On ‘American Quilt,’ Paula Cole Wraps Herself in Music That Reflects Her Life

Paula Cole has long explored the musical territories that inform her work, making it nearly impossible to define her. Singer-songwriter? Yes. Pop star? Yes. Interpreter of jazz standards? Yes. She’s collaborated with country legends, toured with internationally acclaimed artists, and occasionally dropped completely out of sight. Because she’s so hard to pin down creatively, Cole has managed to transcend her commercial zenith of the ’90s, when songs like “Where Have All the Cowboys Gone” and “I Don’t Want to Wait” were inescapable.

Twenty-five years later, Cole is in the spotlight again with American Quilt, which sets her impressive vocal range to standards like “Bye Bye Blackbird” and “You Don’t Know What Love Is.” It isn’t quite a jazz album, and although her writing skills are on display in “Steal Away/Hidden in Plain Sight,” it isn’t quite a folk record either. Instead it’s a reflection of the influences that shaped her musical direction early on.

“Even when I explore jazz, I like it to be a little more raggedy and raw and rootsy,” she says. “I just wanted the album to reflect all that I am, and I realized, gosh, all of these songs are different from another. How do I unify it? That’s when I remembered my mom, who is a visual artist and she’s a quilter. And I realized that the quilt is the perfect metaphor for the album, that they’re all patches of an American quilt. That’s how the title was born.”

The metaphor works for the spectrum of songs on the album, yet it’s also appropriate for the warmth and comfort it provides. Some songs are more familiar than others – and her rendition of “Shenandoah” is particularly exquisite – but it’s an album best enjoyed as a whole. By dismissing the expectations of how long a song should be, and by showing reverence without replicating what everybody else has already done, Cole has produced a sweeping and immersive listening experience. She called in to BGS from the music room in her Massachusetts home, with a photo of Dolly Parton smiling over her shoulder.

BGS: Your version of “Wayfaring Stranger” is beautiful. What made you want to record it for this album?

Paula Cole: I learned of it through listening to Emmylou Harris, and loving and adoring her. Her Roses in the Snow album was really important to me developmentally. We were on Lilith Fair together in the ‘90s and would sing on each other’s sets. And I’ve been on a few benefit concerts that she’s asked me to play. I love her so dearly. I think she’s an important American voice and we should all be talking about her much more. She kind of saves music because she brings it back to the traditional aspect of it. She keeps us whole and she keeps us real by bringing integrity back to the music.

The song came to me very intuitively and I thought, “A ha!” I can reveal some of my influences and also bow to someone who was important to me. Also I was so fed up and traumatized by the music business and it was Emmylou who told me, “Don’t quit.” You know, I took a seven-and-a-half year hiatus and thought about leaving the music business, but she was the one who said, “Hang in there.” It just happened too fast. She had this motherly wisdom for me and it made sense, and I’ve thought of her so much over my life. I love her very much.

Roses in the Snow is a familiar bluegrass album for a lot of our readers. Are you a bluegrass fan?

I just love music. So, if you asked me, “Do you like jazz?” I would say, “I love music.” [Laughs] My dad played bass in a polka band on weekends when I was little, then he would go home and play Duke Ellington on the piano or he would play obscure folk songs on banjo in my house growing up. It was always a mixture. I love all music. I love bluegrass. I love acoustic music. I love music where musicians are playing real instruments, so that’s one defining factor to me — real instruments! I’ve been touring with upright bass now for several years and I can’t go back.

Did your dad teach you how to play banjo?

No, darn it! [Laughs] I guess I could have picked it up. I mean, he played everything. He could do hambone and play nose flute and upright bass and guitar and banjo and piano. Just really a renaissance man. He exposed me to all music and there were no classifications. That was something more that non-musicians did. Musicians would fluidly move from music to music and just find the joy in all of it. He taught me that.

When I was listening to “Nobody Knows You (When You’re Down and Out),” I was curious, does that mirror your own experience to some degree? Like, you’re living the good life as a millionaire, then you find that your friends vanish when the circumstances change.

Oh sure, I’ve known that. False friends, false fans, false everybody comes to you when you’re successful. They’re flattering and they’re obsequious. They have ulterior motives, so it’s hard, and of course I’ve experienced that because I’ve been up and down and side to side…. [Laughs] All over the business! And I wanted to come back home and have a personal life and have truth and family and let the trappings fall, and to be honest.

So, I chose to walk away in a sense from that shiny pop world because it wasn’t me. I was introverted and shy. I didn’t feel like this big pop star. I was very much a musician of integrity that wanted to have a long career and a rich catalog. I had to walk away to reset and reinvent myself. So, yes, of course I relate to that song. Also I relate to Bessie Smith, and so many fantastic singers are coming from the river of Bessie Smith. You hear Billie Holiday and Janis Joplin — Bessie Smith was their favorite singer. She combines all of that beautiful roots music. And the songs from the Prohibition era speak to me, those hard times, they speak to me.

Sometimes I will ask musicians about their first guitar, but for you, I’m wondering, do you remember your first piano?

Yeah, I remember the first piano, oh my gosh. It was covered in chipped, baby blue paint. I grew up in Rockport, Massachusetts, and my dad was a teacher at a state college, and we did not have much money. I wore hand-me-downs and we got things at Goodwill. In New England — freezing cold New England — we would really skimp on the heat to save money, and they put the piano in what they called the cold room. It was like a mud room. You walk into that room and take off your coat, and the piano was in the back. And it was cold! It was cold-ass cold! And there’s my first piano.

I was quite dedicated to music, to be playing in a freezing cold room in New England. Literally, we had some fish at one point and they froze! That’s how cold our house was. We had a potbelly stove and it was just hard. We were looking for ways to save money. It wasn’t always that hard. My dad ended up changing jobs and doing better, but my childhood was formative for me. I started working at a really young age. I was waitressing at 14 and I’ve always worked. It’s not nice, struggling like that, but that piano is indelibly etched in my mind with the back of the cold room. The chipped blue piano, out of tune! [Laughs]

Did you grow up with a lot of songbooks around?

Yes, and one of my missions while my father is still alive on the planet is to comb through his fake books and real books, especially of his folk standards. He has some really interesting, cryptic and eclectic, folk books that I would love to go through. That’s on one of my do lists of life.

To me, “Good Morning Heartache” sounds like it could be a sad country song, but it was made famous by jazz singers. How did you learn that one?

It’s in the real book of standards. Those books were around, and I have a real book of standards on my piano now. Even when I was touring, or had hits, or didn’t have hits, or mothering and not being in music, I would go back to the real book just for comfort and learning. I’d let my hands go on the piano and the shapes of the chords and learn songs. I first learned “Good Morning Heartache” by reading it out of a book but then I heard Billie Holiday and even modern singers do it. A lot of people have done it. But I love it because it feels to me like one of those songs that crosses genre, just like you said. It feels to me like it could be a jazz ballad, a country ballad, a soul ballad – and often it’s recorded by R&B singers. I love that it’s universal, and I love sad music. I’m not very good at happy music. [Laughs]

You close this album with “What a Wonderful World,” which offers a lovely and optimistic message. Was that an intentional decision for you to wrap up the album with that song?

Sequence is extremely important to me, so I probably spent at least a month listening to heads and tails of the songs, and all the different possibilities and combinations. And yes, it is the perfect punctuation of the journey of an album format. I love albums – I think in albums. I don’t think I’ll ever be a singles releaser. I’ll always be an album writer and album producer. I love the art of sequence.

Again, this is a song that transpires over genre and it appeals to all audiences. It unifies people. And it was written specifically for Louis Armstrong because he unified Black and white audiences. He was a genius if ever there were one. His ability to improvise within chord changes was profound. He was joyful and elevating. I play it in a somber way, and I hear sadness in my voice, and I think it’s melancholic and ironic in a way, but yeah, we must hold on to hope. We must hold on to that thread of hope for our children and our grandchildren to make this world better.


Photo credit: Ebru Yildiz

WATCH: Pilgrim, “Darkness Of The Bar”

Artist: Pilgrim
Hometown: Tulsa, Oklahoma
Song: “Darkness Of The Bar”
Album: No Offense, Nevermind, Sorry
Release Date: June 25, 2021
Label: Horton Records

In Their Words: “The song is about the dark struggles of life, and trying see the light in those dark times. My friends Phil Clarkin, Greg Bollinger, and Todd Ruffin put the video together. It was a real hoot and good chance to get some old friends together. Most of the video was shot at a venue called The Vanguard in Tulsa. The main character was played by another songwriter, Justin Bloss, and the character of “Marie” was played by our good friend Jaime Tovar. The live footage was shot at The Mercury Lounge, where we hold a weekly residence and just a really great space to work your craft. My hope is that everyone who listens can find something in the song they can relate to.” — Beau Roberson, Pilgrim


Photo credit: Phil Clarkin

WATCH: Dylan LeBlanc, “Gentle on My Mind”

Artist: Dylan LeBlanc
Hometown: Muscle Shoals, Alabama
Song: “Gentle on My Mind”
Album: Pastimes EP
Release Date: June 18, 2021
Label: ATO Records

In Their Words: “I come from a heavy country music background. My father made his living as a writer for the Nashville Machine growing up. My grandfather in the early ’70s in his early thirties was convinced to make payments on a Gibson guitar on consignment at the local music store along with a songbook with the scales and chords and hit songs of the era inside with directions on how to play them. He loved this song and it was heavily played around the house and passed and sang at gatherings and parties where everyone was drinking and laughing and feeling no pain as they say. I love the story of this song about a drifter roaming from place untethered to anyone or anything therefore making the moment of missing his muse more pure. I can relate as I have naturally always wanted to roam from place to place and be free. I love this song so much and it holds a nostalgic and wonderful place in my heart.” — Dylan LeBlanc


Photo credit: Alysse Gafkjen

BGS 5+5: Bill and the Belles

Artist: Bill and the Belles
Hometown: Johnson City, Tennessee
Latest Album: Happy Again
Personal Nicknames: I renamed myself Spike (inspired by the bulldog with a spiked collar in Heathcliff) in the first grade and all the kids called me Spike for a few months. That was a big win. — Kris Truelsen

My name can be tricky for people (it’s like Kahlúa, but “kuh-LEE-uh”) and nicknames weren’t much of a thing until Game of Thrones came out and Khaleesi happened. — Kalia Yeagle

Which artist has influenced you the most … and how?

It’s a no brainer: Jimmie Rodgers. He’s been one of our main inspirations for years. His effortless skill in combining the sounds of the blues, jazz, and country will forever be inspiring. My favorite songs from Jimmie are the syrupy love ballads with strings and horns that lean towards being straight pop music of the time like “The Hills of Tennessee” or “Miss the Mississippi and You.” Brilliant stuff. Though I still sing many of his songs, more than ever I use his music as inspiration to break rules and to find the courage to make something unique, not tied to genre or emulating somebody else, but rather trying to be original. — Kris

Jimmie Rodgers was a huge influence on this band. More broadly, that big field of “early country music” (or whatever else you want to call it) is so full of genre-busting sounds and earnest musical experiments. Forming this band, we were very inspired by the folks that used what they had in creative ways, and worked with real fervor. — Kalia

What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?

A little over six years ago at the opening of the Birthplace of Country Music Museum in Bristol, Virginia, we shot the pilot episode of Farm and Fun Time, the PBS television show we host. At sound check I stood at the side of the stage and watched Ralph Stanley sing the entirety of “O Death” in an empty theater. It was literally just me, the sound engineer Josh, and Ralph Stanley in this tiny 100-seat theater. It was absolute magic. — Kris

Similarly, another impactful not-quite-on-stage moment for me was when we shot an audience-less Farm and Fun Time from Kris’s front porch during the pandemic. This was early on enough that folks were still figuring out how to get the most out of livestreams, but late enough that we were all feeling scared about what the pandemic meant for our families and communities, and what it meant for our relationship with live music. Sitting on Kris’s front porch listening to local legend Ed Snodderly sing his songs smacked me good, right in the heart. It had been months since I’d experienced live music, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt so grateful and moved. — Kalia

What other art forms — literature, film, dance, painting, etc. — inform your music?

I’m informed by art that says what it means, and simple, impactful works that don’t feel overwrought. That’s because my head’s a pretty busy place, and I sometimes struggle to distill my thoughts and emotions. I also think that artists can see art everywhere, so yes of course a beautiful piece of writing or gut-wrenching brushstroke can stir up the feels. And so can the chalk drawings neighbor kids make, the way this lampshade shoots light up the wall, or the angles this broom maker created when they gathered the bristles. I’m a pretty emotion-full person, but there have been periods of time when making music was just a motion and not emotion. I’m working on treating music-making more like those little moments of surprising beauty, by staying present and approaching things more playfully. — Kalia

What’s the toughest time you ever had writing a song?

Well, a lot of songs end up in the trash after being reworked to death, but I’m getting better at knowing when to move on and putting less pressure on myself to produce, which inevitably makes the work I do finish stronger. The toughest song I’ve ever written that successfully saw the light of day was probably a jingle I wrote for the regionally beloved soda pop company Dr. Enuf. It’s an herbal, lemon-lime sort of thing like Kentucky’s Ale-8. People in East Tennessee lose their minds for “the Dr.” Not to mention it’s got vitamins. It took me ages to get the jingle honed in just right, but when I did I really nailed it. The hook goes “It’s the lemon-in’, lime-a-nin’, rich in vitamin, original pick me up.” I’ve written over 50 jingles and this one is undoubtedly my favorite. — Kris

If you had to write a mission statement for your career, what would it be?

Write songs that defy boundaries, keep evolving, have faith, and quit working so damn hard all the time. — Kris

Ask, “How is your work serving others? How is it serving you?” And always celebrate growth and abundance. — Kalia


Photo credit: Billie Wheeler

LISTEN: Kyle LaLone, “Learning How to Love”

Artist: Kyle LaLone
Hometown: Watertown, New York; living in Los Angeles
Single: “Learning How to Love”
Album: Looking for the Good
Album Release Date: June 25, 2021

In Their Words: “I wrote this song starting with the title, which is how I begin most songs now. I was thinking about the earliest relationships I had been in and how I would say ‘I love you’ but had no idea what that actually meant. In the last few years I feel like I’ve gotten a better understanding of how to be a good partner, how to really show up for someone in a relationship, and that it is something I will continue to improve on. As for the music, I was going for a classic, sweet-sounding country vibe that I thought would fit well with the tender sentiment of the lyrics. And having Michaela Anne, who is a wonderful singer-songwriter, add those beautiful harmonies was the icing on top of the cake.” — Kyle LaLone


Photo courtesy of Kyle LaLone

LISTEN: Zach Person, “Wanna Fly”

Artist: Zach Person
Hometown: Austin, Texas
Song: “Wanna Fly”
Album: Zach Person
Release Date: April 2, 2021

In Their Words: “2020 was a crazy year for the entire world. All the political and social uproar in countries across the globe inspired me to write ‘Wanna Fly.’ I was listening to an episode of Broken Record (a podcast by Rick Rubin) where he was discussing protest songs, and I got to thinking about what a modern-day ‘Dylan-esque’ protest song would sound like. That thinking inspired much of the lyrics to the tune. I also wanted the song to have that big, open, and spacious feeling that you associate with sounds of the Wild West and open plains of early America. All of these elements blended together to make for a really unique but familiar experience for the listener.” — Zach Person


Photo credit: Christopher Durst

WATCH: The Deep Dark Woods, “How Could I Ever Be Single Again?”

Artist: The Deep Dark Woods
Hometown: Saskatchewan, Canada
Song: “How Could I Ever Be Single Again?”
Album: Changing Faces
Release Date: May 14, 2021
Label: Six Shooter Records

In Their Words: “This song was inspired by the sounds of the English folk band Steeleye Span. I wanted it to have a choppy fiddle sound, similar to the sound of folk musicians in the old days, and Kacy Anderson’s fiddle playing was perfect. Her voice also really adds to the heartache of this song. We wanted the drums to sound like ‘The Hills of Greenmore’ by Steeleye Span, where the chorus hits a heavy downbeat on the one, which really gives the chorus its movement and momentum.” — Ryan Boldt, The Deep Dark Woods


Photo credit: Rima Sater

Allison Russell Gives a Voice to Queer Folks and Survivors on Solo Debut (Part 1 of 2)

Within the songs of her new album Outside Child, Allison Russell delves deeply into the extreme trauma she experienced in her youth spent in Montreal both as a mechanism for personal relief, but also in the hopes that it might reach people with similar experiences.

Although she is a member of multiple bands (including Birds of Chicago and Our Native Daughters) and is an accomplished speaker and poet, the release of Outside Child marks Russell’s first solo work as a recording artist. BGS caught up with our Artist of the Month, Allison Russell, from her home in Nashville.

BGS: This is a deeply personal record. What was your writing process like?

Allison Russell: The writing process was having to delve deeply into the most painful parts of my past and childhood and history. I experienced severe childhood abuse, sexual, physical, mental, and psychological. In many ways, I think the psychological is the toughest part to unpack and defang. I don’t know that I am ever going to be entirely free of that and the process of dealing with that. What was very beautiful about this to me is that I didn’t have to go on that fearsome journey alone. My partner J.T. [Nero] was with me every step of the way. He co-wrote many of the songs on this record with me. He scraped me up off the floor when I was in the depths of it.

I have tried at different times in my songwriting life to tackle some of that material and I did on various songs with my first baby band, Po Girl, but I didn’t have the same kind of support and stability at home that I have now. I didn’t have the same amount of distance in time from the events and trauma of my childhood. Time and distance, plus boundless unconditional love that I receive from my partner, were really healing to have that collaborative sense on these songs. It is tough. It is hard to contemplate pain and trauma. That is reflected in the macrocosm of what is happening in our world right now. We are dealing with it every day with each news story of violence towards communities of color. …

We have to go into the pain of it or it perpetuates. The cycles self-perpetuate if we don’t take a stand to stop them. That’s what I’m trying to do personally. Art builds empathy and connection and it helps stop cycles of abuse when we really listen to one another and see and hear one another. It is a lot more difficult to practice abuse and bigotry. I believe in harm reduction. I don’t think we are going to achieve nirvana in this lifetime, in this world, but I do believe strongly in harm reduction and that small things can create mighty ripples. That’s why telling our own stories in our own words under our own names is so important because it can provide a roadmap for somebody else going through similar experiences.

I wish my story was unique. It is not. One in three women, one in four men, one in two trans or non-binary folks have experienced stories very similar to mine.

In “Persephone,” you sing about a lover in your youth who was seemingly a refuge from the trauma you were living through. It feels like a really loving tribute to her. Is that a story you’ve always wanted to tell?

It has become more important to me as I get older to honor those friends of our youth and loved ones of our youth and lovers of our youth who helped shape us and in this case, she literally saved my life. And I wanted her to know that. I also wanted to acknowledge that I am a queer person who is now in a straight passing life and marriage. I fall in the middle of the spectrum of orientation. I’ve been in love with women and I’ve been in love with men and I’ve been in love with trans people and I’ve been in love with non-binary people. I wound up falling in love and committing to share a life with a man, my husband.

One could assume that I’m straight, but I am not and especially in this time of increased polarization and bigotry, it is really important that people understand that nothing is black and white. Nothing is simple and you can’t assume that because I am married to a man and I have a child that I am a straight person. You can’t say homophobic things to me and have it pass. Part of me wanted to really acknowledge that publicly. I am grateful. I don’t get to be here singing today and having my child and my family if it wasn’t for that first love. She taught me how to love and that it was possible. She taught me about kindness and unconditional love. She taught me about acceptance, courage and bravery.

I’d love to know about your influences coming up in music.

Growing up, my mom was my first musical influence. She is a beautiful piano player. We had a really troubled relationship, but one of my first memories is crawling underneath her piano and just listening to her play and watching her feet on the pedals and hearing the resonance under the piano and feeling connected to her in that way, even though she didn’t know I was there. It was a feeling like the music she made was a truer expression of her than the often very hurtful words or violent things she did. That was my first sense of understanding the depth of music, that it goes beyond language.

My grandmother taught me lots of very violent, creepy lullabies from Scotland. She knew a lot of old murder ballads and child ballads and she sang me all of those songs. I loved them. That oral distillation of archetypal stories over generations and time, generally very matrilineal and passed down from mother to daughter, I connected deeply with those songs. That was my first sense of the hidden archive of the world.

My adoptive father was very repressive about what we were allowed to listen to. If it wasn’t Baroque or Classical or maybe Romantic, we would get in trouble for listening to modern music. One of the sort of transgressive things that my mom and I sometimes did was listen to Joni Mitchell or Stevie Wonder together. I have such distinct memories of holding the Ladies of the Canyon album and poring over it and reading the back and seeing Joni’s art. That was very formative music for me.

With Tracy Chapman, I was 9 the first time I heard her. I was on a trip with my uncle and I remember hearing “Behind the Wall” and just bawling because we were the family behind the wall. We were the family where there was violence and abuse and the police were constantly being called. To hear someone writing this and have this sense of recognition that this happens to other people and I’m not alone in the world and hearing her voice and her writing and poetry made me feel I wasn’t alone.

And when I left home at 15, my sonic world exploded. There were all these endless possibilities. I’m a huge Staples Singers fan. John Prine, Lucinda Williams, Emmylou Harris, Taj Mahal (particularly Giant Step/De Old Folks at Home). And Mulatu Astatke, who I’ve been obsessively listening to over the pandemic. His music is expanding my understanding of melody and structure. It is ongoing. The influences never stop and I’m influenced by my brilliant peers as well.

Has your daughter listened to these songs with you? What do you want her to learn about you from the music?

She has listened to it. One of the hard things has been having to talk about abuse with my child. I think it is incredibly important. I think that by the time we start to do that in schools, it is often much too late for the children, including me. I’ll never forget in Grade 4, hearing the song, “My body’s nobody’s body but mine,” and for me that had not been my reality since I was 3. What I want her to know is that we are strong enough to live through hard things and come out the other side of it. I want her to know that she is strong enough, in whatever struggles she faces.

I want her to know that her stories are worth telling and her experiences are of value. She is an infinitely strong being and she is part of a whole long lineage of strong women. I want her to know that. And that she is loved so much and a huge part of why I strive to do anything or be any kind of good ancestor is because of her.

(Editor’s Note: Read part two of our Artist of the Month interview here.)


Photo credit: Marc Baptiste (top); Laura E. Partain (in story)

LISTEN: Shannon McNally, “This Time”

Artist: Shannon McNally
Hometown: Long Island, New York
Song: “This Time”
Album: The Waylon Sessions
Release Date: May 28, 2021
Label: Compass Records

In Their Words: “‘This Time’ was written by Waylon. He didn’t write all of his songs. In fact, he probably didn’t write most of them, but the ones he did write were his best. I believe he was talking about a personal relationship with a lover, but as I sing it, I think of it as my relationship to the music business and my personal struggles with it as a woman and an artist. I particularly love the Wurlitzer intro and how the kick drum and acoustic guitar come in sounding like a sunny day. All of Waylon’s grooves remind me of horse gaits. This one is a full canter and the harmonica is the river running beside it. This song is the high point or key to me getting into the headspace that permits me to sing the rest of the album. For me there is relief in its directness. It’s my favorite song on the album.” — Shannon McNally


Photo credit: Alysse Gafkjen

LISTEN: Tim O’Brien, “I Breathe In”

Artist: Tim O’Brien
Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee
Song: “I Breathe In” ft. Mike Bub (bass), Shad Cobb (fiddle), and Jan Fabricius (harmony vocal)
Album: He Walked On
Release Date: June 25, 2021
Label: Howdy Skies!

In Their Words: “The project is about what you need to do to survive in America. We all need a roof over our head and something to eat, of course, but we also need love. I’ve been grateful to have Jan beside me during the pandemic. The song stresses the need to take things one step or one breath at a time, and to keep those you love close as you do so.” — Tim O’Brien


Photo credit: Scott Simontacchi