Shaped by Blues and Country, Shemekia Copeland Launches ‘Uncivil War’ (Part 1 of 2)

At just 41 years old, Shemekia Copeland is already an established multi-decade blues veteran. That’s what happens when you start performing as a pre-teen with your blues legend father Johnny Clyde Copeland and make your recorded debut at 18. As one of the primary hosts on SiriusXM’s BB King’s Bluesville channel, she’s also one of the genre’s highest-profile artists. A recent series of albums have both underlined Copeland as a star of the blues and pushed her beyond the walls of the genre, further into Americana and socially conscious commentary.

Her latest, Uncivil War, is another bold step forward. Recorded in Nashville with producer Will Kimbrough, the album features a wide range of guest performers, including Jason Isbell, Christone “Kingfish” Ingram, Steve Cropper, Duane Eddy, Webb Wilder and bluegrass legends Sam Bush and Jerry Douglas. She pushes boundaries not just with the instrumentation but the topics she covers, including “Clotilda’s on Fire,” which tells the story of the last slave ship to come to the U.S., and the title track, “Uncivil War,” is a plea for healing in our increasingly divided nation.

“Americana was not on my radar, but I grew up listening to country music because my dad grew up in Texas and loved it,” Copeland tells BGS. “I’d walk around the house singing Patsy Cline and Hank Williams songs that my dad loved, but I hadn’t really even heard anything about the blend of country and roots music until a few years ago, so I think it’s kind of hilarious that people are saying I’m crossing over to Americana. But I welcome all listeners!”

Editor’s Note: Read the second half of our interview with Shemekia Copeland here.

BGS: Over the past few albums, you’ve really stretched out musically and part of that is working with a wide range of musicians, many from outside the blues world. Let’s talk about a few of them on the new record, starting with two bluegrass greats, Sam Bush and Jerry Douglas.

SC: Oh my gosh! They are just really talented guys who make anything better. I just love those guys! I think my favorite part about them is that they exemplify something I love about Nashville: nobody cares about genre. It’s all about just whether or not it’s a good song and whether they want to play on it. And that’s it.

You think that’s notably different than other places? Do you find that not to be the case in New York or Chicago, for instance?

I have to say yes to that. I think it’s different in Nashville. People just want to play music. Down there, nobody ever even asks, “How much does it pay?” They’re just like, “What time do I need to show up?” It’s really about the music and Will Kimbrough, who produced the last two records, knows everyone in town and has played with most of them.

Jason Isbell is another great guest on this album and plays a great solo on “Clotilda’s on Fire.”

Yes, that one was a little different. We did a show at the Grand Ole Opry together, so Jason knew who I was when Will called and asked him to play on this song, and he was ready to do it. “Clotilda’s on Fire” is about the slave ship that they found off the coast of Alabama, and he’s from Alabama and we wanted him to play lead guitar on it. It just felt natural. It’s amazing how organically these things happen.

That song is really powerful and it’s just one of several very topical tunes on this record. That’s something different that you’ve really established. The first four songs are not about personal things like heartbreak, but heavy topics addressed in interesting ways. You have “Clotilda’s on Fire,” about the last slave ship; “Walk Until I Ride,” a modern-day Civil Rights anthem; and “Uncivil War” and “Money Makes You Ugly,” whose titles speak for themselves. Did you make a very conscious decision to do this?

Absolutely! I’ve been doing it for several records now. And I think the more confident I get, the better I get at it, and the more comfortable I get with saying what’s on my mind. Like on America’s Child, I did “Would You Take My Blood?” which was the first time I ever tackled a song about racism. On previous records, I did songs about domestic violence, date rape, things like that. But it feels more imperative than ever with everything that’s going on in this country now — and this was before COVID-19. This record was finished when all of this crap happened.

I was struck by the story about the Clotilda ever since the ship was found off the coast of Alabama. My ancestors came over here on one of those ships. I did my DNA and I’m 87 percent African, so I was very interested in that story. I wanted people to know about it and, more importantly, to understand why it still matters so much. The line in that song that’s one of the most important to me is “We’re still living with her ghost.” I want people to know that it hasn’t ended, that we’re still going through the same stuff and it’s very, very saddening. Heartbreaking, really.

Have you had any backlash to being more outspoken?

Oh, of course.

Do you care?

Not at all. You can’t satisfy everyone. The one thing that I’ve learned in my career is you’re going to piss somebody off. Not everybody’s gonna be happy with you. It’s just that simple, and it’s okay. Nobody wants their difficult history dredged up and put out in front of their face, but I’m good as long as I can look at myself in the mirror every day and be happy with myself.

Amidst all the great new original songs is a cool cover of The Rolling Stones’ “Under My Thumb.” How did you choose that one?

Doing that song was, for me, turning the tables on men. In fact, I actually hate it as a Stones song. I don’t want a man talking about a woman in that way — but it’s a great song! I don’t want to think of a woman being under anyone’s thumb, so the tables were turned… but one critic listened to it and said, “She’s talking about Black women being oppressed in this country.” I thought, “They’re making me sound so smart!” Same thing with “No Heart at All,” which a lot of people have read a lot into and interpreted as being about the president. Okay, but that goes for anyone who doesn’t have one.

That’s interesting about “Under My Thumb.” There’s a power to a woman flipping a song as Aretha did with Otis Redding’s “Respect.” That’s a completely different song sung from a woman’s perspective.

Yeah, to me, a guy singing that is just not right. Doesn’t work. Like, I couldn’t do some standard songs, as much as I love them. I would never want to sing things like “I’d Rather Go Blind” because, shit, I don’t want to go blind. You want to go? Get to steppin’! I don’t need you here. You know what I mean? It’s like this great love song but it leaves me saying, screw that. Peace out.

And you’d never think of Etta James as a pushover in any way! You were close with Koko Taylor, who turned some songs around as well.

She did! “I’m a Woman” was her turning the tables on men. I was devastated when we lost her [in 2009] because she always checked on me. She was so worried about me being in this business because of what she went through with her musicians and managers. Meanwhile, I’m out on the road with all these square guys that only drink herbal tea and don’t even smoke cigarettes. This was not her experience at all! I don’t think that she realized that it was just a different time. She had managers stealing money and disappearing into crack dens. She went through some stuff and wanted to make sure that I could avoid them.

You have a very interesting relationship with your manager, John Hahn, who is also your primary songwriter. How did that develop?

I met John when I was 8 years old. When my friends came around, I’d say, “This is Mr. John Hahn and he’s my manager.” Really, he was working with my father and I was just a little kid talking shit. But when I was about 12, he wrote me a song called “Daddy’s Little Girl” for fun. I started to go sit in with my dad. Now fast forward 33 years or so, and John and I talk every day on the phone, about everything. Having someone who knows me so well write songs is like having a tailor make you a suit. These songs are tailor-made to me, and I’m very fortunate to have that.

Your father was a great songwriter who wrote simple but profound lyrics that really resonated with me. Obviously you agree because almost every album you do one of his tunes, this time “Love Song.”

Yes, thank you! People have suggested I could do a whole record of my daddy’s songs, but this is my subtle way of doing it. I’ve already done ten of them. And, I got to tell you, I do believe that my little boy Johnny is my father reincarnated. He acts just like him. He’s three-and-a-half years old, and is so damn sure of himself. This kid knows who he is. He is arrogant in his confidence, and I always felt my father to be that way. Kind and sweet, but definitely sure of himself. You couldn’t tell him who he was, because he knew. And this little boy is all that and a bag of chips. By the way, my dad knew that I was going to be a singer the second that I came out of the womb.

That’s amazing. How?

I don’t know, but he told my mother when she was holding me in her arms, “She’s going to be a singer.”

And you always feel that way?

No! I did not have the confidence to be a singer. I never wanted to be in front of people. Audiences scared me. I’d always ask my dad how he could get up there in front of all those people and perform. That was always a problem for me.

But you did it from such a young age. I saw you when you were about 12!

I did, but I never was comfortable with it. And it’s now my favorite part. The music business sucks, but performing in front of people is the most amazing feeling in the world. That didn’t come to me until I got older, and became more confident in myself. I had to grow up. Eventually I realized this is who I am.

When was that? You put out your first record at 19.

It’s gotten better over the years. You’re always a work in progress. I started out as a child, and a certain confidence comes in when you’ve been doing it a couple of decades! You never ever stop paying your dues, but I’ve now accepted me wholeheartedly.

(Editor’s Note: Read the second half of our interview with Shemekia Copeland here.)


Photo credit: Mike White

BGS & #ComeHearNC Celebrate the Cultural Legacy of North Carolina during #NCMusicMonth

On the national music scene, North Carolina sets itself apart by blending the heritage of traditional roots music with the innovation of modern indie and Americana sounds. The bluegrass canon of North Carolina encompasses pioneers like Charlie Poole and Earl Scruggs, as well as groundbreaking musicians like Elizabeth Cotten, Alice Gerrard, and Doc Watson. Today’s spectrum of talent spans from modern favorites such as Darin & Brooke Aldridge, Balsam Range, and Steep Canyon Rangers, and the progressive perspective of the Avett Brothers, Rhiannon Giddens, Mandolin Orange, Hiss Golden Messenger, Mipso, and many more.

One example of how the state is merging past with present is the recent opening of North Carolina’s only vinyl pressing plant — Citizen Vinyl in Asheville.

 

View this post on Instagram

 

Built over 15 months in 1938-1939, The Asheville Citizen Times Building (@citizentimes) was designed by architect Anthony Lord as the grand center for the city’s two newspapers and radio station WWNC. Located at 14 O’Henry Avenue, the massive three-story building of reinforced concrete, granite and limestone, utilizing 20,000 glass bricks, is considered Asheville’s finest example of Art Moderne design. In 2019, Citizen Vinyl claimed the first floor & mezzanine of this iconic landmark as the future home of a vinyl record pressing plant, as well as a café, bar and record store – and is reviving the historic third floor radio station as a modern recording and post-production facility.

A post shared by Citizen Vinyl (@citizenvinyl) on

According to press materials, the building’s third floor played host to Asheville’s historic WWNC (“Wonderful Western North Carolina”) which was once considered the most popular radio station in the United States. In 1927, the station hosted live performances by Jimmie Rodgers and made his first recordings shortly before he went to Bristol, Tennessee.  In 1939, the station featured  the first ever live performance by Bill Monroe and the Bluegrass Boys during its Mountain Music Time segment.  Citizen Vinyl expects to keep the live music tradition alive in this former newspaper building, too.

Here at BGS, we’ve been committed to North Carolina music from our launch, notably with our Merlefest Late Night Jams, which are always worth staying up for. And how much do we love the IBMA World of Bluegrass week in Raleigh? Looking back on our archive, we gathered these songs from the artists we’ve covered over the years — and looking ahead, you’ll see all-new interviews with the Avett Brothers and Mipso, examine the classic country stars with roots in North Carolina, and spotlight some rising talent with video performances at the state’s most scenic destinations.

In the meantime, you can discover more about the North Carolina music scene through their website and on Instagram at @comehearnc


Editor’s note: This content brought to you in part by our partners at Crossroads Label Group.

Afro-Indigenous Songwriter Julian Taylor Connects Family and Folk on ‘The Ridge’

Canadian singer-songwriter Julian Taylor didn’t set out to make a country record with The Ridge, but the album oozes with authentic tinges of the vibrant, pan-Canadian roots music scene. Based for most of his career in Toronto, it’s not surprising that the album (produced by Saam Hashemi) feels crisp, modern, and listenable, but its inextricable linkage to place — namely, the titular Maple Ridge, British Columbia, where Taylor summered on his grandparents’ farm as a child — ensures the folky, rootsy facets of the album feel entirely intuitive, raw, and perfectly placed.

Of course, Taylor is quick to point out that the pre-genre, elemental quality of The Ridge not only stems from his decades in music or geography alone, but from his family, their shared musical connections, and his Indigenous roots. His grandparents and family members feature heavily across the eight original songs’ lyrics, and cousins Gene and Barry Diabo join the band on drums and bass, respectively, literally underpinning the entire project with a sonic connection to Taylor’s Mohawk and West Indian roots. That The Ridge is a critically-acclaimed, stunning work of country-folk is due entirely to his commitment to compassion, empathy, family, and letting all of the above stand on their own merits. 

BGS connected with Taylor via phone ahead of his Shout & Shine livestream performance, available to watch live on BGS, our Facebook page, and YouTube channel on November 11 at 7pm ET / 4pm PT. 

Watch Julian Taylor’s Shout & Shine performance above.

BGS: I wanted to start by asking you about The Ridge’s connection to place, because it sounds like your story is a pretty classic, roots music/country story — spending your summers on your grandparents’ farm in British Columbia — and the title track evokes the western wild of Canada. Can you talk about the geographical spaces you’re evoking on the album and the longing I hear for them?

Taylor: When I think about Maple Ridge, BC, we’re going back now probably thirty-five years. It’s almost as if, when I close my eyes, I can see the road leading up to the house. There’s a big hill, and my grandfather used to like old cars — it’s funny, I say “old cars,” but I suppose back then they weren’t. So there’d be a big old Buick, a Mustang, and I remember taking the Buick up that hill. You’d have to get the mail way down the driveway, literally a city block’s distance, where everybody had a mailbox and you’d grab the mail, go back up the path, past these two huge trees. I don’t know if you’ve ever been to British Columbia, but I came from Toronto going to visit my grandparents, and I was always in awe of how big everything was. The trees were bigger, the mountains were there, everything was bigger. Even the slugs were bigger! [Laughs]

[My grandparents] lived in a wonderful house, a couple of wonderful places actually, one of them backed up to the Alouette River and you could see the salmon spawn. They had farmland where they had horses and a chicken coop by the horse’s stables, fields where the horses could graze, and in the basement of the house they bred boxers — the dogs. My life would’ve been composed of getting up in the morning with my grandmother, taking care of the horses, my grandfather would take me swimming because he liked to do that at the community pool in town. After that it’d be fishing, hiking, farming, and just a lot of nature. That’s what we did. 

To me, the way you’re describing it with so much imagery, it’s really clear that these memories are indelible for you. I think that comes through the music — it’s not just that you’re text-painting to check the boxes of what a country aesthetic is, you’re painting a literal picture you see in your head. 

This is true, I didn’t set out to create a country record. I didn’t, I just wrote these words and those were the melodies and arrangements that came to my mind. It was certainly, for me, more of a folk element than a country one. 

This record feels like it bridges the gap between your life in Toronto and your experiences in British Columbia, and I mean in the way it sounds, its production, its arrangements. The music is crisp and clean and feels very polished, but there’s still this raw, sort of natural element that I feel like is the mixing of rural and city. Do you agree or disagree? 

Now that you mention it, I can hear it and I know what you’re talking about. Before you had mentioned it, I didn’t. It’s a very interesting thing, because I would say the rawness of it is because these are takes that are completely right off the floor, there’s no overdubs except for when we added the fiddle, the pedal steel, and the girls’ voices. Those were the only overdubs, because we couldn’t fit everybody in the room. My cousins Gene and Barry, they’re from Kahnawake, the Indian reservation close to Montréal, so we’d go and play, jam at the campfire, jam on the back porch, jam in the garage, and we’ve been doing that for years.

So when I asked them to be part of this record, I deliberately only sent them songs that were acoustic-based, and didn’t really tell them what I wanted, because I wanted this rawness and I wanted to sing the songs as they were. That’s why I think that particular [sound is evident], it’s a family affair, there’s a conversation between the core band that’s happening anyways. Saam Hashemi, who co-produced and engineered the record, he’s from the UK originally, he’s now Canadian, and we’ve worked together before. His production style is very pristine, the way that he captured it. That’s not deliberate, but it’s a wonderful hybrid for you to pick up on it. I hope others did and after this I hope that more do!

To me, part of this record sounding so country comes out of that Western Canada, American Midwest, Great Plains tradition of Indigenous country music and country bands that come from that region. Is that a community you operate in or interact with? Was that an influence for you, pulling from the generations-long tradition of hardscrabble, garage band, Saturday-night-at-the-local-bar Indigenous country bands of the rural Canadian and American west? 

Absolutely, I wouldn’t say that it’s the West or Midwest, for me, because it directly comes from the East, actually, oddly enough! My family are East Coast Indigenous people, my mom’s family is from Kahnawake. It does come from that kitchen party, grab-your-guitar, grab-whatever-you-got — doesn’t matter if it’s a pot or a pan. It comes from that aesthetic, for sure. Absolutely! When you research that aesthetic, it’s not necessarily a country feel, either. It has elements of country and blues. Blues is very big in that, too. The way that my cousins are playing on The Ridge, there’s a gentle sort of shuffle that’s very indicative of what we’re talking about, yet it has this kind of swing to it at the same time. It’s like a country swing. That happens on a lot of the tracks where you can really feel it. On “Ballad of the Young Troubadour,” on the conga and upright bass you can feel it really strongly, as well. It’s a garage band aesthetic, for sure. 

It’s a very Indigenous thing! If you go back and watch movies like Rumble: The Indians Who Rocked the World it’s interesting because the history of American roots music — in my personal opinion, I’ve read books on this and stuff, I know others think differently — without Indigenous people and without Black people we wouldn’t have roots music at all. 

Yep. Full stop. It’s that simple. 

[Laughs] Yes! Full stop. Exactly. It’s interesting to see so many new Americana artists that are Indigenous and Black, I’m really so honored to be even considered in that group of people!

I wanted to ask you about “Human Race,” because I think that song pretty clearly lays out a framework for creating empathy and understanding and I wanted to ask you where that comes from, within you, specifically. Empathy is such an individual thing, I’m always interested in how people take it from being intensely individual and personal and turn it into something universal and relatable. What is that process like for you? Especially in writing “Human Race?” 

That empathy comes across and feels universal because I know someone who is deeply close to me that has suffered from mental disabilities and mental illness and it has affected me and my family. You learn from a very young age, even before you know exactly what it is, that you have to be quiet and patient. You have to be strong, yet at the same time very gentle. You have to allow these loved ones’ triumphs and their dreams to be bigger than anything that you can possibly imagine, just so that they have an opportunity to express themselves in a way that makes them feel important. In writing the song, my message to this particular person was that I believe in them, their strength, and their pain — and to acknowledge that I go through all of those feelings too, just like they do. That’s how that song became so universal, by allowing myself to let go and also praise someone that I absolutely adore. 

What have listeners’ or fans’ reactions to “Human Race” been like? 

When I first posted it I think people really were shocked and gravitated to it in such a way that I didn’t realize would happen. This is the song that led me to believe I had to put this record out earlier than I was intending to. It was around the time the pandemic lockdown here in Canada started, so it touched a lot of souls. I was very pleased that it did. I think the aspects of the song about inner peace and overcoming challenges resonate with people. 

It feels like “It’s Not Enough” is a song about grace, about how we all are enough, but through the opposite lens. So I wanted to ask you about the idea of applying grace to ourselves, especially right now when that feels so much more difficult. 

Applying grace to ourselves is such a difficult thing to do, but such a necessary thing to do. People who think and think a lot, other people don’t realize just how much work that is and how tiring it is to try to figure out what’s on your mind, just as simple as that. I’m a person who feels compassion for other people and myself, but I’m also extremely difficult on myself and hard on myself — as most people would say, we are our own worst critics in a lot of ways. I’m trying to be a little less critical with myself and, in turn, with others. I’m trying to accept what is. I think this song, “It’s Not Enough,” in a way is insinuating that for humans to not to believe that is kind of an insidious frame of mind. 

Can you tell me about the final track, “Ola Let’s Dance?” There’s a meditative quality to the refrain that resonates with me, the way it’s almost like a mantra, really intentional in the way you’re delivering it. Where does that song come from? 

Well, I was thinking about beats in my attic where I do a lot of my demos. The beat came first, I just held onto it forever and ever and ever and ever and ever, just sitting. When my grandmother had passed away, and my grandfather had passed years before, we had to go out and collect all of her stuff. I was the one that inherited most of it. It’s sitting in my attic as we speak. Just rummaging through memories and stuff I found poetry that was written by my grandfather. The poem I recite in “Ola Let’s Dance” was not written by me; it was written by my grandfather, John Thomas Skanks. I just loved it so much, I had to try to write it into a song. I came up with the guitar part — it was very tribal, I wanted the whole thing to feel very tribal. It’s probably the furthest thing from a country or folk song on the record, yet it comes out like that anyway. [Laughs] It’s really bizarre! 

The amalgamation of my maternal grandparents is what that song exemplifies, to me. I was trying to sing it, trying to put a melody to it, ‘til one day I just said, “Why don’t I just recite it and see what happens?” [Laughs] I did it and everyone was like, “YUP! That’s how it’s going to go.” My maternal grandmother’s name was Ola. She taught dance at the University of Buffalo for a little while. She raised four girls on her own, doing what she could to survive, and ended up teaching dance. So the song, in my heart, is both the meeting and separation of my grandparents, which brought me to life. 


Photo credit: Lisa MacIntosh

Shout & Shine is proudly supported by Preston Thompson Guitars.

LISTEN: The Caleb Daugherty Band, “Daylight’s Burning”

Artist: The Caleb Daugherty Band
Hometown: Connersville, Indiana
Song: “Daylight’s Burning”
Release Date: October 30, 2020
Label: KDM Records

In Their Words: “Back in February 2020, Zion Napier and I were sitting around the fire listening to music way into the early hours of the morning. We were listening to old country and bluegrass trying to find some old gems that we could cut on our new project and I decided to play an album from The Boys from Indiana. That album led to us talking about the late Aubrey Holt (of TBFI) and eventually his son Tony Holt. It was not long into our conversation when ‘Daylight’s Burning’ came on and we both looked at each other and knew instantly that we wanted to record the song. We listened to it again and then at least another half dozen times! The song caused a flood of childhood memories for both of us and we really feel like it will do that to other folks, too. Our goal with recording ‘Daylight’s Burning’ is for everyone to experience the same nostalgia and happiness that we did and also enjoy the simplistic, but genius writing of Aubrey Holt.” — Caleb Daugherty


Photo credit: Kate Lunsford

LISTEN: My Darling Clementine, “I Lost You”

Artist: My Darling Clementine (with Steve Nieve)
Hometown: Manchester / Birmingham, UK
Song: “I Lost You”
Album: Country Darkness
Release Date: November 6, 2020
Label: Fretsore Records

In Their Words: “‘I Lost You’ comes from [Elvis] Costello’s 2010 album, National Ransom, and is co-written with Jim Lauderdale, who was also part of the touring ensemble Elvis put together at that time. Lou and I shared a festival bill with Jim at the River Town Festival in Bristol in 2017 and joined him on stage for a few songs. Our paths have crossed a few times since. Most recently I met him at a songwriter festival in Lafayette, Louisiana. Jim is one of the sweetest and funniest guys, a master of the high harmony, and has the closest living voice to that of the great George Jones. He is also a very fine country songwriter.

“The original version of ‘I Lost You’ opens with a guitar riff which then reoccurs later throughout the song. We replaced that with Steve [Nieve]’s arpeggiated piano motif. Although written originally for one voice, the song works particularly well as a conversational duet. The male character is regretting taking the woman for granted who, due to his negligence, ‘goes to strangers.’ He is feeling bereft and foolish having lost her. Of all the 12 songs we have reinterpreted as a duet for this Country Darkness album this was possibly the most straightforward to adapt for two voices. It also served as a timely reminder to both Lou and I, especially me, not to take each other for granted!” — Michael Weston King, My Darling Clementine


Photo credit: Marco Bakker

Ricky Skaggs Reunites With Bill Monroe’s Mandolin for ‘BIG NIGHT’ Event

On Wednesday, October 28, music fans had the chance to see and hear some of the most historic instruments in bluegrass played once again during an all-star fundraiser, BIG NIGHT (At the Museum). The Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum presented performances captured in the museum’s galleries and performance venues while the museum was closed, with select artists paired with instruments from the institution’s collection. The event debuted on the museum’s YouTube channel.

One such performance includes Alison Brown playing Earl Scruggs’s 1930 Gibson RB-Granada banjo, Ricky Skaggs playing Bill Monroe’s 1923 Gibson F-5 mandolin, and Marty Stuart playing Lester Flatt’s 1950 Martin D-28 guitar. Skaggs was elected to the Country Music Hall of Fame in 2018.

“I think it’s important to do anything we can to support the museum not as just members of the Hall of Fame, but as lovers of country music history,” Skaggs tells BGS. “I think it’s kind of our job to do that and it’s a privilege to know that my grandkids will be able to go there to see that history that we celebrated — and some of it I even got to be a part of. I’m thankful to be a part of it. It’s a wonderful thing.”

BIG NIGHT (At the Museum) generated support for the museum’s exhibitions, collections preservation, and educational programming. A closure of nearly six months due to COVID-19 caused significant loss of revenue for the museum, which was forced to cancel in-person educational events. During the BIG NIGHT program, viewers were encouraged to donate to the museum.

BGS spoke with Hall of Fame member Ricky Skaggs and museum CEO Kyle Young about the event.

BGS: Kyle, how have things been at the museum since the shutdown?

Young: We’re hanging in. We were closed for about six months. We opened back up September 10 under very limited capacity. As I look at the year, I think we will end up looking at lost revenue approaching thirty five million dollars, so it’s a matter of trying to navigate through and I’m hoping that we can stay open, even though it’s very limited.

Ricky, it’d be hard to imagine such an event without you there considering that you have such a deep connection to this music. What does it mean for you to get to play Mr. Monroe’s mandolin?

Skaggs: I can’t believe I’m getting to play it one more time. Every time I play it I’m sure it’s the last time, but then they’ll drag it out again and I’m always like, “Oh, God, thank you.” The first time I played it, I was 6 years old. So I didn’t really know that much about how priceless it was even then. And he wouldn’t just take it off and give it to you to play. He wasn’t that way, you know? Sometimes we’d shared a dressing room together. And he’d have the lid open in the case, but it would be pushed down in the case. I would always ask his permission if I could play it and he’d let me.

But, I didn’t play it that much when he was alive. I’ve played it so much more since he passed. There was a time before it went into the museum that the Opry House had it in a vault. There was a guy there that would let me play it, and two or three times a year, I’d go out and make sure that the bridge was OK and maybe I’d put new strings on it and stuff like that. But I played it quite a bit back then. When it went into the museum, I thought, “This is it.” You walk by and see it in the case and think, “Well, that ain’t ever coming out.” But I’ve been able to play it a few times and I’m always thankful.

It’s an amazing sounding instrument. And I made sure to mention, when I was inducted into the Hall of Fame, that Mr. Monroe did not create this music by himself. That instrument was his partner. That was his number one instrument from the time that he got it. He and that instrument created the sound of bluegrass. I mean, he was so creative after he got that instrument. If you think about the instrumentals that he wrote before when he had that F-9 with that short scale you can tell he was very limited. But when he got that 14 fret neck — goodness gracious! It gave him the room and the tone and the whole Loar experience to work with. It was meant to be. It was a heavenly meeting of two instruments: Monroe being one instrument and the mandolin being the other.

Listen to Ricky Skaggs on Toy Heart with Tom Power: APPLE MUSIC • STITCHER • SPOTIFY • MP3

That’s a beautiful sentiment and a good point about how inspiring that instrument was for him. That connection between instrument and musician existed with all of these instruments, so it’s going to be special to watch all of these performances. Were you all excited to get to perform a bit?

Skaggs: We were. None of us three — me, Marty or Alison — have had COVID, and we’ve certainly been pent up and cooped up. I recently did a video for Camping World with Steven Curtis Chapman, and after one of the faster instrumentals we played, I remember thinking, “Man, I have got COVID fingers,” you know? Kentucky Thunder hasn’t played a show since March 11 and that’s just crazy. So, it was a lot of fun to play with Marty and Alison. I think it’s going to be a really, really great show, and I hope it raises a lot of money for the Hall of Fame, because even though they’ve had to shut down, the building must be paid for every month like nothing happened. But, something has happened and that’s another example of how hard this virus has been on America in general, and which has been really, really unfortunate.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y1j5JYpSfTc

I know that those instruments almost never leave their display cases so what were the circumstances that allowed the instruments to get played for this event?

Young: We knew that there were a lot of things we couldn’t do while we were closed, but we tried to focus on what we might be able to do under these circumstances and what opportunities there might be. I don’t know if you remember this or not, but very early on in the shutdown, the Shedd Aquarium let a couple of penguins out and let them walk around the aquarium and posted videos of them looking at the other exhibits. That got us to thinking about what we could do. We are a very active museum with lots of programming, but we realized with an empty museum, we can carefully take these instruments out of their cases.

So, the penguins were the germ of it, to tell you the truth. We wanted to do something that looked like us and felt like us. The backbone of the museum, as you know, is the collection — and the collection is unbelievable. The curatorial staff enjoyed carefully choosing which instrument they wanted to take out and allow to be played. From that point, we decided which artists made sense.

That’s so special because I know it’s such a rare thing. The only time I can remember something like it was when Ricky played Bill Monroe’s mandolin at the Medallion Ceremony back in 2018.

Young: That was very, very unusual. And after a lot of discussion, we thought that’d be a great thing to do with Ricky that afternoon. And likewise, this is something we never do. It is only because we were closed and able to really control the circumstances by which we were moving these instruments and carefully handling them and letting the artists play them. They’re behind glass for a reason. That’s the best way to protect them. And they are in an environment that is intensely controlled from temperature to humidity to light exposure and so on. But we did feel like under these circumstances, and only these circumstances, could we see our way clear to take them out for a little while and let them be played.


Photos courtesy of the Country Music Hall of Fame & Museum


This article was updated on November 12, 2020

During Her Longest Break in 25 Years, Wynonna Offers Her ‘Recollections’

Although she’s been an entertainer for decades, Wynonna says she hasn’t ever been much for making music around the house – at least not until this year.

“I think it’s because I was so famous at 18 that the time home was spent just being quiet, because my world was so noisy,” she tells BGS. “Somebody who came to stay with us for a couple of days made a comment, ‘How come I never hear you hum or sing around the house?’ And I looked at her and I was like, ‘I don’t know!’ I had never thought of it.”

If nothing else, life in quarantine has given this country legend time to think. After all, she’s been touring since the ‘80s, first with the Judds, then as a solo artist, and eventually some of both. 2020 is the first extended break she’s taken since late ’94 and early ’95, for the birth of her son, Elijah, who is now a first responder. (She’s making a lunch for him as we’re speaking.) Off the road now for six months, she says her routine has gone from staring off into space every night, to doing Facebook Live sessions with her husband Cactus Moser, to calling up old friends and dusting off her vinyl records.

And to show for her efforts, she’s releasing an EP of covers titled Recollections. The five-song set offers her intimate, off-the-cuff renditions of classics like Grateful Dead’s “Ramblin’ Rose,” Nina Simone’s “Feelin’ Good” and John Prine’s “Angel From Montgomery,” with some of the project’s audio tracks taken directly from her Facebook live sets. She called BGS from her farm in Franklin, Tennessee, to talk about all of it, and offered a film recommendation, too.

BGS: While listening to this EP, I was pleased to hear that you and I have the same favorite verse of “Angel From Montgomery.” What was on your mind when you recorded that one?

Wynonna: Well, it’s tough and it’s a part of life… I was in the living room and I was just practicing. I haven’t done this much practicing in a long time, but I’m home and what else is there to do?! [Laughs] And I got a text from my agent who was a personal friend of John Prine and his family, and he said that John had passed. I sat there, and it’s one of those weird moments in your life when you get that call. I was overwhelmed, sitting there, and all of a sudden — I’m not kidding — I just started to play it on my guitar. I thought, “Oh my God! Oh my God!” I’ve known this song since I was 15 years old, and I started playing it like I played it all those years ago.

I kid you not, Cactus comes in and I looked at him, he looked at me, and I started singing it – he got tears in his eyes, because it was a moment. It’s like that moment when you stand there doing your vows, it’s just a heavy moment. And I said, “I think we need to do this tonight.” So we did it on Facebook Live, which is what you’re hearing. We’re sitting there together and it’s me paying tribute to my hero. One of my heroes is John Prine and we must not forget what this man gave to us. It was one of those sweet, beautiful moments of reflection on my part of how far I’ve come as an artist.

I know you play acoustic guitar on that, too. Which guitar did you play?

I played the biggest Gibson you can get. I’ve always played a big guitar, for obvious reasons. I’ve always felt like the one I have is my weapon. It’s like the biggest guitar you can buy. I was 18 years old and I needed — like when soldiers go into battle and like in Game of Thrones they’d always hold up the shield — it’s my shield. It’s my weapon. So, yeah, I just played it that night and he recorded it and kept it. I said, “Honey, I think this is important.” Because it’s a snapshot of my experience that day.

I love to hear you sing “Feelin’ Good.” I’d read you sang this at a women’s prison, too. Tell me about that experience.

Pretty deep. It was pretty deep. I had played down the hair. I thought, “Now is not the time. I’m not on stage.” I found myself being in that moment with the women. I was standing there, telling my story, talking to the women. It was one of those moments where I don’t know what to say. … So, I just started to sing. I think it made a difference in the room, because these women could sit there for a moment and feel better. That’s what I do as my go-to — I start singing.

I don’t know what you do, but we all have a coping skill, and I think for me that day it was music. I think it’s an important as an artist to not forget your gift. Sometimes we can, if we get distracted. So, this time at home has been devastating at times, yet so life-giving, that the music reflects just that. You’ll hear tough and tender in my voice because there are days when I can’t even get out of bed without crying. And then there are some days I hop out of bed and I am freakin’ Wonder Woman.

Now that you’ve been home probably longer than you ever have in your life, have you developed any morning routines to propel you through your day?

So, on March 14, I cleared the bus. I’ve had a bus since 1984, so that was bizarre. It was like moving to another country. I came into the house and I went, “What the hell do I do now?” So I spent five weeks – you can tell I counted – of doing absolutely nothing. I got really frustrated, because I was lost! It was 8 o’clock at night and I would stare off into the night and go, “I should be doing a show. I should be with my fans. I should be with people. I should be on the road.”

Wynonna and Cactus Moser

I found myself doing nothing. And I think that’s what I needed. I’m going to do a testimonial. I’m writing a book in my head right now, and I’m going to put it to paper, like you as a writer: “What do I do today? What did I do today? What did I want to do today? What do I have to do today?” And how do you find life in that? So I went through the same stuff you have, like most of my fan family: “What do I do?” …

And I started to practice. My husband goes, “Yeah, honey, um… I don’t know if you’ve done this in a while.” It took a minute though. I had to self-start, which was hard for me, because I’ve always been given my schedule, and I go to the airport, and I hustle through, and I make it. You know what I’m saying? We’re used to doing and going and being really successful! What do you do when you’re home for six months?! What do you do, man!!

So when you say “practice,” were you practicing songwriting? Guitar?

Yes, all of it! I came home and, like the rest of America, I gained weight and let my roots grow out. I’m not wearing any undergarments. … And when you come home, and you’re on the farm – I haven’t left but maybe half a dozen times in six months — it’s very strange. What do you do? You have to find a new purpose. And my new purpose was writing, and I started calling people on the phone. Ooh!

You know how it is, you start reconnecting with people you want to reconnect with. There was a lot of forgiveness. There were a lot of relationships where I needed to go back and say, “Hey, man, I missed your wedding and I’m really, really sad about that.” Then you start a conversation. This is really important stuff, right? You don’t have time for that – you don’t make time for that – because you’re too busy being fabulous.

Have you been pulling out your vinyl records, too? And listening to music you’ve loved in the past?

Yep! I’m doing it in a way I needed to, and I don’t know that I would have if it hadn’t been for me being at home like I am. I’ll be honest. I was taught to be a doer, a mover and a shaker. I got caught up in that, and when I came home, I felt like, “If I put everything away, that means I’m stuck at home.” It took months and months and months, and finally I was like, “Oh, for God’s sake, I’m tired of looking at all my stage clothes and my undergarments! Put ‘em away!” And I was like, “No, I don’t want to because that means you’re dead!”

Anyway, I did it, and I thought, “You have to find life at home, woman!” You know, you’ve got life on the road. What is it like at home? So I started to do that, and I started to… listen to music! I started to watch documentaries. You have to watch the two-part documentary on Laurel Canyon. You have to watch it, dude, you have to. You know why? Because it’s important! You see the Eagles, when they’re teenagers, and they’re in L.A. trying to write songs. You see Jackson Browne, who’s 19, standing in line at the Whisky a Go Go. It’s awesome!

BGS did a story on that movie and interviewed Chris Hillman about it, too. It’s a fascinating history.

Oh, that’s another thing! I wanted to throw this in here: So I started to have a beautiful relationship with people I never see, and Chris is one of them. Because I got the number from my husband, I’m texting Robert Weir — and he’s texting me back! And I’m going, “OK… what are the chances?!” [Laughs]

Bob Weir’s on this new record, too.

He is, and it started out being a little bit of a dare. Cactus said, “I want you to learn a Grateful Dead song,” and I said, “Why?” Seriously, I said “Why?” Now, how arrogant is that?! I didn’t understand, not really. All of a sudden I’m learning the song and I’m going, “What the heck is this line about writing Frankenstein?” Then I started learning the song’s history and the meaning of it, so now I’ve become a student of rock ‘n’ roll. I started to study and learn the song and understand. “Ramble on Rose” – oh, there’s a story here. It’s not just a song that’s in the background as you’re smoking a joint!

I believe that when something is a God thing, and meant to be, it’s easy. There’s an ease to it. It doesn’t require an agenda or manipulation. And the next thing I know — and this is no exaggeration — the guy, the legend, the man is coming to Nashville to do something with Dwight Yoakam. And he’s at our gate! We’re buzzing him in to come down to the home studio, which is basically a shed with a lot of nice flooring. And we do a song together! And I go, well, nobody would believe me: “Hey, Robert Weir’s over here and we’re singing ‘Ramble on Rose.’ Yeah, cool!” [Laughs] It’s just fun and I want to get away with as much of this as I possibly can.


Photo credit: Eric Ryan Anderson

LISTEN: Andrew Grimm, “A Little Heat”

Artist: Andrew Grimm
Hometown: Baltimore, Maryland
Song: “A Little Heat”
Album: A Little Heat
Release Date: October 30, 2020
Label: WhistlePig Records

In Their Words: “This song is a departure from the rest. I cannot offer up dark and depressing ideas without suggesting some type of a salve or solution. That’s the deal here: when we start seeing each other as humans, when we smash our phones, when we begin to trust each other, when we thaw the frost between us, we will come out the other side of crisis, together. ‘All we need is a little heat.'” — Andrew Grimm


Photo credit: Chad Cochran

BGS 5+5: Lera Lynn

Artist: Lera Lynn
Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee
Latest album: On My Own

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

I think everything we consume ends up informing our art. It’s difficult for me to pinpoint any one art form that influences me, but I did use the act of painting with intention while making my new record, On My Own. Because I was working completely alone on the record, I desperately needed some method for gaining perspective, so I kept my easel set up in the room where I was recording and would bounce back and forth between the two mediums. Where I would reach a roadblock with one, I would move to the other.

What was the first moment that you knew you wanted to be a musician?

Music was always a big part of life for me growing up. If there wasn’t a record or the radio blasting, someone was playing guitar or keyboards and singing. I, however, had always planned on becoming an astronaut until one fateful day as a 10-year-old, when I learned that my eyesight was too poor for me to ever be accepted into the space program. I happened to be watching Star Search minutes after that disappointing realization and distinctly remember thinking, “Oh well, I’ll just do that.” It wasn’t until a couple of years later, playing violin in the school orchestra that I understood, for the first time, the hypnotic power of playing music with and for others and I was hooked.

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

I once spent 10 months working on a song, because someone I shared the song with suggested that the chorus wasn’t strong enough. I must’ve written six or eight different choruses and ultimately decided that the original chorus was the one. The song is called “Fade Into the Black.”

What rituals do you have, either in the studio or before a show?

My rituals are pretty different for live shows vs. studio work. I have to be pretty straight before getting on stage. I sing the old jazz standard “Lover Man” for its vocal range as a warmup and just before going on stage I get pumped up by yelling like I’m at a drag race. In the studio, a good buzz goes a long way for getting inside the song and tracking vocals.

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

Let art guide the process and decisions, not the prospect of money or success. Maintain autonomy by nurturing meaningful engagement with fans; let them be the guide and support system. And finally, trust your gut!!


Photo credit: Alysse Gafkjen

LISTEN: Rachel Brooke, “Undecided Love”

Artist: Rachel Brooke
Hometown: Lovells, Michigan
Song: “Undecided Love”
Album: The Loneliness in Me
Release Date: October 23, 2020
Label: Mal Records

In Their Words: “It’s like a good classic heartbreak song. Waiting for someone to choose you and return the love you have for them… but maybe they won’t. It’s leaving your fate up to someone else, knowing that there’s a good chance you’ll fall. I love all the sounds and instruments on this one, and I feel lucky to have Dave Feeny play pedal steel. He makes it sound exactly like I’ve always imagined it. I also love the ‘back and forth’ with guitar (Louis Osborn) and pedal steel. I wanted to create a somewhat call and response feel, similar to a conversation between two people, echoing the lyrics in a way. This is actually one of the older songs of the bunch. I think the idea came for this song a few years ago, and it was just a fragment of an idea/song, but we knew something was special about it, and kept working on it. This is my mom’s favorite song on the album, so you know it’s good. ;)” — Rachel Brooke


Photo credit: Jess Varda