Tag: Dave Cobb

Georgia on His Mind: A Conversation with Brent Cobb

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Georgia-born Brent Cobb doesn’t run from his roots. The singer/songwriter, a cousin to well-known Americana producer Dave Cobb, includes bits from his hometown and his upbringing throughout his latest full-length, Shine on Rainy Day. But this isn’t an album about a homebody or a good ol’ boy pining for old times. Rather, the record balances the comforts of homes and hometowns with the forward-moving momentum of life on the road. Songs like “Country Bound,” a number Brent borrowed from his father Patrick Cobb, is a homesick number, while “Traveling Poor Boy” shows off Cobb’s troubadour side. Shine on Rainy Day is a record for listeners with those same sensibilities, appealing to homesickness and travel and loss with an enduring message that urges its audience to see past current hardships.

Let’s start off with something basic: Can you tell me about growing up with music — your first experiences starting to write songs and also seeing songs written?

Yeah, I can still remember the first song I ever wrote … I don't know if you want to hear about that …

I do!

It was about rocks.

[Laughs]

It was walking around through the iron ore pits at my grandmother's house with my little sister. We were collecting iron ore rocks and it was a song about collecting rocks. It was "Millions and Billions and Jillions of Rocks," that was the name of my first song. [Laughs] I was 8 or 9. We just had picking parties — family picking parties and everybody played, and everybody wrote, and everybody sang.

Just to let you know what level it went to … In ’92, my dad had the opportunity — Doug Stone flew him to Nashville and took him around to a lot of publishers and with agents and record labels — and my dad was going to sign with Giant Records. He wound up not doing it because I was 7 and my sister was 3, and they kept talking about how much he would be gone on the road. So he decided to stay local, stay regional, and just play on weekends. I just always grew up around music. It was accepted as a trade and a career in my family.

“Country Bound” was the first song that I ever witnessed being written. I was 5, and we were in Cleveland, Ohio, for Christmas with my mama's folk. I was seeing snow for the first time out the window and then I would turn around and my dad and my uncle were writing "Country Bound." I remember them like it was yesterday writing "Country Bound." Every year on Thanksgiving, when my aunts and uncles would come into Georgia from Cleveland, we'd always play "Country Bound." I wanted to include it on this album because it's always been my favorite song. This album sort of has a theme of getting back home a little bit to it.

I really noticed that theme of getting back home. I know Dave Cobb produced this record, and you guys are related and you’d worked together before. How did this specific record come about?

After he moved to Nashville, we'd get together here and there and we always were just like, "Someday we'll do a record here." I toured for about four years — did 120 dates a year — and I stopped when I found out that I was fixin’ to have my first baby. I had a little baby girl, and so I took an indefinite amount of time off the road, and didn't know if I'd ever go back to making records as an artist or if I'd continue to just write songs.

In the middle of this break, Dave called me and he was making Southern Family. He said "Man, I'm putting together a concept album called Southern Family and I only thought it'd be appropriate for me to have my own Southern family be a part of the record, if you would write a song for it." And I was like, "Hell, yeah, I'll do that! That'd be great!" And so I wrote a song for Southern Family called "Down Home." I also helped … I was fortunate enough to write Miranda Lambert's song with her in "Sweet By and By."

When we were in the studio recording both of these songs, it just felt so good to be back in there with Dave. It just felt like home, and we knew that we had to make a record, but we didn't know that it was going to turn into all of this and I was going to do a deal with him or anything.

He produces like the way that I think I write. I write real spontaneously, and I write off of the muse of a moment. He's the same way as a producer. When he says something doesn't feel right, he doesn't mean technically it doesn't feel right; he means in his heart it doesn't feel right. And that's the way that I am when I write songs. It just magically happens.

Tell me a little bit more about writing songs. You’ve got the one song on the record, “Solving Problems,” that digs into the songwriting portion of your career. I think there is an interesting dynamic between this idea of being an artist versus being a songwriter when really, songwriting is an art.

I know! I never knew there was a difference! I thought they were all one and the same. But apparently, that's the first question that every publisher asks on Music Row. When I first went down there and I was checking on getting a publishing deal, they asked, "Are you more of a writer or are you more of an artist?" I just didn't know it was that different, really. And I guess it's because I like to do both — performing and writing — so much. Some people don't like the idea of going to Music Row and and co-writing in a publishing house, but I love it.

What is it that you like about it?

Well, I'll just tell you what my day is, so you can get an idea of what it's like: I get up at 6:30 with my baby and I drink coffee, and my wife gets home from work. I go in to write about 9 or so in the morning. I write till 3 o'clock in the afternoon with someone, whether it’s a co-writer or my publisher schedules a writer with me. While we write, we treat it like a regular job. It’s so cool to me because of the history of Music Row. If you read Willie Nelson's memoir — It's a Long Story is the name of it — he talks about writing "Hello Walls." That was the first song that he ever co-wrote on Music Row, and he just thought that it was such a strange feeling walking in there and not knowing a person and having to write these personal songs.

It is like that, but once you get used to it, it just becomes so much fun. It's just a bunch of collaboration … It's the best job in the world. I'm just glad to have it.

What made you decide to talk about it in “Solving Problems?”

I didn't have nothing else to write that day. [Laughs] That's the God's honest truth. I couldn't make anything else come, so … It's like, "Well, man, let's just write about exactly what we're doing right here." It's cool to be on Music Row writing songs about being on Music Row writing a song.

Speaking of co-writes, I would love to talk about "Shine on Rainy Day." That song appeared on Andrew Combs' record, and it says so much about the strength of the song that you guys can both make it your own. The title is different and I'd love to hear about why you decided to make that the title track of the album and what that song means specifically to you.

For me, that song meant a lot of things, really. It was coming from a lot of different places, so it's kind of hard to say. When you're going through a tough time, it takes a tough time to get to the end of that. When a thunderstorm comes up and the lightning strikes and it cleans the air, the next day the air is crisper, and the sky is bluer, and the trees are greener, and the grass is greener. After a storm passes, things are just better. They're new again. So that's what that meant for me, and it was from the last 10 years trying to pursue this career. Just like anything, it's got its ups and downs and it gets tough sometimes. So it's really about that for me.

I love that Andrew did it, as well. In the past, there'd be five or six different versions of the same song. I don't know how many different versions of "Sunday Morning Comin' Down" there are, but there are a ton of them that were all made back then. I love when a bunch of different artists do a song and I wish that would come back. I don't know why it doesn't exist as much anymore.

I named the album Shine on Rainy Day because I had given a pre-copy of the album to a close friend of mine, when he and his wife had just gone through a very personal family tragedy. That song was the one that really stuck out to him. It just really inspired me to name the album after it.

You write a lot about Georgia. I recognize landmarks and highways in the lyrics. How much of this was influenced by where you’re from and the idea of home?

I grew up in real rural Georgia, the southwest side of Georgia. It’s the surroundings, the wildlife, the pine trees, the red clay. It's the people down there. Growing up, you couldn't buy beer on Sundays. People are a little more cut off from the rest of the world. Their traditions and their ways — and mine, too — they're a little more old school. Everything's got a routine to it. It's just like reading a book that's been around forever. I don't know how to explain it. It's just something I've always noticed, too, and I've always studied. I guess it was a mixture of those surroundings and that environment, but then also with my family, too, being musical. I just love Georgia.

Photo credit: Don VanCleave

Mary Chapin Carpenter: Residing within the Questions

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It’s been said with age comes wisdom, but for Mary Chapin Carpenter, it’s more likely to deliver questions. Where wisdom does arise for the now 58-year-old singer/songwriter is in living with them, rather than thinking answers offer any absolute understanding. “I think the questions are far more important than any answers,” she says. “Our job is to pose the questions and provoke each other to think about these things.” Carpenter has long exhibited an inquisitive nature, her music serving as the conduit for explorations both internal and external, but don’t expect her new album, The Things We Are Made Of, to provide shining pearls of knowledge. Instead, she remains content residing in the unknown. “I don’t know if I would describe anything as a lesson,” she says about her new music, “because that conjures up the idea that there was some kind of reckoning, in a way.”

Carpenter’s conversation contains a measured quality as she seeks to connect the shapelessness of thought with the structure of language, so that nothing gets lost in translation. Words, after all, don’t always naturally comprise the meaning that manifests internally. Based on the care and consideration she brings to her everyday speech, it’s easy to draw parallels to her writing process. Carpenter has long been a striking lyricist, her ability to capture phrases earning her five Grammys and 15 total nominations, among many other industry accolades.

Discussing how she approached songwriting, Carpenter explains reaching a place where she, quite simply, tried to get out of her own way. “It was a very gradual sense of trying to be as un-self-conscious in writing as possible, and to feel as open to the world as possible. I think that inspiration is everywhere you look, and you have to be open to it, let it sort of filter in.” As freeing as that openness sounds, it also involves uncertainty. To be open to an experience arguably means discarding any expectations or control attached to it.

In the album’s first song, “Something Tamed Something Wild,” Carpenter explores relinquishing control and enjoying the journey, rather than the destination, as a result. It’s a sentiment long-touted to an increasingly frenzied and fast-paced population, but under Carpenter’s care, her lyrics do what they do best: evoke a remarkable level of honesty. “So the things that matter to me now are different from the past / I care less about arriving and just being in the path / Of some light carved out of nothing / The way it feels when the universe has smiled,” she sings, breaking beyond the meter while the melody and rhythm hold tight. As a result, the platitude’s original meaning takes on refreshing perspective grounded from her subjective experience.

Carpenter also plays with the chorus throughout the song, revealing the heart’s complexities: Treasures become lessons become echoes become voices become love. She creates a space where juxtaposing forces exist within the same moment, which finds its culmination in the chorus’s final line, “Something tamed, something wild.” That phrase, perhaps, pushes against the cultural tendency to position people — but, really, women — in either/or spaces. To be both tamed and wild moves beyond a restrictive dichotomy to rest in the messiness that living entails and further emphasizes what she offers as a songwriter.

Carpenter admits, “I’ve never in my life felt limited by anything other than myself,” but that doesn’t mean her own experience blinds her to what takes place all around her. “I’m fully aware that, in our culture and in our society, there are myriad limits and boundaries and ridiculous glass ceilings and etiquettes from top to bottom,” she says. “I know those things exist. Maybe I’ve gotten myself in trouble here and there by either ignoring them or mouthing off about them or whatever it is. I see something that says you can’t be a certain way, and it just makes me want to be that certain way.” Any conscious pushback on her part derived from her refusal to be silenced by what others might think. Of course, Carpenter shares, there have been negative letters and comments and opinions, but that hasn’t made her rethink her approach to songwriting. “Life’s too short to not say what you feel. Your voice is your voice; it’s all we have. To even contemplate not using it … I can’t even contemplate it,” she says earnestly, her dusky timbre expressing an assuredness that only comes from someone comfortable in her own skin.

Aging — especially reaching an age where society tends to look away — manifests thematically on her new album. But, again, she refuses to take any experience at face value. Carpenter says about the current youth-obsessed culture, “When you get to this place in life, it emphasizes loss and the things that you no longer have, and I feel like that is not digging deep enough.” The album’s second song, “The Middle Ages,” touches upon the surprise of finding yourself older, as well as the questions that follow. Carpenter turns what at first could come across as a melancholy reaction into a celebration. “And way back in the back of your mind, you heard something getting through / Like some beautiful passage without words welcoming you / To the middle ages,” she sings, the song’s lead guitar producing a lighter melodic layer to contrast her deeper vocals.

Carpenter exhibits a sense of pride discussing the years she’s achieved, turning to one of her favorite philosophers, G. K. Chesterton. If ever she can’t hit upon the meaning using her own words, she’s more than comfortable leaning into someone else who has influenced her. Chesterton is one in a series of references that pepper her conversation. “He talked about how, when you’re young and something bad happens, it often can feel like the end of the world,” she explains, “but when you’re older, he says, ‘The soul survives its adventures.’ It’s that great inspiration that comes to people who are middle-aged. You don’t care as much what people think. There’s so much freedom in that; there’s so much autonomy. You have a greater sense of purpose, you have a greater sense of control over your own life, you realize how important personal growth is, having these experiences that challenge you to think about yourself.”

If it wasn’t clear already, Carpenter is an avid reader, her mind stacked full of stories, poems, authors, and more — each of which has helped her face that challenge of self-discovery and each containing an important message clarifying the experience of being alive. My Name Is Lucy Barton by Elizabeth Straught is one such book. In it, a writing instructor character says, according to Carpenter, “Each one of us, we only have one story. And you’re going to write that story a thousand different ways. Don’t ever worry about your story; you only have one.” She found it applicable to her craft. “When I read that, what it made me feel like is, ‘Yes, I have one story and the songs are the ways I write it a thousand different ways,’ she says. “That’s what they represent.”

For Carpenter, the telling has naturally changed as she’s gotten older, but she doesn’t recognize age as a limit, nor should she. The prolific songwriter has put out 14 albums, infusing each with a degree of thought that not only makes her an important voice but a necessary one. It’s a point she sees reflected in her fellow musicians. She says, “I love how vehement Lucinda Williams, an old friend and someone I admire so much, is. She was talking recently in an article and she makes no bones about saying, ‘I’m doing the best work I’ve ever done.’ For her to say that without apology is so wonderful, so refreshing. Shout it from the mountaintops!”

While she takes a more modest tone when discussing her own work, it’s clear she’s proud of The Things We Are Made Of, but also the new direction in which it pushed her. She partnered with producer Dave Cobb (Jason Isbell, Chris Stapleton, Lake Street Dive) for the first time. “As you can imagine it was terrifying to show up and you’ve never worked with someone before,” she says. “You’re putting yourself in their hands.” Curiously, Cobb did not want to hear her songs ahead of time. In the end, his process allowed Carpenter’s voice to shine through without weighing it down with unnecessary instrumentation or overproduction. “He wanted to be as responsive in an immediate way as possible,” she explains. “I didn’t know what to make of it.”

She adds, “He really pushed me to do certain things, but he freed me up, as well. I trusted him. It was a wonderful, wonderful experience.”

With yet another album to her name, Carpenter continues to serve as a kind of contemporary philosopher, mining questions for what they offer in and of themselves, rather than seeking answers from the very start. Hers is neither a naïve nor a quixotic outlook, but one willing to view all experiences — both good and bad — with a degree of curiosity that only benefits the recipients of what she’s learned and is learning. Referencing yet another meaningful figure in her life, Sir George Martin, she says, “One of his favorite things that he used to say is that, ‘Age is a thing you have to live with, if you’re lucky.’ If we’re lucky enough to reach this point in time, we get to be the beneficiaries of this wisdom that can only come with reaching this point and time. I think that’s a big thing.”

Lede illustration by Cat Ferraz.

The 2016 Americana Music Awards Winners

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The 15th annual Americana Music Association Honors & Awards Show happened last night at Nashville’s famed Ryman Auditorium. Led by host Jim Lauderdale, the festivities honored Bob Weir, Shawn Colvin, Billy Bragg, William Bell, and Lauderdale with Lifetime Achievement Awards.

Each of those recipients also performed, along with Rodney Crowell, Steve Earle, Emmylou Harris, Jason Isbell, Nitty Gritty Dirt Band, Bonnie Raitt, George Strait, Alison Krauss, and quite a many more backed by a Buddy Miller-led house band. Presenters include Jack Ingram, Timothy B. Schmit, Taylor Goldsmith, Wynonna Judd, the Indigo Girls, Bruce Hornsby, and Joe Henry.

Winners are in bold.

Album of the Year
Something More Than Free — Jason Isbell, Produced by Dave Cobb
The Ghosts of Highway 20 — Lucinda Williams, Produced by Greg Leisz, Tom Overby, and Lucinda Williams
The Very Last Day — Parker Millsap, Produced by Parker Millsap and Gary Paczosa
Traveller — Chris Stapleton, Produced by Dave Cobb and Chris Stapleton

Song of the Year
"24 Frames" — Jason Isbell, Written by Jason Isbell
"Dime Store Cowgirl" — Kacey Musgraves, Written by Kacey Musgraves, Luke Laird, and Shane McAnally
"Hands of Time" — Margo Price, Written by Margo Price
"S.O.B." — Nathaniel Rateliff & the Nightsweats, Written by Nathaniel Rateliff

Artist of the Year
Jason Isbell
Bonnie Raitt
Chris Stapleton
Lucinda Williams

Duo/Group of the Year
Alabama Shakes
Emmylou Harris & Rodney Crowell
Lake Street Dive
The Milk Carton Kids
Tedeschi Trucks Band

Emerging Artist of the Year
Leon Bridges
John Moreland
Margo Price
Nathaniel Rateliff & the Night Sweats

Instrumentalist of the Year
Cindy Cashdollar
Stuart Duncan
Jedd Hughes
Sara Watkins

The Color of Thunder: A Conversation with Amanda Shires

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It's hard to describe Amanda Shires, as a person or an artist. There's just something about her that floats above and beyond categorization and calculation. Perhaps it's the poet in her that tilts and colors her worldview into a magical, mystical joyride full of life, love, and the pursuit of happiness. Her last release, Down Fell the Doves, is a staggeringly wonderful collection of songs that attempt to capture and convey that joyride with quirky lyrics and unexpected melodies. This year, Shires follows that work up with My Piece of Land. Produced by Dave Cobb, the beautiful new album was written and recorded right as Shires was gearing up to have her first baby with husband (and, now, co-writer) Jason Isbell. In true Shires fashion, it's brimming with wonder.

So … you had a bunch of songs written, then you killed your laptop.

Yes! How did you remember that?

I don't know. I have this weird Rain Man thing. I just remember stuff. So, what do you think was in there that the world couldn't handle hearing?

[Laughs] There was one little tiny part of something that I had … I had part of “Harmless” from that laptop because I'd printed out an early draft of it. I don't know why, maybe just to look at it differently because I couldn't finish it. That's the only thing I had from that batch.

Hmmm. I always look at these things karmically: There's a reason everything happens. So, for whatever reason, the world wasn't meant to hear those songs.

Maybe they were all rap songs.

Maybe. We'll never know. So you had to press on from there. In the last few months of pregnancy, you started over.

Yeah. I was on the road up until July 5 or 6, flying on planes and traveling that way. I still played some shows around Nashville, but I was at home so much and I like being busy. I ran out of things to do. I did all the things you can think of to prepare for a baby … nesting and cleaning stuff up. I even have posters and stuff in the garage, from that time of making stuff organized. Then, after that, I just started writing. I got five songs or so in, and I called Dave and we scheduled it.

Was it a given that you were going to work with him or did you make him earn it?

[Laughs] I just thought, “I hope he says 'yes.' I hope he has time.” He had both of those things, so I was lucky to have him.

In the middle of all that, you were working on your degree [a master's in creative writing]. Is that all finished up now?

Nope. I'm working on my thesis. I asked for an extension, when I played in Chattanooga, from the stage. [Laughs]

[Laughs] It was granted, I take it.

Yes. They're nice folks over there.

I thought I would have time to finish it all. I didn't know anything about babies. I didn't know they wake up every two hours, then every three hours, and four hours. Now, I'm getting to a place where I'll have time.

Writing poetry and writing songs … the two aren't as interchangeable some, including a certain character on Nashville, might have us believe, right? They are very different forms.

Yeah. Very different. In songwriting, you have the musical setting which helps you dictate what your song's going to be or what mood it's going to be. With poetry, you don't have that. You have just the page. You have to get everything across without music. It's very different. You have waltzes and shuffles and all these kinds of rock 'n' roll songs. Then, poems, you can write in different meters and different structures. The lens is way smaller. The lens is very small with poetry.

That's an interesting way to look at it. Words have rhythms and beats and cadences, but folding in the extra layer of music puts it in a different realm. I feel like many of my favorite songwriters are also poets, whether they started there or not.

There are a lot of elements that are the same, that cross over. Like sonnets and rhyming, although poems also don't have to rhyme. But, in a song, you gotta have some rhymes. You really do. It's important. Especially for memorizing, I guess. Then you have all the other poetical things that go into songs, too, your similes, metaphors, allegories … all that stuff can apply.

I feel like it's songwriter-poets who more often land lines that stop me in my tracks. You have some moments like that, throughout your discography. My favorite on this record is “Your eyes a shade of wonder, like if thunder had a color.” That's crazy!

Awww. Well, that's a high compliment. When you're trying to describe something, it's best to just be yourself and describe it. If I said that in a conversation, people might think it sounded really crazy, like “What are you talking about?! That's not how we're communicating here.” But I can't just sing, in that song, “Kind of greenish, greyish, blueish, purpleish right now.” [Laughs]

[Laughs] “And with a certain hazy light.”

Yeah. And then with the implication of what that color does to you or how that moment kind of rocks you a little bit … like thunder.

Do lines like that catch you off-guard or do you go hunting them? How do those things come for you?

For me, it comes in my mind like a picture. I'm sitting here thinking and trying to describe something. I write everything down and there's a picture that just says it.

Alright. You have a little cosmic thing going on. I like it.

[Laughs] It's like an imagery thing. In my mind, there's an image of this setting. I don't know. It just comes like a poem or picture might look.

I get it. “Pale Fire” lays me down, too. It reminds me a bit of old-school, classic Ani DiFranco. She was a poet and a dancer before she fell into music. I don't know. There's something about that.

That one, I'm really proud of, for a different reason. I have two co-writes on this record — “Pale Fire” is one and “My Love (The Storm)” is the other. Both of those mean something to me because they were successful co-writes with Jason. By “successful,” I mean successful in the fact that we were able to talk about pretty deep things and create something together without either of us suffering. We didn't have to sacrifice anything when we were writing. We both got to communicate the way we wanted to without having to give up too much of our own preferences.

And that is a big deal. You're both great writers, but with different styles.

And, also, we haven't explored that a lot. It was a really good experience. You hear all these horror stories about co-writing.

I love seeing the two of you guys on stage together, seeing your love and your relationship … the dynamic of it. It's also very sweet and special seeing how you guys interact with the world. You're very open, posting photos and what not. It endears you to your fans on such a deep level. He and I have talked about it, but what's your thinking on living out loud in the way you two do?

My thinking is that it's easier to get through the world when you have other people who are sharing their experiences, too, I guess. When you are open, it gives people a chance to know what they're getting into. If you follow me or follow him, more than likely, we have the same views of the world. Then, if you're sharing stuff, it makes the world feel more connected … connected in the bigger sense, like we're all going through all this stuff at the same time.

That's one of the greatest things about social media and why it's been so successful: All any of us want is to be connected.

Yeah. Yeah.

Even if it's in crappy, trolling ways. [Laughs]

[Laughs] Yeah. It's the shared human experience.

Absolutely.

Also, it keeps you from going to a show and getting the kind of people who are there for the wrong reasons. [Laughs]

[Laughs] That was Jason's thing. He wants people coming to his shows to know who he is, to know where the songs are coming from so, like you said, hopefully there's some kinship there.

Yeah. So, when you get into a room and voice your opinions, you're not getting booed at.

Or you still might, but at least it'll be for the right reasons. [Laughs]

[Laughs] Yeah. Exactly.

Even though those are the first songs you guys wrote together, I hear “You Are My Home” as an answer to “Cover Me Up” and “Flagship.” Is that about right?

I don't think it's an answer to it. I mean, it could be taken that way. I can see that. But I feel like that song, for me, being pregnant, I was having to think about a lot of things … like hormones make you do. You have all these joyful things and all this hope. Then you have these dips where you have questions like, “Are we going to make it? Because we need to make it for this child, at least. How does that look? What is 'home' exactly if we're going to be traveling all the time and sometimes not seeing each other?”

Then there's the inherited sense of home that we all have from our own childhoods. It was, in a way, coming to realize that what you've inherited from your childhood is not the same as the home it is that you make for yourself. So, in that song, I wrote it trying to explore what it was I was feeling. And, I guess, realizing that home didn't mean just this place where we live together — the house and the stuff that's in the house. It's the person who, really, is my home … that no matter where we were, where we lived, if we're on the road together or not together, in my mind, my home is with Jason and with Mercy. It doesn't matter where it is. It can be any town. We can call every town our home.

It's a state of mind … or a state of heart, I guess.

Yeah. A state of heart, more accurately, for sure.

So, a year in, what has little Mercy Rose taught you that you didn't know before? Besides the fact that babies don't sleep.

Now, she sleeps from 9:30 pm to 9:30 am. It's awesome! She's been doing that since she was about six months old.

It's given me a fresher outlook on the world. Everything is wonderful to look at. It's psychedelic. You're seeing everything like a psychedelic trip or something. You start looking at the grass again and being amazed by it. We watch her be amazed by her own hands. It's hilarious. It's hilarious and it's gross and it's awesome, all at the same time. [Laughs]

[Laughs] Okay. Last question …

Really?! Already?!

I mean, we can keep yakking …

I didn't even know I answered any.

Yeah. You got a few in there. So, I don't know who Maria is, but she has a couple of scenes in this thing.

She's a real person.

Can we make “some sad Maria” … is that going to be the new “Becky with the good hair”? Can we get that kind of traction on this thing?

[Laughs] Maybe!

[Laughs] I think t-shirts are a must.

[Laughs] That's awesome! I actually need to call Maria and tell her that her name is on the record.

Several times. Girls are going to be trying to kiss her in alleys now.

Oh … that happens sometimes.

Photo credit: Josh Wool

Whiskey Myers, ‘Mud’

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Texas-born Whiskey Myers hasn't formally released a record since 2014's Early Morning Shakes, but you wouldn't know it by their following: The group has doggedly continued touring and performing, and their forthcoming full-length, MUD, is nothing if not a testament to the work they've put in outside the studio. The album was produced by Dave Cobb, Nashville's latest household name and the producer behind hits from Jason Isbell and Chris Stapleton, and it bears the same reverence to the live setting and the recording space that have lent his recent slam-dunk releases an authentic edge. By now, too, the five-piece has honed in on a down-home rock 'n' roll sound — while nurturing the country and roots influences that built them — and the album varies richly between songs.

What the songs on MUD do have in common is a quality that lends them to dialing up the volume: "On the River" holds a torch for bluegrass influences without leaving behind the group's hard-rocking persona, while "Good Ole Days" sounds like the product of a bunch of buddies singing along to an off-the-cuff jam in the kitchen. But the title track leaves country music on the backburner in favor of heavy riffs and anthemic delivery. It's the kind of sound you'd pick out for a walk-up song — whether that walk is over to home plate at a blazing hot baseball game or across the room to the jukebox. The number closes out with a chorus of "ohs" that feels more like a rock-tinged battle cry, fearlessly chanting through the melody and capitalizing on a well-honed rougher side for these booze-soaked Southern rockers.

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Still Humble and Always Kind: An Interview with Lori McKenna

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Of Lori McKenna's debut album, Paper Wings & Halo, an AllMusic.com critic so many years ago — that would be me — wrote, “From McKenna's pen flow timeless, heart-grabbing melodic lines and psyche-splintering stanzas. … If this album is any kind of signpost, look for McKenna's light to be shining bright for a long while to come.” All these many years later, her light is, indeed, shining bright — on the Billboard country charts, at the Grammy Awards, and, now, on her 10th solo record, The Bird & the Rifle. Produced by Americana master Dave Cobb, the new collection is utterly captivating, filled with everything we've come to expect from McKenna — glimpses of real life and real love laid bare in profound and poetic, stark and stunning detail.

Because I go all the way back to Paper Wings & Halo with you …

WOW!

Yeah. So I've been thrilled to watch your ascent over the years. How are you processing it all? Does it ever really sink in — everything that's happened in the past 15 years?

I don't ever really get to a point where it doesn't amaze me how lucky I am in this career. As soon as I start getting complacent with “Am I doing enough?” something appears. I don't know why I'm as lucky as I am, other than the fact that, as I would say to my kids, it's because I keep trying. The thing about music is, there's always more to learn. There's always a better song to write. You always hear a better song that you wish you wrote. And it's changing all the time. So I go to bed a lot and think, “Shit, I'm lucky!” [Laughs]

[Laughs] Do you feel like songwriting and other talents like that are inherent gifts that we can't really take credit for? I mean, sure, you can work to perfect the craft around it, but without those seeds …

I do think there's a weird thing that happens sometimes where … like “Humble and Kind,” for example: The chorus, when I looked back on it, I thought, “Man, I really lucked out.” [Laughs] It's better than I think I knew how to do it, to be honest. Also, the hook on “The Bird & the Rifle” … I was in the shower the night before we wrote it, thinking, “What if you just said, 'Spreading her wings always brings the rifle out in him'? Maybe it doesn't land on 'the bird and the rifle.' Maybe that's not the hook.” That was just pure luck and thinking about something long enough. I don't want to be weird and say “the songwriting gods and all that come down.” And who am I to have any gods pay attention to me? I don't know. Sometimes, you do look back and say, “That turned out better than I think I know how to have made it.”

So there's some something going on that is bigger than you?

I think so. And I don't know, really, if there's a name for it. Other days, you can try everything and it's like, “Nope. Not happening.” [Laughs]

[Laughs] “Do not pass go.”

Yeah. “Today's not your day.”

At the listening party for this new record, you said something about how you go around checking for melodies in your guitars. That would kind of indicate that you feel like songs are already out there just waiting to be caught … maybe?

I like to stew on little ideas. Those are usually the best ones. If I think about it for a couple of days, then I get to sit down and write it, that's usually when it's formed correctly. But sometimes, you don't know they are there at all. It's funny. I don't know what it is. I think I've purposely tried to not over-think it because you can mess yourself up. There's definitely something going on that isn't concrete, in the process. That's why I always think that songwriting classes, they must be so hard. But, really, if you just keep trying … That sounds like a bad thing to say to somebody who's tried a lot and hasn't gotten where they want, but it's really the only way to do it — just show up.

Right. Over these many years, what has changed for you, in how you approach the job or how you approach songwriting?

It's funny because, originally, I was doing open mics, then I started doing shows, then I put out a couple records … that was all where my world was, “My wife does this thing. She does these shows and it's cool” … [Laughs]

[Laughs] “Humor her. It's fine.”

[Laughs] Yeah, “It's fine. She pays for the groceries, sometimes.” But I think my husband knew that I had to do it. Young moms always say, “Make sure you take care of yourself. Have something for you.” It was always my thing for me. It was like that. It was my hobby for a while. And I made a lot of money at the hobby, now and then. When the Faith [Hill] thing happened, it wasn't like a door opened; it was like a universe opened, because I had never co-written before. I didn't know, really, what a publishing deal was.

You were just this little folkie out of Boston.

Yeah. I kind of wanted to learn about all those things. I knew certain people who had some sort of access to it, but I didn't really know or even know how to figure it out, to be honest. Since then, it's just been one surprising turn after another.

I remember when I got my deal with Warner Bros. We went out to eat at the 99 with the kids. I was like, “Babe, I think I got offered a record deal.” He was like, “What? No way.” [Laughs] We're at a 99 and I'm like, “Should I do this? I feel like I should.” It's always surprised me, in this crazy way. Now, the biggest change is that it's a full-on part of all our lives. My husband knows the business now, to a … I don't know that much, myself, but we know a little bit about it together. Like changing publishers and stuff like that, I can talk to him about it. We're all on the same page as far as “This is what mom does.”

“It's not just her hobby anymore. It's putting you through college.”

That publishing deal opened up the whole thing of writing songs for other people, which was a whole world that I hadn't really explored before. I love that part of it.

There's that part of it and there are your songs. And, then, some songs do double duty — like “Humble and Kind,” which Tim McGraw took to number one, and “Three Kids No Husband,” which is on Brandy Clark's new record. You also said at the party that, if you had a voice like Carrie Underwood's, you would write differently.

That didn't sound bad did it? I was thinking about that after … I love her voice.

No, no, not at all. I'm just curious … would it be bigger melodies? I mean, you would still be you , so you would have the same message.

Yeah. I think my melodies would be bigger. I really think our limitations form our style. I play the guitar the way I play because I can't play the guitar like a great guitar player. But that guitar part might sound like me. And it's my limitations that took me there more than my craft. I think the same is true in writing a song by yourself or writing a song where, that day as a co-writer, you're singing for the day. I write with Hillary Lindsey a lot and she can sing anything and she is really great at melodies. Then, you're co-writing with somebody who can find those big, beautiful melodies that I won't by myself.

I also think, because I like simple songs and my voice lends itself to a simple melody, then the words can't be general words. The words have to be the thing that carries a song. So, I think if I could sing anything, my songs wouldn't be as lyrically driven as they are. Does that make sense?

Totally. I look back to a song like “Don't Tell Her” — which still slays me — and everything that makes you a great songwriter is in there: the attention to detail, the search for intimacy, the spin on the dynamics. In a weird way, that tune is almost like a foreshadowing of or bookend for “Girl Crush.”

OH! That's true, isn't it? I never thought of that … because I always forget about that song. [Laughs] But, when you say it like that, it is a little bit the same story. It's hard to not think of that scenario, when you've been married a long time or in a relationship a long time, because you know the person so well and they know things about you that nobody else does. And you know, if they're going to go somewhere else, this stuff could come up in conversation. [Laughs]

[Laughs] Your secrets aren't safe.

Or even just things that person knows and nobody else knows them. It's not good or bad; it's just a thing. So I think anyone in a long relationship would have that thought process. But that's interesting.

I also think your two woman songs — “All a Woman Wants” and “If Whiskey Were a Woman” — I see those as a pair.

Oh, really?

But here's the thing: Guidebooks? Disclaimers? Statements of fact? How do you see those songs versus how they are received?

“All a Woman Wants,” I think came from a conversation with Gene, my husband, about, “Damn. I'm really kind of easy, here.” [Laughs]

[Laughs] As far as women go …

Yeah. I was talking to a songwriter friend the other night who was like, “I'm getting married and everything's so cool. Am I going to still be able to write? Everything's good right now.” You know, that little bit of fear. I said, “No. All you have to do is take that thought and blow it up, just exaggerate the shit out of it for a little while, for three-and-a-half-minutes, and you'll have a song.” [Laughs]

That's really what it was. I remember kidding around with him, like, “Dude. I am easy. I have like three things!” When you start picking it apart, most women just really want to feel like they are your everything. I got in trouble for that song, though. A couple of people were like, “How do you know what I want?”

“I do want the diamonds!” [Laughs] “Drip me, baby!”

[Laughs] Yes! But the fact that he wants you to have them … My neighbor came up and said, “I love that line!” Gene didn't understand it. I had to explain it to him! [Laughs] I did! He was like, “What's that diamond thing?” I was like, “Listen to it! I think it's kind of clear. Come on, pay attention!”

“If Whiskey Were a Woman” is that same thing, I guess, in the way that he wants something. It's like, “Oh, I can't do that.”

[Laughs] “So go have a drink, buster.”

[Laughs] Yeah, yeah. “You won't let me do that, so …” That's so interesting, the way you think of it. I love it!

What would the perfect career look like for you? Do you have it?

I think so, yeah. People ask me sometimes, as far as the two separate categories of songs, “How do you do that?” I guess they want to know, logistically, if I think of it this way or if I write about myself, usually it's in this category. Sometimes not. But it hasn't bothered me that there are those two things. I've really enjoyed having those two things.

For a while, I started picking it apart and thinking … I don't like leaving home, to be honest. I like songwriting best. That's my favorite part. I like singing. I like playing. I like standing in front of people. But I don't love all that, as much as I just want to be able to write a great song. I want people to hear them. But I have this thing where I don't necessarily have to sing them — other people, every now and then, will sing them. And that still makes me feel great, so maybe I should just write for other people. I kind of did that, during Numbered Doors — I had that mentality of “I'm not going to travel for shows. I'm going to travel for writing because that's my favorite part.” It didn't work. It wasn't going to crash land … yet. But it would've, eventually.

Then my publishing deal came up and I started talking to Beth Laird [of Creative Nation]. Every other publisher, when I was like, “What about my artist side?” They were like, “You can do whatever you want.” But Beth was like, “Hey, what about your artist side? I think that's an important piece. I think that makes you a better writer.” So I needed that little selfish part to be like I want to write the best song for my little project. I don't know what it does to me, but it's really important to me. And I didn't know that. I was maybe starting to think it or maybe starting to lose it. It was going to go one way or the other. Then Beth came in and sparked that, again, in me. And my friends probably would have, eventually … like Barry Dean is really perceptive about what I need, as a creator, and what is helpful. Other people cutting my songs was something I never thought was possible. The fact that I get to do both is amazing.

Dreams do come true.

Even if you hadn't dreamed them! [Laughs] I wouldn't have thought, “Oh, I want this!” That was another thing Beth said to me, when I first started talking about signing with them. She's a goal person – like, “Write down these goals.” I've heard that a bunch of times, but I could never say out loud certain things … like, “I want to be a songwriter.” That sounds crazy! She taught me, and I remember talking to her one day and I was like, “Well, I want a Grammy.” How cocky is that?! [Laughs] I said that out loud!

[Laughs] And … SHA-ZAM!

When that all happened, I was like, “Beth! What did you do?!?!” [Laughs]

[Laughs] What kind of voodoo is going on down there?

Everybody write your goals down! It's incredible! [Laughs]

Photo credit: Becky Fluke

Gig Bag: Brett Dennen

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Welcome to Gig Bag, a BGS feature that peeks into the touring essentials of some of our favorite artists. This time around, Brett Dennen gives us a look at what he has to have handy when he's out on the road.

Brett Dennen is something of a road warrior. A fixture on the festival circuit since releasing his self-titled debut album in 2004 (as well as his breakout record, So Much More, in 2006), the northern California singer/songwriter has likely earned a sizeable portion of his legions of fans at his own lively headlining shows and through opening slots for folks like John Mayer and the Avett Brothers. 

Now, Dennen is about to hit the road again, this time in support of his brand new album, Por Favor. Helmed by Americana super-producer Dave Cobb, the album shows Dennen at his most vulnerable, both lyrically and sonically. "I think the songwriting is top-notch, compared to my previous work," Dennen says. "The depth is subtle. The melodies flow easily and everything feels peaceful. I'm most excited about the rootsy feel of it. It's natural. Nothing is forced." 

Dennen and Cobb recorded the album in Nashville, with Cobb's quick, no-BS approach to recording setting the tone. "[It was] fun. And fast," Dennen says of working with Cobb. "There's no bullshit with him. He doesn't like to do any second guessing."

The new tunes are road-ready, too. "We'll play them pretty much the same way they are on the record," Dennen explains. "At least right now. Maybe by the end of the tour, we'll work up some jams."

Check out what Dennen carries in his Gig Bag, and peruse his tour dates here.

Coconut oil: For multiple uses. I rinse with it in the AM (oil pulling), I eat it, put it in my hair, use it as sunblock, and as moisturizer. 

My knife: My girlfriend gave it to me. I'm a pocket knife guy. So is my dad. 

NutriBullet: I use it multiple times a day, mostly for smoothies. I get a lot of vegetables on my hospitality rider, so I blend them all up and drink them. It's much easier than chewing. 

 

 
 

Dear Chris Stapleton

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From: Patrick Haynes
To: Chris Stapleton
Date: Monday, April 4, 2016 at 11:44 AM
Subject: write?

Hey man!

How’s it going, Chris? I’m in Nashville for a few weeks visiting from L.A. to see if I want to pursue songwriting full-time. I’ve been busking outside the bars on Division trying to meet some fellow troubadours, earn a few bucks, and score pub deals. I got some weird looks for setting up my iPad and Square inside my guitar case, even though that’s how most of us West Coast songwriters and bums get paid nowadays.

Anyway, I’ve been asking around town to see who’s hot these days and your name keeps coming up. You’re definitely at the top of my list of people I want to connect with while I’m in town, so I wanted to see how your schedule looks the next couple weeks. I bet if we got together in a room for an afternoon, we could knock out a huge hit.

A little about me: My style is a bit Sheena Easton meets Skrillex, with a dash of New Jack Swing for good measure. My mom sang at church and my dad was always playing the radio in the car, so I come from a very rich musical background. I definitely want to get into country music — Kid Rock and Hootie were formative influences on my songwriting.

Oh, and I have a beard and a hat that’s never been washed, too! Great minds, right? 

And, hey, Chris, if you don’t have time this week to schedule a co-write with me, maybe we can just grab a beer with Dave. Would love an intro. What’s your cell?

All warms,
p.

The above is a work of satire. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental … although entirely likely.

Photo courtesy of Chris Stapleton

The Cream of Four Crops: A Conversation with Lake Street Dive’s Mike “McDuck” Olson

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Lake Street Dive rather famously borrows a little bit from a lot of things. At times exuding an old school R&B vibe, at others a bright pop sound, their music is equal parts the Beatles and Motown, with a bit of brassy big band thrown in for good measure. Where that kind of uncategorized approach might sound messy — even noisy — under another band’s thumb, Lake Street Dive doesn’t lose track of their identity, even as they pepper it with myriad influences.

The classically trained four-piece includes guitarist and trumpeter Mike “McDuck” Olson, upright bassist Bridget Kearney, drummer Mike Calabrese, and vocalist Rachael Price, whose bluesy alto grounds whatever musical path the band explores. Lake Street Dive is set to release their third studio album and Nonesuch Records debut,  Side Pony,  on February 19. Produced by Dave Cobb (Jason Isbell, Sturgill Simpson), the album involves new risks — like challenging time signatures — alongside the jazzy approach to pop the band has played heretofore. It’s a step forward for the band but, as Olson explains, not a new direction.

I’ve got to ask: Where does the nickname “McDuck” come from?

Oh, it’s an old college nickname. I had mono when I moved into the dorms [at the New England Conservatory of Music] my first year, so instead of being friendly and looking to make new friends like Mike Calabrese was, I told everyone to go away and leave me alone while I got better. I earned the nickname "Scrooge McDuck." Fortunately, the McDuck is the only part that stuck.

Stephen Colbert took a liking to your sound when he hosted The Colbert Report, and he recently invited you back to play The Late Show . What was it like performing for Colbert again?

It was sort of a double-whammy return because Colbert’s show is in the Ed Sullivan Theater, which is also the theater that Letterman taped out of, so it was cool because it was kind of like playing Colbert on steroids. It was also cool to be back in that theater that we had done the Letterman show in. It had been redecorated, and a lot of the same crew people are still working the show, so it was nice to see some of those guys again. It’s fun, too, because we’re not quite as nervous as we used to get, although we’re not completely immune to it. I’d say that I don’t have the same mind-numbing terror going on TV that we used to when we did the first Colbert taping.

One of Side Pony ’s singles, “Call Off Your Dogs,” shows an interesting approach to meter and rhythm compared to the band’s earlier work. Where are you drawing that inspiration from?

The main riff, which is in 3/4 time, came out of Bridget’s fascination with … it’s sort of two-fold. She spent some time in Africa studying music from Ghana and she studied abroad in Morocco as a college student, combined with a bass player’s innate love of Motown bass lines a la the Jackson 5. The composition, in its first version, was all in 3 and had a trickier rhythmic framework.

Then, when we went into the studio to record it, Dave Cobb didn’t encourage us to stay tricky. He’s someone for whom pop music is candy, and he encouraged us to keep some of the trickier musical elements because that’s interesting for people who are in tune with that, but then say, "Okay, if you’re going to have the tricky 3/4 verses, we gotta go into 4/4 on the choruses." Because that’s what’s going to get people up and dancing — that’s the fist pumping. So it was a combination of this sort of studiousness on Bridget’s part, and kind of the polar opposite lack of studiousness on Dave’s part that made us combine those two elements in the studio.

The way the verses and chorus oscillate back and forth with one another, rhythmically, is so interesting. It took me a second to wrap my head around what was happening when I heard it.

It’s nice, too, because we’ve been playing with the disco thing. On its own, the disco thing is very dated. If you release a song that has a straight-down-the-pike disco feel in the drums and guitar parts, it immediately makes people think, "Oh great, leisure suits, the light-up dance floors." Stuff like that. We were reticent to do something that was so derivative of one specific thing just because we don’t like to pigeonhole ourselves. So to blend something so immediately identifiable as disco with something that’s a little bit more intellectual made us feel better about using both elements in the same song.

Speaking about elements, the band rather famously deals in many sounds and influences. How do you keep everything from becoming too chaotic, either in a song or across an album?

I think part of it is that we aren’t necessarily, you know, we’re not studio musicians. If someone needs a country track or someone needs a disco track or someone needs a straight-up Motown track recorded for someone’s record, they’ll call people who are skillful in recreating those styles faithfully. We just aren’t that good at recreating something verbatim and, fortunately, that has worked in our favor. We have our idiosyncrasies that we, if not fall back on, then are actually very comfortable in. So it’s sort of like we’re filtering all of these omnivorous style dalliances through this far more narrow Lake Street Dive sort of sieve. It’s also what we enjoy doing and what we think is fun, what parts we think are most fun to play, and those end up smoothing out the edges of something that is more rigidly stylistic.

Well, that’s what makes it so interesting. I’ll listen to a song and pick out three or four influences, but under your umbrella as Lake Street Dive, it all comes together in this new way. It isn’t chaotic, but in another band’s hands, it could easily devolve into a mess.

Well, sometimes it feels like a mess, but I’m glad it’s not coming across that way.

In your composing or songwriting process, is it the four of you together banging something out, or does someone bring up an idea first?

The kernels for a song idea will come in from an individual. All four of us are pretty avid and voluminous songwriters. It can be something as simple as a hook or, in the case of “Call Off Your Dogs,” a rhythm and a bass line. Or it can be a completely realized song with the lyrics, the form, the solos, all this stuff written out. When it comes to the band for the purposes of learning, that’s when the arranging takes place or, in the case of the studio, we did end up doing a lot of writing together, but it all came from a kernel someone had come up with on their own. We don’t sit around and bang out ideas, you know, staring at each other awkwardly across acoustic guitars. That has never been our method.

Isn’t that how the best songs have been written? Awkwardly staring at someone?

[Laughs] Isn’t that how the Lennon/McCartney thing worked? I don’t know. It’s not for us.

So then, from your perspective, what kind of subject matter interests you as a songwriter?

We tend to use pretty familiar pop tropes as, at least, a starting point. We’re not going out on too many limbs here with subject matter, you know; we’re not writing protest songs. It all boils down to love in one way or another, either found or lost. There’s already been 80 years of pop music based on love found and lost. It’s a pretty deep well and, as far as we’re concerned, it’s not been exhausted yet. Until it is, we’re going to keep writing love songs.

It just so happens to be this quirky perspective, which distinguishes you from the major songwriters focused on that very subject.

It is about finding your filter that you want to apply. It’s not satisfying as songwriters — nor is it satisfying to listeners — to hear a song that’s the same kind of lens. They’re all love songs, but they can be viewed through talking about love as self-examination in the modern era — like “Self Portraits” talking about selfies and things like that. It can be sort of veiled and derived through the study of classic Beatles songs, like “You Go Down Smooth” is. As students of music, we enjoy challenging ourselves and each other to come up with as many different ways to explore this well-trodden subject matter, because it’s just more interesting for us that way, and we’re in it for the long game, too. Shame on us if we let it get boring.

If you’re talking about filters, my takeaway is that yours tends to be much more intelligent than what the average love song purports itself to be.

I hope so, but it’s also … it’s an extremely luxurious position to be in with four songwriters in the band, because we all write. We’re not like Carole King who went into the office everyday and, as a professional songwriter, generated hit after hit after hit. All four of us, we have our hits and our misses, but because there are four of us, we have a lot more hits to choose from. We tend to scrape off the very best from the top, which is awesome because it also means that listening back on previous records you don’t hear songs of yours that you absolutely hate. It’s the cream of the crop — the cream of four crops.

Turning to Side Pony, what’s the shape of that new album compared to your last two studio releases?

Thematically, the hope is that it’s the next step. In that, it’s the next step in the evolution of the band and the four of us as individuals and songwriters. There are hopefully bigger risks being taken, hopefully there are unexpected things, there are stylistic departures. But it’s not a new direction. I think that it’s easy to play a track that relies on disco and think, "Oh, this is going to be a new direction for Lake Street Dive." Never, at any point, did we go into this process and say to ourselves, "Let’s do something new." The thought was more like, "Let’s do something better than last time." Not that last time was bad, just that we always hope to improve upon what we’ve done. That’s the key to longevity, of course.

Genre really does matter in terms of being able to categorize and market a band, but you’ve very proudly remained what I’ve read Bridget describe as "genre-less." Why do you think you’ve been so successful when you’re not necessarily following the formula?

I think the short answer is that we have managed to play successful shows for a really diverse array of audiences over the years and have been able to build a fan base, essentially, wherever we go. We’ve had a lot of luck as openers for bigger bands, and those bigger bands have been a very wide range of artists. We opened for Josh Ritter for a couple of months a few years back, we opened for the Yonder Mountain String Band, we opened for a surf rock band called Los Straitjacketes, which wears luchador masks on stage.

There was a trend: We would be sitting at the merch table after opening for these other bands, and their fans — from one show to the next — consistently we would hear, "Hey that was pretty good." These people that came for something completely different, we somehow managed to keep their attention through our set, sell them merch, and get their names on our email list, and the next time we came to town, they would come back. You can see the music you like in Lake Street Dive. I hope that is what it is, because if not, I don’t really have any other answer.

Photos courtesy of the artist

The BGS Sweet 16: Albums We’re Excited About in 2016

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With a new year comes a whole slew of new music, and we couldn't be more excited. So, looking ahead at what's on the horizon, we picked 16 sweet albums for '16 that we think you need to know about.

Aoife O'Donovan: The Magic Hour
The Brooklyn-based songstress returns with another magical full-length. O'Donovan is no longer just a string band associate. She's a powerful songwriter and one of the best lyricists on the scene today.

Frank Solivan & Dirty Kitchen: Family, Friends & Heroes
Frank Solivan and Dirty Kitchen join several cousins and Frank's own father for this very personal album. It's raw and intimate, and features several guest spots from Sam Bush, Jerry Douglas, Rob Ickes, and Ronnie McCoury.

Loretta Lynn: Full Circle
It's been 12 years since Loretta Lynn put out her dynamite album with Jack White, Van Lear Rose. Now, at the ripe young age of 83, she's back to take what's hers (with special guests Elivs Costello and Willie Nelson).

Lucinda Williams: The Ghosts Of Highway 20
The Grand Duchess of Americana drives the lonely highways, smuggler routes, and gravel roads of the old South on this upcoming release. Prepare for feels.

M. Ward: More Rain
Matt Ward's retro engine revs again on his first solo effort since 2012's A Wasteland Companion. Prepare yourself for jangly chords on old Gretsches and etheral tales of fatherhood.

Waco Brothers: Going Down in History
The Brothers' first record in 10 years, Going Down in History, brings a bit of refinement (like a nicely aged bourbon) to the incredible legacy of these cow-punk greats.

— Cameron Matthews

* * *

Amanda Shires: TBD
Dave Cobb produced this one and word on the street is that it's Amanda's best set yet. That's really saying something, because 2013's Down Fell the Doves is a remarkable record.

Brandy Clark: Big Day in a Small Town
Brandy made a big splash with the stunning 12 Stories in 2013, so expectations are high for its follow-up. But anyone who's heard any of the new songs knows that her artistic waters run very, VERY deep.

Dori Freeman: Dori Freeman
This is one that won my heart at first listen. Dori's picking up the Appalachian mantle, earning early comparisons to Loretta, which may prove to be a blessing or a curse … or a bit of both.

Dylan LeBlanc: Cautionary Tale
The first time I heard this one, I tweeted, "Currently listening to my first favorite record of 2016, courtesy of @dleblancmusic. It won't be out until January, but it's a good one." That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Parker Millsap: The Very Last Day
So far, this year's most-anticipated LPs are coming, primarily, from the ladies, with this young lad sneaking his way onto the list based on his wonderful self-titled set from 2013. For anyone who's wondering, Parker's taking a big step forward on this next one.

Sweet Honey in the Rock: #LoveInEvolution
If ever there were a time that the world needed some Sweet Honey, it's now.

Various Artists: Southern Family
Another Dave Cobb joint, Southern Family includes Miranda Lambert, Jason Isbell, Brandy Clark, Anderson East, Holly Williams, and quite a few other fantastic artists. Sign me up!

— Kelly McCartney

* * *

Judah & the Lion: Folk Hop N' Roll
Nashville's Judah and the Lion went back into the studio with man-of-the-moment Dave Cobb to record this sophomore effort to follow their acclaimed debut, Kids These Days.

Margo Price: Midwest Farmer's Daughter
The first country artist signed to Third Man Records, Margo Price is turning heads left and right thanks to her gritty songwriting and classic country roots.

Victoria Reed: Chariot
Newcomer Victoria Reed showcases her New-York-by-way-of-Detroit take on folk and Americana with this stirring debut, which features her captivating voice and thoughtful songwriting.

— Brittney McKenna

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Mavis Staples: Livin' on a High Note

Just announced today, we'd be remiss to not include Mavis's upcoming album as a bonus pick! Produced by M. Ward, it features songs written for Mavis by Nick Cave, Neko Case, Ben Harper, Justin Vernon, and others. And it's as funky and spunky as the singer herself.