As we begin to roll into a new year, it is important to remember the important things in life and to be thankful for the goodness around us, like health, family, and music. In this edition of Friends & Neighbors, father and son Teddy Thompson and Richard Thompson grace the camera and perform a lovely set of songs for a Woodstock Sessions crew. With familiarity and comfort that only kinship can produce, the two share laughs, smiles, and charming songs that have decorated each of their respected careers.
The sessions kick off with the title track from Teddy Thompson’s new album, Heartbreaker Please. It’s his first solo release since 2011 and a complete representation of what he describes as a catholic taste in music, enjoying sounds and styles from many eras and genres. In addition, this Woodstock Session includes two of Richard Thompson’s landmark songs, as well as a cover of “Cut Across Shorty.” The fun and joviality this duo has while performing together is enough to warm the heart and kindle the flames of thankfulness and reflection. Watch these British icons share the frame here.
Artist:My Darling Clementine (with Steve Nieve) Hometown: Manchester / Birmingham, UK Song: “I Lost You” Album:Country Darkness Release Date: November 6, 2020 Label: Fretsore Records
In Their Words: “‘I Lost You’ comes from [Elvis] Costello’s 2010 album, National Ransom, and is co-written with Jim Lauderdale, who was also part of the touring ensemble Elvis put together at that time. Lou and I shared a festival bill with Jim at the River Town Festival in Bristol in 2017 and joined him on stage for a few songs. Our paths have crossed a few times since. Most recently I met him at a songwriter festival in Lafayette, Louisiana. Jim is one of the sweetest and funniest guys, a master of the high harmony, and has the closest living voice to that of the great George Jones. He is also a very fine country songwriter.
“The original version of ‘I Lost You’ opens with a guitar riff which then reoccurs later throughout the song. We replaced that with Steve [Nieve]’s arpeggiated piano motif. Although written originally for one voice, the song works particularly well as a conversational duet. The male character is regretting taking the woman for granted who, due to his negligence, ‘goes to strangers.’ He is feeling bereft and foolish having lost her. Of all the 12 songs we have reinterpreted as a duet for this Country Darkness album this was possibly the most straightforward to adapt for two voices. It also served as a timely reminder to both Lou and I, especially me, not to take each other for granted!” — Michael Weston King, My Darling Clementine
Artist:Ferris & Sylvester Hometowns: Somerset, England & Warwickshire, England Latest Album:I Should Be on a Train Personal nicknames: Ducky and Didi. Proudly named by Archie’s nephew, Buzz.
What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?
We’ve toured a lot over the past two years and have been lucky enough to see a lot of the world, from rooftops in Austin, Texas, to a hidden cove in The Faroe Islands. We’ve played to crowds of 12,000 and crowds of 12 and everything in-between. Probably one of our favourite moments on stage was playing Glastonbury last year. We played five sets across the weekend, one of which was in a weird, wonderful tent quite called The Rabbit Hole late on the Friday night. Naturally when you’re playing a big show, we had loads of technical problems and Archie’s kick drum pedal broke… Issy did a sing-along with the crowd whilst Archie got out a screwdriver to fix it. Archie then jumped off the stage, broke down the fence and went into the audience for his guitar solo. Meanwhile a man dressed as the mad hatter jumped up onto the stage and scared the hell out of Issy by pretending to chop her head off with an inflatable axe. THIS IS A TRUE STORY. Best show ever.
What rituals do you have, either in the studio or before a show?
We’ve really loved spending more time in our studio this year. Our studio is a small room, full of wonder with wallpaper covering the walls — no day in it is the same. One day, we’ll have the drums set up to record, the next day they’ll be replaced by a 1963 Hammond organ or a comfy red futon giving us space to write. Every corner is filled with something obscure. We love it in there. It’s where we’ve spent all of our days in the recent months and where our songs find their feet. Rituals include endless cups of tea, writing with pencils on yellow paper and recording dozens of voice notes on our phones. If we think a song is good, we’ll then spend hours crafting it and going over structure, melody and meaning. We’ll develop it in its simplest form, usually one guitar and our vocals. We’ll then work up the demo, experimenting with different instruments and sounds. This can take days. We sometimes get through five or six demos before record it properly. Other times, we stick with the first demo, knowing we captured something special and irreplaceable. It’s a lengthy process and we put everything into it.
We always warm up before a show, singing in harmony and getting in tune with each other. Lemon and ginger tea is a must. We then do a huddle with our band and sing “Cold Beer Conversation” by George Strait really out of tune. We don’t know why.
Since food and music go so well together, what is your dream pairing of a meal and a musician?
Ooh. Our two favourite things. For Archie (Sylvester), the dream pairing would be Django Reinhardt with Steak Frites sitting by the river in Samois-Sur-Seine (where Django used to live)… For Issy (Ferris), a plate of fried chicken and Little Feat. In Dixie Land.
How often do you hide behind a character in a song or use “you” when it’s actually “me”?
We try to be as honest as we can in our writing. We don’t so much “hide” behind characters, though we sometimes work from a place of reality and then play with it and make it something different, until only shadows of ourselves are recognisable in it. For instance, our song “I Should Be on a Train” isn’t really about us, but we definitely put our own frustrations as a couple into it. Getting caught up in the same toxic cycles with each other over and over again, mainly caused by stress or pressure that we put on one another. The song takes you through an imaginary scenario of a relationship ending, but concludes that it is just a thought and not a reality. We’ve never done a proper storm out on each other, never boarded a train… maybe a few slamming doors. But we worked with what we had, and took it somewhere else. We also play around with perspectives a lot. We can shift from “I” and “we” to “her,” “him” or “they” in a song, giving it layers and opinions. Again, we wouldn’t say we’re hiding, merely playing around within the story. It can be hard to expose your inner self in your songwriting, sometimes it can feel too revealing. But we always try and opt for truth.
What’s the toughest time you ever had writing a song?
Every writing experience is different and each song faces its own challenges. Probably the song which has existed in the most forms and been rewritten time and time again is “Sickness,” a song we released last year. It’s our favourite ever recording and we consider it to be one of our strongest songs. But it took over a year to get right. It first existed as a poem, then we recorded a very early demo which didn’t sit right. It didn’t have a structure and sounded so far away from the rest of our stuff at the time. We parked it and returned to it months later. We got a lot closer with next few demos, but it took a lot of time to develop it. When we took it into the studio, we were confident we’d got it right. But we had a change of heart in the session and decided it needed an extra verse and a new middle 8. We hid in Manze’s Eel and Pie House over the road from The Pool Studios in Bermondsey and wrote new lyrics, filling in the gaps. Ironically after such a lengthy writing process, we recorded it quickly on the last day of the session. Everything came together. Archie’s slide solo was recorded in one take, the vocals were recorded late into the night and were done in a few takes. It felt effortless, after all that struggle. We’re very proud of it.
Emily Barker is sitting at home in the southwest of England, as the country sweats through its worst heat wave in 60 years. There’s something not quite right about temperatures of 90 degrees F and tropical downpours flooding the sleepy villages. It’s that kind of creeping unease that’s reflected in her new album, A Dark Murmuration of Words — a moving meditation on the state of the world today, in which climate change is a recurring theme.
Barker, who recorded the songs last November, worried whether it might be too much for an audience reeling from the pandemic. “Before the album came out I was wondering: are people going to want to hear these difficult songs at a time like this? Or do they just want escapism?” In the end, she decided to release them anyway. “I know myself I’ve been needing the hard stuff as a source of comfort to feel that collective experience of all the emotions we’re going through.”
In fact, her music achieves the perfect tone for the many unsettling feelings that COVID-19 has forced us to confront. Barker’s wistful melodies bear the listener along even as her evocative lyrics take you into uncomfortable territory. “Strange Weather” grapples with the real-life conversations she has had with her musician husband Lucas about whether to bring a child into a world under threat. “Any More Goodbyes” sounds like a breakup song, says Barker, but is actually a hymn of love to vanishing species. And “Where Have the Sparrows Gone,” with its haunting chorus (“they’re where the woods were once”), takes us into a not-so-distant future where birds have abandoned London, and the city is in lockdown.
The album captures the emotions of anyone struggling to take in the frightening predictions of climate scientists and witnessing the desperate fight of environmentalists like Greta Thunberg to bring humanity to its senses before it’s too late. “Last year the climate crisis was very much at the forefront of all of our conversations and thoughts, wondering what we can do to adapt, and feeling helpless and guilty and angry and upset and all these things,” says Barker, who admits she that even as an optimistic person, she had moments, in 2019, of feeling “really, really pessimistic about it.”
Her response was to try and change her perspective to focus on her closer community. “Sometimes that’s how we cope,” she says. “I have to focus on my immediate community and the things I can change, the conversations I can have, because I can’t fix the world.” Hence the presence on this album of a tribute to Wangari Maathai, “The Woman Who Planted Trees.” The Kenyan activist’s simple individual acts of tree-planting grew an entire movement, empowering the women around her with forestry and beekeeping skills, and educating thousands of people on ecology.
Barker’s new community focus manifested in all aspects of the album’s production. “I wanted to bring in as many local artists as I could,” says Barker, whose band was made up of good friends from the UK’s thriving South West scene, including her husband. “And not only the musicians but the painter who did the art cover and the filmmakers who did the music videos. That fit with the ethos of the album but also with lockdown — we’ve got limitations now and it’s a good reason to make the work happen here.”
Stroud, the town where she lives, sits in a beautiful landscape surrounded by rivers, lakes and rolling hills. She and Lucas have just moved into a new house, and are being visited by electricians and workmen when we talk. The theme of home has been a recurrent one throughout her work, prompted by the fact that she left her country of birth 20 years ago. Having grown up in a small country town in Western Australia, she came to the UK as a backpacker in 2000, and has made her life there.
Several songs in the new album remain redolent of her love for her homeland, from the vast night skies she conjures in “When Stars Cannot Be Found” to the nostalgia of “Return Me” and “Geography,” the music to which she wrote with English rock band 10cc’s Graham Gouldman. “Eucalyptus after rain remind me who I am again,” she sings, and it makes you wonder whether having two homes rather than one is a blessing or a burden.
“It’s less easy in some ways,” Barker agrees, “because I always have this constant question of where should I be. I’m always missing at least one place. Sometimes two places! You can feel quite fragmented.” Every year she escapes the English winter to spend 10 weeks with her family down under. She had just returned before the pandemic hit.
Barker wasted no time, when lockdown began, in reaching out to her neighbours. She saw the “viral kindness” forms that Extinction Rebellion had created and posted help slips through doors on her street, asking if anyone needed someone to talk to, or their errands done. “We had five vulnerable people who were living on their own give me a call and we started doing a weekly shop for them. It was such a good way of meeting people and gave us a sense of purpose, especially with festivals and gigs being cancelled seemingly every hour.”
Purpose and mission are clearly important to Barker. At university, aware that her Australian education had celebrated colonialist settlers and taught her nothing of the oppression and injustice they had brought with them, she sought out a course taught by Indigenous historians. “That was the trigger for me looking into structural racism,” she says. “I never understood growing up why in my country town there were so few Aboriginal people — we never learned about that.”
Recent years touring the US with her friend and mentor Mary Chapin Carpenter led her to research more widely. It was Ava DuVernay’s film The 13th, about the Constitutional amendment that abolished slavery, but allowed it to continue in prisons, which inspired her song “Machine.” Written before the killing of George Floyd, her lyrics prove uncannily timely, sung from the point of view of one of the architects of a system that has oppressed Black people for centuries.
“I covered all my tracks in books on history, justified my actions through anthropology,” she sings. And then, as if anticipating the Black Lives Matter protests that have since taken hold, “a crack has appeared, it keeps me up at night… I’ve been a bully and a sinner now I’m on the way out.”
She has seen, in Australia, how the arts have influenced politics by bringing untold stories and narratives to light. Some of her favourites are Indigenous singer/songwriters Archie Roach and Gurrumul. “I feel like the story of how Australia was settled is really well-known now among your average citizen,” she says.
So there remains hope in her outlook, however challenging times may appear. As she changes her own behaviour — flying less, taking trains when on European tours — she looks for ways to help others confront theirs. “Environment and equality are very important to me,” she says. “And it’s finding the right perspective to write that from and being respectful of the people in society who are suffering.”
Artist:Midnight Skyracer Hometown: Stroud, UK Song: “Average Faces” Album:Shadows on the Moon Release Date: June 5, 2020 Label: Island Records
In Their Words: “I got the seed of inspiration for this song after overhearing a conversation outside a pub: a man’s futile attempts to chat up a woman starting with ‘I’m sure I know you from somewhere,’ with her response being ‘I don’t think so, I’ve just got one of those average faces.’ A couple of days later I wrote a rough outline of a chorus and a first verse and then roped in my twin sister (and guitarist in the band), Charlotte to help form it into a full song before sending it to the rest of the band.
“This one really came together in the studio when we added the drum track, the only part on the album not played by a band member. It was actually one of the very last things we did. We were in our final couple of hours at Real World Studios and had packed down all the mics and dividers we’d had set up for the week so that our brilliant engineer, Josh Clark, could get his drum kit set up. He was just about to go in for his first take when he smacked his head hard on one of the heavy counterweights used to balance the overhead mics. Josh may have been slightly concussed, but he nailed the part all the same!
“For the video for this song we had initially booked in to use quite a different venue, but having waited outside that one for an hour or so (eventually it turned out that the owner had had a family emergency and left their phone at home) Eleanor and Leanne started wandering about town asking in every pub, bar, and restaurant, if we could use their space to film a music video. The wonderful people at Cru Wines, Bradford on Avon, very kindly obliged and let us use their upstairs room for the day. We were all very good and held off drinking the delicious glasses of wine we used as props until we’d finished filming!” — Laura Carrivick (fiddle and dobro), Midnight Skyracer
Artist:Rumer Hometown: London, England Song: “Bristlecone Pine” (written by Hugh Prestwood) Album:Nashville Tears Release Date: April 24, 2020 Label: Cooking Vinyl
In Their Words: “In the song, the tree illustrates the continuity of spirituality, mortality, and the natural world. The tree has seen the rise and fall of civilizations, overcome harsh conditions, achieved a long life, and the narrator finds peace in that: ‘Now the way I have lived, there ain’t no way to tell, when I die if I’m going to heaven or hell. So when I’m laid to rest it would suit me just fine to sleep at the feet of the Bristlecone Pine.'” — Rumer
Artist:Cup O’Joe Hometown: County Armagh in Northern Ireland Latest album:In the Parting Personal nicknames (or rejected band names): Mug O’Tay
Answers provided by Tabitha Agnew
Which artist has influenced you the most … and how?
I would have to say that it would be Alison Krauss! Her solo recordings and recordings with Union Station have been some of the most impactful recordings for me. The first introduction to bluegrass music that I remember hearing was “Every Time You Say Goodbye” from Now That I’ve Found You: A Collection. Her releases have swayed within the bluegrass/country/gospel realms and I’ve been enjoying her music for years.
What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?
One of my favourite moments being on stage with COJ was probably getting to play at IBMA in North Carolina back in 2017 in a lineup with our good friend Niall Murphy on fiddle. It was a hoot! Glancing around on the workshop stage representing the international scene and trying to not get too nervous when we saw legends and some other top pickers walking by!
What rituals do you have, either in the studio or before a show?
I try to have had at least one cup of sharp black coffee before a show and lots of water! (Both are definitely needed!) Yep, I know it sounds like a cliché, but I definitely run on coffee!
Which elements of nature do you spend the most time with and how do those impact your work?
This question has really made me stop and think, but I think I can safely say that trees are a big source of inspiration that impact our songwriting. Two songs off the new album refer to the concept of change happening as quickly as the changing of the leaves on the trees in each new season. Currently living in the countryside of County Armagh is a big source of inspiration in general, with rolling green hills and plenty of apple trees (County Armagh is “orchard county”).
Since food and music go so well together, what is your dream pairing of a meal and a musician?
Oooh! What a tough tough question! After getting to know Mr. Ron Block, I would have to say that I would pair him with a Scottish Cheese board (with Rough Scottish Oatcakes). I think that’s a pretty 10/10 combo in my opinion and I think he would totally be okay with that!
Artist:Robert Vincent Hometown: Liverpool, England Song: “I Was Hurt Today But I’m Alright Now” Album:In This Town You’re Owned Release Date: February 14, 2020 Label: Thirty Tigers
In Their Words: “We live busier lives, less time for ourselves. Social media has thrown even greater pressures at us, creating lack of personal connection and the loss of self-esteem if we are not rewarded with the right number of likes from our electronic peers. So who knows what anyone is going through in their day? At times we all need help, but still worry more about others’ opinions and forget to help ourselves. ‘I Was Hurt Today But I’m Alright Now’ is a message written from the perspective of someone trapped in their own mind and speaking to that fearful side we all have within us to be stronger, but also easier on ourselves. And to step back into the real world.” — Robert Vincent
A lush, resplendent, living and breathing album, Sam Lee’s brand new record, Old Wow, is something of a garden — and not simply because the opening track, “The Garden of England/Seeds of Love” sets such a tone. In this arboretum, Lee is collecting the most rare and fragile of cultivars — ancient folk songs. He is carefully tending them, gently fertilizing, grafting, hybridizing, and cross-pollinating them with bits of himself, bits of this global moment, and bits of this generation.
BGS contributor Justin Hiltner strolled down New Orleans’ Canal Street with Lee during Folk Alliance International to find a secluded, sunshine-y balcony for a chat about action, queerness, folk traditions, fatherhood, and much more.
My first experience with the new record was the video for “The Garden of England.” It felt so lush and verdant, it immediately made me think of your relationship with nature and the ecosystems you operate in, as well as your environmental activism. How strong of a presence do you think that part of your life — the activism, especially the environmental aspects — carries through the album? It’s visible in a lot of places overtly, but there’s an undercurrent in there, too.
It’s funny, you use all of the words that I use, “How overt/covert” or “how implicit/explicit it should be.” Since the previous album I’ve gone through a very different journey of who I am, what I am meant to be doing, and why I’m doing music. I’ve come to the acceptance that actually, first and foremost, I’m an activist, not a musician. Music is the medium through which I disseminate, articulate my activism and my beliefs within that.
I’m very thrilled that I can do it in a way that is emotionally guided, as opposed to having to be statistically informed, or having the best persuasive political argument, which I’m terrible at. Through the mediums of song, ancient song, song that’s connected to the land by nature of its ancestry, I found I’ve got these really unusual resources and tools.
Something I like to ask musicians a lot is, how do we make this music relevant? How do we show people it’s not just throwback music or time capsule music? What I heard you describing is that you’ve found a relevance in these old songs for this current moment in geological time, due to the climate crisis, but also socially and politically.
It is that, but I say it’s more about the essence of the songs. … I’m playing with tradition, but there’s a certain distillation process that I’m using within them, which like any distillation process is also highly adulterative and adaptive. I’m contorting them, but I’m also working with an unusual aesthetic, because that’s all we can do, be artists. I’m taking risks.
Like, with videos like [“The Garden of England”] and the one that’s just come out last week for “Lay This Body Down.” I’m going to use mainstream values and imagery and concept on some deeply ancient ideas in a way that doesn’t really happen very much. And I’m not saying that’s because I’m pioneering! [Laughs]
I think it’s a vital thing to have to address, how does one tell these stories in ways that are going to be digestible by a new audience? One that actually would never encounter the tradition, in certain ways, because in the UK we live in a very musically segregated society. Most people aren’t thinking about music or that music can change identity, especially on such an ancient level. I’m having to test these things out.
Roots music and eroticism don’t really feel like they go together. “Lay This Body Down” feels so timeless and ancient, but the video for it has this level of eroticism and sensuality that feels current. I may be projecting my own queerness onto it, but I wanted to ask you how much of that eroticism comes from your queerness, or doesn’t it?
You know, you might be the first person to ask me these questions. Generally music journalists where I come from are uninterested in that, or the ones that are wouldn’t come across me.
I didn’t approach it from a sense of wanting to work with queerness, I love working with dance. I come from a dance background
And dance is very queer as is.
It is, but why does it have to be? Because the irony is, and it shouldn’t make any difference, that all the dancers in that video are heterosexual. That doesn’t matter, but it was so wonderful working with men who were actually very comfortable with their heterosexuality, but also in their intimacy and physicality and their sense of body contact. Working and being in that space was so energizing. It wasn’t erotic, it was simply sensual. The funny thing is it comes across as erotic, as homoerotic, but in all honesty I think that’s the viewer’s perception.
Maybe what I mean by “the video feels queer” or “dance itself is queer” is more accurately, “It leaves the door open for non-normative ideas and feelings.” Is that what you mean? The viewer can sense this because you left a crack open in the door of normativity for people to step through?
You’re absolutely right, and I’m very conscious of that. There’s a very Caravaggio-ness to this film. You couldn’t put any more arrows pointing [toward eroticism and homoeroticism.] I’m also fascinated with the queerness of folk song, particularly in the ambiguity when men are singing from the perspective of women and all those sort of rule-breaking things that were never rules in the first place.
I think it’s only the conservatism, in the sense of boxing what “is” and what “isn’t,” that binary-ness, that starts to do that. When you actually go back into history, those sorts of boundaries [weren’t as present], and I think that’s what I’m celebrating a little bit.
It’s a song about death, actually. These aren’t sexual beings, they’re mortal or immortal or transitionary. Their nakedness is as much about that shedding of materiality of the living and this idea of the trajectory from one realm to the other. They’re all expressions of myself… That’s what these movements are all about, for me.
That sort of ambiguity you mention, “Sweet Sixteen” felt to me like it was pulling from that tradition — am I reading too much into that? Where did that song come from?
Interesting. It’s not [from that], in fact, for me it’s the most heterosexual moment of my entire career, that song. [Laughs]
Interesting! And right, I heard heterosexuality in it, but also — and again, perhaps this is my projection — more than that, too.
This is the funny thing about making music, once you’ve put [the songs] out, you don’t own them anymore. They’re not yours. And never would I ever want to make music that was utterly explicit.
The song was a really hard one to choose to do and I don’t know why I did choose to do it. It’s actually more about me being a parent, because I’ve become a dad. In many ways I’m living in a heteronormative set up, even though it is unusual. We’re not together and we don’t live together and we never have, but the itinerant-ness of being a musician and leaving mum doing most of the care requires a little bit of me acknowledging that, through song.
This is my acceptance that I am a bit of that, packing my bag and heading off, away from the family set up. It also holds a little bit of my judgment upon that nuclear family thing, of husband and wife and child at home, and my terror of that. Which, I think has nothing to do with being gay. I think if I was straight I’d probably feel like that, too. [Laughs] It’s very much me trying to channel what a baby’s mother is thinking.
You carry on this tradition of folk singing unencumbered by music, a capella, but that to me, as someone who is a singer and musician, is kind of terrifying. The space that you play with, as a vocalist, on this record feels so vulnerable. What does it feel like to you?
I think I’m quite comfortable with vulnerability. Which is sort of a paradox, in a way, because the point of vulnerability is that it is uncomfortable. I think that space of exposure, for me, is a very exciting place. It’s not exciting because I get to see myself more, it’s because by being vulnerable you have to step outside the realm of protection, of comfort, of security. In that position you can do much more interesting things, finding perspective and placement and by that, a relationality to the world around you.
[Sometimes] you have to be an outsider, and that’s something that, by nature of who I am — by being gay, by being Jewish, by being the kid that never quite fit into any of the places that I was I’ve always been in that position. It’s a place I’ve always been drawn to, most artists are like that one way or another. I’m not particularly exceptional, I’m not saying I’m necessarily special, but that’s something that I’ve certainly been accustomed to.
When it comes carrying on the tradition, I did exactly the same. I went down the deepest root of folk music, but never went fully into those folk scenes. I was always an outsider in the folk world. I was always an outsider in these deep traditions, I was never part of the communities that I’m learning from. Yet, at the same time, you find yourself weirdly in the center of these places as well. This idea of, there is no center and there is no outside. Actually, these are all constructs only in our minds and we are all outsiders in the end.
When it comes to the music — and it’s funny, because I didn’t mix the album, though I was very involved in it — when [producer] Bernard Butler did that we were very aware of keeping the voice up front and center. Maybe there’s a little bit of ego and selfishness that he’s recognizing. That, as a singer, you need to be center. You are your voice. Not because I want to be up front, but maybe because I’m very clear about what I want to say in this record, so I think I have to mark my place in that respect.
Pet Yeti is a UK-based bluegrass band made up of some of England and Northern Ireland’s finest pickers. Their debut album, Space Guitars, is a collection of original tunes and reimagined takes on classics like Michael Bolton’s “Said I Loved You…But I Lied” and Ola Belle Reed’s “I’ve Endured.”
The band includes Benjamin Agnew on bass, Reuben Agnew on guitar, John Breese on banjo, Kieran Towers on fiddle, and Joe Tozer on mandolin. In an email interview with we learned more about the group, what they hoped to achieve with this album, and where they’re headed.
BGS: Was there anything particularly memorable or special about making this album? What was the experience like?
Pet Yeti: The most memorable thing about recording this album was probably recording the Michael Bolton cover “Said I Loved You…But I Lied.” The decision to record that track was very last minute but everyone jumped into it with enthusiasm. Seeing it come together was surprising because we had not really known what a bluegrass cover of such a track would sound like. The result had us really satisfied, such to an extent that I think it suits the album nicely and we would really miss it if it was not included.
It was also a real privilege to record with Josh Clark of Get Real Audio. Not only as a friend of ours but also because he brings a finesse and professional ear for bluegrass music that is hard to find, even with comparisons to great recording engineers from the US. He also took a lead production role in the making of the album, which by itself would usually be big undertaking, so that we can say the album really has been shaped by him.
What was your goal with this album, musically speaking?
The original goal of the album was to be a voice for what Pet Yeti could do to authenticate ourselves in the bluegrass scene. However, it turned into a representation of all the band members’ individual tastes and interpretations. It is not often that a song like “Space Guitars,” based on the story of Doc from the Back to the Future movies, is on the same album as Michael Bolton covers and old-time music! I think the goal became the enjoyment of playing music and trying to put that across in every track that we could.
Do the five of you come from differing musical backgrounds? If so, how do you think those differences influence the overall sound of Pet Yeti?
Every band member in Pet Yeti comes with an appreciation of bluegrass music and we have all been followers of bluegrass growing up, though we all have our own genres that we enjoy delving into — whether that be the likes of old-time to Oasis to gypsy swing. I think it’s a really healthy mix to have a core interest but also to bring in the diverseness of individual interests because it means everyone in the band has a voice, even if we are not all singing. I think it’s this mix that separates Pet Yeti from a lot of other bluegrass ensembles.
You cover a lot of ground with this album, from carefully crafted gems like “I’m Turning Away” to high energy barn-burners like “Drinking Since the Day I Was Born.” Has that wide array of sounds added a new dynamic to your live shows?
While I do think the dynamic of Pet Yeti set list shows off the diverseness in our musical ability, a big aim of the set is that the audience enjoys the music. Not only with the energetic numbers, but also with lighthearted back stories of the originals.
Did you have a plan or idea of how this album should come together, or did it come together more organically while recording?
The album really is a product of a very organic process. We came together shortly before recording and developed how all of us would like the album to be recorded. However, a lot of the best parts of the album came during recording and because of the input of our excellent sound engineer. I think you need to allow this sort of organic process to keep things fresh.
You all have experience playing in other musical projects (Cup O’ Joe, Cardboard Fox, Kieran Towers & Charlotte Carrivick, etc.). What are some ways Pet Yeti is unique and different from your other projects?
Elaborating on an earlier question, Pet Yeti gives everything that you would expect from our other musical projects but with a lot more of each band members’ individual personalities and experience. Not one member of Pet Yeti is the “front man”, which is clearly seen in the album, giving each track in Space Guitars some other member the spotlight. Every band needs teamwork but Pet Yeti really relies on each member to create the overall sound of the band.
How has this album challenged you to grow as musicians?
The album has given us the opportunity firstly, as friends, to develop a unique sound together and have fun doing it. It also let us enjoy recording on a level that’s not as stressful and serious as other projects while maintaining musical integrity and making production enjoyable. Perhaps one challenge we have gone away with is how to put that enjoyment into all the music we produce and play from now on.
If you could perform this album at any venue, where would it be? Why?
While playing at any bluegrass festival in the UK, the US, or otherwise would be a privilege, the possibility to play as part the wider Glastonbury Festival would be a great opportunity and more ideal space for our unique flavour of bluegrass.
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