On October 11, singer-songwriter Woody Platt stood onstage at 185 King Street, a cozy music venue in the depths of the small mountain town of Brevard, North Carolina. And what was supposed to be an album release party for Platt’s Far Away With You became a fundraiser for flood victims of Hurricane Helene, which devastated the region last month.
“I was conflicted about even having a show,” Platt says. “But, then I remembered that music is healing, helpful, and great for the community. It’s also a wonderful way to raise money.”
Dubbed “Rescue Carolina,” the sold-out benefit concert was a genuine celebration of togetherness after the traumatic events and during ongoing struggles of Asheville and greater Western North Carolina. Platt and his wife, acclaimed singer-songwriter Shannon Whitworth, came up with the idea for “Rescue Carolina.”
“Why don’t we use our platform, this show, and our relationships in the community to figure out what’s the quickest and more direct use of these donations to those who need help?” Platt says.
Woody Platt and band as seen from 185 King Street’s backyard. Photo by David Simchock.
At last count, the GoFundMe page for “Rescue Carolina” has raised more than $107,000 and counting. The funds will be doled out to an array of hyperlocal nonprofit organizations, small businesses and residents in need.
“There are many individuals that lost their homes and businesses that were totally destroyed,” Platt noted. “It’s pretty bad out here.”
A Brevard native who still calls Transylvania County home, Platt is the founder and former frontman for the Grammy-winning Steep Canyon Rangers. Formed almost 25 years ago while students at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, the Rangers are a marquee act in the Americana and bluegrass realms.
“It was just us jamming in the college dorm rooms,” Platt recalls. “And then, all of a sudden, we got excited and hit the road.”
In 2022, Platt decided to step away from the Rangers in a genuine effort to spend more time with his wife and young son. And to simply slow down, maybe go fly fishing more – another lifelong passion that’s now parlayed itself into a private guiding service led by Platt.
“I have a habit of turning all my hobbies into careers,” Platt chuckles. “You know, I did 23 years with the Rangers and did enough years on the road to pay my dues out there.”
And yet, even though Platt stepped off the bus, literally and figuratively, the music hasn’t stopped. Quite the contrary. It flows seamlessly and endlessly through the heart and soul of the troubadour like the ancient rivers and creeks in Southern Appalachia.
Standing room only – inside and outside – at 185 King Street for Platt’s release show and Rescue Carolina benefit. Photo by David Simchock.
You’re no stranger to philanthropic causes and have always been involved with charities. Why is it so important to continually be involved in these efforts? Because it can take a lot out of you to do it.
Woody Platt: Yeah, it does, man. Honestly, I come by it real naturally. My whole life, my family has always been at the forefront of fundraising. My mom started the local Boys and Girls Club chapter here. And not just started it, but raised the money for a really significant facility that now services hundreds of kids. It’s a way of life for my family. I really don’t know any other approach than to get in the trenches and try to give back, you know? I mean, I’ve been really lucky, in my life and my career, to have had a lot of community support. And it’s very natural to want to turn back around, if you can, and give back.
And we’re still not out of the woods with efforts here in Western North Carolina. Not by a long shot. Everyone’s just kind of dazed at this point, where it’s like a kind of a “Twilight Zone” thing.
Yeah. I’ve used that term “Twilight Zone” so many times. There’s normalcy and there’s work. People still have to pay the mortgages and do the things they’ve always done. But, you don’t have to look too far to just see somebody in total devastation. You turn the corner and everybody’s all happy up on [a] hill, and then you just go a hundred yards down and you start seeing the devastation. I hope we don’t have to see this again. I tell you what, I hope this was truly a thousand-year flood.
Casey Driessen (fiddle) and Bennett Sullivan (banjo) perform as part of Platt’s band. Photo by David Simchock.
Obviously you scheduled the album release party prior to the flooding and it was aiming to be a special night. But, it just felt like way more of a special occasion. What did that night mean to you?
There were so many layers to that. The first layer was that I’ve never in my career done a Woody Platt concert, just a show that has my name on it. I’ve always done band shows or collective shows with other musicians, but I never just had a show that was sort of centered around music that I made and recorded. So, that in itself, even leading up to the event, had a special feeling to me because that’s a long time coming. And then, you had the hurricane and how the show quickly needed to pivot to a fundraiser – put the record in the backseat and the fundraiser in the front seat. And it kind of created some anxiety, but excitement. During the show, I [played] a lot of the songs from local songwriters right here in Transylvania County. And I invited them all to come and sing a snippet of their song in its original form before I did my version of it back-to-back throughout the night – that made it even more familial and really Transylvania County-centric. It was a special night.
You’ve been playing music for a long time, but it feels like this fresh avenue with the new album. But, how is this all going to work moving forward? Are you going to tour, play with a band, case-by-case gigs?
Well, one of my favorite things about music right now, Garret, is that when I play, it’s just solely about the joy. Not that music wasn’t joyful before, but it’s just coming from a really easy place right now. I’m not worried about the money as much or worried about the tour and all the gigs that you need to put together when you’re full-time on the road. You need to put together a robust [touring] schedule and that can weigh on you a little bit. It’s just the nature of the music business.
So, I feel like I’m playing music from a really free place, and that’s made it so fun that I’ve kind of wanted to do a little more of it. Shannon and I have a band together, and we have sort of a fixed lineup where we play [out] a little bit. This project and this band that I played with the other night, we’re going to play some, but not much. Just enough to scratch that itch and enjoy music in its just simplest form, which to me is just wonderful. I do anticipate a handful of gigs, but there’s no sort of pressure attached to it. It’s a fun place to be.
Shannon Whitworth and Woody Platt soundcheck before the show. Photo by David Simchock.
Well, it’s where you’ve always wanted to be.
A hundred percent. And that’s where it started early on. You know, with the Rangers, we got so many offers and were so busy for so long. It was incredible and such a fun ride, but it’s one of those things [to be on the grind].
The Rangers are such a freight train with their touring. Then you wonder, “Should I step off the train?” or “What’s going to happen when I step off the train?” But, you stepped off the train and you found stability in your life.
Yeah, it’s pretty crazy. Somebody asked me just yesterday, “Did you anticipate making a record? Did you anticipate playing these gigs with these different guys and developing a new repertoire?” And honestly, I didn’t. I just knew I needed to step off that train and the rest would unfold naturally. And that’s what’s happening, you know? And I was so flattered to get tucked in with Compass Records and work with [label owners] Alison [Brown] and Garry [West].
You talk about being in a free space, and that’s the way I felt listening to the album. It felt very light and that you had a kick in your step, like momentum was moving forward. There’s no heaviness on the record.
And I’m glad. I just wanted it to come from a really easy place, and get to sing with Shannon. We sing together all the time, but we’ve recorded together very little. And so, with having her there, I wanted it to be easy, fun, fresh, happy and all the things.
And that’s where you’re at right now.
You better believe it, man.
A huge crowd watches from 185 King Street’s cozy backyard. Photo by David Simchock.
When you first left the Rangers, I remember you telling me that the goal was: more time with family and more fishing, with one foot still in music.
The goal was family first. I only got one little boy, and I felt like I was missing a lot of that. When I go to the studio now, it’s like a day job, where I come right home. And when I go fishing, it’s just a few hours and I come home and sleep in my own bed. I’ve got a nice balance of those three things you mentioned. Still being front and center with the family, enjoying [fishing], and keeping the music in a good place — it’s kind of a dream come true at this point.
At whatever level you may be plugged into the online bluegrass scene, you have surely heard, seen, or scrolled into content by Bronwyn Keith-Hynes and Brenna MacMillan. These two young, talented pickers are part of a vibrant and blossoming community of traditional musicians and folk artists that includes folks like Cristina Vane, Victor Furtado, Hilary Klug, Wyatt Ellis, and many more.
What makes these creators stand apart, especially Keith-Hynes and MacMillan, is that they aren’t just shoehorning social media into their art-making and creative processes to move up Music City ladders and check abstract music industry boxes. Instead, they’ve intentionally demonstrated how powerful, engaging, and charming content can be when it’s made with art, creativity, tradition, and joyful, cooperative generation as its focal points. Instead of bending over backward to construct virality and lean into transient socials trends, they let their talent, their songs, and their communities do all the talking.
In May, Keith-Hynes released her second solo album, I Built a World, her first project to center songs and her recently-developed, impressive vocals. Drawing on musicians and pickers from her immediate circle and her main gig – Molly Tuttle & Golden Highway – as well as tapping notable country stars and bluegrass legends, the project finds Keith-Hynes at her most confident and unbothered. This is a fiddler-singer-front woman who has found her voice – literally, through work, practice, and vocal lessons as well as figuratively, not satisfied to craft a career on bowing the fiddle alone.
Later this year, MacMillan will release her debut solo album. Its lead single, “What’s to Come,” features Ronnie McCoury and is indeed a harbinger for the superb album to follow. This project, which highlights MacMillan’s prolific songwriting and features her musical community fleshing out the band, is built directly upon the successes she, Keith-Hynes, and others have found on the internet. Eschewing labels, management, or traditional roll outs, MacMillan will release the project herself, with funds raised on GoFundMe, bringing the music directly to her consumers on her own website and socials channels without “middle men.”
So, not only are MacMillan and Keith-Hynes innovating on ideas around what it means to be a side person, a career picker, and multi-hyphenate, professional traditional musicians, they’re taking all of their expertise as online brands and businesswomen to find success for themselves, on their own terms. They’re focusing on what matters, centering their communities, and making incredible, superlative music at the same time.
BGS connected with MacMillan and Keith-Hynes together via video chat to talk about their unique approaches to making albums, content, and music, while highlighting the deep and tight-knit “bluegrass influencer” circle they’ve each helped create since moving to Nashville and putting their all into bluegrass.
I wanted to start by talking about community and musical community – one of the reasons why I wanted to have you both in conversation with each other is how you each rely on, draw from, and center your musical communities in what you create. It may look like these are solo projects that you’re making, but they’re clearly not solitary projects – and they don’t really feel like vanity projects, either. from the outside looking in either. It really feels you’re making music with other people so you can make music with other people. Could you talk about your work, your solo albums, and working in your communities?
Bronwyn Keith-Hynes: Yeah, I think first and foremost, me and Brenna are good friends and we just ended up being drawn together. We both moved to Nashville around the same time and ended up doing a lot of things together and had a lot of similar interests. That’s cool to find. I haven’t found that many women who have my same interests until I moved to Nashville and then all of a sudden I felt like there was a whole bunch. It’s been really awesome to find that.
First of all, I’m just such a fan of so many people, and I wouldn’t want to make music any other way. My project was based around songs from my community, which was really special to me. It was like a little nerve wracking reaching out to friends and people I respected to be like, “Do you have a song that you’re not going to record that I could record?” But, thankfully, a lot of people did – including Brenna – and I ended up recording one of her songs. And, she sang on it and it was awesome!
I feel like I couldn’t do it alone. I know my strengths and then I know other people’s strengths and I want to make sure we’re all [drawing on our strenghts]. I don’t know if singing is my strength, but it’s something I feel passionate about and feel driven to do for whatever reason. I know the things that I want to put out in the world; I want to make sure the music I’m making has the best parts of myself, but then the best parts of everyone else who’s playing on it.
I think that folks who aren’t just straight white men in this industry, we realize from the get-go that we have to have others with us. We have to do it together. Otherwise we’re not going to go the distance. I feel that in both of your music, as well. But Brenna, I wonder what that question brings up for you, as you’re thinking about and positioning your album to release as well?
Brenna MacMillan: It’s funny, because when Bronwyn asked about songs that I had, I had like a bunch and at that time I wasn’t even thinking about [making] an album at all. I think it was maybe like a couple months later that I decided, based on my friends that kept being like, “You should record some of these songs!” And I was like, “I guess…” I wasn’t thinking about it at all whatsoever.
Then that’s another way like to get my songwriting out there, too. And why wait for someone to come to me for songs if they don’t even know that there are songs? Besides my friends, which is who I first would want to do my songs anyway. It’s funny, because obviously it’s really cool putting out your own music, but I still get more excited when “Riddle” comes on than when “What’s to Come” comes on. [Laughs] That is so cool!
Someone else’s vision for your song, it’s like the coolest thing ever to me. Because, I know what my brain comes up with so it’s not shocking, but someone else’s ideas around something that you wrote – it’s like the coolest thing ever, and I guess that’s why I love the community. I feel like community is like the word that I say way too much, but I do I love it. For Bronwyn, Cristina [Vane], Hilary [Klug], Emily, and Mallory, to some extent back in 2018, we all were moving to town around that time and then 2020 hit and I think that’s when we all got a little closer, because we were all bored and wandering around. I took a lot of walks with my friends, individually, we tried to stay across the path from each other, but I think those bonding moments brought us closer. We were like, “Let’s get coffee” or “let’s get dinner,” and then we ended up making a video or something and it all evolved into great friendship, plus people online being like, “Oh, we like to hear you guys play together!”
One of the things I love most about that whole community of content creators – you’re talking about Cristina Vane and a lot of these other folks you create with here in Nashville – it never feels like you’re trying to shoehorn bluegrass into contemporary content creation. It really seems that making bluegrass music and making roots music with your friends is the impetus, and then you made it fit into social media – instead of vice versa. Like, it’s happened organically and from a community standpoint first, and not just from “I have a social strategy. I have a five year plan.” Do you agree or disagree?
BM: Oh yeah, I agree. There’s not much strategy that’s happened in here. There’s not a lot of that going on. [Laughs]
And yet, I can tell you objectively from the outside looking in, y’all are still operating with 110% more strategy in mind than most of bluegrass. [Laughs]
BKH: I feel like Brenna and I have both talked about – correct me if I’m not saying this right, Brenna – wanting social media to serve us, rather than for us to serve social media. The end goal, for at least for both of us, is not like to become a social media star, it’s to have it serve us, to get our names and our music out to more people.
BM: Yeah! And it felt like it was very random that social media took off for me. I was just like, “Where are you guys coming from? Why do you want to hear me kick off a J.D. Crowe song like every day?” But at the same time, it has its own frustrations and that’s when me – and I think a bunch of the other girls that do this side by side with their music careers – we’re like, “We’re going to have this, but only if it makes sense for helping promote our live gigs and any projects we’re doing.” But as soon as I get nasty comments, or this, or that I’m like, “Oh, I will literally just get off of this app if it’s going to go this direction.” I just block people and then keep going.
I want an audience who will appreciate the things that I want them to appreciate. I think that I’ve trained my audience, too. Basically I shoved it in there, “You are going to listen to this slow song and try to enjoy that. And if you don’t, then I’m going to take you [out of my following]…” Because there have been some people who think that I am a content creator on there, and I’m like, “No, I play music and I took an hour out of my day and posted this video and we’re lucky that happened. Now I’m on my way to a gig and I don’t need some [negative] comment.” But you could come to a live gig and request a song!
Brenna, one of the things I love about your upcoming album and the messaging around it is that you’re really doing a direct-to-consumer business model and roll out. You’re being like, “Y’all can come to me. You already know how to find me, so this is where you can find the music, too.” I think it’s amazing and again, it’s the cutting edge of what the future of bluegrass will be while it’s also so fucking trad. It’s like back in the day, when bluegrass music required taking the car battery out of the car to play a show in the high school auditorium and then putting the battery back in to drive to the next high school auditorium.
It’s like you’re doing that in the 21st century. You’re being a DIY bluegrass musician, but in 2024. Can you talk a little bit about the direct to consumer model you’re using with your album roll out?
BM: I was like, I need to build a website so that there’s everything in one place – I remember why I did it, too, because there are a bunch of fake accounts. I knew I needed something out there to be authentic and to have all of my official links. That was literally my number one goal with the website. So now, here’s the link to my website, you can find my YouTube channel, my Facebook, my Instagram, my TikTok from there. And you’re going to know you’re in the right place. I’ve basically just started to try to push everything to my website and go from there to everything else, even if it’s taking you back to Instagram. Because [the website is] where everything’s going to happen, so that you know that it’s me instead of some person scamming you. I guess with that in mind, I started trying to link everything, like in my stories, when I’m talking about anything coming up, I just say, “Go to my website!”
Bronwyn, I wanted to ask you again about community and about bringing your circle, your scene into your album. I love all of the features on your album and I also love that it doesn’t just feel like you’re reaching for a Collaborative Recording of the Year nomination.
[All laugh]
But I wanted to know how it felt to you, as you were thinking about who you wanted to have on the record and why you wanted to have them on the record?
BKH: I’m glad to hear you say that it feels like it’s in service of the music, because that was definitely my intent. It was the funnest part of [recording the album], for me. I did kind of make those decisions after the tracks were done and I’d done my vocals. I just didn’t know how it was going to turn out until I heard it. Then I would brainstorm with Brent [Truitt], and Jason [Carter], and whoever about who to get on it. Dudley Connell was somebody I was really excited about and I’d never met him. I didn’t know him. Someone just gave me his number, I called him up and left him a nervous voicemail. But yeah, he turned out to be the sweetest guy ever – and he’s a bluegrass hero, I love all those Johnson Mountain Boys records.
It’s crazy especially being a new singer, I haven’t heard my voice recorded much ever. Then to hear my voice with all these other voices that I know and I’ve heard a lot – to hear like that combination for the first time – it was like very surreal!
What was it like working with Dierks [Bentley]? We all know his bluegrass pedigree and his connections to the Station Inn and to the McCourys and that he’s always had one foot so solidly in bluegrass, but y’all would have gotten to know him and got to spend some time with him on the road with Molly Tuttle & Golden Highway, too. I wondered how how that conversation happened and also what it felt like to you to have someone who has gold records and platinum records collaborating with you on your record?
BKH: I grew with his Up On The Ridge album, it was literally one of the first bluegrass albums I heard around my college years. I was obsessed with it and I thought it was so cool. It got me into listening to the more trad stuff, but I’d always loved his music and then being Jason [Carter’s] partner, and Jason and he were friends even before he was famous. So they’ve been friends from the get go.
I’d met him a few times through Jason and then again when we were on tour [opening for him], that was cool. ‘Cause I felt like we could meet [more as peers], not just because I’m somebody’s partner. But now, this is my gig and this is your gig. And you’re asking us to sit in every night. I felt a little bit more comfortable to make that ask. He just came into Brent’s studio one day and tracked it in under an hour. He’s great! Very quick.
Brenna, talk to me a little bit and if you have features on your upcoming album – and if you can’t talk about them yet, that’s totally fine.
BM: I know, I was trying to think of what I should say – I don’t know, I’m the one in charge! But let me check, I don’t know if Brenna wants to tell all that yet. [Laughs]
At the very least, we can talk about Ronnie [McCoury] and “What’s to Come.” Ronnie’s one of my favorites. Talk a bit about, again, bringing in community and bringing in the scene that already surrounds you.
BM: The core band in the studio was [Mike] Bub on bass and Jake Stargel on guitar. Me, I played banjo on four or five of the tracks, but I have been writing a lot on clawhammer lately and I know that I’m not good at it, so I had Frank Evans come in for those and then I had Cory [Walker] play on a couple very last minute. I was thinking, it’s just going to be better if he does it.
When the special guests ideas popped in my brain, I was thinking, “Do I want special guests to be like my friends, my age, or like people that I really are like heroes of mine? Is this the time to ask them? I don’t know.” Nobody knows who I am, but that’s okay. I had met Ronnie a handful of times in kind of settings where it was like, “I’m here with so and so” and I’m just a little curmudgeon. [Laughs]
“What’s to Come,” it’s like a reflective life song. I know that I sound like a small baby when I sing, and I was thinking of someone with an older sounding voice. Like wanting ancient, lonesome vibes so that there could be old and young together, pondering about life. If you’re young or if you’re old, you still ask all the same questions about life.
Also, [Ronnie’s] gritty mandolin playing. I love it so much. Jarrod Walker played on most of the core mandolin stuff, but he happened to be out of the country that session. I was like, this is perfect! But it’s funny, because I didn’t even know if Ronnie was going to bring his mandolin! [Laughs]
To wrap up, here’s a question I had for both of you, because you’re both musical shape shifters. You move in and out of musical contexts so easily; you’re both side people, you’re both front people, you’re both social media brands. How do you maintain your senses of self?
BKH: I feel like I can’t get away from myself! I don’t feel like I ever even think about that. The only way I’ve struggled with that a little bit, or thought about that more, is doing the solo projects. That’s where I’m like, “Wow. OK. What would Bronwyn do next?” But I think I know what I like and I know what I want to do. I’m just like, “How am I going to do that? I need to figure that out.
BM: I think similarly, I don’t really think about it that much. I think I know what I like, too. And I know what I don’t like. From the get go, I’ve very much just been myself online. I come home from the lab job and do a video with dark circles [under my eyes] and grunge and smelling like hemp trash. That’s what I established from the beginning. So now, I feel comfortable being myself.
Pretty much everything has been my own ideas and, it’s funny, because ten of my eleven songs are originals on the album, three of which are co writes, but hearing it come to life in the studio with other people, it still ended up being what I thought it should be. Which is weird, because there’s no way that I could bring some of these musicians into the studio who are eons beyond what I could imagine, but they knew exactly what the track needed. It does sound like me still and what my vision would have been if I had expressed it [all myself].
BKH: I feel like I’m like more myself these days than I’ve ever been. I feel like for a while, starting out in bluegrass, I had a lot of ideas of what a woman in bluegrass needed to look like, or be, or act like. In the last couple years, maybe inspired by being with Molly in Golden Highway, I feel like I’ve been able to let a lot of that stuff go – about how I should dress and whatever. Now, I embrace the things I actually like.
Photo Credit: Brenna MacMillan by Sophie Clark; Bronwyn Keith-Hynes by Alexa King Stone.
Artist:Mike Barnett Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee Song: “Hybrid Hoss” Album:+ 1 Release Date: March 19, 2021 Label: Compass Records
Editor’s Note: Fiddle player Mike Barnett’s collaborative album, + 1, was slated for a late summer 2020 release, but plans were derailed when he suffered a cerebral hemorrhage at his home in Nashville in July. He underwent two successful surgeries and an initial round of rehabilitation in Atlanta, and will soon begin intensive rehabilitation in Chicago. There, accompanied by his wife, fiddler Annalise Ohse, he will work to “reconnect his brain to his fingers.” In the midst of continuing his recovery, Barnett is very excited about getting the music on + 1 to the fans and community that have offered him so much support. Go to Mike Barnett’s GoFundMe page to contribute to his recovery fund.
In Their Words: “Here’s a good old Bill Monroe classic… oh wait, except for the ‘A’ part. I put one note per ping pong ball and played lottery bingo for that part… just kidding, though it might sound that way. I sometimes enjoy taking tunes outside the box, but still maintain some semblance of where it came from. This is a hybrid of ‘outside’ and ‘in’ based on Bill Monroe’s ‘Wheel Hoss.’ Grounding this in the tradition of banjo/fiddle seemed appropriate. Cory Walker’s instincts and diverse musical pallet make him one of very few people who could tackle this.” — Mike Barnett
One of the most significant casualties of the new coronavirus may be the live music experience. By the time concert venues and local listening rooms are able to reopen — and nobody knows when that will be — it may be too late for a large majority of locally-owned clubs, who simply can’t afford months and months of bills without being able to generate revenue.
Gia Hughes, production manager of Hotel Café in Hollywood, California, is spreading the word about this dire situation to artists and fans through The National Independent Venue Association and its social media campaign, #saveourstages.
“Without proper support, the live independent music venues you know and love will close,” she says. “Historic institutions in their brick-and-mortar form will not be able to weather this storm. The stages that first provided homes for the Adeles, Katy Perrys, Hoziers, and Lumineers of the world will cease to be. It will take a group effort to survive, and independent venues need you now more than ever. Please support your local institutions, and help spread the word.”
Hughes spoke to BGS about NIVA, and what the shutdown means for grassroots artists as well as live music listeners.
BGS: Can you tell us about the formation of NIVA? How did you and the venue get involved?
Hughes: The National Independent Venue Association (NIVA) formed at the start of the COVID-19 and shelter-in-place orders. We joined without hesitation; we are stronger in numbers. While we have all been working together to flatten the curve and keep our staff and communities safe, we must look forward to how independent venues will financially survive this shutdown.
There are now over 1,600 members spanning all fifty states, and each day there are action points we all touch on to help spread the word of this cause. Independent venues are needing federal financial assistance that will help us see this through. With no — or very little — revenue coming in, 90% of independent venues don’t think they’ll be able to survive a shutdown of six months (or more) if they don’t receive help from the federal government.
How would the permanent closure of independent clubs affect the grassroots music community?
The ripple effect would be felt throughout the music industry internationally. I’ll use us as an example. We host up to ten artists (sometimes more) — consisting of both local and touring acts — per night between both of our stages. Oftentimes, we are a stop on a national tour, or we are showcasing up-and-coming acts to labels, managers, A&Rs, publishers, and more.
But in the age of streaming, there’s nothing quite like seeing an artist live. That’s why so many acts are signed after performing at our venue. Without the presence of independent clubs, independent music could suffer greatly. Without a live outlet, there will be no person-to-person connection between artists and fans, between artists and industry, and between artists and their peers. So many independent artists make their income by performing live, as well as by selling merch to fans after their shows. Without independent clubs, local music communities would disappear.
According to NIVA’s letter to Congress, “It is estimated that for every $1 spent on a ticket at small venues, a total of $12 in economic activity is generated within communities on restaurants, hotels, taxis, and retail establishments.” Local business and culture would lose a sizable source of revenue without our businesses bringing in patrons.
And without independent clubs and the independent grassroots community, how would artists truly get discovered, or cut their teeth becoming the next star? Without independent clubs and the independent grassroots community, there would be no truth in music. Plus, local culture would suffer for the loss of it. We would lose so much of what makes music so special. We’d lose that soul connection.
How many shows did you have to cancel / postpone in the wake of COVID restrictions?
Canceling or postponing shows also means canceling and postponing work for our employees, as well as for our vast network of session musicians. For us — we’ve had to cancel hundreds of shows, and counting. We book up to ten acts per night, split between both of our stages, and we’ve been closed for over two months now. Not to mention, we can’t book moving forward since we don’t know when or how we’ll be able to reopen.
For Los Angeles, thousands of shows have already been cancelled between venues like us, The Troubadour, The Bootleg, The Echo, The Satellite, and others. There’s no end in sight.
What can fans of live music do to help (outside of filling out the petition)?
The best thing fans of live music can do right now for independent venues is support them directly by contributing to their GoFundMe or benefit pages, buying tickets to future shows, and buying merch if it’s available. And make some noise via www.saveourstages.com, and share this information with your friends. The more eyes that are on this pressing issue, the more likely independent venues will be to get the support they need from the federal and state government.
Operating a local music club is no small feat. What has kept you invested in the live music scene for all these years?
There is nothing like live music — nothing. When you see those rare shows with artists who you know have that something special, there is just nothing more wonderful than that. And when you get to advocate for them, and make sure their voices are heard, there are few things more gratifying.
The Hotel Café is also a rare anomaly in Los Angeles. We are the home of an actual community of artists and music fans. We’re a safe haven where people can connect with music, yes, but also with each other. Often times, people come by just to hang out with staff, or with fellow musicians, even if they don’t know who’s playing or who’s there; they know they’ll run into someone they know. Or they’ll come by to discover a new artist, because they know they’ll see an act no one knows yet, but will soon become a household name. Not to mention, you never know who might pop up on stage and surprise you. Our community and scene are so special, and I’m grateful to be a part of it, and I’m grateful to be able to champion the next great artists.
This shoot happened just a few days after venues began closing and tours were being cancelled due to the coronavirus. Lilly Hiatt and I decided to continue, holing up in an empty venue called Drkmttr Collective here in Nashville by ourselves for a few hours. (You can support Drkmttr’s GoFundMe to help keep them afloat, if you feel inclined.)
Lilly is a mixture of bright sunshine and intense badassery; her good nature and spirit was a welcomed respite from the scary unknown so many of us artists were heading into then, and of course are still navigating. I thought Drkmttr Collective would be a great spot for her — a little quirky, a lotta rock ‘n’ roll. The three outfits she sported fit easily into the feel of the place.
As it stands, this was my last shoot before so much was canceled and shut down, but we no doubt ended on a high note. Until next time! Stay safe and well out there, y’all. — Laura Partain
Pictured above, Lilly wears a Low Cut Connie tee and Blank NYC leather jacket.
Lilly wears a glitter mock turtleneck top from H&M, Top Shop jeans, and Frye boots.
Strap and buckle detail of Lilly’s Frye boots.
Lilly wearing a red Petites by Willi top from Anaconda Vintage in Nashville, necklace by Madewell, and Top Shop jeans.
Necklace by Madewell, Frito Pie ring by Snash Jewelry, black stone ring by Pale Silver, and red Petites by Willi top.
The top by Petites by Willi, necklace by Madewell, Frye boots, and Top Shop jeans look is completed with a Rickenbacker and an earplug dispenser at Drkmttr Collective in Nashville.
All photos by Laura Partain
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