Gillian Welch and David Rawlings – one of the most beloved modern duos in bluegrass and Americana – brought music from their GRAMMY Award winning album, Woodland (2024), to The Late Show with Stephen Colbert earlier this month, performing “Empty Trainload of Sky” live on television. They also performed one of their classic tracks, “Look at Miss Ohio,” a song from Welch’s seminal 2003 project, Soul Journey, for a web-exclusive video. Watch both performances, which feature Punch Brothers and Hawktail bassist Paul Kowert backing up the pair, right here on BGS.
Welch and Rawlings are currently in the middle of a 30+ date headlining tour, with two concerts set for Nashville’s Ryman Auditorium, the Mother Church of country music, on May 22 and May 23. Earlier this month, coinciding with their appearance on The Late Show, they also appeared for two nights at Carnegie Hall before continuing along the East Coast. In June, they’ll be heading out West and concluding their run in the Pacific Northwest.
Between them, they’ve racked up endless awards and accolades, including 14 GRAMMY nominations and five GRAMMY wins collectively. In 2015, they were honored by the Americana Music Association with a Lifetime Achievement Award for Songwriting. But it’s not these well-deserved recognitions, their millions of streams and sales, or even their fantastic contributions to films like O Brother, Where Art Thou? and The Ballad of Buster Scruggs that will be their crowning achievements. Instead, it’s the nearly universal love, admiration, and respect they receive from within and outside the American roots music community that best showcases their far-reaching impact.
That and, of course, the incredible body of work they’ve fashioned together. Whether the timeless and twenty-year-old staples like “Look at Miss Ohio” or the blustery and destructive new work, “Empty Trainload of Sky,” Welch & Rawlings continue to gift us all songs that will stand the test of time – and that we each carry with us wherever we go.
It’s a warm, summery day in early April when I sit down with archivist, writer, and guitarist Cameron Knowler on the shores of Old Hickory Lake in Middle Tennessee. Both Knowler and myself happen to now live in Old Hickory, a small village in Davidson County that was formerly a DuPont company town and is nestled on the edges of the eponymous, manmade US Army Corps of Engineers lake on the Cumberland River.
The setting is a far cry – geographically, topographically, and ecologically – from Knowler’s hometown of Yuma, Arizona, a place that serves as the inspiration, background, and foreground of his stunning new solo guitar album, CRK (released April 4 by Worried Songs). Knowler’s upbringing in Yuma was traumatic and bleak, not exactly a storybook experience by any measure. Still, like many roots musicians and creatives, the landscapes and dioramas of the wild west California/Arizona border town have become the guitarist-composer’s primary muse.
CRK sounds like the desert. Like hot, searing parking lots. Like mesquite and cactuses and roadrunners and mesas and red rocks. Stark flatpicked and finger-plucked melodies give equal consideration and immortalization to sweeping natural landscapes and small, depressingly human settings, too. Unlike so many of his subjects and inspirations in and around Yuma, this collection of compositions never moves to pave over the intricacies, nuances, and subversions Knowler finds in revisiting his hometown in music and memories. Still, the album is as gorgeous and transportive as any of our favorite famous paintings of the Old West, or soundtracks to iconic western films, or depictions of ancient pueblos. Perhaps his subject is a strip mall or a vignette of the proverbial “suburban hell,” but in this context each feels like an entire universe unto itself, a dreamscape – a home.
CRK opens with a gorgeous prose poem set to music, a track titled “Christmas in Yuma.” Immediately, the record is thereby attached through terroir and tradition to other western artists like Steinbeck and McCarthy. The album’s package is ornamented with gorgeous photographs, polaroids, bits of imagery, printed art, and poetry, further evoking artists we associate with the Southwest like Dorothea Lange and Linda Hogan. But the stories herein are told almost exclusively by guitar – usually Knowler solo as centerpiece, but sometimes joined by ensembles including guitarists Jordan Tice (who co-produced the project) and Rich Hinman, as well as other instrumentalists like Rayna Gellert, Robert Bowlin, Jay Bellerose, and more. The guitar is an instrument so pervasive and ubiquitous we often forget how aptly it can showcase these kinds of narratives, and how at home the six-string always feels in the West.
But with CRK, listeners won’t ever forget those facts. This is a narrative album. Is it also a technical achievement, intricate and intriguing and complex? Absolutely. But making an impressive guitar album was clearly not Knowler’s goal. Telling stories, with his medium being the guitar and the traditions that encircle it, was his chief aim. To say the project is successful in this regard would be an embarrassingly trite understatement.
And so, while watching the springtime water birds and snacking on lunch – with Knowler’s neck, wrists, and fingers dripping in Native-smithed silver and turquoise – we two sat down on the banks of a long, twisting lake on the Cumberland River in Nashville to discuss the guitar, the desert, and the little town on the banks of the Colorado River called Yuma – that Cameron Knowler once, and still, calls home.
I wanted to start by talking about place. I’m obsessed with how music has been slowly but surely divorced from its relationship to place over time. Your album, what jumped out at me immediately was it has such a strong relationship to place. How do you take something physical, tangible, geographical – a place like Yuma or Old Hickory Lake – and translate that into your medium? How do you think about evoking landscape or evoking an image with music?
Cameron Knowler: That’s a great question. I have like 10 ways of responding to that. As you said, music is getting divorced from place and I think it’s something of a cliche at this point that we’re losing regionalism. In the sense that, even with bow strokes– fiddlers in Galax, Virginia are different than fiddlers in northern Virginia. Not consciously, necessarily, but just as a colloquialism. As a part of their place. I didn’t [have] an old man or an old woman playing a fiddle who taught me tunes, I never had any of that [regionalism]. Instead, the “white kid from the suburbs” phenomenon happened. When I moved to Texas, I got connected with a regional fiddler in Terlingua, Texas – kind of [where the movie], Paris, Texas started. I learned his repertoire, which was interesting in that he learned a lot from Brad Leftwich when they were young and living in Santa Barbara. That was the void that I was missing. Not even musically, just in my life. I lost my mom, I lost my dad, I didn’t have family, so to me that was a cue, like a clue.
Then it flips, because there is a robust fiddle tradition of the Tohono O’odham [Nation] right there on the Yuma, Arizona/California border. But that’s not my culture. I could have gone in and said, “I’m gonna learn this tune” – or melody or whatever. Then that [could be] my way into the landscape. Instead of coming at it from an internal perspective, it was an external perspective, basically like a western painter. Like an oil painter painting Tucson or Walpi.
To answer your question, it’s slippery, ’cause you can’t go on stage and say, “Okay, this instrumental song is about a grocery store that I grew up driving by.” [Laughs] I can’t say that. It does come from that place, but I don’t say that. For me, the visual aspects of the record, I weigh them as equally, I would say, as the sonics. I think that’s where I can insert song titles – all the song titles on the record are related to Yuma.
There’s this tradition of stark solo or nearly solo acoustic guitar as an iconic sound of “the Wild West.” One of the first things I thought about listening to CRK is the score and soundtrack for Brokeback Mountain, so much of it is just solo plucked, tender guitar. Then of course in other music that evokes the West, you have sweeping strings and countrypolitan country and western. Even in that context you’ll often hear nylon-string guitar out front, solo. There’s something about unadorned guitar that is connected to landscapes.
But what I’m hearing you say is it’s not about translating the grandeur of Western landscapes at all. It’s about the grocery store, or it’s about the building that burned down, or it’s about a stretch of miles and miles of highway.
Totally. Yes. There’s so much programmed into the sound. David Rawling says, “The sound of a minor chord is a cowboy dying,” which is such a great way of saying that.
I believe this is true of the development of the flat-top guitar in general. At a certain point in 1934 or 1933, when the dreadnoughts start to get developed, there’s something about that that conveniently carries forward the agenda of interrelated musics – like Hawaiian music and bluegrass music for two totally different agendas. Then that [sound and body style] becomes the golden standard. But there were so many other brands and makers and thinkers from different cultures making guitars that, in an alternate universe not far from our own at all, would’ve been the golden standard. I feel the same way about the tradition of the music itself, right? And a dreadnought itself can do an infinite number of things, but just the format itself excludes a lot. As a constant instrument to play solo.
Another thing that David Rawlings says about his small guitar is that the smallest things sound the biggest, when they are in their own diorama – describing what he does with Gillian [Welch]. That’s his goal, to convince listeners that the “baby dinosaur” [small guitar] can actually eat them. Working in miniature, making little boats in glass bottles, you open yourself up, it’s an entire universe. The littlest things sound the biggest. In that way, there’s opportunity in the format itself.
I think people like Norman Blake and John Steinbeck are both hyper-regionalists who synthesize very eclectic sources to create something that is uniquely their own, but also totally comes outta left field. ‘Cause yeah, you think about Norman and certain people would say he is a flatpicker. Some people would say he was a pot smoking hippie who played with John Hartford – and they’re both equally true! Tying together otherwise disparate histories is a compelling format and is rewarding to the solo practitioner, I think.
We should talk about Steinbeck. We talked about it a couple of weeks ago when we first met by chance. But you starting the album with “Christmas in Yuma,” immediately I was like, “Oh, I know where we are. I know what we’re doing.” We’re in the West, there’s poetry/prose poetry happening. That song feels like it’s part of a longstanding tradition. Immediately I was thinking about a couple of my favorite Steinbeck passages listening to that.
Starting with poetry, starting with spoken word over that beautiful sound bed that you’ve created for it, what does that accomplish for you as an opening to a record?
Two things come to mind. Kenneth Patchen, who made these poetry records for the Folkways label in the ‘50s backed by a jazz band and it was almost comical, but he took it so seriously and it’s so convincing when you just forget what the format actually is. The great Texas – I don’t even wanna say outsider artist, but in terms of how he’s viewed – outsider artist Terry Allen, with some of his concept records like Lubbock (On Everything) with the pedal steel. You can do anything at that point. That’s why I started [CRK] out that way.
Also, quite frankly, Ice Cube’s records – I’m thinking of N.W.A. – start out with these sound collages of him getting arrested or walking down a cell block, or the imagined character is. To me, he could do anything after that point. He could make the amazing record that it became, or he could have done some something entirely different. I just think it’s an earnest way of saying, “I’m not trying to do what you [already] know.” We all know that everyone is infinitely complex, but in terms of what they release, it’s fine to not be infinitely complex?
For me, it’s not a flatpicking record. It’s not a fingerpicking record. I’m really not trying to make it a guitar record, so to speak. I wanted to make it a narrative record. [“Christmas in Yuma”] was just an earnest way of saying, “I’m not what you think I might be.”
It’s also a tradition in these roots and folk music spaces to play with expectation. People generally know what a solo guitar record is gonna sound like and what it’s gonna be and what it’s gonna do. I’m imagining a program director at a radio station putting on the record and doing the 30-second listen through – and the first song is poetry?!
I think maybe that’s what you’re talking about? Whatever conscious or subconscious projection you might have about what this album is in your hand, or what this is about to be as you put it on, you want to play with that projection. You’re saying, “I’m gonna tell you what this is.”
That is a beautiful point because, not to go too far back [in my history], but I was “unschooled” and I didn’t have a high school diploma or a GED. [Through all the hardships I’ve faced], I’ve learned this notion of leveraging. I surveyed how I was going to be able to reach people, and it gets more representative of myself as [time] goes. But it’s always been under the guise of leveraging unexpected muscle groups towards something else. That’s just built into this like fight or flight thing. I just have nothing to lose.
Your point about the radio DJ – or whoever that’s listening to the poetry – I think that’s a unique opportunity. At that point, they’re suspending judgment. If I wanna listen to a guitar record, I’m gonna listen to Leo Kottke 6- and 12-String Guitar. It’s perfect. It does exactly what it needs to do.
People should continue to try to make records like that. To me, it’s not a push against that at all. It’s starting out on a different foot. You may end up in a place that, by design, is very different than you would if you just tried to hit it on the nose. You can still hit it on the nose. Then you might even have a chance to open it up to somebody. Sometimes people just don’t know who Norman Blake is. But then, there’s a tune like “Yuma Ferry.” Who plays like that? Norman plays like that. If I were to make a whole record of “Yuma Ferry”-style tunes, I think everybody listening would know that it was a Norman Blake type of thing.
Let’s talk about “Christmas in Yuma” a little more in detail, because I’m curious about how you created it. Was it the poem that made the music happen, or the music demanded to have a poem set to it? What was the creative process like for the track?
I woke up from a nap on December 21, 2021, and I just went to Google Docs and typed it out. It just came out like that. The recording process, I had my friends Harry and Dylan sit down with me in our friend Marshall’s studio and we just recorded improvisations with the loose framework. [It’s read by my friend] Jack Kilmer, who similarly grew up in the Southwest. His father, like my mother, was also Christian Scientist. Those are all the things that were vibrating around. I was like, “He has to do it.” He’s an amazing voice actor, amazing actor, and just a great musician. Very musical and a beautiful artist. I had him do it first.
Then we went to the studio and we just said, “This is how long the track is. We’re not gonna play to the track. We’re just gonna play.” There was one take that was like the perfect length of time and I just put it under there. All those sonic features that interact with the vocal are totally incidental.
The music of CRK is so evocative and so visual and is so good at text painting, but I wanted to talk about your work in other media and about how you curated the package for the album, too. You’re so multifaceted in what media you’re working in – archives, photography, visual art, written word, music, melody. How do you see all those forms converging and diverging with this project specifically? Because I see your eye for detail at every level. You can just tell from the package that the whole thing is art to you, not just the songs.
Photography, it is always fiction. That, to me, is the beauty of it. If there’s a picture of someone jumping, you don’t really know where they jumped from. Or if they smile, they are actually crying? Maybe this person crying is not the good guy. Maybe they’re the bad guy.
You can start to track things like that, as the smile gets “invented” throughout photography. But it’s this line of fiction that, if you spend enough time with it, you can infer things right or wrong in there. They can all take you to a different place. Movies are that way, but you lose a little bit with the moving image. ‘Cause then you see the speed at which they’re moving, even if the frame rate isn’t representative of reality.
But then, say you’re playing jazz standards and you’re playing things with semantic content that came from a show, a Broadway show in the ‘40s. You’re shackled by the semantic content of that. I think it’s a convenient metaphor, in my opinion, to see photography and instrumental music as this thing, where – back to working in miniature – smaller things give you more room to insert yourself into it. I shouldn’t say more room, but there’s more fiction to play with, I would argue.
There’s less to compete with.
Right? In terms of things being programmed to you. In movies, you have the aesthetics, you have the costumes, you have the music, you have all this stuff. With photo books, the way that they’re sequenced by gestures is such a fitting way of dealing with sequencing things that aren’t visual. There’s a lot of inspiration from the photo book as a tradition, in terms of sequencing. And how with photojournalism, we don’t really have an American, coalesced identity of the West without the photography of the Dust Bowl. I’ve spent a lot of time looking at FSA photographs and there’s some great Dorothea Lange photographs in Yuma from May of 1935 which can be seen via the Library of Congress. I actually licensed one of them that was not within the purview of her [federal] work from the Oakland Museum and that’s in the song folio for CRK.
Obviously, Norman Blake is a really important musician to you and Dave Rawlings is as well. You’re talking about wanting to make music, wanting to make a record that isn’t just another acoustic guitar, flatpicking, flat-top record. Norman and Dave are great examples of guitarists who make albums that aren’t just the same old same old, and aren’t just products, they’re art. Both showcase that simple solo guitar, that miniature world we’re talking about, can be so expansive and huge and lush. But who are the others? Who are the folks that modeled for you that having your own voice and perspective on your instrument was more important than just doing it to do it. Or to be “best” or to sell yourself as a product for consumption?
For banjo, I think John Hartford. I love the idea that Blake Mills said, he called guitar an instrument for assholes. [Laughs] What I love about that is, no matter how you look at a guitar, the guitar is always a toy. [Andrés] Segovia tried to institute a formal repertoire. The bluegrass people tried to, the rock people [tried to]. Is Jimi Hendrix the definitive repertoire for the guitar? AC/DC? But, it’s still a toy. It’s still marketed as a toy.
I don’t need a million people to listen to my music to make a living or to keep doing it. It’s all within the art/archives, how to make these raw ingredients that are embedded into everyone into something that’s not commercial, but digestible.
In terms of other people [who inspired me]. John Fahey. Leo Kottke, but I didn’t fingerpick up until about three and a half years ago. About 80% of the record is finger picking. To your point about the poem earlier, there’s more outside of the solo, acoustic guitar canon of stuff, too. People like Rambling Jack Elliot and Sam Shepard, yeah.
One final point, I would play these solo concerts in Texas of just flatpicking melodies, like four flatpicking melodies in four different keys. And I was just like beating my head up against a wall, trying to tell some sort of cinematic, fiddle tune-driven [story over an entire set of just flatpicking]. I wanted there to be an arc. Through stubbornness, I decided I was going to learn how to fingerpick convincingly, where I had control of each voice. It’s really hard. It was a pain in my ass to figure that shit out.
But yeah, I see them all as tools: the poetry, the flatpicking, the fingerpicking, the drumming. It could be seen as pushing back against commercialism or whatever, but in some ways it’s actually the opposite. I was like, “I want more. I want a diverse audience. I want as many people to listen to this as possible.” Not sheer numbers, but in terms of who they are and what their listening diets are. Not just everybody in the audience being someone who will already know each of those fiddle tunes.
While you know better, there’s a wide swath of the music-listening world in which Alison Krauss is best known as former Led Zeppelin golden god Robert Plant’s duet partner. Yet, Krauss has had a wholly remarkable career going back nearly 40 years, in which she has exhibited profound collaborative instincts and abilities.
On the occasion of the release of Arcadia, her first album with Union Station in 14 years (as well as a reunion with the founders of her former longtime label, Rounder Records), we look back at some of Krauss’ career highlights in and out of Union Station.
“Cluck Old Hen” (traditional; 1992-2007)
We begin with a literal oldie, “Cluck Old Hen,” from the pre-bluegrass era, which demonstrates two things – that Alison Krauss has always revered the history, roots, and traditions of bluegrass; and that Union Station is one incredible ensemble. Recordings of this Appalachian fiddle tune go back more than a century, to country music forefather Fiddlin’ John Carson in the 1920s.
Krauss first released an instrumental version of the tune on 1992’s Everytime You Say Goodbye (her second LP with Union Station), and won a GRAMMY with the onstage version on 2002’s AKUS album, Live. But feast your ears and eyes on this 2007 performance at the Grand Ole Opry, with a pre-teen Sierra Hull sitting in.
1992 studio version:
2002 live version:
“When You Say Nothing At All” (Paul Overstreet & Don Schlitz; 1994)
After a decade of steadily accelerating momentum, Krauss had her big commercial breakout with this AKUS cover of the late Keith Whitley’s 1988 country chart-topper. Krauss sang it on 1994’s Keith Whitley: A Tribute Album and it served as centerpiece of her own 1995 album, Now That I’ve Found You: A Collection. It reached No. 3 on the country singles chart and went on to win the Country Music Association’s single of the year plus a GRAMMY Award. You can hear why.
Whitley’s version:
“I Can Let Go Now” (Michael McDonald; 1997)
For any interpretive singer, the choice of material is key. And if the singer in question has Krauss’ range and chops and vision, some truly unlikely alchemy is possible. Among the best examples from the AKUS repertoire is “I Can Let Go Now,” a deep cut on Doobie Brothers frontman Michael McDonald’s 1982 solo album, If That’s What It Takes. Another amazing Krauss vocal in a career full of them.
McDonald’s version:
“Man of Constant Sorrow” (traditional; 2000-2002)
Before O Brother, Where Art Thou?, you wouldn’t have called singer-guitarist Dan Tyminski the unheralded “secret weapon” of AKUS. Nevertheless, he didn’t become a star in his own right until serving as movie star George Clooney’s singing voice in the Coen Brothers loopy, Odyssey-inspired farce. “Man of Constant Sorrow” was the hit in the movie and also on the radio, launching Tyminski to solo stardom.
Resonator guitarist Jerry Douglas especially shines on this version from 2002’s Live, recorded in Louisville – you can just tell everyone in the crowd was waiting for the “I bid farewell to old Kentucky” line so they could go nuts. Tyminski would have another unlikely hit in 2013, singing on Swedish deejay Avicii’s “Hey Brother.”
O Brother version:
“New Favorite” (Gillian Welch & David Rawlings; 2001)
Kraus sang on the GRAMMY-winning O Brother soundtrack, too, alongside Gillian Welch. It will come as no surprise that the Welch/Rawlings catalog has been a recurrent favorite song source for her. One of Krauss’ best Welch/Rawlings selections is “New Favorite,” title track of the thrice-GRAMMY-winning 2001 AKUS album. Though it’s edited out in this video, the album-closing version concluded with a rare in-the-studio instrumental flub, followed by sheepish laughter to end the record. Perhaps the AKUS crew is human after all?
“Borderline” (Sidney & Suzanne Cox; 2004)
The story goes that the first time Krauss was on the summer touring circuit, she’d go around knocking on camper doors at bluegrass festivals to ask whoever answered, “Are you the Cox Family?” Once she found them, she didn’t let go, and the Coxes became some of the best of her collaborators and song providers. Along with producing their albums, Krauss covered Cox compositions frequently; “Borderline” appeared on 2004’s Lonely Runs Both Ways, another triple GRAMMY winner.
When Krauss first sang with Robert Plant at a Leadbelly tribute concert in November 2004, it seemed like the unlikeliest of pairings. But here’s proof that they had more in common than you’d expect, with Krauss covering a solo Plant hit from 1983. She sang “Big Log” on her brother Victor Krauss’ album, Far From Enough, which was released earlier in 2004.
This video pairs the Krauss siblings’ version with Plant’s original 1983 video, directed by Storm Thorgerson.
“Dimming of the Day” (Richard & Linda Thompson; 2011)
Fairport Convention guitarist Richard Thompson is one of the finest instrumentalists of his generation as well as a brilliant songwriter, especially with his former wife and collaborator Linda Thompson. This stately, bittersweet love song dates back to their 1975 duo LP, Pour Down Like Silver, and Linda sets the bar high with a stoic yet emotional vocal. Krauss more than lives up to it on the 2011 AKUS album Paper Airplane, which also offers another great showcase for resonator guitarist Douglas.
Richard & Linda’s version:
“Your Long Journey” (Doc & Rosa Lee Watson; 2007)
Krauss isn’t just a spectacular lead vocalist, but also an amazing harmony singer, one of the few who can hold a candle to Emmylou Harris. Retitled from the Doc/Rosa Lee Watson original, “Your Lone Journey,” this closing track to 2007’s grand-slam GRAMMY winner Raising Sand has Krauss’ most emotional vocal harmonies with Plant on either of their two albums together.
Doc Watson’s version:
“Heaven’s Bright Shore” (A. Kennedy; 1989, 2015)
All that, and she’s an incredible backup vocalist to boot. “Heaven’s Bright Shore” is a gospel song Krauss first recorded as a teenager on 1989’s Two Highways, her first album billed as Alison Krauss & Union Station (and also her first to receive a GRAMMY nomination). It’s great, but an even better version is this 2015 recording in which she’s backing up bluegrass patriarch Ralph Stanley alongside Judy Marshall.
AKUS version:
“The Captain’s Daughter” (Johnny Cash & Robert Lee Castleman; 2018)
The late great Johnny Cash left behind a lot of writings after he died in 2003, some of which were turned into songs for the 2018 tribute album, Forever Words: The Music. None of his songs ever had it so good as “The Captain’s Daughter.” This superlative AKUS version fits Cash’s words like a glove.
Yesterday, the 67th Annual GRAMMY Awards show was held in Los Angeles, handing out dozens of awards across the primetime broadcast and premiere ceremony while highlighting the city’s ongoing response to last month’s extreme wildfires, which displaced hundreds of musicians, artists, industry professionals, and creatives. The marquee event was kicked off by Dawes – whose sibling frontmen, Taylor and Griffin Goldsmith, had homes, their studio, and countless instruments and equipment destroyed in the blazes. They performed a moving rendition of “I Love L.A.” with a host of special guests.
Throughout the show, audience members were encouraged to support MusiCares Fire Relief, a collaborative fundraiser launched by the Recording Academy and MusiCares in partnership with Direct Relief, the California Community Foundation, and the Pasadena Community Foundation to help expand wildfire relief efforts across the broader Los Angeles community. Despite the somber shadow cast by the disaster over LA and its creative community, the show was convivial, joyous, and restorative – and included more than a few show-stopping and jaw-dropping moments.
As usual, the crème de la crème of roots musicians could be found across both the pre-telecast and primetime awards, scooping up golden gramophones in seemingly endless varieties of categories. The evening’s big winners in the Country & American Roots Music categories included superstar Beyoncé, who finally picked up her first Album of the Year win, as well as becoming the first Black woman to ever win Best Country Album. She also won the trophy for Best Country Duo Performance with Miley Cyrus for “II Most Wanted,” bringing her GRAMMY Awards totals to 99 nominations and 35 wins – the most wins of any recipient in the history of the awards.
Sierra Ferrell, a West Virginia native and firebrand bluegrass and country starlet quickly on the rise these past handful of years, was indisputably the day’s other big winner, scoring in each of the four categories in which she was nominated. She quickly followed her very first GRAMMY win with three more, landing awards for Best Americana Album, Best American Roots Performance, Best Americana Performance, and Best American Roots Song – an honor she shares with her co-writer, musician, songwriter, and vocalist Melody Walker (Front Country, BERTHA: Grateful Drag).
The award for Best Bluegrass Album was yet again snatched by the world’s premier flatpicker, Billy Strings, for Live Vol. 1, logging his second win at the GRAMMYs after seven nominations over the last five years.
Pop phenom Chappell Roan won Best New Artist, Kacey Musgraves took home Best Country Song for “The Architect,” Chris Stapleton racked up his 11th GRAMMY win for Best Country Solo Performance, and Woodland, the latest album by Gillian Welch & David Rawlings, was recognized as Best Folk Album. Chick Corea won a posthumous award – Best Jazz Instrumental Album – for Remembrance, a duo project helmed by banjoist Béla Fleck that was released in honor of his hero, friend, and collaborator.
The GRAMMYs yet again demonstrate that the impact of bluegrass, folk, Americana, and country on the mainstream music industry cannot be overstated. Congratulations to all of the winners and nominees for the 67th GRAMMY Awards!
“16 CARRIAGES” – Beyoncé “I Am Not Okay” – Jelly Roll “The Architect” – Kacey Musgraves “A Bar Song (Tipsy)” – Shaboozey “It Takes A Woman” – Chris Stapleton
Best Country Duo/Group Performance
“Cowboys Cry Too” – Kelsea Ballerini with Noah Kahan “II MOST WANTED” – Beyoncé featuring Miley Cyrus “Break Mine” – Brothers Osborne “Bigger Houses” – Dan + Shay “I Had Some Help” – Post Malone featuring Morgan Wallen
Best Country Song
“The Architect” – Shane McAnally, Kacey Musgraves & Josh Osborne, songwriters (Kacey Musgraves) “A Bar Song (Tipsy)” – Sean Cook, Jerrel Jones, Joe Kent, Chibueze Collins Obinna, Nevin Sastry & Mark Williams, songwriters (Shaboozey) “I Am Not Okay” – Casey Brown, Jason DeFord, Ashley Gorley & Taylor Phillips, songwriters (Jelly Roll) “I Had Some Help” – Louis Bell, Ashley Gorley, Hoskins, Austin Post, Ernest Smith, Ryan Vojtesak, Morgan Wallen & Chandler Paul Walters, songwriters (Post Malone Featuring Morgan Wallen) “TEXAS HOLD ‘EM”– Brian Bates, Beyoncé, Elizabeth Lowell Boland, Megan Bülow, Nate Ferraro & Raphael Saadiq, songwriters (Beyoncé)
Best Country Album
COWBOY CARTER – Beyoncé F-1 Trillion – Post Malone Deeper Well – Kacey Musgraves Higher – Chris Stapleton Whirlwind – Lainey Wilson
Best American Roots Performance
“Blame It On Eve” – Shemekia Copeland “Nothing In Rambling” – The Fabulous Thunderbirds featuring Bonnie Raitt, Keb’ Mo’, Taj Mahal, & Mick Fleetwood “Lighthouse” – Sierra Ferrell “The Ballad Of Sally Anne” – Rhiannon Giddens
Best Americana Performance
“YA YA” – Beyoncé “Subtitles” – Madison Cunningham “Don’t Do Me Good” – Madi Diaz featuring Kacey Musgraves “American Dreaming” – Sierra Ferrell “Runaway Train” – Sarah Jarosz “Empty Trainload Of Sky” – Gillian Welch & David Rawlings
Best American Roots Song
“Ahead Of The Game” – Mark Knopfler, songwriter (Mark Knopfler) “All In Good Time” – Sam Beam, songwriter (Iron & Wine featuring Fiona Apple) “All My Friends” – Aoife O’Donovan, songwriter (Aoife O’Donovan) “American Dreaming” – Sierra Ferrell & Melody Walker, songwriters (Sierra Ferrell) “Blame It On Eve” – John Hahn & Will Kimbrough, songwriters (Shemekia Copeland)
Best Americana Album
The Other Side – T Bone Burnett $10 Cowboy – Charley Crockett Trail Of Flowers – Sierra Ferrell Polaroid Lovers – Sarah Jarosz No One Gets Out Alive – Maggie Rose Tigers Blood – Waxahatchee
Best Bluegrass Album
I Built A World – Bronwyn Keith-Hynes Songs Of Love And Life – The Del McCoury Band No Fear – Sister Sadie Live Vol. 1 – Billy Strings Earl Jam – Tony Trischka Dan Tyminski: Live From The Ryman – Dan Tyminski
Best Traditional Blues Album
Hill Country Love – Cedric Burnside Struck Down – The Fabulous Thunderbirds One Guitar Woman – Sue Foley Sam’s Place – Little Feat Swingin’ Live At The Church In Tulsa – The Taj Mahal Sextet
Best Contemporary Blues Album
Blues Deluxe Vol. 2 – Joe Bonamassa Blame It On Eve – Shemekia Copeland Friendlytown – Steve Cropper & The Midnight Hour Mileage – Ruthie Foster The Fury – Antonio Vergara
Best Folk Album
American Patchwork Quartet – American Patchwork Quartet Weird Faith – Madi Diaz Bright Future – Adrianne Lenker All My Friends – Aoife O’Donovan Woodland – Gillian Welch & David Rawlings
Best Regional Roots Music Album
25 Back To My Roots – Sean Ardoin And Kreole Rock And Soul Live At The 2024 New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival – Big Chief Monk Boudreaux & The Golden Eagles featuring J’Wan Boudreaux Live At The 2024 New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival – New Breed Brass Band featuring Trombone Shorty Kuini – Kalani Pe’a Stories From The Battlefield – The Rumble Featuring Chief Joseph Boudreaux Jr.
Best Roots Gospel Album
The Gospel Sessions, Vol 2 – Authentic Unlimited The Gospel According To Mark – Mark D. Conklin Rhapsody – The Harlem Gospel Travelers Church – Cory Henry Loving You – The Nelons
Best Jazz Performance
“Walk With Me, Lord (SOUND | SPIRIT)” – The Baylor Project “Phoenix Reimagined (Live)” – Lakecia Benjamin featuring Randy Brecker, Jeff “Tain” Watts & John Scofield “Juno” – Chick Corea & Béla Fleck “Twinkle Twinkle Little Me” – Samara Joy featuring Sullivan Fortner “Little Fears” – Dan Pugach Big Band featuring Nicole Zuraitis & Troy Roberts
Best Jazz Instrumental Album
Owl Song – Ambrose Akinmusire featuring Bill Frisell & Herlin Riley Beyond This Place – Kenny Barron featuring Kiyoshi Kitagawa, Johnathan Blake, Immanuel Wilkins & Steve Nelson Phoenix Reimagined (Live) – Lakecia Benjamin Remembrance – Chick Corea & Béla Fleck Solo Game – Sullivan Fortner
Best Traditional Pop Vocal Album
À Fleur De Peau – Cyrille Aimée Visions – Norah Jones Good Together – Lake Street Dive Impossible Dream – Aaron Lazar Christmas Wish – Gregory Porter
Best Contemporary Instrumental Album
Plot Armor – Taylor Eigsti Rhapsody In Blue – Béla Fleck Orchestras (Live) – Bill Frisell featuring Alexander Hanson, Brussels Philharmonic, Rudy Royston & Thomas Morgan Mark – Mark Guiliana Speak To Me – Julian Lage
Best Instrumental Composition
“At Last” – Shelton G. Berg, composer (Shelly Berg) “Communion” – Christopher Zuar, composer (Christopher Zuar Orchestra) “I Swear, I Really Wanted To Make A “Rap” Album But This Is Literally The Way The Wind Blew Me This Time” – André 3000, Surya Botofasina, Nate Mercereau & Carlos Niño, composers (André 3000) “Remembrance” – Chick Corea, composer (Chick Corea & Béla Fleck) “Strands” – Pascal Le Boeuf, composer (Akropolis Reed Quintet, Pascal Le Boeuf & Christian Euman)
Best Arrangement, Instrumental or A Cappella
“Baby Elephant Walk” – Encore, Michael League, arranger (Snarky Puppy) “Bridge Over Troubled Water” – Jacob Collier, Tori Kelly & John Legend, arrangers (Jacob Collier Featuring John Legend & Tori Kelly) “Rhapsody In Blue(Grass)” – Béla Fleck & Ferde Grofé, arrangers (Béla Fleck featuring Michael Cleveland, Sierra Hull, Justin Moses, Mark Schatz & Bryan Sutton) “Rose Without The Thorns” – Erin Bentlage, Alexander Lloyd Blake, Scott Hoying, A.J. Sealy & Amanda Taylor, arrangers (Scott Hoying featuring säje & Tonality) “Silent Night” – Erin Bentlage, Sara Gazarek, Johnaye Kendrick & Amanda Taylor, arrangers (säje)
Notable General Field Categories:
Record Of The Year
“Now And Then” – The Beatles “TEXAS HOLD ‘EM” – Beyoncé “Espresso” – Sabrina Carpenter “360” – Charli XCX “BIRDS OF A FEATHER” – Billie Eilish “Not Like Us” – Kendrick Lamar “Good Luck, Babe!” – Chappell Roan “Fortnight” – Taylor Swift featuring Post Malone
Album Of The Year
New Blue Sun – André 3000 COWBOY CARTER – Beyoncé Short n’ Sweet – Sabrina Carpenter BRAT – Charli XCX Djesse Vol. 4 – Jacob Collier HIT ME HARD AND SOFT – Billie Eilish Chappell Roan The Rise And Fall Of A Midwest Princess – Chappell Roan THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT – Taylor Swift
Song Of The Year
“A Bar Song (Tipsy)” – Sean Cook, Jerrel Jones, Joe Kent, Chibueze Collins Obinna, Nevin Sastry & Mark Williams, songwriters (Shaboozey) “BIRDS OF A FEATHER” – Billie Eilish O’Connell & FINNEAS, songwriters (Billie Eilish) “Die With A Smile” – Dernst Emile II, James Fauntleroy, Lady Gaga, Bruno Mars & Andrew Watt, songwriters (Lady Gaga & Bruno Mars) “Fortnight” – Jack Antonoff, Austin Post & Taylor Swift, songwriters (Taylor Swift Featuring Post Malone) “Good Luck, Babe!” – Kayleigh Rose Amstutz, Daniel Nigro & Justin Tranter, songwriters (Chappell Roan) “Not Like Us” – Kendrick Lamar, songwriter (Kendrick Lamar) “Please Please Please” – Amy Allen, Jack Antonoff & Sabrina Carpenter, songwriters (Sabrina Carpenter) “TEXAS HOLD ‘EM” – Brian Bates, Beyoncé, Elizabeth Lowell Boland, Megan Bülow, Nate Ferraro & Raphael Saadiq, songwriters (Beyoncé)
This morning, Friday, November 8, the Recording Academy announced the nominees for the 67th GRAMMY Awards, to be held in Los Angeles on February 2 at the Crypto.com Arena. Roots musicians can be found at all levels and across all fields of the buzzworthy awards, which are voted on by the vast Recording Academy membership of music makers, artists, and creatives.
Notably, Beyoncé, her groundbreaking country fusion album COWBOY CARTER, and its tracks can be found throughout the general field and American Roots categories, including landing nominations for Best Country Album, Best Country Song, Best Americana Performance, Album of the Year, Record of the Year, and more. Banjoist and composer Béla Fleck collected more than a handful of nominations for his work with Chick Corea – released posthumously – and Rhapsody in Blue, as well.
The Best Bluegrass Album category this year includes releases from Bronwyn Keith-Hynes, the Del McCoury Band, Sister Sadie, Billy Strings, Tony Trischka, and Dan Tyminski, making for an incredibly stout and superlative lineup.
From Kacey Musgraves to Shemekia Copeland, Aoife O’Donovan to Lake Street Dive, below we’ve collected all of the nominees in the Country & American Roots Music fields, plus we feature select categories from across the many fields, genres, and communities that also include roots musicians and our BGS friends and neighbors. Check out the list and mark your calendars for the 67th GRAMMY Awards, Sunday, February 2, 2025.
Best Country Solo Performance
“16 CARRIAGES” – Beyoncé “I Am Not Okay” – Jelly Roll “The Architect” – Kacey Musgraves “A Bar Song (Tipsy)” – Shaboozey “It Takes A Woman” – Chris Stapleton
Best Country Duo/Group Performance
“Cowboys Cry Too” – Kelsea Ballerini with Noah Kahan “II MOST WANTED” – Beyoncé featuring Miley Cyrus “Break Mine” – Brothers Osborne “Bigger Houses” – Dan + Shay “I Had Some Help” – Post Malone featuring Morgan Wallen
Best Country Song
“The Architect” – Shane McAnally, Kacey Musgraves & Josh Osborne, songwriters (Kacey Musgraves) “A Bar Song (Tipsy)” – Sean Cook, Jerrel Jones, Joe Kent, Chibueze Collins Obinna, Nevin Sastry & Mark Williams, songwriters (Shaboozey) “I Am Not Okay” – Casey Brown, Jason DeFord, Ashley Gorley & Taylor Phillips, songwriters (Jelly Roll) “I Had Some Help” – Louis Bell, Ashley Gorley, Hoskins, Austin Post, Ernest Smith, Ryan Vojtesak, Morgan Wallen & Chandler Paul Walters, songwriters (Post Malone Featuring Morgan Wallen) “TEXAS HOLD ‘EM”– Brian Bates, Beyoncé, Elizabeth Lowell Boland, Megan Bülow, Nate Ferraro & Raphael Saadiq, songwriters (Beyoncé)
Best Country Album
COWBOY CARTER – Beyoncé F-1 Trillion – Post Malone Deeper Well – Kacey Musgraves Higher – Chris Stapleton Whirlwind – Lainey Wilson
Best American Roots Performance
“Blame It On Eve” – Shemekia Copeland “Nothing In Rambling” – The Fabulous Thunderbirds featuring Bonnie Raitt, Keb’ Mo’, Taj Mahal, & Mick Fleetwood “Lighthouse” – Sierra Ferrell “The Ballad Of Sally Anne” – Rhiannon Giddens
Best Americana Performance
“YA YA” – Beyoncé “Subtitles” – Madison Cunningham “Don’t Do Me Good” – Madi Diaz featuring Kacey Musgraves “American Dreaming” – Sierra Ferrell “Runaway Train” – Sarah Jarosz “Empty Trainload Of Sky” – Gillian Welch & David Rawlings
Best American Roots Song
“Ahead Of The Game” – Mark Knopfler, songwriter (Mark Knopfler) “All In Good Time” – Sam Beam, songwriter (Iron & Wine featuring Fiona Apple) “All My Friends” – Aoife O’Donovan, songwriter (Aoife O’Donovan) “American Dreaming” – Sierra Ferrell & Melody Walker, songwriters (Sierra Ferrell) “Blame It On Eve” – John Hahn & Will Kimbrough, songwriters (Shemekia Copeland)
Best Americana Album
The Other Side – T Bone Burnett $10 Cowboy – Charley Crockett Trail Of Flowers – Sierra Ferrell Polaroid Lovers – Sarah Jarosz No One Gets Out Alive – Maggie Rose Tigers Blood – Waxahatchee
Best Bluegrass Album
I Built A World – Bronwyn Keith-Hynes Songs Of Love And Life – The Del McCoury Band No Fear – Sister Sadie Live Vol. 1 – Billy Strings Earl Jam – Tony Trischka Dan Tyminski: Live From The Ryman – Dan Tyminski
Best Traditional Blues Album
Hill Country Love – Cedric Burnside Struck Down – The Fabulous Thunderbirds One Guitar Woman – Sue Foley Sam’s Place – Little Feat Swingin’ Live At The Church In Tulsa – The Taj Mahal Sextet
Best Contemporary Blues Album
Blues Deluxe Vol. 2 – Joe Bonamassa Blame It On Eve – Shemekia Copeland Friendlytown – Steve Cropper & The Midnight Hour Mileage – Ruthie Foster The Fury – Antonio Vergara
Best Folk Album
American Patchwork Quartet – American Patchwork Quartet Weird Faith – Madi Diaz Bright Future – Adrianne Lenker All My Friends – Aoife O’Donovan Woodland – Gillian Welch & David Rawlings
Best Regional Roots Music Album
25 Back To My Roots – Sean Ardoin And Kreole Rock And Soul Live At The 2024 New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival – Big Chief Monk Boudreaux & The Golden Eagles featuring J’Wan Boudreaux Live At The 2024 New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival – New Breed Brass Band featuring Trombone Shorty Kuini – Kalani Pe’a Stories From The Battlefield – The Rumble Featuring Chief Joseph Boudreaux Jr.
Best Roots Gospel Album
The Gospel Sessions, Vol 2 – Authentic Unlimited The Gospel According To Mark – Mark D. Conklin Rhapsody – The Harlem Gospel Travelers Church – Cory Henry Loving You – The Nelons
Best Jazz Performance
“Walk With Me, Lord (SOUND | SPIRIT)” – The Baylor Project “Phoenix Reimagined (Live)” – Lakecia Benjamin featuring Randy Brecker, Jeff “Tain” Watts & John Scofield “Juno” – Chick Corea & Béla Fleck “Twinkle Twinkle Little Me” – Samara Joy featuring Sullivan Fortner “Little Fears” – Dan Pugach Big Band featuring Nicole Zuraitis & Troy Roberts
Best Jazz Instrumental Album
Owl Song – Ambrose Akinmusire featuring Bill Frisell & Herlin Riley Beyond This Place – Kenny Barron featuring Kiyoshi Kitagawa, Johnathan Blake, Immanuel Wilkins & Steve Nelson Phoenix Reimagined (Live) – Lakecia Benjamin Remembrance – Chick Corea & Béla Fleck Solo Game – Sullivan Fortner
Best Traditional Pop Vocal Album
À Fleur De Peau – Cyrille Aimée Visions – Norah Jones Good Together – Lake Street Dive Impossible Dream – Aaron Lazar Christmas Wish – Gregory Porter
Best Contemporary Instrumental Album
Plot Armor – Taylor Eigsti Rhapsody In Blue – Béla Fleck Orchestras (Live) – Bill Frisell featuring Alexander Hanson, Brussels Philharmonic, Rudy Royston & Thomas Morgan Mark – Mark Guiliana Speak To Me – Julian Lage
Best Instrumental Composition
“At Last” – Shelton G. Berg, composer (Shelly Berg) “Communion” – Christopher Zuar, composer (Christopher Zuar Orchestra) “I Swear, I Really Wanted To Make A “Rap” Album But This Is Literally The Way The Wind Blew Me This Time” – André 3000, Surya Botofasina, Nate Mercereau & Carlos Niño, composers (André 3000) “Remembrance” – Chick Corea, composer (Chick Corea & Béla Fleck) “Strands” – Pascal Le Boeuf, composer (Akropolis Reed Quintet, Pascal Le Boeuf & Christian Euman)
Best Arrangement, Instrumental or A Cappella
“Baby Elephant Walk” – Encore, Michael League, arranger (Snarky Puppy) “Bridge Over Troubled Water” – Jacob Collier, Tori Kelly & John Legend, arrangers (Jacob Collier Featuring John Legend & Tori Kelly) “Rhapsody In Blue(Grass)” – Béla Fleck & Ferde Grofé, arrangers (Béla Fleck featuring Michael Cleveland, Sierra Hull, Justin Moses, Mark Schatz & Bryan Sutton) “Rose Without The Thorns” – Erin Bentlage, Alexander Lloyd Blake, Scott Hoying, A.J. Sealy & Amanda Taylor, arrangers (Scott Hoying featuring säje & Tonality) “Silent Night” – Erin Bentlage, Sara Gazarek, Johnaye Kendrick & Amanda Taylor, arrangers (säje)
General Field:
Record Of The Year
“Now And Then” – The Beatles “TEXAS HOLD ‘EM” – Beyoncé “Espresso” – Sabrina Carpenter “360” – Charli XCX “BIRDS OF A FEATHER” – Billie Eilish “Not Like Us” – Kendrick Lamar “Good Luck, Babe!” – Chappell Roan “Fortnight” – Taylor Swift featuring Post Malone
Album Of The Year
New Blue Sun – André 3000 COWBOY CARTER – Beyoncé Short n’ Sweet – Sabrina Carpenter BRAT – Charli XCX Djesse Vol. 4 – Jacob Collier HIT ME HARD AND SOFT – Billie Eilish Chappell Roan The Rise And Fall Of A Midwest Princess – Chappell Roan THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT – Taylor Swift
Song Of The Year
“A Bar Song (Tipsy)” – Sean Cook, Jerrel Jones, Joe Kent, Chibueze Collins Obinna, Nevin Sastry & Mark Williams, songwriters (Shaboozey) “BIRDS OF A FEATHER” – Billie Eilish O’Connell & FINNEAS, songwriters (Billie Eilish) “Die With A Smile” – Dernst Emile II, James Fauntleroy, Lady Gaga, Bruno Mars & Andrew Watt, songwriters (Lady Gaga & Bruno Mars) “Fortnight” – Jack Antonoff, Austin Post & Taylor Swift, songwriters (Taylor Swift Featuring Post Malone) “Good Luck, Babe!” – Kayleigh Rose Amstutz, Daniel Nigro & Justin Tranter, songwriters (Chappell Roan) “Not Like Us” – Kendrick Lamar, songwriter (Kendrick Lamar) “Please Please Please” – Amy Allen, Jack Antonoff & Sabrina Carpenter, songwriters (Sabrina Carpenter) “TEXAS HOLD ‘EM” – Brian Bates, Beyoncé, Elizabeth Lowell Boland, Megan Bülow, Nate Ferraro & Raphael Saadiq, songwriters (Beyoncé)
Willie Watson has been a solo act for well over a decade, since leaving Old Crow Medicine Show way back in 2011. And while he’s put out records since then, in many ways his self-titled third release marks a new beginning. A lot of that comes from the fact that it’s Watson’s first solo work with original material, following two volumes of Folk Singer albums drawing from The Great American Folk Song book.
Watson worked with a co-writer on the original songs on Willie Watson, Morgan Nagler from Whispertown 2000, and the results sound like the sort of songs you’ll hear traded around folk festival campfires for years to come. The co-production team of former Punch Brothers fiddler Gabe Witcher and Milk Carton Kids guitarist Kenneth Pattengale capture the tracks in spare, elegantly understated arrangements with the spotlight firmly on Watson’s voice.
The album begins with a literal trip down to hell on “Slim and The Devil” (inspired by 2017’s white supremacist riots in Charlottesville, Virginia) and ends with “Reap ’em in the Valley,” an autobiographical talking gospel about Watson’s own long, strange trip. In between are songs about love, fear, the occasional murder. One of them is another cover, Canadian folkie Stan Rogers’ stately “Harris and the Mare,” and you’ve never heard a song that’s both so beautiful and so horrific.
BGS caught up with Watson on the eve of his album’s release.
So after so many years playing old folk songs, what got you into writing your own?
Willie Watson: I’ve always written songs, but never thought of myself as a “real” songwriter, like Gillian Welch or Dylan or Ketch [Secor]. That just didn’t seem like what I was engineered toward. I wanted to be that kind of songwriter, but told myself I didn’t measure up. So I got into traditional music. When I’d get together with friends at parties, I’d be more likely to sing songs that were traditional or someone else’s. Being in Old Crow was great, because I got to write with other people, mostly Ketch. Co-writing was easier on me.
Once I found myself on my own, I was very scared to write by myself. Being completely responsible for everything is scary and for whatever reason I could not bring myself to do that. Now I understand that no matter how simple, complicated, mature, childish or anything else I put into a song might be, it’s okay. I don’t have to tear apart and criticize, say terrible things about it before I’ve even written it down on the page. Left on my own, that’s typically what I’d do. It’s only now at age 44 that I can get past that. What a long road.
Do you remember the first song you ever wrote?
“Roll On” when I was 15 or 16. It was wintertime at my house in Watkins Glen, late one night when everybody else was asleep. I went out to smoke in the back yard and it was quiet. As I looked at the nighttime winter sky, I had this story come into my head about a cowboy in an old town. I wrote the words out quick, almost as I would have been playing it. Just looked up at the sky and thought of it and it washed over me fast. It was a pretty powerful first song, but I ignored it and have the most regret about that. For whatever reason, there was something in my life that made me not give it enough credit.
How did you connect with your co-writer, Morgan Nagler?
She’s a great songwriter who has made a few records, does a lot of co-writing with people you know. You’ve heard songs on the radio that she co-wrote. I was afraid to sit down on my own and write, and Dave Rawlings said I should call her. I was apprehensive about presenting ideas and words and parts of myself to a person I didn’t know, but it was immediately fruitful. The first day, four hours later we had a song I really liked, “One To Fall” – it’s on this record. That we came up with something I felt strongly about right a way got me fired up, so we kept going. Every time we got together we wrote a good song.
What was it like to appear in the Coen Brothers movie, The Ballad of Buster Scruggs?
It was amazing. They had me audition for another movie I did not get the part for, but they already had me in mind for the one after that. But it was terrifying. Little cameras scare me enough and the big gigantic ones are even scarier. Like a gigantic eye and you’re not supposed to look at them even when they’re right in your face. I’m no actor. I knew my lines, but did not know what to do. I called Joel [Coen] a month before to ask if there was anything he could tell me to prepare me. “The only thing I’ll tell you is your first instinct is probably right,” he said. Which didn’t help at all. On-set, I was still scared. I had to learn to get on the wrong side of the horse because of the camera shoot, which was awkward. So I was not knowing what to do until they took me to wardrobe. Once I had on the costume and the hat and looked in the mirror, I suddenly knew exactly what to do. When I saw how I looked, it all made sense: Just go out and be Clint Eastwood.
Fear, even terror, seems like a recurrent theme in your life as well as your work.
It’s a recurring thing for every human, if they’ll admit it. It’s so freeing to admit I don’t know what’s going on, I’m scared, I need help. So much of the time I’ve done the opposite and gotten nowhere. The only person making my life hard was me. Touring with different people, I see them get into stressful situations and I think, “It must be hard to be them today.” I was just like that for a long time, tearing through things everywhere I went. I was afraid and my way of dealing with that was to try and control things. A lifetime of that proved disastrous.
I got to the point of trying other things and eventually learned about humility. That started me changing and growing and recognizing that the only reason I made my life so hard was being afraid of everything. It’s so risky doing this and I am scared of it. I’m apprehensive about even saying that. The public wants you to be confident onstage and I am that. Sometimes not, though. It’s hard to put it out there and not be afraid. I’m gonna cry a lot in front of people onstage, and that’s brave and good for me. This record is me understanding that there’s power in those uncomfortable moments, and embracing them. There’s a lot of healing in being able to go ahead and do that.
Who are you dancing with in the video to “Real Love”?
That’s my wife Mindy and the song’s about her. Once we got together, it went quick with us. But there was not romantic interest when we met, we were just working together. She’d quit her job as a fast fashion designer wanting to do something fun, cool, more fulfilling. A mutual friend was trying to get us together, knowing she was interested in getting into denim work and that’s what I do. The friend knew I needed help. So she started as an apprentice, got good fast, and we ended up working together. For a year we sat and sewed together and became best friends, she’s the best I ever had.
I was careful about that relationship, didn’t want to ruin it. So that song’s about how it started and what it meant, how true our love feels. It outdid everything else I’ve experienced my whole life. It shows how every other relationship I’ve ever had, I wanted the wrong things and, I daresay, they all wanted the wrong things from me, too. It went both ways. I’m not even talking about romantic love. It ends up being about everyone in my life. The story of my love life is the story of my life, love in all its forms. It’s a bold statement that she is the only real love in my life so far.
How did you come to know Stan Rogers’ “Harris and the Mare”?
I’m a Stan Rogers fan and that song comes from Between The Breaks, a live album recorded at McCabe’s in Santa Monica. I was thinking, “Do I want to put this on a record with my songs?” I’d written simple rhymes, couplets that are almost kinda childish – and I’m gonna put them next to a well-crafted song by a master songwriter? But Kenneth and Gabe had heard me sing that one at shows for a while and really wanted it on tape, and I guess I did, too. And after the recording came out so awesome, how could it not be on the record? I found out it did tie into my life. We made this record and I was unsure if any of it made any sense. Once it was sequenced and I lived with it for a month or two, it came into focus. That’s a violent song about a man who doesn’t want to be angry and violent. And I’ve been that man in my life. I relate to this guy.
The other cover, “Mole in the Ground” – did you know that one from Anthology of American Folk Music?
Yes. I love Bascom Lamar Lunsford, he’s so weird and interesting to listen to. Those old recordings, I can’t listen to a lot of Carter Family or Blind Willie McTell. Three or four songs and I don’t want to hear more. But Bascom, I can listen to a good 30 minutes and that says a lot. Like “Harris,” that was a big puzzle piece where I was unsure how it would fit. What made it were the string arrangements. That tied it in with “Harris” and “Play It One More Time.” Gabe directed the string arrangement, but let them find their own way. It was a cool every-man-for-himself arrangement.
The closing song, “Reap ’em in the Valley,” really tells a lot about how you came to be who and where you are, describing an early encounter with a singer named Ruby Love.
I’ve always talked too much at my shows. But being alone onstage, I had to find ways to make it more interesting. Switching from guitar to banjo is a great tool in the arsenal, but people still got bored of that. Folk singers traditionally tell stories and lead sing-alongs. So I learned how to talk to people in a real personal way about mundane things, relating our lives to find common ground rather than tear each other apart. Just me up there, whether it’s in front of 15 or 50 or 1,500 people, it becomes a battle if it’s not working. Me against them. Sometimes it was a disaster, when I was not speaking from experience or the heart, places I knew. But once I started telling stories about me simply walking down a country road, they’d perk up and listen. So I became a storyteller. I figured I’d put one on this record, and that was one Kenneth and Gabe really wanted me to do.
I hope it translates. It’s my experience of looking back at evidence of what I call God in my life, how you can’t deny it. What I am now, Mr. Folksinger. That’s what people recognized me as, the place I ended up. It could have gone differently, but this is what I’m here for. Those impactful moments. I didn’t think much about Ruby Love over the years, until I started thinking more realistically and honestly the further I got from it. Meeting Ruby Love when my heart was so broken and how that felt, that’s what I never forgot about that night.
That’s the thing that stayed with the picture of it all, like a scene in a movie. That’s what vivid memories look like, movies. All that imagery rattling around my head. I relate a lot of that to the nature of God and God’s power in my head. It goes hand in hand with the moon and lake and sky, and how the moon affected Ruby Love. What Ruby Love did for that party and what the orchard did for his guitar.
In the catalog lore of Gillian Welch & David Rawlings, it’s April 14 that’s known as “Ruination Day”— the historically resonant date marking the “Black Sunday” of the Dust Bowl, the Titanic’s sinking, and the assassination of Abraham Lincoln. Themes of hard times and disaster have long floated throughout the duo’s music, but they found themselves facing catastrophe with new urgency on March 2, 2020, when a tornado laid waste to their Woodland Studios in their home city of Nashville.
That studio, which the duo took over in 2001, has the unusual distinction of being hit by three separate tornadoes over the years: it’s an unassuming icon of ruination and revival that’s withstood decades of change in personnel, technology, and weather. It became foundation and the namesake for August’s Woodland, a collection of new, original material from Welch and Rawlings after two deliciously deep archival releases and a set of covers titled All the Good Times (Are Past & Gone).
Having rescued their tapes, guitars, and other equipment from calamity, throughout 2020 Rawlings and Welch set about rebuilding Woodland around its original mid-century imprint. The creation of the record and the reconstruction of the studio became two spiritually intertwined processes, the rooms rechristened with songs that excavate the nature of change; Rawlings wrote violin, cello, and viola parts that friends laid to tape in the room he’d restored to its 1960s-era use for recording strings.
Even with the substantial building project, the extended pandemic circumstances offered ample time for writing new material together and the duo amassed dozens more tunes than they could ever release as one record. They ruminated on making a double album for a while. “We had so many songs kicking around because we didn’t want anyone to feel shortchanged if we were both singing,” Welch says.
A single-album concept instead snapped into place around “Empty Trainload of Sky,” which opens Woodland with Welch’s reflections on an unsettling optical illusion. The two tussle with loss and weariness across the record, gesturing at questions of how to keep moving through life’s seasons without hammering into any hard answers. Woodland feels like a statement of renewal and endurance from Welch and Rawlings, the sort of subtle roll forward that’s set them apart from other songwriters for so many years. The musicians spoke with BGS about their new material, old ideas, and what they still feel like they have left to do.
Prior to Woodland, the two of you had spent a lot of time working with your archival material for the Boots releases in 2020. What was the relationship you had between spending so much time working with this older material and then focusing your attention on a new record?
Gillian Welch: Not to put the Lost Songs stuff down, because I’m really happy that we, one, saved it from the tornado, and two, at that point, decided, “Why did we save this? Do we think it has value?” We decided yes, so we put it out. We haven’t given people a lot of opportunities to connect the dots between our albums. Years tend to go by, and I don’t know if they think we’re just on vacation or what, but we’re always writing. I’m happy that stuff’s in the world now.
I still stand behind our decision to not make an album out of that stuff. We’re really album-oriented artists,and if we can’t find a narrative that at least we understand, then it’s not an album. Sometimes people will put out a record and four or five years later, maybe they’re playing one song off it, maybe two. Traditionally, if we put it out, we’ll keep playing it, so we really have to like the song a lot.
So, did that archival material influence this record? Honestly? No. It just reinforced our yardstick, the filter we have in place, like, are we making a record? And the answer for all those lost songs was, “No, we’re not making a record.”
David Rawlings: We were working on some of the songs in late 2020, early 2021, but in general, they are not close in my mind. A lot of the stuff either took more final shape afterwards, or a few of the songs were kind of in shape before. But boy, working on those 50 songs was an awful lot and didn’t leave a lot of space for other things around it. It was really important, because that was one of the first things I was able to do here at the studio as I started to bring it back to life, post-tornado.
You’ve talked about having enough material to make a double album, how did you narrow everything down to the 10 songs that made the cut? What did you feel held these together?
GW: They seemed, in a way, to address the present moment. They were the most clearly about now and because of that, they seem to all fit together. Even though there’s plenty of contradiction within the album, there are these crazy undercurrents of loss, destruction, resurrection and perseverance; sadness, joy, emptiness, and fullness. It’s ripe with contrast. That’s just how we were feeling.
DR: There were different ideas, but I didn’t realize there was that large of a group, that there was the collection of 10 songs that felt like they amplified each other. I think all of the records that we’ve made that feel the best to me, one song sort of affects the way you think of the next and the whole album has a feeling that you’re not going to get if you just listen to your three favorites. I think that that feeling is heavier, or better. That, to me, is the benchmark of what you’re aiming for when you’re trying to make a record. One hopes that these other songs – one that you love for this reason, or that reason – that they eventually fall into some group like that. Or maybe we just start putting out singles.
Gillian, to what extent did everything you went through with the tornado recovery change your relationship with the natural world?
GW: I’m not sure that it did. I’ve always been really comfortable with the fact that there are things larger than us that are out of our control. It’s always sort of been a great relief to me, because I try so hard to navigate and control the things I can. Dave and I are such perfectionists. I don’t know how else to put it, except that it’s a great relief to just give it up for the things that are completely beyond your control. So I don’t worry about it really. The weather is going to be what it’s going to be. Woodland’s been hit by three tornadoes. Every tornado that’s come through Nashville has hit Woodland, but it’s still there. So I think I’m just not going to worry about it.
How do you feel like you both still challenge each other?
DR: Well, I think it’s the same as it ever was. If there’s something that doesn’t hit one of us right about something we’ve written or played, we will eventually come into agreement about that. I think we have a kind of way of taking what the other does, seeing what’s good about it and what isn’t. And that kind of ping ponging back and forth with thoughts, ideas, structures, and everything is what leads us to the stuff that we end up liking the best, and, more importantly, that other people respond to the most.
GW: I think we’re both still completely committed to trying to write better songs. It’s really interesting, because decades go by –we’ve played so many shows, and your voice changes. It just happens with the miles and it doesn’t have to be for the worst. There are things we can do now that we couldn’t do when we were kids, and certainly there are things that we can’t do now that we did in our early 20s. But I’m just so glad that there’s still a lot to explore. Musically, topically – I definitely don’t feel stale or tired of this. I feel like we both have a crazy sense of adventure.
What are some of those things that you feel like you can do now that you couldn’t do when you were younger artists?
GW: I feel like I’m able to listen while we play now, in a more elevated way. I can both listen to the smallest nuances of what I’m playing and singing and I can listen to what Dave’s playing and singing. I can make all these micro-adjustments to our four instruments, but at the same time, I can hear the sum of what we’re doing. I can also just listen to the whole sound and adjust for the whole thing. I’m not sure I used to be able to do that, or it didn’t occur to me to do it.
It sounds like a mixing board of the mind.
GW: Yeah, it’s like that! There are things that I admire so much in other musicians and sometimes I can see little echoes of that stuff that I like in our music, that we’re now able to do.
Whatever happens, at the end of the day, Dave and I are always pretty confident in, “Well, we did our best.” We really don’t slack off. If we missed the mark, whatever. You’ve just got to say, “We really tried.” It’s very exciting to feel like we’re getting closer to the music that inspired us to do this in the first place. We have a couple songs that I know came from my deep love of Jerry Garcia’s music and the Grateful Dead.
Sometimes, when we’re sitting playing in the living room, we’ll hit a passage and I’ll think, “Oh boy, Jerry really would have liked that.” That’s a good feeling, and that’s always been a great motivator – to try to do stuff that you think your idols would approve of. “Barroom Girls” got written because I thought Townes [Van Zandt] would like it. He was showing up at our gigs and stuff, and so I wanted to write a song that I thought Townes would like.
David, when Nashville Obsolete came out, you talked about this idea of keeping a place for old ways of doing things when the rest of the world has kind of pushed them aside. The last few years have had so much change, so fast – how has that idea developed for you?
DR: All of this equipment [in Woodland], almost none of it is new. It’s all the same stuff. It’s taking it a step further and maybe optimizing it for our own purposes. We’re still cutting on two-inch tape, mixing to quarter inch tape, and going through all analog equipment. The final step of going digital is the very last thing that happens. It’s not a museum, in the sense that I use a computer system – we’ve designed a bunch of DTMF code and different relays and stuff to run a lot of the equipment that we’re using. I will use modern technology in any way that I can that doesn’t touch the audio, in order to have things reset to where they are, or to have the lacquers cut with a particular precision. I will design whatever I need to in that department.
So, the goal is never for it to be a museum. The goal is always, how can you make the best sounding art? How can you do any of the stuff as well as you can? It feels the same with songwriting and music. There are modern songs that I admire so much, that you look and go, “How is that put together?” There’s stuff that goes back to the dawn of recorded music, from the late ’20s and ’30s that I think the same thing of. You just look around and cast your net at what moves you and what touches you, and then try to use those things as a jumping off place to contribute yourself.
At this point in your career, what do you still want to do that you haven’t gotten to do yet?
GW: I could say something quippy, like I still want to write a song as good as “Me and Bobby McGee” or “Like a Rolling Stone” or “Blue Eyes Crying In the Rain.” I still want to write a song that people will be singing for a long time. I still keep trying to do good work. Each song that we write is something that hasn’t existed before. So each time we start a song, I want to fulfill that inspiration.
So, you know, it’s like breadcrumbs— “Oh, I haven’t done that,” and you take another little step forward. Where will it ultimately lead? I have no idea. I’m sort of inching forward. Dave and I have never really had a grand plan. We just keep wanting to make music, so that’s what we do.
DR: I just always think that I want to get good at this. I really love the process of writing and performing in front of people, and have since the very first time I was able to get up on stage and play guitar. That was winning the lottery. When we started writing our own material and having people respond to it, there’s nothing really better. It’s a question of longevity, how long can we keep doing things and keep thinking of things that people feel are meaningful in their lives? How long can we stay relevant?
I don’t think that I’ll ever have a feeling of arrival. It’s all pushing forward. How can I play guitar better? How can we write better songs? How can I sing better? How can we record things better? It’s the learning that’s fun, it’s not even necessarily about getting better. It’s about wanting to explore and the pleasure in that process and the doing of it. I’m not real goal-oriented, there’s never been a statue I wanted to win. We’ve gotten some lifetime achievement awards over the past few years, and I’m like, “Are you kidding? We’re just starting to do this! I don’t know what you’re talking about!” It’s not memoir time, and it never will be.
Gillian Welch & David Rawlings are ubiquitous in American roots music. The life and musical partners have spent nearly 30 years defining and redefining what it means to be prolific bluegrass, old-time, and Americana inhabiters and masters. Now, with the release of Woodland, their first studio album in four years, it seems they’re entering a new phase of their illustrious and storied careers – one where their pace and positioning have changed, somewhat. Or perhaps, solidified.
Since 2020’s All the Good Times, Welch & Rawlings have not exactly receded into hermitage. They appear regularly as track features on others’ recordings, they released dozens and dozens and dozens of demos on several Boots No. 2: The Lost Songs albums, they perform regularly and make appearances on all star lineups, at ceremonies, and on tribute shows in and outside of Nashville. Yet, as with many artists responding to a post-COVID world, their artistry seems to be taking an intentional shift toward slowing down, acting with renewed purpose, and focusing on storytelling, canon-crafting, and legacy-building. But certainly not for ambition’s sake alone.
It makes perfect sense, then, that Woodland chooses the pair’s East Nashville studio as its focal point, the fertile soil from which this verdant collection of songs has been cultivated and through which they’ve been channeled. It’s a thread easily traceable across all of their work together, and separately as solo artists: To ground their music in reality and in their own everyday. For a pair of musicians who have inspired countless emulators and acolytes, it’s remarkable to watch them both remain committed to truth and simplicity, and to authenticity not as social currency, but as demonstration of selfhood and agency.
Welch & Rawlings are legends, roots superstars. At this point in their careers, we are viewing their brand identity’s realtime shift toward longevity, striding confidently into their nascent roles as Americana elders. Who could possibly be better poised for this new era? Woodland, as nearly all of Welch & Rawlings’ outings over the past decade, seems to say these two global stars would really, truly be okay if the music industry shuttered once more or if they never stepped foot onto a stage in a 3,000-seat theatre again. These are creators in this business for themselves – though never self-serving. The tableaus and dioramas on Woodland, iconoclastic and archetypical Welch & Rawlings, are never small, but they are often minute. Nuanced. Detailed.
This is Gillian Welch & David Rawlings, after all. Surrounded throughout their long-running heyday by roots-infused, vest-wearing celebrities and bands like Mumford & Sons, Punch Brothers, Old Crow Medicine Show, and many more, they’ve time and time again refused to allow their own art to be enveloped or eclipsed by Americana-as-costume, or to devolve into millennial “shabby chic” as an aesthetic, or to revert to Pinterest-style, cottagecore performances of wholesome, American values to make a living. They even rose above the reflexive pigeon-holing following the massive success of O Brother, Where Art Thou?, using the soundtrack and tour’s enormous gravity for a slingshot assist into the stratosphere, rather than finding themselves in a limiting though profitable niche.
They started their careers as many folk, bluegrass, and old-time singers do – putting on “poverty drag” to signal their commitment to these songs and sounds, slumming it and road dogging while building their business bit by bit, paying their dues, worshipping at the feet of bluegrass and Americana forebears. Over time, Welch & Rawlings shifted from being simply performers of these aesthetics to being residents and artisans within these traditions. Apprentices become masters, pupils become professors. And, now, they themselves are the forebears building standards and models for new, oncoming generations just as Ralph Stanley, John Hartford, and so many more did for them.
Woodland isn’t exactly a turning point, but Gillian Welch & David Rawlings are certainly entering a new era. While so much of what we know and love about this duo remains remarkably consistent across their music and releases over time (even going all the way back to Revival in 1996), this project reveals that only now, 30-some years since they began their journey in music, could Welch & Rawlings actually become the authentic Americana stalwarts that they’ve always strived to be. They’ve been dressing for the job they want the whole time, gradually becoming one with the characters that first stepped on stage those decades ago. Their catalog is a gradient, a line graph of growing and becoming, rising above theater and performance to a place of intimate self expression and respectful, expert mastery. However forest-for-the-trees it feels to state, these are no longer just the traditions they love, these are their traditions.
Below, enjoy our Essential Gillian Welch & David Rawlings Playlist. And, if you want more, you can return to 2017, when Welch was our Artist of the Month at the time of her Boots No. 1: The Official Revival Bootleg release – and revisit our Essentials Playlist from that time. Later in September, we’ll have an exclusive AOTM interview feature with both Gillian and Dave, so stay tuned as we celebrate Woodland all month long.
I first encountered Brittany Haas when I was 14 years old, attending the Mark O’Connor Fiddle Camp outside of Nashville. Brittany was only a few years older than me, but she was miles ahead of me musically and professionally, already gigging with some of the best traditional musicians around. I bought a copy of her self-titled CD and learned every single track on it. When I would meet other fiddle players my age, we would often bond over this recording and its shared influence on our playing.
Haas went on to join Boston-based band Crooked Still, one of the most influential string bands of the last 20 years. In the small community of acoustic music makers and lovers, Crooked Still was the kind of iconic band – much like Nickel Creek and Punch Brothers – that created a hundred baby bands in its wake, each inspired by the reinvention of traditional song in modern and exciting ways. There was even a period of time when seemingly all of the young women involved in the folk and bluegrass scene (myself included) began dressing like Haas, wearing messy buns in their hair and colorful leggings under short boho dresses.
Following her time with Crooked Still, Haas went on to play with Gillian Welch and Dave Rawlings, in the house band on Live From Here, and with her own genre-bending quartet, Hawktail – among many other projects. Unlike other powerhouse women instrumentalists like Missy Raines, Molly Tuttle, and Sierra Hull, who have carved out career paths by leading their own bands, Haas has stayed largely under the radar to the wider public, working primarily as a collaborator or band member.
As my own musical interests have grown and changed, I have found myself feeling guilty at times for not putting my focus on being an improvisational instrumentalist, fearing that I’m taking a too traditionally female path as a songwriter, and reenforcing gender expectations. But as Brittany has kicked through ceiling after ceiling as an instrumentalist, I’ve thought “Hey, it’s OK, Brittany is so good that nobody will ever doubt that a woman can do it!” For years, Haas has been a pinnacle, an example for the rest of us female instrumentalists. So, you can imagine the thrill that I felt when it was announced that Haas would be the newest member of Punch Brothers, a band that is representative of the highest caliber instrumental prowess in today’s acoustic music scene.
Haas’ first gigs with the band have been as part of The Energy Curfew Music Hour, a live radio-style show created by Claire Coffee and Chris Thile in collaboration with Audible. The show features Punch Brothers along with special guests like Jason Isbell, Gaby Moreno, and Sylvan Esso among others.
BGS had the opportunity to ask Brittany Haas a few questions about her career and her hopes for joining the band in the lead up to a handful of Energy Curfew Music Hour shows in New York City this month at Minetta Lane Theater.
Chris Thile & Punch Brothers perform at Energy Curfew Music Hour with Jason Isbell in December. Photo by Rebecca J Michelson.
You’ve had a lot of experience working with various members of Punch Brothers in different bands and formats over the years, what about the particular aesthetic and ambition of Punch Brothers made you want to accept the gig?
I’ve been a fan of the band for a long time – I guess as long as they’ve been a band. So the idea of joining was very exciting. I think any fan would tell you that there’s something about the band – the expansive nature of their approach to writing and arranging music – that is really unique. They’re making music that doesn’t sound like anything else. Getting to jump into something that’s been evolving and expanding into and beyond itself for so long is really cool. And as an instrumentalist in this “new acoustic” musical universe, it’s basically a dream gig, joining four incredibly talented and smart people and making music through which I know I will grow as an artist.
You’re known as a fiddle player that’s rooted in old-time traditions, but also improvisationally virtuosic. Do you feel like your background in old-time will bring a different flavor to the band moving forward?
Old-time is a genre in which I feel a lot of joy and comfort, so it’s always nice when that can be utilized in service of a tune or a song. Lately, in playing with my sister and with Hawktail, I also feel that my voice is strongly Celtic and Scandinavian – basically a combination of the genres I grew up around at fiddle camp and got obsessed with. I think that stuff will come out naturally no matter what new music we’re creating and perhaps some of the music will be written in that direction.
When stepping into a role that has been created and maintained by one specific fiddle player for so many years (Gabe Witcher), how much freedom do you have to remake the parts for the older material in your own voice?
I think this is true in many areas of life– the more deeply you know something, the more you can put yourself into it. Once you know intimately how it goes, you can be freer and more artful and playful with it while staying true to its nature. So that’ll be a journey for me with the back catalog material. Also, sometimes the parts he played were just the best thing that could happen in that musical moment. Some of the parts are more written than textural/improvised, so in those cases I will need to stay true to what he played. And I love his playing! Playing like Gabe is fun for me, because it stretches me in a different way than I normally go.
What made you want to wear a suit for this gig?
I’d never worn a suit before joining the band, so I saw it as an opportunity to try that. I always thought that the women I saw wearing pantsuits looked awesome. Plus it’s great having so many pockets for mic and in-ear packs. The other part of my thought process was, this is a band and I want to integrate into it, so it makes sense to wear the uniform. No one said I had to wear a suit. I’m sure it would be cool with everyone if one of them wanted to start wearing dresses, so it’d be cool for me to do that too, and maybe I will at some point.
You’ve made incredible records in a lot of different fiddle genres at this point, is there any uncharted territory that you hope to explore in the future?
The depths of my own mind! I’m partially kidding; I do want to write more music. But there is always uncharted territory! Darol Anger is an inspiration in this – he never stops practicing and devising new ideas for getting around the fiddle. I hope to keep learning tunes from different musical traditions. Lately I’ve enjoyed learning conjunto music and I’d like to spend more time with Eastern European folk music, getting comfortable in different time signatures, etc.
What is a record that has been inspiring you lately?
James Taylor’s album Hourglass from 1997. We learned a few of those songs to play with him on the show and I fell in love with them. Also Alasdair Fraser’s album Dawn Dance, which I returned to recently after first being obsessed with it about 25 years ago. It is still as lovely as I remembered.
What is your process for preparing to play with so many different guest artists on the show – how do you approach constructing fiddle parts?
Mostly listening. Generally, when we get together with the guest artists that’s when most of the decision making about parts happens. So my job is just to show up being familiar with the music. Sometimes there are more specific string-oriented parts to play.
You’ve been a part of the Live From Here house band in the past, how does the vision and format for the Energy Curfew shows differ from that show?
The format feels similar, although there is more of an air of collaboration, because there is a bit more time for creation and also the same core band for every show. And, the premise of the show centers on the idea of it being purely acoustic music, so that’s mostly what it is with some inventive ways around that rule when needed.
Photos courtesy of Audible. Lead image by Avery Brunkus; inset image by Rebecca J Michelson.
Doc Watson has been gone for more than a decade, and yet his music and legacy remain more alive and relevant than ever. And thanks to the ongoing MerleFest, which brings a wide-ranging cast from the Americana world to Doc’s North Carolina stomping grounds every April, that’s not going to change anytime soon. We consider the enduring impact of Doc through conversations with some of those who bear his stamp, including Gillian Welch and Jerry Douglas, in this special episode of Carolina Calling.
Subscribe to Carolina Calling on any and all podcast platforms to follow along as we journey across the Old North State, visiting towns like Durham, Asheville, Shelby, Greensboro, and more.
Music featured in this episode:
Doc Watson – “Sittin’ on Top of the World” Doc & Merle Watson – “Jimmy’s Texas Blues” Gillian Welch – “Everything Is Free” Andrew Marlin – “Erie Fidler” Doc Watson – “Tom Dooley” Doc & Merle Watson – “Sheeps In The Meadow / Stoney Fork” Doc & Merle Watson – “Poor Boy Blues” Doc Watson – “And Am I Born to Die” Doc Watson – “My Home’s Across the Blue Ridge Mountains” Jerry Douglas – “A New Day Medley” Doc Watson – “The Last Thing On My Mind”
Photo of Doc Watson courtesy of MerleFest
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