Undefinable by a single era, genre, or instrument, Jerry Douglas’ otherworldly picking prowess on Dobro and lap steel guitar knows no bounds. Whether it’s running through Flatt & Scruggs songs with the Earls of Leicester, kicking up covers like The Beatles’ “While My Guitar Gently Weeps,” or conjuring up jazz-like improv jams, the sixteen-time GRAMMY winning musician has a way of drawing the listener in with his tasteful tunes.
That trend continues on The Set, his first studio album since 2017 – although he did stay busy producing records for Molly Tuttle, Steep Canyon Rangers, John Hiatt, Cris Jacobs, and others during the time in between. Released on September 20, the record captures the sound of Douglas’ live set with his current band – Daniel Kimbro (bass), Christian Sedelmyer (violin), and multi-instrumentalist Mike Seal – with a mix of new and original compositions, reworkings of older songs from his catalog, a couple of intriguing covers, and even a concerto.
BGS caught up with Douglas ahead of his tour dates in support of the new record – and his induction into the Bluegrass Music Hall of Fame this week – to discuss the motivation behind The Set, the similarities between Molly Tuttle and Alison Krauss, and much more.
This is your first album in over seven years. What was your motivation for returning to the studio after such a large gap?
Jerry Douglas: I’ve been doing records for everyone else those past seven years. [Laughs] We’d go out and play a show and people would come up afterward and ask where they could find this song or that song. It got me thinking, since the songs I play live are scattered across many different records — some of which are out of print — that it’d be a good idea to get them all into one place, one album. It’s not a compilation record by any means, it’s just how I love to hear these songs now.
Speaking of how you love to hear these songs now, you’ve recorded many of them in the past. This includes “From Ankara To Izmir,” which you first recorded on lap steel before opting for the Dobro this time. What led to that shift?
When you first write a song you don’t know it, because you haven’t lived with it yet. You need to play it about 100 times and really flesh it out to see what all’s in there. When I originally recorded “From Ankara To Izmir” in 1987 for the MCA Master Series we had a much bigger, bolder band around it. However, the more I got to playing it out live the better the Dobro felt on it. It allows me to be more dynamic with the song, which I also cut with drums in 1993 before switching things up and leaving them out this time.
We actually haven’t used drums since the record I made with John Hiatt in 2021. He didn’t want them, so we used the rest of my band… it felt great having all that space the drums usually filled back, so we just continued as a four-piece after that. It’s gone on to inform a lot of the music on this record, not just with that one song.
I love the evolution that songs can take over time, whether it’s something as simple as changing out one instrument like you’ve done a couple times here or going from a full band to something that’s solo acoustic. Different arrangements breathe completely different life into a song, and your record is a great example of that.
Even Miles Davis recorded a lot of his songs two or three times with different bands. He wanted to hear them with the band he was with at that moment, which all included different people, personalities, characteristics, and playing styles. Music is meant to evolve over time as influences and circumstances change. Songs are traveling through their life collecting little pieces to add to themselves just like the rest of us do.
That room to experiment is only expanded with your band, who you’ve been with now for eight years. How did the chemistry you have with them help to drive the sonic exploration behind The Set?
Like you said, we’ve been together for a long time now. We’ve been everywhere together and have become good at picking up nonverbal cues from one another. A lot of times I’ll just give Daniel a look and he knows what to do. That trust allows us the freedom to experiment and keep things fresh for ourselves, which in turn keeps it fresh for the audience as well, whom we don’t ever want to leave behind.
That same attention to detail can be felt in the album artwork as well, which I understand comes from a connection you made across the pond while there for the Transatlantic Sessions?
Yes. William Matthews is a famous western watercolor artist who was in Scotland with me when we started rehearsing for the Transatlantic Sessions right after COVID. We typically tour the country at the end of January and into February for 10 days playing the entire show and William was following us around painting. One day I walked into his hotel room and his paintings were all the way around the wall. One of them was of Doune Castle – seen in both Monty Python & The Holy Grail and Game Of Thrones – that, unbeknownst to us at the time, ended up becoming The Set’s cover art.
Earlier we touched on all the producing work you’ve been up to lately. One of those has been Molly Tuttle, who you’ve worked with on her past two GRAMMY-winning albums. Given your close ties to another trailblazing woman of bluegrass, Alison Krauss, do you notice any similarities between the two and the approach they have to their craft?
They’re both amazing singers. I learned a long time ago that when Alison tells me she can do better, she does, and Molly’s the same. Both have a way of exceeding my expectations on a take when I thought they couldn’t do better than the one just before it, but every time the new one turns out head and shoulders above the one that I had been satisfied with. It’s taught me to always trust the artist no matter who it is I’m working with.
In that same sense, I think about Earls of Leicester as Flatt & Scruggs – what if they’d said “wait a minute” and gone back in [to the studio] to change one little thing? When you’re recording, everything happens so fast that you can come back to it and go in a completely different direction. That’s what I love so much about my new record, even some of the mistakes that I made on it aren’t really mistakes, they’re just different directions.
What has music taught you about yourself?
I’m an introvert who can speak in front of thousands of people and have a good time at a party, but when I’m alone I’m really alone, but in a positive way. It’s like having two lives, but I’m not acting in either one of them. What a privilege it is to be true to yourself and have a full life at the same time. I get to go out and play music, then come home and fix the faucet.
Lead Image: Madison Thorn; Alternate Image: Scott Simontacchi.
In 1990, when banjo player Alison Brown released her debut album, Simple Pleasures, she had no idea where her career could or would lead. GRAMMY nominations, IBMA Awards, touring and performing with Alison Krauss, Michelle Shocked, the Indigo Girls, Steve Martin, and many more, founding a record label that would become a keystone in roots music – none of these impressive accomplishments were on her horizons, literal or hypothetical. Brown just wanted to play the banjo.
She had recently left her job in investment banking and wanted to give her musical career a legitimate go of it. Tasking herself with intentionally writing an album’s worth of original tunes, over the years from 1988 to the project’s release on Vanguard Records in ‘90, Brown pushed herself sonically, aesthetically, and compositionally. The result was demonstrably spectacular and effortlessly cutting-edge.
Simple Pleasures, which was produced by David “Dawg” Grisman and included Alison Krauss, Mike Marshall, Joe Craven, and more among its cast of collaborators, would help launch Brown’s now decades-long career as a bluegrass and roots music multi-hyphenate and business leader. Simple Pleasures broke the ground, fertilized it deeply, and helped cultivate one of the most innovative and forward-looking careers ever accomplished by a five-string picker.
Now, some 34 years after its original release, that debut album has been reissued – on vinyl and digital, with a handful of digital-exclusive bonus tracks recovered from a cassette tape of demos. The project is a delightful time capsule and a perfect representation of the vast and varied musical ground Brown has covered over the intervening years. She may not have known it then – she readily admits, as a picker in her twenties, she was just taking this “banjo thing” day by day – but Simple Pleasures would lay the groundwork for all of her many successes in the music industry and in bluegrass.
For a special edition of First & Latest, we spoke to Alison Brown by phone about her first release and her latest – which just so happen to be the same album, the original and the new reissue. It’s essential listening for bluegrass, banjo, and roots music fans.
Simple Pleasures was originally released in 1990, 34 years ago. I wanted to start by asking you about your frame of mind now versus then, about what’s changed in the interim. What’s changed regarding how you view yourself as a creator and as a banjo player? Looking back, in retrospect, do you recognize the person you were then? What do you remember about your frame of mind when you first put the album out?
Alison Brown: It was this time in my life during which I was writing this music and then trying to get a record deal; I had just left my investment banking job and had taken this bizarre leap of faith, which I didn’t necessarily get a lot of support for. My parents weren’t saying, “Hey, I think you should quit your investment banking job to play banjo.” [Laughs] It really was a leap of faith.
I just couldn’t stop thinking about the banjo. So, I gave myself the challenge of seeing if I could write an album’s worth of music that would hold up and just try to make a record. And then, in the course of working on that, I wrote these tunes and joined Alison Krauss & Union Station. By the time we recorded the tunes, I’d been in her band for a year. I was really at the beginning of what has become my career path since then, but when I was doing it, I didn’t really know how it would be received or if it would get any props or even if it would be any good. All the validation that came on the heels of releasing this, and then everything since then, has made me a much more confident musician than I was when I wrote the music and recorded the record.
Before this album, were you already writing tunes? Was that something that you always did? Or was this an intentional practice shift for you? Was making an album of your own tunes something you had always been working towards or was it part of that purposeful transition from investment banking to banjo?
That is a really good question. I had never written much music up until that point, but I’d always wanted to. Stuart Duncan and I did a record called Pre-sequel. That was like a teen record, but we had a couple original tunes, stuff like “Possum Gravy on Grandma’s Beard” and “The Great Lasagna Rebellion.” It was like teen stuff.
Anyways, I really had wanted to challenge myself to see if I could write some “real music” – that isn’t really quite the right word, but some more substantial tunes and some tunes that really took the instrument maybe to a new place, which took my voice to a new place. That was a lot of this exercise and those 12 tunes. I didn’t know if I could write them or even if they would be any good, but that was like the beginning of this kind of process of self discovery.
When you look at the credits list – Mike Marshall and David Grisman and Alison Krauss and more – you can see some of the fingerprints of you and your community, but it was a kind of a longer process of you writing and getting to the point of recording, right?
I’m trying to remember… yeah, probably from the time I started writing the tunes was maybe middle of 1988 and then we recorded them beginning in 1990. So yeah, there was definitely some time in there–
Was there some extrapolating in your head of, “What are these songs going to sound like? Who is going to play them?” What do you remember about deciding on how you were going to make the tunes and who was going to make them with you? Because I have a feeling that was just as important a part of the process as having the material to record.
Once the door opened for me to work with David Grisman, to produce the record and play on it, then I was pretty much like, “What do you think, David?” But I knew I wanted to have Alison on the record and I knew I wanted to have Mike, ‘cause I love his music no matter what he’s playing. I’m the head of the “Mike Marshall Plays Guitar Fan Club.” [Laughs] I love his guitar playing. And Mike was in the Bay Area, so that made perfect sense.
But then, in terms of bringing in the flute or percussion, I hadn’t really thought about those things. When I listen to this record now, it’s surprising really how much of a footprint the record created for what we’re doing now. ‘Cause we’ve got a rhythm section and flute in the band. In some ways, it feels like after all this time we’ve come full circle, at least back to the seed that record planted, sonically, for the music.
That’s so interesting, to be able to look back and trace that throughline, when at that point it may have felt like a one-off to have those instruments and those styles represented in the music. And now it’s present through lots of your work.
Yeah, it is really interesting. There’s obviously things that weren’t included [on Simple Pleasures]. We’ve had piano in the band pretty much since the beginning and we didn’t have piano on that record, obviously. But I don’t know, somehow that doesn’t seem as much of a template thing, the idea of percussion elements and certainly the flute. David really brought that – and the idea of incorporating cello. I’m not sure I was really thinking about those things. My thinking was probably more in the bluegrass-rooted box.
One of the things that’s definitely changed from the original Simple Pleasures to the reissue over those 30-some years is these bonus tracks that you’ve added – such a time capsule. I wanted to ask you about their… I want to say provenance, but I don’t mean to be that formal. Like, how did you hold onto the demos over time, did you always have them in your back pocket?
You know, as we were working on re-master I kept thinking I knew I had a cassette of the demos. I just dug around and I found it! That’s where the actual takes came from, but that between-take talking, to me, is my favorite part of the whole thing. Just hearing Mike and David and Richard Greene, who produced those demos, talking to each other – I just think that’s the coolest thing. That came off the 2-inch tapes that we had. But the 2-inch tapes, we didn’t have the final mixes of the demos. So, it just worked out that we dumped the cassette tapes into this computer and tried to sweeten it a little bit and that’s what we used.
Looking back, this was a big transition point for you with a GRAMMY nomination, winning IBMA Banjo Player of the Year as the first woman to win an instrumental award. Of course this would end up a seminal album and was a really important kickstart for your incredible career. But at that point, back in 1990, were you worried about it? What was your frame of mind as far as expectations for what this album could do and where it could go?
I’m sure that I had no expectations. [Laughs] It was just something that I really wanted to do myself. I wanted to see, could I write a bunch of music and would it stick together? And, can I get some great people to play on it? I was just happy that all those things came together and I got it on a label.
It was just so cool to be on Vanguard Records. The Welk Music Group had bought that catalog and they had just started signing artists. I was one of the first artists they signed to the Vanguard imprint. All that was enough, but then to get a GRAMMY nomination was completely a surprise. I didn’t expect that at all, or the IBMA recognition. That validation was huge, obviously, and it would be for anybody, but for me it was just so huge. I actually took my parents with me to Radio City Music hall for the GRAMMYs and that went a long way toward them accepting my career 180. [Laughs]
It seems like this was definitely proof of concept for, “I can do this banjo thing. I can make banjo records. I can do this as a career.”
And in retrospect, I completely agree. In the moment, none of those things [were certain]. That’s what they say, “Hindsight’s 20/20.” And that’s so true; when you’re in the moment, you just don’t know how it’s going to turn out. Then it turned out great! I feel so lucky every day that I get to play music or create music or help somebody else create music, all that is just such a gift. Because it was not a foregone conclusion, I could easily have gone back to investment banking or something else with my tail between my legs. I’m just so grateful that isn’t the case.
At this point in your career, people think of you as a multi-hyphenate, as somebody who runs a label, is so active in the industry, and picks a really mean banjo. But this project predated Compass Records by several years. Were you already planning that sort of multi-prong, multi-hyphenate approach then? Or do you think it would be a surprise to 1990 Simple Pleasures Alison that you are the multi-hyphenate you are now?
Yeah no, I did not know it was [in my future], I think I was really just taking it a step at a time. At that particular point in time, my goal was just to write tunes and play in Alison [Krauss’] band. Then, when I left her band, I was really at this juncture again. My parents kept saying, “We really think you’d enjoy going to law school!” I was on the edge of applying to Vanderbilt Law School when I got a call from Michelle Shocked looking for a band leader for her world tour in 1992.
So no, I definitely didn’t have the multi-hyphenate, as you put it, plot hatched at all yet. That’s really something that came during that time that I spent with Michelle and then Garry West, who was playing bass in the band [with her as well]. We connected on a personal level, on a business level, and we started talking about “the good life.” Like, how do you make a life out of music? That’s when we started envisioning the different spokes of the wheel, and one of them was a record label and one of them was playing banjo and touring. That 1990s Alison was really just taking in a day at a time.
There’s this quality that musicians talk about a lot, almost to trope-ish levels, of not liking listening to themselves, not liking going back and hearing their own musical ideas or their own creativity from the past. It can be cringey! When you hear your young adult voice on the banjo now, what’s your reaction? Do you bristle at it? Do you feel inspired by it or do you have a moment where you’re like, “I can’t believe that I played that or I did that”? You’ve been inhabiting these tunes to remix and re-master them, not just rubber stamping a reissue. What does that feel like, to be going back and forth between who you are now and who you were then?
I really thought it was going to be like a lot of cringey stuff, like listening to those tracks and thinking, “Oh god, why did I play that?” Instead, I had a completely different feeling, because I felt like I could hear and really remember both the joy of figuring out that I could do this thing and the uncertainty of, “I don’t know if it’s any good or if it’s going to connect with anybody at all.” I can hear both of those things, but at the end of the day, what I felt most was just wishing I could reach back in time and give myself a pat on the back [and say,] “It’s going to work out okay and you’re on the right path.”
Because I think that’s the thing, we’re all looking for our true path. Sometimes it’s really hard to see, and for me, it was definitely hard to see. I really thought that I would be like a respectable business person and instead – well, I hope I’m a respectable business person, but it’s certainly not what I expected to be! [Laughs] I really thought, banker, lawyer, doctor, that kind of thing.
Your portfolio as a banjo player, label head, and producer is so diverse. And I wondered if you feel that’s directly correlated to being a woman who plays the banjo, or if you think there’s something else that’s driven that or informed that? Because I firmly believe marginalized folks in roots music – really anyone who’s not a straight white man – we often have to have very diverse career paths just to make a living, to make ends meet.
One thing I do notice is that big opportunities that opened up for me early on, they were all created for me by other women. That’s really not lost on me – whether it was Alison Krauss or Michelle Shocked. It wasn’t a male band leaders inviting me in. I think that’s really significant and that’s one of the things that I think is interesting about the times we’re in now, the fact that there’s much more diversity – even though it’s not as much as we would like to see. But there are women peppered throughout the ecosystem of the bluegrass community. We’re really in a position to empower and bring up the next generation, where we weren’t so much before. That makes it a really exciting time. I know that’s something that I love to look for opportunities to do.
If I’m producing a record, I want to bring those other voices into the room and let’s raise the next generation. ‘Cause when you come out of investment banking, you can see how adept the guys are at bringing on the next generation of guys, but women in corporate situations just historically haven’t [had the same access]. There are many reasons, it’s not their shortcoming. I think it’s just the circumstances, but now it doesn’t have to be that way. I find that particularly exciting.
34 years later, these folks who played on Simple Pleasures are still part of your community and are collaborators of yours. Back then, were you thinking, “All right, these are my ride or dies! We’re going to go the distance together.” Or was it like, “I can’t believe I get to be in a room with these folks and I hope we can do it again”? How does it feel now to look back and have decades-long relationships with these folks that you made the album with and to have that community be such a present part of the music that you continue to make and the records that you put out?
It’s amazing to look back and to think about the fact that I’ve known Mike Marshall since, gosh, I think I was a teenager the first time I met Mike? To have 50-year-long relationships with some of these people, it’s an amazing thing and it’s such a gift. I think one of the best things about our community is that people can have careers that extend over decades and you can have friendships with people that extend over half a century or more. I’ve known Stuart Duncan since he was 10, so I’ve known him for half a century. It’s crazy and wonderful too. And it’s such an amazing aspect of our community.
I don’t know if it’s the same in other kinds of music, but I think the intergenerational aspect of bluegrass music and roots music just creates for some amazing lifelong friendships. I think it’s not uncommon for people to start when they’re 10 years old – or, Stuart started playing this music when he was six or seven. When I met him when he was 10, he was already a hotshot fiddle player. The fact that you can get into this music as such a youngster, keep playing it, and there’s room for you even when every hair on your head is gray, it’s just a great thing. I think in popular music the window is more narrow.
But in this music, people want to see you play your music whether you’re six or whatever age. How old was Bobby Osborne? He was 92! The record that I did with Bobby, Original, we was 86/87-years-old when we recorded that record. You wouldn’t see an 87-year-old pop artist probably making a record.
Counting John Prine, Linda Ronstadt, and Wendell Berry among her fans, Laurie Lewis is arguably one of the most diversely influential figures in American roots music culture. She’s a songwriter, fiddler, frontwoman, performer, producer, teacher, and mentor. She’s been nominated for multiple Grammy awards and graced the stage at the Grand Ole Opry. The International Bluegrass Music Association has twice named Lewis Female Vocalist of the Year, and the association’s former executive director, Dan Hays, once called her “one of the preeminent bluegrass and Americana artists of our time and one of the top five female artists of the last 30 years.”
Lewis’s latest release — her 24th full-length record — pairs the artist’s musical mastery with her willingness and courage to face the full spectrum of life’s experiences. From personal grief to environmental despair, Lewis does not shield her eyes from difficult truths. In many ways, the album pays homage to its namesake, trees. When asked why, Lewis notes their tenacity. When something is tenacious, it grips firmly, with determination and persistence. Even in the face of immense challenge and uncertainty, trees abide in their purpose and work — and so does Laurie Lewis.
TREES is a long-play collection of songs that tenderly, earnestly, and sometimes joyfully explore what it means to exist on a vulnerable planet through times of loss and love. Supported by a band of masterful collaborators — Haselden Ciaccio (bass, vocals), Brandon Godman (fiddle, vocals), Patrick Sauber (banjo, vocals), George Guthrie (banjo, vocals, guitar), Tom Rozum (vocals, cover art), Andrew Marlin (mandolin), Sam Reider (accordion), and Nina Gerber (guitar) — Lewis dives into the deep end of sorrow and change with tenderness, authenticity, and Americana storytelling prowess.
In the album’s liner notes, Lewis shares that TREES is the first project she’s made in nearly 30 years without the mandolin accompaniment of her partner Tom Rozum, who recently developed Parkinson’s disease. “This collection represents a difficult transition in my musical life,” Lewis shares. “Think of it as ‘Music Minus One.’”
From bright bluegrass tracks like “Just a Little Ways Down the Road” to the somber invocations of “Enough” and “The Banks Are Covered in Blue,” this album is intricate and complex, much like a healthy forest. The album brings us “Quaking Aspen,” showcasing Lewis’s characteristic lyrical fiddle style, and title track “Trees,” an a cappella bluegrass-gospel ballad that gently yet hauntingly denounces the violence of industrial civilization.
Always looking to the natural world for strength and guidance, TREES is about love — for life, for land, and for people. But love isn’t a purely hopeful or romantic thing; it encompasses both loss and pain, and Lewis gracefully and vulnerably reckons with both on this album.
You just returned from a string of shows playing songs from the new album. Where did you go?
Laurie Lewis: My string of shows was actually mostly a river trip. So I did play every night, but I was mostly spending the days in the canyons… On the Yampa River, which starts in Colorado and goes into Utah and flows into the Green River. It’s a really, really beautiful canyon.
I love that. When you were playing shows, how did it feel to share these new songs with the world?
I’ve been doing a lot of songs from the new album, yeah, and I’m really enjoying that. But also, in any of our sets with my band, we pull out the old ones, too.
Speaking of the older stuff, I listened to your first solo record, Restless Rambling Heart, directly after listening to your newest record from start to finish. The first thing I noticed was that the tempo has downshifted quite a bit from that first release. Does TREES feel more introspective to you than other records you’ve made?
Oh yeah, it definitely does — especially compared to Restless Rambling Heart.
You’ve collaborated with the great poet, writer, and activist Wendell Berry — he asked you to set some of his poems to music. What was that experience like?
It was really fantastic. I’m such a fan of Wendell Berry’s writing. It came about because I was putting out a songbook and the publisher said, “Well, you need to get some blurbs for the back.” I happened to be at a writing workshop and one of the writers there said, “Hey, do you know Wendell Berry?” And I said no, and he said, “Well, he’s a big fan of yours.” [He had been] at a writing conference with Wendell and Wendell asked if he knew me and, you know, small world sort of thing.
So I thought, Well, how do I get in touch with him? Maybe he could write me a blurb, who knows? But [Wendell] famously doesn’t do e-mail or anything like that, so I got his mailing address and wrote him a long-hand letter on one of those yellow legal pads, you know, and I sent it off to him. And lo and behold, he wrote back. He said, “Well, I really don’t know anything about music, and my wife says I can’t carry a tune in a bucket, so hadn’t I better say no to writing a blurb?” And I thought, Well… that’s a question, so it deserves to be answered. So I wrote back and said, “Of course you should say yes, because really, the only prerequisite for saying you like something is that you actually like it. It doesn’t matter that you don’t have a background in music. It’s a personal response.”
And he said, “Well yeah, okay. I’ve been telling people I’m not writing blurbs anymore because too many people ask me, but didn’t I write something in that first letter that you could take out [and use]?” And there was this really nice thing…
So we just ended up having this back-and-forth conversation. He sent me some books. I sent him some CDs. I finally got a chance to meet him, but eventually I just felt like this is a person who is so conscientious, he’s going to respond to whatever I write. And he’s so busy, and he’s got so much stuff to do, I don’t want to bother him anymore. So I kind of dropped the correspondence. I wish I hadn’t, but it felt like the right thing to do. I just didn’t want to be that pestering voice that he felt he had to write back to.
Did he get back in touch with you at some point? Is that how his request came to light?
In the midst of all our back and forth, he sent me a poem in the mail and asked if I wouldn’t mind terribly trying to put it to music. So I did. That was “Burley Coulter’s Song for Kate Helen Branch.” It was quite a puzzle, because it’s not a standard rhyme scheme or anything. I had to make it loop around like a little crooked fiddle tune to make it really work.
Trees aren’t just the theme of this album — they’re growing all over your creative imprint. Your label is called Spruce and Maple Music, for example. What is it about trees specifically that inspires you?
I love the tenacity of trees — the way they just wait ‘til you get out of the way and then come back. … There are too many humans on the earth. We take up way too much space and way too many resources and we’re crowding everybody else out. And by “everybody else” I mean all the animals and plants and everything that also shares our earth. I just feel that, you know, trees are these beneficent beings that just wait and take their time and come back whenever they’re given a chance. They’re responsible for the oxygen we breathe and for taking in the CO2 we release. They’re sort of purifying everything. So it makes me feel very hopeful… If we just get out of the way a little bit, trees can come in and help set the planet right again.
Speaking of trees, the title track on this album is written from such a unique perspective. You literally embody the voice of the trees. How did this idea come about? Had you written from the perspective of the natural world before?
Well actually, “The Maple’s Lament” … I think that was the first time I tried to embody a tree. But I’ve done a few songs like that since. “American Chestnuts,” from my Skippin’ and Flyin’ album is from the voice of the American chestnut trees, which were the main tree along the Appalachian Mountains before the Chinese chestnut blight.
You know, I have, and I thought, Well, this is my song! [Laughs] But I wasn’t inspired by the book.
I personally take comfort in the knowledge that the world will go on spinning without us, despite how powerful we imagine ourselves to be. What sustains you as a sensitive person who feels the weight of what’s happening in and to the world? What carries you through?
Well, that’s that hope – [in] the other beings on the earth, their ability to repair the damage we’re doing. But I don’t hold out a lot of hope for human beings to rein in our excesses. I just don’t. I unfortunately do not see that happening in a timely enough manner to prevent, for instance, desertification of much of the earth’s crust. I’ve never said this stuff in an interview before, but yeah– I do not hold out a lot of hope.
I really appreciate you saying that. I feel like we’re often pressured to feel hopeful, but sometimes it feels more important to just be present with our grief about what’s happening to the world. Where did your deep relationship with and love for the natural world begin?
Oh boy, well, lots and lots of places. From ages three to eight, I lived in Ann Arbor, Michigan, in this new subdivision a block from the country. I loved to ramble in the woods and just see the farms and stuff like that. When my family [moved to] Berkeley, California, it was really a shock for me, and I have to say, Tilden Park probably saved my life. It’s a big regional park that’s up over at the top of the Berkeley Hills. It’s a huge park — you could get lost in it for days. Being able to take the bus to the top of the hill and disappear into Tilden Park when I was a kid was the best thing ever, and it really helped me through a lot. So I would say Tilden was maybe the first place where I really sought refuge in the natural world.
In addition to environmental grief, you’ve spoken about the role personal grief played in the creation of this album, and the presence of these feelings is very tangible throughout. Has some part of you had to practice becoming more vulnerable as an artist over time, or did the process of sharing your pain through your songwriting come naturally?
I have been accused throughout my career of writing songs that are a little bit too easy to figure out, you know, where they’re from. They’re personal songs — people have noted that. [But] maybe they’re putting stuff in them that’s not actually there, and I believe that to be the case on some of the stuff. Writing has always been my best source of communication with the world and I think I’ve always just written from an emotional place. If my songs are deeper now, it’s because events in life are a lot harder when you’re 73 than when you’re 23 or 33 or 43.
One of the more uncommon forms of grief is the grief over the loss of one’s own voice. A few years ago, you lost your singing voice for six months. What was that experience like for you, as someone who’s spent so much of your life using your voice to connect with the world?
It was terrible. It was paresis, [so] the right side of my neck muscles were paralyzed, and I couldn’t move my larynx on the right side. It made singing very, very difficult, until it got to a point where my voice just quit. And I thought, I’m not gonna sing anymore. It took about six months to recover, and it hasn’t completely recovered. My voice is different now.
It was a very difficult time. I went to many doctors, and one said, “Well, you have about a 50/50 chance of getting your voice back.” And I’m going, “Those odds are just not good, you know? It could happen or not — it’s a coin toss.” That freaked me out.
But some amazing things happened in that time. I have an annual gig, the concert I do at the Freight & Salvage here in Berkeley, my hometown, over Thanksgiving weekend. When I had no voice, I didn’t want to give up my night, so I asked my friends to come and sing my songs. I put together a folder of tons of songs and nobody picked the same song. It was amazing. It was the most incredible healing night of music for me. I mean, it was really the best Laurie Lewis show ever and I never opened my mouth except to speak a little bit. It was really lovely. Out of anything, I think that helped me get my voice back.
I’m honestly tearing up a little hearing you talk about that. It really speaks to the power of community. Speaking of community and audiences, who do you write music for? When you’re writing a song or recording an album, do you have a particular listener or audience in mind?
Just myself, really. It’s very selfish. [Laughs] I mean, I just write for myself, what I’m feeling or what I’m observing. … That’s always the starting point. If I think up a story, it’s because I want to tell the story, you know? I want to hear the story. If it’s an emotional thing, it’s because it’s something I’m dealing with or going through. But after the initial thought, I try and use my craft to make the songs better so that somebody can actually understand what I’m singing about and talking about in my music. And that’s really the most gratifying thing, when a listener really responds. It’s just great.
You’ve described your music, particularly on this album, as a way of interpreting the voices of the landscapes you adore. How do you experience or receive the voices of the natural world? How did you learn to listen for these much-needed voices?
I’ve always been a fairly quiet person. I listen more than I speak. I’ve had to actually learn to speak, you know, out loud. But I think I just have an observational approach to the world. I would rather listen and observe people talking to me than jump in and add my own spin or make a lot of noise myself. The same thing is true in my relationship with the natural world. I’m an avid walker and I find that walking and listening and looking in the natural world is my favorite thing to do.
Do you have a favorite song on the album?
I like a lot of them actually. You know, they’re different moods. Speaking of walking, “Just a Little Ways Down the Road” I find to be just so fun to sing and play. And of course, “Enough.” It’s heart-wrenching for me. It’s still hard for me to play that song in public. It requires a really different audience. It’s not a festival song. It’s much quieter, so I hold it back a lot. I just love the sound of the instruments on that cut. But I really like them all, from “Just a Little Ways Down the Road” to “Rock the Pain Away.”
It depends on the mood too. If I talk about John Prine and I sing that song [“Why’d You Have to Break My Heart?”], that really goes over well with audiences. I truly appreciate that people connect with that song.
Do you have a favorite tree?
[Laughs] No. I do not have a favorite tree.
Fair enough. [Laughs]
The California buckeye – I think it’s the prettiest little tree ever. But then I see another, you know? I was just out in Colorado among the junipers. That was the main tree alongside the river, junipers and cottonwoods. Every one of those trees was astoundingly beautiful – and so tenacious.
Is there somewhere special close to home where you’ve been going recently to be with the trees?
Well, yes. I stick around home quite a bit, because I have a lot of caregiving to do with my partner. We had to cut down a tree in our yard a couple of years ago and I was very, very sad about cutting down this great big old blackwood acacia. But we had to do it – it was gonna fall over and wreak havoc. But it cleared the way for me to view these two enormous birch trees that are like four-stories high in the neighbors’ yard. Those two trees are just remarkable, through all the seasons. They’re so graceful, and they change so much. I’ve been enjoying those trees a lot from the kitchen.
And Tilden Park is still my go-to. It’s five minutes up the road, so I can get out and walk amongst the oaks and the laurels and, unfortunately, eucalyptus, which is an invasive fire-hazard tree around here, but they’re still beautiful.
It’s so special that you still get to spend time in the same place that meant so much to you as a kid. There’s really so much we could talk about, but is there anything else you’d like to share about the album?
I did it mostly with a very small group of fantastic musicians – my bandmates Hasee Ciaccio on bass, Brandon Godman on fiddle, Patrick Sauber on banjo, and then George Guthrie also on banjo and some guitar. It’s just been really great working with these wonderful people. What they bring to the songs and how they help shape the music, they really are part of the fabric of what makes this album what it is, and it feels important to me to share that.
Last month, Sister Sadie took the stage at Nashville’s Station Inn to showcase and celebrate their latest album, No Fear. And although the title itself could be an ode to the group’s unrelenting urge to hop genre fences – from bluegrass to country to pop and back again – it’s also a nod to the resiliency of the band itself.
With No Fear, Sister Sadie showcase three-part, songbird harmonies backed by a keen musical aptitude that’s equally distributed throughout the quintet. The 13-song LP combines the “high, lonesome sound” of bluegrass with a blend of country and pop sensibilities a la The Chicks, Little Big Town, or Pistol Annies.
“There’s a space for bluegrass meets Americana meets country meets pop — that’s what I’m manifesting,” says fiddler and de facto band leader, Deanie Richardson.
To note, the Station Inn appearance was a full-circle sort of thing for the ensemble. First coming together at the storied venue by pure happenstance in December 2012, Richardson, banjoist Gena Britt, and former members guitarist Dale Ann Bradley, bassist Beth Lawrence, and mandolinist Tina Adair were simply a collection of pickers and singers from different circles in Music City.
That initial gig went extremely well, so much so that more shows were booked and things started to unfold into a full-fledged band – albeit one where the members still held day jobs and were raising families. But, the music felt right and so did the performances, so why not tempt fate and see where this ride may go?
Well, what a ride it has been thus far. Appearances on the Grand Ole Opry. Three IBMA awards for Vocal Group of the Year (2019, 2020, 2021) and one for Entertainer of the Year (2020), with Richardson taking home Fiddle Player of the Year in 2020. And a Grammy nomination for Best Bluegrass Album for the 2018 release, Sister Sadie II.
But, in recent years, three of those founding members — Bradley, Lawrence, and Adair — left to pursue other projects, which, in turn, posed one lingering question to Richardson and Britt — where to from here?
“When we started 12 years ago, when we hit that first note at the Station Inn, we felt this magical chemistry in the band,” Richardson says. “Somehow, every time we reinvent this [band], I still feel that magical chemistry when we play music.”
Instead of throwing in the towel and saying it was good while it lasted, Richardson and Britt forged ahead, come hell or high water. They regrouped and reemerged into this next, unknown chapter. Soon, Jaelee Roberts and Dani Flowers came into the fold, both bringing songwriting prowess as well as providing guitar and vocal harmonies to ideally complement Britt. Then, in 2023, bassist Maddie Dalton hopped onboard.
“It’s an eclectic group of ladies and of musical tastes,” Richardson says. “Our home, our hearts and our souls are in bluegrass music. That’s what we love, that’s our passion, but there’s a lot of room for growth there.”
The new album, it’s not bluegrass. It’s not country. It’s just good music. In my opinion, it would be a shame to pigeonhole your music.
Deanie Richardson: Well, that would be our dream, Garret, for someone to not try to put some sort of label or pigeonhole it into somewhere. But, unfortunately, it happens. We went in there with great tunes and just let them arrange themselves, let them work themselves out in the studio. And this is what we got. So, I didn’t go in with bluegrass in mind. I didn’t go in with country in mind. I just went in with all my pals, people I love — great players and great songs.
Is that more by design or just how things have evolved?
DR: I think that’s how it’s evolved. That was not the original [Sister] Sadie. That’s this combination of girls right here. When you have personnel changes like we’ve have along the way, the energy changes — everything shifts.
Gena Britt: You have to reinvent yourself.
DR: You’ve got to figure out where you land when Jaelee Roberts comes in and changes everything. And then you’ve got to figure out where you land when Dani Flowers comes in. And Maddie Dalton. We’ve had three new members. That changes the energy. It changes the vibe. It changes the feel. It changes the vocals. It changes everything. This whole band has grown organically over the last 12 years. This is just where it is right now. We’re about to go in and record a new one and, shoot, it may sound like ZZ Top. I don’t know — you never know.
And I have a lot of solidarity with that, the attitude of just go in and see what happens, see what sticks and see what works.
Dani Flowers: Every single person in this band is a big fan of good writing and good songs. Just trying to serve the song and make sure it had what it needed rather than trying to put any one certain song in a box that it might not fit in.
How does that play into personal goals with the band’s expectations? There’s a lot of a crossover factor in the music. I hear just as much country as I do bluegrass in there.
GB: We’re just going for what we feel. We want to be excited about the song as we want everybody that’s listening to be excited. When we’re in the studio, these songs were brought to life in such a great way.
With the new members, what was kind of the intent coming into the group?
Jaelee Roberts: When I was asked to audition, I was kind of flabbergasted, because I looked up to Sister Sadie. These are all my heroes playing together in a band. And I had grown up around them. It was such a surreal feeling to get to audition. I get to not only learn more from them than I was already learning from them, but I get to part of that and grow with them, bring my spin on stuff.
DF: It was definitely a no-brainer for me when it came to joining the band. I’ve known Deanie since I was 16 or 17, Gena since I was 19 or 20. I’ve always admired them both. They’re incredible at what they do. It was really great for me. I was in the music industry for a while. I had a record deal. I wrote for a publishing company. And then, I had a kid and kind of stopped doing it all for a while. So, to join a band full of women that I already love was a great way to get back into playing music.
And with founding members of a band leaving, there’s this creative vacuum that can occur, where maybe there are more opportunities for other people to step up.
DR: Oh, that’s so great, because it’s true. With the personnel changes we’ve had, there’s been more opportunities for different styles, different vocalists, different everything. It’s crazy how that energy shift just redirects everything. You find a new tunnel or rabbit hole to go down or a new vision. It’s super fun to hear those potential songs and figure out whose voice is going to work. If you listen to a song, it actually tells you where it wants to go.
GB: This band is kind of a melting pot. We all bring such different things to the band. And then, when you put it all together and mix it all together, it’s this great recipe for things that are magical. It’s just heartwarming, too. We actually hangout together when we’re not playing on the road — not a lot of bands do that.
With the band shakeup and everything that’s happened to Sister Sadie in recent years — winning the IBMA for Entertainer of the Year, switching record labels to Mountain Home — what made you decide to keep it going? Was there a moment of maybe shutting it down and doing something else?
DR: One hundred percent. You’re on it. With the last personnel change, Gena and I were on the phone like, “We’re 10 years into this thing. Is it time to call it? Maybe it’s just time.” This band happened by just a group of friends getting together and playing the Station Inn. Then, “Hey, that went really well. Let’s playing the Station Inn again.” Then, Gena starts getting calls from promoters. Do a few shows. Then, Pinecastle says, “Hey, let’s do a record.” We do a record. We do another record. We get nominated for a Grammy.
But, we’ve never really gone in 100 percent. It’s just been organic. I’ve got a ton of things going on. I’ve got a seven-year-old. Gena’s got a job and two kids. It’s never like, “Let’s form a band and let’s go do this.” It was always sort of The Seldom Scene thing — we’ll play when it makes sense. And then, I was like, “What if we give this thing everything we’ve got? What if we put in one 110 percent? What if we got a team? What if we got a manager? What if we got a new record label? What if we got a booking agent? Let’s devote one year to this 110 percent and see what happens” — that’s where we are.
I’m 52 years old. I’ve been doing this and on the road since I was 15. This is the best record we’ve ever done. Going all in was the best choice that we could’ve made.
Despite her well-earned reputation as one of Nashville’s strongest songwriters and nuanced singers, Brandy Clark had gotten used to not hearing her name called at Grammy Awards ceremonies. Two years ago, her friend Brandi Carlile decided to do something about that. Carlile produced Clark’s fourth studio album, Brandy Clark, which earned five of the six nominations she got this year, upping her tally to 17 — one of which turned into her first win. Clark was honored for Best Americana Performance for “Dear Insecurity,” a duet with Carlile. After her win, Clark told a backstage interviewer, “Brandi is the reason why I made this record and why this song is what it is.”
But as Clark explained in an earlier BGS interview, the catalyst for that collaboration — her most personal, affecting work yet — was one of those Grammys she didn’t win.
So how did Brandi’s involvement come about?
Brandy Clark: The label wanted me to record two more songs for a deluxe version of Your Life is a Record. I had made that record with Jay Joyce, and he couldn’t do it. Tracy Gershon, a mutual friend of Brandi and I, said, “What if Brandi produced?” And Brandi was willing to do it. It was a really good experience, mostly because Brandi really follows her gut instinct, which is so amazing. I tend to overthink. And then “Same Devil,” which was part of that, ended up nominated at the next Grammys. We didn’t win, and she leaned over to me and said I looked really devastated. I didn’t remember feeling particularly devastated, but she said I just looked really sad, so she said, “Hey, buddy, we’ll get one. I’d love to do a whole record with you.” I was like, “Really?” And she said, “Yeah, I’ve thought about it. I think these things through when I get involved in a project; I think about the artwork, I think about everything. I’d see it as your return to the Northwest, because I’m from the Northwest.”
It was such a different experience for me, because Brandi’s an artist. I think producers lead with whatever their original instrument is; if they were a guitar player, they lead with that. If they were a songwriter, they lead with that. I’ve never worked with a producer that could sing to me what they heard, and also keep me from over-singing. And she wanted as many live vocals as possible. That was different for me. And she really challenged me to get to the heart of who I am as an artist. No producer’s ever asked me to make lyric changes; she said, “I just want to believe that you believe everything you’re saying.”
What’s an example of a lyric she asked you to change?
“Buried;” the second verse used to start out, “I’ll read ‘Lonesome Dove,’ I’ll start doing yoga,” and she said, “I don’t like that yoga line.” I was thinking, “I don’t care if you like it or not.” That was my first [reaction]. I said, “Why not?” She’s like, “Well, I just don’t believe that you do yoga.” I said, “I don’t.” She’s like, “Then it shouldn’t be in the song.” And she was right.
You do heartbreak songs so extraordinarily well. Even the ones that aren’t sometimes feel like heartbreak songs, because they’re so full of emotion. “Dear Insecurity” — to hear that coming from the perspective of two women who are both stars now, and yet it’s so believable — it’s not like two women just singing “Oh, yeah, we’re insecure,” you really believe it. That’s what’s so striking about all of your songwriting, but to be able to do that, and do it well, and to know that it doesn’t matter how big you get, you still experience that …
Oh, I have massive insecurities. I think everybody does. That’s why I think that song hits; to be human is to be insecure. And the more willing you are to admit those insecurities, the less they rule you. That song came from— I had gotten my feelings hurt. A really great friend of mine says insecurity is the ugliest human emotion; it’s what makes people do mean things. So I was trying to remember that on the way to my writing appointment that morning, because I wanted to get into a good headspace to write with someone I had never written with. When I was sitting in the car, I started to think about my own insecurities, and the things that they have messed up along the way for me. I thought, “Wouldn’t that be something, to write a letter to insecurity?”
Why did you and Brandi choose to duet on that song?
Well, going in, I never heard that song as a duet. The first day we were in the studio, she said, “What do you think about ‘Dear Insecurity’ being a duet?” I loved the idea; I heard it as a duet with a guy, because men have insecurities just like women do. She really wanted Lucinda Williams. Because we hadn’t secured anybody yet, she said, “I’ll sing the scratch [vocal], and then we’ll see about getting Lucinda in here.” So she started to sing, and we really got lost in it.
Brandi had also been pretty adamant that she didn’t want to be a feature on this record, because of producing it, and because we had done that other feature, [“Same Devil”]. She just didn’t want it to look like she was trying to get featured. But when it was going down, I could just feel this magic happening. When I listened to the board mix, I thought, “Oh, God, what am I going to do? I don’t want to hear anybody but her on this now.” I loved the way that our voices battled each other and melded together. So I said the next day, “Brandi, I really want it to be you.” And she was like, “Oh, that’s all you had to say.” It was perfect because we have similar insecurities. We’re around the same age, both gay, like, there’s insecurities in that. We’re very similar, and very different. And it just worked.
In what other ways did she influence or impact this album?
There were a couple of things that I’ll take with me forever. When she was asking me to make lyric changes, that really bothered me. It felt disrespectful to the co-writers to do that on the fly, and I told her that. I said, “These songs, none of them were just slapped together, because I don’t write that way.” No offense to anyone who does, I just have to put a lot of thought into songs for ’em to be good. And it took other people to write these songs that I respect and that put their heart and soul into this, too. And I like to be in service to the song. And she said, “Well, I understand that. I think this time, you need to be in service to the artist.” It put me in a different space as an artist than I’ve ever been in. I always come at things as a songwriter first. This record, I came at it as an artist first.
The other thing – and I’m so glad that I asked her this question, and that she answered it the way she did, because it makes me think differently; I’ve never worked with a producer on a record that I was a co-writer with. So they’re always, to me, the last writer on the songs. The positive is that they’re making choices based on what they feel when they hear them the first time, like a listener. …I always give a producer probably 18 to 24 songs, then I’m just too close to pick the 10 or 12. So she picked the songs that she thought should be on this record. When she gave me her list of what she really wanted us to dive into, I said, “Why did you choose those 10?” And she said, “Well, they were all great songs; but I chose the songs that I felt like you wrote in your bedroom.” That was such a great thing… it reminded me that when all of us picked up a guitar or pad of paper the first time, it wasn’t to impress anybody. It was to just get some emotion out that we could only get out through song.
There’s another song on here, “She Smoked in the House,” that I wrote about my grandma that I never thought would be on any record. I thought I was just writing it for me. People have responded so strongly to that song, it just helps me know I need to double down on me and what I’m feeling, instead of what I think people want to hear. That sounds really simple, but it’s easy to forget that if we’re feeling something, other people are gonna feel it. And if we’re not, nobody’s gonna feel it.
You once told me your mission was to write a classic like “Crazy.” While listening to this album and Shucked [the Broadway musical for which she and Shane McAnally co-wrote the music and lyrics], it occurred to me that you have. A song like “Friends,” that’s gonna be sung at thousands of weddings and graduations, and “Take Mine” and “Up Above the Clouds” and these other tracks… I kept thinking of the great Randy Newman tearjerker songs in Pixar films.
I’ve always thought “Up Above the Clouds” should be in one of those.
Totally! Are you working on that?
Yes. It makes me feel amazing that you feel like I have written a classic song like that. I’m going to hang on to that today, and then I’m going to let it go. Because what keeps me hungry as a songwriter is to think I haven’t.
You mentioned you might do something else with Brandi. Are you already talking about that?
No, but we clearly work well together and people like what we do. She’s a little bit like Shane for me; I feel like the sum of our parts is greater than two people.
I love that you’re all part of this connected group of people, especially women. I remember Allison Russell crediting Brandi with elevating her family out of poverty, and to be able to do that for so many people …
That’s a testament to Brandi. She’s on top of the world and she’s choosing to elevate other people; she said to me when she approached me about this, “You deserve to be in the same spot as me on festival posters. That’s what I want.” A lot of people have a scarcity mindset. She has an abundant mindset and wants to raise up the music of other people that inspires her. That inspires me to do the same.
My trajectory is on a really great path right now. And then I look to someone like her and think, “OK, where do I pay it forward? Where do I lift someone else up?” Because it’s really easy when you’re just grinding and trying to get your own star to rise, to not look around and think, “Oh, how can I help someone else?” But she really inspires me to do that.
Since the Grammy Awards ceremony on February 4, the country and folk music worlds have waited with bated breath for the Recording Academy to share a stand-alone video of Tracy Chapman and Luke Combs’ stunning collaboration on their mutual, cross-generational hit, “Fast Car.” Late last week, the Academy made our dreams come true – you can now watch the performance in its entirety. (View above.)
The song was a highlight of the Grammys’ primetime telecast and, to its global audience and more thanone commentator, signaled a sense of unity and come-togetherness that many feel is woefully lacking in the current zeitgeist, news cycle, and pop culture content machines. Chapman seemed to glow while Combs quite obviously basked in her limelight, content in sharing the stage and the iconic song with one of his childhood heroes. Chapman, something of a recluse in the past two decades, occupied the enormous Crypto.com Arena stage with a quiet confidence and an undercurrent of joy. An electric energy emanated from her guitar strings as she picked the unmistakable melodic hook. Then, on the song’s soaring chorus, the two sang in unison, finding power and common ground in a lyric that has now been sung, heard, and enjoyed by millions more – and entirely new generations.
In the audience, celebrities and musicians like Taylor Swift, Michael Trotter of the War and Treaty, Brandi Carlile, and many more sang along boisterously, indicating the staying power of the song and its lyrics – and the long-lasting adoration held by so many for Chapman.
“Fast Car” will continue to resonate long into the future – and not just on road trip playlists. It’s a perfect, sonic example of the angst endemic to the American dream, of queer placemaking and history-telling, and of all the ways a story so specific, granular, and microscopic could feel entirely universal and relatable. There’s a reason why so many listeners have needed reminding that Combs didn’t, in fact, write the song himself – no matter who we are, where we come from, or who we love, we all so easily see ourselves reflected in “Fast Car.” We’re each hungry for that reflection; “Fast Car” is satiating and then some.
For a brief moment during the Grammys’ 66th Awards Ceremony, we were all contented, joyful passengers in Chapman and Combs’ cosmic “Fast Car.” Let’s each take time to continue to inhabit that moment, as we navigate the traffic of our busy, distinct, distracting, and often divided lives.
On Sunday night, the music industry gathered in Los Angeles at the Crypto.com Arena for the 66th Grammy Awards. While Miley Cyrus and Taylor Swift took home the evening’s biggest honors, the primetime broadcast and pre-awards telecast saw many roots musicians honored for their musical achievements.
This year’s Best Bluegrass Album nominees were a stout collection of records including Radio John: Songs of John Hartford by Sam Bush, Lovin’ Of The Game by Michael Cleveland, Mighty Poplar by Mighty Poplar, Bluegrass by Willie Nelson, Me/And/Dad by Billy Strings, and City Of Gold by Molly Tuttle & Golden Highway, who took home the trophy for the second year in a row.
In other categories, Allison Russell took home her first Grammy Award after eight nominations – for Best American Roots Performance for “Eve Was Black.” Lainey Wilson won Best Country Album for Bell Bottom Country, Bobby Rush took home the trophy for Best Traditional Blues Album (his third Grammy), and Joni Mitchell won her tenth Grammy for Best Folk Album. Meanwhile, the number one country song for now more than 17 weeks, “I Remember Everything” by Zach Bryan and featuring Kacey Musgraves, was awarded Best Country Duo/Group Performance.
Below, find a full list of this year’s Grammy Award nominees and winners in the Country & American Roots Music fields, as well as selected categories from the greater nominations list featuring roots musicians within and adjacent to our BGS family.
Record Of The Year
“Worship” Jon Batiste
“Not Strong Enough” boygenius
“Flowers” Miley Cyrus
“What Was I Made For?” [from the motion picture Barbie] Billie Eilish
“On My Mama” Victoria Monét
“Vampire” Olivia Rodrigo
“Anti-Hero” Taylor Swift
“Kill Bill” SZA
Album of the Year
World Music Radio Jon Batiste
the record boygenius
Endless Summer Vacation Miley Cyrus
Did You Know That There’s A Tunnel Under Ocean Blvd Lana Del Rey
The Age Of Pleasure Janelle Monáe
GUTS Olivia Rodrigo
Midnights Taylor Swift
SOS SZA
Best New Artist
Gracie Abrams Fred again.. Ice Spice Jelly Roll Coco Jones Noah Kahan Victoria Monét The War & Treaty
Best Rock Performance
“Sculptures Of Anything Goes” Arctic Monkeys
“More Than A Love Song” Black Pumas
“Not Strong Enough” boygenius
“Rescued” Foo Fighters
“Lux Æterna” Metallica
Best Country Solo Performance
“In Your Love” Tyler Childers
“Buried” Brandy Clark
“Fast Car” Luke Combs
“The Last Thing On My Mind” Dolly Parton
“White Horse” Chris Stapleton
Best Country Duo/Group Performance
“High Note” Dierks Bentley featuring Billy Strings
“Abundance In Millets” Falu & Gaurav Shah (featuring PM Narendra Modi)
“Pashto” Béla Fleck, Edgar Meyer & Zakir Hussain Featuring Rakesh Chaurasia
“Todo Colores” Ibrahim Maalouf Featuring Cimafunk & Tank And The Bangas
Best Music Video
“I’m Only Sleeping” (The Beatles)
“In Your Love” Tyler Childers
“What Was I Made For” Billie Eilish
“Count Me Out” Kendrick Lamar
“Rush” Troye Sivan
Best Instrumental Composition
“Amerikkan Skin” Lakecia Benjamin, composer (Lakecia Benjamin featuring Angela Davis)
“Can You Hear The Music” Ludwig Göransson, composer (Ludwig Göransson)
“Cutey And The Dragon” Gordon Goodwin & Raymond Scott, composers (Quartet San Francisco featuring Gordon Goodwin’s Big Phat Band)
“Helena’s Theme” John Williams, composer (John Williams)
“Motion” Edgar Meyer, composer (Béla Fleck, Edgar Meyer & Zakir Hussain featuring Rakesh Chaurasia)
Best Arrangement, Instrumental or A Cappella
“Angels We Have Heard On High” Nkosilathi Emmanuel Sibanda, arranger (Just 6)
“Can You Hear The Music” Ludwig Göransson, arranger (Ludwig Göransson)
“Folsom Prison Blues” John Carter Cash, Tommy Emmanuel, Markus Illko, Janet Robin & Roberto Luis Rodriguez, arrangers (The String Revolution featuring Tommy Emmanuel)
“I Remember Mingus” Hilario Duran, arranger (Hilario Duran And His Latin Jazz Big Band featuring Paquito D’Rivera)
“Paint It Black” Esin Aydingoz, Chris Bacon & Alana Da Fonseca, arrangers (Wednesday Addams)
Photo: Molly Tuttle & Bronwyn Keith-Hynes via the Recording Academy
Stripping away convention, honing in on narrative, and keeping complex melodies afloat with her ethereal vocals, Sarah Jarosz is a superlative presence in the roots music landscape. The daughter of two schoolteachers hailing from Wimberley, Texas, she began learning to play the mandolin at age 9. By the time she turned 12, Sarah was already gracing stages alongside the likes of musical giants David Grisman and Ricky Skaggs.
Her multi-instrumentalist capabilities and songwriting proficiency only grew from there; at the age of 16, Jarosz signed a deal with Sugar Hill Records and released her first album, Song Up in Her Head, in 2009. This critically acclaimed record would be the first of what now surmounts to seven full-length, tremendously lauded projects. Polaroid Lovers, Jarosz’s latest and the muse of her current tour, is set to be released on January 26, 2024.
Over the span of nearly two decades spent recording and touring, Sarah Jarosz has established herself as a foundational thread in the tapestry of modern roots music. From impeccable collaborations (with Punch Brothers, David Grisman, Sierra Ferrell), to forming a supergroup alongside Aoife O’Donovan and Sarah Watkins (I’m With Her), to a whopping 5 hours and 45 minutes of music published under her name, Jarosz stands firmly in her power. As she forges ahead, she only continues to outdo herself.
While her entire catalog is sure to edify any listener, this compilation showcases some of Jarosz’s most essential tracks. Tracing the arc of her musicianship from adolescence to adulthood, the following 17 songs demonstrate the particular sonic maturity, lyrical astuteness, and emotional evocation that span all she creates.
“Mansinneedof”
From Jarosz’s first album, Song Up in Her Head, this indelible instrumental boldly answers the question, “Can a mandolin be a lead instrument?” with a resounding, “Of course!” The first of many Grammy nominations acquired throughout her career, this tune was considered for Best Country Instrumental in 2009. Impossibly advanced beyond her years, Jarosz’s nimble and articulate melody is akin to a sonic coast through star-studded galaxies.
“Come On Up To The House”
In a clear demonstration of the range of her musical influences, the most-streamed song from Sarah’s inaugural album is a cover of Tom Waits’s “Come On Up To The House.” Her cool, slippery voice lends a new angle to the iconic tune. Paired with astute backing vocals from Tim O’Brien and a slick fiddle solo by Alex Hargreaves, this song grooves right along – an ingenious, albeit unlikely, bluegrass cover.
“Annabelle Lee”
Jarosz’s sophomore album, Follow Me Down, is latent with a mystical quality that reaches towards the ethers, shepherded into expansiveness by a creative spectrum of influences. The third track, “Annabelle Lee,” features lyrics adapted from the illustrious Edgar Allen Poe poem of the same name. Jarosz sets the eerie tale against a conglomerate of haunting textures – the heightened pace and drums evoke a sense of urgency while Jerry Douglas makes his lap steel wail, a somber cello moans, and Dan Tyminski’s backing vocals lend fullness to the ravenous depths of this dark tune. It is also worth noting that Jarosz performed and recorded this tune, very fittingly filmed in an old hunting lodge in the Scottish Highlands, for the Transatlantic Sessions in 2011. (Watch above.)
“The Tourist”
Sarah sure knows how to pick a cover. From Prince to the Decemberists to Joanna Newsom, she can masterfully braid her grace and artistry into anything. “The Tourist” offers Jarosz’s take on Radiohead, an influence cited among many of Jarosz’s contemporaries, including Madison Cunningham and Chris Thile. In fact, Punch Brothers provide the musical backdrop on this track, their syncopated rhythms and blustery fills meeting Jarosz and Thile’s airtight harmonies to create a sense of whirling, palpable, delicate angst.
“Build Me Up From Bones”
Off of her Grammy-nominated third album, this titular track received an additional nom for Best American Roots Song of 2014. This song is SJ’s most popular of all time, having racked up a total of 70.7M streams on Spotify. Here, Jarosz’s songwriting forges into new territory; her lyrics are both poetic and measured, imbued with textures of velvety longing. The form matches the content, from Aoife O’Donovan’s dewy harmonies to the pizzicato string section to the gorgeous cello solo. Effectively, listeners are bathed in a most intimate listening experience that beckons infinite re-listens.
“1,000 Things”
In another track off of Build Me Up From Bones, here SJ shares songwriting credits with the legendary Darrell Scott. The result? Pure synastry. Underscored by pulsating Celtic rhythms, this uptempo earworm says 1,000 things despite its brevity.
“House of Mercy”
This tune, along with the album carrying it – Undercurrent – won Sarah her first two Grammys in one night. “House of Mercy” was crowned Best American Roots Performance of 2017, and it was indubitably worthy. Jarosz shares songwriting credits with Australian singer-songwriter Jedd Hughes, and together they achieve a dark story arc as the encumbered narrator addresses an unwanted visitor. Jarosz opens up her sound into cutting, fierce Americana twang – effectively offering audiences a new layer to her multitudes of sound.
“Jacqueline”
The closing track of Undercurrent is stark, honest, and bewildering. The song is named after the Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis Reservoir in New York City where Jarosz, who once lived nearby, would often do her pondering. Accompanied solely by an electric guitar, Jarosz’s voice is agile and glimmering as liquid silver. She muses over the reflective surface and projected companion while disclosing her own state of unease, immersing listeners in an intimate, unyielding pensiveness.
“Your Water” (with Parker Millsap)
The first of a two-single release titled the Luck Mansion Sessions (2017), SJ here collaborates with fellow singer-songwriter and multi-instrumentalist Parker Millsap. The track, written and originally released by Millsap, is delivered as a duet. The groove opens up into a soul-type feel, allowing for Sarah to showcase a more raw, bluesy, unmeasured latitude of her voice.
“See You Around”
“See You Around” is the title track off of supergroup I’m With Her’s first and – to every listener’s chagrin – only full-length album. In 2018, Jarosz linked up with two of the most astounding women in roots music, Aoife O’Donovan and Sara Watkins, to form a trio of unadulterated excellence (it should be noted that that group won Americana Music Association’s Music Duo/Group of the Year). The album waffles between the three songwriters’ contributions, with each vocalist singing lead on an approximately even number of tracks. “See You Around” is driven by Jarosz’s signature poetic lyrics and fluttery melody, elevated to new horizons by the pristine, angelic blend of harmonies from Watkins and O’Donovan. The musical chemistry these women share evokes the divine; every single song on this album delivers listeners into the sublime.
“Johnny”
For her also Grammy-winning fifth studio album, World on the Ground (2020), Sarah Jarosz invites listeners to experience an array of vignettes; her songs on this album, more than ever, become vehicles for potent storytelling.“Johnny” is the second of three tracks on the album named, presumably, for a character the song aims to illustrate. Jarosz has said that during this album, she “[Tried] to take a step back and look out at the world in my songwriting, rather than looking inward,” and spent much time constructing the album as a patchwork of memories from her hometown in Texas, both faithful and fictionalized.
“Johnny” conveys the psychological landscape of a slightly drunk, slightly disillusioned man who is “just waitin’ on the stars/ that will never align.” It’s all slightly devastating, yet the melody latches onto an unforgettable earworm of a hook uplifted by its folk-pop flavor. Jarosz incorporates a strings section alongside drums, electric guitar, and mandolin, seamlessly using the nuances of sound to bolster the complex mundanities of Johnny’s life.
“Pay It No Mind”
Jarosz shares the songwriting credits on “Pay It No Mind” (also off of World on the Ground) with the renowned John Leventhal, who also produced the album and plays a slew of instruments sprinkled throughout. The song begins with just Sarah and a pensive guitar riff, musing upon a bird and her ponderings. The song then builds in dynamics, layering percussion and eventually a full orchestration of instruments and vocals. It’s slick, it’s sly, and it looks at the world with a cool sense of distance.
“I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For” / “my future”
In the midst of quarantine, Sarah Jarosz committed to staying connected with fans by using Garageband and her home microphone to record one cover each week from July to October of 2020. In January 2021, she released two of the covers, U2’s “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For” and Billie Eilish’s “my future,” on streaming services. These barebones covers are a time capsule of a moment drenched in emotion, isolation, and fear. Catharsis swells through the minimalistic recordings – Jarosz cradles her whole soul into these songs, and the results are absolutely astounding.
“Mama”
For her sixth full-length studio album, Blue Heron Suite (2021), Sarah Jarosz released a song cycle that she first premiered at Freshgrass in 2017, whereupon she was awarded with the Freshgrass Composition Commission. At the time, Sarah was reckoning with her mother’s cancer diagnosis and reflecting upon childhood trips to the town of Port Aransas, Texas, which at that time had recently been severely affected by Hurricane Harvey. Named for the Great Blue Herons she and her mother used to observe along the town’s shore, this album is imbued with love and hope in its deepest forms. “Mama,” the opening track, is an utterly gorgeous, pared-down arrangement of voice and guitar – a most gentle and tender ode to Jarosz’s mother, who is thankfully now in remission.
“For Free” (with David Crosby)
An astonishing songwriter and pioneer of three-part harmony in American roots/folk music as we know it, David Crosby was a long time supporter of Sarah Jarosz’s work up until his passing last January. Sarah graced the title track of Crosby’s final full-length solo album, For Free (2021). The two sing the entirety of this Joni Mitchell cover in tight harmony, their voices mirroring one another perfectly. The pared back solo piano accompaniment highlights the duo’s vocal finesse; every riff is intertwined with precision and elegance.
“Jealous Moon”
“Jealous Moon” was the first of four singles SJ released from her upcoming album, Polaroid Lovers (out this Friday). Co-written alongside Daniel Tashian, the record’s producer, Sarah remarks of the song, “I’m always seeking to push myself into new sonic territory, and this song gave me permission to not hold back.” In this track, she boldly steps away from her traditional acoustic tethers and moves towards a more pop-rock-twang fusion. Jarosz successfully elicits a sense of novelty while still embodying the sense of fullness and depth she puts into all she creates – reminding us that we still have yet to see the full bloom of her artistry.
This morning via livestream the Recording Academy announced the full list of nominations for the 2024 Grammy Awards, which will take place on Sunday, February 4 at Crypto.com Arena in Los Angeles. Viewers will be able to tune into the 66th Grammy Awards via CBS and Paramount+.
Roots music is well represented across the nominations list – and not just in the Country & American Roots Music Field. Jon Batiste and boygenius are both up for Record of the Year and Album of the Year; Noah Kahan and The War & Treaty both made the final round for Best New Artist; Jessie Jo Dillon and Shane McAnally – both in-demand Music Row songwriters – are each in the running for Songwriter of the Year, Non-Classical; and throughout this year’s categories we find exemplary roots musicians representing the nearest and furthest branches, boughs, and ecosystems of these traditions we hold so dear.
This year’s Best Bluegrass Album nominees are a stout collection of records including Radio John: Songs of John Hartford by Sam Bush, Lovin’ Of The Game by Michael Cleveland, Mighty Poplar by Mighty Poplar, Bluegrass by Willie Nelson, Me/And/Dad by Billy Strings, and City Of Gold by Molly Tuttle & Golden Highway – the reigning winners in the category.
Below, find a full list of this year’s Grammy nominations in the Country & American Roots Music Field, as well as selected categories from the greater nominations list featuring roots musicians within and adjacent to our BGS family. (See the entire, exhaustive list via the Recording Academy here.)
Record Of The Year
“Worship” Jon Batiste
“Not Strong Enough” boygenius
“Flowers” Miley Cyrus
“What Was I Made For?” [from the motion picture Barbie] Billie Eilish
“On My Mama” Victoria Monét
“Vampire” Olivia Rodrigo
“Anti-Hero” Taylor Swift
“Kill Bill” SZA
Album of the Year
World Music Radio Jon Batiste
the record boygenius
Endless Summer Vacation Miley Cyrus
Did You Know That There’s A Tunnel Under Ocean Blvd Lana Del Rey
The Age Of Pleasure Janelle Monáe
GUTS Olivia Rodrigo
Midnights Taylor Swift
SOS SZA
Best New Artist
Gracie Abrams Fred again.. Ice Spice Jelly Roll Coco Jones Noah Kahan Victoria Monét The War & Treaty
Best Rock Performance
“Sculptures Of Anything Goes” Arctic Monkeys
“More Than A Love Song” Black Pumas
“Not Strong Enough” boygenius
“Rescued” Foo Fighters
“Lux Æterna” Metallica
Best Country Solo Performance
“In Your Love” Tyler Childers
“Buried” Brandy Clark
“Fast Car” Luke Combs
“The Last Thing On My Mind” Dolly Parton
“White Horse” Chris Stapleton
Best Country Duo/Group Performance
“High Note” Dierks Bentley featuring Billy Strings
“Abundance In Millets” Falu & Gaurav Shah (featuring PM Narendra Modi)
“Pashto” Béla Fleck, Edgar Meyer & Zakir Hussain Featuring Rakesh Chaurasia
“Todo Colores” Ibrahim Maalouf Featuring Cimafunk & Tank And The Bangas
Best Music Video
“I’m Only Sleeping” (The Beatles)
“In Your Love” Tyler Childers
“What Was I Made For” Billie Eilish
“Count Me Out” Kendrick Lamar
“Rush” Troye Sivan
Best Instrumental Composition
“Amerikkan Skin” Lakecia Benjamin, composer (Lakecia Benjamin featuring Angela Davis)
“Can You Hear The Music” Ludwig Göransson, composer (Ludwig Göransson)
“Cutey And The Dragon” Gordon Goodwin & Raymond Scott, composers (Quartet San Francisco featuring Gordon Goodwin’s Big Phat Band)
“Helena’s Theme” John Williams, composer (John Williams)
“Motion” Edgar Meyer, composer (Béla Fleck, Edgar Meyer & Zakir Hussain featuring Rakesh Chaurasia)
Best Arrangement, Instrumental or A Cappella
“Angels We Have Heard On High” Nkosilathi Emmanuel Sibanda, arranger (Just 6)
“Can You Hear The Music” Ludwig Göransson, arranger (Ludwig Göransson)
“Folsom Prison Blues” John Carter Cash, Tommy Emmanuel, Markus Illko, Janet Robin & Roberto Luis Rodriguez, arrangers (The String Revolution featuring Tommy Emmanuel)
“I Remember Mingus” Hilario Duran, arranger (Hilario Duran And His Latin Jazz Big Band featuring Paquito D’Rivera)
“Paint It Black” Esin Aydingoz, Chris Bacon & Alana Da Fonseca, arrangers (Wednesday Addams)
Over the past couple of decades, the music industry has seen more women rising to become leaders in audio engineering and producing. However, even as access, acceptance, and opportunity continue to improve, women are still painfully underrepresented in these career paths, making up just five percent of engineers and producers worldwide. Over the past few weeks, I’ve talked to a handful of these remarkable women, in person at coffee shops, over the phone, and via email, about how they built their careers and the challenges they have faced in a male-dominated industry. These women are trailblazers, often without career models to follow, often the only woman in the room when they work. Their tenacity, talent, and dedication are evident, and I feel honored to share their stories.
As a musician who came up in the the bluegrass scene, the first female producer I ever knew of or worked with – and now that I think of it, the only female producer I’ve worked with who was not hired by me – is the legendary Alison Brown, virtuosic banjo player and co-owner of Compass Records. Since Brown has seen a lot of generational change over her tenure in Nashville, I thought I should start by getting her perspective.
Brown had already solidified her reputation as an instrumentalist, winning IBMA’s Banjo Player of the Year award in 1991 and touring with Alison Krauss, when she decided to start a record label along with her husband, Garry West. “We were talking about how to have a sustainable life in music,” she said, “And it was one of those napkin drawing in a coffee shop moments.”
The two were on tour in Sweden with Michelle Shocked, for whom Brown was the bandleader. “When I look back, I can see how a lot of the opportunities I had were carved out for me by other women. I was about to go to law school when Shocked asked me to be her bandleader and then we went on a world tour. At Compass, I never thought of myself as a producer, Garry was more interested in that role. But when Dale Ann Bradley was going to make an album she asked me to produce it, so I said yes, and that’s how I started producing.”
Since then, Brown has produced seven Grammy-nominated records, as well as winning a Grammy for her own song, “Leaving Cottondale,” off of her 2000 record, Fair Weather.
When asked about her production style, Brown interestingly observes that she may come at it from a traditionally female perspective, by observing and predicting other people’s feelings and needs. “Especially in the studio, you need to make people feel at ease…” she explains. “Ultimately your job is to draw the best out of the musicians. Everyone has that thing they’re afraid of having to do under the microscope, but the goal is to make the musician feel comfortable enough to reach out and hit something new.”
“Sometimes with the older guard guys, I’ll say, ‘OK, lets try to play through the chart’ and they will act like they don’t understand me. ‘What did she say? What does she want to do?’ … Like they want someone to translate it for them, because it’s coming from a woman. It’s annoying, but I know they’re acting that way because they are nervous and they don’t want to look stupid. So when I’m producing, I try to intuit those things about people, and stay focused on the end goal of making a great record.”
Engineer and producer Shani Gandhi has been in Nashville since 2011, and has been been nominated for two Grammys, winning Best Engineered Album (Non-Classical) for her work on Sierra Hull’s 2020 album, 25 Trips, which she engineered, mixed, and co-produced with Hull. Originally from Singapore, Gandhi was raised in Perth, Australia. She moved to the U.S. in 2007 to attend Ithaca College, where she received a BA in music with a concentration in sound recording technology.
Gandhi was drawn to engineering and production because of her love of music and her simultaneous dislike for performing. “As a kid, I didn’t even know that that side of music existed as a career, but once I found the Audio Engineering Society, I immersed myself in it, I was obsessed.”
Gandhi told me about her philosophy for building a community you can learn from and create with. “It’s really important to have a strong community of both mentors and peers,” she explains. “I had people that I was looking up to that were holding me to a very high standard, and then I had friends and colleagues where we were all working really hard and trading favors, and that’s how I built my freelance career. So you need really good people at all levels to make it work. You don’t want to feel like the smallest person in the room all the time, but you also need someone around to tell you, ‘I know you think what you’re doing is really cool, but it’s really not,’” she laughs.
Although she works on every stage of recording and producing, Gandhi’s great love is for mixing. “My approach is to always remember that it’s not my record, it’s the artist’s art when it comes down to it and they’re the ones who have to live with it for the rest of their lives. I do like things to be lush and tall and wide and pristine. I don’t go immediately to that tape or garage sort of sound, but I can do it. If that’s what the artists wants, that’s what the artists gets.”
Also hailing from Australia, producer and engineer Clare Reynolds – AKA Lollies – came to Nashville via LA, where she was signed as a songwriter for hip-hop producer Timbaland’s company. She essentially taught herself production and engineering on the job. “I was in a lot of big studios with big producers over those three years. It was really intense, I was almost always feeling out of my element, but I learned a lot. I would be writing the song, but also watching the others work, asking questions like, ‘Why are you using that mic?’ ‘How are you getting that sound?’ And trying to absorb everything they were doing.”
In Los Angeles, Reynolds tells me, she learned how to enter a room like a man: “I was with so many different, very big personalities that were at the top of their game and their egos were massive. They were just hyped … and if you want to be respected, you can’t go in tentative, you can’t code yourself as female. You have to act how they act, which is to say, you can’t care if other people like you. I would have this attitude like, ‘We don’t need to be friends, but we’re gonna write the best song ever.’”
Reynolds says that she will always love writing songs, but at least for now, production and engineering have taken a hold on her. “I will be forever learning,” she says, “But I do think that my experience with writing helps me approach the audio side from a very musical and song-based perspective.”
Engineer and producer Diana Walsh echoed Reynold’s sentiment about the typical energy in a recording studio. “With women being so critically underrepresented in these technical roles, it can sometimes take a minute for the gender biases in the room to dissipate,” she told me. “My focus is always on doing great work, and treating everyone in the room with the same respect I expect in return.”
Growing up in Houston, Texas, Walsh played guitar, but was always more interested in how she could record her guitar than how she could perform with it. Her mom bought her very first Shure SM57 microphone, which still gets used today in her sessions.
Walsh recorded her own music at home before heading to Belmont University to study music business, with an emphasis on production. While in school she started freelance recording for friends and classmates and after graduating, she began working at the historic RCA Studio B, where she is now the Studio Manager, as well as maintaining a busy freelance engineering schedule.
Her engineering and production credits include Matchbox 20, Amanda Shires, JD McPherson, and Sister Sadie. Walsh believes that representation is key for getting more women into the studio: “Working at RCA B, I have the opportunity to talk to a lot of school groups. After our sessions, I often speak with the students and ask about their goals for their future in music. Through these conversations, I’ve been thrilled to hear that more and more young women are taking an interest in engineering/producing.”
Throughout my conversations with each of these women, one point they all emphasized was the importance of staying focused on making great work in the face of difficult environments. “Nobody can argue with good work,” they each told me in their own way. And as we continue to see beautiful records being made by women, I have to agree.
Photo Credit: Alison Brown by Russ Harrington; Shani Gandhi by Joshua Black Wilkins.
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