Practicing What You Preach: A Conversation with Courtney Marie Andrews

Courtney Marie Andrews has a wish for the world, as large swaths of it hold tight to the isolating practice that is hatred: Be kind. It’s a simple thought, but a complex action, and the inspiration behind Andrews’ new album, May Your Kindness Remain. The title track — like “Irene” from her 2016 breakthrough album, Honest Life — is advice-heavy, but the central tenet is an important one. Bad things will continue to upend your life. Don’t just stay strong in the face of it, stay kind. To emphasize that point, Andrews interlaces her new album with new influences, namely soul, gospel, and blues. As a result, the song resounds like the culmination of an especially fiery sermon — an organ accentuates the folk-rock through-line, while a choir backs Andrews’ expansive vocals.

Where Honest Life found Andrews reckoning with the sacrifices she’d made to pursue her craft, May Your Kindness Remain broadens that vantage point. Andrews culls perspectives from those she met on the road — a place where she has spent the majority of her time since she began touring, nigh on a decade ago — interlacing new characters, settings, and experiences under the umbrella of her voice. The ballad-esque “Rough Around the Edges” puts a name to a feeling — as minimal as malaise, as maximal as depression — that often exists in the shadows, while “Border” reminds listeners to withhold judgment and extend empathy instead. Andrews also pushes her vocal limits, stretching her voice to gospel’s high altar on “May Your Kindness Remain,” and returning it to earth on the sequined-stage country affair “Kindness of Strangers.” Preaching the gospel of kindness may seem like a departure from Honest Life, but Andrews proves there’s much to be gained from stepping outside her supposed stylistic lane. Her emotive voice and illustrative lyricism make her a necessary minister in these modern times.

Depression is a huge topic right now, especially in light of issues like gun control and the opioid crisis, but it continues to carry a stigma. How do we move beyond that kind of shaming?

I think it starts with talking about the issue and also just being open about it. I feel like, of course, there are a lot of things that need to change within the government, like aiding these sorts of things and taking it seriously. People talk about it a lot, but nobody actually makes any changes toward putting money toward research facilities to help guide those problems. My grandmother committed suicide, and the reason that she did is because it was around the time when she was basically a guinea pig for mental illness.

Oh, wow. Was she in and out of a lot of facilities?

Yeah, exactly, and they were giving her way too many pills and shock treatment and that sort of thing. I look at the path which we’ve come from, and it’s gotten better, but it’s been so long. It’s been 40 or 50 years since that happened — we really haven’t made any improvements. I mean we have, it’s just been small. It’s not very much for that long of a period.

Definitely. There’s still a persistent problem of patients not seeming to understand their own bodies. Not to criticize all doctors, but patients still seem to lack authoritative subjectivity over their experience.

Yeah, or that it’s not real because it’s hard to measure, if you can’t see it or feel it, and so many doctors — I, as well, don’t want to criticize all doctors — don’t have the time to really explore what’s the matter. I think it’s multiple things that need to change. Just day to day, one of the themes of the record — kindness, that sort of thing — I feel everybody is capable of changing, but also there are larger obstacles that lie within medicinal fields and the government, as well.

Absolutely. “Rough Around the Edges” is such a powerful way to put it, but it also peels back that layer of otherness. Where did that phrase come from?

That song definitely came from that phrase. When I was bartending a couple years ago, I saw a couple guys at the bar that are these old-timer type guys and not always appropriate, and I thought, “You know, they’re kind of just rough around the edges.” It was that lightbulb moment where I was just like, “Oh man, that is a perfect way to describe somebody who isn’t perfect and maybe knows it sometimes and wants to explain it to their partner.” It is sort of a way of describing depression, as well.

Right, and as you were saying earlier, since it’s so hard to properly convey this experience to someone, it creates a picture that gets us closer to a stronger level of communication.

Yeah, that’s my preferred way of telling.

There was an element of journalism that came to mind with this album — it was mainly the idea that you are reporting from the front lines, so to speak. It got me thinking about whether songwriting could be a new form of journalism by sharing stories that aren’t being covered or circulated in the mainstream press and, in turn, helping us build empathy toward difference.

Especially with this record, I feel like I grabbed from many different stories, and, yeah, it is sort of like journalism. I think songwriters are empathizers for the world, and sometimes a songwriter offers insight and empathy that maybe somebody who is a journalist might not achieve just because they’re trying to get a story as tried and true as possible. They need a story to grasp readers, whereas songs need a feeling to grab listeners. At the end of the day, I guess I’m a short story writer.

You produced your last album because you said you couldn’t find anybody you could trust. What led you to Mark Howard, besides the fact that he’s worked with all the greats?

Well, that’s what sort of led me to him. I kept seeing his name on records that I loved. I actually had booked some time in the studio that I did Honest Life in, and I just had this gut-wrenching feeling — I went in there two months before we were supposed to record in the studio and I was supposed to produce again — and we made a song, and I was just like, “This is cool, but this isn’t what I want.” My whole purpose, as an artist, is to completely explore and shake things up, and I didn’t get into this to have a formula, a 9-to-5 thing, where I’m like, “This is the sound that is me now, and I’m going to do this every time,” which some people might not like. Change scares them.

Anyway, I was driving in a car with my manager listening to, I think it was World Without Tears by Lucinda Williams, and I was like, “I wonder who produced this.” I saw it was Mark Howard, and we sent him a message, and the next day he replied and, all of a sudden, we were making a record in L.A. I like his non-traditional way of working. It’s very inspired. It’s not very thought-out. Most of the stuff you hear on the record is us playing live in a room without a click. It’s us facing each other. We wanted to create a vibe and a mood, and I didn’t want to make Honest Life 2.0.

You mentioned doing some vocal stretching for this project. What kind of soul or gospel singers inspired you?

I’ve always had those influences. I’m a huge fan of Aretha Franklin, Odetta, and blues singers like Big Mama Thornton, and those ‘70s records that have gospel singers on them. I just never used those influences. I was also going to a blues bar in Seattle where they never had a singer, so I started singing for them because it was fun to use my voice that way. I was naturally interested in using my voice that way.

There’s a definite gospel foundation running throughout the album. How do you think that genre, especially, serves as a call for change?

Well, gospel is rooted in belief in something. I’ve always really connected with the music, even though I’m not religious, by any means. It’s like the gospel of being kind, you know? That’s sort of how I look at it. I guess the gospel of human connection. It’s the lesson I was taught as a kid, and sort of like any gospel, you’re always trying to get back to it.

Lastly, I absolutely adore your song “I’ve Hurt Worse.” I think it’s one of the best “love” songs I’ve heard in some time. Where did it originate?

It’s one of those messed up love songs, I guess. A lot of my family members have a knack for choosing the worst partners, and it’s a sort of sarcastic song. It’s just like, you’re so bad at choosing partners, I’ve hurt worse that I’ll choose you because you’re better than the rest, but you’re still kind of bad.

Right, the element of settling runs throughout it, but it’s not even a bargain.

Unfortunately, it’s almost a self-loathing song. You love who you think you deserve. Well, you don’t feel you deserve much, obviously, because you’re going for these people who are terrible partners. I always wanted to write a funny … I feel like so many people just revert to sad and, as great as sad is, I like to add other elements of the human psyche.


Photo credit: Laura E. Partain

NEWS: 2018 Americana Music Awards UK Winners

In addition to presenting achievement awards to Robert Plant, Mumford & Sons, the Wandering Hearts, and Come Down and Meet the Folks, the Americana Music Association UK announced the winners of their 2018 awards today at a ceremony in London. The event featured performances by Robert Plant, Marcus Mumford, Imelda May, Angaleena Presley, Courtney Marie Andrews, Emily Barker, Aaron Lee Tasjan, Robert Vincent, Worry Dolls, and the Wandering Hearts.

UK Album of the Year
Brilliant Light by Danny & the Champions of the World (produced by Chris Clarke)
I’ll Make the Most of My Sins by Robert Vincent (produced by Robert Vincent, Michael Gay and Etienne Girard)
Proud Disturber of the Peace by William the Conqueror (produced by Ruarri Joseph and Harry Harding)
Sweet Kind of Blue by Emily Barker (produced by Matt Ross-Spang)

International Album of the Year
A Deeper Understanding by the War on Drugs (produced by Adam Granduciel)
Honest Life by Courtney Marie Andrews (produced by Courtney Marie Andrews)
So You Wanna Be An Outlaw by Steve Earle & the Dukes (produced by Richard Bennett)
The Nashville Sound by Jason Isbell & the 400 Unit (produced by Dave Cobb)

UK Song of the Year
“Devon Brigade” by Police Dog Hogan (written by James Studholme)
“Endless Road” by Worry Dolls (written by Zoe Nicol, Rosie Jones and Jeff Cohen)
“Home” by Yola Carter (written by Yola Carter)
“Moonshine” by Foy Vance (written by Foy Vance)

International Song of the Year
“Pa’lante” by Hurray For The Riff Raff (written by Alynda Segarra and Pedro Pietri)
“Ready to Die” by Aaron Lee Tasjan (written by Aaron Lee Tasjan)
“Tenderheart” by Sam Outlaw (written by Sam Outlaw)
“Thirteen Silver Dollars” by Colter Wall (written by Colter Wall)

UK Artist of the Year
Danni Nicholls
Danny & the Champions of the World
Emily Barker
Laura Marling

International Artist of the Year
Angaleena Presley
Courtney Marie Andrews
Imelda May
Rhiannon Giddens

UK Instrumentalist of the Year
Georgina Leach
Kit Hawes
Harry Harding
Thomas Collison

BGS Class of 2018: Preview

At only 11 days old, this year already looks to be a stellar one for roots music. From Marlon Williams to John Prine, Sunny War to Bettye LaVette, artists young and old are making some of the best records of their careers, and it is a thrilling thing to behold. Here are some of the releases that our writers are most excited about you hearing.

Brandi Carlile: By the Way, I Forgive You

Marlon Williams: Make Way for Love

Anderson East: Encore

HC McEntire: Lionheart

Courtney Marie Andrews: May Your Kindness Remain

John Prine: TBD

Gretchen Peters: Dancing with the Beast

Sunny War: With the Sun

Lindi Ortega: Liberty

— Kelly McCartney

* * * * *

Stick in the Wheel: Follow Them True

Belle Adair: Tuscumbia

Julian Lage: Modern Lore

Red River Dialect: Broken Stay Open Sky 

Jerry David DeCicca: Time the Teacher 

Ed Romanoff: The Orphan King

Haley Heynderickx: I Need to Start a Garden

Various: The Ballad of Shirley Collins OST

Bettye Lavette: Things Have Changed

— Stephen Deusner

* * * * *

Brandi Carlile: By the Way, I Forgive You

First Aid Kit: Ruins

Lucy Dacus: Historian

Anderson East: Encore

Kacey Musgraves: Golden Hour

Jack White: Boarding House Reach

Darlingside: Extralife

I’m With Her: See You Around

Calexico: The Thread That Keeps Us

Sunflower Bean: TBD

— Desiré Moses

* * * * *

Anderson East: Encore

Marlon Williams: Make Way for Love

First Aid Kit: Ruins

Loma: Loma

Femi Kuti: One People One World

Joan Baez: Whistle Down the Wind

S. Carey: Hundred Acres

They Might Be Giants: I Like Fun

— Amanda Wicks

* * * * *

Jack White: Boarding House Reach

Brandi Carlile: By the Way, I Forgive You

Ashley McBryde: TBD

Brothers Osborne: TBD

Joshua Hedley: TBD

Traveller: TBD

Bruce Springsteen: TBD

Courtney Marie Andrews: May Your Kindness Remain

John Prine: TBD

Kacey Musgraves: Golden Hour

— Marissa Moss

* * * * *

High Fidelity: TBD

I’m With Her: See You Around

Ms. Adventure: TBD

Hawktail: TBD

Missy Raines: TBD

Jeff Scroggins & Colorado: TBD

— Justin Hiltner

* * * * *

Sunny War: With the Sun

I’m With Her: See You Around

David Byrne: American Utopia

Hawktail: TBD

Jamie Drake: TBD

Bahamas: Earthtones

Fruition: Watching It All Fall Apart

Darlingside: Extralife

— Amy Reitnouer

Six Stellar Spring Festivals

SXSW’s Music Festival took over Austin last week, a musical milestone that marks the transition out of winter and into spring. More importantly, it heralds the coming of the spring festival season, with a number of excellent smaller festivals whetting our appetites for the big things to come this summer. Get ready to kiss those winter blues goodbye and check out six of our favorite spring festivals.

Treefort Music Festival — Boise, Idaho — 3/22 – 3/26

Treefort doesn’t limit itself to just one genre of music so, if you enjoy more than roots music, this Idaho fest is a good choice. For the roots fans, though, there’s plenty on tap — Courtney Marie Andrews, Angel Olsen, Joshua James, and many other BGS-approved artists are scheduled to perform.

WinterWonderGrass Tahoe — Squaw Valley, California — 3/30 – 4/2

Yeah, it technically has “winter” in the title, but since it kicks off 10 days after the first day of spring, this California festival gets a pass. Look for Greensky Bluegrass, Yonder Mountain String Band, Sam Bush Band, and many more of your bluegrass faves.

Old Settler’s Music Festival — Driftwood, Texas — 4/20 – 4/23

Enjoy beautiful weather and beautiful scenery at this Texas festival, which is a little over half-an-hour (by car) outside of Austin. Highlights this year include Mandolin Orange, River Whyless, and Sarah Jarosz.

High Water Festival — North Charleston, South Carolina — 4/22 – 4/23

A festival curated by Shovels & Rope? Sign us up! This is the first year the husband-and-wife duo are trying their hand at festival curation and, by the looks of the line-up — which features Charles Bradley, Dawes, John Moreland, and more — it won’t be the last.

MerleFest 2017 — Wilkesboro, North Carolina — 4/27 – 4/30

It goes without saying that MerleFest is one of our favorite festivals, thanks to consistently killer lineups, on-site nature walks, midnight jams, and so much more. This year we have Chatham County Line, Jerry Douglas, and Front Country on our radar.

Shaky Knees Festival — Atlanta, Georgia — 5/12 – 5/14

One of the biggest festivals of the spring season, Shaky Knees brings musicians from around the world to Atlanta for three days of music. Ryan Adams, Dr. Dog, Margaret Glaspy, and Shovels & Rope are among the many artists on the festival’s fifth-anniversary lineup.


Lede photo credit: theglobalpanorama via Foter.com / CC BY-SA

BGS Class of 2016: Albums

Though 2016 took a lot of amazing artists from us, it also gave some bright, new voices a chance to shine through and some familiar, steady ones the opportunity to re-emerge. From Courtney Marie Andrews and Margo Price to Dwight Yoakam and Charles Bradley, the BGS Class of 2016 represents the wonderful and wide spectrum of roots music albums released this year. Though the BGS team votes on our class favorites, aside from the top pick, the albums are listed alphabetically, rather than ranked.

Valedictorian/Prom Queen/Class President: Courtney Marie Andrews, Honest Life

Sometimes, folks encounter something — a piece of art, a landscape, what have you — so beautiful that it's hard to put the experience into words. More often than not, those same folks resort to comparison as the only means of getting their points across. That's probably why you've seen Courtney Marie Andrews compared to Joni Mitchell so many times: Her latest album, Honest Life, while certainly, at times, reminiscent of Our Lady in Blue, is so good that it must be explained with an invocation of one of our greatest living songwriters. And, hey, that's not such a bad spot for Andrews to find herself in, but don't let it fool you: The Seattle-based songwriter — no knocks to Mitchell, of course — is a singular voice, one that can only be understood by being heard. — Brittney McKenna

Best Americana Mother Lode: Amanda Shires, My Piece of Land

Amanda Shires is a pro. Since landing her first major gig at the age of 15, she’s recorded and toured with heavyweights like John Prine and Billy Joe Shaver while forging a career as an artist in her own right. On her latest solo album, My Piece of Land, the singer/songwriter/fiddle extraordinaire stakes her claim. Composed while she was homebound during her final months of pregnancy, the record is a stunning rumination on love, lust, family, and home. Produced by Nashville powerhouse Dave Cobb, each song has space to move and breathe, placing both Shires’ serene vocals and songwriting prowess front and center. — Desiré Moses

Best Album to Sip Whiskey To: Birger Olsen, The Lights Just Buzz

Arriving out of Portland, Oregon, and touting his music as “porch blues,” Birger Olsen flew under the radar in 2016, but his debut album, The Lights Just Buzz, is exactly what anyone craving a glass of whiskey and a moment of reverie will appreciate. With a voice close in tone and style to Tony Joe White and a meandering way with melodies and words, Olsen’s six songs offer listeners an electrifying, if unexpected delivery. It takes him over two minutes to introduce his voice on the album’s first track, “The Telephone Dangles on the Line,” whereas on “Liza” he proclaims his desire in as understated yet romantic a way possible. Olsen may build an onomatopoeic sensation into his title, but it’s a feeling that reverberates throughout his entire album. — Amanda Wicks

Most Likely to Remind You of Someone You Know (And Wish You'd Never See Again): Brandy Clark, Big Day in a Small Town

What Brandy Clark pulled off with Big Day in a Small Town was something special. On one hand, she offered up radio-friendly fare that was as catchy as it comes. On the other, she laid down some stone-cold country cuts that would easily stand up to the classics. To do that, an artist must have a rare strand of talent in their DNA — one that follows the muse but feels the mainstream. Johnny Cash, Loretta Lynn, Willie Nelson, Dolly Parton … that's the artistic tradition Clark is part of, and it's incredibly exciting to watch her step into that lineage as both a singer and a songwriter. — Kelly McCartney

Most Likely to Make You Crave Biscuits and Gravy: Brent Cobb, Shine on Rainy Day

It's been a banner year for the Cobb family. Producer Dave released his own album, Southern Family, while lending a hand in the studio to artists like Amanda Shires, Lake Street Dive, and Lori McKenna. His cousin Brent had a breakout 2016, too, first earning attention for his Southern Family contribution, "Down Home," shortly followed by heaps of acclaim for his major-label debut Shine on Rainy Day. That acclaim is warranted, as Cobb, who has penned songs for everyone from Luke Bryan to Miranda Lambert, stitches together nuanced portraits of daily life with thoughtful lyrics, simple arrangements and a unique, unassuming voice that's sure to stick with you long after your first listen. — BMc

Best Supergroup Trio Since, Well, Trio: case/lang/veirs

k.d. lang gets the credit for envisioning this illustrious collaboration with Neko Case and Laura Veirs. And, man, what a stroke of creative genius. Across the collection, each woman brings their unique gifts to bear — lang's stunning vocals, Veirs' quirky melodies, and Case's indie sensibilities — the melding of which is so spot-on in "Atomic Number" that it's hard not to linger there for far too long. Further in, though, "Song for Judee," "Blue Fires," "Greens of June," "Down I-5," and more take turns captivating the listener with their always delightful and sometimes devasting timbres. — KMc

Best Perspectives on a Historically Bad Year: Charles Bradley, Changes; Mavis Staples, Livin' on a High Note; William Bell, This Is Where I Live

Soul music has always thrived as a communal medium, one that can speak deftly to individual experiences within much broader social and racial contexts. Its ability to invite empathy and compassion — and even outrage — made albums by Mavis Staples, William Bell, and Charles Bradley sound like wise commentary on tumultuous times. The folk-gospel sound pioneered by the Staple Singers in the 1960s is just as relevant and radical now as it was then, as is the moral nobility that drove their music. Mavis captures that exuberance on her latest, Livin’ on a High Note, singing like social justice was a rejuvenating endeavor — which it really is. Especially on “Take Us Back” and “History Now” (penned by Neko Case), she sounds like the conscience of a nation that really ought to know better.

William Bell is better known as a songwriter than as a recording artist, but penning both “Born Under a Bad Sign” and “You Don’t Miss Your Water” might actually qualify him for sainthood. His latest release, This Is Where I Live, is his best, a collection of carefully crafted and beautifully sung songs that commingle the personal with the public. The title track recounts his days as a teenage hitmaker and the trials that followed, but by the album’s end he’s singing, “People everywhere just want to go home!” and putting his finger right on the very thing that unites us.

At 68, Charles Bradley is the baby of this bunch, but he brings every moment of his hard and remarkable life to bear on his third solo album, the mighty Changes, one of the most unflinchingly candid and unfailingly generous albums of the year. The title track, a cover of the Black Sabbath ballad, was originally intended as a heartbreaking comment on the death of his mother, which means his performance will reduce you to a puddle of tears. And yet, in 2016, the song became bigger than him, bigger than all of us: It sounds like a new national anthem for a country that is still trying to find a way to be truly exceptional. — Stephen Deusner

Most Unexpected Masterpiece: Chely Wright, I Am the Rain

In Chely Wright's country catalog, there are very few signposts pointing toward I Am the Rain. Sure, "Picket Fences" is a great song. Yes, Lifted Off the Ground has some solid moments. But this … this is a whole other ball of wax, right here. Teaming up with Joe Henry, Wright pours her heart and soul into every line and lick on this record, each song ebbing and flowing through a lifetime of pain and purpose. The natural plaintiveness of Wright's voice and the raw vulnerability of her writing both rest so comfortably within this more Americana-tinged sonic space that it's easy to see where she's going from here. — KMc

Best Bluegrass Tribute to Prince You Didn't Know You Needed: Dwight Yoakam, Swimmin' Pools, Movie Stars…

Leave it to a Canadian tuxedo-ed Los Angeleno to bring us one of the year's best bluegrass albums. Culling from decades' worth of deep cuts, Dwight Yoakam reimagined a number of his personal favorites from his own catalog, string-band style. It harkens back to the Kentucky-born artist's roots, and you can practically hear Yoakam's heart aching for the hollers of his hometown of Pikeville in his voice. And, as a small salve on the gaping wound that has been 2016, his simple, mournful cover of Prince's "Purple Rain" is one of only a handful of tributes to one of this year's many fallen soldiers truly worthy of its honoree. — BMc

Most Likely to Please the Traditionalists … and their Kids: The Earls of Leicester, Rattle & Roar

The Earls of Leicester’s Rattle & Roar is a fresh batch of Flatt and Scruggs songs. Started as a tribute to the Foggy Mountain Boys, the Earls have captured attention from festival to festival with their charming get-up of Western colonel ties, button-up shirts, coats, and hats. Fiddle, banjo, and mandolin heavy tunes about ex-convicts and prayers from mom abound as they reel you in. The sound on their sophomore record is that of traditional bluegrassers' dreams. Though the style is Trad and the tunes are oldies, they’ve managed to freshen up the songs to appeal to a new generation of listeners with honky tonk and gospel influences. What’s old always becomes new again. — Josephine Wood

Best Soundtrack for a Road Trip to Literally Anywhere: Hiss Golden Messenger, Heart Like a Levee

For several years now, M.C. Taylor has been balancing family life, a full-time job, and an increasingly popular indie-folk band — Hiss Golden Messenger. Many singer/songwriters have sung about the small compromises and big consequences of that struggle, but few have done so with quite as much fortitude and candor. “Should I walk on the water,” he asks, not quite rhetorically, on “Cracked Windshield,” “with so many people living just above the water line?” Heart Like a Levee is one of those albums where the liveliest songs sound the most burdened and the quietest songs the most jubilant, celebrating the fact that he has something to commiserate. — SD

Most Melodically Devastating Return: John Paul White, Beulah

The question was never whether the Civil Wars’ John Paul White could stand alone without his former partner, Joy Williams. But if ever doubt existed, Beulah served up the answer on a polished silver tray with mint juleps, to boot. White retreated to his native Muscle Shoals, Alabama, after he and Williams went their separate ways in 2014, and has emerged two years later with his second solo album. The titles alone — “Make You Cry,” “Hope I Die,” and “Hate the Way You Love Me” — suggest a dark album, but White’s strong ear for clever riffs and their expansive arrangements balances the lyrics’ brooding moments with melodies that draw upon traditional country, indie folk, and more. There’s an element of the sublime about Beulah, as if White, content from his current position, can look upon life’s more baleful moments and find the beauty within, which he does time and again. — AW

Most Striking New Voice: Kaia Kater, Nine Pin

At just 23 years old, Kaia Kater writes and plays with the virtuosity of an old-time veteran. Born of African-Caribbean descent in Quebec, she moved to West Virginia to tap into the roots of Appalachia and recently graduated from the first Appalachian Studies Program at the area’s Davis and Elkins College. With her low vocal, attention-grabbing cadence, and evocative banjo, Kater delivers stunners like the title track from her latest album, Nine Pin, which begins, “These clothes you gave me don’t fit right. The belt is loose and the noose is tight. Got drunk out looking for a fight. I’m soft and heavy as the night,” proving she’s the voice we need right now. — DM

Most Self-Empowering Kiss-Off: Kelsey Waldon, I've Got a Way

"You can't place a crown on a head of a clown and then hope it turns out to be king," sings Kelsey Waldon on "False King," a devilish track off her sophomore set, I've Got a Way. Waldon may not have written this with president-elect Donald Trump in mind, but, like on many of the Kentucky native's songs, there are layers of meaning and purpose in her smart and witty metaphors. It's that kind of point of view that makes Waldon's writing evergreen — and, layered with heavy steel guitar, jangly telecaster riffs, and plenty of lonesome twang, able to both conjure up '70s Nashville while remaining in her own unique lane. She's all by herself, indeed. — Marissa Moss

Best Couples' Therapy Set to Music: Lori McKenna, The Bird & the Rifle

Prolific and profound songwriter Lori McKenna has captured some of her deepest words of wisdom and stitched it together in a kind of beautiful needlepoint. The Bird & the Rifle is full of poignant lyricism as only a songwriter of McKenna’s caliber can produce, and even while her songs may not explicitly be intended as advice, sage messages exist throughout each one. There’s her warning about loving someone who kills the best part about you in “The Bird & the Rifle” or about not settling for shitty love on “Halfway Home,” or her chiding self-explanatory “Old Men Young Women.” No matter the subject, McKenna’s exacting phrases do what listeners need of music: articulate those experiences that leave us adrift in our own feelings, and help us find a bridge to understanding. — AW

Most Likely to Kick Your Ass, Figuratively and Literally: Lydia Loveless, Real

“My music is not the most optimistic or mood-lightening in the world,” Lydia Loveless explained in a BGS interview earlier this year. “But I do think it’s about that very Midwestern struggle, that everything-is-so-hard attitude.” By embracing this aspect of her neck of the woods — specifically, Columbus, Ohio, which she describes, almost glowingly, as “such a bitter and pessimistic town” — Loveless has found her truest subject and has made one of the toughest, boldest, and most badass singer/songwriter albums of the year. A collection of finely crafted songs about incredibly messy emotions, Real presents her as the rightful heir to that gaggle of flyover roots rockers from the late ‘70s and early ‘80s, dudes like John Mellencamp (minus the regional jingoism) and Tom Petty (not technically Midwestern, but come on), except with more confrontational wit in her lyrics and bite in her vocals. — SD

Most Stunning Debut to Be Snubbed So Broadly by Tone-Deaf Institutions: Margo Price, Midwest Farmer's Daughter

If you can't tell who Margo Price is three minutes into her debut solo LP, Midwest Farmer's Daughter, then you probably still think that Bruce Willis is alive and well at the end of Sixth Sense. As the soft pulsing bassline on the album's opener, "Hands of Time," creeps in and her chilling, powerhouse vocals take stage, it's instantly clear that this is the work of a singular artist who heads back into battle despite her wounds, spinning her heartbreak and misfortune into songs that are as timeless as they are completely au courant. Midwest Farmer's Daughter twangs as hard as it rocks, from barnburners like "About to Find Out" to the ferocious soul-country groove of "Four Years of Chances." Price might lay it all on the line here, but the beauty of this album is that, while we can understand her, we can never, ever, predict her. — MM

Best Musical Chemistry: My Bubba, Big, Bad, Good

This Scandinavian duo commands the stage like none other, bringing a hush over the crowd at Third Man Records’ Blue Room during AmericanaFest to deliver a bedtime lullaby. It’s not that these two dainty gals are screaming for attention; in fact, they barely speak much at all. But their music is lyrically striking — using what they call the “fragile challenge.” Baring it all in their lyrics and vocals, My Bubba puts their fragility on the line on Big, Bad, Good, and it works. Their blend of old country, blues, and bluegrass is particularly entrancing because the production makes it feel like they are singing directly to you. They’ve mastered the use of silences through their use of minimal instrumentation and two seraphic voices in harmony. — JW

Best Way to Soundtrack an Apocalypse: Parker Millsap, The Very Last Day

We didn’t know what a doozie of a year 2016 would be in virtually all categories when Parker Millsap delivered his outstanding, 11-song sophomore release The Very Last Day in March, but it’s safe to say that the 23-year-old’s marrying of complex characters with dark narratives and whooping, guttural twang made the idea of a modern doomsday a hell of a lot more artful. Album standout “Heaven Sent” details the plight of a young gay man coming out to an evangelical father, while Millsap’s take on the African-American spiritual “You Gotta Move” employs his howling vocals over sparse instrumentals to transform the song’s message from one of Godly comfort to one of a creeping, inevitable descent. For an album crafted around the end of days, The Very Last Day is a good indicator that this promising young voice is only just revving up. — DO

Most Likely to Score a Critically Acclaimed Indie Movie: Parsonsfield, Blooming through the Black

Before Massachusetts five-piece Parsonsfield sat down to create September’s Blooming through the Black, they spent a year playing the same music hundreds of times for a theatre production — a practice that reveals itself on the record in tight harmonies and a knack for the understated. Soft vocals and minimal accompaniment on “Don’t Get Excited” underscore a message of simplicity and minimalism. “Hot Air Balloon” simulates the airy, floating sound of its title, sounding like the zoom-out scene of long-fought romantic tale. None of these are songs that sound the same, though, with upbeat numbers like the title track showing off the band’s range and pointing to their capability for a barn-burning live show. — DO

Best Multi-National Incorporation: River Whyless, We All the Light

Opening with an unplugged vocal harmony that quickly layers African-influenced percussion, We All the Light quickly moves from American to World Folk. Not only is the album an upbeat, string-heavy, shimmering beacon of hope musically, but it also boasts lyrics that everyone in the midst of post-election fallout should soak in. As member Daniel Shearin put it, “We are all the light and are trying really hard to put that idea into practice, seeing everybody as equal and being as inclusive as you can.” It’s nice to remember we’re all in this big world together, and River Whyless reaffirms that message, filtered through a world lens. — JW

Most Likely to Go Electric: Sara Watkins, Young in All the Wrong Ways

From the opening strains of the title track, Young in All the Wrong Ways delivers on its promise that Sara Watkins is all grown up, personally and professionally. She also has something to say. A few somethings, actually. With a stronger voice than we've heard from her, both metaphorically and otherwise, Watkins works through the 10-song cycle using that voice in ways alternately cutting and caring, fierce and fragile. Anyone who can listen to tunes like "Without a Word," "The Love That Got Away," and "Like New Year's Day" and yet be unswayed to fan-dom might need to have their pulse checked. This is simply a beautiful record from an ever-evolving, always exciting artist. — KMc

Most Likely To Sweep You Away: Sarah Jarosz, Undercurrent

Although Undercurrent is Sarah Jarosz’s fourth full-length, she’s described it as a record of firsts. It’s the first album the singer/songwriter/multi-instrumentalist has written while not simultaneously being in school. (She recently graduated with honors from the New England Conservatory of Music.) It’s the first record she’s released without any covers. And it’s her first release since moving to New York, whose surroundings heavily influenced this batch of songs. While the album is wrought with impressive features by the likes of Sara Watkins and Parker Millsap, it’s Jarosz’s smoky alto and ever-adept musicianship that make this record a standout. — DM


Most Likely to Move Your Heart and Hips: St. Paul and the Broken Bones, Sea of Noise

When St. Paul and the Broken Bones danced onto the scene with their 2014 debut Half the City, the band's vintage soul sound felt familiar yet groundbreaking. But as old-school influences become more common in today's up-and-coming performers, the band's sophomore effort called for a bit more depth — and Sea of Noise delivered. Songs like "Brain Matter" and "Waves" pay lyrical mind to violence and political unrest, while songs like "Flow with It (You Got Me Feelin' Like)" are an unmistakeable call to get on your feet and dance. Sea of Noise was just the right combination of body-moving soul goodness and heart-wrenching lyrical testament to elevate the already heavenly St. Paul and his Broken Bones to an even higher calling. — DO

Best Compass for Those Adrift on Music Row: Sturgill Simpson, A Sailor's Guide to Earth

Sturgill Simpson said that his third LP, A Sailor's Guide to Earth, was a gift to his newborn son — an atlas, so to speak, to the world that lay before him. The gift to the rest of us is that Simpson's planet — built by string-scorching country, fiery soul, and perfectly swanky horns courtesy of the Dap-Kings — isn’t one that many of us are lucky enough to belong to. But like his breakthrough, Metamodern Sounds in Country Music, A Sailor's Guide is transformative: Anchored by an oceanic metaphor, it's at times outlaw funk ("Keep It Between the Lines," that's like Waylon Jennings waltzing into 1960s Detroit), sentimental doo-wop ("All Around You"), and balls-to-the-wall bliss ("Call to Arms"). If everyone in Nashville navigated like Simpson, we'd be dealing in tempests, not truck songs. — MM

Best Album to Distract Your Own Dysfunctional Southern Family from Talking About the Election During the Holidays: Various Artists, Southern Family

It says a lot about producer Dave Cobb — the Americana super-producer responsible from major releases from Jason Isbell, Chris Stapleton, and more — that he was able to release Southern Family under his own name (or, technically, as "Various Artists"). Recruiting a who's-who of critically acclaimed country and roots musicians ain't easy, and getting that bunch to fork over great songs for someone else's album is damn near impossible. And, man, are these songs great. Morgane Stapleton's Chris-assisted "You Are My Sunshine" shows that her husband isn't the only one around the house with some serious pipes. Anderson East's "Learning" is one of his best tracks to date. Brandy Clark's "I Cried" is a straight-up stunner. If there are any lame ducks, it's Zac Brown's contribution "Grandma's Garden"; but, hey, with competition from Jason Isbell, Miranda Lambert, and Brent Cobb, the deck wasn't stacked in Brown's favor. — BMc


Photo credit: j.o.h.n. walker via Foter.com / CC BY

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Just How It Is: An Interview with Courtney Marie Andrews

At 25, Courtney Marie Andrews is already a hardened industry veteran at a point when many artists are just getting started. The Arizona native began writing songs and touring in her teens and has barely stopped since. In addition to amassing a catalog of five albums and a few EPs, she has recorded with Jimmy Eat World and Damien Jurado, toured with Belgian pop star Milow, and sung back-up for more than 40 artists.

So you believe her when, early on her sixth and best album, she declares, “This ain’t no rookie dreaming.” As impressive as that C.V. might be, it doesn’t even begin to hint at the maturity, the resourcefulness, and the hard-earned wisdom of Honest Life. It’s a stirring amalgam of folk, country, and rock, calling to mind Joni Mitchell and Van Morrison, but her songwriting is so personal and so self-possessed that it dispels such easy comparisons. Perhaps the greatest lesson Andrews has learned on the road is to sound like no one other than herself. It’s such a startling work of maturity — so far removed from her previous work — that it almost sounds like a first album.

Maybe that’s why it took her so long to make the record. Andrews penned half the record in Belgium and the other half in Duvall, Washington, where she waitressed at a small tavern and wrote lyrics between shifts. She assembled some talented friends into a makeshift backing band and produced the album herself. She shopped it around to labels, which either demanded changes to the production or couldn’t figure out how to sell it: Was it folk? Country? Indie rock?

It’s a situation that so many artists have found themselves mired in (most recently, Margo Price), but Andrews stuck to her guns, signed with small labels in the U.S. (Mama Bird Recording Co.) and Europe (Loose Music), and released the record on her own terms. Honest Life sounds like both the best sixth album and the best debut of the year. And, of course, it’s already taken her back out on the road.

What led you to settle in Washington State?

I started touring when I was really young. I did my first tour when I was 16, and I started out doing West Coast tours, where I would go to Seattle and come down through Idaho and Utah. When I was in Arizona, the Northwest seemed like the most different place you could go to, if you were from the Southwest like me. I gravitated to it originally for those reasons. I love change and I love to put myself in situations that aren’t normal to me because it helps me grow as a person. I just moved there because it felt completely different than the Southwest, and then I ended up playing around Seattle for some time.

I don’t intend to live there forever. Eventually, I’m going to make my way down to L.A., but I do think the Northwest has definitely influenced my writing. I was living in a very rural town called Duvall, and I lived way out in the woods, about seven miles from town.

Were you writing these songs while bartending?

I was going through a breakup in Belgium when I wrote about half the songs. When I got back to the States, I wanted the most normal job to support myself while I wasn’t touring. So I started bartending in Duvall, and those people’s stories resonated with me quite a bit. They’re all so different from me. They’re very much small-town folks, in the sense that a lot of them have lived in that valley their entire lives. I’ve been all over the world and felt like I was just passing through, but their stories definitely resonated with me. I think that’s why I loved bartending. People will always tell you a story.

It definitely seems like a very social occupation. Waiters can always excuse themselves to check on other tables, but bartenders are stuck at the bar.

Exactly. You’re stuck with those people at the bar. Fortunately, I did a lot of serving, too, so I got to walk around a bit. It definitely cultivated a feeling that I tried to capture in the songs — me as the constant, moving catalyst coming through this town and realizing that sometimes home feels better than the road.

But I’ll be the first one to tell you that, after six months of bartending, I was ready to be back on the road. I like to complain about it, but it’s where I belong. I don’t actually complain too much about it. I love playing. There are just times when you’re far away for five months and you haven’t seen your friends and family. You start thinking, "Oh man, what am I doing here again?" But I’m definitely at home on the road. I just can’t get enough of it. It’s ingrained in me, at this point.

One of the things that impressed me about this record is that you can sing about touring and traveling without it sounding like insider baseball. It’s something anybody can relate to.

I was thinking about this songwriting trope that I’ve heard before, in particular, with political songwriters. The reason Bob Dylan was able to write so many great political songs is because he never put dates on them. You can listen to them now and the ideas still apply to what’s going on today. I feel like that’s what I’m trying to do when I’m writing songs, whether it’s about traveling or whatever. I want to makes it so there’s not a date or a stamp on it. You can listen to it whether you’re a touring musician or not.

These are obviously very personal songs, but to what degree are they autobiographical?

There are definitely elements. A lot of them are very personal just because of what I was going through when I was writing them. But I definitely put other people’s stories in there. The song “Irene” was one I wrote for a friend, but I look back on it and wow, I was writing it for myself, too. I think that goes for a lot of my songs. There are little truths about me and reflections of other people that I know.

I would have guessed that “Irene” was a bartending song. It struck me as something a bartender might say to a patron.

That’s funny. Actually, “How Quickly Your Heart Mends” was written about a woman at my bar. When you’re bartending, you get the people who are drinking too much. My dad liked to call them flippers. People would flip when they had a few beers. There was a woman going through a breakup, and it made sense to write that song. It’s just a small town and the song is about being heartbroken in a small town and how isolating that can be.

What is it like to live with these very personal songs that have such a strong emotional component to them?

The songs still resonate with me, but not in a sad way, I don’t think. I know a lot of people find this record to be sad, but that’s not what I intended it to be. If anything, I intended it to be hopeful. To me, it’s about growing up and becoming the person that you set out to be. It’s about hard truths. When you’re a kid, you think everything will be set in place when you’re 25 or 26. But when you get to that age, you realize that’s not how it goes and you can be okay with that. So when I play these songs, I don’t feel sadness. I feel like they’re very much a part of me — probably the most honest songs I’ve ever written.

I do find some solace and comfort in them. When I first write a song, there’s a period of about six months to a year when I still feel exactly like that. But after a while, I start to feel like I’m just the speaker — I’m just relaying a story to somebody. I try to be in the moment and be present with the words that I’m singing, but it’s more that I’m relaying the story to somebody. It may not be my story anymore. Now it’s their story.

It sounds like you’re using the song for what you need and then passing it along to your audience.

Yes. I think, in a way, that’s the tradition of folk music. The songs are for the people. You sing it and then pass it along. “Red River Valley” doesn’t have a writer. Nobody knows who wrote it. That’s how we pass it along to somebody else. I’ve actually met and played with people who can’t sing their own songs because they connect with them too much and it hurts to sing them.

I don’t know that I’ve ever looked at it like that. I don’t mind revisiting songs, although I guess I could change my mind in five years. There are definitely some older songs that I never want to play again, although the reason I wouldn’t sing them is because I don’t like the way I wrote a line: "That line is terrible! Why did I write that? I could write it so much better now."

So it’s not so much that you outgrow a song emotionally, you outgrow it technically.

Totally. Maybe that’s why I think I became my truest writer on this record. I feel like I finally learned how to write. I don’t know. I’ve always loved writing. I’m proud of my writing, although I’d never want to be cocky about it. It’s hard when you start so young, because you’re passionate and you’re going to release everything that you’ve ever written. But I don’t think I was fully developed, when I first started writing songs. Some people who like my music might disagree, but I don’t think I was quite there yet. So, the past two years, I feel like I’ve been coming into my own.

What led you to produce this album yourself?

It was probably too much pride! I love having producers. It’s such a beautiful thing to be able to work with somebody else. I’ll start by saying that. I’ve done it in the past and I’ll do it in the future. That’s important to grow and change. But for this record, I just wasn’t connecting with anybody I sent the songs to. People were like, "Let’s put synths on it and make it an over-produced pop record." Or they were like, "I need to write a line in this song so I can get a songwriting credit and more money." I got this sick feeling in my stomach. These people just didn’t get it. They didn’t get my songs. I’m not going to enter a relationship with somebody who doesn’t get me. So I just booked some time in a studio, got all my friends in Seattle to rehearse the songs for a month straight, then we worked out all the kinks, went into the studio, and recorded it. I don’t think, in any way, about how modern or cool the production was. It was more about the songs.

Were you nervous about taking on that responsibility?

In the beginning I was, because the music industry tells you that you have to have the best producer and you have to have that producer stamp. There are all these standards that people are constantly whispering in your ear. I guess I’ve gotten to the point where I just don’t care. I’m going to make the record that I want to make, even if I’m just working at the bar for another 20 years. It’s way more important for me to make what I want to make. I will work with a great producer someday, but this wasn’t the record for it. This was just me and my friends making a record.

Did that make it harder to shop to labels?

Shopping the record took way longer than finding a producer, but the funny thing is, everybody who couldn’t work with me just kept listening to the record. That’s what messed with my head the most. They would tell me they loved the record and had been spinning it in the office. They said they were always listening to it. I got these long emails from people about the record, but they didn’t want to take a chance on it. They liked it, but when money comes into play, it becomes a big what-if. I get that. But I ended up going with two really great labels that loved the record from the start, which was a great feeling. It’s more important to go with the people you don’t have to convince. So I feel like it’s had a positive reception. I feel like it’s found its place.

You mentioned that you thought people heard the album as sad. To me, it almost sounds like it’s telling a story that starts out as sad but ends up in another place. Was that something you were thinking about when you were recording?

Definitely. This album is about accepting life’s circumstances. That’s what I was going through at the time. Everybody has gone through that stage when they realize that their life isn’t what they intended. So yeah, the sequencing is important. It starts with “Rookie Dreaming,” where I’m on the train and having that first realization that it’s harder than I thought. This isn’t a rookie dreaming. It’s something more than that. This is prime time. And then the album ends with “Only in My Mind,” which is sort of the same sentiment, but maybe that of a more mature person. Only in my mind did I assume these things had actually happened.

I just had a thought regarding the sad songs: The difference in this record and the things I’ve written in the past as a younger, more angst-ridden person is that now, when I write a sad song, I’m not asking anybody to feel bad for me. When I was younger, it would be like, "Oh pity me. This is how I feel and you should feel it, too." Now it’s more like, "This is just how it is. This is just life." This record doesn’t ask the audience to feel bad.

That’s an interesting distinction to make.

I feel like every songwriter is guilty of writing a few songs like that. When you’re younger, you just think the world is against you. The world hates you. But when you grow up, you realize that the world doesn’t care about you. That sounds harsh.

Maybe, but it also means that, whatever you’re going through, other people have been through it, too. Your pain isn’t special, which can actually be comforting and relatable.

And that’s what music is for — to make people not feel as alone in this crazy-ass world.

 

For more on young, '70s-inspired singer/songwriters, read our interview with Andrew Combs.


Photo credit: Susy Sundborg

Courtney Marie Andrews, ‘Irene’

Just like many male folk troubadours who have to constantly endure the sometimes simpleton logic of being compared to Bob Dylan — should they dare to play acoustic guitar and maybe wear denim — women who do the same are equally reduced to being Joni Mitchell wannabes, often before anyone actually listens to their songs (and especially if they have bangs). For most artists, this is a destructive move: one, because few can actually live up to those touch points, and two, both singers have such idiosyncratic fingerprints that it can only steer people into disappointment … like biting into something you're told tastes like a marshmallow only to encounter savory, not sweet.

But for singer/songwriter Courtney Marie Andrews, the Joni Mitchell comparison is not an unjust leap — she evokes the legend without being completely derivative, and with a little more swing in her step. After years touring as a guitarist and background vocalist for artists like Damien Jurado, Andrews decamped to a small Washington State town to focus on the words and melodies that would become Honest Life, her excellent forthcoming LP, due August 19. "Irene," one of the album's punchiest standout tracks, conjures Mitchell not just in particular voice breaks or sonic choices, but in how Andrews choses subject matter: About a good woman who is a magnet for bad decisions, it's an observational tale in an all-about-my-selfie generation. Full of swinging riffs and piano vamps that fling the lyrics out with clever force, it shows that folk music can be equally savory and sweet.