The world of Austin’s Matt the Electrician, AKA Matt Sever, is quirky and sincere. Sever is known for his work ethic and vibrant presence in the Austin, Texas music scene. Before music was full-time for him, Matt worked as an actual electrician in between folk music gigs and open mics. He found people were drawn to his skills in the trade, so he decided to make it part of his musical moniker. After self-releasing eleven studio albums and a couple of live sets, the name remains – even though he has not been a professional electrician for a long time.
In this episode of Basic Folk, Matt discusses his new album release, The Ocean Knocked Me Down, and shares insights into his songwriting process and the unique creative writing techniques that keep his music fresh. We learn about his experiences with the independent music community, performing live, and the joys of music discovery in the ’90s through alternative music magazines like Puncture Magazine.
Matt also opens up about the evolving landscape of music marketing strategies, reflecting on his journey from traditional methods to the more creative approach he employs today. For instance, Matt’s been conducting fake interviews on his social media between himself and Spotify, Facebook, and Rolling Stone that are hilarious. Also he reminisces about the excitement of finding new music back in the day and talks about his favorite snacks – like carnitas tacos and the benefits of black coffee – that clearly fuel his creativity.
(Editor’s Note: BGS is proud to announce the addition of Only Vans with Bri Bagwell to the BGS Podcast Network! Read more about our newest podcast coming on board here.)
Live from the legendary Saxon Pub in Austin, Texas, Only Vans host Bri Bagwell sits with friend and BMI’s Executive Director of Creative in Texas, Mitch Ballard. They discuss what BMI is and why it’s important, along with the constantly evolving nature of the music business and what BMI is doing to keep up and help artists.
(Editor’s Note: Below, singer-songwriter and filmmaker Scott Ballew reflects on his relationship with legendary Texan musician Terry Allen for an exclusive BGS op-ed. Ballew, who directed a 2019 documentary about Allen’s life and music, Everything For All Reasons,will release a brand new album, Rio Bravo, on March 29 via La Honda Records.)
I moved back to my hometown of Austin, Texas in 2016 after 10 years of treading water in LA. California never felt like a permanent home to me, but over the course of a decade out there I was finally able to become ME. Part of that process was accepting that I was, in fact, a Texan and learning how to celebrate that.
Terry Allen’s cult album, Juarez, was reissued in 2016 around the same time I crossed state lines. It was given to me by a friend as a welcome home present. At the time, I embarrassingly only knew of Terry as the man who wrote “Amarillo Highway” as covered by Robert Earl Keen. Juarez was the first record I put on my turntable once I finally set everything up in my new south-Austin house, and it stayed there for four years. I was doing a lot of traveling back then making documentaries, and Terry’s voice traveled with me as “Cortez Sail” and “Dogwood” blared through my rental car speakers while driving through New Mexico, Colorado, Montana, and beyond.
Where had this been all my life? Was this written specifically for me? Who is Terry Allen? And how can I find him?
After a few years being back in Austin, I started a songwriting documentary series with Ryan Bingham. As the format started to take shape, we began talking about potential guests and Ryan casually mentioned he was very close with Terry and that he might be a great option. Holy shit. There wasn’t another name on the planet he could have mentioned that would have made me more excited than Terry’s.
Making The Midnight Hour was the first time the adage “don’t meet your heroes” proved to be false for me. Terry was kind, genuine, and funny. Terry reminded me that it’s ok to be Texan. And it’s ok to be creative.
Other things I’ve picked up from Terry along the way are:
The audience is irrelevant.
You have to fight for love.
Take care of your Art and your Art will take care of you.
You can have more than one calling.
Be kind.
I went on to make a longer documentary about Terry called Everything For All Reasons. I learned more about him during that process and came out liking him even more (not the case with most film projects). I tried to get David Byrne to address how unique and creative Terry was and David chose instead to focus on Terry’s family life, as that seemed more unique to him than anything else these days. He was right, and that ended up being the heartbeat of the entire film.
L: Scott Ballew, Terry Allen, and Ryan Bingham. R: Terry Allen with Scott Ballew.
At this point I like to think of Terry as my creative Godfather and someone I can always reach out to when I need a nudge to have some guts and do the right thing. He is the sole reason I started writing songs and why I had the naïve confidence to follow through and actually record them. Thank you Terry, for everything.
All photos courtesy of Scott Ballew. Lead image by Greg Giannukos.
Sarah Jarosz is what happens when young women are taken seriously. A huge part of the mandolinist’s story is that she had supportive male mentors and that has added to her confidence. We all know the age old story of “Young woman shows promise, gets exploited by the patriarchy and it affects her work.” We need to hear stories like this. Starting in her hometown of Wimberley, Texas, just 45 minutes outside of Austin – the live music capital of the world – Sarah found the mandolin at 10 years old. Labeled a prodigy, and thanks to the encouraging spirit of folk music, she found mentorship with seasoned professionals like David Grisman, Ricky Skaggs, Tim O’Brien and Béla Fleck. Following her time at The New England Conservatory of Music, she moved to New York and would go on to collaborate with people like Chris Thile in the Live From Here House Band and her trio I’m With Her, featuring Aoife O’Donovan and Sara Watkins, and won four Grammys.
After making the move to Nashville, on her latest album, the very impressive and sonically expansive Polaroid Lovers, Jarosz collaborated with producer Daniel Tashian, which originally was just a low-stakes co-writing project. The success of her first co-writing experience with Daniel led her to pursue other songwriting sessions with Ruston Kelly and Natalie Hemby. The collaboration found on the record has opened Sarah up to new sounds and new experiences. In our conversation, we talk about Sarah stepping into her own voice with confidence on this record and knowing her musical self enough at this point in her life. She describes her experience with confidence using the Dunning–Kruger effect, in which people with limited competence in a particular domain overestimate their abilities. AKA “fake it till you make it,” AKA “leap and the net will appear.” She also talks about her parents’ influence on her early musicality and how her mom is doing with her cancer remission. An overall theme of this conversation is that Sarah never lost sight of her goal: Keep it all about the music and don’t let noise get in the way of your important work.
Just last week on October 28, PBS and Austin City Limits aired Molly Tuttle & Golden Highway’s debut performance on the prestigious, long-running series. Now, fans can watch the full episode – which also features country singer, songwriter, and activist Margo Price – for the next four weeks via this link.
Our friends at ACL were kind enough to bring to BGS and our readers these two exclusive performance videos from Tuttle’s fiery and energetic performance. Fresh off their packed and buzz-y Road to El Dorado tour, Tuttle and band – featuring Shelby Means (bass), Kyle Tuttle (banjo), Dominick Leslie (mandolin), and Bronwyn Keith-Hynes (fiddle) – showcase the blistering and effortlessly tight ensemble they’ve crafted together after nearly two-and-a-half years of performing together. Their set on ACL (full set list below) will be certain to introduce countless new fans to what’s one of the fastest rising groups in all of roots music, let alone bluegrass.
“El Dorado” begins with Tuttle’s gritty guitar and powerful right hand, telling a story from her Bay Area homeland, which features heavily on her most recent album, City of Gold. “San Joaquin” is a careening, forward-leaning train tune that’s always perfectly under control, even while it feels as though, at any moment, the locomotive may be launched from her rails. But what is perhaps most impressive about Tuttle & Golden Highway is the combination of their loose, in the moment vibe and their absolute, minute control.
Tuttle’s vocals are at some times soaring and crisp at others fierce and on the verge of breaking, demonstrating the passion and power she’s always infused into her nuanced and striking lyrics – and her fine-tuned cudgel of a right hand. Before closing her appearance with “San Joaquin,” Tuttle doffs her wig – she’s been continually open and honest about her life experiences with alopecia – backing up the devil-may-care nature of her music and band with an attitude to match. It’s part of what makes her particular brand of bluegrass so engaging.
Artist:Matt the Electrician Hometown: Austin, Texas Song: “Do You Believe In Love” Album:Do You Believe In Love/Walking on a Thin Line Release Date: October 6, 2023
In Their Words: “Growing up in Sonoma County in the early ’80s, Huey Lewis & The News were a really big deal, they were hometown heroes. And though the album Sports contains the bulk of their hits, and was much beloved to be sure, the first hit from the album Picture This was huge! ‘Do You Believe in Love.’
“It popped back into my head a few months back, and I couldn’t get it out. I became obsessed like I was 11 years old again. And I wanted it to be covered. And I wanted it to be a covered by a bluegrass band. But I couldn’t convince anyone I knew to do it. So I just had to do it myself. And so, purely for the fun of it, I enlisted the help of some of my favorite pickers here in Austin, Texas: Tony Kamel (guitar, vox), Trevor Smith (banjo), Noah Jeffries (fiddle), and Andrew Pressman (bass), and I went into the studio, and recorded both ‘Do You Believe In Love’ – and a version of ‘Walking on a Thin Line’ from Sports as a B side for the ‘digital 45.'” – Matt the Electrician
“He was exceedingly cool and easy,” long-time Bill Monroe bassist Mark Hembree remembers about Willie Nelson’s presence at a 1983 recording session where Nelson sang and played with Monroe. “I never had a say in Bill’s mixes, but they had Willie’s guitar way up and as we listened to playback he mentioned it, then turned and asked what I thought,” Hembree wrote in a recent exchange of messages. “I agreed, a little surprised he would ask me.”
People who hear about Willie Nelson’s latest album, Bluegrass, before hearing the music might ask, “Wait, what? What does Willie Nelson have to do with bluegrass music?”
Upon listening, at least two answers come to mind: 1) Much more than you might think. 2) Don’t worry so much.
With tunes by Nelson, one of the best American songwriters, played by notable pickers, the record contains strong music that should sound welcome to fans of Nelson, of bluegrass, and of the field with the loose label, “Americana.”
It’s a given that in more than 60 years of major-label recording, Nelson, 90, has been better known for presenting his own songs, enduring tunes such as “Crazy,” “Hello Walls,” and “On the Road Again,” the last of which is heard here in a new version. But he’s also made his name with notable covers – like “Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain,” “Seven Spanish Angels,” “Blue Skies,” and others – in a welter of styles, including blues, pop standards, and even reggae. Nelson’s core music enfolds ‘40s and ‘50s country, traditional fiddle tunes, four-square gospel, ragtime, some swing flavorings, and definitely a heap of blues. The mix also includes more contemporary pop. Subtract some of that last bit of material, throw in some lonesome mountain banjo and ballads, and you’ll find, in different proportions, foundational bluegrass as designed by chief architects like Bill Monroe and Earl Scruggs.
Legacy Records, the Sony division putting out Nelson’s Bluegrass disc, says the style “was given a name by Kentucky songwriter/performer/recording artist Bill Monroe and the Blue Grass Boys, whose post-war recordings profoundly influenced Willie’s songwriting sensibilities and the direction of American country music in general.” They go on to say, “Willie chose songs combining the kind of strong melodies, memorable storylines and tight ensemble-interplay found in traditional bluegrass interpretations of the roots (from European melodies to African rhythms) of American folk songs.”
And it’s pretty much on target. But what else speaks to Nelson’s involvement with bluegrass?
Let’s return to the early ‘70s, when he famously abandoned a Nashville scene where he had achieved songwriting fame and a recording career. But Music Row had flagged in creativity and opportunity, he and others thought. And yes, at the end of 1969, his house had burned down. By 1972, Nelson’s persona was changing as his new approach revisited his Texas roots. The year saw new-breed stars like Kris Kristofferson showing up at the first Dripping Springs Reunion, a Texas country music festival. The show, which was to morph int0 a string of outdoor throwdowns known as Willie’s Fourth of July Picnic, presented a bluegrass contingent led by Monroe, with foundational figures Earl Scruggs and Lester Flatt leading their post-breakup bands, as well as additional notables including Jimmy Martin.
Jo Walker, executive director of the Country Music Association, told the Austin-American Statesman that the trade group was delighted to hear about the Dripping Springs Reunion. “So many of the rock festivals and similar events have reflected so unfavorably on the music industry that we are particularly happy that your reunion will be a Country Music show.” But with Nelson embracing a new, youth-driven fan base and a long-haired, bandana-ed look, what did country music even mean?
There was a growing correlation, it seemed, between the increased popularity of bluegrass and the emergent outlaw (read: long hair, free-thinking, whiskey-drinking, dope smoking, etc.) movement in country music, led by Nelson and Waylon Jennings. Its bluegrass surge was sparked in part by the Earl Scruggs Revue’s broad acceptance in non-traditional venues like college campuses and hot sales for the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band’s Will the Circle Be Unbroken. Back in Nashville, in 1973, wider acceptance of bluegrass also meant that Monroe, his former Blue Grass Boy Flatt, the brilliant wildman Jimmy Martin, and the great brother team of Jim & Jesse McReynolds would join Nelson amid the crowd of stars at CMA’s second annual Fan Fair celebration.
In 1974, both Scruggs and Monroe, as well as Grand Ole Opry stars Ernest Tubb, Jeanne Pruitt, and Roy Acuff appeared on stage singing with another wildman, country-blues rocker Leon Russell. That’s documented in a photograph of this period, likely from a Willie’s Picnic. Quite a lineup.
A version of the picture found on the web says the shot is from A Poem is a Naked Person, a documentary on Russell by esteemed filmmaker Les Blank shot between 1972 and 1974, but not released until 2015. Nelson appears in the movie to sing “Good Hearted Woman” – also on this new album – playing guitar bass runs that would work fine in bluegrass. He also backs up fiddler Mary Egan, of the Austin “progressive-country” band Greezy Wheels, on an energetic version of the bluegrass-country perennial “Orange Blossom Special.”
In 1974, Nelson went to work in the soul-music capital of Muscle Shoal, Alabama, to record a milestone disc on his road to making records his own way. The album, Phases and Stages, which won over both fans and critics, contains prominent five-string played Scruggs-style on the hit “Bloody Mary Morning,” which also returns on Bluegrass.
The 1983 Bill Monroe session referenced above came after a last minute February 22 phone call from Nelson to let Monroe know he was available to appear on the in-progress Bill Monroe and Friends album for MCA Records. That’s according to a passage in the indispensable book, The Music of Bill Monroe, by bluegrass scholars Neil Rosenberg and Charles Wolfe.
“[Engineer, Vic) Gabany recalls that on February, 22, 1983, Monroe called the studio and asked if it was free that afternoon,” Rosenberg and Wolfe write. “Willie Nelson was in town, and he wanted to rush in and cut the duet with him. Fortunately, it was. Moreover, the Blue Grass Boys were all available, and Haynes was able to round up studio musicians Charlie Collins and Buddy Spicher.”
Monroe’s original tune with Nelson, “The Sunset Trail,” shows the impact of another style, cowboy music, that both men favored. Nelson reaches into his upper range to sing below Monroe, who’s going way up there, as was his wont. “It’s a thrill of my life to be here with you,” Monroe says as he and Nelson exchange praise in the track’s introduction.
In 1990, Monroe accepted Nelson’s invitation to perform at the April 7 Farm Aid IV concert in Indianapolis. “We’re glad to be here with Willie Nelson!” he said to kick off a set marked by powerful singing, crisp mandolin picking, and a little crowd-pleasing buck dancing. The show placed Monroe, 79, in a lineup that included stars such as Elton John and Lou Reid. The Indianapolis Star estimated the crowd at 45,000.
During Monroe’s last years — he died in 1996 — he often spoke to Nelson on the phone, according to a person who didn’t want to be identified, but often spent time at Monroe’s home on the farm outside Nashville during that period. “He valued their friendship immensely,” the person said.
Bluegrass‘s 12 songs contain several Nelson compositions that became standards of his repertoire, along with less familiar tunes that also fit in the recording approach overseen by Music Row’s Buddy Cannon. A songwriter and producer, Cannon is known for delivering big songs, like “Set ‘Em Up Joe” for Vern Gosdin, and chart hits for more recent mainstream acts such as Kenny Chesney, John Michael Montgomery, and Reba McEntire. A frequent Nelson collaborator, Cannon assembled a list of Nashville co-conspirators: Union Station members Barry Bales, on bass, and Ron Block, on banjo; former Union Station member and current rising star Dan Tyminski on mandolin; fiddler Aubrey Haynie; Dobro man Rob Ickes; Seth Taylor also on mandolin; as well as harmonica player Mickey Raphael, who’s worked for decades in Nelson’s band.
The music mostly doesn’t come off as hard-core bluegrass in the mode of, say, the Stanley Brothers. But it leans on the elements that Nelson has in common with the style — lonesome melodies, classic country, swing and blues.
The mournful “You Left Me a Long, Long Time Ago,” from 1964, reflects the straight-country songwriting to which Nelson and others brought a terse, modern beauty in the late ‘50s and early ‘60s. It was a time when bluegrass enjoyed a closer co-existence with mainstream country, as opposed to straining against the tight format borders that limit today’s music business. Among the many artists who crossed back and forth freely were guitarist-songwriter, Carl Butler, fiddler Tommy Jackson, and Cajun star Doug Kershaw. They all worked with Monroe.
A new version of “Sad Songs and Waltzes” mourns in tones not too different from Monroe favorites ranging from “Kentucky Waltz” to “Sitting Alone in the Moonlight.” The song also recalls the 3/4 time Lone Star tunes that Nelson might have heard at the Texas Fiddlers Contest and Reunion.
That show got going in 1934 in Athens, Texas, just one year before Nelson arrived on the scene in Abbott, less than 90 miles away.
The fiddle contests that influenced so much of Texas music beginning in the 19th century, had parallels in the 18th century Southeast, where contests featured both the fiddle and the banjo, with its African roots. This music went around, and it still comes around.
The sock-rhythm backing of “Ain’t No Love Around” recalls early Blue Grass Boys recordings such as “Heavy Traffic Ahead,” recorded September 16, 1946, and featuring Earl Scruggs’ first recorded banjo solo. Elsewhere, the laidback favorite, “On the Road Again,” gets a more intense reading from Nelson, with some vocal and instrumental improvisation to spice it up. The mystical “Still is Still Moving to Me” leaves plenty of room for pickers to range far and wide on banjo, mandolin, fiddle and Dobro.
“You give the appearance of one widely traveled,” Nelson sings in “Yesterday’s Wine.” He’s singing from a faraway spot in time, in myth, in history. It’s a stance that’s earned a place on bluegrass playlists for more recent songwriters such as Guy Clark, David Olney, and Gillian Welch.
“Bloody Mary Morning,” from Phases and Stages gets the most recent of several revivals from Nelson, who led a jam-grassy version in the 1980 film Honeysuckle Rose and later sang it in a duet with Wynonna Judd. The song’s forthright tale of fighting the blues by having a highball on a plane seems somehow classier than the constant tales of beer and pickups that populate country radio.
In the end it seems clear that for decades, both Willie Nelson and bluegrass music have served, in different ways, as a conscience of country music. Just as the Solemn Old Judge, WSM radio announcer George D. Hay, commanded, they “Keep her close to the ground, boys,” although their paths have diverged, at times.
In any case, this new collection brings Nelson together with bluegrass pickers for music that might even work to serve that same worthy purpose.
Even with more than a dozen releases that have accumulated over 400 million streams, The Band of Heathens are adamant that their best work still lies ahead, and with their latest album Simple Things it’s easy to see why.
Split between Austin, Texas, and Asheville, North Carolina, band members Ed Jurdi and Gordy Quist turned the pitfalls of a crippling pandemic into ten of their most hopeful and inspiring songs yet for Simple Things, released on their own BOH Records. They sing about everything from not letting the bad times beat you down (“Don’t Let the Darkness”) to an appreciation for the little things in life (“Simple Things”), hanging on when nothing seems to be going in your favor (“Heartless Year”) and the importance of family (“All That Remains”), all the while helping to chart a better path forward for themselves and society as a whole as we navigate a new normal.
The group’s sustained success for nearly 20 years is even more significant considering the Band of Heathens have operated independent of a record label the entire time. Without anyone pulling the strings and dictating what they do behind the scenes, the group has been able to focus on creating the music they want on their own terms, ultimately thriving in the process.
Speaking on Zoom from Austin, Jurdi and Quist spoke with BGS about the band’s recipe for success, the inspiration behind the new songs, and how bluegrass influences their music.
BGS: Tell me about how your “Remote Transmissions” live streams and ensuing “Good Time Supper Club” Patreon community have helped to grow your fans and spark your own creativity?
Quist: The Patreon is an extension of what we did during the pandemic when we began a weekly livestream over Facebook. We were all spread out in different cities at the time and couldn’t play music together so we made what we could out of the situation. We did everything from individually trading songs to trading verses on the same song, reading Shakespeare and even fitting in Grateful Dead segments. It became this strange variety show that we did every Tuesday night for 52 weeks. Through it we discovered an amazing community online who looked forward to the show every week, so when touring began to pick back up we moved the show to Patreon where we continue to host weekly chats, live streams, give early access to new songs — including many on the new record — and other behind-the-scenes looks from our creative lives.
Jurdi: The pandemic really forced us to improvise in a way we never had before. The irony with the online variety show we were doing was that it’s the closest thing we’ve done in a while to the origins of the band when we had a weekly residency in Austin. Those shows were almost entirely improvised, so returning to that was a very cathartic and full circle experience.
Given the community and successful careers you’ve built up over the past two decades, what advice would you give other independent artists trying to make it in the age of streaming and social media?
Quist: We started out right as labels were beginning to lose their grip on the power structure and being gatekeepers of distribution, but we were never a part of that system. That made being independent out of necessity to begin with. We ended up being offered a record deal on our second album but were wary of becoming indentured servants to some corporation for potentially our entire careers. We turned it down and used the opportunity to instead double down on ourselves, always looking out for new technology and investing in things that further allowed for us to make music on our own terms. We weren’t afraid of streaming and we weren’t afraid of downloads, we embraced it all.
Jurdi: The idea is to be creative making music and to build a community that you can always come back to which, in a strange way, is more accessible than it ever has been due to the technology now at our disposal. At the same time I think more work goes into it than ever before, not just in making music but promotion and all the other aspects of operating a business.
One of my favorite songs on the new record is “Stormy Weather,” which I saw [Ed] play solo during the day party for Warren Haynes’ Christmas Jam last December in Asheville, as well as with the full band on CBS This Morning. Can you tell me a bit about the song and how it came to be?
Jurdi: That’s a song we’d worked out a while back for another record that didn’t end up making the cut. There’s always a million reasons why that happens, but the song itself was always one that I really liked due to its imagery and overall theme. In a weird way it’s almost like the band’s theme song. It really represents our spirit, our struggles, being able to overcome the obstacles put in our path and, in some capacity, triumphing over them. Whenever we got to work on this new record, that song crept back into my head. We ended up taking the bones of it and putting a new arrangement on it that helped to change the feel and give the song a new look. Within five minutes of reworking it we knew we were onto something.
Are there any other songs on Simple Things that you reworked or had in your back pocket for a while?
Quist: Nope, “Stormy Weather” was the only older tune. Even it’s so far from where it once was that it’s practically new, too. Everything else was freshly written for this record.
As for the rest of the songs, this is very much a pandemic record. Can you describe the band’s emotions when getting back into the studio to work on these songs after being away from each other for so long?
Quist: It was joyful to be back playing rock ‘n’ roll together again. The inspiration for the songs largely came from that feeling when something gets taken from you how it makes you appreciate it a whole lot more. Throughout the record you can definitely feel the excitement in the room. There was very little analysis and thinking going on and a whole lot more inspiration and playing.
Jurdi: For us art has always been cathartic. Gordy and I are both optimists, always looking toward the future, but at the same time there’s no concept of the future without first being very present in the moment you are experiencing now. For example, the first verse of “Don’t Let the Darkness” talks about all this stuff that’s gone on in the past that you can’t do anything about other than putting your best foot forward, showing up and being available now. The most magical moments that have ever happened to me have come when I’ve been open and available to that.
In terms of your music, how would you say that bluegrass impacts your creative perspective, if at all?
Jurdi: The foundation of The Band of Heathens explores the roots of American music while aiming to carve out our own voice within it, and bluegrass certainly plays a part in that. You can hear it on “Single in the Same Summer,” which is a very acoustically driven song with a string band-like melody. How it sounds on the record doesn’t have a huge bluegrass feel to it, but the melody and roots of it absolutely do. It’s reminiscent of the mountain music of Appalachia. Living in Asheville the past ten years or so it’s seeped its way into everything. It’s the indigenous music of the region.
Quist: The improvisational nature of the band when we play live has been informed by bluegrass along with blues, jazz and country. That spirit is definitely something that is part of our live approach to playing in terms of taking solos and trying to say something on your instrument as well as within a song.
What kind of challenges or opportunities have come from a decade of being split between Austin and Asheville, two very music-forward cities in different corners of the country?
Jurdi: In a weird way I think the distance has actually helped in terms of appreciating the time we do have together to the best of our ability. Sometimes things that might be perceived as a weakness or a disadvantage can be turned into a strength. In our case we’ve found a really good way to make it work and have grown closer because of it.
The talented and resilient Ruthie Foster, whose voice is often compared to Aretha Franklin’s, used the pandemic to reconnect to the music, friends and emotions that have shaped her life. She called on her touring ensemble, The Family Band, as well as producers, co-writers and musicians she knows well to create her ninth album, Healing Time.
Growing up in Texas, Foster was surrounded by southern blues and gospel. During a stint as vocalist with the U.S. Navy Band, she constantly toured with a quickly changing repertoire, from rock, blues and country to military and classical pieces. Today, her varied musical tastes show up in every performance: as she says, “From reggae to Mississippi John Hurt.” Since releasing her first album in 1997, she has played across the country and around the world, drawing in audiences with her big, beautiful voice and her even bigger heart.
A four-time Grammy nominee, Foster has earned many accolades and awards from the Blues Foundation and the Living Blues Awards. She has performed with the icons of contemporary music, from the Allman Brothers to the Blind Boys of Alabama to James Taylor. On November 19, she became only the sixth musician to receive a star on the sidewalk of the Paramount Theater in her adopted hometown of Austin.
BGS: How did Healing Time come together?
Foster: I really wanted to do something that involved my band, something that we could do together. Because that’s my family – my band is my family. And this is the first time I’ve actually recorded with my band for the most part. Coming out of the pandemic, people were starting to gather a bit, and we were asked to record Austin City Limits, a special show without an audience. That was in January after that first year.
So, I flew my band down for that. Scottie Miller, who wrote the song “Healing Time,” is my piano player and lives in Minneapolis. Hadden Sayers, my guitar player, came from Columbus, Ohio. Brennen Temple is here in Austin, and Larry Fulcher, my bass player, is in Houston. So, everybody came in, and while they were here, we sat and wrote together. That’s how it started: Let’s get everybody back together for some writing sessions and be in the same room after so many months of isolation.
Was this your first serious effort at co-writing?
I have co-written a lot, even though not a lot got recorded. When I was in the New York area with Atlantic Records, I co-wrote a lot. It was more of a development deal. I used the time after I signed with them to learn the whole craft. For example, I really learned how to play in front of people, even though I had been doing that for many years. I learned how to write different ways with different people. Those three years were about learning how to write and play to empty venues – because I played at seven o’clock at night, and New Yorkers don’t come out at seven o’clock, you know? But this was the first time writing together with the guys. They’re all writers. They all produce and release their own music. So, I’m very, very lucky and blessed to be able to have them come out with me when they can, because they all tour.
It sounds like you credit collaboration with your band and your producers for the quality of this project.
That was important to me. The focus of this album was to make it a band family project. I used a couple different producers. Mark Howard was wonderful to work with. We started at a studio here in Austin with my band and then went to New Orleans with a wonderful set of fellas over there: basically, the people he worked with on the Emmylou Harris album [1994’s Wrecking Ball]. Then we came back to Austin and worked at a studio with a different producer. Dan Barrett. Dan was able to help me finish off the album because I started touring again in between sessions.
You’re really happy with this whole project. What do you like so much about it?
First, I didn’t really play on this album, I just wanted to sing, and that gave me a lot more freedom to go places I really wanted to go vocally. And it was just so much fun. I wanted to lean more toward soul and R&B, which we did. I have to admit, I have been writing and tweaking some of these tunes for many, many years. The pandemic gave me a chance to pull out some of these cassette tapes and some CDs that had songs that were partially done and rework them. “Don’t Want to Give Up on You” was one of those songs. That started out more folk, just me on a guitar. I changed the groove a little bit, and I changed the chords a little bit, and that’s when it went soul.
“What Kind of Fool” was written by myself, Scottie and Hadden, and this version is nowhere near the demo. Getting ready to record, I’m standing in front of the microphone, everybody else is standing in with their instruments. And Mark surprised us. He gave us a reference track. Gosh, I think it was something that Adele recorded. So, it took us to another place. We slowed it down, added a little more reverb and a little funky, saucy guitar. And it just went somewhere fun — and scary at the same time. Because I’m walking up to the microphone, and this song is a totally different tempo. It’s a totally different groove. I’m trying to figure out where I’m singing here. Let me find space to sing — and that’s also what made it fun.
It shows you had a lot of trust and confidence in everyone.
There was a lot of trust involved as a singer, because usually these guys will play these songs through without a vocal track. And then we’ll try a scratch track. But this one was pretty much me in the room with them, so we were all on the high wire together. Mark brought a very special microphone that had been used for recording people like Frank Sinatra and Etta James, a very expensive and beautiful mic that was so sensitive to sing through. And I was excited to sing through something that made my voice feel so warm, without anything connected to it, almost naked.
Early in your career you were being guided toward pop music, but you preferred to stay closer to the roots music you grew up with. What’s roots music for you?
Roots music is about really simple instrumentation. To me, that’s acoustic guitar and piano, which was my first instrument. For me it was Lightnin’ Hopkins. A lot of his kinfolk lived in the same area where I lived. His nephew Milton Hopkins was still playing around in Texas, so I got a chance to open for him once in a while. So, I was very connected to blues music, and to me that was roots music.
Then it was the folk music I learned on guitar — and a lot of Beatles, James Taylor. And branching off from there, I loved Phoebe Snow and Janis Ian. But I didn’t hear anyone doing soul music in an acoustic way. I think that was what was missing for me. I did Aretha Franklin on acoustic guitar. I did Sam Cooke on acoustic guitar. And for me, that was roots. It’s almost like bringing two different worlds together. And it has a lot to do with the sets that I put together these days.
Did you ever record any Sam Cooke songs?
No, that’s all just live. Once in a while we’ll pull something like that out for an encore. And that’s always fun to watch peoples’ faces turn to smiles. You can see them thinking, “Yeah, I remember ‘You Send Me.’” Yeah, I love doing that. My mother sang gospel music. She sang soul music, too. So, this was just my way of communicating to my mother, who died at 53, doing something like “You Send Me” and remembering how much she and my father loved Sam Cooke’s music.
Can you talk about “4 AM,” a song you wrote while touring in Europe?
I was by myself on this one, although I usually travel with a tour manager. I was in Latvia, but this could have been anywhere. You know, I’ve gone through this in Michigan or sitting in a hotel room in Chicago. You just feel so disconnected after being so connected and plugged in. When I’m on stage, I’m given everything, because it’s just as much for me as it is for the audience. You get up at four in the morning, most of the day is spent traveling. And then you get that little 75- to 90-minute spot to just let your heart go and give what you’re there to do. And then you get all this love at the CD table, and people tell you how much those songs mean to you.
And then you pack it all up and you head back to your Comfort Inn. And you’re trying to find your room key, and you’re holding a guitar and all of your stuff, and you finally get in the room. And then it’s just you. And it’s the middle of the night. And in some ways, it’s very peaceful. But other nights when it’s the fifth night in a row and you’re tired and hungry for a one-on-one, it gets lonely.
On the night I wrote this song, I had a little bit of vodka left from a gift, and I had a beautiful tea set that was brought to me that morning, and I thought I’d just stay up and see what comes up. And that was that. I finished it that night. Obviously, I’m okay, but yeah, you get a little depressed, and it’s easy to slip into a dark side. And I want to confine that to just music.
It’s about plugging in and allowing people to see the real you. That song is as close to me as you’re gonna get for what I was going through that night. I hope people connect with it. I’ve had feedback like that at the CD table. Once this young fellow walked up to me after waiting in a long line. He stood there and just cried. He just bawled. He couldn’t get a word out. So, I had to just hold on to him for a while. When that happens, I know I’ve done something. I’ve touched somebody. That’s also a reminder that I still have work to do. I still have something to say.
Ruthie, is there anything particular you’d like BGS readers to know about you?
Well, you can’t categorize me. I don’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse. But I’ll take whatever it is, as long as what I’m doing reaches people in the deepest way. You can’t put me in a box, and I think that says a lot about not just who I am, but who we all are.
Artist:The Deer (answers by Grace Rowland) Hometown: San Marcos/Austin, Texas Latest Album:The Beautiful Undead Personal nicknames (or rejected band names): We used to be called Grace Park and The Deer, when I was using that stage name and it was more my folk songwriting project. We have many silly names for Noah, our fiddle/mandolinist, including Nugiel and Space Nug. Our guitar player Michael goes by Deenyo.
What’s the toughest time you ever had writing a song?
They don’t always come easy, and the muse is ephemeral, like a Whac-A-Mole. We strike when the iron is hot and write independently as much as we can, but we also have to force ourselves to get together and record every now and then whatever comes to mind, even when in a drought. These “drought” sessions are some of the toughest because they are so open-ended. But a lot of good can come from them — the song “Six-Pointed Star” comes to mind right now. It started as a simple song we made in the woods, but when we took it to the studio we had the worst time trying to make it sound right. We must have made four different versions until we finally hit it, but now it is one of our favorites to play.
Which artist has influenced you the most … and how?
Gillian Welch’s rustic realism John Hartford’s wordsmithing Depeche Mode’s moody chord progressions and deep bass Pink Floyd’s subtle layering and studio techniques Tori Amos’ outspoken poignancy and fearless lyricism
How often do you hide behind a character in a song or use “you” when it’s actually “me”?
For me, it’s often the other way around. I will write from a first-person perspective to make it sound like it’s me, but the person is actually someone else in another body, and the events are imaginary, or real but in another time. In this way I feel like I can transcend time and space lyrically, perhaps to sound a call for mystical encounters that would be otherwise impossible, or to set the stage for events that have yet to happen. One example is the lyricism in “Like Through the Eye,” a billowing romp of a dream that never actually took place, but an experience that I have always envisioned and desired to happen to me. Songs are a way of bringing these things to me. Jesse, however, does this all the time. For instance in our new single “Bellwether,” the original lyrics were “I am falling farther into Me.” As a narcissistic ode to ourselves it served a purpose, but for our greater audience we decided to soften it into a palatable love song.
Which elements of nature do you spend the most time with and how do those impact your work?
Bodies of water would be our main way of connecting with nature as a group. We make it a point to visit rivers, oceans, hot springs, and lakes wherever we can, and take in Earth’s most valuable essence, and all the plants and animals they gather around them. In lyrics we often reference the sea and the river, flora and fauna, and interspecies relationships, because they reflect the cosmological order that governs our bodies and our feelings. Our complex emotions can be understood better when we zoom out and realize that we are not only driven by this order, but a vital part of it.
What was the first moment that you knew you wanted to be a musician?
I was really into musicals as a kid, watching VHS tapes for hours on end and learning every song. My first concert was Lilith Fair in 1997. I was 12, and it was life-changing. However, my decision to actually pursue music as a career didn’t come until my early 20s, when I met a large swath of working musicians at Kerrville Folk Festival in 2006. Seeing so many people my age who were writing their own songs and touring independently, traveling with freedom and spreading their art, was enough to set my intent upon making that dream real.
Whether we got started later or earlier in life, as a group the media we consumed as kids was probably 100% responsible for illustrating an applied use for the gifts we knew we possessed. MTV (back when they played music videos), the Grammys, Saturday Night Live, the Super Bowl halftime show, and yes, even church — these mainstream outlets showed us at an early age what it looked like when someone was giving it their all to entertain their community, and the world. It was enough to inspire each of us to hone our skills, and bring our talent to people on our own scale.
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