Dive into the enchanting world of Elise Leavy – who hails from picturesque Monterey, California – through her latest album, A Little Longer. Leavy’s artistic journey is steeped in the influences of her magical childhood surroundings. Her life growing up was filled with music and art, thanks to her mom’s painting and her stepdad’s own musical talents. Growing up with a deep appreciation for nature and a belief in faeries, Leavy shares how these elements shaped her musical perspective.
As we explore Elise’s musical evolution in this episode of Basic Folk, we touch on her experiences with live performances, overcoming stage fright, and the art of songwriting. Her unique approach to music, drawing from her magical way of thinking, is reflected in her exploration of various musical instruments – from accordion to guitar, piano, fiddle, and more. We also uncover the impact of her time at summer camps, which fostered a sense of community that continues to shape her artistic expression to this day.
This episode delves into the intriguing intersection of Leavy’s musical journey with homeschooling, highlighting the unconventional path she took to prioritize her love for songwriting and music making. She left public school in eighth grade to focus on her craft and built her schedule around attending music camps. She would go on to study at New England Conservatory and she lived briefly in New York. After several years in Nashville, she has recently found herself living in Lafayette, Louisiana.
The songs on Leavy’s new album, A Little Longer, were mostly written while she was based in the Northeast. In our conversation, Elise opens up about her connections to music, magical creatures, and the harmonious blend of romance and fantasy in her musical creations.
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.
Vivian Leva and Riley Calcagno, known as Viv & Riley, dive deep into the nuances of old-time music, their folk influences, and the process behind their album, Imaginary People. The duo, who met at a music camp in Port Townsend, Washington, trace their roots from Riley’s disciplined musical practice to Viv’s intuitive approach. The two found inspiration from growing up in the Seattle area listening to KEXP to living in Portland, Oregon, to their current home in Durham, North Carolina. Drawing on their experiences at fiddlers conventions and music camps, Viv & Riley reflect on the transformative power of collaboration and the vibrant community that has shaped their unique sound in their duo as well as their other band, The Onlies.
As they share insights into their songwriting process, the episode unravels the intricate layers of Imaginary People, delving into the harmonious blend of indie roots and experimental production that defines their latest release. With a nod to their eclectic influences, including the supportive atmosphere of Durham, North Carolina, the duo discusses the evolution of their sound under the guidance of producer Alex Bingham from Hiss Golden Messenger, who produced their latest album.
Rachael Kilgour unravels the layers of her late father on the album, My Father Loved Me. Recorded in the cold of Toronto and produced by Rose Cousins (who also joins us for this conversation), this album carries the essence of Canadian roots and is a profound exploration of family heritage through the lens of an ordinary, hard working, and humble man who died in 2017. Duluth-born Rachael, and Rose, based in Halifax, reflect on their cold weather experiences, infusing the recording process with warmth despite the chilly Canadian setting.
The core of our discussion revolves around Rachael’s deep emotional connection to the album, particularly her poignant exploration of the father-daughter relationship amidst the challenges of dementia. We navigate the themes of grief, death, and identity while learning about Rachael’s father, his impact, and how he continues to live on through Rachael’s personality and idiosyncrasies. They shared the struggle of anxiety and self-doubt, which the songwriter addresses on the album. We also get a look into Rose’s perspective on Rachael’s growth and the impact the vulnerable creative process has had on her songwriting. And then, we wrap it all up with a very fun Dad-themed lightning round.
The cover of Darrell Scott’s latest album, Old Cane Back Rocker, immediately sets the tone for your listening experience. The inclusion of the names of the Darrell Scott String Band (Bryn Davies, Matt Flinner, and Shad Cobb) lets you know right off the bat that this recording is a band effort. The photo on the album cover gives a visual of Scott’s family roots in rural Kentucky. His cousin Dwight Messer is standing in front of his former childhood home, now abandoned on the family land. The music reflects his family’s story: some, like Dwight, stayed behind and some, like Darrell’s father, Wayne Scott, moved up North to find work. Despite being raised in the North, Darrell’s home has always felt like Kentucky and the traditional music learned from there. These songs showcase those roots.
In our conversation, Darrell digs into the darkness that can be heard in his music, even if it’s not a sad song. He talks about his friend and frequent collaborator, Tim O’Brien, and how his performance and writing has allowed Scott to level up. Darrell also speaks to leaning into emotional songwriting and trusting his tears during the creative process. He shares the emotional account of rerecording his father’s song “This Weary Way” and how he used to think Hank Williams had actually written it.
Immediately after we finished our interview, Lizzie texted me, “What a cool eccentric intellectual dude.” Couldn’t have said it better myself. This episode honestly discovers the true essence of Darrell Scott — an artist whose music resonates with the soul, rooted in the traditions of Kentucky.
Let’s get folking special! We’re closing out 2023 with an exclusive live recording from folk mothership Club Passim, the historic folk venue located in Cambridge, Massachusetts, that celebrates the bi-annual campfire festival and its remarkable 25th anniversary. It started as a way for the club to book a slow holiday weekend and now 25 years later, campfire is still held every Memorial Day and Labor Day weekend. It remains an extremely popular fundraiser for Passim.
Cindy and Lizzie host this live show featuring captivating performances by Lizzie, Zachariah Hickman, Kara McKee, and Mercedes Escobar. Additionally, listeners are treated to a rare on-stage interview with managing director and campfire founder Matt Smith as well as club manager and campfire programmer Abby Altman, providing unique insights into the festival’s evolution and the passion that fuels its success.
This episode highlights the unpredictability of campfire, where both emerging artists and legends like Peter Wolf share the sacred stage. Matt Smith and Abby Altman’s dedication shines through as they discuss their exhaustive efforts in planning, booking, and executing nearly 60 campfires, showcasing the heart and soul behind this beloved festival. Tune in for a mix of live music, insightful conversations, and a nostalgic journey through the rich history of “campfire.” and Club Passim.
Songwriter Maya de Vitry and bassist Ethan Jodziewicz come to their partnership with an understanding for their chosen lifestyle and a creative playfulness that enhances their connection. While Maya’s roots are firmly planted in folk music, Ethan brings classical music and improvisation to the table. They’ve been collaborating together since Maya’s post-Stray Birds solo career, which launched in early 2019 with her record, Adaptations. Fast forward to 2023, they are back alongside Joel Timmons and Hannah Delynn with the fabulous new EP, Infinite. For the first time in years, Maya is back on the road, while Ethan has been touring basically non-stop with musicians like Aoife O’Donovan, Sierra Hull, and Lindsay Lou. In our conversation, they talk about how it’s helpful to be in a relationship with someone who is also deeply committed to a musician’s lifestyle while understanding when someone needs a break.
Maya also reflects on her current state of being within her body and how she has trouble recognizing physical pain to the point where she can’t move. She talks of the realization that she had the tendency to tense up when picking up a guitar and how that was because she felt like she didn’t belong. Ethan and Maya share their observations on working within a boundary. Ethan laments that he often works within a boundary with improvisation while Maya speaks of placing limitations around touring and performing live shows. We end this insightful interview with Maya revealing celebrity sightings are her Nashville Starbucks and a very fun Lightning Round called “Which One.”
Photo Credit: Maya de Vitry by Kaitlyn Raitz; Ethan Jodziewicz by Lily Smith
Thirty years ago, Rosanne Cash experienced an all-encompassing transformation. She had just left Nashville, her major label record deal and her marriage. She was living in New York and found herself falling in love with her producer, the guitarist John Leventhal. Her previous album Interiors had set the stage for the new Rosanne. With her landmark album, The Wheel, Cash and Leventhal came together to work on a brand new sound for the artist, who had a well established career in mainstream country along with multiple #1 radio hits. She blew it all up for love! Cash had been unhappy and was yearning to live a life of authenticity in her music and her personal life. Three decades later, she’s reissued The Wheel and is ready to TALK ABOUT IT.
In our conversation, Rosanne addresses the inner critic and how she’s come to harness its power for good in the editing process. She took a painting class, where she painted a picture of her inner critic and has never looked back. After her divorce, she struggled with motherhood: being a good mom and trying not to ruin her kids’ lives. She looks back now with regrets and guilt as most mothers do. Her saving grace is that she was not a normal mom. Her oldest daughter assures her that she would not want a normal mom. We also talk about John’s upcoming solo debut album and why the two have established their own record label. Rosanne Cash is a treasure and I very much appreciated this deep dive into such a pivotal moment in her career and life!
Long before the world fell in love with the music of Iron & Wine, and even before he knew that he wanted a career in music, Sam Beam knew that he loved making things. His parents, who didn’t necessarily understand their artsy kid but wanted to support him, kept Sam well-supplied in drawing paper and art supplies so that his imagination could run free. Sam knew that he was different from other kids but that didn’t bother him. In his early days of making music, Sam obsessively honed his skills as a producer so that he could present the most polished songs possible. It wasn’t until later that he realized that live performance was just as important a part of his craft. Following his own curiosity has enabled Sam to remain intellectually energized throughout two decades of touring and releasing music.
One thing you might not know about Iron & Wine is that he has worked with the same manager for his entire career. When he met Howard Greynolds, Sam’s music career was just beginning to take off. Howard quickly proved that he cared more about the music than about getting money and credit. Their relationship has deepened and evolved over the years as Iron & Wine has become one of the most beloved singer-songwriters in folk music, and the music industry has reinvented itself in the age of streaming.
Iron & Wine is notoriously private and mysterious, but that might be about to change with the release of Who Can See Forever, a meditative documentary. The project started as a concert film but the director, Josh Sliffe, was able to convince Sam to sit for a series of interviews reflecting on his life, his work, parenthood, creativity, craft, and legacy. Those conversations find Sam looking back but mostly looking forward with curiosity and acceptance.
(Editor’s Note: This interview first appeared in full on Basic Folk. Listen on BGS or wherever you get podcasts. The following has been lightly edited for flow and clarity.)
Jobi Riccio has only begun to scratch the surface of what they have to offer on their debut album, Whiplash. The songwriting is centered around self discovery and mourning past lives, laid alongside super-smart country and pop melodies. Our hero grew up an outdoor kid amongst the woods of Red Rocks Parks Amphitheatre in Colorado.
A strong bluegrass community encircled her playing from a very young age in a way that encouraged her to pursue music as a career. She spent time in Boston attending Berklee College of Music, nestled in the folk community centered around the historic venue Club Passim. March 2020 hit. Jobi had to leave her newfound community and found herself back in her childhood bedroom.
While wrestling with all the complications of finding herself and her place in the world, they were letting go of their childhood and the sense of grounding that came with it. Eventually, they made their way to Asheville, North Carolina to work on Whiplash.
In the studio, she took her time making the album and discovered that indeed, she had a strong sense of vision for the music. The trust of her collaborators allowed her to trust in herself and create an album that is turning heads and making Jobi Riccio one of the most exciting young songwriters of 2023.
BGS: Thank you so much for being on Basic Folk.
Jobi Riccio: Thank you for having me.
Alright, let’s start. I wanted to talk about identity and give you the opportunity to talk about your identity, like how do you identify pronouns, orientation, any of that stuff that we want to address.
JR: Yeah, I use she/they pronouns. I identify as queer and identity has been something that feels like it’s been important and very complicated for me. It feels like something that I have spoken about and made a part of my career, and now I’m kind of feeling, a little bit, like it’s become too much of a focus in my career, actually.
It’s funny, because I was listening to your other podcast that [you do], I can’t remember–
Yes! I was like, you’ll know the person to plug – and I’m so sorry to Why We Write.
It’s based on actually something that Lizzie No was saying. I just really resonated with something that she said, which was it’s about who is asking those questions of me. It can feel like a fine line. It’s kind of “cool” right now to be a queer artist or a Black artist or an artist of color in the folk space.
When you’re with your community, that feels one way, or with people who are truly great. And then when you’re with people who it just seems like they need to check that box. It’s so obvious and it’s so painful and it feels like a betrayal of yourself. And [Lizzie] put it a lot more eloquently than all that, but if we’re really going down the discussion of identity, it’s important to me that I am open with my identity, but I also feel like there have been times where it’s been so hyper-focused on. In a way that it’s like, “Did you even listen to any of my songs or did you know what I mean?”
I really enjoyed that answer. Doing these interviews, sometimes I feel like I’m gonna ask and I think that the interview is gonna go one way or a question is gonna go one way and it goes the complete opposite way. I just get to enjoy the ride.
You are from Morrison, Colorado, which is outside of Denver – the same place as Red Rocks Parks and Amphitheatre. You were an outdoor kid. How do you think your early experience in nature has impacted the person you became?
I think that it’s something that I really value and need and it’s a processing tool for me, being out in nature. It’s almost equivalent to songwriting and writing in my journal. It’s honestly super hard here in Nashville, because I don’t feel like I can get that, in the way that I used to be able to walk to a hiking trail five minutes from my house. I was absolutely supremely spoiled with outdoor access as a kid. [I didn’t] know any better. Like, there’s going to come a time where you’re going to live somewhere the nearest mountains are two and a half hours away. That is rough. It’s something I have to really intentionally build into my life now.
I think that nature heavily informs me as a person. Musically, I feel like it shows up in my lyrics [and] images from home, talking about coyotes and cactus and etc. I feel like it’s so intrinsic to who I am as a person.
So nature ruined you.
For real. The nature ruined me. Colorado ruined me.
There has always been this strong draw to music for you – country radio, your parents and sister’s collection of music, and also making music on your own. Can you set the scene for what music looked like in your house? And when did you get a grasp on your own taste in music?
My parents definitely – we had like a home stereo and a big collection of CDs and I spent a lot of time just sort of putzing around my house as a little kid, opening cabinets, and looking at things and opening the encyclopedia and reading. I don’t know if anyone else feels like a really intrinsic part of childhood was just looking at things.
The CD collection in like, a big wicker basket was definitely a huge one for me. They felt like little gifts. I could open up the CD and then there was this extra thing I could pull out and there were liner notes and lyrics and I could read along. That was really big for me, because I was always really interested in lyrics.
My dad’s a huge Bruce Springsteen fan. We love the Boss and sometimes we can’t understand the Boss. And like, his lyrics are wonderful, too. I really feel like that was pretty formative to me, looking through my parents’ CDs and my sister’s CDs as well. My oldest sister had like a clear, hot pink, very early 2000s lockbox thing that she kept her CDs in. I very vividly remember going into her room and stealing CDs – The Killers, Coldplay, A Rush of Blood to the Head was a big one for me, Sheryl Crow, Tuesday Night Music Club, Yellow Ocean Avenue. Then like Emmylou Harris, Bruce Springsteen, Linda Ronstadt, the Eagles, James Taylor.
There is a strong bluegrass community where you’re from. You found it at an early age, playing mandolin when you were like eight or nine years old. Since then you’ve sought out musical community, so what did you learn from that first musical community?
The bluegrass community was a big part of feeling supported for me in music. I was always a kid who sang and was like, the girl with a good voice in like my elementary school class or whatever, but I didn’t see myself as a musician until I really started playing mandolin. I had a teacher and he was super supportive and was like, “You’re really great at instruments, too.”
I feel like the bluegrass community in my hometown took me seriously even though I was a little kid running around at RockyGrass – and by “a little kid” I mean 16. I didn’t go to my first bluegrass festival until I was a teenager. I would go and sit and jam with adults and be taken seriously. I really looked up to [those who were] offering their support to me, that was immeasurable to [growing] my own self confidence at that age.
I mean, I was so insecure at like 15, 16. The first year I ever went to RockyGrass, which sort of became my home festival, I didn’t even go out and play with anyone. I just sat in my camper with my mom, because I was so scared and so nervous and having trouble with confidence. The next year, I was out like playing every night ’til like 2 or 3 a.m.
That’s a huge shift!
Yeah. I feel like community and music– I mean, no musician is an island. We’re nothing without the musicians who came before us and those who’ve supported us. Sometimes I look back on that time and wonder if I hadn’t gotten that nod in that jam from that older kid who was really good, who I thought was awesome; or from that artist who I worshipped, who told me I had a beautiful voice; or I had shared one of my songs with them, and they were encouraging of me writing. I wonder if I would have taken it this far?
Then I got to be in a really beautiful community space working at Club Passim in college, too. That also further helped bolster my confidence, especially playing solo. Because – as you know, as also somebody who worked there in a much different capacity – it’s very much like a solo listening room, singer-songwriter space.
I play solo [a lot] now on tour, because I can’t afford to bring out a band. I feel like I really garnered some valuable skills watching other people like Mark Erelli and Lori McKenna play solo at Passim and also having to do that myself, learning how to speak about the songs I had written and not be painfully awkward, but doing that in the loving embrace of that room.
You’ve talked about Sheryl Crow and The Chicks as having a huge impact on you. You picked up the mandolin after you first heard Nickel Creek – can you talk more about the influence Chris Thile and Sara and Sean Watkins had on you?
So, I first heard Nickel Creek on the radio on KBCO, which is like the AAA station.
Hell yeah, that’s a huge station. That’s where AAA was born!
Where AAA was born, famously, yes! That was my local radio station that I listened to as a kid. And they would play “Smoothie Song” by Nickel Creek. This was around the same time that I heard the Home album by The Chicks. I was listening to Top 40 country music and also hearing mandolin here and there. It’s so strange, because I don’t play the mandolin anymore. It’s just something I’m not interested in now – it makes me almost kind of sad to think of how this was such a big part of my life.
Then I really pivoted – and it’s like, I’ll never say never, but yeah, I started playing mandolin when I was 15, I wanted to play mandolin when I was about eight or nine years old, because that was when we got Why Should the Fire Die on CD as a family. When I started opening up the CD and reading the booklet and listening – that album is so cool, because there’s a little bit of almost a pop-punk thing to some of the songs, like “Somebody More Like You.” That was so of-the-time and I loved it. I couldn’t get enough of that.
Being introduced to this new palette of instruments that I really hadn’t heard played in this way. I was familiar with bluegrass to some extent, but it like bluegrass for me and my like angsty little 12-year-old self. And, you know, everybody’s angsty selves at any age. That struck such a chord in me…
And Pavement’s super emo! “Spit On a Stranger,” right?
Yeah, that’s it.
I loved that album, too. They were all older than me, but I didn’t really know that either because, like, they’re pretty young on the CD case. They’re probably [around] my older sister’s age, who is now 28. They’re not that close in age to me, but I did feel a kindred-ness that I feel like a lot of roots artists talk about, hearing them and the Chicks and being like, “Oh, this is cool! This is of the moment.” They’re incorporating sounds that we like from other genres, which is really what I think I’m trying to get with the whole pop-punk thing, though I know that can be kind of a “dirty” word, like pop country. I don’t think it should be, I don’t think any genre word should be.
And I definitely had like a three month period where I was like, “I’m in love with Chris Thile. I’m going to marry him.” That was a little, you know, short lived, but it was strong. His high, angelic voice really spoke to my prepubescent soul.
That’s so sweet.
You’re like, “I don’t know what to say about that!”
Thank you for sharing. No, it turns out it was Sara Watkins the whole time!
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