Gillian Welch and David Rawlings – one of the most beloved modern duos in bluegrass and Americana – brought music from their GRAMMY Award winning album, Woodland (2024), to The Late Show with Stephen Colbert earlier this month, performing “Empty Trainload of Sky” live on television. They also performed one of their classic tracks, “Look at Miss Ohio,” a song from Welch’s seminal 2003 project, Soul Journey, for a web-exclusive video. Watch both performances, which feature Punch Brothers and Hawktail bassist Paul Kowert backing up the pair, right here on BGS.
Welch and Rawlings are currently in the middle of a 30+ date headlining tour, with two concerts set for Nashville’s Ryman Auditorium, the Mother Church of country music, on May 22 and May 23. Earlier this month, coinciding with their appearance on The Late Show, they also appeared for two nights at Carnegie Hall before continuing along the East Coast. In June, they’ll be heading out West and concluding their run in the Pacific Northwest.
Between them, they’ve racked up endless awards and accolades, including 14 GRAMMY nominations and five GRAMMY wins collectively. In 2015, they were honored by the Americana Music Association with a Lifetime Achievement Award for Songwriting. But it’s not these well-deserved recognitions, their millions of streams and sales, or even their fantastic contributions to films like O Brother, Where Art Thou? and The Ballad of Buster Scruggs that will be their crowning achievements. Instead, it’s the nearly universal love, admiration, and respect they receive from within and outside the American roots music community that best showcases their far-reaching impact.
That and, of course, the incredible body of work they’ve fashioned together. Whether the timeless and twenty-year-old staples like “Look at Miss Ohio” or the blustery and destructive new work, “Empty Trainload of Sky,” Welch & Rawlings continue to gift us all songs that will stand the test of time – and that we each carry with us wherever we go.
You Gotta Hear This! It’s another excellent roundup of track and video premieres plus new music arriving on digital “store shelves” today. There’s bluegrass, folk, Americana, and more.
Kicking us off, Kentucky’s Bibelhauser Brothers enlist their hero and friend Sam Bush on their rendition of “One Tin Soldier,” from their upcoming album, Down The Road. As an added bonus, Aaron Bibelhauser and Sam Bush had a nearly hour-long chat about the track, too – you can find and watch that video below. Also in a bluegrass space, Irish ‘grasser Danny Burns offers his cover of “Brother Wind,” a modern classic written by Tim O’Brien. Dan Tyminski joins Burns on the track, which does O’Brien and Darrell Scott’s versions of the song justice, for sure.
Alt- and indie-folk outfit JOSEPH return with new music, bringing us a video for their new track, “Bye and Bye,” borrowing a classic and often ecclesiastical line to explore growth, loss, and the drawn out transformations life brings each of us – while tipping their hat to a bar by the same name. You can also hear Appalachian mountain music duo the Wildmans perform “Autumn 1941,” a song co-written by Berklee’s Mark Simos and Roger Brown that touches on the harrowing reality of eugenics in the mountains of the Southeast.
East Nashville’s favorite band of lovable bluegrass delinquents, East Nash Grass, released a new single earlier this week, too! Don’t miss the excellent and lovely “Followin’ You,” written by ENG guitarist James Kee and new Travelin’ McCourys fiddler Christian Ward especially for Maddie Denton to sing. Plus, Nick Dumas is readying a bluegrass album, offering our readers a peek at a new video for “Where Have You Been,” a song about how sometimes folks you love “go away” without actually leaving.
There’s still more fantastic roots music, though! Award-winning fiddling phenoms Deanie Richardson and Kimber Ludiker are teaming up on a twin-fiddle album coming soon from Mountain Home Music Company; you can hear “Cacklin’ Hen,” the first offering from that project, below. And, wrapping us up this week, Jessica Willis Fisher went into the studio with Bryan Sutton playing guitar and mandolin to record the heartfelt and touching, “Seeds,” a country/Americana flavored track about interrupting generational cycles of pain and trauma and refusing to reap the seeds someone else may have sown in your heart and mind.
It’s quite the collection of music, and, as we say every week: You Gotta Hear This!
Bibelhauser Brothers, “One Tin Soldier” (Featuring Sam Bush)
Artist:Bibelhauser Brothers Hometown: Louisville, Kentucky Song: “One Tin Soldier” featuring Sam Bush Album:Down The Road Release Date: May 15, 2025 (single) Label: Common Loon Records
In Their Words: “Our latest collaborative effort, ‘One Tin Soldier,’ marks the first studio version of the familiar song that features Sam Bush singing and playing mandolin. The Father of Newgrass jumped right in as an honorary Bibelhauser Brother on this fourth single from our forthcoming album, Down The Road, slated for release this October. (I actually had a candid, nearly hour-long conversation with Sam on video to chat about the track – check that out here.) With his help, we’ve made an honest attempt to frame this song as a missing link in ‘newgrass’ history, connecting the dots between some larger-than-life personalities quintessential to the evolution of the bluegrass world. Much like many of our heroes, we’d like to keep the traditional torch burning bright, while igniting our own flame, fusing elements of blues, country-rock, and soul with our primordial bluegrass sensibilities.” – Aaron Bibelhauser
Track Credits: Sam Bush – Mandolin, vocal Adam Bibelhauser – Vocal, bass Aaron Bibelhauser – Vocal, guitar Steve Cooley – Banjo Jeff Guernsey – Fiddle
Danny Burns, “Brother Wind” (Featuring Dan Tyminski)
Artist:Danny Burns Hometown: Donegal, Ireland Song: “Brother Wind” featuring Dan Tyminski Album:Southern Sky Release Date: May 16, 2025 (single); August 22, 2025 (album) Label: Bonfire Recording Co.
In Their Words: “I first discovered ‘Brother Wind’ on the Transatlantic Sessions on BBC many moons ago. I’ve had the great pleasure of knowing Tim O’Brien and working with him — he was one of my very first collaborators in Nashville when we cut a few songs at John Prine and Ferg’s Butcher Shoppe [studio]. I asked him about ‘Brother Wind’ and he said, ‘Yeah, you should cut it.’ So, we did — tried to stay true to his original version while adding something new. Having Dan T. come in and sing on it brought it to another level of cool.” – Danny Burns
Track Credits: Danny Burns – Vocals, guitars Dan Tyminski – Vocals Ethan Burkhardt – Upright bass Billy Contreras – Fiddle Matt Menefee – Banjo, mandolin Cody Kilby – Guitars Jerry Roe – Drums
Video Credit: Shot by Ryan Kay at the Station Inn, Nashville, Tennessee.
Nick Dumas, “Where Have You Been”
Artist:Nick Dumas Hometown: Sturgeon Bay, Wisconsin Song: “Where Have You Been” Album:Where Have You Been Release Date: May 16, 2025 Label: Skyline Records
In Their Words: “Everyone has been in that place – where someone close to you just isn’t there like they used to be, even if they haven’t gone anywhere. This song really struck me because of how real and universal that feeling is. And when Jim Van Cleve came in to mix it, he completely brought out the emotional tension in a way that blew me away. There’s this haunting, almost cinematic atmosphere that he created in the mix – it’s ominous, raw, and it elevates the story in a way that made me hear the song differently. It gave the whole track this weight, like you’re walking through fog trying to find someone.” – Nick Dumas
Artist:East Nash Grass Hometown: Madison, Tennessee Song: “Followin’ You” Album:All God’s Children Release Date: May 13, 2025 (single); August 22, 2025 (album) Label: Mountain Fever
In Their Words: “East Nash Grass was touring Ireland the first time I heard the demo recording of ‘Followin’ You,’ which I was told that our guitar player, James Kee, and our good songwriting pal and fiddler, Christian Ward, had written for me to sing on our upcoming record, All God’s Children. We were on the way to our next gig, driving through scenery too incredible to describe, and I was enchanted by an iPhone recording of Christian playing the guitar and singing this new song. The chorus is simple: following you. That’s all. And right there, in the beauty of simplicity, I understood that we had all been brought together to make this music to share, not because someone told us to or because of any hidden agenda; but purely because there was no other option for us.” – Maddie Denton
Track Credits: Harry Clark – Mandolin James Kee – Guitar Jeff Partin – Bass Maddie Denton – Fiddle Cory Walker – Banjo Gaven Largent – Dobro
JOSEPH, “Bye and Bye”
Artist:JOSEPH Hometown: Portland, Oregon Song: “Bye and Bye” Release Date: May 16, 2025 Label: Nettwerk Music Group
In Their Words: “This song is about being a woman in her late thirties with none of the results she expected from the plans she made – no husband, no house, no kids, no religion. The start of the song came one night when I was getting dinner with my then-girlfriend Talia at a bar called the Bye and Bye on Alberta St. in Portland. Our sister Allie had just quit the band, I was about a year past my divorce, I had a hunch the relationship I was in couldn’t keep going in its current form. I told Talia, ‘I feel like, in a way, I just died. Like everything I am – every bit of identity I’ve had – is over.’ I started crying in the way that isn’t tidy so I ran to the bathroom and let the tears rip. It had been a rough few days and as I sat on the toilet lid bawling I opened my notes app and typed ‘Crying in the bathroom of the Bye and Bye/ Saturday’s mascara in my eye/ it’s Tuesday.’” — Natalie Closner
Artist:Deanie Richardson & Kimber Ludiker Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee; Silver Spring, Maryland Song: “Cacklin’ Hen” Release Date: May 16, 2025 Label: Mountain Home Music Company
In Their Words: “I’ve been a Kimber Ludiker fan for many, many years now since I heard her play at the Grand Master’s Fiddler contest. I was a judge that year and she completely blew me away. I think Kimber is one of the most tasteful, versatile fiddlers that we have in bluegrass music today and the work she’s done with Della Mae speaks volumes for her integrity and her talent. Kimber and I have been talking about doing a twin fiddle record for at least three years now and we’re so glad that we found a home and so glad that we found a place to record this record. Mountain Home has been so generous and good to me and allowed Kimber and I the space to come record this twin fiddle record. And we took it back-old school — just twin fiddles through the whole thing and we’re super excited for you guys to hear some fun music.” – Deanie Richardson
“Deanie Richardson has long been one of my favorite fiddlers and has always been my favorite to play with. We’ve been dreaming about a twin fiddle record for years and Mountain Home is the perfect label to share our excitement and vision. With our bands Della Mae and Sister Sadie, we’ve both had a long commitment to showcase and create a platform for women in this music, and we’re excited to add our fiddling to the canon of tunes in our music. I especially hope young girls will be excited to have more and more recordings of instrumentals played by women to inspire their learning.” – Kimber Ludiker
Artist:The Wildmans Hometown: Floyd, Virginia Song: “Autumn 1941” Album:Longtime Friend Release Date: July 11, 2025 Label: New West Records
In Their Words: “‘Autumn 1941’ is a song Roger Brown, former Berklee College of Music President, co-wrote with Berklee songwriting professor Mark Simos. Mark has written for Alison Krauss, the Infamous Stringdusters, and Del McCoury. Del recently released the other song in this series titled ‘Working for the WPA.’ The ‘Autumn 1941’ story hails from Roger’s North Carolina Appalachian roots, it was passed down through his family and while some of the specifics remain unknown, different versions of this story of eugenics prove to be true across Appalachian regions and more largely other minorities throughout American early-mid 20th century history. Stories of this same movement took place in Virginia and communities like Floyd, our hometown. Once we got into the studio with this song, it just flowed and out of it came a haunting authenticity we hadn’t yet discovered in our music.” – The Wildmans
Jessica Willis Fisher, “Seeds”
Artist:Jessica Willis Fisher Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee Song: “Seeds” Album:Blooming Release Date: May 16, 2025 Label: Bard Craft Records
In Their Words: “When we’re young, much of our life is shaped in ways we can’t control. Seeds are planted in our life and when we grow up, we can be left reaping the effects of toxic generational patterns. A big part of my life the last few years has been weeding out so many beliefs and habits that, if left to continue to grow, would choke me to death in many ways. Some days are harder than others and I still have doubts that rise up about which way to go in life, how to best move forward, how to heal from the abuse I experienced when I was younger.
“That vulnerability and honesty felt important to include on this record which centers around healing and growth.” – Jessica Willis Fisher
Just as spring began its soft awakening here in the Northeast, Mark Erelli breathed new life into his vast catalog with the release of Live in Rockport: Mark Erelli & His String Quintet. As if his 13 solo albums, three bluegrass albums, and a considerable list of collaborations weren’t extensive enough, Erelli’s newest album forages entirely novel innovations.
With the help of longtime collaborator Zachariah Hickman (bass, vocals, arrangements), Erelli dispenses a selection of nine songs from throughout his decades-long vault of material with an imaginative twist – each has been delicately rearranged for Erelli, his guitar, and a string quintet. Recorded live in the sonically apt Shalin Liu Performance Center of Rockport, Massachusetts, the painstakingly intricate layers of strings weave a dynamic backdrop for Erelli’s potent songsmanship.
Cinematic and profound, the resulting tracklist examines these illustrious songs through new textures and colors. With deep attunement to both past iterations and new arrangements, listeners are struck by the simultaneously transient and perpetual nature of a good song.
BGS had the pleasure of chatting with Mark Erelli about the musings and process behind his newest creation.
So tell me about what the inception of this project was like – what propelled you to make a live album with a string quintet?
Mark Erelli: I’ve wanted to make a live record for years. And the question for any artist is always, “When do you do it?” If you do it too early in your career, you don’t maybe have as much experience performing live and you’re maybe not at the height of your powers. Yet, if you do it when it’s been a long time between records, it can seem almost like an afterthought. So I’ve always wanted to do it, but I’ve really struggled with the “when” of it. And then I’ve also grappled with what the format should be, because I perform in a lot of different formats, but I think my native performance format is still as a solo acoustic singer-songwriter.
I’ve thought about doing that live since I don’t have any records where it’s just me and my guitar. I’ve actually tried to professionally record live shows, but I never really captured a show that felt magical, and that’s the thing about live performance, right? It’s such an ephemeral thing, that’s the beauty of it, and that’s the frustrating thing if you’re trying to capture it. As I got further and further in my career, I realized I didn’t want to do the kind of live record that is just a snapshot of me on a normal night. I decided if I was going to do it, I wanted to make something really special and I wanted it to be a classic moment that really transforms how you think about an artist.
One of my favorite live albums is At Fillmore East by the Allman Brothers Band – it’s a high bar to measure yourself against, but I really wanted a live album that showcased my work in a new light. That’s where the string quintet came in. I had worked with strings on my most recent three records or so and I started working with strings on my covers record in 2018 called Mixtape. Strings are such a novel, fun, really amazing element to be able to work with – they’re quite the extra color to paint with, but I always had used them in the context of a band performance, tracking the strings after to support and augment the band.
I started wondering, what would it sound like if the strings just were the band? I got the chance to figure this out when I re-released my debut record on its 25th anniversary and I re-recorded one of the songs with a string quintet. That’s when I realized, “Oh yeah, this is gonna work out great, we’ve got to find a way to document this.” We made the live record shortly thereafter.
What do you think changes about the music and the material when you intentionalize the context and the sound like this?
Strings are really unique in that they can support a very wide dynamic range. For example, if you’re playing with a rock band, it’s pretty easy to get and you can only really get so quiet. The drums can only be so quiet. Electric guitars can only be so quiet. But the strings can get as loud and as percussive as stirring as a rock band. There’s this extra part of the dynamic range at the lower end of the spectrum, at the quieter end, that is not really accessible in any other kind of band format. String players are really adept at playing very quietly, because sometimes they have to provide atmosphere and/or introduce tension. But then other times they have to have this totally, totally aggressive, intense kind of energy, like with Psycho. What I love about the string quintet is that they just let me keep the full dynamic range of my music on the table, as far as what kind of songs I can play and how I deliver them, meanwhile I don’t have to sing over a drum kit.
Could you talk a little bit more about that process of arranging with the quintet? And I’m also curious about song selection – what it was like picking and choosing which songs you’d arrange?
I mean, I can’t speak specifically to the arrangement process, because that is pretty much entirely the purview of Zachariah Hickman, who wrote all the arrangements. I’ve worked with Zach basically on every project I’ve done since 2008 in some capacity. He’s produced a lot of them. We do a lot of projects and side projects together, which is to say that we’ve built up almost 20 years of really intense, deep trust. Zach is a far more trained musician than I am and he just always knows what I want to hear or what I’m trying to strive for, even if I can’t quite verbalize it. And he wrote these string parts accordingly.
As far as which songs to do, I think some songs have a more cinematic quality to them for whatever reason, whether it’s the sweep of the imagery and lyrics or the interaction between tempo of the song and the chord changes. Some chord progressions just feel more majestic. Anytime there’s majesty and a big sweep of emotion involved, the strings are a no-brainer. The bigger challenge is to present the strings within the kind of fuller spectrum of what I can do. I didn’t want to just do a whole live record of ballads. I wanted some songs to be able to rock, and I wanted to show that the strings can rock too. “Is it Enough” and “Love Wins in the Long Run” are two songs I specifically commissioned for this record to have some rockers with strings, not just these beautiful ballads. As far as which songs to add strings to from my catalog, I feel like I’m not even done with this yet. I want more.
Yes, same here! What was it like practicing with the strings for this performance?
It’s interesting – when you have a rock band, the parts aren’t always necessarily written out. There might be specific hooks or chord changes that have to happen, but there’s a lot more freedom for improvisation in the performance. You just kind of play the songs together a few times, then you go out and you play them in front of people, and you see what happens. Oftentimes it’s very different with strings. All their parts are written out, so I’m the thing that changes every time. Zach’s bass parts are not written out either, so the two of us can kind of move together as a dynamic unit. If I move to sing something a certain way, or phrase something with a particular feel, he can match my feel and translate between what I’m doing and what the rest of the quintet is doing.
But for the most part, the form is set. If I don’t play the basic structure as their charts are written out, they’re lost and then it comes off the rails. But within the form, there’s a lot of freedom for me to phrase things a certain way. I can phrase behind the beat I can push my phrasing a little bit against how they’re voicing their parts. That’s where I think a lot of the best art comes from. Having complete freedom to create and improvise, unless you’re working with the highest, highest caliber of musicians, is just really tough. Having no rules and no parameters – it’s really hard to make that compelling, unless you’re a band of virtuosos.
To me, it’s the constraints that really let you play around with the other factors. Maybe that’s the scientist in me talking. Everything can change. Something has to stay the same. In the case of these string quintet shows, the structure of the song is the same every time, but the way that you color in those lines – there’s almost endless variations to play with.
I’m curious how your relationship to these songs has evolved throughout the years and then specifically within the creation of this record. How will this process inspire your artistry moving forward?
The first song on Live in Rockport is the last song from my most recent studio record. Then towards the end of the live record is the song “Northern Star,” which is from my debut that I re-recorded 25 years later. So there’s a huge spread there. It tends to be mostly focused on stuff from the last 10 years or so, but having that early song there has helped me see more of a through line within my body of work that I previously was less aware of.
I think of my catalog as falling into either side of a particular line, and that line being parenthood—or at least when I started to really think seriously about becoming a parent. The art that I made before I was a parent, or before I started considering it, that all feels sort of separate from the art I make now. Sometimes it’s been hard for me to relate to the kid that made that work and the kind of man that I am now that’s been changed in so many ways by all that new love in my life – not just marriage, but family. So to reach back across that dividing line and to take a song like “Northern Star” and treat it the same way that we’re treating some of these newer songs and have it come alive so vibrantly really made me think, “Okay, well maybe that was the same person all along.”
I was just growing all along. So in some strange way, the strings have helped me kind of reconnect with some of my earlier material when I would have never thought to even dream of having a string quintet on my records – I wouldn’t have had any idea how to do that. And if you’d asked me if the songs would support it or if it was appropriate for the songs, I would have said, “I don’t think so. “Hearing all the songs side by side like this from such a long period of time has made me connect with the fact that maybe I’ve always been the same kind of artist that I am now and it just took me a while to grow into that realization.
I think when the audience is hearing me with the strings, it can be pretty revelatory – they’re really learning new things about me as an artist. And when I’m on stage performing with the strings, I’m learning new things about myself in real time, too. To me, that’s the beautiful thing that made working with the strings just so amazing – it really was a growth opportunity all around, just like anytime you do something that affords you a new perspective, or a new appreciation of a particular dimension of what you do. You just can’t help but be a better artist on the other side of that. I have a lot to be grateful for, as far as the different configurations that I’ve been able to work with. And this, right now – this is one of my absolute favorites.
More than eight years since the February 2017 release of their acclaimed debut album See You Around, Aoife O’Donovan, Sarah Jarosz, and Sara Watkins have come back together with an abundance of history, both individual and shared, on which to reflect as they began to craft I’m With Her‘s second full length album, Wild and Clear and Blue.
The three multi-instrumentalists and songwriters are beloved in folk and bluegrass circles and known cumulatively for a treasure trove of work as solo artists, in ensembles, and as co-writers and producers. Internationally renowned live performers, they were most recently celebrated under their collaborative moniker as part of the 62nd GRAMMY Awards, when their original single, “Call My Name,” was awarded Best American Roots Song. This accolade alone showed just how creatively in sync these women continued to be, even as time marched forward and each turned their focuses toward individual projects and significant personal life changes – marriage, next generations, moving homes, passing on of family – all while discerning unique perspectives about the broader transformations of society around them.
Once they felt the spark to start a second album, finally reuniting in 2024 to write and record, the embers of Wild and Clear and Blue grew not only from Watkins, Jarosz and O’Donovan’s pool of collectively evolved musicianship and artistry, but from their sharing of experiences and emotions as they cheered each other on from afar. The candid nature of the trio fully reuniting opened new paths of empathy and resonance between them – paths which go beyond their stunning musical chemistry and into a deeper space of what Jarosz earnestly calls “chosen family.” The songs tell assorted stories, nodding to the familial bonds and identities the three women hold dear in their respective lives but as a unified album, Wild and Clear and Blue is also an eloquent expression of the profound appreciation O’Donovan, Jarosz, and Watkins have for each other, as well as for the support and understanding they have realized and embraced in their ever-evolving bond.
Continuing our Artist of the Month coverage, O’Donovan, Jarosz, and Watkins spoke with BGS about the organic spirit of creativity built into Wild and Clear and Blue, how the preciousness of different relationships in their lives is embodied in the music, the one-of-a-kind nuances that make the experience of listening to the album especially distinct, and more.
You mention the album providing a focus on “connecting with your past and figuring out what you want for your future.” How did each of you decide what parts of your past you felt most inclined to explore and what feels most important to you going into the future?
Sara Watkins: When we came together to write the album, there was a time of just reconnecting. We haven’t seen each other or really been with each other for a couple of years and we wanted to reconnect in a way, [asking ourselves] “Who are we now?” You know, now that we’ve all gone through so much since our last record. A lot of things that we were talking about and processing in our personal lives were overlapping with each other and so it felt clear to us. The things that came up in the songwriting process all felt like it was self evident that that’s what we wanted, or desired, to share and to mine [through] a little bit.
And so it’s less of an abstract strategy of, “I’m going to share this about myself. I’m going to open up this chapter of my life for this album,” and more like, “What’s coming to the surface right now that’s affecting me and that I’m sorting through?” We found that a lot of what we were sorting through overlapped or that we related to each other, and that was the stuff that we ended up writing about.
You express that there’s an “ease to letting go when something isn’t working.” What does it look like when things are “working,” versus when something doesn’t fit and you collectively decide to move on?
Aoife O’Donovan: I think when we’re in the writing room, it’s always such an exciting moment when something starts to click and we start jamming on it and we start figuring out the groove and figuring out the melody. Then we’ll maybe get into a vibe [where] we’ll all kind of put our heads down on our laptops and be typing out words and be like, “Okay, let me try something.” When you sort of bring a line or change your melody note here, or add a harmony part, or it says this – it’s an exciting sort of burst. It’s like the champagne bottle pops and you’re like, “Okay, yes! Let’s keep going, let’s keep going!” It really fuels the next thing. And I think that with this trio, one of my favorite things to do is write music with Sarah and Sara. It doesn’t feel like a chore in the way that sometimes writing [solo music] for me can feel like a chore. When we’re together writing, it’s almost like you get to the party and you see what’s going to happen at the party.
Sarah Jarosz: The songwriting process has always felt like an extension of the vocal arranging process in a way, because I feel like that’s how we started out before we ever tried to write together. We arranged songs together. We arranged “Crossing Muddy Waters” together and that was a really cool precursor to know how we communicate with each other with a pre-existing song. Then that sort of carried over into the songwriting process to be this amazing, like Aoife said, light bulb movement. When it’s flowing, it’s just flowing so well and things that don’t work are just sort of easily falling aside. It’s really special. We’ve all worked with a lot of other people, so I think we all know how rare that is when it does just flow.
The way you all talk about the dynamic of working with each other has this very uplifting, very, “it’ll all work itself out in the end,” kind of mentality, which I think speaks a lot to your collective experience with each other.
SJ: Just to add to that, the three of us, I think, have pretty similar work ethics. It’s not just, “Oh, well, this is all free and easy and breezy.” I think part of the reason that it feels easy is that we put a similar amount of effort into it. Really showing up for each other, energetically giving each other the attention and the love. A lot of these songs start out as conversations, like Sara said, just that shared energy.
SW: I think it’s important to note that, yes, it’s magic and it works. We are so compatible. But part of that work ethic that Jarosz was talking about is staying at the table and not giving up on something completely. Maybe putting something aside and coming back to it later while you work on something else.
I love working with with these two who, if something’s not right, if any one of us isn’t completely excited about something or feels confused about the direction of a song or lyric, we all are very willing to stay at the table until things come together, until we’re all happy, or it’s really clicking on all sides. I think working and staying with it while it’s not working is what makes those beautiful moments [happen] when things are all yesses and when we are in flow. It shows the magic, because it doesn’t always happen but we were able to work through it in a way that’s crucial, I think, for ultimately getting something that we’re really proud of.
AO: It also gives a really unique sense of ownership over all of the material in this band, for each of us. I feel like when we finish a song and when we finish this album, we really can listen to the entire thing and be like, “Yep, I stand behind it” – at least that’s how I feel. Like, “I stand behind all the decisions, and I fully support how every single song turned out. And I really feel like this is our thing, and it’s not just one person’s thing.”
Sarah Jarosz mentions there’s something “beautiful” about having “Ancient Light” start the album, because it’s “addressing the heavier themes of the album in a way that’s more a celebration of life rather than grieving what’s been lost.” Yet,“Wild and Clear and Blue” was the first song written for the project and it establishes your shared embrace of generational connection as the inspired theme. These two songs feel like they could be fraternal twins of introductory tracks. To that end, how was the process of deciding track sequence, particularly given how it can significantly affect the trajectory of an album and how it’s received?
SW: We were at Outlier Studio, listening back to a couple of things and one of us started writing, maybe it was Jarosz, a sequence. We were passing this little paper back and forth. I still have this paper that has like, three separate sequences that we were considering as initial ideas. I think that it ended up somewhere close to what we came to, that first day of writing sequences, because it is so, so important. One thing that I really love, that I think we all really love, starting with “Ancient Light,” [it’s] a little bit more produced. It’s one of the more produced songs on the album or, it’s in the more produced half of the album. We wanted people to hear that. Going to “Wild and Clear and Blue” afterwards, it felt like we were letting people come back to a sound that felt more like the live shows we did on the last tour and more like the first album. It was a nice way of connecting the projects, I think. But we really wanted to have an arc, in terms of the content, and to consider all those things that then make an album feel more like a unit than a series of segmented songs.
SJ: I feel like sometimes making records, I have a sense much earlier on of what should be where, but I feel like this one it took until that last day or so to have this feeling of the arc. But, with that being said, I feel like a lot of us were saying, “Oh, ‘Ancient Light,’ it’s kind of an obvious opener for setting the stage.”
AO: I think also the opening lyric of “Ancient Light,” to me, is the biggest reason why I love that the song opens the record. “Better get out of the way/ Gonna figure out what I’m gonna say/ It’s been a long time coming…” – I just love that idea, that it has been seven years since our last record. Maybe it’s too on the nose, but I think it’s a great opening to bring people in, to sort of invite people back into our world.
You talk about a sense of unspoken synergy but conversely, how much would you say you lean into individual qualities of your writing that make each of your styles memorable?
SJ: I’m not sure that there’s a whole lot of conscious effort going into thinking, “How would each of us represent our own style?” I think that just largely happens naturally. At the end of the day, we’re trying to incorporate musical and lyrical decisions that make us stoked, that get us excited.
When we’re writing, it’s just the three of us. So I think we’re trying to utilize musical tools. That sounds really sterile, but [we’re trying] to make it interesting within the confines of just three people. And then, kind of figuring out, “How do you make a song come alive?”
This album totally feels so, so deeply visual. I feel like we were more tapped into that with this record than with the first. Utilizing those [visual ideas] in a way throughout the songwriting process that make us have a chill moment or maybe a moment where you’re moved to tears, or just doing the thing that gets you excited about the song.
Family, motherhood, and sisterhood make up prominent undercurrents of the album, but especially the latter. As you’ve formed these different bonds and have related to one another in these different ways over the years, how have these identities impacted your shared experience as a group, especially while working on Wild and Clear and Blue?
AO: Two of us are mothers and Sarah Jarosz is not a mother at this point in her life, but I think what’s been really beautiful about this record and about the themes that you brought up – the themes of sisterhood, motherhood, and the themes of being an only daughter – something that I’ve loved to point out to people is that Sarah Jarosz is an only daughter and Sara Watkins and I both have only daughters. When I was listening to this album for the first time with my daughter Ivy Jo, she was listening to it and when the song “Only Daughter” came on she said, “Mommy, is this about me?” It makes me almost cry, retelling that story, because in many ways, yes, it’s this universal experience that our daughters share with our dear friend and bandmate as an only daughter and I love that sort of circle of being.
We’re at different points in our lives within this band. Over the last several years, there’s been a lot of things that we’ve experienced – like huge life events since our last album came out. I lost my father. Sarah Jarosz got married. There have been many big moments that we’ve walked through alongside one another and I think those experiences have definitely shaped who we are, who we were when we went into the studio, and who we continue to be.
SJ: As this band has evolved and grown, those kind of shared family moments have absolutely drawn us closer as a band and allowed the music to reach this deeper level. I think one of my favorite memories as a band was actually in 2018 at Telluride, when all of our families were there. I think it was the only time when everyone was in the same place. Just getting on stage and seeing my parents, all of our parents and children, it was incredibly special and kind of rare. I feel like it has inevitably affected the music in a truly beautiful and full circle way.
In “Sisters of the Night Watch,” the verses mention things about personal sinfulness, being forced to crawl in the mud on your knees, and running into ghosts, with respite from all these things only being found in sisterhood. What inspired these particular images and personal trials?
SW: A lot of this song is about getting through the wilderness that is life and finding your respite, finding your people, or your place – even if it’s not a final destination and just along the way. I think that could take any form in someone’s life. But it does feel sometimes like we’re crawling through the mud in life, making very little progress, like everything is just wilderness around you, and you’re trying to make sense of it all. I think we’ve all felt like that at various times and are just looking for a moment or a day, where you feel safe. It could just be emotionally safe or it might just be some rest – just a break from feeling like everything is hard. I think it’s trying to find those people and trying to find that thing that makes you feel like you can rest for a little bit and you’ll be okay.
SJ: This also feels slightly related to “Only Daughter” in a way, at least for me, this idea of “Sisters of the Night Watch” that was sort of emerging in the writing process. For me, I am an only child and daughter and this band is the closest thing I’ve felt to having sisters, something we talked about a lot. I believe Aoife’s beautiful statement about our shared deep connection with our families is so amazing in this band. But also, your chosen family, as you go through life and who you walk and processes and choose to do life with, I feel like we’re this band of sisters, but then it can be so much more than that as well.
Much the same way you connected with particular artists and songs that your families shared with you in the past, what do you hope that younger generations and generations yet-to-come will connect with through this album?
AO: I hope that people will listen to Wild and Clear and Blue and be able to see themselves in these songs. This album is such a journey – I hate to use the word because it’s so overused – but it really is. There are so many songs, even when you guys are talking about the lyrics of “Sisters of the Night Watch” and crawling through the dried out river on your knees, that song is a journey. It’s one character on that journey. “Find My Way to You” is maybe a different character on the same on the same journey, but maybe experiencing it from a different perspective. Even in “Ancient Light,” you’re trying to get to that clearing and you’re trying to say that when you get there, you’re not going to put up a fight.
It’s sort of like, what is the end goal here? I think that listening to that, people who are young, old, people who are yet to come, I hope that this album does stand the test of time and that people can pick it up in an apocalyptic world, put it on, and be able to relate to it.
Find more of our Artist of the Month content on I’m With Her here.
Our second round-up of new music and premieres for the month of May is here already!
Starting us off, California bluegrass outfit AJ Lee & Blue Summit have dropped a new track, their excellent cover of a Gillian Welch classic, “Tear My Stillhouse Down,” with Lindsay Lou joining in on harmonies. Kyle Ray takes us to the beautiful, contemplative riverbanks in Kentucky with an early listen to his ripping bluegrass-y track, “River Song,” which will arrive right in time for wading season.
For a bit of old-time, the Lonesome Ace Stringband have a delightfully quirky tune, “Carpet Beetle,” with a funky visualizer video to match. Danceable, poppy, and soulful, it’s old-time that’s modern and timeless, both. Plus, you can catch a music video for “Hikikomori,” a song about emotions and isolation from country/neo-folk phenomenon Jack Van Cleaf’s new album, JVC, which is out today.
It’s all right here on BGS! You know what you gotta do? You Gotta Hear This.
AJ Lee & Blue Summit, “Tear My Stillhouse Down”
Artist:AJ Lee & Blue Summit Hometown: Santa Cruz, California Song: “Tear My Stillhouse Down” Release Date: May 9, 2025 Label: Signature Sounds
In Their Words: “My mom showed this song to me when I was really young and I’ve loved it ever since. I’m a lifelong fan of Gillian Welch and this has always been one of my favorite songs of hers. We’ve covered this song for years in the band and have found that audiences from coast to coast love it when we play it live. It’s a popular jam song in the campgrounds at our favorite festivals. I think of this song as Appalachian rock and roll!” – AJ Lee
“Gillian adds to the best of authentic stories from history with this song. Country music, traditional American music, bluegrass, folk – it all pulls from and sings about every real aspect of life. Death, addiction, love, poverty, fun, murder. This song is about falling prey to a cycle of creation, consumption, and distribution of a potent poison that you know only really has one way of ending. Popcorn Sutton would love this one, without a doubt.” – Scott Gates
Track Credits: AJ Lee – Mandolin, vocals Lindsay Lou – vocals Scott Gates – Guitar, vocals Jan Purat – Fiddle, vocals Sully Tuttle – Guitar, vocals Sean Newman – Bass, vocals
In Their Words: “John and I wrote this tune last year. I showed up with a two-part tune that was sort of like the A/B of ‘Carpet Beetle,’ but was way more note-y and pretty. Once we started playing it, it felt too ‘precious,’ at least for the mood we were in that day. We deconstructed the melody significantly, removing about half the notes in the A part, and added a bit of ugly drama. We did the same with the B part, but left the ‘prettiness’ of the melody intact. Then, we came up with a really evil chord progression for the C part. Soon, we were in paradise. Someone told us that the A part makes you feel icky, the B part makes you want to dance, and the C part makes you want to break things – I tried to reflect that in the video. We were thrilled to have Alan Mackie (bass) on this session and you can see real footage of us all recording the track live in the studio at the end of the video. The title comes from a household pest that John and I were both struggling with at the time of the composition, but that we now have under control.” – Chris Coole
Track Credits: Chris Coole – Banjo John Showman – Fiddle Alan Mackie – Bass
Video Credit: Editing by Chris Coole
Kyle Ray, “River Song”
Artist:Kyle Ray Hometown: Barren County, Kentucky Song: “River Song” Release Date: May 16, 2025
In Their Words: “‘River Song’ came to me in a quiet moment of reflection – looking back on my life, looking ahead, and doing my best to find peace in the present. Anyone who grew up in the South knows there’s always that one place you go to think. For me, it was the river. I tried to capture those thoughts and emotions in this song – what it felt like to sit by the water, surrounded by silence, and make peace with everything in my life. Just me, that river, and the Lord.” – Kyle Ray
Track Credits: Kyle Ray – Lead vocals, songwriter Alan Hester – Background vocals, producer Malcolm Lyon – Banjo Simon Holden-Schrock – Mandolin
Jack Van Cleaf, “Hikikomori”
Artist:Jack Van Cleaf Hometown: Encinitas, California Song: “Hikikomori” Album:JVC Release Date: May 9, 2025 Label: Dualtone Records
In Their Words: “I first came across the word ‘Hikikomori’ on a visit to my mom’s house. She had something called ‘The Box of Emotions,’ a deck of cards featuring colorful, abstract images alongside definitions of obscure emotional states. ‘Hikikomori,’ written on a black card, described a particular kind of social isolation that felt consistent with the depressive slump I had fallen into after graduating from college, which is what a lot of the record was born out of.” – Jack Van Cleaf
Track Credits: Jack Van Cleaf – Lead vocals, songwriter Aaron Krak – Drums Shaker Hunt Pennington – Bass Ethan Fortenberry – Acoustic guitar, baritone guitars, electric guitar Austin Burns – Electric guitar Annika Bennett – Background vocals
Video Credit: Directed by Joey Brodnax.
Photo Credit: AJ Lee & Blue Summit by Trinity Maxon; Jack Van Cleaf by Joseph Wasilewski.
SaraWatkins joins BasicFolk to talk about Wild and Clear and Blue, the new album from I’m With Her, her band with Sarah Jarosz and Aoife O’Donovan. The new LP was inspired by looking back on your life in order to move forward, with a very witchy manner of speaking that encompasses the ancient, mysterious, and spiritual. Sara shares insights into the unique telepathic connection they feel within the band, which was palpable from their first public appearance in 2014. Watkins is at it again with her incredible vocal performances on this album, bringing to mind Fiona Apple – especially on the “Sisters of the Night Watch.”
A longtime Angeleno, Sara gets into the meaning of another song, “Standing on the Fault Line,” which finds her reconsidering what’s safe, what’s permanent, and what is essential in order to remain in California. She also explains how the group’s tight-knit sisterhood and collaborative efforts have strengthened over the years. Elsewhere, we talk about the meaning of a “supergroup” versus a cohesive band, artistic processes, and how personal history and motherhood have impacted their music. Additionally, we explore the challenges of balancing life on tour, the importance of small talk, the necessity of doing music as a hobby for personal fulfillment, and the massive annual band party that inspired “Year After Year.”
Do you remember the human being you were in 2017? When the “first” North American total solar eclipse of the 2000s criss-crossed the United States, stunning millions of sky-gazers? Do you remember how dissimilar life felt then? When you look back, do your memories contain the same person you are now, or is there a vast difference between who you were then and who you are today?
In 2017, I’m With Her – an iconic assemblage of award winning roots musicians Sarah Jarosz, Aoife O’Donovan, and Sara Watkins – were already a band, but a tangible group identity had yet to fully coalesce – and external viewers, listeners or fans or industry professionals, couldn’t tell if this was a temporary “supergroup” or something greater and long-lasting. Yes, they first collaborated as a trio in 2014 at Telluride Bluegrass Festival and their chemistry, musically and otherwise, was immediately palpable. They wrote, toured, and released music together in 2015, 2016, and 2017, appearing on Prairie Home Companion, Live From Here, and festival and venue stages all across the country and around the world. “Crossing Muddy Waters,” a John Hiatt cover and their first release together under the “I’m With Her” moniker, was released in ’15; “Little Lies” followed in ’17. Then, their acoustic cover of Adele’s “Send My Love (To Your New Lover)” performed live with Paul Kowert on tour with Punch Brothers became a smash viral hit later that same year, barely a month after the moon then blocked out the sun.
By all measures, I’m With Her were a very different group 8 to 10 years ago. Neither Watkins nor O’Donovan were yet mothers. The trio had not yet been nominated for a GRAMMY (“Call My Name” would snag a gramophone for Best American Roots Song in 2020). They wouldn’t put out their debut album, See You Around, until 2018. Yet today, on the precipice of what is somehow only their sophomore album, Wild and Clear and Blue (out May 9 on Rounder Records), whether deliberately looking back or relying solely on one’s memories and recollections, it might seem like I’m With Her has always had this outsized presence and impact in bluegrass, folk, and Americana.
Auspiciously, the celestial and grounded, fantastic and natural Wild and Clear and Blue was tracked in New York State coincidentally during/under the more recent total solar eclipse of 2024. The track of that heavenly alignment almost directly crossed the studio where the trio were crafting the new album with producer Josh Kaufman (Bonny Light Horseman, the National). Leave it to the stars, the universe, and these three otherworldly musicians to convene to build yet another masterwork under such an unlikely omen as an eclipse. The results are truly magical. O’Donovan, Jarosz, and Watkins are already writers and pickers who draw heavily on the natural world, the earth, and their own bodies, hearts, and minds not only as intellectual tools, but also as biological beings to fashion their particular style of roots music. It’s difficult not to see how the ’24 eclipse – along with their journeys together over the last decade – greatly informed this new collection.
Solidarity, women uplifting women, motherhood and family, communion with the world around them, connection to nature, challenging the painful realities of our current day-to-day, and – perhaps above all – convivial, heartfelt fun run through Wild and Clear and Blue like shimmering, cosmic rays of light. Where their past releases together have been quite stark and stripped down, often utilizing only as many voices and instruments as the trio themselves could wield in realtime, Wild and Clear and Blue is expansive, confident, and bold. Are these the same humans who first began creating together only just over a decade ago?
Of course not. None of us are the same beings we were back then. Certainly not I’m With Her. They’re GRAMMY winners now, all three married and beginning families, O’Donovan and Watkins by now veteran moms. They’ve had multiple eras together as a band and multiple solo releases unto themselves, individually, too in the meantime. The miles have sped away underneath their feet as they code switch between being an ensemble and being individual artists – while racking up accolades, awards, and listeners as a collective and separately, too. They’re seen alongside other so-called supergroups like boygenius, Bonny Light Horseman, and more; not as novelties or accessories to the “real” artistry of their constituent work unto themselves, but as a sum greater than their parts. Rightfully so!
How lucky are we to be witnesses to that growth, to each of these women’s ceaseless commitment to challenging themselves – and their communities – to move forward, to crest that next mountain, to sculpt that as-yet-undiscovered song from shapeless musical clay? How lucky are we that these three women bathed in the ancient, timeless light of a solar eclipse and alchemized their experiences into this resplendent album?
The path of this incredible trio, unlike the planets in the sky, has been anything but linear – or concentric, or predictable. Still, there’s endless insight and so much joy to be gained from inhabiting this intersection, the confluence of so many occurrences: the trajectory of the group; the track of a total solar eclipse; the Wild and Clear and Blue writing and recording sessions; the terrifying and shocking burning of our planet; the rapid return of abject fascism in this country; the consideration of how to be artists – family members, mothers, community builders – amid all of these realities. It’s a bewildering intersection, but one we’ve all become undoubtedly familiar with since 2014… since 2016… since the sun disappeared in 2017 and 2024.
Wild and Clear and Blue is a soundtrack for togetherness. For being present. For capturing the infinitesimal moments that make life what it is. It’s no surprise I’m With Her were able to create such an awe-inspiring and heartening second album with these celestial (and terrestrial) ingredients. It’s impeccable roots music made for bathing in the ancient light, for standing at the fault line, for staring into the wild and clear and blue with courage, with love, and with songs.
And, we’ll be dipping back into the BGS archives for all things I’m With Her throughout the month of May! Each of the trio’s members have been featured as AOTM individually and/or in other groups and we have plenty of playlists, articles, interviews, and even Sitch Sessions to return to featuring their supreme talents. Buckle up for a transcendental Artist of the Month celebration.
It’s a warm, summery day in early April when I sit down with archivist, writer, and guitarist Cameron Knowler on the shores of Old Hickory Lake in Middle Tennessee. Both Knowler and myself happen to now live in Old Hickory, a small village in Davidson County that was formerly a DuPont company town and is nestled on the edges of the eponymous, manmade US Army Corps of Engineers lake on the Cumberland River.
The setting is a far cry – geographically, topographically, and ecologically – from Knowler’s hometown of Yuma, Arizona, a place that serves as the inspiration, background, and foreground of his stunning new solo guitar album, CRK (released April 4 by Worried Songs). Knowler’s upbringing in Yuma was traumatic and bleak, not exactly a storybook experience by any measure. Still, like many roots musicians and creatives, the landscapes and dioramas of the wild west California/Arizona border town have become the guitarist-composer’s primary muse.
CRK sounds like the desert. Like hot, searing parking lots. Like mesquite and cactuses and roadrunners and mesas and red rocks. Stark flatpicked and finger-plucked melodies give equal consideration and immortalization to sweeping natural landscapes and small, depressingly human settings, too. Unlike so many of his subjects and inspirations in and around Yuma, this collection of compositions never moves to pave over the intricacies, nuances, and subversions Knowler finds in revisiting his hometown in music and memories. Still, the album is as gorgeous and transportive as any of our favorite famous paintings of the Old West, or soundtracks to iconic western films, or depictions of ancient pueblos. Perhaps his subject is a strip mall or a vignette of the proverbial “suburban hell,” but in this context each feels like an entire universe unto itself, a dreamscape – a home.
CRK opens with a gorgeous prose poem set to music, a track titled “Christmas in Yuma.” Immediately, the record is thereby attached through terroir and tradition to other western artists like Steinbeck and McCarthy. The album’s package is ornamented with gorgeous photographs, polaroids, bits of imagery, printed art, and poetry, further evoking artists we associate with the Southwest like Dorothea Lange and Linda Hogan. But the stories herein are told almost exclusively by guitar – usually Knowler solo as centerpiece, but sometimes joined by ensembles including guitarists Jordan Tice (who co-produced the project) and Rich Hinman, as well as other instrumentalists like Rayna Gellert, Robert Bowlin, Jay Bellerose, and more. The guitar is an instrument so pervasive and ubiquitous we often forget how aptly it can showcase these kinds of narratives, and how at home the six-string always feels in the West.
But with CRK, listeners won’t ever forget those facts. This is a narrative album. Is it also a technical achievement, intricate and intriguing and complex? Absolutely. But making an impressive guitar album was clearly not Knowler’s goal. Telling stories, with his medium being the guitar and the traditions that encircle it, was his chief aim. To say the project is successful in this regard would be an embarrassingly trite understatement.
And so, while watching the springtime water birds and snacking on lunch – with Knowler’s neck, wrists, and fingers dripping in Native-smithed silver and turquoise – we two sat down on the banks of a long, twisting lake on the Cumberland River in Nashville to discuss the guitar, the desert, and the little town on the banks of the Colorado River called Yuma – that Cameron Knowler once, and still, calls home.
I wanted to start by talking about place. I’m obsessed with how music has been slowly but surely divorced from its relationship to place over time. Your album, what jumped out at me immediately was it has such a strong relationship to place. How do you take something physical, tangible, geographical – a place like Yuma or Old Hickory Lake – and translate that into your medium? How do you think about evoking landscape or evoking an image with music?
Cameron Knowler: That’s a great question. I have like 10 ways of responding to that. As you said, music is getting divorced from place and I think it’s something of a cliche at this point that we’re losing regionalism. In the sense that, even with bow strokes– fiddlers in Galax, Virginia are different than fiddlers in northern Virginia. Not consciously, necessarily, but just as a colloquialism. As a part of their place. I didn’t [have] an old man or an old woman playing a fiddle who taught me tunes, I never had any of that [regionalism]. Instead, the “white kid from the suburbs” phenomenon happened. When I moved to Texas, I got connected with a regional fiddler in Terlingua, Texas – kind of [where the movie], Paris, Texas started. I learned his repertoire, which was interesting in that he learned a lot from Brad Leftwich when they were young and living in Santa Barbara. That was the void that I was missing. Not even musically, just in my life. I lost my mom, I lost my dad, I didn’t have family, so to me that was a cue, like a clue.
Then it flips, because there is a robust fiddle tradition of the Tohono O’odham [Nation] right there on the Yuma, Arizona/California border. But that’s not my culture. I could have gone in and said, “I’m gonna learn this tune” – or melody or whatever. Then that [could be] my way into the landscape. Instead of coming at it from an internal perspective, it was an external perspective, basically like a western painter. Like an oil painter painting Tucson or Walpi.
To answer your question, it’s slippery, ’cause you can’t go on stage and say, “Okay, this instrumental song is about a grocery store that I grew up driving by.” [Laughs] I can’t say that. It does come from that place, but I don’t say that. For me, the visual aspects of the record, I weigh them as equally, I would say, as the sonics. I think that’s where I can insert song titles – all the song titles on the record are related to Yuma.
There’s this tradition of stark solo or nearly solo acoustic guitar as an iconic sound of “the Wild West.” One of the first things I thought about listening to CRK is the score and soundtrack for Brokeback Mountain, so much of it is just solo plucked, tender guitar. Then of course in other music that evokes the West, you have sweeping strings and countrypolitan country and western. Even in that context you’ll often hear nylon-string guitar out front, solo. There’s something about unadorned guitar that is connected to landscapes.
But what I’m hearing you say is it’s not about translating the grandeur of Western landscapes at all. It’s about the grocery store, or it’s about the building that burned down, or it’s about a stretch of miles and miles of highway.
Totally. Yes. There’s so much programmed into the sound. David Rawling says, “The sound of a minor chord is a cowboy dying,” which is such a great way of saying that.
I believe this is true of the development of the flat-top guitar in general. At a certain point in 1934 or 1933, when the dreadnoughts start to get developed, there’s something about that that conveniently carries forward the agenda of interrelated musics – like Hawaiian music and bluegrass music for two totally different agendas. Then that [sound and body style] becomes the golden standard. But there were so many other brands and makers and thinkers from different cultures making guitars that, in an alternate universe not far from our own at all, would’ve been the golden standard. I feel the same way about the tradition of the music itself, right? And a dreadnought itself can do an infinite number of things, but just the format itself excludes a lot. As a constant instrument to play solo.
Another thing that David Rawlings says about his small guitar is that the smallest things sound the biggest, when they are in their own diorama – describing what he does with Gillian [Welch]. That’s his goal, to convince listeners that the “baby dinosaur” [small guitar] can actually eat them. Working in miniature, making little boats in glass bottles, you open yourself up, it’s an entire universe. The littlest things sound the biggest. In that way, there’s opportunity in the format itself.
I think people like Norman Blake and John Steinbeck are both hyper-regionalists who synthesize very eclectic sources to create something that is uniquely their own, but also totally comes outta left field. ‘Cause yeah, you think about Norman and certain people would say he is a flatpicker. Some people would say he was a pot smoking hippie who played with John Hartford – and they’re both equally true! Tying together otherwise disparate histories is a compelling format and is rewarding to the solo practitioner, I think.
We should talk about Steinbeck. We talked about it a couple of weeks ago when we first met by chance. But you starting the album with “Christmas in Yuma,” immediately I was like, “Oh, I know where we are. I know what we’re doing.” We’re in the West, there’s poetry/prose poetry happening. That song feels like it’s part of a longstanding tradition. Immediately I was thinking about a couple of my favorite Steinbeck passages listening to that.
Starting with poetry, starting with spoken word over that beautiful sound bed that you’ve created for it, what does that accomplish for you as an opening to a record?
Two things come to mind. Kenneth Patchen, who made these poetry records for the Folkways label in the ‘50s backed by a jazz band and it was almost comical, but he took it so seriously and it’s so convincing when you just forget what the format actually is. The great Texas – I don’t even wanna say outsider artist, but in terms of how he’s viewed – outsider artist Terry Allen, with some of his concept records like Lubbock (On Everything) with the pedal steel. You can do anything at that point. That’s why I started [CRK] out that way.
Also, quite frankly, Ice Cube’s records – I’m thinking of N.W.A. – start out with these sound collages of him getting arrested or walking down a cell block, or the imagined character is. To me, he could do anything after that point. He could make the amazing record that it became, or he could have done some something entirely different. I just think it’s an earnest way of saying, “I’m not trying to do what you [already] know.” We all know that everyone is infinitely complex, but in terms of what they release, it’s fine to not be infinitely complex?
For me, it’s not a flatpicking record. It’s not a fingerpicking record. I’m really not trying to make it a guitar record, so to speak. I wanted to make it a narrative record. [“Christmas in Yuma”] was just an earnest way of saying, “I’m not what you think I might be.”
It’s also a tradition in these roots and folk music spaces to play with expectation. People generally know what a solo guitar record is gonna sound like and what it’s gonna be and what it’s gonna do. I’m imagining a program director at a radio station putting on the record and doing the 30-second listen through – and the first song is poetry?!
I think maybe that’s what you’re talking about? Whatever conscious or subconscious projection you might have about what this album is in your hand, or what this is about to be as you put it on, you want to play with that projection. You’re saying, “I’m gonna tell you what this is.”
That is a beautiful point because, not to go too far back [in my history], but I was “unschooled” and I didn’t have a high school diploma or a GED. [Through all the hardships I’ve faced], I’ve learned this notion of leveraging. I surveyed how I was going to be able to reach people, and it gets more representative of myself as [time] goes. But it’s always been under the guise of leveraging unexpected muscle groups towards something else. That’s just built into this like fight or flight thing. I just have nothing to lose.
Your point about the radio DJ – or whoever that’s listening to the poetry – I think that’s a unique opportunity. At that point, they’re suspending judgment. If I wanna listen to a guitar record, I’m gonna listen to Leo Kottke 6- and 12-String Guitar. It’s perfect. It does exactly what it needs to do.
People should continue to try to make records like that. To me, it’s not a push against that at all. It’s starting out on a different foot. You may end up in a place that, by design, is very different than you would if you just tried to hit it on the nose. You can still hit it on the nose. Then you might even have a chance to open it up to somebody. Sometimes people just don’t know who Norman Blake is. But then, there’s a tune like “Yuma Ferry.” Who plays like that? Norman plays like that. If I were to make a whole record of “Yuma Ferry”-style tunes, I think everybody listening would know that it was a Norman Blake type of thing.
Let’s talk about “Christmas in Yuma” a little more in detail, because I’m curious about how you created it. Was it the poem that made the music happen, or the music demanded to have a poem set to it? What was the creative process like for the track?
I woke up from a nap on December 21, 2021, and I just went to Google Docs and typed it out. It just came out like that. The recording process, I had my friends Harry and Dylan sit down with me in our friend Marshall’s studio and we just recorded improvisations with the loose framework. [It’s read by my friend] Jack Kilmer, who similarly grew up in the Southwest. His father, like my mother, was also Christian Scientist. Those are all the things that were vibrating around. I was like, “He has to do it.” He’s an amazing voice actor, amazing actor, and just a great musician. Very musical and a beautiful artist. I had him do it first.
Then we went to the studio and we just said, “This is how long the track is. We’re not gonna play to the track. We’re just gonna play.” There was one take that was like the perfect length of time and I just put it under there. All those sonic features that interact with the vocal are totally incidental.
The music of CRK is so evocative and so visual and is so good at text painting, but I wanted to talk about your work in other media and about how you curated the package for the album, too. You’re so multifaceted in what media you’re working in – archives, photography, visual art, written word, music, melody. How do you see all those forms converging and diverging with this project specifically? Because I see your eye for detail at every level. You can just tell from the package that the whole thing is art to you, not just the songs.
Photography, it is always fiction. That, to me, is the beauty of it. If there’s a picture of someone jumping, you don’t really know where they jumped from. Or if they smile, they are actually crying? Maybe this person crying is not the good guy. Maybe they’re the bad guy.
You can start to track things like that, as the smile gets “invented” throughout photography. But it’s this line of fiction that, if you spend enough time with it, you can infer things right or wrong in there. They can all take you to a different place. Movies are that way, but you lose a little bit with the moving image. ‘Cause then you see the speed at which they’re moving, even if the frame rate isn’t representative of reality.
But then, say you’re playing jazz standards and you’re playing things with semantic content that came from a show, a Broadway show in the ‘40s. You’re shackled by the semantic content of that. I think it’s a convenient metaphor, in my opinion, to see photography and instrumental music as this thing, where – back to working in miniature – smaller things give you more room to insert yourself into it. I shouldn’t say more room, but there’s more fiction to play with, I would argue.
There’s less to compete with.
Right? In terms of things being programmed to you. In movies, you have the aesthetics, you have the costumes, you have the music, you have all this stuff. With photo books, the way that they’re sequenced by gestures is such a fitting way of dealing with sequencing things that aren’t visual. There’s a lot of inspiration from the photo book as a tradition, in terms of sequencing. And how with photojournalism, we don’t really have an American, coalesced identity of the West without the photography of the Dust Bowl. I’ve spent a lot of time looking at FSA photographs and there’s some great Dorothea Lange photographs in Yuma from May of 1935 which can be seen via the Library of Congress. I actually licensed one of them that was not within the purview of her [federal] work from the Oakland Museum and that’s in the song folio for CRK.
Obviously, Norman Blake is a really important musician to you and Dave Rawlings is as well. You’re talking about wanting to make music, wanting to make a record that isn’t just another acoustic guitar, flatpicking, flat-top record. Norman and Dave are great examples of guitarists who make albums that aren’t just the same old same old, and aren’t just products, they’re art. Both showcase that simple solo guitar, that miniature world we’re talking about, can be so expansive and huge and lush. But who are the others? Who are the folks that modeled for you that having your own voice and perspective on your instrument was more important than just doing it to do it. Or to be “best” or to sell yourself as a product for consumption?
For banjo, I think John Hartford. I love the idea that Blake Mills said, he called guitar an instrument for assholes. [Laughs] What I love about that is, no matter how you look at a guitar, the guitar is always a toy. [Andrés] Segovia tried to institute a formal repertoire. The bluegrass people tried to, the rock people [tried to]. Is Jimi Hendrix the definitive repertoire for the guitar? AC/DC? But, it’s still a toy. It’s still marketed as a toy.
I don’t need a million people to listen to my music to make a living or to keep doing it. It’s all within the art/archives, how to make these raw ingredients that are embedded into everyone into something that’s not commercial, but digestible.
In terms of other people [who inspired me]. John Fahey. Leo Kottke, but I didn’t fingerpick up until about three and a half years ago. About 80% of the record is finger picking. To your point about the poem earlier, there’s more outside of the solo, acoustic guitar canon of stuff, too. People like Rambling Jack Elliot and Sam Shepard, yeah.
One final point, I would play these solo concerts in Texas of just flatpicking melodies, like four flatpicking melodies in four different keys. And I was just like beating my head up against a wall, trying to tell some sort of cinematic, fiddle tune-driven [story over an entire set of just flatpicking]. I wanted there to be an arc. Through stubbornness, I decided I was going to learn how to fingerpick convincingly, where I had control of each voice. It’s really hard. It was a pain in my ass to figure that shit out.
But yeah, I see them all as tools: the poetry, the flatpicking, the fingerpicking, the drumming. It could be seen as pushing back against commercialism or whatever, but in some ways it’s actually the opposite. I was like, “I want more. I want a diverse audience. I want as many people to listen to this as possible.” Not sheer numbers, but in terms of who they are and what their listening diets are. Not just everybody in the audience being someone who will already know each of those fiddle tunes.
Okay, we say it every week, but really– You Gotta Hear This! Our weekly premiere and new music roundup includes bluegrass, the blues, Americana, indie, bebop influences, and so much more.
LA’s American Mile kick us off with a music video for “Waiting on a Sunday,” which is equal parts roots rock and alt country – into Tom Petty vibes? This one’s for you! The song was inspired by a mundane gas station encounter on a silent pandemic Sunday. Singer-songwriter Meir Levine also launches “I Wish It Was Over,” an indie rock-tinged Americana track with poppy textures that considers closure, moving on, and looking ahead.
Unfortunately, two of our string bands below have the blues this week! EZRA, a talented new acoustic quartet with bluegrass roots and a stacked roster of pickers, bring us a performance video for “Basically a Blues,” where they turn a typical 12-bar blues progression inside out and upside down with acrobatic, virtuosic picking. Plus, Lonesome River Band’s new single, “Blues,” is an Adam Wright-written song featuring Rod Riley on Telecaster. That track is from their upcoming project, Telegrass, and we’re receiving the message loud and clear.
Singer-songwriter Mac Cornish covers Danny O’Keefe’s “The Road” with a deliciously retro, twangy ’70s sound that’s appropriately melancholic and full of life, too. Elsewhere in our roundup, you’ll hear Julia Sanders, who’s also inhabiting grief, sadness, and nostalgia in a video for her new single, “Star Stickers,” during which her listeners will certainly be able to picture glow-in-the-dark decorations stuck haphazardly to their childhood ceilings.
Make sure to scroll all the way to the bottom, though, as you won’t want to miss “Foxology” from Tokyo’s Thompson the Fox, an exciting newgrass quartet with an uncommon lineup: banjo, bass, drums, and xylophone. It’s fantastic music, bebop and jazz influences leading to sonic surprises around every twist and turn of the original melody. When this one arrived in our inboxes, we were immediately charmed and entranced. You will be, too.
It’s all right here on BGS and, simply– You Gotta Hear This!
American Mile, “Waiting on a Sunday”
Artist:American Mile Hometown: Los Angeles, California Song: “Waiting on a Sunday” Album:American Dream Release Date: May 2, 2025 (single); June 6, 2025 (album)
In Their Words: “When I was writing ‘Waiting on a Sunday,’ I was on a couch in Vermont. It was silent and my thoughts were the only thing around. It was 2020, in the middle of the pandemic, and I walked to the gas station up the street, ’cause nothing was coming to me in that silence. There was a lady at the gas pump trying to wrestle her kids into the car and pump gas at the same time. I thought I recognized her from high school, so I helped her pump her gas while she dealt with her kids. She told me a little bit about her life and the struggles of being a single mom; she was heading to church that morning. It all kind of flooded into my mind at that point and I wrote most of the lyrics that day. I thought to myself, ‘We’re all in a way waiting for a Sunday,’ whatever that means to us.” – Eugene Rice
Mac Cornish, “The Road”
Artist:Mac Cornish Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee Song: “The Road” Release Date: May 1, 2025
In Their Words: “‘The Road’ by Danny O’Keefe has been one of my favorite songs for years, because of Danny’s melancholic but beautiful lyrics about life on the road. Danny’s writing in general has always been important to me, but as time has passed and I’ve toured more, this song keeps resonating with me more. I started covering it with my backing band about a year ago and it quickly became a staple in our set and a favorite of our audiences. This past December we went into the studio and recorded the whole thing to tape, really trying to emulate the early ’70s sounds of this song, but also give our own spin on it. Our two acoustic guitars lay as the foundation for our version of the song. The bass and drums drive the song forward, but never distract from the delicate Travis picking. The pedal steel weeps through the whole song, emphasizing certain lyrics and complementing the vocal melody. I’m proud of my take on this ’70s classic and am excited to add my name to the list of artists who have covered this song.” – Mac Cornish
Track Credits: Mac Cornish – Acoustic guitar, vocals Bailey Warren – Acoustic guitar, backing vocals Trevor Stellflug – Pedal steel Jacob Miller – Bass Hunter Maxson – Drums
EZRA, “Basically a Blues”
Artist:EZRA Hometown: Oberlin, Ohio Song: “Basically a Blues” Album:Froggy’s Demise Release Date: May 9, 2025 Label: Adhyâropa Records
In Their Words: “‘Basically a Blues’ takes the standard chords used in a 12-bar blues and flips them upside down. All the well-known bluesy harmonies become diminished when doing this, and I found the sound to be fairly intriguing. I especially love the solos and trades that Max [Allard] and Jake [Jolliff] take over this quirky tune and have to give major kudos to Craig [Butterfield] who burns constant 8th notes for the duration.” – Jesse Jones, guitar
Track Credits: Jacob Jolliff – Mandolin Max Allard – Banjo Jesse Jones – Guitar, composer Craig Butterfield – Double bass
Meir Levine, “I Wish It Was Over”
Artist:Meir Levine Hometown: Upstate & Brooklyn, New York Song: “I Wish It Was Over” Album:Long & Lonely Highway Release Date: June 6, 2025 Label: First City Artists
In Their Words: “‘I Wish It Was Over’ came in one of those exceedingly rare moments, where I woke up one morning and the song was already fully formed in my head. The song covers a pretty simple message I think, about the things that we can’t seem to let go of, that we seek out just to feel something – even if it’s bad or harmful to us.” – Meir Levine
Track Credits: Meir Levine – Songwriter, vocals, guitars Andrew Freedman – Producer, piano, keyboards Will Graefe – Electric guitars, acoustic guitars Jeremy McDonald – Bass Mike Robinson – Pedal steel, guitars Jordan Rose – Drums
Lonesome River Band, “Blues”
Artist:Lonesome River Band Hometown: Floyd, Virginia Song: “Blues” Release Date: May 2, 2025 Label: Mountain Home Music Company
In Their Words: “We’ve all had the ‘Blues’ in our lives, but this Adam Wright song sees the ‘Blues’ in a whole different light. It’s a lighthearted break from the sad songs – one that we have a ton of fun with. Featuring our good friend Rod Riley on the Telecaster, it comes from our upcoming Telegrass project.” – Sammy Shelor
Track Credits: Sammy Shelor – Banjo, harmony vocal Jesse Smathers – Acoustic guitar, harmony vocal Mike Hartgrove – Fiddle Adam Miller – Mandolin, lead vocal Kameron Keller – Upright bass Rod Riley – Electric guitar
Julia Sanders, “Star Stickers”
Artist:Julia Sanders Hometown: Asheville, North Carolina Song: “Star Stickers” Album:Dark Matter Release Date: May 16, 2025
In Their Words: “Usually my songwriting process is the same. I start with a melody and then lyrics start to unfold as the idea of the song becomes more distilled. With this one, the chorus came lyrics, melody, and all, as I was laying in bed getting my daughter to sleep one night. I had been asking myself, ‘What am I avoiding writing about?’ and maybe more than any other theme, was my challenging and painful relationship with my own mother. My mother struggled with mental health her whole life and in her own pain, she hurt those around her. Just before I started working on this album, she was diagnosed with ALS. Her physical decline was very quick and heartbreaking. The grief was heavy, complicated, and messy. Lying in my daughter’s bed that night, watching the yellow-green glow of star stickers on the ceiling, I felt like I was time-traveling – to my own childhood bedroom, needing my mother to be different than she could be, then back to this room, trying hard to be a different kind of mother for my own children, and then to the future, where nothing is known except that none of this lasts.” – Julia Sanders
Track Credits: Julia Sanders – Vocals, songwriter John James Tourville – Guitar Steve Earnest – Baritone guitar Landon George – Bass Bryce Alberghini – Drums
Video Credit: Ashlyn McKibben
Thompson the Fox, “Foxology”
Artist:Thompson the Fox Hometown: Tokyo, Japan Song: “Foxology” Album:The Fox In Tiger’s Clothing, vol. 1: FOX Release Date: May 3, 2025 Label: Prefab Records
In Their Words: “We’re a Tokyo-based instrumental quartet with a unique lineup – xylophone, banjo, bass, and drums. Each member comes from a different musical background: Rie Koyama (xylophone) from classical music, Tomohito Yoshijima (drums) from jazz, and Akihide Teshima (bass) and I (banjo) from bluegrass.
“Writing tunes for such an unconventional instrumentation always feels like an experiment. I’ve long had the idea that the rapid melodic lines and complex syncopation of bebop would suit the xylophone and banjo. So I wrote this tune with strong influences from Charlie Parker – which is why I named it ‘Foxology.’
“It was a lot of fun coming up with the A section melody that can be played in melodic style on the banjo, so is the B section featuring a double-stop chromatic scale played on the xylophone with four mallets. We hope you enjoy our new album!” – Takumi Kodera, banjo
Patience and persistence have long been traits embodied by the music and songwriting of Kristina Murray, but with her new album, Little Blue, she can add another “P” word to the mix: perseverance.
Now a decade into her time in Nashville, Little Blue (out May 9 on New West Records) is poised to be her “ten year town” breakout moment. Through its blend of old school country twang and swampy southern R&B she ruminates on everything from the grind, pursuing her honky-tonk dream, to finding love, and the unseen burdens placed on women. She shows off her formidable knack for storytelling in the process. The project is also direct evidence of the inroads she’s made in Music City, with artists like Erin Rae, Logan Ledger, Sean Thompson, Miss Tess, Frank Rische, and John Mailander all lending a hand.
Originally from Atlanta, Murray was introduced to country as a child via a cassette of Patsy Cline’s greatest hits in her mother’s car. She eventually got her first guitar in high school, but didn’t play it anywhere outside of open mics and church camps until she moved to Colorado in the mid 2000s to pursue a degree in recreational therapy. While there, she became immersed in the regional bluegrass scene and began playing out more, slowly gaining confidence and building toward her eventual move to Nashville in 2014. While she was only in Colorado for six years, Murray still looks back on her time out west as foundational for her direction in life and the art she’s pursuing now.
“I’d never lived outside the South before and had a couple mentors of mine tell me I should give it a try for a little bit,” recalls Murray. “It was out there where I realized that being a musician is what I wanted to do with my life. Once you get bit by the playing-on-stage bug, there’s no going back. It’s so much more than just playing for people, too. It’s also being in sync with your band and performing at a high level and the energy feedback loop that can come from that.”
Since relocating to Nashville, Murray has become a linchpin of the city’s dive bar and juke joint scene, frequently popping up at places like Dee’s Country Cocktail Lounge and Bobby’s Idle Hour, and became one of the first women to front a full band at Santa’s Pub. But despite all this, she was starting to feel stuck as the pressure of things like her father’s sudden death, car wrecks, watching others have the success she’d been waiting on began to weigh her down. But in that darkness she was able to find a glimmer of light, and Little Blue was born.
Leading up to the album’s release, Good Country caught up with Murray to discuss imposter syndrome, expectations in the music business, the healing power of music, and more.
If going from open mics and church camps in Georgia to diving into Colorado’s bluegrass scene was a big step, then moving from there to Nashville must’ve felt like being on another planet. What was that transition like?
Kristina Murray: My time in Colorado was foundational in some ways. I learned the Nashville number system, how to play with a band, and how to execute a bunch of different songs really well while I was there. But, eventually, it got to being a big fish, small pond kind of thing. You can make a living out there just by playing cover songs in bars, but what I wanted was to write songs and be around people my age who were also writing the kind of songs I like, wanted to listen to, and wanted to write. Moving there was a big step because Nashville is the place where the music I love was and is still being made.
You’ve been grinding away in Nashville for a decade now as an independent musician, but this new record marks your debut with New West. How’d that partnership come about?
Southern Ambrosia [was] the first record I put out after moving to Nashville and, quite frankly, I didn’t know what I was doing. I had seen a lot of my peers kind of take off and naively I thought, “Well, this is a really good record full of great players and good writing and I’m in this kind of circle community; because all those things are true, then this record should get me to the next place that I wanted to go.”
It was actually on the radar of Normaltown and New West back in 2018, but things fizzled out because I didn’t know how to go about having conversations with business people about my music – I’d never done anything like that before. Fast forward a few years, this record was done in 2023 and by early 2024 I was talking with them again about picking it up. Their support means a lot, because it’s really difficult to get your record and your career to the places that you want to go without it.
New West and Normaltown are also based out of Athens, Georgia, and I’m from Atlanta, so it means a lot to be involved with them on that level as well. I was a huge Drive-By Truckers fan in my 20s and can’t get enough of Jaime Wyatt, Lilly Hiatt, Nikki Lane and others. There’s just a lot of people that I love and respect on that record label and I’m happy to be a part of the family.
Better late than never, I suppose! You just mentioned the feedback for Southern Ambrosia not meeting the lofty expectations you had for it. I imagine seeing friends and colleagues having success with their music – from signing with labels to getting on bigger and bigger shows to nailing down high-profile writing sessions – doesn’t help to keep the imposter syndrome at bay.
It’s funny, because during my decade in Nashville I really have seen so many people just skyrocket, and it’s all been so deserved, like Erin Rae – nobody sings or writes like her – or Sierra Ferrell, I mean who else sings like that? Logan Ledger, who also joins me on this record, is one of my favorite singers and songwriters around. During my time here there’s been so many times when I’ve thought that something must be wrong with the way I sing or write to not be getting all those opportunities for myself. But I’ve come to realize that having all that isn’t what will validate me as a musician, writer, performer, and person who simply loves this music, because at the end of the day, if I still get something out of it, shouldn’t that be enough? It’s something I’ve grappled with a lot through the years and continue to do on this album.
Speaking of expectations in the music business not always being reality and the illusion of success, are those things you’re tackling head on in the song “Watchin’ the World Pass Me By”?
What’s funny about that song is it started out as me just trying to see if I could write a basic “outlaw” country song. It obviously evolved a bit from a writing exercise parody to a commentary on getting “so tired of watching ‘em livin’ my dreams” and “daddy’s bankroll to make the rules” nepotism and suddenly being a country singer, because you threw on a cowboy hat. But I also poke a bit of fun at myself, too, with lines like “She’s just a bitter, jaded, helpless fool.”
Another tune I’ve really enjoyed is “Phenix City.” In many ways it seems like an outlier on the record, a story song amid a sea of deeply personal, autobiographical tales. With that in mind, what was your intention for including it here?
Most of this record is autobiographical or composite sketches of me and those around me, but that one specifically is a story song. It very much paints a picture of small-town circumstances in Phenix City, a small town in Alabama along the Georgia border. One time I was driving down to a gig in Columbus, Georgia, and instead of going through Atlanta I decided to head straight down from Nashville through Alabama. I rented a car because my van was out of commission, and about a half hour outside Columbus I broke down after running out of gas because I had my music so loud I couldn’t hear it beeping. I eventually got it to a mechanic shop in Phenix City where the man told me I just needed some gas, which was both a relief and a moment that made me feel like the biggest idiot around, but briefly getting stuck there did inspire the song in a roundabout way.
Similar to “Phenix City,” another outlier of sorts on Little Blue is the lead track, “You Got Me,” which seems to revolve around the early, butterflies-fueled stages of love. Mind telling me a bit about it and the mood it sets for the remainder of the project?
I’m not one for writing love songs too much. The only other real love song I have is “The Ballad Of Angel & Donnie” from Southern Ambrosia, which is another story song about a meth dealer and his girlfriend. I wrote “You Got Me” early on in my relationship with my now-partner. It’s a very true-to-life song and I knew if it was going to be about him that it had to be a really cool-sounding song. My guitarist, James Paul Mitchell, came over one night when I was writing it and helped to come up with that signature lick you hear on it right at the beginning, which I loved. I really wanted it to be like a Band song with the Clavinet sounds that they twin throughout the song. My partner, Corey [Parsons], also plays percussion on this one, which is really sweet that he got to put some of his touch on a song about him.
The song also starts with the word “and,” which came from a writing exercise after listening to Robert Johnson’s “Love in Vain.” It begins with “And I followed her to the station.” I thought it was so cool to start a song with “and,” because it’s like you’re just dropping someone into the middle of a story.
While “You Got Me” is a bright spot, a lot of this album leans more toward the somber and dark. What are your thoughts on the catharsis and healing that can come from writing through difficult times such as the ones you’re encountering here?
The album is titled Little Blue for a reason. We are remiss to forget how significant the pandemic was and how devastatingly sad that period of time in our collective human history was. A good chunk of these songs were written during that two-year period along with general ruminations about the sad and unjust world we live in that even the music industry isn’t immune from. It feels silly at times to whine and cry about the music industry when there’s so much other crazy stuff happening, but that’s the world I live in so I have to write through that.
I wouldn’t say that writing songs is cathartic for me as much as sharing in the collective. What grabs me about music is when it feels real and is relatable to me and I hope that I’ve done that here with what I’ve written about. Music is magical, so the fact that I get to do this at all is amazing and continues to drive me. I’m never not going to be amazed by music. For instance, I took a harmonica lesson the other day with Ilya Portnov, who also plays on the record. I’ve done a little bit of Bob Dylan-esque singer-songwriter harmonica, but I really wanted to understand the harp a little bit better. It’s a magical feeling when the music and notes and scale are all working together. I feel endlessly humbled by it and very proud that I get to be a small ripple in the river of music.
What did the process of bringing Little Blue to life teach you about yourself?
That I’m gonna keep doing it regardless of if it makes any sense at all. I didn’t get my record deal until after everything for this album was done, meaning that I funded it all myself. It was a lot to handle, because making records isn’t cheap, especially if you’re paying people what they deserve to get paid. I feel very lucky and grateful for all the folks that lended their talent to this record. It made me realize that the more I keep pushing ahead to more everything will begin to make sense around me. It’s a mix of perseverance and understanding that good things take time and intention. I feel really good about this record and even though it’s only my third, and first in six years, I’m glad to put it out in the world because we need art now more than ever.
Photo Credit: Schuyler Howie
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