WATCH: Adam Chaffins, “Who I Am” (Live)

Artist: Adam Chaffins
Hometown: 10 years+ Nashvillian (Eastern Kentucky native, from Louisa, Kentucky)
Song: “Who I Am” (Live)
Album: Some Things Won’t Last
Label: Chaffins Music

In Their Words: “A lot of my influence as a songwriter comes from torch songs. Keith Whitley sang a lot of them, like ‘I’ll Be Your Stepping Stone’ with J.D. Crowe & the New South. Songs of eternal pining for a love. ‘Who I Am’ is a torch song with a lot more brutal honesty to the torcheé. I started playing this version supporting John Hiatt on the road in 2019. It’s as bare-bones as a song can get.” — Adam Chaffins


Photo credit: Melissa Stillwell

BGS 5+5: Daniel Donato

Artist: Daniel Donato
Hometown: Spring Hill, Tennessee, an hour south of Nashville.
Latest Album: A Young Man’s Country (August 7, 2020)
Personal Nicknames: DD, sometimes.

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

I was walking by Legend’s Corner, a bar in Nashville with my father. This was the first day I ever busked on the street, and I made $0. The lead singer was taking a break to pass the tip jug. The bass player called me on stage, over the microphone. “You look like you play guitar,” he said. “I try,” I said! I got on stage, plugged in, and played for two songs that were completely improvised. That was it for me. I knew the stage was my soon to be dojo.

What other art forms inform your music?

Podcasts are big for me. Hence, why I started my own “The Lost Highway.” I think podcasts and jam bands aren’t all that different. What you have is complete improvisation with the instrument of language. Improvisation forces honesty but also unique expression out of your skill with said instrument. A moment in time is created by humans that truly could never happen again. It also is OK if this moment lasts a few hours! That sounds a whole lot like the Grateful Dead. Or a Cosmic Country show!

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

DD’s 3 P’s! Patience. Persistence. Positivity. These fuels are essential to keeping things Cosmic.

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

Songwriting is day one, each time. A perpetual white belt. Because each song is different. Quite literally, each song is the toughest one to write. Performance, content creation, and guitar playing are not like this at all.

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

I get as calm as possible. I get stoic. Essentially, view yourself outside of being yourself. This gives you a humbling perspective that allows you to see that everyone is quite on the same level. On stage, it is important for me to keep that in mind, so I can steer the wheel in the way that the audience will get the most out of the experience. It is all about the people. The more calm I am, the better the moment will be for the listeners on the other side of the guitar.


Photo credit: Jason Stoltzfus

LISTEN: The Texicana Mamas, “Lo Siento Mi Vida”

Artist: The Texicana Mamas (Tish Hinojosa, Stephanie Urbina Jones, and Patricia Vonne)
Hometown: San Antonio, Texas
Song: “Lo Siento Mi Vida”
Album: The Texicana Mamas
Release Date: August 21, 2020
Label: The Texicana Mamas

In Their Words: “I was hooked on Linda Ronstadt’s music from the first time I heard ‘Different Drum’ in 1967 when I was 12 years old. When I heard her sing ‘Lo Siento Mi Vida’ for the first time in 1976; as a fledgling folk singer myself at that time, I grew a whole new admiration for her artistry as a writer, as a sister, as a Latina. This poignant, tender song sung in Spanish captured the perfect essence of the romanticism of the beautiful Spanish language and sentiment. I am so pleased that our group, The Texicana Mamas, had the opportunity to pay tribute to Linda though recording her song.” — Tish Hinojosa, The Texicana Mamas


Photo credit: Emma Trejo

LISTEN: Ashley Ray, “Lawrence, Kansas”

Artist: Ashley Ray
Hometown: Lawrence, Kansas
Song: “Lawrence, Kansas”
Album: Pauline
Release Date: August 14, 2020
Label: Soundly Music

In Their Words: “‘Lawrence, Kansas is a love letter to my hometown. Sean McConnell and I wrote it at a time that I was coming up on living one half of my life there and one half of my life in Nashville. It really made me stop and think about how much I don’t want to lose my roots, I don’t want my memories of home to fade, I don’t want to lose my twang, I don’t want to forget how to get from one town to the next by way of all the back roads. Which made me think of what my Dad always told my sister and me on those back roads, ‘If you ever lose your way back home, look for Blue Mound Tower and remember we live north of there.'” — Ashley Ray


Photo credit: Electra King

LISTEN: Adam Wright, “Darlene”

Artist: Adam Wright
Hometown: Newnan, Georgia
Song: “Darlene”
Album: I Win
Release Date: October 9, 2020
Label: De Casa

In Their Words: I don’t really remember how this song started. Most of my character songs come from something I see or hear and then develop in the notebook later. My grandfather was a mechanic and I guess I have a bit of an affinity for them. I have several songs where the character works on cars. I just like this guy’s attitude. He badly needs this girl to make him feel better. He’s just had it with everything. I can relate. ” — Adam Wright


Photo credit: Shannon Wright

WATCH: First Aid Kit, “On the Road Again”

Artist: First Aid Kit
Hometown: Stockholm, Sweden
Song: “On the Road Again”
Release Date: August 14, 2020

In Their Words: “We’re excited to release our version of ‘On the Road Again’ by Willie Nelson. We recorded this cover a couple of years ago and recently found it while digging through the archives. The song is a country classic, it feels like we’ve known it forever. Because of the situation with COVID, sadly, the theme of the song has never felt more relevant than it does today.

“We made a video for the song using cellphone footage from our tours throughout the years. Going through all those videos made us emotional. It made us realize how much we appreciate being able to roam freely around the world. How much we love the feeling of playing live for people, in the flesh. How much we miss our incredible band and crew.

“All the proceeds from the streaming of the song will go to Crew Nation. So much of the magic happens behind the stage. It’s easily taken for granted, but without our touring and venue crew live music wouldn’t be possible. It’s important that we help them out right now. Oh, how we wish we could get back on the road again! Hopefully we’ll see you down the road sometime soon.” — Johanna and Klara Söderberg, First Aid Kit


Photo credit: Nirrimi Firebrace

‘Urban Cowboy’ at 40: How a Mechanical Bull Changed Mickey Gilley’s Life

Mickey Gilley admits he wasn’t keen on the idea of installing a mechanical bull at his namesake honky-tonk on the outskirts of Houston, Texas. Nor is he shy about admitting just how wrong he was. That rodeo training device transformed Gilley’s Club into a cultural force. “The mechanical bull was never meant to be in an entertainment establishment like ours,” says the 84-year-old country star. “I thought it was a mistake, but it turned out to be a blessing. Without the mechanical bull, we never would have gotten that film with John Travolta.”

Every night there was a line for the mechanical bull. Demand was so high they installed a second bull and briefly considered buying the rights to the device in order to market it to honky-tonks around the country. Those would-be cowboys — called Gilleyrats after their favorite gathering spot — would compete to see who could stay on the bucking bull the longest, and that contest became the centerpiece of James Bridges’ 1980 film Urban Cowboy, featuring John Travolta in his follow-up to Saturday Night Fever. Exchanging the New York City discos for this dusty, Lone Star honky-tonk, he stars as Bud Davis, a small-town kid who moves to the big city and becomes a master of the mechanical bull.

The film culminates in a showdown with his nemesis, played by Scott Glenn, over the affections of a scene-stealing Debra Winger. As drama goes, this test of saddle skill is anticlimactic, as there is nothing at stake beyond macho pride. Bud isn’t fighting to escape his life (as his character in Fever did) nor to stay at Gilley’s. He’s just fighting. Though never quite satisfying as drama, Urban Cowboy is still fascinating 40 years later as a documentary about Gilley’s and the particular culture that grew up around it.

Gilley and his business partner, Sherwood Cryer, opened the place in 1970. At the time Gilley was only a regional star, with his own TV show in Houston and enough name recognition to open a club. (Being cousins with both Jerry Lee Lewis and Jimmy Swaggart didn’t hurt, either.) In 1974 he had a surprise hit with “Room Full of Roses,” which only brought more attention to his honky-tonk. He played there regularly and invited friends to fill in for him when he was on the road. The place grew into something like a theme park, with a dance floor roughly the size of a football field, several bars, tons of games, even a rodeo arena. “This place is bigger than my whole hometown,” Travolta’s character says when he first steps foot in the place.

Urban Cowboy captures the energy of Gilley’s Club in frenetic long takes that put you right at the bar or out on the dance floor. You can almost smell the sawdust and beer. Gilley even performs during a couple of scenes, as does Charlie Daniels, and the shots of couples shuffling across the floor in tight, fluid choreography are among the film’s highlights.

By the time a suspicious fire destroyed Gilley’s in 1990, the place and the film had already left a deep impression in popular culture. It introduced western wear as high fashion: tight jeans and big hats worn by guys who never rode the range (or a bull, for that matter), but still bought into the mythos of the American cowboy. And its soundtrack, featuring Bonnie Raitt, Boz Scaggs, and Kenny Rogers, peaked at No. 3 on the Billboard Hot 100 and produced chart-topping country singles such as “Lookin’ for Love” by Johnny Lee, “Could I Have This Dance” by Anne Murray, and “Stand by Me” by Gilley himself.

For our latest Roots on Screen column, we chatted with the club’s namesake about accidentally recording a hit single, flying with Travolta, and assaulting the sausage king.

BGS: How did you get to a point where you could open a massive honky-tonk with your name on it?

Gilley: I grew up in Louisiana and got two famous cousins, Jerry Lee Lewis and Rev. Jimmy Swaggart. Jerry Lee was my hero, because without him I probably wouldn’t have gotten in the music business. He came to Houston in ’57 and I saw how well he was doing. I was working construction making $1.25 an hour and that’s when I threw my hat in the ring. Seventeen years later I cut “Room Full of Roses” by mistake and it turned out to be my first No. 1 song. After that I got to tour with Conway and Loretta and next thing I knew John Travolta came knocking on my door. Everything broke loose.

How does somebody cut a hit single by accident?

I had a little TV show in the Houston market. One night I walked into Gilley’s and the lady who had the jukebox called me over and says, “Today on your TV show you did my favorite song, ‘She Called Me Baby All Night Long.’” It’s a Harlan Howard tune. She told me she’s in the jukebox business and if I would record that song, she’d put it on every one of her jukeboxes. I said, “Ma’am, I ain’t made a record in probably three years. The show is doing well. The club is doing well. I don’t really make records anymore.” She said, “Just make that one song for me.”

Well, as you know, back then they had 45s and you had to have an A side and a B side. I went in to cut “She Called Me Baby All Night Long” and for the flip side, I picked “Room Full of Roses.” It’s an old George Morgan song from the late ‘40s or early ‘50s. Lorrie Morgan’s father. I started the arpeggio on the piano and got maybe 30 seconds into it and then stopped. My bass guitar player looked over and said, “What’d you quit for?” I told him it sounded too much like Jerry Lee. And he says, “Who cares? Nobody’s going to hear it. It’s a B side!” So I recorded it. Didn’t think anything about it.

I took the record around to radio stations where we were buying time to advertise the club — “Gilley’s! 4500 Spencer Highway! Pasadena, Texas!” — and I asked if they would play the record when they did the spot on the club. I remember Bruce Nelson at WKNR asked me which side I wanted him to play. I said, “Either side you want. Doesn’t matter to me.” He looked at both sides and said, “I think I like that flower song.” He played it and it shot up the charts. Playboy Records picked it up and took it national for me in 1974.

What was a typical night like at Gilley’s during its heyday?

After the film Urban Cowboy came out, it was packed every night. I never seen anything like it in my life. It went on for about three and a half years. It was totally jam-packed, seven nights a week. People wanted to be a part of what it was all about. They just came out to have a good time. We had a lot of things in the club you could do, too. We had the two mechanical bulls, plus we had quite a few pool tables spread out through the club. Pinball. Punching bags… you know, things of that nature that people would get a kick out of.

How many stages did you have?

We had just the one big stage for music. Of course, my business partner built a rodeo arena back in ’85 or ’86 and hitched it onto the club, because he wanted to stay ahead of Billy Bob’s down in Fort Worth. The concerts we had in there worked out pretty good, because we had Willie Nelson, Waylon Jennings, George Jones, George Strait. People like that do real good in a rodeo arena, but other than that, it was just a big building that we didn’t need.

How often were you playing the regular stage?

I worked the club up until 1985. But I got into a squabble with him about the way the club was running and what was going on, and we got in a lawsuit. I got the club closed down, I got my name off of it, and later it was set on fire and burned. It was arson, but I don’t know who did it, you know? It went up in flames and no more Gilley’s in Pasadena, Texas. But we have a Gilley’s in Treasure Island in Vegas. We have two in Oklahoma and one in Dallas.

What do you remember about filming at Gilley’s?

The main thing I remember was that we had to do it during the day, daylight hours, because we operated the club at night as the regular nightclub. They closed all the doors and tried to make it as dark as they could. I remember the director hollering, “More smoke! More smoke!” to make it look more like a night at the club. They’d start early in the morning and go all day, shooting the parts they had to have. I never had been in a film of that caliber before, so it was different for me. But it was fun.

Was the Urban Cowboy Band something you put together especially for the film?

We had a band there that was playing the club, but I took them on the road with me and renamed them the Urban Cowboy Band when the film came out. Paramount Pictures told me it was OK to use it, so that’s what we did. We were awarded a Grammy for the song “Orange Blossom Special,” which I played piano on. But there were some great songs in the film. “Hello Texas” was written by a Texas guy by the name of Brian Collins and sung by Jimmy Buffett. That’s a great song. We also had Charlie Daniels doing “The Devil Went Down to Georgia” in the film.

Your version of “Stand by Me” was a big hit as well.

It was originally recorded by Ben E. King and written by Leiber and Stoller. The song was brought in by the producer, who was wanting to do what he called a “grudge dance” in the film. They picked “Stand by Me” and asked me to do the song. I was a little reluctant but the arrangement they put on it made it a different song than the Ben E. King version. When we got the song recorded, people were raving about it, and it turned out to be a hit. Now I close my shows with it.

What was it like having someone like John Travolta in your club every day? What was he like to work with?

Well, the one thing that John and I had in common was we both loved aviation. At the time, he was working on his pilot’s license, and I got to fly with him. I was so excited about the fact that I was getting to fly with the star of Urban Cowboy. He had just come off of Saturday Night Fever and Grease, so I’m in awe. I’m just an old country boy that’s had quite a few No. 1 songs, but I never had the popularity John Travolta had. He was working on his pilot’s license at the time, so I went up with him a few times. He went on to fly the big jets, which I’m sure is exciting for him. I never got that far in my career. I got to fly some jets, but they were like the LearJet and the Citation — nothing like the 747 he was flying.

How did the success of that movie and the soundtrack change your career?

It changed my life, because the record company put me with a different producer and he started picking songs like “You Don’t Know Me,” “That’s All That Matters to Me,” “Headache Tomorrow (Heartache Tonight),” and “Put Your Dreams Away.” They were all hits for me and opened more doors for me, as far as casino dates in Reno, Vegas, and Atlantic City. I wasn’t just known as a honky-tonk piano player anymore. I was known as a country performer and it gave me a little more clout. I got to play for two presidents. They gave me a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, invited me to come to Hollywood and do some acting roles, and I did The Fall Guy, Fantasy Island, The Dukes of Hazzard, and Murder, She Wrote. I had a scene in Murder, She Wrote where I grab Jimmy Dean, the sausage king! I grab him by the collar and shake him. Sometimes I show that clip in my show and say, “Look at that! I’m trying to shake the sausage out of Jimmy Dean!”

You’re still playing a lot of those songs from Urban Cowboy on tour, right?

Johnny Lee and I have done well by doing the music from that soundtrack and we called it the Urban Cowboy Reunion Tour. I wish we could have gotten more people involved, maybe Charlie Daniels or Bonnie Raitt. But we did pretty good just the two of us. I remember playing a casino down in Louisiana, and at the end of the show I looked at Johnny and said, “Do you realize those people out there dancing wasn’t even born when we did the film?” I think they come out here to see if we’re still alive!


Photo credit: Courtesy of 117 Entertainment

By Defending Her Own Happiness, Joy Oladokun’s Determination Pays Off

It was far from a given that Joy Oladokun would settle on her present path as a singer-songwriter of pensive folk-pop. She absorbed an array of musical models earlier in life — those that culturally linked her family to their Nigerian roots; reflected the rural pride of her peers in agriculture-rich Arizona; united her evangelical congregation in upward-aimed worship; and offered various styles of self-expression, emotional catharsis or social critique.

But on her texturally varied second album, in defense of my own happiness (vol. 1), much of which she self-produced, she sketches the distance between where she stands, sorting out her sources of pain, anxiety, and pleasure, and what she’s chosen to leave behind. Throughout, she’s exploring knotty interiority with warm yet watchful vulnerability. Oladokun paused her daily songwriting schedule to talk with BGS about how she made her way here.

BGS: After your parents immigrated to the U.S., did they maintain an attachment to traditional or contemporary Nigerian music and share it with you?

My parents came here in the ‘80s, so the Nigerian music they listened to growing up is definitely still a part of their everyday life today. I think one of my first introductions to the guitar was this Nigerian artist named King Sunny Adé, just these crazy, cascading, arpeggiated guitar riffs. They’re not as in touch with contemporary Nigerian music, but Nigeria had a pretty rich and interesting musical history.

You’ve said in past interviews that you grew up in an Arizona farming town that prized folk and country music. What role did that music actually play in community life?

There is not a music scene to speak of in Casa Grande, Arizona, that is for sure. My high school was big into Future Farmers of America. Lots of big trucks and dairy farms, that vibe is the vibe of my town. Some of the country I wasn’t very interested in, but I had a short fascination with ‘90s country. I mean, Martina McBride, Alan Jackson, Brooks & Dunn, it’s a lot, but in a good way. Everyone around me was listening to ‘90s country.

And my dad, for some reason, has an affinity for country-gospel music. He has all these records of Johnny Cash or Charley Pride, all these different people singing old country-gospel standards. So there’s this dusty, Southwestern country sound that I also grew up around that I think is the country that I gravitate to now, more than the big trucks and farms.

Along with hearing King Sunny Adé’s playing, you’ve said that seeing concert footage of Tracy Chapman with acoustic guitar in hand really caught your attention. What was it about those moments that moved you to pick up the instrument yourself?

I was always a really shy and reserved kid, and pretty smart, but had a hard time focusing or applying myself for long amounts of time. I think what I found in myself when I saw the guitar and decided to learn, and what my family saw in me, was a determination that hadn’t been applied to anything else ever.

I just know that the gift of self-expression that it’s given me has been pretty lifesaving. King Sunny Adé and Tracy Chapman, those are two very different expressions of how to use the guitar and how to make music, but they both took the inner workings of themselves and the world around them, and they expressed it through the music they made. I think that’s pretty dope and especially appealing to a kid who has a hard time talking.

Since you were so shy, how did you wind up playing music in front of a congregation?

If you wanted to get me to do anything as a kid, convince me that it would make God happy, or if I didn’t do it, God would be upset. That’s a pretty good motivator to any kid, but especially for me. I think I was so driven because I was so enmeshed in Christian culture. I was driven by this narrative of, “You need to do something big with your life and you can’t just spectate. You have to participate.” I honestly think had I been a little atheist in middle school, or had language been different, I maybe wouldn’t have ever done it or stepped on a stage. But I think it was the, “I feel this duty to use my gift for something bigger than myself.”

What did it take for you to leave behind what you thought might be a lasting career path in praise & worship music?

I often laugh at how much my adult life parallels my mother’s. Growing up, she would always tell this story about how her dad really wanted her to be a teacher. She spent a year or so teaching school and freaking hated it. So she became a nurse and she still does that to this day. I think I honored the thing that is spiritual in myself by working at a church and by falling in line and doing the thing for as long as I did. When I realized, “OK, I’m queer. There’s no getting around that. And I maybe don’t believe these things politically or theologically that I sometimes said on a day-to-day basis.”

I just got to a place where it became more important for me to live a life of integrity on all fronts than to keep up appearances or do what I thought God or my parents or my old boss wanted me to do. When I left, I made the decision pretty much on my own. And in circles like that, that is a no-no. I think the reason I did step into it by myself, though, is because I have to live this life. I would rather pursue something that feels more authentic to me. And once that decision was made, then the career decision was easy. I honestly tie it back to hearing my mom every day since I was born tell the story of how she made that decision for herself.

These days you’re signed to the Nashville office of a publishing company, operating in a world with its own customs and practices when it comes to being creative and collaborative. How’d you adjust to things like co-writing?

I honestly don’t think the worlds are that different, or maybe just people are the same. I do write a considerable amount by myself, so co-writing was maybe the biggest leap that I’ve made into discomfort. To me, even if I have a bad session, there is something that can be learned or gleaned or laughed about from it. If someone has a bad ego during a write it’s, “OK, I’m not going to work with that person again.”

You chose a loaded title for this album, in defense of my own happiness (vol. 1). What were you getting at?

Every time I post something on Instagram or Twitter or Facebook that someone from my past dislikes, I hear about it. I didn’t realize that that was a strange practice until I was talking to my girlfriend. She was like, “That’s so bizarre that people you worked with five years ago still feel the need to tell you that they’re disappointed in you, or say that they’re praying that you’ll become straight again one day.”

It is the source of a lot of my anxiety, to be honest. I don’t regret anything that I am or anything that I’m doing, but there’s this part of me that wants to defend that who I am is good. So many of the songs we ended up picking for the album speak to that. I think the idea of in defense of my own happiness is, it’s maybe an open letter to all these people.

Also it’s a letter to myself saying, “You deserve this life. You deserve to have a girlfriend who loves you and live in a beautiful house, and you deserve to be working a job that you enjoy. You’ve made mistakes, but none of that disqualifies you from what you found.” The album is literally just, “Please let me live.”

As much as I hear you insisting on your right to happiness on the album, I can also hear you sitting with your melancholy, and not hurrying past it.

I don’t know that there’s any other way to actually be happy or healthy without acknowledging how you’ve been hurt in the past, who you’ve hurt in the past, acknowledging the things that you don’t understand or the things that scare you, and sitting with them. I’ve been doing a lot of meditation, because it’s 2020 and the world’s on fire. I was reading a quote about how emotions and our thoughts, we should entertain them as friends, as opposed to treating them as these things that we can’t control. I do feel like melancholy is like a friend that I entertained on this record.

That definitely applies to your song “Who Do I Turn To?” Tell me about the choice you made to phrase the chorus as one long, uncomfortable, unresolved question.

I credit the open-endedness of it to Natalie Hemby, who I wrote the song with. I am a big fan of open-ended things, but I think I wanted an answer. I wanted to write a protest song. I think Natalie could see in my face just the heaviness and the sadness. I was, like, four months old when the LA riots happened, and the fact that we’re still marching for the same thing in 2020 is so bizarre. It’s so heartbreaking. Black people have been showing up for themselves from the beginning of time, countless Civil Rights leaders and movements.

Even to this day, you can point to people like Angela Davis that are alive and doing the work. But we are a minority group, so we cannot be the only people doing the work to protect and honor our lives, especially in this climate. It became open-ended because it’s like, “You keep saying that it’s not your fault, but you let your grandpa make racist remarks while I’m at dinner.” There’s all these little actions and behaviors that play into it. Leaving it open-ended just allows people to think and reflect.


Photo credit: Shannon Beveridge

WATCH: Logan Ledger, “Starlight”

Artist: Logan Ledger
Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee (by way of San Francisco)
Song: “Starlight”
Album: Logan Ledger
Release Date: May 3, 2020
Label: Rounder Records

In Their Words: “I was very fortunate to work with Joshua Shoemaker on the video for ‘Starlight.’ He’s a fantastic director. He conjured up the shadow world of sleepless nights and broken dreams. We shot it on the banks of the Cumberland River as the sun sank beneath the trees. It was a beautiful time.” — Logan Ledger


Photo credit: Bella Mazzola

LISTEN: Kenny Roby, “Silver Moon (For Neal)”

Artist: Kenny Roby
Hometown: Raleigh, North Carolina
Song: “Silver Moon (For Neal)”
Album: The Reservoir
Release Date: August 7, 2020
Label: Royal Potato Family

In Their Words: “I had the idea for this song the night after the memorial show for my friend Neal Casal at The Capitol Theatre in Port Chester, New York, in September of last year. Dave Schools, who was taking the helm as producer for The Reservoir in Neal’s place, and I were standing outside the venue with other friends and performers, and he said, ‘Look at that moon!’ It was a giant bright silver crescent. We all just stood there and gawked at it. A beautiful sight at the end of a beautiful but heartbreaking night. Late the next night in the hotel I thought of the idea for the chorus. And the following morning as Dave and I stood waiting for a taxi to take us back to the city, I had the idea for the first verse. It was about the gathering in tribute to our friend and us singing the old gospel song ‘Farther Along’ together for the encore.

“Six days later I came back from South Carolina to New York to sort of pick up the pieces and start recording the new record. Before heading up to Woodstock, I was walking around New York City alone early one morning and thinking about Neal and other friends when the idea for the second verse came to me. I went back to our friend Gary’s apartment where Neal’s 1952 Gibson SJ-45 was. I quickly scribbled the new lyrics down and grabbed Neal’s guitar and made a demo of the song to send to Dave and Gary. Oddly enough I also finished the verses to ‘I’m Gonna Love Again’ that morning, which I had started the day before, and demoed it on Neal’s guitar. So the only two songs that I wrote after Neal’s death were written in the same week, finished on the same morning, and demoed on his guitar.” — Kenny Roby


Photo credit: Gary Waldman