John Prine, Brittany Howard, Sarah Jarosz Among Winners at 63rd Annual Grammy Awards

The 63rd Annual Grammy Awards were held yesterday afternoon and evening, Sunday March 14, 2021. Here are the nominees and winners in the American Roots Music fields:

Best American Roots Performance

Black Pumas, “Colors”

Bonny Light Horseman, “Deep in Love”

Brittany Howard, “Short and Sweet”

Norah Jones & Mavis Staples, “I’ll Be Gone”

John Prine, “I Remember Everything”


Best American Roots Song

“Cabin,” Laura Rogers & Lydia Rogers, songwriters (The Secret Sisters)

“Ceiling to the Floor,” Sierra Hull & Kai Welch, songwriters (Sierra Hull)

“Hometown,” Sarah Jarosz, songwriter (Sarah Jarosz)

“I Remember Everything,” Pat McLaughlin & John Prine, songwriters (John Prine)

“Man Without a Soul,” Tom Overby & Lucinda Williams, songwriters (Lucinda Williams)


Best Americana Album

Courtney Marie Andrews, Old Flowers

Hiss Golden Messenger, Terms of Surrender

Sarah Jarosz, World on the Ground

Marcus King, El Dorado

Lucinda Williams, Good Souls Better Angels


Best Bluegrass Album

Danny Barnes, Man on Fire

Thomm Jutz, To Live in Two Worlds, Vol. 1

Steep Canyon Rangers, North Carolina Songbook

Billy Strings, Home

Various Artists, The John Hartford Fiddle Tune Project, Vol. 1


Best Traditional Blues Album

Frank Bey, All My Dues are Paid

Don Bryant, You Make Me Feel

Robert Cray Band, That’s What I Heard

Jimmy “Duck” Holmes, Cypress Grove

Bobby Rush, Rawer Than Raw


Best Contemporary Blues Album

Fantastic Negrito, Have You Lost Your Mind Yet?

Ruthie Foster Big Band, Live at the Paramount

G. Love, The Juice

Bettye LaVette, Blackbirds

North Mississippi Allstars, Up and Rolling


Best Folk Album

Bonny Light Horseman, Bonny Light Horseman

Leonard Cohen, Thanks for the Dance

Laura Marling, Song for Our Daughter

The Secret Sisters, Saturn Return

Gillian Welch & David Rawlings, All the Good Times


Best Regional Roots Music Album

Black Lodge Singers, My Relatives “Nikso Kowaiks”

Cameron Dupuy and the Cajun Troubadours, Cameron Dupuy and the Cajun Troubadours

Nā Wai ʽEhā, Lovely Sunrise

New Orleans Nightcrawlers, Atmosphere

Sweet Cecilia, A Tribute to Al Berard


Also, note these Americana winners in other categories:

Best Rock Song

“Kyoto,” Phoebe Bridgers, Morgan Nagler & Marshall Vore, songwriters (Phoebe Bridgers)

“Lost in Yesterday,” Kevin Parker, songwriter (Tame Impala)

“Not,” Adrianne Lenker, songwriter (Big Thief)

“Shameika,” Fiona Apple, songwriter (Fiona Apple)

“Stay High,” Brittany Howard, songwriter (Brittany Howard)


Best Country Solo Performance

“Black Like Me,” Mickey Guyton

“Bluebird,” Miranda Lambert

“Stick That In Your Country Song,” Eric Church

“When My Amy Prays,” Vince Gill

“Who You Thought I Was,” Brandy Clark


Best Country Song

“Bluebird,” Luke Dick, Natalie Hemby & Miranda Lambert, songwriters (Miranda Lambert)

“The Bones,” Maren Morris, Jimmy Robbins & Laura Veltz, songwriters (Maren Morris)

“Crowded Table,” Brandi Carlile, Natalie Hemby & Lori McKenna, songwriters (The Highwomen)

“More Hearts Than Mine,” Ingrid Andress, Sam Ellis & Derrick Southerland, songwriters (Ingrid Andress)

“Some People Do,” Jesse Frasure, Shane McAnally, Matthew Ramsey & Thomas Rhett, songwriters (Old Dominion)


Best Roots Gospel Album

Fisk Jubilee Singers, Celebrating Fisk! (The 150th Anniversary Album)

Mark Bishop, Beautiful Day

The Crabb Family, 20/20

The Erwins, What Christmas Really Means

Ernie Haase & Signature Sound, Something Beautiful


Photo by Kevin Winter/Getty Images for The Recording Academy

BGS 5+5: Clint Roberts

Artist: Clint Roberts
Hometown: Brevard, North Carolina
Latest album: ROSE SONGS (February 26, 2021)

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

I always have been, and probably will always be, a mountain boy. I’ve lived in Western North Carolina for 90% of my life, all of that time between Brevard, Asheville, and Boone. Mountains are deeply inspiring and meditative for me, perfect for stewing lyrical ideas or song narratives in my mind. I trail run a fair amount, and that’s always a good time for me to listen to my demos and do lyrical gymnastics with them, or simply listen to other people’s music and try to get lost in it. I’ll never know to what extent my environment informs my process, but I imagine these mountains give me a lot.

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

Prior to finding songwriting in early high school, I wasn’t sure what I really wanted to do with my life. I felt like a fish being asked to climb a tree in the areas of school sports, Boy Scouts, and the various other middle school activities that kids are often herded into. The moment I learned four chords on a ukulele in 9th grade, I started writing songs. And soon after I would decide that performing my songs is what I wanted to do with my life. The process was and still is addicting, and at the time it was one of the first times I can remember hearing validation from other people that I was good at something. So between my own love for it and hearing friends and even strangers tell me that I had a shot, I decided to go that route.

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

There’s a song on my upcoming record (ROSE SONGS) that took roughly five years to finish. That’s not to say that I spent each day of that time slaving away at it, but rather, that I didn’t know what I wanted to do with it until that much time had passed. The first verse and chorus were written in a day, the rest of the song was finished about five years later. It was a song that always hung out in my demos, always reminding me that one day it had to be finished. I’m really glad I did, because it’s one of the songs and recordings on the album that I’m most proud of.

What other art forms — literature, film, dance, painting, etc — inform your music?

Film informs my process a lot. I’ve occasionally written songs from the perspective of different characters in movies that I like. The aesthetic or setting of a given film can very potently reside in my mind, often subconsciously informing my creativity. I particularly like epics that have a lot of different fantastical settings, like The Dark Crystal and The NeverEnding Story. When curating the songs for a record, I try to keep my song choices diverse like the settings of such movies, so that no one given song feels quite like the other.

What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?

This isn’t quite a stage memory but it’s a backstage memory. I’m friends with members of Steep Canyon Rangers, a band that many of your readers are probably aware of. They perform with Steve Martin frequently. My college band had given the guys several copies of our first EP, and it’s now my understanding that they had given Steve one of the copies (maybe they just played it in front of him, I’m not sure). Some months later, our band would be on a festival bill with Steve and the Rangers, and Steve was waiting to shake my hand off stage when we were done performing. “Sounds just like the record,” he said. That was a very confusing and exciting moment for a 19-year-old songwriter.


Photo credit: Daniel Barlow

A New Generation of Bluegrass Stars Reflect on ‘O Brother, Where Art Thou?’

The soundtrack to O Brother Where Art Thou? was a phenomenon in the early 2000s, turning bluegrass musicians into superstars and creating an instant mainstream market for old-time music — from folk to gospel to children’s songs to prison chants to blues and everything in between. To celebrate the twentieth anniversary of its astonishing success and to wrap up our Artist of the Month series, we spoke to several musicians about the impact O Brother and its subsequent tours had on their lives and livelihoods.

Sierra Hull: “I grew up in a little town with maybe 900 people, and there used to be a poster section at the Walmart the next town over. You could flip through the posters and there would be pop stars like Britney Spears and Backstreet Boys. I was always convinced that one day I would find an Alison Krauss poster in there. She was as popular in my little kid brain as Britney Spears. So it was cool when O Brother came out and elevated some of those people who were already giants to me, like Alison and Dan Tyminski and Ralph Stanley.

“I was already playing, but I was too young to be touring yet. By the time Cold Mountain came out [in 2003], I was part of that tour. Alison was part of both soundtracks, and she invited my brother and me to go on that tour. So we got to help celebrate that second wave. I was 12, and it was really the first time for me to be out on tour, travel to so many different places, and play Red Rocks and the Beacon Theater in New York. Standing at the side of the stage and listening to Alison sing to hundreds of people every night every night was one of my favorite memories.

“It was amazing to watch people go crazy over Ralph Stanley every night. He had this dazzled suit jacket that he wore every night. Sometimes he would sit his banjo down while his band played and take that jacket off and throw it to me at the side of the stage. I would get to wear that dazzled jacket at the end of the show when everybody came out on stage. It’s one of the most special musical experiences I’ve ever had.”



Sara Watkins: “O Brother was something we somehow became affiliated with. Nickel Creek had just released our band’s first record on Sugar Hill, after years of doing just little homemade projects. Alison Krauss produced it, which had been out maybe a year and a half when O Brother came out. She was a big part of that soundtrack, of course, so our band was gaining a little bit of notoriety. I remember reading a huge New York Times spread, and we were listed among the people on that scene. We were part of that conversation, despite not having been part of the soundtrack in any way. We were just at the right place at the right time, and the awareness of the bluegrass scene just exploded. We were able to reach a different level very quickly. It was a huge advantage to our career. We already had some momentum, but the soundtrack really put the wind in our sails.

“T Bone Burnett [who produced the album], one of his brilliant skills is finding the right people for the right song. He brought in some incredible musicians in a way that really showed the musicianship in our community and made everyone really proud of our scene. We saw our heroes up there, and it was gratifying to see them celebrated by a huge audience. I remember feeling a new respect for Ralph Stanley with that vocal [on ‘Oh Death’]. That actually turned me on to shape-note singing. Someone told me his delivery was reminiscent of those old communities that did shape-note singing and those old preachers who used to sing that way. I’d never heard anything like it. And to this day, whenever I see Dan Tyminski, I make a point to stick around until he plays ‘Man of Constant Sorrow.’ No way I’m leaving before then.”



Dave Wilson (Chatham County Line): “I remember going with our old bass player to see O Brother in the theater. We snuck a bottle of whiskey in and sat in the back row and just laughed and drank. I remember thinking, ‘Bluegrass has arrived!’ We were already a band and playing small gigs around town, but we weren’t at a place where we had dedicated our lives to it. So it was kismet for us. That record came out, and the scene just exploded. Suddenly we had this huge advertisement out there in the world for the style of music we were playing. We definitely noticed a change. There were more strangers coming to see us play gigs, and they were really excited about it. One side effect was people would yell out for us to play ‘Man of Constant Sorrow.’ They did it enough to make me wonder if they had heard the soundtrack or just seen the movie. But we never played it. We didn’t know how! It would have probably shut them up if we had!

“I really got into the record. There are some badass arrangements on there. And it’s not corny. It’s not super traditional. I love that they reached out to the right people. It could have been bad. They could have gotten Toby Keith or someone like that. Oh god, I don’t even want to think about that! One of my favorite parts is that blues song by Chris Thomas King [a cover of Skip James’ ‘Hard Time Killing Floor’]. It makes for such a special moment. Later, they booked that concert film [Down from the Mountain, recorded at the Ryman Auditorium] at our old classic movie theater here in town, and I remember the boys going to see it and we were all just floored. That was almost bigger than the movie as far as having an impact in the folk music scene.”



Sam Amidon: “People in the folk world can be very protective of the music, which I think is valid. But my inclination is that if I find something I’m excited about, I want to share it. I want people to know about it. To have grown up in a world knowing a lot of the corners O Brother explores, it was beautiful to think about how many people all of a sudden were going to discover these field recordings and these great musicians. And I was thankful because until then, portrayals of traditional music in the mass media had just been so bad and so clichéd or so simplistic. Nothing had depicted this stuff on this scale before. Before then, if you told somebody you played banjo, they would think Deliverance. That was their frame of reference.

“For O Brother to do it without messing it up was a miracle. To see these different corners of American music — beyond just blues and bluegrass as the two major industry terms — was a very positive thing, especially because ‘folk music’ can be such a heterogeneous category. Nobody would even really know what you were talking about if it wasn’t bluegrass or blues. O Brother pointed to all of these different areas. It’s singing games and banjo songs and all these different things. O Brother is weirdly inclusive. It cast a wide net. Nowadays it’s easy to go to the soundtrack and hear more problematic elements of the whole Americana genre thing, but I think it’s good to remember that when it first came along, it was much more nuanced compared to what had come before.”



Woody Platt (Steep Canyon Rangers): “It’s interesting that the twentieth anniversary of O Brother is fairly parallel to the twentieth anniversary of our band. We formed in Chapel Hill, North Carolina, when we were seniors in college, right when the movie came out. We all had been exposed to bluegrass and old-time just by being Carolinians. We all had that music around when we were growing up, but none of us in the band really dove into it until we were in college. We’d only been following that music a few years when the movie came out. I’m not sure we were aware at the time of the impact that the movie and the tour had on bluegrass, old-time, string band, mountain music, but we could feel some excitement when we were playing bars on Franklin Street, which is the main drag in Chapel Hill. But we didn’t really have anything to compare it to. There was no before or after. It was just what we were doing, and that’s all we knew.

“I really enjoyed the movie, but I was a big fan of the album. Hearing Ralph Stanley’s voice in a film, or Dan Tyminski’s, or just seeing people I admired in that movie was pretty incredible. Looking back on it, it was good timing for us to be getting off the ground, and we were having so much fun and finding so much joy in it. The music we were playing had been a small niche, but all of a sudden it had this national interest. I have no doubt in my mind that the awareness of the music was fueled by the movie. It’s a fascinating phenomenon to think about, because it wasn’t marketed in any significant way. It just happened. It was just this thing where people were suddenly into this music.”



Molly Tuttle: “The movie came out when I was seven years old, and I remember my dad showing it to me when I was in grade school. I loved it, and the music really stuck with me because I already had an affinity for bluegrass and old-time music. Seeing it performed in a movie was new and exciting. My dad teaches bluegrass for a living, and when the movie came out, he had an influx of new students.

“It’s had a lasting impact on the popularity of bluegrass music. But I was so young that I didn’t know many of the musicians on the soundtrack by name, so it introduced me to a lot of artists who later became my favorites. And the Down from the Mountain documentary further familiarized me with people like Emmylou Harris and Alison Krauss. Many of those artists, like Gillian Welch and John Hartford, have been big influences on me, and that was my introduction to their music. I’ve performed ‘I’ll Fly Away’ and ‘Angel Band’ a number of times, and I got to do ‘Man of Constant Sorrow’ with Dan Tyminski at the IBMA awards one year.”



Dom Flemons: “I actually saw Ralph Stanley on the O Brother tour in Flagstaff, Arizona, in the year 2000. It was at this random high school. I saw the poster on a telephone pole when I was going to college there. I’d started playing the banjo by that point — six-string and four-string banjo, guitar, and harmonica. I remember the place was really packed out, and he gave this amazing performance. I just loved watching the man at work. When he sang ‘Oh Death,’ he pulled this piece of paper out of his pocket, put on his glasses, and made a joke about how old he was. And he just sang it off this piece of paper and blew our minds.

O Brother was very interesting, and I think it’s still a milestone album for several generations. A lot of the old folks who played those old styles and sang those old songs were starting to pass away, so the soundtrack ended up being a perfect vehicle for getting younger people into the music of the ‘20s and ‘30s. It reminded people of the really good old recordings that were available. That’s where I went. I found the old RCA Victor and Columbia recordings, and that was it for me.

“It’s a perfectly structured record, opening with the prisoners on the chain gang and then it goes to that beautiful ‘Big Rock Candy Mountain.’ And then you get into “You Are My Sunshine” with Norman Blake, and then Chris Thomas King presenting ‘Hard Time Killing Floor.’ That in itself was a revival of Skip James. People talk about Ghost World and Devil Got My Woman, but I think O Brother got it going. People just started casually bringing those songs back in at shows and festivals, and it seemed like a lot more people knew them. Of course they would sing them like the recordings on O Brother. Those are just things I observed before I was a professional musician, and it was amazing to see.”


 

‘O Brother, Where Art Thou?’ Created an Instant Audience for Old-Time Music

The O Brother, Where Art Thou? soundtrack, which was just starting to pick up momentum twenty years ago this winter, was both a forethought and an afterthought. The Coen Brothers had an idea for a film and even a title borrowed from Preston Sturges’ 1940 comedy, Sullivan’s Travels, but no screenplay. They commissioned T Bone Burnett to assemble a sprawling playlist of old-time music for them to use as writing prompts — original recordings from the first half of the twentieth century as well as new recordings of old songs. He gathered some of the finest vocalists and players, including Emmylou Harris, Gillian Welch, Alison Krauss, and members of Union Station, as well as Norman Blake, Sam Bush, and John Hartford. In various combinations they produced around sixty tracks covering hillbilly plaints, gospel numbers, Protestant hymns, children’s songs, labor songs, even prison songs.

From that pool the Coens selected a handful of tracks that served as the skeleton for their screenplay, which became a Deep South retelling of The Odyssey. As three yokel chain-gang fugitives wander the backwoods and cotton fields and gravel roads of Depression-era Mississippi, they inadvertently become country stars thanks to a hasty version of “Man of Constant Sorrow,” originally recorded in 1917 by Dick Burnett and re-recorded for the film by Dan Tyminski. Along the way they encounter a parade of white-clad Christians singing “Down to the River to Pray,” a blues singer who regales them with a campfire rendition of Skip James’ “Hard Time Killing Floor,” and a KKK klavern performing a Busby Berkley routine in white sheets and hoods.

Whittled down to eighteen tracks, the soundtrack hit stores just a few weeks before the film, and it seemed designed to stand alone as an upscale release. As Luke Lewis, formerly chairman/CEO of Universal Nashville, told Billboard in 2015: “When we were putting it together, a bunch of us said, ‘This is probably going to be a coffee table kind of a CD, where people will leave it around and be proud to have it.’ That turned out to be pretty much true… A lot of people that don’t buy records at all, or buy one a year, bought that record.”

Still, no one figured it would sell any more copies than your typical soundtrack, and certainly no one predicted it would so completely eclipse the film. Its success has been astounding: It has sold nearly 9 million copies, hung around the upper reaches of the Billboard Top 200 for several years, won the Grammy for Album of the Year (beating out Bob Dylan and Outkast, among others), spun off a sequel, inspired a series of tours and live albums, and redefined a massive market for traditional music in America.

Twenty years later, the gulf separating film and soundtrack remains remarkably wide. The former is glib to the point of nihilism, as though every line of dialogue and every camera angle is surrounded by quote marks. The soundtrack, by contrast, is sincere to the point of evangelism, as though these old songs were pieces of secular scripture. The music plays everything straight, while the film can’t keep a straight face. The soundtrack became a phenomenon, while the film sits in the lower tiers of its auteurs’ sprawling catalog.

Both are products of a very particular time: They were released during that short window between two defining events — the hand-wringing spectacle of Y2K and the horrific televised tragedy of 9/11. With the benefit of twenty years’ hindsight, they represent a pop-cultural pivot from the irony that defined the 1990s and much of the Coens’ output to the “New Sincerity” that defined the 2000s.

Why did this niche soundtrack become such a massive hit? Some have credited the popularity of O Brother to fin de siècle jitters and a desire to return to a rosier, more comfortable American past (never mind that the past, especially the 1930s, was never rosy or comfortable). Others have chalked it up to a rejection of the late ’90s pop music excess embodied by Britney Spears and the Backstreet Boys.

Perhaps the best reason for its success is also the most obvious: This is a good album, and an accessible one. It’s a well-curated tour through old-time music, a sampler of rural American traditions that serves as a primer on the subject without sounding like a textbook. All of these different styles are presented with an eloquence that is homespun yet modern: a balance that highlights rather than dampens their charms.

Burnett puts such an emphasis on the human voice that even the instrumental tracks sound a cappella. He wants you to hear the exquisite grain in the voices of Emmylou Harris, Gillian Welch, and Alison Krauss on “Didn’t Leave Nobody But the Baby” as well as the weight pressing on Chris Thomas King as he moans through “Hard Time Killing Floor.” Curiously, Dr. Ralph Stanley had to convince the producer to let him sing “Oh Death” without banjo, which was absolutely the right call. His voice is high and keening, a serious a death, shaken by the very subject he’s singing about.

If there’s a breakout song on O Brother — something resembling a hit — it was this very intense performance, which remains one of the finest renditions of this very odd and oft-covered song. Stanley was 73 years old when the album was released, had been playing since 1946, and was already celebrated as one of the fathers of bluegrass, but O Brother gave his career a considerable boost, introducing him to a significantly wider audience. (That said, it always struck me as deeply disrespectful that the Coens have a Klansman lip-synching Stanley’s performance in the film, as though they feared the words might actually mean something.)

Stanley performed the song a cappella at the 2002 Grammys — imagine anything a cappella at such a glitz-bound ceremony — not long before the soundtrack won Album of the Year. It might have been the climax of the soundtrack’s shelf life, but it kept selling and kept selling. It created an instant audience for old-time music, and upstart string-bands found themselves with readymade audiences, many of them shouting “Man of Constant Sorrow” the way they once might have yelled “Free Bird!” Every artist on the album got a boost, especially Alison Krauss & Union Station, who crossed over from bluegrass to pop and launched a series of hit records with the aptly titled New Favorite in August 2001. Similarly, Welch, Harris, and even Stanley enjoyed boosts in album and ticket sales in the wake of O Brother.

As with any sweeping change, there are new opportunities as well as new losses. The alt-country acts of the 1990s had already lost much of their luster, but roots suddenly had no room for punk anymore. Gone were the dark, twangy experiments like Daniel Lanois’s Americana trilogy — Harris’ Wrecking Ball in 1996, followed by Bob Dylan’s Time Out of Mind the next year and Willie Nelson’s Teatro the year after that. All three proved that roots music could accommodate new sounds, that it could look to the future without completely letting go of the past, and all three stand among the best entries in their artists’ remarkable catalogs.

But O Brother seemed to wipe most of those new avenues away, turning roots music into something largely acoustic, uniform, polite, conservative — beholden to the past and largely dismissive of the present. Watching certain acts riding that wave was like watching Civil War reenactors march on a makeshift battlefield, and ten years later groups like Mumford & Sons and the Lumineers were using roots music to sell arena-size sentiments.

Another aspect of old-time lost in the O Brother wave: politics. Previous folk revivals had a populist bent, extolling the music as the sound of the people and as an expression of a specifically American community. Woody Guthrie and Pete Seeger were branded subversives and communists, while Dylan and his early ‘60s cohort found radical possibilities in Harry Smith’s legendary Anthology of American Folk Music. But no one on O Brother is in any danger of being branded a pinko. The film itself nods to issues of race and class, but without really commenting on them in any serious or specific way. The soundtrack, by contrast, foregrounds songs about yearning, about breaking free of turmoil and hardship to find peace and contentment. Often that can be humorous, as on Harry McClintock’s fantastical “Big Rock Candy Mountain,” but more often it’s poignant, as on Krauss and Welch’s “I’ll Fly Away.” It’s a collection more concerned with needs of the spirit than of the flesh, so any earthly implications are largely ignored.

The roots market that sprang up in the soundtrack’s wake was consequently blanched of anything resembling social commentary, despite there being so much to comment on. That wave of bands might have provided a counterpart to the entrenched political conservatism that defined mainstream country music of the early 2000s, but instead it offered merely escapism.

A few artists did manage to question this rosy thinking about the past, in particular the Carolina Chocolate Drops. They traced strains of Black influence, craft, and contribution to old-time music, which is generally considered to be white, and therefore expanded its historical scope and current impact. As players, however, they injected their songs with no small amount of joy, as though taking great delight in what these old forms allowed them to express. The group’s three primary players — Dom Flemons, Rhiannon Giddens, and Justin Robinson — have carried that particular balance into their solo careers.

Any of the soundtrack’s shortcomings weren’t the fault of the musicians, who play and sing these songs much more beautifully and sympathetically than the film ever demanded. Nor is it the fault of the songs themselves, which obviously spoke to people as clearly in 2001 as they did in 1937. And it continues to speak loudly in 2021: The coffee table product wasn’t designed to bear the burden of the market it created, but the songs still inspire subsequent generations well into a new century, with its own tribulations and hardships.


 

LISTEN: Barry Gibb and Jason Isbell Share “Words of a Fool”

Legendary artist Sir Barry Gibb of Bee Gees fame has now fulfilled one of his greatest artistic visions. Gibb, the sole remnant of the pop music paradigm, is a self-avowed lifelong bluegrass and country music fan, and his new album bears testament to that affinity. The record, titled Greenfields: The Gibb Brothers Songbook, Vol. 1, offers twelve Gibb brothers classics reimagined with voices from across the bluegrass and country music realms. Guests include Brandi Carlile, Tommy Emmanuel, Jason Isbell, Alison Krauss, Dolly Parton, and Gillian Welch & David Rawlings, to name only a few.

The magnitude of creative power is manned by none other than Nashville producer Dave Cobb, whose expertise and track record ensure that the new album will be nothing short of magical. Remembering his late brothers, Gibb says the collection is something that “Maurice and Robin would have loved… for different reasons.” To promote the January 8 release, Gibb shared an insightful trailer for the album, in which he details the influences, goals, and parts of the recording process that created Greenfields. Watch the trailer and listen to “Words of a Fool” featuring Jason Isbell below.


Photo credit: Desiree Prieto

Artist of the Month: ‘O Brother, Where Art Thou?’

Twenty years ago, in 2001, the music of O Brother, Where Art Thou? captivated America and, suddenly, bluegrass appealed to pretty much everybody. We could all sing at least a few words of “I Am a Man of Constant Sorrow,” though admittedly not sound as good as Dan Tyminski or the Soggy Bottom Boys. Roots music heroes Emmylou Harris, Alison Krauss, and Gillian Welch added more positive press to their résumés, and before it was all over, the generation-spanning collection won multiple industry accolades, inspired a national tour, and even led to the first-ever Grammy Award for Dr. Ralph Stanley.

The song choices were largely well-known to dedicated bluegrass listeners, but even so, chestnuts like “I’ll Fly Away” don’t routinely end up on albums that sell eight million copies. Legends like Norman Blake and The Fairfield Four shared the spotlight with rising talent such as Chris Thomas King and The Peasall Sisters. Two decades later, The Whites still perform their version of “Keep on the Sunny Side” on the Grand Ole Opry at nearly every appearance, and to be sure, the audience smiles and applauds to hear it again.

This month, we’ll look at the legacy of that landmark album as an inspiration to a new generation of acoustic musicians, along with an interview with family members of John Hartford, whose name is back on the Grammy ballot this year for the collaborative album, The John Hartford Fiddle Tune Project, Vol 1. We’ll also have a special edition of our Roots On Screen feature about the film. Plus, check out a special IBMA Awards show performance of “Down In the River To Pray” and an archive edition of The Breakdown. And to finish out the month, we asked a crew of young bluegrass and Americana stars what the film means to them. While you’re at it, put down the Dapper Dan and turn up the O Brother, Where Art Thou? soundtrack below.


 

The BGS Radio Hour – Episode 191

We are so excited to bring to you the BGS Radio Hour podcast. Since 2017 the BGS Radio Hour has been a recap of the wonderful music, new and old, that we’ve covered here on BGS throughout the week, broadcast over the airwaves in Murfreesboro, TN, southern California, and around the country. Now you can check back in every Monday for the Radio Hour in podcast form!

APPLE PODCASTS, SPOTIFY
Appalachian Road Show – “Goin’ to Bring Her Back”

This North Carolina-based band, who just released their sophomore album Tribulation, is a supergroup of sorts – with members having formerly played with David Grisman, Mountain Heart, and Josh Turner. “Goin’ to Bring Her Back” is a recent release, in the Road Show’s own style of classic bluegrass.

Ian Foster – “Voyager”

Canadian songwriter Ian Foster first wrote this song when the famous Voyager 1 spacecraft passed into interstellar space, AKA, “the space between the stars.” A monumental moment for all humanity, it inspired this song — which is about faith in ourselves, science, and who we are.

Scythian – “Galway City”

Always a festival favorite, Scythian has a deep connection with their fans: deep enough to have taken over 600 of them along to Ireland on tours over the last seven years. The Virginia-based group brought us a song about those magical nights in Galway City.

Frank Solivan – “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas”

Throughout this holiday season in particular, it’s important to remember those traditions which unite us. Though many holiday reunions may hot happen this year, Frank Solivan brings us this warm reminder of how we’ll “muddle through” for BGS Wraps.

Tina Adair – “Eighteen Wheels and a Dozen Roses”
Tina Adair, lead singer of the powerhouse group Sister Sadie, delivers to us her take on an ’80s classic, originally recorded by Kathy Mattea. Adair and the rest of her bandmates in Sister Sadie are our Artist of the Month this December!

Sarah Harmer – “Little Frogs”

The story we didn’t know we needed. From her new album Are You Gone?, Sarah Harmer brings us a song crafted from summer memories and small pleasures. The video, however, gives us a glimpse into the day in the life of a “little frog.”

Deutsch & Thorn – “Scorpio Sun”

Colorado banjo guru Andy Thorn first recorded this tune with the Colorado Playboys (Travis Book, Jon Stickley, and John Frazier.) Over a decade later, the composition once again is given life in a collaboration with pianist Eric Deutsch recorded in vibrant Mexico City.

The Steel Wheels – “The Healer”

Virginia’s The Steel Wheels were recent 5+5 guests — that’s 5 questions, 5 songs. We chatted with the band about their inspirations, cherished memories of being on stage, and dream musician-meal pairings. This week on the Radio Hour, they brought us a song from their new album, Everyone a Song, Vol. 1.

Katie Oates – “Here in Gastonia”

By way of Katie Oates, this week we honor 29-year-old Ella May Wiggins, a songwriter and textile worker who was shot and killed in an infamous workers’ strike of 1929. This song, written by Si Kahn and from the album We Go On: Si Kahn’s Songs of Hope in Hard Times, reminds us of the ongoing struggle for better lives and justice, for all people.

Jesse Colin Young – “Sugar Babe”

Songwriter and folkster Jesse Colin Young (of the Youngbloods) brought us a return to his roots with his new record Highway Troubadour. The South Carolina-based artist revisits decades of his musical material while exploring a new launch into solo performance.

Ron Pope – “Christmas Where I Come From”

It’s no doubt that we’re all missing people this holiday season and Ron Pope is no exception. While there will be few big family Christmases this year, we can still sit around and sing our favorite Christmas songs, which is exactly what inspired this new release from Pope.

Gillian Welch – “Rambling Blade”

Beloved Gillian Welch and her partner David Rawlings were among the many affected by the Nashville tornados in March 2020. After saving a collection of demo recordings which were scattered amongst the wreckage, Welch has so graciously invited the rest of the world in to hear these 48 unreleased songs. On this episode of the BGS Radio Hour, we bring you “Rambling Blade.”

Sister Sadie – “900 Miles”

Like we said: Sister Sadie is a powerhouse – no ifs, ands, or buts about it. The all-female, hard-driving bluegrass band racked up multiple awards at this year’s IBMA Awards, including the highest honor: Entertainer of the Year. The group is our December Artist of the Month, so check back for tidbits all month long, as we have plenty to feature on Sister Sadie!

The Infamous Stringdusters – “Joy to the World”

One thing that bluegrass bands haven’t been slack on this year is Christmas songs. No exception, the Infamous Stringdusters bring us this classic, done Dusters-style of course, from their new album Deck the Halls.


Photo credit: (L to R) Tina Adair by John Dorton; The Infamous Stringdusters, ‘Dust the Halls’; Gillian Welch by David Rawlings.

Rescuing Her Musical Archive, Gillian Welch Reboots 2020 With ‘Boots No. 2’

Fans of Gillian Welch have been rewarded for their customary patience with an abundance of albums released in 2020. During the earliest days of the pandemic, Welch and her partner, David Rawlings, stayed in and recorded songs from a collection of old songbooks. (The result, All the Good Times, received a Grammy nomination for Best Folk Album last week.) And after literally rescuing an archive of tapes and instruments from a tornado in March — one that blew the roof off their East Nashville studio — the pair set to work on another major undertaking.

This time, the result is even more bountiful: Three albums, encompassing 48 rarely-heard songs written and recorded in 2002 to fulfill a publishing deal. Only a few compositions have seen the light of day, namely the recordings of Alison Krauss & Union Station’s “Wouldn’t Be So Bad,” Solomon Burke’s “Valley of Tears,” and I’m With Her’s “Hundred Miles.” The engaging, one-take performances remained tucked away until this year, but they’ll be compiled into a three-disc box set titled Boots No. 2: The Lost Songs in December, packaged with a book of photography and a songbook of their own. These unearthed tracks were recorded in between 2001’s Time (The Revelator) and 2003’s Soul Journey; meanwhile, Boots No. 1 was an equally satisfying 2016 collection of outtakes from her 1996 debut album, Revival.

BGS caught up with Gillian Welch by phone.

BGS: Prior to preparing these releases, how often did you revisit these recordings?

Welch: Not really, let’s see. They’re pushing 20 years old – they’re 18 years old. I’d say… twice? So, close to once a decade? What would happen is, somebody or an artist that we knew would come to us, asking if we had any songs nobody had heard. Did we have any unreleased songs? One time, Buddy Miller called us up, and I love Buddy. He’s a friend. And he said, “You guys don’t have any country R&B songs, do you?” And I said, “Funnily enough, we’ve got a couple of these that we just didn’t know what to do with.” And he said, “Well, I’m making a record on Solomon Burke!” So, that’s how Solomon came to record “Valley of Tears.”

And same, Alison Krauss heard “Wouldn’t Be So Bad” the day I turned in all these songs to the publishing company. My manager hadn’t even heard them, and my publisher was playing them for my manager, who also managed Alison. They weren’t even pitching her “Wouldn’t Be So Bad.” She was in there to listen to other people’s songs and she heard it through the wall, is what I heard, and came in and said, “What’s that one? It’s awful, that’s just pitiful, I want that one!” [Laughs] So, that’s pretty much how it went. And same thing with I’m With Her. They were looking for some tunes. But truly, man, that’s about it.

How were these recordings made? Did you record them originally on reel-to-reel?

Yeah, they’re on quarter-inch reel-to-reel. They were recorded on a portable Nagra. The old field recordings, when they would take tape machines out to people’s farms and record folk songs and whatnot, these were often the machines they were hauling around. They run on batteries. Just lovely tape machines. So, we had a Nagra at the house and I was singing into a SM57 duct-taped to a guitar stand. [Laughs] My guitar and vocal are going into one microphone. It was very, very minimal, because we didn’t think we were making records, honestly. We weren’t. That’s one of the things that sets this collection apart from our records, is these weren’t records! None of that self-awareness, or self-consciousness, was present. These songs were written in a marathon long weekend and each song was recorded a minute after it was done.

David Rawlings and Gillian Welch by Henry Diltz

All 48 songs were written in a weekend?!

Yes. The ideas, they had languished, unfinished, in writing notebooks. They’d been kicking around. It wasn’t like I had thought of all these things in a weekend. But, I had shortfall with my publishing deal. As we started putting out records and we started touring… I don’t write on the road. So I fell behind. It was like I was never going to be done with it. My life had changed so much, that particular deal had kind of run its course. I didn’t know what to do.

Dave was the one who had the courageous and crazy idea. He was like, “What if we just turn in all the songs?” I sort of laughed, like, “Really? 48 songs?” [Laughs] He was like, “Yeah,” and he started pulling out the old notebooks. I write in spiral-bound, college-ruled notebooks, and there were just stacks of them around. He started pulling them out and we would look for a song that had just never gotten finished.

And he said, “Whatever the song needs, to make it a song, here we go. Right now.” We’re going to do it. He would put this sheet in front of me, and I would try and finish it, and he would go try to find another. And as soon as he came back in, I was supposed to have finished the one he had handed me previously. Then we would turn the tape machine and sing it once, and then that was that. Then we would finish another one. So, yeah, all of these recordings are first vocal takes of me. And I hear it. There’s an off-the-cuff-ness.

As you were recording these songs, were you in chairs facing each other?

I was on the couch! [Laughs] It’s a funny thing, releasing these into the world. It’s strange timing, to have rescued them from a tornado, and to be confronted with them again after all these years. And to literally think, “Why are we saving these?” It was really shocking. You keep things like this, maybe notebooks or photographs or tapes, and you think, “Well, maybe I’ll do something with them someday…” Here’s the sudden realization that they may not always be available to you. A tornado could come along and pulverize the entire thing.

Now, when you say you saved them from a tornado, that’s quite literal.

Oh yeah! That is completely literal. I picked them up in my arms and ran them through a collapsing building, so yes, it is completely literal! In the dark, in cascading water and debris. We physically saved every one of our masters, and every one of our guitars and microphones and gear. … I don’t want to go through that again. It’s the closest window I’ve had to what people go through in extreme duress and trauma. It was really something. That was how our year started out.

As I was looking through some of your press materials, I saw a photograph of you – and the photographer was you. Are you interested in photography? Is that something you’ve taken up?

Yeah, actually, that’s what my degree is in. I have a Bachelor of Arts in photography that I got and promptly made no use of. But I have it! Funny enough, now that we all walk around with cameras on our person, in the form of a phone, at all times, I take more photographs these days than I have since I was an undergrad, you know? I think you’re referring to this record of folk songs that Dave and I made during lockdown, and they said, “Well, we need a picture.” [Laughs] So I took a picture of myself and I took a picture of Dave threading tape on the tape machine that lives in our bookcase.

Gillian Welch by Gillian Welch

I’ve been reading about people who have started to play banjo during the pandemic, to cheer themselves up. Has that been the case for you?

I’ve heard that too! It’s so interesting to see how people are dealing with this, and apparently guitar sales and banjo sales are way up. It’s heartening. Who would have seen that coming? People are learning to play instruments, or returning to ones that have been in the closet for many years, and it’s really a wonderful reaction. We all find our own ways. And for Dave and I, it’s been pulling out all these old folk songs book, flipping them open to a page, and singing all these folk songs. Somehow, that’s been our reaction.

How old are the books?

They’re anywhere from a hundred years old, to fifty years old, forty years old… You know, I like these folk songbooks. I started singing folk songs when I was very young and I came at them not from records, but from this tradition of songbooks and being taught them by teachers and other people. It was not a recorded medium, at first, for me. Strangely, though it sounds incredibly old-timey, it was an oral tradition. …

So, we’re just returning to it. It’s the only thing that made sense to me in April and May of this year, was to sing these songs that touched upon other songs of great upheaval and tragedy and loss. And yet, people came through it, right? It doesn’t matter how dark or tragic the material is. The fact that the song exists tells me that people made it through. That’s part of the great power of folk music. And I use folk as a really, really big word, to cover almost everything! [Laughs] As someone once said, “Folk music is just music sung by folks.”

If I have my timing right, these recordings were made between the O Brother, Where Are Thou soundtrack and Soul Journey. Looking back on that time in your career, there must have been so much happening, and so many commitments you had to honor. Where do you draw strength from, when you start to feel overwhelmed?

Well, that’s an interesting question. When I really start to get overwhelmed, and it has definitely happened this year… It’s been such a challenge to remember who we are, in the face of being separated so much from what we normally do, you know? It’s hard to remember who we are! And I found myself really, in my most dislocated moments, putting on the records that I love. And honestly, this is going to sound kind of crazy, but I’ve heard it from other people, too, who have been putting on our music. Almost to fill the social gaps, to have another person inhabit your home, right? And I did that also. Because I’ve seen no one but Dave, really, and I found myself putting on records and almost communing with them like friends.

I see that there’s a box set coming on vinyl and CD, and there’s a songbook, and a lot of photos. It seems like all of your passions are channeled into one big project.

You know, it was really fun to make that book, that photo-music-lyric book that is a companion to the box set. I’ve never made a book before and it was a really interesting intersection of everything I’ve ever done, with all the photography. I’d say it’s about half [composed of] found photographs, and some photographs of mine, and some photographs of Dave. As it turned out, I realized doing this, there aren’t that many pictures of Dave and I from back then. We didn’t just always have a camera. There are so many pictures to document more current times, but we did find some.

When you listen now to this collection of songs, what kinds of emotions does it bring out in you?

When I listen to them, I think about the craft of songwriting. I think that there’s almost a humbleness to them. There’s not very much ego in them, because I wasn’t writing them to be “recorded by the recording artist Gillian Welch.” I was just trying to have them be songs, and we were so focused on their song-ness. And now 20 years later, I like that about them. We just put things that we were thinking about, and things that we were seeing.

Like in “Back Turn and Swing,” Dave is from New England, and every summer up there, you can’t sit down to a meal where there’s corn on the cob without a protracted discussion about past years’ corn, and how this corn rates against the other years’ corn. It’s funny, it’s hilarious! You just talk about different years of corn! So, I like that that made it in. I like it when these little things that we notice as we go through the world make it into the songs, and this collection has a lot of that. There are a lot of little moments in there.

I’m glad it exists, and it wouldn’t have existed — all of these things would have stayed in the notebook — if it weren’t for having to satisfy my publishing deal! So, I certainly had no hard feelings about any of it. It’s amazing that we did this, and given the timing of everything, I can’t believe in the year of 2020, with all this upheaval and pain and loss and isolation, that we had all of these songs sitting in a box, to say to people, “Here you go.” We rescued them. They are lost no more.


Photo credit (lead): David Rawlings; Photo credit (pair): Henry Diltz; Photo credit (middle): Gillian Welch

BGS 5+5: Northcote

Artist name: Northcote (Matt Goud)
Hometown: Carlyle, Saskatchewan, Canada
Latest album: Let Me Roar (out October 23, 2020)
Personal nicknames (or rejected band names): Matt, Big Cat, Coat

Which artist has influenced you the most … and how?

I was playing solo shows in cafes while in a full-time hardcore band, that’s how it started for me. When the band broke up I moved out west and during that first year of playing solo I would cover Gillian Welch, Chuck Ragan/Hot Water Music and Brian Fallon/The Gaslight Anthem songs in my set. I remember learning Petty and Springsteen songs to fill my set for when I was singing in tourist bars. You can play “The Waiting” and “Dancing in the Dark” for a long time on a Monday night to help nudge along a three-hour set. The artist that has influenced me the most in the last ten years is Dave Hause. He has taken me on the road many times and I have got to see his energy and passion for the job. He plays with the urgency and respect that it could all go away and I admired that because he was/is right. Gillian Welch is the songwriter I come back to the most often and whose records I feel most at home with. John Moreland in the last bunch of years is like that for me as well. Finally, I was in grade 5 or 6 when Shania Twain’s hit songs began to come out and I did perform them lip-synching in school.

What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?

It must have been 2010 or so, maybe earlier. I was playing on my first release as Northcote and was out east in Saint John, New Brunswick. It is a small city and I think I’ve only been back once since. It’s near Fredericton where we usually stop on tour. The venue that day had an alley entrance with brick walls on either side of the alley. The room had a low ceiling and seemed like a small abandoned store. I remember there were things left behind on the floor like folks had left in a hurry. The walls were white and blue like sky. I don’t remember if there was a PA or not. We were packed in the place about 25 of us singing along as I played through my first EP and the singalongs were quite loud. I was surprised and I felt lost and at home all at once. At that time everyone present was a beginner and we were all just giving it an honest try and that is a very sacred place to be in my opinion.

What other art forms — literature, film, dance, painting, etc. — inform your music?

Before bringing my attention to working as a musician I was studying at a religious college training to be a minister. Over the years the sense of poetry from scripture has stuck with me. I’ve gone from the poems of Thomas Merton to Rumi to listening to Ram Dass then back full circle now. In my twenties I explored more angular and art house influences which are still refreshing at times, but less influential these days. I think my answer is religious devotional writing? My god. For more context, my recent influences are Lovecraft Country (TV), Anderson .Paak’s album Ventura, and Miley Cyrus’ “Slide Away.” The two books open on my desk are Teachings of the Christian Mystics and Thich Nhat Hanh’s How to Connect.

What rituals do you have, either in the studio or before a show?

When we were making Let Me Roar, each morning before I took a shower I would put on the album Trance Friendz by Ólafur Arnalds and Nils Frahm. After that I went to the yoga mat to do some work then made coffee and had a few cigarettes. We had boiled eggs most mornings with bagels. After the work day we made dinner together in the kitchenette and watched the hockey playoffs or a lesser-known horror film. During one film the lead character ate a chicken wing out of the fridge after finding a deceased person. The character said, “Honey garlic, I love it.” From then on in the studio, after describing something we would say, “I love it” in honor of the horror film character.

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

I was invited to perform at the Alianait Arts Festival in Iqaluit, Nunavut, a few years back. I wasn’t feeling very good those days and the opportunity to go up North was a bright light for me and is a precious memory that I will never forget. One night up North there was a dinner party hosted by folks in the community. There was a spread of local food and I can’t remember what all was served, but I tried some and enjoyed the warmth and hospitality. There was boxed wine on the rocks and we saw the evening sun. One of those nights some people from the festival invited me to a hall where musicians from the festival were sitting in a circle singing and laughing and telling stories. Since that trip up to play the festival, my wife and I have moved, I quit drinking, we made the new Northcote record and I found meaningful work at my day job in Victoria.

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6Ha8VdD55SEGNJcKWiUAhM?si=IkUWvU1GR6OGDOnMt8ul1g


Photo credit: Matt Postal

In the ’80s and ’90s, These 10 Women Made Bluegrass Better

With this year marking the 75th anniversary of bluegrass, it’s remarkable to note that women emerged as a creative force at roughly the halfway point between then and now. Of course, female musicians have been part of the fabric of bluegrass from the start, with Mother Maybelle Carter, Sally Ann Forrester, and Hazel & Alice among those serving as inspirations through the decades.

However, the role of women as bandleaders, rather than in a supporting role, began to change in the ’80s and flourished in the ’90s. As part of our Bluegrass 75 series, BGS commends these 10 women who carried bluegrass forward with a combination of undeniable talent, strong material, and a refreshing new perspective.

Emmylou Harris

One of the most visible country artists of the ’70s turned her attention to bluegrass, with a support team she deserves (Ricky Skaggs, Jerry Douglas, Dolly Parton, etc.) Her material ranges from the Louvin Brothers to Paul Simon, though that exquisite voice makes the album seamless. It’s one of her finest albums in a brilliant catalog.


Claire Lynch

With a crystalline soprano, Claire Lynch first gained notice as a lead vocalist and guitarist with Front Porch String Band, which released an indie album in 1980 that was picked up by Rebel Records in 1983. The poignant track, “Hills of Alabam,” which she co-wrote, shows her gift for melody and her ability to sing with sincerity.


Laurie Lewis

A key figure of the West Coast bluegrass scene, Laurie Lewis can fiddle with the traditionalists, then hush a crowd with a beautiful acoustic ballad like “Love Chooses You.” As the acolyte of a generation before her, Lewis actively takes an interest in the bluegrass scene’s rising talent, as evidenced on her latest work, an album of duets entitled and Laurie Lewis.


Alison Brown

As a picker, Alison Brown has made her mark on countless recordings and won the 1991 IBMA Award for Banjo Player of the Year. She’s also a co-founder of Compass Records, a producer, and a Grammy-winning artist. At times blazing, and other times mellow, Brown consistently finds just the right tone on her albums’ instrumentals.


Lynn Morris

Blessed with a sweet but persuasive voice, Lynn Morris knew how to get the storyline across, whether she’s reminiscing about “Mama’s Hand” or laying down the law in “You’ll Get No More of Me.” As a banjo player, she had incredible chops, and her grace on stage (and off) has made her one of the bluegrass family’s most beloved figures.


Alison Krauss

A gifted vocalist, bandleader, and fiddler, Alison Krauss kept her early career focused on bluegrass, though her material would soon find its way to millions of country listeners, too. Being a former child prodigy herself, she served as a role model for a generation of younger pickers, while showing traditionalists that bluegrass is indeed in good hands.


Rhonda Vincent

Coming up in a family band, singer and mandolin picker Rhonda Vincent has been working in bluegrass for decades, though she’s always finding ways to keep things fresh. Still, her early albums remain some of her most satisfying work. As a bandleader, she keeps the energy up on stage, and her outgoing personality makes her a true entertainer.


Gillian Welch

While few would consider her albums to be bluegrass proper, Gillian Welch has exerted tremendous influence on its community. A 1993 winner of Merlefest’s Chris Austin Songwriting Contest, Welch has seen originals like “By the Mark” and “Caleb Meyer” become standards, and though she didn’t grow up in Appalachia, her songs somehow embody its heritage.


Dale Ann Bradley

A sterling discovery from the New Coon Creek Girls lineup, Dale Ann Bradley launched her solo career by selecting relatable material along with a surprise or two (including a U2 cover). It’s a template that still serves her well. The title track of East Kentucky Morning captures the mood and melancholy that she continues to convey so well.


Dolly Parton

It’s hard to imagine now, but Dolly Parton had dropped off the mainstream radar in the mid ’90s. Then her first bluegrass album proved what her fans knew all along — she represents her mountain people well. A wonderful mix of familiar favorites and new material, The Grass Is Blue solidified her reputation as one of music’s most important voices.

(Editor’s note: Explore more of our Bluegrass 75 Artist of the Month coverage.)