The first key to All the Not So Gentle Reminders, the sixth album by singer-songwriter David Ramirez releasing on March 21, is “Maybe It Was All a Dream,” the moody, elegiac song that opens his first LP in five years.
There are no lyrics to spell it out for the listener. It’s an instrumental, mostly a synthesizer riff over drums and a stately organ interspersed with a muffled, mysterious, and unintelligible voice. It’s more about mood – think Twin Peaks – than anything specific.
“The connection I have with it, which is a little too personal for me to share, it just felt right to open the record,” Ramirez said. “I had already gone into it knowing that I wanted some very long and dreamlike intros and outros to some of these songs. So it just seemed like a very fitting thing to have it all tie in by introducing the record with a musical number.”
The second key to the album is “Waiting on the Dust to Settle,” the second track, where Ramirez confides he doesn’t yet know where he’s headed.
“Amen, I can see it in the distance, the potential for a new beginning,” he sings. “I don’t recognize this place anymore … [I’m] waiting for the dust to settle.”
In our BGS interview below, you’ll learn the identity of the third key song on All the Not So Gentle Reminders, why it took so long to record and release the new material, and how the album’s lush string arrangements are a sign of the maturation of the artist.
The string arrangements on the album are very prominent, a counterpoint that duets with the lyrics. What brought that on?
David Ramirez: Yeah, for sure. I’ve never worked with strings before and just to kind of stay in the same lane of this dream world that I was trying to build, it made sense. … I’ve been doing this thing for a while now, but I feel like bringing strings into an album, I felt very adult for the first time. It felt good. It was really exciting.
Why did it take you five years to get this album out?
It was COVID and a breakup that kind of paralyzed me from being creative. I didn’t want to directly reference [the breakup]. There is one song on the album called “Nobody Meant to Slow You Down” that is direct from my last relationship. But the rest of it, I wanted to explore some other things.
You have Mexican heritage. Things are going badly for Mexicans and Mexican Americans — and immigrants and their families from many nations and backgrounds — in the U.S. now. Any reason you didn’t tackle that?
I have a couple of political tunes on past records and it’s something that I address during shows. This record for me, especially with the state of my heart recently going through a pretty big breakup that was extremely world-shaking for me, I didn’t want to put out for personal reasons a heartbreak record. … I did write some songs that were more social and politically heavy and I’m reserving those for an EP or my next album. I have this new song that I’ll release sometime later this year, called “We Do It for the Kids,” which is probably my most political tune to date and it’s a pretty heavy one.
To get the full effect of your songs, close attention must be paid to the lyrics. Is that a challenge during shows where people are also socializing?
I’m lucky enough to have people here in the states who’ve been following me for a while and they enjoy the lyrics. They enjoy how meditative it is. But the shows aren’t just that. I do not like going to see a songwriter and they sing for two hours and it’s just dark and depressing the whole time. So we mix in a lot of music from a lot of different records and make sure that there’s a dynamic and it’s fun and it’s funny and it’s upbeat.
Sure, there are slower and more contemplative moments. But we like to put on a show. … In Europe, they’re very polite and you can put on the most rocking show and they’re going to give you a golf clap. They’re there for the songs and the stories. So I generally have to curate a different set when I’m overseas.
You’re based in Austin, Texas. Did you grow up there?
I was born and raised in Houston, playing baseball growing up. It wasn’t until my senior year in high school that I met these fellow students who were all in theater and choir, and those relationships led me to stop playing ball and join choir and join theater and pick up an instrument and start writing my songs. I went to Dallas for a brief time to attend [Dallas Baptist University], and that’s where I started playing out in front of people for the first time, whether it was just open mics or the midnight slot at a metal club where they allowed an acoustic songwriter guy to show up and close out the evening. I was just so desperate to play that I didn’t really think twice about it. In 2007 and 2008 I lived in Nashville and then I moved here to Austin, Texas, in December of 2008 and I’ve been here ever since.
A third key track on the album is “The Music Man,” where you credit your father for helping spur you to make music.
“The Music Man” is a song I wrote about my father who gave me a Walkman when I was 10 years old. There are many people I can thank and [to whom I can] attribute my passion and my love for not just music itself, but for writing and performing it. But if I’m really upfront and honest, I think it goes back to when my father gave me his favorite cassette tapes and how that led to this life as a 41-year-old where I make records and tour the world full-time.
Who were the artists on those cassettes?
The Cars Greatest Hits. That’s obviously a rock band, but the song that I was so obsessed with was [the downbeat] “Drive.” Then I went to the Cranberries, and then to Fiona Apple, and then I went to Sarah McLachlan and that led to Radiohead.
… There’s this melancholy nature and mood that all those records have that at such a young age made a deep impression on me. I didn’t start playing music till seven, eight years after that, but by the time I did pick up a guitar or pick up a pen or piece of paper and start writing down my feelings, I think all those influences from such a young age really started to show their faces.
Any one artist in particular that inspired you to take up songwriting?
When I was 21 I got Ryan Adams’ Gold and that was just a big, massive influence musically for me. … That really locked in for the first time how I wanted to tell stories and what kind of stories I wanted to tell. Ryan and I don’t know each other, but his records led me to folks like Gillian Welch & Dave Rawlings, Neil Young, and Bob Dylan. He was the doorway to a lot of a lot of greats that weren’t really coming my way when I was in high school.
Are you comfortable with your music being categorized as Americana?
I don’t mind it, but I don’t really understand it either. If you say it’s Americana, people assume that it’s more country and I don’t feel that way at all. The more I do it, [I prefer] just “singer-songwriter,” because at least that offers freedom. Because every record I’ve released sounds different than the last. So at least with singer-songwriter, I can kind of have the freedom to evolve and change.
Growing up in a musical family, I was exposed to a lot of different sounds from an early age – a lot of them, not by choice. I had a dad who preferred country radio and led gospel music at our church. My mom played classical and Civil War songs on the piano daily while I played with my toys. Next were two older siblings using seniority to lord over the dials at every chance – they also both played classical piano.
As I got older and carved away at my own musical sensibilities, these dictates became accidental influences to the soundtrack of my life and shaped who I have become as a songwriter and musician. This playlist includes some early influences along with music that has turned me on for one reason or another, which I’ll do my best to explain. Thank you to everyone who has helped shape the soundtrack of my life so far, especially my family and mentors. – Nathan Trueb, Another Glory
“Surfer Girl” – The Beach Boys
Some of my earliest memories growing up involve the Beach Boys. I remember the Endless Summer cassette tape and its painted album cover distinctly. We would listen to it on road trips and I remember my dad and his friends playing guitars and singing these songs. My older brother got really into the Beach Boys and I remember he loved this song. Even though he told me he didn’t know why, but it made him sad. It also became my 2-year-old daughter’s favorite song and band.
“Why Not Me” – The Judds
As much as I didn’t want to like country music, it started to become harder to make excuses as to why just as soon as I started to play the guitar and take music more seriously. If you were to ask anyone in my grade school what music they liked, the only acceptable answer was, “Everything BUT country.” The more discerning my ear became I couldn’t deny the masterful playing and even, dare I say, “shredding” of the players on these then-contemporary records. The other thing that country brought to the table were some perfectly crafted, three-minute-and-twenty-nine second pop masterpieces like this one. Although I couldn’t show it outwardly to my family, I was rocking out on the inside.
“Black Cadillac” – Lightnin’ Hopkins
We used to go over to my uncle’s house from time to time when my mom was at work. On one visit, around the time when I had just started playing guitar, I found out my uncle played a left-handed acoustic guitar that I really admired. I also had no idea that he had been learning some blues and showed me a few licks and we jammed together. He had a few records laid out and this one leaped into my hands. He put it on and I couldn’t believe my ears. The voice, the guitar, the storytelling and humor. I did that thing where I didn’t let go of the record until my uncle suggested I take it home. I still play that same copy to this day.
“Going to California” – Led Zeppelin
I owe the most to my brother as a musical influence – I guess just influence in general. He was always there with the next record I needed to hear. It was a pipeline from his friends to him, him to me, and then me to my friends. I’ll never forget the day that he played me Led Zeppelin and it completely blew my mind. Growing up in a conservative household, I had never heard anything like it and everything changed after that. I became obsessed with Led Zeppelin like people get obsessed with Harry Potter or WWII. “Going to California” came to me around the time of first loves and I really got it. “Sell the Farm” off of the Another Glory record is a direct hat-tip to this song. I love the way it made me feel and how it still transports me to long phone calls in my attic room in the summer time.
“Michelle” – The Beatles
My first memorable crush was named Michelle. She was my sister’s friend and would visit our house often. We grew up on a farm and that meant that my brand of flirting was often hurtling cow pies at my sister’s friends. Somehow that first love was unrequited.
I remember a trip to the Puget Sound where my brother loaned me his Beatles 1962-1966 disc (the red one with the whole apple/cut apple on the compact disc), popping it in the Discman, putting the headphones on, and listening to that song over and over. I loved it, but it made me sad. Now I knew how my brother felt when he listened to “Surfer Girl.” I sing this song to my daughter and it’s still amazes me that they wrote it. Like, how? I’m sure there’s a story about it somewhere, but I don’t think I really want to know. My wife and I have been together since high school and the first time I visited her bedroom she had every single Beatles album in a dedicated, spinning CD tower.
“Naptown Blues” – Herb Ellis
My mom was driving me to school one day my freshman year and I had the local jazz radio station on, 89.1 KMHD. I think playing the guitar a lot when I was homeschooled for a couple years took me on a trajectory from Led Zeppelin to Steely Dan to trying to understand jazz by listening to the radio. This song came on as she dropped me off. I said, “I don’t know what this is, but I want to play like that.” Bless her heart, she must have written it down as the DJ read that title after the song ended (in their soft, publicly-funded morning voice), because I unwrapped this CD for my next birthday and I remember listening to it while I went to sleep until I had every part memorized.
“Don’t Think Twice, It’s Alright” – Bob Dylan
Speaking of girlfriends, my first real girlfriend in high school had an older brother who was a Dylan fanatic. I remember looking through his 72-disc Case Logic CD case. I opened up the first page, Dylan. Second page, Dylan. The entire thing was filled with Bob Dylan. He asked me if I was a fan and I remember saying, “not yet.” For some reason I had a feeling I might be someday.
Well, I don’t remember how, but when I moved out of my folks’ place this song hit me like a freight train. Dylan’s influence is so obvious in any modern music, especially when you are a guy fingerpicking a guitar, but we have to give credit where it’s due. I’d like my old girlfriend’s brother to know that I finally crossed the Rubicon.
“My Funny Valentine” – Bill Evans & Jim Hall
I’ve had a few guitar teachers in my life and had the pleasure of taking some lessons in college from Jerry Hahn. He had his own books and I think was a big fan of Jim Hall. He turned me on to this record and this style of walking bass with chords. He also taught me to keep a list of “must-have” or “must-find” records in my wallet for the record store. I still have a list to this day in my notes. He said this one should be on there. Years after taking from him, I found an original copy somewhere in California. This is one of my all-time favorite records.
“Run That Body Down” – Paul Simon
I got pretty into this record at some point and into Paul Simon’s writing in general. I used to have two enormous PA speakers that we used for band practice in my basement. Late at night I would sit between them and listen to music very loud. This song was on and the guitar solo caught me by surprise. I looked up the song to find out who played the solo. It was my old teacher, Jerry Hahn!
I ran into him at a jazz club not too long after and asked him about it. He recalled it perfectly and said he turned down the offer to come to the studio because he was “too busy.” They kept calling, so he went and remembered being frustrated. Take after take, Paul wasn’t getting what he wanted. Finally Jerry took the solo in a totally different direction, against his good sense, with the wah pedal and all. After the take Paul exclaimed, “That’s it!”
“One Mo’Gin” – D’Angelo
After listening to all of the Motown one can get their hands on, you start to wish there was more. Or, that it continued to evolve into modernity with class and style instead of flaming out, morphing into disco dances by designer drugs. Like when your parents started “raising the roof.” At some point you just have to put it down, like Old Yeller. Then decades later someone comes along who has filled themselves to the brim with that old tonic and others that had filled up on the same, and it comes spilling out in biblical proportions in a perfect statement. Voodoo is that album. D’Angelo is that prophet. I have listened to this record so much in my life that it’s hard to state exactly what influence it has had on me. “Fool For You” was a song written a long time ago and it was a direct attempt to do something in that vein.
“I Don’t Know” – Nick Hakim
As you get older it gets harder to get the same high from music that you did when stuff first really freaked you out – or maybe that’s just me. So, when you find that something or someone, it might become an instant obsession. Nick Hakim had that effect on me. I loved everything he was doing; it was so different, sonically, than most of the bedroom pop stuff or neo-soul. It felt like a modern psychedelic Voodoo, but also just heartbreakingly beautiful. His ability to mix his jazz-school-kid sensibilities with gospel and indie-rock set a high bar and still does.
“The Only Thing” – Sufjan Stevens
It seems that everyone has a favorite Sufjan. His prolific list of albums seem limitless in their scope and bending of genres. The only Sufjan for me is Carrie & Lowell. I don’t think there is an album that equals it in creating a soundtrack for sadness, grief, regret, love, life, and death – at least not that I have found. His lyrical imagery seems to be divinely inspired and it’s hard to pick one part of the song, so I’ll quote the first words:
The only thing that keeps me from driving this car Half-light, jack knife into the canyon at night Signs and wonders: Perseus aligned with the skull Slain Medusa, Pegasus alight from us all
“The Magician” – Andy Shauf
This song came on the radio while I was driving in Portland over a bridge with a view of the river and the city behind it. (I often remember an exact time I heard a song with perfect clarity. Maybe everyone does? “Mo Money Mo Problems” I was passing the Chevron on Molalla Ave., Oregon City, circa 2001.)
After the 8-bar intro to this intriguing new single on the local indie radio station, I nearly crashed my car. I instantly remember being like, “OKAY!” and banging my head when the beat dropped. It’s a perfect song to me and a perfect recording that is perfectly produced. You can’t say that about every song you love.
“If I’m Unworthy” – Blake Mills
Every guitarist sooner or later was exposed to Blake Mills. A friend of mine turned me onto his first album early, before all the hype, and I quickly became a fan. His songs and voice weren’t typical and were totally unique to him. I had watched a lot of videos of him playing and he quickly became the best living guitarist that I was aware of.
His long-awaited sophomore album was finally announced. When he came to town to support the record he was booked in a small room, seated. His name was so unknown I couldn’t find anybody to go with me. I also had inside knowledge that his then girlfriend, Fiona Apple, was likely to make an appearance. So I stood silently in line to the sold-out night and kept my mouth shut.
During his set, I popped out to the bar to get a drink and bellied up to the bar. I let the woman to my left go ahead of me. It was Fiona Apple. She laughed when I nearly spit out my drink. “If I’m Unworthy,” in the moment it was released, became the new “guitar song” for guitar nerds. Every single guitarist has to learn it, as a rite of passage; like Stevie Ray Vaughan or “Sweet Home Alabama.” The song is a snapshot of the Blake Mills that revolutionized guitar once again and then quickly retired, confounding dad-rockers with little tube amps and glass slides adorned to their fingers. Will the real Blake Mills please stand up?
“Body” – Julia Jacklin
MLK & N Fremont, near the Chevron. That’s where I first heard this song. Maybe I only have autobiographical, photographic memories of songs if they involve a gas station, specifically Chevron. We were riding in a friend’s Subaru, which we always drove around in. A peace-sign necklace swinging from her rearview mirror, rain hitting the windshield, the music always blasting. I had never heard the song before and I was all-in from the downbeat. Such a heavy song and so personal.
Julia’s lyrics make you feel like it was you yourself on that Sydney tarmac. And the haunting question, “Do you still have that photograph?/ Would you use it to hurt me?” Like the photograph, the song is naked and circles around a singular progression, building tension until finally quietly cracking open for some light at the end.
“I guess it’s just my life, and it’s just my body…” which, on the first listen, could sound sarcastic, but on the repeat she sounds relieved or at least vindicated. And of course it is probably both. The progression gives hope that this chapter of her life, or ours, is closed. In my experience, that is what a lot of good songs do: close a chapter for the artist and the listener.
“Are You Looking Up” – Mk.Gee
Not a secret any more. Still mysterious, but not just the guitar-guy in the Dijon video. Still shy, but now he’s in the spotlight. The leap from his 2018 album to Two Star & the Dream Police might as well have been a tightrope walk over the Grand Canyon. I loved the old stuff, but when I saw the live video of “Are You Looking Up” with Mk.gee hanging out of a tour bus or train car – whatever it was – I nearly fell out of my chair. I had a hard time explaining why to some who just heard Doogie Howser synths.
His way of playing might not sound outwardly complex or groundbreaking, but in my opinion, it is. Everything about the homespun, demo-quality recordings reminds of me of how a Wu-Tang record sounds completely superior to anything else on MTV at the time, not due to its polish, but rather its grit. Mike’s voice has the perfect dichotomy of rasp and softness. He has a unique ability to sing almost indecipherable lyrics over such memorable melodies that the words could be an afterthought, not unlike Bon Iver.
I had the pleasure of meeting Mike when he came through Portland. He is shy and a lot of lyricists seem to guard their lyrics due to insecurity, but the lyrics are so good, too. I see Mk.gee as the new guitar gunslinger with his outlaw jacket as his cape. He’s single-handedly doing for guitar what The Mandalorian did for Star Wars.
Artist:Early James Hometown: Birmingham, Alabama Latest Album:Strange Time to Be Alive Release Date: August 19, 2022 Label: Easy Eye Sound
How often do you hide behind a character in a song or use “you” when it’s actually “me”?
I’d say almost never. I have trouble writing about myself and not being honest. It’s gotta be known it’s me or else it isn’t therapeutic anymore.
Since food and music go so well together, what is your dream pairing of a meal and a musician?
Chet Atkins and chitlins.
Which artist has influenced you the most … and how?
I’d say Fiona Apple because her music is so honest and raw. I’ve always wanted to write melodies and lyrics like her.
What rituals do you have, either in the studio or before a show?
Before a show usually a couple beers or a shot of whiskey and a cigarette. In the studio coffee, cigarettes, and before a vocal take a shot of honey and hot sauce.
What other art forms — literature, film, dance, painting, etc. — inform your music?
Video games, honestly. There’s so much good music that I heard as a child before I ever had an understanding of genres or culture. Hearing it made it just a feeling. Now I can never go back to that because I know where the music comes from, but back then it was just magic.
Artist:Ric Robertson Hometown: Greensboro, North Carolina Latest album:Carolina Child
What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?
I attended second grade at Garden Ridge Elementary in Flower Mound, Texas. The twenty or so of us in my class put on a play about popcorn, some of us dressed as corn that had been popped, others of us were merely kernels. I was a kernel. My one line happened before the big final musical number, encouraging the other kernels, “WE CAN DO IT!” Then the song…
“Weeee can do it (POP! POP!) weeee can do it (POP! POP!) weeee can do it, if we try, try, try.”
What a thrill. Still waiting to pop.
What rituals do you have, either in the studio or before a show?
Ideally I spend the four days before a show without any sleep, alternating every hour between practicing didgeridoo circular breathwork techniques in the sauna and soaking in a bathtub filled with lukewarm matzah ball soup. Then I try to always miss soundcheck and arrive at the gig exactly 13 minutes before it starts. Finally, I look for all the emergency exit doors and fire alarms in the venue, and make sure to set them all off immediately before I walk on stage to create some excitement for the audience.
What was the first moment that you knew you wanted to be a musician?
I never wanted to be a musician, I just happen to be one. It’s working out alright, though I’m not sure I’d recommend it. The list of things I want to be grows bigger everyday, the last few additions being:
· kitesurfer · card-carrying member of the Bohemian Grove · cat
If you had to write a mission statement for your career, what would it be?
Break even.
Since food and music go so well together, what is your dream pairing of a meal and a musician?
Seven cheesy Gordita crunches from Taco Bell while watching a Justin Bieber livestream in bed. With napkins, of course. And a bowl of Fiona Apple Jacks for dessert.
Artist:Lula Wiles Hometown: Our band sort of has two hometowns: we started the band when we were all living in Boston, but we first played music together as tweens at Maine Fiddle Camp, located in Wabanaki (Penobscot) territory (“Montville, Maine”). New Album:Shame and Sedition Personal nicknames (or rejected band names): Personal nicknames — who’s who should be obvious: Buckles, Burkles, Boms. A rejected bandname that we still joke about… “Monkberry and the Moonlights,” inspired by the Paul McCartney song “Monkberry Moon Delight” off of Mali’s favorite album RAM. We’re so glad we didn’t go with that name… lol.
What was the first moment that you knew you wanted to be a musician?
Eleanor Buckland: I grew up playing music with my family and looking up to my dad, who is a professional musician, so I’ve sort of had a desire to be a musician as long as I’ve known that was a thing I could be. But, I do remember a specific Crooked Still show in Maine during my freshman or sophomore year of high school that made such an impression on me. During the show I felt almost sick with longing and from then on I knew I was doomed (ha!) for professional musicianship!
Mali Obomsawin: As a little kid I always just wanted to make people happy and make people laugh. I think I always was a performer, and I always loved words, and it just ended up being music that those things came through. I sang and improvised little poems and acted out a lot. When we would play games as kids, I would always come up with little songs and dances… and when we would play fairies or whatever I would always choose to wear this potato sack and be the “troll” character. I liked being the goofy one that got to do mischief and be different. Maybe this is telling… haha. My dad’s a musician too and there have been a lot of musicians in my family for generations… it was just normal to express yourself that way.
Which artist has influenced you the most … and how?
Isa Burke: My influences have shifted and cycled in and out constantly throughout my life. I’d say Gillian Welch/Dave Rawlings and Joni Mitchell are probably the most long-lasting influences if I really had to narrow it down. But honestly, I think many of the biggest influences on me have also been my friends, family, bandmates, collaborators, and people I’ve shared musical community with. I also tend to go through phases where I’m really devoted to one artist, and this past year I’ve been really inspired by Fiona Apple. She’s so liberated in the way she creates, it makes me feel more liberated, too. When I listen to her music or read interviews with her, it’s like she’s shaking me by the shoulders and reminding me that I can do whatever the hell I want.
Mali: Like Isa I go through phases… some of my biggest influences that might not be obvious from listening to Lula Wiles are Ornette Coleman and Charles Mingus. I got really into “avant garde” and free music at a young age and I think that has shaped my preferences and tendencies as a musician in so many ways. I also think on this album we were able to lean in a little bit more to those sounds that are exciting to me, harsher or more “raw” sounds juxtaposed with atmospheric/gentle/melancholy ones, leaving room in our arrangements for grit and breathability and improvisation. These are all things I associate with Mingus and Ornette — I especially have always been so inspired by Ornette’s gut-wrenching melodies. Just so human. I think Buffy Sainte-Marie had these piercingly honest sounds/qualities in her music too, but I didn’t really dig into her work until more recently. I dunno. These days I’m just loving indie rock, I’m not too proud to admit it!! Really sardonic or sarcastic songwriters like Rufus Wainwright and Randy Newman have been big influences for me. Aaaand, let’s see… Fleetwood Mac?
What other art forms — literature, film, dance, painting, etc. — inform your music?
Isa: I’d say my songs definitely draw from fiction and film. I love songs that feel like short stories or films — songs with specific, carefully chosen details that expand in the listener’s mind to create a vivid scene, a feeling, a narrative. I also love dialogue in lyrics — Joni Mitchell is a master of that, obviously. Sometimes when I’m writing, I try to imagine the song as a screenplay, or a film, or a novel. Where would this scene take place, what would the characters say to each other, how would it look and sound and feel? That helps me hone in on which of the various elements at my disposal (description, dialogue, details, images, sounds, melodies) can best tell the story and create the feeling I’m looking for. I also think on a more musical (non-lyrical) level, my sense of rhythm is definitely informed by dance. I’ve always loved dancing and a lot of my most formative musical experiences were based in instrumental fiddle music, which at its root is dance music. I move around a lot when I play and I try to write music that feels embodied, that physically feels good to play.
Mali: So many of my songs have been sparked by specific phrases or ideas in fiction novels and poetry. I get obsessed with the beauty or rhythm or texture of a few words juxtaposed against one another, and I adore word-play, and just sonic patterns or complimentary sounds. Language makes me so excited. It’s nerdy maybe. But sometimes when I read a line in a novel that expresses a specific feeling in a poignant or abstract way, it’s really euphoric. James Baldwin is an example pertinent to this album -– the big inspiration behind “In Dreams” … I’m still working my way through Baldwin’s work now, but I’m also pretty deep in listening to speeches by Black Panthers and other civil rights activists from that time. I think it’s odd how we compartmentalize art/genres sometimes, because these speeches are some of the best pieces of American literature ever created. Anyway, I digress. I think in colors and shapes when I play and compose music, but not specifically in the form of paintings or anything.
What’s the toughest time you ever had writing a song?
Eleanor: “Hometown” on our previous record, What Will We Do, was one of my hardest songs to write. I think this was because the story I was trying to tell in the song is so closely connected to my home and the people I love. I found it harder to get to the truth of the song than ever before, because I was so determined to do the story justice. Mali and Isa were both critical co-writers for this song and helped me more deeply understand and stay true to the heart of what I was trying to say.
Isa: I have a song called “Wild Geese” that has been torturing me since April 18th, 2017. On that day, I sat down and wrote a verse and a guitar riff in about five minutes and thought it was one of the best things I’d ever written, but I’ve never been able to finish it. As soon as I wrote it I knew it had to be the last verse of the song, so I’m working backwards. Every so often I’ll pull the song back out and bang my head against the wall for a while, but I can’t seem to write anything that lives up to that one verse. I’ve even finished and scrapped a couple of full drafts (we actually recorded a rough version of one of them during the sessions for What Will We Do). I’ve always ended up getting rid of everything except that one verse. I can’t let that verse go. It haunts me! Maybe it’s just supposed to be a really short song — hopefully you’ll hear it someday.
What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?
Mali: Hmmm… the time Tim O’Brien introduced us as Lula Whales? There was another time we made Ellie eat a hot dog onstage in San Francisco on her birthday.
Eleanor: That was possibly my favorite birthday show ever. Isa and Mali surprised me with a hot dog onstage, since I love hot dogs and I am teased mercilessly for it. That same night, we also got pranked by our drummer, who had the sound guy at the Freight & Salvage play one of our TOP van jams, “Twang” by Mason Ramsey (featured in our playlist) as our walk-on music. It was awesome.
Artist:Amigo the Devil Hometown: Austin, Texas Latest Album:Born Against Personal nicknames: I’ve never had any past preschool and that was only one kid who called me Daniel Cocker Spaniel. It destroyed me. I mean utterly wrecked me at the time.
What other art forms — literature, film, dance, painting, etc — inform your music?
I enjoy reading a lot, always have. Lately I’ve been trying to dive into subjects that I’m not usually interested in or genuinely don’t know much about and have been finding that, well, apparently they’re still not my thing ha ha. At least giving it a shot helps me narrow where the passion genuinely lives. Film has always been an important factor in my life, just as much as literature I would say. I’m a big fan of visual portrait films like Ashes and Snow, Baraka, Naqoyqatsi and aesthetic systems like the Cremaster series. Jodorowsky, Yorgos Lanthimos, and Takashi Miike are responsible for most of my favorite movies as actual storyline films. I also love rom-coms. I don’t care how corny they are, they wreck me and I love it. Horror used to be the go-to while growing up, but I think that’s changed quite a bit lately. Still love a classic campy experience though.
What’s the toughest time you ever had writing a song?
I always hear stories of people writing three songs in a day or dreaming up these beautiful hits in their sleep. I’ve unfortunately never had the joy of these moments. Although some songs “write themselves” more than others, I always have a hard time with every single song when it comes to finally calling it a finished product. Whether it’s my curiosity or doubt that keeps me grounded right before the final hurdle, it’s always a “tough” time. There’s actually one quote by Mark Twain that I remember shifting my confidence immensely. “The difference between the almost right word and the right word is really a large matter — it’s the difference between the lightning bug and the lightning.” Ever since that day, it’s been a brutal journey wondering which of the two I have in the lyrics I’ve written. See, not all knowledge is helpful.
Since food and music go so well together, what is your dream pairing of a meal and a musician?
I’m going to go with Ray Sawyer of Dr. Hook on this one. One, because I think they’re the #1 band I wish I was able to see live (and he’s my favorite member) and two, because I think he’d be a blast at a dinner party. I’m not saying that I would Lady and the Tramp a hot dog with him, but also not saying I wouldn’t. Dinner-wise though, I feel like Ray was as complicated an individual as he was simple. I’d start with gumbo loaded with smoked alligator (one we pulled ourselves from Lake Eufaula after a long night of mescaline)…move on to a dry-aged ribeye cooked directly on the coals and sit it in a bordelaise with a side of brown butter-sautéed endive (for health measures) and raclette over potatoes. There’s no room for dessert so we just slam some coffee and hit the town.
What rituals do you have, either in the studio or before a show?
Rituals always seemed like a guaranteed way to set yourself up for failure. Since a ritual is basically just a glorified routine, once that routine becomes psychological, both your conscious and subconscious mind depend on it…so what do you do when you don’t have access to elements you need? I feel like that’s when we see people start to freak out and convince themselves that something is going to go wrong because x, y and z didn’t happen. Granted, these are just my dumb opinions but it always seems like rituals tend to get more and more intricate with time which leads to extravagant demands and unnecessary adjustments for a superstition.
How often do you hide behind a character in a song or use “you” when it’s actually “me”?
Someone recently pointed out that I never sing from a third-person and very rarely a second-person perspective. Almost all the lyrics (that are based on people) are “me” and “I.” After thinking about it for a while, the only conclusion I can come to is that since most of the songs are stories that I’m putting myself into someone else’s shoes to write, the perspective carries over. I think there is also some level of accountability that feels more honest, especially when talking about taboo subjects. It’s too easy to shift the blame along with the perspective. It’s the “asking for a friend” complex when trying to avoid shame. When talking about topics that are hard for people to bring up, it’s important to me that there is a human element and a personal touch of admittance. That association and acceptance tends to bring the much greater reward of growth and learning. Shifting that blame will always leave you floating around a boxed-in world like a rubber duck in a hot tub.
Artist:Ervin Stellar Hometown: Grand Rapids, Michigan Latest Album:Nothing to Prove
Which artist has influenced you the most … and how?
Bob Dylan. I don’t know why I was initially drawn to his music, I was probably 14 or so. It felt like hearing the truth. Such word-crafting and an indifference to pop culture standards or expectations. He’s an artist I can continually go back to and never grow out of.
What other art forms — literature, film, dance, painting, etc. — inform your music?
Film more than anything else. P.T. Anderson, Wes Anderson, Éric Rohmer, the Coen Brothers — I aspire to write songs as cinematic as their films. They all seem to take place in a particular era, with an aesthetic that colors the experience in the same way time ages a Polaroid, it’s as we see that time period from the present.
What rituals do you have, either in the studio or before a show?
Past rituals include getting stoned beyond recognition and trying to perform from a lucid dream state. This produced inconsistent results with varying levels of quality control. But these days I just like to be comfortable, at ease and without overthinking it. Letting the spirit of the sound move through me with as little resistance as possible.
Which elements of nature do you spend the most time with and how do those impact your work?
I like the earth and water elements. Waves and mountains. The impact is spiritual, rather than literal or lyrical. My connection to this celestial body circling the sun and the infinite universe is most clear when I’m far away from civilization’s hum.
If you had to write a mission statement for your career, what would it be?
This feels a lot like writing a five year plan (which I’ve never done). I don’t believe my “career” needs a mission statement. It should be enough to just write the songs — and their reason for being is largely irrelevant. There is no mission, but I do find joy in other people’s experience of my music. They can’t know everything a song means to me, and vice versa, but still there’s a shared conduit of energy that connects us.
As sisters, our deepest musical influences come from the shared “Crock-Pot” of our household. Our mom is a classical singer and choral director, and daughter of an eccentric music-savant with an encyclopedic knowledge of Gilbert and Sullivan. Our Amish-born dad was raised in the shape note choral tradition, but flew the coop and became a guitar-plucking singer-songwriter in the vein of Paul Simon and Dan Fogelberg. We were raised on music with an emphasis on voice — Joni Mitchell, Carole King, Ella Fitzgerald and loads of art songs and choral music from all over the world.
We began playing together as a cover band, dipping into our teen favorites, from TLC to the Andrews Sisters, Sparks to ’90’s boy bands. Now that we’re writing our own music we’re pulling from an even broader scope, from the Brazilian and West African percussion Rachel studied in college to Amelia’s obsession with ’80s French pop to Rosie’s deep love of classic rock radio hits.
This playlist is a sampling of vocal-centric artists that straddle the line between various types of pop and folk music that are either currently playing on our speakers, or artists whose DNA flows through the music we make. — Call Me Spinster
Pinc Louds – “Soul in My Body”
I stumbled across this band only recently and am obsessed. The power and vulnerability of Claudi’s voice is mesmerizing, and I love their use of raw percussive sounds like the kalimba, held together with synthy glue. – Amelia
DakhaBrakha – “Baby”
DakhaBrakha formed as an avant-garde theater phenomenon in Kiev, and pulls together folk traditions and soul/pop in a way I’ve never heard before. I love the combination of acoustic instruments like harmonica, glockenspiel and bowed cello/bass with some electric twangs throughout. – Amelia
Call Me Spinster – “Morning”
This song began as a sort of call and response, a cappella lullaby. We toyed around with the idea of keeping it that way, using only body percussion. As we started building it, though, Rachel started hearing a samba-style bateria. As layers quickly snowballed, we started calling it our “Lion King song,” including elements like strings and cymbals that aren’t elsewhere on our EP — but still built around that simple vocal call and response. – Amelia
Fiona Apple – “Hot Knife”
I first listened to this song when a friend told us to cover it — but we didn’t dare touch it, because it is perfect. Fiona Apple’s frenzied energy building in layers and countermelody, on top of a rumbling drum and dissonant keys makes me feel like a sleepless night after a killer date when you feel like your heart might shake down the walls of the apartment. – Rosie
Zap Mama – “W’happy Mama”
Zap Mama was a staple of our combined middle/high school CD collection and one of the most memorable groups we’ve seen live. It’s a group of badass women led by “Zap Mama” Marie Daulne who mix pop, jazz, and folk. They’re living proof that voices can be anything and all other instruments are extra party. That party brings in elements of funk and hip-hop throughout the song, but goes back to a cappella sounds at the end, reminding you what the true elements are. “Chante, chante, she say, she say.” – Rosie
Rubblebucket – “On the Ground”
I have listened to this album on repeat over the past few years. It makes me dance and cry. Kalmia Traver’s honest and unfettered vocals feel like a best friend reminding me to look around once in a while and stop taking things so f-ing seriously. – Amelia
Cocteau Twins – “Iceblink Luck”
Heaven or Las Vegas is one of my favorite complete albums of all time. Elizabeth Fraser’s uber-melodic, acrobatic vocals were the obvious draw for me, but as we incorporate more electronic elements into the songs we’re working on for our first full-length record, I am paying closer attention to their perfect cocktail of dreamy distortion. – Amelia
Les Rita Mitsouko – “Marcia Baïla”
Catherine Ringer is one of the most balls-to-the-wall performers ever, not only in her vocal style, but [also] the weird visual worlds that she and Fred Chichin created over the years. If you haven’t seen the music video for this song or for “Andy” do yourself a favor. We are often drawn to artists whose visual aesthetic seems inextricable from their music: Kate Bush, Tyler the Creator, FKA Twigs, etc. – Amelia
Lim Kim – “Awoo”
One of the driving forces for finding new music is making playlists for my yoga classes. “Awoo” has a way of wiggling into many — it has the perfect blend of joyful yet meditative vocals and groovy yet simple rhythm. I love when the voice can be a percussion instrument without sounding like an a cappella group. Janelle Monae and Kimbra also nail this vibe. Lim Kim just hits right every time. – Rachel
Alabama Shakes – “Gimme All Your Love”
This album took us by storm as it did so many — and we keep coming back to it again and again, particularly as we began our recording journey. Brittany Howard has the rare ability to harness the raw energy of her live performance in the studio, and the pacing and build of her songwriting is so unusual and satisfying, like the turn in the middle of this song and the build towards the end. – Amelia
Björk – “Hyperballad”
Björk gives us all permission to feel epic feels with few words and ear-dazzling, diverse orchestration. She has been hugely influential for us and so many artists across genres for multiple decades, probably even in bluegrass. I would love to hear a banjo choir re-make of her album Post — just sayin’. – Rachel
Juana Molina – “Al oeste”
Juana Molina has this super sexy and intimate way of singing that feels almost like the microphone is lodged inside of her. Her songwriting always has a trance quality, with a wink. It lulls you into a dream and then adds a tickle to make sure you’re really listening. – Rachel
Judee Sill – “The Lamb Ran Away with the Crown” (Remastered)
We had to include at least one of the great earnest singer-songwriters of the ’60s/’70s, and who better than the enigmatic, bank robber-theosophist-composer Judee Sill? One of our own songwriting tendencies is writing singable songs that have something sneaky lurking underneath — a disjointed rhythm, an odd structure, an unusual chord progression… perhaps this is the ghost of Judee. – Rachel
Lucy Michelle – “Heart Race”
We grew up falling asleep to our dad picking guitar in the living room and this pattern mixed with Lucy’s lilting and beautifully raw voice is everything that is home. – Rosie
The Roches – “Hammond Song”
I also play in a band called Holy Sheboygan and our first gig ever was in Hammond, Wisconsin’s (pop. 2000) Earth Day Celebration. The lady who hired us pleaded for us to cover “Hammond Song.” We haven’t yet, but we did fall in love with The Roches. The shout-singing style is very reminiscent of our Amish family’s shape-note vocal production, the cascading almost choral songwriting, shameless unisons (#sistergoals), and the drone all fit right in to our sisterhood of sounds. – Rachel
It was difficult to narrow it down to just 12, but here are some songs that were turning points for me as an artist. Songs that made me first realize, and then remember, why I love music. I also hear songs and keys in color. Although it might sound strange all twelve of these songs have aspects that sound purple to me. Enjoy!
Jeff Buckley – “Grace”
My friend Izzi Ray told me about Jeff Buckley over lunch about four years ago. Being late to the game, as I usually am, I didn’t listen to a single song of his until a couple years later. I’ll never forget how astonished I was at his voice. Then come to find out what an innovative guitar player he was. It haunted me for months. Specifically “Grace.”
Radiohead – “Paranoid Android”
“Paranoid Android” was one of the first radio songs I listened too. I’m constantly inspired by how freely Thom Yorke creates and sings his melodies. This is one of those melodies.
Emmylou Harris – “Deeper Well”
“Wrecking Ball” was a life-changing record for me and continues to be in my top 10 favorites. The lyrics of “Deeper Well” make for a perfect song in my opinion.
Fiona Apple – “Fast As You Can”
I’ve never felt cooler than when I walk down the side streets of Los Angeles listening to this song blaring in my headphones. It’s also my airplane turbulence song. It shed a completely new light on songwriting, and songwriting tempos for me. I’ve always felt it was hard to say something important in a fast song. Fiona proved me so wrong.
Joni Mitchell – “Both Sides Now”
Joni was the first person who made me really want to be a songwriter. She set the bar so unreachably high that she made so many of us want to do our best even if we came just short of it. This song is one of few that make a timeless statement that could be sung by a 19-year-old and an 80-year-old.
Bob Dylan – “Just Like a Woman”
Here’s another example of a song that I think is absolutely perfect. Not a word or note wasted.
Ry Cooder – “Tattler”
Ry is another one of my guitar heroes. “Tattler” is my favorite song by him.
Nina Simone – “Feeling Good”
Nina Simone can’t play or sing a wrong note. All of her mistakes were in key somehow. Any song she plays instantly pulls me in. No other rendition of “Feeling Good” matches the sorrow, and power of this one.
Maurice Ravel – “String Quartet in F Major”
This is maybe one of my favorite pieces of music. I heard Chris Thile play it on Live From Here for the first time and it lifted me out of my seat.
Brian Wilson – “Don’t Talk”
This one makes me tear up almost every time. The melodies and voicings on this tune are such a beautiful mystery to me. And the lyrics convey the power of not saying anything and resting in the arms of the person you love
Rufus Wainright – “Poses”
On my way back from the Sundance film festival it started to snow. My friend Mike and I made a wrong turn; as we found our way back he turned this song on. When it was over I asked him if he’d mind if we played it again.
Juana Molina – “Lo Decidi Yo”
Juana is one of my favorite guitar players/writers. She’s truly one of a kind. I listened to one song by her called “Eras” on repeat for four years straight until I uncovered the rest of her record. Here’s one of my belated discoveries.
Name: Boo Ray Hometown: Western Mountains of North Carolina Latest album:Sea of Lights Personal nicknames (or rejected band names): “During the few-years span that I just couldn’t seem to stay out of jail, the other incarcerated guys that I gambled with on Spades and Tonk called me ‘Boot-a-rang.’ I didn’t ever bother to correct ‘em. In grade school, my very first band was also called Rhythm & Booze; it was a 4 piece band and Marshall Tucker’s “Can’t You See” was a feature of our set.”
What other art forms — literature, film, dance, painting, etc — inform your music?
Ahh that’s a cool question… Well, it might could be that Southern writers like Harry Crews, Ron Rash, and Mark Twain make me think it’s important to have a writing voice, and that there’s something powerful and magic about the just right combination of words used to tell the truth of our human experience.
I knew this guy everybody called Mr. Jack that ran a sawmill-–an old V-Twin Harley motor bolted to a 12″x12″ post frame and a great big 15-foot 2″ bandsaw blade that pitched and twisted so wildly when it ran that it just seemed impossible it could have ever made a straight cut. But it did cut 18-foot-long, perfectly straight slices off the huge logs he used to run through that mill. He’d cut some 1/4″ thin cedar for me to use as lining on chests. The way Mr. Jack cussed at and about his sawmill, the logs, the lumber and his equipment, expressed his passionate care, deep affection, forgiving humor and humble mastery of his industry. I suppose my affection for the way Mr. Jack carried on about his sawmill might be responsible for my cussin’.
My great buddy, artist James Willis, is constantly teaching me about perspective and how to use detail and lack of detail as creative storytelling devices. Sean Brock’s amazing passion, depth of knowledge, agrarian approach, his wood coal cooking and his completely inclusive use of information, style, technique, perspective and philosophy, have certainly influenced me.
If you had to write a mission statement for your career, what would it be?
The point of the spear is compassion, inspiration and empowerment. I’m compelled to express to my fellow man that the troubles of life are not for nothing. The singer-songwriters that have moved me the most write songs that are part of the classic American songbook. So the purpose of my endeavor as a singer-songwriter is to land some songs, or a song, in the classic American songbook, whatever that is. I think that songbook includes songs by Lowell George, Leon Russell, John Hiatt and Fiona Apple. My favorite Grateful Dead record is the one that Lowell George produced, Shakedown Street. The word “Pop” ain’t necessarily blasphemy to me, unless it’s in front of the word “country”…
After writing the songs my mission is to perform the songs with my badass guitar-slingin’ band and build a dynamic, powerful and unique live sound around the character and nature of each of the songs. Live performance is more important to me than recording records, but I use the records as templates, stylistically, and to suggest possible arrangements. For me, the style itself demands that the records are exciting soundscapes, and experimental in the recording and engineering. If my records sound like someone else I’ve fallen short.
For me the singer-songwriter/guitar band-sound bar is set by acts like: Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, Little Feat, ZZ Top, Marty Stuart & His Fabulous Superlatives, any of John Hiatt’s bands (from The Goners and Little Village to his Trio), and Jason Isbell & The 400 Unit. So what’s my mission statement? I want to be Jerry Reed.
Boo Ray & Sean Brock
Which elements of nature do you spend the most time with and how do those impact your work?
I don’t spend enough time on/in the water lately. As a kid, I was at the river every week and in the woods all summer long. Sunrises and sunsets are important to me. I really tried to get up to my buddy Sean Minor’s for spring branding and spend some time roping, riding and working cattle this year, but had shows and sessions I couldn’t get out of. I like to do tractor work, eat homegrown tomatoes, negotiate the price of a late ’50s step-side GMC truck or dispute the shape of the taillights on a ’68 Chevelle while cracking pecans against each other, and get caught in a torrential downpour and soaked to the bone after doing some farm work.
Since food and music go so well together, what is your dream pairing of a meal and a musician?
Agreed, and I totally dig a supper club-type show. How about Sean Brock doing some kind of Low Country spread with Ossabaw pork sock-sausage, rice peas, Geechie Boy Grits with a fresh catch, and some kind summer vegetables, with Billy Gibbons giving his take on Hill Country Blues. Billy and Sean are both great historians, passionate technicians and intuitive as hell. That’d be the dream pairing.
How often do you hide behind a character in a song or use “you” when it’s actually “me”?
The artists I like definitely seem to have character-driven numbers in their repertoire: Tom Petty’s “Break Down” and “American Girl,” Eddie Rabbitt’s “I Love a Rainy Night,” and Don Williams “Tulsa Time,” written by Danny Flowers. Those kind of songs hold you up as a performer and don’t require you to emote and be so intimate, at least for three or four minutes at a time anyways. Sometimes I might jokingly introduce “Redneck Rock & Roll” as a song that I wrote first-person as Kenny Powers. But I certainly do keep a few of those songs in my set: “I Got the Jug,” “Johnny’s Tavern,” “Six Weeks in Motel”, even “Sea of Lights” is that way now, most of the time. There’ve been a few times that singing “Sea of Lights” made me involuntarily weep and cry…
On the “you”/”me’ thing; I saw this Mary J. Blige performance once, she was singing this devastated lovesick number and my heart was just broken for her, you know? Then in the last chorus, nothing left but ashes and pain, she flips the script on the “you”/”me” switch and starts singing “bye bye” and waving as she left, and I realized she was singing my blues, and she was the one that was leaving. I was leveled. It was like a damned magic trick she’d just performed. I’ve tried variations of that writing device in my songs “Constantina,” “Six Weeks in a Motel,” and the “Hard to Tell” collab with Lilly Winwood all have a moment where they pivot or twist like that a little bit.
Photo of Boo Ray: Courtesy of Sideways Media Photo of Boo Ray with Sean Brock: Price Harrison
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