With a self-made story spanning from their founding in Montana down to Nashville and beyond, roots pop quartet TopHouse know the difference between “theory” and “practice” all too well. But with their intriguing new two-part recording project, they might be some of the first to capture that difference in song.
Comprised of Joe Larson (lead vocals/guitar), Jesse Davis (guitar, mandolin), William Cook (violin) and Andy Lafave (piano), the band first released the hopeful, eminently uplifting Theory EP in 2024, and have now followed up with Practice, which dropped on Valentine’s Day (February 14). But what is the difference, really?
Both EPs fuse grass-roots simplicity with an experimental spirit – plus a rush of kinetic Celtic and Appalachian influence, just for good measure. With nearly 10 years behind them, the band have seen periods of unbridled optimism just to get a gritty reality check in the end; their songs live somewhere in the middle. Over 12 tracks in total, they cycle through warm, everyman vocals, spacious sounds, and live-in lyrics, and seem to conclude the concepts aren’t really opposites at all – more like two sides of the same coin
Where Theory is bold, bright and optimistic, Practice might be darker and a bit more reflective. Yet both are part of the broader truth – and both continually feed off of each other. Speaking with BGS ahead of Practice’s release, Larson and Davis explained where the new six-song set comes from and how it contrasts with its Theory companion.
This whole idea I think is pretty ambitious. Why don’t you tell me how the Theory and Practice EPs came about? Where’d that idea come to split this thing into two parts?
Joe Larson: Honestly, it was kind of an accident. I think Jesse and I were just hanging out one day. … We really wanted to do a full-length LP and we probably had, I don’t know, 14 or 15 songs and we were trying to find a common thread and get some idea of what this album might look like, what the concept of it might be. It just felt natural to split them into two lists. We’re like, “Alright, over here these songs are all about ideals and just optimistic worldview and all that. And then you’ve got these other songs about heartbreak and hardship and all that.” We just put ‘em into two lists and went back and forth for what felt like an eternity trying to decide what to do with this information. Eventually we were like, “Well, let’s just do a double thing.”
Do you see Practice as a more pessimistic kind of project? Or is it something different?
Jesse Davis: I wouldn’t say pessimistic. I’d say realistic. I think with Theory being sort of the ideals, maybe Practice is how they land in the real world, and it’s not pessimistic either in the sense that the EP ends with a tinge of hope. We’re big fans of hope here at TopHouse-the-band, LLC, and the EP ends with a little tinge of hope – in sort of a recognition of this cycle of striving for an ideal, falling a bit short, and maybe you fall quite a ways short. But then you pick yourself back up again and it’s almost like it’s a practice in itself.
I think also the two EPs are supposed to go together in the sense that it’s not like you listen to Theory and then you’re like, “All right, now I’m going to listen to what’s actually true and listen to Practice.” They’re supposed to kind of be combined in the sense, “Okay, there’s Practice, but the Theory is just as important to apply to the Practice.” It’s like, “Yeah, the realistic hard nature of the world is going to kick you in the teeth, but there’s a hope that you should bring to all of that, and ideals and standards that can be applied even in the hardest moments.”
JL: You might say that Theory is fake optimism, and Practice is real optimism. [Laughs]
How is the sound evolving on this one. Your fans really love that uplifting mix of rootsy, Celtic/Appalachian stuff. Has the vibe changed at all?
JD: I remember Joe and I had always had in the back of our minds writing a cowboy EP. We’re fans of artists like Colter Wall and I don’t know what you’d call it – maybe new country or underground country, whatever the term is. We just always had a little soft spot for that kind of a tone, I guess. So while we weren’t setting out to do that with this EP, I think it inevitably bled through a bit. It’s funny because sometimes the sound doesn’t line up with the lyrical message, if that makes sense. But when it doesn’t, I think I kind of enjoy that all the more.
Do you feel like your Montana roots still show up in the band? Maybe just in the willingness to think outside the box a little?
JD: I definitely think so, and for me, I think a lot of that has to do with what I’m visualizing. Maybe it’s not necessarily a musical thing so much as just a lyrical thing. But I think maybe the biggest factor with the Montana connection is that I just miss Montana, so a lot of songs point to this idea of going home or having a place. It kind of feels like we’re all wandering around right now, being away from our roots, which I think many people probably know that feeling.
The EP starts on “Meteor” and it’s got this simple, spacious sound. I just wonder, how does the image of a meteor fit in with the overall theme?
JD: It’s definitely metaphorical – or wait, sorry. Technically, it’s a simile, because it features “like” or “as.” [Laughs] It’s definitely the feeling of coming crashing down. It’s one I wrote, just sitting with my acoustic guitar and kind of strumming, and I remember feeling like it was pretty cheesy at the time I was writing it, because it was just catharsis. But sometimes either your tastes grow or things just develop into something a little bit more.
After that you get into a little bit more energy with tracks like “I Don’t Wanna Move On.” Where did that come from?
JD: “I Don’t Wanna Move On” and “Meteor” are almost sister songs in that those were two I wrote. They were written roughly around the same time and I was feeling some kind of way. “Meteor” is simile. There’s a picture to it. But “I Don’t Wanna Move On” is more of the incessant feeling of not wanting to move on. The chorus is not very ornate in its lyricism. It’s literally just that phrase repeated four times. And I feel like that fits the way sometimes an emotion just won’t leave you alone.
You guys mentioned finishing on a hopeful note, and “Falling” is definitely that. A really dreamy, beautiful song about being in awe over the ability to fall in love again, right?
JD: I think a lot of us struggle with periods of – maybe even if it’s not a full-on depression, just like a numbness to the world or just struggling with feeling anything at all. I mean, I know I definitely go through these phases. …“Falling” is about that. You wake up one morning and you’re like, “Oh, I feel my heartbeat again.” I think I wrote that one coming out of one of those seasons and just being just so grateful to get to feel joy or hope. It was funny because it was supposed to be a depressing song and then I finished it and I was like, “Huh, it’s hopeful.” But that’s probably a good thing. [Laughs]
With it being so uplifting, why did you include it on Practice and not Theory?
JD: That was definitely very intentional, because at least to me I think viewing the real-life things in just a doom-and-gloom view is pretty detrimental. And I don’t think that that’s realistic either. I mean, I know we said that Practice is sort of the realistic album where things go wrong, but I think that realism also includes the Theory. Realism includes the things that we strive towards because that is just as much a part of our life as the breakup or the loss or the addiction. The good things in life are just as real as the bad things.
Also, I think fits with the cyclical nature of the two EPs. If you go back to what Theory ends with, it’s a song that kind of descends into questioning things about life and maybe has a bit of a somber attitude to it. And if you were to go straight from that song into Practice, I think the feeling would continue. Then, as you get through Practice, you get to “Falling” and there’s a tinge of hope. If you go back to Theory from there, it begins with a song called “Better is the End,” which is maybe the most forward-thinking, hopeful tune in the whole collection. So maybe I’m connecting dots that aren’t necessarily there, but honestly, the song order sort of fits with the idea of it being cyclical.
JL: Yeah. We’re just trying to get people to listen to the EPs on repeat forever. [Laughs]
Artist:Noeline Hofmann Hometown: Bow Island, Alberta, Canada Latest Album:Purple Gas EP
What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?
It’s nearly impossible to narrow down, but one of my favorite memories from the stage happened this October while on tour with Colter Wall. For the better part of the tour, Corb Lund – a fellow Western Canadian (like Colter and I) – was also on the road with us. I grew up listening to Corb on the radio back home and later discovered Colter as a teenager. Their songwriting resonated with and influenced me deeply as a young writer and continues to today.
Colter kindly invited us to join him in singing “Summer Wages” by Albertan cowboy legend, Ian Tyson, for his encore during tour. The first night that Corb joined us on stage, he took me by the arm for a two-step during the instrumental – much to mine and the crowd’s surprise. (Sorry about scuffing up your boots with my two left feet, Corb.) It was such a wonderful, full circle moment to be on stage beside two artists from home who had such a huge impact on me and singing a song together by a late legend from home who has impacted all of us.
Further, Patrick Lyons, the producer of my EP, Purple Gas, plays guitar in Colter’s band. Another reason that made these memories of singing “Summer Wages” special was it being the first time(s) I was lucky enough to share a stage with Pat as well as all of the other boys in the band, who I’ve come to know and love not only as musicians, but as friends.
Which elements of nature do you spend the most time with and how do those impact your work?
I love to spend time out on the prairie. It has an understated beauty that with every passing year becomes more and more striking to me. It is unforgiving. Seemingly never-ending. In tune and knowing. It’s seen my own blood, sweat, and tears and that of generations of people that I love, alike. I’ve never felt closer to God than I have out there, all alone. Being raised in a prairie town, around prairie people, the landscape and all that results due in part to it, has defined my life experience thus far in an immeasurable way – and consequently, impacted my work just as deeply.
What’s the most difficult creative transformation you’ve ever undertaken?
While I’ve been feeling incredibly inspired to write in the wake of releasing my first recording project, I think I am simultaneously in the midst of one of the most difficult creative transformations I’ve faced so far.
All of the songs on my debut EP were written during a very different time in my life; before I’d ever been on tour, or set foot in a studio, or before the music industry began revealing itself to me behind the thick veil of mystery that once clouded it from my gaze. I was working blue- and pink-collar jobs such as bartending and doing farm labor before eventually putting all of my cards on the table and giving a career in music an all-or-nothing go, starting with the regional music scene in Alberta. Those years, age 18 to 20, were raw and electric, reckless, trial by fire. I was full of piss and vinegar, stubbornly tuning out the expectations others had of me and striking out into the world for the very first times to try forging a path towards something more for myself in life. I confronted some shocking losses and also experienced those first great formative loves you do at that age. Environments and emotions that are natural recipes for songs.
My day-to-day life has pulled a complete 180 since those songs were written. I have a lot of writing to do from my new pair of boots. I haven’t been able to take them for many test drives behind the pencil while on tour this spring and summer and am waiting with bated breath for the winter, when I’ll get to sit down and really dig into writing and processing the last year. It’s in my nature to always want to step above the bar I last set for myself – it’s as nerve-wracking as it is exciting to be starting to write for the next project. Especially now that most of the surroundings and life circumstances that inspired the songs on my first project are no longer part of my daily life on the road and there is now a recorded precedent set that didn’t exist at the time I wrote the songs on my first body of work.
What is a genre, album, artist, musician, or song that you adore that would surprise people?
“Good Luck, Babe!” by Chappell Roan (of course!)
If you didn’t work in music, what would you do instead?
I would probably be a ranch hand. Ranching is humbling, creative, and requires your all – mind, body, and soul. You have to live and breathe it. I can’t do anything halfway. For two jobs that, on the outside, look as though they couldn’t be any more different from each other, I’ve found a surprising number of parallels between my experiences working on a ranch to working as an artist.
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What a joy to be asked to create a playlist for the Bluegrass Situation. It did not take long to land on the theme of Canadian music. The only difficult part was keeping it short. We have such a deep well of incredible Americana – or as some call it up here, ‘Canadiana’ – to pull from north of the border.
I struggled leaving out Neil Young, Joni Mitchell, and Gordon Lightfoot. But I hope to introduce BGS’s fine readership to some new music they might not already be hip to. I had to flex a little muscle and throw in a tune (a very Canadian one at that) by The Band. I would hope that a fair few of the folks digging into this playlist might be familiar with Ian Tyson, if only from his biggest number, “Four Strong Winds.” However, some might not be as acquainted with his cowboy records, the greatest of which is arguably Cowboyography.
Some of these folks you’ll find here are dear friends, others acquaintances, one is my big brother, a few are my heroes, all of them are among the finest songwriters on the planet. I hope that you will discover something new that you will love and cherish for years to come. What a pleasure it is to share the gift of music. – Bob Sumner
“Wide Open Plain” – Doug Paisley
Doug Paisley is a national treasure. A marvelous flatpicker. A songwriter’s songwriter. It is rare that I care to hear one of my favorite songs by an artist re-recorded. With “Wide Open Plain,” Doug takes a classic and reinvents it without losing the meat that made the original such a mainstay.
“Acadian Driftwood” – The Band
We here in Canada are very proud of the 4/5ths Canadian membership of one of the greatest bands to grace the airwaves. We love Levon, too, of course. A lot.
“Trucker Speed” – Fred Eaglesmith
Fred Eaglesmith at his finest here in all of his ragged glory. When Fred sings you believe him.
“Cut Fence (Let God Sort Em Out)” – Richard Inman
Inman is a remarkable songwriter. Here he is telling the story of a ranch fire. “Cut fence, let God sort em out, let them horses all run free.”
“All I Know” – Elliot C Way
Recorded in a tiny farm house. With intention Elliot captured the loose groove of Link Wray’s self titled record. Fiddle, acoustic guitar, steel and poetry.
“Dayton” – Fiver
Fiver (Simone Schmidt) is a terrifying artist. An artist whom every time I listen to her music I am reminded of why I began writing songs. For the songs themselves. Art for art’s sake. Purity.
“That Sweet Orchestra Song” – Kacy & Clayton
Pure joy, this track. Kacy’s soaring, meandering, frankly perfect vocal dancing atop cousin Clayton’s singular virtuosic guitar work.
“Lonnie’s on rhythm, Bud Romanski’s on bass/ McGlynn plays the steel guitar/ Commence with a four-count and the crack of a drum/ Turn around at the end of the bar…”
What fun.
“Empty Husk” – Daniel Romano
Exquisitely beautiful. Bold. I have a hunch if we opened up and had a peek inside Daniel Romano we might find an alien being, or a cyborg. It just doesn’t track that one man could be so incredibly exceptional at whatever it is he sets his heart and mind to.
“Born in Spring” – Chaya Harvey
You heard her here first. Bask in the joy of being in the club. Chaya won’t be underground for long. Soon she will be breaking hearts the world over with her tender and vulnerable voice of an angel.
“The Place I Left Behind” – The Deep Dark Woods
If you know, then you know. If The Woods are new to you, then boy are you in for a treat. A deep discography lay before you full of sonic riches.
“Summer Wages” – Ian Tyson
A finer cowboy singer you won’t find the world over. The author of “Four Strong Winds.” Here he is with “Summer Wages,” a gem of a song. Bobby Bare recorded an excellent version of this one on his 1981 record, As Is.
“For a Long While” – Colter Wall
It seems the more the world asks of Colter Wall, the more he would prefer to retreat to cowboy work on his Canadian prairie ranch. This one is from his latest record of cowboy songs, Little Songs. A beauty of a tune.
“Too Late” – Ben Arsenault
Ben Arsenault has just released a masterclass of a classic country record. These songs have it all. One after the other. The refrain, “It’s too late now, it was too late then/ it’s too late, it’s always been’/” will roll around in your head long after the needle leaves the vinyl. A shiny little nugget of country gold.
“Motel Room” – Bob Sumner
People seem to be diggin’ this one. It grooves. It hooks. Dobro, fiddle, telecaster. If words are your thing, they’re here too. An old friendship trying to survive the wilds of alcoholism. Nostalgia. Reminiscing.
“Bad Habits” – Johnny 99
Vibes. Johnny 99 gets the vibes. This one goes well with a late night toke. Only Johnny 99 (well, maybe Snoop) could get away with the lyric, “Yeah, I’m talking ’bout that weed smoke.”
“Born to Lose” – Brian Sumner
My big brother Brian. Years ago, his wife from his first marriage left quite suddenly. Brian holed up in their empty apartment and wrote a record. The songs run the gamut of the mourning process. Anger, sadness, forgiveness, understanding. Finally this incredible collection of songs has seen the light of day with Brian’s quiet little release of the demo’s from that time.
No matter where you look in the history of country music, you’ll find some common themes – working-class stories, banjos, an appreciation for the simple life. But there’s something else fans of country music then and now all seem to love, and that’s a deep, rich singing voice.
In this roundup, we’ve gathered just 10 of the all-time best deep voices in country music, from smooth baritones to booming basses. Whether you’re a fan of outlaw country, pop country, or something a bit more classic, there’s a voice for you on this list.
Amythyst Kiah
Combining elements of Americana, old-time, folk, and country, Amythyst Kiah has spent the past decade proving she has one of the most powerful deep voices in roots music. Whether she’s sharing an arrangement of a traditional ballad or innovating Americana, Kiah brings her unique, rich, and haunting voice to everything she does. Her song “Black Myself” even earned her a Grammy nomination in 2020 for “Best American Roots Song.”
Accompanied only by banjo, Kiah’s take on the traditional ballad “Darlin’ Cory” highlights the literal and emotional depth of her one-of-a-kind voice.
Waylon Jennings
Known as a pioneer of outlaw country, Waylon Jennings got his start in country music when he was just a 14-year-old kid in Texas. He then spent six decades gracing the world with his soothing baritone voice, earning himself a permanent place in country music history – and the Country Music Hall of Fame. Alongside frequent collaborators Willie Nelson, Kris Kristofferson, and Johnny Cash, Jennings recorded some of the most legendary songs in the modern country canon, including “Highwayman” and “Mammas Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys.” Jennings passed away in 2002, but his deep and powerful voice remains one of the most recognizable sounds in country music.
Scotty McCreery
Newer to the scene, North Carolina-born Scotty McCreery got his industry start in 2011 after winning the 10th season of American Idol. Since then, he’s enjoyed a successful career as a country singer-songwriter – he even became a Grand Ole Opry member earlier this year – thanks largely to his smooth, deep vocals. Fitting in perfectly with the modern Nashville sound, McCreery’s most recent single, “Cab in a Solo,” showcases this young country star’s keen skill as a baritone crooner.
Orville Peck
A mysterious character in the alt-country realm, Orville Peck has one of the most stunning deep voices in country music, genre-wide. Boasting an impressive vocal range (baritone to falsetto), Peck is best known for his resounding lower register. Teaming up with country stars like Midland and Sheryl Crow, Peck has quickly made a name for himself since the release of his debut album, Pony, just five years ago. Inspired by ’60s- and ’70s country (à la Jennings and his collaborator, Willie Nelson), Peck’s brooding, emotive, and theatrical voice is a must-hear for appreciators of high-quality baritone country singers.
Trace Adkins
First rising to fame in the mid-’90s, Trace Adkins continues to reign as a big name in pop country. His gruff-yet-soothing voice sounds like a day on the farm in the hot sun — and that’s exactly why he’s on this list. A songwriter, singer, and dynamic performer, Adkins wields an unmistakable baritone voice that helped shape the sound and direction of Nashville in recent decades. If you’re looking for a chance to relive the glory days of early pop country, Adkins has the voice you’re looking for.
Randy Travis
One of the most popular country singers of all time, Randy Travis is known for his earnest songwriting style and velvet-smooth baritone voice. After getting his start in the 1980s, Travis recorded over 20 albums and charted on the Billboard Hot Country Songs chart over 50 times. In 2013, he experienced a tragic, life-altering stroke, affecting his ability to sing and perform. With the help of AI, producers recently teamed up with Travis to record and release his first new single in over a decade, “Where That Came From.” Using AI to combine past existing recordings of Travis’s vocals with contributions from another singer, James Dupre, the new single captures the singer’s spirit and depth, giving listeners a newfound opportunity to appreciate a living legend.
Johnny Cash
Let’s be real: This list would not be complete without Johnny Cash. Arguably the most famous country music star to ever live, Johnny Cash is known near and far for his deep, rich voice that straddled the border between baritone and bass. Cash had a storyteller’s voice, and he used it proudly to tell the stories others weren’t telling. As time went on, Cash’s voice settled into its lower register, which can be heard on his final non-posthumous album American IV: The Man Comes Around. But there’s no better way to showcase the rumbling voice of Johnny Cash than through his infamous recording of “Folsom Prison Blues,” recorded live at Folsom State Prison in 1968.
Jim Reeves
One of the forefathers of country music, Jim Reeves wielded one of the most beautiful baritone voices in the genre. A true crooner and country & western artist, Jim Reeves’s voice is smooth, deep, and unforgettable. Arguably the most technically accomplished singer on this list, Reeves topped the country charts throughout the ’50s, ’60s, ’70s, and ’80s. A dynamic and masterful baritone with a gentle stage presence, Reeves played a huge role in shaping the sound of Nashville and his influence is still felt today.
Colter Wall
Canadian singer-songwriter Colter Wall released his first single, “The Devil Wears a Suit and Tie,” in 2015 when he was just 20 years old. Showcasing Wall’s impossibly deep and weathered voice, the single swiftly launched the young artist into the limelight, mostly via a live performance video on YouTube. Treading the country and Americana borderlands, Wall has one of those voices that makes you think, “How is that sound coming out of that person?”
Since his debut, Wall has released five full-length albums, including his 2023 release, Little Songs. Throughout his catalogue, Wall never misses a beat or fails to remind us that he has one of the deepest and richest bass voices in country.
Josh Turner
For Josh Turner, bass singing is old hat. He grew up singing bass parts in church choirs and gospel quartets, then debuting at the Grand Ole Opry when he was just 24. Now in his 40s, Turner has spent over half his life making waves in the industry as one of the only true bass singers in the genre — and a top-notch one at that. In May 2024, Turner released a brand-new single, “Heatin’ Things Up,” proving he still deserves the title of the man with the most satisfying deep voice in country.
Photo Credit: Johnny Cash courtesy of JohnnyCash.com.
Few words stir up conflict in country music circles the way “authenticity” does. While debates over authenticity rage within every corner of the arts, the tension is especially potent in country, whose unofficial tagline is, after all, a commitment to honest simplicity: “Three chords and the truth.” While “truth” can be a broad umbrella to work under, within country music it tends to encompass a longstanding commitment to sharing the stories and experiences of everyday people, in particular those of the rural working class.
Accordingly, an adherence to and celebration of the very concept of authenticity – nebulous as it may be – is as baked into country music culture as an anti-establishment sentiment is inherent to punk music. Listen to country radio, though, and you might have a hard time finding it, particularly as the bro country of the mid-teens, though finally waning in popularity, still dominates the majority of terrestrial country airwaves.
It’s 2024, though, and it’s way past time to declare that country radio is irrelevant. Glance at Billboard’s Hot Country Songs chart, which includes sales and streaming data alongside airplay, and you’ll see the top spot isn’t occupied by one of the usual radio favorites like Luke Bryan, Morgan Wallen, or even Luke Combs, the latter of whom has notably found a way to straddle the line between commercial success and critical acclaim.
Rather, at the time of this writing the number one country song in America is “I Remember Everything,” a duet between the relatively new artist Zach Bryan and one of the genre’s more adventurous stars, Kacey Musgraves. As a song, “I Remember Everything” isn’t necessarily groundbreaking. Bryan’s and Musgraves’ voices play nicely off one another, with his achy grit contrasting sweetly with her smooth twang. The production is simple, underdone even, and lyrically the track travels well-trod territory: romantic heartbreak.
So, what, then, has kept “I Remember Everything” firmly situated in that top spot for 14 straight weeks (and counting)?
If you’ve paid even the least bit of attention to country music in the last couple of years, you’ve no doubt encountered Zach Bryan and his genuinely singular approach to the genre. With his raw sound, confessional lyrics, and decidedly DIY approach to business, Bryan radiates the kind of authenticity that fans crave. He joins a host of other recently established and emerging artists – including but not limited to Tyler Childers, Lainey Wilson, Colter Wall, and Billy Strings – who found success by foregoing the traditional route to country stardom, one that typically involves following an out-of-date formula honed over time by profit-driven record labels.
Zach Bryan debuted with DeAnn in 2019, finding an audience online thanks to the viral success of “Heading South” on DeAnn’s follow-up Elisabeth. He quickly built a fanbase on TikTok and YouTube before releasing his 2022 breakout LP, American Heartbreak, which had more opening week streams than any other country album that year. In the lead-up to American Heartbreak, Bryan, who served as an active-duty member of the U.S. Navy for eight years, was honorably discharged in 2021 so he could pursue music in earnest.
In addition to topping charts, American Heartbreak set itself apart from the rest of the year’s crop with its unadorned production, heavily narrative songwriting, and sheer ambition – the record clocks in at a lofty 34 tracks, with less filler than one would anticipate. The album’s biggest single, “Something in the Orange,” earned Bryan a Grammy nomination for Best Country Solo Performance and, for a time, landed him atop Billboard’s Top Songwriters chart.
That record, along with a handful of EPs and loosies released in between, teed Bryan up for his 2023 self-titled LP, a much more focused effort (a mere 16 tracks!) that found Bryan firmly situated as a real-deal country star, one who can tap the likes of Musgraves, the War and Treaty, Sierra Ferrell, and the Lumineers to come join the proceedings. While it no doubt shows the depth of his rolodex, that guest roster also points at the breadth of Bryan’s influence, as each artist comes from a different part of the broader country/Americana ecosystem.
‘First ever’ is fuckn insane, one of the best songwriters to ever do it https://t.co/GdkuWiWDvq
And while he considers himself a country artist, Bryan’s roots are more indebted to the folk-rock revival of the late-aughts and early teens, when acoustic acts like Mumford & Sons and the Lumineers grew so big as to cross over into Top 40, eventually helping spur an explosion in popularity for Americana and roots-adjacent music. It’s fitting, then, that the Lumineers feature on Zach Bryan, joining on the track “Spotless” so seamlessly it isn’t always easy to tell who is singing: Bryan or Lumineers frontman Jeremiah Fraites.
It’s on these collaborations, in particular, that you can hear Bryan’s joy at being able to do what he loves. His vocals are raw, but never phoned in; in fact, sometimes he seems to be straining so hard to communicate a particular emotion that you worry his voice will give out. It never does.
In other words, Bryan is a fan’s musician, one who geeks out about his favorite artists the way his own fans do about him. In a post about the duo the War and Treaty, who joined Bryan on the standout Zach Bryan cut “Hey Driver,” he writes, “I can tell you the first time I heard War and Treaty live and I looked to the person next to me and said, ‘Are you hearing this?’ I talked to them later that night and they were the kindest couple I’d ever met.” In the same post, he says of the Lumineers, “I can tell you about how when my Mom went on home I got the Lumineers tattoo on my tricep after hearing ‘Long Way From Home’ for the first time and how Wes [Schultz] and Jeremiah are some of the most welcoming humans I’ve ever met.”
This post points to a major piece of both Bryan’s appeal and the air of authenticity that surrounds him: His direct line of communication with his fans. He manages his social media accounts himself and is no stranger to getting vulnerable in his messaging, often posting progress updates on new songs he’s working on or taking a moment to express gratitude for his success. For fans, it’s almost like there are no barriers between them and Bryan, which reinforces the relatability at the core of his music.
The beating heart of Zach Bryan, for me, is “East Side of Sorrow,” a song that grapples with hope and religious faith by connecting the grief Bryan felt after losing his mother to his time being shipped overseas while serving in the Navy. Despite – or perhaps because of – these vivid references to specific experiences, like being “shipped… off in a motorcade” and losing his mother “in a waiting room after sleeping there for a week or two,” the song is deeply emotional and relatable, a wrenching but empowering anthem encouraging the hopeless to try to keep it moving. These days, you’d be hard-pressed to find someone who couldn’t use such a message, this writer included – Apple Music tells me it was my most-played song of 2023.
It would be – and for a lot of folks, already is – easy to accept Bryan’s every word, to believe that his hardscrabble songs about “rot-gut whiskey” and manual labor are honest reflections of the life he’s lived and the person he is. Then there’s the cynical interpretation, that Bryan’s anti-marketing is, actually, still marketing, that a young musician could only know so much of the realities of the struggle of the working class, that it’s the same twang to a different tune. Bryan has, after all, had a few bumps along his road to fame, including some less than flattering encounters with police that negate his humble personal.
But the truth, as it so often is, is likely somewhere in the middle. With such personal material, it’s easy to trace one of Bryan’s songs to its point of inspiration – “East Side of Sorrow,” for example, is undoubtedly ripped right out of his lived experience. And Bryan isn’t afraid to admit the gaps in his experience, like when on “Tradesman” he sings, “The only callous I’ve grown is in my mind.” Compare that to, say, the sheer tone deafness of a song like Blake Shelton’s “Minimum Wage” and Bryan’s instances of stretching the truth feel trivial.
Bryan is only the latest in a long line of country artists for whom authenticity is both a blessing and a curse. Genre giants like Johnny Cash and Waylon Jennings are often held up as unimpeachably authentic pillars of the genre, despite weathering their own brushes with the authenticity police earlier in their careers. And these debates, which tend to center white, straight, cisgender men, aren’t nearly as hostile in their scrutiny as they are for marginalized artists, against whom the idea of authenticity is typically wielded as a gatekeeping weapon.
Wherever you fall on Zach Bryan, it’s hard to deny that the gravel-voiced, baby-faced boy from Oklahoma has changed the very fabric of contemporary country music. What he does with that power moving forward could break the genre open for good, making space for artists with unusual paths, atypical backgrounds and a disregard for the flavor of the week. If Zach Bryan is who he says he is, he may very well do it.
In advance of the release of Vincent Neil Emerson’s latest, critically-acclaimed album, The Golden Crystal Kingdom – which dropped on November 10 – BGS moderated a conversation between VNE and his friend and peer, country & western singer-songwriter and song-interpreter Charley Crockett.
Both artists cut their teeth in music venues in Texas a decade ago. In our conversation, they tell the story of how they came to know each other and discuss ways they protect each other within the business. They talk about covering and cutting each other’s songs and the importance of telling their truths.
Emerson’s new album, produced by Shooter Jennings, veers his sound toward warm ’60s rock and folk influences. He opens up to Charley and BGS about its creation process and what is on the horizon for him.
Charley Crockett: What’s up, Vincent?
Vincent Neil Emerson: What’s up, my boy?
CC: Another day, another dollar.
BGS: Tell me where you both are in the world right now.
VNE: I’m in Asheville, North Carolina, right now, at an Airbnb.
CC: I’m up here in San Luis Valley in Southern Colorado.
Both really nice places to be in the fall.
VNE: You ain’t wrong.
Can you give us a little bit of context about your relationship, where you know each other from, and how long you have been working together?
VNE: Charley, you wanna go?
CC: Oh man, I always tell that story; I wanna hear it from you.
VNE: I met Charley in Deep Ellum. We were playing around town, playing a lot of shows around there and Fort Worth. That was over 10 years ago, maybe?
CC: I was trying to think about it this morning. I think it had to be ’13 or ’14.
VNE: That’s crazy, man.
CC: He remembers it being at Adair Saloon; I remember it being at the Freeman. It really don’t matter, ’cause I’m sure it was both places.
VNE: I’m sure we went and had a drink at Adairs or something like that.
CC: I remember I walked up on him and said, “I like all them Justin Townes Earle songs.” And he said, “I only played one.” I always liked what he was doing, and he used to play solo and do the guitar pools up at Magnolia Motor Lounge all the time. He’d be up there smoking a cigarette, picking through them songs like Townes Van Zandt, and I thought, “Oh lord have mercy, this boy is a force to be reckoned with.”
VNE: Man, I felt the same way as soon as I heard you, brother. I remember a couple of nights I saw you at the Freeman with this band. You had a bunch of guys up on that tiny little stage, and you were just ripping through all these songs, taking all these old honky tonk songs and flipping them on their head and turning them into blues and vice versa. I always thought that was so cool, man.
CC: I don’t remember that well, but I guess you’re right. In those days, every gig we played for both me and Vincent, we ended up getting booked by the same folks, or they were all standing together in some bar, no matter if it was Ft. Worth or Nashville or Los Angeles. One way or another, all them same business folks been standing pretty close to me and Vincent. And that’s the truth.
Well, that’s convenient if you like to work together, I guess. Charley, do you have questions you want to dig in on?
CC: You know, Erin, I don’t even know what the hell we are doing?
Let’s talk about the release of Vincent’s new album.
CC: Well, let me just do this then. Everything he’s been putting out with Shooter [Jennings], like everything else he’s ever done…If you sit there looking at Vincent and he surprises you, it’s like, “Oh damn, I didn’t know old boy was gonna do that.” The very next thing he does, it just happens again — every single time. I remember when he was playing “7 Come 11” way before anybody gave a damn about him and was looking out for his interests or his career. He had all them songs in his pocket way before anybody had ideas or designs on him and his business. I’ve said for a long time that “7 Come 11” is one of the best folk songs written out of Texas in 20 years. Remember Central Track, Vincent?
VNE: Yeah, they did a lot of write-ups on music.
CC: I will never forget that stuff when you did that record and what you were doing live. Erin, he was playing for 50 bucks and a case of Lone Star in them dive bars in Fort Worth, you know? He was living in a 10×10 room. He was hardly ever even standing inside of the damn joint.
A handful of us showed up at the same time, and we are all moving on our own paths, but we’ve all stayed pretty close, or we damn sure weave it together quite a bit even if we get way out there, you know, in the territories, we always come back to each other. I think I met Leon Bridges right around the same time that I met Vincent. I met him in Deep Ellum, too. There is a guy who plays guitar with me now named Alexis Sanchez. He had a band back then, and he was playing at Club Dada there for some little festival, and Leon Bridges was standing there in a trench coat and a bowler hat. I venture to guess that me and Leon and Vincent met each other damn near about the same time. There were a lot of other folks like that. Ten years later, especially for some Texas guys, you know, we’ve all grown a lot, and I think we have always supported each other and loved each others’ music. That’s only grown, and Vincent is standing there as one of the premier, original, authentic talents to come out of Texas since the turn of the damn century. I’m not blowing smoke. I’m just stating what is already happening.
VNE: Man, that is high praise. I appreciate you sayin’ that, Charley.
CC: Well, they want all this shit to write about it, but that’s just the truth. He was playing in Fort Worth and like I said, playing for all that low money. They were calling him Lefty. Why did they call you Lefty? I figured it was because you had a black eye or something.
VNE: Yeah, I had my left eye knocked out of the socket one time, and the nickname stuck for a while.
CC: I remember they wrote about you pretty salaciously there in the Fort Worth Weekly. I know a thing or two about that myself.
VNE: I would say it was because they were trying to sell papers, but it was a free publication.
CC: Shit, they are selling advertisements. I think the Dallas Observer is still doing that to me.
He was playing them bars, we were playing them bars. I don’t know which one of us is which, but more often than not, he sure seems like if I’m Waylon, he’s Willie. I have felt like that for a long time. You could change the names. I think about this stuff a lot. The business folks, it is always hard to tell what they are doing, but you can be sure they are rolling dice and betting and gambling on folks. It ends up being, a guy like Vincent that somebody like me can lean on a lot more. We can trust those guys, and I’m real happy with who I’m working with, and I’m sure Vincent is, too. It is the other artists living life for the song that gets us through. I know I feel like that about Vincent, and I feel like that about a lot of other guys I don’t know as well as him.
Kind of like Johnny Cash said, “We are all family, even though some of us barely know each other.” I think it is because we can see each other and know we are in the same boat and in that way, care more for each other than other people would. I think it is pretty serious. It is life and death.
VNE: That’s a good feeling to not feel so alone in that way and have people out there and doing things similar to you. They probably think a lot of the same thoughts. Me and you are good buddies, Charley, and I feel that way, too. I feel like some guys out there like Tyler Childers – I really respect him, and I feel like he is in the same boat as us. I’m not as well known as you guys, but I think none of that really matters. I think what it comes down to is that we are all songwriters trying to make our own stories happen and be true to ourselves and honest to the world. I think that the reason we can relate to each other is the same reason the fans can relate. Honesty will cut through anything and bring people together.
CC: One way or another, them folks we are selling tickets to, they know.
VNE: You can’t fake the funk, I guess.
CC: Eventually, it comes through. Speaking of Tyler Childers, we ended up on the same plane flying from Nashville to Austin recently… I was there for the Country Music Hall of Fame induction and I didn’t want to go. I get real antisocial and want to hide out from everybody and shit, and I went to Nashville kicking and screaming. Tanya Tucker was getting inducted to the Hall of Fame with a couple of other people. Patty Loveless and Bob McDill, who I wasn’t that familiar with. I had thought that he’d written the Jimmy C. Newman song, “Louisiana Saturday Night”, which I know real well. To be honest with you, it is the only reason I agreed to go out there, ’cause I love singing that song. I made a lot of money writing songs off of that song, so I figured I owed whoever the songwriter was. Long story short, there in the last week, I found out it was a different “Louisiana Saturday Night,” regularly mistakenly attributed to Bob McDill cause he wrote a totally separate song called “Louisiana Saturday Night” that Mel McDaniel had a big hit with, and that’s the one that goes,
“Well, you get down the fiddle and you get down the bow Kick off your shoes and you throw ’em on the floor Dance in the kitchen ’til the mornin’ light Louisiana Saturday night”
That was a big ol hit, right Vincent? He did “Baby’s Got Her Blue Jeans On,” and a bunch of shit like that that I just didn’t realize. My naive, ignorant ass goes up there to Nashville kicking and screaming, and that’s how I feel. A horse gets led to water or something like that. I saw Tanya get inducted. I damn near built my career off of my version of “Jamestown Ferry” when I was younger, and I realized that she had blazed that trail for me, and I had not shown her enough respect. I really hadn’t. Same thing with Bob McDill. All those songs he wrote and the advice he gave in his speech, and my dumbass could really shut up and pay attention to these folks.
Then I ran into Tyler going from there. He was flying to Austin to do a John Prine tribute. That’s how it is. When I see Tyler, I’m on a plane. When I see Vincent, it is at Monterey Fairgrounds. We are ships passing in the night. All these guys like Tyler, Colter [Wall], Leon, Vincent. Whenever I see them, they got a big light around them, and it is shining. You just want it to keep shining for them, and for myself, to keep it going,
I don’t know exactly where you want to go with this, Erin, but I’m excited about this record. Shooter was telling me about your songs and offered to send them and I was like, “No, I ain’t gonna do that. I wanna be like everyone else.” I wanna watch this thing get rolled out, and I wanna be excited. I’m looking forward to going through the songs.
Vincent, can you tell us about working with Shooter on this record?
VNE: I met Shooter a few times. Me and Charley were at this festival in Iowa hanging out, and Shooter came up to me and tapped me on the shoulder. I’d met him before at another festival but I’d never talked to him. He turned me around and said, “Hey man, I really like that thing you did with Rodney Crowell.” He paid me a lot of compliments, and since then, we talked, and when it came time to make another record, Shooter was the first guy I thought of. I thought it would be such a cool idea to work with him on an album. One thing about him is he really is one of the nicest people I’ve ever met, and he is a genuine fan of music. He’s trying to make cool things happen. I’m so lucky I got to work with him on it. That is the big takeaway from the whole thing for me was making a real good friend like that and meeting someone who gets me excited about songwriting and about making an album and making music in general.
Since Charley cut “7 Come 11” and you cut one of Charley’s songs for this record, can you talk about what prompted “Time of the Cottonwood Trees” winding up in this pile of songs?
VNE: Oh man – that song. Me and you were on tour together for three months, was it last summer? We did a bunch of dates, and we were on the road a long time, and I was listening to Charley do that song every night. It was a brand new song that hadn’t come out on his record yet. I got to hear him sing that song every night by himself, and I just think it is one of the best songs I’ve ever heard. It is one of my favorites from you, Charley. I think it is a fine example of songwriting. When it came time to make this album, I always wanted to pay tribute to you and cut one of your songs on a record because you cut “7 Come 11.” That really ties back into that whole Willie and Waylon and all those old timers who cut each others’ songs and lifted each other up like that. I just wanted to pay tribute to you, and that’s why I put it on the album.
CC: Shit, I appreciate it. I’ll be excited to get the check in the mail. You surprised the hell out of me with that one, you really did. I’ve always wanted people to cut my songs. Sometimes, I think I’d be better off that way. I have so many. I’ve always cut a lot of songs that weren’t mine, probably about half of them. And I got about a 250-song catalog of published shit. I would guess about 40-50% are songs I didn’t write. I feel like I’ve caught a lot of heat for that. People have an idea about me that I never wrote a single song. I think that’s because we live in an era where, like what Vincent was talking about, where all those folks back in the day, across genres, and it wasn’t just country it was pop, folk, soul, R&B. It was everything. Everyone was cutting each other’s songs. I just really think that to write a great song, you have to learn great songs from other people.
You have to watch out for these publishers these days. They’ll just put any piece of junk out as long as they’ve got control over it. They figured out they can make money selling junk. If you can make more money than ever before selling junk and you aren’t principled, and you aren’t that close to the music, well, they don’t see the reason not to do it that way. I think it feels like a renaissance.
VNE: Specifically in the genre of country music, there is a lot of junk out there. I don’t want to put anyone down. Most of the time, I just try to ignore whatever I don’t like. I think that’s the best way to go about it. I think there is room at the table for everybody, whatever you are into. I just think it is so cool that Sturgill and Charley and Colter and Tyler, all these other guys that are out here putting out real, honest-to-goodness songwriter songs. And not just that, but real country music. It doesn’t matter if it is your song or someone else’s; if you are telling that story honestly, I think that’s great. I’ve always appreciated you for that, Charley. I think you are a great interpreter of songs, and I think you are an even better songwriter, man.
CC: Damn, I’m glad I talked to y’all this morning. I feel better.
I’m glad that we are talking about cutting songs because that is such a huge part of country music, interpreting other people’s songs or reinterpreting a song. It feels like that art was lost in the past 20 years or so and it is having a resurgence. I’m excited that you guys are at the forefront of that, because great songs have more than one life. And it is an opportunity for songwriters to make more money.
VNE: I think it is one of the greatest compliments that a songwriter could receive – to have an artist who they love and respect cut one of their songs.
CC: There is no question about that. That is the best feeling.
VNE: It is, cause you know that your songs has legs and can go places that you can’t, which is a great feeling.
CC: It really is. It is such a political world, and it is so divided. There is a lot of pressure on people that you step out there into the great mirror of society, and the more out there in front of the public that you get, there is a mirror that starts projecting on you, and it is tough to deal with. It is hard to know what to do, but the thing about it is – being able to write honest songs and tell the truth in your writing; that is the most rewarding feeling. That is why I always look forward to what Vincent is doing. There aren’t a whole lot of people that I anticipate their new works as much as him, if anybody really. That’s the whole deal. You look over, and he’s writing better and better, and it makes me want to write better, too.
Speaking of, Vincent, can you talk a bit about your writing process for this record?
VNE: I kind of pieced together songs over time. Sometimes they jump out real fast; sometimes it takes a while. And thanks for saying that Charley, brother. Damn.
CC: I’ve been saying it for 10 years.
VNE: That’s kept me going a lot of times and I don’t think you realize that. These songs – damn, what was I saying?
CC: You were saying sometimes they come quick, sometimes they come slow.
VNE: I’m very influenced by the music that I’m listening to and that is why I try to be real careful about what I listen to. I think it is like if I’m making a smoothie. I gotta put certain ingredients in my brain, and it comes out me on the other end, hopefully. I was listening to a lot of Neil Young and Steven Stills and David Crosby. A lot of the ’60s rock and roll and a lot of Bob Dylan stuff. That’s just where I was in my headspace, so I was taking in all that. I try to put it all together to make it my own. That’s where I was at when I was making this album.
By the way, I’m excited about this rodeo we are playing together, Charley.
CC: Oh shit yeah! At the Virgin Theater there? Yeah man, I’m excited about it, too. Thanks for doing it.
VNE: Thanks for having me on.
CC: When it comes to money and shit like that, just any time, whatever you gotta do to make it work cause I wanna keep playing with you as much as we can and build up. I’ve played in some arenas recently, and I really don’t like it. I don’t know if country music belongs in arenas. And I just mean opening. I can’t sell tickets to no damn arena. And I take a cue from Colter cause he and Tyler and them boys, they could be in arenas all day long if they wanted to be. I would rather play rodeos and municipal auditoriums and really special theaters and stack ‘em up. I think we need to get a goddamned Dripping Springs reunion tour going. A real one.
VNE: Man, that’d be great.
CC: You know what I mean, just do some of our own shit. My aunt and uncle and a bunch of people who haven’t been out to see me play in a long time are coming out to Vegas. I used to live with my uncle when I was a kid in Louisiana and Mississippi and shit. He’s gonna flip his shit when he sees you.
VNE: I can’t wait, man, I’ve heard so many stories about him.
CC: He’s wild. We gonna show these folks what country music actually sounds like. They might not be able to tell who is left or right. Nahhh I’m just kidding it is a bunch of cool people.
Thank y’all for letting me be a part of this. I’m just happy to help out or talk about this. I’m real excited about the album for real. The imagery in your writing, man, it’s like everything you write is getting more and more vivid. You paint such a picture. I’ll stop blowing smoke up your ass.
I’m gonna get back on the trail and Vincent, I’ll talk to you soon.
VNE: Thank you for doing this brother, I appreciate you.
Since food and music go so well together, what is your dream pairing of a meal and a musician?
Right now, I’m listening to the new Tyler Childers record a lot and it’s starting to warm up so I’ve been out at the smoker a few times a week. So I’d probably say Tyler Childers and a brisket this week.
Which elements of nature do you spend the most time with and how do those impact your work?
I live out on a little farm and spend most of my days outside, if I’m not in the studio. Lots of long walks through the fields and the little woods bordering them. I do a lot of foraging for mushrooms and herbs out there, bonfires most nights with friends and my brother. It’s where I do most of my writing. Being surrounded by the outdoors finds its way into most of my songs, mostly through imagery.
What has been the best advice you’ve received in your career so far?
I think the best advice I’ve been given so far is that it’s more important to be constantly creating and writing new material and growing as an artist than it is to chase perfection in one song or one album. I try to create, release, move on, to keep things feeling fresh.
What other art forms — literature, film, dance, painting, etc. — inform your music?
I do a lot of reading, mostly old books, lots of 1800s fairy tales and old Westerns. I think the more I read, the more I write, so I try to keep things circulating.
How often do you hide behind a character in a song or use “you” when it’s actually “me”?
I think about 50% of the songs are personal and 50% are stories. I’ve always liked creating characters based off of the people around me and writing them stories, I think that’s why there are so many names in my songs. But I think it’s no more hiding than a book author hides behind their characters. It’s all just storytelling.
The whimsical world of the North American West has been the subject of countless stories, songs, and other pieces of art. Following the footsteps of many before him, Colter Wall continues to synthesize the lifestyle, culture, landscape, beauty, and complexity of the contemporary cowboy into song. Born in Saskatchewan, Canada, Wall often writes about the northern ends of the great plains, but the delivery of his music through folky instrumentation and a rich, sultry voice steps right in line with classic cowboy music of the American West.
In two singles released last fall on La Honda Records, Wall pulls no punches in songs about the realities of the modern Wild West, which are not always as romantic as pop culture may portray. His songs are earthy and rich, telling the hard truths about the beauty, isolation, comfort, and desolation surrounding his home and ranch in Southwest Saskatchewan. The two releases — an original titled “Cypress Hills and the Big Country” and a cover of Cowboy Jack Clement’s “Let’s All Help the Cowboys (Sing the Blues)” — follow his 2020 album, Western Swings & Waltzes and Other Punchy Songs.
With the focus on strings and his resonant baritone, Wall recorded and produced the songs at Jereco Studios in Bozeman, Montana, with engineer Luke Scheeler. The sessions also included familiar musicians Patrick Lyons and Jake Groves, who have been frequent collaborators and have toured in Wall’s band, The Scary Prairie Boys. Kicking things off in Texas, Wall embarks on a sold-out tour across the United States in January and February with support from Brennen Leigh, Zach McGinn, and Vincent Neil Emerson on various dates. Meanwhile, check out his two newest releases below.
Artist:Whitehorse (Luke Doucet and Melissa McClelland) Hometown: Toronto, although the band was conceived while we were living in Hamilton, Ontario — and we’re temporarily living in Winnipeg, Manitoba, for a year. I know… simple question; complicated answer. Latest Album:I’m Not Crying, You’re Crying (out January 13, 2023) Rejected Band Names: Yellowknife (also a city in the north of Canada)
Which artist has influenced you the most … and how?
Our band and this record in particular (I’m Not Crying, You’re Crying) was really informed and inspired by our long love affair with Gram Parsons and Emmylou Harris, which began in earnest when we were living in Nashville over a decade ago. We’ve made lots of detours into different corners of the Americana landscape since then, and now maybe for the first time, we’re tying ourselves back to that time and place. There’s a sort of Beauty and the Beast element to Gram and Emmylou that we have always related to — or sought solace in. His vulnerable warble and her impossible majesty bring the songs to life in a way that is hard to define but there’s something beautiful in that juxtaposition. We’ve gleaned a lot from them over the years.
What rituals do you have, either in the studio or before a show?
We have a fairly simple pre-show ritual and that is: one drink; no more, no less. There’s a sweet spot where you’re just loose enough to get lost in the songs and make brave choices but not so loose your playing stinks. And yeah, maybe bring one on stage with you…
Which elements of nature do you spend the most time with and how do those impact your work?
We are spending a year living in Winnipeg, Manitoba, or “Winter-Peg, Man-it’s-cold-out” where as I write, the temperature is a frosty -20°C. We are a walking family — we don’t own a car — so we all have excellent winter parkas and boots to trundle across the frozen prairie city. Manitoba is also a sun bathed province so a blanket of snow and a vast bright blue prairie sky can make for a rare kind of beauty and mystery. We find ourselves leaning on that big sky ambience in the production choices we employ in the studio. Reverb-drenched guitars, midtempos and big spaces are all tributes to the Canadian winter. You hear them in records by Joni Mitchell, Neil Young, Blue Rodeo, k.d. lang, Colter Wall and The Sadies, too. Coincidence? Dunno.
What has been the best advice you’ve received in your career so far?
The best career advice actually came from a running coach on the eve of my (Luke’s) 2013 Boston Marathon race: “The hay is in the barn” is what my coach Tanya Jones offered me when I called her in a panic over my impending pre-race insomnia. She reminded me that the work had been done, the miles had been logged, and that the difference between success and failure would come down to training and hard work — which I had done. Add a dollop of adrenaline and a sleepless night won’t matter, since “the hay is in the barn,” i.e., the harvest had been collected. She was right (2:55:11, meaning I finished my race a full hour before the horrifying detonation of the two bombs that marred the event that year) and that advice has helped me (and us) ever since.
If you had to write a mission statement for your career, what would it be?
Follow the muse wherever she wanders, know that this game is a long one, spend more time on the finer points than you think you need to, assume your fans to be smarter than you and never forget that if you’re lucky, the very act of playing the show is tantamount to stopping to smell the roses.
Back when cowboys were king, ranchers used to have to make regular pilgrimages across long, winding trails to sell their cattle at stockyards and make their living. One such trail, known as the “Goodnight-Loving Trail,” extended all the way from central Texas to Cheyenne, Wyoming, and has been immortalized many times over in movies and songs. The journey involved with moving these cattle countless miles on horseback was known as a cattle drive. This fall we’ll be hitting the road on the Kitchen Dwellers and Daniel Donato tour, and we’d like to think of it as a bit of our own “Cosmic Cattle Drive.” We hope you enjoy and hope to see you out on the road this fall.
Selections 1-6: Torrin Daniels, Kitchen Dwellers Selections 7-12: Daniel Donato
Colter Wall – “Cowpoke”
One of the oldest and most famous cowboy songs to date, this one tells the story of the life of a ‘cowpoke.’ Colter Wall did a damn fine version here, with each country-western instrument beautifully represented — but what really sells it is the ‘cattle call’ in the chorus.
Daniel Donato – “Justice”
This tune was my introduction to Daniel’s music, way back in the spring of 2020. Nothing screams western psychedelia quite like that opening guitar riff, and right off the bat it shows that these boys are masters of their realm in a place of no space and time. Plus the chorus got that Gangstarr reference.
Gram Parsons – “Return of the Grievous Angel”
Gram Parsons is the father of country-rock and maybe the first person to coin the term “cosmic country.” With references to “truckers, kickers, and cowboy angels” and “lighting out for some desert town” — as far as road songs go, this one’s got it all.
King Gizzard and The Lizard Wizard – “Billabong Valley”
“Outlaws on the run, faster than a stolen gun.” KGLW are gurus of many things across the musical spectrum, but above all, they have mastered the dark art of “evil guitar.” That same style of gained up, tremolo-drenched guitar which can be heard across the soundtracks of countless western movies.
Billy Strings – “Heartbeat of America”
As a musician on any road trip, it’s an inevitable fact that you’re eventually gonna start listening to your buddies’ music. Billy and the boys really knocked it outta the park with this one, with instrumental sections that are both bluegrass-laden and psychedelic in nature. We can only hope that once we embark on our journey, we may begin to hear the heartbeat of America out there on the road.
Chris LeDoux – “Horses and Cattle”
Chris Ledoux was sort of a family friend of ours growing up. I was going to his shows long before I was old enough to realize the legend that he was. I honestly don’t know of any other country musicians that can hold both a Grammy nomination AND a Pro-Rodeo Bareback World Championship as accolades. The guy was as western as it gets, and so is his music.
Kitchen Dwellers – “Guilty”
This song is a prime example of how music can be a harmony of light and dark, hard and soft, and reflective and joyful. Emotional content not considered, the arrangement and musicianship The Dwellers play with is inspiring and transcendent.
Jimmy Wakely – “Moon Over Montana”
This song is a transportation device into a Tarantino movie taking place in a spacious and vast unknown Big Sky prairie where the search for the light through the darkness of troubles and sorrow every hero finds on their journey is about to begin.
Waylon Jennings – “T For Texas”
There was a time when country was astonishing in its danger and sensibility of pocket and edge. This live track should satiate any live music experience fix of that special vibe that a listener should have, but in a musical context that is Honky Tonk and Twangy.
Marty Robbins – “Big Iron”
The story is the framework for dark and light, love and sorrow, and life and death. The story that creates the experience that is within this song is pungent and captivating. Also note the fantastic Grady Martin picking the nylon string guitar throughout the song and story.
Khruangbin – “So We Won’t Forget”
There are few things more magnetic than music being made live by a band that understands listening and arrangement, in a format that is easy to access and feel. This song captures a myriad of emotions that feel like nostalgia, joy, and vulnerability.
Little Feat – “New Delhi Freight Train”
Lowell George was a genius in capturing a feeling, and communicating it through his sensibility of arrangement, orchestration, and singing, with these lyrics written by Terry Allen. This song feels like an adventure, like something new is on the horizon, and for all of us, this is the case in this very moment.
Photos Provided by Big Hassle Media
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