Artist:Folk Bitch Trio Hometown: Melbourne, Australia Latest Album:Now Would Be A Good Time (out July 25, 2025)
(Editor’s Note: Answers have been supplied by Gracie Sinclair.)
What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?
A memory that will forever glow in my mind is one from our first ever show. We were 18, 18, and 17, and it was at the Merri Creek Tavern in Northcote, Naarm / Melbourne on the 17th of December. We now consider it the FBT Birthday.
The tavern has a tiny back room that fits about 50 people, with a little red curtained stage that is as wide as the narrow room. We all had good amounts of stage experience under our belts by that time doing other things, but it was all of our first times performing anything that we had written. The adrenaline, vulnerability, and one pint in my 17-year-old whip frame held us all up in the air. I knew secretly in my heart that we were on to something special then. Even if no one else in the room had liked it. It’s also now still the set of my stage performance dreams where I am running around looking for Jeanie and Heide, late to start our set…
What rituals do you have, either in the studio or before a show?
We have the ritual of locking in. What this intangible act is changes depending on the situation, but it means that when we go in to sing together we are aligned. This can look like having a special sing backstage, or watching a movie on the couch together at night. But we don’t really compromise on being a unit before we do anything.
What has been the best advice you’ve received in your career so far?
I had a very influential teacher when I went to a performing arts school for my last two years of school, who one day in the middle of a lesson said to our class – and at the time she was mainly talking to classical pianists and violinists, etc. Rather impromptu she said: “Don’t do music if you think you can do anything else. Don’t do it if you think you want to or could become a teacher or a doctor or a lawyer. Do it if and because it’s the only thing you can do.”
That has always stuck with me. I feel like she was speaking about the matter of the heart. (Would I, deep down, be secretly disappointed later in life if I hadn’t chosen working in music performance avenue?) But also she was speaking about playing to your strengths.
The further that we get into this career the more I resonate with this thought. Music performance, music writing, and the ability to creatively collaborate are all strengths that we have, but also the ability to be away from home for long times, be performers on stage and in front of the camera, run the show and run the business. All the aspects of being in a band that you wouldn’t expect, we also excel at.
I’m an excellent bartender, but I have the rare seed in me which loves to be on stage and bring everyone together. So that is the card I will play.
Does pineapple really belong on pizza?
I think Jeanie and Heide disagree with me on this one. Yes. Apologies to Italy. It’s a perfect abomination. Thank you Canada for that one, it’s very popular in Australia. People will outwardly rag on it and then you’ll see them having a slice later. I prefer it without onion. Think of a really nicely done one, with proper ham instead of shredded. It’s good!!
What’s one question you wish interviewers would stop asking you?
We get asked about our name. A lot. We get it. We love it. We are glad it seems to influence our reputation preceding us. I think sometimes the humour of it evades people, but most people get it. It was a joke that stuck because it’s simply the truth, but we are all three interesting musicians who have a lot to say about our craft and its annoying when we get less time to talk on that.
On this episode of Basic Folk, Kora Feder talks about her new album, Some Kind of Truth, and reflects on the incredible changes and growth she’s experienced since we last spoke in February 2020. One of the impacts of the pandemic on her music career was the necessity of exploring other artistic ventures – like crafting hats and lino-cutting. She relocated from Philly to California, finally settling in Detroit. Daughter of songwriter Rita Hosking, Kora went slightly viral during the height of COVID lockdowns thanks to her song “In a Young Person’s Body.” In the poignant composition she pays tribute to John Prine and old friends she hasn’t spoken to in years – and somehow still captured incredibly well.
Elsewhere in our conversation, Kora discusses the passing of her grandparents, who she moved back to California to be with before they died. Their lives and deaths deeply influenced the new record. She opens up about the nuances of her gender identity, the importance of historical friendships that allow for unfiltered creativity, and her approach to writing both personal and political songs. We go through many of the tracks on the new project, including what I think is the best breakup song I’ve ever heard, “Paragraphs.” Kora Feder is a really incredible leave-you-breathless songwriter, particularly with her political writing. Here’s hoping that she doesn’t wait five more years to release a record, because we’re gonna need her.
My gourd banjo journey began on a crisp, winter day in downtown Ithaca, New York. While an undergrad at Ithaca College early in my banjo-playing days, I stopped by the local acoustic instrument store and saw a peculiar banjo-like creature hanging high up on the wall. I was instantly hooked. It had five strings and a short drone string just like my banjo. I could play the same clawhammer style I was familiar with, but everything felt and sounded different. The instrument had an earthy, plunky, and rich tone. Besides being completely fretless and tuned a few steps low, the head was made of a gourd that smelled like dirt. Flash forward 15 years and here I’ve just released an album of solo, unaccompanied gourd banjo music called Old Growth.
These days, I play a gourd banjo built by Pete Ross, an immensely talented banjo maker who lives in my hometown of Baltimore, Maryland, a town full of banjo history. The first professional banjo maker in the world, William Boucher, set up shop in Baltimore in the mid-19th century. The neck of this banjo, notably the scroll-shaped headstock, is modeled after the Boucher style. In addition to being a tool for creative exploration, the gourd banjo serves as a prism into the complex history of the banjo. It’s a reliable conversation-starter everywhere I go. For more on banjo history, I encourage you to read Well of Souls by Kristina Gaddy.
While compiling this list, I was struck by the sheer variety in tone and texture possible with the gourd banjo. While the instrument connects to the early roots of old-time music, it continues to serve as a platform for innovation. Every player is unique. This list features gourd banjoists from around the world playing traditional and original material. Let’s go on a deep dive into the gourd banjo! – Brad Kolodner
“Josie-O” – Adam Hurt
Arguably the most influential gourd banjo album of our time, Adam Hurt’s Earth Tones is sublime. Cover to cover, this is a dreamy album of solo gourd banjo pieces and it’s on regular rotation at my house. Adam is one of today’s most influential clawhammer banjo players and there’s no question his gourd banjo playing, and this album specifically, introduced the gourd banjo to much wider audiences inspiring countless musicians along the way.
“Old Growth” – Brad Kolodner
The title track of my new album Old Growth is a dark, spooky tune I wrote in the depths of winter, yearning for those sun-filled summer days in the vibrant forests just north of town. I tuned my banjo extra low on this track, hence the extra mellow vibes. The title speaks to the seemingly ancient sound of the gourd while nodding to how this music continues to evolve.
“Julie” – Rhiannon Giddens
A song inspired by a conversation between an enslaved woman and her mistress during the Civil War, Rhiannon Giddens’ use of the gourd banjo is particularly poignant on “Julie.” Rhiannon is a tremendous ambassador for the banjo. She’s reframing the conversation around the history of the instrument and the role Black folks have played and continue to play in American Roots music. The early incarnations of the banjo made by enslaved Africans were gourd banjos.
“Rolling Mills” – Pharis & Jason Romero
Based in Horsefly, British Columbia, Pharis & Jason Romero build some of the most gorgeous (gourd-geous?) banjos in the world. Jason Romero built the gourd banjo he’s playing on this track. Both are immensely talented musicians who take great care in their instrument building and songcraft.
“Darling Cora” – Nora Brown
One of the most exciting young banjo players on the scene today, Nora has a deep reverence for the roots of old-time music. Her playing is absolutely sublime. She plays a gourd banjo very similar to mine also built by Pete Ross in Baltimore. All gourd banjos are handmade, which gives each one a unique sound.
“Long Hot Summer Days” – John Showman & Chris Coole
Chris Coole is a banjo hero of mine and his gourd banjo playing on this John Hartford track fits perfectly. The slinky nature of the fretless gourd truly embodies those sluggish long, hot summer days.
“Gourdness” – Arnie Naiman
Arnie is one of Canada’s finest banjo players and a clever tunesmith to boot. I first heard his playing on the compilation album The Old Time Banjo Festival produced by Cathy Fink & Marcy Marxer.
“Goodbye, Honey, You Call That Gone” – Jake Blount
Ok so, technically, Jake isn’t playing a gourd banjo on this track. He’s playing a fretless banjo with nylon strings which sounds an awful lot like a gourd banjo. The next incarnation of the banjo in the mid-19th century after the gourd banjo was along the lines of what you’re hearing on this track.
“Four and Twenty Blackbirds Dancing on a Deer Skin / Twin Sisters” – Teilhard Frost
Teilhard Frost resides on Wolfe Island in Ontario and is a longtime member of the band Sheesham, Lotus & Son. He set out to build gourd fiddles many years ago and now specializes in gourd and tackhead banjos.
“The Rain Done Fell on Me, Pt. 1” – Justin Golden
Primarily known as a blues guitarist and songwriter, Justin Golden plays a mean gourd banjo. Based in Richmond, Virginia, Justin is a gem of a human – and he’s been going through a real challenging time as he’s currently battling stage 4 cancer. There’s a GoFundMe for him here.
“Wild Bill Jones” – Ken & Brad Kolodner
When my father Ken and I first started making music together nearly 15 years ago, we figured the fiddle and banjo would be the core focus of our music. We soon realized the percussive nature of the hammered dulcimer and the drive of clawhammer mesh together beautifully. The gourd banjo adds yet another dimension to this unusual texture, especially when cranked up to the tempo of “fast.” That’s Ken Kolodner on hammered dulcimer, Rachel Eddy on guitar, Alex Lacquement on bass, and myself on gourd banjo.
“Western Pine” – Talise
In compiling material for this list, I came across this lovely original song by the Canadian artist Talise featuring gourd banjo. I’m excited to dig more into her work!
“Jagged Mountain Is on Fire (Gourd Banjo)” – Andrea Verga
Born and raised in Italy, Andrea Verga is one of today’s most inventive and creative clawhammer banjo players. He writes adventurous melodies; this tune is inspired by the jagged peaks of the Dolomite Mountains in Andrea’s home country.
“Ard Aoibhinn / The Hunter’s Purse” – Steve Baughman
Steve is one of today’s most influential Celtic fingerstyle guitar players – he’s also one of the most creative banjo players out there. He even plays clawhammer on guitar! This medley features a pair of Celtic tunes played on gourd and mandolin.
“Pompey Ran Away” – Clarke Buehling
Considered to be the first banjo melody officially documented, “Pompey Ran Away” dates back to the 18th century. Hailing from Fayetteville, Arkansas, Clarke Buehling is a renowned banjo player and historian who has long been an advocate for the gourd banjo.
Ismay travels from Texas to Mississippi to visit the studio where Lucinda Williams made her first record. There, Ismay interviews Wolf Stephenson, who was the engineer that day in 1978, to learn about what happened during the session and whether Lucinda was confident through that initial challenge of recording. They discuss what results when artists get rejected and what keeps certain artists moving forward in spite of various roadblocks. Stephenson oversaw the development of Malaco Records, which produced R&B, soul, and gospel hits. Elsewhere in the episode, Ismay also takes time to visit the stretch of country between Austin, Texas, and Jackson, Mississippi, in order to understand the landscape that informed Lucinda’s work.
Produced in partnership with BGS and distributed through the BGS Podcast Network, Finding Lucinda expands on the themes of Ismay’s eponymous documentary film, exploring artistic influence, creative resilience, and the impact of Williams’ music. New episodes are released twice a month. Listen right here on BGS or wherever you get podcasts.
Finding Lucinda, the documentary film that inspired and instigated the podcast, is slated for release in the fall. Both the film and podcast showcase never-before-heard archival material, intimate conversations, and a visual journey through the literal and figurative landscapes that molded Lucinda’s songwriting.
Credits: Produced and mixed by Avery Hellman for Neanderthal Records, LLC. Music by Ismay. Artwork by Avery Hellman. Jackson, MS Recording: Recorded at Malaco Studios. Sound Recordist: Rodrigo Nino Producer: Liz McBee Director: Joel Fendelman Co-Director & Cinematographer: Rose Bush Special thanks to: Mick Hellman, Chuck Prophet, Don Fierro, Jacqueline Sabec, Rosemary Carroll, Lucinda Williams, & Tom Overby.
Find more information on Finding Lucinda here. Find our full Finding Lucinda episode archive here.
It’s a golden weekly roundup of new music and premieres! You Gotta Hear This.
Kicking off the collection, San Francisco-based bluegrassers the Brothers Comatose unveil “25 Miles,” a single from their upcoming album, Golden Grass. The full project arrives in September, but you need not journey that far to hear “25 miles,” which is available everywhere today. Listen below.
Then, Nashville Americana duo Goldpine keep the shimmering, golden aura going with “Space,” a blend of futurism and roots music about craving a break from the rat race and the “real world.” Goldpine’s brand new album, Three – their third, indeed – releases today, so we’re happy to spotlight a track from the project in celebration.
Alaskan bluegrass and country artist Josh Fortenbery shows off his new, expanded sound with “City Lights,” a song – and accompanying music video – about aging, opportunity, and anxiety that’s twangy and danceable even wrapped up in existential pondering. Plus, Mountain Home Music Company recording artist Jesse Smathers declares “If It Ain’t Broke (Don’t Fix It)” in his latest single, a tongue-in-cheek number that you’re sure to find hilarious and top notch.
To close us out on New Music Friday, Duluth, Minnesota’s Ross Thorn brings us “Baby, That’s All I Need.” With a folky sound and backed by lovely finger-picked guitar, the song is about empathy and, as Thorn puts it, “…Seeing the divine in everything, and seeing the divine in yourself.” It’s a perfect bookend for this week’s roundup.
We appreciate you joining us each week for new music. Because you know what we think – You Gotta Hear This!
The Brothers Comatose, “25 Miles”
Artist:The Brother Comatose Hometown: San Francisco, California Song: “25 Miles” Album:Golden Grass Release Date: July 16, 2025 (single); September 12, 2025 (album) Label: Swamp Jam Records
In Their Words: “’25 Miles’ was born out of a late-night drive from the SF Bay Area to LA, up and over the Grapevine, and a feeling that most of us know all too well: the weight of the world pressing down as we’re trying to outrun it. It’s about restless energy, being burned out and broke, with only dreams and close friends guiding you to your destination.
“It was written during a time of uncertainty and mental noise, and explores the tension between responsibility and freedom, and momentum and stillness.
“The line, ’25 miles to go and we’re running out of gas,’ is a metaphor for the transitional moments when you’re not quite sure where you’re headed, but you know you can’t turn back. There’s a subtle ache and a longing to escape not just a place, but also pressure, expectation, and the past. It’s about how getting lost is part of the plan, and survival sometimes looks like singing too loud with the windows down.” – Ben Morrison
Josh Fortenbery, “City Lights”
Artist:Josh Fortenbery Hometown: Juneau, Alaska Song: “City Lights” Album:Tidy Memorial Release Date: July 11, 2025 (single); October 10, 2025 (album) Label: Muskeg Collective
In Their Words: “This melody has been kicking around since I was in high school and I’ve returned to it and slowly tweaked the lyrics over the years. It definitely captures the expansion in my sound since the last record, but also highlights that internally, I feel as lost as ever. My anxiety around aging is pretty new – I think I’m finally recognizing that some doors are closed or closing, and I’m trying to decide if I’m still having fun.
“I worked with a videographer in Juneau, David Rossow, to visually capture the feeling of standing still in a small town while the world moves rapidly past. We probably weirded out some tourists walking in slow motion while singing the song at .2 speed, but it definitely shows off my local haunts and the local life that sometimes haunts me.” – Josh Fortenbery
Track Credits: Josh Fortenbery – Vocals, guitar Erik Clampitt – Pedal Steel Kat Moore –Fender Rhodes, Hammond B-3 Sam Roberts – Bass Todd Vierra – Drums Kennedy Jo Kruchoski – Vocals Taylor Dallas Vidic – Vocals
In Their Words: “We spend a lot of time on the road these days… it’s just become our regular life now. It seems like we drive so much, and do so much computer work, and are on the move so often that we just really cherish our breaks and time off. ‘Space’ is kind of like a stream of consciousness song about the desire for a break from the real world stuff. It’s a space-aged dreamy Americana tune with futuristic sounds and a rockin’ guitar solo. This tune was recorded from a compilation of live takes from shows on the road last year and mastered by engineer Dave McNair (Shovels & Rope, Brandi Carlile). We really captured the raw live performance feel on this tune, which is what we specialize in.” – Goldpine
Jesse Smathers, “If It Ain’t Broke (Don’t Fix It)”
Artist:Jesse Smathers Hometown: Floyd, Virginia Song: “If It Ain’t Broke (Don’t Fix It)” Release Date: July 11, 2025 Label: Mountain Home Music Company
In Their Words: “This tune was fun as could be to write and record. ‘If It Ain’t Broke (Don’t Fix It)’ is a common saying most folks have heard. I know I’ve heard it my whole life. However, the family in this tune must not be up to speed on the old idiom. This tune is a tongue-in-cheek reminder that if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it – just leave well enough alone.” – Jesse Smathers
Track Credits: Jesse Smathers – Guitar, lead vocal Hunter Berry – Fiddle Corbin Hayslett – Banjo Nick Goad – Mandolin, harmony vocal Joe Hannabach – Upright Bass
Ross Thorn, “Baby, That’s All I Need”
Artist:Ross Thorn Hometown: Duluth, Minnesota Song: “Baby, That’s All I Need” Album:Fitting In Release Date: July 11, 2025 (single); August 8, 2025 (album)
In Their Words: “I began writing this one morning after I went for a walk in the graveyard, a swim in Lake Superior during a storm, and came home to see a robin in the yard. It’s a song about radical empathy, seeing yourself in everything, seeing the divine in everything, and seeing the divine in yourself. We recorded the song live at the fabled Pachyderm Studios in Cannon Falls, Minnesota. To me, the song feels like John Prine collaborated with the rooster from the old Robin Hood cartoon (AKA Roger Miller), with a blend of honesty, humor, and some good old-fashioned whistling.” – Ross Thorn
Track Credits: Ross Thorn – Vocals, acoustic guitar Clark Singleton – Bass Cassandra Sotos – Violin, vocals Jacob Mahon – Banjo, vocals Ian Hopp – Drums Kyle Orla – Acoustic guitar, vocals
Photo Credit: The Brothers Comatose by Jessie McCall; Goldpine by Raechel Curtis.
Dallas Ugly is not a country band. Except that they are?
More than a decade ago now, college classmates Eli Broxham, Owen Burton, and Libby Weitnauer began playing together as a new acoustic band, bluegrass and old-time chops combined with jazz and jammy virtuosity. Eventually, via COVID pandemic cloistering together, they crafted a collective identity as Dallas Ugly, a vibey and tight alt-country group built around original songs that made a splash with their 2022 debut, Watch Me Learn.
On that album you can hear bluegrass grit, the tenderness of folk and indie songwriting, influences of Southern rock and pop, and dashes of Texas twang – perhaps supplied by confirmation bias thanks to their moniker. On their latest album, See Me Now (released in April), the trio are abandoning any and all claims to Americana and country. But this collection – one of the best roots albums of the year – still listens like so many classic artists and albums at the intersection of indie, country, and the vast musical horizon.
When you ask the Nashville-based band how they’ve landed in this new, borderless, agnostic genre territory, they seem as surprised by their own chosen style markers and aesthetic vocabulary as their audiences. “It’s an accident,” says Weitnauer – with delight. “We don’t know why we sound this way. We’ve been able to loosen up more, build on the experience we’ve gotten just as musicians. … With this iteration, I feel like it shows a full development of our sound.”
In truth, however See Me Now and Dallas Ugly strike your ears, it’s quite a straightforward task to trace their journey through genres. (Though it’s not the most straightforward to discuss!) The trio simply follows each song down their own individual creative rabbit holes, trusting the music and each other to find or carve out sounds that encapsulate the feelings, textures, and stories that they craft together. They don’t lead the songs, the songs lead them. As a result, Dallas Ugly alchemically transform barn burning old-time fiddle, endless country twang, deep honky-tonkin’ pocket, earnest, sentimental songwriting, and pop-informed sweet tooths into smooth, artful, endlessly interesting indie rock.
Dallas Ugly’s brand of roots music – if you can call it that – is downright beautiful. We spoke to the group via phone between tours in May about making the album, claiming genre (or not), and the sometimes passive, sometimes overwrought process of shepherding these songs into the world.
I wanted to start with getting the genre conversation out of the way, as it were. Y’all have been very forward with communicating that this isn’t really a country album; that you don’t really see yourselves as a country band. You call it indie, indie-pop-rock. I hear you as decidedly Americana and country, personally. Obviously you have those indie-pop touches – plus, we know you have string band bones as well – but can you talk a little bit about your relationship to genre and how you intentionally stepped into this much more free, borderless sonic space with this project?
Libby Weitnauer: It’s funny, because as I’ve had more conversations with people since the album’s come out I’m like, we definitely marketed it wrong. [Laughs] The other way we could’ve gone – everyone is like, “Do you ever listen to Sunbelt?” “Do you ever listen to Wilco?” “What about like The Breeders?”
But you asked what were the intentional steps that we made – and I would say there have been no intentional steps towards any genre. Which is why we are having trouble pinning it down, because I think we decided to market it the indie route. Honestly, the Americana world seemingly wants to have nothing to do with our music. [Laughs] So we were like, “Okay, then, I guess it’s not Americana, I guess it’s not country.” Every time we bring it to those people they turn it away.
I would say our relationship with genre is very passive. When we’re making decisions and writing songs, genre isn’t a consideration. It’s always been that way. When we started playing together as the very goofy band that we were before this band, that was a sort of attempt at new acoustic music. It was the same thing, we just make decisions [based on] things that we like, or think we’re supposed to do sometimes, or sound good. Then it comes through this Dallas Ugly Eli-Libby-Owen filter, no matter what.
We’ve honestly tried so hard to fit into a genre. Where we’re like, “Okay! We’ve done it this time. You guys, we made a song that sounds like something else that exists.” Which is a funny thing to aspire to. Just trying to create stuff that we like and then it’s, “Oh, nope, nevermind. There it is. Just as weird as ever.”
Do you feel like the songs are what’s guiding you in that passive way? That you’re just trying to give the songs the treatment they each want or are asking for or deserve? Do you feel like it’s taste? Or is it just how it ends up is how it ends up? What do you think is the process for how it ends up being borderless and amorphous and not quite any one thing?
Owen Burton: Yeah, I think those are all in there. I think it isn’t as if we’re striving when we’re writing, it’s not like we’re intentionally pointing to a specific genre. There’s just things that we don’t realize are so genre-coded that are kind of inescapable about our musical voices. When we are asking how to start a song it’s, “Let’s do a fiddle kick.” It’s not, “Let’s do a country thing.” It’s just, “I feel like a fiddle kick would make sense.” And then, on the other end of that is people being like, “This is a country record now!”
It’s fair enough. But I think with this record, too, [as] I’ve learned with our first album – which we were like, this is a country record – I feel like we learned, in how it was received, how actually regimented the Americana style is. And how we weren’t within certain signifiers that are pretty regimented. Indie rock is way more broad, in terms of what it tolerates stylistically.
So the next one, this one, certainly can fit in that big tent. Now, the way it’s been perceived that way too, [I’ve realized] indie rock’s pretty regimented in ways that I didn’t understand, too. Mostly about singing. I think just none of us sing like indie boys. [Laughs]
LW: Or country voice. That’s the thing, I think what it comes down to is if different people were singing our songs, maybe it would be clearer. But I think, especially Owen and I, we have acquired taste, stinky cheese voices. [Laughs] It’s definitely not for everybody. Eli, obviously he doesn’t sing quite as much, but weirdly I would say Eli has the most familiar voice.
I happen to love stinky cheese.
LW: Exactly! Me too.
How does Justin Francis play into the genre paradigm here as your producer, as somebody who effortlessly walks between those sonic worlds? Can you talk a little bit about working with him and having him in the control room?
OB: He understood what we were going for. When we started, we intentionally controlled less variables going into the studio for this one. It’s not as if we had a strategy meeting about what kind of album this was gonna be before we started, making creative decisions on it. The songs were vaguely written before we went into the studio, but not arranged and not figured out like across the band ahead of time.
I feel like even just that process– I guess that’s a bit of a question, is that more of an Americana process or more of an indie rock process? I see that as more of a rock process; I feel like rock bands often go into the studio with songs not even written and they just write it in the studio. With [Justin] on board, he had all kinds of ideas when we were writing in the studio, little bits of studio vocab that we don’t have ourselves. [He] pushed and pulled in different genre directions, for sure.
LW: Part of the reason that we worked with him is we did these two singles with him, “Big Signs” and “Born Crying” just to try working with another producer and see what happens. I don’t even know that we were really [thinking] we could make an album with him, because honestly, he’s the real deal! We were like, “He’s famous, so he probably won’t make an album with us, but let’s just see what these things will sound like.” It was so effortless and he let us do our thing on those two. I feel like those [songs] are just as unhinged as anything else that we’ve made and he was right there with us with the ideas.
I would say, generally, working with him was really effortless. That’s the word I would use. The whole time, even the pre-production meetings.
Let’s talk about some of the music. My favorite is “Bad Feeling.” I know the lyric may say, “It’s a bad feeling, I don’t like it at all…” but I do like it. I like “Bad Feeling” a lot. I heard you guys play this song live a bunch before the album, too, but can you talk about the origin of it, its writing, how it came together in the studio?
LW: That’s the one song I think on the whole album that we had been performing [before recording]. Maybe “You Can Leave,” but it changed a lot. “Bad Feeling” we had been performing pretty much as it is, for the most part. I’m glad that you like it, because that was the song I was like… not disappointed in, but I had so much trouble breaking out of the live arrangement that we had. We had played it so much that I felt like the track suffered a little bit from how attached we were to the live arrangement.
But the making and the writing of that song, I feel like I wrote it [because] I’d been listening to a lot of Judee Sill. I guess I was inspired by that and was trying to capture how some of her songs, the chords move with the lyrics a lot. I didn’t end up really sounding like her at all, but some of the original harmonies we had for that song, played [off of] some of the harmonies in her music.
I feel like that song is like the epitome of my writing style, which is pretty autobiographical. Every time I try to write like feathery stuff, it sounds really goofy. And so with lyrics, I just try to find the most straightforward way I can say something. Usually that ends up being the most poetic, from my voice.
How do you know when you have a hook or you have the bit of the song that’s gonna be what everybody shouts along with? To me, it doesn’t feel like any of you are writing songs because you think they’re gonna be a hit. But at the same time, when I hear a really hooky song or a really catchy song – like basically this whole album – whether it’s “Bad Feeling” or “Sugar Crash” or “Circumstances” or “See Me Now,” I can picture a “light bulb moment” when you find that hook or line that ends up being the sing along.
LW: When I’m writing, I don’t really consciously think about hooks like this. That being said, a lot of my songs start with either a phrase or a melody. I’ll be on a walk or doing something in the kitchen just singing little thing. Like “Circumstances” – “I put a letter in the mail…” – that just happened in my brain when I was doing something. Then usually I’ll grab onto that and write the song around whatever little melody piece comes to me. I guess what ends up being the hook, a lot of the time, is what comes to me. And then I find myself singing it and I let it take off and do what it’s gonna do.
Eli Broxham: I feel like something that comes up, a question we end up asking ourselves that I’ve heard Libby ask a bunch of times is, “Is this super cheesy?” [All laugh] Which, we definitely ride the line of cheesiness, but at some point, you have to just be like, “I don’t know. I like it. And that’s good enough.” If it’s borderline to me, maybe it’ll be over the line for somebody else, but clearly, within bounds for another listener.
At some point, trust your instincts and be like, “It might be cheesy, but that’s okay.” And yeah, I think melodically is where I have my surest footing [writing hooks]. I still feel as a songwriter, if I hit the mark, it’s maybe by chance or something.
I also want to talk about “See Me Now,” because it’s the title track, because it’s a great song, but also because I feel like it epitomizes the journey y’all have been on, from Watch Me Learn to this album. Not just musically and creatively, but also genre, and also politically and socially. This song is “of the moment” in a really interesting way, because you can listen to it down and it’s a love song and it’s a song about seeing and being seen, but it’s also about perception and, “Is my existence valid?”
All of that is really deeply resonant, but if you zoom out and view the song in the context of the band, it changes its meaning. If you zoom out yet again and you view it in the context of y’all really coming together during COVID to do this project as Dallas Ugly, being friends for more than a decade, it changes the meaning of the song again. It’s a tesseract of a track where you guys are writing in four dimensions – it’s not too intellectual or conceptual, but it has endless depth. How!?
OB: I actually wrote that very quickly, because Elise Leavy was having like a songwriting circle. I hadn’t written a song terribly recently, so I was just gonna write something real quick for this. That was the song I wrote and at the time – this is years ago – I was very into that Kacey Musgraves album, Golden Hour, and the lead track, [“Slow Burn”]. That acoustic intro thing, I was messing around with that, because the chords are really simple, but the voicings are so interesting.
Those two things – “hurry up and write a song” and the somewhat new vocab I had just learned – came together. That first draft of it was soft, crummy – plus those lyrics, it’s hard to say what they’re about, because I wrote them very quick. Sometimes this spiel I give on stage is:
It’s three people meeting each other after some kind of apocalypse. In the universe of the apocalypse, because nobody has anything anymore, it’s very hard to [determine] what status anyone was before the apocalypse. It’s three different kinds of people with different former social status, wishing that people they interacted with could tell what status they used to have. People are very comfortable in their status, I feel like whether it’s high status or low status, people find comfort in both. Personal comfort in your own status and the comfort in feeling like you know how to treat people once you derive their status.
I feel like audiences never understand that spiel and it’s maybe too heady to be worth anything. [Laughs] Maybe that’s also why it feels like there’s so many different reads you could have of that song.
I think the most interesting thing about it – and maybe I’m projecting y’all – is the sentiment, “Can’t you see me now? I want you to see me.” Maybe that’s just the millennial condition. All of us having nostalgia for something that never existed, generationally, and being like, “I need you to see me. I need you to perceive me. But also I’d rather you perceive me from the golden era, from the before times. From when things were right.”
Also the “Can you hear me now?” reference of it all feels very millennial, very of the 2000s in a great way. Again, is this cheesy? No, of course not. Listen to it! But also, yes it is.
OB: Yeah, that’s where we live.
LW: That’s where we live! And I would say, before this, before the version that’s on the album, it had a very different flavor. I can’t even remember how it sounded exactly, but it was definitely more country – almost like country rock – and that was over the line. I’m glad we found [this style] and Justin helped us find that. Just pulling it back to the other side a little bit, because yeah, lyrically and melodically, it’s so solid and awesome. But we had to go to the drawing board a few times to get the setting right for it.
EB: That one is like the musical ideas are blocks that are put in place. I remember when we were doing this – after some of the drawing board stuff that Libby was talking about – but I was listening to that Mac Miller album, Circles – which I think is maybe the best Mac Miller album. I was listening to how the elements didn’t change, they just turned on and off to make the song, which I feel like is pretty common in pop and rap production. But often, especially in this band or in Americana and rock, things tend to sneak in and out and evolve.
But for that song in particular, the bass line just turns on, then turns off for a little part. It turns on and turns off. There’s different parts of different sections, but they are like binary, which I think is an interesting approach – and a first for us, in that sense. Somehow, that takes it out of the realm of cheesy country and accentuates the lyrics in a nice way. Even that final chorus, where it’s just a big pause and then the chorus turns on.
LW: That’s interesting that you say that, ’cause I feel like for my fiddling, that was the approach I took on this whole album. Honestly, until we got to the pre-production meetings I was like, “I don’t even think I’m gonna play fiddle on this album.”
I took more of [an approach like] I’m a sample of a thing, rather than being a fiddle in a band. Like even on “You Can Leave,” which is the more fiddle-y of the tracks, in the verses I’m not doing traditional fills. I’m doing this one rhythmic hook every time this comes around and that’s what I’m playing on this song.
It was the idea of turning things on and off rather than trying to be part of the whole song. And I let myself punctuate things and not feel like I need to play the whole time.
Artist:The Wildmans Hometown: Floyd, Virginia Latest Album:Longtime Friend (out July 11, 2025)
Which elements of nature do you spend the most time with and how do those impact your work?
Growing up in the rich and vibrant region of the Appalachian mountains, nature has always been extremely influential to everything we do. Hearing the frogs sing in the evening or when the cicadas come out and fill the air with their hypnotic mantra every few years. Nature perseveres out here and if you want to live in it you are always battling one element or another. We don’t have AC, so in the summer all of our instruments are inundated with humidity, of course bringing them outside adds to this which we do often too. Dehumidifiers help. But it’s that soft humid atmosphere that makes the forest so lush and dense out here. I think it has always taught us a lot too living in such a rural area. And I would say the musical culture of these mountains and this region of America is possibly the most impactful aspect in our work today.
What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?
Every year as kids we got to attend the local music festival in our home town, Floydfest. We discovered so much music throughout those years and specifically it was an experience we shared at Jon Lohman’s workshop porch stage when this band The Boston Boys, along with Danny Knicely and Nate Leath, invited us up to play a couple tunes on stage. It was our first time being on stage in front of a real audience and it’s one of those quintessential moments in our lives that is significant to where we are and what we are pursuing today. I think that the relaxed and inviting atmosphere that both the musicians and the audience gave to us in that moment is something that we take with us into every show we play now.
What is a genre, album, artist, musician, or song that you adore that would surprise people?
Ever since Mk.gee dropped Two Star & The Dream Police in the beginning of 2024, it has stayed on rotation. Whether in the tour van, headphones, or home stereo. I also have a serious soft spot for 90s R&B like SWV and Soul For Real. And D’angelo always. – Aila
Since food and music go so well together, what is your dream pairing of a meal and a musician?
This is such a great question and immediately it makes me think of this scene of Leon Russell playing “Jambalaya on the Bayou” in 1972 filmed by Les Blank for his film, A Poem Is A Naked Person. This is the dream pairing right here, Leon is onstage with a plate of what appears to be half-eaten ribs sitting in front of him on his piano, full of soul and groove singing this old Hank Williams song. I mean did he wipe his hands before starting the song? It’s rock and roll, it’s Leon Russell with southern bbq. – Eli
What would a perfect day as an artist and creator look like to you?
Waking up in the morning and having a hot beverage of some sort. Tea or coffee. This is a good time to write freely, reflect. Even sing a new song. Then going outside to sit in the sun for a half hour before making a really good breakfast. We are serious about breakfast as a band, sometimes all other meals can feel like a failure while on tour, especially with dietary restrictions and what not. But we always make sure breakfast is accomplished and done right.
After breakfast, we might play some music by ourselves or with each other. Giving time and space into the day for creativity and practice. Exercise is also really important to us, this would come next as we are easing into the afternoon. Into the evening we love to have friends over to share music and food, cooking together or grilling out. Good food, good people, and good music make the world go round. All of these things are what make up a “perfect day as an artist” to us. General simplicity and grounding.
(Editor’s Note: Welcome to our Reissue series! For the past several weeks, Basic Folk has been digging back into the archives and reposting some of our favorite episodes alongside new introductions commenting on what it’s like to listen back. This is our last Reissue for now, so please enjoy!
This episode featuring separate interviews with The Indigo Girls – Amy Ray and Emily Saliers – and host Cindy Howes was originally posted winter 2019.)
Back in 2019, my now-wife and I attended the inaugural Girls Just Wanna Weekend in Cancun, Mexico, which featured an all-women lineup curated and hosted by Brandi Carlile. I was lucky enough to be able to interview The Indigo Girls there in two separate solo interviews. I still feel nervous thinking about the scene of talking to both Amy Ray and Emily Saliers in each of their (very nice!) hotel suites on my new little Shure mic that connected to my phone. Lucky for me, both Amy and Emily were really into my new mic, so it served as the best possible icebreaker. Both were very generous with their time and with their answers to my unorthodox questions.
First I got to speak to Amy Ray, who talks about growing up in a conservative, modest Southern family with her radiologist father and a smart, scholarship-attaining mother. She speaks to how her suburban upbringing and intake of conservative values of the South has influenced her identity. She shares about her father’s deep involvement in community service and the impact of her father’s generosity on her own activism. I also asked Amy about her sense of fashion and how it challenges traditional gender norms. She talks about her love for creative clothing and that her historically unconventional approach to style serves as a form of activism.
Next up: Emily Saliers. She talks about her relationship with guitar playing, tracing it back to childhood lessons at the YMCA and musical members of her family. She also points out how playing electric guitar changed the game, particularly through collaborations with Amy Ray. Emily talks about first solo album, Murmuration Nation. Released in 2017, it took a long time to come to fruition due to challenges and emotional hurdles she faced during its creation. Lyris Hung, longtime Indigo Girls friend, collaborator, and producer – including on that solo album – brought her expansive musical imagination and played a critical role in shaping the record. We also get into Emily’s love for hip-hop, specifically political hip-hop, and the profound impact the genre has had on her. Emily ends with talking about her other great love, food, by drawing parallels between the communal nature of music and cuisine, illustrating how both bring people together in meaningful ways.
On Saturday, July 26, BGS and Good Country will return to Newport Folk Festival for another very special benefit aftershow, The Good Country Goodtime, featuring actor-comedian-musician James Austin Johnson (of SNL) and special musical guests. Each year, in the evenings after the festival winds down at Fort Adams State Park, Newport Folk hosts a variety of aftershows at venues around Newport, Rhode Island, each benefitting the Newport Festivals Foundation. Tickets went on sale today at 1pm EDT / 10am PDT – and sold out immediately. Join the wait list and get more info here.
Last year, BGS and our co-founder Ed Helms hosted A Bluegrass Situation at the Jane Pickens Theater on Saturday night of the festival. The sold-out superjam styled show featured performances by Helms and his Lonesome Trio, Langhorne Slim, Tony Trischka, Billy Bragg, Rhiannon Giddens, Madison Cunningham, Andrew Bird, and many more.
This year, it’s a brand new show, an exciting reimagination of our recent creation, The Good Country Goodtime, a variety show in the style of iconic old-timey radio shows, jamborees, and barn dances that’s a modern celebration of country, comedy, and everything beyond, below, and in between.
Hosted by Saturday Night Live cast member – and burgeoning Music Row songwriter – James Austin Johnson and written by comedy, radio, and podcast writer Greg Hess, the Good Country Goodtime will build on the show’s format as debuted by BGS and Good Country at Dynasty Typewriter in Los Angeles in September 2024. (Watch a humorous house band performance of “Who’s Gonna Feed Them Hogs” from the Dynasty Typewriter edition of the show below.)
The Newport Folk Fest rendition of our variety show will feature a who’s who of musical and comedy guests from the festival lineup and beyond, with many a surprise and once-in-a-lifetime moment in store. Hilarious sketches, iconic collaborations, a stellar house band, classic songs from the country canon, and plenty of homages to Newport Folk Festival and its country legacy will be sure to charm the Jane Pickens Theater audience.
Artist:Caitlin Canty Hometown: Danby, Vermont Song: “Bird Dog” Featuring Matt Lorenz Album:Night Owl Envies the Mourning Dove Release Date: June 26, 2025 (single); October 2, 2025 (album)
In Their Words: “‘Bird Dog’ is the most recent single from my new record, Night Owl Envies the Mourning Dove, and features the intrepid Matt Lorenz as my duet partner. It is pure joy to sing with Matt (you likely know him best as The Suitcase Junket). Matt and I first met at Club Passim’s Campfire open mic years ago, and he sang backing vocals on my Reckless Skyline way back in 2015. We were long past due making music again, and his fiery vocals are an essential thread in my new record coming this October.
“Brian Carroll, who filmed and edited this video, has been such a steadfast creative partner behind the lens and microphone. I first got to know his work when he shot some gorgeous live videos in lightning fast sessions at Green Mountain Bluegrass and Roots and I’m thrilled to be working with him on some live video versions of songs from Night Owl Envies the Mourning Dove.
“I wrote the chorus of ‘Bird Dog’ a few years back when I lived in Nashville and then finished it at our new home in the mountains in Southern Vermont. Our dog Bell sparked the song with her barking and carried on through much of the writing process. I suppose that makes her my muse?” – Caitlin Canty
Video Credits: Caitlin Canty – Vocals, guitar Matt Lorenz – Vocals, guitar Filmed and edited by Brian Carroll. Mixed by Dave Sinko.
Photo Credit: Lead image by Brian Carroll; alternate image by Laura Partain.
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