Here at The Bluegrass Situation, we’re always eager to hear a new song. This year it’s likely that thousands of them drifted by, each with their own charms. Yet, rather than ranking our favorites, we decided simply to pick tunes that reached out and grabbed our attention in 2019 — listed here in alphabetical order. Take a look.
Brad Armstrong, “Carry Your Head High”
Formerly of the great Alabama art-folk outfit 13ghosts and more recently a member of the impossible-to-kill Dexateens, this Birmingham singer-songwriter has in the last few years emerged as a solo artist who can bend old musical forms into brand new shapes. “Carry Your Head High,” off his second album, I Got No Place Remembers Me, may be his most stunning composition yet, a churchly acoustic hymn of self-reckoning and survival that builds to a weird, intensely ecstatic climax. It’s the sound of a man shaking loose every last burden. – Stephen Deusner
Bedouine, “Echo Park”
Carrying on a long legacy of Eastside LA troubadours, Bedouine’s standout track from her brilliant sophomore album captures the essence of lackadaisical days in the Southern California sunshine by Echo Park Lake. On repeat all year long. – Amy Reitnouer Jacobs
Dale Ann Bradley, “The Hard Way Every Time”
An exquisite singer, Dale Ann Bradley has put her stamp on countless cover songs, but there’s something special about the way she interprets this 1973 gem written and recorded by Jim Croce. More than just singing it, she inhabits it. The poignant lyrics allude to lessons learned and dreams broken, but also the insistence that the narrator wouldn’t have done it any other way. Through Dale Ann’s perspective, it’s presented as a blend of nostalgia and fortitude, delivered by one of bluegrass’ most believable vocalists. Musical support from Tina Adair, Tim Dishman, Jody King, and Scott Vestal round out the good vibes. – Craig Shelburne
Tyler Childers, “All Your’n”
It was a banner year for Tyler Childers, whose seemingly endless run of sold-out tour dates gave way to a staggering sophomore album, Country Squire, that took his snarly Appalachian drawl and quick-witted lyrics to the top of the Americana charts (and to college football fans everywhere). From the sweeping piano at the outset to the final wail of affection, “All Your’n” elevates van-tour vernacular to a kind of love language — “loading in, and breaking down / my road dog, door-deal dreams” — with a grin of a chorus that conveys a confident, just-gets-better-with-time kind of intimacy, miles between be damned. – Dacey Orr Sivewright
Charley Crockett, “The Valley”
A life story set to music, “The Valley” recounts the bumps along the way for this Texas musician, who somehow overcame the obstacles — from tough family situations to open-heart surgery — to create an exceptional album of the same name. Echoing his own experiences, the instrumentation on “The Valley” is a pendulum of highs and lows, yet sits squarely in classic country territory, thanks to Crockett’s magnetic voice and the through line of superb steel guitar. – Craig Shelburne
Maya de Vitry, “How Do I Get to the Morning”
This earworm caught me after seeing Maya de Vitry at The Basement in Nashville a few months before the release of her album, Adaptations. If you’re not familiar, The Basement is essentially that – a small club below the former location of Grimey’s Records. It’s dark, intimate, and sports a max capacity of about 50, but de Vitry lit the place up with this one. It’s funky, soulful, positive, and it’s bound to leave you humming the chorus for weeks after your first listen. – Carter Shilts
J.S. Ondara, “American Dream”
A kid from Kenya, obsessed with Bob Dylan, wings his way to Minneapolis, starts playing music and, a few years later, has a deal with Verve Records and an acclaimed, highly affecting debut album. American Dream, indeed. But his song of that title is full of unsettling images — guns, beasts, ghosts — the darkness at once belied and deepened by his sweet, accented voice and lilting jazz-folk settings, echoing Van Morrison as much as the Bard of Hibbing. If you see him perform or talk with him (read our BGS feature from February), though, his hope and optimism beam through. – Steve Hochman
Our Native Daughters, “Black Myself”
Though watching a majority-white audience gleefully shout along to this righteously vengeful, imposing, empowered anthem by Amythyst Kiah might justifiably raise an eyebrow or two, this phenomenon is a testament to those Black musicians and creators who lead the way in actively un-writing myths that claim Black experiences and Black stories — especially those of Black women — are not relatable to the mainstream and its consumers. Recorded with Rhiannon Giddens, Allison Russell, and Leyla McCalla on Songs of Our Native Daughters, this track demonstrates that talking about our shared history, telling our truths without censorship or defensive reflexes, is key to moving forward with healing and intention. And just a dash of raisin’ hell, too. – Justin Hiltner
Tanya Tucker, “Wheels of Laredo”
For an album with a largely decentralized creative process — Tucker herself has been quoted in numerous interviews describing having to warm up to the songs, the recordings, and the entire project — While I’m Livin’ is a perfect distillation of the persona, the vim and vigor, and the pure X-factor that makes Tanya Tanya. (Read our Artist of the Month feature from August.) “The Wheels of Laredo,” written by Brandi Carlile and Tim and Phil Hanseroth, remarkably sounds as if it’s been plucked directly from the subconscious and lived experiences of Tucker herself. A haunting refrain, “If I was a White-crowned Sparrow…” reminds us that the human barriers by which we allow ourselves to be thwarted are just that. Human. No one stops a sparrow at the border of a not-so-distant land. – Justin Hiltner
Yola, “Faraway Look”
You know an album is special when a deluxe edition is released in the same year of its debut. Yola’s Walk Through Fire is just that kind of record. (Read our interview.) The opening track, “Faraway Look,” sets up the album with a soaring chorus and vintage vibe, paving the way for what’s to come. And with four Grammy nominations, including Best New Artist, it’s sure to continue its relevance well into 2020. — Chris Jacobs
Artist:Yola Hometown: Bristol, England Song: “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road” Album:Walk Through Fire: Deluxe Edition (Featuring “I Don’t Wanna Lie” and “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road”)
In Their Words: “Can’t believe it has only been a year since we announced Walk Through Fire, working with Dan Auerbach and the team has been an absolute dream and [I am] so proud of everything we have achieved. So many great songs from that session didn’t make the final cut, including ‘I Don’t Wanna Lie.’ I’m a HUGE Elton fan and we’ve been playing ‘Goodbye Yellow Brick Road’ on the tour and wanted to cut a version for this release, which Dan also produced! And then for Elton to personally premiere it, well that is the icing on the cake!” — Yola
After a dozen years of success, Dailey & Vincent are currently in a period of transition. Building on the popularity of The Dailey & Vincent TV Show on RFD-TV, their next album will be the first straight-up country record they’ve ever done – following up last year’s holiday album, The Sounds of Christmas, which provides the playlist for The Joys of Christmas Tour happening now through December 15.
In the second portion of our interview with BGS Artist of the Month, Dailey & Vincent, we catch up with Darrin Vincent.
BGS: How does the musical division of labor work with you two?
Vincent: We collaborate together on pretty much everything, looking for songs and arranging and producing. But this country album, I don’t think we’ll do that the same because we’ll have an outside producer [Kyle Lehning] for the first time. It will be different to be just artists this time, throwing ideas over to him. It’s exciting and also scary to let go of complete control, and it will be interesting to see how this goes, to let someone else drive the bus.
We prayed on it, that we’d be led to the right person who has the same vision, and it seems like he does. You have to have faith and move on it. If it does not do well, OK, we’ll go back to what we did before. For now, it’s kind of fun to not have quite so much to deal with because we’ve got plenty on our plate with the TV show.
How close are you and Jamie offstage?
We live too far apart to really hang out, but I love him like a brother. Yes, we’re business partners, but if either of us is hurt or needs prayer, we’re there. Both of us know that if either of us needs anything, night or day, just call. We’re very close, but we also have to have space away from each other just like any other family. He’s a good man and I love what he stands for, even if we don’t see eye-to-eye 100 percent of the time.
Before Dailey & Vincent, you played in Ricky Skaggs’ band. What did you learn from him about running your own band?
Quite a lot about what to do, and also what not to do. But a lot more about good things to do, like rehearse in a nice facility, go first class, don’t cut corners. It drove home the importance of creating records that will last. When you’re recording, do it right the first time and not because you want to be friendly with someone or promised something to this or that person.
We’ve all been there before, cutting corners because you don’t have the money or getting some friend to play on something even though they might not be as good as Stuart Duncan and you don’t want to hurt anybody’s feelings. But you have to do what you feel the song needs and don’t back off, whatever other people think. Keep the integrity of music to the highest possible standard because once you put it on a CD, it’s forever and never goes away. Get whoever best fits the song.
Do you ever miss just being a hired hand?
Oh yeah. I’d show up, do my part and go home. Today, we’ve got 20-some people who rely on everything we do. It’s as simple as eating healthy, because these people all rely on our incomes to pay the bills, their mortgages, support their families. It’s a lot of responsibility and it takes a toll.
Whenever we have to fire a musician or a bus driver, it really bothers me. I’m emotional anyway, but I’ll cry about it when it happens, worry about people. It crushes my soul and we both take it to heart. Being an owner, there’s always a family tree behind it all where a ton of people are relying on your health and business to make sure we’ve all got jobs. There’s so much to it. Playing onstage is the fun part.
What do you think of the state of bluegrass nowadays?
It seems that bands like the Infamous Stringdusters and Old Crow Medicine Show are more popular and lucrative than the genre and structure of the basic bluegrass festival. A lot of the older folks are dying off, unfortunately, along with the festivals with the camping and the jamming and all the things that go with it.
I think the five-piece bluegrass band will survive, but the bluegrass scene seems to be getting smaller and smaller. As a promoter of our festivals and cruises, I see acts with very high standards that do a great job performing bluegrass. I also see acts with bigger egos than they need to have, which is just bad, gives a black eye to the whole bluegrass scene. I’m just talking for me, what I see.
Is it hard to find time to practice, play and write music?
Unfortunately the business side keeps me really busy. But at home, I do have the guitar out all the time. It’s by the bed and I take it into the mobile office where I do business stuff. I have to play every day just to keep the motor skills going. I love to hear different things out of the guitar. I get depressed, get happy, and music soothes my soul. So does prayer, of course. I enjoy playing. Not just trying to get better for the show but it’s something that satisfies me and what I need that time of my day.
What are some artists you like that might surprise people?
I love Michael Bublé, Harry Connick, Chicago. I think Metallica is amazing. Now I’ve never heard them sing a gospel song and they’ll have some things to deal with at the end times of their lives. But they’ve got great harmonies, triple guitars and the musicianship is incredible. Iron Maiden is another, even though they have “666” painted on their 747 and I don’t like their lyrics. But they’re very talented people.
There’s even this group from Russia that’s as devil-worshiping as you can get, but they have a unique sound. I can’t even say their name, but the art value and production of their show is amazing. I’m not trying to give the devil any credit, but I like lots of music for the art value.
It’s a common bond through musicians, taking the stage and communicating with people. I love to watch different artists no matter the genre, how they’re communicating whether they’re kids or older. Mike Snider has just incredible communication with the audience. I sit and cry watching him, it’s so funny, but so simple. The knack and ability to do that is amazing and not everybody can. Jamie’s great at it, too. A lot of bands have no charisma whatsoever. They play great and sing OK, but there’s no charisma for the audience and it just dies. There’s an art to that.
Which of your many awards are you most proud of?
By far, becoming a member of the Grand Ole Opry. I’ve been blessed to win five Grammys, which were enormous milestones in my life. They were the biggest thing I’d done, until the Opry. It’s very nice out at Opryland, which is cool with a lot of history. But the ultimate is going back to the Ryman and memories of Ernest Tubb, Patsy Cline, Hank Williams, standing in the same place Elvis Presley stood. Just the history of all the people who walked through there and paved the road to where country is today, that’s overwhelming and humbling.
Dailey & Vincent, the Nashville-based band led by Jamie Dailey and Darrin Vincent, is among the most honored acts in all of bluegrass. They’ve won multiple IBMA and SPBGMA Awards, had all nine of their records crack Top 10 on Billboard‘s bluegrass albums chart and, since 2016, they’ve been full-fledged members of the Grand Ole Opry.
Their newest release is 2018’s The Sounds of Christmas, which they’ll be supporting on tour this month. As our December Artist of the Month, BGS caught up with each frontman separately before they hit the road, starting with Jamie Dailey.
BGS: Where do you think The Sounds of Christmas ranks in your catalog?
Dailey: Well, it was something seeing it between Michael Bublé and Pentatonix in the Top 10 of the holiday chart, and it stayed up there for several weeks. It really is just about my favorite of all the records we’ve ever done – just the quality of the vocals. It’s bragging, I guess, but it’s the best-sounding vocals we’ve ever recorded, for sure.
I am of course a lover of Christmas music, and also Christmas. I grew up in a very modest family that couldn’t afford a lot, but we always put up a tree and had Christmas lights all over the property. Mom still cooks a big traditional American family Christmas meal. You’d think my mom would be used to it by now, but I like to sneak into her kitchen, highjack her laptop and put something crazy on Facebook. That’s always fun. One time a couple of Christmases ago, her preacher was calling within 10 minutes to ask if she was OK. I could hear her: “WHAT?! Jamie, I am gonna KILL you!”
It’s time for another record, what’s the story on the next one?
We just signed our first country music deal, with BMG, to do a country album. We’ve never done one so we’re very excited about that. We’ve said from day one that we never wanted to be boxed in and we wanted to write and play and sing and record whatever we wanted. We’re working with Keith Stegall, who has produced Zac Brown, Alan Jackson, and a whole bunch of others. We just signed a new TV deal, too, to do a more mainstream TV show than what’s been on RFD all these years.
Out of all the awards you’ve won, which one means the most to you?
Hands down for both of us, joining the first family of country music in the Grand Ole Opry. It’s only 200-some members and 84 of us still living, so it’s very special to be part of that family. We work the Opry six to nine times a month between tour dates, which makes us busy, but we’re happy to be there. It’s always a joy. Hard to explain the feeling you get when you’re there.
Before Dailey & Vincent, you spent almost a decade in Doyle Lawson’s band. What’s the most valuable thing you learned from him?
How to be a constant road professional, and how to be more consistent onstage and not just listen to yourself, but to your fellow bandmates to make up a well-oiled unit. He’s a good man. The lessons were priceless. And if you’ve ever led a group, you also learn things you don’t want to do. As leaders, we all run across those times when you’re trying something that doesn’t work.
You did the IBMA keynote speech last year, on “Branding Bluegrass.” What do you think that is?
We live in the most interdependent age in history. Everyone has the ability to reach more people than ever before. We all have to figure out ways to become more involved. I’d tell young musicians to stay absolutely focused and follow your heart. Record labels and managers are right about a lot, but not always about everything. So don’t allow yourself to be led down a road you don’t want to be on. Be persistent and aware, and learn as much as you can to stay up with what’s going on.
The Dailey & Vincent brand is bigger than just bluegrass, which we make no bones about. We’re gospel and country as well as bluegrass, and we’re happy to do all of that. You can tell from the TV show and the Opry, we’ve tried to diversify our craft to get into buildings we would and could not have before. We’ve been blessed to perform at Carnegie Hall three years in a row, which would not have happened if we were doing only bluegrass.
What do you tell people who want to go into the music business?
The business is changing constantly, so you have to stay on top of that. Living in this interdependent world, it’s like there are a lot more nets than walls and you can reach a lot more people. We’re artists, so let’s make music, let those who like it find it and cater to them.
Some years ago, a lot of bluegrass festivals were kind of stagnating without a lot of growth. So we decided to pull back and go into more venues on our own to draw our own crowds and grow that way rather than getting beat over the head for not fitting some narrow mold. We did not want to be in that box, so that’s some of the changes we’ve made the last eight years — out of 12 going on 13. That’s what we’ve done and why we’ve done it, and it’s had tremendous impact on our career and vision.
Who among your peers do you admire and enjoy?
I love Keith Urban, what a good guy and a great musician and singer. Very creative. I love Norah Jones and Adele, too. The music I listen to ranges all over. Sinatra and Tony Bennett, too. I love orchestras and symphonies, and go to [the symphony] in Nashville when I can, and it’s what I listen to when I’m reading. I love going back to Guns N’ Roses and Journey as well as Conway Twitty. It’s a broad list.
You participated in some diplomatic missions to Germany and Switzerland a bit more than a decade ago. How did that happen?
It was terrifying in some aspects, but I learned a lot from my dear friend now passed, U.S. Ambassador Faith Ryan Whittlesey. We met at Yeehaw Junction, a bluegrass festival in Florida, when her daughter took her. I was with Doyle at that time, 23 or 24 years old, and I’d been praying for the Lord to use me to help my country because I regretted not joining the military.
So we do this show and her daughter came up afterward to say she wanted to meet me. Sure. “Hi, Jamie, I’m former Ambassador to Switzerland, on the U.N. Security Council.” My eyes are getting bigger and bigger. “I need you to travel with me to do some diplomatic work. Use your country bumpkin charm, sing a song here and there, and engage with foreign and business leaders.” I almost passed out.
But she called the following Monday morning and I started flying to D.C. and New York every few months to learn table etiquette, receiving-line protocol and things like that. She was stern and very, very formal. But after she saw how stupid I can act, I got to know her enough to break into her humorous side. I started traveling with her to Switzerland and Germany to participate in some things, which was a wonderful experience I’ll cherish the rest of my life.
Do you have any interest in going into politics someday yourself?
At one time, maybe so. But the more I see of what goes on, especially these days, not so much. I believe I can be more effective where I am in my career than in political office, where you have to deal with incoming fire and problems that weigh you down and keep you from doing things. But I can move in and help without having to worry about the politics and trash that goes on now.
I’ve been asked, but no. Maybe later in life, if a president I can believe in strongly wins and I get involved, maybe I’d consider being Ambassador to another country for a few years. But who knows. There’s a lot to it, and a lot can happen. I may end up dying from too much chocolate.
Illustration: Zachary Johnson Photo: Erick Anderson
I met Logan Ledger at Santa’s Pub in Nashville, sometime late in the winter of 2016. It wasn’t long after that I first heard his voice — one I would never forget and can always identify. Part of me would love to tell you to imagine Ray Price dropping acid with The Grateful Dead on a misty San Francisco day, through the lens of a film noir feature. All of me, however, implores you to listen to his music and dream up your own visuals, which is easy to do when listening to his wonderful, burgeoning body of work.
These photographs (I hope) capture a small slice of the magic he and his music hold. We shot these somewhere in Tennessee. — Laura Partain
Logan in ’70s Levi’s “Action Slacks” and vintage zip boots.
Logan with a Madcap vintage mock turtleneck and the Levi’s “Action Slacks” with vintage zip boots, on a bridge “somewhere in Tennessee.”
Logan in a vintage Montgomery Ward suede, fringe jacket and a vintage “Career Club” shirt, circa 1970s.
Logan in a Jefferson turtleneck sweater and a vintage, double-breasted jacket made for the James Davis Store for Men in Memphis, Tennessee.
Logan’s Jefferson turtleneck sweater and vintage, double-breasted jacket from the James Davis Store for Men, in color.
Button and lining detail of Logan’s James Davis Store for Men double-breasted jacket.
Logan in the Jefferson turtleneck sweater, vintage, double-breasted jacket, and vintage slacks, circa 1970s.
Artist Name:B. Knox Hometown: Barrie, Ontario, Canada Song: “The Fault Lies” Album:Heartbreak and Landscape Release Date: Early 2020
In Their Words: “It’s hard to feel any sense of permanence when the seasons are constantly changing. I love the interplay between landscape, weather, and emotion. I think most of what I write reflects that, in one way or another. I tried to lean heavily on barren images and vast amounts of space: the distance between things. Emotions, like the seasons, are things we all experience, but they are also extremely individual. Here in Canada, we have a lot of open space and vastly different seasons. In a way, that’s what both connects and isolates us.” — B. Knox
Dailey & Vincent have ventured well beyond bluegrass by paying respect to musical tradition, singing like siblings (although they aren’t), and delivering their signature goofy one-liners. Year in and year out, they bring an entertainment value to their show, whether it’s on a tour of performing arts centers, starring in their RFD-TV series, or appearing at the Grand Ole Opry.
Although Jamie Dailey and Darrin Vincent came from highly regarded bands before forming their duo, they are now certainly trailblazers in their own right. For example, Dailey delivered an insightful IBMA keynote address in 2018 about branding bluegrass. And they have shown the ropes to a decade’s worth of rising talent.
Coming up later in the week, BGS will post exclusive, one-on-one interviews with both Jamie Dailey and Darrin Vincent, shining a year-end spotlight on their remarkable career. In the meantime, please enjoy our brand new BGS Essentials playlist.
I’ve had the good fortune of knowing Kentuckian country queen-in-waiting Kelsey Waldon for almost the entire time I’ve lived in Nashville — more than eight years at the time of this writing. I’ve stood over her unfathomably enormous cast iron skillet, filled to the brim with bubbling, sizzling battered fish. I’ve sung harmony on one too many choruses of “Smoky Mountain Memories” after perhaps one too many slugs of Kentucky straight bourbon whiskey with her, too.
And yet, in listening to her brand new album, White Noise/White Lines, I still found myself picking up fresh tidbits of her extraordinary yet downright ordinary approach to musicmaking, songwriting, self-expression, and artistic exploration. Waldon, despite limitless comparisons to almost every female country forebear to ever growl through a lyric, remains a paragon unto herself, a true singularity in realms of American roots music.
White Noise/White Lines cements the fact (which has always been plain as day to those who dug deep enough) that Waldon will refuse tidy, one-for-one comparisons to any/all other country stars and writers who have come before her or who count themselves among her contemporaries. Except perhaps two: Loretta Lynn — whose “Coal Miner’s Daughter” inspired Waldon’s own “Kentucky, 1988” — and John Prine. The latter is fitting, in so many ways, now that Waldon makes her label home with Oh Boy Records, label of the denizen of Kentucky songs, meat and threes, and plain spoken oracle-like wisdom through lyrics.
A brief album by many measures, White Noise/White Lines captures technicolor moments of Waldon’s life, her joys, her musings, and her homeplace, encouraging listeners to lean into the record’s brevity and engage wholly with each constituent moment therein. Because truth needs no more than a moment.
For BGS I made the trek out to Waldon’s cabin outside of Nashville and after a quick stroll around the vegetable gardens and a tour of the many Kentucky-themed decor items imported from one state north, we settled in the kitchen, sipping water out of mason jars, to talk.
People routinely refer to you as being similar to Loretta, similar to Tammy Wynette, Kitty Wells, Patsy Cline. People are constantly making these comparisons to these kind of foremothers of country and I wonder how that makes you feel, to be a bookend against someone like Loretta or Tammy Wynette?
Kelsey Waldon: Honestly, I think that’s an incredible compliment. Those are all, you know, my sisters that have gone before me, women that I’ve looked up to quite a bit. Especially in the country music realm. However, I also kind of feel like, especially with this new record, I think it’s apparent that hopefully I’m also finding quite a bit of my own thing.
Sometimes when people say things like that to me it’s like, well maybe their scope of country music isn’t that wide. When someone would be like, “You sound like Patsy Cline!” I’d be like, “Uh, no I don’t.” [Laughs] I mean, I love Patsy Cline and I hold her up as something sacred, I wouldn’t ever even sing Patsy just because nothing touches that.
I think it can kind of be, dare I say, a lazy comparison to just kind of name [some popular woman country star.] It’s definitely there. Even sonically, I was so inspired by them. Especially Loretta, absolutely.
I hope the new record showcases that with the years we’ve spent on the road — just using even my own touring band. It starts at country with me, I can’t just flip off a light switch and say, “Oh, it’s not country!” I guess some people can do that, but I don’t see it that way. Country is just so much embedded in me. No matter what form my artistic expression comes out, that’s still gonna be there. It just may not be cookie cutter, it may not be formulated. It may not even sound exactly like that. One thing that I think the growth of this record shows, hopefully, is that these are my songs, I’m not a throwback artist. I’m not a retro artist. I am an artist making music in 2019.
I did want to talk about your band, I think it’s remarkable. It’s getting more and more rare that folks tour with the folks who played on the record, because — and it’s not the fault of anybody — they’re trying to make money on the road. So if they stack their record, of course they aren’t bringing those people on tour. Why is it a priority for you to have the same band?
There are obviously all of these amazing musicians out there who are session musicians and a lot of people I’ve been fortunate enough to play with myself. I’ve learned a lot from [them]. This time around, this was always a goal of mine, to have a record that had a band I wanted on it. I worked really hard to find the band to really fit those pieces together. It took me a while… just trying to figure out really what I wanted. My last record, I’ve Got A Way, caused the right people to gravitate towards my music. I mean, I eventually found the band that I have now because they heard those earlier records and they were like, “I would love to be a part of this.”
The band I have now, which is Mike Khalil, Nate Felty, and Alec Newnam — and Brett Resnick played on the record, but he doesn’t get to play with us a lot anymore, he plays with Kacey Musgraves, which is wonderful. But with the band I have now I just knew it. I was like, “I think this is it.” We all knew it. Even Brett. People were like, “We think this is the right combination.”
In that way, too, there’s nothing wrong at all with using session players, I just think, honestly — and I might be a little biased — my band is just as good as any. I think they could, and they will be one day, they will be those session players. They care so much about their craft and they work hard. I’m very lucky.
One of the things that excites me most about this record is that I’ve always heard the bluegrass influences in your music, but they’re really forward in this record. Especially in your rhythm playing, in your rhetorical style in your writing, in your vocal phrasing, even in the arrangements with the twin fiddles and there are a couple of “fast waltzes” on the record. I love that “Lived and Let Go” really could be played on bluegrass radio.
I think that is such a huge compliment, thank you.
It’s bluegrass! I wanted to ask, and not just because we’re The Bluegrass Situation, but in general, because this is a huge part of the canon of music you reference and that you listen to. Who in the bluegrass sphere influences you now and who has in the past — and I’m gathering Ola Belle Reed is at least one of them.
I love Ola Belle, obviously, we did an Ola Belle song on the record. Well, I love that you can pick that out. To me, I feel like it’s plain as day that there’s a bluegrass influence all over it. To some people it’s not as apparent, I guess. I’ve had some people just be like, “What is this thing that you’re doing?” It’s because they don’t listen to bluegrass. I’m like, “I STOLE that!” [Laughs]
I guess I understand now why they don’t put those two together, if you’re talking about mainstream country, because that’s clearly not. But to me, I’m always like, “Of course bluegrass is country.” It’s also bluegrass, but it’s also country. It’s like the OG country music.
I would say one of my favorite influences, one of my favorite singers ever, is Dale Ann Bradley. She’s up there for me. I really think Dale Ann should be a legend, honestly. And Ralph Stanley, and obviously I love Bill [Monroe], and Jim & Jesse, and all those groups. And early Keith Whitley, I’ve been obsessed with that for a long time.
I think it’s interesting that you mention both Ralph and Keith back to back like that, because you can hear elements of both of their vocal phrasing and vocal techniques, in what you do singing-wise.
The same thing with Dale Ann. They have such unique registers of their voices and it’s something that I really relate to. Sometimes I didn’t really know what it was that I was doing. I could kind of hear my own voice in [their vocals]. If that makes sense? I could really relate to that. It’s so soulful.
I feel like Keith could sing on anything. [Laughs]He sounded exactly like Keith. That’s the beautiful thing about a country singer to me, he could sing on an R&B track and it would be sexy as hell. It’s like George Jones — and Dolly can sing on anything, as far as I’m concerned. That’s a great singer, to me. Ralph, I’ve always said that he is like the Pop Staples of mountain music. It’s like he doesn’t even have to be loud, but he is so loud. He’s barely singing. He’s just projecting. I love Flatt & Scruggs as well.
New artists… Molly Tuttle, I love what she’s doing. That new record. She’s really taking a genre and making it her own. Something that’s not worn out or tired. Doing something fresh. She has accomplished making this new for people. In my own way, I hope to do that as well.
I don’t guess there’s anybody else completely new, besides like Sister Sadie, and Dale Ann! [Laughs] They are some BAD girls!! Dale Ann, man. The mark of a true artist is that she can sing all of the covers she does. Like I said, I think Dale Ann should be a legend.
Words are clearly your priority in your songwriting. You’re prioritizing what you’re meaning to say first and foremost, then making the melody and music and everything work around what you’re trying to say. It sounds effortless when you listen to it, but I wonder what kind of intention goes into that?
Songwriting is kind of interesting to me in that way. I’ve actually heard a couple people be like, “It sounds effortless.” Sometimes, it is effortless and you’re just like, “Wow that kind of poured out of me. I didn’t realize it was in there but it poured out of me in like five to ten minutes.” With this record, though, there were definitely a couple of things I had to go back to. I had the meat and taters, but there were a couple of things I rewrote and made sure made exactly the sense I wanted them to make. There’s a balance there, too. You don’t want to kind of go too far, over-analyzing the whole thing.
With “Kentucky, 1988,” I think your songwriting up to this point has felt so personal, and so tightly intertwined with who you are, that I almost didn’t realize that you hadn’t written this exact kind of song, yet. What brought you to the point of wanting to be that direct with telling your origin story? Was it more intuitive or more purposeful?
That was definitely purposeful. That is awesome that you’ve observed that, because I’ve felt the exact same way. I was writing new songs and I felt like, “You know, I haven’t written my ‘Coal Miner’s Daughter.’” I don’t really have something that is kind of like this definitive origin story. I just set out to write it. The title was actually kind of inspired by someone I forgot to mention, Larry Sparks — one of my favorite singers.
Oh my gosh!! “Tennessee, 1949!!”
Yeah! Yeah, it was inspired by that. That and a Tom T. Hall song that has Kentucky and a year in the title, with the comma and everything. In my head all of that sounded so cool. Everything about it, the rhythmic feel, it all rolled right off my tongue great. I just had to write it. People always [say], “That’s very vulnerable and transparent.” Well yeah, isn’t that what we’re supposed to do? [Laughs]
I know a lot of artists say this, but I definitely think this is the most personal thing I’ve done so far. I think all of it has been very transparent, in a way. I want to completely embrace that. I want to be as much of a freak as I want to be. It’s not like I was afraid to before, I just don’t think that I was ready. My mom always said I was a late bloomer, but she said, “When you bloom, baby, you’ll bloom!”
I did want to ask you about the significance of the Chickasaw Nation members singing on the record. We hear them at the end of “White Noise, White Lines.” What’s the personal significance of that for you? And are you a tribal member? Is anybody in your family a tribal member?
No. All of the Rollins side of my family, which is my granny’s side, they were all of French and Native American descent, but I never claimed anything like that. I just think it’s been something that’s been such a part of where I grew up, culturally. Even just hunting for points [arrowheads] and having such a respect for that way of life and culture.
It’s always really hard to keep this story short, when people ask me about the song, because I wrote it right after this amazing experience I had back home in Monkey’s Eyebrow, Kentucky, my hometown. When I went back to watch a ceremonial dance that the Chickasaw from Ada, Oklahoma [performed]. They came to re-bless the Wickliffe Mounds. They ended up lodging at my Dad’s that night, for free, [he was] cooking the food, doing the catering and stuff. I ended up staying down there and visiting.
We just became friends with the members of the tribe. We had so much fun. They’ve kept in touch… My dad took them arrowhead hunting for the first time, and they were doing ceremonial dances out on my dad’s land as well. I think he really really was appreciative of that. We were kind of the only people who ever lived down there in those river bottoms, maybe besides [the Chickasaw]. I mean, it’s the river bottoms. That’s why we find all these artifacts. No one has been down there except us.
I just remember thinking about how awesome the weekend had been and the radio had been on white noise for literally fifteen minutes and I had no idea. I was just in this tranquil moment. The song is just a detail of all these things. The solar eclipse had also blown my mind that weekend. Just realizing how small we actually are, compared to what is even going on in this universe.
Naturally, I included the details. “Chickasaw man got a buffalo skin drum,” because Ace — Ace Greenwood and Jesse Lindsey, that’s who’s on the song — actually did have a buffalo skin drum. It was pretty badass. My dad asked them to sing some songs on the porch. I love Ace’s voice, it reminds me of Ralph Stanley. It’s a voice that just feels like it’s been there for a long time. It’s so pure. I just loved it, I was really touched.
He sang a song that had been in his family for generations. The message of the song was basically, “Though I’m far away I’m still near you. No matter where I am. We are together.” In that moment that really was something I needed to hear. I put that [on the record] not only because I thought it was beautiful, and I wanted people to experience what I felt, but I also wanted the record to feel like an experience.
Ace told me one time when we were down there that the media likes to tell his people who they are and that’s not who they are. I think in a way, perhaps it’s also why I thought it would be really beautiful to have that at the end as well. I hope it doesn’t seem like it was for my own reasons, I guess. I was just writing about that weekend and I felt like it was so beautiful to me I wanted it to be documented.
I think it makes a lot of sense. And I’m not saying it’s not a complicated thing to talk about, or that it doesn’t trip into some territory that we as settlers will never fully understand, but I do think that it follows perfectly with you bringing your whole entire self to your music. So much of what you do is tied to place and is tied to coming from Kentucky.
That was another part of it, showcasing where I’m from. And the cultural background of it.
And not just the colonial background of where you’re from?
No. I mean absolutely not. To me, that’s exactly how I saw it. Nail on the head. It might cause a little bit of question, but I think that’s good. ‘Cause then I’ll get asked about it. And then I’ll tell ‘em. [Laughs]
Allison Moorer has always loved words and it shows in her new memoir, Blood. Expressed in a literary voice that’s both erudite and intimate, her writing goes well beyond the devastation of the 1986 incident where her father shot and killed her mother, and then himself. Surveying Blood as a whole, her childhood stories will be familiar to anyone who has grown up without money, who has relied on other family members to help raise them, and who has found an identity through music.
This fall, Moorer has been touring behind the book by presenting on-stage conversations with music-minded moderators, such as her sister Shelby Lynne (they affectionately call each other “Sissy”) and her husband Hayes Carll. During these events she performs music from her new album, also titled Blood. While that project is inspired by her family trauma, it is not a direct re-telling of it. Longtime producer Kenny Greenberg gives it a sonic texture that fits perfectly in a catalog that now spans two decades.
She caught up with the Bluegrass Situation by phone in between her travels.
BGS: I really admire the research you put into this project. You were willing to try to fill in some gaps. One of the passages that I thought was interesting was the email from your father’s friend, Leon, who wrote this line: “I’ve never figured out if Franklin was two people in one body or if he was one person who made a change into someone I did not know.”
AM: Yeah. That’s pretty powerful, isn’t it?
Do you remember the emotions you felt when you read that message from him?
I felt like I had been seen. Because that’s often how I felt about my father. One of the reasons I wrote to Leon in the first place was because very often I had heard about this great guy that my father was. So many people had admiration for him and the person that they described was not who I knew.
He was a teacher at Leroy High School. This was when I was very small but I remember him being the shop teacher, and he taught English. That’s how he was introduced to my mother in the first place, because he was a teacher where my aunt went to high school. He was a juvenile probation officer. His last job was overseeing the vocational school. And so he had an effect on a lot of people.
But at home, what I had in my mind was not matched up with this person that I heard people outside of our house describe. I spent probably too much time trying to reconcile that and what I know about that is we all are many things. Who we are on the outside is not always who we are on the inside, and we can be more than one thing at the time. So I think in some ways I came up with more questions than answers, but sometimes the questions are more important than the answers.
One thing I found interesting is that he seems to have passed on a love of music and a love of literature to you.
Absolutely.
Have you always been in love with words and storytelling?
Yeah. I don’t think that I knew when I was a kid that I was in love with words. I just knew I liked to read and I had an affinity for them. I somehow kind of knew how to read before I went to school. I went to first grade when I was 5 — funny thing about my momma, she decided that I didn’t need kindergarten and she forged my birth certificate and put me in first grade when I was 5.
It probably had something to do with her work schedule because kindergartners had a shorter school day I think. But they found out that, “Oh, well, Allison at age 5 goes in the advanced reading.” [Laughs] That’s a little revealing about who I am. But I definitely found solace in books and in music when I was a kid and still do, still very much do.
Your father was writing music and lyrics even before you and Shelby came along, but I didn’t know the history of “I’m the One to Blame” on your record. I heard the music before I read the book, then found out later that he wrote those lyrics. I was curious, how did the melody come about to that song?
Sissy wrote it. She found that lyric in his old briefcase, not long after they died. We were definitely in the throes of shock and grief, but I love that she was still able to go, “Hmmm, that’s pretty good. I think I’ll put tune to it.” [Laughs] She did, and she did a fantastic job. So that song’s been around all this time, and neither one of us had ever recorded it. I thought this album was a really good way to do that and to share that with the world. It was important to me that be heard and that he could finally get a song out there. I wanted to do that for him.
I think “The Ties that Bind” is one of the most eloquent songs you’ve ever written.
Thank you. I’m proud of that one, too. I think that’s something that every person asks themselves.
What was on your mind when you were writing that? Did you have to go to a certain frame of mind to get that song out?
Wrestling with the question of inheritance is a big deal for me. How do you take the good and not the bad? How do you make sense of where you come from, and from whom you come? And not drag all of the baggage with you? It’s a tough thing and it’s a never-ending question, right? It’s the theme of a lot of psychological exploration and family therapy and individual therapy. It depends on what school you come from, but a lot of things in people can be traced back to how they were raised, and by who raised them.
We inherited these qualities from our parents whether we want them or not. That’s what “All I Wanted” is about as well. It’s about that same thing – I really am sorry that I inherited your ability to argue with a fence post. But I’m really glad that I got, you know, whatever, this thing or the next thing. I think that’s something that we have to work at as people. I’m fascinated by families and by inherited traits.
There’s a passing reference in the book about how you can feel at home by putting books on the hotel nightstand. That struck a real visual with me. As you’ve moved over the years, you carried all your books with you?
Oh my God. You would not believe how much it cost to move those fuckers. Of course I did! And I’m sure you have the same problem. My books are my prized possessions in a way. I’ve got some guitars, I’ve got a kick-ass shoe collection, and my books, and my heirlooms from family and my little things… I don’t hang on to much. I’m not a hoarder of any kind. I like to keep things pretty sparse but it’s really difficult for me to get rid of a book.
You must feel very comfortable in a bookstore then.
I do. My dream job is to be a librarian.
I am curious about the book event that you just did in Mobile. Because so much of this book is set near there, what was it like for you to go back to that part of Alabama and tell the story?
Well, I played Birmingham on Wednesday night and Mobile on Thursday night, so I had family at both of them, and I have to say I was nervous about talking about this book in front of them. I didn’t ask permission from anybody, and I don’t have to, and I know that, but I still understand that some of these memories are painful. I also realize that some of the things that happened to my sister and me when we were kids might’ve still been unknown to some of our family members and our friends.
So, I’m aware of that and there’s part of me that wants to make sure everybody’s OK. But I also know that’s a trap. And taking care of people is not why I wrote this book. My desire to take care of people is not at all why I wrote this. I think that that’s worth mentioning because I think that not talking about these things is part of what perpetuates the cycle.
So I did feel very much that because I had family in the audience both nights, the instinct is to not say it, to not expose the secrets, to keep hiding because it makes everybody feel better. But what I know is that’s exactly the opposite reason of why I wrote this book. So I had to balance that with myself, and I was aware of it, and I just talked myself through it.
What caught me off guard in this book was the passage titled “What Happens When You Hit Your Daughter.” I felt that deeply.
A lot of people are feeling that.
What have people told you about that passage?
I’ve had a couple of people tell me that they’re going to hang it up in their office because they’re therapists. And I am no therapist. [Laughs] Or any sort of professional. I wrote that passage because I had done so much reading and research on the family and cyclical violence and what the effects of abuse are. On an intellectual level, it’s interesting, but on an emotional and personal level, it’s devastating to me. I have seen to varying degrees all of those things I talk about in that passage applied to my sister, I think. So I wrote it for us.
Look, it’s like this. I recognize that this book has done a lot for me in terms of me coming to terms with my childhood and in realizing what the fallout has been on us. It showed me to myself as art does. We reveal ourselves to ourselves through making art. And the wonderful thing about art and the purpose that it serves in the world is it serves as a mirror for other people. The job of the artist is to reflect the world.
And what I’m getting back from the world about this book is that it is encouraging other people to look under their own rocks and to look at themselves and look at where they came from. They want to then tell me their stories, which is a lot to absorb but I’m also honored and I’m happy about that because so much of these sorts of things are made worse by the shame that they put on us, because we’re told not to talk about Daddy’s drinking or Mama’s violence or whatever’s going on at home.
When children are told to deny what they see and hear and feel, they become distrustful of themselves. I have noticed that in myself. Because growing up we were always told, “Don’t say anything about this. Don’t say anything about that.” In essence, “This isn’t happening,” because you have to deny your feelings. I think that’s absolutely the wrong path. So if someone is able to speak their truth because I spoke mine, then it means I did a good thing.
Artist name:Jerry Leger Hometown: Toronto, Ontario Song: “Tomorrow in My Mind” Album:Time Out for Tomorrow Release Date: November 8, 2019 Label: Latent Recordings
In Their Words: “‘Tomorrow in My Mind’ closes the new record, Time Out for Tomorrow. It has a feel and performance that you can only get from playing it live in the studio together, same with the vocals. No tricks, which is the way I like it. I like the playfulness in the lyrics and I love the bridge: ‘Bones are aching, emotions shaking, eyes are waking for love.’ James McKie’s guitar part reminds me something Waylon Jennings would have done. I’m not sure what the song was born out of, I don’t like to over-analyze that. It’s a favourite of producer Michael Timmins’ and the band too. I’m glad it made the cut. I wasn’t sure if it fit at first but it’s a real nice closer to an album that I’m happy folks are getting really into already.” — Jerry Leger
Photo Credit: LPPhotographs
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