Tag: fiddle

When You Listen the Land Speaks

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

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An often nameless, faceless character present in all country music is land. In a genre commonly referred to as country & western, land is a constant presence, whether foreground or background, evoked or painted, longed-for or spurned. Another nameless, faceless character that comes hand-in-hand with country and its relationship to land is colonialism – white supremacy, genocide, and imperialism advanced by music that claims to simply center nostalgia, rurality, and an “old fashioned” way of doing things.

This kind of revisionist history in country music – a sanitization of this nation’s past and present, in order to fit into widespread myths, around which this genre and our national identity is built – is no less pernicious simply because it is common and pervasive. It’s important to not only acknowledge country’s relationship with land, but to also attempt to deconstruct the ways that these roots genres perpetuate colonialist ideals and norms.

Can Good Country exist if it must deny the history of the land it professes to love? Can Good Country exist if it must deny that there would be no “country & western” without Indigenous people? These are questions that we feel are essential to ask, right out of the gate, even if their answers are not so simple. Good Country hopes to be a place that can represent all kinds of country music, but it cannot do that if we accept, uninterrogated and unexamined, that country’s relationship to the land must be good, moral, wholesome, and just.

At the heart of the second edition of Counterpublic – an artistic activation described on its website as “a civic exhibition that weaves contemporary art into the life of St. Louis for three months every three years…” – just south of downtown and the towering Gateway Arch, sits Sugarloaf Mound. From April to July 2023, Counterpublic included twenty-five public art installations at a variety of locations, including Sugarloaf Mound, a sacred site for the Osage People and the last intact mound in the city. In earlier eras, the area was home to many thousands of Indigenous people – and the largest city in what would become the United States, Cahokia.

Adjacent to Sugarloaf Mound was the first Counterpublic installation and site, a collaborative piece that wove together sculpture, land, and music by mother-and-son artistic duo, Anita and Nokosee Fields. Anita Fields (Osage/Muscogee) is a fine artist who works in many media, but especially clay and textiles. Nokosee Fields (Osage/Cherokee/Muscogee) is a critically-acclaimed and in-demand old-time fiddler, equally at home in country and Americana as in old-time and string band traditions, and with a great deal of expertise on Indigenous fiddlers and Indigenous fiddling.

Their piece, WayBack, which was curated by Risa Puleo, is synopsized as such:

“Created in collaboration with her son Nokosee Fields (Osage/Cherokee/Muscogee), Anita Fields’s (Osage/Muscogee) WayBack invites visitors to gather in physical relation to each other, to Sugarloaf Mound, and to Osage ancestors, history, and legacy. When the Osage Nation purchased part of Sugarloaf Mound in 2007, the sacred site was reabsorbed into the Nation through the auspices of property, extending Osage territory from the site of their displacement in Oklahoma back to their ancestral homeland. Atop this site, forty platforms are installed, modeled after those found at Osage events in Oklahoma. Each platform is embellished with ribbons that reference Osage cosmologies of balance between sky, water, and earth. Nokosee Fields’s composition for wind instruments invites further consideration of the earth from which the mound was constructed, the sky that unfolds above the platforms, the sound of the Mississippi River on the banks below the quarry and the wind that flows through the surrounding trees that transform first into breath. After the exhibition, the platforms will travel from St. Louis to Tulsa where they will be distributed to Osage community members completing the link between the current home of the Osage Nation and its ancestral homelands.”

“Middle Waters,” the labyrinthine composition by Nokosee that acted as soundtrack for the installation, its platforms, and the adjacent mound (listen via the Counterpublic site here), perfectly illustrates how adept country music – and its textures, styles, and traditions – can be at capturing the ineffable, spiritual qualities of land and our relationships with it. Fiddle, field recordings, wind instruments, voices, and more intermingle in a piece that feels as organic and grounded as Anita’s sculptures.

Now, after the installation’s closing, each of the forty platforms constructed by Anita and displayed at the Counterpublic site will be moved to what’s now called Oklahoma, to be distributed to members of the Osage community and to have a continued life, further illustrating how art, music, and land gain all of their meaning from the communities that interact with and rely on them.

On the occasion of Good Country’s inaugural issue, we spoke to Anita & Nokosee Fields about WayBack, “Middle Waters,” the Counterpublic exhibition, and how humans, land, music, and art intersect and combine.

Could you just take me into the inspiration and the conception of WayBack and how you started working together and collaborating on the piece, not only with each other, but also with the land and with the site? Um, maybe Anita, do you want to start?

Anita Fields: Sure. Over two years ago now I was contacted by Risa Puelo, who was one of the curators chosen for the Counterpublic triennial in St. Louis. [Risa] asked if I would like to join and explained their purpose, what they were doing, and what their groundwork was for the triennial. She said, “I know your whole family are artists, so if you would like to invite somebody from your family to participate with you, that would be absolutely fine.”

But let’s begin with what their goal was, and that was to talk about the difficult histories of a place. St. Louis is certainly one of those. The reason that I was asked to join was that, for the Osage People, St. Louis, Missouri – and even further than that – is our ancestral homeland. It’s a large area, including St. Louis, Missouri, Arkansas, and even further than that in the beginning, migration from almost the East Coast to the Ohio Valley, to where our written and documented history begins in Missouri. So that was our homeland and there are documented villages there, still, and lots of history there, because after Lewis and Clark’s expedition we held the trade there. After Lewis and Clark, we started interacting real heavily and marrying with the French, partially because the French were trying to hold onto political power through the fur trade.

That is our history there [in St. Louis]. And then of course came displacement. A series of treaties started moving us out of that area, ‘til we came into Kansas. We had a reservation there and then we sold that reservation and with that money we bought what is our reservation today from the Cherokee Nation in Oklahoma. That’s it in a nutshell, and of course it’s way more complicated than that.

Nokosee and I don’t live in close proximity to one another, so I was like, “Oh my gosh, is this going to be able to work over the phone and Zoom? That’s going to be kind of difficult!” Then an opportunity arrived for me to go to Bogliasco, Italy for a month-long residency. I asked if I could bring a collaborator, and that’s where we landed for a month – on the Mediterranean, in this beautiful, beautiful, beautiful place, on the coast of Italy, not very far from Genoa. We schemed and dreamed and planned. And it was very difficult trying to arrive at a place where we were both happy.

Nokosee, I wonder how, as a songwriter and composer, you began approaching this? How did you take your musical vision and dovetail it with the physical vision, with the sculpture, and with the place? What was the process like as you sat down in Italy to start creating together?

Nokosee Fields: When we were both in Italy, I had a little field recording kit that I had been using. I would just roam around the grounds recording things. There’s the ocean right there, there are all these really intense waves happening, a lot of sounds to be had. There was also a poet, Robin Robertson, who was a fellow there at the foundation and I asked if he wanted to do any collaborating, because we had a lot of time there – it was a testament to the importance of having space and time to have creative thoughts. Which, I feel it’s really rare. For a lot of artists, you have to hustle a lot. We were there for one month, I was getting very regular sleep, I was eating three nourishing meals a day, and getting some exercise. And again, it’s also in this beautiful location, and we were surrounded by really smart artists. It was just a very stimulating, nourishing, and calm environment. I was able to actually have some visions and clarity. And I was able to indulge a lot of things – where, you know, most of the time I’m just barely piecing things together to make money or to pay rent.

It began with [Robertson] reciting a poem, then I started layering him reciting this poem with the waves and different sounds from around the grounds, manipulating them. I like the idea of using really intricate, small, detailed, fine sounds – using a really sensitive mic – and then turning that into something else. Or, pitching it, layering it on top of people’s voices or singing, or maybe something a little more recognizable.

For me, the space and time to have all of that creative flow happening – it took what felt like a month of just space to finally get somewhere with something. It was eye opening, a testament to needing space and time, because we kinda flip-flopped back and forth on what we were gonna do. I wouldn’t say we were struggling, it was just that we were in this new place and jet lagged. Our project was not hands-on, because it was just all conceptual, so it was a little difficult to land on something.

I do want to talk about the site, because – obviously I’ve only seen the photos – there’s an interesting juxtaposition of this kind of dreamlike soundscape for the piece with “Middle Waters” and then the site itself feeling somewhat shoehorned into modernity. You have the river there you have the highway here and of course there’s a billboard incorporated into the piece, as well. Anita, can you talk about how you wanted to play around with that juxtaposition with this sacred site that now is somewhat entrapped by modernity and by settler culture?

AF: There’s always a backstory surrounding my work, and how I came to be. I was born on the reservation and spent a lot of time with my grandmother, who was full blood, and I’ve chosen to be very close to my culture, even as an adult. As much as I could, I did what my grandmother did for me for my children, to make sure they have a place there, [in my culture]. In my own work, as I became older and older, I would be inspired by things that come from our worldview, which is a very complex worldview, but it’s very beautiful.

We still have those values. As a modern person, those values are still in place – you know, where I’m from. You can witness them in how we interact with one another, a lot of times. I think that is a very beautiful thing to know that what my ancestors left for us you can still recognize. A lot of my work surrounds that kind of thought, that there is another way of looking at the world that is not just a tunnel vision of, “We’re all like this and we’re going to go to the mall forever.”

And that’s our worldview; it’s way deeper than that. Through art, that’s a beautiful place to be able to tap into those kinds of thoughts and values. So I wanted, because that is our original homeland and that is such an important site, I wanted to be able to bring in this sense that we’re reclaiming that space again, marking it as ours, and [saying] this is who we are. I want people to know this is who we are.

Those wooden platforms are actually found throughout [our culture]. I’ll describe it to you this way, because this is the way I write about it: They have been around for a very long time. My earliest memories of them are when I was a young person, a young girl going around with my grandmother, and I would see them outside of large Osage homes or outside of our dances.
At camps, people have family camps, and these platforms would be there and you’d see older people putting their blanket down and sitting on it and then maybe somebody giving them a glass of lemonade or a Coke. And then they’d light up a cigarette and they’d be just visiting and laughing away with a relative or a friend.

And it always looked very calming and peaceful to me. Those are the kind of memories too that I often tap into. But it’s also much deeper than that. What I was seeing there was, yes peaceful and calming, that was happening, but I was also witnessing survivors who had gone through a lot just for us to be able to be here. There are always these links.

What better place to be able to bring those [platforms], because that is the place that we had to survive from, to move from St. Louis. I’m always interested in giving people a glimpse into who we are. It’s not my job to talk about ceremony or rituals or any of that kind of thing. But I want people, again, with that thought in mind, I want people to know who we are and that there’s a different way of looking at the world and it comes from very complex, intelligent thinking and is based on observing nature and the cosmos. These values and these systems are still here for us today.

With the platforms, we started by going to Google Maps, downloading maps and images, and the site was kind of big, so it wasn’t working with one platform. And we just kept going, “Guys, that platform is gonna drown in that big space!” It’s beautiful to be able to work with a great curator because between our conversations with all of us we decided, if the money can be found, maybe we can have more – it began there. That is how those arrived and then we topped them with designs that are familiar to us as Osage People. We painted those on there, designs that are used in our ribbon work clothing – which comes directly out of our interaction with the French, when we started trading for ribbons and needles and threads and thimbles and that kind of thing. This kind of interaction with the French and our time there totally changed our culture forever.

…You know, with working with clay as long as I have, one of the things I feel very deeply about is that the earth holds memory. That has been revealed to me, just because of how clay is made over time. I’m certain it holds the memories of who was there, wherever in the world.

I mean, in Italy, a couple of times when we would travel to these places and then we would read about the history, I felt that there, too. No matter where you’re at there are always the similarities to what has happened in history – “the conqueror” and “the conquered” – these stories are all threaded together and similar. I couldn’t see WayBack without sound in any way, shape, or form. It just wouldn’t have the punch that I was looking for.

I did want to ask, where are we at in the lifespan of the piece? I know that the plan is to distribute the platforms to Osage community members back around Tulsa. I just wonder where you’re at in that process?

AF: Yes, it was temporary and as soon as Counterpublic closed, I think it was within two weeks, they were picked up and shipped back to Tulsa to the [Tulsa Arts] Fellowship. The Fellowship is storing them for me. Then I got a call from the First Americans Museum in Oklahoma City, which is I think in its second year. They have a beautiful courtyard plaza and they have built a mound-like area where you can witness the solstices. The curator was at the Counterpublic closing and she said, “I want to bring these to First Americans Museum, what’s the plan for these as soon as this is over?” Well they took half of them and then half of them stayed here, displayed at a place called Guthrie Green in Tulsa for about a week. Yesterday, the ones from First Americans Art Museum were delivered to the Osage Nation. I want to distribute them to the Osage community. In my mind I’m like, “What am I going to do with 40 platforms when they return? What’s going to happen with these and who owns them?” And actually that was [curator Risa Puleo’s] suggestion: Is there any way these could be returned to the Osage community?

People are excited about it, those that know about it. Not a whole lot of people know. I’m trying to keep it [quiet] ‘til I get it all figured out, but they’re excited about it. I’m excited about it, too, because that is another way to make art accessible. To bring it back to where you come from. Because those folks are totally my inspiration, and I say this at every turn, whenever I have the opportunity. You’re my inspiration. Your grandmother, my grandmother, every interaction I’ve seen throughout my life. This is my inspiration.

Nokosee, I wonder, do you see a similar way of bringing “Middle Waters” to the people? Do you see a lifespan for that piece beyond this installation? Or do you think it’s a moment in time and it’s onto the next work?

NF: Yeah, I think it’s just a moment in time. I might edit it, but I’m pretty pleased with it. If anything, it’s more of a reason to want to do more sound installations, sound art kind of things. I’ve been wanting to transition to that kind of work. As much as I’ve enjoyed touring – and I’ll probably do it for as long as I can – I find it to be pretty taxing. It’s tons of fun, but I think I need something that’s a little more cerebral, a little more isolated, a little more supported, and also a place for my voice and creativity. I feel like I’m kind of waking up from an obsession where I just got into traditional American music, traditional fiddle. Now that I’m steeped in that world and I feel like I’m really a part of it, I also feel like there’s a lot of it I just don’t really care for.

This sounds really uppity, but making traditional fiddle music feels kind of separate from [country], it’s just melody. I like the foundational aspects of music and the research and tone, things like that. And I like it because it’s not really tied to lyrics, it’s not putting on a type of personality, like lyrical content [does].

That, to me, is often just perpetuating settler mythology about old-time music. There are a lot of things that could be said about old-time music that are also problematic. Instrumental music is where I really jive and get into stuff, but I’ve also had to constantly interface and participate in lots of country music or lyrical music that has content that, to me, just feels like propaganda with really rudimentary, basic understandings of the land.

It feels like a type of erasure. It’s just kind of designed that way – maybe not maliciously – but it’s just so deeply woven into how things work in this country. …I find a lot of country music today, a lot of the younger, popular stuff, it feels like it’s about convincing white people that they’re white or something. There’s this pseudo-woke take on country music, which I think is fine, it’s just not radical enough for me or something. It’s like it’s just enough for people to kind of maybe get their outlaw fix.

It still doesn’t work for me and I still find it very rudimentary and actually not very confrontational or very deep, as far as what’s actually going on in the world or on this continent.

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Lead Image: Anita & Nokosee Fields via Counterpublic.
Image of Anita Fields: Courtesy of the Artist.

Headline text from Anna Tsouhlarakis, “The Native Guide Project: STL.” Billboard and digital signage. Curator: New Red Order. Counterpublic 2023, Sugarloaf Mound Site.

You Gotta Hear This: New Music from Caleb Caudle, Zoe Boekbinder, and More

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

This week, BGS readers enjoyed two brand new, original sessions – one from Jesper Lindell at Rootsy Summer Fest ’23 and the other featuring bluegrass singer-songwriter Theo MacMillan for our latest Yamaha Session.

Now, to wrap up the week, we’re celebrating new releases from a host of roots musicians like Caleb Caudle, Zoe Boekbinder, Eddie Sanders, Denmark-based string band Twang, and fiddler Andy Leftwich.

Of all the new music released this week, you gotta hear this!

Caleb Caudle, “Monte Carlo”

Artist: Caleb Caudle
Hometown: Germanton, North Carolina
Song: “Monte Carlo”
Album: Live From Cash Cabin
Release Date: January 31, 2024 (single); February 29, 2024 (EP)

In Their Words: “We recorded these songs live at Cash Cabin in the spring of 2022 and had such a great time. It was one of my last memories of playing music with my friend, Alex McKinney, who recently passed away after a battle with cancer. His untimely death hit me like a ton of bricks and I wanted to release this now to showcase what an amazing musician he was. I’m so thankful for these recordings that keep his spirit alive.” – Caleb Caudle

Video Credit: Joseph Cash

Zoe Boekbinder, “Hold My Hand”

Artist: Zoe Boekbinder
Hometown: New Orleans, Louisiana
Song: “Hold My Hand”
Album: Wildflower
Release Date: February 2, 2024 (single); April 26, 2024 (album)
Label: Are and Be Recordings

In Their Words: “‘Hold My Hand’ was written on a farm of rescue horses in the mountains in northern Spain. I was there doing a music residency in the summer of 2017. Myself and another songwriter, Dustin Hamman, co-wrote a collection of songs and recorded them all in one week. We also each wrote one song independent of each other. ‘Hold My Hand’ was mine. We slept in the attic of the horse barn, directly above the horse stalls. One of the horses had digestive issues that caused it to fart very loudly and constantly. It was an interesting soundtrack for sleeping. Somehow in that silliness, I wrote this very painful song about my confused heart.” – Zoe Boekbinder

Twang, “Crowdpleaser”

Artist: Twang
Hometown: Copenhagen, Denmark
Song: “Crowdpleaser”
Release Date: February 2, 2024

In Their Words: “The song talks about a musician’s encounter with the audience and the fear that things could go terribly wrong. Despite this fear, the message is to be honest and give everything you have, in order to receive the same honesty and love in return. The chorus goes: ‘Love is honesty, honesty, respect / What you give is what you get.'” – Twang

Video Credit: Hidayet C

Eddie Sanders, “Chasing That Midnight Moon”

Artist: Eddie Sanders
Hometown: McAlester, Oklahoma
Song: “Chasing That Midnight Moon”
Album: Born to Fly
Label: True Lonesome Records

In Their Words: “I really love this new single, ‘Chasing That Midnight Moon,’ a song I co-wrote with my producer and good friend, Glen Duncan. Glen, along with an all-star cast of pickers, found a dynamic studio groove on this one right away. Then, when the great John Cowan added his signature harmony, it immediately became one of my favorites on the forthcoming album and locked it in as the debut single. I can’t wait for everyone to check it out on the new True Lonesome Records label!” – Eddie Sanders

“What a pleasure and pleasant surprise to get to participate on Eddie’s ‘Chasing That Midnight Moon.’ Eddie possesses one of the finest voices and songwriting gifts in contemporary bluegrass music.” – John Cowan

Andy Leftwich, “Behind the 8 Ball”

Artist: Andy Leftwich
Hometown: Carthage, Tennessee
Song: “Behind the 8 Ball”
Release Date: February 2, 2024
Label: Mountain Home Music Company

In Their Words: “The idea of this song was to have an upbeat ‘barn burner’ that could lend itself to some really creative soloing, and I feel like we captured that here. I have to give the credit of the title to my wife, Rachel, who heard me mention this phrase while in the studio recording it. We were moving along, but not at the pace I was hoping, so we were behind on time. At the end of the day, she mentioned naming this song, ‘Behind the 8 Ball.’ I thought it was perfect! It certainly has that anxious spirit we all have from time to time when we get in tough spots, but it’s a fun tune that has great energy and a different sound than you normally hear in bluegrass ‘barn burner’ instrumentals.” – Andy Leftwich

Jesper Lindell, “It Ain’t Easy”

Last summer, on the banks of the Ätran beside Tryckhallen – Rootsy Summer & Winter Fests’ home venue – in Falkenberg, Sweden, Jesper Lindell offered two songs in simple, stripped down, acoustic performances for his Rootsy Summer Session. On a balcony overlooking the rushing water and festival stage, he sings “It Ain’t Easy,” a song of long-suffering and devotion from his 2023 EP, Windows Vol. 1.

Read more and watch the full session here.

Theo MacMillan, “The One That’s Broken”

For our second original session this week, Theo MacMillan (of Theo & Brenna) and his band performed for an exclusive Yamaha Session at Solar Cabin last fall. MacMillan, who brought along Jed Clark (bass), Harry Clark (mandolin), and Cory Walker (banjo), pulled his Yamaha acoustic guitar out of the case and performed two original numbers. The first, “The One That’s Broken,” leans forward at a breakneck pace, channeling the frustration of a messy relationship’s end with cattywampus stops artfully executed by the band, tight and together.

Watch more here.

Photo Credit: Caleb Caudle by Joseph Cash; Zoe Boekbinder by Justin Nunnink.

Sam Bush – Toy Heart: A Podcast About Bluegrass

Posted on by Shelby Williamson

Newgrass luminary Sam Bush joins host Tom Power for the highly anticipated debut episode of Toy Heart Season 2. Bush – the celebrated mandolinist, Bluegrass Hall of Famer, and co-founder of New Grass Revival and the Telluride House Band – opens up about his illustrious career, from his early days of fiddle contests in Weiser, Idaho, to the pivotal moments learning at the feet of influential figures like Bill Monroe. Bush’s narrative weaves a rich tapestry of bluegrass history.

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Season 2’s first episode features stories of Sam’s many genre-breaking collaborations, including playing with the Dillards and New Grass Revival plus his time at Capitol Records. He waxes poetic about the magic of jam sessions and improvisation, and the profound influence of artists like Byron Berline. From the roots of “Callin’ Baton Rouge” to the impact of the Vietnam era, Bush’s journey is a testament to the ever-evolving nature of bluegrass.

Photo courtesy of Prater Day

6 Old-Time Tunes for Your Winter “Happy-Sads”

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Every January and February contain the same complicated emotional cocktail – a hangover from the holidays, a buzz of hope for the future, grief for the year gone by, relief to have moved on, joy in the lack of plans, and perhaps even dread for any winter still to come. Whichever way you slice it, it is a time of mixed emotions, usually of the slightly melancholy variety, but not wholly sad. I call this the “happy-sads.” This gentle gloom has always been beautiful to me in art, music, TV, film, etc. – and especially in an old-time tune!

Old-time music covers a vast range. There are tunes for every occasion and feeling – and the bittersweet is abundant. It’s also possible to get something different from a tune, depending on when and how you come across it. The tunes I find myself most drawn to this time of year are those that lope along, tinged equally with a sweet sadness and hope. Here are six old-time recordings that won’t cure your January/February “happy-sads” but rather, indulge them.

“Lost Indian,” Tricia Spencer & Howard Rains

Based in Lawrence, Kansas, Tricia Spencer and Howard Rains have deep musical roots in Kansas and Texas, respectively. With two wailing fiddles right up top, this is the perfect recording to start off this list. When the band kicks in you want to dance, but also cry?

“Backstep Indi,” Pharis & Jason Romero 

A fretless gourd banjo is a sure-fire way to indulge all of your complicated winter feels. Pharis & Jason Romero are no strangers to the cold and gray up in their Canadian home. A modern old-time tune, “Backstep-Indi” winds in and out and back again making it the perfect recording for a reflective chilly day.

“Fire on the Mountain,” Matt Brown

Matt Brown’s recording of “Fire on the Mountain,” a tune from Kentucky fiddler Isham Monday, never fails to inspire peace, personally. It’s just ultimately serene and mournful like a proper January morning (or afternoon or evening). The G cross tuning, fingerstyle banjo, the simple delivery are all just right.

“Railroad Bill,” Etta Baker

The way Etta Baker’s fingerstyle guitar just chugs right along with a slow, but definite evolution during “Railroad Bill” has a familiarity and comfort to it. Her sound is still, steady, and warm, and that minor six chord really hits on a glum winter day.

“Weevils in the Grits,” Sami Braman

Sami Braman’s original tune, “Weevils in the Grits,” marches right along with Brittany Haas guest fiddling alongside her and her band. Open tunings on a fiddle can lean in the more “raging” direction or the drones that they create can open up the sound to something ethereal and archaic. Sometimes you get a combination of both, like we have here! BGS premiered “Weevils in the Grits” last year, too.

“Laughing Boy,” Earl White Stringband

There are several tunes off of the Earl White Stringband album that could have ended up on this list, notably the old-time jam hit “Chips and Sauce,” but this particular one stuck because of that fleeting moment where the melody winks at the minor chord while the band plays the major four and your heart explodes.

Photo Credit: United States Resettlement Administration, Ben Shahn, photographer. (1937) Aunt Samantha Baumgarner i.e. Bumgarner. United States, Asheville, North Carolina. Photograph retrieved from the Library of Congress.

Viv & Riley’s Tradition and Innovation on Basic Folk

Posted on by Shelby Williamson

Vivian Leva and Riley Calcagno, known as Viv & Riley, dive deep into the nuances of old-time music, their folk influences, and the process behind their album, Imaginary People. The duo, who ​met ​at ​a ​music ​camp ​in ​Port ​Townsend, ​Washington, trace their roots from Riley’s disciplined musical practice to Viv’s intuitive approach. The two found inspiration from growing up in the Seattle area listening to KEXP to living in Portland, Oregon, to their current home in Durham, North Carolina. Drawing on their experiences at fiddlers conventions and music camps, Viv & Riley reflect on the transformative power of collaboration and the vibrant community that has shaped their unique sound in their duo as well as their other band, The Onlies.

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As they share insights into their songwriting process, the episode unravels the intricate layers of Imaginary People, delving into the harmonious blend of indie roots and experimental production that defines their latest release. With a nod to their eclectic influences, including the supportive atmosphere of Durham, North Carolina, the duo discusses the evolution of their sound under the guidance of producer Alex Bingham from Hiss Golden Messenger, who produced their latest album.

Photo Credit: Libby Rodenbough

Brittany Haas Joins Punch Brothers Just in Time for the Energy Curfew

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

I first encountered Brittany Haas when I was 14 years old, attending the Mark O’Connor Fiddle Camp outside of Nashville. Brittany was only a few years older than me, but she was miles ahead of me musically and professionally, already gigging with some of the best traditional musicians around. I bought a copy of her self-titled CD and learned every single track on it. When I would meet other fiddle players my age, we would often bond over this recording and its shared influence on our playing.

Haas went on to join Boston-based band Crooked Still, one of the most influential string bands of the last 20 years. In the small community of acoustic music makers and lovers, Crooked Still was the kind of iconic band – much like Nickel Creek and Punch Brothers – that created a hundred baby bands in its wake, each inspired by the reinvention of traditional song in modern and exciting ways. There was even a period of time when seemingly all of the young women involved in the folk and bluegrass scene (myself included) began dressing like Haas, wearing messy buns in their hair and colorful leggings under short boho dresses.

Following her time with Crooked Still, Haas went on to play with Gillian Welch and Dave Rawlings, in the house band on Live From Here, and with her own genre-bending quartet, Hawktail – among many other projects. Unlike other powerhouse women instrumentalists like Missy Raines, Molly Tuttle, and Sierra Hull, who have carved out career paths by leading their own bands, Haas has stayed largely under the radar to the wider public, working primarily as a collaborator or band member.

As my own musical interests have grown and changed, I have found myself feeling guilty at times for not putting my focus on being an improvisational instrumentalist, fearing that I’m taking a too traditionally female path as a songwriter, and reenforcing gender expectations. But as Brittany has kicked through ceiling after ceiling as an instrumentalist, I’ve thought “Hey, it’s OK, Brittany is so good that nobody will ever doubt that a woman can do it!” For years, Haas has been a pinnacle, an example for the rest of us female instrumentalists. So, you can imagine the thrill that I felt when it was announced that Haas would be the newest member of Punch Brothers, a band that is representative of the highest caliber instrumental prowess in today’s acoustic music scene.

Haas’ first gigs with the band have been as part of The Energy Curfew Music Hour, a live radio-style show created by Claire Coffee and Chris Thile in collaboration with Audible. The show features Punch Brothers along with special guests like Jason Isbell, Gaby Moreno, and Sylvan Esso among others.

BGS had the opportunity to ask Brittany Haas a few questions about her career and her hopes for joining the band in the lead up to a handful of Energy Curfew Music Hour shows in New York City this month at Minetta Lane Theater.

Chris Thile & Punch Brothers perform at Energy Curfew Music Hour with Jason Isbell in December. Photo by Rebecca J Michelson.

You’ve had a lot of experience working with various members of Punch Brothers in different bands and formats over the years, what about the particular aesthetic and ambition of Punch Brothers made you want to accept the gig?

I’ve been a fan of the band for a long time – I guess as long as they’ve been a band. So the idea of joining was very exciting. I think any fan would tell you that there’s something about the band – the expansive nature of their approach to writing and arranging music – that is really unique. They’re making music that doesn’t sound like anything else. Getting to jump into something that’s been evolving and expanding into and beyond itself for so long is really cool. And as an instrumentalist in this “new acoustic” musical universe, it’s basically a dream gig, joining four incredibly talented and smart people and making music through which I know I will grow as an artist.

You’re known as a fiddle player that’s rooted in old-time traditions, but also improvisationally virtuosic. Do you feel like your background in old-time will bring a different flavor to the band moving forward?

Old-time is a genre in which I feel a lot of joy and comfort, so it’s always nice when that can be utilized in service of a tune or a song. Lately, in playing with my sister and with Hawktail, I also feel that my voice is strongly Celtic and Scandinavian – basically a combination of the genres I grew up around at fiddle camp and got obsessed with. I think that stuff will come out naturally no matter what new music we’re creating and perhaps some of the music will be written in that direction.

When stepping into a role that has been created and maintained by one specific fiddle player for so many years (Gabe Witcher), how much freedom do you have to remake the parts for the older material in your own voice?

I think this is true in many areas of life– the more deeply you know something, the more you can put yourself into it. Once you know intimately how it goes, you can be freer and more artful and playful with it while staying true to its nature. So that’ll be a journey for me with the back catalog material. Also, sometimes the parts he played were just the best thing that could happen in that musical moment. Some of the parts are more written than textural/improvised, so in those cases I will need to stay true to what he played. And I love his playing! Playing like Gabe is fun for me, because it stretches me in a different way than I normally go.

What made you want to wear a suit for this gig?

I’d never worn a suit before joining the band, so I saw it as an opportunity to try that. I always thought that the women I saw wearing pantsuits looked awesome. Plus it’s great having so many pockets for mic and in-ear packs. The other part of my thought process was, this is a band and I want to integrate into it, so it makes sense to wear the uniform. No one said I had to wear a suit. I’m sure it would be cool with everyone if one of them wanted to start wearing dresses, so it’d be cool for me to do that too, and maybe I will at some point.

You’ve made incredible records in a lot of different fiddle genres at this point, is there any uncharted territory that you hope to explore in the future?

The depths of my own mind! I’m partially kidding; I do want to write more music. But there is always uncharted territory! Darol Anger is an inspiration in this – he never stops practicing and devising new ideas for getting around the fiddle. I hope to keep learning tunes from different musical traditions. Lately I’ve enjoyed learning conjunto music and I’d like to spend more time with Eastern European folk music, getting comfortable in different time signatures, etc.

What is a record that has been inspiring you lately?

James Taylor’s album Hourglass from 1997. We learned a few of those songs to play with him on the show and I fell in love with them. Also Alasdair Fraser’s album Dawn Dance, which I returned to recently after first being obsessed with it about 25 years ago. It is still as lovely as I remembered.

What is your process for preparing to play with so many different guest artists on the show – how do you approach constructing fiddle parts?

Mostly listening. Generally, when we get together with the guest artists that’s when most of the decision making about parts happens. So my job is just to show up being familiar with the music. Sometimes there are more specific string-oriented parts to play.

You’ve been a part of the Live From Here house band in the past, how does the vision and format for the Energy Curfew shows differ from that show?

The format feels similar, although there is more of an air of collaboration, because there is a bit more time for creation and also the same core band for every show. And, the premise of the show centers on the idea of it being purely acoustic music, so that’s mostly what it is with some inventive ways around that rule when needed.

Photos courtesy of Audible. Lead image by Avery Brunkus; inset image by Rebecca J Michelson. 

WATCH: Charm City Junction, “Roll On John”

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Artist: Charm City Junction
Hometown: Baltimore, Maryland
Song: “Roll On John”
Album: Salt Box
Release Date: January 10, 2024 (single); February 2, 2024 (album)
Label: Fenchurch Music

In Their Words:“I first heard ‘Roll On John’ on an old Mike Seeger recording called Southern Banjo Sounds. His rendition is haunting yet enchanting, like a lot of old-time music. One of the most rewarding parts of playing in Charm City Junction is how each band member brings their own unique approach to roots music. When we first started playing together nearly 10 years ago, we essentially said, ‘Heck with the genre boundaries! Let’s play music we enjoy playing and see where it goes.’ It’s not quite old-time, it’s not quite bluegrass, it’s not quite Irish music. In a sense, it’s all of those, but none of those. We like it that way.

“Fun fact, this performance was captured live in a restored grist mill barn in Baltimore County, just a few miles from where our fiddler, Patrick McAvinue, grew up.” – Brad Kolodner, banjo

Track Credits:

Alex Lacquement – bass, vocals
Brad Kolodner – banjo, lead vocals
Sean McComiskey – button accordion
Patrick McAvinue – fiddle, vocals

Photo Credit: Jordan August
Video Credit: Directed by Rick Barnwell, RFBV Films

BGS Wraps: Luke Bulla, Celeigh Cardinal, Scythian, and More

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Happy Holidays from the entire team at BGS! The holiday weekend fast approaches and while we’re taking time away from our screens and inboxes this season, we hope you are, too. We’ll be back with more roots music content next week, but for now enjoy our final BGS Wraps before Christmas.

Wherever you travel and whatever your plans are as you wrap up 2023 and look ahead to 2024, we’re so grateful that you’re part of the BGS family.

Ellen Angelico AKA “Uncle Ellen,” Christmas at the Firehouse

Ellen Angelico is an in-demand side musician and session player in Nashville, touring, recording, and performing with artists like Cam, Amythyst Kiah, Adeem the Artist, Allison Russell, and many more. Christmas at the Firehouse is a fun and light holiday EP full of classic tunes and even a number for the Scandinavian winter holiday, St. Lucia’s Day. It’s a perfect addition to BGS Wraps!

Luke Bulla, Holiday Songs

Only available via Bandcamp, fiddler and singer-songwriter Luke Bulla’s seasonal album, Holiday Songs, showcases the particular intersections of Bulla’s musical career and artistry – Texas and Nashville, bluegrass and country, contest fiddling’s polish and old-time fiddling’s grit. “Christmas for Cowboys” is delightfully country & western and his version of “Auld Lang Syne” has us looking ahead to the new year already.

Celeigh Cardinal, “Party of One”

“New Year’s never comes/ When you’re nothing more than a party of one/…”

One of Celeigh Cardinal’s most experimental and far-reaching releases, this vibey and lush alt-pop track celebrates and bemoans solitude at the holiday season, especially the transition from the old year to the new. Add this one to your NYE playlist for sure.

Erin Enderlin, “A Horse Named Christmas”

Horse Girl Christmas is an aesthetic we could certainly get behind! Country singer-songwriter Erin Enderlin is joined by Kimberly Kelly on “A Horse Named Christmas,” a rare instance of a waning country and roots music tradition – the horse song. Co-written by Enderlin and Kelly, the track is a love song meets story song about a wayward, down-trodden horse showing up at the back gate in December.

Sarah King, “The Longest Night”

The light is coming back! If you’ve been counting down the days to solstice’s long, dark night and the eventual return of the sun, you’re not alone. On Sarah King’s soulful new track, “The Longest Night,” hope shines through a sense of weary perseverance. It’s an excellent song to score your solstice.

Alan Lomax Collection, Songs of Christmas, Midwinter & New Year

Another Bandcamp exclusive, the Alan Lomax Collection released a new compilation earlier this month called Songs of Christmas, Midwinter & New Year. The album features tracks recorded by Lomax in the ‘50s and ‘60s and highlights folk traditions from all around the world, from Italy to Trinidad, Harlem to Nevis.

J. Morrow, Lauren Morrow, “Strange Christmas”

An alt-rock, Americana number that celebrates – and decries – a strange, strange Christmas. We all know the sort of holiday, where the best strategy is to just get through it. Maybe your tree is a little wonky, your loved ones are far away, and you’re feeling more like Scrooge than Tiny Tim. It’s okay to have a “Strange Christmas.”

Mason Ramsey, “Run Run Rudolph”

We are proud and unapologetic Mason Ramsey fans over here and not just for his Wal-Mart yodeling. Who else agrees!? A fun and raucous holiday track from Ramsey adds a bit of chicken pickin’ to the forward leaning, Chuck Berry-inspired sound.

Scythian, Christmas Out at Sea

If you’re one of the folks for whom 2020’s sea shanty craze never ended, Scythian have released a holiday album just for you! Christmas Out at Sea is a maritime holiday delight by the premier dance and late night band of the roots music festival scene. Of course the collection kicks off with “I Saw Three Ships.”

Serabee, “Bayou Christmas”

Maybe your Christmas tree is a cypress or a live oak? Maybe you’re spending the holiday on stilts or boiling seafood or slow simmering gumbo? However swampy your season, Serabee’s “Bayou Christmas” will get you in the mood.

Jordyn Shellhart, Cross-Legged By the Fireplace

Jordyn Shellhart made our BGS Class of 2023 Good Country year-end round-up and the country artist – with a solidly mainstream sound – put out a cozy and delightful holiday EP this year, as well. She covers Joni Mitchell’s “River” and another more recent holiday song, “You Make It Feel Like Christmas.” On the latter, the EP’s standout track, she’s joined by Austin Snell for a tender duet. The project culminates with an original, “Coming To Town,” that will have you curling up by the fireplace, too.

Hunter Stone, “Ugly Sweater Party”

As you don your hideous-yet-beautiful holiday sweaters this season, Hunter Stone has the soundtrack for you! Although, a bit of critical feedback Hunter, we don’t think your pictured sweater is nearly ugly enough for the album art. This is a toe-tapping song that will have you grinning above your turtleneck. Lose that button on your slacks!

Our Classic Holiday Album Recommendation of the Week:
Vince Guaraldi Trio, A Charlie Brown Christmas

BGS Wraps would have been an absolutely phony endeavor if it didn’t end up including Vince Guaraldi Trio’s A Charlie Brown Christmas as a Classic Holiday Album Recommendation. This record can do it all, from the fanciest of dinner parties to the most casual and unhinged dance pajama parties with the siblings and cousins. It’s a heavy dose of nostalgia and an unimpeachable collection of music, too.

Happy Holidays from all of us at BGS! We’ll have a New Year’s themed BGS Wraps for you next week, ‘til then – peace, love, and joy from us to you.

 

The Fungi Sessions: Fiddler Hannah Read in Conversation with Sean Rowe

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

(Editor’s Note: Musician, forager, and ‘Can I Eat This?‘ host Sean Rowe recently chatted with singer-songwriter and instrumentalist Hannah Read for BGS about her new instrumental fiddle album, The Fungi Sessions, which was inspired by her mycologist father, who passed away in 2020. Their conversation has been lightly edited for flow and clarity.)

Sean Rowe: This is really cool for me, because obviously BGS had secret reasons for pairing us together and I think they made a good choice. I feel like we have some interesting things in common…

Let’s start with your origin. You were born in Scotland, correct? Whereabouts?

Hannah Read: Yep. I was born in Edinburgh. It’s a gorgeous city. I mean, it really is. I was born in Edinburgh, grew up there, and then I also lived on the Isle of Eigg, which is a wee island off the west coast of Scotland. When we lived there – I lived there with my mom and my sister – there were 60 people living on the island. Now it’s up to 120. It’s this incredible, incredible island, and that’s where I really got into music. We lived there full time when I was seven in a little house completely off the grid with no running water or electricity. Music just became my thing at that point.

That was kind of my Edinburgh – Edinburgh to Eigg and back. We were back and forth a lot until I was 18.

SR: I definitely want to talk about this new album, but before we get into that, can you tell me a little bit about the music you grew up with and also how it changed or evolved when you moved to the States?

HR: I grew up playing trad music. I’m heavily immersed in that scene. As I’m sure you’re well aware, the Scottish trad scene is thriving and has been thriving forever – at least in my lifetime. I was very involved in that. I was also very involved in the Scottish jazz scene. That was a big part of my upbringing.

My mum played music growing up. She played cello and we were around a lot of music. My dad was not a musician, but he listened. His record collection was absolutely bonkers and he had hitchhiked across America three or four times in the late ‘60s, early ‘70s, and was super into all the folk revival stuff. I was hearing a lot of that growing up, a lot of California folk stuff. It’s funny that I’m living here now, but a big part of my upbringing was listening to a lot of that stuff, alongside going and seeing any acts that were coming over from America, doing the circuit over there. [At] about 15 or 16 years old, I got super into jazz singing. And actually, I went to Paris and studied jazz vocals for a year when I was 18. I did like a one-year diploma there. Then I went over to Berklee College of Music, because my underlying thing, even when I was doing that, was that fiddle music was my true calling.

SR: And why the fiddle? What does it do for you?

Hannah Read: Oh, the fiddle. When I play the fiddle – I was actually playing yesterday and I had put it into a different tuning, it’s like F B, F B, this tuning that I’d just heard about a couple of nights ago. It doesn’t always do this, but the way it just kind of evokes so much, it’s such a deep resonance in my body, basically. I think I felt that my whole life when I’ve been playing the fiddle, being able to play with people, the community. The fiddle has opened up so many doors for me, it’s just become my whole community.

A couple of weeks ago, I was in Louisiana at Blackpot Festival. There’s this fiddle player called Rosie Newton who lives up in Ithaca and she was down there. She’s a great Cajun and old-time player and we hadn’t actually played tunes before, but we sat down and kind of like locked our knees [together] and played tunes. The way she plays, I was so interested to actually sit with her and play music. As you know, when you are playing just locked [in], there’s nothing in my mind as magical as when a fiddle on fiddle groove together.

SR: Aside from music, I’m also a forager. I have been for many years. I know that your father was a mycologist, how did you get into that world? What are some of your early memories around it? Your dad, I assume maybe he took you out on field trips, showing you things. Tell me about it.

HR: We were around it from when I was born, and I’ve been thinking about it a lot recently, obviously. You know, things from the salt shaker and pepper shaker in our house [were decorated] with little mushrooms. There was mushroomy stuff all over the walls – not in like a, “Bleh, we’re surrounded by mushrooms!” way, it was subtle, but it was very much there.

Dad had a lab at Edinburgh University. So when we would spend our weekends going to dad’s house, we would spend our weekends running around the labs at Edinburgh University. [I remember] the distinct smell of being in the biology lab at the university and checking out the new microscopes.

SR: Did you think it was weird? Compared to what your friends were doing or was it strange to you?

HR: My dad was so passionate, he was contagious. I think his passion for mycology, mushrooms, and his work has been a massive influence on me and my work and the passion that I have towards music and what I do. I mean, it’s an obsession, he was obsessed. Completely obsessed. And I am pretty obsessed with what I do, as well.

I remember going down to Newcastle, dad had some colleagues down there, friends down there, that we would go on forages in the woods with. He would also come over to Eigg and we would go out and look at mushrooms. We were always going off and getting chanterelles and puffballs. It was just what we did. He was always pointing them out. However, I think because it was Dad’s thing, and it was [always] around us, I never took the time to go, “Hmm, I’m going to learn more about this myself,” because I was surrounded by it. When people would talk about being into foraging or mushrooms suddenly I’m like, “Oh yeah, me too!” But, until dad passed away – three and a half years ago, at the beginning of the pandemic – and suddenly mushrooms. It almost felt like dad died and suddenly all this whole world opened up for me, because everybody was stuck at home and able to delve into these curiosities like fungi and being out in nature more, it became this thing. I was like, “Oh, this actually is my thing.”

But I don’t know that much about it. That was a funny bit. You know, the Fantastic Fungi film coming out and all of the buzz around that, and I actually did not realize until the last couple of months that my dad was friends with all of these people and I had met them all. I had met Paul Stamets. Dad was the president of the Royal Mycological Society – also the British Mycological Society. He was president, so he actually organized the 2010 world meeting which happened in Edinburgh at Usher Hall. All of these people came and I met them all then.

I played at the opening and closing event and I was around all of these people, but I never put two and two together until a couple of years ago when these films were coming out and there was all the buzz and until the album was about to come out. I had one of Dad’s colleagues say, “I’ll send the album to Paul Stamets and Merlin Sheldrake” – and all these other people.

So, over this time it had crossed my mind, “I’d like to learn more about this stuff.” I didn’t have the knowledge and I can’t quite talk about mushrooms – because there’s so many people that know way more than me, I feel underqualified – but anytime it came up and someone was like, “I do a lot of foraging,” and I’d [respond], “Oh, you do? I don’t, but I did.”

In the spring, the day after the anniversary of my dad passing, I was contacted by a mycologist at Edinburgh University called Dr. Edward Wallace. The topic of the email just said “Fungi music?” I was like, “What?” It just said, “I would love to commission you to write an album of fungi-inspired music. What do you think?”

Right away I was like, “Yes, this sounds amazing.” Turns out he’s about my age, he is also a fiddle player, and had been to see me play and I’d announced, “I’m playing a tune called ‘Waltz to a Fun Guy,’ which was this tune I wrote for my dad” – which was just a simple little waltz that was on my old-time record.

[Wallace] heard that and he thought, “I would love to hear more of this stuff with more of a focus.” That’s really where it came from. There was a grant from, the Welcome Trust, which is a trust in London, and they funded a full album. They gave me the opportunity to do whatever I wanted. It’s been a really, really interesting process. It came out of nowhere and it actually came at a perfect time… I gave myself a week in May to write the whole thing, because I felt that it was really important for this album to feel organic and feel really grounded and capture a moment in time.

SR: Putting limitations on yourself can sometimes really boost creativity – and art itself, I think, by the limitations. I think that has a lot to do with the kind of thought that’s involved, the analytical side of things can wreak havoc when overdone. When I record, I will record in completely new environments with all new people that I haven’t met before. Could be a total disaster, but it’s the act of creating these limitations that I think make for a kind of danger, it’s a kind of unknown territory. But that can also open things up in a way. It also makes me think of foraging.

This is kind of funny, but I have this kind of superstition where I always joke to myself that if I prepare too much to go out foraging, I’m not going to find what I’m looking for. It’s those moments when I’m really not even looking for that thing, or I’m open to whatever happens, that I find something good – and then I might not even have anywhere to put the stuff to take it back home. There’s a sort of magic in that. The limitations, that’s a really interesting idea all around I think.

HR: I totally agree with that.

SR: When you were approached with this idea for this album, did you immediately think, “Oh yeah, instrumental”? Or did you have to work this out in your brain, whether or not you were going to write songs or do it instrumental?

HR: Great question. My initial reaction was [all over the place]. I just had so many ideas, off the bat. I remember calling my sister after getting that email being like, “I can do this– Oh, could be a children’s album–, Oh, it could be this– Oh, it should be accessible for this…” But it came together slowly more and more. I got a bit more anxious about it and I was like, “Actually,
Let’s keep it simple.” Nobody’s asked me for anything. I can do whatever I want here. Nobody is asking me for songs. Nobody is asking me for tunes. Then I was like, “I don’t actually know enough to write songs that will feel authentic.” It feels almost icky to me, writing about something that’s a very precious thing that I actually don’t have the knowledge to back up.

So I thought, keep it simple. I’m going to write, I’m going to just capture each tune. I want to capture a feel of some sort of different species. I actually reached out to one of my dad’s colleagues, Pat Hickey, who he used to work with at Edinburgh. He’s a scientist still based in Edinburgh, but not at the university. He and my dad used to make all these beautiful videos of mycelium growing, time lapse videos of them growing under these incredible microscopes. I asked him if he could send me a bunch of stuff and I just started watching those and seeing what came up.

If it was going to be lyrics and if stuff was going to naturally come that way, great! But it wasn’t. It was just instrumentals. I thought, “Great. This is going to be an instrumental record.” Volume 2 might have lyrics, but it also might not. I might collaborate with a poet, somebody who does have more knowledge on this stuff.

I think it would have been a very interesting, different thing if I had gone down the lyric route – and that door is not closed. I’m super keen to, I think that would involve collaboration. I would love to work with someone who does actually know a lot about it.

SR: Before we go through a few of the tracks, the first thing I’m very curious to know is about the interludes, because the little bit I read about them was that they include dirt and bark decomposing. How were those sounds acquired? It’s very cool.

Hannah Read: My friend, Charlie Van Kirk, lives up in Round Pond, Maine. He and I have been collaborating for years, but I really wanted the album to have something else – rather than just instruments. I wanted the listener to be taken on a journey.

I feel like there’s millions of fiddle tune records out there, but I’m glad that you went for a walk and listened to it. For me, [the goal was] having tracks and links that pull you down to the underworld or the undergrowth, where your imagination can go wherever it wants to go. Like the sounds of leaves. I gave Charlie full creative control with this. He’s a percussionist as well. I just wanted him to just go for it and see where it took him and just break up the album [with] little breathers. I really trust him as a collaborator and his musical instincts. The next album, I think might have significantly more of those sounds, I think they’re a crucial part of the album.

SR: If it were a film, they would be like a sort of filter on a film. A certain color that sort of wraps all of the songs together.

Let’s go through the tracks. When “Silverphae” comes on I get this ominous sense from it, but not a sinister kind of ominous. It’s more like a mysterious kind of feeling, but also inviting, like there’s something to see here. “Panellus Dancer” is the next track, that’s the one that’s in waltz [time], so there’s obviously a connection with dance. Are you referring to the glowing mushroom in this?

HR: There’s this book, which was my dad’s, but there’s a whole section on bioluminescent mushrooms and there are videos that go with it. I’m actually going to share some of the videos online soon. They’re so beautiful, you’ll love them. They’re just amazing.

SR: Totally get that. It kind of reminds me of jellyfish actually, in a way – the grace of it all. And that was another feeling I got from it, there’s a mischievous that came up for me, a playfulness to it, and also joy. I love that one.

I thought “Stinkhorn” was funny, because I do have an experience with that mushroom and I think for most people, the smell comes to mind. But it’s such a celebratory song, I thought it was funny because what immediately came to my mind was kids smelling the stinkhorn and running to go get their friends. You know how kids do that? They love to have each other smell something that smells horrible. That was the image I was picturing, but why so happy about stinkhorn? Tell me about it.

HR: “Stinkhorn” is a bit of a curve ball in the record, because I know what a stinkhorn looks like. I know that they can be slightly repulsive. I just find them funny. They’re funny things. And I also just think the name “Stinkhorn” is a great old-time [tune] name. I was watching stinkhorn mycelium and it’s so beautiful, it’s absolutely stunning. These videos, it’s absolutely beautiful, it’s kind of the opposite of what the stinkhorn physical model looks like.

SR: I felt like it had to be some kind of comedy in there – and it is funny too. It makes me think of the phallic nature of a lot of mushrooms. It’s almost like nature is joking around, like it ran out of ideas to you know to for a unique design. So it’s like I’ll just use this. I got a kick out of that one.

The next song is definitely a departure from the last one, but I was curious about the title, “Celia.” Is that someone’s name or is that related to mushrooms somehow?

HR: That was related to mycelium!

SR: I wasn’t even paying attention to the title of the album when I was listening to it, but I wrote down a couple of things and one of them was “interconnectedness.” Also the mechanistic imagery of nature. In other words, these sort of woven tapestries – mycelium is like exactly what I’m describing here.

I remember I had a psilocybin experience a while back – I know a lot of people share this kind of thing too – where you’re seeing a lot of connectedness in things, like gears in nature. That’s what was going on in my head during “Celia.” So well done.

The next one, “Valley Fever,” from this I got a deep sense of solitude, almost like trying to shut out the noise of life and look closer. Which, is very much a common theme that comes over me in nature, but I felt like this one was powerful. It was like drawing me into a quiet that the other songs hadn’t necessarily done as much.

HR: That is very interesting. This one was written to create a lone feeling. It feels very Western. I was drawing from a few images that I’d been given that were quite orange and they felt like the desert. I was rolling with that. I was writing it [imagining] Utah, and a horse, like just a lone cowboy riding on a horse.

But the more I got into it, the more I was struggling with the name. Struggling, because that [western place] was where I’d been taken with it. I was like, “How does this link in? Is this random?” And then Edward [Wallace] was like, “There is a fungus that is only found in the desert, and it’s called Valley Fever.”

SR: That’s so cool.

HR: I feel like it does have a very lonely feeling and it feels sparse. And it feels sparse in the way we did it just fiddle and guitar and upright bass.

SR: I love that. This next song, “Nick’s,” is my favorite. I’m assuming that’s your father’s name? Nick? To me, this is the most melancholy song on the record. For me, melancholy is a different kind emotion than depression or sadness. It’s not those things. There’s a kind of sadness in it, but it’s almost like an acceptance at the same time. There’s a real beauty in that collective feeling, those things that work together to create that feeling of melancholy. It has a transient quality to it, too. It’s almost like a storm that comes in and is only there for a moment and then blows out, you know?

HR: God, well you nailed it on the head! That’s the one that I wrote the last day in the studio. I listened to everything else that we had done and I was like, “We’re missing this.” We need– I need this feeling. And that was the feeling. A feeling of a cathartic piece at the end of the album.

Because, it is a tribute for me. I wouldn’t have just made a mushroom-related album. I wouldn’t have come up with that if it hadn’t been for my dad. It wouldn’t be interesting. Why should I do that?

I didn’t know the rest of the order of the album at this point, but I knew I wanted to end the album with “Nick’s” and leave the listener with that [melancholy, cathartic] feeling. Because I feel like there’s also a hopefulness in that last track. It’s a very fragile piece for me.

The album came out 20th of October and on the 19th, the day before it released, I played the album at a launch show in Edinburgh. Played the whole thing top-to-bottom with the banjo player, Michael Starkey, who’s on the record, and Patrick Hickey, who I was talking about before, did a video for every track.

By the time it got to that last piece, it was so emotional. That piece is incredibly emotional to play, but it feels so important at that point, at the end of the whole suite. I was shocked and actually overwhelmed and very surprised to feel that way in the live performance. Suddenly, the emotions, I was trying to keep it together, but that’s what music is. That’s why I do this.

I’m really happy to hear that you enjoyed it, that’s a very special tune for me.

SR: I can imagine. I’m sure your father would be really proud of that – and of the whole record, but especially that one. Such a beautiful melody and you really captured the feeling.
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Photo Credit: Sean Rowe by Joe Navas; Hannah Read by Samuel James Taylor.

LISTEN: Mr Sun, “Shovasky’s Transmogrifatron” (from Duke Ellington’s Nutcracker Suite)

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Artist: Mr Sun
Hometown: Portland, Maine / Nashville, Tennessee / Brooklyn, New York
Song: “Shovasky’s Transmogrifatron” (Ballet Snow Scene)
Album: Mr Sun Plays Duke Ellington’s Nutcracker Suite
Release Date: December 1, 2023
Label: Adhyâropa Records

In Their Words: “Everybody’s familiar with the Nutcracker Suite, but there’s this really beautiful recording of Duke Ellington and Billy Strayhorn’s arrangement of it – it was a really joyful, playful reimagining of this classic piece… It was an easy idea to propose, not fully appreciating the amount of time it would take to do it. Luckily, everyone in the band brings a tremendous skill set to the project.” – Joe K. Walsh, mandolin

“They basically said, ‘We’re gonna take this essential seed of an idea, but we’re gonna play it like us.’ And we’re doing the same thing – we’re playing it like Mr Sun, without doing anything too verbatim. It’s all about being ourselves. That’s the impression you get from Ellington, and that’s a thing we very much are: Ourselves.” – Grant Gordy, guitar

“It sounds simple, ‘Let’s just play this big band arrangement with four stringed instruments.’ In practice it’s been a little more complicated!” – Aidan O’Donnell, bass

“Duke Ellington of course was volcanically creative. He was one of the most creative musicians ever. He was beyond category. Melody, harmony, and rhythm – if you can put those things together in a way that reaches people, it’s gonna be successful in a way that means something.” – Darol Anger, fiddle

Photo Credit: Dylan Ladds
Video Credit: Brian Carroll, Dos Gatos Filmworks