When Ohana Music founder Louis Wu says, “Ohana means family,” it’s not hyperbole; it’s the tenet upon which the company was built.
“On an unspoken level it drives everything, including staff, dealer interactions, customers, and products,” says Chris Wu, who oversees Ohana’s special operations and product marketing.
The Ohana story, which is also Louis Wu’s story, is an inspiring journey of determination and accomplished goals. Wu grew up in Hong Kong and relocated to the U.S. after high school to study engineering. In 2006, after twenty years in his chosen field, he decided on a career change, primarily to spend more time with his wife and two young children. That priority – family – became and remains the basis of Ohana.
Chris Wu was 10 years old when his father launched Ohana. He spent his teen summers alongside his father “doing a little work here and there.” In 2018, after college and a career in accounting, he says, “Things fell into place where it made sense to come onboard full-time.”
From Louis Wu’s Long Beach, California garage to a 6000-square-foot warehouse, Ohana’s slow and steady growth has taken them from a small business serving one customer at a time to leaders in their field with both their expansive product line and custom shop.
“I have to give full credit to Louis as the visionary leader of the company since day one,” says Wu. “He knows how a company should and needs to be run. Myself and all the staff are here to support that vision, and that really drives the growth. As a team, we’re improving internally every day, and that has been life-changing. It’s wonderful seeing our employees grow in what they do and in their passion for their jobs.”
Ohana’s international reach stems from the dedication of a surprisingly small workforce. “We’ve never had more than ten people at one time,” says Wu. “It is a small company, but the size helps our operation run smoothly and efficiently.”
Ohana ukuleles are available across a spectrum of styles and price points, from beginner models to pro series. Built overseas, the instruments are individually inspected in Long Beach to ensure flawless playability. “At the core, again, we view our customers as family, and we don’t want family to end up with subpar instruments,” says Wu. “Every instrument is given a full inspection and proper setup before it goes to our worldwide dealers. This does affect our output, our capacity, per day, week, month, or year, but that is the way it should be done. We’ve always been proud to do things that way.
“When you receive your Ohana ukulele, you can rest assured that you can take it out of the box and start playing. At the end of the day, being able to connect people to their instruments and spread the joy of music – it feels like introducing another family member to something we love, something we know they will love, and that will work for them.
“As a disclaimer, I will say that there are manufacturers who offer things that we do not, for example, plastic or carbon fiber instruments. Those materials can take a beating on long journeys or camping trips, if you need an instrument to meet those needs. Those ukuleles have their place, but we stay away from making them.
“We focus on sound, acoustics, wood choice, and the quality of the instrument you’re getting right off the bat. Between our 150 to 200 different models, there’s something for everyone. When you buy an Ohana ukulele, you know there is love behind it. Our team has set it up with you, our family, in mind. We want you to have a good instrument, plain and simple, for the right price and the right value. With our custom shop we’ve expanded that range while still keeping the value, the quality setup. We’re just covering a larger market.”
Ohana Music founder Louis Wu peruses the Ohana showroom.
All Ohana tonewoods are sustainably sourced. Most popular, says Wu, are redwood variations from the Pacific Northwest, which feature prominently in limited-edition models. They also source Hawaiian Acacia Koa, Canadian Engelmann spruce, and mahogany, cedar, and other wood sets from local harvesting companies. “We take our time to go through which sets look and sound the best, but are also in compliance with CITES,” he says. “Anything not on that list, we won’t touch.”
Ohana Ukuleles will celebrate their twentieth anniversary in 2026. The lead-up to that milestone began unofficially this year at the 2025 NAMM Show with the introduction of their Custom Shop electric tenor and baritone ukuleles.
“Louis and our master luthier, Brad Kahabka, go all-out when it comes to planning and executing things that come from the custom shop,” says Wu. “After building acoustic instruments and getting the shop going, it was a question of ‘What’s next?’ We made simple custom instruments, more elaborate custom instruments, and we even built one with wood from The Tree. We had explored the whole range of acoustic instruments and electric was the natural progression. We were excited to enter the market with electric instruments this year. That’s really been our focus for 2025.”
This month, Ohana debuts their Custom Electric Bass, also built by Brad Kahabka. The new instrument, which the company describes as “a counterpart” to their OBU-22 short-scale acoustic-electric bass, features a solid mahogany body, maple top, custom pickups, cutaway design, and 28-inch scale.
The brand new Ohana Custom Shop Electric Bass, which launched this month.
“We’re super-excited to bring the first 28-inch-scale bass to market,” says Wu. “There are short-scale basses out there, but after trying different scales, Brad and Louis wanted something portable that we could make here in the shop. We wanted to come to market with this middle ground that still gives you the proper electric bass sound, but is more affordable and still does a lot.”
NAMM 2026 will mark the official kickoff of Ohana’s 20-year celebration, with other events and activities planned for the coming months. “We’ve been thinking about how we want to expand the family brand, ways we can look at to differentiate ourselves,” says Wu. “We’ve been successful in trying that out with our custom electric instruments, which can be additionally customized with different finishes, tuners, and other features. I think the future is in offering options to buyers and customers. We’re looking forward to exploring that more and offering some exciting things for our 20th anniversary.”
Once a wildly popular, then somewhat more niche, instrument – and, to some generations, an accouterment for tiptoeing through tulips – only to regain and increase its “cool factor” during the 2000s, the ukulele continues riding the crest of its popularity. (What could punch the uke’s “hip card” more than Taylor Swift…?)
“They call this the ‘third resurgence,’ this explosion of attention and rise in the number of ukulele players,” says Wu. “The pattern of history is that, in the last century, there were a couple of other rises and falls in popularity and maybe that’s the natural lifecycle of any instrument.
“What really pushed it along this time was the import side – specifically, affordable instruments made overseas, usually in China, but now also in Vietnam and Indonesia. You can pick up a ukulele for anywhere from under a hundred dollars to a few hundred. Making the instrument accessible that way, people took a new interest in ukuleles and stuck with them. There are also companies with longer histories that kept the torch going, and they, too, are part of this resurgence. Ohana began in 2006 and we’re proud to be a part of it. “It’s been a community effort to get the instrument back on its feet and it’s staying popular. Music is somewhat recession-proof, at least on the stringed instrument side. Throughout COVID, also, people needed music and the ukulele community was able to provide that.”
Ohana keeps eyes and ears on the changing wants and needs of their growing family of customers. “The stereotype of a ukulele player was someone maybe a little older, or retired, or a person with disposable income and the time to play and collect different instruments,” says Wu. “Now, however, we have a younger demographic that is eager to get out there and explore. They see ukuleles all over TikTok, and that’s something we can’t ignore.
“We see patterns, we get feedback from our dealers and customers, and we also see that people of all ages like the baritone ukuleles, the larger instruments. Or they’re developing tastes for certain features: beveled edges, slotted headstocks, armrests, cutaways, different pickups. The options and combinations are endless.
“All of this plays a factor in our innovation, coming up with new combinations and new instruments that people are after. Going back to the baritone, for example, what used to be a one percent demand for that size instrument is now ten percent or more. That number doesn’t sound large on its own, but it is a significant jump. We keep a pulse on what’s out there, what people like or dislike, and we innovate based on that.
One of Chris Wu’s personal and professional goals is to further expand upon the relationship between bluegrass and ukuleles. “I’ve learned a lot from our bluegrass players, including local players,” he says. “I don’t have a background in bluegrass, but I’ve learned from watching them play bluegrass on ukuleles how much can be created musically from that and in combination with other instruments as well.
“One of our new team members, who helps us with social media, played in a bluegrass band. Watching them go at it was just amazing, and I would really love to explore more of that. Ohana makes banjoleles, and we tried our hands once at a resonator ukulele. It might be time to bring that back. Who knows? As a company, I think bluegrass is something we could tap into.”
Integral to Ohana’s legacy and footprint as they enter their third decade is their philanthropic work and community involvement, including ongoing assistance with music programs following the Los Angeles wildfires of 2025.
“As often as we’re able, we love supporting the ukulele community far and wide,” says Wu. “It’s not such a big world, once you’re in it, and it is closely knit. Brands, manufacturers, artists – everyone knows each other, and it becomes even closer when organizations need our support. We do that whenever we can. It’s one of the crucial foundational things that Louis has always worked for with Ohana.
“A lot of times it’s local – schools and, lately, libraries that have started ukulele programs or clubs. We’ve partnered multiple times with the Los Angeles Public Library System as individual libraries have started programs. We provide support and ukuleles.
“A couple of years ago, after the unfortunate wildfires in Maui, one of our music store dealers on the island contacted us about helping rebuild school music programs. We shipped two large pallets of ukuleles to them. We’ve also partnered with Four Strings At A Time, a ukulele nonprofit in Hawaii, to help their local schools. On the continental U.S. side, there’s Ukulele Kids Club, which provides music therapy to children and also instruments to children in hospitals.
“As small as the ukulele community can feel sometimes, especially compared to the guitar community, there are still endless ways that people need support. It’s a blessing and an honor to be able to provide that to them.”
As Ohana moves into the fourth quarter of 2025, prepares for holiday sales, looks ahead to NAMM 2026, and plans its upcoming anniversary, Wu reflects on the year-to-date as “interesting, especially with the tariffs. Everyone has responded a little bit differently, but everyone has also been hanging in there, as much as I can speak for our music stores, our retailers, and the players,” he says.
“We’re looking forward to next year for new things, exciting things. It’s been interesting, but we’ve been getting through it and that’s all we can ask for.”
Ohana Vintage Line, 39 Series.
All images courtesy of Ohana Music. Lead image: Ohana O’Nina and Pineapple models lounge on the beach.
We’re back with another excellent edition of our weekly round-up of new music, fresh videos, and sneak previews of tracks to yet to come.
Bluegrass power couple Benson – Wayne Benson and Kristin Scott Benson – call on Zack Arnold of Rhonda Vincent & the Rage for their new single, “Bully of the Town,” which drops today. You may recognize the track, which is usually performed as an instrumental, but its unique chord progression shines with Arnold’s vocal as the somewhat unexpected cherry on top. Also in a bluegrass space – bluegrass saxophone, of course – Eddie Barbash continues his mini-series with us of classic bluegrass and old-time fiddle tunes rendered superlatively, as only he could, on sax. This time, we’re sharing his new performance video of “Tennessee Mountain Fox Chase,” shot at Larkspur Conservation in Westmoreland, Tennessee. We can’t get enough solo saxophone fiddle tunes!
From the bottom of the globe, progressive New Zealand string band You, Me, Everybody returns to the pages of BGS with a new music video. “The Rest of Us” is a contemplative, introspective song set to sparkling newgrass that’s about leadership, abandonment, and rising above – if you can. From country, our friend Brit Taylor also has debuted a new music video this week for “All For Sale,” her most recent single that released just last month. The new video, which only features a short cameo by Taylor, a new momma, is a fun-fueled yard sale spurred by heartbreak and readiness for a blank, clean slate.
To round out our collection this week, legendary blues master Robert Finley is celebrating a brand new album via Easy Eye Sound today, so of course we’re highlighting a track from Hallelujah! Don’t Let the Devil Fool Ya to mark the special day. “Can’t Take My Joy” is an infectious song with a perennial message that Finley holds at the core of his values system – you really can’t steal his joy. And, with music like this in our weekly round-up, you won’t be taking our joy, either!
It’s all right here on BGS and, just like every week before this one, You Gotta Hear This.
Eddie Barbash, “Tennessee Mountain Fox Chase”
Artist:Eddie Barbash Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee Song: “Tennessee Mountain Fox Chase” Album:Larkspur Release Date: November 28, 2025 (The album will be released one song at a time with the last track coming out Nov. 28.)
In Their Words: “This song was recorded during a spring sun shower on the porch swing at Larkspur Conservation’s cabin headquarters. A barn swallow was nesting in the rafters just over my head and I was inspired by all of the bird songs around me to improvise this introduction.
“I learned the tune late one night from Ric Robertson after a party/concert in his Washington Heights apartment in NYC. I believe he learned it from Nate Leath and my version is also inspired by his recording. I decided to slow it down a bit and give it a lazier, swingier feel that just feels so good to play on the saxophone.” – Eddie Barbash
Artist:Benson Hometown: Boiling Springs, South Carolina Song: “Bully of the Town” Release Date: October 10, 2025 Label: Mountain Home Music Company
In Their Words: “I’ve always loved to play this song and didn’t even know it had lyrics for years. The chord progression is just different enough to make it work either way.” – Wayne Benson
“‘Bully of the Town’ is a good example of a song that wasn’t originally a part of the bluegrass genre, but is versatile enough that you can play it many different ways and it sounds like it belonged there all along. Wayne and I are pickers first and this arrangement is really built around being able to play around this fun chord progression, but the vocals are the icing on the cake, because prior to this cut, people typically played it as an instrumental. A lot of people don’t even know it has words, so adding vocals differentiates it and we got a young gun to sing it! Zack Arnold, from Rhonda Vincent & the Rage, did such a great job. He delivers it with a lot of energy, power, and a spirit that accompanies youthful musicianship. He really added excitement to an already-grooving track.” – Kristin Scott Benson
Track Credits: Wayne Benson – Mandolin Kristin Scott Benson – Banjo Cody Kilby – Acoustic guitar Kevin McKinnon – Bass Zack Arnold – Lead Vocal
Robert Finley, “Can’t Take My Joy”
Artist:Robert Finley Hometown: Bernice, Louisiana Song: “Can’t Take My Joy” Album:Hallelujah! Don’t Let the Devil Fool Ya Release Date: October 10, 2025 Label: Easy Eye Sound
In Their Words: “There’s an old saying that I used to hear folks say, ‘There’s joy in the world, can’t take it away.’ Joy is something that can’t be measured by man and can’t be controlled by man. That’s why I say, ‘You can’t take my joy.’ You can take everything else, but you can’t take that. You can take my freedom and I can still be happy. Though there are problems, there is still a way to look beyond the faults and accept the good things in life. Joy is something that no man has the power to give and no man has the power to take away.” – Robert Finley
Brit Taylor, “All For Sale”
Artist:Brit Taylor Hometown: Hindman, Kentucky Song: “All For Sale” Release Date: September 5, 2025 (song); October 9, 2025 (video) Label: RidgeTone Records/Thirty Tigers
In Their Words: “We wrote this song like a script. There’s so much imagery in the song that it just seemed natural for the video to follow the lyrics. I decided only to make a quick cameo in the video and let my friends be the stars of the show! While it seems counter-intuitive to what the rest of the industry is currently doing, it felt right to me. After all, the song isn’t about me, it’s about a story that wants to be told. And, honestly, my friends should probably move to Hollywood, because they really nailed their parts!” – Brit Taylor
Video Credits: Robert Chavers – Producer, director, cinematographer Steve Voss – Director Solar Cabin – Production company
You, Me, Everybody, “The Rest Of Us”
Artist:You, Me, Everybody Hometown: Ngaruawahia, New Zealand Song: “The Rest of Us” Release Date: October 10, 2025 Label: Southern Sky Records
In Their Words: “I woke up with the melody and the lyric in the chorus, ‘If you’re the one who’s going to give up, what are the rest of us doing here tonight?’ And as much as the melody kept hooking me in, it took a while to find an angle for a song that could only really be about leadership. Even though it’s from the perspective of the people who are left when a leader abandons them, I was writing this with an awareness of how I felt I was letting people down at a time when I wasn’t following through on a commitment I had made. That’s why it’s less about blame and more about the heartbreak of watching someone lose faith in something they’d once worked so hard for.” – Kim Bonnington
Video Credits: Produced and edited by Kim Bonnington. Filmed by Ethan Bryant.
Photo Credit: Brit Taylor by Sammy Hearn; Benson by Sandlin Gaither.
A fantastic new off-Broadway play, titled The Porch on Windy Hill: A New Play with Old Music, has been performed across the U.S. in Vermont, Pennsylvania, and Illinois, before landing at Urban Stages on West 30th Street in New York City where it’s currently playing until October 12, 2025. Written by Sherry Stregack Lutken, Lisa Helmi Johanson, Morgan Morse, and David M. Lutken, and directed by Sherry Lutken, The Porch on Windy Hill was born during the pandemic, when Sherry Lutken found herself having extensive conversations with one of her closest childhood friends, one who happens to be biracial, about their personal perspective and experiences. Sherry Lutken’s formal idea coalesced around April 2021 and the first full performance of “Porch” took place that September in Ivoryton, Connecticut.
The show centers on Mira, a biracial Korean-American classical violinist, and her boyfriend Beckett, a Ph.D. student passionate about the history and connections of folk music in America, as the couple leave their isolated apartment in Brooklyn and head for the lively pickin’ parties and folk festivals in Atlanta, Georgia. When their navigations and a fussy van engine take them on a detour into the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina, a pit stop leads to a run in with Mira’s estranged white grandfather Edgar, and Mira and Beck both find more than they bargained for. The encounter goes on to change the three characters in incredibly profound ways.
The play’s music serves as a beautiful and powerful reflection of the many emotions that run high throughout it, as well as a story-rich catalyst that fills in the blanks of who these people are, what they know and don’t know about one another, and, of course, why Mira and her grandfather grew apart after being so close during her childhood.
The boldness of The Porch on Windy Hill comes from its many contrasts and complements. The story unfolds entirely on the front porch of Edgar’s North Carolina home, which sits in the shadow of an unseen Mount Mitchell. David Lutken, Morgan Morse, and Tora Nogami Alexander – who play Edgar, Beckett, and Mira respectively – move in, about, and out of the setting in very natural ways. A tension rises between Mira and Edgar for most of the first half and the confined space only heightens the impact of the actors’ moods on the audience. The discomfort, though, isn’t just social anxiety. The core narrative mysteries and tensions of “Porch” are tied to its real world relatability around the ways different folks view race, politics, and in this story especially, folk music.
The first half of the play is also music-heavy, with an abundance of different folk tunes showcasing Lutken, Morgan, and Alexander’s skills on a potpourri of instruments from banjo to guitar to violin to the Chinese erhu, to dulcimer – an instrument that’s key to the story and one special aspect of the cross-generational bond between Mira, her mother, and Edgar. Over the course of the show, Edgar’s home becomes part pickin’ stage and part time capsule for Mira and Edgar to rekindle their long lost connection. This isn’t without its thorny moments, which peak at the revelation that Mira and Edgar’s estrangement comes from trauma she experienced as a child when her cousin cruelly called her a racial slur, only for her grandfather to turn a blind eye to the incident. The subsequent chasm that formed left Mira and Edgar unsure of how to even begin addressing their discomfort, before their musical connection – and a bit of moonshine – helped to clear the air and start to mend decades-old wounds.
The Porch on Windy Hill isn’t about safe spaces. It isn’t about breaking into folk song to comedically cut the tension, and it isn’t about being a modern PSA for Asian-Americans. But what it does do is give its audiences a reminder of what it means to share space with people who don’t hold a carbon copy of one’s own views. It also gives permission to express anger, hurt, and confusion over the unique pain that comes with discrimination and ignorance of others’ lived experiences.
These characters think, react, question, demand, and forgive in wholly believable fashion. The Porch on Windy Hill gets and keeps you invested. From the first time Mira, Beck, and Edgar play “Little Old Log Cabin in the Lane” together to the moment Mira walks off saying, “Kamsahamnida” – “thank you” in Korean – to Edgar, before he goes inside to finally call Mira’s parents. It’s everything a stellar musical is: thought provoking, entertaining, emotionally stirring, and something that imparts a feeling of growth. The depth of personal stories that hold the “Porch” together make this play ideal for partnering with the legacy-laden nature of folk music.
David Lutken, Sherry Lutken, Morgan Morse, and Tora Nogami Alexander jumped on a group call and spoke with BGS about the multi-layered nuance behind The Porch on Windy Hill and how all the aspects of the play, from the conflicts to the specificity of the music utilized – even the story behind one made up fiddle convention! – had meaning and purpose to enhance the impact of the characters and the story.
What drove the decision to set Porch on the Windy Hill in the mountains of North Carolina, as opposed to another part of Appalachia or even a completely different part of the U.S.?
David M. Lutken: [Porch on The Windy Hill] could be set in many different parts of the United States, but [choosing North Carolina] had to do with several things. The music that I have been most familiar with all my life kind of emanates from a little bit of bottleneck down in the southeastern United States. And also it had to do with the specific instrument – the dulcimer – being something that comes from the Appalachian region, even though its earlier ancestors come from different places as well.
But it had to do with that, with instrumentation, the draw of the entire Appalachian region of the United States, and the metaphor in the show of Mount Mitchell and the highest point in all of the Appalachian region of the United States and all of those things stated there. I have to say, the fact that North Carolina is a decidedly “purple” place these days also has to do with it, particularly Western North Carolina, where you have places like Asheville that are very, very liberal surrounded by counties that are very conservative, which happens in many other parts of the United States. But all of those things together I would say, pointed me [toward choosing North Carolina as the play’s setting.]
Morgan Morse: I’ll add one last very silly reason that influenced our decision, which is just geography. We have this couple, which is traveling from the East Coast, and they’re on their way to Atlanta, [Georgia], and that’s their next goal. So in general, we were also looking to find a location that sat pretty nicely between those two places.
(L to R) Morgan Morse, Tora Nogami Alexander, and David M. Lutken perform ‘The Porch on Windy Hill.’ Photo by Ben Hider.
When it came to determining how the music of the show would not only link the characters and the scenes together but also keep them together, how did you discern the balance of realism, optimism, idealism, and cynicism in the pickin’ performance scenes – particularly the early ones when Mira hesitates to participate – especially given how uncertain and outright tense the characters’ interactions become over the course of the play?
Tora Nogami Alexander: That is the most difficult part of the play and that is the thing that we focused on the most, with me being sort of the new addition to this version of this play. We practiced a lot of this music before we really dug into how the performance would translate. And so, as we were in the real meat of the rehearsals, [director] Sherry [Lutken] was really, really helpful in crafting the balance of the emotional baggage that Mira has and that everybody has within the play.
For me, what’s awesome about doing this play and what’s really fun for me, is that I do think I discover something new every time I do it. Every night, I really listen to my partners and we all listen to each other. It might change every day – how certain things hit us, how we process things. The bones are there but it’s been really interesting to try and tightrope that every night because it is a little bit different every single night, which is exciting and cool. Working with Sherry, she was so helpful in translating it because she’s watching the play and so she’s able to give us tools to help tell a story in a way that people can understand.
MM: Because there are so many emotions sitting under the surface in the first act, especially the first half of the first act, you want to strike a balance of making sure that it’s coming through without feeling like you’re overselling everything that’s happening underneath. So, throughout the results of that – Tora said “tightrope,” that was a word that we used a lot during rehearsals – especially for the character of Mira, she is figuring out what she wants from this situation and she’s figuring out how comfortable she is, how much she wants to engage. It’s something that Tora [does] so beautifully and it’s so fun to watch every night to see exactly how [the emotions] are hitting her and how she translates that to the way she plays [her violin].
DML: Well, the interesting part to me has been Tora’s ability to convey things musically. We set out to make a musical play where the music is a part of the dialogue and the ability to express vulnerability and frustration and a spectrum of emotions without opening your mouth, just playing violin, or even the erhu, or the other things that we all play. But particularly for Miss Alexander, I think that’s a unique talent of hers, and a unique thing to this show, particularly the first half of the first act. That’s a big part of what is happening with the music; it’s [songs] that certainly [Morse and Alexander] are familiar with, and they’re having to play them in a really weird situation.
You all mention in another interview that you wanted music that was “intrinsic rather than performative.” That the songs “aren’t decorative.” That said, the folk songs selected for Porch On The Windy Hill seem like they aren’t exclusive in their ability to convey or heighten the specific emotions desired in a scene. As such, what is it about the songs in the play that make each of them essential in a way other folk songs are not?
MM: On one hand, I can tell you all the reasons why these particular songs ended up there. And I do think that they work very well and they serve very specific purposes. At the same time, you’re kind of right that there are a billion other folk songs that could also fit into those slots. To me, that’s actually the amazing thing: American folk songs cover so many themes and some of them are universal themes and that’s what was so cool about putting these songs into the show.
There’s consideration like, “We need a fast song here.” “We need a slow song here.” “We need a song with this particular mood.” “Okay, we want to break up the flow of things by having an instrumental, what instrumental can we have?” So there’s those kinds of nuts and bolts and there’s the little ways in which, even though these songs were not written for the show, they still managed to reference and inform the action within their lyrics as well, because we’re singing about these universal things like love and loss and family and travel and childhood.
The question is, “What’s going to move these characters in this moment?” Whether that’s moving them emotionally or moving them forward story-wise. And sometimes it’s something like the history or the context of this song that can lead to a really interesting conversation. There’s a couple moments like that in the show, where the history of the song [being played] then becomes a catalyst for conversation between the characters and that leads to explorations of the themes of the show in that discussion because they’re all intertwined: the music, the country, and all those various things.
At a certain point, Beck abruptly recalls from where he recognized Edgar’s name. It was on a specific live recording of the 1972 Charlestown Fiddlers’ Convention, where Edgar is credited as performing with the likes of Roscoe Holcomb, Ola Belle Reed, Lily Mae Ledford. What was the inspiration behind this fictional recording and why select Holcomb, Reed, and Ledford as the artists meant to be Edgar’s connection to the real world?
DLM: I had met Bascom Lamar Lunsford on a couple of occasions when I was a boy and went to the Asheville Folk Festival regularly in the late 1960s. The others, Roscoe Holcomb and Ola Belle Reed, I will confess they had partly to do with Edgar’s politics. I was trying to keep Edgar a bit ambiguous in his set-in-his-ways old guy [personality] and make him a little bit more open-minded.
The particular selections we chose for the fictional Charlestown Fiddler’s Convention of 1972 were to try to make something that sounded real and give it a little bit of a historical novel perspective, and also to raise Edgar’s banjo playing – elevate it greater than mine could ever be – and to make it so that he would have been in on something like that if it indeed had existed. And with West Virginia being a little bit different from Virginia in its history, and also the history of music there, we just tried to pile on the old-time music references without skewing too much in one direction or the other. In terms of picking for the Bill Monroe Bean Blossom Festival or the Newport Folk Festival, if you know what I mean. So it was really just to put all of that together in a little bit of a historical novel sense and also to paint things with a little bit of an open minded brush.
Over the course of scene five to scene seven, the show moves from the American folk song, “Mole in the Ground” to the Korean children’s mountain rabbit folk song, “Santokki (산토끼),” and finally the murder ballad “Pretty Polly,” which brings the unique sound of the Chinese erhu from the former into the latter and prompts a conversation about musical traditionalism – which instruments “fit” in a pickin’ party and which don’t.
What are your thoughts on Edgar’s view on the sounds that belong at a pickin’ party or jam? Furthermore, what do each of you think of as the central quality that makes something “folk” music and, in what way do you think people who may share Edgar’s view might be persuaded to consider a wider scope of sonic acceptance?
DLM: Well, I wish you had been at our last post-show hootenanny, Morgan, Tora, Hubby Jenkins of the Carolina Chocolate Drops, and a couple other folks were there and we all did a version of [Chappell Roan’s] “Pink Pony Club.”
It’s instrumentation, it’s sonic qualities of what’s going on, and it’s also the people who are doing it that are all part of how music becomes what it is. I personally am all for the erhu and the tuba and the bagpipes at a hootenanny all playing “Pink Pony Club,” because, it’s as Louis Armstrong said, “All music is folk music. I don’t see no horses listening to it.”
MM: I’m very much in the same boat. And it’s a very, for lack of a better term, fiddly question because it’s another one of these moments where it’s like, “Okay, [Edgar’s] got an open-minded streak about him but he still has limitations, you know?” Like, “Don’t bring an electric guitar, don’t play stuff out of your computer.” So there’s that technological line, which I think you could make an interesting argument for in this day and age, that this technological line maybe shouldn’t exist as much as it does.
You can make the argument that the kind of musicians who could really be considered to be making folk music at this point, and who definitely share a lot in common with the evolution of American folk music, are those who write hip-hop and rap. It’s the same kind of communal development where all of these different people are getting together for essentially, jams, where they’re taking things that they know and they’re remixing them, they’re learning from each other, and advancing with each other. So, you know, I’d be curious to have somebody come in with a little turntable to a hootenanny one time – that could be fun!
TNA: Folk music has to do with people and folk music exists everywhere, not just here. So yes, you know, mixing it up doesn’t seem too crazy to me, since organically it’s what would happen as our world gets more globalized.
Tora Nogami Alexander and Morgan Morse perform an intimate moment during ‘The Porch on Windy Hill.’ Photo by Ben Hider.
When Edgar, Beck, and Mira all exchange heated words with each other and Mira eventually picks up her mother’s dulcimer to play “My Horses Ain’t Hungry,” she’s obviously coming down from a tense and vulnerable place. What combination of emotions is Mira leaning into when she turns to the dulcimer and this song for a short reprieve and, as an actor, what kinds of thoughts and-or experiences are you calling upon to bring out the expression Mira is feeling at that moment?
TNA: In that moment, I think a lot about Elmira, [Mira’s grandmother]. I think a lot about her grandmother and the relationship of her grandmother and Mira’s mother. And I think about that relationship a lot during that song. For me, I think that moment is basically when all the shit blows up, it sucks, and Mira’s in this place where she’s finally alone and working through what happened. But [she’s] also realizing, through this song – one that was her mom’s favorite song and that maybe Mira learned from her grandma – that [it] wonderfully encapsulates the whole story. That [Mira’s] mom needed to get out of North Carolina and she chose the life she did for whatever reason. For me, that moment is sort of thinking about the mom and grandma relationship, how they got there. That also is why it leads to Mira calling her mom. She’s thinking through this song and then realizing that she needs to tell someone about it, someone who understands, and that would be her mom.
Sherry Lutken: I think for me, sort of what we talked about is that the dulcimer is the embodiment, in some ways, of Elmira – this sort of ghostly figure that hangs over the play and is there and ever present. They keep talking about her, they keep going back to her. That moment is very much about the matriarchy.
Mira’s surrounded by men the entire show and so the dulcimer and that line of women – of her mother, her grandmother, and the women before who are the reason for Mira’s birth – they mean that emotionally. That’s what I think Tora captures so beautifully and what that moment really embodies, that need to reach out to her mother even though she doesn’t really know what to say, even though she’s in a moment of flux, and even though she knows it’s going to be an upsetting thing. Still, she wants to talk. She’s not gonna let her mother evade the subject anymore. And she’s not gonna let Edgar avoid talking about it anymore – it’s time. That’s a wonderful moment of decisiveness. We get to see Mira’s decisiveness and this is a moment of the emotion really informing what she does next and the choices that she makes in the moment.
Given that the polarization of the U.S. has only become more aggravated since Porch On The Windy Hill was first performed in 2021, how much and in what ways would you say the impact of the story’s vision for self-reflection, forgiveness, and understanding has been affected?
DLM: When we were talking on opening night, Lisa [Helmi Johanson’s] husband was there with us at the party and he said it was ironic that what was written in 2021 has now become a period piece in several ways, because things have changed.
SL: Our relationship to the pandemic and to that time has changed. It’s amazing how quickly we forget that when we were in it, we thought we would never get out of it. We would never get to move forward because we were all stuck and it felt like forever. And now everything has changed. I think the thing for me is that, yes, the play rings differently now, but it’s still such a universal story. I think everyone can see themselves in each one of these characters in some small way, if they’re open to it. I think the play lends itself to self-reflection and also what we still want is the idea that there is hope and that there is a possibility of seeing each other’s humanity.
MM: I completely agree. I think it’s very easy right now to feel like there is no hope and that the wounds are just too deep. And whether it’s realistic or not, whether or not you think it’s idealistic or not, I think the thing that’s wonderful about the show is that it does open up a space where reconciliation is possible. Growth is possible. Forgiveness is possible. Owning up to your mistakes is possible, which is something that we’re missing a lot right now.
That and I think being really willing to admit that one is wrong and to take accountability for those things as well. I think stories like Porch on the Windy Hill do exist in the world and also I want more of them to exist in our world. So it’s a wish for how I think the world is in some ways and very much for how I wish the world could be.
Fall marks the beginning of “over the river and through the woods season,” whether your destination is grandma’s house, an off-season beach, a u-pick apple orchard or pumpkin patch, a spangled and harlequin forest, or an autumn music and arts festival. As you navigate the changing season and enjoy leaf-peeping, apple butter, hot cocoa, and hot dogs roasted over the fire, there’s one genre certain to accompany you through each and every picturesque context the “-ber” months give us – that’s Good Country.
Country is perfect for fall, whether you’re raising a beer, whiskey, or cider alone or among friends. From driving through tobacco country during curing season in September, to tailgating at the football stadium, to winding your way over the Smoky Mountains, to soaking in the last bit of summer sun, there’s a country song ready to soundtrack your falling back in love with cozy season.
Dripping with nostalgia, evocative text painting, a rich and deep connection to nature, and a reverence for community, folkways, and tradition, country music just may be synonymous with fall – and our playlist certainly helps make that case. We hope you enjoy listening and we wanna know: what country songs always get you in an autumnal mood? Did they make the list?
Photo Credit: Album cover, New Harvest… First Gathering, Dolly Parton.
Banjoist, songwriter, and podcaster Hilary Hawke has had a meandering journey with music, starting with guitar and clarinet before finding her musical home in the banjo and “becoming obsessed with it” during her late teens. Inspired by the storied folk tradition of upstate New York, Hawke now makes her home in New York City, where she leads her own bluegrass band as well as playing for various other groups as part of a close-knit roots music community.
New York City is uniquely ripe with gigs in theater and Hawke has found herself playing on Broadway for musicals such as Oklahoma! and Bright Star and composing music for puppet shows, among many other diverse projects. She has also started her own podcast, Banjo Chat, where she speaks about the banjo and banjo music with folks that love the instrument as much as she does.
BGS connected with Hilary Hawke to discuss the making of her new album, Lift Up This Old World, her time on Broadway, her new job teaching bluegrass at Columbia University, and more.
Can you tell me a bit about how you got started on the banjo?
Hilary Hawke: I actually went to school for classical music on clarinet and guitar, but I realized I didn’t know how I was going to get a job in music or what kind of job I wanted… composition? Teaching? Music therapy? I got to a point where I was like, “This all seems very serious and I’m not actually having much fun with music.”
During that time, I was writing songs on guitar and I just picked up a banjo for fun, to do something outside of school. I grew up in upstate New York and we have a lot of folk music and a lot of great banjo influences up here like Tony Trischka, Béla Fleck, Pete Seeger, the Gibson Brothers. And, honest to God, it was just the thing I started creating music on all the time. I started playing it nonstop. I ended up moving into New York City just on a whim. There were lots of opportunities to perform and I was able to take some lessons with Tony Trischka. New York is like– you just think you’re going to try it out and then suddenly 5 years have gone by.
Influences like the New Lost City Ramblers, Mike Seeger, Bruce Molsky, and Fred Cockerham seem to be threaded through your old-time and bluegrass style. Do you have a specific moment you can remember that sparked your love for these musicians?
I think that it’s always through popular culture that you get inspired to dive into the deeper stuff. Alison Krauss had a record called Too Late to Cry and I remember I heard the banjo on that and was like “What’s that sound?” It was Tony Trischka playing on her record. Similarly, I heard the banjo on the Dixie Chicks’ albums and wanted to know how it worked. Through those more popular bands, I got interested in banjo. And then I went to the festivals and I heard about the old guys. People would give me rides and we’d be listening to their CDs in the car. It was a lot of word of mouth like, “Oh you gotta hear Fred Cockerham and Tommy Jarrell!”
You started teaching banjo in Brooklyn at the Jalopy Theatre back in 2006, how has that community influenced your growth as a teacher and performer over the last 20 years?
I really cut my teeth at Jalopy. I was there for 10 years or so and I was able to develop a curriculum for teaching. I learned how to tear things apart and break them down, as far as playing the banjo. I gained the skills I’m now using to teach at Columbia University. I think Jalopy is a great breeding ground for performers, artists, and teachers to develop. It’s open-minded and exploratory.
Tell me about your new album, Lift Up This Old World. Where does it fall in the trajectory of your music-making?
This is the third album I’ve released under my own name. The first album I made was more of a singer-songwriter album, writing songs was really my entry point into folk music. Then I released an instrumental old-time album. This one combines songwriting and picking, but it is much more bluegrass-forward.
I noticed that you play both clawhammer and bluegrass style banjo on the record. How do you relate to the two different styles and where do you feel more at home?
I started with fingerpicking and got into bluegrass first, but I just wanted to do it all. I wanted to be involved with a wide range of music. Sometimes a person would ask, “Do you want to come play with my old-time band?” And I had to say no because I couldn’t play that style. I quickly realized I didn’t like to say no! I wanted to be able to do it. So I started learning clawhammer from some Ken Perlman videos and taught myself. Now I feel like they take up an equal amount of space in my life and I pick the style based on the music.
With my original material, I approach the banjo with the kind of song I want to write in my mind, so if I want to write a honky tonk song I might use fingerpicking, but if I want to do something with a shout chorus, for example, I’ll approach with clawhammer banjo. I listen to a lot of Tim O’Brien and I feel like he does that, too. Being able to play both styles, I have a little bit more of a toolkit for what I want to do.
Tell me about your approach to songwriting. There are a lot of songs about lost love and relationships on this album, some about relationships with people, but even your relationship with New York City; “NYC Waltz” is a track I particularly love. Is there a common theme that you see that brings these songs together?
I think this record is about overcoming struggles in confidence, specifically struggles in the music industry. I had the realization that you have to be your own cheerleader, you have to believe in yourself, and find that happiness in yourself. If you’re doing what you’re supposed to be doing, things are going to happen. Making this album was me having the belief that I could do this thing, overcoming fears and doubts in myself, striving, and coming out on the other side.
The way you recorded this album, it sounds live in a way that is rare for modern recordings. Can you tell me about how the record was made?
We did it live to save money. We started a year and half ago and I didn’t have the resources to do separate tracking, so we rehearsed it for a couple of days and then just went in and tried to nail it. We recorded pretty much the whole thing live with a full band in Williamsburg, one day with each of two fiddle players, Bobby Hawk and Camille Howes, at Waldon Studios in Williamsburg.
Ross Martin [who plays guitar on the album] and I have been playing together for two years as a duo and we have worked up some of these songs over that time. I felt like these album songs were a good representation of the music we have been making for a good while now. “Dreaming of You,” the last song on the record, is the only one that we arranged and tracked out separately; it has a very different feel than the rest of the album.
Yes, I noticed that! It’s a bit orchestral.
Yes, that was all arranged and written out by me. I produced this album myself and I think going forward, I would like to do more collaboration with visionaries and people I trust in the making of a record. I think I learned that it’s great to have another trusted set of ears for a project. It’s hard to step away and see things for yourself. I have a pretty clear vision about what I want things to sound like, but you also have to be gentle and kind to yourself. It’s hard to find that line.
You also have a podcast about the banjo called Banjo Chat. Can you tell me about how that got started and how you’re enjoying it?
It’s good! It started because I had a lot of questions for banjoists about the way they write songs, form solos, and think about music that I didn’t hear asked or answered on other podcasts. Also, I wanted to amplify the voices of people whose playing I loved who were female identifying, queer, gay, minorities, or just didn’t really fit into a bluegrass or old-time genre with their music.
So I started this podcast. I got some new software for editing and now I do the research, recording, editing, and mixing all by myself.
Before I let you go, I wanted to ask you about your time on Broadway. In 2016 you subbed on Broadway playing banjo for Bright Star – a show that brought bluegrass and old-time to the stage in a major way. Looking back, how did that highly choreographed experience change your approach to live shows?
Bright Star does have a huge regional presence. For me, that was my first Broadway subbing gig, subbing for Bennett Sullivan. Being in that environment made me realize that when you play live shows you need to get out of your own head, you can’t just be standing up there not giving any energy out to the audience. You have to have a lot of love to give out and to have your message clear in your head when you’re performing. Be happy to be there.
That’s what I learned from the theater. All these people bought tickets to see the show, they’re here to see a show and have a good time – not to see you in your head worrying about your performance.
Photo Credit: Aidan Grant
Madeline Combs contributed research and interview prep for this feature.
Artist:We Met In June Hometown: Currently living in Sogndal, Norway Latest Album:Going Home (released September 19, 2025)
What was the first moment that you knew you wanted to be a musician?
I remember my dad and I driving through Minnesota when I was about eight years old. He had bought Fleetwood Mac’s collection CD so we’d have something to listen to and we played it over and over again. I became completely obsessed and that’s when I found a deep interest in music. I knew I wanted to do what Stevie Nicks and Christine McVie were doing. – Sara
I think I was around seven when I saw the music video for “The Final Countdown” by Europe and I thought the guitar solo by John Norum was the coolest thing ever. I remember thinking, “I want to do that someday!” I’ve also always looked up to my dad, who’s a great guitar player. He was the one who introduced me to acoustic music and bluegrass, which has been the greatest gift. – Gjest
Genre is dead (long live genre!), but how would you describe the genres and styles your music inhabits?
We’d say it’s a blend of singer-songwriter, folk, Americana, and pop. Some journalists in Norway have called our music “Nordicana,” which is basically a Nordic take on Americana. We’re inspired by a lot of ’70s music like Fleetwood Mac, Jackson Browne, Crosby, Stills & Nash, and we also love Kacey Musgraves and the whole Nashville country-pop scene.
On top of that, we listen to a lot of acoustic music like Alison Krauss & Union Station, Gillian Welch, Nickel Creek, Molly Tuttle, etc. Our acoustic guitar playing is very influenced by those bands and the sound on our new record is a dreamy mixture of acoustic guitars, sometimes mandolin and banjo, plus drums, bass, keyboards, and synths. – Gjest
Which elements of nature do you spend the most time with and how do they impact your work?
Living on the west coast of Norway surrounded by mountains and fjords has given us a strong bond with nature – it’s part of our everyday life. I start every morning with a walk to clear my head and get some fresh air. It always seems to lift my mood a bit. – Sara
And then there’s the weather – we get a lot of cold, rainy days here, which makes it easier and more natural to stay inside and play music, write, and practice. We’ve been to Nashville, for example, and it’s hard to understand how people get anything done in that heat! – Gjest
If you didn’t work in music, what would you do instead?
I’d probably be a veterinarian. It used to be my dream before We Met In June. In Norway it’s really difficult to get into veterinary school and I’ve actually applied every year since high school just to see if I’d get in. This summer, for the first time, I was accepted – and I have to admit, it hurt a little bit to turn down the spot. [Laughs] – Sara
I honestly have no idea. As a kid, I thought excavators were the coolest thing, but I probably wouldn’t be good at anything else. I’m just glad I get to do music. – Gjest
What’s one question you wish interviewers would stop asking you?
We appreciate all questions, but there’s one that always comes up: “What’s it like being a couple and working so closely together?”
We get why people are curious, but for us it feels completely natural to spend so much time together. And, honestly, if you’re going to work that closely with someone, why not do it with your favorite person in the world? Of course it’s not without challenges, like any partnership, but most of the time it’s an advantage. That said, we could definitely be better at taking breaks – it’s music 24/7! – Sara
From the half dozen records under his own name to hits co-written for Garth Brooks, Brooks & Dunn, Blake Shelton, and Josh Turner; playing with Jerry Reed, Alan Jackson, Trisha Yearwood and the Earls of Leicester; or his work on Willie Nelson’s GRAMMY winning album, A Beautiful Time, in 2023, Shawn Camp has done just about everything in his 30+ year musical career.
But with his latest project, The Ghost Of Sis Draper, he’s able to cross off another box off his bucket list – making a concept album. According to the Arkansas native, the album’s origins trace back to the late ‘90s with his close friend and longtime collaborator Guy Clark, centering around a larger-than-life figure from Camp’s childhood named Sis Draper.
After laying the project’s foundation with the lead track “Sis Draper” one fateful day, the pair later penned “Magnolia Wind” soon thereafter with other songs slowly trickling out whenever they reconnected in the years that followed. Once the songs were all written, Camp took them to Nashville’s famed Cowboy Arms Hotel and Recording Spa – now the Clement House – where he knocked the entire record out in only one day.
Per Camp, the immediacy of his time in the studio helped to keep its collective sound cohesive – like Willie Nelson’s Red Headed Stranger and other standout thematic country albums that came before it. And, by the sound of it, there’s more like it coming soon.
“I’ve got lots of ideas for concept albums and songs I won’t release until I have a record like that to include them on,” Camp tells BGS. “I’ve got about 14 songs on another that I started recording last year that were inspired by Johnny Cash and Cowboy Jack Clement that’ll likely be out next year as well. It’ll be a lot different from the Sis Draper stuff, because we recorded it like Johnny Cash & The Tennessee Two – stripped down with an electric and upright bass – but in a similar fashion all belong together.”
Ahead of the release of The Ghost of Sis Draper, Camp caught up with BGS to discuss his relationship with Clark, musicals, the album’s old-time ties and more.
When did you first connect with Guy Clark?
Shawn Camp: I had a country label deal with Warner Bros. Records in the early ‘90s and in 1993 the people there asked me if I could write with anyone in Nashville, who would it be? I shot for the moon and said, “How about Guy Clark?” and before I knew it I was sitting across the room from him writing [“Stop, Look And Listen (Cow Catcher Blues)”] from my second album, 1994, that Warner shelved until 2010.
Guy was known at the time for writing songs that in parentheses included a second title he’d refer to them as and that was one of them. When you go to the Country Music Hall Of Fame now his entire writing room and workshop is on display there and it’s exactly the way it was the day he died. You can walk up to the glass and see his writing tables, his ashtrays, his guitars and all of his work tapes that he would record the day he wrote each song. He would spin around and write the title on the spine of a cassette to stick on a rack on the wall behind him. If you look into that room right now you can still see the cassette for “Stop, Look And Listen” about waist-high two or three feet from the wall on the right. It’s just a real treat to see his work environment that I spent so much time in up close again.
Years ago, I remember Guy getting mad at a fiddle he couldn’t get into tune so he smashed it into smithereens and stuck it up in his attic in a fiddle case. He got to telling me about it one time and crawled up there and set it down on his bench and it’s still laying there to this day. It’s been wild to see how they number and photograph everything so they can get it back to exactly how it was – it was a real trip to see.
How did the idea for this Sis Draper album first come about a quarter century ago?
I was just sitting around with Guy trying to write a song, but got stuck. It led to us talking for an hour or so until I eventually got around to telling him about a lady I knew in Arkansas named Sis Draper. She had a big beehive hairdo and a fiddle she carried around in a coffin case that she’d shred these old-time fiddle tunes on. Before I ever saw her, my grandpa and Uncle Cleve built her up as such a superstar that she was a world traveler in my eyes, even though in reality I don’t think she did much traveling at all.
After telling Guy about her I remember him leaning back in his chair, taking a big drag off a cigarette, and saying, “That’s your story right there,” which led to us writing more songs about Sis Draper and my family that together make up this new record.
Were there any differences in how you approached writing or recording this project compared to your other non-conceptual work?
We recorded it all in one day with the same musicians, so when you listen it doesn’t sound like a hodgepodge of different sessions and trying to make them fit together, because it basically happened live. In the past I’ve spent eight or nine months just recording the songs, but with Sis Draper it was easier to streamline because all the songs already sounded similar and fit together.
What motivated you to keep returning to this project through the years?
It’s taken a long time to come to fruition. [Laughs] We first started in the late ‘90s and would work on it anytime we got together and didn’t have other stuff to work on. We’d always thought about it being a musical play too. I even have started writing dialogue to turn these songs into that. It’s always been in the back of my mind, but now that Guy’s gone it felt like I needed to go ahead and get it into this form.
What specifically interests you about a play format?
I’ve always loved acting, even though I haven’t done much of it. I’d love to do it more and a play would be a cool way to accomplish that.
Several of the songs on Sis Draper have roots in old-time music. What made you want to weave those influences through these songs?
We wanted to pull from those old fiddle tunes that I heard Sis and others playing when I was a kid during jam sessions. Like “Lost Indian,” which is what “Big Foot Stomp” was written around. The common thread of it all was always an old fiddle tune melody, so I wanted to reference those songs in any way I could.
You and Guy both collaborated a lot with Verlon Thompson through the years. With that in mind, what did it mean to have him aboard to co-write “Old Hillbilly Hand-Me-Down” with y’all?
Verlon is one of the greatest songwriters around and an even better person. I don’t do a lot of co-writing with him, but we’re the best of friends. I love making music with him because we play off of each other so well.
The only song on the album you weren’t involved in writing was “New Cut Road,” but even so it still ties back to Guy and your childhood?
Yes. Guy wrote the song originally about his grandaddy Coleman Bonner who played fiddle in Kentucky. On the play-version of this album there’s dialogue that ties it all together. But when I was a kid, I started playing fiddle at 15. I remember standing on a ladder holding up a piece of sheet rock to the ceiling in a house my dad and I were remodeling. We had a little Gilligan’s Island radio playing across the room and Bobby Bare’s version of the song featuring Ricky Skaggs came on. It really inspired me to be a fiddler even though I didn’t know Guy wrote it at the time. Six short years later I was in Nashville, so it just felt like it belonged in this Sis Draper suite of songs.
Another tune I wanted to ask you about was “Grandpa’s Rovin’ Ear,” which I understand you originally constructed as a poem?
Guy and I wrote all those lyrics in different places, but for the longest time didn’t have a melody to go with it, so I made one up before going in to record. Similarly, “The Checkered Shirt Band” started as a rap that we played without a melody, almost like a group chant. I put melody to that right before heading into the studio, as well and was inspired by the old-time tune “I Don’t Love Nobody.”
The guy’s names I mention on [“The Checkered Shirt Band”] – Rodney, Chuck, and Rodge – are all band members from my days with the Grand Prairie Boys in Arkansas. We’d dress up like Bill Monroe & the Blue Grass Boys. I recently went back there to receive a Lifetime Achievement Award from the Arkansas Country Music Awards and got those boys together to play for the first time in years. We played that song and a couple others from the album and it was such a treat. It meant a lot to not only do that, but shout them out by name in the song as well.
The end of Sis Draper includes “Hello Dyin’ Day,” the last song you and Guy ever recorded together, sandwiched between “The Death Of Sis Draper” parts 1 and 2. What did it mean to you to include that one here?
It represents the deathbed confessions of Sis Draper. It just felt like The Ghost Of Sis Draper to me, due to the mood of it all. It’s her last words, but when we return to “The Death Of Sis Draper” in the medley it’s like Sis’ funeral, so it all just kind of belonged together in my mind. It’s about 10 minutes of music that all goes together, so hopefully it’ll be listened to that way and not dissected too much.
With that being said, what are your thoughts on song sequencing? It sounds like you designed this Sis Draper record as something intended to be listened to in order?
We’ve really gotten away from the arc of storylines on albums. It’s a two-minute world out there now, so if you can get just one single out that’s all a lot of people shoot for anymore. I miss those records like Red Headed Stranger that take you through all different kinds of moods and serve as an escape from the real world. I enjoy going on those little trips and hope listeners enjoy going on this Sis Draper adventure with us.
What has the process of bringing The Ghost Of Sis Draper taught you about yourself?
It’s taught me not to hesitate and to make the move to record stuff when it crosses your mind because if you don’t it may never happen. It initiated a whole new lease on life for me because I hadn’t put out a solo album since 2006. A lot in the world has changed since then just like it has in my own life, but I’ll never stop wanting to make music.
You know what Friday means! New music, new songs, new videos – and of course, You Gotta Hear This.
Let’s begin with some Good Country from Idaho’s own Colby Acuff. His new album, Enjoy the Ride, is out today and we’re enjoying the ride ourselves with a lyric video for the title track from his excellent collection of country that’s both traditional and forward-looking born from beyond the continental divide. Singer-songwriter Kashena Sampson brings us a song from her brand new album, Ghost Of Me, that we find at the intersection of vibey Americana and contemplative indie. “Thick As Thieves” is a daydream in a song about teenage years, friendship, and holding onto – if you can – the ineffable magic of youth.
One of our longtime friends, Caitlin Canty, released her new album, Night Owl Envies the Mourning Dove, yesterday. Based in Vermont, the singer-songwriter crafts music that rests comfortably between folk, bluegrass, string band, and Americana sounds. To celebrate her new album, she’s shared a special live performance video of “Don’t Worry About Nothing,” inspired by parenthood, our frenetic day-to-day, and giving up control – and worry – whenever we can. Speaking of string band music, Damn Tall Buildings, a Brooklyn-based group playing on the fringes of bluegrass, old-time, and swing, have a brand new video for “Turkish Airlines,” a funny and all-too-relatable track they describe as portraying the haze of travel dreams, the desire to be seen, and late-night self-reflection.
And don’t miss your essential dose of bluegrass saxophone, as one of the foremost purveyors of the form, Eddie Barbash, begins a BGS mini-series sharing videos of solo performances of traditional fiddle tunes on sax. To begin, check out his rendition of “Forked Deer,” which Barbash picked up from Sierra Hull while touring with Cory Wong. If you aren’t familiar with Barbash, you may be surprised how perfect fiddle tunes can feel on saxophone. If you are already familiar, you’ll love getting to hear him offer his takes on these classic melodies. More sax-fiddle tunes are coming soon.
There’s a little something for everyone in this week’s roundup, as usual. We hope you enjoy, because You Gotta Hear This!
Colby Acuff, “Enjoy The Ride”
Artist:Colby Acuff Hometown: Coeur d’Alene, Idaho Song: “Enjoy The Ride” Album:Enjoy The Ride Release Date: October 3, 2025
In Their Words: “The title track of this project does not pull any punches. This song sets up the world where this story takes place. Like most of my songs, it takes place in the real world. In the plains of Oklahoma, the mountains of Idaho, or the heat of the desert. This record is for real people. People that we talked to on the streets and truly got a look into who they are. This song is meant to represent the people of this country for what it is. I hope people love this one as much as I do.” – Colby Acuff
Eddie Barbash, “Forked Deer”
Artist:Eddie Barbash Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee Song: “Forked Deer” Album:Larkspur Release Date: November 28, 2025 (The album will be released one song at a time with the last track coming out Nov. 28.)
In Their Words: “This performance was recorded in a dry streambed at the Larkspur Conservation natural burial ground in northern Tennessee. I learned ‘Forked Deer’ from Sierra Hull while we were on tour with Cory Wong. The harmonic lift in the B part is what makes the tune for me. Modulating to the 5 is a tried-and-true move at least as old as the Baroque. In my playing I tried to capture what I love most about bluegrass – the fast and hard-driving, yet still light and bouncy, groove and the thrilling rhythmic and melodic variations. To achieve the bluegrass backbeat, I made generous use of one of my favorite bowing techniques that I learned from Alex Hargreaves called the ‘Georgia shuffle bow.'” – Eddie Barbash
Video Credits: Shot and edited by Jeremy Stanley.
Caitlin Canty, “Don’t Worry About Nothing”
Artist:Caitlin Canty Hometown: Danby, Vermont Song: “Don’t Worry About Nothing” Album:Night Owl Envies the Mourning Dove Release Date: October 2, 2025
In Their Words: “I started writing this song to my son when his Magna-Tiles castle came crashing down in a spectacular heap. It felt like what was happening at that time to my view of the wider world. This song helps me wind down from worrying about what doesn’t matter so much and focus my powers on fighting for what does matter. It’s written from my own unshakeable mom’s point of view – I love how she sees the world and walks through it with a smile, even on the darkest days. I’m so looking forward to touring Night Owl Envies the Mourning Dove and playing this song each night with my full band! ” – Caitlin Canty
Video Credits: Filmed and edited by Brian Carroll. Mixed by Dave Sinko.
Damn Tall Buildings, “Turkish Airlines”
Artist:Damn Tall Buildings Hometown: Brooklyn, New York Song: “Turkish Airlines” Album:The Universe Is Hungry Release Date: October 8, 2025 (single); October 24, 2025 (album)
In Their Words: “We are honored to share this single from our fourth upcoming studio LP with BGS! ‘Turkish Airlines’ explores the sensation of being loved, but not being sure which version of you someone is loving. We’re always evolving and changing as humans, and this song floats through the uncertainty that can be triggered by that truth. We had a blast crafting this track to portray the haze of travel dreams, the desire to be seen through the complexity, and late-night self-reflection. Through creative experimentation in the recording and production of the track, we were able to bring a bit of studio magic to this song that we hope will become a DTB classic. Hit us up on the socials to let us know what you think!. Thanks for listening, see y’all on the road.” – Damn Tall Buildings
Kashena Sampson, “Thick As Thieves”
Artist:Kashena Sampson Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee Song: “Thick As Thieves” Album:Ghost Of Me Release Date: October 3, 2025
In Their Words: “I wrote this song for my best friend, Sulayla. It’s a daydream about our teenage years growing up in Las Vegas. It’s about those carefree days when the world felt full of endless possibilities. The song came to me after a conversation we had, realizing that adulthood isn’t quite what we imagined and wishing we could go back to those golden moments. Driving through the desert in my old Ford Explorer, listening to the Beatles and feeling like anything was possible.” – Kashena Sampson
Track Credits: Kashena Sampson – Vocals, songwriter Jolana Sampson – Songwriter B.L. Reed – Guitar Tom Myers – Drums Jon Estes – Bass
Photo Credit: Eddie Barbash by Jeremy Stanley; Caitlin Canty by Brian Carroll.
Michigan music isn’t just Motown or the MC5, Bob Seger or (ugh) Kid Rock. While it’s seldom mentioned as a modern bluegrass hotbed, the Wolverine State has become an unlikely 21st century hub of the latter-day bluegrass offshoot jamgrass. And at the center of this upland strain of music is where you’ll find Greensky Bluegrass, a quintet that is our Artist of the Month for October.
The roots of jamgrass go back to the 1970s, when New Grass Revival took inspiration from the bluegrass adjacency of the Grateful Dead and other proto-Americana rock acts, injecting rock and roll overtones into their music. It was also during this period that Dead guitarist Jerry Garcia went back to his original folkie roots with 1975’s Old & In the Way, a super-session album that would stand as the top-selling bluegrass LP of all time until O Brother, Where Art Thou? a quarter-century later.
Fast-forward to the 1980s, when New Grass Revival banjo maestro Béla Fleck went in some truly idiosyncratic and worldly directions with his new group The Flecktones. Then came the 1990s-vintage H.O.R.D.E. Festival and a generation of bands like String Cheese Incident, Leftover Salmon, and Phish that further obliterated whatever boundary remained between bluegrass and rock.
That set the stage for Greensky Bluegrass, whose emergence in 2000 cued up another chapter of combining traditional bluegrass with rock-band theatrics (to the point of even including a bitchin’ onstage light show). Greensky originally formed as a trio of mandolinist/frontman Paul Hoffman, guitarist Dave Bruzza and banjo player Michael Arlen Bont, convening in the fall of 2000 after meeting at an open-mic show in Kalamazoo, Michigan.
Greensky had plenty of traditionalist bona fides, covering classic bluegrass pantheon cuts by the likes of Stanley Brothers, Charlie Poole, and Bill Monroe. But they’d cover the likes of Pink Floyd, Bruce Springsteen, Prince, Talking Heads, and (yes) the Grateful Dead, too. That has continued over the years as their lineup expanded to a quintet with the addition of resonator guitarist Anders Beck and bassist Michael Devol. As an indicator of their eclectic tendencies, one of the studio producers Greensky has worked with is Steve Berlin (who handled 2016’s Shouted, Written Down & Quoted), best-known as saxophonist of the acclaimed Latino rock band Los Lobos.
One big milestone of Greensky’s first decade came at Telluride, the storied annual bluegrass festival in Colorado, where they won the band contest in 2006. They’ve steadily built themselves up as a live draw playing bigger venues, becoming a major presence at Red Rocks, the Colorado amphitheater that is the high church of jamgrass. This September, Greensky played the 20th headlining show of their career at Red Rocks.
As they progressed, Greensky provided an inspirational example for younger acts following in their wake, most notably a young guitarist from their home state of Michigan. Born William Apostol in 1992 in the college town of Lansing, he adopted the stage name Billy Strings as a teenager. Greensky was well-established by then and served as Strings’ mentors, collaborating frequently and giving him a choice opening-act slot on a 2018 tour. Strings has gone on to become a worldwide arena-level star, something like the jamgrass genre’s Nirvana equivalent to Greensky’s Sonic Youth.
Fittingly, Strings is one of the cameo guests appearing on the new Greensky album, XXV, which marks the group’s 25-year anniversary with all kinds of star power. Nine of the album’s 13 tracks feature guest appearances from some of the top names in the field.
Sam Bush, a co-founder of the previously mentioned jamgrass pioneers New Grass Revival, opens the first track “Can’t Stop Now” with one of his trademark lightning-speed mandolin runs. Americana stars Nathaniel Rateliff and Aoife O’Donovan turn up to provide lead vocals on a couple of songs. Other tracks feature String Cheese Incident drummer Jason Hann, New Orleans scion Ivan Neville and, from Trey Anastasio Band’s horn section, trumpeter Jennifer Hartswick and trombonist Natalie Cressman. Among the guests with Michigan ties are Phil Lesh & Friends pianist Holly Bowling and, from the Great Lakes State supergroup Sweet Water Warblers, vocalist Lindsay Lou.
Greensky has always been more than willing to expand tunes out to epic, near-galactic dimensions, and XXV has more than enough sprawling solos to satisfy the pickiest of jamgrass fans. Most notable is the 14-plus minutes of “Last Winter in the Copper Country,” on which Bowling’s rippling piano takes center-stage. Bowling also stars on “Windshield,” a longtime Greensky favorite that appeared on the band’s 2014 album If Sorrows Swim in an arrangement of just her piano and Hoffman’s powerful bellow – the closest thing to operatic bluegrass this side of The Hillbenders’ bluegrass take on The Who’s Tommy. That’s only one of the songs from throughout the Greensky discography that they reprise in (sometimes drastically) rearranged form for XXV.
In anticipation of the new album’s release date, which is set for Halloween, check out our Essential Greensky Bluegrass playlist below. Plenty of further Greensky content is also on the way, including a feature interview with the group and plenty of excellent picks from the archives, as well. Follow along all month here on BGS and on our social media pages as we celebrate Greensky Bluegrass as our Artist of the Month.
The last time Mipso were our Artist of the Month it was 2023, in the run-up to their release of Book of Fools. At that time, I wrote our article unveiling the group as our artists-of-honor with the central conceit of that writing a straightforward but relatively groundbreaking plank in the band’s foundational mission as musicians:
“…[Mipso] aren’t defined by their ambitions; and their ambitions don’t seem to ever be conflated with conquering anything. Instead, this is a band building something.”
Over 13 years, six studio albums, hundreds of millions of streams, and more than 1200 shows, that fact remained true. No matter the shifting sands of their music making, industry successes, and the natural ebb and flow of more than a decade touring and creating together – even in moments of uncertainty, growing pains, and stress – it was always clear, at every juncture, that this band wasn’t just trying to climb industry and corporate ladders toward success. They were building something, not just building towards something.
A few months ago, the group of Wood Robinson, Libby Rodenbough, Jacob Sharp, and Joseph Terrell announced their Farewell For Now Tour and a deliberate and intentional stepping away from the band that was the gravitational center of their lives from their college days into their 30s. Fans and peers around the globe were devastated and saddened. But, with that stalwart keystone at the center of their artistry, it was immediately clear Mipso aren’t abandoning anything. Or walking away from something that will wither, wilt, or die away without them. The “something” they’ve been building has, gratefully, been built to last without themselves or their egos at its core. Their songs, their mission, and their impact are structurally sound, unwavering in the face of the purposeful uncertainty of the band’s next new era.
Mipso perform with Sean Trischka on drums and percussion and special guest fiddler Stephanie Coleman in NYC during their Farewell For Now Tour. Photo by Elliot Crotteau.
Mipso’s final studio recording, the gutting, emotional, and convicting “Singing Song” (released in August) wasn’t originally meant to be such a well-fitting final track from the group. But, whether coincidentally, fatefully, or aptly, it finds in its crosshairs the exact pathway through which Mipso’s legacy can and will live on with or without the band acting as their own life support system.
“Singing Song” imagines a not so far-fetched reality in which songbirds are going extinct in the accelerating climate crisis and humans are assigned birdsongs to help keep alive by singing, refusing to let their avian melodies die, go silent, or be forgotten. It becomes the role of the community itself to hold memories, together, and move into the future with our pasts to help guide and inform of what’s to come.
This is what Mipso have built for us. And they have built it for the eons. Their music will live on in each of us, as we carry their melodies – “Louise” and “Carolina Rolling By” and “People Change” and “Coming Down the Mountain” and so many more – with us into our collective uncertain future. Mipso were never building a mine or a factory or a quarry by which they could extract all the resources they could from us. No, they built us a home. Joist by joist, shingle by shingle. And now, though they may be moving out for a time, we’ve all been invited to maintain this idyllic Carolina mountain shack they’ve gifted to us.
A parting such as this begs the question, “Who will sing for Mipso?” but the answer is immediately obvious and indelible: All of us. Because this band, this impeccable string folk foursome, has never been solely about the people who make it up. It’s always been a community far greater than the simple sum of its parts or only made up of the folks on stage.
Midway through their Farewell For Now Tour, BGS connected with Mipso via Zoom for an in-depth round-table discussion about their decisions to put the band “on the shelf” for a little while. Our conversation was full of intention, nostalgia, and a remarkable variety of ways to look into the future for redemption and renewal.
I wanted to start by having y’all talk a little bit about how you feel about how your mission as a group – prioritizing art and community and building something instead of going somewhere – has informed this decision to pause the band. Whether it’s been stated overtly or has been the undercurrent behind what you’ve all done, that mission is clearly informing this decision as well.
I think some people see this farewell as a switch being turned off and a new thing happening after an old thing goes, but I don’t see it that way at all. I see this as an extension of what you have always been doing, being intentional and deliberate with the group and its purposes. So I wonder what your reactions might be to that, or if you have thoughts about that as we’re talking about this next era that you’re entering together?
Libby Rodenbough: Yeah, I agree with that. I feel like what we’re trying to do here is protect intentionality rather than letting this slow creep of unintentionality take over what we’re doing. It almost feels like that’s the natural inertia of the world, to let anxiety run things for you.
I see this as trying to protect the preciousness of how we’ve done it for so long from an anxious orientation, which I really feel is just like the way the world wants you to think about everything.
Joseph Terrell: That was a beautiful way to put it, Justin. Thank you. And also thanks for being one of our friends and pals and loved ones in this corner of the world for so long. I appreciate the way you’ve just explained us to us. That’s actually very helpful.
I think there are all kinds of “supposed tos” that we allow to rule our lives and tell us what to do next. And this decision, I think, for us to put the band on the shelf for a while is very much a deliberate decision that comes from years of conversation. It’s an attempt to do what we really want to do, on purpose, based on our love for each other and what we’ve built together – as opposed to what’s expected of us or what we are “supposed to do.”
Jacob Sharp: I think there were moments where we did make decisions based on what we thought we should do. We had the benefit of being able to trust each other when we heard from one or many people that it didn’t feel right. Like, we flirted with Nashville, we flirted with content creation and all these things that people are telling us you need to lean into in the industry, you need to lean into online.
There’s an element of this decision right now, of us having realized that something that used to feel really good and obvious was less so in the current version of it. Looking around, I’ve said in different ways that it’s like it’s a blessing to feel full and to be content with that.
All of us are very full on what we’ve been able to do and how we’ve been able to do it. And as we, over the last year and a half, talked about this in different ways and tried different things, it was easy to imagine how it would be irreversibly not good if we kept going down the path that didn’t involve us – in some of this vision that you’re recognizing that has been in different ways at our core throughout.
Wood Robinson: I think that, as we’ve let this decision percolate over [time], we’ve thought through this idea of putting it on the shelf for a little while – probably the first time we genuinely talked about it was on our Europe tour from hell, and there have been many different feelings at many different times. …
You might as well have a really fulfilling and intentional process of arriving at a conclusion that you actually feel good about. And the beautiful thing about music is that it isn’t as if we’re going away. Everyone has links to our entire 15 years of music making on their phones at any time.
When you remove the impetus of an end goal, it immediately becomes so clear that none of this is a zero-sum game, right? None of this is black and white or binary – “We’re done now. We can’t ever do that again.” … These songs, this catalog, this thing that you’ve created together, it has a life that isn’t dependent on all of you continuing to do this the same way that you’ve always done it. And that longevity, that we’re foregrounding right now, I think that is gonna be built on that same foundation of intention.
WR: I’m currently working in conservation and over this past weekend I drove down from Salt Lake City to Zion [National Park], around it, and then back, which was a lot of driving. That’s neither here nor there. I’m very used to that. But I re-listened to the most recent season of Scene On Radio about capitalism. My favorite episode of that is really talking about that [Donella] Meadows book from the ‘70s, The Limits to Growth. It was a very poignant moment of thinking [about how] the growth virus infects everything.
If the only way of thinking of a future for any entity is for it to grow indefinitely, even if you don’t know what it’s supposed to grow into, that’s cancer. If the primary goal of a group is to make music together, is to make beautiful art together, putting it away for a while does nothing to impede that. Maybe the growth mindset really infects that. I was chewing on that when I finished the series and it weighed heavy, but it also reinforced my feeling really good about this decision.
LR: I don’t know if it’s coincidental, Wood, or if we talked about it, but I just finished that season of Scene On Radio as well and I loved that episode. It makes you wonder then, what’s the alternative to growth? To infinite growth.
I feel like the world shows us that it’s death and rebirth. Like death is the natural way for things to go. I think we have a culture that – in a way [is] not unrelated to this cancerous growth mindset – is really afraid of death. Really afraid of talking about death, thinking about death, having rituals about death. Not to be like dramatic or morbid about what we’re doing, but death happens in the natural world every fall.
It’s not necessarily tragic and it’s not world-ending. Conversely, it’s essential for life. I think that saying goodbye to something – I said this at one of our shows in this first little run – but saying goodbye to something is a really good practice, because it’s how I want to go through my life, generally. It’s how I want to relate to life itself, too. That death is part of what makes things beautiful and meaningful.
I didn’t even need to say what I was gonna say, ’cause you just said it! [Laughs] How helpful it is to think about infinite growth as being unsustainable through the lens of nature and ecosystems – what an excellent model. Looking out the windows, stepping outside, literally grounding ourselves in our natural surroundings shows us how stasis, maintenance, renewal, all of those things are equally productive as working 40, 70, 80 hours a week and driving thousands of miles. Just “being” is a lesson that we can all learn.
This connection, the death and renewal of nature and the seasons, it’s making me think of “Singing Song” and it’s making me think of the contours of “Singing Song” being about nature, about environment, and about the Rachel Carson of it all. But also how the song applies to where y’all are at with Mipso at this stage.
Talking about the infinite growth mindset and how it’s pretty well antithetical to how the earth actually works and how we all work as biological beings, the way that y’all draw on nature and the environment to convey the message of “Singing Song” feels so apropos. Can you talk about the song a little bit and can you talk about how, for y’all, if it bumps into or up against any of these things we’re already talking about here?
WR: Obviously, “Singing Song” is about a not-quite-hypothetical world in which all of the birds die and everyone is tasked with singing the song of a bird so that their memory lives on as a ghost among us forever and ever. It wasn’t intended to be quite so on the nose to be the last song that we released before we went away and people were tasked with singing our memories forever and ever. But it really worked out to be a little on the nose there.
I think that there is a real beauty in memory and in the fact that every person is just a little spirit that enters the world and then leaves. Then there are little wisps of that spirit in memories, in people that continued after them until those people’s memories go away. That impermanence becomes permanent in a very poetic way. We haven’t really talked so much outwardly about how that song really worked out well for this moment, but I think that in the context of what we’re talking about now, the conclusion of something, gives it a lot more meaning.
Sometimes I think about how I really love the Marvel universe because it never ends. [Laughs] That feels like a drug to me. I don’t like that I like that. But the world just keeps on building and building and it feels like there’s no intention, because it can’t be let to rest. The reason that it can’t be let to rest is the very growth that we’re talking about.
And sometimes I think about bands who keep on being on tour for 60 years playing the same songs and that just can’t not be sad to me. Always wanting to relive the moments of the past that somehow, like a little bit of morphine, give us meaning in a moment.
JT: I think, at our best, we were doing something we’ve done together that is beautiful in its uniqueness, four people making something that we couldn’t have made on our own together. I’m really proud of us that we’ve never phoned-in the live shows. While it’s easy to be cynical about the music industry part of stuff nowadays, I don’t think we’ve ever been cynical about music making. I really don’t think it’s a stretch to say that concerts, at their best – not just ours – but the spaces that we can create with other people live together in a room, human bodies sweating together. It really is a sacred thing.
Partly this is us being able to say, “Hey, this has been so special and I love you guys and I love what we’ve built. And we wanna do other stuff for a while now.” That attitude has allowed this tour, I think, to be a place where we can really be appreciative and grateful.
We did a few acoustic shows on the last run, just the four of us on stage, and it was really fun. We haven’t done that in a while. We’re standing close together and we’re listening to each other. I like playing with all kinds of people and I love [that] every time I play with new musicians, I’ll learn something. But also, with these four people together, I have this kind of home feeling of just rightness and intuition that I really love. I’m glad we’re able to celebrate that.
“Singing Song” also makes me think of “Who Will Sing For Me?” and the idea of, “Who will sing for Mipso?” Who will carry on the songs of Mipso now? It’s such an easy question to answer, because so many of these songs are so important to so many people.
This tour is a bit of a family reunion, you guys have had some really great special guests, you’ve had and will have some really great openers. You talked a little bit about that feeling of home, never wanting to phone it in for the live shows, and doing the acoustic sets – how has it felt on the Farewell For Now Tour so far? How are audience reactions and what are the takeaways for y’all as you are going through this tour?
LR: It makes me think about how I feel ambivalent about the idea of having a wedding, but if I was gonna have one – I’m single by the way [Laughs] – but if I was gonna have one, I think a lot of the motivation would be to get people together. So, in some ways, I see this tour as just an occasion. It’s an occasion for getting together, an occasion for thinking about the past together. And it’s been an occasion for me to look through all my old photos and try to make sense of my many overlapping memories of tours, of the same cities in geographic regions, and certainly an occasion to get our friends together and play songs.
When you’re doing tours interminably, it doesn’t feel like you can really make an ask of people as easily. But if you’re like, “Hey, this is maybe the last time we’re ever gonna play,” it’s kind of a trump card on people’s schedules. [Laughs] In the same way as getting married, we at least maintain the fiction that it only happens once in every life.
JS: One funny thing, Justin, was we have known this was coming for a long time and our fans have, too. We announced it a number of months ago, but night one of each of these shows is really specific. Like, to what city and what venue we’re playing. There’s a reason.
Night one [of the tour] was in Seattle, a place that we all really love and have had great times at Tractor Tavern, one of our favorite venues. We came out loose, joking, irreverent. And our fans were so sad. Not all of them, but they were having this moment of sadness. It was one funny thing that we have talked about in the intervening days, is we need to try and rectify the difference between where our emotional space is and where certain crowds are, because there is an element of this where it’s a gift to ourselves and also we hope it’s a gift for our fans.
‘Cause we know what it feels like or what it would feel like to know you weren’t gonna see your potentially favorite band again. If we are that for anybody, we want them to have this moment to commune one more time with us and the other people in their community that connect with the music and with the songs themselves.
It’s been funny to feel this emotional responsibility of occupying both the reality of where we’re at with it emotionally and also where we might imagine other people are – both in the music and the presence and how we talk about it. But it is that nature of it being, to Joseph’s point, the sacred space that we’ve gotten to occupy together a lot more than we could have ever imagined. It is like this final gift that we’re giving to ourselves of getting to do it within a very definite and intentional manner for this final month.
Maybe I’m putting carts before horses – never done that before in my life – but as you guys are looking to the future, what is Mipso potentially gonna look like over the next 13 years? Is it maybe going to be like Nickel Creek or Bonny Light Horseman or boygenius? We get a record cycle maybe once every few years, a sold-out tour.
As you are looking to the future, do you have any sort of sense of what the models are that you’re looking at or what sort of rhythm you might picture as a best case scenario for how Mipso might be a part of your individual constellations of creativity as you move forward? Have you had any discussions about that?
JS: Yeah, we don’t know. I think the point of taking a break is to be able to see that question clearly, because when you’re so in-the-rhythm as we were, it was a given that there was always another tour and it was a given that you prioritize Mipso creatively, timewise. That was the spoken and unspoken contract for the majority of our adult lives.
I think of it now as like Mipso became this drug, like our phones do. I want to be rewired from that, I want to be away from it long enough that I can know why I’m picking up the phone, why I’m picking up the Mipso, why I’m thinking about these songs. And for that answer and the meaning behind it to be the “why” of if we would ever do it again.
But of course, it’s funny, as soon as you announce a farewell tour promoters are like, “Great, can we add something next weekend? What about this festival next year? Here’s a reunion tour.” We think we need a pretty long break to know if and why we would do it again.
JT: I’m proud of us for not having figured that out yet, because it wouldn’t be a true stepping away if we had that plan in place.
The one idea I do [love] is that if we get The Onlies and like Palmyra and a couple of other groups that, on a rotating basis over the next 10 years, we can always have an active Mipso going made up of some of them and they could just kinda keep it going on the road without us.
WR: Yeah, I feel like if we had an answer to that [question] it would be destroying the point of the tour itself, at least for my own part. I think the point is to be open to it, but not planning anything. I don’t think that any of us are absolutely adamant that we never play music together as the four of us in a public setting again. To say that we’re putting it away, but we’re actually gonna start a festival next summer, would feel disingenuous to the people that are having strong emotions about it right now.
LR: I would say honest openness – an honest relationship with the lack of control that we have over the future – that’s becoming central to my life. Philosophy has become central over the last few years. It’s not only that I like being open, I do like the feeling of it. I like relinquishing control, but I also believe that it is true. And I also believe that a great deal of unhappiness comes from people trying to exert control over things they have no control over. They wanna control outcomes. That’s not possible. I don’t think that’s a human ability. So I think we’re really trying to love our humanness and not try to impose superpowers that we don’t have.
Mipso take a bow after the close of their NYC stop on their Farewell For Now Tour. Photo by Elliot Crotteau.
I know all of you have been working on other projects, other music – other projects in your lives that aren’t music as well. As we’re thinking about what’s next, as we put Mipso away for a little while, what’s filling you up? What’s exciting you? When you wake up in the morning, what is the thing that you’re ready to pour yourself into, bring to the world, and have that energy reflected back at you – in the same way as when you were getting Mipso up and running and started?
LR: I think, when I wake up here at Rare Bird [Farm], where I have a cabin where I live on my own, I usually don’t have to do anything first thing in the morning. I just start strumming the guitar and singing lines. It just feels like there will never be an end to the pleasure of doing that.
And I think I might even love it more now that I’m not thinking about an album cycle at all. It’s very motivating to me to just think all I’m doing, like the whole cycle, is contained in this moment. Something filtering through me and I sing it and it goes out into the ether.
JT: [To Jacob and Wood] Come on, you guys have really obvious answers to this.
JS: Okay, Wood and I both have wives that are pregnant, Justin!
Oh my god, congratulations! We’re gonna get Mipso second gen.
JS: Thank you!
Yeah, what’s next? My year has been so defined by change – unexpected, forced, and then chosen – that I’m excited for stability and for building a home in my former home, North Carolina, again, but in a very different way. And for the first time ever to not be looking at multiple years of calendars filled with tours and the ideas of tours.
I’m welcoming all the insecurities that have already started to creep up because of that. And I’m looking forward to finding answers about how I’m different than maybe I thought I was in the absence of this ecosystem, this rhythm of life, and with the baby in tow and how that changes the type of music I wanna make. And with whom.
I imagine letting the moss grow over the rolling stone that is not rolling anymore. Like what a novel feeling. We’ll watch it grow.
LR: That sounds so soft.
Wait, what is my identity if I’m not traveling constantly? If I don’t live in airports and hotels? Will people care about me? Will I be remembered? And then, you see the little inchworm on the moss and you’re like, “Oh, that’s all that matters anyway.”
JS: Yeah, you don’t have to answer those questions when you’re always filling the space with something else. I’m eager for some answers in that space.
JT: I was just outside while you’re asking that question – I’ve never had a dog before. I’ve never lived with an animal that I took care of. I love her so much. My other three bandmates have all done that, been through that phase a little bit more than I have. But I just moved back to North Carolina, too, and I’m feeling a little bit of that homey warmth. I’m so excited to plant some persimmon trees and to finish building this house that I’ve been working on for a few years.
That really does get me so excited to wake up and work on that. That’s the place that I can make music and have people over and really feel at home. It’s a version of that homey life that we haven’t really had as much of an opportunity to do for whatever, 12 years.
WR: I’m in a similar space to Jacob with there being a crazy amount of changes. But one thing that I have really come to terms with, that I recognize about myself, is that I really like being exhausted at the end of the day from a lot of work. From a lot of either physical or emotional work that feels like I made not forward motion in the sense of going for growth like I said, but forward motion.
So in conservation [work] I feel very fulfilled, because there is a tangible aspect of protection and feeling like I’m fighting a deliberate and pronounced fight for the future of that. Hopefully my kid inherits that. I always knew that I liked being tired at the end of the day, but I’m really excited to recognize a sort of routine that is within a smaller world than Mipso inhabited, but with a real, pronounced, and just fight that I’m fighting within it.
I feel a lot of gratitude right now for getting to be a small, small star in the constellation of Mipso in so many different ways over the years. And honestly, it will always be one of the things I’m most proud of to be misattributed as a Mipso member in 2017 by the Raleigh News & Observer. Huge moment for us all. [Laughs] That’s going on my bio for the rest of my life!
JS: Justin, I would say likewise to you. Now that we’re actively in the present nostalgia of saying goodbye to different cities and songs and motions together, the thing that’s hardest for me to imagine fully saying goodbye to is the built-in excuse of seeing this wide community that’s spread across the world. That we’ve built together with frequency and getting catch-ups on your life and hearing reflections on how you understand things that have happened to us that you’ve heard about or seen in the music or the shows.
That’s something I value so much and you’ve been a treasured part of that, so thank you. I really appreciate that.
JT: Totally. Thank you, Justin. One of our most trusted narrators over the last many years. Thank you for playing that role for others.
Photo Credit: Photos courtesy of Mipso, shot by Elliot Crotteau.
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