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?
It’s 2024 recap time on Basic Folk! Cindy & Lizzie dive into a most special year-end reflection, featuring highlights from our honest conversations with folk musicians. We revisit the top episode of the year, Anna Tivel & Jeffrey Martin’s insightful discussion on navigating artistic challenges and living a simple life. Cindy shares her favorite episode featuring her co-host Lizzie No talking about her career-defining album, Halfsies (our 250th episode!). In turn, Lizzie’s favorite honest convo came from Leyla McCalla onboard the Cayamo cruise. We sat in the ship lounge and dug in with Leyla about the “folk process” and her thoughts on cruising, as a Haitian-American, as we ported in Hispaniola aboard a luxury cruise line. (Spoiler: it is complex!)
Basic Folk also checks in with friend Jontavious Willis about his biggest lesson of 2024 and what defining success as an independent artist looks like as he has just released his latest, West Georgia Blues. We also welcome Rose Cousins’ heartfelt words on embracing change as she prepares to release her next record, Conditions of Love – Vol. 1 (out March 14, 2025). As the episode ends, Lizzie leaves us with some words of wisdom:
“We are at a time of year where your body wants to be doing less. We’ve just survived a chaos clown show of violence in the election. Our culture is shifting rapidly. It’s okay if the things that used to work for you don’t work anymore. You’re allowed to start over. You’re allowed to try new things. You’re allowed to tell people in your life, ‘I’ve changed.’ You’re allowed to listen to new artists. You’re allowed to change how you dress. You can do it all. 2025 is a new year and you have freedom. And that’s my blessing to you.” – Lizzie No
Photo Credit: Lizzie No by Cole Nielsen; Rose Cousins by Lindsay Duncan; Leyla McCalla by Chris Scheurich; Jontavious Willis courtesy of the artist; Anna Tivel by Cody Onthank; Jeffrey Martin courtesy of the artist.
Anna Tivel and Jeffrey Martin have both released new albums in the past year that have knocked us right over. Living Thing is the most recent Anna Tivel record and Thank God We Left the Garden is the latest from Jeffrey Martin. Of all the singer-songwriter interviews and musician conversations we’ve done over the course of the pod, these two kooks have been a popular pair on this Basic Folk podcast. Their inspiration, musician life stories, and music career development have been fascinating journeys, Jeffrey being a former high school teacher and Anna spending her formative years intensely playing the fiddle before moving to Portland, Oregon at the age of 18.
In our conversation, the pair speak to several hot topics like, “Do you write about your neighbors,” “How’s your physical body at processing stress,” and “What is the point of your newsletter?” We dig right into it in true folk music podcast fashion, and these two are not holding back. If you are looking for some top notch advice, music collaboration ideas, and the latest in folk music trends – it remains to be seen whether you will find that here. What you will find are two very deep and thoughtful musicians sharing what goes on in their lives and hearts and in their designated work spaces. Spoiler alert: Anna’s office has five massive papier mâché eyeballs.
Photo Credit: Anna Tively by Cody Onthank; Jeffrey Martin by Jeffrey Martin
“Nobody tells it like it is,” Anna Tivel sings on “Disposable Camera,” the first single from her new album, Living Thing. The song radiates with the joy and pain of reality, climaxing with the lines:
That big black train is rolling And that deep down scream is growing A hurricane come howling A shot heard from the mountain A blessing and a burden I swear this will be worth it…
Which are followed by a melodic and cathartic yell. I don’t know how I first came across Tivel’s music, but when I found the song “Blue World,” I got stuck on it. I listened to it over and over, trying to take in every aspect of it, break it into pieces, open it up like a watch so that I could understand how this perfect song ticked. It is still the most beautiful meditation on dying that I’ve ever heard. “You come to the heavy gate and you open it all alone…” is a line I think about often. To me, it sounded like she herself was telling it like it is.
A few weeks after discovering “Blue World,” I was on tour with Kris Drever, who is one of my favorite folk musicians from Scotland. We were trading new music discoveries and I played him that song, after which he became obsessed with it. We traveled around listening to “Blue World” and talking about death for the rest of the tour. Giving someone a new song to love is a special kind of transaction. It’s a gift for the new listener, but also a point of pride to have found something that someone else also finds meaning in – especially when the recipient of said gift is a musician you admire. New song discoveries are an unmatchable currency, a communication beyond words.
“Blue World” sent me on a journey through Tivel’s catalogue, with hours spent listening to Small Believer, The Question, and Outsiders, before the release of her latest record on March 31. With Tivel’s latest collection, I have to come to the conclusion that someone does tell it like it is and that person is Anna Tivel. I spoke with her over the phone for BGS about the inspiration behind her songs and the unique circumstances that led to her production choices on Living Thing.
I’ve been a fan of your work for a long time and I’m curious to know what feels new and different about this record than your past work?
Anna Tivel: I think there are two main things. I’ve worked with Shane Leonard before [who produced Outsiders and The Question], but this is the deepest collaboration we’ve ever done. There is so much of his heart and his sonic experimentation in these songs.
We made this squarely in the pandemic years, so there was no way to call upon a band for live tracking. It was just me and him in his studio. He went insane trying all kinds of sounds, playing all different instruments, and I scribbled extra verses on napkins as I heard what he was coming up with. We worked all day, every day and I slept on his couch for a month. I tried to say yes to everything and I learned so much. I really feel like the sounds feel different than what we’ve worked on before.
The other thing is that going through that year, I was craving soaring choruses… more melody and rise and rhythmic happenings that I normally do. Maybe it was a result of just sitting and looking at the same window for so long. I usually write long and dark monotonous stories with no chorus at all, but I think I craved a little more hope and joy. In general I feel like less people died on this album than usually die my albums… it’s still melancholy as fuck though.
Knowing that these songs were written and recorded during that very existential time, and now that they are being released into a different time, do these songs feel different to you than they once did?
Yeah, it’s interesting, the whole process of putting out a record. I really got stuck in the machine for a little while so it took quite a long time for this album to come out.
They are older songs now in my soul, but the project still feels really fresh. I think because Shane drew them into this more alive, sonic world. It was really exciting and fun to explore joy and rhythm and movement, especially in that isolated time. It felt good to have some hope and just wiggle around and try to feel the good parts of being a human.
So coming back to it now, it feels new and exciting to take them out on the road with a band. It’s making me realize it’s fun to have some songs that we can really move into, rather than building up from the ground.
One of my favorite tracks from your new record is “Desperation” – “Real life is far from fair, you tried and tried and got nowhere/ It’s like somebody rigged the whole damn thing/ Bloody knuckles, empty hands, you want to fight, but all you ever had/ Is desperation.” Can you tell me a little about what led to that song?
I think that one came out of the heart of that pandemic time, watching people, and having an awareness of how close many folks are to the edge, simultaneously knowing how the people pulling the strings aren’t the ones close to the edge.
Maybe your kid gets sick, and you miss work, and then that’s that, you’re evicted, and into the car. You don’t choose what you’re born into and if you’re born with the short end of the stick, it’s so hard to imagine anything but that reality.
You can see getting stuck, because that imagination isn’t generously shared by the people that own it. But if people that are living in a different world reach out to help it can really change the situation. Sometimes that means helping people believe that a different reality is possible. You have to go into your mind to create what you need. It’s sort of the same idea as representation, in the sense that if you’ve seen people that feel like you in very different situations than you, you can imagine yourself into a different situation.
I want to work on making that imagination more widely available.
That’s an amazing point, and a great one to keep in mind especially for artists. Artists can and have played that role for people, I believe. Does this same idea carry through for the song, “Disposable Camera?”
I like songwriting because you’re sort of always looking inward… You think you’re reflecting the world, but so much of yourself gets in there and the things that you’re learning into. A lot of this album is about getting free, getting loose of the way that you’ve taken in that it “should be,” the way that you should express yourself or the way you should move…
A lot of friends in the pandemic were having kids or trying to have kids and I was thinking about how, when we were all born, our parents were these people. [I was] realizing that everyone making babies has no idea what is going [to happen] and it’s kind of beautiful that it’s this big wheel of nobody knowing what they’re doing. Everyone is kinda hoping that someone else will be like “this is what it is,” but maybe the not knowing is actually a freedom. It feels scary to think you’re supposed to be certain, but you aren’t yet. The freedom is that nobody actually is certain and that’s not going to change.
I was listening to your song “Kindness of a Liar” and thinking about how important escapism was in 2020 and 2021. How badly I needed books and TV shows to get lost in so that I could come back to the present and have energy to cope with what was happening. Is that what this song is about to you?
In this batch of songs I was thinking a lot about what is truth, what is honest, what is listening, and what is being able to have nuance in all of those realms. You don’t just stay certain. To be able to move and shift and read situations and try to be learning in real time, messily, is very different from saying, “This is a fact and I’m going to hit everyone over the head with it until I’m proven wrong, and then I’m going to pretend I never said it.”
To try and tell stories to one another that are compassionate and messy – sometimes telling a story that might not be true is the most gentle and kind thing you can do while something hard is happening.
I think it’s about recognizing how much we crave each other’s stories and being really aware of how we paint the world for each other. The more artfully and more compassionately we tell each other’s stories the more we connect, and it’s not about trying to prove our point.
The most loving thing you can do is to share your mind and heart with people in the most nuanced way. And maybe there’s some fiction and lore in that.
Artist:Malachi Graham Hometown: Portland, Oregon Latest Album:Caretaker
What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?
The Portland release show for my new album Caretaker in January was both surreal and sublime, in the best way. It was a month and two days after I had emergency brain surgery, necessitated by a rare blood infection called Lemierre Syndrome. I had only just regained use of my left side in rehab, I wasn’t allowed to lift more than 10 pounds or bend over and there was a historic ice storm in Portland just starting to thaw. Honestly, it was a little absurd to play the show and keep the date, but it didn’t feel reckless, because I had a community to catch me. Bandmates who insisted on lifting my gear, physical therapists who taught me how to play guitar again, a loving partner to change the bandages on my head, incredible parents who housed me and my band through the ice storm so we could all practice together, and so many supportive faces in the audience.
Caretaker is about trying to hold it all together, on behalf of other people, whether they ask you to or not. It’s about how that gets messy, about when that’s generous, and when that’s self-serving. My health crisis turned the meaning of the record on its head for me and taught me to receive care myself, to fall apart and trust I’ll be held. I tumbled into the web of care we weave for each other, that catches us when we least expect to need it. My friends, my family, my partner, and my bandmates were all there for me in every way that night. It was hard to make it through the songs without weeping with gratitude for being alive. I’ll never forget it.
What other art forms – literature, film, dance, painting, etc. – inform your music?
I read once that the four qualities of excellent songwriting are texture, detail, wit, and truth. My very favorite songwriters are masters of all four — artists like Aimee Mann, Loretta Lynn, Eef Barzelay, Anna Tivel, and Jolie Holland.
Another art form that’s a study in the same principals? Miniature making! Lately I’ve been enthralled by dollhouse building and the creation of tiny worlds. Miniature artists pay attention to the smallest details that make something feel realistic and truthful, even if a scene is an imaginary place. The very act of building something tiny in meticulous detail is inherently whimsical and a bit absurd. It requires sharpness and ingenuity, and a scale of thinking that’s totally different than the day-to-day.
All of that feels akin to songwriting for me. I got to dabble in miniature making myself in the new music video for my song “We Made a Home,” which I built and filmed in a little yellow dollhouse at 1:12 scale. My favorite part was hand-building the tiny lifelike details of a cohabitating relationship in decline, from mini Rainier Beer cans, to mini self-help books, to mini dirty dishes. I also made a tiny Ear Trumpet Labs microphone case. (When I’m not making music, I’m the business manager at Portland microphone workshop, Ear Trumpet Labs.)
N.B., miniature making takes a lot longer than songwriting.
How often do you hide behind a character in a song or use “you” when it’s actually “me?”
This has been an evolution for me. My early forays into songwriting felt more driven by an observational, sometimes academic curiosity, influenced by poetry, history, and family stories about my matriarchal ancestors. My first EP, Selfish, includes songs inspired by the 1934 Hays Code, Marconi’s theories of radio transmission, and my grandmother cleaning out the eaves of her house. I wrote and learned a lot from other people’s perspectives before I’d experienced much life myself. I still enjoy writing from other people’s perspectives as a practice in empathy and curiosity, but I find that my most emotionally resonant songs have more to do with my own experiences. It takes a different kind of bravery and vulnerability to write in the first person, and that has felt scary to do sometimes. On songs like “Montreal” and “Before Pictures,” even if the exact thing that’s happened to the narrator hasn’t happened to me, there’s a deeper truth or feeling I’ve experienced that I can get at best through a fictionalized story.
What has been the best advice you’ve received in your career so far?
Don’t be afraid to get weirder! My friend Jamie Stillway, a masterful guitarist and fearless sonic explorer, told me this about six years ago and it really stuck with me. I was feeling a bit trapped in particular instrumental and songwriting styles, because I assumed it was what people wanted to hear from me. I used to keep my musical selves neatly divided; I play and write in a synth pop band called Small Million and as a solo songwriter under my own name, and when I was younger I was more afraid to blend those worlds or explore the space between them. My musical start was all in folk and Americana music. The tradition and depth of songwriting in those genres is still a huge inspiration to me, but I’ve tried to give myself permission to be more faithful to a song and a feeling than to any genre in particular in my arrangements. The track “As Is” was written as a straight-ahead country song, but we recorded it played on an electric guitar looped backwards, played by two people at the same time with a screwdriver as a slide. A team of magical friends and collaborators helped me rip my songs apart and put them back together again to make them so much better, stranger, wilder than I ever could have imagined.
Which elements of nature do you spend the most time with and how do those impact your work?
Truth be told, I’m a bit of an indoor kid, so I guess… the air. But really, sincerely, I do spend a lot of time thinking about the air around me and inside of me, and how I interact with it through my breath. In singing, in practicing mindfulness, in both movement and stillness, breath is the element that calls me home into my own body. That helps me to remember that the body itself is an element of nature, and our breath is the place where the wild elements of the air and the self meet.
I often find myself exploring themes of both the body and the breath in my lyrics, as a window to intuition and self-trust, on songs like “Wonderful Life” on Caretaker, or “Be Wrong” and “Lightswitch” on my last Small Million record, Passenger. This really came full circle in my recent health crisis when I found myself on heavy oxygen in the ICU, and breath became something even more precious and sacred to me. My lung capacity as a singer really ended up saving my life— I’m still unpacking my gratitude and awe of that.
As humans, we have a history of turning to story for comfort, direction, and preservation – a way to keep the present alive in the future. Story can be found in books, poetry, song, and our minds and mouths.
This playlist starts with our song, “Once Upon a Time,” which was born of our turning to story in the deep uncertainty of early 2020, and is the opening track of our recently released, eponymous album. In this Mixtape, we feature songs that incorporate or allude to books, authors, poetry, or story, written by artists that inspire us to write our truest stories. – Ordinary Elephant
“Once Upon a Time” – Ordinary Elephant
When the world shut down in March of 2020, we found ourselves one show into a two-week Australian tour. After scrambling to get home, the quiet hit and the processing of a new world began from our Louisiana porch, deeply feeling the human instinct to turn to a sense of story when faced with intense uncertainty.
“Always a Little Less Time” – Justin Farren
“So I guess that’s always been the story of you and I.” Justin paints pictures with the specifics that draw you in and let you see yourself in his songs, then cuts straight to the truth. The impermanence and the importance of our time here. This song guts us, in the best way, every time.
“Nothing at All” – Clay Parker & Jodi James
“I’ve got books stacked on the bedside table, that are gonna make me well and able, but the light in my room is still burned out,” Jodi sings, as one of our favorite duos spins an ethereal tune of rejection and resolve.
“Walking Each Other Home” – Mary Gauthier
One of our favorite songs of Mary’s. Achingly beautiful, it details the uncertainty of a relationship ending, but also speaks to the broader idea of the unknown. “I don’t know how this story’s supposed to go,” she sings in the chorus, as it’s hard to know when we’re living it. But there is clarity and acceptance that “we’re all just walking each other home,” helping each other find our own stories.
“Under My Fingers” – Wes Collins
Wes is one of those writers who takes you places you didn’t know you needed to go. Both with his words and with his music. This song follows a writer’s thoughts, even alluding to the scarcity mindset that can sometimes take hold of creatives. The fear that it won’t last and the solution of surrendering to the pen.
“Paperback Writer” – The Beatles
The Beatles were Pete’s first musical love, showing up in his life around sixth grade and giving a wealth of melodies and harmonies to soak in. He studied guitar through their songs, which span so many genres, it was easy to get lost in their catalog for years.
“Windmills” – Mutual Admiration Society
The story of Don Quixote twisted into a song by one of Pete’s favorite songwriters, Glen Phillips. This song first appeared on Toad the Wet Sprocket’s 1994 album, Dulcinea. This version is from an incredibly underrated collaboration between Glen and Nickel Creek. Both of these artists changed Pete’s musical world, Glen being one of the first songwriters that he really dug into and in this collaboration, Nickel Creek introducing him to the world of acoustic music.
“Hemingway’s Whiskey” – Guy Clark
Guy Clark’s use of simple language to tell deep truths is unparalleled in the modern songbook. Here he salutes his admiration for another legendary writer, toasting with a drink, and reveling in the difficult work it takes to be a writer of that stature. Guy’s songs are revelations.
“I Ain’t Playing Pretty Polly Anymore” – Dirk Powell
We have the choice to perpetuate stories or let them die off. Some traditions continue to enrich our lives, but it’s important to realize when we’ve moved past them and when it’s time to draw the line between cautionary tale and normalizing certain types of violence. As someone steeped in tradition, Dirk makes an important statement about what songs are able validate, and that we can choose not to continue singing certain ones.
“The Other Morning Over Coffee” – Peter Mulvey
In remembering a conversation with a friend, Peter recalls talking about having lived lives “so full of poetry and adventure that if we died right then and there it would have been fine.” It’s a goal we can hope that some part of us is always aiming for. As the song unfolds, it becomes a perfect reminder that we’re all moving through the same world, the same bigger story, despite the difference in our details.
“Velvet Curtain” – Anna Tivel
Anna’s songs are movies, thick with imagery and emotion. She’s one of those writers who you’re thankful is walking this earth at the same time as you. This song shows us that sometimes there are words that need to be heard, and sometimes you’re unknowingly the one singing them.
“Billy Burroughs” – Jeffrey Martin
Jeffrey’s work tends to knock your socks off, right out of the gate. His rich voice and insightful command of language immediately demands your full attention. His background of teaching literature melds with his own writing here.
“Tailor” – Anaïs Mitchell
“When he said that my face he’d soon forget, I became a poet.” One of our favorite songwriters, Anaïs has a way of weaving a story that hits you in the softest spots. Here she spins a gorgeous warning of how easy it is to let others define our story, and that we can learn to tell our own if we remember to listen to ourselves.
“The Prophet” – Ordinary Elephant
Crystal came across a copy of Khalil Gibran’s The Prophet, gifted to her by a dear friend 20-something years ago. The bones of this song were hiding between the dog-eared pages, a discovery of self-love through returning to reminders of a love gone.
“Everything Is Free” – Gillian Welch
“We’re gonna do it anyway.” In lyric, and in delivery, Gillian shows us the power of song and story to persevere. Her voice and style are singular, and are always a welcome reminder to find comfort in the unique and truest version of ourselves.
Most songs stay in one musical scale or “key.” In this key there are 6 chords which are widely used. The 1 chord is the root chord, usually used to end the song and give a definite feeling.
Chords 2 and 3 are sad sounding minor chords in most cases. Chord 4 and 5 often give a feel of expectation to the ear, willing the melody back to the root (1) chord. The 6 chord is a relative minor to the root, often sad sounding.
In my opinion, some of the most successful moments of empathy occur when the feel of the chords and melody marry in harmony with the meaning of the lyrics. The lyrics themselves can also provide a musical feeling, the choice of vowels can marry to emotions, the consonants selected can give a nod to drum-like rhythm. I will try to give some examples here. – Mick Flannery
Bob Dylan – “Changing of the Guards”
Dylan uses a mixture of metaphors for social struggle and revolution in this epic song. The frequent use of the root chord and its relative minor at the end of phrases helps to add weight to the lines. This gives the song a definite feel, as he is ending on these strong chords as opposed to chords 4 or 5, which suggest a question unanswered.
Bob Dylan – “Baby, Stop Crying”
An example of melody marrying to feeling. The line, “Please stop crying,” is expressed with a longing in the melody concurrent with the meaning of the words. Also, “You know, I know, the sun will always shine” has a comforting feel in the melody with the word “shine” being on the root chord, helping it to sound definite and consoling.
Adele– “Someone Like You”
The top of the chorus in this song works very well between meaning and melody. The word “nevermind” is dismissed in quick order, as it would be in common parlance, giving a natural, talkative feel. The internal rhyme of “mind” and “find” gives a rhythmical feel to the line as a whole, allowing the listener to imagine a snare sound on the “I” vowels. The use of this internal rhyme makes the song universally easy on the ear, even to non-English speakers.
Lana Del Rey – “Video Games”
“It’s you, it’s you, it’s all for you, everything I do…” This whole line is placed on a 5 chord, which gives a feeling of something needing to be resolved, so the listener doesn’t know if the narrator is placing her trust in the right place.
“I tell you all the time” lands on a 4 chord – again, an expectant feel – making the listener wait for the line, “Heaven is a place on earth with you” landing on the 1 chord. This gives a definite note to the feeling, but narratively the listener is still left unsure if the feeling is requited, owing to the amount of time spent on uncertain footing in the melody.
Arctic Monkeys – “Fluorescent Adolescent”
The quick, rap-like nature of the verses are aided by the use of short vowels (“I” “E”) and short-sounding consonants like “T” and “K.” The line, “Flicking through your little book of sex tips,” almost sounds like a rhythm played on a high-hat, because of the choice of words.
Tom Waits– “Martha”
The chorus here leans on long vowels to intone nostalgia, “Those were days of roses, poetry and prose and… no tomorrow’s packed away our sorrows and we saved them for a rainy day.” The choice of words echoes a longing and almost sounds like a groan of regretful realization, as per the theme of the song.
Blaze Foley – “Clay Pigeons”
In this soft and low intoned song, Foley utilizes “T” and “K” with short vowels to inject a spot of rhythm in the line, “Gonna get a ticket to ride.” The line, “Start talking again when I know what to say,” lands on a 4 chord which has an unresolved feel, marrying well to the meaning of the line, wherein we hear that the narrator has not yet reached a certain point.
Anna Tivel – “Riverside Hotel”
“Someday I’m gonna laugh about it, looking down from heaven’s golden plain,” moves from the 4 to the 1 and then 4 to 5. “Someday” marries nicely with the unresolved feel of the 4 chord. Ending on the 5 leaves the listener waiting for a resolve, which comes on the root chord in the line: “But for now I’ve found some piece down by the water, just to watch a building rise up in the rain.” This line uses a root chord on “for now” which gives a reassuring, steady feel concurrent with the sentiment.
Anna Tivel – “The Question”
The title of this song in itself sets the listener up for an unresolved feeling. The use of long “A” sounds (razor, saved, saving, hallelujah waiting, raise, etc.) leading up to the line, “A prayer that never mentioned,” works very well, as it sounds like an expectant chant. On the last words, “The glory of the question and the answer and the same,” the word “glory” lands strongly on the sad sounding relative minor chord, while the line ends on an expectant 5 chord. This gives a juxtaposition, the narrator has seemingly answered a question, but also left it open to further thought because of the use of this uncertain chord underneath.
Eminem – “Lose Yourself”
This song is a masterclass in internal rhyme. The lines of the verses are so phonetically intertwined that they begin to sound like the components of a drum kit. This is easy for the human ear to digest even in an unknown language. The fact that the lines make perfect sense narratively is the “icing” achievement.
Tom Waits– “Hold On”
Long vowels in the chorus marry to the meaning of patience and perseverance. In meditation, long vowels are used in calming chants, which is echoed here in the repetition of “Hold on.” This feel is broken up slightly by the words “take my hand” where Waits accentuates the “T” and “K” to give a burst of drum-like rhythm.
Singer-songwriter and musical storyteller Anna Tivel recently stopped by NPR headquarters in Washington, D.C., to perform at the iconic Tiny Desk. Supported by drummer Micah Hummel and Galen Clark on keys, her four-song set showcases her empathetic, tender, and heartfelt style that runs through her entire 2022 release, Outsiders. But her performances are anything but one-note, she teases nuance from each number and complicates the stories within them through emotion and passion and, at times, a beautiful understated tension. The team at NPR Music puts it aptly: “Tivel’s remarkable empathy elevates her folk-based, jazz-touched compositions from mere stories to secular prayers.”
Enjoy Anna Tivel’s Tiny Desk Concert right here, on BGS.
Fun times with our favorite non-duo duo Anna Tivel and Jeffrey Martin. The pair met in the early 2010’s in Portland, bonded over songwriting and have been together ever since. They got together at a time when they were both learning how to tour and they were able to figure it all out as a pair. And yes, they have toured and do tour together and have sung on each other’s records, but there has never been an interest in an official collaboration. In this special interview, they discuss their thoughts and feelings on their partner’s musical style: from how each learned music, to the way they each write songs. They discuss the space they give each other to be alone in creativity and how that space is key to their success as partners.
Anna released her latest album, the acclaimed Outsiders, in 2022 and Jeffrey is currently working on a new record. In fact, Jeffrey is recording his upcoming release in a small shack he built on their property in Portland. He completed the structure just in time for the pandemic to start, which was perfect timing since it meant he had his own space to work outside of his house, and they both had a place to perform their weekly livestreams. Jeffrey is also quite handy and has agreed to build a house for me and don’t think I won’t hold him to it. We have it on tape, Jeffrey. Please enjoy this fun interview with two of my favorite people and musicians.
Artist:Anna Tivel Hometown: Portland, Oregon Song: “Outsiders” Album:Outsiders Release Date: August 19, 2022 Label: Mama Bird Recording Co.
In Their Words: “I wrote ‘Outsiders’ sitting on the floor in front of the TV between fragments of the Apollo 11 documentary. The news was feeling especially dark, full of pain and distorted truths, and watching all that beautiful footage from the ‘69 moon landing hit me right in the gut. For just that one moment in a time of great upheaval, it seemed like everyone paused to look up in wonder at something incredible that humankind was able to achieve for the very first time. When I listened back to the way the song was recorded, all raw and live-to-tape in a circle of good friends, it made me feel weightless and free and I wanted to capture that emotion in video form. I found a cheap old trampoline on craigslist and sewed these ridiculous fluttery red pants with visions of slow-motion flying up high enough to look back from a great distance at the whole strugglesome and stunning thing. Music is so visceral and sensory to me, tastes and images and movement, but I’ve never had the camera know-how or means to bring that dreamworld into being.” — Anna Tivel
Photo Credit: Vincent Bancheri
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