Multi-talented musician and producer Josh Kaufman is known for his work with Josh Ritter, The National, and his band Bonny Light Horseman. I’ve known Josh for many years, after meeting him in Pittsburgh while he was on tour with Dawn Landes. I felt instant friendship with him (and, honestly, with the entire Dawn Landes band that day). We haven’t seen each other very much over the last 15 years, but since he left that impression on me I’ve always rooted for him in his career.
In our Basic Folk conversation, Josh shares anecdotes from his childhood, including memories of his journalist mother interviewing legendary musicians and the backstage snacks that left a lasting impression. He reflects on his early musical influences, the role of music in his family, and how his parents supported his passion for music from a young age. Then we dive into Josh’s experiences playing in bands in New York City during his high school years and how those formative experiences shaped his relationship with music and the city itself.
As a producer, Josh discusses his approach to working with artists by emphasizing the importance of capturing the raw, live energy of a performance. He talks about his instrumental album, What Do the People in Your Head Say to Each Other, and how embracing imperfection has become a central theme in his work. He also touches on his collaborations with notable musicians, including Bob Weir of the Grateful Dead, and the impact of those experiences on his career. Josh Kaufman is the most sought out producer in roots music these days. Look out for him producing some great records in 2025 and beyond.
(Editor’s Note: This December, we continue our annual series – see also: Dolly in December, Dawg in December, Dylan in December, and Del in December – by celebrating the iconic, trailblazing jam band, the Grateful Dead, all month long! We’ll be featuring the Grateful Dead as our Artist of the Month, celebrating their enormous impact on bluegrass and roots music over the next few weeks.
To kick off our coverage, BGS contributor Garret Woodward pens a heartfelt and personal AOTM reveal. Plus, don’t miss our exhaustive Essential Grateful Dead Playlist below.)
The single most profound moment within my 39 years of existence (thus far) is the first time I heard the Grateful Dead. Not far behind that life-altering experience were my initial encounter with LSD (in high school) and finally cracking open Jack Kerouac’s seminal 1957 novel, On the Road (in college).
Summer 1994. I was nine years old and living a simple, yet happily mischievous childhood in the small North Country community of Rouses Point, New York. One mile from the Canadian Border. One mile from the state line of Vermont. Solitude. Desolation. Rural America. Mornings spent building tree forts and wandering vast cornfields surrounding my childhood home. Afternoons jumping off the dock into nearby Lake Champlain.
Even at that time, I was a bona fide music freak. Whether it was Top 40 radio (Gin Blossoms, Melissa Etheridge, Collective Soul, Sheryl Crow) blasting out of the small boom box in my bedroom or whatever my parents shoved into the cassette deck in the family minivan (Willie Nelson, Beatles, Rolling Stones, Nat King Cole, George Jones), I was in search of “the sound.”
But, everything in my existence changed one evening that summer at a family cookout at our camp on the lake. Sitting at the picnic table — chowing down on some burgers, beans and potato salad — I noticed a hat my aunt’s boyfriend was wearing. The logo on the front was of a dancing bear, with the back featuring a skull with a lightning bolt. I inquired.
“It’s the Grateful Dead,” he replied with a Cheshire Cat grin emerging from a bushy beard. “Have you ever listened to the Dead, man?” No, I replied. After dinner, he walked me over to his early 1990s Volkswagen Jetta. He hopped in, rolled the windows down and turned on the stereo. Again, with a grin, as if he knew what was going to happen once he pressed play and cranked the volume.
It was the Skeletons from the Closet album. The opening tune, “The Golden Road (To Unlimited Devotion),” hit me like an undulating series of waves in some endless ocean of melodic tones and lyrical truths. It was just like when Dorothy Gale entered the world of color in The Wizard of Oz.
Nothing really was ever the same after that moment. It was not only the first music I’d discovered on my own – without the radio or my parents’ influence – the Dead, for some unexplained reason at the time, immediately became “my band.” Something clicked deeply inside of me. I awoke. And I had arrived.
Soon, a seismic shift occurred in my adolescent life. I wore Dead shirts to my Catholic elementary school to the dismay of the nuns. Tacked up Jerry Garcia posters on my bedroom wall. The swirling sensation of “Sugar Magnolia” or “St. Stephen” echoing from the boom-box. Incense burning on the windowsill overlooking the cornfields and unknown horizon of my intent. I even had a small shrine to Jerry on my bookshelf for several years after he died. I was all-in.
Musically, the Dead were a bunch of incredibly talented bluegrass, folk, and jazz freaks, who were inspired by the onslaught of the Beatles to plug in and go electric. The band itself was this massive sponge, one which soaked in any and all influences it crossed paths with — either onstage or merely wandering down the road of life. That authentic sense of curiosity and discovery is key to the Dead’s magic throughout its decades of improvisational splendor.
At its core, the Dead’s message resonated within my often-bullied and ignored self as a kid. If you like the Dead, you’ll always find a friend out there in the universe to connect with. The band’s symbols are beacons of love, compassion, and acceptance once you walk out the front door. In essence, I’d found my tribe, this wild-‘n’-wondrous ensemble of loving oddballs, eccentric weirdos, and all-around jovial folk. My kind of people, who remain so to this day.
The Dead is about personal freedom. To not only be yourself, but to also seek out the intrinsic beauty of people, places and things in this big ol’ world of ours. Have adventures. Pursue wisdom. Radiate love. Be kind. Damnit, be kind. All of these things offered from the music and its followers were placed in my emotional and spiritual toolbox as I began to wander the planet on my own following high school, college and impending adulthood.
And here I stand. Age 39. That nine-year-old discovering the Dead is still inside of me somewhere, still burning incense and blasting “St. Stephen.” That youngster’s excitement for all things music (especially live), endless curiosity for what lies just around the corner, and running with a reckless abandon towards the unknowns of tomorrow are as strong and vibrant as ever — especially through this ongoing catalyst that is my career in the written word.
Case in point, I recently headed to the Bluegrass Music Hall of Fame & Museum in Owensboro, Kentucky, for another celebratory weekend for its current exhibit: “Jerry Garcia: A Bluegrass Journey,” on assignment and on the ground covering the festivities. An incredibly curated collection of rare Garcia artifacts and wisdom, the showcase will run onsite until next spring.
Before the inception of the Grateful Dead, Garcia was completely immersed in the bluegrass and folk scenes in the San Francisco Bay area in the late 1950s and early 1960s. He was part of numerous acoustic acts and ensembles throughout the bountiful period — the culmination of that vast knowledge and in-depth experience being poured into the Dead’s formation in 1965.
To note, there’s a lot to be said about Garcia’s talents on the banjo being applied to what would become his signature tone on the electric guitar. And to that notion, add in the sheer lyrical aptitude of Robert Hunter, who not only penned many of the Dead’s iconic melodies, but was also on a parallel journey to Garcia’s early on and throughout the band’s 30-year trajectory.
And there I was in Owensboro, some 400 miles from my current home in Western North Carolina. Traveling for hours just to arrive on the mighty Ohio River – the state line of Kentucky and Indiana, this crossroads of the Southeast and Midwest. And for what? To push further and farther down the cosmic rabbit hole that is Jerry Garcia, the Grateful Dead, and those who follow.
The next 48 hours were a whirlwind of sound and scope. Seemingly endless tribute sets to Garcia and the Dead at the Woodward Theater inside the museum from the Kitchen Dwellers, Lindsay Lou, Fireside Collective, and members of the Infamous Stringdusters to late-night jam sessions in hotel rooms next door.
The Grateful Dead are arguably the only musical entity to exist that – regardless of who or what genre is being represented – once one of their tunes is placed into a performance, folks either show up in droves or are already present with ears perked up to what’s radiating out from the stage. It’s a fact that no matter what style of music you play, if it involves the Dead in some form or fashion, Deadheads are game to check it out. You could be a polka group and we’ll be right there, standing front row, the second you roll into “Althea” or “Shakedown Street.” The music provides, always and forever.
Before I left Owensboro and the Garcia celebration at the museum, I found myself on a bourbon distillery tour on Saturday afternoon. I walked into the enormous facility and checked in with the host. All by myself and waiting for the tour to start, the host tapped me on the shoulder.
“You like the Dead?” his face lit up, pointing to the Dead stealie tattoo on the back of my right leg. “Sure do, my brother,” I shot back with a smile of solidarity. We talked about our favorite live Dead recordings and where we’ve caught Dead & Company in concert recently, kindred spirits now eternally connected by this band of roving musical pirates. It’s a genuine interaction that happens often to Deadheads and something I don’t ever take for granted.
Even as we stand in this uncertain time in American history – where nothing is the same, everything is the same – the Grateful Dead remain this portal to escape, to purposely choose compassion, camaraderie, and community. It’s about cultivation of one’s self and of the sheer magnitude and gratitude of daily life, so long as you stroll this earth with the pure and honest intent to connect, to listen, and to understand.
6:35pm – Billy Strings kicks off Night Two at the Hollywood Bowl with “Whiskey River.” It’s the same song as the first night but it’s a welcome repeat number (and face).
Billy Strings by Randall Michelson
6:39pm – Ethan Hawke opens the show, saying “Willie has always stood for equality,” so it’s no surprise to see the next guest…
6:40pm – It’s Orville Peck in a sleeveless vest (Aren’t his arms cold?! It’s freezing tonight) and his classic fringed mask. Performs “Cowboys Are Frequently, Secretly Fond of Each Other.” Makes use of the full Hollywood Bowl stage – he is owning this moment.
6:45pm – Charley Crockett. “Yesterday’s Wine.” Lady in box next to me states loudly, “Now this is real country.”
6:49pm – Allison Russell and Norah Jones do “Seven Spanish Angels.” These two voices are so perfectly in sync… please call me as soon as they do a duet record together.
6:56pm – Chelsea Handler introduces Dwight Yoakam for “Me and Paul.”
7:05pm – Waylon Payne and Margo Price take the stage together for “Georgia On A Fast Train.” These two are having the absolute best time together. Their chemistry is off the charts. From the box next to me, I hear a fan whisper under their breath, “MARGO IS MOTHER.” Couldn’t agree more.
Margo Price by Randall Michelson
7:14pm – Particle Kid (aka Willie’s younger son, Micah) along with Daniel Lanois. “I went to the garage and got high as shit and wrote a Willie Nelson song.” The lyrics come from a phrase his dad said one day: “If I die when I’m high I’ll be halfway to heaven, or I might have a long way to fall.”
7:19pm – Dame Helen Mirren (!) introduces Rodney Crowell. Emmylou joins mid-song for “‘Till I Gain Control Again.” Crowd goes bananas.
Emmylou Harris by Randall Michelson
7:33pm – Rosanne Cash does “Pancho and Lefty.” Totally different interpretation compared to Night One (where it was performed by Willie and George Strait), but a universally beautiful song nonetheless.
7:46pm – Lyle Lovett melting hearts and brains on “My Heroes Have Always Been Cowboys”
7:53pm – The “Aloha State Statesman” Jack Johnson performs one of the only non-Willie catalogue songs of the night, “Willie Got Me Stoned and Took All My Money.” He wrote it after Willie got him stoned and took all his money (in a poker game).
Jack Johnson by Jay Blakesberg, Blackbird Productions
7:57pm – Beck (in sunglasses). First artist to acknowledge the unreal house band. “Can you imagine waking up in the morning and opening your eyes and realizing ‘I’m Willie Nelson’? It’s already a great day.” Performs “Blue Eyes Crying In The Rain.”
8:03pm – TOM JONES! One of the most unexpected joys of the night. His love for Willie shines through in his performance of “Across the Borderline.”
Tom Jones by Josh Timmermans
8:12pm – Surprise guest host Woody Harrelson takes the stage. “Not to self-promote, but just so you guys know, I did open a dispensary… seems like the right audience.” He introduces the legendary Bob Weir. Billy Strings and Margo Price join Bob on stage for a fun and enthusiastic “Stay All Night (Stay a Little Longer).” Margo is having the most fun tonight.
Billy Strings, Margo Price, Bob Weir by Jay Blakesberg, Blackbird Productions
8:18pm – Shooter Jennings and Lukas Nelson together! The next generation doing their fathers proud with own rendition of “Good Hearted Woman.”
Shooter Jennings, Lukas Nelson by Randall Michelson
8:22pm – Lukas performs a heart-wrenching version of “Angel Flying Too Close to the Ground.” Sounds so much like his dad yet simultaneously unique to himself. He has all 18,000 attendees in the palm of his hand.
8:29pm – The Avett Brothers. Wow. They sound so good, and fresh off the MerleFest stage just 48 hours prior. It’s been a few years since I saw them and gosh I missed them.
8:40pm – Chelsea Handler introduces Norah Jones, who performs an instrumental ode to Bobbie Nelson.
8:43pm – Norah brings on Kris Kristofferson (!) and helps him through “Help Me Make It Through the Night.” There’s not a dry eye in the house.
Kris Kristofferson, Norah Jones by Randall Michelson
8:49pm – Ethan Hawke introduces Nathaniel Rateliff. Not unlike the first evening (where he performed “City of New Orleans”) he steals the show with “A Song For You.” Rateliff is a national treasure who should be protected at all costs.
8:54pm – Sheryl Crow does “Crazy.” Crowd (rightfully) goes Crazy.
9:02pm – Dave Matthews, overflowing with sheepish charisma, tells an amazing story about getting high with Willie on his bus and how proud his mom was of that moment. The photo of that night is still prominently displayed on her mantle. He performs “Funny How Time Slips Away,” a song that seems to be the theme of the night.
Dave Matthews by Randall Michelson
9:18pm – Jamey Johnson and Warren Haynes perform “Georgia On My Mind.” From the first word Jamey sings, the audience goes wild. These two bring down the house.
9:28pm – The Children of the Highwaymen, including Lukas and Micah Nelson (Particle Kid), Shooter Jennings, and Rosanne Cash. One of the few moments during the show with technical difficulties.
Woody Harrelson, Willie Nelson by Randall Michelson
9:35pm – Woody Harrelson returns to the stage to introduce Willie. The man of the hour finally takes the stage. Willie performs “Stardust.” It is perfect. I am crying.
9:53pm – Willie duets with his longtime studio producer, Buddy Cannon, on “Something You Get Through” (which the two wrote together).
10:02pm – KEITH RICHARDS JUST WALKED OUT. I AM DECEASED. It’s hard to even remember what they performed because everyone is in such shock. (They performed “We Had It All” and “Live Forever”).
Willie Nelson, Keith Richards by Randall Michelson
10:10pm – All skate. “On the Road Again” of course. Willie wraps up the night by taking us all to church, ending with a medley of “Will the Circle Be Unbroken” and “I’ll Fly Away.” It’s going to take an awfully long time to process everything from this weekend.
Although she’s been an entertainer for decades, Wynonna says she hasn’t ever been much for making music around the house – at least not until this year.
“I think it’s because I was so famous at 18 that the time home was spent just being quiet, because my world was so noisy,” she tells BGS. “Somebody who came to stay with us for a couple of days made a comment, ‘How come I never hear you hum or sing around the house?’ And I looked at her and I was like, ‘I don’t know!’ I had never thought of it.”
If nothing else, life in quarantine has given this country legend time to think. After all, she’s been touring since the ‘80s, first with the Judds, then as a solo artist, and eventually some of both. 2020 is the first extended break she’s taken since late ’94 and early ’95, for the birth of her son, Elijah, who is now a first responder. (She’s making a lunch for him as we’re speaking.) Off the road now for six months, she says her routine has gone from staring off into space every night, to doing Facebook Live sessions with her husband Cactus Moser, to calling up old friends and dusting off her vinyl records.
And to show for her efforts, she’s releasing an EP of covers titled Recollections. The five-song set offers her intimate, off-the-cuff renditions of classics like Grateful Dead’s “Ramblin’ Rose,” Nina Simone’s “Feelin’ Good” and John Prine’s “Angel From Montgomery,” with some of the project’s audio tracks taken directly from her Facebook live sets. She called BGS from her farm in Franklin, Tennessee, to talk about all of it, and offered a film recommendation, too.
BGS: While listening to this EP, I was pleased to hear that you and I have the same favorite verse of “Angel From Montgomery.” What was on your mind when you recorded that one?
Wynonna: Well, it’s tough and it’s a part of life… I was in the living room and I was just practicing. I haven’t done this much practicing in a long time, but I’m home and what else is there to do?! [Laughs] And I got a text from my agent who was a personal friend of John Prine and his family, and he said that John had passed. I sat there, and it’s one of those weird moments in your life when you get that call. I was overwhelmed, sitting there, and all of a sudden — I’m not kidding — I just started to play it on my guitar. I thought, “Oh my God! Oh my God!” I’ve known this song since I was 15 years old, and I started playing it like I played it all those years ago.
I kid you not, Cactus comes in and I looked at him, he looked at me, and I started singing it – he got tears in his eyes, because it was a moment. It’s like that moment when you stand there doing your vows, it’s just a heavy moment. And I said, “I think we need to do this tonight.” So we did it on Facebook Live, which is what you’re hearing. We’re sitting there together and it’s me paying tribute to my hero. One of my heroes is John Prine and we must not forget what this man gave to us. It was one of those sweet, beautiful moments of reflection on my part of how far I’ve come as an artist.
I know you play acoustic guitar on that, too. Which guitar did you play?
I played the biggest Gibson you can get. I’ve always played a big guitar, for obvious reasons. I’ve always felt like the one I have is my weapon. It’s like the biggest guitar you can buy. I was 18 years old and I needed — like when soldiers go into battle and like in Game of Thrones they’d always hold up the shield — it’s my shield. It’s my weapon. So, yeah, I just played it that night and he recorded it and kept it. I said, “Honey, I think this is important.” Because it’s a snapshot of my experience that day.
I love to hear you sing “Feelin’ Good.” I’d read you sang this at a women’s prison, too. Tell me about that experience.
Pretty deep. It was pretty deep. I had played down the hair. I thought, “Now is not the time. I’m not on stage.” I found myself being in that moment with the women. I was standing there, telling my story, talking to the women. It was one of those moments where I don’t know what to say. … So, I just started to sing. I think it made a difference in the room, because these women could sit there for a moment and feel better. That’s what I do as my go-to — I start singing.
I don’t know what you do, but we all have a coping skill, and I think for me that day it was music. I think it’s an important as an artist to not forget your gift. Sometimes we can, if we get distracted. So, this time at home has been devastating at times, yet so life-giving, that the music reflects just that. You’ll hear tough and tender in my voice because there are days when I can’t even get out of bed without crying. And then there are some days I hop out of bed and I am freakin’ Wonder Woman.
Now that you’ve been home probably longer than you ever have in your life, have you developed any morning routines to propel you through your day?
So, on March 14, I cleared the bus. I’ve had a bus since 1984, so that was bizarre. It was like moving to another country. I came into the house and I went, “What the hell do I do now?” So I spent five weeks – you can tell I counted – of doing absolutely nothing. I got really frustrated, because I was lost! It was 8 o’clock at night and I would stare off into the night and go, “I should be doing a show. I should be with my fans. I should be with people. I should be on the road.”
Wynonna and Cactus Moser
I found myself doing nothing. And I think that’s what I needed. I’m going to do a testimonial. I’m writing a book in my head right now, and I’m going to put it to paper, like you as a writer: “What do I do today? What did I do today? What did I want to do today? What do I have to do today?” And how do you find life in that? So I went through the same stuff you have, like most of my fan family: “What do I do?” …
And I started to practice. My husband goes, “Yeah, honey, um… I don’t know if you’ve done this in a while.” It took a minute though. I had to self-start, which was hard for me, because I’ve always been given my schedule, and I go to the airport, and I hustle through, and I make it. You know what I’m saying? We’re used to doing and going and being really successful! What do you do when you’re home for six months?! What do you do, man!!
So when you say “practice,” were you practicing songwriting? Guitar?
Yes, all of it! I came home and, like the rest of America, I gained weight and let my roots grow out. I’m not wearing any undergarments. … And when you come home, and you’re on the farm – I haven’t left but maybe half a dozen times in six months — it’s very strange. What do you do? You have to find a new purpose. And my new purpose was writing, and I started calling people on the phone. Ooh!
You know how it is, you start reconnecting with people you want to reconnect with. There was a lot of forgiveness. There were a lot of relationships where I needed to go back and say, “Hey, man, I missed your wedding and I’m really, really sad about that.” Then you start a conversation. This is really important stuff, right? You don’t have time for that – you don’t make time for that – because you’re too busy being fabulous.
Have you been pulling out your vinyl records, too? And listening to music you’ve loved in the past?
Yep! I’m doing it in a way I needed to, and I don’t know that I would have if it hadn’t been for me being at home like I am. I’ll be honest. I was taught to be a doer, a mover and a shaker. I got caught up in that, and when I came home, I felt like, “If I put everything away, that means I’m stuck at home.” It took months and months and months, and finally I was like, “Oh, for God’s sake, I’m tired of looking at all my stage clothes and my undergarments! Put ‘em away!” And I was like, “No, I don’t want to because that means you’re dead!”
Anyway, I did it, and I thought, “You have to find life at home, woman!” You know, you’ve got life on the road. What is it like at home? So I started to do that, and I started to… listen to music! I started to watch documentaries. You have to watch the two-part documentary on Laurel Canyon. You have to watch it, dude, you have to. You know why? Because it’s important! You see the Eagles, when they’re teenagers, and they’re in L.A. trying to write songs. You see Jackson Browne, who’s 19, standing in line at the Whisky a Go Go. It’s awesome!
BGS did a story on that movie and interviewed Chris Hillman about it, too. It’s a fascinating history.
Oh, that’s another thing! I wanted to throw this in here: So I started to have a beautiful relationship with people I never see, and Chris is one of them. Because I got the number from my husband, I’m texting Robert Weir — and he’s texting me back! And I’m going, “OK… what are the chances?!” [Laughs]
Bob Weir’s on this new record, too.
He is, and it started out being a little bit of a dare. Cactus said, “I want you to learn a Grateful Dead song,” and I said, “Why?” Seriously, I said “Why?” Now, how arrogant is that?! I didn’t understand, not really. All of a sudden I’m learning the song and I’m going, “What the heck is this line about writing Frankenstein?” Then I started learning the song’s history and the meaning of it, so now I’ve become a student of rock ‘n’ roll. I started to study and learn the song and understand. “Ramble on Rose” – oh, there’s a story here. It’s not just a song that’s in the background as you’re smoking a joint!
I believe that when something is a God thing, and meant to be, it’s easy. There’s an ease to it. It doesn’t require an agenda or manipulation. And the next thing I know — and this is no exaggeration — the guy, the legend, the man is coming to Nashville to do something with Dwight Yoakam. And he’s at our gate! We’re buzzing him in to come down to the home studio, which is basically a shed with a lot of nice flooring. And we do a song together! And I go, well, nobody would believe me: “Hey, Robert Weir’s over here and we’re singing ‘Ramble on Rose.’ Yeah, cool!” [Laughs] It’s just fun and I want to get away with as much of this as I possibly can.
Although in-person plans for Americanafest are on hold this year, fans of roots music can still take part in celebrating the music, no matter where they are.
From September 16th to the 18th, Thriving Roots: A Virtual Community Music Conference will host intimate conversations between pairings you won’t find anywhere else.
In August, the Americana Music Association Foundation (AMAF) revealed programming featuring director Judd Apatow in conversation with The Avett Brothers; Bob Weir with Oteil Burbridge; Béla Fleck with Sierra Hull; and Sarah Jarosz with John Leventhal and Chris Thile. The latest programming information also includes talks on empowering today’s creatives, developing streaming strategies and musicians in recovery.
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Apatow will sit down with The Avett Brothers to discuss the intersection of film and music, as well as the fine line between fine art and commerce. In 2017, Apatow co-directed the band’s critically acclaimed documentary, May It Last: A Portrait of The Avett Brothers. Since then, The Avett Brothers have released their new album, The Third Gleam.
The music that fans know and love from their favorite artists simply wouldn’t exist without the innovative musicians who came before them. Weir will sit down with fellow Dead & Company member Burbridge as they explore the inspirations and influence Black musicians have had on the Grateful Dead.
Now more than ever, musicians continue to push and blur the confines of genres to create the art they want to make. Fleck and Hull will speak to how roots music transcends and connects with a wide range of audiences during “Music Without Boundaries.” When it comes to creating that art in the studio, a producer’s ability to understand an artist’s vision is an integral part of the creative process. Moderated by Thile, Jarosz and Leventhal will delve into the connections forged between the artist and producer evident on her latest project, World on the Ground.
Additional new programming includes “Independent Control: The Power of Collaboration,” an inside look into how Americana industry professionals are empowering their independent artists to retain full creative control and the benefits of assembling a hand-picked team. Moderated by Jessica Nicholls (Metropolitan Groove Merchants), this discussion will include Blair Clark (Brooklyn Basement Records), Maria Ivey (IVPR) and Michelle Szeto (Paquin Entertainment Group).
In the streaming era, an abundance of digital resources can be found at the fingertips of industry and artist professionals, but how does one optimize those helpful tools? Led by Mike Fabio (New West Records), “Building a Streaming Strategy in 2020” rounds up Charles Alexander (Systemic), Margaret Hart (YouTube), Margaret Jacobi Lee (AMFM Management), Laura Ohls (Spotify) and Amy Wright (DittyTV) for a talk on developing real-world strategies that lead to increasing listenership and growing a solid fanbase.
Presented by Promises Behavioral Health, “The Show Must Go On: Musicians in Recovery” will find artists Phil Bogard and Jaime Wyatt in conversation with Shireen Janti (MusiCares) and Shane Ramer (That Sober Guy Podcast) about the road to recovery while offering how to find treatment and how others can take practical steps toward becoming a sober creator.
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Previously announced Thriving Roots programming includes intimate conversations between Brandi Carlile and Yola; Emmylou Harris and Ken Burns; and Jackson Browne and Mavis Staples. Rosanne Cash will bring together Ry Cooder, Angela Davis, Bonnie Raitt and Alice Randall for “Love and Vigilance,” a look at the history of protest music.
Moreover, RIAA Chairman/CEO Mitch Glazier and COO Michele Ballalynte will share an update on the music industry during “Record Setting” while looking at current trends and sharing their outlook. There will also be artist-friendly songwriting workshops and case studies like Mary Gauthier’s “Accessing the Universal in Your Songs: Mercy Now,” Taj Mahal’s “Music Is the Healing Voice” and an artist development breakdown with Black Pumas.
With over 50 panel discussions and more than 40 special events filled with music, Thriving Roots will bring the Americana music community together from across the world for three full days of engaging insight from its top industry professionals and leading artists.
Adding to the slate of artist conversations music fans won’t want to miss is Linda Ronstadt offering a behind-the-scenes look at Linda and the Mockingbirds, a new documentary that chronicles her 2019 journey with Jackson Browne and Mexican-American song and dance troupe Los Cenzontles to her grandfather’s hometown in Mexico, resulting in a tale of immigration, family and music. Moderated by esteemed journalist Randy Lewis, attendees will be able to watch the film screening and hear insight from the musical icon alongside the doc’s producer/director James Keach and Los Cenzontles founder Eugene Rodriguez.
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The Lumineers’ Jeremiah Fraites and Wesley Schultz will sit down with renowned filmmaker M. Night Shyamalan for an engaging discussion on the importance of retaining creative control of your art. In addition, Kathleen Edwards will speak with acclaimed Program Director Rita Houston (WFUV) about her new album Total Freedom, which marks her triumphant return to music after an eight-year hiatus from the business.
The common threads and differences of the Americana and country music worlds will be explored during “Ladies, Your Roots Are Showing,” presented by Change the Conversation. Moderated by CTC co-founder Tracy Gershon with freelance music journalist Marissa Moss, this panel session rounds up Brandy Clark, Tanya Tucker and Lee Ann Womack to share how they’ve been able to successfully navigate both worlds while maintaining their artistic integrity. They’ll also reveal the challenges and memorable moments they’ve experienced during their respective careers.
Reigning Legacy of Americana Award (co-presented by the Americana Music Association and the National Museum of African American Music) recipient Rhiannon Giddens joins NPR’s Ann Powers and the legendary Taj Mahal to discuss the theme of “Music is the Healing Voice.”
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Music buffs should also tune into a special virtual edition of “Songlines Music Meeting,” an Americanafest fan-favorite. Sean Coakley and Leslie Rouffé will once again invite listeners to hear mostly unreleased tunes and score them during the live session, leading to a discussion on how music programmers in various media formats select the songs they feature.
Aside from plenty of educational and networking opportunities, Thriving Roots attendees will have a chance to unwind and recharge with immersive virtual events and lifestyle breaks. Valerie June will walk folks through a guided meditation that explores how to center oneself using ancient teachings. Big Machine Label Group will spotlight The Cadillac Three, Sheryl Crow and Ray Wylie Hubbard with some must-see musical performances.
During “Aw Heck: An Oh Boy Music Break,” join the late John Prine’s own record label Oh Boy Records for a celebration of their talented roster which includes Tré Burt, Arlo McKinley, Dan Reeder and Kelsey Waldon. For “Come Hear NC,” experience the rich music of North Carolina featuring Hiss Golden Messenger, Jim Lauderdale, Mandolin Orange, Steep Canyon Rangers and more.
Pictured above in composite: Top Row (L-R): Judd Apatow, The Avett Brothers, Oteil Burbridge; Middle Row: Béla Fleck, Sierra Hull, Sarah Jarosz; Bottom Row: John Leventhal, Chris Thile, Bob Weir
Artist:Molly Tuttle Hometown: Palo Alto, California / Nashville, Tennessee Song: “Standing on the Moon” (Feat. Taylor Goldsmith of Dawes) Album:…but i’d rather be with you Release Date: August 28, 2020 Record Label: Compass Records
In Their Words: “I didn’t grow up listening to a lot of Grateful Dead music, but being raised in the San Francisco Bay Area, the Dead was part of the mythology of my family and the area I grew up in (kind of how I imagine people who grew up in Tennessee, where I live now, might feel about Dolly Parton). Our specific family lore was that Jerry Garcia had gone to my high school (Palo Alto High) and my mom’s older sister, my Aunt Titia, knew them and used to take guitar lessons from Bob Weir in Menlo Park. That’s a roundabout way of explaining that this song means so much to me, because it brings me back to my roots. Even though I love Nashville, sometimes I do feel like I’m standing on the moon wishing I were with my friends and family in San Francisco. The line, ‘A lovely view of heaven, but I’d rather be with you’ is my favorite and it’s why I named the album …but I’d rather be with you. Life is messy and imperfect but I’d rather be here in it with all of you!” — Molly Tuttle
“One of the greatest feats as a musician, in my opinion, is taking a Grateful Dead song and creating a version of it that goes beyond the stigmatized identity of a ‘Dead Cover.’ It’s hard to do and takes a lot of courage to make it happen. But Molly reached for that brass ring and then somehow even went beyond it. Her version has given the song new parameters, makes me feel new things, and surpasses any sort of referential quality and becomes Molly’s own song. I’m just happy I got to be one small part of bringing it to life.” — Taylor Goldsmith
Bob Weir and Wolf Brothers turned their Nashville gig into a tornado relief concert and, yes, we are grateful for it. On Saturday night, Weir welcomed many special guests to the Ryman Auditorium stage, including Frankie Ballard, Jamey Johnson, Buddy Miller, Margo Price, and Mickey Raphael.
Josh Ritter is, at his core, a wordsmith. His proclivity for words — for their exactitude, potency, and even magic — comes out in his lyrical prowess. He not only summarizes an experience with perceptive poetic force, but also heightens its impact with clever rhythmic structuring. It’s why when he sings “Our love would live a half-life on the surface” from his apocalyptic love song “The Temptation of Adam” (off 2007’s The Historical Conquests of Josh Ritter), the line delivers the linguistic equivalent of a gut punch for anyone who has known the kind of love that cannot survive its own origin story. When choosing the name for his newest album, Gathering, Ritter had storms in mind, but of course the meaning didn’t cease there. The homonym touches on many interrelated themes, but at the album’s crux lies a reckoning. As he enters middle age, Ritter gathers together his many parts in order to see who he is, why certain behaviors from his youth still threaten to explode his world, and what to make of being a man at this present moment.
As Gathering explores these different pieces, Ritter amalgamates an array of musical styles. The opening “Shaker Love Song (Leah)” feels hymnal, but he doesn’t stay in that reverent moment long. Instead, he jumps to “Showboat,” a blues-tinged soul-pop number that juxtaposes the artifice of masculinity with natural imagery. Then there’s the spoken word-influenced “Dreams” (replete with a spine-tingling piano riff), the soothing “When Will I Be Changed” with bard Bob Weir adding his balm-like voice, and the country-leaning “Feels Like Lightning.” Gathering is undoubtedly a hodgepodge, a shattered mirror refracting Ritter’s various and moving parts, all of which still frustrate, still confuse, and still excite him. At an age when conventional wisdom says people are supposed to have it all figured out, he instead throws himself into the act of questioning. Ritter has summoned something with Gathering: an attempt to dismantle those myths — both personal and otherwise — that loom over the horizon.
You begin with “Shaker Love Song” which, in a way, feels like an incantation. What spirit did you hope to invoke for this album?
It’s based on a traditional Shaker hymn. It’s one that’s been in my head since, maybe, 12 or 13. I don’t remember where I first heard it; it was just one of those songs that used to be in the American bloodstream. I think what I wanted to convey, as I go back now and listen to the record, is a real sense of calm. I feel like it’s important to show the moment before, and then things can smash in.
It has a sense of the sublime about it, like watching something really dangerous from a safe distance and being able to witness its beauty.
That’s really interesting. I think of sublime, too, as in right before you go over the waterfall.
Storms played a large thematic part in this project, but in terms of “gathering,” there are so many other meanings. How do you think those definitions wove their way into your songwriting?
It’s always an interesting moment when the record is done and I’m sitting there figuring out what order the songs are going in. I really like that moment, and it’s usually where the title will start to appear. Sometimes with records, the title comes right at once. It’s an idea. Other times, you sort through names and you’re waiting for something. Usually, the title comes out and it blazes into your mind. With Gathering, that’s how it was. I remember somewhere along the way reading and the word lit on fire for me. It’s an old, magical sounding word. It feels ancient: The gathering of storms, or gathering yourself together, or gathering like an anthology, or when they say “daydreaming,” kind of wool-gathering. I loved all those things and they came together with the title.
It makes sense, given your proclivity for writing.
When the title’s right, it’s a great feeling. It feels, for me, like the final moment of a record is when you give it a name.
So you still get light bulb moments from language? That hasn’t been dulled in any way?
I don’t know why this works, but it makes sense to me. It’s the magical side of writing.
Right. I think I’m possibly projecting here in how technology or the constant exposure to language via social media has seemed to strip them of their power, or at least their impact doesn’t feel as potent.
The great thing about writing is, it continues on through all these different modes. It’s such an exciting time that words can still be magic.
Indeed. I think we need it more than ever.
Yeah! And it’s there, and songs are part of an oral culture. It’s beautiful. For me, the songs — not my own, but people whose music I love — I carry with me in a way I can’t carry around a book. Songs are such spells.
If we’re talking spells and myths pertaining to the word “gathering,” what of your own myth-making are you still reckoning with as a songwriter?
I would say that the prevailing myth — the big thing that is always unfolding itself beyond the whole idea of the human condition — is the condition of being American now. What is it to be American and to live in a country with such huge myths of its own, and strange desperate history as we have? I think that is a deep well to draw from and one that I’m always going to. Within the big American idea are so many myths and stories and jokes and sadness. It’s immense.
It is. I could see how it comes out especially on “Showboat.” It’s this fascinating negotiation with masculinity that relies on nature to achieve that façade.
It’s from Shakespeare. I think it’s called the “pathetic fallacy,” when the natural world takes on elements of human emotion: The idea that the eclipse is an omen. I love that stuff.
Do you find yourself navigating different ideas of masculinity within the American myth?
Oh, yeah. Masculinity is something that you’re continually trying to understand. I am tremendously lucky and privileged. Becoming a father and becoming a partner — all these different facets of myself — and, with them, come along the insecurities that I can all too easily see in myself. As much as you claim to never try and write from autobiography, it all comes from me. The big talking and all that stuff is something I can look at with a jaundiced eye, but I understand it all too well. I understand the other side of it. It’s a funny thing.
Did fatherhood, in any way, soften your penchant for speaking so candidly?
I wouldn’t say it softened it. It’s honed it in a lot of ways. Suddenly I have a daughter who will almost be five and, in a way that I wouldn’t when I was 25, I’m looking at the world as one my daughter’s going to have to negotiate. What’s going to be her experience in this world? And what’s my responsibility toward making that a world as positive and good and supportive a place for her as I can? And not just within my family, but within larger culture. That feels very personal to me in a way that things haven’t always. I think that comes out in the songs.
You mentioned, as an artist or public persona, creating a world where there’s space for her. How have you tried to do that?
As important as it is for me to be myself when I write, it’s important for me to stand up for the things that I believe in. As a songwriter, I’ve grown up in the shadow of some huge historical figures, like Bob Dylan. The idea of being a cipher at a time like this, and the idea of not speaking out at a time like this — especially from a point of having something to say and having a platform to say it — it strikes me as you’re kinda missing out on a big part of letting your personality out. This is who I am. I found I have so many strong beliefs these days, things that I would really fight for, ideas that I’m trying to live with. I believe it’s important to speak and act.
Yeah, it’s not a time for weak beliefs anymore.
No, it’s not, and it’s not a time to divorce your ideas from your work. You can only write what you’re gonna write, you know? But it’s not a time to be mysterious when you’re talking about people’s lives, and who people are allowed to love, and how people are allowed to live. It’s a strange moment.
It’s a strange moment, but I think all the more exciting for its potential. Before we end, I have to ask about the Bob Weir collaboration. Did he provide any insight into that central question you pose, “When will I be changed?”
I grew up around hymns. I was raised in a very religious family, but I don’t consider myself to be a conventional believer anymore. I thought, “There’s gotta be a song for that moment when you’re hoping for transcendence or you’re hoping to become the person who’s good enough to find your way back home.” That’s what the song is about, and when I finished recording it and I sat with it for a while, it wasn’t quite done. It lacked something. Working with Bob on all these songs for his record, I so immediately fell in love with his voice and his experience and thought, “If Bob would sing this song, it would give it that emotional depth.” He’s amazing to work with; he’s so much fun. Getting to be there while he’s creating something is incredible. I’m really excited to work with him when we get the chance.
It seems like it’s myth-making for your own personal legacy.
It’s amazing to work with somebody whose music is really in the American water.
Photo credit: Laura Wilson
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