One Fair Summer Evening…

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

My fifth grade teacher, after announcing pop quizzes, would, without fail, remind my panicked classmates and I sitting at our desks to “Look down in desperation, look up for inspiration, but do not look side-to-side for information.” A memorable way to keep ten-year-olds from cheating on each other’s exams. There’s something about the adage that’s stuck with me twenty-five years on.

To this day, if I’m feeling desperate or helpless, my head droops down, oftentimes collapsing into the palms of my hands. I still also look up for answers to the unanswerable, the unknowable, or as Mrs. Schock put it, for “inspiration.” Sat at my desk once again, reading about last month’s flooding in Texas on this country’s 249th birthday, my head automatically fell into my hands and, just as quickly, my eyes lifted their gaze upwards. Above my computer, nestled in the Napa Valley Wooden Cassette Rack, something caught my eye, the audio cassette of One Fair Summer Evening by Nanci Griffith.

The GRAMMY-winning “Lone Star State of Mind” singer landed like a raindrop into this world on July 6, 1953, in Seguin, Texas, a small town in Guadalupe County in the watershed of the Guadalupe River. Raised in Austin, Griffith achieved international attention following the release of her breakthrough 1986 album, The Last of The True Believers, that showcased her impressive singing and songwriting, which she had honed in the decade prior alongside the likes of her Hill Country contemporaries Townes Van Zandt and Lyle Lovett.

Griffith died on August 13, 2021, at the age of 68. Thirty-three years earlier, on August 19 and 20, 1988 – less than two months after that May’s blue moon – she recorded her sole live album, One Fair Summer Evening, at Anderson Fair, an intimate folk club in Houston. It’s a remarkable recording, not just for how good Griffith’s songs sound stripped of the instrumental flourishes that colored her studio albums up to that point, but the Texas charm she provides in the banter between songs.

While introducing “Trouble in The Fields,” she jokes self-deprecatingly, “Most of my mother’s family came from way out in West Texas in a little town called Lockney, which is somewhere close to Lubbock, but not too close to Lubbock. Nobody likes to be too close to Lubbock.”

The crowd laughs, hysterically.

She continues with her squeaky soliloquy, one long run-on sentence without much pause for breath, “My great aunt Nettie Mae said that surviving the Great Depression on a farm was not easy and she understands why the young farmers nowadays are having such a hard time, because she went through it herself and the dust blew so hard during the Great Depression on her farm that she said she was afraid to go to sleep at night, because she was afraid the dust would blow so hard one night that she’d wake up the next morning and find herself living in Oklahoma and she by God didn’t want to live in Oklahoma.”

The audience, cackling louder now and showering Griffith’s gift of gab with rounds of applause, quickly quiets themselves as Griffith shifts her tone and launches into the song about her family’s trials and tribulations being farmers in Texas during the Dust Bowl, singing the words: “And all this trouble in our fields/ If this rain can fall, these wounds can heal.”

Sometimes, we look up in desperation as well, for any precipitation the sky can offer us.

In the introduction to the next song, “The Wing and The Wheel,” Griffith tells her captive crowd, “There’s no need for any human being to ever be complacent.” The emotional whiplash might be too much to take, stark laughter swiftly shifting gears to deadpan seriousness, if the sincerity in the songs didn’t shine through with each passing line: “The wing and the wheel, they carry things away/ Whether it’s me that does the leavin’ or the love that flies away/ The moon outside my window looks so lonely tonight/ Oh, there’s a chunk out of its middle, big enough for an old fool to hide.”

Ten years later, in August 1998, Griffith’s relationship with her home state had become fraught. She wrote and sent letters to every major newspaper in Texas – the Dallas Morning News, the Houston and Austin Chronicles, the Austin-American Statesman, Texas Monthly – after a poor critical reception to her album Other Voices, Too (A Trip Back to Bountiful), released the month prior. In her letter, she defiantly rails, “There has always been a certain amount of pathos within artists who leave their sacred bountiful homes of birth for the benefit of preserving their own belief in their art—especially in cases such as my own where my native soil that I have so championed around this globe has done its best to choke whatever dignity I carried within me.” In the probing missive, she references Thomas Wolfe, whose own novels so severely damaged his reputation in his hometown of Asheville, North Carolina – which last year was decimated by the historic flooding of Hurricane Helene – he never returned.

The full moon in July is otherwise called a “Buck Moon,” named for the time of year the male deer’s antlers grow anew and hunters can track them more easily midday. This year, the Buck Moon swung across a fair, summer evening sky over Texas on July 12th, barely a week after the floods. That night Luke Borchelt, a country musician and singer-songwriter from Maryland, was seated at a bar in Austin. The night prior, he had performed at Parish, a club in the heart of the state’s capitol, right near where a Woolworth’s once stood at Sixth Street and Congress Ave. The very same shop Griffith sang about in her “Love at The Five and Dime” – and is pictured in front of on the album cover for The Last of The True Believers.

After striking up a conversation with a local patron at the bar, Borchelt was asked, “You’re a country singer? Could we do a concert tomorrow to raise money?” Borchelt agreed. So it often goes with Texans: forward, empathetic and community-oriented. Prior to becoming a full-time musician, Borchelt worked for Mercy Chefs, the Virginia-based, disaster relief non-profit.

“I managed logistics and the distribution of meals in disaster areas. That was my passion. It’s also where I got my musical start. After hours, I would play for the chefs. Disaster is a part of my story.”

As Borchelt recounts his journey, it sounds like a country song. There’s a rhythm to his speech that’s musical. He tells me “…there’s a stereotype of ‘badass’ Texans,” but in the wake of the floods, the “Every Rain” singer says, “I can’t say enough about the amount of people that showed up. We asked them ‘What brought you here?,’ and they would say, ‘I’m a Texan. We just show up.’”

After his performance in Austin, Borchelt headed to volunteer with Mercy Chefs, who had stationed themselves at a church in Kerrville to prepare and serve meals to evacuees, first responders, and search and rescue teams. Since the intense rains fell on July 4 in the central part of the state, 136 people lost their lives – 116 of which were lost in Kerr County.

In the flash flood’s waters, which crested at 30 feet, lay Camp Mystic – a girls’ summer camp situated alongside the banks of the Guadalupe River, northwest of Seguin. It was there that 27 people, counselors and campers, mostly children, died during one of the most tragic natural disasters in recent memory.

The six different flags that have waved over Texas throughout its history – some more star-spangled than others – have always flown over a proud people. When I speak to Mercy Chefs’ Ashbi Wilson, the managing chef on the deployment teams in Kerrville and Ingram, it’s no surprise she’s proud of her Texas roots. She lived in Kerrville for eight years before relocating southeast to her current home in Wimberley. At 21 years-old, before she became a chef, she spent a summer as a counselor at Camp Mystic, based on the recommendation of a professor at the local college, Schreiner University.

Regarding Camp Mystic she recalls, “Mystic is a really special place. Everybody was so warm and welcoming. Everybody was really just there to be encouraging and to have fun, and to help these girls, growing up to be young women.”

Hours before she got the call to deploy to Kerr County in early July, her bags were already packed. “It was a lot more personal this time, so I was ready to go,” she tells me. “Disasters are always both devastating and inspiring at the same time. So, even though there’s been so much heaviness and devastation around the lives and the places lost, it’s still really rewarding and inspiring to watch the community, and people from all over the state, and the first responders from all over the country and all over the world come in and do the work that’s needed.”

One Fair Summer Evening…

If these rains can fall, these wounds can heal.

— Nanci Griffith

Thousands of Texans called FEMA for assistance, and in the days following the torrential downpours, those calls were left unanswered, leaving recovery efforts largely in the hands of local authorities and volunteers. Firefighters from Mexico, a nation whose flag once flew over Texas, travelled north to Kerrville, and served a critical role in search and rescue operations. Earlier this month, after several Texas lawmakers fled the state in protest of a vote in the State Senate to gerrymander congressional districts along racial lines, one of their peers called upon a different federal agency, the FBI, to bring them back home. Is it any wonder why someone with such deep Texas roots as Nanci Griffith would disavow her home state?

Simultaneously, from where I write in Southern California, taqueros in East Los Angeles, farm workers in Camarillo, and day-laborers in the parking lots of Home Depots strewn across the city are being hunted like bucks at midday by armed and masked agents of the state, taken into federal custody to be deported to Tijuana, where there are now makeshift slums filled with deportees. In January, Mexican firefighters again headed north to volunteer to battle the blazes that burned across various pockets of the sprawling metropolis. Fire and I.C.E.

The desperation and helplessness one is inclined to feel while watching disasters both natural and unnatural unfold can be crippling. You don’t know how to do anything but languish in hopelessness and hang your head in shame, but as Wilson says, disasters can be both devastating and inspiring, no matter which way you look. Oftentimes, we turn to music to guide us through the dark and remove us from our solitude.

A live record gives its listener a glimpse into a communal space from afar, a moment captured crystalline and pure. Griffith’s One Fair Summer Evening served as my reminder that, not only in Texas, but everywhere a human draws breath, that “there’s no need for any human being to ever be complacent…” After all, “if these rains can fall, these wounds can heal.”

Donate to support flood relief in Texas by giving to the Community Foundation of the Texas Hill Country here. Learn more and support Mercy Chefs here.

Scans by Shane Greenberg, That Scans.

Hangover Terrace Shows There’s an Edge to Ron Sexsmith

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Now appearing in the role of nasty Bill Sikes in the musical Oliver! — Ron Sexsmith?

Well, not exactly. But Sexsmith had the character of Sikes in mind (specifically as played by Oliver Reed in the movie) when he wrote the original version of “Damn Well Please,” a jaunty, pointed highlight of his new album, Hangover Terrace.

The song was initially intended as part of a musical Sexsmith was creating based on Deer Life, a fairytale book he wrote and illustrated, that was published in 2017.

“There’s this villain character that was going to sing that song,” Sexsmith, a great fan of classic musical theater, says on a video chat with BGS from his home in Stratford, Ontario, Canada. “I just remember thinking how Oliver Reed played Bill Sikes. But he didn’t sing, because the director said as soon as the villain starts singing it takes away from his threatening element. And I thought that was smart.”

So, while he is still looking to bring the musical to the stage, he had put this song in a drawer. Eventually, though, he reworked it as a screed against what he sees as oversensitivity endemic to our era, with everyone so easily offended, and set it to perky Baroque-pop music and a tone bearing more than a shadow of classic Ray Davies.

“I refashioned the lyrics to be more about a kind of grumpy, bickering kind of thing,” he says. “Just because sometimes I’ll get mad or because [he and his wife Colleen Hixenbaugh] will bicker sometimes about my wine consumption. And I’ll be like, ‘I can have wine.’ Or whatever. And I just felt that it was fun to sing. We tried it out in a concert recently and it went over really big.”

Now, just in case you’re confused, yes, this is that Ron Sexsmith – Mr. Sensitive himself, Mr. Melancholy, Mr. “Secret Heart” (the first song on his first real album, 1995’s Ron Sexsmith, and arguably his most enduring and much-covered number). All vulnerable and romantic.

Yes, it’s him, the guy known for wearing his heart on his sleeve, weaving his feelings into stunningly indelible melodies sung with engaging understatement, all endearing him to fans throughout North America and Europe, earning him 15 Juno Awards (including eight as Canadian Songwriter of the Year) and a 2010 documentary, Love Shines. The guy who has been lavishly praised by countless fellow artists, notably among them Elvis Costello, Nick Lowe, Steve Earle, Daniel Lanois, and Feist.

That Ron Sexsmith is here, slinging arrows at people he sees as too sensitive. “I’m intent on poking the bear,” he sings.

“It’s just kind of a song about the culture we’re in now, there were a lot of people tip-toeing around and afraid to offend all the time,” he says of “Damn Well Please.” “And I think maybe we’re coming out of that a bit now. When I played it live, there were some people who came up afterwards and told me they found it really empowering.”

He laughs.

“I don’t want to empower the wrong people, though.”

The fact is, he is feeling empowered to show that edgy side a bit more. While there is plenty of the sensitivity, the romance, the explorations of heart on this, his 17th studio album in three decades, there are several songs that show this trait, lashing out some at matters both cultural and personal.

In “Camelot Towers,” another with a clear nod to his Kinks devotion in its sharp view and Baroque-pop tones, he expresses disgust at the proliferation of fancifully named housing projects that in reality are blights. In “Outside Looking In,” with Hixenbaugh chiming in as something of a Greek chorus, he suggests that “some friends should come with expiry dates.”

Mr. Costello, one of his biggest heroes and biggest fans (as a songwriter he has ranked Sexsmith with Paul McCartney and Tim Hardin), famously arrived in the punk era bearing the tag of “angry young man” before later evolving with great emotional nuance. Has Sexsmith gone the other way, from genteel young balladeer to, at 61, an angry, uh… mature man?

“I guess it’s better late than never,” he says, a wry smile and shrug tilting his country-gentleman hat and large wire-rim glasses.

“I mean, my earlier albums were more melancholy and kind of sad, just based on what was happening. But I had a song on [2004’s] Retriever called ‘Wishing Wells’ that was kind of angry. And I’m sure I could go and find those songs throughout my career. They exist before this. Maybe they don’t all exist in one place like on this album.”

Make no mistake: He still wears his heart on his sleeve. In fact, the opening line of “Easy For You to Say” is “I wear my heart is on my sleeve.” And the very first words of the album’s first song, “Don’t Lose Sight,” are “Hearts get broken,” sung with great vulnerability.

In other places there’s the romance of wistful, poignant nostalgia, as in “Cigarette and Cocktail,” a colorful portrait of the seemingly carefree life of earlier generations with “a cigarette in one hand and a cocktail in the other.”

“I wanted to express the full range of emotions, human emotions. I don’t want to be the master of one emotion, like some people do these days. ‘That’s the guy who writes all the sad songs,’ or ‘that’s the guy who writes all the ironic songs,’ you know. I want to be an actual human being.”

Hence Hangover Terrace spans from pastoral (“House of Love,” a lovely ballad with brass that’s an ode to “a dirty happy home” filled with play and laughter) to perky pop (“It’s Been a While,” his account of a reunion with his old bandmates, with “shades of our yesterdays” and ‘80s-ish Casio-like keyboard lines) to pumping power-chords (“Burgoyne Woods,” with a little spirit of the Who). Produced by Martin Terefe – who has worked with artists from James Blunt to Engelbert Humperdinck and produced three Sexsmith albums in the 2000s – at his bustling London studio complex, it features among its musicians former Pretenders/Paul McCartney guitarist Robbie McIntosh (he provided the Townshend-esque licks to “Burgoyne”) and keyboardist Ed Harcourt (a fine singer-songwriter in his own right). But for the variety, or because of it, there’s a flow, an arc – it’s not a big leap to imagine the album as being the tuneful bones of a musical or narrative song cycle.

“I think I could probably write a story where these songs would fit,” he says, noting that no one had mentioned that before. “In all my albums there is a document of a particular time or phase that I was going through. So definitely with this record it was coming off the heels of the pandemic and all that stuff. You could probably write a story. I don’t know if I’m the guy to do it. But yeah, I’m going to think about that.”

Much of this, he says, reflects the life he and Hixenbaugh have led since moving from Toronto to Stratford seven years ago. Especially the theater orientation.

“Stratford, where I live now, is an internationally renowned theater town,” he says. “People come here from all over to see the plays and musicals. Maggie Smith worked here, and Christopher Plummer. I really love the theater and feel we’ve landed in a kind of oasis. The world is going crazy and we’re going to plays and all. I can’t believe our luck that we ended up here.”

Even outside the theaters, in this Stratford, as that bard from the other Stratford put it, all the world’s a stage. The players there? Superb. And for this Canadian bard?

“It’s been inspiring,” he says. “We have a yard with all these critters running around, like rabbits and things. We had an owl. Didn’t have that in Toronto. I feel like Beatrix Potter or Huckleberry Finn. It’s a whole different way to live.”

That has also brought out a wistfulness that counters, or at least complements, some of the hotter feelings expressed. Take “Burgoyne Woods,” a look back to a time in his life when the world was open and the radio rocked.

“It’s a very nostalgic song for me,” he says. “Every song on this album has its own character and personality. Here, I like rock. I love The Who and all that stuff. I was trying to write that kind of thing they do. It’s about a time in my life with my high school friends and we’d just go on trips through the woods near our house.”

That was his hometown of St. Catherines, down near the Niagara Falls/Buffalo area.

“It was that free-range period where your parents don’t know what you’re doing,” he says. “You’re just out there and just, you know, doing things you shouldn’t do. And drinking.”

So sort of his “Cigarette and Cocktail.”

“Yes,” he says. “Exactly.”

Even in “Camelot Towers” Sexsmith has found himself considering the humanity within the walls of the eyesores. “I’m just noticing, I mean, obviously people live there and they make the most of it,” he says. “And my son [one of two adult children from a previous marriage] lives in a place like that. You walk the halls and you can hear the people or you smell the different foods that everyone’s cooking. I kind of get into that in the last verse. Everybody needs a home and a home is what you make it.”

So yeah. Mr. Sensitive hasn’t gone anywhere.

And how does he bring the curtain down on Hangover Terrace? Well, he’s sensitive there too. Several songs before the album’s close, in “Please Don’t Tell Me Why,” a buoyant folk-rocker reminiscent perhaps of the Beatles’ “I Will,” he lets us know what to expect, or not to expect. He’s all about cherishing the moment, relishing the life and love he’s built with Hixenbaugh, savoring the theater and the wildlife around their home, without looking down the road:

I don’t want to hear
Don’t want to know
The trouble that surrounds
The happiness we’ve found
Don’t want to see
The way our story ends

That might even bring a tear to Bill Sikes’ cold eyes.

Photo courtesy of Cooking Vinyl.

Sunny Sweeney’s Musical Full-Circle Moment

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Self-producing an album wasn’t something that Sunny Sweeney spent much time pondering – until it happened.

Rhinestone Requiem is the pinnacle of her taking charge, hoeing her own bean row, and flexing her self-determining vigor. It’s just the latest from an artist committed to exploring her imaginative energies on her terms.

“I’m happy with what we ended up with on this project,” said Sweeney. “We could just pay ourselves. Plus we only had to have two opinions [hers and co-producer Harley Husbands’] versus more opinions.”

“Our mentality going in was, ‘We know how to do this and we are going to try it and see what happens.’”

Rhinestone Requiem, released August 1, is pure Sweeney, sharing tales of figures who win hearts readily and whose outlaw lifestyles embody freedom from responsibility. There are songs devoted to romantic quests, the forever keeping on and the forever searching, like such richly rendered titles as “Traveling On” and “Diamonds and Divorce Decrees.”

Most of the album’s tracks are the result of Sweeney’s collaborations with several musicians she has been working with for a number of years. There are also two covers, “Find It Where I Can,” popularized by Jerry Lee Lewis, and “Last Hard Bible” by Sweeney’s friend and mentor Kasey Chambers.

Though she once saw the sharing of songwriting duties from a tentative and even negative point of view, Sweeney wholly embraced the notion of teamwork on Rhinestone Requiem.

“Songs were written with the rest of the people that I have known for a long, long time … I know what I’m going to get when I write with those people. They know their strengths and I know my strengths, and that’s why we continue to write together.

“I used to never collaborate,” she continued. “But now I’m co-writing and thinking this is awesome. I was petrified at first. Songwriting with others forces you to put down all of your worries. A lot of people worry about co-writing. But I see it as a double bonus thing. You hang out with friends and you get to work.”

Rhinestone Requiem is a throwback to Sweeney’s upbringing and all of the earliest things that have had a colossal effect on her: Her father’s records, which she had open access to; listening to Jerry Reed; watching The Dukes of Hazzard; processing the initial songs that jiggled her plaster loose.

Sweeney vividly recalls at age 8 hearing Jessi Colter’s “I’m Not Lisa,” a great example of one of her songwriting paradigms of setting mood and meaning.

“I sat and watched the record play,” said Sweeney, “I remember thinking she sounded really sad, but now I know what she’s talking about. I also remember hearing Jerry Reed’s ‘Amos Moses.’ I thought, man, what type of noise is this? I knew I needed to hear more of it in my life. Waylon Jennings’ ‘Good Ol’ Boys’ theme and I loved The Dukes of Hazzard. I told my mom that I wanted a son and was going to name him Bo and Luke Duke. I loved them both, those Duke boys, and I loved that Telecaster sound.”

The whole fictional gang of rural Hazzard County folks, Bo and Luke and Daisy Duke, mechanic Cooter Davenport, accident-prone though incorruptible deputy sheriff Enos Strate, and others, resembled the classmates, pals, and neighbors who Sweeney was raised with in the Texas countryside.

“Those were the kinds of people that existed in my life,” said Sweeney. “Country boys were dressed like that and they’d drive too fast down the street. I saw Daisy Duke and I wanted heels like that. Daisy Duke. Dolly Parton. Grease. Heels and lipstick. I had seen my future!”

Sweeney was born in Houston, but after her father decided that he no longer wanted to work in the family insurance business, he quit the agency and packed everyone and everything up and drove more than 200 miles north to Longview, where he’d grown up.

“I’m grateful for that small town,” said Sweeney. “I don’t know if I would have ended up in the music business if I wasn’t raised there. There were opportunities for small-town people and small-town interactions, which have shaped the way I feel musically.”

Indeed, the move to Longview would play a decisive role in Sweeney’s relationship with music. There was a low-watt country music station in the town of about 60,000 people featuring a succession of howling DJs who routinely tried to break the songs of lesser-known artists, allowed for call-ins, and welcomed conversations. Sweeney started listening in the third grade and calling in to request Conway Twitty.

After her parents’ divorce, Longview was also where her mother met Paul, the person who would become her stepfather – and, in hindsight, her biggest career influence. Paul and one of his brothers liked to twang the guitar. Nurturing and never hardhearted, Paul slowly and caringly taught Sweeney how to play the instrument. The first guitar that he gave to her was a black composite Martin, “a cheap, old, sentimental thing,” she said. She learned that her grandfather was a member of a big band orchestra. He played the trumpet, drank scotch, and chain-smoked cigarettes. She thought that he was the apex of cool. But the notion of becoming a musician as an occupation seemed, in her words, “far-fetched.” She asked Paul what he thought – and he merely grinned.

Years later, Sweeney, thinking about her stepdad’s tenderness, her grandfather’s stark sense of flair, and some of the songs and musical moments that touched her as a child, she re-examined her intentions.

“I had a college degree and I didn’t want to use it. I wanted to work for myself and wear jeans everyday and be my own boss. That was 20 years ago.”

Sweeney, now 48, lived in Austin for approximately 25 years, going through some precariously bony times, financially. She juggled other jobs while making barely enough to cover bills. At one point, strapped for cash, she pawned the original Martin that her stepdad had given to her. The Chaparral Lounge in South Austin was the very first place that Sweeney performed and several months elapsed before she would muster the courage to return to the stage a second time. That second performance took place in August 2004 at the Carousel Lounge on East 51st Street.

“There was a halfway house across the street and I was not that good,” she said. “My mom said that there were two or three minutes in between each song and lots of discussing how we were going to play it.”

Swiftly, however, Sweeney improved. “I threw myself into it 150 percent.”

She began hustling seven nights a week, performing wherever there was the potential of a free meal or the likelihood of even a single pair of listening ears. At grocery stores, perched on hay bales, in the rutted corners of falling apart parking lots. If the spot had electricity, she would play there. And if it didn’t, she would still sing, at any rate.

“Many nights I played outdoors without lights,” said Sweeney. “We had lights on a stick, two canister lights, before LED lights. At Poodle Dog Lounge, which was a staple in Austin – now Aristocrat Lounge – there was no stage. No credit card machine. No dance floor. There were some chairs, and you were three feet in front of that, standing there. I missed one or two Sundays in three years.”

At Poodle Dog Lounge, Sweeney played her set between 8 and 11 p.m., plenty of shuffles and polkas to satisfy the dancers. Her act was mostly covers, with the occasional original thrown in, hoping that the audience was too sauced or too ebullient to even notice.

Her rewards and incentives, she said, were comparatively picayune. “Eating for free was pretty cool. Not having to get up early. Maybe play at a couple of other nearby towns.”

Things were moving along satisfactorily, if not spectacularly, when she received a message on MySpace from a record producer who told her that he liked what he had heard out of her in a club in Austin one night. He was based in Nashville, and once he learned that Sweeney would be performing there, he showed up. Without delay he offered her a recording contract.

Since then, she has won over a sizable group of listeners with a repertoire of songs that are frank, discerning, and occasionally grief-stricken, teasing, provocative, and ultimately convincing.

@sunnysweeney New song from the new record! You ever tried to get away from a relationship that keeps sucking you back in? #sunnysweeney #countrymusic #foryourpage ♬ original sound – Sunny Sweeney

Co-producer Harley Husbands has worked with Sweeney for about 10 years, his guitar licks always craftily and reliably adding richness to their musical portraits. The pair are so joined at the hip that his contributions to Rhinestone Requiem are virtually indistinguishable from Sweeney’s, their palettes bleeding into a single piece of artistry.

“We live together and work and travel and play together,” said Sweeney. “That forces you to work well together in the studio. We’ve got no time to not work well together. Having a bad day? Too bad.”

Sweeney said that the vocals on the record are about as close to the authentic article as she could deliver, done without any polishing or cleansing or much enhancing. She credits Harley with being the ultimate arbiter, the most prized of assayers. He knows her voice better than anyone. If she didn’t sound right at a particular moment, he made sure to tell her so.

“I’d be in the vocal booth running through songs and he would be in the control room, knowing what I do like hearing out of myself… He knows what I like to hear. If he was not hearing me sing that way, he would know it perfectly. It’s as close to me knowing it on my own as possible.”

Her vocals on Rhinestone Requiem are firm, authoritative, and insightful enough to be considered some of her best work.

“It is not smushed down and compressed,” said Sweeney. “It is as close to sounding as they’ve sounded at the show. I don’t like it when you buy a record and put it on the turntable and it doesn’t sound like what you’ve just heard at a show. I like reaching the high end. It can be shrill. Either people love it or hate it. Harley’s job was mixing me and pulling out my significant sound and frequency, but without squishing what people are already used to hearing.”

By the way, a requiem, by definition, is an action or token of remembrance. It is a word that has generated a bit of droll reaction, Sweeney said. “Some guy just wrote on my page that we need to pick a word that we can pronounce. I laughed my ass off out loud. My sister said that we need to get those boys a dictionary!”

Nevertheless, it is a pleasing and easily engaging listen, whether to devotees or casual fans of clear-cut country. Out of the new songs, “Traveling On” and “Diamonds and Divorce Decrees” are receiving the largest number of spins.

“I hate having to pick songs to release as singles,” said Sweeney. “I think we should release all of the songs and let people pick themselves. There are a couple of deeper ones, like ‘Half Lit in 3/4 Time’ that I’m really liking. ‘As Long as There’s a Honky Tonk’ is going over well at gigs and live is getting a really good response.”

Indeed, the formula of Rhinestone Requiem is the same modus operandi of loving labor, mischievous candor, bittersweet humor, and resolute truthfulness. And it seems to be paying Sweeney impressive dividends.

“Years of wearing myself out and gigs and travel,” said Sweeney. “I’ve started to see people now at every single gig. It’s all starting to feel real now. We’ve been living with these songs for a year, and now other people are now hearing them. The excitement is building.”

Photo Credit: Nash Nouveau

You Gotta Hear This: New Music From Katie Boeck, Ben Garnett, and More

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

You’ve reached the end of the week and, for your reward, we’ve collected a superlative handful of brand new videos, visualizers, and songs from roots music spheres.

Kicking us off, actor and indie-folk singer-songwriter Katie Boeck puts yearning “almost-love” in the spotlight with “Dust.” It’s a lovely, contemplative track that showcases that Boeck is equally at home in indie-tinged Americana as she is on a Broadway stage. Continuing in a similar context, with tender harmonies and fingerpicking as a sound bed Canadian folk duo Ocie Elliott also consider the messy, uncertain, shifting sands of loving someone and the circular nature of giving of yourself to another in that most intimate way.

Guitarist and composer Ben Garnett announced his upcoming sophomore album earlier this week. Kite’s Keep arrives in October, heralded here with the first single, “Look Again,” and a live performance video of the bustling, prismatic track featuring Brittany Haas on fiddle and Ethan Jodziewicz on bass. It demonstrates the consistently thoughtful and outside-the-box approach Garnett takes in crafting solo acoustic guitar music that bridges jazz, bluegrass, new acoustic, and more.

The Far West, Los Angeles-based country strutters, tapped Dave Alvin as a guest for their brand new track, “Hope I Don’t Bleed.” Dropping next week on August 22, you can get a sneak preview of the vibing, psychedelic LA-canyons-via-swampy-bottoms tune below. And, wrapping us up, singer-songwriter Jon LaDeau draws inspiration from a long New York City to Bristol, Tennessee, drive with “East Tennessee Wrecker.” He’s joined by Emily Jackson on the new single and performance video, which features a lovely stripped down version of the track, unadorned and shining.

Whatever your favorite flavor of country, folk, and roots music, there’s something for you to enjoy herein. You Gotta Hear This!

Katie Boeck, “Dust”

Artist: Katie Boeck
Hometown: San Luis Obispo, California
Song: “Dust”
Release Date: August 15, 2025

In Their Words: “‘Dust’ came out of the ache of almost-love – the kind where someone lingers near your heart, but never fully arrives. I was thinking of the tortoise and the hare, but as a metaphor for emotional pacing between two people. It began as an ultimatum, but ended as an acceptance of what is – without clinging to what could’ve been. I recorded it with Shane Leonard (Anna Tivel, Humbird), a producer I’ve long admired, at his studio in Eau Claire, Wisconsin, live to tape, which was my first experience in that setting. Creatively, it was also an exercise in letting something be what it was in that moment, without all the modern temptations and expectations of perfection.” – Katie Boeck

Track Credits:
Katie Boeck – Vocals, guitars, songwriter
Joe Westerlund – Drums
Pat Keen – Bass
Paul Brandt – Keys
Shane Leonard – Drums, producer, mixing, mastering

Video Credit: Bella Mazzola, Twin Lantern Productions

Ocie Elliott, “By The Way”

Artist: Ocie Elliott
Hometown: Victoria, British Columbia, Canada
Song: “By The Way”
Album: Bungalow
Release Date: August 15, 2025 (single); October 24, 2025 (album)
Label: Nettwerk Music Group

In Their Words: “‘By The Way’ is a song about the beautiful mess of loving someone – choosing love not just in spite of challenging dynamics, but because of them. It’s a recognition that no matter how fleeting and uncertain the unfolding of a story may be, love is the constant that it always circles back to. The song was written after many months away on tour and it was one of the first melodies and chord progressions that came to me once I delved back into writing. Sometimes songs take a while to come into being, but this was one of those tunes that arrived almost fully formed.” – Jon Middleton

The Far West, “Hope I Don’t Bleed”

Artist: The Far West
Hometown: Los Angeles, California
Song: “Hope I Don’t Bleed” featuring Dave Alvin
Album: Everything We Thought We Wanted
Release Date: August 22, 2025 (single); September 26, 2025 (album)
Label: Blackbird Record Label

In Their Words: “I’d been kicking this one around for years, but could never find the arrangement I wanted to suit the lyrics. Aaron, Robert, and Brian really found the swampy vibe I couldn’t seem to. The bass puts this right in the pocket it needed to be, and having Dave Alvin tear a white-hot solo through it made it complete.

“Dave played this solo though my amp, which is a special little factoid for me. The amp is now blessed. My little Fender only has a volume and tone knob, and I used to tape the volume knob down at shows because the vibration of the amp would cause it to turn itself up as it rattled. I took the tape off in the studio. Dave likes things loud and either the amp turned itself up to 10 or he did, either way each take got louder.

“You can hear the amp being pressed to its absolute limit. I know he’s blown some bigger amps on stage, I was surprised my little amp survived. A few months after he laid down this solo, I saw him at the Astro Diner and mentioned we were listening back and ‘we think the amp turned itself up on you during the session’… he just looked at me and said, ‘No it didn’t.’ Anyway, this one is simply about being afraid of experiencing pain at death.” – Lee Briante

Ben Garnett, “Look Again”

Artist: Ben Garnett
Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee
Song: “Look Again”
Album: Kite’s Keep
Release Date: August 12, 2025 (single); October 10, 2025 (album)
Label: Padiddle Records

In Their Words: “‘Look Again’ is the first track on my sophomore studio album, Kite’s Keep. The album title loosely refers to this idea of a child’s inner world – a dreamscape where each song represents a different vignette of imagination.

“With ‘Look Again,’ I wanted the music to feel prismatic. As if to suggest an imaginative universe emerging from an ordinary one. I was interested in exploring, in musical terms, the idea that perception is never fixed. Like the old saying goes, ‘You never step in the same river twice’ – one also never sees the same thing twice. Any time we return to anything, it’s always different, with all things constantly in motion.

“On top of this, I had the immense joy of working with two musicians I deeply adore: Brittany Haas on fiddle and Ethan Jodziewicz on bass. Their performances brought the track to life in ways I couldn’t have imagined.” – Ben Garnett

Track Credits:
Ben Garnett – Guitar
Brittany Haas – Fiddle
Ethan Jodziewicz – Bass

Video Credits: Tessa Cokkinias – Cinematography
Ben Garnett – Video

Jon LaDeau, “East Tennessee Wrecker”

Artist: Jon LaDeau
Hometown: Brooklyn, New York
Song: “East Tennessee Wrecker” featuring Emily Jackson
Album: Chateau LaDeau
Release Date: August 22, 2025
Label: Adhyâropa Records

In Their Words: “‘East Tennessee Wrecker’ is a song that has been picking at me for a long time. Several years ago, I was traveling with my band from Brooklyn, NY to Bristol, TN to play at the Bristol Rhythm and Roots Reunion. It’s about a 10-hour drive and for some reason our navigation system was counting down the hours until we arrived at East Tennessee Wrecker. We didn’t know what that was, but discovered upon arriving in the area that it was a towing service that I believe has since changed names. For some reason that title got imprinted in my mind and as time went by the structure of a song began to reveal itself.

“I recorded the guitars, bass, and drums in my studio in Brooklyn and when the music felt right, I was lucky to have Emily Jackson come by and sing a duet with me to tie it all together. We sang together live into one mic and that’s what you hear on the album. I brought this version of the song to David Butler and he fleshed out the arrangement by adding a second drum set, a drum machine, and some sparse keyboard stuff. I’m really happy with how this one came out and I feel lucky that D. James Goodwin was available to really bring the performances we captured to their full sonic potential by mixing and mastering.

“At the heart of the song it’s really just acoustic guitar and vocals, so I wanted to capture a stripped down version as well. Aaron Cassara filmed Emily and I singing it at The Scratcher here in the East Village, NYC. I’ve been very fortunate to work out a lot of my songs here over the years during their Sunday night music series so it felt natural to capture a version of the song in the same way you would hear it live in a room that means so much to me. This song seems to reinforce the feelings of connection I have to my community. I hope that it lifts up anyone who gives it a listen.” – Jon LaDeau

Photo Credit: Katie Boeck by New Norm Studios; Ben Garnett by Natia Cinco.

Ragtag East Nash Grass Say We’re All God’s Children

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Featuring Harry Clark on mandolin, James Kee on guitar, fiddler Maddie Denton, bassist/Dobro player Jeff Partin, and Cory Walker on banjo, East Nash Grass began as ragtag group of pickers blowing off steam at a honky-tonk in Madison, Tennessee, just northeast of Nashville proper. It has always been a band open to both unusual ideas and committed to the classic form. Still, their new album, All God’s Children, takes the metaphorical cake.

After winning the 2024 IBMA Award for New Artist of the Year, touring internationally, and even making their co-headline debut at Nashville’s Ryman Auditorium, All God’s Children feels like a joyful tribute to the many ways life gets good – and to bluegrass’s many salt-of-the-earth styles. With skillful traditional picking and a focus on diversity (both thematically and in the band’s tendency to share the spotlight at center stage), East Nash Grass deliver a truly spirit-satisfying album. Just don’t let its name fool you – this ain’t gospel.

“I enjoyed that it’s a little bit of a misnomer,” says Kee, with a touch of mischief in his voice. “We are a fairly traditional bluegrass band and we do some gospel music, but … anybody who knows us would know pretty immediately, it’s not a gospel album. I kind of liked that it would make somebody who doesn’t know our music take a second look.”

Out August 22 and featuring everything from good-old fashioned traveling songs to a reimagined West African folk tune, All God’s Children celebrates the coming together of worlds. James, Harry, and Maddie spoke with BGS from a Montana tour stop and explained how they reached their universally minded creative crossroads.

What’s the vibe with you guys these days? The last few years have been a bit of a Cinderella story and you’ve done so well. How are you feeling creatively?

Harry Clark: We’re in road mode right now. I feel like we were in a real creative mode around December when we were finishing the album and you kind of have to go into a different mode for … “Alright, let’s get through three weeks on the road in a van.” That’s a different kind of mindset.

But going into the album process, was there no pressure to change the way you’ve been doing things in the past – just because now there’s been a little more success?

HC: I feel like there are just ideas and things that seem to exist that we want to bring into life. That’s how the creative process has been for us. I wouldn’t call it aimless, but we kind of just let it happen on its own in terms – what songs people are bringing in and what the mood of those are. It’s just recording a record. It’s kind of like seasons of your life.

This one has a little bit of everything. You’ve got some new songs, a couple covers, and even a [modified] Liberian chant. Was this just kind of a cross section of everything the band is into right now?

Maddie Denton: I think everybody’s been getting into different stuff on their own. And everybody’s writing with other people, while we’re writing together. So I guess “cross section” is a good word for it. We just wanted to put together some songs that we liked.

How about thematically? It’s called All God’s Children and you guys say very clearly this is not a gospel record, but it does have a spiritual element, right? What do you mean by that?

James Kee: We debated a couple different titles. I was afraid that this traditional bluegrass crowd would hear that [title] and assume it was gospel, which would be an issue. And then once I kind of sunk my teeth in, I actually thought that [song, “All God’s Children,”] was the heart of the album, and it just seemed like the right title.

All the songs on it are a good showing of different walks of life. It’s not just one thought for each song. It’s not about the same person throughout each song. It’s different short stories throughout the album. It kind of goes hand in hand with “all of God’s children,” because it’s a bunch of different things. Not just one.

MD: It also came about after we had done some international travel as a band. Some of us had been to other countries, but not with the band, and then in February of last year we went to Ireland and Switzerland with East Nash Grass and this record started falling into place after that. And then later in the year we went to France. I think we got inspired by seeing some different folks and ways of life than what we were used to. There’s a small element of world music inspiration behind the record, too. So I think that comes from just traveling more.

You have always been a very inclusive-minded band, while also sticking pretty close to traditional bluegrass roots. When you started at Dee’s [Country Cocktail Lounge], was that kind of the goal?

HC: I feel like that’s where we all came from individually. Each and every one of us grew up going to these lawn chair snapping festivals where you go up and they have the same bands every year and there’s people out watching the show in their lawn chairs – sometimes sleeping [like] they’re dead. But there’s also this killer community of jamming that happens at these festivals, and you go and you jam with people and you just learn the repertoire. You get together with people you haven’t even met before, but who’ve been in the same places, and you can just all kind of speak the same language.

We were able to take it from there. We all have that same background from our childhoods of going to these places and these shared experiences. So when we got together, it was like we had been doing it for a long time. But everyone’s got new ideas, new energy coming from other places musically as well. … I think we all pull from that individually and it comes out sounding like traditional bluegrass, but at the same time, not really at all.

After winning the IBMA New Artist of the Year award, do you feel like that is more accepted in the bluegrass community nowadays?

HC: It’s art and it has to move … so it just seemed like the time to do our own thing. The most important part is always the music. I hope it stands the test of time and somebody else listening can look back 20 years from now and say it was a good guidepost throughout the evolution of bluegrass music. That is most important to us, as opposed to trying to fit into a certain box that has just been built many, many times.

You all do a really good job of sharing the spotlight. Different singers, different featured instruments. From a friendship perspective, what’s it like watching your bandmates do their thing every night?

MD: Man, it’s pretty cool. Everybody is such a good musician and such a good singer. I mean, even Cory can sing a little bit – he just doesn’t like to do it and play banjo at the same time. Everyone has a little special unique thing that makes them stand out.

HC: For me personally, everyone has something they do really well that I just can’t do. And when I get to see ‘em do that, I’m in awe. It’s inspiring when someone crushes something right in front of your face and you’re like, “Man, I dunno how they do that every time.”

JK: Also anything that’s a win for one person in the band is a win for the whole band, and that’s kind of how we’ve looked at it. It’s like it’s the sum of all parts.

The reason I ask is because you made your headline debut at the Ryman Auditorium a couple of weeks ago. What was that night like?

HC: It’s hard to describe. It’s the Mother Church. It’s truly my favorite venue to see a show, and now play a show. There’s no time like the first time … and it’s just such an honor to be up there, have our name up there, and have our own little night there.

There’s only a few places where once I get on stage, it hits me where I’m at and what I’m doing, and then I focus in on everything so close, and that never helps me out. To touch on the question you asked prior to this, one of the best parts about this band is there’s been times where I felt like I didn’t play a great show personally, but the band probably played one of its best shows, because everyone can step up and pick up weight. It really pays off when that team spirit comes out, because I do feel like that night at the Ryman I got up there and was in my head – because of this place. But as a band, the band crushed it. Once again. It was a great feeling.

Tell me a little bit about the story behind “All God’s Children.” It’s got this warm and fuzzy bluegrass feeling and then you’ve got some joyful children noises in there too. Where’s all this coming from?

MD: Well, that’s our buddy David Grier’s son Nash Grier. Nash helped us out with those joyful children noises.

JK: Yeah, Nash is seven and he’s fluent in Japanese and English.

MD: And he can play – I mean, probably any instrument, but I’ve seen him play fiddle. He’s crazy good, so everybody keep their eye open for old Nash Grier. He’s coming for everybody’s jobs in Nashville.

HC: That was a song that me and Christian Ward and Cory Walker wrote and I kind of had that phrase in mind. The idea behind the song was loosely based on real life, but at the same time, it kind of has that old-time limerick thing where you can take whatever the words are and use your imagination to make ‘em what you want it to mean.

How about “Jump Through the Window.” Is this one the Liberian chant? I think it speaks to the way you made all these songs your own that I can’t necessarily tell.

MD: Yeah! Our tour manager and my best pal, Brenna MacMillan, she grew up with some siblings adopted from Liberia, and they knew this song, this chant. It was like a thing that the Liberian kids over there knew. … Brenna came to me with this idea of like, “Hey, there’s this chant that I grew up hearing with my siblings and I think it would be cool bluegrass. Can you help me with it?”

Everybody spent time learning it because it’s kind of a weird thing, but we arranged it and everybody had really nice ideas. I think Jeff had some ideas at the end for those chord substitutions, and it just came together really nicely. Then we brought Brenna in to sing some harmony on it. There’s the part where we all are singing unison together, so Brenna is on that. The engineer of the record, Jake Stargel, also hopped on a mic and joined us in the little chant part. And James was the town elder singing the bass part.

That speaks to the inclusive nature of a set called All God’s Children, which you have done a few times here. I just wonder, what do you hope listeners take away from this batch of music?

HC: A bunch of merch. [Laughs]

MD: There’s a peacefulness to me about this record, and that comes from having seen some of the world and singing about those experiences and connectedness. For me, this record, it’s like we had to pull together to make it, and I want it to reach different types of folks and everybody feel connected.

HC: I remember when I was a teenager, I’d played bluegrass for eight years and it was becoming more and more the forefront of my life. And when I would hear something that hit me as new or fresh, it inspired me to want to do something new and fresh, and get out of the box a little bit. I hope we can do that for other young musicians. It feels good when you see a young musician that you see a little bit of yourself in, who is inspired by what you’re doing. It kind of gives it a little more gravity, and you realize, “Oh, there is reason and purpose behind this just other than fulfilling that weird urge to create art.”

JK: And to that end, with all of us being lifelong bluegrassers, we know there’s a big contingent of folks that know all these same songs that we know and won’t get outside of that box, and that is okay. There’s no problem if that’s what you want to do as a musician, is to play those same songs for the rest of your life. But I feel like this is a statement that you don’t necessarily have to do that. You can use the same traditional instrument lineup and be a bluegrass band by all norms, and create something new and do some new music, and this is kind of our offering.

Watch our DelFest Sessions with East Nash Grass here.

Photo Credit: Scott Simontacchi

Bluegrass Gospel,
Arena-Style

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

This feature ought to start with a laundry list of our subject’s accomplishments, but rootsy country hitmaker Dierks Bentley’s résumé and inventory of accolades, awards, and trophies would be far too long to include. After 30+ years in Nashville, Bentley has more than made it and his particular brand of country – down-to-earth approachability, bro-ey (while remarkably non-toxic) good-time vibes, honeyed crackling vocals, an unwavering sense of humor, and fierce love for bluegrass virtuosity – has now gained such a strong gravitational pull, it continues to shift Music Row. (For the better, of course.)

In June, Bentley released his eleventh studio album, Broken Branches, and launched an eponymous continent-spanning tour with everybody’s favorite, fellow trad country lover Zach Top, and swampgrass North Georgia duo the Band Loula in tow. Broken Branches features guests like Miranda Lambert, Riley Green, John Anderson, and more and – like all of the albums in his expansive Dierkscography – quite a few string band- and bluegrass-inspired moments, as well.

The Broken Branches Tour, which has been clipped and shared thousands and thousands of times on social media over the past several weeks, includes many hits, striking sets and theatrical tech, cameos from the infamous Hot Country Knights, and, yes, plenty of bluegrass. On the set list, Bentley and Top duet on an incredible “Freeborn Man” – we’re leaving out spoilers here so you can catch the tour’s scant remaining dates yourself and still be delighted. Bentley also performs the title track from his hit bluegrass album, 2010’s Up On The Ridge, and Logan Simmons and Malachi Mills of The Band Loula join him elsewhere in the set for a delicious bit of church.

@thebandloula the broken branches tour is in fulll effectttt 🥹🤧 y’all come see us with @dierksbentley and @Zach Top ♬ original sound – The Band Loula

Singing a Bill Monroe bluegrass gospel number in tight, intricate three-part harmony may seem like an odd choice for a big mainstream country arena show, but longtime fans and listeners of Bentley will know this is no aberration. This is the norm. Whatever the sonics of his music, from the most poppy and radio-ready country to the more Americana-coded to straight-ahead bluegrass, classic rock, and New Orleans grooves (and back again), Bentley brings bluegrass with him everywhere he goes. He brings its pickers, legends, and unsung heroes, too, uplifting them for all to enjoy.

When Mills, Simmons, and Bentley step to the center stage of an enormous auditorium or amphitheater to sing “Get Down On Your Knees and Pray,” depicted behind them on towering LED screens is a little log cabin dive bar with a neon cross steeple and a flickering “open” sign. As they lead the audience in the stark, convicting, hair-raising number – with grit and heart and endless spirit – you realize, yes, this is church. This is gospel. This is country and bluegrass, front porch music and arena music. This is Saturday night and this is Sunday morning.

It’s hard to imagine all of these intricate roots music details not only being palpable in a show of this scale, but they’re also measured, vulnerable, and intimate – traits not known as hallmarks of either country or bluegrass. It’s here that we find exactly the conglomeration of reasons why Bentley retains such widespread appeal and adoration from fans of all entry points. While neither he nor any other artist is universally loved, Dierks Bentley accomplishes being the modern country “everyman” not by diluting himself and his personality beyond recognition, but by purposefully, creatively, hilariously – and spiritually! – putting all of himself on the line in his music.

Before the Broken Branches tour launched earlier this summer, Good Country sat down backstage with Dierks Bentley and the Band Loula during a break from tour rehearsals, after the trio had just run through “Get Down On Your Knees and Pray.” We spoke about what bluegrass means in a country context, the appeal of gospel to folks of any (or no) faith, tent revivals and camp meetings, the joys and vulnerabilities of singing harmony, and much more.

Obviously, Dierks, across your entire career you’ve had a relationship with bluegrass. And not just Up On The Ridge, which we just heard you rehearse a bit of for the Broken Branches Tour. You’ve got records and posters on the wall at the Station Inn here in Nashville, you namecheck Keith Whitley on the new album. You’ve worked with the McCourys over and over, Charlie Worsham, an excellent bluegrass picker, is in your band. There are so many more bluegrass touchpoints. Your bluegrassy CMA Awards show appearance last year was very popular with our audience.

And for y’all, the Band Loula, you call yourself “swampgrass.” The harmonies clearly have the grit and the gospel of bluegrass and the timbre of how your voices blend together reminds me of bluegrass.

It might be an obvious question to ask, but I figured we could go around the circle here and get each of your takes on what does the genre mean to you? What’s your relationship with bluegrass? What does bluegrass mean to you in the constellation of country music that you make now?

Dierks Bentley: When I think about bluegrass, obviously it’s the music and all that, but really it’s just people with acoustic instruments gathering to play and sing together. I never really did a lot of stints on my own, solo. Probably I’m not good enough, but bar gigs where I was just doing cover songs never really interested me. I always liked being in a band. I love the way this instrument talks to that instrument, this voice talks to that voice, and this voice gets added and– “Whoa!”

Like the Osborne Brothers, they’re switching harmonies. Sonny is singing the high tenor, then the next thing you know, he is on like a low baritone part. The voices, the way they move around. That’s the main thing, that’s what drew me in when I walked into the Station. And there were guys my age. I always thought bluegrass was kinda like Hee Haw stuff. I walked in and I was like, “Oh my God, there’s guys my age.”

It was about just playing songs together. And they were doing a lot of Merle Haggard songs, George Jones songs mixed in. Johnny Cash songs mixed in with Stanley Brothers, the Osborne Brothers, and all that too. So it was just, “Wow.”

It’s more about the community of people congregating through and with their instruments. And using those to have fun – and drinks as well. [Laughs] Lotsa drinks, a lot of moonshine back then. The real stuff! No label on it.

Not 30 proof. [Laughs]

DB: That’s what it means to me and that’s what I hear in [The Band Loula’s] music, a lot of, if you want to call it, “front porch” picking music. Picking their roots – you know, deep, Southern gospel-y kind of roots, the mixing of that, and those voices together.

That’s what bluegrass has always been to me. It’s about the community as much as it is about the instrumentation and the bands. It’s the great community of people.

(L to R): Logan Simmons and Malachi Mills (of the Band Loula) confer with Dierks Bentley during rehearsals for the Broken Branches Tour. Photo by Zach Belcher.

Logan Simmons: I’ll say something that comes top of mind for me. I spent my whole life going to tent revivals. It’s not just, “I go and it’s summer camp, ’cause somebody made me.” It’s like the pinnacle of who I am.

I really believe that it’s the pillar of my family. We go for about 10 to 15 days every year. It’s beside my nanny’s house, and all it is, red-back hymns and bluegrass. The service happens every night and you go for about an hour and a half before service starts, before preaching starts, to hear bluegrass, gospel bands.

That’s how I learned harmonies, hearing all my godmothers and aunts sing the wrong ones around me. [Laughs] And you’ll hear somebody over there, Linda’s like [sings operatically and off-tune] and she’s not on it at all. But I was at least learning something and I feel like with my roots in general, it already infused that bluegrass sound into my life.

Then when Malachi and I became friends and started making music together. He has a lot of Motown roots. I think, blended together, the blues and bluegrass just made something beautiful. And, on top of that, the family harmony we have together. We’ve been friends forever, half our lives.

Malachi Mills: It all comes back to blues, yeah. And just like you said, that cross-pollination of the different genres. North Georgia is like the southern point of Appalachia. Like she said, it really influences the music we make by our harmonies. That’s the biggest thing we take from it. I love bluegrass music, but I’m not like a bluegrass buff. I would lose at bluegrass trivia. [Laughs] But it’s just in our bones and in the harmonies that she was talking about. Growing up in church and everything influences the way that we sing together and the notes that we pick whenever we’re singing harmonies. One of the biggest things that I love about bluegrass is the rhythm and pocket. And the intonation of the instruments. Bluegrass players choose to be intentional about [all of] it, the pocket, the timing, the tuning. It’s all so dead on. The details matter when you’re making records.

Dierks Bentley and band give Good Country and members of the media an exclusive sneak peek at their Broken Branches Tour set at rehearsals in May 2025 in Nashville. Photo by Zach Belcher.

I think that’s one of the reasons why it’s striking that y’all have this bluegrass song as part of this big, arena-sized stage show. Because for me, translating those details in such a big space and in such a broad format could be really hard.

Then I hear and see y’all singing in three parts with a neon cross behind you and suddenly yes, this is church. This is what it is. Any close-singing harmony vocals are great, but when it really sounds like bluegrass to me is when you can hear the reeds of your voices match up when you’re harmonizing. That was a really beautiful moment.

Could you talk a little bit about capturing those details for a big audience in big rooms like this – or even outside, in amphitheaters. How do you take a Bill Monroe gospel song and translate it to that space?

DB: Well, there’s “Bluegrass” Ben Helson out there walking the hallways. Ben and a couple other guys in the band have played with Ricky Skaggs. Ben played with Ricky and Tim [Sergent] still plays with Ricky. I always say, if you can graduate from the Ricky Skaggs school of bluegrass and country music, you’re probably a pretty good musician. He also played with Rhonda Vincent.

I’m a big Del McCoury fan. They did [“Get Down on Your Knees and Pray”] and Del has such a cool version of it. We were just kinda thinking of songs to do with these guys that would be great using their voices. Like [they] said, they’re the blues and bluegrass. I’m still trying to figure out their sound. It’s such a unique mixture; it’s so Americana in the way that in this country we have this melting pot of stuff. We thought it would be cool to do a little three-part thing, so that one came up.

Marty Stuart also did a really cool version of that song. But Ben [Helson], our guitar player really came up with that [arrangement], leaning into the swampy stuff they do. Gave it that feel, a little Southern – I don’t know what the vibe is there, but that telecaster is playing and it just has a cool kind of dirty, bluesy vibe to it. Then working up the harmonies, there’s just something about hearing a cappella bands.

I remember seeing Billy Strings at a bluegrass festival years ago and the band all stopped – no one knew who he was back then. Bryan Sutton had told me who he was, so I was where he was. He played like a Thursday set in the middle of the day. They had just done three songs and then they stopped and did a four-part harmony thing. There’s just something about it that’s so powerful. It goes straight to your soul.

The oldest version of entertainment there was was probably harmonizing. Finding people, seeing how your voices sound together, it’s a weird, cool thing. Singers talk about it all the time, in any genre of music about how seeing how we sound together is an intimate thing.

It’s vulnerable and it’s immediately establishing that community that you’re talking about. “We may not be a band, but now we’re a thing.”

DB: I feel like I blend well with anybody, because I’m like the condition. I sing it pretty straight here and allow the people around me to really do their stuff. I’m just gonna hold the line. There’s like nothing special about my voice, but it’s good to blend with ’cause other people have these amazing voices. They can do a lot of movement and a lot of great vibrato. I’m like the dumbest Del McCoury School of Bluegrass [student], just find that note and put everything into it. [Laughs]

Not to mention, introducing people to bluegrass as well – I love that. You have a chance to be a bridge to your heroes and that is always fun. People have been that to me, Marty Stuart probably the biggest. You get into Marty Stuart’s music and you find out who he likes, and then, whoa! He brings you back there. So [I hope] this turns somebody onto Bill Monroe. That’s pretty cool.

Dierks Bentley has a quiet moment on stage during rehearsals for the Broken Branches Tour. Photo by Zach Belcher.

Country – a lot like blues, R&B, and the early days of rock and roll – it has this often tempestuous and inspiring relationship between the fun of Saturday night and the conviction of Sunday morning. So seeing y’all sing that song in front of the depiction of a church as a dive bar, complete with a neon cross and a flickering “open” sign – to me that’s “a little bit holy water, a little bit Burning Man” epitomized. You guys are embodying that relationship between the sacred and the secular here. And that duality is all over your new album, too, Dierks.

MM: I’ll say, I think that one of the biggest things that contributes to that is the goosebump, hair-standing-up-on-your-arm feeling. It’s knowing that you have a part in something and whenever you sing and play bluegrass music together, you have to give way to one another on stage. So it’s the whole stage saying we’re doing this very intentionally in unity, in harmony.

And everybody in the crowd, whether they know that or not, they feel it. That’s what I think people feel. Even if you’re not a believer and maybe the message that’s being said [doesn’t apply], but you still resonate with serving each other. With being present, which is a strong energy. I think that’s what makes me excited about playing this song. I don’t know what’s gonna happen emotionally for me whenever that moment happens, ’cause it’s gonna be so much of that unified energy.

DB: Unified energy is a good way of putting it. It’s unified and it really is energy.

We’re pretty involved with the church. I have an older daughter who’s involved in the church and another middle daughter who doesn’t believe it like I did. But there’s something divine that you just can’t ignore, whether you believe it or not – just look at a sunset, look at a flower, look at a fish, look at so much unnecessary beauty in the world. There’s just some energy that exists and you can’t deny it when you sing a song like this. It just taps [something] on anybody. Recognizing how small you are in this world and the power of whatever version of prayer you do.

LS: I liked how you said it joins secular and holy together and that actually made me think of the tent revival, as well. I think growing up in Appalachia, like Malachi said – I wish I could just teleport you there so you could experience!

DB: That would be cool, a tent revival – I can’t even imagine.

I haven’t been to a camp meeting or revival in so long!

LS: Everybody’s invited to camp meeting. I don’t know if you’d love it. Our tent – I say tent, it’s like a shack on a square, it’s like a big square, four sides. So we’ll say, “Are you on the upper line or the lower line?” We’re on the upper line, which is not a good thing. It’s like you think upper line is like uppity people or something, but it’s not. Our shack is the oldest and [most] untouched of the whole campground. It was built in 1846.

DB: Wow!

LS: So there’s holes in the roof and like, my bunk bed, I get water drops on my head if it rains. There’s hay floors, there’s no air, and there’s a lot of us, so it’s all packed in there. But camp meeting is where I learned my first Bible verses and where I smoked my first joint. [Laughs] So it all marries together how you said, like holy and secular at the same time. I think of that picture of going to the gospel tent revival, going to camp meeting, singing those red-back hymns, doing all those things – but then also learning the grit of growing up.

I just loved when you said joining those things together, because that was such a representation of my upbringing. Yeah, it’s a little bit holy water, a little bit Burning Man. It’s definitely Saturday nights and Sunday mornings – and the tent revival is where I feel like those two worlds are so evident.

Dierks, in all you’ve done across your career there are all these bluegrass moments. The country that you “grow,” it’s mainstream, it’s radio-ready, but it’s like there’s bluegrass in the “soil” you grow it in, so you can always taste bluegrass in everything you do. Like on the new record, “Never You” with Miranda Lambert feels that way and “For As Long As I Can Remember”–

DB: There’s a little “Circles Around Me” by Sam Bush [reference] there at the top of that song.

Oh my gosh, yeah! Exactly what I’m talking about.

You said a little bit earlier turning people onto your heroes always feels great, but for you, from your own perspective being that guy that used to just hang out at the Station Inn and now being the Dierks Bentley and going on tour in sheds and arenas and amphitheaters… Why do you keep bluegrass with you?

Dierks Bentley: It is selfish in a lot of ways. I have such a great band and I just take so much joy watching them do cool stuff that I can’t do. It’s like our guitar player, Ben, he’s just an unbelievable flat picker. Charlie Worsham’s in our band and Charlie won the CMA Musician of the Year. He is just an incredible musician. Dan [Hochhalter] is an incredible fiddle player. Tim is so underutilized. Our steel guitar player – who plays banjo and everything else – he’s one of the best singers to me. Hearing him is like hearing Merle Haggard. He sings like nobody else, but he’s also so underutilized. And Steve’s been playing with me since 1999.

It’s just a great group and we love bluegrass music, featuring that, and having the music part of the show. I like being in a band setting, so just getting to be around it and hear these instruments swirling around me playing, I think it’s just cool.

I got a chance to play ROMP Festival last year and I feel lucky to be friends with guys like Jerry Douglas and Sierra Hull and have them come up on stage and play with us. I still think bluegrass music is the punk rock of country. It’s just the coolest genre of music there is.

It’s gotta be centering or grounding to a certain degree just to have that as something you can go back to, to feed yourself and fill yourself back up even while you’re touring.

DB: Absolutely. In the show we go from playing Tony Rice to John Michael Montgomery. We play bluegrass with the Hot Country Knights with costumes on. It’s just it’s all very selfish! It’s like, “How can I have a lot of fun in the next 90 minutes?”

I wanna do our radio country. I want people singing songs back, because that’s a great feeling. I want to get a little bluegrass in there. Just see if we get away with that. Then, can we try to get canceled on the way out? [Laughs] I dunno. It’s really fun for me. And having these guys [out with us] and getting to harmonize with them, it’s gonna be really fun. Check back in a few months, see how it turned out.

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All photos by Zach Belcher.

Dierkscography

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

In 1994, a not yet 20-year-old Dierks Bentley threw all caution to the wind when he packed up his dorm room at the University of Vermont with hopes to never return. Bentley’s relocation would not only forever change the course of his life – it would go on to catalyze his tremendous impact on roots music at large.

After a trip with his father to Nashville made quite the impression, Bentley decided to complete his college degree at Vanderbilt, dedicating his studies to English (the major most proximal to songwriting). After graduating, Bentley continued to foster both his musical education and career; his day job entailed archiving old country performances at The Nashville Network (in fact, his diligent field work even got him banned temporarily from the Grand Ole Opry), while his evenings were filled with bar gigs and songwriting sessions. After five years of grunt work, 2003 saw Bentley release a self-titled album with Capitol Records. His first single, “What Was I Thinkin’,” made waves on the country charts. Since then, Bentley has been responsible for the release of 20 No. 1 country singles and 10 additional studio albums, the latest of which, Broken Branches, arrived in June.

While Bentley’s career has seen major commercial country success, his deep respect for expansion and immersion has made him a beloved fixture within bluegrass, as well.

Of his instrumental move to Nashville, Bentley has shared, “I moved to Nashville in 1994 – I was trying to find that seed of truth, that authenticity, that thing ‘country music’ that I had in my head. And I got here and it was definitely different than I expected it to be. It’s big business, a lot of money.

“Luckily, for me, I found a little bar called the Station Inn where bluegrass music existed – and I found what I was looking for. Just the sound of a five-piece bluegrass band blew my mind. And they’re not trying to take meetings all the time and meet producers, and get their foot in the door. It’s funny, I moved to Nashville looking for country music, but I found bluegrass.”

Whether it’s his proclivity for cross-genre conversation, songwriting prowess, or patinaed tenor delivery, Dierks has proved himself a mainstay favorite for country, Americana, and bluegrass fans – here at Good Country and BGS, and beyond. In honor of his recent album release and his huge Broken Branches tour with Zach Top and the Band Loula concluding this month, we present you with our Dierkscography, a non-comprehensive compilation of more than 15 songs meant to show off some of our favorite Dierks gems from across genres sampled from the many years of his remarkable career.

“Never You” featuring Miranda Lambert, Broken Branches (2025)

Dierks’s new album, Broken Branches, arrived fresh off the press with a slew of impressive collaborators, from Riley Green to Stephen Wilson Jr. Dierks fondly calls the record a “special” display of “making music in the studio with our buddies.” Country giant and longtime collaborator Miranda Lambert joins Bentley on this banjo-driven track, with the pair’s velvety duet vocals imbuing tenderness and warmth into one of the album’s only love songs.

“High Note” featuring Billy Strings, Gravel & Gold (2023)

This rip-roaring tune off of Bentley’s tenth studio album features a whole handful of bluegrass greats. Not only does Billy’s high tenor soar above Dierks gravelly tones during choruses, his famous flatpicking joins the likes of Sam Bush, Bryan Sutton, and Jerry Douglas for a superjam ending.

Of the collaboration, Dierks recalls, “Bryan Sutton first tipped me off to Billy Strings about seven years ago, mentioning that the future of bluegrass was in good hands. I was totally blown away the first time I saw him. I’ve cut songs like these since my first record, and I knew I wanted to have him on this one, I’m such a huge fan. It was a lot of fun to have him, Jerry, Sam, and Bryan all passing licks around – having them all on this record means a lot to me personally.”

“American Girl” (2024)

Who doesn’t love an Americana “American Girl”? Bentley delivers this country-fied Tom Petty classic alongside some BGS favorites, including Chris Eldridge on guitar and Noam Pikelny on banjo. Dierks reprised the hit single joined by Bronwyn Keith-Hynes, Sierra Hull, and Molly Tuttle on stage at the 2024 CMA Awards, bringing down the house.

“For As Long As I Can Remember,” Broken Branches (2025)

The country canon has seen its fair share of heartache, murder, trains, and drinking. Also on his latest release, “For As Long As I Can Remember” shirks these motifs in favor of something a little more wholesome – a warm and adoring ballad dedicated to the strength of enduring familial bond. An ode to his brother and father, Dierks reminds that respect and love can be country, too.

“Train Travelin’,” Dierks Bentley (2003)

With many of his nascent Nashville days edified by nights at the Station Inn and in the surrounding bluegrass scene, iconic bluegrass family the McCourys quickly became repeat collaborators for Dierks. Their features pepper many of his earlier albums, dating all the way back to his debut self-titled release in 2003. “Train Travelin’” would become the first of many, with other gems such as Good Man Like Me (Modern Day Drifter, 2005) and Last Call featuring Ronnie McCoury (Feel That Fire, 2009) dotting the road to Bentley’s eventual bluegrass-centric album, Up On The Ridge.

“Up On The Ridge,” Up On The Ridge (2010)

The titular track off of Bentley’s bluegrass-inspired album is thrumming with energy, both quickly-paced and haunting with its descending melodic hook. Up On The Ridge was Bentley’s fifth studio album, featuring a star-studded list of bluegrass collaborators including Alison Krauss, Punch Brothers, Chris Stapleton, Tim O’Brien, Sam Bush, and beyond. Del McCoury even joins forces with Bentley and Punch Brothers to deliver a deliciously grassified cover of U2’s “Pride (in the Name of Love)” further evidencing the album as a culmination of both tradition and innovation.

“Freeborn Man,” (Live, 2025)

Another of our favorite timeless covers, Dierks has been adorning his Broken Branches Tour this summer with his vigorous take on “Freeborn Man.” This rendition includes a fiery feature by Zach Top, nearly toppling the stage with talent.

“Hoedown for My Lowdown Rowdy Ways” featuring Dierks Bentley, Lowdown Hoedown (Jason Carter, 2022)

With Jason Carter fiddling his heart out on Dierks’ records since 2003, it’s of course a polite roots custom for Dierks to return the favor. Released as part of Carter’s second solo album, Lowdown Hoedown, “Hoedown for My Lowdown Rowdy Ways” has Dierks singing harmony and strumming away on the bluesy breakdown. Lowdown Hoedown also features a tender Jamie Hartford number, “Good Things Happen,” that Dierks Bentley covered on his 2005 album Modern Day Drifter, yet another frame of conversation between the two artists.

“Prodigal Son’s Prayer” featuring The Grascals, Long Trip Alone (2006)

This acoustic tune features the bluegrass sensibilities of the Grascals, a long-running group lauded for their instrumental prowess. The song loosely follows the parable of the prodigal son, ultimately centering themes of repair and reconciliation. The song also features the stomps and hums of incarcerated individuals from Charles Bass Correctional Complex, who had been in Bentley’s producer’s Bible studies course at the time.

“Free and Easy (Down The Road I Go),” Long Trip Alone (2006)

From the same release, this breezy banger remains a hallmark of Bentley’s career, even after nearly two decades since it dropped. The fifth of his singles to top Billboard’s Hot Country charts, “Free and Easy (Down The Road I Go)” lures in listeners with its fast-paced country twang and life-affirming sentiment.

“Beautiful World” featuring Patty Griffin, Feel That Fire (2009)

No stranger to incredible collaborators, Dierks Bentley asked iconic folk and country singer-songwriter Patty Griffin to accompany him on this track, gushing, “Her voice is one of a kind and she’s such an important figure in the American music scene… She’s just amazing. And so I asked her.”

The result is a tender homage to the beauties of the world, largely inspired by his wife, who was pregnant with their daughter at the time of the song’s conception. “You hear people sometimes say, ‘Man, I can’t imagine bringing a child into this world. It’s so bad.’ That’s just such a negative outlook,” Dierks says. “You cannot live your life with that viewpoint of the world. Yes, there are a lot of things that are wrong, but it is a beautiful world, and you need to find the positive in it.”

“Heart of a Lonely Girl,” Home (2012)

From Bentley’s sixth studio album, Home, comes this spirited, emotionally deep number. The narrative song was penned by the infinitely talented Charlie Worsham, who would go on to join Bentley’s touring band a decade later – and you can currently see him on stage each night during the Broken Branches tour.

“Trip Around the Sun,” featuring Dierks Bentley, I Built a World (Bronwyn Keith-Hynes, 2024)

Fiddler Bronwyn Keith-Hynes first connected with Bentley through Molly Tuttle & Golden Highway, the popular bluegrass group that opened for him several times on tour. She’s also married to Jason Carter, so Dierks wasn’t just a professional collaborator, but a member of her personal Nashville network, as well. It’s no surprise, then, that she’d end up on stage with him at the CMA Awards and, in the same year, he would guest on her acclaimed and GRAMMY Award-nominated album, I Built a World.

“Mardi Gras” featuring Trombone Shorty, Black (2016)

Soaked in Louisiana charm, this tune was inspired by Dierk’s 2015 galavant on a Mardi Gras parade float. Featuring the indelible hornsmanship of Trombone Shorty, the track grooves along with bluesy undertones. “Getting Trombone Shorty to do his thing on it, what a great guy. I love working with him. He is so laid-back and so good at what he does,” Bentley boasts of his collaborator.

“Travelin’ Light” featuring Brandi Carlile, The Mountain (2018)

Featuring the powerhouse vocals of Americana giant Brandi Carlile, this tune appears on Bentley’s 2018 album, The Mountain. The collaboration between the two icons came to fruition after Bentley saw Brandi perform at Telluride Bluegrass Festival, inspiring him to approach her about dueting on the track.

“Sun Sets in Colorado,” Gravel & Gold (2023)

Written reflecting his pandemic move to Colorado (though he has since returned to Nashville), Bentley released this tune on Gravel & Gold. The song shouts out New Grass Revival and Telluride in a verse: “Sing an old new grass song with me/ Telluride along with me,” while also featuring New Grass Revival founding member Sam Bush on mandolin. Bryan Sutton also joins in on the studio recording, yet another sparkling collab with bluegrass greats.

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Photo Credit: Robby Klein

Good Country, Good Community

Posted on by Shelby Williamson

Editor’s Note: Each issue of Good Country, our co-founder Ed Helms will share a handful of good country artists, albums, and songs direct from his own earphones in Ed’s Picks.

Gospel-infused, blues-inspired “swampgrass” from North Georgia, this Americana duo reminds of the Civil Wars, the SteelDrivers, and the Secret Sisters. Even so, they certainly have a sound all their own. Their new EP, Sweet Southern Summer, arrives August 22.

Read more about the Band Loula in conversation with Dierks Bentley here.

Our old favorite Timmy Ty has done it again! Snipe Hunter is a masterpiece of traditional postmodern Appalachian music. It’s hilarious and heartfelt, entirely unserious and devastating, too. No matter the textures and genres he references in his work, Tyler has always been Good Country (and very bluegrass, too).

Tyler Childers is our Artist of the Month. Dive into our coverage here.

Greensky Bluegrass

Bluegrass and jamgrass fans rejoiced in late July when our longtime pals in Greensky announced their upcoming album, XXV, marking 25 years of this incredibly impactful string band. With the announcement they released “Reverend,” featuring their Michigan compatriot Billy Strings. Here’s to the new album – and to the next 25 years! We can’t wait.

Robert Earl Keen & Friends: Applause for the Cause

The Texas Hill Country floods devastated fertile territory for roots music and Good Country in west Texas in early July. The artistic community has responded en force, quickly assembling quite a few star-studded benefit shows, concerts, and on-the-ground relief efforts.

Robert Earl Keen – together with a host of partners and sponsors – has convened a superlative lineup for just such an event, Applause for the Cause, to be held August 28 in New Braunfels, Texas. Featuring appearances by luminaries such as Tyler Childers, Miranda Lambert, Cody Jinks, Ray Wylie Hubbard, Kelsey Waldon, Jamey Johnson, and many more, the show almost immediately sold out. The good news is you can watch the performances via streaming (Amazon Music, DIRECTV, Veeps) and REK’s YouTube channel. The even better news is you can still donate directly to the Community Foundation of the Texas Hill Country, beneficiaries of the evening, to support the cause.

Trisha Yearwood

Yes, Trisha Yearwood is a country legend of stage and screen, but did you know she’s a stellar songwriter as well? Her brand new album, The Mirror, reflects this fact with 15 tracks all co-written by the Grand Ole Opry member. Plus, the collection features guests like Jim Lauderdale, Charles Kelley, and Hailey Whitters. THIS is Good Country!

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Photo Credits: The Band Loula by Sara Katherine Mills; Tyler Childers by Sam Waxman; Greensky Bluegrass by Dylan Langille; Robert Earl Keen by Emma Delevante; Trisha Yearwood by Russ Harrington.

Basic Folk: Joe K. Walsh

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Joe K. Walsh grew up in Duluth, Minnesota, and became enthralled with the mandolin (his primary focus, currently) after hearing the first David Grisman Quintet record. His dad got the young Joe his own mando. He ended up getting very serious about the instrument and found himself studying at Berklee College of Music in Boston (where he is now on faculty in the string department). Joe, in fact, was the first mandolin student at Berklee in a town that is now flooded with amazing mandolin players. His already strong sense of community and collaboration led him to becoming a main player in the Boston scene with his string band Joy Kills Sorrow, and with the Gibson Brothers. He now resides in Portland, Maine, and plays solo as well as with Mr. Sun, a group led by fiddler Darol Anger.

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In our Basic Folk conversation, we talk about taking over at Berklee after the death of professor John McGann, a beloved trad player who recorded with David Grisman, Mark O’Connor, Tim O’Brien, and the Boston Pops, among others. Joe addresses the question of whether bringing folk music into a college setting is “academizing” it or perhaps “folking” music academia. He also gets into hot button issues like improv, simplicity, and restraint. And, of course, he finally reveals his true feelings about the “other” Joe Walsh. Joe’s new instrumental album, Trust and Love, is a peaceful listen in these wild times. I’m happy to know Joe and have already benefited from his friendship! He and his wife gave my family a ton of baby hand-me-downs that have proved so useful. Everyone has a friend in Joe. K Walsh.

Read our feature interview with Joe K. Walsh on his latest album, Trust and Love, here.

Photo Credit: Natalie Conn