Accidental bandleader and beloved Canadian Tony Dekker joins us to talk about Great Lake Swimmers‘ new album, Caught Light. Tony is up to old tricks again, like recording in a remote and weird place (in a century-old farmhouse in the middle of the woods) and working with his merry band of rotating musician friends, including producer Darcy Yates (Bahamas). The album was recorded in three days, the shortest amount of time he’s ever spent on a record. In that very fast process, he had to learn to let go of control. In our Basic Folk conversation, he shares what he’s learned about the beauty of letting go. We also get into how Tony feels most capable of confronting environmental and political themes in his songwriting and daily practice.
In recent years, Dekker has moved his family from Toronto, the big city, back to the Niagara area in Ontario where he grew up, to establish a small town community and life. We revisit his early years in Wainfleet, Ontario, discussing the ins and outs of his family’s farm, his love of country radio, and talent for picking any instrument. He learned the joy of playing music at a young age. The reward of music was enough, and that notion has translated into how Great Lake Swimmers operates and what kind of bandleader he is. As stated before, the fact that he is the group’s bandleader is an accident, since he only wanted to organize the band and act as a background member. Finding himself more and more on the frontline, he did some serious work learning how to be a good leader and how to operate a band that’s made up of good friends. It’s clear that Tony’s figured out how to be a humble leader and friend as his collaborators return to his orbit time and time again.
By the time Sammy Brue finished recording The Journals, he already knew something unsettling: this might be the most meaningful work he ever makes. Not because it would be his last, but because it arrived fully formed, heavy with inheritance, responsibility, and grief.
“If I never made another album again,” Brue said, almost laughing at the impossibility of topping it, “this was it.”
The Journals (out January 23 on Bloodshot Records) is a spare, intimate record built from the handwritten notebooks of Justin Townes Earle – Brue’s mentor, hero, and one of the most restless, brilliant American songwriters of his generation. Earle died of an accidental drug overdose in 2020 at age 38. What he left behind, scattered across hotel rooms, trains, taxis, storage units, and decades of living, was a vast, unfinished body of work. Hundreds of pages of lyrics, fragments, revisions, false starts, and songs carved and recarved like stone.
Entrusted with those journals by Earle’s widow, Jenn Marie Earle, Brue didn’t approach them as artifacts. He approached them as living documents. “I never got to write a song with Justin,” he said. “And then I thought – maybe I could.”
The result is neither a covers album nor an act of ventriloquism. Some songs on The Journals emerge directly from lyric sheets Earle left behind. Others are co-writes in spirit, with Brue completing ideas Earle had shaped over years. A few are Brue’s own songs, written from compilations of Earle’s images and themes. One track, “For Justin,” is entirely Brue’s – a quiet, aching letter written two years after Earle’s death, “by a Justin fan for Justin’s fans.”
The record was made quickly, almost violently so. With GoFundMe money raised to finish the project, Brue booked two days in Muscle Shoals, Alabama, a nod to the sparse manner that Earle once cut Yuma, his breakthrough 2007 debut. Brue wanted to honor that lineage directly: no band, no overdubs, no safety net. Just voice, guitar, microphones.
“I wanted it all live,” he said. “No tracking. No instrumentals. Just me.”
Brue practiced obsessively for months, then walked into the studio and recorded ten songs in a single day. When nerves crept in, he leaned on a conversation with Joshua Black Wilkins, Earle’s longtime collaborator, asking how Yuma had been made so quickly, so ferociously. “He said Justin was desperate,” Brue said. “He had to make it happen or he was going to sink.” That urgency – career, life, survival – became Brue’s template. The next day, they listened back, drank, and let the record sit where it landed.
Brue has been playing these songs live since the moment they were finished. Unlike most of his own catalog, they haven’t worn thin. “I’ll never get sick of playing these,” he said. “I’ll play them until my demise.”
To understand why requires also understanding what Earle represented to Brue long before the journals ever entered the picture. Brue grew up in a household steeped in American roots music – Justin Townes Earle, the Avett Brothers, Old Crow Medicine Show, Dave Rawlings. As a child, he assumed Woody Guthrie and Lead Belly were simply what came on the radio. At 10, he asked his father to take him to see Earle play in Salt Lake City, only to discover the show was 21-and-over. Fate intervened: Earle was outside the venue, smoking, when they pulled over. He signed Brue’s guitar. Years later, Earle invited him to open shows, tour, and appear on the cover of Single Mothers as a kind of “mini-Justin.”
They stayed connected. Brue watched Earle fall in love with Jenn, watched his life oscillate between discipline and chaos, sobriety and relapse. “He always treated me the same,” Brue said. “He put on a strong front for me.”
When Earle died, Brue felt the loss in stages – shock, numbness, then collapse. He later read Earle’s rehab journals but couldn’t bring himself to take them home. The pain on those pages was too raw. “Some of the most heartbreaking stuff I’ve ever read,” he said. “You want it released. You don’t want it released.”
What struck Brue most, beyond the suffering, was the work ethic. Earle wrote obsessively, filling 150-page notebooks song by song, revising endlessly. Saint of Lost Causes alone contains nearly 80 pages of drafts. “He carved songs like marble,” Brue says. “No wonder they’re undeniable.”
That rigor reshaped Brue’s own sense of craft. Archiving Earle’s journals – more than 800 pages total, still only a fraction of what exists – forced him to confront the fragility of legacy. “I’m looking at my own songs now like, why was I writing in the Notes app?” he said. “I need a box.”
The emotional core of The Journals came together when Brue met with Jenn and Etta, Earle’s daughter, flipping through the notebooks together. Etta clung to Brue’s arm as they turned the pages. “It felt like she was closer to her dad,” Brue said. “Jenn, closer to her husband. Me, closer to my idol.” From that moment on, failure wasn’t an option.
The album arrives alongside renewed attention to Earle’s life and work, including Jonathan Bernstein’s authorized biography, What Do You Do When You’re Lonesome. Together, they suggest something rare: a continuation rather than a conclusion.
“I feel like I’m a link in the chain,” Brue said, naming the lineage he feels bound to – Guy Clark, Townes Van Zandt, Steve Earle, Justin Townes Earle. “It’s rough and tumble right now. Which is perfect.”
For all its weight, The Journals isn’t morbid. It’s alive. It moves forward. Brue knows he doesn’t have to top it. He only has to honor it. And for now, that’s enough to keep the fire lit.
Welcome to The Working Songwriter, the show where today’s best songwriters come to talk shop. Each episode we host a distinguished guest and we ask them to go deep on their inspiration, their process, and the general ups and downs of making a life in music. Whether you’re a grizzled veteran picking out custom chrome trim for your tour bus or a scrappy upstart, trying to determine whether your Toyota Tercel can make it through a three thousand mile tour, this is your show. Because, ultimately, it is what every writer seeks most. An ironclad excuse to put off actually writing.
Our guest this week on The Working Songwriter hails from The Woodlands, Texas. Hayes Carll is a singer, songwriter, and storyteller whose sharp wit and plainspoken poetry first broke through with his 2002 debut, Flowers & Liquor. That was followed by 2008’s Trouble in Mind, which delivered the hit “She Left Me for Jesus” and cemented his place among the genre’s most distinctive voices.
Carll has toured with artists like Old Crow Medicine Show, Todd Snider, and Alison Krauss and his songs have been covered by Miranda Lambert, Lee Ann Womack, and Kenny Chesney. He’s recorded for Lost Highway, Dualtone, and Thirty Tigers and he’s performed on stages from Newport Folk Festival to Austin City Limits and the Grand Ole Opry.
Rolling Stone praises his work for its “razor-sharp wit and lived-in warmth,” while NPR notes his “keen eye for the human condition wrapped in disarming charm.” American Songwriter calls him “one of Americana’s most reliable truth-tellers.”
Your weekly dose of new music is here! You Gotta Hear This.
We’ve got a couple of brand new music videos, leading off with Big Richard absolutely smashing a David Olney song, “Millionaire.” To say the track is apropos for this moment in time would be a laughable understatement. The string band/bluegrass supergroup give it their signature impassioned treatment, with energy, conviction, and musicality. Their new music video for the just-released single was shot in and around Salt Lake City. Plus, Boston-based alt-folk duo Sweet Petunia bring us a new music video, as well. Their new, stark indie folk track “Grub” is set to a delightful animated, stop-motion, hand-drawn music video. The song explores identity, embodiment, beauty, and pain, and holds space for solidarity for trans and gender-nonconforming folks.
You’ll also find a music video for Michael Haney’s new cover of a Bruce Springsteen song, “Brilliant Disguise,” rich in Americana rock ‘n’ roll. Haney knew he wanted to record the number because of how it “speaks directly to the heart of the human condition.” Singer-songwriter Kirby Lyle picks up the same mantle on the title track for his brand new EP, Change Is Hard. It’s also a song of solidarity and community, because who is going to save us if we don’t save us? But we are going to save us.
It’s a lovely collection of tracks this week highlighting community, togetherness, and how roots music is built upon both. We hope you enjoy, cause we think You Gotta Hear This!
Big Richard, “Millionaire”
Artist:Big Richard Hometown: Denver, Colorado Song: “Millionaire” Album:Pet Release Date: January 13, 2026 (single); February 6, 2026 (album) Label: Signature Sounds
In Their Words: “‘Millionaire’ is a song about the greed and corruption of the rich written by David Olney, originally released in 1991. It is still wildly topical nearly 35 years later, although it might be time to change ‘millionaire’ to ‘billionaire’ at this point.
“We added this song to our setlist just after the inauguration last year and it has become one of the most emotionally charged moments in our sets. For us, this song is a unifying message, because regardless of which side of the line you voted on, we are all on the same side in the great class war. All of us are at the mercy of a very few, who only have their own best interests in mind, and who would never dismantle the systems that hold them in their places of power. It’s up to us to join with our neighbors and tear it down, from the joke that is the insurance industry to the politicians that are openly bought and controlled by corporations.
“We filmed the music video in Salt Lake City, where local fans will recognize many of the landmarks, which include the state capitol building, the offices of the LDS (who currently own more real estate than any other entity in the world), and the fuel refineries that choke the air of that beautiful city.
“We sing this old song with a lot of hope in dark days like these. Our species is brilliant, and more than capable of solving the problems that we have, if we would put the money in the right pockets and put limits on the folks that choose to hoard it.” – Dr. Joy Adams
Video Credit: Wonderstone Films
Michael Haney, “Brilliant Disguise”
Artist:Michael Haney Hometown: Originally from Columbia, South Carolina; now living in Nashville, Tennessee Song: “Brilliant Disguise” Release Date: January 23, 2026 Label: Rock Ridge Music
In Their Words: “I chose to record ‘Brilliant Disguise’ by Bruce Springsteen as an up-tempo rock version, because I’ve always been drawn to the tension and truth in that song. It’s one of his most well-known pieces from a transitional period in his life, and I think it speaks directly to the heart of the human condition — that universal experience of hiding parts of ourselves, even from those we love most. The more you sit with it, the more you realize the song captures something even deeper: how often we don’t truly know who we are in the first place. We walk through life trying to piece together our identities, yet we still build masks on top of that uncertainty — sometimes to protect ourselves, sometimes because we’re afraid of being seen, and sometimes for reasons we don’t fully understand.
“I liked the idea of doing late-’80s Springsteen as if mid-to-late-’70s Springsteen had taken it on, with that raw, energetic edge that defined his early sound. Reimagining it that way let me lean into the emotional conflict at the center of the song — the push and pull between authenticity and self-deception — while giving it the kind of drive that felt truer to my own voice. It’s not a song that’s been covered often, which made it feel like the perfect addition to my catalog: both as a tribute to his songwriting and as a reflection of where I am personally right now, navigating my own questions about identity, honesty, and the parts of ourselves we choose — or struggle — to reveal.” – Michael Haney
Track Credits: Michael Haney – Vocals Ben Jackson – Drums, percussion, keys, Hammond B3 organ Luis Espaillat – Bass Brian Fechino – Acoustic guitar, electric guitar Brad Sample – Electric guitar Kaleb Thomas Jones – BGVs
Kirby Lyle, “Change Is Hard”
Artist:Kirby Lyle Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee Song: “Change Is Hard” Album:Change Is Hard (EP) Release Date: January 16, 2026
In Their Words: “‘Who’s gonna save us if we don’t save us?’ That’s the line. We are. Us. You and me. Right here in the moment. Every time I play ‘Change Is Hard,’ my soul activates! I’m so full of gratitude that the heart has an infinite capacity when it’s shared, because I can’t express this feeling alone. The music commands a full choir and joyful ruckus of players to lift it up to megaphone level. When the audience engages, our positive energy is ubiquitous! The hope is simple: inspiration toward progress – personal and societal. It’s on us. Be moved. Get better. Make each other better. Together.” – Kirby Lyle
Track Credits: Kirby Lyle – Lead vocals, guitar, auxiliary percussion, songwriter, background vocals Kyle Tuttle – Banjo Keyboard – Jacob Merlin Erika Nalow – Saxophones Jordan Perlson – Drums Background Vocalists: Maya de Vitry, Kyle Tuttle, Ethan Jodziewicz, Anthony Saddic, Brenna, Dana Baker, Emory Major, Noelle McFarland, Rachel Isabella, Sean Donovan, Kimberly Albertson, Laura Stack
In Their Words: “‘Grub’ is a song about my experience of being trans and the beauty and the pain that come with it. The song came to me almost completely at once. Most of the first verse came out in one fell swoop as you hear it today, but the second verse was inspired by a video of beautiful baby birds crowded into a small nest. I was so jealous of how close and happy they looked — a perfect opposite to reflect the isolation and sense of otherness that I explore in the first half of the song. Maddy and I then spent two hours just playing it over and over and over again until we finally found the perfect duet of banjo and vocals to support the song.
“I feel so lucky to have been able to share this song with so many other trans people through years of performing it live and hear how they connect to it within the context of their own experiences. It feels particularly special to be putting ‘Grub’ out in a time where our rights and lives as trans people are being put in harm’s way in a much more visible way than in the past few years.” – Mairead Guy
Video Credit: Riley Halliday
Photo Credit: Sweet Petunia by JJ Gonson; Big Richard by Rett Rogers.
The duo of Dan Penn and Spooner Oldham have amassed an astonishing set of credentials, not only as exceptional soul, pop, rock, and country songwriters, but also as vocalists, producer (Penn), and session musician/sideman (Oldham). Both Alabama natives, they’ve maintained a successful professional relationship and close personal friendship since meeting in the late ’50s as teens. They’ve always characterized themselves as “country boys who love Black music.”
Penn initially viewed himself primarily as a singer. He was the lead vocalist for two local Alabama bands, the R&B group the Mark V Combo and a later one, Dan Penn and the Pallbearers. But he began to shift his focus in 1960, after his tune “Is A Bluebird Blue?” became an early hit for Conway Twitty. That song also reflected the joint musical influences that have always permeated the tunes co-written by Penn and Oldham. It’s country’s powerful storytelling edge combined with soul’s passionate energy and quest for personal salvation. Once the Twitty tune made it big, things changed in Penn’s mind. “That’s when I first decided that maybe this songwriting thing might work out,” he added. “After I saw some of the checks that were coming in, I decided to just keep going with it.”
Penn had already been working at SPAR Music studio, a place co-founded by Rick Hall and Billy Sherrill above a drugstore in Florence, Alabama. When Hall decided to open his own studio titled FAME (Florence Alabama Music Enterprises), Penn became their first resident songwriter. He and Oldham began writing together at FAME, and both say they had a chemistry from the very beginning.
“Back in those days, co-writing wasn’t quite what it is today,” Penn continued. “But just from hanging out with Spooner and getting to know him, we had real good rapport from the beginning. I got to know and like him, and then things just kind of took off from there.”
“What Dan says is pretty much how it happened,” Oldham added. “We got a rhythm going and it’s never been one of those things where we’ve had any problems or issues.”
Interestingly, Oldham views himself as a musician first, then a songwriter. A prolific organist and keyboardist, he got his start playing in a traditional jazz band while in high school. The extensive list of top musicians he’s played with over the years includes Arlo Guthrie, Jim Croce, Gram Parsons, The Everly Brothers, Jackson Browne, Linda Ronstadt, Gene Clark, Ry Cooder, The Flying Burrito Brothers, Delaney and Bonnie Bramlett, Bob Seger, Maria Muldaur, Rita Coolidge, Bobby Womack, Albert King, Helen Reddy, Harry Nilsson, Stephen Stills, J.J. Cale, and Neil Young. But in his earlier days, he also made his way to the FAME studios and had the first of many collaborations with Penn. Among their notable FAME triumphs were Percy Sledge’s “It Tears Me Up,” James and Bobby Purify’s “I’m Your Puppet,” and Joe Simon’s “Let’s Do It Over.”
But Penn wanted to produce as well as write and he left FAME for Memphis in the late ’60s, moving to Chips Moman’s American Studios. Oldham would later follow him there. Penn and Moman would craft their own set of soul classics, notably “Dark End of the Street” for James Carr, and “Do Right Woman, Do Right Man” for Aretha Franklin. Penn got his first major production opportunity in 1967, with the Box Tops and then 16-year-old lead vocalist Alex Chilton. Penn produced their number one hit “The Letter,” then joined forces with Oldham to co-write the group’s second smash “Cry Like A Baby,” and the Sweet Inspirations’ “Sweet Inspiration.”
Oldham would eventually depart for Los Angeles and a prolific career as a session musician and sideman. He played keyboards on Young’s 1978 album Comes a Time, and continued to work with him on such other albums as Old Ways, Harvest Moon, Silver & Gold, and Prairie Wind. Oldham joined Bob Dylan during his Christian era, contributing to Dylan’s Saved album, the Saved Tour and the Shot of Love Tour. With Dylan, he played 79 shows, appeared on Saturday Night Live, and on the GRAMMY Awards telecast. Oldham also partnered with John Prine for the 1984 album Aimless Love and appeared on the 1994 release, A John Prine Christmas.
When Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young reunited for their Freedom of Speech Tour, Oldham played keyboards. He also worked as a sideman and collaborated with Steve Wariner through the ’80s. They teamed on the song “Lonely Women Make Good Lovers.” During the ’90s, Oldham was featured on Jewel’s album Pieces of You, which produced the hit “Who Will Save Your Soul.” In the 2000s, he appeared on a pair of Frank Black albums, joined the Drive-By Truckers for their 2007 The Dirt Underneath tour, and played with Amos Lee, Aaron Neville, Bettye LaVette and Cat Power in 2008. He contributed to Keith Richards’ 2015 album Crosseyed Heart and Sheryl Crow’s Threads in 2019, as well as the Mountain Goats Dark In Here in 2021.
Penn established his own Memphis studio, then subsequently relocated to Nashville in the ’70s. He would have some country success with songs written for Ronnie Milsap and Johnny Rodriguez, and he’d also produce a pair of Milsap LPs – his debut album Ronnie Milsap, and co-producing A Rose By Any Other Name with Moman. He contributed the song “A Woman Left Lonely” to Janis Joplin’s album Pearl (later covered by Charlie Rich) and he’d cut an acclaimed solo album, Nobody’s Fool.
Penn and Oldham had another reunion in 1991 at New York’s Bottom Line, appearing in the songwriter series “In Their Own Words.” They also contributed to Arthur Alexander’s 1993 album Lonely Just Like Me. Later the duo made an acoustic tour throughout parts of the U.S., Europe, Australia, and Japan. It yielded the live album, Moments From This Theater, that was released in 1999. Penn also made another critically praised solo LP, Do Right Man, in 1994. Both Penn and Oldham are members of the Alabama Music Hall of Fame. Oldham is also in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame as a sideman, as well as the Musicians Hall of Fame in Nashville and the Birmingham Record Collectors Hall of Fame.
Both men currently remain busy. Penn’s Christmas tune “One Blue Light” was released last November and it was a message of “remembrance and hope” to highlight the holiday season. It’s the first single from Penn’s upcoming album, Smoke Filled Room, which is scheduled for release later this year. “There’s a song on there that I worked on for 20 years and I finally got it right this time,” he said in discussing the upcoming album. “Billy Lawson mixed it and we finally got it sounding the way that we wanted.”
Smoke Filled Room was recorded at Penn’s home studio and will be available on various streaming sites. “When I started out as a singer in the studios I’d always pay attention to what they were doing on the boards, the engineering, mixing, all of it,” Penn added. “So it wasn’t that much of a shift for me to go to production.”
Besides playing dates last year with Neil Young, Oldham also played with the Scottish band Texas on the 2024 release The Muscle Shoals Sessions, a collection of soul covers that the group recorded at FAME studios. He will be playing on an upcoming Robert Cray LP, with the sessions set to begin the week after our interview. Together, Penn and Oldham are doing some select dates this year in both the United States and United Kingdom.
Unfortunately, Oldham suffered an injury early in his recent appearances with Young. “The first week out I fell playing basketball and just tore myself up,” Oldham said. “But I’ve moved from a wheelchair to a walker to a cane, so I’m doing alright.”
Neither man will commit to claiming any one of their classics as their favorite, nor will they cite any one artist as the greatest that has covered their songs. But Penn mentions some names he was particularly happy he worked with as either a producer or songwriter. “Alex Chilton, Aretha Franklin, Joe Simon – so many I can’t really name them all.”
“I’ll just say I’m grateful to all the wonderful singers that did our songs,” Oldham added. “I really saw myself starting out – and still do – as a musician first, and I approached songwriting from that perspective. Dan would work on getting the words right, if there was a problem, and I’d work on fixing the music if anything went wrong on that end.”
Penn added the name of one singer who’s not recorded one of his songs that he’d enjoy having cut one: “Tom Jones,” Penn said. “I doubt if that’s ever going to happen, but I’d love for him to do one of them. He’s got a hell of a voice.”
Their opinions on the phenomenon of streaming aren’t as tinged with anger as some of their contemporaries, though they acknowledge that the compensation end has its problems. “Well, this generation has really gotten accustomed to getting its music that way, and you’ve got to be willing to adjust to that reality,” Penn said. “I don’t really have anything against it, but really, as a songwriter, [you] aren’t going to make a lot of money off it.”
“They definitely need to address the payment side of it,” Oldham said. “It’s definitely a way to get the music out to the public, but the musicians themselves aren’t really getting the benefits from it. That’s the area that they need to address.”
The exploits of Dan Penn and Spooner Oldham are chronicled as part of the “Muscle Shoals: Low Rhythm Rising” exhibit at the Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum in Nashville. They will be appearing in concert at City Winery Nashville on January 18, 2026.
For more than 20 years, Langhorne Slim’s folk-leaning songs and rebellious nature have captivated crowds across the world. That trend continues on his ninth studio album, The Dreamin’ Kind, which takes a page out of Dolly Parton’s book and pivots toward rock ‘n’ roll in what’s arguably his most eye-opening collection of songs to date.
Out January 16 on Dualtone, the album is something Slim had long desired to make, finally coming to fruition after he had the opportunity to open for Greta Van Fleet at a show in Connecticut in 2021. The moment came mere months after having dropped what would be his debut on the Billboard Hot 200, Strawberry Mansion. But according to Greta’s bassist Sam F. Kiszka – who produced The Dreamin’ Kind – that wasn’t the band’s introduction to Slim. They’d been fans of his long before.
“I remember hearing Lost at Last, Volume 1 for the first time and it absolutely resonated with me,” Kiszka said in a press release. “[Slim] has the conviction of a hundred singers. He puts his entire body and soul into it. I listen to ‘The Way We Move’ and I think, ‘That’s a rock ‘n’ roll song, right there.’ Rock ‘n’ roll isn’t a sound, necessarily. It’s an energy, and he’s got it.”
Although the production takes on a strong Greta Van Fleet flavor on songs like “Haunted Man” and “Loyalty,” The Dreamin’ Kind also mixes in Slim’s folk-fueled identity as well, painting a sonic canvas that shows both where he’s come from and where he’s headed. Others, like “Strange Companion” and “Rickety Ol’ Bridge,” bring stylings together, with fuzzed out guitar licks and backbeats that portray a more folk-oriented stomp and clap mentality.
Ahead of the holiday season and a weekend run of shows opening for comedian Jordan Klepper (more on that below), Slim spoke with BGS about what inspired his foray into rock ‘n’ roll, how a letter inspired one of its songs, and how working with Greta Van Fleet’s Sam Kiszka and Daniel Wagner pushed him creatively.
What was your motivation for making the pivot to rock ‘n’ roll this deep into your career?
Langhorne Slim: It’s been a dream of mine for a long time. Some of the songs are definitely more of a departure from what I’ve previously done than others, but I don’t think that’ll come as a surprise to people who’ve been following me for a while now. Our live performances have always taken a page out of punk rock and rock ‘n’ roll, in addition to soul and folk music – genres be damned. Regardless of what it sounds like, most people just want to be moved by music.
When I first got started, I was playing a certain way, then a record deal followed and before you know it you’re forming an identity. But I eventually reached a point where I still loved my folky songs, but if I met new people or a fresh opportunity came about that would push me creatively, then let’s go for it! As I’ve grown older and built a family I think more and more about the identity I’ve built and what else is there when I start peeling back those layers – what else do I want to express? How might I want to use my voice or the instrument I play differently?
Rock ‘n’ roll was the natural progression of that, so when I became friends with Sam and Daniel from Greta Van Fleet, I think they saw that in me. From then on there was no pressure, we were just in it to have fun.
So this is something you’ve been wanting for a while, you just needed to find the right people to work with for everything to fall into place?
I’d been talking to a couple friends and people I admire about how when I made [2005’s When The Sun’s Gone Down] I wanted something at the crossroads of bluegrass and punk rock, like the Violent Femmes. I didn’t necessarily want to copy their sound, I just felt a kindred thing with their influences. So with [The Dreamin’ Kind], in my mind I was going for a garage rock meets gospel thing. I wouldn’t say that’s what the record actually became, but how I collaborated with Sam and everyone else for this record was so different from how I’ve worked in the past.
I liken it to a pitcher in baseball. As artists we sometimes focus too much on our strengths or “strong arm,” but I’ve only got so much time to live and I’m hungry to create. Before music my first thought ever about creating something had to do with building robots. With that in mind, the possibilities are endless when you think about all the people you could potentially collaborate with and the different creative bursts that could come from each.
That reminds me of something Ketch Secor told me in an interview a few months ago – “I am a container of multitudes.” It sounds like you’re the same way?
Ketch has been doing Old Crow for even longer than I’ve done my thing. I’m not somebody that says I don’t care if it lands, because I do, but most importantly I want my longtime supporters who’ve been so good to me to connect with this record. I’m not the first songwriter or creative person to say you can’t do the same stuff over and over, and I won’t be the last. At the end of the day, the power of music comes from the wonder and awe it provides us, so if what I’m doing doesn’t give me that same feeling then I’m not doing my job for the people, the energy and whatever else provides groove, melody and beauty in the form of music.
Another way you’ve pushed yourself outside your comfort zone lately has been on your gigs opening up shows for comedian Jordan Klepper. How did that connection come about and what have you learned from playing to a comedy show crowd?
I first met Jordan because my best friend Joel is a cameraman for The Daily Show. Jordan went on to officiate his wedding and through that Joel turned him onto my music. From there, we hit it off at the wedding and about a year later I got an email from Jordan about coming out and opening a few shows for him, which I was thrilled to do because, like you said, it’s out of my comfort zone. I knew there’d be a lot of people in the crowd not familiar with who I was.
That mix of excitement and fear reminds me of early in my career living in New York City, when I became friends with Eugene Mirman, a well-known comedian best known right now for his work as Gene Belcher on Bob’s Burgers. He had a comedy show on the Lower East Side that he’d invite me to be a regular musical guest on, so I did have experience playing comedy shows where nobody knew me. [Laughs] At one point Eugene invited me to play on a comedy tour that included him and a few other comedians who went on to make it big, like David Cross. They’d do their sets then I’d come out with my little hat and funny outfit and the entire crowd would start laughing thinking they were in for some musical comedy, but I was just playing my regular songs.
It was a tough place to break through at, but it taught me a lot. Jordan’s crowd is a little different though, because there’s people in the audience who actually know who I am, which is nice. I also try to cater the songs I play to his show to make them more topically relevant. It seems to be resonating so far – the reception I’ve received at the shows has been wonderful and beyond expectation.
It’s such a treat being on tour with a comedian, because when I’m on the road with another band I’ve found that I can’t watch them without analyzing and thinking how I could pull off what they’re doing. It’s hard to not put oneself in it, whereas watching a comedian it’s a lot easier to sit back, because it’s the same monologue and jokes. It’s how they’ve mastered the art of timing to add emphasis and help the joke land. It’s really fun to observe because I’ll just be sitting there laughing rather than wondering how I’d tell that same joke since it’s not the art form I do.
Sounds like a dream come true, which is also the name of one of the album’s songs. Is that a tune about manifesting the vision you have for your future, or are you unpacking something entirely different there?
You’re spot on. I wrote a letter to somebody, because my partner and I were thinking of moving out of the city and getting this country property, but it was way more than we could afford – I didn’t even know if they were gonna let our raggedy butts in there to take a look at it! So I wrote a letter to this woman and at the end I wrote, “It might be a long shot, but without a dream you can’t have a dream come true,” which also pulls a bit from Hammerstein’s “Happy Talk” (“If you don’t have a dream/ How you gonna have a dream come true?”).
On more general terms, it’s a song about casting aside your doubters and anything else in life that tells us to conform or dims the fire burning within us.
Like you said, you might not have gotten the house, but at least you got the song!
I look back now and there’s songs where I may not have gotten the girl (or in this case, house), but I did get the song, and that’s lasted longer than any relationship probably would. [Laughs]
Songs are like little miracles in that way.
While “Dream Come True” is all about looking ahead, you seem to be looking back on “Stealing Time” – which I’ve interpreted as a song about cherishing your moments with others and not taking them for granted. Is that the case?
There’s some reminiscing I’m doing on that one, too. Being a fairly new dad and sober man, I’ve noticed that being present and giving myself to and receiving somebody else’s time or energy is so rewarding. It’s so easy nowadays to run from our emotions and thoughts, which I used to do a lot with alcohol and drugs and all of us do now with our phones. There’s so many different ways that manifests and plays in my mind.
That song is also a phenomenon of love and infatuation and how one’s heart can be so on fire for somebody that closes theirs off to you. It’s like [Gotye’s] song “Somebody That I Used To Know” in that way.
Another song I wanted to ask about is “Haunted Man,” which to me comes off as the most Greta Van Fleet-sounding track on the album. What was the process for bringing it to life?
That song is the most collaborative that I did with those boys. It was also the tune that I fought Sam on the most, as far as not thinking it’d be a good fit [for the album]. Even after recording it, I didn’t think we’d include it as one of the dozen tracks, but Sam insisted I sit on it. Once all the songs were done I remember walking around my neighborhood pushing my son Silver in his stroller, listening to the songs, and making a mixtape of what stuff went well together. It was then when my perspective on the song changed and we decided to include it. Since then, the song has grown to become one of the most-liked tracks among our friends, which made me both happy and sad at first due to my ego. It’s easily the most different song on the record from what anybody’s heard me do before.
You just mentioned not thinking “Haunted Man” would make the cut onto the album. Does that mean you have extra material recorded we might hear more of sometime down the road?
For the basic tracks we spent nearly three weeks in the studio, with the first half with the Greta boys – me, Sam, Daniel, my dear friend Casey McAllister [who plays keys in my band], and multi-instrumentalist Cameron Neal [who mainly played electric guitar]. That portion was supposed to be the “rock” record, then for the second half I brought in my longtime band, The Law, to record a bunch of different stuff.
The plan was for them to be two separate records, but we wound up mix-matching a bit. Because of that, we have a bunch of leftover stuff we captured that I hope will be on my next record.
What has the experience of bringing this rock ‘n’ roll record to life taught you about yourself?
Do what scares you. See what else is there and burning inside you, don’t be afraid to take chances and rock out. I just want to keep making music that moves me and inspires other people. I never want to feel like I’m stagnant or compromising parts of myself.
I want to kiss the spirits in the way I feel they’ve kissed me so that I can give my all to the music.
Courtney Marie Andrews’ story begins in Phoenix, Arizona. An only child raised by her mother, she found solace and an outlet for her creativity and imagination in music. She planted her music roots in a self-described “feminist punk band” and began touring while in her teens. Along the way, she recorded a number of albums – best known are Honest Life (2016), GRAMMY-nominated Old Flowers (2020), and Loose Future (2022) – lived in a number of cities, and worked and toured with a number of musicians, including rock band Jimmy Eat World.
Andrews eventually made her way to Nashville, where she now resides. There, she creates music and other art, fueling her soul and inspiration with long walks and her love of animals, bonding with friends’ dogs, and feeding an assortment of “porch animals,” mostly cats, who take up residence outside her door.
In addition to music, Andrews expresses herself through painting and poetry. She has published two collections: 2021’s Old Monarch (2021) and the recent Love Is a Dog That Bites When It’s Scared. Her music, writings, and artwork explore a broad scope of emotions and experiences: loss, grief, fearless love, deep darkness, pure joy, and acceptance of the entire spectrum.
These outpourings are at the essence of her new release, Valentine (out January 16 via Thirty Tigers). Written in the throes of anticipatory grief, the album plummets into the vortex of her trajectory. While the message is raw, the recording is anything but. Valentine is an unfiltered look into Andrews’ heart, filled with waves of sounds and layers of instrumentation.
Among the numerous instruments she plays on Valentine, Andrews is featured on an assortment of guitars and basses, including a 1973 Martin D-28, 1968 Gibson B-45 12-string, 1970s high-strung Japanese Epiphone, Gibson J-45, Epiphone Casino, 1972 Fender P-Bass, 1960s Kay K5915 bass, and 1960s Teisco six-string bass. Longtime friend and colleague Jerry Bernhardt joins her on various instruments, with drummer Chris Bear rounding out the trio. The album was recorded by Michael Harris at Valentine Recording Studios in Los Angeles and produced by Bernhardt and Andrews.
BGS reached Andrews via Zoom for an Artist of the Month conversation.
Has Nashville changed you as a songwriter?
Courtney Marie Andrews: I thought it would deeply shift everything for me, but if anything, it made me want to do other things as well, maybe subconsciously. I started painting and focusing on poetry. But that core sense of self, that songwriter self, will always be with me wherever I go. It’s hard to say how it has shaped me until I’m looking back on my life 20, 30, 40 years from now.
But I will say the community I’ve found here is profound. I’m a Western girl. I’ve lived in Arizona and Seattle up until pretty much my 30s, and I didn’t realize how lonely the West can be. I think that’s apparent in my early work as a songwriter. That subject is throughout the work. When I moved here, I was almost overwhelmed by how much people wanted to hang out. It took a while to adjust and now I can’t imagine it any other way, not having that community to feel into and understand this work, because it is a strange career. So I think more [that] it has affected me personally, but I’ve always continued to write and been on this journey on my own and in my own time.
This is a stripped-down album – only three musicians, including you, and one of them is also your co-producer. Did you know, when the songs were written, that this is how it needed to be done?
I completely funded this album on my own, so if I’m being frank, it was an economical choice. Originally, we would have loved to have a band, but in hindsight, ultimately it created the record it created and I wouldn’t have had it any other way. There’s some power to it being a very condensed group of people, because the focus is a little bit more zoned in, and it becomes a vibe if it’s coming from a few core people, rather than everybody adding their stroke to what you’re doing – which I think is also valid. But looking back, it was probably the best thing we could have done, having Jerry and I playing all the instruments and Chris Bear, of course, on drums.
You played a number of guitars on Valentine. Do the songs determine the guitar, or does the guitar sometimes direct the song?
The songs ultimately lead the way on feeling and vibe. Jerry and I wanted to layer the record. There are a lot of different layers of guitars. We would varispeed one guitar up, so it’s super-high, and then we’d varispeed one guitar lower, so it’s super-low, to create the rounder sound, especially if you’re listening in headphones or on a high-definition speaker system.
But it’s definitely song-driven, whatever the feeling. “Best Friend” is just my guitar and Jerry’s twelve-string. We didn’t go much further than that, because the song was meant to be a bit sparser as far as the depth goes.
“Everyone Wants To Feel Like You Do” is about a certain type of misogyny where it’s, “I do whatever I want and I don’t care about the consequences, nor am I held accountable for the consequences.” The song was written with that feeling, and I thought it would be funny if I played guitar like that, where I didn’t care, so I over-distorted my guitar and played as crazy as I could to assert my power.
How do songwriting, poetry, and painting each fulfill a different side of your artistry and emotions? Is there ever some cross-pollinating?
I wanted to tell the same story with a different perspective, so there is cross-pollinating in terms of the source of the material, where it’s coming from, where I’m at in my life, whatever darkness or lightness I feel. It all sources from the same well of emotion and experience. But there are different ways of telling the same story. I found that when I was songwriting exclusively, I would write the same song over and over again. Whereas if I take a step back, do a different medium, and come back to songwriting, I feel fresher.
Ultimately and forever, I’ll always identify and feel the deepest connection with songwriting. That’s the first thing I fell in love with. It’s the thing I understand the most. But the mystery of these other mediums has really flourished.
There’s a natural through-line between poetry and lyrics. What about painting? Do lyrics sometimes inspire a painting? Does something you create on canvas ever become words in one of the other mediums?
There’s not a lot of crossover. I don’t look at painting like I would look at a page or a song. Painting is, for me, a place to describe emotions that are unexplainable. That’s why painting is so cool. It’s almost equivalent to jazz; it’s more of a feeling that you can’t describe. That was enticing to me. To express myself as a word person who ultimately values words so much, it was important to think outside of the box a little bit. Painting allows that. To not be confined by words is really interesting.
Tell us about your recent Artist in Residence at the Iowa City Songwriters Festival. You performed and did a reading from your new book, but what does “artist in residence” mean at this particular event?
Because Iowa City is a UNESCO World Heritage City of Literature, there’s a heavy college-funded element. I’m not sure if that was their direct funding, but they definitely have more of a collegiate approach to an artist in residence. I’ve done some residencies where they don’t want anything from you. They just say, “Come up and write whatever you want. We don’t care.” But this one was definitely a bit more mentorship-driven. I led a class, a songwriting workshop. I also had one-on-one mentorships with young songwriters, people who are just getting started. They had a packed schedule for me, but it was so lovely.
I think their ultimate goal is to prop up songwriting among the other literature of the world, having songwriting classes in college, and having it there with poetry, fiction, nonfiction, memoirs, memoir writing, and all that. I think that’s ultimately what they’re trying to attain with the residency program. So it was great.
I’ve found that I really love to talk about songwriting in that way. I think that, in our culture, it’s a dying thing, at least from where I’m sitting, to seek out opportunities to learn from elders, from people who’ve been doing it a long time. The more we can do that in our culture, the better off we’ll be. It’s an incredible festival, and I would highly recommend people going. The people who run it are just wonderful.
When you lead workshops and do one-on-one mentoring, is it as much a learning experience for you as it is a teaching experience?
Absolutely. I think to teach is to be a constant student. The moment you feel like you’ve figured it all out … I don’t know if that’s a good thing. Even as I speak about songwriting, I say things that open doors all the time to myself. It’s good to be endlessly curious.
Do you think being an only child contributes to your storytelling ability through songwriting and poetry? Living inside your head, escaping into your own head, in a way that might have been different if you had been surrounded by siblings?
Oh yeah, absolutely. Because I was a latchkey kid, I spent a lot of time alone. If I didn’t have a friend to play with, I had to go into the inner landscape of my mind. That was my way of communicating in a deeper way that I couldn’t quite get in my home life if my mom wasn’t home. I can attribute a lot of my childhood to that. I was a deeply imaginative kid and would create stories all the time. So I think the loneliness also fueled what I do now.
Do you draw from those past emotions when expressing what you’re currently experiencing?
How it manifests is that it’s like a period of reckoning when I’m writing songs. I’m generally alone. I find it very hard to write if I know somebody is even in the next room. I’ve had weird moments in my life where I wrote at soundcheck and stuff, but when I listen back to those things that I’ve written around people, it’s not as dialed in. So when I’m writing, I’m alone and reckoning with the life that I’m leading, or the life of others. It feels like this very quiet thing that needs to happen.
Are you an old-school pen-and-paper writer or have you gone the way of voice memos?
I do both. I exclusively use a green book to write in. It doesn’t matter what color green. They all are green, though, green-colored notebooks, generally the Moleskine variety or that look. I have plenty of them in a pile. [And] I love Micron, the ballpoint art pens. I really don’t like the standard DMV pen. I’m a little bit bougie when it comes to my pens. I like the flow of a Micron. I write and then voice memo. Generally, once I’m done writing a song, I try and always get it down in its unproduced form. I think it’s important to have that, and the phone happens to be the easiest way.
Is playing guitar, just playing, as much a part of songwriting as writing lyrics?
Oh, yeah. I love the guitar. I love open tunings. I love acoustic guitar music, Hawaiian slack key, and classical Spanish-style guitar on a nylon. I love to play and try and emulate that style. And so in certain works, it’s the first thing that happens. There’s many ways to come to a song, but one of them is [to] play a chord progression I like and sing gibberish, and that sometimes leads to a song. In that case, absolutely I need the guitar. But yeah, the instrument can definitely lead the way. It just depends.
When you spoke earlier about adapting to the Nashville community, it brought up the thought that growing up as “an only” maybe affects our social skills to a degree. It can make community something new, as opposed to something you’re used to having around you.
Yeah. I feel that. I have a hard time with small talk for this reason. I want to go immediately for the jugular, as far as intense conversations. I go from zero to a hundred. It’s really hard for me to be like, “Hey, how are you doing?” I feel like such an actor in those circumstances. Of course I’ve learned to do it by way of being a musician – you have to talk to new people every day. But small talk doesn’t do it for me. I have a hard time going in a simple, surface level.
In the bio accompanying this album, you said, “I was in one of the darkest periods of my life and songs were the only way I could reckon with it. I felt cursed and the only mental cure felt like songwriting and painting.” Have you always felt that darkness?
Obviously, as a teenager, I went through a pretty wild part of my life where I felt dark, but I think I actually denied my darkness for a very long time. I lived in a haze of denial and hope, which is a beautiful thing. It can do wonderful things for your mental health. But you also can’t really grow if you’re living in that state.
When I was younger, especially in my early twenties, I always had this hope – “Oh, one day things are going to change.” That denial, that hope, kept me in this holding place, which for a time was really nice, and as a matter of defense and self-preservation, I stayed there for a long time. It wasn’t until I started therapy that I realized I always had this underlying darkness. When I had that, we worked on that, and real things started to happen. Things in life that are so hard that happen to all of us – it became deeply dark and profound to experience that in a more awake state.
How did that help with writing this album?
During a lot of writing this, I was caretaking for my family member who was terminal. If you’ve ever been in that situation, it is all-consuming. The only way I could turn my brain off from that was to write. It wasn’t “I need to write an album.” It was “I need to get back to myself for a moment.” I wouldn’t say it was a conscious decision. It was just I know how I am, and I know that songs are my only way of regulating in these crazy times.
You once said you felt embarrassed by the vulnerability of your songwriting. Where do you draw the line, or do you draw one, between what needs to be said for yourself and what needs to be said for listeners for whom you are the voice? How do you do this and protect your mental health when performing these songs every night?
I’ve always said that once the song is written, it’s not mine. It also transforms for me as I sing it. There are songs I wrote fifteen years ago that I still perform, that have taken on completely new meaning and feel different to me when I sing them. I honestly can’t remember the headspace I was in when I wrote them, or the origin of them, or who I was thinking about, to a strong degree, but I feel differently about them.
As far as what needs to be said, ultimately I try to relate to people, or first myself, and then you put the song out and it becomes a different thing. I try, in an artistic space, to be as true to myself as possible. I try not to put up any walls in that space. As far as my life where I’m not playing music, that’s a different thing. But music is a safe space to say whatever the hell I want to say. That’s the reason it’s such a powerful thing. It’s a safe place for me to communicate. Whatever walls are up in a song are walls that I have up with myself. That’s always very apparent when you write a song. It’s not quite clicking and you’re like, “I’ve got some walls up to my subconscious, clearly.” So the extent to which the boundaries, the walls, are up is truly only the stage at which my heart is at in that moment.
Did that happen with Valentine – the walls, maybe the fear of the vulnerability? It’s deeply personal and powerful, going deeper and deeper into those emotions as your journey is sequenced.
I hate to say it, because I don’t want to sound trite, but making albums, making bodies of work like this, fear is the last thing on my mind. Obviously, natural fears come up: Is it going to be what I wanted, what I envisioned in my dreams? But as far as songwriting and being vulnerable in a song, that’s not the fear. In fact, if I got very close to the heart in a song, it’s generally the ones that I’m like, “That’s a good one. I got there. I got to the essence of this thing I was feeling.”
Being vulnerable in life can be really hard in my personal life, in some ways, and I think that is more where the fear is. But, for whatever reason, the way I direct it is okay in a song, and I’ve made up my mind for that to be true. I don’t know why; I guess it just makes sense to me. Human emotion makes the most sense to me in the backdrop of music.
As far as sequencing, Jerry and I argued quite deeply about the sequencing, but ultimately it did go to a place where once we got the sequence, it was undeniable. Side A and Side B are completely different frames of minds. Side A, you’re fighting for love and you’re desperate. Side B is a resignation – this is how it is, this is how it’s always been, and this is my childhood. By the end, in “Hangman,” you’re just “This is how it is, and you can fight for it or you can walk away.” So the sequencing was purposeful. I wanted it to be a journey. I think records should be like that. They shouldn’t be all one color or palette the whole way through.
Explore more of our Artist of the Month content featuring Courtney Marie Andrews here.
The songs for my album Cry Love came like automatic writing, as if exhaled after too long at a high altitude. And they were recorded as if my band, the WPA Ballclub, had known them for a long time.
A common theme thematically and lyrically is absence. Absence can be volatile. The songs that inspired Cry Love have much in common, particularly a sense of space. Bedrock instruments such as bass or drums are absent or played as loops. Sometimes there’s hardly instruments at all.
Our decade since 2020 has been a slow developing picture of things absent or out of focus. First place. Then time. Then people. Then, this year, the absence for me and my family became the loss of a person. Earth, air, sky, salty sea, and sand were thrown amuck. Cry Love and these songs guard that space – that absence – with music. – Paul Burch
A while back, if I remember right, my life was one long party where all hearts were open wide, where all wines kept flowing.
I ran away. O witches, O misery, O hatred, my treasure’s been turned over to you!
I managed to make every trace of human hope vanish from my mind. I pounced on every joy like a ferocious animal eager to strangle it.
So…it dawned on me to look again for the key to that ancient party where I might find my appetite once more.
– A. Rimbaud, A Season in Hell
“Paris” – Moondog
The Viking of 6th Avenue, who lost his sight as a boy, spent most of his life performing on the corners between 52nd and 55th street. His compositions and collages made him friends like Charlie Parker, Benny Goodman, and Arturo Toscanini, who testified in court on Moondog’s behalf in his suit against DJ Alan Freed for co-opting “Moondog” for his radio show in Cleveland. Freed lost and apologized on air. This is Moondog’s late in life collaboration with the London Saxophonic. Beautiful.
“If I Lived in a Picture” – The Green Pajamas
The Green Pajamas are from Seattle and, like me, have never been on a major label. But that’s never stopped them from making gorgeous tunes like this one that upon first listen instantly vaulted them to one of my favorites ever.
“Telephone Blues” – Snoozer Quinn
My dear friend, supersonic guitarist and producer Richard Bennett, turned me on to Snoozer Quinn, the lost jazz pioneer who in the ’20s and ’30s scared the wits out of contemporaries Lonnie Johnson and Eddie Lang with his out of this world sound. There are stories of musicians filling hotel rooms and hallways to gander at a Snoozer jam session. Louis Armstrong was a great fan, as well.
Snoozer left the cutthroat NYC scene and went home to Louisiana where he died young from tuberculosis – but not before a musician pal captured him literally in his deathbed. The best part of this story is I turned Tim O’Brien onto Snoozer and Tim turned on his ole pal Bill Frisell. My good deed.
“How Much I Owe” – The Radio Four
All of the Nashboro gospel recordings are beautiful, but I’m especially drawn to the urgency of the Radio Four. Thanks to Jonathan Marx of Lambchop for the introduction. Featuring the great country bassist Lightning Chance, whose credits include Hank Williams and the Everly Brothers – and suggesting the Jordanaires’ “number system” for vocal parts be applied to Nashville sessions.
“Poinciana” – Ahmad Jamal Trio
Recorded live at the Pershing Hotel in Chicago. I especially love “Poinciana” for drummer Vernel Fournier, who reminds me of Nashville great and WPA batteur Justin Amaral. Bassist Israel played on Charlie Christian’s “Profoundly Blue.” Recorded by Chess Records engineer Malcolm Chisholm, who probably cut a session for Muddy Waters the next day.
“Sun Rays,” “Last of My Kind” – Pony Hunt
Jessie Antonick, who performs as Pony Hunt, is a musical gem. I love this live performance of “Sun Rays.” The finger snaps just send me.
I also dig their lovely version of my tune, “Last of My Kind,” which sounds like an alternative version of the WPA Ballclub.
“So Sweet You Are” – Dog On Fleas
I’m sure these lyrics got into my head for songs like “I Won’t Miss My Baby Anymore” and “Braggin'” which share the Willie Dixon “left is right, I may I might” school of playful revelation.
“Ready to Leave” – Emahoy Tsege Mariam Gebru
For me, all of Ethiopian composer and pianist Emahoy Tsege Mariam Gebru’s works are enchanting. But I especially love the album Souvenirs, her first vocal collection. Mississippi Records describes it as “songs of wisdom, loss, mourning, and exile sung directly into a boombox,” which aptly describes my feelings writing Cry Love.
“The Whale Has Swallowed Me” – J.B. Lenoir
Both John Lee Hooker and Mr. Lenoir excelled at sparse blues storying around a hypnotic, looping beat. And a whale of a story it is. The great Fred Below, on drums, powered hundreds of classics at Chess.
A hypnotic, menacing tune in which melancholy carries a blade and a broken bottle. Sung from the heart of misery itself by Motown’s first hit artist (“Money”). I love the looping carousel bass line. Los Lobos did a beautiful version, too.
“I Need Somebody to Lean On” – Elvis Presley
Elvis was having a hard time musically and spiritually in the early ’60s but still made some beautiful records. By Doc Pomus and Mort Shuman (“Save the Last Dance for Me”). Elvis sounds inspired and committed with phrasing that evokes a bit of Chet Baker.
”
“Complex” – Tristen
I’ve been crazy for Tristen’s music since I first heard her perform with a trio in front of Whole Foods (of all places) over a dozen years ago. That was the old Nashville. We both play Epiphone Casinos, which makes us siblings of sorts – members of an exclusive club. I’d like to think so, anyway. “You can have your way until you get in my way.”
“Blow Wind Blow” – Muddy Waters
A great era for Muddy on stage with fiercely driving rhythm courtesy three guitarists and Pinetop Perkins.
Photo Credit: Jim Herrington. Pictured: Paul Burch (L) and Fats Kaplin (R).
Happy New Year! We’re so excited to bring you our first collection of new music and videos for 2026. We’ve missed you over the past few weeks and, well, You Gotta Hear This…
Kicking us off, our old friend Joshua Britt returns with a new artist project, The Boy The Earth Sings To, and an official video for an original song, “Eyes Of God.” Falling on the continuum between gospel, sacred, and contemporary Christian roots music, the lush alt-folk track is built around the inspiration of a new mandola, tying the tone wood used to build the instrument to the forested visuals of the video. Meanwhile, Western North Carolina-based singer-songwriter Aaron Burdett unveils a new single, “Arthur’s Last Dance,” which pays tribute to folk dancer Arthur Grimes and his final performances at MerleFest before his retirement. It’s driving modern bluegrass appropriately perfect for flatfooting, clogging, and polishing those floorboards.
Then, from just up the mountains, Lonesome River Band also bring their first new single of 2026, “Bernadette,” written by Bob and Ginger Minner. Below, Bob offers his perspective on writing the tune, which he and his wife immediately imagined LRB recording, as soon as they had finished writing it. If you like crooked contemporary bluegrass that’s steeped in old-time mountain music – with a slightly dark, modal tinge – you’ll love this one.
Let’s continue up the mountains now, across Virginia and West Virginia to southeastern Ohio, where we’ll find the music of singer-songwriter Trey Hedrick and this new track, “Shoestring,” which features Tim O’Brien. It’s a testament to Hedrick’s grandpa, his relocation of the family to Ohio, and the way life, love, work, and place are passed down generation to generation.
Rounding out our collection this week, it’s a premiere we published elsewhere on the site this morning, as well. Celebrating his upcoming collaborative album, guitarist Bryan Sutton launches a hilarious and entertaining animated music video for “The Devil Went Down to Deep Gap” featuring Billy Strings, Del McCoury, and more. It’s a delightful reimagining of Charlie Daniels’ “The Devil Went Down to Georgia” that tells a fantastic version of Doc Watson’s origin story, pitting Doc’s style of picking against shredding metal electric guitars played by Sutton and Strings. You won’t want to miss this masterpiece of country, bluegrass, and flatpicking storytelling.
What a great way to kick off the year, right? There’s plenty to hear, love, and enjoy below. You Gotta Hear This!
The Boy The Earth Sings To, “Eyes of God”
Artist:The Boy The Earth Sings To Hometown: Franklin, Kentucky Song: “Eyes Of God” Album:The Quiet Voice Of God Release Date: November 7, 2025
In Their Words: “Years ago, my band played a show with Sierra Hull in Montana and that’s where she introduced me to mandolin builder Bruce Weber. Visiting his shop was unforgettable – an old schoolhouse where one room was filled with raw, uncarved slabs of wood that he would walk across, knocking on each piece, saying, ‘They all sound different, but some of them sing.’ It felt like he was listening for the mandolin already inside the wood, the way Michelangelo spoke about finding David inside the marble. Bruce built an octave mandolin for me that became the backbone of this album and while I was writing it I came across another Weber mandola. The first night I brought it home, I picked it up and wrote ‘Eyes Of God’ in one pass, as if the words and melody were already waiting inside that piece of wood. My favorite art has always felt more like discovery than invention.
“For the video I was inspired by time I spent in Bolzano, Italy, reading about the singing trees in the high altitude mountain forest – God placing the best wood high in the mountains, starved for air instead of down in the village. A reminder to me that making something great always requires adventure.” – Joshua Britt
Track Credits: Joshua Britt – Vocals, mandola, other instruments, songwriter Matt Menefee – Banjo Neilson Hubbard – Drums Colter Britt – Harmony vocals Sarah Drake – Harmony vocals
Video Credits: Filmed on location in the Colorado Rockies. Directed by Joshua Britt and Quincy Britt.
Aaron Burdett, “Arthur’s Last Dance”
Artist:Aaron Burdett Hometown: Saluda, North Carolina Song: “Arthur’s Last Dance” Release Date: January 9, 2026 Label: Organic Records
In Their Words: “I was first introduced to Arthur Grimes when I lived in Boone, NC, in the ’90s. He’d materialize now and then at many shows I was playing or attending over the years. So when I played a set at MerleFest 2024 with Steep Canyon Rangers and heard that Arthur was going to be there with Old Crow Medicine Show – to do his last dance before largely retiring – my interest was piqued. After our set, I was checking out other performances and, sure enough, got to see Arthur doing his thing on the Watson stage one last time. It was an event that deserved a few songwriting notes. Those notes I took that night are what turned into this song commemorating Arthur’s long career dancing with any and every band or performer who came through the High Country of NC over the past 50 years or so.” – Aaron Burdett
Track Credits: Aaron Burdett – Lead vocal, acoustic guitar Kristin Scott Benson – Banjo Carley Arrowood – Fiddle Tristan Scroggins – Mandolin Jon Weisberger – Upright bass Wendy Hickman – Harmony vocal Travis Book – Harmony vocal
Trey Hedrick, “Shoestring” (featuring Tim O’Brien)
Artist:Trey Hedrick Hometown: Wilkesville, Ohio Song: “Shoestring” featuring Tim O’Brien Album:Sing, Appalachia Release Date: January 7, 2026 (single); February 18, 2026 (album)
In Their Words: “‘Shoestring’ is a song about my Papaw, who was an incredible singer and multi-instrumentalist and the engine to the musical life of my immediate and extended family. Through him I came to the writers and songs that I still call on frequently in my own writings. Pap grew up in Parsons, West Virginia, and when work dried up or, more likely, after a need to move on after his brother Skip died in a mining accident, he moved north to southern Ohio. A move that anchored the geography of our family to southern Ohio after many generations in West Virginia and Kentucky. I didn’t try and likely couldn’t have written ‘Shoestring’ from any perspective other than reverent grandson, intentionally setting aside any precise detail. ‘Shoestring’ is about place, love, work, and life passed down, intentionally or not. I was honored to have Tim O’Brien sing and play fiddle on the track – Tim’s music has been an inspiration and has long meant a great deal to me.” – Trey Hedrick
Track Credits: Trey Hedrick – Lead vocals, acoustic guitar, songwriter Tim O’Brien – Lead and background vocals, fiddle Maya de Vitry – Background vocals John Mailander – Fiddle Ethan Ballinger – Mandolin Frank Evans – Banjo Phillipe Bronchtein – Pedal steel Jamie Dick – Drums Rhees Williams – Bass
Lonesome River Band, “Bernadette”
Artist:Lonesome River Band Hometown: Floyd, Virginia Song: “Bernadette” Release Date: January 9, 2026 Label: Mountain Home Music Company
In Their Words: “My wife Ginger and I write a lot of songs together and sometimes the ideas come from the strangest of places. ‘Bernadette’ came from when one of Ginger’s favorite authors, Shawn Inmon, who asked his fans to offer up unique women’s names to be used in his next novel. We were driving around and joking about names like Ethel, Maude, Calry, etc., and I just blurted out ‘How ’bout Bernadette?’ And out of nowhere I sang that name and first line. We got home and sat down and we wrote it in no time. It just fell out, so to speak. Plus, I always wanted to use the word ‘trifling’ in a song, so it seemed fitting for a woman like Bernadette in the story. We did a guitar and vocal demo of it and I sent it right to my buddy Jesse Smathers, because LRB was who we heard in our heads doing it as we wrote it. Thanks to LRB for cutting this one, we’re honored.” – Bob Minner, songwriter
Track Credits: Sammy Shelor – Banjo Jesse Smathers – Acoustic guitar, lead vocal, harmony vocal Mike Hartgrove – Fiddle Adam Miller – Mandolin Kameron Keller – Upright bass Rod Riley – Electric guitar Bob & Ginger Minner – Songwriters
Bryan Sutton, “Devil Went Down to Deep Gap” with Billy Strings
Artist:Bryan Sutton with Billy Strings Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee Song: “The Devil Went Down to Deep Gap” Album:From Roots to Branches Release Date: January 9, 2026 (single/video) Label: Mountain Home Music Company
In Their Words: “It was listening to Charlie Daniels’ original ‘The Devil Went Down to Georgia’ with my youngest daughter, Lily. She has very eclectic and broad musical tastes. I’ve loved sharing music with her and checking out what she has discovered. We found some other covers of the original and one that stuck with me was Jerry Reed’s interpretation, where he makes Johnny a guitarist instead of a fiddler. I have been working on a duets record for some time, collecting recordings here and there with my pals, and knew I wanted to do something different with Billy, as he and I have a whole record of duet playing.
“Billy and I also share a love for heavy metal. I was trying to think of a way he and I could do something connected to this duets project that would allow us to play acoustic and electric. It all kind of came together when I realized this song would allow for that. The Doc [Watson] origin story came about thinking how to make this not just a cover, but more personal and fun. It’s also another subtle tribute to Doc, who would oftentimes change or add lyrics to a song in order to make it fit for him. I fashioned the story, made a little demo, and sent it to Billy. He was into it and we were off.” – Bryan Sutton
Welcome to The Working Songwriter, the show where today’s best songwriters come to talk shop. Each episode we host a distinguished guest and we ask them to go deep on their inspiration, their process, and the general ups and downs of making a life in music. Whether you’re a grizzled veteran picking out custom chrome trim for your tour bus or a scrappy upstart, trying to determine whether your Toyota Tercel can make it through a three thousand mile tour, this is your show. Because, ultimately, it is what every writer seeks most. An ironclad excuse to put off actually writing.
Our guest this week on The Working Songwriter hails from Tobias, Nebraska, a town of about 100 people. Evan Bartels is a singer-songwriter who with his 2017 debut, The Devil, God & Me, burst onto the national scene. More recently, Bartels has expanded his audience with the release of his EP, To Make You Cry, recorded after relocating to Nashville and reflecting on a period of personal upheaval and renewal.
Bartels has toured with American Aquarium, The White Buffalo, and John Moreland; he records for MCA/Universal; and he’s performed at Mile of Music, Americanafest, and the C2C Festival. No Depression calls him “a haunting new presence in Americana,” while Americana Highways praises his “unvarnished, soul-bearing songwriting.” Glide Magazine notes his “ability to turn bruised experience into stark, resonant beauty.”
I caught up with Evan Bartels a few months ago for The Working Songwriter to hear about his musical journey so far.
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