The BGS Podcast Network is proud to announce our first addition of a new (to us) show in 2026, bringing artist and singer-songwriter Joe Pug‘s hit podcast, The Working Songwriter, on board. Beginning January 9, the Working Songwriter will be distributed exclusively through BGS and available wherever you stream podcasts.
“After ten years and over three hundred episode of doing this podcast independently, we’ve decided to go pro!” Pug says. “[BGS] is the perfect home for our show. They focus on American roots music, but ultimately they celebrate any kind of songwriting as long as it’s of a very high quality. I think that’s pretty similar to the ethos of The Working Songwriter.”
Over a decade of work and hundreds of episodes, Pug has explored songwriting, music-making, artfulness, and creative practices with some of the most thoughtful and entrancing voices in Americana, country, roots music, and songwriting as a whole. Over the years, guests have included such luminaries as Jerry Douglas, Charlie Peacock, John Hiatt, ERNEST, Chuck Prophet, Kim Richey, Bonny Light Horseman, Hunter Hayes, Iris Dement, Del McCoury, Keb’ Mo’, Darrell Scott, and countless others. Alongside these songcraft heavy-hitters are just as many fresh discoveries, newcomers, and essential-yet-underrated voices in the space, too.
The overlap between our rootsy BGS purview and Pug’s roster of guests is vast and varied, illustrating how perfect a fit the show will be for the BGS Podcast Network. “With their network,” Pug continues, “we’re gonna be able to get guests that we’ve never had before. We’re gonna be able to produce more content and we’re gonna be able to lean into video quite a bit more. I’d like to thank Cindy Howes and Amy Reitnouer Jacobs for believing in our show and helping to shepherd it to the next level.”
“The Working Songwriter has set the standard for long-form interviews with our favorite songwriters in the roots music world and beyond,” responded Cindy Howes, director of the BGS Podcast Network. “Joe’s ability to open up his guests in relaxing conversations on the craft of writing is endlessly impressive. The fact that a podcast of this caliber that legitimizes the best working songwriters is joining our roster is an honor. We are beyond excited to work with Joe and his team on this wonderful show.”
The latest season of the Working Songwriter will premiere this Friday, January 9, with guest Evan Bartels. Bartels, a singer-songwriter, burst onto the national scene with his 2017 debut, The Devil, God & Me. He has toured with American Aquarium, The White Buffalo, and John Moreland; he records for MCA/Universal; and he’s performed at Mile of Music, Americanafest, and the C2C Festival. We’re looking forward to beginning this new era for The Working Songwriter with Joe Pug, Evan Bartels, and all of you, right here on BGS.
To celebrate the announcement and the upcoming season premiere, listeners can subscribe to the Working Songwriter wherever they listen to podcasts. While you do, revisit and enjoy all past episodes of The Working Songwriter – including these five of our favorite selections below, chosen from over 10 years of superlative work.
Remembering Todd Snider (March 2020, rereleased November 2025)
Joe originally sat down with The Bard of East Nashville back in March of 2020, but after his untimely passing in November 2025 at the age of 59, TWS reissued this beautiful episode in his honor.
Jerry Douglas (June 2025)
An artist who needs little introduction to BGS audiences, GRAMMY-award winner Jerry Douglas is considered the contemporary master of the Dobro. Joe talks to Jerry about his long and storied career, playing alongside everyone from Ray Charles to Billy Strings.
Ashe (September 2024)
TWS covers songwriters of all backgrounds and genres, as demonstrated in this 2024 episode with Ashe. The Berklee College of Music grad discusses her years writing songs for other artists such as Demi Lovato, only to find her own distinct voice (and a legion of obsessive fans, including the late Diane Keaton) in the last five years.
The Swell Season (October 2025)
The Oscar-winning and decades-spanning musical partnership of Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglová has captivated worldwide audiences, but this conversation with Joe from 2025 celebrated their first album together since 2009 (Forward), and showed their connection and chemistry was as deep as ever.
Bonny Light Horseman(February 2023)
Each member of the folk supergroup trio of Anaïs Mitchell (Hadestown), Eric D. Johnson (Fruit Bats), and Josh Kaufman (The National, Bob Weir, Josh Ritter) could easily deserve their own deep-dive episodes, but put together it’s clear that they are greater than the sum of their parts. Joe digs in with the three GRAMMY nominees to peek behind their magical music-making curtain.
Artist:The Naked Sun Hometown: Philadelphia, Pennsylvania Latest Album:Mirror in the Hallway (set for release January 30, 2026) Personal nicknames (or rejected band names): “Fully Clothed Moon”; “Naked! Son.”; “The Naked Sons”
(Editor’s Note: Responses provided by The Naked Sun guitarist and singer-songwriter Drew Harris.)
What was the first moment that you knew you wanted to be a musician?
I have a very vivid memory from when I was maybe four years old. My mom wasn’t home from work yet, so I was being watched at someone’s house – some kid I barely knew. I was only there once in my life, a strange one-off moment that almost feels like fate. They had one of those old Casio-style keyboards with preset drum loops and out of pure boredom I started messing with it.
To this day, I can remember the feeling of a sort of flow state and being sucked into the music I was making. It’s really that exact feeling that keeps me coming back to the profound play that is making music. Something clicked. When my mom came to pick me up, I didn’t want to let the keyboard go. Something in her must’ve recognized that spark, because not long after we were driving around to strangers’ houses looking for a used piano that we could afford. I started lessons soon after and kept at them for the next six or seven years.
Which elements of nature do you spend the most time with and how do they impact your work?
We all spend a lot of time in nature. Tom, Dylan, and I are pretty avid cyclists. We have some incredible trails in and around Philadelphia that we spend a lot of time riding. Tim’s a trail runner and very recently took up bow hunting. James loves hiking the Wissahickon.
For me, the place that shapes my writing the most is the Delaware Bay. I walk those beaches for hours – staring at the tide, the sky, the sand shifting beneath me. I started doing it out of boredom, stuck at the shore when everyone else was gone, needing some way to fill the time. (Turns out: boredom = creativity.)
One night I walked all the way toward the Cape May–Lewes Ferry and watched a storm crawl across the bay – lightning slowly getting closer. It was beautiful and terrifying and overwhelming. I think that was the first moment I felt truly connected to nature, and something inside me clicked open. I’ve been returning to that shoreline ever since.
I think the ever-changing shoreline informs my music in a deep way. The beach is never the same twice – shaped daily by tides, wind, and waves, scattered with shells, rocks, horseshoe crabs, footprints, and whatever people leave behind. Every sunset lands at a slightly different angle, filtered through a new cloud formation or dropping into a clear sky without interruption.
Change.
Like the shore, our lives are constantly shifting – subtle in some seasons, dramatic in others. Music is how I process that movement. It lets me catalog who I was and who I’m becoming. When change feels heavy or uncertain, music is the valve that releases that pressure. Because the music will always be there, I know I can change.
How often do you hide behind a character in a song or use “you” when it’s actually “me”?
This is a really interesting question, because I think that, at least in my music, every song is about me in some way, shape, or form. Even when I’m writing from someone else’s perspective, when I pull the thread it always comes back to me. Even if it’s years and years after I’ve written a song I’ll look again with a fresh set of eyes and be like, “I thought that was about my mother, but damn, that was really about me.”
I remember writing in a journal years ago that all of my songs are really just letters to myself. And how could they not be? Even when I think I’m writing about someone else, I usually circle back later and realize it was me the whole time. It’s not that I’m hiding behind “you” – it’s that sometimes I don’t yet recognize the reflection I’m writing from.
But I’m increasingly drawn to exploring the true “you” in a song. The songwriters I admire most are shapeshifters – they step into other lives completely, almost like actors. They embody characters, perspectives, flaws, desires. They can disappear into someone else and still reveal something human and true.
That kind of writing fascinates me. It’s difficult – maybe the hardest thing to do, honestly – but I feel like it’s where I’m headed next. If writing has been a mirror, maybe now it becomes a window too.
What is a genre, album, artist, musician, or song that you adore that would surprise people?
Most people don’t expect this, but my all-time favorite band is the Canadian punk group Propagandhi. I first heard them at 14 or 15, walking into a head shop on the Wildwood boardwalk. It was angrier, smarter, sharper than anything I’d heard – political, passionate, direct. Perfect for a rebellious Catholic school kid
I’ve been listening to Propagandhi since their very first record. I’ve even been up to Canada to see them play and met Chris, Todd, and Jord. This style of music is so different from the music I make. I tried, believe me, I tried to write fast punk-metal riffs, I just wasn’t very good at it. (Propagandhi shreds.) I found Bob Dylan at the right age, taught myself how to play guitar and harmonica at the same time, and adopted a more folky sound.
But I think Propagandhi and folk share a similar ethos: anti-corporate, pro-people. I like to think that I’ve combined the two genres at times in my own abstract and artistic way.
Since food and music go so well together, what is your dream pairing of a meal and a musician?
I love to cook and have spent time working in kitchens as a line chef, and I even taught cooking for several years, so cooking, food, and of course music are always paired together. I have a little tradition when I go down the shore in the summer; the first summer meal that I prepare, which is almost always shrimp, scallops, and Jersey corn, I turn on “Mississippi” by Bob Dylan off of The Bootleg Series, Vol. 8: Tell Tale Signs. I just absolutely love this version of this song and it transports me back to making meals at my Mom Mom’s house down the shore.
Sorry, Bob, but since this is a dream meal, my dream meal is with Bob’s friend, Tom. My dream meal would be picking blue crabs, sipping beers (and probably a couple joints), listening to music, and chatting with Tom Petty. Tom’s a southern guy, so I think he’d appreciate some blue crab, corn, shrimp, potatoes, and of course a joint or two.
We’d sit outside down at the Jersey Shore and I’d let Tom control the aux and just shoot the shit while we imbibed. A crab feast is always really long, too, so I’d get some extra time to spend with my hero. Not sure I’d ask Tom any specific questions, I’d just want to listen to his tunes and listen to him tell me why he chose them, what he liked about them, what they remind him of, etc., while we sweat out light beer and fill up on blue crab.
Roots music was everywhere this year. It’s time we decide once and for all: Is roots music enjoying a “moment”? Or are these genres and sonic stylings alwaysthis foundational to popular and mainstream music?
Maybe roots is just at the center of everything we do here at BGS, but we’re inclined to the latter option. Roots music, folk music, whatever you want to call it, these styles are at the root – pun intended – of everything we love, not just in our scenes and spaces, but what we love about pop music, radio hits, and the musical mainstream, too. It’s no wonder, then, that roots shows up in albums and offerings by Bad Bunny and Sabrina Carpenter. That roots music finds its way across the globe in the fight for justice. That banjos and fiddles and the blues and bluegrass can be seeds by which entire resplendent artistic universes can be birthed, whether festivals or films or documentaries or albums or songs.
For our final year-end retrospective list of 2025, we asked our BGS contributors to reflect on the roots music and moments that stuck with them over the course of this year. Instead of setting strict criteria for what qualified as “roots music,” we did just the opposite, leaving our year-end “best” prompt as loose, open, and broad as possible. The results reaffirm our central belief that roots music isn’t a niche, it’s everything. There’s no limit to what it can touch on, impact, and transform.
We look forward to continuing to celebrate all things roots music and roots culture with you in 2026. In the meantime, enjoy our BGS Class of 2025. Roots music below, bluegrass here, and Good Country here.
Bad Bunny, DeBÍ TiRAR MáS FOToS
Last year, the most mainstream and far-reaching roots album was most certainly Beyoncé’s Cowboy Carter. The project has amassed billions of streams and listens, millions of sales, and has been certified Platinum by RIAA. This year, the most prominent roots album has received little to none of the controversial discourse of “belonging” and genre and roots-adjacency that Cowboy Carter attracted. Bad Bunny’s 2025 masterpiece, DeBÍ TiRAR MáS FOToS, is perhaps a bit sneakier in its rootsiness – or, being that it was made by a Puertorriqueño and is delivered entirely in Spanish, perhaps the same sorts of racism that put Beyoncé under the crosshairs may have relieved Bad Bunny of such targeting.
DeBÍ TiRAR MáS FOToS is jaw-dropping in its artistic and sonic accomplishments. Reggaeton and pop, hip-hop and house are grounded and contextualized by roots music, which does incredible heavy artistic lifting across the album. Interludes and intros reference many of the Latin and Caribbean folk styles that would birth the genres Bad Bunny currently inhabits. Calls of endemic frogs are mentioned alongside varied sounds of the diaspora, gentrification decried while advocating for self-determination. The album successfully does the work of so many solely folk and/or roots projects, but given its mainstream appeal and A-lister creator, that fact seems to have been lost in the glitz, glamour, and Super Bowl Halftime Show of it all. Make no mistake, though, for all the things that it is, DeBÍ TiRAR MáS FOToS is obviously roots music. – Justin Hiltner
Carsie Blanton
Singer-songwriter Carsie Blanton gave the most fun performances I saw on folk stages this year. Whether solo in the round or with frequent collaborators Sean Trischka, Joe Plowman, and Isa Burke, a Carsie show feels like a block party. People pack in corners to see what she will cook up next: a saucy tale, a power pop-influenced anthem of revolution, a quiet moment that demands reverent attention. Blanton has a gift for translating history into sing-alongs without softening any of her political edges. It takes an expert vocalist and arranger to sing “I guess America’s coming untied/ Half of my neighbors are living outside” without the audience feeling gloomy or preached at.
It helps that Blanton embodies the kind of working-class swagger that only a bad bitch from New Jersey can pull off. An outspoken feminist and member of the Party for Socialism and Liberation, this past October she brought the revolutionary hope of her songs to Global Sumud Flotilla to Gaza, where she risked her life as a member of the humanitarian coalition. Blanton, along with many of her comrades, was detained when the Israeli military intercepted their boats. Her bandmates were waiting at the airport when she got home. – Lizzie No
Brooklyn Folk Festival
Celebrating its 17th year, the Brooklyn Folk Festival is the best of the independent roots music community incarnate. Each November, the festival brings together members of the New York folk music community with musicians from across the country (and sometimes the world) for one weekend of homegrown joy, hosted in the Saint Ann and the Holy Trinity Episcopal church in Brooklyn. Musicians swap instruments and stories and audiences pack church pews and sit cross-legged on the floor to listen, intently.
The festival fosters space both for old-timers and young musicians; each year students from the Jalopy Theatre and School of Music, which hosts the event, perform. This year, the mainstage audience waited patiently, giving grace to 91-year-old folk legend Alice Gerrard (of Hazel & Alice) as she remembered the lyrics to one of her songs. Friends, lovers, and children waltzed together to Black string band New Dangerfield. And when musician Nick Shoulders invoked folk music’s long history of protest and compared old-time music to public lands – dubbing both worthy and precious resources, which should be protected and preserved as free for all – the entire room cheered. Community uplift at its purist and sweetest. – Meredith Lawrence
Sabrina Carpenter’s Sneaky Roots
They say the Germans have a word for everything. Do you think there’s one for how good it feels when roots music sneaks into the pop mainstream? Maybe… Beyoncénfreude? There should be some term for it, because it’s a special kind of satisfaction, and this year the good vibes continued with Ms. Short n’ Sweet herself, Sabrina Carpenter.
The superstar had already shown a genuine appreciation for country when she teamed up with Dolly Parton on “Please, Please, Please” (even changing explicit lyrics to better suit the mild-mannered icon) and with the dreamy country-folk of “Slim Pickins.” But in 2025 two important things happened. 1) She made her Grand Ole Opry debut in October, beaming with pride and lavishing the institution with praise. “Please, Please, Please” and “Slim Pickins” were both part of her set. And, 2) “Man Child.” Beneath the disco pulse ran an undercurrent of country twang, with a rhinestoned electric guitar hook dripping in her signature campiness.
This alone would be a prime case of Beyoncénfreude, but the best part was how Carpenter felt no need to call attention to the matter. It wasn’t a play or statement. She just wanted some country in there and knew her fans would accept it. What that says about roots music and the mainstream is definitely a 2025 highlight. – Chris Parton
Neko Case, “Winchester Mansion of Sound”
The late great Flat Duo Jets guitarist Dexter Romweber, who died at a too-young 57 last year, was an inspirational figure to generations of artists, Neko Case among them. The Americana siren repaid that debt with a cameo on Dex Romweber Duo’s 2009 LP Ruins of Berlin, and goes one better with this eulogy from her latest album, Neon Grey Midnight Green. Over spectral tack piano plinking away, Case paints a picture of kindred spirits bound together by music:
I still think of you And your wild, recurve guitar Only you can play so far out of tune And still kick me in the heart.
By the end, shortly before the full band kicks in for the outro, Case concludes, “Only music is forever.” Perfect.
This has been just one of 2025’s Romweber afterlife artifacts, including posthumous induction into the North Carolina Music Hall of fame and depiction in the teen drama TV series, The Runarounds. But this one is the best of all. – David Menconi
Chatham Rabbits, Be Real With Me
Despite its general lamenting about growing older – something I can relate to all too well – I can’t get enough of husband-wife duo Chatham Rabbits on Be Real With Me. But instead of focusing on the aches, pains, and other changes that come with the passing of time, Sarah and Austin McCombie also reflect on the wisdom that accompanies it as well.
This manifests itself in missives like “Matador,” where Sarah sings about trusting people too fast and ignoring red flags along the way, and “Gas Money,” which touches on overcommitting to relationships with others before first looking after yourself. The duo also navigate everything from falling out with longtime companions (“Childhood Friends”) to wanting freedom while also having desires to build and nurture a family (“Collateral Damage”), painting an understandably complex web of stories in the process.
The result is a very millennial-leaning record that puts a positive spin on aging as a young adult and will leave any 20-something listening ready to do what Austin describes on the album’s lead track, “Facing 29” – “Grabbing 30 by the strap of its boots.” – Matt Wickstrom
Michael Daves, Early Morning Sun
2025 has been a bang-up year for new releases and one at the top of my list is Michael Daves’ five song EP, Early Morning Sun. Daves’ music is always inspiring, but this EP differs from his past releases. Unlike Orchids and Violence, which was a two-part album with one side being bluegrass covers and the other being electric covers of those same bluegrass songs, Early Morning Sun is just Daves and his guitar.
All recorded on a low-tuned Kay guitar in an old church in Brooklyn, the EP has a rough, thrashy bluegrass and somewhat country feel. It’s an album of covers that, if you live in Brooklyn, you’ve probably heard Michael play around town, especially at the Jalopy Theatre or in the old days at Rockwood Music Hall. What’s special about this EP is that you can really feel the energy of how it was recorded. The slight echo of the church compliments the songs in a unique way, bringing a lot of oomph to the songs both in his vocals and his guitar playing. – Emma Turoff
Flock of Dimes, The Life You Save
Feeling weighed down by life? Tired of propping up others who can’t (or won’t) get their act together? Friend, have I got a record for you.
Jenn Wasner has been telling survivors’ stories through exquisite, deeply textured music for two decades. Her third Flock of Dimes LP, The Life You Save, leans into the atmosphere of Wasner’s voice over instrumental theatrics. Its songs find her in the deeply wearying role of reluctant savior, trying her best to heal her little corner of the world – or at least herself. The album’s money shot is “Long After Midnight,” which sounds like it could be about anything – from trying to save a friend from a drug problem or a parent sliding into dementia. The video shows Wasner sitting on the floor singing as every piece of furniture behind her is removed, finally directing attention to herself near the end:
I live my life among the lucky ones When things are bad I never let them know When you come from where I come from There’s only so far you can go…
But if you try some time, you just might find, you get what you need. – David Menconi
Rhiannon Giddens & Justin Robinson, What Did the Blackbird Say to the Crow
Rhiannon Giddens reunites with former Carolina Chocolate Drops bandmate Justin Robinson for what is essentially a crash course in the music of North Carolina. What Did the Blackbird Say to the Crow contains 18 songs – a healthy mix of instrumentals and tracks with lyrics. The music comes alive in the pair’s very capable hands and invites the listener to take a 44-minute stroll through Appalachia and North Carolina’s Piedmont. Their late mentor, Piedmont musician Joe Thompson, taught them all he knew, which is quite evident on selections such as “Hook and Line,” “Little Brown Jug,” and “Old Molly Hare.” Together, it’s like no time has passed between Giddens and Robinson, and they reach new heights in their work with some of the most propulsive and emotive string work of the year.
What Did the Blackbird Say to the Crow demonstrates that learning and growing never end. String work is best served when untethered to strict structures, but rather fluid and gently gliding, they evoke both a sense of whimsy and raw emotion. – Bee Delores
The History of Sound
I was in a cab going up the mountain to see Bugonia, and I was talking to another queer friend about The History of Sound. Specifically, about Josh O’Connor and Paul Mescal singing “Pretty Saro” and “Silver Dagger” to each other as a method of seduction. We talked about other versions of both songs – especially “Silver Dagger” – about how tender the song is in general, how O’Connor makes it softer, and about how his halting, half-good singing was effective in ways that, for example, Joan Baez wasn’t.
I thought a lot about the “Silver Dagger” scene, with a heat and a hunger, more than anything else in that film; a song which was too formalist to fully represent the erotic lives of the main characters. The movie made me sad and aroused, and what else can you ask for from a film? But it also made me worry about what songs we absorb from which traditions, and that the trading of these two famous songs as signifiers of a kind of melancholic, cock-blocked Appalachia only considers one kind of desire, one kind of hunger, and one kind of aesthetic. One marked by loss, and one which never completes except in death.
I wondered what it would mean, instead of “don’t sing love songs,” to sing every possible love song for every possible kind of love. In that too-short scene in the tent, Mescal and O’Connor sing to each other as a mode of seduction, but we get an incomplete song and an incomplete seduction. If we are listening to folk songs for their ardor, then the tradition must allow for all kinds of ardor – all kinds of desire. Sure, we have their version of “Pretty Saro” (the movie convinced me that nothing would be sexier than hearing that song post-coitally), but what about everything from “The Money Comes Rolling In” to “The Wanton Seed” to “The Two Magicians”? – Steacy Easton
I’m With Her, Wild and Clear and Blue
Right from the get-go, 2025 was a hard year. The Los Angeles wildfires ripped through homes and communities in January, displacing thousands of people, including many of my friends and music industry peers. Even for those of us whose homes were unscathed, everything suddenly felt untethered and dangerous, like it could disappear at any second.
For me, nothing captured that unnatural feeling quite like I’m With Her’s “Standing on the Fault Line.” “Is it when the reservoir runs out/ And the birds stop flying south/ Are we gonna know it’s time to flee?,” questions Sara Watkins. Many of us did have to flee, loading our cars with whatever we could grab; evacuating to anywhere that seemed remotely safer. But as climate change and economic and political upheaval continuously flip our world upside down, is anywhere really safe?
The rest of I’m With Her’s beautiful album, Wild and Clear and Blue, has been a soothing balm amidst these strange times. Each song captures a different aspect of womanhood, family, home, and the slipping of time – a testament to the shared songwriting duties of Aoife O’Donovan, Sara Watkins, and Sarah Jarosz. Their harmonies ring out like an old friend offering words of comfort on the other end of the line. – Amy Reitnouer Jacobs
Lilith Fair: Building a Mystery
One of the highlights of the late 1990s was Lilith Fair, a popular music festival co-founded by Sarah McLachlan and featuring the talent of such acts as Fiona Apple, Mary Chapin Carpenter, Sheryl Crow, Bonnie Raitt, and The Chicks over three years (1997-99). Director Ally Pankiw, known for I Used to Be Funny and two episodes of Black Mirror, pulls from a remarkable 600 hours of never-before-seen footage that cuts to the core of what Lilith Fair meant – and continues to mean – for women and female-identifying people. Interviews with Emmylou Harris, Brandi Carlile, and Jewel, among others, give new insight into the landmark festival and the tough-as-nails artists who stormed its stages.
Pankiw pulls back the curtain and offers the audience a peek into the blood, sweat, and tears that festival planners and the talent endured for the sake of the art and proving to the world that women artists were far more valuable than as tokens in a sea of men. Lilith Fair: Building a Mystery is raw, honest, and probing. For any casual music fan, it’s a must-watch of the year. – Bee Delores
Jess Sah Bi, Jesus-Christ Ne Deçoit Pas
Seven years ago, I worked on the reissue of Our Garden Needs Its Flowers (1985) by the West African country, folk, and afro-pop duo Jess Sah Bi & Peter One. Back in the 1980s, they were one of the most popular musical acts in Côte d’Ivoire (Ivory Coast), entertaining stadium-sized audiences at home, and later on, throughout Benin, Burkina Faso, and Togo.
When I first heard it, Jess Sah Bi & Peter One’s music was a revelation. In a sense, it offered a whole new lens through which to view country and folk music, while unlocking an entirely different set of African musical histories to learn from. Afterwards, Peter One scored a deal with Verve Records, culminating in his celebrated comeback album, Come Back to Me (2023).
Earlier this year, Awesome Tapes From Africa, the label that gave Our Garden Needs Its Flowers a second wind, reissued Jess Sah Bi’s rare early-1990s gospel, folk, and country solo album, Jesus-Christ Ne Deçoit Pas (Jesus Christ Does Not Disappoint). Written and recorded after recovering from a mystery illness and relocating from Côte d’Ivoire to the United States, the album’s seven songs, sung in French and Gouro, are soaring, transcendent, and undeniable. – Martyn Pepperell
Caroline Spence, Heart Go Wild
For me, 2025 has been typified by abject, all-encompassing grief. Singer-songwriter Caroline Spence’s past albums are certainly also heartfelt and lean towards tear-jerking and raw emotion-inhabiting, but Heart Go Wild feels particularly primed for a good, cathartic, therapeutic cry. Spence processes quite a few life and career changes within these songs, but the specificity by which these tracks and lyrics were born don’t hem them in or limit their relatability. On the contrary, by Spence opening up her own particular introspections to all of us, yet again, she enables each of her listeners to find our own healing, growth, and redemption in the same way she has. Through song.
Tracks like “Fun at Parties,” “Confront It,” “Why the Tree Loves the Ax,” and “Where the Time Goes” – really, the entire collection – have been remedies I didn’t know I would need so deeply when the album was first announced. Spence never needs to rely on tropes or platitudes to handle these sorts of topics. She rises above gratuitousness or melodrama, even while she acknowledges the sorts of grief, pain, and change she’s reckoning with aren’t aberrations from the human experience, they are the human experience. She’s reminding herself as much as each of us, and I suppose that’s where the magic of her particular skillset truly lies. – Justin Hiltner
Billy Strings at IBMA World of Bluegrass
When it comes to the International Bluegrass Music Association, two big things happened in 2025: the annual conference, festival, and awards show found new digs in Chattanooga, Tennessee, and Billy Strings finally returned to where it all began for the star. Taking home his fourth Entertainer of the Year award this year, Strings made a genuine, heartfelt effort to appear at the IBMA events. Not only to accept his recognition, but also to hang around the festivities all week.
Strings kicked off the conference with a stunning keynote address, only to then perform two shows in Chattanooga (one with his full band, one with guitar wizard and mentor Bryan Sutton). Throughout the week, Strings casually popped up all over the city, either jumping in on jam circles or merely stopping to chat with fans and fellow musicians alike, including a memorable jam with 90-year-old bluegrass icon Paul Williams. Strings’ presence was a well-received thing for a bluegrass community not only indebted to the six-string ace for what he’s brought to the scene, but also to remind everyone he hasn’t abandoned bluegrass — it’ll always be the essence of his melodic core. – Garret K. Woodward
Molly Tuttle, So Long Little Miss Sunshine
Molly Tuttle’s So Long Little Miss Sunshine actually comes loaded with sunshine and it’s evident from all angles. The empowered and fearless lyrics start on the first track, “Everything Burns,” and continue through “No Regrets” and “Story of My So-Called Life,” showing Tuttle standing proudly in feelings, intentions, and reflections that are true to this chapter in her life.
Whether she’s basking in a seemingly perfect headspace (“There’s no valley I can’t cross, or mountain I can’t climb/ I’m in a golden state of mind”) or making a messy choice and owning it without self-abasement (“Don’t try to fix it when you break my heart/ Knew when you hit me with your poison dart”), every moment is deliberate and delivered with confidence. That includes the sonic side of things, too – despite judgmental heat coming from folks who think Tuttle is trading in pickin’ parties for pop(ularity).
First: There’s plenty of Tuttle’s prodigious musicianship shining on this record. Second: take a cue from Tuttle herself and embrace what’s new as we go into the new year! Because for Tuttle, not all the personality on this album is new. It’s just new to us because she’s finally letting it out and letting it breathe. – Kira Grunenberg
Cristina Vane, Hear My Call
The Italian-born, Nashville-based singer and multi-instrumentalist Cristina Vane has long been at home playing bluegrass, country, blues and everything in between, but on Hear My Call she’s finally at home with the most important thing of all — herself.
Across the album’s 13 tracks Vane embraces the cultures and sounds that have shaped her, from finding joy in everywhere she’s been on the rock anthem, “Little Girl From Nowhere,” to relating to the stories of someone born an ocean away on the banjo ballad, “My Mountain.” While many songs on the record lean heavy into introspection and the strength that comes from it, others find power in everything from fun and sensual moments (“Shake It Babe”) to moving on from people who don’t value your presence and time (“You Ain’t Special”).
On top of Vane’s clever songwriting, I also can’t get enough of her playing on this album. Throughout, she moves effortlessly from banjo to slide guitar without skipping a beat, further reinforcing her staying power. This is someone to watch from 2026 onward. – Matt Wickstrom
Lead Image: Justin Robinson & Rhiannon Giddens by Karen Cox; I’m With Her by Alysse Gafkjen; Carsie Blanton by Bobby Bonsey.
Editor’s Note: On September 27, 2025, the Folk Americana Roots Hall of Fame in partnership with the Bruce Springsteen Archives and Center for American Music held a collaborative symposium entitled Wasn’t That A Time: The Boston Folk Revival 1958-1965. Over the course of the day, attendees at the Arrow Street Arts Center in Cambridge, Massachusetts, enjoyed sessions and panels on such subjects as Club 47, Joan Baez, Bob Dylan at Newport Folk Fest, a conversation with Peter Wolf, and much more. The symposium programming was captured and filmed, and over the course of the next few weeks we’ll be sharing select sessions with our audience right here on BGS. Tune in and enjoy learning more about how Boston was at the epicenter of the folk revival in the ’50s and ’60s.
About the Video: Joan Baez first played Club 47 when she was 17 and performed there every Tuesday night until her career took off at Newport Folk Festival. How did this shift from local coffeehouse performer occur, who and what were the pivotal influences on Joan and her career, and how do music archaeologists study her career?
“This panel on Joan Baez is one of the richest conversations we hosted at our September Symposium – a panel that captures Joan Baez’s artistic legacy through the voices of people who’ve both lived and studied her story up close. It’s smart, emotional, and full of perspective you won’t hear anywhere else. We’re excited to share it with BGS readers.” – Casey Soward, President and CEO of the Boch Center
In our eyes and to our ears, there’s no better family of musical genres to usher in the holiday season than roots music. Bluegrass, Americana, old-time, country, blues, and beyond – they’re all perfectly suited for the coziest time of year, for togetherness, for parties and gift-giving and cookie icing. Whether you celebrate Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, or Winter Solstice – or even if you feel like opting out of the ruckus altogether – there is roots music for you.
Each year, we like to share our picks for the rootsiest time of the year in BGS Wraps, a weekly collection of songs, videos, albums, shows, tours, and events that celebrate the season. We share a few of our favorites, mostly brand new but often classics and timeless selections, too. Plus, we collect all that we can into a running playlist so you’re ready when the family or party hands you the aux cable.
We hope you enjoy BGS Wraps and tune in the next week as we continue our series celebrating the holiday season. (Catch up on week one here. And check out week two here.)
Merry Happy Whatever, The Doohickeys
Country duo the Doohickeys go fully original with their brand new Christmas EP, Merry Happy Whatever. Their trademark wit and humor are evident across the project’s five songs – including gut-busters like “Santa Needs A Beer” and “Santa Is A Stoner.” (Does Santa need a breathalyzer, as well?) On the EP’s title track, the delightfully crowd-pleasing and all-encompassing “Merry Happy Whatever,” Haley Spence Brown and Jack Hackett are joined by the Wolves of Glendale, with rich background vocals and holiday winds and brass to accomplish that full-tilt holiday sound. And a merry happy whatever to you, too!
A Cherry Valley Holiday, Carter Faith
A favorite of ours from the mainstream country space, Carter Faith released an excellent A-side/B-side holiday single this season, pairing “Nothin’ For Christmas” (featuring William Beckmann) with “Please Come Home For Christmas.” Packaged as a two-song collection titled A Cherry Valley Holiday, both tracks are perfectly suited for your countriest Christmas playlists. Faith’s duet with Beckmann showcases how both artists keep tradition alive while still looking to the future. You may be reminded of iconic duets like Lee Ann Womack with George Strait or Dolly Parton with Kenny Rogers. The holiday cheer doesn’t stop there, either, Faith recently joined Jimmy Fallon himself on “Ugly Sweater,” a funny seasonal track produced by Dave Cobb that the pair unveiled together on The Tonight Show. Between the Christmas singles and “Ugly Sweater,” there’s a country holiday flavor for everyone. Carter Faith does it all.
“Christmas in Yuma,” Cameron Knowler
One of our favorite albums of the year was released by guitarist, archivist, writer, and composer Cameron Knowler (who sometimes writes for BGS, too). CRK was released in April and, being set in the desert in and around Yuma, Arizona, the project feels properly warm and sunny, painting sonic pictures of red rocks and cactuses and blacktop baking in the sun. If that doesn’t sound properly Christmas-y to you, take a moment to inhabit the album’s lead track, “Christmas in Yuma.” A gorgeous prose poem set to sparse, textural guitar, the text was written by Knowler but is read by his friend and fellow Southwesterner, Jack Kilmer. It’s a truly stunning beginning to the project and we’ve been holding onto it all year for just this occasion. It may not be the most sing-along ready track of the holiday season, but its transportive feelings of nostalgia, grief, longing, and pain at seismic transformations – or at cloying, gluey stagnation, or both – are altogether more than perfect for the holidays.
“Christmas Love Song,” Willie Nelson
If the only present any of us received this year was a “Christmas Love Song” from Willie Nelson, well, that would feel like a pretty complete holiday season, wouldn’t it? With just one simple offering, every “need” could be checked off our wish lists. Written by fellow legend Bill Anderson (with help from Bobby Tomberlin and Marv Green) and produced by fellow legend Buddy Cannon, “Christmas Love Song” includes plenty of Nelson’s signature charm, whether in his languid phrasing or his tasteful nylon-string licks on his trusty guitar, Trigger. In the lyric itself Nelson is remarkably humble about his holiday offering: “It ain’t a lot, but every word of it’s true/ It don’t sparkle or shine/ But it’s one of a kind…” For all of us who’ve received this holiday gift from the legendary Willie Nelson, it feels like more than enough. And we will certainly cherish it.
“Oh, It’s Christmas,” Sage Palser and Prairie Wildfire featuring Danny Paisley
New bluegrass holiday hits are all too rare, so we relish them when we find them. This release from 2024 is a great example, cheery sleigh bells giving way to burning bluegrass that will warm the winter right out of your heart. Sage Palser joined Danny Paisley and the Southern Grass on a recent single that ended up on Paisley’s most recent album, Bluegrass State of Mind, and their knack for collaboration is showcased on “Oh, It’s Christmas,” as well. Paisley and Palser sing in duet while backed up by Palser’s band, Prairie Wildfire. This one has got us in the mood for Dollywood’s Smoky Mountain Christmas. It’s the perfect bluegrass track for some cinnamon bread and roller coasters.
“Office Christmas Party,” Brittany Ann Tranbaugh feat. Carsie Blanton
Ah, at long last, a tribute to everyone’s favorite events of the holiday season – the dreaded office Christmas party. From Brittany Ann Tranbaugh and Carsie Blanton, “Office Christmas Party” is silly and light-hearted, but with a message direct from Ebenezer Scrooge’s counting house employees: Sure, gifts of appreciation from our employer at this time of year are appreciated, but we’d much prefer workers’ rights, collective bargaining, and a living wage. Enjoy the free beer, cookies, and pizza at your corporate party, of course – and commiserating with our coworkers is solidarity, whether they know it or not – but focus on what will really bring the reason for the season into focus. A union! Tranbaugh and Blanton continue to showcase their penchant for making mission-focused music that’s also fun, engaging, and joyous.
“Where My Heart Is,” Randy Travis
Thanks to technology, AI, and contributions from vocalist James DuPré, Randy Travis “got his voice back” last year and began releasing brand new music featuring the low, smoky, dulcet tones for which he was adored. It’s one of the more interesting use-cases of AI in music, leveraged to give an artist their agency back instead of stealing it away forever. Travis’ pair of singles with his new AI-enabled voice are well-executed for what they are, but a newly released from-the-vault track like “Where My Heart Is” still reaffirms the ineffable in his hitmaking voice that we won’t ever get back. Even the best AI just cannot compare. “Where My Heart Is” was recorded prior to Travis’ fateful 2013 stroke that would render him unable to sing. It’s a lovely, heartfelt track that falls in perfect step with his beloved holiday albums An Old Time Christmas and Songs of the Season. We’ll take any/all Randy Travis songs we can get, but this one feels extra special.
Christmas with el Twanguero, Twanguero
Spanish guitarist Diego Garcia is Twanguero, maker of one of the finest holiday collections to be released this year, Christmas with el Twanguero. Recorded entirely to analog tape, the album of instrumental renditions of holiday favorites is tasteful, warm, and cozy. It would fit just perfectly bookended by Vince Guaraldi Trio and Sharon Jones & the Dap Kings. It’s understated in its execution, relying on retro vibes and sounds to do the heavy lifting holiday pomp and bling would normally bring on such a project. For an album centered on the guitar, it never feels like it has to rely on showboating or hot licks, instead leaning into familiarity to bring us something that feels refreshing and new. It’s cinematic and lush, but down to earth and intimate, too. Plus, the album supports El Patojismo, a school of arts and social transformation based in Jocotenango, Guatemala, fostering education and creativity within its community. All around, it’s a lovely holiday discovery.
Peace, Love, and Cowboys (Holiday Edition), Lainey Wilson
Not sure if or when we’ve ever enjoyed such a holiday treat as this! Lainey Wilson returns to “Peace, Love, and Cowboys” from the deluxe release of her 2024 hit album, Whirlwind, to offer us a lovely holiday rewrite of the track. Retooled for the season, the message of the song resonates all the same – we need more hippie cowboys, cowgirls, and cowbabes, this time of year and beyond. The Christmas EP also includes a duet with Bing Crosby himself on “Let it Snow! Let it Snow! Let it Snow!” – Wilson can get anyone on a feature! Plus, she revisits a prior holiday single, “Christmas Cookies;” she also includes instrumental versions of each number, if you happen to have a word-free playlist that needs new transfusions of seasonal songs. We love the way Wilson approaches country music, and this little collection shows the creativity and outside-the-box-thinking she brings to the table.
Lead Image: Randy Travis by Marisa Taylor; Carter Faith by Bree Marie Fish; The Doohickeys by Jesse DeFlorio.
If you’re looking for a definitive, qualitative, and deliberate ranking; a firm and scientific rubric; or an unbiased, sterile reckoning of the best albums made in bluegrass this year, this roundup may not be for you.
Truthfully, as someone who’s worked, been acquainted, and become friends with many of the artists on this list in various capacities – from bio writing to onstage performances to media coverage to pickin’ parties to recordings and beyond – objectivity isn’t something I, personally, could establish anyway. And such year-end or other merit-based lists and collections aren’t all that interesting, are they, if not just to argue with their curation and selections.
I would not even attempt such things, because to me – to many of us – that’s not what bluegrass is about anyway. Bluegrass is about a feeling. It’s about innovation. It’s about virtuosity. It’s about tradition, loving it or retooling it or coaxing it or turning it upside down. It’s about adrenaline and a high pulse – and passing a mason jar around. It’s about feeling downtrodden or alone, shedding tears into that very ‘shine, and wailing along with the high lonesome sound. It’s folk music as much as it’s abject commercial country in “poor people drag.” It’s endlessly interesting and complex, but pretty damn simple, too.
Anyone with even an ounce of sense knows and understands that bluegrass can’t ever be objective. So indeed, why try? Why not acknowledge that bluegrass is always a matter of taste, of preference, of whimsical or capricious or convicted opinion? Bluegrass is always debatable, because, after all, bluegrass is always in the eye of the beholder.
In the eyes – and especially ears – of this particular beholder, these albums released in 2025 were the best, the most memorable, the most engaging. These collections stick to ribs like ham hocks, or stick in your throat like the tastiest clod of emotional peanut butter. They each advance, subvert, perpetuate, or wrinkle our core ideas of what bluegrass is – and what it can be.
Are each and every one of these LPs the best in bluegrass from 2025? Perhaps not… But also definitely yes.
Big Richard, Girl Dinner
In January, we gobbled down a heaping helping of Big Richard energy with the nourishing and nutritious Girl Dinner. The project may have been the band’s album debut, but this Colorado all-women quartet had already been making remarkable waves in the bluegrass, jamgrass, and string band scenes – and each of the members had extensive and glitzy musical resumés before they even convened. With a new album, Pet, on the horizon for February 2026, a signing with Signature Sounds, and an upcoming co-bill tour with fellow femme outfit Della Mae, we can tell this Girl Dinner is set to become an ongoing traveling feast.
Shawn Camp, The Ghost of Sis Draper
I remember attending Station Inn shows in Nashville in the early 2010s and sitting with rapt attention – like Martha’s sister Mary at the feet of Jesus – as Shawn Camp performed his suite of Sis Draper songs with his star-studded bluegrass bands. Often you’d hear just “Magnolia Wind” or just “Sis Draper.” Sometimes he would perform a more complete handful of the tracks he had written, individually and with his hero and mentor Guy Clark, about the mythical roots music figure from his home state of Arkansas. Now, he’s collected the slate of material – what could easily become a musical or multi-disciplinary theatre work of some kind – into one commanding, lovely, and visceral album. These are timeless songs, written and rendered as only Camp could.
Jason Carter & Michael Cleveland, Carter & Cleveland
Every now and again a new collaborative duo album comes along and makes you think, “Oh! This must have been what it felt like when Skaggs & Rice was released.” Or Tone Poems. Or Ralph Stanley and Jimmy Martin’s First Time Together. A monumental occasion, captured for posterity’s sake in the studio. When fiddlers Jason Carter & Michael Cleveland released their duo debut, that was the feeling. History made in the present, a work that will be regarded as seminal ages into the future being enjoyed in real time. Carter and Cleveland have collaborated quite a bit over the decades they’ve known each other, but what a gift to have that musical friendship ensconced forever on this album. We hope there is more to come.
Wes Corbett, Drift
Look, if all modernist banjo players sounded like Béla Fleck and Noam Pikelny, that would certainly be great. But thankfully there are dozens of five-string pickers continuing to expand on the Fleck (and Pikelny and Munde and Keith and Trischka) school of Scruggs-style, each in their own veins. Corbett is one of the best. Though he blends effortlessly into Scott Vestal’s former role in Sam Bush’s band – or into any number of recordings and one-off pick-up bands that boast his playing in newgrass and bluegrass and beyond – Corbett is a true idiosyncratic banjo player and composer. Drift, his latest, often employs traditional techniques as tools for innovation and contemporary tunesmithing. He recalls the great melodic pickers while always sounding first and foremost like himself.
East Nash Grass, All God’s Children
A few years ago, if you had told me the ragamuffin band holding down Monday nights at Dee’s Country Cocktail Lounge in Madison, Tennessee, would in 2025 release an album you’d describe as “heartfelt, contemplative, and intentional,” I would have probably laughed. East Nash Grass were just as jaw-dropping good then as they are now, but with that down-home silliness and clumsy charm all the great bluegrass bands born of indentured residencies have had. All God’s Children finds the band all the way grown up (but not really), and they never forsake their banter-rich, never-know-what-you’re-gonna-get roots. That overlap – of silly and heartfelt and virtuosic and not too serious – is where most (if not all) of the best bluegrass is born, anyway.
Sierra Hull, A Tip Toe High Wire
Every single time Sierra Hull releases a new album, journalists and critics love to talk about how she’s now “found herself” and “found her sound.” This writer, however, disagrees. I first saw Hull perform when we were both in our mid-teens and then as now I knew, wholeheartedly, this is someone who knows who they are. Granted, Hull has done plenty of finding herself along the way, as we all do, but the songs and tunes of A Tip Toe High Wire were obviously not born of someone just locating her voice, musically or otherwise. They don’t feel experimental or out on a limb, they are each solidly in her wheelhouse. They do still push the envelope, though, and they all tell personal stories, draw on individual experiences, and chase those treasured Hull-ian melodies wherever they lead.
I’m With Her, Wild and Clear and Blue
Perhaps all future I’m With Her albums should be made while basking in the “Ancient Light” of a total solar eclipse, given the striking sonic successes of Wild and Clear and Blue. Is that cosmic magic why their second full-length release feels so distinct and metamorphosed from their debut? Is it all the years and personal growth in between recordings? It’s not like they reinvented the wheel, they’re the exact same band – but something feels different here. Whatever the special sauce may be, all of I’m With Her’s offerings over the course of the band’s lifespan have been stellar, but this latest full-length project stands apart. As long as Jarosz, O’Donovan, and Watkins are making music together, we will be unendingly grateful they offer us these recorded windows into their creativity.
Kissing Other ppl, Kissing Other ppl
Bluegrass and old-time birth new projects, bands, and collaborations all the time. Some are purposefully momentary, some are unintentional flashes in the pan, some are such long strings of last names ampersand-ed together you know there’s no future for them. We hope Kissing Other ppl are here to stay. Rachel Baiman and Viv & Riley joined forces on the album – and band – turning mainstream and pop songs into bluegrassy and old-timey string band arrangements that positively vibrate with passion and life. “Sad boi” covers these are not, though you may at times find them subdued or tender or mild. Long may this old-time Americana musical polycule reign.
Cameron Knowler, CRK
If you’ve been craving a contemporary storyteller and poet who utilizes the guitar as their medium – like Norman Blake or Doc Watson or Tony Rice or so many others – I am so pleased to step onto my soapbox to tell you about Cameron Knowler. Also a writer (at times for BGS), archivist, photographer, and visual artist, Knowler’s guitar-centered album, CRK, is almost anything but a “guitar album,” despite each and every composition centering on the instrument. The LP paints vivid and haunting musical portraits of a place Knowler loves, longs for – and despises or begrudges, too – Yuma, Arizona. Knowler wouldn’t even pretend to compare himself to Norman Blake or state that he’s deliberately taking up Blake’s heavy, heavy mantle in the 2020s, but I’m saying he is. Thank goodness.
Bryan McDowell, Bryan McDowell
You may recognize multi-instrumentalist Bryan McDowell from his time performing, recording, and touring with artists like Claire Lynch, Sierra Hull, Molly Tuttle, Alison Brown, and many, many more. He’s an incredibly talented sideman and session player, so when I first received his new self-titled solo album, I imagined the sort of formless instrumental project most pickers with similar resumés create. What a pleasant surprise to find a fully fledged, well-rounded, complete song sequence chocked full of original songs and McDowell’s lovely, honeyed singing voice. (I know Bryan and I didn’t know he sang like this!) It’s on me, really – I shouldn’t have been surprised at all – but McDowell’s skill set is clearly no longer just geared towards backing others up. I am looking forward to seeing what’s next.
Shelby Means, Shelby Means
Speaking of artists ready to step out of the role of sideperson or session musician. Bassist, singer, and songwriter Shelby Means’ debut solo album is fantastic. Since departing Molly Tuttle’s Golden Highway, Means has already built striking momentum as an artist unto herself, and the quick success of her album has played a huge role in that. With originals, tasteful (and surprising) covers, and a star-studded roster of pickers – Tuttle, Ron Block, Michael Cleveland, and more – the project certainly doesn’t feel like a debut. And it shouldn’t, Means has crisscrossed the country and the globe for decades, she’s more than ready to step to the center of the stage. She’s done it before, she’s doing it again – and now a lot more frequently, I’d bet.
The Onlies, You Climb the Mountain
All the best bluegrass is old-time these days. (I say that over and over again, here’s what it means.) While mainstream bluegrass sounds more like ‘90s country played by a bluegrass string band, or jamgrass, or “MASH” – all of which depart greatly from the 1945/1946 sound of its origin – modern old-time becomes more and more of an audio swatch of essential parts of what bluegrass used to sound like and used to include. One album this year that epitomizes this phenomenon is the Onlies’ You Climb the Mountain. Is it phenotypical bluegrass? Oh, no. It’s not. But it also has plenty of textures and tones endemic to original bluegrass that are becoming increasingly rare in its modern forms. I shouldn’t sell the Onlies short, though, they aren’t here because they’re “better bluegrass” than bluegrass, or more authentic, or more “real.” They’re here because this album is excellent, on its own terms.
Danny Paisley, Bluegrass State of Mind
Danny Paisley is celebrating 50 years of bluegrass with his latest album, Bluegrass State of Mind. Still looking for new challenges and trying to add fresh sparkle to his dyed-in-the-wool traditional sound, the new LP includes Dobro (for the first time), drums (sacrilege!), and a bit of an Americana lean. (Don’t you dare call it “grassicana.”) To BGS readers, the project will most likely sound like straight down the middle bluegrass of the highest order. Longtime fans of Paisley & the Southern Grass, though, may notice that very sparkle Danny has been chasing, as he targets new audiences and still sets new goals, five decades into his career as a bluegrass tradesman. It’s the family business.
Missy Raines & Allegheny, Love & Trouble
Missy Raines is one of the winningest musicians in the history of IBMA, amassing 10 Bass Player of the Year trophies over the years and and a handful of honors in other categories, as well. She may have won her biggest prize, though, when she landed on her latest band lineup, Missy Raines & Allegheny, a few years ago now. Her second album with the group, Love & Trouble, continues building upon the chemistry and collaboration that dripped from 2024’s Highlander. They often rise to the occasion of my preferred nickname for them, Mashy Raines & Allegheny, but they remain a consistently dynamic group capable of gritty, barn-burning bluegrass and contemplative and emotive slow burners, just the same.
Red Camel Collective, Red Camel Collective
They began as Junior Sisk’s backing band, and like many of the great “spinoff” bluegrass bands of yore – Quicksilver (Authentic Unlimited), the New South (American Drive), and many more – Red Camel Collective have quickly shown they’ve got the chops to take the same route. Their debut self-titled album was released earlier this year and was made at Sisk’s suggestion – and with his blessing. (He regularly steps off the stage at his own shows to spotlight the Collective and their music, as well.) This band of lifelong pickers have clocked so many miles playing bluegrass and executing the visions of others that, when charting their own course as Red Camel Collective, they’re able to sound exactly like themselves. It’s tough to sound singular in modern, radio-inclined bluegrass. But Red Camel Collective do. Is that why they won New Artist of the Year at the IBMA Awards this fall? It sure ain’t coincidence.
Sister Sadie, All Will Be Well
Sister Sadie’s All Will Be Well is like dropping the needle on a 45-minute bluegrass therapy session. I don’t say it flippantly or sarcastically; it is indeed shocking the level of earnest contemplation, processing, emoting, and growth evident in the songs on this album. At the same time, when you hear the tracks played down at a bustling bluegrass festival or a packed rock club or a subdued listening room, they never feel twee or try-hard or sodden with greeting-card level sentiments. They never feel heavy, actually – this is fun, often hilarious, party-ready music. Dance-along music. Shout-along songs. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry. (At the vocals alone.) These are real human ideas, thoughts, and feelings set to bluegrass. Imagine.
Larry Sparks, Way Back When
How does this album seem like it could have been pulled from any year, any decade of Bluegrass Hall of Famer Larry Spark’s sceptered career? Because it could have been, damnit. He’s Larry Sparks. Way Back When sounds warm and live, like listening to tape or vinyl over earbuds or cell phone speakers. Like being in the room with that resonant, vibrant, and patinated voice. The material is timeless, but never tired or lost in retrospection. Sparks is obviously making bluegrass in the present, as he always has. He just sounds exactly like this. And the way he talks about making music – as he did in a BGS interview set for publish in January 2026 – you can tell, for him, it’s essential to inhabit the present and inhabit the song. Bluegrass really is his calling, and we’re all all the better for it.
Billy Strings & Bryan Sutton, Live At The Legion
One of the best bluegrass albums of the year? Of course. One of the best live shows and tours of the year? Doubly, triply, quadruply of course. You’d think it would be brain-melting to listen to hours of two acoustic guitars and an electric bass pick through bluegrass, fiddle tunes, and Doc Watson classics, but it was divine. Trance-like – not with eyes glazed over, but on the edge of your seat. I wasn’t at that show at the Legion when they tracked the album, but was lucky enough to catch their show this fall at the Ryman in Nashville. If you weren’t so fortunate, don’t worry, ‘cause this isn’t an incredibly exclusive club. This record really does capture all that’s ineffable of being “in the room.” (No one is surprised.) Turns out, you can actually bottle and sell it, if you’re these two. Now if only you could buy the skillset, too…
Thompson the Fox, The Fox in Tiger’s Clothing, vol. 1 & vol. 2
Maybe once a year I trip over or into a new music discovery that gets me so excited I start getting annoyed with myself from having to hear me recommend them over and over again. With Thompson the Fox, it never got annoying (not to me, at least) and the excitement of turning folks onto their music still hasn’t worn off. So here we are, again. If this is your initiation, don’t thank me, thank the people who sent Thompson the Fox my way. Jazz, newgrass, bluegrass, bebop, ragtime, and oh-so-many more styles and textures combine in a completely fresh and distinctive form. I’ve never heard new acoustic music quite like this, yet it’s clearly rooted in that tradition. The simple math of xylophone, banjo, bass, and drums doesn’t quite math, but this group sounds resplendent, rich, and fascinating. Takumi Kodera on banjo is a revelation and Rie Koyama (xylophone), Akihide Teshima (bass), and Tomohito Yoshijima (drums) complete the Tokyo-based ensemble.
Cristina Vane, Hear My Call
Cristina Vane exists at an intersection of roots music that far too few inhabit, because very few can manage there. Vane can. She does blues, bluegrass, old-time, country, and Americana. Sometimes blended, sometimes compartmentalized. She’s got short-form, short-attention-span, vertical-video appeal for days, but her songs are never vapid or playing to any kind of commercial common denominator. Her instrumental skills and the passion for learning and song collection across roots and folk genres that she exhibits bring it all together. I’d not want to subject either woman to the corniness of comparing one to the other, but for folks who love Sierra Ferrell and are looking for more artists in a similar roots-meets-mainstream space, Cristina Vane can do it. She is doing it.
Vickie Vaughn, Travel On
Vickie Vaughn has won IBMA Bass Player of the Year for three years in a row and on the heels of that remarkable accomplishment, she’s released her debut full-length solo album, Travel On. Produced by Deanie Richardson of Sister Sadie, it’s Vaughn’s first recording under her own name released in 10 years. Original songs and covers are packaged in a sound that’s always trad bluegrass, but often infused with a dash of Osborne Brothers from the ‘80s or Jim & Jesse with a drum kit. It’s an Earl Scruggs Revue sort of flair, troubadour-steeped bluegrass-country. And it’s divine.
To conclude this long yet non-exhaustive and surely myopic list of the best bluegrass albums of 2025, let me leave you with this gentle reminder. What’s bluegrass and what’s best are always in the eye – and the ear – of the beholder.
What was your favorite bluegrass album of 2025? Let us know on social media. We hope you discover some new music to love in our BGS Class of 2025 and we can’t wait to make new discoveries with you, too.
BGS Staff contributed to this list.
Photo Credit: Shelby Means by Hunter McRae; Shawn Camp by Neilson Hubbard; Sierra Hull by Spencer Showalter.
Lots of people would like to think their lives have made a difference – whether through their family life, or work, or some sort of creative endeavor.
However, even to approach the enduring heritage of the great musician Arthel “Doc” Watson, a person would have to achieve lifetime landmarks as imposing as the North Carolina Appalachian mountains that were his home. During a lifespan from his birth in 1923 until his death in 2012, Watson created a legacy of music, folklore, and goodwill that no one has entirely equaled.
First a little background: Arthel Lane Watson was born March 3, 1923, near Deep Gap – he is not from Asheville – in Western North Carolina. An audience member suggested the nickname “Doc” when his given name was found less than compelling for an entertainer.
His life story before and after becoming an admired folk musician has been often told, notably in Doc Watson: A Life in Music, a 2025 biography by Eddie Huffman published by the University of North Carolina Press.
Blind since infancy, Watson started to develop life skills and musical ability from an early age. He learned both formal and popular styles when sent to the state’s school for the blind in Raleigh at about age 10.
The boy was consumed by music and persistent in getting better at it. Watson had learned both the rudiments of harmonica and a few banjo tunes from his father, General Watson, before he went off to Raleigh. While living within the strict environment of the school for the blind, Watson learned braille and grew familiar with classical and church styles of music taught there. Perhaps as strong an influence as that education was fellow student Paul Montgomery, the talented friend from whom he learned guitar chords. Young Watson and Montgomery, later a well-known Raleigh pianist and children’s show host, shared enthusiasm for the popular music of the day, including jazz and big-band sounds.
His parents, Annie and General Watson, taught the boy skills of growing crops and basic carpentry, and he contributed to the family despite his blindness.
After years of mostly local performances back in Western North Carolina, it wasn’t until the early 1960s, when East Coast musician and historian Ralph Rinzler tuned into and promoted his far-reaching ability as a singer and picker, that Watson’s name gained national, then international attention.
According to an account at the Blue Ridge Heritage Area website Watson recorded over 50 albums and was honored with “the National Medal of Arts, a National Heritage Fellowship, the North Carolina Folk Heritage Award, seven GRAMMY Awards, and a GRAMMY Lifetime Achievement Award.”
As fans know, Doc Watson contained multitudes of skills, a breadth of ability that inspired this list of the five pillars of his musical and artistic legacy.
The King Flatpicker
Watson largely created the challenging fiddle-inspired guitar style that led many followers along a flatpicking trail.
It was during the 1950s, when playing an electric Gibson Les Paul in the local Jack Williams Band, that Watson developed a style that would transform the way the guitar was played in folk and bluegrass music.
Generally, earlier acoustic guitarists in roots-derived styles used a flatpick to create basic “boom-chuck” back up, perhaps throwing in some fills and Jimmie-Rodgers-style bass runs.
But when dancers at Williams’s gigs wanted music for square-dancing, Watson worked up single-note versions of fast fiddle tunes such as “June Apple” and “Bill Cheatham” on his Les Paul. This approach enables lead guitar pickers to achieve the same flowing, rapid attack that fiddlers used for tunes, many of which had come over from the British Isles in past generations.
It’s not possible to say that Doc Watson was the first guitarist to flatpick fiddle tunes. After all, it wasn’t until Watson emerged as a folk artist in the 1960s that the broader music scene caught on to his musicianship. And high achievers such as Arthur Smith on “Guitar Boogie,” Don Reno on “Country Boy Rock ‘n’ Roll,” and Bill Napier on the Stanley Brothers’ “Mountain Dew” – along with some jazz and blues players – all recorded hot-licks acoustic soloing before Watson did. Joe Maphis was also cranking out ultra-fast flatpicking numbers in the 1950s.
But it was Watson’s 1960s performances that created a precedent for a wave of guitarists who had to muscle up to the speed and dexterity he displayed.
A long line of guitarists at the top of the field – from Clarence White to Tony Rice, from Bryan Sutton to Billy Strings – all show Watson’s clear influence not just in recreating fiddle tunes, but also in rapid-fire picking and clean sound on a broad range of material.
Player and educator Alan Barnosky wrote in “An Exploration of Doc Watson’s Innovative and Joyful Guitar Stylings” for Acoustic Guitar in 2023 about the spread of this kind of playing.
“Watson amazed folk fans in the early 1960s by taking tunes typically reserved for the fiddle and reworking them for the acoustic with speed, clarity, and flash,” he wrote. “He never claimed to be the first to play fiddle tunes on a guitar, but for the majority of listeners at the time it was an entirely novel and groundbreaking approach.”
Another world-class, tradition-based player, Earl Scruggs, praised Watson’s adaptation of fiddle tunes as the two were joined by Ricky Skaggs for the 2003 The Three Pickers performance and album.
“He was the first man I ever heard on the guitar that was fooling with tunes like that,” Scruggs said in a Three Pickers introduction. “You had all these good G-C-D pickers – that’s chord positions – but I had never heard anybody that actually took over a lead like a banjo or a fiddle or a mandolin and do those tunes. He could do it.
“And what amazed me about Doc Watson’s picking, and still does, is he’s got that – I call it ‘mountain sound’ to his picking, and he’s one of the best to keep it in that mode of sound.”
New generations of players have immersed themselves in Watson’s style. When I interviewed him for a Bluegrass Unlimited article, leading guitar picker and multi-instrumentalist Bryan Sutton talked about being captivated by Watson’s playing during Sutton’s youth on Western North Carolina.
“Doc and Dan Crary were the first great influences on me,” he said. “Doc Watson was one of the first professional musicians/guitar players that I ever saw. He doesn’t live too far from Asheville, so I saw him play some different festivals and at Maggie Valley. So, he was the first one to really catch my ear as far as what you could do with the flatpick.
“My right hand – it may not as much anymore – but I remember at one time it was kind of like Doc’s. It’s kind of like the way Sam Bush plays, using the whole forearm and wrist involved in the playing, whereas with jazz players or Tony Rice it’s more of a wrist thing. I think I’ve got a little bit of both now.”
Billy Strings, the artist who’s likely doing the most to promote Watson’s legacy in the 21st century, sounded almost evangelical during a September 2025 interview for NPR’s Fresh Air.
“He’s like the ground upon which I stand, you know?” Strings said. “My dad played his music all around the house growing up. And by the time I could play guitar, you know, 5, 6 years old, I was learning those tunes, too. I might’ve been able to play some of them before I knew how to tie my shoes or something, you know?
“It was like, I was learning how to speak and talk and walk, and I was learning all these Doc Watson tunes at the same time. And it was just, like, a religion in my house, you know? His music is just – it’s the best.”
To see some of the top pickers in the field paying tribute, check out this video shot at the Merle Watson Memorial Festival – what would become MerleFest – in Wilkesboro, North Carolina, in 1992.
A Model Fingerpicker
From his first albums on, Watson regularly also played guitar with a thumbpick and index finger. As he noted with his customary self-deprecating humor in the DVD “Doc’s Guitar: Fingerpicking & Flatpicking,” “See, I just play with one finger and a thumb. I don’t use the sensible three-finger method that you should use on finger-style guitar.” (Watch below.)
Watson sounded great with that approach, making finger-picked tunes such as “Deep River Blues,” “Nashville Blues,” “Omie Wise,” and “Doc’s Guitar” fan favorites and objects of long study. For every striving guitarist who practiced hard on his fiddle-tune adaptations, plenty of pickers also worked on showcases such as “Windy and Warm,” with its alternating bass, pull-offs, note bending, and a jazzy minor sixth chord at its conclusion.
Watson’s fingerpicking often showed off his acquaintance with diverse approaches, as in “Deep River Blues,” with an E diminished as its second chord. It also illustrates the way he put his touch on existing pieces such as 1933’s “Big River Blues” by the Delmore Brothers, who played with flatpicks.
“There were two guitars, a tenor – a little four-string, and the regular flattop, and I never could get my guitar to sound like both of theirs did,” Watson said. “Then I began to hear brother Merle Travis, the late Merle Travis, on the radio. And I thought, Now, wait a minute. If I can steal me a lick off brother Travis, maybe I can learn ‘Deep River Blues.’”
Multi-talented Kentuckian Merle Travis (1917-1983) popularized a style in which the thumb plays an alternating bass on the guitar’s lower strings while picking the melody on treble strings. Watson also studied the work of the great guitarist Chet Atkins. The picking buddies released the album Reflections in 1980.
The centuries-old, transatlantic ballad “Georgie” would have once been sung unaccompanied, leaving Watson and others free to craft a brand new style of guitar back up. With no clear precedent on guitar, he might employ the flowing, almost classical patterns that became popular among folk revivalists.
And fingerpicking became the tool Watson used to play the blues that he loved and drew on so deeply, music he followed from the time he heard Mississippi John Hurt on the family’s disc player in childhood.
In the end, there’s no easy way to pin down the many elements Watson brought to his picking, musical points of view that enriched his listeners along the way.
A Standout Singer
Doc Watson’s vocal abilities don’t generally get as much attention as his top-drawer chops as an instrumentalist. However, he was also a tuneful singer with a natural, angelic mountain baritone.
Watson came along during an era when rougher-voiced vocalists such as Hobart Smith, Dock Boggs, and his picking buddy Clarence Ashley represented mountain singing to a growing audience. And Watson’s less mannered style likely contributed to acceptance among listeners less familiar with the high lonesome sound. His direct vocal approach was often heard in performances with no instrumental backing.
It’s useful to remember that Watson also enjoyed the smooth country vocalist Eddy Arnold so much that his son Merle Eddy Arnold was named not just after fingerpicker Merle Travis, but also for Arnold.
Tunes from the Tennessee Plowboy’s repertoire such as “Tennessee Stud,” “I Couldn’t Believe It Was True,” and “Anytime” also showed up in Watson’s repertoire. These were only a few examples of the eclectic side of Watson’s vocal approach, with emphasis on great material over genre labels.
Given his broad taste, Watson at times put some extra grit into his singing on a number such as “Blue Suede Shoes” from his Jack Williams days of the 1950s, later a concert favorite. But more often he sang songs straight, even on one like “Nights in White Satin,” a 1967 pop hit by British rockers the Moody Blues. With waltz-time guitar and plain singing, Watson makes the song come across as relevant to himself and listeners as songs by the Delmore Brothers and Jimmie Rodgers.
Watson’s first memories of vocal music came in church, and he prized the straightforward, no-vibrato sounds that carved such songs in his memory.
“If you love music, you have to listen from the time you’re big enough to notice music,” he told me when recording his 1991 GRAMMY-winning CD On Praying Ground.
“If you’re looking for old-time material in songs, those old songs that you heard when you were young were the easiest to put down.”
From his first commercial recordings on, Watson featured gospel numbers such as the a cappella version of “Talk About Suffering” from 1964 and “Down in the Valley to Pray” from 1966. Both radiate belief and unornamented clarity.
More recent listeners may know the latter song as “Down in the River to Pray,” as it was opportunistically relabeled to match a scene in the 2000 hit film, O Brother, Where Art Thou?.
Always A Song Man
Doc Watson had an impressively broad range of musical interests, perhaps markedly so, given the period in which he came along.
Country or folk music didn’t start appearing on commercial records until Watson was about two years old. In childhood he listened to down-home picking as well as church and gospel songs. It wasn’t until the 1930s that the family owned a radio that let them hear music beyond their 78-rpm record collection.
Virtually every great musician is a song collector at heart. And like Bob Dylan, Watson took on songs from tradition and added new elements. Take the mournful ballad “Omie Wise,” based on a North Carolina murder from the early 19th century.
In the 1920s notable old-time artists G.B. Grayson and Clarence Ashley recorded it with modal accompaniment that was neither truly major nor minor. When Watson recorded in the 1960s, he ventured into folky, arpeggiated picking that put it squarely into minor-chord territory, opening up the song to young folkies who couldn’t play fiddle like Grayson or banjo like Ashley.
In fact, Watson’s playing on “Omie Wise” occupied the same guitar realm as folk star Joan Baez’s playing on “East Virginia” and other traditional songs.
He also tuned into compositions by folk musicians Bob Dylan (“Don’t Think Twice It’s All Right), Tom Paxton (“The Last Thing on My Mind,” “Leavin’ London,” and “Bottle of Wine”), and Townes Van Zandt (“If I Needed You”).
Watson isn’t chiefly known as a songwriter, but he enjoyed notable success with “Your Lone Journey,” which he wrote with wife Rosa Lee. The starry duo of Led Zeppelin frontman Robert Plant and bluegrass’s own Alison Krauss released it as “Your Long Journey,” leading to what biographer Huffman called significant royalties for the family.
Watson’s greatest legacy in songs may have come with the wealth of lasting favorites – just a few are “Deep River Blues,” “I Am a Pilgrim,” “Banks of the Ohio,” “House Carpenter,” and “Shady Grove” – that made their way into the folk, old-time and bluegrass repertoire and could otherwise have been forgotten.
Ambassador for the Old-Time Way
This role for Watson may be the hardest to pin down, as it overlaps with almost all the others. By cleaving to his Appalachian heritage while also making the most of decades of change, Doc Watson was able to introduce countless fans to a rich, living culture.
“I don’t live in the past,” Watson told me in 1991. “I still burn wood in a furnace at the house, but I have heat ducts and a blower on it just like an oil furnace.
“I love to burn wood and I love to split wood. There’s a few of the old-timey things I love to do. I like good dried-apple pie and I like ‘leather britches’ beans.
“And I like to be at home, dadburn it. I hate the road.”
Watson’s long career of traveling to take his music to listeners, often in the company of his beloved son, Merle, nourished their taste for music that he built upon sold timbers of musical tradition.
Wade Smith, a legendary Tar Heel lawyer, told me once about his first experience of hearing Watson, at a small coffeehouse in downtown Raleigh in 1965.
“What word would I choose to describe how I felt?” Smith said for a later Raleigh News & Observer story. “Electrified, stunned at the speed of his fingers and the way he played single strings, and the clarity of the sound. Each note was like a piece of gold, so amazing.
“We stayed to the last note. When we left, I remember thinking that I had never heard anything like it and that in some way I had been changed by it, that I was in an altered state of existence.”
Watson’s national and international impact becomes more impressive given that he wasn’t heard outside his North Carolina stomping grounds until his late 30s. That’s when he honed his broad range of expertise into a mountain-based style that captivated and often amazed listeners at first hearing.
When the Society for American Music, a distinguished non-profit scholarly and educational organization, made Watson an honorary member in 2012, musicologist and musician Greg Reish paid tribute to Watson’s broad impact.
“As I discovered more of America’s traditional musical styles through my teenage years, Doc Watson always seemed to be at the core, an entrée into both older and newer styles,” Reish wrote. “Through Doc’s music I found my way to the pre-war music of the Carter Family, Jimmie Rodgers, and the Skillet Lickers; to the first-generation bluegrass of Bill Monroe and Flatt & Scruggs; to the classic country of Merle Travis, Chet Atkins, and Eddy Arnold; to the country blues of John Hurt and Frank Hutchison; and to the contemporary and progressive flatpicking of Clarence White, Norman Blake, and Tony Rice.”
Huffman’s book quotes the great bluegrass musician Roland White as he talked about the way his guitarist brother Clarence was caught up in Watson’s flatpicking after hearing him at California’s Ash Grove club.
“After seeing Doc, his picking became an obsession, an everyday part of everyday life. To play music and practice every day. Whether we played gigs or not, he was always playing music.”
Sixty years after White’s epiphany, Doc Watson’s music continues to gain and inspire new followers, whether through the picking and testimony of contemporary players such as Sutton and Springs, or through his own dozens of albums and videos. His legacy of tradition and innovation still flows like one of the ancient streams that nourish his cherished mountainsides.
Thomas Goldsmith is an award-winning journalist based in Tennessee and North Carolina. In addition to producing many hundreds of articles for newspapers and magazines, he edited The Bluegrass Reader and authored Earl Scruggs and Foggy Mountain Breakdown: The Making of an American Classic, both for the University of Illinois Press.
In 1853, a 29-year-old Parisian photographer, Adolphe-Alexandre Martin, delivered a paper to the French Academy of Sciences. In his text, he proposed a process for creating a photographic image on thin, chemically coated metal sheets: the tintype. Between the late 19th and early 20th centuries, his invention became the portrait medium of choice, especially across North America, eventually falling out of fashion in the 1930s. Strikingly evocative, tintypes imbue subjects with a surreal, dreamlike quality, offering an emotional portal into the past.
Over a century and a half later, the New Orleans-based Haitian American singer-songwriter Sabine McCalla, younger sister of the influential classical and folk musician Leyla McCalla, asked the tintype revival photographer Meg Turner to take her portrait. For an artist who draws from the past while seeking pathways forward, using an old medium to capture something new was an instinctive choice. Turner’s image became the cover art and a lodestar for the central feelings underpinning McCalla’s debut album, Don’t Call Me Baby, released through Kurt DeLashmet and Nick Shoulders’s Gar Hole Records label.
As we discuss later in this interview, the inspiration for Don’t Call Me Baby wasn’t born from a happy moment. Rather than sinking into sadness, McCalla juxtaposes joy and heartbreak, using narrative storytelling as a vehicle for catharsis across nine haunting, surreal songs. On “Sunshine Kisses” she recalls being lost in liminality after a breakup before letting loose on the classic rock and roll slanted singalong “Louisiana Hound Dog” (a co-write with Dan Auerbach from The Black Keys and Pat McLaughlin). By the time “Two of Hearts” arrives, our protagonist is singing about three different suitors.
Amid the paradisiac instrumentation surrounding her soothing voice, McCalla and her producers, Sam Doores (of The Deslondes) and Ajaï Combelic, collaborate with a cast of more than a dozen musicians from her musical community in New Orleans. Together, they blend rhythm & blues, country, folk, jazz, Tropicália, quiet storm soul, and doo-wop into hypnotic roots music. Song by song, the results reflect a lifetime spent studying traditions from across the Americas, Europe, the Caribbean, and Africa. Equal parts comforting, adventurous, and spicy, she serves up an Americana hotpot that speaks to the world while being informed by it.
Last month, McCalla joined BGS on a video call. Sitting on a yellow couch surrounded by rosebud-hued walls and framed art, she spent just under an hour with us. In a discursive conversation, we explored the influence of life in Louisiana, her passion for musical history, and, given her background, the inevitability of her worldly confluence of sensibilities. A thoughtful speaker, McCalla isn’t the type to rush her answers. She’s also happy to keep a point simple or, when needed, throw in some extended anecdotes. Sometimes it’s not that deep; other times, it really is.
How important is a sense of place and location to your music?
Sabine McCalla: I don’t know. I mean, it is important. Louisiana and New Orleans have been characters in, or influenced my music a lot. But I’ve certainly written songs outside of New Orleans and Louisiana. I think any land we connect with is important when we’re writing songs.
From the outside looking in, it’s easy to surmise that there is a quality to New Orleans and the musical community that lives there that unlocked something in your artistry.
Yeah, it’s definitely been very inspiring. New Orleans is a very musical city. Nearly everyone you meet is a musician or plays more than one instrument. It’s incredibly culturally rich here. Learning to play music in this environment, you learn certain styles, or you learn with a focus on dancing. There’s a lot of rhythm & blues, soul, and second-line music, and people dancing in the street. I think dancing is something I was thinking of when I thought about how I want these songs to be listened to. Like I’m thinking of a honky-tonk dive bar, hot and steamy, lots of close dancing.
Who says you can’t dance to misery, right?
You certainly can. In fact, you’re probably a better dancer.
There’s something about the juxtaposition between a sad sentiment and a happy rhythm or melody that can be so moving.
I think innately we all want to experience pleasure, and we all have our pains that go with it. I think that’s what people are connecting with.
Unfortunately, or perhaps, fortunately, what is pleasure without pain?
Just a high.
New Orleans looms large in my mind as one of those places where traditions have been kept alive that don’t still exist elsewhere.
Yeah, for sure. There’s a tradition of passing down songs. There’s also so much space to create music here.
Don’t Call Me Baby is an ambitious album, but you succeed in your ambitions. You’ve braided a lot of threads together: different places, genres, periods of time. Was there a specific time in your life when you became interested in musical history, or looking to the past to find new ways to go forward?
I grew up playing classical music. Then I studied some old-time music from Appalachia. I’m interested in learning lots of old songs. I like listening to Harry Smith’s Anthology of American Folk Music. I feel like I’ve dug into a lot of pre-war recordings throughout the South and been inspired by ballad singing.
Like many people, I learned about the Anthology of American Folk Music through Bob Dylan and Joan Baez. There’s something about songwriters who go back and listen to their influences’ influences.
Totally. Shape-note singing is coming back into fashion now. I keep hearing about shape-note festivals around the country. My drummer, Howe Pearson, who also plays in The Deslondes, has been hosting a shape-note singing workshop every Monday.
What was it about the Anthology of American Folk Music that excited you?
They were songs I’d never heard before. I liked the quality of the voices on tape. So emotive and raw. And not just the Harry Smith anthology, Alan Lomax recordings too. I’ve always been interested in ethnomusicology. When I was younger, my sister and I had a mentor who played a lot of blues and jazz. I remember thinking he wrote these songs, until I realized, no, this white man from New Jersey did not write these songs. There’s this beautiful history of Black people in America who sang the blues and jazz and wrote so many songs that have been passed down.
Sometimes I wonder about the impact recorded music had on community singing. I’ve read that after phonograph records turned up, people became more self-conscious about singing at home. They’d hear these great singers and a shyness would set in.
People were keeping the songs they heard alive. They lived when there was no radio, so they were better keepers of songs than we are today. Now everything is so fast. There’s so much music, AI music, the industry pushing constant output, and not reviving songs. But I think a new resurgence of song revivals is happening.
You grew up in a Haitian family in New Jersey. Were your parents encouraging about music?
Yes and no. My sister’s also a musician. My mom was like, “Leyla’s the musician. You need to figure out your own path.” I was like, “No, I think I want to do this.” Both of my parents always encouraged choosing your own path and focusing on it.
It’s not always immediately obvious, but there’s a strong Haitian influence in American music.
Yeah, the Fugees! Lauryn Hill went to my high school. Her album The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill is like a bible to me. It’s a perfect album – the intros, outtakes, transitions. Lyrically empowering. I grew up on her songs. I’m grateful for my high school. We had amazing music teachers.
I graduated with SZA and Dave Authors, and a few others who’ve done great things. My sister Leyla McCalla went there, too. New Jersey is incredibly diverse. A lot of people immigrate to New York and then move into the suburbs, which my family did as well.
Did you grow up on a bit of everything musically?
Classical music. School trips to the opera. My parents played the Haitian groups Boukman Eksperyans and RAM. We listened to The Beatles, Bob Marley, and Rod Stewart.
When I think about Americana, I think about this confluence of cultures and musical traditions that came together in the South. When did it become attractive to you?
It all came together naturally. I was focused on pre-war songs, then going through decades of music. When I moved here, I got interested in The Boswell Sisters and songs collected in New Orleans in the early 1900s. Then I learned about Lonnie Johnson, the godfather of rock ’n’ roll. Through studying songs, I realized that it’s all Americana music. It influenced how I sang and created songs.
In a sense, there’s an inevitability to where you arrived.
I originally wrote and sang songs a cappella. That became my EP, Folk. My friends Leonie Evans and Steph Green helped with backup vocals. There wasn’t much thought about creating a larger sound until I met Eli “Paperboy” Reed. I’d already been listening to New Orleans R&B and soul, and when he put chords to my songs, I was like, “Oh, this is the sound I’ve been looking for.” That changed how I thought about songs. I also grew up listening to [the Tropicália singer-songwriter] Caetano Veloso. I’ve been trying to read his book Tropicalism, but there are so many references to Brazilian artists. It’s going to take forever.
After growing up in New Jersey, you moved to New Orleans, where this was all even more concentrated. There was a weekly jam session you’d go to called the All-Star Covered Dish Country Jamboree.
Yes. The first time I went was in 2014, probably in February. Joy Patterson came up to me – she runs it – and said, “I know who you are.” I was like, “Oh no, this lady…” But I loved it. My sister had been living here, so people were like, “Oh, you’re Leyla’s sister.” I think I saw Sam Doores’ doo-wop group with Casey Jane, Camille Weatherford, Emma Eisenhower, Jon Hatchett, and Max Bien Kahn; they did a little doo-wop show. I thought it was so cute. I wanted to know these people. And I’ve ended up working with all of them.
From there, it became a weekly ritual in your life, right?
Yeah, it was like a church. Going to this country night where I could talk about songs with people and hear a lot of old songs: classic country, classic R&B and soul. Those things lit my soul up.
After all these experiences, what’s your understanding of country music and where you could fit into it in 2025?
I don’t know. Maybe giving voice to other women of color who are interested in country music, not just hip-hop or R&B, but a diversity of sounds. I also lived in Ghana growing up, and lots of people listen to country music in Africa. What surprised me was going to Ghana and someone saying, “Where’s your cowboy hat?” I was like, “I’m from New Jersey, not Texas!”
I get the sense that a lot of your music is therapeutic storytelling.
Yeah, it is. It comes from the heart.
What sort of stories do people tell you about their experiences with your music?
The best one was in London. Someone said their friend’s father passed away and left her a boat. She went sailing for three months. They didn’t listen to music for most of it, then one day she put on my record and that’s all they listened to. That made my heart swell. It’s making me tear up now. Another woman told me she’d separated from her husband and, after hearing my music, reached out to him, saying she was ready to compromise. I was like, damn… Hopefully, this music lets people feel they’re not alone in their feelings.
How much has loneliness driven your music?
It’s been a huge component. I value my alone time, but sometimes it’s a detriment when I’m alone too long or ruminating too long.
You need something to break the feedback loop. Tell me about the backdrop to this album?
I was playing with a lot of ideas. Not everything made it onto the record. A friend visited – she’s an amazing stylist – and I wanted to get a tintype photo done by Meg Turner. We did makeup, hair, clothes, jewelry, so much dazzling stuff, so I’d be shiny in the sun. It was hot in New Orleans. Right before taking the photo, I got a text from someone I was dating, and that’s the true look of shock on my face. After I saw the picture, I was like, “Everything needs to be based around this photo.”
It’s an amazing photo.
Right after that, I wrote “Sunshine Kisses” and then I thought, “What else goes with this?”
What sort of ideas did you have about the threads you wanted to bring together in the music?
I was like: What are all my breakup songs? I wanted it to be haunting, but warm. Some songs I wrote during the pandemic felt too cold for this album. I originally wanted to name it Sudden Blue because I was thinking of a colder feeling. But something transpired while making it; the songs were given a new breath by the people I was working with: Sam Doores, Gina Leslie, Roy Brenc, Howe Pearson, and Ajaï Combelic. It was a warm feeling in the room, lots of laughter. And we were doing it during Mardi Gras, during carnival season, which was wild, because we’d play shows at night and then go into the studio in the morning.
It’s amazing how much other people can make a difference to a creative process.
Yeah. We fed off each other. If there’s negativity or self-consciousness, it’s felt in the music. We were all happy to work out ideas and nerd out about music.
Did you have a heartbreak record, not necessarily one you idolized, but a north star to look towards?
A few albums inspired me. Lauryn Hill’s The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill. Fiona Apple’s When the Pawn… There were also songs: Irma Thomas’s hits, and “Andromeda” by Weyes Blood. It’s such a powerful song about all the emotions we face. Feeling lonely, then liking the loneliness, then changing your mind five times a day.
Photo Credits: Lead image by Camille Lenain; album cover tintype by Meg Turner.
The winter season reverberates with deep nostalgia, often based around sensory memories of music and food. Songs and recipes are passed down from generation to generation, allowing people to live in the same sounds and smells as their parents and grandparents. Bluegrass has always had a deep appreciation for a great meal, from “Hot Corn, Cold Corn,” to “Keep My Skillet Good and Greasy.” It’s such an established relationship, we even put together a BGS roundup of “Songs to Whet Your Appetite” a few years ago. For further listening, check out this Apple Music Playlist, Bluegrass Feast: Songs About Food, and our archive BGS Podcast about chefs and their kitchen playlists, The Shift List.
This season, we asked our readers to submit creative writing about the marriage of music and food, to make our ears ring and our mouths water. In this collection, Miriam Story and Shatazha Mattingly remember their grandparents’ singing while cooking up biscuits and empanadas. Stay tuned for fake teeth and flying ladles.
“Six Biscuits, Every Time”
by Miriam Story
It’d be the weekend and we’d have to be up by 7 o’clock for the adults’ errands. Poppy had silver partials on his uppers and lowers, and he’d soak them in Efferdent overnight in a tiny tupperware dish perched on the edge of the sink. They’d stay there until he’d eaten his breakfast, brushed his real teeth, and gelled his wiry hair to this side and that. But in the couple of hours he was partially toothless, he clowned out and sang off-key, delighted and encouraged by groans and grimaces. As Nana’s back curved over the stove, cast iron skillets on every burner and one in the oven, he would bound down the hall like a horse, clapping his hands and hooting. My cousin andI, tucked into bed– this is before they differentiated us: boy and girl– curled away from the white sunshine. And we’d know he was coming. There was no missing it: he would bust open the door doing his vocal warmups for what he called “The Bikit Song.” Gums hidden by his sunken leather cheeks, he’d nuzzle his face into the back of our hair and sing between kisses, how many bikits can you eat in the mornin? how many bikits in a day? And this would go on with no particular melody and no more than those two lines until we sat up, bleary and laughing politely.
Miriam Story originates from Russell Springs, Kentucky. While she enjoys writing about her Appalachian roots, she thinks her favorite subjects are gray beaches, a good pot roast, and Jimmy Carter.Follow Miriam Story on Instagram at @mermstory.
“When Things Were Different”
by Shatazha Mattingly
I watch her start with a twirl around the kitchen, which turns into angelic dance moves. I’m never in the kitchen for the preparation part. That’s okay, because what I love is the creation and the foolishness in between. The kitchen looks the same as always with three potted plants in the windowsill right above the sink – that she always forgets to water – and her fascinating wine red and cheetah print decorations scattered here and there. My only regret is that I’m never allowed to stay more than one to two nights.
The smell of melted butter wafts through the kitchen, her signal to begin sautéing the chopped peppers – for that kick she likes – and the chopped onions ’til softened. She has this specific way that she sprinkles in sofrito and garlic, and she uses the same pose to add in white wine, followed by a can of tomato sauce. She never uses measurements. She always says, “The eyes measure the pit of the stomach.” I don’t even think she knows what that means.
As she works, I pull out my crayons and colorbooks that she hides in the little compartment drawer in the table doors – I think it’s laughable that the table was originally an office desk. But she has a knack for maximizing space with having as few objects as possible.
I sniff the air – the kitchen has become fragrant. She is now fully in her element, and my stomach is grumbling in anticipation. She hits high notes effortlessly, while swaying her hips in tandem with the beat – she’s magical. Later, I will discover that the song she sings with such passion is about a woman who loves a cheating man. I don’t understand why she plays that song first to get her in her zone.
Nevertheless, she has made the kitchen her stage, a performance only I can see. “Sing and dance with me my love,” she says, in that accent that felt like home.
The look I give her in response earns me sympathetic eyes.
She knows the words, without me ever allowing them to flow past my lips. She takes a second, and then giggles while pausing in her dancing to add in the ground beef and an array of seasoning. Still no measurements, and I bet the empanadillas will be just as perfect as always.
She stays focused for a while, cooking the ground beef. After the beef is nice and brown she’ll stir in a smidge of vinegar – dip her finger to taste – and then adjust seasonings by adding salt and pepper if needed. Perfection.
Then, our comfortable bubble goes from her and me, to three.
I hear him before I see him. She is singing – yet another heartbreaking song – while assembling the dough into discs. In all his glory, Abuelito sways his way into the kitchen. He bee-lines straight for her – his air, as he calls her. He dances with her, not skipping a beat, with one hand on her hip and the other in the air. One of his old tricks. As she becomes engrossed in the music, he steals a scoop of the picadillo filling and then steals a kiss as a distraction. I see her watching him out of the corner of her eye, a small smile playing on her lips. But she never allows him to get away with anything. As he tiptoes towards the door, a ladle flies across the kitchen aimed at the back of his head. It misses, but Abuelito pretends to be hurt anyway.
My picture is almost complete; I just need to add clouds and a sun to the sky.
Abuelito can’t stay away too long and eventually sits down with a book at the refurbished table with me. The tobacco and woodsy smell from his aftershave float in the distance between us, while her singing and the music play in the background. She’s standing at the counter, placing calculated scoops of filling to the middle of the dough. My favorite part is when she folds them into what she calls “little half moons” and presses in the edges to seal them. When she dips them into the bubbling oil, she begins dancing again.
Without turning around she says, “You don’t have to understand to feel, love. It’s okay to let the music guide you. Music connects us all in one way or another, just like food can.” Her English comes out crystal clear over the thrums of the music.
I don’t look up, because I can feel his eyes on me, he thinks the same too. He’s different from her though, his words aren’t words at all. It’s silence filled with love and encouragement, and with that – I get up and dance. With her everything feels otherworldly.
An entire song later, she lifts the empanadillas out of the oil and places them on a paper towel that covers a plate. When we sit at the table – originally meant for four – we talk, laugh, sing a little, and eat while basking in the aroma that only this kitchen can provide. I may never understand the words or perfect the dialect, but I’ll always remember how the music feels.
Abuelito is the first to go, and now, I hold her close to my chest. A stylish urn – wine red – her new stage.
Shatazha Mattingly is a first-year MFA student at Western Kentucky University originally from Nashville, Tennessee. She currently writes reviews for advance reader copies by indie authors and has her own book-related column, “The Literary Radar,” with The College Heights Herald. Follow Shatazha Mattingly on Instagram at @shatazha.
Stay tuned for more opportunities to share your own writing or art on BGS in a future collection!
Few musicians have ever moved as fluidly between eras, genres, and generations as Doc Watson. From front-porch duets to grand-stage bluegrass revivals, Watson’s collaborations have a way of dissolving categories entirely.
His flatpicking precision, rhythmic calm, and vocal warmth made him the kind of performer who elevated everyone within earshot – young prodigies, genre pioneers, folk-tradition torch bearers, and musical iconoclasts alike. His reputation as a consummate accompanist was built not on showmanship or flamboyance, but on musical generosity and an intuitive sense of timing, phrasing, and expression that allowed others to shine while retaining his unmistakable voice.
Part of Watson’s power lies in the consistency of his musical identity. He never strained to fit into a new format or trend; instead, others bent gratefully toward his center of gravity. Whether playing an old-time fiddle tune, trading licks with a jazz-influenced mandolinist, or harmonizing with a younger bluegrass singer, he brought a sense of ease and groundedness that anchored every ensemble. That stability gave his collaborators the freedom to explore, improvise, and innovate – knowing Doc would be right there, steady and sure.
This sense of balance between precision and freedom made him a model collaborator for musicians across generations, and his impact can be traced through countless recordings, festival lineups, and mentorships of younger players.
Watson’s influence was not just technical but communal. He could guide a performance without overwhelming it, offering the ideal blend of authority and humility. In his guitar, listeners hear the voice of the North Carolina mountains, the pulse of Appalachian tradition, and the adaptability of a musician able to engage any genre without losing authenticity.
Today, YouTube’s patchwork archive of footage allows us to witness these collaborations anew: small moments of musical connection, sometimes real-time, sometimes reconstructed from archival sources. Below is a curated set of eight standout filmed or recorded collaborations that illustrate Watson’s reach. From storied duets with Chet Atkins or Earl Scruggs to meetings with newer-generation players.
“Roll in My Sweet Baby’s Arms” – Doc Watson, Earl Scruggs & Ricky Skaggs (The Three Pickers)
This relaxed but virtuosic performance features Watson, Scruggs, and Skaggs playing with the ease of a porch jam made public. Watson’s crisp flatpicking forms a warm foundation, while Scruggs’ banjo drives with characteristic agility and Skaggs adds mandolin flourish and bounce.
The trio exhibits mutual respect and joy, and their lines interweave with natural conversation. The recorded performance comes from the 2003 album The Three Pickers. The energy and clarity of the musicianship exemplify Watson’s ability to anchor an ensemble while remaining entirely supportive, a model of intergenerational teamwork. It is a performance that displays the combination of technical mastery and intuitive musical empathy that defined Watson’s career.
“Tennessee Stud” – Doc Watson & Nitty Gritty Dirt Band (Will the Circle Be Unbroken)
Watson’s performance of “Tennessee Stud” on the Will the Circle Be Unbroken project exemplifies his ability to blend seamlessly with both established musicians and a younger ensemble eager to learn from him. His deep, resonant vocals float over understated but fluid flatpicking, supporting the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band’s harmony vocals and rhythmic drive.
Watson’s musical sensitivity allowed for a dialogue that bridged generations, bringing traditional songs into a contemporary context while retaining their original heart and vibrancy. This track also highlights Watson’s ability to adapt to the studio environment, shaping a sound that was both authentic and polished. The 1972 studio album is well-documented, though various YouTube versions may mix studio, rehearsal, or live takes.
In this medley, Watson and Chet Atkins engage in a playful, masterful guitar dialogue. Watson’s flatpicking exhibits crisp, percussive articulation, while Atkins’ thumb picking introduces a smooth, jazz-inflected counterpoint. Both artists navigate tempo and dynamics with precision, creating a performance that is both technically dazzling and deeply musical.
The track appears on the Reflections album and while some online performances derive from live shows or reissued audio, the studio recording itself exalts the collaborative interplay. This duet demonstrates Watson’s ability to move effortlessly between folk and jazz guitar traditions, honoring both while creating something uniquely their own. The performance underscores his adaptability, an essential quality in a musician sought after by so many genres and generations.
“Black Mountain Rag” – Doc Watson & Merle Watson
The father-son dynamic between Doc and Merle Watson is in full display in this live rendition of “Black Mountain Rag.” Merle’s nimble, rhythmic energy dances atop Doc’s grounded guitar tempo, producing an interplay that is conversational, playful, and intricate. Their shared history and years of touring allow for spontaneous embellishments and musical commentary woven into the tune.
This performance captures the essence of the Watson family legacy, showing how Doc nurtured both musical skill and expressive interpretation in the next generation. The piece also serves as a lesson in ensemble sensitivity, as Doc balances his playing to give Merle ample space while maintaining rhythmic and harmonic cohesion.
“What Would You Give in Exchange for Your Soul?” – Doc Watson & Bill Monroe
Watson and Monroe’s pairing on this traditional tune combines the latter’s piercing, high-lonesome tenor with the former’s warm baritone, creating a striking emotional contrast. Watson’s guitar provides steady, unobtrusive accompaniment, allowing the vocal interplay to take center stage.
This recording exemplifies Watson’s ability to adapt to any partner, responding in real time to vocal phrasing and tempo shifts. The performance demonstrates his interpretive sensitivity, highlighting how he could honor a song’s emotional core while integrating his own stylistic voice.
“Shady Grove / Summertime” – Doc Watson & David Grisman
Watson’s collaboration with David Grisman blends Appalachian folk with progressive acoustic styling. In this rendition of “Shady Grove,” Watson’s rhythmic guitar backgrounds Grisman’s mandolin flourishes, resulting in a lively, conversational back-and-forth. Improvisation is key, as both musicians respond to each other’s phrasing, demonstrating mutual respect and spontaneity.
This collaboration underscores Watson’s versatility, showing he could navigate between traditional melodies and innovative interpretations, elevating both in the process. It is a reminder of his role in bridging traditional and progressive acoustic music for audiences and colleagues alike.
“Amazing Grace” – Doc Watson & Jean Ritchie
Watson and Jean Ritchie’s collaborations were well-established, including performances at venues like Folk City in the early 1960s. However, the specific attribution of some YouTube uploads titled “Amazing Grace” is ambiguous. The Live at Folk City album recording is the most reliable source, showing their complementary styles: Watson’s gentle, precise guitar lines support Ritchie’s clear, expressive vocals, blending Appalachian tradition with personal interpretation. They represent the transmission of Appalachian folk music to wider audiences and the seamless melding of their similar sensibilities.
“Summertime” – Doc Watson & Mark O’Connor
Watson’s influence on multi-instrumentalist Mark O’Connor is well-known; O’Connor cites him as a formative inspiration and their collaboration remains significant as a symbolic bridge between generations. Watson’s teachings and style informed O’Connor’s fiddle mastery, illustrating Watson’s mentorship and the continuity of American acoustic tradition. Indeed, their shared repertoire speaks to the passing of musical knowledge and the sustaining of tradition through personal and professional interaction.
These eight performances above collectively highlight Doc Watson’s role not only as a primary musician, but as a profoundly generous collaborator. He created space for others to excel, whether alongside legends like Bill Monroe, Earl Scruggs, and Chet Atkins or with younger rising stars such as Alison Krauss and Mark O’Connor. Watson’s approach combined technical mastery with emotional intelligence, allowing him to respond intuitively to fellow musicians in real time.
His collaborations illuminate the breadth of his influence. Watson moved with ease between old-time Appalachian tunes, rag medleys, gospel-inflected ballads, rocking hillbilly sounds, and improvised jam sessions. Across these contexts, he remained unmistakably himself: grounded, warm, and adaptable.
By mentoring younger musicians, bridging generations, and seamlessly adapting to new musical contexts, Doc Watson demonstrated that tradition is not static; it is a living, evolving practice. His legacy continues to teach musicians the art of generosity, the importance of listening, and the beauty of musical dialogue. Perhaps in every collaboration, Watson’s spirit resonates, ensuring that his contribution to music endures across time, space, and audience.
Lead image courtesy of MerleFest.
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