Tag: Folk

Anna Tivel Makes Poetry in Music From Poetry in Nature

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

There is something woodsy and nature-rooted about Anna Tivel’s songwriting. It calls to mind mountain hiking, tall pines, mushroom foraging. The clink of a water bottle against a caribiner. The gentle tiptoe sound of dew dropping from treetops. Maybe it’s Oregon that’s seeped into her bones. Maybe it’s just the way her intrinsic poeticism steers things.

Listening to Tivel’s music tends to conjure the words of other writers. Consider some of the final lines from Barbara Kingsolver’s Prodigal Summer:

“Solitude is only a human presumption. Every quiet step is thunder to beetle life underfoot; every choice is a world made new for the chosen.”

Or, consider the poetry of Wendell Berry or Mary Oliver or Andrea Gibson. Each seemed to have plucked their pieces from shrubs and vines – or at least from the air around their foliage. Indeed, some of these names came up in our recent conversation with Tivel about her new album, Animal Poem, which drops August 29 on Fluff & Gravy Records.

Much like a walk through the woods, Animal Poem offers listeners a pathway toward retaining their humanity in a world that can feel inhumane. Though Tivel notes she began writing this album two years ago, she was conscious of the shifting geopolitical landscape and the way the chaos in the news might – or might not – echo into people’s private lives.

In the end, she suggests that life is mostly made of small moments between people who are guided by love and who are trying to understand one another. Those are the moments of dissonance where our commonalities have the best chance of prevailing. To hear Tivel tell it, that is the basis of her job as both poet and songwriter.

With so much going on in the world geopolitically, so many people are struggling with how to make art and why to make art and, of course, feeling compelled to continue to make art. But there’s this existential part of it that I feel like you’re addressing on this album. Maybe also in the creation of this album, which I’m guessing was recorded well before what’s happening today, and will be different from what will be happening when we publish it.

So, when you think about this album now, and what you were working through with these songs in that moment, how has it aged in your mind?

Anna Tivel: That’s funny, I was thinking today how, in this particular year so far, I’m having trouble [writing songs]. I’m having a lot of trouble finding the core of what I mean. I always feel like writing is this search for something a little beyond your understanding. You’re just moving through the world kind of trying to express what you see and what you’re learning and what you’re reaching for. And I’ve been finding, in this particular moment, it’s just so loud and it’s so tangled. I’m writing a lot of angry things that I will never play, [about] not understanding and not even knowing what to reach for to try to understand.

This album was all written like two years ago now, in a state of the world not dissimilar from this one. I was reading a lot of Wendell Berry and just thinking about big, overarching systems and how impossible it is for those to stay about people. [I was thinking] about the earth and kind of thinking about how these smaller communities … function and how things ripple outward. But, the really small things, like your family or your neighborhood. Power lies in these very mundane but magical lives we’re living. How we’re touching the person across the street from us or how we’re figuring out our own hearts, and how powerful that is in the overarching, huge system that [can] become very inhumane so easily.

I think there’s a lot of that there – a lot of love and immense, wild power. All these things are coming out of the technological wavelength that we’re on. And then things like love [that] just can’t be snuffed out.

As you were talking about what we’re reaching for, and the small things, I kept thinking about this image at the end of this record, in the song “Meantime.” The swing set that nobody used and this family that, maybe there was abuse, but the dad built the swing set. Nobody went out to play on it, and they left, and the swing was still there, blowing in the wind.

A swing doesn’t know what it’s reaching, but it’s always there to lift you. What a beautiful thesis that it is for this record, coming as it does, at the end. Can you talk a little bit about that song, “Meantime,” and your decision to place it second to last? Does it feel to you like that’s what this record was reaching toward? I’m always interested in how sequencing tells the story.

Sometimes [sequencing] is really just meaning-based, or it’s sort of sonically based. I really liked the idea of this record kind of starting with this song that expands as much as the whole country. And then going all the way down to the last song, [which] is just very quiet, about love between two people, or what it is to build the language of love with the people nearest to you. I like there to be some kind of journey on a record, where you’re taken through different stories and different lives, for there to be some sort of arc.
“Meantime,” to me, feels [like] that’s what I’m trying to say, but it takes place in a very small image. It’s one neighbor. There’s always a lot of neighbors in my music. [I’m a] very voyeuristic neighbor, probably.

There’s this feeling on the record, I think, that we hold all these things and we’re contributing to all these things – such pain and also such beauty. And we’re all sort of trying to separate ourselves from each other [and] from these big forces.

You can recognize yourself in everything, both the good and the bad. But inside of me is so much love and there’s so much cruelty and so much confusion. And becoming part of a family or a community – or a global community – it’s almost like the deeper you [go,] the more you recognize that you are just like everybody. You hold all those things and they hold all those things, even if they feel ugly or small or huge or powerful, they’re in there.

You’re reminding me of the poem by the late, brilliant Andrea Gibson. When I first heard their line, I actually thought of you. And then listening to this album, it came back to me.

The line is, “Do you know how many beautiful things can be seen in a single second?” It’s from the poem, “In the Chemo Room…” It’s thoughts from chemo, which is such a hopeless, awful thing, theoretically. And yet, all of Andrea’s work is so full of hope. I feel like that is so true to what this album conjured for me. I’m wondering if you have any kind of relationship with their poetry or if you were even aware of that parallel.

Yeah, I wish. I wanna take it in, because my good friends in Portland were just telling me to go read their work. I haven’t yet, but I resonate a lot with that. Like, you can just look all around you and see horror upon horror. [But] we are stunningly alive. Full of love and mystery, all at the same time. You’d die if you couldn’t hold that. You can kind of lean in either direction, or you can kind of like just sit there in all directions at once. That’s the journey of the whole thing.

While I’m bringing up poets, you mentioned Wendell Berry. One of my other favorite lines is from him: “Be joyful though you’ve considered all the facts,” Right? Like, this whole idea that we are animals among animals on this planet. Everything’s brutal – and there’s joy. And there’s love, you know. This is such a vital part of what every poet says, right?

There’s a song on here called “Animal Poem,” but the fact that you chose that phrase as the title of the album seemed to resonate. What was it about, to you, to choose those two words as the title of this project?

It’s exactly that. I feel very much like I want to be another being on the earth [who is] trying to express all those things at once, that everybody’s feeling, going through, and finding ways to say to each other.

There’s so many ways that we hold the word “animal”: Wild, untethered, maybe dangerous, maybe instinct[ive], maybe disturbing. … A poem is such an intentional, beautiful way to capture a small part of being. I like the idea that maybe this whole thing is just [us] running around confused, trying to find a little beauty, in what often appears to be utter chaos.

But where is the line, in your mind, between poetry and music? Is there any difference? Is it something intrinsic to the piece? Or, how do you decide what gets music added and what stays a poem?

Yeah, maybe I just think it all comes from the same place – the raw urge to express something. The way that music, or any art form, allows you to express it a little more honestly, because it’s not so straightforward.

When you can live outside the exact facts and use all the colors and the sensory details and emotion of a thing, sometimes that feels more true than being like, “Ted went to the store and bought an egg.” You know? There’s all the other things that happened in that moment, that informed the way Ted’s heart was moving, that can be more readily got-at with art. There’s all these ways that people do that.

Ted’s egg was actually quite an experience for him.

Yeah, I mean, why did he go for just one egg? That’s my question.

There’s only one egg left. Poor Ted.

Logistically, when it came to making this record, you noted that it was a group of people in a room just kind of playing together. Was there rehearsal? How many times did everybody else hear these songs? And what was the creative process in that circle?

It was really free. I loved making this record. It felt, to me, like a bunch of freedom. Hearts in a room, just having our thing.
Some of us had toured together a little bit, so we played some of these songs in various ways. Some were new. We sort of just sat and played together for a day or two beforehand. We tried really hard not to make parts. [We were] really trying to at least get comfortable with the forms, so you know where the bridge lives, so it doesn’t surprise you. But [we didn’t do] so much that people settled into things.

Then we just sat in a circle. We didn’t wear headphones, which I loved, and we put my voice through a little monitor in the middle of the room. I’m fairly quiet, so everyone could at least hear the words. We mixed ourselves and just played music in the room together. There was no turning yourself up in the headphones or adding reverb. It just was what it was.

That felt really free. It felt like we forgot we were making a record. Just trying to feel the thing in the moment. I love this group of people. I’ve done a lot of touring with [them] over the years. [I’ve] known them a long time and really respect their musicality, but also their spirits.

Photo courtesy of the artist.

Basic Folk: Maya de Vitry, Ethan Jodziewicz, Joel Timmons, Shelby Means

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Maya de Vitry, Ethan Jodziewicz, Joel Timmons, and Shelby Means are on Basic Folk today talking about their new collaborations. Maya produced both Shelby and Joel’s debut solo albums this year; Joel and Ethan play in Maya’s band; and the two couples (Joel & Shelby are married and Ethan & Maya are partners) are all very close friends. They met in Nashville, where Maya & Ethan still live, while Joel & Shelby live in Charleston, South Carolina. Joel talks about the huge gesture Shelby made in leaving Nashville behind for his hometown of Charleston. He also talks about the elated feeling they both got when Shelby, who also used to tour with Della Mae, got the chance to play upright as a member of Molly Tuttle & Golden Highway.

LISTEN: APPLE • SPOTIFY • AMAZON • MP3

Big themes of this friend group include trust, lifting each other up, and being one another’s “vibe coaches.” In our conversation we talk about choosing love, connecting with your music friends in non-musical ways, and, of course, the most epic hair in Americana: Joel Timmons and his mullet. The group shares insights on how they are still close and able to connect and spend time with each other despite the distance. Short flights and drives are worth it when you’ve got friends like this.

Photo Credit: Shelby Means by Hunter McRae Photography; Ethan Jodziewicz by Joel Timmons; Joel Timmons by Scott Simontacchi; Maya de Vitry by Kaitlyn Raitz.

Basic Folk: Paul Brady

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Bob Dylan once called Paul Brady a “secret hero” and meant it as a compliment. The Irish songwriting legend has not been bothered by the fact that his profile has not risen as high as some of his peers. Starting off in the world of traditional Irish music, Brady spent time in the hugely influential Irish group Planxty until they disbanded in 1975. After that, he and bandmate Andy Irvine recorded a record of trad music together. In 1981, Brady released an album of original songs titled Hard Station that was based on his experience of growing up during The Troubles in Northern Ireland. It was a huge left turn for him stylistically and in being so personal with his writing. After that, Brady’s songwriting career took off; he has written songs for Bonnie Raitt, Santana, Tina Turner, and many others.

LISTEN: APPLE • SPOTIFY • AMAZON • MP3

In our Basic Folk conversation, Brady reflects on his upbringing and how music served as his reliable companion. He also discusses his parents’ artistic influences, particularly his father’s passion for acting and how it shaped his own stage performances. We touch on themes of perfectionism, impostor syndrome, and the inherent pressures of the music industry. Additionally, Paul talks about his latest massive box set, The Archive, which features rare demos, live recordings, and unique collaborations, offering a comprehensive look at his extensive body of work.

Photo Credit: Stuart Bailie

One Fair Summer Evening…

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

My fifth grade teacher, after announcing pop quizzes, would, without fail, remind my panicked classmates and I sitting at our desks to “Look down in desperation, look up for inspiration, but do not look side-to-side for information.” A memorable way to keep ten-year-olds from cheating on each other’s exams. There’s something about the adage that’s stuck with me twenty-five years on.

To this day, if I’m feeling desperate or helpless, my head droops down, oftentimes collapsing into the palms of my hands. I still also look up for answers to the unanswerable, the unknowable, or as Mrs. Schock put it, for “inspiration.” Sat at my desk once again, reading about last month’s flooding in Texas on this country’s 249th birthday, my head automatically fell into my hands and, just as quickly, my eyes lifted their gaze upwards. Above my computer, nestled in the Napa Valley Wooden Cassette Rack, something caught my eye, the audio cassette of One Fair Summer Evening by Nanci Griffith.

The GRAMMY-winning “Lone Star State of Mind” singer landed like a raindrop into this world on July 6, 1953, in Seguin, Texas, a small town in Guadalupe County in the watershed of the Guadalupe River. Raised in Austin, Griffith achieved international attention following the release of her breakthrough 1986 album, The Last of The True Believers, that showcased her impressive singing and songwriting, which she had honed in the decade prior alongside the likes of her Hill Country contemporaries Townes Van Zandt and Lyle Lovett.

Griffith died on August 13, 2021, at the age of 68. Thirty-three years earlier, on August 19 and 20, 1988 – less than two months after that May’s blue moon – she recorded her sole live album, One Fair Summer Evening, at Anderson Fair, an intimate folk club in Houston. It’s a remarkable recording, not just for how good Griffith’s songs sound stripped of the instrumental flourishes that colored her studio albums up to that point, but the Texas charm she provides in the banter between songs.

While introducing “Trouble in The Fields,” she jokes self-deprecatingly, “Most of my mother’s family came from way out in West Texas in a little town called Lockney, which is somewhere close to Lubbock, but not too close to Lubbock. Nobody likes to be too close to Lubbock.”

The crowd laughs, hysterically.

She continues with her squeaky soliloquy, one long run-on sentence without much pause for breath, “My great aunt Nettie Mae said that surviving the Great Depression on a farm was not easy and she understands why the young farmers nowadays are having such a hard time, because she went through it herself and the dust blew so hard during the Great Depression on her farm that she said she was afraid to go to sleep at night, because she was afraid the dust would blow so hard one night that she’d wake up the next morning and find herself living in Oklahoma and she by God didn’t want to live in Oklahoma.”

The audience, cackling louder now and showering Griffith’s gift of gab with rounds of applause, quickly quiets themselves as Griffith shifts her tone and launches into the song about her family’s trials and tribulations being farmers in Texas during the Dust Bowl, singing the words: “And all this trouble in our fields/ If this rain can fall, these wounds can heal.”

Sometimes, we look up in desperation as well, for any precipitation the sky can offer us.

In the introduction to the next song, “The Wing and The Wheel,” Griffith tells her captive crowd, “There’s no need for any human being to ever be complacent.” The emotional whiplash might be too much to take, stark laughter swiftly shifting gears to deadpan seriousness, if the sincerity in the songs didn’t shine through with each passing line: “The wing and the wheel, they carry things away/ Whether it’s me that does the leavin’ or the love that flies away/ The moon outside my window looks so lonely tonight/ Oh, there’s a chunk out of its middle, big enough for an old fool to hide.”

Ten years later, in August 1998, Griffith’s relationship with her home state had become fraught. She wrote and sent letters to every major newspaper in Texas – the Dallas Morning News, the Houston and Austin Chronicles, the Austin-American Statesman, Texas Monthly – after a poor critical reception to her album Other Voices, Too (A Trip Back to Bountiful), released the month prior. In her letter, she defiantly rails, “There has always been a certain amount of pathos within artists who leave their sacred bountiful homes of birth for the benefit of preserving their own belief in their art—especially in cases such as my own where my native soil that I have so championed around this globe has done its best to choke whatever dignity I carried within me.” In the probing missive, she references Thomas Wolfe, whose own novels so severely damaged his reputation in his hometown of Asheville, North Carolina – which last year was decimated by the historic flooding of Hurricane Helene – he never returned.

The full moon in July is otherwise called a “Buck Moon,” named for the time of year the male deer’s antlers grow anew and hunters can track them more easily midday. This year, the Buck Moon swung across a fair, summer evening sky over Texas on July 12th, barely a week after the floods. That night Luke Borchelt, a country musician and singer-songwriter from Maryland, was seated at a bar in Austin. The night prior, he had performed at Parish, a club in the heart of the state’s capitol, right near where a Woolworth’s once stood at Sixth Street and Congress Ave. The very same shop Griffith sang about in her “Love at The Five and Dime” – and is pictured in front of on the album cover for The Last of The True Believers.

After striking up a conversation with a local patron at the bar, Borchelt was asked, “You’re a country singer? Could we do a concert tomorrow to raise money?” Borchelt agreed. So it often goes with Texans: forward, empathetic and community-oriented. Prior to becoming a full-time musician, Borchelt worked for Mercy Chefs, the Virginia-based, disaster relief non-profit.

“I managed logistics and the distribution of meals in disaster areas. That was my passion. It’s also where I got my musical start. After hours, I would play for the chefs. Disaster is a part of my story.”

As Borchelt recounts his journey, it sounds like a country song. There’s a rhythm to his speech that’s musical. He tells me “…there’s a stereotype of ‘badass’ Texans,” but in the wake of the floods, the “Every Rain” singer says, “I can’t say enough about the amount of people that showed up. We asked them ‘What brought you here?,’ and they would say, ‘I’m a Texan. We just show up.’”

After his performance in Austin, Borchelt headed to volunteer with Mercy Chefs, who had stationed themselves at a church in Kerrville to prepare and serve meals to evacuees, first responders, and search and rescue teams. Since the intense rains fell on July 4 in the central part of the state, 136 people lost their lives – 116 of which were lost in Kerr County.

In the flash flood’s waters, which crested at 30 feet, lay Camp Mystic – a girls’ summer camp situated alongside the banks of the Guadalupe River, northwest of Seguin. It was there that 27 people, counselors and campers, mostly children, died during one of the most tragic natural disasters in recent memory.

The six different flags that have waved over Texas throughout its history – some more star-spangled than others – have always flown over a proud people. When I speak to Mercy Chefs’ Ashbi Wilson, the managing chef on the deployment teams in Kerrville and Ingram, it’s no surprise she’s proud of her Texas roots. She lived in Kerrville for eight years before relocating southeast to her current home in Wimberley. At 21 years-old, before she became a chef, she spent a summer as a counselor at Camp Mystic, based on the recommendation of a professor at the local college, Schreiner University.

Regarding Camp Mystic she recalls, “Mystic is a really special place. Everybody was so warm and welcoming. Everybody was really just there to be encouraging and to have fun, and to help these girls, growing up to be young women.”

Hours before she got the call to deploy to Kerr County in early July, her bags were already packed. “It was a lot more personal this time, so I was ready to go,” she tells me. “Disasters are always both devastating and inspiring at the same time. So, even though there’s been so much heaviness and devastation around the lives and the places lost, it’s still really rewarding and inspiring to watch the community, and people from all over the state, and the first responders from all over the country and all over the world come in and do the work that’s needed.”

One Fair Summer Evening…

If these rains can fall, these wounds can heal.

— Nanci Griffith

Thousands of Texans called FEMA for assistance, and in the days following the torrential downpours, those calls were left unanswered, leaving recovery efforts largely in the hands of local authorities and volunteers. Firefighters from Mexico, a nation whose flag once flew over Texas, travelled north to Kerrville, and served a critical role in search and rescue operations. Earlier this month, after several Texas lawmakers fled the state in protest of a vote in the State Senate to gerrymander congressional districts along racial lines, one of their peers called upon a different federal agency, the FBI, to bring them back home. Is it any wonder why someone with such deep Texas roots as Nanci Griffith would disavow her home state?

Simultaneously, from where I write in Southern California, taqueros in East Los Angeles, farm workers in Camarillo, and day-laborers in the parking lots of Home Depots strewn across the city are being hunted like bucks at midday by armed and masked agents of the state, taken into federal custody to be deported to Tijuana, where there are now makeshift slums filled with deportees. In January, Mexican firefighters again headed north to volunteer to battle the blazes that burned across various pockets of the sprawling metropolis. Fire and I.C.E.

The desperation and helplessness one is inclined to feel while watching disasters both natural and unnatural unfold can be crippling. You don’t know how to do anything but languish in hopelessness and hang your head in shame, but as Wilson says, disasters can be both devastating and inspiring, no matter which way you look. Oftentimes, we turn to music to guide us through the dark and remove us from our solitude.

A live record gives its listener a glimpse into a communal space from afar, a moment captured crystalline and pure. Griffith’s One Fair Summer Evening served as my reminder that, not only in Texas, but everywhere a human draws breath, that “there’s no need for any human being to ever be complacent…” After all, “if these rains can fall, these wounds can heal.”

Donate to support flood relief in Texas by giving to the Community Foundation of the Texas Hill Country here. Learn more and support Mercy Chefs here.

Scans by Shane Greenberg, That Scans.

You Gotta Hear This: New Music From Katie Boeck, Ben Garnett, and More

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

You’ve reached the end of the week and, for your reward, we’ve collected a superlative handful of brand new videos, visualizers, and songs from roots music spheres.

Kicking us off, actor and indie-folk singer-songwriter Katie Boeck puts yearning “almost-love” in the spotlight with “Dust.” It’s a lovely, contemplative track that showcases that Boeck is equally at home in indie-tinged Americana as she is on a Broadway stage. Continuing in a similar context, with tender harmonies and fingerpicking as a sound bed Canadian folk duo Ocie Elliott also consider the messy, uncertain, shifting sands of loving someone and the circular nature of giving of yourself to another in that most intimate way.

Guitarist and composer Ben Garnett announced his upcoming sophomore album earlier this week. Kite’s Keep arrives in October, heralded here with the first single, “Look Again,” and a live performance video of the bustling, prismatic track featuring Brittany Haas on fiddle and Ethan Jodziewicz on bass. It demonstrates the consistently thoughtful and outside-the-box approach Garnett takes in crafting solo acoustic guitar music that bridges jazz, bluegrass, new acoustic, and more.

The Far West, Los Angeles-based country strutters, tapped Dave Alvin as a guest for their brand new track, “Hope I Don’t Bleed.” Dropping next week on August 22, you can get a sneak preview of the vibing, psychedelic LA-canyons-via-swampy-bottoms tune below. And, wrapping us up, singer-songwriter Jon LaDeau draws inspiration from a long New York City to Bristol, Tennessee, drive with “East Tennessee Wrecker.” He’s joined by Emily Jackson on the new single and performance video, which features a lovely stripped down version of the track, unadorned and shining.

Whatever your favorite flavor of country, folk, and roots music, there’s something for you to enjoy herein. You Gotta Hear This!

Katie Boeck, “Dust”

Artist: Katie Boeck
Hometown: San Luis Obispo, California
Song: “Dust”
Release Date: August 15, 2025

In Their Words: “‘Dust’ came out of the ache of almost-love – the kind where someone lingers near your heart, but never fully arrives. I was thinking of the tortoise and the hare, but as a metaphor for emotional pacing between two people. It began as an ultimatum, but ended as an acceptance of what is – without clinging to what could’ve been. I recorded it with Shane Leonard (Anna Tivel, Humbird), a producer I’ve long admired, at his studio in Eau Claire, Wisconsin, live to tape, which was my first experience in that setting. Creatively, it was also an exercise in letting something be what it was in that moment, without all the modern temptations and expectations of perfection.” – Katie Boeck

Track Credits:
Katie Boeck – Vocals, guitars, songwriter
Joe Westerlund – Drums
Pat Keen – Bass
Paul Brandt – Keys
Shane Leonard – Drums, producer, mixing, mastering

Video Credit: Bella Mazzola, Twin Lantern Productions

Ocie Elliott, “By The Way”

Artist: Ocie Elliott
Hometown: Victoria, British Columbia, Canada
Song: “By The Way”
Album: Bungalow
Release Date: August 15, 2025 (single); October 24, 2025 (album)
Label: Nettwerk Music Group

In Their Words: “‘By The Way’ is a song about the beautiful mess of loving someone – choosing love not just in spite of challenging dynamics, but because of them. It’s a recognition that no matter how fleeting and uncertain the unfolding of a story may be, love is the constant that it always circles back to. The song was written after many months away on tour and it was one of the first melodies and chord progressions that came to me once I delved back into writing. Sometimes songs take a while to come into being, but this was one of those tunes that arrived almost fully formed.” – Jon Middleton

The Far West, “Hope I Don’t Bleed”

Artist: The Far West
Hometown: Los Angeles, California
Song: “Hope I Don’t Bleed” featuring Dave Alvin
Album: Everything We Thought We Wanted
Release Date: August 22, 2025 (single); September 26, 2025 (album)
Label: Blackbird Record Label

In Their Words: “I’d been kicking this one around for years, but could never find the arrangement I wanted to suit the lyrics. Aaron, Robert, and Brian really found the swampy vibe I couldn’t seem to. The bass puts this right in the pocket it needed to be, and having Dave Alvin tear a white-hot solo through it made it complete.

“Dave played this solo though my amp, which is a special little factoid for me. The amp is now blessed. My little Fender only has a volume and tone knob, and I used to tape the volume knob down at shows because the vibration of the amp would cause it to turn itself up as it rattled. I took the tape off in the studio. Dave likes things loud and either the amp turned itself up to 10 or he did, either way each take got louder.

“You can hear the amp being pressed to its absolute limit. I know he’s blown some bigger amps on stage, I was surprised my little amp survived. A few months after he laid down this solo, I saw him at the Astro Diner and mentioned we were listening back and ‘we think the amp turned itself up on you during the session’… he just looked at me and said, ‘No it didn’t.’ Anyway, this one is simply about being afraid of experiencing pain at death.” – Lee Briante

Ben Garnett, “Look Again”

Artist: Ben Garnett
Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee
Song: “Look Again”
Album: Kite’s Keep
Release Date: August 12, 2025 (single); October 10, 2025 (album)
Label: Padiddle Records

In Their Words: “‘Look Again’ is the first track on my sophomore studio album, Kite’s Keep. The album title loosely refers to this idea of a child’s inner world – a dreamscape where each song represents a different vignette of imagination.

“With ‘Look Again,’ I wanted the music to feel prismatic. As if to suggest an imaginative universe emerging from an ordinary one. I was interested in exploring, in musical terms, the idea that perception is never fixed. Like the old saying goes, ‘You never step in the same river twice’ – one also never sees the same thing twice. Any time we return to anything, it’s always different, with all things constantly in motion.

“On top of this, I had the immense joy of working with two musicians I deeply adore: Brittany Haas on fiddle and Ethan Jodziewicz on bass. Their performances brought the track to life in ways I couldn’t have imagined.” – Ben Garnett

Track Credits:
Ben Garnett – Guitar
Brittany Haas – Fiddle
Ethan Jodziewicz – Bass

Video Credits: Tessa Cokkinias – Cinematography
Ben Garnett – Video

Jon LaDeau, “East Tennessee Wrecker”

Artist: Jon LaDeau
Hometown: Brooklyn, New York
Song: “East Tennessee Wrecker” featuring Emily Jackson
Album: Chateau LaDeau
Release Date: August 22, 2025
Label: Adhyâropa Records

In Their Words: “‘East Tennessee Wrecker’ is a song that has been picking at me for a long time. Several years ago, I was traveling with my band from Brooklyn, NY to Bristol, TN to play at the Bristol Rhythm and Roots Reunion. It’s about a 10-hour drive and for some reason our navigation system was counting down the hours until we arrived at East Tennessee Wrecker. We didn’t know what that was, but discovered upon arriving in the area that it was a towing service that I believe has since changed names. For some reason that title got imprinted in my mind and as time went by the structure of a song began to reveal itself.

“I recorded the guitars, bass, and drums in my studio in Brooklyn and when the music felt right, I was lucky to have Emily Jackson come by and sing a duet with me to tie it all together. We sang together live into one mic and that’s what you hear on the album. I brought this version of the song to David Butler and he fleshed out the arrangement by adding a second drum set, a drum machine, and some sparse keyboard stuff. I’m really happy with how this one came out and I feel lucky that D. James Goodwin was available to really bring the performances we captured to their full sonic potential by mixing and mastering.

“At the heart of the song it’s really just acoustic guitar and vocals, so I wanted to capture a stripped down version as well. Aaron Cassara filmed Emily and I singing it at The Scratcher here in the East Village, NYC. I’ve been very fortunate to work out a lot of my songs here over the years during their Sunday night music series so it felt natural to capture a version of the song in the same way you would hear it live in a room that means so much to me. This song seems to reinforce the feelings of connection I have to my community. I hope that it lifts up anyone who gives it a listen.” – Jon LaDeau

Photo Credit: Katie Boeck by New Norm Studios; Ben Garnett by Natia Cinco.

Basic Folk: Joe K. Walsh

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Joe K. Walsh grew up in Duluth, Minnesota, and became enthralled with the mandolin (his primary focus, currently) after hearing the first David Grisman Quintet record. His dad got the young Joe his own mando. He ended up getting very serious about the instrument and found himself studying at Berklee College of Music in Boston (where he is now on faculty in the string department). Joe, in fact, was the first mandolin student at Berklee in a town that is now flooded with amazing mandolin players. His already strong sense of community and collaboration led him to becoming a main player in the Boston scene with his string band Joy Kills Sorrow, and with the Gibson Brothers. He now resides in Portland, Maine, and plays solo as well as with Mr. Sun, a group led by fiddler Darol Anger.

LISTEN: APPLE • SPOTIFY • AMAZON • MP3

In our Basic Folk conversation, we talk about taking over at Berklee after the death of professor John McGann, a beloved trad player who recorded with David Grisman, Mark O’Connor, Tim O’Brien, and the Boston Pops, among others. Joe addresses the question of whether bringing folk music into a college setting is “academizing” it or perhaps “folking” music academia. He also gets into hot button issues like improv, simplicity, and restraint. And, of course, he finally reveals his true feelings about the “other” Joe Walsh. Joe’s new instrumental album, Trust and Love, is a peaceful listen in these wild times. I’m happy to know Joe and have already benefited from his friendship! He and his wife gave my family a ton of baby hand-me-downs that have proved so useful. Everyone has a friend in Joe. K Walsh.

Read our feature interview with Joe K. Walsh on his latest album, Trust and Love, here.

Photo Credit: Natalie Conn

Gimme That Old-Time
Non-Monogamy

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

At times frowned upon or occasionally slandered, covers are as deep-rooted as the songs and the emerald valleys that have produced them.

Indeed, covers stir discussion, spark research, and add another patch to the great heart-sewn embroidery of music. Fashioned in a similar vein to the original – that’s flattery. When a song circles across genre divides, well, that’s an enriching voyage.

The members of Kissing Other ppl – Rachel Baiman and folk duo Viv & Riley – see their endeavor not just as an individual artistic sojourn but as a larger opportunity to establish a collective conversation. Here, they’ve taken a handful of mostly rock and pop songs and blended, marinated, and sautéed them in unfamiliar flavors. The end results turned out nearer to their own identities.

“I grew up playing traditional Appalachian style,” said Riley. “This is not that!”

Baiman is a sincere and dogged lyricist, with a harmonious ear and a top contender’s punch. She grew up in Chicago, with a factory-made violin in her hands and an insatiable curiosity for why and how music could conform and contort to her swiftly evolving moods. Somewhere along the line, she started getting serious about music and purchased a John Silakowski five-string fiddle on a lengthy installment plan. She arrived in Nashville at age 18, riding fragile finances. Slogging on foot, lugging her fiddle in a hard, cumbersome case, she lacked the extra dollars to hail a taxi. Her odd jobs were many: dog walking; catering; reading novels and writing summaries for a sociology professor; she once even held a job organizing a comedy contest. But a fearless, tenacious sense of purpose compelled her to stick with music.

Pondering all of these circumstances in her heart, Baiman released several persuasive projects, including Shame (2017) and Common Nation of Sorrow (2023). Riley Calcagno, one half of the contemplative folk duo Viv & Riley, added stringed support and pre-production assets to one of Rachel’s albums.

Subsequently, Baiman asked Riley and Vivian Leva (the other half of the duo) if they’d be willing to join her on tour, where long hours on the road were spent in between gigs consuming, swapping, and contemplating music. Baiman’s traditional background taught her how to fully perceive a recording – whether an old fiddle tune or multi-generational, passed down ballad, or even a contemporary pop song – to not only hear it superficially, but to visualize its promise. Through prolonged stretches of asphalt and expressway, she’d oftentimes wonder what she, if given the opportunity, could bring to a certain song.

 

@kissing.other.ppl♬ original sound – kissingotherpplband

“The idea stems from Rachel’s musical generosity and curiosity and the extended times in those van rides,” said Riley. “Eventually, the songs included were the ones that we’d all individually had been listening to and were moved by. Songs that had stopped us in our tracks at different realms of our lives. Songs that hit us emotionally or otherwise… spontaneously contributed in the week that we recorded them.”

Some of Riley’s earliest memories are of his father’s fondness of traditional music. His father played the guitar, fiddle, mandolin, and banjo. At age 3, the younger Calcagno expressed interest in the fiddle. Though he was raised in an unrelentingly urban environment in the heart of Seattle he was never far from the folksy hospitality of music: square dances, jams, and potlucks. At the Wintergrass Music Festival in Bellevue, Washington, he formed connections with musicians originating from the sparsest, most countrified swaths of the state.

“I discovered an authentic-feeling bluegrass scene in the state and an old-time rural music scene on the West Coast that was kept going by people living in cities,” he explained, “and I don’t see that at all as contradictory.”

Like many other kids his age who grew up in Seattle, beginning in middle school, Riley burned liberal hours listening to local indie rock, though the attachment he had made with traditional music would override all else. He met Vivian Leva at a music camp in the Seattle area which emphasized the cultural importance of preserving long-standing traditions.

“I was a fan of Viv’s parents’ music,” said Riley. “We started playing music right away. Viv is a gifted songwriter. We started passing ideas back and forth. That was eight years ago.”

Vivian Leva was born and raised in Lexington, Virginia, in the Shenandoah Valley close to the abounding cultural and geographical influences of Charlottesville, Roanoke, and the Blue Ridge Mountains. It’s a small town with a deep worship of bluegrass and old-time narratives.

“Before I was born, it was a big hub of old-time traditional music,” said Viv. “Young people moved here for the rich, blossoming scene. My dad came here at 18 and stayed forever.”

Viv’s father, too, took a particular interest in the fiddle, traveling to neighboring counties and states to observe and jam. Her mother sang and guitar-picked, emulating and scrutinizing the local and regional ballads she had fallen in love with. They attended old-time fiddler’s conventions as a family. And when her parents formed a duo and headed out on the highway, sometimes she would share in such jaunts first-hand.

“When I was little I went on tour with them for a bit,” said Viv. “As a teenager, I was playing in my dad’s bands. As a kid he would bring me up to sing a song on stage.”

Certainly, music has long filled the souls of Rachel, Viv, and Riley with good things – and Kissing Other ppl is a remembrance of affection as much as it is a representation of impression. Indeed, Baiman said that Kissing Other ppl is a natural extension of her – and her counterparts’ – inquisitiveness, their attempt to understand the mysterious processes of expression, meaning, and memory.

“In reality,” said Rachel, “I don’t think any band or musical project should attempt monogamy, because you miss out on so many opportunities to learn and grow and bring new inspiration back to your main role.”

Similar to Rachel, Viv finds original songwriting to be a sacred, mysterious place to dwell. But she also believes that covers are a part of the whole process of an artist’s maturity, the recognition of the music of one’s friends, mentors, neighbors, and across-the-board community.

“There can be a stigma about covers,” she said. “You can’t make it your own. You are not creative enough to make your own music. It’s a shortcut. It’s a cop out. But as someone who has written a lot of songs and released a lot of records of original music, and plans to do so in the future, I don’t see it that way. It is an acknowledgment of how being inspired by other people’s music is such an important part of creating your own music. You can’t make your own music in a vacuum.”

“Anytime that you are playing a song, you are creating it again in the moment, and re-interpreting in your own way,” added Riley. “Whether it is a cover or an old traditional song, you still have the power to sing it and do it in a way that really moves someone.”

Baiman said the intuitive, empathetic nature of the type of music she plays requires that she be an attentive observer as well as a cordial, broad-minded learner – prerequisites for a collaboration of this sort.

“I think that having a background in old-time and fiddle music in general really prepares you to be a musician who listens,” said Rachel. “If you approach any musical situation with the mindset of, ‘Can I do something to help support the group musically here?’, that goes a long way.

“Old-time really prepares you for the idea that your best contribution might be not to play at all. The bar is really high for joining in, you have to make sure you’re adding something that isn’t already there, and you’re not dragging down the groove. That’s part of the etiquette of informal jamming and it translates to professional playing.”

A fine cover such as the group’s rendition of Wilco’s “Ashes of American Flags” not only illuminates a previous desire, elevating or enriching it with brand new urgency, but in some fashion it obliges the total re-evaluation of the original.

“There are people who are not able to handle ‘Ashes of American Flags’ because of the context, or they come from a different generation, or they don’t like Jeff Tweedy singing it,” said Riley. “Why not give a song like that another chance or give it another life? If you have a song that’s fun, or one that hits hard, emotionally, lyrically, or harmonically, maybe you can add to it, instead of just burying it on a playlist.”

Riley notes that many of the greatest records and biggest chart sellers are in fact cover-centric productions, though they might not have been advertised or promoted as such at the time. Many great albums are rife with songs written by others, sometimes entire roomfuls of songwriters on Music Row. Many memorable albums, such as Bob Dylan’s 1962 self-titled debut, only have a small number of originals; among the traditional folk and blues arrangements, Dylan’s had but two.

Indeed, Kissing Other ppl simply builds on a long tradition of artists rearranging songs that they like and then reinserting them back into the public sphere of approval.

“We seem to be obsessed with originality in our current moment and society,” said Riley. “But we are also at a time when art and – the pursuit of it – is less funded and less valued monetarily than ever. So many of the great records that we love are cover records. Ours isn’t heavy-handed.”

Perhaps one sterling example of a cover album that marvelously nudged old material into fresh fields was Tim O’Brien’s Red on Blonde, on which O’Brien grabbed a handful of Dylan songs, tinkered with their framework, and dragged them into bluegrass brightness. Many of these songs have stuck around since the album’s release in 1996 and bluegrass buffs routinely call out titles such as “Señor (Tales of Yankee Power)” and “Farewell Angelina.”

One of the record’s most memorable tracks is a rendition of Jason Molina’s “Hold On Magnolia,” which draws out the spookily and eerily beautiful essence of the inscrutable artist’s mystifying original. Rachel’s fiddle punctuates the abstract stylishness with characteristic splendor and aplomb.

“Jason Molina [1973-2013] was one of the greatest songwriters,” said Riley. “He grew up in Lorain, Ohio, and he went to Oberlin College, where I went. He had a rough life and died of alcohol-related complications. He left so much amazing music behind… if even one person hears our version and goes and listens to his records then it is a job well done.”

Alluding to Molina, Viv noted the deferential nature of covers and their special reward.

“That’s the cool element of doing a record of covers,” she said. “You can inspire people with that special song that resonates and if they haven’t heard of that artist, they can go back and listen to their work.”

On both “Hold On Magnolia” and “Ashes of American Flags,” Viv found herself in the new position of playing the drums. She sensed the two songs required the presence of drums and their inclusion was inspired by her simple desire to test the unfamiliar.

“One of the incentives I had to go to guitar lessons when I was younger was that my teacher would let me play drums for the last ten minutes of the lesson,” said Viv. “During COVID, Riley surprised me with a drum kit. He got an electric guitar. We were having fun during the lockdown in our basement. We were doing less folk music, and experimenting with instruments outside of the immediate folk genre. So, I took a crack at it.”

“I think it is a testament to the spirit of making the record that we felt comfortable putting her on the drums,” added Riley. “[Producer] Greg D. Griffith made the snare drums sound huge and awesome, adding a big element to the tracks.”

One song that Viv introduced to the project was “Born to Lose” by Waylon Payne, and the diversity in these respective arrangements is startling: Payne’s original was supported by a complete country band; the new offering is sagaciously stripped down, extracting every syllable of bitterness, sorrow, self-loathing, and private turmoil from the lyrics.

“I had been particularly into this artist, Waylon Payne,” said Viv. “His vocals are really fascinating to me. His ornamentation is really incredible. I spent a lot of time trying to figure out what he was doing. I was definitely interested in trying to get his vocal ornaments similar, because I think that they are really beautiful.”

The spacey, moody “Where’d All the Time Go?” by Doctor Dog was another one of Rachel’s proposals.

“That is a fun song to do as a trio, because of its echoing harmony parts,” said Viv. “I would have never picked that song for myself to learn. That’s what made it challenging. It took me outside of my vocal comfort zone, and that was a fun challenge for me.”

The name of the band, Kissing Other ppl, is a teasing affirmation of one of the pop songs covered on the album, a soft, mischievous Lennon Stella song released in 2020.

“It has a fun and flirty vibe,” said Riley, “but it also gets to something funny and true about relationships. It captures the lightness of the experience of playing music and hanging out, and not taking yourself too seriously. It was Rachel’s idea and she stuck with it. It is awkward and funny, and why not? Life is short.”

Baiman said the namesake reveals a good-natured admittance of the diversionary quality of art.

“Coming from two different projects that are based in original music and collaborating on cover songs,” said Rachel, “we chose the band name as a playful nod to the idea that we were cheating on our own projects by trying something different and new.”

The trio intends to take their reincarnated versions on the road. Beyond that they have no fixed plans to continue – or, for that matter, discontinue – sewing and hemming their skills and interests together.

Indeed, sustained in its own special love and humility, kissing other ppl expresses not just innovative lyricism and beautiful buzzes, but a powerful sense of understanding. What Rachel, Viv, and Riley all agree on is that the genre or style of its communication is less important than the nourishing energy and want that necessitated its assembly.

“In the end, a lot of the songs are ambiguous,” said Viv. “It is hard to say exactly what some of the songs are about. We are not spelling out what you should be thinking or feeling. It’s just cool to see how other people are able to communicate things in totally different ways than how you would communicate them. But somehow it still hits you.”

Photos courtesy of the artist.

You Gotta Hear This: New Music From Jack Schneider, Elexa Dawson, and More

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Bluegrass and folk, Americana and country – it’s another excellent serving of new music in our weekly roundup!

Beloved long-running bluegrass group Lonesome River Band have a new single out today, “Square Dance Friday Night,” which you can hear below. Written by LRB member and artist-songwriter Jesse Smathers, it’s the perfect track for New Music Friday whether or not a square dance is in your future – and of course, one should be. You’ll also find a preview of an upcoming track from singer-songwriter Elexa Dawson, “Roots Grow,” in our collection. Drawing on connections to land and ecology, it’s a string-Americana examination of the cycles of life; it readily shows how and why Dawson can often be found on the folk charts.

Don’t miss Kentucky’s Nicholas Jamerson joined by Rachel Baiman on his new song, which drops today. “How Sunday Feels” is more than apt in its vibey, grooving observations of toxicity and duplicity in religion and belief systems. Impeccable guitarist, singer, and songwriter Jack Schneider, who’s a delightful collapser and combiner of genres and eras, also debuted a new single this week as well.  Check out”Stone’s Throw Away,” a Barbara Keith cover that fits Schneider – and his upcoming album, Streets Of September –downright perfectly, shining with an indie-folk gilt.

We also have a special video treat this week, as we’re picking up and sharing a few performance videos from singer-songwriter Rachel McIntyre Smith from her Honeysuckle Friend Sessions series, which has been running on her social media and YouTube channel since October. Starting today and continuing over the next several weeks, we’ll share a series of three Honeysuckle Friend Sessions by McIntyre Smith and her musical friends and collaborators celebrating her recent EP. This edition features Smith in duet with Rebecca Lee Daniels offering a lovely rendition of Dolly Parton’s “Coat of Many Colors.”

Wherever you like your roots music to grow, there’s always a superb song just a stone’s throw away in our weekly roundup. You Gotta Hear This!

Elexa Dawson, “Roots Grow”


(Click to listen)

Artist: Elexa Dawson
Hometown: Emporia, Kansas
Song: “Roots Grow”
Album: Stay Put
Release Date: August 15, 2025 (single); September 12, 2025 (album)
Label: Turns Out Records

In Their Words: “‘Roots Grow’ is a celebration of the cycles of life. It can’t be all ‘love and light’ all the time. When times get hard, I look to the world around me, to the trees and animals, and I see lots of things that thrive in darkness. I think we can channel that energy and get through the dark times facing us with the help of the tree folk, who are a lot older and smarter than we are.” – Elexa Dawson

Track Credits:
Elexa Dawson – Vocals, acoustic guitar
Melissa Tastove – Vocals, shaker, djembe
Peter Oviatt – Vocals, shaker, claps, Juno 6 Polyphonic synth, banjo
Kelby Kimberlin – Bass
John Depew – Claps, mandolin
Sarah Bays – Melodica

Nicholas Jamerson, “How Sunday Feels” featuring Rachel Baiman

Artist: Nicholas Jamerson
Hometown: Prestonsburg, Kentucky
Song: “How Sunday Feels” featuring Rachel Baiman
Album: The Narrow Way
Release Date: August 8, 2025 (single); September 12, 2025 (album)
Label: Cloverdale

In Their Words: “This song was inspired by some keyboard warriors who use religion as a weapon of condemnation, rather than a tool of liberation from their own ego. Universally, I hope anyone who’s using their beliefs, whether religious, political, or philosophical, as a shield to judge and harm others will hear this song and maybe stop and think before speaking so critically about others.” – Nicholas Jamerson

Track Credits:
Nicholas Jamerson – Vocals, acoustic guitar, songwriter
Rachel Baiman – Fiddle, vocals, songwriter
Josh Oliver – Electric guitar, organ
Steve Haan – Bass
Mark Raudabaugh – Drums

Lonesome River Band, “Square Dance Friday Night”

Artist: Lonesome River Band
Hometown: Floyd, Virginia
Song: “Square Dance Friday Night”
Release Date: August 8, 2025
Label: Mountain Home Music Company

In Their Words: “‘Square Dance Friday Night,’ written by our bandmate Jesse Smathers, is a story of years gone by in rural America. Growing up in the 1970s, I played so many square dances and gatherings attended by the unique characters described in this song. So many friendships were built in the VFW halls and community centers that lasted forever. Music and dancing was the main source of entertainment for working class folks and it was the way to end the week with celebration!” – Sammy Shelor

“The tie between playing music and dancing is a huge part of the culture along the Appalachian mountains. Growing up, I remember cutting my teeth playing music for dancers at local venues along the North Carolina/Virginia line. It has always been a beautiful community event. ‘Square Dance Friday Night’ is your invitation to a night full of fun and tells of some of the interesting characters you may meet while there.” – Jesse Smathers

Track Credits:
Sammy Shelor – Banjo
Jesse Smathers – Acoustic guitar, lead vocal, songwriter
Mike Hartgrove – Fiddle
Adam Miller – Mandolin, harmony vocal
Kameron Keller – Upright bass
Rod Riley – Electric guitar

Rachel McIntyre Smith, “Coat of Many Colors” featuring Rebecca Lee Daniels (Honeysuckle Friend Sessions)

Artist: Rachel McIntyre Smith with Rebecca Lee Daniels
Hometown: Oliver Springs, Tennessee
Song: “Coat of Many Colors”
Latest Album: Honeysuckle Friend (Deluxe)
Release Date: August 13, 2025 (video); June 27, 2025 (deluxe EP)

In Their Words: “Rebecca Lee Daniels is one of my favorite singer-songwriters, so I was thrilled when she agreed to be part of my series, the Honeysuckle Friend Sessions. Since moving to Nashville, she has become one of my closest friends in the music scene. We chose this song because we are both East Tennessee girls who love Dolly Parton. I think we recorded this in just one or two takes, because it’s such a go-to song for both of us. I’m so excited for BGS to partner with me on three sessions in this series. Keep an eye out in two weeks for another Honeysuckle Friend Session right here on BGS as part of ‘You Gotta Hear This.'” – Rachel McIntyre Smith

“It’s so meaningful to sing with one of my closest friends and collaborators – on my favorite Dolly Parton song, no less! Rachel and I share a common thread with Dolly in that we’re all three Appalachian women raised in the foothills of East Tennessee. As an artist who writes and releases Appalachian- and bluegrass-centric music, being featured in BGS is more meaningful than I can put into words and I’m so grateful to Rachel for the opportunity!” – Rebecca Lee Daniels

Track Credits:
Rebecca Lee Daniels – Guitar, vocals
Rachel McIntyre Smith – Vocals

Video Credit: Filmed and edited by Rachel McIntyre Smith.

Jack Schneider, “Stone’s Throw Away”

Artist: Jack Schneider
Hometown: Atlanta, Georgia
Song: “Stone’s Throw Away”
Album: Streets Of September
Release Date: August 6, 2025 (single); September 19, 2025 (album)

In Their Words: “My mission as a singer-songwriter is not to just perform my own compositions, but to preserve the music that inspires me, especially the hidden gems that deserve to find their way out into the world.

“Discovering Barbara Keith, who wrote and originally performed ‘Stone’s Throw Away,’ was serendipitous. I was in New York record-shopping with guitar historian Maple Byrne and it was he who stumbled upon a copy of Barbara Keith’s self-titled record. He insisted that I check it out, so I bought it at his recommendation. When I listened, it was almost spiritual how deeply Barbara’s songs moved me, specifically ‘Stone’s Throw Away,’ because of the line, ‘Georgia never looked so good as it does in Tennessee.’ Every now and then someone else’s words align with your own lived experience and this song is a perfect example of that for me.

“Recording it on my new record was also serendipitous. I had made a 4-track cassette demo of this song at one point, purely for my own amusement, and when my producer Matt Andrews (Gillian Welch, Dawes) came across the demo in a folder, we put it in the mix. Matt, never having heard the original version, liked how well it connected to the narrative theme of the other songs we’d selected. I am thrilled with how it turned out. Above all I am just hopeful to be able to draw more people’s attention to the music of Barbara Keith. She is incredible and I hope this version of her song does it the justice that it deserves.” – Jack Schneider

Track Credits:
Jack Schneider – Electric guitar, lead vocal
Camille Thornton – Electric guitar, vocal harmony
Wendy Moten – Vocal harmony
Dominic Billett – Drums
Jared Manzo – Bass
Matt Andrews – Organ

Photo Credit: Jack Schneider by Annie Loughead; Elexa Dawson by Lifeleak Visuals.

Eli West: Timber and Timbre

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Eli West first rose to prominence in the acoustic music world as part of a duo with fellow singer-songwriter Cahalen Morrison. After creating three highly regarded albums together in the 2010s, West set off on his own. In 2016, he released The Both, featuring appearances by folks like Dori Freeman and Bill Frissell and on 2021’s well-received Tapered Point of Stone, West led a band that included Watchhouse’s Andrew Marlin and Clint Mullican and fiddler Christian Sedelmyer (Jerry Douglas Band).

This summer, the Seattle-based musician delivered his third solo album, The Shape of a Sway, where he is backed by his current sidemen, fiddler Patrick M’Gonigle and bassist Forest Marowitz, along with longtime collaborator Matt Flinner (mandolin, banjo) and an old college buddy, Peter Hatch (harmonium, piano).

West didn’t take a straight line to becoming a professional musician. Although he played violin and guitar growing up in the Pacific Northwest, he studied visual arts and political science in college. Then he headed east, where he went to timber framing schools in Vermont and Maine. Returning to Seattle, he got a job as a graphic designer.

Dissatisfied with his 9-to-5 existence, he quit his desk job after several years and went to Seattle’s Bainbridge Graduate Institute to study business. About halfway through, he realized business school wasn’t for him. It was around this time that West, who was getting more interested in bluegrass, met Morrison. He quickly decided to take a big leap and start playing and touring with Morrison. “My 30s were my 20s and it was awesome,” he shares with BGS. “And music was the means for that.”

West took some time to talk about his new album and his life while loading up a rental truck with timber frame kit to take to Orcas Island off the coast of Washington, where he and his wife own the Victorian Valley wedding chapel.

The Shape of a Sway is your third solo album. What type of a musical evolution do you see with this album?

Eli West: [With] each sequential record since my project with Cahalen, I’ve just been kind of establishing myself as a solo artist and singing my own music.

Tapered Point of Stone occurred right after my dad died and then this [album] occurred right after I became a dad. And making it halfway through life, turning 40, thinking about the second half. So, there’s kind of a transition theme. Looking up to someone and then all of a sudden looking down to my kids. Kind of switching teachers. My parents were my teachers and now my kids are my teachers. That’s a really abrupt shift.

I was writing for my last two records, but with this record I’m finally singing my songs that matter to me in a way that if they fall on other ears and feel good, I’m stoked. But I’m mostly happy with them as my own journal entries.

You have said you had something of a late start as a songwriter. How did your recent significant life events – your father dying, you getting married, and having children – influence your songwriting?

It took me so long to start songwriting, because I felt like I was cocky if I was putting my songs out if I hadn’t lived life. So, I needed to experience death. I needed to experience life on the other end, being a dad. I just didn’t have enough to say until then. It felt arrogant to do that without those experiences.

I have more certainty in whatever I’m doing. And I honestly needed a few years to think about my dad dying before I became a dad. And that certitude I feel in my music now, too.

I’m not writing to anything. I’m writing for myself. I have a lot of friends in Nashville, but I hate Nashville, because everyone’s writing to something. Not everybody, but there’s a big trend of writing to something to get awards or get someone to cover it – you know, that kind of thing.

How did you select the ten songs – did you pick them because they felt like a piece or because they were the ones ready to record?

It’s half matchmaking and half just the dam breaking because it was time. Making sense of getting half of your life, getting married, settling down, not road-dogging anymore, and ultimately deciding to have kids. So the matchmaking was finding the songs that spoke truth to being a new parent, I guess.

Are there tunes that you feel especially stand out to you from a songwriter’s perspective?

Well, “Ever Lovin Need To Know” doesn’t have a lot of meaning and it’s kind of filling syllables and it just feels good. It had meaning, but it was more about the feeling of the song than the content. “Spite and Love” is maybe the other end, where I had read this article in the New York Times about crows holding grudges and that just kind of launched it. I’m really proud of the lyrical content of that song.

And what songs served as the impetus for the album?

“Ever Lovin Need To Know” kind of felt like the tipping point where I could start assembling songs… And then “Rocks and Trees” is the most pertinent to my current situation. I have a nine-month-old daughter and that is speaking to that reality of who she is in my life.

“Rocks and Trees” also contains the line that you used for the album’s title.

Yeah, I don’t like naming a record after a song title. I think picking a lyric is way more interesting. I think there’s more satisfaction in finding that as a listener, than having a song title be the album title. So, “the shape of a sway” was kind of a secondary line that ended up meaning a lot to me. I have this newborn daughter, and I feel like I really know her not in a cognitive sense, but in a feeling sense. And “the shape of a sway” is this kind of different way to know somebody.

It feels like your lyrics often concern people exploring, examining, and searching for answers, but you don’t necessarily provide answers or explanations. Also, several songs (“All The Saints,” and the cover of Jean Ritchie’s “Cool of the Day”) have spiritual or religious imagery. Is this intentional or coincidental?

I’m glad you brought that up. I grew up in the church but then realized there’s just such a bigger common denominator than religion to get to know the world and people. So, I’ve happily delivered myself from that. But I think I ask better questions of myself because I acknowledge that human experience is bigger than any one religion.

I’m kind of looking back on those religious questions with a humanist empirical perspective, and I think that’s pretty fascinating to look back at the same questions but have a deeper well of experience and knowledge.

Was it difficult to quit the more structured world of graphic design and later business grad school for a life of a musician?

I think we’re all trying to reclaim this word “freedom” in this time and the definition of freedom for me was choosing a creative pursuit. There was some privilege and luxury in that, but it just felt like freedom. And I am grateful.

Has your background in design influenced the way you make music, similar to the connection that people have drawn between music and math?

Yes, spatial thinking – relative understanding based on space – what it feels like to be in one room and look into another room. I think of music and arrangements like that. The flow of walking through space and anticipation and memory, that’s really how I navigate music. That sounds kind of cocky, but I think you know what I mean.

You have talked about how collaborations are important to you. And this album features performers who you are familiar with (Patrick M’Gonigle, Forest Marowitz, Peter Hatch, and Matt Flinner). So, I was wondering how you walked the line with the arrangements and the collaborating, when it’s your name on the cover.

Yeah, I think any relationship [involves] grabbing onto the things that are important. The first line of this “Rocks and Trees” song is “a heavy rock that’s lightly held.” So, how to grab on to important things, but not white-knuckle them. I mean, I had this a few times, mostly in relationships, but also in musical collaborations that you seize the moment, but you don’t pretend it’s eternal.

And there’s a kind of like healthy promiscuity in music that just feeds the creative side. That said, this band that I play with right now – I feel so lucky. They’re just some of my favorite musicians. Besides Matt, we’re all in the Northwest now. And I think beyond anything, that’s why I do this – it’s just to play music with pals that I appreciate.

I had tried to record this a year previous, [and] it was basically too lightly held. I went in with a framework, but not enough rehearsing or structure around mostly [the] arrangements. And it was a great session. Those songs sound great. But it just didn’t have that kind of cohesive thing. So, I think my ideal process is leaving like 20% to be determined the day of recording. And then like that shit is always so great. But I need the 80% structure there.

You play a rather impressive variety of instruments. Guitar is your main instrument, but you play mandolin on this album’s two original instrumentals (“Gentleman’s Bulldog” and “Thanks and Sorry”). And you also play banjo and pedal steel. Do you feel like you have a particular facility with playing instruments?

I did Suzuki violin as a kid, which focuses mostly on ear training and that really helps to be fluid on instruments later in life. So, I’m really grateful for this Suzuki method!

This album has a little less bluegrass sound to it. Songs like “Spite and Love” and your reworking of Paul Simon’s “Hearts and Bones,” in particular, have real adventurous arrangements. Listening to it, the album sounds more genre-less – in a good way.

Yes, I am without genre. I just am drawn to good music, and I don’t like bad music. That’s how I define genre. There’s a lot of whim and not feeling bound to anything. So, that’s a freedom, and I kind of don’t care.

The Shape of a Sway also contains fewer instrumentals than your prior albums, was that by design?

I also love instrumental music…But the lyrical content of this record is important enough that I think that the instrumentals are just kind of supplemental.

You end the album with a real lively version of “I’d Rather Be A Train.” Was that on purpose?

[Chuckles] That Larry Sparks song was mostly just to make sure I still love bluegrass or to show that I love bluegrass.

Photo Credit: Jenny Jimenez

Basic Folk: Olive Klug

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Olive Klug and I recorded this interview in my closet while they were in Portland, Maine, to play a show. Along with their band Cori, Haley, and Payton they stayed with us and it was a real pleasure to be around them for a few days. You can tell that Olive is at their best around their band and it is a true collaboration on stage. Shoutout to the whole crew for leaving such a remarkable impression on me and my wife and for assembling some baby furniture while they were staying at our house.

In our conversation for Basic Folk, Olive takes us on a journey through their musical upbringing, exploring their childhood influences, including their father’s eclectic taste in ’60s and ’70s rock and folk. Olive discusses their love for Joni Mitchell and Taylor Swift, which inspired them to learn guitar and develop their own musical tastes. They provide insights into their early internet presence on platforms like YouTube and Tumblr, and how these shaped their creative expression and online identity.

LISTEN: APPLE • SPOTIFY • AMAZON • MP3

Olive also touches on their experience of transitioning to a music career, going viral on TikTok, and the emotional and practical challenges that come with it. Additionally, they delve into how their psychology background and neurodiversity inform their songwriting, live performances, and day-to-day life. Our conversation wraps up with thoughts on the productive chaos of touring, the importance of community in the folk world, and their aspirations for long-term, sustainable growth in the music industry. Everyone belongs at the Olive Klug show. They leave their glow wherever their travels take them.

 

@oliveklugThe gay cowboys keep leaving nashvillea title=”♬ original sound – Olive Klug” href=”https://www.tiktok.com/music/original-sound-7519310944065817375?refer=embed” target=”_blank” rel=”noopener”>♬ original sound – Olive Klug

Photo Credit: Alex Steed