Tag: george jones

MIXTAPE: Staci Griesbach’s Great American Songbook of Country Music

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The Great American Songbook of country music is a vast terrain to cherish and celebrate. So vast, in fact, that to narrow it down into one playlist of favorite “picks” is an incredible challenge! That said, I’m sharing here a selection of songs that are some of my all-time favorite lyrics and melodies. (The kind of songs you’d take with you to a desert island.) When you look through this list, it is no doubt that you’ll agree: each one of these songs rightly deserves its space in the pages of 20th century American music history for the mark the songwriters and the musical icons performing them have made. The generations these songs have touched (and hopefully will continue to touch)… the audiences moved by performances, in some cases to tears… all from the impact of a single song. Amazing!

As I hope to do with my Songbook series of recordings, my artistic path honors these songwriters and musical icons in reimagining these songs in a new way, offering an inspired interpretation of some of these classic songs (as you’ll see below). I hope you enjoy a slice of what I like to call “My American Songbook.” — Staci Griesbach

Dolly Parton – “Coat of Many Colors”

Dolly Parton’s “Coat of Many Colors” celebrates its 50th anniversary in 2021, and in my mind, there may be no more perfect storytelling song with a purpose in all of country music. Through the lyrics, Dolly approaches some important underlying themes in her message with this song. From humble beginnings to the love of a mother to encouraging self-talk and faith to the discussion of bullying, this song is so inspiring no matter where you live or what your upbringing was like. Coupled with her incredible human compassion and all she does with her celebrity to make the world a better place, Parton continues to be awesomely inspiring. For my interpretation, we played up the whimsical nature with the Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat reference to also celebrate Dolly’s immense talent in the Broadway space. Fun fact: I was once “Narrator” in the musical production, so there’s a special sort of kismet connection!

Willie Nelson – “Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain”

When a song is recorded by Hank Williams, Roy Acuff, Willie Nelson, and probably hundreds of other artists, you may wish your name was songwriter and country music legend Fred Rose. Willie Nelson’s voice and this song pair so well for me. It’s his renditions — especially the live acoustic ones where he brings the tempo down — that are my favorite.

Patsy Cline – “Crazy”

If you’re going to do a playlist about country music standards, then this one has got to be on the list and perhaps top the list. As the most-played jukebox hit in history, the combination of Willie Nelson’s pen and Patsy Cline’s voice makes for a combination that never gets old.

Merle Haggard – “That’s the Way Love Goes”

Merle Haggard could sing the phone book to me, and I’d fall in love. This classic Haggard tune shows off some of his trademark moves, hitting the low notes with a sense of natural charm that could arguably make any gal swoon. His influence from Lefty Frizzell, who penned the song and had a strong arm in shaping many of country music’s early male voices in terms of style, is clear.

Anne Murray – “Could I Have This Dance”

I’m a sucker for a country waltz and the romantic in me gets caught up in this lyric every time I hear it. While the vocal is more modest in range and dynamic, it’s the sweetness of the tune that makes it feel like you’ve just put on your favorite winter sweater and nestled up to the fireplace.

George Jones – “He Stopped Loving Her Today”

Classified by many as the greatest country song of all time, it’s an exemplary tale of great songwriting paired with incredible talent. The song, the lyrics, and the vocal performance George Jones gives in this tear-stained ballad can’t possibly leave a dry eye in the room, no matter how many times you’ve heard the recording! This was the first song we tackled for my album celebrating Possum’s 90th birthday, and I was thrilled when songwriter Bobby Braddock shared his praise. In my cover version, arranger Jeremy Siskind arguably created a stage for this song to really sit in a spotlight it has never been in before.

Ernest Tubb – “Waltz Across Texas”

Listening to this song play as a young girl, I used to dream of being swept off my feet in love someday, filled with the imagery of waltzing across a big ballroom with someone serenading me. When Ernest Tubb calls out his band members, it feels like you’re right in the room listening as they’re playing. I’ve always enjoyed his iconic characteristics in his sense of showmanship.

Patsy Cline – “Walkin’ After Midnight”

Several songs in Patsy Cline’s catalog can be called standards in country music and this is one of them. A favorite for many girl singers who adore her, Patsy’s swagger comes through in her bluesy vocal performance adding just the right touch of cry to connect us with her desire for finding love. For my cover version, also from arranger and pianist Jeremy Siskind, the song offers more of a meditative groove creating a moodiness that implores a sense of searching matching the lyrics with a more internal reflection.

Ray Price -–”Make the World Go Away”

The great Hank Cochran had a way with songwriting and that’s no secret. One of my favorite songwriters in Nashville history. His songs create a lasting impression, especially this one recorded by Eddy Arnold, Elvis Presley, Martina McBride, and the late great Ray Price.

Tammy Wynette – “‘Til I Can Make it On My Own”

When you put Tammy Wynette, George Richie, and Billy Sherrill in a room, you know a hit song will find its way out of the door. Wynette’s performance is simply stunning here, and this song really showcases her dynamic range as a vocalist. I also really enjoy Martina McBride’s cover on her standards tribute album.

Merle Haggard – “Today I Started Loving You Again”

The poetic nature of Merle Haggard’s catalog cannot be questioned, and while he’s known as the poet of the common man, it’s his love songs that have me right in the palm of his hand. Penned along with Bonnie Owens, this song might top the Haggard catalog for me.

Dolly Parton – “Here You Come Again”

Only recently I became aware that this song was written by the great Cynthia Weil and Barry Mann. I’ve always associated the song with Dolly, and with her incredible songwriting prowess, it was a natural assumption. This is definitely one of my favorite songs in Dolly’s catalog. For my cover, which is the flip side of my Digital 45 with “Coat of Many Colors,” Jeremy Siskind and I explored a ballad context to really bring out the emotional quality of the lyrics and the feelings that bubble up when you’re so in love with someone and forget for a moment that they’re not good for you.

Hank Williams – “Cold, Cold Heart

There’s a lure around Hank Williams like no other in country music. And it’s no surprise when you listen to Williams’ catalog why George Jones and so many others looked up to and tried to emulate Williams at the beginning of their careers. A true country music standard for its number of covers (including Tony Bennett), I’m a huge fan of Norah Jones’ performance.

Patsy Cline – “Lonely Street”

From Kitty Wells, Melba Montgomery, and Emmylou Harris to Ray Price, George Jones, and Tammy Wynette, this song has been recorded many times over. While Andy Williams’ version might have hit the highest notes on Billboard’s charts, it’s Patsy Cline’s heartache-filled performance that is my favorite version. There were a few of her classic hits that didn’t make my tribute album and this one might top that list.

Kris Kristofferson – “Help Me Make it Through the Night”

The stories of Kris Kristofferson and Bill Withers have always touched me in the fact that both of them were working everyday jobs (sweeping floors and working at an airplane parts factory respectively) when their demos catapulted them into the spotlight. I’ve seen Mr. Kristofferson perform this live a few times and my heart melts every time.

Photo credit: Kim Thiel

MIXTAPE: Dori Freeman’s Waltzes for Dreamers and Losers in Love

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Waltzes are my favorite. Can’t explain why, but they touch me in a way that other songs don’t. In honor of my album, Ten Thousand Roses, and its title track, here are twelve of my favorite waltzes — some by dear friends and some by long-gone greats. — Dori Freeman

Erin Rae – “June Bug”

Erin is one of my favorite artists — I just love her voice and the style of her records. This song is so simple (my favorite kind of song), but so sweet and effective lyrically and in the arrangement. The last minute or so of the melody being played on piano is particularly lovely.

Kacy & Clayton – “Down at the Dance Hall”

Kacy and Clayton are dear personal friends and some of the most genuine and truly original people I’ve ever met. This is such a classic-sounding waltz it’s hard to believe it was written only a few years ago. Kacy is also one of my favorite singers *of all time.*

Ric Robertson – “Julie”

Ric is another good friend of mine and easily one of the best songwriters of the time. He writes with a vulnerability and honesty that most people are afraid to share. I also had the privilege of singing harmony on this lovely track with my friend Gina Leslie.

Teddy Thompson – “Over and Over”

I have to include a Teddy song on this playlist since he’s been such a big part of my own music. He produced my first three records and continues to be such a kindred spirit in music making. This song has such a heartbreaking honesty lyrically and a truly haunting arrangement.

Iris Dement – “Sweet Is the Melody”

Iris has one of the most instantly recognizable and unique voices in music. I had this album on cassette tape and used to listen to it driving around in my old Subaru when I was like 19. Such a tender song.

John Hartford/ Tony Rice/ Vassar Clements – “Heavenly Sunlight”

My husband introduced this song to me a few years ago and we’ve been performing it at shows ever since. I never get tired of singing this beautiful song and this is my all-time favorite version. A good gospel waltz is hard to beat.

Linda Ronstadt/ Dolly Parton/ Emmylou Harris – “Hobo’s Meditation”

This song is twofold in its importance to me. First, these are three of the most talented singers ever singing together on one album. All three of these women have had a huge influence on me individually and I think you’d be hard-pressed to find another country singer who wouldn’t say the same. This is also a song that my dad’s band performed and recorded when I was a child. I can vividly remember sitting in the audience listening to them play this song.

The Louvin Brothers – “Blue”

If you want a master class in harmony singing, the Louvin Brothers are it. I love to listen to them dance around each other when they sing, jumping all over the place with grace and finesse. This waltz is a classic heartbreaker with lots of tender swooning falsetto.

George Jones – “Don’t Stop the Music”

Another one of our greatest singers, George Jones. This is one of my husband’s favorite waltzes and makes the cut for me, too. That jump up to the sixth he sings right in the opening gets me every time.

Rufus Wainwright – “Sally Ann”

Most people familiar with my music know that Rufus Wainwright’s music is very dear to my heart. He has a couple beautiful waltzes to choose from, but I included this one from his first record. A weird thing to note perhaps, but I love that you can hear each breath Rufus takes before singing on his recordings.

Lee Ann Womack – “Prelude: Fly”

This album was on heavy rotation when I met my husband in 2016 so when I hear this song I’m reminded of how sweet a time that was. It’s got a special place in my heart. And Lee Ann is one of those singers who makes me cry every time.

Richard Thompson – “Waltzing’s for Dreamers”

My daughter used to like this song when she was littler so that makes it an especially sweet one for me. It has one of my favorite lines — “waltzing’s for dreamers and losers in love.” So funny, so sad, so true.

Photo credit: Kristen Crigger

MIXTAPE: Jeremy Garrett’s Melting Pot of Influential Music

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My mind has been concentrated on making music for my latest record, Wanderer’s Compass. I let Wanderer’s Compass be a collection of as many influences in music I’ve had as possible. I’ve been playing long enough that I used to learn my fiddle parts from an LP and move the needle back to catch the solo parts. Then of course over time, with the advent of the internet, the influence highway, so to speak, became much wider. I’ve always thought it is hard to put music in a box, since it is art, even though I essentially understand the reason for genres. To me the whole point of art is to let all of your influences and experiences be the palette in which to create your vision. This playlist is really fun for me to listen to, and I hope you enjoy it as well. — Jeremy Garrett

Dire Straits – “Where Do You Think You’re Going?”

This song was off a record that I heard early on in my life and the soul that Mark Knopfler brought to this song continues to influence me to this day.

Larry Sparks – “Blue Virginia Blues”

Larry is a master of song delivery, selection, singing, and incredibly soulful guitar playing that is old school, yet crosses any boundaries from that world into the new because art like that knows no bounds.

Tony Rice – “Urge for Going”

From the album Native American, this track is the epitome of how to produce a song to pull all of the essence from it for the listener to hear. Any bluegrass musician can tell you that Tony Rice is the man to listen to for song production, not to mention his unmatched guitar skills.

Jeremy Garrett – “Wishing Well”

“Wishing Well” is an original and on this track I stretch way out on the fiddle for a jam.

David Grisman – “Fish Scale”

David is one of the best and truest musicians of our time. This is a one-of-a-kind song from a one-of-a-kind artist, David Grisman. I particularly love Tony Rice’s playing on this track.

The Stanley Brothers – “The Lonesome River”

This is one of history’s most eerie and interesting sounding bluegrass duos. Their songs and the way they sing them are my personal favorite sounds of the traditional bluegrass era.

Strength in Numbers – “Blue Men of the Sahara”

This ensemble was one of the most creative in acoustic music. This particular song showcases what happens when you marry music stylings from around the globe, and Mark O’Connor rips a fiddle like nobody’s business.

Merle Haggard and Willie Nelson – “Pancho and Lefty”

This cut is pure magic if you ask me. I love everything about it, from the wacky-sounding synth stuff to the magic that Haggard brings when he comes in for his verse. Sends chills up my spine.

George Jones – “Choices”

There may not be any better country singing than this right here.

Jimi Hendrix – “Red House”

There is perhaps no one more inspiring to a musician who wants to tap into soul and vibe. Hendrix is the one who paved the way for all of us in that regard.

Deep Forest – “Sing with the Birds”

This music was an indicator for me at an early age that I loved world music and the technology that continues to evolve to help create some of it. This is programming at its finest and it’s flowing with creativity.

Jeremy Garrett – “Nevermind”

This is a Dennis Lloyd cover that I love to perform. Dennis is an Israeli pop artist. It’s a culmination of my bluegrass chops on fiddle, guitar, mandolin, along with effects, experimentation, and programmed beats.

Photo credit: J.Mimna Photography

With New Music and Rock ‘n’ Roll Spirit, Jakob Dylan Revives The Wallflowers

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Dedicated fans of the Wallflowers weren’t the only ones eager to hear new music from Jakob Dylan. Leading into the sessions for the new album, Exit Wounds, the band’s front man showed up with a batch of new material that even producer Butch Walker hadn’t heard yet.

“I don’t usually play my stuff before I get in the studio,” Dylan tells BGS. “If you have some rehearsals, yeah, you’ll work it up, but that’s one of the most exciting things for me. It’s like, I’ve got a secret here. I can’t wait to show up and show it to people I’m going to play with. I can’t wait to see the expressions on people’s faces — and I’m usually right. When something lights me up, it usually lights up other people.”

So far, the music from Exit Wounds has already been lighting up the late-night circuit. Next up is a national tour that begins in August. A few days before the album release, Dylan called in to BGS to talk about singing with Shelby Lynne, the music documentary Echo in the Canyon (for which he served as executive producer), and why he’s a better singer now, 25 years after “One Headlight” was the band’s inescapable radio smash.

BGS: What do you remember about the vibe in the studio as this record was coming together?

Dylan: There are all kinds of different situations that can birth a good record. I think starting out, you believe that things are supposed to be difficult and maybe even combative in the studio to get good things out of everybody. But I can confirm that I don’t think that is true. I don’t know that I ever thought it was true. On this record, the energy and the vibe was good from Day One and it persisted throughout. It was one of those things of having simultaneously what I considered a joy-making record but feeling like we were stretching out and doing great things.

You have a refreshed lineup in the band, too. When you are auditioning for the band, what are you listening for?

Well, I’m not sure that it’s a new lineup. It never has been a lineup, to be honest. The band made its first record in 1992 and that disintegrated pretty quickly by the time we got to Bringing Down the Horse [their 1996 breakout album]. That was already a new group of people and it continued on that path ever since. It was always designed to be my group. I always knew that was going to be the case. It’s been an evolution since then. There hasn’t been one lineup of this group that’s made two records, so it just continues on in that fashion.

But what am I looking for in players? Well, it’s not technique. It’s not technical abilities. I mean, I play rock ‘n’ roll music, [Laughs] so there’s just a little bit of room for that. But you’re just looking for the spirit in people, you know? A lot of people play great. There’s loads and loads of good musicians out there. I’ve worked with lots of them and we don’t have chemistry together sometimes. That’s disappointing, but first and foremost you look for people who listen to the same kind of music as you do, who have the same kind of shorthand in conversation. Then it’s really not that complicated afterwards, once you get that together.

It surprised me hearing Shelby Lynne come in on that first track, “Maybe Your Heart’s Not in It No More.” And she makes a few more appearances on the album, too. What does her voice bring out in this record?

I’m really grateful that she almost became a member of the group on the record. Butch Walker and I thought of her singing on the song, “Darlin’ Hold On.” But everything felt so good when she got there, and honestly, she finished that song in about 15 minutes. We said, “Well, you’re here. We’re just going to keep throwing songs at you if you’re OK with that.” And it just turned into, like, wow, she kind of became a member of the group, which I’m really glad about. I’m not the biggest fan on guest vocalists, necessarily. I mean, it is good at times but if you can get that person to be singing throughout, they’re part of the sound and the blend. I’m glad we were able to work that out with Shelby.

Let’s talk about songwriting a little bit. When you go to write these songs, is it just an acoustic guitar and a notebook? What does that look like as you’re writing?

Yeah, just like you said. The beginnings of it come from anywhere but the good ones come when you least expect it. When you actually make the effort to sit down write a song, that can be very frustrating and disappointing. But the good ones, you could be in your car or walking your dog. You don’t know. It comes from a conversation you heard and you can tell that is the germ of a song and it will nag at you until you can figure it out. And usually the best ones do come at once. I’ve had plenty of pages without lyrics without melody and it’s very hard to find places for those. Words themselves have melody in them — they have inherent melody. That’s why it’s best when they follow a simple chord pattern. When you’re younger, you’re hung up on trying to find interesting chord structures and patterns, “let’s put a minor here….” At the end of the day, there’s some use for a lot of that but keeping it simple and shooting straight is usually your best option.

Would you consider yourself to be influenced by country music?

For sure. I think we’re all a little confused about what country music is right now — and for a while now. When you say country music now, we all think of different things. George Jones for sure. … Not unlike Shelby, that voice is just special. They gave him all the awards for being the singer that he was, and the records were great, but I have to say I got to see him play one time, out here in L.A., and I was knocked off my feet. A lot of people modulate on that last verse, but I watched him take a breath and move it up a whole step in the middle of the song, which I was unfamiliar with. I thought it was pretty cool. You know, I can’t define to you what country music is. Is it hillbilly music? Is it the Louvin Brothers? I don’t really know what that term means so much anymore. I don’t know that it’s what we see on TV so much. But I tip my hat to everybody who’s doing it, either way.

When the Wallflowers were right out of the gate, vinyl wasn’t really around anymore, but this new record is coming out on vinyl. Are you a vinyl collector?

Yeah, I am. I’ve got a good turntable and I’ve got a tube amp, and always have. You’re right, though. That’s a complicated market. What gram of vinyl — there’s a lot of marketing going on. But I do like the act of doing it, as we all say. There’s a different mindset when you choose that record and put it on. But at the end of the day, as far as the quality of music, I just want to hear the music. Yeah, vinyl does sound the best, but I’ll listen to MP3s and I’ll listen to YouTube.

But there is something special about vinyl. When we started out, they weren’t making vinyl. They were making CDs with that big cardboard piece. Remember that? I think a couple of our records were on cassettes and that’s a long time ago. I just want to hear the song at the end of the day and I’m highly suspicious of the ways they keep making us buy the same music we have over and over again. [Laughs]

It’s clear you have a reverence for music from that vinyl era when you watch Echo in the Canyon. Looking back, what surprised you the most about putting that movie together?

I didn’t know documentaries took so long, I’ll tell you that. They’re a lot of work! But it’s interesting because you don’t have a script, you just have an idea. As you’re interviewing people, they say something interesting and you find yourself going down another path. It unfolds as you go. That’s exciting and frustrating at the same time. Some things don’t make the cut because they don’t fit the story that you were developing. Not that I didn’t have a fond appreciation for people putting films together, but it was good to see how that works and how it functions.

It was a good experience and obviously I got to talk to a lot of people. Some I knew a bit, some I knew a lot, and some I didn’t know at all. But it was a good opportunity to step out my own shoes and sit on the other side of the glass like you guys do. Sometimes it was a little daunting. I didn’t want anybody to be uncomfortable and regret showing up. That was the main mission, to be honest, but there wasn’t anybody that we tried to get involved that wasn’t interested. At the time, you’re just piecing it together and you’re appreciative that it’s going well. But I look at it now and I think it was pretty remarkable that we were able to get all those people together.

I think the melodies are a big reason those songs will live on. After spending so much time with the music of that era, did that influence the way you wrote for this record?

It just reconfirmed what I already knew: Don’t go to the studio if you don’t have good songs. It’s simple. That is why those records and those songs are so everlasting. They’ve got good bones and everything’s together. … They’re just great songs. They’re very pliable. I got to explore being a singer [in the film], which I hadn’t really done before. I sing my songs great because I wrote ‘em. I don’t consider my voice an instrument but I had to learn to do that with this big chunk of songs that were mostly done by really great singers. I discovered that I could do more with my voice than I imagined.

Your voice still sounds great, though. Twenty-five years or more into this, you still sound like you.

I appreciate that. I think I sound like myself, but I think I’m a better singer than I was because of Echo. I hear some of my earlier stuff and I can tell how limited I must have been. I can hear myself avoiding notes that I probably couldn’t get to, and it’s interesting to hear that. I can do more things now. But I am aware that people, after doing it quite a while, do start sounding quite different, whether it’s stylistic choices or just age. Sometimes for the better and often for the worse. But I don’t think I’m far enough along yet where you can say, “He doesn’t sound like he used to.” Maybe eventually. [Laughs] I try to treat my voice well and it’s mostly always been there for me. I’ve been very fortunate. I can’t say I treat it as well as I could but it hasn’t failed me yet.

Photo credit: Andrew Slater

Hiss Golden Messenger’s ‘Quietly Blowing It’ Blends N.C. Warmth With L.A. Glow

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When M.C. Taylor decided to make another Hiss Golden Messenger album, he instinctively knew it needed to be done in real time, in an actual studio, in his adopted hometown of Durham, North Carolina. Recorded in the summer of 2020, Quietly Blowing It reflects a joyful spirit even as a fog of anxiety hung over the sessions. And in some ways, Taylor believes that a sense of tension is what this album is all about.

But in contrast to the image of making a million minor mistakes, Quietly Blowing It may be his most accessible album yet. (His prior effort, 2019’s Terms of Surrender, landed a Grammy nomination for Best Americana Album.) As he’s done for years, Taylor asks a lot of questions in his lyrics without filling in the answer. One could say that he positions himself as a moderator who introduces a conversation, rather than an expert who knows everything about everything.

“That’s always been the way that I write,” he tells BGS. “I’ve been talking for many years about this idea of making an album that’s full of questions with no answers. In a lot of ways, I’m less interested in the answer than I am in the question, if that makes sense. Because the answer might change from day to day. I find the question often to be the thing remains steady, more or less.”

Not long before heading back to his native California to finally visit his family there, Taylor caught up with BGS by phone about Quietly Blowing It, releasing June 25.

BGS: One of the reasons I like listening to “Sanctuary” is because you can hear the band in the groove, in the space between the verses. It makes it feel like a band record.

Taylor: I think for the type of music that I make, the best light that it can be shown in is when you can hear everybody working together. The music is a collective music and it thrives on the collective energy of the players. That’s why I was hesitant to jump into making anything totally remotely. If my options were to either record remotely or do nothing, I would have chosen not to make a record because that collective energy feels really important to this music.

The second time I listened to this album all the way through, I really noticed the drums. It’s like its own energy coming through. Did you feel that too?

Yeah, in a lot of ways the record was written around the drum parts. I spent a lot of time coming up with the way I wanted the drums to work, at home, and sketching out drum patterns and drum parts, and layering different percussive elements over that. Then I brought those ideas to the two people that played all that stuff: Matt McCaughan played the drum kit and a friend of mine named Brevan Hampden played a lot of the percussion. It was meant to feel like this churning machine, almost. You know what I mean? A lot of the parts are pretty simple, but they’re sympathetic to the songs. Simple in theory, but very hard to play in a way that swings as hard as Matt and Brevan do.

To me, “Hardlytown” is about people who are staying the course against a world that’s pushing back against them. Is that pretty close to what that song is about?

Yeah, that song is addressing this idea of the way that we set up the systems in order to live our lives the way we think we want to. And how, so often, what we give feels like more than what we get back. There are many ways to do that math, of course. When I started out being a musician, I spent way more than I made back. That was like the first 15 years of my life as a musician, playing out in public.

However, there’s the whole existential math. [Laughs] Where you start to factor in joy and spiritual payoff, and that becomes another set of equations that start to figure into it all. I was trying to work my way through that, “Hardlytown” being the place where maybe you don’t get back what you put into it, but you keep at it anyway. It’s meant to be a little salty around the edges but it’s meant to be a song of hope. It may not be unqualified hope, but I think the heart of that song is a certain kind of hope.

There’s a line in that song that says, “People, get ready / There’s a big ship coming,” and that reminded me of your love of Curtis Mayfield. Why does his music resonate with you?

He’s the whole package to me. He has an absolute command of groove. His arrangements are so elegant and affecting. He really knew how to make you feel something, and his writing is second to none, in terms of finding that sweet spot between the sacred and the everyday. I’ve said this a lot lately, but he was really good about singing about the potential of hope. You think about the time during which songs like “People Get Ready” were written. It’s hard to imagine there was an abundance of hope for him and the communities that he moved through. But they somehow continued to write these songs that feel anthemic, in the way that they talk about the potential of hope, and how important hope is to carry, even if you can’t fly the flag at the particular hope at that moment.

In the video for “If It Comes in the Morning,” you have Mike Wiley, a Black actor, lip-syncing to your track. Why did that treatment appeal to you?

It’s been interesting to hear certain reactions to that video. First of all, Mike Wiley is a friend of mine that I’ve been doing work with, off and on, for over a decade. He’s an incredible stage actor. And I knew that I wanted somebody to be looking directly into a camera as they lip-synced the words. So, my thought was, who can stare into a camera for the duration of the song without flinching? And not have crazy camera eyes? I can’t do that, I don’t have that skill set. You put a camera on me for more than three minutes and I start to look like George Jones or something. [Laughs]

So, my intuition was to get in touch with Mike Wiley. He’s an expert at that. It certainly was not lost on me that Mike Wiley is a Black actor, so there was going to be added layers of information with that video. And heightened interpretations because of the moments we are living through collectively. I’ve heard some people say, “I don’t get this video. What is this video trying to say or do?” And plenty of people have not commented either way, whatever, they like the song. Other people have been angry about it. But when I see the video, I see my buddy Mike Wiley lip-syncing the words and Mike happens to be an extremely gifted actor who is Black.

What does the word “it” represent in that title, “If It Comes in the Morning”?

I mean, it depends. “It” could be victory, defeat. If things go my way in the morning, how am I going to behave to people that were on my side, or people who were on the other side? If defeat arrives in the morning, how am I going to behave to people that I was working with, or to people who were working against me? I was thinking about how I might behave to someone that might be my adversary in some situation. Would I behave with respect? Or would I kick sand in their face? I like to think the former, but sometimes I think the latter. And that’s a “quietly blowing it” moment. [Laughs]

How would you describe the room where you wrote these songs?

It’s about 10 feet by 12 or 14 feet. It’s pretty small and it’s full of guitars, books, records, and sometimes a drum kit and amplifiers. Depending on my mood, it can feel like an oasis or like a prison cell. [Laughs]

During that time when we were all staying home, I spent a lot of time on the greenway. Did you get a chance to get outside, too?

Yeah, we got outside a fair bit. We have a pretty big backyard. Durham is full of green spaces, so yeah, I found the outdoors to be a balm over this past year. No question about that. We did a lot of camping this year, and that was fun also.

How did you wind up in Durham?

Many years ago, I went to grad school at UNC. This was back in 2007 and my wife and I just ended up staying. I don’t even remember what our intention was, whether we thought we were going to stay for a long time or move somewhere else. But this was pre-kids and over time North Carolina just started to feel like home. We bounced around this region a lot. We lived in Chapel Hill first and we lived outside of a small town called Pittsboro. Then we gravitated towards Durham. It’s a perfect-sized down in my opinion. Lots of incredible food, art, music, so this is where we ended up and it feels like home.

Before this band took off, I’m sure you were doing a lot of odd jobs. I think I read at some point that you were selling swimsuits over the phone?

Yeah, I did. That was a long time ago, back in college in California. I didn’t last. I was selling women’s swimsuits over the phone. Like, I was a 22-year-old guy and didn’t know the first thing about anything about that. [Laughs] I had no business answering those telephones. They should not have had me there. They didn’t have me there for long. They fired me after two weeks. They could tell I was the wrong person for the job.

You’ve said elsewhere that you still feel the pull of California. Is that why the video for “Glory Strums” looks the way it does?

Yes, it is. In normal times I would be in California many times a year. California is where most of my family still lives. Like many people, I haven’t seen them since this all started and my kids haven’t seen my parents in almost two years. I’m really pining for California in a way that I haven’t before. Because I’ve traveled to California so frequently, I’ve kept that homesickness at bay. It never affected me because I knew that within the next month or two months I would be out there again. I haven’t been out there for a year and a half and I can really feel it.

It made me think about this article in the New Yorker in 1998 called L.A. Glows. It’s about a native Californian meditating on the light in Southern California. I remember reading it at the time and thinking it was interesting. I understood this theory that different places could have different qualities of light that would affect people that knew that place. But now I can feel that on an emotional level.

How did that video come together?

Vikesh Kapoor is the director and he is someone I have known for many years. Back in 2013 or 2014, I was playing in Portland, Oregon, opening up for Justin Townes Earle, and I was traveling alone. I was looking for someone to sell merch for me, so I put out a call on social media, I think. Vikesh volunteered to do it and we met that night at the merch table, where he sold my stuff. We kept in touch after that. He’s a songwriter himself and he’s made a few great records. And he’s a pretty respected photographer.

I knew that he was living in Los Angeles now and I got this wild hair that I thought Vikesh could make a video. We talked a lot about the light – the hazy, Southern California quality of light that I was missing. I asked him whether he thought he could get that into the video and he did, to his great credit. He didn’t have a whole lot to go on. [Laughs] He made something that is really beautiful and it does speak to the place where the video was made.

During that time when you were touring solo, what did you like most about just you and the road?

I still do that kind of touring once in a while, just to get that feeling again. I mean, there’s something about being footloose out on the road that can be really exhilarating, even still. I’m one of those people that picked up Jack Kerouac’s On the Road and Desolation Angels when I was 17 years old and read them. I was just like, yep, this is the life for me. And the older I get, it’s a complex life, living your life on the road. You’ve got to work to take care of yourself, which I don’t think a lot of those Beat Generation writers did very well. But there remains a romance of just traveling through.

One thing I’ve noticed about this record, though, is that there’s a lot of other voices singing with you. What do you like about that?

I love the human voice as an instrument. Just like instruments, every human voice is different and resonates differently. It affects a microphone differently. I think that voices singing in harmony can really elevate a melody. It adds a very important color to a record, for me. We did have a bunch of voices on this record. It’s a pretty magical sensation to be able to sing in harmony with someone. It’s like an electric jolt is running through you.

Photo credit: Chris Frisina

MIXTAPE: Jeffery Straker’s “How the Heck Did I Get Here?” Playlist

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It’s been a year and a month since I got back from my last tour in pre-pandemic times (as we now refer to it). I was winding through the Okanagan Valley in British Columbia, Canada, performing a run of seven shows. The month of March in the Okanagan usually has summer-like weather and the temperatures on this trip delivered and then some. Even though I was working, the mountains, valleys, and blue skies reflected in lakes made it feel like a vacation during those long drives with music humming along on the car stereo.

Working full-time as a touring musician is a really busy lifestyle. If you’re not writing new material you’re getting ready to release songs, you’re promoting songs, planning a tour, going on tour — the cycle is endless. As a result, some of the only time I have for my mind to rest somewhat idle is on the long drives between gigs. I see it as a bit of a gift. The music accompanying my travels helps me get a little lost for just a little while. Sometimes I arrive at the next place wondering “how the heck did I get here?” Here are some of the songs that I’ve enjoyed getting lost in. — Jeffery Straker

Jason Isbell – “Traveling Alone”

Often when I’m out on the road I’m traveling alone, or with a side-musician who is asleep in the passenger seat. Isbell sings about being a traveler missing someone he loves, and about reflections on some of the life decisions he’s made. “So high the street girls wouldn’t take my pay, they said come see me on a better day, she just danced away.” It’s perfect fodder for a freed up mind to wander within.

Joni Mitchell – “A Case of You”

Joni released this in 1971. When I first heard it I just loved that within the first few seconds of the song she sang “if you want me I’ll be in the bar”. Who writes like that? She does. I’ve never figured out the meaning of “I could drink a case of you and I would still be on my feet”. It’s perfectly vague. Does it mean “I could never get enough of you”, or does it mean “I’ll never be drunk on your love because it’s not enough”?

John Prine – “Egg & Daughter Nite, Lincoln Nebraska, 1967 (Crazy Bone)”

This is such a visual romp for me. Prine sings about how farmers would bring their daughters with them to town to sell eggs and the gals would head to the local roller rink. It’s so specific, but he delivers this great universal ponderance through chronicling this quirky event: “When you got hell to pay, put the truth on layaway, and blame it on that ol’ crazy bone.”

George Jones – “He Stopped Loving Her Today”

My grandma and grandpa loved this song and so many of the songs like this from the same era of country. It’s such a “story-song.” It’s so sad and the steel guitar with the string section accompanying it is such a perfect pairing. That ascending string line at the start of the chorus really heightens the emotions too; I hear it and wonder who thought of that line? George? The producer? George breaks into a spoken-word second verse and brings even more intimacy — you literally lean in closer to the speaker. Those feelings for the one he loves never go away until the day he dies. It just grabs you and doesn’t let go.

Brandi Carlile – “The Joke”

Stratospheric vocals, brooding piano, and a riveting story. It’s all here. Carlile is passing along some advice to young children who don’t quite fit in. They’re probably from the LGBTQ community, but certainly from any marginalized group. “Let ’em laugh while they can. Let ’em spin, let ’em scatter in the wind. I have been to the movies, I’ve seen how it ends, and the joke’s on them.” Riveting stuff and you want to hit repeat.

Lori McKenna – “The Lot Behind St. Mary’s”

In the wake of my mom passing away just over two years ago, I discovered Lori through her song, “A Mother Never Rests.” It’s perfect. And through that song I found this one that really struck me; it’s from the same album. She very fluidly goes back and forth between “younger days” and the present, both longing for the past and accepting the present.

Jeffery Straker – “Play That Song Again”

This is the latest single I released from my upcoming album; it’s a waltz. This song, like the album, is lyrically reflective. I figured that the waltz-time would add to that feeling — I find waltzes take me back in time. Lyrically the singer looks back at life’s ups and downs, but ultimately lands in a place of contentment with where he’s landed. I think that’s all we want to eventually be able to do — be comfortable with the path we’ve taken.

Leon Russell – “It Takes a Lot to Laugh, It Takes a Train to Cry”

This is a Dylan tune that Leon Russell recorded in 1971. Dylan recorded it in ’65. It’s the vibe that I love here, though I don’t actually know what it’s about. It’s got all sorts of sexual allusions in its swagger. Russell approaches it slower than Dylan and for me this tempo suits it perfectly.

Harry Nilsson – “Everybody’s Talkin’”

I moved to Belfast, Northern Ireland, for part of my university studies and lived in a house with some great singers. At late-night song and drink sessions this song was a favorite for two harmony-singing gals, Carol and Loraine. Every time I hear this I’m transported back to that old Georgian row house and I’m standing in the kitchen listening to them.

Dolly Parton – “My Tennessee Mountain Home”

There’s such beauty in the simplicity that Dolly conjures up with her words. In the very first verse you see her “Watch the kids a’ playin’ with June bugs on a string.” It’s lovely, and now I want to do that. It’s a different time and Dolly paints an idyllic picture of her roots. When I think back to my home, thankfully I have good memories of it too — and she sort of takes me there even though she grew up in a two-room log cabin and I did not. But that’s Dolly — taking something specific and making it wonderfully universal.


Gordon Lightfoot – “If You Could Read my Mind”

I wasn’t a huge Gordon Lightfoot fan in my teens and 20s, but once I hit my 30s I became rabidly into his poetry. This song is quite simply about the failure of a marriage but the language he uses to describe it just takes me somewhere else when I listen. All his talk of “ghosts from wishing wells,” “a paperback novel, the kind the drugstore sells,” and “a movie star getting burned in a three way script.” It just grabs me and doesn’t let go.

Paul Simon – “American Tune”

I once had the chance to sing this in a variety show in a big theatre in Toronto. I had to memorize the lyrics and chords for the performance so I got to know it really well. The chord progressions are just stunning and the melody sails along on top of it like the sun dancing across water. “I don’t know a dream that’s not been shattered or driven to its knees, but it’s all right, it’s all right, for we’ve lived so well so long.”

Madison Violet – “No Fool for Trying”

I’ve always loved these two gals from the first time I saw them in concert. Their chemistry is really magical through both their musicianship and their vocal harmonies. The arrangement on this song is really simple and the chug-chug-chug rhythm seems to pull me down the highway on long drives. It opens with the lyric: “There’s trouble on this road…” and you’re left curious as to what’s happened. It pulls you in like a good book.

David Francey – “Blue Sorrow and Then Some”

It’s a longing song and the title says it all. I really like the 6/8 feel. The tempo he’s chosen keeps it kind of light and almost cheerful, but with such a sad sentiment in the story being told. “…but sometimes I wonder, do you think of me?” His vocal performance helps you feel the fragility of it all.

Photo credit: Ali Lauren

With a Country and Soul Groove, Marcus King Drives ‘El Dorado’ to the Grammys

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Thanks to a Grammy nomination for Best Americana Album, Marcus King is getting a second chance to make a first impression.

At the dawn of 2020, he’d been poised to become a breakout star in roots music, able to deliver an electrifying show with the soul chops to match. After three albums billed as The Marcus King Band, his solo debut record, El Dorado (produced by Dan Auerbach), received positive notices just about everywhere, including BGS. But as the year unraveled, so did his touring plans. In response, he turned his attention to songwriting, ended up booking some socially-distanced shows at drive-in movie theaters, and even landed a spot on The Tonight Show With Jimmy Fallon. And with attention from the Grammys, he’s back in the game — although he’s been surrounded by music from the time he was a kid.

“I don’t remember a time when it wasn’t entirely prominent in my life,” he tells BGS. “Just a focal point of every conversation or thought that I had.”

In the interview below, the 24-year-old performer talks about the family influence of his father and grandfather (who were both musicians), his earliest years on the stage, and the advice he’d give to teenagers with an equally burning desire to pursue a life in music.

BGS: There’s a lyric in “Wildflowers and Wine” that refers to an “old scratchy record.” I’m assuming you’re a vinyl collector. How did you go about building your collection?

King: It started when I was about 11 years old. I started with my mother’s collection and my dad’s collection, because in the early ‘90s that was dead technology, you know? They had tapes and CDs, so I inherited everybody’s collection. I inherited my Grandpa Pete’s big old stereo from the ‘50s when nobody wanted to carry it around anymore. The first record I bought on my own was Robin Trower, Bridge of Sighs. I just remember that smell of the record store and all those gatefolds and tools that went with it for cleaning your records. You know, the care that goes into it.

Who are some of your country influences?

Man, my grandfather spoon-fed me on all the good things country when I was growing up. We lost him when I was 14. He was a big country music proponent his whole life. He played in the Officers Band when he was in the Air Force in the ‘60s and he and his band backed up Charley Pride when he came over and played Ramstein Air Force Base [in Germany]. He backed up a number of legends over there. They asked him on the base television that they had over there, what he had to say to all the troops, and he said, “Long live country music!” So, he started me young on Charley Pride, of course, and George Jones was our jam. That’s what we listened to the most. Willie Nelson, Merle Haggard, Waylon Jennings… The list goes on and on, you know how that is.

Who are your influences when it comes to showmanship?

As far as showmanship’s concerned, I mentioned that my grandfather was really into country music and I grew up listening to country music with him. And my father turned me on to the Allman Brothers and Southern rock and blues guitar players like Albert, B.B., and Freddie King. What I discovered on my own was soul music. And the first artist I remember really, really digging was James Brown. I just loved the way that he controlled the stage and the way he controlled his band.

You know, to speak about my grandfather, Bill King, again, his biggest advice to me was that you’ve got to dress for the show, never get on the stage without your boots on, and you just need to dress like you’re not there to see the show – but you’re there to put the show on. Showmanship was always instilled in, early on. Well after the importance of knowing how to play your damn instrument, but it was an important one.

I’d read that you started playing professionally at 11 years old. What kind of gigs were those?

It was a lot of Christian bookstores, a lot of coffeehouses. We just played anywhere that would take us. My father is a born again Christian and a blues guitar player, which was a really niche market at the time. So, he wanted to play Hendrix covers but he would rewrite the lyrics from like “red house” to “church house.” And that would be our foothold into the Christian community. He went through his fair share of hard times with that, trying to be accepted into a gospel music community. Because he had long hair and played “the devil’s music.” But that was the kind of venues I started playing.

Were you with your dad’s group, or playing with your own group?

I started playing with my dad’s band when I was about 8 years old. I was playing what I knew. He would let me come up and play. That’s where I cut my teeth. When I was 11, I got my first experience in the studio, playing with my dad’s group. That’s when I started going out with his group.

From there, I tried to be whatever he needed. If he needed a rhythm guitar player, I’d do that, or if his drummer couldn’t make it, I’d play drums. Or his bass player, same situation. I was just there for whatever needed to be done. I just liked to play. When I was 13, that’s when I took on the leadership role, or started the process.

At what point did you start driving? Did they put you behind the wheel when you had gigs?

I was real tenacious about that, man. I had a real roaming nature about me. I was a Bassett Hound. I’d put my nose to the ground, look up, and be lost as hell. I wouldn’t know where I was. So, I was just ready to go and didn’t care where. I got my learner’s permit when I was 14 in South Carolina. The only stipulation was that I could drive as much as I wanted in the daytime, but in the evening, if I needed a licensed driver in the car with me.

So, to me, that meant I needed to hire a band of adults who could act as chaperones for me in the bars, and that could be licensed drivers in the car. Then I could be the sober driver at the end of the night. I had a good situation for anybody who wanted to come play with me. I would drive them there. You could drink as much as you want because I’d drive us home. And I’d get you paid good because I kept us working, at least four or five nights a week. I’d book us under a fake name, through my email, so people would take us more seriously.

What was it like being 14 years old, up on a stage in a club? Did you like it?

Oh man, I loved it! I saw my future ahead of me when I got there. I had to deal with my first drunk audience member. Or I had to play louder than a drunk argument. Or I had to have my first encounter with a lousy club owner that didn’t want to pay us. I saw my first bar brawl. I loved it, I ate it up. You go in there and you’ve got to have an assertiveness about you, but then again, you don’t want to be a 15-year-old asshole that nobody wants to work with.

I’m glad that that didn’t happen. But you had to be assertive because, being 15 years old, there was a lot of opportunity. You know, I have a lot of faith in human beings but there is the opportunity that people will try to rip you off. There was a lot of navigating those waters and it worked out good. I had a lot of great experiences in those days.

Were you going to high school during this time?

I was. I was going to high school and playing four or five nights a week. But, you know, I wasn’t up to no good, so my dad didn’t really see much harm in it. He was supportive of my dreams, but he was torn, though, because I was having trouble in school. I was just not interested and I was hyper-focused on music, so that was difficult for him as a parent but also as a supporter of my dreams. But it worked out.

For teenagers now in that same situation, what message would you send out to a kid who’s frustrated at the moment, but knows they wants to have a career in music?

I’ve always said, you knock on every door, and if they don’t answer the door, knock ‘em down. It’s sometimes better to ask for forgiveness than it is for permission in this industry. You know, it’s a thin line you’ve got to walk. You’ve got to know your worth but you can’t have a big head. You should never be overly confident. Never be your biggest fan, but be your second-biggest fan.

Photo credit: Alysse Gafkjen

Raised Along the Country Music Highway, Brit Taylor Was Bound for Nashville

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An exquisite singer who is undeniably country, Nashville singer-songwriter Brit Taylor is taking a stand for herself in her debut album, Real Me. It’s an intriguing collection of original songs that position the East Kentucky native as one of Americana music’s most promising artists. After a number of setbacks, ranging from the demise of a marriage to the end of a publishing deal, she contacted producer Dave Brainard to talk about a fresh start. Around the same time, she met Dan Auerbach, who encouraged her to sound like a traditional country singer, even though she’d been told for years that nobody was buying that kind of music anymore.

Emerging from a cloud of depression, Taylor channeled her emotions into song. Then she released Real Me in November, staking her claim as an artist that proudly honors her roots without sounding stuck in the past. Songs like “Waking Up Ain’t Easy” and “Broken Hearts Break” echo her true country influences, too. Talking by phone from her farm, with a few goats roaming nearby, she told BGS about the journey.

BGS: You’ve said that your family wasn’t very musical, but was there music always around as you were growing up?

Taylor: Yeah, I grew up in Eastern Kentucky, right by the Country Music Highway, US 23. So, the culture of country music is super rich around Eastern Kentucky. I grew up singing in the Kentucky Opry Junior Pros in Prestonsburg, Kentucky. I was always singing and playing music every weekend of the summer, and through the Christmas season.

What were those shows like?

It’s kind of like something you would see in Branson. Back when I was a kid, it was booming and tourism was really rich around there. We would sell out shows every Christmas and have to add matinees. I felt like I was in the big time when I was a kid! [Laughs] It’s a really nice theater, too. I saw my first concert there, and it was George Jones. I played there for 10 years, and then I moved to Nashville and started playing tiny bars! It was such a shock, The Junior Pros opened up for the older members who were in the Kentucky Opry. What I was in was just kids. I don’t think anybody was older than 18.

When did you learn to play guitar?

I learned to play guitar in my senior year of high school. I had a vocal coach and I was taking piano lessons. He knew I wanted to move to Nashville. I was very [eager to move]! I was always playing by ear, and I was always frustrating him, because I hated to read music. One day he said, “How are you gonna pack this piano around Nashville?” And I was like, “Well, I don’t know.” He said, “You’re not going to make it in that town unless you learn how to play guitar.”

And I went home and I was like, “Mom, you have to buy me a guitar. Now.” [Laughs] We went to the music store and she didn’t know anything about music. The guitar was a hundred bucks, or two hundred bucks, and my mom said, “I am only spending $50 on this guitar.” I told the guy at the cash register that I would sing him any song that he wanted if I could have that guitar for fifty dollars. I sang him a Fleetwood Mac song and he let me buy the guitar.

You had to overcome a lot of setbacks to get where you are. How did you stay focused and inspired to keep going?

I don’t think I ever thought about the option of quitting. It’s always just been there, that this is what I want to do. There’s never been any other thought. It was hard at times, but it was never like, “I want to do something else.” This is just what it’s always been. I don’t picture life any other way.

What kind of lessons did you learn from your family? Were they good at teaching you a work ethic, focus, and dedication?

Oh yeah. My dad’s an entrepreneur and he was always going against the grain, working for himself. A lot of people don’t understand that, but I came from a family that understood being an entrepreneur and chasing your dreams at all costs. He was also a martial arts instructor and that’s how he got started. So, he always taught me how to fight, whether it was in a karate match, or in real life.

Did you take lessons in martial arts as well?

I did. Dad had me whippin’ ass since I was 4. [Laughs]

How much of this dream you had was about songwriting as well? How important was it to develop your voice as a songwriter?

Oh, I wrote my first song when I was 13. It was terrible, but it came so natural. The structure came natural. I think I had listened to so much country music at that point, it had to come natural. Yeah, I moved to town to write songs. I wanted to be an artist, too, but I definitely wanted to write my own songs. It’s always been a dream to have other people record my songs as well.

Who were some of your heroes when you moved here?

Patty Loveless. I love her. She’s one of my favorite artists. Darrell Scott, and lots of songwriters, too. I grew up listening to a lot of Elvis and oldies. I sang a lot of Patsy Cline and Loretta Lynn growing up. The Judds, Dwight Yoakam, all those Kentucky artists.

Were you listening to the words even back then?

Every single word. My dad’s favorite story to tell is about when we were on the way to Myrtle Beach. I was always my dad’s little sidekick and I would sit in the front seat while my mom and my brother would nap in the back. We were listening to Sam Cooke. The line in the song was, “My baby’s gone and she ain’t coming back.” And my dad called me his baby. I was 4 years old, and I think I thought that song was about the man’s daughter. Dad said he looked over and saw me crying, and he said, “What’s wrong, baby?” And I said, “Why won’t his baby come back to him, Daddy?” [Laughs] I’m just sitting over there bawling, listening to Sam Cooke, and it’s not even about what I thought it was about, but it hit me.

Did you go to college in Nashville?

Murfreesboro. I moved here to go to school for music business at MTSU.

What do you remember about those early days, finally being so close to Nashville?

Oh my gosh, it was the best time of my life! I felt like such an adult. I’ve always been a little ahead of myself, I think, and just being on my own, getting to make my own decisions because I’m really independent, was just the best time time in my life. I had already started writing songs and co-writing songs, and I was just ready.

I moved here when I was 19 and I remember that feeling of excitement. It feels like the whole world is in front of you.

Oh, it does. That’s the cool thing about living on the farm, too. I remember when I would drive from Murfreesboro to Nashville, or Kentucky to Nashville, seeing the skyline of Nashville is so exciting! It’s just glorious! It still makes my heart drop because I’m not in it every day. So when I get to drive to town, it’s still really special.

Are you living on a farm now?

Yeah, I live out in Mount Juliet, outside of Nashville, and I’ve got a little over three acres. And I adore it! I don’t know if it’s because I grew up this way, but there’s some kind of peace about it when you can be out in the woods. I’m an animal lover. My next thing I want to get, with these goats, is these miniature donkeys. [Laughs] And you can’t really have those in Nashville.

Where did that love of animals come from?

Oh, I’ve always had animals. My dad’s a big animal lover. And his dad had llamas, emu, ostriches, donkeys, horses… I mean, he was always getting some kind of crazy animal. And apparently I’ve taken on that role in the family.

I think animals can bring comfort in stressful times. Is that the case for you?

Yeah, I can’t look at these little Pygmy goats and not smile. They’re just hilarious! And they make me happy. The music industry is full of ups and downs, and life in general is full of ups and downs, and it’s so easy to walk outside and be grounded in nature. It’s just being in nature and watching the animals running around, because they don’t have to think about anything. They’re just hollering for some more hay.

When you listen to Real Me now, what goes through your mind?

I’m grateful. I just listened to it and I’m grateful. I’m just as much in love with this record as I was in the process of making it. I still listen to it and get butterflies.

Photo credit: David McClister

LISTEN: My Darling Clementine, “I Lost You”

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Artist: My Darling Clementine (with Steve Nieve)
Hometown: Manchester / Birmingham, UK
Song: “I Lost You”
Album: Country Darkness
Release Date: November 6, 2020
Label: Fretsore Records

In Their Words: “‘I Lost You’ comes from [Elvis] Costello’s 2010 album, National Ransom, and is co-written with Jim Lauderdale, who was also part of the touring ensemble Elvis put together at that time. Lou and I shared a festival bill with Jim at the River Town Festival in Bristol in 2017 and joined him on stage for a few songs. Our paths have crossed a few times since. Most recently I met him at a songwriter festival in Lafayette, Louisiana. Jim is one of the sweetest and funniest guys, a master of the high harmony, and has the closest living voice to that of the great George Jones. He is also a very fine country songwriter.

“The original version of ‘I Lost You’ opens with a guitar riff which then reoccurs later throughout the song. We replaced that with Steve [Nieve]’s arpeggiated piano motif. Although written originally for one voice, the song works particularly well as a conversational duet. The male character is regretting taking the woman for granted who, due to his negligence, ‘goes to strangers.’ He is feeling bereft and foolish having lost her. Of all the 12 songs we have reinterpreted as a duet for this Country Darkness album this was possibly the most straightforward to adapt for two voices. It also served as a timely reminder to both Lou and I, especially me, not to take each other for granted!” — Michael Weston King, My Darling Clementine

Photo credit: Marco Bakker

On ‘Blackbirds,’ Bettye LaVette Honors Black Women Who Inspire Her (Part 2 of 2)

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When Bettye LaVette sings “I Hold No Grudge,” she brings the weight of all her years to it. The 74-year-old vocalist draws out certain notes, delivers certain lines almost in a speaking voice, as though she wants to show us how difficult, but also how essential, it can be to let things go. “Deep inside me there ain’t no regrets,” she declares, “but a woman who’s been forgotten may forgive but never, never forget.” She draws out that second “never” to underscore its harsh finality, to remind you that she’ll live with the memory of this slighting forever.

“I Hold No Grudge” has never been merely a song about romantic betrayal — not when Nina Simone recorded it for her landmark 1967 album, High Priestess of Soul, and not when LaVette recorded it more than sixty years later. This new version sounds like it’s addressed to anyone who stood in LaVette’s way so many years ago, in particular those executives at Atlantic Records who saw fit to shelve her debut album in 1972 without so much as explanation, much less an apology. That decision crushed her and thwarted her promising career. “That’s exactly what it is,” says LaVette. “I probably have some grudges, but they aren’t big enough to make me stop. I’ve not been defeated. I’m extending the olive branch once again.”

“I Hold No Grudge” opens her latest album, Blackbirds, which collects her interpretations of songs made famous by Black women in the 1940s and 1950s, including Dinah Washington, Ruth Brown, Nancy Wilson, and Billie Holiday. She calls them “the bridge I came across on,” referring to that era between big band blues of the 1940s and rhythm & blues of the 1960s, when these artists were pushing popular music in new directions.

With a small band led by producer-arranger Steve Jordan, LaVette runs through deep cuts like “Blues for the Weepers,” a song first sung by Ruth Brown (and later made famous by Lou Rawls). It’s a song dedicated to “all the soft-singing sisters and torch-bearing misters,” she sings. “They just come to listen and dream.” She understands that we go to songs now for the same reasons we did sixty or seventy years ago: to find sympathy and solace, but also to find a way forward, perhaps some promise of a better life.

The most familiar tune on Blackbirds is likely “Strange Fruit,” popularized by Billie Holiday ninety years ago at Café Society in New York City and covered by countless singers ever since. As a result it’s difficult to make the song sound new and urgent, yet LaVette manages to do just that. Against her band’s dolefully trudging rhythm, she tilts the melody forward just slightly, as though pulling us toward some horrific destination, and she shreds the syllables of the song’s climactic declaration: “Here is a strange and bitter crop.”

That middle word is frayed almost beyond recognition – “stra-ya-ange” – to make the song’s metaphor sound tragically real. LaVette recorded it nearly a year ago and was startled when it became so heavily relevant again. To hear her sing “Strange Fruit” in 2020 is to be reminded that the injustices so many Americans are protesting — the murders of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, and too many other Black men and women — are not new or specific to the current era.

In the second installment of our Artist of the Month coverage, LaVette talks about growing up with a jukebox in her living room, giving these formative artists their due, and how Paul McCartney fits into all this.

(Editor’s note: Read part one of our Artist of the Month interview here.)

BGS: This record is rooted in the history of popular music. Can you tell me about this particular period and what it means to you?

LaVette: People — especially white people — they throw “rhythm and blues” and “blues” together a lot. And now today, they’re throwing “rhythm and blues” toward young blacks and young whites who want to sound black. When people talk about rhythm and blues, they go back about as far as Etta James, but these women are the bridge that Etta came across on as well. Rhythm and blues was a music that came from blues, of course, and from gospel. When people ask me the difference between “blues” and “rhythm and blues,” I always tell them that you can cry to blues, but you can dance and cry to rhythm and blues.

It’s a short bridge, from about 1948 or ’49 to the burgeoning of Atlantic and Motown’s rhythm and blues, which was about ’61 or ’62. That’s when I came along. We took away the saxophones and added more guitars. We took the blues guitar and sped it up and put it in our tunes. The people who took us from the late ‘40s into the early ‘60s are rarely mentioned, and that’s why I chose this group of women.

I didn’t even know there were Black women who sang, other than Lena Horne and Dorothy Dandridge. And then, hearing LaVern Baker and Ruth Brown and Little Esther, I don’t know whether it gave me hope or whatever, but it really surprised me. I didn’t know that women who sung in such a bawdy way even existed.

When did you first hear these women?

When rhythm and blues came about, that was when I was young and I was dancing. That was when I was coming up and my sister was a teenager. We had a jukebox in our living room in Muskegon, Michigan, which is where I was born, and it had all the current tunes of the day, which my sister played daily when she got out of school. They were all rhythm and blues songs. You know, they weren’t into jazz — they were either blues or rhythm and blues songs on the jukebox. And gospel and country-western, no less. At one point, my favorite singers used to be Doris Day and Dale Evans.

Wait, you had a jukebox in your living room?

My parents sold corn liquor in the ‘40s and ‘50s. Muskegon was extremely segregated, so if you wanted a drink after dinner or after work, you had to come by my house. These were homes that had been built for the soldiers returning from the Second World War. So they were theoretically projects, but they hadn’t started making them out of brick yet. They looked more like barracks, and everybody’s house was just alike.

It was living room, dining room, small kitchen, two bedrooms, and a bathroom. My parents sold corn liquor and chicken sandwiches and barbeque sandwiches. There was no gambling. Nobody could cuss but my mother. But they could get shots and pints and half pints. And the jukebox was there in the living room where most people’s couch probably was. I was about 18 months old when I learned all the songs on the jukebox — all of them.

How did you choose the songs for this record?

I keep several files. Or, I should say, my husband keeps them for me. I’ve got all kinds of files. I’ve got a country and western file. I’ve got a strictly George Jones file. What I do is, I offer my label two or three ideas based on these files, and they tell me which one they like best. So I have some ideas that I like, and that way I don’t have to take their suggestions. If they find one they believe in and are willing to spend money on, I’ve got the songs already in.

I had this file here of standards, some of which I had done when I did little gigs in places around, just me and a keyboard player. Some of them, like Nancy Wilson’s “Save Your Love for Me,” I had done in other venues that most people haven’t seen me in, because they didn’t come where I was. A song like “I Hold No Grudge, which I heard eighteen years ago, it’s been in my file since then. I thought, if I ever get a chance to do that kind of album, I will do that tune. I wasn’t going to throw it away.

When did you discover that song?

I was living in Detroit, and I was getting my hair done. Usually in Black salons, there’s a radio on that plays Black music, and this song came on. I had never heard it before! And because Detroit is one of the places where I can pick up the phone and call whoever is playing whatever it is and I’ll know them, I called them up and she told me it was Nina Simone. And I said, well, if I ever get the chance, I’m gonna record that tune. That was eighteen years ago.

Just a few years ago I performed at a party for David Lynch, the movie producer, and this gentleman came up to me and said, “I loved your performance. My name is Angelo Badalamenti, and I do all the music for David Lynch’s films.” My husband, who loves David Lynch’s films, was ecstatic. Angelo says, “I have a tune. Years ago, I used to work with Nina Simone, and I wrote this tune for her that I think would be perfect for you.” I said, “What’s the name of it?” “‘I Hold No Grudge.’” I said, “I know you aren’t going to believe this, but I’ve had plans to do that tune for the last fifteen years!” So when I got the opportunity to do this album for Verve, I got in touch with Angelo and sent it to him, and he said he could hear Nina listening to it, closing her eyes, and saying, “Yeah, she got it.” Of course that made me feel very good.

Another song I wanted to ask you about is “Strange Fruit,” which seems sadly very timely right now.

But it just became timely! When we recorded it back in August, it was one of the oldest tunes on the album. And then all of this mess broke out, and the tune became timely! But all of this wasn’t going on when we recorded it. That’s not why we recorded it. We recorded it to fill in the Billie Holiday slot. While we were waiting for the album to come out, all of this happened. And it was just timely — as if we went to look for a tune to describe what’s going on now. So it’s bad that it’s timely — it’s awful that it’s timely — but it’s timely.

I knew the tune had not lost any of its power, and I knew I had to do it completely different from Billie. I’m blessed to work with Steve Jordan because he doesn’t hear these songs the way they were originally recorded. He hears them the way I sing them, because his age is closer to mine. He was born and raised in Harlem, and he grew up with these rhythm and blues tunes. He knew that I wanted “Strange Fruit” to be terse and sad and black and dark, and when we finished recording the music, I said, “Steve! I didn’t want it to sound exactly like they’re standing by the tree playing this song,” but it does. It’s just haunting. That’s the thing that makes Steve so important to me.

The outlier on the album is your interpretation of the Beatles’ “Blackbird.” What made that song fit this project?

The reason that I chose it — and I chose it for the title — is because many Americans don’t know that Brits call their women birds, and Paul is talking about a Black girl that he saw standing up on a picnic table singing one night in a park. He’s talking about a Black girl singing and I thought that that would just be perfect for it.

(Editor’s note: Read the first half of our Artist of the Month interview with Bettye LaVette.)

Photo credit: Joseph A. Rosen