Tag: Good Country

35 Songs That Hate Nashville

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Hating on Nashville – whether Music City, Music Row, Lower Broadway, the tourists, the industry, the traffic, or almost anything and everything else – is a trope and tradition essential to country itself. As long as this town has been a roots music mecca it’s been a curse, too. It’s a maker and breaker of dreams that’s all at once exactly what it is and what it looks like, and a figment of your imagination, too.

On the roots songwriter’s map, it might be the capital city. Flanked by Memphis and “Carolina” and Los Angeles and Malibu and the bluegrass of Kentucky and the “concrete jungle where dreams are made of,” all familiar locales to songsters of all genres referencing places and cities. Places are excellent characters in songs, and we return to our favorite destinations over and over as we relish tracks like “Dublin Blues,” “Eight More Miles to Louisville,” “Big Ball in Brooklyn,” “Take Me Home Country Roads,” and so many more.

But isn’t there just something special about songs that hate Nashville? As a motif, it stands out among songs about places or among places as a trope, in country and outside of it. Songs that hate Nashville can ooze pain or vengeance. They can be aspirational or giving up all hope. But perhaps their real unifier, besides Music City itself, is that each and every song that offers a variation on this theme is really, at its core, declaring a deep love for the town.

In March, country artist, singer, and songwriter Ashley Monroe surprise released an eight-track original album, Dear Nashville. Not quite a concept album – perhaps rather having a concept at its core, instead of as its entirety – it’s an incisive and vulnerable demonstration of Monroe’s love… and hatred of Music City. “I Hate Nashville” opens the album with gauzy pads and a forward-leaning train beat as Monroe sings words that clearly haunt her, and so many like her. Lyrics often uttered by the gatekeepers of the world, the holders of the keys to this city. “They can’t make you a star,” “somethin’ ain’t stickin’,” “pay your dues.”

The rest of the song, though, is something different. It’s exasperated and exhausted, yes. Defeated, almost. But it’s not a hate letter Monroe is writing to her hometown of decades. She sings on the chorus:

Country music
Is the reason I’m alive
Paul Franklin playin’ steel
God knows I love Vince Gill
But I hate Nashville

And wouldn’t you know it, that mournful, heart-wrenching pedal steel singing along with Monroe’s beautiful, East Tennessee voice is played by Paul Franklin himself. Because that’s what Nashville is capable of. That’s what it does best. It makes dreams reality, it makes friends of idols. It can be everything you pictured, but wouldn’t let yourself believe is possible.

Wrote a lot of songs
Made a lot of friends
And if I’m being honest
I’d do it all again
I remember the first time
I saw the skyline shining
Sometimes the road to the top’s
A lot of downhill climbin’

Verse two captures the duality of songs that hate Nashville perfectly. Monroe is displeased with the industry, with the machinations of a community designed to reap profits and profits and profits, and that isn’t so concerned with art or country anymore. But her dreams have come true. She has paid her dues – and then some – and she’s made records and sung songs with Franklin, Vince Gill, Miranda Lambert, and so many more name-droppable peers, heroes, legends, and virtuosos. And, if she’s being honest, she’d “do it all again.” Who wouldn’t?

In each of these 35 songs, you’ll find artists just like Monroe, from across generations and from a variety of backgrounds and origin points inside and outside Music City. Each grapples with these same essential questions of this place. Of Nashville, Tennessee. Struggling with the industry, or Music Row, or the politics of each. Some demonstrate internal battles, others are so external they itch. There are songs that decry capitalism and that long for acceptance by it. There are songs of love lost and romantic haunts turned sour. You may hear someone writing on the outside looking in, or the inside looking out. It’s all compelling, the same but different.

Whatever you hear across these songs that hate Nashville, you’ll hear excellent music and a country tradition so essential to the format it belongs right next to losing your love, your truck, your dog, your house, your job, your… dream of making it in Nashville. Three chords, the truth, and hating Nashville. It’s as country as it gets.

“Heartbreak Town” – The Chicks

“Square people in a world that’s round.” That’s an indictment, for sure, written as only Darrell Scott could. Scott is well-practiced in songs that hate Nashville whether this magnificent track made even more delicious by the Chicks or “Long Time Gone,” also cut by the Chicks and included on this playlist, or even “Hopkinsville,” a Scott original inspired by longing to be done working on the Shelby Street bridge downtown. The Chicks sold the true heartbreak of Nashville on this number even before the city’s central machine turned its ire toward them. As we all know, they survived being on the receiving end of Music City’s ire more than once – and made millions doing it.

“Kay” – John Wesley Ryles

A story song for the ages, and about Nashville, to boot. “Kay” is sung from the perspective of a depressed taxi driver, “I’m living and I’m dying, staring out at Music City, from my cab.” The singer moved his love, Kay, to town to give her a shot at making it big. He’s hearing her record on the jukebox – it “don’t sound bad.” Woof. Gut punch. (At least if she’s gonna be famous, let her sound bad!) The perspective in the song is dynamic and surprising in a modern context, but reminds of how literary and poetic country story songs in the ‘60s and ‘70s could be. And how narratively dense. “Kay” peaked at No. 9 in the U.S. and is Ryles’ best-known record.

“Nashville Blues” – Billy Strings, Bryan Sutton

Out of so many versions to choose from, we chose this one. Can you blame us? Perhaps Bryan Sutton’s joke at the top is the real reason it belongs on this playlist. He introduces “Nashville Blues,” a classic in the bluegrass and old-time canon, thusly, “Here’s a song about Nashville that Billy wrote on the way here stuck in traffic.” The crowd cheers at the joke and a man can be heard responding, “That’s gonna be a long song.” Everybody at the sold-out American Legion neighboring the famous, coveted 37206 zip code laughs. Hating Nashville unites us.

“Ten Year Town” – Hailey Whitters

Speaking of dues, Ashley Monroe’s “I Hate Nashville” immediately brings to mind Hailey Whitters’ “Ten Year Town.” Released in 2020 on The Dream, it drives to the heart of the strange but usual expectations projected by others and ourselves – onto Nashville, careers, dreams, and music- and art-making. What Whitters is really singing about – and Monroe, too, to a degree – is that country music is a trade. Whitters is asking what else she could do besides this, while noting all she’s had to do besides make music in order to make music her trade. But if, like Monroe and Whitters, the trade you’ve plied your whole life or for decades can’t make you a living, what good is paying dues? In investing 12 years in a “ten year town”?

“Nashville Without You” – Tim McGraw

You know what else is country AF? Referencing country songs in a country song. If roots music is going to be one thing, it’s going to be self-referential. All songs about Nashville do this to a degree, but Tim McGraw’s “Nashville Without You” does it remarkably well. Especially for highly stylized mainstream radio country such as this. As a bonus, this is also an “I Left My Heart in San Francisco” sort of love song, where one’s relationship to a place is entirely colored by another person and your shared connection to that place. Ryles’ “Kay” in another generation!

“Nashville” – Indigo Girls

Let’s not forget the folks who have the most reason to hate Nashville – in the music industry and outside of it – have always been women, queer folks, Black and Brown folks, and disabled folks. That’s certainly part of why so many women have written such excellent songs panning Music City. There’s an added layer of truth, an extra heaping helping of grit. 70 cents on the dollar, 12 years to equal the ten-year town requirement.

As an extension of that theory then, being both women and queer as alt-country indie folk artists in the ‘90s is a huge part of what imbues the Indigo Girls’ “Nashville” with honesty and resonance. It’s artful in its lyricism and for painting as much with absence as presence, fleshing out the story by leaving it out here and there. But it’s the perfect song to leave off with, as you continue your listening to the full 35-song playlist below.

Emily Saliers and Amy Ray touch yet again on the maelstrom of mixed feelings musicians and creatives feel about this place, reminding of the central existential love/hate in Monroe’s “I Hate Nashville.” Saliers sings:

I’m leaving
I’ve got all these debts to pay
You know we all have our dues
I’ll pay ’em some other place
I never ask that you pay me back
We all arrive with more
I left with less than I had

The song is so seemingly over-and-done-with Nashville and yet, there’s a crack under the door. The window is not quite latched. A pathway however slight to wiggle back in. You can see it again elsewhere in the song, “I can’t place no blame/ But if you forget my face/ I’ll never call your name again.” Are they singing to a person? To the industry? To Nashville? To all of the above?

One thing we know for sure, they hate (love) Nashville. Just like Monroe. Because how does she close her album, Dear Nashville? It’s how we decided to close our playlist, too. With “Quittin’.” Another song co-written by Monroe with co-producer Luke Laird. It ends:

So much for quitting
I guess I’ll stay on the ride
‘Til the day that I die

We should hope so. There are so many more songs about hating Nashville to write and to enjoy!

Below, sample many more songs that hate Nashville from artists like Marty Stuart, John Anderson, John Hartford, Margo Price, Donovan Woods, Lindi Ortega, Kacey Musgraves, Steve Earle, Kris Kristofferson, Charley Crockett, Dale Watson, Waylon Jennings, and many more.

Additional contributions and curation by Shelby Williamson. 

Photo Credit: Ashley Monroe by Becky Fluke.

Drayton Farley Asks the Big Questions

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

You’ve got to have some durability to name your album A Heavy Duty Heart. For Drayton Farley, paying a decade’s worth of dues is an important part of the story.

After a slow but steady build of recording albums and relentless touring, Farley picked up four significant synch placements in 2025, with songs “Blue Collar,” “Touch and Go,” and “It’s Called Doubt” heard in the Paramount+ series Landman, and “Turn Around” appearing in the CBS show Sheriff Country. That remarkable achievement seemed like a perfect way to set up A Heavy Duty Heart, which was recorded with his touring band and produced by Sadler Vaden.

“What I found is, usually the biggest enemy is me when it comes to how I’m feeling about how it’s going,” Farley says. “When things like that happen, it pulls you again out of your head and reminds you, ‘No, everything’s going great, actually. You’re doing really well, and you should just keep doing it and get out of your head a little bit.’”

In an interview with Good Country, the Birmingham, Alabama-based singer-songwriter retraces his trajectory to becoming one of roots music’s most promising performers. He explains why he considers Robert Earl Keen a role model and shares the song that still makes his wife cry.

The opening song, “Love We Mean,” captures that moment in a relationship where you have a rare moment to reflect. What was on your mind as that song was taking shape?

Drayton Farley: Yeah, it was pretty much that. I wanted to write a song about that moment where the kids are gone and you’re not on the road and there’s not a lot going on. All of a sudden, you’re both just at the house and there’s nothing to do or worry about. [Laughs] And you’ve both been going a hundred miles an hour, sometimes in the same direction, sometimes in the other direction, but all of a sudden, everything just kind of stops and gets quiet. Then you’re both looking at each other like, “What the hell just happened?” And you start kind of taking stock and checking in.

I sensed a theme throughout this album of assessing where you are in life and asking those big questions. Then I looked you up and saw that you’re just 30 years old. Have you always been the kind of guy who’s willing to look inward and analyze the world around you?

Yeah, I think so. I don’t know why. I think that feels easier to do. I celebrate my 10th wedding anniversary in May. You know, I’m only 30, but I guess I’ve worked enough of the real jobs and been married long enough with two daughters now, these kinds of things feel required to do.

What were the day jobs you had before you could finally dedicate yourself to music?

Out of high school, I spent about three and a half years working on the railroad [as a subcontractor for Norfolk Southern doing derailment cleanups]. I got married while I was working there, then quit that job, and I got a job working for Mercedes-Benz. I worked on the assembly line building cars for the next four years. During that last year is when I started releasing music. I spent the last two years there, kind of gigging after work every day that I could, just trying to build whatever local presence I could and release as much music as I could and build a catalog. And this is just me and a guitar with a few microphones. Just lo-fi. It’s really demo tapes. They’re live recordings really, just in the house.

Then I left that job so that I could gig more. I got a job working for Safelite, doing auto glass for about two months. Then I booked myself opening a few tours and I booked a little headline run for myself. I told my boss, “Man, I gotta do music. I thought I could just open my schedule a little more and that would make me happier. But it’s pretty obvious now that music is what I have to do.” In the next month or two, I met my agent at CAA, met my manager, and hit it off with David Macias at Thirty Tigers. All the dominoes started falling immediately. Within three months of quitting that last job, I was already booked to open two shows for Willie Nelson. So it all happened fast, and it’s like reassurance that I’d made the right choice.

I’m going to quote a lyric back to you, which is “Somewhere deep inside I knew/ And I know you knew it, too/ Couldn’t be more proud to see we saw each other through.” That’s got to be the best feeling to know it actually happened for you. You held onto the dream. How did you stay motivated when things weren’t exactly going fast for you?

I think, especially for those times, the struggle was the motivation. It came pretty naturally. That song specifically, “Dream Come True,” that is mine and my wife’s story. I spent those years working the jobs – and even on the railroad I brought my guitar with me to write songs in the hotel rooms. I played open mics after work. We traveled for work on that job. So, those days, all the way leading up to, I guess around ‘22, that was it.

It was always just like, “How do you even make a career in music?” You know, “I’ve never been to Nashville. I don’t know anybody in Nashville. I really don’t know anyone in the Birmingham music scene. I don’t even know where to start or what to do, other than use social media to try to get my stuff out there.” And then fast forward to Mercedes. I was gigging after work for a few years, like Thursday, Friday, Saturday, as many shows as I can play, and I’m releasing EPs that I’ve self-recorded. The dream was always to do music and just find a way to be able to support us with music, instead of these other jobs that aren’t what I’m supposed to do.

We were trying to have kids and start a family and we ended up losing the first pregnancy. We kept trying after that, we had a second pregnancy, and we lost that one. So there for a while, it just felt like music wasn’t going to happen. How do you get that to kick off? And we’ve lost two pregnancies, so who knows if we can even have kids? That was our shared dream. That is what the whole song is about. We have two daughters now and this is what I do. When my wife hears that song now, she cries.

Being married myself, I appreciate these songs about the depth of that relationship, just leaning on each other and trusting each other.

I just needed something in my catalog that would reflect those parts of my life, because I’ve written so much about other things. Just looking back through all the songs, I was like, I have a severe lack of love songs going on, you know? Why not write an entire album of it?

I also picked up on the Robert Earl Keen reference in “Feel Like Getting High.” What do you enjoy about the music that he’s made over the years?

It spans a lot of different moods and I want to be more that way. So far, a lot of my projects and albums and catalog have had a similar atmosphere around it all. What he’s talking about, and what he sings about and writes about, is a pretty broad spectrum. As a writer, I want to get more in that direction where I’m not gridlocking myself to a certain topic or a certain mood. I would say that’s inspiring from him.

Why did the album title, A Heavy Duty Heart, seem to fit?

That was the hardest part of this whole thing, just naming it. It had me stuck for a while, trying to figure out the name. I don’t know where that came from. It was just a thought and I kind of liked the way it rolled off the tongue. Looking through the songs, almost all of these songs say the word “heart,” and it’s talking about the inward, deeper, zoomed-in struggles and details of my life, being a touring musician and having children and a wife, and our journey to get there. So, it felt like it would take a pretty strong heart and will to keep going through all that and keep your eye on the prize. I thought that title reflected the overall idea of the album.

I really like “Turn Around” right there at the end of the record. What was going on in your life when you were when you wrote that song?

That was a similar thing to what I was talking about earlier, where it was kind of throwing yourself a pity party and losing perspective. “Why is this going on?” “Why are these tickets not selling more?” “Why is this artist doing more than I’m doing? Two years ago, we were at the same place.” It’s just a game of comparison on social media and that can really begin to affect you, just wondering if you’re stalling, or if you’re doing well or not.

But the truth is, that’s just your mind going to those places because you haven’t kept your own perspective on everything. Like, me five years ago wouldn’t believe anything that me right now would have to tell them about all the things I’ve done and accomplished. That’s the real perspective. And when you lose it, you get too far in your head, for no good reason. And then stopping and turning around, kind of taking stock of where you’re at, and what all you have, and measuring yourself again.

Photo Credit: Leah Dockery

Friends New and Old

Posted on by Shelby Williamson

Editor’s Note: Each issue of Good Country, our co-founder Ed Helms shares a handful of good country artists, albums, and songs direct from his own earphones in Ed’s Picks.

Suzanne Cox & Brandon Ratcliff
Suzanne Cox & Brandon Ratcliff

Suzanne Cox (of the GRAMMY-winning bluegrass band the Cox Family) and her son, country singer-songwriter Brandon Ratcliff, are taking the internet by storm with their lovely and tender familial harmonies. Their duets have racked up millions of views and likes on social media, leading to a new EP, Mother/Son Volume 1, and a recent appearance on the Grand Ole Opry. Those voices!

Rhiannon Giddens
Rhiannon Giddens

You may have seen, I’ve had the good fortune of getting to spend a lot of quality time making a film – and doing plenty of banjo pickin’! – with Rhiannon Giddens recently. Since shooting An Ode to Mary Jo together, I keep going back to Rhiannon’s catalog of recordings and cannot get enough. This duet with fiddler Justin Robinson is from her most recent release, 2025’s What Did the Blackbird Say to the Crow. Fantastic old-fashioned, down-home fiddle and banjo music drawn from North Carolina.

I'm With Her
I'm With Her

I’m with I’m With Her, too. One of our favorite trios in Americana and bluegrass released a brand new live album today, Sing Me Alive, packed with 20 tracks captured at performances across the country and in Canada. Many familiar favorites can be found alongside cover songs and tracks they’ve never released before. Here, they’re joined by Ye Vagabonds in Rocky Mount, Virginia, on “Rhododendron” in November of 2025.

Tenille Townes
Tenille Townes

Our Good Country and BGS Artist of the Month, Tenille Townes, released the first full-length album of her independent era last week. As she describes in our exclusive Artist of the Month interview, she took a much different approach to recording this music, doing most of the tracking herself, alone. The songs are deep, meaningful, and cathartic – and damn good. But it’s not an entirely solo album, as I’m With Her (how perfect) and Lori McKenna both feature on tracks. Hear McKenna join Townes on the title track, “the acrobat.”

Charlie Worsham
Charlie Worsham

Our old pal Charlie Worsham is back at it – though he truly never stops. A sideman, radio and podcast host, session player, songwriter, and artist, Charlie does it all. He’s got new music of his own out and the GC team can’t wait for more. As he usually does, he’s once again calling on his superlative cohort of friends in Music City. On his most recent single, “They Never Do,” it’s Lainey Wilson joining in. From some teases on social media, though, we’re expecting many more special guests on Charlie’s outings in the future!

Listen to this issue of Ed’s Picks in one YouTube playlist here.

Listen to the full Ed’s Picks archive playlist here.

Want more Good Country? Sign up to receive our monthly email newsletter – and much more music! – direct to your inbox.

Photo Credits: Suzanne Cox & Brandon Ratcliff by Chase Hentges; Rhiannon Giddens by Karen Cox; I’m With Her by Alysse Gafkjen; Tenille Townes by Madison Rensing; Charlie Worsham courtesy of the artist.

You Gotta Hear This: New Music From Don Williams, Victoria Bailey, and More

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

This week it’s absolutely packed in our weekly roundup of new roots music! You Gotta Hear This…

From the Blue Ridge Mountains of Western North Carolina, the Asheville Mountain Boys kick us off with a new performance video for “Don’t Take Me Back Again.” It’s a track from their debut self-titled album, which was just released in February. It’s straight-ahead bluegrass that will transport you right back to their beautiful home turf in Southern Appalachia. Also in bluegrass, from just down the ridge from NC in Boiling Springs, South Carolina, husband-and-wife duo Benson (Wayne and Kristin Scott Benson) have a new single out today, “Maybe It’s You.” Featuring their friend Heath Williams on the lead vocal, it’s a clean and crisp example of modern bluegrass with traditional bones.

You’ll also get to hear a lovely bluegrass-gospel-western rendition of a Randy Travis cut, “He’s My Rock, My Sword, My Shield” below, brought to us by Southern California singer-songwriter and roots artist Victoria Bailey. She effortlessly combines bluegrass, classic country, country & western, and gospel with her version of the familiar tune. The loping, cowgirl feel is just perfect. Plus, impeccable fiddler and multi-instrumentalist Andy Leftwich has a new album out today, Aced. To celebrate, we’re sharing “Crossville” from that collection, a tune from the catalog of Ricky Skaggs – Leftwich’s former boss, who’s a friend and a mentor – that has a transatlantic and somewhat Celtic feel. It features Leftwich on both fiddle and mandolin.

From further territory on the roots genre map, Paula Boggs Band calls on both Blind Boys of Alabama and Valerie June as special guests on their recording of “Ain’t Gonna Let Nobody Turn Me ‘Round.” Soulful string band folk is a perfect backdrop for the languid, marching track – one that remains all too timely and applicable in 2026. Watch a new lyric video for the song below and join the sing-along party, and the struggle for justice, too. Don’t miss Serafima and the Shakedowns’ paean to Seattle, the Queen of the Pacific Northwest. “Shivers” is a chill and vibing Americana track with lush guitars backing gentle ruminations on friendship, community, and place. Whether you have or haven’t felt the “shivers” in a while, this song will be there for you when you do again.

Keep scrolling, as there’s more gold to find. For instance, Gregory Alan Isakov and Sylvan Esso released a track together earlier this week, “Fade Into You.” It’s a lovely cover song of the cult favorite ’80s and ’90s alt-rock band Mazzy Star. For a while, Isakov wasn’t sure the track was finished – that is, until he called upon Amelia Meath of Sylvan Esso to complete the number with her vocals. Like Isakov, we love how it turned out. Finally, a legend of country music returns, posthumously, with a new album on May 29. Don Williams passed away in 2017, but his powerful legacy lives on. We spoke to his son, Tim Williams, about the latest single from Epilogue: The Cellar Tapes, a collection of found recordings made by Don himself dating back to the ’70s. The new single is an alternate version of a favorite track, “I’m The One,” that puts a magical focus on Williams’ vocals. You won’t want to miss it.

So much to love and enjoy is waiting for you below – You Gotta Hear This!

The Asheville Mountain Boys, “Don’t Take Me Back Again”

Artist: The Asheville Mountain Boys
Hometown: Asheville, North Carolina
Song: “Don’t Take Me Back Again”
Album: The Asheville Mountain Boys
Release Date: February 12, 2026 (album)

In Their Words: “‘Don’t Take Me Back Again’ is an original song written by our guitar player, Marshall Brown, and is featured on our new self-titled LP. Marshall brought the song to the group about a year ago and we had so much fun working it up into an early ’50s-style bluegrass song. Zeb and I wrote exchanging mandolin and banjo riffs for the song instead of normal solos; we felt that was an homage to how early Jimmy Martin songs would have more melody-based riffs than conventional solos. We shot the video at Asheville Guitar Pedals in West Asheville as sort of a tongue in cheek reference to our motto: ‘No Plugs No Pedals Only Bluegrass.’ We loved working with Rebecca Jones (video) and Carter Giegerich (audio) on this in-person, fully live take of the song. “ – John Duncan

Track Credits:
Marshall Brown – Lead vocal, guitar
Jacob Brewer – Tenor vocal, bass
John Duncan – Banjo, baritone vocal
Zeb Gambill – Mandolin

Video Credit: Videography by Rebecca Branson Jones, audio by Carter Giegerich. 

Victoria Bailey, “He’s My Rock, My Sword, My Shield”

Artist: Victoria Bailey
Hometown: Huntington Beach, California
Song: “He’s My Rock, My Sword, My Shield”
Release Date: April 24, 2026

In Their Words: “My cover of this Randy’s Travis gospel song, ‘He’s My Rock, My Sword, My Shield,’ truly sets the tone for where I am in music and with my faith. It’s been a few years since my album release (A Cowgirl Rides On) and I continue to grow a deep love for bluegrass and gospel. It only made sense to go in and record one of my all-time favorites by Randy Travis before I dive into my next record.

“This song was recorded live in studio with my bluegrass band at Station House Studio in Los Angeles, produced by my good friend Brian Whelan. It was a sweet reunion being back in that room and to honor such a beautiful, spiritual song. I often describe my sound as ‘a little bit gospel, a little bit bluegrass, and everything in between.’ This next single is a perfect recipe of all those things and I’m looking forward to more of it this year!” – Victoria Bailey

Track Credits:
Victoria Bailey – Vocals
Brian Whelan – Producer, lead guitar, BGVs
Ted Russell Kamp – Bass
Luke Adams – Drums
Philip Glenn – Fiddle
Leeann Skoda – BGVs

Benson, “Maybe It’s You”

Artist: Benson
Hometown: Boiling Springs, South Carolina
Song: “Maybe It’s You”
Release Date: April 17, 2026
Label: Mountain Home Music Company

In Their Words: “We love the tried-and-true themes of classic bluegrass songs. Cabins, farms, and mountains were relevant to the writers then. In fact, if you can find a new song that is reminiscent of those standards, it’s a real find. I think ‘Maybe It’s You’ is a nice representation of a modern bluegrass song, lyrically. Troubled relationships are timeless, but this is a contemporary take on that same theme.” – Kristin Scott Benson

“Heath Williams sang lead on ‘Maybe It’s You’ and we are so lucky to work with him. He has been a huge part of many Benson songs, like ‘Oh Me of Little Faith’ and ‘Lay ‘Em Down.’ He’s not from a bluegrass background, but is perfectly suited for it and has a really fresh, special take. In fact, Terry Herd, one of the co-writers, specifically mentioned him because Terry thought his approach would be ideal. After years of going to church with Heath and playing with him on occasion, it’s a joy to be recording with him now.” – Wayne Benson

Track Credits:
Heath Williams – Lead vocal
Wayne Benson – Mandolin
Kristin Scott Benson – Banjo
Cody Kilby – Acoustic
Kevin McKinnon – Bass
Zack Arnold – Harmony vocals

Paula Boggs Band, “Ain’t Gonna Let Nobody Turn Me ‘Round”

Artist: Paula Boggs Band
Hometown: Seattle, Washington
Song: “Ain’t Gonna Let Nobody Turn Me ‘Round” featuring Blind Boys of Alabama and Valerie June
Album: Sumatra
Release Date: March 27, 2026 (album)
Label: Boggs Media LLC

In Their Words: “Our cover of the civil rights anthem, ‘Ain’t Gonna Let Nobody Turn Me ‘Round,’ feels more relevant today than when we recorded it. To highlight its American roots heritage, we incorporated bluegrass instruments like banjo and fiddle. The featured artists, Blind Boys of Alabama and Valerie June, further enhance the song’s messages of hope and determination. The lyric video grounds the song in present times.” – Paula Boggs

Track Credits:
Paula Boggs – Lead vocals
Tor Dietrichson – Percussion
Jacob Evans – Drums, percussion
Darren Loucas – Acoustic guitar, Dobro, banjo, ukulele
Paul Matthew Moore – Acoustic piano, percussion
David Salonen – Upright bass, fiddle
Blind Boys of Alabama (Ricky McKinnie, Sterling Glass, J.W. Smith, Joey Williams) – Co-lead vocals
Valerie June – Co-lead vocals

Gregory Alan Isakov and Sylvan Esso, “Fade Into You”

Artist: Gregory Alan Isakov and Sylvan Esso
Hometown: Gregory Alan Isakov: Born in Johannesburg, South Africa; grew up in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Sylvan Esso: Durham, North Carolina
Song: “Fade Into You”
Release Date: April 16, 2026
Label: Dualtone

In Their Words: “I grew up listening to Mazzy Star and sort of sketched this song out one afternoon. I had read an article about Hope Sandoval (the singer of Mazzy Star) the week before and there was this paragraph about how she played a few shows at the Sydney Opera House in almost complete darkness. Some of the crowd was super disgruntled about it and walked out. I remember thinking, ‘Wow, what a hero.’ I sat on the recording I made for a long time, thinking it wasn’t quite finished, and reached out to Amelia of Sylvan Esso. She has one of my favorite voices of all time. Once I heard her on it, it felt ready. I really love how it came out.” – Gregory Alan Isakov

Andy Leftwich, “Crossville”

Artist: Andy Leftwich
Hometown: Carthage, Tennessee
Song: “Crossville”
Album: Aced
Release Date: April 17, 2026
Label: Mountain Home Music Company

In Their Words: “One of the greatest joys of playing music with Ricky Skaggs was getting a chance to jam on his original instrumentals! They all have great melodies and are structured in a way that gives you an opportunity to stretch out and push yourself. This song is certainly that. Ricky has always inspired me with his creativity and heart behind each note that he plays and I always looked forward to playing this one with him each night! It’s one of my favorites! I thought I’d pay homage to my friend and former boss by recording one of his wonderful compositions, ‘Crossville.'” – Andy Leftwich

Track Credits:
Andy Leftwich – Fiddle, mandolin
Byron House – Upright bass
Cody Kilby – Acoustic guitar
Matt Menefee – Banjo

Serafima and the Shakedowns, “Shivers”

Artist: Serafima and The Shakedowns
Hometown: Seattle, Washington
Song: “Shivers”
Album: Ride Easy
Release Date: April 14, 2026 (single); May 1, 2026 (album)
Label: BWGiBWGAN

In Their Words: “‘Shivers’ is an ode to Seattle, Queen of the Pacific Northwest – a cloud-soaked rumination that finds the song’s lonely voice wondering, is there anyone out there? My friends have left the city and I’ve heard I’m supposed to have a guardian angel – but where is she? Maybe she’s hiding behind the marine layer.

“This is a song about the city I grew up in, missing all your friends that have moved far away, feeling like they lied to you about stuff like having a guardian angel, and wondering if heaven is a real place – either up there or down here.” – Serafima Healy

Track Credits:
Serafima Healy – Vocals, guitar
Sam Burrows – Guitar
Joe McPhee – Bass
Jules Tennyson – Drums
Finn O’Hea – Trumpet
Aaron Khawaja – Piano
Jay Kardong – Pedal steel

Video Credits: Hand animations by Serafima Healy.

Don Williams, “I’m The One (Alternate Version)”

Artist: Don Williams
Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee
Song: “I’m The One (Alternate Version)”
Album: Epilogue: The Cellar Tapes
Release Date: April 17, 2026 (single); May 29, 2026 (album)
Label: Craft Recordings

In Their Words: “I remember this song very well from when I was 13-14 years old. I always loved the song. Obviously, Daddy did too, or there would not have been strings on it. Strings are always about the last thing before mixing (sometimes percussion). When I realized that it was one of the songs on the tapes in the cellar, I was excited. I did, though, want to take a crack at stripping it down a bit or making a little more room for Dad’s vocal, which was my intention and the approach I took. The original version is definitely cool and pretty complicated, actually, but I wanted a version that would be a platform from which maybe there’d be a little more focus on the vocals.” – Tim Williams, son of Don Williams

Photo Credit: Don Williams by Jim McGuire via the Grand Ole Opry Archives; Victoria Bailey by Dylan Gordon.

Tenille Townes:
In Her Own Words

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Editor’s Note: Earlier this month, we shared our exclusive Artist of the Month interview with Tenille Townes exploring the many factors and creative processes that brought about her excellent new album, The Acrobat.

That interview, with BGS contributor Alison Richter, included many more golden moments and special tidbits that ended up cut for length, so we’re excited to share portions of those edits here as a bonus follow-up to our feature conversation. Below, enjoy Townes’ insight, wisdom, and feelings about her songwriting methods, collaborating with Lori McKenna, trusting herself at the helm of her new album, and more.

And, continue exploring all of our Artist of the Month coverage of Tenille Townes – and our Essentials Playlist – right here, on Good Country and BGS.

Songwriting

I have a notes thing on my phone that I’m always picking at. I also have random voice notes in my phone from airplane windows. There’s something about the perspective of zooming out. I think about songs differently up there, so there’s plenty of voice memos of me singing into the window seat with the hum of the engine.

Songwriting is so interesting because it calls you to be present in the moment. When I’m more present, I notice songs around me anywhere. It’s the gift of paying attention. I push myself to keep working on that, striving to notice what’s happening around me and how I feel about it. That’s what inspires me to keep writing.

Working with Lori McKenna

I love Lori so much. Talk about somebody with lived experience, and also she has this way of completely disarming any sort of fear. Obviously she’s a legend. She’s a hero to me. She’s been that forever. When I first moved to Nashville, I saw her play a round at the Bluebird [Cafe] and I was like, “I want to write songs like that someday.” I dove into her whole catalog and learned so much from studying her work. There’s such vulnerability to her writing and there’s so much she isn’t afraid to say. She’s paved the way for so many writers. We’ve all learned from her.

I’ll never forget when we got to write for the first time. I was so nervous, but she made me feel at home and listened to and valued all the things. I had the best day. A lot of times people will say, “Be careful about meeting your heroes.” That could be the farthest thing from the truth about Lori. She’s over and beyond what you would expect. From that, we struck up a friendship and have gotten to write a ton of songs through the years.

She invited me to Boston and I got to spend a few days with her, writing in her music room. I loved every second of that trip. A lot of the songs on this record came from that time with the two of us together. She was always so encouraging about my work tapes. She was like, “You should really make a record of that someday.” So it’s full circle to me to have some of our songs together on this project.

It made sense to extend the invitation, in case she was up for singing on “the acrobat,” and she ever so graciously said yes. It was such a great experience getting to work on that with her. She starts singing as the fortune teller in the song. She enters around that line, which is such a timely entrance because she’s got this perspective of wisdom that comes from lived experience and from somebody who’s a complete master of the craft. I respect her so much, and I’m so glad to call her a friend.

The Work Tapes Were the Album

@tenilletownes anybody else feel this with me? This song is gonna be yours on Friday… thanks for pre-saving!! #newmusic #indiemusic #theacrobat #canadiancountrymusic #folkmusic ♬ original sound – Tenille Townes

I was maybe four or five songs in. Honestly, if I’d sat down at the beginning of it and gone, “I’m gonna produce a record,” I’m not sure I’d have ever started. I had so much fear and anxiety at that time – that plan never would have worked. But it’s like this record guided me along its way.

I got a few songs done and sent it to a producer friend I’ve worked with in the past. I was like, “This is something I’m excited about. Who should I get to mix this or would you want to maybe guide the rest?” He was like, “I don’t think you need anybody. You should see this through. This sounds wonderful. Just follow your gut and enjoy the ride.” That was so encouraging to hear in that pivotal moment. I kept going and I really enjoyed the process beyond that point.

I think I’m hardwired … in my family system and everything I was always the peacekeeper, and it’s in my nature to make sure everybody else is okay. It was really strengthening to not have to check on anybody else in this process and to trust my own compass again. I’m glad I gave myself permission to do that, but it was never the initial plan.

The Challenges of Self-Producing

Once I decided I was doing it, I had reached the part in my healing, my mental health journey, where I was starting to recognize that the imperfections of this project were actually where the magic was. I think the music guiding me [toward] that was a little bit of a spiritual letting go. That’s the practice.

One of the themes in this record is letting go. Even making it was a practice of that and going, “I could do that fifty more times and get it perfect, or I could accept that I think it sounds beautiful and human just like that,” and that’s what I did.

“she plays the piano”

This song is so special to me and it’s been a special one to me for years. I wrote it with Lori McKenna, Alex Stacey, and Amy Wadge over Zoom during the pandemic. I remember finishing it and going, “This song is so special. I don’t know when its moment is going to be,” because it wasn’t quite in the vibe of what I was releasing at that time. But I knew the song would tell me when it was time and I’m so glad the time is now.

The idea came from visiting my great-grandmother at her nursing home. She was there for close to 10 years and was on the Alzheimer’s and dementia ward. It was so tough, especially watching my grandmother. She went all the time, and watching her with her mom in that space was devastating. The fact that she didn’t recognize any of us or know where she was, that she was always time traveling, that was heartbreaking to have a front row seat to.

We went to visit and have lunch one day and there was this woman, this other patient, in the cafeteria. They had a keyboard, and at lunchtime she would sit and play this polka over and over. This sweet woman couldn’t tell us her name, she had no idea where she was, but she could play that polka like nobody’s business. She’d play the song and then glance around her shoulder and wait for us to clap. We’d cheer every time. It was like she played Carnegie Hall or something. We would applaud her and then she’d turn and face the piano and start the song over again.

I sat there, as a teenager, thinking how music can remember who we are even more than our mind can sometimes. That’s such a powerful thing. I’ll never forget witnessing that. I’ve wanted to write that song for a lot of years, so I’m glad it’s a part of this project. I think of that sweet woman and my great-grandmother every time I play it.

Want more? Dive into our Artist of the Month coverage of Tenille Townes here.

Photo Credit: Robert Chavers

Check Out Lucinda’s, a Bustlin’ NYC Honky Tonk

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

(Editor’s Note: Enjoy our tour of New York City honky-tonk, juke joint, and cocktail lounge Lucinda’s as a special postlogue to our Artist of the Month coverage of Lucinda Williams during March 2026.)

It’s the first springtime Sunday in Manhattan and after a bitter winter, the East Village is humming with human activity. Around the corner from the throng of Tompkins Square Park, where Girl Scouts hawk cookies and roller hockey players clatter their sticks and skates, tumbles of acoustic guitar spill from a storefront, attracting curious passers-by. Some folks pause and lean toward the open windows, and a few cross the threshold to meet wafts of fresh popcorn. Welcome to Lucinda’s.

The bar’s tin ceiling interior is catnip to music history aficionados and Americana-kitsch collectors alike, the walls hung with poster prints, vintage memorabilia, and velvet paintings (among them Kitty Wells, Robert Johnson, and Elvis Presley shaking hands with Jesus Christ). There’s a jukebox ready to sling beloved feels-good-to-feel-bad hits, and peanut figurines with Jimmy Carter grinning and holding court over the liquor. These accoutrements all play second fiddle to the spot’s main attraction: live music meant for casual socializing every day of the week.

This robust programming – along with some of the bar’s most prized decorative items – is the work of Kelley Swindall, a musician and New Yorker of 20 years who grew up in Stone Mountain, Georgia. She takes pride in a large round aluminum Coca-Cola sign, an item on “permanent loan” from her family and one of several wall-hung nods to Georgia’s most lucrative liquid export. She’s more proud of filling a void in New York City nightlife. “There’s a lot of Southern people in the city that went to SEC schools that want to have some Southern culture again, like college football, or listening to music that they love and don’t normally hear in New York,” Swindall says.

Though the city has a handful of country-themed, sometimes Western-leaning bars – Williamsburg’s hootin-hollerin Skinny Dennis, the self-explanatory Honky Tonkin’ in Queens, the West Village’s Tex-Mex-y Cowgirl – Swindall wanted to develop a place to celebrate the early country, blues, folk, and other vernacular music that shaped generations of American song. She yearned for the sort of places she knew growing up and got to know as a touring musician, rooms where casual live music fosters socializing instead of hampering it. “That’s what the juke joints and honky-tonks were back in the day – it was live music as the soundtrack of the evening, but you were hanging out, drinking, dancing, and socializing,” Swindall says.

Swindall found a business partner in Laura McCarthy, who has a storied history of her own at 169 Avenue A running prior venues Brownies and Coney Island Baby. The pair found a namesake and patron saint of sorts in Lucinda Williams, with whom they connected through mutual friends. Williams agreed to endorse the place, her multi-stranded artistry anchoring the team’s vision for honoring the deep musical roots of the American South. She christened the stage with a set as part of the bar’s opening-night festivities last July.

On a Saturday night, Lucinda’s is rollicking, packed front to back with revelers before some New Yorkers have even gone to dinner. There’s college basketball on one TV, and The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas on the other. I want to mill around and make conversation, but the bar is thick with boisterous, overlapping shouts converging with mid-1990s Tim McGraw and Shania Twain songs that radiate in my bones.

The mission of Lucinda’s is evidently working. With my elbows pinned to my sides, I chat with Emily from Texas and two girls who rolled up for one of several birthday gatherings in progress. After his friend paws at my unattended leftover garlic knots, Gavin, an Irish ex-pat and country music fan, tells me it’s his first time at Lucinda’s after hearing about it on TikTok. “We were in the neighborhood, and we wanted to come in. We already had plans somewhere else, and we made it our business to come back here,” he says, enthralled with the room’s unique decor. I don’t get a chance to ask his thoughts on the Dolly Parton or Johnny Cash bathrooms before he peels off with drinks in each hand.

Spirits are high, but by Lucinda’s standards, the fun has barely started: a few musicians are shouldering their way through to the corner stage. Nightly music programming is a staple at Lucinda’s, which Swindall accomplishes with standing residencies and open mics alongside other ticketed events. There’s a loose structure week to week; weekends are for the big sing-along bands, Sunday evenings are for classic country, and bluegrass and some old-time are on Tuesdays. “I was an artist first, and I still am, so I wanted to focus on the kind of music that I’m into,” Swindall says, adding that Thursday night is for two-stepping.

The Sunday open mics are a binding force to Lucinda’s operating concepts. Sign-ups start at 1 p.m. every Sunday, running through the afternoon until another outfit takes the stage for the evening. There are some gentle guidelines (no covers, no backing tracks), aimed toward bringing a pleasant and equitable atmosphere to the gatherings. Swindall prioritizes the artists’ experiences at these weekly forays, remembering open mics as essential to her relationship-building and development as a young musician.

“It’s more important to have people able to come in and play their songs, everyone listen, rather than have a thriving bar culture that day,” she says. Drawing further on her artist’s perspective, Swindall fosters the open mic knowing the challenges of getting a foothold in bigger booking circuits. “A lot of places, they don’t want to book you unless you can bring a crowd or you can show them live footage. It’s really great to give people an avenue to get comfortable on stage and get feedback for their songs,” Swindall says.

Moreover, the shindigs help Swindall expand her pool for her month-to-month bookings, strengthening the network of relationships that are essential to the arts-forward community that McCarthy and Swindall hope to nourish.

Almost a full year in, Swindall is eyeing a steady growth pattern. She worked her way up to music every night of the week and now sometimes has two shows a night; she’s starting to entertain ideas for a small festival. “From a bar point of view, there’s so much to do,” she says.

The space isn’t zoned for a kitchen, but Swindall wants to figure out some kind of food element; in the meantime, patrons can bring in takeout or ask a bartender nicely for a Moon Pie, a bag of Zapp’s chips, or a bowl of popcorn. Swindall will stay busy as she aims to make Lucinda’s even more of a place for the “all” in “y’all.”

Stop in, sit down, shake loose. Connect with a song, or maybe a stranger.

All photos by BGS Staff.

Explore our Artist of the Month coverage of Lucinda Williams here.

Hudson Westbrook Is Ready for What’s Next

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

It was not so long ago that Hudson Westbrook was in college at Texas Tech. But today, he’s one of the most promising and hard-to-pin-down young acts in country, helping pull Texan artistic independence into the mainstream.

Joining trailblazing stars like Cody Johnson and Parker McCollum, Westbrook celebrated his first Number One in February after finding a home for “House Again” on the Mediabase country radio chart. Also certified Platinum by the RIAA, it’s more evidence of a shift away from cookie-cutter tailgate anthems: an emotionally complex ballad rooted in the experience of a kid watching the fallout of their parents’ divorce.

Westbrook paired raw lyrical nerve with a soulful, tender touch, helping the newcomer tally one billion streams in 18 months, with an exponential growing profile – and then he switched things up.

His recently released Exclusive EP features five tracks awash in rootsy R&B, proving the 21-year-old won’t be held to a narrow interpretation of Red Dirt musicality. But he’s not satisfied there, either. His new radio single “Painted You Pretty” (from the debut album Texas Forever) matches country simplicity with an earnest romantic hook, and this summer he’ll tour arenas and stadiums with Bailey Zimmerman, Morgan Wallen, and one of his heroes, George Strait.

Speaking with Good Country at an East Nashville coffeeshop – just one day after meeting a pig on the podcast of his other hero, Tracy Lawrence – the fresh-faced star looks ahead to new music and shares his impression on what’s driving the Texas-and-traditional country resurgence. Barely two years into a rocket ride of a professional career, he’s still learning the ropes, and sometimes, the lingo. But Hudson Westbrook has all the artistic confidence he’ll ever need.

We last talked in 2024 and at the time you were just out of college. The only thing you had released was “Take It Slow,” and then “House Again” came out. How have things changed?

Yeah, I was working at that feed store and it wasn’t that long ago. I’d written “House Again” and then I just remember I was so confused as to what was going on. Now I look up and I’m like, “I was blowing up the whole time.” I didn’t realize how big it was getting. It’s hard to feel it. I’d be like “Hey y’all, is 5,000 tickets good here?” And they’re like, “Do you realize what you just did?” And I’m always like “… No.” [Laughs]

I’m getting bigger and bigger and bigger and bigger. I want to keep getting bigger, but I want to keep it small. So [lately] it’s just really been focusing on doing that. Not losing yourself. Focusing on grounding myself right now, making sure I’m calling my family and whatever it might be. And then also it’s celebrating it, too.

You just had the Number One [with “House Again”]. What’d you do to celebrate?

We were in Hawaii, so we drank – I don’t know – 15 margaritas? [Laughs] The coolest part about that song is it was my second co-write and I was like, “Yo, I don’t know what I’m doing.” [Co-writers Dan Alley and Neil Medley] said, “Well, what’s your hook?” I said, “What’s a hook?” And they started laughing. I’m like, “Bro, I don’t know what the hell that is, but I had this idea.” …

So it just blew up. And I was so scared, just because it’s saying goodbye to a lot of stuff, honestly. It all happened so fast. If anyone had to have someone explain to them how to deal with a fast moment, I’d say if their songs are working, slow down.

Really? What do you mean?

Because that was a song that was for me. I was like, “I’m writing these songs I love and they’re ready by the time that we need them, so throw them out there.” And, “I’m already in Nashville, so let’s film the music video.” We never really planned on dropping anything, which is kind of crazy. I wish I would’ve slowed down a little bit and then realized what was happening so I could soak it in. It’s still happening. It’s still great. But I would just tell people, maybe slow down if it’s happening that fast. I feel like a lot of times I didn’t know who Hudson Westbrook was when I put songs out. And now I’ve sat down and we recorded four songs on Monday and I’m like, “This is the vibe. This is what we’re doing.” It’s so refreshing.

You’re going to be sharing a stadium stage with George Strait [at Jones AT&T Stadium in Lubbock, Texas on April 25]. That’s a homecoming show and I know he means a lot to you, so how does that make you feel?

That’s where I went to college. I sat on the 50-yard line since I was 7 years old, watched every single football game at [Texas] Tech, watched every single concert, listened to George Strait since I was in the womb. It was “Check Yes or No.” It was “Troubadour.” It was “The Fireman.” All that was in my house from an early age. So I don’t know, it’s just crazy. It’s a little nerve-wracking, like who knows what’s going to happen? I’ve also never played a stadium yet. All my friends are going to be there. It’s just going to be weird.

I would say there are some similarities between you and George Strait and maybe that’s just because of your background. You’ve been traveling around, have you noticed a difference in country music depending on where you are?

I go to Florida and [the fans are] screaming the most Texas country song I have. And Texas country just means that production. It’s a view of writing and it’s a perspective. I use real drums. The biggest country music artists in the world don’t use real drums right now. That changes everything. And so now we got to be like, “How can we be different than everything else?” I think that’s by being natural, in a sense.

There’s definitely a moment happening for Texas country, bluegrass, and traditional roots, with Zach Top and some more of your peers. Is it just perfect timing for you?

I think we’re pushing it into that direction because I think we’re trying to get back what we wanted to hear. I know if I talk to Zach, he’d be like, “Yeah, dude, I want acoustic and drums and a shaker and I want it all to be in there.” I feel like we make country music and it sounds like the show. You could literally put a band on stage and play it with no auto tune, no tracks. And that’s what makes it unique for us, because it’s like no one’s ever going to play the same thing twice.

What’s coming next, though? The Exclusive EP is out now and it’s definitely different than Texas Forever.

To be honest, I was like, “I want to try a bigger sound, something more mainstream.” And so I chased it – but I did not give up on the songwriting. My songwriting was very intentional and it was very love story-based [on Exclusive].

I love them, but I’m going back to my Texas country sound. We just recorded a song called “Hey Dallas,” which is really cool. Then we did a song called “Backwards,” which is really cool. And then I don’t know, I’m leaning in to John Mayer production a bit – but no crazy guitar solo. [Laughs] I was like, I ain’t doing none of that.

I can say, definitely some more soul and a bit of R&B in there, for sure. It’s electric guitars driving the whole thing – and I love electrics and baritones. I want that to drive all my stuff from now on. My voice just sounds better with it to me.

So it’s going to be like a whole new fresh album?

Totally new. I have like 120 songs and a lot of them are pretty good. I’m not saying they’re all for me, but I finally did what I should have done and that was sit back, find my key, find the way I like to write, really be intentional about what I’m writing. I wrote a song called “Nowhere Bound” that is probably one of my favorite songs. It’s like, I never stop in any city and don’t ever slow down.

When are you all going to be sharing new stuff?

Next month. I’m dropping “Slow Hand” by Conway Twitty [on Gavin Adcock’s Country Never Dies project, March 13]. His voice is incredible. I ain’t going to lie. It was not easy to cover that shit. [Laughs] He’s got just some weird things and then you’re like holding this note out for 10 minutes. [Laughs]

To be honest, dude, even if none of that stuff [I wrote] is usable, my goal this year is to do something that no one’s ever done and create a freaking path so far into my own lane that’s nothing like anybody else that … it’s undeniable, because I’m going to do what I want.

I feel like right now I’m growing and I’m learning and I’m doing whatever, but now it’s like, “How do I take it to the next level?” I think the way you take it to the next level is just getting deeper into yourself and telling [the fans] more.

Photo Credit: Peyton Dollar

The Band of Heathens Leave Nothing on the Table

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Don’t be fooled by their name, as the Band of Heathens actually give us something to believe in.

Coinciding with their 20th anniversary as a band, their new project Country Sides is equally feel-good and philosophical. The band’s co-founders and songwriters Gordy Quist and Ed Jurdi called in to Good Country from their homes in Austin and Asheville, respectively, to talk through their inspirations for the album, their writing (and rewriting) process, and how banjo fits into their house of music.

Just a few weeks after our visit, Country Sides and the single “Take the Cake” topped the Americana Music Association’s album and singles airplay charts simultaneously, a new feat for the well-established group.

“We have been really fortunate as an independent band,” Quist says. “We’ve never been on a label or been a part of the machine, and we just have a lot of gratitude for the 20 years we’ve had together as a band.

“This record is like a message of gratitude for all that we do have. And as much as we love making records, the live show is certainly my favorite part of this career. That’s what’s special about this band. When we get on stage, I feel lucky to be a part of this thing that really is fun live, so I would encourage people to check out a live show if you haven’t done it.”

As I was listening to the album, I was picking up a lot of messages of encouragement. It feels like a positive record to me. Is that a fair statement, do you think?

Ed Jurdi: Yeah, I think so. It’s like the musical retrospective of the band, in a way, sort of our history as an entity. Maybe in the background, with the realization that we’re making it 20 years at this point, there’s a little bit of a celebratory nature. I don’t know about Gordy, but in my writing process, I tend to almost have the opposite reaction to everything going on around me, outside in the world. If everything’s really negative, and the messaging is really negative, and there’s a lack of hope – maybe it’s a form of escapism for me, but I tend to lean into that [opposite reaction] a little bit more in my messaging.

And insofar as sharing music with people, it’s almost like the internal pep talk that I’m having with myself turns itself into the art and into the lyrics and something to share as a message with other people. We’ve never really been ones for beating people over the head with the message, but things are pretty wild and wooly – and not in a good way out there, in a lot of ways. So, I think some messages of community and togetherness and rallying around a common good – we could certainly use more of that.

Did you have a certain sound in mind as you made this record?

Gordy Quist: I think we talked about trying to make a country soul record. We were listening to some of the early Dobie Gray records and thought, “OK, what if we took a mix of soul music and country music melodies and textured it…” We put more pedal steel on this record than we probably ever have on any record. And that was intentional. From the beginning we knew we wanted to do that. I guess it was intentional to try to make a country soul record. Whether we did that or not, I’m not sure. But that’s how we arrived at whatever we did.

I like the spirit of fellowship in the song “High on Our Own Supply” and there’s a lyric in there about hearing the banjo playing soft and slow, like a stereo. This being the Bluegrass Situation (and Good Country), I’m curious, do you often reach for the banjo?

EJ: I do. I’m a terrible banjo player. You know, my buddy Graham Sharp in Steep Canyon Rangers is an amazing banjo player. So if I need a banjo on a record, I’d probably call him.

I think writing “High on Our Own Supply,” it was almost like we’re building a house of music. You know, if you were to go into any room in that house, there might be this different scene going on. You open the door and there’s someone in there playing the banjo, and it’s so good, it sounds like it’s just coming out of the stereo.

The song “Pleasing People” reminded me of soul music from the ‘70s and I wondered about that soul influence. How does that show up in your music?

GQ: I guess there’s two elements. I think the rhythm section is the foundation of soul music and the groove. That was something on this record we really tried to dig into. The band right now – Clint Simmons on the drums and Nick Jay on bass – are a deep and heavy rhythm section, so that lends itself to a style of American roots music that leans into soul music. But also, simplicity. Lyrics that sound conversational and simple but have some depth to them. It’s hard to do that well. That’s part of what makes soul music great – that it’s simple but it’s good.

It takes skill to make it look easy or sound simple. What’s your editing process and your rewriting process like for you?

EJ: It never really ends. Even after we record these songs, I definitely change lyrics to songs as we play them live. The cool thing about these songs, especially making a recording, it’s a snapshot in time. But songs, I think of all the artistic mediums, they kind of move with you through time in a really special way. What a song means to you at 16 can mean something completely different to you at 40. You’ve piled up life experiences and you view the world in a little bit of a different way. So that’s always fun, but editing is constant.

I would say Gordy and I both are doing a lot of lyrical editing and we’re doing a lot of musical editing, too. When we get together and make records, it looks something like Tuesday morning, 10 o’clock: “Hey, Gordy, what do you got?” You know, Gordy grabs an acoustic guitar, sits in the middle of the room… And I’ve [already] heard these songs we’ve worked on, the two of us, but that’s the first time that Trevor Nealon (our keyboard player) and Nick and Clint have heard the songs.

So it’s like, “Hey, OK, first impressions? Go!” and then we start filling the canvas up, taking stuff away, adding stuff, changing colors, all these different things, until we’re at a point where we feel like we’ve edited something down to a nice, presentable format. So, it’s a work in progress, always. To your point, the more you can tolerate the editing, the better things become. It certainly is the most challenging part of the job, but it can also be the most rewarding.

“Take the Cake” has a great vibe. I’m sort of a workaholic, so it’s a nice message to hear, to hit pause and go do something fun. What were you hoping to convey in that song?

GQ: I think I was playing with the idea of giving versus taking, in life. I’ve been working on that song and editing that song for a couple of years actually. I’ve had it for a while. You know, there’s a weird juxtaposition of giving and taking. If you are always taking, in theory you should have lots of things because you’re receiving them. But in reality, you usually end up empty, whether it be friendships or whatever.

The opposite is true also. If you’re always giving and generosity leads, in theory the fear side of you thinks you’re going to run out of stuff. But the opposite actually is true. And that’s kind of what I was playing with, just the idea of letting go of that consumerism or just the [mentality of] “I need to keep what’s mine.” And being cool with letting go of that and letting generosity be the leading force.

As you mentioned earlier, this album is like a 20th anniversary celebration of the band. Are you enjoying this period of your life? You still have a lot of years ahead, but you’ve got 20 years of experience behind you too.

EJ: Yeah, I think it’s a good vantage point. I’ve heard Gordy describe it as standing at almost the peak of a hill. We’re all dads, so we can look down and look at our kids and remember being their age. Looking the other way on the hill, we see our parents, and we remember our grandparents being that age. So, it’s kind of a trip to be in this middle age of life. We still have the energy of young people. I think the fire is still there. There’s no lack of commitment or of energy or passion to what we’re doing. But we’ve assimilated a little bit more wisdom, and we have a few more tricks up our sleeve, a few more shortcuts. It’s fun exploring those things and trying to share them with people.

GQ: Talking about this phase of life that we’re in, I have this feeling like, when we were young, making our first records, we would put everything into it and the goal always was, “I hope this is good enough that we get to keep making records and make another record.” At the end of every record we’ve made I felt like, “Man, that’s the best thing we’ve ever done and I don’t know how we’re ever going to top that.” Whether it is truly the best thing we’ve ever done or not each time, that’s not for us to decide, but it feels that way to us.

EJ: We’ve always left nothing on the table when we’ve made a record. Now we’re just a little bit more conscious of our surroundings and what our intentions are. Again, I don’t think there’s ever been a lack of effort, but now there’s maybe a realization like, “Hey, every time we get on stage, every time we sing, every time we make a record, it might be the last time we do, so let’s make sure we’re doing it with everything we got. Let’s leave it all out there, because at the end of the day, that’s all you got.” You can feel good about that in the rearview mirror.

Photos courtesy of the artist.

Brit Taylor’s Roots Are Planted in the Land Of The Forgotten

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

After writing with Dan Auerbach for her 2021 debut, Real Me, and with Sturgill Simpson on 2023’s Kentucky Blue, Brit Taylor instead looked in-house to bring her latest effort, Land Of The Forgotten, to life.

Cue up her husband, Adam Chaffins. Taylor not only co-wrote seven of the album’s 11 songs with Chaffins, but asked him to produce the record, as well – his second straight after doing the same for Kentucky Bluegrassed (2024) as well. Together the two homed in on tunes rich in working class and Appalachian themes that push back and occasionally lean into narratives about the region and its people.

From the hillbilly manifestations of “Broke No More” to throwing all your ex’s possessions out on the curb (“All For Sale”), to the resilience of mountain folk (“Land Of The Forgotten”) and infidelity with the bottle (“Warning You Whiskey”), Taylor shows that Appalachia is much more than just a footnote or only worth mentioning when things go sideways.

“It puts a lighthearted spin on some of the tougher things about life,” says Taylor. “Not to make light of difficult times, but to remind us two things can exist at one time. And, [remind us] not to forget to take a look at the bright side too, and to not take it all so seriously.

“There’s a lot of awful things happening in the world that we need to be aware of and need to do what we can to change, but dwelling on it and ignoring all the good things around us in the process doesn’t help anyone.”

On the eve of the album’s March 6 release, Taylor spoke with BGS about motherhood, outsider perceptions of Appalachia, black sheep, and more.

Leading up to Land Of The Forgotten’s release you mentioned achieving a sound with this project that you’ve been trying to attain since first moving to Nashville in 2007. What was it you captured and how were you able to do it?

Brit Taylor: Just that bluegrass influence on country, particularly the late ‘80s sound of The Judds, Ricky Skaggs, and Patty Loveless. When I go back and listen to those things I noticed they’re all very acoustic driven. At some point all of that became really unpopular – fiddle, steel, and mandolin all went out of style for a while. We had a lot of fiddle on the last record, but [we’re] incorporating those instruments more than ever before on this album, which gave it a very “back to my roots” feel.

Everything, down to how this record is mixed, turned out just the way I wanted it to. A lot of it’s because Adam grew up [just over an hour away] in Louisa, [Kentucky] – so we listened to the same radio stations and the same types of Appalachian country music. Us understanding each other so well musically is what made this all click.

I know that most of the album wasn’t written with bluegrass in mind, but I find it interesting that you say this album is more bluegrass-y than Kentucky Bluegrassed. Are there any key differences between the two?

Even those bluegrassed versions weren’t “actual” bluegrass songs, because they still had drums on them. We made that record to showcase bluegrass versions of those country songs. We weren’t really shooting for a country record with that one, but the goal with Land Of The Forgotten has very much been to make a country record, but one that’s heavily influenced by bluegrass instrumentation similar to anything from Patty Loveless to Lee Ann Womack when she sings “Does My Ring Burn Your Finger.” On those songs you could strip the drums out and they would feel right at home as bluegrass songs even though they all come from country-leaning records.

You just touched on Patty Loveless (Emory Gordy) and Lee Ann Womack (Frank Liddell), both of whom recorded frequently with their husbands as producers as well. Tell me about that connection, both with them and your husband Adam, and how each informed the project?

It started out with me just making a giant playlist of songs I love that were all over the map with no goal in mind. But as I started listening to it I began noticing a lot of similarities between the songs on it, whether they were from Willie Nelson, Ricky Skaggs, Dwight [Yoakam], Patty [Loveless], or Lee Ann Womack. Then I noticed that a lot of them were produced by Emory Gordy or Frank Liddell, whether it was Lee Ann Womack or the Pistol Annies.

From there, I went to Adam and told him, “These are the things that I love – I need you to be my Frank and Emory.” [Laughs] They’re two of my favorites, and just so happened to have worked with their wives, so it made so much sense for me to do the same. Adam knows me better than anybody else and hears me sing in a billion different places. He just knows me, just like [Emory and Frank] knew their wives and knew what they wanted and how to get it as well as pushing and encouraging them at the same time.

Another family tie to this record is that it’s released only a few months after the birth of your first child, Beulah. What was it like bringing this project to market while also going through that experience?

We cut the record last January, and at that point I was not pregnant yet. We’d been talking about wanting a kid for a really long time, and this record came out exactly the way I wanted it to. When we found out about the pregnancy I was like, “I need to be as fearless about the personal decisions in my life as I am about music, and stop letting the stigmas about what the industry thinks of women with kids dictate the way that I live my life.” Or else I’m going to run out of time to get the things done that I want. So we just decided to take a leap of faith and it’s all worked out, as it often does when you trust the universe, that it has your back, and that everything’s going to be okay.

It was so much fun starting out the year cutting that record and then going on tour with the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band and Adam was with me. It was while in St. Augustine, Florida, doing that when we found out we were pregnant. I started back with them on another leg of the tour in July and showed up with a big belly, and it was so fun! I did that entire tour with no shoes. Jeff Hanna was always cracking up because I was just barefoot and pregnant on tour. [Laughs] It’s been really empowering to know that you can have it all, you just have to be brave and stop listening to the limitations that other people would like to put on you all the time.

Of all your albums so far, Land Of The Forgotten has some of my favorite wordplay. A prime example is “Warning You Whiskey,” a drinking song disguised as a ballad about an unfaithful lover. How did the idea for that one come about?

I love when songs have a twist or they’re not quite what you think they are. I also love a good story, so when my husband and I sat down with Adam Wright and he started telling us about this idea for a song called “Warning You Whiskey,” that sounds like you’re talking about a woman at first. I loved it from the beginning. We worked out the music and got that first verse and chorus written so fast that it wrote itself.

When we got to the second verse, I remember sitting there looking at both of them saying, “Man, I really want to kick this whiskey bottle’s butt!” [Laughs] Then my husband blurted out, “I’ll grip my hand around your long, skinny neck” and I just lost it. I jumped out of my chair because I was laughing so hard. Then Adam Wright popped out a line, I did the next, and within five minutes we had the entire thing written.

It reminded me so much of something Loretta Lynn would write and makes me think of women in my family that I’ve observed growing up. My mamaw really fought hard in the beginning of her relationship with my papaw, with him drinking, and she stuck by his side. Sometimes all he needed was a butt whoopin’. She’d just stand by his side and helped him through everything.

In the past you also haven’t hesitated to write a catchy song about getting through the daily grind, like “Rich Little Girls.” This album has two: “Lately I’ve Been Thinkin’” and “Around and Around.” Is there anything beyond that ties the ones on this record together?

“Around and Around” is just about life in general. It’s funny because everybody expected us to tie a really pretty bow on it in the bridge, but we just didn’t, because sometimes that’s how life is – we just keep spinning and spinning. Sometimes we figure out how to get out of the rat race and sometimes we don’t. The song is an observation of this girl who is finally becoming self-aware enough of her circumstances to stand outside of them and decide if she wants to change them or not.

As for “Lately I’ve Been Thinkin’,” it’s definitely inspired by the music industry. We were actually writing a different song that’s going to be on Adam’s record, but in the middle of writing [we] began talking about one of the award shows taking place that week, how much we hated it and all of the butt-kissing that goes on at them. Then [my husband] said, “Lately I’ve been thinking, I don’t like much stuff” and Adam Wright started cracking up. It was so funny because it all just started from a conversation. By the end of it, we all were like, “Well, it’s really not that bad. We get to sit here and write songs. We actually have it pretty good.”

It seems like many of the songs on Land Of The Forgotten originated from spontaneous writing moments. Is that a regular occurrence for you?

Those are my favorite songs. When the three of us write, we never sit down and think we’re gonna write a song for a specific person today. We just write what’s in the room, what’s moving us, and what we’re feeling. That usually ends up being something out of conversation and is oftentimes funny, because the three of us have the same sense of humor and [same] kind of outlook on life. I know a lot of people can get a bad taste in their mouth about co-writing and how like “white-coat” it can be, but when you find your tribe and you find your people, it’s awesome. It’s so much fun.

Earlier you discussed how distinctly Appalachian this record is. In my opinion, one of the best embodiments of that is the title track, “Land Of The Forgotten.” Was there a specific moment or place that inspired it?

I don’t remember if I wrote the song around when the floods happened, but I remember writing the hook down when all the floods happened back in my native Knott County in 2022. I feel like that’s the only time that we’re remembered, when tragedy strikes, and then we’re just kind of forgotten again until somebody can make fun of us. A lot of people have negative perceptions of what they think Eastern Kentucky or what hillbilly is, but it’s nothing like what people think. It’s about resilience, and strength, and honor, and family, and beauty, and folklore. Appalachia is so beautiful and so misunderstood.

I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to write a song as good as Darrell Scott’s “You’ll Never Leave Harlan Alive.” I don’t know if I did that with this song by any means, but that’s always the goal when trying to write about home. I think that’s probably why I’ve never had a song about Appalachia. I’ve had a song about Kentucky in general, but it was more of a love story. I’ve tried to write it a million times, but I finally did one that I’m proud of, and that’s “Land Of The Forgotten.” When we put all these songs together, it quickly became a lot of stories about blue-collar life, surviving, and just how hard it is right now in this economy. Through that, “Land Of The Forgotten” became the theme of the record without even trying.

One of the album’s more lighthearted moments comes on “Crazy Leaf,” which sees you ruminating on that one black sheep we all have in our family. How did that one come to be?

When we sat down to write that – my husband, Jeremy Bussey and I – we started talking about all the crazy people we had in our families. It was Bussey who had the idea for the title, “Crazy Leaf,” which is a combination of these characters from our families into one song. But we didn’t want to pick on anybody too hard or put too much truth in there that you hurt somebody’s feelings.

My favorite thing was when I played it for my mom, and there’s that baptism line – “He got baptized for the fifth time, because the first four didn’t work” – where my mom said, “Your mammy used to say that if the water was too cold in the creek, the baptism wouldn’t take.” [Laughs] But in all honesty, it’s probably me – I’m the crazy leaf in my family.

From “Crazy Leaf” to motherhood and bringing this album to life with your husband as producer, Land Of The Forgotten has a whole lot to do with family. That won’t change anytime soon either with you and Adam going on a co-headlining tour together this spring. What are you most excited for about that?

I could not be more excited to be able to travel with Adam and for both of us to be able to do our own sets. We both work together a lot, but we’re still two individual artists as well, which I think confuses people sometimes. People will ask, “What’s your band name?” I’ll have to say, “No, I’m Brit Taylor and this is Adam Chaffins.” Maybe we’ll do a band thing eventually.

I’m also nervous because we’ll have the baby on the road for the first time, but that’ll also be really fun too. I can’t wait to show her pictures one day. I’ll be taking her on tour with me this summer out west with Nitty Gritty Dirt Band, too. She was in my belly through all those tours last year, so it’s gonna be so fun to have her on the road this time. My goal is to one day be touring bigger venues on a bus with my entire family there so we can travel the world together – that’s the dream.

What has the process of bringing Land Of The Forgotten to life taught you about yourself?

It’s a continuation of what everything keeps teaching me, which is that I just need to trust my gut and stop second-guessing things all the time. Adam has been a huge help with that. I feel like I can be hard on myself and always assume that somebody else knows better than me because they’ve got more experience. I don’t know if the creative process works that way. I think it only works when you’re true to yourself, and that’s something that isn’t always easy for me as a people pleaser and somebody that doubts herself a lot. So just learning to stand in my own truth and stand in my power and be confident in myself.

Photo Credit: Sammy Hearn

MORGXN: Home Is Where Your Heart Hangs Its Hat

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

“I don’t know when I became an activist,” MORGXN admits. “I’m just a human being who sings from the heart, but my heart is very broken by the world that we are currently living in.”

The singer-songwriter lived in Los Angeles for 10 years before moving back home to Nashville in 2022. “The minute I came back to Nashville, I ran into a guy once. He was like, ‘I only see you at the Capitol singing,’” he recalls. “When I moved back, they were trying to ban drag queens. They were trying to ban women’s access to health care.”

Most recently, he took to the Tennessee State Capitol to protest bills against same-sex marriage. “This is how rights get tested: one state, one bill, one ‘exception,’ and suddenly the floor moves under all of us,” he wrote on Instagram.

“I don’t even think about it as activism. I think about it as humanity. We are more alike as human beings than the media, the news, and politicians would want you to believe,” he explains. “It breaks my heart. If you have listened to this album, there are songs about love and the human experience. The album is for anybody bold enough to live as who they are in the middle of the heartland.

“That is what I hope people get from this album. I hope they feel less alone in their activism… I wouldn’t even use the word activism. I hope they feel less alone in their humanity, period.”

On March 6, MORGXN released a deluxe edition of his album, HEARTLAND, and while it pulls from country music, he wouldn’t exactly label it as such. “I don’t care what genre you tell me it is. I care that I’m speaking something that is true to me, and that’s how I make music,” he says. “I don’t make music outside in.

“I make music inside out. I find what’s inside, and I try to bring it outside,” he continues. “And the heartland is a place that is normally not reserved for people like me and you. And yet, living in the heartland, I see that everyone belongs in the heartland. The heartland is a space for everybody, and I want to reclaim the heartland for everybody.”

Good Country hopped on a Zoom call with MORGXN a week before the album’s release and chatted about collaborations with Tenille Townes and Maggie Rose, the meaning of community, the political divide in country, and the hardest lessons he’s learned since coming out as gay at 19 years old.

What are some of your favorite lyrics on the album?

MORGXN: “GOD CODED” is maybe the most important song I’ve ever written, whether or not most people hear the song – it’s not a radio song. But it is probably the most important song I’ve ever ushered into being. I have no problem with god or religion. I have a huge problem when people use god and religion as a weapon of their hate.

“WILLOW” I wrote for my friend’s daughter who has cerebral palsy, so that she knows that she is a bright light. Already that song has inspired other people, which really means that she has inspired other people. It’s hard for me to choose… “MIGRATION” is about losing my dog. I don’t have a favorite lyric – it’s like choosing a child. [Laughs]

Okay, here’s my funniest favorite line, “EVERGREENS.” The first line: “Tell me your sign/ And I’ll tell you mine/ And I’ll tell you if we’ll be okay.” I think that’s funny, because if I’m dating somebody, I will be like, “What is your sign?” And I’m going to decide right away if we’re even going to be compatible, which is maybe absolutely chaotic, but I love it.

With the deluxe edition of HEARTLAND you have several collaborators, including Tenille Townes, Ruby Amanfu, and Maggie Rose. How did you choose who you wanted, and what did they bring to the table?

Collaboration is like water to me. You know, I have many liquids here on my table. I am a gay man, so I have tons of liquid everywhere around – iced coffee is always a yes. Collaboration is also like breathing to me. When I think about making music, “the bible” to me is Willie Nelson and “On the Road Again.” The life I love is making music with my friends, and I can’t wait to get on the road again. That is how I think about music.

When I moved to Nashville, there were voices that I saw popping up that were saying really important things, like [Tenille Townes’] “Jersey on the Wall.” They were saying messages that really resonated with me inside of a space that is still not reserved for people like me.

I came here in 2022, which was 11 years after this manager told me I would never make it in music as an openly gay person. In Nashville, there was a thing bubbling up, but it was like you were reserved for this sideshow experience. You can be gay, but only during June, only when there’s a tent for you to stand under. That’s not how I believe in love or life or humanity. I reached out to several people wanting to create. Truth be told, I have people in my DMs who are massive artists, who love what I’m doing, but who can’t align with who I am because it will hurt their fan base. That’s insane. That’s 2026 for you.

But artists like Tenille Townes, Maggie Rose, Ruby Amanfu, Katie Pruitt – who’s obviously a queer beacon – and Langhorne Slim, they were people who were brave enough to collaborate outside of what is the norm for them. I’m really honored that they’re helping me create this version of the heartland where everyone gets to live.

With Tenille, “HEAVEN KNOWS” was the first song we ever wrote together. It was actually the day we met. The song has this sort of inner child: Why do we even keep trying in a world that feels so hard? Why do you love when your heart has been broken so many times? Why do you keep making music when it feels like the music industry is as crazy as ever? And why do you keep being a good person in a world that is hell-bent on trying to make you feel like you are an abomination? I try because I care. I love so deeply, you know.

Having grown up in Nashville, what did community mean to you then, before you came out at 19?

The one thing I’ll say about being queer in America – maybe anywhere in the world – is you’re forced to create community, and sometimes family, when that is not a given for you. I was very lucky that my family was… more confused and scared than they were not accepting. But my husband’s journey with his community – he grew up evangelical and his community kicked him out. He was going to be a pastor, going to seminary, and once he came out, he was kicked out of the church. I didn’t have that experience … but family to me widened the moment I came out. The idea that family was not just the people you were born into, but it is the people and friends and lovers who you collect along the way that were missing for me as a kid. Growing up here, I had a hard time fitting in, because everything I did stood out.

I played the Bluebird [Cafe] last night with Molly Tuttle, Maggie Rose, Liz Longley, and Ketch [Secor] from Old Crow Medicine Show. I’m sitting there singing “MY REVIVAL” – and I’ll cry thinking about this, but it’s like I’m sitting there singing [that song]. My husband is over here and the whole room is singing along with me. I have painted nails, singing my song at the Bluebird with legends. I’m the co-chair of the diversity committee for the Recording Academy in the Nashville chapter. I don’t know if I’ve “made it,” because I don’t think making it is even like the goal here. I want a career and a life, not a moment in time. That’s “making it” to me. For the closeted gay boy who was scared to ever reveal who he truly is, that’s my revival. There’s retribution. There’s deep healing, and there’s tons of gratitude, as well.

The divide in country music right now between people who are willing to sacrifice a fan base and those who aren’t is always widening. It’s cool to see who has come forward to make their voices heard.

Country music is three chords and the truth. That’s still the bible, but it has lost its way. There is a real ricochet happening where people are afraid to be truthful, because truth can sear and truth can be very quiet but very powerful. Nashville is at a breaking point. It’s a small town. We are growing by leaps and bounds. There’s a real deciding line between: do we make this a city for everybody or do we make this a city for the select few? That’s the same for country music, folk, Americana, and gospel.

“HEARTLAND,” the song, definitely pulls on gospel, folk, Americana, and pop, for sure, but it also pulls on country because it’s a story. I thought I’d see my name in lights. I thought that my life would be this flashy thing. It’s not. I fell in love with a man, and we have a farm, and we’re building a life together. That’s love to me. It’s a story. It’s my story. It’s real. So, it’s country; it’s folk; it’s Americana; it’s gospel. Now, will any of those genres accept me? I have no idea.

But the people on my album have accepted me for who I am and love me for who I am. And that, I think, is what the heartland is all about. You know, love thy neighbor. What happened to that?

You turn 39 this year, which happens to be 20 years since you came out. Was there any significance in releasing HEARTLAND (Deluxe Version) this year?

It’s funny. Titles of an album are like mystery buckets. I actually have a title for my next album and I’m so excited about it. Prince once said that he’s like two albums ahead of whatever’s commercially released. And I love that for him. I’m one album ahead of what is commercially released. Album titles visit me like a fever dream. Even HEARTLAND – the song, I gotta call out Josh Dorr, the co-writer on that song, who had a number one with Blake Shelton this year with “Texas.” He’s a legitimate country songwriter. Not even legitimate country songwriters would take a session with somebody like me and it takes guts to do that.

I haven’t thought about how it’s 20 years since I came out, but it makes a lot of sense. I have a song called “home.” When people were like, “Where is home?” I would be like, “Well, anywhere but Nashville, Tennessee, because that place would never accept a person like me.” Now, to be making a life here, building a farm, hosting Pride on our farm, there is something beautiful in that. It may have taken 20 years, but I’m home. It’s beautiful. I hadn’t really thought about time like that.

When we wrote “HEARTLAND,” I wrote it on the piano that I grew up on. There’s always ghosts in the bones of old instruments, but it’s safe where my heart lands. It’s the heartland, but it’s also where my heart gets to land safely. That’s the kind of love and belonging I wish for everybody. I’m not somebody who believes that you have to be in a relationship to be happy, or that you have to be married to be happy. That’s bullshit. That’s heteronormative, capitalist nonsense. You can find belonging amongst community, friends, and lovers. Does your heart have a place to hang its hat? That’s home.

What have been the hardest lessons you’ve learned over two decades?

The thing that comes up in my head is: it’s not over ‘til the fat lady sings. I’ve been a fat lady so… [Laughs] It will fall apart, and that’s okay. The true story is what happens when you pick yourself back up and keep going.

I’m far less interested in talking to somebody who’s never moved across the country once. I can’t really relate to you. If you’ve never sold all your belongings and moved somewhere at least twice, we might not have a lot of similar things to relate to. It doesn’t have to be grand moves. My husband has lived in a bunch of places in Nashville, has not left Nashville, but he’s lived a lot of life. You have to have lost everything once, probably twice, and hopefully that’s it. But it’s really about how you pick yourself back up at the bottom, and keep trying again.

Whether you think it’s good or not, it won’t last, and that’s okay. There’s beauty and grace in that. I have a friend, Kristen Griffith[-VanderYacht], who’s a [floral designer] – I think he’s now in Detroit – and he’s gone through a lot. He was on the Drew Barrymore Show, and the guest host was asking, “How do you keep flowers alive for longer?” Kristen grabbed his hand and he was like, “Here’s the thing, lean in close, I want you to hear this: they’re not meant to last. They’re meant to be beautiful for the moment that they’re there, and you’re meant to appreciate them in all their glory, and then you’re meant to let it go.”

That is really hard. That is maybe [informing] some of the themes about my next album, actually. It’s loving and letting go. Life is not linear. It’s not meant to be. Cherish all of the beauty, because nothing lasts forever. And there’s a ton of freedom in that sentence.

Photo Credit: Gabriel Starner