Tag: California

Son of the San Lorenzo

Posted on by Shelby Williamson

Jesse Daniel is carrying on a family tradition with his fifth studio album, Son of the San Lorenzo. As a kid growing up in Northern California, specifically in the San Lorenzo Valley, Daniel spent hours upon hours in his dad’s truck, listening to the songs that defined ‘70s rock and country radio. When the opportunity arose to create a new album inspired by those sounds, Daniel booked the Bomb Shelter studio in Nashville, recorded live with his band, and enlisted harmonica player (and Country Music Hall of Fame inductee) Charlie McCoy to add an unmistakable flourish to the new recordings.

Just as country fans have come to know their favorite singers as the Coal Miner’s Daughter, the Possum, or the Storyteller, Daniel’s hometown is enthusiastically embracing his alter ego: the Son of the San Lorenzo. Daniel dialed up Good Country to talk about how bluegrass music played a role in his musical development, the silver lining of his checkered past, and what he’s looking for in his fellow musicians when it’s time to hit the road.

For this album, you wanted to go back to the music you grew up on, which is ‘70s country and rock. How did you get introduced to that era of music?

Jesse Daniel: My dad was – and still is – a musician. Growing up, he was playing in bands and always just raised me with a guitar in my hand. Whenever we’d go on road trips, or we’d drive up to Oregon to go see family, we would be listening to Led Zeppelin or the Eagles, bands like that. There was a classic rhythm & blues influence on rock and roll, but a lot of that stuff had a very country influence, too, from Creedence Clearwater Revival to the Eagles. A lot of the bands were California bands, also.

I just heard that music growing up. That’s what was played by my dad’s band, and at birthday parties, events, and school gatherings. That was just good-time music, aside from what we were listening to as kids, when we were getting into metal and punk rock. But I guess that’s what all our dads were listening to, and the older people. So I went back to that, now that I’m in my 30s. That music has such a spot in my soul for that nostalgia, and it’s just so good.

Can you describe the experience of having Charlie McCoy on these sessions?

That was incredible. He showed up on his day to cut some harmonica and he was a very humble, unassuming dude. He told us the coolest stories about old Nashville, all the stuff he’s cut on, and all the people’s personalities back in the day that he used to know. I asked him all kinds of questions, soaking it all in. From the moment he blew on that harp and played some licks, Andrija [Tokic, the studio engineer] and I looked at each other like, “Yep! That’s the sound right there.” He just nailed it.

When I listened to “Child is Born,” the first track, I sensed you’re making a statement with this record. It’s a powerful way to open it. What was on your mind as that song was taking shape?

That song is about generational traumas or generational patterns within families and raising children. I pretty much wrote it from the perspective of trying to give some advice on how to raise a child, almost like a template. Throughout the verses, it talks about the pitfalls and what will happen if you focus on yourself and don’t raise your children right. That’s happened in my family and to so many other people. These fathers and mothers aren’t there for their kids, and when it ends up being their time to be taken care of, when they’re elderly, nobody’s there for them because they weren’t there in return. It becomes this vicious cycle that’s perpetuated. That’s where I was at with writing that one. It was an emotional one. It’s an emotional type of record in general, but I just wanted to start it off with that, for sure. A good, heavy starting place.

One of my favorites is “Son of the San Lorenzo.” I think you have had that title for a while.

Yeah, that one is a special one, too. I wrote that song in 2019 and I included it as the last song on my Rollin’ On record. I decided to re-cut it for this one and name the record after it, because since I wrote and released that song, it’s become a fan favorite all over the place, but especially where I grew up in the San Lorenzo Valley.

Whenever I would go back home for hometown shows, people would call me “the Son of the San Lorenzo” after that song. They would always sing that song. That became my nickname over the past five or so years. I thought, what better title for the record than that? With this record going back to my upbringing, to where I’m from, and identity and all that.

You’ve got references on this album to Highway 9, the Sierra pines, and the redwoods. You’re skilled at setting the scene in your songwriting. Why is it important to bring Northern California into these songs?

With my identity as a songwriter and an artist, it shaped a huge, huge amount of that. I always do things through the lens of being from Northern California. Going back to that sound, so much of the music I grew up on was from that exact area – bands like The Doobie Brothers, Larry Hosford, guys like that, who were making this country-rock and roll-blues stuff that really influenced me a lot.

Painting a picture of where you’re from, and of these things that are important to me and my music – I feel like that’s something that’s lost in music nowadays. People don’t do that as much, or if they do, it’s pretty well dominated by Appalachia or Texas. They have a lot of identity and pride in their musical heritage there and I just feel like it’s missing from California in general. And it shouldn’t be. It’s an amazing place, an amazing landscape, an amazing musical history. I see it as my cross to bear to try to carry on that legacy as best as I can.

Has bluegrass been an influence on you?

It definitely has. When I was in high school, I had a teacher for a short period of time who had a bunch of burned bluegrass mix CDs. She was the person that turned me on to bluegrass. I remember listening to that Tony Rice and Norman Blake song, “Eight More Miles to Louisville,” and I was like, “This is incredible!” The songwriting, the picking, the tempo. That made me fall in love with bluegrass. I’d been playing guitar for quite a while at that point, but that’s when I started learning the banjo rolls and trying to emulate some of those bluegrass things I’d heard and adding them into my chord progressions. Even though I don’t explicitly do bluegrass, I always have a bluegrass song on my records, or something that’s at least along those lines. For this record, it’s “Mountain Home” It’s got the banjo and fiddle and a little bit more bluegrass texturing. It’s a big part of my influence.

I was listening to “One’s Too Many (And a Thousand Ain’t Enough)” on Spotify and I couldn’t help but notice your mug shot from Santa Cruz County [as the Spotify Canvas] in the player. How did that come to be?

Yeah, that’s my mug shot from one of the times I went to jail. During that period of my life from 18 through my early twenties, I was a heroin addict, a methamphetamine addict. I was in a vicious cycle of addiction I had gotten into in high school. Once I was out of high school, it accelerated and I became a full-blown junkie, a full-blown drug addict. So that took me on frequent trips to jail for a week here, a week there. I never did any serious time, thank God. I should have, but I didn’t. I was constantly in and out of jail or rehab programs.

That mug shot is a reminder of that past and of that period of my life I wrote about in that song. That song is comprised of all the advice I had gotten from older people who had gotten their stuff together over the years, including some of my own family members who have been sober. They would tell me all these little bits of wisdom and try to help me, and I was just too deep in it to really see. But that song is basically the advice I’d give to somebody now, made up of all the advice I got back then when I was in that position.

Do people who know your story approach you for advice when you’re out on tour?

Quite a bit. There’s a cool, cathartic element to it for me, because I get to put my story and struggles into these songs and they help me. Then it becomes that for other people. I had a woman come up to me at a show, and she told me that my song “Gray” helped her mother get clean. She sent this song to her mother and it broke her down so much that her daughter was sending it to her, saying, “Hey, listen to the lyrics of this song. I care about you and I want you to get help.” And she did. She’s been clean for a couple years now and she says it’s because of that song.

I’ve had a lot of people reach out with similar stories, that they’ve gotten their stuff together after hearing my story or listening to my music. That’s the ultimate form of redemption for me, that I could take my destructive past and turn it into something constructive in helping people. That’s my whole mission. Aside from making the music I love, that’s my mission in my contribution to music.

That’s interesting to hear your mission statement, because you’re the head of your own organization now. I don’t know if you think of yourself that way, but you’re a businessman.

Yeah, more recently I’ve started to think of it that way. And it’s true, especially doing it independently like we have for so long. We’re just now starting to work with a bigger booking agency, a bigger management. We’re stepping things up. But my fiancée Jodi and I really built this together ourselves, brick by brick.

I’ve often heard you shouldn’t get in a relationship with someone until you know you travel well together. What do you remember about those early years with Jodi on the road?

In the early years, even before we started touring in a band together, I would play regionally and Jodi and I would go on road trips together, camping trips, whatever. We just wanted to keep going. That was always part of our relationship. We traveled really well together. We had similar interests. We’d just listen to music and talk and go pull off at roadside swimming holes up in the mountains. We loved that sense of adventure and going places. It was one of the main things that drew me to her when we first got together. She had just as big of a sense of adventure as I did.

So, in the music aspect of it, that’s really helped because we both have that wanderlust and we’re just down to be on the road and to go play new places. When one of us gets tired and burnt out, or maybe sick of being on the road, or something’s not going right, we have the other one to put it in perspective and help balance things out. You lean on that person, which not a lot of people have. A lot of times, your wife or your husband or whoever is at home and you’re out there, alone, missing them. So, I do have the luxury of being with my person out there.

What did Jodi think about the song “Jodi” when you played it for her?

She loves the song. Just like I say in that first line, “To write a love song for you was not an easy thing to do.” It really was a hard subject to tackle, because it’s so vulnerable and true. I had to sit with that one and try to make it as meaningful as possible, so it didn’t come off as a corny love song or too cryptic. I wanted it to be straightforward, but really meaningful.

What do you look for in musicians as you start to put together a band for a tour?

First off, they’ve got to be a great musician. That’s number one. They’ve got to understand the styles and the stylings that I like to go for with my music. I know it’s not for everybody. Sometimes the guitar style is a little bit outside of their bubble, so the playing has to be there.

On top of that, personality-wise, it helps to have people with good attitudes. That’s a huge one I’ve learned over the years. If somebody isn’t there for the right reason, or if they’re halfway in, halfway out, or maybe they’re partying a whole bunch on the road. I’m clean and sober on the road, I don’t do anything, but my guys will go out and have a beer or whatever. That’s totally fine. But if guys are going out and doing drugs or drinking and having it affect their performance or attitude… That is something that happened in the past, so I have a pretty strict policy with that. If you’re going to be in my band, you don’t have to be a teetotaler, but just try to keep it pretty mellow. It’s about the music. That’s what the focus is.

When you listen to Son of the San Lorenzo front to finish now, what goes through your mind?

I see a pretty complete body of work. Sometimes I’ll listen to some of my earlier records and I’ll look back and think, “Oh, I’d change this,” or “I’d do this a little different,” or “Maybe I would have put this song here…” I think that’s easy to do, to pick things apart, especially when you’ve grown as an artist and a songwriter. But when I listen to this record, I put so much time into the song arrangement and into each lyric and each part of the production. I wrote all the guitar licks. Well, ninety percent of the ones you hear on here are ones that I wrote, and then I showed them to the guitar player and he played them better than I was able to play them. [Laughs] All these little things, I put so much effort into this record that I listen back and I’m just really proud of it.

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Photos courtesy of Lightning Rod Records.

BGS 5+5: Cat Terrones

Posted on by Editor

Artist: Cat Terrones
Hometown: San Pedro, California
Latest Album: Shelter in Our Beauty

Personal nicknames (or rejected band names): Cat is the nickname my best friend as a kid gave me in junior high. It got lost in the shuffle for a while in college. I went back to Cathy, or Catherine, and for a time Ginger when I sang in blues bands. But I readopted it eventually. I thought, let’s make this simple. But also it’s just more fun and direct, and brings me back to a more essential spirit I like.

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

My whole life I’ve spent a lot of time around the ocean. I think the ocean teaches you to respect depth, power, mystery, and wonder. It naturally encourages curiosity, while also helping you understand there’s always more you can’t know or see. I consider myself a pearl diver — but for songs. And there’s just certain passageways, dangers, challenges you understand you’ll have to deal with, if it’s going to be anything other than an easy surface level experience. Being okay with the unknown, open and curious to see what comes next.

The ocean has somehow also taught me about time, about energy waves, sound, imagination and being able to hold whole worlds in your imagination that you may never see, building worlds, building models. Then there’s the aspect of Mother Ocean; the impermanence, the movement, the immense creative waters of the earth, getting perspective, being able to zoom in and zoom out, that natural power can be intense. The deep presence to individual life being so precious and precarious, rare but also vast. It’s rare I write a song that doesn’t at least have a water reference, whether I leave it in the lyrics or not depends on how I think the song needs to stay connected to water.

What is a genre, album, artist, musician, or song that you adore that would surprise people?

The blues. I don’t consider myself a blues singer but for a while I was trying that on and learning from local blues musicians in Southern California. I love Koko Taylor’s song, “Voodoo Woman.” Sometimes I just need to put that track on and hear her shout and own that song. The horn riff on it is so funky. Also, Memphis Minnie. I found her music and guitar playing fascinating and enigmatic, even as the songs were pretty straightforward lyrically, as per the genre. She was a real original and an originator, and I appreciated that about her.

Which artist has influenced you the most … and how?

Sinead O’Connor. I was thirteen when her big song with Prince came out, “Nothing Compares 2 U.” I sat on the floor, cross legged and read the liner notes, discovering that she wrote almost all the other songs. I remember very clearly thinking the words, “I want to do that.” It took until almost graduating high school before I realized I could sing and write my own songs. I wanted to do what she was doing: telling stories, being vulnerable and singing the truth telling. So she’s who I learned that songs are where we can say whatever we need to; painfully true things, fleeting things, big emotions or stunningly small yet profound emotions.

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

I have a song on my previous EP called Josephine, and I’d say that song was probably the toughest to navigate writing. On the one hand, the emotion was very palpable, and I think I needed to write that song (I’m sure I did) to process some aspects of grief. But it was a really heavy song for me. It tells my own story and the story of someone in my community we lost. It’s about a family who tried everything but their daughter succumbed to a tragic accidental death that was preventable. At the start, I felt compelled to write a song celebrating the beauty of these women we lost. Instead what came out was a song about the grief, survivor’s guilt, and the sense of connection that goes beyond the physical world. How it feels when tragedy cleaves into our lives and communities and changes the fabric of our experience forever. I can’t say it was comforting writing it. But now it feels somehow grounding and cathartic for me when I sing it.

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

In the making of this album, I had many ideal days. Sitting down with a song, being in a natural environment, like near a river or the ocean or lots of trees, playing music, singing, letting a new song come through. Then a good healthful lunch with lots of fresh veggies and tea. Then another session of working on a song before cooking dinner with friends and watching the sunset. And then a song circle with songwriters gathering around a bonfire or running off to catch fireflies.

Photo Credit: Jo Babb

ISMAY on Only Vans with Bri Bagwell

Posted on by Shelby Williamson

Today we make a new friend! ISMAY is an outstanding human and artist based in California who happens to have a podcast of her own on The BGS Podcast Network! We went wayyy over on time so you’re welcome and I hope you enjoy learning about ISMAY as much as I did!

LISTEN: APPLE • SPOTIFY • AMAZON • MP3

ISMAY is an alternative folk music project driven by California-based singer/songwriter Avery Hellman. Avery does it all: curates a music festival called Woollystar, releases amazing records (go listen to ISMAY’s Desert Pavement LP now), and is currently working on a project documenting the early-musical footsteps of Americana icon Lucinda Williams. We dive into that immediately, and bring up Charlie Sexton, an amazing producer who was in Bob Dylan’s band and co-founded the Arc Angels. The Finding Lucinda podcast they recorded on this journey is out NOW everywhere you listen, and is presented by our same amazing podcast network, The Bluegrass Situation! Growing up on a farm in Sonoma County, California, with a grandfather who founded the Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival, ISMAY is an incredible product of that farm and musical lifestyle. You’re gonna “flip” when we talk about Avery’s phone, and we were instant friends!

 

You Gotta Hear This: New Music From Brothers Comatose, Caitlin Canty, and More

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Your weekly dose of brand new roots music is here – You Gotta Hear This!

Our West Coast friends, The Brothers Comatose, kick us off this week with their new single, “Golden Grass.” The title track for their upcoming album, it’s a loping bluegrass number that pays tribute to the special regional string band styles and genre-bending of their home state, California. From the opposite side of the country, Caitlin Canty brings us “Hotter Than Hell,” a nostalgic song about nighttime summer drives, first loves, and first jobs that features fellow Vermonter Matt Lorenz on backing vocals.

We have a couple great new music videos, too, this week. Singer-songwriter Kai Crowe-Getty shares a live performance video of “Dancing on a Razor’s Edge,” a heartfelt original song about grief, loss, that takes inspiration from – as Joni Mitchell would put it – “you don’t know what you got ’til it’s gone.” Meanwhile, Hillary Reynolds also comes to us from an Americana space with her new track, “Can’t Turn Off My Mind,” a song about insomnia with an accompanying video that demonstrates how, to Reynolds, sleeplessness can become a familiar friend.

Keep scrolling though, because Nashville-based honky-tonker and picker-singer-songwriter Mose Wilson gives an unexpected flair to traditional country with his song, “Since I Lost You.” Wilson’s friend and sometimes bandmate, award-winning bassist Vickie Vaughn, returns to You Gotta Hear This once again with her latest Mountain Home Music Co. single, a fiery, soulful, and plaintive rendition of Vince Gill’s classic, “Liza Jane.” And, from just up the road across town in Nashville, string duo and old-time aficionados Golden Shoals turn their skills to “dad rock” for their pro-worker, anti-work-week summer anthem, “Five Day Weekend.” Of course, it’s just perfect for entering a long holiday weekend.

Country, bluegrass, folk, Americana, and blends of all of the above are all right here on BGS. You Gotta Hear This!

The Brothers Comatose, “Golden Grass”

Artist: The Brothers Comatose
Hometown: San Francisco, California
Song: “Golden Grass”
Album: Golden Grass
Release Date: May 21, 2025 (single); September 12, 2025 (album)
Label: Swamp Jam Records.

In Their Words: “We wrote ‘Golden Grass’ about the current wave of string bands coming out of California that are creating a new take on an old style of music. They start with their foundations in traditional bluegrass and incorporate folk, rock, and jam elements to form that Western ‘golden grass’ sound. Lots of great string bands have come out of California, like AJ Lee & Blue Summit, Molly Tuttle, and even going back to Old & In the Way who were trailblazers for this type of sound. It’s about taking the heart and soul of bluegrass and infusing it with everything we love about music today.” – Ben Morrison

Caitlin Canty, “Hotter Than Hell”

Artist: Caitlin Canty
Hometown: Danby, Vermont
Song: “Hotter Than Hell”
Album: Night Owl Envies the Mourning Dove
Release Date: May 22, 2025 (single); October 2, 2025 (album)
Label: Distributed by Tone Tree

In Their Words: “This is the first track I’m sharing from my forthcoming record, Night Owl Envies the Mourning Dove, out October 2. This song grew from the ground in Vermont, where I was born and raised and have recently returned to raise my little kids. On those hot humid nights before we had air conditioning, my folks would pack us all in the truck and we’d drive along mountain roads with the windows down to cool off. ‘Hotter Than Hell’ is a nostalgic summer throwback to first love, first jobs – those ephemeral firsts seared into memory.

“And making this record was my first time partnering with Sam Kassirer, who produced and played keys. I was nearly 8 months pregnant when we cut the record live at his Great North Sound Society in Maine. I just love to hear fellow Vermonter, Matt Lorenz (The Suitcase Junket) singing his blazing backing vocals on this song.” – Caitlin Canty

Track Credits:
Caitlin Canty – Vocals, acoustic guitar, songwriting
Jeremy Moses Curtis – Bass
Rich Hinman – Electric guitar
Sam Kassirer – Piano, organ
Matt Lorenz – Backing vocals
Ray Rizzo – Drums, percussion

Kai Crowe-Getty, “Dancing on a Razor’s Edge”

Artist: Kai Crowe-Getty
Hometown: Nelson County, Virginia
Song: “Dancing on a Razor’s Edge”
Album: The Wreckage
Release Date: May 23, 2025 (single); June 27, 2025 (album)

In Their Words: “In my life, I’m not one who does a lot of looking backwards or dwelling in the past with much intention. This song, like several on the record, does exactly that. The Joni Mitchell refrain of ‘don’t know what you got ’til it’s gone’ was a lost inspiration here. My mother died when I was young and this collection of memories, some with her, some without, is trying to make sense of the present in one of my more personal writes. Like many things we avoid, tuck away, wait to face another day, it tends to come out in unexpected floods and fissures as we navigate the grief of it, standing on different shores.” – Kai Crowe-Getty

Video Credits: Filmed by Zach Phillips. Edited by Kai Crowe-Getty.

Golden Shoals, “Five Day Weekend”

Artist: Golden Shoals
Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee; Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada
Song: “Five Day Weekend”
Album: The Dream and The Hunger
Release Date: May 23, 2025

In Their Words: “We live in a world where we’re pushed to our limits of productivity while being sold tons of garbage that we don’t need. At the same time, we could be harnessing AI to do the work that allows humans more leisure time, but Big Tech seems intent on replacing meaningful human work instead. The song just kind of manifested with a dad rock vibe. It details my dream for a world that I think is possible – where we all spend a significant, but not overwhelming, amount of time doing the hard work that a society needs to thrive and the rest of the time taking care of ourselves making the world a great place to live in.” – Mark Kilianski

Track Credits:
Mark Kilianski – Electric guitar, vocals, songwriting
Amy Alvey – Fiddle, vocals
Chris Sartori – Electric bass
Alex Bice – Drum kit, cowbell

Hillary Reynolds, “Can’t Turn Off My Mind”

Artist: Hillary Reynolds
Hometown: Appleton, Wisconsin (for the summer) and Los Angeles, California (for the winter)
Song: “Can’t Turn Off My Mind”
Album: Changing Seasons
Release Date: May 22, 2025 (single); August 8, 2025 (album)

In Their Words: “‘Can’t Turn Off My Mind’ ended up being the first song I wrote for my album. It came in stages. I wrote the first half by myself and when I felt like it needed fresh energy, I turned to my dear friend and fellow artist, Madison Malone, for a little nudge. Simply put, ‘Can’t Turn Off My Mind’ is a song about insomnia. I love how the narrative has evolved over time. Since finishing this song, Madison and I have become mothers and insomnia has taken on a new meaning, becoming a familiar friend – whether it was breast feeding and watching Schitt’s Creek in the wee hours of the morning or having an endless to-do list running through my brain at 3 a.m., I love that this song is the first single, setting the tone of my forthcoming morning album, Changing Seasons.” – Hillary Reynolds

Track Credits:
Hillary Reynolds – Vocals, piano, songwriting
Madison Malone – Background vocals
Benjamin Kopf – Acoustic guitar, bass, singing bowl
Tom Shewmake – Octave mandolin
Matt Musty – Percussion
Jim Frink – Drums

Video Credit: Directed and filmed by New Normal Studios.

Vickie Vaughn, “Liza Jane”

Artist: Vickie Vaughn
Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee
Song: “Liza Jane”
Release Date: May 23, 2025
Label: Mountain Home Music Company

In Their Words: “I’ve loved Vince Gill’s ‘Liza Jane’ since I heard it on local country radio when I was little. His version is so iconic and playful and the groove is intoxicating. I wanted to take to the song and add some serious drama, giving it a little bit of a darker vibe and instead of just singing about Liza Jane, I wanted to be pleading and angry and desperate about her.” – Vickie Vaughn

Track Credits:
Vickie Vaughn – Upright bass, lead vocal
Cody Kilby – Guitar
Casey Campbell – Mandolin
Wes Corbett – Banjo
Dave Racine – Drums
Deanie Richardson – Fiddle
Lillie Mae Rische – Harmony vocal
Frank Rische – Harmony vocal

Mose Wilson, “Since I Lost You”

Artist: Mose Wilson
Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee
Song: “Since I Lost You”
Album: That’s Love
Release Date: May 28, 2025 (single); July 17, 2025 (album)

In Their Words: “‘Since I Lost You’ is unlike anything I’ve released before. It’s a bridge between worlds – a song that could invite listeners from outside the traditional country audience to experience something new and unexpected. It’s a story of love lost told with a groove that’s both timeless and entirely my own.” – Mose Wilson

Track Credits:
Henry Long – Keyboards
Norbert McGettigan – Bass
John Papageourgiou – Drums
Will Johnson – Electric guitar
Stephen “Tebbs” Kearney – Dobro
Mose Wilson – Vocals, acoustic guitar

Photo Credit: Brothers Comatose by Jessie McCall; Caitlin Canty by Laura Partain.

Dream Date with JOHNNYSWIM

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Last week, JOHNNYSWIM – husband-and-wife indie-folk duo of Amanda Sudano Ramirez and Abner Ramirez – released their highly-anticipated new album, When the War Is Over. A stand out track, “Los Feliz,” can be found second-to-last in the sequence.

“Los Feliz” was written by Ramirezes and songwriter-producer Britten Newbill. It kicks in with grooving, pocketed drums and warm electric guitar, loping as if up and down the southern California hills.

“Somethin’ ‘bout LA/ Golden hour getaway/ Oh… I want you close,” Amanda sings the opening lines. Abner picks up where she leaves off, creating another musical dialogue – a common facet of the pair’s music across their twenty-year-plus catalog. Their songs feel like intimate vignettes, a window into their lives, their relationship, their family, and their creative processes.

“Los Feliz” is a love song– to each other, to Los Angeles, and to their favorite neighborhood, of course. The lyrics and message feel especially apropos since the devastating LA wildfires, as we all feel heartbroken seeing these neighborhoods we hold dear forever altered. But, like in the track, there’s plenty of redemption to be found in this beautiful city and this sweet corner of the City of Angels.

To celebrate When The War Is Over, JOHNNYSWIM brought Good Country along on an adorable Los Feliz date, taking us and our readers to a few of their favorite spots, captured by their longtime friend and photographer Amy Waters.

Below, Amanda describes their date for each of us as we all get the unlikely treat of third wheeling with JOHNNYSWIM.

Little Dom’s

One of our favorite date activities is to go to Little Dom’s in Los Feliz. It’s an old school Italian restaurant with delicious food, a cozy vibe, and it just makes you feel like you’re in a movie.

Reckless Unicorn

After that, we walk right across the street to an adorable toy shop called The Reckless Unicorn. Because we’re parents (and every parent knows that you can’t go on a date night without talking about your kids), we end up buying our kids presents so they get excited when we go on date nights knowing they’ll usually get a treat when we come home.

Vermont Ave. x Melbourne Ave.

From there, we’ll take a stroll around the neighborhood. There’s a beautiful florist on the corner of Vermont and Melbourne where we’ll pick up some flowers or a plant, or even just smell some roses.

Maru

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All photos by Amy Waters.

Peter Rowan and Sam Grisman Project Will Bring Old & In the Way to the Ryman

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

On January 9, 2025, there will be a special performance – more so a once-in-a-lifetime celebration – of the groundbreaking music of Old & In the Way at Nashville’s famed Ryman Auditorium.

Led by the “Bluegrass Buddha” himself, Peter Rowan, the legendary singer-songwriter and founding member of the group will be backed by the Sam Grisman Project. The gathering will also feature a murderers’ row of talent: Sam Bush, Tim O’Brien, Lindsay Lou, Ronnie & Rob McCoury, and more.

“In bluegrass, you just do the beautiful grace of presenting the music, being good neighbors and all that stuff,” Rowan told BGS in an exclusive 2022 interview. “But you could hear us in the band going, ‘go, man, go.’ Go for it, that’s where we came from. That’s what Old & In the Way was – the ‘go for it’ signal to everybody.”

To preface, Old & In the Way started as impromptu pickin’-n-grinnin’ sessions in the early 1970s between Rowan, his longtime friend, mandolin guru David Grisman, and Jerry Garcia, iconic guitarist for the Grateful Dead, who reached for his trusty banjo during the gatherings at Garcia’s home in Stinson Beach, California.

“We started picking every night after supper [at Jerry’s],” Rowan remembers. “We went through old song books and learned a bunch of material.”

At the time, Garcia was searching for new avenues of creative exploration, seeing as the Dead were in the midst of taking a much-needed hiatus after years of relentless touring and recording. He was also, perhaps subconsciously, trying to tap back into his roots before the Dead, this landscape of the late 1950s/early 1960s where Garcia was heavily involved in the San Francisco Bay Area folk scene.

“And you realized that Jerry was an intergalactic traveler, just dropping in on the Earth scene for a little while, but he was totally at home,” Rowan says of Garcia’s restless penchant and lifelong thirst for acoustic music.

When Old & In the Way formed in 1973, the trio recruited bassist John Kahn, as well as a revolving cast of fiddlers (Richard Greene, John Hartford, Vassar Clements). Sporadic gigs were booked around the Bay Area, with the vibe of the whole affair casual in nature – the ethos one of camaraderie and collaboration, but without expectations or boundaries.

“I remember singing the ending of ‘Land of the Navajo’ at the first rehearsal and I looked over at Jerry,” Rowan recalls. “He kept nodding his head like, ‘go.’ It was like Jack Kerouac at Allen Ginsberg’s poetry reading at City Lights Bookstore – ‘go, man, go.’ Encouragement, encouragement.”

By 1974, Old & In the Way simply vanished into the cosmic ether, but not before capturing a handful of live performances that have become melodic sacred texts of a crucial crossroads for acoustic music. To note, Old & In the Way’s 1975 self-titled debut album went on to become the bestselling bluegrass album of all-time – until it was dethroned by the O Brother, Where Art Thou? soundtrack released in 2000.

As it stands today, Rowan, now 82 years old, is the only remaining member of Old & In the Way still actively performing. Garcia, Clements, Kahn, and Hartford have all sadly passed on, with the elder Grisman and Greene retired from touring. Grisman’s son, standup bassist Sam Grisman, is now carrying his father’s bright torch.

And although the tenure of the Old & In the Way was short-lived, the ripple effects of the band’s ongoing influence and enduring legacy remains as vibrant and vital as it was those many years ago, when a handful of shaggy music freaks kicked off a jam that will perpetuate for eternity.

In preparation for the upcoming Old & In the Way showcase at the Ryman on January 9, BGS recently spoke with Sam Grisman, who talked at-length not only about his continued work with Peter Rowan and the intricacies of Jerry Garcia, but also why a band Grisman’s father started over a half-century ago still captivates the hearts and minds of music lovers the world over.

You were five years old when Jerry Garcia passed away. You were really young, but do you remember anything that you hold onto?

Sam Grisman: Yeah, I have a very vivid memory of what our house felt like, smelled like, and just what the energy was like when Jerry was around. And I remember that sort of ease, just the way that he made people feel. It seemed like my parents were at ease when he was around.

And he probably felt at ease being around them. It was probably a safe haven at that house.

Definitely. And, you know, my parents smoked weed in the house. But, my mom was pretty strict about cigarettes. [She] wouldn’t let anybody smoke cigarettes in the house. But, when Jerry was around, he smoked cigarettes in the house. So, part of this smell in my blurry five-year-old memory is the smell of cigarettes. And Jerry would sometimes wear a leather jacket, maybe the smell of leather.

I remember the sound of his laugh. I remember all that music, and some of it I remember so vividly that I just know that part of that memory is reinforced by being there as a little toddler when they were working up [music]. Because they would often work on tunes upstairs in the living room and then take them down to the studio, put them on the mics and pull them.

You just wanted to be around it all and soak it all in.

I was a really curious kid.

With the Ryman show coming up, there’s been a lot of celebration of Old & In the Way as of late, especially with you touring with Peter Rowan and the current Jerry Garcia exhibit at the Bluegrass Hall of Fame & Museum. You’ve been around those songs your whole life. But, when you think about the context of Old & In the Way, and what you’re doing at the Ryman, what really sticks out with why that was such a special time in not only bluegrass, but in the lives of those people?

I mean, what a lightning-in-the-bottle chapter of all those people’s lives, you know? I think 1973, ’73/’74, was a particularly fertile time for Jerry. He was playing a full schedule with the Dead. He had Jerry Garcia Band stuff. He was playing in Old & In the Way. He was playing pedal steel with the New Riders of the Purple Sage. It seemed like he really had an itch to go back to where his roots were, especially when you look at [the Grateful Dead album] Workingman’s Dead [that was released a] couple years prior.

For all of us, who are looking back on it 50 years in the future, it seems like this momentous, heady time that was just meant to be. But, for those guys in the moment, it was just total serendipity. And the quintessence of just going with the flow – Stinson Beach, California, vibes. They just kind of stumbled into this reality.

“Y’all wanna play?” “Sure, why not.”

Yeah, where it would just be really fun to have this bluegrass band that they didn’t take super seriously, which I think really comes across in the recordings, you know? Because there’s all this joy in that music that might not necessarily have been there if those guys were taking it super seriously or if they needed it to pay their bills. It was a very interesting circumstance.

And for them to call their hero Vassar Clements into the mix, on a sort of whim because Peter found his number on a card in his wallet. It was sort of like a fantasy camp for these guys. Like a bunch of hippies sitting around on the beach, smoking a joint, thinking: “Wouldn’t it be great if we had the world’s greatest fiddle player just show up?” “I bet you we could book a gig.” “Hey Jerry, you got these legions of people following you around, you could probably get us a gig, right?”

And that’s kind of how it happened. Those gigs were so magical, because they happened mostly for all of these Deadheads in Marin [County, California], for like 16 months or something.

So, if you really had your finger on the pulse of it and you were going to the Keystone [music club in Berkeley, California], to see [the Jerry Garcia Band] and you loved what the Dead were doing, you knew that they were going to take this time off, but you just saw Jerry the week before and he never took his guitar off. He just finished the [Jerry Garcia Band] set and walked backstage with his guitar on and was smoking a cigarette, and then you saw him 30 minutes later talking to somebody off the side of stage, still had his guitar on — you’re thinking, “Gee, this guy’s not going to stop playing music this year, so I better keep my eyes peeled for what’s next.” And they played all these little gigs mostly around the Bay Area — they kind of captured some lightning in a bottle.

With playing these Old & In the Way melodies not only throughout your life, but also extensively nowadays with Peter Rowan, what’s been your biggest takeaway on what makes those songs and the ethos/history behind them so special to you? What about in terms of musicality, technique, and approach?

It’s hard to articulate how special it is to be exploring these beloved songs that mean so much to so many folks, myself included, with Peter and a cast of some of my best friends and favorite musicians. It’s a catalog that’s got a lot of depth.

Old & In the Way would play anything from songs by bluegrass heroes like Bill Monroe, The Stanley Brothers, Reno & Smiley, and Jim & Jesse to Vassar [Clements], Jerry [Garcia], and my pop’s instrumentals, to the tunes that Peter was writing at the time, which are some of my absolute favorite songs ever written.

Songs like “Midnight Moonlight,” “High Lonesome Sound,” and “Panama Red.” Playing these tunes with Uncle Peter makes me feel connected to the times he spent with David and Jerry in Stinson Beach in the early ’70s.

I grew up in Mill Valley and loved going to Stinson Beach with my friends, so I have a pretty vivid image in my mind’s eye. They played tunes, hung out, relaxed, took in the sea breeze, smoked a bunch of great weed, and developed a highly individuated “West Coast” approach to playing and singing this bluegrass music that they all loved and respected so much.

And then, they called one of my bass heroes, John Kahn, and their fiddle hero, the inimitable Vassar Clements and gave the world about one glorious year – I think around 50 shows – of a rare and lovable breed of bluegrass.

So much of everyone’s personality comes through in the music, and you can hear their camaraderie in the recordings. I guess my biggest take away from getting to play this music with Peter is how important it is to bring your own approach to these timeless songs that we love, while still honoring what it is that makes us love them in the first place.

You’ve known Peter Rowan since you were born. But, what has this latest endeavor together meant to you, to play the Old & In the Way catalog to not only lifelong fans, but also a whole new generation of acoustic music fans and bluegrass freaks?

It means the world to me to get to spend some time out on the road sharing space and time in service of this music with Uncle Peter. Getting to meet all of these folks who care so much about this music and feeling their appreciation and gratitude for Pete has been truly special.

There are so many people from so many different ages and different walks of life for whom this music has been the soundtrack to many fond memories, and I’m honored to be one of them. It’s also been a joy to see fresh faces in the audience and some folks taking in this music with a new perspective.

In your honest opinion, what is the legacy of Old & In the Way when you place it through the prism of the history of bluegrass and the road to the here and now, especially this current juncture where the torchbearers are selling out arenas and creating this high-water mark for acoustic, traditional and bluegrass music?

For many folks who know and love the music of Jerry Garcia and the Grateful Dead, Old & In the Way has been their first exposure to bluegrass. So many people over the years have told me how listening to Old & In the Way led them to further explore bluegrass music and its roots and branches. And others have told me how it inspired them to become pickers and start bands of their own.

I think Old & In the Way has been pivotal in bringing a wider audience with a more adventurous musical palette into the bluegrass universe. The legacy of Old & In the Way is one of exploration and preservation, and they certainly paved the way for many of us to walk a similar path — honoring the music that we love, while exploring its boundaries and finding our own voices and approaches.

It’s wonderful to see my friend Billy Strings out there playing for so many folks on such a big scale simply being himself, playing his own songs with a great group of friends, and also honoring the material that made him the musician that he is — maybe that’s a part of the legacy of Old & In the Way.

Photo Credit: Elliot Siff
Poster Credit: Taylor Rushing

Artist of the Month: Dead in December

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

(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.

“I will get by, I will survive.”

 

WATCH: Rachel Sumner, “Radium Girls (Curie Eleison)” (Traveling Light Sessions)

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Artist: Rachel Sumner & Traveling Light
Hometown: Boston, Massachusetts
Song: “Radium Girls (Curie Eleison)” (Traveling Light Sessions)
Album: Heartless Things 
Release Date: November 21, 2024 (video); May 10, 2024 (album)

(Editor’s Note: Over the last few weeks, BGS has premiered a new series of live performance videos from singer-songwriter and band leader Rachel Sumner. Today’s video marks the end of our series together. Watch more from the Traveling Light Sessions here.)

In Their Words: “‘Radium Girls (Curie Eleison)’ is based on a true, terrible piece of United States history – one that I didn’t learn about in any history book. It tells the story of the Radium Girls, young factory workers poisoned by the very material they were told was safe, and their courageous fight for justice. The title juxtaposes scientific progress with a plea for mercy, tying the legacy of Marie Curie to the tragic consequences of her discoveries.

“Performing this song with Traveling Light keeps the arrangement stark and intimate to let the haunting resonance of the story come through. This video is particularly special to me, because I had the chance to play a guitar that one of my songwriting heroes, Josh Ritter, has used to record many of his own epic story songs. It felt like a beautiful connection to the power of storytelling.” – Rachel Sumner

Track Credits:
Rachel Sumner – banjo, lead vocals
Kat Wallace – fiddle, harmonies
Mike Siegel – bass, harmonies

Video Credits: Engineered by Zachariah Hickman.
Filmed by Lindsay Straw.
Mixed by Rachel Sumner.
Mastered by Dan Cardinal.
Video edited by Rachel Sumner.

Photo Credit: Bri Gately

WATCH: Rachel Sumner, “3000 Miles” (Traveling Light Sessions)

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Artist: Rachel Sumner & Traveling Light
Hometown: Boston, Massachusetts
Song: “3000 Miles” (Traveling Light Sessions)
Album: Heartless Things 
Release Date: November 14, 2024 (video); May 10, 2024 (album)

(Editor’s Note: BGS is excited to premiere a new series of live performance videos from singer-songwriter and band leader Rachel Sumner. Over the last few weeks, BGS readers have enjoyed three live song performances of tracks pulled from Sumner’s latest album, Heartless Things, and performed by her touring trio, Traveling Light. Stay tuned for the final installment coming next week.)

In Their Words: “‘3000 Miles’ is an autobiographical song that traces my journey from the deserts of California to Boston, the place I now call home. Growing up, the Mojave felt confining to me and I always sensed that I’d need to leave to find myself. This song is a rambler’s road song, shaped by years of searching. However, it took the stillness of lockdown to finally finish it – when I couldn’t travel anywhere. That pause gave me the chance to look back and make sense of all the miles I’d put behind me.” – Rachel Sumner

Track Credits:
Rachel Sumner – banjo, lead vocals
Kat Wallace – fiddle, harmonies
Mike Siegel – bass, harmonies

Video Credits: Engineered by Zachariah Hickman.
Filmed by Lindsay Straw.
Mixed by Rachel Sumner.
Mastered by Dan Cardinal.
Video edited by Rachel Sumner.

Photo Credit: Bri Gately

WATCH: Rachel Sumner, “Head East” (Traveling Light Sessions)

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Artist: Rachel Sumner & Traveling Light
Hometown: Boston, Massachusetts
Song: “Head East” (Traveling Light Sessions)
Album: Heartless Things 
Release Date: November 7, 2024 (video); May 10, 2024 (album)

(Editor’s Note: BGS is excited to premiere a new series of live performance videos from singer-songwriter and band leader Rachel Sumner. Over the next four weeks, BGS readers will enjoy four live song performances of tracks pulled from Sumner’s latest album, Heartless Things, and performed by her touring trio, Traveling Light. Watch the next installment here.)

In Their Words: “‘Head East’ is our next release from Heartless Things (Traveling Light Sessions). It has an extra special place in my heart, because it was the first song I ever wrote. Thirteen years ago, I moved to Boston from the Mojave Desert in California (where I grew up) and felt such a connection with the city and a feeling of possibility that I got there – a feeling I didn’t find in my hometown. This song was a plea to my younger brother to get out and find his good fortune elsewhere, just as I had.

“For this song, Kat Wallace trades her fiddle for the tenor guitar, and Mike Siegel adds a sublime third-part harmony that makes the chorus feel like heaven. ‘Head East’ has had many lives and arrangements, but this one is quite possibly my favorite.” – Rachel Sumner

Track Credits:
Rachel Sumner – banjo, lead vocals
Kat Wallace – tenor guitar, harmonies
Mike Siegel – bass, harmonies

Video Credits: Engineered by Zachariah Hickman.
Filmed by Lindsay Straw.
Mixed by Rachel Sumner.
Mastered by Dan Cardinal.
Video edited by Rachel Sumner.

Photo Credit: Bri Gately