Circles have played a huge role in fiddler and singer Morgan Toney‘s life thus far: from drum circles, to talking circles, to the Earth itself (a circle!). In our Basic Folk conversation, Morgan talks about his L’nu (also known as Mi’kmaq) heritage and growing up on what’s now called Cape Breton, Nova Scotia, where his ancestors have lived since time immemorial. He elaborates on the significance of the terms ‘Mi’kmaq’ and ‘Nu,’ explaining the shift in terminology among his people. As a teenager, he discovered his Indigenous heritage and cultural roots from his elders after he moved to Wagmatcook (a First Nations reserve) and learned about how the power of music could shape his life. He shares the story of first hearing Phil Collins at his uncle’s house after school, which inspired him to take up the drums. He soon discovered First Nations drumming by directly learning the songs from elders in talking circles. Morgan also talks about his transition from a shy teenager to a confident musician deeply immersed in both Mi’kmaq and Celtic musical traditions, creating a unique fusion which Morgan calls “Mi’kmaltic.”
We also talk about Morgan’s emotional connection to his community and the importance of music in rediscovering and celebrating his Indigenous heritage. He recounts how his exposure to traditional Mi’kmaq songs and ceremonies as a teenager was a transformative experience that reignited his cultural pride. In music and in our conversation Morgan pays homage to his family members, especially his elders, who played pivotal roles in nurturing his musical talents and helping him embrace his cultural identity. Finally, Morgan reflects on his musical collaborations, including his close partnership with producer Keith Mullins, and the creation of his new album, Heal The Divide. He further explains the innovative process of blending Mi’kmaq and Celtic musical elements, the album’s thematic focus on community and healing, and his aspirations to inspire the younger generation of his community. This was truly an inspiring conversation exploring the intersections of culture, history, and music with a very special musician!
As an artist who believes the sad songs of the world could be a little sadder, of course there’s a haunting beauty to the work of Ken Pomeroy.
With her debut album, Cruel Joke, the 22-year-old Oklahoma-born Cherokee Nation member gives fans a gorgeous tribute to inner unease rooted in the wisdom of her own hard times. Pairing a feathery, lilting vocal with an earthy folk sound – plus metaphoric themes filled with animals and the lessons of nature – she looks back on a difficult upbringing, turning tears into sonic transcendence.
Pomeroy’s “Wall of Death” was featured in the 2024 film Twisters, and she’s been on the road with everyone from Lukas Nelson and Iron & Wine to American Aquarium and John Moreland. Good Country even featured the track “Cicadas” back in 2024. But with Cruel Joke, the world finally gets a full look at a “deep feeling” talent on the rise.
Speaking from her home in Tulsa, Pomeroy fills us in on the making of her debut album and an origin story with no punch line.
For folks who don’t know, tell us a little bit about where you’re coming from. You grew up in Oklahoma and you’re part of the Cherokee Nation, right? Does that show up in the tunes?
Ken Pomeroy: Oh, yeah. I never really tried to put it in anywhere. I think it just fits in naturally with how I write music in general. There are a lot of themes of nature and traditional storytelling elements that I include – animals and things of that sort – that I think carry through just naturally. And storytelling is such a huge part of pretty much every tribe, and specifically the Cherokees are huge storytellers. So I don’t think it’s a coincidence I’m writing songs and telling stories.
No, I bet not. I love the way you’re able to use animals. It seems like a great way to talk about yourself or other people, but through metaphor. Does [the use of animals] make that a little bit easier?
Absolutely, yes. I think kind of assigning someone something, it makes it 10 times easier, not so direct.
Like an artful way of saying something that’s hard to say?
Yes, absolutely.
Tell me a little about where your sound comes from. So many moments on Cruel Joke are hushed and haunting. What did you grow up listening to? Where did you pick up music?
Well, honestly, I’ve been playing music and writing for longer than I haven’t been. I really got started from hearing John Denver when I was 6 or 7 years old. That was the start. I wanted to do that and I wanted to make people feel like he made me feel at that moment. It was like a third eye opening about maybe I could do this. And the album, when I sit down and write a song, I am not thinking about production really. I just kind of write the song, me and my guitar, and then that’s the song. My partner, Dakota McDaniel, produced most of the record. It’s such a natural working. … It’s been so easy getting to the right final form of the song with Dakota and I’m really thankful that that worked out. For the record, we were listening to Big Thief and Buck Meek and Jake Xerxes Fussell. Jake was a huge inspiration with the instrumentation we used. It was a very steel-heavy approach.
I can hear that for sure.
It’s called Cruel Joke. What do people need to know about this album from your perspective?
I think from the beginning, with any of my music in general, I just don’t want people to feel alone in anything. I am a real deep feeler, so sometimes I feel like it’s just the tip of the iceberg with sad songs in the mainstream. I feel like they’re not as sad as they could be. I try to make people not feel so alone in those really deep feelings, just because I’ve kind of had to feel that.
Your songs definitely cut pretty deep, emotionally. Have you always been the type of person to root around inside yourself and stir things up?
Oh, yeah. Yes. I grew up very quickly and I had a lot of adult-sized feelings as a kid that I didn’t really know how to deal with. And dealing with these unresolved childhood feelings later on is not for the weak. I feel like everyone goes through it, and I’ve really always tried to stay in touch with just how I’m feeling, or what goes on in my head. Songwriting is how I feel like I do that.
You’ve had some big things happening, like with Twisters and being on the road with John Moreland. How do you feel about today’s appetite for the music you make? Are we ready for another folk revival?
That’s a great question. I really think we are in for a new wave of music, just because I feel like going country is as popular as anything right now. Everybody is going country, which can be a little disheartening. It’s not super genuine on some fronts, but I’m really excited for people to explore the genre and I hope people who explore the genre take a deep dive on where it comes from and who were the pioneers, because it has so much history. I feel like country and bluegrass and folk music have so much history.
I read that you wrote one of these songs at 13, right? Does it still speak to you or still feel true?
Yeah, totally. It’s “Grey Skies.” I remember that being the first song I was ever proud of and I think that’s really special to have still around. Even though I might get tired of it, I have to remember my 13-year-old self was proud of it. But yeah, that was also the first time I feel like I really found “my thing” with writing. I included a lot of imagery with nature and animals and that was the first time I was like, “Maybe this is kind of my vein.”
Tell me about “Wolf in Sheep’s Clothes.” This one is a love song, but which person is the hidden wolf?
Oh, gosh. … Everyone laughs, because I say it’s a love song and then it’s called “Wolf in Sheep’s Clothes.” So it’s kind of like, “Well, is it?” But it definitely is. The person I’m writing to is a protector of some sorts, can see through all of the bullshit in the world that maybe I can’t see sometimes, and has my best interest. Whenever this wolf, whoever or whatever it may be, when the dark parts of life come around, this person can kind of clear through it and say, “You’re just a dog. Just get out of here, shoo.”
That’s interesting. How about “Coyote” with John Moreland? You guys toured together and I love the idea of looking at yourself like a coyote, sort of scared of the world. Why do you feel that?
I actually asked John to be a part of this before we started touring together and it was a huge deal for me, because I’ve been a fan of him for so long. I went out on a limb and texted him like, “Hey, I have this song and totally chill if you don’t want to do it, but I figured I would just stick my arm out and ask if you wanted to be a part of it?” And I think that he just said, “Yeah.” And I was like, “Okay, cool.” So that was a really cool thing.
That song was– so, my mamaw gave me the name [ᎤᏍᏗ ᏀᏯ ᏓᎶᏂᎨ ᎤᏍᏗᎦ], which means Little Wolf, but she called me Coyote. That was a big thing, because coyotes are not the greatest omen at all. They’re kind of like the trickster. So I grew up a little bit and remembered that that was my nickname and I was not happy with myself at that point. I think it was two or three years ago. I was just like, “Man, I need to do something different, because this is not who I want to start being or get on this path. I just don’t feel comfortable in my skin.” So I wrote a song. I wrote the song “Coyote” kind of being all right that I can be the coyote and also be the person I wanted to be.
Did it help?
Yeah, absolutely. I think so.
That’s good. How about “Cicadas.” This is one of the most energetic songs, in my opinion, and it’s got this line in there about the cicadas crying out to you. Why were they crying to you?
“Cicadas” was actually the first song that we recorded when we started the record. We weren’t even sure if we were going to do a record, but after that song, [we knew]. It was such an experience, because the ending of the song, when it kind of goes back and forth, that was a total accident. I did not mean to do that, but beautiful things kept happening in this song just completely by accident, so it was a really great sign of reassurance that we were doing something in the right direction. I was so, so worried. I had been working on my music for a bit, and I was like, “Man, I really hope this is the one.” … I wrote that song as I was about to turn 20 years old, and cicadas were always a constant in my childhood. That was one of the only constants that I just knew 100 percent they were going to be there every summer. And I wanted a reminder of that a little bit, just to maybe prove to myself, that there was something stable.
“Innocent Eyes” is such a beautiful track about, I guess, looking back on life with clarity. When you look back, what does the story look like?
Yeah, so “Innocent Eyes” is totally about taking off the rose-colored glasses. Looking back at some of the things you had gone through growing up, or even looking at your parents in a different way. Growing up, it’s really difficult to just see parents as people. “Innocent Eyes” is when you’re a kid, you think your parents can do no wrong and they’re there for you and that they want everything the best for you. And then you grow up and you realize they’re just people. They’re just people that had a kid. And in my case, I was a complete accident and kind of a product of something very quick, and so I was not necessarily meant to be here. And the two people that brought me here did not love each other whatsoever. And so I looked back at that wondering how that shaped me a little bit. And I think that’s where the song started.
Gillian Welch and David Rawlings – one of the most beloved modern duos in bluegrass and Americana – brought music from their GRAMMY Award winning album, Woodland (2024), to The Late Show with Stephen Colbert earlier this month, performing “Empty Trainload of Sky” live on television. They also performed one of their classic tracks, “Look at Miss Ohio,” a song from Welch’s seminal 2003 project, Soul Journey, for a web-exclusive video. Watch both performances, which feature Punch Brothers and Hawktail bassist Paul Kowert backing up the pair, right here on BGS.
Welch and Rawlings are currently in the middle of a 30+ date headlining tour, with two concerts set for Nashville’s Ryman Auditorium, the Mother Church of country music, on May 22 and May 23. Earlier this month, coinciding with their appearance on The Late Show, they also appeared for two nights at Carnegie Hall before continuing along the East Coast. In June, they’ll be heading out West and concluding their run in the Pacific Northwest.
Between them, they’ve racked up endless awards and accolades, including 14 GRAMMY nominations and five GRAMMY wins collectively. In 2015, they were honored by the Americana Music Association with a Lifetime Achievement Award for Songwriting. But it’s not these well-deserved recognitions, their millions of streams and sales, or even their fantastic contributions to films like O Brother, Where Art Thou? and The Ballad of Buster Scruggs that will be their crowning achievements. Instead, it’s the nearly universal love, admiration, and respect they receive from within and outside the American roots music community that best showcases their far-reaching impact.
That and, of course, the incredible body of work they’ve fashioned together. Whether the timeless and twenty-year-old staples like “Look at Miss Ohio” or the blustery and destructive new work, “Empty Trainload of Sky,” Welch & Rawlings continue to gift us all songs that will stand the test of time – and that we each carry with us wherever we go.
Ismay arrives in Austin, Texas to dig through the Collections Deposit Library at the University of Texas in order to understand the life of Lucinda Williams’ father, Miller. A poet and teacher, Miller Williams overcame setbacks to become a prominent writer. Ismay discovers his personal writings, letters, and photographs, highlighting his mentorship and the artistic community that shaped Lucinda’s career.
Produced in partnership with BGS and distributed through the BGS Podcast Network, Finding Lucinda expands on the themes of Ismay’s eponymous documentary film, exploring artistic influence, creative resilience, and the impact of Williams’ music. New episodes are released twice a month. Listen right here on BGS or wherever you get podcasts.
Finding Lucinda, the documentary film that inspired and instigated the podcast, is slated for release in the fall. Both the film and podcast showcase never-before-heard archival material, intimate conversations, and a visual journey through the literal and figurative landscapes that molded Lucinda’s songwriting.
Credits: Produced and mixed by Avery Hellman for Neanderthal Records, LLC. Music by Ismay. Artwork by Avery Hellman. With recordings from The Collections Deposit Library at UT Austin, and records from The Harry Ransom Center. Sound recordist: Rodrigo Nino Producer: Liz McBee Director: Joel Fendelman Co-Director: Rose Bush “The Caterpillar” and “Of History and Hope” appear courtesy of Rebecca Jordan Williams. Special thanks to: Mick Hellman, Chuck Prophet, Jonathan McHugh, Jacqueline Sabec, Lucinda Williams, and Tom Overby.
Find more information on Finding Lucinda here. Find our full Finding Lucinda episode archive here.
Today’s guest on Only Vans is one of my bestest friends in the whole world, Mr. “Wear My Ring” himself, the one and only Bart Crow! We talk about everything from sales tax and pranks to parenthood and career trajectories.
I want to tell you about how much I absolutely adore my friend Bart Crow, but since I don’t have two hours, you’ll pick up on it throughout the podcast. From Maypearl, Texas, Mr. “Wear My Ring” is as cool as he sounds – and dresses. Seriously, Bart always looks great. Shout out to the wifey for some of that, I’m sure.
We talk a lot about Bart’s new EP, Hey Pretty Thing, which was recorded at the studio of Gordy Quist from the Band of Heathens called The Finishing School. The “Nick” we refer to here as the EP producer is the one and only Nick Jay. I love the insight on recording a full-length album versus an EP. I’ve really wanted to dive into that and Bart was the perfect person for that conversation and much more – like not traveling with a band trailer or your own sound person!
We talk about the old days of touring and how it’s okay to play less and make more, even though that’s still a giant mind-shift for us both. I am glad that at the end we summarize we are very happy with our careers, but Bart always wants more in his career just like I do, which is probably why we are such great friends. Don’t take it too hard if a record doesn’t catapult you into superstar fame. You can still have a long, fantastic career and become best buds with someone that’s your hero, like me with Bart.
Oh! And if you don’t know like I didn’t know (but pretended to), Bryce Harper is a baseball player for the Phillies.
I’ve been enamored by the West since I first set a dusty boot down in Marathon, Texas – a town that would be my spiritual hometown, if such things existed.
I made my last record, Marathon, with my incredibly talented friend Davis Naish in a tiny adobe house in that little town. For the new record, we camped out in his Los Angeles studio, so I figured, “Hey, let me put together a playlist that I think captures the way I feel about the vast stretch of land that lies between Marathon and LA.” Road trip! – Drew Kennedy
“Desperados Waiting For A Train” – Guy Clark
Guy was born in Monahans, Texas, not too far from Marathon, so this feels like a natural starting point. To me, there are few artists who are able to capture the spirit of Far West Texas like Guy Clark. With equal parts romance, unflinching honesty, and those trademark turns of phrase that make him a hero to songwriters who know, Guy can always make me feel like I’m standing beside him in the little movies that are his songs.
“Levelland” – James McMurtry
If you trekked due north and just a little east out of Monahans, eventually those sand hills and mesas play out into plains so flat and wide open it can make the uninitiated feel uncomfortable. A friend once told me a buddy of his said he didn’t like it because “there was no place to hide.” From what or whom didn’t matter. You’re just out there, totally exposed–the only thing breaking the perfect line between land and sky. Those McMurtrys sure know how to tell a good story. Anyway, if we kept going north we’d be getting farther away from California, so let’s hang a left.
“Watch It Shine” – Walt Wilkins
Walt Wilkins is another songwriting hero and I’m lucky to call him a friend, as well. The Poet Laureate of the Hill Country teams up with Owen Temple to take you on a ride following the Rio Grande as it snakes south from Taos towards Santa Fe. It also features one of my favorite lines I’ve ever heard in a song: “They say there’s iron in these mountains, and in bone and skin and mud/ They say that iron only comes from stars, so stars are in my blood.” Goosebumps every time.
“Low Sun” – Hermanos Gutiérrez
Put a ranch water in my hand, fire up this album, and cue a good sunset. The only three ingredients I need to find my favorite places inside my mind no matter where on earth I am. Doubly effective if I’m already in one of my favorite places.
“Don’t Worry” – Marty Robbins (single, 1961)
We’re getting out into the type of landscape most people who’ve never visited the desert picture in their heads when someone mentions it. Saguaros, red rocks. We’re well beyond El Paso now, so we’ll go with this beauty from Marty Robbins. Yes, that is the coolest guitar solo of all time. I’ve heard several different stories about how they got that sound, but however they came by that tone, hell yeah.
“Willin'” – Little Feat
We’ve covered a lot of ground… maybe we’re dragging a little bit after all of those miles. The boys in Little Feat know how we feel, and they’ve got our back.
“Queen of California” – John Mayer
Now that we’re pulling into town we need something we can nod along to with our Wayfarers on and our hair blowing in the sweet California breeze, as we take in the sights. This song is a badass way to kick off a record, too.
“Beautiful World” – Colin Hay
I mean, when we get there one of the first things we’re gonna do is jump into the Pacific, right? I love that Colin Hay sounds like Colin Hay and nobody else and man, do I love the way he writes a song.
“It Never Rains In Southern California” – Trent Summar & The New Row Mob
I love their version of this song. It’s not all sunshine and roses out there, you know.
“California Poppy” – Theo Lawrence
I was shocked when I found out this guy was from France. Sometimes people in Texas are shocked when they find out I’m from Pennsylvania. Point is, if it’s in you, it’s in you. I would believe it if you told me the ghosts of Buck Owens and Don Rich were sprinkling a little of that Bakersfield dust around the studio the day they laid this one down.
“Mama Told Me Not To Come” – Randy Newman
I’ve aged out of today’s version of this kind of party, but that doesn’t mean I don’t expect to see some unexpected things whenever I’m out in LA. Another one-of-one, Randy Newman.
“Texas Time” – Explorer Tapes
And with that, let’s turn this big baby blue Cadillac convertible around and head back home. I assume that’s the kind of ride we’d want for this road trip. Thanks for tagging along.
Growing up in Oklahoma, Choctaw singer-songwriter Samantha Crain found solace and calm in mid-20th-century film noir, Westerns, and Broderbund Software, Inc.’s cult Where in the World Is Carmen Sandiego? media franchise. Along the way, she developed a soft spot for the vernacular term for a private detective, “gumshoe.”
“I’d always write it in my notebooks, thinking I’d use it one day,” she says.
During her teenage years, Crain taught herself how to play guitar and began writing songs before embarking on a lifestyle on the road as a singer-songwriter, performer, and recording artist as she entered adulthood. Over the last seventeen years, she’s released seven albums and a bevy of EPs, singles, and collaborations, while evading any sense of hard stylistic classification. “Honestly, I don’t know that I have a lot of understanding of genre,” she explains. “I write the songs and then I think about what will serve them best.”
When she was in the early stages of writing her recently released seventh album, Gumshoe, Crain watched American film director John Huston’s storied 1941 mystery thriller, The Maltese Falcon. Afterwards, when she was scribbling down some ideas, she found herself returning to Humphrey Bogart’s portrayal of Sam Spade. “He’s the quintessential, emotionally detached private investigator,” she says. “I can see a lot of that personality in myself.”
From there, Crain felt compelled to write a song about two people with that disposition falling in love. “I immediately thought, maybe this is where I finally get to use gumshoe,” she says. “It became a song about the mystery of trying to solve interpersonal relationships.” Rendered through a dreamy concoction of guitar, percussion, strings, eerie sound design, and her yearning tones, that fact-meets-fiction scenario became the titular track on Crain’s new album.
From using the dragonfly as a metaphor for flexibility and resilience (“Dragonfly”) to exploring her relationship with the natural world (“B-Attitudes”) and revisiting memories that still haunt her, Gumshoe reveals itself as a mercurial blend of alt-country, Americana, breezy psychedelic rock, and close, bedsit folk. It’s one of those records that feels perfectly designed for the introspection of late-night drives, solo walks, or wherever else you find your moments of reflection.
Co-produced with Brine Webb and Taylor Johnson at Lunar Manor Recording Studio in Oklahoma City, the album documents a period of profound transformation within Crain’s personal life and how she relates to those closest to her. In late April, BGS spoke with Samantha Crain about all of the above and more.
How are you doing?
Samantha Crain: Good, yeah. The town I live in has a big free music festival going on right now. It’s always interesting maneuvering your way around town when it’s happening. I’ve spent my morning trying to get things done. This happens every year. I should really know better by now.
To paraphrase the late, great Sharon Jones, some of us have to learn the hard way.
Yeah. That’s probably a good example of most things in my life.
Do you have a philosophical stance that underpins what you do as a songwriter?
I don’t think of what I do as a songwriter as being separate from how I live my life. I’ve spent so much of my life being a lone wolf, very hyper-independent. Lately, I’ve started to explore the ideas of vulnerability and reciprocity within my personal relationships with my friends and family members. I’m trying to embody that there is no “is” and we can change by the minute.
In my ancestor’s language, the Choctaw language, there are no words for “is” or “are.” That speaks to their value. You can’t ever describe anything with certainty. You can only pair something with descriptors that describe it as it appears in a moment. Living in a less defined way feels more mentally and spiritually sustainable. It’s also more sustainable for me as an artist to embody that flexibility and impermanence.
At this point, you’ve been a musician for over half your life, right?
Yeah. Honestly, I have a pretty poor memory of growing up. I’ve got a bad memory in general. I don’t remember much about my life apart from what I’m doing currently.
Lately, I’ve been thinking a bit more about the relationship between someone’s lifestyle and the music they make.
Sometimes I’m very aware that even if I didn’t have this desire and ability to write songs and make records, I’d probably still be living pretty close to how I am now. I have this very deep curiosity in me to experience as much of life as possible while I’m still on this mortal coil. I don’t know that everybody has that same curiosity or desire, and that’s completely fine. I just think I’m lucky to have an outlet and an instigator to justify how I go about living through music and songwriting.
When you think about making Gumshoe, what are some of the first experiences that come to mind?
The first memory I have from this album is having to set an alarm really early in the morning, so I could have quiet time alone and try to be a lightning rod for whatever was awaiting me. I did that every morning for three or four months to make sure I could get the active writing part in. I remember sitting at the kitchen table in the wee hours of the morning with my iPad and my guitar, trying to make demos and get these songs out.
At the same time, I was working forty hours a week at another job and dealing with all these stressful things that kept happening. I’m still slightly surprised that I was even able to make this album, because over the last two or three years of my life, I’ve had a lot of really difficult things going on. I’ve been dealing with health, interpersonal relationships and family stuff. Amidst all that, I had to find a way to answer the call of active writing time, which felt impossible.
I always get fairly offended whenever it’s been a year or two between records and people want to talk about how long it’s been since I’ve had a record. It’s like, “Excuse me, I’ve just been living my life.” I don’t know what to tell you. It hasn’t felt that long to me. I’ve felt like everything is moving right on time.
There can be a level of cross-cultural confusion around what time even means.
Western societies run on capitalism’s watch. What good are you to those societies if you’re not producing something? It’s just not a value I have in my life, so I find it hard to match that energy.
I like that you made the distinction around active writing time earlier. You’ve got to have space for yourself as well. You can’t give everything away.
Not only can you not give everything away, but you can’t constantly be in bloom. Flowers are not constantly in bloom; there’s a good reason for that. There’s energy that has to be sustained through the seasons of life. If you can’t close up and protect that periodically, you’re never going to make anything for anyone else or yourself.
Can you talk a bit more about what you were exploring across the album?
The songs I was writing were me trying to wrap my head around what it means to be in really close relationships with people. This was something I hadn’t really let myself do before. I thought it would be really strange if I wrote all these songs about how I’m trying to get better at connecting, or allowing myself to be vulnerable with other people, and then I went and made it how I usually make records – which is a lot of single tracking, or people that are isolated in their own booths. That led us to all recording together in one big live room. That also led me to bring co-producers in, rather than being the main driver of all the ideas. It was really important for me to have the experience of being able to lean on other people. I just felt like I needed to match what was going on with me personally with the recording process as well.
After listening to the album and talking to you, it sounds like you’ve had a heavy few years.
Nobody can tell you about these experiences ahead of time. There are things you have to live through to understand. You can’t tell an eighteen-year-old that their sense of invincibility is an illusion. You can’t talk someone into having that knowledge. It’s just something they have to live long enough to understand.
Imagine how paralyzing it would be to understand these things at a young age?
I think if I’d had a full idea of what this life path – being a singer-songwriter and musician – would look like at the age I started, I don’t know if I would have done it. Now, I don’t regret any of it. I still wake up every day and choose to keep doing this because I love it, but I think the naivety, greenness, and blind confidence of younger people is a massive help in pushing us off in any sort of direction at all.
What do you think have been the significant turning points in your journey through all of this?
There’s an experience I’ve had that happened many times over the last twenty years. As an artist, you get to a point where you have a set of people helping you: labels, booking agents, managers, etc. Inevitably, people end up moving in a different direction. Every time somebody like that has to leave my circle, I feel like I’m being abandoned in some way. What has always somehow happened afterwards is that I’ve always been able to link up with someone else who helps me keep carrying on.
I am forever in awe of that pattern of feeling that I am in the right place, doing the right thing. I don’t just mean this with business people. I really mean this in life as well. A lot of times, the people who end up helping me in my journey as a songwriter and a musician also play a huge part in my life as friends, mentors or things like that. It really gives me a sense of comfort and trust in myself. If you’ve run out of gas and you’re on the side of the interstate with your thumb out, someone is going to come and help you quicker if you have a smile on your face and a positive attitude about it all.
Some people evoke the idea that you shouldn’t go into business without already having an exit strategy in place. Obviously, not many of them are musicians.
I never have an exit strategy. I’m just forced into the next thing.
It’s worth noting that in recent years you’ve been working on film and television soundtrack projects, such as scoring for Fancy Dance and Winding Path.
When you’re working in film and television, the amount of collaboration you have to do is so intense. It’s beyond any level of collaboration I’ve ever done with my own records. A big portion of making my records occurs in solitude. When you’re scoring films, the number of people you have to pass ideas through, or get the OK from, is massive.
Also, all the films I’ve scored for are about community and family in a way. They’re about connection and reciprocity. So far, they haven’t been about the lone wolf character, which I find good. If my first dip into scoring films had been for a detached, lone wolf character nobody understands, I think I could have gotten a bit too emo for my own good. So, I think it’s good that the projects I’ve been brought into so far have been more about connection.
What does it mean to come from Oklahoma at this point in your journey?
It is to exist somewhere you both can’t live without and can’t wait to return to. At the same time, you want to get as far away from it as possible. That dichotomy is the thing that got me on the road as a young person. I don’t want to only understand this one existence, but it’s also one of the only places where I feel like I make sense. If I were going to grow out of the ground somewhere, this is the only place I could envision myself sprouting out of. Unfortunately, being here reminds me of how hard it has become to be in nature. When I say, be in nature, I don’t mean trying to connect with something outside of myself. I feel like I’m a part of the planet’s ecosystem.
Growing up, I spent a lot of time in southeastern Oklahoma, in the Kayami Street River Valley with my cousins. Even as kids, we were living in a respectful communion. We knew if you saw a diamondback rattlesnake, you don’t mess with that rattlesnake. We were taught to walk softly through the forest and disrupt as little as possible, because we were passing through. I’m still in those same physical spaces, but as I’ve gotten older, knowing I’m becoming more and more disconnected from the natural world feels really strange. I haven’t thought about this much, but maybe this is why I feel this pull to remain here. Maybe it is because I haven’t resolved that, or gotten back to a place that feels right in that aspect of my life.
It sounds like there’s a bigger set of questions at work here. I will say this, though: there’s not much that’s more grounding than walking barefoot on the grass or dirt.
It is. I do it every weekend when I do Tai Chi at the park across from my house.
You Gotta Hear This! It’s another excellent roundup of track and video premieres plus new music arriving on digital “store shelves” today. There’s bluegrass, folk, Americana, and more.
Kicking us off, Kentucky’s Bibelhauser Brothers enlist their hero and friend Sam Bush on their rendition of “One Tin Soldier,” from their upcoming album, Down The Road. As an added bonus, Aaron Bibelhauser and Sam Bush had a nearly hour-long chat about the track, too – you can find and watch that video below. Also in a bluegrass space, Irish ‘grasser Danny Burns offers his cover of “Brother Wind,” a modern classic written by Tim O’Brien. Dan Tyminski joins Burns on the track, which does O’Brien and Darrell Scott’s versions of the song justice, for sure.
Alt- and indie-folk outfit JOSEPH return with new music, bringing us a video for their new track, “Bye and Bye,” borrowing a classic and often ecclesiastical line to explore growth, loss, and the drawn out transformations life brings each of us – while tipping their hat to a bar by the same name. You can also hear Appalachian mountain music duo the Wildmans perform “Autumn 1941,” a song co-written by Berklee’s Mark Simos and Roger Brown that touches on the harrowing reality of eugenics in the mountains of the Southeast.
East Nashville’s favorite band of lovable bluegrass delinquents, East Nash Grass, released a new single earlier this week, too! Don’t miss the excellent and lovely “Followin’ You,” written by ENG guitarist James Kee and new Travelin’ McCourys fiddler Christian Ward especially for Maddie Denton to sing. Plus, Nick Dumas is readying a bluegrass album, offering our readers a peek at a new video for “Where Have You Been,” a song about how sometimes folks you love “go away” without actually leaving.
There’s still more fantastic roots music, though! Award-winning fiddling phenoms Deanie Richardson and Kimber Ludiker are teaming up on a twin-fiddle album coming soon from Mountain Home Music Company; you can hear “Cacklin’ Hen,” the first offering from that project, below. And, wrapping us up this week, Jessica Willis Fisher went into the studio with Bryan Sutton playing guitar and mandolin to record the heartfelt and touching, “Seeds,” a country/Americana flavored track about interrupting generational cycles of pain and trauma and refusing to reap the seeds someone else may have sown in your heart and mind.
It’s quite the collection of music, and, as we say every week: You Gotta Hear This!
Bibelhauser Brothers, “One Tin Soldier” (Featuring Sam Bush)
Artist:Bibelhauser Brothers Hometown: Louisville, Kentucky Song: “One Tin Soldier” featuring Sam Bush Album:Down The Road Release Date: May 15, 2025 (single) Label: Common Loon Records
In Their Words: “Our latest collaborative effort, ‘One Tin Soldier,’ marks the first studio version of the familiar song that features Sam Bush singing and playing mandolin. The Father of Newgrass jumped right in as an honorary Bibelhauser Brother on this fourth single from our forthcoming album, Down The Road, slated for release this October. (I actually had a candid, nearly hour-long conversation with Sam on video to chat about the track – check that out here.) With his help, we’ve made an honest attempt to frame this song as a missing link in ‘newgrass’ history, connecting the dots between some larger-than-life personalities quintessential to the evolution of the bluegrass world. Much like many of our heroes, we’d like to keep the traditional torch burning bright, while igniting our own flame, fusing elements of blues, country-rock, and soul with our primordial bluegrass sensibilities.” – Aaron Bibelhauser
Track Credits: Sam Bush – Mandolin, vocal Adam Bibelhauser – Vocal, bass Aaron Bibelhauser – Vocal, guitar Steve Cooley – Banjo Jeff Guernsey – Fiddle
Danny Burns, “Brother Wind” (Featuring Dan Tyminski)
Artist:Danny Burns Hometown: Donegal, Ireland Song: “Brother Wind” featuring Dan Tyminski Album:Southern Sky Release Date: May 16, 2025 (single); August 22, 2025 (album) Label: Bonfire Recording Co.
In Their Words: “I first discovered ‘Brother Wind’ on the Transatlantic Sessions on BBC many moons ago. I’ve had the great pleasure of knowing Tim O’Brien and working with him — he was one of my very first collaborators in Nashville when we cut a few songs at John Prine and Ferg’s Butcher Shoppe [studio]. I asked him about ‘Brother Wind’ and he said, ‘Yeah, you should cut it.’ So, we did — tried to stay true to his original version while adding something new. Having Dan T. come in and sing on it brought it to another level of cool.” – Danny Burns
Track Credits: Danny Burns – Vocals, guitars Dan Tyminski – Vocals Ethan Burkhardt – Upright bass Billy Contreras – Fiddle Matt Menefee – Banjo, mandolin Cody Kilby – Guitars Jerry Roe – Drums
Video Credit: Shot by Ryan Kay at the Station Inn, Nashville, Tennessee.
Nick Dumas, “Where Have You Been”
Artist:Nick Dumas Hometown: Sturgeon Bay, Wisconsin Song: “Where Have You Been” Album:Where Have You Been Release Date: May 16, 2025 Label: Skyline Records
In Their Words: “Everyone has been in that place – where someone close to you just isn’t there like they used to be, even if they haven’t gone anywhere. This song really struck me because of how real and universal that feeling is. And when Jim Van Cleve came in to mix it, he completely brought out the emotional tension in a way that blew me away. There’s this haunting, almost cinematic atmosphere that he created in the mix – it’s ominous, raw, and it elevates the story in a way that made me hear the song differently. It gave the whole track this weight, like you’re walking through fog trying to find someone.” – Nick Dumas
Artist:East Nash Grass Hometown: Madison, Tennessee Song: “Followin’ You” Album:All God’s Children Release Date: May 13, 2025 (single); August 22, 2025 (album) Label: Mountain Fever
In Their Words: “East Nash Grass was touring Ireland the first time I heard the demo recording of ‘Followin’ You,’ which I was told that our guitar player, James Kee, and our good songwriting pal and fiddler, Christian Ward, had written for me to sing on our upcoming record, All God’s Children. We were on the way to our next gig, driving through scenery too incredible to describe, and I was enchanted by an iPhone recording of Christian playing the guitar and singing this new song. The chorus is simple: following you. That’s all. And right there, in the beauty of simplicity, I understood that we had all been brought together to make this music to share, not because someone told us to or because of any hidden agenda; but purely because there was no other option for us.” – Maddie Denton
Track Credits: Harry Clark – Mandolin James Kee – Guitar Jeff Partin – Bass Maddie Denton – Fiddle Cory Walker – Banjo Gaven Largent – Dobro
JOSEPH, “Bye and Bye”
Artist:JOSEPH Hometown: Portland, Oregon Song: “Bye and Bye” Release Date: May 16, 2025 Label: Nettwerk Music Group
In Their Words: “This song is about being a woman in her late thirties with none of the results she expected from the plans she made – no husband, no house, no kids, no religion. The start of the song came one night when I was getting dinner with my then-girlfriend Talia at a bar called the Bye and Bye on Alberta St. in Portland. Our sister Allie had just quit the band, I was about a year past my divorce, I had a hunch the relationship I was in couldn’t keep going in its current form. I told Talia, ‘I feel like, in a way, I just died. Like everything I am – every bit of identity I’ve had – is over.’ I started crying in the way that isn’t tidy so I ran to the bathroom and let the tears rip. It had been a rough few days and as I sat on the toilet lid bawling I opened my notes app and typed ‘Crying in the bathroom of the Bye and Bye/ Saturday’s mascara in my eye/ it’s Tuesday.’” — Natalie Closner
Artist:Deanie Richardson & Kimber Ludiker Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee; Silver Spring, Maryland Song: “Cacklin’ Hen” Release Date: May 16, 2025 Label: Mountain Home Music Company
In Their Words: “I’ve been a Kimber Ludiker fan for many, many years now since I heard her play at the Grand Master’s Fiddler contest. I was a judge that year and she completely blew me away. I think Kimber is one of the most tasteful, versatile fiddlers that we have in bluegrass music today and the work she’s done with Della Mae speaks volumes for her integrity and her talent. Kimber and I have been talking about doing a twin fiddle record for at least three years now and we’re so glad that we found a home and so glad that we found a place to record this record. Mountain Home has been so generous and good to me and allowed Kimber and I the space to come record this twin fiddle record. And we took it back-old school — just twin fiddles through the whole thing and we’re super excited for you guys to hear some fun music.” – Deanie Richardson
“Deanie Richardson has long been one of my favorite fiddlers and has always been my favorite to play with. We’ve been dreaming about a twin fiddle record for years and Mountain Home is the perfect label to share our excitement and vision. With our bands Della Mae and Sister Sadie, we’ve both had a long commitment to showcase and create a platform for women in this music, and we’re excited to add our fiddling to the canon of tunes in our music. I especially hope young girls will be excited to have more and more recordings of instrumentals played by women to inspire their learning.” – Kimber Ludiker
Artist:The Wildmans Hometown: Floyd, Virginia Song: “Autumn 1941” Album:Longtime Friend Release Date: July 11, 2025 Label: New West Records
In Their Words: “‘Autumn 1941’ is a song Roger Brown, former Berklee College of Music President, co-wrote with Berklee songwriting professor Mark Simos. Mark has written for Alison Krauss, the Infamous Stringdusters, and Del McCoury. Del recently released the other song in this series titled ‘Working for the WPA.’ The ‘Autumn 1941’ story hails from Roger’s North Carolina Appalachian roots, it was passed down through his family and while some of the specifics remain unknown, different versions of this story of eugenics prove to be true across Appalachian regions and more largely other minorities throughout American early-mid 20th century history. Stories of this same movement took place in Virginia and communities like Floyd, our hometown. Once we got into the studio with this song, it just flowed and out of it came a haunting authenticity we hadn’t yet discovered in our music.” – The Wildmans
Jessica Willis Fisher, “Seeds”
Artist:Jessica Willis Fisher Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee Song: “Seeds” Album:Blooming Release Date: May 16, 2025 Label: Bard Craft Records
In Their Words: “When we’re young, much of our life is shaped in ways we can’t control. Seeds are planted in our life and when we grow up, we can be left reaping the effects of toxic generational patterns. A big part of my life the last few years has been weeding out so many beliefs and habits that, if left to continue to grow, would choke me to death in many ways. Some days are harder than others and I still have doubts that rise up about which way to go in life, how to best move forward, how to heal from the abuse I experienced when I was younger.
“That vulnerability and honesty felt important to include on this record which centers around healing and growth.” – Jessica Willis Fisher
Kris Delmhorst is not a good sleeper. The Western Massachusetts songwriter is usually awake from 2 or 3 a.m. to about 4 or 5 a.m. Sometimes it feels nice and floaty, but other times she is wide awake worrying about anything her brain can get a hold of. This is similar to a feeling with which she ended her tenth record, Ghosts in the Garden, with the song “Something to Show.” Thankfully, she set us straight and explained that, indeed, the track is a hopeful prayer that she will have something to show for all the questioning, trying, pushing through, and general work that she and fellow humans are doing. Too bad it can’t happen in the daylight hours. In our conversation for Basic Folk, we talk about this and the other themes and songs on the new album, like the unbearable emotional density of summer ending, ambient restlessness during destruction, carrying unresolved loves, and, of course, death.
Kris experienced a great loss in 2021 with the death of her dear friend and collaborator Billy Conway. Her husband, Jeffrey Foucault, memorialized Billy in his 2024 album, The Universal Fire, which he called “a working wake” for their friend. He appeared on Basic Folk and spoke at length about Billy and what he meant to the Boston music community. I encourage you to listen to that conversation and Jeff’s record. Kris had known Billy for many decades; he produced a couple of her early albums and had been a huge presence in her life. The title track, “Ghosts in the Garden,” addresses Billy’s death, which sounds like it was a beautiful one, something that not very many people experience. He was surrounded by a houseful of friends and family celebrating and keeping him company up until the moment he passed.
There are many types of ghosts on the album: lost loves and past mistakes, roads not taken, and our possible futures, too. It was recorded in rural Maine at Great Northern Sound, which is inside an 1800s farmhouse that must keep its own ghosts. Kris, a great lover of collaboration, brings in many guest vocalists like Rose Cousins, Anaïs Mitchell, Ana Egge, Taylor Ashton, Rachel Baiman, Anna Tivel, and her husband, Jeffrey. I was surprised to learn that she had not actually planned for any guest vocalists. She made the decision, recorded some reference mixes in Maine, and listened on the drive home. She was startled to discover that she heard each guest vocalist on the track with her in the car, which prompted her to write some emails and get them all on the record. The songs want what the songs want, so you better give it to them or else… more ghosts?
Just as spring began its soft awakening here in the Northeast, Mark Erelli breathed new life into his vast catalog with the release of Live in Rockport: Mark Erelli & His String Quintet. As if his 13 solo albums, three bluegrass albums, and a considerable list of collaborations weren’t extensive enough, Erelli’s newest album forages entirely novel innovations.
With the help of longtime collaborator Zachariah Hickman (bass, vocals, arrangements), Erelli dispenses a selection of nine songs from throughout his decades-long vault of material with an imaginative twist – each has been delicately rearranged for Erelli, his guitar, and a string quintet. Recorded live in the sonically apt Shalin Liu Performance Center of Rockport, Massachusetts, the painstakingly intricate layers of strings weave a dynamic backdrop for Erelli’s potent songsmanship.
Cinematic and profound, the resulting tracklist examines these illustrious songs through new textures and colors. With deep attunement to both past iterations and new arrangements, listeners are struck by the simultaneously transient and perpetual nature of a good song.
BGS had the pleasure of chatting with Mark Erelli about the musings and process behind his newest creation.
So tell me about what the inception of this project was like – what propelled you to make a live album with a string quintet?
Mark Erelli: I’ve wanted to make a live record for years. And the question for any artist is always, “When do you do it?” If you do it too early in your career, you don’t maybe have as much experience performing live and you’re maybe not at the height of your powers. Yet, if you do it when it’s been a long time between records, it can seem almost like an afterthought. So I’ve always wanted to do it, but I’ve really struggled with the “when” of it. And then I’ve also grappled with what the format should be, because I perform in a lot of different formats, but I think my native performance format is still as a solo acoustic singer-songwriter.
I’ve thought about doing that live since I don’t have any records where it’s just me and my guitar. I’ve actually tried to professionally record live shows, but I never really captured a show that felt magical, and that’s the thing about live performance, right? It’s such an ephemeral thing, that’s the beauty of it, and that’s the frustrating thing if you’re trying to capture it. As I got further and further in my career, I realized I didn’t want to do the kind of live record that is just a snapshot of me on a normal night. I decided if I was going to do it, I wanted to make something really special and I wanted it to be a classic moment that really transforms how you think about an artist.
One of my favorite live albums is At Fillmore East by the Allman Brothers Band – it’s a high bar to measure yourself against, but I really wanted a live album that showcased my work in a new light. That’s where the string quintet came in. I had worked with strings on my most recent three records or so and I started working with strings on my covers record in 2018 called Mixtape. Strings are such a novel, fun, really amazing element to be able to work with – they’re quite the extra color to paint with, but I always had used them in the context of a band performance, tracking the strings after to support and augment the band.
I started wondering, what would it sound like if the strings just were the band? I got the chance to figure this out when I re-released my debut record on its 25th anniversary and I re-recorded one of the songs with a string quintet. That’s when I realized, “Oh yeah, this is gonna work out great, we’ve got to find a way to document this.” We made the live record shortly thereafter.
What do you think changes about the music and the material when you intentionalize the context and the sound like this?
Strings are really unique in that they can support a very wide dynamic range. For example, if you’re playing with a rock band, it’s pretty easy to get and you can only really get so quiet. The drums can only be so quiet. Electric guitars can only be so quiet. But the strings can get as loud and as percussive as stirring as a rock band. There’s this extra part of the dynamic range at the lower end of the spectrum, at the quieter end, that is not really accessible in any other kind of band format. String players are really adept at playing very quietly, because sometimes they have to provide atmosphere and/or introduce tension. But then other times they have to have this totally, totally aggressive, intense kind of energy, like with Psycho. What I love about the string quintet is that they just let me keep the full dynamic range of my music on the table, as far as what kind of songs I can play and how I deliver them, meanwhile I don’t have to sing over a drum kit.
Could you talk a little bit more about that process of arranging with the quintet? And I’m also curious about song selection – what it was like picking and choosing which songs you’d arrange?
I mean, I can’t speak specifically to the arrangement process, because that is pretty much entirely the purview of Zachariah Hickman, who wrote all the arrangements. I’ve worked with Zach basically on every project I’ve done since 2008 in some capacity. He’s produced a lot of them. We do a lot of projects and side projects together, which is to say that we’ve built up almost 20 years of really intense, deep trust. Zach is a far more trained musician than I am and he just always knows what I want to hear or what I’m trying to strive for, even if I can’t quite verbalize it. And he wrote these string parts accordingly.
As far as which songs to do, I think some songs have a more cinematic quality to them for whatever reason, whether it’s the sweep of the imagery and lyrics or the interaction between tempo of the song and the chord changes. Some chord progressions just feel more majestic. Anytime there’s majesty and a big sweep of emotion involved, the strings are a no-brainer. The bigger challenge is to present the strings within the kind of fuller spectrum of what I can do. I didn’t want to just do a whole live record of ballads. I wanted some songs to be able to rock, and I wanted to show that the strings can rock too. “Is it Enough” and “Love Wins in the Long Run” are two songs I specifically commissioned for this record to have some rockers with strings, not just these beautiful ballads. As far as which songs to add strings to from my catalog, I feel like I’m not even done with this yet. I want more.
Yes, same here! What was it like practicing with the strings for this performance?
It’s interesting – when you have a rock band, the parts aren’t always necessarily written out. There might be specific hooks or chord changes that have to happen, but there’s a lot more freedom for improvisation in the performance. You just kind of play the songs together a few times, then you go out and you play them in front of people, and you see what happens. Oftentimes it’s very different with strings. All their parts are written out, so I’m the thing that changes every time. Zach’s bass parts are not written out either, so the two of us can kind of move together as a dynamic unit. If I move to sing something a certain way, or phrase something with a particular feel, he can match my feel and translate between what I’m doing and what the rest of the quintet is doing.
But for the most part, the form is set. If I don’t play the basic structure as their charts are written out, they’re lost and then it comes off the rails. But within the form, there’s a lot of freedom for me to phrase things a certain way. I can phrase behind the beat I can push my phrasing a little bit against how they’re voicing their parts. That’s where I think a lot of the best art comes from. Having complete freedom to create and improvise, unless you’re working with the highest, highest caliber of musicians, is just really tough. Having no rules and no parameters – it’s really hard to make that compelling, unless you’re a band of virtuosos.
To me, it’s the constraints that really let you play around with the other factors. Maybe that’s the scientist in me talking. Everything can change. Something has to stay the same. In the case of these string quintet shows, the structure of the song is the same every time, but the way that you color in those lines – there’s almost endless variations to play with.
I’m curious how your relationship to these songs has evolved throughout the years and then specifically within the creation of this record. How will this process inspire your artistry moving forward?
The first song on Live in Rockport is the last song from my most recent studio record. Then towards the end of the live record is the song “Northern Star,” which is from my debut that I re-recorded 25 years later. So there’s a huge spread there. It tends to be mostly focused on stuff from the last 10 years or so, but having that early song there has helped me see more of a through line within my body of work that I previously was less aware of.
I think of my catalog as falling into either side of a particular line, and that line being parenthood—or at least when I started to really think seriously about becoming a parent. The art that I made before I was a parent, or before I started considering it, that all feels sort of separate from the art I make now. Sometimes it’s been hard for me to relate to the kid that made that work and the kind of man that I am now that’s been changed in so many ways by all that new love in my life – not just marriage, but family. So to reach back across that dividing line and to take a song like “Northern Star” and treat it the same way that we’re treating some of these newer songs and have it come alive so vibrantly really made me think, “Okay, well maybe that was the same person all along.”
I was just growing all along. So in some strange way, the strings have helped me kind of reconnect with some of my earlier material when I would have never thought to even dream of having a string quintet on my records – I wouldn’t have had any idea how to do that. And if you’d asked me if the songs would support it or if it was appropriate for the songs, I would have said, “I don’t think so. “Hearing all the songs side by side like this from such a long period of time has made me connect with the fact that maybe I’ve always been the same kind of artist that I am now and it just took me a while to grow into that realization.
I think when the audience is hearing me with the strings, it can be pretty revelatory – they’re really learning new things about me as an artist. And when I’m on stage performing with the strings, I’m learning new things about myself in real time, too. To me, that’s the beautiful thing that made working with the strings just so amazing – it really was a growth opportunity all around, just like anytime you do something that affords you a new perspective, or a new appreciation of a particular dimension of what you do. You just can’t help but be a better artist on the other side of that. I have a lot to be grateful for, as far as the different configurations that I’ve been able to work with. And this, right now – this is one of my absolute favorites.
Photo Credit: Bri Gately
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