If You Love Boygenius, You’ll Love These 18 Folk Bands

Can’t get enough of the record by boygenius? We understand and empathize. Did your ears perk up immediately when you heard the twinkle of the banjo on “Cool About It?” Do you rewatch the video of Julien Baker, Lucy Dacus, and Phoebe Bridgers performing The Chicks’ “Cowboy, Take Me Away” over and over and over again? If so, this list is for you. 

It’s not hard to place boygenius within the universe of folk music and its endless variations, with their perfectly blended, nearly familial harmonies, their lyrics and song structures that are so singable, cyclical, and relatable, and the way, together, they exceed the sum of their individual parts by leaps and bound. Comparisons to other iconic supergroups – Dolly, Linda, and Emmylou’s Trio, or Crosby, Stills, Nash, & Young – illustrate further that boygenius are often a string band and always a folk group. 

We’ve collected songs from 18 other folk groups that also center female and femme friendship, slippery harmonies, and egalitarian ensemble arrangements in their music. If you adore boygenius, these acoustic bands are for you. 

(Editor’s Note: Scroll for the playlist version of this collection.)

JOSEPH

The band JOSEPH’s latest release, The Sun, is perhaps their furthest foray into pop- and indie-folk, with a sound that’s not just adjacent to “the boys” of boygenius, but often parallels the genre and aesthetic territories explored by the latter trio. These songs are rich and fully realized, from the tender and contemplative to full-bore rock and roll. Remind you of anyone? 

Rainbow Girls

We’ve loved watching this California-based group grow and expand their listenership across the country and around the world, from the Bay Area to Cayamo and beyond. Like boygenius, Rainbow Girls have quite a few joyous, smile-inducing cover videos that are wildly popular on the internet, but the group really shines while singing sad, introspective songs that still make you feel so good. 

The Wailin’ Jennys

Since their first studio album in 2004, the Wailin’ Jennys have become one of the most beloved vocal trios in bluegrass, old-time, and folk music, with a robust, devoted international fan base. Perhaps best known for their appearances on public radio, the Juno Award-winning ensemble is in a phase of part-time, infrequent touring while balancing motherhood and solo projects, too. Their cover of “Wildflowers” remains one of the most popular BGS posts in the history of the site. 

The Chicks

An important addition to this list – the aforementioned “Cowboy, Take Me Away” cover by the boys notwithstanding – the similarities between the Chicks and boygenius are many. Righteous anger, agency, and collective rebellion, flouting gender roles, “tradition,” and industry norms – the list could go on and on. But perhaps the most striking throughline between both trios are their evident prowess as instrumentalists, whether guitar, fiddle, banjo, or voice. And there’s a tambour to Phoebe and Julien’s vocals that certainly conjures the crystalline, one of a kind singing of Natalie Maines. 

Mountain Man

What would boygenius be, together or separately, without longing? Without lost or waning or fading or burning or lustful or ethereal love? Love that’s sexual and romantic and hungry, but love that’s tender, platonic, and eternal, too. Mountain Man, who describe themselves as a “trio of devoted friends,” conjure all of the above within their catalog and certainly on “Baby Where You Are,” with a vocal arrangement that could have been pulled right from the record. 

Plains

Country-folk duo Plains, a duo made up of Katie Crutchfield (Waxahatchee) and Jess Williamson, could be described, in a boygenius-centric way, as sounding like that band dragged through… well, the plains. There’s an agnostic, informal country aesthetic here that sounds just like the prairie of which they sing on “Abilene.” And, their origin story matches the boys’, as well, with Crutchfield and Williamson first admiring each other’s music before joining forces. There are far worse impetuses to start a band than mutual admiration.

I’m With Her

Does the transitive property apply to trio supergroups? Because, if I’m With Her is a band of bona fide bluegrassers playing delicious indie-folk and folk-rock, then that makes boygenius, a delicious indie-folk and folk-rock band that much closer to being bluegrass, right? Right? Okay, it’s nonsense, but genre is dead. (Long live genre!) We love how our friends in I’m With Her, Sarah Jarosz, Aoife O’Donovan, and Sara Watkins have colored outside the genre lines across their entire careers, not just in their collaborations together. Now, for a collaboration between I’m With Her and boygenius. Please.

 Trio 

While Dolly Parton, Emmylou Harris, and Linda Ronstadt collaborated on Trio and Trio II at the heights of their careers, boygenius came together as a supergroup when each of its members were on steep ascents, launching into the stratosphere. Somehow, as with Trio, the collective art boygenius has created supersedes even their heightening fame, not just as artists and musicians but as celebrities, too. These are just some of the reasons Trio comes to mind in the same train of musical thought as boygenius. Another is the “True Blue” friendships underpinning both groups.

case/lang/veirs

Our hearts, be still, because a few short days ago kd lang shared a photo on Instagram with Laura Veirs captioned: “Waiting on Mr. @nekocaseofficial to bring the love…” Whatever they’re working on, it will be must-listen and anxiously awaited! There are so many connection points between this incredible assemblage of musicians and the boys. Queerness; ethereal production; poetic lyrics; swapped lead vocals; oh-so-much text painting. If you’ve never given case/lang/veirs’ 2016 self-titled album an in-depth listen, there’s no better time. But the lead track, “Atomic Number” is an excellent audio swatch for the entire record.

Lula Wiles

Though on indefinite hiatus, Lula Wiles remains one of BGS’ favorite folk groups to emerge from the New England / northeast string band scene in the 2010s. Like boygenius, Isa Burke, Eleanor Buckland, and Mali Obamsawin each have vibrant and widely variable (while interconnected) solo careers, so despite their music making as a group being on pause, there’s a wealth of music in their combined and individual catalogs to binge your way through. We suggest starting with “Hometown,” a track that’s stuck with us since its release on What Will We Do in 2019. 

Lucius

One in the solidly pop/pop-rock category, Lucius still have dabbled often and intentionally in Americana, folk, and country, as demonstrated by this track from their latest album, Second Nature, which features their friend and tourmate Brandi Carlile and country star Sheryl Crow. It listens more similar to Phoebe Bridgers’ or Lucy Dacus’ genre aesthetics overall, but still calls on two roots musicians and vocalists, highlighting the mainstream success such cross pollinations attract.

Kate & Anna McGarrigle

Known for their iconic, self-titled 1975 album Kate & Anna McGarrigle, often referred to as the McGarrigles or the McGarrigle Sisters, epitomized the post-folk revival appetite for sincerity, authenticity, and literature in song, but their music never felt trope-ish, cheesy, or painfully earnest at the same time. Instead, its impact comes from its vulnerability and raw emotion, as in “Go Leave,” a song written by Kate for her unfaithful husband (Loudon Wainwright III). The lyrics drip with an indelible pain, reminding of Lucy, Julien, and Phoebe all, who for ours and hopefully their own benefit, often bare their entire souls in song.

Our Native Daughters

There’s a quality to boygenius’ music that reminds of church, of songs intentionally crafted for group singing and raising our voices up together. Perhaps it’s their bond as friends or their love of seamlessly blended harmonies and unisons, perhaps it’s their own histories with and upbringings in/around the church, perhaps it’s the relatability of their lyrics, but whatever it is their music begs to be joined. The same is true for Songs of Our Native Daughters, by roots music allstars Rhiannon Giddens, Leyla McCalla, Amythyst Kiah, and Allison Russell. You can hear their voices twining not only in sound, but in message and mission, and listeners can’t help but feel the urge to sing along. Music by community and for community, that centers and celebrates the friendships of those creating it. 

The Secret Sisters

 The Secret Sisters have a penchant for the macabre, the spooky, the longest shadows and the darkest nights, often sung to a gritty minor key. They highlight the classic Southern Gothic aesthetics of their Alabama homeland with a groundedness and hair-raising realism. It’s not difficult to picture them, say, wearing rhinestoned skeleton suits. This collaboration with their friend and (sometimes) producer Brandi Carlile soars, highlighting the similarities between Laura Rogers’ and Lydia (Rogers) Slagle’s and Lucy Dacus’ voices. 

Larkin Poe

Now, from which folk and acoustic group can you get the rock and roll, shredding guitar solo, writhing on the ground, leaping into the crowd, pyrotechnic, Julien Baker-sprinting-across-the-stage, grand finale level energy for which boygenius is becoming known as they tour the record? It’s that caricature of a caricature of rockism that boygenius do so well. Look no further than blues duo Larkin Poe, made up of sisters Rebecca and Megan Lovell (who, the diehard fans will remember, began their careers as a family bluegrass band). Every song on their albums or in their live sets is dialed to eleven on the face-melting meter. They skewer the performative masculinity of the genres they inhabit – just like boygenius – not by mocking, but by doing it better. And we love the genderfuckery and queerness they bring performing a lyric like “She’s a Self Made Man.” Again, just like boygenius.

The Roches

What could be more archetypically boygenius than exploring familial trauma? A gutting hook standalone, taken in this context sung by sisters Maggie, Terre, and Suzzy Roche, “Runs in the Family” is jaw-dropping. Another group lauded and adored for their releases in ‘70s and into the ‘80s. Their music runs in the family, too, with Lucy Wainwright Roche (daughter of Suzzy), who is an accomplished singer-songwriter. Keep Dacus’ “Thumbs” and the record’s “Without You Without Them” in mind as you listen.

The Burney Sisters

Fuzzy, full, and angry guitar is the sound bed for this, the title track from The Burney Sisters’ latest album, Then We’ll Talk. One of the hallmarks of boygenius’ generation of women and femme rockers is that their expressions of anger, justice, agency, and self advocacy feel real, not just like costuming for a genre that prides itself on counterculture and middle fingers literal and proverbial. When you hear women express anger in rock and roll, it doesn’t feel affected or constructed, and that’s one of the main reasons why women continue to lead – and revive – the genre.

Shook Twins

Part of the appeal of a group like boygenius, and Shook Twins as well, is the beauty in lyrics simply stating exactly what they mean. These songs are accessible, listenable, resonant, and thereby incredibly impactful. “Safe” by Portland, Oregon-based twin sisters Katelyn Shook and Laurie Shook is one of their most popular numbers – especially their acoustic version. The singer cries out to be seen, heard, and loved. A common refrain for Phoebe, Lucy, and Julien as well. 


Photo Credit: Matt Grubb

Birthplace of Country Music Museum Exhibit Salutes Women in Old-Time Music

It is immediately apparent upon stepping into a new special exhibit at the Birthplace of Country Music Museum that the contributions of women in old-time music are all-encompassing. From winning fiddle contests to writing timeless songs to working behind the scenes, women have made a mark on every corner of the old-time landscape. And they continue to do so, as evidenced by the exhibit’s title, I’ve Endured: Women in Old-Time Music.

On display through the end of 2023 inside this Bristol, Tennessee-Virginia, destination, the exhibit is rooted in history but undoubtedly feels topical. Through photos, video interviews, panels and artifacts, it tells a story that’s as relevant today as it was in the 1920s — or at any point in between. The exhibit was curated by a content team of curatorial staff and external experts led by Dr. Rene Rodgers, the museum’s head curator; a companion website enhances the narrative and will support the exhibit when it travels.

Toni Doman-Vandyke, the museum’s grant coordinator and curatorial specialist who also hosts a program on WBCM-LP Radio Bristol, the museum’s in-house radio station, observes, “Historically, women have had many challenges and have even faced restrictions on the songs they were allowed to sing. And that can also connect with early barn dance radio and record producers making decisions about what a performer — in this case, women — would look like. That can be everything from their costumes to how they’re portrayed. Their record producers really made assumptions on how an audience would perceive women. So, a woman is up there and she needs to be morally good, right? It’s the 1930s, it’s the Depression. We don’t want her singing these sad songs. Producers would often say, ‘You’re gonna sing this and it’s gonna sound this way.’ It took a long time for women to get their own voice out there.”

Erika Barker, the museum’s curatorial manager, adds, “In a lot of cases, it was men writing songs for women, and what they thought women were thinking or should be thinking, instead of women being able to write their own songs or record the songs that they had written.”

Experiencing the exhibit is fascinating if not slightly frustrating. Time and again, women were asked to adapt rather than embrace their creative identity, sometimes in a literal sense. For example, when John Lair envisioned an all-girl string band he’d call the Coon Creek Girls, he allowed fiddler player and radio star Lily May Ledford and her sister, guitarist Rosie Ledford, to keep their floral names and their Kentucky roots. However, to further feminize the group and underscore the rural origins, mandolinist Esther Koehler became “Violet” and Evelyn Lange assumed the role of “Daisy” (but first had to teach herself to play bass); their hometowns in Indiana and Ohio, respectively, were scrubbed from the story. All four women were presented as hailing from a holler in Kentucky — a completely fictional place.

Following a self-guided tour of the special exhibit, BGS spoke with Barker and Doman-Vandyke about the surprises they encountered while creating the exhibit as well as the lesser-known stories that they’re eager to share.

BGS: Since this is a topic that hasn’t often been explored, it seems that you could make this exhibit into whatever you wanted it to be. What got you the most excited about the process?

Doman-Vandyke: It’s not just names of people and dates. We really wanted to dive into those stories of women and I think we’ve done a really good job of that, really highlighting those hidden histories. And another thing we wanted to focus on was not just doing the big names. OK, we have a lot of well-known names in the exhibit of course, but we’re trying to uncover those hidden histories in those stories and people who might not have ever made it on the mainstream.

Of course, Ola Belle Reed is a huge name and a great influence in old-time music. Rhiannon Giddens, who is in the exhibit, is a huge innovator of old-time music and beyond. But in this exhibit we feature stories like Roni Stoneman’s. She has a great story where she was the only woman in a banjo contest, and she wasn’t allowed to be the winner even though she was the clear winner. All the judges said, “We can’t let a girl win this contest.” Another story that I really like in the exhibit is Sally Ann Forrester, who was the first woman to play in Bill Monroe’s band, although she was not seriously credited as being a musician because she was a woman. She was thought of by the public as just filling in for her husband, who was also a musician in Monroe’s band. And that was not the case!

Barker: One of my favorite “hidden women” in the exhibit is Dr. Katherine Jackson French, who was an early song collector. She tried to get her collection of Kentucky ballads published several years before Cecil Sharp published his famous ballad collection, but they were never published. About 110 years later, they’ve now been published. I found her story fascinating and I got invested in her while doing research for the exhibit. There are so many women like that, that were doing the work and moving the genre forward, and yet we don’t really know a lot of their names.

Doman-Vandyke: I also have to mention Elsie McWilliams as another really hidden story that spoke to me because she wrote dozens of songs for Jimmie Rodgers. Before we started doing research for this, I thought Jimmie Rodgers just wrote all his songs. I had no idea that he had someone that wrote for and with him, and yet she isn’t well-known for this achievement. In the interviews that we read, and as we uncovered information about her, she was kind of like, “I’ll just write them because he’s my brother-in-law.” She had a personal connection to Jimmie Rodgers, but she was a phenomenal piano player and songwriter. She’s actually known as one of the first women to make a career out of songwriting in country music and yet her story isn’t out there very much. Featuring these types of stories was really our goal when we all put this together.

Barker: Roba Stanley is another one that I liked that is not super well-known. She was one of the earliest women to record old-time music and is known as “The first sweetheart of country music,” but her career only lasted about a year. She even had a song called “Single Girl” that included the lyrics “Single life is a happy life! Single life is lovely! I am single and no man’s wife. And no man shall control me.” Then she got married, sold her guitar, moved, and never recorded again because her husband didn’t want her to perform publicly, which was not uncommon. But she was very successful for only having a few recordings out, and then she completely walked away from it when she got married.

Doman-Vandyke: Louise Scruggs is also a great example. She was Earl Scruggs’ wife and one of the first touring and booking managers in country music, not just old-time music. She had a huge career. Every time I’m in Nashville, I love to visit Spring Hill Cemetery because so many musicians are buried there. It’s great to just walk around and learn about history. We saw her gravestone there at the front and something that’s great about it is that all of her achievements were listed on her tombstone. And it wasn’t just, “Wife of Earl Scruggs,” which I thought was amazing.

I noticed Amythyst Kiah in a few places in the exhibit. What was it about her story that fits so well into this exhibit?

Barker: She has a special place in the heart of this museum in particular because she was a part of the original content team when the museum was being created. She lives in this area and is an alumna of East Tennessee State University’s Bluegrass, Old-Time and Country Music Studies program in the Department of Appalachian Studies. We love reconnecting with her and she’s got such a great background in this type of music, and is also Grammy-nominated and doing amazing things. She’s a great example of exactly what we’re talking about in the exhibit of women innovating and pushing boundaries with music today.

Doman-Vandyke: Getting interested in old-time music was part of her roots and now she’s still paying homage to those roots but taking it in an innovative direction. That’s another thing we feature in the exhibit – old-time music is not just this one sound that has parameters around it. Old-time music has always been innovative. It’s always been influenced by the players around it. It’s always had different influences throughout time. Many of our interviewees touched on that point. I feel it’s important to preserve roots and branches of this music, but it’s also important to innovate and adapt for modern audiences. Old-time music especially is community oriented. It’s participatory and very welcoming, and all of those factors play into its innovation, its longevity, and where it’s going and how it’s being preserved and promoted.

Barker: One of the things we wanted people to see in the exhibit is that this music has multiple influences and connections, its history is rooted in different cultural influences, and there’s a place in this music for everybody.

This is going to be a traveling exhibit. What kind of message do you hope to spread as it goes out beyond East Tennessee and Appalachia?

Barker: Highlighting the fact that women have always been a part of this music and not just in the background. They’ve been moving the music forward, they’ve been innovating. They’ve been the ones, in a lot of cases, carrying on that culture and tradition, because especially in earlier days, women were seen as the community tradition-bearers. We’re showcasing how that has continued and how they continue to innovate. We’re giving a little bit more information on some of the stories and the women that you have heard about, and also introducing people to women they’ve never heard about and looking at why they might not have heard of those women — and why they should.

Doman-Vandyke: Something I would like people to take away from the exhibit is better understanding the barriers to success that women had. Women have historically not had as many opportunities as men to be successful in their own career. So many challenges that women face are women specific issues, like pregnancy and family responsibilities. There are stories where women have gotten pregnant and they aren’t able to continue performing. This still happens today.

Barker: Even today, there’s often no daycare at a festival or concert venue, even for the performers. It’s just not set up for motherhood and it was even more challenging during the earlier days, when it was less socially acceptable for a woman to even be on stage or be in the room. If a woman was at a bar, or somewhere music is being played, a lot of times there were assumptions made about her role there, or her role in the band. It’s not usually assumed that she’s the leader of the band —often she isn’t even assumed to be a real member of the band — and it’s certainly not socially acceptable for her to bring children with her, unless they were part of the act. Some people like the Carter Family did often take their children with them and find ways to share the stage with them as part of the act. But a lot of women weren’t either able or willing to do that, so that limits where they can travel and where they can play and how often they can play.

Here’s a philosophical question for you. What surprised you the most as this was coming together?

Doman-Vandyke: What has surprised me the most is just how many challenges are still prevalent. When we were talking to all of our interviewees, they touched on that: “Hey, we’ve come a long way historically but we’re still not there yet.” Every one of our interviewees made that point really clear that we still have a long way to go, where we’re getting to equity.

Barker: I did like that they were all pretty optimistic. That was reassuring. But I think that was probably one of the things that surprised me, too. I’d like to think of a lot of these issues as being in the past, and well, maybe to some degree, they are. But they’re certainly not all in the past. Especially wage disparity. And that’s across all sectors, not just music.

Doman-Vandyke: These challenges and issues that women face that we featured in the exhibit aren’t just specific to old-time music. You could pick up the themes in this exhibit and put it into any genre of music and still have the same challenges women face, whether that’s rock ‘n’ roll, whether that’s country music. I mean, even take music out of it and women are still facing all of these issues. I hope this exhibit brings awareness to the challenges women in old-time music and adjacent genres have historically faced and also brings excitement to visitors in learning about these incredible women.


Main Image – From the Mike Seeger Collection (Series Addition of June 2011: Photographs ca. 1950—2000), #20009, Southern Folklife Collection, Wilson Library, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. Pictured, standing (L-R): Lily May Ledford, Janette Carter, Ramona Jones, Ola Belle Reed, Rose Maddox. Seated: Elizabeth Cotten. Gallery Photos – © Birthplace of Country Music; photographer: Ashli Linkous

LISTEN: Amythyst Kiah, “Chained to the Rhythm” (Katy Perry Cover)

Artist: Amythyst Kiah
Hometown: Johnson City, Tennessee
Song: “Chained to the Rhythm”
Album: Pensive Pop EP
Label: Rounder Records
Release Date: August 12, 2022

In Their Words: “I remember watching the ‘Chained to the Rhythm’ music video and being blown away by a kind of infectious, self-medicated joy within an ever-colorful dystopia. It actually inspired the poem that would later become ‘Fancy Drones (Fracture Me).’ I’ve always been fascinated by songs that you can shut your brain off to and dance, while also pointing out that something is terribly wrong. Breaking free of the cycle of mindless consumerism and incessant comparison and creating a life of meaning and some sense of purpose is a difficult task. And while the irony of a famous pop star on a major label singing and performing a song that questions the very listener that is dancing is not lost on me, we do each have to ask ourselves, ‘When will we have enough?’

“The songs on Pensive Pop were chosen before the title, before any real concept came to light. Quite simply, I chose songs that I love and wanted to see if I could keep their integrity while also matching a sound that’s authentic to me. I enjoy games and this process was like a puzzle. The common themes throughout this record address the lamenting external factors that can impede us on our journey in life and the struggle to accept and work through those challenges. Fear is at the center of all of these songs: fear of rejection, fear of change, fear of sobriety, fear of living in the present. Pensive Pop is my reinterpretation of pop/rock songs in order to bring more attention to the stories being told.” — Amythyst Kiah


Photo Credit: Sandlin Gaither

BGS Top 50 Moments: Shout & Shine

It was late 2016 when the world first learned of North Carolina’s HB2 – the “bathroom bill” – prohibiting trans folk from using bathrooms and locker rooms that aligned with their gender identity. The International Bluegrass Music Association was having its conference in Raleigh that autumn, and we at BGS were feeling restless about wanting to do something at the conference to create a safe space for marginalized artists who were already not feeling welcome at the annual event. And thus the first ever Shout & Shine was conceived and held at the Pour House in Raleigh on September 27, 2016.

In the years since its inception, Shout & Shine has taken on multiple forms – from a one-night showcase, to a day-long stage, to an ongoing editorial column and video series on the BGS homepage, Shout & Shine continues to create a dedicated space for diverse and underrepresented talent in the roots music world.

“Shout & Shine began with a simple mission, to create a space for marginalized and underrepresented folks in bluegrass to be celebrated for who they are, unencumbered by their identities,” explained Shout & Shine co-creator Justin Hiltner. “Since 2016, it’s grown into so much more but above all else, it continues to be exactly what we created it to be first and foremost: a community. Our Shout & Shine community demonstrates that these roots music genres are for everyone; they always have been and they will be in the future, too.”

Past lineups have included Amythyst Kiah, Nic Gareiss, Kaia Kater, Alice Gerrard, Jackie Venson, Lakota John, The Ebony Hillbillies, Cathy Fink & Marcy Marxer, Yasmin Williams, and many more.

You can read about the first Shout & Shine event from 2016 here and more Shout & Shine video sessions and features here.

From Ray Charles to Yola, These 12 Black Voices Command Our Attention

In recognition of Black History Month, we have compiled these 12 features from the Bluegrass Situation archives to reexamine the breadth and sheer talent that Black artists are bringing to the roots music community. For additional stories, and to hear much, much more music, check out our Black Voices page on BGS.

 

Ray Charles

The musical and cultural impact of Ray Charles is extraordinary and spans the pantheon of American popular music. He was an outstanding multi-instrumentalist (though best known for piano and alto sax), vocalist, bandleader, songwriter and composer in the non-lyrical sense. His innovations include helping craft and popularize the secularization of gospel music, now otherwise known as soul, and bringing new attention and expanded audiences to country music, which was the earliest idiom he loved and played before blues, jazz, R&B, or soul.

Though his earliest material was heavily influenced by Charles Brown and Nat “King” Cole, Charles (full name Ray Charles Robinson) quickly developed a highly stylized, immediately recognizable singing and playing approach. He became an expressive, evocative vocalist, one of the finest interpretative singers of all time, and a skilled improviser as an instrumentalist, able to deliver intense and memorable melodic statements or energetic solos while heading either small combos or large bands. Read more.


Robert Finley

 

Depending on how much attention one pays to labels, singer-songwriter Robert Finley could accurately be called both a blues and soul vocalist, even though he’s also performed plenty of gospel, and has a passionate faith that is often reflected in comments about his unlikely emergence as a national figure in his 60s.

“You can’t call it anything except the hand of God a lot of what’s happened in my life,” Finley tells BGS. “For me to be recording and performing now, to have met and established a friendship with a young white guy like Dan (the Black Keys’ Dan Auerbach), and to be in the studio now recording and singing these songs when that’s what I’ve always wanted to do all my life, well it’s just God’s hand in my life.” Read more.


Reggie Harris

The joy and hope evident in Reggie Harris’ 2021 release, On Solid Ground, stem from a rooted sense of perseverance and from his intentional decision to face each and every moment, in the moment, and to find hope within each. It’s why such heavy topics don’t feel gargantuan or burdensome as they make appearances and anchor songs on the album. Harris, watching the social, political, and racial reckonings that bubbled onto the sidewalks and streets of every city in America over the course of the last year, didn’t sit down or give up in the face of the unclimbable summit of translating that reckoning into song.

Instead, Harris draws upon the wisdom, insight, and hope given to him by his own elders and communities throughout On Solid Ground. In choosing to keep himself open in each moment, Harris found himself receiving inspiration, nuggets of ideas and stories, glimpses of songs and arrangements in so many of those moments, simply because he was there, with a still heart and still soul, to receive them. Read more.


Christone “Kingfish” Ingram

 

Christone “Kingfish” Ingram seemed to come out of nowhere with his 2019 Alligator Records debut, Kingfish. At 20 years old, the native of Clarksdale, Mississippi, emerged as a fully-formed guitarist, vocalist, and songwriter and was quickly hailed as a defining blues voice of his generation. Since then, he’s toured the nation, performed with acts ranging from alt-rockers Vampire Weekend to Americana star Jason Isbell to blues godfather Buddy Guy.

In the midst of all this success, just as his career was taking off amidst over a year of non-stop touring, he lost his mother, Princess Pride Ingram, a devastating blow that the young man had to overcome. All of this life experience is reflected on Ingram’s second album, 662, named after the area code for his North Mississippi home. Read more.


Amythyst Kiah

 

When Amythyst Kiah was a teenager in the suburbs of Chattanooga, Tennessee, she wanted to be “the guitar-playing version of Tori Amos.” Locked away in her room with her headphones pulled over her ears, pouring over liner notes and listening intently for every nuance in her favorite records, she found solace in the way Amos told her darkest secrets in her songs and how she turned that vulnerability into something like a superpower. It made her feel less alone, especially as a young, closeted Black girl in a largely white suburb. Tori Amos helped her survive adolescence.

Kiah didn’t grow up to become any version of her hero. Instead, she simply became herself. Her new solo album, Wary + Strange, ingeniously mixes blues and folk with alternative and indie rock, devising a vivid palette to soundtrack her own songs that tell dark secrets. It’s one of the most bracing albums of the year, grappling with matters both personal (her mother’s suicide) and public (the struggles of Black Americans). “Now, when I’m in my mid-thirties,” says Kiah, “it’s amazing to make a vulnerable record and then have people at my shows tell me that my music helped them heal, helped them get through some hard times. To have someone connect with my music is really powerful.” Read more.


Keb’ Mo’

Keb’ Mo’ enjoyed a career milestone as he received a Lifetime Achievement in Performance Award from the Americana Music Association in 2021. Presented at the Ryman Auditorium in Nashville, the award joins a list of distinctions that include five Grammys and 14 Blues Foundation Awards. But in typically understated fashion, Mo’ (a.k.a. Kevin Moore) downplayed the latest honor during his Artist of the Month interview with the Bluegrass Situation.

“Well, for me I guess it represents the fact I’m getting old,” he said with a laugh. “But sure, you are honored whenever you get that kind of recognition from your peers. But I’ve still got a lot that I want to do and I’m still looking ahead.” A huge indication of that is his outstanding new LP, Good to Be. It is both a tribute to his background growing up in Compton, California, and a celebration of some 11 years in his current hometown, Nashville. Read more.


Buffalo Nichols

 

As the first solo blues artist signed to Fat Possum Records in 20 years, Buffalo Nichols faces high expectations. But on his self-titled debut, the musician (whose given name is Carl Nichols) more than meets them, stitching Black history and musical traditions with current events and experiences to craft the sonic equivalent of a quilt. And the story it tells is an important one.

Nichols was born in Houston and raised in Milwaukee, but when he got the urge to roam and the money to do it, he took off, immersing himself in creative scenes across Europe and West Africa. Although he’s been based in Austin since the fall of 2020, Nichols channels the Delta, North Mississippi and Chicago through his nimble fingers or resonator slide while wrapping his warm voice around words that cut to the core of oppression, and the many forms of heartbreak it causes. Read more.


Chris Pierce

 

Chris Pierce has cultivated a significant following in the Los Angeles area and beyond, usually writing soulful and emotional songs that have populated fifteen years’ worth of albums and appeared in TV shows like This Is Us. But in 2020, accompanied by little more than his 1949 Gibson J-45 (“Blondie”) or his 1973 Martin D-18 (“Doriella”), the California native recorded the album American Silence with a mission of social activism against racial disparities.

Pierce gained a love of language from his mother, an English teacher who taught at-risk youth. She introduced him to the lyrical writings of Shel Silverstein and Dr. Seuss, as well as essential writers like Langston Hughes and Walt Whitman. The economy of words in all of those authors is immediately evident in original compositions like “American Silence” and “It’s Been Burning for a While,” where Pierce gets his point across directly, and with power. His convictions are never more optimistically presented than in the album’s closing anthem, “Young, Black and Beautiful,” which details the experience of maturing from a cute little kid to a perceived threat. Read more.


 

Allison Russell

 

Within the songs of her new album Outside Child, Allison Russell delves deeply into the extreme trauma she experienced in her youth spent in Montreal both as a mechanism for personal relief, but also in the hopes that it might reach people with similar experiences.

“The writing process was having to delve deeply into the most painful parts of my past and childhood and history,” she says. “I experienced severe childhood abuse, sexual, physical, mental, and psychological. In many ways, I think the psychological is the toughest part to unpack and defang. I don’t know that I am ever going to be entirely free of that and the process of dealing with that. What was very beautiful about this to me is that I didn’t have to go on that fearsome journey alone. My partner J.T. [Nero] was with me every step of the way. He co-wrote many of the songs on this record with me. He scraped me up off the floor when I was in the depths of it.” Read more.


Tray Wellington

Banjo player Tray Wellington was everywhere to be found during the 2021 IBMA World of Bluegrass — performing, hosting the Momentum Awards luncheon, and playing a main stage set at the Red Hat Amphitheater. This is remarkable because if you had looked for Wellington at IBMA just a few short years ago, you might not have run into him except on the youth stage or in the halls, jamming.

Catapulted by his prior work with the talented young band Cane Mill Road, his studies at East Tennessee State University’s bluegrass program, and a stable of accomplished and connected mentors and peers, Wellington went from a newbie to a seasoned veteran faster than a global pandemic could subside — and during it. Efforts for better and more accurate representation in bluegrass have contributed to his momentum (no pun intended), but above all, his talent and his envelope-pushing approach to the five-string banjo are the root causes of his mounting and well-deserved notoriety. Read more.


Yasmin Williams

 

Guitarists spend lifetimes — often gleefully, sometimes manically, or at times frustratingly — finessing techniques, especially with their picking hand. Entire careers can be made or broken by the idiosyncrasies of one picker’s striking and sounding strings. Fingerstyle guitarist and composer Yasmin Williams has mastered myriad forms of right-hand styles, each complicated enough for multiple lifetimes’ worth of study. But she doesn’t merely alternate techniques between pieces; to a transcendentally perplexing degree she effortlessly alternates her entire picking hand approach mid-song.

On her 2021 release, Urban Driftwood, a collection of thoughtful, dynamic, and engaging instrumentals written for fingerstyle guitar and harp guitar, Williams makes many of these technique-swaps while the compositions charge forward, each one earning tailor-made right-hand approaches. As a result, the songs don’t feel encumbered when Williams, mid-melody, goes from right hand fingerstyle to bowing her strings with a cello bow, or plunking out notes on a kalimba taped to her guitar’s face, now positioned laying across her lap. She utilizes hand percussion and tap shoes to fill out arrangements, interposing Afro-descended instruments from around the world into her compositions, and she picks up, puts down, and readjusts her stable of musical tools in real time — as a foley sound effect artist, prop master, or choreographer might. Read more.


Yola

Speaking to Yola over Zoom is way more fun than a video call has any right to be. From the time she dials in from the UK, she’s ready to chat. Good thing, because there’s a lot to talk about. About a week earlier, she picked up two Grammy nominations in the American Roots Music category of Best American Roots Song (“Diamond Studded Shoes”) and Best Americana Album (Stand For Myself), and she’s clearly still exhilarated by it.

“It’s very hard for it to even land because it feels really super surreal,” she says. “I don’t know how else to describe it. I’m endlessly grateful to the work that everyone puts in to get me to this point, and honestly, the faith that people have to let me lead at all. I wasn’t always in positions like that, ones that would let me lead.”

She’s speaking of a different kind of leadership style than, say, former British Prime Minister Theresa May, whose sparkly footwear worn during a speech about childhood poverty led to the idea of writing “Diamond Studded Shoes.” Although it does have a feel-good groove, you can’t miss its message of inequality. “And that’s why we gots to fight,” she sings. Read more.


Photo Credit: Norman Seff (Ray Charles); Alysse Gafkjen (Robert Finley); Courtesy of Reggie Harris (Reggie Harris); Justin Hardiman (Christone “Kingfish” Ingram); Sandlin Gaither (Amythyst Kiah); Jeremy Cowart (Keb’ Mo’); Merrick Ales (Buffalo Nichols); Mathieu Bitton (Chris Pierce); Laura E. Partain (Allison Russell); Mountain Home Music Company (Tray Wellington); Kim Atkins Photography (Yasmin Williams); Joseph Ross Smith (Yola)

Harmonics With Beth Behrs: Amythyst Kiah

Welcome back to Harmonics! While host Beth Behrs is planning a brief hiatus from the show (at least regarding new episodes – you can still follow along with everything Harmonics via the newsletter and social media), she is sending us off with one new episode to hold us over. For this episode, Beth sits down with longtime BGS favorite (and recent Artist of the Month alum!) Amythyst Kiah.

Powered by RedCircle

Kiah tells the story of her life’s musical journey, discusses the importance of claiming her space in the roots music world as a queer Black woman, and ponders religion, philosophy, and spiritual moments experienced through music. The pair also talk about mental health and the transformative power of therapy, feeling like an outsider and the dangers of isolation, repressing feelings and toxic positivity, and wonder: Do we each truly have a specific purpose in life?


Listen and subscribe to Harmonics through all podcast platforms and follow Harmonics and Beth Behrs on Instagram for series updates!

Photo credit: Sandlin Gaither

The BGS Radio Hour – Episode 217

Welcome to the BGS Radio Hour! Since 2017, this weekly radio show and podcast has been a recap of all the great music, new and old, featured on the digital pages of BGS. This week we have California country from Elijah Ocean and the Ben Reddell Band, acoustic folk goodness from Anna Tivel, a final farewell to our August Artist of the Month Amythyst Kiah, and much more.

APPLE PODCASTS, SPOTIFY

Amythyst Kiah – “Black Myself”

In our recent two-part interview with our August Artist of the Month, Amythyst Kiah, she spoke with us about faith, about mental health and singing vulnerable, open songs every night, and the intent behind lyrics and songs like “Black Myself.” Plus, she retells the series of events that helped her leave her “shut-up-and-sing” policy behind. Thank goodness for that.

Chris J. Norwood – “Good Guy With a Gun”

On “Good Guy With a Gun,” singer-songwriter Chris J Norwood examines the grief and loss of his father’s suicide while challenging the United States’ gun culture: “Truth be told, we as a country need to talk more openly about suicide. Especially as it relates to the gun debate…”

Ava Earl – “New Light”

One of the first love songs singer-songwriter Ava Earl ever wrote, “New Light” is also a little existential — it deals with the wonder and mystery of the universe as well as that of love.

Elijah Ocean – “Honky Tonk Hole”

As Elijah Ocean himself puts it: “‘Honky Tonk Hole’ is about a guy who has seen better days and whose big dreams have all gone up in smoke. Now he spends all his time drinking and playing country music in bars. Not entirely sure why he’s complaining about it, though. Seems kinda fun and not a bad life. It’s a high-energy shuffle about falling into a rut but also kind of loving it.”

Ben Reddell Band – “12 Bar Blues”

Musician and frontman Ben Reddell recently put together a Mixtape celebrating bands and artists who have played The Grand Ole Echo, a roots music concert series he books at LA’s Echo Park, or who rely on the creative and rehearsal space he manages, Bedrock LA. To quote: “We love our traditional country here in Echo Park, but we also like to let our freak flag fly with the hippie-dippie, pot-smoking types as well.” Check out the community-minded Mixtape here.

Kashena Sampson – “Hello Darkness”

Nashville-based Americana singer Kashena Sampson brings us a Shocking Blue cover that carries a feeling of yearning for someone you can’t be with.

Morningsiders – “This Could Be Good”

Morningsiders began writing their new album after the pandemic lockdowns began. They wanted “This Could Be Good” to be dance-y and delicate while being about aimless nights out with friends.

Anna Tivel – “Illinois”

Singer-songwriter Anna Tivel talked with us about her pre-show rituals (or lack thereof), drawing inspiration from literature and poetry, observing the natural and manmade world, and more in a recent 5+5.

Anya Hinkle – “Why Women Need Wine”

Asheville’s Anya Hinkle told us about the massive influence Gillian Welch had on her musically, combining the spirits of musicians who had influenced Hinkle early on — like Tony Rice, the Grateful Dead, Joan Baez, Sarah McLachlan and Madonna — into one tangible, modern, and original roots sound. Read more in this edition of 5+5.

Jay Nash – “Shine”

Jay Nash wrote “Shine” inspired by the new arrival of his daughter. It took him nearly ten years to return to the song idea: “Because, as all parents know, what followed those calm and quiet moments of parenthood was an all-out sprint… a crash course [of] becoming a parent.”

Dallas Burrow – “My Father’s Son”

On his new track, “My Father’s Son,” self-described troubadour Dallas Burrow tells the four-generation story of the men in his family line — and the influence they’ve had on their sons. It’s a tender, honest, autobiographical history.

Lonesome River Band – “Every Minute Means a Mile”

The Lonesome River Band pays tribute to the Easter Brothers on their upcoming album, Singing Up There: A Tribute to the Easter Brothers. And “Every Minute Means a Mile” is an uncomplicated Easter Brothers classic.

Adeline Stringband – “Hickory”

Adeline Stringband — a veritable old-time supergroup featuring Chris Coole, Mark Kilianski, John Showman, Adrian Gross, and Sam Allison — holed up in a cabin in the woods and recorded old time tunes for three days and three nights. Gross describes it as one of the most off-the-cuff and creative sessions he’s ever been a part of: “Seeing as it was -20º and there was a blizzard outside the whole time, there was nothing to do but pick tunes and roll the tape, and that’s exactly what we did.”

Jackson Melnick – “John the Revelator”

“Apocalypse isn’t to be confused with tragedy. Apocalypse is seeing something in truth, and the pain that might come from having the blinders pulled off.” Jackson Melnick brings us a bluegrass version of this classic blues song.


Photos: (L to R) Elijah Ocean by Wolfe & Von; Amythyst Kiah by Sandlin Gaither; Anna Tivel by Matt Kennelly

What Amythyst Kiah Is Really Singing About in “Black Myself” (Part 2 of 2)

When Amythyst Kiah was a teenager in the suburbs of Chattanooga, Tennessee, she wanted to be “the guitar-playing version of Tori Amos.” Locked away in her room with her headphones pulled over her ears, poring over liner notes and listening intently for every nuance in her favorite records, she found solace in the way Amos told her darkest secrets in her songs and how she turned that vulnerability into something like a superpower. It made her feel less alone, especially as a young, closeted Black girl in a largely white suburb. Tori Amos helped her survive adolescence.

Kiah didn’t grow up to become any version of her hero. Instead, she simply became herself. Her new solo album, Wary + Strange, ingeniously mixes blues and folk with alternative and indie rock, devising a vivid palette to soundtrack her own songs that tell dark secrets. It’s one of the most bracing albums of the year, grappling with matters both personal (her mother’s suicide) and public (the struggles of Black Americans). “Now, when I’m in my mid-thirties,” says Kiah, “it’s amazing to make a vulnerable record and then have people at my shows tell me that my music helped them heal, helped them get through some hard times. To have someone connect with my music is really powerful.”

Editor’s Note: Read the first half of our BGS Artist of the Month interview with Amythyst Kiah here.

BGS: These songs are rooted in your own life and your own experiences, but they do seem like there is something universally relatable in them. Is that something you were thinking about or striving for?

Kiah: Yeah. To have someone connect with my music is really powerful. But that’s been hard to process that idea, because for the longest time I had so much social anxiety and depression and low self-esteem. I didn’t think that much of myself and couldn’t imagine that anybody really cared about me. It’s all stuff related to mental health. Obviously there are people who cared about me. I just couldn’t see it. Now, I’ve come around and maybe fully grasped my value as a person and what I have to offer the world, and that has been very reaffirming. I have a better sense of who I am and why I’m here. And it feels good to make music that helps people get through hard times.

What is it like to revisit the tough times in these songs night after night?

I’ve spent some time thinking about that, and I don’t really know how I’m doing it, to be perfectly honest. A big part of it is that I spent a really long time repressing my emotions and keeping my feelings to myself. So writing a song about how I’m feeling is a sign that I’ve processed it. Not that I’m moving on or I’m done with it, whatever I might be writing about. But I’ve confronted it. I’ve learned from it. And now I can continue with my life and move forward.

A big part of my life has been living in the past and not being fully present in the moment. In order to be present, you have to be able to process stuff that’s happening to you in that moment. Otherwise, you make decisions based on something that happened before. So, a song is a representation of me processing something and understanding what happened to me. Singing that song night after night, it doesn’t feel like I’m necessarily reliving it every time. Because I’ve already processed it. That’s my working theory right now. It might change.

That’s something I think about a lot, because as a listener I can play a song based on the mood I’m in. But as an artist, you’re locked into these songs. You can’t not play them.

I get what you’re saying. The way people listen to music is really fascinating to me. My partner and I, we approach music very differently. My approach has always been to listen to things that reflect my mood. When I was younger, that meant listening to a lot of really sad, depressing songs. Somehow that made me feel good. I’m a very critical listener of music and I like to listen to all the different intricacies. I’m not someone who has a vast library of music, but I’m obsessed with certain sounds and ideas so I will listen to an album and pick apart every detail.

But my partner listens to music to shut her brain off. Her favorite artists are very different from mine. She loves a lot of pop music, like Taylor Swift. To her it’s feel-good music. You break it out and sing along. But she also listens to a lot of classical music, too. She’s got that ability to go back and forth with her listening vibe. That was surprising to me at first, because I used think, “How can people listen to happy music? Don’t they know what’s happening in the world?” I would deliberately avoid happy music because I was personally insulted by it. But thanks to my partner, I can totally see that perspective where you’re listening to music that doesn’t reflect the mood you’re in because you’re trying to snap out of it.

Did that change how you listened to music?

As I’ve gotten older and my mental health has gotten a lot better, I can appreciate listening to something that is just meant to be fun. It doesn’t have to be a super serious moment. I think I learned how to be a lot less pretentious about what I listened to and why I listened to it, and I learned to be a lot less judgmental about other people’s listening habits.

Some lines in these songs sound very defiant of religion — like in “Black Myself,” when you sing, “Your precious God ain’t gonna bless me.” Can you talk about that aspect of your songwriting?

With “Black Myself,” the idea was that each verse would be from the perspective of a specific type of person. So the first verse with that line is from the perspective of an enslaved person. They’re singing about wanting to jump the fence, wanting to be free, wanting to be with the one they love. If an enslaved person had a relationship or a marriage, it was never legally recognized. There was always a chance that they might get sold to different people and they’d never see each other again. Whatever bonds they had could be broken, like they were just cattle. The line about “Your precious God ain’t gonna bless me,” that’s a direct reference to the way that pro-slavery people used Christianity as a way to justify enslaving people.

There was a Bible specifically written for enslaved people — it was even called the Slave Bible — and the people who edited it made sure to only leave in the verses that talk about being obedient. All the verses that talk about autonomy and freedom were removed. The sole purpose was to get enslaved people to be content being slaves, so they wouldn’t revolt. But they were basically saying, “God wants you to be enslaved. He wants you to serve your master. He wants you to be treated like a subhuman.” That is not a God that I would ever want to believe in or ascribe to. That line is that character saying that’s wrong.

I’ve had one or two instances where someone got upset at that line, because they felt like I was being disrespectful to God without really understanding the context in which it’s being said. But I don’t agree with that. There are people all over the world with different belief systems, and at the end of the day, if what you believe in makes you a better person and makes you have respect for humanity, that’s wonderful. If you believe in humanity, that’s what important to me. But why would God be OK with telling someone they have no freedom? But any time you make art, there’s always going to be people who see one thing but not everything else surrounding it. And they base an opinion on that. Not everybody’s going to understand the whole picture.

I read about your performances in Europe, where the crowd would sing “Black Myself” back to you. It definitely seems to reinforce that idea of having a conversation with the song.

I was at the Cambridge Folk Festival with Rhiannon [Giddens], Yola, and Kaïa Kater. We put together a set where we’re singing our own songs and then singing harmonies for everybody else’s. There had to be 500 or 600 English white people in this tent, and it was the first time I’d really noticed other people singing the song or singing that line, “I’m black myself.” I remember thinking, “What planet are we on?” One of my biggest reservations about that song was that people would hear it and think, “Oh, that’s just for black people.” But to me, when someone’s telling a story, it’s meant for everyone to hear. Systemic racism is something that affects everybody in different ways, so we all need to be part of the conversation if we’re going to make things better and look out for each other.

Did you get any other negative responses to the song?

My big concern was that there would be some backlash from white people who weren’t really listening to the song or thinking about it. I was afraid they’d try to make a point like, “If this was called ‘White Myself,’ you’d be canceled.” And there have actually been some comments like that, which completely disregards the fact that the song is about Blacks. It’s about overcoming adversity despite being Black. So if someone can’t hear the words of the song and actually understand what’s happen, that says more about them than it does about me or the song. So I have no apologies for it.

But there are white people who understand what the song is about and they’re singing in solidarity. They know that it’s about human experience. And just because you didn’t personally experience some of this stuff doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to sing along with it. I had a similar conversation the other day with somebody about the song “Coal Miner’s Daughter” by Loretta Lynn. I’m not a coal miner’s daughter. I didn’t grow up in the coal mines. But I love that song and I love to sing that song. It’s a great song about someone else’s experiences. Empathy is such an important quality in that regard and we need allyship in order for things to get better.

Editor’s Note: Read the first half of our BGS Artist of the Month interview with Amythyst Kiah here.


Photo credit: Sandlin Gaither

Amythyst Kiah Ends Her Shut-Up-and-Sing Policy on ‘Wary + Strange’ (Part 1 of 2)

Amythyst Kiah took great pains to get Wary + Strange just right. After studying banjo and old-time music at East Tennessee State University in her twenties, she gained a reputation as an intense live performer, so much so that she was asked to join the roots supergroup Our Native Daughters, where she played alongside Rhiannon Giddens, Allison Russell, and Leyla McCalla. The group recorded Kiah’s bluesy anthem “Black Myself” as the opening cut on their 2019 album, Songs of Our Native Daughters.

The experience of working directly with her contemporaries — even the idea of considering them as her contemporaries — was a profound experience, one that stirred her to write songs that took bigger risks and told bigger truths about herself. She’d been struggling to make this record for several years by then, booking sessions with various producers, but never feeling satisfied with the results. She didn’t hear herself in the music.

That changed when she began working with producer Tony Berg (Aimee Mann, Phoebe Bridgers), and together they devised a way to combine all of Kiah’s influences rather than compartmentalize them. Wary + Strange is a headphones album, one that listeners will pore over intently. “It feels good to make music that helps people get through hard times,” Kiah tells the Bluegrass Situation.

Editor’s Note: Read the second half of our BGS Artist of the Month interview with Amythyst Kiah here.

BGS: Are you surprised by the response this record has gotten?

Kiah: This is my label debut. So it’s really the first time that I’ve worked with a giant team of people helping me get my music out into the world. So the whole experience has been completely new. My focus was really tol make this album where I’m excited about it and happy with it, so I felt pretty confident about it. Then I started promoting it and things started coming in, and I didn’t realize how much was going to come in because I’d never done it before. So now I have the craziest workload that I’ve had in a long time. I’m just drinking a lot of caffeine and hanging on as long as I can, because I’m getting an opportunity that a lot of artists don’t get.

And add to that the fact that you can actually play live shows again, if only for a little while. What has the audience reaction been like?

People are really excited to get back to playing or get back to just seeing live music. All of us that were doing virtual gigs for a year and a half. Any time I’ve played a virtual gig, I’ve made a point to say that we’re all in this weird situation together, so let’s make the best of it. The audience is just looking at me through a camera lens, and I’m looking at them through a camera lens, but we’re doing our best to share our energy with one another. I can’t tell you how many times over the past several shows that I’ve gone out to the merch table and people have told me, “This is the first show I’ve seen since quarantine.” They are so excited, so the energy has been more intense than I can remember.

You mentioned something a minute ago about wanting to make sure you were happy with this record. You recorded these songs several times trying to get to that point, and I wondered if you could talk about that process. What was missing from those early songs?

The first time I made the record, it was with Dirk Powell in Louisiana, and it was right before the sessions for Our Native Daughters. But I didn’t really have a strong idea of what I wanted. I was dealing with some writer’s block at the time, and I was putting pressure on myself to put out another record. So I was recording a lot of songs that I didn’t really play anymore, and it felt like I was just trying to fill out an album.

At the end of the recording process, it sounded like a record that was very safe. It sounded good but it was safe. It wasn’t showing any real musical growth from me as an artist. I felt like I was compartmentalizing a lot of my folk stuff and the stuff I played with my backing band. I had this folk side of me and this rock version of me, and it just slapped me in the face that all of those songs needed to be on the record.

What was the nature of your writer’s block? How did you get through it?

There was a period when I wasn’t really writing songs that much. A lot of it had to do with the fact that I was repressing a lot of emotions regarding my mother’s suicide. For twelve years I would do anything I could to avoid getting in touch with those feelings. I was in survival mode, and when you’re in survival mode it’s really hard to think deeply about some of your choices. I was just trying to ignore it all. By the time I got to Our Native Daughters, I’d written a handful of songs over the course of two or three years. That was my second year going into therapy, and I’d made a couple of breakthroughs in understanding how my grief was affecting other aspects of my life.

Being around Rhiannon and Leyla and Allison and writing songs with them, I started to understand something important about myself. We all had this similar background of being the token Black person in a genre that has some very obvious African influences. But that history and those identities had been removed and the music had been segregated. We were able to share stories about being confused with other people, stuff like that. Just to be able to have that conversation with other people who understood where I was coming from was wonderful. Being in that environment gave me the courage to write about the things I was talking about. I’d been afraid to put those experiences into songs because I have this shut-up-and-sing policy for a long time. So that was an important moment for me.

We’re telling stories of our ancestors who were able to survive the transatlantic ship voyage. They survived the Civil War. Reconstruction. Segregation. Civil Rights. We’re standing on the shoulders of so many people who survived, and we’re here because of their survival. Once you start to make those big spiritual connections beyond what you’ve read in a history book, suddenly there’s nothing to be afraid of. If they can survive, then I can survive writing a song about how I feel. There was a new sense of empowerment to really write about myself. So after that project, I wrote more songs. I wrote “Soapbox.” I wrote “Opaque.” I wrote “Firewater.”

Did that change how you approached recording the album?

Really I was still figuring myself out and how I wanted to be defined as a musician. It was a lot of self-exploration. I recorded the album again at Echo Mountain Studios in Asheville, North Carolina. But the third time’s the charm, as they say. I met Tony Berg, and he was able to help me encapsulate the inherent wariness and strangeness of all of these songs. We were also able to keep that essence of roots music while adding in these different textures and sounds. He actually told me once while we were recording, “I don’t think I’ve heard a record that sounds quite like this one.” He’s obviously listened to way more music than I ever have, so I knew we had something special at that point. I knew that would be the final time recording the album.

It sounds like you had to go through those first two versions of the album to get to that point.

Yes. I definitely don’t want to say that those first two didn’t sound good or weren’t worthy. And I’m appreciative of anybody who spent time in any capacity working on them with me. It took all of those moments to get where we are now. But something was always missing, and you shouldn’t be too afraid to explore that and figure out what’s missing. Unless you’re 100 percent excited about your record, it’s going to be hard to go out and play those songs.

There’s a malleable quality to your songs. I’m thinking about the two versions of “Soapbox” on the record, or the solo version of “Black Myself” and the Our Native Daughters version. You talked about learning not to compartmentalize your music, but the songs seem like they could fit so many different settings. “Black Myself” in particular sounds very different when you’ve got several people singing as opposed to just one person singing.

I think that’s a recurring theme that’s always going to be part of my creative process. I spent a good amount of time in my twenties focusing on reinterpreting songs that already existed and learning about the different ways to make it your own. Or at least give it another perspective. It made me hyperaware of, “OK, what am I saying? What if I deliver this particular line this way or what if I go to a minor chord here instead of a major chord. How does that change the meaning?” I’ve always been fascinated with that kind of thing.

That’s just as valuable as writing new songs, because that’s the way most of us learn music. We learn other people’s music, and within that we find our own voice. Reimagining certain songs — even if they’re your own songs — is a valid way to express yourself. Balancing that can be a little tricky. With the various incarnations of this album, I was rehashing a lot of songs that I’d already done. I was taking songs I’d already recorded and rerecording them in a different way. So I had to make myself write new material. I didn’t want to stop moving forward.

As for “Black Myself,” I remember thinking, “Man, I wish I could have some people singing with me on this song.” It’s not even just from a production standpoint. It was more personal. So it was good to record with Rhiannon and Allison and Leyla sticking up for me, you know? It’s different without them. For the version on my record I was doing my own background vocals, which is really enjoyable and helps me dig into a song in a different way. But I definitely missed singing with them. But I was really excited to record that song by myself, because it’s a way to continue that conversation about white supremacy and anti-racism. It was a good opportunity to bring the song forward.

Editor’s Note: Read the second half of our BGS Artist of the Month interview with Amythyst Kiah here.


Photo credit: Sandlin Gaither

Artist of the Month: Amythyst Kiah

Amythyst Kiah is having a moment with Wary + Strange, an album that positions her among today’s most compelling singer-songwriters. Although she is an East Tennessee native, her personal lyrics somehow feel universal — this isn’t an album about rivers and mountains, but instead touches on identity (“Black Myself”), grief (“Wild Turkey”), and unsolicited advice (“Soapbox”). Written from a place of questioning and reckoning, a gently-played song like “Firewater” would satisfy anyone who enjoys an acoustic aesthetic, as well as those who draw confidence from the music of others.

“A lot of these songs come from a moment in my 20s when I was grappling with trauma while also trying to navigate the experience of being a Black and LGBT woman in a white suburban area in a Bible Belt town,” says Kiah, who moved to Johnson City after growing up in Chattanooga. “I’ve had moments of feeling othered in certain aspects of my life, and it took me a long time to figure out who I wanted to be and how to move through this world.”

With that perspective and a guitar in hand, she’s been sharing her music on stages ranging from the Grand Ole Opry to Newport Folk Festival to Jimmy Kimmel Live, where she performed “Black Myself.”

Upon announcing the record, she noted, “‘Black Myself’ is the first song I’ve written that was confrontational. I’d always made it a point to sing songs that anybody could relate to, but this was something that had been welling up inside me for a long time, and working with three other Black women in Our Native Daughters put me in the position where I finally had the courage to put those words out. The reception of the song so far has given me hope that there are people out there who are ready to confront the shared trauma of racism, to look within ourselves and see how we might be perpetuating racist beliefs, and to do what is needed to create equality for all people.”

Next month, Kiah (pronounced “KEE-uh”) is in the running in multiple categories for the Americana Music Honors & Awards. (As a solo artist, she’ll compete for Emerging Act of the Year, while “Black Myself” is up for Song of the Year. Our Native Daughters is also up for Duo/Group of the Year.) With this incredible career momentum, she’s criss-crossing the country in the months ahead: After a gig with Brandi Carlile and Sheryl Crow at the Gorge in Washington, she’ll be everywhere from Maine to Mexico, with a MerleFest gig in the mix too. Enjoy new music and some crowd favorites in our BGS Essentials Playlist with Amythyst Kiah below. And don’t miss our two-part Artist of the Month interview. Read part one here. Read part two here.


Photo credit: Sandlin Gaither