MIXTAPE: Lucero’s Ben Nichols & Rick Steff Celebrate the Spaces In Between

(Editor’s Note: Ben Nichols and Rick Steff, two members of Lucero, recently released a special acoustic album, Lucero Unplugged, reimagining songs from across the band’s 25-year catalog. To celebrate its release on January 24, we asked the pair to curate a Mixtape for BGS.)

Rick and I each chose five songs for this playlist focusing on the spaces in between the notes. We feel these songs illustrate that sometimes it’s the notes that are chosen not to be played that add weight and impact. It’s the spaces in between the notes that bring life to the notes that are there. Rick’s picks naturally focus on piano players and my own choices lean more towards acoustic guitars. It’s easy to tell who suggested which songs. But I love the list we ended up with. Thanks for letting us participate in this and thanks for listening. – Ben Nichols

With all these choices it’s the notes not played, the spaces between, the breaths between the sounds. When making Lucero Unplugged these players and records informed a lot of the choices and approaches I took with regards to dynamics and voicings, and mainly just trying to be a solid accompanist for Ben and to the song. – Rick Steff

“Dayton Ohio 1903” – Randy Newman

Randy Newman is the king of piano voicing. Where he places his notes is always perfect. He’s also an amazing accompanist and I always think of him whenever I record piano. This often overlooked song shows all of that as well as being a portal to another time. – RS

“Florida” – Thomas Dollbaum

One of my favorite (mainly) acoustic records. A friend turned me on to Thomas’ album, Wellswood, and I liked it so much I asked Thomas to come to The Whitewater Tavern in my hometown of Little Rock and play my 50th birthday party with me. In the song “Florida” we hear a story that’s rough around the edges sung in a voice that’s vulnerable, but builds with the music and then pulls the rug out from under you, punching you in the gut. He’s so good he makes me jealous. – BN

 “Waterlow” – Mott the Hoople

Ian Hunter. No band was more influential to me than Mott the Hoople and their early records have amazing keyboard parts. “Waterlow” reminds me of Lucero songs compositionally. Beautiful song and lovely piano arpeggio that follows the vocal. – RS

“Goin’ Down South”  – R.L. Burnside

The haunting drone of this early R.L. Burnside recording captured my imagination the first time I heard it. In between the driving acoustic guitar licks and the churning vocals you can hear the Mississippi Hill Country nights. You can see the Mississippi River and feel its meandering presence as it makes its way south relentlessly, through the middle of the country. – BN

“I Keep a Close Watch” – John Cale

John Cale. Again, all about accompanying. This performance has always been a favorite of mine from the ex-Velvet Underground solo catalog. John’s piano work in the Velvets has also influenced and showed up on Lucero records for sure. – RS

“Good Woman” – Cat Power

The Lucero song “When You Decided to Leave,” featured on the new Lucero Unplugged album Rick and I just released, was written after I heard this Cat Power song. The lyrics about leaving something you love, being a “good” or “bad” woman or man, and the conflict and heartbreak bound up in that hit me hard. The instrumentation and performances accentuate that ache and desire. A desire for someone (maybe ourselves) to be a way they cannot be. – BN

“A Salty Dog” – Procol Harum

Gary Brooker was an amazing pianist and this song features something I’ve tried to achieve on various recordings throughout the years, the piano vignette. A small section removed from everything else that resets the song in a unique way. Like a structured solo, sort of. This is to me one of the most moving songs of the sixties and often still brings me a tear. Same band as “Whiter Shade of Pale,” by the way. – RS

“Bruised Ribs” – Joey Kneiser

I’d been a fan of Joey Kneiser’s band, Glossary, for years and when he released this acoustic solo album I fell in love with it. The straightforward presentation with delicate and thoughtful accompaniment lets the power of his simply perfect lyrics shine through. It doesn’t get much better than this. This album definitely influenced me to write some solo acoustic songs myself. – BN

“Ruby’s Arms” – Tom Waits

It’s difficult to choose one Tom Waits song to show his piano style, having spent decades with his music. His barroom piano voicings and dramatic tempo rises and falls – “Ruby’s Arms” showcases those beautifully and heartbreakingly. – RS

“Living on the Moon” – Adam Faucett

Adam is from Little Rock, Arkansas (like me), and this song is one of my favorites. Again, it goes back to the spaces in between the notes– the choices he made about the sounds we hear. We hear everything we need and nothing we don’t for the ultimate emotional impact. There is a preciseness to the recordings of all the songs on this list that I haven’t been able to capture much in my career. But I love it. And I’m still learning and hopefully there is a little of that on this new Lucero Unplugged album. – BN


Photo Credit: Courtesy of the artist.

You Gotta Hear This: New Music From Lonesome River Band, Lily Talmers, and More

Where did the first month of 2025 go!? Wherever it went, we’ve got an excellent batch of premieres for your final New Music Friday of January.

Below, check out brand new music and performance videos like Amanda Bjorn’s “Until We Become Earth,” a song about searching for yourself set to a gorgeously warm and retro video shot on film. Pitney Meyer (a duo of longtime country and bluegrass pals, John Meyer and Mo Pitney) bring a live performance of their new single, “Bear Creek Clay,” as well.

Bluegrass mainstays Lonesome River Band bring back a Jimmy Yeary song that Sammy Shelor turned into a classic, “I’m On To You,” with the full LRB on this new rendition. Plus, Dave Murphy calls on Mark Erelli for his new number, “Planet of Pain II,”  a sequel to the original “Planet of Pain” from his 1998 album, Under the Lights.

Elsewhere, don’t miss Joshua Finsel’s “Before the Snow,” about through hiking the Appalachian Trail and cresting Mount Katahdin in Maine before wintertime hits. And, Lily Talmers celebrates release day for her new album, It’s Cyclical, Missing You, by bringing us that project’s lush and deep folky title track.

It’s all right here on BGS – we’ve said it before, we’ll say it again: You Gotta Hear This!

Amanda Bjorn, “Until We Become Earth”

Artist: Amanda Bjorn
Hometown: Los Angeles, California and Spain
Song: “Until We Become Earth”
Album: That Kind of Woman
Release Date: January 24, 2025 (single)

In Their Words: “‘Until We Become Earth’ is the first single off my upcoming debut album, That Kind of Woman, which is set to release in April 2025. A blend of blues and folk with a bit of Americana, the new album reads like a diary touching on major changes in my life – balancing motherhood with artistry, finding and losing myself within relationships, postpartum mental health, and the transformation that happens from living abroad and returning home.

“The song was written in a School of Song workshop with one of my favorite songwriters, Adrianne Lenker, exactly one year ago. Without ruining it, the song is about that search for self-identity within a relationship, the vulnerability of building your own voice, and the risk it takes to keep expanding.

“With the help of my old friend, producer Aaron Stern, I recorded the album this past summer in Los Angeles at Verdugo Sound. With the help of some very talented musicians, we performed live together in the same room for most of the album, our aim was to capture the magic of improvisation and the authentic energy that arises from truly listening and connecting, free from a click track.” – Amanda Bjorn

Track Credits:
Phillip Krohnengold – Guitar, keys
Michael Villiers – Drums
Aaron Stern – Bass
Amanda Bjorn – Vocals
Adam Ayan – Mastering
Aaron Stern – Producer

Video Credits: Filmed by Giacomo Gex; color by Ruben Sogomonian; film processed by Kafard Films, Paris, France.
Starring Amanda Bjorn and Brando Wild.


Joshua Finsel, “Before the Snow”

Artist: Joshua Finsel
Hometown: Jim Thorpe, Pennsylvania
Song: “Before the Snow”
Album: No Honey
Release Date: February 6, 2024

In Their Words: “‘Before The Snow’ is a song about an Appalachian Trail through-hiker whose river meditation is interrupted by a daydream. Mount Katahdin in Baxter State Park in Maine is the northern end of the trail, and a hiker must get there ‘before the snow’ in order to be allowed to finish the journey.

“The lyrics are autobiographical. I teamed up with the famed string trio Bizarre Star Strings (Brandi Carlile, Madison Cunningham, The Shins) for the lush, theatrical river-like passages. Award winning fiddle player Katelynn Casper and mandolinist Quentin Fisher of Serene Green added to the arrangements. Finally, David Bowie producer and bass player Mark Plati mixed the record and played fretless bass.” – Joshua Finsel


Lonesome River Band, “I’m On To You”

Artist: Lonesome River Band
Hometown: Floyd, Virginia
Song: “I’m On To You”
Release Date: January 31, 2025
Label: Mountain Home Music Company

In Their Words: “‘I’m On To You’ is a song written by my friend Jimmy Yeary, who has become one of the most in-demand writers in Nashville. I recorded this song back in 1997 and it was the first song Jimmy had featured on an album. The album is long out of print, but this song kept making its way into sound checks and the show every now and then. It has that ’80s country vibe that we felt would lend itself to the sound we are doing for this upcoming album. We hope you like this version!” – Sammy Shelor

Track Credits:
Sammy Shelor – Banjo, vocal
Jesse Smathers – Acoustic guitar, lead vocals
Mike Hartgrove – Fiddle
Adam Miller – Mandolin, vocals
Kameron Keller – Upright bass


Dave Murphy, “Planet of Pain II” (Featuring Mark Erelli)

Artist: Dave Murphy
Hometown: Madison, New Jersey
Song: “Planet of Pain II” featuring Mark Erelli
Album: A Heart So Rare
Release Date: January 31, 2025

In Their Words: “The song is a rumination on the fragility of life, disappointment, lessons learned, and carrying on. This theme is illustrated in my lyrics, ‘Ashes to ashes, dust to dust/ Sometimes it feels like it’s all just too much/ When something is lost (they say) something is gained/ Still finding my way on this planet of pain.’ The original ‘Planet of Pain‘ appeared on my first album, Under the Lights. It was just one voice, one acoustic, and a lap steel. Part II borrows some lyrics, but elevates the song to a different level with the support of Chris Tarrow’s mysterious pedal steel playing, Shawn Pelton’s percussion, and Mark Erelli’s haunting vocals.” – Dave Murphy

Track Credits:
Dave Murphy – Vocals, acoustic guitar
Shawn Pelton – Drums
Chris Tarrow – Electric guitar, pedal steel
Richard Hammond – Bass
Mark Erelli – Backing vocals


Pitney Meyer, “Bear Creek Clay”

Artist: Pitney Meyer
Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee
Song: “Bear Creek Clay”
Album: Cherokee Pioneer
Release Date: January 10, 2025 (single); April 18, 2025 (album)
Label: Curb Records

In Their Words: “‘Bear Creek Clay’ is a song brought to the group by Danielle Yother from North Carolina. It’s a snapshot of a pioneering Daniel Boone-type of character, blazing a trail to a home in the mountains. ‘Bear Creek Clay’ was the title we settled on, which in the moment I figured was something we would come back and edit later, but come to find out, there are creeks and rivers by that name all over Tennessee, Kentucky, and Missouri. Driving through Bon Aqua, Tennessee, I noticed on the map I was nearing a Bear Creek. This was just a few miles from the log cabin where we would be recording. When we cut the song to tape a few days later, I knew we had to drive down to the creek first. The water was brown and rushing fast, swollen from the rains the night before. We made it back to the cabin a bit soaked but ready to step in and sing this song that seemed to be coming to life in the landscape around us.” – John Meyer

Track Credits:
Mo Pitney – Guitar
John Meyer – Banjo
Nate Burie – Mandolin
Blake Pitney – Bass
Jenee Fleenor – Fiddle


Lily Talmers, “It’s Cyclical, Missing You”

Artist: Lily Talmers
Hometown: Birmingham, Michigan and Brooklyn, New York
Song: “It Is Cyclical, Missing You”
Album: It Is Cyclical, Missing You
Release Date: January 30, 2025

In Their Words: “This song is sort of meant to mirror the experience of running up and down a hill, continuously. It was born of witnessing two brothers arguing in a parking lot– the younger, around five years old, was sobbing trying to get his older brother’s attention. The older brother, around age seven, clearly had the awareness that ignoring someone only makes them more desperate for your attention, and wouldn’t look his brother in the eye. The whole record is sort of a big statement of what it means to be in both of these positions, cyclically. I am both the desperate, reaching brother, and the power-hungry, indignant brother who hasn’t learned the responsibility of loving other people.” – Lily Talmers

Track Credits:
Lily Talmers – Vocals, acoustic guitar, music, lyrics
Raffi Boden – Cello
Konstantinos Revelas – Bouzouki
Alec Spiegelman – Clarinet, bass clarinet, flute
David Ward – Drums, percussion


Photo Credit: Lonesome River Band by Sandlin Gaither; Lily Talmers by Bailey Lecat.

Larkin Poe Continue to Bloom

Megan and Rebecca Lovell are Larkin Poe, a band that nestles into a myriad of genres – and the sisters are good with that. Their newest full-length album effort, Bloom, out January 24, comes fresh off the heels of a GRAMMY win for Best Contemporary Blues Album with last year’s Blood Harmony. They also landed Duo of the Year at 2024’s Americana Honors & Awards, proving that by digging into their own stories, collaborating even when it isn’t easy, and filtering it all through what the music will feel like on stage, they carve a sound that knocks down doors into multiple genre territories.

Independent spirit permeates everything the sisters do, from the way they write and produce the music to how they map out the aesthetics of how they present the work. Bloom is no exception, finding the women delving deeply into personal and social themes in a way they say they have not before, the result of getting real with each other and learning how to collaborate through the writing process.

In “You Are the River,” we find them contemplating a common theme throughout the album, that sometimes the best and the worst are married inextricably and tie us to each other.

The sand in the oyster
The pressure on the coal
The sum of the parts is greater than the whole
A chain of reactions
A butterfly’s wing
My hand holding yours to form another link

For our Artist of the Month interview, BGS spoke with Megan and Rebecca via Zoom from their respective homes in Nashville. The Lovells discuss the challenges and joy of writing together, the evolution of their relationship with their fans, and the pressures of public life in the age of social media.

You all have been lauded in multiple genres, from blues to Americana. You are also identified as a rock and roll band and here we are talking on a bluegrass outlet. What do you think about genres in general, and do you consider them at all during creation of the music?

Rebecca Lovell: One of the greatest pieces of advice that we’ve ever received was from Mr. Elvis Costello. Many, many years ago, he advised us to defy the temptation to put ourselves into a genre box. He has lived up to that creed himself, having made bluegrass, gospel, country, punk, rock records, operatic records, and musical records.

For us, having been able to sample all the different facets of who we are as people and music lovers allows us to connect with the people who are consuming our music. I think increasingly, all of us consume music from a wide range of genres. I do think that that’s one gift of streaming platforms. The very barest of silver lining is that it opens up your mind to the fact that there is great music to be found in every genre, and I think genre-blending is the way of the future.

So we call what we do roots rock and roll, which is intentionally very vague because we get great joy out of letting the many flavors of our musical heritage be represented. That allowed us this past summer to play at a bluegrass festival and then play at a world music festival, play at a pop festival, a rock festival, a country festival, and it keeps it fresh. It keeps it exciting.

You’ve won awards in multiple genres, especially in the past few years. I was curious: are awards ever a motivator for you? Do you ever think about them when you’re creating?

Megan Lovell: Winning awards is a very new thing for us. We’ve always made music with a different focus, because we’ve always felt that the real reward is people being willing to stand in line or travel and buy a ticket and wait at the venue for us to come and play. So that’s always been our focus. Not to say that winning an award isn’t a cool experience, and definitely something we’re super appreciative of, but I don’t think it’s something we consider when we’re writing or recording.

We’re definitely thinking about our live show. We’re really writing intentionally, thinking about how it will feel when we’re touring. Because that’s what we do most of the year is tour.

Tell me about your writing process, both when it’s just you two as sisters, bandmates, and business owners and then also when you bring in other folks to collaborate.

RL: I think Bloom represents a really cool point in our evolution as creative collaborators. Since the ground up, Megan and I have been projecting together since we were little kids. It’s felt like [there was] a lot of foreshadowing in our childhood that we would work together, because we’ve always been so collaborative. But songwriting was one of the last holdouts of our working relationship that there was friction in. I’m sure it has to do with the fact that there is a piece of this sibling rivalry thing. But getting older, being more comfortable with and accepting your flaws, and being able to then have the self-confidence in a writing session to throw out ideas – that inherently, because they are ideas, they’re not fully fledged. They can be misunderstood or sound stupid.

I think we’d had some writing experiences in the past where we had not had the best of times. It just felt like a lot of false starts. We typically had written separately, but something clicked in the last 6 to 8 months leading up to the writing process for Bloom. We made the commitment to and had many conversations about writing the record together, and I really think you can hear the progress that we made as a team in manifesting that true creative collaboration. I think the songs are so much better.

There was a real commitment to being very intentional with everything that we said on this record. Being a songwriter and a performer, there is always this temptation to self-aggrandize, or build a character for yourself, or be the movie theatrical version of who you are and what your life feels like. I specifically have written from that space in the past and listening back, we wanted to do something different this time. That was our consensus. We went through every song, every lyric on this record with a fine-tooth comb, to ensure that real vulnerable authenticity was represented in the lyrics. That took a lot of courage and I am really proud of us for making that commitment, and being able to actually pull it off with this album.

ML: You know, what’s funny is, when we were thinking about bringing in a third collaborator, did we go outside? No, we actually end up working with Rebecca’s husband [Tyler Bryant] a lot. So we have that sibling dynamic and the husband-and-wife dynamic. We really like to complicate things.

RL: There is a certain shorthand that exists when someone knows you really well, when you know someone really well, and especially between Megan and myself – and also Tyler. We all have very closely mirrored musical upbringings and we have a lot of kindred spirit energy in the records that we’re all referencing for the production and the songwriting.

It does create this space, when handled correctly, for being really truthful, being really genuine, and allowing yourself to actually go to those spaces. I was the big crybaby on this record. I was weeping in these co-writes, like inconsolable. But that allows you to really channel some specific, detailed stuff from your own experience. The more specific you’re able to get with yourself, the more likely it is you’re going to be able to connect with other people. And that is our biggest motivator.

That’s so wonderful. Speaking of, what is your relationship with your fans like? And do you see it evolving as you change your process and become more open that way?

ML: We have a lot of musically deep music lovers and they’re really cool, knowledgeable people. I think because we’ve kind of always been a little bit left of center, we’ve attracted a cool audience; people who appreciate the do-it-yourself attitude and people who just really want to support a grassroots effort.

We’ve had people who have been following now for decades, which is strange to be able to say, but they’ve really stuck with it. Of course, those relationships do shift over time. And certainly through the pandemic. That was a huge shift in the way that we related to people, because we were using the internet to connect. We had these pretty spiritual conversations with people that I’m not sure would have happened if we hadn’t been online and talking all of the time. We came out of the pandemic with a lot more intimate fans.

Can you talk about the recording process? Where did you cut this record? How did you decide to bring in your husband as co-producer?

RL: I do think the pandemic played a big role in the shift of Megan and myself bringing Tyler Bryant in as a co-producer because, for the last 10 years, we’ve been self-producing our records. At Megan’s behest as the big sister, she was like, “It’s time. We need to self-produce our records.” That was very scary at first, but we got our feet wet and got our bearings.

Ultimately, we’re so grateful that we made that shift, because it allowed us to hold the reins in the studio and steer the music in the direction that we wanted to go. Through the pandemic, we built a state of the art recording studio in the basement of our home, and we wanted to make records. We didn’t want to hold up our creative process. We were still distancing in our bubble. But it was the group of us, and by necessity we started recording in that home studio; we’re kind of blown away at the sounds we could get. There was an effortless nature of being in a really safe home environment.

When Megan and I tour with our band, we’re a four-piece, so we set up as a four-piece in the studio and went for it. Hopefully, that will allow our records to age gracefully because they are very true and very stripped down to who we are as a band.

ML: But honestly, when we were going to studios, we were experiencing a lot of Keurig machines and we like really nice espresso machines. So we made the decision to stay home.

Let’s talk about the song “Pearls.” It seems to be built around the idea of maintaining a sense of self while you’re navigating the world that’s constantly reflecting you in such a public way. I wanted to know, as family and as bandmates and business partners, how do you navigate the ever-changing and tumultuous world of being in the public eye, especially in the age of social media?

RL: I think it’s one of the hardest things. It is so challenging to exist in a space where you need to have just enough ego to get on stage and perform. But you can’t identify too much with that ego, because then you’re creating a very limited, narrow lane for yourself. But don’t have too big of an ego, because then you’re going to be a bitch and nobody’s gonna like you. So it’s this weird straddling of all these different elements of our identities. And then we’re having to do that together.

With so much shared experience between us, Megan knows the true me. I think that you and I have cultivated a great deal of grace, allowing that true nature to evolve. Who we were when we were 5, is simultaneously the same as who we are now, and also very, very different. Allowing that leeway for ourselves is only something that we’ve started really engaging with in the last 5 years. Right, Megan?

ML: Yeah, we’ve had a lot of conversations over the last couple of years. We are coming to more of an understanding of where the tension was coming from, from who we are as people, and then who we expect ourselves to be on stage. Then also that sort of external pressure that everybody has that we also felt from a very young age from the people around us. There are people in the industry who expect us to be something and then fans who come and meet us. There are a lot of opinions flying around, but you really don’t have to take anything on board that you don’t want to.

Whether it’s that one negative comment on a post that you for some reason have to obsess about, even though there are 99% positive comments. You just can’t get that negative comment out of your head and I don’t even know if I trust that person’s opinion. It’s a good reminder to just steer your own ship.

You mentioned different kinds of festivals, different genres of festivals. When you think about your tour, what kind of stage do you feel the most at home on? Is it a festival? Is it a club or theater? Is it a genre of festival?

ML: 2025 is going to be a big year for touring. Last year we played a lot of festivals. This year we are playing a lot of headline shows and we’re going to start in the U.S. and go through the spring. Then we’re gonna do a big fall European tour. And it’s shaping up to be really, really amazing. We have a really substantial following over in Europe. We have done a lot of work over there. There’s some bucket list venues that we’re gonna play.

I love a headline show. You know, where the place is packed, and there’s that energy in the audience, and everybody knows the lyrics. There’s nothing that beats that vibe and you can find that anywhere. You can find it in a tiny rock club to an arena or a festival. The important thing is that people are engaged from the stage to the audience, and vice versa.

Same for you, Rebecca?

RL: Yeah, I agree. I love a headline date, I think, especially because Megan and I are album people. We like a body of work. I like to sit down and listen to an artist’s album from the beginning to the end to try and get a sense of where they were at when they were writing the record. Megan and I, when we make our records, we obsess about the content, about the story arc, about the sequencing of the record, about the packaging, about the font.

And I think we get that same kind of energy in a headline show because we’re thinking about the colors of lights and which of the songs we are going to include and how much of the old material. We really want to have that space with the music and the emotional content of the music, and you feel that energy, and you feel that resonance. If everything goes right and everyone has their hearts open, you gain access to this portal where I think a lot of transformative change can happen between humans. And that’s what we seek.


Photo courtesy of the artist.

Artist of the Month: Larkin Poe

Larkin Poe are unstoppable. The incendiary sister duo – made up of Megan and Rebecca Lovell – have enjoyed near constant growth and momentum building over the past decade and a half, since they emerged from their younger family band era in the early 2010s as an endlessly gritty and gutsy Americana-meets-blues-meets-Southern rock phenomenon. Now, their sights are set on their upcoming seventh studio album, Bloom (out January 24 via Tricki-Woo Records), with a year’s worth of accolades – including their first GRAMMY win and being named the Americana Music Association’s Duo/Group of the Year – firing like afterburners on their already rocketing career.

Their perseverant climb of the music industry’s ladders is the least remarkable aspect of Larkin Poe’s trajectory, though. The sisters Lovell outwardly channel a sort of outlaw-styled disaffection for the trappings and machinations of the industry or Music Row, inhabiting self-assured personas that fit seamlessly within the genres they call home. They know they’re stellar songwriters, they’re virtuosic pickers, and they’re fluent in the aggression, anger, and release of rock and roll. Across their entire catalog there are clear demonstrations – from the winking and sly to the outright and overt (see, for instance, “She’s a Self Made Man“) – where Larkin Poe show their listeners they aren’t just living in “a man’s world,” they’re owning it, re-centering it, and doing it better than the machismo naysayers rife in these roots styles. Styles where a corrective phrase like “Um, actually…” is still wielded as a cudgel or seen as valuable social currency.

Um, actually… these women know exactly what they’re doing. And they would have to, given they came up through bluegrass, folk, and string band circles as a bluegrass(-ish) family band, the Lovell Sisters, with their sister Jessica. Winning songwriting contests and appearing on Prairie Home Companion, the Lovell Sisters were quickly beloved in bluegrass, honing their chops while also getting their first tastes of being written off or sidelined as “merely” a female-centered novelty act. When the group decided to disband, Megan and Rebecca “reskinned” as Larkin Poe, immediately transforming so many of their “I knew them when” audience members into “I wish they still played bluegrass” skeptics. Not that the Lovells cared, ultimately. A hallmark of the duo since their rebirth has been agency, autonomy, and self-possession. (Something of a prerequisite for successful women in roots music, to be sure.)

Seven studio albums into their grooving, rollicking, no-holds-barred catalog, Larkin Poe are even less concerned with external forces or outside variables influencing and impacting their music. Bloom builds on the confidence and clarity of Blood Harmony‘s GRAMMY Award-winning vision. Produced and co-written by both Lovells and their longtime collaborator (and Rebecca’s spouse) Tyler Bryant, Bloom zooms in on the individual stems, leaves, and petals of the agency and self-determination that have run through all of their music. It is, yet again, a decidedly familial project, but despite all of the ground they’ve covered together and all of the miles they’ve traveled over their lifelong careers together, rebirth and reinvention continue to blossom on each of their projects. It speaks once more to the music itself being their guiding light – rather than commercial appeal, marketability, or continuing to do it simply because it’s what they’ve always done.

Bloom is about finding oneself amidst the noise of the world,” says Rebecca via press release. “About wholeheartedly embracing the flaws and idiosyncrasies that make us real. In one way or another, pretty much all of the songs on this album are about finding yourself, knowing yourself, and separating the truth of who you are from societal expectations.”

Perhaps only a group of women could make a Southern rock album with this sort of message at its core. They may peacock and strut, on stage and in the studio, just like their male peers and contemporaries might, but they do so with a message and mission that’s decidedly antithetical to most creators in Americana, rock, and blues these days. Especially the “Um, actually…” set. By taking on these characters and personas, Larkin Poe aren’t hiding their truths from us, but putting their most authentic selves directly into the spotlight.

At the same time, when you’ve spent your entire adult lives making and performing music with your family, with siblings and in-laws and chosen family, too, it’s often a passive and subconscious process by which you slowly lose pieces of yourself, of your individuality, of your sacred selfhood. It’s no wonder, then, that Larkin Poe have crafted a stunning, engaging, and iconic catalog of music that orbits around this very dichotomy. To be a family band, to sing or pick or channel blood harmonies, is to give up yourself for the greater whole. Megan and Rebecca and their compatriots then use that same music to find and re-find that sense of self as it slips away. Each time, each album and each set of songs, it is a musical gift; and each time, including the latest effort, Bloom, Larkin Poe find and share themselves anew.

We are so very excited to name Larkin Poe our January 2025 Artist of the Month. Stay tuned for our exclusive interview with Megan and Rebecca Lovell coming later this month, dive into our Essential Larkin Poe Playlist below, and follow along on social media all month as we dive back into the BGS and Good Country archives for everything Larkin Poe and the Lovell sisters.


Photo Credit: Robby Klein

Basic Folk: A Wild 2024 Ride

It’s 2024 recap time on Basic Folk! Cindy & Lizzie dive into a most special year-end reflection, featuring highlights from our honest conversations with folk musicians. We revisit the top episode of the year, Anna Tivel & Jeffrey Martin’s insightful discussion on navigating artistic challenges and living a simple life. Cindy shares her favorite episode featuring her co-host Lizzie No talking about her career-defining album, Halfsies (our 250th episode!). In turn, Lizzie’s favorite honest convo came from Leyla McCalla onboard the Cayamo cruise. We sat in the ship lounge and dug in with Leyla about the “folk process” and her thoughts on cruising, as a Haitian-American, as we ported in Hispaniola aboard a luxury cruise line. (Spoiler: it is complex!)

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Basic Folk also checks in with friend Jontavious Willis about his biggest lesson of 2024 and what defining success as an independent artist looks like as he has just released his latest, West Georgia Blues. We also welcome Rose Cousins’ heartfelt words on embracing change as she prepares to release her next record, Conditions of Love – Vol. 1 (out March 14, 2025). As the episode ends, Lizzie leaves us with some words of wisdom:

“We are at a time of year where your body wants to be doing less. We’ve just survived a chaos clown show of violence in the election. Our culture is shifting rapidly. It’s okay if the things that used to work for you don’t work anymore. You’re allowed to start over. You’re allowed to try new things. You’re allowed to tell people in your life, ‘I’ve changed.’ You’re allowed to listen to new artists. You’re allowed to change how you dress. You can do it all. 2025 is a new year and you have freedom. And that’s my blessing to you.” – Lizzie No


Photo Credit: Lizzie No by Cole Nielsen; Rose Cousins by Lindsay Duncan; Leyla McCalla by Chris Scheurich; Jontavious Willis courtesy of the artist; Anna Tivel by Cody Onthank; Jeffrey Martin courtesy of the artist.

MIXTAPE: A Soundtrack of Life for Another Glory’s Nathan Trueb

Growing up in a musical family, I was exposed to a lot of different sounds from an early age – a lot of them, not by choice. I had a dad who preferred country radio and led gospel music at our church. My mom played classical and Civil War songs on the piano daily while I played with my toys. Next were two older siblings using seniority to lord over the dials at every chance – they also both played classical piano.

As I got older and carved away at my own musical sensibilities, these dictates became accidental influences to the soundtrack of my life and shaped who I have become as a songwriter and musician. This playlist includes some early influences along with music that has turned me on for one reason or another, which I’ll do my best to explain. Thank you to everyone who has helped shape the soundtrack of my life so far, especially my family and mentors. – Nathan Trueb, Another Glory

“Surfer Girl” – The Beach Boys

Some of my earliest memories growing up involve the Beach Boys. I remember the Endless Summer cassette tape and its painted album cover distinctly. We would listen to it on road trips and I remember my dad and his friends playing guitars and singing these songs. My older brother got really into the Beach Boys and I remember he loved this song. Even though he told me he didn’t know why, but it made him sad. It also became my 2-year-old daughter’s favorite song and band.

“Why Not Me” – The Judds

As much as I didn’t want to like country music, it started to become harder to make excuses as to why just as soon as I started to play the guitar and take music more seriously. If you were to ask anyone in my grade school what music they liked, the only acceptable answer was, “Everything BUT country.” The more discerning my ear became I couldn’t deny the masterful playing and even, dare I say, “shredding” of the players on these then-contemporary records. The other thing that country brought to the table were some perfectly crafted, three-minute-and-twenty-nine second pop masterpieces like this one. Although I couldn’t show it outwardly to my family, I was rocking out on the inside.

“Black Cadillac” – Lightnin’ Hopkins

We used to go over to my uncle’s house from time to time when my mom was at work. On one visit, around the time when I had just started playing guitar, I found out my uncle played a left-handed acoustic guitar that I really admired. I also had no idea that he had been learning some blues and showed me a few licks and we jammed together. He had a few records laid out and this one leaped into my hands. He put it on and I couldn’t believe my ears. The voice, the guitar, the storytelling and humor. I did that thing where I didn’t let go of the record until my uncle suggested I take it home. I still play that same copy to this day.

“Going to California” – Led Zeppelin

I owe the most to my brother as a musical influence – I guess just influence in general. He was always there with the next record I needed to hear. It was a pipeline from his friends to him, him to me, and then me to my friends. I’ll never forget the day that he played me Led Zeppelin and it completely blew my mind. Growing up in a conservative household, I had never heard anything like it and everything changed after that. I became obsessed with Led Zeppelin like people get obsessed with Harry Potter or WWII. “Going to California” came to me around the time of first loves and I really got it. “Sell the Farm” off of the Another Glory record is a direct hat-tip to this song. I love the way it made me feel and how it still transports me to long phone calls in my attic room in the summer time.

“Michelle” – The Beatles

My first memorable crush was named Michelle. She was my sister’s friend and would visit our house often. We grew up on a farm and that meant that my brand of flirting was often hurtling cow pies at my sister’s friends. Somehow that first love was unrequited.

I remember a trip to the Puget Sound where my brother loaned me his Beatles 1962-1966 disc (the red one with the whole apple/cut apple on the compact disc), popping it in the Discman, putting the headphones on, and listening to that song over and over. I loved it, but it made me sad. Now I knew how my brother felt when he listened to “Surfer Girl.” I sing this song to my daughter and it’s still amazes me that they wrote it. Like, how? I’m sure there’s a story about it somewhere, but I don’t think I really want to know. My wife and I have been together since high school and the first time I visited her bedroom she had every single Beatles album in a dedicated, spinning CD tower.

“Naptown Blues” – Herb Ellis

My mom was driving me to school one day my freshman year and I had the local jazz radio station on, 89.1 KMHD. I think playing the guitar a lot when I was homeschooled for a couple years took me on a trajectory from Led Zeppelin to Steely Dan to trying to understand jazz by listening to the radio. This song came on as she dropped me off. I said, “I don’t know what this is, but I want to play like that.” Bless her heart, she must have written it down as the DJ read that title after the song ended (in their soft, publicly-funded morning voice), because I unwrapped this CD for my next birthday and I remember listening to it while I went to sleep until I had every part memorized.

“Don’t Think Twice, It’s Alright” – Bob Dylan

Speaking of girlfriends, my first real girlfriend in high school had an older brother who was a Dylan fanatic. I remember looking through his 72-disc Case Logic CD case. I opened up the first page, Dylan. Second page, Dylan. The entire thing was filled with Bob Dylan. He asked me if I was a fan and I remember saying, “not yet.” For some reason I had a feeling I might be someday.

Well, I don’t remember how, but when I moved out of my folks’ place this song hit me like a freight train. Dylan’s influence is so obvious in any modern music, especially when you are a guy fingerpicking a guitar, but we have to give credit where it’s due. I’d like my old girlfriend’s brother to know that I finally crossed the Rubicon.

“My Funny Valentine” – Bill Evans & Jim Hall 

I’ve had a few guitar teachers in my life and had the pleasure of taking some lessons in college from Jerry Hahn. He had his own books and I think was a big fan of Jim Hall. He turned me on to this record and this style of walking bass with chords. He also taught me to keep a list of “must-have” or “must-find” records in my wallet for the record store. I still have a list to this day in my notes. He said this one should be on there. Years after taking from him, I found an original copy somewhere in California. This is one of my all-time favorite records.

“Run That Body Down” – Paul Simon

I got pretty into this record at some point and into Paul Simon’s writing in general. I used to have two enormous PA speakers that we used for band practice in my basement. Late at night I would sit between them and listen to music very loud. This song was on and the guitar solo caught me by surprise. I looked up the song to find out who played the solo. It was my old teacher, Jerry Hahn!

I ran into him at a jazz club not too long after and asked him about it. He recalled it perfectly and said he turned down the offer to come to the studio because he was “too busy.” They kept calling, so he went and remembered being frustrated. Take after take, Paul wasn’t getting what he wanted. Finally Jerry took the solo in a totally different direction, against his good sense, with the wah pedal and all. After the take Paul exclaimed, “That’s it!”

“One Mo’Gin” – D’Angelo

After listening to all of the Motown one can get their hands on, you start to wish there was more. Or, that it continued to evolve into modernity with class and style instead of flaming out, morphing into disco dances by designer drugs. Like when your parents started “raising the roof.” At some point you just have to put it down, like Old Yeller. Then decades later someone comes along who has filled themselves to the brim with that old tonic and others that had filled up on the same, and it comes spilling out in biblical proportions in a perfect statement. Voodoo is that album. D’Angelo is that prophet. I have listened to this record so much in my life that it’s hard to state exactly what influence it has had on me. “Fool For You” was a song written a long time ago and it was a direct attempt to do something in that vein.

“I Don’t Know” – Nick Hakim

As you get older it gets harder to get the same high from music that you did when stuff first really freaked you out – or maybe that’s just me. So, when you find that something or someone, it might become an instant obsession. Nick Hakim had that effect on me. I loved everything he was doing; it was so different, sonically, than most of the bedroom pop stuff or neo-soul. It felt like a modern psychedelic Voodoo, but also just heartbreakingly beautiful. His ability to mix his jazz-school-kid sensibilities with gospel and indie-rock set a high bar and still does.

“The Only Thing” – Sufjan Stevens

It seems that everyone has a favorite Sufjan. His prolific list of albums seem limitless in their scope and bending of genres. The only Sufjan for me is Carrie & Lowell. I don’t think there is an album that equals it in creating a soundtrack for sadness, grief, regret, love, life, and death – at least not that I have found. His lyrical imagery seems to be divinely inspired and it’s hard to pick one part of the song, so I’ll quote the first words:

The only thing that keeps me from driving this car
Half-light, jack knife into the canyon at night
Signs and wonders: Perseus aligned with the skull
Slain Medusa, Pegasus alight from us all

“The Magician” – Andy Shauf

This song came on the radio while I was driving in Portland over a bridge with a view of the river and the city behind it. (I often remember an exact time I heard a song with perfect clarity. Maybe everyone does? “Mo Money Mo Problems” I was passing the Chevron on Molalla Ave., Oregon City, circa 2001.)

After the 8-bar intro to this intriguing new single on the local indie radio station, I nearly crashed my car. I instantly remember being like, “OKAY!” and banging my head when the beat dropped. It’s a perfect song to me and a perfect recording that is perfectly produced. You can’t say that about every song you love.

“If I’m Unworthy” – Blake Mills

Every guitarist sooner or later was exposed to Blake Mills. A friend of mine turned me onto his first album early, before all the hype, and I quickly became a fan. His songs and voice weren’t typical and were totally unique to him. I had watched a lot of videos of him playing and he quickly became the best living guitarist that I was aware of.

His long-awaited sophomore album was finally announced. When he came to town to support the record he was booked in a small room, seated. His name was so unknown I couldn’t find anybody to go with me. I also had inside knowledge that his then girlfriend, Fiona Apple, was likely to make an appearance. So I stood silently in line to the sold-out night and kept my mouth shut.

During his set, I popped out to the bar to get a drink and bellied up to the bar. I let the woman to my left go ahead of me. It was Fiona Apple. She laughed when I nearly spit out my drink. “If I’m Unworthy,” in the moment it was released, became the new “guitar song” for guitar nerds. Every single guitarist has to learn it, as a rite of passage; like Stevie Ray Vaughan or “Sweet Home Alabama.” The song is a snapshot of the Blake Mills that revolutionized guitar once again and then quickly retired, confounding dad-rockers with little tube amps and glass slides adorned to their fingers. Will the real Blake Mills please stand up?

“Body” – Julia Jacklin

MLK & N Fremont, near the Chevron. That’s where I first heard this song. Maybe I only have autobiographical, photographic memories of songs if they involve a gas station, specifically Chevron. We were riding in a friend’s Subaru, which we always drove around in. A peace-sign necklace swinging from her rearview mirror, rain hitting the windshield, the music always blasting. I had never heard the song before and I was all-in from the downbeat. Such a heavy song and so personal.

Julia’s lyrics make you feel like it was you yourself on that Sydney tarmac. And the haunting question, “Do you still have that photograph?/ Would you use it to hurt me?” Like the photograph, the song is naked and circles around a singular progression, building tension until finally quietly cracking open for some light at the end.

“I guess it’s just my life, and it’s just my body…” which, on the first listen, could sound sarcastic, but on the repeat she sounds relieved or at least vindicated. And of course it is probably both. The progression gives hope that this chapter of her life, or ours, is closed. In my experience, that is what a lot of good songs do: close a chapter for the artist and the listener.

“Are You Looking Up” – Mk.Gee

Not a secret any more. Still mysterious, but not just the guitar-guy in the Dijon video. Still shy, but now he’s in the spotlight. The leap from his 2018 album to Two Star & the Dream Police might as well have been a tightrope walk over the Grand Canyon. I loved the old stuff, but when I saw the live video of “Are You Looking Up” with Mk.gee hanging out of a tour bus or train car – whatever it was – I nearly fell out of my chair. I had a hard time explaining why to some who just heard Doogie Howser synths.

His way of playing might not sound outwardly complex or groundbreaking, but in my opinion, it is. Everything about the homespun, demo-quality recordings reminds of me of how a Wu-Tang record sounds completely superior to anything else on MTV at the time, not due to its polish, but rather its grit. Mike’s voice has the perfect dichotomy of rasp and softness. He has a unique ability to sing almost indecipherable lyrics over such memorable melodies that the words could be an afterthought, not unlike Bon Iver.

I had the pleasure of meeting Mike when he came through Portland. He is shy and a lot of lyricists seem to guard their lyrics due to insecurity, but the lyrics are so good, too. I see Mk.gee as the new guitar gunslinger with his outlaw jacket as his cape. He’s single-handedly doing for guitar what The Mandalorian did for Star Wars.


Photo Credit: Ryder Medeles

‘Things Done Changed’ For Jerron Paxton – Now He Writes the Songs, Too

The music, sparse and spooky, sounds at the same time strangely universal and possibly from the last century, but as Jerron Paxton notes in his album title, Things Done Changed. The major difference on Paxton’s fifth album (including his 2021 duet set with Dennis Lichtman) is a big one. He wrote the songs.

“It wasn’t a very difficult decision,” Paxton said. “I had always had a list of tunes to record of my own compositions. I had to get enough cogent tunes to be an album, because you can’t have something that’s all over the place.

“You can’t have overtures with your hoedowns.”

The material on Things Done Changed is evidence that Paxton is no novice songwriter. These are words infused with hard living, what he calls “a good album full of blues tunes.”

In the standout track, “So Much Weed,” Paxton weaves amusement and a little resentment that there are Black people still serving time for minor drug offenses in an era when legal marijuana stores are in many states.

“Things done changed from the ’90s until now/ Lend me your ear and I’ll sure tell you how/ We got so much weed/ And the law don’t care/ My poor uncles used to have to run and hide/ Now they sit on their front porch with pride.”

A telephone call with Paxton is an adventure. He doesn’t back down and enjoys putting you on the spot if you’re susceptible to that.

A lot of your work is in vintage music styles. Why not a more contemporary sound?

Jerron Paxton: I play a diverse array of styles. I started off playing the banjo and the fiddle. As a matter of fact, I’m one of the few professional Black five-string banjo players in the world.

You have roots in Los Angeles and your family is from Louisiana. How did each of those places affect your music?

Well, I play the music of that culture, so it affected it in totality. It’s like being Irish and playing Irish music.

Could you give me a sense of how you evolved as a musician?

I started off with the fiddle and moved to the banjo and the guitar and piano and things like that. It was just a natural evolution, getting interested in one and that leading to another and to another, growing up in the house that was full of the blues. That’s mostly what my family listened to. [My aunt] almost listened to strictly the blues, while my grandma was kind of eclectic like me, and listened to everything. She liked Hank Williams and all sorts of country music and jazz and everything like that.

… I grew up in, first of all, a family full of Black people. So I got exposed to all sorts of Black folk music and Black popular music of every generation. You were just as liable to hear [Mississippi] John Hurt and Son House and Bukka White in my house as to hear Marvin Gaye, Michael Jackson, and Sam Cooke. If you heard bluegrass, that was mostly me. I was the one blasting Flatt & Scruggs and people like that.

You didn’t grow up in Louisiana, yet your music seems to be tied to music from the South.

My grandparents grew up there. My family migrated to Los Angeles with the death of Emmett Till and they brought their culture with them. But that doesn’t say much, because the majority of the culture in South Central [Los Angeles] is from Louisiana, so it’s not like we went someplace completely foreign. We went someplace where we were surrounded by people who were from where we were from.

I love the song “So Much Weed.” It’s a funny song about a serious thing, that there are many Black people in prison for marijuana convictions on charges that are now legal. Do people laugh when you play it?

I don’t play it live. Well, I don’t play it on stage. I usually play it in small gatherings for close friends.

Would you tell me more about your grandmother and how she influenced your music?

She was a fun, loving lady from northwestern Louisiana. My mother had to work, so I spent most of my time with [my grandmother] and grew up gardening and fishing, and getting the culture that you get when you’re raised in the house with your grandmother. Her mother was across the street. So I had four generations of family on one street.

So some of the songs on Things Done Changed were written some time ago. Why sit on them?

Some of the tunes were kind of personal and I just sort of kept them for myself and my friends. Other ones I had been singing on stage for a little while and said, “Maybe I should record this song first chance I get.” And other ones I had been singing since I was little, since my grandma helped find some words to them. So it’s all kinds of processes. Some of them take a lot of labor.

Do you mostly like to work alone live, or do you like to mix it up with other musicians sometimes?

It depends on the context. If I’m being hired as a soloist, that’s what you do, and that seems to be the most in demand. There’s not too many people who can go on the stage by themselves and hold the audience for 45 or 90 minutes or two hours with just the instrument. So people tend to hire me for that and there’s a lot of solo material unexplored because of that. But I play jazz music, so that’s a collective art. I play country music, which is also a collective art. I play blues music, which is a collective art. So you know, they’re all collective, but the solo is what people ask for. It travels easy.

So how would you like your career to develop? Do you have a plan?

I’d like to be filthy rich, just grotesquely rich and have a mansion with a lake. [Laughs] … But to be honest, I’m kind of enjoying building what I have, and I haven’t really seen any end to it. That might be a good thing. It just seems to be getting better. So I don’t see a need to worry about the end as much as how to make the best parts of what’s happening now last longer.

What kind of rooms are you working? Are you doing clubs for the most part?

I play festivals and basically any place that’ll have it, theaters and places like that. Any place that wants good music, I try to be there to supply.


Photo Credit: Janette Beckman

Basic Folk: Kasey Anderson

We’re starting with the end in our conversation with Kasey Anderson. On Basic Folk we’ve covered a lot of firsts: debut albums, origin stories, and the beginnings. Ever since I have known Kasey, his social media bio has been, “Gradually retiring songwriter.” I’m always teasing him about “What does that mean? When are you going to retire?” Officially, this latest album, To the Places We Lived, is his “last album.” I want to put that in very heavy quotes, because I hate to imagine a world where a great songwriter friend of mine is not making records. I think his insistence on this album as the last one has more to do with saying goodbye to parts of the music industry that he wants to release and ways of being in the world that he doesn’t want to engage with anymore. What do we need to let go of? What do we need to release? That’s the place where this album begins.

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In our conversation, we talk about Kasey’s whole songwriting career and the moment where he went surprise viral for one of his political songs, “The Dangerous Ones.” We talk about his time being incarcerated and what that taught him about himself, what it taught him about the world, what it taught him about white supremacy. We talk about his family. We talk about his sobriety and his work in helping others get clean and stay clean, and what staying clean means in a holistic and gentle sense.

The songs on this album are mournful, literate, and very, very fun. My favorite is “Back to Nashville;” it’s a rock and blues song. Kasey is the type of artist who can write a really contemplative song about self reflection or grief or loss, and then a blues rocker that makes you want to shake your ass the next second.


Photo Credit: Matthew Leonetti

BGS 5+5: Mark Stoffel

Artist: Mark Stoffel
Hometown: Murphysboro, Illinois
Latest Album: True Tones
Personal Nicknames (or rejected band names): Dr. Pretzel and recently The Mandolinator

What was the first moment that you knew you wanted to be a musician?

Before I picked up the mandolin, I played the piano, inspired by my mom who was an accomplished classical player. When I was around ten years of age, my parents switched piano teachers and the new one taught me something completely new: blues, boogie, and ragtime. I did appreciate the classical stuff, but the boogie stuff got me really excited. Not too long after that I performed in school – I kicked it off with a fast boogie-woogie piece, then I played a solo on harmonica (probably not the greatest!) while continuing the piano rhythm with my left hand. The audience went nuts and I that’s the first time I felt that my calling was to be a musician!

What has been the best advice you’ve received in your career so far?

Much later in my career I was given a book by Nate Lee, amazing fiddler and mandolinist. The book is entitled Effortless Mastery, penned by a jazz pianist named Kenny Werner. I started reading and from the get-go I was mesmerized. It’s all about embracing yourself – your ideas, your expression, your every musical moment. Do not ever worry about what other people might think of your playing and don’t always compare yourself with others. I’ll never be a Chris Thile, because only Chris Thile can be Chris Thile. I am Mark Stoffel. It’s as easy as that. Kenny Werner writes it in a way that totally spoke to me and it really – to this day – helps me every day. When I compose I no longer dismiss any ideas, when I practice, perform or record, I try to be myself and stay true to it. That was the best advice I received in my career so far.

Genre is dead (long live genre!), but how would you describe the genres and styles your music inhabits?

We’re all just a product what we’ve been exposed to. I grew up listening to lots of classical music. Then my dad, in the ’70s, got into rock, soul, and disco music and he bought tons of records and spun them all the time. Then I got bluegrass, first the more contemporary stuff – which at the time was Tony Rice, New Grass Revival, the Seldom Scene – then I gradually worked myself backwards in time to gain an appreciation for first generation bluegrass.

I think all of that is what informed what I do today. Genres are worthless to me. There are only two categories: Good music and bad music. As long as it has good drive, good melody, compelling lyrics, and a soul, it’s good. I love AC/DC as much as Flatt & Scruggs.

If you didn’t work in music, what would you do instead?

I’d be a baker and make original Bavarian pretzels for my fellow Americans.

What would a perfect day as an artist and creator look like to you?

Get up in the morning, have a cup of coffee, grab my mandolin, and play whatever comes to my mind, most likely come up with some new riff or melody. That will set the tone for everything else that happens that day, and all will be good.


Photo Credit: Mary Stoffel

Guitarist Jackie Venson on Her Instrumental Peer, Yasmin Williams

(Editor’s Note: For a special Artist of the Month feature and op-ed, acclaimed guitarist, composer, and improviser Jackie Venson considers the impact, musicality, and originality of her peer Yasmin Williams. Read more about Venson on BGS here. Explore more AOTM content on Williams here.)

As someone who gets pigeonholed as a blues guitarist, I’ve publicly reckoned with what I feel is an othering of blues as no longer really art, but instead what might be seen as a wax museum-ification of a formerly revolutionary genre. Too many established musicians and fans alike don’t want blues to evolve, but to instead be preserved in amber. Yet, its sibling folk music has not only never entirely fallen out of fashion, it has evolved and even prospered specifically because its brightest figures have refused to let tradition and academic codification stagnate the genre. Whether you’re talking about Bob Dylan going electric or Bon Iver collaborating with hip-hop superstars, folk musicians understand that cross pollination and new ideas are vital to growth. To my ears, Yasmin Williams is a proud continuation of that tradition of evolving folk.

To listen to the music of Yasmin Williams is to listen to the thrill of musical mutation in action, to hear and feel playing that is in constant communication, not only with itself, but with myriad styles and personalities. Given how adventurous and playful Williams’ music is, it’s not too surprising that her gateway to music was in fact a video game, specifically Guitar Hero 2.

In a review of Williams’ breakout 2021 album Urban Driftwood for taste-making music site Pitchfork, writer Sam Sodomsky connected Williams’ percussive, tap-heavy fingerpicking style to the mechanics of that game, as well as folk guitar legend John Fahey. Rhythmic intensity and love for the thrill of performance are the unifying elements of Williams’ otherwise impossible-to-pin-down style; this isn’t folk as a study or stuffy examination of tradition, it’s folk as expression at its most pure, music for entertainment, communication, and friendly competition all at once.

Williams’ latest batch of singles from her just-released album, Acadia, impeccably illustrates this eclectic and freewheeling approach to folk. “Hummingbird” is a dazzling collaboration with banjo player Allison de Groot and fiddle phenom Tatiana Hargreaves that recalls Richard Thompson’s lush, melodic picking but marries it to the breakneck intensity of traditional bluegrass.

On the other end of the folk spectrum, “Virga” finds Williams teaming up with Darlingside for a gorgeous and stately slice of indie folk that would fit right in with the likes of Sufjan Stevens and Bibio. Somewhere in the middle is “Dawning,” a bluesy folk number that features Williams dueting on guitar with Aoife O’Donovan of Crooked Still fame, who also provides enchanting, wordless vocals that give the song an almost ambient quality, as if Sigur Rós moved to Appalachia.

Even on songs that are more traditional, Williams playfully inserts pop and experimental elements. Take “Sunshowers,” which opens Urban Driftwood with beautiful fingerpicking that in turn gives way to a simple yet addictive bass-like hook that wouldn’t be out of place on a Post Malone single. Or, consider the album’s title track, which features djembe playing by Amadou Kouaye and adds an almost IDM (Intelligent Dance Music) quality to the song. Or, “Nova to Ba,” a collaboration with Argentine musician Dobrotto that effortlessly transitions from cinematic grandeur to relaxing ambient textures.

As a musician, I can’t help but be entranced by the marvelous skill and tone on display in Williams’ music. But more importantly, as a listener, I’m struck by the immediacy and tunefulness of the songs. Like Williams’ early inspiration, Guitar Hero 2, these songs are hard to put down once you start, and the difficulty never gets in the way of the fun.

“Juvenescence,” one of Williams’ most popular songs, is a handy representation of her skills – the impeccable picking, the daredevil runs that would impress even Eddie van Halen, the self-dueting in the finale. But it’s also immensely listenable and never a chore. Equally impressive is “Swift Breeze,” where Williams utilizes her guitar as an organic drum machine, getting a booming kick drum sound out of the body and rim shot-like hits out of other components, all while arpeggiating like she just got off a tour as the lead guitarist for a Midwest emo outfit.

It might seem odd to bring up emo in a feature on a folk musician, but there is a considerable amount of drama and theatricality in Williams’ music, even though most of it is instrumental. “Adrift,” in particular, has just as many emotional pivots and anthemic hooks as a Panic! At The Disco song. Here, the guitar comes in first, then the strings, but the swaggering hooks and melancholic valleys are there. It’s not hard to reimagine “Restless Heart,” from Williams’ debut album, Unwind, as an emo anthem either; it has a killer riff to kick things off followed by a pick slide and some heavy ringing chords. Even the title sounds like something the Get Up Kids would have used. If Dashboard Confessional was ever looking for their own Tim Reynolds to do an acoustic tour with, all I’m saying is Williams’ name should be high up on the list.

Every genre should be so fortunate as to have an artist like Williams, a performer who challenges herself without losing sight of what makes music a pleasure to listen to. A musician who commits to pushing the boundaries of the genre they call home, rather than maintaining a status quo. No genre should be inflexible and we need more musicians like Williams – period – who push themselves musically just as much as they do technically.

(Editor’s Note: Continue your Yasmin Williams Artist of the Month exploration here.)


Photo Credit: Ebru Yildiz