BGS 5+5: VOTH

Artist: Caleb Voth of VOTH
Hometown: Tulsa, Oklahoma
Latest single: “Sweetest Regret”

Which artist has influenced you the most … and how?

For me personally, it has been John Mayer. With older siblings, I was always listening to music that was different than my peers. I remember when the album Heavier Things came out. I was only 11 years old and was captivated by Mayer’s ability to create alternate melodies with his guitar that were different than what he was singing. I didn’t even play an instrument yet but I was picking up on the intricacies of his songwriting and it captivated me. He has a way of making you feel and reminisce about things that you haven’t even experienced.

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

I would have to say it was hearing John Mayer’s Heavier Things album. Like I said, I was 11 when it came out and picked up a guitar at the age of 12. “Neon” was one of my favorite songs so I thought, “I’m going to have that be the first song I learn.” Oh boy, was I in for a treat. I actually still to this day have never mastered that song fully. I literally don’t know how he plays that song with its alternate melodies AND sings it. It truly amazes me.

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

Probably a song that we haven’t cut yet. It’s called “Show Myself to the Door” and it was written from a real and raw experience I was going through. I really liked this girl and thought there was going to be something there. I completely shared my heart and feelings with her–and there was nothing back. The song describes the guy saying everything he could possibly say, her not feeling the same way, then him showing himself to the door. The showing myself to the door never physically happened, but it was a metaphor of putting yourself out there, not being accosted, then having no choice but to walk away.

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

Man, that is a tough question. I would have to say probably right now–a fat juicy cheeseburger while listening to Chris Stapleton melt my face off. He has inspired me as a songwriter to not care about what is on the radio or what is popular, and just write from the heart. And I love burgers.

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

Honestly, we don’t hide much behind our music. I think the most authentic music is written from personal experiences. So when you hear us saying “me” and “you” — it probably truly is a “me + you” experience. It’s hard for me to write and talk about things I haven’t been through before. A lot of people can pull it off–but for us, it’s a personal thing.

BGS Class of 2017: Albums

Way back in January, we proclaimed 2017 to be the “Year of the Banjo” and predicted it would be a stellar year for women in roots music, as well as the more justice-minded songwriters in our midst. All these months later, our intuition proved correct on all counts. And we are thrilled by that. Having Alynda Segarra and Rhiannon Giddens reign supreme in our BGS Class of 2017 is an absolute honor. Both women took on tough thematic terrain with grace and gravitas, and we couldn’t be more proud to support them and all the other fantastic artists who make the BGS roots community so artistically inspiring and culturally important. — Kelly McCartney, BGS Editorial Director

Co-Valedictorians: Hurray for the Riff Raff, The Navigator / Rhiannon Giddens, Freedom Highway

In a year rampant with talk of division — coasts vs heartland, white vs people of color, red vs blue — many artists, thinkers, and activists have attempted to bridge these divides by zooming out and broadening perspective, pointing to the core commonality of our humanity. With The Navigator, Hurray for the Riff Raff accomplishes this same unifying goal, but with the exact opposite approach. Led by Puerto Rican-American Alynda Segarra, they zoom in, viewing these divisions, these cultural and societal rifts, through a microscope trained on New York City, magnifying a Puerto Rican neighborhood and a fictitious young Puerto Rican girl, Navita. The album’s concept — granular, focused, and minute — doesn’t alienate listeners with this specificity. Rather, it plays like a colorful movie entirely enclosed within its own soundtrack, relating Navita’s heart, soul, and story to an audience that, for the most part, would feel they could never relate to a woman like her. Segarra and Hurray for the Riff Raff demonstrate through The Navigator that we ought not shy away from the intensely personal, singular, individual aspects of identity and identity politics for the sake of “coming together.” What’s more, they’ve posited a record that, taken separately, the message, concept, and music each stand on their own respective feet, but together, amplify and augment each other. The message is incredibly clear: We need not gloss over the intricate elemental parts of our differences to understand, appreciate, and love each other. Pa’lante! — Justin Hiltner

If 2017 saw an influx of banjo-centric projects, it also turned out to be a year when music’s political stakes rose ever higher. Singer/songwriter Rhiannon Giddens pairs both, using her instrument as a historical beacon that traces a line from slavery to the growing spate of police brutality. Through narratives about slave mothers, church singers, young men in the crosshairs, and more, Giddens uses these personal stories to explore their ongoing political resonance. Beginning with “At the Purchaser’s Option” — written from the vantage point of a slave mother forced to contend with her baby’s future as a commodity rather than a consciousness — Giddens sews together a quilt of American roots music that is as varied as the stories it encompasses. She explores old-time songs, reels, blues, funk, gospel, and more, stitching her way into and through the rich traditions that inform her craft and comprise her heritage. “Better Get It Right the First Time” blends funk-blues, a rap intersection, and Giddens’ authoritative vocals to challenge how states view and police Black male bodies, while the instrumental “Following the North Star” says everything about that experience through a rhythmically charged dialogue between banjo, drums, and castanets. The relationship between art and politics on Giddens’ new album is not an explicit call to action, but a reminder about the power of stories — both melodic and lyrical. As Giddens admits on “Birmingham Sunday” — about the 1963 church bombing — “All we can do is sing you a song.” — Amanda Wicks

Best Travel Buddy: Becca Mancari, Good Woman

Becca Mancari’s debut album is a world unto itself. Over the course of 33 minutes, the Nashville singer/songwriter crafts atmospheric Americana imbued with a haze that brings to mind the faded edges of a sepia-toned photograph. Born in Staten Island, raised in rural Pennsylvania, and having spent time in Florida, the Appalachian region of Virginia, and even India, Mancari has experienced firsthand the significance of place. It’s only fitting, then, that on each of the album’s nine tracks, Mancari has created an environment to get lost in. It’s a notion that extends beyond Good Woman’s sonic palette and is carried out visually in the album’s music videos. In the video for the title track, Mancari embarks on a snowy walk in the Arizona wilderness with the plaintive landscape providing the perfect backdrop for her rumination on what, in fact, constitutes a “good woman.” Mancari seemingly walks right out of that snow storm and into Arizona’s breathtaking sunny expanse for the accompanying video for “Golden,” while the slow-burning “Arizona Fire” also finds its staging area in Arizona’s canyons. On the standout “Summertime Mama,” which waxes poetic about a warm-weather crush, Mancari sticks closer to home by offering a glimpse into a carefree summer day she spends in Nashville with her girlfriend and fellow songwriters Jesse Lafser and Brittany Howard, with whom she plays in a side project dubbed Bermuda Triangle. Cruising with the windows down en route to an impromptu fishing trip and then onto a nighttime gig, Mancari’s adventures mirror the song’s breezy veneer. Just as Good Woman expands and contracts across terrains, Mancari crosses sonic bounds with her dream-like reflections, making her one of the most significant songwriters to come out of Nashville this year. — Desiré Moses

Best Reminder to Stop and Breathe: Bedouine, Bedouine

There’s no point in talking about Bedouine’s self-titled debut in anything other than colors. Between the rose-tinged “Heart Take Flight,” the dusty blue “Back to You,” the gold-flaked “Summer Cold,” and the silver-inflected “Solitary Daughter,” singer/songwriter Azniv Korkejian’s album hangs like a painting. That’s all thanks to her dusky voice, an easy, somnambulant tone that fits colorfully against Virginia label Spacebomb’s trademark strings. In between songs about her native Syria and her life in Los Angeles, the nomadic Korkejian details a romantic relationship that caught her off guard and encouraged her to stay. Rather than train her gaze on her lover, though, she holds up a mirror to herself and traces the effect love has on her. She defiantly projects her independence on “Solitary Daughter,” gives herself permission to enjoy new love on “Heart Take Flight,” and inevitably questions her lover’s commitment on “Skyline.” Bedouine reflects notes of Leonard Cohen, Nick Drake, and other poetically driven but somber-toned singer/songwriters, but in the end, its creator has captured a colorful mood that remains solely her own. — AW

Most Likely to Kick Your Ass While Breaking Your Heart: Caroline Spence, Spades & Roses

In a year that kicked off with the Women’s March and seems to be ending on scores #MeToo moments, Caroline Spence‘s “Softball,” from Spades & Roses is an anthem for any woman who is sick of battling on a different playing field. In the hands of the Nashville-based Spence, this is done through the artful metaphor of softball: an unnecessarily gendered sport that keeps women from even having a shot at the big leagues. With a delicate chug of guitar and the soothing coo of Spence’s voice, it’s just one timeless moment from Spades & Roses, a collection of stunning folk songs that explore both the world inside of her own bedroom and the world at large. Spence is self-aware in romance on “All the Beds I’ve Made,” ready to surrender on “Slow Dancer,” and eager to fight on “Softball,” showcasing a keen knack for folk songs often dripped in rock and packed with poetic, artful lyricism. Produced by Neilson Hubbard (The Apache Relay, Matthew Perryman Jones) and featuring Grand Ole Opry fiddler Eamon McLoughlin and cellist David Henry, the album puts Spence’s pitch-perfect, breathy vocals at the center of songs which effortlessly jump from personal confessions to feats of narrative storytelling. “I’ve been playing shows out West with no guarantee that anybody’s ever gonna give a damn about me,” she sings on “Hotel Amarillo,” a track that encapsulates the experiences of any musician who’s slugged through date after date with barely enough money made to keep on the road. But, in her hands, it’s also a study of choices, and all that we’re left to leave behind when we follow our dreams. It’s well worth giving a damn about, indeed. — Marissa Moss

Best Addition to the Time Capsule: Casey Campbell, Mandolin Duets, Vol. 1

Bluegrass is unique among genres in that its living legends — the men and women who helped create and shape it — have never been set apart from the fans, amateur players, and up-and-coming talents. They not only mingle and interact freely with all of the above, but they actively facilitate the future of the music and the greater community, as a whole, by mentoring and shepherding young people. Mandolinist Casey Campbell quite literally grew up at the feet of a host of these living legends, so it’s fitting that, for his first album, Mandolin Duets, Vol. 1, he called upon 11 of these heroes and mentors, each showcased in their own intimate, beautifully pared-down duet. The record is a treasure trove of bluegrass mandolin and the players who have pioneered the form. Grand Ole Opry members Jesse McReynolds and Bobby Osborne hold down the traditional end of the spectrum, while David Grisman and Sam Bush test the waters on the fringes of bluegrass, with all iterations and styles in between represented. Campbell’s own Monroe-infused, clean, studied picking anchors each track, providing the perfect artistic sounding board for each of his guests. This is, by all accounts, a niche album within a niche genre, but the music doesn’t necessitate a bluegrass history lesson or individual bios for each mandolin guru to be fully appreciated. If the future is fair, this record will join the ranks of Skaggs & Rice and Bill Monroe & Doc Watson’s Live Duet Recordings as one of the most important bluegrass duet records ever made. — JH

Most Likely to Cause Shivers, Sobs, or (Whiskey) Sips: Chris Stapleton, From A Room: Volume 1

Chris Stapleton’s magnetic vocals find new forms of expression on From A Room: Volume 1. Mainstream country songs like “Them Stems” prove he can play the game alongside fellow chart-toppers like Thomas Rhett and Luke Bryant, but he’s most successful when he bucks popular trends and follows his own proclivities. With emotionally strained songs like “Either Way,” which reinforce comparisons to George Jones, Stapleton not only shows off his magnanimous voice, but also its ability to communicate the most painful of experiences. “Either Way” examines the nebulous area in between love and loss, when two people realize the plateau they’ve reached as a couple won’t be overcome. Whether they stay together or decide to leave, Stapleton admits, “I won’t love you either way.” It’s the resigned dip in his vocals before he admits the line that rings forth with such agonizing honesty. He treads in a bluesy tradition with “I Was Wrong” and “Death Row,” both of which find his voice exploding past the rafters with howling pleas. Thematically, the album toes country music’s preferred line, touching on drunken nights, bad decisions, whirlwind love, and regret, but in Stapleton’s hands, these subjects don’t feel worn. His voice infuses them with an emotional mastery that creates chills. — AW

Most Likely to Hasten the End of the World: David Rawlings, Poor David’s Almanack

David Rawlings’ third solo album is as sure a harbinger of the apocalypse as any other musical release of 2017. Not because it’s so bad (it’s actually very, very good), and not because it’s that good, either (it’s actually not oceans-boil-over good). It’s because you could buy it on vinyl the day it hit stores and digital outlets. Poor David’s Almanack is the first Acony album to get a simultaneous LP release, which brings to an end Rawlings and Gillian Welch’s nearly 20 years of agonizing over pressings and sound quality. I predicted a global plague would precede such an occasion, and I’m relieved to lose that particular bet. So give these songs a spin on the turntable, which is obviously where they belong. Almanack is an endlessly inventive and lively collection of new folk tunes that sound old, as though Rawlings hadn’t written them but had found them in the back of some old antique store in the middle of nowhere. And yet, just like the old LP technology experiencing its own resurgence, these old-sounding songs somehow sound current, relevant, prescient: “Money Is the Meat in the Coconut” pokes fun at some of our swamp-draining politicians, “Good God a Woman” slyly inverts gender politics, “Come On Over My House” turns class warfare into a randy come-on. Rawlings knows these issues have been driving civilization since before we invented fire, and it’ll continue to drive the last handful of humans staving off the hordes of zombies. — Stephen Deusner

Most Likely to Soundtrack Your Next Roadtrip to Who Knows Where: Hiss Golden Messenger, Hallelujah Anyhow

M.C. Taylor’s favored subjects are home and hearth, family and faith, yet his songs are as much about the lure of the road as the comforts of home. His latest as Hiss Golden Messenger, recorded in a matter of days in North Carolina, is a highway record, an album about being lost out in America in the Anthropocene Age and trying to navigate by moral compass. What do we owe other people, strangers, and loved ones, alike? What do we owe ourselves? On “I Am the Song” and “Harder Rain,” Taylor understands those questions don’t have concrete answers — that they change from one song to another, from one person to another, from one highway to another. But that doesn’t diminish the importance of posing those questions. Instead, the slipperiness of these ideas enlivens his music, which plays with rock and folk history without putting a record collection between Taylor and the listener. “Gulfport, You’ve Been on My Mind” slyly rewrites Bob Dylan, while Van Morrison goes through the wringer of “Domino (Time Will Tell).” Best — or at least, most unexpected — may be the shoutout to the gloriously ridiculous goth act Sisters of Mercy. In his responsibility to his heroes and to his listeners, Taylor finds joy and humility and the special fulfillment of a noble calling, especially when he can rebuke a certain leader of the free world: “What’cha gonna do when the wall comes down?” he asks, not at all rhetorically. “It was built by man, and you can tear it down, tear it down.” — SD

Most Likely to Make You Buy a Shruti Box: House and Land, House and Land

When Shirley Collins recorded “The False True Love” 50 years ago, she made it sound crisp and mournful, as if she were looking out over a frosty morning. You can see her breath hang in the air, and you can sense sorrows as heavy as the clouds. When Louise Henson and Sally Anne Morgan tackle the song on their debut as House and Land, it warms up only slightly, thanks to the interplay between guitar and banjo. It’s less lonely, but no less sorrowful. It sounds more existential, as though romantic woes might blot out their souls. So call House and Land a supergroup: Morgan plays with the Black Twig Pickers and Pelt, two Virginia string bands redefining roots and folk music away from the Americana set, and Henson may be one of the most compelling folk guitarists to pluck a string in 2017. They’ve been collecting songs for a few years now, and they’ve assembled them into an album that mixes banjo, guitar, and rustic drones from a Shruti box in some ways that are familiar and other ways that are entirely new. Just as they straddle folk and avant garde, the duo also contemplate the spiritual crises of this life and the next. Songs like “The Day Is Past and Gone” and “Home Over Yonder” examine faith and its celestial reward, depicting the afterlife as a lonely place. “There was nobody there to answer for me,” they lament on “Listen to the Roll.” “I had to answer for myself.” — SD

Best Fireside Chat: Iron & Wine, Beast Epic

Sam Beam has a stately way of drawing the listener close. Beast Epic, Beam’s sixth project as Iron & Wine, opens with his whispered count in on “Claim Your Ghost” before launching into the warm reverberations of “Thomas County Law,” which boasts poetic musings like, “Every traffic light is red when it tells the truth. The church bell isn’t kidding when it cries for you.” In fact, each track on Beast Epic is rendered with such startling care and intimacy that the listener may as well be sitting fireside with Beam. With lush acoustic arrangements bound by touches of percussion, piano, harp, and cello, Beam wields a gorgeous album brimming with some of the finest songwriting to come out of Iron & Wine’s 15-year trajectory. One highlight, “Bitter Truth,” is packed with hard pills to swallow from a narrator who’s looking in the rearview mirror: “Our missing pieces walk between us, when we were moving through the door. You called ‘em mine, I called ‘em yours.” Those “pieces fall in place” on the album’s pinnacle and lead single, “Call It Dreaming.” By returning to Iron & Wine’s stripped-down roots, Beam reminds us that power can come from the quietest corners. — DM

Most Masterful Finger-Pointing: Jason Isbell, The Nashville Sound

When you make what people universally agree is an absolute masterpiece of a record fairly early on in your career, how do you ever again pick up a pen? Well, if you’re Jason Isbell trying to follow up 2013’s Southeastern, you set an entirely different bar for yourself to clear … which he did, with 2015’s Something More Than Free, and which he has done again, with The Nashville Sound. While both are filled with common-man character studies and captivatingly personal confessionals, The Nashville Sound uses some of those tales to take on politics and privilege in beautiful, bold ways. In both “Hope the High Road” and “White Man’s World,” Isbell points a finger of blame, including one at himself, to show how all of us are accountable to ourselves and to each other. Thing is, as part of the same motion, he opens his hand and extends it to anyone willing to grab on. Hard to think of other songwriters who could accomplish that feat while also rocking their asses off. It’s also hard to think of other songwriters who can switch gears so effortlessly to write some of the most stunning love songs to ever exist. As with “Cover Me Up” and “Flagship” before it, “If We Were Vampires” takes on love, Isbell-style, by turning it inside out. Dave Cobb has used the word “devastating” to describe various songs and songwriters he’s produced. In Isbell’s case, it is very often an understatement. — Kelly McCartney

Most Likely To Flip The Script: Laura Marling, Semper Femina

Since releasing her debut in 2008 at the mere age of 17, UK folkie Laura Marling has garnered a reputation as a prolific artist and a deep thinker. Her knack for intricate guitar work and lyrical allegory has solidified her place among music’s greatest storytellers, and her latest album, Semper Femina, is a layered masterpiece that serves to further bolster her prolific body of work. Here, she works to subvert the male gaze, just as she did in an interview-based podcast exploring women’s experiences in the arts called Reversal of the Muse. Only, on Semper Femina, she does so by taking up the perspective often employed by men in artistic traditions — that is, by admiring and lusting after the women who serve as the album’s centerpiece. But that’s not to say that the album lacks introspection. The collection is just as much an effort for Marling to tap into her core self, as it is an exploration of how women are viewed and portrayed in society. Sonically, Marling’s signature fingerpicking and warm vocals remain, but this collection of songs reflects a marked growth from her previous output. By playing with percussion and making use of space, Marling gives her ideas room to breathe and expand. Whether through bits of spoken word on “Wild Once” or elegant falsetto on the album’s standout “Always This Way,” each song beckons you closer and is imparted like a secret that you’re lucky to be in on. — DM

Most Likely to Soothe and Summon the Spirit of George Jones: Lee Ann Womack, The Lonely, the Lonesome, & the Gone

Lee Ann Womack could win awards for her song selection alone: Throughout the course of her career, she’s sniffed out some of the finest scribes in country music and put tracks by Brent Cobb and Chris Stapleton on her records far before the rest of the world caught on to their powers. Like Linda Ronstadt and George Strait, it was the potent combination of her legendary vocal abilities and her nose for talent that left us with jewels like her 2000 hit, “I Hope You Dance.” Which is why it was surprising to see her own name listed in the credits more than ever on The Lonely, the Lonesome, & the Gone, a personal progression of a record that proves her pen is as mighty as her vocal sword. There’s a touch of mystery and melancholy across the songs of The Lonely, the Lonesome, & the Gone — from the gorgeous balladry of the title track to the simple plucks of “End of the End of the World” where Womack’s twang churns out on glorious full display. Produced by her husband, Frank Liddell, and recorded at Houston’s Sugar Hill Studios, the album lets Womack walk through classics old (a version of “Long Black Veil,” made iconic by Lefty Frizell, that is most welcome) and new (the album opener “All the Trouble,” which is a moody, gospel tour through her stunning range). It’s thrilling to see an artist this deep into her career prove that she still has treasure trove of surprises up her sleeve. — MM

Most Likely to Have Hats Actually Made in the USA: Margo Price, All American Made

On her debut LP, Midwest Farmer’s Daughter, East Nashville’s Margo Price became one of country and Americana’s breakout stars with her honest-to-the-core songwriting that was never afraid of being uncomfortable. She spoke of devastating loss, disappointment, and being done wrong in one of the most revealing, personal albums in years. For her follow-up, All American Made, Price looks outward, surveying the world outside her tour bus window to tackle everything from wage inequality to the plight of rural America, brazenly using her voice to drive conversation in an increasingly perilous political environment. “No one moves away with no money. They just do what they can,” she sings on “Heart of America.” “To live in the heart of America, getting by on their own two hands.” Recorded at Sam Phillips in Memphis, Price weaves everything from gospel to R&B and honky-tonk into the songs, often co-written with her husband Jeremy Ivey, coming out with an album that captures the urgency of late ’60s protest anthems but with heaps of Tennessee soul. With one stellar duet partner, Willie Nelson, on “Learning to Lose” and help from the McCrary Sisters, Price bends and twists the shape of the genre into her own rock band-rooted form, centered around a dynamite set of pipes that can belt, howl, and softly whisper through whatever lies ahead of her. “Wild women don’t worry,” she sings … and Price doesn’t. Like Woody Guthrie, she’s a prophet of the people, not the establishment. — MM


Best Call to Order, Not Arms: Mavis Staples, If All I Was Was Black

Who could’ve known that pairing gospel/soul legend Mavis Staples with alt-country anchor Jeff Tweedy would be darn near perfect? On If All I Was Was Black, Tweedy’s production provides a wonderful warmth and gorgeous grit to match Mavis’s iconic voice. While last year’s Livin’ on a High Note showed Mavis off in all her feisty, funky glory, If All I Was Was Black turns that down a notch to make room for a more heart-centered approach. After all she’s witnessed in her life, Mavis somehow manages to hold fast to hope and continue pleading for peace. If she’s angry about the two-steps-forward-three-steps-back phenomenon currently overtaking the world, you would never know it from listening to her records. Now, that’s not to say Mavis doesn’t see the problems we face. She does. She always has. It’s just that she would prefer we muster all the love we possibly can, and use that to fuel our fire rather than rage. The compassion and patience embedded within “We Go High” — sparked by Michelle Obama’s comment of “When they go low, we go high” — is almost unimaginable in light of the utter cruelty and devastation being heaped upon marginalized populations in 2017. But there it is. Songs like “No Time for Crying” and “Build a Bridge” also lay it out in the clearest of terms. And, with the title track, she calls out the problem of judging people by their skin and not their hearts, as doing so causes us to miss the beauty and goodness that each of us has to offer. All through this album, Mavis implores us to let our better angels be our guides. What she may not understand is that she, herself, is our better angel. — KMc

Most Likely to Carry around a Battered Copy of My Side of the Mountain: Mipso, Coming Down the Mountain

Mipso find themselves at a moment in their lifespan when a rootsy band discovers that a bluegrass-driven aesthetic is no longer quite enough to channel all of their creativity and curiosity. (See: Nickel Creek, Sierra Hull, Mandolin Orange, etc.) But as they fully incorporate drums, electric bass, and guitar into their sound, they aren’t walking directly away from the North Carolinian acoustic traditions that have informed them all the way. This refining of their folk-rooted, definitively Americana sound refutes the idea that doing so means relinquishing the raw authenticity of bluegrass and old-time, by default. On the contrary, Mipso’s finesse allows the more subtle aspects of their constituent influences to shine through on Coming Down the Mountain, undaunted by the “electric” embellishments. The title track epitomizes this down-to-earth sheen with tales of fishing, disdain for the fools of the city, and pictures of rhododendron thickets in the mountain hollers, all dressed up in dreamy, effervescent duds. There’s honky-tonking, California vibes, train whimsy, sad ballads, haunting alt-folk, and much more woven into this record and these songs. With the love and care they’ve invested in its creation, it hits you like a beautiful kaleidoscope, rather than the dull brown of every color of paint combined willy-nilly. If the current commodification of “roots” music has sent you running for the hills, looking for a refuge and a respite, Coming Down the Mountain might just compel you to hang up your fishing pole for a while and come back to the city, even if for only 10 songs. — JH

Best Reminder to Bake Right with Hot Rise: Molly Tuttle, Rise

On the surface, it feels like 2017 was Molly Tuttle’s breakout year. In a matter of months, she went from releasing her debut LP, Rise, to winning the International Bluegrass Music Association’s Guitar Player of the Year award — becoming the first woman in the organization’s history to ever receive the honor. But her poetic, evocative lyrics and her confident, firecracker flatpicking are unmistakable markers of what really has been a life-long career. The firm foundation laid by growing up in bluegrass, performing and touring from a young age, shines through each and every track on the record, assuaging the fears of would-be naysayers who could find the occurrences of lap steel, full drum kit, or electric guitar to be bluegrass disqualifiers. Her haunting vocals, at once ethereal and authoritative, are utterly confident, each artistic choice precise without falling into measured sterility. The distinct voice of Rise — whether emanating from Tuttle’s lips or her pick and strings — isn’t first-timer’s luck; it’s the product of a lifetime of work and expertly honed talent that is simply, at long last, reaching the ears of a broader audience. And, where other burgeoning artists may falter in their first few projects, attempting to pinpoint the perfect vehicle for their artistic personalities, we can sense, feel, and hear that no matter which stylistic direction she may take in the future, we will all be watching Molly Tuttle rise, unencumbered and unwavering. — JH

Most Heartfelt Look at the Heartland: Natalie Hemby, Puxico

Sometimes records sound exactly like you want them to: The songs, the singer, the production … everything just fits and flows. That’s Natalie Hemby‘s Puxico. Equal parts front-porch folk and heartland rock, this album was inspired by the small Missouri town where Hemby spent her childhood summers fishing with her grandpa George and dancing at the annual Homecoming. And it’s infused with the songwriting skill of Nashville where Hemby honed her craft writing cuts for Miranda Lambert, Lee Ann Womack, Maren Morris, Johnnyswim, and others. With Puxico, though, Hemby writes closer to home, metaphorically and musically. No commercial country artist like so many of her friends, Hemby is cut from the Sheryl Crow cloth (with some Tom Petty patches, to be sure). Her voice is warm and soulful, powerful and edgy, all at once. And the songs … the SONGS. From “Time Honored Tradition” to “Cairo, IL” to “This Town Still Talks About You,” the songs are rich with remembrances of lives, loves, and losses. Hemby’s deep, deep fondness for the people and places of her youth is filtered through the lens of time and distance, allowing her to trace the edges of what was and overlay that image upon what still is. The space between the two is where these songs live. — KMc

Best “Year of the Banjo” Brand Ambassador: Noam Pikelny, Universal Favorite

Punch Brothers’ co-founder Noam Pikelny takes “solo record” to another level, playing every instrument on his fourth LP, Universal Favorite. He even sets down the banjo a few times to try his hand at electric guitar — turns out he’s ridiculously good at everything he touches. And would you believe it … he can sing, too! Pikelny’s PB bandmate and frequent producer Gabe Witcher keeps a tight rein on the record’s crystal clear sound, but gives his friend plenty of room to explore and expand his musical horizons. While the songs range from trad/old-time to classical sounds, and include covers from the likes of Elliot Smith (“Bye”), Josh Ritter (“Folk Bloodbath”), Roger Miller (“I’ve Been a Long Time Leavin’ (But I’ll Be a Long Time Gone)”), amongst others, the virtuosic solitude that pervades this fully unaccompanied project allows the whole thing to feel cohesive, complete, and brilliant. — Amy Reitnouer

Most Likely to Not Give Any Fucks: Rachel Baiman, Shame

With the co-founding of Folk Fights Back in Nashville and the release of her second solo album, Rachel Baiman has earned a reputation as a radicalized bluegrass player, although neither of those labels is exactly apt. Her background is in bluegrass, and she’s a dexterous and sensitive fiddler, but that particular musical style is merely a foundation on which she builds songs informed by pop and folk and country, by Gillian Welch and John Hartford and Phil Ochs. And she barely even plays the fiddle on here, instead switching between banjo and acoustic guitar. As for politics, she tackles that topic only because she recognizes that it’s unavoidable. Being a woman and being an artist have become fundamentally radical activity in late-2010s America, which means Baiman is simply following Woody Guthrie’s old adage: “All you can write is what you know.” She knows touring, for instance, and turns that into the rousing “Never Tire of the Road.” She knows about writing songs and writes a song about writing songs, the sing-along “Getting Ready to Start (Getting Ready).” And she knows about old white men using religion as a bludgeon, and she not only makes that the central idea of the title track, but delivers the chorus with a steely defiance: “They wanna bring me shame. Well, there ain’t no shame.” On Shame, she sounds like the voice we need to hear right now, in roots or any other genre. — SD

Most Likely To Break Free: Ryan Adams, Prisoner

A case can be made that love and sex are the backbone of music, so it naturally follows that the other side of the coin carries equal weight. For every song written about relationships or lust, there’s one about the counter moment when everything comes crashing down. Ryan Adams is one of those artists who’s no stranger to the nuances of dissolution. After all, the North Carolina singer/songwriter made his solo debut outside of Whiskeytown in 2000 with a sweeping masterpiece dubbed Heartbreaker. Widely regarded as his best work, Heartbreaker received a deluxe reissue last year while this year saw the release of a companion album of sorts in Prisoner. Written as a means of salvation during Adams’ highly publicized divorce from actress/singer Mandy Moore, Prisoner is a foray into loneliness that embraces the post-breakup fallout headfirst. The mid-album stunner, “To Be Without You,” is a portrait of perfect songwriting that smoothly unfurls amidst lines like “It’s so hard not to call you. Thunder’s in my bones out in the streets where I first saw you. When everything was new and colorful, it’s gotten darker.” That just stings with familiarity. Elsewhere, “Broken Anyway” is a mature attempt at shaking off  the remains: “What was whatever it became? Whatever, we will still be together in some way. It was broken anyway,” sung by a narrator who acknowledges the pains of both inflicting and falling victim to heartbreak. Crafted with Adams’ penchant for the sonic flair of the ‘80s, Prisoner toils in the confines of human emotion and comes out triumphantly on the other side. — DM

Best Trip through the Bluegrass State’s Bardo: Tyler Childers, Purgatory

It can be difficult to stand up to Kentucky’s esteemed history of songwriters and performers — which includes everyone from the legendary Bill Monroe to Sturgill Simpson — but Tyler Childers lives up the legacy of his home state with as keen an eye for its past as for its future. On Purgatory, produced by Simpson and one-time Johnny Cash engineer David Ferguson, Childers emerges with a voice that can cut with the innocence of a child but the knowledge of an aged man and an eye for painting stories of people shaping their identities in small towns and searching for love amongst the ruins. In Childers’ hands, modern roots music can meld into some rock ‘n’ roll fury (“Whitehouse Road,” “Universal Sound”) or striking, chill-inducing romantic opuses like “Lady May,” always centered on those spectacular vocals and an uncannily creative lyrical sense: When he sings “get me higher than the grocery bill” on “Whitehouse Road,” he manages to rouse images of intoxication and the desolation of a segment of America where a simple trip to the grocery store can be a financial burden. Melding the bluegrass roots of his home state with Simpson’s abandonment of genre altogether, Purgatory is a coming of age record for everyone grasping at the space between shelter and freedom, between freedom and commitment to another, between commitment and the fragile promise of eternal love. — MM

Best Musical Evidence That Black Girl Magic Is Real: Valerie June, The Order of Time

Valerie June is an other-worldly artist with a seemingly cosmic connection to her muse. Her songs are full of whimsy, wonder, and wisdom, all grounded in a garden of earthly musical delights. Blues, folk, gospel, soul, country, and more all sneak into June’s work, colliding in a kaleidoscope of sounds and colors. Sputtering guitars bump into stuttering keys on one song, while ethereal strings ebb under ambient steel on another. Harmonium and horns?! Hell yeah. African rhythms and clawhammer banjo?! Ya damn right! She’s from the melting pot of music — Memphis, Tennessee — after all. Nobody else is making music like this. Listening to June’s records feels almost intrusive, as if peering into a private diary filled with poems and doodles that betray the artist’s inner world in its utterly pure, stream of consciousness form. Except that The Order of Time is more refined and restrained than that. Such is this album’s perfection, that it would be a fool’s errand to attempt choosing standout tracks. The booty groove of “Shakedown” or the gentle drone of “If And”? The mystical dance of “Astral Plane” or the bluesy sway of “Love You Once Made”? Not even Sophie could make that choice. Nor should she — or we — ever have to. — KMc

Best Open Diary: The Weather Station, The Weather Station

If other songwriters fight to fit their words within a song’s measure, Tamara Lindeman takes the opposite tactic as the Weather Station. Her verbose songs are chock full of words — their inflections adding rhythmic scope, their syntax unraveling deeply personal confessions. “I don’t know what to say, so I say too much,” she sings on “I Don’t Know What to Say.” Somehow, though, Lindeman keeps her music from feeling overcrowded. Her vocal cadence works in tandem with rhythm guitar (as on “Thirty”) or drums (as on “Complicit”) to reinforce a singular meter rather than stuff each song to the brim. With her self-titled album, she told the BGS that she focused on “figur[ing] out how to be okay when things are not okay.” A central relationship thrums at the album’s center, filling her with all manner of declarations. Lindeman is, at turns, self-deprecating (“My love is the heaviest thing” on “Keep It All to Myself”), regretful (“We never figured out the questions” on “You and I”), and adamant (“I guess I always wanted the impossible” on “Impossible”). But the album’s most devastating addition takes place at the close with “The Most Dangerous Thing About You.” It’s quiet for an album charging forward, either lyrically or rhythmically, and focuses on the aftermath of what she has spent the previous 10 tracks parsing out. For all the communicating Lindeman does on The Weather Station, words don’t offer a magical resolution, but there’s something fiercely beautiful about the effort to keep searching. — AW

Anderson East, ‘King for a Day’

Writing alone and working in artistic isolation can breed a particular kind of creative output — one often praised above all else. But collaboration has been at the heart of so much of music’s inherent culture, even as we try to elevate and honor the solo songwriter and take down what feels like Music Row’s cult of committee. Short of “super groups,” we don’t often stop to recognize moments of harmony where two (or more) great minds come together and breed something even better. We should. There’s magic in that meld.

Anderson East, one of Nashville’s most soulful voices, is a believer in the art of the partnership — in both his personal life and his creative one. And “King for a Day,” the newest offering from his forthcoming sophomore LP, Encore, is that synergy at its best. Written with country legend-in-the-making Chris Stapleton and Chris’s wife and powerhouse vocalist in her own right, Morgane, it’s an ode to vulnerability and the payoff that comes from letting your heart beat alongside another, even if it ends up broken. With East’s signature rasp and some booming horns, it’s a fine taste of Motown-in-the-South that feels even sweeter with that Stapleton swagger. “I’d rather be king for a day than a fool forever,” East sings. However that romance ends up, the partnership that made this music come to life will always have been a wise choice.

Best of: NPR’s Tiny Desk Concerts

Back in 2008, NPR’s All Songs Considered host Bob Boilen and NPR Music producer Stephen Thompson went to see Portland-based singer/songwriter Laura Gibson at a bar in Austin, Texas. They left feeling frustrated after being unable to hear Gibson’s delicate sound over the roar of the bar-goers. But they also had a novel idea: Why not host a concert in the comfort of their own office, where the music could be center stage? So began Tiny Desk Concerts, and we at the BGS couldn’t be happier to have a multitude of noteworthy performances of all different genres at our fingertips!

After combing through the Tiny Desk archives — and getting sidetracked time and time again along the way — we’ve picked out five must-see concerts for your viewing pleasure.

Julien Baker

We can’t get enough of Memphis native Julien Baker’s raw lyricism and delicate delivery. There’s something truly magical about the way her minimalistic yet cutting electric guitar parts reverberate around a room, and that voice just gives us goosebumps.

Chris Thile and Michael Daves

Chris Thile is no stranger to Tiny Desk, and while his performances with Nickel Creek, Punch Brothers, and Yo-Yo Ma, Edgar Meyer, and Stuart Duncan all showcase his musical genius and energetic stage presence (we wonder if anyone has more fun performing than him), this concert with Michael Daves is our favorite by far.

Andrew Bird

If Andrew Bird’s signature whistling and violin pizzicato doesn’t pique your interest, we’re not sure what will! This set consists of three songs off of Bird’s 2016 album, Are You Serious. If anyone has any tips on how to play the violin and sing at the same time, please let us know! We are still baffled by how easy Bird makes it look.

Chris Stapleton

Between the raspy voice and rugged cowboy looks, Chris Stapleton epitomizes the country rocker. Joined by wife and fellow singer/songwriter Morgane, Stapleton’s calm, cool, collected manner and remarkable songwriting abilities are unmistakably awe-inspiring in the intimate setting of Tiny Desk. It’s no wonder so many country artists have been clamoring to sing his songs all these years.

Gaelynn Lea

It’s not hard to figure out why violinist, folk singer, and disability rights advocate Gaelynn Lea was chosen as the winner of the Tiny Desk Contest from an entrant pool of over 6,000 unsigned artists back in 2016. The combination of her classical and Celtic-folk roots — along with her use of a loop pedal and unique voice — makes her an obvious stand out. Even better, the Tiny Desk format allowed Lea’s endearing personality and humor to shine through.

The Producers: Dave Cobb

Dave Cobb is the man with the Midas touch. Since the Savannah-born guitarist/producer started working his magic in the studio more than 10 years ago, he’s produced some of the very best Americana records of the decade, including Sturgill Simpson’s High Top Mountain and Metamodern Sounds in Country Music, Chris Stapleton’s Traveller, and both of the brilliant solo recordings from America’s best songwriter, Jason Isbell. Cobb took time out from a session at his home studio in Nashville to speak with the BGS for the first in our series of interviews with producers about making records.

Dave Cobb: What’s happening?

Michael Verity: Not much. I have you down on my calendar for a chat.

Yeah, I remember, man. I’m a big fan of the Bluegrass Situation. You guys do some awesome shit.

Aw, thank you, man. We feel the same way about you!

You guys are one of the only real publications out there. It’s awesome, man.

Thank you! That’s always nice to hear. So, ever since I was a pup and I looked at the back of my first record album, which which was Bridge Over Troubled Water 

… oh, wow.

… and saw "Produced by Roy Halee" …

… one of my heroes …

… I’ve been fascinated by record producers. And then I read that Bridge Over Troubled Water was a template of sorts for Jason Isbell’s Southeastern.

Absolutely. I’m a huge fan of Roy. He’s kind of it for me. And yeah, about Southeastern: We met about two weeks before we recorded and it was hilarious because all I did was talk to him for a second then go, "Let me play you a record." And I played “The Only Living Boy in New York.”

That’s one of my favorite songs of all time. I think it’s one of the most brilliant productions ever. I pointed out that when you think of Simon and Garfunkel, you think of acoustic guitar. You never think of a band or of production. But, if you listen to that record, it’s so badass. They’re singing in cathedrals, there are loops going on. The kitchen sink’s on that record — harpsichords and bells — but it still feels like an acoustic record. And that was the template for Southeastern … to make a record that feels acoustic but not be purely acoustic. It’s awesome that you pointed that record out because it was absolutely the template. [Laughs] Even though Southeastern sounds nothing like it.

Sonically, Bridge Over Troubled Water really summarized much of what was created by the Byrds, the Beatles, and the Beach Boys, and then took it to the next logical step. And opened the door for the kind of productions Gus Dudgeon did with Elton John, for example.

Absolutely. I love those records, too. Tumbleweed Connection is one of my favorite records of all time, as well. You’re absolutely right. Man, you know your stuff.

In my opinion, “Cover Me Up” is one of the best Americana songs to have been recorded in the last 20 years.

Oh, wow.

If I were to put it under a microscope, how many of your fingerprints would I find on that song, do you think?

I had read about the recording of “Mrs. Robinson.” They said the guys recorded that song minus the band and then, after they got the track, they added the band — the Wrecking Crew guys — and that’s why the song feels so good … and moves. So I thought, "I don’t want to influence Jason at all. I don’t want anybody influencing his timing. I don’t want anybody influencing his ebbs and flows, his getting loud and getting quiet."

We were recording at this little tiny studio in the back of my house and it’s a little bit small, a little bit confined. We wanted him to be able to stretch out. So we ran lines into the house and put him in the kitchen, where’s he’s looking out over Nashville. There's nobody else around; he’s in the house completely alone and we’re down in the studio, listening.

So we had him record the song — as well as two or three other songs on that record — completely by himself, acoustic. After we got the track, we added the slide and the Mellotron and the bridge, things like that. 

It’s very simple and it’s supposed to be simple. I think, normally, when people try to record that kind of thing, they get everybody together, and they have a click track. They’re trying to get a really great take and then comp it to go. “Cover Me Up” is a pure performance, a one-take track with just a little bit of sweetening, which was my contribution.

With a Mellotron. Which was an Elton John instrument, right?

I think a lot of people used it. The Beatles used it. The Bee Gees. Back in the day, if you couldn’t afford strings, you got a Mellotron. I think it’s a wonderful instrument and a great way to create some atmosphere. We keep coming back to the same record, but on Bridge Over Troubled Water, there are strings and all kinds of stuff — like the Mellotron. It's an affordable way to get ahold of a glockenspiel or a marimba or whatever crazy instruments you can think of.

The funny thing about “Mrs. Robinson,” as you tell the story about adding the band afterward, is that Paul Simon supposedly didn’t even know they did that. He had gone off to Europe and, when he landed back in New York, he heard it on the radio and was like, "What the hell?"

He probably smiled all the way to the bank on that one.

Not to overstate the whole Bridge Over Troubled Water thing, but on the new Jason record, you can kind of draw some dotted lines between the two albums … the reverb on the drums on “Children of Children,” for example.

Oh, for sure. It’s old chambers — like the echo chamber at Sound Emporium, the studio that Cowboy Jack Clement built back in the '60s. It’s a really beautiful sound; you really can’t fake that. On “Bridge Over Troubled Water,” they were using an elevator shaft.

I know, right? Isn’t that cool? I was looking at the video about the making of [Isbell’s] “24 Frames.” Was your input as we saw it in that video indicative of how you work with musicians?

Yeah. When I go into the studio, I’m kind of the "fifth member." I like to be in the room with the artist and have an instrument on, whether I play on the record or not. It’s a tool to speak the language, to suggest melodic ideas, and push and influence the tempo and the like.

There’s a guy, Jimmy Miller, one of my favorite producers ever, who produced the best Stones stuff — from Let It Bleed to Exile [On Main Street]. The Stones really found their swagger with him. He’d get out there and play percussion or drums or whatever it took to get the groove. I think I kind of do that, as well, whether I have an acoustic guitar on or play percussion or whatever. I try to guide like that, without using clicks.

And with Jason, he’s really open and always very cool. He always has the songs; the songs are done because he’s an unbelievable writer. But with the little themes, the beginnings and ends and bridges, he’s always welcoming to ideas. We always have fun.

“The Life You Chose” and “Hudson Commodore” are my favorites on that album. The things I love about “The Life You Chose” are the idea of being “lucky” by losing three fingers — what delicious irony. And, right as he sings that line, there’s a cello that sneaks into the mix. It just floored me. I thought, “Dude, that is IT.”

Thanks, man. He always let’s me mess around and I love orchestrating. That’s the Mellotron again. That’s not even a real cello. The Mellotron lets me conduct a symphony in my own little studio.

Lindi Ortega did something cool — she recorded a little in Muscle Shoals, did a few tunes with another one of my favorite producers of all time, Colin Linden, and then tracked three of cuts with you. And it’s easy to tell which ones are yours. Just rock 'n' roll, baby. Did you have fun with that?

I love Lindi. I did her previous record, and I think she is such an amazing talent. Every time we work together, those vocals are live. Her songs are pure performance and we were just trying to capture lightning in a bottle. She’s so exuberant and alive and fun to work with … dancing while she sings, jumping around. I think you feel that on tape.

My other favorite you’ve done is Chris Stapleton’s Traveller which is a whole lot different than Lindi and Jason. To me, it has a much more glossy, rock 'n' roll sound. Should I trust my ears on that one?

Yeah. The guy who who engineered and mixed it was Vance Powell, a tremendous talent who did all the Third Man stuff, like Jack White’s records. We wanted a real simple, pure thing; that was driven by Chris. I love strings and stuff like that, but Chris was like, “Nah, no keyboards.” I think there’s like one hit of piano somewhere on the record.

But the way we did it was a really good idea. That guy's such an insane singer so we didn't want to let anything get in the way of the vocal. And he’s a phenomenal acoustic guitar player so we tracked it with him, a bass guitar, and drums, me on acoustic guitar, and his wife on harmonies. That’s pretty much what you hear, other than a few solo overdubs.

We had the privilege on working in RCA Studio A for much of that record and we had a blast. We’d show up at noon and goof around and talk and maybe order some food, talk over some drinks. We didn’t track until maybe 8 o’clock at night but, when we did, we’d get two or three masters. That’s what you hear on the record. It was such a fun session and a real lesson in recording when you’re inspired — not recording because you have a deadline. The label was great. They really let us stretch out. They were really supportive about it all, about having everybody in a good mood.

We talked a little about Jimmy Miller. Now let’s talk about Glyn Johns.

Glyn is my favorite engineer of all time. One of my favorite producers. His records were so hi-fi and beautiful. I think he made a great record with Ryan Adams with Ashes and Fire. I hear that record it makes me want to give up. I think I’m kind of a fake engineer. I work on the records, but I’m more of a songwriter kind of producer. His albums sound like music to me: guitar amps sound like guitar amps, singers sound like they're singing to you. I’m heavily influenced by him, especially by his rock 'n' roll records.

A good place to ask this question: Do you play with Europe? As in “The Final Countdown” Europe?

No, I don’t play with them. I produced their last album. I don’t play in the band Europe, no. [Laughs]

I was a little confused by that one.

Every once in awhile, I’ll jump on stage and play with them. When I was a kid, I used to play along with that stuff. Everybody did in the '80s.

The way that happened was, I produced this band called Rival Sons — they’re more of a traditional rock band. They do really well overseas, and the guys from Europe heard the record and called me about a year-and-a-half ago, asking me about working together. They called me thinking I’d be too cool to work with them, but I was really excited about it. I went over to Stockholm and we made a record that was awesome. It sounds like Black Sabbath or something. It was a lot of fun. We’re going to make another record again. They’re really good guys.

Has production always been in the back of your mind, even while you were in your own band … well before you did your first record with Shooter Jennings 10 years ago and started making a name for yourself?

I always wanted to be in a band and get a record deal and do it as a career. And my band did get signed and did a lot of heavy touring. But we signed a bad deal and got stuck, and if I recorded anything new with the band, it would go directly to the label that we hated. So that’s when I started taking production seriously. I’d met my wife by this time and I was ready to stop touring. I enjoyed playing shows and enjoyed recording records but I hated the road.

And I think when I was in bands, I used to drive everybody crazy trying to tell them what to play. Maybe I was douchier back then and production was a logical thing to do — start being a producer so people would actually start listening to you.

You've found your natural space.

Being a producer is like getting to be in a different band all the time. It’s a lot of fun. When you first join a band, it’s the most romantic thing. Then, after two or three years, you start hating each other. Being a producer, I get the first date kind of feeling all the time.

Hey, CMA Awards, Your Roots Are Showing

The election may currently loom large over America like a toupée-shaped storm cloud, but yesterday, there was one rumor floating around that managed to cut through the noise: Beyoncé might perform at the CMA Awards. Speculation swirled around Nashville and online before it was officially announced late Wednesday afternoon that Queen Bey would, in fact, make an appearance, though details leading up to the show were limited. It was a curious phenomenon, as the bulk of the chatter surrounding “Country Music’s Biggest Night” (ABC’s words, not ours) surrounded an artist outside the genre. In many ways, though, it was a harbinger of what the rest of the evening would bring.

Broadcast live from Nashville’s Bridgestone Arena, the CMA Awards are part awards show, part concert, part ABC product-placement opportunity, helmed since 2008 by country stars Brad Paisley and Carrie Underwood. This year was a special one, as the show celebrated its 50th anniversary and grappled, on stage, with the stark contrast between what 1967’s country, which honored Eddy Arnold with the first-ever Entertainer of the Year trophy, and that of today (Luke Bryan took home that same award last year) look like. The show opened with a medley of classic country songs performed by the genre’s patriarchs and matriarchs: Vince Gill honored Merle Haggard’s “Mama Tried”; Roy Clark and Brad Paisley paid tribute to Buck Owens with "I've Got a Tiger by the Tail."

Many of the other artists involved — including Reba, Charlie Daniels, and Dwight Yoakam — performed their own songs. As iconic artists sang tributes to themselves, you had to wonder: Are there not current artists suited to paying tribute? And while, yes, there are — two notable CMA snubs, Margo Price and Brandy Clark, come to mind — the medley opened the show on a dissonant note. Today’s commercial country is not the country of Hank Williams or Merle Haggard. It's the country of Luke Bryan, whose teeth far outshine his mediocre vocals, and of Florida Georgia Line, a wildly popular duo who, while certainly writing some catchy songs, are more in line with Top 40 than anything with a real twang.

Many of the evening's low points, like an entirely forgettable performance from Bryan of "Move," came from the new guard. Of course, there are still plenty of up-and-comers keeping the genre vital. Maren Morris, who rightfully won New Artist of the Year, delivered one of the best performances of the evening when she brought out the McCrary Sisters and the Preservation Hall Jazz Band for a show-stopping take on "My Church." It was also a crossover moment that would fall in line with some of the show's other standout performances.

And it wouldn’t be the CMA Awards without a true pop/country crossover performance, the best of which (like last year’s from Chris Stapleton and Justin Timberlake) make up for those that just feel forced. (I know Pentatonix recorded “Jolene” with Dolly Parton, but come on, is that really the best you can do, CMA?) Last night, however, we saw a performance — made all the more urgent by both the day’s rumor mill and the show’s constant promotion of it — that felt less like a crossover and more like the coming together of two kindred artistic spirits: Beyoncé and the Dixie Chicks teaming up for the Lemonade track “Daddy Lessons.”

While it may sound like an unusual pairing on paper, the Dixie Chicks performed the rootsy Beyoncé number, which has been at the center of a debate about what songs can and cannot be called “country,” on their DCX MMXVI world tour this year. More importantly, however, it IS a country song. While Twitter may have been ablaze with cries of, “That’s not country,” you’d be remiss not to consider country’s black roots which run very, very deep. It’s no surprise, then, that the performance, which included a brief interlude of the Chicks’ version of Darrell Scott’s "Long Time Gone,” felt natural, important, and necessary. 

And that’s where this show had its moments that truly shone: when country got to show its roots. Another standout moment occurred when Eric Church brought Rhiannon Giddens on stage to perform "Kill a Word," an anti-hate anthem off his Album of the Year-winning 2015 release Mr. Misunderstood. Paired with Dwight Yoakam and Chris Stapleton's joint tribute to Ray Charles, one had to wonder if CMA was hoping to get a little of Americana's Midas touch for themselves. 

All three of those performances, while honoring the genre's roots, also celebrated, some subtly and some not-so, diversity and inclusion. (Although it should be noted that, while both Yoakam and Stapleton are fantastic singers, it would have been nice to have an artist of color honoring Charles.) Tim McGraw's performance of "Humble and Kind," a Lori McKenna-penned tune that earned her a Song of the Year win, was a nice moment celebrating love in all its shapes and shades, one that felt all the more poignant in this last week of a particularly hateful election season. The show's presentation of Dolly Parton with the Willie Nelson Lifetime Achievement Award featured a who's-who of women in country, all coming together to honor an artist who embodies the spirit of kindness and inclusion better than perhaps anyone else.

Given the common threads running through the night's high points, it's fitting that Garth Brooks took home the night’s biggest honor, Entertainer of the Year. Over the course of his unprecedented career, he's carved out a space for himself that makes room for country traditions, modern pop sensibilities, and, perhaps most strikingly, unabashed progressivism. (You'll remember Brooks won a GLAAD Award way back in 1993 for his way-ahead-of-its-time-for-a-country-song tune "We Shall Be Free.") While some might consider his success to be in spite of that unique position, it’s more likely because of it. And this year’s CMA Awards show, in its best moments, seemed to be following his lead. 

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MIXTAPE: 3rd & Lindsley

For music venues in Music City, the competition for both artists and audiences is stiff. But Ron Brice and his 3rd & Lindsley crew — which includes the same door man, head chef, and sound engineer since the club's opening — have made a successful go of it for the past 25 years. Along the way, they've enjoyed a weekly residency with the Time Jumpers (featuring Vince Gill), a 20-year partnership of weekly broadcasts on WRLT-FM, a talent buyer (Santo Pullella) whose first confirmed act was Chris Stapleton, and a calendar filled with legends — and legends in the making.

Here, Pullella selects some of the artists the club is proud to have hosted: 

The Wood Brothers — “Postcards From Hell”
Chris and Oliver Wood blew us all away with their 2006 debut album, Ways Not to Lose, and a performance at 3rd & Lindsley. Now, they’re an international success and one of the world’s best bands.

Sturgill Simpson — “Brace for Impact (Live a Little)”
Sturgill’s name and music had been on our radar, but when he opened for the Devil Makes Three in 2013 on a cold January Lightning 100 Nashville Sunday Night, it looked like the world would know him soon.

The Devil Makes Three — “Do Wrong Right”
We think about whiskey and dark places when we hear this band, and seeing them live is only a real good time.

Nikki Lane — “Seein’ Double”
She is living proof that it is "always the right time to do the wrong thing," and it really works for her! She’s just cool with always being herself — and that’s a unique woman.

Chris Stapleton — “Might as Well Get Stoned”
Chris is a man who worked so hard for so many years in Nashville until it all seemed to tip in his favor, all at once. We’re really happy for him … and even proud.

Lucinda Williams — “Can’t Let Go”
The legendary songwriter has no fear of digging deep into herself and showing it to the world.

Ray Wylie Hubbard — “Mother Blues”
Ray, the National Treasure! Storytellers do not get any better than Ray.

Paul Thorn — “Pimps & Preachers”
Paul is a part of the family here at 3rd & Lindsley. He walks in and its non-stop one-liner jokes and stories until the night is done. Killer band, killer show.

The Mavericks — “All Night Long”
When these guys got back together a few years ago, it was like a legendary athlete showing up at halftime, telling the coach he’s going in, and then taking over. And none can make their sound.

Sam Lewis — “3/4 Time”
We’ve been watching him for the past year, and he’s someone everyone should be watching with his style of blue-eyed country soul. There’s some Van Morrison, James Taylor, and a whole lot of Sam Lewis here! He’s doing a lot of dates this year with Chris Stapleton. The future is very bright for him.

Lake Street Dive — “Call Off Your Dogs”
We’re very happy for Rachael Price and the band. Many, many years of hard work is paying off.

Margo Price — “Hands of Time”
Another artist we’re so proud to see achieving what they deserve. Her two-night run this June sold out fast, and it doesn’t appear there is a limit to her success.


Lede photo: Lee Ann Womack performs during the 16th Annual Americana Music Festival & Conference at 3rd & Lindsley on September 18, 2015 . Photo credit: Terry Wyatt/Getty Images for Americana Music.

If I Were a Grammy Award and You Were a Record (Op-ed)

Now that we have the Americana Music Association and International Bluegrass Music Association awards in the rearview mirror, it's time to look forward — or not — to the Country Music Association awards in November and the Grammys in February.

Because all of the programs have different qualifying timelines, the potential nominees fall in strange places. For instance, Jason Isbell just nabbed two AMAs (Album and Song of the Year) for a record that came out 15 months ago. And Chris Stapleton, who was the 2016 AMA Artist of the Year, is up for another round of CMAs even though his record came out even longer ago than that.

What to say? It's a weird world.

But I do have a couple bones to pick about it all.

Now, I thought Traveller was a good record with solid tunes and Stapleton was a nice guy with an amazing voice before I knew he was pals with Justin Timberlake and before he was firing up the charts. It's great to see his brave and bold video for “Fire Away,” which addresses mental health issues, get a nod and even more wonderful to see his incredibly talented wife, Morgane, get a hat tip for their devastating version of “You Are My Sunshine” off the Dave Cobb-produced Southern Family LP. No problems there. Show 'em how it's done, Stapletons.

I also adored Lori McKenna's songs — though slightly less so when Tim McGraw sings them — long before Faith Hill found her, so I'm thrilled with all of her success and acclaim. There's not a more deserving soul around, as she actually embodies the virtues laid forth in “Humble and Kind,” which is nominated for both CMA Song and Single of the Year. Go get 'em, McKenna! Maybe next year your fantastic record, The Bird & the Rifle, will get some CMA love. (Even if it doesn't, we'll definitely plan to see you back at the Ryman in September for the AMAs.)

Maren Morris and her big ol' voice did something great with “My Church,” creating one of the only over-played commercial country songs I didn't change the station on as I scanned the radio dial. The rest of the record, though, despite a few good moments, fails to measure up … at least to my roots-loving ears. Still, she got tagged by the CMAs in the Female Vocalist, Song, Single, and Album of the Year categories. That's fine, I guess, since she's the hot new kid on the block.

But here's where it starts to get sticky: Last year's hot new kid, Kacey Musgraves, is an artist I like quite a bit, but she didn't release a record during the July 1, 2015 through June 30, 2016 eligibility window … yet she nabbed a Female Vocalist nomination. Meanwhile, Brandy Clark wrote and sang the crap out of this year's Big Day in a Small Town and got nary a nod. Nothing. Nada. Zero. Zilch. What's up with that, CMA? More than a few critics have cited Clark as the best songwriter working in Nashville, and I probably wouldn't be the first to note that she has proven herself to be an outstanding singer, as well. A tsk-tsk and a slap on the wrist for that huge oversight. I mean … seriously. BRANDY. CLARK.

And then there's Margo Price who is, arguably, the breakout country act of the year. She went home with an AMA for Emerging Artist of the Year, but got the cold country shoulder. She's good enough for SNL, but not CMA? Go figure. In terms of country icons, Emmylou Harris and Rodney Crowell won the AMA Duo/Group of the Year and are also nowhere to be found on the CMA list. And where's Loretta Lynn, who has maybe the countriest country release of 2016? Sitting at home in Hurricane Mills … that's where.

It's safe to say that we, in the Americana/roots music community, are more than happy to embrace all of these country music refugees because it's pretty clear that, while the CMAs may be a barometer for country radio, they certainly don't reflect country music.

Dear Grammy voters, you can — and should — do better. So, looking at the Grammy eligibility window of October 1, 2015 through September 30, 2016, here's how I'd love to see the various album categories fall. (A kid can dream, right?)

BEST AMERICANA ALBUM

Cautionary Tale
Dylan LeBlanc

My Piece of Land
Amanda Shires

Beulah
John Paul White

Ghosts of Highway 20
Lucinda Williams

I Am the Rain
Chely Wright

BEST FOLK ALBUM

Honest Life
Courtney Marie Andrews

The Bird & the Rifle
Lori McKenna

The Very Last Day
Parker Millsap

Young in All the Wrong Ways
Sara Watkins

Undercurrent
Sarah Jarosz

BEST COUNTRY ALBUM

Big Day in a Small Town
Brandy Clark

Full Circle
Loretta Lynn

For the Good Times: A Tribute to Ray Price
Willie Nelson

Midwest Farmer's Daughter
Margo Price

Southern Family
Various Artists


Lede photo of Ted Jensen's Grammy for mastering Norah Jones' 2002 Album of the Year, Come Away with Me, courtesy of Dmileson.

The 2016 Americana Music Awards Winners

The 15th annual Americana Music Association Honors & Awards Show happened last night at Nashville’s famed Ryman Auditorium. Led by host Jim Lauderdale, the festivities honored Bob Weir, Shawn Colvin, Billy Bragg, William Bell, and Lauderdale with Lifetime Achievement Awards.

Each of those recipients also performed, along with Rodney Crowell, Steve Earle, Emmylou Harris, Jason Isbell, Nitty Gritty Dirt Band, Bonnie Raitt, George Strait, Alison Krauss, and quite a many more backed by a Buddy Miller-led house band. Presenters include Jack Ingram, Timothy B. Schmit, Taylor Goldsmith, Wynonna Judd, the Indigo Girls, Bruce Hornsby, and Joe Henry.

Winners are in bold.

Album of the Year
Something More Than Free — Jason Isbell, Produced by Dave Cobb
The Ghosts of Highway 20 — Lucinda Williams, Produced by Greg Leisz, Tom Overby, and Lucinda Williams
The Very Last Day — Parker Millsap, Produced by Parker Millsap and Gary Paczosa
Traveller — Chris Stapleton, Produced by Dave Cobb and Chris Stapleton

Song of the Year
"24 Frames" — Jason Isbell, Written by Jason Isbell
"Dime Store Cowgirl" — Kacey Musgraves, Written by Kacey Musgraves, Luke Laird, and Shane McAnally
"Hands of Time" — Margo Price, Written by Margo Price
"S.O.B." — Nathaniel Rateliff & the Nightsweats, Written by Nathaniel Rateliff

Artist of the Year
Jason Isbell
Bonnie Raitt
Chris Stapleton
Lucinda Williams

Duo/Group of the Year
Alabama Shakes
Emmylou Harris & Rodney Crowell
Lake Street Dive
The Milk Carton Kids
Tedeschi Trucks Band

Emerging Artist of the Year
Leon Bridges
John Moreland
Margo Price
Nathaniel Rateliff & the Night Sweats

Instrumentalist of the Year
Cindy Cashdollar
Stuart Duncan
Jedd Hughes
Sara Watkins

Daddy-O: A Father’s Day Playlist

This Father's Day (June 19), you could do what you always do and buy your pops the same pair of new socks that he doesn't need. Or, you could give dear old dad the gift of music. To get you started, we've pulled together some of our favorite songs about dads, written from both the perspective of fathers and from those of the kids who loved them. If you're feeling generous, pick up an album or two featuring songs from the list. If not, at least send dad a link to the Spotify playlist. Either way, his sock drawer will thank you.

"Daddy Doesn't Pray Anymore" — Chris Stapleton

This tearjerker from Chris Stapleton is served up with a little twist, made all the more heartwrenching by his stellar vocals and somber delivery.

"Daddy Sang Bass" — Johnny Cash

This 1968 tune, written for Cash by Carl Perkins, is a testament to the bonds of both family and music — both of which, in this case, are anchored by dad and his bass.

"Undercover Dad" — Jonny Corndawg (now Jonny Fritz)

A snooping dad must grapple with what he finds in his teenage daughter's diary in this sweet, light-hearted tune from Jonny Corndawg's 2011 Down on the Bikini Line.

"Paradise" — John Prine

A father teaches his son about the perils of mountaintop removal in this classic John Prine tune from his 1971 self-titled debut album. 

"My Father's Father" — the Civil Wars

Ghosts of the past and his "father's father's" blood on the tracks bring a prodigal son home in this song from the now-defunct duo's 2011 debut album, Barton Hollow.

"A Father's First Spring" — the Avett Brothers

One of the most profound statements on an album (The Carpenter) that grapples with bassist Bob Crawford's daughter's battle with brain cancer, "A Father's First Spring" tugs at heartstrings with lines like "I do not live unless I live in your light."

"Coal Miner's Daughter" — Loretta Lynn

"Daddy worked all night in the Van Lear coal mines," and his proud daughter wrote one of the greatest country songs of all time to thank him for that hard work.

"Welcome to Earth (Pollywog)" — Sturgill Simpson

Sturgill Simpson's new album, A Sailor's Guide to Earth, is something of a guidebook for living for his young son, and opening track "Welcome to Earth (Pollywog)" introduces us to "the greatest love [he's] ever known."


Photo credit: CarbonNYC [in SF!] via Foter.com / CC BY.