Lily Meola is Lucky to Be Living This Life

For the cover of her new album, Lily Meola wanted to lie across a lily pad, but not just any lily pad. Something like the gigantic Victoria amazonica, which has enough structure beneath it to support the weight of a person. After searching the internet and calling botanical gardens around the world, she happened upon a place in Tennessee that allowed her to achieve her dream.

It’s an apt metaphor for Meola’s debut album, Lucky to Be. The Hawaii native has found support in her adopted hometown of Nashville through the likes of Jamey Johnson, who appears on the new album, and through performances at CMA Music Festival and the Grand Ole Opry. Meola draws from all eras of country music – one of the songs, “Daisies,” is inspired by ERNEST’s “Flower Shop,” while “Tumbleweeds and Chewing Gum” is a duet with Willie Nelson. Lukas Nelson, a longtime family friend, also lends his voice to the charming “Mar Vista.”

Meola earned a national breakthrough on America’s Got Talent in 2022 with her original song, “Daydream,” which was written as a way to show support to her struggling friends as well as to grieve her late mother. While writing the new songs for Lucky to Be, the Maui native learned that you have a one-in-400-trillion chance of being born with your exact genetic makeup.

“That sounds like such a wild statistic, right? You’re like, ‘Where did they come up with that?’ But it really stopped me in my tracks and made me think about life differently, and approach the record so differently,” she says.

BGS caught up with Lily by phone a few days before the release of Lucky to Be.

Let’s start with the song “Lucky to Be.” There’s that opening line, where you’re recalling a moment of seeing the shooting star through an airplane window, which I think was a real-life moment for you. So, what were you thinking about when you wrote that song?

Lily Meola: Honestly, that song has so many different little meanings and moments in it. Yeah, that first line – actually, each line – in the song is a real life-moment. I was actually on my way to Nashville to write. At the time I didn’t live here, but I spent a lot of time here over the last 13 years and it felt like a second home to me. But I had been away for a while and I didn’t have a record out.

I was like, “Okay, am I doing the right thing?” There’s always like a little bit of… I wouldn’t say doubt, but I’m always looking for signs that I’m on the right path. On the flight, I looked out the window. It wasn’t even like I was staring out the window. I just looked for a second, and this shooting star went by. And I knew. I was like, “Okay, this is a good sign. I’m still on the right path.”

That’s got to feel good to know you had a little bit of validation that high up in the air.

Yeah, exactly. I didn’t know if that was even possible. It’s just a wild experience to see it, so that’s the first part of the verse, and the next part of the verse actually ties into the first line as well. I lost my mom in 2020 to cancer and I try to look for the signs and everything to keep communication with her alive, if that makes sense. And so it was like a sign from her. … The next line is [about] this palm tree buried with some of her ashes at a special beach on Maui, and even though she’s gone, how lucky was I to be able to have such an incredible mom for so many years?

The whole song is just kind of looking at the bright side of the wildness of life and the next line is, “how lucky are we to feel chaos and peace and everything in between.” … Whatever it is we’re going through in life, whether it be the good, the bad, the ugly, it’s all just part of this experience and journey of being a human. Regardless of it all, we’re all just lucky to be here in the first place, and I think that we lose sight of that within our everyday hustle and bustle of life. And so it was a good reminder for me. I struggle with depression, and I needed that reminder in that moment, that this is all just a part of the journey.

Where do you get your drive to keep forging ahead? Where does that motivation come from?

That’s a good question. It’s literally just a part of me, I guess. I’ve been playing shows since I was 10 years old and I haven’t really looked back. I just had one foot in front of the other and kept going. I have a lot of things I’m interested in in life, but it’s what feeds my soul, and I’m addicted to it, I guess, in a healthy way! [Laughs] I don’t think I could really do anything else, because of how special it feels, and how natural it feels to me.

What were your gigs like when you were 10 years old?

I got my first gig at 10 and it was before a movie at a film festival. And then I just started getting little gigs here and there. I had a weekly cafe gig in my teens. I had a bar gig on Friday nights. I’m from Maui, which is a small island, and so I just kind of popped around all the different places that you could perform and did little shows. Then I did conventions, like Toyota would come and they’d bring their whole company. Anyway, it just evolved and I just kept doing it. Different events, private events, parties. I’d walk around with my little sound system everywhere. [Laughs]

Not a typical teenage life in Hawaii, playing corporate gigs. That’s a cool story.

Yeah, it is, and I loved every minute of it, and I think that’s what kept me going. I’m truly obsessed with what I do. I love every aspect. I love to write, I love to record. I love to perform. I think maybe the only part I’m not that interested in is the business side. [Laughs] So, you find the right partners for that, but I just love what I do and I can’t imagine a life where I’m not doing it.

How did you connect with Willie Nelson?

It’s a small island, and he lives there, and our families are friends. So they came to my gig, and he sat in and sang “Crazy” with me. After the gig, he handed me a napkin and it had a few songs written on it and he was like, “If you’d like to record any of these, let me know.” I was like, “Oh my gosh, of course.” We ended up recording some stuff, but what we had done that day was corrupted. There was some situation that happened with the sound board that made the files unlistenable and unusable. So we’re not going to be like, “Hey, well, you want to come back and do that again?”

So fast forward a couple years, he was making his duets record, To All the Girls…, and he invited me to come and do a song with him. I flew out to Austin and we recorded “Will You Remember Mine?” It’s a song that he wrote, and one of the songs that was on the napkin, I’m pretty sure. Then he took me out on the road with him to promote that record and it was just incredible. It was the best experience ever, and I’m so grateful to him and his whole family. They’ve all been so lovely to me, and taken me under their wings, and showed me that I could love what I do even more. It’s been a beautiful journey with them. I’m forever grateful.

“Tumbleweeds and Chewing Gum” feels like a really full circle moment on my record, coming back to honoring how grateful I feel for that time. His voice is just so, so sweet on it, and his guitar playing is just one of a kind. And having a perspective on a song like that, from two different people in very different parts of their lives and careers, it makes the song have so much more depth to it, and meaning for me.

He’s the perfect voice for that song, because tumbleweeds and chewing gum are gonna be around forever, and the music of Willie Nelson is gonna be around forever, too.

Yeah, exactly. There’s all these things in life that’ll stick around, but we’re here for just a moment. And we might as well do what we love, because it’s gonna end at one point. The line in it that resonates with me the most is, “You and me will turn to dust and all our shiny things are gonna rust, so love me just because.” It’s so true, and we forget that.

I watched your video for “Never Want This to Change,” and I was thinking, have I ever heard Jamey Johnson sing harmony before? I can’t imagine he does that very much, but he sounded great. What did you like about hearing your voices together?

Oh, Jamey is just… I use this quote for his voice: “It’s as if God has favorites.” There’s something to it where it’s so soulful, but it’s gritty, and also feels like you’re getting a warm hug at the same time. Does that make sense? [Laughs] I love him, and he’s been a friend of mine for many years. I’ve always wanted to do a song with him. We did something years and years ago for a Christmas record he did. This song just felt perfect for his voice, and I’m just so happy that he’s on it.

Some people think you have to suffer for your art. Have you ever bought into that theory, that you have to suffer in order to be a great songwriter?

No, no, I don’t think so, but I do think that without darkness, how can you fully appreciate the light? There’s definitely songwriters out there that haven’t had tragedy, but they’re just poetic and it’s a part of their being. But when I write with someone who shares a similar experience, or has been through something hard in life, the songs are just different. There’s an understanding there, but I will say, when I write with someone who hasn’t, it also brings out a light-hearted side of me, as well.

There’s a line on the album that says, “It’s lucky I’m crazy for you,” and later you’re singing, “you’re lucky enough to find you and I,” and of course the album title is Lucky to Be. So I get the sense that feeling lucky is more than just a line in the song for you, and I wondered what makes you feel so lucky these days.

It’s just an accumulation of everything, all the things I’ve been through. All of those lyrics just naturally ended up in the songs. I just pinch myself daily that I get to live this life and do what I love. Again, that statistic made me really think about life and understand how lucky I really am.


Photo Credit: Jimmy Fisco (lead image); Bailey Roberts (alternate images)

Good Country Catch-Up: Tucker Wetmore, Jo Dee Messina, and More

When we’re listening to new country music, we love it when a singer’s personality shines through. It’s even better when we have a chance to catch up with them over the phone or a Zoom call, ready to hear about their inspirations and aspirations.

Since we’re now over halfway through 2026, it seems like a good time to revisit five of our favorite Good Country interviews so far this year. It’s our first ever Good Country Catch-Up:

Braxton Keith

The Texan singer-songwriter’s brand of country – and his new album, too – is another fine example of the current thriving neo-traditionalist scene. If you like Keith Whitley, George Strait, and Ronnie Milsap then Braxton might be right up your alley.

“I really was attracted to these older artists because of the storytelling, but also they have a technical skill about their writing – and their melodies,” he says.”Some of their melodies are pretty insane that I was trying to emulate, longing to hear again, or to make new.”

Read More


Jo Dee Messina

After more than 10 years, the pop country icon returns with an excellent new album, Bridges. Whether taking a narcissistic partner to task, warning about the dangers of self-medication, or setting the record straight on scripture, the triumphant singer-songwriter explores life’s complexities with a signature mix of grit and hard-fought joy.

Speaking about the lead single, “Some Bridges,” she explains, “With that song, we were in the writers’ room, and somebody brought up the idea that you can’t be burning bridges. But what if they’re meant to burn? What if that bridge leads you to pain and abuse, or to a job that sucked the life out of you? Forgiveness is for us, we’re not built to carry the weight of unforgiveness, but you can forgive from the other side of the bridge.”

Read More, and check out our list of 10 of the Best Jo Dee Messina Songs here.


Hudson Westbrook

A new EP, a platinum No. 1 hit, and a commitment to sounding “different than everything else” are driving the fresh-faced star’s success. The smash “House Again” is an emotionally complex ballad rooted in the experience of a kid watching the fallout of their parents’ divorce. Plus, Westbrook has developed a rootsy R&B side to his music, too.

Looking forward, the Texas native says, “I have like 120 songs and a lot of them are pretty good. I’m not saying they’re all for me, but I finally did what I should have done and that was sit back, find my key, find the way I like to write, really be intentional about what I’m writing. I wrote a song called ‘Nowhere Bound’ that is probably one of my favorite songs. It’s like, I never stop in any city and don’t ever slow down.”

Read more


Tucker Wetmore

There’s more to ask Tucker Wetmore about than women, whiskey, and blondes versus brunettes. Peel back the layers and you’ll find a thoughtful, hard-working artist rooted deeply in faith and family with a careful sense of public image, monitoring how and what he presents. While building his brand as a new artist, he’s learned the value of saying no.

“I account for my faith in pretty much all the decisions I make,” he says. “If I could give advice to any artist coming up – and I’m still making my way there – my biggest piece of advice is, ‘Say no to things that don’t feel right or don’t make you look like you.’ … At the beginning it’s really hard to say no to things, because you want every opportunity there is. But now I’m saying no to a lot more, saying yes to the correct things, and trusting my people. They know who I am and what we all want to build together, and it makes it a little easier.”

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Stephen Wilson Jr.

A 46-year-old former microbiologist and Golden Gloves boxer, Stephen Wilson Jr. native stands out with probing lyrics and an experimental sound to match. He grabbed an unlikely spotlight with the 2023 album søn of dad, then grew his audience with a magnetic live rendition of “Stand by Me” on the CMA Awards last year. In 2026, his song “Gary” touched a nerve among audiences who appreciate and admire the people who don’t do fancy, but do get things done.

Speaking about the story behind the song, Wilson says, “I was driving down a highway and I saw a memorial billboard sign and it said ‘in memory of Gary,’ and there was a picture of a boy who was probably 16 years old. It was just really heartbreaking. I could feel the sadness and the heartbreak and the family’s plea to keep this boy alive in any way possible. … I couldn’t help but say out loud in the car, ‘Dang, there ain’t a lot of boys named Gary these days.’ That’s where my brain started subconsciously turning Gary into a subspecies of human. And then honestly, the song just fell out.”

Read more


Photo Credit: Tucker Wetmore by Chase Foster; Jo Dee Messina by Madison Sharp; Braxton Keith by Benjamin Humphrey.

Thomas Csorba is Bringing Tender Country Back

Thomas Csorba’s new album, Tender Country, is a tip of the hat to a gentler time in country music, when songs about family life and nostalgia were easier to find on the radio dial.

For this album, his fourth, Csorba (pronounced Chor-ba) drew songwriting inspiration close to home – specifically his wife and two young sons. Raised in Houston, Csorba naturally found an early affinity for Guy Clark, Townes Van Zandt, and Don Williams, all of whom came up in that city’s live music scene. In 2019, Csorba graduated with an English degree from Baylor University in Waco, Texas. It’s no surprise that his literary leanings are evident in his lyrics, while his low-key vocals fit right in with his musical heroes.

“I’m obsessed with Don Williams, and what I love about Don is that it sounds like he’s sitting down on every recording, every vocal delivery,” Csorba says. “The thought and spirit behind this album was like, ‘Let’s make a record like those Don Williams records that I want to listen to when I’m doing laundry.’ I’m not in the business of making ‘exciting music,’ or what the world says is exciting. What’s exciting to me is something disarming and something thoughtful.”

Now based in Dallas, Csorba will hit the road later this summer with fellow Texas artist David Ramirez. In the meantime, calling in from a family vacation in Colorado, Csorba chatted with Good Country about his responsibility to share good music with his kids, the revelation of Tony Rice, and his long-held Grand Ole Opry aspirations.

I like that kind of comfortable, relaxed feeling on this record. What was the vibe in the studio during these sessions?

Thomas Csorba: It’s funny how relaxed and comfortable it was, in contrast with how quickly we worked. Most people would think that when you’re trying to record 10 songs in two days it’d be pretty uptight and stressful, but the goal was really like, “Hey, I got two extra days, let’s go record whatever we can.” Because I felt so comfortable with the guys, because I felt so comfortable in the studio, and because the players are so damn good, I was able to say, “Hey, here’s the next song.” Everybody charts it and I’m like, “All right, you want to try it?” And by the third take, it’s like, “All right, that feels good.”

Obviously, we live in a world of perfect and auto-tune and Melodyne and AI integration into Pro Tools. And, for better, for worse, I can’t understand how and why. I just can’t see myself getting into that. I don’t have the time or energy, so I’d much rather turn and burn with guys in the band, overdub a couple things, and what comes out of it is like, “Oh, this feels nice.”

I was curious about “Homemade Margaritas,” because to me it sounds like the spirit of Guy Clark and “Homegrown Tomatoes.” Was he an influence on you?

Yeah, absolutely. When I was a kid, my mom sang Willie Nelson songs to me. The mother-son dance at my wedding was “Mammas Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys.” She’s a Texas gal and loved Jerry Jeff Walker and Willie and all those guys. She knew about Guy, but my older brother, Will, who’s a phenomenal old-time player, who’s wicked smart and wicked talented – he’s the kind of guy that’s frustrated with me and doesn’t think I’m cool because I have words in my songs. He’s quite the purist, but he was the one who introduced me to Townes Van Zandt’s music when I was 14 or 15 years old. And my parents are rolling their eyes, thinking the older brother’s corrupting Thomas.

I fell in love with Townes and my brother was like, “Great, if you like Townes, you’ve gotta like Guy and Blaze Foley and Rodney Crowell.” Then I went down that deep dive and his response to that, he just kind of walked through with me and said, “If you like all these guys, and if Townes is your favorite and Guy is your favorite, you’ve got to like the people they were obsessed with.” So, Lightnin’ Hopkins and Blind Willie McTell, and this kind of lineage.

I don’t know how relevant this is, but the big through-line there is that everything I love, in some way, comes from the bedrock that is Black American music. Guy certainly embodies that, Townes certainly embodies that. Guy was a big influence, and Texas Cookin’ is one of my favorite records of all time. Especially on “Homemade Margaritas,” I’m like, “Man, let’s do something fun like that.” … Anything I can do as a songwriter to have somebody listen to my record and be like, “Oh, this reminds me of Texas Cookin’,” mission accomplished in my book.

Since Good Country is on the Bluegrass Situation, I do have to ask about “Tony Rice & Beans.”

Hell yeah! I wrote that song with Matt Tedder. He plays guitar for me and he’s a phenomenal thumbpicker. He can play Western swing stuff. He played all over my record, has toured with me, and has been a dear friend for ages now. Matt knows the songbook. If I get booked for a private gig, and I know I’m gonna have to play covers, I bring Matt because he knows every word to every Merle Haggard song, and I can just sit there in a cowboy hat and strum.

He can tell where I am musically and what I want musically and point me in the right direction. All that to say, over the past 10 years, especially, a lot of our heroes from the ‘70s, who made those recordings that I love, have passed away. Jerry Jeff and Merle and obviously Tony Rice. For half of these folks, like in memoriam, it’s like, “I’m going to go listen to Jerry Jeff today,” in honor of Jerry Jeff, and I know exactly what deep cut I want to listen to.

Other people of that era have passed away, and I’ve been like, “Man, I know ‘Church Street Blues,’ but why have I not done the deep dive?” That was Tony Rice for me. When he passed, I did the deep dive, and Matt was there to hold my hand and point me to the right records and tell me what to listen for, because I’m much less musically advanced, as a way to put it. So, he pointed me through those records and I just fell in love. It made me want to start trying to practice guitar again, and get better flat-picking, which I am still a beginner at.

I think it’s because I was so new to the idea of Tony Rice that I was like, “Why is there no song called ‘Tony Rice & Beans’?” So, Matt and I wrote that tune and tried to shoehorn about as many references from the country and American songbook as we could. In Matt’s favorite line, the fact that we fit “The mule and the grasshopper are eating ice cream” from “Stay All Night, Stay a Little Longer,” from Bob Wills and Willie… It’s like, “What the hell does that line mean?” I don’t know, but there it is in my song, too.

Is it fair to say that one of the obligations of fatherhood is introducing your kids to good music?

Oh, totally! Maybe this is hyperbole, but I’ll say it anyway: There’s no better feeling as a father than your kids sitting in the back seat and saying, “Dad, can we listen to ‘Working on a Building’ but the Stanley Brothers’ version?” It’s like, ‘Dude, you’re not even four. Why do I want to cry right now?” Our oldest son turns four in July, and he’s requesting Dolly Parton and Linda Ronstadt and the Trio records, and loves Doc Watson.

Obviously he wants annoying brain rot songs, as well. There’s this song called “Chicken Banana” that he’s obsessed with that’s just terrible. We listen to soundtrack stuff and even in movies, it’s like, “Yeah, let’s watch Robin Hood, and let me tell you about Roger Miller.” It makes it much more enjoyable for me. … I think our kids need to listen to stuff they don’t understand, and I think they need to sit there in adult conversations about music and about art that they may not understand. But they’ll sit there and they’ll absorb it.

I just think my responsibility as a parent is to put the right things in front of them and bring them alongside of where I am creatively, where I am socially, and not draw the line between what Dad listens to and “Dad music,” and what the kids listen to and what “kid music” is. Because it’s unfair to them. It’s unfair to me, too. So, that’s my spiel on kids listening to good music.

I did want to ask about “He Would’ve Loved This.” In country music, there are a lot of songs where Dad is talking about the lessons he’s learned, or saying something with wisdom, but this song has a list of action items that show love. He’s trimming the trees and checking the gravy, and so on. Who were you thinking about when you wrote that song?

I was thinking of my granddad. We called him Papa. He passed away when I was in high school. My oldest son carries his name, which is really sweet. The guy was a chain smoker since he was 12 years old, and worked drywall in Canada after he moved over from Hungary. He’s got this amazing story, and because of his history and his background, his whole spirit was kind of like, “Isn’t this awesome?” Even the little things. And that permeated through all of his life.

You know, he was certainly a crotchety old man at times, but there was a sense of gratitude that was kind of unfathomable, literally. I couldn’t understand it, even if I tried, just because of where he came from. All he wanted was to survive and start a family one day, and there he was watching me grow up and taking me to baseball practice, and trying to correct my attitude on the golf course as a 10-year-old. It’s like, the fact that he was there embodied that gratitude.

So, as my wife and I are watching our boys grow up doing all these menial, seemingly throwaway things, I have to remind myself that if Papa was here, he would be beaming with joy.

You’re not even 30 years old yet, and I know time passes fast, but do you consider yourself to be a nostalgic or sentimental person?

Yeah, I’m a “hoarder lite.” I hang on to things. On this record cycle, I’ll be transparent here, it’s like my big dream – if there’s any record I’ve put out so far, this is the one that would bring me to the Opry. I think it just fits the spirit of the history of the Opry. That’s been a dream for a long time. I’ve wanted to do that, and my manager and I talk about it, literally, every phone call.

The other day, my wife said, “I understand the historical significance, but what’s the deal? Why do you want to do the Opry so bad?” In the same way I talk about these records being handed down to my kids, I was kind of like, “I really want to have done it. I really want my kids to be like, ‘Dad played the Opry!’” Not to look cool, but mostly as a nostalgic thing, to get them to come and stand side stage, whether they understand it or not.

Those moments of nostalgia, in conjunction with the moments of nostalgia around the house, paint a really idealized, probably, but really beautiful picture of what I am up to, what I want to do, and how I want to show my kids I’m going about life.


Photo Credit: Alex Csorba

Andrew Sa Knows His Debut Album Is Yours, Too

Andrew Sa’s musical career can be traced by a series of loops. The California-born, Chicago-based singer-songwriter first fell in love with music as a small child, listening to classic rock and country stations with his father, a retired touring musician. A few years later, he’d transition from listener to performer at his mother’s karaoke bar, where he’d charm crowds with Patsy Cline covers.

His broadening musical interests would lead him away from country in his teenage years, something he also attributes to feeling out of place as a queer person in an outwardly conservative, queer-unfriendly genre. The musical community he encountered in Chicago, where he landed after a stint studying theater in college, challenged the notion that there was no place for Sa in country. Immersing himself in that community led Sa to meet another musician who would be pivotal in his life: singer-songwriter Patrick Haggerty, who performed as Lavender Country until his death in 2022.

Sa tells Good Country that it was Haggerty, in particular, who offered him a sense of permission to make country that encompassed both his queerness and his love of the genre. And that permission emboldened and inspired Sa, who released his debut full-length album, American Rough, via Bloodshot Records on June 26.

American Rough takes the hallmarks of great country – intimate storytelling, colorful characters, a reverence for the emotive possibilities of the voice – and makes it Sa’s own, thanks, in part, to producer H.C. McEntire, who imbued Sa’s songs with a timeless quality utilizing unfussy arrangements with subtly countrypolitan flourishes.

Below, Good Country catches up with Sa to chat about signing to Bloodshot, losing Patrick Haggerty, and finally releasing a long-awaited debut album.

You made a big announcement in March, sharing that you’d signed a record deal with Bloodshot Records. How did that come about, and what does it mean to you to be on the roster of such a storied label?

Andrew Sa: I had heard records from Bloodshot Records, like the Justin Townes Earle records and Neko Case records and the Sarah Shook & the Disarmers records, but I didn’t know about Bloodshot as a label until I met a good friend named Kelly Hogan. Kelly has been on Bloodshot and she’s a part of a couple of other Chicago bands, but she’s a dear friend. She’s currently backup singing for Mavis Staples on tour, but she’s like a Chicago/Atlanta legend locally. She sang backup for Neko for many years and sang on a bunch of her records.

When I met Kelly – gosh, maybe 2018, 2019 – she was the one who had started talking up Bloodshot Records to me. But it wasn’t until we began shopping the record for a little while that Bloodshot approached us. Bloodshot, over the last decade, they have been going through it, and so they have what we would call the “new” Bloodshot. They’re owned by an umbrella company called Exceleration that also owns Kill Rock Stars, Yep Roc, and a bunch of other independent labels.

We were chatting with the folks at New West, and that didn’t go where we wanted it to go, but one of the guys from New West – he was very supportive of the record – he said, “I’m going to send this over to my buddy Howard at Bloodshot.” So, it’s funny how it went around to come back to Bloodshot, because Bloodshot is in Chicago. And then it was just kismet, honestly. Once we started talking with Howard, it just seemed right on the money. Alt-country – let’s do it, you know?

It sounds like American Rough was many years in the making, and that some of these songs are older than others. Was there a moment when you realized you might have a record on your hands, or when everything clicked into place?

Other than two songs – one of the singles, “Under You,” which was written for me by my friend Liam Cazar and then the song “Gorgeous Things” – other than those two songs, all of the other songs were written for the record. I’ve been dreaming of having a debut record for a decade now, and maybe more, but when I was a beginning songwriter back in 2011/2012 I would write song after song and, between the two of us, none of them were very good. But I would compile the list and I would say, “This is going to be the record, and I’m going to title it this.”

So, to answer your question, I probably got all of that out of my system before this actual record happened. Most of the songs, as I said, were written during the window of time that we were working on the record, ever since I started chatting with our lead producer and one of my co-writers, H.C. McEntire of Durham, North Carolina. That would have been about 2020 and the record was finished in 2024. Then, we finally hooked up with Bloodshot in 2025. The characters across this album are within the last five, six years of my life, so yes, it is something that spanned quite a long period of time, but the record itself took a long time to make. We really took our time making it, so the songs themselves, while they are new to everyone else, they aren’t necessarily for me.

Yeah, I’m not sure the average music fan realizes how much time artists often spend sitting on their music and waiting on a release date. Given what you just described, what are you feeling in advance of finally getting to drop a proper debut project?

I feel like this is very surreal. For lack of a better expression, at the risk of sounding cliché, it’s certainly my dreams coming true. I’ve been so excited to get these songs in the ears of people, and especially these recordings. I had such a deep, fulfilling experience making all of this with my co-producers and all of the players on the record, and I’m just so excited to share it.

My excitement grows with every single that I’m releasing, because people – at least the people that are in my sphere – are really enjoying it. It’s also unnerving. I do find myself anxious at times, just because you do all of the work and then you put it out there, and then it’s not necessarily mine anymore. It’s everyone else’s, and it’s up to them to love on it or not. I didn’t think that it would take me so long to have a debut record, but I really think that I did it the right way, for me. I’m kind of a late bloomer of sorts and taking my time has always really served me. I hope that that is reflected in the work for other people when they hear it.

To me, there is definitely a positive side to being a late bloomer. You’ve accumulated life experience and wisdom, and I would assume you would also have a stronger, fuller sense of who you are and what you want to make. Does that resonate with you?

Yeah, I grew up as a music lover, and in high school I started doing theater as a way to express myself. I went to college for theater and, while I still was interested in music, all of the skills that I developed as an actor didn’t set me up as the person who writes the story; it set me up as someone who could interpret a story. The reason I bring this up is because it took a lot of time and a lot of work – and, I would say, even failed attempts – to develop my voice as a songwriter and to really figure out what it is that I want to say and how I want to say it.

Then, along with that, I was developing my vocal instrument and understanding what is the true voice that I want to share, as opposed to all the voices that I’ve played throughout my past. A lot of the education that I got in acting and the experience of acting really helps me as a performer. I know that to be true. It’s just taken a long time to develop my voice – both singing and as a songwriter – and my unique voice that wasn’t me playing a character.

A moment ago you mentioned the singles you released ahead of the record, and one of those is “Lavender Cowboy,” a tribute to the late, great Patrick Haggerty. Talk about someone who knew their own voice! I know that Patrick was a mentor to you and it sounds like he was an important figure in your life. I would love to hear about the writing of that song and also what comes to mind when you consider his legacy, both as an artist but also as someone who was important to you personally.

Are you familiar with his music? Did you ever get a chance to see him perform?

I did, and I actually got to interview him once, years ago. It’s one of the true highlights of the work I’ve been able to do over the years. It really meant a lot to me.

Then you know just how kind and present he was. Patrick has a vast, loud legacy of his activism, which was always so inspiring to me. However, Patrick and I seemed to connect over tenderness, for lack of a better word. Humbly, I’ll say one of the things I consider to be one of my superpowers is my ability to be tender, to convey tenderness, to encourage tenderness, especially at a time like now in the world. That was something that we certainly aligned on.

I didn’t have many supportive male figures in my life growing up, especially when it comes to my queerness and uniqueness in that way – and thus my voice, my perspective. Patrick would often say, “I am your stepping stone to lift you up.” He was always affirming me. I didn’t realize just how much I craved that and needed that from, especially, someone like him, of his age and his experience in life. We don’t have a lot of our gay elders because of a lot of things, but specifically the AIDS epidemic. I often felt very lucky that we still had Patrick for as long as we did, considering he was such a slut back in the day. [Laughs] Country music was hugely important to me until I was a teenager and then it was no longer necessarily cool to me, and I went in search of other things and found a lot of inspiration in many other genres and artists. But when I met Patrick – I was asked to open for him – witnessing him and his stage show gave me permission to return to country music.

“Lavender Cowboy” was the last song written for the record. I knew I wanted to write a song to remember Patrick. I imagine that the reason that I like writing elegies is because of my affinity in my teen years for Rufus Wainwright, because he does that so well. I’ve written a few now. I wrote a song called “Dark Phoenix” about my first boyfriend, my high school sweetheart, who’s no longer with us. I wrote a song, even, about the fictional character Jack Twist from Brokeback Mountain.

In any case, the idea is to keep these characters, these people, alive after they’re dead or gone. Every time I sing “Lavender Cowboy,” I’m able to talk about Patrick. He is alive and with us in the room, if only for that three-and-a-half minutes. I knew I wanted to write a song to keep his memory alive. I also knew that I wanted to write something that wasn’t just sad. I wanted to write something that people could hear and feel pride. I wanted them to feel lifted, and I think that H.C. and I accomplished that.

Just to be nerdy, I write a lot in 3/4 or 6/8, so I really wanted to write an up-tempo song in 4/4. I went to his celebration of life, which was out in Bremerton, Washington, and I brought my tenor guitar out there, because I was gonna have some downtime in my hotel. I wrote the first verse out there and then I wrote the pre-choruses back in Chicago at the Old Town School of Folk Music, then [H.C.] and I wrote the chorus together, right before the day before we were going to record it.

You shared how Patrick was able to show you that there is a place for you in country music, and I know you’ve had a lot of involvement with the Cosmic Country Showcase and the country scene in Chicago. How does that community factor into where you are now, on the cusp of releasing your record?

I am forever grateful to the Chicago music community, both the fans of Chicago local music but also very much so the players in the community. I don’t know what the cultures are like in other cities, but Chicago is such a supportive place. Even though we are always going to be competing for certain opportunities, we’re not competitive with each other.

I do need to mention that I got my start in Chicago by making my start, and it’s something that I would encourage more people to do if they can find the opportunities to do so. My friend Dylan Matracia – he lives in New York now and goes by Matracia – we met working in a restaurant in Boystown, Chicago, and we both wanted to break into the music community. We were both young songwriters, baby songwriters, so we decided to start our own queer music acoustic night in Boystown at a bar where we knew the owner. That ran for two-and-a-half-years, and it was called Second Date with Dylan and Andrew. The reason I bring that up is because it really gave me the confidence to go out and try to get other opportunities, and it also gave me a platform that people could come and witness me at my earliest stages. It’s really hard to imagine how you get your first step into anything … especially as a queer folk artist.

When I started doing the Cosmic Country Showcase, that was the same year that I first opened for Patrick, and my return to country music was the year that Cosmic Country started. I remember asking Sully Davis – who’s one of the organizers of that event and currently my manager – he was the one who was booking the Hideout at the time, who booked me to open for Patrick Haggerty. I’m actually forever grateful to Sully for so many things. I said, “Hey, I know you’re doing the Cosmic Country Showcase. I’d love to sing like a Reba song or a Wynonna song or something.” Within a couple of years, now I’m the host, or one of the hosts. I was really searching for a queer audience for so long, and it wasn’t until the Cosmic Country Showcase that I realized that my audience was broader than that. I’m so grateful to that community who comes out to Cosmic Country for giving me that, showing me that.

Speaking of engaging the live music community, you have a string of shows planned for this summer, like the release day show at Union Pool in Brooklyn and then a late June show at the Hideout in Chicago, which you just mentioned. What do you most look forward to as you anticipate these performances?

It’s likely obvious that, since I’m sharing these songs, I’m very proud of them, so that’s one of the reasons I’m really excited to play them. I think that they concisely capture who I am, and hopefully they are open enough for folks to see themselves in them and make them their own as well. That’s what I love to do with music. I’m very excited to play places that I’ve never played before, because the few short tours that I’ve been on, just the sheer experience of meeting new people in new places – and seeing that what I do works there, too – is one of the most fulfilling, life-affirming feelings.

I’m very excited to play New York, specifically, because I’ve always had a love for New York, but also a fear of New York. And I dreamed of having a physical record to sell for so long. I’m very excited about having it in my hands, to give to someone else, of course.


Photo Credit: Alexa Viscius

The Working Songwriter: Dale Watson

Our guest this week was born in Birmingham, Alabama, but, just like Davy Crockett, got to Texas as soon as he could. Dale Watson began his musical career playing the clubs of Houston before decamping to Austin and becoming a fixture in the live music capital of the world. The music machine in Nashville never fully embraced Watson’s traditionalist combination of Western swing, rockabilly, and country, but he’s built a devoted cult following the world over on his own. It’s a style of music that he calls “Ameripolitan.”

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Watson has toured with all the greats: Merle Haggard, Johnny Cash, Willie Nelson, and Kris Kristofferson. He’s appeared on The Late Show with David Lettermen, Jimmy Kimmel Live!, and of course Austin City Limits. He’s performed at Stagecoach, Bristol Rhythm & Roots, and a host of other festivals.

He was a 2005 Austin Music Hall of Fame inductee and he was awarded the title of Texas State Musician in 2007. He founded the Ameripolitan Music Awards in 2014. The Austin Chronicle calls him their “local honky-tonk hero” and Saving Country Music says that “Dale Watson is all about keeping the honky-tonk traditions alive.”

I got a chance to catch up with Watson a few months ago to hear about his musical journey so far.


Photo courtesy of the artist.

Are the Brudi Brothers More Cowboy Than You?

With three-part sibling harmonies and acoustic arrangements that harken back to the music of the 1940s, the Brudi Brothers are still somehow right in step with the modern era.

Seattle-based brothers Johannes, Conrad, and George Brudi charmed millions on social media with “Me More Cowboy Than You,” a catchy and clever number written after a winter trip to San Francisco. In the midst of tech workers in puffy L.L. Bean jackets, the brothers couldn’t help but notice the occasional random guy in 1960s cowboy attire. The anachronism naturally lent itself to some gentle ribbing. Who among us hasn’t seen someone, camera in hand, doing a country fit check?

When “Me More Cowboy Than You” took off on TikTok in January 2025, the Brudi Brothers already knew how to sing loud and hold a crowd, giving them a runway to a touring career. They’ve signed business deals with Mom and Pop Records and CAA, but they’re still leaning toward the DIY aesthetic. (For example, their best friend from school is their tour manager; he even built out a trailer for them.)

@brudibrothers Wrote a mean song because we’re bad boys. Let us know if you want to hear more of it #folk #country #americana #blues #fyp #fypシ #guitar #seattle #LA #local #localmusic #harmony #bass #nationalguitar @Welles ♬ original sound – The Brudi Brothers

In the summer of 2025, the brothers broadened their audience on bills with fellow former busker, Sierra Ferrell. They’ll join her on dozens of dates this summer, too. Last November, the band made their Nashville debut at the Ryman Auditorium on a bill with 49 Winchester and Noeline Hofmann. While the brothers weren’t familiar with the history of the venue, being from the Pacific Northwest, they are well-versed in the golden era of country music.

“Being in the back of the Ryman, we saw all these photos of these legends of the national country scene from the ‘50s and ‘60s and ‘70s,” Conrad Brudi says. “In the photos, you can see that you’re standing in the same doorway as the photo was taken. That was pretty exciting.”

Already this year they’ve opened select concerts for The Head and The Heart, headlined a club tour, and confirmed a pair of hometown dates in Seattle warming up the crowd for Kacey Musgraves. They’ve also brought in one of their favorite folk musicians, Eleni Govetas (violin and percussion) to tour with them, adding not only musical dexterity, but also a hint of instrumental mystique.

Good Country tracked down the Brudi Brothers by phone somewhere in Ohio, as they spent a day off driving to their next gig to promote their new Dark and Stormy EP.

When you hear the phrase “dark and stormy,” you might think of that literary line, “It was a dark and stormy night.” Or you might think of a rum cocktail. Now it’s the title of your EP released in April. What was it about that phrase that kind of sparked your interest?

Conrad Brudi: Actually a dream that Eleni was having. She was talking in her sleep while we were camping, and she said, “Who’s your Mr. Handsome Darkened Prairie?” – a weird character in her dream that was like a sexy version of Mr. Clean. I woke her up, like, “What’s going on?” And she said, “It was like this sexy, bald guy on a burnt prairie.”

[The title] “Mr. Handsome Darkened Prairie” would be a little bit too avant-garde. So I just changed it and wrote a song about a guy we used to busk with who died, from the perspective of his dogs. This guy was a real piece of work. Basically, there were some girls that liked him, but mostly just his dogs liked him. And I figured his dogs must miss him. So I wrote that song sort of about these two dogs who stuck with him despite the fact that he was kind of a bad guy.

You’ve been performing since you were young, right? How old were you when you started?

CB: We have been doing this since we were teenagers. I was 16 or 17 when I started. George was 14. So we have over a decade of busking and learning traditionals and standards and all these folk songs of jazz and ragtime, and bluegrass standards. We busked a lot in Europe. We were, at times, one of very few American acts in a city at that time. For much of our busking career, we’ve been sort of a novelty in town. And so coming back to America, it was daunting, not knowing how we would be accepted in the actual American music community.

How did you get linked up with Sierra Ferrell?

CB: It was just being part of the same busker circuit. All of her friends are buskers or in that community, so we know so many people who busked with her in various groups that she was part of or leading. We’ve sort of missed [crossing paths with] her for years now, but we’d always known about her and saw her online stuff and heard stories about her. So we met her on the first of May last year, officially, and we played a show with her in Albuquerque on May Day.

George Brudi: But how we got linked up is a lot less romantic than just happenstance. It was our agent who linked us up.

CB: We had been told by bookers before that we should sign with their booking agency because we could play with people like, say, Sierra Ferrell.

That’s a good pitch, right?

CB: We said, “Nah, we’ll pass on this one.” They’d say, “I guess you’ll never play with Sierra Ferrell.” So we ended up playing with her anyway.

At the Exit/In show in Nashville, you played “Moon Over Montana,” and it’s not that often you hear a Jimmy Wakely shout-out. What made you want to record that song for this EP?

CB: It’s one of those songs that does well busking, and we enjoy singing it. And it’s a fun, three-part harmony tune. Then you have that cool violin part for it. So, it was sort of thrown in last minute, actually. We were trying other songs because we wanted to put one cover on the EP. We were trying all these other things. We tried recording “Goin’ Up the Country” and we didn’t really like that. Then we tried “Moon Over Montana.” It came out naturally and sounded much better than anything else that we had tried, cover-wise, that session.

Listening to that song on the EP, you’re an impressive whistler. How did you learn to whistle?

CB: From cowboy movies, like The Good, The Bad and the Ugly. Ennio Morricone, “The Ecstasy of Gold.” I loved whistling that when I was a kid. That was my favorite movie, and we had really good acoustics in the bathroom where we went to school. That’s where I learned to whistle.

At that show in Nashville, you were playing originals, but you pulled out a Lonnie Johnson song and a Lead Belly song and a Sons of the Pioneers song. How did you discover this wealth of music? Where did you hear about these older artists?

CB: Our grandparents. We lived with our grandparents, and our grandpa was a Dixieland banjo player and harmonica player. Also our dad had a lot of CDs, and played fiddle and guitar. We just grew up with it. Some of it was the atmosphere we were in that led us to discover the kind of music we actually related to, as opposed to just listening to whatever our friends in school were listening to, the Top 40 or something. I think all of us have an aversion to music that doesn’t feel good to us. I don’t know how else to say it.. We all don’t listen to a whole lot of music, but when we do listen, we’ll obsess over one artist or one song or one album. And so it’s not necessarily a wide breadth, but it’s a deep trench. [Laughs]

George, when did you gravitate towards playing the upright bass?

GB: It was a little more than a year ago, right before we played “Me More Cowboy.” I was telling Johannes that I should get an upright bass and we should sing into one microphone. The bassist standing in the middle, then two guitars on the side, and we sing three-part harmony. And then I got the bass without really realizing you actually have to learn how to play upright. So, this last year, I’ve been trying as fast as I can to figure out how to play the instrument.

How did that go for you? Did you pick it up pretty quick?

GB: I think I picked up the basic technique of it quickly, then I plateaued really heavily. I’m slowly digging myself out of it, because it’s hard to make notes, but to have them be in tune is the harder part.

How did “Me More Cowboy Than You” change the game for you?

GB: It’s the reason why we’re able to tour now and why we have a record deal and all that stuff. It’s like, that’s to thank for it. But I hope that it’s seen as a jumping off point, and isn’t just like the thing that people recognize, and then they’re like, ”All right, moving on.”

Are you getting that vibe? It seems like it fits in pretty well with a general show.

CB: It’s more of our concern that the suits will see it that way. “Well, write another hit,” you know? … There was even a write-up in a big magazine that put an article out saying that “Me More Cowboy Than You” was clearly about our experience in Nashville. I looked into it. The writer was from London. It was just sort of him guessing.

I noticed as soon as you played that song in Nashville, all the phones came out. “The flickering screens,” right on cue. It’s got to feel good to have a song that everybody’s excited to hear. What is it like to travel the country with a song that people love?

GB There’s nothing really to compare it to. We played the Ryman last November and when we played that song, looking at the stained glass windows and the crowd of people in the beautiful theater, that was a pretty cool moment to realize, like, “Wow, this is the reason why we’re here.”


Photo Credit: Kat Vandergriff

Artist of the Month: Jo Dee Messina

Jo Dee Messina wants to know where the real cowboys are.

“Well, are they in some greener pastures?” she asks on “Where the Cowboys Ride,” a spicy sendup of Tecovas-rocking poseurs and a standout on Bridges, Messina’s first album in over a decade, out June 5.

Sometimes cheeky, often affecting, Bridges condenses a lifetime of lessons into 12 tight tracks. Whether she’s taking a narcissistic partner to task (“It’s All About You”), warning about the dangers of self-medication (“Message in a Bottle”) or setting the record straight on scripture (“The Jesus I Know”), Messina explores life’s complexities with her signature mix of grit and hard-fought joy.

Lead single “Some Bridges” is a power-pop-country belter that recalls the triumphant highs of 1998’s I’m Alright, which spawned three consecutive No. 1s and cemented Messina as one of the leading voices of country pop’s golden age. Like “Bye Bye,” Messina’s indelible ode to putting “a lead foot down on my accelerator” and leaving a bad relationship in the rearview, “Some Bridges” reminds listeners that self-preservation sometimes means burning things down.

“You have to learn to forgive, but do you go back to that abusive situation?” she says. “Do you go back to that addiction? You don’t have to subject yourself to these things.”

Jo Dee Messina is our Artist of the Month for June 2026. She sat down with Good Country to talk burning bridges, her “sweet” relationship with Ella Langley, and what she hopes fans will take away from this new era. Check out our interview and don’t miss our Essential Jo Dee Messina playlist below, too.

Why was now the right time to put out new music?

Jo Dee Messina: Because it was done. [Laughs] I’ve been writing a lot with people, and [my co-writers] are just so encouraging. We’d write a song and they’d be like, “Man, you should record this.” It happened so many times, and I was like, “Well, I think I’m at a stage right now where I have time I can dedicate to a project,” releasing the songs and a tour schedule to support it. It just seemed like the right time.

Do you feel like you’ve gained confidence as a writer as your career has gone on?

I’ve always been a songwriter. I do believe that in the last few years, my songwriting has had time to develop and I’ve written a lot more. I’ve had more time to write, so I’ve had a lot more content.

To hear songs like “Some Bridges” on the radio kind of brings tears to my eyes, because it’s like, I actually wrote this. I actually wrote the songs on this record.

“Some bridges are meant to burn” is a great lyric. Do you feel like you’ve had to burn bridges in your career?

I wouldn’t say career. But with life, sometimes there are situations that aren’t beneficial, or jobs or that really take the life out of you. I think everybody has experienced that. And it doesn’t have to be heavy. It could just be like, “I feel like my talents aren’t being used, and so I’m going to move elsewhere.”

With that song, we were in the writers’ room, and somebody brought up the idea that you can’t be burning bridges. But what if they’re meant to burn? What if that bridge leads you to pain and abuse, or to a job that sucked the life out of you? Forgiveness is for us, we’re not built to carry the weight of unforgiveness, but you can forgive from the other side of the bridge.

“Where the Cowboys Ride” is such a fun song. Did that song come out of any experience in particular?

It’s funny, because it’s not portrayed in the song, but the truth of that song is that a friend of mine went down to Lower Broadway [in Nashville] one weekend and came back and had his foot in a sling. I’m like, “What is the deal? What happened?” And he’s like, “I wore my cowboy boots down to Broadway this weekend.” I was like, “I’ve never seen you in cowboy boots. You wear sneakers every day.” But he dressed the part.

There’s a line in the song about how you don’t see them around here on a Friday night. I want to see the guys that are slinging dirt for a living. I want to meet the guys that will lay their life down for their family. All the things that a true cowboy does.

Everyone’s certainly throwing on the cowboy boots right now. Any theories as to why country music is having such a moment?

Country music tells the story of life. The messages don’t change as far as the relatability to different generations. Dolly Parton wrote “I Will Always Love You” in the ’60s, and then it came back in the ’90s, and people are still cutting it. You ask seven-year-olds and they know that song because their parents are singing it. With some songs, the emotion and the life story behind them doesn’t go out of style.

Of course, some of your older songs have been getting renewed attention as well. You recently performed “Lesson in Leavin’” with Ella Langley at the Ryman Auditorium, and then the two of you interviewed each other at Country Radio Seminar (CRS). Can you tell me about your friendship with her?

That started off with us messaging each other online. She sang “Lesson in Leavin’” on TikTok, and I reached out to her. We talked about writing together, but then life got crazy. Then when she played the Ryman she reached out to me and was like, “Hey, do you want to do this deal with me?” And then she did CRS and asked if I wanted to do that.

I think it’s just a mutual admiration. I’m really proud of what she’s doing and how she’s handling it. We both know Jesus, and we both love Jesus, and so I’m able to have that connection with her, and just say, “Hey, if you need prayer, I’m here. If you need a safe space, I’m here.” It’s a sweet friendship.

“If He Knew Jesus” is one of a couple songs on that album that takes up the topic of faith. What’s the backstory behind that song?

I’ve been a single mom for a while, and it’s difficult because you can’t split yourself up. Especially if you have more than one child, you can’t go to one’s recital at school and one’s hockey game, so one of them is always missing something. Someone had asked me if I would ever consider dating somebody, and my first response was that he would have to love Jesus. And so in these conversations with other moms is where we came up with the line, “If you knew Jesus, there’d be no raising these babies alone.”

I started to cry in the writing room when we wrote that. I was like, “That’s the saddest thing,” and then I went on to other examples: “He wouldn’t crush you beneath all that he did,” all of the hurt and pain and abuse and whatever, where Jesus raises us up. He protects us, and He cares for us, and He puts us first, and He dies for us.

What’s the best thing someone can tell you about what your music means to them?

I think, “It gave me hope. It made me not feel alone.” That would be the greatest thing. “It made me not feel alone in my situation,” whether it’s a happy situation, a lonely situation, a feisty situation, because the songs cover everything. Keep in mind the enemy tries to separate us so we feel alone, and when we’re alone, all sorts of crazy things go through our brains.

Who’s the enemy?

Satan. It’s like, if you get alone, your mind starts going, “Why am I alone? Oh, because nobody likes me, or I’m not good enough.” All these crazy thoughts go through your head, and so you don’t start to think, “Wow, I’m beautiful, and I’m worth it, and I’m treasured.” That’s why it’s called the enemy of who you really are and who God created you to be. He’s working against it.

Are there experiences you’ve had in life where you felt like you were alone?

I think we all have. So I just want to be sure that people know you’re never alone. Even if you don’t see another person in the room, you’re still not alone. Period. God’s word tells us you can never go too high, too low. He’s there. We just have to open our hearts and see it.

I work with teenagers and I remember a teenager saying, “I don’t even think my parents hear what I say.” It was such a sad statement, and it inspired the song “Can Anybody.” In my inner circles, I’ll call that song “The Teenager’s Lament,” because they all feel invisible. It’s why they’re doing things on social media and hanging out with certain people. It’s why they sometimes don’t talk to their parents.

That’s where the first verse came from, and then the second verse came from myself: “I’ve got a history of trying to save myself/ But God, if you’re listening/ I’m screaming out for help.” That’s me. I’m a doer, and I have a history of thinking, “I’ll fix it, I’ll fix it, I’ll fix it.” But there are some things I can’t fix. You can’t fix someone else’s health or their mental state. After my mother had anesthesia, she was confused, and I couldn’t fix that. I tried and drove myself crazy. I’d made her photo albums, and I made her song playlists, and, and I couldn’t do it. She was still confused. It made me realize the humanity of myself and the limits of a human.


Photo Credit: Madison Sharp

Braxton Keith’s Real Damn Deal is Country Through and Through

After years of building up a fan base through high-energy shows and viral social media posts, nobody is more ready for Braxton Keith’s debut album than… Braxton Keith. Raised in Midland, Texas and living in Nashville, Keith is only half-kidding when he says he’s probably listened to the new project five thousand times. Now he’s eager to hear what everybody else has to say.

His fans won’t be surprised that Real Damn Deal sounds like country through and through. Released on Warner Records on May 15, the album picks up the momentum of Keith’s gold-certified 2024 single “Cozy” and the unlikely embrace of his reverent cover of George Strait’s “The Chair.” Although he was skeptical about re-recording it, Keith found that his take on “The Chair” is serving as a gateway for his younger fans into the trenches of classic country.

Keith co-wrote a majority of the songs on the new album, but also included compelling material by Country Music Hall of Fame member Roger Miller, Americana all-star Jim Lauderdale, and some of Music Row’s most creative writers – such as Jessie Jo Dillon, Tony Lane, Liz Rose, and Morgane and Chris Stapleton, among many others. In this interview with Good Country, Keith talks about discovering country’s legends through his grandparents, learning to love the English language because of dyslexia, and hearing those inescapable ’90s country comparisons.

On this album, “Under Them Neons” sets the scene of a night in a country bar. It has a reference to Keith Whitley in it, too. He had a bluegrass pedigree, as you know, before he became a country star. Did you ever get interested in bluegrass?

Braxton Keith: I would say I have always been interested in bluegrass. Now I, by no means, am a bluegrass picker or anything of that sort, but I’ve always been interested in bluegrass, for sure. It’s such an interesting form of country music, I’d say. Very intricate, and it’s really cool to just watch. In fact, “I Ain’t Tryin’” on this record is written by Brice Long, Carson Peters, and Will Jones, and Carson is a bluegrass picker. He plays in a bluegrass band [Carson Peters & Iron Mountain] and opens up for us every once in a while.

How did you get introduced to Keith Whitley’s music?

Keith Whitley’s probably always been in the background for me. But definitely through listening to whatever was on the radio, listening to my grandparents’ old records and stuff. Keith Whitley has definitely been one that I’ve known about for a long time. I would say him, George Strait, Marty Robbins, and Ronnie Milsap … all the deep divers that you got to go in and figure out yourself.

Is that what you did? Figured it out for yourself?

I just tried to figure out what I liked the best. I really was attracted to these older artists because of the storytelling, but also they have a technical skill about their writing – and their melodies. Some of their melodies are pretty insane that I was trying to emulate, longing to hear again, or to make new.

You say you were listening to your grandparents’ records. Were they vinyl records?

Yes, sir. I don’t remember how old I was, but I remember sitting down and listening to Marty Robbins for the first time and Porter Wagoner. I remember hearing “The Carroll County Accident” and just thinking, “What is this? This is a whole different type of music that I’ve never even experienced before.” I think I was like 13, maybe even younger than that.

Every time we went over there, the Grand Ole Opry was on TV, or CMT was on at least, so we were always exposed to it. I guess I just didn’t realize what was going on until I got a little bit older. I got an iPod, and I think it was the Shuffle. It didn’t even have a screen. You just had to know what your songs were. That was the first time I really got interested in checking out music for myself. I didn’t have to listen to exactly what my parents were listening to anymore.

My mom was a big ‘80s rock person. She really didn’t like country music very much at all, because it’s very sad, she thinks. [Laughs] And my dad was listening to country music, but just whatever was on the radio. He wasn’t very specific in what he liked to listen to.

I’d read that your brothers were athletic, but you were not. However, you had musical talent. Is that accurate to say?

I would say, yeah. I tried to be athletic. I wanted to be, but they definitely had a leg up on me, on the sports and stuff. When I was a little kid we did this thing called Greater Midland Football League. From when you’re in third grade to when you’re in sixth grade you can go after school and do a football program. I never got to do that, because in third grade I actually figured out I was dyslexic. So, every day after school, I would go to classes and learn about the English language, which is probably why I ended up liking writing. So it all works out in the end. I was just a couple years behind when it got to football.

When you were learning about the English language, did you like to read too?

No. That was my big deal, that I struggled – I still do struggle – with reading. It just takes me a little bit longer and I have to really slow down and be thinking about what I’m reading to understand it. I like audiobooks a lot. Anything that I can do where I’m listening to somebody else read helps. But I would say I just liked writing. Before it was songs, I liked writing essays or whatever the assignment was. I’ve always liked writing. Coming up with my own stuff.

Did you play instruments during this time?

Yeah, absolutely. I played piano since I was in kindergarten, and I ended up playing for a while. I played for six to seven years and then I ended up quitting piano. I started piano because I loved Elton John. He was my big inspiration behind music when I was really young. I really wanted to learn “Crocodile Rock” and my piano teacher just wouldn’t let me do it. So I was like, “Man, I gotta go do something else.”

That was about the time I started picking up guitar, because my little brother was playing guitar at the time. So I was like, “Well, I’ll just go to lessons with him.” I started picking it up, got my first guitar, and never looked back. He doesn’t play anymore, but we started out together picking “Hotel California.” I remember us just sitting there for hours trying to get that thing down.

On this album, “Wind Blows” reminds me of how country music sounded in the ’90s. It reminds me of a Tim McGraw deep cut. What do you like most about “Wind Blows”?

I like the story it tells. You know, I grew up in Midland, Texas. And if there’s anything we know about Midland, it’s that there’s a lot of wind blowing in Midland. It’s kind of telling the story of how, when I lived in Midland, Midland was the end of the earth to me. There was nothing else there. And once I left, I never looked back. I went to Angelo [State University in San Angelo]. I’ve moved to San Antonio and Nashville, and we’re traveling all over all the time, just running and gunning. And the road keeps on going, you know? It’s cool to reminisce on the past, but my time in Midland’s gone and it ain’t coming back. That’s kind of what “Wind Blows” means.

Do you like it when people use the ’90s country comparison? Do you think that’s flattering? Or do you have an opinion when people say you sound like ’90s country?

I don’t have an opinion. The thing is, I don’t know if I’ve ever labeled it, which is funny to me. … You’ve heard the record. I would say it’d be very hard to pin that as ‘90s country. I would say that there’s some ‘90s elements in there, but there are elements from a lot of different dates in country music within that. I would just say we’re country, and we’re just trying to be country.

Well, you do start with a Western swing tune on this record.

Absolutely. Have you heard Jake Worthington’s new record? He has a song called “My Home’s in Oklahoma” and that one is a Western swing song. I heard that one after I’d been on a big Bob Wills kick. I just came back from Houston. Most of the rides that I do, I try to listen to different music every time. I was listening to a bunch of Bob Wills. When I heard that Jake Worthington swing tune, it was like, “Oh, son, we’ve got to have a Western swing tune on this record!”

So we called in Brice and Carson. That’s when Carson’s bluegrass magic came out. They ended up writing that beautiful “I Ain’t Tryin’” Western swing song. You couldn’t ask for a better song to start this record off. It’s upbeat, gets you in there. We’ve been ending the set with “I Ain’t Tryin’” lately, and it’s really fun. The crowds dig it. It’s a good one to just swing around to.

Did you ever get pursued to be on The Voice or American Idol or shows like that?

Not until after I was already pursuing this pretty heavily, and at that time, I was trying to stay away from those avenues. I’ve heard some nightmare stories about their contracts and how you are allowed to put out music after the show. And I just kind of knew where we were going. That’s the cool thing about being a Texas artist. There’s so many other Texas artists that are running around on the road, booking their own shows, that you can just learn from some of those guys. That’s basically what I did.

Jake Worthington [who was on The Voice in 2014] had a long talk with me about what he thought about TV and the way that it impacted his career. At that time in my career, I just didn’t think that it was necessary for me to do anything like that. I definitely think it helps put your name out there a lot more. But it also can have some hindrances sometimes.

How did you find the Roger Miller tune, “Am I All Alone (Or Is It Only Me)”?

I do believe Jamey Johnson was talking to William Beckmann one day and telling him, “Man, that’s such a great tune. You should cut that on your next record.” And then me and William ended up going and having a couple drinks, which turned into a bunch of drinks. And he was like, “Man, I listened to this song, and I’m kind of thinking about cutting it.” So I started listening to it. I was like, “Yo, are you gonna cut that song? Because if not, I’m cutting it. Like, I’m going to the studio tomorrow. I’m cutting it.” He was like, “Yeah, go ahead.” So we ended up putting it on the record. It’s one of my favorite songs to play live. It’s one of my favorite songs on the record. It’s such a beautiful song. Every time that I hear it, I’m like, “That is such a well-written song.”

Are there other songs on your record that you would like people to know about?

I would say the only other thing that we didn’t talk about is, there’s a Mae Estes collab on there, “Hurt by Heart.” I met Mae on the road about two years ago, like, less than 100 miles south of Canada somewhere, at a festival. She was singing and just blew me away. Her voice is so beautiful. She has such a great classic timbre to her voice that I knew I needed her on this record.

We’d been looking for a duet piece for a long time. Ended up writing “Hurt by Heart” [with Trent Tomlinson and Scotty Emerick] and pitched it to her. She came over to the studio one day, dressed and ready for a show that she had in Nashville somewhere. She cut her part in 10 minutes and then I spent the next two hours trying to make my part sound as good as hers. [Laughs] I just can’t brag on Mae enough. The audience that hasn’t heard Mae should definitely check her out. Her music is really good.

You’re surrounding yourself with good people. You got Mae Estes, William Beckmann, Jake Worthingon… It’s refreshing to see this new generation cheering each other on.

That’s the way you gotta do it, man. We’re all in this together. Everybody needs to be cheering each other on and helping everybody out. That’s the way I see it.


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Photo Credit: Benjamin Humphrey

From Lonesome, Gorgeous Texas Hill Country
to the World

There’s little to no stage banter when the Droptines play a show, with the Austin, Texas-based band sometimes cramming 30 songs into a 90-minute set. However, as their new album, Drought Flower proves, they still have plenty to say. Their original songs touch on broken relationships (“Old Tricks”), family grief (“Mamaw,” featuring Sarah Jarosz), and losing loved ones to addiction (“What Ate My Friend”). As a nod to classic country, there’s often a little bit of clever wordplay to offset the drama, too.

Named for the downturned deer antlers that are prized by hunters, the Droptines (rhymes with “stop signs”) first took shape with an EP release in 2019. Lead singer-songwriter Conner Arthur has since guided the group through indie albums, relentless touring, and now their debut set on Big Loud Texas, the label founded by Miranda Lambert and Jon Randall. The five-piece band hasn’t yet moved into a tour bus, though. Instead, they travel in a retrofitted school bus with upgrades that would impress any road musician. (It sleeps 10 people and has a bathroom, two air conditioners, and a built-in trailer space.)

Growing up in the Texas Hill Country town of Concan, Arthur watched countless musicians play at his family’s venue, House Pasture Cattle Company, during the summer season of city folks floating the Frio River. But the rest of the year, when nothing was really going in town, influenced him just as much.

“I learned how to be alone in Concan,” Arthur says. “I learned how to clear my mind and ignore my hunger pangs. But I would always watch and study people. Especially because if you’re driving through Concan in, say, January, and you see a car that you don’t recognize or someone you don’t recognize, you’re shocked and you want to go talk to them. You’re just caught in your own little village for so long. Having an outside perspective from my little narrow worldview was very, very important to me.”

A few days ahead of a full slate of tour dates (and just before stocking the school bus), Arthur called into Good Country to talk about what inspired the new music.

For people who haven’t been to the Texas Hill Country, how would you describe it?

Conner Arthur: The drama of the limestone bluffs, the crystal clear waters of the Frio River – man, it’s hard not to have a religious experience every other day. Especially when it rains and the floodwaters start moving. Everything there is so dramatic and explosive and chaotic. From the summer to the off-season, you have three months of complete and utter chaos, then the rest of the year is just silent. There are some days where I’d walk out and just sit there looking at River Road waiting for a car to drive by. And I was starting to freak out, thinking that I was the last person on Earth.

More than likely I think that made its way into my personal life. It’s just a large juxtaposition, and a dichotomy of high highs and low lows. But I learned how to handle it, growing up there. We didn’t get internet or cell phone service until 2012, and that’s a great way to grow up. My backyard was 200,000 acres. I could ride horses without hitting a fence line for miles. I wish that more people had that upbringing. I wish that I could provide that for my kids.

If you didn’t get the internet until 2012, then you got to experience live music at your family’s venue before the cell phones in the air and people documenting every show.

Oh yeah. The funny thing about House Pasture is [that] it’s changed hands but it stayed in the family. My biological father and my uncle started it. They failed, so my grandpa bought it from them. And then it was kind of a “break even” type of venue. It was just an addendum for someone who’s gonna go down to Concan and float the Frio anyway. Like, “Oh, we can go see so-and-so.” I mean, I’ve got scars all from being this tall and women ashing cigarettes out on my collarbone. Not on purpose!

I learned more about what I didn’t want to be, seeing the evolution of the Texas country scene come through there. I saw that evolution get commercialized in the mid-2000s, like 2005 and 2006. But when I was a little guy, I got to see the Great Divide. I got to see Gary P. Nunn. I got to see John Conlee. I got to see Earl Thomas Conley. I got to see all these really high-class acts. Reckless Kelly is still one of my favorites from that era. Robert Earl Keen, the list goes on. Even if I didn’t like it, the song’s going to be in my head. It is still red dirt Texas country. I still know every word to all these other musicians’ stuff that I’m not a fan of, because it’s just ingrained in you. You can’t avoid it in that environment.

What were you doing before you jumped into music?

I was in construction throughout high school and I’ve gone back and forth over the years when I needed money. But when I was 18 years old, my mom pretty much gave me an ultimatum. She said, “If you don’t go to college, you’re cut off.” And I was like, “Well, I don’t really care. I don’t like ultimatums.” So I grabbed my banjo and I hitchhiked the country for about a year and a half.

I got back home, and that was like going 90 miles an hour into a brick wall. The fantasies in my head were dashed out by my mom’s disappointment. She said, “You’re gonna have to get a job.” So I went back to construction for a little bit, then I joined up in the oil field. I was an oil field mechanic for about two years, and I said, “I’m not going to die out here in the Eagle Ford Shale.” So I made a decision. Just to give me some more confidence, I went to the bluegrass program in Levelland, Texas, at the [South Plains] College. I did that for two years and went home and knocked out our first EP with David Beck.

I knew you played the banjo, but I didn’t know that you had studied bluegrass.

Dillon [Sampson], our bass player, and I both went to South Plains and he’s way more of a bluegrass cat than I, but my story about how I got into playing banjo is just kind of happenstance. My older brother came into some money when we were young, and I won’t go into the details on how he got it, but it was burning a hole in his pocket. He bought this Deering Goodtime open-back banjo and it was sitting in the back of his truck. I was about 14 and I had plenty of guitars floating around the house. And I had a piano, but I never really broke through on it because it was just an instrument for me to get a song out.

I don’t know if it was the open tuning or just the fact that it’s hard to not have a good time playing banjo, but I broke through on it. I could start developing an understanding of music theory and scales. I don’t know why it made sense in my mind that it was less intimidating than 72 keys or six strings. You go down that road, and then are you a gimmick banjo player or are you good? That’s what led me to South Plains. I’m not going to disrespect the institution of bluegrass or the instrument of banjo. I’m going to do my best to play it. But I need to play more. I need to stay on it, because that is not a bike. Your agility and endurance of playing the banjo collapses if you’re not tickling it once or twice a day.

Is that the same for writing with you? Do you need to consistently write, or can you put that away for a while and come back to writing?

I’m always kind of writing in my head and building concepts, then I’ll scribble it down. I’ll more than likely lose the piece of paper I scribbled it down on, but I’ve always said if it’s worth remembering, then I’ll remember it. But I probably lost a thousand songs that way. It’s like a floodgate. I sit around and I’ll have an idea, and I’ll get a quarter way through it, blah, blah… But it’s not until the band all sits down in a room and we all have the intention to write, and these things just… “Boom!” There goes the dam.

In several of your songs, there are references to pills or addiction. On this record, you have “What Ate My Friend.” That’s a reality for a lot of people. When you’re tackling a heavy topic like that, how do you get into that headspace, knowing you’re going to jump into something serious?

A lot of that, it’s lived in for sure. I’ve had men that came before me that did it so I didn’t have to. Back to, I know what not to do now. And my brother Landry being one of them. I lost him to all that shit a couple years ago. He and I were Irish twins. The same thing happened to my biological dad’s brother. At the same age, the same exact circumstance, and they both died on their birthday.

“What Ate My Friend,” I can’t even remember writing that one, but I know that I showed up with all of it, and that’s rare. I have this band to lean on, but I showed up with every bit of that. This was all here. It’s not just about my brother, but a couple friends I have. Just like, “I know you’re on meth, dude, but why is it making you a liar?” Like, you can be honest with me, just tell me. It’s getting in the way of our friendship if you’re going to turn into a liar.

I thought there was a nuance, kind of, what I refer to as the days of country gold, the wordplay of like, “She’s Acting Single (I’m Drinking Doubles).” That’s so important in country and bluegrass music – that play on words – and that one is like, “Hey man, what’s eating at you?” All right, what’s the extreme of that? “What ate my friend?” I thought it was pretty decent, but yeah, that’s a rough one, you know, but it’s real, unfortunately. It’s real for a lot of people. And I hate that. I hate that anybody has to suffer.

You’ve been around music from the time you’re a kid, and now you’re doing this full time. What has surprised you the most about this career path that you’re on?

The main one is that there’s viability. I said this in an interview before, but I just thought playing music was a good excuse to be a loser. And then to see it all pan out! It starts to feel like work, but work is good, especially if it bears fruit, which it is, and it’s starting to even more so. But to be able to build a foundation for my future family off of the back of these songs, that right there is top tier, number one, the most important thing. I can’t be more grateful for that and the blessings that God’s given us. Just having people come religiously to your shows, and singing words, it gives you faith in live music, for sure. It is a little shocking to me, at the end of the day that I didn’t make all this up.


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Photo Credit: Jessie Addleman

The Other 22 Hours: Ray Benson (Asleep at the Wheel)

Ray Benson is an absolute pillar of American music, a nine-time GRAMMY winner whose band, Asleep at the Wheel, has defined Western swing for over half a century. In this episode of the Other 22 Hours, we talk with Ray about the “geographical imperative,” rebuilding his career from a broke-down bus to a musical institution, and the delicate balance between the craft of music and the business of image. This is an exploration of longevity, team building, and the importance of finding a “moral compass” in leadership.

LISTEN: APPLE • SPOTIFY • AMAZON • MP3

In This Episode:

– Ray Benson
– Asleep at the Wheel
– Peter, Paul, and Mary
– Pete Seeger
– Woody Guthrie
– Van Cliburn
– Lester Flatt
– Marty Stuart
– Marc Copland
– Paul Motian
– John Abercrombie
– George Strait
– Vince Gill
– Tower Records
– “The Letter Johnny Walker Read”
– Merle Haggard
– Lawrence Wright
– Mumford & Sons
– Aaron Dessner
– T.S. Elliot
– Health Alliance for Austin Musicians
– Chris Scruggs
– Molly Tuttle
– Ep. 86 – Tommy Emmanuel

Go Deeper:

Watch: View this entire conversation above or on YouTube.
Explore: Find similar conversations in these themed playlists.
Connect: Join the conversation on Instagram.

The Other 22 Hours is hosted by Aaron Shafer-Haiss (producer, mixer, musician) and Michaela Anne (songwriter, artist, creative coach). More about Aaron’s work. More about Michaela Anne’s work.


Produced by Aaron Shafer-Haiss. Original music written, performed and produced by Aaron Shafer-Haiss.

Photo courtesy of the artist.