Tag: Americana

Welcome to Meels’ Critter Country

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

There are plenty of country subgenres out there, but quickly rising up-and-comer Meels has carved out a unique new niche. The California-born singer-songwriter calls her sound “critter country,” a fitting term for her playful but grounded brand of country-leaning roots music, which takes cues from folk of the ‘60s and ‘70s, traditional bluegrass, and classic country a la Loretta Lynn or Willie Nelson.

On her recently released new project, Across the Raccoon Strait, Meels takes listeners on a colorful, far-reaching tour of critter country and in the process announces herself as a fresh, genuinely exciting new voice in the broader roots music ecosystem.

Folks are taking notice – Meels is one of the first handful of artists signed to the newly rebirthed Lost Highway Records, with a legacy of artists like Lucinda Williams, Lyle Lovett, and Johnny Cash, as well as another left-of-center singer-songwriter, Kacey Musgraves, who was announced as the first official signee when the label relaunched last year. Meels has shared stages with artists like Molly Tuttle and Old Crow Medicine Show, and will appear with Margo Price, Carter Faith, and Nitty Gritty Dirt Band this spring.

Below, BGS catches up with Meels about songwriting, “critter country” and signing to Lost Highway.

In the lead-up to releasing Across the Raccoon Strait you shared that this batch of music feels truest, holistically, to who you are as an artist. Can you elaborate on that? What do you think enabled you to express yourself so fully?

Meels: As a writer and a producer and a songwriter and a singer, I really trust my gut and just follow the wave. With these songs, it was just me doing that. A few summers ago, before I made the project, I dove deep into the country classics – like Loretta Lynn and Marty Robbins and Dolly Parton. I got super inspired, the floodgates opened, and I just started writing like crazy. I grew up on a lot of ‘60s and ‘70s folk and my uncle is actually a bluegrass musician. He gigged around town where he lives in upstate New York. So I was already introduced to that world, but I took a deep dive and felt really inspired. The project just kind of poured out of me.

Would it be fair to say you found some unexpected connection points or overlap in those genres – the bluegrass and folk you grew up with, then the classic country you dove into?

Oh, totally. I also was trying out my own take on all of these genres and, again, trusting my gut with production and with the songwriting, to find a space within the genres that felt right for me as an artist.

You describe your music as “critter country,” which I just love. And that seems to encompass more than just your sound, as you’ve developed this really strong visual aesthetic in your videos and artwork, too. How did the concept “critter country” first come to you?

That came naturally, too. I grew up surrounded by a ton of critters in the woods in Northern California and found myself using animals as metaphors for my life. I went to NYU for music, and I took a branding class. I remember all of my peers were coming up with all these cool names for their genre. The teacher was like, “Oh, come up with a name specific to your genre and who you are as an artist.” I was still figuring out who I was as an artist in college and when I was looking through my lyrics and finding all of these “critter” similarities, I was like, “You know what? Critter country, that has such a nice ring to it.”

Take me back to the early days of making Across the Raccoon Strait. Was there a moment or idea that kicked off the creative process for you?

I think it was probably “Out West.” That track, in itself, encompasses the whole idea of the EP. I wrote it in New York when I was still living there and I’d just decided that I was moving back to California, back to my roots. I was just so excited about the idea of moving back out to the West Coast that the song came ripping out of me in my New York apartment. So that was a catalyst for me. I wrote most of these songs – that are about California and about home, actually – in New York when I was in a state of longing for home.

Did having that physical distance from your California home, and maybe the benefit of hindsight, help you write those songs?

I think so. My whole life, I have felt the most creative when I’m in California. New York is very overstimulating and there’s a lot going on all the time. I feel like, when I was living there, I was very much just absorbing everything that I could, but I wasn’t really writing so much until I was like, “Yeah, I’m gonna move back.” Then all of the sudden, I just started writing like crazy.

Something that stands out in your songwriting is how freely you use humor in your lyrics. You tackle some tough subjects, but never shy away from playfulness and to me it makes the stories feel more realistic, because in real life our experiences are often mixed bags. Are you consciously trying to inject some lightheartedness into your writing or does it just happen that way for you?

I don’t know. I do find myself making little jokes in my songs all the time. For example, in “The Wizard” I’m writing about a heavier topic: my struggles with OCD for my whole life. But I’m writing about it in a way that I’m not trying to hide anything. I’m just trying to put it in a way that’s maybe a little more digestible, and a little silly and a little funny, to help myself work through it a little more. And maybe to make it more digestible for my audience, too. Maybe I use humor as a way to cope.

“The Wizard” really does nail that balance of sharing something difficult and vulnerable while giving a little wink and nod to the listener.

I love a wink and a nod.

Speaking of that song, when you do get into vulnerable territory in your writing, do you ever feel fear or hesitation? And if you do, how do you engage with those voices?

To be honest, I feel like when I’m songwriting I’m at my most fearless. Since I was young, it’s been my way to put it all out on the table and not be afraid. I think me writing in these little critter metaphors, or using humor – maybe that’s my fear talking, I don’t know – but when I’m writing I just want to lay it all out on the table. It’s my one true release, so I try to do it without fear.

It sounds like you had a fantastic group of collaborators working with you in the studio. What was your time together like?

It was so wonderful. We recorded at a studio in Oakland called Tiny Telephone [owned by John Vanderslice]. They actually had old telephones that worked all over the studio. And they had everything you could want and more to play with and to get creative with. The space itself was incredible. We had an incredible engineer named Danielle, and she was also so important in the creative process, you know, running the vocal through this weird flanger and making moves that were so creative and so unique and so cool.

I also co-produced it with Peter [Groenwald] and Mark [Campbell], who made my first record with me, so that felt really comfortable and really safe. I knew nothing was off the table. I could bring up any idea, no matter how stupid I thought it was, and we would try it. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t. But we had such a good, natural flow in the studio. I brought a lot of friends, too, to play in the band, which was just really great.

You can hear the looseness and camaraderie in the music, in a way that I’d assume can’t be replicated without having close relationships with the players.

I’d always wanted to track a whole record live to tape. And we did that with Across the Raccoon Strait. We didn’t use any click [tracks]. It was just like, “Let’s get this next one tight, guys, let’s go.” We were all having a lot of fun with it.

When I’m in the studio, making music is such a collaborative thing. Even if it’s my song, every musician that I bring in is going to bring something unique. I really love to let them loose and let them rip. We can pull back where we want, but everybody in there plays an instrumental – no pun intended – role in making the music great.

This is also the first project you’ve done as one of the initial signees to the newly relaunched Lost Highway Records. How did you get hooked up with them and what does it mean to you to work with such an historic and impactful label?

This record has opened a lot of doors for me. I made it a little over a year ago and I was like, “I’m gonna quit my day job.” I was living with my grandma in Pasadena. She’s 86 and she’s so cool. “Marsha June” was actually written about her. So, I was basically like, “I’m just gonna give this thing a go.”

I sent this record around to literally anybody that would listen to it. I would send it to venues, because I’d just moved to LA. I was like, “Hey, I haven’t played a lot of LA gigs. Here’s my new record. You want to book me?” I was just kind of fearless about that, too. Some artists are so precious with the new stuff and don’t want to send it around. But I was sending these songs around before they were even mastered.

Eventually, I started working with a manager, I started working with an agent, and then I got a lawyer and did the whole thing. I talked to a lot of great labels, but when I met with Lost Highway I knew that it was the right direction. I’m so, so happy that I’m working with them. It really does feel like a family. It’s such a close-knit team and everybody really cares. … So many of my favorite artists have put music out through Lost Highway. Its legacy just runs so deep. I’m the hugest Johnny Cash fan in the world – and a Willie Nelson fan, and Lucinda Williams. It’s kind of absurd to me that my name could be looped in with all of those other names.

Photo Credit: Jim Hughes

Stephen Wilson Jr.’s Dreams Have Been Outdreamed

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Stephen Wilson Jr. knows he doesn’t fit the mold of your typical mainstream country artist. But honestly, who needs that?

A 46-year-old former microbiologist and Golden Gloves boxer, the Southern Indiana native stands out with probing lyrics and an experimental sound to match. Grunge and jazz combine with country inside a drop-tuned gut-string guitar, powering the 2023 album søn of dad to critical acclaim and a slow build of career momentum. But Wilson has now reached exit velocity.

After a viral, six-minute solo performance of Ben E. King’s classic “Stand By Me” at the 59th Annual CMA Awards – so stark and surging it stunned Nashville’s Bridgestone Arena into complete silence – Wilson has followed up with the equally enigmatic single, “Gary.” Like his album debut (which was a tribute to his multi-faceted father), “Gary” takes an almost scientific approach to detailing the mythical class of people who don’t do fancy, but do get things done.

“When life gets very real, like your plumbing or your electricity goes out for two weeks like we experienced [in Nashville’s January ice storm], you need a Gary,” Wilson explains.

“Gary” is now climbing up the country radio charts and it will eventually become part of Wilson’s next album, currently in the works. But we wanted to catch up with him now. Wilson spoke with Good Country about his musical worldview just before the launch of his headlining Gary the Torch Tour, which kicked off March 6 in Columbus, Ohio – and just added dozens of dates through the summer and fall, including appearances in Europe and the United Kingdom.

I was hoping you could tell me a little about how your sound developed. I mean, you play a gut-string acoustic guitar, but not the way Willie Nelson does, right? It’s down-tuned and you have these very hypnotic sections that I really love. Have you always played guitar like that?

Stephen Wilson Jr.: Yes and no. I’ve been a guitar player of all ilks over the years. I’ve been an electric lead guitar player, a jazz nerd in college. And I was an indie rock guitar player for a long time. A lot of soundscaping and stuff like that. And I was super technical for a long time. I still am very much into Apocalyptica and Al Di Meola and the John McLaughlin Trio.

Oh, ok!

I used to go to sleep to the song “Mediterranean Sundance” [by Al Di Meola, Paco de Lucía] all the time. That was the soundtrack to my late teen years. And just because I love that kind of music, there’s a lot of percussiveness in the style that I play. Influencers like Dave Matthews, a lot of acoustic players like that, they kind of treated the guitar like a drum as much as they did a melodic instrument. …

I was also very influenced by the Seattle sound, all the drop tunings. The fundamentals of my guitar playing I kind of learned from the Superunknown record by Soundgarden. I learned it from front to back, and there’s so many different tunings and so many droney riffs that had a huge inspiration on me, too. So it’s really a combination of Seattle and then a bunch of Spanish-style guitar players.

Wow, I had no idea.

Then, I discovered Willie Nelson. I grew up listening to tons of country music, but it was more like George Jones and Johnny Cash and Hank Sr. and a lot of ’90s country. Willie wasn’t a big part of my soundtrack growing up. But I saw him at the Ryman Auditorium the year I moved to [Nashville] and it changed my life. I saw him playing a gut-string through two Baldwin [amps] with a pick and I’ve been pretty much chasing that ever since. I play a gut-string through an amp, too, but not the same way. It’s a lot heavier and a lot grungier. And, obviously, I use these drop tunings, which Willie doesn’t do, which has made for a lot of challenges in the production department. It’s like trying to figure out how to tame that animal, which is honestly kind of the point. I didn’t really want it to be tame. I want it to be wild. I liked that it always has the ability to get away from you.

I think it tells – definitely on stage.

That’s kind of what I learned from Willie when he would solo. He would just fly real close to the sun. He had no problem taking the 18-wheeler right to the edge of the cliff and seeing how far he could take it before it almost goes off the edge. And he’d always somehow pull it back on the track. I really lean into that every night and every song – every time we produce a song, we kind of go in hoping that the wild animal will show up. And it does all the time on stage, there’s a lot of unpredictable things that happen, but we kind of welcome them.

The untamed wildness of it. I would say you can even hear that in your lyrics. Tell me a little bit about “Gary” and why you felt the need to say this. You write about the value of blue-collar folks, how loyal, selfless, and capable they are. But also how they’re not appreciated enough sometimes.

Well, yeah, I grew up in a body shop. I’m a son of a body man.

Really? Me too.

Yeah. Grandson of a body man. All my uncles are auto body repairmen. I grew up in body shops. I grew up in a house that was surrounded by a cornfield, like the movie Signs. And there was farmers all around me. The blue-collar influence was everywhere. I grew up in a John Mellencamp song, literally. I grew up in a town where there was an abundance of these “Garys,” as I call them. I kind of started thinking about Garys as a subspecies of humanity, and I started to observe them in the wild, similarly to how Jane Goodall would observe chimpanzees and other greater apes. That’s kind of the approach with the whole song, but it was all inspired by a tragedy, really.

I was driving down a highway and I saw a memorial billboard sign and it said “in memory of Gary,” and there was a picture of a boy who was probably 16 years old. It was just really heartbreaking. I could feel the sadness and the heartbreak and the family’s plea to keep this boy alive in any way possible. I understand that plea. That’s why I made that album. I mean, søn of dad is a sonic monument to my father. That’s my billboard that I put on the side of the road to keep my dad alive, to keep his memory alive. So I really understood that sentiment behind it, just on the foundational level. And then when I saw it, I couldn’t help but say out loud in the car, “Dang, there ain’t a lot of boys named Gary these days.”

That’s where my brain started subconsciously turning Gary into a subspecies of human. And then honestly, the song just fell out. Because of my upbringing, it wasn’t really written. It was subconscious. I guess my brain just started writing, and that’s how I write pretty much all my songs. Generally, I write them fast and I write all the lyrics first. I wrote the whole chorus in my car right there and I just kept driving around and I kept writing it. Then I put it to music a couple hours later and it was 85 percent done.

It seems like people have really latched onto the “Gary” theme. Those people you can depend on, but they’re not flashy.

There’s a lot of truth to this Gary thing. There’s a lot of people coming up after the show or whatever. I was getting overwhelming evidence to basically prove that this Gary thing was real. … You really couldn’t deny the conclusions that, yeah, I’m not the only person that has seen this Gary theme. Because I had so many people like, “Dude, I know exactly who you’re talking about.” It wasn’t a couple months after we started playing and people were chanting “Gary” in the audience. The song wasn’t even recorded yet, let alone released. … Now it’s being played all over the country. It’s pretty wild.

And the song is sad. I mean, that’s the thing. I’m definitely celebrating a working-class human, but at the same time, it’s a very sad story. I wasn’t trying to make Gary some superhuman. I wanted to try to be real about the situation, because the Garys are endangered. We experienced that when we had this ice storm in Tennessee [in late January 2026]. We had to import Garys from all over the country to get everybody’s power back on. There’s logistical evidence that we just saw recently to prove that, yeah, these Garys? We’re running out of them, and maybe we should pay attention to that because we rely on them to fix things. … Instead of just letting them drive off into the abyss to go save another person’s day, how about we give them a moment and celebrate them?

You’re starting the Gary the Torch Tour in March, and that should help. I was wondering, what’s your favorite setting for listening to music? Do you consider that when you’re putting your tour together?

I guess I prefer vinyl, and I listen a lot in my vehicle as I’m driving. But also, I don’t listen to a lot of music. It probably will shock a lot of people, not that it matters to them, but I wouldn’t say that I just sit around and listen to music all the time. I listen to a lot of silence, and I think it’s really important for musicians to listen to as much silence as they do sound, because that’s where the inspiration for me really comes from – the silence, not the sound.

That’s actually fascinating.

As much as I want to sit around and listen to bops, I got to listen to nothing, too. I’ve never had a song come to my head from listening to another song, ever. It’s always come from silence.

@stephenwilsonjrwent loco tryna open my møuth more for y’all this time. “Cuckoo” live acoustic version out now. love y’all. 🖤🥕🏃🏻‍♂️♬ original sound – Stephen Wilson Jr.

I saw you at the Ryman Auditorium in November and I know those were special shows, but you had a boxing ring on stage there. Where do you go creatively from something like that?

That was very much an ode to my father and getting to that stage was all I ever dreamed of, really since I moved to town. Back to the first part of this conversation, seeing Willie Nelson at the Ryman? I’ve been dreaming about that show since I moved to town.

Typically I tend not to rely on a lot of spectacle for the show. I tend to rely on something divine. … The real light show is what descends into the room during those shows. That’s really what I try to focus on more than laser beams and a bunch of production tactics. I do have a really quirky stage design that I created. I have my own little world up there. And ideally, full-time, there will be a boxing ring on stage. We’re working out the logistics of bringing that around full-time because it’s quite the undertaking.

But I mean, I think it’s all about feeling at home up there. I’m not really supposed to be here in this world. I’m not a natural-born star, as they would call it. My goal is to try to feel comfortable up there, and get people feeling things. That’s what people really remember. I’m in the emotion business, not the music business.

You’ve been working on some new music, right? What do you hope people will take away from that?

Well, I’m working on a whole new record, which is more just the continuation of conversations and observations from where I left off. Because it would’ve been really easy to never make another record again after søn of dad.

Oh yeah?

I never was trying to be an artist in the first place. And there was a big part of me that was … I mean, honestly, when I was making that record that’s what I was thinking, if I’m going to be perfectly honest with you. “I’m going to make this and then I’ll never make another record again,” because why would I? Then the story of søn of dad just was so much a God thing. It was so divinely orchestrated that I just had a hard time thinking, “What would I do from here?” Everything I ever wanted to do was already done.

But that was my own stuff, and I don’t believe God put me in this position for me to do that. It took me some time to figure that out. I’ve got to give “Gary” the credit for that because when “Gary” showed up, that’s when I knew I wasn’t done. If “Gary” hadn’t showed up to show me that, I’m not sure I would’ve ever recorded another song ever again. Like I said, I’m not supposed to be here. None of this was supposed to happen. So for me to have any expectation of what is down the road is pretty comical. My dreams outdreamed me a long time ago. I really just want to focus on being there for people and being where I’m supposed to be.

That’s one thing I learned from being a scientist and doing all these things over the years: There’s where you can be and then there’s where you’re supposed to be. And there’s nothing wrong with being in either place. There’s no guilt to be had in being where you can be because, man, we’re all just trying to survive. But then there’s where you’re supposed to be, and that can be a very difficult place to be. But I’ve chosen to be there and for whatever reason, I intend to stay there until the day I die.

Photo courtesy of Missing Piece.

Basic Folk: The Mammals

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Mike Merenda and Ruth Ungar Merenda have been making music together as the Mammals since 2001, with a little break in 2008 to play as Mike & Ruthy. They’ve been back as the Mammals since 2017 with a couple of great albums, most recently Touch Grass Vol. 1 and Vol. 2. Mike, born and raised in New Hampshire, picked up the banjo after he met fiddler Ruth Ungar. Ruth is the daughter of Jay Ungar, a much-loved folk musician who is best known for his composition, “Ashokan Farewell,” used as the theme tune to the Ken Burns 1990 documentary The Civil War, which you now have playing in your head. Essentially, Ruth grew up surrounded by folk music, which she talked all about on her previous appearance on Basic Folk.

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This time around, we dig into a few of the songs on their double album Touch Grass. There are A LOT to choose from: seventeen tracks in all. It was a four-year project recorded at their Humble Abode studio in the Catskills. The songs offer a mix of socially conscious “daytime” folk-rock and introspective “nighttime” Americana. We get into the gospel influence on “O The Cruelty,” the bare-bones arrangements of “Old Friend,” and keeping the sadness in check with “Doldrums.” They also talk a bit about their home venue, the Ashokan Center, where their musical festival the Hoot takes place. Let it be known that the center has a ton of old farm equipment and no, they do not want any more, so don’t ask them to take it. Thanks, Mike & Ruthy!

Photo Credit: Lead image and vertical alternate image by Wayne Gibbous; square alternate image by Tanya Barricklo.

Bill Frisell Invites All of Us Inside His Guitar Dreams

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

The first time Bill Frisell played guitar in front of an audience was typical for the time. It was the summer of 1965 and he was 14. He’d saved up money from a paper route in his Denver-area neighborhood so he could buy his first electric.

“Oh man, I can still just…” He pauses, lost in nostalgic reverie, on a Zoom chat from his now-home in Brooklyn.

“I opened the case and I can just smell it,” he says. “It’s amazing.”

His face bears a beatific smile, his voice a genial, gentle tone – things that he’s known for nearly as much as his astonishing musical talents.

“I got a Fender Mustang and a Fender Deluxe amp,” he continues. “And then my other friend, he got an electric guitar and this other guy across the street played drums. We learned like three songs. And then within a couple of weeks we were playing for a party in somebody’s basement.”

He’s not sure what they played – “probably ‘Louie Louie’ and I don’t know what else.” But the feeling?

“I guess in a way, that’s kind of what I kept on doing,” he says. “Get with my friends, learn a couple of songs and then go play for people. And that’s all I’ve done ever since.”

It’s exactly what he did on a recent Wednesday at the new Blue Note jazz club in Hollywood at the start of a several-week “75th Birthday Celebration” tour, that milestone coming on March 18. The friends joining this night were bassist Luke Bergman and drummer Tim Angulo.

The set was more than three songs, of course, played, as is his frequent style, in a continuous, hour-long stream, moving through originals, jazz standards, and movie score themes, as well as an ethereal “Moon River,” a tremolo-inflected “Shenandoah” and, closing, Burt Bacharach’s ever-timely “What the World Needs Now Is Love.” Wrapping it up was a somber yet hopeful encore of “We Shall Overcome.” Throughout the show, he and his trio-mates play with remarkably fluid connections. The approach could be delicate or heavy, buoyant or somber – or somehow all at once.

And with each note, even amid immeasurable harmonic complexities, melodic sophistication, and the nimble skills he’s gained through the decades, there was that kid from 1965, his beaming smile and twinkling eyes revealing his utter, still-fresh delight.

Frisell approached every measure as fresh territory, ripe for discovery, for exploration, curious where an old melody might reveal something new, reveling in its beauty or finding richness in dissonance he adds. Sometimes he’d play around with a short, simple phrase for a bit, like a new toy. Occasionally he’d fiddle with effects to enhance his pointillistic Telecaster touch (he moved on from the Mustang years ago). He throws in a cluster of sonic fireflies here, some “backwards” sounds there. He even giggled a little once when he hit a bad note.

“It’s weird,” he says in conversation a few days before the concert. “I still feel like I’m just beginning. And I’m not kidding. I mean, I know I’ve been playing for a while, but it’s still that feeling [that] never goes away. I’d be fooling myself if I thought … “

He paused again, looking for the right words.

“You just can’t feel as it you finished anything.”

This all comes through profoundly on his new album, In My Dreams, his 45th (plus many dozens of collaborations, group, film and TV scores and sideman projects), released on February 27. It also features a trio (longtime collaborators Thomas Morgan on bass and Rudy Royston on drums joining him) plus a string trio (violinist Jenny Scheinman, violist Eyvind Kang and cellist Hank Roberts), as well.

The title references an actual dream he had years ago in which a group of mysterious, cloaked figures allowed him to experience things beyond our normal perception. First they showed him colors – intense and beautiful – and then music in which all the things he’s loved, from Nino Rota to Hank Williams to Jimi Hendrix to Thelonious Monk, lived together as one glorious sound.

The album, mostly recorded live in three concerts last summer, shows him pursuing that sound himself, with approaches that might be termed jazz, classical, and folk-Americana braided through originals sometimes tender, sometimes dark and intense. Also included are interpretations of the Duke Ellington/Billy Strayhorn classic “Isfahan,” Stephen Foster’s “Hard Times” and, to close, “Home on the Range.” The latter is previewed earlier in the album with his own fantasia on themes from the song that he calls “Give Me a Home.” And for the title song, fittingly, he created an anxious soundscape inspired in part by Bernard Herrmann’s Alfred Hitchcock scores.

Still, the dream remains a dream for him, something ever out of reach, but ever-alluring.

“I don’t even know when it was, 30 years ago when I had it or more,” he says. “And music in general is always something that you can’t quite…. “

He stops to choose his words again.

“It’s always a little bit past what you can get to,” he says. “But the dream was like that. It’s like, I don’t know if I’ll ever get there, but just keep trying.”

In My Dreams is a hearty grab at that ring, though that very elusiveness is a key part of his art.

“With these people, we’ve been playing together so long,” he says, noting that Royston and the string players all were together on his 2013 album Big Sur. “There’s this thing that started happening quite a while back where, for me, I just love the line between arranging and orchestration and composing. The lines get all sort of blurred. We’re all seeing the same information, like what I write could look like a piano score or something. And we figure out some stuff, but basically everyone is free. The cello doesn’t always play what’s on the bottom and the violin doesn’t always play what’s on the top. And there’s a thing that happens spontaneously amongst them, amongst all of us, dropping out or coming in or switching parts that’s really the exciting part of it for me.

“So it’s like you’re improvising with the whole texture of everything. It’s not like they’re playing some part and then I’m playing a solo on top of it. Ideally it’s like an ongoing conversation amongst all of us. I never want it to be predictable. Hopefully it’s always in a state of uncertainty. I mean, I want it to be strong, but at the same time I want everyone to feel safe that they can fall off the edge, and then we’ll come back and pick it up, because that’s where the good stuff happens.”

That, of course, goes back to the avant-garde settings in the New York downtown scene of the 1980s and ‘90s, where he made a name as part of boundary-pushing sax player John Zorn’s unpredictable jazz-metal ensemble, Naked City. But the sensibility remains core to him even in his frequent trips into folk, Americana, movie scores, and unabashedly romantic pop-rooted material. His 1992 album, Have a Little Faith, a musical portrait of America spanning from Foster and Sousa to Ives and Copland, from Muddy Waters and Sonny Rollins to John Hiatt and Bob Dylan to Madonna, remains a landmark in his vast catalog. And he’s recorded and performed with many Americana singer-songwriters including Paul Simon, Lucinda Williams, Joe Henry, Bonnie Raitt, Buddy Miller, and Shawn Colvin. He simply loves a good song with a good melody.

“I can’t help it,” he says. “I was born in 1951 and I grew up in Colorado, just as television and rock ‘n’ roll were all happening. It’s not a conscious thing. [But] at a certain point, I realized, ‘Wait a minute, I gotta not be afraid to show that that’s where I come from.’ I think when I was younger I was more worried about, ‘Oh, are people going to think this is not cool?’ But then after a point it’s like, well, wait a minute. This is what I am. This is where I came from. And if I’m really honest, I do like that melody. I like when Burt Bacharach wrote a really beautiful song and it’s not corny if you look at it a certain way.

“I think I learned that from the people I thought were the coolest, like Sonny Rollins. He would play songs that he heard when he was a kid, or that he saw in a Broadway show or whatever. And I realized he’s doing that because that’s his experience and his life. So it’s okay for me to play a Beach Boys song or a Beatles song, because that’s what I heard when I was growing up. And ‘Home on the Range,’ I mean, [I] probably heard it when I was in my mother’s womb or something, you know?”

Arguably, the latter is the emotional keystone of In My Dreams, particularly in tandem with his “Give Me a Home” musings on its melodic theme earlier on the album, the strings following him as he steps through and around the familiar melodies, clearly with Copland hovering over.

“I was messing around with ‘Home on the Range,’ I wrote all these different versions and then that particular one, it’s just a phrase from the song, doesn’t even get through the whole song. And then the title.” He laughs.

“When you think of what’s going on in [the world]. I mean, we play ‘Hard Times’ on there, too. It’s like, folks without a home. Where are we now? What is going on around here?”

Those questions come to the fore again on the full “Home on the Range” later. The song starts relatively straightforwardly, but after a couple of minutes it goes into a dark, abstract zone. That is how the album ends.

“I didn’t have that planned out,” he says. “The stuff just happens organically and then we piece it together, and that’s what it is. But then you see how the music reflects the place we’re at. I didn’t have a preconceived idea. It’s always easier after the fact to make a story out of it somehow.”

The story of Bill Frisell, inevitably, touches on his generous, easygoing manner. It seems to be mentioned every time someone talks or writes about him. Does he ever get tired of people saying how nice he is?

He hesitates.

“No,” he says, sheepishly. “I don’t know if I’m really that nice. I try to be a good person, but I don’t know. I mean, there’s a lot going on underneath the surface.”

He laughs, clearly uncomfortable with the topic.

“I get upset,” he says. “I have to wake up and look at the news every day and that doesn’t help, you know?”

He pauses one more time.

“But I guess that’s all the more reason for us to try to be good to each other.”

Photo Credit: Marko Mijailovic

The Other 22 Hours: S.G. Goodman

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Singer-songwriter S.G. Goodman has earned critical acclaim, award nominations, and has worked with legends like Tyler Childers, Jason Isbell, and Jim James of My Morning Jacket. In this episode of the Other 22 Hours, we discuss the grueling physical and mental requirements of “making it.” From working manual labor to stay afloat while not on the road to navigating the complex realities of running a bona fide business, S.G. opens up about scarcity, OCD, and the hard-won wisdom of learning to drive the lawnmower instead of letting it drive you.

LISTEN: APPLE • SPOTIFY • AMAZON • MP3

In This Episode:

– SG Goodman
– Mas Tacos
– Madison Cunningham
– Jesse Welles

Go Deeper:

Watch: View this entire conversation on YouTube.
Explore: Find similar conversations in these themed playlists.
Connect: Join the conversation on Instagram.

The Other 22 Hours is hosted by Aaron Shafer-Haiss (producer, mixer, musician) and Michaela Anne (songwriter, artist, creative coach). More about Aaron’s work. More about Michaela Anne’s work.

Produced by Aaron Shafer-Haiss. Original music written, performed and produced by Aaron Shafer-Haiss.

Photo Credit: Ryan Hartley

BGS 5+5: Cold Chocolate

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Artist: Cold Chocolate
Hometown: Boston, Massachusetts
Latest Album: Not Gonna Stop (released February 13, 2026)

(Editor’s Note: Answers supplied by Cold Chocolate’s Ethan Robbins.)

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

In May of 2020, smack dab at the beginning of the pandemic, my wife and I were expecting our second daughter. At the time, among other things, we were worried about whether or not I would be allowed to accompany my wife to the hospital to give birth – that’s the way the protocols were set. Fortunately I was able to, but unfortunately the birth didn’t go as smoothly as one always hopes it will and Casey, our daughter, had to remain in the hospital for 17 days after she was born. Because of the protocols at the time, my wife and I were not allowed to stay with her. So all we could do each day was call the hospital to find out when she was coming home. If you recall, back in the early pandemic days, each day felt like a year. Those 17 days really felt like 17 years.

It was an incredibly emotional time. I’d find myself crying out of nowhere, in the middle of the day, without any warning. It was during that emotionally charged period that I wrote “How You’re Feeling Today,” and although it was hard to find the right words to write and sing, it was incredibly cathartic in that moment. Through the writing of that song, I was able to start to see the light at the end of the tunnel. Now, when we play that song live, I get to revisit some of those feelings, but in a much more positive light – because Casey is 5 years old now. Incredibly healthy, incredibly beautiful, incredibly hilarious, and one of the best dressers I know.

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

We call our music Americana. It’s a broad term that’s meant to encapsulate many different genres, as does our sound. Our band goes back a long way, over a decade, and has evolved considerably over that time. When we began the band over 10 years ago, we had a banjo player and an upright bass player and the music we were playing was very much bluegrass-forward – or at least, that’s what we considered it to be. We always had drums, so some people may never have considered us a bluegrass band, but we did.

The issue for us back then was that the entire time our banjo player was touring with us he was also studying to get his PhD in Physics from Harvard University. So when he graduated and became a doctor, he had to make the very difficult decision whether to pursue his career in science or his career in banjo. He made the wrong decision that day – and we obviously continued on as a band and our music continued to evolve as anything and everything does over 10+ years of time.

We began to get enthralled by the music of bands like the Wood Brothers and the Black Keys, and I started playing electric guitar live more than ever before. Ariel [Bernstein] and I delved pretty far into what this electric sound allowed us to do. We found we were now able to play things and express things that we’d been unable to achieve before. So we went forth as an electric “power duo” (trademark pending) and wrote and performed a ton in that duo setting. Then, bam! – pandemic hits, and we don’t see each other for more than two years.

In May of 2022, I showed up at Ariel’s house and he says, “Oh, I play banjo now!” Through his banjo and my mandolin’s addition to our band, we were able to revisit some of the bluegrassy material that we’d started with so many years ago. We breathed fresh life into tunes that were as old as the band itself and now they feel like some of our newest songs. It’s added an arc to our albums and live shows that we adore. So in a live setting, we’ll play everything from electric funk and rock with a drum kit and guitar amp to acoustic bluegrass and folk with banjo and mandolin around a condenser mic. It’s hard to put one word on what we do. It’s all… us.

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

I started classical violin lessons when I was 4 years old. I studied with the same teacher until I went to college at 18. At the beginning, although there was certainly a level of enjoyment that I was aware of, I never connected with classical music in a way that made me want to take complete ownership of my music education. When I was 14, I started teaching myself guitar and my love of playing music started to grow. I was finally able to play things that I wanted to play. At the time, that was a lot of Dave Matthews Band – but it was the first time I realized that music could be so soul-fulfilling.

When I got to college at Oberlin, at that point listening to a lot of Grateful Dead, I met some people who were really into bluegrass. I didn’t know what that was at the time, but the first time I heard Old & In the Way I was sold. I went to the very first DelFest in 2008, right before spending the summer working for HeadCount – the voter registration organization – on a six-week tour with the Dave Matthews Band. It was that juxtaposition, seeing my favorite childhood band rock out every night then going to sleep listening to Peter Rowan and Vassar Clements in my headphones, that I started to visualize a life path for me as a musician.

It certainly took us some time as a band to figure out how to make that dream a feasible reality and, in some ways, we are still figuring that out. But truthfully, I just met the right friends at the right time, saw and listened to the right music when it mattered most, and that sparked the dream.

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

When I was at IBMA in 2024 in a meeting setting, as an icebreaker, someone asked what the first album each person had ever purchased was. Most people responded on-brand with a classic bluegrass or newgrass album, Bill Monroe’s Uncle Pen or Alison Krauss & Union Station’s Paper Airplane. For me, it was an easy answer: Third Eye Blind’s self-titled record. I know all of the words to all of the songs on that record and it’s still a personal fave of ours as a band. During late-night drives, we’ll blast that album front to back in the van. It still pumps us up, sets the vibe and energy high, and keeps us going full-speed ahead toward our next destination. ’90s pop, across the board, is a winner for this band, but that album specifically will always and forever hold a special place.

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

Great question. My top act to have seen live, hands down, would have to be the Band. Certainly Cold Chocolate’s musical vibe has been modeled after those raw, rootsy sounds of theirs. Their songs transcending genre, while being just so totally “them.” I’m not sure what food would pair best with seeing them. At The Last Waltz it was a Thanksgiving dinner, which is honestly one of my favorite meals of all time. But [with] a heavy meal, I’d want to dance my ass off at that show.

Southern BBQ is another obvious choice for Levon’s Arkansas-growl, but again maybe too heavy. I think I could get down with a fish boil at a show by the Band, thrown out across a table, family-style. Then I could grab little bites throughout the show while belting out “The Shape I’m In” with my idols on that stage.

WBUR recently wrote about us that our song “I Know This Girl” has “enough grit, drive and backbeat to make Cold Chocolate worthy heirs to The Band,” which is maybe the best thing ever written about us in the media.

Photo Credit: Lead image by Kelly Davidson, alternate images by Joe Navas.

10 Sonically Diverse Covers of Lucinda Williams Songs

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Befitting Lucinda Williams’ stature as one of the greatest songwriters of modern times, she might be the most covered artist this side of Bob Dylan (who, as far as I can tell, might be the only major artist never to have covered one of her songs).

From “Are You Alright?” to “You Can’t Rule Me” and all points in between, Williams’ catalog is broad, deep, and multivalent, with lavish emotional content to dig into. Truly, the woman’s body of work contains multitudes.

Where she’s coming from is no mystery, because Williams has always been generous about showing off her own influences and idols. She has covered too many other artists’ songs to count, by the likes of Dylan, Nick Drake, Howlin’ Wolf, and more. She has also done multiple tribute albums in her Lu’s Jukebox series, covering the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, Tom Petty, and even Christmas songs, among others.

There’s almost too much to choose from, but here is a small sampling of what other artists have done with Williams’ songs over the years – focused more on stylistic departures than faithful readings.

“Passionate Kisses” – Saintseneca (2014)

It’s hardly surprising that a great deal of this list of covers will come from 1988’s breakthrough album Lucinda Williams, starting with this forthright statement of purpose. The obvious “Passionate Kisses” cover choice would be Mary Chapin Carpenter’s 1993 hit version, which put both women on the map. But let’s go more left-field with the sprawling, atmospheric grandeur of the cover by Ohio indie-folk band Saintseneca. It’s never sounded more wide-open cinematic, to the point that I kind of can’t believe no one has put it onscreen yet. Cue opening credits.

“Bus To Baton Rouge” – Amos Lee (2023)

This Philadelphia-born soul man thinks enough of the Williams oeuvre to have covered 12 of her songs for an album, Honeysuckle Switches: The Songs of Lucinda Williams. Williams’ original appeared as the penultimate track of her 2001 release, Essence. The lyrics yield up the title phrase of Lee’s tribute LP, and it makes a stunning album-closer here.

“Side of the Road” – Ben Folds (2005)

In Williams’ hands, “Side of the Road” conveys stoic resolve on her 1988 self-titled joint. North Carolina native virtuoso Ben Folds transposes it to winsome piano pop for his 2005 solo album Songs For Goldfish, and the transition works beautifully.

“Change the Locks” – Tom Petty (1996)

Originally titled “Changed the Locks” on her eponymous album, this is in the conversation for Williams’ greatest songs. Her version coursed with undercurrents of the sort of domestic violence that would inspire a woman to, well, change her locks. So it’s interesting that so many men have taken a crack at this song in the decades since, including Silos, Vampire Weekend, Rostam, and Elvis Costello. But maybe best of all is Tom Petty, who recorded it for the soundtrack to 1996’s She’s The One, getting the defiance just right.

“Joy” – Bettye LaVette (2005)

As good as all of Williams’ records have been, it wasn’t until 1998’s GRAMMY-winning Car Wheels on a Gravel Road that she finally got herself a gold record. “Joy” was a high point, equal parts angry and exuberant. Still, powerhouse soul woman Bettye LaVette took it to a whole new level with a swamp-blues rendition on her 2005 comeback LP, I’ve Got My Own Hell to Raise.

“Abandoned” – The Lemonheads (2019)

While The Lemonheads’ troubled leader Evan Dando is a decidedly problematic figure, there’s no denying his taste in covers. The Lemonheads have released two volumes of cover collections with good, bad, and ugly songs by everyone from Townes Van Zandt and Yo La Tengo to Florida Georgia Line and GG Allin. From 2019, Varshons 2 also features a fuzz-toned version of Williams’ very forlorn “Abandoned” (yet another Lucinda Williams song).

“Concrete And Barbed Wire” – Bella White (2022)

There has always been a stateliness to the Car Wheels on a Gravel Road track “Concrete And Barbed Wire,” which was in Canadian songbird Bella White’s onstage setlist years before she released a studio version on 2024’s Five For Silver. The song’s waltz tempo makes a perfect fit for bluegrass – recorded live at the Green Mountain Bluegrass and Roots Fest in Vermont.

“Metal Firecracker” – Mary Lou Lord (2015)

Everybody’s favorite busker, Mary Lou Lord is best-known for solo deconstructions of songs from the indie-rock canon. But on her 2015 LP Backstreet Angels, Lord goes full-band indie-rock for “Metal Firecracker” (which Williams originally cut on Car Wheels on a Gravel Road). Lord sounds dreamy to Williams’ earthiness – but both versions come down to, “All I ask, don’t tell anybody the secrets I told you.”

“People Talkin’” – Hurray For the Riff Raff (2012)

Maybe the acid test of a song’s worthiness is how well it holds up if stripped all the way down to voice and quiet strumming. As if there could be any doubt, Williams’ “People Talkin’” (from 2003’s World Without Tears) is superb in this guitar-and-fiddle version that Hurray For the Riff Raff recorded in a London kitchen for an edition of “notes from mt. pleasant.”

“Fruits of My Labor” – Waxahatchee (2021)

“Fruits of My Labor” seems like a song that’s still going to be played around campfires a century from now. Its structure and vibe bear passing resemblance to that classic spiritual, “A Change Is Gonna Come,” and it’s been covered numerous times since first appearing on Williams’ 2003 LP World Without Tears – fine, fine versions by Margaret Glaspy, Mia Dyson, and Rostam, among others. But Waxahatchee (Alabama-born Katie Crutchfield) gets closest to the song’s soul with her cover from 2021’s Saint Cloud +3 album.

“The Last Time” – Lucinda Williams (2021)

We’ll break the format here at the end and give Williams herself the last word, showing everyone how one pays proper cover homage. From her 2021 tribute LP, You Are Cordially Invited…A Tribute to the Rolling Stones, “The Last Time” is a song with a long and winding road behind it. Originated by the Blind Boys of Alabama, it was famously covered by the Staple Singers in 1961. Four years later, the Stones fit it with a snarling lead-guitar hook that took it out of church – and here Williams moves it right on over to the honky-tonk.

Continue exploring our Artist of the Month coverage of Lucinda Williams here.

Photo Credit: Mark Seliger

The Steel Wheels’ Songs for Humans, by Humans

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

It’s common these days to wring hands over the many ways powerful tech companies have meddled, without permission, in how we discover and listen to music (among other things). It’s just as common to fearfully declare that music’s good old days are past and gone. But after 20 years as a working band, we know that the strength of community through music is much more enduring; and we see it all the time.

There is no greater force than a group of people who are ready to share a joyful experience. It doesn’t matter if they’re gathering to jam, attend a concert, or anything else. People in community can create strong connections in a heartbeat, under almost any circumstances, and music is a powerful vehicle for it. Some days it feels harder than others to find that spark, but it’s always there if we come together and dig for it. Every day the pressure grows to strip the things we all have made and love for parts, but collectively we can raise our voices and push back. As a band, we’re choosing to resist that force and to keep building things. Together.

This playlist features artists that we feel musical and professional kinship with, bands that have been around and are well into their careers. The songs we chose come from albums that are worth spending time with over and over again. These folks have played lots and lots of gigs and revel in the energy of a great show as much as we do. You’ll also find some music from our 9th studio album, The Steel Wheels, too. Music that we made together in a room. – The Steel Wheels

“Easy” – The Steel Wheels

A breezy song with a swirling fiddle intro and a big question at its heart. We live in the future now, with the entire world available to us on the other side of our screens. So why are we lonelier than ever? If everything is supposed to be easy, why does it all feel so hard?

“Talk Is Cheap” – Dr. Dog

Because they inspired me with one incredible Bristol Rhythm & Roots Reunion set probably 15 years ago. Their old amps, their confident trailblazing of their sound that was clearly referential and respectful – but not chasing what a lot of other bands were chasing.

“Los Angeles” – Big Thief

An artist’s job is to remain open and soft to the world and to distill all that pain and joy into work that transmits emotion across space and time. Somehow, Big Thief seems to only become less jaded with time, maintaining curiosity and exploration as part of their creative process.

“Go Back” – The Steel Wheels

All deep relationships come with joy and with pain. To be rid of one you would also lose the other. It’s part of lived experience, this is a reminder to embrace all of it. True connection is worth it.

“Waiting For The Sun” – The Jayhawks

The Jayhawks are a band that prove you can continue to forge your own way and make it through the highs and lows. I was still really just a kid when I discovered them through some older cats I was playing with at the time. Son Volt and Wilco were very much in the alt-country scene and the Jayhawks just had something a bit different going on.

“Worried About The Weather” – Greensky Bluegrass

I love the way this song pivots between the anxiety of pushing forward through uncertainty and the breezy delight of taking a moment to enjoy the journey. There’s momentum to both things and “Weather” has tons of it.

“Keep On Dancing” – The Steel Wheels

Let’s take a break from responsibilities to just see ourselves and each other. Don’t forget to breathe and to appreciate the unadorned peace that can fill the spaces between us.

“I And Love And You” – The Avett Brothers

Even a track like this, one full of solitary stillness, shows the Avetts’ songs are packed with other people. They always remind me that I’m not as alone as I often feel. You can sense the presence of old partners and family throughout this song even though the speaker is alone in their car.

“Valerie” – The Brothers Comatose

These guys are everybody’s friends. Maybe the acoustic Dawes? I don’t know. We’ve known them a long time and they keep bringing joy and fun with warmth and grounded songs that don’t rely too heavily on bluegrass tropes.

“Sway / Endless Highway (Pt. 2)” – Watchhouse

Watchhouse invest deep thought into every lyric and intention into every note without ever seeming to overthink their process or get held back by previous work. “Sway / Endless Highway (Pt. 2)” demonstrates how the band is constantly in conversation, transitioning between tempos and driving down into a deep groove with a breeziness that belies the technical mastery of their acoustic instruments. At a Watchhouse show, the crowd will hang on every note and every silence, sharing a reverence for the song with the band.

“Slow Rise (to the middle)” – The Wood Brothers

Oliver, Chris, and Jano seem to be propelled forward by some groove force that penetrates everything they do and they invite listeners to join in on the funky joy. Their track “Slow Rise (to the middle)” tips a hat to their musical journey. To be in an audience is to get lost in the moment, only to occasionally remind yourself how wild it is that all the sounds coming from the stage emanate from just three musicians.

“Way Down Yonder ” – Chatham County Line

I first heard Chatham County Line when I opened for them at The Livery in Benton Harbor, Michigan, with a jamgrass band I was in, probably 20 years ago. They were tight and had their act together. I was blown away by their professionalism and it made a big impact on me. I will never forget that moment and I’m still inspired by their creativity and longevity as a band.

Photo Credit: Monik Geisel

You Gotta Hear This: Steep Canyon Rangers, Jim Lauderdale, and More

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Welcome to the conclusion of another week. With it, we’re once again sharing our weekly roundup of brand-new tracks, singles, videos, and more. You Gotta Hear This!

To start us off, Kentuckian singer-songwriter and instrumentalist Adam Chaffins shares a lyric video for “Sugarcoat It,” a new original song about the temptation and believability in misinformation these days. Chaffins and his collaborators leverage groove and catchy hooks for a meaningful and oh-so-timely message in the rockin’ Americana track. Also bringing a topical and cutting central thesis are Joe Troop & the Truth Machine, who have released a new live performance video for “Billionaires.” Bluegrass and old-time stemming from Southwest Virginia are the musical trappings for a funny, satirical song taking the 1% of the 1% to task. Troop and his queer cohort are well equipped to proffer their message with silliness, joy, and string band music.

From across the Atlantic, Spanish (via Amsterdam) singer-songwriter Liza Lo shares “Birdsong,” a tender and vibing alt-folk number zooming in on the present moment. “Life can get overwhelming and the simple things are quickly forgotten or overlooked,” she explains to BGS, using the song to remind all of us – and herself – not to lose sight of the beauty in the simplest of everyday things.

Bluegrassers Chris Jones & the Night Drivers have a new single out today. “Steal My Today” is the band’s first recording released with their latest member, Nelson Williams, playing the bass. Plus, Italian resonator guitarist Paolo Ercoli guests on the track, which also features banjoist Grace van’t Hof throwing some accordion into the mix. It’s also a song about the present moment, and not letting it be soiled by another. Meanwhile, perhaps the most prolific recording artist in roots music has announced a new project. Jim Lauderdale once again teams up with the Po’ Ramblin’ Boys, this time on his upcoming album The Birds Know – out in April. The lead single, “We Look At Things In Different Ways,” furthers our unofficial theme today of examining societal discourse, by pointing out you actually can love and care for another even with disparate points of view.

And, you won’t want to miss the latest from Western North Carolina’s bluegrass troubadours the Steep Canyon Rangers. Earlier this week they launched “Rumble Strips” a new single that will be included on their May Yep Roc Records release, Next Act. Written by Aaron Burdett, it’s a straight ahead bluegrass jam about getting back on track after you’ve wandered a bit from your lane and hit the rumble strips. But hope need not be lost, as Burdett points out, often you “maybe only need a little course correction to get back on the right path.”

Just in time for St. Patrick’s Day next week, country rockers Reckless Kelly share a reimagined, “evolved” acoustic version of “Seven Nights in Eire.” They originally released the song in 2005 on Wicked Twisted Road and it’s since become a fan favorite. This new edition of the track features mandolin, fiddle, pedal steel, and more combining country, Celtic, and string band in a pub-ready blend.

Check it all out below, right here on BGS. You Gotta Hear This!

Adam Chaffins, “Sugarcoat It”

Artist: Adam Chaffins
Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee, via Louisa, Kentucky
Song: “Sugarcoat It”
Release Date: March 13, 2026 (single)
Label: Spirit Nashville Recordings / Fluid Music Revolution

In Their Words: “Lately it just feels harder and harder to tell what’s real and what isn’t with so much information flying at us all the time. Sometimes, you hear something so outrageous you assume it can’t possibly be true – until you realize it is. That tension really shaped the song. It’s got sweet, sugary, sticky hooks and a groove you can’t help but move to, while shining a little light on how the truth can sometimes be deceiving. It was a lot of fun to track this playing upright bass. Along with Frank Rogers and the crew we really brought it to life. We’ve got a lot of new music on the way and we’re really excited to kick it off with this one.” – Adam Chaffins

Chris Jones & the Night Drivers, “Steal My Today”

Artist: Chris Jones & the Night Drivers
Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee
Song: “Steal My Today”
Release Date: March 13, 2026 (single)
Label: Mountain Home Music Company

In Their Words: “This song represents some firsts for us: it’s our first release to feature Nelson Williams on the bass (including some bowed bass). He’s the newest Night Driver, though he’s already been with us for over two years. It’s also our first time to feature Italian Dobro player Paolo Ercoli as a musical guest. He and I have been doing duo tours in Europe and in the U.S. for a few years now. Grace van’t Hof and I co-wrote the song, one about not letting the material loss of a breakup take away the joy of the present moment. Grace also played banjo and even added some accordion to the recording.” – Chris Jones

Track Credits:
Chris Jones – Acoustic guitar, lead vocal
Nelson Williams – Bass
Mark Stoffel – Mandolin, harmony vocal
Grace van’t Hof – Banjo, accordion, harmony vocal
Tony Creasman – Drums
Paolo Ercoli – Resonator guitar

Jim Lauderdale, “We Look At Things In Different Ways”

Artist: Jim Lauderdale & the Po’ Ramblin’ Boys
Hometown: Troutman, North Carolina
Song: “We Look At Things In Different Ways”
Album: The Birds Know
Release Date: March 13, 2026 (single); April 24, 2026 (album)

In Their Words: “This song came through me to speak to these times of divisiveness in our world. It was an important message I wanted to get out: that you can still love somebody even though your views might differ.” – Jim Lauderdale

Liza Lo, “Birdsong”

Artist: Liza Lo
Hometown: Amsterdam, the Netherlands
Song: “Birdsong”
Release Date: March 18, 2026
Label: Gearbox Records

In Their Words: “‘Birdsong’ reminds me of a new love, a gentle morning walk, or a hug from a friend. Life can get overwhelming and the simple things are quickly forgotten or overlooked. First morning coffees, meeting someone new, real connection, holding hands, song of birds in the garden, the smell of spring air, sunlight on your face after a long period of rain and grey. ‘Birdsong’ is written to remember the beauty in the smallest of things life gives us, I hope it can be this reminder for you too.” – Liza Lo

Track Credits:
Sean Rogan – Acoustic guitar
Chris Rabbits – Double bass
Owen Spafford – Fiddle
Liza Lo Hoek – Vocals, acoustic guitar

Reckless Kelly, “Seven Nights In Eire (Alternate Routes)”

Artist: Reckless Kelly
Hometown: Austin, Texas
Song: “Seven Nights in Eire (Alternate Routes)”
Album: Alternate Routes
Release Date: March 13, 2026 (single)
Label: No Big Deal Records

In Their Words: “‘Seven Nights In Eire’ is a collection of stories based on trips taken to Ireland by myself, my dad Muzzie, and our old friend Pinto Bennett. We had all been there individually a time or two and had had some amazing experiences that we wanted to write about. We got together at Pinto’s house in Boise, Idaho, and after a couple hours and a few beers, we had the song down. We basically just sat around swapping stories and telling jokes and working them into the verses that became the song as you know it today.

“The original version was recorded for our 2005 release, Wicked Twisted Road. Over the years it’s become a fan favorite and one of our most popular songs, so we decided to include it in its new evolved version on Alternate Routes. We had our friend Kym Warner come play some mandolin on it and we did the version we’ve been playing live over the last several years. It’s a little different from the OG, but it’s one of those songs that has stood the test of time and will definitely continue to be a staple on the set list.” – Willy Braun

Steep Canyon Rangers, “Rumble Strips”

Artist: Steep Canyon Rangers
Hometown: Asheville, North Carolina
Song: “Rumble Strips”
Album: Next Act
Release Date: March 10, 2026 (single); May 22, 2026 (album)
Label: Yep Roc Records

In Their Words: “My friend Nate is fond of saying when a person has gotten off track a little bit and notices they’ve ‘hit the rumble strips’ and maybe only need a little course correction to get back on the right path. I took this imagery and applied it to a relationship. Some ongoing conversations between Graham [Sharp] and I filled this one out.” – Aaron Burdett, songwriter, guitarist, vocalist

Joe Troop & the Truth Machine, “Billionaires”

Artist: Joe Troop & the Truth Machine
Hometown: Winston-Salem, North Carolina
Song: “Billionaires”
Album: The Truth Machine (EP)
Release Date: March 13 2026 (video); April 3 2026 (EP)

In Their Words: “I formed this band with friends that I made at the Galax Fiddlers Convention many moons ago. This track has Southwest Virginia written all over it. It’s Southern bluegrass gospel with four-part vocal harmonies in the Stanley Brothers style.

“Lyrically, it’s unabashed political satire, a high lonesome roasting of MAGA and their principal talking points. But funnily enough, people often approach me after gigs to thank me for singing it without realizing it’s satire. Yikes! Is media literacy a problem in this country? On occasion, some folks have walked out on our show during this song. One couple told the presenter that they didn’t pay to be insulted – they work hard for their money! And while we aren’t ragging on anyone for accumulating wealth, to add some perspective: a million seconds is 11 days. A billion seconds is 32 years. Who needs that much money!? What could you possibly spend it on?! Election meddling, propagating divisive talking points? Beyond partisan politics, the wealth disparity in this country ought to alarm everyone. We plebs are not that different. Let’s rally together around music, laughter, and class justice in this billionaire-induced hellscape of a country. It’s time for a change!

“‘Billionaires’ is part The Truth Machine, a five-track EP that drops everywhere on April 3, 2026. It is available for preorder now on my website.” – Joe Troop

Track Credits:
Joe Troop – Banjo, vocals
Lu Furtado – Guitar, vocals
Malia Furtado – Fiddle
Olivia Fernandez – Mandolin, vocals
Jimmy Washington – Bass, vocals

Video Credits: 
Kayla L Oelhafen – Producer
Alexei Mejouev – Videographer
Andy Augustyn – Gaffer
Larry Vellani, Toni Murray – Location coordinators

Photo Credit: Steep Canyon Rangers by Jay Strausser; Jim Lauderdale by Jeff Fasano.

Magoo on Taking Chances and Giving Up Second Guessing

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Magoo has been lighting up Colorado’s vibrant and crowded jamgrass scene since 2022. Their collision of string band music with danceable beats, jazzed up instrumental breaks, and anthemic lyrics rooted in rock has led guitarist Erik Hill to coin the phrase “bluegrass with lasers” to describe their sound and style.

After turning heads with two volumes of Magoo The EP in 2023 and 2024, the band – now comprised of Dylan Flynn (Dobro), Courtlyn Bills (mandolin), A. Denton Turner (bass), and Hill – have finally unleashed their full-length debut, What A Life. The 10-song compilation sees the upstart group of pickers contemplating everything from the sacrifices of a life lived on the road, the places that have transformed us, and how our stories are all connected.

Across 52 minutes of run time, the musicians rip their way through meandering jams that flow freely from one song to another as if it was a live show, an approach Hill says was intentional to keep the album from feeling sterile.

“Our live shows and recordings are very important to us, so it was imperative that this album not feel so copy and paste or cut and dry like studio projects often can be,” explains Hill. “I think we landed on a nice, organic feel that stretches the songs out, but not as much as we do when you see us live. In that sense, it serves as a good bridge between the two.”

During a free-flowing conversation with the band inside the green room at The Burl in Lexington, Kentucky, midway through their winter tour, Magoo spoke about the DIY approach to What A Life, Telluride’s significance to the group, near-death experiences, and more.

Why was now the right time to release your debut record?

Erik Hill: We had all the songs that we wanted to record. With the EPs we released previously, we basically recorded the couple originals that we had at the time along with a few covers. Eventually we started collecting a nice set of original music and figured it was time to do a full-length album.

Denton Turner: A big part of it is just having all the parts in place, from our management to booking people, so we can hit the road full speed. But in order to do that right it was important we have an album out to go with it – we needed a product to market. That was a big motivator for us this year, having an album to really kick in the door and make the most of our 100+ shows this year. Getting those other pieces in place on our team gave us ample time to focus on recording. When you’re trying to do everything it’s easy to half-ass it all, so having them by our side allows us to focus on and tackle what we love – the music – head on.

And with What A Life you opted to tackle it in your own DIY studio. Tell me about that experience?

Courtlyn Bills: I’ve made about 80 records in the past, but for this one everything was set up special just to make this album. I was moving and had my dad drive up a bunch of equipment from Texas, including my console he’d been holding in storage that was previously owned by Prince.

EH: Sessions were scattered throughout the month when we weren’t touring. Any time we were able we’d try getting over to Courtlyn’s to bang out a tune or two.

CB: There were a lot of 4 a.m. sessions. The coffee pots were flowing! The only big difference from one session to the next came on the jams, which we decided to use our pedal boards on and mic them up simultaneously. The only other thing is that I changed the action in my mandolin near the end of some tunes, which is why my mandolin sounds a bit thicker to close out three songs. There was a lot of us repeatedly asking each other, “How does your instrument sound?” Because there’s no turning back now, so no pressure. [Laughs]

DT: Even though we’re coming from touring and going straight into recording and back to touring – which seems hectic in a way – it’s nice for me doing [songs] one at a time. Being in a studio can be a grueling, tedious process, so having the luxury of being able to do it ourselves when it made sense for us was nice. We were able to just focus on one song or two songs at a time and give them all our attention. It didn’t feel like we were on the clock and paying by the hour with the pressure to get it all done quickly. Instead we were able to focus on banging out a song then hitting the road and discussing what next song we want to do and develop next before coming back being ready to give that song the attention it deserves, which was a lot of fun.

Courtlyn, you mentioned having a deep catalog of producer credits already. Has it always been a goal of yours to record your own band’s projects?

CB: I first started working in a studio when I was 15, mostly with younger artists that have less developed material, which I love. However, what I don’t love recording is my own music, which is why I never made a record for myself up to this point. But the cool thing about Magoo is, even though I write for and sing a lot with them, it feels like I’m working for a band and not myself. Knowing that removed a lot of the pressure of it being a make or break thing because I could trust my dudes. If they said something was good I wouldn’t question it, I’d just say, “Let’s move on!”

If I’m not mistaken, the only song you didn’t record at the DIY studio was “Angel Of Telluride,” which you flew to Nashville to knock out with its feature artist, Sam Bush. How’d that one come about?

CB: That connection came about through Jeff Fasano, an amazing photographer who used to shoot the rock band I was in prior to Magoo. Whenever we first met I had just started playing mandolin and I remember him telling me that he could see into my soul and could tell that playing it was my destiny, not rock music. I knew he was also close to Sam, so when I eventually wrote “Angel Of Telluride” I did it to be a Sam Bush song.

One day Jeff emailed Sam about the song and once he realized we were a real band and not full of shit he gave me a call and said he’d be honored to be a part of it. When we got to recording, I remember asking him if he wanted a producer credit on the song and he turned it down even though he was still effectively acting as a producer, because every freaking note, chord change, and tone shift he hit was spot on.

DT: Sam actually beat us to the studio the day we recorded. We wound up spending the entire day hanging out with him. It reminds me of a line in “What A Life” – “Buy the ticket, take the ride.” You only get one life, so don’t shy away from taking chances and shooting for the stars. Who knows, you might just wind up at a studio in Nashville recording with one of your heroes. Working with Sam never would’ve happened if we hadn’t taken the chance, and I’m so glad we did. I hope it inspires others to bet on themselves and their abilities too.

That song also holds a lot of significance given what the Telluride Bluegrass Festival has meant to the band, notably how you wound up bringing Courtlyn into the fold. Can you tell me about that?

Dylan Flynn: Erik, myself, and my Uncle Paul [Flynn] were the original Magoo and would regularly attend and pick around at festivals like Telluride, Rockygrass, and Tico Time. Then a few years ago Courtlyn, still new to bluegrass at the time, stumbled into our campsite. We ended up picking all week, through the night until 8 a.m. each day.

Then at one point when we were watching Greensky Bluegrass perform I remember him turning to me and saying, “I want to be in your band” and I responded, “I just met you like five minutes ago. Let me talk to the guys about it first.” [Laughs] But after spending all that time with him there and seeing not just how his brain works, but also how far along he was as someone still new to bluegrass, it was a no-brainer. In the weeks after Telluride it dawned on us that he was the missing piece we needed, not just as a player but as a person as well.

We rode with that lineup for about a year until my Uncle Paul decided he wanted to step away from music to travel the world – he’s actually rooting us on from Thailand right now. But when he departed, Denton was presented to us by a mutual friend. Similar to Courtlyn, after being introduced he tagged along to play several gigs before we formally asked him to join us long-term.

DT: I still remember them proposing to me and making it official with a Slim Jim ring. I still have mine and see it every day. It’s on the bus sitting on the butter tray in our fridge. [Laughs]

Sounds like you’re preserving it like one of those Big Macs you see in a museum that’s unchanged after 20 years!

Switching gears now – Courtlyn, what led to your move from the rock world into bluegrass?

CB: I was seeing the String Cheese Incident and going to festivals like Hulaween a lot, but I still didn’t quite love or understand bluegrass yet. I come from a really progressive and heavy world of jazz fusion, metal, and radio rock, but once I started hearing Cheese do more bluegrass-leaning songs I started falling in love and learning how to do them myself.

Then in 2019 – still prior to picking up a mandolin – I ingested DMT for the first time. When I did, I remember a friend who’d been telling me for years that even though I didn’t know it, that I was a mandolin player. [He] put a 1916 Gibson A[-style mandolin] into my hands and told me to shred. I don’t know how to explain it besides it being like “Dr. Strange,” but with numbers. It was that moment I became a mandolin player.

From there I formed a Celtic band and began plugging away with that, all the while realizing I had to get this bluegrass thing figured out. Bluegrass is one of the most prominent genres in the counterculture-ish scene that I loved being a part of, from String Cheese people to Deadheads and Spreadnecks and beyond. One day I sat myself down and said bluegrass is gonna have to be it – you are married to bluegrass now. Then I started going online and listening to pickers like Ricky Skaggs, Sierra Hull, Jarrod Walker, and David “Dawg” Grisman, slowing down YouTube videos to learn their breaks. That was about it. Once I learned what was going on in bluegrass musically, then it was obvious that these guys and gals are monsters. To be able to create such a back pocket with no drums on that mash grass stuff – there’s nothing like it.

You’re right, there is nothing like it! With that in mind, is that what your song “What A Life” is about – taking chances and being grateful to make a living making music?

CB: The melody and chorus for that song came together really quickly one day in my buddy’s living room. At that time in my life, the songs I was writing didn’t hold a lot of meaning or significance, so I wanted this one to be profound. The last verse really says it all: “What a life/ Is what I thought before I got swallowed by the tide/ Something felt amazing/ But I knew it wasn’t on the other side.”

I had a near-death experience when I was 19 and that is where I take a lot of the song’s inspiration from – although in the beginning I try to get cute talking about grandpas and other relatives and how their actions and memories have impacted the person you are in this very moment. Despite how insignificant those stories may seem to you right now, the fact that they were passed down and made it to you means they must’ve been pretty big moments in their and your family’s history.

So even though something like hopping into a stranger’s car and hauling ass to Telluride may not seem significant to anything other than the present moment, it’s so much more than that. We’re all connected in the climb and the work we put in together to build the memories we cherish. If none of us were here, what would be the point?

DF: …There’d be no life at all. That’s my favorite line in the entire song: “If none of us were here there’d be no life at all.” [Laughs]

A big part of the musical life and memories in your Colorado stomping grounds are its vibrant jamgrass community, a talented and tight-knit group that reminds me a lot of the Kentucky scene I’ve been fortunate to grow up in. What are your thoughts on the scene there and where Magoo fits into it all?

EH: We’re pretty lucky to call Colorado our home base. It’s certainly a breeding ground for a lot of great bands and even better music fans. People that love our type of music are everywhere in Colorado, no matter what town you’re in. From Denver to Boulder and up in the mountain towns, people want to hear that jam music, bluegrass, or a mix of both. It keeps us constantly busy and buzzing with new ideas to explore.

DF: We also have so many friends who are a part of great bands like Clay Street Unit, Tonewood String Band, and The Fretliners. I have more friends in my life now than ever before because of the community that we’re building. It’s also funny too – like one day I was driving home and saw [the Infamous Stringdusters’] Andy Hall in my neighborhood and am in awe, only to find out he lives half a mile down the road. My number one Dobro inspiration is Andy Hall, so having him so close by is a testament to just how unbelievable the music scene is in Colorado right now.

CB: There’s just something about being above 8,500 feet [elevation] that pushes people to their limits, whether it’s climbing a mountain or writing a song. The special thing about Colorado is the people here are making music for their friends. They’re making music for their little community to get together and have a good time. Someone like Vince Herman isn’t out there writing a song to have a number one hit. He’s writing a song so his family and his homies can get in front of the stage and throw down and feel comfortable and have the time of their lives, which is exactly what we’re getting to do now.

All: What a life!

What has bringing this album to life taught you about yourselves?

EH: Doing this album DIY style, we had to learn to trust ourselves and say, “Hey, this is really good.” You can sit here and nitpick each part and each take fucking forever, but at the end of the day what we have is really good, good enough to put out for people.

DT: For me, it’s in line with the phrase “what a life,” to take the chance and take the ride, call Sam Bush, whatever. I hope it inspires others the way it inspired me. When I met these guys, I lived three and a half hours away on a good day, but I saw what was going on and wanted to be a part of it. That meant getting in my car and driving to Denver multiple times a week to practice and learn the material. People thought I was crazy, but if you want something, you’ve got to go for it and give it your all. When you do that, amazing things can happen.

This whole experience has been a case in point of that, especially with the Sam Bush thing and making that call. We didn’t sit there and second guess ourselves about it and look at what happened. It’s always worth your time to give it a shot. You never know where the ride will take you. For me, that’s what this is all about.

Photo Credit: Jeff Fasano