LISTEN: Andy Hughes & the Mighty Few, “Friday Nights”

Artist: Andy Hughes & the Mighty Few
Hometown: La Crosse, Wisconsin
Song: “Friday Nights”
Album: Songs for Sunday
Release Date: March 24, 2019
Label: Move Along Music

In Their Words: “‘Friday Nights’ is classic-sounding country. I knew I wanted to write a song like that as I was listening to a lot of George Jones and Johnny Cash at the time. It’s a personal song but also takes some liberties within the verses to make the story relatable and have some mystique to it. As a musician on the road I’ve certainly felt that line, ‘Singing my way home to you…’ and I know my wife has, too. I believe a lot of us have probably been in a bar like that, too. The Mighty Few really throw down on this track!” — Andy Hughes


Photo credit: Dylan Overhouse

Canon Fodder: Mindy Smith, ‘One Moment More’

I didn’t want to hear “Come to Jesus” in 2004. As the first single from Mindy Smith’s debut album, One Moment More, it’s a gentle pop hymn, delivered in the voice of a parent comforting a child. “Oh, my baby, when you’re prayin’,” Smith sings, “leave your burden by my door. You have Jesus standing by your bedside to keep you calm, to keep you safe, away from harm.” With a subdued roots accompaniment, Smith follows that child throughout her life, documenting her changing emotional needs as well as her changing relationship with her beloved parent. Her vocals lack twang, but they have a steadiness that seems to arise from the certainty of her faith that mother and child will be united in the next life. “Here in heaven we will wait for you arrival, here in heaven you will understand.”

Smith was writing from experience. In 1991 her mother died of cancer — a loss so cataclysmic that she and her father found it too painful to live in their small Long Island hometown. So they headed south, and Smith enrolled at Cincinnati Bible College (now Cincinnati Christian University), although she has said that decision was motivated by her desire to connect with some of her mother’s old acquaintances. When she released One Moment More thirteen years after her mother’s death, Smith filled it with songs of loss, recovery, and renewal. On “Raggedy Ann” she compares herself to a childhood doll whose seams are fraying and whose stuffing is coming out. On “Angel Doves” she reassures herself that “God is soaring above a world that is running out of love.” Musically, she melds several traditions and styles, from contemporary country to contemporary Christian, into a sound that never announces its ambitions or lets them interfere with her lyrics.

I didn’t want to hear any of it at the time. In 2004 I was still raw from a similar loss, the death of my father in 2002 after a long battle with brain cancer. I watched as one of the sharpest minds gradually lost his ability to speak or communicate in any way. I watched as one of the most generous hearts I’ve ever known lost his ability to recognize his sons. A church deacon and a small-town lawyer, he died just a few short months before the birth of his first grandchild and namesake, which seemed too cruel for me to comprehend. It shook me to my core, and I struggled to reconcile the God I had heard about in my small-town Southern Baptist church with the God who would strike down a good, humble man like my father. It felt like there was too much chance and chaos in the world for it to be overseen by a loving God, and I admit I grew angry and resentful.

Even two years later, the consolations that Smith sings about in “Come to Jesus” — namely, the promise that we will meet our loved ones in heaven — sounded cheap. I was tired of empty reassurances designed to rush someone through his grief, to dam up those messy emotions so others wouldn’t feel uncomfortable. I was sick of having people clasp my shoulder sympathetically to tell me that everything happens for a reason. The idea that we could not possibly understand anything in this life, that we must wait until the next one to get any satisfactory answers, hit my ears with a vulgar dissonance. Ungenerous to all others in my confusion, I rejected what I thought were easy excuses and nursed my own angers and sadness. It felt righteous, in a peculiar way, and honest.

“Come to Jesus” is fifteen years old in 2019, and I am fifteen years older. Now when I hear the song, I listen with very different ears. I listen as someone whose life and livelihood involve absorbing all kinds of music constantly, which means that I hopefully have a better sense of Smith inhabiting and innovating these different genres. More crucially, I listen as someone who has grown spiritually and emotionally, who has further processed the tragedy of my father’s death, who has shed so much of that anger that once seemed so essential to survival. I can hear Smith’s song not as a litany of spiritual excuses, but as an expression of someone still grieving, still trying to work through the mayhem of grief in the hope that she might locate some essential truth of life. Her truth is different from mine, but it sounds like she had something healthier than anger to sustain her. And I can be moved by her song now in a way I couldn’t when I was younger.

So it was only in the last few weeks that I finally listened to One Moment More in its entirety and made it to the title track, which closes the album. That might have been too much for my 15-years-ago self to hear. It’s a song about leavetaking, general enough that it could be sung to a lover or a friend or anyone whose departure would upend someone else’s life. But we know it’s not that. We know that is song is about her mother, which makes the chorus sound even more desperate: “Oh, please don’t go,” Smith sings, that faithful steadiness having left her voice. “Let me have you just one moment more.” There is no poetry in that lyric, which only makes her pleading more powerful. It sounds more direct, more desperate, the emotional need stronger than pen and paper could hold.

The composure Smith shows on “Come to Jesus” has eroded into uncertainty. “Tell me that one day you’ll be returning, and maybe, maybe I’ll believe.” It’s that extra “maybe” that sells the sentiment, that conveys her struggle to maintain her faith. Ultimately, the arc of One Moment More veers from certainty to doubt, which seems unusual. Most albums, especially Christian or country albums from this era, would rather end on a note of certitude and firm belief, because the story of overcoming tragedy is attractive and reassuring. But Smith knows you never truly recover from grief. It grips and marks you for the rest of your life. We will mourn our parents until we die, and at this point in my life, that idea is inexplicably comforting.


Photo credit: Fairlight Hubbard

Luck Reunion 2019 in Photographs

By all accounts, Luck Reunion may be the single best day of SXSW and this year they outdid themselves once again. BGS photographer Daniel Jackson was on hand through the seas of western wear and clouds of pot smoke, in the pit and behind the scenes, shooting stage photos and portraits, capturing the one-of-a-kind vibe and stellar lineup of Luck.


All photos by Daniel Jackson

The Tim O’Brien Band Reaches Beyond

Tim O’Brien is only half-joking when he acknowledges, “You know, I have not been known to show up with the same people from date to date.” True enough, considering he’s been with Hot Rize for four decades, played mandolin and sang on the first Earls of Leicester album, issued numerous collaborative albums with family and friends, and carved out a career as a Grammy-winning folk artist. Along the way, he’s also produced notable roots artists ranging from the Infamous Stringdusters and Yonder Mountain String Band, to Kathy Mattea and Laurie Lewis. His multiple IBMA Awards include two trophies for Male Vocalist (1993, 2006), and another for the 2006 Song of the Year, “Look Down That Lonesome Road.”

That road is less lonesome now that he frequently travels with his partner, Jan Fabricius, a mandolin player and singer who makes her leap into professional music with O’Brien’s new album, The Tim O’Brien Band. In an effort to find players adept at both Irish and bluegrass music, the impeccable ensemble is rounded out by Mike Bub on bass, Shad Cobb on fiddle, and Patrick Sauber on banjo and guitar. Released one day after O’Brien’s 65th birthday, the project leads O’Brien and his colleagues toward tour dates in his native West Virginia… and beyond.

O’Brien invited The Bluegrass Situation into his music room for a chat about being a traveling musician, a songwriter and (much to his surprise) a role model.

BGS: Pretty early on this record, you have some traditional tunes. Why did those songs seem right for this album?

O’Brien: Let’s see, we’ve got “Doney Gal” and the two reels, and we’ve got “Pastures of Plenty” – I guess that’s traditional now. You know, I didn’t write a lot of songs this time, and I revisited one that I recorded before. I had recorded “Crooked Road” solo in the past, but I thought it would be really good with a band, and I wanted to hear that. I was happy with the way it came out.

Whenever I started doing gigs on my own in coffee houses, I always mixed it up with traditional songs and covers and my own tunes when I started writing. So it’s kind of a continuation of that. It’s my style of making a record. I’m itching to write some songs, but I didn’t do it much this time.

When you need to round out an album, how do you decide what to record?

I go to the CD shelf over there. Nowadays, I glean ‘em every year and I get rid of the ones that I know I’m never going to listen to much. The ones I keep going back to, there’s often something on there that makes me go, “Oh yeah, I love this song. Maybe I can sing this song…” And I’ll try it. I have one of those Moleskine books that are filled with lyrics of songs that I want to know — and I’ll write the lyrics of the ones that I’ve just sung on a record and need to remember.

I have to say, I’m touched by your rendition of “Last Train from Poor Valley.”

Oh man, Norman Blake is my hero! I saw him first probably in 1972. He was on that first Will the Circle Be Unbroken record and some other friends that were playing bluegrass already knew about him. They had that first Norman Blake record, which came out around the same time. And when I started playing with Hot Rize, we’d play these festivals and we would meet up with him. We got to be friendly and it was like a regular ol’ friend that you’d see. That’s the great thing about the touring community. You see people week to week in the summertime months. That’s why it’s nice to live in Nashville. I used to go home to Colorado and you wouldn’t see those people in the grocery store or the post office. [Laughs]

Norman and Nancy are old friends, and I go back to see them every now and again in recent years. Their music is just so different from what I do, and what Hot Rize did, and yet all these years later, it’s a lot closer. Even though it’s still very different, it’s a lot closer than a lot of the other stuff that’s going on. But I just love the sentiment of that song, and I knew that song from when his record came out. I like to pay tribute to somebody like that. He’s not on the circuit anymore and I don’t want him to be forgotten.

I like the feel of “Beyond.” It sounds to me like a hero’s anthem. What was on your mind when you wrote that?

I had the idea of writing something about, “Let’s get beyond the day to day.” It sounds like a gospel thing, and it fits in there, but if you could find enlightenment within your daily routine, or just get past the stumbling blocks that frustrate you and say, “Hey, man, things are going to be fine… We can go beyond this and look beyond this.” And maybe if we can live there, we can live life more freely while you’re going about the day-to-day.

Do you consider yourself an optimist?

I am an optimist, yeah. Musicians have to be! [Laughs] My friend Chris Luedecke – Old Man Luedecke, a guy I’ve produced some records for and toured with – he says, “Man, we’re the ultimate optimists. We keep getting up in the morning and trying again.” I suppose everybody does it, if you define it that way. We’re all optimists. But yeah, I’m an optimist and I think it’s possible to change, it’s possible to rise above your problems and get around ‘em somehow, and get beyond.

What is your response when younger musicians see you as a role model?

It’s a funny evolution. I guess it’s happened, that I’ve become this role model. It surprises you, but if you look at who my role models were, a lot of them aren’t there anymore. That means I’m getting closer to the checkout line, so I’ve become a role model because I’m still out there doing it. So I guess it’s an honor, but it gets to be intimidating to continue, because you think you’re not coming up with your best stuff all the time, and you wonder if you can even show it.

Hot Rize is that way. It’s hard to go and record a Hot Rize record because of nostalgia. People look at Hot Rize’s repertoire and go, “Sheesh! There are so many great songs!” But it took, I think, eight records to get all those together. It sort of magnifies things in a funny way, and it will intimidate even yourself, as you’re trying to repeat yourself. Hot Rize can repeat ourselves, but the idea of putting a new record out was like, “Oh man… we really need to be good! We better be as good as all that.” You do a lot of soul searching and you take it more seriously.

I wanted to ask you about writing “Hold to a Dream,” because that song has done well for you – it’s something of a standard, I would say.

“Hold to a Dream” is a good one. I had been into Irish music for a while, and that seemed like an Irish tune. The lyric is not necessarily very specific about anything. It’s a love song, I guess, but it’s like the theme of “Beyond” — it’s possible. We can get past everything and we can still do well. I like that one because it’s got a little rhythm, it’s got a little instrumental bit, and it’s got a little bit of a message – and it’s fun. And it’s got a nice chord progression. [Laughs] …

What I’m surprised about some of the songs that I’ve written that have translated so much, there is nothing heavy about them. But people are distracted by music and then they are allowed to think about other things while they are listening to it. And just a few words will suggest something. I think songs like “Hold to a Dream,” or other songs where there’s an instrumental section, lets people go, “Ah, yeah… hmm….” (laughs) You start singing and they might start thinking of something else.

Newgrass Revival does a magnificent version of that song, and you’ve also had cuts along the way by Garth Brooks, Dixie Chicks, Dierks Bentley, Kathy Mattea, Nickel Creek, and others. As a songwriter, what is that like to hear something you wrote come to life through another artist?

It’s really flattering when anybody sings your song, if they want to. There’s a monetary reward, which is nice, but mostly you’re just flattered. Then you realize, OK, what I’m doing is valid. It means something, so continue. That carrot is the one I really want to catch, knowing that what you’re doing is worthwhile.


Photo credit: Michael Weintrob

Gig Bag: Mary Bragg

Welcome to Gig Bag, a BGS feature that peeks into the touring essentials of some of our favorite artists. This time around, Mary Bragg details the items she always has nearby when out on the road.

For me, there’s not a much better morning on tour than one that immediately starts with a good cup of coffee. My travel French press means all I have to locate is hot water; I bring my own beans, and voila, caffeine moments begin — usually paired with my journal full of scribbles, free-writing, and loads of to-do lists.


The tiny journal that fits in any bag. I carry one with me all the time — at home and on the road, in case something interesting falls out of the sky. And a Sharpie, too, both for writing and the emergency CD-signing.


My sweet travel jewelry box that makes me feel at home, carved with a little inspiration from the one and only Eleanor Roosevelt.


A whole host of my favorite print media for moments when I can sneak in a little quality journalism. (Ahem, journalism major here.)


The trustiest road snack: homemade granola. Schedules can be pretty wacky on tour, and you never know when you’re going to need a solid protein boost. Granola does the trick for me, on its own or with yogurt; I make it at home all the time and keep a stash in the car, especially for moments when I’m unexpectedly hungry and in the middle of nowhere.




Photo credit: Laura E. Partain

Britain’s Yola Blends Soul, Country, and ’60s Pop on Astonishing Debut

If you’ve ever had the good fortune of being in the audience for one of Yola’s live shows, you will have been utterly blown away not only by the power of the British singer/songwriter’s voice and the intensity of her songs’ arrangements, but also by the bedlam her audiences devolve into in the presence of such a commanding, charming, visibly strong black woman. Yola owns each of these unabashed facets of her identity with bright-eyed self-awareness and unbridled joy, all of which pour forth from her astonishing debut album, Walk Through Fire.

This grandiose power that Yola possesses is deliberately not the focal point of the album, though. She and her collaborator/producer Dan Auerbach have artfully balanced the wildness of Yola’s experiences in myriad genres (pop, electronic, and rock among them) with the subtlety and nuance that her deft songwriting demands. It’s not just an album sung by a “strong black woman,” it’s not just country-soul, it’s not just a late ’60s/early ’70s pop throwback, it’s not just a collection of heart-wrenching, impossibly visceral love songs — it’s effortlessly and masterfully all of the above.

We sat down with Yola during her release week press gambit in Nashville and began our conversation recapping this year’s Grammy Awards.

BGS: In one of her Grammy acceptance speeches this year Brandi Carlile called Americana  “An island of misfits.” I wonder if you agree — and what do you feel like you bring to this island of misfits?

Yola: I do agree. I think Brandi Carlile is on point by saying that. It feels as though people have congregated in Americana, maybe even running from other genres. It’s a place where we are celebrating eclecticism and being open and we’re at least seeking to be diverse — and trying to understand that diversity, instead of having fingers in the ears. There’s a little bit more to the scene. It allows people like Brandi Carlile to rise to the top, and rightfully so, because of their talent!

I have found, for me, that after being associated with a lot of different genres over the years, I’ve had to fight to just be me. I’ve had to do as much fighting in this particular scene, because everyone’s crossing something with something or being more unexpected than other genres. Doing shows at AmericanaFest and in this particular scene has given me a chance to develop. Full stop. And to get started.

When I first started I was pretty terrified to do what I was doing. Americana allows me to be like, “Hi, okay, I’m the black British woman with the afro — no, not the other one, the one called Yola.” [Laughs] And I can go, “Okay, I’m going to mix some soul with some country, but not in the way you think I’m going to do that.” Yes there’s going to be a ’60s pop sound in there, but again, probably not in the way you think I’m going to do that, either. Maybe it is my Britishness that is giving me the angle from which I approach each thing.

I feel like the album is decidedly country-soul, and it’s interesting to me because we’re in this community — Americana with a capital A — that is majority-white.

Mhmm. Heck yeah!

We’re working on diversity, like you said, but we’re a work in progress. So I wonder how you feel your blackness is part of that country-soul designation and how much of that is not connected to your blackness, as well. I feel like so many people, especially in the audience for your shows, see you step up on stage and they’re ready to scream and holler because there’s a “strong black woman” presence on stage–

Yes.

So I wonder do you feel a differentiation between what you’re establishing as country-soul for country-soul’s sake, and how much comes from your identity as a black woman?

Well, I think it starts with identity, because everything starts from within and from where you think you fit. Where do I fit? I think my entire musical journey has been based on where the frick I fit.

An island of misfits.

Yes, exactly. I found a bunch of weirdos that were as weird as I was and was like, “This is great!” [Laughs] That’s what has led me where I want to go, musically. It’s about finding what my voice wants to do. It’s all about the physicality of my voice, it’s got a soft side, almost choral, that then flips to this big, yelly, slightly more Tina [Turner] side. I can move very smoothly from one to the other. My voice is a seesaw in that situation. I need to be able to be the fullness of myself, so that’s kind of where the country-soul comes from — from within.

That’s at least physically what it is, as well as growing up listening to that music, listening to people who were already doing what I’m doing. I’m by no means inventing the wheel or even reinventing it, for that matter. It’s something that’s just been done. Ray Charles has done it. Mavis is doing it. Maybe the way I’m doing it, with this retro pop kind of angle, is something that others haven’t done, necessarily. But that is narrow in comparison to the vast eclecticism of my musical taste. It’s out of control how broad a day’s playlist can sound.

We’ve talked about this, because I want you to make a bluegrass record!

[Laughs] You’re like, “Are you ready to do that?” And I’m like, “Hey, I’ve got so many genres to get through right now!”

Add it to the list.

Just tack it on, you know? I don’t know if I’m going to go all the way like, Beck levels of breadth. He’s covered some ground, it’s impressive. But I’m enjoying this kind of freedom right now. As fun as it is knowing that country and soul are always going to come out, it’s nice to be able to be free enough to explore gospel and blues and rock and roll and pop. You can hear from the record there are probably four comfortable genres within it and they all move completely seamlessly from one to the next. That’s what I love about music. I love how close it all is.

Going back to the physicality of your voice for a moment, one of the things that struck me about the album is that it feels like you’re laying back–

Mmmm. You know me!

It feels like you’re being reserved, your signature Yola-dialed-up-to-eleven isn’t there all of the time. Talk me through that less-is-more decision making process.

Certainly, the songs kind of spoke for themselves. When you finish writing a song you can decide whether you’re going to tack a big ol’ outro on the end of it and then whether you’re going to freaking scream to the heights of the ceiling on that outro. But I thought, I don’t know whether I listen to albums where the singer is going hell-for-leather, top to bottom, all the way through. I like to listen to albums top to bottom and I like a bit of a gradient. So as the songs come, one by one, I kind of have a look and think, “Okay, I don’t think the song needs this.” It’s about trying to respect the song and the will of the song. Sometimes the song really needs it, like “It Ain’t Easier.” I’m going to go there! [Laughs] I was purposefully selective and I think it was each song that led me.

The songs do feel like they’re all related, but they’re all distinct. For instance, “Still Gone” and “Keep Me Here” back to back feel like the same story told from slightly different perspectives.

They are! “Still Gone,” in my mind is about being in a relationship. You met someone, they were amazing, then whoever the heck that person was, they fucked off and the person you end up with is your consolation prize. You’re looking over your shoulder thinking, “Oh, still gone!” It’s like chasing the dragon, but it’s the person you were dating. That first hit, that’s the one. Everything else after just pales in comparison. It’s very much that moment of realization, that moment before you start checking out of the new relationship, when you start staring off into the distance.

That faraway look in your eye!

That faraway look in your eye! It’s all tied together. That’s the precursor feeling. It’s the “You’re literally everywhere, but you’re not here” situation.

So “Keep Me Here” turns that same idea on its ear.

It does! Because you haven’t got the guts to be alone. You’re being a chicken. You’re being fed, again, chasing the dragon. Like, “That first hit was good, can’t we just have that bit?” No, you can’t. You have to have the full wonderful person — especially when they’re not wonderful, that’s challenging. You’re just hoping for those little moments, those little glimpses that keep you hooked in. In my situation, I was working with my ex, my partner at the time, and so it was very much like being totally hooked, and musically hooked, and socially hooked, and all of these hooks become something that keep you holding on in light of glaringly horrible interactions in every part of your life. I think it takes a lot of self esteem to grow up enough to realize you need to move on. The twenties are not really the time when self esteem is at its full!

It’s funny that we begin that “chasing the dragon” when we’re in our twenties when we have no idea what that thing actually is.

[Laughs] Exactly! We have no idea! But we’re just desperately going for the thing. It felt good that one time, maybe it will happen again. It’s about as well-advised as taking smack, you know? It shouldn’t be like a hit, though. It should be consistent. But you don’t learn about the healthy ways of doing life until you have the experience.


Photo credit: Alysse Gafkjen

LISTEN: Leo Rondeau, “On And Off Again”

Artist: Leo Rondeau
Hometown: Dunseith, North Dakota
Song: “On And Off Again”
Album: Right on Time
Release Date: March 8, 2019

In Their Words: “I came up with the idea several years ago after watching a friend break up and get back together with his partner multiple times. After going through something similar, I came back to it and was able to finish it fairly quickly. While we were recording it wasn’t clear to me what kind of background vocals we were going to do when Alexis (Saski) and Margo (Price) showed up, but apparently everyone else was on the same page because from the first take they were dialed in and I thought, ‘Damn.’ Combine that with Gary Newcomb’s steel solo, which gives me pause every time I hear it, then you’re hit with the death blow if you were still hanging on.” –Leo Rondeau


Photo credit: William Aubrey Reynolds

Discovery of Townes Van Zandt Continues With ‘Sky Blue’

“I have a big gun safe next to my desk….”

When a tale starts with those words, you know it’s going to be interesting. But it’s not what you might first think. This safe didn’t contain the weapon for a hunt. It held the prey.

Let’s let the speaker continue:

“…where I keep all the CDs people give me, but can’t listen to them all.”

That’s Jeanene Van Zandt, who was married to the late Texas singer-songwriter Townes Van Zandt. Inside that gun safe in her Nashville home was also a disc containing “lost” recordings Townes made in a friend’s basement studio in the early 1970s. And on that disc were two songs for which she had been hunting around the world for years — as well as what may be the first recorded versions of Townes’ most famous song, the ballad “Pancho and Lefty,” and another favorite, “Rex’s Blues.”

Now 11 songs from that disc, including those four, have been put together for the album Sky Blue, the title coming from one of the previously unheard selections. On March 7, the set was released on his family’s TVZ Records via Fat Possum, on the 75th anniversary of Townes’ birth. And it comes at a time when a new generation — the fourth, by Jeanene’s calculations — is coming to discover Van Zandt’s music, even if some don’t know that he died in 1997 after years of issues with substances and mental health.

“I still get letters from people who have no idea he’s dead,” says Jeanene, who is also executor of Townes’ literary estate. “Things like, ‘We’re working on this tour and heard your music.’ I have to say, ‘Sorry to inform you that he died 22 years ago.’”

Since Townes died, Jeanene has spent a lot of time and effort tracking down recordings he’d made and never-released songs in his rather itinerant life. It’s been a dedicated effort of tracing rumors, following document trails, seeking out his friends and acquaintances, and/or just going with intuition, sometimes paying off, but often finding dead ends.

The current discovery was made by Will Van Zandt, her son with Townes, who took it upon himself to go through the stored material. One of them was a disc simply labeled “1973,” given to Jeanene a while back by Van Zandt’s longtime friend, Atlanta-based journalist Bill Hedgepeth, who had a little studio in the basement of his home where the singer would sometimes record things on which he was working.

“Will came and took some of the discs and had a box of them in his closet and kept telling me about some of the recordings and I said, ‘Bring ‘em!’” she says. “There have been certain missing songs I had looked for for years. Townes would say, ‘I know they’re out there! Find them!’ Over the years I’d stumble across lost songs here and there. And there are two on this one! Two songs I’d scoured the world for.”

“Sky Blue” and “All I Need,” the other missing song, are prime examples of the mix of sorrow and sharp character portrayals plied with starkly economic language that stand as Van Zandt’s artistic signatures. But there’s much more to be treasured on this set, including what may be the first recording he made of “Pancho and Lefty.” That song was made familiar to many when Emmylou Harris recorded it in 1977, and to many more in 1983 when a duet by Willie Nelson and Merle Haggard took it to No. 1 on the country charts, cementing Van Zandt’s stature as a premiere folk songwriter of that era. Townes himself has a cameo in the pair’s video.

Among the others on the album are deeply caring versions of the folk song “Blue Ridge Mountain Blues” and the murder ballad “Hills of Roane County,” plus tributes to fellow songwriters Richard Dobson with “Forever For Always For Certain” and Tom Paxton with a gorgeous “The Last Thing on My Mind,” which is a perfect closer for the new collection.

That there have been so many songs and recordings to be tracked down is a reflection of Van Zandt’s scattered life. The actual dates of these recordings may have come over the course of several years in the early ’70s, a time when he was living variously in Texas, Colorado, and Tennessee, at least when he settled down at all from his wanderlust. He released six albums in that time and had some tentative success, but nothing solid.

Hedgepeth’s home studio, though, was a refuge for Van Zandt, where he felt free to try out songs.

“They were very good friends and he was a very nice man,” Jeanene says. “When Townes would play Hot ‘Lanta he would stay with Bill. Listening to the tapes I’d hear Townes saying, ‘I want this here or that on here.’ So he was working on some project of some sort. Don’t know if this was one sitting or different trips.”

There’s enough variation of sound from song to song that it’s reasonable to assume that it was not all done at one time, but what ties them together is a sense of freedom to express, to try out songs, to sing some things he loved and see how they worked.

“There were 27 tracks, some were repeats, one with a dog barking in the middle, another with the phone ringing,” Jeanene says. “Once we whittled them down we thought, ‘This sounds like a family of songs.’”

A little cleaning up was needed, but the raw unguardedness shines with Van Zandt’s masterful songwriting, guitar playing and singing, connecting the dots between his own spare style and the traditions he revered.

Townes’ own legacy is secure, with dozens of notable artists having recorded his songs and been inspired by his writing, prominently Steve Earle, who not only made a whole album of Van Zandt songs in 2009, but named his son Justin Townes Earle. Others are finding their way to Townes’ music with other new avenues of exposure. Recently Charlie Sexton played him in the movie Blaze, about mercurial singer-songwriter Blaze Foley, a close friend/running partner of Van Zandt and even more of a cult figure.

“[Sexton] was so nervous when they were filming that,” she says. “He knew I’d be there. I came up to him and said, ‘You did fabulous!’”

Townes also figures in the Foley episode of the animated Tales From the Tour Bus series from 2017, in which Jeanene appears sharing her reminiscences of some, uh, colorful exploits.

Katie Belle Van Zandt, daughter of Jeanene and Townes, has found many big fans among her contemporaries.

“I have quite a few friends of the same type of lifestyle that he was living at that age,” says Katie Belle, who is not a musician herself. “There are a lot of musicians around my age, in their 20s, hopping trains and traveling, busking on the road and such, making real folk music.”

A few weeks ago she had the opportunity to play the new release for her friends Benjamin Tod and Ashley Mae of the Lost Dog Street Band and another musician, Matt Heckler, who often travels with them.

“They were the first people I played this to,” she says. “They loved it. They thought it was beautiful. Ben said it reminded him of what songwriting’s about.”

For Katie Belle, the sorrow is what comes through most strongly, but also a sense of life in him that she largely missed, as she didn’t get much time with him.

“The very end of ‘Sky Blue,’ the first time I heard it, where he talks about how he longs to be the sun and longs to be the moon, made me tear up,” she says. “It’s beautiful. When my dad passed away I was really young, and when I get new music I hadn’t heard by him, it’s like wearing another piece of him.”

Jeanene Van Zandt is gratified, but not at all surprised, that her ongoing efforts to get her husband’s music to the world, both old releases and new discoveries, is having impact.

“I don’t think there’s going to be a human who can’t identify with these songs, whether 50 years from now or yesterday,” she says. “He was a master of the English language, studied people — in fact a little naughty doing it. He would push buttons and see what reactions he could get out of people and a lot of times they’d be jumping up and down and trying to kill each other and he would giggle and think it was funny as hell.”

And if some people hear him for the first time with this new release, that’s great too, she says.

“He’s not shrinking away,” she says. “I’m pretty sure there will be a fifth, sixth, seventh generation who will try to get ahold of him to go on tour with them.”

WATCH: Bill and the Belles, “That’ll Be Just Fine”

Artist name: Bill and the Belles
Hometown: Johnson City, Tennessee
Song: “That’ll Be Just Fine”

In Their Words: “We’re excited to share a new side of Bill and the Belles, a bigger, moodier, more decade-ambiguous sound! We wanted to nod toward early R&B and girl group pop vocals (think early Sam Phillips-era Sun Records, the Shangri-Las), while growing our instrumental backdrop with the introduction of stride piano and drums. Working with Bristol’s Big Tone Records was a thrill: we’re no strangers to vintage recording methods, and we think the warmth and depth of recording to tape really suits us. In the glow of fluorescent lights in an unmarked building in Southwest Virginia, the Big Tone studio accomplishes something remarkable: each microphone, each piece of furniture, even the clock on the wall carries a story, and with ‘That’ll Be Just Fine,’ we’re working to carry that narrative forward.” –Bill and the Belles


Photo credit: Nico LaRoche-Humby

Britain’s Got Bluegrass: March 2019

Get off your couch and go hear some live music with Britain’s Got Bluegrass! Here’s the BGS-UK monthly guide to the best gigs in the UK and Ireland in March.

Mile Twelve, 20 March, Green Note, London (and nationwide)

First let us rave about Mile Twelve, a band who, unlike the bearded wonder, have never played in the UK before, and who will–we guarantee — send you home with a big smile on your face. This young five-piece from Boston are some of the most skillful musicians of their generation — they’ve picked up multiple Emerging Artist award nominations at past IBMA Awards for their ability to mix hard-driving traditional bluegrass with a thoroughly modern sensibility, all while charming an audience’s pants off. Catch them on this UK tour and you’ll be able to say you saw them first… Check out their cover of “Rocket Man.”


Chris Stapleton, 8 March, Glasgow

If there’s a musician more likely to bring a British arena to its knees this month, we’d like to know who it is. In a land of anxiety-ridden repressives (we can say that because we are too), Chris Stapleton is so droolingly cool that it’s tempting to worship him as a god. Last time he was in the British Isles he was duetting with Justin Timberlake at the Brits, for heaven’s sake. In addition to Glasgow, you can catch his barrel-aged voice in Dublin and London, where he’ll be sharing the billing with Keith Urban, Lyle Lovett, Ashley McBryde and Lady Antebellum among many more at the C2C Country to Country music festival.


Thunder and Rain, from 6 March, nationwide
A dreamy blend of dobro, mandolin, guitar and bass, the Colorado-based band Thunder and Rain sound as Golden as the town they hail from. There are plenty of opportunities to catch them across the UK and Ireland on their month-long tour, from Bangor to Basingstoke, Southport to Middlesbrough, and Edinburgh to Whitstable.


Ida Mae, 12 March, Norwich

With their Ethan Johns-produced album dropping this summer, it’s a good time to introduce yourself to Ida Mae, the husband-wife duo of Chris Turpin and Stephanie Jean. Their previous band, Kill it Kid, specialised in indie-grunge, but they’ve now created an altogether mellower sound that’s already proving hot property stateside. Having upped sticks from north London and moved to Nashville, this is a rare chance to catch them back in Turpin’s hometown. They’ll also play London’s Omeara before heading back to the US to tour with Blackberry Smoke.


I’m With Her, 19 March, Hackney Empire, London

The three artists in I’m With Her don’t like being called a supergroup. So let’s just say that the hot-damn are-you-serious this-is-too-much power trio of Aoife O’Donovan, Sara Watkins, and Sarah Jarosz stop off in London for a single night at the Hackney Empire before they embark on a European tour of Norway, Denmark, the Netherlands, and Spain. And if you’ve never heard them sing live, you need to get yourselves to this gig and find out just how many ways their vocals can break your heart.


Photo of Mile Twelve: David Green