The Show On The Road – Nicole Atkins

This week on The Show On The Road, a conversation with Nicole Atkins, a singer/songwriter  out of Neptune City, New Jersey who has become notorious for making her own brand of theatrical boardwalk soul. 

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The Show On The Road host Z. Lupetin fell in love with Atkins’ newest, harmony-rich record, Italian Ice, which came out spring 2020 and was recorded in historic Muscle Shoals, Alabama. Both rumblingly ominous and joyously escapist, standout songs like “Domino” make the record a perfectly David Lynch-esque summer soundtrack of an uneasy 2020 scene that vacillates between fits of intense creativity and innovation and deep despair. Toiling below the radar for much of her career, Atkins is finally enjoying nationwide recognition as a sought-after writer and producer; Italian Ice was co-produced by Atkins and Ben Tanner of Alabama Shakes.

While some may try to shoehorn Nicole Atkins into the Americana and roots-rock categories, one could better describe her as a new kind of wild-eyed Springsteen, who also mythologized the decaying beauty of New Jersey’s coastal towns like Asbury Park, or a similarly huge-voiced, peripatetic Linda Ronstadt who isn’t afraid to mix sticky French-pop grooves with AM radio doo-wop, ’70s blaxploitation R&B and airy jazz rock like her heroes in the band Traffic. If you watch her weekly streaming variety show, “Live From The Steel Porch” (which she initially filmed from her parents’ garage in NJ, but now does from her new home in Nashville), you’ll see her many sonic tastes and musical friends gathering in full effect. Italian Ice features a heady collection of collaborators including Britt Daniel of Spoon, Seth Avett, Erin Rae, and John Paul White.

After playing guitar and moving in and out of hard-luck bar bands in Charlotte and New York — many of which that would find any way to get rid of their one female member — Atkins’ bold first solo record Neptune City dropped in 2007 and three more acclaimed LPs followed, including her twangy, oddball breakout, Goodnight Rhonda Lee in 2017 on John Paul White’s Single Lock Records.

Much like the tart and brain-freezing treat sold on boardwalks around the world, Atkins’ newest work is a refreshing and many-flavored thing and demonstrates that, in a lot of ways, the show-stopping performer, producer, and songwriter has finally embraced all the sharp edges of her personality.


Photo credit: Anna Webber

MIXTAPE: Daniel Rodriguez’s Songs of Authenticity

I love all types of music and song. How beautiful a thing to hear the invisible insides of someone shared outwardly. A culmination of dynamic forces, experiences and sensibilities dialed into pulsating, Pythagorean waveforms, giving color to the space in between. The only catch is we have to trust what we’re hearing is authentic. Whether it’s the tonal intention of a singer or the specific touch of an instrumentalist, the song has to move me in some way or else I’m changing the station. Authenticity is subjective to each listener where no authority exists, though goosebumps, tears, movement, lofty notions and inspiration have always been my litmus tests to playing something thrice or more.

Here’s a list of songs that have moved me in some way worthy of mention. Also, if you’re so moved, check out my album Sojourn of Burning Sun out on August 28. — Daniel Rodriguez

Bill Monroe – “Uncle Pen”

From what I hear, this song is Bill giving gratitude and paying tribute to his actual uncle, Pen [James Pendleton Vandiver]. Pen played the fiddle at family gatherings and inspired Bill to join the musical world. The song structure of “Uncle Pen,” though only a few chords, is kind of complex. It’s a jubilant song with a great melody and has those goosebumping, Appalachian harmonies that Bill and his band often showcased. Probably what I like most about the song is that it appears to skip a beat before the head of each verse. It happens during a G run directly after the chorus that impossibly lands at the head of the next section. Simple genius.

Gregory Alan Isakov – “Amsterdam”

I like pretty much all of Gregory’s songs and his recordings. Catching his band live or him solo is a remarkable experience. I’m lucky to call him a longtime friend and I keep my fandom of his music separate from that. Gregory paints imagery that is most times not specific, which leaves you, as a listener, more in an abstract state of mind. Yet he threads a powerful emotion throughout, which his voice and arrangements unavoidably invoke. He uses imagery of a woman often, which comes across as more a mythical character of the sacred feminine, rather than one of a romantic endeavor. This is apparent in “Amsterdam”: “That howling wind, she’s waving hi, her other hand’s in mine.” The song ascends towards the end in some epic way when Greg moves his voice up an octave and sings “Churches and trains, they all look the same to me now / They shoot you some place, while we ache to come home somehow.” Goosebumps to follow.

Bruce Springsteen – “Youngstown”

The Boss has never failed to paint us the pictures of the struggling American working class. Our popular culture seems to only highlight the celebrities and billionaires, and yet The Boss celebrates and sheds light on the untold stories of the common man, the backbone of our culture. His stories are always rich with the American story, full of its hypocrisies and triumphs. “Youngstown” paints a very real picture of the uphill and endless bogging down of industry and war. The arrangement has a suiting Americana feel, stripped down and intimate. The pedal steel and fiddle give an eerie voice to the emotion of the character in the story who sings, “My sweet Jenny, I’m sinking down, here darling in Youngstown.”

John Prine – “Lake Marie”

When John Prine passed on earlier this year I cried constantly for three days. I’ve been lucky enough to catch him live more than a few times at festivals that we both played. The authenticity in his delivery has healing properties that only a few possess. John touches on all the hidden sadnesses and joys of humanity, and gives color to the seemingly opaque hidden corners of the human condition. “Lake Marie” is a special song with all the ingredients: New love, tenured love, relationship struggles and cold-blooded murder. John delivers this story in a very light-hearted and humorous way. He speaks the verses and accentuates certain parts, which become vital to the song’s DNA. The chorus is maybe the best chorus ever written, beautiful and joyous, juxtaposed with a very brutal and tragic story.

Levon Helm – “The Mountain” (written by Steve Earle)

Just like any song that Levon sings of someone else’s, he makes it his own. That is very much the case with “The Mountain” by Steve Earle. Steve recorded a great version of this song with Del McCoury, but my favorite version is the one Levon sings. It’s about the coal industry brutalizing the natural wonder of a homeplace. Removing mountaintops from where once majestic mountains stood. Filling in swimming holes that you once could cool off from the summer’s heat within its cool mountain runoff. Levon brings you there to those mountains, and he takes you to that swimming hole, and then he shows you the pain of it being no more.

Gillian Welch – “Everything is Free”

When speaking of Gillian’s songs it would be prudent to also mention David Rawlings. The line is blurred when trying to understand who wrote what — and it’s fitting that their voices in harmony become an entity of grace and grit that is alive and well. “Everything Is Free” is a song that hits home for the majority of musicians and artists who are at large suffering in an age where the fruits of their labors are taken for granted. This is certainly reflected by our culture, which would ironically feel the worth of music in its absence. In regards to this, Gillian sings: “If there’s something that you wanna hear you can sing it yourself.”

Leon Bridges – “River”

I’m not a religious person, but I am spiritual. Even though Leon uses biblical terminology in this beautiful song of yearning, and being cleansed from your sins — it’s the intention of the song that shines through and transcends all the negative connotations that might come with organized religion. It’s the true Christian values that are evoked here, of actively wanting to become a better person. It sounds like it was recorded live around one mic in a big room and really captures a beautiful moment of music.

Bob Dylan – “Murder Most Foul”

Bob is my favorite artist and songwriter. I love all the phases of his expression. I don’t subscribe to picking a favorite era or compare everything he creates to what he produced in the 1960s. This brings us to “Murder Most Foul,” a recent release of his. It is a nearly seventeen-minute song that talks about the day and days that followed the assassination of John F. Kennedy. Bob beautifully describes this tragic and heightened moment in history, giving us a stream of consciousness of images peripherally and directly happening around the time of the assassination. The production of this song is very minimal which allows the lyrics to be absorbed and breathe.

Mandolin Orange – “Wildfire”

Growing up and residing in the hills of North Carolina, Mandolin Orange has lived and been more than aware of the culture that exists below the Mason-Dixon Line. Not buying into the rhetoric of those holding on to the nostalgia of the Confederacy, Mandolin Orange gives a historical and psychological look at the wildfire that unfortunately still is fueled today. “Wildfire” is a bit of medicine to us all, and carries a hope that some who might need the medicine most. Listen to this song that is served in the musical genre of its commonplace.

The Del McCoury Band – “Hot Wired” (written by Shawn Camp)

This song is a hoot. It’s very well-written, witty and might even spark a belly laugh or two. It talks about all the things the author’s girlfriend is capable of hot-wiring. My favorite lyric is “She might hot wire your Chevy, she might hot wire your Ford / And if she ever gets to Heaven she might hot wire the Lord.” Del breaks the bluegrass rules on this song and introduces an electric guitar after singing about his girlfriend hot-wiring his acoustic guitar to play like the “doggone Rolling Stones.”

Billie Holiday – “Strange Fruit” (written by Abel Meeropol)

This song is so powerful. Billie Holiday recorded it in 1939. The emotion and dynamics of her timing are delivered in a powerful and haunting way. The fruit that hangs from the trees is not fruit at all. [The song’s titular analogy references lynchings of Black folks.] It is perplexing to me that humanity can stoop so low to such an evil as to think one is inferior to another, where murder is rationalized within such a vitriolic mindset. In this specific case it is rationalized within the minds of pale complexion below the Mason-Dixon line. How those trees still stand and the fruit still hangs, though embedded within policy, social structures, the psychology of an unexamined people and history books with whole chapters missing. Music and song throughout time has been utilized to pass stories down and convey emotions. This is a song that passes down and conveys a traumatic truth; its shockwaves still crash on the shores of our everyday.

Josh Ritter – “Girl in the War”

This is one of my favorite songs. I’ve had the fortunate opportunity to play a bunch of shows with Josh and actually back him up on this song with my old band. I’ve heard him say in an interview that this song is about America. I’ll take his word for it. I’m not quite sure what the song is about myself, but I do know it’s a goosebumper. The recording of the song is stunning and I sure do like to play this song around the fire at gatherings.


Photo credit: Jesse Borrell

Lori McKenna Shows Love of Every Kind on ‘The Balladeer’

When it comes to capturing life’s big loves — romantic ones, sure, but also the love between siblings, parents, children, and friends — Lori McKenna is one of the strongest songwriters of our time. The Stoughton, Massachusetts-based singer finds fodder in the everyday moments that most of us overlook, reminding us that every day is worth singing about.

Her new album The Balladeer, produced by Dave Cobb, embraces the same openness, expert wordplay, and quiet wisdom that have become her hallmarks. “This Town Is a Woman” uses extended metaphor to reflect on the push-pull of a hometown. Perceptive songs like “When You’re My Age” and “Til You’re Grown” offer hope and direction to a younger generation, while “Good Fight” is an ode to hard-won, imperfect, lifelong love. The Balladeer shows McKenna at her best.

BGS caught up with McKenna by phone about where she found the courage to try open mic night, the advice she’d give to aspiring artists, and the family moments that keep her centered.

BGS: How did you first begin writing songs?

McKenna: I started writing songs with my two older brothers that were songwriters. They always wrote songs in their bedrooms and that’s what I would always do with my siblings. I grew up just outside of Boston and we were listening to singer/songwriters and talk radio and things like that, but not a lot of country music. But strangely enough, the first song I wrote was a country song about… a rodeo? [Laughs] My mother was like, Where did this come from? I joke now that I must’ve brought it along with me from another life.

How did that evolve into performing and writing professionally?

It was really unexpected. I’m sure my husband would say this as well, but I didn’t know that I could do music for a living. I never sang outside of our house, because I had such a strange voice — certainly, compared to my siblings, I have like the weirdest voice out of all of us. My siblings all sing so beautifully. [Laughs] I never thought that I really could do it.

I always say my kids really gave me the courage to really step out and try. I started doing open mics around here in the Boston area because we have this really great community of venues and a great acoustic or live music scene. But it was especially a surprise to me more than anybody else, that I could do this. It has been such a big part of my life since and I’m very thankful for it.

“This Town Is a Woman” finds so many ways to drive home the metaphor: “You curse her every time she tries to change / and when you’re not happy, you swear that she’s to blame,” which sounds like a tumultuous relationship, or “The way you talk is partly her fault / From the back roads to the church parking lot,” which sounds more motherly. What was the first example that clicked for you, that told you this was a comparison you could make?

The song came to me in a strange conversation that I had with Dave Cobb on the phone one day. He called, and he was talking about putting together a record of women singer/songwriters in the Nashville community. The next day, I was driving my daughter to school, and it just occurred to me that if a town could have a gender — you know, the way they name storms after women, or boats, or whatever — surely a town would be a woman. I mean, there’s just no question.

It’s very motherly, in my brain. She’s gonna let you grow up and push you out, but she’s gonna wait right there for you to come home if you need her. She’s always gonna see you as yourself. She’s gonna know things about you that nobody else knows. It’s that calling; that call of the blood, the call of the hometown. Springsteen talks about it in Springsteen on Broadway, how he couldn’t wait to get out of there and now he lives five minutes from where he grew up. We all have that in us. And if so, it’s definitely because … well, it’s a woman.

And you live in the same town where you grew up. What do you love about where you live?

I think there’s just something in my bones about New England; it would be hard for us to leave here. I live just up the road from where I grew up in this town — I could walk to my dad’s house — and my husband grew up here as well. Our kids had some of the same teachers we had. Family is such a big part of both of our lives. I’m the youngest of six kids. My mom passed away when I was little, and when that happened my family just hunkered in on each other. The older I get, the more I realize that my siblings are such a big part of my life. I need to be around them.

You write a lot about family, specifically about motherhood. You were young when your mother passed away, but is there any specific way you feel she shaped you, particularly as a writer?

There’s some sort of button that was pressed when we lost my mother. I had just turned seven, and when there’s a death of someone that big in a family, and you’re that young, everyone’s going to come up to you and explain that your emotion is warranted: This is a real emotion, you should have it, it’s your right to have it and own it. When kids have really blissful lives, everyone’s brushing off their emotions a lot. You’ll be okay. You fell, but you can get up. You don’t need a Band-Aid. You’re tough. But because at such a young age, I had this family around me that said, “You’re sad, and it’s okay,” it stuck with me. I gave my emotions, when they came to me, a little bit more space than some people are able to. Me having the right to a very powerful emotion at such a young age informed a lot about being a songwriter.

What advice would you give someone who’s just embarking on a career as a songwriter and artist?

The biggest thing they have to be careful of is not changing themselves to bend toward what is in style at the moment. I was so lucky, in so many ways, that I started so much later than everybody else. I was too set in my ways to change very much. Your best asset is to be yourself — nothing is going to be always right for everybody, so you might as well. I think with any kid growing up, they have to learn not to look at social media and feel like it’s a lesson book on how to be. You have to be who you are right this minute, and it may be different next year, but you still have to be who you are as an artist — even if it’s an artist that’s not ready.

You recorded the title track a little differently than the others on The Balladeer, two vocals singing in unison throughout. Why?

That was one of my favorite production moves of the record. It was Dave Cobb’s idea and I’ve never done it on a whole song before. Making demos over the years, there are times where you’ll double your vocal on a chorus, but that song actually doesn’t have a chorus. [Laughs] That’s the reason he thought to do that. He didn’t tell me he was going to do it: We tracked live, and when we finished, he said, go ahead and sing it again. I said, What do you mean? It’s over! You’re crazy! And it just came out so good. To a producer, a song like that, without a chorus, is a little bit of a challenge. And he just brought it to life.

The main character in that song struggles with an insecurity — the idea that if she stops being sad, she won’t be able to write. Have you encountered that fear in the songwriting world — in yourself or in collaborators?

I definitely have had that conversation with people over the years, and I’ve always been kind of the opposite of it. I’ve been so lucky in my career and in my life, and I’ve had so many blessings — things I don’t even know how I got so lucky to do. People sometimes ask me, “How are your songs so sad when you’re so happy?” … But I think your job as an artist or as a songwriter is to learn how to not always need the pain to be able to write. Pain cannot always have to inform your craft. Once I discovered that character in “The Balladeer,” I liked the idea of her being challenged by that, and then coming back and realizing that there is pain in life no matter what — it just doesn’t have to be all of it.

So many of your songs are a good reminder of that balance, the good and the bad. Right now, is there anything in your life that centers you when things get tough?

That’s such a good question, especially now, because we don’t really know what’s next. Every day is like four days, emotionally. This whole time and space thing is like… you forget what day of the month it is, but you’ve had four emotions before lunchtime. For me, I still draw from music, and I’ve had really, really great dinners in the backyard with my kids, because everyone’s slowed down a bit.

In the past, my husband and I have taken the kids on vacation, tried to do all these things to make all these moments. But this year my favorite moments have been sitting in the backyard, with takeout, and talking to each other. We’ve all had to slow down a little bit, and as scary as that seems sometimes, I’ve tried to find the beauty in it. Watching most people around me find the beauty in it has been rewarding, too.


Photo credit: Becky Fluke

MIXTAPE: John Craigie’s “Can We Learn From History?” Playlist

When I was a kid I was obsessed with music. From as far back as I have memories I loved every aspect of it. However, it wasn’t until I started watching older movies and TV shows and becoming educated that I became aware of music as a historical record. Shows like The Wonder Years and Forrest Gump (and others) made me realize that music was telling me a story of what had happened in the past and how we could learn from it. As much as I wanted to be a musician to heal people individually from their darkness, I also wanted to become a musician to inspire large-scale change like my heroes Nina Simone, Pete Seeger, Ani DiFranco and other countless heroes that used their voice to echo what many musicians have been saying since the dawn of human connection I assume.

Here are some of my favorite songs in that vein. — John Craigie

Nina Simone – “The Backlash Blues”

I seriously could have picked any one of her amazing performances, but this one always stood out to me. So direct and in your face. So powerful and moving. It put so much in perspective for my young ears and mind.

John Lennon and Yoko Ono – “Power to the People”

I was always a serious Beatles fan as a kid, but it took me a while to discover John’s solo work outside of “Imagine” and “Instant Karma!” As soon as I got interested in protest music I kept finding such great songs from him and this one has always been a favorite.

Curtis Mayfield – “Move on Up”

When I was in my first band in college I got interested in Curtis Mayfield after hearing the whole album Superfly and falling in love with the bass lines. Taken from his debut album as a solo artist after the Impressions, I’ve included the single version for easy digestion. However, if you can’t get enough I suggest checking out the nine-minute album version.

Buffalo Springfield – “For What It’s Worth”

Most people know this song as the beautiful anthem that it is, and surely still stands the test of time. However, a lot of people forget that this is Stephen Stills and Neil Young before they were in CSNY. I always loved the peaceful and soothing nature of the guitars and harmonics while the lyrics spoke of what was happening all around and begging us to not ignore it.

Richie Havens – “Freedom (Live)”

Legend has it that this song was created on the spot at the Woodstock festival in August of 1969. Richie was slated to go first, and since the promoters weren’t ready with the second band (not to mention many other things) they kept making him go back out after he had finished his set. After several encores he didn’t know what to play so he freestyled this beautiful song. You can feel everything that is going on in the state of the world through his passionate delivery of these simple lyrics.

Bob Dylan – “The Times They Are A-Changin’”

I admit it does feel a bit cliché to add this to the mix but I’ve always felt it was a huge inspiration to me and catalyst for my songwriting. Embarrassingly enough, I first heard this on The Wonder Years when I was about 11 years old. I had no idea what it was but I felt like it had been written that day for exactly what I was going through and seeing in my community of Los Angeles at that time. When I got a guitar a few years later, it was one of the first songs I wanted to learn.

Marvin Gaye – “What’s Going On”

Like most people, I associated Marvin Gaye early on as smooth, sexy date music. Something to put on in the dorm room when your girlfriend was coming by. But I remember getting a little pamphlet from my local record store of “essential landmark albums.” Having never heard of What’s Going On but trusting Marvin I got that album and it has been a favorite ever since. This is the first track on side 1 and it says everything about injustice so beautifully.

Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young – “Ohio”

I’ve read that Neil heard about the Kent State shootings and was so emotionally affected that he wrote this song immediately and soon after they went in the studio to record it. The shootings happened on May 4, 1970 and the single was out just a couple weeks later on May 21. It’s hard to listen to right now with the state of the world as it is, and was probably hard to listen to then. Yet a moment in time we should never forget and never stop learning from.

Aretha Franklin – “Think”

I truly wish Aretha was still with and screaming “freedom” like she does on this track. This track, along with “Respect,” were some of the first songs I heard from her as a young man and felt so inspired by her voice and passion. As tumultuous as 1968 must have been, 2020 feels right in line and this song speaks volumes to the lessons we can learn from our past.

Bruce Springsteen – “Born in the U.S.A.” (Demo Version)

To be honest, for the longest time I didn’t like this song. I grew up with the popular album version of this song blaring out of every dad’s speakers and even though I liked Bruce I just felt this song was so cheesy. It also seemed blindly patriotic and I never bothered to listen to the lyrics. It wasn’t until much later that I was digging through some demos that they had released that I heard this version. Once you sit and hear the lyrics against this minor chord backdrop it stands out as a great protest song.

Sam Cooke – “A Change is Gonna Come”

Closing out the playlist with a bit of optimism coming from the eternal Sam Cooke. Written as a response to the many instances of racism he was privy to, specifically when he and his band were turned away from a whites-only motel in Louisiana. This song will always work as a soundtrack to a revolution whose work seems like it’s never done. But hopefully we can learn from history and see how far we’ve come and have hope that we can keep going farther.


Photo credit: Bradley Cox

BGS 5+5: Reckless Kelly

Artist: Reckless Kelly
Hometown: Austin, Texas
Latest album: American Girls & American Jackpot

Answers provided by Willy Braun

What other art forms — literature, film, dance, painting, etc — inform your music?

I get a lot of ideas from books, lines here and there, but a lot of time they’re just ideas. A theme or a mood. I get some ideas from movies as well but that’s a little more rare. I’d say most of my ideas for songs come from things people say or do in everyday life. I’m always writing things down.

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

I’ve always known I was going to be a musician. It’s the family business. My dad, uncles, grandpa, brothers, cousins, etc., are all musicians. I grew up singing on stage with my dad’s band and eventually my brothers and I all joined so there was never really any question about what path we were going to go down.

However, to answer the question more directly, I remember when I was about 5 I got up and sang a song with my dad at a chili cook-off. After the show the girl at the concession stand gave me my Coke for free, and I remember thinking that was the coolest thing ever. It may have been what hooked me for good.

Which elements of nature do you spend the most time with and how do those impact your work?

I have a place in Idaho where I do the majority of my writing these days. It’s in the high desert with mountains all around so it’s really inspiring. It takes me a few days to get in a groove but once I find my rhythm I usually get a lot done. It also helps that it’s off the beaten path so distractions are at a minimum.

Since food and music go so well together, what is your dream pairing of a meal and a musician?

If I could meet one person it would probably be Sir Paul McCartney. I’m pretty sure he’s a vegetarian so I’d eat whatever he wanted to have as long as we could chat about writing and of course, the Beatles. I’m sure we’d have a couple bottles of wine to wash it all down as well.

How often do you hide behind a character in a song or use “you” when it’s actually “me”?

I use a lot of metaphors in my songs so that’s a place to hide out, ha ha. I almost always write with a caricature in mind, so even when I say “me” I’m not usually talking about myself. A lot of my stuff is fictional so I don’t worry about hiding much. The new albums are the first time I’ve really explained a lot of meaning behind the songs. Normally I let people make up their own version of what they think it’s all about. This time I felt like it was important to let people behind the curtain a bit because of the concept. I wanted them to get it.


Photo credit: Cynthia Dawn Photography

BGS 5+5: American Aquarium

Artist: American Aquarium
Hometown: Raleigh, North Carolina
Latest album: Lamentations

Answers provided by BJ Barham

Which artist has influenced you the most … and how?

I can confidently say that I wouldn’t be the songwriter I am today if it weren’t for the discovery of Bruce Springsteen and his music in my early twenties. A friend played me Nebraska and I was floored. Must have listened to that album for a month straight. He was one of the first artists I have a clear memory of hearing and saying, “I want to do that.”

He writes these elaborate short stories set to music. The songs are expansive and cinematic. The characters are all people we know personally. Intimate snapshots into the lives of the working class. He speaks the universal language in a way not many people will ever be able to. There is something so simple, yet so complex about the way he tells stories. I don’t trust a songwriter who says they aren’t a fan of Springsteen.

What other art forms — literature, film, dance, painting, etc — inform your music?

I read a lot. I usually prefer fiction, but I’ll occasionally do a deep dive into a music-related autobiography. I tend to go for Southern writers and gravitate to the darker side of the genre. My songs take place in the darker corners of the Southern experience, so it doesn’t surprise me that my literary taste tend to go there as well. Faulkner, O’Connor, Harper Lee. The greats are what sucked me in.

I’ve been reading a lot of Cormac McCarthy, David Joy and Barry Hannah as of late. There is a familiarity of place that I really enjoy about them. I think a lot of the flaws in the characters of my songs are a direct result of the books I read in my leisure time. In my lifetime, literature has informed so much of what I know about people, I would be lying if I said it didn’t have an effect on me as a writer.

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

The first time I played songs in front of people I was hooked. I was double majoring in political science and history at NC State University with every intention of going to law school after my undergraduate work. Then I fell in love with songs. I remember the first show like it was yesterday. Me and some friends from high school played (horribly) at Tate Street Coffee in Greensboro, North Carolina, in front of about 20 people. I was hooked. I became a student of every aspect of the trade. Songwriting. Performing. Business. There was no looking back after that first show. I had found my calling.

If you had to write a mission statement for your career, what would it be?

I played a lot of sports growing up and every time I would complain about a loss or another player just getting a “lucky” shot, my father always said that “luck was the product of hard work” and that is something that has always stuck with me. Work Hard. Get Lucky. It’s so simple, yet so profound. I have those words tattooed across my chest to remind me every morning that luck is not just something that happens to people. There’s a really great quote about luck being the intersection of hard work and opportunity. I think that was what my Dad was trying to say all those years ago, just a little less poetic.

When I started this band back in 2005, I knew I wasn’t the best writer. I knew I didn’t have the best voice. The one thing I did have control over was how hard I was willing to work. I truly believe that willingness to outwork anyone that was better than me is the only reason that I am where I am today. I get to earn a living from writing songs and playing them for people because I dedicated myself to the craft of songwriting and refused to take no for an answer. Some friends always say that I’m so lucky to be able to play music for a living. I just smile and silently thank my father for the lessons he instilled in me at such an early age.

How often do you hide behind a character in a song or use “you” when it’s actually “me”?

When I first started writing songs, they were extremely detailed and autobiographical accounts of my youth. The partying, the mistakes, the love lost. As I got older, I started moving more toward character based fictional narrative. Don’t get me wrong, there’s a little bit of myself in every single one of my characters. Some more than others. I believe it’s important to always add those dashes of personal experience into the songs. It makes them more believable to the listener and allows you to fall into those characters as you perform these songs every night.

The fiction is where you have the ability to make the songs universal and not just about you. The bigger picture versus the guy looking back at you in the mirror. I think part of the craft of songwriting is learning that balance. The greats came out of the gate with that gift. The rest of us had to learn it the hard way. It took me quite a few years to stop writing about the person that I currently am and start writing about the better versions of myself that I hope to become.


Photo Credit: Cal & Aly

BGS 5+5: Ron Pope

Artist: Ron Pope
Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee
Latest album: Bone Structure (March 6, 2020)

Which artist has influenced you most and how?

Springsteen has always been my North Star. First of all, he’s a band guy in solo artist’s clothes. I’ve always felt the same way; I meant to be in a band of equal partners (and that’s how I started), but in the end, I was unwilling to cede the control necessary to do that forever if I was going to have to do the lion’s share of the work. That was a tough thing for me to admit to myself, but I figured it couldn’t be that wrong if Bruce did it.

I guess it was also coming from that same kind of blue-collar background and trying to tell the stories of how real people around me were living their lives. Bruce showed me that a songwriter could reflect the world they came from and represent those who would otherwise go unrepresented. I never had to learn that, because he was doing it before I was born; I’ve always known that was possible.

What’s your favorite memory from being onstage?

The first time we played at Irving Plaza in New York my grandparents happened to be in town. They hadn’t seen me play in years. The last show they’d attended was at a shady club in Miami where there were maybe six paying customers and we’d been instructed by the management to pay some tweaker named “Speedy” to watch our van. At this sold-out show in New York with over a thousand people in attendance, my grandparents were pretty wide-eyed. At some point during the show, I called them out and had a spotlight thrown into the balcony. The whole crowd went wild. I’ll never forget my grandmother standing up there waving down at the crowd like the queen. My grandpa (who is not an easy man to impress) was very stoked. I’ve never been happier on stage than in that moment.

What other art forms inform your music?

I am constantly reading. I can’t imagine attempting to be a writer if you’re not an avid reader. I have to put words in to get words out. Recently, I’ve been on an autobiography kick. I just finished Elton’s. Now I’m reading Presidents of War. Thinking about rereading On The Road next.

If you had to write a mission statement for your career, what would it be?

My philosophy is simple: Just don’t stop. When everyone around you quits, just keep on going and eventually, you’ll get where you’re hoping to go. When I was starting out, I wasn’t the best musician in my social circle (not by a mile), but as each of them decided it was too hard to keep going, I refused to surrender. That’s what made the difference.

What is your dream pairing of a meal and a musician?

My wife and I do a silly cooking show on Instagram that we’ve dubbed “Frankie’s Test Kitchen.” (In theory, we’re teaching Frankie, our twenty-month old, how to cook; in practice, she just tries to eat fistfuls of flour and chases the dog.) We always want to have our musician friends over, but it’s rare that any of us are in town at the same time. In 2020, I’d like to find one day where I can get everyone to the house all at once and do a big Sunday supper like my grandma used to do, with my homemade meatballs and red sauce.

Everyone who’s ever gotten a dinner invite to my house could come (including Lilly Hiatt, Lauren Morrow, Michaela Anne, Katie Schecter, Kirby Brown, the Trotters from The War and Treaty, Struggle Jennings, Caroline Spence, Alanna Royale… I could do this all day; I’m forever inviting people to dinner at the house). So rather than some dream pairing where I make coq au vin for Jimi Hendrix, I just want all these people who I know and like to come eat a dish that usually makes people smile. And if you happen to talk to them, somebody tell Bruce and Patti we’re saving them two seats!

BGS 5+5: Griffin House

Artist name: Griffin House
Hometown: Springfield, Ohio; currently resides in Nashville, Tennessee
Latest album: Rising Star
Personal nicknames (or rejected band names): “Balls” was my nickname, which is part of why I named my 2013 album Balls. I guess you could say it was kind of like a self-titled album. My friend (when we were younger) thought it was funny to add the suffix “balls” onto everything. All nouns, common and proper, including people’s names. Griff-balls apparently had a nice ring to it, since it stuck. Eventually it was shortened to G-Balls and eventually just Balls. It was fun when that album “dropped.” The jokes were endless.

Which artist has influenced you the most … and how?

So many influences, but I think probably Woody Guthrie is the greatest. I do a little more singing than I heard him do, being influenced by guys like Bono and Jeff Buckley, but Woody passed down an American tradition to Bob Dylan, Bruce Springsteen, Wilco, etc; his songwriting influenced [and] shaped how we’ve all done things. I relate to him particularly being a guy with his guitar traveling all around America and singing and telling stories about what’s going on around him. He really paved the way for all of us modern day troubadours singing any kind of folk songs.

What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?

One of the first shows I played when I started was opening for John Mellencamp. I was so nervous I told the crowd I was going to go back behind the curtain and “When I come back out,” I said, “Can you just pretend like you are all here to see me and go crazy?” They gave me a standing ovation and went wild before I even played a note. On the last song, I did a victory lap around the audience of 5,000 people and high-fived everyone and then finished the last song. I mostly did it because I didn’t know if I’d ever if I’d ever have an opportunity like that again and I wanted to make the most of it (and have a good story to tell). It felt like something you’d see happen in a movie.

What other art forms — literature, film, dance, painting, etc. — inform your music?

Lots of film. I love watching movies and disappearing into the scenes that I’m watching. It’s a great escape for me and sometimes inspires a song. Going to museums and looking at paintings and sculpture is a wonderful joy for me too. I also love books; I majored in English Literature in college and learned to really appreciate writing during that time. Poetry and literature probably have the biggest direct influence.

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

I saw Rattle and Hum and wanted to be Bono, circa 1988. [U2] were just so unbelievable. That set the bar pretty high, but I’m also content just making a living, telling my stories, and being a singer and storyteller playing for smaller crowds.

What’s the toughest time you ever had writing a song?

“Yesterday Lies.” I think it took me a couple years to write. But the toughest ones were the ones I couldn’t write at all. Every one I finish is easier than the ones that never happened.


Photo credit: Gabe McCurdy

MIXTAPE: Jade Jackson’s Songs for Loneliness

Loneliness is something I’ve experienced [for] as long as I can remember. Before I fully comprehended its meaning, I became familiar with it in my earliest childhood memories. Finding comfort in what we’re used to, I naturally gravitated toward music that evoked that feeling and when I started writing and creating art, it was my biggest inspiration. – Jade Jackson

Bruce Springsteen – “The River”

Similar stories have been told by artists over the years. But Springsteen’s take on loneliness is untouchable. The harmonica crying in the intro sets the tone for this genius tale of faded love.

Sheryl Crow – “The Difficult Kind”

This song blends loneliness and strength. Owning up, recognizing you’re the reason for your loneliness is tough to face. The pain in her voice along with the electric fiddle combine to tug at your heart as the lyrics capture an honest look inside.

Mojave 3 – “Yer Feet”

This song reminds me of hopelessness, heartache, and the dull pain that foreshadows lost love.

John Fullbright – “High Road”

I remember bursting into tears the first time I heard the climax of this song. The story unfolds beautifully and illustrates true love ending too soon.

Hank Williams – “I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry”

Hank Williams spun in our record player more than any other artist growing up. It’s a song I loved when I was young, because of its imagery, and as I grew older I related to it in a whole new way.

Violent Femmes – “Good Feeling”

“Vague sketch of a fantasy
Laughing at the sunrise
Like he’s been up all night
Ooh slippin’ and slidin’
What a good time but now
Have to find a bed
That can take this weight”

Enough said.

Townes Van Zandt – “Waiting Around to Die”

Townes Van Zandt is one of my all-time favorite songwriters, and in my opinion, the king of sad songs. Behind the vocals the guitar picking, drums, and harmonica in this song sound like a drunken heartache. The Be Good Tanyas have a rendition of this song that I find equally despondent.

Johnny Cash – “Hurt”

Trent Reznor’s song “Hurt” covered by Cash takes my breath away. Loneliness often leads to a numbness begging to be broken by self-inflicted pain. This song is a raw tribute to wanting to disappear.

Patsy Cline – “Walkin’ After Midnight”

This is the perfect lonesome song, with its desperation and hopelessness accompanied by pedal steel.

Mazzy Star – “Fade Into You”

I love how poetic these lyrics are. They evoke a yearning for emotional connection; walking through depression wishing to be loved by someone.

Jade Jackson – “Bridges”

I wrote this song during one of my loneliest times of my life.

Jade Jackson – “Loneliness”

This song was inspired by realizing you don’t have to be alone to feel lonely.


Photo credit: Matt Bizer
Editor’s Note: Jade Jackson released her new album, Wilderness, on June 28.

LISTEN: Tyler Ramsey, “Evening Country”

Artist: Tyler Ramsey
Hometown: Asheville, North Carolina
Song: “Evening Country”
Album: For the Morning
Release Date: April 5, 2019
Label: Fantasy Records

In Their Words: “A couple of years ago my band and I started messing around with some of my older and more pared-down songs and trying to bring them into a band setting. ‘Evening Kitchen’ was a song that I had written for the Band of Horses record Infinite Arms and when we did that record it stood out because it was in contrast with the rest of the album and really bare bones. A lot of that album was lushly produced and I thought having the song recorded with a single acoustic guitar and vocals would help balance things. It worked well in the sequence of that album and led to a lot of the more intimate moments in our live shows and the direction we headed in for the live Ryman acoustic album.

“This version, called ‘Evening Country,’ was a way to reimagine the song and a chance to put it into a new frame with some truly amazing musicians. It was recorded in Louisville, Kentucky, with Seth Kauffman (Floating Action), Kevin Ratterman (Lalaland Studio, My Morning Jacket, Ray Lamontagne), and I doing the basic tracking. Seth had worked with pedal steel guitarist Russ Pahl before and we were able to get him to play on it (I still jump up and down when I hear his playing!). And the goosebump-inducing harmony vocals were sung by Molly Parden and Thad Cockrell and recorded at the Fleetwood Shack in Nashville by my old friend Bill Reynolds (former Band of Horses bassist). The opportunity to revisit this song in the way that we did has given it a new energy for me as well as new meaning.

“A wild memory of this song: years ago we were playing at Bonnaroo after Infinite Arms had been released. We finished our set and climbed down off the stage and our manager came up and told us to go back up and play a couple more songs because Bruce Springsteen had come onto our side stage to watch us play just as we were walking off. We ran back up and ended up playing ‘Evening Kitchen’ last, and all I could think about the whole time was that there was Bruce Springsteen standing fifteen feet away from me and watching us play this song I’d written — don’t f*ck it up! We made it through and headed back down off the stage and there he was with that Bruce Springsteen smile and handshakes all around. Our monitor man Jon Cronin told me afterwards that he heard Bruce say ‘That’s a good song!’ That’s enough for me!” — Tyler Ramsey


Photo credit: Jameykay and Arlie