Last week, Austin City Limits released an excellent bluegrass performance from their Austin City Limits Celebrates 50 Years broadcast, which debuted on April 4 on PBS. Mandolinist Sierra Hull and guitar phenom Billy Strings appeared on the special ACL show, performing a classic bluegrass number, “Midnight on the Stormy Deep,” a traditional song that entered the bluegrass canon via Bill Monroe himself. (Watch above.) It’s a popular duet, whether at jam sessions or on stage, and in this iteration finds the forward-thinking pair of Hull and Strings employing more retro sounds. Both are adept at these tones and textures, but tend to opt for more envelope-pushing picking on their own songs and creations. It’s lovely to hear both players in a bit more reserved a setting, with moments of star power shining through their tasteful playing and careful listening.
It’s striking how crisp, clean, and precise Hull and Strings render the song, but the grit and gristle that we tend to associate with bluegrass – and that “high lonesome sound” – are evident, certainly not in short supply. Hull’s solos are playful with zany touches and bluesy licks. Strings holds down the resonant lead vocal part while Hull adds the high harmony, both singing the lyric entirely in duet, because that’s how it goes! Strings pulls hard through his own solo with his signature confidence and boldness, while reminding his listeners how pivotal an influence Doc Watson has been across his career.
Hull and Strings are no strangers to collaborating, and in many contexts. Remember that time they covered Post Malone together? And well before Postie’s country foray and Strings’ track features on it. Hull has been known to guest on Strings’ shows, and vice versa. Their backstage cover of “What Does the Deep Sea Say” taped at the Ryman Auditorium has hundreds of thousands of views; “Midnight on the Stormy Deep,” meanwhile, has amassed nearly 200,000 views since it landed on YouTube late last week. Plus, Strings fans will recognize the track, not only from the bluegrass songbook, as it were, but from Strings’ own discography as well. He dueted with bluegrass legend and Hall of Famer Del McCoury on a version of the number a few years back. We never tire of it.
Whatever the many factors that led to Hull and Strings picking “Midnight on the Stormy Deep” together on ACL, they all add up to a live performance that’s easy, confident, and fun, and ultimately speaks to the deep and wide roster of young and younger bluegrass professionals who are keeping this music alive and in the limelight. For the coming generations and as-yet uninitiated new bluegrass fans, too.
Artist:Sterling Drake Hometown: Philipsburg, Montana Latest Album:The Shape I’m In (out May 2, 2025 via Calusa Music/Missing Piece Records) Personal Nicknames (or rejected band names): “Sterl Haggard”
If you had to write a mission statement for your career, what would it be?
Roots country and folk music have a way of bringing people together. These songs carry the stories and wisdom of those who came before us, reminding us of what we share across generations. Music can open hearts, challenge perspectives, and create space for vulnerability. I’m especially grateful for the chance to use my platform to advocate for the land, the people who depend on it, and the importance of mental health both in rural communities and beyond. Whether playing for a small gathering or a big crowd, I see music as a way to keep these stories alive and inspire connection.
Which elements of nature do you spend the most time with and how do they impact your work?
I live in a small town in Granite County, Montana, where the land is mostly ranches and public wilderness and things are luckily untouched by urban sprawl. The Rockies and the high desert ranges are the place I like to go to in my mind. Although music is my main focus at this time in my life, I spend a lot of time outdoors. Horseback, hiking, camping, skiing, and helping out the neighbor in the branding pen. Being outside is part of my daily life, and it helps keep me grounded.
Genre is dead (long live genre!), but how would you describe the genres and styles your music inhabits?
I consider my music “roots” in the broadest sense. It draws from the deep well of American musical traditions: country, folk, Western, bluegrass, Western swing, and even Irish traditional. At times I may lean more on traditional country and honky-tonk and other times I may feel inspired by something else, and I enjoy the creative flexibility. At its core, it’s about storytelling, connection, and carrying forward the sounds and ideas that have shaped generations before me.
Which artist has influenced you the most – and how?
Willie Nelson has influenced me the most. He pulls from so many corners of American music – jazz, blues, folk, Western swing – but no matter what he’s playing, it always feels country, always feels Western, and always feels like Willie. He never let genres box him in, and that’s something I really admire. His approach to songwriting, storytelling, and even the way he plays guitar has shaped how I think about music.
A close runner-up would be Roger Miller. He had this effortless looseness and wit in his writing that made even the simplest songs feel unique. He never took himself too seriously, but was still a master of his craft. That balance between depth and playfulness is something I aspire to carry into my own music.
What’s one question you wish interviewers would stop asking you?
Interviewers will sometimes ask artists the question, “When did you know you were talented, or when you were a musician?” It makes it sound like creating music is something only a few people are born to do, when in reality, it takes years of work, dedication, and a willingness to keep learning. More importantly, it makes artistic expression seem out of reach for most people, when creativity exists in everything we do. Music isn’t about being chosen, it’s about choosing to put in the time and effort to make something meaningful.
The accordion is like a cousin you don’t see very often, but who is an integral, colorful member of the family. In country, folk, bluegrass and related roots music from the U.S., the accordion has always been there, more of a presence than you might think. It’s central to styles such as zydeco, Cajun, and conjunto music, but also many foundational bluegrass and country artists – such as Bill Monroe and the Carter Family – used accordion in their music at times. The accordion was in the environment, part of the sound world of mid-20th-century popular music, adding a special touch to bands of all kinds. Although it did not continue to flourish as a central bluegrass or country instrument, there’s no musical reason for that absence: it fits right into the sound. Whether playing rhythm or lead, it can be versatile, punchy, and expressive.
If country music is our unifying theme here, the accordion makes a great lens for viewing the vast diversity of the genre and its extensive family tree: Tejano-conjunto accordion playing, with its polka and Spanish origins and its two-beat and waltz rhythms, is a natural fit with country; zydeco and Cajun music overlap with it seamlessly; Western Swing bands, which merged jazz and country, often included accordionists from the Midwest with Central or Eastern European backgrounds. Of course, the impact of African American blues, swing, and jazz is so strong in all these styles that it’s more than just an “influence” – really a foundation. Jewish klezmer music is also a branch of the “roots music” tree; it came from Europe and developed in the U.S., absorbing many of the same influences as the other genres while making great use of the accordion. – Will Holshouser
“Together Again” – Steve Jordan
The incredible Esteban “Steve” Jordan grew up playing conjunto music in Texas and expanded his repertoire to include country, Latin music, rock, zydeco and more. He was known as “El Parche” for the patch he wore over his blind eye and also as the “Jimi Hendrix of the accordion,” since he played through an effects pedal (flanger or phaser). On his version of this Buck Owens tune, he plays many roles brilliantly: lead vocals, accordion solo, fills and accompaniment.
“J’ai Eté-Z-Au Bal” – Steve Riley & the Mamou Playboys
Steve Riley is one of the finest Cajun accordionists working today; this blistering version of a classic Cajun tune (“I Went to the Dance”) shows his virtuosity, the Cajun (diatonic) accordion in a lead role, and his band’s deep groove.
“Tennessee Waltz” – Pee Wee King & His Golden West Cowboys
Pee Wee King was born Julius Frank Anthony Kuczynski to a Polish-American family in Wisconsin. He learned accordion from his father, who played in a polka band, and went on to become a famous Western Swing bandleader and write the music for this country classic. His beautiful, single-reed accordion fills and moving thirds sound totally country, while revealing a Slavic touch.
“Blues de Basile” – Amédé Ardoin
Amédé Ardoin made some of the very first accordion records in Louisiana and is a common musical ancestor of all zydeco and Cajun accordion playing. His innovative, rhythmic, virtuosic accordion style and haunting vocals won him a great reputation both inside and outside his Afro-Creole community. He often played dances and made records with his close musical partner, Cajun fiddler Dennis McGee, including “Blues de Basile” in 1930. His life ended tragically when he was beaten by white vigilantes.
“Hard to Love Someone” – Clifton Chenier
Known as the King of the Bayous, Chenier brought together southwestern Louisiana zydeco rhythms and Delta blues. On this slow blues tune recorded in 1970, his fluid improvising and support of his own singing is nothing short of glorious. His brother Cleveland Chenier plays the rubboard.
“Bluegrass Special” – Bill Monroe (with Sally Ann Forrester)
Most people know that Bill Monroe defined the classic bluegrass sound. Some may not know that an early version of his band, The Blue Grass Boys, included a Blue Grass Girl, Wilene “Sally Ann” Forrester, on accordion. Her solid rhythm playing and all-too-short accordion break add warmth to this early instrumental, a 12-bar blues. If things had worked out just a little differently, maybe every bluegrass band today would include an accordion! (Hey, it’s not too late, folks.)
“Root, Hog or Die” – Mother Maybelle & The Carter Sisters (with Helen Carter)
Later in her life, Mother Maybelle Carter of the iconic Carter Family had a long performing career with her daughters. The group featured Helen Carter playing great accordion and often Chet Atkins on guitar. Here, too, the influence of swing and blues is readily apparent. “Root, hog, or die” is an old expression that means “you’re on your own.”
“Alon Kouri Laba” – Corey Ledet Zydeco
Corey Ledet, one of today’s most exciting zydeco accordionists, plays beautifully and sings in Louisiana Creole on this high-energy tune from his album Médikamen (2023).
“American Without Tears” – Elvis Costello (with Jo-El Sonnier)
Accordionist Jo-El Sonnier brings his sensitive touch and gorgeous Cajun waltz style to this song from Elvis Costello’s album King of America. (Rock producers and engineers, please take note: this is where an accordion should be in the mix – loud enough that it can breathe dynamically and find its place among the other instruments.)
“Shouting Song” – Will Holshouser
Here’s a tune from my new album, The Lone Wild Bird. I wrote “Shouting Song” with the sound of shape note singing in mind. This is a choral tradition in the rural U.S., mostly in the South, with a unique sound: shape note composers ignored (or just didn’t know about) many European harmonic rules which disallowed features like parallel fifths and chords with only two notes. Along with influences from various folk traditions and camp meeting spirituals, that stark approach to harmony gives the style its sound, which I use here as a point of departure.
“Un Mojado Sin Licensia” – Flaco Jimenez
The creative genius of the great Flaco Jimenez is on full display in this conjunto song about the hardships faced by a Mexican immigrant in Texas. His rhythmic drive, melodic inventiveness, and roller-coaster chromatic runs are thrilling to the ears.
“Streets of Bakersfield” – Dwight Yoakam (with Flaco Jimenez)
Here’s Flaco again, on a recording that went to the top of the country charts in 1988. This song was written by Homer Joy, first recorded by Buck Owens in 1972, and re-done here by Dwight Yoakam with both Buck and Flaco as guest stars.
“Spadella” – Spade Cooley (with Pedro DePaul)
Accordionist and arranger Larry “Pedro” DePaul grew up in Cleveland, Ohio, where he studied music at the Hungarian Conservatory. Spade Cooley, originally from Oklahoma, was a popular Western Swing bandleader in the LA area. There’s a grisly tale behind this tune: Cooley wrote it for his wife Ella, who he was convicted of murdering in 1961.
“Second Avenue Square Dance” – Dave Tarras with the Abe Ellstein Orchestra
Any discussion of the accordion in American roots music should include klezmer, Eastern European Jewish music that came to the U.S. and absorbed influences such as the drum kit, certain jazz band formats, etc. On this tune the great clarinetist Dave Tarras plays the lead, but the anonymous accordionist is heard prominently, playing beautiful fills and rhythm, harmonizing with the melody, and using rich chords to blend with the horns. Second Avenue in Manhattan was the epicenter of the Yiddish theater scene, which had a huge impact on Broadway. The title could be just a lark, or a nod to the musical kinship between klezmer and country music!
“Atlantic City” – The Band (with Garth Hudson)
Garth Hudson’s adventurous playing with The Band carved out a role for the accordion in that kind of rock music. (He also played the horizontal keyboards: organ, etc.) I had the thrill of meeting him when we both played on Martha Wainwright’s live Edith Piaf tribute album (Sans Fusils, Ni Souliers à Paris). Unfortunately, the producers had us playing on different tunes, not at the same time! On this cover of a Bruce Springsteen song, recorded in 1993, Garth creates a fantasy using multi-tracked layers of accordion and organ.
They may be called The Lil Smokies, but the bluegrass bangers birthed by the band originating from Big Sky country are anything but small.
Formed in the late 2000s when the group’s current sole remaining original member, Andy Dunnigan, began bringing his Dobro to picking parties during his college days in Missoula, Montana, the Smokies have gone on to become one of the West’s most captivating modern-day string bands, as they release their fourth studio album, Break Of The Tide.
Out April 4, the album is the Smokies’ first since 2021’s critically acclaimed Tornillo and features new band members, bassist Jean Luc Davis and banjoist Sam Armstrong-Zickefoose, for the first time. They’re joined by the core of Dunnigan, fiddler Jake Simpson, and guitarist “Rev” Matthew Reiger. According to Reiger, who joined the Smokies in 2015, his nickname stems from a life changing trip to California’s High Sierra Festival in 2007, where he earned the label for his love of the Stanley Brothers and gospel music. When he later joined the band, the name stuck, due to him sharing first names with their banjo player at the time, Matt Cornette.
“High Sierra changed the whole course of my life,” Reiger tells BGS. “It was at that festival that I made the decision to drop out of music school, grow out a band, get a band and most importantly, set out on a path to create a life where I really enjoyed the music I played instead of the academic pursuits. We made it back to the festival 10 years later to play it for the first time in 2017, so it’ll always have a special place in my heart.”
Ahead of the release of Break Of The Tide we caught up with Reiger to talk about the four-year process of bringing the album to life, recording in Texas, and the band’s separate lives while not together on the road.
What’s it been like for you, first joining an already well-established band and then welcoming two new members into the fold in recent years now with plenty of experience with the Smokies under your belt?
Matthew Reiger: It was a fast moving train when I jumped into the band. I had a decent place in Seattle at the time that I sublet to abandon everything I had and jump aboard. At the time we played and moved a lot faster. It was an incredible ride at the beginning and has been the whole way through, but what I love is the steady progression from runaway train to a rowboat on a gentle pond, which musically is more of where we’re at right now. This new record is as honest as anything we’ve ever recorded. Most of the songs were slowed down a bit, which is a good metaphor for how we are as people now.
Right now is about as introspective and pensive a time that I’ve ever experienced. A lot of people are making changes and finding a new path forward after COVID and the instability that ensued. For example, I recently started practicing with a metronome, not trying to play faster, but rather to see how slowly I could play a song. I want to see just how slow and deliberate I can play the song of my life. When you do that you find some challenging points where it’s not all bouncy, happy, and driving forward. The stillness is sometimes unnerving, but I’m happy we’re going through it on this record.
In that regard, [producer] Robert Ellis played a big role in slowing things down, especially on my songs. The way he heard the songs was perhaps even more honest than I heard them. It was quite a display of skill and artfulness on his behalf.
This was the second album in a row you’ve gone to Texas to record, following 2021’s Tornillo with Bill Reynolds at Sonic Ranch. What made y’all want to head back there to record with Robert at Niles City Sound this go around?
It was all for Robert. I’d fly anywhere in the world for the opportunity to work with him. He likes to produce the records he works on in Texas and I don’t blame him. We also recognized the impact of using a familiar place and equipment to a producer. On Break Of The Tide I probably played four guitars and there were a couple more involved beyond that. I think there’s a special alignment between instruments and the places where they live – they’re all there for a reason. It could be a big deal or seemingly innocuous, but there’s a reason they’re in that space and I think you can create some really cool things in those environments. That really came through on this record.
As we mentioned previously, Break Of The Tide is the Smokies’ first record since 2021. Was that four-year gap intentional and a byproduct of what you said earlier about slowing down, or is it due to something entirely different?
COVID, the resulting instabilities, and the band’s general desire to slow down were all factors, but if I had to pick a standout factor it’d be all the uncertainty within the touring music world. Just finding the time, money, and other resources necessary to continue doing that in the midst of a global shakeup was on our minds. It has taken every bit of determination and willpower I can muster – and I’m sure the rest of the guys would agree, too – to keep playing and stay together as a group. Adding an album to that was too much for us for several years and once you summon the courage to go do that you have the arduous process of working through the business side of things and everything that goes into making a record that’s non-musical.
You just touched on some of the struggles and the grind of being a touring musician, especially these last few years. Are those things y’all are singing about on songs like “Lately” and “Keep Me Down” from this new record?
You’re spot-on. I don’t think there’s any way to explain how challenging it is to juggle one’s personal life and touring. It is something I didn’t understand until I did it. The size and shape of the pieces you have to make the puzzle are always changing. It takes a radical toll on who you are at home, even when you’re not touring. You have this recovery period, you have this social adjustment, you have this relationship adjustment, and it’s sort of like you’re always jumping onto or off of a moving treadmill. Going on tour is like jumping on the moving treadmill since you often stumble because everything’s moving so fast, but then when you return home you have to slow down that uncomfortable pace and hop off the treadmill, which feels weird at first even though you’re hopping back onto stable ground since you’re so conditioned to running at full speed. Because of that there’s a lot of picking yourself up each time you go on tour and each time you come home, which is something both those songs touch on.
Similar to what we just talked about with “Lately” and “Keep Me Down,” it seems like “Break Of The Tide” and “Bad News Babe” are sister songs about being there for people you love while also knowing when to cut them off. Your thoughts?
I love the term “sister songs!” Like we talked earlier, touring takes a huge toll on personal relationships. I’ve said before that my first marriage isn’t to the Smokies or touring, but to music in general. It’s my first partner and has been for a long time. It takes a very special person to be in a relationship with someone who already has a partner, though it’s all very trendy in the coastal areas. [Laughs]
“Break Of The Tide” in particular is a song about feeling powerless, which is one of the biggest struggles we can face, and how it’s difficult to help those you love and even harder to walk away and recognize you can’t save them when those situations arise. Sometimes you just have to walk away to protect everyone involved, including yourself, which is oftentimes easier said than done.
We’ve been talking about the sacrifices of being a touring musician, but I’m also curious about your sacrifices within the band, particularly the miles between y’all being spread out in Seattle, Montana, Oklahoma, and Colorado. How has that affected how you operate together as a group?
It certainly makes it harder to get together and practice. [Laughs] I live just west of Seattle on Vashon Island, which is a 24-mile existence with a lot of retired folks. Everything’s a little slower than you expect and there’s a lot of hippie stuff going on – like I have a shower in my backyard. It’s super rural with a lot of farms, but it’s also just outside Seattle. Driving my car there is a little tricky, because I have to hop on a boat, but there’s ways to cross on a ferry and get to the city in 45 minutes to an hour. You have to put in some work to get there, which is what I love not only about this island, but the band as well.
It’s important for us all to feel like ourselves when we’re not on tour, because it’s a lot of costume-wearing when we are out on the road. Having that separation makes it easier to go back out on tour with more energy once it’s time to throw the costumes back on and jump in the van with a bunch of crazies for a while.
From the title of this record, Break Of The Tide, to songs like “Sycamore Dreams,” nature’s influence can be heard throughout the project. How would you say the outdoors informs The Smokies’ sound?
In some ways I think you could argue that nature is the only muse. There’s something so powerful about the ocean that I love. It’s the biggest thing in the world and connects nearly every point in it. In order to write in the way that I want to I have to be able to feel small and insignificant, and there’s nothing quite like an ocean to remind us just how small we all are and to be grateful for that. Because of that I’ve written very few songs that didn’t mention water.
What has music, specifically the process of bringing this new record to life, taught you about yourself?
I’ve spent most of my life trying to write music, but something that I’ve come to see – especially these past few years and what I hear on this record – is that the best art is not so much written, it is captured, and in order to do that you have to practice your listening. Writing and working on things is great, but in the end you have to turn off the metronome, stop thinking and just listen. That’s where you’ll find the beauty in every facet of life, not just in music.
This week our roundup of premieres and new music is a special, “Oops! All Bluegrass!” edition of the weekly series. But still with plenty of variety herein.
Kicking us off, Infamous Stringdusters fiddler Jeremy Garrett unveils “Fly Away to Your Love,” a driving and bluesy modern take on how love can take command of your life, drawing inspiration from Romeo and Juliet. Garrett’s labelmates, Montana-based bluegrass band the Lil Smokies, continue with the theme of love, romance, and sacrifice with “Lay it Down for Love” – because investing in love always pays off.
Guitarist Cameron Knowler showcases “Mule at the Wagon” an acoustic guitar trio number from his new album CRK, which releases today and text paints the beautiful – and stark – Yuma, Arizona, its surrounding states, deserts, and the plains. Plus, mandolinist and professor Joe K. Walsh launches his new album, Trust and Love, today so we’re highlighting a lovely and vibey instrumental, “Oatmeal,” that he appropriately wrote over breakfast.
Bluegrass legend, multi-instrumentalist picker and singer-songwriter Tim O’Brien announces his upcoming album, Paper Flowers, today as well. The lead track from the project, “Lonesome Armadillo,” was written with folk icon Tom Paxton and O’Brien’s partner Jan Fabricius, who features across the new album. It’s a funny tale of a backyard critter trap and a surprise armored four-legged prisoner. Meanwhile, supergroup Sister Sadie bring us a devastating and heartfelt song, “Let the Circle Be Broken,” about interrupting cycles of generational trauma and finding redemption in ourselves and support systems. Written by Sadies Deanie Richardson and Dani Flowers with in-demand songwriter and artist Erin Enderlin, the track is moving and deeply resonant.
Each week of new music is its own adventure, but this roundup feels particularly superlative. You know what we think– You Gotta Hear This!
Jeremy Garrett, “Fly Away to Your Love”
Artist: Jeremy Garrett Hometown: Drake, Colorado Song: “Fly Away to Your Love” Album:Storm Mountain Release Date: March 28, 2025 (single); June 27, 2025 (album) Label: Americana Vibes
In Their Words: “When troubles may come, in any relationship, the idea is to persevere – to overcome with grace. The hope of love eternal, or at least a love that stands the test of time. And in the end, like Shakespeare’s famous Romeo and Juliet, if it can’t be, then there is no hope of anything better. So, will it command your life? Is dying in hopes to be with the one you love better than life itself without that someone? Fly away to your love is a modern take, written in an old-time way, encompassing that passion and story in a song.” – Jeremy Garrett
Track Credits: Jeremy Garrett – Lead vocal, fiddle Chris Luquette – Guitar Ryan Cavanaugh – Banjo Travis Anderson – Bass
Cameron Knowler, “Mule at the Wagon”
Artist:Cameron Knowler Hometown: Yuma, Arizona Song: “Mule at the Wagon” Album:CRK Release Date: April 4, 2025 Label: Worried Songs
In Their Words: “‘Bull at the Wagon’ is a fiddle tune I sourced from The Lewis Brothers, a great old New Mexico-via-Texas string band with a sweet tooth for rambunctiousness. I changed ‘bull’ to ‘mule’ because, well, I’ve had a few donkey encounters out in West Texas, not far from where the Lewises cut their four sides for the Victor label in 1929. It’s one of those titles that popped into my life at the damndest times – while playing tunes with Frank Fairfield in Los Angeles, performing at a border crossing party in Terlingua, Texas, and visiting with Norman Blake at his home in Rising Fawn, Georgia. To my ear, its melody moves past some of the stylized landscape found in American traditional music these days; maybe it’s the way the four chord asserts itself in the second part, or the way the five chord lands so starkly and dominantly in the third; this mix of quick and static passages is highly generative for arranging and improvising.
“I wanted to see what this tune would yield in a lilting, sort of pastoral setting, so I called my talented friends Jordan Tice and Robert Bowlin who graciously agreed to record it with me at The Tractor Shed in Goodlettsville, Tennessee. Jordan tuned to open G (capo 2), I played out of standard (capo 2), Robert in standard with no capo. Mr. Bowlin and I are playing our old Gibson J-35s and Jordan is using his Preston Thompson OM. The performance found on CRK is one of the first takes.” – Cameron Knowler
Track Credits: Robert Bowlin – Guitar Cameron Knowler – Guitar Sean Sullivan – Engineer Jordan Tice – Guitar, producer
The Lil Smokies, “Lay It Down for Love”
Artist:The Lil Smokies Hometown: Montana Song: “Lay It Down for Love” Album:Break of the Tide Release Date: April 4, 2025 Label: Americana Vibes
In Their Words: “The greatest honor of my life is to have spent it fully immersed in music. That’s not to say it hasn’t come without cost. Words can’t carry the weight of the sacrifices required, though I’ve enjoyed trying to explain. All I know is that the loss and doubt I’ve faced has given me a more beautiful life than I ever imagined when I set out on this path. I wouldn’t change a thing. ‘Lay it Down for Love’ was written in some of the darkest days of my life, when there was no evidence that my wagers would come back to me. Today I hear it as a reminder that those days come and go, but investing in love always pays off.” – “Rev,” Matthew Rieger
Track Credits: Andy Dunnigan – Dobro, vocals Matthew Rieger – Guitar, vocals Jake Simpson – Fiddle, guitar, vocals Jean Luc Davis – Bass Sam Armstrong Zickefoose – Banjo
In Their Words: “There’s an awful lot of talk about migrants invading from the south, but nobody’s talking about armadillos. After we started trippin’ over little holes in our yard, Jan baited a raccoon trap, focused the security camera on it, and then we drove to Memphis to play a show. On the set break, we saw we’d caught the hard-shelled offender, but after the show we saw that he’d arched his back, bent the trap, and escaped. We told Tom Paxton about it the next week and he said, ‘Let’s tell his story.’
“Jan and I started weekly co-writing sessions with Tom in the spring of 2023 and twelve of the fifteen songs on our June 6th release, Paper Flowers, come from those Wednesday afternoon Zooms. It’s our first real collaborative project and a narrative of Jan’s and my life together runs through the record – from courtship to growing old together, with a road trip, the armadillo, and a granddaughter’s wedding in between.” – Tim O’Brien
Track Credits: Larry Atamanuik – Drums Mike Bub – Bass Jan Fabricius – Mandolin, vocal, songwriting Mike Rojas – Accordion Justin Moses – Resophonic guitar Tim O’Brien – Guitar, vocal, songwriting Tom Paxton – Songwriting
Sister Sadie, “Let the Circle Be Broken”
Artist:Sister Sadie Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee Song: “Let The Circle Be Broken” Release Date: April 4, 2025
In Their Words: “Dani Flowers, Erin Enderlin, and myself wrote ‘Let the Circle Be Broken’ right after my Dad passed away. He was an abusive man who verbally, emotionally, and sexually abused me for most of my 18 years living at home with him. When I confronted him as an adult, he said that it had been done to him as a child. This song is about that generational trauma and abuse that keeps getting passed down. The continuing of that trauma and abuse stops with me. It doesn’t go any further. It was such a healing and therapeutic experience to write this with Dani and Erin. The recording session for this was so emotional for me. I felt like I was talking to my Dad at the end during the instrumental fade. He was there and he heard me. That circle is officially now broken.” – Deanie Richardson, fiddle
“Deanie, Erin, and I wrote this song about generational trauma, which each of us have experienced different levels of. This song is about how we’ve decided that these cycles that have been repeated over and over in our families end with us. I was born into a family of some of the worst types of people to ever exist in this world and it is sometimes so hard to sit with the fact that you come from a line of people who are capable of doing such awful things to others — to you. While I can’t say the same for many of my family members, I can say for sure that my children will never experience from me what I experienced from my mother and what she experienced from hers and what she experienced from hers.” – Dani Flowers, vocals
“The song ‘Let The Circle Be Broken’ touches us all within this band because of its very personal nature. We feel it every time we perform it on stage. Deanie, Dani, and Erin wrote an incredible song that touches the audience. It’s not uncommon to look out and see tears streaming down people’s faces. As a creator, it’s very overwhelming.” – Gena Britt, banjo
“I resonate so deeply with the message of ‘Let The Circle Be Broken’ and I find myself a little emotional every time we play it. As someone who is actively working to heal my own generational family trauma, seeing the strong women around me working to do the same makes me feel hopeful, grateful and connected.” – Rainy Miatke, mandolin
“I think ‘Let The Circle Be Broken’ is a beautifully written song that a lot of people need to hear. It has a very important message about stopping generational messes and I cry almost every time we play it. I love Deanie so much and I know this song means so much to her, as it does to all of us. ‘Let The Circle Be Broken’ I think could mean a lot of different things to a lot of different people, too, and that’s the sign of a fantastic song. Dani Flowers, Deanie Richardson, and Erin Enderlin crafted an amazing piece of art.” – Jaelee Roberts, vocals
Track Credits: Deanie Richardson – Fiddle Gena Britt – Baritone banjo Dani Flowers – Lead vocal Jaelee Roberts – Harmony vocal Mary Meyer – Mandolin, piano Maddie Dalton – Upright bass, harmony vocal Seth Taylor – Acoustic guitar, electric guitar Dave Racine – Drums, percussion
Joe K. Walsh, “Oatmeal”
Artist:Joe K. Walsh Hometown: Portland, Maine Song: “Oatmeal” Album: Trust and Love Release Date: April 4, 2025 Label: Adhyâropa Records
In Their Words: “There are so many tunes that I love that are comprised of an entirely (or almost entirely) diatonic melody which has been harmonized with non-diatonic chords. Some favorite examples are ‘Moon River,’ ‘Someone to Watch Over Me,’ David Grisman’s ‘Dawg’s Waltz,’ Pat Metheny’s tune ‘James,’ and Matt Flinner’s tune ‘Fallen Star.’ I’ve taught a tune-writing ensemble at Berklee for many years, with the idea that each of member of the ensemble writes and presents a tune every week, and I like to use this idea as a prompt for the students. This tune was one I wrote over breakfast in response to this prompt one morning before heading to Boston for school.” – Joe K. Walsh
Track Credits: Joe K. Walsh – Mandolin Rich Hinman – Pedal steel Zackariah Hickman – Bass John Mailander – Fiddle Dave Brophy – Drums
Photo Credit: Tim O’Brien and Jan Fabricius by Scott Simontacchi; Joe K. Walsh by Natalie Conn.
After 14 years, one of the biggest and most well-known bluegrass bands in the history of the music, Alison Krauss & Union Station, have returned with a brand new studio album, Arcadia. Released on March 28 to the delight of bluegrass and AKUS fans the world over, the collection doesn’t merely pick up where the group left off with 2011’s Paper Airplane. Instead, Arcadia soars back through the band’s deep and mighty discography landing somewhere, sonically, between So Long, So Wrong (1997) and Lonely Runs Both Ways (2004) – in other words, this iconic bluegrass band made a bluegrass album.
Alison Krauss & Union Station, by many measures, are one of the most prominent bluegrass bands to ever emerge from the genre. With the smashing success of her late ’90s to 2010s projects with Union Station and the incredible momentum behind their particular blend of bluegrass, “mash,” easy listening, country, and adult contemporary, Krauss catapulted to roots music notoriety, becoming a household name. She’d lend her voice to the blockbuster Coen Brothers film O Brother, Where Art Thou?, tour with Willie Nelson and Family, make two smash hit records with rock and roll legend Robert Plant, back up Shania Twain, duet with artists like Dolly Parton, Andrea Bocelli, Kris Kristofferson, Cyndi Lauper, Ringo Starr, and countless others. Was bluegrass, which Krauss had called her musical home since she was a pre-teen fiddle contest phenom, merely a springboard into fame and notoriety?
Of course not. This is the idiom in which Krauss has made most of her art; this is a second language – or perhaps, a first – and the fluency and virtuosity Krauss and her band have displayed are two of the most important bluegrass exports that registered and resonated with the masses who would become her fans. Krauss’s crystalline and powerful voice, sensitive and deliberate deliveries, endless grit, and one-of-a-kind skill for song curation only bolstered the electric, engaging charm of the bluegrass bones endemic in her artistry. It’s no wonder that this iteration of bluegrass ended up becoming arguably the most mainstream and most recognizable in the U.S., if not the world.
So, Krauss spread her wings and flew, carrying those bluegrass sensibilities – however overt or subtle – into everything she made. Whether the clean and country Windy City or the soulful and rockin’ pair of Raising Sand and Raise The Roof with Robert Plant, or the easy and romantic Forget About It, she had new horizons to run towards. But she always brought bluegrass with her. To arena tours, giant amphitheaters, sheds, pavilions, the biggest festivals, and beyond. By the time Paper Airplane took off, many in bluegrass regarded AKUS as bluegrass’s zenith, its peak, its maximum. Would anyone ever go further, achieve more, or play to larger audiences? This, after all, is the woman and band who up until they were bested by Beyoncé herself boasted more GRAMMY wins than any other artist in the organization’s history. Who could ever top them?
Well, it turns out Alison Krauss & Union Station weren’t just blazing a trail only they could trod down. Arcadia, fourteen years on from their most recent studio release, enters a universe – a resplendent ecosystem, a vibrant economy – that wouldn’t have existed if not for this band creating the factors that would allow it to exist. Folks like Billy Strings, Molly Tuttle, Sierra Ferrell, Tyler Childers, Zach Top, and many more have raised the roof on what’s possible for bluegrass and bluegrass-adjacent artists, what heights they can achieve, and what genre and style infusions are acceptable and marketable.
But AKUS and Arcadia, especially by returning to many of the musical markers from their ’90s and ’00s offerings, reenter the world that they created not as legacy artists or sceptered elders. They seem to be quite happy to consider themselves among these fresh giants in or around or from bluegrass as peers, contemporaries. Legends in their own rights, yes, and with a mythical gravitational pull to all of these acts and musicians they have inspired across generations, but Arcadia doesn’t feel stoic or mothballed, or almighty and shrouded by clouds high atop a sacred mountain. There’s mash that sounds direct from the halls of SPBGMA at the Music City Sheraton, there’s tender, longing romance, there’s rip roarin’ fiddle, there are transatlantic touches, there’s a dash of dystopia, and plenty of that iconoclastic melancholy for which Krauss has become known. There’s also a new voice in the mix, IIIrd Tyme Out’s frontman Russell Moore, who sings lead on four of the album’s ten tracks, filling the “big shoes” of former member Dan Tyminski.
In short, Alison Krauss & Union Station may be roots music royalty, but their status has in no way dulled their dynamism. They could rest on their laurels, but Krauss and her cohort are clearly still staring down fresh, new horizons. Could there be a new wind in their sails, as they embark alongside this new class of arena-ready, large scale bluegrassers? Has a tacit permission been given to return to their essential roots? Or maybe it’s just a matter of time. When bluegrass is in you, in the soil from which you grew, it has a tendency to ooze out all along or all at once. That trail of ‘grassy touches is what got Alison Krauss & Union Station here in the first place, and it’s what will bring them through the next fourteen years, too. Whatever sounds, songs, and stories occur between.
Alison Krauss & Union Station are our April 2025 Artist of the Month. Our 3+ hour Essentials Playlist below covers their entire discography, as well as Krauss’ own releases and other collaborations. Stay tuned for exclusive content coming later this month – like our interview with Alison about the album, powering through dysphonia, how she collects songs, and more. Plus, we have a collection of Six of the Best Alison Krauss Covers and our discography deep dive for beginners and longtime fans alike. Don’t forget about our exclusive Toy Heart podcast interview with Alison hosted by Tom Power or our recent interview with Russell Moore himself about how excited he is for this brand new gig. We’ll be diving back into the BGS Archives for all things AKUS, so follow along on social media as, for a month at least, we’ll be a proud Alison Krauss & Union Situation.
In the wake of several viral country songs released in 2023 – most notably the ill-conceived pair of Jason Aldean’s “Try That in a Small Town” and Oliver Anthony’s “Rich Men North of Richmond” – renowned author and country journalist David Cantwell penned an essay for TIME magazine with an absolutely stunning (while quite simple) observation included. Cantwell considered place, citizenship, and ownership. To whom does the “small town” belong?
“…For most of today’s country fans that small town isn’t TV’s tiny Mayberry; it’s a suburb or exurb of some decent-or-giant-sized metro,” Cantwell explains. “I wish more country songs would talk about that proximity, how city folk and small-town folk flow back and forth for work and fun – and are very often the same people.”
And are very often the same people. Humans don’t live their lives along strict, black-and-white boundaries and borders – no matter how often society attempts such demarcations. Our lives are lived in the gray, in the blurry in-betweens, as collections of many disparate and often dichotomous parts.
Singer-songwriter Olivia Ellen Lloyd is just such a person, caught up in the nebulous purgatory between rural and urban, city folk and country folk, doing it for herself and doing it for ambition. Her brand new independent album, Do It Myself, finds Lloyd with a sense of confidence that could only be earned through a hard-working, bootstraps approach to making music – a mindset that, whether within or outside the arts, is well known to West Virginians like herself.
After a stint living in Nashville, Lloyd returned to New York City, following up 2021’s fantastic Loose Cannon with the heartfelt, sensitive, and often point-blank songs of Do It Myself. Like Loose Cannon, this material is danceable, country, honky-tonkin’, and bluegrassy while it boasts deft and majestic moments of WV DIY, punk, and rock and roll. After crisscrossing the country proffering her art, Lloyd seems to have realized that being both a city person and a country person is never a drawback, it’s a superpower. Having her feet in NYC, her heart in West Virginia, and her work anywhere and everywhere, Lloyd has clearly determined it’s not a dilution of the “authentic” or roots-music-ready facets of herself to straddle these arbitrary borders and own that duality.
As a result, Do It Myself is remarkably successful. Like Hazel Dickens in D.C. or Dolly Parton in Nashville or Tina Turner in Memphis, Lloyd has found her voice and found herself not by running from who she thinks she can’t be anymore, or editing out the parts of herself that don’t seem to “fit” with country tropes and perceptions of good ol’ American rurality. Instead, she’s reached this current era of music making by resting easy – or not so easy, at times – in the knowledge that the best she can do as a singer-songwriter-artist is to be herself, whoever that is, in the truest format possible at any given time.
We began our BGS Cover Story interview by discussing that ongoing search for herself and how that particular journey shows up throughout Do It Myself – in the lyrics, sonics, and beyond.
It feels like your music in general, whether we’re talking about Loose Cannon or the new album, Do It Myself, you’re most often turning over the idea of finding yourself – and not that that’s a static thing to be found. It’s not that you find it once and you’re done finding it. Your music orbits around these questions of, “Who am I? Is this me?” I feel that really strongly in this record. So, as you’re releasing this album I wondered, who is the self you have found? And how goes the search for yourself?
Olivia Ellen Lloyd: I think what’s really interesting is I don’t know that I would’ve put a finger on that until recently. I’ve also come around to the understanding that that is what my music has done, which is help me come back to myself and find myself. I would say it’s currently going pretty well, but boy it has been a journey to get there.
I think writing this record, I was much closer to her – to me – when I started writing this record, but I wasn’t as close as I thought I was. It’s taken not only writing it and realizing that I wanted to put it out and all that stuff, but also deciding to self release it and deciding to continue to champion my own work where I’ve truly found that. That, “Oh there she is!” [feeling]. I feel very recently like I have arrived at the person that I’ve been looking for and that’s exciting and also really scary, because boy, has most of my work orbited around, “What the fuck happened? How did we get so lost?”
I once was lost, but I’m pretty found lately.
How do you feel about writing songs that are so personal and that are so much about growth, introspection, and questioning and then having to carry them around on your back for a year or two or three on tour – or for the rest of your life! How does that process feel to you or that emotional or mental understanding?
Interestingly, at least with my first record, I think I wrote often with no aim, so there were no expectations. I mean it’s funny, Justin, because you are one of the few people in the music industry and in my music world who knew me when I was writing many of these songs, but not performing often. The process of writing was very much a way to try and tune into this inner voice that I’ve been learning to listen to. It was an attempt to get in touch with myself, which I really have struggled to do for various reasons throughout my life.
I think I’m also quite an impulsive person, historically, and I have a lot of tattoos – a lot of stupid tattoos – and I kind of think of these songs, especially the personal ones that no longer represent [me like tattoos.] I don’t drink anymore really – I wouldn’t say that I’m sober, but drinking is not a big part of my life anymore – and all of Loose Cannon and much of this record involves talking about those moments in my life. But I have this tattoo of a possum drinking a High Life. That’s not who I am anymore, but that was a part of how I got here. When I think about these personal songs that involve a lot of myself and a lot of what’s really going on I think, “Well, that’s a part of the patchwork,” but it doesn’t have to be – luckily – the whole story or the end of the story, either.
The way that you’re utilizing so many different roots styles, it’s disarming of a listener, so you can have a danceable, honky-tonkin’ track that’s still lonesome as fuck, tear in your beer. It feels like it can still be very country, very Americana in the way that it is melodramatic, but it still feels grounded in reality.
I think that playing with genre in the same way that we experiment with different sidemen and co-writers is just another tool that we can use. I see a lot of artists, especially right now, there’s just so much pressure to hit. There’s so much pressure to hit on a vibe, hit on a moment. Part of the joy of this is playing in those in-between spaces and finding something unexpected.
Come on, if we’ve got Dolly and Patsy and Loretta, they did a lot of the groundwork so we should get to play around that space! We’re not gonna outwrite or outsing those women, we simply cannot, so the opportunity we have is to explore. I don’t wanna go back. I don’t wanna go back to any type of past anywhere. The future is scary for me, but I’m really curious about what could come next, after those things, and how we can develop those sounds.
You’ve spoken on social media and on microphone about your approach to genre and how so much of it comes from growing up in West Virginia having this agnostic approach to genre aesthetic, on a practical day-to-day level. You’re doing West Virginia music, you’re bringing in Nashville, you’re bringing in New York City. Can you talk a little bit about that?
For the first record I got the feedback that you can hear the country and the city kind of intermingling together and someone was like, “This [new] record feels like so much more New York.” I think I understand where people are coming from, but actually I think what’s happened is I built a musical community in New York City around bluegrass, which I think is one of the great community music forms. It is a great way to bring people together. I’m so grateful that I knew a bunch of those songs and then I got better with those songs and then I met people who were passionate about that music. But actually, this record was more about digging into the sounds that I grew up with. I grew up going to DIY punk shows, I grew up with my dad listening to the Grateful Dead, the Band, some Jerry Jeff Walker, Nitty Gritty Dirt Band.
I think this record really returns to a landscape that’s more true to how I was raised, which was eclectic, a little bit daring, and a little bit more rock influence. I think I’ve been quoted once and I’ll say it again, I think the reason that the places in West Virginia gravitate more towards that kind of music is because music got gentrified and country became this bizarre fascist, patriotic propaganda wing of the Republicans and of government.
If you are not one of those things, if you were not a kid who could afford to go to Berklee and you were not somebody who was all that proud to be a fucking American in the 2000s, you likely grew up listening to a lot of that. Especially in rural places, you likely grew up listening to a lot of punk, a lot of rock, a lot of indie pop. Like many people do, I walked way far away from that stuff and dug into the roots of country and folk and bluegrass. I swirled around in that stuff for so long, and then I came back to myself; I came back to the first music that really inspired me and felt less academic.
In my opinion, the most interesting part is all of those genres coming together. I do think that I’m very wary of anybody who talks about “good folk music” or “real bluegrass” or anything like that, because typically some very nice man in a fisherman sweater in New England has told them [to think that way]. I learned to like music the way that most normal people learn, I just listened to it and I didn’t worry about whether I was listening correctly or not. I think we gotta return to that.
Community has come up multiple times already in our conversation and I know how important community is to you – how pivotal it’s been in your musical career. How do you balance the “doing it for yourself” with the “doing it with community”? How do you do it for yourself and trust yourself and give yourself permission to be who you are and take up space to do it your own way, while also being a member of a community and doing it for the collective at the same time?
Have you been listening to my therapy conversations? [Laughs] I struggle with deep individualistic tendencies. I have a tendency to be like, “Fuck it.” That can also be bad. Notably, have yet to accomplish a successful relationship, because of this thing I do. “Fuck it, I’ll deal with it myself. I’ll just do everything myself. I will stop relying on you. I don’t need to rely on anybody for anything.”
I hope it comes through in the music that many of my songs, including “Do It Myself,” include enough self-awareness to know that I’m talking about choices that I’m making and things that I’m doing and they are not always the healthiest choice or the best choice. That’s okay. I think there’s a side of this where, yeah, I have been way too [self-reliant]. As I sit here selling shows out, opening for Jeff Tweedy, and unable to get a booking agent or a manager. Yes, I have isolated myself a little bit too much for people to be paying close attention.
Certainly “doing it myself,” in this context, many people told me to wait to put this record out. Maybe that would’ve made sense for a more reasonable person, but I think this is really important: Your community is everything. You need to be able to trust that the people around you are people who are willing to let you show up like however [you are]. In the last two years, I have focused so hard on surrounding myself with people who I know I can trust to both keep me honest and on my shit and love me through mistakes and they will engage in conflict resolution. They will be gentle with me and like I can do the same for them.
It’s not possible to be self-sufficient, emotionally, creatively, if you do not have a community that supports that in you.
I love that on the album you have “Live With It” back-to-back with “Do It Myself.” I think it’s pretty striking, they’re kind of a reaction or a response to the other – and vice versa. That line, “If this don’t kill me…” feels like such a natural lead in to “Do It Myself.” I wanted to ask you about “Live With It” and also about that placement of those, like bookends.
Thank you for asking about “Live With It.” My producer Mike Robinson is gonna be so happy and that’s his favorite song on the record. I mean, that’s my pandemic [song]. The chorus of that song I wrote during the pandemic. Looking back, it was probably also the worst point in my life for my drinking. I was at a point where I was not in control. Things were so bleak that it was like, what’s the point of trying to slow down or get a handle on it? There was no future to look forward to.
But by the time I finished the song, what I really hoped to accomplish is [communicating that] there are many times in our life where we have a pessimistic view on our own personal outcomes. We’re not really convinced that things could get better and yet there is an interesting tendency with human beings, we just keep going anyway most of the time. I find that to be both very curious and also something that is inspirational in its own way. We can continue to live and survive through unsurvivable things, even when we don’t know entirely why or how. That’s what “Live With It” is about. It’s four people experiencing something that they, for whatever reason, don’t see why they have to live through it or how they’re going to, but they do.
I also love the feel change in “Every Good Man.” So good. It’s nasty. That song is a bit like “Stand By Your Man,” playing with country tropes in a really fun way, but that feel change – I think I made a stank face just listening to it. Can you talk about that one a little bit?
Once again I just have to say, I think a lot of what you hear and the really cool musical stuff is owed to the creative partnership that Mike Robinson and I have. I can’t say enough good things about him. I met Mike at a fucking bluegrass jam and he was playing the banjo, which is like his fourth instrument, you know? I think these days he mostly makes money as a pedal steel player. Everyone is sleeping on his ability to play the acoustic guitar. Like, truly.
I met Mike six years ago now and out of the blue he coached me into a music career. He would deny that, but that is 100% what happened. He bullied me into it. And something I really love is that I can bring songs to him and he finds exactly [how it should sound], especially when he’s excited about the songs. Both “Every Good Man” and “Live With It” were definitely high on his list of loves. He finds these like beautiful moments and we have such a similar [approach], we were raised on the same music. For “Every Good Man,” that feel change came from some moment in a John Prine song.
Another song that I really like – it might be my favorite – is “Knotty Wood.” It feels like country. It feels like church. The lyric, “Who says memories can’t be bought? We always sold ours for a song…” grabbed me. You’re talking about how we compare and contrast and measure ourselves against other people and our perceptions of other people’s lives. “Don’t they look good when you paint over the pain and knotty wood?” It’s such a great hook. I love the imagery of it. I love that it takes me to my grandma’s house. But I feel like it begs the question: Do you ever worry that in synthesizing your experiences, putting them into songs, and taking them to the world that there’s any part of that process that is also “painting over the knotty wood”?
Yes, and my mother would definitely say yes. The genesis of that song actually came from my mother and I growing up in the same small town. I grew up a mile from [where she grew up] and from our home to her childhood home it was less than a mile. That house, my grandparents’ house, I spent probably two days a week there and almost every day after school I walked from my elementary school to my grandparents’ house. It was my home, too.
It got sold after he died, we couldn’t hang onto it. It got sold again during the pandemic by an actually really lovely woman. She started renovating it on Instagram and I watched this place that held generational memories be stripped in some cases to the studs and rebuilt. It was pretty public. I felt a sense of ownership of our place – that I do not factually own and never have – that got me. Being curious about place and home made me think about the journey my grandparents went on to become property owners and to become middle class. And about that moment in the height of prosperity in the ‘50s, all the things my grandparents sacrificed.
I think the song is about thinking about those generational ties, thinking about the things my grandparents sacrificed, and did not sacrifice or did not give away. I’m also thinking about how, especially right now in this weird American moment – “Don’t other people’s lives look good when you paint over the pain and knotty wood” – how many people want to talk about their humble, hardscrabble beginnings without having to actually live them.
There are so many other reasons why it’s taken me so long to get here, why it’s taken me so long to put my songs out. But it all revolved around the generational trauma of growing up relatively poor and with people who had to give up everything in order to get anything.
You can’t have it both ways. You can’t have the small-town, Appalachian upbringing and also have the confidence and gumption of [privilege]. I mean, it’s rare. It happens, but you don’t often then also come equipped with the gumption to believe that you have the right to be a fucking artist. All my grandparents wanted was just a nice home in a small town.
I’ve been hustling, self-promoting my own art and music, and in a desire to attain the things that the people I’m criticizing have attained, we get to the third verse. … The crux of that song is, I think, a way more interesting story than “rags to riches.” It’s middle class to rags.
I mean, my grandparents went to war so they could get an education, right? My grandfather’s nickname was “Bones,” because he was so thin he looked like a bag of bones. The trajectory of their lives into middle class comfort is astounding, and the way that his grandchildren and children are sliding back into poverty is much more so. It’s much more true to what is happening in this country than this “rags to riches” bullshit that we are still being asked to sell, but it’s trickier to talk about.
After 53 years and 23 albums, the release of the newest Seldom Scene recording is still something to celebrate. Remains to Be Scene is their first recording since the death of founding banjo player Ben Eldridge in 2024 and the last before Dudley Connell announced his retirement. In addition to Connell, the album features Fred Travers on Dobro, bassist Ronnie Simpkins, mandolinist Lou Reid, and Ron Stewart on fiddle and banjo.
Since its earliest days, the Seldom Scene has been known for busting open once-limiting bluegrass boundaries. The latest album continues this tradition, with songs pulled from sources like The Kinks, Woody Guthrie, and Jim Croce. Another tradition is incorporating new talent.
In 1995, three of five band members left to form another group. Looking to replace them, founding member John Duffey invited Simpkins, Connell, and Travers to a picking session. To those who didn’t know him, Duffey, with his huge stage personality, was intimidating.
Remembering that day, Simpkins said, “I did not want to be late, but I did not want to be early. So, I got there way ahead of time, and I kept an eye on John’s house to see who else got there.
“And I noticed this other car down the street. That person was just sitting there and would ease the car up closer to John’s as the time drew near. And I came to find out it was Dudley. So, we timed it until Ben got there, and we all went in together.”
Simpkins takes Connell’s retirement as a continuation of the band’s legacy: “The band has always transitioned.” Today he welcomes Clay Hess, a band leader and a former lead guitar player with Ricky Skaggs & Kentucky Thunder, who stepped in quickly when Connell, injured in a fall, was unable to play the last few shows of 2024.
As always, the Seldom Scene is committed to the same scalp-tingling vocals, remarkable song selection, and quirky, sometimes outrageous, stage shows that fill festival seats after five decades. Simpkins said, “I just feel blessed to be in this group … and to try to keep the same spirit the original guys had when they started out back in 1971.”
On the release of his last recording as a Seldom Scene member, Dudley Connell spoke to BGS about Remains to Be Scene, his musical career – starting in the 1970s – and his memories of some of the greatest characters in bluegrass.
The Seldom Scene has a tradition of pulling songs from everywhere and the latest recording is the same way. How do you decide on songs?
Dudley Connell: If you look back at the Scene’s recording career, all the way back to the original guys, it was unique. John Duffey had very eclectic taste. He brought “Rider” into the band from the Grateful Dead. He brought “Sweet Baby James” in from James Taylor. And continuing that tradition, I brought in “Boots of Spanish Leather” by Bob Dylan and “Nadine” from Chuck Berry.
It’s interesting having a band of five people, all with slightly different tastes, but with commonality at the same time. So, that’s the way we’ve continued the work all the way through our 30 years together. Everybody would show up with a basketful of songs. Sometimes, Lou might bring a song in that he really liked and say to me, “I could hear you singing this more than me.” Likewise, I could say to Fred, “I really like this song, but I don’t think I could sing it as well as you could sing it.” And it worked that way really well.
How does a band stay together so long?
We, of course, spent a lot of time together, but we also spent a lot of time doing our own thing. Now, with [a band leader] like Bill Monroe or Ralph Stanley, they take the fee and then they give you whatever they want to pay you per show. But with the Scene, John [Duffey’s] feeling was that if you’re out there on the road and you’re doing the work, you deserve equal cut. So, everything we made was split equally. You could fly, you could drive, you could stay at the Waldorf Astoria, or you could stay at the Super Eight. It was your money to spend and to travel as you wanted.
I think it created a certain sense of camaraderie that continues to this day. Everybody’s getting paid the same, so everybody’s expected to do equal work, and it gives you a sense of belonging. There’s no boss, everybody has an equal say, and that was true from the very first rehearsal.
Every group you’ve been with has been known for exceptional harmonies. Can you talk about harmony a bit?
I think a musician’s greatest asset and greatest tool is his or her ears. If you’re singing a trio, you want the blend to be there. You don’t even have to actually know who’s singing what part. There’s a certain buzz you get when the harmony is just right, and you hit a chord just right, and everybody’s phrasing together, and their mouths are in the same sort of position. When that happens, this is just like magic.
Let’s go back to the Johnson Mountain Boy days, when I first met Richard Underwood. Richard learned to sing with me. When we sang together and I switched from lead to tenor on a chorus, you could hardly hear the switch. It came natural to him, because I’m the only person he ever sang with. You know, he later went on to become a great singer on his own right, but he was the first singer that I really worked with a lot on blending and making a pleasing sound.
Now, my experience with David McLaughlin was more organic, as it was with Don Rigsby. Don and David and I all grew up as disciples of the Stanley Brothers. They had such a tight blend.
Now a more challenging partner for me was Hazel Dickens. Hazel and I toured quite a bit together in the ’70s and ’80s. But Hazel had a completely different sort of approach. Hazel was full bore, wide open all the time, and sometimes she could get just a little bit pitchy. I looked at it as my job to try to keep her close to the melody. It was great for me, because it taught me how to blend and also how to pull her to the proper pitch when necessary.
When I came to work with The Scene, it was completely different. They were all about the harmony.
What are your memories of The Scene before you joined them?
The Scene were a huge influence on everybody in D.C. The Scene was almost like a gateway drug to bluegrass music. They were largely playing for urban audiences in the early days, and a lot of young people really responded to it. In fact, The Seldom Scene record Live at the Cellar Door almost has cult-like status. When I was a teenager, we’d go to each other’s houses to listen to music. Right next to Led Zeppelin and Jimi Hendrix and Bob Dylan would be The Seldom Scene Live at the Cellar Door.
I think what made that record so absolutely deserving of cult status is that it’s really freewheeling, it’s really the band live. It’s not just the music and the wonderful singing, the wonderful song selection. It’s also the playfulness with the audience.
As far as I was concerned, John Duffey was The Scene. It wasn’t just that he was a great singer and instrumentalist, but also he had this gift – presenting the music to all kinds of different audiences. You couldn’t not respond to John Duffey or his emcee work – or his pants, for that matter. An interesting thing about John that a lot of people don’t realize is that he was actually kind of shy, kind of insecure. This bigger-than-life character that emerged on stage – I’m not saying that it was phony. It really was John. But when he walked on stage, it was like a switch kicked on, and he became a great entertainer and a great communicator.
I think people who weren’t familiar with bluegrass, it put them at ease a little bit. It drew a lot of people in who maybe wouldn’t have paid attention to a banjo or a Dobro. All entertainers feed off audiences. If you’ve got a really lively, energetic audience, you pour a lot of that back. If the audience feels more relaxed, you slow down a little bit with your delivery and your introductions. And John was an absolute master of that. I learned a lot about presenting a show from my year with John.
And how did you come to play with The Scene?
The Johnson Mountain Boys were on their way out. I’d done a little bit of work with Longview by this time. Then I got this notice in the mail that T. Michael Coleman, Mike Auldridge, and Moondi Kline were leaving the Scene and forming a band called Chesapeake. And it was sort of assumed that the Scene were going to dissolve. I knew John well enough and I called him on the phone and said, “John, I’m really sorry to hear about this. It sounds like the end of an era.”
And he said in the off-the-cuff, John Duffey style of talk, “Well, we’re really not dissolving the band. We’re just looking for a lead singer, guitar player, tenor singer, bass player, baritone singer, Dobro player.” You know, basically replacing three-fifths of the band. I don’t know where it came from, because I really had not called John looking for a job, but after he told me what he was looking for, I said, “Well, John, let’s get together and sing sometime.” Complete silence.
After the initial silence, he said, “Well, do you know of any of our stuff?”
So, I went over to John’s, and Ronnie was there, and Fred. John had given me about half a dozen songs to learn and when I look back at it now, he was testing me. He wanted to see if I could sing harmony parts over and under him. By that time, I’d had the experience with Hazel and had sung with a lot of different people. I was ready.
So, we started these Wednesday rehearsals and we’d done this for about two or three months in preparation for our debut – New Year’s Eve at The Birchmere, 1995. By the time it actually came to play our first show. I was really, really into it. And it was one of the toughest shows I think I ever played, because all the original guys were there – John Starling, Mike Auldridge, Tom Gray. Lou Reid was there, too. And I’m thinking, “I don’t know, man. I don’t know if I belong in this – with these people that I’ve listened to for years.”
One of the things I remember was our opening song, “Our Last Goodbye,” which is this old Stanley Brothers song. I had worn these baggy chino kind of pants and I was so grateful that I didn’t wear tight pants because my legs were literally shaking, and I didn’t want anybody to see that.
So, it was a very exciting night, and after that we had a year with John.
You were quite young when you formed the Johnson Mountain Boys. Can you tell us about those years?
I came along at a very fortunate time in the Washington, D.C. area in the ’70s, and actually on through the ’80s as well. You could see bluegrass every night of the week between Washington and Baltimore.
Now, I’m not going to tell you that the places were swank and nice. They were kind of seedy bars. But when I look back on it now I think that was actually a very beneficial thing for us. We were young, we were very enthusiastic about the music, and we could go into these bars and play four or five sets ’til, you know, one or two in the morning … and then go play another one the next night. So, by the time that the ’80s rolled around and we started actually playing festivals for larger crowds, we were pretty well rehearsed.
I found that the musicians that we met, like Del McCoury and Bill Harrell and a lot of the acts around Washington, embraced us because we were doing something different – actually doing something [traditional bluegrass] that had been done before, but we were kids doing it.
Ben Eldridge– the first time I ever met him, we were playing this indoor bluegrass event. Ben came over and said, “I wish I was doing what you guys are doing.” I know that he was kidding me, but the point being that he really respected the traditional stuff. He said it because he was very sweet man and very kind man. But I think there was some truth in that, too.
How much time was there between you playing in the two bands?
We actually intertwined for just a little bit. When we got off the road full-time in 1988, we were kind of burned out. I went back to college. David [McLaughlin] started selling real estate. Eddie [Stubbs] went to work with his father and we just sort of drifted apart, personally and musically.
Now, we did get together and play some in the ’90s and we produced a record that was nominated for a GRAMMY, Blue Diamond. But that was not like the previous Johnson Mountain Boy records. So, The Seldom Scene coming along at that time in my life, when I was curious about experimenting with different kinds of music, was perfect.
They played a lot locally and I was working full-time for the Smithsonian and didn’t want to travel very much. And the Scene, to this day, has followed that model. We don’t get on the tour bus and go out for weeks at a time. It reminds me of the reason John Duffey left the Country Gentleman. He said he got tired of saving up to go on tour. I understand what he meant. They were just going out trying to get their name out there. The Johnson Mountain Boys did the same thing. I remember once we drove to Florida to play for 900 bucks for three days.
That’s another thing that John did, he just set the price to where it made it worth his while to go. Here’s a kind of famous John Duffey story: A promoter in California called John and said, “I really, really like what you’re doing, and I’d like to get you out here to California.” John said, “Great! Make me an offer.” The promoter said, “Will 500 bucks do it?”
John thought for a minute and said, “Which one of us do you want?”
I’d like to talk a bit about your career as an archivist. Did you go to school to learn that?
Actually, I didn’t. After the Johnson Mountain Boys got off the road, I went back to college. One of my classes was Career Development. There were a lot of people around my age who were looking for a change in their work and their livelihoods.
One of my assignments was to interview someone that I thought had a really interesting job. So, I chose to interview the curator and the director of Smithsonian Folkways records. His name was Tony Seeger, and yes, he is a part of the Mike and Pete Seeger world. The Smithsonian had just acquired Folkways Records. I went into the interview asking Tony how he got his job, what his educational background was, how he ended up at Smithsonian Folkways, what his life was like. About halfway through the interview, he started asking me about my background and what I’ve been doing.
Before I left his office, he basically hired me to come in and try to figure out how to how to keep Folkways alive.
And then you did archive work for another organization?
It’s called the National Council for the Traditional Arts. Since 1933 they have put on folk festivals with all kinds of ethnic and roots music. They started recording all the festivals in 1972. When I got there, they were just quite a thing of beauty – 5,000 hours of one-of-a-kind recordings in a non-climate-controlled room. So, I went to work there, preserving the recordings. And oddly enough, the very first that I put up to digitize was Alison Krauss. I thought, “I think I found the right place.” I worked there for 19 years.
Why retire now, and what’s next?
My wife, Sally, had retired from 40 years at the Smithsonian’s Natural History Museum. I had retired from the National Council for Traditional Arts. This would have been the end of 2023, so I was still traveling on the weekends.
During the pandemic, we got a dog named Woody. It’s almost like having a child in the house. He was adopted and he was afraid of everything, so we spent a lot of time with him. Before that, Sally used to travel with me everywhere and it got to be that she had to stay home and take care of the dog when I was out on the road. I wanted to have time to travel, to Europe and to different places that I’d not really been able to explore. I think it’s a misconception some people have about a traveling musician: “Wow, you got to go to all these great, cool places. You must have seen a lot.”
Well, I saw a lot of hotel rooms. I saw a lot of backstages, but I didn’t see some of the things these towns are known for. What Sally and I want to do now is, while we’re in reasonably good health and while we can still get around well on our feet, we want to do some traveling and not be restricted by a schedule.
Favorite memories?
Marrying Sally, definitely a favorite memory. In the ’80s, an organization called the United States Information Agency USA had a subgroup called Arts America. They created cultural exchanges with third world countries. I got to travel to Southern Africa and later Southeast Asia. You can’t buy that kind of education. It’s quite an eye opening event. I remember coming back from those trips and having a different way of looking at my lifestyle and where I live and how fortunate we are.
Another highlight was getting to meet my heroes and finding out that they were really nice people who didn’t want anything more than to see me and our bands, whether it be the Seldom Scene or the Johnson Mountain Boys, succeed. I never felt any jealousy or any animosity, you know, toward us, these young upstarts. In the ’70s and ’80s, everybody knew everybody, and everybody wanted everybody else to succeed.
But probably the biggest thing was having a year with John Duffey and many years with Ben Eldridge; hearing their stories, the hardships, and the fun stuff and the silliness that happens on the road. All those things are highlights for me.
Closing thoughts?
The music of the Scene is completely unique to anything else in the bluegrass world. I think the Scene could follow just about anybody. We followed Alison Krauss and we followed Ricky Skaggs, and I never really felt uptight about our performance following these major acts, because nobody else does what the Scene does. That’s true with Clay Hess taking my place, too. I’ve heard some of their performances on Facebook – sounds like the Seldom Scene to me.
I feel like I’ve lived a very full life. It’s like when Tony Trischka was asked, “Tony, have you been playing banjo all your life?” He answered, “Not yet.”
That’s the way I feel about music – I’m not done yet.
Our partnership with our friends at Real Roots Radio in Southwestern Ohio concludes as we wind down our weekly celebration of Women’s History Month. We’re proud to have brought you four collections of a variety of powerful women in bluegrass, country, Americana, folk, and elsewhere who have been featured on Real Roots Radio’s airwaves each weekday in March, highlighting the outsized impact women have on American roots music. You can listen to Real Roots Radio online 24/7 or via their FREE app for smartphones or tablets. If you’re based in Ohio, tune in via 100.3 (Xenia, Dayton, Springfield), 106.7 (Wilmington), or 105.5 (Eaton).
American roots music, historically and currently, has often been regarded as a male-dominated space. It’s certainly true of the music industry in general and these more down-home musics are no exception. Thankfully, American roots music and its many offshoots, branches, and associated folkways include hundreds and thousands of women who have greatly impacted these art forms, altering the courses of roots music history. Some are relatively unknown – or underappreciated or unsung – and others are global phenomena or household names.
Over the last few weeks, radio host Daniel Mullins, who together with BGS and Good Country staff has curated the series, has brought you just a few examples of women in roots music from all levels of notoriety and stature. Week one featured Dottie West, Gail Davies, and more. Week two shone a spotlight on Big Mama Thornton, Crystal Gayle, Rose Maddox, and more. Week three, paid tribute to Emmylou Harris, Wild Rose, Mother Maybelle, and more. This final installment of the series celebrates Laurie Lewis, the Coon Creek Girls, Amanda Smith, Sister Rosetta Tharpe, Petticoat Junction, and Jeannie Seely.
Plus, you can find two playlists below – one centered on bluegrass, the other on country – with dozens of songs from countless women artists, performers, songwriters, and instrumentalists who effortlessly demonstrate how none of these roots genres would exist without women.
Laurie Lewis (b. 1950)
A GRAMMY-winning singer, songwriter, and fiddler, Laurie Lewis is a California native who has been blazing trails in bluegrass for over four decades. She became enamored with folk music after attending the Berkeley Folk Festival in her youth – she has since made an indelible mark on American roots music with her work in bluegrass and beyond!
Whether leading her band, Laurie Lewis & The Right Hands, performing solo, or collaborating with her pal Kathy Kallick – with whom she helped found the Good Ol’ Persons in 1970s, pushing norms in the process – Laurie’s soulful vocals and skilled fiddle work have made her a standout in bluegrass for a lifetime. Her songwriting paints vivid pictures of love, loss, and the land, while her honest voice pulls at the heartstrings, earning her two IBMA Female Vocalist of the Year awards.
Her recording of “Who Will Watch the Home Place” was named IBMA’s Song of the Year in 1994 and has touched hearts for generations. It’s a certified bluegrass classic and is still a staple on bluegrass radio programs. Another beloved composition, “Love Chooses You,” has been recorded by Laurie, Jeannie Kendall, Kathy Mattea, and more.
Laurie Lewis isn’t just a performer – she’s a mentor, a producer, and a keeper of the bluegrass flame, not only by encouraging the next generation of bluegrass music makers, but also by shining a light on significant voices of the past like Vern & Ray and Hazel & Alice. This West Coast bluegrass leader was honored by the IBMA with their Distinguished Achievement Award in 2024.
We’re heading back to the 1930s with an all-female string band that made history, the one and only Coon Creek Girls! It was 1937 when talent scout and radio pioneer John Lair formed the Coon Creek Girls for the Renfro Valley Barn Dance radio show on the airwaves of Cincinnati’s WLW. Led by the talented Lily May Ledford on banjo alongside her sister Rosie, Esther Koehler, and Evelyn Lange, these ladies brought high-energy mountain music to the masses.
Their popularity on radio brought opportunities to tour around the Midwest and even record in Chicago. They didn’t just play, they broke barriers! In 1939, First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt selected the Coon Creek Girls to perform at the White House for President Franklin D. Roosevelt and the King and Queen of England. A hillbilly band of women? Unheard of at the time! But they proved talent knows no boundaries.
The Coon Creek Girls would be an influence on folks like Cathy Fink, Suzanne Edmondson (of The Hot Mud Family and Dry Branch Fire Squad), and even Pete Seeger. While the historic group would disband in the 1950s, John Lair would revive their legacy decades later by helping pull together another all-female bluegrass band to again perform at the Renfro Valley Barn Dance (which had relocated to Mount Vernon, Kentucky, becoming a popular country music tourist destination for decades). With the blessing of Lily May Ledford, this new act was called The New Coon Creek Girls and would make music consistently for nearly twenty years, helping springboard the careers of Pam Perry and Pamela Gadd (of Wild Rose), Wanda Barnett, Vicki Simmons, Deanie Richardson, Dale Ann Bradley, and more.
The Coon Creek Girls inspired generations, proving women belonged in country and bluegrass. Their legacy lives on in every banjo-pickin’ girl who follows in their footsteps!
Amanda Smith’s voice soars like the mountains of West Virginia from which she comes. She has been a force in the bluegrass world for years. Amanda met her husband Kenny in the mid ’90s at a Lonesome River Band concert (he was playing guitar with LRB at the time). Not only did Kenny fall in love with Amanda, but he fell in love with her voice as well.
Kenny would leave LRB at the turn-of-the-century and he and Amanda would form the renowned Kenny & Amanda Smith Band, a duo celebrated for their tight harmonies and masterful musicianship. They were named Emerging Artist of the Year by the IBMA in 2003 and they haven’t slowed down since. With a sound built on Amanda’s gripping vocals and Kenny’s exquisite guitar work, they have been a staple of the bluegrass world for nearly twenty-five years, racking up many #1 hits on bluegrass radio and frequently seen on stages across the country – both as a duo and with the Kenny & Amanda Smith Band.
Their band has also introduced bluegrass audiences to some of the top pickers of today’s generation, including Jason Davis, Zachary McLamb, Cory Piatt, and Alan Bartram (Amanda’s brother-in-law). Whether delivering beautiful ballads or bluegrass barnburners, Amanda’s voice is one of the most beloved in the genre today, leading to multiple awards, including the IBMA Female Vocalist of the Year honor in 2014. From festival stages to radio waves, Amanda Smith continues to leave a lasting mark on bluegrass.
The Godmother of Rock ‘n’ Roll, Sister Rosetta Tharpe was one of the most influential artists of the 20th century. Born in 1915, Tharpe was shredding on an electric guitar before rock even had a name! With a gospel heart and a rock and roll soul, she fused spirituals with electrifying riffs, paving the way for Chuck Berry, Elvis, and even Jimi Hendrix. Her hit, “Strange Things Happening Every Day,” was one of the first gospel songs to cross over to mainstream charts and is pointed to by many as the first rock and roll record, proving that faith and fiery licks could share the stage.
The juxtaposition of performing her powerful gospel songs in smoky barrooms is the stuff of legend. Her gospel hits like “This Train,” “Down by the Riverside,” “Up Above My Head,” and “The Lonesome Road” are still revered and helped shape the musical identity of artists as diverse as Johnny Cash, Elvis Presley, Tina Turner, Jerry Lee Lewis, Rhiannon Giddens, and more. Despite being a woman in a male-dominated industry, she didn’t just break barriers – she smashed them! Sister Rosetta Tharpe was posthumously inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2018.
A bluegrass festival mainstay of the ’80s and ’90s, Petticoat Junction was a popular all-female traditional bluegrass band that helped open doors for some of today’s “girl groups” like Della Mae and Sister Sadie. In fact, there are several direct connections between Sister Sadie and Petticoat Junction. Not only was Sadie banjoist Gena Britt a member of Petticoat Junction (primarily playing bass), but reigning IBMA Female Vocalist of the Year Jaelee Roberts has followed in her mother’s footsteps. Andrea Mullins Roberts was an anchor of Petticoat Junction’s sound with her rich, traditional voice and strong guitar playing before becoming a respected booking agent, manager, and behind-the-scenes businessperson in today’s bluegrass industry.
One of the most celebrated lineups of Petticoat Junction featured Robin Roller (banjo) and Gail Rudisill-Johnson (fiddle) alongside the aforementioned Andrea and Gena. This particular four-piece ensemble released a pair of great albums for Pinecastle Records in the early ’90s, in addition to touring heavily at festivals from coast-to-coast. Deriving their name from the popular ’60s sitcom (whose theme song would be a hit for Flatt & Scruggs), their heartfelt vocals and instrumental prowess shone brightly, whether on original songs or on material from the likes of Jimmy Martin, Reno & Smiley, Flatt & Scruggs, and more.
In addition to continuing to open avenues for other all-women bands, Petticoat Junction’s influence is still being felt in the 21st century as they’ve influenced acts like Flatt Lonesome and Starlett & Big John.
From the bright lights of the Grand Ole Opry to the heart of country music, today we’re tipping our hats to “Miss Country Soul,” Jeannie Seely! Born in Pennsylvania, but a Nashville star through and through, Jeannie Seely made history in 1966 with her Grammy-winning hit “Don’t Touch Me,” an envelope-pushing and controversial song due to its featuring a woman expressing sexual desires. With her bold style, unmistakable voice, and trailblazing spirit, she became a beloved icon in country music.
Seely shattered barriers, becoming the first performer to wear a miniskirt on the Opry stage (among other fashion trends she helped bring to country music), being the first woman to host an Opry segment, and fiercely advocating for women in country. Jeannie’s also a respected country music songwriter, writing hits like “Leavin’ and Sayin’ Goodbye” (Faron Young), “He’s All I Need” (Dottie West), “Enough to Lie” (Ray Price), and more; folks like Merle Haggard, Rhonda Vincent, Connie Smith, Ernest Tubb, and Little Jimmy Dickens have recorded her songs over the years.
More than 50 years later, Jeannie is still gracing the Grand Ole Opry stage, holding the record for the most Opry performances ever – 5,200+ appearances and counting! Just as Dottie West encouraged her when she was a young country artist, Jeannie is constantly investing in the future of country as a dear friend and mentor to her Opry sisters, like Carly Pearce and Rhonda Vincent, and even to the young bluegrass band, Cutter & Cash and The Kentucky Grass. She proves that true country never fades. So here’s to Jeannie Seely – an icon, a trailblazer, and a country legend who continues to shine!
Photo Credit: Sister Rosetta Tharpe from the Michael Ochs Archives; Jeannie Seely by Cyndi Hornsby; Laurie Lewis by Irene Young.
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