Squared Roots: Kevin Morby Tells a Tale of Harry Dean Stanton

Roots culture cuts a wide swath that expands far beyond music, and Kentucky native Harry Dean Stanton is a living testament to that. Any list of roots icons would have to include him, if only for his performances on screens big and small in everything from Cool Hand Luke to Gunsmoke. But what only the die-hards know is that Stanton was a musician first, playing harmonica and guitar, and doing the old-school troubadour circuit back in the day. His musicianship even creeps into his acting work, from time to time, which is exactly what he was hoping for.​

Born in Lubbock and raised in Kansas City, Kevin Morby has a good bit of the Heartland in him, as well. As a musician, Morby played a part in both Woods and the Babies before branching out on his on a few years back. He recently issued his third solo set, Singing Saw, which finds him looking to his roots in Bob Dylan and Neil Young even while he stretches his wings to reach new heights.

Bold, unexpected choice you've made here with Harry Dean Stanton. I dig it. Let's hear you defend it, though. What is it about this guy that makes you think “roots music hero”?

[Laughs] To preface it, I just have to say that he's one of those people that, for the longest time, I didn't even know who he was. I'd seen him in a lot of movies, and he kind of became one of those people who you become familiar with the face, but you don't really concern yourself with the name because you feel like you already know them. Then, one day, you finally learn his name and it's, “Oh, that's that guy's name. I had no idea he had a name even.” [Laughs]

[Laughs] He was just this leather saddlebag that was always there.

[Laughs] Yeah, exactly. He's just one of those incredible actors who can pull that off. I think the thing about someone like him is that he is just who he is. He sort of plays himself all the time, which is kind of rare.

Anyway, a long time ago, when I was in a band called the Babies, we played this Western-themed art installation in a clock tower in New York. And they wanted us to pick a movie to be projected behind us while we played, and I picked Paris, Texas, because I had seen it recently and that's maybe the only movie where he's the lead role. I just love that movie. The soundtrack is so great. The cinematography is so incredible. So, we played with the movie projected behind us and all these photos came out of it that were really cool — him walking through the desert behind us.

A couple years later, I played at a venue in Portland and I didn't even realize until we were playing that they had this big mural of him from Paris, Texas behind us. So he's just always there.

He's like your guardian angel or something. You guys have a thing.

Yeah, exactly. Okay, then a couple of years ago in L.A., I went to Cinefamily because Kris Kristofferson was doing a Q&A. They were playing Cisco Pike which he starred in and Harry Dean Stanton is also in. I went because he was doing a Q&A and was going to play a couple songs before the movie. When I got there, I had no clue that he was doing the Q&A with Harry Dean Stanton. It kind of blew my mind. It was one of those things where Kristofferson was as together as he could be, but every question, he kind of gave a standard response … like they would ask, “Kris, what was it like working with that director?” And he would say, “It was a very fun time and we all had a good experience.”

Harry Dean Stanton, who was sitting next to him the whole time, literally never didn't have a cigarette in his mouth and was drinking wine on stage. Every time Kristofferson would give a positive answer like that, Harry Dean Stanton would chime in and say, “Nothing means anything.” [Laughs] He would say these nihilistic things and tell Kris Kristofferson to shut up. Even within the Q&A, he was the way he is in movies — this wingman. It was really incredible to see.

At one point, he told a story about when they were doing Billy the Kid and he and Bob Dylan were jogging and they accidentally jogged through the scene. It was really funny imagery. So, they did the Q&A, then they played three songs … they played two songs, then the second song, which might've been “Me & Bobby McGee,” they ended up playing it twice. Totally didn't realize that they were repeating themselves. [Laughs] It was so amazing. They finished the song and, off the mic — but it's a small enough room to hear — Kristofferson leaned back and was like, “Harry, I think we just sang the same song twice.” It was an incredible moment.

Afterward, I was alone because I went by myself … I was sitting outside at the little party before the movie, sitting there by myself just thinking, “What a cool night.” And Harry Dean Stanton sat down right next to me. It was one of those mind-blowing things. He was smoking and drinking wine, and I asked if I could get a picture with him, so I have this photo of me with him. That's my Harry Dean Stanton story. [Laughs]

[Laughs] That's pretty great. It's interesting that he did the thing with Kristofferson because, listening to his music, he's not that great of a singer.

He's not.

But that's never been a prerequisite for country music … like Kristofferson.

Right. Exactly. I think, with Harry Dean Stanton, if you watch the trailer of his documentary, throughout it, he's singing the Nilsson song, “Everybody's Talkin'.” The dude is almost 90 years old and he's got the total turkey warble to his singing, but it's really beautiful. And when I saw him perform, too. I think he's just one of those cool treasures. When you finally decide to look into him, you realize he's a singer who used to sing every night at the Troubadour. He's just this artist that's all-encompassing. He's invested in the arts and he's more of a musician than an actor, in this weird way. He's kind of more interested in that and just maybe happened to be better at acting. He's just an American treasure. And I love people like that.

I think that's a great way to describe him because he did — he made the choice early on to pursue acting because he thought he'd be able to do music as a part of that. And he was right. I'll tell you, it's kind of fun to listen to his take on “Tennessee Whiskey” next to Chris Stapleton's. If you haven't done an A/B on that …

[Laughs] Oh, man. I'd love to hear that. I just watched this video of him and Art Garfunkel singing at some celebration for Jack Nicholson, and they sing “All I Have to Do Is Dream” by the Everly Brothers. It's so good. He's just one of those charismatic people, this weird all-star.

You're right. And, if you do step outside of music and just consider his roles in Cool Hand Luke, Gunsmoke, How the West Was WonDillinger … he's got some dirt road cred. In terms of roots, he was even born in Kentucky.

Right. For sure.

I get it. I dig this choice. We can work with it.

It's funny. That's cool. I remember, in Cool Hand Luke, the first time I saw that was maybe 10 years ago, there's a scene where he's playing banjo and singing, “If you're going to Houston, then you better watch out.” I've never heard that song outside of that movie, but it gets stuck in my head all the time. He's just always there and he plants little seeds in your mind. You look behind you and it's like, “Oh, there's that guy.” [Laughs]

[Laughs] And, like you said, he was jogging with Dylan and he's been in videos by Dylan, Ry Cooder, and Dwight Yoakam. So, he is. He is always there.

Have you seen The Straight Story, the David Lynch movie?

No. But it's on my list.

It's a really incredible movie, a Lynch movie that views nothing like a typical David Lynch movie. It's so good. The whole thing is that this guy goes to see his brother because his brother's about to die, but the guy can't drive anymore, so he drives a tractor. The brother is played by Harry Dean Stanton. It's a very small role that comes at the end, but it's kind of the most perfect Harry Dean Stanton role, in a way. I won't give anything away. Go watch it for yourself and you'll see what I mean.


Kevin Morby photo by Dusdin Condren. Harry Dean Stanton photo by hermitosis via Source / CC BY-ND.

Brandy Clark, ‘Three Kids No Husband’ (Acoustic Demo)

Brandy Clark understands all of the inhales and exhales of humanity. Not the just the quick, excitable sighs that come with the first beats of a new romance, nor just the deep, shuddering moments that accompany a great loss or tragedy that leaves us struggling for air. Clark looks deeper, for those times that often go unnoticed, but perhaps say much more than labored gasps and gulps. On "Three Kids, No Husband," off of her sophomore release, Big Day In a Small Town, it's a single mother stealing away for a few minutes of oxygen on the balcony, that come drifting in through plaintive and quick pulls on a cigarette. It's a picture she first conjured on her debut, 12 Stories, with "Get High" — how, for these vibrant characters, sometimes the smallest, most savored respites can be found in an ashy drag.

Written with Lori McKenna, "Three Kids, No Husband" (featured here exclusively in a demo version) is true to Clark's representation of the world at large: There's the struggle of the single mother, balancing both a job at the diner and dirty diapers, but it's never condescending to her plight. She's tired and worn, but the blame is on the cards she's dealt, not her babies — a subtlety of motherly love that many songwriters chose to ignore or just don't understand. It's not a glamorous version of parenthood, but it's true, and Clark gives anyone raising a child (from the smallest towns to the biggest cities) the respect they deserve. "A real life hero, if you ask me," she sings. "Those kids ain’t gonna raise themselves." Just remember to breathe.

WATCH: Henry Wagons, ‘Head or Heart’

Artist: Henry Wagons
Hometown: Melbourne, Australia
Song: "Head or Heart"
Album: After What I Did Last Night …

In Their Words: "Nashville is a town full of some of the finest in music and booze. A musician's paradise! Its the perfect storm for getting in a real mess. 'Head or Heart' is a song about that time of the night when it becomes difficult to decide between your rational mind, or what's below the belt. The head or the heart." — Henry Wagons


Photo credit: Taylor Wong

LISTEN: Western Centuries, ‘Double or Nothing’

Artist: Western Centuries
Hometown: Seattle, WA
Song: "Double or Nothing"
Album: Weight of the World
Release Date: June 3
Label: Free Dirt Records

In Their Words: "I tend to gravitate toward heartbreak songs with an optimistic twist and an upbeat melody, even if that's not how I'm feeling at the time. And I do live way up on a hill where you can see the city lights." — Ethan Lawton


Photo credit: Bill Reynolds

Michaela Anne, ‘Easier Than Leaving’

In country music, a "weeper" is a real thing: a song that's somewhere between a ballad and a hopeless confessional, that places more emphasis on a forlorn guitar and rare, raw lyricism than showboat vocals (though they're often part of the package, too). Think Hank Williams' and Patsy Cline's saddest moments or, later, Townes Van Zandt's — jewels like "I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry" that struck a perfect balance on the Southern scale with barn-burning honky-tonk, keeping it all delicately teetering in line.

But then the '90s happened and, for better or worse, ballads got the Faith Hill and Shania Twain treatment — notes hit the ceiling and power bombast replaced subtle solemnity. Simplicity, this was not. Luckily, there's been a new bubbling interest in bringing back the genre's delicate, melancholy roots: most of Daniel Romano's Come Cry with Me, Andrew Combs' "Too Stoned to Cry," Margo Price's "Hands of Time," and even Miranda Lambert's "Holding On to You." Now Michaela Anne, on her sophomore album, Bright Lights and the Fame, has an LP full of them — heartbreakers so grounded in self-awareness that they never sound anything but authentic, yet never too indulgent to ring just like diary scribbles.

One of the LP's best is "Easier Than Leaving," which opens with a snapshot in time of a fading relationship: "Sitting at the table, back's against the wall / Coffee's getting colder as I wait for you to talk." Who hasn't felt that tension, taken a last gasp at peaceful air before they fully breathed in the inevitable reality they knew was coming? With a clear quiver, Anne, who moved to Nashville from New York City two years ago, reinvents the lost age of those weepers in the way someone equally schooled in both the forebears — like Williams and Cline — and its modern folk interpreters — like Gillian Welch and Conor Oberst who carried the emotive torch when mainstream Music Row was too busy belting — might. "Easier Than Leaving" might not change her lover's mind and force them to stay, but it will just continue to help put soft, strummed country sadness back on the map.

Derek Hoke, ‘Trouble in Mind’

If you live in Nashville — specifically East Nashville — then Derek Hoke is your eminent host, with his weekly $2 Tuesdays event at the 5 Spot serving as your best bet to catch a smartly curated collection of emerging talent, drink cheap beers, or make an unexpected musical discovery. (Usually, it's all of those things.) But he doesn't just throw the party; he makes its soundtrack, too. Hoke appears on stage most Tuesdays, where he works through a catalogue of songs that shudder, shake, and groove with the steely composition — and slick propriety — of boogie-woogie kings like Roy Orbison. There's a classic touch and reverence for the dying rock 'n' roll tradition of occasionally keeping it clean — crisp lyrics, tight production unmarred by fuzz, tasteful riffs, and unwrinkled blazers — with an emphasis on putting the grit where it belongs. And that's in a dirty guitar vamp or wail of the harmonica.

Nowhere is this tactic more apparent than on "Trouble in Mind," off of his new third album, Southern Moon. With mouth harp courtesy of Willie Nelson's right-hand man, Mickey Raphael, the song slinks in with a bluesy roll that Hoke's smooth vocal croons right over. Like the Black Keys on "Howlin' for You," Hoke knows the power of a good Lightnin' Hopkins-era riff sidelined by a thumping drumbeat to propel a song straight to both the balls of the foot and the gut.

"I feel it down in my soul, into my heart, out of my head, I'm always thinking of you," Hoke sings. He's got trouble in mind, alright, but it's the music itself that hints at just what kind of mischievous behavior he might be after.

Squared Roots: Ryan Beaver Hails a Hero in Kris Kristofferson

Of all the country music legends in the world, there’s something truly special about Kris Kristofferson. He was — and is — a walking paradox. Gentle, yet rugged, poetic, but grounded, his personal spirit always pervaded his professional pursuits, bringing with it an air of wonder that reflected the sly, seemingly kind knowingness of his eyes. Whether on his solo songwriting or his Highwaymen collaborations, Kristofferson’s inscrutable gift will forever be enshrined in songs like “Sunday Mornin’ Comin’ Down,” “Jesus Was a Capricorn,” “Me and Bobby McGee,” and “Lovin’ Her Was Easier (Than Anything I’ll Ever Do Again).”

Up-and-comer Ryan Beaver knows a hero when he hears one, and Kristofferson tops his list … so much so that his new RX LP includes an ode simply titled “Kristofferson” (replete with an intro of “Jesus Was a Capricorn”). In it, he frames the paradox in lines like, “You can’t hide a poet’s broken heart in rolled up sleeves” as he traces the life and soul of a man he deeply admires.

Scholar, soldier, songwriter, pilot, actor … they just don’t make them like Kristofferson anymore, do they?

No, they don’t and I don’t know if there ever will be another like him. He was a renaissance man and his legacy shows that.

Even after he left the Army, he split his time between pitching songs in Nashville and flying helicopters in South Louisiana. Can you imagine taking all of that on?

Ha! No, I can’t. That makes me feel like the different hats I balance aren’t too hard when comparing what I do to that schedule.

Because he had a master’s in English literature and a fondness for poetry, it might seem natural to expect a less earthy, everyman style of storytelling from him. What do you hear in his lyrics that reflects the sort of classical side of his nature?

The ability to be poetic but also relate to the common man is an exceptional gift and something I struggle with myself. It’s a true sign of integrity to the song while hitting the human heart with life experiences anyone can get.

You captured his spirit pretty well in the song you wrote about him. What sparked that?

Jessi Alexander, Jon Randall, and I got together one day to write and just started talking about Kris and his career. We could’ve easily talked about music all day, but somehow that led to us talking about moving to Nashville. We talked about how it can be such a tough town, at times, but wouldn’t change it for anything. The song really just blossomed from there. I think there is a little of all of us in that song, and it’s a tip of the hat to the great Kristofferson, as well.

It was such an honor to hear that the family asked Jessi to sing our song to kick off the recent Kristofferson Tribute. It really doesn’t get any better than that.

“Thank you and good night!”

[Laughs] Yeah. Exactly.

What would you say is the quintessential Kristofferson tune? And why?

“Sunday Mornin’ Comin’ Down” is the song for me. Who can’t relate to that feeling of hurting from the events of a big Saturday night and the abrupt Sunday morning sunrise reminder we all have from time to time? The lyrics hit me so hard: “Well, I woke up Sunday morning with no way to hang my head that didn’t hurt” … so great. It slays from the first line of the song.

With him, Glen Campbell, Merle Haggard, George Jones … what’s been your experience of watching these legends drift away?

It’s bittersweet. I feel grateful to be able to study the lives/careers of these great musicians and sad to see them go. They’re legends for a reason. Their legacy lives on through the amazing body of work they leave behind. What a blessing to get to know someone through their songs? I feel like I understand the complexity of these people with each album they made along the way. I’m reminded of the saying “Don’t cry because it’s over; smile because it happened.”

Apparently, he has claimed that he wants the opening stanza of Leonard Cohen’s “Bird on the Wire” on his tombstone: “Like a bird on the wire / Like a drunk in a midnight choir / I have tried in my way to be free.” If you had to pick some of his lyrics for your tombstone or, let’s say, your Twitter bio, what would they be?

I love what he said in the song “Jesus Was a Capricorn”: “If you can’t find somebody else, help yourself to me.” It’s the idea that I can carry the burden for others. It’s a selfless line and also relates to the story of Jesus taking on others’ sin.


Ryan Beaver photo courtesy of the artist. Kris Kristofferson photo courtesy of the public domain.

Luke Bell, ‘Sometimes’

Where does "throwback" end and "reinvention" begin? Somehow, we can smell music that's too stuck in the past, like the musky odor that lingers on a pair of thrift store corduroys: They look nice on the hanger and all, but don't really work for modern life or wear well with the times. Luke Bell, who grew up in Wyoming's ranch culture and now lives in Nashville, has plenty of vintage sheen — a deep, honky tonk-meets-soda shop croon that hiccups and yodels along, a penchant for innocent flicks of piano and steel guitar that swing and sway through tales of hurt and heartbreak where the melody keeps the glass wet but cheeks dry.

But "Sometimes," the first single from his forthcoming self-titled release on Thirty Tigers, doesn't sound like something queued up on your granddad's radio. Swirling Buddy Holly quirk and Elvis Presley quivers into his classic country constructions, there's a freshness to his interpretation of the genre, as if instead of attempting to resurrect a bygone era, he's just trying to pick up where it might have left off, using a levity and acuity that is often best gained by those who study their forefathers without trying to purely emulate them. There's a purity to "Sometimes," too, that's stripped of the sarcasm often attached to anti-Music Row arbiters who worship Waylon Jennings but translate it all into a cartoonish vision of what could have been — the only bitterness here is what Bell feels for the woman whom he loved but had to leave, his "watermelon woman" and his "cornbread queen." Nothing musky-smelling about that.

Brandy Clark: Sassy, Sentimental, and Sultry at Sold-Out Nashville Show

The thing about shows in Nashville is, even though there are sometimes way too many of them happening at once, local artists gone big often try to do something special for the hometown crowd. So, for her second-ever Music City show with a full band, Brandy Clark played the songs from her upcoming album (Big Day in a Small Town, out June 10) last night at a sold-out Basement East, and it was, indeed, something special.

Coming off the wild success of 2013's 12 Stories, Clark had a high bar to clear with her sophomore set: making a record that would please not only her loyal fans, but also her major label, music critics, and radio programmers. Based on what we heard last night, she has cleared that bar with room to spare. It really is a record with something for everyone, as the crowd — which included representatives from all those demographics — was equally responsive to the radio readiness of “Girl Next Door” and “Love Can Go to Hell,” as well as the stone cold country of “Drinkin' Smokin' Cheatin'” and “Daughter.”

Because Clark wields sass so well, as evidenced again and again in this new batch of songs (“Big Day in a Small Town” and “Broke,” among quite a few others), it would be easy to peg her as a certain kind of songwriter. But she's no one-trick pony; she also knows how to get to the real heart of a matter, even when the story isn't her own. “Three Kids No Husband” and “Since You've Gone to Heaven” fit that bill very, very well. While the sassy and sentimental perspectives were both present on the 12 Stories tunes, this time around, Clark sneaks in a third glance in the form of the sultry-as-all-get-out love song that is “You Can Come Over” which she sang the hell out of last night.

After making her way through the BDST material, Clark closed her set by reaching back in the catalog for “Get High” and “Hungover” because songs about weed and booze always, ALWAYS go over well with the country crowd. In fact, they went over so well that the calls and applause for more lingered long after the house music was already up. For Brandy Clark and everyone at the B-East, it was a big … night in a not-so-small town. And it was wonderful.

Set List
“Soap Opera”
“Girl Next Door”
“Homecoming Queen”
“Broke”
“You Can Come Over”
“Love Can Go to Hell”
“Big Day in a Small Town”
“Three Kids No Husband”
“Daughter”
“Drinkin' Smokin' Cheatin'”
“Since You've Gone to Heaven”
“Get High”
“Hungover”

SHIFT LIST: Chef Carla Hall Likes a Little Rhythm in Her Blues

Carla Hall had been on television a lot before she filmed the debut episode of The Chew, the food-focused daytime talk show she co-hosts on ABC alongside Mario Batali, Michael Symon, Clinton Kelly, and Daphne Oz. After all, she had been a finalist on Top Chef in 2008 and the fan favorite a few years later Top Chef: All-Stars, thanks to her indefatigable positivity, vibrant cooking, and cheery catchphrase — “Hootie hoo!” But reality TV hadn’t really prepared her for being filmed on stage in front of a live audience in the fall of 2011.

“I was so nervous on the first day,” she says.

Luckily for her, the DJ who was keeping the crowd entertained played something that struck a chord. (She doesn’t remember what, admitting, “I’m the worst when it comes to remembering people or their songs.”)

Whatever it was, it inspired her to run out into the crowd and begin dancing. A network executive, who was watching the scene unfold, ordered the crew to have a high-energy, Carla-specific playlist created. Now, it blares out of the speakers before almost every taping of the show. “It’s a way for me to connect with the audience, get out of my head, and loosen myself up,” says Hall, who put together this playlist to create a similar atmosphere.

Her gig at The Chew has given the Nashville-born chef a chance to hang out and cook with some of her favorite musicians, including Kimberly Schlapman of smooth-singing country quartet Little Big Town, Patti LaBelle, and Gladys Knight. “Food and music go hand in hand,” says Hall. “A lot of these guys spend a lot of time on the road, so they focus a lot on getting good food versus just having crap food from craft services.”

On this particular day, she’s prepping to tape a segment with Seal, where they’ll be cooking a blackened shrimp salad. “I’m so excited,” she says. “I can’t wait to meet him. There’s some music that reminds you of a certain time in your life. He reminds me of being in London when I was just beginning to get into food.”

Her mind is equally occupied with the upcoming debut of Carla Hall’s Southern Kitchen, which is set to open in Brooklyn, New York, in late April. Inspired by the cooking of her birthplace — she now divides her time between her home in D.C. and New York City, where The Chew is taped — the restaurant will specialize in Nashville hot chicken. “Because it’s a Nashville thing, there has to be country music,” she says. “It will range from bluegrass to country rock and country pop, as well as blues and R&B — some old; some new.”

It’s a far cry from what Hall listens to in the kitchen when she’s cooking. “I want something that’s really low-key, because I want to hear the food make sounds,” she says. “If I have something in the pan, I want to hear it sizzle. But if all the food is done and I’m plating up, that’s another story. Then the music becomes much more upbeat, as I shift into party mode.”