Tag: chicago

First & Latest: Special Consensus’ 40+ Year Career

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

(Editor’s Note: BGS is excited to debut a brand new column and feature series, First & Latest, which examines the discographies of artists, musicians, and bands by comparing and contrasting their first album against their latest album.)

Chicago-based, long-running bluegrass outfit Special Consensus have been making records since 1979, when they released their debut, self-titled album. Since then, they’ve put out about 20 records – and they’ve criss-crossed the country and the globe spreading their modern-yet-traditional, hard-driving sound. Banjo player Greg Cahill, who is also a bluegrass industry leader and community builder, is the band’s sole remaining original member and, across those decades, has been the linchpin, the keystone of what has become a true legacy act.

To mark the occasion of their latest release, Great Blue North (released May 12 on Compass Records), we compare and contrast the band’s debut record with this new project with Cahill – it’s First & Latest, from BGS.

What goes through your mind when you hear a song from that first record, like “Like a Train?”

Greg Cahill: I cannot believe it was so long ago! This was our first time in a recording studio and we knew nothing about the process of making a record. It was truly a complete learning experience and we had a wonderful engineer who was a master at finding the exact place to punch in, and he even manually lined up and spliced the ¾” tape on one of the songs so we could use the first part of the one pass and the second part of a later pass. The album is pretty basic and far from top notch, but we did our best and actually sold a good number of that vinyl record.

At that point, did you ever think this band would have such longevity?

We had no idea about where our journey would take us. Special C actually formed sometime in 1973 – two of us were grad students and two had full time jobs. By 1975, I had finished my masters degree and was playing in local pubs and venues while working a full time job in social work, and all I wanted to do was play the banjo. It was 1975 when bass player Marc Edelstein and I decided we wanted to try playing full time – to play and tour as much as possible to get this bluegrass bug out of our system and go back to “real” jobs/life in a couple years. The other two members decided not to join us for this ride, so we found a guitar player and a mandolin player and quit our day jobs to devote full time to playing music. Marc left the band a few years later but the plan didn’t work for me – the bluegrass “addiction” only became stronger. I just “kept on keepin’ on” with no set time limit on my musical journey and now here I am today, never dreaming I would still be going strong with no set end time.

What do you think has been the key to your spanning the decades in bluegrass – besides yourself, that is!

I have been most fortunate to have had some great musicians/people in the band over the years – and still do have wonderful bandmates. Of course I have experienced the ups and downs of playing full time – it was always worrisome when a band member left or when there were slow times but we always found side jobs and teaching opportunities to keep us moving forward. I guess I am just too stubborn to even think about not playing because I love making music so much.

There’s an energy, a drive, even in this earliest recording that you’ve continued to carry with you. Where do you think that comes from? It reminds me of classic Seldom Scene and Johnson Mountain Boys, like you’re always leaning a bit forward into the groove.

I found bluegrass music through folk music (Kingston Trio; Peter, Paul and Mary; Limelighters, etc.) and eventually Pete Seeger – whose music prompted me to buy a long-neck 5-string banjo and then a 6-string guitar and then a 12-string guitar. I played in a folk trio with friends in college, and one day I heard “The Ballad of Jed Clampett” and immediately knew I had to learn how to play the bluegrass banjo. I found the Earl Scruggs book and was obsessed with playing the banjo every free moment of my life and it was his drive and perfect tone and timing that overwhelmed me. Then I heard J.D. Crowe and he became my model and eventually my mentor of sorts, even before I ever met him. This was in the early 1970s. New Grass Revival also grabbed my ear, and I spent hours trying to learn J.D. solos but also Courtney Johnson licks, determined to not lose the drive when playing non-Scruggs/Crowe licks because at that time many folks felt that Scruggs style playing was the only “right” way to play the 5-string. It has always been about the drive for me – and I learned that from J.D. as well – he always had drive, even on slow songs that he played with superb finesse.

“The Singer” feels like that classic move of a bluegrass band playing a country song, can you talk a bit about what you remember about choosing that track and recording it?

We were city boys playing in big city pubs and venues where the general public had no idea what bluegrass music was. Although we always loved the traditional bluegrass songs and tunes, we felt we had to play some material that the general public might recognize and eventually really like our brand of bluegrass music. So we included old rock songs, country songs, and jazzy swing songs in the repertoire along with the traditional songs. I would say we actually became more traditional over the years, because we were building a local and then national and then international audience while maintaining a varied repertoire.

When I heard “The Singer” I immediately wanted to include that song in our repertoire – the song is so well written, the words are so poignant, especially knowing that Neal Allen wrote the song about his father Red Allen and also that Neal died of pneumonia while on the road. As Bill Monroe would say, “It’s a powerful number.”

Now, about the latest album, Great Blue North, what inspired you to cross the Great Lakes for this album and do Canadian bluegrass?

We are so fortunate to be on the Compass Records label and especially to have Alison Brown as our producer. When we begin preparations to record, the four of us and Alison begin our search for new material. We are basically on a bi-annual release schedule with the label and one of the songs Alison thought would be a good song for us to include on our 2020 release was “Blackbird,” written by the great Canadian songwriter/singer/guitar player J.P. Cormier. We loved the song but as we gathered material for that release the theme shifted to featuring a nod to Chicago, where the band has been based since beginning in 1975, because 2020 was the 45th band anniversary. Hence the 2020 “Chicago Barn Dance” release. We knew we would record “Blackbird” at some point, and after the pandemic shut-down we wanted to let folks know we were still alive and well and anxious to get back on the road, so we recorded “Blackbird” and Compass released it as a single. As we began the search for material for a new recording, Alison mentioned that it might be a good time to give a nod to our Canadian friends — since we have played there so much over the past three decades — and we all agreed. We then decided to include only songs written by Canadian writers and also to ask many of our Canadian musician friends to perform with us on some of the tracks.

Do you think being such a long-running Midwestern-based group informed the new album for you? And your connections to this material?

I think we may have had more opportunities to tour in Canada because of our Midwestern base. We did not play the big festivals when we first began touring there – we played shows for bluegrass associations and community centers in Toronto, Ontario (only an 8+ hour drive from Chicago), Winnipeg, Manitoba (13+ hour drive) and Calgary, Alberta (25-hour drive). We would head directly to Toronto or work our way through Minnesota to the Canadian gigs, which helped us get invited to the festivals. We also learned about the Canadian songwriters through so many of the great Canadian musicians whom we met and became friends with through this networking.

To me, a throughline between your first and latest albums is the arrangements, the way your band is always playing as a tight-knit ensemble, not just a handful of instruments sounding simultaneously. Where do you get the inspiration for the way your individual parts play off of and dialogue with each other?

I think we have always been focused on the power of tight and interesting arrangements. This again goes back to the fact that because we are from Chicago – not a bluegrass hub in the eyes of the general public – we had to make sure to keep the attention of the audience and not have songs begin to all sound alike. The arrangements give the band the opportunity to be more creative and to showcase the tight vocal and instrumental harmonies. I have always wanted an outside/non-band member producer to give us an objective opinion about the sound, the material and the performance. We have always had very good producers and I must say that Alison Brown is a phenomenal producer who has brought the band to another level. From our perspective, she basically considers each song on our recording to be unique and “special” – there are no “filler” tracks, and we spend however much time necessary to make each track stand out.

“Snowbird” will go down as one of Special C’s tastiest cover songs, do you have favorite covers from across the years? It’s kind of a hallmark of your band!

Although we try not to be seen as a cover band, we have chosen to cover some songs from artists that we feel we can make sound like a bluegrass song, and especially sound like a Special C song. We have been most fortunate to have been given some great songs by many great songwriters over the years and we have also chosen some songs from other genres that we thought we could have fun recording and that our fans would enjoy hearing. “Snowbird” was one of the first songs on our list once we decided on the Canadian theme after recording “Blackbird” – my wife had suggested that song many times and now it seemed like the perfect song to feature Greg Blake’s fabulous voice. Some of the covers we have done on past recordings include “Viva Las Vegas,” “Ramblin’ Fever,” “Dream of Me,” “I Cried Myself Awake,” “Big River,” “Sea of Heartbreak,” “Looking Out My Back Door,” “Sweet Home Chicago,” “City of New Orleans,” our entire Country Boy: A Tribute to John Denver recording, “Alberta Bound” and several other songs on the Great Blue North release.

I must say, that as the years pass so quickly and the time between the first record and the current recording becomes so long I realize how fortunate and blessed I have been to be able to keep making music with so many wonderful musicians/people/friends. At times I have felt that the first recording was below the professional level but because of this interview and going back to listen to it, I now truly understand that we can only do our best throughout this journey, be thankful that we are able to keep growing and learning and appreciate our accomplishments no matter how insignificant they may seem at any given time.

Photo Credit: Jamey Guy

From ‘Heartworn Highways’ to Chicago, Rodney Crowell Keeps Getting Better

Posted on by Editor

There is a crossroads of 1970s folk, blues, and nonconformity in Texas. Ask students of it about Rodney Crowell, and chances are, visions of a lean, baby-faced guitar picker belting out “Bluebird Wine” at Guy and Susanna Clark’s kitchen table flood their brains. It’s a scene from Heartworn Highways that is both wild and tender, captured when Crowell was just 25 years old. Today, that Houston kid is 72. He’s won Grammys, topped charts, pushed the musical and literary boundaries of songwriting, and continued to write and record, as friends and mentors passed away.

Produced by Wilco’s Jeff Tweedy, Crowell’s new album The Chicago Sessions is the latest evidence that Crowell isn’t just continuing: He keeps getting better. The 10-track collection was recorded live in Tweedy’s warehouse studio, perched atop a northwest Chicago building. Crowell had always wanted to record in Chicago. “That would be Chuck Berry, Howlin’ Wolf, Muddy Waters, John Prine, and Steve Goodman who have a lot to do with that,” Crowell says. “The Rolling Stones, as soon as they got to America, said, ‘Let me go to Chicago.’”

The ghosts and recordings that drew Crowell to Chicago did right by him. Surrounded by his own go-to players (guitarist Jedd Hughes, pianist Catherine Marx, and bassist Zachariah Hickman) plus two drummers of Tweedy’s choosing, Crowell sounds smooth, sly, and often downright happy. “It was liberating. I felt no pressure whatsoever,” he says. “If I’m producing myself, I’m wearing one too many hats. I’m helping everybody else and making sure I can make them get to where we’re all going, sometimes to my own detriment. But with a producer like Jeff Tweedy or Joe Henry, hey, I’m freed up. I’ll just play and sing.” He pauses, then adds, “I’m really good when I just play and sing.”

Gratitude and race, self-worth and religion, cynicism and hope: The songs on The Chicago Sessions cover ample ground without feeling disconnected.

A swampy shuffle, “Somebody Loves You” is a master class on cultural commentary and exposing shifty motivations. With subversive conviction on par with Tom Waits, Crowell implicitly questions people in power who shush the disenfranchised with assurances that somebody — in this case, Jesus — loves them.

There’s lead in the water, knees on your neck
Son of your father, born to neglect
Mind your own business, siren gone’ wail
Make one false move brother wind up dead or in jail
It’s been 400 years right down to the day
Somebody loves you, least that’s what they say

“As a writer, I need the stakes to be high,” Crowell says. “I am hard on myself as a singer because I’ve heard Ray Charles, and I’ve heard Don Everly. I’ve heard Aretha Franklin. ‘Look, man,’ I say to myself: ‘You don’t have that voice. But you gotta deliver on what you got.’”

Crowell confesses that really, he didn’t care for his own voice much at all until he was about 50 years old. “I knew I was writing — I developed early as a songwriter,” he says. “But I wasn’t delivering at the level I wanted to deliver when I would record those songs. I stayed with it, and I outgrew it.”

But to the rest of us, Crowell’s voice is and always has been lovely: steady, expressive, and charged, like an electric orb capable of warm light or hot sparks. Another album standout, “Loving You Is the Only Way to Fly,” which Crowell co-wrote with Hughes and Sarah Buxton, is a pining love song, perfectly executed. The sweet keys and strings are timeless. Tweedy’s production throughout the record is exquisite. “Making Lovers Out of Friends,” another track off The Chicago Sessions, is a testament to the power of a great producer and a great song, reminiscent of Billy Sherrill’s work with Charlie Rich, both in sonic texture and achievement.

As a writer, Crowell doesn’t cut himself any slack as a protagonist. Over the years, he’s developed a habit of being hard on himself in lyrics — or perhaps, of seeing himself clearly and confessing self-perceived shortcomings. “Lucky,” a piano-driven song he wrote as a birthday gift for his wife Claudia, plays with a bit of exasperation: “Anyone with eyes could see, I’d had about enough of me.” The record’s sauntering blues track “Oh Miss Claudia” hits similar ideas.

But it’s not just songs written recently. The Chicago Sessions also includes Crowell’s self-penned “You’re Supposed to Be Feeling Good,” originally recorded by Emmylou Harris in 1977. Oscillating between stripped-down acoustic and groovy full-band swells, the song picks up the same self-deprecating themes: “You’re supposed to be in your prime / You’re not supposed to be wasting your time / Feeling like you’re down and out over someone like me.”

Crowell often credits friends or lovers with seeing the best in him or pulling him through tough times. “I know it seems like that, honestly,” Crowell says of being hard on himself, then laughs a little. “They deserve the credit.”

Crowell doles out credit when it comes to his craft, too. “Guy and Townes [Van Zandt] were right there at the beginning of my development,” he says. “Guy was a generous mentor, in a way — the way we talked about writing. Discussed it. Examined it. Townes was around intermittently because he was traveling a lot. When he was around, he was a bit jealous of my relationship with Guy. And rightfully so. He and Guy were tight friends before I ever came around.”

Then, Crowell sets the scene: “Did you ever see Don’t Look Back? Remember Bob Dylan and Donovan in the hotel room? Donovan plays this kind of sappy, folky, flowery song for Bob Dylan, and then Dylan picks up a guitar and sings, ‘It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue.’ He slaughters Donovan’s song with a masterful song. Well, I had that same experience with Townes, just in the privacy of the breakfast table at Guy’s house.”

Crowell pauses, then explains, “‘No Place to Fall’ is exactly what happened. I was sitting there, going on about something, and Townes said, ‘I’m going to play you a song.’ And it just crushed me.”

In a nod to his artistic education and one of the figures who delivered it, Crowell recorded “No Place to Fall” for The Chicago Sessions. “Listen, if Townes had not crushed me with ‘No Place to Fall,’ I wouldn’t have written ‘Till I Gain Control Again,’” Crowell says. “It was like, ‘Oh, that’s what it is. That’s what you aim for. If you don’t aim for that, you’re selling the whole deal short.’”

Crowell pondering where he’d be without Van Zandt’s lyrical gutting spurs a bigger question: Where would roots music be without Crowell? His sheer musicality, instincts, and determination to recognize greatness and then, instead of feeling defeated, aspiring to match it in his own way, has propelled an entire art form forward.

Widespread mainstream success — especially at the high levels Crowell has achieved — can lead to oversights of actual artistic achievement. While Crowell himself often describes his relationship to Van Zandt and Clark as one of student and teachers, over the last five decades, Crowell’s consistently brilliant output has proven he shouldn’t be framed solely as a disciple of songwriting giants, but as their peer.

Clark and Van Zandt were the sons of attorneys. Crowell was the son of a heavy drinking dive bar musician, born on the wrong side of the tracks. He comes from East Houston, historically an industrial sector, marked by factories and proximity to oil refineries. He’s never shied away from his past and people. “Houston, Wayside Drive — Avenue P, where my parents lived when I was born,” Crowell muses. “It always meant something to me.”

After a brief stint in college, Crowell sought knowledge on his own — perpetually. His lilting cadence and thoughtful care with language is like that of a professor, especially when he dissects music or history. His curiosity isn’t just intellectual, but spiritual, too. He explores and sings about acceptance and peace, especially when talking about friends, himself, or even people with whom he disagrees. The Chicago Sessions’ closer, “Ready to Move On,” is a meditation on balance, and Crowell’s pursuit of it.

“I’m sitting out here, listening to the wind go through the trees, thinking, ‘Wow, I live on top of this hill, surrounded by all this green. Man, how did I get here from East Houston?’” Crowell is talking about his home, just outside of Nashville. “The way I got here was, I fell in love with the sound of these songs, from my father singing them to me when I was a wee child. It makes me humble, in a way. God, I have gratitude for that. Whatever my sensibilities are that came through DNA from my parents that made me so attuned to the sounds that were coming at me, all the way through Merle Haggard, the Beatles, anything that moved me. It’s like, ‘Whoa, man. What a lucky break I got.’”

Photo Credit: Claudia Church

WATCH: Rodney Crowell, “Everything at Once” (Feat. Jeff Tweedy)

Posted on by Editor

Artist: Rodney Crowell
Hometown: Houston, Texas; Nashville, Tennessee
Song: “Everything at Once” (Feat. Jeff Tweedy)
Album: The Chicago Sessions (Produced by Jeff Tweedy)
Release Date: May 5, 2023
Label: New West Records

In Their Words: “It occurred to me that Jeff and I are both songwriters, and we ought to write something together for this album. We could have harmonized on it and gone down an Everly Brothers route, but ultimately we decided to just sing in unison and throw it out there like an all-skate. I love that we didn’t get too precious about it.” — Rodney Crowell

“The way that Rodney writes is deeply connected to a classic era of country songwriters that I’ve always loved. In my estimation, it’s as close as I can get to working with Townes Van Zandt or Felice and Boudleaux Bryant — people who crafted songs with a very specific sensibility. And I like being near that.” — Jeff Tweedy

Photo Credit: Jamie Kelter Davis

LISTEN: The Cash Box Kings, “Oscar’s Motel”

Posted on by Editor

Artist: The Cash Box Kings
Hometown: Oscar Wilson – Chicago, Illinois; Joe Nosek – Madison, Wisconsin
Song: “Oscar’s Motel”
Album: Oscar’s Motel
Release Date: March 17, 2023
Label: Alligator Records

In Their Words: “Musically, the song harkens back to the heyday of 1940s and ’50s Chicago blues. Oscar grew up in a household where records by people like Muddy Waters and the Howlin’ Wolf were played throughout the day. Elmore James, Junior Wells, and Honeyboy Edwards were family friends and would come over and pick guitar at Friday night fish fry parties that Oscar’s mother would hold in their apartment. We tried to channel that hard-driving and gritty Chess Records blues sound on this track.” — Joe Nosek

“The last couple of years has been hard on everybody. We wrote this song as a way for people to put their troubles aside and let loose. This song is an invitation to come on down to Oscar’s Motel where there’s always a party going on… There’s plenty of blues, booze, and barbecue… A place where you can forget about your worries and just have a good time… And ladies if you’re feeling lonely, you know what to do… Come on down to Oscar’s Motel!” — Oscar Wilson

Photo Credit: Janet Mami Takayama

LISTEN: Frances Luke Accord, “All the Things”

Posted on by Editor

Artist: Frances Luke Accord
Hometown: South Bend, Indiana (Brian Powers), Boston & Chicago (Nicholas Gunty)
Song: “All the Things”
Album: Safe in Sound
Release Date: February 9, 2023
Label: Two-Dale Records/Tone Tree Music

In Their Words: “A song that speaks to the heart of our indie/folk/bluegrass/pop sensibilities, ‘All the Things’ is a playful but heartfelt ode to boundless love and companionship. Made with help from Don Mitchell (banjo, percussion, harmonium, production) of Darlingside, this happy-go-lucky tune is a warm ray of sunshine on our sophomore LP, Safe in Sound. Written during the dark days of COVID lockdown, we crafted the lyrics in a way that (we hope!) begs the listener to stay unabashedly hopeful and CONNECTED; for at the end of the day, our perspective on suffering — coupled with our ability to discuss it in an honest and open way with others — will determine its grip on us. We hope you like it as much as we enjoyed writing it!” — Brian Powers & Nicholas Gunty, Frances Luke Accord

Photo Credit: Luke Jackson

LISTEN: Lauren Anderson, “I Know”

Posted on by Editor

Artist: Lauren Anderson
Hometown: Chicago, Illinois
Song: “I Know”
Album: Burn It All Down
Release Date: September 9, 2022
Label: LA Records

In Their Words: “‘I Know’ is my love song to the stranger that is my future husband. I put into this song all of my hopes and dreams I have for this man. I hope we have 2 dogs that we adore. That he knows what to say when I’m upset and I know what to remind him to bring on trips. That we know how to work through tough times together. I don’t know this man yet, but I wanted to write a song to gift him for when I do. ‘I know…but I don’t know you yet.’

“I first wrote the song and made a quick recording on my phone. I sent it and a chord chart to my band and we worked out all the kinks musically. Meanwhile I rewrote and edited the lyrics about a dozen times right up until we went into the studio. Then we knocked it out, added some harmonies, and it’s done! It sounds like a quick process, but it’s actually a lot of work. I record a work tape when I run through it with the band before going into the studio. And so until I get to the studio, I’m constantly listening and reworking parts of the song until it fits. Sometimes I think songs ‘talk’ to you and tell you the direction they want to go in and when the song is done. Sometimes it’s clear and other songs make you work for it. This one definitely required several revisions until it was happy, haha. Hope my future husband likes it, haha! 😊” — Lauren Anderson

Photo Credit: Mitzy Rose

Comforted by Dolly and Lucinda, Angel Olsen Offers a ‘Big Time’ Departure

Posted on by Editor

Angel Olsen wants you to stop what you’re doing and go listen to Dolly Parton’s 1968 album Just Because I’m a Woman. Recorded while she was still singing with Porter Wagoner, it’s not one of her most famous albums, definitely not as celebrated as her records in the early ‘70s and ‘80s, but it’s Olsen’s favorite. She loves “The Bridge,” a song about pregnancy and suicide: “Nobody’s talking about that song, but they should.” And she’s tickled by a tune called “I’ll Oil Wells Love You,” which sounds like parody of Parton’s 1974 smash “I Will Always Love You” despite the fact that it hadn’t even been written in 1968.

“It’s all so scandalous,” Olsen says of “Oil Wells,” but the whole record is “so powerful. Dolly’s just being sassy and very real about her career. I love the way her voice sounds, but the production is one of my favorite parts of the album. It just sounds so good.”

Dolly in particular and country music in general helped Olsen weather the pandemic and a broken heart. While cooped up inside her home in Asheville, North Carolina, she gravitated toward Townes Van Zandt, Lucinda Williams and others. Their music was a distraction from all the worry and stress of Covid, but it was also a balm for the hurt and confusion that followed the abrupt end of her first queer relationship. Country soothed her, and eventually it found its way back into her own music.

Olsen specialized in a dark, austere strain of country folk earlier in her career, both as a member of Bonnie “Prince” Billy’s touring band (that’s her singing on 2011’s Wolfroy Goes to Town) and as a solo artist. Partly as a means of avoiding the pigeonhole of Americana, however, Olsen gravitated more toward rock guitars and icy synths on later albums, including her 2016 breakthrough My Woman. Those instruments brought out new aspects of her songwriting, which favored big choruses and lyrics evoking messy emotions. Last year she even released an EP called Aisles, featuring her covers of ‘80s synthpop hits like Alphaville’s “Forever Young” and Men Without Hats’ “Safety Dance.”

Obsessing over Dolly — and Lucinda and Roger Miller and others — during the pandemic made Olsen more comfortable embracing the sounds and songwriting strategies of country music, which inform her seventh album, Big Time. Most of the music was recorded live in the studio with producer Jonathan Wilson and a small crew of backing musicians; strings and horn overdubs were added later. Songs like “All the Good Times” and “Dream Thing” straddle the line between Dusty Springfield and Owen Bradley, which makes a fine palette for Olsen’s powerful vocals. She doesn’t have much of a twang in her voice, but her singing expresses feelings acutely — a quality that does recall Dolly herself.

Retaining the drama of her previous albums, Big Time nudges Olsen into new musical territory — which is fitting for an album about facing and even embracing big changes in life, about closing old chapters to open new ones. Pandemic aside, the last few years have been tumultuous, to say the least. Just weeks after Olsen came out as queer to her adoptive parents, her father died. Her mother followed two months later. She was still reeling with grief when she flew out to Los Angeles to record Big Time. But she was also starting a new relationship with the writer Beau Thibodeaux (who co-wrote the title track).

Big Time reflects these changes, examining the different ideas of love and devotion. “I’m loving you big time,” she sings on the title track. Olsen might be singing to Beau, or to her parents, or even to herself. But when she sings the chorus of “Ghost On” — “I don’t know if you can take such a good thing coming to you” — she might as well be singing to herself. What makes these songs country, even more than their arrangements, is their deft, real-life balance of grief and joy, mourning and celebrating. Olsen lets all of these conflicting emotions bleed into one another, because there’s never a clear line between happy and sad.

BGS: I wanted to start by asking about the sound of this album. I wondered if these songs suggested this kind of treatment, or if you were writing songs that suggested this kind of Dusty Springfield treatment.

Olsen: I wrote “All the Good Times” years ago and thought about giving it to someone [to record], because I wasn’t making that kind of music at the time. But then during the pandemic, I listened to a lot of outlaw country, a lot of Dolly and J.J. Cale. Roger Miller’s Tender Look at Love. That record is so good. I don’t know if you’ve heard it, but it’s amazing! But I was also listening to a lot of other stuff, like George Harrison. I started to think, you know, the best-sounding things are really simple. I want to write something that really simple. It wasn’t like I thought, “Now I’ll write some country music.”

But I’d just had my heart broken. I had a pretty bad breakup where the person just disappeared. It’s all water under the bridge now, but at the time I thought, “What happened?” I really had to sit with it. I was listening to some Lucinda Williams stuff, so I thought, I’m just going to get into my psyche, into my writing zone a little bit. I never sit down and say, “I’m going to do this kind of record now.” Although I guess I did that with Aisles, which was an EP of ‘80s covers. But covers are different. I never sit down with material that’s mine and think, “This is how this material will go.”

What’s your history with country music? Was it something you grew up listening to, or did you discover it later?

I listened to a lot of stuff like Garth Brooks growing up, thanks to my parents, but I never really got into contemporary country until fairly recently. As I was getting older, I found myself really loving Dolly Parton and Skeeter Davis. She was huge for me. I just loved how she had this voice like a dirty kid, like she’s out on the playground making trouble. It’s not exactly heartwarming or a typically beautiful sounding voice, but her singing is just such a mood. And then I got really into Dolly Parton, of course. During the pandemic I got really into Lucinda Williams and started to really appreciate contemporary Americana. It’s been a long, winding journey for me, but now I’m here.

How did working with producer Jonathan Wilson direct these songs?

Working with him, he just intuitively knew what I was going for. He’s obsessed with the same kind of records and the same kind of sounds. We discussed it openly, and I didn’t have to work extra hard to explain what I needed. He just knew. He didn’t need to try to reinvent my sound, but just wanted to make something that sounded like me. That made a huge impact. We were just able to cut through the bullshit and get straight to the point.

It sounds like you recorded this album during a period of deep grief, where you went in without having rehearsed the songs with your band. This almost feels like a very open-ended approach. Did you ever think something might not come of those sessions?

I like to have a vision of what I want to start with. Otherwise, it wastes money and time. Maybe one day I’ll be able to just go and mess around. But I’m not the kind of person who likes to write in front of people, so I don’t like to write when I’m in the studio. Sometimes songs do happen in that situation just by chance, just by being there. I like to write as much as possible and then book dates, so that I can just be in a cave with the other people there. I’ve learned over time to be more open to what other people hear within my vision, so that it can be more collaborative and not just me telling people what to do.

So we just went in there [Fivestar Studios in Topanga Canyon] and played the songs a few times. We recorded them on tape and listened back to find the structures we liked as a four or five-piece band. Then, if we didn’t like the drums, we could redo that part of it. Or I could redo my vocal. That happened a lot, because I was playing guitar and singing. That changes the way I sing. I can do it live and it’s totally chill. I can get into a flow. But I really wanted to make sure I got the strongest vocals possible. I wanted to make sure my palate was open and I was present with the words I was singing.

How was it recording out in Topanga Canyon?

Topanga is so beautiful! It was so nice to come to L.A. and immediately leave the city for the mountains. That’s more my vibe. But I actually had this thought while we were recording: We better be backing up all these files in case there’s a huge fire! It was just like hanging out with cool people and then we’d make music. That’s what it should be. Maybe not everybody agrees, but I think it’s so important to have a good rapport with everyone to make something that feels good, that you feel good about. It’s important to be open and honest with people without hurting their feelings or creating a really weird atmosphere. That’s a huge part of making music that nobody really talks about. After we left the studio, I just wanted to keep playing with those people. “Can we just hang out together later? Can we all sit on the floor and listen to records?”

You need to trust these people that are playing your songs.

Exactly. Sometimes, when certain songs took a little longer to get, then we tried to experiment with them more. Usually we found something even bigger. That’s so exciting, and I think it makes the songs more exciting. We’d decide, “Oh this chorus on ‘Go Home’ needs something to make it sound eerie. What if we just stacked my voice underneath the main vocals, but just, like, wailing sounds?” I didn’t want it to be coherent. And Jonathan was like, “Oh shit, we should try it through this tape echo and do it at different speeds for each one.” So we sat down on the floor, like little kids with toys, and I’m just sitting there wailing like an idiot. But I love the way it turned out. It sounds like the soundtrack to a desert island gone wrong. We were like, “Whoa, this is trippy.” And there were these wild banshee noises behind my vocals, and I’ve never done that.

That part of the song reminds me of Simon & Garfunkel’s “The Only Living Boy in New York.”

It reminds me of George Harrison. Not that this is anything like what he has ever done, but he does stuff like that a lot. The Beatles did, too, where they would do harmonized vocals where a guitar solo or instrumental lead might be. People don’t really do that anymore. I need to do that more. Instead of thinking, “Oh this is where the guitar goes,” maybe I could just sing that little melody. That’s why it’s so much fun to be in the studio, because it reminds you to use different parts of your brain.

It’s such a simple idea, but very effective.

Yes. It’s simple. I think so much of the music I like is simple. That’s what makes it great — it wasn’t overthought. It was just a confident, weird-ass move that somebody decided to take. It was just a simple little thing that changed the song forever. I love stuff like that. The easiest song on the album was “Chasing the Sun.” “This Is How It Works” was probably my favorite to listen back to, because I love the Crumar and the organ sound together. That detuning sound just sounds so trippy, like you’re standing in place melting.

Did those experiments change how you related to the lyrics you’d written?

It made me feel them in a different way — in a cool way, I think. It brought them out to me.

Earlier you mentioned the mountains being more your vibe. Is that what took you from Chicago to Asheville?

Chicago was great in the early aughts. I loved being there from 2007 on. It was such a special music scene. I don’t know what it’s like now, but Asheville has a growing music scene. There’s a lot of stuff coming out of there now. And a lot of kids are staying there instead of moving away, which I think is really changing the music scene. People who graduate don’t leave. They stay and they play in bands. And now people from Durham and Greensboro and places like that are moving to Asheville. It’s fun. It’s like what people say Austin was like in the ‘70s, before it got eaten up by big industry. There are still some pockets of weirdness left.

When I’m home I like to drive out to Hot Springs and Marshall and Sand Mountain, put on a good album, and then go for a hike. It’s chill. I think a lot of people spend their time that way. You might see some hiker wearing their new Patagonia out there, or you might see a punk kid. Everybody’s going out in nature in Asheville. That’s what I love about it. You can do so many things — you can go trout fishing, you can go kayaking, you can go up to a bald mountaintop and see 360° views of the mountains. It’s just a walk up a hill.

And the state has such a rich musical history.

Yes! There’s a lot of people in their 40s who’ve been playing for 15 years and are playing incredible blues guitar or making incredible Appalachian folk music. I just met a new friend the other day, and we were talking about this one specific ridge. This person is my age or younger, and they told me there is this whole book about the history of this one ridge. That’s my shit! That’s what I wanna know about. I wanna fucking read that book! When I moved to Asheville 10 years ago, I fell in love with it for that reason. There were all these little nooks and crannies, but there was also so much history. And back in the day people in Western North Carolina were very liberal — going back to Civil War times. It’s an interesting place that way. Its history is so fascinating, the moonshine culture and all that.

I guess it’s too early to say, but have these songs changed at all since you wrote them? Have they revealed new meaning for you over time?

Not yet. I think they might, as time goes on. But right now they’re still fresh to me. I sat with them a long time before the record was released, so now I’m just ready to freakin’ play them! The vinyl backup means everyone has to wait for their record to be ready. So you finish everything and then you have to wait for a year. And I don’t want to write too much new material because I don’t want this material to feel like old news yet. I’ve been journaling and writing other stuff, which is nice — good practice — but now I’m excited to play these songs for a while.

Obviously they can’t sound exactly the same as they do on the record. There have been adjustments and things we’ve had to figure out with the live band. I don’t have an entire string section, for example, and I don’t want to do everything for a backing track. So we’ve had to stretch our brains and be more creative during that process. The songs are definitely changing form in that way, but they’re still pretty straight up, still pretty simple.

I think the hardest part is finding people to play these songs and who won’t be upset if I say, “Hey can you play less?” Sometimes it feels so ridiculous to tell a really talented musician to just play in open G. But I’ll pay you the big bucks just to play that one chord! But when you take a bunch of simple parts together, it can make something really special and big. You have to remind yourself and other people that that’s how it can work. A simple part can have a huge impact.

It’s been weird to have this role where I’m telling people what to do and what to play. I never wanted to be a leader! I just wanted to write music. And I don’t even know all the answers. At rehearsal I’ve got seven people asking me different questions, and part of me just wants to say, I don’t know! But I have to know. I have to think about what I want on that moment, which is so much emotional work because you want to say it the right way. The stuff that isn’t music is the hardest part of it all, you know? The easy part is just getting up there and playing music.

Photo Credit: Angela Ricciardi

LISTEN: Kevin Andrew Prchal, “American Oblivion”

Posted on by Editor

Artist: Kevin Andrew Prchal
Hometown: Chicago
Song: “American Oblivion”
Album: Unknowing
Release Date: May 27, 2022

In Their Words: “I’m proud to call America my home. Its freedoms have afforded me experiences and opportunities so many around the world could only dream of. Its music changed me and set me down an infinite path of discovery and inspiration. Its people raised me, instilling in me values that are timeless and resilient. And its history, while stained, decorated with stories of courage, dissent and progress.

“But no matter which way you look at it, the past few years have been a sad chapter in American history. The pettiness, the righteousness, the abhorrent meanness displayed by everyone from strangers on the street, to quote-tweeting trolls, to the most celebrated public and political figures. And perhaps most concerning, the complete disregard for human life throughout what should have been a unifying front against a devastating global pandemic. Who or what you choose to blame for how we got here depends on where you get your news, but all I know is this place has been utterly unrecognizable.

“And so rather than dissolving into the outrage and noise, I did what any sensitive guy with a guitar would do: I found a quiet room and wrote a song about it. It’s a silly song. Absurd, even. But as the great Nina Simone once said, it’s an artist’s duty to reflect the times. How we move forward from this moment in oblivion, I don’t know. But there’s hope in remembering one thing: America’s story is still being written.” — Kevin Andrew Prchal

Photo Credit: Brett Rhoades

LISTEN: Andrew Bird, “Underlands”

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Artist: Andrew Bird
Hometown: Chicago, Illinois
Song: “Underlands”
Album: Inside Problems
Release Date: June 3, 2022
Label: Loma Vista Recordings

In Their Words: “You just don’t know what’s under the surface, be it the land, the sea, our skin. You could be whistling away, projecting contentedness, when really there’s a swirling twisted mess underneath. Looking up, there’s the knowable universe but unless you get into astrology, you’ll find the stars don’t owe us anything and you’re left less assured than when we thought gods threw down lightning bolts. ‘Underlands’ introduces an album that deals with the unseen underneath and the membrane that separates your outside problems from your inside problems. … I have so much fun taking my ideas apart before they really have defined themselves as distinct songs, when they’re still in that amoeba-like state. I love the feeling of chasing ideas and having them split off and go hang out with another idea and then butting them up against each other to see if they talk to each other.” — Andrew Bird

Photo Credit: David Black