timbres, definitely. And that's something that's definitely changed over time. I used to be very against playing instruments that I am not good at to my standards on any record. I thought it was silly, but now I'm opening myself up to [that]. Music is music, and to me, music is a lot about color; the kora has a very specific sound, and I wanted that sound. Amadou is also a master kora player, so I could have had him do it, but I thought it was important for me to play it and for him just to play drums because I wanted to learn kora.

Same thing with kalimba. I'm by no means a master kalimba player by any stretch of the imagination, but it's still a really fun instrument for me to play. And if music is not fun, then, you know, what's the point? So I try to spice things up a little bit.

That makes me think about the song "Jarabi," which also features a prominent kora part. That name and tune kept nagging at me, so I went to look it up, and I have a Toumani Diabaté record with at least a song by the same name.

 It's my spin on one of the kora standards and the first song I could play on the kora with any facility. I wanted to include it on the record for fun and also to see what I could do with the song. I've never heard a version of it with [other instrumentation]; it's always just a solo kora piece. I thought it would be really cool to include guitar and drums and switch it up. The song is super old so you know, why not make it something new?

 You said you wrote "Adrift" a little later, was that always intended for cello?

 I definitely wanted a cello and guitar duet. That was probably the only song where I was consciously aware of the instrumentation prior to composing it. Taryn [Wood] was my guitar teacher in High School. Well, "guitar teacher," I took guitar because I had a free class and I kind of helped her teach. She's a a really, really nice person and a friend so I asked her to do it and she sounds great.

There's some really interesting percussion on the record I was curious about. On "Dragonfly" at times it sounds like a hand drum and at times it sounds like metal hitting wood. On "Through The Woods" there are these splashes of what sounds like a vibraphone.

 I use tap shoes on "Dragonfly" and "Through the Woods." They sound bassier and more pronounced, I think. My engineer Jeff Gruber put reverb on them but it sounds like a delay so every time there's a tap, there's a second tap that's in time with the music. My hands are always busy but I like to have percussion in my songs. With an acoustic guitar, the taps were a way to add that which was doable while playing guitar.

 I can't remember the last time an instrumental guitar record captured the attention of so much of the cultural world - at least my music nerd world, but even outside of it: NPR, the New York TImes, the Washington Post. When you finished Urban Driftwood, did you think it would have the impact it's had?

No, there was no way I could have predicted that. I saw the score on Pitchfork, what, the night before it was released? And I just bawled. It was just crazy. Then all the subsequent press...no. I thought it was a good record and I was really proud of it. I figured some folks would like it.

 My main goal was to let my voice speak, and as long as I matured from Unwind, as long as there was some sense of maturity and growth as a player and as a composer, that was my main concern. I really appreciate everyone who listened to it and wrote about it; it's awesome.

Has there been any downside to that increased attention?

I can't say there has been. Of course, there's a lot more work, a ton of touring, and interviews, but I appreciate all of it. Some articles that got a lot of attention, like the New York Times article [meant] there are some haters in my DMs, but I don't really care.

How's that extensive touring been? Any challenges?

Since I like being home, I don't necessarily like being on the road all the time. But touring is really fun, especially now that I'm getting to know a lot of musicians. Seeing the same faces at festivals and meeting new people, and making new friends; that's been the most fun part. It's really expensive to be on the road, you know: flight costs, fuel costs, all of that sucks right now. but I can't really complain. I just got back from a tour last night. It's been a lot, but it's been really fun, and I hope it continues.

 I was struck by the NPR article you contributed to about injuries. So often, we expect musicians, like athletes, to suck it up, "play through the pain," or, even worse, hold it up like a badge of honor. That expectation of struggle.

Struggle has been a huge topic this year, especially with touring. A lot of artists [are] talking about, you know, losing money on tours and sleeping in vans. People will go on social media and be like, you know, you should be happy to sleep in a van. And that's ridiculous.

 But in terms of my injury, yeah, I injured my right thumb. Which is extremely important for how I play and it's tendinosis, so it's not fully gone; it's still healing. It's healed for the most part, but it doesn't feel the same as before the diagnosis. And yeah, people definitely expected me to play through the pain. I did that. For months. Until I physically couldn't play anymore, so I wouldn't recommend doing that. In hindsight, I should have taken a break sooner, and I wouldn't have [needed] that long of a break.

 Every musician I know has dealt with injury. Every musician I know has played - for sure - through it and some until they couldn't play anymore. It's not something that's discussed a lot, which I think should change.

 We would talk about this amongst ourselves mainly, but I talked a lot with my friends about injury and what they had gone through, and we would recommend people to go to, like surgeons and doctors. [After the article] it was nice to get a  dialogue happening with fans too, or not fans, but people who read the article, a lot of them are also musicians. We've dealt with injury, and it seemed to have started more of a dialogue.

 I'm so glad this has finally been rescheduled. Do you notice any difference in playing an Art Center like this versus playing a club? Do you change your approach, or do you notice the audience feels different?

 I'm really happy y'all could reschedule this. I definitely prefer performing arts spaces because people are there to listen. Typically the sound is great, and the audience is very engaged, which is always great. I feel like I like to talk to the audience more at these types of venues because I can. It definitely helps that I'm just more comfortable, and everyone is there for the show. I'm very excited for this show in particular because it's been a long time coming.

Richard Sanford is a Columbus native who writes about music, theater, and art for a variety of venues and is always trying to keep his ears and mind open.