Lucinda Williams: A Folk Singer’s Heart and A Rock Star’s Swagger

With a folk singer’s heart and a rock star’s swagger, Lucinda Williams gets it right on World’s Gone Wrong. Produced by Ray Kennedy and Tom Overby and released January 23, 2026, the topical album shows no love for the current president; instead, Williams turns to the musicians in her band, R&B legend Mavis Staples, and even a Bob Marley classic to put her own beliefs front and center.

As protesters take to the streets across America, Williams is reaching people where they live by maintaining an impressive tour schedule, just as she’s done for the last four or five decades.

BGS caught up with Williams for an Artist of the Month interview by phone, in motion and outspoken.

First off, I just want to say I love the electric guitar on this record.

Lucinda Williams: Yeah, I’ve got two of the best in my band, Doug Pettibone and Marc Ford. Marc was in the Black Crowes before and Doug’s been with me for a while. The two of them just play off of each other. They’re really great when you see the band live.

Thanks for saying that. I’ll pass that on! I’ve always managed to find really good guitar players to work with me. It’s important to me, having a good guitar sound in the band, both live and on the record.

This record’s got that live energy, which is hard to capture on an album. What were the sessions like putting this album together?

Wow! You’ve said all the right stuff that I want to hear! I love you! [Laughs] But like you said, it’s hard to get the recording to reflect that. That’s why I’m so excited that came across, but I always record live for the most part. … We’re all situated in that part of the studio where we’re recording, but the vocals are isolated, just for the sake of convenience, so we don’t have to worry about the [tracking band] bleeding in, in case there’s a mistake. But it has that live feel, because we’re not putting down certain things and then coming in later. The drummer is not coming in separately and putting the drum track down, that kind of thing. We’re putting down the basic track all at the same time, together.

I would be playing guitar normally, but since I had my stroke about five years ago, I’m struggling with it. That hasn’t come back all the way yet, unfortunately. Which makes it even more challenging, because normally I would set up the vibe and the feel on acoustic rhythm guitar, and then the guys would follow me and fall in behind me. So, now one of the other guitar players has to fill in for me. And even though they’re both great guitar players, nobody’s going to do a rhythm thing exactly like I do. That’s a little bit of a challenge right now, but we managed to pull it off somehow.

You’ve had so many musicians that have worked with you over the years. When it’s time to hire somebody in the studio or in your band, what qualities are you looking for?

Probably just being aware of different styles of music. I can’t read or write music, so for me to have to discuss something to another musician, I usually use a reference of another artist. And I might say, “I want to play this song kind of like Clifton Chenier,” like a zydeco thing. And if they don’t know who that is, it’s hard for me to describe it musically. So, the easiest and best way is just [bringing up] the sound of another style of music and using an artist to describe that.

What was on your mind as you were writing the song, “The World’s Gone Wrong”?

Well, what do you think? What’s going on right now, every single damn day. There’s some other crazy piece of news surrounding the so-called King of the United States. Or he wants to be king. He wants to name the Kennedy Center after himself. That stuff builds up in your mind, and after a while it’s therapeutic to sit down and write a song about it. Just get it out of your system. … I just remember, every single day there’d be something on the news, in the newspaper, on TV or somewhere online. You couldn’t get away from it. It was pervasive. It was just on my mind a lot, of course, and still is.

This might be venturing out a little bit, but it seemed like a love song too, because these two people in the song are leaning on each other.

Yeah, I’m glad you brought that up. I’m glad you saw that in there. I think it’s an interesting way of dealing with the political unrest, by painting a picture of a regular, everyday couple and what they’re going through. So you can express it that way.

I’ll shift it over to “Low Life,” because I feel like I’m sitting at that bar with you when I listen to that song. And I also like those bars where you can be anonymous and no one really knows you. When you’re out on tour, do you look for places like that?

Yeah, the guys and me will look for a cool little place to maybe go hang out after the show. It’s hard to find one, though, where they won’t know who we are, because then they’ll want to come up and talk and stuff. A lot of times the guys will go somewhere and I’ll be like, “I want to go! Take me! Take me!” And they’ll go, “Lu, you’re not going to want to go, because it’s going to be swamped with fans and everybody’s going to want to talk to you,” and all that. Then I get all disappointed because I can’t go. [Laughs] So I’d just stay on the bus.

We end up hanging out on the bus more often than not. That becomes our little bar. I like to fraternize with the band guys after we do a show. I like to bond with them a little bit on the tour bus.

I noticed you’re going on the road with the band Heart in March. When that offer came through, what made you think, “Yeah, I’ll do that.”

Well, turns out they were fans of my music, which I wasn’t aware of, and I guess their people reached out to my people… or my person [laughs] and wanted to take me out with them. Ann and Nancy Wilson are just two of the nicest people ever, real down to earth. We went out and already did some shows with them not too long ago. It seemed like with their fans and my fans, there was kind of an overlap there. It seemed to work musically as a bill.

I don’t think enough has been said about Nancy’s playing. I caught a documentary a while back on the music scene in Seattle back in the day, and with Heart a lot of people don’t realize they were there then, right when Nirvana was around. They were a little bit different, but I hadn’t realized how proficient Nancy was on the electric guitar and I was just sitting there watching it like, “Oh my God!” And Ann’s voice – they’ve got what it takes, that’s for sure.

You’re back out on the road, you’ve got this new album, and I’m sure there are a lot of other things in the works. What are you enjoying most about this stage of your career?

Being able to go out and do shows with artists like Heart. I got to go out and do shows with a tour featuring Bob Dylan and Van Morrison. I got to go out and do shows with the Allman Brothers. I’ve met so many fantastic, legendary artists over the years who like my music. And some might be a surprise. I was surprised, actually.

Like, Joey Ramone was a fan. David Byrne is a fan. Robert Plant is a big fan and I’ve done quite a few shows with him. So that’s been a big boost. Those probably have been the highlights of my career, being able to connect with those kinds of artists. The people I listened to when I was starting out and looked up to.

It was interesting to hear you include “So Much Trouble in the World” on this record. What did you like most about Bob Marley’s original version of that song?

First of all, I feel like that song was ahead of his time and it still rings true today. It’s still so fresh and could have been written yesterday. It’s still relevant. People still love the song. It’s got a great melody. Nobody can do it like Bob Marley did, though. I was a little self-conscious about that when we cut that song, because I was thinking, “What are people going to think? Me covering a Bob Marley song?” Like, “What does she think she’s doing?” But it’s a great song to play live. And like I said, it’s so much about what’s going on right now.

Having Mavis Staples on that recording is such a treat. What did she bring to the track?

She just added a whole extra level of soul, and thought, and everything. And we didn’t tell her what to sing or how to do anything. We didn’t give her parts to do or anything like that. We just showed her where the vocal booth was. You know, “Here’s the microphone,” turn it on, and she just let it rip. We’re so grateful to have her on there. And every single person I’ve done an interview with has mentioned her. Like, “What’s this about Mavis Staples on the record? How did you get her in the studio?” and all this. Everybody’s so excited to hear her on there.

I also wanted to ask you about “Too Far to Turn Around.” It feels like something we could sing at a protest march, but it’s kind of like a meditation, too.

Yeah. Thank you so much. I love hearing you say that, because that’s what I had in mind when I was writing it. Exactly that. I was thinking about songs like “We Shall Overcome” and everybody singing it together and holding hands. Because I experienced that myself back in the ‘60s. When I was a teenager, I used to go to all these marches and demonstrations. And music was the thing that kind of brought people together back then.

Those kinds of songs like “We Shall Overcome” were being sung and Bob Dylan was writing all those amazing protest songs like “Masters of War,” which I used to sing. I’d get my guitar, go to these things, and sometimes they’d ask me to sing. I’d do those kinds of songs, like Joan Baez and all. I mean, there was just a gamut of great folk singers. That’s what they used to call us! I kind of wish that would come back. Just call it folk music. The people’s music.


Continue exploring our Artist of the Month coverage of Lucinda Williams here.

Photo Credit: Mark Seliger

Vince Gill Has Done It All (Part 2)

Poaching from Elvis, well over 50,000,000 Vince Gill fans can’t be wrong.

The longevity Gill discussed in Part 1 of this interview has taken him from bluegrass beginnings to a genre-inclusive 50 years as one of country’s most beloved and sought-after artists.

It’s not always been easy, however. No one, regardless of talent or fan loyalty, is immune from freedom of the keyboard and Gill is no stranger to the highs and lows of public opinion. Mostly it’s outpourings of gratitude from the millions whose lives his music touches. Sometimes it’s claptrap about his now decade-long tenure in the Eagles, or venomous spewing over songs like “March On, March On,” from Secondhand Smoke, the second in his series of retrospective EPs being released monthly.

In Part 2 of his conversation with Good Country, Gill discusses, among other things, the aforementioned decade-long tenure with the Eagles, bullying – with a few choice words for those who inflict it – his scrolling habits, and he indulges us in a rapid-fire round of closing questions.

In the arc of this 50-year project, it is not unnoticed that Hotel California turns 50 this year. Do you have memories of listening to that album as a young man, as you now find yourself onstage playing those songs?

Vince Gill: I had all the Eagles records. We did a lot of their songs in my bluegrass days, and it’s completely surreal. I’m starting my tenth year of being in that band and continuing that legacy of songs. What I value most about getting to play with these guys, what I’ve learned most, is how important songs are – all the notes, all the licks, all the riffs, all that stuff. Getting to relearn that at this stage of life has been pretty profound in the way that I’m trying to write songs. I’m patient in the way I write. I’m patient to wait for it to come – the right words, to not settle on anything, and really edit and work and edit and work and continue to try to be mindful of how important the song is.

What I’m mindful of with the Eagles is the tragedy. More important than the fact that I get to do it is that if Glenn had not passed away, I would not have gotten to do this and I’m grateful I’m the one they called. I met all those guys in, I think, 1980, when I was living [in California]. In a million years, would I have ever thought this would have happened? No. But I am careful of how I couch everything, because it came from something tragic and I am respectful of that.

Glenn was a really good friend of mine, actually, and his son Deacon is doing a great job up there of carrying on his dad’s tradition. I think I’m a great fit for them in the way I play guitar and sing, and sing harmony, and play all the instruments I do. I’m not saying I’m better than anybody else they could have gotten. I’m just saying what I do suits them really well.

Jedd Hughes described you as “one of the greatest band leaders I’ve ever worked with. He’s listening to everything and everyone, always, so you can read his cues pretty easily.” First part of the question: Where did you learn to lead?

Because I’m a musician, I think I come at it different and I operate under the mindset that every note is equal. You’re not more important because you’re the lead singer. You’re not more important because you play the lead solo in the song. I value every note the same. Spending my life in the studio like I have, knowing what you play and do has to sit well and play well with others, you have to listen to everybody else.

It’s amazing what you can accomplish if you don’t care who gets the credit. Sometimes people play only to be noticed and that doesn’t necessarily constitute the right thing for the song. They say in Nashville all the time, “Just serve the song.” That’s all I’ve ever tried to do. If someone’s playing something and doing something, don’t do something to distract it. Do something to enhance it, to support it.

Second part: How does that translate to arrangements and contributions from the musicians you work with?

Great players all listen to each other and you’re dealing with a caliber of musicians that already know what not to do, so you don’t have to waste time going, “Hey, don’t play that, that’s too much, that’s not necessary.” Every time I’m in there playing, I take every note, examine it, and make it move me, make it sit just right.

Once again, if you’re playing with that caliber of people, which I fortunately am – my band is usually made up of a lot of studio musicians and amazing players – they like playing with me because I’m a player, too. I’m not just someone up there singing the songs. So I think I have their respect, and that points you once again towards, “What’s the best thing for the song? What’s the best arrangement idea? What’s the best part to play? What’s the best part not to play?” That’s it in a nutshell.

I’m surrounded by musicians that can all play me under the table, straight up. That’s the truth. I’m grateful to have them, grateful to get to play with them, and it makes for a very democratic spirit. Even in the way we record, I’m not heavy-handed. I’m not telling people what to play. Oftentimes we’ll be in there and they’ll say, “Do you like this?” I go, “I don’t have any idea. I’ve never even heard this song before. I know I wrote it, but we’re in here trying to figure it out, so we’re just going to figure it out all together.”

It creates a great spirit in there if everybody feels like they’re all walking on equal ground, everybody has a right to an opinion, everybody has a right to try something, nobody gets shut down, nobody gets put off. It’s an amazing experience. I don’t ever do demos with my songs. I just write them and then I show them to the guys on the floor. I go, “This is how it goes. Let’s figure it out.” They naturally gravitate towards something great and you just follow them off the cliff! It’s wonderful to watch other people’s gifts.

Earlier you described yourself as “the happiest son of a bitch in the world” who just loves sad songs. In that happiness, however, you have experienced much grief. Your faith is strong. Have you ever lost or questioned it during times of loss?

When I think about faith, I don’t think of it so much [from] the religious point of view. I think faith in humanity – more than Baptist or Methodist, or heaven or hell, or any of that stuff. None of these questions have ever been answered, so to pretend you know the answers seems a little, I don’t know, pretentious almost. That might not be a good word. But, no. It all comes from loving deep. The people I love, I love them deeply. They matter to me.

Music is where I go to grieve. It’s where I go to get through loss. It’s where all those things are. I tell everybody it’s cheaper than therapy. I just write about it.

I never feel the need to fix everything in my life. My relationship with my dad, if it was funky or whatever, I said, “It’s not my place to change him. It’s my job to accept him.” Once I could do that, we had a great relationship. You don’t have to be like me for me to like you. You don’t have to think like I do for me to like you.

I’ve been told more often than not, “Why I like your songs is you are able to say what I wish I could say. You are able to express feelings I have that I don’t know how to.” Maya Angelou sought me out and asked me to come and meet her when she was in Nashville years ago. She told me, “‘Go Rest High’ was a lifesaver to me. It helped me get through the loss of my brother.” Those kinds of things make you go, “I’m going to try to find a way to be emotional about things and not only help myself, but help other people too.” I think if you can portray in a story what someone’s going through, you have a chance to make people feel better.

You can’t name-drop Maya Angelou and just go on to the next question! We need to back up a little bit.

She was speaking at Vanderbilt and wanted to meet. [My wife] Amy [Grant] and I went and afterward we got to go back and say hi. She said, “You mean a lot to me, because your song helped me get through one of the hardest times of my life.” It was a great visit.

You’ve released the fourth EP in your series. Which chapter is this and do you know what’s to follow?

It’s uptempo-y and groove-y, kind of like “Liza Jane” and “One More Last Chance” and some of those fun songs. Each record is, on purpose, similar-driven. The record after this fourth one will be a lot of real country-country stuff, real traditional stuff. The one after that is going to be more like “I Still Believe In You” and “Don’t Let Our Love Start Slippin’ Away,” from a more rocking side. I don’t want to say the word “pop,” but it is. It feels like an Eagles record or a Fleetwood Mac record at times. The inspirations are all in there.

The one after that is real bluesy R&B-ish. Are you hip to Lamont Landers? He’s a soul singer from Alabama. You look at him and go, “There’s no way this voice is coming out of that dude.” He does all these really cool things. I found him and I got him to come and sing on one of my songs that’s coming out later in the year. He’s just such a cool dude. I’ve been trying to turn people on to him.

How did you find him?

Scrolling.

You’re a scroller!

Oh, heavily guilty. I tell Amy it’s my TV now instead of channel surfing. Once in a while you’ll come upon a great young musician, or a great young singer, or a great comedian. There’s so many options, and if you stop on something, it’ll start giving you hundreds of things just like that.

The algorithm gets you.

Yeah, exactly. But it’s entertaining, and I found a couple of people to track down and
have them sing on my record because I like what they do.

What do you scroll?

YouTube, Facebook, Instagram. Most of the stuff is pointless, but there’s a nugget once in a while.

How do you handle the cruelty of social media? It can get to anyone, especially when it’s directed toward you.

It can, if you let it. That’s the life we live in now. You can’t go perform and not have everybody have a camera out and put it up and showing it and seeing it. You have a bad night and everybody’s going to rip you for it. It’s like, “How much negativity can you continue putting out there, saying negative things?” It’s never going to stop, you know that, but it’s still entertaining to read.

I read it to be informed and I don’t mind taking it. I’ve lived with critics being critical of everything I’ve ever done. It comes with the territory. If you’re brave enough to stand up there and speak through a microphone, you know you’re going to get judged to some degree. Once in a while, somebody will say something and I say, “That’s fair. That’s truthful.” Other people will say things and I go, “You don’t even know what the hell you’re talking about, but you have an opinion that’s inflammatory towards me, and you couldn’t be more wrong.” I know that, so it doesn’t have an impact.

Sadly, people have to get on there, the keyboard warriors. They think they finally have a voice. Being able to post and have an opinion, they think that gives them a voice. But in the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t. I know that, so I just take it with a grain of salt and move on.

Perhaps being 68 years old with experience and success makes that easier than for a young person just starting out.

People are still critical of me being in the Eagles. They say, “Now it’s a cover band and you shouldn’t be there,” blah, blah, blah. You know it’s coming, so press on. Say whatever you want. Say it to my face and see what happens to you!

I can’t control any of it. I can control me. I can control my heart, what my heart thinks, what my heart feels. If you hate what I do, that’s okay. A lot of people don’t like what I do. I’m used to that. You’re not going to stop me.

Earlier we talked about hope. I just hope people respond. I don’t mind if they respond negatively. You don’t want that, you’d rather not, but it’s funny how you can get a hundred good reviews on a record and one bad and you only remember the bad one. That’s human nature. It’s not a weakness. It just goes to show how being cruel and negative towards someone has an impact.

I think about the times I was in school and was talked to in a negative way, and how it lasted. I remembered it forever. There was a girl I was in a band with for a little bit. She sang in this choir at the school that was really well thought of, and the choir director told her, “You are wasting your time with that guy and his banjo and bluegrass. He’s a fool.” And I just want to go, “Na-na-na-na-na!” But you remember it. And an English teacher that kicked me out of the class for saying something she didn’t like and painted me a certain way. You remember it.

My own kids, one teacher said to my youngest daughter, “My dog has more manners than you.” Things like that … my hundred-year-old mother is still pissed off about that! She’s still, “I’d like to get my hands on that teacher!” We’ve got a good bit of redneck in us!

I watch my sweet wife take slings and arrows all the time and the way she handles it is so beautiful to watch and so inspiring. It’s helped me do the same thing.

Can you play everything you hear in your head?

Probably. I hope so! It’s funny you brought that up, because being a musician and a singer, people say, “How do you get inspired to sing?” or “How do you get inspired to play?” Well, before I play something, in my head, I’m saying, “How would you sing this?” And when I’m getting ready to sing something, I ask myself, “How would you play this? What kind of rhythm? What kind of phrasing?” All those things.

I think the real difference [between] a good singer and a great singer is the way they phrase. Ray Charles could phrase like nobody’s business. Jerry Lee Lewis, when he sang country songs, could phrase like nobody else. George Jones could phrase like nobody else. You go on and on and look at all the greatest singers, and they’re unique because more so the way they phrased than how many notes they sang.

What is the difference between playing guitar and being a guitarist?

Oh, man. I don’t know if there is. I think it’s the same thing. It all comes from the same heart. It all comes from the same ears. I just play what I think fits. I think that’s what being a great guitarist is – playing what fits.

I saw something the other day that said, “I refuse to name who I think the greatest guitar player is,” and it makes sense to me because there’s no such thing. Everybody goes at it in a different way and has a different spirit about it, has a different way they want to play and statement they want to make. Then it becomes a matter of your preference, of what you like best, that defines what the best guitar player is.

I just like people that are gifted, and people that are musical, and they play what’s in their hearts and what they feel. If you feel it like they do, game over. If you don’t, you move on. Not every great guitar player moves me. It might move you. I think we’re lucky that we can be subjective and not have to all feel the same way about the same things.

Let’s close with a lightning round. Anything goes, whatever comes to mind. An album you wish you had played on.

Hotel California.

A song you wish you had written.

’Till I Gain Control Again” by Rodney Crowell.

A session in which you wish you could have been a fly on the wall.

Together Again” by Buck Owens.

A concert you attended that made your head spin.

Paul McCartney.

A guitar solo you wish you could claim as your own.

Oh, gosh. I might have to go with a Chet Atkins solo, because he’s the first person I ever saw play live when I was a little boy.


Editor’s Note: Check out part one of our Good Country conversation with Vince Gill here.

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Photo Credit: David McClister

BGS 5+5: Trey Hedrick

Artist: Trey Hedrick
Hometown: Wilkesville, Ohio
Latest Album: Sing, Appalachia (released February 20, 2026)

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

Literature. It has probably helped my writing more than anything besides the act of writing itself. Wendell Berry has had a huge influence on me and he’s far and away my favorite writer. His prose is exceptional. There is a restraint and steadiness to it. He’s extremely prolific and consistent, which isn’t an easy thing to achieve. He says a great deal with very little and I learn from that every time I read a page.

There are many great writers I draw from in the same way: McCarthy, Kingsolver, McMurtry, Leopold, Abbey, Rooney, Hemingway, Faulkner, Burroughs – to name a few. I read widely, but tend to gravitate toward certain styles when I’m working on a project of my own. I’m always reading and if I’m not I make myself feel bad until I do. It’s a big part of the peace my wife and I have built into our days. When I’m in a creative season, I am a bit more intentional about my picks.

Which elements of nature do you spend the most time with and how do they impact your work?

I love the out of doors. I grew up on a cattle farm in Appalachia and was usually either outside or in trouble. I still spend as much time as I can fishing and hiking and – something that is likely unknown about me – I love rock climbing and have traveled the world climbing. I am also a geologist in my straight job, which especially early on kept me working outside.

Nature shows up in almost every one of my songs. It is not something I reach for. It is just part of how I see things. Being outside has always been another place I find peace. If things are bad, going outside almost always makes them better to a varying degree for me

Admittedly, I do get tired of winter and the blues that come with it. That makes its way into the songs, too.

Genre is dead (long live genre!), but how would you describe the genres and styles your music inhabits?

I don’t think much about genre. My songs usually start on an acoustic guitar, so there’s naturally some bluegrass and country in them. That’s the language I grew up around. But I’m not trying to recreate anything. I don’t read music or know much theory and I don’t really know what rules I might be breaking. I’ve always had a good ear and I let that guide me. I’m lucky to have close friends who are incredible musicians, and they’d dress me down if something was off.

If someone needs a label, Americana works fine. Beyond that, I try not to overthink it or limit myself.

What is a genre, album, artist, musician, or song that you adore that would surprise people?

I love hip-hop, R&B, neo-soul type music. I especially love ’90s early 2000s neo-soul. D’Angelo, Erykah Badu, Lauryn Hill, Tevin Campbell, Mario, etc.

I enjoy those genres as much if not more, at times, than bluegrass and country. It’s like reading, I put on the music I need in the moment and I don’t limit myself. I guess that would surprise people, but I think it comes across in my singing some and may present in future sonic choices as well. We’ll see.

Since food and music go so well together, what is your dream pairing of a meal and a musician?

Fried potatoes from a cast iron skillet, greasy beans from Mamaw’s garden, macaroni noodles with tomato sauce, and a chicken fried steak. I could think of a lot of musicians to share that meal with, but the one who keeps coming to mind is Jerry Reed. He was hilarious and super intelligent. A great singer with excellent tone, and he was even a writer for Elvis on a couple tracks.

There’s a story about Elvis asking for Jerry to play on “Guitar Man,” a song Jerry wrote. Folks on Elvis’s team had to go get Jerry from the river where he was fishing to come to the studio and play the guitar part. None of the other session musicians could get it quite right. Legend. He isn’t really revered in modern memory for how brilliant of a technical player he was. He’d be a fun person to share that meal with.


Photo Credit: Chris Heidl

Vince Gill Has Done It All (Part 1)

Vince Gill doesn’t give interviews; he gives conversations – lengthy, engaging conversations filled with the same reflection and storytelling that make his songwriting so relatable and successful. Factor in his enviable mastery of guitar and other instruments and the result is a well-rounded artist who has won 18 CMA awards, 22 GRAMMY awards, and eight Academy of Country Music Awards.

In 2025, he was presented with the CMA Willie Nelson Lifetime Achievement Award, and this year, on May 6, he will receive the Ken Burns American Heritage Prize. He’s been a member of the Grand Ole Opry since 1991 and in 2005 was entered into the Nashville Songwriters Hall of Fame. Two years later, he was inducted into the Country Music Hall of Fame.

Over the course of 21 albums his sales exceed thirty million with 45 chart singles. Coming up is a summer tour, which will wrap with a six-night residency at the Ryman Auditorium, while continuing his ongoing schedule with the Eagles. All of this is only a cursory glance at his many accolades.

Gill’s accomplishments, and the experiences that accompany them, are at the core of his latest project, 50 Years From Home, a yearlong series of monthly EPs marking the fiftieth anniversary of his leaving home to pursue a music career. Each collection features themed new songs and revisited classics, with photos of select guitars on the covers. The EPs are introduced via detailed conversations with friend and colleague Charlie Worsham – watch all episodes on Gill’s YouTube channel.

Down At The Borderline, released February 13, is the fourth and latest EP in the series, while the next installment, Lonely’s What I Do, already arrives this Friday, March 13. A few weeks prior to the release of Down At The Borderline, Gill made himself available for more interviews and conversations, including a talk with Good Country.

At this point, it’s difficult to imagine anything Vince Gill hasn’t done. In fact, there are two key things, neither of which he cares to pursue:

“I’ve never sent a text,” he says, “because I prefer talking to people. What you find out [with texts] is how many people really don’t want to talk to you!” And, “I’ve never posted anything on the internet,” although he does have a scrolling habit, which he gladly admitted to during this discussion.

As you move through endless interviews around these EPs, is there something you’ve always wanted to talk about but have never been asked? Now’s your chance to tell the world!

Vince Gill: I wouldn’t have a clue! I never was much of a planner. I think it’s a blessing that I just live in the moment. I don’t look ahead, I don’t look back much, and there’s not a lot of regrets in my life. I figure the mistakes I made were valuable to learn something. I never planned any of this. I didn’t sit down and have a diary that I’d go, “When I’m this age, I want to have done this and this.” I just answered the phone.

You should probably give classes on that, because this is an industry of nonstop worry: What’s going to happen? Will this work? Will this not work? To move from project to project, stage to stage of your career with that mindset is impressive.

I started out with absolutely not one dollar, so money has never been the reason for any of it. I bought a guitar when I was 18 years old and I moved away from home. It was an old pre-war Martin that was perfect for bluegrass. I spent every dime I had on it and I didn’t worry. I said, “My rent’s $15 a month, I’ll make a couple hundred bucks a week when we work, so I’ll be fine.”

Amazing.

Speaking of going from stage to stage of your career, the EPs are each a chapter told with collections of songs. Tell us more.

The majority of it is fairly new. From the time I started in 1975, there was no reason to have a publishing deal for a long time. Even after I had a record deal, I didn’t see the need because I had a place for my songs to land on my own records. I never partnered up with a publisher, to give away half the money, to give a monthly draw to help pay my rent or whatever. I was able to always pay the rent somehow – my house note, whatever it was – with playing and singing.

Three or four years ago, Jody Williams, who’s a lifelong publisher in Nashville and a friend of mine for 40-something years now, called me and said, “You’ve never had a publisher. Would you consider letting me manage your songwriting for a while? I think you still have a lot to say as a songwriter.” I said, “Yeah, I’ll try that out.”

He would call great songwriters and say, “Would you like to write a song with Vince?” I was never a very good self-promoter, so I would never do that on my own. I just let it unfold with people I would meet. So it started me down this path of writing a lot of music, and over the last three or four years I’ve written twice as many songs as I’ve recorded on this new 50 Years From Home project. I think I’m writing the best songs I’ve ever written. With time you should get better, and I think I have.

I don’t want to check out someday and have all these songs lost in a desk drawer somewhere, so I’ve started recording them all. It’s a different world now, a different way. If you want to release 75 songs, you can do it. You don’t have to have one album with 10 songs on it anymore. So I started thinking about what it would be. My first conception was to release two songs a week, like an A-side and B-side of a 45. “It’s Monday, it’s time for a couple new Vince songs.” The record company came up with the idea of, “Why don’t you do a series of EPs and have six or seven songs on each one?” I said, “That sounds cool. We’ll put one out a month.”

That’s where the whole thing started. I was trying to find a way to put all this out. I realize at this point in my life, I’m almost 69, I don’t have as much time left to be creative as I’ve had to this point, obviously. How much more it matters now is palpable. It really means something to me to be creative, and if I see myself improving, I want to nurture and foster that and continue, because it’s so dear to me, being musical, being creative, coming up with an idea, coming up with a story that could potentially move somebody, touch somebody. It’s unbelievable to be able to have that gift, to be able to do that. So I’m trying to take full advantage of it.

But 68 or 69 today is not the 68 or 69 of our parents’ years. When you’re a kid, your parents turn 50 and it seems ancient.

That’s true. My mom’s a hundred years old.

See? You have many more years to go, especially if you’re still 17 in your head, which happens in this business.

Yeah, and I am. I don’t feel any different than when I pulled out of the driveway and took off. I still have the same love and I’m so drawn to playing music. It’s such a huge part of me. I tell everybody, “My mom’s a hundred and I hope I’m really her son, so I have those genes! For all I know, she might have rented me out of a yard in southern Oklahoma somewhere!” But my dad checked out early. He died at 65 – and I was afraid of being 65. There’s so many instances of people passing at the same age as their parents and whatnot.

I’ve heard from others that it’s a strange feeling when you reach the age when a parent passed.

Absolutely. But my dad drank a lot, he smoked two packs a day, and he didn’t take very good care of himself. I don’t think I have too many of those qualities. I don’t smoke and I don’t drink. I eat bad, but that’s about it.

You’ve stated many times that your goal was always to be a recording musician. With reality shows and social media, do young players have that same goal, or is a lot of it about chasing clicks and stardom? Are you concerned about the future of musicianship?

No, because there are plenty of young kids out there that can play their brains out. There’s so many of them that you don’t worry about it. I tell people all the time, “If American Idol was on in 1948, Little Jimmy Dickens would’ve been on it.” I don’t really care for those shows – and not in a bad way, because a lot of talented people go on them – but sadly, you don’t see that really bear out with a lot of artists coming from those shows that have longevity. They have that moment, but we’re so ready to slide our thumb and move on to the next scrolling thing. It’s the same way with those shows: “The season’s over. Okay, who are the new ones?” And I never like seeing creativity be a contest.

But I don’t worry too much. You see someone like Sierra Hull, who can play better than anybody in the whole world, and Michael Cleveland, and so many that come along that can completely annihilate their instruments. It’s beautiful to watch. I don’t think that’ll ever go away.

Does AI-created “music” concern you?

Of course, but when I’m asked about it, I say, “The people who create it, deep down, they know they haven’t done anything. They know they’ve done nothing.”

As a recording and performing guitarist, singer, and songwriter over a lot of years, how has your approach changed? Your technique, your picking style, your ear, your tone?

It’s a combination of all of those things. I’ve spent the latter years realizing what I don’t need, what I don’t need to do, what I don’t need to play, what I don’t need to sing, what I don’t need to say in the lyrics. To me, the beauty of it is your willingness to try to say the most with the least.

I like my singing better now than I did when I had hits. I much prefer the way I sing and play my songs today. That’s motivation enough, that I feel like I’m better now than I ever was. My ears have never lied to me, and with that, if I feel like I’m making progress, that’s all the reason in the world to keep doing it. If I start wheezing like an old woman, I probably won’t wanna go out there and sing. But, thank God, that hasn’t happened yet,

With music, the more you do it, the more you learn. The point of it is not to impress, but to move people. If you can move people with what you play and sing and write, that’s the real gift. That’s when you really get something that matters out of it, rather than a big “Woo, that was incredible! That was impressive.” That’s fleeting in a way. I like the long haul.

I could have very easily stopped working on other people’s records and being a sideman and a harmony singer and guitar player and what have you. But I love doing that so much, because I always thought it was a harder job to complement somebody and what they’re doing, more so than doing what you want and having everybody follow you. It took more talent to do that – better ears, bigger ears, that kind of stuff. So I continue to do that. I’ve worked on over a thousand artists’ records in the last 50 years. The diversity of that, the willingness to go into any kind of world of music and try, and not just be shortsighted and only do this and only do that – I love all of it. I’ll find something good in any of it. If I can play a part in making something better that’s being done, then that’s a good feeling.

Can you draw a through line from your bluegrass roots to what you’ve done and what you do now?

“When I Call Your Name” wouldn’t have sounded like it did had I not played bluegrass. That high lonesome sound was totally taken out of my love and life of bluegrass. A song on one of my new records [Secondhand Smoke, EP 2] is called “Hill People,” with [harmony vocalist] John Meador – great singer, great player, it just blows my mind how good he is. That sounds the way it does, it was written the way it was, because of my history of bluegrass.

I was never one of those guys that [would say], “I can only play bluegrass and it has to be traditional.” I loved New Grass Revival. They were different than Bill Monroe and I loved it all. If you take whatever’s great about something and cast the rest aside, then you’ve done your job. I’m not critical of young people that don’t do it the way I did it, or the way my heroes did it. That doesn’t serve anybody any good, to be critical of stuff. I remember hearing Billy Strings talk about how he would go to jam sessions and felt unwelcomed, and that killed me. I felt so bad for him.

I experienced that once when I was 17. We were playing some bluegrass festival, a hardcore traditional-minded festival. We were up there playing “Rocky Road Blues,” which is a Bill Monroe song, but we were doing it real bluesy. The promoters kicked us out of the festival and said, “You can’t be playing that kind of music!”

As they were kicking us out, Jim & Jesse were playing Chuck Berry’s “Johnny B. Goode.” I said, “Now wait a minute. We’re playing a Bill Monroe song and we’re going to get kicked out, and they’re playing ‘Johnny B. Goode’ by Chuck Berry? What’s cool about that?” They go, “Their suits match. Get outta here!”

I’ve known Sam Bush for 50-something years. The story he tells about Monroe is that he said, “What is it you call that music you play?” Sam said, “We call it New Grass.” He goes, “Yeah, I hate that.” That kills me, but it didn’t impact Sam one bit. But that hardline thing – I don’t go for it.

You’ve said that the role of the artist is to speak for others. Are there songs that speak for you, or to you, in those moments?

I like the things that are the most honest, that are not trying to be something they’re not. I’m not a fan of singers that alter the sound of their voice to make it do something it doesn’t naturally do. I heard Merle Haggard say, “Man, just tell the truth.” That’s where I’m finding the biggest inspiration in songs is being truthful. I think the truth has always been the greatest thing you can lean on.

People talk about country music, and if you could point somebody to what you think country music is, I’d say Merle Haggard’s “Mama Tried.” How it starts– “I turned 21 in prison doing life without parole.” That’s pretty dark. That’s pretty sad. And then, “No one could steer me right, but Mama tried.” There’s your hope.

One thing they’ve never taken away from me is hope. Even though they quit playing my records on radio stations and I don’t have hits anymore, I’m always hopeful that something will slide through and move people. I had hope when I made my first record at 16 or 17 years old, and lo and behold, some radio station played it and I heard it in my pickup truck. That instilled a hope in me that’s never faded. They can pass on songs, they can not play them, they can do all that, but they have never dinged my hope in my heart for what it is that I want to try to do.

Where were you in your truck when you heard yourself on the radio for the first time?

I-40, Oklahoma City. I was driving and all of a sudden they started playing “July You’re a Woman.” It’s a John Stewart song and we’d done a bluegrass version of it. I was singing lead. I think some other bluegrassers had done that same song. I’m driving and all of a sudden they started playing it on the radio station and I get on the CB radio and start screaming, “You’re not going to believe it! They’re playing our record on the radio!” Truckers were coming back saying, “Hey, you sound good, kid! Hang in there.” Wow.

The first record I ever made, I heard on the radio. It put that dose of hope in me that has never faded.


Editor’s Note: Read part two of our Good Country conversation with Vince Gill here.

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Photo Credit: David McClister

The Working Songwriter: Jason Boland

Our guest today on the Working Songwriter hails from Oklahoma and is a foundational contributor to the uniquely American genre of Red Dirt music. Jason Boland released his first album, Pearl Snaps, in 1999 and has been on the road ever since. Nightclub by nightclub, fan by fan, he’s built a devoted national audience.

LISTEN: APPLE • SPOTIFY • LIBSYN • MP3

Boland has toured with Turnpike Troubadours, Cross Canadian Ragweed, Reckless Kelly, and a host of others. He’s recorded for Thirty Tigers and Top Hat Records. He’s appeared at Stagecoach, Luck Reunion, and the MusicFest at Steamboat. Texas Monthly called him “equal parts poet, rebel, and road warrior” and Rolling Stone declared his sound “unpolished, unsparing, and deeply human.”

I got a chance a while back to catch up with Jason and hear about his musical journey so far.


Photo Credit: Cameron L. Gott Photography

You Gotta Hear This: New Music From Brit Taylor, Trey Hensley, and More

Happy Friday! We have new music for you to enjoy and, as always, You Gotta Hear This.

To start us off, Chicago Farmer (singer-songwriter Cody Diekhoff), shares a nostalgic and stripped-down country song, “The Twenty Dollar Bill,” that pays tribute to his grandparents and the “family roots” that he takes with him wherever he goes. The track is from his brand new album, Homeaid, which is out today. Kentuckian country singer, songwriter, and artist Brit Taylor has a new album today as well, Land of the Forgotten. To celebrate, we’re sharing “Done Pretending,” a song from the project co-written by Taylor, Adam Wright, and Jon Decious that decries relationships that are all “take” and no “give.”

There’s plenty of excellent guitar picking included here, too. Bryan Sutton returns to the roundup, this time with blues guitarist Joe Bonamassa in tow. The pair duet on Bill Monroe’s “Blue Night,” acoustic and electric guitars in shred-tastic dialogue on the classic number. The track comes from Sutton’s upcoming duets album, From Roots to Branches. Then, bluegrass and Americana flatpicker Trey Hensley calls on his friend and fellow guitarist Molly Tuttle for his new single, “Going and Gone.” Hensley penned the song with Bobby Starnes and features the bluesy, breakneck picking for which he has become known.

To wrap up, we have a new music video featuring lush and groovin’ Americana from YARN, a genre blurring-and-blending outfit that has been performing and recording for more than 20 years. For a song considering existence, fate, and the rat race at large, “Might as Well Be King” has an exquisite, gritty vibe – an excellent harbinger for the group’s new album, Saturday Night Sermon, arriving in April.

Whether your tastes lean towards bluegrass, blues, country, or Americana – You Gotta Hear This!

Chicago Farmer, “The Twenty Dollar Bill”

Artist: Chicago Farmer
Hometown: Delavan, Illinois
Song: “The Twenty Dollar Bill”
Album: Homeaid
Release Date: March 6, 2026
Label: LoHi Records

In Their Words: “When I was in high school my grandma started giving me a $5 bill to keep in my shoe for emergencies. When I told her I was going to be a musician she upped it to a $10. When I told her I was moving to Chicago she said, ‘You’re going to need a $20.’

“My grandfather lived pretty much his whole life in the same farmhouse that he grew up in. He was a storyteller from a small town and sharp as a tack. Grandma was a city girl, she grew in Peoria, Illinois. The home of Richard Pryor. She rode the city bus and had street smarts. Together, there wasn’t much they didn’t know or couldn’t fix or remedy. Grandpa passed away a few years ago just shy of 102. Grandma will be 98 this summer. They’re farmers, they’re veterans, and they’re my family roots that I take with me wherever I go. In song and in my heart. This song is for them.” – Cody Diekhoff, Chicago Farmer


Trey Hensley, “Going and Gone” Featuring Molly Tuttle

Artist: Trey Hensley
Hometown: Jonesborough, Tennessee
Song: “Going and Gone” featuring Molly Tuttle
Album: Can’t Outrun The Blues
Release Date: March 6, 2026 (album)
Label: Pinecastle Records

In Their Words: “I wrote ‘Going and Gone’ with Bobby Starnes the same day that he and I wrote ‘Can’t Outrun the Blues.’ And I immediately loved both of those songs. It’s one of those story songs that just falls together and paints a picture without spelling out every detail. ‘Going and Gone’ was the first song we recorded for the project – and I was thrilled to get my friend and one of my favorite guitar players and singer-songwriters, Molly Tuttle, to join in on guitar and vocals. We had a blast getting to work together in the studio and I think that comes through in the final recording!” – Trey Hensley


Bryan Sutton, “Blue Night” with Joe Bonamassa

Artist: Bryan Sutton
Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee
Song: “Blue Night” with Joe Bonamassa
Album: From Roots to Branches
Release Date: March 6, 2026 (single)
Label: Mountain Home Music Company

In Their Words: “I couldn’t be more thrilled to have Joe Bonamassa on this duets project. I’ve been a fan of his for a long time. I wasn’t sure what he would play when we cut this song, because all of this was acoustic. I love that he played electric guitar. I love the fact that it’s a different kind of song for this record and being able to interpret an old Bill Monroe song like this was just really, really fun.” – Bryan Sutton

Track Credits:
Bryan Sutton – Acoustic guitar, vocal
Joe Bonamassa – Electric guitar


Brit Taylor, “Done Pretending”

Artist: Brit Taylor
Hometown: Hindman, Kentucky
Song: “Done Pretending”
Album: Land of the Forgotten
Release Date: March 6, 2026
Label: RidgeTone Records, distributed by Thirty Tigers

In Their Words: “I wrote this tune with Adam Wright and Jon Decious – two of the most clever humans I know.

“I don’t know if other women have ever felt this way, but I have been in more than a few relationships that were a whole lot of take and basically no give. Then I realized that once you’ve given all you can give and done all you can do, you reach a point where there’s nothing left. No sadness, no anger, no regret – you are just done. That’s where the character is at in this song. She’s basically emotionless about it. She’s just done and she’s at peace with it.” – Brit Taylor


YARN, “Might As Well Be King”

Artist: YARN
Hometown: New York City, New York
Song: “Might As Well Be King”
Album: Saturday Night Sermon
Release Date: March 6, 2026 (single); April 24, 2026 (album)
Label: 333 Entertainment

In Their Words: “Let the good times roll. We don’t know why we’re here or how any of this existence even works. Is it all fated? Is it all free will? So many folks in competition with each other fighting over some made up ‘green god,’ because they’re taught that is the way. But, it’s entirely up to us as individuals to define our own way. Nothing is law, there are no rules, this is whatever we make it. So the point of this song is nothing more than, don’t put too much stock in these ridiculous systems we’ve created. Have fun being human, embrace your human form and being able to do whatever you want with it; it doesn’t last long.” – Blake Christiana

Track Credits:
Blake Christiana – Lead vocals, guitar
Andy Thomas – Lead guitar, backing vocals
Rick Bugel – Bass
Robert Bonhomme – Drums
Damian Calcagne – Hammond B3


Photo Credit: Brit Taylor by Sammy Hearn; Trey Hensley by Cora Wagoner.

Tucker Wetmore Is Buckled Up for the Ride

If you’ve read about Tucker Wetmore or listened to one of his many interviews, chances are the following subjects were lobbed his way: women, whiskey, blondes versus brunettes.

When the “star-maker machinery” that is the business of music collides with media outlets in search of headlines and algorithm rankings, it can make or break a promising new artist by reducing them to a pretty face with a clickbait story angle, the whole time steamrolling over the singer-songwriter at the core.

Tucker Wetmore is keenly aware of this and proceeds with caution. He’s affable enough to play along and astute enough to know the game. Peel back the layers and you’ll find a thoughtful, hard-working artist rooted deeply in faith and family and with a sense of public image versus personal values, carefully monitoring how and what he presents.

With multiple hit singles, award nominations, over a billion streams, product endorsements and campaigns, television appearances, endless interviews, the 2024 breakout Waves on a Sunset EP, and 2025’s unstoppable nineteen-track What Not To, Wetmore is taking it all in with cautious abandon, savoring the wins as they come.

It’s been a long, hard-fought road in a story now told countless times: he grew up in a small town, was raised in the church, brought up by his mother when his father walked out on the family. Music became vital at a young age, athletic prowess and four state titles led him to college, a severe football injury sidelined his career goals. Back home, he again threw himself into music, moved to Nashville in 2020, and pursued his dream.

On January 25, 2026, Wetmore added another victory to his timeline – this one particularly special, as it brought with it a lifetime of memories. He performed the National Anthem at Lumen Field during the halftime show at a Seattle Seahawks game, in front of a stadium filled with cheering fans.

He was still on that high when he spoke with Good Country only days after – and days before the launch of his Brunette World Tour. “It felt like a full circle moment,” he says of the halftime show. “I’ve been to Seahawks games growing up. I’ve been in that stadium, screaming my face off, cheering for the ‘Hawks. But to be on the field and playing my songs in front of thousands and thousands of people was absolutely surreal, especially for something as big as the NFC Championship. I’ve pretty much seen every NFC Championship since I was born. I was super nervous, but we got through it and we didn’t mess up too bad, so it was a good time.”

You have the biggest country debut album from a new artist in 2025. When did you realize that things were really taking off and it was time to “buckle your seatbelt, because this is happening”?

Tucker Wetmore: I’d say even before the album. The first time I felt like that was when Kameron Marlowe was nice enough to bring me on tour. I had one song out and I hadn’t even dropped “Wind Up Missin’ You” yet. I remember getting onstage at that first show and people screaming my songs back to me, singing every word to the songs I had teased [online]. It was absolutely insane. I was like, “I should probably buckle up. This is getting pretty real.” That’s when I knew I might have a chance to do this.

Can you ever be truly prepared for this level of success?

There’s definitely ways to prepare for certain situations, but there’s curveballs thrown at you every single day, so there’s no way to prepare for that. To put it in sports terms, learning how to sit back on the curve, wait for it to cross the plate, swing, and hopefully hit it.

We know about fan reactions to “What Not To,” and people relating to it from the perspective in which you wrote it. Have you also heard from fathers whom that song is hitting as hard because of what they didn’t do?

I’ve heard stories at meet-and-greets, people spending a little extra time telling me about how much that song has helped them cope. But I don’t think I’ve heard anything from fathers having that realization. That’s a touchy subject, and I hope it moves some fathers to want to be better.

All I can do with my music is write what I’m feeling, produce it the way I think it should sound, and put it out to the world for people to do what they will with it. One of my goals with that song was hopefully this changes some viewpoints on some fathers, and hopefully it helps people learn. It’s a “glass half full” kind of song. It’s saying, “Even though these things happened to me in my life, I can learn from this and use everything as a lesson,” instead of, “Oh, poor me.”

Have you ever fallen into that mindset?

I think we’re all human and we all do it. Not in a really long time, though.

I look at life as an opportunity. Whether it’s good or bad, it’s always an opportunity to learn and grow. I don’t [fall into it] so much anymore, but I remember being young and being pretty upset about some of the cards I was dealt. Luckily, my mom’s great and my family’s super supportive, I’ve got the best friends in the world that think the world of me, and I do the same for them. So I’ve got good people around me to keep my head on straight.

You had to grow up early when your dad left. What are some life lessons you took from those years that apply to your life and career now?

Growing up, I had four sisters and a beautiful mother, so it was a lot of women in the house, but it taught me a lot of things and I wouldn’t have changed it for the world.

There’s definitely times where I thought, “It’d be really nice to go out with another male and throw the ball out in the yard.” But looking back at it now, I learned so much about how to care for women, and how to be a provider, at a really young age, even though there wasn’t much I could do back then. Now I’m taking all those lessons and putting them into real life, like providing for my family, taking care of them, making sure they’re good mentally and financially.

A lot of things I learned at a young age are translating into my life now. Down the road, when I do find that special someone, I want kids someday. I want to build a family and do it right. And so I’d say I’m prepared for when that day comes because I know what to do and what not to do.

In an interview with Billboard, you said about music, “It saved me. It helped me. It was my therapy.” Let’s talk about how music helped you and how it continues to do so.

Music is, in my opinion, the best form of therapy. I think it’s God’s gift to us to be able to create and sing along, or dance, or whatever it is, to a tune. Music has shaped my mindset so much. I started playing when I was 10 or 11 years old and it shaped the way I cope with things. Instead of getting angry or upset or sad or frustrated, whatever the emotion is, I sit down at my piano and I just play for 30 minutes to an hour.

Being creative and having that creative mind, it runs fast and it runs 24/7. It’s … not a double-edged sword, but there’s a yin-yang to it. Music is the thing that drives me crazy because my mind can’t shut up and stop. But at the same time, I was in a write yesterday and the energy in the room was so great for four or five hours straight. We were smiling and laughing and creating the song. So music is my escape from what music does to my brain, if that makes any sense. It helps me ease the craziness of my mind.

During those earlier periods, when music, as you said, saved you, how dark was the darkness?

I lean very strongly on my faith, even during the dark times, and we all get them. I’m the happiest man in the world most days, but I still have days where the weight of the world feels like it’s compressing my spine, in a sense. It’s definitely been dark at times, but I lean on faith and I lean on God, and I lean on my music and other people’s music. It’s easy to snap out of when you have those avenues that are so moving to the soul or the mind.

Has there ever been a time when your faith wavered, or when you questioned it?

Yes. In college … it sounds wrong, and I don’t mean it in this way, but I kind of put my faith on the back burner. I was focusing on other things instead of the most important thing. I was playing football, I was partying a lot with my buddies, I was drinking every weekend to escape whatever it is. I still drink, but I do it with a solid conscience and it’s more celebratory now. There’s a fine line of focusing on worldly things and keeping your eye on the bigger picture of faith and the blessings that God has for us, because there’s so many.

You are giving a portion of ticket sales from this tour to Face The Fight, supporting suicide prevention and mental health treatment for veterans. Why is this the organization you selected to promote and help?

The first time meeting them, I turned to my manager and I was like, “I want a part of this. Let’s find a way to do something.” We put our minds together and it was, “What if we do ticket sales?” I was like, “Yes, a hundred percent.” It’s a huge thing for me because I’ve got a lot of veterans in my family, a lot of men that served and that have given their life on the battlefield.

My grandpa was like my father figure a lot growing up. He ended up taking his life five years ago. He was a very decorated veteran and one of the best people I’ve ever met, but even though it was so many years later, he couldn’t win that battle in his mind.

I think it’s super important to not just shine a light on it, these people that have given so much for our country and the people in it. It is such a selfless act, especially in the heat of war, when you’re fighting for people that you don’t even know, and doing things that no human should do, in my opinion. And then to come home, and 20 or 30 years down the road you’re still thinking about it, and still in that mental space of, “I can’t escape my mind.”

What [Face The Fight] is doing is amazing. It’s a blessing to be a part of. I think if my grandpa had an avenue like that, or knew of an avenue like that, maybe he’d still be here.

In an interview or podcast, you mentioned that you read the comments–

Sometimes.

You must have a really thick skin, because that can wear a person down.

There’s a lot of keyboard warriors out there. I can read the worst comment in the world and it doesn’t get under my skin at all. At the end of the day, I know who I am. The irony behind it is most of the people saying heinous and nasty things online have never created a song. They’ve never sung a tune. They’ve never sat in a room at 3 a.m. because they can’t sleep and put all their feelings on a piece of paper and tried to put a melody behind it. They don’t get it. They see things at surface level. I’m not going to bash on them or say it’s their fault for that. There’s irony behind it and that’s all I take it as. It’s funny to me. It’s almost comical at times.

@tuckerwetmore This one is getting loud live.. #songofthesummer ♬ Brunette – Tuck

I heard you use the words “build your brand” during a podcast. There’s a lot of image in this industry: wear the tight jeans, pose with your shirt up – you know what I’m talking about. How do you make sure this doesn’t overshadow the craft? As a new artist, do you have the autonomy to say no, to not answer a question, to stop an interview, to not want to take this picture?

While building a brand, and while creating something that is larger than yourself, it is more important to say no than it is to say yes. I definitely have the autonomy of saying no, and I do say no to a lot of things that come across the table. It’s saying yes to the correct things that align with not just the goal of what we’re trying to build, or the pillars that we are building it on, but morally. I account for my faith in pretty much all the decisions I make.

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.” I think I’ve done that pretty decently. 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.

Earlier you mentioned people reacting to song teasers. Before this career explosion, was there pressure to keep up when “everyone” is teasing songs on social media and the algorithm is bombarding people? It can turn into artists chasing numbers, which can also affect your mental health. How did you ride that storm without falling victim to it?

The grace of God, honestly. That’s a tough thing. It’s easy to compare yourself to others, based on a numerical scale of, “This got a million views, and I just posted one that’s got 150,000, it’s not being shared.” It’s very easy to get into that comparison mindset, but I do think it’s important to keep posting your stuff. Luckily, I’m getting to the point where I don’t have to post all the time. Posting is one of the most taxing things to my brain. I can’t stand just sitting there and making TikToks or taking photos or whatnot.

I realize the weight that a viral video can hold to your career and to a certain song or a project. It’s an easy way for millions of people to engage with what you’re trying to create. It’s a great tool. That’s the word I’ll use for it: social media is a tool. Some people idolize it and can’t go through their day without it. I look at it as a tool for people to share my music and hear my music and get excited about the things I’m trying to do.

We can’t do this without talking about your mother. She is such an integral part of your life and your career. Without her support, how different would your trajectory have been?

I don’t think there would be any trajectory at all, honestly. After I got injured playing football and dropped out of college, I was living back home. I remember having that conversation with her. I was like, “Mom, I really want to chase this music thing.” It was like a sigh of relief from her, in a sense. Her shoulders went down, she took a deep breath, she goes, “Finally. Finally. I’ve been telling you this for years now.”

She helped me pack up all my stuff and move, and she supported me financially the first couple years of me moving to Nashville. I would be living on the street if it weren’t for her – metaphorically living on the street, because she would never let me do that. She believed in me before I even had good songs. She believed in my work ethic and my mind and my creativity. One of the biggest blessings God has given me is a mother who cares and wants to see her kids succeed in whatever dream they have.

And now she’s doing podcasts and talking about your childhood.

Yeah. Somebody needs to rein her back a little bit!

You love being on the lake. Is water also a form of therapy for you?

Oh, a hundred percent. I grew up in a super small town, Kalama, Washington. Because it’s built up on a hill, pretty much wherever you are, you can see the Columbia River. I spent so much time on that river, or on the Kalama River, or at the lakes surrounding. I feel happiest when I’m at the ocean or at the islands.

I’ve got a lake house in Nashville and it’s a great escape for me to go back home and be able to sit there and look at the water. It helps not just my creative mind, but [also] my mental health. Another thing God has given us as natural therapy is the beauty of a body of water. It’s the most simple thing in the world, but I do not take it for granted.

Is it a spiritual place for you as well, a natural church?

Yeah. Anything can be a church, as long as you’ve got the spirit in it!

What’s on your heart as you’re getting ready for this tour?

Excitement. It’s been a couple months since I’ve toured and I’m itching and eager to get back to it. I’ve had a great break. I’ve had a very creative break. I finished writing my second album yesterday. Obviously, things change and I get new thoughts or whatever, but right now I feel pretty confident in the songs we got, and I’m excited to get back on the road and maybe tease or play some of these new ones and see how people like them.

And I’m excited to just be on the road. I feel most alive when I’m in the craziness of it all. It does get taxing at times, but it’s truly a drug to not just me, but pretty much all my artist buddies. It’s a feeling you can’t really explain, getting up on a stage in front of thousands and having people scream your creations back to you. It’s the coolest thing in the world. I’m excited to see the fans and be with my band, my crew, and my team. It’s a family that we’ve built, and it’s going to be cool. I’m excited.

Since you brought it up, before we close, what can you tell us about the next album?

It is sonically one of the coolest things I’ve heard in a long time. I don’t want to give too much away. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about what I want this next record to be for the last year already. I think about what I get in my truck and listen to, and I’m kind of an older soul. So it’s very ‘70s-influenced and early ‘80s, with the guitar tones and drums and weird, synth-y sounding steel guitar licks. It’s really cool and it’s fresh, and I don’t think anybody’s really doing it right now, which I’m excited about but which is also scary, because I don’t know how people are going to feel about it because it is different.

I was thinking about this yesterday, actually: “Proving Me Right” is the perfect bridge into this next chapter, sonically. It’s not too far leaning over there, but it’s still got the old tendencies in it. If you were to listen to anything that gets you excited about this next record, I’d say “Proving Me Right” is a great start.


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Photo Credit: Chase Foster

Artist of the Month: Lucinda Williams

Among the 78 bands performing for thousands of fans at San Francisco’s 25th annual Hardly Strictly Bluegrass, our nation’s foremost Americana festival, in October of 2025, one of the largest audiences had gathered for Lucinda Williams. She took the main stage in the afternoon clad in a leather suit, studs on the hem of her pants. The groove from the band and her lyrics landed with resonant pounding, like the drop of a heavy set of books on a table. After more than 50 years of performing, her sound still hits.

Lucinda Williams grasped brilliance in 1998 with Car Wheels On A Gravel Road, but this was not some isolated incident. She has pursued the craft of album-making expertly for her entire career, and fans flock to her because there is always something more to scratch up. The singularity of her writing rings at a higher frequency today in our shallow digitized world. I see her current position in our culture to be similar to that of poet-songwriter Leonard Cohen in his final chapter. When she sings, we listeners get to grasp at something real, and we crave what Lucinda offers; intimate corporeal love, the palette of Southern backroads alongside broken-down juke joints, honest bewilderment at the state of the world while still loving it.

When I was 26, I set out on a road trip to trace Lucinda’s origins. Being a songwriter, I wanted to determine what I could do to strive and bloom, like she did. So I left California driving my 1995 Ford F-250. From Texas to Tennessee, I dug up characters from Lucinda’s early days. I was most interested in finding people who had worked with her in the beginning of her career.

In Jackson, Mississippi, I spent a day at Malaco Studios where Lucinda made her first record Ramblin’ On My Mind. While listening to outtakes, I happened upon the first-ever originals she recorded but never released. In those reel-to-reel tapes that had been sitting untouched in a concrete vault, I heard a voice from four decades ago that was clear and bold. Wolf Stephenson was the engineer from that session and he told me that in 1978 Lucinda was a resolute and present woman: “[In] day-to-day life, she was just as footloose and like she was on stage. And really there wasn’t much difference in sitting here talking [with her] or being on stage, very natural.”

In Austin, Texas, I was shocked to learn that well-known guitarist Charlie Sexton had played with Lucinda when he was just 11 and she was 26. At the Hole in the Wall where a booker once cancelled Lucinda’s gig because there were “too many girl singers that month,” Charlie and I discussed how he has learned from Lucinda as a writer. He reflected on his early impressions of her and told me, “…There’s no doubt that Lucinda was always going to be unique… I mean, she’s like a regional writer in a way… she’s the Flannery O’Connor of that era of singer-songwriter.”

Lucinda’s parents raised her in an extraordinary community. Her father Miller Williams was a professor, a translator, and a poet. He and his wife were descendants of humble traveling Methodist ministers with meager finances, but by the time their first daughter Lucinda was a teen, the family sat in the company of Nobel Prize-winning authors. Miller’s genuine passion for literature gave him the conviction to invite figures like Charles Bukowski and indeed Flannery O’Connor into his circle of friends and acquaintances. He hosted literary parties in the family’s Arkansas home. After drinks were served, Miller read some of his new poems out loud, and a young Lucinda sat and strummed her latest songs. Writers of the highest caliber listened at attention. Some of these writers gave Lucinda feedback. Perhaps just as important was that these writers also imparted genuine encouragement to Lucinda and told her that in spite of all of the suffering and uncertainties involved in being an artist, it was still a worthwhile pursuit in life.

Along my road trip I also discovered how committed Lucinda has been to her art over the decades. I spoke at length with some of the musicians and engineers that worked on Car Wheels On A Gravel Road. I learned from Lucinda’s recollections that when you have that itching worry that a sound just isn’t right on an album, you have to wrestle with the process to find the right timbre, the right soundscape that will thrill you. I found that a songwriter has to embrace change, even if they’re unsure of the career consequences. I found that artists can’t just make the same album over and over again. Well… they can, but they probably shouldn’t. A songwriter has to keep seeking out that sound, that story that pulls at their soul’s musical corners, like Lucinda did.

Lucinda’s latest release, World’s Gone Wrong, is a continuation of the directness I’ve known her for. She conveys her truth with her language of simplicity. So often in our era, bathed in a slurry of news and trends, opinions from artists can feel glued-on. But that’s not the case with Lucinda. She conveys her frustrations with the state of the world from a genuine and honest place and, when she sings, I believe her. As with so much of her writing, in her latest album I feel like I’m reading a book, inhabiting the imagined place of the viewer and the subject.

The characters in Lucinda’s songs are alive, bleeding, imperfect, and desirously wanting. We benefit from the chance to continue paying attention to the words she writes.

If you’d like to learn all about how I retraced the roots of Lucinda Williams, check out Finding Lucinda, my podcast released in partnership with the BGS Podcast Network. You can also watch the documentary film Finding Lucinda on AppleTV, Youtube and more.

Stay tuned as BGS and Good Country celebrate Lucinda Williams as Artist of the Month throughout March. Enjoy our Essential Lucinda Williams playlist below and check out an exclusive interview with Williams here. Plus, we’ll be diving into the BGS archives for all things Lu and exploring our favorite covers of her songs by other artists, too. Follow along right here on BGS and on social media for more.


Photo Credit: Mark Seliger

You Gotta Hear This: New Music From Tenille Townes, Mac Cornish, and More

It’s Friday and it’s new music time! We’ve got a few things on the slate that you simply gotta hear.

Starting us off, quickly rising bluegrass up-and-comer 16-year-old Asher Brinson gives us a sneak preview of his upcoming single, “Midnight Hurricane,” the title track for an album the young songwriter and picker has set for release in early April. “Midnight Hurricane” features Sierra Hull on mandolin and Lindsay Lou on vocals – and Brinson more than holds his own among the talented roster on the track.

Also in bluegrass sounds, Jesse Smathers turns the clock and calendar back to the primordial musical ooze before bluegrass with his rendition of “Take A Drink On Me.” The track was inspired by Charlie Poole and the North Carolina Ramblers, with whom Smathers shares a hometown. As the artist and mandolinist puts it, “This tune is a prime example of early popular dance music” – the kinda stuff that inspired the earliest bluegrass artists like Bill Monroe, Earl Scruggs, and many others. In the hands of Smathers and his band, it’s a bluegrass song fit for any era.

There’s Good Country to enjoy below, as well. Mac Cornish unveils a new track, her cover of Ian & Sylvia’s “Trucker’s Cafe.” You can almost catch the glint of bright sunshine off a chromed truck stop diner listening to the tune, lush with pedal steel and honky-tonkin’ guitar. The boot scootin’ track was recorded in Nashville and produced by Andrija Tokic.

To round us out, Tenille Townes returns to the site with “The Acrobat,” a contemplative and resonant song featuring another of our favs, Lori McKenna. “When you’re barely hanging on it’s easy to let go,” Townes sings, her voice rich with emotion and conviction. The song is the title track for Townes’ upcoming album, set for release in April, and is a fitting nexus point for the LP. “After losing my way for a while,” Townes shares with BGS, “this song felt like such an important anchor for this album.” You can watch the brand new music video for “The Acrobat” below.

Take a scroll and enjoy your listen – You Gotta Hear This!

Asher Brinson, “Midnight Hurricane”

Artist: Asher Brinson
Hometown: Newport, North Carolina
Song: “Midnight Hurricane”
Album: Midnight Hurricane
Release Date: March 6, 2026 (single); April 3, 2026 (album)

In Their Words: “When Chris Henry and I got together to write, I told him I was having an ‘off’ day and he said to let it flow – say whatever was on my mind. Those thoughts became the first line of ‘Midnight Hurricane.’ Growing up on the North Carolina coast, hurricanes have always just been a part of my life. And it seemed like they always hit at night! Midnight is quiet, but your thoughts aren’t, and hurricanes are like that — all of your feelings hitting at once. It’s a love story wrapped in chaos and after the storm, there’s a calm that makes you appreciate what’s steady and real. With Sierra Hull on mandolin and Lindsay Lou on vocals, this song instantly became one of my favorites. I feel like they both added just the right touch. While hurricanes unfortunately bring destruction, they also have a way of bringing people and communities together… to uplift each other, support, and rebuild.” – Asher Brinson

Track Credits:
Asher Brinson – Guitar, lead vocal
Cory Walker – Banjo
Jason Carter – Fiddle
Christopher Henry – Bass, baritone vocal
Sierra Hull – Mandolin
Lindsay Lou – Tenor vocal


Mac Cornish, “Trucker’s Cafe”

Artist: Mac Cornish
Hometown: Currently Nashville, Tennessee, but grew up in the Bay Area, California
Song: “Trucker’s Cafe”
Release Date: February 27, 2026

In Their Words: “This single is a cover of the Ian & Sylvia song, ‘Trucker’s Cafe.’ The song is from their 1969 record, Great Speckled Bird, which they also used as the name of their newly formed band, including the likes of Buddy Cage and David Briggs. Ian and Sylvia are a huge influence on me because of their blending of folk, rock ‘n’ roll, and country – especially on this album and this song. The song is a subversive take on the trucking country fad of the 1960s and ’70s, taking the perspective of a heartbroken truck stop diner waitress. The vocals are distinctly folk with their vibrato and falsetto, but the instrumentation is all rockin’ country goodness with walking bass and ripping pedal steel. I’ve always said that the best year in music was 1969. This is one of the many songs I absolutely love from that year in music and it only felt right to record a cover and honor my influences. My cover was recorded in October of 2025 at the Bomb Shelter in Nashville, TN and was produced by Andrija Tokic.” – Mac Cornish

Track Credits:
Mac Cornish – Vocals, acoustic guitar
Charlie Fuerstch – Electric guitar
Jeff Taylor – Piano
Cooper Dickerson – Pedal steel
Jack Lawrence – Bass
Dave Racine – Drums


Jesse Smathers, “Take A Drink On Me”

Artist: Jesse Smathers
Hometown: Floyd, Virginia
Song: “Take A Drink On Me”
Release Date: February 27, 2026
Label: Mountain Home Music Company

In Their Words: “Though my familial roots are deeply planted in Western North Carolina, I was raised in Eden, NC – the home of Charlie Poole. I spent my youth picking and competing at the Charlie Poole Festival there. The festival was held at Morehead Park, on the same grounds where the cotton mill Poole used to work at once stood. I heard the music of Charlie Poole and the North Carolina Ramblers ringing throughout my childhood. He, along with his bandmates, were some of the most prominent precursors to bluegrass stylings that came nearly 20 years later. Tales of Poole, Posey Rorer, and Norman Woodlief are still being told today, as you would expect, with larger-than-life personalities and musicians.

“I often imagine this scene: walking down Morgan Road in Spray (one of three small communities that made up Eden) in 1926 as a bystander and hearing the centric bounce of Piedmont Mill music in the distance. As I approach, I witness the North Carolina Ramblers sitting on a stoop sharing tunes and a jug of the best white liquor that the area along the NC/VA line is so notorious for. That sight is exactly what came to mind when recording this tune and what comes to mind when I hear it back. This tune is a prime example of early popular dance music. Hunter Berry on fiddle masterfully captured the necessary musical essences all while integrating his own spontaneous and playful liveliness. The same can be said of Corbin Hayslett who mixed in popping Charlie Poole banjo techniques. Whether it’s a Coke, glass of tea, a beer, or a jar of Shooting Creek’s finest, all you rounders get ready to party and ‘Take A Drink On Me’!” – Jesse Smathers

Track Credits:
Jesse Smathers – Guitar, lead vocal
Hunter Berry – Fiddle
Corbin Hayslett – Banjo
Nick Goad – Mandolin, harmony vocal
Joe Hannabach – Upright bass
Patrick Robertson – Harmony vocal


Tenille Townes, “The Acrobat” featuring Lori McKenna

Artist: Tenille Townes
Hometown: Grande Prairie, Alberta, Canada
Song: “The Acrobat” featuring Lori McKenna
Album: The Acrobat
Release Date: February 27, 2026 (single); April 10, 2026 (album)

In Their Words: “There’s an underlying whisper in this song saying you don’t have to make yourself smaller anymore, and it is my greatest hope that someone hearing this could believe it’s true. I have been navigating a return to self season in my life and reclaiming the belief that I don’t have to contort myself to fit what anyone else needs. After losing my way for a while, this song felt like such an important anchor for this album. Writing this song through the lens of a character helped me to hold enough distance from myself to be able to write the truth, and name the quiet damage that comes from performing, instead of just being.

“Lori McKenna has been a compass influence for me and it’s an honor to have her singing on this song we wrote together. I love how she enters the recording on the line about the fortune teller with all her knowledge, because Lori has been that voice of wisdom for me for years through her songs. The honesty in her lyrics and the way her voice holds emotional tension has given me permission to explore that kind of vulnerability in my own writing. I’m grateful for our friendship, and for the opportunity to share a love for the craft of a song with someone I am still so inspired by.” – Tenille Townes


Photo Credit: Tenille Townes by Madison Rensing; Mac Cornish by Mandi Fountain.

Country Rocks,
Country Rules

Editor’s Note: Each issue of Good Country, our co-founder Ed Helms will share a handful of good country artists, albums, and songs direct from his own earphones in Ed’s Picks.

Ashley McBryde
Ashley McBryde

Ashley McBryde gets the year started off right with a soaring, anthemic new single. As you’ll see with “What If We Don’t,” Good Country and arena country aren’t mutually exclusive styles. Garage rock, country grit, and stadium-ready flair – McBryde is doing it better than almost anyone else out there.


Buck Meek
Buck Meek

Not your mamaw’s “Ring of Fire.” Big Thief’s Buck Meek launches his upcoming solo album, The Mirror, in just a couple of weeks. Its songs were grown where alternative, indie, folk, and country overlap, though each feels just outside of reach of any single one of those terms. Featuring Adrienne Lenker on BGVs, “Ring of Fire,” like Johnny’s classic by the same name, is about love and connection – but is perhaps the flipside of the Cash coin.


Emily Scott Robinson
Emily Scott Robinson

You can always trust the John Prine-founded Oh Boy Records to put out amazing music by generational songwriters. Emily Scott Robinson is certainly one. Her new album, Appalachia, embodies her heart-forward, community-minded approach to songcraft and musicmaking. Stand outs include “Hymn for the Unholy,” “The Time for Flowers,” the album’s title track “Appalachia,” and this lovely duet with John Paul White, “Cast Iron Heart.”

Read our recent interview with Emily Scott Robinson here.


Langhorne Slim
Langhorne Slim

Speaking of rock ‘n’ roll, our old pal Langhorne plugs in and turns up on his new album, The Dreamin’ Kind, which was produced by Greta Van Fleet’s Sam F. Kiszka. Slim’s personality – and the signature, charming touches that made us all fall in love with his music – is front and center on the new collection, however far into rockin’ territory he brings his Americana and folk sensibilities.

Find out more about The Dreamin’ Kind in our recent Cover Story interview.


Zach Top
Zach Top

He started as a bluegrass picker in a family band and a Keith Whitley and Tony Rice diehard. Now everyone’s favorite trad country revivalist is a GRAMMY Award winner. Top took home the trophy for Best Traditional Country Album for his sophomore release, Ain’t In It for My Health earlier this month. He’s the first awardee in the buzzed-about new category opposite Best Contemporary Country Album. Well deserved!



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Photo Credits: Ashley McBryde by Nathan Chapman; Buck Meek by Germaine Dunes; Emily Scott Robinson by Angelina Castillo; Langhorne Slim by Savannah Lauren; Zach Top by Getty Images for the Recording Academy.