Tag: faith

Kieran Kane & Rayna Gellert Let Their Music “Be What It Wants to Be”

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Volume 4 is a beginning and end for Kieran Kane & Rayna Gellert. It’s a beginning in that it’s the duo’s newest release, which means new songs, a new tour cycle, and a new round of interviews. It’s an end – “the end of an era,” as they put it – for Dead Reckoning Records, the label Kane and his bandmates in The Dead Reckoners launched 30 years ago. The independent venture grabbed the attention of other artists whose recordings they released, in addition to The Dead Reckoners’ first and only album, A Night of Reckoning, and the band members’ various other projects.

“Over the 30 years, [The Dead Reckoners] drifted into their own worlds, their own lanes,” says Kane. “Tammy Rogers and the late Mike Henderson started doing The SteelDrivers, Harry Stinson has been with Marty Stuart for years, and Kevin Welch is in Australia. For a long time, I was just putting out my solo records on the label, and then Rayna and I put our records out.

“30 years seemed like a nice, round, anniversary number to give everybody their work back, their masters back, and dissolve the company. It’s been great. I’m quite proud of the work we’ve done over the years and that it’s still a functioning label. We’ve managed to survive all kinds of digital flare-ups and breakthroughs and ways of sharing music. The company makes a little bit of money every year, but it seemed like, ‘Yeah, let’s call it a day.’ I called everyone and everybody was like, ‘That’s fine.’”

Bringing Dead Reckoning Records full circle is sweet rather than bittersweet, says Kane, “in that the label was started by an album of mine [Dead Rekoning, 1995] and thirty years later, on the same date [April 11], we released Volume 4. To me, it serves as bookends for the label.”

Gellert and Kane met at the Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival in San Francisco. Their first collaboration was co-writing for Kane’s Unguarded Moments [2016] and Gellert’s Workin’s Too Hard [2017]. The following year, they released their first duo album, The Ledges, followed by When The Sun Goes Down [2019], and The Flowers That Bloom In Spring [2022]. This year brings Volume 4, which they produced, recorded, and mixed, with Kane on vocals and guitars, Gellert on vocals, guitar, and fiddle, and Kane’s son Lucas on drums.

I thought we’d start by introducing you to readers, but instead of telling us about yourselves, tell us about each other.

Rayna Gellert: Kieran is a multi-instrumentalist and songwriter with a long, awesome career doing all kinds of musical things ever since he was a child. The thing that other musicians immediately say about him is they comment on his sense of groove that seems to be a through line in his musical output. And he’s awesome. He’s the funnest person to write and perform with.

Kieran Kane: Musically, we are so much on the same path, and have been on the same path, for both our individual lines. But out of all the people that I’ve ever worked with, Rayna, in the same way she talks about groove when talking about me, I would have to say the same thing about her, in that it’s just so … I want to say reliable, and that sounds sort of pedestrian, but it is.

It’s like having a drummer and a bass player playing the fiddle, in that the pockets and the grooves are so strong and well established that I can drift away and they’re just there. And it’s all been unusually compatible in writing and playing and performing. We genuinely enjoy doing what we do together. It’s a lot of fun, and it’s creatively fulfilling, and all those things.

Rayna, in an interview with WYSO you mentioned there are differences in your songwriting processes. Could you tell us about those differences and how they work as a duo?

RG: Kieran’s the first person I’ve consistently co-written with. I mostly wrote on my own. I occasionally noodled around with a friend on something, but I had no consistent co-writer. I was very much a newbie to actual co-writing when Kieran and I started writing together.

He approaches songwriting from a completely different angle than I do and that makes it extra fun and adventurous. I’ve always started with some bit of lyric and melody that come at the same time together and I go from there. Kieran usually starts with some kind of instrumental riff that becomes the seed of a structure of something. Lyrics come later for him.

The combination of the way we come at a song is very compatible because it’s different. We bring different strengths to the table. I tend to be super verbose when it comes to lyrics. I spill a lot of stuff out, and he’s a great editor. He is really good at finding the key phrases, figuring out the hook, and creating a structure around that.

My background is in old-time music, so the idea of a long ballad where there’s no chorus and it’s just inspiration that goes on and on and on is totally normal to me. For Kieran, it’s like, “What’s the hook? What’s the chorus? What’s the instrumental riff that’s going to tie the thing together?” And it works together very well.

KK: I agree with that. A lot of times what I’m hearing, along with a song, is a record. So much of what we do is based on an intro, in a way, or, as she said, a little musical hook that’ll tie things down. I’ve almost never sat down with an idea about a song. It’s more like I sit down and start playing banjo or mandolin or guitar until something catches my ear and then a lyric will be a free association to get started.

With us, that’s true to some extent, as well. A lot of times we don’t know what the song is going to be about until we wade into the waters and go, “Oh, it could be this.” It seems to work. Whatever the two different approaches are, it comes together.

How is Volume 4 the next step in your journey? You’ve talked about the songwriting process. When it’s time to record, do the arrangements happen organically?

RG: His view of the song tends to be a little more zoomed out than mine. What he’s saying … he is not just thinking about the song, he’s thinking about the record – I think that’s about arrangement. That’s about, “How are the pieces fitting together here?”
It does evolve organically. We always have to decide, “What’s the instrumentation? What feels right for this? Am I playing guitar? Am I playing fiddle?” If he comes up with a riff on an instrument, usually it stays on that instrument. But we’re working with so few pieces that we make a lot of use of space, because that’s one of the biggest colors in our palette.

KK: A way for us to build things in terms of arrangements often – since, as Rayna said, there’s so few pieces – is to eliminate something, like, “We’ll drop out here, which will bring the song down,” because if we start off with the two of us singing and playing at the same time, there’s no place to go, other than to start removing things.

As I’m saying this, I realize that my mission, if there is such a thing, in writing and making records has always been about removing things, making it simpler, and cutting off all the fat, anything that’s unnecessary.

RG: One of the things that’s different about this project is, in a way, we approached the whole album sort of like we would approach a song, as in letting it be what it wanted to be.

On past albums, we approached it more like we were writing a set list for a show, where it’s, “Have we included different instrumentation? Do we have a balance of lead singers? Do we have uptempo and downtempo?” This album is structured more like the way we write a song, which is, “What does this want to be?” Regardless of instrumentation, regardless of who’s singing, regardless of whether we wrote the songs. It evolved into this little sonic package that feels like you go in there and it’s a room you hang out in for the length of the album. To me, that’s a different experience than our past records.

KK: I’ve never thought of it like that. Yeah. We’ve been writing a lot. We wrote three albums, I did an EP that we had written a couple of songs for, and Rayna did an EP that I helped out on a couple of songs and produced. So we’ve done a lot of work in the last eight years, or however it is, that we’ve been doing this. Before Volume 4, there were three albums and two EPs, which is a lot more work than I’ve ever done in that amount of time.

This record, to me, was a little bit more of a grab-back in a way. Rayna was talking about wanting to do a fiddle album at some point and I was like, “Let’s play more fiddle tunes.” So we did that and pulled some older songs that were, as Rayna was saying, “Let’s just do it.” In my mind, it’s almost cleansing in a way to have taken this “just let it be what it wants to be” approach. Now we can move on to something else … and I don’t know what that is.

Tell us about the recording process and gear choices on this album.

RG: We have a very simple home recording setup that we’ve refined over the years. We got some good mics that we like a lot a couple years ago, Soyuz mics. We use those for everything, for instruments and vocals, the same mics. We have four of those.
We have a Zoom R16 board that we can either record directly onto or use as an input into Logic for recording. It’s a very mobile rig. We spend our summers in the Adirondacks at a cabin and we do a lot of recording when we’re up there. Some of this album was recorded there and some of it was recorded here in Nashville, in our house. We can take the board with us and do a nice, clean, digital field recording.

KK: It’s a wonderful piece of gear and shockingly inexpensive. As far as instruments and things like that, this record is a departure for me in terms of guitars, because I’ve basically used the same Guild M-20 on every record and every show I’ve done with Rayna, and before that for the last twenty-five years. For some reason, on this record, I picked up a couple of different guitars that I’ve had lying around the house for years. It was like, “Let me try this song on this guitar. Oh, that’s fun.” Whether or not I would do that again, I don’t know, because the guitar I’ve used all those years I love and it’s so reliable.

There’s three different acoustic guitars for me on this record. One is a Martin 00-16 classic, an early-’60s gut-string guitar that I played on “Keep My Heart in Mind.” The other is an early-’60s D-28 that I played on “The Mansion Above.” The other guitar songs are all on the Guild M-20. Rayna played the same guitar that she’s been using, an early D-28.

Last year, I was listening to a lot of ’60s folk music. I was listening to Gordon Lightfoot, Ian & Sylvia, Bob Dylan, and things like that, and hearing these really simple guitars where there’s no real guitar solos or anything like that. “I Can’t Wait” fits into that mold – as does “Keep My Heart in Mind,” and “Imagine That” – in that there’s no solos, but there’s a repetitive musical vein that goes through it all. It’s just two people playing guitars and singing. It’s that simple, which is something that really appeals to me.

Is it accurate to say there’s a connecting thread of faith in some of these songs?

KK: Yeah, I think that maybe is a thread through it.

RG: Not from that specific angle, but we definitely talked about hoping that people, in listening to the album, felt comforted.

KK: “I Can’t Wait,” to me, is very much is about faith – not in a religious way, but in a general sense of hope. As bad as things are right now, I remain hopeful and I keep looking towards the light. I’m aware of the dark, profoundly aware of the dark, but I don’t think that’s the end. I think there’s light as well and there’ll be more light as time goes by.

There are a couple of songs, specifically “Whatcha Gonna Do About It” and “Short Con,” that people could easily interpret as political – and they are. There’s no doubt about that. “Short Con” we look at as written from the standpoint of the Constitution. It’s like, “Why don’t you believe in me now?” There are other songs we have that certainly people have told us, “We’re not interested in your political views.” There’s a few floating around that just turn out … it’s not like we sit down and try and write about politics, or faith, for that matter. It’s just where our mental space is at the time.

You can look at these new songs as being political, but we’ve started thinking about them as being patriotic. It’s patriotic to stand up and say, “No, you can’t do that. You can’t just pull someone out of their car and throw them in a jail in El Salvador or whatever.” That’s not a political statement to me and I think for us at this point, as much as it is a patriotic statement, it’s our duty as citizens to say something. We’re given that right and we’re taking advantage of it.

And then something like “The Mansion Above,” which I wrote fifty years ago, somehow fits in there. There is a thread between those songs. So yeah, I think to see a line through of faith is good.

You’ve mentioned before that you’re doing what you call “three-day-weekend touring.” What are your upcoming “weekend” plans?

RG: Our approach to touring is very chill. We do two or three dates in a row, sometimes just one-offs. That’s our usual mode. I think the most we’ve ever done in a row is four dates. It’s all compact and it’s all about being humane and kind to ourselves.

KK: We have a good time. We have a comfortable car, I do all the driving and Rayna does all the navigating and mans the phone. I like to get onstage and play, but I don’t think either one of us wants to go, “Let’s book a month.” I look at other people’s schedules sometimes and go, “I remember doing things like that,” but I wouldn’t want to do it again.

We are gentle on ourselves. Our performances– we’ve cut that down in the sense that we don’t use any monitors onstage. We sit as close as humanly possible together and still be able to move the instruments around. Sound people really like us because sound people hate monitors. You say, “No monitors,” they rejoice. Doing it that way, if a soundcheck takes more than 15 minutes, we’re in trouble. Two instrument mics, two vocal mics, no monitors. “Can you hear us? Great. We’re done.” It makes life simpler.

RG: So yes, we do have gigs. There’s some stuff for the summer that will be posted on our website and I’m working on fall right now.

KK: And we are open to offers.

RG: Yes, we’re always happy to hear from venues!

Photo courtesy of the artist.

MIXTAPE: Flamy Grant’s Songs for Healing Gay Religious Trauma

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Welcome to the playlist you probably didn’t have on your bingo card this year: a series of songs spanning from gospel music to ’90s folk to contemporary singer-songwriters, all curated by a drag queen with a number one Christian album under her belt. I’m Flamy Grant, and I’m honored that BGS invited me to share the songs that healed my very gay, very religious trauma.

My first record was called Bible Belt Baby, so I know a thing or two about growing up in the shadow of a religious fervor that wants boys to be boys, girls to be girls, and gays to keep it in the closet. Here are a few of the songs that helped me not only to come out, but to let this little light of mine keep shining in the faces of a lot of people who’d prefer it were hidden under a bushel. Not today, gatekeepers. Not today. – Flamy Grant

“If You Ever Leave” – Flamy Grant

Oh, hello darling. I’m a drag queen with wares to sell. Of course I’m starting off this playlist with my new single! It is, at least, very much on topic. This ballad from my forthcoming record, CHURCH, pretty much speaks for itself, but I will offer this one, brief, supplemental thought: if there’s a God demanding your worship, but as you get to know him you discover that you are capable of loving people better and more completely than he is… don’t worship that God. Girl… it’s a trap.

“Undamned” – Over the Rhine

Outside of Amy Grant, no artist has had as much of an impact on me as Ohio-based duo Over the Rhine. Karin and Linford have saved my life ten times over. “I’m not your little lost lamb, God might still get my world undamned.” This song somehow manages to be both defiant (personally, my favorite posture) and repentant. Brazenly owning your apostasy while unabashedly surrendering to a cosmic, supernatural love at the same time? Slay. (Bonus: Lucinda Williams delivers an absolutely divine featured vocal. Undamn me anyday, Over the Rhine.)

“Wrap My Arms Around Your Name” – Sarah Masen

When I was growing up, I was only allowed to listen to Christian music. Sarah Masen was always a bit of a square peg in a round Christian music industry hole, and one of the first songwriters I encountered who addressed the conflict, doubt, and dissonance inherent to the faith everyone else around her was putting such a sheen on.

From the first line, “Mystery’s walking on my head again,” I was hooked on this song about yearning to feel deeply spiritually connected. “Does hallelujah wear the same old face?” Excellent existential question, Sarah. Thanks for giving my teenage angst a place to freely ask it.

“Amy’s Song” – Matt Simons

Back in 2018, I was a worship leader for a queer-affirming church in San Diego and we decided for Pride month that year that we would put on a worship service that was 100% produced, led, and delivered by our queer members. I even wanted to make sure every song we sang had been written (or co-written, in this case) by a card-carrying member of the alphabet mafia. I found “Amy’s Song” and loved the music and the message: “Does your God really give a damn” about who I love?

The twist for me was in discovering that one of the song’s co-writers, and its namesake, Ames, and I had played a show together years before in when we were both closeted and going by different stage names. I led “Amy’s Song” at our church that Sunday and Ames and I have since reconnected online. We’ve even been talking about writing something together one of these days. “Amy’s Song 2: The Ballad of Flamy,” perhaps? (Pro tip: after you listen, go watch the music video and making-of mini-doc, both on Matt Simons’ YouTube page. Bring Kleenex.)

“breathe again” – Joy Oladokun

Honestly, it was hard to pick just one song from Joy Oladokun’s extensive repertoire of musical remedies for the religiously wronged. She is both plainspoken and poignant, capturing the heartbreak so many queer people experience when we grow up in families and cultures that suffocate us in a shame-inducing, manipulative desecration of divine love. Joy’s voice in this song just melts me, and it’s a breath of fresh air for the closeted kid I used to be when she uses it to sing, “If I hold my breath until I’m honest, will I ever breathe again?”

“Someday You’ll Wake Up Okay” – Spencer LaJoye

This is inner child work of the highest order and nobody translates the specific into the universal with such clarity as my friend Spencer. “You won’t hear me, but I’ll think it from the future.” Oof. Also, who knew healing your inner child could be such a bop?

“Holy Sunlight” – Steven Delopoulos

Something about the music of Stephen Delopoulos, who fronted the ’90s Christian band Burlap to Cashmere, just feels reverent. It’s like high-church Paul Simon. This song reminds me that even when we’re leaving, we’re really not. “Pack my luggage, fake a smile/ Don’t cry, we’re all connected like the ocean sea.”

“Faith” – Semler

No one is more emblematic of a reckoning for the Christian music industry to me than my pal Semler, who was the first out queer artist to have a number one Christian record a couple years back. In “Faith,” they are eye-level with the abusers of power in the church they’re confronting. “Don’t pretend I’m not your body.” GOOSEBUMPS, HUN. And it’s a song that somehow doubles as a powerful worship anthem of sorts for the disenfranchised? We’re here, we’re queer, and we still have faith, dear. I live.

“Shiloh” – Audrey Assad

I had stopped listening to CCM by the time Audrey got her record deal with juggernaut Christian label Sparrow Records back in 2010, so I missed most of her early career. But during the pandemic, I learned about this (wildly-talented) artist that Christian media outlets were criticizing for “backsliding.” Don’t tempt me with a good time, I said. Audrey and I have become friendly on social media since then, and she’s so much more than a good time. She’s a healer. This song in particular patches up a new part of me every time I hear it. God bless the ones who leave the church but never stop providing care for souls.

“The Way You Get Found” – Story & Tune

I’m proud to say I was the first person to ever hear this excellent song, in the basement of the San Diego house I shared during pandemic with its writers, Karyn and Ben. The line that got me then still gets me today: “I bless the way you carve your name on the gate-kept inner sanctums where they said you couldn’t stay.” Absolute pros, these two, crafting an artful turn of phrase that not only perfectly fits the demanding cadence of the song, but delivers a well-placed gut punch to folks who know what it’s like to stand up to religious bullies when they say we can’t be on their playground.

“Jacob from the Bible” – Jake Wesley Rogers

This song came through my Spotify algorithm one day and stopped me in my tracks. Of course, now Jake is a world famous colorful crooner and besties with Elton John, etc., but when this song came out, I was able to reach him online and successfully petitioned him to be on my podcast. You can still listen to that conversation. We talk about this song, where it came from, what it meant to each of us, and why Jake should definitely be our first gay president. For me, it feels like a life-giving extraction from all the oppressive weight of religious expectation. “I don’t want to be held down by a heavenly man.” Makes me think of Jacob from the Bible when he defeated the angel in an all night wrestling match. (Hot!) And honey, wrestling with God? Relatable.

“Testify to Love” – Wynonna

Okay, this might be the only bonafide CCM hit in the mix. It was originally recorded by Christian supergroup Avalon and if you were anywhere near Christianity in 1997/98, this song is In. Your. Bones. Every once in a while when I’m playing to an audience of a certain age — the ones who were in youth group about the same time as me — I’ll bust this out as a cover during my set and, well, let’s just say it’s so cute to watch half the room have a dramatic That’s So Raven-style flashback. But I propose to you that at the end of the day, it’s a gay song. I mean, the opening lyric is, “All the colors of the rainbow!” It’s all about how love wins!

What really seals the deal is Wynonna Judd’s countrified cover of the song from a very special episode of Touched by an Angel. I dare you to listen and not agree that Christianity peaked in 1997 and we should frankly just ignore everything that’s come out of evangelicalism since this song ruled the airwaves.

“House of Spirits” – Allman Brown

London-based singer-songwriter Allman Brown taps right into all of our generational trauma and father wounds with this achingly gorgeous spiritual about how it feels to sit vigil by the deathbed of a parent who “damned my soul to the fires.” As someone with a damaged and deeply strained relationship with an ultra-religious father who’s still alive, this song gives me a glimpse into the journey ahead, and I find myself praying along with Allman that one day that house of spirits “will feel like home.”

“What You Heard” – Amy Grant

An Amy Grant song on this list was inevitable, but far less likely is a song from a parent who learned better communication skills by going to family therapy with her kids. But that’s exactly what we have in this, the first new song from the Queen of Christian Pop in a decade. I saw Amy perform it last year and she told the story of how group therapy with her family helped her understand that some of the ways she thought she was communicating love to her kids weren’t exactly landing that way on their ears. It’s the kind of thing most survivors of religious trauma can only dream of: a God-fearing parent gaining perspective later in life and using therapy tools to change behavior? A better relationship through effective communication? May we all be so fortunate. But even if we’re not, my favorite diva (she would never call herself that, so someone has to) has gifted us with this beautifully-written song that shows it’s possible. Amy and amen.

“May I Suggest” – Susan Werner

I’ll leave you with the best benediction that’s ever been spoken (sung) over me. I wish someone had invited me to the Susan Werner party years ago, so I’m making it my mission to bring as many plus-ones as possible now that I’m here. Actually, in a way, I’ve been here since high school, I just didn’t know it. The first time I heard this song was as a cover by Ellis Paul and Vance Gilbert back in the late ’90s, but I just assumed it was theirs. Then about a year ago, a friend sent me a track by Susan called “Our Father,” in which she expertly/hilariously reimagines the Lord’s Prayer (“Deliver us from those who think they’re you”). I was hooked and started working my way through her catalog, but it wasn’t until I saw her live at the Kerrville Folk Festival earlier this year that I learned she was the composer of this song I loved when I was 17.

When she sat down at a baby grand and soulfully set out to convince a field full of festival-goers that “this is the best part of your life,” I openly wept. It’s tempting after you escape from oppressive, high-demand religion to fall into the trap of regret for a lost youth and years of missed chances. Susan invites us to consider the other side of that coin: thanks to the trauma you’ve survived, “Inside you know what’s yours to finally set right.” The next time Susan is anywhere near you, drag yourself (yes I said DRAG) and everyone you love to the show — and hope that she sings this benediction over you, too.

Photo Credit: Sydney Valiente

BGS 5+5: The Hillbilly Thomists

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Artist: The Hillbilly Thomists
Hometown: We are originally all from Washington, D.C., where we formed, though as priests we are now assigned in many different areas, mostly on the East Coast.
Latest Album: Marigold

What other art forms – literature, film, dance, painting, etc. – inform your music?

Our band name is taken from a letter of the Southern Gothic artist, Flannery O’Connor, in which she says that some readers think that she is a Hillbilly nihilist, whereas in fact she is a Hillbilly Thomist. A “Thomist” is a follower of the thought of St. Thomas Aquinas, who was a Dominican priest. We are members of the same religious order and play folk and bluegrass music so the name seemed perfect. Flannery kept peacocks in her garden, as they are a medieval symbol of the resurrection, so that is the band symbol.

What rituals do you have, either in the studio or before a show?

Actually, since we are members of a Catholic religious order, we have a lot of rituals. It’s an ordinary part of our life already to pray the psalms together, say mass together, and of course we keep that up when we are doing our music. It can also be important for some of the fans, many of whom like this Catholic bluegrass vibe, but many of our fans are not Catholic, and appreciate the fact that we wear monastic habits, including on stage. The lyrics of our songs can be humorous or serious, but often have a kind of reference to religious takes on life. We did not really plan this as a strategy, but just started composing music out of interest or as a serious hobby and it has been popular with others.

Genre is dead (long live genre!), but how would you describe the genres and styles your music inhabits?

The band has a lot of styles and definitely assimilates different genres: folk, Americana, bluegrass, country, blues, gospel, and old-time material. Several different members of the band write songs, different in style, and we almost all sing, with pretty complex harmonies at times. Influences include Bill Monroe, Johnny Cash, The Byrds, Ricky Skaggs, Gillian Welch, but each of these more according to the spirit than the letter.

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

We agree on the value of reggae and jazz and during breaks the band sometimes plays Bob Marley for amusement.

If you didn’t work in music, what would you do instead?

We actually all have full time jobs, mostly as priests teaching or working in campus ministries. We record the albums and tour in the summer during downtimes.

Photo Credit: Paul Padgett

Katie Pruitt on ‘Mantras’ and Letting Go of Control

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Knowing how 2020 and the years that followed would unfold, the dynamism of Katie Pruitt‘s debut record is even more awe-inspiring. Expectations introduced the Nashville-via-Georgia singer-songwriter alongside her deepest aches and most intimate struggles as an openly queer individual raised as part of a devout Roman Catholic family in the conservative South. It would go on to earn a GRAMMY-nomination and ample praise for her lyricism, empowered performances, arranging, and instinct for production. In short, it’s undeniable that Pruitt set quite the high bar of expectations for herself and the music she would choose to share next.

Four years later, Pruitt has unveiled Mantras. While flashes of brilliance from a familiar autobiographical lens inform and inspire the 11 track recording, these aren’t simply more straightforward, memoir-style anecdotes. The truths and experiences Pruitt shares on Mantras feel more revealing than Expectations, as this time, Pruitt’s lens looks decidedly more inward at what she has lived through, reflected on, and learned from since writing her last album.

Not only is Mantras‘ thought process largely internal in nature, but each song leads to paths, stories, and developments that have yet to be fully resolved – if ever they will. The album showcases a great deal of inspiring perseverance in the self-contained conclusions of songs like “Self-Sabotage” and “Worst Case Scenario” and more generally, it unveils a journey of self-healing from start to finish.

However, while Mantras ultimately provides reassurance, peace, and closure, the takeaway isn’t meant to be one of permanent resolution or rigid perspective around anything Pruitt has seemingly conquered in each song. Like the recapitulating nature of a mantra, she is mindful of being continuously attentive and compassionate towards her inner struggles, rather than seeing them as singular moments of adversity.

Speaking with her by phone, BGS shared an insightful conversation with Pruitt about how her focus on inner-healing shaped the sound of Mantras, how her perspective around disagreement and connection has changed, how she cultivates inner strength, and much more.

How was it navigating the presence of expectations for Mantras, considering your intent to move away from a focus on external validation?

Katie Pruitt: On the first album, I was dodging different expectations, you know? I was dodging expectations of my parents or of how people in my hometown saw me and who I am now. I sort of accidentally set high expectations for this next record. I felt like I was competing against myself in a lot of ways and I really had to find moments to just surrender, come back to center, and just focus on the fun feeling in the present moment and talk about that, instead talking about things that I think people want me to say. I needed to focus on what I needed to say, which is maybe different than what other people expected or wanted to hear on this album.

Knowing this album is an expression of personal growth and a journey of sorts for you, what does it feel like to just now be talking about these songs after holding onto them for so long?

Coincidentally, I feel like everything on Mantras is lining up with my life as it’s coming out.

With me talking about my parents selling my childhood home [in “Naive Again”], yeah, my parents are selling my childhood home as we speak. And when I finished a lot of the songs about my partner slowly checking out and leaving, maybe a week after I turned in the record, we broke up. So I’m still experiencing a lot of these things in my life. It’s kind of a first for me, because when Expectations came out, I had kind of already patched things up with my parents and there were things in my personal life were kind of resolved. But then I was having to dive back into those issues every day on stage or whenever I sang those songs. This is different, honestly. It kind of feels good to be able to deal with what’s going on in my life with the songs in real time.

You’ve talked about building “the tracks from the ground up as opposed to cutting everything live, which gave so much more room to let the songs evolve and become what they needed to be.” What does that mean for you and what did those moments of full realization for the music feel like for you, and producers Collin Pastore and Jake Finch?

Jake and Collin’s workflow is very quick. And that was a challenge for me, but I felt like we challenged each other in the right ways. They move very fast and I was like, “Wait a second. Let’s take a look at this. Let’s sit with it for a second and make sure we like it.”

I think having the option [to record parts individually] instead of having all this pressure to be in the studio with a full band and having everyone play the right parts at the right time, was nice for us – to just build one part at a time and ask ourselves, “Is this correct? Does this fit?” And if it doesn’t, we’d say, “We can always mute it.” … There’s not necessarily a wrong answer. We’re just trying to evoke a feeling and if we feel it then other people will too.

What brought you together with Christian Wiman’s work, ultimately inspiring you to writing the album title track?

I was listening to this poetry podcast, [Poetry Unbound], I was really into that during the pandemic and that was obviously a tough time for a lot of people, [creating] a lot of points of contention, especially around beliefs and belief systems. I just felt like, my parents believe different things than me and my friends started to believe different things than me. So that poem, [“All My Friends,”] just really resonated as this “A-ha!” moment.

At the very end of the poem [Wiman] says something like, “My beautiful, credible friends.” In the first part of the poem, you almost feel like he isn’t mocking them, but like, he’s kind of poking fun at how many rabbit holes there are to go down, as far as spirituality goes or, finding yourself goes. Then at the end, he’s like, “And all of them are credible, all of them are valid.” And that really struck a chord for me and I just think that’s a really powerful statement.

Given the open and accepting mindset you impart through “All My Friends” and its juxtaposition with the piercing, personal insights you share in “White Lies, White Jesus, and You,” where would you say religion, particularly Christianity and Catholicism, exists for you now, compared to when you were writing Expectations?

I really try to make clear to my parents or to some of my friends who are still Christian, that [the song] is talking about people who take the Bible and abuse it for their own benefit – whether that be political or just to justify shitty behavior on their end, like saying, “Oh, well, it says that gay people aren’t allowed in heaven. So I’m allowed to say this.”

That’s the part of [Christianity] that really turns me off to it in general. And that’s a shame, because the dude in the Bible, Jesus, the version that I have kind of come to discover as I’ve gotten older, is a pretty progressive dude. And I don’t mean that in the political sense. I mean, in the sense of he’s accepting of everyone no matter what their background is. Like, Jesus himself never says anything about gay people. He’s friends with kind of some sketchy characters if you were going to look at it through a lens of today. So that’s the Jesus that I wish I were taught more about when I was growing up. I think “White Lies, White Jesus and You” was a way for me to process the [version of] Jesus that I have experienced as a closeted gay kid and how the ways that version hurt me and put that in the past and put that behind me.

In what way would you say your journey of self-healing helped you to stop seeing religion as having the power to dictate your worth?

I let go of religion dictating my self-worth a while ago. But then I let other things [take its place]. I used to seek external validation from the church or from my parents or from older mentors in my life. I let that go as I became a young adult and then I started giving other things power to do that. Like success and relationships. I let those things dictate my worth. But then I started delving into the power that intrinsic happiness has.

We really fully don’t have control over what happens in our life. We have some control, but very little. And if your worth can come from within, then those moving parts of life have less control over you or less effect on you … once I learned that, I was able to focus more heavily on, “Let’s have this voice in my head be kind and then I can go from there.” Just me practicing being kind to myself first kind of put this armor up around me and it helps me navigate the world.

What’s changed about your songwriting process since you’ve taken on more personal strength and inner compassion?

For a long time, when my inner voice was more critical and cutthroat and editorial, I couldn’t really write. I wasn’t able to get the thoughts just out of my head and onto the paper, which is the first step you know? Then you have something to work from when you’re able to just say what you feel. But I was just so scared to write a bad song that I wouldn’t write anything. And I think that’s the worst mistake you can make. There’s no harm in writing a bad song.

I think that it’s just about setting the bar, taking a chill pill and [remembering], “Oh yeah, songwriting is fun, songwriting should be fun.” It should be a way for me to get an outlet, a way for me to get this out of my head and look at it. So removing the critical voice is huge. And that was connected to therapy and to me slowly learning how to be kind to myself and slowly learning how to just enjoy writing songs again.

Where, with whom, or in what, do you find your hope and strength to persevere when life feels overwhelming or your inner reserves are running low?

The past or other people’s experiences really help me. I read a lot of Patti Smith and sometimes I’ll just open to a random page and it’ll be the piece of advice that I needed. So definitely words and art and poetry. Another thing would be when I’m feeling, “Okay, all hope is lost,” I have this urge to just run to nature and I just go to the mountains or go sit by a river for a long amount of time and think and meditate and try to put my problems and my fears and everything into perspective. I think, “Well, I’m on this planet right now and I’m sitting by a river. How cool is that?” Just kind of zooming out and not zooming in so closely – that helps me. And like, just good friends and just laughing and having buddies that you know you have a drink with or dinner with and just fuckin’ laughing about the crazy things that have gone wrong. Like, laughter is huge. I know it’s like, “Oh, laughter is medicine,” but it literally is.

Photo Credit: Alysse Gafkjen

STREAM: Victoria Bailey, ‘A Cowgirl Rides On’

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Artist: Victoria Bailey
Hometown: Orange County, California
Album: A Cowgirl Rides On
Release Date: October 6, 2023
Label: Rock Ridge Music

In Their Words: “A Cowgirl Rides On is my most vulnerable and honest piece to date. I am so proud of this record and of everyone who brought it to life. It started with a few heartbreak songs and a few gospel songs and it turned into an intertwined piece of those two things exactly: An unexpected breakup and what I grasped onto to get me through, my faith and the Gospel. I wanted this record to feel as raw as the songs felt to write, so we went into the studio and recorded live with a string band, all in one room together, and everyone poured a lot of love into each recording. You can hear it so clearly listening to the record. It’s perfect-imperfections, and just some good ol’ classic country storytelling. I can‘t even envision this project coming to life without my good friend and producer of the record, Brian Whelan (also a co-writer on a few of the tracks). I hope this record takes listeners to a good–feeling place – some sort of western, bluegrass dream – and brings them comfort even in the slightest way. Enjoy.” – Victoria Bailey

Photo Credit: Stefanie Lee Johnson

WATCH: Mark & Maggie O’Connor, “All We Will Be”

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Artist: Mark & Maggie O’Connor
Hometown: Charlotte, North Carolina
Song: “All We Will Be”
Release Date: September 30, 2023
Label: ONErpm/OMAC Records

In Their Words: “‘All We Will Be’ is one of our new vocal songs where we reach for a more contemplative place in words and music. There is such mystery and intrigue with the lyrics, by my co-writer Joe Henry, and the story-telling vocal performance by Maggie, that it was interesting for me to create an expanded instrumental soundscape for it. The musical qualities move from plaintive Americana guitar strums to a jazz-rock acoustic fusion crescendo that showcases Maggie’s majestic violin solo. The powerful and intuitive bass and drums on this song – by Dennis Crouch and John Gardner – help to elevate this idea. Our journey here is about testing faith and rediscovering it through love and music.

“In scouting locations for the music video, it was Maggie that suggested the piece be filmed adjacent to the stillness and reflection of our North Carolina lake. On the day of filming, it poured down during the day leaving us a sense of renewal in the forest when things cleared off to do the shoot. The storm also left a painting in the sky — one of those colorful Southern sunsets over the water that had us dancing to the music for the video on the shoreline. I had my 1865 Martin out there on the edge of the swampy part of the lake conveying timelessness through the bending of the strings like ripples in the water. With inspiration from the lyric, ‘Back into trees, like all that we are,’ the low setting sun gave us the shadow effect essential to combine Maggie’s violin and my viola that accompanies her, returning us into the roots of trees on the forest floor. It was joyful to create this video with my wife Maggie, and even more so to have my son Forrest handling the great camera work and the directing of our music video.” – Mark O’Connor

Track Credits: Written by Joe Henry and Mark O’Connor

Maggie O’Connor – vocals, violin, cello
Mark O’Connor – vocals, guitar, mandolin, mandocello, violin, viola
Dennis Crouch – upright bass
John Gardner – drums
Tracking Engineer – Neal Cappellino
Overdubs and Mixing Engineer – Mark O’Connor
Mastering Engineer – Dave Harris at Studio B Mastering, Charlotte, NC
Recorded at Sound Emporium Studio A, Nashville, TN
Overdubs at Hometone Studio

Photo Credit: David Hume Kennerly
Video Credit: Filmed and directed by Forrest O’Connor

MIXTAPE: A Little Bit Gospel, A Little Bit Bluegrass, and Everything in Between

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

My sophomore album, A Cowgirl Rides On, set to be released October 20, 2023, is a true reflection of my heart and what keeps me going – bluegrass, gospel, western, Jesus, horses, love, and even a little bit of heartache. The songs written for the record were hugely inspired by the songs I included on this playlist. All of these artists and songs are ones I hold near and dear and have moved me in some big way.

I became strong in my faith as a Christian in my early 20s, which is around the same time I began performing and writing a ton. Being introduced to gospel and bluegrass had a big impact on me, and it continues to deeply connect me to my faith.

It’s been a long–time dream to release a record that feels a little bit bluegrass, a little bit gospel, and everything in between. Here are the songs that guided me there. I hope you find so much joy in them and that they become the soundtrack to your long drives, or to enjoy over your Sunday pancakes, or during the times you just need a little light. – Victoria Bailey

 “Waiting At the Gate” – Ricky Skaggs & Kentucky Thunder

This song is one of my all–time favorites. This whole album, Soldier of the Cross, is pure gospel gold. I actually cover this song on my upcoming record, and it was one of the most fun songs for us to record in the studio. Ricky Skaggs is just simply the best.

“Wayfaring Stranger” – Emmylou Harris

This Emmylou Harris album is really the pinpoint of when I fell in love with country music. Many have covered this classic song, but Emmylou’s version of “Wayfaring Stranger“ is my favorite by far. Her voice and the tone of this song are so haunting and beautiful… nothing compares. 

“The Seeker”– Dolly Parton

Oh, Dolly… what would a playlist be without her? Dolly is undeniably the best and has inspired me in so many ways, but especially her love for Jesus and how she ties in a little bit of the gospel to most of her records. This song really gets me moving and grooving around my house. 

“I Just Want to Thank You Lord” – Marshall Family

These harmonies are so good, and they really inspired how I wanted the harmonies to sound on my own record. I also wanted it to feel just as timeless and simple as this song by the Marshall Family. This song ends up being on most of my roadtrip playlists. 

“The Fields Have Turned Brown” – Ralph Stanley

Ralph Stanley is a huge inspiration to me and such an important figure in bluegrass music and in the banjo world. The banjo is one of my all–time favorite sounds, and I included a lot of it on my new record. It just takes you to a good place. 

“Wild and Blue” – Alan Jackson

I turn to this album quite often. What a combo! Alan Jackson and bluegrass/gospel. It’s just so good. 

“Snake Trails” – Victoria Bailey

This is by far my favorite song on the record. It is a gospel song I wrote while riding my horse, Weasley, through the canyon one day. It brings me back to that place every time I sing it. It was one of the first written for the project and really sets a tone for the rest of the record. It was inspired by my horse and finding peace and connection to my faith being out on the trails. 

“I Must See Jesus” – Snooks Eaglin

This song always gives me the same feeling as when you just finished a really good movie. My whole heart swells, and it brings me to a really special, peaceful place. His voice is incredible, and you can hear all the passion and honesty and faith in his delivery. 

“End of the Line” – Moonsville Collective

These guys are like family to me and have inspired me endlessly over the years, watching them play and the way they are beautifully representing bluegrass/Americana music. This song, written by Corey Adams, is one that has always hit home hard for me at many times in my life. It is truly one of my favorite songs ever written, and it was an honor that I actually got to cover this song on my upcoming record. 

“I’ll Fly Away” – Gillian Welch, Allison Krauss

When my producer, Brian Whelan, and I sat down to talk about making this record, we referenced the O Brother, Where Art Thou? soundtrack often. Not only is this movie legendary, so are all of the musical performers on the soundtrack. We loved the style of the recordings. Live, all in one room together, where you can hear all the cracks and the love, and it‘s exactly what we tried to emulate for my own record. Recording live was such a special part of making A Cowgirl Rides On.

“Where the Soul of Man Never Dies” – Ricky Skaggs & Tony Rice

Doesn’t get much better than this duet. This is often a Sunday soundtrack for me. 

“Long Journey Home” – Billy Strings & Terry Barber

Billy Strings is such an amazing representation of modern bluegrass. His sound is timeless, and his guitar playing and songwriting match up to some of my bluegrass heroes. I’ve always loved this song, and he covers it so well. 

“Angel Band” – The Stanley Brothers

This song just always pops in my head any time I hear the word bluegrass. It is so classic and pure, and the harmonies pull on all the heartstrings. 

“Just Like Leaving” – Bella White

I have been a longtime Bella White fan, and she is such an important female artist in keeping the bluegrass sound alive. The rest of the record is incredible as well. 

“Green Green Grass of Home” – Merle Haggard

You can’t have a playlist without Merle. This song always brings me to tears and really is a beautiful representation of Merle’s songwriting and voice. 

Photo Credit: Stefanie Lee Johnson

Chris Thile Takes Us to Church in Official Music Video for “Laysong”

Posted on by Editor

For a musician who has seemingly done it all and has the awards to prove it, Chris Thile found an excellent opportunity to create a solo record in the throes of the early pandemic. The project of that period of introspection and seclusion is one that has been, in some ways, a long time in the making, as his label Nonesuch had been hinting for some time to make an album centered around faith and spirituality. When the circumstance arose, Thile decided it should be done in as honest and straightforward a manner as possible: performed entirely by himself and recorded within the walls of a beautiful old church in upstate New York.

Titled Laysongs, the album offers a host of incredible performances, including compelling arrangements of Bartok and Bach, re-imaginings of traditional folk tunes, and original pieces inspired by literature. Enjoy this video of Chris Thile, our BGS Artist of the Month for June, performing the album’s title track in the church where it was recorded. And, check out Part 1 and Part 2 of our exclusive, AOTM interview.

Photo credit: Josh Goleman

For Chris Thile, Instrumental Music Excels in the Cracks of Language (2 of 2)

Posted on by Editor

Chris Thile has always woven religious references into his songwriting, but never so much as on Laysongs. Recorded in solitude in an old church with just a mandolin and a sound engineer, the new album offers lyrics that question our impulses and references that span the Bible (“Ecclesiastes”), Hungarian composers (a take on Bartok’s “Sonata for Solo Violin, Sz. 117: IV. Presto”), and bluegrass legends (a cover of Hazel Dickens’ “Won’t You Come and Sing for Me”) in service of a higher truth.

Here, in the second installment of a two-part interview, BGS catches up with Thile about co-producing an album with his wife, finding inspiration in good wine, and why great instrumental music should emulate a warm dinner conversation.

Read the first half of the BGS Artist of the Month interview with Chris Thile here.

BGS: Your wife, [actress Claire Coffee], co-produced this album with you. What did that lend to the final product, and how did it influence the process?

Thile: Pretty much since we met, she’s graciously been my unofficial editor. It was high time to just formalize that. [Laughs] When you’re doing something like this — a pure solo record, no overdubs, absolutely nothing between me and your ears — it really helps to have someone involved who is absolutely 100 percent unimpressed with you. She has heard every one of my tricks and can see straight through them, can hear straight through them.

As an actor and someone who’s made a lot of film and television, Claire cuts straight to the chase: “Is this meaning something? Does one and one equal two here? Are we starting somewhere and ending somewhere — and how is the ride between those two points? Are we engaged? Is this clear enough, and does it ever get too painfully clear? Are we leading the witness, are we telling people the punchline before we give them the setup?” I can really gild the lily when left to my own devices. Musically, I can sort of be the guy in the theatre, like, elbowing you — like I’ve seen it six times and I’m like, oh, you’re going to love this part! And so Claire, I think, is so good at being like, “Hey. Don’t do that.” [Laughs]

And perhaps, also, letting you know when it’s warranted.

Right. Sometimes I won’t pull the trigger on what would be a really interesting decision because I’m worried that I’m just swinging too hard. I sort of gingerly put the idea of doing the fourth movement of Bartok solo violin sonata. Thinking, well, this is kind of a bridge too far. I sent it to Claire like, “What if I learned this on the mandolin?” and she was like, “Absolutely. Do that. That’s gonna be amazing.” Which was just so shocking to me! I thought I had probably lost my mind. [Laughs]

It was also her idea to put it after “Salt (in the Wounds) of the Earth.” I mean, I feel like everyone thinks they’re gonna get a big ol’ chance to exhale after “Salt (in the Wounds) of the Earth,” and instead… I mean, think of it like these Peloton instructors: You think, “Surely, surely this is it. Surely this is the hardest I’m gonna have to go.” And they’re like, GIVE ME FIVE MORE ON YOUR RESISTANCE!!

I feel like it’s that kind of move, going from “Salt (in the Wounds) of the Earth” to the fourth movement of the Bartok sonata. It’s as if the demon in “Salt (in the Wounds) of the Earth” just took my mandolin from me. But that’s the kind of perspective someone who loves you—but isn’t taking any of your shit—can help you with, especially someone who also has a deep and wide skill set that is compatible with mine. It was so fun to work with her on that.

You’ve always got multiple projects going. Is there anything you learned specifically from performing in groups and making music in that atmosphere that you feel gave you an advantage when you set out to record an album alone?

The accountability — the musical accountability, artistic accountability — that you feel in a collaborative context is noticeably absent in a solo context, so you need to pick up the slack there. You need to start roleplaying those people in your life who hold you artistically accountable. Thank God I had Claire involved in this project, but on the deep I-dotting and T-crossings that you encounter at every step along the way of the record-making process, I would also assume the role of an Edgar Meyer or Gabe Witcher or a Sara Watkins. I’d tease out a little fake conversation between myself and them, all by myself in the practice room. “In what way am I not being clear enough right now? In what way am I being self-indulgent right now?”

There are so many things that you learn from the people around you. But there are also things that you can learn in the silent retreat of making music solo. There are things that I can take back to each of those projects — things I can take back to Punch Brothers, or Nickel Creek, or the Goat Rodeo Sessions — that I think could be illuminative in those contexts.

Do you enjoy talking about religion outside of your art?

People have such strong feelings about religion. You wanna bust open a conversation, bring up God — like, in a real way. People are gonna quit mincing words and they’re gonna start talking about shit. I love that. I really love talking to people about that kind of stuff, from wherever they are. I find it endlessly instructive in my own journey. I find someone’s total disinterest in it just as interesting as total interest in it. If I bring up God and you’re like, “I don’t wanna talk about that shit, come on,” then I love you for that. Let’s go with that. Let’s talk about that.

And if I bring up God and you’re like, “Ugh, you know what? I was just praying about that this morning, I feel like the Lord brought you to me,” I’m in. Let’s go there. Why do you feel that way? Let’s go there. At this point, I have no reservations about bringing up God. It’s always been an instinct of mine to infuse whatever I’m thinking about with a little of that kind of imagery and language and thought, and so this was cathartic for me to just turn all the taps on and let it run.

You push beyond your own religious upbringing, too — you also included a song, “Dionysus,” named for the Greek god of grapes and wine. What inspired you to write about that figure?

I’m always looking for encouragement, as a human being, about human beings. We see a lot of evidence of our failings right now, and I want to see evidence of our success. Wine — the existence of good wine — is evidence of our success as a species. That is a beautiful relationship with the earth. We have occasionally exploited that relationship, but the best wine comes from the healthiest relationship with the soil. The best winemakers have this beautiful balance of science and mysticism. It sounds silly, but I find the whole thing very inspiring.

Ecclesiastes 2:24 seems like it’s along those lines, too: “Nothing is better for a man than that he should eat and drink, and that his soul should enjoy good in his labor. This also, I saw, was from the hand of God.” Why express that instrumentally rather than through lyrics?

Think about the last great dinner that you had with friends. Could you really, with words, describe to me why it was so great? Could you say, “And then we talked about this” or “Next, we gossiped about that”? When you walk me through that, or when I walk you through the last dinner I had, it’s gonna sound trite. And yet, there was something holy about it, you know? Maybe there was a new person that you sat next to, and you got a little light into a different corner of life that night. But could you say with words what that was? I don’t think you could, necessarily, say what can be so transcendent and transportive about a great dinner with friends. That’s where instrumental music excels — in the cracks of language. What language is incapable of properly expressing, instrumental music steps up and says, “I got this.”

Photos: Josh Goleman

Chris Thile Considers His Community and Christian Upbringing in ‘Laysongs’ (1 of 2)

Posted on by Editor

For a while, Chris Thile might have been the busiest man in bluegrass. The former public radio host has snagged four Grammy awards and a prestigious MacArthur “Genius Grant,” all the while maintaining his status as a founding member of Punch Brothers, the Goat Rodeo Sessions, and Nickel Creek, collaborating with plenty of other Americana firebrands along the way. But on his latest album, Laysongs, Thile slowed down.

A solo album in the truest sense — it’s just Thile and a mandolin, after all — the album was recorded by engineer Jody Elff at Future-Past, a studio housed in an old church in Hudson, New York. The setting was a perfect match for the religion-influenced album, which ranges from the biblical passages of Thile’s Christian upbringing to mythological ideas about gods and gathering from the Greeks and the Romans. Below, in the first of a two-part interview, BGS caught up with Thile about recording the new album, finding inspiration in memories from his adolescence, and the dearly missed joy of a packed concert hall.

BGS: You recorded this album in a church in upstate New York. What did that atmosphere lend to the album, whether purely sonically to the recording or more generally as inspiration?

Thile: That was such a stroke of luck in a time that felt like it was a little thin on luck overall. [Laughs] We were weathering the earlier stages of the pandemic in Hudson, New York, and someone told me about a church right in the middle of town that had been converted into a studio. I went and checked it out and played a few notes in there and absolutely loved it. It’s not the most awe-inspiring church, but there were stain-glassed windows and very odd paintings that all brought me right back to my childhood.

I never attended a grand, elegant church growing up. This was still a beautiful church, but it was helpful that it wasn’t, y’know, St. Patrick’s in downtown New York — that it had a whole lot of that whole human-beings-just-trying-to-do-the-best-with-what-they-have kind of a vibe. Getting to be there was really helpful in terms of getting into character for the songs that I was recording. So much of the record comes from solitude… Actually, the solitude of the pandemic felt a lot like the solitude of spending one’s adolescence in a church pew.

What do you mean by that?

I spent so much of my adolescent time in church wondering if I was the only person there who was doubting the existence of God, or who couldn’t not think about how attractive the girl two pews over was. “Wait, I’m going to hell now probably, right?” Or, “Wait, is there hell? What is going on?” The pandemic thrust me and a lot of other people that I know back into that sort of lonesome, existential monologue: “Has every single choice I’ve made up to this point been wrong, perhaps?”

The sort of strange dialogue that we have with ourselves late at night started reminding me of those weird dialogues I would have with myself in church. I could well imagine at 16 years old sitting in this pew at Christian Community Church in Kentucky. I could well imagine there was a little angel and devil on my shoulder kind of duking it out. The centerpiece of the record, “Salt (in the Wounds) of the Earth” is very much a grown-up version of that feeling—but you know, also, how grown-up, really? I’m 40 now, and so much of the time, this felt like a rebirth right back into adolescence, smack in the middle of the most awkward period of our lives.

I loved being in that church for all those reasons. It was so easy to put myself in the headspace I was in when I had written the lyrics or when I discovered the power of those songs that I didn’t write that are on the record. It just lent a certain weight to those performances.

Why did it feel like the right time to approach religion specifically here? Was there anything you felt you had to tread carefully around?

If there’s a silver lining of this whole incredibly disorienting and distressing affair, it’s the chance to gain a little context: to have been forced to take a massive step back and to take a look at our lives, whether we wanted to or not. One of the things I saw, in the midst of missing the community that I’d inserted myself into, was that community often ends up acting in ways that are similar to my experience of organized religion.

How so?

A lot of people who grow up with religion and veer away from it at a certain point are veering away from what they — what we — perceive to be a poisonous exclusivity, or habitual exclusionism. I think that’s one of the main turn-offs for my generation on organized religion. You start meeting people who aren’t welcome in the flock, and you start wondering why. Having taken a step back, I see the same kind of exclusionary behavior in my current community. If you take a look at your own community, it’s probably full of people who think a lot like you do, and who feel very similar to the way that you do about whatever’s going on right now, and who live in a very similar way. I worry that we, as human beings, are trading one messed-up thing for another messed-up thing.

I adore community. I love it so, so much. For instance, the Telluride Bluegrass Festival: I feel like those are the high holy days of my acoustic music-making community, and to be deprived of them is so painful. You feel cast adrift, untethered. I can’t wait to get back and I’ll never take that for granted again. But I also want to go back there with my eyes wide open as to whom I have habitually not welcomed into that community. What barriers am I being a part of unknowingly placing between people and that community that I love so much? And what harm is that doing that community?

Tell me about how that harm appears on the record.

There’s a lot in the record about coming together, but there’s also a lot in the record about our compulsive need to compare ourselves favorably to other people. In an effort to feel better about ourselves, we look for someone to feel better than. That’s what “Salt (in the Wounds) of the Earth” is about. I took a look at this thing that had been a big deal for me in my adolescence, The Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis, and I was wondering: What would those demons be up to with me, right now? They would be preying on this compulsive desire to feel good about myself. One of the easiest, dirtiest ways to feel better about yourself is by looking at someone else and going, “Well, I’m better than that guy.”

In “Laysong,” the lyrics mention “drown[ing] out the enemy.” It made me wonder what it is that you consider the enemy — maybe it’s this comparison trap, maybe not — and how you drown it out.

When I wrote that lyric, the enemy was he or they that would talk loudest regardless of whether they had the best idea. “I’m gonna say whatever I have to say louder than anyone is saying anything else, and therefore it will be all that’s heard, and the discussion will be on my terms.” That felt like the enemy. And at that moment, in that lyric, I had to write it. It fit with the shape of the melody. The idea of drowning out the enemy — I couldn’t shake it, even though it’s not what I believe to be right. [Laughs] Hopefully you can get a sense of that in the performance, that it’s coming from an angry and not altogether balanced place. In that moment, I was pursuing the idea of drowning out the enemy with beauty, with restructuring, with anything, really. Let’s get a love song, let’s get a hard-times song, anything but a song about the front page of the newspaper.

The record starts there and ends with the Hazel Dickens song, “Won’t you come and sing for me.” When I get back into the concert hall, there’s no way I’m not ending my solo set with that song, the performance is going to be sincere—especially at the end of all this solitary music-making. [Laughs] But “Laysong” is very much like an altar call for the record. “Here’s what we’re gonna discuss.” Who knows where we’re gonna come out? I know that when I listen to a record, there’s a collaboration that starts there. I would love to imagine that happens when people listen to my records, too—that it starts a conversation. I can’t wait to feel that in the concert hall. No piece of music is done until you [the audience] hear it. And I am so dearly looking forward to that completion of this little bit of work.

Editor’s Note: Read the second half of the BGS Artist of the Month interview with Chris Thile.

Photos: Josh Goleman