Tag: 5+5

BGS 5+5: Malachi Graham

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Artist: Malachi Graham
Hometown: Portland, Oregon
Latest Album: Caretaker

What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?

The Portland release show for my new album Caretaker in January was both surreal and sublime, in the best way. It was a month and two days after I had emergency brain surgery, necessitated by a rare blood infection called Lemierre Syndrome. I had only just regained use of my left side in rehab, I wasn’t allowed to lift more than 10 pounds or bend over and there was a historic ice storm in Portland just starting to thaw. Honestly, it was a little absurd to play the show and keep the date, but it didn’t feel reckless, because I had a community to catch me. Bandmates who insisted on lifting my gear, physical therapists who taught me how to play guitar again, a loving partner to change the bandages on my head, incredible parents who housed me and my band through the ice storm so we could all practice together, and so many supportive faces in the audience.

Caretaker is about trying to hold it all together, on behalf of other people, whether they ask you to or not. It’s about how that gets messy, about when that’s generous, and when that’s self-serving. My health crisis turned the meaning of the record on its head for me and taught me to receive care myself, to fall apart and trust I’ll be held. I tumbled into the web of care we weave for each other, that catches us when we least expect to need it. My friends, my family, my partner, and my bandmates were all there for me in every way that night. It was hard to make it through the songs without weeping with gratitude for being alive. I’ll never forget it.

What other art forms – literature, film, dance, painting, etc. – inform your music?

I read once that the four qualities of excellent songwriting are texture, detail, wit, and truth. My very favorite songwriters are masters of all four — artists like Aimee Mann, Loretta Lynn, Eef Barzelay, Anna Tivel, and Jolie Holland.

Another art form that’s a study in the same principals? Miniature making! Lately I’ve been enthralled by dollhouse building and the creation of tiny worlds. Miniature artists pay attention to the smallest details that make something feel realistic and truthful, even if a scene is an imaginary place. The very act of building something tiny in meticulous detail is inherently whimsical and a bit absurd. It requires sharpness and ingenuity, and a scale of thinking that’s totally different than the day-to-day.

All of that feels akin to songwriting for me. I got to dabble in miniature making myself in the new music video for my song “We Made a Home,” which I built and filmed in a little yellow dollhouse at 1:12 scale. My favorite part was hand-building the tiny lifelike details of a cohabitating relationship in decline, from mini Rainier Beer cans, to mini self-help books, to mini dirty dishes. I also made a tiny Ear Trumpet Labs microphone case. (When I’m not making music, I’m the business manager at Portland microphone workshop, Ear Trumpet Labs.)

N.B., miniature making takes a lot longer than songwriting.

How often do you hide behind a character in a song or use “you” when it’s actually “me?”

This has been an evolution for me. My early forays into songwriting felt more driven by an observational, sometimes academic curiosity, influenced by poetry, history, and family stories about my matriarchal ancestors. My first EP, Selfish, includes songs inspired by the 1934 Hays Code, Marconi’s theories of radio transmission, and my grandmother cleaning out the eaves of her house. I wrote and learned a lot from other people’s perspectives before I’d experienced much life myself. I still enjoy writing from other people’s perspectives as a practice in empathy and curiosity, but I find that my most emotionally resonant songs have more to do with my own experiences. It takes a different kind of bravery and vulnerability to write in the first person, and that has felt scary to do sometimes. On songs like “Montreal” and “Before Pictures,” even if the exact thing that’s happened to the narrator hasn’t happened to me, there’s a deeper truth or feeling I’ve experienced that I can get at best through a fictionalized story.

What has been the best advice you’ve received in your career so far?

Don’t be afraid to get weirder! My friend Jamie Stillway, a masterful guitarist and fearless sonic explorer, told me this about six years ago and it really stuck with me. I was feeling a bit trapped in particular instrumental and songwriting styles, because I assumed it was what people wanted to hear from me. I used to keep my musical selves neatly divided; I play and write in a synth pop band called Small Million and as a solo songwriter under my own name, and when I was younger I was more afraid to blend those worlds or explore the space between them. My musical start was all in folk and Americana music. The tradition and depth of songwriting in those genres is still a huge inspiration to me, but I’ve tried to give myself permission to be more faithful to a song and a feeling than to any genre in particular in my arrangements. The track “As Is” was written as a straight-ahead country song, but we recorded it played on an electric guitar looped backwards, played by two people at the same time with a screwdriver as a slide. A team of magical friends and collaborators helped me rip my songs apart and put them back together again to make them so much better, stranger, wilder than I ever could have imagined.

Which elements of nature do you spend the most time with and how do those impact your work?

Truth be told, I’m a bit of an indoor kid, so I guess… the air. But really, sincerely, I do spend a lot of time thinking about the air around me and inside of me, and how I interact with it through my breath. In singing, in practicing mindfulness, in both movement and stillness, breath is the element that calls me home into my own body. That helps me to remember that the body itself is an element of nature, and our breath is the place where the wild elements of the air and the self meet.

I often find myself exploring themes of both the body and the breath in my lyrics, as a window to intuition and self-trust, on songs like “Wonderful Life” on Caretaker, or “Be Wrong” and “Lightswitch” on my last Small Million record, Passenger. This really came full circle in my recent health crisis when I found myself on heavy oxygen in the ICU, and breath became something even more precious and sacred to me. My lung capacity as a singer really ended up saving my life— I’m still unpacking my gratitude and awe of that.

Photo Credit: Kale Chesney

BGS 5+5: Charlie Overbey

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Artist: Charlie Overbey
Hometown: Cerrillos, New Mexico
Latest Album: In Good Company (out July 26, 2024)
Personal Nicknames (or rejected band names): “Punk Rock Spy In The House Of Honky Tonk” (courtesy of Lemmy of Motorhead)

What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?

In 2016 I was touring with Blackberry Smoke and we were playing The Fillmore SF. As I walked up to the microphone, the magic of the Fillmore ghosts overtook me and I just stood there caught in the moment. I could hear the crowd getting louder and louder, but I was deep in the history of it all and then all of a sudden – I popped out of it and said, “Sorry, folks! I was having a Fillmore moment!” That crowd got louder at that moment than I had ever experienced! I think I’ll remember that moment even when I can’t remember my name anymore.

What’s the toughest time you ever had writing a song?

The night my Father died I sat down and wrote “This Old House.” The emotion one feels in such deep despair and loss is hard to put to song or on paper. The fact that I have never played it live and have a hard time even hearing it solidifies for me the depth of “This Old House.”

Genre is dead (long live genre!), but how would you describe the genres and styles your music inhabits?

Genre is a tricky thing – as artists, we all want to avoid that word and focus on writing from feeling and heart, delivering whatever comes from there. I have a long history and background in music from rock to punk to country and I tend to write with all of that mixed in, which in the music “business” is not favorable. They say, “You have to fit into a genre” or “People need to know how to classify you to have any success.” This could explain why I’m still a struggling musician, because I don’t steal from other writers and I don’t commit myself to a “genre.” I just do what I do. When I was a kid, my favorite local punk band, The Tazers, had a song called “Don’t Classify Me” and I guess at heart I’m still a young punker, semi-growed up, with an acoustic guitar and a killer band behind me.

What is a genre, album, artist, musician, or song that you adore that would surprise people?

I have always loved the depth, emotion, and songwriting of Barry Manilow. I have seen him 5 times in the first 4 rows. I am a pretty solid Fanilow and have never been shy or closet about it.

Since food and music go so well together, what is your dream pairing of a meal and a musician?

I would love to sit at an all you can eat taco bar for hours listening to Raul Malo play guitar and sing.

Photo courtesy of the artist.

BGS 5+5: Louisa Stancioff

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Artist: Louisa Stancioff
Hometown: I live in Warren, Maine and I am originally from Chesterville, Maine
Latest Album: When We Were Looking

Which artist has influenced you the most and how?

Regina Spektor keeps coming to mind. I listened to her albums Begin to Hope and Far incessantly when I was young, and I loved her voice, her intricate, thoughtful, creative melodies, her silliness paired with intensity, and her unpredictable song structures. Those albums were two of 10 or so CDs that I had, so I knew every word even when I couldn’t understand or quite grasp the things she was singing about. It’s hard to pinpoint who or what has influenced me, but she definitely opened up a new sonic landscape for me that I’m always still so entertained by whenever one of her songs comes on.

What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?

I was once playing a house show in Paonia, Colorado in someone’s backyard with my old band, Dyado. It was a warm, beautiful night and we were singing this song we had written together that mentioned the wind whipping at the trees and right then there was a very strong gust that whipped the leaves of this huge willow tree and made such a loud whooshing sound. It all felt pretty magical with the perfect timing and everyone was laughing and cheering.

What was the first moment that you knew you wanted to be a musician?

It wasn’t until COVID lockdown times. I’d been playing music my whole life and touring around the country here and there for a few years, but never felt any sort of commitment to it career-wise. Once it was no longer an option to perform and collaborate with people, that’s when I realized how bad I wanted it. I decided I had to truly attempt to build a solid music career or I might regret it for the rest of my life.

What has been the best advice you’ve received in your career so far?

The folks from the band Darlingside gave us some really nice advice a couple years ago when we were on tour with them. It’s so easy to get caught up in comparing yourself to other peoples’ music careers, but if you take a step back and compare yourself to where you were a year before, it can help you realize how far you’ve come. Now whenever I am feeling down about my career or feel like it’s not moving fast enough, I think about where I was a year before, and it always reminds me how much I have grown.

Which elements of nature do you spend the most time with and how do those impact your work?

I am a water person – I love swimming in lakes and rivers and oceans, canoeing and being on the water in general. A lot of my songs mention water in some way or other, in fact I have an entire song about a canoe race. I was actually in a river canoe race last week and I almost died. I got rescued by a kind firefighter after our boat was completely swamped and swept away. Perhaps I’ll write a song about that, too.

Photo Credit: Matt Gaillet

BGS 5+5: Matt Koziol

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Artist: Matt Koziol
Hometown: Linden, New Jersey
Latest Album: Last of the Old Dogs (out April 5, 2024)

What was the first moment that you knew you wanted to be a musician?

I was probably 4 years old and I saw Elivs on TV. It was like watching lightning in a bottle and I wanted to do it. No one in my family really listened to him, but I heard the sounds and the voice and knew that what he did, I loved. It introduced me to every kind of music that has been an influence for me. Rhythm and blues, country, gospel. It all played a part in the music that moves me. I think hearing Elvis for the first time turned a light switch on in my head. It made me realize music was what I wanted and something I would always be working towards.

What’s the toughest time you ever had writing a song?

The toughest time isn’t just one moment. It happens often. Co-writing with people, my brain works fast. I had a great writing friend, Jason Nix, once say “dare to be wrong” and it changed my approach to writing in group settings. It made me fluent. When I’m writing alone is when the tough parts come, especially if it’s a subject I feel strongly about. It’s like painting, and you don’t want to use the wrong color you imagine in your mind. Sometimes you have happy accidents, but I’ll use a word or a phrase to describe something in a song and it just doesn’t always make me feel how I felt when that moment happened. The way I’ll work around it is to try and just say what happened out loud like I’m talking to a friend. Then I try to write it in simple language, but every once in a while I just get stuck. And, I mean STUCK. Not a single word comes to mind, or I’m playing the same chords that I’ve used in another song, or a melody that I’ve repeated. At that point, I just put everything down and walk away. I come back to it later, or the next day. The story will still be in my head, but if I can’t serve that feeling justice, then I’ll wait until I can.

What has been the best advice you’ve received in your career so far?

I was in high school, and I made a demo for the first time. I brought it to my middle school music teacher (Reggie Turner) and had him listen. He told me to come back a few days later to get his thoughts. What I didn’t know is that he would play it for 20 of his sixth grade students and have them write a short review on how they felt. Now, if you ever want brutal honesty, let a bunch of 10 year-olds review your songs. He then showed me the notes and it was ruthless. They said I sounded like I had a frog in my throat, that they couldn’t understand what I was saying. They said they liked the guitar, but it felt messy. I was trying, at that time, to emulate my heroes. I wanted to play like them and sing like them, but it wasn’t my voice. He then said something I’ll never forget:

“You have your own fingerprint. No one else has yours. If you sing like someone else, and try to be their fingerprint, you’ll always be number two. However, if you sing like yourself, you’ll always be number one. No one has your sound, and no one has your fingerprint.”

I take that with me everyday.

Since food and music go so well together, what is your dream pairing of a meal and a musician?

This is such an awesome question, because I love both of these things so much! I grew up in an Italian household so for me, pasta and wine go with jazz or crooners. Something about good wine and an Italian-made meal feels like Tony Bennett. It feels like Frank Sinatra. When I’m having a good steak and bourbon, I tend to lean towards bluegrass. Something about a rustic meal with my favorite drink bleeds Appalachia. I usually follow up that meal with a fire and more bourbon and a cigar. All those smells and flavors are my favorite. It also depends on people’s tastes, but for me, those are my two ideal pairings for food and music.

How often do you hide behind a character in a song or use “you” when it’s actually “me?”

I have very seldomly put a song out that’s a “character.” Songs like “Work All Day” or “You Better Run, Son” have been songs that are stories for me. Things that I’ve read or seen in movies that give me the feeling and I want to write it down. The only other time I’m writing like that is when I have a person in my life whose story I’m telling because they don’t know how. Everything else, however, is me. I’ve lived it. I don’t always love that I have, but I love that I made it through. One of the things said in writing rooms, especially in Nashville is, “How do we make this relatable?” My response to that is always, “Just write what happened. You’re not the first for it to happen to, and you won’t be the last. Someone else has been through this before, they may just need your words to get them through it.”

I think relating with a song comes from the honesty of the writing. I know that I didn’t have the exact same thing happen to me that caused John Mayer to write “Slow Dancing in a Burning Room,” but I sure as hell had something happen that made me relate to the lyrics. It was his story, and I had mine. I needed his words to find a way to understand how I felt. That’s the power of writing. If it’s honest for you, It will be honest for someone else.

Photo Credit: Kaiser Cunningham

BGS 5+5: Kendl Winter

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Artist: Kendl Winter
Hometown: Olympia, Washington
Latest Album: Banjo Mantras
Personal nicknames (or rejected band names): “Lower half of The Lowest Pair”

What other art forms – literature, film, dance, painting, etc. – inform your music?

I like this question, because I think everything you do, witness, consume, walk by, dance with, or touch informs your (my) music. Most books I’m reading make their way into my lyrics directly or indirectly. I know I’ve quoted or misquoted from E.E. Cummings, Richard Brautigan, Hafiz, Ursula K. Le Guin, Octavia Butler, Rumi, Rebecca Solnit, Thich Nhat Hanh, and probably so many others. All the authors and poets and spiritual leaders I’ve read or listened to and been moved by have woven their ponderings into mine and in turn the tumble of words that spill out onto my morning pages is often informed by those thoughts.

I watch a lot of film and I love movement. I go for long runs in the Northwest – or wherever I currently am – and the landscape informs my music, or the highway does, or the venue. I’m (we) are so porous and regularly trying to make sense of the cocktail of experience I’ve been sipping on. That said, this is an instrumental record, so for me it’s a new kind of transcription or interpretation of the collage of experiences in my head.

What was the first moment that you knew you wanted to be a musician?

My Hebrew school teacher back in Arkansas said he had a video of me as a 5 year-old singing to a stick of butter. In second grade, I wrote a song about landfills and saving the birds. My folks were both classically trained musicians, one a high school string teacher, and the other a low brass professor, so I had music and the example of disciplined musicians practicing around me all the time. As kids, my sister and I were often crawling through the orchestra pit in the Arkansas Symphony or falling asleep in the balcony.

I loved punk music and dabbled with guitar and drums though high school, although I don’t think I actually knew I wanted to be a musician until my early 20s, when I had just moved to Olympia. In the Little Rock area of Arkansas and in Olympia, Washington there was/is such a vibrant DIY scene for music. Some of my first attempts at performing were in Olympia and I had only written half-songs, so they were very short and with a lot of apologies.

What’s the toughest time you ever had writing a song?

I would say lately has been the toughest time for me, writing lyrics at least. Maybe that’s why I’ve been enjoying the spaciousness of instrumentals for a while with the Banjo Mantras. It’s felt less exacting to let my art be more ethereal and open to interpretation. Something about the last five years has made me feel less sure about what to share, in terms of my own verbal songwriting. I think I’m more self conscious or potentially private and maybe more aware of my voice in a way that makes me feel a bit uncertain of what more can be said from my vantage. Songwriting has always been such a huge piece of how I interpret life, though, and it’s an integral piece of my personal process. So I’m still writing, just having a more difficult time sharing it.

If you had to write a mission statement for your career, what would it be?

If I had to write a mission statement for my career, I guess it would be to let curiosity and interest/passion lead me. My music has never been easy to put in a genre and my voice and songwriting has changed over the years. It’s been great to work in the Lowest Pair, because my bandmate Palmer T. Lee is similar in that his sound is difficult to box in, and that both of us have roots and interest in traditional sounds, but are always curious about expanding upon the subject matter and textures in our duo. The Banjo Mantras are just an expansion of that I think. I love the sound of a solo banjo and wanted to share some of the meanderings I found in various tunings and grooves. But yeah, I think my mission statement would involve personal growth, following curiosity and passion, a focus on heart-centric themes, and a goal for connection.

Which elements of nature do you spend the most time with and how do those impact your work?

I spend at least an hour most days going outside for a run or walk. I live in one of the most beautiful places, the PNW, so a short jaunt from my house and I’m next to the Puget Sound inlet full of kingfishers, seagulls, blue herons, and mergansers depending on the season. Low tides and high tides, I see and hear eagles swooping about and on a rare sunny horizon I can see the Olympic Mountains. The other day, I came home with a sticky pocket full of cottonwood buds for my housemate to make a salve with. The nettles have just begun showing this spring. I go for regular wanderings and collect pictures and sounds and try to make a regular practice of noticing things. Less like a practice, and more like just the way my days are, but I recognize it as an integral part of my centering practice.

Photo Credit: Molley Gillispie

BGS 5+5: The Lost Wayne

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Artist: The Lost Wayne (AKA Hunter Hoffman)
Hometown: DMV (DC/Maryland/Virginia)
Latest Album: Tangerine
Personal nicknames (or rejected band names): Hamster, Smooch

Which artist has influenced you the most and how?

There have been, and there continues to be, so many that it’s hard to narrow it down to just one. But the artist who has had the deepest impact on me has definitely been Noah Gundersen. My sister introduced me to his music in my early 20s and I have been a massive fan ever since. His honesty and vulnerability in his writing is something I’ve always admired and been drawn to. We’re both around the same age and I felt the experiences he was singing about were lining up exactly with my life. I’ve seen him play live many times, both solo and with a full band, and you can feel the crowd just completely magnetized to him and feeling every lyric and emotion of each song. One way I like to test if a song is well written is if it’s message and gravitas holds up with just the artist and their instrument. His music is equally impactful with the fullness of produced sound or a solo acoustic set. He’s inspired me in so many ways in finding the deep truths in my songwriting and how to translate that into performing live. I could go on and on, but I feel like it’s starting to sound creepy so I’m going to stop!

What was the first moment that you knew you wanted to be a musician?

I moved to New York to go to acting school at The Neighborhood Playhouse and in my college years I had played little open mic showcases on campus and had written a handful of songs. I had dreams of becoming a musician, but was primarily focused on acting. I set a goal for myself that I wanted to get a show playing a full set of original music, so I went to an open mic at the former coffee shop/concert venue Waltz-Astoria in Queens. Pedro Gonzalez and his wife Song were the owners, and after I played my two-song slot he asked if I wanted to perform a set that weekend, since another artist had dropped out at the last minute. All of a sudden my dream became a reality in the first few weeks of moving to the city. After I finished my set and felt the rush of baring my soul through my songs on stage, I knew this was no longer going to only be a therapeutic hobby. I’m grateful to say I’ve been able to juggle both acting and music in my adulthood and I take pride in saying I am an actor AND a musician. It’s been a wonderful ride so far.

What other art forms – literature, film, dance, painting, etc. – inform your music?

All of them. I just finished reading Rick Rubin’s book, The Creative Act: A Way Of Being, and it’s really opened me to finding inspiration everywhere. I’ve grown to appreciate how individual and subjective art is for everyone and that what I appreciate and connect to could be the complete opposite experience for someone else. So even if I don’t relate to something or “like” it, I try to keep my mind open and attempt to analyze why it doesn’t. Art helps us define who we are to ourselves, and as an artist I try to consume as much as I can, because you never know what’s going to hit you.

What has been the best advice you’ve received in your career so far?

Steal from other artists. And not in the copyright way, but in the inspiration. Sometimes if I’m caught in a writer’s block or a creative lull in my songwriting, I get so much from learning a new song from an artist I love. Or messing with it to sound a different way and make it cater to my voice. I’m also self-taught on guitar and have relatively zero knowledge of music theory, so when I learn and practice other people’s music, I discover new chord progressions or playing styles that can be so helpful to my own songwriting.

How often do you hide behind a character in a song or use “you” when it’s actually “me?”

I’ve written a few songs through a sort of character in mind, but inherently every song I write is a form of me. 95% of the songs I’ve written have started from me in a room with my guitar, sitting with whatever feelings or circumstances are making their way through my life, and doodling around ’til something sparks. Sometimes I’m in a sad place and out comes a corny love song, or I’m happy as a clam and I word vomit a full existential crisis, my world burning down around me. At the end of the day it’s all me, whether I’m inhabiting a character or not, I have to start with the truth of it for myself. I think it can be a great exercise to write from the perspective of a character, and I can attest it’s a lot of fun, but my favorite songs I’ve written are the ones that are uncomfortably me. My experiences and stories are the only things I can honestly share, and if I can write a song that impacts someone the way so many artists have impacted me, then hopefully I’ll find myself in the ballpark of making something meaningful.

Photo Credit: Shannen Bamford

BGS 5+5: Abby Hamilton

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Artist: Abby Hamilton
Hometown: Nicholasville, Kentucky
Latest Album: #1 Zookeeper (of the San Diego Zoo)

Which artist has influenced you the most?

It’s always been Johnny Cash and June Carter Cash. My mom used to have us stop before a Myrtle Beach or Gatlinburg vacation growing up to have us pick out a book. At 12 years old I resented this greatly. But, as luck would have it, I landed on a June Carter Cash biography, Anchored in Love. Realizing I had known this music my whole life, I saw so much of myself in her story and it led me down one of the richest love affairs of discographies I’ve ever experienced. The music and life stories of Johnny Cash and June Carter have always been a north star for my writing, performing, and presence as a person and a writer. I adore them. It also opened the doors to the world of country and folk music.

What was the first moment that you knew you wanted to be a musician?

Speaking of Johnny Cash, I remember being in college and discovering that Kris Kristofferson had written “Sunday Morning Coming Down,” not Johnny. I had no idea people could be songwriters and not the artist. It was like this huge “aha!” moment in my life. I never really felt like I was good at anything growing up. Not very high achieving in school and not super passionate about anything. Until that moment. I thought to myself, “If I can write songs, I will be happy. No matter who sings them.” And that’s what happened!

When I started writing here in Kentucky, I quickly realized everyone who made music here wrote their songs. A beautiful legacy from these parts, but it made me shift my attention to performing them. Thinking maybe, “If I sing these songs, someone might want to sing them, too.” This lead to a beautiful and unexpected journey with performing and falling in love with singing and my band. Don’t know how I got here really, but that’s the most I know.

Since food and music go so well together, what is your dream pairing of a meal and a musician?

Man, I think I’d take a bowl of Vodka Pasta and Bruce Springsteen. Those two always hit. And make it spicy.

What has been the best advice you’ve received in your career so far?

There’s so many things. I’m lucky to be surrounded by so many friends, family, and influences who know me and tell me the truth. The biggest thing has always been staying true to myself. Protect my tribe and be honest with those closest to me. CLICHES I know. But, it’s true.

Which elements of nature do you spend the most time with and how do those impact your work?

Anytime I’m in Eastern Kentucky on a dewey spring morning, I’m writing like a fiend. TRULY. If I can catch a sunrise and see the spiders making webs in the grass in the morning, I’ve always finished a song. Something that feels like a retreat from the real world always inspires me. No matter the season.

Photo Credit: Alysse Gafkjen

BGS 5+5: Frontier Ruckus

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Artist: Frontier Ruckus
Hometown: Detroit, Michigan
Latest Album: On the Northline (out February 16)

(Editor’s Note: All answers provided by Matthew Milia.)

If you had to write a mission statement for your career, what would it be?

“Celebrate the minutiae.” It’s no secret that that’s what my lyrics are all about. Specificity, specificity, specificity. I truly believe that the universal resides in the particular. And, that by singing about things in extreme detail, enormous truths are unlocked. Hence my apparent mission to name every landmark of my local universe/my personal mythology: The mall where my mom worked when I was a kid, my Catholic grade school, the soccer field where I first experienced the holy human emotion of humiliation.

On the Northline is a continuation of that ongoing catalog of catharsis. Me constantly digging deeper in the junk drawer of memory. You’d think that approach would be an almost unlistenably niche experience for the audience – but I’ve found it to be the opposite. I was so stunned the first time we played in London and kids in the front row were singing lyrics back to me about obscure Michigan towns and situations. They told me after the show that I might as well have been singing about their own towns, that the truths were universal. That was one of the best feelings ever.

What has been the best advice you’ve received in your career so far?

We once opened for blues harmonica legend Charlie Musselwhite in Houston and his parting words for us were: “Remember, the only chords you need are I, IV, and V.” Anyone who’s listened to Frontier Ruckus knows I definitely did not heed that advice, as I’m constantly trying to insert labyrinthine chord progressions and every melodic trick I’ve absorbed from 38 years of listening to pop radio.

Advice that we’ve found more apt came from our first manager, Dolphus Ramseur – an old-school North Carolinian known for discovering the Avett Brothers. He would always say, “Matthew, a career’s not a rocket ship, it’s a balloon ride.” And though we’d often laugh at the down-home, fortune cookie flavor of that mantra, it proved truthful time and again. The little career peaks came and went – playing Bonnaroo, Lollapalooza, whatever. But the thing that really allowed us to build anything of lasting value was the very gradual “one fan at a time” approach. Back-alley performances of the song someone wanted to hear, who drove from another state, sending out lyrics that someone wants tattooed in your handwriting, favoring intimate living room shows over bar gigs. I’m sure my bandmates Davey and Zach would agree, those are the things that have made Frontier Ruckus a glorious balloon ride.

How often do you hide behind a character in a song or use “you” when it’s actually “me?”

Constantly. People think the majority of my songs addressed to a “you” are to a love interest or even an enemy, depending on the song. It’s almost always me speaking to me. Sometimes encouraging myself; sometimes beating myself up. Internal monologues, at least mine, are mercurial and neurotic. Putting them into song really helps me work through some stuff, psychologically. That bit of distance allows me healthy perspective. A chance to pep myself up to fight another day. To quote myself singing to myself: “If only you knew what you are.”

Which artist has influenced you the most – and how?

It’s no doubt cliched, but it has to be Dylan. My dad raised me on him and it’s what activated my love for language. The potential playfulness of words. Their athleticism and malleability. The infinitude of connotation. The element of surprise packed into unexpected metaphor. How a line can be drop-dead-serious and winking at the same time. I also think Dylan is an underrated melodist and chordal architect. Look at all the non-12-bar-blues songs on Blonde on Blonde. The energy is propellent, continually cascading in an amphetamine avalanche. And it’s not just the words, it’s the chords providing the lyrics a perfect vehicle to ride in. The erosion of really intentional chord progressions in modern music is something that worries me quite a bit.

What other art forms – literature, film, dance, painting, etc. – inform your music?

I studied poetry in college under an incredible poet named Diane Wakoski who came out of the New York beat scene. She really informed my fondness for striking images, unexpected metaphor, and surprise revelations. Other than my bandmate David Jones, she was one of the earliest champions of my writing who helped me hone my voice and style.

Sometimes I wanna write songs that feel like a David Lynch film: A shiny Americana veneer on the surface, a severed ear of fractured emotion buried in the grass. I love quaint things with a shady underbelly. I’m obsessed with ’90s sitcoms set in New York, but with obvious LA studio back-lot sunlight. Any art form where sharply antithetical images are juxtaposed in magnetic conflict inspires me. On the Northline hopefully portrays a similar landscape: An insular world where the darkness and light necessitate one another.

Photo Credit: John Mark Hanson

BGS 5+5: Zach Russell

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Artist: Zach Russell
Hometown: Caryville, Tennessee
Latest Album: Where The Flowers Meet The Dew (out December 1)

Which artist has influenced you the most – and how?

I’ve always looked up to Willie Nelson. In my opinion, he is the top tier as far as “artists” go. He wrote many great songs, but wasn’t against recording others’ great songs. His work is of substance and quality, but catchy and with mass appeal. He ebbed and flowed with the styles of the times, but it never felt inauthentic. He had success in the pop realm, then went back to Texas and started the outlaw movement. He has released 100 studio albums. He is still touring at 90 years old. He has a massive marijuana company.

As he said at the very beginning of his Yesterday’s Wine album, “The voice of Imperfect Man must now be made manifest and I have been selected as the most likely candidate.” I mean, come on. That’s as cool as it gets.

What other art forms – literature, film, dance, painting, etc. – inform your music?

I am a big fan of literature, especially Appalachian authors like Lee Smith, Amy Greene, Silas House, and Wendell Berry, but my favorite being John Steinbeck, a California native. I believe reading good literature keeps my mind’s eye in good shape and subconsciously strengthens my sense for imagery.

A song can be seen like a book. Though, in a song you don’t get hundreds of pages to make your point. You get three and a half minutes, some 32ish lines, to get across a story or feeling. You can’t waste a single word. Each line needs to fracture out in a hundred different directions once it enters the listeners mind. I don’t think I ever would have gotten that had it not been for good literature.

How often do you hide behind a character in a song or use “you” when it’s actually “me”?

Nothing against characters in songs, but I wouldn’t create one to hide behind. If I wanted to hide something I wouldn’t write a song about it. Art is largely about bravery.

If I cried and that is an important part of the story, I’ll say that I cried. Sometimes things aren’t meant to be taken literally, though. Sometimes they are meant to be seen mythically, meaning whether it’s true or not is not what is important. But no, never to hide.

What has been the best advice you’ve received in your career so far?

Be kind and be a good hang. Being fun to be around and a nice person will get you gigs over more talented players. I didn’t understand that at first, but now that I hire musicians I get it. You spend a lot more time sharing space with people than you do playing together.

Which elements of nature do you spend the most time with and how do those impact your work?

I spend a good amount of time thinking about my local world: All the local trees and wildlife, the Clinch River and the waterways that feed it, when things bloom, what eats what, and the general way things tend to go. I think if you pay enough attention to the natural world you could accidentally learn all kinds of secret stuff. I believe I have. I’m not really sure what, but things are different now. And I don’t believe it’s any coincidence that it was only after I moved back home to the mountains of East Tennessee that people started paying attention to what I was doing. Maybe it makes it easier to know where things wanna go, or what comes next.

Photo Credit: Emma Delevante

BGS 5+5: Glitterfox

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Artist: Glitterfox
Hometown: Bakersfield, California (Solange); Charlotte, North Carolina (Andrea); Eugene, Oregon (Eric)
Personal nicknames (or rejected band names): We definitely joke about our pretend side project punk band Litterbox and Clitterbox (not sure the genre of that one yet). “Solo,” nickname for Solange.

(Editor’s Note: Answers provided by Andrea Walker.)

What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?

When we were first getting started we were asked to play in a battle-of-the-bands called “Buskerfest” in Long Beach, California. To say we were long shots at winning the competition would be an understatement. At 8 p.m. we went out on stage for our 30-minute set in front of the biggest crowd we’d ever been in front of and all of a sudden the sound system started going haywire. My microphone stopped working. The guitar amp stopped working. It’s like everything that could go wrong with the sound system did. But at the same time, all of our friends were right there in front and just so proud and excited for us. We were up there together, just the two of us and we kept rolling with it – whatever went wrong, we just smiled and kept going. We played for the biggest crowd we’d ever been in front of that night and in the end were named the grand prize winners. That night changed the course of our lives, because it gave us the confidence and conviction that we needed to follow our hearts and quit our jobs and try to make a life for ourselves in music.

What’s the toughest time you ever had writing a song?

In 2013, I lost my mom to breast cancer. We were incredibly close and the loss was utterly devastating. I started writing a song called “Cold Steel of Night” a few weeks before she passed. The lyrics to the chorus literally came to me while I was broken down on the carpet crying uncontrollably and the verses I wrote a few months after she was gone. The whole experience of writing the song was pretty cathartic for me and helped me to process her loss, but it was also the hardest to write, because I was going through the saddest experience I’ve ever been through.

What has been the best advice you’ve received in your career so far?

Back in the summer of 2015 we decided that we were going to quit our jobs, give up our apartment, live in a van on the road, and do whatever it took to support ourselves 100% from playing music together. Before leaving Long Beach, we had lunch with a friend, Josh Fischel, who sat us down and spoke with us earnestly about the life we were embarking on. He said, “Always remember, this is a marathon – not a sprint.” That advice has proved helpful every step of the way, because it’s been a reminder to be patient, to make sustainable choices, and to try and stay grateful for wherever we are in our career. We’ve come a long way and still have a long way to go.

Which elements of nature do you spend the most time with and how do those impact your work?

Solange and I live right next to an 85-acre park in Portland and we both walk our dog, Gilly, in the park every day. The park is full of massive trees and forested paths and is just a really peaceful place to explore. Writing songs is such an intensely cerebral activity for me that it’s really helpful to step away and take a walk through the park when I’m working. A lot of times when I take a break the ideas get a chance to gel and I’ll come back to the writing process with new inspiration about how to move forward.

How often do you hide behind a character in a song or use “you” when it’s actually “me”?

Actually, never. Solange and I both write from our direct experience and point of view, so reading the lyrics of a song is almost like reading a page from one of our journals. We definitely use imagery and metaphors to tell the story and deliver emotional content, so a lot of times the true meaning of a line may be hidden in there. But all of the songs are written from a very personal, first person narrative perspective.

Photo Credit: Jaquelyn Cruz