I seriously love sad songs and it’s honestly so hard to keep this Mixtape short. Every time I think I’m done, I remember another song that deserves a spot. Some songs are perfect for those late-night lonely vibes, while others hit harder on a rainy day. I just think sad music has this special kind of beauty that happy songs can’t match. It’s dramatic, emotional, and somehow comforting at the same time.
Honestly, this Mixtape feels more like a mood diary than just a list of songs. Even now, I know I’ve left off some that should be here which means I’ll probably end up making a “Part 2.” At this point I might as well admit I’m the CEO of sad playlists. But hey – you can never really have too many sad songs, right? – Jaelee Roberts
“Desperado” – The Eagles
“Desperado” is a song that has grabbed me by my heart strings for my whole life. The melody alone just has that sad and lonesome feel that I love so much. A line in the lyrics that always jumps out at me is, “You better let somebody love you before it’s too late.” That grabs my heart in the best way.
“Marie” – Blue Moon Rising
The first time I heard this song it stopped me in my tracks. The way Keith Garrett sings it is absolutely the epitome of lonesome. The song is about a man struggling his entire life to make ends meet and finally he gets a glimpse of happiness through a woman he meets, Marie, and she and their unborn baby pass away. Townes Van Zandt’s lyrics paint a heartbreaking picture of poverty and loss.
“He Stopped Loving Her Today” – George Jones
George Jones is my all-time favorite and this is an obvious choice, but such an important one! This song has often been called “the saddest country song of all time” and I might just have to agree with that. A short explanation is that a man lost the love of his life and he was never able to get over her until he passed away – that’s when he finally stopped loving her. That is absolutely gut-wrenching, but I am obsessed with the song and love it so much.
“I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry” – Hank Williams
I am a huge Hank Williams fan and I have always listened to this song when feeling sad. The way his voice almost cries when he sings it just gets me in my heart and feelings every time I hear it. I am a bit of a country music history nerd and I study a lot about the lives of my heroes and learning about him and this song – the lyrics are so sad and hit even harder when you get into the story behind writing the song. He wrote it after he and his wife Audrey split up amongst his struggles with addiction… it’s heartbreaking.
“Are You Lonesome Tonight” – Elvis Presley
I have loved this song since I was a little girl. Elvis was my first love and I can remember this song being one of the first songs to ever make my heart feel sad. I was just a little kid and thinking, “Oh my goodness, is he okay?” The cry and emotion in his voice is so tragically beautiful and it’s a go-to sad song when I need to hear one. The lyrics are so sad. When you hear his voice say, “…And if you won’t come back to me, they can bring the curtain down…” it breaks my heart every time.
“Lonesome Town” – Ricky Nelson
The first time I heard this song I was hooked. The melody, the lyrics, his hauntingly sad voice made my heart hurt in the way you want it to hurt when listening to a sad song. I really love this song!
“Both Sides Now” – Joni Mitchell
This song is filled with the most beautiful imagery. It’s about viewing love one way and then having your heart broken and seeing love a different way – seeing it “from both sides now.” It’s such a perfectly crafted song and Joni’s voice is so sad and raw on this track.
“Let Me Be Lonely” – Jaelee Roberts
When I first heard this song I knew I had to record it. If you can’t tell, sad songs are my absolute favorite songs and this one hit me hard. I am so honored I got to sing this one. I love the way that it all came together with the way the fiddle sounds so sad and then accompanied by the crying steel guitar (my favorite sound in the world). I love the harmonies that the writers of this song, Kelsi Harrigill and Wyatt McCubbin added. It just completed the lonesome feeling. My favorite lyric in the song is the opening line: “Don’t come knockin’ on the door/ That smile’s not welcome here anymore.”
“Chasing Cars” – Snow Patrol
I actually first heard this song during a heartbreaking scene of one of my favorite TV shows and I remember feeling so sad. Every time I hear this song I feel like I’m in a sad music video. Lyrically, the song is just so great. I love the chorus when it comes in strong and says, “If I lay here, if I just lay here, would you lie with me and just forget the world?”
“Manhattan” – Sara Bareilles
I am a huge Sara Bareilles fan and this song has always had a hold on me. It’s one of the first songs that made me want to play piano. Her voice and the piano work together to make such a beautifully sad song. The song is about finding love, sharing their lives together in Manhattan, and letting that other person have that special place when the relationship ends. The way it’s written is just genius, really.
“Weekend In New England” – Barry Manilow
The melody of this song is what first caught my ear’s attention and then Barry starts singing and it’s just so beautiful. I have loved this song since I was just a young girl and have always listened to it when I feel sad. It’s just a classic sad song and you cannot go wrong with listening to it over and over.
“Heartbreaker” – Dolly Parton
I can still remember sitting in the backseat of our car in the driveway at home – small enough that I wasn’t allowed in the front seat yet. My mom would turn on WSM and we’d sit there together listening to the Grand Ole Opry until it was over. I’ll never forget one night when Little Jimmy Dickens had just finished his segment and the Opry signed off. The DJ came on playing music and that’s when it happened – Dolly Parton’s “Heartbreaker” came on. In that moment, my world stood still. I had never felt so heartbreakingly sad from a song, yet so completely happy at the same time. It was the first time music truly hit me that hard and it’s stayed with me ever since. “Heartbreaker, couldn’t you be just a little more kind to me?” So, so good.
“Misery and Gin” – Merle Haggard
This is another song that I have loved as long as I can remember. The music and melody starts off and then you hear Merle’s voice come in singing, “Memories and drinks don’t mix too well/ Jukebox records don’t play those wedding bells…” What a perfectly sad scenario! Merle Haggard is one of my favorites and could sing anything and make it sound sad, which I love so, so very much. This song is so lonely, but so beautiful and the lyrics are everything a sad lonesome song should be.
“Cry In The Rain” – Jaelee Roberts
This song is so beautifully written. Penned by two incredible songwriters – Billy Droze and Chris Myers – it tells a sad story about being heartbroken over someone, but refusing to let them see your tears. Instead, you hide your pain and only let yourself cry in the rain. I really love this image – it’s sad, strong, and poetic all at once. To me, that’s what makes the song so special. I feel truly honored to have had the chance to record it and tell the story in my own voice.
“Between an Old Memory and Me” – Keith Whitley
Keith Whitley had a way of singing that made you feel every single word, as if he lived inside the stories he told in his songs. In this song especially, when he sings the line, “I don’t want to talk about it, why can’t they just let me be?” you can literally hear the raw desperation and aching sadness in the cry of his voice. It’s lonesome, it’s haunting, and it’s heartbreak wrapped in melody. I love this song with my whole heart – it’s everything I admire about Keith Whitley’s music.
Bluegrass and folk, Americana and country – it’s another excellent serving of new music in our weekly roundup!
Beloved long-running bluegrass group Lonesome River Band have a new single out today, “Square Dance Friday Night,” which you can hear below. Written by LRB member and artist-songwriter Jesse Smathers, it’s the perfect track for New Music Friday whether or not a square dance is in your future – and of course, one should be. You’ll also find a preview of an upcoming track from singer-songwriter Elexa Dawson, “Roots Grow,” in our collection. Drawing on connections to land and ecology, it’s a string-Americana examination of the cycles of life; it readily shows how and why Dawson can often be found on the folk charts.
Don’t miss Kentucky’s Nicholas Jamerson joined by Rachel Baiman on his new song, which drops today. “How Sunday Feels” is more than apt in its vibey, grooving observations of toxicity and duplicity in religion and belief systems. Impeccable guitarist, singer, and songwriter Jack Schneider, who’s a delightful collapser and combiner of genres and eras, also debuted a new single this week as well. Check out”Stone’s Throw Away,” a Barbara Keith cover that fits Schneider – and his upcoming album, Streets Of September –downright perfectly, shining with an indie-folk gilt.
We also have a special video treat this week, as we’re picking up and sharing a few performance videos from singer-songwriter Rachel McIntyre Smith from her Honeysuckle Friend Sessions series, which has been running on her social media and YouTube channel since October. Starting today and continuing over the next several weeks, we’ll share a series of three Honeysuckle Friend Sessions by McIntyre Smith and her musical friends and collaborators celebrating her recent EP. This edition features Smith in duet with Rebecca Lee Daniels offering a lovely rendition of Dolly Parton’s “Coat of Many Colors.”
Wherever you like your roots music to grow, there’s always a superb song just a stone’s throw away in our weekly roundup. You Gotta Hear This!
Elexa Dawson, “Roots Grow”
(Click to listen)
Artist:Elexa Dawson Hometown: Emporia, Kansas Song: “Roots Grow” Album:Stay Put Release Date: August 15, 2025 (single); September 12, 2025 (album) Label: Turns Out Records
In Their Words: “‘Roots Grow’ is a celebration of the cycles of life. It can’t be all ‘love and light’ all the time. When times get hard, I look to the world around me, to the trees and animals, and I see lots of things that thrive in darkness. I think we can channel that energy and get through the dark times facing us with the help of the tree folk, who are a lot older and smarter than we are.” – Elexa Dawson
Nicholas Jamerson, “How Sunday Feels” featuring Rachel Baiman
Artist:Nicholas Jamerson Hometown: Prestonsburg, Kentucky Song: “How Sunday Feels” featuring Rachel Baiman Album:The Narrow Way Release Date: August 8, 2025 (single); September 12, 2025 (album) Label: Cloverdale
In Their Words: “This song was inspired by some keyboard warriors who use religion as a weapon of condemnation, rather than a tool of liberation from their own ego. Universally, I hope anyone who’s using their beliefs, whether religious, political, or philosophical, as a shield to judge and harm others will hear this song and maybe stop and think before speaking so critically about others.” – Nicholas Jamerson
Track Credits: Nicholas Jamerson – Vocals, acoustic guitar, songwriter Rachel Baiman – Fiddle, vocals, songwriter Josh Oliver – Electric guitar, organ Steve Haan – Bass Mark Raudabaugh – Drums
Lonesome River Band, “Square Dance Friday Night”
Artist:Lonesome River Band Hometown: Floyd, Virginia Song: “Square Dance Friday Night” Release Date: August 8, 2025 Label: Mountain Home Music Company
In Their Words: “‘Square Dance Friday Night,’ written by our bandmate Jesse Smathers, is a story of years gone by in rural America. Growing up in the 1970s, I played so many square dances and gatherings attended by the unique characters described in this song. So many friendships were built in the VFW halls and community centers that lasted forever. Music and dancing was the main source of entertainment for working class folks and it was the way to end the week with celebration!” – Sammy Shelor
“The tie between playing music and dancing is a huge part of the culture along the Appalachian mountains. Growing up, I remember cutting my teeth playing music for dancers at local venues along the North Carolina/Virginia line. It has always been a beautiful community event. ‘Square Dance Friday Night’ is your invitation to a night full of fun and tells of some of the interesting characters you may meet while there.” – Jesse Smathers
Track Credits: Sammy Shelor – Banjo Jesse Smathers – Acoustic guitar, lead vocal, songwriter Mike Hartgrove – Fiddle Adam Miller – Mandolin, harmony vocal Kameron Keller – Upright bass Rod Riley – Electric guitar
Rachel McIntyre Smith, “Coat of Many Colors” featuring Rebecca Lee Daniels (Honeysuckle Friend Sessions)
Artist:Rachel McIntyre Smith with Rebecca Lee Daniels Hometown: Oliver Springs, Tennessee Song: “Coat of Many Colors” Latest Album: Honeysuckle Friend (Deluxe) Release Date: August 13, 2025 (video); June 27, 2025 (deluxe EP)
In Their Words: “Rebecca Lee Daniels is one of my favorite singer-songwriters, so I was thrilled when she agreed to be part of my series, the Honeysuckle Friend Sessions. Since moving to Nashville, she has become one of my closest friends in the music scene. We chose this song because we are both East Tennessee girls who love Dolly Parton. I think we recorded this in just one or two takes, because it’s such a go-to song for both of us. I’m so excited for BGS to partner with me on three sessions in this series. Keep an eye out in two weeks for another Honeysuckle Friend Session right here on BGS as part of ‘You Gotta Hear This.'” – Rachel McIntyre Smith
“It’s so meaningful to sing with one of my closest friends and collaborators – on my favorite Dolly Parton song, no less! Rachel and I share a common thread with Dolly in that we’re all three Appalachian women raised in the foothills of East Tennessee. As an artist who writes and releases Appalachian- and bluegrass-centric music, being featured in BGS is more meaningful than I can put into words and I’m so grateful to Rachel for the opportunity!” – Rebecca Lee Daniels
Track Credits: Rebecca Lee Daniels – Guitar, vocals Rachel McIntyre Smith – Vocals
Video Credit: Filmed and edited by Rachel McIntyre Smith.
Jack Schneider, “Stone’s Throw Away”
Artist:Jack Schneider Hometown: Atlanta, Georgia Song: “Stone’s Throw Away” Album:Streets Of September Release Date: August 6, 2025 (single); September 19, 2025 (album)
In Their Words: “My mission as a singer-songwriter is not to just perform my own compositions, but to preserve the music that inspires me, especially the hidden gems that deserve to find their way out into the world.
“Discovering Barbara Keith, who wrote and originally performed ‘Stone’s Throw Away,’ was serendipitous. I was in New York record-shopping with guitar historian Maple Byrne and it was he who stumbled upon a copy of Barbara Keith’s self-titled record. He insisted that I check it out, so I bought it at his recommendation. When I listened, it was almost spiritual how deeply Barbara’s songs moved me, specifically ‘Stone’s Throw Away,’ because of the line, ‘Georgia never looked so good as it does in Tennessee.’ Every now and then someone else’s words align with your own lived experience and this song is a perfect example of that for me.
“Recording it on my new record was also serendipitous. I had made a 4-track cassette demo of this song at one point, purely for my own amusement, and when my producer Matt Andrews (Gillian Welch, Dawes) came across the demo in a folder, we put it in the mix. Matt, never having heard the original version, liked how well it connected to the narrative theme of the other songs we’d selected. I am thrilled with how it turned out. Above all I am just hopeful to be able to draw more people’s attention to the music of Barbara Keith. She is incredible and I hope this version of her song does it the justice that it deserves.” – Jack Schneider
Track Credits: Jack Schneider – Electric guitar, lead vocal Camille Thornton – Electric guitar, vocal harmony Wendy Moten – Vocal harmony Dominic Billett – Drums Jared Manzo – Bass Matt Andrews – Organ
Photo Credit: Jack Schneider by Annie Loughead; Elexa Dawson by Lifeleak Visuals.
After a quarter century fronting the frenetic bluegrass and jug band outfit Old Crow Medicine Show, Ketch Secor is finally breaking out on his own with his solo debut Story The Crow Told Me. The retrospective record looks back on the past few decades, from his own journey to stardom spurred by a chance encounter with Doc Watson to the certified platinum hit “Wagon Wheel,” through the lens of a soundtrack that’s equal parts bluegrass and contemporary country.
“Because the band [recently] celebrated 25 years, I was already in the mindset of a retrospective look,” Secor tells BGS. “I was thinking about everything that’s happened and transpired over that time and started writing about it. In fact, at first I really thought it was going to be a spoken word record before the music eventually took over.”
Talking over the phone, Secor spoke about the timing for his debut project, its connections to both Old Crow and contemporaries like Dierks Bentley, becoming the new host of Tennessee Crossroads on Nashville PBS, and more.
You mentioned this album was initially envisioned as a spoken word compilation. What led to its transformation into a fully realized album?
Ketch Secor: I was working with Jody Stevens. We had written a couple songs that were largely based around spoken word and others we were looking to add background sounds on. Those sounds started getting more and more like what I already do, which is writing songs with choruses and verses and hooks. It just evolved out of the beat poetry version of the album, which was probably a little less listenable but closer to what I was striving for. The musicality of it is a bit of a compromise to be like “Well, I’m going to make this an actual record people might want to listen to” because the spoken word records I enjoy are not highly listened to.
I recently was trying to find them again since my record collection got lost in the 2010 floods we had in Nashville. I went on Spotify, which I’d never used before, to find all these songs in my head like Amiri Baraka’s “It’s Nation Time” or Moondog – a 1950’s renegade beat poet from New York – in trying to get an understanding of how the spoken word music I heard as a kid was being utilized today. It quickly became clear that nobody listens to that stuff anymore. [Laughs] So it seemed like making it musical would make it more fun for people.
It seems a bit ironic that you had to look up all these songs – many of which would be considered part of the Great American Songbook – on a digital streaming platform like Spotify. Talk about two very different worlds colliding!
I talk a little bit about that phenomenon on the song “Junkin’.” A lot of the experience of making music with Old Crow, especially in the beginning when we were still developing a canon, was about music’s physical form. When the band first started the internet was still new and we were still selling cassettes. The last time I made a solo record was on tape, the band didn’t have a website and none of us even used email when all of this started. It meant that searching for the physical was really important.
There’s another song on the album called “Thanks Again” that highlights the personal relationships that you develop out on the road – these chance encounters that are very much real and put the wind in your sails. There’s something to be said about having to come of age in a time when information was so tactile and often involved a human touch.
With the emergence of the internet and things like streaming and social media it really is an entirely different world for artists to navigate nowadays.
I realized that I had a kind of time capsule in my mind I had yet to crack open in the days before going in to make this record, which was done quickly and often with me writing the songs as we were recording them. Opening it up was really cathartic and essential for me to process and move past because the experience of coming to Nashville when we did and the kind of band we were in was, at times, slightly traumatic. It was a very intense quest similar to a military deployment, being a minor league ball player fighting your way through the ranks or even being a teenage whaler in Moby Dick. You end up leaving everything else behind in search of this one pursuit.
It’s not unique to come to Nashville to make it big, but what made our experience unique was that we were trying to do it with these traditional sounds in an era in which technological changes were happening as we were doing it. It was almost like we were going against the literal tide with our choices and artistic motivation.
You just mentioned writing these songs as you were recording them. Is that something you’d done before?
That was a very new way of going about things. I understand that record-making has changed a lot since we first started – our most popular Old Crow records that gave us a career were the early ones we made with Dave Rawlings on analog tape that we cut with a razor blade. Making a record the way Gillian [Welch] and Dave do is very studious, labor and time-intensive. But now the technology exists to do it super fast.
This record almost felt like a throwback to the seminal recordings of the 1920s and ‘30s that are the headwaters of our sound. Those records were made in three minutes oftentimes without knowing what the arrangements would be. Three minutes wasn’t the time frame of hillbilly music until the record company said it was – they just sat there, watched the light turn on and played. Writing a song and building a track like that actually felt really on par with what it would have been like going to Camden, New Jersey, in 1928 on a train when you’d never left your county before that. The challenge is keeping one foot in the past and one in the present. When you play fiddles and banjos and blow harmonica for a living the instrument kind of does it for you.
You name dropped Jody Stevens a few minutes ago. How’d y’all come together and what was it like working with him?
We met through my publishing company. I was going to do a co-write with him and knew he’d written a lot of songs for contemporary country artists, so I brought my bag of tricks that I bring out when I try to pretend I’m going to write the next big, top 10 country smash, except for this one time with Darius [Rucker]. I love country music even though I feel that in the past 25 years I have a whole lot less in common with it than I did when I was a kid, in terms of what it sounds like today in its mainstream output versus when I was singing along to Jo Dee Messina when I was 19. It was interesting to circle the wagons with Jody because he brought such a unique perspective in record making that comes from contemporary country music even though his roots are in hip-hop.
The other thing that brought us together was that Jody had seen Old Crow a lot, especially in our early days from 2000-2005, which is the sweet spot I try to explore on this record. He’d been there at the Station Inn and the festival Lightning 100 used to do downtown and some of these other places that have since been replaced by high rises. The fact that he had been a first-account witness to the band was really helpful to bounce ideas off of. His sister was also a big Old Crow fan and even though I’ve never met her I thought about her as my target demographic – someone who saw us back in 2001 and wanted to know what that time capsule looked like.
The fact that Jody had done all this work with people that rapped – only to find that 25 years later the tapes and demos he’d made with Jelly Roll were now part of a pop culture consciousness that hadn’t been there when he first started working on them – gave him a similar orientation to country music that I have about Americana. When I got started there was nothing called Americana and nobody lived outside of contemporary country music unless you were alt-country. Coming into this period of time in Nashville where it wasn’t yet determined that anyone with a banjo could make it that wasn’t bluegrass is another place where Jody and I shared commonality. The rap game has since become a massive component to contemporary country music similar to how Americana has become the tastemaker for anything roots-related.
In terms of the sound on this record, the way you move between more Old Crow-esque bluegrass and those pop country flavors reminds me a lot of Dierks Bentley, another person who excels at showcasing the best of both sides of roots music.
I came up with Dierks and remember witnessing his arrival. Before [“What Was I Thinkin’”] came out there was an issue of CMA Up Close that had a story about us on the page opposite one about Dierks and I thought to myself, “Well, if a guy named Dierks Bentley can make it, then probably a guy named Ketch Secor can, too.” Surely Nashville has the appetite for two oddly-named boys. [Laughs] Then I went on and took a moniker that wasn’t my name. Because of that I feel very much like a brand-new artist now and have developed a strong sense of empathy for the young guns who are out there trying to put their stuff out for the first time, because it’s so much harder now than when I was a kid.
What are some of those major hurdles you’ve noticed for new artists today compared to what you first encountered with Old Crow?
Now the way you stand out in a crowd is through visual means that often require the least amount of artistic acumen and the most amount of social media acumen. So far, I’m not sure it’s helping the cream rise to the top, though. The skill set should be how good can you pick a banjo, not how good can you pick the keypad on your iPhone, even though you have to do both to be successful today. When I was a kid it was about making these connections with people, knocking on doors so many times that every time something good came to me [it did] on account of me showing up and being in the right place at the right time.
Seeking a viral moment has an undue effect of potentially limiting the number of new entrants into the arena. For one generation, what was once divinized is now digitized. I’m sure that if there’s a God above that He or She can use the binary code to reach people and connect their children. I can pick up The New York Times and feel like there’s a closeness with the loss in Texas right now, which is only amplified by me having swam in the Guadalupe before and having a personal connection to the area. If you’ve plunged in the waters yourself then you’ll share something so much more vital with those who are experiencing the loss.
It’s really a metaphor for how we all have a shot at playing the Grand Ole Opry or going from the Station Inn to the Ryman like I did. There’s a turnstile in front of that and I want to see it spinning wide so that artists of all stripes can find their way up to that stage where they belong. As a steward of those stages, I want to see the people show up who have found music as the great connector that, regardless of the speed of the computer in your pocket, the speed of music breaks all other forms of sonic barriers.
In terms of personnel, what motivated you to bring in past and present Old Crow members like Willie Watson, Critter Fuqua, and Morgan Jahnig to record these songs with?
I really wanted to have all the past members of Old Crow on the record, because it felt like a bit of an offering to the gods to say “thanks.” So I really wanted a little bit of all their spirits on it. Not only that, but I read through a lot of old journals and called up some people I’d met hitchhiking, but hadn’t talked to in 25 years. I went and visited the guy who coined the term “Wagon Wheel,” because that song was always called “Rock Me Mama” until I met James Sizemore – a wonderful rascal and drug-dealing Vietnam vet.
I went to see him on his deathbed and recorded phone conversations late at night with old friends. While none of that stuff is necessarily on the record in its physical form, it all went into the process of trying to bake something that really felt like I was living in the past and bringing it to the present through these songs. I think a lot about cairn stones that the Inuit people up north call inuksuit, which are like sign posts that tell you where to turn, but they’re also spiritual. So imagine a road sign that could say “300 miles to Memphis,” but also told you the ancestral route of the settlers who first brought buffalo down 7,000 years ago, sort of like the duality of a time signature.
That duality of time reminds me of one of the album’s songs, “What Nashville Was,” which highlights how much Nashville has changed over the decades while also highlighting how no matter how many venues are replaced with condos, music will always be the city’s heartbeat.
A lot about the way Bob [Dylan’s] record Nashville Skyline had a way of pointing out Nashville for the first time to anyone who didn’t live in the South or listen to country music. He was really pointing to Nashville from a unique perspective and certainly Bob Dylan’s Nashville was the kind of Nashville that I was looking for when I first started playing on the street corner there in 1996.
Similarly, I was also looking for Dolly Parton’s Nashville. I wanted the Nashville that Dolly got when she stepped out of the pickup truck and married the first guy that honked his horn at her, the kind of Nashville where Willie Nelson was laying down in the street in front of Tootsie’s thinking he’s gonna kill himself because nobody wants his songs.
I used “Girl From The North Country” as the template for a love letter to a changing place and a cityscape that has gone on to do so much stuff that it itself is largely oblivious to the price it pays for its constant reinvention. And the price is that who we’re ushering in … is probably because you were on a reality TV show more consistently than because you had a song that people couldn’t stop singing at summer camps. Not that those things are good or bad, they just change. But we’re at a point now where the legend and lore of Nashville has grown so much that we’re at risk of the bubble bursting and it being something like Seattle after grunge or Austin after it wasn’t weird anymore – which is a glass, monolithic, industry executive business center. Oftentimes those forces stand in opposition to the ability of songwriters, hucksters, showmen, and the survival spirit that goes into creating the next Bob Dylan of a generation. I’m hoping that we, the architects of Nashville, can endeavor to build a place that still allows a hearty hero or heroine to come through the gates just like Loretta Lynn or Jack White did.
You were recently named the new host of Tennessee Crossroads on Nashville Public Television. How’d that opportunity come about and what’s it mean to you?
When PBS called me about this unique role that had come available with the sudden and sad loss of Joe [Elmore] – who ran the show for 30 or so years – it only made sense to find someone else to step in who’s also run a business for around 30 years that’s similar to Tennessee Crossroads. Old Crow Medicine Show has been criss-crossing the American south getting inspired by quilters, gee-haw whimmy diddles, carvers, and folks that plant by the lunar signs – those are the kind of folk heroes that go into our music. They’re also the same kind of stories that this show loves to tell.
I love public broadcasting and care a lot about access to it in this country. I made my television debut on our local PBS affiliate up in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia when I was in fifth grade. I fell in love with my own backyard because Ken Burns showed me what was so rich about it and so frightening and tragic, which was the bones of the Union and Confederate armies right here, just past the fence. Ken Burns really illuminated that for me and ever since I’ve been the biggest fan of public broadcasting.
What has the process of bringing this record to life taught you about yourself?
I was born about 35 miles outside the birthplace of Walt Whitman and always wondered why I like the guy so much. Then I recently rode my bicycle there and thought, “God, this guy’s place is really popular!” There were people sleeping on a stoop and waiting for a free sandwich in the parking lot. And it turns out where Walt Whitman used to live is like the center of the drug-addled corpse that is parts of Camden, New Jersey. It looks a bit like the Dickerson Road corridor, at least as it was in about 1999.
I feel like Walt really said it best when he said he contains multitudes on “Song Of Myself, 51.” I feel as a picker of banjos and fiddles and guitars and dulcimers and auto harps; and a blower of jugs and juice harps and harmonicas; and a singer of ballads and lamentations pretty songs; and [an attender of] corn shuckins, frolics, and cotillions, that I am like you, a container of multitudes.
Alison Krauss has been recording and releasing music with her band, Union Station, for longer than she’s been able to legally drink or vote. Along the way, she’s been a key influence in the lives and careers of countless other musicians, many of whom have recorded and performed covers of their favorite Alison Krauss material.
Famously signing with Rounder Records when she was just 16, Krauss has spent the past four decades offering inspiration to multiple generations of artists spanning many genres, from bluegrass and country to Americana, folk, and beyond. She’s collaborated with fellow legends like Dolly Parton, Neil Young, and Robert Plant, and her list of honors includes not one, not two, but 27 GRAMMY Awards. In fact, she’s the fifth-most GRAMMY-awarded musician of all time, across all genres and categories.
As we highlight the vibrant legacy of Alison Krauss & Union Station, our Artist of the Month, in celebration of Arcadia, their first album in over a decade, we’re carving out some space for the performers who have skillfully and reverently covered Krauss and her music over the years. From big names and bluegrass stalwarts to some less expected artists that land a bit further off the beaten path.
While not all of our selections are Alison Krauss & Union Station originals, you can tell each of these musicians have been distinctly inspired by Krauss and her musical legacy. The internet is chock full of Alison Krauss covers, and we think these are six of the best.
“Whiskey Lullaby” – Kaitlin Butts and Flatland Cavalry
Originally released by Brad Paisley on his 2003 album, Mud on the Tires, “Whiskey Lullaby” was penned by Jon Randall and Bill Anderson and remains one of Krauss’s most popular songs as a featured guest artist. This cover by country phenoms Kaitlin Butts and Cleto Cordero of Flatland Cavalry – and featuring multi-instrumentalist Kurt Ozan on Dobro – infuses fresh grit and intimacy into the somber sensitivity of the original. While it’s hard to compete with Krauss’s bright, soaring vocals, Butts honors them well while staying true to her own rich vocal timbre.
We also recommend checking out this version where Paisley and Krauss perform the track at Carnegie Hall back in 2005.
Plus, the pair recently reunited on the special Opry 100: A Live Celebration TV broadcast to perform the song, as well. It was one of our favorite moments from the event.
“The Boy Who Wouldn’t Hoe Corn” – Dan Tyminski
You might know Dan Tyminski as the voice of Ulysses Everett McGill (AKA George Clooney’s character in O Brother, Where Art Thou?), but he was also a longtime member of Alison Krauss & Union Station. In 2001, Tyminski arranged and recorded a version of “The Boy Who Wouldn’t Hoe Corn” for the band’s album New Favorite.
In this video recorded for BBC Four, Tyminski leads the charge, belting this stunning rendition of the American folk traditional. While admittedly not a cover in the truest sense of the word (since Tyminski also sings lead vocals on the original), we couldn’t help but include this heart-stopping performance with Jerry Douglas, Russ Barenburg, Aly Bain, and more.
Tyminski performs the song as a member of Alison Krauss & Union Station in this equally impressive video from a 2002 performance in Louisville, Kentucky.
Tyminski left AKUS before the release of Arcadia and has been replaced in the band and on the recordings by bluegrass veteran Russell Moore. Still, Tyminski does appear on Arcadia on a couple of tracks and he also co-wrote “The Wrong Way.”
“My Love Follows You Where You Go” – Lori McKenna
Another unconventional cover, Lori McKenna co-wrote “My Love Follows You Where You Go” for Alison Krauss, but she didn’t record or release it herself until 2013. Alison Krauss & Union Station had recorded and released it on their acclaimed 2011 album, Paper Airplane.
This offbeat love song captures the richness and complexity of Krauss’s singing and performance style; hearing McKenna perform it adds another layer of depth. McKenna wrote the track with Barry Dean and Liz Rose as a bittersweet love note to her children. She shared her feelings about it with American Songwriter in 2013: “I was able to sing it pretty well. Not as beautifully as Alison Krauss, of course. But I’m happy that one made my record because it is such a message to our kids.”
Watch AKUS performing the number on a live television performance from 2011:
“Let Me Touch You For A While” — Mary Spender
Mary Spender isn’t too well-known in the American bluegrass scene, but she’s an acclaimed British singer-songwriter and YouTuber. Guitarist Magazine even called her “one of the most dynamic, expressive young British singer-songwriters working today.” She’s one of many young musicians who draws inspiration from Alison Krauss.
Spender has one of those rich, soulful voices that makes you stop and catch your breath when you first hear it. It’s hard to anticipate and it’s also very distinct from Krauss’s light, angelic voice. But in this cover of “Let Me Touch You For A While,” Spender offers a simple yet jaw-dropping performance that boldly honors the original while taking things in a unique direction. Accompanied only by her guitar, Spender brings a sultry, driving energy to the song’s emotional complexity and leans into her impressive vocal range.
Originally recording the track in 2001 for New Favorite, it would go on to become one of their most recognizable hits. Krauss & Union Station performed “Let Me Touch You For A While” alongside Jerry Douglas at the Opry 100 celebration last month.
“No Place to Hide” – Adam Steffey
If you’re a diehard AKUS fan, you’ll definitely recognize Adam Steffey’s name; he’s another past member of Union Station from 1990 to 1998. Here, Steffey and his own band (including Tyminski) give a raucous rendition of “No Place to Hide,” a song Steffey recorded with Union Station on So Long So Wrong (1997). A straightforward “mash” bluegrass track, “No Place to Hide” booms and rolls with the band’s strong vocal harmonies and tight, effortless timing.
Here’s a much earlier live version of the song that’s got a more traditional bluegrass sound by Krauss and band:
“The Lucky One” – Jessica Willis Fisher, Gavin Trent
One of Krauss’s major country hits, “The Lucky One” was originally released on New Favorite in 2001. That same year, it won two GRAMMY Awards: Best Country Song and Best Country Performance by a Duo or Group. This stripped-down cover by Jessica Willis Fisher and Gavin Trent honors Krauss’s voice and musicianship in a way few other musicians can. Fisher has a similarly bright, soprano voice, and she can definitely hold her own on the fiddle, which she’s been playing since she was a child. As soon as you start listening, it’s clear Fisher is inspired by Krauss and this rendition serves as a fitting tribute.
A lifelong musician, Fisher has received praise from CMT, American Songwriter, and Billboard, and she’s worked with some of the same songwriters who write for AKUS – but it’s still possible you’ve never heard of her. Fisher has intentionally stayed out of the public eye in recent years (despite releasing her debut solo album, Brand New Day, in 2022) due to significant personal trauma tied to her family history. Fisher now uses the trauma she’s endured to help others heal, both through her music and her writing.
Alison Krauss & Union Station performed “The Lucky One” live on CMT in 2005:
Spring is a transformation. A reawakening. A rebirth.
Time marches on and no matter how cold the winter may be, the spring arrives and reminds us that we can start again. These songs represent that sound and spirit.
The past three years have felt like a long spring for our band. From writing and recording our album, Waving From A Sea, to now playing those songs every night on tour, we have found the warmth and growth within ourselves. – Michigan Rattlers
“You Must Believe In Spring” – Bill Evans
Bill Evans’ music sounds like the 30 minutes before sunrise or after sunset. It’s like wet soil for me as an artist – refreshing and fertile. – Graham Young
“Everything Is Peaceful Love” – Bon Iver
I’ve heard Justin Vernon talk about this record as finding what he loved again about making music, it’s a rebirth of sorts for him. Even the GOAT loses the muse sometimes; an inspiration for us all to keep trying. – GY
“Inconsolable” – Katie Gavin
I found a shaky fan video of this months before it ever went live and haven’t stopped listening since. To me, this song is about nurture versus nature and choosing to defy patterns and spring a new path for yourself. – GY
“Geranium Day” – Michigan Rattlers
This is a song from our new album, Waving From A Sea, that is about those moments that bring your life into focus. Times that make you feel the ground beneath your feet. It’s about making it through the transformation of spring into summer and soaking up every bit of the day that you can. – GY
“Joy Spring” – Clifford Brown, Max Roach Quintet
I love the melody in this song, it reminds me of spring. The standard’s title is the pet name Clifford Brown gave to his wife. You can’t go wrong putting Clifford and Max together. – Tony Audia
“Spangled” – Fust
Fust’s latest album, Big Ugly, has been in my heavy rotation this spring. The song “Spangled” features moments of frustration and doubt. I get the sense that many Americans are feeling the same way this spring. – TA
“Countdown” – Phoenix
The line in the song, “We’re sick for the big sun,” sums it up. You’ve gotta have a Phoenix song if you’re talking about the rebirth of spring. – TA
“The Birthday Party” – The 1975
This song feels like waking up to me. The muted instruments and the intimacy and fragility of the vocal all feel like thawing out after a long winter. Both outside and in. – Christian Wilder
“Tinseltown is in the Rain” – The Blue Nile
I fell in love with The Blue Nile about a year ago. I’m perpetually obsessed with how they make this song switch feels and sway using pretty much all synthesized and gridded out sounds. This song is for standing outside pub at 2 a.m., rain coming down, it’s April fools day. – CW
“Bright Future in Sales” – Fountains of Wayne
Every spring carries with it an inherent sense of optimism. This is gonna be the big year, this is the year it all happens, this is the year I get my shit together. Almost never pans out the way you think, but it’s fun to pretend. I got a “Bright Future in Sales,” baby. – CW
“Under a Stormy Sky” – Daniel Lanois
This song feels like spring up north. The weather is chaotic and awful, yet you notice the birds returning and there is reason to celebrate change. Also, those lines about feeling pulled toward the city resonate with me. Winter where we’re from is pretty isolating, and I associate this time of year with anticipation for summer festivals and baseball games and just being among people again. – Adam Reed
“Light of a Clear Blue Morning” – Dolly Parton
This is a springtime song if I’ve ever heard one. It’s practically perfect, I don’t think I need to explain it. – AR
“To-Do List” – The Felice Brothers
For me, spring always brings an aspirational feeling, more daylight, more possibilities. This song gets right at that manic but euphoric headspace that comes right after thinking, “What the hell was I doing all winter?” – AR
In the wake of several viral country songs released in 2023 – most notably the ill-conceived pair of Jason Aldean’s “Try That in a Small Town” and Oliver Anthony’s “Rich Men North of Richmond” – renowned author and country journalist David Cantwell penned an essay for TIME magazine with an absolutely stunning (while quite simple) observation included. Cantwell considered place, citizenship, and ownership. To whom does the “small town” belong?
“…For most of today’s country fans that small town isn’t TV’s tiny Mayberry; it’s a suburb or exurb of some decent-or-giant-sized metro,” Cantwell explains. “I wish more country songs would talk about that proximity, how city folk and small-town folk flow back and forth for work and fun – and are very often the same people.”
And are very often the same people. Humans don’t live their lives along strict, black-and-white boundaries and borders – no matter how often society attempts such demarcations. Our lives are lived in the gray, in the blurry in-betweens, as collections of many disparate and often dichotomous parts.
Singer-songwriter Olivia Ellen Lloyd is just such a person, caught up in the nebulous purgatory between rural and urban, city folk and country folk, doing it for herself and doing it for ambition. Her brand new independent album, Do It Myself, finds Lloyd with a sense of confidence that could only be earned through a hard-working, bootstraps approach to making music – a mindset that, whether within or outside the arts, is well known to West Virginians like herself.
After a stint living in Nashville, Lloyd returned to New York City, following up 2021’s fantastic Loose Cannon with the heartfelt, sensitive, and often point-blank songs of Do It Myself. Like Loose Cannon, this material is danceable, country, honky-tonkin’, and bluegrassy while it boasts deft and majestic moments of WV DIY, punk, and rock and roll. After crisscrossing the country proffering her art, Lloyd seems to have realized that being both a city person and a country person is never a drawback, it’s a superpower. Having her feet in NYC, her heart in West Virginia, and her work anywhere and everywhere, Lloyd has clearly determined it’s not a dilution of the “authentic” or roots-music-ready facets of herself to straddle these arbitrary borders and own that duality.
As a result, Do It Myself is remarkably successful. Like Hazel Dickens in D.C. or Dolly Parton in Nashville or Tina Turner in Memphis, Lloyd has found her voice and found herself not by running from who she thinks she can’t be anymore, or editing out the parts of herself that don’t seem to “fit” with country tropes and perceptions of good ol’ American rurality. Instead, she’s reached this current era of music making by resting easy – or not so easy, at times – in the knowledge that the best she can do as a singer-songwriter-artist is to be herself, whoever that is, in the truest format possible at any given time.
We began our BGS Cover Story interview by discussing that ongoing search for herself and how that particular journey shows up throughout Do It Myself – in the lyrics, sonics, and beyond.
It feels like your music in general, whether we’re talking about Loose Cannon or the new album, Do It Myself, you’re most often turning over the idea of finding yourself – and not that that’s a static thing to be found. It’s not that you find it once and you’re done finding it. Your music orbits around these questions of, “Who am I? Is this me?” I feel that really strongly in this record. So, as you’re releasing this album I wondered, who is the self you have found? And how goes the search for yourself?
Olivia Ellen Lloyd: I think what’s really interesting is I don’t know that I would’ve put a finger on that until recently. I’ve also come around to the understanding that that is what my music has done, which is help me come back to myself and find myself. I would say it’s currently going pretty well, but boy it has been a journey to get there.
I think writing this record, I was much closer to her – to me – when I started writing this record, but I wasn’t as close as I thought I was. It’s taken not only writing it and realizing that I wanted to put it out and all that stuff, but also deciding to self release it and deciding to continue to champion my own work where I’ve truly found that. That, “Oh there she is!” [feeling]. I feel very recently like I have arrived at the person that I’ve been looking for and that’s exciting and also really scary, because boy, has most of my work orbited around, “What the fuck happened? How did we get so lost?”
I once was lost, but I’m pretty found lately.
How do you feel about writing songs that are so personal and that are so much about growth, introspection, and questioning and then having to carry them around on your back for a year or two or three on tour – or for the rest of your life! How does that process feel to you or that emotional or mental understanding?
Interestingly, at least with my first record, I think I wrote often with no aim, so there were no expectations. I mean it’s funny, Justin, because you are one of the few people in the music industry and in my music world who knew me when I was writing many of these songs, but not performing often. The process of writing was very much a way to try and tune into this inner voice that I’ve been learning to listen to. It was an attempt to get in touch with myself, which I really have struggled to do for various reasons throughout my life.
I think I’m also quite an impulsive person, historically, and I have a lot of tattoos – a lot of stupid tattoos – and I kind of think of these songs, especially the personal ones that no longer represent [me like tattoos.] I don’t drink anymore really – I wouldn’t say that I’m sober, but drinking is not a big part of my life anymore – and all of Loose Cannon and much of this record involves talking about those moments in my life. But I have this tattoo of a possum drinking a High Life. That’s not who I am anymore, but that was a part of how I got here. When I think about these personal songs that involve a lot of myself and a lot of what’s really going on I think, “Well, that’s a part of the patchwork,” but it doesn’t have to be – luckily – the whole story or the end of the story, either.
The way that you’re utilizing so many different roots styles, it’s disarming of a listener, so you can have a danceable, honky-tonkin’ track that’s still lonesome as fuck, tear in your beer. It feels like it can still be very country, very Americana in the way that it is melodramatic, but it still feels grounded in reality.
I think that playing with genre in the same way that we experiment with different sidemen and co-writers is just another tool that we can use. I see a lot of artists, especially right now, there’s just so much pressure to hit. There’s so much pressure to hit on a vibe, hit on a moment. Part of the joy of this is playing in those in-between spaces and finding something unexpected.
Come on, if we’ve got Dolly and Patsy and Loretta, they did a lot of the groundwork so we should get to play around that space! We’re not gonna outwrite or outsing those women, we simply cannot, so the opportunity we have is to explore. I don’t wanna go back. I don’t wanna go back to any type of past anywhere. The future is scary for me, but I’m really curious about what could come next, after those things, and how we can develop those sounds.
You’ve spoken on social media and on microphone about your approach to genre and how so much of it comes from growing up in West Virginia having this agnostic approach to genre aesthetic, on a practical day-to-day level. You’re doing West Virginia music, you’re bringing in Nashville, you’re bringing in New York City. Can you talk a little bit about that?
For the first record I got the feedback that you can hear the country and the city kind of intermingling together and someone was like, “This [new] record feels like so much more New York.” I think I understand where people are coming from, but actually I think what’s happened is I built a musical community in New York City around bluegrass, which I think is one of the great community music forms. It is a great way to bring people together. I’m so grateful that I knew a bunch of those songs and then I got better with those songs and then I met people who were passionate about that music. But actually, this record was more about digging into the sounds that I grew up with. I grew up going to DIY punk shows, I grew up with my dad listening to the Grateful Dead, the Band, some Jerry Jeff Walker, Nitty Gritty Dirt Band.
I think this record really returns to a landscape that’s more true to how I was raised, which was eclectic, a little bit daring, and a little bit more rock influence. I think I’ve been quoted once and I’ll say it again, I think the reason that the places in West Virginia gravitate more towards that kind of music is because music got gentrified and country became this bizarre fascist, patriotic propaganda wing of the Republicans and of government.
If you are not one of those things, if you were not a kid who could afford to go to Berklee and you were not somebody who was all that proud to be a fucking American in the 2000s, you likely grew up listening to a lot of that. Especially in rural places, you likely grew up listening to a lot of punk, a lot of rock, a lot of indie pop. Like many people do, I walked way far away from that stuff and dug into the roots of country and folk and bluegrass. I swirled around in that stuff for so long, and then I came back to myself; I came back to the first music that really inspired me and felt less academic.
In my opinion, the most interesting part is all of those genres coming together. I do think that I’m very wary of anybody who talks about “good folk music” or “real bluegrass” or anything like that, because typically some very nice man in a fisherman sweater in New England has told them [to think that way]. I learned to like music the way that most normal people learn, I just listened to it and I didn’t worry about whether I was listening correctly or not. I think we gotta return to that.
Community has come up multiple times already in our conversation and I know how important community is to you – how pivotal it’s been in your musical career. How do you balance the “doing it for yourself” with the “doing it with community”? How do you do it for yourself and trust yourself and give yourself permission to be who you are and take up space to do it your own way, while also being a member of a community and doing it for the collective at the same time?
Have you been listening to my therapy conversations? [Laughs] I struggle with deep individualistic tendencies. I have a tendency to be like, “Fuck it.” That can also be bad. Notably, have yet to accomplish a successful relationship, because of this thing I do. “Fuck it, I’ll deal with it myself. I’ll just do everything myself. I will stop relying on you. I don’t need to rely on anybody for anything.”
I hope it comes through in the music that many of my songs, including “Do It Myself,” include enough self-awareness to know that I’m talking about choices that I’m making and things that I’m doing and they are not always the healthiest choice or the best choice. That’s okay. I think there’s a side of this where, yeah, I have been way too [self-reliant]. As I sit here selling shows out, opening for Jeff Tweedy, and unable to get a booking agent or a manager. Yes, I have isolated myself a little bit too much for people to be paying close attention.
Certainly “doing it myself,” in this context, many people told me to wait to put this record out. Maybe that would’ve made sense for a more reasonable person, but I think this is really important: Your community is everything. You need to be able to trust that the people around you are people who are willing to let you show up like however [you are]. In the last two years, I have focused so hard on surrounding myself with people who I know I can trust to both keep me honest and on my shit and love me through mistakes and they will engage in conflict resolution. They will be gentle with me and like I can do the same for them.
It’s not possible to be self-sufficient, emotionally, creatively, if you do not have a community that supports that in you.
I love that on the album you have “Live With It” back-to-back with “Do It Myself.” I think it’s pretty striking, they’re kind of a reaction or a response to the other – and vice versa. That line, “If this don’t kill me…” feels like such a natural lead in to “Do It Myself.” I wanted to ask you about “Live With It” and also about that placement of those, like bookends.
Thank you for asking about “Live With It.” My producer Mike Robinson is gonna be so happy and that’s his favorite song on the record. I mean, that’s my pandemic [song]. The chorus of that song I wrote during the pandemic. Looking back, it was probably also the worst point in my life for my drinking. I was at a point where I was not in control. Things were so bleak that it was like, what’s the point of trying to slow down or get a handle on it? There was no future to look forward to.
But by the time I finished the song, what I really hoped to accomplish is [communicating that] there are many times in our life where we have a pessimistic view on our own personal outcomes. We’re not really convinced that things could get better and yet there is an interesting tendency with human beings, we just keep going anyway most of the time. I find that to be both very curious and also something that is inspirational in its own way. We can continue to live and survive through unsurvivable things, even when we don’t know entirely why or how. That’s what “Live With It” is about. It’s four people experiencing something that they, for whatever reason, don’t see why they have to live through it or how they’re going to, but they do.
I also love the feel change in “Every Good Man.” So good. It’s nasty. That song is a bit like “Stand By Your Man,” playing with country tropes in a really fun way, but that feel change – I think I made a stank face just listening to it. Can you talk about that one a little bit?
Once again I just have to say, I think a lot of what you hear and the really cool musical stuff is owed to the creative partnership that Mike Robinson and I have. I can’t say enough good things about him. I met Mike at a fucking bluegrass jam and he was playing the banjo, which is like his fourth instrument, you know? I think these days he mostly makes money as a pedal steel player. Everyone is sleeping on his ability to play the acoustic guitar. Like, truly.
I met Mike six years ago now and out of the blue he coached me into a music career. He would deny that, but that is 100% what happened. He bullied me into it. And something I really love is that I can bring songs to him and he finds exactly [how it should sound], especially when he’s excited about the songs. Both “Every Good Man” and “Live With It” were definitely high on his list of loves. He finds these like beautiful moments and we have such a similar [approach], we were raised on the same music. For “Every Good Man,” that feel change came from some moment in a John Prine song.
Another song that I really like – it might be my favorite – is “Knotty Wood.” It feels like country. It feels like church. The lyric, “Who says memories can’t be bought? We always sold ours for a song…” grabbed me. You’re talking about how we compare and contrast and measure ourselves against other people and our perceptions of other people’s lives. “Don’t they look good when you paint over the pain and knotty wood?” It’s such a great hook. I love the imagery of it. I love that it takes me to my grandma’s house. But I feel like it begs the question: Do you ever worry that in synthesizing your experiences, putting them into songs, and taking them to the world that there’s any part of that process that is also “painting over the knotty wood”?
Yes, and my mother would definitely say yes. The genesis of that song actually came from my mother and I growing up in the same small town. I grew up a mile from [where she grew up] and from our home to her childhood home it was less than a mile. That house, my grandparents’ house, I spent probably two days a week there and almost every day after school I walked from my elementary school to my grandparents’ house. It was my home, too.
It got sold after he died, we couldn’t hang onto it. It got sold again during the pandemic by an actually really lovely woman. She started renovating it on Instagram and I watched this place that held generational memories be stripped in some cases to the studs and rebuilt. It was pretty public. I felt a sense of ownership of our place – that I do not factually own and never have – that got me. Being curious about place and home made me think about the journey my grandparents went on to become property owners and to become middle class. And about that moment in the height of prosperity in the ‘50s, all the things my grandparents sacrificed.
I think the song is about thinking about those generational ties, thinking about the things my grandparents sacrificed, and did not sacrifice or did not give away. I’m also thinking about how, especially right now in this weird American moment – “Don’t other people’s lives look good when you paint over the pain and knotty wood” – how many people want to talk about their humble, hardscrabble beginnings without having to actually live them.
There are so many other reasons why it’s taken me so long to get here, why it’s taken me so long to put my songs out. But it all revolved around the generational trauma of growing up relatively poor and with people who had to give up everything in order to get anything.
You can’t have it both ways. You can’t have the small-town, Appalachian upbringing and also have the confidence and gumption of [privilege]. I mean, it’s rare. It happens, but you don’t often then also come equipped with the gumption to believe that you have the right to be a fucking artist. All my grandparents wanted was just a nice home in a small town.
I’ve been hustling, self-promoting my own art and music, and in a desire to attain the things that the people I’m criticizing have attained, we get to the third verse. … The crux of that song is, I think, a way more interesting story than “rags to riches.” It’s middle class to rags.
I mean, my grandparents went to war so they could get an education, right? My grandfather’s nickname was “Bones,” because he was so thin he looked like a bag of bones. The trajectory of their lives into middle class comfort is astounding, and the way that his grandchildren and children are sliding back into poverty is much more so. It’s much more true to what is happening in this country than this “rags to riches” bullshit that we are still being asked to sell, but it’s trickier to talk about.
To celebrate Black History Month – and the vital contributions of Black, Afro-, and African American artists and musicians to American roots music – BGS, Good Country, and our friends at Real Roots Radio in Southwestern Ohio have partnered once again. This time, we’ve brought you weekly collections of a variety of Black roots musicians who have been featured on Real Roots Radio’s airwaves. You can listen to Real Roots Radio online 24/7 or via their FREE app for smartphones or tablets. If you’re based in Ohio, tune in via 100.3 (Xenia, Dayton, Springfield), 106.7 (Wilmington), or 105.5 (Eaton).
American roots music – in any of its many forms – wouldn’t exist today without the culture, stories, skills, and experiences of Black folks. Each week throughout February, we’ve been spotlighting this simple yet profound fact by diving into the catalogs and careers of some of the most important figures in our genres. For week four of our celebration, RRR host Daniel Mullins shares songs and stories of Charley Pride, Mavis Staples, Chapel Hart, Carolina Chocolate Drops, and Philip Paul. Be sure to check out week 1,week 2, and week 3 of the series, too.
Today is February 28, so sadly this will be the final installment of our Black History Month celebrations this year. But, as always, we’re committed to bringing you even more music celebrating Black History – and the songs and sounds we all hold dear – not just in February, but year-round.
Plus, you can find a full playlist with more than 100 songs below from dozens and dozens of seminal artists, performers, songwriters, and instrumentalists from every corner of folk, country, bluegrass, old-time, blues, and beyond.
Black history is American roots music history; the two are inseparable. As we celebrate Black History Month and its legacy throughout the year, we hope you’ll join us in holding up and appreciating the artists who make country, bluegrass, blues, folk, and Americana the incredible and impactful genres that they are today.
Chapel Hart (est. 2014)
If you haven’t heard of Chapel Hart yet, it’s time to change that! This powerhouse trio – Danica, Devynn, and Trea – are taking the country music world by storm with their soulful harmonies, fiery energy, and a whole lot of heart. Hailing from Poplarville, Mississippi, these ladies bring a fresh and fearless sound to country music with their family harmonies; Danica and Devynn are sisters, while Trea is their cousin.
The group first began their musical journey by busking on the streets of New Orleans. In 2021 they were among CMT’s Next Women of Country, before making their way to America’s Got Talent in 2022. Their unforgettable run on the hit music competition television show is where the nation first heard their breakout hit, “You Can Have Him, Jolene,” an answer song to the Dolly Parton classic.
Since their time on the competition, Chapel Hart have released “Welcome to Fist City” as well, in response to Loretta Lynn’s fiery “Fist City” per Loretta’s request. They have been frequent performers on the Grand Ole Opry, and have recorded collaborations with Darius Rucker, Vince Gill, The Isaacs and more. Chapel Hart are proving that country music is alive and well – and full of girl power!
You know Mavis Staples as the gospel and soul legend, but did you know she’s got deep country connections as well? That’s right, her powerful voice and storytelling fit right into the heart of country music.
Mavis grew up singing gospel with the Staples Singers, even marching with Dr. Martin Luther King, before finding success in R&B and beyond. However, her musical influences also include listening to Hank Williams and the Grand Ole Opry. She once said, “Country music is just another way of telling the truth” – and if anyone knows about truth in music, it’s Mavis Staples.
Over the years, her stellar career has included forays into country that include collaborations with George Jones (“Will The Circle Be Unbroken”), Willie Nelson (“Grandma’s Hands”), and Dolly Parton (“Why”). Staples’ recording of “Touch My Heart” for the 2004 tribute to Johnny Paycheck is a masterpiece. She and Marty Stuart are dear friends and mutual admirers of one another’s music. Together, they have recorded wonderful renditions of “Uncloudy Day,” “Move Along Train,” and “The Weight.”
Staples and Stuart were part of a show-stopping performance on the CMA Awards a few years ago alongside Chris & Morgane Stapleton and Maren Morris, tackling Stapleton’s “Friendship” and the Staple Singers’ classic, “I’ll Take You There” in an awards show mash-up.
Mavis Staples is a member of the Gospel, Blues, and Rock & Roll Halls of Fame. Whether it’s gospel, soul, or country, her voice carries a message of love, hope, and resilience.
Let’s shine a spotlight on a group that revolutionized old-time string music – Carolina Chocolate Drops. Formed in 2005 by young twenty-somethings Rhiannon Giddens, Dom Flemons, and Justin Robinson after attending the first Black Banjo Gathering in Boone, North Carolina, they revived the nearly forgotten Black string band tradition.
Inspired by the legendary Black North Carolinian fiddler Joe Thompson, Carolina Chocolate Drops brought energy, authenticity, and a fresh perspective to Appalachian folk music and were a powerhouse on stage. The first African American string band to perform at the historic Grand Ole Opry, their GRAMMY-winning 2010 album Genuine Negro Jig fused tradition with innovation, blending deep-rooted folk with modern influences and proving that history and rhythm go hand in hand.
Carolina Chocolate Drops didn’t just perform, they educated, too, sparking a renewed appreciation for African American contributions to folk and traditional music. Over the years they would open for Taj Mahal and Bob Dylan, perform at events like MerleFest and ROMP, appear on Prairie Home Companion and BBC Radio, and even contributed to the soundtrack of The Hunger Games. Though they’ve since been on a hiatus for the last decade plus, their impact on American roots music is undeniable. Look for a reunion at Biscuits & Banjos festival in downtown Durham, North Carolina, in April.
He broke barriers and made history. Charley Pride, the son of sharecroppers, a Negro league baseball player, and the Pride of Sledge, Mississippi, became a country music legend.
In the 1960s, when country music was overwhelmingly white, Pride’s rich baritone and heartfelt songs won over audiences. At the urging of Red Sovine and Red Foley, Pride pursued a career as a country recording artist. Cowboy Jack Clement brought some of Charley’s demos to Chet Atkins and he was signed to RCA Records. His first big hit, “Just Between You and Me,” earned him a GRAMMY nomination and soon he was topping the charts with classics like “Kiss an Angel Good Mornin’.” His popularity was undeniable, outselling all of his RCA labelmates except Elvis Presley during his peak.
With over 50 Top-Ten hits and more than 30 Number Ones, Pride became country’s first Black superstar – earning the CMA’s Entertainer of the Year award in 1971. His nationwide popularity was such that in 1974 he became the first recording artist to perform the National Anthem at the Super Bowl.
“Is Anybody Goin’ to San Antone,” “Mississippi Cotton Picking Delta Town,” “All I Have to Offer You (Is Me),” “Roll On Mississippi,” “You’re So Good When You’re Bad,” and dozens of others are essential country listening. Pride would be only the second African American made a member of the Grand Ole Opry and the first Black artist inducted into the Country Music Hall of Fame. His music broke racial barriers, his talent captivated millions, and his legacy? It still inspires artists today.
Charley Pride wasn’t just a country star – he was a pioneer.
Philip Paul was a legendary drummer who made history in Cincinnati for decades, making major contributions to classic recordings in rock, blues, country, jazz, bluegrass, and more. Born in Harlem in New York City, he moved to Cincinnati at the urging of jazz legend of Tiny Bradshaw, to join Tony’s band. Post-WWII, Cincinnati became a hub of various music – including bluegrass – thanks to an influx of people migrating to the area for factory work. While playing in jazz clubs in the Queen City, Paul met Bluegrass Music Hall of Fame member Syd Nathan. For a dozen years, Philip Paul was a member of the house band at Syd Nathan’s King Records, where he appeared on countless classic recordings by Cowboy Copas, Hank Ballard, Freddie King, The Stanley Brothers, and more – over 350 records.
Paul is playing on drums on such American classics recorded in Cincinnati as “Fever” (Little Willie John), “Soft” (Tiny Bradshaw), “Alabam’” (Cowboy Copas), “Please Come Home For Christmas” (Charles Brown), and so many more – including the bulk of Freddie King’s catalog. He is also responsible for laying down the rhythm on the original recording of “The Twist” for Hank Ballard & The Midnighters before it was covered by Chubby Checker. In addition he performed on Hank Ballard’s “Finger Poppin’ Time” and added percussion on the overdubbed version by King recording artists, The Stanley Brothers.
For the ensuing decades, Paul would consistently perform at various jazz nightclubs around the Cincinnati area. He received Ohio Heritage Fellowship honors in 2009, the same year he was recognized for his remarkable career during a special presentation at the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame and Museum. The museum’s president at the time, Terry Stewart, had this to say: “If someone were to try to isolate the single heartbeat of the early days of rock and roll, as it transitions from ‘race music’ to ‘rhythm & blues’ to whatever you want to call what early rock and roll is, that heartbeat is Philip. [He is] the thread that runs through so much of the important music of that period.”
Philip Paul even contributed to the 2021 IBMA Album of the Year, Industrial Strength Bluegrass: Southwestern Ohio’s Musical Legacy, playing drums on “Mountain Strings” (Sierra Hull), “Readin’ ‘Rightin’ Route 23” (Joe Mullins & The Radio Ramblers), and “Are You Missing Me” (Dailey & Vincent). These would be the final recordings of Philip Pauls’ remarkable career in American music. He passed away in January 2022 at the age of 96. Phil Paul played drums on some of the most famous recordings in American history, and he did it all at Cincinnati’s King Records!
It’s Valentine’s Day again, which means we’re all wading through a saccharine sea of pink-and-red grocery store displays, sentimental commercials for overpriced jewelry, and unsolicited reminders of how dreamy love is supposed to feel. But country doesn’t shy away from the gritty, painful sides of love – and neither do we. So, if you need an escape from the nausea-inducing love parade this year, we’ve got you covered.
From classic pleas like Dolly Parton’s “Jolene” to rage-filled revenge ballads like Miranda Lambert’s “Gunpowder & Lead,” this Good Country playlist is packed full of songs about betrayal, heartbreak, regret, and unfaithful partners. Whether you’re recovering from a recent stab in the back or staving off memories of a long-lost love, these songs will ride with you through the pain and see you to the other side of another gruelling Valentine’s Day season.
Check out a few of our favorites and below you’ll find over four hours of cheatin’ songs on our Good Country playlist on Spotify.
“Does My Ring Hurt Your Finger” – Charley Pride
Jerry Crutchfield and Don Robertson mastered the art of the gentle-yet-cutting callout when they wrote this song for Charley Pride back in 1967. Released on Pride’s third album, The Country Way, “Does My Ring Hurt Your Finger” tells the story of a kind and understanding husband whose wife just can’t seem to keep her wedding ring on when she goes out on the town.
Unlike a lot of cheating songs that devolve (understandably) into anger and spite, this one holds a certain gentleness that we can really appreciate. Pride’s voice is booming and rich, but it’s also tender and emotive as he essentially says, “Hey, not to step on any toes here, but would you mind not pretending you’re single every time you go out? Thanks.”
“Whispering Waltz” – Sierra Ferrell
Sierra Ferrell’s “Whispering Waltz” is an earnest and sorrowful song of surrender. Showcasing the clear, subtle qualities of Ferrell’s voice, this short and sweet waltz holds no anger or contempt – just simple sadness and the acceptance of having been betrayed.
While much of Ferrell’s music highlights her skill as a belter and larger-than-life performer, this tune underlines her talent as a songwriter. But the recent four-time GRAMMY winner is no stranger to writing mic-drop-worthy cheating songs. One of her earliest hits, “Rosemary” (which originally garnered attention as a Gems on VHS field recording on YouTube) tells a time-tested and brutal tale of a woman who murders her disloyal partner’s mistress and buries her under a flower bush.
While of course we absolutely do not condone this kind of unhinged behavior, both “Rosemary” and “Whispering Waltz” are some of the best country songs about cheating and betrayal penned and performed in recent decades. And murder ballads, after all, have been a country tradition since time immemorial.
“Your Cheatin’ Heart” – Hank Williams
It may seem like too obvious a choice, but this list just wouldn’t feel complete without a nod to one of Hank Williams’ most famous songs – and one of the most well-known country cheatin’ songs ever recorded.
Written nearly 75 years ago, “Your Cheatin’ Heart” has been resonating with scorned lovers everywhere since its release in 1952. A great example of Williams’ knack for timeless storytelling and a brilliantly simple song structure, this country classic won’t make your heartbreak go away, but it might make it just a little easier to bear (at least for two minutes and 41 seconds).
“Gaslighter” – The Chicks
This fiery 2020 release from country superstars The Chicks is electrifying from its first belted notes to its last. An extremely personal song written by the band’s longtime frontperson, Natalie Maines, “Gaslighter” is direct, confronting, and does not mince words. We won’t name any names, but we wouldn’t have wanted to be in Maines’s ex-husband’s shoes when this banger first dropped.
For anyone out there who’s ever been cheated on, lied to, or misled by a long-term partner, “Gaslighter” offers an empowering boost of righteous redemption and brutal-yet-necessary honesty. In the words of one anonymous commenter on YouTube, “If you can’t afford therapy, listening to this song about 20 times on repeat works.”
“I’m Gonna Sleep with One Eye Open” – Dolly Parton
Written by Lester Flatt and first recorded by Flatt & Scruggs in 1955, “I’m Gonna Sleep With One Eye Open” is an irresistible bluegrass take on the classic cheatin’ song. Dolly Parton’s version, recorded for her 1999 album, The Grass Is Blue, might help cheer you up if you’re feeling down and out this Valentine’s Day. (Because really, who can be in a bad mood while listening to Dolly Parton?)
Of course, Dolly’s better known for a different song about jealousy and the risk of betrayal – her 1973 megahit, “Jolene,” which is quite possibly the most well-loved and well-known country song to ever hit the airwaves. In 2024, Rolling Stone named “Jolene” the greatest country song of all time, calling it “the ultimate country heartbreak song” – and we won’t dare disagree.
“Fist City” – Loretta Lynn
Before Dolly Parton’s “Jolene” there was Loretta Lynn’s “Fist City.” With both dukes up, Lynn wrote this iconic country diss track in 1968, allegedly inspired by her real-life husband’s habit of cavorting with other women. But while the song quickly reached number one on the Billboard Hot Country Singles chart after its release, it was soon banned by most major radio stations for its controversial theme. (That is, Lynn threatening to beat people up for hitting on her husband).
Lynn went on to have upwards of a dozen songs banned from various radio stations throughout her career, because they often addressed feminist themes (though Lynn herself didn’t identify as a feminist). In fact, some radio stations still won’t play Lynn’s song “The Pill,” a single released in 1975 about birth control and sexual freedom. This Valentine’s Day, we’ll be blasting “Fist City” in honor of Lynn, who passed in 2022, and in honor of everyone else who’s ever been wronged by someone who made promises they weren’t prepared to keep.
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Lead Image: Audrey & Hank Williams by Henry Schofield (1951), courtesy of the Country Music Hall of Fame.
Editor’s Note: Each issue of Good Country, our co-founder Ed Helms will share a handful of good country artists, albums, and songs direct from his own earphones in Ed’s Picks.
Sabrina Carpenter
Stop everything!! Sabrina Carpenter’s deluxe edition of Short n’ Sweet released today, featuring Dolly Parton herself on a new version of “Please Please Please” – and, thank you!
Olivia Ellen Lloyd
An honest, down to earth country singer-songwriter from West Virginia, the self-sufficient Olivia Ellen Lloyd will release her lovely new honky-tonkin’ album, Do It Myself, in March.
Kacey Musgraves
“The Architect” as Best Country Song? Another one the GRAMMYs got right this year. Even if you never stopped listening, it’s the perfect time to return to this Good Country track.
Indie folk with string band bones from Montana (via Nashville), we’re excited for TopHouse’s new EP, Practice – and that they’ll play our stage at Bourbon & Beyond later this year.
Cristina Vane
Hundreds of thousands of fans adore the blues, bluegrass, Americana, and country combinations of Cristina Vane and her slide guitar. Her latest, Hear My Call, is out next week.
Sunny War
Our BGS Artist of the Month, Sunny War brings together fingerpicking, blues, punk – and so much more. Her newest, Armageddon in a Summer Dress, is timely, fierce, and excellent.
Dive into our Artist of the Month coverage on BGS.
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Photo Credits: Sabrina Carpenter, Short n’ Sweet; Olivia Ellen Lloyd by Aaron May; Kacey Musgraves by Kelly Christine Sutton; TopHouse courtesy of the artist; Cristina Vane courtesy of the artist; Sunny War by Joshua Black Wilkins.
I meet Swedish performer and singer-songwriter Sarah Klang in the glorious maximalist backstage area at Nashville’s the Blue Room before her first-ever Music City show in mid-January. She’s cozy on the couch, a tin of pouched nicotine by her side, a hippo skull on the coffee table in front of us, and her brand new album, Beautiful Woman (out February 7) on our minds. The first thing I notice – besides her beautiful tattoos and the shimmering gemstone stud on one of her teeth – is her gaudy and gorgeous red-white-and-blue acrylic nails. Complete with rhinestones and glitter.
To Klang, the country aesthetic is the “coolest,” and in her part of the world she’s seen as something of a country queen. Her work across her discography varies greatly in genres and sonics, including folk, indie, pop, Americana, and so much more. But Beautiful Woman, which was produced by Eric D. Johnson (Fruit Bats, Bonny Light Horseman) doesn’t feel like Klang is just putting on rootsiness because it’s “cool” or “in” or trending. These are sonic spaces she knows well and strides through with ease.
Beautiful Woman boasts bold and brash moments that feel like Adele covering The SteelDrivers alongside tender story songs that could have almost been pulled from the catalogs of country queens this side of the Atlantic like Loretta Lynn and Dolly Parton. Danceable tracks, finger-picked ballads, and honest lyrics speak to impactful issues of motherhood, agency, feminism, embodiment – and so much more – but still feel light and joyful, leaning forward in the beat and finding hope in the melancholic.
Catching her debut Nashville performance at the Blue Room felt a bit momentous, though Klang seemed remarkably chill and relaxed, on and off stage. She and collaborator Theo Stocks (who also helps record and produce her projects) performed in duet, with lush reverbs and simple backing percussion tracks to a rapt audience. An audience who knew they were lucky to have Klang on this “side of the pond.”
Before the show, we dove into Beautiful Woman, speaking about the death of genre, choosing your own joy, always wanting more banjos, and so much more.
Do you see what you do as roots music? How do you place your own music within roots or folk or Americana? Your music has so many things – it’s got moments of grandeur, it’s got moments of subtlety, it’s got indie, it’s got pop, it’s got a little bit of everything. But I wonder how you identify it.
Sarah Klang: That’s sort of a really hard question. I always feel it’s a little bit like I don’t really know the genres. So, mostly when I put out my albums, afterwards people will review them and they will tell me what genre it is and I will be like, “Yeah, yeah! Mhmm, that’s what it is.” Because I don’t really think about it.
I mean, I listen to so much– random indie, folk, Americana, all those things that you mentioned. And I’m introduced to iconic classical things mainly through Theo [Stocks], my guitarist that I make albums with, and also Eric [D. Johnson]. Like a very normal thing in the studio would be that they would say, “Oh, this is very Kris Kristofferson-ish.” And I would be like, “Could you play it for me?” And then they play the song, and I’m like, “Okay!”
I don’t really have a special aim for where I’m going, because I don’t have any roots in anything. Really. I know what I like. I know the feeling [of what] I’m after. I guess the sentimental [and the] bittersweet, those always end up in some sort of Americana thing.
If it’s not the genre, or style, or the aesthetic that you’re going for – or that you’re following – it sounds to me like you’re following the songs themselves and the feeling you’re trying to evoke.
Yes. I mean, it’s just like an imprinted thing in my brain, “What sounds do I like?” It has always been like that, really. I don’t really play any instruments anymore. I used to play the guitar and the piano, but now I don’t. We’ve been here [in Nashville] for seven days and had sessions every day and Theo knows very well how to describe [the sounds]. He’s kind of like my interpreter. How do you say it? My interpreter? When it comes to melodies and shorts [takes], because someone at the session could play me a bit and I’ll be like “Hmmm?” And Theo will say, “It’s the last short. She doesn’t want that last short. Let’s go with that instead.” He understands.
I think I just have quite a small range of melodies that I like. I mean, my songs are kind of similar, how they are made. The aesthetic of country music has always felt like that’s the only way to go. That’s the only aesthetic that really looks cool, you know? When I started to dress up in country-ish things in Sweden, people were like, “Okay, well she makes country music.” That’s how far they would go. So in Sweden I’m often categorized and called the country queen of Sweden. I get a little bit nervous about that, because I know so little about country music and you know that everybody has such strong opinions about it.
What’s funny to me is even with how strong of opinions people have about country and what it is, it’s always in the eye of the beholder.
I’ve obviously been listening a lot – maybe not classic country, whatever that is – but I mean, I’ve been listening to Kurt Vile, Kevin Morby, Sharon Van Etten, you know, those very big country rock people for a long time. I think that is my biggest influence, really. Then we take that and Theo and Eric on this album, who are just very nerdy in music, they put their spin on it.
But for me, it’s not important to me. Where this album lands, in which genre – I couldn’t care less. But, I think that’s why I started having a western aesthetic. ‘Cause it’s the coolest part, I think. I was like, “Okay, I’m gonna start a solo project. Where do I want to be? What’s cool?”
That, probably. [Laughs]
You’re talking about collaborating with Theo and Eric and it sounds like having that trust and having that rapport is really important to getting the music where you wanted to get it. When I listen through and I hear the banjo moments and the really rootsy and Americana moments, trying to connect the dots, how much of that came from Eric producing?
I asked for that specifically! I mean, if it were up to me, I would say, “More banjo! Put banjo on everything!” ‘Cause that makes everything a jam.
But the boys are more tasteful when it comes to that. When [Eric] played, I think I asked him to try and play on like every song – and not because I wanted to be a “diddly doo” out there, but just because that’s my vibe. I mean, when someone plays on a banjo, there is nothing more tearjerking.
Of course, “Last Forever” jumped out at me for that quality. That was the track from Beautiful Woman that we premiered on BGS. I think it’s my favorite song on the record. But there are so many moments that feel like you’re a genre shapeshifter. And I think that that’s the time we’re in too, genre’s dead. Even while we get more and more and more genre names every year, it feels like genre’s dead.
For me, it’s probably a good thing that it is. That I’m not locked in a genre. I don’t think I’m ever gonna have to be like, “Okay guys, I’m breaking free from this [genre.]” I don’t have to do like a Miley Cyrus thing – “look at my new clothes!” – because I wear everything and that’s nice because I think I’m gonna keep on producing albums as long as I can, and I would like to not be stuck if I were to start feeling this [genre] is boring.
I mean, I’m a huge house fan. I love dance music. When I was a teenager, I mostly listened to weird party drinking music from the UK. I always wanted to make a club album. So, hopefully I could just like sneak over there. When the time’s right. [Laughs]
Another song that jumped out at me as feeling really rootsy is “Childhood.” Not only because of the aesthetic of the song, but the storytelling of it and the nostalgia in it. Something about it feels kind of theatrical to me, too, and I think country is so theatrical.
Yeah, it’s very dramatic. I think when I’m making a song, I feel like “more is more” and if you are going in a certain direction, just go all-in and don’t cringe. Because then it’s just going to end up in some halfway world.
For me, with “Childhood” I was like, “Oh, is this song too nice? Is it too sweet?” Like, no! It’s great. It’s a great song. You just have to go all the way with the feelings. Because then if you don’t, I don’t think you’re going to reach the point you wanted to reach.
Many of my melodies, when I write, I ask myself or Theo or Eric, “Is this too pop-y? Does it sound too much like yada yada yada? Is this a rip off?” And they’re, “Let’s go for it!” You just go straight into that vibe and feeling.
Our music goes all the way into the feeling without hesitating if it might be too much. If you are driving your car, you want to listen to Tom Petty. And he wasn’t like, “Oh, I’m gonna write a song that is making people feel free… but it can’t be too much!” [Laughs]
“I want a driving song, but for 35 miles an hour.”
No! [Laughs] Pedal to the metal.
The overarching concepts that the album is talking about, I think what some people, especially in the U.S., would think these are deep topics – feminism, womanhood, gender and gender roles. But I found it interesting that even with these subjects, the music still feels joyful, it feels like it’s looking forward, it feels like it leans forward – in the beat, literally and figuratively. But, it doesn’t feel like cotton candy, and it doesn’t feel like you’re minimizing anything. Can you talk a little bit about that?
I mean, that makes me so happy that you felt that way. I’ve done interviews about this album in Sweden, with women, and they’re like, “Sarah, you do know that you are a beautiful woman now, right? And I’m like, that’s not the fucking point! As if I were singing it, meaning that that was the point. Maybe I thought when I was younger that that was a goal, but it’s not now.
I just want to write whatever comes to mind, and since English is not my first language, I have to write it very straight and simple. Like, “This is what happened, period.” I don’t really have the energy or time to hide the message. That is not my thing. Some people are great with that, leaving clues. I just write words – it’s also like, I’m busy I need to write the lyrics now! [Laughs]
I always ask my friend when I’ve done an album, “What is the catchphrase for this album? What would you say now when you heard it?” So, for VIRGO she was like, “This is your sex album.” And Mercedes, “This is your pregnancy album, obviously.” But this one, she was like, “I think this is a celebration of girlhood, period.” And I was like, “Yep, that’s perfect.” I’ll just use that. Because I obviously just collect songs. Over a period of time, and then I feel, well now it’s done. And I don’t write an album after a theme.
One of the things I love about the album is that it ends on “I Have Everything.” I like that that’s the way that you’re putting a punctuation mark on the album. Right now, I’m really worn out by attention economies, consumption, consumerism, and like, “buying our happiness.” I was really struck by that song. I love having it at the end; it feels like you are not just talking to us, your listeners, but you’re also talking to yourself. So I wanted to ask you about the song and about the placement of it in the sequence.
I think I wrote it to myself. Like, “Listen! Stop being a complete asshole all the time!” It’s annoying, but I’ve learned – and it’s nice, but it’s hard to talk about it without it sounding so cringey and boring – but the only thing that makes you happy is to take walks outside, be with your family, eat right, and take care of yourself. And that is boring, but it’s the truth. I always felt that people who said, “I wake up every morning and tell myself five things that I’m grateful for–” and I’m like, “Okay… that’s weird.” [Laughs]
If you do that, you will probably feel better. If you are nice to people around you, you will probably feel better. If you’re nice to yourself. I mean, grown up people have been telling me [this] all my life. During my 20s, through periods where I was just unhinged and didn’t feel right. They were like, “Well, maybe if you took a little better care of yourself and didn’t party so much and spent time with your family, you would feel better.” And I was like, “Listen, it’s more than that.”
Yeah, like I am so deep. [Laughs] My traumas are so deep! You have no idea! I’m a fuck up. And then, turns out you’re not. That’s a nice thing about getting a little bit older, you just know, “I’m gonna be fine.” And it’s also my responsibility to make that happen.
Every time somebody had ever told me that “joy is a choice” and “happiness is a choice,” I didn’t realize at first that what they meant was joy or happiness that you construct for yourself isn’t fake.
No! And it doesn’t undermine your sad parts. Like, that is always going to be there. Don’t worry. I think so many of us are just melancholic people. I mean, people have had worse experiences than I’ve had and are so chill and so fine.
I think happiness is definitely something you can work on and give to yourself, and it’s not like a miracle.
Photo Credit: Fredrika Eriksson
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