For Tift Merritt, Time and Patience Have Made the Difference

Tift Merritt never thought she’d end up back in her hometown of Raleigh, North Carolina. For about 15 years she toured through America and Europe to support a number of exceptional albums, particularly 2004’s Tambourine. Released on Lost Highway Records, that R&B-influenced LP earned a GRAMMY nomination and elevated her profile among audiences who admired the detail in her songwriting and appreciated her hard-to-define musical style.

After nine years of living in New York City, Merritt wrote her ticket home in 2016 and welcomed a daughter, Jean, that same year. Following the release of a studio album in 2017, Merritt largely stepped away from performing to pursue other ambitions, including the renovation of a historic hotel called the Gables Motel Lodge in Raleigh and working as a practitioner-in-residence at Duke University in Durham, North Carolina.

“I think we have this sort of unnatural expectation of what performing life is, what creative life is, and you can’t flower all the time,” Merritt tells BGS. “So, it’s been really nice to be away. And it feels really fun to be doing some gigs and be back.”

Merritt’s new album, Time and Patience, gracefully shines a light on her musical moments from two decades ago. Most of the recordings are homemade demos; four others are studio outtakes from the Tambourine sessions. A 20th anniversary edition of Tambourine has also been reissued on vinyl.

Ahead of her first AmericanaFest appearance in more than a decade, Merritt reminisced about writing the title track of her new collection, hearing Dolly Parton’s music as a kid, and the personal decision she considers “one of the best things that ever happened.”

I’ve read that your dog, Lucy, was watching you as you recorded these demos in your kitchen. What was it like to have her with you? Was it a little bit of companionship?

Tift Merritt: Oh yeah! At the time, I lived on a farm outside of Chapel Hill in North Carolina. My boyfriend went on a trip and I stayed home to get down to writing, because I’m a Capricorn in that way. [Laughs] At that point, I had had Lucy for almost 10 years and she was used to staring at me and staring at my notebooks. But she was such a good girl and we had a lot of years where I had a great writing routine when I wasn’t on the road. I’d be writing, then taking walks, then writing… It’s interesting to think back about those days when that’s all I had to do. [Laughs] I didn’t have somebody else to take care of! What did I do with all those hours?!

What was the goal in recording these demos? Were you trying to get someone to listen, or was somebody interested in you already?

I had already done Bramble Rose [in 2002] and the label told me to go home and write a hit. But they didn’t want to spend any money for me going to the studio. Those recordings are what I sent my label and my manager. That was the big audition.

Wow, that’s a tall order: “Go home and write a hit.” How did you receive that?

You know, I was 27 years old and I realized the precarity of the position that I was in. Someone had ambitions for me, which was a really good thing. It’s a lot better than people not having ambitions for you. At the same time, I was very determined to keep my integrity. I always wanted to be a career artist. I didn’t have aspirations to have big hits. I didn’t have aspirations that were purely commercial.

I would try to be very determined to just do excellent work in my own voice. They also told me that I was not allowed to be an Americana artist, because that didn’t really exist at that time and there was no money in it. You know, it was just a weird time. It was a weird time to be a woman in that industry. It still is, it always is. And certainly, a young woman. I mean, nobody trusted me.

What did they not trust?

My judgment, my writing, my band, how I dressed myself, that I knew how I wanted my picture to appear. None of it. It was always a struggle and part of that is because I have strong artistic opinions, I’m sensitive, and I’m not stupid. I came out of a very rigorous writing program and to walk into Nashville where it’s like, “Oh no, it’s not a hit,” I’m like, “That’s not criticism I can do anything with.” Again, I was glad that people had ambitions for me, but [I was told] my songs aren’t good enough. My band wasn’t good enough. And that sort of added up to, I’m not good enough.

The label would trust [the album’s producer] George Drakoulias, but they wouldn’t trust me. And this is not an unusual story: “You don’t trust an artist! And you certainly don’t trust an artist who thinks they’re a writer!” I think there was very much a power dynamic at that time, where you separate the singer from the band, and you separate the singer from the song, and you can get them to do what you want to do. I didn’t want to do any of that.

Your band was such an important part of your sound. How did you put them together?

Well, I was married to the drummer and I didn’t want to be slick Nashville. We were all North Carolina people. We came up together, cutting our teeth in clubs. The label did not want my band to play on Tambourine. And so that band was Mike Campbell, Neal Casal, Maria McKee, and Don Heffington. I trusted George enough to surround me with people who were all friends of Maria McKee, basically, and spoke the same language as I did.

Being from North Carolina, did you grow up around bluegrass? Or did that influence your musical direction at all?

I think the Everly Brothers and harmonies and acoustic instruments did. I wasn’t totally into bluegrass. I was more into songs. My dad had an extremely eclectic record collection, a lot of which was influenced by the radio, which was eclectic at that point. He had Aretha Franklin and Bob Dylan and Dolly Parton and all sorts of stuff. He was real song-oriented and kind of a folkie himself. Lots of Dylan songs, lots of finger picking. So, in some way, I would say that I’m more of a folk musician because I learned to play from my father by ear and he learned by picking out the songs that he heard that he loved. They were all that sort of “touch your heart” kind of thing.

Were there any musicians whose melodies inspired you?

I can remember singing Dolly Parton songs with my dad, driving carpool. And she always has such amazing melodies. There were some amazing pivotal records for me, like Emmylou Harris’ Quarter Moon in a Ten Cent Town and Bonnie Raitt, Bonnie Raitt. Also, as a writer, those early Joni Mitchell records. She is so creative, melodically and with the guitar. It’s never boring.

I always think I’m a much better writer than I am a musician. I try to bring, first, a rigor to what I’m trying to say in words, that it’s something worth saying. And then I try to do the same to the melody, so it’s something worth hearing. It’s not necessarily something fancy, but it’s something interesting and layered.

How old were you when you picked up the guitar?

I started picking it up from my dad, probably at 12 or 13, when all the boys were starting to do it. It was like [in an unimpressed voice], “Oh my God, I can do that, too.” Probably in my middle teens is when I really got into it. I didn’t think I could sing. I didn’t think people would come to a show or anything like that. I just loved doing it and I thought I would be a writer.

When did that shift for you?

In my early 20s. I started a band and we had some sparks kind of quick. That was really lucky. We were in the right place at the right time in Chapel Hill. And then I just didn’t stop getting gigs… until I did!

Have you played a lot over the last nine years?

I toured with my daughter for the first two years and then I said, “You know what, kiddo? This isn’t enough for you.” I thought she deserved roots. At the time, that felt like a big failure, like I hadn’t turned a corner where I’d get a bus and a nanny and make all of that doable. Seven years later, I think it was one of the best things that ever happened. Because I was able to – for the first time in my adult life – not be on the road and not be trying to fit into the creativity that is pretty narrow that the record industry offers. I mean, it’s the “three minutes and 30 seconds.”

So, I ended up doing a lot of other things that made me feel like I was more of an artist, rather than less of one. I’ve also had this incredible time raising my daughter. We actually just did our first real tour together in Europe and she loved it! I mean, I’ve jumped out here and there and done shows, but my focus has been on other things, mainly my daughter and figuring out how to take care of us.

On the song “Time and Patience,” there’s a glimmer of hope. It’s like you’re saying to yourself, “Hang in there. You can do this.” And there’s a verse where you’re telling somebody else, “I believe in you, too.” Do you remember what was going on in your life at that moment?

I do! I remember very, very much so and I do remember writing that song to myself about how frustrated I was, that nothing I was writing was a hit. I often get insomnia, especially when I’m writing. Like, I can’t get it out of my head. And I really did see the sun come up and I got up and I wrote that song, and then I made grits. Grits are such a good thing when you’ve had insomnia and go back to bed!

It’s funny because my dad has always loved that song. I am not somebody who looks back a lot. I’d much rather look forward. But it’s funny to hear that song now, where I was kind of trying to get myself through something really specific. And now, I’m in a place where my life is not at all what I imagined it to be. But it’s actually better than I imagined it to be and I couldn’t have imagined it. That feels like the timing is special. Maybe that was one of those songs that I didn’t really understand then that I understand a lot better now.


Photo Credit: Morgane Imbeaud

Brit Taylor’s New Momma Playlist

Sitting here in my baby’s room, feeling her kick in my belly while looking around at the dusty pink painted walls, baby owl wallpaper, refurbished 1960s furniture, a painting from her great grandmother on one wall, and her name – shared by two other great grandmothers – on the other wall, I’ve never been more certain that I’m exactly where I am meant to be in my life at this moment. Beulah Anne Chaffins. We love her so much already.

Like so many women in the music industry, I put off having a family thinking when my career takes off, then I’ll have my family. But “takes off” is so subjective, especially when you’re constantly moving the finish line for yourself. Earlier this year, I realized that if I kept waiting, I could literally wait myself forever out of the opportunity to have a family. I’m about to play Bourbon & Beyond, the biggest festival I’ve ever played, and I will be almost 8 months pregnant. It’s funny that this is actually the most outlaw thing I’ve ever done.

I didn’t grow up in a musical family. “Playing music” to my parents meant turning on the radio. I’m really excited to bring my daughter into a world of music. My husband, Adam Chaffins, and I do everything together. We garden, take care of our animals, travel, tour, write songs, and make records together. Beulah Anne already lights up when she hears us sing and play. I can feel her ball up in my belly, close to my guitar, and kick and turn as her daddy sings.

I put together a playlist of songs that I believe will be great to play for Beulah Anne when she finally gets here! It’s full of uplifting songs that don’t make us want to beat our heads against the wall. I know, I know, that will come eventually when she’s able to choose, but maybe if we start by instilling good taste early, it won’t be so bad? Wishful thinking? Maybe! – Brit Taylor

“Oo-De-Lally” – Roger Miller

Should be on any children’s playlist.

“Little Green Apples” – Bobbie Gentry & Glen Campbell

This wasn’t meant to be a kid’s song, but it is such a great love song and the melody is so simple and easy to remember. Adam and I love singing this one together.

“The Big Rock Candy Mountain” – Harry McClintock

The O Brother, Where Art Thou? soundtrack is one of my favorite albums. There’s something about the old timey sound of this one that makes me feel like we’ve travelled back in time when things were just more simple.

“Didn’t Leave Nobody but the Baby” – Gillian Welch, Alison Krauss, and Emmylou Harris

This is from the same soundtrack. I can see myself singing this one to baby Beulah, trying to get her to sleep. Maybe I’ll leave out a line or two!

“You’ve Got a Friend in Me” – Randy Newman

An amazing way to let your kid know they’re not alone. I love this one by Randy Newman from Toy Story.

“Here Comes The Sun” – the Beatles

Could put anyone in a good mood.

“You Are My Sunshine” – Norman Blake

There’s so many great versions of this song, but I love this one by Norman Blake on the O Brother soundtrack. The Dobro gets me.

“(Let Me Be Your) Teddy Bear” – Elvis

This is a requirement for any children’s playlist I make. My daddy would play this one for me – along with every other Elvis song ever recorded.

“Build Me Up Buttercup” – The Foundations

Another one my Dad would play and sing to me. I remember loving this one and naming one of our dogs Buttercup!

“I Love” – Tom T. Hall

Tom T Hall was a poet and also from my hometown of Hindman, Kentucky. I love this one from his children’s record.

“Love is Like A Butterfly” – Dolly Parton

This has such a whimsical vibe! I love having this one in the mix. It transports you to a fairytale land.

“What A Wonderful World” – Louis Armstrong

I want Beulah Anne to always be able to see the beautiful things in the world. I don’t want her to be afraid of it. Perspective is key and songs like this can do just that.

“God Only Knows” – The Beach Boys

Adam and I sang this song on a Valentine’s Day livestream when he surprised me by proposing! My answer was a big fat “yes,” obviously. I can see us singing and dancing to this one with Beulah in our arms!

“(They Long to Be) Close To You” – The Carpenters

I always loved the Carpenters when I was little. My mom would play them for me. Especially at Christmas. Karen Carpenter’s voice is like a warm hug. There’s just something dreamy about this song, and I love the lyrics.

“Top Of The World” – The Carpenters

I want Beulah Anne to have a positive outlook on life. I want to instill positive self-talk, so when she hears her inner voice it’s encouraging instead of scary or mean. I hope starting her off on music like this will help her always feel more like she’s on top of the world instead of down in the gutter, even in the hard times of life.

“Ol’ Blue” – Willie Nelson

A must. Beulah’s first dog will be our dog, Blue, so this one was definitely a sure bet.


All photos by Natia Cinco.

BGS 5+5: Diane King

Artist: Diane King
Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee (grew up in Beverly, Ohio)
Latest Album: SKY (releasing September 19, 2025)
Personal Nicknames (or rejected band names): D-Music

Which artist has influenced you the most – and how?

I actually have five or six artists who have had a big influence on my songwriting and artistry. But, to pick one: it’s Olivia Newton-John. I heard her song, “Let Me Be There,” on our country radio station in southeastern Ohio when I was around 8 years old. I remember it vividly. We had just pulled into the grocery store parking lot as the song began to play. I asked my mom if we could listen to it before going into the store. She happily obliged and, at the end of the song, the DJ said, “That’s Olivia Newton-John,” and my life was changed.

Specifically speaking to her musical talents, the two things I love most are her beautiful voice and her flawless harmonies. I love vocal harmony and her albums are full of them! But, Livy is so much more to me than a singer or musical artist. In addition to loving her angelic voice, I love her kindness and gentle spirit. And, frankly, she was a light for me. As a young girl, I watched her career and accomplishments and I knew there was something outside of the hills where I was growing up.

Here’s an interesting story. When I was working with Harlan Howard we were going to lunch one day and he asked me who I received my “calling” through. I remember just looking at him and pausing, because I hadn’t known anyone before who understood that, receiving your calling to music through another artist. I knew exactly what he meant. After pausing, I said, “Olivia Newton-John,” and in my mind I reflected back on that day in the car at 8 years old, listening to “Let Me Be There.” Harlan nodded and said, “Yep! I met her once; she was a sweetheart and a great singer!” He proceeded to tell me he received his calling through Ernest Tubb over the radio listening to the Opry in a barn loft in Michigan. It was a moment, for someone to fully understand how another artist can have such profound meaning in your life. That person for me is Olivia Newton-John.

What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?

My favorite memory is going to be when I stand in the circle of the Grand Ole Opry to sing my songs on the live show for the first time!

What’s the most difficult creative transformation you’ve ever undertaken?

I had a five-year battle with and recovery from lymphoma. I had a significant amount of trauma to my neck and throat with multiple procedures and surgeries in that area. Once I finally turned the corner on that cancer battle and the healing began, my voice performed differently. That has been and still is a big adjustment for me. Singing is certainly not as easy as it used to be “BC” (before cancer, as I call it), but I keep at it! I’m so grateful to be writing, singing, and recording again!

What is a genre, album, artist, musician, or song that you adore that would surprise people?

These are some songs that will likely surprise you that stop me in my tracks when I hear them. When they’re playing, I have to stop whatever I’m doing and just listen and be in the song. I can’t function in any other way.

“Uptown Funk” – Bruno Mars
“Nessun Dorma” – Aretha Franklin
“Dancing Queen” – ABBA
“Play That Funky Music White Boy” – Wild Cherry
“Shake It Off” – Taylor Swift
“Shoop Shoop” – Whitney Houston
“Simply the Best” – Tina Turner
“Addicted to Love” – Robert Palmer
“Deborah’s Theme” – Chris Botti

Since food and music go so well together, what is your dream pairing of a meal and a musician?

I so love this question! I can’t even tell you how many times my co-producer, Stephan Oberhoff, and I would use food metaphors to communicate with each other what we wanted to hear when recording a song. Such as me saying, “Stephan, it needs to sound more lush, like a creamy, rich alfredo sauce with a subtle hint of salt.” Or, “Can you make it sound warmer – it needs a dash of nutmeg.” So, yes, I agree that food and music go well together, in many ways! To answer your question: Dolly Parton and fried chicken (with some spice) and waffles with real maple syrup, a side of mashed potatoes with butter, sweet iced tea, and a piece of homemade apple pie a la mode!


Photo Credit: Misti Fahr

Molly Tuttle Always Leaves a Mark

Fresh off two back-to-back GRAMMY-winning albums, guitar virtuoso, songwriter, and artist Molly Tuttle is heading in bold new directions with her fifth solo release, So Long Little Miss Sunshine. A California native now based in Nashville, Tuttle embodies many sides of herself while staying rooted in where she comes from – both musically and geographically.

Already highly decorated as an instrumentalist (including two International Bluegrass Music Association awards for Guitar Player of the Year and the Americana Music Association’s Instrumentalist of the Year), Tuttle continues to captivate with her signature tone while stretching the boundaries of the genre that launched her. And she does it all with reverence and a playful sense of self-exploration.

From the scorching opener “Everything Burns” to the crush-worthy pop bop “That’s Gonna Leave a Mark” (co-written with Better Than Ezra frontman Kevin Griffin), the album weaves together personal reflections and observations of the world around her. It’s a colorful puzzle that reveals the many pieces of Tuttle.

When BGS sat down with her to discuss the album via Zoom, it was clear that her boundless curiosity about life and what’s next musically fuels everything she does. She spoke about her songwriting process, her reverence for her roots, the inspiration behind the album’s visual aesthetic, and how she’s already working on her next project.

You’ve called this record a departure, but to me it also feels like a distillation of all the people you’ve been, all the places you’ve gone, and all of who you are. Even though you’re experimenting with different genres, it feels cohesive—like you’re telling a story about yourself over a really diverse musical bed. Almost as diverse as the wigs on the cover of the record. Was there a lightbulb moment when this project came to life for you, or was it more of a gradual process?

Molly Tuttle: It was kind of a gradual idea. About a year ago, I was finishing the songs for this record. The first one I wrote was “Golden State of Mind,” a few years back, but for a long time, I just had this big batch of songs that didn’t feel like a cohesive grouping. Then last year, there was a light bulb moment where suddenly the songs really started flowing again, and it felt like I’d found this new voice – though it still connected to earlier songs like “Golden State of Mind” and “Everything Burns.” I reworked those older ones and then wrote about two-thirds of the record in the last year.

Making Crooked Tree and City of Gold helped me gain the confidence to do something different this time and not feel tethered to any particular style or genre. Those bluegrass records were me paying tribute to the music I grew up with, and once I did that, I felt free to branch out—try something bold and ambitious sonically while still tying it back to where I came from. I wanted to tie it to my past work but also really spring forward and try something new.

Did you have any trepidation about that shift?

I wasn’t really nervous, but we did have a lot of conversations about it – mainly between me and Jay Joyce, who produced the record. He first saw me play at the Ryman with Golden Highway, which was a bluegrass show, though we always stretched the boundaries a bit. The next day, he called me and said, “I think we should still incorporate your banjo playing and some acoustic elements.” That’s when we brought in Ketch [Secor] to play fiddle, banjo, and mandolin.

We wanted to make sure it didn’t feel like too far of a departure and that it still sounded like me. So we decided to make this a guitar record. Every song has guitar solos and I’m the only soloist on the album. That was new for me, and really exciting.

How did you end up working with Jay? Did you seek him out? Were you a fan of his work?

I actually wasn’t super familiar with him at first. I’d heard music he’d produced, but hadn’t connected it to him by name. During the pandemic, my manager, Ken Levitan, suggested I meet with Jay. Ken thought we’d work well together since Jay’s not only a producer, but also a great guitarist.

I played him some songs and liked his vibe, but at the time, I felt pulled to make Crooked Tree because I had those songs ready to go. Still, I always kept Jay in the back of my mind and really wanted to work with him eventually. Last year it fell into place: I sent him my new songs, we met again, and then started pre-production in the fall. I’m glad that I’d had that rapport with him for the last few years rather than just meeting him when we started making the record.

What was the studio experience like? Did it feel different from your past records?

Very different. We spent so much time on pre-production – more than I ever had before. We worked on arrangements, added solos, and rewrote bridges. By the time we brought in the band for a week of tracking, we already had these really fleshed-out demos. I’d played and sung a lot of my parts. Jay had been programming and I think Ketch had even played some of his parts already. We had a ton of tracks ready to go when we went into record.

Some of my demo takes even made it onto the final record, because I was just so relaxed, not feeling the pressure of having a set number of days to get it all done.

Much of this album was co-written with your partner, Ketch. What does writing with someone who knows you so well unlock for you?

Over time, we’ve developed a shared voice that feels like both of us. Earlier songs sometimes sounded more like his voice or mine, but now it feels like ours. He sees my daily life, so he can suggest ideas I might not have thought of, and that keeps the process flowing and honest.

Are you approaching the tour for this record differently than past tours?

It is going to be a little different. We’ve got some amazing special guests and openers joining us, and I’m excited to collaborate with them onstage.

The band is also super versatile: Ellen Angelico plays pedal steel, Dobro, banjo, and more, and Mary Meyer plays fiddle, mandolin, keys, and guitar. That range allows us to move between full-on rock moments and stripped-down acoustic sets, which fits perfectly with the mix of songs from this new record and my older ones.

The visual aesthetics of this record are striking. How did you land on the album cover concept?

Honestly, I didn’t have an idea at first. I was brainstorming on Pinterest and even asked a friend to pull tarot cards about it. She told me, “I think you already know the cover in your mind – you just need to uncover it.” Around that time, my friend Fletcher Moore sent me this grid of women with different hairstyles, and I was also looking at Let It Be by the Beatles. I thought, “What if I did something like that?”

This is the first time I’ve appeared without a wig on an album cover. I’ve worn wigs on all my past covers, but I wanted this one to feel more personal, like, “Hey, this is the real me.” At the same time, wigs are still a part of who I am. I wear them often, sometimes multiple in a day if I’m going to different things. What once felt like a source of insecurity when I was a kid now feels like a source of creativity.

So that inspired the cover, along with my song “Old Me, New Wig.” We had fun tying different hairstyles to songs – like a hippie look for “Summer of Love,” a goth look for “The Arsonist,” and even a Dolly Parton-inspired one. It was really fun but at the same time, I’m always nervous. I don’t want to distract from the music by making it all about the hair, but I like to have fun and experiment with it. It is something that feels unique to who I am.

That’s amazing. What inspired you musically and otherwise while making this record?

Playing with people like Sheryl Crow and Dave Matthews over the past few years has been hugely inspiring. I think you can hear echoes of artists like them.

As for books, I love California literature and that ends up inspiring some of the songs on the record. Angle of Repose [by Wallace Stegner] inspired some of this record and City of Gold. Joan Didion is another big one for me – her writing about California is just gorgeous.

You’re clearly prolific. Are you already working on what’s next?

After I finish a record, I usually take a little break from writing, just to focus on preparing the new music for live shows. But now I’m back at it – I’ve got about two-thirds of another record written already. I love being in the studio and I’m always chasing that feeling of making an even better record than the last. Touring slows down my writing a bit, but when I’m home, I’m already dreaming about what’s next.

Last question: from what I can tell, some fans feel a sense of ownership over your bluegrass identity. How has the reaction been to this new music?

Mostly supportive and loving, especially when I play the songs live. But yeah, when I released the first single, “That’s Gonna Leave a Mark,” probably the poppiest track on the record, some people online were like, “Oh my God, Taylor Swift!”

And it is not like I am never playing bluegrass again. Our shows are still half, if not more, bluegrass! I’ve stopped looking at online comments, because it’s not a real snapshot of what people are thinking and feeling.

But this is what I wanted to do. I wanted to shake things up. I feel like this record is full of little surprises. And if people are talking, that means they are paying attention. It means they care. If nobody said anything, I would be worried.


All photos by Ebru Yildiz.

Jaelee Roberts Is the CEO of Super Lonesome Songs

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.


Photo Credit: Ava Renee Photography

You Gotta Hear This: New Music From Jack Schneider, Elexa Dawson, and More

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

Track Credits:
Elexa Dawson – Vocals, acoustic guitar
Melissa Tastove – Vocals, shaker, djembe
Peter Oviatt – Vocals, shaker, claps, Juno 6 Polyphonic synth, banjo
Kelby Kimberlin – Bass
John Depew – Claps, mandolin
Sarah Bays – Melodica


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.

Ketch Secor
Contains Multitudes, Too

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.


Photo Credit: Jody Stevens

Six of the Best Alison Krauss Covers

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:


Explore more of our Artist of the Month content on Alison Krauss & Union Station here.

Photo Credit: Randee St. Nicholas

MIXTAPE: Michigan Rattlers’ Rebirth of Spring Playlist

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


Photos courtesy of Michigan Rattlers.

“I Once Was Lost, But I’m Pretty Found Lately” – Olivia Ellen Lloyd Finds Herself Again

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.


Listen to Olivia Ellen Lloyd on Basic Folk here.

Photo Credit: Aaron May