Tag: Folk

Folk Singer Sam Lee Instills Hope and Inspires Action With ‘Songdreaming’

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Sam Lee’s musical career grew out of his environmental activism, from the Mercury-winning album, Old Wow, to his ongoing conservation project Singing with Nightingales. The British folk star’s fourth album, songdreaming, released earlier this year, is his most creative venture yet. It’s a manifesto for reconnection with nature constructed from luscious, haunting reinterpretation of the songs of the UK’s Traveller communities.

Its title comes from the summer retreats Lee leads that bring people together to connect to their land and ancestry through song: “Singing to the land happens across the world in Indigenous communities that still have their relationship to nature very much intact,” says Lee. “It’s ceremony, it’s devotional work, it’s prayer.”

We spoke to Lee about songdreaming, how he sources material, queerness, connection to nature, and much more.

Sam, your music is usually based on traditional folk song, but these songs go far further from the source material than you’ve ever taken them before.

I had done a little bit of original writing on Old Wow, but this is an album where almost everything is written by me, some to the point where there’s no semblance of the primary folk song left. And that was a big risk, because I’m quite shy when it comes to thinking of myself as a songwriter. It’s not like I’m a seasoned Johnny Flynn or Anaïs Mitchell. It’s not my training, and I’m a very reluctant writer, because I failed English at school. I’ve always had a great sense of inadequacy.

What prompted you to step out of your comfort zone?

It actually came about in an unusual way – the songs were originally commissioned for a movie, The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry. It was an adaptation of a much-loved book about a man who walks the entire length of the UK, a portrait of our connection to the land and the healing power of passage-making. I was already a great fan of its director, Hettie Macdonald – her first movie, Beautiful Thing, was seminal for me when it came out in 1996 – so I was really excited to be involved.

We arranged and wrote lots of songs to capture the mood of the film and some were used, but there were all these, dare I say, leftovers? Being the resourceful, waste-not-want-not type, I said, “Well, these all have something in them that is powerful.”

What was your writing process?

I don’t have one particular method, but the way I work is a bit like the way I interact with nature. I’m a forager for sonic and lyrical opportunity, seeing relationships within words in the way that I see relationships within the ecosystem. You start to find what Simon Armitage, Britain’s beloved poet laureate, will call the “neon” moments, things that suddenly shine.

Can you give an example?

Absolutely. “McCrimmon,” the third song on the album, is a ballad I learned from my late mentor Stanley Robertson, who was a Scottish Traveller. There’s a lyric in the original which is, “no more, no more,” but I heard it as “in awe, in awe.” Suddenly a whole song about the state of awe appeared.

There’s another track which is a love song between a fair maid and a plowboy – I recalibrated and reframed it, so it’s a more complicated relationship between species that are in a state of separation. The folk songs say everything already. I’m like someone taking a Shakespeare play, resetting it, maybe adapting some of the language, like West Side Story from Romeo and Juliet.

Which of the songs came easiest?

“Green Mossy Banks,” which is actually about pilgrimage, was so easy to write. It was like, “Oh my god, I’ve been wanting to write this song forever.” And they didn’t even use it in the film!

What is it in that song that you had been longing to express?

The story of the film paints this wonderful portrait of free passage – there’s never a moment where it deals with trespass or permissions or this idea of private land. No barbed wire fences, or angry landowners going, “What do you think you’re doing here?” One could walk from Devon to the borders of Scotland and never have any issue.

But there is no person in England who goes on a country walk and isn’t affected by our punitive, archaic, and utterly unequal private ownership laws. That’s why I was a founder member of the Right to Roam movement. For all its avoidance of politics, “Green Mossy Banks” is a deeply political song. Social and ecological injustice is at the roots of so much of our international crisis.

Is the UK not quite a good place to walk compared to, say the US? The English have ancient rights of way that allow them to walk across private land, whereas try it in the US and you might get shot…

Absolutely. But where does the US get their notion of land rights from? They were inherited as an enhanced version of British law at a time when, in England, if you were caught poaching a hare or something, that’s it, you had your hands cut off, or you were hanged, or sent to Australia.

On the music video for “Green Mossy Banks” we see you surrounded by various mesmerising English landscapes.

It’s a combination of many of the pilgrimages that I’ve made with Chris Park, a druid, and Charlotte Pulver, an apothecary. At cardinal points of the year – the solstices, the equinoxes – we lead communal pilgrimages to places like Stonehenge, or the South Downs.

Are there any songs on the album that were inspired by specific places?

“Meeting is a Pleasant Place” is very much about the Dartmoor landscape, down to the very tor that we filmed the video on. The exact location shall remain nameless, because it’s one of the few tors that exist in a forest, as opposed to Dartmoor’s sheep-wrecked landscape of denuded grassland. It’s deep in beech and oak forests, which makes it especially stunning.

And the song itself came out of a Devon Gypsy folk tune.

Yes, and it contains this rather mystical language that had become something of a mantra to me. “Meeting is a Pleasant Place/ Between my love and I/ I’ll go down to Yonder’s Valley, it’s there I’ll sit and sing…” It’s bad English, but at the same time so powerful in its ambiguity. It could be a love song between two people, but in that Gypsy corruption of the words, suddenly it speaks about something so much bigger. So then I wrote my three verses as a love song to the land.

The appearance of the Trans Voices choir on the chorus turns it into something epic and anthemic…

It’s English folk gospel, as I call it. ILĀ, who runs Trans Voices, is an old friend and when the choir was set up I said I’ve got loads of songs that I’d like to speak to the queerness of land. Folk song often tends towards the heteronormative, and I want to break that down.

In the liner notes you also talk about the queerness of nature, what do you mean by that?

When you look at relationships within the natural world, sexual or otherwise, what you see is massive diversity in roles and identities. In the fungi world, for instance, there are hundreds and hundreds of genders, working collaboratively in community. Humans, too, need to start to recalibrate the way we behave in nature. So much of our subjugation and exploitation of nature has come through a male-dominated worldview and it’s not working.

One of the species you have a great connection with is the nightingale – as well as singing with them in secret woodland gigs every year, you recently wrote a book about their threatened extinction.

Yes, and when I’m with them, for seven weeks each spring, I get this sense of what is it like to be in a relationship that’s falling apart. That heartbreak, saying farewell, and knowing that it has a time limit to it. That’s what inspired the opening track, “Bushes and Briars.” It was the first folk song Ralph Vaughan Williams ever collected, and it’s a lament of a man and a woman who are separating. As somebody who spends a lot of time in bushes and briars trying to keep a relationship with a bird going extinct happening, that’s a space that is very familiar to me.

Coming from a background of singing acoustically, outdoors, how do you work up the big, dense sounds that populate your albums?

I do my writing with James Keay, who plays piano in the band. We both want a richness of sound, so that what are often very repetitive lines and melodies can take the listener on journeys through different emotional states. It’s about trying to paint as big a painting as possible.

As well as strings and horns and pipes, you’ve added a more pan-global feel with a Syrian Qanun, and a Swedish Nykelharpa.

We wanted to create textures that gave a sense of both the ancient and the unusual. I’d never used a Qanun in an arrangement before, though I have used dulcimers before on almost every album, which are part of the same family.

Maya Youssef, Britain’s best-known Qanun player, features on the one folk song that you haven’t changed, “Black Dog and Sheep Crook,” about a shepherd being thrown over by his lover because he’s “just” a shepherd.

I’ve kept its truth and entirety – it just felt so wonderful bringing the tragedy and the melancholy of the Qanun into that song.

So often in this album you’re grieving our detachment from and devaluing of the natural world. But the spirit and purpose of the music, as you describe it, is also to re-establish those connections. What are your current priorities for climate activism?

At the moment, there’s a big campaign to get young people voting, and voting for nature, in the UK. Hope for me is always about having a plan. And there are many brilliant plans out there. It’s about overcoming apathy and resistance and reawakening people to what we have to lose.

I can’t speak to what I think the outcomes will be, I think that’s a dangerous thing to do. But I hope that the album has as many opportunities to instill hope and beauty as there are moments of doom and tragedy.

Photo courtesy of the artist.

Alisa Amador’s New Album Contains ‘Multitudes’

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

After getting a preview of Alisa Amador’s new album, Multitudes, I was excited to catch up with her and hear more about it. The production and strings on songs like “Nudo de raíces” and “Extraño” reminded me of the work of Brazilian artist Tim Bernades, someone I have recently been addicted to. When I brought that up in our interview, Alisa got very excited and showed me a playlist she had made on which Bernardes was the first featured artist – as it happens, she is also a huge fan!

Thus, our conversation started off with a bang of enthusiasm for Bernardes’ Mil Cosas Invisíveis – while it turns out Amador’s Multitudes string parts had been recorded before she ever heard the Bernardes record – and we continued by talking about her life as the child of touring musicians, her guitar inspirations, and how she interacts with songwriting as a bilingual musician.

Multitudes is full of wide, spacious arrangements with lyrics that shoot straight to the point: “I love my life/ But I hate it sometimes,” she sings on “Love Hate Song.” On “Milonga Accidental” she sings, “Cuando miro el agua / Cuando miro el cielo / Cuando miro el agua otra vez…” Roughly translated, this means: “When I look at the water / When I look at the sky / When I look at the water, once again.”

Through our chat, I learned the reasoning behind these direct and simple lyrics – and how her reasoning differs depending on the language she’s working in. Amador is an artist that has found a rare confidence in the way she makes music. I couldn’t help but feel inspired by her calm demeanor and rooted presence. I soon learned that she had been on a long journey to reaching that place for herself.

I want to ask you about your time growing up playing with your parents, who are folk musicians in the band Sol y Canto – what did you take from those experiences and what did you want to do differently?

Alisa Amador: My parents are Latin folk musicians who are touring to this day. They are amazing, and I would not be the musician I am without that primary education. It’s interesting to think about what I’d want to do different, I am always wondering that without being conscious of it I think.

The big thing is just trying to take care of myself better. I think the culture of the music industry is that of completely running yourself into the ground and then some. It seems that being an artist and being a human are often at odds with each other…

I just witnessed my family work so hard, and not have a lot of breaks or self care or healing factored in, we were always [in] survival mode and worrying about money constantly. Although, at the time, that part didn’t traumatize me at all, I don’t know why.

As a kid we just had such a rich life; traveling everywhere, seeing live music, being around people who really care. Getting to experience that much art from such a young age, while really taking touring life in stride, it was a fantastic way to grow up. But I do look back and realize how exhausted and how stressed my parents were and I don’t want that for myself.

So is this something that you realized more recently? Given that as a kid you didn’t feel affected by it?

I think there was a moment – because what my bio says about winning NPR Tiny Desk contest, that just at the moment I was going to give up, that is really true. I was going through the logistics of leaving music, it was terrifying and really painful, but I was at a point in my career that I had done everything for everyone else and had no idea how to advocate for myself. It had ruined me; I was playing gigs where I didn’t feel safe and not being paid wages that were sustainable. … Consequently, I felt like a life in music was not feasible for me.

When I got that call that day from NPR, I almost told them to call someone else. Eventually I decided to say yes, but I had to treat that “yes” as a total reset, a complete reimagining, almost a starting over, and this time I had to take care of myself.

With this reset, did the actual music you were making change at all, or was it only your intentions with how it would be made?

I had been in a period of writers block for two years and I didn’t come out of that for another year after winning the Tiny Desk Contest. I felt like an imposter, I was like, “Little do these people know that I don’t write songs anymore…” But I chose to relearn how to write songs and to try to meet myself where I was, instead of trying to making something perfect or good.

I just had to remember, how did I start writing? I was 15 and struggling, I didn’t know how to coexist with painful things, and I started writing because it helped me get through it. I didn’t write because it needed to be good or I needed to sell it. At that time, I had all these other creative practices, [like] journaling and dancing around my room, and I had let go of all of them during that period, and I felt like I couldn’t make anything. I wasn’t ready to process what I had been through.

When I did starting writing again, it had to come from this place of childlike curiosity and wonder and I had to tell myself every time I wrote, “It will probably be bad.” And letting it be bad is what allowed me to write anything at all.

As a bilingual writer, you have access to another tool – choice of language – that many of us don’t have. How and why do you approach your songs in one language or the other, and how does it color them?

I heard Allison Russell talk about this in an interview. I’m paraphrasing, but I think she said something like, “Writing in different languages is like accessing different channels of the unconscious …” and similarly, I feel like I don’t make a conscious choice about what language I write in, but it could come from a different place.

I have noticed that writing in English, it tends to be more conversational. I just tell what I’m feeling, literally, and try to trust that the feelings will reach people, as long I’m being honest.

When I’m writing in Spanish, even though it’s my native language, I’ve always lived in the U.S., so I just have a limited vocabulary. There was a period of time where I was only speaking Spanish at home, it was the strict language at home, so I think it’s my childlike language, but it gets used in new and poetic ways. Whatever words can capture that feeling are the ones that I’m gonna stick to, because I don’t have that many to choose from! I don’t have trick phrases or literary devices, and maybe I have a little less judgement in Spanish as well. Limitation is really a gift in that way.

That’s really interesting! So with that in mind, how do you feel about language translation with songs? Is it helpful or harmful to the meaning?

I actually love translating and when the first album review came out from No Depression about Multitudes, the headline was “…Alisa Amador is Found in Translation.” I was so happy about that. Because really, my best language is Spanglish, switching in between is where I’m most comfortable, and that in-between-ness is where I’m always existing.

In my parent’s band, they would often give a translation of the song for an English speaking audience; my dad would play the progression of the song and my mom would stand there dramatically, looking fabulous, telling the lyrics in a beautiful way, always within the frame of the chord progression.

So I really enjoy giving a translation before singing the songs now as well, and so many people have come up to tell me they love it. The translation being in time with the song makes it possible for them to even follow along while I sing it in Spanish.

There’s something so metaphorically perfect about that, because when you’re living in between you feel like you’re always missing something, but there’s something gained from that, too, because it makes it possible to give grace when someone isn’t understanding, or bring them in when they aren’t feeling heard. And that is what I’m able to do when I give a translation.

Can you tell me about your guitar style? It’s really beautiful. Who or what influences the way you play? And how did you learn?

I started because I idolized my dad. He is a classical guitarist and he’s trained in flamenco. As a kid I studied flamenco dance, too, so I used to dance while he would play. He gave me one of his old foot stools and I played nylon-string guitar for a long time, that was my first instrument. I just studied folk songs like “Monster Mash” and “Blackbird” and “American Pie.” My dad was super technical, but I didn’t study with him, and I knew I wanted to become a better guitarist.

Then in college, I saw a musician just playing solo electric guitar and singing and I had no idea an electric could sound like that. I love electric – but nylon-string acoustic will always be the origin of my playing, so I approach the electric guitar that way. Resonance is really important to me and noticing how chords feel. A lot of my writing is just simple chords and adding and taking away notes. I’m very much still learning guitar, I’m in this stage of guitar learning where I get lost in self doubt, so I practice whatever I play live so much in order to feel confident performing.

I’m sure there’s a lot of Spanish language folk music that folks in the “Americana” scene are really missing out on, myself included. What are some other artists that sing in Spanish or in other languages, that you think folks should know about?

One of my big inspirations for the overall sonic work of Multitudes was the album Domus by Sílvia Pérez Cruz. I listened to it obsessively seven years ago without realizing it was the soundtrack of a film, Circa de Tu Casa, which is about the real housing crisis in Spain. [Pérez Cruz also stars in this film.]

Something I thought Cruz did so well on this record is that she is so feelings-oriented. What she feels is what dictates how she sings the song, which is a philosophy that I share. But she also has this riveting voice, so it’s all about telling a story. The production on the record completely holds what she’s singing, but it is also musically and technically beautiful. You want to have a record you can turn to again and again and notice new things to love.

Is there anything else you want readers to know before we end?

I guess I’d like to give a gentle reminder to human listeners, to the people listening and reading, that you really matter to independent artists. Every listener is the life force behind our careers. When someone comes to a show, and then comes back with a friend or presses play on a record they’ve not heard before, those things are what make my job possible, so thank you to the individuals of the world who press play and pay attention!

Photo Credit: Sasha Pedro

MIXTAPE: Blackwater Railroad’s Music From the Last Frontier

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Alaska is an incredible melting pot for artists. Despite our sparse population, we are filled with wonderful creative types and a bustling music scene. Lots of our music and tradition stems from bluegrass and string music, the roots of which can be seen in so many of our incredible acts. As a band, we seek to celebrate our state and our scene, both of which are thriving and yet largely ignored by the lower 48. – Blackwater Railroad

“Heirlooms” – Josh Fortenbery

Josh’s new album is so immediately captivating. His voice is incredible, the instrumentation divine, and his songwriting is top notch. You can lose yourself instantly in the images he paints in your mind. He’s also part of Muskeg Collective, a Juneau-Based supergroup of folk musicians.

“Call Me a Fool” – Erin Heist

Erin is also part of the Muskeg Collective and another great example of the high standard that Juneau musicians bring to the world. Her smooth voice and raw lyrics speak directly to our hearts. Be sure to listen for the wonderful mandolin work by her husband, Andrew Heist, on this track. Power couple much??

“Sundays” – Wiley Post

We’ve had the pleasure of sharing the stage with these folks a few times now. They have an eclectic indie vibe that is so characteristic of our scene. Enjoy soaring fiddle lines, tasteful piano, and angelic vocals on this one!

“Brand New Love” – Black Barrel & The Bad Men

One of the more recent additions to our Alaskan scene, BB&TBM have hit the ground running. Their debut EP is gold and their live performances are top-notch. They ooze passion in their vocal arrangements and instrumentation. Their songs get stuck in my head constantly. I would not doubt big things to be coming to these (really good) Bad Men.

“Sink or Swim” – Zen Trembles

Becky Kotter has one of the most unique approaches to guitar and music that I’ve ever seen. She uses multiple capos and open tunings, playing entirely by ear to create her special brand of folk. Her voice is so nuanced and creative and every song you hear is creative and fresh!

“The Cuckoo” – Annie Bartholomew

Annie B is an undeniable talent. Her songwriting and lyrics resonate so strongly for us, and her aesthetic in general is delightful. Every time I’ve had the pleasure to see her perform live was an enchanting experience. The world needs more Annies!

“Orbiting Things” – Fireweed Fiddle

Ok, ok, yes, Fireweed Fiddle does happen to be our very own fiddle player, Rachel DeTemple. When she’s not sitting in with us all across Alaska, she’s writing brilliant music of her own. Rachel’s new album showcases her wonderful skills as both a singer and a player, all while being wrapped in a perfect folky bow.

“Traveler’s Waltz” – Hope Social Club

This is one of the most iconic acts we have in our state. They have a rich history of incredible music and live performances. Enjoy their entire catalog, and if you’re lucky enough to see one of the few shows they play a year, you’re in for a treat!

“Pray for John” – Roland Roberts

Roland is such a good storyteller. Even without guitar in hand you can listen to him wax poetic about anything. This is a slower tune, brilliant in all respects, but be sure to check out his other tunes for some more upbeat and rocking pieces as well. Roland also helped write one of the tunes on our new album, “Road to Make Believe”!

“Not Over You” – Evan Phillips

This tune has a wonderful vibe. I got to enjoy this one for the first time on a long trip back home in the band van. The dreamlike production paired with nature’s majesty on the highway made for one of the most delightful moments I’ve had in a long time. For a moment, I forgot I was stuck crammed in a van with five other stinky dudes for eight hours. I mean, that’s gotta count for something, right?

“Lucky Tennessee” – Bethlehem Shalom

This is such a cool track by such a creative artist. I think within a few seconds her iconic flavor will pour out of your speakers. A great example of the creative sounds and experiences you can get out of living in our wild state.

“Rock and Roll Man” – Blackwater Railroad

Hey, it’s us! This is the most rock-oriented song on our new album. It also might be the one that was the most exciting to make. The build up at the end features Taylor Vidic on vocals. We turned out the lights in the studio and just asked her to ad-lib based on how the track felt to her. She delivered 1000% and made for what might be the most iconic moment on the album.

“Lonely House” – Steve Brown and the Bailers

This is an awesome tune on the road. Alaska is huge and spread out so we spend a lot of time on the highway. Tunes like this keep the wheels turning and the spirits high. This song gets more and more creative as it evolves, so be sure to keep listening to see what happens. Spoiler: it’s sick.

Photo Credit: David Juarez

Basic Folk: Chris Smither & Peter Mulvey

Posted on by Shelby Williamson

Chris Smither has been Peter Mulvey’s mentor since back in 1993, when a young Mulvey opened for the already seasoned Smither. The blues and folk legend liked what he heard and enjoyed their similarities in creativity and quirks; he took that young man on the road with him. Their musical partnership has survived the digital age, the pandemic, parenthood, and the indictment of a former president. Along the way each has worked to influence their best habits and life lessons on the other. As far as mentor-mentee relationships go, this one is for the history books.

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In this rare joint interview on Basic Folk, we address the important questions: Why do they delight in calling each other by their last names? Smither shares that he was first called by his last name in Paris when he was in school. The two debate who has the better hometown, Milwaukee or New Orleans. Actually, it’s not so much a debate as a reflection on New Orleans music, since that is clearly the better spot to grow up as a musician.

Mulvey reflects on their musical differences, citing some of his main inspirations to be Kendrick Lamar and Ani DiFranco, versus Smither’s affinity for Joni Mitchell and Bob Dylan. There are nods to David “Goody” Goodrich, Jeffrey Foucault, Kris Delmhorst and the woman behind it all, Carol Young (AKA Smither’s long-time manager, AKA his wife). We break down how each feels about fatherhood and try to get Smither to spill his secret to longevity. Spoiler alert: It’s not from remaining still.

Smither’s 20th album, All About the Bones, is out now. Peter Mulvey’s latest is the acoustic retrospective, More Notes From Elsewhere.

Photo Credit: Chris Smither by Jo Chattman; Peter Mulvey by Paul Reitano.

BGS 5+5: JEMS

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Artist: JEMS
Hometown: Los Angeles, California
Latest Album: Back Around
Personal nicknames (or rejected band names): Wild Valley Dream Weavers, lots of others!

Which artist has influenced you the most – and how?

I grew up with Joni Mitchell. For every season of life, her music feels like the soundtrack. I find myself returning to songs and finding new meanings as my scope continues to broaden and deepen. Her voice is unapologetically her own and I am so inspired by her journey. – Emily

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

When my dad played me the song “Eleanor Rigby” I had a major lightbulb moment. I don’t think I had realized how powerful music as storytelling was until then. I must’ve been 8 or 9 and my imagination burst wide open. – Jess

Probably when I started playing the songs I was writing as a kid for my Dad. He was both kind and critical in ways that confirmed that I wanted to work on and share my songs with not just him, but everyone. – Sarah Margaret

Genre is dead (long live genre!), but how would you describe the genres and styles your music inhabits?

We each have distinct vocal timbres and have been influenced by the genres we grew up listening to, from jazz and soul to indie rock to classical and film scores to folk and Americana. That diversity adds a richness to our blend and has influenced how we approach melody, harmony, and storytelling. As a trio, we live in the folk world, but lean into many other lanes depending on the instrumentation and production of each song.

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

I’d be a hairdresser. I cut and color hair for fun/therapy and I truly love it. Although I don’t know if I’d love it as much if I had to do it…  – Jess

I’d be a private chef. I love going to farmer’s markets, learning from local farmers and artisans, and expressing myself through food. Maybe it’s the French in me! – Emily

A marine biologist, or boat captain, or something that lets me be in and around the ocean all the time. – Sarah Margaret

If you were a color, what shade would you be – and why?

Gold! I’d don’t know why, but I’ve just always felt like the sunshine. – Jess

Olive green. I’d like to be as warm, relaxing, and grounded as that color! – Sarah Margaret

Photo Credit: Jayden Becker

You Gotta Hear This: New Music From Rose Cousins, Reckless Kelly, and More

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

It’s a serendipitously Canada-filled day on You Gotta Hear This, where singer-songwriter Rose Cousins brings us a brand new track, “Forget Me Not,” with a beautiful accompanying visualizer, plus Alex Mason impressively performs “Broken Bottles” live from a canoe, and Bob Sumner and posse line-dance it up in a new video for “Motel Room.”

That’s not all, though, as we’ve got alt-country, bluegrass, and more from the southern side of that border, too. Don’t miss Reckless Kelly performing “Keep Lookin’ Down The Road” in a brand new, self-shot video that features gorgeous landscapes and stunning drone footage. Derek Vanderhorst brings us the title track to his upcoming album, Be Kind, as well, with a ringer cast of collaborators including Steve Poltz.

To round out our collection this week, we’re re-sharing two premieres from earlier in the week on the site. The Doohickeys brought us zombie-fied Good Country with “Rein It In Cowboy” and virtuosic pickers Steven Moore and Jed Clark paid tribute to what would have been Frank Wakefield’s 90th birthday with their rendition of “New Camptown Races.”

It’s all right here on BGS and, to be perfectly honest, You Gotta Hear This!

Rose Cousins, “Forget Me Not”

Artist: Rose Cousins
Hometown: Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada
Song: “Forget Me Not”
Release Date: June 28, 2024 (single)
Label: Nettwerk Music Group

In Their Words: “‘Forget Me Not’ is the romance of spring unfolding into summer as it pulls us into its presence. Nature asking us to pay attention and come along. Spring is my favourite season and I’ve now gotten to see it four times in a row in the same place which touring kept me from doing for years. It’s been like falling in love in a new way with an old flame.” – Rose Cousins

Reckless Kelly, “Keep Lookin’ Down The Road”

Artist: Reckless Kelly
Hometown: Austin, Texas
Song: “Keep Lookin’ Down The Road”
Album: The Last Frontier
Release Date: September 13, 2024 (album)
Label: No Big Deal Records

In Their Words: “‘Keep Lookin’ Down The Road’ is a reflection of the past and an appreciation for the present, but most importantly, it’s an optimistic look ahead. I wrote it with my brother Gary and our buddy Jeff Crosby during our annual songwriting retreat that we jokingly refer to as the ‘hitscation.’ I came up with the line on the way there. sang a few lines into my voice recorder, and we worked out the rest over the next couple of days. Once we were in the studio, I chopped up a couple of verses and used the best lines to shorten it up a bit to match the theme of the record, which is, in a nutshell, ‘Don’t bore us, get to the chorus.’

“As technology advances by the second, I’ve wondered for a while how close to a pro-shot music video I could film using just an iPhone and a drone. Since the expense of filming a music video can sometimes outweigh its visibility, I decided to find out. Using the limited videography and editing skills I’d picked up filming the pandemic-inspired ‘Music from the Mountains’ and ‘Quarantine Kitchen’ shows, I set up time lapses of sunsets, sent the drone up to capture areal views of the mountains in my high desert backyard, and tried to time sunrises and sunsets for the cringiest part – standing in a field of sagebrush all alone, Uncle Rico style, filming myself singing and playing the song in front of a tripod. Luckily, my locations were so remote that nobody drove by and saw this old man making selfie videos like some 14-year-old influencer.

“I shot a lot of B roll road scenes, filmed at an old junkyard in the woods, waterfalls, national monuments, and in huge valleys surrounded by mountains on all sides. I tried to use the scenery as the main focus and also borrowed my brother Gary’s old Dodge truck to match the timeless vibe I was going for. It was a lot of work and took a lot more time than I thought it would, but it was fun and it turned out pretty cool, and I have a newfound appreciation for why these things cost so much. I’m not sure if I matched the quality of a high-end production, but for the cost of a tank of gas or two it’s close enough for RK!” – Willy Braun

Track Credits: Written by Willy Braun, Gary Braun (Micky & The Motorcars) and Jeff Crosby.

Wily Braun – Lead vocals, rhythm guitar, harmonica, percussion
Cody Braun – Fiddle, harmony vocals, mandolin, tenor guitar, synth, percussion
Jay Nazz – Drums, percussion
Joe Miller – Bass guitar
Geoff Queen – Lead electric guitar, pedal steel guitar
Bukka Allen – Hammond B3 organ, piano, harmonium
Kelley Mickwee – Harmony vocals

Produced by Jonathan Tyler, Cody Braun, Willy Braun.
Engineered by Joseph Holguin.
Mixed by Jacob Sciba, Cody Braun, Jonathan Tyler.
Mastered by Jacob Sciba.
Recorded at Arlyn Studios, Austin, Texas.
Additional recording at Clyde’s VIP Room, Austin, Texas.

Video Credit: Produced, directed, filmed, and edited by Willy Braun. Filmed on location in Idaho.

Alex Mason, “Broken Bottles”

Artist: Alex Mason
Hometown: Toronto, Ontario, Canada
Song: “Broken Bottles”

In Their Words: “‘Broken Bottles’ is a song about how when memories form, especially when we’re younger, they can take on an almost mythical quality in our imaginations and dreams. Then as we grow older and that spell of innocence is broken, we leave them behind, only to return to them again later when they likely don’t resemble anything like what they originally looked like. After losing my mom, writing songs became a way to preserve memories, even painful ones from when I was a kid. Sometimes even difficult memories can sweeten and soften with time. I was exploring a lot of open tunings with this new album, and felt a bit like Dylan on Blood On The Tracks – something about playing in open D on this Martin opened up a new space and new ideas for me and reminded me of being a teenager exploring the same tunings. It’s funny how things make their way back around.” – Alex Mason

Video Credit: Bradley Pearson, Don River Music

Bob Sumner, “Motel Room”

Artist: Bob Sumner
Hometown: Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada
Song: “Motel Room”
Album: Some Place to Rest Easy
Release Date: September 6, 2024
Label: Fluff and Gravy Records

In Their Words: “There is a rapper/DJ named Channel Tres. Everything Channel does is cool. He drips cool. I’m a big fan of his music, his aesthetic, and his videos. He has a video for a tune called ‘Weedman.’ It’s Channel and his homies hanging out in a home ordering weed from their dealer. Throughout the video they break into dance routines. It’s chill af. It’s funny. It’s joyous. It doesn’t take itself too seriously. I wanted that for ‘Motel Room.’

“I wrangled two of my close friends, Logan Wolff & Matty Beans. I knew they’d be down. My partner Mica Kayde choreographed a dance routine for us. With my director Dana Bontempo and his partner Zara, we loaded into my pickup truck, brought Endo my tripod dog (and best friend), and spent three days on a road trip messing around. We danced in front of a motel called El Rancho in the interior of B.C. We went to the Armstrong Fair & Rodeo. We laughed a lot, mostly at ourselves, and we had the time of our lives doing it. It’s no Channel Tres, but I think we did what we set out to do. The video turned out to be a joy. It’s fun. It’s funny. It encapsulates those magical carefree years I spent with my friend. At the end of the video the character ends up alone in a motel room wantonly gazing out the window. We felt that was a part of the story we couldn’t leave out.” – Bob Sumner

Derek Vanderhorst, “Be Kind” (featuring Steve Poltz)

Artist: Derek Vanderhorst
Hometown: Golden, Colorado but moving to Nice, France in September
Song: “Be Kind”
Album: Be Kind
Release Date: July 12, 2024

In Their Words: “I wrote ‘Be Kind’ in a fun, humorous way to address serious issues that are dividing friends and family and loved ones. Racism and intolerance are making their way into our everyday experience and becoming somewhat normalized. The divisiveness is becoming so overwhelming that it’s now hard to have these serious conversations and I wanted to send the simple message of acceptance, love, and kindness – as well as [pointing out] differences are what makes life so great and worth living.

“As Gen Xers, we need to be open, aware, and embrace all the progress and change, not forgetting our generation’s great changes. We sometimes need to remember that we need change to have stagnant waters.” – Derek Vanderhorst

Track Credits:
Derek Vanderhorst – Music, lyrics, guitar, vocals
Steve Poltz – Vocals, guitar
John Mailander – Fiddle, mandolin
Frank Evans – Banjo
Brook Sutton – Bass
Jamie Dick – Percussion

The Doohickeys, “Rein It In Cowboy”

Artist: The Doohickeys
Hometown: Los Angeles, California
Song: “Rein It In Cowboy”
Album: All Hat No Cattle
Release Date: January 24, 2025
Label: Forty Below Records

In Their Words: “We wrote ‘Rein It In Cowboy’ after Haley got her butt grabbed in a bar… He copped a feel and we copped a song. The unsettling vibe you get from a creepy guy groping you is eerily similar to the feeling zombies evoke, which is why our video draws inspiration from our love of classic zombie films like Night of the Living Dead and Dawn of the Dead. We had a blast coming up with t-shirt pick-up lines and other visual jokes throughout the video. With the help of our friends, we crafted a visual narrative we’re truly proud of and can stand behind (and grab).” – Jack Hackett, The Doohickeys

More here.

Steven Moore & Jed Clark, “New Camptown Races”

Artist: Steven Moore & Jed Clark
Hometown: Jed Clark lives in Nashville, Tennessee, originally from Searcy, Arkansas; Steven Moore lives in Saint Clairsville, Ohio, originally from Bethesda, Ohio.
Song: “New Camptown Races” (by Frank Wakefield)
Release Date: June 26, 2024

In Their Words: “We are very excited to share our music video of ‘New Camptown Races,’ a tune by the late Frank Wakefield (June 26, 1934 – April 26, 2024) that has become a bluegrass standard. The idea for this video began at SPBGMA 2023, when we jammed to ‘New Camptown Races’ with both of us playing it in B-flat without using capos. We laughed and agreed that we needed to record it and maybe do a video shoot of it someday. It wasn’t until a year later at SPBGMA 2024, when we met up again, that we really solidified plans to make the video happen. Our hopes were to record the video and put it out on June 26, 2024 in honor of Frank’s 90th birthday. Unfortunately, the world lost Frank two months before he turned 90, but we decided to still aim to put out the video on what would have been Frank’s 90th birthday, in his memory…” – Steven Moore

More here.

Photo Credit: Rose Cousins by Lindsay Duncan; Reckless Kelly by Cassy Weyandt.

Out Now: Great Aunt

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Great Aunt is an Australian folk duo composed of Megan Bird and Chelsea Allen. For a small outfit, they showcase a wide array of instruments – including mandolin, resonator guitar, acoustic guitar, double bass, percussive instruments, and vocals – with detailed harmonic arrangements.

Their music is groovy, with a foot-stomping feel as the base underlying relatable lyrics and stories, primarily drawing from Appalachian folk, bluegrass, and gospel music. Great Aunt is a duo with an impressive log of tours, festival shows, and releases that they’ve independently managed. Their most recent single, “What’s A Girl To Do Now,” covers issues around body image, identity, gender, safety, and equality.

We are eagerly awaiting the release of their debut full-length album, It’s All Downhill From Here, expected later this year. In the meantime, we are honored to highlight this incredible duo from all the way down in Australia, Great Aunt.

You just released “What’s A Girl To Do Now?” This powerful song addresses the struggles that women face around being “woman enough” – body image, identity, and more. Could you share more about the inspiration and meaning behind this song?

We started writing it when a lot of awful things were happening to women in our parliament that no man was ever held accountable for. We then spent a lot of time reflecting from our own place of privilege, as we watched First Nations women dying in [state] custody and the trans community being politicized and targeted by extreme acts of violence. We wanted to acknowledge how discrimination and acts of violence against women further intensifies at the intersections of race and gender. There’s a lot of work to do to support each other and fight for equity, where everyone feels safe, included, and as valued as any other woman. Space is infinite, there’s a place for all of us, except TERFs maybe.

You’re planning to release your debut full-length album, It’s All Downhill From Here, later this year. What has that process been like for you? What might listeners expect to hear from this much-anticipated release?

A diverse range of folk songs and a lot of personal stories to tell. We’ve been recording and mixing it ourselves with a vision to have some common themes throughout the album. Our main goal is to remain honest and sincere, and to try and translate that into the album.

As independent artists, what has the process been like for you to secure so many festival placements and shows? How do you balance the creative side of being artists with the business needs to book shows, attend conferences, and promote your music? 

We are fiercely independent! The balance is often skewed towards the business side of things with the amount of touring we’ve accomplished in the last 12 months, including three U.S. tours. The admin feels never ending, to say the least, but we both divide and conquer with festival applications, booking tours, and the PR side of things. We even do our own artwork!

Now that we’ve put in the effort, we’re starting to get invited to festivals and events around the world, which is really exciting. This year we’re balancing it in favor of writing and recording, while we start booking our next U.S. tour for 2025!

What’s your ideal vision for your future?

In the short sighted future – to continue touring the U.S., Australia, and abroad.

More importantly, we want to continue to embrace and help grow this music community so we can all thrive. We know that without the help of this community we really wouldn’t have had the incredible experiences we’ve had, so we will continue to pay it forward however we can.

What is your greatest fear?

We fear for all of us. That things don’t get better and we never find our way as humans. The feeling of being unable to make an impact or calling for change and it falls on deaf ears, is the crossroads a lot of us have been at for a while now. We see this as key as western countries enter the next round of elections.

What is your current state of mind?

Burnout and worry, yet still optimistic? Right now we make sure we find pockets of joy, away from our devices and the news.

What would a “perfect day” look like for you?

Starting off with a big pot of coffee… or two. Then sitting in our pajamas together, in our home studio, writing and recording music throughout the day, maybe sneak in a video game or two. Then we head to a show. It doesn’t matter if we or someone else we admire is on the stage, but it’s a room full of friends and heartfelt stories.

Why do you create music? What’s more satisfying to you, the process or the outcome?

It’s a form of communication and expression that is a part of both of us. Creating or writing music is a constant process of growth and exploration. When we “finish” writing a song, record it down, and release it, it still continues to grow and evolve as we perform it.

Do you create music primarily for yourself or for others?

Our songs start from personal experience, a reflection of something from our lives. While we don’t write music with an audience, we do hope that someone out there listening to it feels less alone, and can hold onto that connection.

What’s the best advice you’ve ever gotten?

That a career in music is a long journey.

Who are your favorite LGBTQ+ artists and bands?

Some of the best music out there right now is queer music, and the list is forever growing. Adeem the Artist, Jessye DeSilva, Wiley Gaby, Crys Matthews, Brittany Ann Tranbaugh, Julie Nolen, and the beacon of light that is Allison Russell! Oh my!

We also adore Flamy Grant, Karen & the Sorrows, Amythyst Kiah, Jake Blount, and some local Australian favs are Charlotte Le Lievre, Little Wise, the Double Dole String Band, Kerryn Fields, Hana and Jessie-Lee’s Bad Habits, This Way North, and the Tuck Shop Ladies.

For anyone reading this who might not be out of the closet, were there any specific people, musicians, or resources that helped you find yourself as a queer individual?

I, [Megan], was lucky enough to attend this place called Rock’n’Roll High School in Melbourne. It was a place started by Stephanie Bourke, an icon in Australian music. She created a safe space for young women, non-binary, and queer folks to start bands and taught us how to navigate the industry. On reflection, I distinctly remember I felt safe to be myself and finally found a place of belonging, where my queerness or size wasn’t singled out as an issue to fix. It was a significant turning point for me, and it came at the perfect time.

I came out when I was a young teen, and was fighting to live every day. I had the support of my family, but was constantly abused at school and even the school itself told my parents I didn’t belong. It nearly had a devastating impact. Please. Hold on. Find a space that makes you feel alive. Find people and community that don’t question or challenge your identity, and let you just be, that is your family. If you haven’t found it yet, please don’t give up. When you do find these people, the feeling of liberation will overwhelm you with joy. Great Aunt loves you, we’re rooting for you.

What does it mean to you to be an LGBTQ+ musician?

Being a musician helped me process and get comfortable within my own skin when trying to understand my own identity. We’re queer women, our music is written from our perspective, and our songs are literal stories from our lives, so it’s inherently queer music. We don’t underestimate the importance of visibility and allyship. It’s critical for us that our music is a safe space for everyone.

What has it been like for you as Australian artists touring in the US?

As folk music has such deep seated roots within American culture, we are always humbled by the breadth of the music community in the U.S. and how welcoming and supportive they have been to us. We reflect on how lucky we are to be able to do this, and the listening rooms we’ve played that have been full to the brim with people we now call friends. There’s no music scene like it.

What are your release and touring plans for the next year?

There’ll be a couple of U.S. tours, that’s for sure. Once we have this album out, we’re already thinking about another release to follow shortly after, and really want to make the most of a slightly quieter tour schedule this year.

Photo courtesy of the artist.

Out Now is presented in partnership with our friends at Queerfest. Learn more about this Nashville-based queer-centered event and collective here.

Basic Folk: Steve Poltz

Posted on by Shelby Williamson

If you’re looking for recommendations for desserts, might I suggest asking folk music and comedy savant Steve Poltz? This man loves gluten and carb-heavy sweets. He also loves collaborations, camaraderie, creativity and using humor in music. It all began for Poltz – or Poltzy as his friends call him – in his birthplace of Halifax, Nova Scotia, making him an official Canadian. He spent his formative years in Palm Springs and Los Angeles where due to his stutter, allergies, and asthma, he learned to talk fast to get himself out of trouble. His sense of humor was cultivated in part by his funny parents as well as radio and television. He was particularly taken with The Smothers Brothers, Laugh-In, and the novelty songs he heard on Dr. Demento’s radio program, which solidified his own aspirations for being silly as hell in his own writing. Along the way, he picked up the guitar at six years old and it’s been by his side ever since.

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After he moved to San Diego to attend college in the ’80s, he formed the cow-punk band The Rugburns with Robert Driscoll. The group, which Steve has described as “really slow speed metal,” developed a cult following across the U.S. in the early ’90s. It was at that time when Poltz met Jewel, who was a struggling musician in the San Diego scene. The two dated (they remain friends to this day) and ended up co-writing one of the biggest songs of the ’90s with “You Were Meant For Me.” After a brush with a major label (thanks to all the Jewel stuff), he remained an independent artist who developed a reputation for a singular live performance experience.

In 2014, he actually had a stroke onstage, which temporarily caused him to lose his vision, his ability to read, and also gave him a new outlook on life. Also: post-stroke, he found a late-in-life obsession with the Grateful Dead. In 2016 he and his wife, Sharon, moved to Nashville, where he discovered that he actually does like the Nashville co-writing thing. He’s written songs with people like Molly Tuttle and Billy Strings. His friend Oliver Wood (The Wood Brothers) produced his most recent record, Stardust and Satellites. Here’s to Steve Poltz!

Photo Credit: Jeff Faisano

The Avett Brothers Go Lights-Out

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Over the nearly two-and-a-half decades since their debut, the Avett Brothers have constructed their own creative universe.

They’ve released 11 studio albums, earned a Grammy award (plus three more noms), and bounded around stages for countless tour dates and festivals the world over. May It Last, a documentary film about the influential North Carolina group, offered a glimpse at the band’s dynamic through big and small screens.

Scott has also been a working visual artist since before The Avett Brothers as a band even entered the public consciousness, earning a BFA in studio art from East Carolina University in 2000 and depicting Southern family life through paintings and sculptures that would go on to make moving exhibitions—all while he also created stunning album cover imagery (for his own band as well as the great Brandi Carlile) or provided the visuals for such epic music videos as “Head Full of Doubt / Road Full of Promise.”

Musical theater, too, has been touched by the Avetts: Their musical, Swept Away, will make its mark on Broadway this fall. But the band’s eleventh album, The Avett Brothers, feels less like a charge into new creative territory and more like a reflection on the other things that have sustained them over the years.

“There’s certainly an unsettling feeling in that shadowy twenties and thirties where you get trapped into thinking that you are what you make,” Scott told Holler Country last year. “I’m settling into a season of life where I’m welcoming the reality that I am because I am, not I am because I do.”

That realization gets top billing on The Avett Brothers. Classic ballad “2020 Regret” sounds so quintessentially Avetts that it could have easily appeared just about anywhere in their catalog, if not for the veiled references to the year. It, too, embraces the idea that a life without regrets is less about what you do than it is about the people you do it alongside.

“Life cannot be written,” read the lyrics on album standout “Never Apart.” “It can only be lived.” The song muses on a long-term relationship; it’s presumably a romantic one, but would it be so crazy to listen to it through the lens of the band and its legacy?

Most bands don’t wait twenty-plus years into their trajectory to release a self-titled album — in large part because a lot of them simply don’t last that long. It’s a banner accomplishment to forge a musical path that sustains itself in any capacity for multiple decades; it’s entirely another to push forward with nearly the exact same cast of characters you started with, still collaborating and creating with the same heart and satisfaction as before.

“It’s trust. It’s a trust that’s built in,” explained Seth to NPR last month when asked about the secret to the band’s longevity. “My trust in that Scott has my best interests in mind is something that it would never occur to me to question.” He may be referring specifically to the lifelong brotherly bond he shares with the other Avett in the group, but certainly the larger band has formed a different kind of family.

Bob Crawford, who has been playing upright bass (among other instruments) with the band since 2001, took a year off to support his daughter’s battle with cancer and Avett fans followed and supported the journey at every turn. Cellist Joe Kwon, too, has an immovable fixture in the band since 2007; crowds go wild for him at every show. “We’ve been lucky and blessed to transform with each other,” added Scott, “to change with each other and watch this happening to us.”

“Cheap Coffee,” one of the album’s underrated masterpieces, makes great fodder for the idea of a group that constantly evolves and grows together. Producer Rick Rubin, who has been with the band since their major label debut, I and Love and You, apparently cut all the lights out and had them record the song entirely in the dark. The story holds up well for a song that engages so many senses: the distant smell of coffee, the feel of an outgrown apartment, the sound of a kid imagining the very highest number they possibly can. “Didn’t know how, didn’t know how good it was,” the group sings, lyrically balancing major milestones with the types of tiny details in a memory that feel insignificant at the time, but become the stuff of nostalgia decades on.

“We’ve always had this quasi-fatalist attitude, like oh, this might be the last time we ever do it,” joked Seth in an interview between their tenth and eleventh albums. “Now we’re really like, okay, we’re probably only gonna do this one more time.” In the interview, this line reads as a joke, but fans have speculated the same thing many times, too, cobbling together similar statements from the documentary film and various other interviews to try and guess how many more albums they might get.

Regardless of the band’s plans for the future, this eleventh album embraces plenty that fans love about the past. “For the Love of a Girl” is the jump-around number you can’t wait to hear live. And “Country Kid” offers an ambling glimpse at a rural North Carolina upbringing, with a heavy twang and plenty of backwoods imagery to match.

Taken altogether, The Avett Brothers feels like a worthy prize for the five-year wait between releases. “We’re not in the same hurry we used to be,” Scott explains. “Our home lives are super busy. We’re teaching kids things.”

In a way, maybe the greater message of The Avett Brothers is that the work will always be there — the opportunity to create, to explore, to have some kind of output. So maybe it’s really not so surprising that the band would wait to release an eponymous album so many years into their career, or that they might take five years since their last full-length to release it, or that they might not make promises about the future. As their influence has grown, so have the demands for their time and the expectations around what they make — not just how much of it there should be, but what it should sound like and how it should reflect the world around them.

What a beautiful thing to ignore those voices, to be enlightened by the past without being imprisoned by it; to turn off all the lights and sing in the dark.

(Editor’s Note: Read more about our selection of the Avett Brothers as Artist of the Month, explore their discography, and check out our Essentials Playlist here.)

Photo Credit: Crackerfarm

Two Women on the Cutting Edge of Bluegrass’s Future

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

At whatever level you may be plugged into the online bluegrass scene, you have surely heard, seen, or scrolled into content by Bronwyn Keith-Hynes and Brenna MacMillan. These two young, talented pickers are part of a vibrant and blossoming community of traditional musicians and folk artists that includes folks like Cristina Vane, Victor Furtado, Hilary Klug, Wyatt Ellis, and many more.

What makes these creators stand apart, especially Keith-Hynes and MacMillan, is that they aren’t just shoehorning social media into their art-making and creative processes to move up Music City ladders and check abstract music industry boxes. Instead, they’ve intentionally demonstrated how powerful, engaging, and charming content can be when it’s made with art, creativity, tradition, and joyful, cooperative generation as its focal points. Instead of bending over backward to construct virality and lean into transient socials trends, they let their talent, their songs, and their communities do all the talking.

In May, Keith-Hynes released her second solo album, I Built a World, her first project to center songs and her recently-developed, impressive vocals. Drawing on musicians and pickers from her immediate circle and her main gig – Molly Tuttle & Golden Highway – as well as tapping notable country stars and bluegrass legends, the project finds Keith-Hynes at her most confident and unbothered. This is a fiddler-singer-front woman who has found her voice – literally, through work, practice, and vocal lessons as well as figuratively, not satisfied to craft a career on bowing the fiddle alone.

@bronwynmusic Somehow Tonight [Earl Scruggs] SPBGMA stairwell jam!!! Our favorite acoustics for sweet harmonies 😇 🎻: Bronwyn Keith-Hynes 🪕: Brenna @Brenna MacMillan 🎸: Danielle Yother #spgbma #bluegrass #indoor #festival #nashville #harmonies #womeninmusic #banjo #guitar #fiddle #fridaynights #weekend #fyp #stairwellsinging #explore #foryou #bluegrasstiktok ♬ original sound – Bronwyn Keith-Hynes

Later this year, MacMillan will release her debut solo album. Its lead single, “What’s to Come,” features Ronnie McCoury and is indeed a harbinger for the superb album to follow. This project, which highlights MacMillan’s prolific songwriting and features her musical community fleshing out the band, is built directly upon the successes she, Keith-Hynes, and others have found on the internet. Eschewing labels, management, or traditional roll outs, MacMillan will release the project herself, with funds raised on GoFundMe, bringing the music directly to her consumers on her own website and socials channels without “middle men.”

So, not only are MacMillan and Keith-Hynes innovating on ideas around what it means to be a side person, a career picker, and multi-hyphenate, professional traditional musicians, they’re taking all of their expertise as online brands and businesswomen to find success for themselves, on their own terms. They’re focusing on what matters, centering their communities, and making incredible, superlative music at the same time.

BGS connected with MacMillan and Keith-Hynes together via video chat to talk about their unique approaches to making albums, content, and music, while highlighting the deep and tight-knit “bluegrass influencer” circle they’ve each helped create since moving to Nashville and putting their all into bluegrass.

I wanted to start by talking about community and musical community – one of the reasons why I wanted to have you both in conversation with each other is how you each rely on, draw from, and center your musical communities in what you create. It may look like these are solo projects that you’re making, but they’re clearly not solitary projects – and they don’t really feel like vanity projects, either. from the outside looking in either. It really feels you’re making music with other people so you can make music with other people. Could you talk about your work, your solo albums, and working in your communities?

Bronwyn Keith-Hynes: Yeah, I think first and foremost, me and Brenna are good friends and we just ended up being drawn together. We both moved to Nashville around the same time and ended up doing a lot of things together and had a lot of similar interests. That’s cool to find. I haven’t found that many women who have my same interests until I moved to Nashville and then all of a sudden I felt like there was a whole bunch. It’s been really awesome to find that.

First of all, I’m just such a fan of so many people, and I wouldn’t want to make music any other way. My project was based around songs from my community, which was really special to me. It was like a little nerve wracking reaching out to friends and people I respected to be like, “Do you have a song that you’re not going to record that I could record?” But, thankfully, a lot of people did – including Brenna – and I ended up recording one of her songs. And, she sang on it and it was awesome!

I feel like I couldn’t do it alone. I know my strengths and then I know other people’s strengths and I want to make sure we’re all [drawing on our strenghts]. I don’t know if singing is my strength, but it’s something I feel passionate about and feel driven to do for whatever reason. I know the things that I want to put out in the world; I want to make sure the music I’m making has the best parts of myself, but then the best parts of everyone else who’s playing on it.

I think that folks who aren’t just straight white men in this industry, we realize from the get-go that we have to have others with us. We have to do it together. Otherwise we’re not going to go the distance. I feel that in both of your music, as well. But Brenna, I wonder what that question brings up for you, as you’re thinking about and positioning your album to release as well?

Brenna MacMillan: It’s funny, because when Bronwyn asked about songs that I had, I had like a bunch and at that time I wasn’t even thinking about [making] an album at all. I think it was maybe like a couple months later that I decided, based on my friends that kept being like, “You should record some of these songs!” And I was like, “I guess…” I wasn’t thinking about it at all whatsoever.

Then that’s another way like to get my songwriting out there, too. And why wait for someone to come to me for songs if they don’t even know that there are songs? Besides my friends, which is who I first would want to do my songs anyway. It’s funny, because obviously it’s really cool putting out your own music, but I still get more excited when “Riddle” comes on than when “What’s to Come” comes on. [Laughs] That is so cool!

Someone else’s vision for your song, it’s like the coolest thing ever to me. Because, I know what my brain comes up with so it’s not shocking, but someone else’s ideas around something that you wrote – it’s like the coolest thing ever, and I guess that’s why I love the community. I feel like community is like the word that I say way too much, but I do I love it. For Bronwyn, Cristina [Vane], Hilary [Klug], Emily, and Mallory, to some extent back in 2018, we all were moving to town around that time and then 2020 hit and I think that’s when we all got a little closer, because we were all bored and wandering around. I took a lot of walks with my friends, individually, we tried to stay across the path from each other, but I think those bonding moments brought us closer. We were like, “Let’s get coffee” or “let’s get dinner,” and then we ended up making a video or something and it all evolved into great friendship, plus people online being like, “Oh, we like to hear you guys play together!”

@brennamacbanjo Friday night with Lester Flatt! #bluegrass #harmonies #sisters #womeninmusic #fyp #banjo #fiddle #musicians #foryou #friday #weekend #vibes #flatt #scruggs @bronwynkeithhynes @cvanemusic ♬ original sound – brennamacbanjo

One of the things I love most about that whole community of content creators – you’re talking about Cristina Vane and a lot of these other folks you create with here in Nashville – it never feels like you’re trying to shoehorn bluegrass into contemporary content creation. It really seems that making bluegrass music and making roots music with your friends is the impetus, and then you made it fit into social media – instead of vice versa. Like, it’s happened organically and from a community standpoint first, and not just from “I have a social strategy. I have a five year plan.” Do you agree or disagree?

BM: Oh yeah, I agree. There’s not much strategy that’s happened in here. There’s not a lot of that going on. [Laughs]

And yet, I can tell you objectively from the outside looking in, y’all are still operating with 110% more strategy in mind than most of bluegrass. [Laughs]

BKH: I feel like Brenna and I have both talked about – correct me if I’m not saying this right, Brenna – wanting social media to serve us, rather than for us to serve social media. The end goal, for at least for both of us, is not like to become a social media star, it’s to have it serve us, to get our names and our music out to more people.

BM: Yeah! And it felt like it was very random that social media took off for me. I was just like, “Where are you guys coming from? Why do you want to hear me kick off a J.D. Crowe song like every day?” But at the same time, it has its own frustrations and that’s when me – and I think a bunch of the other girls that do this side by side with their music careers – we’re like, “We’re going to have this, but only if it makes sense for helping promote our live gigs and any projects we’re doing.” But as soon as I get nasty comments, or this, or that I’m like, “Oh, I will literally just get off of this app if it’s going to go this direction.” I just block people and then keep going.

I want an audience who will appreciate the things that I want them to appreciate. I think that I’ve trained my audience, too. Basically I shoved it in there, “You are going to listen to this slow song and try to enjoy that. And if you don’t, then I’m going to take you [out of my following]…” Because there have been some people who think that I am a content creator on there, and I’m like, “No, I play music and I took an hour out of my day and posted this video and we’re lucky that happened. Now I’m on my way to a gig and I don’t need some [negative] comment.” But you could come to a live gig and request a song!

Brenna, one of the things I love about your upcoming album and the messaging around it is that you’re really doing  a direct-to-consumer business model and roll out. You’re being like, “Y’all can come to me. You already know how to find me, so this is where you can find the music, too.” I think it’s amazing and again, it’s the cutting edge of what the future of bluegrass will be while it’s also so fucking trad. It’s like back in the day, when bluegrass music required taking the car battery out of the car to play a show in the high school auditorium and then putting the battery back in to drive to the next high school auditorium.

It’s like you’re doing that in the 21st century. You’re being a DIY bluegrass musician, but in 2024. Can you talk a little bit about the direct to consumer model you’re using with your album roll out?

BM: I was like, I need to build a website so that there’s everything in one place – I remember why I did it, too, because there are a bunch of fake accounts. I knew I needed something out there to be authentic and to have all of my official links. That was literally my number one goal with the website. So now, here’s the link to my website, you can find my YouTube channel, my Facebook, my Instagram, my TikTok from there. And you’re going to know you’re in the right place. I’ve basically just started to try to push everything to my website and go from there to everything else, even if it’s taking you back to Instagram. Because [the website is] where everything’s going to happen, so that you know that it’s me instead of some person scamming you. I guess with that in mind, I started trying to link everything, like in my stories, when I’m talking about anything coming up, I just say, “Go to my website!”

Bronwyn, I wanted to ask you again about community and about bringing your circle, your scene into your album. I love all of the features on your album and I also love that it doesn’t just feel like you’re reaching for a Collaborative Recording of the Year nomination. 

[All laugh]

But I wanted to know how it felt to you, as you were thinking about who you wanted to have on the record and why you wanted to have them on the record?

BKH: I’m glad to hear you say that it feels like it’s in service of the music, because that was definitely my intent. It was the funnest part of [recording the album], for me. I did kind of make those decisions after the tracks were done and I’d done my vocals. I just didn’t know how it was going to turn out until I heard it. Then I would brainstorm with Brent [Truitt], and Jason [Carter], and whoever about who to get on it. Dudley Connell was somebody I was really excited about and I’d never met him. I didn’t know him. Someone just gave me his number, I called him up and left him a nervous voicemail. But yeah, he turned out to be the sweetest guy ever – and he’s a bluegrass hero, I love all those Johnson Mountain Boys records.

It’s crazy especially being a new singer, I haven’t heard my voice recorded much ever. Then to hear my voice with all these other voices that I know and I’ve heard a lot – to hear like that combination for the first time – it was like very surreal!

What was it like working with Dierks [Bentley]? We all know his bluegrass pedigree and his connections to the Station Inn and to the McCourys and that he’s always had one foot so solidly in bluegrass, but y’all would have gotten to know him and got to spend some time with him on the road with Molly Tuttle & Golden Highway, too. I wondered how how that conversation happened and also what it felt like to you to have someone who has gold records and platinum records collaborating with you on your record?

BKH: I grew with his Up On The Ridge album, it was literally one of the first bluegrass albums I heard around my college years.
I was obsessed with it and I thought it was so cool. It got me into listening to the more trad stuff, but I’d always loved his music and then being Jason [Carter’s] partner, and Jason and he were friends even before he was famous. So they’ve been friends from the get go.

I’d met him a few times through Jason and then again when we were on tour [opening for him], that was cool. ‘Cause I felt like we could meet [more as peers], not just because I’m somebody’s partner. But now, this is my gig and this is your gig. And you’re asking us to sit in every night. I felt a little bit more comfortable to make that ask. He just came into Brent’s studio one day and tracked it in under an hour. He’s great! Very quick.

Brenna, talk to me a little bit and if you have features on your upcoming album – and if you can’t talk about them yet, that’s totally fine.

BM: I know, I was trying to think of what I should say – I don’t know, I’m the one in charge! But let me check, I don’t know if Brenna wants to tell all that yet. [Laughs]

At the very least, we can talk about Ronnie [McCoury] and “What’s to Come.” Ronnie’s one of my favorites. Talk a bit about, again, bringing in community and bringing in the scene that already surrounds you.

BM: The core band in the studio was [Mike] Bub on bass and Jake Stargel on guitar. Me, I played banjo on four or five of the tracks, but I have been writing a lot on clawhammer lately and I know that I’m not good at it, so I had Frank Evans come in for those and then I had Cory [Walker] play on a couple very last minute. I was thinking, it’s just going to be better if he does it.

When the special guests ideas popped in my brain, I was thinking, “Do I want special guests to be like my friends, my age, or like people that I really are like heroes of mine? Is this the time to ask them? I don’t know.” Nobody knows who I am, but that’s okay. I had met Ronnie a handful of times in kind of settings where it was like, “I’m here with so and so” and I’m just a little curmudgeon. [Laughs]

“What’s to Come,” it’s like a reflective life song. I know that I sound like a small baby when I sing, and I was thinking of someone with an older sounding voice. Like wanting ancient, lonesome vibes so that there could be old and young together, pondering about life. If you’re young or if you’re old, you still ask all the same questions about life.

Also, [Ronnie’s] gritty mandolin playing. I love it so much. Jarrod Walker played on most of the core mandolin stuff, but he happened to be out of the country that session. I was like, this is perfect! But it’s funny, because I didn’t even know if Ronnie was going to bring his mandolin! [Laughs]

To wrap up, here’s a question I had for both of you, because you’re both musical shape shifters. You move in and out of musical contexts so easily; you’re both side people, you’re both front people, you’re both social media brands. How do you maintain your senses of self?

BKH: I feel like I can’t get away from myself! I don’t feel like I ever even think about that. The only way I’ve struggled with that a little bit, or thought about that more, is doing the solo projects. That’s where I’m like, “Wow. OK. What would Bronwyn do next?” But I think I know what I like and I know what I want to do. I’m just like, “How am I going to do that? I need to figure that out.

BM: I think similarly, I don’t really think about it that much. I think I know what I like, too. And I know what I don’t like. From the get go, I’ve very much just been myself online. I come home from the lab job and do a video with dark circles [under my eyes] and grunge and smelling like hemp trash. That’s what I established from the beginning. So now, I feel comfortable being myself.

Pretty much everything has been my own ideas and, it’s funny, because ten of my eleven songs are originals on the album, three of which are co writes, but hearing it come to life in the studio with other people, it still ended up being what I thought it should be. Which is weird, because there’s no way that I could bring some of these musicians into the studio who are eons beyond what I could imagine, but they knew exactly what the track needed. It does sound like me still and what my vision would have been if I had expressed it [all myself].

BKH: I feel like I’m like more myself these days than I’ve ever been. I feel like for a while, starting out in bluegrass, I had a lot of ideas of what a woman in bluegrass needed to look like, or be, or act like. In the last couple years, maybe inspired by being with Molly in Golden Highway, I feel like I’ve been able to let a lot of that stuff go – about how I should dress and whatever. Now, I embrace the things I actually like.

Photo Credit: Brenna MacMillan by Sophie Clark; Bronwyn Keith-Hynes by Alexa King Stone.