Texas, Townes, and the Truth

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In advance of the release of Vincent Neil Emerson’s latest, critically-acclaimed album, The Golden Crystal Kingdom – which dropped on November 10 – BGS moderated a conversation between VNE and his friend and peer, country & western singer-songwriter and song-interpreter Charley Crockett.

Both artists cut their teeth in music venues in Texas a decade ago. In our conversation, they tell the story of how they came to know each other and discuss ways they protect each other within the business. They talk about covering and cutting each other’s songs and the importance of telling their truths.

Emerson’s new album, produced by Shooter Jennings, veers his sound toward warm ’60s rock and folk influences. He opens up to Charley and BGS about its creation process and what is on the horizon for him.

Charley Crockett: What’s up, Vincent?

Vincent Neil Emerson: What’s up, my boy?

CC: Another day, another dollar.

BGS: Tell me where you both are in the world right now.

VNE: I’m in Asheville, North Carolina, right now, at an Airbnb.

CC: I’m up here in San Luis Valley in Southern Colorado.

Both really nice places to be in the fall.

VNE: You ain’t wrong.

Can you give us a little bit of context about your relationship, where you know each other from, and how long you have been working together?

VNE: Charley, you wanna go?

CC: Oh man, I always tell that story; I wanna hear it from you.

VNE: I met Charley in Deep Ellum. We were playing around town, playing a lot of shows around there and Fort Worth. That was over 10 years ago, maybe?

CC: I was trying to think about it this morning. I think it had to be ’13 or ’14.

VNE: That’s crazy, man.

CC: He remembers it being at Adair Saloon; I remember it being at the Freeman. It really don’t matter, ’cause I’m sure it was both places.

VNE: I’m sure we went and had a drink at Adairs or something like that.

CC: I remember I walked up on him and said, “I like all them Justin Townes Earle songs.” And he said, “I only played one.” I always liked what he was doing, and he used to play solo and do the guitar pools up at Magnolia Motor Lounge all the time. He’d be up there smoking a cigarette, picking through them songs like Townes Van Zandt, and I thought, “Oh lord have mercy, this boy is a force to be reckoned with.”

VNE: Man, I felt the same way as soon as I heard you, brother. I remember a couple of nights I saw you at the Freeman with this band. You had a bunch of guys up on that tiny little stage, and you were just ripping through all these songs, taking all these old honky tonk songs and flipping them on their head and turning them into blues and vice versa. I always thought that was so cool, man.

CC: I don’t remember that well, but I guess you’re right. In those days, every gig we played for both me and Vincent, we ended up getting booked by the same folks, or they were all standing together in some bar, no matter if it was Ft. Worth or Nashville or Los Angeles. One way or another, all them same business folks been standing pretty close to me and Vincent. And that’s the truth.

Well, that’s convenient if you like to work together, I guess. Charley, do you have questions you want to dig in on?

CC: You know, Erin, I don’t even know what the hell we are doing?

Let’s talk about the release of Vincent’s new album.

CC: Well, let me just do this then. Everything he’s been putting out with Shooter [Jennings], like everything else he’s ever done…If you sit there looking at Vincent and he surprises you, it’s like, “Oh damn, I didn’t know old boy was gonna do that.” The very next thing he does, it just happens again — every single time. I remember when he was playing “7 Come 11” way before anybody gave a damn about him and was looking out for his interests or his career. He had all them songs in his pocket way before anybody had ideas or designs on him and his business. I’ve said for a long time that “7 Come 11” is one of the best folk songs written out of Texas in 20 years. Remember Central Track, Vincent?

VNE: Yeah, they did a lot of write-ups on music.

CC: I will never forget that stuff when you did that record and what you were doing live. Erin, he was playing for 50 bucks and a case of Lone Star in them dive bars in Fort Worth, you know? He was living in a 10×10 room. He was hardly ever even standing inside of the damn joint.

A handful of us showed up at the same time, and we are all moving on our own paths, but we’ve all stayed pretty close, or we damn sure weave it together quite a bit even if we get way out there, you know, in the territories, we always come back to each other. I think I met Leon Bridges right around the same time that I met Vincent. I met him in Deep Ellum, too. There is a guy who plays guitar with me now named Alexis Sanchez. He had a band back then, and he was playing at Club Dada there for some little festival, and Leon Bridges was standing there in a trench coat and a bowler hat. I venture to guess that me and Leon and Vincent met each other damn near about the same time. There were a lot of other folks like that. Ten years later, especially for some Texas guys, you know, we’ve all grown a lot, and I think we have always supported each other and loved each others’ music. That’s only grown, and Vincent is standing there as one of the premier, original, authentic talents to come out of Texas since the turn of the damn century. I’m not blowing smoke. I’m just stating what is already happening.

VNE: Man, that is high praise. I appreciate you sayin’ that, Charley.

CC: Well, they want all this shit to write about it, but that’s just the truth. He was playing in Fort Worth and like I said, playing for all that low money. They were calling him Lefty. Why did they call you Lefty? I figured it was because you had a black eye or something.

VNE: Yeah, I had my left eye knocked out of the socket one time, and the nickname stuck for a while.

CC: I remember they wrote about you pretty salaciously there in the Fort Worth Weekly. I know a thing or two about that myself.

VNE: I would say it was because they were trying to sell papers, but it was a free publication.

CC: Shit, they are selling advertisements. I think the Dallas Observer is still doing that to me.

He was playing them bars, we were playing them bars. I don’t know which one of us is which, but more often than not, he sure seems like if I’m Waylon, he’s Willie. I have felt like that for a long time. You could change the names. I think about this stuff a lot. The business folks, it is always hard to tell what they are doing, but you can be sure they are rolling dice and betting and gambling on folks. It ends up being, a guy like Vincent that somebody like me can lean on a lot more. We can trust those guys, and I’m real happy with who I’m working with, and I’m sure Vincent is, too. It is the other artists living life for the song that gets us through. I know I feel like that about Vincent, and I feel like that about a lot of other guys I don’t know as well as him.

Kind of like Johnny Cash said, “We are all family, even though some of us barely know each other.” I think it is because we can see each other and know we are in the same boat and in that way, care more for each other than other people would. I think it is pretty serious. It is life and death.

VNE: That’s a good feeling to not feel so alone in that way and have people out there and doing things similar to you. They probably think a lot of the same thoughts. Me and you are good buddies, Charley, and I feel that way, too. I feel like some guys out there like Tyler Childers – I really respect him, and I feel like he is in the same boat as us. I’m not as well known as you guys, but I think none of that really matters. I think what it comes down to is that we are all songwriters trying to make our own stories happen and be true to ourselves and honest to the world. I think that the reason we can relate to each other is the same reason the fans can relate. Honesty will cut through anything and bring people together.

CC: One way or another, them folks we are selling tickets to, they know.

VNE: You can’t fake the funk, I guess.

CC: Eventually, it comes through. Speaking of Tyler Childers, we ended up on the same plane flying from Nashville to Austin recently… I was there for the Country Music Hall of Fame induction and I didn’t want to go. I get real antisocial and want to hide out from everybody and shit, and I went to Nashville kicking and screaming. Tanya Tucker was getting inducted to the Hall of Fame with a couple of other people. Patty Loveless and Bob McDill, who I wasn’t that familiar with. I had thought that he’d written the Jimmy C. Newman song, “Louisiana Saturday Night”, which I know real well. To be honest with you, it is the only reason I agreed to go out there, ’cause I love singing that song. I made a lot of money writing songs off of that song, so I figured I owed whoever the songwriter was. Long story short, there in the last week, I found out it was a different “Louisiana Saturday Night,” regularly mistakenly attributed to Bob McDill cause he wrote a totally separate song called “Louisiana Saturday Night” that Mel McDaniel had a big hit with, and that’s the one that goes,

“Well, you get down the fiddle and you get down the bow
Kick off your shoes and you throw ’em on the floor
Dance in the kitchen ’til the mornin’ light
Louisiana Saturday night”

That was a big ol hit, right Vincent? He did “Baby’s Got Her Blue Jeans On,” and a bunch of shit like that that I just didn’t realize. My naive, ignorant ass goes up there to Nashville kicking and screaming, and that’s how I feel. A horse gets led to water or something like that. I saw Tanya get inducted. I damn near built my career off of my version of “Jamestown Ferry” when I was younger, and I realized that she had blazed that trail for me, and I had not shown her enough respect. I really hadn’t. Same thing with Bob McDill. All those songs he wrote and the advice he gave in his speech, and my dumbass could really shut up and pay attention to these folks.

Then I ran into Tyler going from there. He was flying to Austin to do a John Prine tribute. That’s how it is. When I see Tyler, I’m on a plane. When I see Vincent, it is at Monterey Fairgrounds. We are ships passing in the night. All these guys like Tyler, Colter [Wall], Leon, Vincent. Whenever I see them, they got a big light around them, and it is shining. You just want it to keep shining for them, and for myself, to keep it going,

I don’t know exactly where you want to go with this, Erin, but I’m excited about this record. Shooter was telling me about your songs and offered to send them and I was like, “No, I ain’t gonna do that. I wanna be like everyone else.” I wanna watch this thing get rolled out, and I wanna be excited. I’m looking forward to going through the songs.

Vincent, can you tell us about working with Shooter on this record?

VNE: I met Shooter a few times. Me and Charley were at this festival in Iowa hanging out, and Shooter came up to me and tapped me on the shoulder. I’d met him before at another festival but I’d never talked to him. He turned me around and said, “Hey man, I really like that thing you did with Rodney Crowell.” He paid me a lot of compliments, and since then, we talked, and when it came time to make another record, Shooter was the first guy I thought of. I thought it would be such a cool idea to work with him on an album. One thing about him is he really is one of the nicest people I’ve ever met, and he is a genuine fan of music. He’s trying to make cool things happen. I’m so lucky I got to work with him on it. That is the big takeaway from the whole thing for me was making a real good friend like that and meeting someone who gets me excited about songwriting and about making an album and making music in general.

Since Charley cut “7 Come 11” and you cut one of Charley’s songs for this record, can you talk about what prompted “Time of the Cottonwood Trees” winding up in this pile of songs?

VNE: Oh man – that song. Me and you were on tour together for three months, was it last summer? We did a bunch of dates, and we were on the road a long time, and I was listening to Charley do that song every night. It was a brand new song that hadn’t come out on his record yet. I got to hear him sing that song every night by himself, and I just think it is one of the best songs I’ve ever heard. It is one of my favorites from you, Charley. I think it is a fine example of songwriting. When it came time to make this album, I always wanted to pay tribute to you and cut one of your songs on a record because you cut “7 Come 11.” That really ties back into that whole Willie and Waylon and all those old timers who cut each others’ songs and lifted each other up like that. I just wanted to pay tribute to you, and that’s why I put it on the album.

CC: Shit, I appreciate it. I’ll be excited to get the check in the mail. You surprised the hell out of me with that one, you really did. I’ve always wanted people to cut my songs. Sometimes, I think I’d be better off that way. I have so many. I’ve always cut a lot of songs that weren’t mine, probably about half of them. And I got about a 250-song catalog of published shit. I would guess about 40-50% are songs I didn’t write. I feel like I’ve caught a lot of heat for that. People have an idea about me that I never wrote a single song. I think that’s because we live in an era where, like what Vincent was talking about, where all those folks back in the day, across genres, and it wasn’t just country it was pop, folk, soul, R&B. It was everything. Everyone was cutting each other’s songs. I just really think that to write a great song, you have to learn great songs from other people.

You have to watch out for these publishers these days. They’ll just put any piece of junk out as long as they’ve got control over it. They figured out they can make money selling junk. If you can make more money than ever before selling junk and you aren’t principled, and you aren’t that close to the music, well, they don’t see the reason not to do it that way. I think it feels like a renaissance.

VNE: Specifically in the genre of country music, there is a lot of junk out there. I don’t want to put anyone down. Most of the time, I just try to ignore whatever I don’t like. I think that’s the best way to go about it. I think there is room at the table for everybody, whatever you are into. I just think it is so cool that Sturgill and Charley and Colter and Tyler, all these other guys that are out here putting out real, honest-to-goodness songwriter songs. And not just that, but real country music. It doesn’t matter if it is your song or someone else’s; if you are telling that story honestly, I think that’s great. I’ve always appreciated you for that, Charley. I think you are a great interpreter of songs, and I think you are an even better songwriter, man.

CC: Damn, I’m glad I talked to y’all this morning. I feel better.

I’m glad that we are talking about cutting songs because that is such a huge part of country music, interpreting other people’s songs or reinterpreting a song. It feels like that art was lost in the past 20 years or so and it is having a resurgence. I’m excited that you guys are at the forefront of that, because great songs have more than one life. And it is an opportunity for songwriters to make more money.

VNE: I think it is one of the greatest compliments that a songwriter could receive – to have an artist who they love and respect cut one of their songs.

CC: There is no question about that. That is the best feeling.

VNE: It is, cause you know that your songs has legs and can go places that you can’t, which is a great feeling.

CC: It really is. It is such a political world, and it is so divided. There is a lot of pressure on people that you step out there into the great mirror of society, and the more out there in front of the public that you get, there is a mirror that starts projecting on you, and it is tough to deal with. It is hard to know what to do, but the thing about it is – being able to write honest songs and tell the truth in your writing; that is the most rewarding feeling. That is why I always look forward to what Vincent is doing. There aren’t a whole lot of people that I anticipate their new works as much as him, if anybody really. That’s the whole deal. You look over, and he’s writing better and better, and it makes me want to write better, too.

Speaking of, Vincent, can you talk a bit about your writing process for this record?

VNE: I kind of pieced together songs over time. Sometimes they jump out real fast; sometimes it takes a while. And thanks for saying that Charley, brother. Damn.

CC: I’ve been saying it for 10 years.

VNE: That’s kept me going a lot of times and I don’t think you realize that. These songs – damn, what was I saying?

CC: You were saying sometimes they come quick, sometimes they come slow.

VNE: I’m very influenced by the music that I’m listening to and that is why I try to be real careful about what I listen to. I think it is like if I’m making a smoothie. I gotta put certain ingredients in my brain, and it comes out me on the other end, hopefully. I was listening to a lot of Neil Young and Steven Stills and David Crosby. A lot of the ’60s rock and roll and a lot of Bob Dylan stuff. That’s just where I was in my headspace, so I was taking in all that. I try to put it all together to make it my own. That’s where I was at when I was making this album.

By the way, I’m excited about this rodeo we are playing together, Charley.

CC: Which one is that?

VNE: The National Finals in Las Vegas.

CC: Oh shit yeah! At the Virgin Theater there? Yeah man, I’m excited about it, too. Thanks for doing it.

VNE: Thanks for having me on.

CC: When it comes to money and shit like that, just any time, whatever you gotta do to make it work cause I wanna keep playing with you as much as we can and build up. I’ve played in some arenas recently, and I really don’t like it. I don’t know if country music belongs in arenas. And I just mean opening. I can’t sell tickets to no damn arena. And I take a cue from Colter cause he and Tyler and them boys, they could be in arenas all day long if they wanted to be. I would rather play rodeos and municipal auditoriums and really special theaters and stack ‘em up. I think we need to get a goddamned Dripping Springs reunion tour going. A real one.

VNE: Man, that’d be great.

CC: You know what I mean, just do some of our own shit. My aunt and uncle and a bunch of people who haven’t been out to see me play in a long time are coming out to Vegas. I used to live with my uncle when I was a kid in Louisiana and Mississippi and shit. He’s gonna flip his shit when he sees you.

VNE: I can’t wait, man, I’ve heard so many stories about him.

CC: He’s wild. We gonna show these folks what country music actually sounds like. They might not be able to tell who is left or right. Nahhh I’m just kidding it is a bunch of cool people.

Thank y’all for letting me be a part of this. I’m just happy to help out or talk about this. I’m real excited about the album for real. The imagery in your writing, man, it’s like everything you write is getting more and more vivid. You paint such a picture. I’ll stop blowing smoke up your ass.

I’m gonna get back on the trail and Vincent, I’ll talk to you soon.

VNE: Thank you for doing this brother, I appreciate you.


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Photo Credit: Vincent Neil Emerson by Thomas Crabtree; Charley Crockett by Bobby Cochran

Basic Folk: Tré Burt

This week we have a Basic Folk hero returning to the pod! Tré Burt is back today, going track by track through his new album, Traffic Fiction. I am a longtime fan of Tré’s music, and this new release on Oh Boy Records is my favorite of his records so far. It combines what fans have come to love about Tré’s writing and unmistakable vocal performances with a new infusion of soul and Motown-inspired styles. The soulful grooves of Traffic Fiction are souvenirs of Tré’s close relationship with his grandfather, who recently passed away. Tré recalls listening to his pops’ favorite records and invites us into his family’s musical lineage.

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The heart of the album are field recordings that Tré made of his grandfather while he was still alive. Just two people, talking about music, talking about life, encouraging one another. The simple moments that mean the most when somebody is gone. And they give us insight into one of the greatest triumphs of Traffic Fiction, which is the transformation of melancholy into dancing. You can’t help but move your body when you hear this music, even as Tré deals with profound loss. He reminds us that being an Important Artist is not incompatible with having fun. And isn’t that what great Black artists do? Tell you the story of a tragedy in a way that somehow makes you feel joyful?


Photo Credit: Justin Hughes

Rhiannon Giddens Releases ‘You’re the One,’ Her First Album of All Originals

It’s remarkable that a prolific artist such as Rhiannon Giddens could reach this juncture in her career and still be accomplishing notable firsts. This time, she’s putting out her first album of all original material – called You’re the One – since she began her post-Carolina Chocolate Drops solo career in the 2010s. On a recent airing of CBS Saturday Morning, Giddens and her band performed two tracks from the album: “Too Little, Too Late, Too Bad” and the project’s title track, “You’re the One.”

From a genre perspective, You’re the One is one of Giddens’ most expansive works to date, drawing on her endless knowledge of folk and vernacular musics to craft a sound that’s rootsy, yes, but ultimately demonstrates the down home, everyday, and Black origins of all popular American musics. “Too Little, Too Late, Too Bad,” for instance, was co-written with Giddens’ longtime friend and collaborator, fiddler Dirk Powell, to channel the late, legendary Aretha Franklin. The album includes accordions, horns, globally-inspired percussion (by Giddens’ partner Francesco Turrisi), countrypolitan strings, and so much more. Produced by Jack Splash, You’re the One seems to draw on Giddens’ penchant for the theatrical more prominently than previous outings. She did, after all, just win a Pulitzer Prize for her opera, Omar, so the performative elements of this record seem to draw equally from folk and stage traditions.

Among a discography chocked full of essential works, You’re the One is still a landmark release by Giddens, further establishing – and complicating – her unique and indelible voice and once again highlighting the diverse and representative lineages that gave rise to all American roots music forms, with joy and love centered in every note.


Photo Credit: Ebru Yildiz

One to Watch: Country Singer-Songwriter Julie Williams

With her warm, agile voice and potent lyricism, Julie Williams is taking the country music world by storm. On June 2 she released her self-titled EP containing 6 original, remarkable tracks. Through her narrative lyrics and captivating melodies, Williams’ songs discuss a wide palate of her lived experience — as a Black woman living in the South, as a navigator of harmful sexual encounters, as someone who has loved, and as someone who has lost. Her record will take listeners on an evocative journey through her emotional landscapes, with peaks and troughs and everything in between.

Currently based in Nashville, Williams’ robust and radiant presence is enlivening the Music City landscape and beyond. Earlier this year, she was selected as one of CMT’s Next Women of Country, where she joins other major talent alumni of the Next Women of Country such as Margo Price, Kacey Musgraves, Lainey Wilson, Brittney Spencer, Lauren Alaina, Madeline Edwards, Maren Morris, Morgan Wade, and many more.

Williams is also a seasoned member of the Black Opry Revue, a collective based in Nashville that features Black artists in country, Americana, blues, and folk music. Her current solo tour is in full-swing as she enchants summertime audiences across the country.

BGS: Can you tell me a little bit about your personal history with music? Do you come from a line of musicians? Or did you find this path on your own?

JW: Neither of my parents play music or sing. There was always this joke in my family that I would listen to what my parents did and do the opposite. … There’s definitely a history of musicians in my extended family, but it wasn’t necessarily something where I grew up with everybody playing an instrument around me.

My parents always joked that I told them, “I can sing.” Ever since I was little, it was my way to relieve stress when on an airplane or a car ride or something. I was singing songs, making up songs, singing Barney songs. And I think for them, it wasn’t until they went to an elementary school play of mine, and saw me compared to some of the other kids, that they realized I actually could sing a little bit better. When I was in middle school I started singing national anthems and then I would sing at beach bars and restaurants and weddings. That was kind of my early start into professional singing. Then, when I got to college, I started songwriting and turned into the artist that I am now, but I’ve always been making some sort of noise.

You knew from the very start! On your EP, you share a lot of really beautiful narrative songs, and I’m wondering about your creative process. When does it become clear to you which of your stories needs to become a song?

I do write a lot of narrative songs. That’s what I love. I always write lyrics first. Usually, it’s just a dump, like a poem, that comes out. Sometimes [it’s] not even a really good and properly formatted poem, but then I kind of piece that together and turn it into a song, or I bring it to somebody that I really trust to help me bring the story to life, and together we turn it into the song.

I started with my creative process after I took a songwriting class when I first moved to Nashville with this amazing professor at Vanderbilt, Deanna Walker. She made the point that good lyrics should be able to stand on their own. The best songs can make you feel something from just reading. It really stuck with me.

That question of knowing which stories ultimately make it into song — I ask myself that same question all the time. Because sometimes I think, “Oh, I’m gonna write a song about that.” Then I sit and I try to conjure up something and nothing comes, or nothing that I feel is worth putting out into the world. But I don’t like to push things in my songwriting. Sometimes, if I just have a word, or I just have a phrase, or maybe a few lines about a story, I will leave it and wait. Because, six months later, something else has happened. I begin to process whatever that moment was a little bit differently, and all of a sudden, it just begins to flow.

I really like to write songs that make somebody really feel something or see themselves in a certain way or something that has a kind of unique twist, even if it’s a love song or a breakup song. Sometimes I have to wait until I can find that perspective in an everyday moment before it turns into a song.

You do that so beautifully! I’d like to ask more about those collaborators you mentioned—can you tell me a bit about your work with the Black Opry and how you became involved?

I was in Pigeon Forge, actually, to play a show at the Listening Room there with a friend of mine named Bonner. I think there were only like five people there, so we were kind of down in the dumps a bit. But I posted, “We’re here in Pigeon Forge,” and Holly G of the Black Opry, who I’d never met in person, messaged me on Instagram. She said they were having a Black Opry show at Dollywood, and we should come by after our show. We went and caught the last song of the show. [Afterward] everyone was hanging at the hotel and I got to meet Holly G, Tanner D, Aaron Vance, Roberta Lea, Crys Matthews, Virginia Prater, who is my booking agent now — a lot of the people that became part of my family. We all hung out in this hotel room, passing around a guitar, singing songs.

I just immediately felt so comfortable and at home. These people felt like my cousins! I told Holly, “Look, I would love to be involved with Black Opry. I’m single, I have no responsibility right now, just put me on the road! I will play any show, any place, any time.” She put me on a few Black Opry runs; before those runs were happening I was thinking that I was done in Nashville. I wasn’t feeling like my career was moving forward. I really felt kind of lost, creatively. I hadn’t yet found those creative collaborators. And when I did that first Black Opry run, everything just clicked and I knew I needed to be a part of it because it just felt like magic.

Wow, it sounds like your whole world expanded. Is there any advice you would give to aspiring Black artists looking to break into the country music scene?

I think my advice would be that it’s hard to do this alone. It can feel like you’re on an island. But it’s so much easier to do this work when you have other people around you that really support and uplift you. Reach out to the Black Opry, or the NSAI chapter near you. Set aside some of that energy that you’re putting towards your own individual projects into building community — even if that’s an online community at first. That’s how I met a lot of people during COVID time and after the murder of George Floyd, that’s when so many Black artists were coming out.

It just makes it so much easier to be in spaces where there are people around you who just get it, and who really believe in you and care for you and support you. Why build a car that only one person can get into and make it just a few miles down the road? Why don’t we instead all build a bus together that has space for everyone and we can all get there together? It’s just so much more fulfilling and honestly so much more fun.

What a beautiful metaphor, thank you for sharing that. Speaking of communal support and inspiration, you’re being featured as “One to Watch,” but do you have any ones you’re watching? Who is inspiring you these days?

I have this Spotify playlist called “Big Blue House and Her Sisters” of songs that feel like musical sisters of “Big Blue House.” There are a lot of artists on there that really inspire me. I would also say Denitia, a Black Opry artist who was named CMT Equal Access Artist — an incredible singer, songwriter, producer — just a powerhouse. We met at a Black Opry show in September and have become best friends. Also, you can’t be following what’s happening in Black music and queer music right now and not know the force that is Autumn Nicholas. Their performance at Love Rising had everyone in that room, thousands of people including myself, in tears. Lastly, Raye Zaragoza is an amazing Asian, Indigenous, and Latinx artist. I had the honor of meeting her on the Cayamo Cruise. She has been such an inspiration to me as a songwriter in the ways that she incorporates all of her identity into everything she makes, and her songs have such resonance and power that really make you feel. There’s no way you can listen to her songs and not feel moved and inspired by them, which is everything I’m trying to do in my songwriting, and I think she does it flawlessly.


Photo Credit: Mackenzie Ryan

Basic Folk – Miko Marks & Rissi Palmer

Rissi Palmer and Miko Marks have been laying the foundation for country musicians and fans who are Black for almost 20 years. Back in the early 2000s, both experienced the trials and tribulations of being Black women in country. Despite their successes and large growing fanbase, they were separately discouraged by the ceilings and roadblocks they encountered from the white-dominated industry. Even though they each nearly quit music, they discovered a deep and meaningful ally and friend in each other. Now, they are back in the spotlight in a different era that has seen a rise of Black musicians – and The Black Opry in Nashville. Recently, Rissi and Miko have been touring together and we got them both on the show to talk about their parallel experiences, their friendship, and what they’ve been up to recently. It was a sincere honor and a blast to speak with these inspiring women.

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This month The Bluegrass Situation is highlighting The Black Opry as Artist of the Month. Basic Folk, a part of The Bluegrass Situation Podcast Network, is proud to present this episode in collaboration with our BGS motherhost.


Photo Credit: Cedrick Jones

Frankie Staton on the Impact and Successes of the Black Opry

(Editor’s Note: To kick off our Artist of the Month coverage for June, we asked legendary musician, songwriter, and co-founder of the Black Country Music Association, Frankie Staton, to discuss and explore the vital work of the Black Opry.

Scroll to find our Essential Black Opry Playlist below.)

Holly G wanted a safe place to not only go and hear ethnic country singers, but safe places for them to sing

I first met Holly G at the premiere of the CMT Giants: Charley Pride program. Shocked that I was invited to anything in Nashville, I was pleasantly surprised to see several people of color there. It was a great tribute to the life of one of country music’s finest voices. I was there with my two friends, country singers Valierie Ellis [Hawkins] and Joe West. When it was over, we were all introducing ourselves to each other. When I said, “my name is Frankie Staton,” people were saying how happy they were to meet me, and for a moment, I couldn’t understand why. If there was anyone that felt like a failure to acquire results in Nashville, it was me.

When I co-founded the Black Country Music Association in the mid-’90s I couldn’t get anyone signed. Not to a publishing contract or a developmental deal. There were a couple artists that generated some interest, but it just all fizzled out. I am proud of the effort we put in, but wish I could’ve done more. We weren’t able to get anyone on the Grand Ole Opry. Our successes were limited to performances on BCMA showcases, or if we were hired for an event. When you have a gigantic vision, and don’t have the results to match, it can be frustrating. It is wonderful to know, even in hindsight, we made some sort of impact.

I first met the collective Holly G founded, Black Opry, at the Outlaw House during AmericanaFest in 2021. It was so awesome, so therapeutic, so cool, so now. Finally! They are true songwriters, true singers and musicians with an undeniable love for what they do and a grand respect for each other. It is as if they understand that they were built for this moment.

I had a flashback to years ago when I wanted to go to Alabama’s June Jam in Fort Payne, AL. Alabama was a band that I could listen to all day. I loved their harmonies and was just nuts over the group. It would’ve probably been alright if I attended, but I didn’t ever go. Years later, I went to an Outlaw Concert at Bridgestone Arena here in downtown Nashville. The people around me thought I was nuts to want to go see Gretchen Wilson, Montgomery Gentry, Tanya Tucker, Big & Rich, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Shooter Jennings, Jesse Colter, and on and on and on.

My friends couldn’t relate to my love for these artists, despite all of the ways each of them inspired me. Gretchen Wilson, I knew her story! Besides being very talented, and a brilliant singer, I had read about her never having lived in a house without wheels. I always thought that one of the most talented and underrated women in country music was Tanya. I once saw her at Billy Bob’s in Fort Worth, and she literally tore the place apart. What an entertainer! I have respect for her journey. I had never heard anything like Montgomery Gentry, and I loved their outlaw image. I had a tremendous respect for Jessi Colter, a real trooper, with so much experience under her belt.

Although I am African American, I was deeply influenced by country and bluegrass music. Early on it was Patsy Cline, Loretta Lynn, Dolly Parton, Tammy Wynette, and Brenda Lee, along with George Jones, Merle Haggard, Don Williams, Glen Campbell, and Willie Nelson who inspired me. I made the move to Nashville in 1981. To say I was “different” is an understatement. Nevertheless, I loved the music, wrote it, and performed all over town.

I learned, however, that there were boundaries on what I could and couldn’t do. For a long time, I wondered why this was considered “American music” when so many Americans could not sing it.

Finally, in 1997, I challenged a story that was in the New York Times about the dearth of diversity in country music. The things that the label heads said in the piece about my race made my blood boil. They said we couldn’t sing country music, that they couldn’t find credible Black country singers – while they told Black artists that they “didn’t know” what to do with them. People on Music Row would tell us to “go find Charley Pride.” 

So I challenged the story. I thought, “You finally have it in print, so why not challenge the story?” I wasn’t sure how to go about it, at that point I had nothing. No Black Country Music Association. No company to promote. No foot in the door. I did it literally with just a telephone. I went to the people that I played for and asked them to sponsor musicians. I went to Jack Daniels and asked them to back me, hired studio musicians to play a show, wrote out the charts, and went to Music Row and asked the publishing houses for songs when I heard voices that were “similar” to current country stars. 

I even tried to get songs that were on hold, for seemingly 20 artists, and brought them back to Black artists to sing. It was important that we had great singers, great musicians, and great songs. I worked the press, TV, radio, print media, and just pushed and pushed. We rehearsed at the Woodshed in East Nashville. We did media classes at my house. We practiced walking on stage, holding a mic, having confidence, talking to the press, and being positive. We put together an entire showcase, to be held at an iconic Nashville venue. 

There we were, raising our voices for something we truly believed in at the Bluebird Café. No one was signed. There were a couple artists that had had development deals – but that was it. I was a single mom raising a son and a daughter, and for the space in my life, they had to be priority. 

The Black Opry was born out of a conversation Holly started online among passionate country music fans. Holly wanted people of diverse ethnicities to be able to expound on their feelings about performing country, bluegrass, folk, and all the other idioms that we were shut out of due to race.

Black Opry entertainers are confident, but humble; moving up in this world, but still grateful. And, they complement each other beautifully. Each artist waits patiently to perform their material and receives applause with such graciousness. They are kind and supportive of each other. I have been moved by the music of Jett Holden, Joy Clark, Tyler Bryant, Nikki Morgan, Aaron Vance, Julie Williams, Roberta Lea, Kam Franklin, Leon Timbro, The Kentucky Gentlemen, Samantha Rise, Danielle Johnson, Grace Givertz and so many others. 

Without a doubt, I have witnessed Black artists on the precipice of a new sunrise created by us, for us, and welcoming to all. Holly has reached out to me on several occasions to perform with Black Opry, and I have extended the invite to Valierie Ellis and Joe West, a couple of country artists of color who were here before this new exciting community of singers came along. With over 200 acts, The Black Opry has proved that we are, were, and will always be here. Now the world can see for themselves these truly gifted artists. At the first anniversary of the Black Opry in 2022, I was just stunned by the beauty of seeing them all together, excited to perform to a completely packed house at Nashville’s City Winery. 

I noticed the women performing effortlessly for a huge crowd. Being that we weren’t even considered a part of this genre, this was a surreal moment for me. The memory of Linda Martell, who charted in the Top 25 on the Billboard charts, who had all the goods, the looks, the sound, and the desire to do it, and who still did not have a real career in country music, says it all. For Ruby Falls to perform at the New Faces show for the Country Radio Seminar, but not be able to tour, says it all. Or, to hear that Warner Brothers told Valierie Ellis they didn’t know what to do with a Black female country singer and that sometimes, “people hear with their eyes,” made this anniversary celebration night a full circle moment to me. To see independent artists producing their own material, not ruled by the auspices of this city and genre, is very satisfying for my soul. So many people have been blessed by the Black Opry.

I performed with the Black Opry at Exit/In in December of 2021, when we were all afforded the opportunity to meet and perform with Allison Russell, for whom there are no adequate words to describe. From seeing all the accolades and television appearances Allison has had, crossing my fingers for her Grammy nominations, and seeing her collaborate with artists – like Brandi Carlile, the musically proficient Milwaukee-born duo, Sistastrings, and the masterful, New Orleans-born guitar virtuoso, incredible vocalist, and songwriter, Joy Clark – has been a wonderful experience for me. I also just witnessed the premiere of Roberta Lea’s new video, “If I’m Too Much of a Woman” from Times Square in New York City. She was included in the 2023 class of CMT’s Next Women of Country. My introduction to all of these artists came through the Black Opry. 

Black Opry serves as a place for artists, musicians, and songwriters to find in others what they may lack, which is so rich. This is a warm place to be yourself and not be ostracized for loving a music that did not love you back, historically. In its infancy, Black Opry is just beginning to break ground. In a city where there was major marginalization and gaslighting, Black Opry just walked through doors without stumbling, forging into the future without any apologies for being in the room. They will only build from here, and I know for a fact that there are no limitations, just the next opportunities.

There are moments that I can’t help but tear up at the memory of those who are no longer in it. Those who sacrificed so much for this music, but were severely shortchanged: Jae Mason, a brilliant singer, songwriter and guitarist, wrote about “Little Cowboys and Cowgirls of Color” when he asked his mom why he didn’t “see Black cowboys on TV.” Scott Eversoll, who sang the wonderful Troy McConnell song, “What Color Am I?” And, Wheels, an all-Black country band from Lanett, Alabama, that toured extensively in the U.S. before losing their lead singer, Chris, to a massive heart attack. Iconic would be the only word to describe these guys. 

As a person who is blessed to witness both generations, I will always feel a sense of sadness for those who are no longer in it and a profound joy and excitement for those that are right here, right now. And I will always carry the spirit of those who tried with me.

I hope you have an opportunity to see a Black Opry concert. This is a historic, unforgettable, long-overdue celebration of some long-held trade secrets – finally here for the world to witness.


Photo Credit: Gabriel Barreto

LISTEN: Julie Williams, “Big Blue House”

Artist: Julie Williams
Hometown: Tampa, FL
Song: “Big Blue House”
Album: Julie Williams EP
Release Date: May 12, 2023 (single); June 2, 2023 (EP)

In Their Words: “‘Big Blue House’ is a song about racism and violence through the eyes of a six-year-old girl, who is told by her father that she can’t play outside with the other kids, but she doesn’t know why. Originally written as a poem, the story came to me after reading the news of Keyon Harrold Jr., a teenager who was assaulted by a white woman who thought that he stole her cell phone. It made me think of the conversations that parents of color have to have with their children — that you might be a child, but some people in the world will see you as a threat. I knew that this story was special and that I had to bring it to life with my friend and one of my songwriting inspirations, Brittney Spencer. I brought her the poem written on scraps of white notebook paper and together we created the song that you can hear now.

“What really brought the magic was working with Nicole Neely — an amazing violinist and composer who arranged the strings and brought together an all-female lineup of players, including Monique and Chauntee Ross of the SistaStrings and Josée Weigland-Klein, to record the strings. Together with Gabriel and Gideon Klein’s production and Rodlin Pierre’s mixing magic, the song and stories came to life.

“I originally planned to release ‘Big Blue House’ with the rest of my EP that comes out on June 2, but after the recent Covenant Shooting, the expulsion of the Tennessee Three, and the continued news of gun violence and political inaction, I felt called to release the song and its message into this world. I wrote this song over two years ago, and it is heartbreakingly still relevant.”


Photo credit: Mackenzie Ryan

The Show On The Road – Cleve Francis

This week, my talk with self-described folk-country scientist and songwriter Cleve Francis, whose winding fifty year story in music is nearly unparalleled. Few African American artists had their work heard in the folk boom of the early 1960s, and while Francis studied to become a heart specialist after leaving the small hamlet of Jennings, Louisiana, the honey-voiced gems he laid down with his guitar in the gorgeous compilation Beyond the Willow Tree are finding devoted new audiences — this podcaster included.

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After diving into that encyclopedic collection which showcases his songs from 1968-1970, you can see that Francis’s tastes were vast. Sparsely recorded with his beautifully airy yet powerful voice leading the way, he tributes everything from Martin Luther King Jr. and the civil rights movement to his loving interpretations of Joni Mitchell, Gordon Lightfoot, The Beatles and Bob Dylan (his fiery take on “With God On Our Side” is a must-listen). And yet, if you look deeper into his story, you’ll notice that Francis’s real love was for old school country music.

In Nashville, the list of major-label Black stars not named Charley Pride was short — and still is. But in the 1990s, while already a successful cardiologist, Francis took leave of his office in Virginia and jumped on a tour bus to promote his catchy CMT-approved records Tourist in Paradise and Walkin’. Always the trailblazer, he also founded the Black Country Music Association to help find opportunities for up-and-coming artists who were left out of the Music City limelight.

While he did return to his patients and left Nashville to its devices in the late 1990s, Francis and his work creating what he likes to call “soul-folk” are thankfully being discovered anew via the wizardry of the internet. I was so personally moved by the open-hearted power of his collection Beyond the Willow Tree that I had to find out more, and I’m so glad I did.


Photo Credit: Michael S. Williamson

Basic Folk – Ondara

When Ondara was a little boy growing up in Nairobi, Kenya, music was both everywhere and just out of reach. He walked around the market listening to vendors playing music from stereos, stopping to listen when he heard something that caught his attention. His family couldn’t afford musical instruments, and the household radio was constantly in demand so he would wait until everyone was asleep so that he could listen to music by himself. He began writing poems, and eventually a cappella songs. He figured that if Bob Dylan could create a legacy setting insightful poems to music, so could he.

 

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In 2013, Ondara won the green card lottery and moved to Minneapolis, because a) he had a family member there, and b) his hero Bob Dylan came from there. Ondara quickly discovered that Minnesota was a little different than he had dreamed. He was working temp jobs to buy his first guitar, writing dozens of songs that would eventually become his debut album, Tales of America, and getting his foot in the door in the Minneapolis open mic scene. But he found that it was difficult to put a band together, that the life of a songwriter was lonely, and that, in America, the color of his skin came with a whole set of expectations about how he should behave (and even about what kind of music he should create).

Ondara has worked to understand these expectations without bowing to them. He shared during our conversation that being Black in America means joining a tradition of art and resistance, and that helping The Cause matters to him. And his ability to contribute to the cause has grown exponentially, since Ondara hit the road in support of his hit debut album, and opening for artists like Neil Young, Lindsey Buckingham, and the Lumineers.

Since then, Ondara has looked outward for subject matter, releasing a pandemic-inspired album in 2020 based on his friends’ stories of quarantine dating and struggling to pay the rent. He has also undertaken a significant spiritual journey as he struggles to reconcile fame and the demands of capitalism with his desire to become a grounded, useful, wise, grown-up adult. His solution, for now, comes in the form of the Spanish Villager, the hyper-performative character at the center of his new album.


Editor’s Note: Basic Folk is currently running their annual fall fundraiser! Visit basicfolk.com/donate for a message from hosts Cindy Howes and Lizzie No, and to support this listener-funded podcast.

Photo Credit: Nate Ryan

Basic Folk – Adia Victoria

For Adia Victoria, the blues are not just a genre of music or a set of formal elements. She lives the blues. In her life and work the blues are a mode of creating, a river-tradition into which she steps with each performance, and a way back into self-acceptance. Adia has traveled the world and infused her unique songwriting with Paris and New York as much as with her home state of Tennessee.

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Adia has released three studio albums, working with producers like T Bone Burnett and The National’s Aaron Dessner. In her climb to indie stardom she has remained laser focused on interpreting the blues tradition for contemporary audiences.

My conversation with Adia came shortly after we finished a whirlwind North American tour this spring, and it felt like we were back in the tour van just shooting the shit. Transparent and hilarious, Adia challenged me to go as deep in conversation as she does in her songs.


Photo Credit: Huy Nguyen