(Editor’s Note: Welcome to our Reissue series! For the next several weeks, Basic Folk is digging back into the archives and reposting some of our favorite episodes alongside new introductions commenting on what it’s like to listen back. Enjoy!)
Listening back, I feel like this 2018 interview with Anaïs Mitchell holds up. Originally published on January 10, 2019, Hadestown was about to debut on Broadway, the pandemic was still over a year away, and we were young and full of autumn. Our Basic Folk interview includes a really interesting discussion about feminism (with just one squeamish reference to fourth-wave being about “non-binary” from yours truly. Eeek!). Anaïs talks about her childhood on a sheep farm in Vermont. She unpacks her love for and loyalty in her collaborations and the mystical way she found her visual artist (Peter Nevins) for Hadestown.
We also talk about Hadestown receiving some “viral” attention in 2016, thanks to a Tr*mp campaign promise to build a wall on the southern border. People latched onto her 2006-penned song, “Why We Build the Wall,” which is one of the pinnacle tracks from the Tony Award-winning Broadway musical. Anaïs opens up about how she met her husband, Noah Hahn, and her early musical beginnings in Boston at Club Passim.
This episode was recorded just as Hadestown was set to open at the Walter Kerr Theatre on Broadway in March 2019. This was also a year before her band, Bonny Light Horseman, would release their debut album. I’m proud of our conversation, which includes some chiming in from Anaïs’ guitarist Austin Nevins, who was on tour with her at the time of the recording. We three are old friends and we were trying to record the interview and hang out at the same time. I’ll leave it up to you to decide if we succeeded!
Music is all about moments. It’s a fact we tend to lose sight of, forest for the trees, despite the fact that music can only exist in this, the present moment. Each pluck of a string, each breath of a voice, each lick, hook, and improvisation – no matter how practiced or free – is but a mere moment.
As we all rewind the calendar year to relive the last twelve months and all of the turmoils and triumphs they held, we asked our BGS contributors to reflect on which musical moments they experienced this year that were most memorable, most moving, and most transportive. Which musical moment would you return to, if you could? Which musical moment returns to you, again and again and again?
Our year-end lists are not intended to center on superlatives or “bests;” we don’t so much care about what “should” or “shouldn’t” land in one of these collections. Curation of this sort is never truly objective, so why pretend it is? Instead, we hope our writers and our readers will be able to demonstrate and appreciate that music is never about measuring or comparison, metrics or accomplishments, accolades or awards. Music is about moments – and about wholly inhabiting those moments, together.
Below, our first-rate writers, thinkers, and contributors share the musical moments from 2024 that impacted them most. From Beyoncé galloping through our hearts with Cowboy Carter to intimate, people-first festivals like Laurel Cove Music Festival in Kentucky. There’s also music from harlequin creators like American Patchwork Quartet, Kaia Kater, and Rhiannon Giddens alongside memories of the late Dexter Romweber and the strength of mutual aid and community solidarity in Western North Carolina post-Hurricane Helene.
2024 held so many intricate, ineffable, one-of-a-kind moments, good, bad, ugly, and gorgeous. We hope you’ll take a second to recall your own most memorable musical moments of the year while we share ours – and while we all look forward to many more in the year to come.
August 20, 2024 – Chris Acker and Dylan Earl at Folk i Storgata, Oslo, Norway
Photo by Dana Yewbank taken at a show by Chris Acker and Dylan Earl at Folk i Storgata in Norway.
While this doesn’t quite fit any stereotypes about Scandinavia, black metal, or Viking-inspired neo-folk, Norway has a thriving Americana music scene that welcomes and celebrates even lesser-known American folk and country artists. Chris Acker and Dylan Earl are two of these undersung artists, both represented by Nick Shoulders’ record label Gar Hole Records out of Arkansas. This past summer, Acker, Earl, and I all coincidentally ended up in Oslo, Norway, at the same time, where the pair put on an intimate, inspiring, and tightly-packed show for a crowd of about 30 people in a tiny bar with pink walls. They bantered with the audience, backed each other up on a few songs, and even spontaneously formed an unrehearsed superband with the bar owner and their Norwegian opener – and they were damn good. Acker and Earl are both deeply thoughtful musicians who use their power and presence as men on stage to question the status quo of “good ol’ boy” country and stoic male musicality. Their candidness and subversive humor drew the room together that night with a sense of camaraderie, safety, and concentrated joy. – Dana Yewbank
Act Now! A Paperface Zine Benefit Tape for the Palestine Children’s Relief Fund
A harrowing statistic from the UN agency for Palestinian refugees (UNRWA) reports that as of March 2024, the number of children killed in Gaza over a mere five months (October 2023 to February 2024) surpassed the number of children killed in global conflict over the four years prior, combined (2019-2022). As of December 2024, we are a year and two months into the ceaseless genocide being waged against the innocent civilians of Palestine and the horrific violence only continues.
I salute everyone who has waged resistance against genocidal powers, be it contacting senators, galvanizing communities to action, participating in rallies, or, in this instance, artists and musicians who have used their platform as an act of protest. Paperface Zine, a blog that writes and interviews an eclectic mix of underground artists, spearheaded this collection of tunes in an effort to express solidarity with Palestine and raise funds towards the Palestine Children’s Relief Fund. This Benefit Tape is a shining example of how most any skill can be mobilized to support greater communities; creativity and care forever go hand in hand. – Oriana Mack
American Patchwork Quartet, American Patchwork Quartet
American Patchwork Quartet have pieced together one of the best albums this year. Don’t take our word for it: they’ve been nominated for a GRAMMY for Best Folk Album. That’s the moment we want to celebrate. With all due respect to the other nominees, it’s exciting to see a brand new project get recognized so quickly – particularly one that colors outside the lines like APQ. The quartet add a number of global influences to traditional American songs: a guitar solo here, a sitar there, and a fine sprinkling of tabla make the quartet live up to their name. Now, especially, we need statements that American traditions were born of a tapestry of European, African, and Indigenous cultures that continue to be built upon by everyone who chooses to make this place a part of their own quilts. – Rachel Cholst
September 26, 2024 – Asheville, North Carolina’s Music Scene and Hurricane Helene
On the night of September 26, Hurricane Helene ravaged Western North Carolina with unprecedented rainfall and flooding. What resulted was a tight-knit area completely decimated and utterly distraught by the destruction of numerous communities. The current death toll for the state sits at 103, with many others still missing.
Beyond the cultural, economic, and unbelievable physical devastation to Asheville and surrounding towns, the city’s vibrant and world-renowned live music scene was brought to its knees – a radio silence that lasted several weeks, with numerous unknowns lingering for certain storied venues. But, with great resolve and a steadfast attitude of helping your friends and neighbors, the vast music community in Asheville and greater WNC came together with countless benefit concerts and fundraiser album compilations (Caverns of Gold, Cardinals at the Window) — an effort that remains at the forefront of the region’s recovery that will take years, if not decades, to return to normalcy. – Garret K. Woodward
Beyoncé, “Jolene”
Country music is for everyone and there is something fascinating about an album which ends up in the territory between categories. Beyoncé is a great singer, and has been flirting with country for a very long time; she has the chops to sing “Jolene” better than Dolly. So, when she sings that she’s “still a Creole banjee bitch from Louisiana,” she is making a series of arguments: that country exists in response songs; that the other woman should be given the mic; that the landscape mirrors the territory; and that the gatekeepers should be torn down, like the walls of Jericho. – Steacy Easton
February 4, 2024 – Tracy Chapman & Luke Combs, “Fast Car”
Luke Combs released his version of Tracy Chapman’s “Fast Car” in 2023, but it was his performance with Chapman on the 2024 GRAMMY Awards primetime telecast that rocketed the song from country radio back into the mainstream zeitgeist. Where Combs’s recording highlighted the song’s working-class vibes, seeing him perform it alongside its (Black, queer, female) writer gave the song’s legacy even greater heft. “Fast Car” was always a song about women carrying more weight than any single human can; about the urgent, nagging desire to flee toxic cycles; about how fleeting freedom can sometimes feel. For better or worse, all these things became emblematic of 2024. – Kim Ruehl
Rhiannon Giddens
You would be hard-pressed to cite anyone in any genre who had more memorable musical moments in 2024 than the superb vocalist, composer, and instrumentalist Rhiannon Giddens. Her writing brilliance was showcased through the Silkroad Ensemble group and project. Her arrangements of folk songs were part of their landmark American Railroad tour program along with commissioned pieces from jazz artist Cécile McLorin Salvant and film composer Michael Abels, as well as fellow Silkroad artists Wu Man, Layale Chaker, Haruka Fujii, and Maeve Gilchrist. Giddens was featured on banjo and viola on the hit single “Texas Hold ‘Em,” part of Beyoncé’s huge Cowboy Carter LP. Giddens added another GRAMMY nomination for Best American Roots Performance with “The Ballad of Sally Anne” from the excellent compilation My Black Country: The Songs of Alice Randall, too. Hard to believe there’s any ground left to cover for the MacArthur Genius and Pulitzer Prize winner, but Rhiannon Giddens continues to stun and surprise audiences with everything she does. – Ron Wynn
November 14, 2024 – Zachariah Hickman’s Power Outage Party! at Club Passim, Cambridge, MA
Not sure how bassist and music director Zachariah Hickman (Josh Ritter, Ray Lamontagne, Barnstar!) pulls off his many acts of mischief, but the Power Outage Party! shows are the most creative, beautiful, and emotional musical experiences around. Presented in mid-November by Club Passim, the shows featured a collective of musicians (including members of Della Mae and Session Americana) and guests (this year including Taylor Ashton, Mark Erelli, and Kris Delmhorst) performing without any power in the historic 100-seat club in Harvard Square. The band is lit with camping lanterns and tea lights. The audience is shoehorned in so tight (I was nearly sitting on the cello players’ lap) that you can’t help but feel a part of a very special community. Every time I go, I carry the experience and inspiration with me as we all work through the darkest part of the year. – Cindy Howes
February 24, 2024 – Kaia Kater, “In Montreal” at Folk Alliance International
One of my favorite and most memorable musical moments of the year occurred at Folk Alliance International, where Kaia Kater and her band performed tracks from her brand new album, Strange Medicine, at BGS’s private showcase. In a small hotel room with a handful of audience members, Kater began “In Montreal” with her looping, cyclical, trance-like clawhammer banjo groove. I was immediately transported, immediately grounded, gently – and forcibly – brought to the moment. I still experience the same visceral sensation each time I hear this track begin, the old-time banjo hook leaving and rejoining the beat deliciously, sketching out an expansive pocket. This night, in cold Kansas City, Kater was joined by flutist Amber Underwood (AKA Flutienastiness), who was even further transportive and dreamy in her interpretations of the track. It was a transcendent song, a daring banjo-flute dialogue, a mind-blowing mini set, and a perfect harbinger of what Strange Medicine would cure and balm. – Justin Hiltner
June 7-8, 2024 – Laurel Cove Music Festival
The gem of a festival located just north of the Cumberland Gap in Pineville, Kentucky, has fostered several special moments in recent years, but none come close to matching the memories from Wyatt Flores and The Red Clay Strays headlining sets there this past June.
The first came when Flores’ mics were cut off before an encore, leading to his band sitting atop the speakers lining the stage for a crowd sing along to Tyler Childers’ “Lady May” that to this day still gives me goosebumps. But if that wasn’t enough, The Strays topped it the following night when their show turned into an impromptu baptism after people in the crowd began jumping into the shallow pond surrounding the stage during a performance of their hit song, “Don’t Care.”
Both occurrences were pure magic from two of the year’s hottest country-adjacent acts in an intimate setting with only 1,500 people in attendance, showing that even in the age of corporate mega-festivals the best things still do come in small packages. – Matt Wickstrom
Though he was never top of the pops – or even on the charts at all, either solo or with Flat Duo Jets – wildman proto-rockabilly guitarist John Michael Dexter “Dex” Romweber was still an inspirational icon in the roots-rock world and a key influence on major bands like White Stripes and Black Keys. Romweber was just 57 years old when he died from a cardiac event this year, a shocking event that inspired a worldwide outpouring of tributes that went on for days. Maybe the best of all came from Jack White, who was always wide open about the depth of Romweber’s influence on White Stripes. Writing on Instagram, White proclaimed that Dex “was the type that don’t get 3 course dinners, awards, gold records and statues made of them because they are too real, too much, too strange, too good.” That’s the truth. – David Menconi
July 27, 2024 – Langhorne Slim, “We the People (Fuck the Man)” Live at the BGS Jam at Newport Folk Festival
While putting together the set list for the BGS Late Night Jam, “A Bluegrass Situation,” at Newport Folk Festival back in July, our old pal Langhorne Slim suggested a new tune he had just written. Would the house band be willing to learn it for this special occasion? In the words of our jam host and BGS co-founder Ed Helms, the song was an “instant Newport Classic.”
Slim’s new tune, “We the People (Fuck the Man)” – later released on streaming platforms just before the election – echoed through the Pickens Theatre that Saturday night and immediately got the audience on their feet. Its lyrics are as timeless and rallying as any Guthrie tune, but amidst all the declarations against greed and polarization there’s an optimistic plea in the chorus:
So let us love our neighbors Protect the land Look our brother in the eye When we shake his hand It’s been this way a long time It’s hard to understand The time has come for everyone We the people, fuck the man
In these tumultuous times, Slim gave us words (and a performance) we shouldn’t soon forget. – Amy Reitnouer Jacobs
Sam Williams & Carter Faith, “‘Til I Can Make It on My Own”
Sam Williams and Carter Faith drape their fringe-laced voices over Tammy Wynnette’s “‘Til I Can Make It on My Own.” While honoring the song’s 1976 roots, the two rising stars spin their own lonesome and delicate performance that seems to transcend time and place. “Lord, you know I’m gonna need a friend,” they sing, trading stunningly confessional lines and background harmony. “‘Til I get used to losing you/ Let me keep on using you, ‘til I can make it on my own.” Through a honeyed, emotionally resonant arrangement, Williams and Faith demonstrate exactly why they’re among the best of today’s new crop of talent. – Bee Delores
Yasmin Williams, Acadia
The guitar is perhaps the most ubiquitous instrument in the modern world, making it even more notable that a picker like Yasmin Williams could still stake out fresh territory on the instrument, finding and championing her own truly original sound and approach. Acadia is a masterwork, breaking still new ground after Williams’ incredibly successful 2021 album, Urban Driftwood. While Acadia isn’t exactly a reinvention for the picker-composer-innovator, it does limitlessly expand the acoustic universe she’s been fleshing out since releasing her debut, Unwind, in 2018. That’s a fairly short runway for a creative to accomplish so much, especially given Williams seemingly treats her guitars as brand new devices each time she picks them up to compose. The results are often bafflingly, jaw-dropping, and dramatic – but always musical and ceaselessly inspiring. – Justin Hiltner
Photo Credit: Tracy Chapman live on the 2024 GRAMMY Awards; Kaia Kater by Janice Reid; Langhorne Slim with Ed Helms at Newport Folk Festival by Nina Westervelt.
Oh, how I’ve longed to talk to Liv Greene. Every once in a while you come across a young artist that seems older and wiser than her 26 years. Liv’s been giving me that impression since I met her in 2019, when she was at Club Passim waiting tables and breaking hearts on the stage at just 21 years. Ok, enough about being young.
Liv’s been writing, studying music, and going to music camps since she was 12. Arguably she’s been studying music all her life with her Americana loving parents, who were filling the house with the sounds of Patty Griffin, Emmylou Harris, and Shawn Colvin, to name a few women in heavy rotation at the Greene house. Being the only of her friends that liked that kind of music, Liv attended many D.C.-area concerts with her mom, taking in the magic of live music at a very tender age. Speaking of tenderness, that’s what Liv Greene is all about and she digs into it in our conversation.
Liv started writing and playing shortly after she was inspired by a Taylor Swift concert. From there, she took off on the instrument and even sought out music education in camps like Miles of Music in New Hampshire. It was at that camp, as well as the arts academy Interlochen High School, where she started meeting peers with similar interests. She found herself living for summers with her music camp friends. Prior to her senior year at Interlochen, Liv was a closeted queer at her all-girls Catholic school mostly writing fictionalized stories into her songs because she could not deal with who she was.
Liv attended and graduated from The New England Conservatory of Music and released her debut album (produced by Isa Burke) right in time for the pandemic in May of 2020. Shortly after that, she moved to Nashville and has spent the last several years on an intense path of self-discovery. Liv found her community, came out, wrote, and self-produced her new album, Deep Feeler (out October 18). On the album, you can hear the growth she’s experienced and you can hear her thriving in her corner of the Nashville music scene, including indie folk. We talk about all of this, including what it means to have a neurodivergent brain, music production, the roller skating community, and Liv’s favorite Taurus personality traits.
From the crosshairs of the Boston folk community and punk/DIY scene emerges Sweet Petunia, an innovative duo consisting of multi-instrumentalist songwriters Maddy Simpson and Mairead Guy. A synthesis of banjos, queerness, emotive lyricism, and life-affirming harmonies, the pair’s music explores the fluidity of futurity, even when anchored in centuries of tradition.
With two EPs and several singles under their belt, Sweet Petunia graces the ears of multitudes with an active touring schedule and their vigorous participation in the Boston music scene. The queer alt folk duo’s commitment to community and uplifting overlooked histories only deepen the resounding impact that their music inspires.
So, to start things off, how did the two of you first meet?
Maddy Simpson: We both went to Berklee College of Music and we got placed into the same ensemble, 21st Century String Band, taught by Greg Liszt, who is an incredible banjo player. One day we were supposed to have an additional rehearsal with another guy that was in the ensemble, but he stood us up (shoutout Rob with your Legends of Zelda beanie with a brim!) The two of us showed up for the rehearsal and he never came. So we just had 45 minutes to talk to each other. We ended up talking about our goals, the music we liked, and found out that we had a lot of similar likes and plans for the future. So we decided to get together and play some music. When we did, immediately we were like, “Okay, let’s be in a band.”
What does your musical chemistry with one another feel like?
MS: Well, we always joke that we’re related. I mean, we do sound very similar when we sing together. So it kind of feels like we’re like a family band even though we’re not related.
Mairead Guy: Yeah, I mean it just works – really well. Obviously we put in a lot of work into what we do. But a lot of it feels very easy when we’re playing and arranging together. We have similar intuitions about the way things should go, and that makes it really fun and special to play together.
What is your process like when you songwrite and arrange together? And what’s it like arranging with two banjos?
MG: Most of the time we come to each other with an almost-completed song. Sometimes we write together, but usually we come together once the song is pretty much finished and arrange it from there. And that’s just a lot of playing it over and over and over and over, trying different things and seeing what sticks and what pops out.
That works! How did each of you come to the genre and/or the banjo?
MS: I came to folk music through the folk revival of the ’60s. I listened to a lot of Simon & Garfunkel growing up and then when I was a little bit older, I got into the folk revival revival, so like Mumford & Sons, The Head and the Heart, The Lumineers, and that kind of stuff. I had no idea that was just the tip of a really big iceberg – I didn’t really discover true traditional music until college, when I got really into old-time music and ’50s country blues and that kind of thing.
The reason I started playing banjo is that obviously it was pretty present in the music that I was listening to like all throughout high school and my childhood, but when I got to college I had a dorm-mate who played banjo. He was a banjo principal and he would play banjo in the lounge and the laundry room – just everywhere. One day I told him that I was interested and he said, “If you buy a banjo, I’ll give you lessons.” So over Thanksgiving break I went home, bought a banjo, came back, and started taking lessons with him. And then I started taking lessons with other people at Berklee and that was it for me – it became my primary instrument.
MG: So, I grew up in Virginia. There’s a lot of traditional, old-time bluegrass around in that area and a lot of my family is pretty musical – my uncle and aunt and my great uncle and his longtime partner. We’re are all professional musicians and my great uncle was a phenomenal clawhammer banjo player. My brother plays the banjo and I’d always wanted to play it, because it’s such a beautiful instrument. When Maddy and I first started playing together, we had a lot of songs where we would trade our instruments around. When she switched to banjo I thought it was the perfect time to finally sink my teeth in and do it. Similarly to her, once I picked one up I was like, “Oh my God, why haven’t I been doing this the whole time?” Yeah, it’s an addictive instrument to play.
I noticed that the stylization of a lot of your lyrics is super unique and you have several songs with strong narratives. Can you talk a bit about the song “Quilt Too Big to Fold”? I’ve had it on repeat for weeks.
MS: Thank you. Yeah, I wrote that song for a class. We were given this assignment to write a story song. And I was thinking a lot and sort of had this refrain in my head, “All you do is sit all day and sew.” So I did some journaling about all of the things that you can sit and sew. Fiber arts are really important to me and at the time of writing that song I was really into embroidery and I was getting really into visible mending – dabbling in this world of fiber arts.
I started thinking about all of the different fiber mediums you can have. And I started to think about quotes. And then, obviously, I’m also gay. I had already seen the AIDS Memorial Quilt, so I began to look into it more deeply. The quilt was started by a lesbian and was just one of the many forms of activism that came out of the AIDS crisis. The song sort of formed around that pretty quickly. It was easy to write given the fact that I’m queer and then just creating this work of fiction where I did a lot of thinking about what it would be like to go through that, taking my own passions and interests in sort of like translating them into a historical lens. And it was really an interesting process.
Really, really amazing stuff. I also saw that you both played an integral part in Club Passim’s inaugural Pride show? Can you talk a little bit about that and what that was like?
MG: Oh it was all Maddie! Well, we played it together, but it was all Maddie.
MS: Mairead kept me sane – I was freaking out the whole time. I was given the opportunity to curate Club Passim’s first ever truly Pride-themed show. We’ve done Pride open mics and once we had a queer festival, but that was during COVID, so it was all online. So we’ve had some queer-centered events before, but this was the first ever show specifically dedicated to Pride Month.
I was given this opportunity through The Folk Collective, which is an initiative that Passim is spearheading right now. Basically, it’s a cohort of 12 artists and cultural thought leaders that live in and around Boston. Passim has invited them into the club to synthesize what the future of folk music could be like, since folk music has, in the cultural narrative, been seen as a really white-washed and male-centric genre. So it’s 12 people of varying marginalized identities and people of all ages and races and gender identities and sexual identities coming together to talk about what the future of folk music could look like.
I was given an opportunity through the Folk Collective to bring together six queer acts who are making music either directly inspired by or within the traditional genre. We had several performers who played super traditional instruments – I mean, we both played banjo and we had somebody who plays the mountain dulcimer, which was really cool. We had somebody else who did country blues and talked about gender non-conforming people in the genre. And we also had some incredible singer-songwriters as well. It ended up being a crazy night of celebrating queer identities and also celebrating the traditional music that everybody at Club Passim loves so much. It was very, very awesome.
MG: Hell yeah. Beautiful night – Maddie put so much time and effort and care into curating all of these artists and making this happen in such an important and cognitive way, and it was just such an incredible thing to ride along the coattails of.
Hopefully there are many more! In general, what does the community feel like in Boston, within the folk scene, and how do you see Sweet Petunia fitting into it?
MG: I think that Maddie and I have a particular perspective on it just because we work at Club Passim, so we see all the musicians that pass through. But I mean, as is evidenced by the event that we just had, there is a pretty wide community of queer and trans folk musicians who are drawing inspiration from traditional roots music. And even beyond tradition, things like the pedal or lap steel are becoming super popular in different genres of music. Even the banjo people are using electric banjo to get a super sick like electric guitar tone and that sort of thing.
MS: Yeah, I was just gonna say that we sit in a really weird intersection, because we’re not quite in the traditional folk scene. We’re also really established within the DIY scene as well, which is primarily indie rock and hardcore music in Boston. But because we exist in both circles we get the best of both worlds. Sometimes we get asked to play punk shows, but we also can play listening room venues like Passim.
Outside of the folk and Americana scene, what are your biggest influences right now?
MS: I love slowcore and also the huge bootgaze thing that’s happening right now. I feel like I exist in the perfect time to be 25 and into DIY music, because most of the music being made around here at this point has some bootgaze element.
Could you define bootgaze?
MS: It’s like shoegaze-inspired country music. Or country-inspired shoegaze music. Some blur into indie rock, some are just shoegaze bands that use country instrumentation or come from a place where country music is the main genre. The band Wednesday is probably the biggest right now. They sort of pioneered the genre. MJ Lenderman, Florry – there’s lots to explore if you look up bootgaze or countrygaze.
What about you, Mariead?
MG: I mean, definitely same. I’ve also really been loving a lot of hyperpop and pop music recently. Just like the energy in songs like that is so interesting. I’ve been thinking a lot about the banjo as a similar percussion to a drum machine in a super fast hyperpop song. I’ve been trying to think about ways to incorporate that because most of the songs that I write make you feel kind of bad, but I think it’d be kind of fun to write songs that made you feel kinda good.
I think you’re onto something! Do you two have any fun projects coming up?
MG: We’re working on a Dolly Parton cover EP. Every year for Halloween since 2019 (except for 2020 because of COVID) we have done a Dolly Parton cover set. And so this will be our fifth year of Dolly Parton cover sets. So we wanted to do a little something to commemorate it.
MS: Yeah, it’s gonna be really fun. That’s coming in October. There will be a bill for a cover show. So if people are local to Boston, they can come to that.
That is so exciting! So you’re our One to Watch, but who are you watching? Are there any artists, creatives, musicians, etc. that you’re appreciating especially right now?
MS: I think that my one to watch is Roman Barten-Sherman, the person from Passim’s Pride show who does traditional country blues. She’s incredible. She’s so good. She is so smart. And so well-read and knowledgeable about early American country blues. During her shows she’ll introduce every song with so much knowledge about the genre and people who play it. She knows so much about gender-nonconforming and trans individuals and Black women who have contributed to the genre. She knows everything – it’s crazy. And then she’ll play the song and it’s the best fucking thing you’ve ever heard. She’s just so good. I think she’s going to take over the world. She’s my one to watch.
MD: I definitely second that – she’s one of the people I was thinking of. I would also say Jarsch. Just absolutely incredible, visceral songwriting. Beautiful lyricism relating to both the pain and joy of queerness and gender and life itself – religious trauma, all sorts of things. Everytime I see her play I literally just cry and cry. It’s so beautiful. She’s the only person I’ve seen able to yield a guitjo in an appropriate manner, and she just has so much love for what she’s doing and the community she’s in. I feel very lucky to know her. Definitely a one to watch.
Sadie Gustafson-Zook is a detailed songwriter, pulling together collages of images and ideas and stitching them into melodies and lyrics. I met Sadie in 2019 at Club Passim, a renowned folk venue in Cambridge, Massachusetts known for promoting generations of great folk music. I was studying in Boston at the time, surrounded by incredible developing artists. Sadie was one of them, alongside Liv Greene,Jobi Riccio (featured before on Out Now), and Olivia Barton, another queer artist who came through the Club Passim folk scene and is now gaining traction.
We are excited to share our interview with Sadie the same week she releases the incredible new album, Where I Wanna Be (available May 10). Their thoughtful writing, pure voice, and creative guitar lines are sure to impress. Many of the songs on the album have a lullaby-like feel enhanced by Sadie’s soft voice and soothing melodies.
This month, Sadie is touring the Midwest with Brittany Ann Tranbaugh, who we also featured on Out Now earlier this year. They are powerful songwriters and performers alone, but seeing both artists in one show is a treat that you don’t want to miss! If you’re in the area, be sure to catch their tour through Wisconsin, Minnesota, Michigan, and Indiana.
What’s your ideal vision for your future?
Sadie Gustafson-Zook: Ideally, I would be able to keep doing what I’m doing, but slightly more of it. I think my music offers something special and I would like for more people to hear it. At the same time, I really do like living at least part of the time as a normal person who is in their house and has a cat and is a part of their local community’s life – so maintaining a sense of balance is definitely something I’m passionate about.
Right now, my ideal vision would be to play 100+ fun gigs per year (I’m not really interested in gigging for the sake of the grind – I mostly want to have a good time and hang out with people I love); continue teaching privately and at music camps (I’ve been really lucky to be able to do this at Kerrville’s Song School, Kentucky Music Week, and this summer I’ll be at Ossipee Valley’s String Camp); spend a lot of time in nature and with my family; and keep absorbing so I have things to write about.
Why do you create music? What’s more satisfying to you, the process or the outcome?
I create music because I think it’s fun to sing and play instruments and I like writing about my own life in a way that other people can relate to. Personally, I like being able to organize my thoughts into a nugget that is shaped like a song and that helps me sort out my emotions. And then socially, I love having the opportunity to share those songs and feel a broader sense of connection with people around me – and people who I don’t know! So, I think the process and the outcome are both things I really enjoy.
Do you create music primarily for yourself or for others?
In college, I was a voice major and I spent four years singing operatic arias. I didn’t initially think this was what I was going to spend my college years doing, but once I started singing in such a big and full-body way, I had a really fun time experimenting with the extremes of what sounds my body was capable of producing. But when I performed these songs written by classical composers I didn’t feel very connected to the essence of the music. I sang it for myself, because it was fun (and probably also because I wanted people to pay attention to me), but I wasn’t assuming that my performance would touch something deep in someone else.
Since then, I have shifted towards writing and performing original music. I enjoy writing songs that are fun to sing and I write based on what I’m going through and what I need to talk about. Ironically, this feels like a more communal act than performing music that someone else wrote. I have the greatest chance of connecting with an audience over a shared experience if I’m speaking directly from my own experience, and ultimately my biggest goal is connection.
You shared about maintaining a sense of balance between being in the music industry and living in a home, with your pet, surrounded by community. Many artists and music-industry professionals have a challenging time with this. How have you built a sense of balance between these things? Do you have any words of advice for others working through the same challenges?
I’m very privileged to have an affordable living situation right now thanks to moving back to my hometown in the Midwest and having my parents as landlords. This freedom has made it possible for me to pay my bills exclusively with music-related work, which helps keep morale high in the music department. So I just want to preface everything else I say with the acknowledgement that it’s a lot easier to feel balanced when I’m not constantly worrying about money. While my situation is a privilege, I also know that not everyone would want to leave their music city hub and move in across the street from their parents in Indiana! Ha!
In terms of time balance, I’ve been testing out the way it feels to have music plans that take me away from home for one(ish) week each month, with some longer exceptions in the summer. That has been a nice way to not get too antsy at home, while also giving myself time to do more administrative work and be present in my town between tours. My first year of living in Goshen, I was pretty lonely and spent most of my time online, which honestly was horrible. I was really craving more in-person connections, so this year I’ve been digging into local activities as well as being really intentional about seeing my songwriter friends’ shows when they’re in a nearby city. Even when I don’t feel like leaving my house or driving a few hours away to see someone, I’m almost always happy that I did.
Your music is so descriptive, thoughtful, and well-crafted. What was the process like for you to write these 10 songs on the new album?
Thank you! The majority of these songs were written when I was living in Nashville in the spring of 2022 and then also when I was traveling around, sleeping in my car that summer. I had just had a breakup in Seattle and had to figure out where I wanted to live and between those two major changes I had a lot of processing to do! I also was spending a lot more time alone than I was used to and I felt like I had a lot of pent up creativity that came out really fast. Then there are also a few songs that I wrote once I was starting to feel a bit more settled in my hometown, as memories from my past kind of overlaid on top of my newer understanding of myself. Those came out more like steady drips throughout the end of 2022 and into 2023.
What inspired you to write Where I Wanna Be? What does the album mean to you and what do you hope others will take away from this collection of songs?
Although the album is called Where I Wanna Be, thematically the songs are more about who I wanna be and what I need to change in order to be that person. When someone asks, “How are you?” it’s easier to talk about geographical location (“I’ve been traveling a lot!”) as a substitute for emotional location (“I’ve been feeling really ungrounded”), especially when everything is in flux.
Each song, in its own way, speaks to who I want to be; I want to be someone who is free and expansive, who knows what makes me happy, whose identity reflects who I know myself to be, who is a part of a team/community, who doesn’t give my power away, who is consistently and historically queer, who trusts myself, who speaks up for myself and takes accountability, who feels at home in my geographical location, and someone who maintains a sense of curiosity in the midst of uncertainty. And that’s basically the whole album.
I think that’s why the album feels so intimate. Though I wrote this collection of songs for my own processing, I know that a lot of people go through this process for themselves, so I’m happy to lend my own experience to folks who might find it helpful.
The title track of the album, “Where I Wanna Be,” includes the lyric, “Every year I drive around, scope out the towns, thinking is this where I wanna be found.” I am curious if you feel a sense of the “grass is greener” in another town? I feel like this is a huge theme, especially among young adults, the idea that we may feel more fulfilled in another place.
Even if I daydream about moving, I find that I feel pretty aware of what I’m missing out on (in a positive and a negative way), and that helps with not over idealizing certain places. I know about the realities of living in Boston, or Brooklyn, or Nashville, or the PNW, and so all things considered, I’ve chosen to live where I am and visit those other places.
Sometimes I still daydream about living somewhere else, but mostly what I find myself imagining are the different communities I could be a part of. I’ve gotten little windows into different communities through meeting people at festivals and conferences, which are mysterious liminal spaces where people who live in different places gather together. They don’t represent an actual location where I could live permanently. And I think it’s helpful for me to remember that when I start feeling like I should move. Likely I’m imagining somewhere that doesn’t currently exist. Not that we couldn’t start an artist commune, though.
Who are your favorite LGBTQ+ artists and bands?
God, more like who isn’t LGBTQ+! [Laughs]
Spencer LaJoye, Flamy Grant, Jean Rohe, Liv Greene, Jobi Riccio, Singer & the Songwriter, Cloudbelly, Lindsay Foote, Olivia Barton, Joy Clark, Allison de Groot & Tatiana Hargraves, Olive Klug, Jane O’Neill, Brittany Ann Tranbaugh, Elisabeth Pixley-Fink, Adrienne Lenker, Taylor Ashton, Eliza Edens, Rachael Kilgour, Emily King, Judee Sill, and tons of obviously bisexual woman performers who aren’t publicly out.
For anyone reading this who might not be out of the closet, were there any specific people, musicians, or resources that helped you find yourself as a queer individual?
Although I’m bisexual, reading the Lesbian Masterdoc was very helpful as a way to sort through my past, draw connections between memories and feelings, and generally deconstruct the idea that being straight was the only option for me (compulsory heterosexuality). I also really loved reading Katie Heaney’s book, Would You Rather, and The Fixed Stars by Molly Wizenberg. (In addition to following every cute queer person I found on Instagram.)
What does it mean to you to be an LGBTQ+ musician?
I often feel like performers are treated kind of like inspirational court jesters, where we’re being the weird, thoughtful, creative ones, and the normal people come to shows to live vicariously through us. Honestly, it’s pretty similar to how queer people break boxes and live expansively just by being ourselves (except that queer stories are often suppressed and not amplified). So, if I have the opportunity to have a platform and the power to influence my audience, I want to take that responsibility seriously and show up as my fullest self so they can see that it’s possible for them as well. I love being a queer musician and knowing that by just being myself, I might be helping audience members learn more about themselves as well.
What’s the best advice you’ve ever gotten?
In 2016, I was attending the Rocky Mountain Song School and was a part of a partnered songwriting class where each participant told their partner a story from their life and then the partner would use that story as a songwriting prompt. My songwriting partner told me about his career trajectory and how someone advised him to get an entry-level job at the local venue that he wanted to play. So he got a job as a busboy at this venue and then progressively worked his way up, eventually becoming tight with the booker until he was selling out shows with his name on the marquee.
Although he wasn’t giving advice per se, I kept this story in mind when I moved to Boston after college and I got a job working at the box office of Club Passim. Regardless of career prospects, I think it’s a really good idea, for community building purposes, to become a regular wherever you want people to know you. For me, in working at Passim, I was hanging out there all the time and it was inevitable that I met a ton of super cool people who are doing really great things and now I feel pretty well-connected.
What are your release and touring plans for the next year?
This year is a big one for me! I’m (obviously) releasing this new album, Where I Wanna Be, and I actually have another recorded project scheduled for the fall! Tour-wise, I have been upping my booking game and will be touring around the Midwest in May with Brittany Ann Tranbaugh (we’ll likely be around Wisconsin and Minnesota when this article is published), the West coast in October with Jean Rohe, and the Northeast in November, and a lot of other spots in between! I’ll be teaching at a few songwriting and music camps as well, which I love to do. So I think it’ll be a great year!
Let’s get folking special! We’re closing out 2023 with an exclusive live recording from folk mothership Club Passim, the historic folk venue located in Cambridge, Massachusetts, that celebrates the bi-annual campfire festival and its remarkable 25th anniversary. It started as a way for the club to book a slow holiday weekend and now 25 years later, campfire is still held every Memorial Day and Labor Day weekend. It remains an extremely popular fundraiser for Passim.
Cindy and Lizzie host this live show featuring captivating performances by Lizzie, Zachariah Hickman, Kara McKee, and Mercedes Escobar. Additionally, listeners are treated to a rare on-stage interview with managing director and campfire founder Matt Smith as well as club manager and campfire programmer Abby Altman, providing unique insights into the festival’s evolution and the passion that fuels its success.
This episode highlights the unpredictability of campfire, where both emerging artists and legends like Peter Wolf share the sacred stage. Matt Smith and Abby Altman’s dedication shines through as they discuss their exhaustive efforts in planning, booking, and executing nearly 60 campfires, showcasing the heart and soul behind this beloved festival. Tune in for a mix of live music, insightful conversations, and a nostalgic journey through the rich history of “campfire.” and Club Passim.
(Editor’s Note: This interview first appeared in full on Basic Folk. Listen on BGS or wherever you get podcasts. The following has been lightly edited for flow and clarity.)
Jobi Riccio has only begun to scratch the surface of what they have to offer on their debut album, Whiplash. The songwriting is centered around self discovery and mourning past lives, laid alongside super-smart country and pop melodies. Our hero grew up an outdoor kid amongst the woods of Red Rocks Parks Amphitheatre in Colorado.
A strong bluegrass community encircled her playing from a very young age in a way that encouraged her to pursue music as a career. She spent time in Boston attending Berklee College of Music, nestled in the folk community centered around the historic venue Club Passim. March 2020 hit. Jobi had to leave her newfound community and found herself back in her childhood bedroom.
While wrestling with all the complications of finding herself and her place in the world, they were letting go of their childhood and the sense of grounding that came with it. Eventually, they made their way to Asheville, North Carolina to work on Whiplash.
In the studio, she took her time making the album and discovered that indeed, she had a strong sense of vision for the music. The trust of her collaborators allowed her to trust in herself and create an album that is turning heads and making Jobi Riccio one of the most exciting young songwriters of 2023.
BGS: Thank you so much for being on Basic Folk.
Jobi Riccio: Thank you for having me.
Alright, let’s start. I wanted to talk about identity and give you the opportunity to talk about your identity, like how do you identify pronouns, orientation, any of that stuff that we want to address.
JR: Yeah, I use she/they pronouns. I identify as queer and identity has been something that feels like it’s been important and very complicated for me. It feels like something that I have spoken about and made a part of my career, and now I’m kind of feeling, a little bit, like it’s become too much of a focus in my career, actually.
It’s funny, because I was listening to your other podcast that [you do], I can’t remember–
Yes! I was like, you’ll know the person to plug – and I’m so sorry to Why We Write.
It’s based on actually something that Lizzie No was saying. I just really resonated with something that she said, which was it’s about who is asking those questions of me. It can feel like a fine line. It’s kind of “cool” right now to be a queer artist or a Black artist or an artist of color in the folk space.
When you’re with your community, that feels one way, or with people who are truly great. And then when you’re with people who it just seems like they need to check that box. It’s so obvious and it’s so painful and it feels like a betrayal of yourself. And [Lizzie] put it a lot more eloquently than all that, but if we’re really going down the discussion of identity, it’s important to me that I am open with my identity, but I also feel like there have been times where it’s been so hyper-focused on. In a way that it’s like, “Did you even listen to any of my songs or did you know what I mean?”
I really enjoyed that answer. Doing these interviews, sometimes I feel like I’m gonna ask and I think that the interview is gonna go one way or a question is gonna go one way and it goes the complete opposite way. I just get to enjoy the ride.
You are from Morrison, Colorado, which is outside of Denver – the same place as Red Rocks Parks and Amphitheatre. You were an outdoor kid. How do you think your early experience in nature has impacted the person you became?
I think that it’s something that I really value and need and it’s a processing tool for me, being out in nature. It’s almost equivalent to songwriting and writing in my journal. It’s honestly super hard here in Nashville, because I don’t feel like I can get that, in the way that I used to be able to walk to a hiking trail five minutes from my house. I was absolutely supremely spoiled with outdoor access as a kid. [I didn’t] know any better. Like, there’s going to come a time where you’re going to live somewhere the nearest mountains are two and a half hours away. That is rough. It’s something I have to really intentionally build into my life now.
I think that nature heavily informs me as a person. Musically, I feel like it shows up in my lyrics [and] images from home, talking about coyotes and cactus and etc. I feel like it’s so intrinsic to who I am as a person.
So nature ruined you.
For real. The nature ruined me. Colorado ruined me.
There has always been this strong draw to music for you – country radio, your parents and sister’s collection of music, and also making music on your own. Can you set the scene for what music looked like in your house? And when did you get a grasp on your own taste in music?
My parents definitely – we had like a home stereo and a big collection of CDs and I spent a lot of time just sort of putzing around my house as a little kid, opening cabinets, and looking at things and opening the encyclopedia and reading. I don’t know if anyone else feels like a really intrinsic part of childhood was just looking at things.
The CD collection in like, a big wicker basket was definitely a huge one for me. They felt like little gifts. I could open up the CD and then there was this extra thing I could pull out and there were liner notes and lyrics and I could read along. That was really big for me, because I was always really interested in lyrics.
My dad’s a huge Bruce Springsteen fan. We love the Boss and sometimes we can’t understand the Boss. And like, his lyrics are wonderful, too. I really feel like that was pretty formative to me, looking through my parents’ CDs and my sister’s CDs as well. My oldest sister had like a clear, hot pink, very early 2000s lockbox thing that she kept her CDs in. I very vividly remember going into her room and stealing CDs – The Killers, Coldplay, A Rush of Blood to the Head was a big one for me, Sheryl Crow, Tuesday Night Music Club, Yellow Ocean Avenue. Then like Emmylou Harris, Bruce Springsteen, Linda Ronstadt, the Eagles, James Taylor.
There is a strong bluegrass community where you’re from. You found it at an early age, playing mandolin when you were like eight or nine years old. Since then you’ve sought out musical community, so what did you learn from that first musical community?
The bluegrass community was a big part of feeling supported for me in music. I was always a kid who sang and was like, the girl with a good voice in like my elementary school class or whatever, but I didn’t see myself as a musician until I really started playing mandolin. I had a teacher and he was super supportive and was like, “You’re really great at instruments, too.”
I feel like the bluegrass community in my hometown took me seriously even though I was a little kid running around at RockyGrass – and by “a little kid” I mean 16. I didn’t go to my first bluegrass festival until I was a teenager. I would go and sit and jam with adults and be taken seriously. I really looked up to [those who were] offering their support to me, that was immeasurable to [growing] my own self confidence at that age.
I mean, I was so insecure at like 15, 16. The first year I ever went to RockyGrass, which sort of became my home festival, I didn’t even go out and play with anyone. I just sat in my camper with my mom, because I was so scared and so nervous and having trouble with confidence. The next year, I was out like playing every night ’til like 2 or 3 a.m.
That’s a huge shift!
Yeah. I feel like community and music– I mean, no musician is an island. We’re nothing without the musicians who came before us and those who’ve supported us. Sometimes I look back on that time and wonder if I hadn’t gotten that nod in that jam from that older kid who was really good, who I thought was awesome; or from that artist who I worshipped, who told me I had a beautiful voice; or I had shared one of my songs with them, and they were encouraging of me writing. I wonder if I would have taken it this far?
Then I got to be in a really beautiful community space working at Club Passim in college, too. That also further helped bolster my confidence, especially playing solo. Because – as you know, as also somebody who worked there in a much different capacity – it’s very much like a solo listening room, singer-songwriter space.
I play solo [a lot] now on tour, because I can’t afford to bring out a band. I feel like I really garnered some valuable skills watching other people like Mark Erelli and Lori McKenna play solo at Passim and also having to do that myself, learning how to speak about the songs I had written and not be painfully awkward, but doing that in the loving embrace of that room.
You’ve talked about Sheryl Crow and The Chicks as having a huge impact on you. You picked up the mandolin after you first heard Nickel Creek – can you talk more about the influence Chris Thile and Sara and Sean Watkins had on you?
So, I first heard Nickel Creek on the radio on KBCO, which is like the AAA station.
Hell yeah, that’s a huge station. That’s where AAA was born!
Where AAA was born, famously, yes! That was my local radio station that I listened to as a kid. And they would play “Smoothie Song” by Nickel Creek. This was around the same time that I heard the Home album by The Chicks. I was listening to Top 40 country music and also hearing mandolin here and there. It’s so strange, because I don’t play the mandolin anymore. It’s just something I’m not interested in now – it makes me almost kind of sad to think of how this was such a big part of my life.
Then I really pivoted – and it’s like, I’ll never say never, but yeah, I started playing mandolin when I was 15, I wanted to play mandolin when I was about eight or nine years old, because that was when we got Why Should the Fire Die on CD as a family. When I started opening up the CD and reading the booklet and listening – that album is so cool, because there’s a little bit of almost a pop-punk thing to some of the songs, like “Somebody More Like You.” That was so of-the-time and I loved it. I couldn’t get enough of that.
Being introduced to this new palette of instruments that I really hadn’t heard played in this way. I was familiar with bluegrass to some extent, but it like bluegrass for me and my like angsty little 12-year-old self. And, you know, everybody’s angsty selves at any age. That struck such a chord in me…
And Pavement’s super emo! “Spit On a Stranger,” right?
Yeah, that’s it.
I loved that album, too. They were all older than me, but I didn’t really know that either because, like, they’re pretty young on the CD case. They’re probably [around] my older sister’s age, who is now 28. They’re not that close in age to me, but I did feel a kindred-ness that I feel like a lot of roots artists talk about, hearing them and the Chicks and being like, “Oh, this is cool! This is of the moment.” They’re incorporating sounds that we like from other genres, which is really what I think I’m trying to get with the whole pop-punk thing, though I know that can be kind of a “dirty” word, like pop country. I don’t think it should be, I don’t think any genre word should be.
And I definitely had like a three month period where I was like, “I’m in love with Chris Thile. I’m going to marry him.” That was a little, you know, short lived, but it was strong. His high, angelic voice really spoke to my prepubescent soul.
That’s so sweet.
You’re like, “I don’t know what to say about that!”
Thank you for sharing. No, it turns out it was Sara Watkins the whole time!
Jobi Riccio has only begun to scratch the surface of what they have to offer on their debut album, Whiplash. The songwriting is centered around self-discovery and mourning past lives, laid alongside super smart country and pop melodies. Our hero grew up an outdoor kid amongst the woods of Red Rocks Parks and Amphitheatre in Colorado. A strong bluegrass community encircled her playing from a very young age, in a way that encouraged her to pursue music as a career. She spent time in Boston attending Berklee College of Music nestled in the folk community centered around the historic venue, Club Passim. Then March 2020 hit.
Jobi left her new community and found herself back in her childhood bedroom. She was “wrestling with all the complications of finding herself and her place in the world while letting go of her childhood and the sense of grounding that came with it.” Eventually, they made their way to Asheville, North Carolina to work on Whiplash. In the studio, she took her time making the album and discovered that, indeed, she had a strong sense of vision for the music. The trust of her collaborators allowed her to trust in herself and create an album that is turning heads and making Jobi Riccio one of the most exciting young songwriters of 2023. I loved talking to them about their origin, time in Boston and their continuing musical journey. Can’t wait for you to hear her new album!
Antje Duvekot confronts trauma with a newfound wisdom and fierceness on her new record, My New Wild West, her best in her 20-plus year career produced by her friend, Mark Erelli. To put it plainly, Antje, who moved to America from Germany at age 13, had a really rough time as a teenager. She was transplanted to a totally new universe with a new language she barely understood with unsupportive and abusive parents. She soothed herself with music, her first love. She sang and played guitar very quietly, which has translated to the musician she has become. Her voice can be soft, childlike and playful, but it can also be strong and deep. The control is incredible. Not to mention, this woman’s observation of the world is profound. In each song, she creates worlds that come to life with her poignant lyricism. It’s arresting and always unexpected.
This interview was different for me in that Antje and I have known each other for over two decades. That’s happened before on Basic Folk, but it feels like our careers started on the exact same day and we’ve grown together in this messy business. The story is that we met at Club Passim (maybe it was a Gillian Welch tribute night, and thanks to Matt Smith) in Cambridge, Massachusetts, around 2002. It took one song and I was floored. She gave me her CD, I took it, and played it over and over on the WERS Coffeehouse (the morning folk show). Every Coffeehouse DJ knew how to spell her name and would expect to field calls every time we played her music. That just doesn’t happen anymore; it was right at the end of an era when radio could do that. From there, Antje’s career took shape. I’ll be forever grateful to her for that experience. It really felt like radio at its best: connecting a community with something really needed in an organic way. It’s good to get back together in our conversation. Please excuse me if I’m a little too casual in this one!
It was a Tuesday night in 2021. I was sitting in The Lipstick Lounge, Nashville’s local lesbian bar, attending RNBW, a weekly LGBTQ+ showcase. I sat near the stage at a large table amongst strangers and friends, one of whom was Laura Valk. Naturally, after introducing herself as an indie-folk singer-songwriter, I knew I had to find her music and see if she was compatible with Queerfest, my local LGBTQ+ music showcase and festival. I was stunned. Not only to find a phenomenal, local queer musician, but upon the realization that I had already liked one of her videos on TikTok! If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that the queer music industry is small – and TikTok’s algorithms had me figured out.
Skout is a duo composed of Laura Valk and Connor Gladney. They played the first festival I hosted, a virtual event livestreamed in collaboration with Club Passim, and they were one of the first artists to play a live Queerfest show, back when I was hosting performances in a friend’s backyard before working with established venues.
It’s been an honor and a pleasure to watch them join the local Nashville community, take off on tours, and release new songs. Their music is laced with intricate guitar lines, hard-hitting lyrics, and warm, catchy melodies. I’m proud to present our Out Now interview with Laura Valk of Skout.
Laura Valk: Living a life with regret. It’s so insane that we’re all here to begin with, and I just want to make sure I’m taking full advantage of my time here. I know I’ll stumble along the way, but I want to live a life where I took some chances and big leaps of faith instead of always playing it safe. In the words of everyone’s favorite grassroots folk hero, Eminem, “You only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blow. This opportunity comes once in a lifetime.”
What would a “perfect day” look like for you?
LV: The year is 2012. At 8 a.m. I wake up to a text from Ben Howard asking us to open for him on his Every Kingdom Tour. Literally anything else could happen that day and it would still be perfect. Maybe some blueberry pancakes somewhere in there, too.
What’s your current state of mind?
I’ve been going through a rough patch the last few months both personally and professionally. So I’m trying to be really intentional this summer about how I spend my time and energy. Re-focusing on the things and people that fill me up and letting go of everything else.
Why do you create music? – What’s more satisfying to you, the process or the outcome?
Process 100%. There’s truly no higher high for me than the moments when a song is starting to take shape. It’s like an out of body experience. Connor and I constantly get lost in the process and it’s just this addicting feeling. Don’t get me wrong, we love sharing new music. It’s magic when you play a new song out and someone shares a personal experience that relates. But I think the formal release of a song into the world can feel like slapping all these benchmarks and metrics onto something that really is beyond measure.
Do you create music primarily for yourself or for others?
It’s all about ME. I’m kidding. Except it is, really, about me. Whoops.
I guess what I mean is that I hardly ever write with other people’s opinions in mind. A mentor once gave some great advice, that the best way to write widely relatable songs is to get as personal and specific to you as humanly possible. So I always try to write with that in mind.
For anyone reading this who might not be out of the closet, were there any specific people, musicians, or resources that helped you find yourself as a queer individual?
This is going to be specifically unspecific but, for me, it was all about individual friends when I was first coming out. When you share this new part of your identity with a trusted friend and instead of turning their back on you, they reinforce their love and support for you, that changes everything. That process, repeated enough times, was truly the thing that made me start feel safe while exploring my identity.
What are your release and touring plans for the next year?
We have two new singles coming out later this year! We’re psyched, we think we’re writing our best music yet and can’t wait for you to hear it.
“But if I come up short like I fear/ Will you still be proud you brought me here?” is a lyric from your latest single, “I Am Here.” How have you found the challenges of pursuing a music career and how do you cope with the slow process of growth? With that, how do you define success?
Ugh, it’s hard, man! It sounds cliché, but really celebrating the little wins is everything. The thing is, I’ll never stop making music. Ever. I’m in it for the long haul, and I think that mentality helps when I’m frustrated by slow growth. Some seasons feel like rapid-fire while during others, the motivation is harder to find. But I think knowing that the opportunity to create will always be there helps relieve some of that pressure. I’m just trying to be kinder to myself in this area.
For me the definition of success has always been a moving target. When I was in high school, success in music meant selling out Madison Square Garden. Tour busses, the Grammys, our faces tattooed on your chest, etc. Today it looks a little different. I think if I can make a full-time living off of music, in all of its forms, that, to me, would be success. And the tattoos of course. Someone tattoo our faces on yourself already so I can feel successful!!
Drawing from another lyric from the single, “But a song I wrote, it changed one life/ And the friends I hold, I hold them tight,” do you feel that changing one life is enough to make all of your time, efforts, and pursuits worth it?
Does changing a single life make all the hours, the investment, the rejections, the crashing on couches, the blood, sweat, and tears worth it? No. Probably not. But it’s still worth reminding myself of every once in a while. It’s one of those little wins I talked about above.
I think this verse captures the essence of “I Am Here,” and really touches on the success question above. It’s admitting that no, life doesn’t necessarily look like I thought it would. But there are some absolutely beautiful, redeeming things about my new reality that I need to celebrate harder. And it’s the sum of all the hundreds and thousands of little things that does, in fact, make it all worth it.
Photo of Skout courtesy of Skout.
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