Ismay uncovers a fascinating seldom heard recording of Lucinda from a radio show in 1981, leading them down a path to discover the musical influences in Lucinda’s early Life. Meeting with members of the Grammy Award-winning band Los Texmaniacs, Ismay goes out on a limb and seeks to recreate that radio session in the famed Cactus Cafe.
Produced in partnership with BGS and distributed through the BGS Podcast Network, Finding Lucinda expands on the themes of Ismay’s eponymous documentary film, exploring artistic influence, creative resilience, and the impact of Williams’ music. New episodes are released twice a month. Listen right here on BGS or wherever you get podcasts.
Finding Lucinda, the documentary film that inspired and instigated the podcast, is slated for release in the fall. Both the film and podcast showcase never-before-heard archival material, intimate conversations, and a visual journey through the literal and figurative landscapes that molded Lucinda’s songwriting.
Credits: Produced and mixed by Avery Hellman for Neanderthal Records, LLC. Music by Ismay. Final song by Los Cenzontles Cultural Academy “Libro Abierto (ft. Flaco Jimenez)” Artwork by Avery Hellman. Music Supervisor: Jonathan McHugh Austin, Texas recordings at The Cactus Cafe Sound recordist: Rodrigo Nino Producer: Liz McBee Director: Joel Fendelman Co-Director & Cinematographer: Rose Bush Special thanks to: Eugene Rodriguez, Matt Bizer, Mick Hellman, Chuck Prophet, Don Fierro, Jacqueline Sabec, Rosemary Carroll, Lucinda Williams & Tom Overby
Find more information on Finding Lucinda here. Find our full Finding Lucinda episode archive here.
Leading up to Father’s Day, we have memories of dear old Dad shared by award-winning bluegrass musician Gena Britt as well as singer-songwriter Maia Sharp. Mike Thomas adds a spiritual approach to his song about being a father to a kid having a rough patch. Meanwhile, Kyle Morgan and Tamar Korn cover a Gillian Welch favorite, and Special Consensus, Alison Brown, and Robbie Fulks put their own spin on a country classic, “King of the Road.” Snap to it because you gotta hear this!
Artist:Gena Britt Hometown: Star, North Carolina Song: “He Likes to Fish” Label: Mountain Home Music Company
In Their Words: “I lost my dad back in 2009 and my most cherished and vivid memories are of going fishing with him. I had this idea for a song and told my friend Katelyn Ingardia about it. It resonated with her too, and she agreed to co-write it with me. She met me in Nashville one weekend when I was doing an all-star show at the Station Inn. We sat down to write this song and it just started flowing out of us. We wrote it in just a little over an hour or so. There are so many poignant moments in this song, beginning with the opening line talking about dad’s Bronco…My dad actually had an old Bronco that we would take to the coast and fish on the surf. A childhood memory like that is unforgettable. When we finished writing it, Katelyn and I looked at each other and tears were streaming down both our faces. It was in that moment that I knew I had to record this song.
“I miss my dad. He was my best friend and we could talk about anything. I hope this tune will reach out and tug on some heartstrings like it did mine. Once we started recording it, it became even more special. Hearing something like this being brought to life in the studio by some of my favorite people was so heartwarming. Alan Bartram, Jason Carter, John Meador and Johnathan Dillon knew this song meant a lot to me and they helped me arrange it. It turned out beautifully, and I’m grateful to them all for taking such a heartfelt approach. The addition of Tony Creasman on drums and Jeff Partin’s incredible dobro work was icing on the cake. I love it when songs come from such an authentic place and tell a story, and I believe this one does just that. Oh, and I hope you like to fish.” – Gena Britt
Track Credits: Gena Britt – Lead vocal John Meador – Acoustic guitar, harmony vocal Alan Bartram – Upright bass, harmony vocal Jason Carter – Fiddle Jonathan Dillon – Mandolin Jeff Partin – Dobro Tony Creasman – Drums
Maia Sharp, “Tomboy”
Artist:Maia Sharp Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee Song: “Tomboy” Album:Tomboy Release Date: September 12, 2025 Label: Crooked Crown Music
In Their Words: I’ve always been a tomboy. Dad says when I was two years old I hit him square in the forehead with a handful of spaghetti from my highchair across the table. He adds, ‘You already had a good arm.’ It came in handy when I played in a local boys’ baseball league for years until music (and girls’ softball) started calling. Athletic, makeup adverse, not afraid to get dirty, seeing boys (then) and men (now) as peers: that’s what the word tomboy means to me. I feel lucky to be those things today but when I was a kid trying to figure out where I fit in, it was an unstable combination of awkwardness and fearlessness. I didn’t want to be a boy. I just liked the clothes that happened to be in their section of the store, the sports they got to play at school and the haircuts designated as theirs. I may or may not have brought a picture of Shaun Cassidy into Supercuts when I was six and said, ‘Like this, please.’
“These memories became a song when a writing day conversation with co-writer and friend Emily Kopp turned into a competition of who looked more like a boy when we were kids. We exchanged photos, a lot of laughter and a celebration of our younger, athletic, singular little selves. It felt good to be proud of something that, at the time, from the inside looking out, I wasn’t ready to be proud of sometimes. But from the vantage point of the grown-up tomboy, I can see now how strong and ruthlessly authentic it was.” — Maia Sharp
Track Credits: Witten by Maia Sharp & Emily Kopp Eric Darken – Percussion Teddie Collinz – Beatbox Will Honaker – Bass Maia Sharp – Guitars, keyboards, synths, BG vocals & additional percussion
Mike Thomas, “A Different Story”
Artist:Mike Thomas Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee (originally from Knoxville, Tennessee) Song: “A Different Story” Label: Diamond Hill Music
In Their Words: “It was an early Saturday morning in the summer of 2024. I hadn’t slept well the night before. One of our kids was going through a rough patch, and my wife and I were trying our best to help her get through it all. I headed out to the patio with my morning coffee to read a little scripture, and I started thinking about how God’s grace and mercy have shown up in my own life at exactly the right moments. I had this overwhelming feeling come over me that the same grace and mercy would show up for my child. I picked up a guitar, and ‘A Different Story’ came rather quickly. While I often weave spirituality into my songs, this one is different than anything I have released in the past. It’s a gospel-infused celebration of grace, redemption, and perseverance.” — Mike Thomas
Track Credits: Written by Mike Thomas Mike Thomas – Acoustic & electric guitar, vocal Joanna Cotten – Vocal Tres Sasser – Bass Sten Nisswandt – Drums Michael Webb – piano & organ Produced by Tres Sasser Engineered & Mixed by Joe Costa Mastered by Pete Lyman Recorded at Tresland Studios – Franklin, Tennessee
Kyle Morgan & Tamar Korn, “Everything Is Free”
Artists:Kyle Morgan & Tamar Korn Featuring Wyndham Baird Hometown: Brooklyn, New York Song: “Everything is Free” (written by Gillian Welch) Album:Darkening Green Release Date: August 15, 2025 Label: Jalopy Records
In Their Words: “Sifting through songs one day with our friend and cohort Wyndham Baird, he went into playing the emblematic Gillian Welch tune. As we found harmonies above Wyndham’s beautiful baritone, it was so satisfying that we begged him to record it with us. ‘Everything is Free’ is the working musician’s anthem, a digital-age dirge acknowledging, lamenting, and perhaps transcending the modern entanglement of music-making & monetization, creative expression & intellectual exploitation. As musicians and songwriters, movers & makers of sound & story, we live the conundrum & partake in the work of dealing spiritual currency within a materialist economy. Our sovereignty seems to lay in valuing & ‘listen[ing] to the words in [our] heads,’ regardless who’s paying… attention.” — Kyle Morgan & Tamar Korn
Track Credits: Kyle Morgan – Guitar, harmony vocals Tamar Korn – Tenor guitar, vocals (lead chorus) Wyndham Baird – Mandolin, lead vocals on verses Jared Engel – Upright bass
Special Consensus, “King of the Road” (Feat. Robbie Fulks)
Artist:Special Consensus Hometown: Chicago Song: “King of the Road” (Feat. Robbie Fulks) Album:Been All Around This World Release Date: June 20, 2025 Label: Compass Records
In Their Words: “This year is Special Consensus’ 50th anniversary. To celebrate, we invited six of our past lead singers to join us on a new album project. We came up with a list of songs with each of them in mind: some covers, a few new songs and a couple fan favorites from older records. Once we were together in the studio, we worked out each song around the coffee table with Alison [Brown, our producer], scratching out an arrangement on the spot before heading into the tracking room. As soon as we put on the headphones and got behind the mics, we felt a wonderful sense of joy to be making Special C music again together.
“In the middle of the two-week stretch of sessions while Robbie Fulks was in town, Alison spontaneously came up with the idea to try a version of ‘King of the Road.’ She thought it would be a perfect fit for Robbie to sing and, of course, he already knew it. Just a few minutes later, he was in the tracking room singing the song with Dan Eubanks playing the perfect bass lines – it was magical. We all jumped back in front of the mics and tracked the song: Greg Blake on harmony vocals, Ashby Frank on guitar, Brian McCarty and me copping the piano riffs on mandolin and banjo and all of us on the all-important finger snaps. I hope the thrill we felt making this music together comes through to the listener on this unplanned addition to the album!” – Greg Cahill, Special Consensus
Track Credits: Special Consensus featuring Robbie Fulks. Music produced by Alison Brown
Photo Credit: Mike Carter (Gena Britt); Emma-Lee Photography (Maia Sharp)
Fueled by a strong Midwestern work ethic, Hailey Whitters played the long game to earn her well-deserved spot in country music. From the time she moved to Nashville from Iowa in 2007, Whitters immersed herself in the city’s songwriting community while chipping away at her dream of being a recording artist.
It took about a decade, but her own songs found their way to Alan Jackson, Little Big Town, and Martina McBride, and she earned a GRAMMY nomination for Song of the Year as a co-writer on Alicia Keys and Brandi Carlile’s “A Beautiful Noise.” But her true breakthrough arrived in 2022 and 2023, when her platinum single “Everything She Ain’t” charmed small-town fans and country radio programmers alike.
After “Everything She Ain’t” eased off the charts, Whitters forged ahead on the road and returned to the studio to create Corn Queen, her first new album in three years. In a call with Good Country, Whitters chatted about working with Molly Tuttle on “Prodigal Daughter,” the influence of the Chicks, and how a childhood diary set the foundation for her as a songwriter.
Corn Queen kicks off with a song called “High on the Hog.” which seems like it’s based on a true story. What was on your mind as you were writing that?
Good lord. I mean, it feels pretty literal to me. I was in the middle of just burnout, probably. I was thick in heavy, heavy touring, sometimes being in the airport three times a day. I was watching my [follow-up] single at country radio fail miserably. It was such a whirlwind, but I remember just taking a minute to be like, “What on earth is going on here?” and having a moment of clarity. I’ve been in Nashville for 17 years now, and I’ve been on the road for over a decade. I got my first bus last year. It was this funny juxtaposition where everyone was thinking that I’d made it. I’d had this big single, and my whole family thought I was so famous! But if you saw that I slept on an airport floor last night and got ready in a gas station bathroom, you would be shocked by what is behind this curtain. I wanted to show that with this song. Outsiders might think this business and this job are really romantic. And I think it’s a grand illusion!
There’s a silver lining in that song, I think. Do you consider yourself an optimistic person?
I always say I’m a negligent optimist. I’m optimistic to a fault! I’ve really had to put on some reality glasses the last few years because I will always choose “glass half full.” I’m always going to look for the brighter side of things. But yeah, I got some good kicks in the rear end the last few years, and that shook me up a little bit. So wait, what’s the silver lining, though? I’m curious, the “high on the hog” line?
Yeah, I took it as, “Hey, despite everything, I’m still out here doing this thing.”
And that’s true, too. In the bigger picture, when I’m not pulling graveyard shifts in driving the van and breaking down and having my audio engineer leave at the border in Canada and getting thrown to the wind before opening for Tyler Childers… I think it’s a silver lining. It’s also a little like sarcasm. Like, I know I’m not supposed to complain, but I’m high on the hog out here! But ultimately, there’s been some really great moments and some really cool things that I’ve dreamt about my whole life. So, at the end of the day, this gig ain’t that bad.
Molly Tuttle is on this record, too, on “Prodigal Daughter.” How did you cross paths with her?
I think one of the first times we ever met each other, I want to say we were both singing at a Tim McGraw tribute show. I may have made that up, but we were both on the bill, and it was Basement East. I remember meeting her backstage and hearing her, and she’s phenomenal! She’s absolutely incredible. And we got set up to write during the pandemic. It was me, her and Lori McKenna, and we wrote maybe two or three songs. And I really, really loved it.
I listened to her and I listened to Billy Strings a ton during the pandemic. I always thought it would be cool to do something with her someday. She’s just an insane talent. Then I wrote this song, “Prodigal Daughter,” and it felt like more of a bluegrass, rootsy kind of vibe. And I thought, “I would love for Molly to do some picking and sing on this one.” And yeah, she played clawhammer! We went over to my engineer’s studio and it was freaking insane. She just blows my mind.
At what point did you become a bluegrass fan?
I think I always liked bluegrass. Bluegrass fans might think this is crazy, but probably my gateway drug was when the Chicks made the Home album, which was more of a bluegrass record. Then that turned me on to Alison Krauss & Union Station, and the early stuff from Ricky Skaggs and Keith Whitley. I have so much respect for that music. They’re so talented and I’m in complete awe. I feel like they come out as babies with an instrument in their hand and just know it up and down. To be so dedicated and devoted to your instrument like that, it really blows my mind.
Home was a landmark record for me, too. Living in Nashville this long, I think about that song “Heartbreak Town,” and how that really shows the way the music industry is here.
So good! [Written by] Darrell Scott, another great musician. And that record was the first time I got turned on to Patty Griffin, too, because of “Top of the World” and “Truth #2.” I grew up in a cornfield in the Midwest. There was no musical influence around me. My family is super blue-collar. Everyone’s digging dirt, or farming, and women are raising babies. The only musical influence I had was what I was hearing on the radio. I was a big country radio kid, and I remember when the Chicks put out that record. That’s the first time I thought, “I need to scratch the surface and dig a little deeper into some of these influences.”
If there’s one song from Home that you think somebody has to hear, which one would you pick?
If you’re wanting to be a songwriter or an artist in country music, I would probably say “Travelin’ Soldier.” That song is so well-written. Anyone can hear that and feel something. Bruce Robison wrote that song. There’s a certain magic to a songwriter who can sit down and write a song by himself. If you want to go deep, “Top of the World.” Even when I was a senior in high school, I was so blown away by that song. It really makes you reflect and think about your life. I remember seeing a Patty Griffin show at the Ryman a few years back, and I just sobbed in the pew to that song! It was a spiritual experience for me.
How did you pick up guitar? How did you learn how to play?
It’s funny, I got a diary one Christmas in 1994. I would have been five years old, barely knew how to write at that point, and I kept a diary. So I always wrote, for my whole life. In elementary school, my guidance counselor asked me what I wanted to do when I grow up. I was like, “I want to sing country music.” And he asked me, “Well, who are some of your favorite artists?” And I said, “The Chicks.” And he was like, “You know they write their own music, right?” And I said, “No! How do you do that?” And he told me, “You’ve got to get a guitar, you’ve got to learn some chords, and you’ve got to write some songs.” So that was when I started doing all that.
How did you make friends when you got to Nashville?
Actually I’m just leaving a breakfast with three of the first people I ever met in Nashville. We met back in 2007, and still to this day, they’re some of my closest friends. When I moved here, I went to Belmont University, and I met them there. We were all Miranda Lambert fans, and she was playing a show, so we all were talking about going to the show. We just always loved country music together. Especially when we first moved to town, we were so completely enamored by Nashville and the songwriting scene. Back when Nashville had showcases, we would go to three showcases a night. It was like, get out of class, get in my friend Lauren’s car, and go hit shows all night long.
On this record, I especially enjoyed “Hearsay.” It’s a love song, it’s funny, it’s got attitude, and a great hook, of course. Are there any moments or memories that stand out for you as that song was taking shape?
That song is about the Black Squirrel in my hometown, which is this little townie bar that’s been around forever. I remember going to see bands there, and they literally had chicken wire up to protect the bands. It’s that bar where you walk in with somebody that you’re not supposed to be with, and the whole town is going to be talking about it, and everyone’s going to know within an hour.
The song “DanceMor” is inspired by a place in your hometown, too, right?
DanceMor is the dance hall across the street from the Black Squirrel. It’s been around since the 1930s. My dad grew up going into it, my aunts and uncles, generations grew up throwing their boots on to go out line dancing and listening to country music. I always thought it was so cool. It closed for a minute when I was in high school, when it was undergoing different ownership, but I’d always wanted to go back and play it. It’s literally an eight-minute drive from my parents’ house. Everyone packs it out. We drank them out of beer last time. And everyone actually went across the street and started buying buckets and came back across the street and kept drinking. It’s such a sweet spot. I’m a big fan of old shit and protecting it and keeping it alive. There’s energy in those kinds of places that you can’t get in a new, polished venue. It’s kind of our little love song to the old dance floor ballroom.
I loved to hear the Wilder Blue singing on there. What did those guys add to the feel of that track?
I think they made the track. It needed those stacked harmonies, and they bring so much texture to all the different vocals and whatnot. They seemed to be a great fit for that. I met them on the Luke Combs tour last year, and they were so fun, and felt like brothers on the road. I listened to the record they did with Brent Cobb and I thought it was phenomenal. Then we got to tour together and play stadiums last year, and me and them, we’re at the bottom of the bill! We always went on early, then we went out in the parking lot and set up cornhole and made pickle margaritas and drank tequila and smoked cigs and played cornhole all night. I just hit it off with those guys.
There’s a message of encouragement in that song, too. You must have met a lot of little girls who look up to you. What do you like about having young fans?
It’s really cute. I mean, I used to be that girl. I remember getting on my dad’s shoulders in a cowboy hat and cowboy boots, reaching out and touching Ronnie Dunn’s hand when he’s on stage. I blame those early country concerts, because those were the moments where it felt larger than life, and you’re like, “I want to do that one day.” That’s really special to see girls like that holding up posters, or with the cowboy boots on, or wanting to get up and sing “Everything She Ain’t” with me. I egg it on. I think it’s great! And they can blame me when they’re twenty years into a ten-year town one day!
(Editor’s Note: Welcome to our Reissue series! For the next several weeks, Basic Folk is digging back into the archives and reposting some of our favorite episodes alongside new introductions commenting on what it’s like to listen back. Enjoy!)
Dar Williams, originally from Mount Kisco, New York, grew up in an era and a household where everyone was tearing down the old ways of doing things, and learning new ways of expressing themselves. For Williams this meant participating in theater and learning to play instruments. She attended Wesleyan University where she studied theater and religion. A deep engagement with matters of the heart and spirit continues to permeate her work today.
After college Dar found herself in Boston, immersed in the singer-songwriter scene. She wrote and released her album The Honesty Room, which changed everything. That album started her on a path to becoming a venerated performer in the folk space. She was on the original Lilith Fair lineup, which included too many musical legends to name here. It was a dream come true to talk with Dar about that experience, about what it might take for another Lilith Fair to happen, and about the current climate for women in the music industry.
Dar’s latest album, I’ll Meet You Here, was released on October 1, 2021. This beautiful collection of songs was mostly recorded pre-COVID, but then hit a number of road bumps on its way to release. It deals with time, acceptance, places, and small towns, topics about which Dar Williams is a master storyteller.
Artist:Jack Barksdale Hometown: Fort Worth, Texas Latest Album:Voices Personal nicknames (or rejected band names): Jack Attack, Jackal, Jackaroo, Jackadaisical
If you had to write a mission statement for your career, what would it be?
I’ve always loved songwriters who take the art form seriously and truly attempt to elevate it. I’ve always been a little disappointed by the number of songwriters I could find who fit into this label and standard. So I guess I’d like to become one of those artists for someone else. There seems to be a grace given to songwriters that isn’t extended to artists in other art forms, and I think that’s one of the reasons why “great” songwriters can be so scarce. I’d like to try to rid my art of any reliance on that grace. That’s at least a step in the right direction.
What other art forms – literature, film, dance, painting, etc. – inform your music?
I’ve been recently getting into the work of Bertolt Brecht. He was a great playwright in the first half of the 20th century. He had lots of interesting theories about how theater could be done and what purpose it served. I’ve been trying to think about songwriting in that same way, really considering the limits and the liberties, thinking about what songs can or should be doing and how to effectively achieve that.
Genre is dead (long live genre!), but how would you describe the genres and styles your music inhabits?
While I don’t think “genre is dead,” I sort of think it should be. It’s just a shortcut of human communication, and when it’s treated as anything more than that, it can be sort of damaging. The same is true for a lot of arbitrary distinctions like the idea of species, for example. Technically, every living organism to exist has been its own species, slightly different from any of its ancestors. I’m not quite sure how species that clone themselves fit into this – they may just be considered the same organism – but ultimately it doesn’t matter, it’s all just arbitrary titles and distinctions. I know that’s a crazy rant, but, keeping all of that in mind, I would say the most accurate “communicative shortcuts” that can describe my music on a macro level are folk, Americana, and singer-songwriter, along with some overtones of certain styles of blues, country, and rock.
What is a genre, album, artist, musician, or song that you adore that would surprise people?
Lately, I’ve really been loving Italian tarantella music as well as some Basque trikiti music. I love most kinds of folk music, especially folk dance music. I’m hesitant to say the word “traditional,” because that word often seems to be associated with the more polished, almost novelty, styles of folk music. That’s not really what I’m drawn to. I’m drawn to the things that speak to people and energize people and move people. I’m not as interested in the glorification and worship of the past simply because it’s the past. I may find some of these “traditional” things extremely insightful, provocative, and academically interesting, I just don’t often find the same energy and emotion that I find in “folk” music.
If you were a color, what shade would you be – and why?
Well, as Newton discovered a long time ago, white light is comprised of every color in the visible light spectrum combined. And I believe that no matter how frustrating or counterintuitive it is, the old saying is true – we contain multitudes. There may be some slight variations between us, but mostly, in metaphorical terms, I think we’re all pretty much shades of white light.
The Americana Music Association has announced the nominees for its 24th annual Americana Honors & Awards. This year’s nominations were revealed by Brandi Carlile, Kashus Culpepper, S.G. Goodman, Jim Lauderdale, Kacey Musgraves and Molly Tuttle in a social media announcement.
The winners will be announced during the Americana Honors & Awards on Wednesday, Sept. 10, 2025, at the historic Ryman Auditorium in Nashville. The celebrated program is the hallmark event of AMERICANAFEST, which returns for its 25th year on Sept. 9-13, 2025.
A full list of categories and nominees for the Americana Music Association’s 24th annual Americana Honors & Awards is below the video player.
ALBUM OF THE YEAR:
Lonesome Drifter, Charley Crockett; Produced by Charley Crockett & Shooter Jennings
Foxes in the Snow, Jason Isbell; Produced by Jason Isbell & Gena Johnson
Manning Fireworks, MJ Lenderman; Produced by Alex Farrar & MJ Lenderman
South of Here, Nathaniel Rateliff & The Night Sweats; Produced by Brad Cook
Woodland, Gillian Welch & David Rawlings; Produced by David Rawlings
ARTIST OF THE YEAR:
Charley Crockett
Sierra Ferrell
Joy Oladokun
Billy Strings
Waxahatchee
DUO/GROUP OF THE YEAR:
Julien Baker & TORRES
Dawes
Larkin Poe
The Mavericks
Gillian Welch & David Rawlings
EMERGING ACT OF THE YEAR:
Noeline Hofmann
MJ Lenderman
Medium Build
Maggie Rose
Jesse Welles
INSTRUMENTALIST OF THE YEAR:
Fred Eltringham
Alex Hargreaves
Megan Jane
Kaitlyn Raitz
Seth Taylor
SONG OF THE YEAR:
“Johnny Moonshine,” Maggie Antone; Written by Maggie Antone, Natalie Hemby & Aaron Raitiere
“Ancient Light,” I’m With Her; Written by Sarah Jarosz, Aoife O’Donovan & Sara Watkins
“Wristwatch,” MJ Lenderman; Written by MJ Lenderman
“Sunshine Getaway,” JD McPherson; Written by Page Burkum, JD McPherson & Jack Torrey
“Heartless,” Nathaniel Rateliff & The Night Sweats; Written by Nathaniel Rateliff
Photo Credits: Charley Crockett courtesy of the artist; Gillian Welch & David Rawlings by Alysse Gafkjen; Waxahatchee by Molly Matalon
When it comes to the rich, vibrant musical landscape that is American music, few bands have the sonic range, technical capabilities and curious prowess as that of Leftover Salmon — bluegrass to blues, country to Cajun, rock to roots, jazz to jam.
And it’s that jam element at the melodic core of Salmon. They jam under the cascading snowflakes atop a Colorado ski slope or with beads of sweat rolling down their faces in the backwoods of Florida. They jam early in the morning or way late into the night. They jam for massive crowds or simply for themselves. What matters most is the music and where it can take you, onstage and on the road.
Though Salmon is in the midst of its 35th anniversary celebration, the actual timeline goes back four decades, where, in 1985, a young guitarist named Vince Herman took off from West Virginia in search of the “mythical bluegrass scene” in Colorado.
His quest eventually led him to a bar in Boulder one night, the same evening a talented multi-instrumentalist, Drew Emmitt, was performing onstage in the Left Hand String Band. The sign on the door said “Live Bluegrass Music Tonight,” so Herman strolled in.
From there, the duo became inseparable, ultimately joining forces in 1989 to play a New Year’s Eve gig in Crested Butte under the name Leftover Salmon (a combination of Emmitt’s band moniker and Herman’s short-lived Colorado group The Salmon Heads).
With Salmon’s latest album, Let’s Party About It, the outfit once again rises to the occasion, providing soothing, feel-good tunes that radiate gratitude, graciousness, connectivity and compassion in a modern era of uncertainty, confusion and fear.
Backstage before a show in Asheville, North Carolina, Herman and Emmitt talked at length about the road to the here and now. In simplest terms, Leftover Salmon is currently riding a big wave of popularity and cultural importance — a high-water mark of its legend, lore and legacy.
What spurred you to go to Colorado in 1985?
Vince Herman: It was fall [in Morganton, West Virginia]. It was getting cold in this place I was living, which was in an attic of a house that we were remodeling. It didn’t have any heat. I went to college there [at the West Virginia University] and had six credits to go. I kind of ran out of motivation and it was getting cold. We just figured it was time to do something else.
Why Colorado?
Well, it was the bluegrass scene there. I was playing a lot of old-time and some bluegrass in West Virginia. And I knew there was a progressive bluegrass scene based around the Telluride Bluegrass Festival. The band Hot Rize was in Boulder, which was a major influence on me. So, I figured Boulder would have a good progressive bluegrass scene. And it sure did, proven by pulling up and seeing a “Live Bluegrass Music Tonight” sign [at a bar].
Did you drive across the country by yourself?
No, I came across with a guy named Lou Pritchard. There’s all kinds of Pritchards in the music business. He’s a teacher [now] in southern West Virginia. So, I threw the dice and sold a guitar to make the trip. We lived the first week in a storage shed. We rented it. It was a storage shed, but hell, it had power, you know? [Laughs] The plan was, “Let’s go to Colorado and see what happens.” Lou was thinking about starting a brewery because small breweries were just made legal. I ended up getting a job cooking in a restaurant and just playing tunes on the Boulder Mall. [Back in West Virginia], I was playing for free beer and somebody’s wallet, played a little bit in a Grateful Dead band called Nexus. But nothing professional in any way.
Were there aspirations to start a band and really give it a go?
Yeah, definitely. It was, “Go to Colorado and find like-minded players.” I didn’t know for sure whether I’d have a music career, but other things were totally unsatisfying. I’ve had a lot of jobs, man. I’ve been a cook, bartender, fisherman, roofer, painter, landscaper. I’ve done all the jobs you can imagine. But this is by far the best.
So, your first night in Boulder, the stars align. You walk in on a bluegrass jam and run into Drew, who’s been with you since that moment.
VH: Yeah, it’s been 40 years. I said hello [to Drew] that night and, I guess, it was probably six or nine months later I was in the Left Hand String Band. I did about a year there, and then they got a better guitar player. So, I started The Salmon Heads after I got kicked out of Left Hand. [Laughs]
You told me one time that if you tried out for Salmon now, you wouldn’t get in.
Oh, for sure. Definitely. My philosophy has always been to be the worst player in any band I’m in. So, it has served me well over the years. [Laughs]
So, New Year’s Eve 1989, you form Leftover Salmon.
We went through every combination of those two band names — Left Hand String Band and The Salmon Heads — and stuck with Leftover Salmon for the first night, never knowing it would be any more than one night of a gig [in Crested Butte]. The older the tune, the more the bluegrass stomp kind of thing would go on, people would slam dance. We were like, “Something’s good about this.” And we had a bunch of gigs the next morning. All the bar owners talked to each other. There was no plan [to form a group], but we got all those calls the next morning to book the band.
[Drew Emmitt enters the backstage area and sits down.]
What about for you, Drew? You and Vince have been together for 40 years. What was it about Vince that you felt this was a guy you wanted to play with?
Drew Emmitt: Well, I came from more of a bluegrass-serious kind of world. And I always loved the lightness that Vince always brought to the music, all the fun. Playing music with him was always fun, and singing with him. He’s got a very powerful voice. We both sing kind of loud, so we sing well together. The lightness and the fun factor — that’s what, in so many ways, has driven this band. It’s just always been fun. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been onstage just laughing hysterically because there’s so much madness going on.
I’ve been following you guys for almost 20 years and, no matter what kind of day your day is, you’ll always have fun at a Salmon show. And it seems, lately, that there’s a reinvigoration in the band, a few more logs being thrown on the fire.
VH: Absolutely. Jay Starling on keys, dobro and lap steel adds a great element to it, you know? And [drummer] Alwyn [Robinson] and [bassist] Greg [Garrison] together in the rhythm section. It just brings such energy to it. And Drew, [banjoist] Andy [Thorn] and I just get to ride on that stuff.
What is it about Drew that works for you?
VH: He’s relentless, man. (Turns to Emmitt). You hit that mandolin and just get that tremolo going — nobody like it. It sure gets a crowd riled up.
You have a new album out. What does it mean that people still believe in what the band is and what the band does?
VH: Hot Rize was a real major influence. I saw Tim [O’Brien] and was like, “Okay, so we’ll be in this little musical niche.” It’s never going to be the Rolling Stones or Pink Floyd level kind of stuff. But, it could be this niche that I could age in and stay in, and be able to do it for a long time. That’s kind of what the folk/bluegrass world looked like to me. I just feel very lucky to have kind of imagined that so many years ago, and to have actually lived it. It’s pretty unusual and I’m incredibly grateful.
What’s been the biggest takeaway from this journey thus far?
DE: The fact that people are still coming to see us. And it’s still working, and actually working better than it ever had. The fact that we can keep playing this and that it’s still relevant. And there’s this scene that has built up around this music. There’s a lot of different bands out there that are building the momentum, [with] probably the main driver of that would be our buddy, Billy Strings.
And you guys blazed a lot of that path Billy’s walking on.
DE: And we followed in a blazed path. We came up behind the people that blazed it for us. And then we contributed our part of it, which was maybe adding a little more rowdiness, a little more rock and roll. But, keeping with that progressive thing that we learned from Hot Rize, New Grass Revival, Nitty Gritty Dirt Band, Old & In the Way — bands that were pushing the limits of bluegrass. I love traditional bluegrass, but it’s so fun to take traditional bluegrass and do crazy stuff with it.
Traditional bluegrass gives you the tools to do whatever you want.
DE: Exactly. Because it’s an art form, and you’ve got to learn it if you want to play bluegrass, which I’m still working very hard at, trying to learn to how to do it. What this band has brought to the scene is a levity, a fun factor. Over the years, so many of these amazing musicians have sat in with us, and they always have such a good time because it’s just wide open. Like, for instance, when Sam Bush sits in with us, he has such a good time ‘cause we just let him go.
Is that by evolution or by design, that ethos?
VH: I guess it has a lot to do with the Grateful Dead. You know, really saying, “It’s okay to have fun with music.” Go out looking for stuff in the middle of a jam. It gave us permission to do that, and [the Dead] brought so many people to bluegrass.
DE: And I hope we can keep doing it for a while. I hope that I can keep looking across the stage and seeing Vince for a long time. I’m glad to still be onstage with this guy. [Turns to Herman]
VH: I just keep being reminded of the importance of community, and helping us all get by with this [music]. Thank God we have music in the midst of all this chaos [of modern society], something that brings people together under a positive banner, and reinforces the humanity in all of us — there ain’t nothing better than music to do that.
Editor’s Note: Don’t miss Leftover Salmon and so many other great artists on the BGS stage at Bourbon & Beyond 2025. More info at bourbonandbeyond.com.
Although she spent a decade living and playing music in Nashville, most notably as the bassist for bluegrass group Della Mae, Shelby Means is now settled in Charleston, South Carolina, where she says she appreciates being closer to her family and so much beautiful nature. Throughout a back porch Zoom call about her self-titled bluegrass album, she also praises her producer, Maya De Vitry, a fellow singer-songwriter and former bandmate of Means’s husband, Joel Timmons. To hear Means tell it, De Vitry helped her pull together the masterful band on the collection. The session players read like a who’s-who of bluegrass’ finest: Jerry Douglas, Billy Strings, Sam Bush, Molly Tuttle, Ronnie McCoury, Sam Grisman, Bryan Sutton, and on and on.
Granted, players such as these have a way of winding up in recording studios together. But rarely is the bass player at the mic, directing the traffic. So, to mark this rare occasion, BGS got Means on Zoom with bassist/songwriter/bandleader Bridget Kearney (Lake Street Dive, Joy Kills Sorrow), whose 2023 solo album Comeback Kid also had the bassist at the wheel.
When I see projects like yours, Shelby, I’m always interested in the community of it all. These folks play on a lot of people’s albums, but when somebody different is in the front, it shifts the vibe. It brings out something different. I hate to gender something like this, but there’s something different about feminine energy being out front, so I wanted to just start there.
Both of you have played in women-led projects. You’ve done solo stuff. You’ve backed up other people. And you’ve both been doing it a long time. What have you noticed about how the vibe changes, or how the community plays, when a woman is at the front?
Shelby Means: Well, Bridget, have you ever been the only woman in a band?
Bridget Kearney: Yes.
SM: I think I have, too. But when I was much younger. Then, when I moved to Nashville, it seemed like, even if the band was being led by a man, there was usually at least one other woman, which I found very useful and helpful. [There was] solidarity.
BK: Yeah, I feel like I’ve often been in bands that are a mix. Lake Street Dive is a mix, and Joy Kills Sorrow was a mix. So I guess the only thing I’ve never been in is an all-men band. I tend to like it when there’s a mix, when people are bringing all sorts of different perspectives into a band. When I’m putting a band together for a project, I’m always making sure I’m leaving all the possibilities open. I think that’s the most important thing: making sure everyone’s at least getting in the door to get interviewed.
SM: I think it’s super balanced when there’s men and women. It feels yin/yang. Like the whole thing is present.
Which is interesting, considering Della Mae is an all-women band. Do you feel like there was imbalance in that? Or like that’s just a whole different vibe.
SM: Yeah, it’s a whole different vibe. It was a great experience being part of an all-female band. We had some amazing opportunities because we only had women in the band. For example, going to Pakistan and being able to perform for colleges that were all women. It was some of those women’s first time ever seeing a [musical] performance … because they aren’t allowed to go out and see shows, especially unaccompanied. So those experiences were totally amazing and worth whatever it was that made it feel slightly imbalanced. … I’m very new to putting my own band together. But because I’ve enjoyed being in projects with a balance of male and female energy, I do kind of want to make sure that I get boys and girls, or however you identify. It doesn’t matter to me, you know.
Back to the community thing, though. I’m thinking about jams at festivals, and how bluegrass works. Somebody steps to the front and takes the solo and that kind of vibe is on this record. How did you feel to get to lead the band for the first time?
SM: It was amazing. And I want to give a lot of props to my producer, Maya De Vitry. When you think about her and I teaming up together, and calling Sam Bush, Jerry Douglas, Bryan Sutton, Ron Block—all the the big names on the record—and basically being in charge of them, that was something else. We respect them so much and look up to their music. … We’ve listened to that stuff growing up, so it’s really cool to be in a position of [directing] those cats. They totally respected Maya and me, and looked to us for direction like they were on the team. I remember Maya saying, before Day One, “Jerry Douglas is a human being. Ron Block is a human being. Maya De Vitry is a human being.” Like, we’re on the same playing field in the fact that we’re all humans. Obviously all of us feel nervous or scared at some point, so we can relate on those things and just take the pressure off a little bit.
We’re all in the folk roots, Americana, bluegrass, whatever you want to call it world, where everything is community-centric, and of course you’re touring all the time so you know people everywhere. But I think especially right now in the world, the idea of bringing people together with different skill sets to collaborate and make something beautiful feels really heavy and important. Heavy in a really good way. Do you feel like that is a priority to you, or does it feel more about just music and art for art’s sake?
SM: Well, they’re similar, those. I feel music for art’s sake is like music for the heart. I mean we have to [make music]. But it does help that we’re bringing people together. And hopefully people are gonna come out and see the show and we’ll have an experience at the show that can potentially transcend any sort of darkness or whatever it is that’s going on in each person’s [life] or the collective world. … I’ve had an experience recently where we’re watching a band. And just because I’ve had some grief and things going on in my life, it just was flowing. Like, I was crying and enjoying the concert. I was there feeling it with my bandmates, we were all together having a crybaby moment, letting our emotions go, and feeling safe in that environment to do that, which I think is very important.
BK: One hundred percent agree. I think the pause in live shows during COVID lockdown really highlighted that for me, because there was this long period where that wasn’t happening. The first time I went back to a music festival, the band that was playing before us was The War and Treaty. Same thing. I was just in tears, like this is so powerful. Their songs are so good. All these people came from far and wide, and they’re in the same place, and they’re singing along. It’s truly the most connective force that I see.
Both of you play bass, which requires you to be the support system for the band. I don’t know why it seems that upright bass is a male instrument more than other instruments. Maybe because it’s so big and it’s so low, and it’s harder to press the strings down. But can you talk a little bit about being, specifically, women bassists?
SM: We could probably talk for hours about that. It’s always fun whenever I get together with another bass player in general, because we often don’t [get together]. There’s many times where, if there’s somebody sitting in, it’s another fiddle player, another banjo player. Often another bass player isn’t asked to sit in, so we don’t get to hang out very frequently. But when we do, it’s really cool.
For me, growing up, my dad and my brother definitely enabled me. They would carry my bass around at jam sessions. At a certain point, when I was in high school and college, I had the gumption. I wanted to do it. I would carry the bass down the hall. I got one with backpack straps, so I would have to hunch over because the hotel halls are usually too short to fully stand upright and carry a bass on your back. You look like a little turtle. … I tried other instruments, but the bass was the one for me, despite its size and physical nature.
BK: For me, one thing that was influential with choosing the bass was that where were some examples in my life of women who played the bass. Actually, my first three bass teachers were women. There was an amazing bass player, Diana Gannett, who was teaching at the University of Iowa when I was growing up. She had a bunch of students who were undergrads or grad students that were in town, and those were the people that were accessible to take lessons from, when I was starting to play bass in junior high and high school. So that was lucky for me that it was just, like, normalized. I think that’s an important thing about representation on stage, making sure kids out there see versions of themselves doing all the jobs.
SM: Yeah, I don’t remember noticing any men playing the bass, but I remember the first woman that I saw playing the bass and thought I wanna do that. I think I can do that.
Let’s end with an easy question: What have you been listening to lately?
SM: I’ve been listening to some of the other new releases coming out. I’m With Her. And Leftover Salmon put out a record.
BK: MK.Gee and what else? I’ve been listening to some music from Morocco. It’s this Sufi Islamic healing music with this instrument that’s very similar to bass, called the gimbri. I did a semester abroad there in college and then was just back there recently for the first time since college. I’ve been getting into that music. It’s so cool.
Do you feel like that gets into what you’re writing?
BK: I think it definitely gets into the way that I play bass, because it’s an instrument that’s like the register of bass. It’s the only pitched instrument in the ensemble, so it’s extremely bass-forward music. It’s just this instrument and then percussion and singing, so the bass has this really central role. It’s very melodic and kind of percussive. Also, the front of the instrument is leather, so it’s kind of like a drum head. Sometimes you play a note with your finger but also use your other fingers to hit the drum. So you’re kind of playing bass and drum at the same time. That’s something I think very much influenced the way I play bass. Shelby, I’ll send you some.
SM: Yeah, send me some of that. That sounds awesome.
Photo Credit: Bridget Kearney by Rodneri; Shelby Means by Hunter McRae
Artist:Cat Terrones Hometown: San Pedro, California Latest Album:Shelter in Our Beauty
Personal nicknames (or rejected band names): Cat is the nickname my best friend as a kid gave me in junior high. It got lost in the shuffle for a while in college. I went back to Cathy, or Catherine, and for a time Ginger when I sang in blues bands. But I readopted it eventually. I thought, let’s make this simple. But also it’s just more fun and direct, and brings me back to a more essential spirit I like.
Which elements of nature do you spend the most time with and how do those impact your work?
My whole life I’ve spent a lot of time around the ocean. I think the ocean teaches you to respect depth, power, mystery, and wonder. It naturally encourages curiosity, while also helping you understand there’s always more you can’t know or see. I consider myself a pearl diver — but for songs. And there’s just certain passageways, dangers, challenges you understand you’ll have to deal with, if it’s going to be anything other than an easy surface level experience. Being okay with the unknown, open and curious to see what comes next.
The ocean has somehow also taught me about time, about energy waves, sound, imagination and being able to hold whole worlds in your imagination that you may never see, building worlds, building models. Then there’s the aspect of Mother Ocean; the impermanence, the movement, the immense creative waters of the earth, getting perspective, being able to zoom in and zoom out, that natural power can be intense. The deep presence to individual life being so precious and precarious, rare but also vast. It’s rare I write a song that doesn’t at least have a water reference, whether I leave it in the lyrics or not depends on how I think the song needs to stay connected to water.
What is a genre, album, artist, musician, or song that you adore that would surprise people?
The blues. I don’t consider myself a blues singer but for a while I was trying that on and learning from local blues musicians in Southern California. I love Koko Taylor’s song, “Voodoo Woman.” Sometimes I just need to put that track on and hear her shout and own that song. The horn riff on it is so funky. Also, Memphis Minnie. I found her music and guitar playing fascinating and enigmatic, even as the songs were pretty straightforward lyrically, as per the genre. She was a real original and an originator, and I appreciated that about her.
Which artist has influenced you the most … and how?
Sinead O’Connor. I was thirteen when her big song with Prince came out, “Nothing Compares 2 U.” I sat on the floor, cross legged and read the liner notes, discovering that she wrote almost all the other songs. I remember very clearly thinking the words, “I want to do that.” It took until almost graduating high school before I realized I could sing and write my own songs. I wanted to do what she was doing: telling stories, being vulnerable and singing the truth telling. So she’s who I learned that songs are where we can say whatever we need to; painfully true things, fleeting things, big emotions or stunningly small yet profound emotions.
What’s the toughest time you ever had writing a song?
I have a song on my previous EP called Josephine, and I’d say that song was probably the toughest to navigate writing. On the one hand, the emotion was very palpable, and I think I needed to write that song (I’m sure I did) to process some aspects of grief. But it was a really heavy song for me. It tells my own story and the story of someone in my community we lost. It’s about a family who tried everything but their daughter succumbed to a tragic accidental death that was preventable. At the start, I felt compelled to write a song celebrating the beauty of these women we lost. Instead what came out was a song about the grief, survivor’s guilt, and the sense of connection that goes beyond the physical world. How it feels when tragedy cleaves into our lives and communities and changes the fabric of our experience forever. I can’t say it was comforting writing it. But now it feels somehow grounding and cathartic for me when I sing it.
What would a perfect day as an artist and creator look like to you?
In the making of this album, I had many ideal days. Sitting down with a song, being in a natural environment, like near a river or the ocean or lots of trees, playing music, singing, letting a new song come through. Then a good healthful lunch with lots of fresh veggies and tea. Then another session of working on a song before cooking dinner with friends and watching the sunset. And then a song circle with songwriters gathering around a bonfire or running off to catch fireflies.
Photo Credit: Jo Babb
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