When Ohana Music founder Louis Wu says, “Ohana means family,” it’s not hyperbole; it’s the tenet upon which the company was built.
“On an unspoken level it drives everything, including staff, dealer interactions, customers, and products,” says Chris Wu, who oversees Ohana’s special operations and product marketing.
The Ohana story, which is also Louis Wu’s story, is an inspiring journey of determination and accomplished goals. Wu grew up in Hong Kong and relocated to the U.S. after high school to study engineering. In 2006, after twenty years in his chosen field, he decided on a career change, primarily to spend more time with his wife and two young children. That priority – family – became and remains the basis of Ohana.
Chris Wu was 10 years old when his father launched Ohana. He spent his teen summers alongside his father “doing a little work here and there.” In 2018, after college and a career in accounting, he says, “Things fell into place where it made sense to come onboard full-time.”
From Louis Wu’s Long Beach, California garage to a 6000-square-foot warehouse, Ohana’s slow and steady growth has taken them from a small business serving one customer at a time to leaders in their field with both their expansive product line and custom shop.
“I have to give full credit to Louis as the visionary leader of the company since day one,” says Wu. “He knows how a company should and needs to be run. Myself and all the staff are here to support that vision, and that really drives the growth. As a team, we’re improving internally every day, and that has been life-changing. It’s wonderful seeing our employees grow in what they do and in their passion for their jobs.”
Ohana’s international reach stems from the dedication of a surprisingly small workforce. “We’ve never had more than ten people at one time,” says Wu. “It is a small company, but the size helps our operation run smoothly and efficiently.”
Ohana ukuleles are available across a spectrum of styles and price points, from beginner models to pro series. Built overseas, the instruments are individually inspected in Long Beach to ensure flawless playability. “At the core, again, we view our customers as family, and we don’t want family to end up with subpar instruments,” says Wu. “Every instrument is given a full inspection and proper setup before it goes to our worldwide dealers. This does affect our output, our capacity, per day, week, month, or year, but that is the way it should be done. We’ve always been proud to do things that way.
“When you receive your Ohana ukulele, you can rest assured that you can take it out of the box and start playing. At the end of the day, being able to connect people to their instruments and spread the joy of music – it feels like introducing another family member to something we love, something we know they will love, and that will work for them.
“As a disclaimer, I will say that there are manufacturers who offer things that we do not, for example, plastic or carbon fiber instruments. Those materials can take a beating on long journeys or camping trips, if you need an instrument to meet those needs. Those ukuleles have their place, but we stay away from making them.
“We focus on sound, acoustics, wood choice, and the quality of the instrument you’re getting right off the bat. Between our 150 to 200 different models, there’s something for everyone. When you buy an Ohana ukulele, you know there is love behind it. Our team has set it up with you, our family, in mind. We want you to have a good instrument, plain and simple, for the right price and the right value. With our custom shop we’ve expanded that range while still keeping the value, the quality setup. We’re just covering a larger market.”
Ohana Music founder Louis Wu peruses the Ohana showroom.
All Ohana tonewoods are sustainably sourced. Most popular, says Wu, are redwood variations from the Pacific Northwest, which feature prominently in limited-edition models. They also source Hawaiian Acacia Koa, Canadian Engelmann spruce, and mahogany, cedar, and other wood sets from local harvesting companies. “We take our time to go through which sets look and sound the best, but are also in compliance with CITES,” he says. “Anything not on that list, we won’t touch.”
Ohana Ukuleles will celebrate their twentieth anniversary in 2026. The lead-up to that milestone began unofficially this year at the 2025 NAMM Show with the introduction of their Custom Shop electric tenor and baritone ukuleles.
“Louis and our master luthier, Brad Kahabka, go all-out when it comes to planning and executing things that come from the custom shop,” says Wu. “After building acoustic instruments and getting the shop going, it was a question of ‘What’s next?’ We made simple custom instruments, more elaborate custom instruments, and we even built one with wood from The Tree. We had explored the whole range of acoustic instruments and electric was the natural progression. We were excited to enter the market with electric instruments this year. That’s really been our focus for 2025.”
This month, Ohana debuts their Custom Electric Bass, also built by Brad Kahabka. The new instrument, which the company describes as “a counterpart” to their OBU-22 short-scale acoustic-electric bass, features a solid mahogany body, maple top, custom pickups, cutaway design, and 28-inch scale.
The brand new Ohana Custom Shop Electric Bass, which launched this month.
“We’re super-excited to bring the first 28-inch-scale bass to market,” says Wu. “There are short-scale basses out there, but after trying different scales, Brad and Louis wanted something portable that we could make here in the shop. We wanted to come to market with this middle ground that still gives you the proper electric bass sound, but is more affordable and still does a lot.”
NAMM 2026 will mark the official kickoff of Ohana’s 20-year celebration, with other events and activities planned for the coming months. “We’ve been thinking about how we want to expand the family brand, ways we can look at to differentiate ourselves,” says Wu. “We’ve been successful in trying that out with our custom electric instruments, which can be additionally customized with different finishes, tuners, and other features. I think the future is in offering options to buyers and customers. We’re looking forward to exploring that more and offering some exciting things for our 20th anniversary.”
Once a wildly popular, then somewhat more niche, instrument – and, to some generations, an accouterment for tiptoeing through tulips – only to regain and increase its “cool factor” during the 2000s, the ukulele continues riding the crest of its popularity. (What could punch the uke’s “hip card” more than Taylor Swift…?)
“They call this the ‘third resurgence,’ this explosion of attention and rise in the number of ukulele players,” says Wu. “The pattern of history is that, in the last century, there were a couple of other rises and falls in popularity and maybe that’s the natural lifecycle of any instrument.
“What really pushed it along this time was the import side – specifically, affordable instruments made overseas, usually in China, but now also in Vietnam and Indonesia. You can pick up a ukulele for anywhere from under a hundred dollars to a few hundred. Making the instrument accessible that way, people took a new interest in ukuleles and stuck with them. There are also companies with longer histories that kept the torch going, and they, too, are part of this resurgence. Ohana began in 2006 and we’re proud to be a part of it. “It’s been a community effort to get the instrument back on its feet and it’s staying popular. Music is somewhat recession-proof, at least on the stringed instrument side. Throughout COVID, also, people needed music and the ukulele community was able to provide that.”
Ohana keeps eyes and ears on the changing wants and needs of their growing family of customers. “The stereotype of a ukulele player was someone maybe a little older, or retired, or a person with disposable income and the time to play and collect different instruments,” says Wu. “Now, however, we have a younger demographic that is eager to get out there and explore. They see ukuleles all over TikTok, and that’s something we can’t ignore.
“We see patterns, we get feedback from our dealers and customers, and we also see that people of all ages like the baritone ukuleles, the larger instruments. Or they’re developing tastes for certain features: beveled edges, slotted headstocks, armrests, cutaways, different pickups. The options and combinations are endless.
“All of this plays a factor in our innovation, coming up with new combinations and new instruments that people are after. Going back to the baritone, for example, what used to be a one percent demand for that size instrument is now ten percent or more. That number doesn’t sound large on its own, but it is a significant jump. We keep a pulse on what’s out there, what people like or dislike, and we innovate based on that.
One of Chris Wu’s personal and professional goals is to further expand upon the relationship between bluegrass and ukuleles. “I’ve learned a lot from our bluegrass players, including local players,” he says. “I don’t have a background in bluegrass, but I’ve learned from watching them play bluegrass on ukuleles how much can be created musically from that and in combination with other instruments as well.
“One of our new team members, who helps us with social media, played in a bluegrass band. Watching them go at it was just amazing, and I would really love to explore more of that. Ohana makes banjoleles, and we tried our hands once at a resonator ukulele. It might be time to bring that back. Who knows? As a company, I think bluegrass is something we could tap into.”
Integral to Ohana’s legacy and footprint as they enter their third decade is their philanthropic work and community involvement, including ongoing assistance with music programs following the Los Angeles wildfires of 2025.
“As often as we’re able, we love supporting the ukulele community far and wide,” says Wu. “It’s not such a big world, once you’re in it, and it is closely knit. Brands, manufacturers, artists – everyone knows each other, and it becomes even closer when organizations need our support. We do that whenever we can. It’s one of the crucial foundational things that Louis has always worked for with Ohana.
“A lot of times it’s local – schools and, lately, libraries that have started ukulele programs or clubs. We’ve partnered multiple times with the Los Angeles Public Library System as individual libraries have started programs. We provide support and ukuleles.
“A couple of years ago, after the unfortunate wildfires in Maui, one of our music store dealers on the island contacted us about helping rebuild school music programs. We shipped two large pallets of ukuleles to them. We’ve also partnered with Four Strings At A Time, a ukulele nonprofit in Hawaii, to help their local schools. On the continental U.S. side, there’s Ukulele Kids Club, which provides music therapy to children and also instruments to children in hospitals.
“As small as the ukulele community can feel sometimes, especially compared to the guitar community, there are still endless ways that people need support. It’s a blessing and an honor to be able to provide that to them.”
As Ohana moves into the fourth quarter of 2025, prepares for holiday sales, looks ahead to NAMM 2026, and plans its upcoming anniversary, Wu reflects on the year-to-date as “interesting, especially with the tariffs. Everyone has responded a little bit differently, but everyone has also been hanging in there, as much as I can speak for our music stores, our retailers, and the players,” he says.
“We’re looking forward to next year for new things, exciting things. It’s been interesting, but we’ve been getting through it and that’s all we can ask for.”
Ohana Vintage Line, 39 Series.
All images courtesy of Ohana Music. Lead image: Ohana O’Nina and Pineapple models lounge on the beach.
We’re back with another excellent edition of our weekly round-up of new music, fresh videos, and sneak previews of tracks to yet to come.
Bluegrass power couple Benson – Wayne Benson and Kristin Scott Benson – call on Zack Arnold of Rhonda Vincent & the Rage for their new single, “Bully of the Town,” which drops today. You may recognize the track, which is usually performed as an instrumental, but its unique chord progression shines with Arnold’s vocal as the somewhat unexpected cherry on top. Also in a bluegrass space – bluegrass saxophone, of course – Eddie Barbash continues his mini-series with us of classic bluegrass and old-time fiddle tunes rendered superlatively, as only he could, on sax. This time, we’re sharing his new performance video of “Tennessee Mountain Fox Chase,” shot at Larkspur Conservation in Westmoreland, Tennessee. We can’t get enough solo saxophone fiddle tunes!
From the bottom of the globe, progressive New Zealand string band You, Me, Everybody returns to the pages of BGS with a new music video. “The Rest of Us” is a contemplative, introspective song set to sparkling newgrass that’s about leadership, abandonment, and rising above – if you can. From country, our friend Brit Taylor also has debuted a new music video this week for “All For Sale,” her most recent single that released just last month. The new video, which only features a short cameo by Taylor, a new momma, is a fun-fueled yard sale spurred by heartbreak and readiness for a blank, clean slate.
To round out our collection this week, legendary blues master Robert Finley is celebrating a brand new album via Easy Eye Sound today, so of course we’re highlighting a track from Hallelujah! Don’t Let the Devil Fool Ya to mark the special day. “Can’t Take My Joy” is an infectious song with a perennial message that Finley holds at the core of his values system – you really can’t steal his joy. And, with music like this in our weekly round-up, you won’t be taking our joy, either!
It’s all right here on BGS and, just like every week before this one, You Gotta Hear This.
Eddie Barbash, “Tennessee Mountain Fox Chase”
Artist:Eddie Barbash Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee Song: “Tennessee Mountain Fox Chase” Album:Larkspur Release Date: November 28, 2025 (The album will be released one song at a time with the last track coming out Nov. 28.)
In Their Words: “This song was recorded during a spring sun shower on the porch swing at Larkspur Conservation’s cabin headquarters. A barn swallow was nesting in the rafters just over my head and I was inspired by all of the bird songs around me to improvise this introduction.
“I learned the tune late one night from Ric Robertson after a party/concert in his Washington Heights apartment in NYC. I believe he learned it from Nate Leath and my version is also inspired by his recording. I decided to slow it down a bit and give it a lazier, swingier feel that just feels so good to play on the saxophone.” – Eddie Barbash
Artist:Benson Hometown: Boiling Springs, South Carolina Song: “Bully of the Town” Release Date: October 10, 2025 Label: Mountain Home Music Company
In Their Words: “I’ve always loved to play this song and didn’t even know it had lyrics for years. The chord progression is just different enough to make it work either way.” – Wayne Benson
“‘Bully of the Town’ is a good example of a song that wasn’t originally a part of the bluegrass genre, but is versatile enough that you can play it many different ways and it sounds like it belonged there all along. Wayne and I are pickers first and this arrangement is really built around being able to play around this fun chord progression, but the vocals are the icing on the cake, because prior to this cut, people typically played it as an instrumental. A lot of people don’t even know it has words, so adding vocals differentiates it and we got a young gun to sing it! Zack Arnold, from Rhonda Vincent & the Rage, did such a great job. He delivers it with a lot of energy, power, and a spirit that accompanies youthful musicianship. He really added excitement to an already-grooving track.” – Kristin Scott Benson
Track Credits: Wayne Benson – Mandolin Kristin Scott Benson – Banjo Cody Kilby – Acoustic guitar Kevin McKinnon – Bass Zack Arnold – Lead Vocal
Robert Finley, “Can’t Take My Joy”
Artist:Robert Finley Hometown: Bernice, Louisiana Song: “Can’t Take My Joy” Album:Hallelujah! Don’t Let the Devil Fool Ya Release Date: October 10, 2025 Label: Easy Eye Sound
In Their Words: “There’s an old saying that I used to hear folks say, ‘There’s joy in the world, can’t take it away.’ Joy is something that can’t be measured by man and can’t be controlled by man. That’s why I say, ‘You can’t take my joy.’ You can take everything else, but you can’t take that. You can take my freedom and I can still be happy. Though there are problems, there is still a way to look beyond the faults and accept the good things in life. Joy is something that no man has the power to give and no man has the power to take away.” – Robert Finley
Brit Taylor, “All For Sale”
Artist:Brit Taylor Hometown: Hindman, Kentucky Song: “All For Sale” Release Date: September 5, 2025 (song); October 9, 2025 (video) Label: RidgeTone Records/Thirty Tigers
In Their Words: “We wrote this song like a script. There’s so much imagery in the song that it just seemed natural for the video to follow the lyrics. I decided only to make a quick cameo in the video and let my friends be the stars of the show! While it seems counter-intuitive to what the rest of the industry is currently doing, it felt right to me. After all, the song isn’t about me, it’s about a story that wants to be told. And, honestly, my friends should probably move to Hollywood, because they really nailed their parts!” – Brit Taylor
Video Credits: Robert Chavers – Producer, director, cinematographer Steve Voss – Director Solar Cabin – Production company
You, Me, Everybody, “The Rest Of Us”
Artist:You, Me, Everybody Hometown: Ngaruawahia, New Zealand Song: “The Rest of Us” Release Date: October 10, 2025 Label: Southern Sky Records
In Their Words: “I woke up with the melody and the lyric in the chorus, ‘If you’re the one who’s going to give up, what are the rest of us doing here tonight?’ And as much as the melody kept hooking me in, it took a while to find an angle for a song that could only really be about leadership. Even though it’s from the perspective of the people who are left when a leader abandons them, I was writing this with an awareness of how I felt I was letting people down at a time when I wasn’t following through on a commitment I had made. That’s why it’s less about blame and more about the heartbreak of watching someone lose faith in something they’d once worked so hard for.” – Kim Bonnington
Video Credits: Produced and edited by Kim Bonnington. Filmed by Ethan Bryant.
Photo Credit: Brit Taylor by Sammy Hearn; Benson by Sandlin Gaither.
Fall marks the beginning of “over the river and through the woods season,” whether your destination is grandma’s house, an off-season beach, a u-pick apple orchard or pumpkin patch, a spangled and harlequin forest, or an autumn music and arts festival. As you navigate the changing season and enjoy leaf-peeping, apple butter, hot cocoa, and hot dogs roasted over the fire, there’s one genre certain to accompany you through each and every picturesque context the “-ber” months give us – that’s Good Country.
Country is perfect for fall, whether you’re raising a beer, whiskey, or cider alone or among friends. From driving through tobacco country during curing season in September, to tailgating at the football stadium, to winding your way over the Smoky Mountains, to soaking in the last bit of summer sun, there’s a country song ready to soundtrack your falling back in love with cozy season.
Dripping with nostalgia, evocative text painting, a rich and deep connection to nature, and a reverence for community, folkways, and tradition, country music just may be synonymous with fall – and our playlist certainly helps make that case. We hope you enjoy listening and we wanna know: what country songs always get you in an autumnal mood? Did they make the list?
Photo Credit: Album cover, New Harvest… First Gathering, Dolly Parton.
Artist:We Met In June Hometown: Currently living in Sogndal, Norway Latest Album:Going Home (released September 19, 2025)
What was the first moment that you knew you wanted to be a musician?
I remember my dad and I driving through Minnesota when I was about eight years old. He had bought Fleetwood Mac’s collection CD so we’d have something to listen to and we played it over and over again. I became completely obsessed and that’s when I found a deep interest in music. I knew I wanted to do what Stevie Nicks and Christine McVie were doing. – Sara
I think I was around seven when I saw the music video for “The Final Countdown” by Europe and I thought the guitar solo by John Norum was the coolest thing ever. I remember thinking, “I want to do that someday!” I’ve also always looked up to my dad, who’s a great guitar player. He was the one who introduced me to acoustic music and bluegrass, which has been the greatest gift. – Gjest
Genre is dead (long live genre!), but how would you describe the genres and styles your music inhabits?
We’d say it’s a blend of singer-songwriter, folk, Americana, and pop. Some journalists in Norway have called our music “Nordicana,” which is basically a Nordic take on Americana. We’re inspired by a lot of ’70s music like Fleetwood Mac, Jackson Browne, Crosby, Stills & Nash, and we also love Kacey Musgraves and the whole Nashville country-pop scene.
On top of that, we listen to a lot of acoustic music like Alison Krauss & Union Station, Gillian Welch, Nickel Creek, Molly Tuttle, etc. Our acoustic guitar playing is very influenced by those bands and the sound on our new record is a dreamy mixture of acoustic guitars, sometimes mandolin and banjo, plus drums, bass, keyboards, and synths. – Gjest
Which elements of nature do you spend the most time with and how do they impact your work?
Living on the west coast of Norway surrounded by mountains and fjords has given us a strong bond with nature – it’s part of our everyday life. I start every morning with a walk to clear my head and get some fresh air. It always seems to lift my mood a bit. – Sara
And then there’s the weather – we get a lot of cold, rainy days here, which makes it easier and more natural to stay inside and play music, write, and practice. We’ve been to Nashville, for example, and it’s hard to understand how people get anything done in that heat! – Gjest
If you didn’t work in music, what would you do instead?
I’d probably be a veterinarian. It used to be my dream before We Met In June. In Norway it’s really difficult to get into veterinary school and I’ve actually applied every year since high school just to see if I’d get in. This summer, for the first time, I was accepted – and I have to admit, it hurt a little bit to turn down the spot. [Laughs] – Sara
I honestly have no idea. As a kid, I thought excavators were the coolest thing, but I probably wouldn’t be good at anything else. I’m just glad I get to do music. – Gjest
What’s one question you wish interviewers would stop asking you?
We appreciate all questions, but there’s one that always comes up: “What’s it like being a couple and working so closely together?”
We get why people are curious, but for us it feels completely natural to spend so much time together. And, honestly, if you’re going to work that closely with someone, why not do it with your favorite person in the world? Of course it’s not without challenges, like any partnership, but most of the time it’s an advantage. That said, we could definitely be better at taking breaks – it’s music 24/7! – Sara
Six years ago, I found myself in the hospital for a period of a few weeks with a mystery illness, unsure of whether or not I would make it out alive. I did survive, of course; but the experience changed me fundamentally. It brought me closer to many of my heroes, both living and dead, who have walked before me, people who know a whole lot more about life and its passing than I do. As near-death experiences do for many, it led me to live differently, cherishing each present moment and honoring life’s transitory nature rather than fearing it. Retrospectively, it was a gift, because it helped me to realize that I have been fortunate to have been given a free life and my hope is to use my experience of healing to help others heal too.
My new album, Streets Of September, marks my reflection upon the anniversary of that life-altering event. It is a collection of songs that, to me, honor the beauty of being alive and the magic of alchemizing grief into something beautiful, created out of thin air in the moment we have before us. It is an ode to brevity and the wonder that can be found there: to be appreciated for a moment before being washed away.
As I have navigated the path of healing myself, these songs have served as anchors during some of the darkest of times. They are beacons of light I’ve looked to when I was uncertain of how to shift my consciousness from a place of grief to one of hope. We are all growing and healing one day at a time, and everyone else’s reality is as real to them as our own is to us. Wherever this music may find you, my hope is that there may be something here to give you the courage to press on, to continue on your journey, whatever it may be. – Jack Schneider
“Looking For Space” – John Denver
I first discovered this song when I was in middle school. That was a dark time for me. I felt different and yearned for a place to belong, wondering if it was something that even existed. This song helped me to look inward, to find peace in the home within my heart. As I continue to grow up I keep coming back to it. It reminds me to stay true to that journey, to open myself up to the space of my soul. It’s not about arriving at that place. Ultimately, it is about the continuous practice of aiming for something that we know we will never reach within our consciousness, but that the growing is what makes us who we are, stronger and more resilient, committed to the path as it disappears, which is how we can tell that it is the right one.
“Secret Of Life” – James Taylor
My parents took me to see James Taylor perform a solo acoustic show when I was nine years old. He played this song and the idea of the “secret of life” stuck out to me. At that age I barely knew what living meant. I’m still not sure I do. But coming back to that song now, having survived a near-death experience, it has more depth than I ever could have understood before. Our task in being truly present and grounded is through the power of the now and “enjoying the passing of time.” No matter how dark or difficult the road gets, nothing is forever, and if we can remember to shift our awareness and accept the unfolding of things in the time that they are meant to unfold, we can surrender to the joy of living and experience the full extent of our aliveness.
“Sweet Seasons” – Carole King
When I was growing up, my mom had an art studio in our house that she used to paint in. Every now and then I’d get to go hang out with her in there and we’d listen to music together. My mom put this song on a lot back in those days and hearing it reminds me of those special memories, of being encouraged to connect deeply with my creative energy. “Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose/ And most times you choose between the two…”
The older I get, the more I realize that we really do get to choose how we show up to the present. The hope is to be able to embrace the passing seasons as they come and go and find the beauty in watching life flow.
“I Got A Name” – Jim Croce
Jim Croce was one of my first musical heroes. I can’t remember how I found my way to his music, but his songs sound as if they always existed. I especially love this one, largely because of the last line of the chorus, “Moving ahead so life won’t pass me by.” Healing is not a linear journey and the dark times are necessary to help build and reveal our character. Time continues to pass and it is in the forward motion that we find ourselves connected to the magic of life, continuing to be reborn every time we open our eyes.
“That Lucky Old Sun” – Big Mama Thornton
A favorite song of mine and my favorite version of it. Perfect in every way.
“Shine A Light” – Rolling Stones
This was my grandmother’s favorite song. At her request, we played it at her funeral. She used to quote the lyric all the time, “May every song be your favorite tune.”
“If You Want To Sing Out, Sing Out” – Cat Stevens
My dad first showed me this song, and I’ve always loved the simplicity of its message.
“Go Wherever You Wanna Go” – Patty Griffin
I remember listening to this song leaving home, on my way to college. I cried so hard. The possibilities of the future were endless. And with that came the necessity to accept the changes happening around me and within me and the loss of the grounding presence of my family and the home I knew. I was bound to chase my dreams with tremendous uncertainty, hunger, and hope.
“One Of These Days” – Emmylou Harris
I love the line in the chorus of this song “ I won’t have this urge to go all bottled up inside.” Writing and singing songs is my outlet for processing my emotions, but I often struggle to create the space to bring them to light in my day to day life. Growing is recognizing where or who you hope to someday be, and then each day waking up and striving towards that dream, one moment at a time.
“Good Again” – Sunshine Grocery
“For us, there is only the trying. The rest is not our business” – T.S. Eliot.
“Bells Of Harlem” – Dave Rawlings Machine
A song of hope and redemption, capturing the essence of the kind of clarity that comes through after a season of darkness. The sun rises again. “A little joy, at long last.”
“Pilgrim” – Steve Earle
I was fortunate to have been at the Grand Ole Opry a couple weeks ago when Steve Earle was inducted. After becoming a member, he chose to play this song. Emmylou Harris, Vince Gill, Don Schlitz, and Connie Smith sang it with him. It was such a special moment, and I am grateful to have witnessed that kind of history. We don’t know where our journeys will lead us, but the path is homeward.
You know what Friday means! New music, new songs, new videos – and of course, You Gotta Hear This.
Let’s begin with some Good Country from Idaho’s own Colby Acuff. His new album, Enjoy the Ride, is out today and we’re enjoying the ride ourselves with a lyric video for the title track from his excellent collection of country that’s both traditional and forward-looking born from beyond the continental divide. Singer-songwriter Kashena Sampson brings us a song from her brand new album, Ghost Of Me, that we find at the intersection of vibey Americana and contemplative indie. “Thick As Thieves” is a daydream in a song about teenage years, friendship, and holding onto – if you can – the ineffable magic of youth.
One of our longtime friends, Caitlin Canty, released her new album, Night Owl Envies the Mourning Dove, yesterday. Based in Vermont, the singer-songwriter crafts music that rests comfortably between folk, bluegrass, string band, and Americana sounds. To celebrate her new album, she’s shared a special live performance video of “Don’t Worry About Nothing,” inspired by parenthood, our frenetic day-to-day, and giving up control – and worry – whenever we can. Speaking of string band music, Damn Tall Buildings, a Brooklyn-based group playing on the fringes of bluegrass, old-time, and swing, have a brand new video for “Turkish Airlines,” a funny and all-too-relatable track they describe as portraying the haze of travel dreams, the desire to be seen, and late-night self-reflection.
And don’t miss your essential dose of bluegrass saxophone, as one of the foremost purveyors of the form, Eddie Barbash, begins a BGS mini-series sharing videos of solo performances of traditional fiddle tunes on sax. To begin, check out his rendition of “Forked Deer,” which Barbash picked up from Sierra Hull while touring with Cory Wong. If you aren’t familiar with Barbash, you may be surprised how perfect fiddle tunes can feel on saxophone. If you are already familiar, you’ll love getting to hear him offer his takes on these classic melodies. More sax-fiddle tunes are coming soon.
There’s a little something for everyone in this week’s roundup, as usual. We hope you enjoy, because You Gotta Hear This!
Colby Acuff, “Enjoy The Ride”
Artist:Colby Acuff Hometown: Coeur d’Alene, Idaho Song: “Enjoy The Ride” Album:Enjoy The Ride Release Date: October 3, 2025
In Their Words: “The title track of this project does not pull any punches. This song sets up the world where this story takes place. Like most of my songs, it takes place in the real world. In the plains of Oklahoma, the mountains of Idaho, or the heat of the desert. This record is for real people. People that we talked to on the streets and truly got a look into who they are. This song is meant to represent the people of this country for what it is. I hope people love this one as much as I do.” – Colby Acuff
Eddie Barbash, “Forked Deer”
Artist:Eddie Barbash Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee Song: “Forked Deer” Album:Larkspur Release Date: November 28, 2025 (The album will be released one song at a time with the last track coming out Nov. 28.)
In Their Words: “This performance was recorded in a dry streambed at the Larkspur Conservation natural burial ground in northern Tennessee. I learned ‘Forked Deer’ from Sierra Hull while we were on tour with Cory Wong. The harmonic lift in the B part is what makes the tune for me. Modulating to the 5 is a tried-and-true move at least as old as the Baroque. In my playing I tried to capture what I love most about bluegrass – the fast and hard-driving, yet still light and bouncy, groove and the thrilling rhythmic and melodic variations. To achieve the bluegrass backbeat, I made generous use of one of my favorite bowing techniques that I learned from Alex Hargreaves called the ‘Georgia shuffle bow.'” – Eddie Barbash
Video Credits: Shot and edited by Jeremy Stanley.
Caitlin Canty, “Don’t Worry About Nothing”
Artist:Caitlin Canty Hometown: Danby, Vermont Song: “Don’t Worry About Nothing” Album:Night Owl Envies the Mourning Dove Release Date: October 2, 2025
In Their Words: “I started writing this song to my son when his Magna-Tiles castle came crashing down in a spectacular heap. It felt like what was happening at that time to my view of the wider world. This song helps me wind down from worrying about what doesn’t matter so much and focus my powers on fighting for what does matter. It’s written from my own unshakeable mom’s point of view – I love how she sees the world and walks through it with a smile, even on the darkest days. I’m so looking forward to touring Night Owl Envies the Mourning Dove and playing this song each night with my full band! ” – Caitlin Canty
Video Credits: Filmed and edited by Brian Carroll. Mixed by Dave Sinko.
Damn Tall Buildings, “Turkish Airlines”
Artist:Damn Tall Buildings Hometown: Brooklyn, New York Song: “Turkish Airlines” Album:The Universe Is Hungry Release Date: October 8, 2025 (single); October 24, 2025 (album)
In Their Words: “We are honored to share this single from our fourth upcoming studio LP with BGS! ‘Turkish Airlines’ explores the sensation of being loved, but not being sure which version of you someone is loving. We’re always evolving and changing as humans, and this song floats through the uncertainty that can be triggered by that truth. We had a blast crafting this track to portray the haze of travel dreams, the desire to be seen through the complexity, and late-night self-reflection. Through creative experimentation in the recording and production of the track, we were able to bring a bit of studio magic to this song that we hope will become a DTB classic. Hit us up on the socials to let us know what you think!. Thanks for listening, see y’all on the road.” – Damn Tall Buildings
Kashena Sampson, “Thick As Thieves”
Artist:Kashena Sampson Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee Song: “Thick As Thieves” Album:Ghost Of Me Release Date: October 3, 2025
In Their Words: “I wrote this song for my best friend, Sulayla. It’s a daydream about our teenage years growing up in Las Vegas. It’s about those carefree days when the world felt full of endless possibilities. The song came to me after a conversation we had, realizing that adulthood isn’t quite what we imagined and wishing we could go back to those golden moments. Driving through the desert in my old Ford Explorer, listening to the Beatles and feeling like anything was possible.” – Kashena Sampson
Track Credits: Kashena Sampson – Vocals, songwriter Jolana Sampson – Songwriter B.L. Reed – Guitar Tom Myers – Drums Jon Estes – Bass
Photo Credit: Eddie Barbash by Jeremy Stanley; Caitlin Canty by Brian Carroll.
The last time Mipso were our Artist of the Month it was 2023, in the run-up to their release of Book of Fools. At that time, I wrote our article unveiling the group as our artists-of-honor with the central conceit of that writing a straightforward but relatively groundbreaking plank in the band’s foundational mission as musicians:
“…[Mipso] aren’t defined by their ambitions; and their ambitions don’t seem to ever be conflated with conquering anything. Instead, this is a band building something.”
Over 13 years, six studio albums, hundreds of millions of streams, and more than 1200 shows, that fact remained true. No matter the shifting sands of their music making, industry successes, and the natural ebb and flow of more than a decade touring and creating together – even in moments of uncertainty, growing pains, and stress – it was always clear, at every juncture, that this band wasn’t just trying to climb industry and corporate ladders toward success. They were building something, not just building towards something.
A few months ago, the group of Wood Robinson, Libby Rodenbough, Jacob Sharp, and Joseph Terrell announced their Farewell For Now Tour and a deliberate and intentional stepping away from the band that was the gravitational center of their lives from their college days into their 30s. Fans and peers around the globe were devastated and saddened. But, with that stalwart keystone at the center of their artistry, it was immediately clear Mipso aren’t abandoning anything. Or walking away from something that will wither, wilt, or die away without them. The “something” they’ve been building has, gratefully, been built to last without themselves or their egos at its core. Their songs, their mission, and their impact are structurally sound, unwavering in the face of the purposeful uncertainty of the band’s next new era.
Mipso perform with Sean Trischka on drums and percussion and special guest fiddler Stephanie Coleman in NYC during their Farewell For Now Tour. Photo by Elliot Crotteau.
Mipso’s final studio recording, the gutting, emotional, and convicting “Singing Song” (released in August) wasn’t originally meant to be such a well-fitting final track from the group. But, whether coincidentally, fatefully, or aptly, it finds in its crosshairs the exact pathway through which Mipso’s legacy can and will live on with or without the band acting as their own life support system.
“Singing Song” imagines a not so far-fetched reality in which songbirds are going extinct in the accelerating climate crisis and humans are assigned birdsongs to help keep alive by singing, refusing to let their avian melodies die, go silent, or be forgotten. It becomes the role of the community itself to hold memories, together, and move into the future with our pasts to help guide and inform of what’s to come.
This is what Mipso have built for us. And they have built it for the eons. Their music will live on in each of us, as we carry their melodies – “Louise” and “Carolina Rolling By” and “People Change” and “Coming Down the Mountain” and so many more – with us into our collective uncertain future. Mipso were never building a mine or a factory or a quarry by which they could extract all the resources they could from us. No, they built us a home. Joist by joist, shingle by shingle. And now, though they may be moving out for a time, we’ve all been invited to maintain this idyllic Carolina mountain shack they’ve gifted to us.
A parting such as this begs the question, “Who will sing for Mipso?” but the answer is immediately obvious and indelible: All of us. Because this band, this impeccable string folk foursome, has never been solely about the people who make it up. It’s always been a community far greater than the simple sum of its parts or only made up of the folks on stage.
Midway through their Farewell For Now Tour, BGS connected with Mipso via Zoom for an in-depth round-table discussion about their decisions to put the band “on the shelf” for a little while. Our conversation was full of intention, nostalgia, and a remarkable variety of ways to look into the future for redemption and renewal.
I wanted to start by having y’all talk a little bit about how you feel about how your mission as a group – prioritizing art and community and building something instead of going somewhere – has informed this decision to pause the band. Whether it’s been stated overtly or has been the undercurrent behind what you’ve all done, that mission is clearly informing this decision as well.
I think some people see this farewell as a switch being turned off and a new thing happening after an old thing goes, but I don’t see it that way at all. I see this as an extension of what you have always been doing, being intentional and deliberate with the group and its purposes. So I wonder what your reactions might be to that, or if you have thoughts about that as we’re talking about this next era that you’re entering together?
Libby Rodenbough: Yeah, I agree with that. I feel like what we’re trying to do here is protect intentionality rather than letting this slow creep of unintentionality take over what we’re doing. It almost feels like that’s the natural inertia of the world, to let anxiety run things for you.
I see this as trying to protect the preciousness of how we’ve done it for so long from an anxious orientation, which I really feel is just like the way the world wants you to think about everything.
Joseph Terrell: That was a beautiful way to put it, Justin. Thank you. And also thanks for being one of our friends and pals and loved ones in this corner of the world for so long. I appreciate the way you’ve just explained us to us. That’s actually very helpful.
I think there are all kinds of “supposed tos” that we allow to rule our lives and tell us what to do next. And this decision, I think, for us to put the band on the shelf for a while is very much a deliberate decision that comes from years of conversation. It’s an attempt to do what we really want to do, on purpose, based on our love for each other and what we’ve built together – as opposed to what’s expected of us or what we are “supposed to do.”
Jacob Sharp: I think there were moments where we did make decisions based on what we thought we should do. We had the benefit of being able to trust each other when we heard from one or many people that it didn’t feel right. Like, we flirted with Nashville, we flirted with content creation and all these things that people are telling us you need to lean into in the industry, you need to lean into online.
There’s an element of this decision right now, of us having realized that something that used to feel really good and obvious was less so in the current version of it. Looking around, I’ve said in different ways that it’s like it’s a blessing to feel full and to be content with that.
All of us are very full on what we’ve been able to do and how we’ve been able to do it. And as we, over the last year and a half, talked about this in different ways and tried different things, it was easy to imagine how it would be irreversibly not good if we kept going down the path that didn’t involve us – in some of this vision that you’re recognizing that has been in different ways at our core throughout.
Wood Robinson: I think that, as we’ve let this decision percolate over [time], we’ve thought through this idea of putting it on the shelf for a little while – probably the first time we genuinely talked about it was on our Europe tour from hell, and there have been many different feelings at many different times. …
You might as well have a really fulfilling and intentional process of arriving at a conclusion that you actually feel good about. And the beautiful thing about music is that it isn’t as if we’re going away. Everyone has links to our entire 15 years of music making on their phones at any time.
When you remove the impetus of an end goal, it immediately becomes so clear that none of this is a zero-sum game, right? None of this is black and white or binary – “We’re done now. We can’t ever do that again.” … These songs, this catalog, this thing that you’ve created together, it has a life that isn’t dependent on all of you continuing to do this the same way that you’ve always done it. And that longevity, that we’re foregrounding right now, I think that is gonna be built on that same foundation of intention.
WR: I’m currently working in conservation and over this past weekend I drove down from Salt Lake City to Zion [National Park], around it, and then back, which was a lot of driving. That’s neither here nor there. I’m very used to that. But I re-listened to the most recent season of Scene On Radio about capitalism. My favorite episode of that is really talking about that [Donella] Meadows book from the ‘70s, The Limits to Growth. It was a very poignant moment of thinking [about how] the growth virus infects everything.
If the only way of thinking of a future for any entity is for it to grow indefinitely, even if you don’t know what it’s supposed to grow into, that’s cancer. If the primary goal of a group is to make music together, is to make beautiful art together, putting it away for a while does nothing to impede that. Maybe the growth mindset really infects that. I was chewing on that when I finished the series and it weighed heavy, but it also reinforced my feeling really good about this decision.
LR: I don’t know if it’s coincidental, Wood, or if we talked about it, but I just finished that season of Scene On Radio as well and I loved that episode. It makes you wonder then, what’s the alternative to growth? To infinite growth.
I feel like the world shows us that it’s death and rebirth. Like death is the natural way for things to go. I think we have a culture that – in a way [is] not unrelated to this cancerous growth mindset – is really afraid of death. Really afraid of talking about death, thinking about death, having rituals about death. Not to be like dramatic or morbid about what we’re doing, but death happens in the natural world every fall.
It’s not necessarily tragic and it’s not world-ending. Conversely, it’s essential for life. I think that saying goodbye to something – I said this at one of our shows in this first little run – but saying goodbye to something is a really good practice, because it’s how I want to go through my life, generally. It’s how I want to relate to life itself, too. That death is part of what makes things beautiful and meaningful.
I didn’t even need to say what I was gonna say, ’cause you just said it! [Laughs] How helpful it is to think about infinite growth as being unsustainable through the lens of nature and ecosystems – what an excellent model. Looking out the windows, stepping outside, literally grounding ourselves in our natural surroundings shows us how stasis, maintenance, renewal, all of those things are equally productive as working 40, 70, 80 hours a week and driving thousands of miles. Just “being” is a lesson that we can all learn.
This connection, the death and renewal of nature and the seasons, it’s making me think of “Singing Song” and it’s making me think of the contours of “Singing Song” being about nature, about environment, and about the Rachel Carson of it all. But also how the song applies to where y’all are at with Mipso at this stage.
Talking about the infinite growth mindset and how it’s pretty well antithetical to how the earth actually works and how we all work as biological beings, the way that y’all draw on nature and the environment to convey the message of “Singing Song” feels so apropos. Can you talk about the song a little bit and can you talk about how, for y’all, if it bumps into or up against any of these things we’re already talking about here?
WR: Obviously, “Singing Song” is about a not-quite-hypothetical world in which all of the birds die and everyone is tasked with singing the song of a bird so that their memory lives on as a ghost among us forever and ever. It wasn’t intended to be quite so on the nose to be the last song that we released before we went away and people were tasked with singing our memories forever and ever. But it really worked out to be a little on the nose there.
I think that there is a real beauty in memory and in the fact that every person is just a little spirit that enters the world and then leaves. Then there are little wisps of that spirit in memories, in people that continued after them until those people’s memories go away. That impermanence becomes permanent in a very poetic way. We haven’t really talked so much outwardly about how that song really worked out well for this moment, but I think that in the context of what we’re talking about now, the conclusion of something, gives it a lot more meaning.
Sometimes I think about how I really love the Marvel universe because it never ends. [Laughs] That feels like a drug to me. I don’t like that I like that. But the world just keeps on building and building and it feels like there’s no intention, because it can’t be let to rest. The reason that it can’t be let to rest is the very growth that we’re talking about.
And sometimes I think about bands who keep on being on tour for 60 years playing the same songs and that just can’t not be sad to me. Always wanting to relive the moments of the past that somehow, like a little bit of morphine, give us meaning in a moment.
JT: I think, at our best, we were doing something we’ve done together that is beautiful in its uniqueness, four people making something that we couldn’t have made on our own together. I’m really proud of us that we’ve never phoned-in the live shows. While it’s easy to be cynical about the music industry part of stuff nowadays, I don’t think we’ve ever been cynical about music making. I really don’t think it’s a stretch to say that concerts, at their best – not just ours – but the spaces that we can create with other people live together in a room, human bodies sweating together. It really is a sacred thing.
Partly this is us being able to say, “Hey, this has been so special and I love you guys and I love what we’ve built. And we wanna do other stuff for a while now.” That attitude has allowed this tour, I think, to be a place where we can really be appreciative and grateful.
We did a few acoustic shows on the last run, just the four of us on stage, and it was really fun. We haven’t done that in a while. We’re standing close together and we’re listening to each other. I like playing with all kinds of people and I love [that] every time I play with new musicians, I’ll learn something. But also, with these four people together, I have this kind of home feeling of just rightness and intuition that I really love. I’m glad we’re able to celebrate that.
“Singing Song” also makes me think of “Who Will Sing For Me?” and the idea of, “Who will sing for Mipso?” Who will carry on the songs of Mipso now? It’s such an easy question to answer, because so many of these songs are so important to so many people.
This tour is a bit of a family reunion, you guys have had some really great special guests, you’ve had and will have some really great openers. You talked a little bit about that feeling of home, never wanting to phone it in for the live shows, and doing the acoustic sets – how has it felt on the Farewell For Now Tour so far? How are audience reactions and what are the takeaways for y’all as you are going through this tour?
LR: It makes me think about how I feel ambivalent about the idea of having a wedding, but if I was gonna have one – I’m single by the way [Laughs] – but if I was gonna have one, I think a lot of the motivation would be to get people together. So, in some ways, I see this tour as just an occasion. It’s an occasion for getting together, an occasion for thinking about the past together. And it’s been an occasion for me to look through all my old photos and try to make sense of my many overlapping memories of tours, of the same cities in geographic regions, and certainly an occasion to get our friends together and play songs.
When you’re doing tours interminably, it doesn’t feel like you can really make an ask of people as easily. But if you’re like, “Hey, this is maybe the last time we’re ever gonna play,” it’s kind of a trump card on people’s schedules. [Laughs] In the same way as getting married, we at least maintain the fiction that it only happens once in every life.
JS: One funny thing, Justin, was we have known this was coming for a long time and our fans have, too. We announced it a number of months ago, but night one of each of these shows is really specific. Like, to what city and what venue we’re playing. There’s a reason.
Night one [of the tour] was in Seattle, a place that we all really love and have had great times at Tractor Tavern, one of our favorite venues. We came out loose, joking, irreverent. And our fans were so sad. Not all of them, but they were having this moment of sadness. It was one funny thing that we have talked about in the intervening days, is we need to try and rectify the difference between where our emotional space is and where certain crowds are, because there is an element of this where it’s a gift to ourselves and also we hope it’s a gift for our fans.
‘Cause we know what it feels like or what it would feel like to know you weren’t gonna see your potentially favorite band again. If we are that for anybody, we want them to have this moment to commune one more time with us and the other people in their community that connect with the music and with the songs themselves.
It’s been funny to feel this emotional responsibility of occupying both the reality of where we’re at with it emotionally and also where we might imagine other people are – both in the music and the presence and how we talk about it. But it is that nature of it being, to Joseph’s point, the sacred space that we’ve gotten to occupy together a lot more than we could have ever imagined. It is like this final gift that we’re giving to ourselves of getting to do it within a very definite and intentional manner for this final month.
Maybe I’m putting carts before horses – never done that before in my life – but as you guys are looking to the future, what is Mipso potentially gonna look like over the next 13 years? Is it maybe going to be like Nickel Creek or Bonny Light Horseman or boygenius? We get a record cycle maybe once every few years, a sold-out tour.
As you are looking to the future, do you have any sort of sense of what the models are that you’re looking at or what sort of rhythm you might picture as a best case scenario for how Mipso might be a part of your individual constellations of creativity as you move forward? Have you had any discussions about that?
JS: Yeah, we don’t know. I think the point of taking a break is to be able to see that question clearly, because when you’re so in-the-rhythm as we were, it was a given that there was always another tour and it was a given that you prioritize Mipso creatively, timewise. That was the spoken and unspoken contract for the majority of our adult lives.
I think of it now as like Mipso became this drug, like our phones do. I want to be rewired from that, I want to be away from it long enough that I can know why I’m picking up the phone, why I’m picking up the Mipso, why I’m thinking about these songs. And for that answer and the meaning behind it to be the “why” of if we would ever do it again.
But of course, it’s funny, as soon as you announce a farewell tour promoters are like, “Great, can we add something next weekend? What about this festival next year? Here’s a reunion tour.” We think we need a pretty long break to know if and why we would do it again.
JT: I’m proud of us for not having figured that out yet, because it wouldn’t be a true stepping away if we had that plan in place.
The one idea I do [love] is that if we get The Onlies and like Palmyra and a couple of other groups that, on a rotating basis over the next 10 years, we can always have an active Mipso going made up of some of them and they could just kinda keep it going on the road without us.
WR: Yeah, I feel like if we had an answer to that [question] it would be destroying the point of the tour itself, at least for my own part. I think the point is to be open to it, but not planning anything. I don’t think that any of us are absolutely adamant that we never play music together as the four of us in a public setting again. To say that we’re putting it away, but we’re actually gonna start a festival next summer, would feel disingenuous to the people that are having strong emotions about it right now.
LR: I would say honest openness – an honest relationship with the lack of control that we have over the future – that’s becoming central to my life. Philosophy has become central over the last few years. It’s not only that I like being open, I do like the feeling of it. I like relinquishing control, but I also believe that it is true. And I also believe that a great deal of unhappiness comes from people trying to exert control over things they have no control over. They wanna control outcomes. That’s not possible. I don’t think that’s a human ability. So I think we’re really trying to love our humanness and not try to impose superpowers that we don’t have.
Mipso take a bow after the close of their NYC stop on their Farewell For Now Tour. Photo by Elliot Crotteau.
I know all of you have been working on other projects, other music – other projects in your lives that aren’t music as well. As we’re thinking about what’s next, as we put Mipso away for a little while, what’s filling you up? What’s exciting you? When you wake up in the morning, what is the thing that you’re ready to pour yourself into, bring to the world, and have that energy reflected back at you – in the same way as when you were getting Mipso up and running and started?
LR: I think, when I wake up here at Rare Bird [Farm], where I have a cabin where I live on my own, I usually don’t have to do anything first thing in the morning. I just start strumming the guitar and singing lines. It just feels like there will never be an end to the pleasure of doing that.
And I think I might even love it more now that I’m not thinking about an album cycle at all. It’s very motivating to me to just think all I’m doing, like the whole cycle, is contained in this moment. Something filtering through me and I sing it and it goes out into the ether.
JT: [To Jacob and Wood] Come on, you guys have really obvious answers to this.
JS: Okay, Wood and I both have wives that are pregnant, Justin!
Oh my god, congratulations! We’re gonna get Mipso second gen.
JS: Thank you!
Yeah, what’s next? My year has been so defined by change – unexpected, forced, and then chosen – that I’m excited for stability and for building a home in my former home, North Carolina, again, but in a very different way. And for the first time ever to not be looking at multiple years of calendars filled with tours and the ideas of tours.
I’m welcoming all the insecurities that have already started to creep up because of that. And I’m looking forward to finding answers about how I’m different than maybe I thought I was in the absence of this ecosystem, this rhythm of life, and with the baby in tow and how that changes the type of music I wanna make. And with whom.
I imagine letting the moss grow over the rolling stone that is not rolling anymore. Like what a novel feeling. We’ll watch it grow.
LR: That sounds so soft.
Wait, what is my identity if I’m not traveling constantly? If I don’t live in airports and hotels? Will people care about me? Will I be remembered? And then, you see the little inchworm on the moss and you’re like, “Oh, that’s all that matters anyway.”
JS: Yeah, you don’t have to answer those questions when you’re always filling the space with something else. I’m eager for some answers in that space.
JT: I was just outside while you’re asking that question – I’ve never had a dog before. I’ve never lived with an animal that I took care of. I love her so much. My other three bandmates have all done that, been through that phase a little bit more than I have. But I just moved back to North Carolina, too, and I’m feeling a little bit of that homey warmth. I’m so excited to plant some persimmon trees and to finish building this house that I’ve been working on for a few years.
That really does get me so excited to wake up and work on that. That’s the place that I can make music and have people over and really feel at home. It’s a version of that homey life that we haven’t really had as much of an opportunity to do for whatever, 12 years.
WR: I’m in a similar space to Jacob with there being a crazy amount of changes. But one thing that I have really come to terms with, that I recognize about myself, is that I really like being exhausted at the end of the day from a lot of work. From a lot of either physical or emotional work that feels like I made not forward motion in the sense of going for growth like I said, but forward motion.
So in conservation [work] I feel very fulfilled, because there is a tangible aspect of protection and feeling like I’m fighting a deliberate and pronounced fight for the future of that. Hopefully my kid inherits that. I always knew that I liked being tired at the end of the day, but I’m really excited to recognize a sort of routine that is within a smaller world than Mipso inhabited, but with a real, pronounced, and just fight that I’m fighting within it.
I feel a lot of gratitude right now for getting to be a small, small star in the constellation of Mipso in so many different ways over the years. And honestly, it will always be one of the things I’m most proud of to be misattributed as a Mipso member in 2017 by the Raleigh News & Observer. Huge moment for us all. [Laughs] That’s going on my bio for the rest of my life!
JS: Justin, I would say likewise to you. Now that we’re actively in the present nostalgia of saying goodbye to different cities and songs and motions together, the thing that’s hardest for me to imagine fully saying goodbye to is the built-in excuse of seeing this wide community that’s spread across the world. That we’ve built together with frequency and getting catch-ups on your life and hearing reflections on how you understand things that have happened to us that you’ve heard about or seen in the music or the shows.
That’s something I value so much and you’ve been a treasured part of that, so thank you. I really appreciate that.
JT: Totally. Thank you, Justin. One of our most trusted narrators over the last many years. Thank you for playing that role for others.
Photo Credit: Photos courtesy of Mipso, shot by Elliot Crotteau.
Artist:Elexa Dawson Hometown: Emporia, Kansas Latest Album:Stay Put (released September 12, 2025) Personal Nicknames (or rejected band names): A lot of my friends call me Lexy
If you had to write a mission statement for your career, what would it be?
“Music is Medicine.” My songs and the ideas behind them are almost always in response to a heartache or mental puzzle that I find myself working out through lyrics and music. Some of my most positive and uplifting songs were written during times when I was experiencing a lot of hopelessness and depression. The songs are medicine for me, first, and then it’s a privilege to get to share these songs with people who reflect that healing effect back to me.
The most common comment I get from audiences is that they were able to cry during my set and, while that’s not what I set out to do, I lean into it, because in our Potawatomi traditions, tears are healing waters that need to flow through our bodies to help us move on beyond difficulties. So really, it’s an honor to be able to guide someone through an emotion like that.
Which elements of nature do you spend the most time with and how do they impact your work?
I’ve always been obsessed with food, foraging, and natural medicines, so I’d have to say plants. They are older than us humans and they remember how to survive through experiences that haven’t happened to them, but happened to generations before them, which is fascinating to me. They work with mycelium, the fungal strands that transmit messages and food through the soil network between their roots.
“Roots Grow” is all about how roots support life in darkness, and how important compost is to life, which teaches me what to do with the dead and decaying parts of myself that need composting. Plants are one of my greatest teachers.
What’s the most difficult creative transformation you’ve ever undertaken?
This is an interesting question, because the creative transformations that I’ve already undertaken are in hindsight. The obstacles have been overcome and the one I’m currently staring down is always the one I’m having the most difficulty with. The perennial theme is that there is always a tense relationship between the creation of music as a cathartic human exercise and the presentation of the music to the music industry and fans.
I think there’s always an insecurity that the artist feels when they put out new things. With Stay Put being released, I’m feeling simultaneously on edge about reviews and immensely proud of this really unique and singular moment in my creative process where Peter Oviatt (Moonflower Sounds) and I were able to create something that I think stands out, whether the response is as big as I think is deserved or not. I create for myself, but who doesn’t want to see their name on a chart?
If you didn’t work in music, what would you do instead?
I’d be working with the land more and hopefully not alone. I’ve got a degree in sustainable agriculture and while I love my messy garden outside my house, I would love to work with a team on a farm. I started a nonprofit called Good Way Gardens where we produce a monthly lawn concert series that’s free and open to the community and provides access to our educational garden spaces where we grow a lot of pollinator-benefitting plants, as well as a lot of native plants like the four sisters (corn, beans, squash, and sunflowers). It has been on a very small scale and we are working to increase our capacity for next year. So really, I found a way to put music and gardening together, which is a dream come true.
Since food and music go so well together, what is your dream pairing of a meal and a musician?
I’m a big Walnut Valley Festival evangelist. I’ve been attending this bluegrass festival in Winfield, Kansas, for 27 years. My all-femme bluegrass-adjacent vocal group, Weda Skirts, is performing on the main stages for the fourth year in a row. That’s where Heyleon, another group I’ve had the pleasure of recording a lot of material with, was born.
Food and music are all over that place there and one of my campmates is famous for his smoked meat. At the time of my writing this, the festival is approaching and I have to say my perfect pairing is Dusty’s bacon and a jam session at my campsite, which is home to Weda Skirts and also members of The Dewayn Brothers, Bad Chuck and the Bad Dreams, The Bennett Brothers, and Cowgirl’s Train Set. I am also really looking forward to sitting in the grandstands, eating a big plate of greek salad and dolmas, and watching John Depew Trio on Stage 1, who are friends and also phenomenal players. It’s their first time on the big stages and I’m ecstatic that more folks will be able to hear their genius. Winfield is home, and I can’t wait to go back.
The road less traveled is always the road most traveled by singer-songwriter Eric D. Johnson, better known under the performing name of Fruit Bats. Johnson thrives in a world of creative dichotomy: he loves deadlines as much as he cherishes random twists and turns in his process.
He’s been making music this way for years, since time spent on the Chicago music scene, through his days with Califone, The Shins, and the creation and continuation of Fruit Bats. There’s also Bonny Light Horseman, the indie trio where he partners with renowned musicians and songwriters Josh Kaufman and Anaïs Mitchell. Their most recent album, Keep Me on Your Mind/See You Free, was released last year.
Johnson’s latest Fruit Bats project is Baby Man, a full-length album recorded earlier this year with longtime producer and friend Thom Monahan. The album is a reunion of sorts, after Johnson self-produced 2023’s A River Running To Your Heart.
Baby Man, which is his voice, guitar, piano, and little else, was an unexpected project – another deviation from original blueprint onto the less-traveled road. And one that called for Monahan’s expertise and sonic touch. The outcome, says Johnson, is “intimate and yet big. There wasn’t a lot of fuss over arrangements. Everything you hear came out of my hands or mouth earlier that day or the day before.”
It was early morning on the West Coast when Eric D. Johnson settled in to speak with BGS. “This is my second interview on this,” he noted about Baby Man, “so you’re hearing me work this out in real time in my brain.”
You have detailed this many times: iPhone voice memos, demoing, writing, the studio as a writing tool. You like a deadline, you like mistakes, you like left turns. Was this album true to method?
Eric D. Johnson: Yes. This was the leftiest of all left turns you could possibly take, because the original plan was a very lo-fi hair-metal covers album. [It was] basically a midterm project between album cycles.
During the pandemic I had done this full album cover of Smashing Pumpkins’ Siamese Dream. I had no real expectation for it other than a pandemic exercise/fun sort of bedroom thing and it hit a little bit. Everything I do is ambitious in some way, but this was a “throw something at the wall” idea originally and not a big deal.
I was talking to Thom Monahan, my producer/mentor. We hadn’t worked together in a few albums, although we’re still dear friends. I always talk to him before I make something, which is like, “What microphone do I put on this?” I’m asking all these questions, we ended up chatting for an hour and by the end of the conversation I was like, “I think you should do this record.”
This was all over the course of a very short amount of time in February. I started writing songs and I realized I was starting to do what I do, which is write a diary. Most of my records, songwriter-wise, are what’s happening now.
This record turned into something that was me and Thom working for probably a week and a half. It wasn’t a mandate I laid down, but the whole record was written and recorded in that space, which I almost never do. It’s usually fragments of things I’ve been putting together from notebooks or demos or sketches that are a year or more than a year old. So everything you hear is a week in the life.
When we delivered it to the record label [Merge], again thinking it was a midterm project, they were like, “This is really good. This is a real album.” So the hair-metal covers record will happen someday, but instead you get Baby Man.
How has your working relationship with Thom grown and developed?
If I had a breakthrough album, it’s probably Gold Past Life [2019], which was my last thing with Thom before this. I think that was us at the height of our language with each other in some ways.
I’ve learned everything from him. When we were first starting to work together, on Tripper [2011], I was just learning how to use Pro Tools and how to use the studio as a tool for writing. I would make demos and Thom would come in with a blowtorch on them, because I didn’t really know what I was doing yet.
We made a couple more records, and by the time you hear the stuff on Absolute Loser [2016] and Gold Past Life, if you went back and listened to the original demos, they’re surprisingly not that different. That’s Thom trusting me more, being like, “This sounds pretty good.” Obviously he adds an incredible boost to them. There are songs on that record, too, where Thom completely dismantled them and was like, “This sucks,” because he’s not afraid to tell me he thinks something sucks. Which is good. You need the extra pair of ears. So we kind of have a shared mind when we’re working together.
What have you learned from Thom that applies to your own production work? For example, Sarah Klang’s Beautiful Woman album.
I don’t do tons of it, but when I produce other artists, it comes from that demoing process I learned from Thom, where you go from skeleton of song, to demo, to studio project, to finished product. With Sarah, we worked together as writers first. When you write with me, and this has happened a couple times, we’re making demos and we realize, “We’re making a record now.”
That was what happened with Sarah. It was very similar to what Thom and I do together, which is me building a demo and then giving it to him. But in this case, you build a demo, you keep building it, go into a nice, big studio, and all that. So that was what that was about. It started off as a writing session and it snowballed into a record.
You’re taking Baby Man on the road. Alone. Could you strip it down any more than that?
It’s terrifying. I have no idea what to expect. Fruit Bats concerts have become big, rollicking rock shows. The audiences have grown and people have a good time. I think of it as a very intimate experience, but as much as we’re in the folk-rock realm, they’re big rock shows.
I’m nervous about this. I’ve obviously played solo shows, and I think I know how to do it, but there is a certain contract you have to have with the audience for that. You can’t just close your eyes and push through it. You have an extra responsibility to connect.
I’m always concerned with that, and not in a bad way. But if I’m playing to 1800 people, in my mind I still want to make eye contact with every single one of them, even though I know that’s not possible. So with the solo show, where it’s a little more intimate, you probably are going to make eye contact with however many people are there. It’s going to be very exposing and I don’t know what to expect.
You’ve said before that Fruit Bats is half your life and each album is like a chapter, a piece of an autobiography. Which chapter is this?
This chapter is … I am hesitant to say midlife, because I don’t know. My cliché answer is, “I’ve gotten better at making myself understood, but I care less about ma king myself understood.” When you’re a younger writer, you’re like, “You don’t get this!” Now I’m like, “You’ll get it, or if you don’t, that’s cool.”
I think I’m writing really well now. The very early Fruit Bats records are enigmatic because I didn’t know how to write yet. I came from indie rock. I came from Pavement. I loved Stephen Malkmus, and he wasn’t writing about feelings. And I had played in Califone, and those are impressionistic lyrics, very visual, so I was doing that.
When I accidentally wrote a love song with “When U Love Somebody” [Mouthfuls], in 2003, it kind of hit. I was never emo. Even though I’m from the emo generation and from Illinois, where all the emo dudes came from, I wasn’t doing emo. Maybe this is my emo period, I guess you could say. With Baby Man, there is that kind of feel. I’m writing some pretty direct stuff, but I still have my impressionistic side that gets smeared in.
Where does Bonny Light Horseman fit into that?
My work with them is not unlike my work with Thom, which is to say, it’s been an education. Josh Kaufman, as a producer, has been influential on my production and the way I approach albums, too, because he’s totally different from Thom.
Of course Anaïs, as a writer, has had a massive effect on me because she’s meticulous. She makes you be like, “What did you mean by this line?” So I’ve learned writing from her, and production and writing from Josh because he writes as well. Like with everything, you take things from it as you move along. I’m definitely “the guy in a band” in that band, the professional guy in a band.
On “Creature From The Wild,” you address pet loss and grief, which is too often met with “Just get another one,” as if the can opener stopped working, so just buy a replacement. Tell us about Pinto and the song.
Pinto was my first dog and, obviously, once you get a dog, the joys, the familiarity of it, and the relationship is really special. And Pinto was a unique dog. He was sort of a person, sort of a cat, but also a dog.
You raise pets and it’s such a foolish endeavor for us; it’s such a horrible thing that we do to ourselves, because we raise them like our children, but they have a lifespan of 15 years and so you have to understand that. You’re right – some people are like, “Get another one,” but I do think a lot of people get it, if they get it.
That was a song I wrote completely while on a run, into a voice memo, at about 10 a.m. The recording you hear is at 1 p.m., three hours later. The notion that they save you, the “for a while” part, is that these love relationships are destined to be fleeting.
I also wanted to write directly about him. He was a Mexican street dog, so I wanted to write a hero story and think of him as a little heroic hobo and it was a little bit of a hero’s journey for him. I was just trying to write what I know. It’s a love song. Grief really is love. My publicist Colette and I had a Zoom call over it and we both cried.
A portion of sales from the track and pre-orders are going to the Baja Street Dogs rescue.
Yeah. Pinto was a Baja street dog, not from that rescue, but there’s tons down there. This guy, this rescue, is like a shepherd. He has a flock of dogs. He rescues so many; the breadth of his work is really impressive. It’s his life’s work, which is fascinating to see somebody do something like that.
We have a lot of big problems in the world right now, which I totally get, and there’s probably bigger fish to fry in some ways than rescuing dogs. But there’s a certain eye-level universality to loving a dog, for me. They help us. There’s always the cliché of “We don’t deserve dogs.” And I’m like, “Fuck no, we don’t.”
You have spoken about music and mental health in the past. You’ve said that while you find your music riddled with anxiety, people say they find it comforting.
In the press materials, quoting, “Again and again, Baby Man sees Johnson ask a central question: Is any of this worth it? The album is the answer, a resounding ‘yes.’” But some of the lyrics … in “Let You People Down, ” it’s “days that I’ve wished that I cease to exist.”
I can say, with all honesty, that’s not suicidal ideation I’m writing about necessarily, even though it sounds like it might be butting up right against that and I’m trying to speak to it. If someone wanted to take that as that, I would allow it, but that’s not… my other publicist, Jim, really loved the record, but his first question was, “Are you okay?”
I’ve lost friends who ended their lives – Neal Casal and Richard Swift, who died from alcohol. In many ways it was a slow suicide, when you drink yourself to death in that way. So it’s some big, grownup shit, but that specific line isn’t about that per se. It’s “This world is hard.” It’s more like, “I wish I’d never been born,” but that’s not a direct nod to ending one’s life, either. It’s about the burden of living, which, like I said, certainly could butt up against something like that. I’ll let people take what they want from it. It’s a song about wanting to love and be loved.
Then there’s “That’s why I’m trying so hard not to die.” [“Moon’s Too Bright”]
Yeah. Again, the line, “I’ve never been good with goodbyes,” and death is the biggest goodbye, so I’m not singing about killing oneself. I’m saying, “Wouldn’t it be sad to leave? Isn’t it sad to leave? Isn’t it sad to say goodbye?”
I’ve always written a little bit about this stuff, but usually there’s a disco beat, which I love. I love the happy/sad nexus, like “A Lingering Love” [Gold Past Life], which has become this kind of pop hit. It’s really sad, but it’s got the “Dancing Queen” beat behind it. It’s the total cliché of “I’m laying myself bare lyrically.” I always have, but I think because of the production, you’re hearing it more.
I’m not afraid to answer you on those [questions], nor am I denying that I’m talking about some pretty heavy stuff in there. People can hear what they want to hear from it, but the central song of the record in some ways is “Baby Man,” which is some sort of Buddhist notion where I wasn’t alive before 1976. I was gone. I was dead before 1976. “Where were you during the Renaissance?” Those types of questions. “Baby Man” is this cyclical kind of Buddhist song – not to get too heady about it.
So my sad stuff always has an undercurrent of hope, and this record there’s a little bit of that in there, too. But the hope is sometimes buoyed by disco beats, and this one doesn’t have that.
Let’s end on a high note with a lightning round on a topic that comes up in many of your interviews: The Beatles. A Beatles song that always makes you feel good.
Ooh, this is real lightning round! I’m circling back on early Beatles, so “Please Please Me.” I probably would’ve said a Paul song from the White Album, if you’d asked me that not long ago, but I’m into older Beatles. Smash Hits has been my jam lately.
Most underrated Beatles album.
Is there an underrated one? Once again, I’ll say probably the early ones, like Help, but I don’t know if there’s an underrated one, because people who don’t like The Beatles will say they’re overrated, so you can’t say there’s an underrated one, but probably the early ones. Let’s say Help.
Beatles album you most would have liked to be a fly on the wall in the studio while they recorded it.
I probably would’ve said Let It Be, but then we got to be with that movie, which was one of the most astounding pieces of documentary filmmaking I’ve ever seen in my life. I couldn’t believe it. It was like finding the Dead Sea Scrolls. So I’m going to say White Album, because that’s the one that sounds the most like four solo records and I know it was a really fraught process, too. For a long time, in high school and stuff, that was my most influential Beatles record, so I’m going to say White Album.
The throughline from bluegrass to The Beatles.
Oh, that’s easy! A lot of people don’t realize how young bluegrass is of a genre, but the throughline from early American folk and country music to early rock and roll to The Beatles seems pretty simple to me – bluegrass obviously being its own little split-off in the 1950s… not to get all ethnomusicology on it!
Adam Wright is a songwriter’s songwriter. An artist’s songwriter. A poet whose medium is best set to music. And not just any music, but the absolute highest echelons of bluegrass and country – radio, real, outlaw, Americana, and everything in between and beside. He writes daily from an office nestled between Music Square East and Music Square West in Nashville – the fabled Music Row.
His songs have been cut by stars like Alan Jackson, Lee Ann Womack, Garth Brooks, Trisha Yearwood, Brandy Clark, and Robert Earl Keen. In bluegrass, bands like Balsam Range and Lonesome River Band have carried his originals high up the charts, and he’s co-written with many players in the genre, like Sierra Hull, for example. His songwriting and its distinct, intentional, and artistic voice has gained him award nominations from the GRAMMYs, the Americana Honors & Awards, and the IBMA Bluegrass Music Awards.
Since early February of this year, Wright has been leaving a trail of musical breadcrumbs online and on streaming platforms, teasing out his brand new album, Nature of Necessity, in four parts, which he calls “sides.” Along with singles peppering the release cycle throughout the following months, the prior three sides of the project finally convene with the fourth today, September 25, as a coalesced and cohesive project of 18 songs. The novel delivery mechanism for Nature of Necessity feels like an extension of the intentionality Wright brings to each of these literary, textural, and fantastic songs. They each stand alone, certainly, but together they sing.
These are not Music Row fodder, or craven attempts at radio hits, or tracks churned out day-in-and-day-out for volume and viral potential. These are passion projects. Ideas and stories that stuck in Wright’s creative craw and demanded much more deliberate treatments. It’s not as though songs written with the bottom line in mind can’t be this successful as works of art – they often are. It’s just that it’s immediately tangible to the listener that these works by Adam Wright aren’t just some of his best, they were clearly written and produced without a single thought towards saleability. Rather, Wright and his creative partners – especially producer Frank Liddell – gave each of these songs the artistic treatment they deserved on their own merits as stories and tableaus, vignettes and pantomimes.
If you remember when Bob Dylan was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature in 2016, there was a whole lot of “discourse” on the internet as to the actual literary value of songs and lyrics. It’s a painfully on the nose, forest for the trees moment to even have to accept the premise of that debate in order to refute it. But with a writer like Adam Wright – ever so rare in country and roots music and becoming even more endangered still – it’s easy, direct, and demonstrable connecting the dots between literature and songwriting. Nature of Necessity being 18 compelling points on that trail. With this album, Wright should perhaps be offered a term as the poet laureate of Music Row. Let each of its four sides stand as a resumé.
I really love the sonics of the album, the production. I’m a bluegrass banjo player, so when I listen to records I want to hear the pick noise, I want to hear the room, I want to hear the distance between a singer’s lips and the microphone. I want it to sound like music and I want it to sound like a moment in time.
Granted, I listen to a lot of music that doesn’t check any of those boxes and I like it a lot for sure, but the first thing I noticed about this album was that it sounds not just live, but alive. Can you talk about that and can you talk about how you accomplished it? It feels like, having heard so much of Frank [Liddell’s] work as producer that he was probably a perfect partner to accomplish that production style, too.
Adam Wright: Yeah, he absolutely was. And we wanted the same thing. We wanted it to be live and to sound live. With all the flaws inherent in performance, like a full unedited, undoctored performance.
‘Cause I’m like you – I’m a pretty poor listener currently but I have, in my long life of listening, listened to an awful lot of music and studied a lot of it. I know when I’m listening to a song that was gridded and then a singer came in and sang very carefully and then they cut it up and got it right. Because I’ve made records like that, too.
You sound your best that way, you truly do. It is so flattering to have someone do that to you and then listen back and go, “Wow, I sound fantastic.” So what I’ve enjoyed, for some reason, [is] getting used to what I sound like, giving it my best effort on a play down all the way through, one whole take, and go, “That’s what I sound like.”
It’s like looking at yourself like in a hotel mirror. [They] are the worst mirrors in the world. Like you go in the bathroom in the hotel room and you look awful and can’t figure out why. Something about the lighting or the quality of the lighting or where they’re placed. Every time I’m in a hotel mirror, I’m just like, “What am I doing out in the world?”
It’s a little bit like that. You listen back to yourself, play this song, and you go, “Man… that is not perfect.” There are things I just really dislike about the way I sing certain things on this record, the way I played. I hear me failing the whole way through. ‘Cause we did track it live. Me and Matt Chamberlain and Glenn Worf tracked us a three-piece, me on acoustic and singing with bass and drums. The idea was just to keep all of that as it is, intact, which we did.
I told Glenn, I said, “You’re the lead instrument. No one’s coming to save us. If something has to happen, we just have to do it right now.” We recorded it with that philosophy. The meat of it is my playing and singing with Glenn and Matt and we didn’t fiddle with it. The caveat was, “Okay, we can add things, but this has to remain what it is.” Whatever we did has to be live as it happened.
We did it a bunch of times. We did every song like seven times. So if I didn’t get it, is it gonna get better? No. That’s how I sing that line, obviously. There was some freedom in that … I’ve just gotten to enjoy it.
These feel like songs for you and not songs to sell or to get cut or to pitch on Music Row. Like, they feel like songs that, as they came out of you, you may have been squirreling them away, caching them for yourself for the future. I wanted to see if that was true or if that resonated with you. To me, they’re poetic and they’re literary without being “pick me” or “try hard.” They’re really thoughtful. I love your lyricism because it’s not too esoteric. But, these traits aren’t exactly regarded as commercial. So how did this collection end up… collected?
That’s exactly how that went. And thank you for the kind words, too. I do write every day for a publisher. Usually that means co-writing. I co-write almost every day of the week. Whether I want to or not. I’m usually writing with younger artists that want a record deal or have a record deal and they have some ambitions about the commercial music industry – and for some reason they thought I could help them. [Laughs] As misguided as that is, that’s usually what our job is in that moment. I don’t think a lot about, “Hey kid, I got a hit for you.” My brain just doesn’t really work that way. I just try to write a really good song that I think is tailored towards that particular artist.
I do a lot of that, but I would never try to force one of these ideas like [that] are on this record on someone that is trying to do something like that. This is a different endeavor. I do categorize it differently. That co-writing with people for their records or for whatever they would like to do is almost like a day job. And these songs are my night job. So they are very different. It feels like a different writing brain altogether. The process of writing ’em is very different. It’s not two hours of looking at each other. Some took me weeks, just because I couldn’t unlock ’em, but I kept tinkering away. It’s a much different thing.
I want to find out the deepest realization of whatever the story was or the idea or the character that I decided the song was gonna be about. Just follow that rabbit through the woods as deep into it and as dark as it got, that’s what we were gonna do. It’s rewarding! It’s a lot of work and it takes a long time and I’m so busy at the moment. I don’t know if I could write some of those songs right now. If you told me to write a song that had a lot of Latin in it about watching the dawn, I’m not sure I could pull it off. [Laughs]
But you know how it is when you find these things. You get a hold of this little spark, you follow it, and then at some point it dims a little. Then you’re looking for another spark to light up. I’m currently between sparks – I’m writing every day, but I haven’t found a new thread that I just can’t wait to chase yet. But sometimes you get a little hint of it.
Let’s talk about some of the music. On “Dreamer and The Realist,” are you the dreamer? Are you the realist? Is it about you?
I never really decided if I contain enough pragmatism to be both a dreamer and a realist. Like in some ways I am. Like when my wife says, “Hey, we’re going to Disney World,” that’s what we’re doing. I would never decide to go to Disney World [on my own], because I don’t like fun. [Laughs] But once I know I’ve gotta go, then I can get pragmatic about it.
But aside from those types of things, I’m pie in the sky. If I could stare out a window 10 hours a day every day for the rest of my life and not starve to death, I would do it.
Thank you!
All I really want to do is walk around the world and roll around inside my own brain. That sounds fascinating to me forever, endlessly. And not because I have a fascinating brain, just because I think it’s fun to just go, “What if” and then, “What if” and then, “What if.”
I feel like this is a long way of trying to say, I feel like everyone is some combination of a dreamer and a realist. Or you couldn’t function. But certainly nobody’s all dreamer or all realist, I don’t think. I think we all compartmentalize our dreaming and our realism to certain areas of our life and hopefully we each find someone that compensates for, or augments, [ourselves] in ways. And that’s never perfect. There’s always like a dueling going on with all that stuff. But I love the push and pull of it; within myself and within a relationship. There’s music in all of that I’ll always find it very interesting. The song really is within the same person.
With “All the Texas,” which features Patty Griffin, one of the first things I thought when I heard it was of Lyle Lovett’s “That’s Right (You’re Not From Texas).” Plus, I was thinking about this moment in time with Texas and politics and the culture wars. Country music tends to feature this thinking like, “Everyone loves Texas and you should too!” “Don’t we all agree, Texas is great??” And then you look at what’s happening in Texas and you’re like, “Oh my gosh, Texas. What the hell?” I’ve had all the Texas…
Help us help you, please! Exactly.
Can you talk to me a little bit about that song? Because I have a feeling that there’s much more going on than just the way we’re all feeling about Texas these days.
It really was written before Texas got so Texas-y, recently. I don’t remember what year it was, but it was probably four or five years ago. Texas is always pretty Texas-y, but this was before it got super Texas-y. It was just about a night opening for Patty Griffin there at the Moody [Center] in Austin. It was just a whirlwind of a trip; flew in day of show, ran around Austin for half an afternoon, and then played a show.
She’s so supernatural. There’s just something like… sorcery around her. Anytime you’re around her, she doesn’t come off that way. She doesn’t walk around like talking wizard speak or anything; she’s just such a lovely, cute, normal, funny individual. But there’s still something that swirls around her that is just supernatural.
With all of that, I was like jotting things down, like the whole 24 hours that we were there. I just kept getting like little snatches of things and they all started to have this kind of mythical quality to ’em. Some of it’s literal, the Driskill and all of that stuff was true. But it turns into a sort of dream logic, mythical stuff – which is like watching [Patty] perform. It was an exercise in playing with almost like a journal entry of that experience and then distorting it with mythical language or symbolism.
I also love “Weeds” – and not just because Lee Ann [Womack] is on it. But also because I am obsessed with wildflowers, with native gardening, and habitat restoration. Something that struck me about that line, “Heaven is a meadow with no weeds” is perhaps heaven is a place where we finally understand that a “weed” is a social construct, right? A weed is a plant that we’ve decided is in a place where it shouldn’t be, but maybe we’re the ones where we shouldn’t be–
Yeah, that’s right.
Maybe we changed so much of the environment that we look out and we see a weed, but that plant has been here all along. And [the habitat is] probably supposed to be all weeds.
Exactly.
When I heard “Weeds” I also thought of Dolly’s song “Wildflowers” and the idea of, “What is the difference between a wildflower and a weed?” So, in my own mind, I heard that line as maybe you get to heaven and you realize all these weeds were wildflowers the whole time. Maybe I’m projecting. [Laughs]
I don’t know how the farmer’s perspective developed [on that song], I just don’t remember. And I’m not trying to put any sort of romanticism on it, it just didn’t come to me. I don’t remember what the jump was, but I remember why I started the song initially. I was at the library looking for something new to read and I came across this book, it was like a catalog of late-1800s farming equipment and the techniques and things. You could order out of these catalogs in like, 1870-whatever.
It also had articles about how to fix your wagon or what to do about this particular tractor part. How to deal with a stubborn mule or a pig that wouldn’t do what you wanted them to do. I thought it was fascinating, and the language of it – I love lingo so much. I love getting into some endeavor or line of work or character where there’s lots of language that I haven’t heard before. Like specialized language to a particular job or whatever. This book was full of it. I was just fascinated by all of it.
The whole thing about the last verse about the pig, all of that, it’s just outta the catalog. Those were all things [from the book]. Like, “Are you dealing with a hog who’s ill-formed? And unquiet in his mind? Here’s what you can do.” I found it all so interesting.
Then the middle verse about the tramp, to me he was dressed in soldiers’ clothes. I imagined he’d been shot and was laid over this farmer’s fence. It would have been just at the close of the Civil War era stuff. I wanted all of it to hang together, but with all of these strange things going on the overarching thing is this farmer going, “I can’t get rid of these weeds.” Why does he care? I don’t know. I just liked the guy [because] the thing that sort of kept him going was that his eternal reward might be a meadow without all of these weeds in it.
Your career has intersected with bluegrass and has been part of your career in so many ways. You’re a picker – which is one of the first things I noticed about this album, you guys tracking it live means we get to hear you pick the guitar. All these bluegrass folks have cut your songs, you’ve been nominated for an IBMA Award. What does the genre mean to you? And of course, the inseparable community that comes with it. How does that fit into the constellation of how you make music, songwrite, and be creative in general?
That’s interesting. I love the world of bluegrass. Maybe I’m just a little particular. Like, if you looked at all genres of music as slices of a pie, there’s really only a sliver that I really love. Out of any genre. Whether it be jazz or a big band or blues or bluegrass or classic country or rock, there’s really only a little bit of it that I really like and most of it, the rest of it I find I can leave alone. Not quite for me.
But I always said, good bluegrass might be the best music ever. Like, when it’s good and it’s right. I wish I had started trying to play that kind of music when I was younger. I got fascinated with it too late to physically do it at a level that I appreciate. I can distinguish the difference in the nuances of really great players, but I’m not able to do that. I don’t lose a lot of sleep over it, but I’ve probably got carpal tunnel trying to figure out Tony Rice licks a few times in my life. There’s so much of it that I really like and I love.
I’ve never really sat down to try to write bluegrass songs. I just write songs. Like you were talking about this interview going under the Good Country category, I’ve always sat somewhere in the mushy in-between of folk, singer-songwriter, bluegrass, and country. I’ve just always existed somewhere in the middle of all that stuff. Some of my favorite artists have done that, as well.
Some of my favorite bluegrass artists were folkier or bluesy-er. Del McCoury or Doc Watson. Tony Rice was such a genre evader. I always appreciated that about certain bluegrass artists. But writing-wise, I just always wrote songs. And because of the nature of what I’ve ingested, they lend themselves fairly well to more traditional bluegrass arrangements. They always play everything a lot faster than I think they’re going to. [Laughs]
Last night at the Bluebird [Cafe] I did my version of “Thunder and Lightning,” which is a moonshining song of mine that Lonesome River Band cut. I think I’m playing my version fast, like it feels fast to me. And then I hear them do it and it’s about twice as fast as I play mine. It sounds great when they do it, but if I try to play it that fast it sounds ridiculous.
I write some with Sierra Hull, she’s so much fun to write with. It’s funny, she hardly plays when we’re writing, which I had to get used to. ‘Cause the first time I wrote with her I was like, “Oh I can’t wait to just watch her play!” And I don’t even know if she touched the instrument a couple of times, just to check a chord. But I got to like her so much and enjoy writing with her that it didn’t matter. [Laughs] …
My dad was a piano player – and still is. His dad was a piano player, too. So I started on piano when I… I think I was like four. I was kinda tugging on their shirt going, “Hey, I wanna play piano!” And they’re like, “Yeah, okay. Sure.” But they did let me, I started, and I did like classical piano for years. Then I went to saxophone and then I heard a Chuck Berry record and I needed a guitar. Today. Right now. This afternoon.
I was talking to a friend of mine who is a bluegrasser, saying, “I just don’t know how you guys do it, the flatpicking. How are you doing this?” And he goes, “You remember when you were learning Rolling Stones songs on a Stratocaster when you were a teenager? Most of these guys were playing D28s with grown men at festivals then.” When they were that age, that’s what they were doing. Picking with grown men.
Who were having pissing contests with those children. [Laughs]
Yeah! Sorry kid, not today. [Laughs]
Photo Credit: Emily McMannis
This website uses cookies to improve your experience. We'll assume you're ok with this, but you can opt-out if you wish.AcceptRejectRead More
Privacy & Cookies Policy
Privacy Overview
This website uses cookies to improve your experience while you navigate through the website. Out of these, the cookies that are categorized as necessary are stored on your browser as they are essential for the working of basic functionalities of the website. We also use third-party cookies that help us analyze and understand how you use this website. These cookies will be stored in your browser only with your consent. You also have the option to opt-out of these cookies. But opting out of some of these cookies may affect your browsing experience.
Necessary cookies are absolutely essential for the website to function properly. This category only includes cookies that ensures basic functionalities and security features of the website. These cookies do not store any personal information.
Any cookies that may not be particularly necessary for the website to function and is used specifically to collect user personal data via analytics, ads, other embedded contents are termed as non-necessary cookies. It is mandatory to procure user consent prior to running these cookies on your website.
