Tag: Folk

Want to Write a Protest Song? Read This First

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

“There’s no such thing as someone else’s war
Your creature comforts aren’t the only things worth fighting for
Still breathing, it’s not too late
We’re all carrying one big burden, sharing one fate.”
                                                                                                  — Jason Isbell, “White Man’s World”

If one musical phenomenon united the year 2018 from the very moment the ball dropped over Times Square, it was the protest song. The soundtrack of the resistance clearly had enough time to percolate, deliberate, and incubate since our 45th president’s administration began in January 2017, because protest emerged as a recurring theme.

In the summer of 2017, Americana speak-your-mind hero Jason Isbell may have been the earliest adopter with “White Man’s World,” where he was decrying his own privilege while championing our common humanity and our shared fate. A year later, string band virtuosos Punch Brothers went so far as to name the elephant in the room and describe him thusly on “Jumbo:” “Whoa, here comes Jumbo with a knife and a tan/ And an elephant’s tail for his Instagram/ Grown up brave on the fat of the land of the free…”

Falling in line with this common theme, in an interview earlier this year River Whyless’ drummer Alex Waters described their creative process for their latest album, Kindness, A Rebel, as grappling with the fact that, “it’s just hard to avoid the elephant in the room as far as the current political situation and feeling like we didn’t say or do enough.” Boston-based bluegrass outfit, the Lonely Heartstring Band, opted to protest by not protesting — a press release described their single, “The Other Side,” as, “a song that takes no sides, but encourages empathy and understanding for people regardless of political beliefs.” Korby Lenker and Nora Jane Struthers took that perspective directly to far-right cable television show, Huckabee, performing a co-written plea for the sanctity of the dinner table, “Let’s Just Have Supper.”

Several issues arise when you start to consider the commonalities between all of these songs, the coincidence of their releases, and the apparent level to which political mayhem must reach before the greater community sees these songs as necessary. Look, we’ve got at least two more years of this level of political division and discourse ahead of us. Before you sit down to write your scathing, politically-minded, resistance-inspired anthem perhaps consider these few questions and suggestions:

Is this your story to tell?

Story songs and character songs can be sensationally moving and evocative, and they’re an integral part of American roots music’s songwriting traditions, but writers should be careful not to simply co-opt and capitalize on stories, concepts, ideas, and experiences of a marginalized person or group of people. Try not to appropriate any identity or culture, especially if there are marginalized voices out there already telling these stories. Which leads us neatly to the next question:

Is a marginalized or underprivileged person already telling this story?

One of the best ways folks can utilize their privilege to support resistance and activism is to pointedly and intentionally step aside to let a marginalized person own their own stories, their truths, and to be able to speak to those stories and truths. Ask yourself if telling a certain story, especially someone else’s story, could deny someone else their agency. Use your privilege, whether it be simply tied to your identity or to your professional position, to bring in the voices of forgotten folks who are already telling these stories. Use their points of view to strengthen and reinforce yours, rather than assuming that, by taking on these stories of our own accord, we’re strengthening and reinforcing those who don’t have the access or advantages that we have.

Furthermore, is this song already written?

Consider how galvanized our intersectional movements can be if we draw upon all of our constituent strengths from each and every individual’s personal story. Think of the power of protest music from across the generations. If your song is “already written,” it doesn’t mean that your feelings and your convictions are invalid. It means you aren’t alone. Your goals are the goals of someone — perhaps many someones else. Sometimes you just don’t need to reinvent the wheel.

Stay away from rhetoric such as “we’re better than this,” “this is not who we are,” “we should go back to the way things used to be,” etc.

Ask yourself if the particular phenomenon you’re writing about is truly unprecedented and unique to this era. For instance, indigenous Americans’ experiences are erased if we allow ourselves to believe the narrative that this is the first time our country has detained and imprisoned thousands of children. What about decrying the travel ban on majority-Muslim countries? Not a new occurrence, either. Mourning innocent drone deaths? Those casualty numbers actually don’t neatly correlate to which party holds the White House, as one might assume.

Try to avoid opining for “normalcy” or to “go back to normal.”

As individuals from almost any marginalized people group in this country would be happy to report, there is not an “again” to which we can return the United States that would truly be best, better, or “great” for all Americans. Whether we’re talking about Native Americans, stolen African slaves, African Americans, Americans with disabilities, LGBTQ+ Americans, or women in America — none of these groups have ever enjoyed a period of time in this country that was truly, equally great for any or all of the above. Wishing for something that never existed, except perhaps to the most privileged Americans throughout history, is the self-fulfilling prophecy of erasure at work. There ain’t no such thing as the good ol’ days.

Consider your audience, but not too closely.

Are you writing a protest song knowing that the majority, if not the entirety, of your audience already agrees with you? If so, why? Landing ourselves in echo chambers of our own political and ideological views doesn’t actually do anyone any good. Are you writing the song as a pat on the back? However, having an audience that may diametrically oppose your personal beliefs doesn’t mean that any subject, any cause, or any identity, is yours to take on as your gauntlet. Keep in mind, the most relatable songs, especially politically-minded or motivated songs, are at their best when they’re truly personal.

Speak to your own experiences, unapologetically, and speak to others’ as they relate to yours. It’s called being human. But, don’t get too bogged down considering your audience, either. If you find yourself debating whether or not a song is right for a certain audience, it’s time for a privilege check. Is your anti-gun anthem the best fit for an audience in rural Montana? Maybe not. But consider the artists and songwriters out in the world whose identities are already politicized. The trans artist. The songwriter who uses a wheelchair. An artist of color.

There is no choice, when any of these artists come into the spotlight, of whether or not the political statement of their very existence is too much for their audience. If you are able to avoid a certain song or a political point of view for the convenience of potentially not offending someone, you have an ability that many artists do not possess. That should be in the front of your mind each time you take the stage to find an audience with which you might not feel totally comfortable. For some artists, every audience conjures that feeling. Directly in the face of their art.

Are you simply, innocently following a songwriting trend?

Nope. You’re complicit. Stop. If you’re writing a protest song simply because it’s “in,” something is very broken. (Not capitalism though. That would be very much in tact.)

Write your truth!

Write what you feel. Write what pours out. Let it be personal, let it be real and vulnerable, let it process all of the confusing, complicated, and often treacherous peaks and valleys that we’ve all been crossing together these days. If you’ll stop and consider a few of these points listed above with kindness and empathy, and if you continue with only one metric against which you measure yourself, let it be this: that you are as true to yourself and your truth as you are careful and cautious with the selfhood and truths of others. Carry that with you and you almost can’t go wrong.

Isbell has it pretty much right. And he’ll be the first to admit that he wasn’t the first person to conceptualize the straightforward profundity in his lyrics. We really do all share a common fate–and our own creature comforts, however they’re provided to us, cannot be the only factors that we consider. It’s going to require active, progressive change, allyship realized as a verb, not a noun, to take what has begun as simply a quorum of protest songs from the past year and morph them into a true vehicle for change on the right side of history.

“I’m a white man living in a white man’s nation
I think the man upstairs must’a took a vacation
I still have faith, but I don’t know why
Maybe it’s the fire in my little girl’s eyes…”

Photo by Daniel Jackson

Missy Raines: A Traveller Through Generations of Bluegrass

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Bassist and singer/songwriter Missy Raines has spent the majority of her life on the road — she began professionally touring with bluegrass bands as a teenager. Early on, she supplied the low end to acts like Eddie and Martha Adcock and Claire Lynch Band, but the greater part of her past musical decade has been spent fronting her own band, the New Hip, and exploring genre-bending terrain on the fringes of bluegrass. Royal Traveller, her brand new album, sheds the New Hip moniker, but keeps the exploration, inspired by the handle of a suitcase and her ever-nomadic life.

But this isn’t an album that you’d simply file away as a musical fulfillment of the “it’s about the journey, not the destination” cliche. It’s an open and honest telling of the realities of a life in transit, a life in flux, in constant motion. The countless miles Raines has traveled are a gorgeous, weathered patina on her songwriting as well as the careful, intentional arrangements — and rearrangements — of these songs. That patina — which we temporarily coined “haggardness,” clearly  the word of the day during our conversation earlier this month — is balanced by a hopeful message, youthful joy, and the feeling that, despite that weariness, the album ultimately still looks ahead to what’s next.

There’s a beautiful kind of — and I don’t want this to sound insulting at all — haggardness or road-weariness, this totally relatable human feeling of, “wow we’re still doing this,” in the record. It’s kind of beautiful because it doesn’t feel depressing or downtrodden, it doesn’t drag you down, it feels like a musical sigh of relief. How intentional were you in fostering that feeling — or were you? Do you feel that in the record?

I don’t think it was an intentional “sigh of relief,” but I definitely chose these songs intentionally to say the same thing, hopefully in different ways, which is, “I’m still here. I’ve endured.” And, not just “I’ve Endured” — I chose that song specifically because I’ve always loved the words, I’ve always loved it, and wanted to do some kind of different version of it, but also, I wanted to be able to say, “Here’s a little bit about what’s happened to me through these years.” It’s that feeling like, “It is what it is.” I’m not going to sugarcoat it, it is what it is.

The guests on the album demonstrate, once again, how far your musical travels have taken you. Whether it’s 10 String Symphony or Amy Ray of the Indigo Girls, or your husband, Ben, singing harmony with you. You also collaborate so much across generations. It’s such an important part of bluegrass as a community, but it’s just as important to these sorts of conversations, right? What shaped the process of bringing all these collaborators together on the album?

A lot of it came from different configurations of the band and people I’ve worked with before. A lot of those guys are a generation below me at least. I just wanted them to be part of it. I do enjoy collaborating with people from different generations, I really do. I don’t know that we thought about it like, “Let’s get you paired up with somebody who’s not in your age bracket.” I don’t think we did that in that regard, specifically. I know that I do think about wanting to play music with different people just based on how much I like whatever it is they do.

10 String Symphony was just the obvious choice to do this sort of bowed effect we did on “I’ve Endured.” I get so much out of playing with younger people. It’s a kick in the butt. It makes me want to keep playing. I feed off of that, I feed off of the people I’m around, the band that I tour with, when they have this freshness and this eagerness and joy. I still have joy, but I know that I can’t help but be jaded in certain ways and maybe cynical about certain things that they aren’t. It’s interesting to hear from their perspective and it helps me to maintain what I’m doing every day, because I’m getting this input.

Touring with those younger, joyful people is the perfect balance to that haggardness we were talking about, so the music doesn’t strike listeners as beleaguering or at the end of a long, tiring road. Even at the end of all these journeys, the music still sounds like it’s not retiring, it’s asking, “What’s next?”

That’s how I feel. I’m at the point in my life where I have definitely done a lot of miles and done a lot of things, but I’m in no way finished. It feels exciting to think about what the next thing is. I’m thinking about that and excited by that and ready for it. Yes, being around younger people feeds that, to me. I want to learn from them, I want to know who they’re listening to, I want to be turned onto things that I normally might miss, because I just can’t keep up.

We’re all in our little bubbles. I want to hear what their bubbles are. And on the flipside, I like hearing how young people are viewing how they’re struggling. I don’t mean to say just because they’re young doesn’t mean they don’t have struggles, I like hearing how they deal with their struggles. It helps me keep my shit in perspective. We’re still all fighting and we’re all moving in the same direction and that’s really empowering.

I hear your activism in the album as well; it’s simply you, your ethos, and your worldview coming through the music. You’re not only collaborating with all these women, but your deep pride in Appalachia shines through as well. You don’t fall into the trope of a downtrodden, helpless, bleak Appalachia and South. I wonder if this has been a conscious decision, to opt for this sort of hyper-personal approach to your activism, or is it subconscious, just you being you?

I’m just inspired by the fact that there are so many amazing women, both in my generation and coming up behind us, and the ones who came before, too. I’m inspired by the young women, by the women who are my age and kicking ass, and the women who are older than me who keep kicking ass. I’m also so encouraged and feel positive and excited and happy — I can’t find the right word… content. Not content with the way things are, exactly, but content with the fact that it is changing. I’m content that we are on a path. Things are changing. And that my nieces and grandnieces that I have are not going to be in the same world that I grew up in.

And I think it’s just me being me. I don’t think I’ve ever had anything together enough to make a plan that could’ve been contrived that well. [Laughs]

But see, I think that that’s why your music, and that more subtle activism, is so effective, because it’s not overwrought.

I appreciate that, I had tried to make those kinds of important decisions come from my gut. It sounds cliche, but it’s really true. The times that I haven’t done that, when I’ve done things that I’ve felt were what I should do or what would go over better, I’ve always regretted those decisions. When I’ve leaned back and allowed my gut to take me, it’s always been a better feeling and it’s always worked out better in the long run.

It’s interesting that you bring up the heritage and the Appalachian thing, because a few people have said this to me anecdotally or from fans, they’ll come up to me and say, “I can tell you’re such a proud person from Appalachia from this record.” I can tell you that that is the absolute last thing that I was going for. I feel that I am that [proud] person, it’s not disingenuous, but that wasn’t in my thoughts at all. All I was trying to do was to capture a bit of my story.

With “Allegheny Town” I just went to the feelings I get when I go back home, because I get all these really weird feelings when I go back home. I was trying to capture all of that in all of this — in “Royal Traveller,” in “So Good.” I leaned on a lot of visual images [of home] while I was writing this stuff. It’s fascinating to me that people are getting this from this! I’m thrilled, because when you’re not actively trying to get something across, but it is part of what you feel and part of who you are, it feels good when it’s worked.

You’ve played our Shout & Shine showcase at IBMA twice now. It’s not the first or only movement there’s ever been for inclusion in bluegrass, which is important for the record to reflect, but there is this new movement for diversity and inclusion in bluegrass and I wonder what you think, watching this unfold and being a part of it, after being in this community for your entire life and your entire career?

It fills my heart with joy. It’s like the fulfillment of something. Something that had been so missing is now being filled. It’s not completely full, you know–

But the spigot is on.

The spigot is on and I’m just thankful that I’m still alive and that it happened within my lifetime. I’ll hopefully be around for a lot longer, but to know that it’s happening feels like — you know, I’ve often talked about bluegrass is my family. It’s more than just music, it’s literally the family and community that I have chosen to be in. I don’t know where I leave off and where bluegrass begins, I really don’t. Despite all of my explorations into other kinds of music and my fascination with other kinds of music, I say I am bluegrass. I am of bluegrass.

It’s not where I end, but it does define the core of me. Without the community it’s nothing. It’s like being at a family reunion that lasts all year long. You’re at the family reunion and you’re sitting there, and you’ve just eaten a bunch of things, and you’re sitting with all your favorite people, but then you look over here and you see that two facets of the family that haven’t been speaking are now talking to each other. And you’re just filled with joy cause the family’s coming together more, becoming stronger.

All of a sudden it’s like a Fellini movie, people are hanging off of chandeliers and riding Ferris wheels that weren’t there a second ago, and we’re all just playing together. Because another link just got connected. That’s how I feel. We’re all in this family reunion where in the past, people wouldn’t have been connecting, and now that’s all starting to change. It makes me very, very happy. It’s an inexplicable feeling because it’s so important to me. I’m just happy to be a part of it.

Photo credit: Stacie Huckeba

Martha Scanlan Explores the Depths of ‘The River and the Light’

Posted on by Editor

Growing up, Martha Scanlan says she equated music with “belonging and family and home.” The Montana-based folk singer-songwriter has woven those elements into her fourth album, The River and the Light, but, for Scanlan, home doesn’t exactly signify hearthfire. There’s a wilderness brooding about the album, as she moves throughout the landscapes that shaped her. She’s found her place in the natural world as much as those vistas have found their place in her.

Longtime friend and creative partner Jon Neufeld produced The River and the Light, continuing a collaboration that spans back to her 2011 album, Tongue River Stories. The two blended an array of brooding and beautiful timbres — with fiddle and accordion from Dirk Powell — that speak to those natural landscapes: The expansive skies and pressing quiet of Montana (“Only a River/True Eyed Angel”), the weathered mountainscapes and ancient tones of Appalachia (“West Virginia Rain”), and even, at times, the lush forestry and friendship she’s found in Oregon, where they recorded the LP.

Scanlan herself has described The River and the Light as a journey, which makes sense when you consider that journeys are as much about leaving as they are arriving home. She joined Neufeld on the phone during this interview with the Bluegrass Situation.

Looking back to Tongue River Stories, elements of place and belonging and journeys have always informed your songs. If you look at The River and the Light as a new chapter, what have you learned in that interim?

Martha: There’s this old cowboy saying that just jumped into my mind: “A horse will make a liar out of you.” As soon as you say a horse is one way, like, “This horse never bucks,” it’s going to buck you off. As soon as I say that a song is about something, it’ll end up being about something else. One thing that was interesting in terms of Tongue River Stories, which was such a collaboration with the landscape itself, is we were recording songs outside and the sound between the notes was the actual landscape. This record feels like its own landscape.

You both seem quite interested in atmosphere. I couldn’t get over the timbres on “Too Late.” How did you build those colors into that song?

Jon: Well, I know we got Dirk Powell’s fiddle part. He wasn’t able to make it to the studio, but he sent us a rough mix — he played some fiddle and accordion parts in that. I added some baritone guitar and acoustic guitar. There may have even been omnichord on that one. I ended up sneaking the omnichord on quite a few songs. And then near the end, I was thinking we needed something more, and Martha was back in Montana already, and she sent me… How did you even record that?

Martha: I had this really lame zoom video recorder that I got eight years ago or something, but it has a pretty good microphone. I recorded some brushes, like playing brushes on tambourine, and some harmony parts.

Jon: [Laughs] So she sent that. And I added that to it.

Martha: I think that song is probably the most layered one on the record. Or the most that had an afterwards. What was interesting to me about Jon’s production, I don’t know another musician that’s so in the moment and improvisational when we’re playing live or in the studio or anything. It’s fun because to watch him putting on different layers or overdubbing something because it’s that improvisational. It’s not contrived, it’s not overworked; it tends to feel really alive.

Dick Powell has said about you, “Martha feels the natural world…to such an extent that the stories transcend themselves.” How do you view your relationship with natural space?

Martha: I think there’s an openness, for me, about working and living so close to landscape that’s very much like music. I lived on this small ranch for seven or eight years in southeastern Montana. Doing Tongue River Stories, we recorded most of that outside and we could do that because it’s that quiet — there aren’t cars or planes overhead. To me, writing is more about listening than it is about planning or thinking. I’ve never been good about like, “I’m going to write a song about this.”

It unfolds on its own.

Martha: Yeah and seeing what shows up. As far as a theme in writing and in the music, I think that there was an element of this record that was an exploration of rivers, or different currents that run through and wind together. For both Jon and I, that’s something that occurred early on when we were passing ideas back and forth.

Are you thinking specifically about a certain river or more metaphorically about them?

Martha: Kind of both. I think I’ve always been fascinated with rivers and I’m around rivers a lot.

Jon: Yeah, I remember that back and forth. The theme of rivers was on the last track, “Revival.” I was like, I think it’d be really cool if you were going along a river and this thing pops up. All of a sudden, there’s an acoustic guitar solo for no reason; there’s no acoustic guitar until then. Just the way you go down a river and something appears and is gone. That was a very real theme, like visualizing the river and making a sonic imprint of that.

What keeps this partnership between the two of you so worthwhile in your minds?

Martha: It’s a hard question to answer because it feels really easy and congruent. What would you say, Jon?

Jon: I feel like in the first five seconds you can tell if you’re going to jive with somebody or not; I think it’s especially so with artists and musicians. When we first started playing together, it’s an obvious feeling. It’s obviously not wrong.

Right. You wouldn’t have worked together so many times if it weren’t working.

Martha: Something I really appreciate about working with Jon is there’s this constant sense of improvisation on stage and in the studio. Everything is very alive. We don’t practice a lot. [Laughs] We usually show up on tour and the first time we play together is, like, a radio show or at the sound check. But it keeps things very fresh and alive, I think.

Speaking of being in the moment, I read that “Brother Was Dying” was done in one take.

Jon: That’s probably the truth about most of the album.

Martha: That one, I had just finished putting the words together — I had written most of it, but it was still in this place where I wasn’t sure how it would all stitch together — and we went in and recorded it. I hadn’t sung it as a complete song; that was the first time we’d really played it.

What does your writing process look like nowadays?

Martha: For this record, I had started playing electric guitar; I was pretty psyched about that. It’s a really different animal: It’s a wash of sound, the physicality of it is really different, there’s a lot more fluidity in it. So I think messing around with that influenced some of the writing. It’s still to me such a process of discovery, writing songs. Some things just kind of show up, and then it becomes an inquiry, and sometimes that process continues for years after I write the songs. I feel like I go out and interact with whoever is listening to it and come back changed. I really enjoy that part of it. I think my last record, which Jon also produced, was so much about the current that moves through things, and this record felt even more whittled to the current that’s flowing through.

Photo credit: Yogesh Simpson

Baylen’s Brit Pick: 10 Bands Who Deserve Love in 2018

Posted on by Editor

The UK scene is as varied as it is exciting, even with doing an article each month, I haven’t really scratched the surface. There are so many fantastic UK acts that deserve some love, so with it being the end of the year, and the season of giving, let’s have a quick-fire round of artists that are worth some time in your busy ears. All are worth an entire Brit Pick, but time is short, and you have present to wrap so let’s get to it.

Yola

Yola is someone who is no stranger to BGS but she’s dropped her last name (Carter) and has a new single out, “Ride Out in the Country,” with a long-awaited new album on the way in 2019. She’s one to watch for sure. Country Soul at its finest, like taking off a pair of tight shoes, Yola soothes the soul.

O&O

London duo O&O formed in Liverpool via Israel and Colorado, with harmonies for days.

Treetop Flyers

Treetop Flyers have been rocking the UK scene for a while now but their 2018 self-titled album and appearance at Americanafest in Nashville kicked it all up a notch.

Emily Barker

Emily Barker has a lovely bluesy Memphis sound, she’s from Australia, but we’ve adopted her and she’s adopted us and everyone is happy. She’s a leading light on the UK scene and was named UK Artist of the Year at the UK Americana Awards in February.

The Marriage

A duo from Edinburgh and London, The Marriage are masters of sublime truth telling.

Hannah White

Hannah White has worked hard providing a space for homegrown acts to perform at her Sound Lounge initiative in London and has fought local government and developers every step of the way to do so. She’s a mighty fine artist as well, and one who gives back.

The Luck

The Luck are a brother/sister duo with a touch of the Eagles and Fleetwood Mac about them–what’s not to love?

Noble Jacks

Noble Jacks will get your feet stomping and raise any roof that’s not nailed down properly.

 The Hungry Mothers

Aside from having an amazing name, the Hungry Mothers combine dreamy folk with indie soundscapes.

Lucas & King

Finally, Lucas & King sound like they stepped out of the ‘60s in the best way. I love them.

So there you go, an embarrassment of riches from these isles to get you through the holiday season. If you want even more, dig into my personally-curated playlist and enjoy:

As a radio and TV host, Baylen Leonard has presented country and Americana shows, specials, and commentary for BBC Radio 2, Chris Country Radio, BBC Radio London, BBC Radio 2 Country, BBC Radio 4, BBC Scotland, Monocle 24, and British Airways, as well as promoting artists through his work with the Americana Music Association UK, the Nashville Meets London Festival, and the Long Road (the UK’s newest outdoor country, Americana, and roots festival). Follow him on Twitter: @HeyBaylen

Photo of Yola: Alysse Gafkjen

BGS Top Moments of 2018

Posted on by Editor

Ah, to truly live in the moment. These past twelve months often felt like myriad moments were perpetually fighting for our attention all at the same… moment. So at those junctures that did allow — or perhaps they mandated or beseeched or coaxed or compelled — us to take pause and truly be present, we found some of our favorite musical landmarks of the year, each one unified by their arresting message: Stop. Inhabit this moment. You’ll be glad you did.

Mandy Barnett Refreshes “The Fool”
A versatile vocalist who’s mostly known in classic country circles, Mandy Barnett made her newest album in Muscle Shoals, trading out the Nashville Sound for a slow-burn vibe that works particularly well on “The Fool.” This cool Lee Hazlewood/Naomi Ford tune has been kicking around since the late ‘50s when Sanford Clark gave it a rockabilly whirl. Since then it’s been covered by stylists such as Don Gibson, Robert Gordon with Link Ray, Elvis Presley, and Mac Wiseman – and like these guys, Barnett’s persuasive phrasing gives a sizzling guitar riff a run for its money. — Craig Shelburne

Mary Gauthier Joins Forces Against an Empathy Crisis

After decades upon decades of structural and systemic discrimination against LGBTQ+ service members in the U.S. armed forces, it might surprise one to encounter a queer, progressive singer-songwriter like Mary Gauthier releasing such a project as Rifles & Rosary Beads — an album populated entirely by songs crafted and co-written by military veterans and Gauthier herself. These songs are as harrowing as they are illuminating. And heartbreaking. And devastating. The beautiful, raw humanity exposed herein was captured simply by sitting across from another human being, no matter who they may be, and allowing oneself to see the other, and be seen. “The way I know how to create empathy is through song,” Gauthier describes in our Shout & Shine Q&A from early 2018. “Not preachy songs, not songs that tell people what to think, but songs that tell the story of what people are going through, so that we can see inside and know how they feel.” Clearly, Gauthier’s own life experiences — and the empathy (or, at times, lack thereof) she has experienced throughout — have enabled her to be a voice and a vessel for the tantamount importance of these soldiers, these stories, and these songs. — Justin Hiltner

Dead Horses Give “Turntable” a Surprising Spin
During this year’s AmericanaFest, I opted to go see only the bands I’d never heard of. Fortunately for me, that included Dead Horses, a Wisconsin band that caught me off-guard with their striking vocal blend and deep songwriting. Sarah Vos interprets a tumultuous upbringing in a way that even a stranger can relate to. At her side is upright bass player Daniel Wolff, propelling the set along with a steady beat. One of their standout songs, “Turntable,” already had millions of spins on Spotify, but it still felt like a discovery to me. That night also served as a polite reminder to check out the newcomers, because you never know. — Craig Shelburne

Bobbie Gentry Bridges the Generations
Bobbie Gentry’s entire catalog — eight albums in just four years — was remastered and repackaged in what may be the best reissue of 2018. The Girl from Chickasaw County spans 1967 breakthrough Ode to Billie Joe to her 1971 swan song Patchwork, each album transporting you to the fondly remembered South of Gentry’s childhood. She doesn’t just sing about growing up in rural Mississippi; she makes music that conjures up the people and the place, the humidity and the fried food, the mosquitos and the music. It’s a sprawling that presents her as a true visionary, one who used pop and country music to craft a world of her own even when the real world — and the music industry in particular — didn’t know what to do with her. — Stephen Deusner

Hawktail Goes With the Flow
It was a strong year for instrumental string band music, with projects as daring as The Hit Points (see below), which arranged classic video game music for a bluegrass ensemble, and as intimate as Simon Chrisman and Wes Corbett’s banjo/dulcimer music. But nobody brought more of today’s top talent and compositional intelligence together than Hawktail. Established as a trio with fiddler Brittany Haas, guitarist Jordan Tice, and bassist Paul Kowert, the friends brought in mandolinist Dominick Leslie to round out both the rhythmic structure and the improvisational daring of the band. The all-original album, Unless, is more about a flowing ensemble sound than a jam showcase, but the picking is state of the art. Recorded in the grandeur of Nashville’s historic Downtown Presbyterian Church, the album meditates and celebrates in equal measure. — Craig Havighurst

The Hit Points Get in the Game
The Hit Points, an ensemble of like-minded bluegrass virtuosos and video game music nerds, built themselves an album concept that, despite possibly being the most counter-intuitive vision for a record, ended up not only being aurally, aesthetically, and mentally astounding, it actually just works. Flawlessly. Fiddler Eli Bishop and banjoist Matt Menefee assembled a group of friends that would be up for the sometimes mind-numbing task of translating video game music from across the eras and consoles into bits and pieces and parts playable by a bluegrass band, bringing in bassist Royal Masat, mandolinist Sierra Hull, and engineer/guitarist Jake Stargel, among others, to deliver us a perfect nostalgia mash-up of bluegrass’ fiery, impeccable picking with the most iconic and familiar video game themes of the past couple of decades. Against the odds and intuition, it’s a truly stunning testament to the beautiful nerdy minds of bluegrass pickers and their common belief that there is no such thing as “biting off more than one can chew.” — Justin Hiltner

Kathy Mattea Rediscovers Her Voice
For the last few years, Kathy Mattea felt worried that her singing voice had essentially abandoned her. However, with medical guidance and patience, her warm alto returned. And it’s worth a nod to Pretty Bird producer Tim O’Brien, who knew how to make it shine. The folk-focused album offers beautiful songs like Dougie McLean’s “This Love Will Carry” and Mary Gauthier’s “Mercy Now,” while the Wood Brothers’ “Chocolate on My Tongue” brings a sweet perspective to looking for the meaning of life. Closing out the album, her reverential reading of Hazel & Alice’s “Pretty Bird” illuminates Mattea’s rediscovered voice with quiet power. –Craig Shelburne

Michigan Rattlers Deliver a Strong Debut
After hearing one track by Michigan Rattlers a year ago, I wondered when more music would be coming – because it gave me the same feeling as when I listened to Reckless Kelly and Turnpike Troubadours for the first time. This Midwestern band’s debut album, Evergreen, arrived in September, and proved to be a consistently compelling and well-written project. Guitarist Graham Young has just a hint of sadness in his voice, although Evergreen is by no means a sad record. With Adam Reed on upright bass and Christian Wilder on piano, the music falls somewhere between a bar band and a songwriter night, which is right where I live. Check out “Didn’t You Know” and “Baseball” for starters. — Craig Shelburne

Ricky Skaggs Shows ‘Em How It’s Done
A new member of the Bluegrass, Country, and National Fiddle Halls of Fame this year, Ricky Skaggs has been recovering from shoulder problems, but you wouldn’t know it from this fantastic performance — three songs performed with three bands, including his own Kentucky Thunder. Recapping a rich — and ongoing! — career, the medley featured several generations of musicians, from old band members like Bruce Bouton (pedal steel guitar) to guitar-picking country superstars (Keith Urban, Brad Paisley) to bluegrassers like Sierra Hull and teenaged fiddler Carson Peters. If the best lessons are taught by example rather than lecture, this one was a graduate level course. – Jon Weisberger

Chris Thile Establishes a New Radio Classic
It’s been two and a half years since mandolin virtuoso Chris Thile took the helm of the long-running public radio show A Prairie Home Companion. But it’s been a year since he fully made it his own, rechristening the program as Live From Here. In these twelve months, Thile’s show has become a powerhouse music showcase for acoustic music and far beyond: a place where St Vincent or Vulfpeck can play the same stage as I’m With Her, Brandi Carlile, and Jeff Tweedy. The host himself churns out a brand new song for each episode (an impressive feat in itself), and surrounds himself with a house band and writing staff that’s a who’s who of modern roots: Chris Eldridge, Sarah Jarosz, Joey Ryan, Brittany Haas, amongst others. It’s as if he’s been doing such a show forever, and something we can only hope will continue long into the future. –Amy Reitnouer Jacobs

Colter Wall Captures the Prairie Wilderness
Of course country music isn’t limited to the American South, but it’s been so well established in that specific locale it sometimes feels as if anything else needs an asterisk. Canadian singer-songwriter Colter Wall sets about erasing that mark with his sophomore album, Songs of the Plains. Telling tales about truck drivers, cowboys, and blue collar types at the mercy of automation, Wall uses traditional country influences to sing of his prairie homeland. Working with Nashville’s Dave Cobb, he blends an array of original songs and covers, each of which provides a formidable stage for his voice. Wall’s baritone growl feels like a barroom throwback, the kind of sound you stumble across at dusk when the jukebox finally falls silent and the guy keeping to himself in the corner finally opens his mouth. I put this on when I want to actually feel Canada’s vast prairie wilderness, and think about the ever-widening world of country music. — Amanda Wicks

The War and Treaty Share Their Love Story
In 2010 Tanya Blount and Michael Trotter fell in love after performing, separately, at a Maryland event known as, yes, the Love Festival. In 2018 many fell in love with the Michigan-based duo, now known as the War and Treaty, with the release of their Buddy Miller-produced debut album, The Healing Tide, and even more so from their concerts. Their boundless joy alone is irresistible, but the songs and performances are elevating. “I’m singing with my wife, songs I wrote for us, and we’re on the road helping bridge humanity in our way,” Michael said in an August BGS profile, Tanya adding, “This project is an act of love.” – Steve Hochman

BGS Top Albums of 2018

Posted on by Editor

This year, as we revisit the albums that resonated with each of us, we may not find a tidy, overarching message. However, the diversity herein — of style, content, aesthetic, format, genre, perspective, and background — demonstrates that our strength as a musical community, or zoomed-out even further, simply as humans, indeed comes from our differences. To us, these 10 albums are testaments to the beauty, inspiration, and perseverance we found in 2018.

Rayland Baxter, Wide Awake
His career-launching musical epiphanies happened on a retreat in Israel some years ago, so Rayland Baxter’s decision to isolate himself in a contemplative space to write Wide Awake had precedent. The venue this time was an abandoned rubber band factory in rural Kentucky where a friend was installing a new recording studio. In that quiet, Baxter wrote songs about the noisy world beyond the cornfields, with perspective on its tenderness and absurdity. Later in the studio, his posse set the deft verses to enveloping, neo-psychedelic, Americana rock. Social commentary doesn’t have to plod, as the Beatles proved, and Baxter is farming similar terrain with vibrant melodies, saucy beats and a voice that’s entirely his own. – Craig Havighurst

The Dead Tongues, Unsung Passage
I didn’t expect The Dead Tongues (aka Ryan Gustafson, guitarist for Hiss Golden Messenger and Phil Cook) to be my most-listened-to record of the year. But Unsung Passage is an album I find myself returning to again and again. The ten songs form a sort of travelogue for Gustafson, and you can hear the influences and rhythms of other cultures drifting throughout. It’s the rare record that’s both comforting and complex. –Amy Reitnouer Jacobs

Del McCoury Band, Del McCoury Still Sings Bluegrass
Named after his debut record, which was released fifty years prior, Del McCoury Still Sings Bluegrass seems like a painfully obvious, on the nose title for a record, but upon deeper inspection we realize that, because the album was built on his signature ear for songs and his unfaltering trust in his own taste, it is an immediately digestible statement of McCoury’s worldview. At this point in his long, diverse, uniquely successful career, most listeners would give Del a bluegrass authenticity “hall pass,” letting the more innovative, less bluegrass-normative moments herein by without a blink, but Del, from the outset, avoids letting himself fall into that paradigm. He chooses songs because, well, he likes them, and he doesn’t concern himself with what is or isn’t bluegrass, he just creates music that he enjoys to make with people he enjoys making it with. It’s a simple approach that may border on simplistic, but the result is a resoundingly bluegrass album that doesn’t concern itself with the validity of that genre designation at all. Which, after all, is bluegrass to a T. — Justin Hiltner

Jason Eady, I Travel On

Jason Eady, I Travel On
A fixture on the Texas touring scene, Jason Eady offered his most satisfying album yet with I Travel On. First off, he enlisted Rob Ickes and Trey Hensley for these sessions, giving the project a bluegrass groove with plenty of cool Dobro licks and guitar runs. Second, Eady wrote from the perspective of a man with some miles on him – the album title isn’t a coincidence, after all. His expressive country baritone is made for slice-of-life story songs like “Calaveras County” and “She Had to Run.” At other times, Eady looks inward, drawing on themes like mortality, gratitude and contentment. I Travel On may not be the most obvious album for a road trip but it’s certainly a worthwhile one. – Craig Shelburne

Erin Rae, Putting on Airs
Her velvety, maternal vocals and the subtle, understated alt-folk production vibes of Erin Rae’s Putting on Airs might initially disguise the millennial-reckoning being wrought through these songs and their topics; from top to bottom Rae’s brand, her musical identity, defies comparisons with any one era of music making and songwriting. Her talent oozes through her writing, her melodic hooks, and her musical and rhetorical fascinations, which together in this song sequence feel like they epitomize a microcosm that contains all of our generation’s — and this particular historical moment’s — angst, but without feeling simply capitalistic, opportunistic, or “on trend.” Instead, her viewpoint is decidedly personal, giving us a window into her own individual reckonings — with her own identity, with mental health, with family relationships, with being a young southerner in this modern era; the list is potentially endless, determined only by each listener’s willingness to curl up inside these songs and reckon along with Rae. Which is the recommended Putting on Airs listening strategy espoused by this writer. — Justin Hiltner

High Fidelity, Hills And Home
It’s in the nature of bluegrass to forever be casting backward looks at the giants of the music’s early years; nothing wrong with that, but when those who do it get aggressive about how they’re playing “real” bluegrass, well, that’s another story. High Fidelity’s eyes are firmly fixed on the musical past, but they’re also a modern, mixed-gender band who aren’t afraid to let their music do the talking — and what it says is that there’s a lot more variety, not to mention pure joy, in the under-appreciated gems of old than you might think. – Jon Weisberger

Angelique Kidjo, Remain in Light
It’s not simply a remake of the Talking Heads’ 1980 landmark, but a stunning reimagining by the visionary Benin-born artist Kidjo. She doesn’t merely repatriate (er, rematriate) the African influences that fueled TH’s revolutionary stream-of-consciousness masterpiece — which opened the door for many to discover the wealth of those inspirations — she considers and explores the worlds that have emerged in African music in the time since, all brought together via her singular talents and sensibilities. Remain in Light was arguably the album of the year for ’80, and so it may be again for ’18. – Steve Hochman

John Prine, The Tree of Forgiveness
No album this year brought me as much pure joy as John Prine’s latest. His first collection of new material in over a decade —which is way too long — The Tree of Forgiveness shows him in fine form, tossing out clever phrases and humorous asides that add to, rather than distract from, the low-level sadness thrumming through these songs. From the Buddy Holly bop of “I Have Met My Love Today” to the percolating existentialism of “Lonesome Friends of Science,” from the rapscallion reminiscences of “Egg & Daughter Nite, Lincoln, Nebraska, 1967 (Crazy Bone)” to the almost unbearable heartache of “Summer’s End,” every line and every word sounds purposeful and poignant, culminating with “When I Get to Heaven.” Prine sings about nine-mile-long cigarettes and bars filled with everyone you’ve ever loved, and it’s one of the most inviting visions of the afterlife set to tape. I hope he’ll save me a barstool. – Stephen Deusner

Jeff Tweedy, WARM
The album lives up to its name. Following last year’s quieter Together at Last project, Tweedy now hearkens back to his country punk roots from Uncle Tupelo, and makes a perfect accompaniment to his must-read autobiography, Let’s Go (So We Can Get Back). The new music reminds of his strength as a master songwriter and his place as one of the most tender and raw performers of a generation. It might have almost slid under the radar with its release at the end of November, but it definitely belongs on our year-end list. — Chris Jacobs

Marlon Williams, Make Way for Love
Mere seconds into hearing Marlon Williams croon the opening greeting of his song “Hello Miss Lonesome” in 2016, I knew I’d found a euphoric talent. After poring over his debut Dark Child, my greedy ears immediately wanted more, and this year finally brought that much-awaited second helping. On Make Way for Love, Williams moves away from the rootsy Americana that defined his first album, and leans into darker, baroque explorations that nod to Scott Walker and Roy Orbison in equal measure. Exploring heartbreak — from the puerile but pacing “Party Boy,” to the seething “I Know a Jeweller,” to the pitious “Love is a Terrible Thing”— Williams dips into the jagged crevices that naturally appear when the heart cracks wide open. – Amanda Wicks

 

BGS Top Songs of 2018

Posted on by Editor

Here at the Bluegrass Situation, we’re always eager to hear a new song. This year it’s likely that thousands of them drifted by, each with their own charms. Yet, rather than ranking our favorites, we decided simply to pick 10 tunes that grabbed our attention — listed here in alphabetical order. Take a look.

Rachel Baiman, “Tent City” 
Written with long, tongue-twisting lines and a laconic melody reminiscent of John Hartford’s “Gentle on My Mind,” “Tent City” replaces the former’s voluntary rambler and train yard denizen with a man down on his luck and reflecting on the ease of his descent into homelessness. It’s a strong song, elevated to greatness through spirited, flawlessly idiomatic performances by Baiman and her specially-assembled posse: Justin Hiltner (banjo), Shelby Means (bass), Tristan Scroggins (mandolin) and Molly Tuttle (guitar). “Tent City” isn’t bluegrass-flavored social commentary, it’s a socially conscious and thoroughly bluegrass song. –Jon Weisberger

Birdtalker, “Be Where You Are”
Nashville’s Birdtalker took flight when husband and wife Zack and Dani Green started writing songs more for enjoyment than with career plans. But they’ve got a career now as a breakout band with an intuitive, joyful flavor of folk rock that brings listeners into a comforting fold. “Be Where You Are” is a lushly arranged meditation on staying in the moment, a rebuke to both brooding nostalgia or anxious speculation, not to mention the great screen hole. From getting the reverb just right on the opening guitar figures to the juicy intervals in the vocal harmonies, this is among the most enchanting and centering tracks of the year. –Craig Havighurst

I’m With Her, “Hannah Hunt”
It’s been a big year for I’m With Her, the supergroup comprised of Sara Watkins, Sara Jarosz, and Aoife O’Donovan. Their album was an expert blend of harmonies and modern roots craftsmanship, but it’s this single (recorded at Spotify Studios) that takes their art to a whole other level. Their cover of “Hannah Hunt” will make you forget that the original Vampire Weekend version ever existed. —Amy Reitnouer Jacobs

Loretta Lynn, “I’m Dying for Someone to Live For”
Loretta Lynn and co-writer Shawn Camp go straight to the heartache on “I’m Dying for Someone to Live For,” a highlight of Lynn’s Grammy-nominated album, Wouldn’t It Be Great. By now, the lonesome whippoorwills and the weeping willows in these lyrics are as entrenched in country music history as the Coal Miner’s Daughter herself. Contributing to the pedigree: Lynn recorded the album in Johnny Cash’s former cabin, with John Carter Cash and Loretta’s daughter, Patsy Lynn Russell, handling production. For those days when nothing but a sad country song will do, you can still count on Loretta Lynn. –Craig Shelburne

John Prine, “Summer’s End”
At 72, John Prine is churning out some of the best work of his already genius-level career. Of all the tracks from The Tree of Forgiveness, however, “Summers End” is Pure Prine Perfection. It’ll make you laugh, then cry, then want to listen to it all over again. –Amy Reitnouer Jacobs

Missy Raines, “Swept Away”
Raines and producer/banjoist Alison Brown brought in the strong-women-of-bluegrass cavalry as the backing band for 2018’s International Bluegrass Music Association Song of the Year, showcasing each woman who was first to win in her respective instrumentalist category at IBMA: Becky Buller, Molly Tuttle, Sierra Hull, and Raines and Brown themselves. Still, the song itself supersedes its virtuosic, socially-important trappings. Written and first recorded by bluegrass legend Laurie Lewis, “Swept Away” is a stunning reminder of Lewis’ artistic ingenuity, constantly creating music that all at once sounds unfathomably brand new and comfortingly timeless. Raines tipping her hat to Lewis, in this context, and then to each of her fellow first-women-to-win, is the cherry-on-top of a song that will always be a testament to the amazing women of bluegrass, in whatever form it may take. –Justin Hiltner

Moira Smiley, “Refugee”
Smiley wasn’t merely inspired by news reports to write “Refugee,” a highlight of her sparkling Unzip the Horizon album. The Vermont native drew on her global interactions with people and cultures shaped by migration and refugee experiences — particularly her experiences in refugee camps in Europe as a volunteer with the Expressive Arts Refuge organization. She even enlisted refugee residents of the so-called Calais Jungle and referenced music of medieval expulsions. “So here we are again, in a different, but related era of diaspora,” she told BGS in March. “What can we learn from the past? How can we be compassionate to each other as these big forces are hurting our brothers and sisters?” –Steve Hochman

Stick in the Wheel, “Follow Them True”
This London band may be one of the unruliest acts in the contemporary English folk scene, finding inspiration in centuries-old work songs that speak to present-day issues of class and marrying acoustic instruments with dance production techniques. Perhaps their boldest move yet is the title track to their second album: “Follow Them True” is a new song that sounds old, with a lilting, quietly majestic melody and a set of lyrics that might serve as the band’s mission statement. But it’s less about what Nicola Kearey sings and more about the way she sings it. She filters her voice through an effects pedal that she manipulates in real time, twisting and bending her voice as though the song is echoing across hundreds of years. The effect is both old and new, conjuring the past to point toward the future. –Stephen Deusner

Aaron Lee Tasjan, “If Not Now When”
I saw ALT perform previews of the songs that ultimately came out on Karma For Cheap at Nashville’s Basement East and didn’t realize how much I needed these weird guitar riffs. Led by “If Not Now When,” the recorded version of this album doesn’t disappoint. Tasjan steps away from his more countrified roots and takes it in a more cosmic, gritty direction and the results are glorious. –Chris Jacobs

Anna Vaus, “The Ground”
The first winner of the Miranda Lambert Creative Fund—which the singer-songwriter created to support women in the arts—Anna Vaus promised to be a formidable songwriter. After all, if she garnered Lady Lambert’s approval, she must have a way with words. Vaus’ debut California Kid showcases her exacting lyrical prowess, leaning into honest moments that aren’t exactly pretty, but she saves her best for last. Closing song “The Ground” opens with ponderous guitar while Vaus’ voice stretches her major moment of self-reflection taut. Laden with grace, she lays bare her penchant for messing up a good thing. “Love sure feels like flying on the way down,” she sings, twisting the final moment with a guitar riff that underscores the weight of her realization. “It ain’t the fall that hurts, it’s the ground.” –Amanda Wicks

MIXTAPE: Jonathan Byrd’s Songwriters That Bluegrass Fans Will Love

Posted on by Editor

Bluegrass is known for hair-raising instrumentals, traditional gospel songs, and harmony singing. People who play bluegrass work hard on their performance and often don’t have the time or skill set to write new songs. However, great original material can set an act apart. Fortunately, we are in a golden age of songwriting. Who is today’s John Hartford or Hazel Dickens? Who is writing music that works in a bluegrass setting and speaks to its audience? Allow me to introduce you to a few songwriters I’ve met at festivals and conferences who have great songs that bluegrass bands, and bluegrass fans, will love. — Jonathan Byrd

“When I Find All of You” – J Wagner

Every J Wagner song is a bluegrass jam waiting to happen. “When I Find All of You” is a pure and simple love song — maybe the hardest song of all to write.

“Desdemona” – Raina Rose

A campfire song if there ever was one, Desdemona brings to mind the magical realist storytelling of John Hartford, a frenetic road trip through the landscape of young love.

“Oklahoma” – Mark Erelli

Mark Erelli is a world to be discovered. This lonesome traveling song is a great fit for a voice and a fiddle and a quiet moment in between barn-burners.

“Graveyard Train” – Wild Ponies

Do I have to say anything about a song called “Graveyard Train?” A good bluegrass band would take this over the edge. Wild Ponies have a bunch of great songs that would work well in the bluegrass genre.

“Primer Gray” – Rod Picott

A song about a man’s love for his car. Turn up the tempo on this one and put it on the racetrack. Rod is another country to be explored.

“The Come Heres & The Been Heres” – Chuck Brodsky

Everybody knows this story. It’s funny and tragic and the God’s honest truth. Chuck is one of the best storytellers working today.

“Coming Down” – Anaïs Mitchell

Simple and perfect. A great song to end the night with, at a festival or around a campfire. Anaïs is a deep well of song, almost entirely unknown in the bluegrass world.

“Natural Child” – Greg Humphreys

One-chord wonder with a great bluesy melody. Jam this one into outer space.

“Bound to Love” – Jess Klein

A beautiful sentiment. This would be beautiful in an acoustic setting.

“Wakey Bakey” – Dennis McGregor

It’s hard to believe that John Hartford didn’t already write this.

“Front Porch to the Moon” – Dennis McGregor

Oh man. The only songwriter I’ve mentioned twice, it’s worth digging into Dennis’s catalog. This is a sentiment that will resonate with anyone who has lived in the country.

“Go Without Fear” – Mary Rocap

It’s hard to find a good new gospel song. Mary is a deeply spiritual writer.

Photo credit: Rodney Bursiel

Kaia Kater’s Banjo Carves a Space and Opens Doors on ‘Grenades’

Posted on by Editor

Sometimes self-exploration doesn’t yield the answers we seek. For those patient enough to keep prodding, the real truths emerge in the process, rather than the culmination of examining who we are. Kaia Kater learned as much on her third album, Grenades, which stretches across generations, hemispheres, and textures, and left the singer-songwriter “swimming in her own shadow.”

Born in Canada, Kater grew up hearing about her father’s life in Grenada before he fled at age 14 when the United States invaded the small island country in 1983. As a result, a part of her always existed in a land that lay far away. With the banjo as her guiding force on Grenades, Kater strings a tightrope between her Canadian sense of self and her Grenadian heritage, in order to find a balance between those two poles.

Why did it feel like the right time not only to turn inwards, but to seek a connection back through the generations?

I think it was a multitude of things. I’d been two years out of school, and I found I had more time and space. I’d also had more conversations with my dad, and at a certain point he was like, “You’ve got to go back. You can’t keep putting it off. You’ve got to do it.” I came to agree with him. What started this whole thing is last Christmas I interviewed him in the basement of his house about growing up in Grenada and coming to Canada as a refugee.

And at the age of 14.

I know! It’s kind of crazy. I was 24 at the time I was interviewing him, so just to think about where I was at 14 — it’s kind of terrifying to think about becoming an adult that quickly. It’s kind of unbelievable. But he didn’t really talk about it a lot. I think that’s the thing, people do extraordinary things in order to lead very normal lives.

That’s a beautiful way to put it.

Yes, it’s the story of immigration and the story of refugees. I don’t think my dad ever hid his story, but I don’t think he ever thought it was an extraordinary story. He thought it was his path on the way to doing what he wants to.

It’s fantastic, then, that in addition to fitting your own voice into this musical genealogy you were able to include his voice three times on this album.

Those were from those interviews at Christmas. So much of the music and the emotion was born from that conversation that it felt like an imperative for me to include them. They were not only contextualizing the music, but they were also serving as these light posts for a pretty complicated storyline.

You’ve described Grenades as a lifeline to the South, and yet you grew up in the North. North and South have long existed as such stark dichotomies. Do you think, speaking about your identity, reconciliation is possible, or have you come to accept that there will always be a tension?

I do think it’s like being a hyphenated Canadian. I think there’s a certain cognitive dissonance that happens. This album is really great because it’s given me the space and the time to start to talk to more first and second generation Canadians about “What does being Canadian mean?” In comparison to Grenada, which is 95 percent black, Canada is a multi-ethnic place. It is richer for that. We acknowledge the richness that comes with diversity, but I think it also creates these problems of identity.

I have a friend whose parents are Ghanaian. She’s black and she grew up going to a Ghanaian church in Toronto, and then she went back to Ghana after she got her journalism degree. She was faced with this thing of like, “I have Ghanaian roots, but there’s a part of me that…my accent and the words I use are very Canadian.” I feel a little bit all over the place. Even the nature of exploring all these things is how I feel about it, which is like, I haven’t particularly arrived to a conclusion.

Nor should you. That’s the beauty of any creative form—it allows you to keep exploring. Turning to the album itself, you said you wrote the songs across winter and summer?

I started writing this album really in earnest after I’d had that conversation with my dad at Christmas. Then I went to Grenada in April, and obviously it’s very warm and it’s very beautiful, so it did feel, more than the natural course of the seasons in Canada, like I went suddenly from winter — this gray March — to summer. That’s why I feel it as this change between seasons, but also like we’ve been talking about, it’s a change in hemisphere too.

When it came time to stitch those halves together, what was the process like?

I challenged myself to write all original music on this album. I knew that in order to do that, I would have to push myself and get really analytical with my work. Just changing my environment and going to Grenada was a great help because it brought out different words and melodies and expressions. If all the songs were color-coded in my head, and one is blue for winter and yellow for summer, I can see them that way.

Of the arrangements on the entire album the three that most stand out are “Canyonland,” “The Right One,” and “Poets Be Buried.” Speaking of the latter, the beautiful slow-burn brass is exquisite. How did that unfold?

At this point, I should really credit my wonderful producer, Erin Costello. She is an artist herself; she’s actually releasing a record right around the same time as me. Keyboard is her main instrument, so she works mainly in R&B and soul, but she dabbled a lot in electronic music, and has a Master’s in composition. I feel like her musical tastes are really broad, and she really doesn’t shy away from a challenge, which is why I enjoyed working with her. And it’s also nice to be working with a woman.

I was going to say!

So many of them are men, so it’s nice to have a change of energy. She lives in Halifax. We recorded the album in Toronto, and the next day we flew to Halifax with the hard drive and mixed it there. I’d expressed that “Poets Be Buried” needed something more, and so the brass was actually the last musical piece that we added to the entire album before we mixed it. It was amazing. She had these players come in for an afternoon, and she wrote up the parts in 15 minutes. It sounded beautiful. It’s just French horn and trombone.

If you had to define the banjo’s power as an instrument and storyteller, what would it be?

The banjo has a very ancient quality, and I think especially when it’s played percussively like the clawhammer style, it can bring you into this trancelike, dreamlike state. I’ve found that with traditional music a lot, especially in a jam situation. It’s everybody playing the melody and chording all of the time — it’s not solo-based. When you’re in a jam, you get this trancelike quality where you’re playing this A/B pattern 50 or 60 times. I think the banjo lends itself well to this trance of storytelling. It brings me this inner peace that’s pretty indescribable. I think that’s why I was so attracted to it and why I’ve written on it for so many years.

I read that you play two or three banjos, but your grandpa made one for you?

Yeah, I’m looking at it now on my wall.

If we’re talking about generations, and how your new album encompasses all these different stories, that connection to your grandfather brings it to a whole other visceral level.

I hadn’t thought about that; that is a good point. It’s funny, at the risk of sounding too cheesy, it’s been a guiding light in my life. It’s opened the doors to so many things — not only studying in Appalachia, but also writing things that I may have been too scared to say openly. It’s a really beautiful instrument and a powerful one.

In the liner notes, you remark, “Here’s to swimming in your own shadow.” In dealing with your father’s voice and other generations, how did you create the space for your voice in the midst of intertwining these other narratives?

I think I still am. In the same way when we were talking about northern and southern hemispheres, I think that’s an ever-evolving question for me. For a long time, I’ve had an existential anxiety about having two sides to my family who both have very strong people and very strong narratives, and thinking, “Where do I fit in this picture?” That’s why I create albums, so I can give myself the time and space to explore that.

I’ve put Grenades out, and now I’m going to get to know what it’s about. The “swimming in your own shadow” thing is about getting comfortable essentially with being uncomfortable, and with having a lot of conflicting narratives, and trauma that comes from war or from being biracial, or from being a woman in the world, which people are really starting to talk about. It’s my own way of dealing with that. The album is me carving out that space for myself.

Photo credit: Raez Argulla

LISTEN: Daniel Rodriguez, “Johnny”

Posted on by Editor

Artist: Daniel Rodriguez
Hometown: In His Van, USA
Song: “Johnny”
Release Date: December 14, 2018 (Single); February 15, 2019 (New Album)

In Their Words: “‘Johnny’ was recorded live with everybody in the same room, so we were able to achieve a big room sound. We fell into a fun Latin groove and went with it. The story in the song follows Johnny, who steps outside the box of society, the neighborhood block, the bounds of pavement, electric wires and cell phone towers. It’s a getting lost is being found kind of song. Featuring Tyler Thompson and Jeff Leonard of Fruition, Darren Garvey of Elephant Revival, Sam Trump of Sidewalk Chalk and Lewi Longmire.” — Daniel Rodriguez

Photo credit: Meleah Shavon Photography