Tag: Artist of the Month

For Chris Thile, Instrumental Music Excels in the Cracks of Language (2 of 2)

Posted on by Editor

Chris Thile has always woven religious references into his songwriting, but never so much as on Laysongs. Recorded in solitude in an old church with just a mandolin and a sound engineer, the new album offers lyrics that question our impulses and references that span the Bible (“Ecclesiastes”), Hungarian composers (a take on Bartok’s “Sonata for Solo Violin, Sz. 117: IV. Presto”), and bluegrass legends (a cover of Hazel Dickens’ “Won’t You Come and Sing for Me”) in service of a higher truth.

Here, in the second installment of a two-part interview, BGS catches up with Thile about co-producing an album with his wife, finding inspiration in good wine, and why great instrumental music should emulate a warm dinner conversation.

Read the first half of the BGS Artist of the Month interview with Chris Thile here.

BGS: Your wife, [actress Claire Coffee], co-produced this album with you. What did that lend to the final product, and how did it influence the process?

Thile: Pretty much since we met, she’s graciously been my unofficial editor. It was high time to just formalize that. [Laughs] When you’re doing something like this — a pure solo record, no overdubs, absolutely nothing between me and your ears — it really helps to have someone involved who is absolutely 100 percent unimpressed with you. She has heard every one of my tricks and can see straight through them, can hear straight through them.

As an actor and someone who’s made a lot of film and television, Claire cuts straight to the chase: “Is this meaning something? Does one and one equal two here? Are we starting somewhere and ending somewhere — and how is the ride between those two points? Are we engaged? Is this clear enough, and does it ever get too painfully clear? Are we leading the witness, are we telling people the punchline before we give them the setup?” I can really gild the lily when left to my own devices. Musically, I can sort of be the guy in the theatre, like, elbowing you — like I’ve seen it six times and I’m like, oh, you’re going to love this part! And so Claire, I think, is so good at being like, “Hey. Don’t do that.” [Laughs]

And perhaps, also, letting you know when it’s warranted.

Right. Sometimes I won’t pull the trigger on what would be a really interesting decision because I’m worried that I’m just swinging too hard. I sort of gingerly put the idea of doing the fourth movement of Bartok solo violin sonata. Thinking, well, this is kind of a bridge too far. I sent it to Claire like, “What if I learned this on the mandolin?” and she was like, “Absolutely. Do that. That’s gonna be amazing.” Which was just so shocking to me! I thought I had probably lost my mind. [Laughs]

It was also her idea to put it after “Salt (in the Wounds) of the Earth.” I mean, I feel like everyone thinks they’re gonna get a big ol’ chance to exhale after “Salt (in the Wounds) of the Earth,” and instead… I mean, think of it like these Peloton instructors: You think, “Surely, surely this is it. Surely this is the hardest I’m gonna have to go.” And they’re like, GIVE ME FIVE MORE ON YOUR RESISTANCE!!

I feel like it’s that kind of move, going from “Salt (in the Wounds) of the Earth” to the fourth movement of the Bartok sonata. It’s as if the demon in “Salt (in the Wounds) of the Earth” just took my mandolin from me. But that’s the kind of perspective someone who loves you—but isn’t taking any of your shit—can help you with, especially someone who also has a deep and wide skill set that is compatible with mine. It was so fun to work with her on that.

You’ve always got multiple projects going. Is there anything you learned specifically from performing in groups and making music in that atmosphere that you feel gave you an advantage when you set out to record an album alone?

The accountability — the musical accountability, artistic accountability — that you feel in a collaborative context is noticeably absent in a solo context, so you need to pick up the slack there. You need to start roleplaying those people in your life who hold you artistically accountable. Thank God I had Claire involved in this project, but on the deep I-dotting and T-crossings that you encounter at every step along the way of the record-making process, I would also assume the role of an Edgar Meyer or Gabe Witcher or a Sara Watkins. I’d tease out a little fake conversation between myself and them, all by myself in the practice room. “In what way am I not being clear enough right now? In what way am I being self-indulgent right now?”

There are so many things that you learn from the people around you. But there are also things that you can learn in the silent retreat of making music solo. There are things that I can take back to each of those projects — things I can take back to Punch Brothers, or Nickel Creek, or the Goat Rodeo Sessions — that I think could be illuminative in those contexts.

Do you enjoy talking about religion outside of your art?

People have such strong feelings about religion. You wanna bust open a conversation, bring up God — like, in a real way. People are gonna quit mincing words and they’re gonna start talking about shit. I love that. I really love talking to people about that kind of stuff, from wherever they are. I find it endlessly instructive in my own journey. I find someone’s total disinterest in it just as interesting as total interest in it. If I bring up God and you’re like, “I don’t wanna talk about that shit, come on,” then I love you for that. Let’s go with that. Let’s talk about that.

And if I bring up God and you’re like, “Ugh, you know what? I was just praying about that this morning, I feel like the Lord brought you to me,” I’m in. Let’s go there. Why do you feel that way? Let’s go there. At this point, I have no reservations about bringing up God. It’s always been an instinct of mine to infuse whatever I’m thinking about with a little of that kind of imagery and language and thought, and so this was cathartic for me to just turn all the taps on and let it run.

You push beyond your own religious upbringing, too — you also included a song, “Dionysus,” named for the Greek god of grapes and wine. What inspired you to write about that figure?

I’m always looking for encouragement, as a human being, about human beings. We see a lot of evidence of our failings right now, and I want to see evidence of our success. Wine — the existence of good wine — is evidence of our success as a species. That is a beautiful relationship with the earth. We have occasionally exploited that relationship, but the best wine comes from the healthiest relationship with the soil. The best winemakers have this beautiful balance of science and mysticism. It sounds silly, but I find the whole thing very inspiring.

Ecclesiastes 2:24 seems like it’s along those lines, too: “Nothing is better for a man than that he should eat and drink, and that his soul should enjoy good in his labor. This also, I saw, was from the hand of God.” Why express that instrumentally rather than through lyrics?

Think about the last great dinner that you had with friends. Could you really, with words, describe to me why it was so great? Could you say, “And then we talked about this” or “Next, we gossiped about that”? When you walk me through that, or when I walk you through the last dinner I had, it’s gonna sound trite. And yet, there was something holy about it, you know? Maybe there was a new person that you sat next to, and you got a little light into a different corner of life that night. But could you say with words what that was? I don’t think you could, necessarily, say what can be so transcendent and transportive about a great dinner with friends. That’s where instrumental music excels — in the cracks of language. What language is incapable of properly expressing, instrumental music steps up and says, “I got this.”

Photos: Josh Goleman

Chris Thile Considers His Community and Christian Upbringing in ‘Laysongs’ (1 of 2)

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For a while, Chris Thile might have been the busiest man in bluegrass. The former public radio host has snagged four Grammy awards and a prestigious MacArthur “Genius Grant,” all the while maintaining his status as a founding member of Punch Brothers, the Goat Rodeo Sessions, and Nickel Creek, collaborating with plenty of other Americana firebrands along the way. But on his latest album, Laysongs, Thile slowed down.

A solo album in the truest sense — it’s just Thile and a mandolin, after all — the album was recorded by engineer Jody Elff at Future-Past, a studio housed in an old church in Hudson, New York. The setting was a perfect match for the religion-influenced album, which ranges from the biblical passages of Thile’s Christian upbringing to mythological ideas about gods and gathering from the Greeks and the Romans. Below, in the first of a two-part interview, BGS caught up with Thile about recording the new album, finding inspiration in memories from his adolescence, and the dearly missed joy of a packed concert hall.

BGS: You recorded this album in a church in upstate New York. What did that atmosphere lend to the album, whether purely sonically to the recording or more generally as inspiration?

Thile: That was such a stroke of luck in a time that felt like it was a little thin on luck overall. [Laughs] We were weathering the earlier stages of the pandemic in Hudson, New York, and someone told me about a church right in the middle of town that had been converted into a studio. I went and checked it out and played a few notes in there and absolutely loved it. It’s not the most awe-inspiring church, but there were stain-glassed windows and very odd paintings that all brought me right back to my childhood.

I never attended a grand, elegant church growing up. This was still a beautiful church, but it was helpful that it wasn’t, y’know, St. Patrick’s in downtown New York — that it had a whole lot of that whole human-beings-just-trying-to-do-the-best-with-what-they-have kind of a vibe. Getting to be there was really helpful in terms of getting into character for the songs that I was recording. So much of the record comes from solitude… Actually, the solitude of the pandemic felt a lot like the solitude of spending one’s adolescence in a church pew.

What do you mean by that?

I spent so much of my adolescent time in church wondering if I was the only person there who was doubting the existence of God, or who couldn’t not think about how attractive the girl two pews over was. “Wait, I’m going to hell now probably, right?” Or, “Wait, is there hell? What is going on?” The pandemic thrust me and a lot of other people that I know back into that sort of lonesome, existential monologue: “Has every single choice I’ve made up to this point been wrong, perhaps?”

The sort of strange dialogue that we have with ourselves late at night started reminding me of those weird dialogues I would have with myself in church. I could well imagine at 16 years old sitting in this pew at Christian Community Church in Kentucky. I could well imagine there was a little angel and devil on my shoulder kind of duking it out. The centerpiece of the record, “Salt (in the Wounds) of the Earth” is very much a grown-up version of that feeling—but you know, also, how grown-up, really? I’m 40 now, and so much of the time, this felt like a rebirth right back into adolescence, smack in the middle of the most awkward period of our lives.

I loved being in that church for all those reasons. It was so easy to put myself in the headspace I was in when I had written the lyrics or when I discovered the power of those songs that I didn’t write that are on the record. It just lent a certain weight to those performances.

Why did it feel like the right time to approach religion specifically here? Was there anything you felt you had to tread carefully around?

If there’s a silver lining of this whole incredibly disorienting and distressing affair, it’s the chance to gain a little context: to have been forced to take a massive step back and to take a look at our lives, whether we wanted to or not. One of the things I saw, in the midst of missing the community that I’d inserted myself into, was that community often ends up acting in ways that are similar to my experience of organized religion.

How so?

A lot of people who grow up with religion and veer away from it at a certain point are veering away from what they — what we — perceive to be a poisonous exclusivity, or habitual exclusionism. I think that’s one of the main turn-offs for my generation on organized religion. You start meeting people who aren’t welcome in the flock, and you start wondering why. Having taken a step back, I see the same kind of exclusionary behavior in my current community. If you take a look at your own community, it’s probably full of people who think a lot like you do, and who feel very similar to the way that you do about whatever’s going on right now, and who live in a very similar way. I worry that we, as human beings, are trading one messed-up thing for another messed-up thing.

I adore community. I love it so, so much. For instance, the Telluride Bluegrass Festival: I feel like those are the high holy days of my acoustic music-making community, and to be deprived of them is so painful. You feel cast adrift, untethered. I can’t wait to get back and I’ll never take that for granted again. But I also want to go back there with my eyes wide open as to whom I have habitually not welcomed into that community. What barriers am I being a part of unknowingly placing between people and that community that I love so much? And what harm is that doing that community?

Tell me about how that harm appears on the record.

There’s a lot in the record about coming together, but there’s also a lot in the record about our compulsive need to compare ourselves favorably to other people. In an effort to feel better about ourselves, we look for someone to feel better than. That’s what “Salt (in the Wounds) of the Earth” is about. I took a look at this thing that had been a big deal for me in my adolescence, The Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis, and I was wondering: What would those demons be up to with me, right now? They would be preying on this compulsive desire to feel good about myself. One of the easiest, dirtiest ways to feel better about yourself is by looking at someone else and going, “Well, I’m better than that guy.”

In “Laysong,” the lyrics mention “drown[ing] out the enemy.” It made me wonder what it is that you consider the enemy — maybe it’s this comparison trap, maybe not — and how you drown it out.

When I wrote that lyric, the enemy was he or they that would talk loudest regardless of whether they had the best idea. “I’m gonna say whatever I have to say louder than anyone is saying anything else, and therefore it will be all that’s heard, and the discussion will be on my terms.” That felt like the enemy. And at that moment, in that lyric, I had to write it. It fit with the shape of the melody. The idea of drowning out the enemy — I couldn’t shake it, even though it’s not what I believe to be right. [Laughs] Hopefully you can get a sense of that in the performance, that it’s coming from an angry and not altogether balanced place. In that moment, I was pursuing the idea of drowning out the enemy with beauty, with restructuring, with anything, really. Let’s get a love song, let’s get a hard-times song, anything but a song about the front page of the newspaper.

The record starts there and ends with the Hazel Dickens song, “Won’t you come and sing for me.” When I get back into the concert hall, there’s no way I’m not ending my solo set with that song, the performance is going to be sincere—especially at the end of all this solitary music-making. [Laughs] But “Laysong” is very much like an altar call for the record. “Here’s what we’re gonna discuss.” Who knows where we’re gonna come out? I know that when I listen to a record, there’s a collaboration that starts there. I would love to imagine that happens when people listen to my records, too—that it starts a conversation. I can’t wait to feel that in the concert hall. No piece of music is done until you [the audience] hear it. And I am so dearly looking forward to that completion of this little bit of work.

Editor’s Note: Read the second half of the BGS Artist of the Month interview with Chris Thile.

Photos: Josh Goleman

The BGS Radio Hour – Episode 209

Posted on by Shelby Williamson

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 bring you new music off of the beautiful new album Outside Child from Allison Russell, as well as bluegrass songs to celebrate springtime, and much more! Remember to check back every week for a new episode of the BGS Radio Hour.

APPLE PODCASTS, SPOTIFY

Kishi Bashi – “Waiting For Springtime”

To start off this week’s roundup, we visit our conversation with Athens, Georgia-based Kaoru Ishibashi, better known as Kishi Bashi, about his new EP Emigrant. When COVID hit, he and his daughter packed into a camper and hit the road, from the southeastern U.S. all the way to Oregon, over a period of several months. Along the way, he fleshed out the songs that became Emigrant through visiting places like the Ozarks, the Dakotas, and Montana, including Heart Mountain: a World War II Japanese internment camp he visited many times during the production of his documentary Omoiyari: A Songfilm by Kishi Bashi.


Reid Zoe – “When I Go”

This new track from singer-songwriter Reid Zoé is, on the surface, a song about dying, but really it’s about all of the questions that come with being a human on earth.

Full Cord – “Right In Step”

With a catchy melodic hook and low-tuned banjo, “Right in Step” is a lovely bluegrass tune full of love, hope, and togetherness – hopefully a respite from the uncertainty of the pandemic.

Sean McConnell – “Price of Love”

It’s been said that everything in this world comes with a price. For Nashville’s Sean McConnell, that price is reflected in loving someone — be it family, friend, or significant other — and the eventuality and certainty of you losing them. Yet still, he suggests, most of us are willing to take that risk for love, to give up our hearts completely. It’s the price that our heart pays for love in return.

The Deep Dark Woods – “How Could I Ever Be Single Again?”

A new song from pan-Atlantic singer-songwriter The Deep Dark Woods was inspired by English folk band Steeleye Span. Featuring Kacy Anderson on fiddle, the tune asks the titular question, “How Could I Ever Be Single Again?”

Sam Robbins – “Raining Sideways”

“Raining Sideways” is one of Sam Robbins’ most-requested songs, a stream of consciousness lyric that’s one of the most raw and authentic he’s ever written.

Lera Lynn – “A Light Comes Through”

A recent episode of The Show on the Road featured a deep dive with silky-voiced, southern gothic-folk songwriter Lera Lynn. Stick around to the end of the episode to hear Lynn introduce her favorite broken-romance number, “So Far.”

Graham Sharp – “Truer Picture of Me”

BGS recently caught up with Steep Canyon Rangers’ banjo player and songwriter Graham Sharp about the release of his new solo record, Truer Picture. We talked about Steve Martin’s influence on the Rangers and Sharp himself, as well as his approach to songwriting, nature inspirations, and the way literature and music coincide.

Our Native Daughters – “Quasheba, Quasheba”

Our Artist of the Month for May, Allison Russell, wrote this song for her many-times-great-great-grandmother Quasheba, who survived being enslaved, being ripped away from everything she knew, the horrible Middle Passage, having her children taken, and more. Russell says her art and a loving community have inspired her to connect with her ancestors and find connection through intergenerational strength, resilience, and transcendence, despite intergenerational trauma and abuse.

Grace Pettis – “Paper Boat”

Singer-songwriter Grace Pettis literally dreamed up “Paper Boat,” a song about coming of age, trying to fit in, and losing our innocence. She’s joined by her producer, Mary Bragg, on tender harmony vocals.

Allison Russell – “The Runner”

We spoke with our May Artist of the Month, Allison Russell, about the inspiration behind and creation of her honest and stunning album Outside Child, including this track “The Runner.” Read our two-part interview here.

Lost & Found – “Wild Mountain Flowers for Mary”

We hope, wherever you’re reading this from, that snow, frost, and the cold are truly retreating, giving way to longer days, warmer weather, and the gorgeous, humid, cicada-soundtracked days of summer. But, before we get to full-blown bluegrass season – and, hopefully, our first live music forays since COVID-19 shut the industry down in early 2020 – let’s take a moment to intentionally enjoy spring with 12 bluegrass songs perfect for collecting a wildflower bouquet, romping and frolicking in the meadow, and pickin’ on the back porch while the evenings are still cool.

Accidentals – “Wildfire”

The Accidentals spoke with BGS on loving and learning from Brandi Carlile, singing on stage with Joan Baez, the magic in meeting strangers and finding common ground, and much more in this edition of 5+5.

Photos: (L to R) Lera Lynn by Alysse Gafkjen; Allison Russell by Marc Baptiste; Kishi Bashi by Max Ritter

Artist of the Month: Chris Thile

Posted on by Editor

Chris Thile found solace during the pandemic in a church — more specifically, a remodeled one that now houses Future-Past recording studio in Hudson, New York, where he and his family were temporarily living in the summer of 2020. “I went in there to look at the space and instantly felt so at home,” Thile said upon announcing his new album, Laysongs. “I loved the amount of sound around the sound. I had two sonic collaborators on this record: the tremendous engineer Jody Elff and that church.”

With a suggestion from Nonesuch Records’ Chairman Emeritus Bob Hurwitz to make a record that was both spiritual and a snapshot of the pandemic, Thile decided to pursue the idea, putting together six originals and three covers with only his voice and his mandolin. In April, he introduced the project with the lead single, “Laysong.” As he noted, “It is a lifelong obsession of mine, even post-Christianity, what the impact of that kind of devotion to any organized religion is.”

Laysongs offers the three-part “Salt (in the Wounds) of the Earth,” which was inspired by C.S. Lewis’s The Screwtape Letters; a song Thile wrote about Dionysus; a performance of the fourth movement of Béla Bartók’s Sonata for Solo Violin; “God Is Alive, Magic Is Afoot” based on Buffy Sainte-Marie’s adaptation of a Leonard Cohen poem; a cover of bluegrass legend Hazel Dickens’ “Won’t You Come and Sing for Me;” and an original instrumental loosely modeled after the Prelude from J.S. Bach’s Partita for Solo Violin in E Major. Thile’s wife, actor Claire Coffee, serves as co-producer.

It’s the latest creative endeavor from the MacArthur Fellow, whose exceptional career spans far beyond his solo work. From Nickel Creek and Punch Brothers to a pair of Goat Rodeo albums and the much-missed Live From Here series, Thile remains one of acoustic music’s most visible figures. You can read part one of our Artist of the Month interview here. Read part two here. Meanwhile, enjoy our BGS Essentials playlist, a tip-of-the-iceberg hint at the remarkable breadth of this masterful musician.

Photo credit: Josh Goleman

With Her Banjo and Best Friends, Allison Russell Delivers ‘Outside Child’ (Part 2 of 2)

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Allison Russell’s first solo album offers an intimate look into her life, yet it’s far more than just her musical vision that elevates Outside Child to one of the year’s most eloquent albums. Working with Dan Knobler in Nashville, she populated the studio with musicians like Joe Pisapia, Jason Burger, Chris Merrill, Jamie Dick, and Drew Lindsay, as well as exceptional guests such as Yola, Ruth Moody, Erin Rae, and the McCrary Sisters. She describes them as her “chosen family,” accompanying her as she shares stories about other families in her life.

Enjoy the second half of our BGS Artist of the Month interview with Allison Russell. (Editor’s note: Read the first half of our AOTM feature here.)

BGS: You can feel that sense of community between the musicians on this record. Can you talk a little bit about what it felt like while you were tracking?

Allison Russell: These songs were recorded in four days. Everything that you are hearing, I sang live with the band. We did it at Sound Emporium Studio A. There’s a lovely, big room with glass doors that you can open up. Everyone was in a semi-circle. It was a magical experience. We would gather in the center of the room and work out an arrangement together and then we would record the song. Most of what you are hearing is the second take. That was sort of when it magically coalesced, when everyone was communing and free flowing.

Dan [Knobler] shares my deep conviction that it is not about perfection. It is about capturing the communication in as honest and as true of a way as you can. That has been my approach ever since working with Joe Henry four or five years ago on a record called Real Midnight. So what you are hearing is a community choosing to come together to uplift these songs. I will be grateful for that for the rest of my life, even if no one ever heard the record. That experience of getting to record that way with chosen family. I can’t imagine a more healing, supportive environment than I experienced.

This is your first solo record and though you’ve made many records with groups, I’m wondering if the feeling of picking the songs and the sounds was different for you as a solo artist?

I don’t know that I really picked them. I think that the songs just poured out. So much of the sound is my community of artists. I would never dream of telling any of those artists what to play. I trust their ears and I trusted Dan Knobler’s ears, who produced the record. And I trusted my own ears too, of course, but really what we did was cast the room with people who we love and trust. What was different is that I’d never worked with Dan before and I trusted him bringing in two of his brothers, Joe Pisapia and Jason Burger to join the family of musical kindred that I’ve been part of. A lot of the artists who played on the record were artists that I’d met over my many years and different projects. …

And then since I moved to Nashville in 2017, I’ve been going to hear the McCrary Sisters and loving them. I really got to know them through Yola, because they formed a friendship at a festival in Scotland and I got to know them through her. I’m a huge admirer of them and their work and their harmonies. I reached out to them thinking I wouldn’t be able to afford them and they were so generous. They came and sang for way less than they are worth and worked within my budget. I was honored that they came. So it was really a matter of casting the room and then letting people shine the way they do.

I read your speech from the [2020] Women’s March [in Nashville]. It is really gorgeous, thought- and emotion-provoking. In it you mention that you are the hero of your own story which is wildly inspiring and important for us all to remember – that there are some things we can save ourselves from. Can you talk a bit about ways in which you save yourself?

I feel like connection with a loving community is what saves me every day. Art and music save me every day. I’ve been a book worm my entire life and I can’t emphasize enough, I don’t think I would have survived my childhood if I hadn’t had the escape of literature. Being able to go into other worlds and other imaginings and literally inside of someone else’s mind and take refuge and find inspiration and comfort and strength. Disappearing into books was the first kind of way that I learned how to try to be brave. It was reading about brave protagonists and people in situations worse than I could imagine. I got very obsessed in my tweens with reading first person accounts of survival of the Holocaust. It put into context what was happening to me, that if people could survive that, then I could survive what I was experiencing.

Being in a community with people that uplift you and see you and value you and you do the same for them, that is life-changing. I have that with my partner J.T. I have that with my sisters in Our Native Daughters. We wrote a whole record together, uplifting each other and bringing forward the perspective of Black women within the diaspora and within the historical record. Our particular demographic is so often left out of any kind of historical record in any kind of first-person way, with agency and lived experience. That has been a source of great strength and resilience.

And then to connect with my ancestors. To delve into all of the history. With all of the intergenerational trauma and abuse, there is also incredible intergenerational strength and resilience and transcendence. The ability to overcome circumstances I cannot even dream of. My many-times-great-great-grandmother Quasheba survived being enslaved. She survived being ripped away from everything she knew, her family and language and home. She survived the horrible Middle Passage. She survived multiple plantations and having her children taken. If she can survive all that, I can get through this.

Do you remember what prompted you to pick up a banjo for the first time?

I was in a band called Po Girl, that was my first baby band and the woman I started the band with, Trish Klein, played the banjo. She taught me my first few chords and I just kept playing from there. I met Rhiannon Giddens in 2006 at the Vancouver Folk Music Festival and I was so excited to meet another Black woman that played banjo, because I was the only one that I knew. She told me about the Black Banjo Gathering, which I never got to attend. I’ve met so many dear friends who were a part of that, like Valerie June. All of us in Our Native Daughters play banjo and that has been a deep communion for us.

I think Rhiannon’s minstrel banjo is one of the most beautiful sounds I’ve ever heard. I’ve adapted my little Americana Goodtime banjo to sound as much like that as I can by adding gut strings and a fiber skin head. I’ve modified the bridge a bit to give it that deeper resonance. For me the banjo has allowed me to access my songwriting in a different way. I’ve noticed this over time as I’ve picked up more instruments. Different songs come through on different instruments and now for me, the banjo has become my primary songwriting instrument.

This album is coming out hopefully at the tail end of the pandemic so I’m guessing some of the songs have not been performed in front of an audience yet. Are there songs you are particularly excited about presenting on stage and on the flip side are there songs you are nervous or trepidatious about presenting to an audience?

Basically none of them. Of course I’ve done some virtual performances here and there of a couple of them. But they have not been played live. I am always nervous about everything. I’m just a very anxious person most of the time. But where that stops, usually, is on stage, when I get to be in communion with my fellow artists and with the people who have come to listen. That is very much a two-way exchange. The answer is, I’ll be nervous about all of it right up until the moment we are playing and then I will be in the happiest place I know.

(Editor’s note: Read part one of our Artist of the Month interview with Allison Russell here.)

Photo credit: Marc Baptiste (top); Laura E. Partain (in story)

Allison Russell Gives a Voice to Queer Folks and Survivors on Solo Debut (Part 1 of 2)

Posted on by Editor

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.

Although she is a member of multiple bands (including Birds of Chicago and Our Native Daughters) and is an accomplished speaker and poet, the release of Outside Child marks Russell’s first solo work as a recording artist. BGS caught up with our Artist of the Month, Allison Russell, from her home in Nashville.

BGS: This is a deeply personal record. What was your writing process like?

Allison Russell: The writing process was having to delve deeply into the most painful parts of my past and childhood and history. 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.

I have tried at different times in my songwriting life to tackle some of that material and I did on various songs with my first baby band, Po Girl, but I didn’t have the same kind of support and stability at home that I have now. I didn’t have the same amount of distance in time from the events and trauma of my childhood. Time and distance, plus boundless unconditional love that I receive from my partner, were really healing to have that collaborative sense on these songs. It is tough. It is hard to contemplate pain and trauma. That is reflected in the macrocosm of what is happening in our world right now. We are dealing with it every day with each news story of violence towards communities of color. …

We have to go into the pain of it or it perpetuates. The cycles self-perpetuate if we don’t take a stand to stop them. That’s what I’m trying to do personally. Art builds empathy and connection and it helps stop cycles of abuse when we really listen to one another and see and hear one another. It is a lot more difficult to practice abuse and bigotry. I believe in harm reduction. I don’t think we are going to achieve nirvana in this lifetime, in this world, but I do believe strongly in harm reduction and that small things can create mighty ripples. That’s why telling our own stories in our own words under our own names is so important because it can provide a roadmap for somebody else going through similar experiences.

I wish my story was unique. It is not. One in three women, one in four men, one in two trans or non-binary folks have experienced stories very similar to mine.

In “Persephone,” you sing about a lover in your youth who was seemingly a refuge from the trauma you were living through. It feels like a really loving tribute to her. Is that a story you’ve always wanted to tell?

It has become more important to me as I get older to honor those friends of our youth and loved ones of our youth and lovers of our youth who helped shape us and in this case, she literally saved my life. And I wanted her to know that. I also wanted to acknowledge that I am a queer person who is now in a straight passing life and marriage. I fall in the middle of the spectrum of orientation. I’ve been in love with women and I’ve been in love with men and I’ve been in love with trans people and I’ve been in love with non-binary people. I wound up falling in love and committing to share a life with a man, my husband.

One could assume that I’m straight, but I am not and especially in this time of increased polarization and bigotry, it is really important that people understand that nothing is black and white. Nothing is simple and you can’t assume that because I am married to a man and I have a child that I am a straight person. You can’t say homophobic things to me and have it pass. Part of me wanted to really acknowledge that publicly. I am grateful. I don’t get to be here singing today and having my child and my family if it wasn’t for that first love. She taught me how to love and that it was possible. She taught me about kindness and unconditional love. She taught me about acceptance, courage and bravery.

I’d love to know about your influences coming up in music.

Growing up, my mom was my first musical influence. She is a beautiful piano player. We had a really troubled relationship, but one of my first memories is crawling underneath her piano and just listening to her play and watching her feet on the pedals and hearing the resonance under the piano and feeling connected to her in that way, even though she didn’t know I was there. It was a feeling like the music she made was a truer expression of her than the often very hurtful words or violent things she did. That was my first sense of understanding the depth of music, that it goes beyond language.

My grandmother taught me lots of very violent, creepy lullabies from Scotland. She knew a lot of old murder ballads and child ballads and she sang me all of those songs. I loved them. That oral distillation of archetypal stories over generations and time, generally very matrilineal and passed down from mother to daughter, I connected deeply with those songs. That was my first sense of the hidden archive of the world.

My adoptive father was very repressive about what we were allowed to listen to. If it wasn’t Baroque or Classical or maybe Romantic, we would get in trouble for listening to modern music. One of the sort of transgressive things that my mom and I sometimes did was listen to Joni Mitchell or Stevie Wonder together. I have such distinct memories of holding the Ladies of the Canyon album and poring over it and reading the back and seeing Joni’s art. That was very formative music for me.

With Tracy Chapman, I was 9 the first time I heard her. I was on a trip with my uncle and I remember hearing “Behind the Wall” and just bawling because we were the family behind the wall. We were the family where there was violence and abuse and the police were constantly being called. To hear someone writing this and have this sense of recognition that this happens to other people and I’m not alone in the world and hearing her voice and her writing and poetry made me feel I wasn’t alone.

And when I left home at 15, my sonic world exploded. There were all these endless possibilities. I’m a huge Staples Singers fan. John Prine, Lucinda Williams, Emmylou Harris, Taj Mahal (particularly Giant Step/De Old Folks at Home). And Mulatu Astatke, who I’ve been obsessively listening to over the pandemic. His music is expanding my understanding of melody and structure. It is ongoing. The influences never stop and I’m influenced by my brilliant peers as well.

Has your daughter listened to these songs with you? What do you want her to learn about you from the music?

She has listened to it. One of the hard things has been having to talk about abuse with my child. I think it is incredibly important. I think that by the time we start to do that in schools, it is often much too late for the children, including me. I’ll never forget in Grade 4, hearing the song, “My body’s nobody’s body but mine,” and for me that had not been my reality since I was 3. What I want her to know is that we are strong enough to live through hard things and come out the other side of it. I want her to know that she is strong enough, in whatever struggles she faces.

I want her to know that her stories are worth telling and her experiences are of value. She is an infinitely strong being and she is part of a whole long lineage of strong women. I want her to know that. And that she is loved so much and a huge part of why I strive to do anything or be any kind of good ancestor is because of her.

(Editor’s Note: Read part two of our Artist of the Month interview here.)

Photo credit: Marc Baptiste (top); Laura E. Partain (in story)

Allison Russell, Gentle Spirit and Whimsical Style

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

I met Allison Russell briefly several years ago during AmericanaFest here in Nashville, Tennessee. Years later on a masked up photoshoot with Yola during the COVID pandemic, I talked with this wonderful friend of Yola’s who introduced herself as Alli. We talked off and on during the shoot and had a wonderful time, only towards the end realizing that we did indeed meet before. That’s the funny thing about masks, I guess!

This particular shoot was the second one we had together within several months. Alli has since become a wonderful friend, and beyond her own ferocious talent and musicalities, she’s a gentle and whimsical spirit. We met in downtown Nashville this spring for our friends at BGS. Enjoy! — Laura Partain

Allison Russell, wearing a dress designed and purchased from Kenyan American-owned Kings and Queens Boutique in Madison, Tennessee.

Allison in her custom Fort Lonesome jacket, which was gifted to her during the 2019 Newport Folk Fest, where she performed with Our Native Daughters.

Once again, wearing the dress designed and purchased from Kings and Queens Boutique.

Allison wears a shiny, rainbow jumpsuit she scored from a local thrift shop in Nashville, Tennessee.

(Editor’s note: Explore more of our Artist of the Month coverage on Allison Russell here.)

All photos by Laura Partain

The BGS Radio Hour – Episode 207

Posted on by Shelby Williamson

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 bring you new music from our Artist of the Month, Allison Russell, an exclusive live performance by Madison Cunningham from BGS’ Whiskey Sour Happy Hour, and much more. Remember to check back every week for a new episode of the BGS Radio Hour.

APPLE PODCASTS, SPOTIFY

Sunny War – “Losing Hand”

Coming out of COVID isolation with fingers crossed and masks on, many artists are releasing new and exciting music. We’re particularly thrilled about Sunny War’s latest release, Simple Syrup. We caught up with the LA-based guitarist and singer for an edition of 5+5 and talked everything — from Elizabeth Cotten’s guitar playing to eating black-eyed peas with Nina Simone.

Ted Russell Kamp – “Lightning Strikes Twice”

Singer-songwriter Ted Russell Kamp originally wrote “Lightning Strikes Twice” in the style of Billy Joe Shaver, as a honky tonk number. But, for his upcoming album Solitaire, he decided to rework the track, bluegrass style.

No-No Boy – “Gimme Chills”

A student of singer-songwriter, multimedia artist, and scholar No-No Boy (AKA Julian Saporiti) once called his song “Gimme Chills” a “fucked up love letter to the Philippines.” No-No Boy agreed. The track is part history lesson and part tribute.

Yola – “Diamond Studded Shoes”

Yola’s roots-pop outing “Diamond Studded Shoes” is a song that explores the divides created to distract us from those few who are in charge of the majority of the world’s wealth. It calls on all of us to unite and turn our focus to those with a stranglehold on humanity.

Dale Ann Bradley – “Yellow Creek”

BGS recently caught up with Kentucky’s own Dale Ann Bradley, discussing her recent album, Things She Couldn’t Get Over — her first release since departing group Sister Sadie. Each of the songs on the project deal with hard times, and finding the courage that gets us through. “Yellow Creek,” a song about the forced removal of Native Americans from their land, finds Bradley giving us a reminder to walk with empathy.

Josephine Johnson – “Where I Belong”

“Where I Belong” by singer-songwriter Josephine Johnson was inspired by characters from British Navy novels set during the Napoleonic wars. Love and high seas adventure, to be sure!

The Wandering Hearts – “Gold”

Inspired by their song “Gold,” The Wandering Hearts created a Mixtape for BGS, entitled The Golden Tonic, it’s a selection of songs that have helped them through tough situations, inspired them, and take them back to specific moments in time. They hope that the Golden Tonic will work its magic on the listener after this heavy and hard year.

Eli West – “Brick in the Road”

In a recent 5+5, multi-instrumentalist and singer-songwriter Eli West discusses the influence of Paul Brady and Irish folk music, understated chaos in visual art, and drunk BBQ with Sting and Mark Knopfler.

Allison Russell – “Nightflyer”

Our Artist of the Month Allison Russell has already made a mark on the modern roots scene through various powerhouse groups, like Birds of Chicago and supergroup Our Native Daughters. Now, she’s stepping out with her first solo record, Outside Child. Stick around all month long for exclusive content from Russell.

Bhi Bhiman – “Magic Carpet Ride”

Bhi Bhiman reimagines iconic rock song “Magic Carpet Ride” in the style of old country blues players – artists like Mississippi John Hurt, Lightnin’ Hopkins, and others who’ve played a huge role in Bhiman’s evolution as a guitarist.

Parker Millsap – “Vulnerable”

Parker Millsap, one of our recent guests on The Show On The Road, is a gifted singer-songwriter who grew up in a Pentecostal church and creates a fiery gospel backdrop for his tender (then window-rattling) rock ‘n’ roll voice.

Madison Cunningham – “L.A. (Looking Alive)”

Last spring, on our debut episode of Whiskey Sour Happy Hour, Los Angeles-based, Grammy-nominated guitarist and singer-songwriter Madison Cunningham kicked off the entire series with an acoustic rendition of “L.A. (Looking Alive).”

Stash Wyslouch – “Lord Protect My Soul”

From bluegrass mad scientist Stash Wyslouch, formerly of progressive string band the Deadly Gentlemen, here’s a traditional number turned upside down, taking a Bill Monroe tune and contrasting it with polytonal backup. Wyslouch told BGS that while he gravitates towards gospel standards in the bluegrass world, his own style drifts to the absurd and unexpected. Like a bluegrass Frank Zappa!

Bob Malone – “The River Gives”

Singer-songwriter and pianist Bob Malone wrote “The River Gives” after the devastating 2016 flooding in West Virginia, but he never had a chance to produce the track like he wanted to – until now!

Marty Stuart – “One In A Row”

Marty Stuart’s new project, Songs I Sing In The Dark, is a collection of twenty songs that he curated that helped him through the tough times that we all saw in 2020. Stuart says this Willie Nelson song has followed him around since he first heard it over twenty years ago. “I think of it as an old friend, same as Willie. It’s a friend for the ages, and an excellent song to sing in the dark.

Photos: (L to R) Madison Cunningham by Claire Marie Vogel; Yola by Joseph Ross Smith; Allison Russell by Marc Baptiste

The BGS Radio Hour – Episode 206

Posted on by Shelby Williamson

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 bring you new music from jam-grass band Leftover Salmon, the debut single from Watchhouse (formerly known as Mandolin Orange,) and so much more! Remember to check back every week for a new episode of the BGS Radio Hour.

APPLE PODCASTS, SPOTIFY

Leftover Salmon – “Boogie Grass Band”

Leftover Salmon has been playing what you could call “boogie grass” for over 30 years now. After their COVID-induced live music hiatus, the founding Colorado jam-grass band brings us a new album Brand New Good Old Days, and this next song celebrates that boogie grass sound that everyone loves.

Avi Kaplan – “Song for the Thankful”

Avi Kaplan brings us a song about finding gratitude and beauty in every realm of life, good or bad. His hope for the listener is that they can “find gratitude in their life regardless of what end of the spectrum they are currently in.”

Peggy Seeger – “Lubrication”

As our Artist of the Month for April Peggy Seeger put it herself, “Folk is full of raunchy songs, but they’re not often sung.” In our recent interview, and on her recent album First Farewell, Seeger ruminates on the joys and sorrows of aging.

Sam Armstrong-Zickefoose – “Heart of Mine”

Sam Armstrong-Zickefoose wrote this song about feeling you’re on the outside looking in. Sometimes even after moving towards the direction of “fitting in,” it’s still easy to feel out of place.

John R. Miller – “Faustina”

John R. Miller is a true West Virginia picker-singer-songwriter if there ever was one. While inspired by folks like John Prine and Steve Earle, Miller is celebrated among the same stature — including by his friend from the same region, Tyler Childers. We mark John R. Miller’s 2021 signing with Rounder Records with “Faustina,” a single that brings promise of a great debut record.

Lady Nade – “Willing”

From Bristol, UK, Lady Nade wrote “Willing” to foster acceptance, loyalty, and friendship. The video was filmed in her hometown along the route of a Black Lives Matter protest last summer. As she explains, “the way the video and song came together portray the message of self, as well as community.”

John Mailander’s Forecast – “Returning”

For fiddler John Mailander, “Returning” captures the collective feeling amongst the musicians in the studio playing together at the time of recording, the rediscovery of connection and joy after so many months of isolation.

Watchhouse – “Better Way”

After more than ten years as the duo Mandolin Orange, burdened by the dichotomy between the name and the music they strived to create, Andrew Marlin and Emily Frantz changed their name to Watchhouse, deciding through the COVID-19 pandemic that the time for change was now, given the growing and soon-to-be opportunities for bands to share their music on a live stage again. Here’s their first single since the change!

Alex Heflin – “Guest Room”

With his new album, Room for Everyone, Alex Heflin intends to highlight that inclusivity in both genre and personality always adds interest and excitement to a medium. In this case, the track “Guest Room” benefits from that approach.

Zach Schmidt – “I Can’t Dance”

Zach Schmidt spoke with BGS in a recent edition of 5+5 on the influence of Guy Clark – and greasy enchiladas! – on facing loss and working through it, spending time with Mother Earth, and more.

Mark Rubin, Jew of Oklahoma (feat. Danny Barnes) – “My Resting Place”

Mark Rubin wrote this old-time bluegrass number inspired by the drive of Jimmy Martin, yet based on a 100-year-old Yiddish poem. He says, “If I’m being honest, I wrote it with Del McCoury in mind as the thought of a 100-year-old Yiddish labor ballad sung on bluegrass stages cheers me to no end.”

Richie Furay – “Go and Say Goodbye (Live)”

Rock and roll legend Richie Furay’s new collection 50th Anniversary Return to the Troubadour celebrates his long career with bands like Poco and Buffalo Springfield — and his connection with former bandmate Stephen Stills’ music remains as strong as ever. Furay has recorded this song, written by Stills, with every band he’s been a part of over a half-century career.

The Rose Petals – “They Say You Loved a Good Man”

“They Say You Loved a Good Man” was written about former president Calvin Coolidge and his wife Grace, but ultimately, it’s a song about regret — living your life with the best intentions, yet still falling short of expectations.

Abby Hollander Band – “Still Got It Bad”

Abby Hollander recently joined BGS for a 5+5 — that is, five questions and five songs — and brought us this tender bluegrass heartbreak tune.

Photos: (L to R) Peggy Seeger by Vicki Sharp; Watchhouse by Kendall Bailey; Avi Kaplan by Bree Marie Fish

Artist of the Month: Allison Russell

Posted on by Editor

Allison Russell has already made an exceptional impression in roots music — first in the duo Birds of Chicago, then as a member of Our Native Daughters. Now with her new album Outside Child, she’s putting her own story front and center. Whether she’s singing in English or French, Russell’s voice feels like satin, comfortable and cool. Yet she weaves some of the most painful memories of her formative years in Montréal into the fabric of her Fantasy Recordings debut.

Special guests on the album include the McCrary Sisters, Ruth Moody, Erin Rae, and Yola. Upon revealing the project, Russell wrote, “This is my first solo album. It is acutely personal. It was hard for me to write, harder still to sing, play, and share. Also a relief. Like sucking the poison from a snake bite. Thanks to the supreme empathy, musicality, kindness, sensitivity, and humour of each artist who brought these songs to life with me, the recording process became — by some mystical alchemy –joyous and empowering…. Eased by loving communal laughter as much as shared tears.”

Specifically pulling from the childhood trauma she experienced at the hands of her stepfather, she adds, “This is my attempt at truth and reconciliation and forgiveness — a reckoning and a remembrance. This is my attempt to be the hero of my own history, despite the shame that has been my closest and constant companion all these years.”

We are proud to present Allison Russell as our BGS Artist of the Month for May. In the days ahead, look for a new performance video, an exclusive interview (read part one here)(read part two here), and a sleek style shoot with this singular artist, who now calls Nashville home alongside her partner JT Nero and their young daughter. Discover more of her musical journey with our BGS Essentials playlist.

Photo credit: Marc Baptiste