Kelly Hunt: Fueled by Old Strings and the Stories They Carry
There’s a certain alchemy that happens when Kelly Hunt holds a century-old instrument. “I feel very protective of that instrument,” she said of her original Depression-era tenor banjo, its leather head delicate with age, “because that leather is a thin band of leather that is over a hundred years old.” The banjo is more than a tool for music—it is a collaborator, a vessel of untold stories, and, as Hunt put it, fuel for her imagination.
Hunt’s love for old instruments began with serendipity. While in Kansas City, she stumbled upon a 1920s tenor banjo that had purportedly belonged to a dog and pony show performer. She had only ever played five-string banjos, yet something about the tenor’s short neck and close frets “clicked” with her. It allowed her to explore intricate chords and unusual harmonies, feeding her songwriting in ways the five-string never had. Its warm, muted tone became her voice in recordings—but taking it on tour stirred anxiety, as if the instrument itself demanded reverence.
A second, mysterious tenor banjo entered her life shortly after. Identical to her first but fitted with a new head, it was perfect for touring, a companion to the fragile original. “It’s kind of a mysterious little tenor,” Hunt said, “but everything about them is completely identical… except for the head, which is in mint condition. It’s a better tour-grade banjo.” Alongside these, she acquired a clawhammer five-string from a consignment shop in Mountain View, Arkansas, the very town where her love of banjo was born.
Her instruments are steeped in history, yet they are also catalysts for invention. Hunt reflected, “There’s something about old instruments that taps into that part of my creativity. It sparks my imagination. I feel like I can collaborate with that instrument to come up with a story that could be true.” Regardless of exactly who first played her original tenor, Hunt breathes new life into its legacy, shaping songs that might have existed only in the echoes of the past.
Music runs deep in Hunt’s life. She grew up in Memphis, Tennessee, absorbing the city’s musical tapestry—from the soulful sermons of Al Green to the rock-and-roll echoes of Elvis and Johnny Cash. “There’s a musical climate to that place that you just absorb,” she said, crediting local radio and the city’s rich history for awakening her creative instincts. Later, her time in East Tennessee introduced her to the Scotch-Irish ballads and the banjo-fiddle traditions that shaped the Appalachian sound, deepening her roots in old-time music and informing her approach to songwriting.
Hunt’s first forays into composition were intuitive and kinesthetic. Writing poetry and songs was a natural extension of living. Piano lessons, she recalled, felt lifeless—reciting notes exactly as written never sparked her imagination. Instead, she sought freedom, exploring music on her own terms, learning to capture fleeting melodies before they vanished. This self-directed exploration gave her the tools to translate instinct into craft, whether on piano, banjo, or guitar.
“There’s a divinity in songwriting,” Hunt reflected. “Harmony, structure—they’re mathematical, like patterns in nature. But when I write, I try to bypass my analytical mind and enter a flow state. I let the song emerge, quirks and all. Then I step back and edit.” It’s a delicate balance between instinct and intellect, spontaneity and reflection, that has defined her artistry.
Hunt’s first guitar, a 1920s Sears catalog model, cemented her fascination with old instruments. “It has a lot of character. You can’t float up the neck and get clear notes easily, but what it does well—the warmth, the deep resonant woodiness—is extraordinary.” Together with her banjos, it represents a physical link to the past, a repository of stories and textures that inspire her music today.
Her musical journey is also shaped by movement and experimentation. Touring and collaboration have expanded her artistic horizons. “I like being on the move,” Hunt said. “I’m experimenting with different formats—solo performances, duo shows, full ensembles—and each offers a unique energy. It’s refreshing to reinterpret songs I’ve played for years.” This willingness to adapt, to challenge herself musically, keeps her art alive, preventing it from calcifying into repetition.
Ultimately, Hunt’s vision transcends performance. Music radiates out and touches many parts of her life—visual art, writing, philosophy. If she lost her voice or the use of her hands, she says, “there’s a creative nucleus inside me that can be expressed in other ways.” Her instruments, her songs, and her experiences are all threads in a larger tapestry, a life devoted to exploration, story, and resonance.
In her hands, a Depression-era banjo, a clawhammer five-string, and a 1920s guitar do more than sing. “They spark my imagination,” Hunt said. “I feel like I can collaborate with these instruments to come up with a story that could be true.” Each scratch and wear marks a journey that continues to unfold, whispering histories, conjuring new worlds, and reminding listeners that music, like memory, is alive with possibility.
Find more information here on Kelly’s website: https://www.kellyhuntmusic.com/
Enjoy our previous coverage here: REVIEW: Kelly Hunt’s “Even the Sparrow” is Infused With Energy
For story ideas and suggestions, Brian D’Ambrosio may be reached at dambrosiobrian@hotmail.com
