Tag: dolly parton

The 50 Greatest Bluegrass Albums Made by Women

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Earlier this year, NPR Music published a behemoth piece — “Turning the Tables: The 150 Greatest Albums Made by Women” — saying, “This list … is an intervention, a remedy, a correction of the historical record and hopefully the start of a new conversation … It rethinks popular music to put women at the center.”

Viewing this sort of conversation through a bluegrass lens, staging our own intervention, remedy, and correction is critical. It’s true that we’ve reached several historic landmarks in recent years — Molly Tuttle was just named the International Bluegrass Music Association’s Guitar Player of the Year, the first woman to win the honor, and last year women won in the Fiddle Player of the Year and Mandolin Player of the Year categories for the first time, as well. Still, women are routinely marginalized by/within bluegrass. There are many bands that will not hire side-women pickers — the cliché “pretty good for a girl” is all-too common, even while it’s re-appropriated by women themselves. Also, there remains this overarching narrative that women are a recent, post-Hazel Dickens & Alice Gerrard addition to this genre. While often well-intentioned and placing well-deserved credit upon the influence of Hazel & Alice, this idea is false. Women have always been an integral part of bluegrass and the folk and roots music traditions that gave rise to it.

This list does not attempt to be exhaustive, complete, or comprehensive. We dare not be so bold as to claim that every important bluegrass album created by women is included. We are simply striving to illustrate the far-reaching, undeniable influence that these incredible artists have had on the music, as a whole. Each contributor, many of them groundbreaking, trail-blazing artists themselves, has chosen albums that are personally impactful. Glaring omissions and oversights are almost guaranteed, but therein lies the beauty of this conversation: This collection is merely a starting point, a springboard for a greater dialogue about the place of female creators, artists, musicians, and professionals in the telling of the history — herstory — of bluegrass.

At this present point on the bluegrass music timeline, diversity, inclusion, and openness are hot-button topics and they would not have been given even an inch of a foothold in our genre if it hadn’t been for the strength, determination, heart, and amazing music of the women below. — Justin Hiltner

Alecia Nugent — Alecia Nugent

Though it was released by Rounder, Alecia Nugent’s debut originated as a self-release funded by a fan — just one token of the hold her strong, emotive voice can have on a listener. The Louisiana native turned to Carl Jackson for production, and the savvy Grammy winner put together a nifty cast of players and called on a crew of sympathetic harmony singers — including himself in both categories. Together, they picked out a well-balanced set of songs that included both Flatt & Scruggs and Stanley Brothers classics, but leaned largely toward gems from the catalogs of Larry Cordle, Jerry Salley, and Jackson, himself. Either way, Nugent’s voice carries an unmistakable feeling of urgency that makes every line believable and, when she cuts loose on a ballad, makes every note a world of hurt. — Jon Weisberger

Alison Brown — Fair Weather

Let’s run down the cast of this record: Béla Fleck, Stuart Duncan, Tony Rice, Sam Bush, Vince Gill, Tim O’Brien, Claire Lynch, Missy Raines … and there are more. While Alison’s signature, outside-the-box playing style and modern aesthetic are at the center of this record top to bottom, the entire project is solidly bluegrass. “Poe’s Pickin’ Party” is a subtle nod to an actual party of the same name that openly excluded women from participating, on “Deep Gap” Alison plays Doc Watson-style guitar, and the burning double banjo tune “Leaving Cottondale” won Alison her first Grammy award. — Justin Hiltner

Alison Brown — Simple Pleasures

I had been playing banjo for a couple of years when I stumbled upon this album by Alison Brown while browsing through the tiny bluegrass section at a record store in the mall. It was the first time I had ever heard any banjo playing outside the bluegrass realm. I was completely fascinated, and my ears were opened to a whole new world of writing and playing. This record is the perfect example of how music that you digest during your most highly impressionable age and stage of development stays with you forever. She made a lasting impact on me by igniting a much-broadened awareness of what the banjo can do. — Kristin Scott Benson

Alison Krauss & Union Station — Every Time You Say Goodbye

If the sound of Adam Steffey’s flawless mandolin intro to the title track doesn’t grab you immediately, then just wait about 20 seconds and you’ll hear one of the greatest voices the world has ever known. Every Time You Say Goodbye is one of my favorite albums from childhood. Even as an adult, I never grow tired of revisiting it. Alison has always been a genius at picking the perfect songs, making albums that really stand the test of time. From start to finish, I think it’s an amazing album — a must have for anyone’s collection! — Sierra Hull

Alison Krauss & Union Station — So Long, So Wrong

“Looking in the Eyes of Love” may be the most popular song from this record — how many wedding playlists has it graced at this point, I wonder? — but in bluegrass circles, that very well could be the least important track on the record. You can still hear “The Road Is a Lover,” “No Place to Hide,” “I’ll Remember You, Love, in My Prayers,” and “Blue Trail of Sorrow” at jam sessions today, some 20 years later, played exactly like they sound here. And the sad, sad heartbreak songs on this album are nearly unparalleled. Try listening to “Find My Way Back to My Heart” in the wee hours of the morning on a solo road trip sometime. “I used to laugh at all those songs about the ramblin’ life, the nights so long and lonely, but I ain’t laughin’ now” will destroy you. It did me. — Justin Hiltner

Blue Rose — Blue Rose

Blue Rose was the brainchild of Cathy Fink and Marcy Marxer, who noticed the “super picker” albums of the ‘80s never included any women. These talented women turned the tables with Blue Rose. When the group appeared on the Nashville Network’s New Country, the producer wanted to use male session players so Blue Rose would sound as good on TV as they did on the album. Cathy quickly disabused the producer of this notion and these talented women did their own picking. — Murphy Henry

Buffalo Gals — First Borne

Martha Trachtenberg, Susie Monick, Carol Siegel, Sue Raines, and Nancy Josephson formed Buffalo Gals, the first-ever all-female bluegrass band, in the early ‘70s. They were largely regarded as a novelty act by promoters and talent buyers during their too-short run as a band — infamously, they performed an entire festival set in their sleeping bags on stage to protest being purposely relegated to the festival’s earliest performance slot. Their sole record, First Borne, is almost forgotten and sorely underrated, but should demand respect and recognition from all of us now. I mean, a bluegrass Carole King cover? Yes. — Justin Hiltner

Cherryholmes — Cherryholmes II: Black and White

“We had three strikes against us: We were a family band, we had kids, and we had women.” — Sandy Cherryholmes

Despite the “strikes” against them, I’ll never forget how Cherryholmes took my musical world by storm in the early 2000s. I first saw them play the Grand Ole Opry and was struck by the prodigy-level playing and mature voices of the Cherryholmes clan — including daughters Cia and Molly — in harmonies that can only be honed within a family. Even though the group disbanded in 2011, each of the family members continues to make their mark in various parts of the industry. Theirs is a sound I’ll not soon forget. — Amy Reitnouer

Claire Lynch — Moonlighter

Claire Lynch championed women through the ages with the writing of Moonlighter — an anthem to all who have ever tried to “have it all.” The music is pristine and the lyrics are timeless throughout. — Missy Raines

Claire Lynch — North by South

North by South by Claire Lynch is creative and, at the same time, quite bluegrass-y. I find myself putting this one on over and over again. — Gina Clowes

The Cox Family — Beyond the City

When a member of Counting Crows writes the liner notes for a bluegrass album, it will grab your attention; when it is an album by the Cox Family, it will grab your heart. Without question, the focus on Beyond the City (and any other album from the Cox Family, for that matter) is the universal love for that pure family harmony that comes from sisters Evelyn and Suzanne, brother Sidney, and father Willard. Suzanne and Evelyn were two of the most influential female voices in bluegrass during the ‘80s and ‘90s, and one listen to Beyond the City exemplifies why. From Suzanne’s bluesy, adventurous vocals on “Lovin’ You” and “Blue Bayou” to the sweet, ethereal tone of Evelyn’s voice on “Lizzy and the Rainman” and “Another Lonesome Morning,” it is easy to see why singers from Alison Krauss (who produced the album) to Flatt Lonesome’s Kelsi Harrigill and Charli Robertson point to the Cox Family as major influences of their own sound. — Daniel Mullins

Dale Ann Bradley — Catch Tomorrow

Dale Ann solidifies her place in bluegrass history with this album. Her voice is perfect, and the material is memorable. Contemporary and fresh without forgetting its bluegrass roots. — Megan Lynch

Dale Ann Bradley — Don’t Turn Your Back

While Dale Ann Bradley’s voice is as big and as lonesome as the mountains which she calls home, few female artists in bluegrass are as adaptive. A bold claim to be sure, but one needs to look no further than Don’t Turn Your Back for confirmation. Her influences are all over the map and she embraces the variety. Songs originally performed by Tom Petty, Flatt & Scruggs, Hoyt Axton, the Carter Family, and Patty Loveless appear next to original compositions, making for a musical palette atypical of your standard bluegrass album. From the sensitivity of “Will I Be Good Enough” to the sassiness of “I Won’t Back Down,” Dale Ann’s versatility showcases her depth of both musical mastership and emotional complexity. For me, though, Dale Ann is at her best when she is lonesome, as exemplified on the old mountain ballad, “Blue Eyed Boy.” — Daniel Mullins

Dale Ann Bradley — Somewhere South of Crazy 

While it might seem pretentious to talk about terroir in the context of bluegrass music, when I listen to Dale Ann Bradley sing, I feel like I can hear the soul of eastern Kentucky coming through every note. Dale Ann’s music is very much the product of the contrast in her upbringing — a ‘70s childhood set against the backdrop of rural Knox County — and I’m particularly proud of Somewhere South of Crazy for the way it weaves those disparate influences together. A pop-grass version of “Summer Breeze” sits comfortably alongside the traditionally rooted “In Despair,” and the haunting trio of Sierra Hull, Steve Gulley, and Dale Ann on the thinly veiled war protest song “Come Home Good Boy” is timeless. — Alison Brown

Della Mae — This World Oft Can Be

How many bands do you know of that went from their inception to a Grammy nomination in just four years? This fact is just so much more delicious knowing that Della Mae’s name itself is poking fun at the type of testosterone-fueled, mash-heavy, boy’s club bluegrass that has deliberately excluded women for so long. And each of the incredible Dellas are excellent musicians — no “pretty good for a girl” qualifiers necessary. The music on this record teases the edges of bluegrass open, with old-time fundamentals, straight-ahead ‘grass’s drive, and poetic, literary lyrics. It’s truly an important moment in the history of women in bluegrass. — Justin Hiltner

Dixie Chicks — Home

When this record came out, I was an insecure, high school-aged girl. Because of this album, I was finally able to feel cool and proud telling my friends I play the banjo and spend my weekends at bluegrass festivals. It’s full of energy, tasty licks, tight harmonies, and good, catchy songs, and it has reached an audience that most bluegrass albums never will. — Gina Clowes

Dolly Parton — Heartsongs

This was one of the most influential records to me growing up. I remember singing along with and trying to pick out every harmony part that I could find as a little girl, playing the tape over and over to do so. Hearing two more of my favorite singers, Alison Krauss and Suzanne Cox, on harmonies made it extra special. — Kati Penn-Williams

Dolly Parton — The Grass Is Blue

First off, who doesn’t love Dolly? She’s kind of the ultimate artist, in my opinion. She’s one of the greatest songwriters to ever live, yet she can take a song she didn’t write and sing it from a place of sincere honesty like no other. From the downbeat of “Travelin’ Prayer” to Dolly’s first soaring high note (just listen to the huge tone she pulls!), I am sold. The production on this album is as slick as it gets, while still retaining that bluegrass grit that keeps you on the edge of your seat. She’s surrounded by an all-star band made of up of some of my biggest heroes, and I believe any musician can learn a lot from this album. — Sierra Hull

Dolly Parton, Linda Ronstadt, & Emmylou Harris — Trio

Dolly Parton, Linda Ronstadt, and Emmylou Harris have long established themselves as powerhouses in popular music. It is only fitting that their first album together, aptly named Trio, showcases the depth of collaborations between these master artists. Having been long-time admirers of each other’s, as well as having covered one another’s songs on respective albums, the trio presented incredible harmonies and musicianship that set Parton, Ronstadt, and Harris ahead of the pack. It also succeeded in inspiring future generations of female badasses in country and bluegrass music (Lula Wiles, I’m With Her). Winner of two Grammy awards, Trio remains a tried and true collaboration between legendary musicians and visionaries. — Kaïa Kater

Donna Hughes — Same Old Me

With 21 original songs, songwriter Donna Hughes’s second album, Same Old Me, introduced her as a prolific force within the genre. With each listening, I am struck by the intimate way this recording captures a feminine voice leading a hard-driving configuration in the studio featuring Adam Steffey, Scott Vestal, Clay Jones, Greg Luck, Ashby Frank, Zak McLamb, Alan Perdue, Joey Cox, and Gina Britt-Tew. Donna juxtaposes B-chord, jam-style bluegrass with introspection centering around the oft-displaced female voice — something few albums have accomplished since. — Jordan Laney

Emmylou Harris — Roses in the Snow

While Emmylou is not known as a bluegrass singer, per se, Roses in the Snow made an enormous impact on the bluegrass world by opening a wide door for many new-to-bluegrass-fans to come through. After its release, I remember years of hearing Roses in the Snow added to the common festival scene playlist. Her fresh take on “Gold Watch and Chain” and “I’ll Go Stepping, Too,” as well as others, brought new life to these bluegrass treasures. — Missy Raines

Elizabeth Cotten — Folksongs and Instrumentals with Guitar

Bluegrass Albums Made by Women

Featuring songs like “Freight Train,” this seminal Elizabeth “Libba” Cotten album influenced the 1960s folk “re-awakening.” A mix of traditional and original songs, this 1958 release showcased Cotten’s signature left-hand guitar and banjo-picking styles. Mike Seeger’s recordings of Cotten, released on Folkways Records when she was 62 years of age, cemented her as a true matriarch of folk and blues. “Freight Train,” written when Cotten was only 12, has been covered by the likes of Paul McCartney, Peggy Seeger, and Joan Baez. — Kaïa Kater

Gloria Belle — Gloria Belle Sings and Plays Bluegrass in the Country

Perhaps best-known for her long stint with Jimmy Martin’s Sunny Mountain Boys in the late ‘60s and ‘70s, Gloria Belle is a fine singer, guitarist, mandolinist, banjoist, and bass player. In 1968, she released her first album as a band leader following singles that featured her mandolin playing. While she succeeded this debut with several more fine albums as a leader, this album features not only her powerful singing but her instrumental mastery, as well, playing lead breaks on banjo, mandolin, and guitar. — Greg Reish

Good Ol’ Persons — Part of a Story

The 1970s California bluegrass scene was fairly devoid of female players and singers, and the Good Ol’ Persons were a beacon of light for many distaff pickers — including me. In many ways, I think the Good Ol’ Persons foreshadowed the more gender-balanced bands that are coming up these days. Kathy Kallick, Sally Van Meter, and Bethany Raine were three-fifths of the band that recorded Part of a Story in 1986 for Kaleidoscope Records and, more than 30 years later, I still find myself coming back to this album. There is something loose and playful about their groove, a feel that separates a lot of California bluegrass of that time from its Appalachian cousin. The gorgeous melody of the title track has stuck with me across decades, and the ecumenical message of “Center of the Word” captures an open-mindedness that I associate with that time and place. — Alison Brown

Hazel Dickens — Hard Hitting Songs for Hard Hit People 

Many may argue that bluegrass is apolitical, but not when Hazel Dickens is singing. Despite this year’s induction into the International Bluegrass Music Association (IBMA) Hall of Fame with Alice Gerrard, Hazel’s solo work has yet to receive recognition for its monumental role in songwriting and activism within bluegrass, evoking the political, gendered, and “hard hitting” side of rural life. This album, in particular, continues to offer generations the anthems needed to gather and rally. From “They’ll Never Keep Us Down” to “Scraps from Your Table,” there is nothing hidden about Hazel’s message here: Fighting for the rights of workers and revealing inequity can — and should — be done through song. — Jordan Laney

Hazel Dickens & Alice Gerrard — Who’s That Knocking?

I first heard this 1965 album in 1974, and it knocked me out. Hazel & Alice really seemed to capture the high lonesome sound of the Stanley Brothers and Bill Monroe, and the back-up band of Chubby Wise on fiddle, Lamar Grier on banjo, David Grisman on mandolin, and Fred Weisz on bass was a joy to listen to. By today’s standards, it’s pretty rough and rocky, but I read somewhere that the recording budget was $75 … so there you go. I became an instant fan. It was the first recorded example, for me, of women really capturing what I considered to be the bluegrass sound. — Laurie Lewis

Hazel & Alice — Won’t You Come & Sing for Me

When I first started playing bluegrass in 1975, there were two women who were role models: Hazel Dickens and Alice Gerrard. Every woman who was coming into the scene listened to the two albums they made in the ‘60s, and they were a frequent source of material, as well as being huge inspirations. Over the years, Hazel & Alice were heroes, role models, icons, and, eventually, dear friends. I feel lucky to have crossed paths, sung a bit, and laughed a lot with each of those women! — Kathy Kallick

Hazel Dickens, Carol Elizabeth Jones, Ginny Hawker — Heart of a Singer

Three generations of Appalachian women sang together for the first time in the lobby of the good ol’ IBMA. Hazel hadn’t made a record in a decade, but this trio felt special. “The thing that took the longest was choosing the songs,” said Carol Elizabeth, whom I called on a recent night drive to confess my love for this turn-of-the-century masterpiece. It took a year-and-a-half of weekend “marathon singing sessions” to find a batch that checked the boxes — great for harmonies with a story they could stand behind. “Hazel really wanted to sing songs where the women are strong.” Heart of a Singer was recorded in two sessions, one on either side of the birth of Carol Elizabeth’s daughter, Viv Leva (who is now pushing 20 with a forthcoming album that I’ll call an early contender for the next edition of this very list). — Kristin Andreassen

Kathy Kallick — My Mother’s Voice

This is such a beautifully personal album. I love Kathy’s original songs, but these that she learned from her mother tell you everything you need to know about her passion for traditional music. — Megan Lynch

Kenny and Amanda Smith — House Down the Block

When I first heard this record, Amanda’s voice hit me square between the eyes, and I was mesmerized by the choice of material. It really opened me up to the middle ground between covering, for instance, “How Mountain Girls Can Love” and esoteric mid-2000s Alison Krauss songs. — Megan Lynch

Kristin Scott — Kristin Scott

Kristin’s very first album was a cassette-only release, I think, but it had a huge impact — showing that instrumental prowess and instrumental albums were not just the territory of guys. She blazes through “Follow the Leader” and shows off her more wide-ranging musical tastes on tunes like “Bye Bye Blues” and “Charmaine.” — Casey Henry

Laurie Lewis — Love Chooses You

With songs like “Hills of My Home” and “When the Nightbird Sings,” Laurie Lewis created a masterful blend of traditional bluegrass and Americana. This record encouraged and inspired me to honor all of the influences that were brewing within me. — Missy Raines

Laurie Lewis — Restless Ramblin’ Heart

Great songs and aggressive fiddling! This album was the first Laurie Lewis record I owned, and it was the beginning of my journey to become a bluegrass musician. — Megan Lynch

Laurie Lewis & Kathy Kallick — Together

This duet album from these two powerful West Coast women includes Kathy’s song “Don’t Leave Your Little Girl All Alone,” one of the few bluegrass songs in which the ailing mother does not die! They also dedicate “Gonna Lay Down My Old Guitar” to Hazel & Alice with thanks for “breaking trail.” — Murphy Henry

Leyla McCalla — A Day for the Hunter, a Day for the Prey

Having drawn a bit of courage from her time in the Carolina Chocolate Drops, Leyla McCalla ventured out with her own voice on A Day for the Hunter, a Day for the Prey. She felt compelled to not just tell the tales of Black America, but to tell the tales, specifically, of Black Haitian and Creole America. Those are her roots and she wanted to dig them up. Using a cello here and a banjo there, McCalla’s musical — and lyrical — languages bob and weave however they must to remain true to their subjects. And captivatingly so.  — Kelly McCartney

Lynn Morris Band — Shape of a Tear

Lynn’s music is so down to earth, so unpretentious, and just so darn tasteful. While any of the Lynn Morris Band’s albums could easily be included on this list, I think she really out-did herself on Shape of Tear. — Gina Clowes

Lynn Morris Band — The Lynn Morris Band

I started hearing about Lynn Morris in the 1980s, when she was playing with Whetstone Run. Lynn had a wonderful knack for finding material outside of the traditional bluegrass repertoire and turning those songs into bluegrass classics. She was a powerhouse guitar player and a ferocious banjo player, having won the National Banjo Championship in 1974. The fact that she was so accomplished as a musician and couldn’t earn a place in a good band irked her, and she was never completely comfortable leading her own band. Still, she was a wonderful front person, warm and personable, and her voice was heavenly. I had a long conversation with her in the early 1990s about her style of band leading. She took that job very seriously, and she was working with men who were often uncomfortable with her leadership role. She had to hold authority without complete support and that was challenging. She pushed the band hard, with long drives, often with a detour of several hours to play live on the radio or anything else that would promote the band. It paid off, as she was named Female Vocalist of the Year by IBMA, won Song of the Year with Hazel Dickens’ song “Mama’s Hand,” and her bandmates went on to win IBMA awards, as well. — Kathy Kallick

Molly Tuttle — Rise

Molly Tuttle’s 2017 release, Rise, gives me hope for the future of this genre. She’s not only a formidable singer, songwriter, and band leader, but is the first female to win IBMA’s Guitar Player of the Year award. (’bout damn time, amiright?) Her sound is mature and focused, making it a beautiful reflection of the future of bluegrass. — Amy Reitnouer

Ola Belle Reed & Family — Ola Belle Reed & Family

Ola Belle. The original queen of bluegrass singer/songwriter banjo players. She wrote about half of the classics on this album, including “I’ve Endured,” which you probably know from Tim O’Brien’s version. She comes right out and sings “Born in the mountains, 50 years ago” — her age at the time of this recording in ’76 — while most of the cover versions get slippery with “many years ago.” The only quandary I had in including this record on my list of favorite bluegrass albums by women is that I’m rarely able to listen past the brilliance of track four, which happens to be the one song Ola Belle’s son, David, sings solo while accompanying himself on the autoharp. His version of “Lamplighting Time in the Valley” (an old Vagabonds song) is one of those magic tracks that hits you from another dimension and must be listened to on repeat, but since Ola Belle created her son, I’m going to give her the points for that one, too. — Kristin Andreassen

Patty Loveless — Mountain Soul

“Mountain soul” is a common attribute associated with Patty Loveless’s stunning voice, long before she decided to pay homage to her eastern Kentucky heritage with an album by the same title. Her 2001 bluegrass project might be the most authentic of the “country-star-makes-bluegrass-album” endeavors that we have seen. Joined by bluegrass veterans — including Earl Scruggs, Gene Wooten, Clarence “Tater” Tate, and others — Patty also featured some all-star talent from the likes of Ricky Skaggs, Travis Tritt, and Jon Randall for some powerful collaborations. Without question, though, the album’s pinnacle performance is the now-classic rendition of Darrell Scott’s “You’ll Never Leave Harlan Alive” — six minutes of nothing but Patty’s signature “mountain soul” sound. — Daniel Mullins

 

Rayna Gellert — Ways of the World

So Rayna will see this list, raise one eyebrow, and say, “Did I make a bluegrass album?” … because she plays old-time music, you know. If you’re still unsure of the difference, let Ways of the World be a guidepost. Groovy as a giant’s corduroy pant leg, this music needs a fiddle chop like a hole in the knee. But an album of mostly string band instrumentals, including a blessedly reincarnated version of the 100 percent bluegrass-certified “Arkansas Traveler,” is surely a close cousin. When Ways came out in 2000, it was a big moment for those of us who were just coming up through the cracks between folk revivals. A little younger than the hippies and a little older than the yet-to-be hipsters, there weren’t so many of us kids on the scene then. Ways came to me as a gift, and there was a picture in the liner notes of Rayna getting her head shaved. So, of course, we met, and eventually we had a band called Uncle Earl. — Kristin Andreassen

Red White and Blue(grass) — Pickin’ Up

This is the second LP by this early supergroup led by Ginger and Grant Boatwright. Although the album includes just one of Ginger’s original songs, her expressive singing is front and center on most of the tracks. Outstanding instrumental work by Grant on guitar, Dale Whitcomb on banjo, and Byron Berline and Vassar Clements on fiddles make this some of the best ‘70’s bluegrass ever recorded. The repertory is beautifully varied, too, with Ginger’s brilliant renditions of a couple of Bill Monroe classics, original instrumentals by members of the band, Bob Dylan’s “Tomorrow Is a Long Time,” and such diverse traditionals as “Fixin’ to Die” and “Amazing Grace.” — Greg Reish

Rhiannon Giddens — Freedom Highway

While it’s merely bluegrass-adjacent with its old-time, soul, and folk tendencies, this album should be on a list of the top 50 albums by women, regardless of genre. It’s just that good. And just that important. From her early days in the Carolina Chocolate Drops to her current standing as a MacArthur Fellow, Rhiannon Giddens has shown us, time and again, that she ain’t messing around. She is a student of history and an advocate for justice, folding both of those duties together in her music which uses our past to gauge our present. To that end, on Freedom Highway, she gives voice to slaves and other victims of racial violence who dare not speak for themselves, but whose stories must be heard by all courageous and conscious enough to listen. And she stands firm in the roots from which bluegrass grew.  — Kelly McCartney

Rhonda Vincent — Back Home Again

Following a mid-90s foray into commercial country music, Rhonda Vincent had been back in bluegrass for a few years already before releasing her Rounder debut. But signing with the industry-leading label spurred her to a deliberative process that, combined with some of the best singing you’ll ever hear, makes the album a bona fide classic. She recorded two dozen tracks, then listened to what they told her when it came to making her final selections. Back Home Again combines kick-ass, hard-edged bluegrass played by a large and varied all-star cast with heart-wrenching country ballads sung with immaculate yet gripping harmonies, mostly from her brother Darrin with an occasional assist from their father and a couple of others. Nevertheless, the dominant term in the equation is Rhonda’s own singing — not to mention her hand as co-(and arguably lead) producer. The whole thing is polished to a high, high gloss, but it’s compelling as all get-out. — Jon Weisberger

Rhonda Vincent — The Storm Still Rages

At the turn of the century, Rhonda Vincent made a triumphant return to bluegrass music following several years of an under-appreciated country career. Back Home Again resulted in her being crowned the “Queen of Bluegrass,” and 2001’s The Storm Still Rages only enforced the moniker. Perfectly toeing the line between hard-driving traditional bluegrass and smooth acoustic sensitivity, the album includes such Rhonda Vincent classics as “I’m Not Over You,” “Bluegrass Express,” “You Don’t Love God If You Don’t Love Your Neighbor,” and “Is the Grass Any Bluer.” That year also marked Rhonda Vincent & the Rage’s Entertainer of the Year award from the IBMA, making her one of only two female band leaders to bring home the IBMA’s top honor (the other is Alison Krauss), and resulted in her second (of a record eight) IBMA Female Vocalist of the Year awards. The authority with which she sings and plays every note leaves those who want to throw about the “pretty good for a girl” caveat looking foolish. Rhonda is continually expanding the levels of professionalism in bluegrass music, and her ability to raise expectations (not just for women, but for the entire industry) is why she is one of the genre’s premiere figures. The Storm Still Rages is one of the queen’s crowning achievements. — Daniel Mullins

Rose Maddox — Rose Maddox Sings Bluegrass

Released in 1962, this album has the distinction of being the first in the bluegrass field by a female vocalist. I first heard it in about 1974, and while I couldn’t really accept her voice as a bluegrass instrument (her big brassy vibrato sure doesn’t sound like the Stanley Brothers!), I kept going back to it for the sheer fun, the energy of the music, and for the repertoire. It’s got a fine back-up band, featuring Don Reno on banjo, Tommy Jackson on fiddle, and Ronnie Stoneman and Bill Monroe splitting the mandolin chores. — Laurie Lewis

Sara Watkins — Sara Watkins

No, it’s not the most traditional bluegrass album ever recorded, but coming out of Nickel Creek’s more progressive latter days, Sara Watkins’ debut solo record illustrated that she still had at least one foot planted firmly in tradition. But who’s counting? These originals got me through more than one heartbreak and the covers — of Norman Blake, John Hartford, Tom Waits, and Jimmie Rodgers — confirm the respect for the music’s past that you can feel as you listen. Make no mistake, though, Sara Watkins is looking toward roots music’s future; her following solo albums and her work with I’m With Her are blazing a trail I’m excited to follow. — Justin Hiltner

Sierra Hull — Weighted Mind

I think I saw Sierra perform for the first time with her band Highway 111 when I was 17 years old. I was simultaneously inspired — and infuriated — by the fact that someone my age could have so much creativity, such great touch and tone, and such ridiculous chops. Through the years, as we’ve both grown up, the inspiration has only increased and the infuriation is now much more … constructive. Weighted Mind has been hailed as a coming-of-age record for Sierra, but I think that categorization is far too simplistic. When I listen to this record, I do hear maturity, but more prominently, I hear individuality, vulnerability, confidence, transcendence, and infuriating, ridiculous chops. — Justin Hiltner

Skyline — Fire of Grace

This is a weird album, but it was one of the first weird bluegrass albums with a woman fronting the operation. And, yes, Tony Trischka’s name is sort of up front in this band, but it was Dede Wyland’s singing and guitar playing that really stood out. — Megan Lynch

Uncle Earl — Waterloo, Tennessee

Any list of great female albums anywhere in this realm would be incomplete without an entry from the “Bangles of Bluegrass” — Uncle Earl. And their 2007 release, Waterloo, Tennessee, proves why. Packed with 16 old-time tunes, the set weaves the ladies’ vocals harmonies and instrumental chops into an irresistible musical tapestry that is both contemporary and classic. (Rumor has it, the G’earls — KC Groves, Abigail Washburn, Rayna Gellert, and Kristin Andreassen — may even be readying some new material.) — Kelly McCartney

Wilma Lee Cooper — White Rose

After many famous years of singing old-time country music with her husband Stoney, Wilma Lee Cooper released a string of solo albums that veered more and more toward bluegrass following Stoney’s death in 1977. Recorded for Leather Records, which released A Daisy a Day (Wilma Lee’s solo debut), White Rose was recorded in 1981 but wasn’t released until Rebel issued it in 1984. This is pure bluegrass, with Cooper accompanied by some of the best Nashville pickers who also played with her on the road and at the Opry — Marty Lanham on banjo, “Tater” Tate on fiddle, and the brilliant Gene Wooten on dobro. — Greg Reish

MIXTAPE: Paula Cole’s Golden Anniversary Song Celebration

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Way back 50 years ago, in 1967, the music was the stuff of legend — full of artists, songs, and culture that begat the Summer Of Love. So many great bands/artists were burgeoning under the surface: Pink Floyd, Joni Mitchell, Rolling Stones, the Who, Janis Joplin/Big Brother and the Holding Company. Tina Turner was preparing to blow away Ike, and Carole King was readying to become her own artist. The Byrds, the Hollies, and Buffalo Springfield birthed CSN(Y), and audiences booed Dylan at Newport Folk Festival for going electric.

It was a time of great social change, a new generation declaring itself in resistance to the Vietnam War and their parents’ conservatism; a time of refuting politics, haircuts, normalcy; a time of experimentation with mind-altering substances, and a quest for peace and love. The late ’60s were a cauldron of cultures and consciousness, and it made for tremendous music.

Let us stand back and appreciate 1967. Let us hope for our cultural renaissance in 2017, in our equally turbulent times. If ever we need a music revolution again, it is now. As Picasso said, “Artists are the politicians of the future.” — Paula Cole (also a product of 1967)

The Beatles — Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band

The Beatles were sick and tired of being the Beatles, so they became Sgt. Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band, creating the first concept album with no singles. Free from touring, they began to live their unique personal lives, then went to the studio to record their masterwork. Psychedelia, innovation in writing/recording, the 1967 London art scene, Yoko, transcendental meditation, brilliance, and irreverence … they made the alter-ego masterwork whose influence is incalculable.

Aretha Franklin — I Never Loved a Man (The Way I Love You)

Newly signed to Atlantic Records, recording with the Muscle Shoals, Alabama, rhythm section featuring Ms. Franklin on gospel rock piano, Aretha stormed the charts and changed music, hearts, and minds forever with fireworks such as “Respect,” “Think,” “Baby, I Love You,” and “You Make Me Feel (Like A Natural Woman).”

Bobbie Gentry — Ode to Billie Joe

My sister from another generation, an introvert, Best New Artist Grammy winner Bobbie Gentry left the patriarchal music business, leaving us with this amazing story. She sang and played her guitar and, importantly, self-produced in a time when women didn’t do that. Her timeless song leaves us wondering what ever happened to Billie Joe, over the course of a Southern American family supper.

Jimi Hendrix — Are You Experienced?

One of the greatest debuts in music history, Jimi marked the sonic marriage of psychedelic UK rock with American blues and R&B.

Dolly Parton — Hello, I’m Dolly

Dolly’s first full-length album introduced her to the world, with two country hit singles — “Dumb Blonde” and “Something Fishy.”

Miles Davis — Live in Europe: 1967

The album celebrated one of the greatest quartets in musical history behind Miles:
Herbie Hancock, Wayne Shorter, Ron Carter, an Tony Williams.

James Brown — “Cold Sweat”

This was possibly the first funk single — with drums breaks, single chord jams, and funky instrumental arrangements.

Otis Redding — “(Sittin’ on) The Dock of the Bay”

He recorded this in December 1967 and died four days later, never knowing the tremendous success achieved on both the R&B and pop charts. It is said that he wrote this song, influenced by listening to Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band.

Nina Simone — High Priestess of Soul, Nina Simone Sings the Blues, and Silk & Soul

Enough said! Incredible!

Sly and the Family Stone — A Whole New Thing

Sly and company made their debut with this one, which was lauded by Tony Bennett and Mose Allison, despite no commercial success.

Jefferson Airplane — Surrealistic Pillow

Jefferson Airplane had breakthrough hits with “Somebody to Love” and “White Rabbit,” pioneering the psychedelic era of rock.

Other notable musical moments of 1967:

Grateful Dead — The Grateful Dead
Loretta Lynn — Don’t Come Home A-Drinkin (With Lovin’ on Your Mind)
The Doors — The Doors
Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell — “Aint No Mountain High Enough” (off United)
Cream — Disraeli Gears
Simon & Garfunkel — “Mrs. Robinson” (from The Graduate)
Leonard Cohen — Songs of Leonard Cohen
Glen Campbell — Gentle on My Mind
Bob Dylan — “All Along the Watchtower” (off John Wesley Harding)

3×3: May Cheung on Dolly Parton, Tasty Parsnips, and Two Pillows

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Artist: May Cheung
Hometown: Richmond, BC
Latest Album: The Departure
Personal Nicknames: Maymay, Mayday

 

L.A., No. 7 Thank you, Chris. We love you.

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What’s the best concert you’ve ever attended?

Radiohead

How many unread emails or texts currently fill your inbox?

Inbox: 3,000+

How many pillows do you sleep with?

2

 

When life gets gloomy, remember the beauty. #doublerainbow #brooklyn #nofilter #instagood

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How many pairs of shoes do you own?

13

If you were going to buy a famous musician’s pair of dirty socks off of eBay, whose would you buy?

I would buy Dolly Parton’s “dirty” socks. She sweats glitter.

What’s your favorite vegetable?

My favorite vegetable is the parsnip.

 

This is what you’re missing out on. #smoked #salmon #blackberries #nom #brunch #blvdlic

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Fate or free will?

Free will, dude!

Sweet or sour?

Sweet

Sunrise or sunset?

Sunset

Trixie Mattel: Equal Parts Mother Maybelle and Mama Ru

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To be in roots music is to be infatuated with its “good ol’ days,” with its forefathers, and with tradition. Almost any change — stylistic or cultural — is debated. The labels on album spines and headstocks are just as important as the labels given to each other. After all, any genre within roots music is not simply a genre, but a community and, if the members of these communities look, sound, act, and think like ourselves, it’s easier.

On the other hand, the art of drag is all about challenging perceptions and presuppositions. By slapping on a wig and three or four pairs of pantyhose, a queen puts gender identity, sexuality, and societal pressures all under the microscope. In drag, boundaries are meant to be pushed, shock is a commodity, and respect for the “tradition” is more often than not shrouded in biting, heartless insults. Nothing is sacred and no one is safe.

Where the two overlap, we find international drag queen superstar, contestant on season seven of RuPaul’s Drag Race, and folk musician Trixie Mattel. While many Drag Race alumni have released albums — not surprisingly all are dance/club-oriented — Trixie (aka Brian Firkus) just released Two Birds, a folk-influenced country album of original songs. Firkus grew up in rural northern Wisconsin with hardly a neighbor and a shortage of friends, so playing Carter scratch guitar and listening to his grandad’s favorites — Conway Twitty, Johnny Cash, and the like — were the most entertaining use of time. To most roots music fans, that’s an awfully familiar story, right up until you add a wig even larger than Dolly’s, makeup that rivals a clown’s, and a lacy nightgown.

In our brand new column, Shout & Shine, we will explore diverse voices and identities in roots music. We’ll talk to musicians, artists, and creators who don’t fit the “mold.” People who are marginalized within roots music communities — not because their love and respect for the music is lacking, not because they don’t have the familial or cultural ties, and not because they did not grow up learning chords from their grandparents at the kitchen table, but because there are people out there who believe the music can only belong to those who are exactly like themselves. A man in a wig, lashes, nails, and a nightgown is surely disqualified.

When I was scrolling through Twitter and I saw a video of you playing “Storms Are on the Ocean” on autoharp, I was shocked. Where did you get those autoharp chops?

Oh my God, you are going to laugh. I’ve only been playing autoharp for like … five months? I love the instrument! Plus, it’s such a pretty-looking instrument to play in drag. It has such an angelic, feminine look to it. I learned on a chromaharp by Oscar Schmidt and I just got a D’aigle harp made for me. It’s a custom build and it’s so beautiful.

I’ve played guitar for 15 years. I play kind of “Carter scratch” style. I grew up alone in the country playing, so I learned how to play the accompaniment with the melody together on guitar. I’ve always sung and played together, so it made perfect sense. I taught myself guitar, and autoharp, to me, it’s the same business. You use the leading tones of the chords to find the melody. You just learn to play by ear. That instrument, it’s sort of like learning to sight-read or sing solfege — like do-re-mi. Once you do it enough, it becomes second nature. On the album, I got Allison Guinn to play it. She’s like the Beyoncé of autoharp — she’s been on the cover of Autoharp Quarterly and she’s a Broadway actress whose special skill on her Broadway resumé is that she’s an autoharp champion. She’s fabulous.

I saw you perform in Nashville for A Drag Queen Christmas where you sang Dolly Parton’s “Coat of Many Colors” live and accompanied yourself on guitar.

That was the only night I did “Coat of Many Colors.” I love that song and, to me, it’s almost a Christmas song. I ended up dropping it because I wanted to do what I normally do — I do a stand-up set with music woven in. I’ll make a joke about Aja [RuPaul’s Drag Race season nine contestant] looking like a burn victim, then I’ll sing “Girl on Fire” for 15 seconds. Or I’ll make a Columbine joke then sing “Dust in the Wind” for 10 seconds. That’s usually what I do — little bits of music punctuated by jokes. For Nashville, I wanted to do “Coat of Many Colors,” because I thought, if anybody is going to go on this journey with me, it’s the people in Nashville.

I play guitar. I went to school for music, but it never occurred to me to make Trixie sing. When I started, it was like a light turned on. I never really sang in drag until this year. I look like Dolly Parton, but I sing like Garth Brooks … like it doesn’t really make sense. [Laughs] It didn’t make sense to me for Trixie to have this man’s singing voice. But then the comedy became less about being a drag queen and more autobiographical. The stand-up show I’m doing now, there’s a portion where I do original music and it’s always everyone’s favorite part of the show. It occurred to me, people relate and are more responsive to Trixie being a singing drag queen than I thought they would be, so I might as well run with it.

You said you’ve been playing guitar for 15 years — how did you get started?

I’m from the Northwoods of Wisconsin, and we didn’t have any neighbors or anything. I didn’t have any friends. There wasn’t anyone else who lived around us, so I learned to play guitar at the kitchen table from my grandpa, who was a country musician his whole life. At 13, I started and he kind of taught me, but he was a little more insistent on me teaching myself. He said, “If you were a good musician, you could figure it out on your own,” which I think is sort of true.

Who did you listen to growing up? Who did your grandpa turn you on to?

He turned me on to George Jones, Roy Orbison, Johnny Cash, Conway Twitty. Obviously, I gravitated more toward the women — I liked Loretta a lot. Dolly. Loretta and Dolly, for me, are running head-to-head for my favorite. I think Dolly is a finer musician, but I do like that Loretta’s music is a little rougher and tougher. She’s a little more like a tomboy in country music. I like the rougher side of her lyrics, and it’s a little more mellow. Her songs are about being poor and stuff, but obviously, I’m a drag queen, so I like that Dolly wears full drag.

There was some crossover into pop music for a while, that stuff you listen to when you’re a teenager. With folk, I was like, “That’s old people music! My grandparents like that.” When I started to get older, I was done with it, but then only as an adult, when I entered my mid-20s, did I realize that country and folk, given how simple it is, it speaks to the most basic human needs. It’s simple music because it’s by simple people for simple people, really.

I’m the only person from my family to go to college. You can be smart, but not educated and, in folk music, that’s pretty apparent. There’s an emotional intelligence. They communicate really deep things with clean, simple structures in the music.

The people who created this music have always had marginalized identities: immigrants, impoverished people in Appalachia, African slaves, African-Americans being excluded from Western European music and turning to jazz, creating blues. Roots music has always been this vehicle for the struggle of people who are othered. It would makes sense that LGBTQ identities could be intuitively folded into that music, but within these genres, there persists this narrative that they belong to straight, white, Christian men.

Folk music feels like it’s not for us because the culture that surrounds folk music is so old school and very religious. We feel like we can’t belong in that genre of music. When is a gay [artist] ever going to win a CMT Award? Probably never. Or even like an Americana award or something smaller. It’s a challenging thing. Folk’s contemporary movement is a little more liberal.

When I wanted to do the album, I thought it was going to be a shot in the dark, because I really wanted to use gay musicians, if I could. It wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be. My producer, Brandon James Gwinn, is originally from Nashville, but he works in New York producing off-Broadway music material for musical theatre. I’m a half-musical theatre person, half-folk person, so he was perfect, because he knew the Nashville sound. He worked on Ring of Fire, the Johnny Cash musical, and he had a network of people, like the fiddle player and bass player.

I feel like a foray into the roots music market would be daunting for any LGBTQ person, let alone a behemoth character/star such as Trixie?

Originally, when we shot the album artwork, we did it in drag, out of drag, and we shot one together, because we weren’t sure how we were going to market it. We also thought about doing two different covers and different names to sell the album in different ways, because we wanted people who like folk music to pick it up, but not be deterred by the fact that there’s somebody who puts on a dress on the cover. My manager asked me if I wanted to release it as Trixie or as Brian. First I said Trixie, then I said Brian, then I was like, “You know what? It’s kind of irrelevant. It’s more about the story of the music. People can envision whoever they want singing it. That’s kind of irrelevant. That’s sort of the point of the album.”  I didn’t want to market it as drag, but I didn’t want to shit on what people already know about me. It would make no sense, as a business person, to market it without the name on it, because all of the followers I’ve gotten — who like me for comedy, for dressing up — it would be stupid to not try to also let them know that there are other things going on.

I think people, in general, especially in drag and with the age of drag on television, people aren’t used to drag queens having any discernible gifts whatsoever. Nowadays, dressing up is enough. When people see you do something, they’re like, “Oh my God! That person got on stage and did a thing!” I’m like, “By the way, Linda, people used to have to do that.”

How does it feel for you to go from being a former Drag Race contestant to becoming a songwriter?

I’ve always felt like a songwriter first and a live performer second. It’s exciting to have people hear it, even if they don’t hear it live. But I also prefer to play alone. I’ve always played by myself — it’s just what I’m used to. I really love to do stand-up and I love to do comedy and I think I’m actually funnier than I am a fine musician, so I like to blend the two together.

I’m hoping people will go on the journey with me. A lot of people love me for the look and for the comedy. I hope that they’ll listen to it. The music is kind of the behind-the-scenes of the lifestyle of being a comedian and drag queen. It’s not necessarily funny music; though a lot of it has a sense of humor to it, it’s not comedy music.

Would you say on your family tree, on one side you have Mother Maybelle and on the other side you have Mama Ru?

Oh yeah, totally! I’m so into that. There’s a museum somewhere that has Mother Maybelle’s autoharp on display and I’d love to go see it someday.

Last question: Do you think there oughta be a bluegrass drag queen named Shady Grove?

Oh my God. Yes. The answer is yes.

Yep Roc Records Partners with Southern Folklife Collection for New Series of Releases

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Record Store Day is right around the corner, which means the vinyl geeks among us are getting ready for what might as well be called Christmas in April. New releases, exclusive LPs, free swag … Record Store Day has it all, and we want it all.

One of the cooler releases on that April 22 holiday is a special Dolly Parton 45 rpm featuring “Puppy Love,” the first song the country legend ever recorded at the young age of 13. Paired with another Parton rarity, “Girl Left Alone,” the “Puppy Love” single is the first release from a new partnership between Yep Roc Records and the Southern Folklife Collection. 

An endeavor nearly four years in the making, the project will make some of the Southern Folklife Collection’s available in both physical and digital form, with production and distribution handled by Yep Roc. The music is culled from Southern Folklife’s massive archives, housed at the organization’s home base of the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. 

“We were putting on a tribute to Reverend Gary Davis, and Glen and Billy from Yep Roc came to the event,” Steven Weiss, curator of the Southern Folklife Collection, explained. “We started talking about the possibility of doing something, and it grew from there.”

As Weiss explained, there are over 250,000 sound recordings currently housed in the collection’s archives. So far, Southern Folklife and Yep Roc have plans for three releases from those thousands, and left it up to Weiss to choose which pieces would make the final cut. In addition to the first release from Parton, the partnership will release a Cajun/zydeco compilation called Swampland Jewels on September 22 and a live album from Doc Watson either late this year or early in 2018.

“Some of them are things that have been in the back of our minds, in terms of projects that we’ve wanted to do for a number of years, that seemed like they would have commercial appeal,” Weiss says of the Yep Roc albums. “Two of the records are from Goldband Records, which is a record company whose collection is here. That’s a small, independent record company out of Lake Charles, Louisiana, that started after World War II. They were the first ones to record Dolly Parton. They recorded her when she was 13 years old, a song called ‘Puppy Love.’ That was her first single.”

While the Dolly Parton single is about to hit stores, Weiss is still at work on Swampland Jewels, the songs for which he is curating himself. Songs by Boozoo Chavis, Cleveland Crochet, Iry LeJune, Jr., and Jo-El Sonnier will be part of that package. “It’s like a greatest hits compilation of Cajun and zydeco musicians who recorded for the label,” Weiss says. “Those range from the 1960s probably into the ‘80s.”

The final offering in the first trio of albums from the partnership is a special one — a live performance by Doc Watson recorded at Club 47 in Cambridge, Masschusetts, in 1963. Several of the songs included on the album are otherwise unreleased.

“That just came to my attention within the last year,” Weiss says of the Watson record. “It was donated to the collection. It’s just so exceptional that we thought there was an audience for it, and that it fills a particular niche, as well as being a really nice addition to Doc’s catalog.”

So far, those three albums are the only projects with firm release schedules, though Weiss does note that there will be more albums coming from the partnership in the future, including an album by little known string band the Bluegrass Champs. “Some of the Stonemen family were in that group,” Weiss says. “They were basically teenage kids playing on the bluegrass circuit, playing small country music parks. This is a live performance from one of those parks. It’s just a really nice performance. They were a really high-powered group, and I don’t think there are too many recordings of them.”

MIXTAPE: It’s a Cheating Situation

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About two weeks into February, you’ll find that darlings in love glow; strong, single types treat themselves; and the unlucky who’ve been wronged get a brutal reminder of that wronging. Who needs all those normative flowers, heart-shaped boxes, chocolate-dipped strawberries, and bubbly? Who needs that ungrateful someone who-shall-not-be-named with the wandering eye? We’ll take depressing songs about heartbreak and infidelity instead, thanks. At least, that’s what we’ll keep telling ourselves.

Ricky Skaggs: “Don’t Cheat in Our Hometown”

Ricky started performing this song with Ralph Stanley and the Clinch Mountain Boys back when both he and a young Keith Whitley were in the band. (The best iteration of the Clinch Mountain Boys ever? Yes.) Now, it would seem like the subject of this song would go without saying. While we do not condone philandering, we do recommend sticking to this rule of thumb, if you find yourself thinking it’s smart to break his heart and run down his name. (As a bonus, check out the album artwork from Ricky’s eponymous country record. It is everything.)

Darrell Scott: “Too Close to Comfort”

There’s one line in this song that bugged me for a while: “Lying with strangers one more last time.” It felt clunky, the grammar felt off. Then one day, it just hit me. There have been plenty of “last times” before this one. It’s the singer’s last “last time.” Just once more. Anyone with first-hand experience of the foolin’ around kind knows that with this line — hell, the whole song — Darrell Scott delivers songwriting gold, once again.

J.D. Crowe & the New South: “Summer Wages”

It would seem that there’s a much higher rate of friends stealing friends’ girls in bluegrass music than other genres. Tony sings this with such conviction; it really is one of the best existentially sad songs of bluegrass. “Never leave your woman alone when your friends are out to steal her. She’ll be gambled and lost like summer wages.”

Dolly Parton: “I’m Gonna Sleep with One Eye Open”

Dolly has no shortage of cheating songs in her repertoire. (Let’s be honest: “Jolene” would’ve been too easy a choice.) It’s nice to hear a woman sing cheating songs because, despite the greater number of songs sung by jilted men, we know infidelity isn’t really a gender issue; it’s pretty much just a human one.

Flatt & Scruggs and the Foggy Mountain Boys: “I’ll Go Stepping Too”

Just a classic. Lester’s drawl, Earl’s banjo, the iconic fiddle turn-around kickoff … you gotta love it all. Equal footing in an unfaithful relationship might not be the best approach, though. Just make sure you put out the cat before you go stepping, too.

John Prine: “It’s a Cheating Situation”

John Prine and Irish folk singer Dolores Keane hit the nail so solidly on the head. They sing to the humanity we overlook in wandering spouses or significant others. “It’s a cheating situation. Just a cheap imitation. Doing what we have to do. When there’s no love at home.” This one was written by Moe Bandy, who happens to be so adept at penning cheating songs, we had to include him later on in this list, too.

Nickel Creek: “Can’t Complain”

This song feels like a sort of roots music trance experiment — with its title as mantra. To the offending party, cheating often feels like an inevitability, but does that absolve the sin? In retrospect, do the circumstances change the nature of the outcome? Or perhaps the crux is that, despite the way things end and the bridges burnt, maybe it’s all still worth it. There’s a redemptive message we can get behind.

The Kendalls: “Heaven’s Just a Sin Away”

Now this is a song with a hook. Yeah, it’s a little weird to hear a father and daughter sing in harmony about forbidden love, but let’s just gloss over that and enjoy it for what it is: a killer, old-fashioned, bittersweet, real country, cheatin’ duet with some sick twin electric guitar. Bonus: Check out their tune “Pittsburgh Stealers.” Once again, a cheating song, but with steel mills and, yes, football wordplay for a hook. Simply masterful.

Shania Twain: “Whose Bed Have Your Boots Been Under?”

Two words: guilty pleasure. This is like the country version of “Mambo No. 5” … “List a bunch of women’s names!” But damn, it’s an earworm. End of caption.

Moe Bandy: “I Just Started Hatin’ Cheatin’ Songs Today”

Listening to heartbreak song after heartbreak song can be particularly painful when you empathize a little too strongly with them. Throw-a-bottle-at-the-jukebox painful. But those moments are when we find the therapeutic power of song at its strongest. It is comforting to know there are other sad bastards out there taking out their hurt on depressing records, too, right?

Doyle & Debbie: “When You’re Screwin’ Other Women (Think of Me)”

The reason we had to put this song last on this list is because it renders all of the other songs above null and void. This is the only one that matters. This is the magnum opus of cheating songs done up right by America’s number one country sweethearts. Happy Valentine’s Day, y’all.

Photo credit: KTDrasky via Foter.com / CC BY

MIXTAPE: Lee Ann Womack’s Country Primer

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When we needed an artist to make us a Mixtape of classic country tunes, we turned immediately to Lee Ann Womack … and not just because we love her very, very much, but also because she grew up hanging out in an East Texas radio station while her father played some of the greatest country music ever made. LAW noted that these aren’t, necessarily, her favorite country songs and they don’t go all the way back, but they are certainly a solid representation of the genre’s great past which has absolutely informed its wonderful present.

Johnny Cash — “I Walk the Line”
The ultimate crossover artist, he took country beyond all boundaries. He’s not just one of the greatest country artists, but one of the greatest American artists of all time.

Bill Monroe — “Blue Moon of Kentucky”
He might have been known as the Father of Bluegrass, but music in the country genre was heavily influenced by Bill Monroe. I love — and have borrowed from — the mournful sound of his vocals, the electricity of the harmony vocals, and the drive of the instruments in his music.

The Carter Family — “Wildwood Flower”
Nicknamed the First Family of Country Music, the Carter Family were pioneers of mountain gospel and country music, utilizing harmony vocals in a way that would influence the country genre for many years to come.

Waylon Jennings — “Lonesome, On’ry and Mean”
He had a career as a sideman for Buddy Holly and as a disc jockey in radio before he ever came to Nashvillle to make country records. He was part of the first platinum country album, Wanted: The Outlaws, along with Willie Nelson, Tompall Glaser, and Jessi Colter. To me, Waylon was the epitome of the marriage of rock and country, bringing all of his West Texas vibes to ’70s country.

Tammy Wynette — “Stand by Your Man”
You’d be hard pressed to find someone who isn’t familiar with Tammy and her song “Stand by Your Man.” It’s been a controversy several times over! Her voice is like a broken heart poured directly through stereo speakers and her life seemed like a living, breathing country song.

Loretta Lynn — “Coal Miner’s Daughter”
The ultimate country female singer, she wrote and sang about her life, which reflected so many of the people in rural America and the things they were going through. Listening to her music, one could learn a lot about the times she grew up in, and that’s country music: real life.

Dolly Parton — “Coat of Many Colors”
Her Appalachian roots, so present in her voice and music and, obviously, in the lyrics she wrote. The perfect example of a country girl with bluegrass/mountain influences.

Buck Owens — “Together Again”
From Sherman, Texas, and, along with Merle, created the Bakersfield sound. As is often told, Buck influenced countless other artists in and outside the country genre, not the least of which was the Beatles. I always loved his use of the telecaster and harmonies via Don Rich, and could hear their influences in so many of the country acts that followed.

Merle Haggard — “Okie from Muskogee”
The smoothest and prettiest voice of the male country singers, I always loved Merle for his music and his appreciation of music. I love his playing and especially love his studious approach, pouring over the catalogs of masters like Bob Wills and Jimmie Rodgers — not to mention the blues and jazz music influences you can hear in him. He fascinates me. Along with Buck, they created a whole new country music scene in Bakersfield and refused to play by the rules. I love it.

George Jones — “He Stopped Loving Her Today”
I could do a whole list of just George Jones songs. To me, he surpasses all others because he actually created a new style of singing. Often imitated but never, ever has anyone come close to duplicating. As Gram said, “He’s the king of broken hearts.”

Hank Williams — “I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry”
A country boy with so much soul, he transcends any genre and is one of the greatest songwriters in all of music.

Willie Nelson — “Crazy”
An American treasure, Willie is another artist who really transcends all genres, but there’s no mistaking his country upbringing. He puts music first, before any kind of labels or boxes, and he definitely influenced Nashville and Texas music in a huge way and showed that, when it’s honest, country music and country artists can have mass appeal.

BGS Class of 2016: Songs

Posted on by Editor

Any given year is damn well over-run with great music — far too much for any one list to encompass. So, for our year-end songs round up, the BGS writers each picked tunes they loved that were not on any of our year-end albums. Maybe we loved the whole record; maybe we didn't. But we sure do love these tunes.

Aaron Lee Tasjan, Silver Tears, "Little Movies"

Aaron Lee Tasjan has a long, varied resumé. A founding member of glam-rock band Semi Precious Weapons and an ex-guitarist for the New York Dolls, Tasjan is now making some of the most interesting country music currently coming out of Nashville. Silver Tears track "Little Movies" is a perfect little slice of what Tasjan has to offer: soaring harmonies, unorthodox arrangements, and smart, compelling songwriting. — Brittney McKenna

Adia Victoria, Beyond the Bloodhounds, “Stuck in the South”

“I don’t know nothing ‘bout Southern belles, but I can tell you something ‘bout Southern hell,” Adia Victoria exclaims on this swampy burner that anchors her debut album, Beyond the Bloodhounds. Giving form to her experience as a Black woman raised in the Seventh Day Adventist Church in the South, she tackles the complexities of southern identity with equal parts grace and grit. Her arresting vocals and hypnotizing guitar make for a sound that’s unapologetically haunting: It’ll stick with you long after the final notes ring out. — Desiré Moses

Andy Shauf, The Party, "Quite Like You"

If Andy Shauf’s The Party is the overarching Saturday night hang, this intensely rhythmic song details a corner of the party through a story of being friend-zoned. We’ve all been there, and you can hear the vulnerability in Shauf’s voice as he lays it out, atop distorted piano riffs. — Josephine Wood

Beyoncé featuring the Dixie Chicks, "Daddy Lessons"

One of the only bright moments in the absolute garbage fire of a year that has been 2016 was the "surprise" performance of "Daddy Lessons" from Beyoncé and the Dixie Chicks at the 50th annual CMA Awards. To some, it may have seemed like an unexpected pairing, but given both the Dixie Chicks' reverence for the twangy Lemonade track (they performed it on their 2016 world tour), the Texas connection, and the two artists' shared histories as "controversial" figures, it shouldn't have been. Less surprising than the performance itself was the new controversy that quickly followed — a coded "Was that really country?" debate that, in some ways, mirrored the troubling dialogue occurring around the soon-to-be-determined presidential election. The performance was a victory for diversity on a stage that greatly needed it, as well as the best "fuck you" to the industry that unceremoniously excommunicated them over a decade prior that the Dixie Chicks, who were invited to perform at the insistence of Queen Bey herself, could have possibly imagined. — BMc

Dori Freeman, Dori Freeman, “You Say”

To call Freeman’s “You Say” simple would do a disservice to the intricacies she weaves with her lyricism and arrangement. Quiet, yes; simple, no. The higher register that marks her vocals on the verses dips down into growling pain on the chorus. “Darling I can’t stop thinking of you/ Like a dog in the hot night, I’m howling for you,” Freeman sings, her pronunciation striking the consonants of “darling” and “dog” in affective ways that create an expansive longing. — Amanda Wicks

Dylan LeBlanc, Cautionary Tale, "Easy Way Out"

Honestly, there's a case to be made for every one of the 10 tunes on this Dylan LeBlanc record to be cited for its greatness. They are all just that finely crafted and fantastically rendered. On this cut, he turns his very pointed gaze inward to explore his own struggles with depression and addiction. "Thorazine dreams are thundering in dangerous weather where, in my head, I'll soon be dead or soon feeling better." Having come out the on the latter side of that equation, LeBlanc knows of what he speaks (and sings) in regard to cautionary tales. — Kelly McCartney

Hamilton Leithauser + Rostam, I Had a Dream That You Were Mine, "Peaceful Morning"

Former Vampire Weekend multi-instrumentalist Rostam Batmanglij and the Walkmen's Hamilton Leithauser seem, on paper, like two of the unlikeliest musicians to make a thoughtful folk-rock album, but that's exactly what they've done with I Had a Dream That You Were Mine, their debut album as a duo. Standout track "Peaceful Morning" opens with a gentle banjo over an acoustic drum kit and simple piano chords, before opening with a lyric ("I thought I heard the angels, Lord") that could have been plucked right out of a bluegrass song. The song, like the album, is unlike anything else released this year, a vital piece of work from supposed outsiders breathing new life into the increasingly exhausted genre that is Americana. — BMc

Hayes Carll, Lovers & Leavers, "The Love That We Need"

Hayes Carll's dissection of a marriage that slowly falls from passion to plain is the exact opposite of a manufactured Music Row truck song — it may not be manly to admit that (gasp!) men and women both crave stability and partnership to a fault, but it works as a perfect confession on "The Love That We Need." Most love songs paint romance as ending with a dramatic bang, but Carll knows that the metaphor of two lovers, side by side in bed with bodies that never touch, is one that hits most of us where it hurts. It's a moment to help realize that the pain of letting go is better than the paralysis of holding on to something broken. — Marissa Moss

Jonny Fritz, Sweet Creep, "Stadium Inn"

Is there anyone out there with an imagination like Jonny Fritz? You can point out the humor and weird wit in Sweep Creep's songs all you want, but perhaps Fritz's most notable talent is the wild ways he's able to warp his mind to tell stories using building blocks no one else would ever think of or see scenarios that would take anyone else a handful of magic mushrooms to ever access. Case in point: "Stadium Inn," which imagines life beyond the mysteriously stained, always-open drapes of a seedy Nashville motel, set to a honky-tonk-meets-"Superstition" vamp and spatters of down-on the-farm fiddle. Horney honeymooners, hookers, and philandering husbands: It's all here for the taking. And no one serves it up like Fritz. — MM

Joseph, I'm Alone, No You're Not, “White Flag”

You could cherry pick a few songs from Joseph’s full-length debut and manage to come away confused about their designation as roots music. But catch this trio of sisters from Portland, Oregon, performing together on a stage, and you’ll see the rich folk tradition that inspired the bulk of their harmony-driven catalog. “White Flag” is Joseph drawing from the best of both worlds: a rhythmic, chant-like intro, crisp lyrics, strong vocal harmonies, and an upbeat chorus that will seep into your brain and refuse to leave. With its accessible sound and traditional roots, “White Flag” is the perfect gateway song — drawing pop fans into more authentic, traditional sounds and, likewise, bringing traditionalists out of their comfort zones. — Dacey Orr

Levon Henry, Sinker, "Skin of the Lion"

Upon pressing play, you’ll be in an instantly altered state of mind, as Levon Henry sings about releasing a tiger with the song building a musical haze from there. Henry’s sultry vocals combine with repetitive guitar riffs and distorted vocals to create a jazzed-up Tame Impala-esque sound. — JW

Lewis & Leigh, Ghost, "The 4:19"

Some duos sound superfluous — like a person adorned in one too many pieces of jewelry — and others fit together so intensely that it's impossible to imagine on without the other. The latter is the case with Lewis & Leigh's harmonies on their debut LP, Ghost, that always sound like a casual conversation within a complex psyche. It's at its best on tracks like "The 4:19" which is, in some ways, more Elliot Smith than Civil Wars, a work of languorous beauty about finding a place to belong when we're always in motion in the exact opposite direction of our expectations. — MM

LP, Death Valley, "Muddy Waters" & "Lost on You"

These two fantastic tracks tether LP's Death Valley EP to a rootsier sound than she employed on her last record and, MAN, do they do it right. The purposely plodding groove of "Muddy Waters" evokes exactly what it's meant to: a defiant, burdened body slogging through an emotional swamp … but slogging through nonetheless. The wispier cowboy swagger of "Lost on You" — replete with a cattle rustler's whistle — lightens things up, but still stands brazenly indignant in response to a broken heart. — KMc

Lucy Dacus, No Burden, “Troublemaker Doppelganger”

The second track on Lucy Dacus’s debut album (which bears the sharpness of a veteran work) is a bluesy jaunt that deals in dualities. “Is that a hearse or a limousine?” the Virginia native asks in the opening line before declaring, “I saw a girl that looked like you, and I wanted to tell everyone to run away from her.” Expanding beneath Dacus’s honey-dipped vocals is a propulsive riff brimming with so much swagger that you can’t help but nod along. — DM

Mandolin Orange, Blindfaller, “Take This Heart of Gold”

“Take This Heart of Gold” is a pledge — the kind of assurance lovers offer one another when they see that settling down isn’t settling. An electric guitar offers a shimmery rumination to start, and that contemplation only grows with Andrew Marlin’s staid vocals. The focus, as always with this duo, is the harmonies. Emily Frantz’s voice adds a punctuating note on the verses and swells with Marlin’s on the chorus. It’s soft and sweet without the daydream of idealism. This is reality shining through. — AW

Marisa Anderson, Into the Light, "He Is Without His Guns"

While it was a bad year for just about everything else, 2016 was a great year for guitar players. Everyone from William Tyler and Ryley Walker to Bryan Sutton and Billy Strings released strong albums that reinforced the instrument’s place at the forefront of roots music. Arguably the best and most wide-ranging was Marisa Anderson’s Into the Light, which she described as the soundtrack to a sci-fi Western. If that’s the case, then “He Is Without His Guns” scores the high-noon showdown between gunslingers, evoking the dusty ambience of Ennio Morricone and Wild West grandeur of John Ford. — Stephen Deusner

Michael Kiwanuka, Love & Hate, "Black Man in a White World"

Soul singer Michael Kiwanuka brings his rightful lineage and legacy to bear on this standout track from his fantastic Love & Hate LP. Propulsed by hand claps, the song lays out in stark emotional relief the toil it takes walking through the white world as a Black man with lines like "I'm in love, but I'm still sad. I've found peace, but I'm not glad." That's because even the small wins come with far too many losses for people of color. Even so, Kiwanuka takes the wind righout out of the clichéd sails of the "angry Black man" trope by proclaiming, "I've lost everything I had and I'm not angry and I'm not mad." Clear eyes, full heart, can't lose. — KMc

Miranda Lambert, The Weight of These Wings, "Pushin' Time"

A lot of the songs on Miranda Lambert's The Weight of These Wings are only partially and/or questionably autobiographical. This tune, though, is one that fully, unflinchingly is, as it details the beginnings of her relationship with Anderson East (who lends captivatingly tender harmony vocals to the track). It's one of the most beautiful love songs of the year, mostly because it never crosses the line into overly dreamy sentimentality, choosing rather to stay grounded in its appropriately hopeful romanticism. Who doesn't resonate with a line like "I didn't know I could be kissed like that," if not in experience then, at the very least, in expectation? This song is what dreams are made of. And, sometimes, it seems, those dreams really do come true. — KMc

The Raconteurs, Jack White Acoustic Recordings 1998 – 2016, “Carolina Drama (Acoustic Mix)”

This iteration of the Raconteurs’ “Carolina Drama” is a stripped-down, eerie acoustic murder ballad on string-infused steroids, with the guitar more twangy, strings more prominent, and drums notably missing. — JW

Robert Ellis, Robert Ellis, “California”

“California” begins tranquilly enough, with Robert Ellis softly plucking electric guitar and crooning in his juke joint style. But, by the chorus, the whole thing damn near explodes into the kind of haughty indifference one feigns after a breakup. “Maybe I’ll move to California with the unbroken part of heart I still have left,” he sings of the main character’s decision to leave behind shattered promises. The drums enter the conversation at the chorus as pounding echoes and the guitar’s pacing becomes more frantic. Ellis has mined the California hills and discovered gold. — AW

Shirley Collins, Lodestar, "Awake Awake / The Split Ash Tree/ May Carol / Southover"

On her first album in nearly 40 years, Shirley Collins reintroduces herself with this 11-minute medley of traditional tunes that may date back centuries but still feel startling, unnervingly current. “Awake Awake” was originally written in the late 1500s, but it could have been a response to Brexit, shaming a nation for its hubris. “May Carol,” on the other hand, hopes for a better future for us all. That’s what makes Lodestar the comeback of the year: It reveals an artist who loses herself humbly in her songs, allowing history to speak to the present. — SD

Shovels & Rope, Little Seeds, “Buffalo Nickel”

Shovels & Rope are the rowdiest and, arguably, most adventurous roots band around, capable of clangorous punk conflagration, as well as gentle country musings about life and loss. “Buffalo Nickel” is most definitely the former. The song crashes through a brick wall, opening with a pummeling drumbeat and a barbed guitar riff, like a shotgun wedding of “Be My Baby” and “99 Problems.” But even when they’re trying to “shake the noise out of the rattle,” Michael Trent and Cary Ann Hearst are disarmingly candid about the nature of their collaboration, both musically and romantically, and this boisterous song paints them as bandits on the run, a folk-punk Bonnie & Clyde, playing each note like they’re pulling a Brinks heist. — SD

Sierra Hull, Weighted Mind, “Black River”

Weighted Mind is far from the first time bluegrass fans are hearing from mandolin savant Sierra Hull, but the January full-length from the 25-year-old finds her more confident in her own voice than ever before. “Black River” takes the thick, messy mascara tears familiar to plenty of 20-somethings and transforms them to the stuff of poetry. “A thousand years is but a day, they say. And maybe in a thousand more I will find my way,” she sings at the close of the chorus. One can only hope she will continue to chronicle every step with the honesty and musical integrity of Weighted Mind. — DO

Wilco, Schmilco, “Normal American Kids”

The opening track of Wilco’s 10th album, Schmilco, has all the makings of an instant classic. In this anthem for misfits, Jeff Tweedy quietly croons about his days as a teenage stoner who “always hated those normal American kids” over low-strummed guitar. At a time when the definition of what it means to be American is just as elastic as the definition of “normal,” Tweedy questions it all using wholly American songwriting tropes: malaise, rebellion, and nostalgia. — DM

The Wild Reeds, Best Wishes, “What I Had In Mind”

It’s one thing to have a bandleader with a killer voice. It’s another to have members in the group capable of backing that one standout singer with precise harmonies. But what happens when you have three singers capable of taking the lead? Look no further than Los Angeles band the Wild Reeds for the answer to that question. On “What I Had in Mind,” a gut-wrencher from this year’s three-song release Best Wishes, things start out low-key enough: steady strumming behind a lone, sweet vocal. But, by three minutes into the song, these robust three-part harmonies will have successfully worked even the most stoic listeners into a full-on emotional frenzy. The ebb and flow they foster makes the parting line feel all the more lonely, whether you relate to the lyric or the sound itself: “My hope was strong, but overpowered by a boy whose faith was swallowed by his doubt.” — DO

BGS Class of 2016: Six of the Year’s Best Reissues

Posted on by Editor

ICYMI, 2016 was a great year for new roots music — go check out our BGS Class of 2016: Albums feature, if you need some convincin'. We were introduced to Courtney Marie Andrews, gifted with a solo album from Amanda Shires, floored by Brandy Clark's sophomore solo effort, and so very much more. Lucky for us, 2016 was also a big year for roots reissues, so those of you playing along at home who have more of a "get off my lawn" approach to listening to music have plenty to be happy about, too. And we've rounded up a handful of this year's reissues that we can't stop spinning.

Etta Baker, Railroad Bill

It's no secret that we at the BGS love Music Maker Relief Foundation, a North Carolina-based nonprofit dedicated to preserving Southern music. One of the many wonderful things they did in 2016 was reissuing Etta Baker's excellent Railroad Bill on vinyl. If experiencing Baker's take on Woody Guthrie's "Going Down the Road Feeling Bad" in all its analog glory isn't enough of a draw, perhaps the never-before-seen digital videos that accompany the piece are.

J.D. Crowe and the New South, 0044

One of the most beloved bluegrass albums of all time came from a band that was around for less than a year. That album, nicknamed 0044 after being assigned the number by label Rounder Records, was the sole project of J.D. Crowe and the New South, features musicians like Gordon Lightfoot and Rodney Crowell, and counted Alison Krauss and her band as fans. It was re-released as an expanded vinyl edition on Record Store Day in April. If you're interested in learning the history of this iconic release, Rounder Records founder Bill Nowlin wrote a three-part series about 0044 for us earlier this year. Check out Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3.

Trio, The Complete Trio Collection

Oh man, where do we even begin with this one. Dolly, Emmylou, AND Linda? On not one but TWO albums? With bonus demos and unreleased songs? We mere mortals don't deserve it, but we'll sure as hell take it.

Buck Owens and the Buckaroos, The Complete Capitol Singles: 1957-1966

This new collection from Omnivore pulls together 56 of the songs that made Buck Owens a legend, and packages them up all nice and remastered. A liner note introduction written by Dwight Yoakam is the icing on top of this sweet, twangy cake.

The New Kentucky Colonels, Live in Sweden 1973

This sought-after live album from the New Kentucky Colonels has been out of print since 1976, but now it's finally available, and with additional content, to boot. Some 26 tracks chronicle two nights in Stockholm — a big step up from the original LP's 14 songs.

Junior Kimbrough, Meet Me in the City

It was the year of the reissue for Fat Possum Records, who released 30 different blues titles to vinyl in 2016. One of those albums was Junior Kimbrough's Meet Me in the City, a compilation of some of the Mississippi bluesman's greatest tunes, released one year after he passed away from a heart attack at the age of 67 in 1998.

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Lightning Bolt Writing: A Conversation with Yola Carter

Posted on by Editor

Yola Carter had planned to start her solo career slowly. Play some shows, work up some songs, settle in with a band. Make an EP. Take her time with an album. Build up an audience gradually and carefully.

It’s not going that way at all.

Following a brief UK tour this Summer, she made her U.S. debut at AmericanaFest in September, which was rapturously received and put her in touch with numerous labels along Music Row. Suddenly everything sped up. That EP wouldn’t wait, and Carter released Orphan Offering in November. She is set to sign with a label and launch more tours in 2017, with a full-length debut not too far off on the horizon. She is one of the grassroots success stories of 2016.

“I had planned to do a small thing and put it out on Bandcamp or TuneCore,” she says. “Just something to say, 'This is what I’m about. I’m here.' Then I got to Nashville, and it did not check out like that. So this whole slow thing I was doing — it’s over. It’s a real blessing, but it does make you hectic.”

Hers is an inevitable, but still somewhat unlikely, rise. Carter possesses a voice that is at once powerful and gentle, exuberant and melancholy, with a subtle, soulful drawl bending her vowels. She might be an even better songwriter, though, breathing new life into familiar country and gospel conventions and making them sound fresh and urgent. And yet, at a time when Beyoncé’s foray into Dixieland jazz and Nashville twang stirred up a controversy about what is and isn’t country music, this “Black chick from the UK” is intent not so much to break new ground, but to show that the ground she’s standing on is historically solid.

“All of the things that fall under the umbrella of Americana are so intrinsically linked,” she says. “I think that’s why I love it so much. I think that’s why I connect to country of the past. I love how closely connected everything was — gospel and country and soul and everything.”

Growing up as one of very few Black children in a predominantly white seaside town near Bristol, Carter gravitated toward country music — the Byrds and Dolly Parton — feeling a connection to these stories of poverty and struggle, of determination and self-definition. But the market for a Black, English country singer was nonexistent, and Carter felt her only outlets were with other genres. So she toured with Massive Attack and West London DJ collective Bugz in the Attic before forming a band called Phantom Limb, which released two solid country-rock albums.

Carter spent years building up to a solo career, but the struggle has been worthwhile, if only because it gives her perspective now that everything is speeding up. “I’m not a spring chicken,” she says with a laugh. “Maybe if I was in my late teens, I would be bricking it, as we say in the UK. If you don’t know what you want from a scenario, it’s scary for sure. But I’m not here to date. I’m a marriage kind of artist.”

Orphan Offering is, of course, an extremely important record for you. What did you want to get across to people on your first solo release?

This record was very much like the tip of the iceberg for me. At the time I came up with a collection of songs, I had a small setup — cello and fiddle and acoustic and electric. I was just calling people up to see how the songs would turn out and, when I realized they were going to turn out, I thought I should get some of them down. So these songs were the beginning of a bigger story that’s going to be told over the next two records, one of which I’ve already written and the other I’m almost finished writing. The EP is part of a greater thought. Everything I’m writing is very autobiographical.

But I also want to get across my love of country and Southern soul and the Staple Singers. I understand that country means different things to different people. Some people are more on the bro side of things, and some people think the Byrds are country. That’s the crowd I sit in. Hey, I’m just a Black chick from the UK, but Sweetheart of the Rodeo is a big record for me. I have this conversation with people all the time. They ask me, "How country are you?" And I’m like, "I’m country. Cooouuunnntrryyy." As opposed to the kind of rock music country that we have nowadays. So it’s important for me to express my love for that ‘60s country and that ‘60s gospel, Stax and Muscle Shoals and stuff like that. I think it’s country of an era more than it’s country of a particular place.

Some people in the States wouldn’t consider a lot of that music to be country, but it all definitely comes from the same place and, in some cases, from the same people.

I’ve been having this conversation with myself. Is it through the prism of my blackness that the music becomes something other than country? If I don’t sing it with exactly the same lilt as someone else would, does it then turn back into something else? Are we going to racialize music forever and ever? And, if we are, what do we say about hip-hop when white people do it? What do we call that? We don’t have another name for it. And we shouldn’t have another name for it. Music should be judged by your ears. It is what you think it is. Whatever gets you off.

Have you noticed a difference between UK and U.S. audiences? Do they respond differently to your music?

It’s still the early days with this project and, really, the only tour we did was this Summer. But my experience of that tour in the UK was really great, really well received, and really enthusiastic. I got the same thing when I was in Nashville [for AmericanaFest]. The distinction that I make is that American audiences might be more expressive in one way and British audiences might be expressive in another way. It’s more about language than enthusiasm.

There really is a massive appetite for American music over here, and the entire infrastructure has expanded to compensate for it. You’ve got to understand: We didn’t have an Americana chart or an awards show or radio shows dedicated to playing roots or country or whatever you want to call it. But over the past five years or so, it’s just grown and grown. It’s changed our perception of what we’ve been able to do with the genre in this country, which is encouraging to me because I’ve been trying to peddle it for such a long time. So it’s a really wonderful thing that’s happening over here right now. It’s exciting.

Do you think you could have gotten such an enthusiastic response at an earlier moment?

It’s definitely good timing. The environment has changed for the genre. The infrastructure has changed. That whole process of spending your radio time explaining to people what your genre is, what your connection to it is as a Black woman … that conversation is getting shorter. The upside is that you can move along to actually promoting your record instead of leading a class in American Music 101. People don’t want to feel like they’re going to school when they’re just trying to enjoy themselves and connect with something.

But we still have people with a selective memory, when it comes to the origins of rock 'n' roll or the influence it had on the genesis of country music as it transformed out of mountain music. We’re still having a conversation about Beyoncé and how appropriate that is for the CMAs. That’s not surprising over here, but it does seem like we’re having a lot less of them. So that’s great. And it’s good that we’re talking about it and people are writing about it. It’s important to have that conversation about American music, because it’s a rich, amazing history.

I read that you play fiddle. Are you playing on the EP?

No, I’m not playing on the EP, but I used to play fiddle. My bow hand is still alright. It hasn’t got all heavy and clunky and confused. It’s still good. I can hold a melody. That was me growing up. I got attached to things in bluegrass because of the fiddle. I love double-stop fiddles and I think that was one of my gateway drugs into Americana music — CSN to start with and Neil Young. I was very much on the alt side of things when I came in, and then I slowly centered on Dolly and the Byrds. It was all very piecemeal, which is what you got in this country. It’s like you’re just bumping into things over and over and, every time you bump into something, you get a greater understanding of what it speaks to in you.

As a kid, it was Dolly and the fact that she was a woman writing about her life. That really got me because of my own environment. I wanted to write like her and sing like her. Then I bumped into other people. I had a lot of Gene Clark for a while, just for song structure, and I had my time with Joni [Mitchell] — maybe less than I should have. I started getting into the Dillards and just all the way across American music. The Staple Singers landed about that time, and Mavis is still one of my greatest heroes, musically. Soul Folk in Action changed me. We all know Ray Charles did what he did with that amazing country record, but I needed to hear someone with a similar vocal timbre doing things that I was reaching for. As female singer/songwriters, we need matriarchs sometimes.

Before she passed, my mum told me that she had a Staples' record that she used to play in the house when I was really small. It was the only one of that kind of music she had, so she wouldn’t let me touch it. So I never touched it and never knew it was there until she told she’d had the thing the whole time. Are you kidding me? I‘d been trying to reach for something, but didn’t know what it was. My mum was really into music and had a sizable record collection that was pretty diverse. She used to be a hospital DJ. She was a psychiatric nurse, and she’d play mostly disco, but sometimes soul music for the mentally infirm. That was her job.

Orphan Offering seems to be addressing some aspects of your youth.

“Orphan Country” is very much about me growing up in that seaside town. There’s a show in the UK called Keeping Up Appearances, and the title says everything. It’s about the working class in the UK trying to deny where they’re at and trying to be socially mobile. Where I grew up was very much like that. It was people buying just outside of what they could afford and either keeping their shit together or going into debt. I grew up in that kind of insular environment. There was nothing there. It was a very conservative and pretty racist environment, so music was a real escape and a way to express myself without acting out. “Orphan Country” is about growing up in that place, being from a broken home, being from a place that doesn’t accept you one bit. All the things that are going on now are things that I grew up with.

People are talking about how surprised they are that this is still happening, but it’s not surprising if you grew up with it and lived with it. "Oh surprise, I was really racist." Yeah, we got the memo about 20 years ago. You can pretend you’re not racist, but we’ve got good Spidey sense for that institutional stuff and we know it’s just a matter of time before it rears its ugly head again. It goes in cycles, like ‘70s fashion. "Oh, flares are back? Great!" We won’t talk about these issues for a while, but then people will feel like they can punch a Black person again.

You mentioned that your next two albums will continue the narrative you started on Orphan Offering. It sounds like you’re writing with some very specific themes and stories in mind.

I’m dealing with a lot of personal issues that have been going on in my life, and I’m never going to get all of that onto just one record. These are the things that have been happening in my life and that are happening politically at the moment, which have to do with the perception of race. If you’re a Black woman, people automatically assume that the prefix “strong” can be applied to you, regardless of how you’re feeling at the time. I’m dealing with that. In this solo environment, I have new opportunities to express myself in less general ways than I have in the past. I don’t have to write about everyone. I can be personal. Freedom isn’t something that I’m used to, because I’ve never gone solo before. But I’ve got a lot to stay about these issues and about life, in general, especially coming out of a really awful, awful relationship.

It’s obviously cathartic, but I think it’s essential that I don’t just write in a woe-is-me way all the time. I’m writing to make people aware of situations or to be a mouthpiece for something that happens to my particular demographic or to us in the West on a grander scale. So this little EP — bless it — is the tip of a slightly angry iceberg. I do a little venting, but there’s a lot of hope and love and kindness. And a lot of "What the fuck?!" People always ask me, "What are your themes? What are you working with?" I’m working with "What the fuck?!" A lot of people are working with that sentiment right now. I think it’s appropriate.

I know I’m not going to save the world with a song, but I am going to be able to process things. And that’s enough. People are starting to feel a need for a little bit of protest. Not too much. We need to have fun, too. It can’t all be serious all the time, but I’m going to try to keep the tradition alive that’s been going on since the ‘50s and ‘60s: uptempo music with a happy melody and sad subject matter. There’s a song that will be on the album, I hope, when I find the producer I want. It’s called “Free to Roam,” and you listen to it and you swear it’s the greatest party you’ve ever been to. But then you read the words — it’s not exactly joyful. You have to put a little sugar with the medicine.

It’s the Woody Guthrie approach. You add a little humor and humanity to the anger and the outrage.

That’s the balance I’m after. I wrote about 50 songs. They just appeared out of nowhere in a very short space of time. I had been backed up, creatively, so I had a big old purge. And it hasn’t stopped. My writing process involves a lot of waking up with an idea. I call it lightning bolt writing. It just arrives. I’m just waiting. I’m dousing for it. I’m always trying to get myself into the right headspace for a song to turn up, and I’ve started getting very good at creating a good environment for that process. So I’m hoping that some of the songs are quite immediate, that they really get you. I go to shows and I see people mouthing the words. The band just learned the song, and people are already singing along!

 

For more on the intersection of race and country music, read our Squared Roots interview with Rhiannon Giddens about Dolly Parton.

Photos courtesy of the artist.