The String – Caroline Spence plus Lee Roy Parnell

Caroline Spence moved to Nashville eight years ago fresh out of college with a “vague dream” of writing songs — probably, she thought, for other artists. But as her network and her confidence grew, it became clear she needed to be out front.

LISTEN: APPLE PODCASTS

Spence has released two solo indie albums and a duo project with Robby Hecht. She also won a Kerville New Folk award, capturing attention with her coursing country melodies and incisive observations. Now she’s been signed to Rounder Records, who’ve released her latest, Mint Condition. Also in the hour, a catch-up with Texas-reared, Nashville-based country bluesman Lee Roy Parnell.

The Show On The Road – Bobby Rush

At 85 years old, Bobby Rush has been playing his brand of lovably raunchy, acoustically crunchy, and soulfully rowdy blues for over six decades.

Listen: APPLE MUSIC • MP3

Starting from his days as part of the Southern migration from his hometown of Homer, Louisiana, to the South Side of Chicago — where he used to have Muddy Waters himself sub for him when he couldn’t do a gig — Bobby Rush, who won his first Grammy at the humble age of 83, has no plans of slowing down.

The String – Colin Linden

Colin Linden – guitarist, singer, songwriter and producer – is one of Nashville’s most interesting musicians. You may have seen him in the Americana Awards house band, or as a key live musician on the TV series Nashville or in the dynamic Canadian country rock band Blackie and the Rodeo Kings.

LISTEN: APPLE MUSIC

He wasn’t born into the blues but he sure found the music early and made it his own, through a very early meeting with Howlin Wolf and a pilgrimage through the Deep South in his teens. He’s also been a long-time band leader and producer for Bruce Cockburn. We talk about all that, as well as the project he’s just completed with fellow blues musician Luther Dickinson and others, a suite of vintage love songs called Amour. Plus, a visit with the new owner and proprietor of a revived historic studio in Nashville, the former home of Cowboy Jack Clement.

Susan Tedeschi on Evolving, Encouragement, and Electric Guitar (Part 2 of 2)

Susan Tedeschi may stand in the center of the Tedeschi Trucks Band but she is quick to give ample credit to her fellow bandmates for setting the right tone on the bus and on the road. With a new album, Signs, she certainly shines as a vocalist and an instrumentalist — and that confidence comes through in conversation, too. Engaged with the world around her, she’s quick to talk about the need to evolve, the encouragement she gives and receives in the music, and the common thread that runs through all 12 members of the Grammy-winning ensemble.

Editor’s Note: Read the first part of our Artist of the Month interview with Derek Trucks. Both interviews were conducted before the death of band keyboardist Kofi Burbridge in February.

BGS: Listening to this record, it was like a reminder of why the word “band” is an important part of this project. On that first track, everybody has a moment – all the vocalists and the musicians. Why did “Signs, Hard Times” seem like the right song to lead this album?

Tedeschi: Basically for exactly what you just said. It’s letting everybody hear a little bit about who the band is. Also, there’s a lot going on right now. And also, there are a lot of obvious signs, whether it’s political or environmental, or just living. So it seemed to fit.

Do you all get into heavy conversations on the bus? There are some topical songs on this record. Does that carry over on the road?

Oh yeah, a lot. This is such an interesting time for me. I was born in 1970 so I’ve seen a lot of different presidents come and go, and a lot of different mindsets and people who think a certain way. And I just can’t believe that this is going on now, in 2019, almost 2020. I feel like, “Come on, people, we can do better than this. We can evolve.” I just feel like we need to evolve as a species. I feel like we’re not keeping up with technology, we’re not keeping up with science and facts. It’s people and their egos that are in power, that are running things and not using common sense. It just doesn’t make sense.

This album has some heavy songs, but there are also messages of encouragement. I’m thinking of songs like “Still Your Mind.” Even as you’re presenting that message to your audience, does it resonate with you as well? Kind of telling yourself to hang in there?

Yeah, that’s a song that Derek wrote. He’s a very Zen character in real life, so it makes sense that he would write that. He’s very good at steering the ship and being a great captain to all of us, and keeping us eyes-forward and moving ahead, and being positive and learning to breathe and take your time. The lyrics of that are really encouraging and positive.

And it started instrumentally. I think Kofi was playing some of the piano stuff at soundcheck and then Derek started playing some of that stuff and it formed organically. Derek started to write words to it and would bring pieces to me and ask, ‘What do you think of this?’ I would say, ‘Oh, that’s great!’ or ‘Maybe move these words around….’ But I tried not to do much because I wanted him to have that tune.

We try to do that a lot with each other. Derek, Mike Mattison and I write most of the songs, but Mike wrote a lot for this record. I mean, he is our scholar so we put him to work. He’s got ideas for days, and it’s amazing because it shows the range of his writing. He’s got a song like “Hard Case,” which is really light and fun, and then you have a song like “Strengthen What Remains,” which is really melancholy and sad, but at the same time, real hopeful. He also write “They Don’t Shine,” which sounds like a pop hit. He has a lot of a different angles in his writing.

I read that you started playing electric guitar in your 20s. Were you playing acoustic before that?

Yeah, I played acoustic growing up, starting at 14 or 15. My dad gave me one of his old Martins when I was about 15 for Christmas one year and I cried because I was so excited. I wrote a bunch of songs on that, and that’s when I first started songwriting. I didn’t play electric guitar until I was about 22 or 23. I had graduated college at 20, so I was out of college for a couple of years before I ever picked up a guitar, other than acoustic. I was playing acoustic at shows but it was more folky and songwriter-y kind of stuff.

Then I fell in love with blues. I had some friends who used to play at Johnny D’s in Somerville, Massachusetts, every Sunday for the blues jam. They needed singers so they asked me to come down, and then I realized, “Well, shoot, this would be a great place to try out playing the guitar.” There weren’t a lot of people there and it was pretty chill, so that’s what I did. I would go down and sing a few tunes, then I’d start playing rhythm. I never really soloed for the first couple of years on electric. I just wanted to learn to learn how to play rhythm and play along with stuff so I could try to accompany myself while singing.

I played along with a lot of Freddie King and Johnny Guitar Watson and Otis Rush and Magic Sam – and I fell in love with blues. I wore out Big Mama Thornton’s Hound Dog record and Koko Taylor and all sorts of stuff. I fell in love with it and I realized, “This is what I want to do. I want to be Freddie King and Johnny Guitar Watson!” It’s funny because I did a tour with Etta James and she asked me, “Who are your influences? Who do you want to be?” I said, “I want to be Johnny Guitar Watson.” And she said, “Ah! That’s who I want to be!” [Laughs]

For guitarists who look up to you, can you give advice on how to play tastefully?

Yeah! Well, for one, don’t play real loud unless you know what you’re doing. A lot of people plow through as loud as they can. It’s like, “What are you doing? That’s not music. You’ve got to blend with the people you’re playing with.” Another thing is to actually play along with records. I did that a lot and it was very beneficial. I can’t get over how much you can learn by playing along with records and listening, so that’s some pretty good advice.

Another thing is, try not to just play riffs. If you’re trying to solo, don’t be like, ‘Oh, I love this riff and I’m going to fit it in here.’ Work on stuff and practice stuff, and then have it be in your arsenal. But think about singing a melody, like you’re trying to tell a story, if you’re going to solo. I mean, I’m still learning how to do all this stuff. I am by no means a badass guitar player. I always have so much to learn, and it’s amazing being able to be in a band with Derek because he’s one of the best.

I just feel like there’s so much to learn on guitar. You can never learn it all. Don’t think you know it all because you don’t. And listen to people like Ralph Towner. They’ll blow your mind, like, “What the heck? That’s one guy playing all those parts?” So, I enjoy it but I know my limits and my strengths on guitar. But I feel like I can sing anything. I’ve been able to sing a lot of different styles of music. I feel very blessed that way. So I’m just learning to get proficient on guitar like I am vocally.

I like the fact that this band has black musicians and white musicians, older musicians and younger musicians, men and women – it looks like the world we live in, you know?

It is, absolutely.

You have 12 people working together every night. Is there a common thread that runs through all of you?

Yeah. We love each other. [Laughs] Everybody’s a good person and communicates well and cares about each other and has respect for each other. Musically we come from a bunch of different backgrounds but we all love blues and gospel and soul music. Some people love jazz, some people love country or bluegrass. There are a lot of different places that people are pulling from. Everybody’s educating everybody all the time in different areas, which is really cool.

And we just like hanging out. We like to go eat together, do laundry together. We’re on the road like a married couple – and we’re actually a married couple and they put up with us, so that’s pretty rad. It’s a really special band, and you know, there is something to that – where people come and see our band and see the variety up there and how we live together and travel the world together. People see us coming!


Photo credit: Shervin Laivez
Illustration: Zachary Johnson

Derek Trucks on Analog, Allman Brothers Band, and Aging Well (1 of 2)

With Tedeschi Trucks Band, you get a partnership. That impressive ability to divide and conquer serves them well on stage, with Susan Tedeschi nailing the vocals and tearing up the guitar, along with Derek Trucks calmly proving his own guitar proficiency. That’s not to mention the other 10 musicians that make this one of the most potent groups on the road right now, as evidenced by their newest album, Signs. (Incidentally, the conversation took place shortly before the death of longtime keyboard player Kofi Burbridge, who passed in February.)

To begin our Artist of the Month interviews, Derek took the phone first — yet frequently praised Susan throughout the conversation, especially her ability to captivate a crowd. Before passing the phone over, he also dug into his preference for analog recording, his history with the Allman Brothers Band, and the reason why age doesn’t really matter.

BGS: I know you recorded this album on two-inch analog tape and you have that Neve console. Why is it important for you to use that vintage gear?

Trucks: I think every time you record, you’re searching for that sound you hear in your head, and what you hear live on the floor. I feel like the more analog we go, the closer we’re getting to that. This is definitely the warmest recording we’ve done to date. You know, I think the beauty of having a studio is that you’re always working toward that and you don’t have to reset and start from scratch every single time.

And there’s something about recording to tape that focuses everybody a little bit differently. You don’t have unlimited tracks, you don’t have unlimited space, and it becomes a little more performance-based. Everything seems to mean a little bit more. Every reel of tape is important! You don’t have a hard drive to fill up, so it’s a different feel all the way around. And it slows things down in a good way. I think it really does put everybody’s head in a different spot.

What does that room look like?

We designed it visually thinking about Levon Helm’s band up in Woodstock. It’s a few hundred feet from our house in the swamp down here in Florida. It’s barn-shaped and the main recording room is a pretty good-sized room. When we rehearse with the 12-piece band, everyone’s set up in the main room. But it’s a bunch of vintage gear and old Fender amps. There’s a few drum kits in there and a B3 set up at all times. You know, it’s ready for action!

Speaking of those drum kits, I noticed at your show that you tour with two drummers. What’s the benefit of that?

There’s something special about that sound, man. It’s a powerful thing when you get those guys playing. The pulse gets really, really thick. When the whole band is firing, it feels like a freight train behind you. I think after years of being on stage with my uncle [Butch Trucks] and Jaimoe [the Allman Brothers’ drummer] and the Allman Brothers, when it really works and it’s really good, there is nothing quite like it. So when we put this band together, I was certainly thinking about those guys and that sound.

The chemistry really has to work when you have two drummers. It can be a freight train or it can be a train wreck! [Laughs] It can be really bad. I’ve been in situations where there have been two drummers and it’s a “less is more” situation sometimes. But Tyler [Greenwell] and JJ [Johnson] have a special chemistry. They really listen hard to each other and complement each other well, and they have a sound that is completely unique to the two of them. It’s a big part of what makes the band unique, I think.

At risk of being too heavy, what’s that experience like when you don’t have Gregg on stage, or knowing that you aren’t going to play with Butch anymore? Was that hard for you to process?

I don’t know if I ever thought of it that way so much. I played with them for so many years and I was always doing my solo groups and other things at the same time, so there were always a few different streams. I knew it wouldn’t be forever, so that part wasn’t a shock, but more recently we started playing a few of those tunes from time to time, and it definitely hits me now. Especially when we’re playing the Beacon Theater or some of these rooms I’ve played with [the Allman Brothers Band] so many times. You certainly miss them, and you miss that sound and that spirit. When we’re making records, there are certain times when for some reason I’ll be thinking about them. They were family, they were friends, and they were musical heroes, too. Those are big losses and I think it takes a while to unpack that stuff.

I’ve heard you and Susan both talk about being “a lifer.” How would you describe what that means?

I was thinking about Del McCoury this morning when I knew I’d be doing this article. It’s the people that you just know are going to be playing and touring and making people feel good as long as they’re on the planet. The Allmans, B.B. King, Willie Nelson –there are thousands of musicians who play in small clubs that are that way. You just know once you start doing it. I knew when I started in my pre-teens. Once I got serious about it, I always got that feeling like, ‘This is what I’m going to be doing. Whether it’s successful or not, I don’t think it’s going to matter.’ [Laughs]

And the beauty of what we do is that we can do it forever. I think about professional athletes sometimes and how they give everything to their sport — and by the time they’re 30, they’re washed up. We’re incredibly fortunate. We can play into our 90s. There are guys out there doing it.

What is it about Del McCoury that you admire?

He’s one of those personalities, man. You just see him and you immediately love him before you meet him. Then you meet him and you love him more. [Laughs] And there’s something to a guy who keeps his family with him. It helps that his family members are incredibly talented too. It says a lot about somebody when music and family intersect like that, and it becomes a way of life. There’s something that really speaks to me about that.

And his sound — I don’t think there’s anyone alive who’s doing it better. Every time I hear those guys, it just makes you feel good. It gives you a little hope. It is authentic and really, really good on every level, and that dude has it in a headlock. We love him. He’s fearless, man. He’ll jump up with anyone. He’s sat in with our band. He’s not a guy that won’t go outside of his genre. Del will step on in.

That’s an interesting point because I don’t think your band can be categorized as one certain thing — you fit in a lot of places, too. That must be a great feeling to not be locked into a certain style.

Yeah, I’ve always appreciated that about this band, and my solo band as well. We were always kind of half-accepted and half-shunned by every genre. They’d put us on a blues festival and we’d hear ‘You all aren’t blues enough.’ Or in the early days, the jam band festivals, but we weren’t jam band enough. Or jazz… they let us in all of them a little bit, but no one would fully accept us, which I appreciate because that’s where my tastes have always been. I think it’s what I naturally come from, so I never minded it.

In the early days, it was a little more difficult because when you get accepted by a certain scene, it makes it a little easier to tour, and there are certainly benefits to that. But I like being able to bounce around, and in the course of a month, play a festival for four or five different genres of music. It makes you a better player because everywhere you go, you hear things that you wouldn’t have heard or known. You see incredibly talented musicians that maybe you weren’t aware of. That makes you double down on what you’re doing when you see somebody new.

I remember the first time seeing Jerry Douglas and thinking, “All right…” [Laughs] “Well, there’s that!” I think it’s important to listen wide.

It’s remarkable to me how poised you are when you play guitar. You make it look easy while some guitarists put their whole body into it. Is that the way you’ve always played, just stand and deliver?

Yeah, and at different times, especially early on when I was a kid playing, I would get people almost every night coming up and asking, “Why aren’t you smiling? Aren’t you having fun?” [Laughs] It’s like, “I’m taking this shit serious, people!” I’ve never had a stage presence that’s going to bring people to the show. I’ve had to do it another way. I don’t know… some of it is just your personality, mainly.

But I remember seeing pictures of Duane Allman as a kid and I always imagined him standing there, getting it done. And I remember seeing footage of John Coltrane when I was in my early teens, just black-and-white footage around the Kind of Blue sessions. He was stepping up and taking a solo, and the look on his face — it just felt really important. It hit me, like, “That’s what I’m after.”

Editor’s Note: Read our Artist of the Month interview with Susan Tedeschi.


Photo credit: Shervin Laivez
Illustration: Zachary Johnson

ARTIST OF THE MONTH: Tedeschi Trucks Band

Our March AOTM is Tedeschi Trucks Band: the powerhouse ensemble that just delivered their newest album, Signs. During a tour stop in Nashville, the blues-inspired band zeroed in on the vibe in the room without concern for over-the-top stage effects or eye-catching set design. As Derek Trucks explains it, “I think our MO is always that – it’s always the music and the musicality. That comes first and everything else is in service of that.”

Next week, BGS will post back-to-back interviews on the band – as Susan Tedeschi and Derek Truck both share their perspectives on the new music, as well as the foundations that have brought them here. Although they both pay attention to politics, they had a different idea in mind with Signs. As Tedeschi explains:

“I feel like I have a lot of responsibility being in front but I don’t feel like it’s my position to be political. I feel like it’s more my place to make people feel good. So I try to help people with the stress of everyday life and all of these problems. And I try to make music that is hopeful, and try to make people feel. And if I am angry about something, or something’s going on that I think is really unjust, then I can throw it in there, in a song, or I might make a comment, like ‘Hey, help out your neighbors.’”

For now, get primed for the month ahead with a collection of some of their best work in our new Essential Tedeschi Trucks Band playlist on Spotify.


Illustration: Zachary Johnson

LISTEN: Roses and Cigarettes, “California Going Home”

Artist: Roses and Cigarettes
Hometown: Los Angeles, California
Song: “California Going Home”
Album: Echoes and Silence
Release Date: February 22, 2019

In Their Words: “‘California Going Home’ was written about a relationship that didn’t work out but the love there remains. Not everyone will stay forever and this song is about appreciating that person for who they are and where they are, even if it means your heart is broken in the process.” — Jenny Pagliaro

“This was the last song we wrote for the album. We were over at Jenny’s house, and we were talking about needing one more rockin’ song for the album. I sat on her couch and summoned Janis Joplin to help us out. The chords literally poured out from my hands. Jenny and I looked at each other and she immediately grabbed her phone, a pen, and we recorded the first draft. The song came together fairly quickly. Jenny created this beautiful scenery and imagery with her lyrics and I just love the story she tells in this song. We’ve all been there, and have felt those feelings before.

“We took a lot of inspiration from The Allman Brothers, John Mayer, and Susan Tedeschi for ‘California Going Home.’ After recording our debut album in 2015, I knew I wanted Album 2 to have a song with harmonizing guitar parts. I really had fun playing my Fender Telecaster on this track! Jenny and I both wanted a jam song and a sing-along on this album, and we are so thrilled with how this song turned out! Our producer and bassist, Michael Lyons, really dug deep to create a beautiful production on this song that truly grasps that down-home, sparkly, Americana vibe Jenny and I had envisioned when we wrote it. We were very honored to have Ryan Lipman mix this album, and he really hit it home on this track. Chris Lawrence (pedal steel,) Bobby Victor (keys,) and Vic Vanacore (drums/percussion,) completed the circle with their great energy and musical vibe in the studio to make the song a real jam! — Angela Petrilli


Photo credit: Rachel Louise Photography

16 Stories to Celebrate Black History Month

We’ve said it before, but it bears repeating: black history isn’t just American history, it’s American roots music history — they are inseparably intertwined. As such, one month out of the year simply cannot do this cause justice. To mark the occasion we’d like to travel back over a year’s worth of writing and reporting to revisit just a few of the incredible black artists, creators, and activists whose indispensable perspectives and awe-inspiring work moved us.

 

Angelique Kidjo’s reimagining of the Talking Heads’ landmark album, Remain in Light, was not only one of our top albums of 2018, it was the subject of an exhaustive deep dive for an edition of our Small World column, which points out the stunning amalgamations and consistencies that made the record a perfect vehicle for Kidjo’s singular talents and sensibilities.

 

For Canon Fodder, we examined the remarkable success of Tracy Chapman’s self-titled, debut album. In 1988, Chapman appeared as the culmination of pop’s newfound social engagement, and the record captures the sound of a young artist clinging to her optimism, even in the face of so much cynicism.

 

Our inaugural season of The Show On The Road, hosted by The Dustbowl Revival frontman Z. Lupetin, included many black voices, including husband-and-wife duo, Birds of Chicago. Their special brew of soulful rock and roll and goosebump-raising secular gospel is a much needed shot of pure positive energy.

 

Alt-folk singer/songwriter AHI answered five questions and gave us five songs to go with them in an edition of BGS 5+5 that touches on Bob Marley, Thunder Bay, and oh so much more.

 

Writer, storyteller, historian, and songster Dom Flemons released Black Cowboys in 2018, an album whose depth and breadth rivals that of a museum exhibition. For our Shout & Shine interview he unpacked the forgotten histories and untold stories of black identities that shaped the American “Wild West,” and thus, the country as a whole.

 

The Journey, the latest album from Benin native, guitarist Lionel Loueke, tells stories of migration historic and modern, with musical textures and flavors that demonstrate our world — musically, culturally, and otherwise — is entirely interconnected. We featured Loueke in our Small World column.

 

Guitarist and songwriter Sunny War gave us a stripped-down, stunning rendition of “He Is My Cell” for a Sitch Session, showcasing her unique picking approach and the complicated emotions channeled through her writing.

 

Kaïa Kater’s most recent album, Grenades, was an exercise in self-love and self-learning. Our Cover Story unpacks how the project spans generations, hemispheres, and textures, and left the singer-songwriter “swimming in her own shadow.”

 

In 2018 we lost one of music’s brightest lights and most ethereal talents when Aretha Franklin passed. We did our best to tribute her everlasting legacy by diving into her best-selling album, Amazing Grace, for an edition of Canon Fodder.

 

Americana duo Nickel&Rose premiered their EP, aptly titled Americana, on BGS after being inspired by touring across Europe, noting the way international audiences reacted to and consumed American roots music. They offer their own personal musings on perseverance, loss, and compassion without empty promises that everything is going to be okay.

 

Charismatic, dynamite performers the War and Treaty (AKA Michael Trotter Jr. and Tanya Blount) told us the stories that led to the making of their latest album, Healing Tide — from the beginning, with a piano in Saddam Hussein’s palace basement, to the pair meeting at a festival, to the present, as their music and mission of love gain steam across the country.

 

In another edition of Small World, we take a look at cellist and songwriter Leyla McCalla’s brand new album, The Capitalist Blues, and the myriad themes and influences from around the globe that went into the writing, production, and execution of the songs and stories therein.

 

Gospel singer/songwriter Liz Vice balances intensely personal experiences with universal ideas like the Golden Rule on her album, Save Me, and our conversation with Vice gets into the nitty gritty of that balance and the personal growth and reckonings behind it.

 


Jerron “Blind Boy” Paxton made his case for why down home blues and old-time American music are not simply relics of bygone eras in his Shout & Shine interview. He is not merely a preservationist mining bygone decades for esoteric material or works that fit a certain aesthetic or brand. He simply takes music that is significant to his identity, his culture, and his experience and showcases it for a broader audience.

Host Craig Havighurst spent some time with Cedric Burnside on his podcast, The String, where they discuss the blues, soul, and regional folk’s growing influence and representation within the Americana community — as well as Burnside’s own commitment to the spread of Hill Country blues.

Legendary song-interpreter Bettye LaVette’s first major label release since 1982 focused on the work of one artist and songwriter, who just happens to be Bob Dylan. In our interview LaVette gives us a frank and engaging peek inside her mind: “Oh, honey, I am 72 years old. I basically don’t give a fuck. Nothing at this point wears me down. I know that all of this going on right now, either it’s going to pass or we’re going to pass.”


Photo of Kaïa Kater: Raez Argulla

Small World: Leyla McCalla Makes a Statement with ‘The Capitalist Blues’

Many seeing Leyla McCalla’s performance at the New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival last May had a bit of a surprise midway through the set. It wasn’t just that the musician and singer, generally associated with cello and banjo, strapped on an electric guitar. And it wasn’t just that the guitar was poised precariously over her very pregnant belly (she would give birth to twins three weeks later).

It was the music she and her band launched into that provided the shock, intentionally: A powerful new song, dense in structure, forceful in rhythm, marked by her despairing vocals and distorted guitars.

“You were like, ‘Wow, this is different!’” she says now.

The song, “Aleppo,” captures deep emotions she had while watching in-the-moment accounts of the horror experienced by those caught in the 2016 siege of the Syrian city. It was a dramatic departure from the largely acoustic Haitian/Louisianan/Delta/etc. inspirations of the rest of her set and of the two solo albums she’d released to that point, as well as from the African-American string band renewals she’s done in the Carolina Chocolate Drops.

But it’s also a sonic center, if an extreme one, of her new album, The Capitalist Blues. Working with producer Jimmy Horn, a.k.a. the formidable frontman of New Orleans’ rowdy ’n’ raw R&B stompers King James & the Special Men, she broke into new territories while staying firmly grounded in her musical and personal histories. The whole of her is here: being raised in New Jersey by her activist Haitian-born parents, spending two teen years living in Ghana, staying with her grandmother in Haiti during childhood summers, and now living in New Orleans as a concerned citizen and mother.

BGS: “Aleppo” really is quite different from anything you’ve done. How did that come about?

McCalla: I was watching Facebook Live testimonials of the people in Aleppo during the siege of 2016. People basically saying, “I exist. I’m here. This is what’s happening in my city.” It was really surreal… I had the line come into my head: “Bombs are falling in the name of peace.” That opened the doors to exploring the idea, not just the idea, but exploring how violence is seen as a way to peace in our society, how backwards that is, how messed up. I wanted it to sound angry and frustrated and devastating. I think we got it!

It’s not a surprise that you’d take on social issues. You’ve done it before, of course. And the title of the album and the first song is “The Capitalist Blues,” after all.

A lot of my songs come from a very personal place. And then I start to realize that my personal experience is related to many others’ experiences. I started writing that song several years ago when I was really just starting my [solo] career. It was new to me having an agent and a manager and discussing publishing deals and the business of music. It was a conflicted feeling of making music and being an artist. And I saw how many people can’t even find jobs, and the housing market is out of control and gentrification is everywhere. I sat on the words a long time and one day just came up with “I’ve got the capitalist blues,” and very quickly realized that it would be the title of the record.

You made it at Preservation Hall in the French Quarter in a traditional New Orleans jazz mode.

I’d always imagined it as a brass band, but didn’t know how I’d pull that off. It was such a dreamy experience to record it at Preservation Hall with basically the original Palmetto Bug Stompers band featuring [drummer] Shannon Powell and [banjo player] Carl LeBlanc.

The move into new sounds seems a natural progression.

[On my earlier records] I was inspired by field recordings, before there were amplifiers and electric guitars. But I was listening to Coupé Cloué, one of the forefathers of konpa music, Haitian dance music, what bachata is to the Dominican Republic. The origins of konpa are in Haitian troubadour music, music I was inspired by. A lot of these songs talk about social and political issues, metaphorically in coded language.

I was listening to [Cloué] and Trio Select records, same concept musically but with electric guitars. Magical music. I thought about the late ‘60s and early ‘70s, everything being plugged in, Bob Dylan at Newport. My band has been cracking me up — “We’re like the Band for you!” Yeah, and it’s 2019 and people might still be upset about this! But it’s a natural extension of what I did before. I’ve never been a purist.

“Heavy as Lead” is as personal as it gets.

I wrote that song in one day. All the words came down and, Boom! it was a song. My daughter had elevated lead levels in her blood and I was devastated with that. I don’t like to think of our home as unsafe, but I realized all my friends with young children have that experience. This is a systemic issue.

You have three cover songs on this. The calypso “Money is King,” originally by Neville Marcano, and the Haitian “Lavi Vye Neg,” by Gesner Henry, are familiar territory for you. But “Penha” is Brazilian, with you translating the Portuguese lyrics into Kreyol and English, something a bit different.

That’s a Luiz Gonzaga tune. I’ve been a big fan of Brazilian music since I was a teenager. My dad introduced me to the [1993] album Tropicalia 2, by Caetano Veloso and Gilberto Gil. Then I got into Caetano and saw him perform when I was 15, blew my mind, how he mixed indigenous Brazilian music with rock ’n’ roll. I hear the same chord changes and inflections in Kreyol music, not just in Haitian music but Louisiana and Cape Verde and all over Latin America, Trinidad.

The original title of this song is “Baião da Penha” — Baião is rhythm and Penha is the statue of the Virgin Mary. I loved the sentiment of it, believing in peace. I found the lyrics in Portuguese online and I went on Google Translate to translate the lines. I liked the melody but had no idea what it was really about. Then I thought, “Oh, this would be so cool if I could also sing this in Kreyol!” And that’s what I did.

You’re fluent in Kreyol.

I grew up with a lot of people speaking Kreyol around me, but not necessarily to me. Spent the summer with my maternal grandmother in Haiti in ’95, and after that was fluent, but after that I lost it. My comprehension has gotten much better since I’ve been exploring Haitian music, and spending more time in Haiti. I was 10 with my grandmother there. She was very determined to make me love Haiti and help me develop a Haitian-American identity. I think she thought me and my sister were spoiled brats and needed to come experience what other kids were like. That had a huge influence on my life path.

I can’t really talk about why I’m influenced by all these different kinds of music without addressing the oppression of Haitians and black people in the world and why that exists. I live in this. I deal with racial bias on a daily basis. It’s endlessly fascinating, not something that will be solved. I try to puncture the glass ceiling of preconceived notions of what it means to be Haitian, what it means to be black, what it means to be Kreyol, what it means to live in Louisiana. All that becomes part of my music.

You close the album in Haitian parade mode with the band Lakou Mizik on “Settle Down.” How did that happen?

I got really lucky. They played at JazzFest this past year and in 2017. When I recorded with them it was the spring of 2017. I was listening to NPR and they were talking about people protesting at the inauguration who were arrested. They want us all to settle down and fall into place and be complicit to whatever political motives they have. I was thinking about what it means to protest, what it is to march in the streets, how powerful that experience can be. They were putting anti-protest legislation on the table. They just want us all to settle down. So I knew I wanted the song to be part Kreyol and heard it as a rara tune. They [Lakou Mizik] have those instruments and play that style, that’s how they started as a band. It just magically worked out. Hard not to feel it was meant to be, it was written in the stars.


Photo credit: Sarrah Danzinger

The Show On The Road – Sunny War

Z. speaks with folk/blues guitarist and singer/songwriter Sunny War.

LISTEN: APPLE PODCASTS

Turns out that while Sunny War was playing her poetic brand of punky blues on the rowdy boardwalk in Venice Beach, host Z. Lupetin was living just up the block and walking past her every day without noticing. She’s come quite a long way since those days, having released three albums since 2014, culminating with 2018’s breakout, “With the Sun.”