Artist:Ida Mae Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee Song: “Break the Shadows” Album:Raining for You EP Release Date: November 20, 2020 Label: Thirty Tigers / Vow Road Records
In Their Words: “This was one of the last songs we recorded for our new album as the pandemic put an end to our touring. We played our last show in Texas, round the corner from the Alamo, and flew straight back to Nashville and into quarantine. Our plans to record the next record had been ruined so whilst in lockdown we decided to wire the whole house into a remote recording studio with the analogue equipment we’ve been collecting over the years of touring and got to work. This song was inspired by the Stephen Collins Foster song ‘Hard Times’ written in 1854 … it’s an old song that was hugely popular and has been parodied for over 150 years… it felt an appropriate moment in history to use it as inspiration again. It’s the first song I wrote and recorded with my steel-bodied National Resophonic Style 0 resonator guitar, a very special instrument.” — Chris Turpin, Ida Mae
To hear Mipso perform, it’s hard to believe that Libby Rodenbough, Joseph Terell, Jacob Sharp, and Wood Robinson didn’t originally get together with the intention of digging into bluegrass history or starting a band. But as the self-described “indie kids” played around with vocal harmonies and playful strings as students at UNC Chapel Hill, the traditional sounds of their native North Carolina beckoned.
“I had a need for exploring my own roots — the places I’m from and the traditions that come from North Carolina and the Piedmont specifically,” Terrell, who plays the guitar, tells BGS. “There’s a lot of depth to the music that’s been made around here, and because a lot of those folks are still making music around here, it’s still passed down in neighborhoods, at jam sessions and orally.”
As Mipso’s audience grew, its sound evolved, integrating elements of pop with traditional strings and vocal harmonies, and the foursome reckoned with more than just chords and lyrics.
“I was trying to make sense of North Carolina and being a more long-term North Carolinian — not just by birth, but by choice,” says fiddle player Rodenbough, of the early days. “There was so much context and story behind this traditional music. Every song, even if it was a modern creation, had little threads that tied it back to words that had been sung for decades or hundreds of years. It just felt like… well, in a nice way, a bottomless pit. Or, what’s a nice way to say that?”
“A well! An inexhaustible well,” offers Terrell with a laugh. And they’re still drinking from it: Last month, the group issued their fifth full-length album, a self-titled effort that embraced the band’s quirks and their past experiences.
“We’ve been living together so closely for the last eight years, and for better or for worse, we’re us now,” says Terrell. “We had phases of the band where we thought, ‘Oh, we’re supposed to be this, we need to make a song this way.’ This record, it was like, ‘Fuck it, this is how we make music.’ We like it, and we’re weird if we’re weird, and if we’re not, we’re not, but this is how we go about it. Here’s Mipso.”
BGS: Plenty of songs on this album feel like they were born from one person’s memory or experience; “Let a Little Light In,” for example, has specific lyrics about childhood. How do you bring a song from one person’s brain or notebook to the band as a whole?
Joseph Terrell: The lyrics and the melodies are certainly an important part of what makes a song, but I think when we talk about combining our voices, we’re talking about making a presentation of a song that makes an emotional impact when people hear it. “Let a Little Light In” is a great example of a song that really transformed in the studio. The lyrics mostly came from me, but Libby and Jacob and Wood had more to do than I did with building this cool, playful soundscape of dancey noises to make up a kind of funhouse mirror of childhood weirdness.
Libby Rodenbough: A lot of the songs are lyrically one person’s, or maybe two people’s, work. But we talk about the meaning of songs when we talk about the arrangements because the delivery of it has so much to do with the emotional meaning. There’ve been songs before that we’ve vetoed or decided to leave off a record because they felt too specific to one person — the rest of the band was going to feel like a backing band. Part of our standard for what makes a Mipso song is that we all have to find an in-road somewhere, something we can sink our teeth into.
You see a lot of bands packing up and moving to places like Nashville or LA, but you’ve held tight to the community where you came up in North Carolina. What makes it such a special place for you, as people and as musicians?
Terrell: For me, North Carolina is where the music comes from, and Nashville or Los Angeles is where the business comes from. In as many ways as possible, trying to keep and hearth and home on the music side of that equation is going to be really healthier in the long run.
Rodenbough: I would say, too, that there’s a part of it that’s arbitrary: Because I was born here and went to school here, and because I believe that there are benefits that you can only reap after a certain amount of time spent in one place, this is the place where I still am. It could have been somewhere else. But it’s North Carolina, because I’m a North Carolinian. This is it.
Terrell: There’s a part of you, a Libby-ness, that’s because you’re from this place. It gets a little bit vague and spiritual on some level to justify it, but I do feel that that’s true somehow.
Rodenbough: We formed the type of connection to a place that we have here by having been born here and having come of age here — by having returned here from every tour for seven or eight years. I have a more intergenerational community of people in my life. I’ve known people when they’ve had babies, and I know their kids now. I’ve met their parents and grandparents. You just can’t really rush that process.
Terrell: I had dinner on the porch with my grandparents three weeks ago — they’re 92 and 94 — and my grandma gave me a CD of my great-grandmother telling stories. It was recorded in 1985. So I’ve just been driving around in my car listening to this CD, and it’s about all these places that I still go. I feel a spiritual connection here that I can’t exactly explain. Yet I would hate to think that this answer could be spun in a way that means, “If you weren’t born in a place, you’re not valuable to that place,” because certainly the reason I love Durham is because of the immigrant community. There’s lots of ways of being from a place.
One song that feels especially prescient on the new album is “Shelter.” I think a lot of people can relate to the idea of seeking out a place to be safe and accepted. What do those lyrics mean to you?
Terrell: That song came from Wood, primarily. He had this great melody that reminded us of a British Isles folk melody. Some of his family in Robeson County in Eastern North Carolina had been really impacted by one of the bad hurricanes, and he had the idea of telling that as a snippet of a story. But instead of making this about one very specific scenario where you’d need shelter, you have four different scenes that land on the same phrase or message — kind of in the tradition of country songwriting. Whether you’re a kid, an immigrant, a person facing natural disasters because of global warming, or the richest person in New York City going up into some big tower, this is a human need for shelter. We all need it, and therefore, we should all think of ourselves as tied together.
Rodenbough: And I think that a lot of the strife — to put it really lightly — happening in the country right now comes from an anxiety about lacking shelter, lacking a feeling of safety. That applies to people who are very clearly lacking in physical shelter as well as people who seem to be lacking for nothing. Our country has failed to provide that for people from every walk of life for a long time now, and so I think that’s one of the reasons that it’s unfortunately especially relatable right now. We all feel untethered. We all feel like we don’t really have a home.
Mipso’s sound developed in part thanks to in-person communities at places like festivals and neighborhood jams. Do you feel like there’s a way to emulate that in online communities?
Rodenbough: For so many subcultures, the internet has given people the gift of knowing that others like them exist. It is very empowering, and in some cases, that’s a bad thing — there are a lot of internet subcultures that we wish probably didn’t have that vehicle. But, for better or for worse, it makes something that probably felt very geographically disparate, and therefore disconnected, feel really strong and unified.
One example during COVID has been a Facebook group called Quarantine Happy Hour: They do a concert every night, or even a couple of concerts every night, and I’ve watched more bluegrass and old time music since [joining] than I did probably in the couple of years prior. It’s like a who’s-who, especially of contemporary old-time players, with bluegrass too. Every concert, no matter how well-known the performers are, has a couple of hundred people, and folks are tipping like crazy. And it’s interesting that it took a pandemic to make that happen, because we could have done that all along.
Even before the pandemic, though, Mipso was really harnessing the power of the internet to reach new fans — even listeners who maybe never considered themselves fans of traditional music.
Terrell: I think we’re probably more like a gateway drug into bluegrass than a haven for diehard fans. We have played a good number of bluegrass festivals and traditional-oriented-type venues, but I think we’re on the fringe of what they consider to be part of that world. If people find our music and like it, they might say, “Wait… there’s something in this that’s leading me towards all these other artists.” But there’s certainly not, like, a big tag we’re putting on our foreheads to weed out bluegrass or non-bluegrass fans.
Are there any misconceptions you think people have about bluegrass or traditional music — things they really get wrong?
Terrell: I mean, I have two things. The first is the idea that it’s white music, which I think is a really pernicious and awful myth. So much of this, the only reason we’re doing this is because it came from slaves who were here, and it came from African American music.
Rodenbough: It’s one of the nastiest and almost most ridiculous perversions of the truth, that white supremacists have used this type of music as an example of anglo-cultural achievement.
Terrell: The other [misconception] is that it’s tame or like, “stripped down.” For me, the best way to understand bluegrass specifically is that it was rock ’n’ roll right before rock ’n’ roll. It was high-energy and rip-roaring — the banjo twanged right before the electric guitar. It was the head-banging music of its day. [Laughs]
Rodenbough: This was a wild music — bluegrass in particular was not an old folky hokey thing. The way that we divide up the genres of traditional music comes straight out of marketing. I think it can be useful to understand how one style of music informs another that came later chronologically or something, but it’s not necessary to draw hard lines between old time and bluegrass in order to love stringband music or to love fiddle-centric music. All the borders are so blurry, just like with everything in history and in our overlapping cultures. I think that’s so wonderful, and I wouldn’t want to try to clean it up. That would be missing what’s so special about not even traditional music, but vernacular music — music that non-professionals make in their lives, about their lives.
For the first time, we are so excited to bring to you the BGS Radio Hour in podcast form! Since 2017 the BGS Radio Hour has been a weekly recap of the wonderful music, new and old, that we’ve covered here on BGS. Check back in every Monday to kick your weeks off with the best of BGS via the BGS Radio Hour.
Highly awarded modern blues artist — and our current Artist of the Month — Shemekia Copeland brings us a new release, Uncivil War, offering us a number of topical songs with perspectives on gun violence, LGBTQ+ rights, and more.
Leyla McCalla (who you may know from folk supergroup Our Native Daughters) brings us a song from her new Smithsonian Folkways re-release, Vari-Colored Songs: a Tribute to Langston Hughes.
Madison Cunningham is back on BGS with a brand new EP, Wednesday, an interpretation of a handful of cover songs chosen by the California-based singer, songwriter, and guitarist.
Everyone’s favorite roots music brothers — that is, the Avett Brothers — are back with The Third Gleam, a follow up to the first and second Gleam EPs. Much like their earlier sounds, the new record is stripped down, with timely discussions of gun violence, mortality, and the human condition. Check out our conversation with Scott, Seth, and Bob Crawford.
Denver-based singer-songwriter Jeff Cramer brings us an edition of The Shed Sessions along with his band the Wooden Sound, and a wonderful tribute to the late, great John Prine.
Pop string band Mipso is just one of so many great North Carolina groups that we’re proud to feature this month in our Made in NC playlist for #NCMusicMonth!
Julian Taylor was the guest of honor on our most recent episode of Shout & Shine, a series that serves as a platform for Black, Brown, Indigenous, Asian, LGBTQ+, and disabled musicians, who are so often marginalized in genres to which they’ve constantly contributed.
Quintessential banjo legend Tony Trischka was featured this week with a new single from his 2021 release, Shall We Hope, that also features Irish singer Maura O’Connell.
“For our 2017 record Other Love Songs, we made the decision to record using only acoustic instruments and our voices with almost no additional production. That’s how we’d been playing live up until that point and we wanted to capture the sound we’d been working on as an acoustic unit. Soon after we found ourselves stepping outside the acoustic box and experimenting with the overall sonic picture of what we were presenting live. Roscoe (Adam Roszkiewicz) and I began using more effects pedals and started playing through amps. Melody began playing percussion and after the addition of the pandeiro (a handheld Brazilian percussion instrument that can sound very much like a small drum kit), “Front Country music,” as we like to call it, began to evolve.
“As we began writing and arranging for the album that would become Impossible World, we made the decision not to put any limitations on production in the studio and found a producer (Dan Knobler) who could help us realize the sonic vision we were working on. This was basically a 180 from our previous record and it was very exciting! However, when any band takes a big leap forward musically, I often wonder what were some of the musical influences that helped inspire this transformation. So here is a collection of music each of us was listening to during the process and how these tracks helped inspire what we all brought to this record. For anyone who’s been following us for a while or maybe had a different impression of the band before hearing this new music this will help answer the question: ‘How did they get there!?'” — Jacob Groopman, Front Country
Brandi Carlile – “The Joke”
One of the most undeniably heartrending songs of the last decade, this song encapsulates Carlile’s emotionally earnest yet epic songwriting style. The way she wears her heart on her sleeve and doesn’t mince words has really inspired me to try and cut to the core with my own songwriting in the past few years. — Melody
Peter Gabriel – “Sledgehammer”
This track actually came up several times while we were arranging the songs for the new album, for the neo-soul vibes, the approach to instrumental hooks and, you guessed it: counterpoint. — Adam
HAIM – “If I Could Change Your Mind”
This first album from HAIM is full of throwback ’80s pop perfection and super catchy songwriting. I think their approach to dense, multi-layered backing vocal parts really influenced the harmony arrangements I did for the poppier tunes on Impossible World. — Melody
King Crimson – “Three of a Perfect Pair”
Intertwining themes and counterpoint have always been a big part of the FroCo sound and that approach was directly influenced by King Crimson and this track in particular; also we covered it on our Mixtape EP in 2016. — Adam
Los Colognes – “Flying Apart”
I came across this album randomly right as we were about to start working on the music for Impossible World and fell in love with the ’80s-meets-modern vibe. The use of electric guitar on this track had direct influence on what I brought to the table for a few of the tracks on Impossible World, especially “Miracle.” — Jacob
Paul Simon – “She Moves On”
From Graceland‘s Brazilian-themed follow up album The Rhythm of the Saints, this track is smooth and spooky in its trance-inducing worship of the dark, sacred feminine. The verse vibe of the song “Mother Nature” was loosely inspired by this one. — Melody
Lau – “Toy Tigers”
Lau is a band from Scotland that has successfully melded electronic elements with Scottish folk music and the result is something truly mind-blowing. They have become one of my all-time favorite bands. — Jacob
Muna – “Never”
I was also listening to a lot of electro-pop and aside from Muna’s production being on point, the level of risk they take in the instrumental section of this track is excellent. — Adam
Tame Impala – “Yes I’m Changing”
Kind of an ironic title for the purpose of this article, but the Tame Impala album Currents from 2015 was a big influence on creating a big sonic landscape that still completely serves the song and doesn’t overshadow it. I’d like to think we achieved this on a few tracks on the record. — Jacob
Queen – “I Want To Break Free”
I grew up on Queen’s tight aesthetic and Freddie’s vocal virtuosity, and while this is may be their most compact pop track ever, it’s edited economy inspired our arrangement of our song, “Real Love Potion.” — Melody
Squarepusher – “Welcome to Europe”
Continuing with the counterpoint theme, I was listening to a ton of electronic music while we were making the new album and this track exemplifies how you can have multiple hooks supporting each other throughout a track. Also, I love big jumps between notes in my hooks and get a lot of inspiration from tracks like this. — Adam
Dawes – “Telescope”
After we recorded the first half of our record early in 2019 I found myself listening to the Dawes’ Passwords from 2018 a lot and particularly this track. I love how the song has this slow build and new musical elements are constantly introduced throughout to keep it moving forward. It could be something really tiny that has a big impact on how the song moves. — Jacob
Kenneth Pattengale and Joey Ryan from the Milk Carton Kids are back with another episode of their socially distant video show, Sad Songs Comedy Hour. In their 17th episode, they bring on Watchhouse’s Andrew Marlin and Emily Frantz for an insightful conversation about all things. From the election and life in isolation to creating in stressful times, these four provide some interesting food for thought. As the show name would infer, there’s the odd joke here and there, but the episode concludes with a beautiful collaboration on Watchhouse’s “Wildfire.”
The hosting duo says, “We FINALLY got our act together to sing with Emily and Andrew, and it was worth the wait. Great talk too, as they’re deep thinkers, generous players, incisive songwriters. Hope we didn’t ruin their ‘Wildfire’ tune. As always, please support NIVA — the National Independent Venue Association — because they’re supporting all of us.”
Like a beloved book or your favorite podcast, Sad Songs Comedy Hour will surely put a smile on your face and glow with warmth and familiarity. Check out the new episode, and hear their collaborative version of “Wildfire” below.
Editor’s Note: This post has been updated to include Mandolin Orange’s new band name, Watchhouse.
Back in March, the Avett Brothers — Scott and Seth Avett, along with bassist Bob Crawford — were scheduled to leave their homes in North Carolina and head out West, where their longtime producer, Rick Rubin, was waiting at his studio in Malibu. They were in a prolific place at the top of the year, and eager to keep up the momentum. They had just released Closer Than Together, their tenth studio album, in October 2019, and had written and recorded The Third Gleam, the latest chapter in a series of acoustic EPs. They had also written a ton of new material — enough for another album, by Scott’s estimation — and were all set to move forward with it when the coronavirus hit. Everything, including their flights to California, ground to a halt.
The only thing that’s gone according to plan for the Avetts in 2020 is The Third Gleam, and it’s weirdly fitting — fateful, even — that it’s a homecoming in many ways. The eight-song EP was ushered into a tumultuous time they never saw coming, one that’s forcing everyone to stay put, slow down, and count their blessings more fervently than usual. It’s a return to the sparse acoustic arrangements that the Avetts perfected in their early releases before they teamed up with Rubin in 2009 for their mainstream breakthrough, I And Love And You, which brought them into the rock arena.
The Second Gleam came out in 2008 just before I And Love And You changed their lives and their sound, and though they’ve never strayed from their bluegrass and folk framework, they haven’t returned to the simplicity of Scott and Seth working through ideas with only their guitars and each other for company to this degree in over a decade. (Crawford does join them on The Third Gleam; he wasn’t brought in for the first two.)
The Third Gleam was written long before the world abruptly changed, but it touches on themes that bubbled up from the tension and strife that’s shaped recent moments of violence, unrest, uncertainty, despair, and the embers of resilience, hope, and the pursuit of social justice that smolder in spite of all of the above. Gun violence (“I Should’ve Spent the Day With My Family”), facing the unknown with grace (“Victory”), considering mortality (“Prison to Heaven”), and the deep joys and struggles of the human condition (“The Fire”) are all explored here, in soft tones, plaintive strumming, and the meditative plucking of Scott’s banjo.
Each song is striking in its approachable yet profound sincerity, and this less-is-more approach is one they found to be particularly effective in this fractured time. These issues were on their minds before the coronavirus upended life as we know it, but the Avett Brothers find themselves finding new meaning on The Third Gleam back where they started: at home, in North Carolina, trying to make sense of the world with little more than two voices and two guitars in sharp relief. For Scott, it’s simple: “The smallness of the Gleam — that’s where its power is.”
BGS: When I think of the first two Gleams, some of the saddest songs you’ve ever written come to mind, like “If It’s the Beaches,” but also gems that became fan favorites, like “Murder in the City.” How do The Gleam, the Second Gleam and The Third Gleam stand out to you? What sets them apart from the rest of your work?
Scott Avett: If there was a heart or soul or spirit to everything we do, [The Gleams] orbit a bit closer to that. If there’s layers to an entity or a life, this is kind of at the pure center of it. I’m coming up with this theory for some reason right now with you. [Laughs] At the root of the songs, a lot of the songs on other releases, we have wrung them out — put them literally through the wringer — to see what they want to become, what they can become, what we’re trying to hear and get out of them. Are we challenging them or going too far with them? With these, we don’t ever take that journey. It’s much earlier in the inception of the life of the song that we stop meddling with them. There’s a little more to just be with them, which is at the root of things.
Seth Avett: The series itself sort of represents a simplification across many aspects of this whole thing. It represents the clearing out of many great things, many great tools, and many great advantages we have with our band and our resources, and our possibilities. It simplifies the process of collaboration, the process of artwork. It simplifies recording, mixing, mastering and everything else. Across the board, it’s just a process of simplification and reduction, to where the only real star is the lyrics. I think that we’re still attempting to make something that’s engaging, musically, but it’s no secret: what we put our time into is storytelling, writing words and then sharing them onstage. It’s always at the heart of our songs, and so the Gleam is presenting only the heart rather than the entire body in a way.
Bob Crawford: They’re Scott and Seth’s sketchbooks, really. If you knew these guys as well as I do — and I know a lot of people know them very well, because they put it all out there and they always have — but if you love a great painter’s paintings, and you become a connoisseur of that painter’s paintings, their sketchbooks are widely available nowadays, be it Rembrandt or Leonardo da Vinci. That’s how I look at the Gleams, stitched in with the fabric of all our work: they’re basically more broken down, raw thoughts that they guys have. They’ve always wanted these things to be quieter and less. This is the first one, I think, I’ve played on; normally it’s just Scott and Seth doing these. It’s just a chance for them to get quiet, be alone, and be brothers.
You’ve been very busy between Gleams. How has it been to return to this acoustic space after playing arena-ready roots-rock on Closer Than Together?
Seth Avett: What it does for me, personally, is it takes a new inventory of our trust, of our brotherhood — my trust for Scott and his trust for me — with no other real considerations. It’s wonderful to be reminded in such a genuine way, with such gravity, that we still trust each other completely, and we’re not moving forward based only on the efforts of others. We still have each other’s trust and care, and we still hold those things in the highest regard. It’s a funny thing: on the first two Gleams and on this one, when we go into the process of finding out what the songs are going to be, and we present them to each other, there’s very little discussion.
All these full-length records, whether one person wrote the whole song technically or not, the other one will have a certain amount of contribution to it. There’s a lot of weighing: “What does it mean?” “Can it be said better?” “Is this too much, is this too little?” We do consider them in a big way, and we consider the songs on the Gleams in a big way as well — but we hardly talk about it. It’s like, “Hey, here’s four songs that are feeling really good to me and things I want to say,” and the other brother says the same, and that’s it. We just do it. It’s cool.
Bob Crawford: These Gleams give them an opportunity to come together and work together a little more than they have in recent years. We’re coming full-circle because of the pandemic. Since the pandemic, they’ve been living very close together and spending more time together. They were always close as brothers and best friends, but closer, approximately, so they could get together. We were actually about to go to Malibu to record the week the pandemic hit, the week of the shutdown. Ultimately, we tried to do it all these different ways; it just didn’t work out, so it turned into them recording demos themselves, sending me the demos, and me recording the bass and sending them back.
Did any of these new songs pose a new challenge you hadn’t confronted in your songwriting before?
Scott Avett: What’s different about mine — and this is a change for Seth and I — we sort of switched places. Several years ago, I probably would’ve been the one that tended to be more rapid-fire, more erratic. I just chop it up with a lot of syllables and a lot of words. On this one, we switched. We were laughing about it. Seth’s songs have a lot of words and tell stories, they’re narrative, and then mine are very much personal and have a lot less words and a lot more space.
I always look at it that there’s only one character on the record, there’s one character in the story, and the two of us kind of make that character. We would do very different things on our own, probably. There’s a contrast to it, a gemini sort of approach to it I guess. [“I Should Have Spent the Day With My Family”] is a good example of what’s changed for us. It’s minor and subtle to anybody else, but it’s a change for us.
Seth Avett: If you look at The Third Gleam, it’s impossible not to compare and contrast between me and Scott — I know it is, I’m sure all of our fans do it — where the differences between the Seth and Scott songs have never been more laid bare, in terms of the difference of the vibe. Scott’s songs, they just have so much space and breadth in them. I don’t look at “Family” or “Fire” as songs that have a ton of breadth in them; they feel a bit more urgent.
The narratives have a bit more of an agenda. Whereas, “I Go to My Heart,” “Victory,” “Back into the Light,” they have quite a lot of breadth and space, and so I’m seeing a change in him. If we are writing the songs we’re meant to write, and we are giving reverence to our form, then the changes in us are the changes in the song. If you ask, “How have I seen his writing change?” I’m thinking about how he is growing and changing, as a man, as a father, as a brother. It’s all kind of wrapped in one.
The role of advocacy and activism in music has changed, even since you released Closer Than Together, and “Family” is a turning point for you especially, Seth. You mention your wife and child by name in a song about gun violence, and you’ve never done that before. How has it been to anchor the Gleam in this moment in that regard?
Seth Avett: I can’t say that there was a point where I said, “Okay, now I’m going to open the door and start writing these types of songs.” This sort of happened incrementally. A song like “Bang Bang,” there were multiple moments where I’d go to a hotel room, and I’d turn on the television, and it’s just one [show] after the next, from ridiculous garbage to the most eloquent sci-fi — but it’s always the leading man with the gun. It’s always presented with such power, and it’s just ridiculous. The idea of holding a gun to make someone powerful is absurd; it’s preposterous.
I had many moments like that, and then there were many shootings. “I Should Have Spent the Day with My Family” is an obvious, super-literal reaction; “We Americans,” that’s the first four years of a person’s life growing up as an American. I don’t know that there’s one moment where I gave myself permission, but there have been many moments that I consider wholly unavoidable in terms of taking that into the songwriting.
This has been a tumultuous time, so I was curious if you think there’s a connection between that and going back to the foundation with an acoustic EP. Do you find that it was an organic thing to take a step back and retract to that nucleus and get to the root of all things Avett with The Third Gleam, considering everything going on?
Bob Crawford: It’s definitely a time of reflection, and it does make you appreciate all we’ve done, because you don’t know when and how we’re going to do it again. … For me, “Victory” is the greatest song they ever wrote. We only win when we submit; we only find peace when we let go. How do we hold it all together in our hearts at the same time? How do we not lose our minds at that? How do we find true peace inside while there’s chaos flowing back and forth? I think, hopefully, the Avett Brothers can be part of the center of that. If you are the center of that, you’re not polarizing. You can’t alienate anybody. No matter what you know they believe, face to face is how we live the gospel, how we can make real change.
Artist:Stillhouse Junkies Hometown: Durango, Colorado Song: “Mountains of New Mexico” Album:Calamity
In Their Words: “‘Mountains of New Mexico’ is an old-school murder ballad about misunderstood victim vs. outlaw, but it’s also an ode to the great wildernesses of the American West and their ability, even in the Information Age, to humble us as they have since the beginning of time. And what better backdrop for this kind of tale than northern New Mexico’s Bisti Badlands, a sun-scarred, alien landscape of hoodoos, gullies, and maze-like washes. The August sun limited our video shoot schedule to early morning and sunset, and the light was nothing short of magical; the song’s windswept climax came to life in a way we had scarcely imagined. ‘Mountains of New Mexico’ is a reminder that trading one kind of trouble for another doesn’t always work in our favor.” — Cody Tinnin, Stillhouse Junkies
Artist:Jeff Cramer and The Wooden Sound (Emma Rose, Dylan McCarthy, Dave Pailet) Hometown: Denver, Colorado Song: “Aimless Love” (John Prine cover) Album:The Shed Sessions Release Date: November 20, 2020
In Their Words: “I dreamt up ‘the shed’ late last year — a backyard DIY project fueled by a desire to provide space and community within Colorado’s incredible songwriter scene — which, as luck would have it, I finished building at the end of February this year. During the pandemic, it has become my office and writing space, and it ultimately brought me to a vision for a video series of live-recorded new, old, and cover songs with my new band, The Wooden Sound. I’m excited to be releasing seven videos and tracks from the The Shed Sessions over the next two weeks, starting with a cover of John Prine’s ‘Aimless Love’ here.
“Aimless Love was my first John Prine record, and while it might not be amongst his most prominent, the title track especially has become one of my favorites. Maybe it was discovering it as a teenager — as a small fry kid in a Midwestern town — that caused me to feel a special closeness to it. John Prine was able to add a sense of warmth and humor to the messiest of human conditions and somehow make it personal to everyone (including me) in the process. I also vividly remember playing Aimless Love under the full moon in my backyard in Denver the moment we learned that he had passed. It felt appropriate to release this video as my little tribute to him.” — Jeff Cramer
Artist:Marc Scibilia Hometown: New York/Nashville Latest Album:Seed of Joy
Which artist has influenced you the most … and how?
I would say Paul Simon. His lyrics are so perfect. His music is so joyful. It’s complex to create, but so easy to listen to.
What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?
The first time I played my song “Summer Clothes” live after it was released as a single. There is a lyric that says, ‘They built a new casino and they called it Little Reno, but the blinking sign’s got a busted light says Welcome to eno…’ On a whim I paused on the word ‘eno’ and the whole crowd sang it. They got the joke. It’s a good feeling when you put a lot of time into a lyric and the audience gets exactly what you were trying to do.
What other art forms — literature, film, dance, painting, etc, — inform your music?
Film would be the most direct correlation. I can’t help when I watch a Terrence Malick movie to hear melodies and lyrics. He is such an amazing director. One of his latest films, A Hidden Life, really challenged me creatively while I was finishing the album. It really encompassed all that, in my view, art can be about. The human condition.
What’s the toughest time you ever had writing a song?
Some songs come really easy, a few hours and done. Others I have mulled over and rewritten over the course of a few years. Now having a daughter… most songs are hard to write, because there’s so much going on in our house. I need concentration to really get the best out that time.
What rituals do you have, either in the studio or before a show?
In the studio I have a pretty extensive day planner. I plot out my entire day, review my big goals in life and a few other points. I can easily blow a day on Instagram, which usually just leads to anxiety, jealousy, and a sad, lost feeling. So if I have a grid I can avoid that stuff.
On the national music scene, North Carolina sets itself apart by blending the heritage of traditional roots music with the innovation of modern indie and Americana sounds. The bluegrass canon of North Carolina encompasses pioneers like Charlie Poole and Earl Scruggs, as well as groundbreaking musicians like Elizabeth Cotten, Alice Gerrard, and Doc Watson. Today’s spectrum of talent spans from modern favorites such as Darin & Brooke Aldridge, Balsam Range, and Steep Canyon Rangers, and the progressive perspective of the Avett Brothers, Rhiannon Giddens, Mandolin Orange, Hiss Golden Messenger, Mipso, and many more.
One example of how the state is merging past with present is the recent opening of North Carolina’s only vinyl pressing plant — Citizen Vinyl in Asheville.
According to press materials, the building’s third floor played host to Asheville’s historic WWNC (“Wonderful Western North Carolina”) which was once considered the most popular radio station in the United States. In 1927, the station hosted live performances by Jimmie Rodgers and made his first recordings shortly before he went to Bristol, Tennessee. In 1939, the station featured the first ever live performance by Bill Monroe and the Bluegrass Boys during its Mountain Music Time segment. Citizen Vinyl expects to keep the live music tradition alive in this former newspaper building, too.
Here at BGS, we’ve been committed to North Carolina music from our launch, notably with our Merlefest Late Night Jams, which are always worth staying up for. And how much do we love the IBMA World of Bluegrass week in Raleigh? Looking back on our archive, we gathered these songs from the artists we’ve covered over the years — and looking ahead, you’ll see all-new interviews with the Avett Brothers and Mipso, examine the classic country stars with roots in North Carolina, and spotlight some rising talent with video performances at the state’s most scenic destinations.
In the meantime, you can discover more about the North Carolina music scene through their website and on Instagram at @comehearnc
Editor’s note: This content brought to you in part by our partners at Crossroads Label Group.
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