Tag: Country Music

A Lot of Life: A Conversation with Becca Mancari

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Becca Mancari may live in Nashville, but the sound she’s developed in her music is anything but “Nashville.” It makes a good deal of sense, though, when you consider Mancari’s earlier life, which included stints in India, the Blue Ridge Mountains, south Florida, and Staten Island.

On her debut album Good Woman, Mancari weaves her myriad life experiences into a lush tapestry of gold-toned tales which, sonically, hew far more closely to dreamy California folk-pop than the tradition-heavy throwback country currently making the rounds in much of Music City’s music scene. In doing so, Mancari has transcended her status as a local favorite to that of a nationally acclaimed artist, songs like “Golden” and “Arizona Fire” earning her nods from major outlets like NPR and Rolling Stone.

Mancari is also one third of one of the most buzzed-about new bands of any genre — Bermuda Triangle. Alongside singer/songwriter Jesse Lafser and Alabama Shakes’ Brittany Howard, Mancari and Bermuda Triangle recently released a single (the Laurel Canyon-esque ballad “Rosey”) and have plans to tour intermittently throughout the rest of the year. 

You have a new solo album. Can you tell me how the album first started to take shape for you?

The album, it’s my debut record. I’ve only had one song out, “Summertime Mama,” and now we have two versions, which I think confused people a little bit. But it’s so great, the idea of the power of one song. I had that one song do its work and time-and-a-half. Everything from Ann Powers featuring us last year with NPR for AmericanaFest — which is huge, she’s been a huge blessing in my life.

I decided I was going to take my time. I met a lot of producers and I just couldn’t get the right vibe. I noticed that this guy — his name is Kyle Ryan — he would be coming to our shows all the time. I know he’s a busy guy. He’s Kacey Musgraves’ band leader, and he’s also deeply involved in her recordings now. But he would just keep showing up and, by the last time, he had a notebook in his hand and was taking notes at my show. I went up to him afternoon and I go, “Hey man, you wanna get coffee?” So we did.

I actually had never really heard anything that he had done production-wise, but everything that he talked to me about, I was on the same page, from inspirations like Tame Impala to the way he is more of a Beatles fan and less of a — and this is not against the Nashville sound or the country way, but I just don’t feel like I fit in that world, and I didn’t want to make a throwback record. I would say he was like another member of our band. Tracking was all done by my live band. The only “studio” musician was a trumpet player that I had come in.

Did y’all do the actual recording in Nashville?

Yeah, we did it over at his studio, which is right behind his house, right close to Mas Tacos. Of course, there’s like a million studios everywhere. He makes gold, man. He’s incredible.

You mentioned how the Nashville sound of the current isn’t necessarily what you’re after or what you do, but it does seem like you’ve still been embraced by that fan base — which, granted, is pretty broad these days. What do you think it is about your music that still appeals to that contingent?

That’s a good question. I don’t know. I feel like we are so much of a family in Nashville, so I feel like that’s kind of playing into it. I have friends like JP Harris or Christina Murray or Margo [Price] — real country musicians — and they listen to other music, too. It’s not the only music they listen to, and I think that what I’ve noticed is that they’ve been excited to come to the shows because they’re like, “Hey, you’re doing something different on that steel. I don’t know what you’re doing, but I really like it.” I think it’s just refreshing, maybe.

I really don’t have any background in country music. I didn’t really listen to it growing up. I don’t know how to play it, even. I do think, though, that I love songwriters, and I’d say my greatest influences, when I was young and still now, are Bob Dylan, Neil Young, even John Prine. To me, these people are able to translate even in the indie world because they’re just great songs. You can kind of do whatever you want, when you have great songs. I let my guys take what I write and put the sounds to it, put the vibe on it, and that’s how we function as a band.

Since you’re an artist crafting such song- and lyric-driven music, do you have a tried-and-true writing process that you follow?

I do the traditional sit down and pull out my guitar and be by myself thing. “Golden” came to me in the night, which is fairly rare. I think one of the things I also like to do is I listen to one record over and over and over again. I was listening to Gillian Welch at the time when I wrote that song, and I just wouldn’t stop listening to it, and there was this one song — I think it’s called “Orphan Girl” and it’s not the same thing at all — but there’s this one note that I keep turning in my brain.

That’s how I kind of take melodies sometimes, where I’m like … it’s not their melody, but it’s a hearing thing. I write a lot as a hearer. I don’t know how to read music. I wish I did, but I don’t. I play it by ear and I always have. I’ve always been really sensitive to sound, so a lot of times, it’s sound. I write better when I’m in the car driving, watching things and hearing things. I also voice memo a lot, then I take it back and figure it out on guitar. So it depends. But a lot of it is from sound, for some reason.

Lyrically, the songs sound like they are very personal. Do you draw very heavily from your own life?

I think I do. I’m in awe of the John Prines of the world who write these stories, but they are very personal. I also try and allow space for somebody else’s emotions and feelings and thoughts. There’s an element of somebody wanting to take it for themselves. But yes, a lot of this record has an overarch of time and life in it. I think it’s just because it’s my first record, too, so there’s a lot of life in this one, including mine.

It sounds like you’ve led a pretty nomadic existence, moving from place to place and seeing lots of things. How do you think that transience, if at all, has influenced you as an artist?

Oh, man. When you grow up with parents like mine that just wanted us to see so much of the world … My first time leaving the country was at 14. Not many people get to do that. I went to Peru when I was a kid and experienced that and saw so much of another part of the world that we aren’t introduced to, oftentimes. I think that has helped me open my eyes to seeing the other side of things, with empathy and compassion, I hope.

It’s easy to forget, in the world that we live in. We become obsessed with our own stuff. But I do think that helped. I was talking the other day in an interview with Ann [Powers], and she was asking me about that. I got to live in India for a while, and my older sister lived there for five years. Just spending time around Hindi culture — which is so different than anything I’ve ever experienced. I can’t explain India. Even the way we made “Arizona Fire,” I feel like there’s an entrancing, kind of dream-like aspect to it where I did get inspired by the hypnotic, circular sound that is in traditional Hindi music. Traveling all over the country, seeing different ways of life, I feel like, if I could tell any young person, I’d say, “Go. Go see everything you can, because it’s going to seep into you.”

Going back to what you said about writing from a place of compassion and empathy … one thing I find myself wondering about anybody who’s releasing a piece of art right now is whether or not the political climate had an impact on those pieces. Did you find yourself feeling influenced by that, when you were writing some of these songs?

Yeah, there’s definitely some social aspects. “Devil’s Mouth” is very personal to me. It has my family involved in it. I had some even — I don’t know what the word is — baggage, or pain, I guess, from feeling like I’m on the outside of things, even being somebody that came out [as gay] pretty young, when it was pretty scary still. Those things are definitely reflected in there.

The current climate that we live in reminds me a lot of when I was little. There’s a lot of fear-based living. And there’s a lot of an idea of pushing us away from people who have really worked hard to be open. And even what happened just recently with DACA … I wrote a song with Bermuda Triangle, another band that I’m in, called “Tear Us Apart,” and it has everything to do with it. It’s actually really emotional for me to even get into right now because it deeply affects my family — my nuclear family of me and my girlfriend — and just the life we have. It’s a lot.

Right now, I feel like I have not even gone to those places yet to figure out how to have a voice. I just talk openly, and I will use my music however to defend people that are in trouble right now. And there are a lot of people that are, and a lot of people that don’t really understand what it’s like to be affected by the Trump administration. I grew up in a Hispanic culture, and it’s a scary time for a lot of us. I’ve been really upset for the last few days. I don’t even know how to explain it right now.

Well, on a more optimistic note, you did mention Bermuda Triangle. I haven’t seen people this excited about a new band in a while. How did y’all first start pulling this project together?

Oh, man. Thank God for the light-hearted things in life. We have serious songs — serious heartbreak, political things — but we are just so about having fun. If you’re ever able to come to a show, it’s just funny. Brittany is hilarious. I like to have a good time, and we’re all truly best friends. I hang out with them all the time. They’re the people I’m spending my life with. So it was just a natural progression. Brittany and I met each other four years ago, and we joke/believe that we met each other in a past life, all three of us. We talked to a psychic and she was like, “Oh yeah, you’ve known each other for forever.” So there’s a little element of mystery and fun and also just true friendship.

For us, what a wonderful time to be together and enjoy each other, and that’s what we want our shows to be like. I don’t know why I’ve read any of this stuff, but I’ve read some haters already, but Brittany is so special to people, and I get that. But the thing is, we’re also special to each other and she understands that. I think the world needs to understand that more, especially with us as women. We celebrate each other. We don’t compete against each other. We push each other to be better, and that’s what this band is about. We really truly love each other, and we really truly believe in each other’s music. We get to demonstrate that in the way we want to and not because we have to survive off this band. We all have our projects. Brittany is going to continue to blow our minds. Jesse has been the most underrated writer in Nashville for years, and I’m just so proud to see her finally get the attention she deserves. I’m just excited that this Triangle is going to give us an open door to have fun, but also to put out some really great stuff. Yeah, we basically met on porches drinking tequila and started playing music.

Photo credit: Zachary Gray

Hangin’ & Sangin’: Travis Meadows

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From the Bluegrass Situation and WMOT Roots Radio, it’s Hangin’ & Sangin’ with your host, BGS editor Kelly McCartney. Every week Hangin’ & Sangin’ offers up casual conversation and acoustic performances by some of your favorite roots artists. From bluegrass to folk, country, blues, and Americana, we stand at the intersection of modern roots music and old time traditions bringing you roots culture — redefined.

With me today at Hillbilly Central, Travis Meadows. Welcome.

Glad to be here.

So happy you’re here. You have a new record, First Cigarette.

Yes, ma’am.

It’s a beauty, man. It really is.

I’m pretty excited about it!
…

I feel like … “if onlys” are a big part of this record, or the disposing thereof — the discarding of excuses of not being right here, right now. That’s in the title track and in a bunch of the other songs. So, the balancing act between accepting where you are and who you are, and still striving to be better — how do you see that and how do you achieve that?

Oh, man! I didn’t realize it was gonna get so deep in this interview.

Oh, yeah, man. [Laughs]

You know, I don’t know. My whole life these days is kind of in 24-hour increments. I can’t get too locked into the past because I can’t do anything about that, and I can’t do anything about tomorrow, so my whole life is just kind of centering around “right now.” And that kind of reflects itself in my writing, you know what I mean?

Trying to give your best to this moment.

To this moment, yeah! And I will say that, on this record, I did something that I had not done on the previous records, and that was taking into consideration the audience listening. It’s such an unusual thing that is happening in my life, but I didn’t know that people were gonna gravitate to these songs and that I was actually gonna get invited to play places … But then I started [thinking], you know, “If I were in the audience and I was listening to one wrist-slitter after another, I wouldn’t like this! It’s a little depressing.”

And so, on this record, I was very adamant about putting some breathers in there, some levity, just a chance to enjoy music and not have to think as much as you were on the previous songs. You know what I mean? Which, in some ways, is, I feel like, a little bit of a sign of personal growth, because the first two records were just completely self-absorbent, self-indulgent records. I was just writing songs for me. And I still write songs for me, but I was thinking, “If I were in the audience, I would want something fast every now and then. I’d want a little breathing time.”

But I think, even if you are writing for you, if you’re writing with truth, it’s gonna resonate with people.

I think so.

And I think about, on this record, a song like “Better Boat.” That’s a song that I resonate with and I think probably a lot of people would — anyone who’s trying to better themselves by going deeper into their relationships. That’s what that is to me, you know?

Yeah, absolutely.

But that wasn’t always how you looked at life was it? Through that lens?

No, and regrettably I can still be quite pessimistic. You know, I’m just a dark son of a gun! But I’m getting better about it, and I’m embracing the moment more and more. I’ve actually — I cannot believe I’m about to say this — but I’ve actually, even in the past week with the reaction to the record where I ought to be jumping up and down and just beside myself, I’m kind of freaking out. People cannot like this this much! That’s my brain. And I have to [think], “They keep showing up to the shows.” So it’s humbling and it’s challenging and, heck, if they’re gonna keep showing up, I’m gonna keep showing up. And that’s kind of where I’m at.

Sometimes, I think, for those of us who have had troubled or dark or broken lives — which, technically, is everybody …

Pretty much.

Some more than others. But I think joy is one of the hardest things to embrace, right?

I went through a preacher phase for a while. It’s so funny because I’ve gone through these little chapters of my life. I almost completely change. I look at those chapters like it was somebody else. … One or two [of my long-time friends] said, “I don’t know what you were doing in the preaching days, but you’re preaching now.” And that was way too much responsibility for me. … I’m just singing my songs. That’s enough for me.

But it did make me look at, “What is it that I am doing?” And I think what it is, with me being this vulnerable and telling this much truth about myself, I think I’m giving people permission to be okay with themselves — who they are, where they are, scars and all. I think we have this kind of messed up idea, “Well, if I could marry this person, or if I had this much money, or if I was doing this job instead of this one, things would be better.” And I think the secret is, if I’ve stumbled onto anything in these few years that I’ve been kickin’ around, is that the idea of contentment comes from being okay where you’re at right now, which is hard. It’s like a bird that lands on your shoulder and as soon as you look, it’s gone! But those moments where you have that serenity, that calm, that peace.
…

But I think the other thing that you do through your songs is, by digging into your truth and laying it out there for the whole world to see, in all its ragged vulnerability and rawness, you’re giving people the permission to look at their stuff, too. And they’ll be like, “Oh, well, he’s doing that, so maybe it’s okay if I kind of turn the lens inward a little bit.”

Absolutely.

Watch all the episodes on YouTube, or download and subscribe to the Hangin’ & Sangin’ podcast and other BGS programs every week via iTunes, Podbean, or your favorite podcast platform.

Photo credit: Joshua Black Wilkins

WATCH: Elijah Ocean, ‘Chain of Gold’

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Artist: Elijah Ocean
Hometown: Los Angeles, CA
Song: “Chain of Gold”
Album: Elijah Ocean
Release Date: August 4, 2017
Label: New Wheel Music

In Their Words: “I wrote this song from the point of view of a guy who is stuck in the past, clinging to a piece of jewelry that represents the memory of his lost love. We filmed the video in Antelope Valley, California, during a fleeting super-bloom of poppies.” — Elijah Ocean

Photo credit: Chell Stephen

Hangin’ & Sangin’: Lee Ann Womack

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From the Bluegrass Situation and WMOT Roots Radio, it’s Hangin’ & Sangin’ with your host, BGS editor Kelly McCartney. Every week Hangin’ & Sangin’ offers up casual conversation and acoustic performances by some of your favorite roots artists. From bluegrass to folk, country, blues, and Americana, we stand at the intersection of modern roots music and old time traditions bringing you roots culture — redefined.

With me today at 21c Museum Hotel in Nashville … Lee Ann Womack!

Yay!

What?! And Lex Price on guitar. Welcome, you guys! Lee Ann Womack in a penthouse suite is the stuff dreams are made of, just generally, but I’m going to melt into a puddle, at some point, when you start singing.

[Laughs] Well, I’m happy to be here.

You have a new record coming out October 27 — The Lonely, the Lonesome, & the Gone. It is 54 minutes of pure flawlessness, and it’s all I want to listen to right now. I’m so glad that I have it ahead of everybody, and I won’t get sick of it. So, congratulations, it’s wonderful.

[Laughs] Thank you! I had fun making it. I’m glad you like it.

…

The first time I listened to this record, my immediate reaction was that it felt like you felt more confident and more comfortable than ever. Not that you sounded in any way bad before, it just felt like … I don’t want to say “you found your voice” because I think that’s always been there. But you’re stepping into it when you want to, you’re hanging back when you need to. Is that because you wrote some of the songs or is it something else, do you think?

I think it’s probably age, I mean experience … not being so worried about what people think. And hopefully the more you do something, the better you get at it, so if you’re singing for years and years and years, hopefully you get better at it. But also, this is probably the first time I made a record where I just really wasn’t worried about a staff of people at a label “getting it” or anything like that. I just did what I wanted to do.

…

Someone called this record your Wrecking Ball.

Ooh, I didn’t know that! I like that.

I’ll tell you who later. But I kind of took that to mean that you have hit your stride now, at this point. You’ve kind of found your sound, which was always in there, but you’ve moved all the other stuff away.

That’s fair. Yeah, that’s good. I mean I recorded all those records for a major label, you know, and they have things that they expect. Also, as the artist, when you sign a contract, you agree to make a certain kind of music, and so without having those constraints, I really have been able to just enjoy myself. Whereas before, I enjoyed little bits and pieces, now I enjoy the entire thing, and it’s nice.

Do you pick and write songs that you know you’re gonna enjoy singing live and will enjoy singing live for years to come, is that part of it?

Yes, definitely. And songs that move me for one reason or another. I don’t worry so much about, “Okay is this gonna move six million people?” Or, “Is this gonna move the promotion staff?” Or, whatever. I just worry that it moves me. And if it moves me, I’m a music lover, then it’s gonna move somebody else.

…

Now, you are absolute royalty within the Americana community.

Aww.

But I also love that the Grammys and the actual country music — the CMAs and stuff like that — are also still recognizing you and still nodding in your direction. So do you feel like that’s kind of the best of all possible scenarios, to be straddling it all and not just one or the other?

I mean it’s nice, very nice, but I have had my hand in each of these areas from the beginning, you know? My very first single was “Never Again, Again” and it had Ricky Skaggs and Sharon White singing the harmony on it. And I’ve been working with Buddy Miller for however long — years and years — and Jim Lauderdale. And, as far as the bluegrass world goes, I love my bluegrass friends.

I know you do.

Yeah, and love the music, love the lifestyle and everything. So yeah, I’ve kind of had my hand in a lot of different places over the years, and that’s kind of just who I am.

But it’s weird that you haven’t always been perceived that way, right? People perceived you in a different way.

And that was frustrating for me because, I mean, you can tell by the way I talk and sing, you know that I’m country. [Laughs]

[Laughs] No way around that!

My favorite singer is George Jones. To me, George Jones is a country singer, but he’s a soul singer, you know? And Ralph Stanley’s a soul singer! If it’s born out of something that’s real rootsy, then I’m gonna love it. And that’s who I am, that’s how I was born I guess.

And that’s the thread running through this record too, you burn down all the walls. It’s hardly strictly country and hardly strictly anything … But that soulfulness and you just pouring yourself into it, that’s the thread, and it’s amazing that, after all these records, that it’s clear that you’re a fan first. That’s coming [through], your love of music and your enjoyment singing. Is that something you have to work at or is that just naturally coming?

No, I don’t have to work at it. If I didn’t sing, I feel like I’d die or something, like it keeps my heart beating or something. I don’t know. But you know what? I don’t have to sing on stage in front of thousands and thousands of people. I can sit down in my living room at home with my guitar and sing, and it still feeds whatever that is. I sing and hum to myself all the time and my daughters are like, “Would you stop doing that?” I’ll be grocery shopping or whatever.

While all the rest of us are like, “Can we come over?”

[Laughs] It’s funny because it’s like I don’t even know I’m doing it.

Watch all the episodes on YouTube, or download and subscribe to the Hangin’ & Sangin’ podcast and other BGS programs every week via iTunes, Podbean, or your favorite podcast platform.

Photo credit: Ebru Yildiz

LISTEN: Whitney Rose, ‘Trucker’s Funeral’

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Artist: Whitney Rose
Hometown: Prince Edward Island, Canada, and Austin, Texas
Song: “Trucker’s Funeral”
Album: Rule 62
Release Date: October 6, 2017
Label: Six Shooter/Thirty Tigers

In Their Words: “One thing that’s happening with my songwriting as I’m getting older is that I’m exploring outside of my own experiences a lot more. Most of my life is spent on the road now and, as a result of that, I get to meet a hell of a lot of people. Different kinds of people, too. It’s great, and one of my favorite things about what I do. ‘Trucker’s Funeral’ is one of my favorite songs on the album and one of the most fun to write, too, because it’s based on a true story. I had a meeting at Bank of America here in Austin last year and, when the meeting was over, the B of A employee told me about going to his grandfather’s funeral here in Texas and finding out he had a whole other family on the west coast. Because he was a trucker and always on the road, neither family had any idea. As he was telling me this story, I was jotting down lyrics on my banking papers because it was just too intriguing of a story to not be made into a song. If I was a filmmaker, I’d have made a movie about it.” — Whitney Rose

Photo credit: Jen Squires

That Ain’t Bluegrass: Darin & Brooke Aldridge

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Artist: Darin & Brooke Aldridge
Song: “ Someday Soon” (originally by Ian & Sylvia)
Album: Faster and Farther

When did you first hear “Someday Soon?”

Darin Aldridge: It’s one of the tunes that Brooke and I have been doing in the living room around our house, as we just sit around playing, coming up with tunes. [Laughs] Suzy Bogguss was probably the first for both of us. We were in Sarasota, Florida, about a year-and-a-half or two years ago with John Cowan — we’ve been on tour a lot with him lately. And the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band, some of those guys were down there. We were just soundchecking, and Brooke started singing the song as a vocal check. And they all asked if we would do that song that night. We started doing it from there.

What was your process for arranging it and putting it together?

We kept it in the same key for her. It sang really well. The chords are so beautiful in it the way Ian Tyson wrote them, so we thought, “Why change anything that’s not really broken?” She does hold out a part of it toward the end. It’s such a good note for her. And that’s different from any other versions of the song. We arranged it with the band we would be performing live with, so it would have the fiddle and guitar break. Dobro was in our band, at the time, so that’s how we had that in there.

It’s been a tradition since the beginning of bluegrass for artists to take songs from outside of the genre and turn them into bluegrass songs. Why do you think that is?

I think that as people in different genres and different eras — say the ‘60s til now — people just play music that they enjoy, writing they enjoy. I got to be a part of the Country Gentlemen in the last decade or so that Charlie Waller was alive. They were probably known as the first bluegrass artists to really be reaching out in the ‘60s, doing a lot of folk tunes, a lot of rock songs, like things from the movie Exodus and so forth. That trickled down through the decades. If it’s just a good song, it’s hard to keep down, and I think that’s what keeps a lot of the music fresh. Even Monroe ventured into some of the bluesy music, so did Flatt & Scruggs, to keep along with the times. Different artists just picked things that they enjoyed or spoke to them.

What’s your favorite thing about performing this song?

Probably the crowd response. It speaks to a lot of new folks listening to it the first time, then you get the older generation that have heard it from the hit by Judy Collins in the ‘60s, or from Suzy Bogguss’s hit — people who are 40 or 50 years old remember that from the ‘90s. It’s a good crowd favorite. We got to perform it on the Grand Ole Opry this year, when we debuted, and it got a great response. It’s just been a wonderful song. It’s up for IBMA Song of the Year. It’s been number one for us on the Bluegrass Today chart, Roots Music Report, and, I think, Bluegrass Unlimited.

You know that ain’t bluegrass, right?

[Laughs] ‘Cause it don’t have a banjo in it! I see it from both sides. Considering bluegrass the way Monroe and them played it in 1946 with that instrumentation — that’s ground zero for bluegrass. This song doesn’t have banjo in it, but it’s got soul, it’s got instrumentation of bluegrass, and of course wonderful singing. It’s hard to keep that down. It can crossover to whatever. It’s not too far from Suzy’s version of it or mainstream country and it’s hit a lot of country radio.

That’s a hard question, you know? If it’s bluegrass or it’s not. I think it’s people’s opinion about what they enjoy and that opinion is growing wider and wider, which makes the music grow. Why not let them fight over what they think is and isn’t bluegrass? That’s why they make CDs and downloads, so you can choose yourself, I guess? [Laughs]

A Minute In Galax with Wild Ponies

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Welcome to “A Minute In …” — a BGS feature that turns our favorite artists into hometown reporters. In our latest column, Doug Williams of Wild Ponies takes us through the town of his youth — Galax, Virginia. It’s also the town where Wild Ponies recorded their latest release, aptly titled Galax.

Galax, Virginia, is a little mountain town and is pretty much the undisputed center of the old-time and bluegrass music world. It’s the home of the Crooked Road and the Galax Old-Time Fiddlers’ Convention (82 years and running). It’s hard to get it down to just a minute in Galax — this might be more like a minute-and-a-half. There’s so much cool stuff, it’s hard to choose what to leave out — like the historical Rex Theater (hosts bluegrass bands every Friday night and broadcasts them live on WBRF, but also where my dad spent Saturday afternoons as a kid watching Westerns while his dad worked in Pless’s hardware store). I’ll do my best to give you an honest spin around the town and sneak in as much as I can. — Doug Williams

The Dairy Bar: Get a hot dog basket and a lemonade. Killer burgers, too. When my mom was a kid, she’d get the lime float. This is a real old-school drive-in, and they’ll bring the food right out to you. You can sit in your car or get out and sit on the deck, which gives you a bird’s eye view of Felts Park. So, if you’re there the second weekend of August, you can look down on the mayhem of the Fiddlers’ Convention while you chew. 

 

Barr’s Fiddle Shop: It’s hard to believe, but there’s only one music store in Galax. Barr’s is more than a fiddle shop, though; it’s also a small museum and an incredibly important place in American music history. It used to be a barber shop and, in the early 1920s, it was the place Al Hopkins formed his band that became known as the Hill Billies. This was the first ever use of that term, and actually has a pretty decent claim to the real foundation of country music. These guys were recorded in 1925, and the Bristol Sessions didn’t happen until 1927.  Either way, at least we got the word “hillbilly” out of it.  

Roy’s: Directly across Main Street from Barr’s Fiddle Shop is Roy’s Jewelry. I’ve got to include Roy’s. They have some cool stuff. You can get custom Galax leaf jewelry here. Be sure to ask for Judith when you go in. Her father, Hazen Burnette, was one of my grandfather’s best friends. Hazen spent more time on horseback around Galax than anyone else. There was even an article about it in Western Horseman. Judith helped my grandfather pick out a LOT of jewelry for my grandmother over the years and, for that, she deserves sainthood. She’s also a huge part of the personality of WBRF. You can tune in and listen to her Blueridge Backroads show in the evenings. She’s great! 

City Gallery: While we’re still wandering around on Main Street, you’ve got to stop by City Gallery. It’s sort of a local artisan center — paintings, handmade jewelry, just all kinds of cool stuff. We’re friends with a lot of the artists who sell things here, and it’s always fun to duck in and see what’s new. Becky Guynn’s paintings of local musicians and places in Galax really capture the spirit. Karin Carlson-Muncy’s copper work just blows me away.  I could go on … just trust me. 

Creek Bottom Brews: This is a new place — it’s only been around for a few years — but it’s a welcome addition. It’s definitely not the place to go, if you’re just trying to breeze through town real quick and not let anybody know you’re there. You will be spotted. But that’s okay; we love our Galax family and friends. Creek Bottom has WiFi, which is great because my cell phone doesn’t work in Galax. They also have their own beer, which is really good, and a pretty huge assortment of other brews on tap and in bottles and cans (just clap your hands). Even if Creek Bottom didn’t have Wifi and beer, I’d still go for the pizza. They’ve got a big brick oven and they just keep cranking them out. So, so good. 

The New River Trail: It would be hard to not mention the New River Trail. It’s part of the Rails-to-Trails program. This particular stretch runs 57 miles, from Fries to Pulaski, and goes right through downtown Galax. It also goes right by my grandfather’s farm at the Gambetta Junction. (We spell it “Gambetty,” but whatever.) When I was a kid, we’d ride horses along the train tracks before it was converted into a state park. The trail follows along beside Chestnut Creek and then the New River. It’s a gorgeous place to ride bikes, horses, or just hike and look for Galax leaves. When we were making the Galax record at the farm, it just got too hot to play music and we all went down to the trail and hiked around a bit and played in the creek.   

The Shed: I’m not going to tell you exactly where this is, but it’s not far from the New River Trail. This place used to be home to the best song circles and old-time jams anywhere in the world. Turns out, it’s a pretty good temporary recording studio, too.  

WATCH: Doyle Lawson and Quicksilver, ‘Blue Train’

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Artist: Doyle Lawson and Quicksilver
Hometown: Fordtown, TN
Song: “Blue Train”
Album: A Tribute to John D. Loudermilk
Release Date: September 15, 2017
Label: Vector Recordings

In Their Words: “When I was getting songs together for the Hard Game of Love recording, I was thumbing through an old Country Song Roundup magazine. I turned a page and there was ‘Blue Train of the Heartbreak Railroad Line’ written by John D. Loudermilk. It was first recorded by George Hamilton IV, and I remembered the melody. My first thought was that it would be the opening song for the CD. The fans fell in love with the song as soon they heard it and it stayed at #1 on the bluegrass charts for about six months. I still close most of my shows with it. Every artist hopes that, someday, they will have a signature song and ‘Blue Train’ is mine.

I have long been a fan of John D’s writing because he wrote outside the box a lot of times. After I met John, he told me that he had written ‘Blue Train’ when was in South Africa and noticed that he was on the blue train. When he arrived at his destination, he had finished the song. John could — and did — write songs the way a lot of us wish we could. And you can put me at the top of the list of wishers.” — Doyle Lawson

Photo credit: Anthony Scarlati

Charley Pride: Crossing Over Generations

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Charley Pride might be 83 and a living country legend, but that doesn’t mean he’s not wise or proud enough to still listen to his wife. “It’s been six years since the last one,” Pride says of his 2011 album, Choices. “And my wife said, ‘Why don’t you try and find a producer you might like to work with?'” Pride heard her loud and clear and, together, they found Billy Yates, a renowned Nashville artist, producer, and songwriter. Even in his 80s, Pride wasn’t afraid to shake things up a little. Clearly, he’s never been afraid to take chances and drive from his gut — straight to 36 number one songs and spots in the Country Music Hall of Fame and the Grand Ole Opry.

The result is Music in My Heart, 13 songs of tender country traditionalism centered on Pride’s warm tone and classic, twangy spikes of fiddle and steel guitar. After all these years and one of country’s most storied careers, Pride’s never found a reason to veer away from what he does best — songs that grow fruitfully from the genre’s original roots, watered with the souls of Bill Monroe and Roy Acuff.

“I’m a traditionalist,” says Pride. He repeats the phrase so it’s undeniably clear: “A traditionalist. You don’t have to worry about me crossing over, because I’m a traditionalist and I’m proud of that. People used to say to me, after ‘Kiss an Angel Good Mornin” started going up the charts, ‘Charley, when are you going to cross over?’ I said, ‘I ain’t going to cross over to nothing.’ They want me to cross over? They crossed over to me!”

Pride, who’s sold over 70 million records worldwide, has certainly earned the right to stick to his convictions — and he’s also proven the value of driving straight from the heart, with equal parts hard work along the way. Pride grew up the son of a sharecropper on a cotton farm in Sledge, Mississippi, and has lived a life worthy of the movie screens, so much so that a biopic has been in the works for years (at one point, Dwayne Johnson, aka the Rock, was even in talks to play the singer). Pride held tenure in the Negro baseball league, was drafted by the Army, and ended up in Nashville after his plans in sports crumbled. He took the bus to Tennessee, eventually breaking barriers with hit after hit in the ’60s, ’70s, and ’80s. Even now, he’s still working, performing sometimes 40 concert dates a year. The only difference is that he’s singing to multiple generations.

“I’m singing to three or four decades now,” Pride says. “I was in Indiana a few years back, and a lady hollered out in the audience, ‘Charley! You’re singing to five generations!’ I’m singing to grandmothers, grandfathers, granddaughters. I don’t want to sound like I’m bragging, but they’re still standing up when I first come on. They scream, ‘Oh, Charley. You’ve still got it!’ Not just the ladies; the men are, too. When you get that kind of thing, it’s hard to quit.”

Indeed, Music in My Heart is still very much progressing and alive. Instead of compiling an album of tributes, or something trying to appeal to country’s current trends, it’s unapologetic in its tone: it opens on “New Patches,” with fiddle that’s clear as day, undeniably traditional and Southern-rooted. Pride’s voice, too, has only honeyed as the years have gone on, deepening a touch, yet barely fraying. Even in his personal listening, he’s never strayed from the classics. “I listen mostly to Willie’s Roadhouse,” he admits, about his buddy Willie Nelson’s classic country show on SiriusXM. He sees Randy Travis as the dividing line of sorts between the new and the old guard.

“From Randy Travis came Tim McGraw, Garth Brooks, up to Taylor Swift, to now,” he says. “Most of them, I’ve met and they’ve been really good to me, same as my peers up to George Strait. I’ve liked not one or two of their songs, but a whole bunch. Garth Brooks, he treats me like a dad. Well, not a dad, but with respect, for my being a traditionalist.”

Predictably, it’s once again his wife Rozene — to whom he’s been wed since 1956 — who is the balancing force. “If I’m in her car, she listens to the people coming up,” Pride admits, though don’t ask him to recall any of their names. “The youngsters that are coming up right now.” Pride’s own youngster — his son, Dion — carries on the family tradition with some other famous offspring: Marty Haggard and Georgette Jones, something Pride himself brings full circle on Music in My Heart by covering Haggard’s “The Way It Was in ’51.”

With the genre’s recent embrace of traditionalism, it would be a pity to put Pride only in the category of dust-gathering legacy acts: He is one, undoubtedly, but he’s still making music that has ample power to scratch that modern classic country itch. Maybe that’s because he still sees his best days ahead of him. “I think this is my best work, and I’m not just saying that: I’m stating facts that I believe,” he says. “I culled these songs down to the ones I really love, the way I have done all my life. Like I’ve always said, I’m in the business of selling lyrics, feeling, and emotions.”

And Music in My Heart is beating fast and furiously with all of those things, 83 years in the making.

Lede illustration by Cat Ferraz.

Karen Pittelman: Bring Your Truth

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A queer Jew from Brooklyn seems like the most unlikely candidate to front a country band, right? If you factor in Karen Pittelman’s past experience singing and performing punk and queercore, her current old country-influenced, honky tonk-inspired group, Karen & the Sorrows, seems even more implausible. Addressing these kind of assumptions about who “owns” country or who is allowed “admission” to country — by the mainstream country machine, country radio, country writers, or country fans at large — is why the following conversation is so important. On the surface, it would be easy, even hackneyed, to presume that Pittelman and company came to country as opportunists on the waves of the Americana tide. But considering LGBTQ+ identities and perspectives in roots music necessitates digging deeper. Doing so in our laughter-filled dialogue with Pittelman was both enlightening and encouraging.

Before Karen & the Sorrows, you were singing in a punk band. I wonder how you bridged the gap between punk and country — it sounds like it was something of a homecoming for you. Did identity play into you leaving country behind? Did you feel that in punk you would be more free to be yourself rather than in country?

Yeah, I think that that’s true. I came up around queercore, a place where making music and building queer community are all one thing. But I also think the distance between country and punk isn’t as far as people like to think. Who’s more punk than Johnny Cash? Johnny Cash is punk as fuck. I think, in terms of genres that give you a space to tap into anger and make something out of that, punk and country are two of the best. Punk isn’t so good for heartbreak and that’s what took me back to country. Really, what I love the most are sad songs. My heart was broken and, I dunno, I guess when my heart breaks, pedal steel comes out. [Laughs] Different things happen for different people’s hearts, but that’s what’s in mine, so I had to come back to country, whether I wanted to or not.

What was the beginning of country for you? Did you grow up listening to it?

I guess I’m not the average country music listener. I grew up in New York City. Being a queer Jew, I’m not whatever is supposed to be the stereotype of a country music listener. [Laughs] I think lots of people who love country music don’t fit the stereotypes. My dad, when I was growing up, ran a company called Heartland Music and he made compilation albums that were sold on TV. He was working, through my childhood, mostly with country music stars. He would be making these commercials with Conway and Loretta, and George Jones, and Don Williams, and then come back home and play me everything — and force me to listen to everything and learn it. I was kind of resistant, but it all sunk in. I guess it was just in there waiting to come out later.

I always find it interesting that a lot of people who might be opposed to LGBTQ+ rights feel that, because these identities are becoming more visible in more traditionally conservative spheres — roots music, country, bluegrass, old-time — that people with othered identities are “infiltrators.” But when I have these conversations with diverse people, their stories are exactly analogous to anybody else’s experience getting into these genres. Where do you think this disconnect is happening?

I think that’s a kind of stance that happens not just in this situation, but in a lot of different situations where people are feeling afraid of anyone who feels like an “other” to them. Not just LGBTQ, but anybody who is outside of who they define as their community. It always feels like people are infiltrating, because the “others” feel scary. Almost always, whoever is being termed the “other” has been there all along. Especially in America, we’re all mixed up with each other whether we understand it or not. Depending on where you live, maybe things are less racially or religiously diverse, but you don’t have to travel very far before that changes. And certainly you can’t get away from LGBTQ people; we’re everywhere. We’re 10 percent of the population. So, whether someone realizes it or not, we’re always there. We’re your friends and your community. Maybe that makes it even more scary — people having to redefine who they are and who they think everyone else is in relationship to themselves.

I think that’s what I grapple with the most in trying to unpack these issues with people who may stand in opposition. Because of the way the narrative has been told for so long, it’s easy to think that these ideas have only cropped up in the past 30 to 40 years. It’s hard to undo the revisionist history that everyone holds so closely, because it’s a linchpin to their worldview.

When the history of queer people in music is erased, of course nobody knows that it’s actually there. Queer people have been making all kinds of music all along, of course. If you’re not used to hearing that, I get it. You’ve been told your whole life that somebody is the enemy, that somebody is dangerous to you because of who they are — no matter how you define that “other” — you’ve got a lot to disentangle and unpack before you can see me or somebody else as a fellow musician, your neighbor, your friend, or your family.

I noticed, when I first started reading about your band and your album, that you’re clearly labeled and tagged “queer country.” In the course of these interviews and conversations, I’ve found a whole continuum of visibility and display of artists’ identities in what they create. I wondered how you got to the point where you wanted it to be overtly queer?

To me, first and foremost, it’s about the music. First, second, and third it’s about the music — and I just want people to hear the music. As a woman, though, I already don’t get to have that luxury (of being less visible). It’s already going to be, “Ah, women in music.” [Laughs] It happened because I was just craving the space for queer country to exist and I so missed having that space in queercore and queer punk shows. Not that queer space is the only space that I can feel comfortable in or the only space I want to play, but it really feels like home to me. I felt like I needed to make that space for myself and then other people, too, especially when other people were saying, “Yes! We need this, too.” That inspired me and made me feel like I had to keep going. That’s how we started calling it queer country.

Obviously, like we were just talking about, queer people have been making country all along — we’re going to play our record release show with Lavender Country and Patrick Haggerty made his out, proud, queer country album in 1973! I needed this community and, in order to make community, you have to be willing to announce it. “Okay, this is going to be queer country and that’s who we are and anyone else who feels the same way, come play this show with us!” [Laughs]

I can totally relate to that. I grew up in bluegrass — traditional, straight-ahead bluegrass. I didn’t realize that I craved a space to be queer within bluegrass until I tripped into such a space. You feel this burden lifted that you didn’t realize you were carrying around, just from feeling like the odd person out. It feels so good!

Especially in the way that roots music wants to claim a sort of “home” — a space where everyone can feel welcome, where it isn’t about putting on some kind of airs. This is music that’s about telling the truth about your life, about telling the truth of who you are and where you come from, so it’s important that we’re creating a space together where our lives feel known. I think it’s hard to realize, when you grow up with a certain kind of music, that you’re not being included in it. You know, but you don’t know in your bones, until you’re in a space where you are included. Then you realize how lonesome it felt all along.

That really resonates with me. It feels like the LGBTQ+ community in roots music is starting to network and weave together this strong fabric with each other. I love that.

I feel like we’re making it together right now! It’s amazing!

I want to ask you about “Take Me for a Ride” off of your new record, The Narrow Place. I love that it’s basically bro country, but queer. While listening to it, though, I could imagine someone hearing the lyric “I wanna kiss that pretty mouth and keep on kissing south” sung by a woman to a woman and being appalled by how “inappropriate” it is. Meanwhile, Sam Hunt’s “Body Like a Back Road” has been at number one for a record-breaking 25 weeks!

[Laughs] Yeah, “Body Like a Back Road” is way dirtier! It’s funny: I wasn’t sure, when I was working on that song, how dirty it would end up being, but I knew what I was going for. I think it ended up pretty sweet, as far as saying dirty things go! [Laughs] But “Body Like a Back Road” is filthy! And so catchy.

So how do we bridge this logical gap for people? We talked about this a little bit before — queer people have always been in country; queer people come to country music the same ways as everybody else. How do we show people that don’t want us to “flaunt it in their faces,” that it’s really not any different than Sam Hunt singing about “driving with his eyes closed”?

[Laughs] Hmm. I had this really interesting experience with someone writing a comment on one of our videos on YouTube. They wrote this really nice comment about how much they love the song and the band, but then they basically said exactly what you just said: “I don’t understand why you have to be putting all of these identity politics and labels on things.” I wrestled with it for a while, but then I wrote back saying, “Thank you so much. You know, I wouldn’t describe it as ‘putting labels.’ I would just say that all of my favorite country music and musicians just try to bring the truth of their lives to the music.” The person wrote me back saying, “Oh, I get that. Thank you for taking the time.”

Now, obviously, it doesn’t always go like that! [Laughs] That was like the world’s best case scenario of that conversation. He felt heard, I felt heard, everything went great. I mean, why do you want to hear Tim McGraw and Faith Hill sing “It’s Your Love”? It’s because they love each other! For real and in real ways. It’s beautiful, and you feel the truth of it. Yes, there’s an entirely different question here of how authenticity gets constructed. It’s complicated. That said, I do believe in bringing your truth to the music. If we all agree that that’s something we love about country music, then we’re going to need to find a way to let everybody who makes the music bring their truth.

Photo Credit: Carole Litwin — (from left to right) Tami Johnson, Karen Pittelman, and Elana Redfield