Tag: Artist of the Month

Jamie Dailey’s Vision for Dailey & Vincent is Bigger Than Bluegrass

Posted on by Editor

Dailey & Vincent, the Nashville-based band led by Jamie Dailey and Darrin Vincent, is among the most honored acts in all of bluegrass. They’ve won multiple IBMA and SPBGMA Awards, had all nine of their records crack Top 10 on Billboard‘s bluegrass albums chart and, since 2016, they’ve been full-fledged members of the Grand Ole Opry.

Their newest release is 2018’s The Sounds of Christmas, which they’ll be supporting on tour this month. As our December Artist of the Month, BGS caught up with each frontman separately before they hit the road, starting with Jamie Dailey.

(Editor’s Note: Read our interview with Darrin Vincent.)

BGS: Where do you think The Sounds of Christmas ranks in your catalog?

Dailey: Well, it was something seeing it between Michael Bublé and Pentatonix in the Top 10 of the holiday chart, and it stayed up there for several weeks. It really is just about my favorite of all the records we’ve ever done – just the quality of the vocals. It’s bragging, I guess, but it’s the best-sounding vocals we’ve ever recorded, for sure.

I am of course a lover of Christmas music, and also Christmas. I grew up in a very modest family that couldn’t afford a lot, but we always put up a tree and had Christmas lights all over the property. Mom still cooks a big traditional American family Christmas meal. You’d think my mom would be used to it by now, but I like to sneak into her kitchen, highjack her laptop and put something crazy on Facebook. That’s always fun. One time a couple of Christmases ago, her preacher was calling within 10 minutes to ask if she was OK. I could hear her: “WHAT?! Jamie, I am gonna KILL you!”

It’s time for another record, what’s the story on the next one?

We just signed our first country music deal, with BMG, to do a country album. We’ve never done one so we’re very excited about that. We’ve said from day one that we never wanted to be boxed in and we wanted to write and play and sing and record whatever we wanted. We’re working with Keith Stegall, who has produced Zac Brown, Alan Jackson, and a whole bunch of others. We just signed a new TV deal, too, to do a more mainstream TV show than what’s been on RFD all these years.

Out of all the awards you’ve won, which one means the most to you?

Hands down for both of us, joining the first family of country music in the Grand Ole Opry. It’s only 200-some members and 84 of us still living, so it’s very special to be part of that family. We work the Opry six to nine times a month between tour dates, which makes us busy, but we’re happy to be there. It’s always a joy. Hard to explain the feeling you get when you’re there.

Before Dailey & Vincent, you spent almost a decade in Doyle Lawson’s band. What’s the most valuable thing you learned from him?

How to be a constant road professional, and how to be more consistent onstage and not just listen to yourself, but to your fellow bandmates to make up a well-oiled unit. He’s a good man. The lessons were priceless. And if you’ve ever led a group, you also learn things you don’t want to do. As leaders, we all run across those times when you’re trying something that doesn’t work.

You did the IBMA keynote speech last year, on “Branding Bluegrass.” What do you think that is?

We live in the most interdependent age in history. Everyone has the ability to reach more people than ever before. We all have to figure out ways to become more involved. I’d tell young musicians to stay absolutely focused and follow your heart. Record labels and managers are right about a lot, but not always about everything. So don’t allow yourself to be led down a road you don’t want to be on. Be persistent and aware, and learn as much as you can to stay up with what’s going on.

The Dailey & Vincent brand is bigger than just bluegrass, which we make no bones about. We’re gospel and country as well as bluegrass, and we’re happy to do all of that. You can tell from the TV show and the Opry, we’ve tried to diversify our craft to get into buildings we would and could not have before. We’ve been blessed to perform at Carnegie Hall three years in a row, which would not have happened if we were doing only bluegrass.

What do you tell people who want to go into the music business?

The business is changing constantly, so you have to stay on top of that. Living in this interdependent world, it’s like there are a lot more nets than walls and you can reach a lot more people. We’re artists, so let’s make music, let those who like it find it and cater to them.

Some years ago, a lot of bluegrass festivals were kind of stagnating without a lot of growth. So we decided to pull back and go into more venues on our own to draw our own crowds and grow that way rather than getting beat over the head for not fitting some narrow mold. We did not want to be in that box, so that’s some of the changes we’ve made the last eight years — out of 12 going on 13. That’s what we’ve done and why we’ve done it, and it’s had tremendous impact on our career and vision.

Who among your peers do you admire and enjoy?

I love Keith Urban, what a good guy and a great musician and singer. Very creative. I love Norah Jones and Adele, too. The music I listen to ranges all over. Sinatra and Tony Bennett, too. I love orchestras and symphonies, and go to [the symphony] in Nashville when I can, and it’s what I listen to when I’m reading. I love going back to Guns N’ Roses and Journey as well as Conway Twitty. It’s a broad list.

You participated in some diplomatic missions to Germany and Switzerland a bit more than a decade ago. How did that happen?

It was terrifying in some aspects, but I learned a lot from my dear friend now passed, U.S. Ambassador Faith Ryan Whittlesey. We met at Yeehaw Junction, a bluegrass festival in Florida, when her daughter took her. I was with Doyle at that time, 23 or 24 years old, and I’d been praying for the Lord to use me to help my country because I regretted not joining the military.

So we do this show and her daughter came up afterward to say she wanted to meet me. Sure. “Hi, Jamie, I’m former Ambassador to Switzerland, on the U.N. Security Council.” My eyes are getting bigger and bigger. “I need you to travel with me to do some diplomatic work. Use your country bumpkin charm, sing a song here and there, and engage with foreign and business leaders.” I almost passed out.

But she called the following Monday morning and I started flying to D.C. and New York every few months to learn table etiquette, receiving-line protocol and things like that. She was stern and very, very formal. But after she saw how stupid I can act, I got to know her enough to break into her humorous side. I started traveling with her to Switzerland and Germany to participate in some things, which was a wonderful experience I’ll cherish the rest of my life.

Do you have any interest in going into politics someday yourself?

At one time, maybe so. But the more I see of what goes on, especially these days, not so much. I believe I can be more effective where I am in my career than in political office, where you have to deal with incoming fire and problems that weigh you down and keep you from doing things. But I can move in and help without having to worry about the politics and trash that goes on now.

I’ve been asked, but no. Maybe later in life, if a president I can believe in strongly wins and I get involved, maybe I’d consider being Ambassador to another country for a few years. But who knows. There’s a lot to it, and a lot can happen. I may end up dying from too much chocolate.

Illustration: Zachary Johnson
Photo: Erick Anderson

Artist of the Month: Dailey & Vincent

Posted on by Editor

Dailey & Vincent have ventured well beyond bluegrass by paying respect to musical tradition, singing like siblings (although they aren’t), and delivering their signature goofy one-liners. Year in and year out, they bring an entertainment value to their show, whether it’s on a tour of performing arts centers, starring in their RFD-TV series, or appearing at the Grand Ole Opry.

Although Jamie Dailey and Darrin Vincent came from highly regarded bands before forming their duo, they are now certainly trailblazers in their own right. For example, Dailey delivered an insightful IBMA keynote address in 2018 about branding bluegrass. And they have shown the ropes to a decade’s worth of rising talent.

Coming up later in the week, BGS will post exclusive, one-on-one interviews with both Jamie Dailey and Darrin Vincent, shining a year-end spotlight on their remarkable career. In the meantime, please enjoy our brand new BGS Essentials playlist.

Illustration: Zachary Johnson

Brittany Howard Shapes ‘Jaime’ as a Solo Artist, Songwriter, and Producer

Posted on by Editor

Hardly escapable with a presence everywhere from car commercials to the drugstore checkout line, Brittany Howard’s deeply expressive voice permeates our culture. It is a storytelling voice, capable of inimitable gymnastics and invoking multiple emotions simultaneously. Howard’s first solo project, Jaime, shines a floodlight on the fact that she’s the woman responsible for the vision and the creation of this carefully crafted universe.

Named for her late sister, Jaime speaks to Howard’s own family experiences growing up in Alabama and addresses the cultural imprints of the region’s complexity, rife with some of the deepest pockmarks in human history. The album doesn’t so much feel like she’s grappling with that past. More so, it is a comprehension of the impact that it has all had on her own life, like a summit’s view of a past on which she’s built a mountain of a career.

Howard has won four Grammy Awards as a founding member of Alabama Shakes. In January, she’ll compete for two more with “History Repeats,” her latest single from Jaime. Howard spoke to BGS by phone from San Francisco.

BGS: Not only did you write a very personal narrative on this record, but you also controlled it through the production. Were there differences with the recording process from other projects that you’ve done?

BH: I wouldn’t say it is that different from the Shakes just because usually when I was making the music I would just use my laptop to orchestrate everything. Then I’d show the guys and say, “Ok I’ve got this idea. What do y’all like about it? What don’t y’all like about it?” It was the same process except at the end of it, I just didn’t ask anybody what they thought about it.

Was there a difference in the anticipation of the release of this project because of that?

You know, I was really excited to put it out into the world because it was my baby. I didn’t really know what anyone was gonna think. And I honestly didn’t care or pay much mind to it. I was just happy to do something on my own and have that to show for it. It’s just one of those things.

How did the band come together for this? Did you know when you were writing these songs that you wanted some jazz players as collaborators?

I just wanted to play with people I looked up to and had a lot of respect for. Everybody I’m playing with right now, it is just people I’ve always wanted to play with. Nate Smith is my favorite drummer. He’s been my favorite drummer for several years so I reached out to him and asked if he’d play with me. With Robert (Glasper) it was the same thing. It was a level of respect for how they played and why they play and that’s why I got them on the project.

What was the recording process like? Was it experimental or did you have it mapped out?

It was pretty well mapped out. I use Logic to compose a lot of my songs so I just showed up with that. We used a lot of the guitar parts I had pre-recorded and put some new drums on it. Nate came in with drums and Robert came in with keys. It was mostly stuff I had already put down.

What guitars did you play on this record? Similar to what you’ve played in the past?

I just used this old Japanese Teisco guitar that I found at the pawnshop. It looked cool, felt cool. I just stuck to that.

It is widely known that there are astoundingly few female producers. What do you think the biggest barriers are to women in this field in 2019, and did you experience those barriers yourself?

I think probably the biggest barrier is not seeing enough female producers. We know of the most famous female producers. We know of Bjork and we know of Missy Elliot but there are so many other producers out there like Georgia Ann Muldrow that create beautiful music for all of these, especially, R&B artists that we look up to like Erykah Badu. You know there’s always somebody behind the “somebody.”

I think this is the hugest issue. We don’t know about them because they aren’t the ones going up and accepting Best Engineered Album. That’s part of it. And then giving props whenever you can to people like that, because this is our platform, doing interviews like this, to speak the word about people we look up to and are also inspired by. I love being a producer of my own work because when I was growing up I didn’t see enough of it. Still to this day, when I run into female producers and female engineers, I’m just like, “Wow, wow, wow!”

Would you ever produce other acts?

Maybe when I’m older. Right now I don’t really know how to do that. But I never say never.

What do you think it is about that Muscle Shoals, Alabama, area that yields so many artists?

Hmmm. You know, I don’t know. It’s got a colorful history and maybe because it is next to the water. I don’t know.

I’ve asked my dad that question about Mississippi and he says it is because they had so much spare time.

That could literally be it in the south. You finish work and what else you got to do? I think your dad’s got a good point. That’s why I got into music in the first place because I was bored.

Is that how you learned to play guitar?

Yep. I’ve been making up songs since I was itty bitty. Like 5 years old. I first got hold of an instrument when I was 11. I just stayed in my room and learned how to play it. And then when I got bored of that instrument, I’d pick up another instrument and learn how to play that. It was fun. Instant gratification.

Did you start on guitar?

No, drums were my first instrument and then bass guitar. And then keys and then I picked up guitar.

Were your parents supportive of that?

Yeah, they were pretty supportive. They are really supportive now. I think back then they were just like, “Man, what is she doing?” My rehearsal room was right next to my dad’s bedroom. I’d be playing the same thing over and over again for hours. He wouldn’t complain until like 11 p.m. and then he’d be like, “All right, that’s enough. You gotta cut the amps off.” I definitely don’t think they expected all this.

Who were some of your heroes when you were 11 and just starting to play?

When I first started playing, I liked that popular stuff, like anything and everything. I think one of my greatest inspirations was Chuck Berry. He was such a cool guitar player the way he played. And I really liked Bonn Scott from AC/DC. I thought he was a really good frontman, really entertaining and had really good energy. I liked anything I could get a hold of when I was 11. I’d play anything really. I even tried to play metal. Couldn’t do it but I tried. I was just so curious.

When you go from writing back then — when you were a child or when you were still an anonymous citizen — to writing now for an audience that you know is there, does it change the way that you approach writing?

Whenever I start getting bugged out, I just change what I’m doing. Once I think too much about what I’m going to make, that’s when I gotta get out of that headspace. I think the best thing to do is change instead of thinking about, “What am I gonna write about today?” Or “how do I write a song about this?” The best thing for me, in my opinion, is don’t try too hard. Just show up.

Did you approach the process of writing this record differently than you have in the past?

No. Here’s the thing. When you first start a record, well for me anyway…Boys and Girls [Alabama Shakes’ 2012 debut album] was different because we had all the time in the world to make the first record, like they say. But then the second record I was panicked because I was like, “Oh shoot. What if this is a fluke and I can’t do it no more.” There is always this panic.

So then with this record, I was panicking, because I was like, “What am I gonna write about? What’s it gonna sound like?” But I was less worried because I had been there before. So I would just say, I just sat down and quit thinking so much, and then that begat this record.

What would you as a young child growing up in Alabama think of this record?

Oh man, I would have loved it. I would have thought it was so dope when I was younger. But then I’m pretty biased, you know. I would have loved hearing something like that and knowing that a woman made all of it. Just like when I heard those Missy Elliott records and she made all those beats. It was like her child. Timbaland would leave the studio and she would finish the song. Knowing she did all that. Also Bjork. I think it would have been so cool to know.

Do you feel a sense of responsibility with that at all, like you need to be out there talking about that for the next generation?

I think it only helps everybody to talk about it. Like, “Hey, I made this and if you are a young woman that wants to make music how she hears it, don’t let nobody tell you different.” Everybody can have ideas but when it comes to creativity, it’s subjective. It is like everything else, it’s just about how you feel and how you wanna move people. I would say, no searching for perfection. Just search for the best way to talk about your experience and what makes you unique and your individual self. I think that the more you talk about that, the more interested in the music they will be.

Photo credit: Danny Clinch
Illustration: Zachary Johnson

WATCH: Brittany Howard’s Big Sound at NPR’s Tiny Desk

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Alabama Shakes alumnus and Bluegrass Situation Artist of the Month, Brittany Howard has maintained a steady course through her journey in blues and roots music. Driven by a resilient spirit and equipped with a stout voice, Howard has seen her fair share of peaks and valleys. From tragically losing a sister to cancer to breakout success and Grammy nods with Alabama Shakes, Howard has faced more in her 31 years than most of us will see in our whole lives.

After playing founding roles in two other rock bands (Bermuda Triangle and Thunderbitch), she decided it was time to take a step forward and release an album as a solo artist. The debut record was a tribute to Howard’s sister and was also named after her; Jaime was released this past September.

Howard’s addendum to the record offers some insight to the music: “Every song, I confront something within me or beyond me. Things that are hard or impossible to change, words and music to describe what I’m not good at conveying to those I love, or a name that hurts to be said: Jaime.” Brimming with emotion and truth, Jamie is available now, as are tickets to her  tour. Watch her Tiny Desk concert here, on BGS.

Photo credit: Danny Clinch

Artist of the Month: Brittany Howard

Posted on by Editor

Brittany Howard embarked on a road trip to recalibrate after stepping away from Alabama Shakes, the Grammy award-winning band known for anthems like “Hold On.” Those relentless highway miles gave her time to rest before roaring back with Jaime, one of the year’s most compelling new albums — and her first as a solo artist.

The acclaimed project is named for Howard’s late sister, who died as a teenager from a rare cancer, but these songs are all about Brittany Howard, and namely her experiences with racism, sexuality, religion, and other touchy topics that are rarely addressed by artists at the peak of their mainstream popularity.

Not to say it’s all heavy — for example, the breathtaking “Stay High” may be the album’s sweetest moment. The production, which is also credited to Howard, is especially remarkable, as Jaime feels like a unified statement, even as the inspirations run the musical gamut. And of course her electric guitar prowess is ceaselessly stunning.

In her first tour dates behind the record, the Alabama native skipped the Shakes catalog in favor of material on Jaime, along with tracks from her other bands. But for our BGS Essentials, we put ’em all in there. Enjoy this hand-picked playlist from our BGS Artist of the Month, Brittany Howard.

Illustration: Zachary Johnson

Old Crow Medicine Show’s Ketch Secor Learned This From ‘Country Music’ (Part 2 of 2)

Posted on by Editor

In Ken Burns’ documentary opus Country Music, a weaving path from the hollers of Appalachia to Garth Brooks’ theatrical stadium concerts was laid out for all to see. But mapping that trail has always been a complicated, cumbersome task.

The sheer number of influences at play required 16 hours of footage for Burns to tell the story – and lots of help from the artists themselves. One of those artists was Old Crow Medicine Show’s Ketch Secor, who gladly jumped in to tackle the unwieldy narrative of his favorite subject.

Secor had a two important roles to play in the series. Most obviously, he related a lifetime’s study of country’s earliest touchstones and how they combined into something uniquely American. But the outspoken frontman was also tapped in the beginning of Burns’ process as a behind-the-scenes consultant, helping guide the project’s tone and ultimately delivering one of its final and most powerful lines.

“It’s almost like [country music] needs to be exhumed, and new life breathed into it,” Secor proclaimed. “The part that is the songs of the people, the hopes and aspirations of the people — the pain and suffering of the people — that needs to remain embedded in country music. If it isn’t there, I’m out.”

Backstage at the Grand Ole Opry House on the night the series premiered, Secor explained what the project meant to a history buff like himself, and how Burns unwittingly played a role in Old Crow’s founding.

BGS: Old Crow Medicine Show’s music has always shined a light on the past. What made you interested in that to begin with?

Secor: I was always interested in history, and I really attribute that to Ken Burns – I saw The Civil War when I was 11 years old. I lived in the Shenandoah Valley, and I wondered why the kids went to Robert E. Lee High School and why we played Stonewall Jackson, why the name of the shopping mall and the subdivision and the motel was what it was — it was all the war. It was everywhere, and we took some field trips but I didn’t really understand it. I could feel this echo, though. Seeing that movie on PBS really helped me to take this tour of my own backyard and see how history was alive. I credit that to him.

Knowing how deeply you care about country music’s history, what did you think when you found out Burns was going to present it?

I thought immediately, “Thank God. Finally somebody is going to tell our story and get it right.” I don’t trust any of these people to our story [gestures to photos Opry stars dotting the dressing room walls] because they’re all right in the middle of it. Everyone here has a very, very different story, and everybody has “The True Story” — but only their truth. Country music is richer than any one truth, so it takes an outsider’s perspective because of Nashville’s tendency toward this clan-ishness, the good ol’ boys network and these sorts of forces.

I mean, we’re the genre that has told its own history ever since it started. The radio charts today are full of songs about the good old days — and they’re talking about the ‘90s. That’s the good old days now. But it doesn’t matter, whatever the good old days were, the ethos here is that times ain’t like they used to be, they used to be better. That’s what they’ve been selling from the start, but they can’t tell our history without making it a commodity. So it takes this outsider, and you can’t ask for a better outsider than America’s most beloved documentarian, because he was the outsider who told us how jazz was born and flourished, how baseball was created, the Roosevelts, the National Parks, the Brooklyn Bridge. Country music is just as important as all that.

What did they actually ask of you?

I talked about slavery and the plantation system, the penal system — because incarceration was a great cultural conversationalist. It kept people locked up in isolation, which is one of the keys to making country music so rich. How long did the Scotch-Irish people live in Appalachia before being disturbed? Well, the great disturbance comes in Bristol in 1927. The record companies came in and said “Whaddya got?” And what they had was so specific to one region that it might sound different one holler over.

Then I talked about the Opry, and then I tried to talk about more New Age-y hip-fangled things, but they didn’t use any of that [laughs]. The other way I’ve been involved is by being an advisor to the film, so I read all the early scripts for the past eight years. But it was great, they just asked me, “How would you tell the story? Where was the birth? Who was important to mention?”

This has been in the works for eight years?

Yeah, he conducted like 140 interviews, and of that maybe 50 or 60 of his interviewees have died. See, the other thing about Ken is he knows when it’s time to tell a story, and by doing the story when he did, he was able to get Little Jimmy Dickens, Merle Haggard, numerous artists who wouldn’t be here — George Jones is in this film.

Did you get surprised by anything?

Oh yeah, a trove of knowledge is in this documentary, I learned a ton. And lots of things made me cry. What I learned primarily was a real self-reflective thought of, “Oh my God, this is my life.” I think almost all of these folks on the wall are in the movie, and when they watch they’ll be crying, too, because they’ll see themselves in the Bristol Sessions. They’ll see themselves at the earliest days of the Grand Ole Opry, they’ll compare themselves to the Outlaw movement and the traditional movement of the ‘80s, the development of the star system, and contextualize their own career.

You talked about isolation. We’re in this weird moment where country is more popular than ever, but rural life is changing fast. It’s easy to connect with people all over the world. How does the film address that?

One of the things that’s great about the film is that it stops around 1996, because Ken Burns isn’t a journalist, he’s a documentarian. He’s not making a movie about today, and here’s why: Historians say you’ve gotta have a generation pass before you can tell what happened. I just think it’s gonna go a lot deeper than anybody could say right now.

Like if you told the story of why Randy Travis mattered in 1986, it would be a lot different. And also the forces that are at play in country music, they need time to gestate for us to understand what they’re saying. Who’s gonna last? Who are we going to be talking about in 25 years? Blanco Brown? Chris Stapleton? Who’s gonna have their picture on this wall in 25 years? I don’t know.

Editor’s Note: Read Part 1 of our interview with Old Crow Medicine Show’s Ketch Secor.

Photo credit: Crackerfarm

Old Crow Medicine Show: “Time to Start Doing Exactly What We Feel Like Doing” (Part 1 of 2)

Posted on by Editor

I can still remember the first time I saw Old Crow Medicine Show live. It was a sweltering summer night in Nashville around 2008 (back before the bachelorettes and Bird scooters) and they played from a massive barge moored at Riverfront Park. The thing was huge — far too big for six skinny street musicians to budge — but I swear it moved while they stomped and hollered, the Cumberland rolling by lazily behind them.

I was familiar with the band and already loved the unapologetic mix of tradition and edgy intensity, but that live show was revelatory. It gave me a new appreciation for the sense of community Old Crow was trying to forge, so it’s always surprised me that they didn’t record live albums. That has finally changed with this month’s release of Live at the Ryman.

Backstage at the Grand Ole Opry House on another hot summer night, front man Ketch Secor spoke with BGS about the project, why Old Crow is just now getting around to a live album, and what their style of music needs most right now.

BGS: Part of the idea of this album is that Old Crow has played the Ryman over 40 times. For a band that started out busking in the Northeast, how does it feel wrap your head around that?

Ketch Secor: Actually, I wish I had a real count because Lord knows I’ve played there more than 40 times. I think that’s how many times we’ve headlined, but if you add them all up I bet it’s a triple-digit number. We’ve been openers there for Dolly Parton back in 2002 for, like, a daytime show. We’ve done a lot of film and television there, all kinds of awards shows. It always felt like the place to shoot for — it’s the moon, the Ryman Auditorium, and we were always a shoot-for-the-moon kind of band because we figured “Well, we’re not supposed to be here anyway, so we might as well try and go as far with it as we can.”

You self-released one live album in 2001, and then nothing else until now. Why did it take 18 years to do another, since the live show has always been the foundation of what you guys do?

Oh, I think because we’ve always tried to put out a new studio record every couple of years, and here at the 21-year mark it’s probably time to start doing exactly what we feel like doing.

You haven’t been doing that the whole time?

Nah, not with those studio records. There’s a lot of stuff you’ve gotta do. Yeah, we always did it “our way” in the fact that we always played our own music. But just being in the music business means doing it everybody else’s way.

So you had to make a few compromises here and there?

Oh yeah, there was a lot of playing the game in ways that never seemed to pan out, but it never stopped us. That was just the way it was, and we were impressionable, so that’s what we did. We did it the way we were advised to do it.

Can you elaborate a little?

Like playing Napster. Doing shows for radio programmers in L.A. who never played us. Trying to make videos for CMT that were never in rotation, ever. …Opening up for Carrie Underwood at [Country Radio Seminar], it’s like, “What were we doing there?” Those guys, they might have liked it, but they were never gonna play it. And I don’t care if they like it, I want them to fucking play it, or I don’t want to play that show.

So now that you feel freed up to do it your way, what’s that look like?

Live at the Ryman. Here we are singing a Merle Travis song! Here we are singing our songs or selling popcorn and tickets and people brought their buck-dance shoes! I mean, we’ve set beer records at the Ryman. I’d rather sell beer at the Ryman than sell records! …I’d rather sell beer at the Ryman than digital streams! What’s the fun in that?

“Tell it to Me,” “Methamphetamine,” those are interesting songs to present because rural America has a new drug problem going on with opioids. Why is it important for you guys to sing songs like that, especially at the Ryman?

Well, “Tell It to Me” was recorded in Johnson City in 1928 I think. The band that brought that song to the studio had been an original backing band for Jimmie Rodgers… Anyway, I’m just saying this because if you like country music, you should probably know that drug songs have been part of the canon since recording studios first illuminated a red light bulb and said, “You’re on.”

I don’t think people do know that. We’re just now starting to get radio songs with pot references that people don’t flip out over.

Yeah, I mean it was blow in the ‘20s and now it’s pot in the 2010s. And then “Meth” is a really different kind of song because it’s more topical. We recorded it a long time ago but it seemed important to bring it back and revamp it, make it more intense, and Charlie Worsham plays some really great electric guitar on it. It just feels like it’s knocking on your door, like a hurricane.

Tell me about doing “Louisiana Woman, Mississippi Man” with Margo Price.

We were down in Oxford, Mississippi, doing a show with Margo. She was opening up for us down there near Ole Miss, and we were looking for a song that seemed to fit, so we tried that one. Our duo thing felt really good, and I feel like I’m a little bit in the Conway range — and she’s definitely in the Loretta range — so it worked out pretty good. We heard the playback we thought it sounded great so we wanted to put it out. I saw her at the grocery store the other day and she said she loved it.

Why did you include a song like “C.C. Rider,” which has Lee Oskar playing harmonica?

I really love his band War. We did “Lowrider” onstage at the Ryman, too, maybe that will come out on Volume 2. But what I really loved about that moment on the Ryman recording is that it has twin harps. You know the old guys don’t have their pictures up here [gestures at photos of Opry stars on the dressing room wall]. …But the story of the twin harp playing of the Crook Brothers — Herman and Louis Crook — lives a long time, because Herman and Louis lived, like, into their 90s. What they were great at was two harmonicas playing in unison.

That’s interesting. In your music you’re often looking to the past for inspiration, but what do you think is the future of string bean …. er, string band music, Americana?

You just answered it, man. We need a new Stringbean. Nobody’s acting like that and that’s what’s missing. Who’s gonna be the clown? What happened to the kind of entertainment that’s self-effacing? Everybody on this wall loves the clowns, but none of them are. They’re “the vocalists” and we’re supposed to take them seriously. I’d love to see this genre — whether it’s country or Americana or whatever — just not take itself so damn seriously. Let’s just have a grand ole time. Let’s poke some fun at each other, and especially at ourselves. I’d love to see that.

Editor’s Note: Read part 2 of our interview with Old Crow Medicine Show’s Ketch Secor.

Illustration: Zachary Johnson

Artist of the Month: Old Crow Medicine Show

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From their earliest days of busking and playing to capacity crowds at the Station Inn, Old Crow Medicine Show has shown they know how to pull in a crowd. Now they’ve captured that raucous, captivating energy in their newest release, Live From the Ryman, recorded during the group’s numerous headlining performances at the landmark Nashville venue.

The band has seen its share of setbacks and lineup changes over the years, but their catalog is surprisingly limber. In other words, the songs from Eutaw and O.C.M.S. blend seamlessly with tracks from newer releases like Remedy and Volunteer.

It’s a testament to the vision of band founder Ketch Secor, who tells BGS, “If they had tried to stop us a long time ago, they probably would have been able to, but they never tried. We were never curtailed. We were asked to be quiet and to clean up, but nobody ever said ‘no’ enough times for us to pay attention.”

Look for a two-part interview with Old Crow Medicine Show coming up on BGS this month, and enjoy our Essentials playlist.

Photo credit: Crackerfarm; (L-R): Charlie Worsham, Cory Younts, Critter Fuqua, Ketch Secor, Joe Andrews, Morgan Jahnig

Ken Burns, Vince Gill Discuss ‘Country Music’

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For the most dedicated country fans, the moment has finally arrived. The 16-hour documentary Country Music is complete and headed to PBS stations on Sunday, September 15. Across eight episodes, filmmakers Ken Burns, Dayton Duncan, and Julie Dunfey tell the story of country music from its beginnings through the mid-1990s

On Today, Burns stated, “This is American history firing on all cylinders. It’s who we are. It’s another way to see the complicated 20th century, and it’s also for today a time where we can bring ourselves together. Country music reminds us we’re all the same boat together. The themes of a country song are the themes of human experience, of love and loss — two four-letter words that most of us are uncomfortable with.”

He added, “You know, we disguise it and say it’s about good ol’ boys, and pick-up trucks, and hound dogs, and six-packs of beer. That’s a small, tiny, little sub-genre. When you hear ‘Go Rest High on That Mountain’ by Vince…. He says, ‘At the end of the day, all I ever wanted from music was to be moved.’ Country music at its heart is telling us about basic human experiences, and that we’re all together in this. It’s only us, there’s no them, and that’s good medicine right now.”

Asked about the evolution of country music, Gill responded, “I think if you’re going to do a comparison, you have to do all music. It’s not fair to just take country music and say only country music has changed. Because jazz has changed, rock ‘n’ roll has changed, rhythm and blues has changed, there’s hip-hop, there’s rap. Every kind of music has found a new way to communicate with people. And we’re no different.”

He continued, “We are so grateful to Ken and Dayton and Julie for taking this on. And from my viewpoint, finally giving us some dignity and some respect that we have longed for ever since we started making this music.”

Vince Gill Looks Back on His Bluegrass Years (Part 2 of 2)

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In the second half of our interview with Vince Gill, the country legend reflects on his bluegrass history, explaining how he became interested in the music, what he learned by listening closer, and why it led to one of his most famous songs.

Editor’s Note: Read the first part of our Artist of the Month interview with Vince Gill.

BGS: “Go Rest High on That Mountain,” in my opinion, is going to live forever. And I think the bluegrass audience loves hearing Patty Loveless and Ricky Skaggs sing with you, too.

Gill: You know, I wouldn’t have been able to write that song if I hadn’t played bluegrass music and learned the structure of that music and how it works — and the emotion of it. Bluegrass music is so honest and so real. Some of those morbid murder ballads and the saddest of the sad songs are what I love most. Give me “Mother’s not dead. She’s only a-sleepin’. Patiently waiting for Jesus to come.” That’s about as good as it gets. “The Little Girl and the Dreadful Snake.” I could just go on and on and on.

All these tortured songs, but you know they’re real life. They’re not somebody going, “How can I slip one up on the world and make a bunch of money having a big hit record?” They’re so honest and real. And the fact that my past had so much to do with Ricky and Patty, they were the only two people that I would’ve consider it singing on that song.

I still love it when Patty comes to do the Opry.

There’s a really unique thing that happens when our voices sing together. It’s so… obvious. I sang on her very first record in the early ‘80s. I sang on her first hit record and she sang on my first hit record. So it’s my little sis.

Tell me about how you found bluegrass. Was there an entry point for you?

Yeah, I knew of it because my dad played the banjo a little bit. He never could figure out the three-finger, Scruggs-style banjo. He cussed Earl his whole life because he couldn’t figure it out. He played more of a folky banjo. Not drop thumb, not old-timey, but more of a frailing kind of banjo. So I was always around the music, as best I can remember, forever. There were obviously the Flatt & Scruggs things from The Beverly Hillbillies that were in everybody’s DNA. Then I was playing mostly in rock bands in junior high school and high school.

A kid named Bobby Clark was the one that really got me pointed towards bluegrass. He had a little band in Oklahoma City and his father was a repairman. I had broken the string on my dad’s banjo, messing around with it, and I didn’t know how to change it. So I took it to Charlie and he put a string on it pretty quickly and everything was fine. I wasn’t gonna get my butt kicked. Then I started talking to Charlie, and he says, “You play music, don’t you?” And I said, “Yeah, I love to play. I play electric guitar and play in rock bands and stuff.” He goes, “My son Bobby is a really fine mandolin player and plays bluegrass. You ever played any bluegrass?” I said, “No.”

They stuck an acoustic guitar in my hands and Bobby said, “We just had our lead singer leave the band and we’re looking for a singer.” So they did a pretty good job of raising me and teaching me and showing me how bluegrass worked. I played in their band for the last couple of years of high school. Then in another bluegrassy kind of band called Mountain Smoke. And I started playing all the festivals down around Oklahoma and Texas and Kansas. And ran into all the people that I’ve known in my whole life since I was 15, 16 years old.

Wasn’t that how you met Cheryl White [from The Whites]?

Yeah, I used to carry her bass around the festivals. I always had a thing for the girl bass players for some reason. There was another family band from Missouri called the Calton Family. Got sweet on Brenda. Then I got sweet on Cheryl. And she says I should’ve picked a harmonica player. [Laughs]

Those were such fun days and innocent. I loved the camaraderie that went on in that music. Not only with the people that came to the festivals, but the musicians. Everybody jammed together. There wasn’t a whole lot in it for anybody. Everybody was just kind of getting by. It was amazing, as I look back, what it did for me in the way that I respected other musicians and listened to other musicians. It was really important that I had a lot of that in my past. I haven’t forgotten it.

When I first heard bluegrass, I was just blown away by musicianship of it.

Yeah, I mean Stuart Duncan was as great as he was at 12 or 13. So was Mark O’Connor when he was 12 or 13. And Marty and Ricky and Jerry and on and on and on and on of these wonder kid pickers. Unbelievable. I kind of squeaked in because I could sing a little bit and figured out how play as I went. I kind of played whatever was left over in a lot of the bands I was in, and that was fine.

I saw you play mandolin on quite a few songs when you played Bluegrass Nights at the Ryman. What is it about that instrument that you really enjoy?

I think the mandolin is the most important drive of a bluegrass band. The banjo and that are the two most definitive sounds. In bluegrass, mandolin players are like the drummer, even more so than the guitar player to me. It’s that backbeat and driving it. Sam Bush was a great teacher of how you drive that music, you know? I loved the ferocity and intensity that he played with. When he played, that was powerful to watch as a 15- or 16-year-old kid.

That’s what I like. I like making it dance. I liked the importance of playing that instrument in bluegrass. I’m probably a much better guitar player in bluegrass than I am a mandolin player. But in some bands I had to play banjo. Sometimes I had to play, unfortunately, fiddle on a few things. Terrible! I played Dobro, I played everything. I played bass with Ricky’s band for a minute and then got to play some other instruments, but had a love for all of it. I still do. Probably I love it more now because it reminds me so much of my early days, and those first forays into learning about playing music.

Did Dobro come naturally to you?

It all kind of did. I mean, I put in the hours and I practiced hard. The neat thing was, you had such good people to learn from. I always had big ears and could always hear well and find what I was hearing in my head, figuring out how to play it.

There are so many brother duos that came up in bluegrass. Do you think that rubbed off on you with your harmony singing now?

Absolutely, yeah. I was trying to either be Ralph Stanley or Phil Everly or Ira Louvin or whoever. Don Rich and Buck Owens should’ve been brothers. I was a high singer so bluegrass was a natural fit. There have always been predominant high singers that were the focal point. Whether it was Ralph and Carter or whoever, man, that was a blend. You didn’t understand it when you were 15 or 16, what it was that made that blend so beautiful. It was the blood, you know. The DNA was the same.

I didn’t get to experience that until my oldest daughter was 18, 20 years old and we started singing together. I started calling her my little Everly because I’d spent my whole life trying to be Phil. You know, singing the high parts for everybody else, and blend perfectly, and every nuance they did, I’d do. And I’d just want ‘em to think I was related to ‘em. She wound up naming her daughter Everly because of that, because I called her my little Everly.

But yeah, I love sharing music. I love the collaboration of music more so than I like it by myself. It’s not as interesting by yourself, but when you get to play off somebody, and play with somebody, it’s very powerful.

Photo credit: John Shearer