Guitarist Jackie Venson on Her Instrumental Peer, Yasmin Williams

(Editor’s Note: For a special Artist of the Month feature and op-ed, acclaimed guitarist, composer, and improviser Jackie Venson considers the impact, musicality, and originality of her peer Yasmin Williams. Read more about Venson on BGS here. Explore more AOTM content on Williams here.)

As someone who gets pigeonholed as a blues guitarist, I’ve publicly reckoned with what I feel is an othering of blues as no longer really art, but instead what might be seen as a wax museum-ification of a formerly revolutionary genre. Too many established musicians and fans alike don’t want blues to evolve, but to instead be preserved in amber. Yet, its sibling folk music has not only never entirely fallen out of fashion, it has evolved and even prospered specifically because its brightest figures have refused to let tradition and academic codification stagnate the genre. Whether you’re talking about Bob Dylan going electric or Bon Iver collaborating with hip-hop superstars, folk musicians understand that cross pollination and new ideas are vital to growth. To my ears, Yasmin Williams is a proud continuation of that tradition of evolving folk.

To listen to the music of Yasmin Williams is to listen to the thrill of musical mutation in action, to hear and feel playing that is in constant communication, not only with itself, but with myriad styles and personalities. Given how adventurous and playful Williams’ music is, it’s not too surprising that her gateway to music was in fact a video game, specifically Guitar Hero 2.

In a review of Williams’ breakout 2021 album Urban Driftwood for taste-making music site Pitchfork, writer Sam Sodomsky connected Williams’ percussive, tap-heavy fingerpicking style to the mechanics of that game, as well as folk guitar legend John Fahey. Rhythmic intensity and love for the thrill of performance are the unifying elements of Williams’ otherwise impossible-to-pin-down style; this isn’t folk as a study or stuffy examination of tradition, it’s folk as expression at its most pure, music for entertainment, communication, and friendly competition all at once.

Williams’ latest batch of singles from her just-released album, Acadia, impeccably illustrates this eclectic and freewheeling approach to folk. “Hummingbird” is a dazzling collaboration with banjo player Allison de Groot and fiddle phenom Tatiana Hargreaves that recalls Richard Thompson’s lush, melodic picking but marries it to the breakneck intensity of traditional bluegrass.

On the other end of the folk spectrum, “Virga” finds Williams teaming up with Darlingside for a gorgeous and stately slice of indie folk that would fit right in with the likes of Sufjan Stevens and Bibio. Somewhere in the middle is “Dawning,” a bluesy folk number that features Williams dueting on guitar with Aoife O’Donovan of Crooked Still fame, who also provides enchanting, wordless vocals that give the song an almost ambient quality, as if Sigur Rós moved to Appalachia.

Even on songs that are more traditional, Williams playfully inserts pop and experimental elements. Take “Sunshowers,” which opens Urban Driftwood with beautiful fingerpicking that in turn gives way to a simple yet addictive bass-like hook that wouldn’t be out of place on a Post Malone single. Or, consider the album’s title track, which features djembe playing by Amadou Kouaye and adds an almost IDM (Intelligent Dance Music) quality to the song. Or, “Nova to Ba,” a collaboration with Argentine musician Dobrotto that effortlessly transitions from cinematic grandeur to relaxing ambient textures.

As a musician, I can’t help but be entranced by the marvelous skill and tone on display in Williams’ music. But more importantly, as a listener, I’m struck by the immediacy and tunefulness of the songs. Like Williams’ early inspiration, Guitar Hero 2, these songs are hard to put down once you start, and the difficulty never gets in the way of the fun.

“Juvenescence,” one of Williams’ most popular songs, is a handy representation of her skills – the impeccable picking, the daredevil runs that would impress even Eddie van Halen, the self-dueting in the finale. But it’s also immensely listenable and never a chore. Equally impressive is “Swift Breeze,” where Williams utilizes her guitar as an organic drum machine, getting a booming kick drum sound out of the body and rim shot-like hits out of other components, all while arpeggiating like she just got off a tour as the lead guitarist for a Midwest emo outfit.

It might seem odd to bring up emo in a feature on a folk musician, but there is a considerable amount of drama and theatricality in Williams’ music, even though most of it is instrumental. “Adrift,” in particular, has just as many emotional pivots and anthemic hooks as a Panic! At The Disco song. Here, the guitar comes in first, then the strings, but the swaggering hooks and melancholic valleys are there. It’s not hard to reimagine “Restless Heart,” from Williams’ debut album, Unwind, as an emo anthem either; it has a killer riff to kick things off followed by a pick slide and some heavy ringing chords. Even the title sounds like something the Get Up Kids would have used. If Dashboard Confessional was ever looking for their own Tim Reynolds to do an acoustic tour with, all I’m saying is Williams’ name should be high up on the list.

Every genre should be so fortunate as to have an artist like Williams, a performer who challenges herself without losing sight of what makes music a pleasure to listen to. A musician who commits to pushing the boundaries of the genre they call home, rather than maintaining a status quo. No genre should be inflexible and we need more musicians like Williams – period – who push themselves musically just as much as they do technically.

(Editor’s Note: Continue your Yasmin Williams Artist of the Month exploration here.)


Photo Credit: Ebru Yildiz

BGS 5+5: Lily Kershaw

Artist: Lily Kershaw
Hometown: Los Angeles, California
Latest Album: Pain & More
Personal Nicknames (or rejected band names): My family calls me Lou or Lulu

What was the first moment that you knew you wanted to be a musician?

Hearing Simon & Garfunkel’s “The Sound of Silence” for the first time. I was 8, in the back seat of my parents car, and the world just stopped. I wanted to write like them.

What’s the toughest time you ever had writing a song?

The toughest time I’ve ever had writing a song was on a song of mine called “Depreshmode.” I initially wrote it in less than 30 minutes, but it ended up taking me 18 hours (I tallied!) to get it into its final shape. About halfway through those 18 hours I thought something inside me had broken. I was like, “Am I ever going to write again?” I did, of course, write again and I am super happy with and proud of the final shape of “Depreshmode.”

What has been the best advice you’ve received in your career so far?

Just finish the song. You can always go back and edit. You can go back and edit for 18 hours if you want, but you can’t edit something that doesn’t exist. So just finish it.

Does pineapple really belong on pizza?

Yes, but not with ham. If you’re going to add pineapple to pizza, let it be the only topping. Now I want pizza!

What is a genre, album, artist, musician, or song that you adore that would surprise people?

I really love the song “Mary On A Cross” by Ghost. It was my most-played song a couple years ago. I was also surprised to find this out! I kind of think of it as rock opera, but the internet has called their music things like black metal and doom metal. I think most people, myself included, would be surprised to know how much I love it!


Photo Credit: Cort Wilson

You Gotta Hear This: New Music From Mon Rovîa, Loose Cattle, and More

We’ve reached the end of the week and we’ve got your new music covered this Friday! Our premiere round-up is completely full with excellent new songs and videos from a variety of artists who work in a variety of roots styles.

Check out new music videos from folks like singer-songwriter Sadie Campbell performing “Getting Older,” a subtly spooky tune from High Horse entitled “Tombstone Territory,” country outfit Loose Cattle bring us “The Shoals,” on which they are joined by none other than Patterson Hood, and “Afro-Appalachian” artist Mon Rovîa’s lyric video for “Winter Wash 24” is colorful and engaging.

You’ll also find brand new music from folks like JD Clayton, who sings about being disappointed by a friend on “Let You Down,” Benny Sidelinger processes a difficult season of life on “Lilacs,” and roots rockers Clarence Tilton call on their pal Marty Stuart for their latest, “Fred’s Colt.”

To cap it all, we debuted our new video series, the AEA Sessions, with our partners at AEA Ribbon Mics earlier this week with an incredible performance by our longtime friend, Gaby Moreno. You can watch that debut session below, as well.

It’s all right here on BGS and, you know the routine – You Gotta Hear This!

Sadie Campbell, “Getting Older”

Artist: Sadie Campbell
Hometown: British Columbia-raised, Nashville-based
Song: “Getting Older”
Album: Metamorphosis
Release Date: October 11, 2024 (single); October 25, 2024 (album)
Label: Glory War Records

In Their Words: “In a sea of filters, fillers, and constant pressure to look young, ‘Getting Older’ is my reminder to embrace myself where I am, as I am, to be proud of every wrinkle on my face, that my body was well-earned through laughter and learning, and not everyone gets the privilege to grow older. This video is meant to symbolize the many different versions we can be throughout our lives — and that it’s really about perspective. The photo can be the same, but through a different lens, you see a different image. Just like how we see ourselves. If we can change the lens, and the way we perceive ourselves, the picture we see often changes, too.” – Sadie Campbell

Video Credits: Filmed and edited by Justin Alexis at That Good Graphic.


JD Clayton, “Let You Down”

Artist: JD Clayton
Hometown: Fort Smith, Arkansas
Song: “Let You Down”
Release Date: October 11, 2024
Label: Rounder Records

In Their Words: “‘Let You Down’ was born in a coffee shop in East Nashville called Cafe Roze. I sat next to a new friend who would later become my bass player. We had an itch to hit the town and get dinner at an unfamiliar restaurant, but to our surprise every establishment the waitress recommended was closed that day. After about the fourth restaurant it became a humorous bit. It immediately began pouring rain outside. Although the waitress meant nothing by it, I teased that she was letting us down. On my drive home that day I sang ‘sometimes people let you down’ in my voice memo. It immediately hit me and I was flooded with feelings of an old friend that had actually let me down and meant it. I then had my sweet little song. But it needed more. It wasn’t until the day of recording that I dreamed up a huge instrumental break to highlight all of my band members and bring their skills to life. On a Thursday at Sound Emporium studio on Belmont Boulevard, my band cut ‘Let You Down’ and it became in my own humble opinion a certified banger. I’m certainly biased, but I truly love the song and its flow of story to emotionally charged musical outrage.” – JD Clayton

Track Credits: 
Written by JD Clayton.
JD Clayton – Vocals, acoustic guitar, background vocals, harmonica
Bo Aleman – Electric guitar
Lee Williams – Bass guitar
Kirby Bland – Drums, percussion
Hank Long – Piano, Wurlitzer, organ


High Horse, “Tombstone Territory”

Artist: High Horse
Hometown: Boston, Massachusetts
Song: “Tombstone Territory”

In Their Words: “After coming off tour with the Jacob Jolliff Band, I had all this inspiration that I wanted to bring to a High Horse instrumental composition. The basic elements of ‘Tombstone’ come from some of the ideas in Jolliff’s music and influence from Grant Gordy/Mr. Sun recordings. And, from a practice of sending around a melodic part that I learned in an earlier Persian Music Ensemble at NEC to the band. Not only was this an academic sort of exploration for me, but it was also a great opportunity to show off some of the special skills everyone in the band has as instrumentalists. Some of my favorite solos on the record happen on this recording and it has some of our best band cohesion! After performing the piece for one of its first times in Hancock, New Hampshire we were still looking for a title when we happened upon a short dirt road named Tombstone Territory. Given the spooky vibe of the tune, that seemed to fit just perfectly!” – G Rockwell, composer, guitarist

Track Credits:
G Rockwell – Guitar
Carson McHaney – Fiddle
Karl Henry – Cello
Noah Harrington – Bass

Video Credits: Video, editing, recording, and mixing by Micah Nicol


Loose Cattle, “The Shoals” featuring Patterson Hood

Artist: Loose Cattle
Hometown: New Orleans, Louisiana
Song: “The Shoals”
Album: Someone’s Monster
Release Date: October 8, 2024 (single); November 1, 2024 (album)
Label: Single Lock Records

In Their Words:“‘The Shoals’ gives me faith good men are actually listening, since Michael pulled the lyrics from several years of my private ‘Mad As Hell/Not Gonna Take It Anymore’ rants. It’s a song about what happens when we stop twisting into pretzels trying to please everyone else and start speaking uncomfortable truths to power. Historically, there’s a long tradition of accusing women who speak uncomfortable truths aloud of possession or witchcraft, so it felt especially fitting to cast Patterson Hood as a river ‘demon’ egging on the narrator.” – Kimberly Kaye

“I started writing the song during my first stay in the Shoals some years ago, on a banged up old guitar I’d just bought there. Better writers than me have tried and failed to explain the mysterious way that stretch of the Tennessee River has sung so much unforgettable music into being. All I can say is the song kind of wrote itself there and I just tried to copy it down. And ever since, from having an original Swamper’s son tell me “hell yeah” that he wanted to sing the part of a River Demon for us, to finding the record the perfect home at Single Lock Records, has just seemed meant to be. After a hell of a lot of work, of course.” – Michael Cerveris

Track Credits:
Music and lyrics by Michael Cerveris.
Kimberly Kaye – Vocals
Michael Cerveris – Acoustic and electric guitars, harmonies
René Coman – Bass
Doug Garrison – Drums
Rurik Nunan – Fiddle, harmonies
Jay Gonzalez – Farfisa organ
Patterson Hood – Vocals, guitar


Mon Rovîa, “Winter Wash 24”

Artist: Mon Rovîa
Hometown: Liberia-born, Tennessee-based
Song: “Winter Wash 24”
Album: Act 4: Atonement
Release Date: October 11, 2024 (single); January 10, 2025 (EP)
Label: Nettwerk Music Group

In Their Words: “I wrote ‘Winter Wash 24’ while touring with Josiah and the Bonnevilles in March ’24. The theme of cognitive dissonance weighed heavily on my mind amidst everything happening in the world. Outside Seattle, I saw tanks covered in tarps treated with winter wash and the image moved me to write. The song explores how we often distance ourselves from the struggles of others when they don’t directly affect us. My goal is to raise awareness of these shared struggles, because empathy is a crucial force for change. As a refugee, I’m deeply inspired by the work of the IRC (International Rescue Committee) and am donating the song’s proceeds to support their vital efforts.” – Mon Rovîa


Benny Sidelinger, “Lilacs”

Artist: Benny Sidelinger
Hometown: Wayne, Maine (famous for a bumper sticker that says “Where the hell is Wayne, ME?”)
Song: “Lilacs”
Album: Cherry Street
Release Date: October 25, 2024

In Their Words: “I wrote ‘Lilacs’ during a particularly difficult period of my life. However, there were many joyous things happening at the time too. My then-fiancée was pregnant with our lovely daughter Tulsi and we were living in a gorgeous historical farmhouse on the Skagit River, yet I was dealing with the aftermath of a difficult divorce and was temporarily isolated from my two older kids. The juxtaposition of tragedy and joy during that time are the basis of the song. For a while, I thought I might lose my mind, but somehow I managed to hold on to a thread of sanity. Eventually I was reunited with my kids and moved on to much easier chapters of life. At the same time, we had a spring with an incredible amount of rain and there was concern that the river might overflow the dikes, which would have flooded our house. Yet, just as I managed to not go crazy, the dikes held and a catastrophic flood was avoided. So, as they say: ‘I wrote a song about it.'” – Benny Sidelinger

Track Credits:
Benny Sidelinger – Vocals, guitar, Dobro
Michael Thomas Connolly – Bass, telecaster, vocals
Aida Miller – Vocals
Jason Haugland – Drums


Clarence Tilton, “Fred’s Colt” featuring Marty Stuart

Artist: Clarence Tilton
Hometown: Omaha, Nebraska
Song: “Fred’s Colt” featuring Marty Stuart
Album: Queen of the Brawl
Release Date: October 11, 2024 (single)

In Their Words: “We asked Marty to get involved with ‘Fred’s Colt’ as we had met and opened for him a couple times in our hometown, [Omaha]. Marty agreed and played his famous pull-string telecaster, the original guitar of Clarence White of the Byrds. It’s a guitar we were well acquainted with, as we are huge Clarence White fans. Marty’s voice seemed perfect for the second verse of this song, which recounts the potentially sordid history of a strange family heirloom – an old Civil War-era Colt pistol. Marty not only lent us his voice for a verse and his guitar wizardry for a solo, but even added parts throughout that we did not realize were missing. Marty Stuart is a national treasure, and we are so honored and excited that he spent a day with our tune and did what only he can do!”

Track Credits:
Words and music by Chris Weber.
Chris Weber – Rhythm electric guitar, acoustic guitar intro, vocals
Marty Stuart – Electric guitar (Telecaster), first solo, second verse vocals
Corey Weber – Electric guitar throughout, second solo
Paul Novak – Acoustic guitar
Craig Meier – Bass
Jarron Storm – Drums, percussion, vocals


AEA Sessions: Gaby Moreno, Live at AmericanaFest 2024

Artist: Gaby Moreno
Hometown: Los Angeles, California
Songs: “New Dawn,” “Solid Ground,” and “Luna de Xelajú”

In Their Words: “It was a wonderful experience performing a few songs for AEA at Bell Tone during AmericanaFest. The sound quality and the energy in the room were unforgettable.” – Gaby Moreno

“Gaby is charismatic and energetic. She lights up a room when she walks in and when she performs, it’s electrifying.”
Julie Tan, AEA Ribbon Mics

Read more here.


Photo Credit: Mon Rovîa by Glenn Ross; Loose Cattle by Joseph Vidrine.

Basic Folk: Blind Pilot

Oregon-bred indie folk music outfit Blind Pilot go on a deep spiritual journey on their new album, In the Shadow of the Holy Mountain, produced by Josh Kaufman. The music inspiration for frontman Israel Nebeker lay in his songwriting process. This is the first Blind Pilot album in eight years, because after struggling with writing for years, Nebeker set aside the songs he had been working on. (Which will be included on a new solo record in 2025.) He gave himself a month to write an album’s worth of songs to present to the band. He demo-ed the songs and headed out for a trip centered around spiritual growth in Norway.

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Searching for ancestral connections and tracing his own roots, Nebeker sought out the Sámi – a semi-nomadic Scandinavian people – their culture and community. He participated in a Sámi shamanic journey exploring indigenous spirituality. A shaman took him on a drum journey and invited him to listen for ancestors and visions. His vision included his ancestors beckoning him to a path that led straight to a mountain, which was clearly his family legacy and origin. Back in the studio with the band, he re-listened to his songs and was very surprised to realize that the album was about his ancestors. The connection that the rest of the band felt in delivering the music is palpable. The special emotional dynamic that always exists with Blind Pilot is supercharged on In the Shadow of the Holy Mountain.


Photo Credit: Shervin Lainez

The Stories and the Storyteller Behind ‘Stelth Ulvang and the Tigernips’

Stelth Ulvang is a storyteller, but as he shares in our conversation, if it hadn’t been for a broken mast on a famous sailboat years ago, his stories might have found a different outlet than music.

Since then, his musical life has unfolded from one wave to the next. From playing with established bands like The Lumineers or his own projects like Heavy Gus to finding pick-up bands in different towns, he is fast and prolific. His latest effort, Stelth Ulvang and the Tigernips, is a ten-song opus, cut in New Orleans by The Deslondes (a band he indeed met through a friend). A self-declared autumnal record, Ulvang grapples with death with a lilting cover of Echo & the Bunnymen’s “Killing Moon” and guides the listener along his travels in “What Three Dogs.” The (mostly) live recordings lend themselves to the raw emotion of the storytelling.

BGS spoke to Stelth Ulvang over Zoom from his home in Bishop, California.

How’s your life?

Stelth Ulvang: Well, we just got back from a family vacation, and our 3-year-old hates us for trying to explain jet lag to him.

It sounds like you were on a real adventure. Where all did you go?

Greece, Turkey, and the Republic of Georgia. We have a friend there that is a wild, wild, Wild West woman.

She won this great horse race, and she’s really into cooking over big fires. She won the Iron Chef competition there. She’s a pretty versatile human, but pretty wild. So it was fun to have a friend in these places. We had friends in Greece and we had friends in Turkey. But we didn’t have instruments. My wife and I play a lot of music together, so we’ve always traveled with instruments, and this time we refused to.

I’ve just been recording all last year. I’m sitting on three records of recordings and trying to just put out one of them right now.

Nice. That’s awesome. Do you write alone, or do you and your wife write together sometimes?

I normally write alone. I have a hard time writing with others. I just haven’t had enough practice with it. With our other project, Heavy Gus, we will bring songs to the table and then we’ll intermingle and edit them together. But for the most part, it always comes from one voice or another. We haven’t sat down and said, ”Let’s write a song.” I find it harder. It’s more vulnerable than the other parts of a relationship, I find. After like sexual or intimate vulnerabilities, I found writing music together was like by far the last tier.

Well, not to make it about me. But I write music with my husband. Co-writing and the kitchen are the only places we fight.

Oh, yeah, totally. It can get really impassioned. You are just opening yourself up on the table in this way, and it can just go so quickly to feeling under attack about this very personal thing.

You’re very prolific. Sounds like you got a lot of stuff in the pipeline to release.

When The Lumineers stopped touring, I kind of just rallied and tried to get everything done. I did a lot of the writing on the road with the band. There was a lot of downtime in hotels. For a long time, I was recording in hotel rooms with my phone on voice memos and stuff like that. But then I got into using Garageband on my cell phone and making more produced tracks. I released a record like that.

Ultimately, I found that my favorite thing to do was to find a band. If we have a few days off in a town, I find a band and go into a studio somewhere and see if we can just record five tracks. So that’s what I kept doing around the States during this Lumineers tour for the past three years. I had written all these songs over COVID. So we’d be in Cincinnati for three days and I’d find a band and record five songs.

When you say “find a band,” what do you mean?

I mean whip a band up. Ideally, find a band that plays together and they’re down to just like learn a song of mine.

Are you meeting them at a show or are these people that you’re like friends of friends with online?

Yeah, sometimes friends of friends, people that I’ve never played with. But for this record, Stelth Ulvang and the Tigernips, this is all people that I had never met. A friend who was going to be on the record but then left for a tour was like, “Well, they’re good people, you’re in good hands.”

It was fun to just use real old gear, old vintage mics and run it all through tape. We recorded everything live. Singing it live, that’s something I’m not as used to. But with this band from New Orleans, the magic was quick to come.

Did you know you wanted to cut it to tape before you headed down there? Or was that circumstantial?

That was circumstantial. It’s funny with tape right now, because obviously, everything just gets digitized. I was trying to think, “Is there a way that we can keep this off of ever touching digital?” And it’s almost impossible. You know it’s possible, but it feels impossible.

With the record I made on my cell phone, I only released it on cassette tape for a while, which was the reverse. So I should have tried to be true to form and release it just on vinyl and tape in analog form. But it’s 2024.

Well, tell me about self-releasing music. What does that feel like in 2024?

It’s like I finally figured out the releasing stuff. I’ve had help through Emily Smith, with the Alt-Country Show. There was a lot of logistical stuff that I was getting new anxieties about – a lot of social media.

You think you have it all figured out and then it’s just all about being a content creator. I feel like an old man. It’s so complex, but it’s true. I finally kind of figured out how to self-release and self-book shows and now that almost feels like an obsolete skill set. I’m doing a whole tour around the Northeast on this record for a few weeks and booked everything myself. Amazing that it like came naturally, just writing people and asking for help. But yeah, the content is a skill set that I forgot to put my 10,000 hours in on.

I feel that. For the tour, is the band that played with you on this album from New Orleans going?

No, they’re all gonna be in Spain at a sick residency that they do every year. The band goes to Spain once a year. They’ve done it for 3 years. Now this will be, I think, their fourth year. And there’s a huge following in Seville of American country and folk.

It’s interesting that country music is getting big. But in Europe right now, it’s getting huge and friends who do country tours in the States are having much more success in Europe right now.

It also feels like the genre is broadening. There’s obviously the stuff at the top of the pyramid that, depending on your ears, can be exhausting. But there’s more room for more kinds of country.

In that realm, I don’t know that I like the song for what it is, but “Old Town Road” by Lil Nas X – to have a gay Black man put out a track at the top of the country charts, I think opened up the the floodgates to be like, “Anything goes.” I think that is an extraordinary gift to any realm of music, to do something so left field and find success for it. So bless Lil Nas X for that and maybe only that.

What’s a Tigernip?

What is a tigernip? I don’t know. I forgot. … I was just trying to think of something that wasn’t a Google trope. But I wanted the combination of very quick, ferocious, and sweet. We recorded half of the album in the space called the Tigerman Den so I was starting to call it “the Tiger Men.” But there were women in the project. I think I said “Tiger Dicks” at some point, and everyone was like, “What the hell is wrong with you?”

But then, something about a tigernip kind of sounded like a tiger lily or catnip.

I wanted it to be clear that the band that recorded on this record was actually a band and it wasn’t me just doing like solo songs. And how much the album was influenced by these relationships that we had over a very short few days. So, that’s why I was really set on trying to find a band name for us.

There’s a frequent revisiting in the songs on this album to the theme of water. And I read that at one point you sailed from Hawaii to Seattle. Since you have this connection to water, I’d like to know about that sail and if you have an everyday connection to water?

It’s funny, I don’t necessarily buy into astrology, but being an Aquarius, I am appalled that it’s not a water sign. I feel completely more watery than airy. [My birthday is] the very last day of Aquarius before Pisces, which is a water sign. So maybe that’s why I’m compelled to lean into the water sign. And my Chinese zodiac is the tiger.

Back to the sailing trip! I did not want to play music before this time in 2008. I met this musician who invited me on this sailing trip and I just wanted to go on an adventure.

Meaning you didn’t want to play music in your life, or you needed a break from it?

I was playing in high school and I tried to go to college for it. I didn’t like it and I dropped out. I just wanted to travel. I had gone on a bike trip, I was hitchhiking a lot, and I was riding trains everywhere. If music could help me travel, I was open to it.

I traveled to Hawaii to pick up this boat that was famous in National Geographic because of this teenager, Robin Lee Graham, trying to sail it around the world in one go. He left his boat in California and it got moved to Hawaii. I had somehow signed up with a buddy that I barely knew to travel with this boat from Hawaii up to Bellingham, Washington, where it was going to sit in a boat museum for its historical significance.

At the time, this was the youngest boy ever to sail around the world alone. The record has since been broken by a young woman. [The boat] had so much repair work that had to be done on it. So we’re in Hawaii for like five weeks, during which I got arrested for shoplifting some food at Sam’s Club, because we’d run out of all of our money that we had saved up to do this journey. I decided, “Screw it. We’re we’re just gonna skip the court date, I’m gonna get on this boat and we’re gonna sail.” So we bail on this court date, establishing a nice bench warrant that I had to deal with much later on. We make it a week out and the mast busts, and we had to get rescued. And I have never sailed extensively since then.

While we’re at sea my buddy had this mandolin. We sit there, and we’re just trading verses back and forth, writing this kind of silly song as this joke idea that we’re these stranded pirates. We’re just coming up with lyrics. We get towed back to Hawaii; I was really nervous about going to jail. We go to the airport and beg these flight attendants to basically put us on standby to get us back to the States. The only flight that they could put us on was one that went up to Seattle. We’re like, well, “We can hitchhike home from there.”

So, we go up to Seattle and we have no money, not even bus fare, to get to my friend’s house that lived in North Seattle. So we sit in the airport and we play this song, making up words on this mandolin with a little hat out [for tips], just for bus fare. As soon as we get the bus fare, we leave and we’re at our friend’s house. We tell him the story and he’s like, “You know, we’re having a show tomorrow night. You guys should play your song at this show that we’re having in our basement.”

That was the first show essentially that I ever played. By the end of the trip, we traveled for another couple of weeks back to Colorado, we’d written an entire album’s worth of stuff. As soon as we got back to Colorado we already had a band name. We had all the songs ready to record and all of a sudden I was a musician again.

Wow! All because of a broken mast. That’s wild.

SU: The boat was called the Dove. And the book that was about the boat is called Dove. So we called our band Dovekins. Never looked back.


Photo Credit: Rachel Deeb

‘Acadia’ Expands Guitarist Yasmin Williams’ Creative Universe

Oscar Wilde said, “If a thing is worth doing, it is worth doing well. If it is worth having, it is worth waiting for. If it is worth attaining, it is worth fighting for. If it is worth experiencing, it is worth putting aside time for.”

Composer and guitarist Yasmin Williams can certainly relate to the sentiments in Wilde’s reflection. Williams – who went from New York University in 2017 to releasing her first LP in 2018 to performing across the world – says when she picked up the acoustic guitar, it was about “trying to become the best guitarist [she] could be.”

Though a straightforward aspiration, and one that Williams has pursued fervently between the release of her debut album and now of her third record, Acadia, Williams has lived through ups, downs, and unknowns of the music industry, which have shifted her goals along the way. Particularly between 2020 and 2024, when Williams wrote the songs that would become Acadia, the inherent nature of public visibility and the process of establishing herself in the music landscape led Williams to discern what exactly is worth doing, having, waiting for, attaining, fighting for, and experiencing as a musician. It’s this amalgamation of inner realizations and external escapades that make Acadia the compelling journey it is.

Listening to each piece is like exploring a miniature world. Songs like album opener “Cliffwalk” unlock the door to an event memorable to Williams and all the emotions that came with it – performing at Newport Folk Festival and writing most of the song the night before, with the rest unfolding as an improvisation on stage. Pieces like “Virga” and “Dream Lake” reflect the duality of positive and negative challenges that come with nurturing a career as a musician. The two tracks are fittingly written with this direct connection to the other in mind.

Acadia as a whole is brimming with collaboration, a potpourri of artists, instruments, and culture, songs like “Harvest,” “Hummingbird,” and “Dawning” speak directly to what can grow from embracing new friendships, communities, and the unique creative resonance that can be found therein.

Acadia may encompass a fixed window of time in her life, but much like the many meanings of its title and Williams’ own ethos for the album – a place of peace, a place where creativity can blossom – the project endures as an oasis, a reminder from the past thriving in the present that scatters new seeds for music in the future, as Williams continues to walk down a trail of her own design.

Speaking with BGS by phone before a tour that will take her across the U.S. and to the UK later this year, Williams talked about the value of empowerment and patience, the expectations of the music industry, insights that came from producing her own music, and more.

What was the evolution of your vision for Acadia like and how did things develop as you met new artists and had so many new experiences from 2020 to 2024?

Yasmin Williams: I wasn’t really envisioning the album being as expansive as it is. Back in 2020 and even before that, I was still focused on just trying to become the best guitarist I can be, trying to become more confident in my playing and more confident in my abilities.

When I played Newport Folk Festival [in 2021], it gave me the confidence and the encouragement that I needed to realize that I can actually do this for a living – be a professional musician. It definitely lit a spark and after that, I realized I should take meeting people more seriously. Not necessarily networking, but just trying to make friends with musicians that I’m meeting at these festivals since I keep seeing the same people. That’s kind of how the collaborations came about: Just me being not afraid to tell people, “Hey, I really like your music. I’d love to do something with you,” or people telling me that and me not being afraid to follow up with them because, I guess I dealt with some sort of– I don’t want to say, “inferiority complex,” but like, I feel like the musicians that are on the record have been doing their thing for long time. I’d be afraid to reach out to people and ask them to collaborate with me.

After 2021, I got over that fear, which helped immensely. That led to the collaborations and that led to me thinking, “My next record can be what I want it to be but, I can also invite people to do things that I cannot do.” Like, I don’t play saxophone, I don’t play drums. I’m not super comfortable singing on my music yet and inviting all of these people to do those things really created the atmosphere and the universe that I wanted for Acadia. I wanted it to be something that my other two records aren’t necessarily, which is a more expansive kind of universe.

How did you approach conveying themes, motifs, or emotions when writing music to include others versus writing for yourself?

Every song was different. As far as [asking myself], “How does this person fit into the theme or the emotion that I’m trying to present?” What I did was, I told the collaborator, “Here’s what emotion or mood I’m trying to evoke here. Does this make sense to you? Do you think you can do this? Let’s figure out a way to do it.” I gave them slightly free reign, but help if they needed help figuring something out.

Where does your dedication to informing folks about the social and historical aspects of music, and the prospect of personal responsibility around that, fit within your music career?

It took me years to figure out if I even wanted to be involved in making people aware of the historical aspects of the music that I was playing. I also had to learn a lot about music that I was playing and about folk music in general, because I didn’t really grow up listening to folk music at all or bluegrass or things like that. So I’ve learned a lot in the last five, six, seven years.

Things changed when I finished [my album] Urban Driftwood. Just remembering, going to protests up here in Washington, D.C. when George Floyd’s murder happened and seeing all of the political unrest and social unrest around here where I live, and obviously seeing it on the news everywhere else definitely made me change my mind. As far as being open about, for example, speaking about being a Black female guitarist, which is not something I really wanted to do in my late teens, early 20s. I definitely came around to it and now see it as a necessity.

To me, social media is a great tool to try to help educate folks, because there’s so much online at our fingertips that’s just factually incorrect. Anything I can do to try to help mitigate that, I think is good. I think it’s important for me now to be involved in the full scene in a way that’s positive and educating people – to just get involved in things or be involved in ways that I’m interested in. I’ve always been a history nerd anyway so to me, it makes sense now to do that, whereas before, I guess I just wasn’t mature enough to understand why I would have to be a musician and educate folks and have a social media presence. But now I don’t have a problem at all.

What would you describe as the most challenging aspect of making Acadia and how did you wade through that experience?

Figuring out how to finish some of the songs. I realized I have to let time pass and let it come to me. “Sisters,” for example, I came up with that melody like, two, three years ago now? And it was stuck being a two-, three-minute song for years. I thought, “This doesn’t feel done.” But I couldn’t come up with anything. Then, the night before my recording session, I came up with four extra minutes of material. For me, I can’t force the issue of finishing a song. It just kind of has to come to me. And whenever it comes, it comes. And these songs, some of them took a really long time to get finished. So that was probably the most difficult part of it.

What was the most interesting new musical technique or process you explored while making Acadia and why was it so meaningful?

Producing was the most interesting part of it; hearing what people heard in my music was by far the most interesting aspect of recording. Just hearing how people process it, then hearing what they do in response. Pretty much everyone grasped what I was trying to accomplish in the song that they’re featured on.

For example, “Hummingbird” with Allison de Groot and Tatiana Hargreaves. They both come from a more, I guess, old-time tradition, which is very different than [the kind of song] “Hummingbird” is. It took a little while for us to kind of get the song in the studio, because the song is very difficult, first of all, to play. But they absolutely nailed it. Hearing how they heard the timing and the syncopation and the melody, and the melodic aspects of the song, and how they thought, “Okay, I can fit in here and drop out here and harmonize here,” it was really interesting to see how people’s brains worked and how it’s so different from how mine works but it somehow fits together pretty seamlessly.

How did you discern your feelings when a collaborator might encourage you to try something new, versus deciding to stay true to yourself and your voice as a composer and musician?

I feel like I was more so bringing the collaborators to a different place that maybe they weren’t used to and pretty much everybody who’s on the record was willing to do that and go to somewhere new.

Once the recording process and collaboration process got started, it was really easy for me to just tell people, “Okay, I want this, this, and this.” And most of the time, people are just like, “Yeah!” With Darlingside and the song “Virga,” I made it clear that I actually wanted them to do lyrics and then we worked on that. They were open to it for the most part so for me it was easy. But maybe for some of the collaborators it was about getting them out of their usual music making mode and into a more open-minded mode.

Being ready to make an album like this, it took living life and having different experiences.

(Editor’s Note: Continue exploring our Artist of the Month coverage of Yasmin Williams here.)


Photo Credit: Ebru Yildiz

BGS 5+5: David Berkeley

Artist: David Berkeley
Hometown: Santa Fe, New Mexico
Latest Album: A Pail Full of Fire
Personal Nicknames (or rejected band names): The only time I really had a nickname was when I was teaching in a public middle school in Bushwick. The kids called me Shaggy.

What’s the toughest time you ever had writing a song?

I gave up on my song “This Be Dear to Me” probably a dozen times. I began writing it as an exercise in positivity after Trump got elected. Instead of lamenting all the things I feared would be ruined, I decided to try to write a list of what I loved. That’s where it started. Pages and pages of places I found beautiful, people I cared about, lists of what I valued. I guess I wanted to unite people who were behaving like they had nothing in common by reminding them (us) that there are lots of things we all love. Like, here are some things we all must hold dear, right? Rivers and trees, the autumn, the moon, our children. If we remember that then maybe we stop fighting about less important things?

But I didn’t want it to be heavy-handed or preachy. And I didn’t want it to be too syrupy. Eventually, I had the list and I shaped it into maybe forty verses. That felt like a few too many, though, so I spent a long time whittling. I got it down to three. At first the chorus was just an extended Amen. “Ah ah ah ah… men.” But that seemed like a cop out. So I ultimately added a lyric, which wasn’t easy to write. It appeals to Adonai to help remind us what is worth fighting for. That also felt like a risk. I’m Jewish, but I rarely reference my Judaism in my music. Finally, I had this idea that the song should lift and modulate as it progresses, so the lyric would feel more urgent and the music could soar. But I also knew that I wanted it to feel cyclical and to come back home at the end. So then it became almost like a puzzle. Could I move through several keys and return to where we began? That’s ultimately where the song landed. It’s the hardest I ever worked on a song, but it’s also probably the most powerful to sing live.

Which elements of nature do you spend the most time with and how do those impact your work?

I never had a dog growing up. In fact, I never really liked dogs. I pretended to like your dog if we met. But really I was a little afraid of her/him. And I never understood dog people. I’m a father of two boys. And when people talked about their dog like a child, I bristled. But we got a puppy during COVID. Her name is Mali, and I love her. Like I really love her. She’s changed my whole world. Don’t tell my boys, but I often miss Mali more than my kids when I’m on tour. She certainly seems happier to see me when I come home than they do.

This all to say, I spend a lot of my time hiking with her in the Sangre de Cristo mountains above Santa Fe. You’re far more likely to run into me hiking up Picacho or on the backside of Sun Mountain than anywhere else in town. You can see a hundred miles from up there. And I normally bring a blank book with me. I start a lot of songs on those hikes. And I try my melodies out on Mali. She has better ears than humans do, so I think it’s fair to trust her reaction.

How often do you hide behind a character in a song or use “you” when it’s actually “me”?

I wouldn’t call it hiding, but I use characters more and more in my writing to express certain ideas or emotions that might be clearer through the eyes or mouth of someone else. My song “Omaha,” for example, is a song about a guy trying to reunite with a lost love. That’s not autobiographical at all, but it’s honest.

And of course in my duo project, Sons of Town Hall. My partner and I have created a whole mythic backstory. My name in that project is Josiah and every song is sung from within that fictitious world. We’re now rolling out a comedy-fiction podcast series called Madmen Cross the Water that tells the stories behind the songs on our new album. But just like in my solo work, even though there is a character I’m writing for it doesn’t compromise the honesty. In fact, sometimes I think we can be more honest and open when we are wearing a kind of mask.

If you didn’t work in music, what would you do instead?

I’d go back to the Salmon River in Idaho and try to get my old job back as a river guide. I love playing music, but it isn’t an easy career and there’s a lot of it I don’t like – promoting myself, for example, or sound checking, or all the travel. But I liked every bit of being a river guide back in the day.

Since food and music go so well together, what is your dream pairing of a meal and a musician?

I’d like to travel back with Anthony Bourdain on a food tour of Italy. And after eating our way through the country for a few weeks, we end up in Rome. We head to the Pantheon one night under a big moon. It’s all barricaded off, but we’re ushered in. It turns out that Neil Young is there (but it’s 1971 Neil). He’s got a pipe organ in there and a few guitars. They serve us plates of cacio e pepe and glasses of cold Frascati and he basically plays the Massey Hall set for maybe fifty of us.


Photo courtesy of the artist.

MIXTAPE: Celtic & American Folk Inspirations From Rakish

As a duo rooted in both Celtic and American traditions, we find the intersection of these worlds to be a rich and endlessly inspiring place. From the rhythmic drive of Irish & Scottish reels to the melodic storytelling of ballads, we’ve always been captivated by how these two traditions speak to one another. They each carry a sense of community and history, and both offer the chance to push boundaries and explore something new.

Our latest album, Now, O Now, wants to embrace this duality. It’s a reflection of our love for these traditions, but also a hope to continually reinterpret them. This Mixtape is a collection of the kinds of tunes and songs that have shaped our journey – music that evokes both the wild energy of a late-night session and the quiet contemplation of a solo walk through the woods.

These tracks are selected from the voices of friends, mentors, and heroes who have inspired our original music along the way. We hope you enjoy the mix! – Rakish

“6 Then 5” – Seamus Egan

We love to put this track on at the beginning of a long drive. Seamus continues to be a master of bringing together composition, sound design, and groove.

“Goodbye” – Sean Watkins & The Bee Eaters

This whole record is great; it combines Sean Watkins’ brilliance with the thoughtfulness of The Bee Eaters, who happen to be some of our favorite musicians in the world.

“765” – Rakish, Jamie Oshima

We composed these tunes and had the idea of having our good friend Jamie Oshima produce/remix the track. He’s an incredibly thoughtful and agile musician and brings such a unique aesthetic to new fiddle music. Thanks Jamie!

“Hidden Love/Sheila Coyles” – Four Men & A Dog

We listened to this album in the car recently and this track was so good that Conor had an epiphany about how it brought together all the elements of arranging music that inspire him: highly poetic language, mystery, and an excellent Irish tune.

“City In the North” – Maeve Gilchrist

Maeve is remarkable at seemingly everything she puts her hands to; this song highlights not only her virtuosity and inventive harmony, but also her narrative ability to weave melancholy and joy.

“Bull Frogs Croon (Suite)” – Aoife O’Donovan

This whole record is potent for so many reasons. Aoife’s setting of Peter Sears’ poems is a reminder of her singular gift for putting melody to text, and Jeremy Kittel’s string arrangements are some of the best we’ve ever heard!

“Jack Dolan” – John Doyle

Just of the grooviest versions of a ballad ever from the preeminent master of Irish guitar in the modern era.

“Imaginary People” – Viv & Riley

Viv & Riley are at the forefront of writing incredible original music inspired by their traditional music backgrounds. We’ve admired them for a long time and they always blow us away.

“6 O’Clock in the Morning” – Darrell Scott

Tristan Clarridge, who always has the best listening recommendations, turned us onto this album. This track stands out with its intense lyricism and amazing instrumental orchestration.

“Turn the Page Again” – Tim O’Brien

We’ve loved this song for so long. This whole album is incredible, but this track in particular has been a source of inspiration by bringing together Tim’s songwriting, John Doyle’s groove, and Casey Driessen’s improvisational style.

“We’ve Got Our Friends” – Maura Shawn Scanlin

Maura’s solo record impeccably brings together the many things she excels at (and some of the things this playlist hopes to demonstrate): instrumental acuity, lyrical thoughtfulness, and masterful arranging.

“Strange Vessels” – Caoimhin Ó Raghallaigh & Thomas Bartlett

Conor listens to this album all the time. It’s a source of inspiration and a reminder to make music that feels relaxed and to not use too many notes.

“Dear Starling” – Pumpkin Bread

This is a favorite tune from a band with some of our best friends we were a part of in our college days. Thanks for listening!


Photo Credit: Sasha Pedro

Amy Helm: Letters to Women and the Legacy of The Barn

Amy Helm has had one of the most fascinating lives that any person can have. As you might have guessed from her famous last name, she comes from roots music royalty. Amy is the daughter of Levon Helm, the beloved late drummer for the incredible groundbreaking Canadian-American group The Band. She also continues to run The Barn, a music venue and recording studio built by her dad and Garth Hudson, which served as Levon Helm Studios.

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In her own career, she has created a new lineage of musical tradition, family, great songwriting, poetry, and a feminine power that emanates off of her. We’re talking about her new album, Silver City, but we’re also talking about songwriting. We’re talking about grief. We’re talking about single parenthood. We’re talking about family. We’re talking about being on the road. We’re talking about how our bodies change over time and how that changes us as a vocalist and as an artist.


Photo Credit: Ebru Yildiz

On ‘Pathways,’ Julian Taylor Looks Inward Rather Than Outward

Much like the songs on his latest album Pathways, the sounds swirling around Canadian singer-songwriter Julian Taylor on our recent phone call for BGS were also filled with curiosity, emotion, and the subtle, intrinsic tones of a modern world unfolding.

Walking the streets of his native Toronto, the introspective depths of Taylor’s voice and pure sentiments radiated in conversation were only complemented by the organized chaos of an international city in motion. Honking of taxi cabs at clustered intersections; the thrust of train cars on the underground subway; other conversations of varying degrees of volume in passing. And Taylor himself.

“Don’t the grass look greener on the other side/ but be careful of what you wish for could get left behind,” Taylor weaves through “Ain’t Life Strange.” “I see where I went wrong and all I could have done. There’s a fine line between a broken and beautiful mind.”

Those lyrics in particular speak to the long, arduous, yet bountiful road for Taylor. At 46, he’s spent his entire adult life in pursuit of creative fulfillment and stability in an often haphazard industry. In his tenure, Taylor’s seen the high-water mark and complete collapse of the music business – and then some.

Co-founder of 1990s Canadian alt-rock act Staggered Crossing, Taylor found himself in big meetings with even bigger record label executives. The band was signed by Warner Music Canada and earned some limited success before being dropped by the label not long after their debut album hit the streets.

From there, it became a DIY ethos at the heart of Staggered Crossing. But, after a handful of albums and plateauing popularity, the group split in 2007, ultimately leaving Taylor out on his own. But, he trudged ahead, even if he was unsure of his next move, whether personally or professionally.

Frustrated and burned out by the music industry, Taylor circled back to a beloved bar of his, the Dora Keogh Irish Pub in the Danforth neighborhood of Toronto. There he summoned the courage and energy to start an open mic night. With a stripped-down set of simply Taylor and his guitar, he quickly found this new path of intent and purpose for the music within him.

From there, it’s been this ongoing journey of self and of song for Julian Taylor. What has resulted is this soothing voice of determination and compassion pushing steadfast into this latest chapter of his sound and scope.

I was recently in Toronto for the first time and it felt like one of the most culturally and sonically diverse cities I’ve ever come across.

Julian Taylor: Yeah, definitely. It’s been that way ever since I was a kid. It was a real small town when I was born, but it’s just grown exponentially. The music thing has been extremely positive. People really do support each other and everything. Like, it doesn’t really matter where you’re coming from.

What does it mean to be a songwriter from Ontario and greater Canada? I mean, you have some of the best of the best. Gordon Lightfoot, Gord Downie, Neil Young, Joni Mitchell, Leonard Cohen. The list goes on.

It’s an honor. I’m happy to be from here. You have the rich heritage that I have and the rich musical landscape that we grew up with. A lot of people don’t really know that so many of these artists, like the people that you’ve mentioned, are Canadian. We’ve had such an incredible influence on the world. I think a lot of that has to do with the cultural mosaic and landscape we live in. I mean, it is not easy to tour this country. And we sort of grind our teeth here a lot of the time. So, when you do that, it makes you a little bit more appreciative of any sort of accolades or any sort of impact that you may have on the world.

When I was reading your backstory, you must have been a teenager when you started Staggered Crossing.

Yeah, I was pretty young. When we first got signed, it was at the tail end of, I guess, what you would want to call the high-water mark. We didn’t get to really experience that. We experienced the very last little bit of it. And then the entire industry changed. I’ve seen it change so many times in my career. And I started when I was 16.

What was it that kept you going after Staggered Crossing broke up? Was it just this idea that, “Hell or high water, this is what I’m going to, no matter what”?

Part of that was it. The other part of it was encouragement. The fact that any of my songs resonated with anybody really was the main point. You’re like, “I’m going to do this no matter what, because this is my calling and this is my passion, this is my purpose.” But, when you have those things validated by other people? That’s just a huge gift. The fact that people would continue to book me and play my stuff on the radio or people would come to shows and tell me that my music meant something to them. With that kind of encouragement, it’s really hard to stop going.

With Staggered Crossing being signed and going through the motions of very large corporations, what were some of the things you took away from that experience you applied to your solo career?

I think it all happened afterwards, really. Not during that period of time, because afterwards we had to fend for ourselves. But, it was the first time that the do-it-yourself mentality was put into place. We didn’t even know what DIY was. I just ended up doing it because I wanted to get my music out there. I wanted to keep touring, to continue to create records. So, I did anything and everything I could to keep that happening. I learned a lot about the business, about promotions, marketing, and distribution. Basically, everything a label would do for an artist, I learned how to do it alongside my friends and we kept on pushing ahead. It was hard and also easy at the same time, because it was something I wanted to do. It certainly tired me out at one point in time. I was so disenchanted with music that I stopped and then I came back with a brand-new sort of outlook on it.

What does it mean to be at this juncture of your career and still be just as curious, and always mining for the next song, as ever?

That’s a good question, man. It’s really about the job and the task at hand. And the job is to document the human condition through my experiences. World domination is still on the back burner. [Laughs] As an artist, it’s about putting in the work and that work is really hard to do. It’s emotionally exhausting. It’s physically exhausting. But, at the end of the day, when you look at yourself in the mirror and think about it, “I’ve written these beautiful songs and they’ve brought beauty to people’s lives.” And these performances have brought beauty to both of our lives – not just theirs, but to mine. It’s a two-way street.

Where does that work ethic come from within you?

Maybe it’s the Jamaican side of me. [Laughs] It’s definitely a family thing. My family on both sides have worked so hard. My mom’s side of the family has sacrificed and worked so hard. And my dad’s side, who migrated [to Canada]. On my mom’s side, we were here to begin with. And my dad’s side, they came here with not a lot to go on, and discrimination and things like that. They worked their asses off and always told me I would have to work 150 percent harder than anybody else because of my background.

And have you?

From a very young age.

Do you find they were correct with that assessment?

Yeah, they’re still correct about that. And, I don’t really know how and when that’s going to change. There are more opportunities reported to people now that are minorities, but the reality of having to work that much harder is still a truism. That’s unfortunate. But, you know what? I dare to ask anybody from the minority to say that something hasn’t benefited them from that work ethic.

As you were trying to move forward after Staggered Crossing, you started this open mic at a bar in Danforth. Were you kind of circling back to where it all began and recalibrating things?

Yeah. I used to work at that same Irish pub in the Danforth. I was a bus boy and also a server. One day, some old guy came in and he was just so rude to me, so racist. And I thought to myself, “What am I doing? I’ve got to do something about this.” That was the catalyst that got me back into performing music. The proprietors of that establishment offered the open stage to me on that Monday to help me get going again. They’re some of the greatest friends I’ve got in this world. And it was funny because, after Staggered Crossing, I just couldn’t go on. I had tried so hard to “make it” and it was such an uphill battle. Pushing a boulder up a hill. I gave up and needed some time. And then when the open stage came back, it was a community thing. I rallied around people and they rallied around me. And it’s still a musical community out here in the city. It all comes down to community.

Why did you title the album Pathways?

Pathways felt like a journey. It’s been so long getting here, you know? I’ve got 12 studio records in my name and a couple of live records. I’ve toured extensively for the last 20 years. And this felt like a record that I needed to go inward, rather than outward. Some of my records are very contemplative of the outside world. And this one, I was contemplating my inside world – what was in my head, my heart and soul. Trying to battle through some of the things that go on in everyday life decisions and choices I’ve made. The pressure of the last two records and creating a new record was on me. I was feeling that and decided Pathways was a really good metaphor for where I was headed, where I’ve gone, where I’ve been. I’m not sure where it’s going to take me next, but it just felt like a nice walk in a cool breeze.

Since the 2020 shutdown, there’s been, thankfully, a lot more conversation in the music industry about mental health and physical wellness. Does that play into where you’re at right now?

It does, yeah. I think about it every day. It’s really hard to make it as a musician. And it’s really hard to be a human in this world. I’ll be the first to admit that I go through a lot of stuff in my head. I’ve never been diagnosed with a mental illness, but I wouldn’t be surprised if I have something. I feel it a lot, the pressure to keep making a living, so that I can keep a roof over my head and my family fed. I could walk away from music if I had to, but I don’t want to. I don’t know if that would make me happy or not.

But, when it comes to fiscal responsibility, that’s a lot of stress. And then, there’s the stress social media puts on us, where you get attacked for no reason by people who don’t even know you. Sure, there’s a lot of praise going on, but there’s a lot of the other stuff, too. And now everything’s sort of been put into the musician’s hands. It’s a bit of a mental dilemma. I’ve lost a lot of people this year and that was part of that as well. You know, it’s life. People think people in the public eye or musicians putting themselves out there have rhino skin and they’re superhuman — but we’re not.


Photo Credit: Robert Georgeff