Robert Macfarlane and Johnny Flynn Join Forces for ‘Lost in the Cedar Wood’

It was a week into lockdown last March that Robert Macfarlane got in touch with Johnny Flynn. The pair were already good friends. Macfarlane is a Cambridge University academic and a bestselling author; his many books, such as The Old Ways and The Wild Places, have helped shape a renaissance in nature writing. Flynn – as well-known for his acting as his albums – writes songs that reverberate with an inescapable yearning for the rural and the pastoral. Britain’s landscape is a place of solace and inspiration for both.

The early days of the pandemic were disturbing, disorienting, frightening. They were also quiet. The nation stayed home and traffic all but ceased: towns fell as silent as the countryside, birdsong had never sounded louder. Macfarlane asked Flynn if he’d like to write a song together and the act of creating together was something to cling to amid the tumult. “It started as just a song,” said Flynn, “and then it became a few songs… but it held me in place and kept me from completely spinning out.”

This May they released the result of their labours: an album, Lost in the Cedar Wood. The combination of Flynn’s folk sensibility with Macfarlane’s sense of place is so sympathetic that you can’t quite believe it’s their first collaboration. But then, Flynn had been reading Macfarlane’s books long before they first met. And Macfarlane was listening to Flynn’s albums like A Larum and Country Mile as he wrote. The author, in fact, thanked the musician in the acknowledgement pages, “because they were the songs I was listening to when I was out walking, and I knew every chord by heart.”

Eventually, a mutual friend introduced them; their first meeting was, in the most English of ways, at a friendly game of cricket. Their shared love of nature and passion for conservation sparked instant bromance. All three of those things manifest in the music they’ve made together.

“Rob was sending me articles about the pandemic being created by deforestation,” says Flynn, “but we were also talking about all the literature that people were reading with a new interest or perspective – Daniel Defoe’s Journal of a Plague Year, or Shakespeare’s King Lear.” Thinking of Anais Mitchell’s Hadestown, based on the Orpheus myth, they wondered what other stories might be worth exploring. Flynn looks at Macfarlane and laughs: “And you said ‘There’s always Gilgamesh’ – as if that was too obvious.”

A 4,000-year-old poem about a Sumerian king, written in cuneiform and discovered on tablets in the ruins of an ancient Assyrian library, might not seem that obvious a starting point to everyone. But it is, as Macfarlane points out, “the oldest story in world literature,” and its potent themes cast extraordinarily contemporary parallels. In the poem two warriors, Gilgamesh and Enkidu, defy the gods by cutting down a sacred forest, bringing calamity upon themselves. “The most powerful myths have a prescient as well as a retrospective vision to them,” says Macfarlane. “And that combination of ancient and urgent pushed us on.”

The songs were written back and forth via WhatsApp and voice memos: “There’s an incredible ease to writing with Johnny,” says Macfarlane. “I never worry much, and we trust each other to say if something isn’t working. I call it the Johnny Flynn song machine. I type out a bunch of words, send them over and they come back as this unbelievable song.”

Macfarlane would like to make clear, at this point, that he can’t play a note; he describes himself as having “all the musical abilities of a deckchair” (“Not true!” says Flynn). When it comes to collaboration with musicians, however, this deckchair has an impressive résumé. He has written a libretto for a jazz opera, had his poems turned into protest songs, and worked with a supergroup of British folk talent – including Kris Drever, Julie Fowlis and Karine Polwart – to create Spell Songs, a musical adaptation of his and Jackie Morris’s book The Lost Words.

Those experiences taught Macfarlane a great deal. “I’ve learned that good lyrics are about letting go, about cutting out order,” he says. “My teacherly prose writer’s inclination to bring grammar to everything has to be left at the door. And a year working with Johnny has brought me to the point where I’ve learned to let the light into language.” He’s particularly pleased with the song “Uncanny Valley,” to be released on seven-inch later this year, “about how things don’t join up with each other in the year we’ve just lived through.”

That sense of dissociation permeates Lost in the Cedar Wood, where melodies expand and contract like our perceptions of time during lockdown. The album doesn’t retell the Gilgamesh narrative – it’s more a series of meditations inspired by it – but Flynn and Macfarlane aren’t shy of tackling its epic themes like death and rebirth.

This should not imply that listening to it is a heavy experience: quite the opposite, in fact. What’s astonishing about the record is how much delight there is in it, from the instantly catchy resonator riff of the opening track “Ten Degrees of Strange” to the modal funk of “Bonedigger.” It often manages to be moving and funny at the same time, as in the plaintive lyrics of “I Can’t Swim There”: “My friend Harry’s got legs to spare/But I can’t find my body, I’ve looked everywhere.”

That sense of light and dark is beautifully mingled in “The World to Come,” which begins with an owlishly haunting melody and ends in a mighty accelerando, gathering speed until it’s a wild, whooping chorus of multiple voices – including Macfarlane’s. “In his wonderfully inclusive way Johnny did recruit me into some distant backing vocals,” he laughs. “And that song is effectively a party — not at the end of the world, but maybe at the beginning of a better world to come. So Johnny was encouraging us into the kitchen — whack the taps! jump up and down! There’s a cutlery basket that goes down at the end and the rawness of that in the record is wonderful to hear.”

The majority of the tracks were recorded in an off-grid cottage on the borders of Dorset and Hampshire, the recording equipment run off batteries powered by solar panels. “I love those albums like Music from Big Pink and The Basement Tapes,” says Flynn, “where you’re feeling the room where it was recorded. And for this one we were in the middle of forestry land, so there was the sound of chainsaws cutting pine trees coming through the windows, and we’d jump out of the window to record birdsong, and we were really in the sonic universe of the stories we were telling.”

Also singing on the album is Flynn’s nine-year-old son Gabriel. That inclusion was important to Flynn – not just because Gabriel is a promising young musician, but because parenting was such an intrinsic part of Flynn’s life, and even his creative process, in the past year.

“I was getting up before the kids in order to write and I’d be halfway through an idea when they piled down for breakfast,” he grins. “Often Rob would get a phone demo of me trying to sing a song and halfway through I’m shouting at the kids…”

“Daddy, where’s the marmalade?” says Macfarlane, recalling the interruptions.

“It was intense,” adds Flynn, “worrying about three kids, but the lovely thing about having them at home was getting to really go into every aspect of their thought process and their day.”

Macfarlane nods. “Stepping out of work into the arms of my eight-year-old, as he runs down the garden, that’s a nice commute.” He pauses. “I hope something like that stays, after lockdown.”

Because that’s the real question behind this album: what have we learned from humanity’s most recent crisis, and how will it change us? When Gilgamesh loses Enkidu as a result of their sacrilegious actions, he begins a new quest for the secret of eternal life. It’s no spoiler to reveal that he doesn’t find it: appreciating what he already has is more to the point.

It is not lost on Flynn and Macfarlane, for instance, that Gilgamesh is a story of close male friendship – even if, as Macfarlane jokingly points out, one of the characters dies horribly and the other’s a brutal despot. You can picture them together, Flynn and Macfarlane, on their much-prized walks through the English countryside, talking of this and that, and coming up with their next creative ideas.

It has, they agree, been a joyful process, and this joint project is surely the first of many. It may have forced them to confront some of their greatest fears for the natural world and the planet on which we live, but it has also endowed them with fresh hope.

Macfarlane also hopes that people don’t feel they need to know anything about Gilgamesh to enjoy the songs – or treat it as a pandemic album. “The days and months of lockdown do soak through its pores but they’re never named,” he says. “I hope in five years time anyone can put their ear to it and not feel they need a key to understand it.”


Photo credit: Hanna-Katrina Jędrosz

The BGS Radio Hour – Episode 209

Welcome to the BGS Radio Hour! Since 2017, this weekly radio show and podcast has been a recap of all the great music, new and old, featured on the digital pages of BGS. This week, we bring you new music off of the beautiful new album Outside Child from Allison Russell, as well as bluegrass songs to celebrate springtime, and much more! Remember to check back every week for a new episode of the BGS Radio Hour.

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Kishi Bashi – “Waiting For Springtime”

To start off this week’s roundup, we visit our conversation with Athens, Georgia-based Kaoru Ishibashi, better known as Kishi Bashi, about his new EP Emigrant. When COVID hit, he and his daughter packed into a camper and hit the road, from the southeastern U.S. all the way to Oregon, over a period of several months. Along the way, he fleshed out the songs that became Emigrant through visiting places like the Ozarks, the Dakotas, and Montana, including Heart Mountain: a World War II Japanese internment camp he visited many times during the production of his documentary Omoiyari: A Songfilm by Kishi Bashi.


Reid Zoe – “When I Go”

This new track from singer-songwriter Reid Zoé is, on the surface, a song about dying, but really it’s about all of the questions that come with being a human on earth.

Full Cord – “Right In Step”

With a catchy melodic hook and low-tuned banjo, “Right in Step” is a lovely bluegrass tune full of love, hope, and togetherness – hopefully a respite from the uncertainty of the pandemic.

Sean McConnell – “Price of Love”

It’s been said that everything in this world comes with a price. For Nashville’s Sean McConnell, that price is reflected in loving someone — be it family, friend, or significant other — and the eventuality and certainty of you losing them. Yet still, he suggests, most of us are willing to take that risk for love, to give up our hearts completely. It’s the price that our heart pays for love in return.

The Deep Dark Woods – “How Could I Ever Be Single Again?”

A new song from pan-Atlantic singer-songwriter The Deep Dark Woods was inspired by English folk band Steeleye Span. Featuring Kacy Anderson on fiddle, the tune asks the titular question, “How Could I Ever Be Single Again?”

Sam Robbins – “Raining Sideways”

“Raining Sideways” is one of Sam Robbins’ most-requested songs, a stream of consciousness lyric that’s one of the most raw and authentic he’s ever written.

Lera Lynn – “A Light Comes Through”

A recent episode of The Show on the Road featured a deep dive with silky-voiced, southern gothic-folk songwriter Lera Lynn. Stick around to the end of the episode to hear Lynn introduce her favorite broken-romance number, “So Far.”

Graham Sharp – “Truer Picture of Me”

BGS recently caught up with Steep Canyon Rangers’ banjo player and songwriter Graham Sharp about the release of his new solo record, Truer Picture. We talked about Steve Martin’s influence on the Rangers and Sharp himself, as well as his approach to songwriting, nature inspirations, and the way literature and music coincide.

Our Native Daughters – “Quasheba, Quasheba”

Our Artist of the Month for May, Allison Russell, wrote this song for her many-times-great-great-grandmother Quasheba, who survived being enslaved, being ripped away from everything she knew, the horrible Middle Passage, having her children taken, and more. Russell says her art and a loving community have inspired her to connect with her ancestors and find connection through intergenerational strength, resilience, and transcendence, despite intergenerational trauma and abuse.

Grace Pettis – “Paper Boat”

Singer-songwriter Grace Pettis literally dreamed up “Paper Boat,” a song about coming of age, trying to fit in, and losing our innocence. She’s joined by her producer, Mary Bragg, on tender harmony vocals.

Allison Russell – “The Runner”

We spoke with our May Artist of the Month, Allison Russell, about the inspiration behind and creation of her honest and stunning album Outside Child, including this track “The Runner.” Read our two-part interview here.

Lost & Found – “Wild Mountain Flowers for Mary”

We hope, wherever you’re reading this from, that snow, frost, and the cold are truly retreating, giving way to longer days, warmer weather, and the gorgeous, humid, cicada-soundtracked days of summer. But, before we get to full-blown bluegrass season – and, hopefully, our first live music forays since COVID-19 shut the industry down in early 2020 – let’s take a moment to intentionally enjoy spring with 12 bluegrass songs perfect for collecting a wildflower bouquet, romping and frolicking in the meadow, and pickin’ on the back porch while the evenings are still cool.

Accidentals – “Wildfire”

The Accidentals spoke with BGS on loving and learning from Brandi Carlile, singing on stage with Joan Baez, the magic in meeting strangers and finding common ground, and much more in this edition of 5+5.


Photos: (L to R) Lera Lynn by Alysse Gafkjen; Allison Russell by Marc Baptiste; Kishi Bashi by Max Ritter

WATCH: Charly Lowry & The Heart Collectors, “Navigating to Hope”

Artist: Charly Lowry & The Heart Collectors
Hometown: Charly Lowry: Pembroke, North Carolina; The Heart Collectors: Hinterland Byron Bay, NSW, Australia
Song: “Navigating to Hope” from Folk Alliance‘s Artists In (Their) Residence program
Release Date: June 1, 2021

In Their Words: “It’s safe to say this global ordeal has proven that no one being has all of the answers; we are all navigating this plane the best way we know how. The Heart Collectors and I find ourselves on opposite sides of planet Earth, navigating to hope. We likened our experiences during this time to being aboard a ship, fighting against Poseidon’s watery fists and underneath dark, ominous skies. We do so with the understanding that we are in this together, and instead of accepting the defeat of a sinking ship, we remain steadfast in our voyage to find our lighthouse, our beacon of hope. This type of imagery was key in the songwriting process and aided us in delivering a message for the downtrodden. Whatever your case may be, we encourage you to seek your peace first, and then move your vessel onward and forward to hope for a new day, season, or way of being.” — Charly Lowry

“Coming together in collaboration from all points on the earth is an extraordinary experience, and one that makes our world so much bigger. Hearing and being present to the stories of people and cultures from one side of the world to another made us see how we literally are all in this together, we have all suffered this at once. Not in our life time has a global experience like this ever been the case, and it brings everything to a level. Things that seemed important became unimportant. The heartbreak of individuals suffering has a profound way of naturally breaking us open to be so much more capable than the usual way of dealing with existence. Finding each other and joining in this online type of creative common room has been the unifying strength to move forward, one step at a time.” — The Heart Collectors


Photo credit: Courtesy of Folk Alliance, Charly Lowry, and the Heart Collectors

WATCH: Matt Sweeney & Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy, “Resist the Urge”

Artist: Matt Sweeney & Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy
Hometown: New York, New York (Matt Sweeney); Louisville, Kentucky (Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy, a.k.a. Will Oldham)
Song: “Resist the Urge” (music video by skateboarders Kevin “Spanky” Long and Atiba Jefferson)
Album: Superwolves
Release Date: April 30, 2021
Label: Drag City

In Their Words: “Spanky and Atiba’s video rules. We try to make the listener feel insanely at home in a musical space. Atiba and Spanky have made us feel like we own a share of the skateable world. We got David Ferguson out from behind the board to play double-bass on this one. It needed the lift that only a Ferg could deliver.” — Will Oldham

“I always wanted to see a full video part with just one skater, and once I got asked to work on a video for this record, I knew that Kevin ‘Spanky’ Long was perfect — his way of cutting out, resizing, moving and manipulating photos and videos is amazing, but also he is an amazing pro skater. I asked a lot of Spanky: I wanted him to star, direct, edit, film and do all of the artwork! It was a tall ask, but I know his love for Matt and Will would shine thru. This video was made in the pandemic so it was just me and him going out and shooting together. We shot around LA for 14 days over 4 months. It was great to work so closely with Spanky’s vision but still have him in front of the camera. This collaboration of directing together was great because we are two different generations of skateboarders, but both coming from the pro skater’s perspective.” — Atiba Jefferson

“This was just a great excuse to make a skate video with a best friend for my favorite band. I ran the high def footage and super8 film into my iPhone where I painstakingly cut frame-by-frame, with relatively low-fi digital tools, to execute the stop-motion animation and digital collage elements. It was, in the end, the only way to achieve this look we were after. And we weaved in the layers of sea and sky to meet the big themes in ‘Resist the Urge.’ COVID restrictions made things tricky to get Matt and Will in there, but we revel in limitations.” – Kevin “Spanky” Long


Photo credit: Jonah Freeman & Justin Lowe

WATCH: Trapper Schoepp, “May Day”

Artist: Trapper Schoepp
Hometown: Milwaukee, Wisconsin
Song: “May Day”
Album: May Day
Release Date: May 21, 2021
Label: Grand Phony

In Their Words: “After this long, hard winter, the music of May Day marks the arrival of spring. The album title is a nod to the ancient holiday that’s historically celebrated by dancing around a maypole in the spirit of rebirth. The title track addresses the struggles of starting over with the tale of a transcontinental relationship that has come to a standstill. The pandemic allowed me to hit reset on certain parts of myself that had gotten lost in the last decade of touring. For all the brightness surrounding the holiday, there’s a dark side that inhabits the characters on the record — ghosts haunt the ‘Hotel Astor’ and lovers become disillusioned in ‘Paris Syndrome.’ The isolation of lockdown found its way into tracks like ‘Solo Quarantine’ and ‘Yellow Moon.’

“The watchtower is located at a secluded nature preserve in Mequon, Wisconsin. You can see for miles in each direction and I found it to be a tranquil environment right outside the city. One of the themes running throughout the album is the natural world and I wanted to highlight that with this video. Despite a cold wind blowing up there, it was also a joy to reunite with some videographer friends I hadn’t seen since COVID took hold.” — Trapper Schoepp


Photo credit: Abby Artish

Harmonics with Beth Behrs: Kristin Chenoweth

This week on Harmonics, in honor of Mental Health Awareness Month, we bring you an emotional conversation with Tony- and Emmy-winning actress and singer Kristin Chenoweth.

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Having recently lost a lifelong voice teacher and dear friend to COVID-19 at the time of this interview, Kristin Chenoweth brings a very open conversation about grief and mental health, talking with host Beth Behrs about her struggles with depression and anxiety during the pandemic, and throughout her life — accepting that she does need to acknowledge her mental health struggles, even though due to her public persona, most people expect her to be “rainbows and glitter” 24/7.


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With Day Jobs on Hold, These Acoustic Musicians Go Solo (Sort Of)

The widespread shuttering of the music industry during coronavirus has given many musicians, bands, and artists the opportunity to inspect and reconfigure their priorities. In the many months since COVID-19 was declared a pandemic, this phenomenon has been well-documented in writing about music — music released as a result of the coronavirus or released in its all-eclipsing shadow, both. Artists have altered so many of the ways they interact with and create music and watching creatives respond to this worldwide cataclysm has been all at once entrancing and existential. 

Especially in instrumental music. Especially in instrumental music made in the off time — away from the “day job,” the main gig, or perhaps, again the off time afforded by COVID. In the gaps, where life allows, acoustic musicians in bluegrass, Americana, and old-time have been exploring the existential questions brought about by the pandemic — and also often by parenthood, by identity, by health and well being, or simply by the pursuit of self — in endlessly fascinating musical endeavors.

Andrew Marlin, co-frontperson of longtime Americana string duo Watchhouse (formerly known as Mandolin Orange) released not one but two albums of such endeavors this year, ostensible results of introspection of his role as a father, fighting-while-resigning-to the day-to-day beauties and fears within fatherhood. There’s a bleak, beautiful nakedness to “The Jaybird,” off Fable & Fire, an age-old sounding fiddle tune with sleek, modern simplicities that seem to indicate the gorgeousness possible from being still, watching, waiting, and listening. 

On Witching Hour, “Too Hot To Move” isn’t a barn burner, it’s a Musgraves-level slow burn; a tepid, mosquito-laden, languid afternoon on a back porch, the air thick with humidity. Again, striking in its display of the delectable everyday, in not just occupying the same place with the same people daily, but inhabiting that place with intention. Marlin’s backing band of Clint Mullican (bass), Josh Oliver (guitar, piano, and more), Jordan Tice (guitar, bouzouki), and Christian Sedelmeyer (fiddle) is largely consistent between the projects as well, reiterating this point.

Sara Watkins, known for many a “main gig” — whether that be Watkins Family Hour, Nickel Creek, or I’m With Her — released another fantastic solo offering, built on many of the same tenets evident in Marlin’s recordings. Under the Pepper Tree, whose title track is the album’s sole instrumental, is a whimsical, winking collection of near-lullabies and other ageless classics rendered as only Watkins could, with pop underpinnings and gloss, but a worn, charming patina of bluegrass and Americana via the American Songbook and its associated canon. 

“Under the Pepper Tree” listens like a fiddled campfire coda to a day on the trail; or, similarly, as if a goodnight to Watkins’ young daughter, after returning from tour. While the album as a whole carries the movement and adventure of the Wild West, as well as theatre and cinema and gaiety, its sense of place — of rootedness — is remarkable, especially in “Under the Pepper Tree,” oozing of lessons learned and intentions made underneath its boughs through pandemic isolation. 

Continuing on fiddle, Mike Barnett’s non-Ricky Skaggs & Kentucky Thunder project released in 2020, +1, feels like somewhat familiar territory, a collection of duets with friends and musical compatriots that stretches out purposefully and athletically from his tours with the Country Music Hall of Famer (who also appears on the album). “Piece O’ Shrimp,” with guest Alex Hargreaves on twin fiddle, is wonky, newgrassy, orchestral, and sly with old-time baked in and a dash of Darol Anger & Mike Marshall’s duet work. 

The poetry in the tune, and the entire project really, came from a health-related pausing of a different kind, though. While the rest of us felt the world halt due to the coronavirus, Barnett’s record release, as well as his performing career, were unexpectedly paused when Barnett suffered a cerebral hemorrhage in July 2020. This collection of songs gains an entirely new meaning, not only in the context of COVID-19, but also as a waypoint on Barnett’s journey through music, his recovery, and his eventual return to playing. Still in in-patient rehabilitation and therapy, Barnett posted an update via GoFundMe (support here) in February 2021 that closed, “…A full recovery is possible and likely!” 

Finally, to conclude our foray into solo instrumental explorations, Sam Armstrong-Zickefoose, multi-instrumentalist and songwriter of Meadow Mountain, considers ideas of place, identity, and belonging on his upcoming crowdfunded release, Spark in Your Smile. Decidedly forsaking tradition-adjacency, perhaps more than might be expected if a listener’s entry point is Meadow Mountain, the album is a testament to Armstrong-Zickefoose’s commitment to community building; he’s utilizing music and creative expression for that purpose. The expansive quality of the project’s lack of genre conjures joy first and foremost, especially on “Mona,” and globe-crossing communities as a near second, each instrument, texture, and tone evidence of what’s possible when roots music allows folks to be and to belong. A priority high on everyone’s list, but especially queer folks in bluegrass, old-time, and Americana like Armstrong-Zickefoose.

As touring bands return to the road, it will continue to be fascinating to watch musicians navigate the reconfiguration of their priorities — and how they will continue to carve out the time to express themselves, instrumentally and otherwise, while life, and the music industry, charges on ahead.


Photo credit: Sara Watkins by Jacob Boll; Andrew Marlin by Lindsey Rome.

LISTEN: Zack Joseph, “Keeping Me Sane”

Artist: Zack Joseph
Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee (via upstate New York)
Song: “Keeping Me Sane”
Album: Keeping Me Sane
Release Date: April 16, 2021

In Their Words: “I wrote ‘Keeping Me Sane’ while I was in the midst of a serious long-distance relationship. When loneliness and uncertainty would take hold, I’d turned to my vices to cope (whiskey & Coke, beverage of choice) and to serve as a distraction from my overactive imagination. It would feel like I was going insane — something I think most of us can relate to in navigating new relationships. In this instance though, the knowledge that my partner was out there thinking about me was enough to pull me through and keep the crazy at bay… or, ‘keeping me sane,’ if you will. While this song was recorded well before the COVID-19 pandemic hit, its meaning has only been amplified. Every person on this planet has now experienced the loneliness and struggles of being separated from a loved one. Let this song serve as a reminder that someone out there is thinking of you — a little something to carry you through these tough moments until you’re reunited.” — Zack Joseph


Photo credit: Ali Miller

LISTEN: Keb’ Mo’ Feat. Old Crow Medicine Show, “The Medicine Man”

Artists: Keb’ Mo’ featuring Old Crow Medicine Show
Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee
Single: “The Medicine Man”
Release Date: March 19, 2021
Label: Concord Records

In Their Words: “I was taking some time out at our house in California with my family. We were locked in and staying away from people. Doing Zoom writing appointments, watching Dr. Fauci on TV doing interviews, and it sparked some ideas. This was one of those songs that just came to me, and quickly. I woke up early one morning and wrote the whole thing in about 15 minutes. Maybe it was the subliminal use of the word ‘medicine’ that made me think of my friend Ketch from Old Crow Medicine Show, so I called him and said, ‘I’ve got a song for you guys.’ In essence, the song is about things that are out of our control, but we should do our best to be good people and citizens and spread love instead of germs.” — Keb’ Mo’

“I first met Keb’ three years ago backstage at the Grand Ole Opry and sensed immediately that we needed to work together. I’d been listening to his music since the late ’90s, so this recent collaboration is something of a two-decade-long full circle of intentions. I called him up two autumns ago and asked if he’d hold some dates to play some live shows together and he said, ‘Can’t now, but soon.’ Well, soon enough came around again this past December when he sent me a brand new song he’d written a few hours before. The song captured the urgency of these stark times like no other I’d heard. It didn’t mince words. No sugarcoating, no placebo effects, rather it was a ‘give it to me straight, doc’ kind of a tune, which told an objective truth, one undiluted by affiliation, vantage point, persuasion. The song shook me up and I wrote back to him that night in December, ‘We got to rush this out soon. Real soon.’ Old Crow jumped right into gear, recording Keb’s powerful song of the times within days of the ink drying. It was a joy. It felt dutiful, meet and right, urgent, essential. And harmonious.” — Ketch Secor, Old Crow Medicine Show


Photo of Keb’ Mo’: Jeremy Cowart; Photo of Old Crow Medicine Show: Kit Wood

Chris Pierce Writes an Anthem for the Young, Black, and Beautiful

Chris Pierce has cultivated a significant following in the Los Angeles area and beyond, usually writing soulful and emotional songs that have populated fifteen years’ worth of albums and appeared in TV shows like This Is Us. But in 2020, accompanied by little more than his 1949 Gibson J-45 (“Blondie”) or his 1973 Martin D-18 (“Doriella”), the California native recorded the album American Silence with a mission of social activism against racial disparities.

Pierce gained a love of language from his mother, an English teacher who taught at-risk youth. She introduced him to the lyrical writings of Shel Silverstein and Dr. Seuss, as well as essential writers like Langston Hughes and Walt Whitman. The economy of words in all of those authors is immediately evident in original compositions like “American Silence” and “It’s Been Burning for a While,” where Pierce gets his point across directly, and with power. His convictions are never more optimistically presented than in the album’s closing anthem, “Young, Black and Beautiful,” which details the experience of maturing from a cute little kid to a perceived threat.

Calling from Los Angeles, he had a lot to say about American Silence, which is poised to become one of the most resounding folk albums of 2021.

BGS: To me, “American Silence” is like a message from a folksinger to an audience. What was on your mind when you wrote the song?

Pierce: History and resilience, and that cycle of bad things happening and people becoming aware of those things. Jumping on the train of, “Let’s try to end this,” and doing what we can to create awareness about a problem. And then kind of fading away. That song, for me, I was thinking about being young and cuffed on the streets, and stopped for things, and how being a Black kid – and now a Black man – can sometimes feel like a crime in itself, just walking around.

I wanted to write a song that addressed complacency, and remind people like myself, and Black people, and anybody’s been oppressed, to never give up. And also, to remind songwriters and artists that it’s important to not give up on reaching out to people, even though it’s sometimes hard. It’s important to keep that fight going in whatever way you can. And it asks those folks: “Hey, you come to my shows, you say you support, but if something were actually happening to me and you saw it, would you do something? And are you willing to do something in your everyday life that would create a more positive experience for people who aren’t like you?” That’s the short answer. [Laughs]

What has been the response so far?

It’s been getting good response from folks who have had my albums through the years. I’ve been getting emails and notes, and I’ve gotten to speak for a couple of schools, which is great. I’ve been invited to speak at events and play songs, and I think it’s doing a little bit of what I wanted it to do — which is to open up the continued conversation. And through a song, let it be another reminder to not let this moment, and these horrific things that happen, and how appalled you are by them, fade into the distance.

Does it change the vibe in the room when you walk in with a guitar?

Yeah, you know, I’m not a petite individual. I’m 6’4” and I’m a big man! And I’m a Black man, and I think walking into a room with a guitar raises a few eyebrows, to where folks will want to listen to a few lines and open their hearts, and to hear what I have to say. It’s being a gentle giant — a man of stature and size, and having this sensitive heart. In a lot of ways, the core of who I am is somebody who really wants to make music and make a difference and spread love. To get into a room with a guitar and sing about our history, and some of the ways I think we could change for the better, is thrilling for me. I’m really looking forward to walking into more rooms soon to play live. I miss it so much!

“Sound All the Bells” is a call to action, too, but it’s also very personal. What’s that like for you to put those experiences in a song and then share it with people?

All of the songs from this album came out of me last year, and for me it was a moment of clarity. Here I was, at home, trying to be safe and responsible, and in a lot of ways being still forced my heart to open to some of these compartmentalized feelings that I tucked away over the years to survive – and face them in a way that I’ve never faced them before. …

“Sound All the Bells” is almost like a timeline through different experiences that I’ve personally gone through, but it also offers the message of, “You know, I consider myself one of the lucky ones, for getting broken ribs and thrown in jail and stabbed and shot at – I’m still here, to sing songs.” So, I want people to really consider that perspective, in hope that it encourages them to do something about it.

One of the lyrics is about seeing a cross burning in your yard when you were 5 years old. That’s a powerful image.

Yeah, throughout the years I’ve had little flashes of memories about that. And a couple of years ago, I was sitting at lunch with my mom, in the town where that happened. We were talking about how things have changed over the years, and she started walking me through exactly what happened, and what she and my late father felt, being the first interracial couple in the neighborhood and the pushback from that. That wasn’t the only instance of hate that they encountered. And once I came along, there was this protectiveness from both of them, having a young child.

When that happened, from my mother’s perspective, it was something that [told them] they had a choice. And their choice was to be strong and to carry on and stay in the house, and try to be an example of love and acceptance. And that’s what they did. I’m so proud of them. It’s one thing to go through that when you’re a kid, but it’s another thing to imagine young parents having that happen. I feel like, in a lot of way, that example of their strength and resilience carries on into who I am, and the kind of music I make. And just the fact that I keep going is part of that moment.

On this record, it’s essentially just you and the guitar. Why did you choose that approach?

A big part of it was the pandemic and wanting to be safe and responsible, and not add to the problem of people getting sick and dying. It made me want to set up a session like this. And the other thing was, I wanted the listeners to not have anything in the way, and to let the words sink in. I have some extremely talented friends and folks that I’m around that are incredible at their instruments, but instead of picking up the phone and calling them, which was very tempting, I just said, you know, let me sit down with a guitar and sing these truths. Sing them in a way that means something to me and see if that translates.

“Young, Black and Beautiful,” feels like an encore to me. You’re closing the album with a message of encouragement, and I think the strength of your voice is part of that, too. Why did you want to end the album with that song?

The song in general was inspired by reading a friend’s Instagram post. She was talking about her Black son and how he was getting to the age that instead of folks on the street saying, “He’s so cute,” it’s turning into folks feeling threatened by him. That got me thinking about my own history, and what happens in that pivotal moment as a Black child that people are starting to look at you differently. You start hearing doors lock and you see purses clenched, and people walking to the other side of the street.

I wanted to offer something that went along the lines of the old term from the ‘60s, that Black is beautiful. It doesn’t mean that other things are not beautiful! It’s just a reminder that Black is beautiful. It’s about Black self-love, and I feel like it’s a song that I have benefitted from hearing when I was that age. I also wanted it to feel like an anthem that people could sing along to.

And at the end, I wanted to hold the word “Black” as long as I could, to give an example that you should never be ashamed of your Blackness. Sing it loud! And give folks as many examples as you can of your authentic self. And walk on through all these things that you’ve experienced, and that I’ve experienced, and find a new purpose in each days, knowing that your authenticity makes you beautiful.


Photo credit: Mathieu Bitton