With joy, gratitude, and undeniable talent, composer and innovative guitarist Yasmin Williams shines in her first official NPR Tiny Desk Concert – and we can’t stop watching! Flanked by a crew of seven musical collaborators – including old-time music powerhouses Tatiana Hargreaves and Allison de Groot – Williams shares four original songs, “Hummingbird,” “Sisters,” “Guitka,” and “Restless Heart.” While the 23-minute performance is firmly rooted in Williams’ characteristic style, her songs transcend easy genre labels, inhabiting a musical atmosphere of their own. What results is a collection of thoughtful, intricate, and heart-led songs that bring the listener firmly and gently into the present moment.
Starting off with a decidedly bluegrass and old-time-inspired composition, “Hummingbird,” Williams is joined by Hargreaves and de Groot, who recorded and released the track together with Williams in 2024, ahead of the release of her third studio album, Acadia. Williams and her band then widen their reach, drawing on African folk music traditions and modern experimental and atmospheric soundscapes. The instrumental lineup is impressively wide for such a brief performance, featuring a kalimba taped to the top of Williams’ guitar (that she plays with one hand while playing the guitar with the other), a 10-foot-wide marimba, multiple violins and violas, a djembe, tap shoes, and more.
If you’re new to the world of Yasmin Williams, this video is the perfect place to start – and you can continue exploring with our recent Artist of the Month coverage from October of last year. (Find additional BGS content on Williams below.) Her performance is meditative, emotive, and soothing, but it’s also energizing and inspiring. In this way, Williams has a knack for duality. Her songs are both intricate and subtle. They’re complex without feeling math-y or inaccessible. Focusing in on her fingerstyle and tapping techniques, her technical skill is obvious. She’s deliberate, precise, and truly a master of her craft. But there’s also incredible ease in the way Williams plays. She’s joyful and present, embodying a wholesome “just-happy-to-be-here” energy. At just 28 years old, her immense skill is perfectly balanced with a sense of comfort and familiarity, making this performance a gift to behold.
While this is Yasmin Williams’ first official Tiny Desk Concert shot on-site at NPR’s headquarters in Washington, D.C., it’s not her first foray into the world of NPR Music. She’s been orbiting the legendary “tiny” desk (which she humorously admits feeling disappointed isn’t actually that tiny) for years. In 2018, Williams submitted a video of her song “Guitka” to the NPR Tiny Desk Contest. A year later, she was featured by NPR Music’s Night Owl series. Then in 2021, she landed her first Tiny Desk spot through NPR’s Tiny Desk (Home) Concert series. But as Williams shares, none of that compared to the feeling of finally getting to sit behind that actually-pretty-big desk. We’re so glad she made it.
Editor’s Note: Each issue of Good Country, our co-founder Ed Helms will share a handful of good country artists, albums, and songs direct from his own earphones in Ed’s Picks.
Sabrina Carpenter
Stop everything!! Sabrina Carpenter’s deluxe edition of Short n’ Sweet released today, featuring Dolly Parton herself on a new version of “Please Please Please” – and, thank you!
Olivia Ellen Lloyd
An honest, down to earth country singer-songwriter from West Virginia, the self-sufficient Olivia Ellen Lloyd will release her lovely new honky-tonkin’ album, Do It Myself, in March.
Kacey Musgraves
“The Architect” as Best Country Song? Another one the GRAMMYs got right this year. Even if you never stopped listening, it’s the perfect time to return to this Good Country track.
Indie folk with string band bones from Montana (via Nashville), we’re excited for TopHouse’s new EP, Practice – and that they’ll play our stage at Bourbon & Beyond later this year.
Cristina Vane
Hundreds of thousands of fans adore the blues, bluegrass, Americana, and country combinations of Cristina Vane and her slide guitar. Her latest, Hear My Call, is out next week.
Sunny War
Our BGS Artist of the Month, Sunny War brings together fingerpicking, blues, punk – and so much more. Her newest, Armageddon in a Summer Dress, is timely, fierce, and excellent.
Dive into our Artist of the Month coverage on BGS.
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Photo Credits: Sabrina Carpenter, Short n’ Sweet; Olivia Ellen Lloyd by Aaron May; Kacey Musgraves by Kelly Christine Sutton; TopHouse courtesy of the artist; Cristina Vane courtesy of the artist; Sunny War by Joshua Black Wilkins.
In 2022, punk-blues innovator Sunny War moved into her late father’s house in Chattanooga, Tennessee, and began making repairs. There was no heat that first winter and the house needed a full electrical rewiring. By winter 2023, she had the money to heat the place, but as the temperature rose each night, Sunny felt a strange impulse to patrol the house in the dark, swinging her grandfather’s machete at the ghosts inhabiting the top floor.
At the start of our Zoom call interview in January, Sunny recounts the bizarre magical realism of the weeks she spent living with an undiscovered gas leak. I ask enough follow-up questions to be reassured that my friend is not still being fumigated in her own home before I allow myself to belly laugh. “I have to fix everything,” she sighs.
Sunny goes on to explain that by the time the city discovered and fixed the problem, the mood had already been set for her forthcoming album, Armageddon in a Summer Dress. I would describe the results as psychedelic and subtly dangerous.
My friend Sunny can be a little hard to read, a fact which she mentions at one point during our call. We first met at Americanafest in 2019. It was my second year traveling from New York to Tennessee for the annual roots music conference and festival. That summer I had made up my mind to bring Black artists together during the festival for our own unofficial day party. I booked Dee’s Country Cocktail Lounge, cross-referenced names on the festival poster with Google image searches, and sent out a few invitations. Sunny agreed to perform, as did Tré Burt and Milwaukee folk duo Nickel & Rose (featuring Carl Nichols, the artist soon to become Buffalo Nichols). One after another we played our songs then stepped out onto the Madison, Tennessee, porch, most of us meeting for the first time. It was the greatest number of Black people I had ever been around in a professional space since releasing my debut album in 2017.
It was clear to me even then that Sunny was a star. Carl, Tré, and I were on ascendant career arcs of our own, but Sunny was out ahead somehow. She was already well known in songwriter circles for her inimitable movements on the guitar and for her punk rock roots, but it was the intensity of her stage presence that stood out to me most on that first meeting. I watched her suck in the air and light around her as she sang, quietly commanding the audience’s attention. Songs like “Drugs Are Bad” and “Shell” became spells when sung in War’s almost-effortless, warmly breathy style. She appeared peaceful in her own creative world amidst the restless energy of the festival.
2019 was also the year that Sunny founded the downtown Los Angeles chapter of Food Not Bombs, a national network of community groups addressing hunger. In interviews about the movement she was candid about having experienced houselessness herself and how she noticed the disproportionate presence of veterans on the street. She organized weekly meetups in which volunteers made meals and shared them, potluck-style, with their unhoused neighbors on skid row. When COVID hit they switched to burritos and sack lunches. On “Deployed and Destroyed,” one of the outstanding tracks from Sunny’s 2021 album, Simple Syrup, she invites her listener to spend three minutes and 54 seconds in the shoes of a 26-year-old unhoused veteran experiencing PTSD. When I listen to her sing “I still love you/ We’re still friends” I feel like I am sitting beside her. This is what Aristotle and contemporary Marxists call “praxis.”
Sunny is fearless on stage. Six years into our friendship I remain awed by the way in which she commands attention without ever seeming contained by it. Her presence has a kinetic power that you can more easily get lost in than describe. We met up in Chicago on a winter night in early 2023 when Sunny was on tour and I was in between tours. Both of us were depressed, I think. Wide, wet snowflakes were beginning to fall outside while we caught up over drinks. We bribed the DJ into letting us jump the line for karaoke and then launched into a formally unconventional performance of Destiny’s Child’s “Jumpin’ Jumpin’.” The mostly-white crowd of beer-drinking twenty-somethings were amused at first and then bored. I gave up. Sunny stayed the course, winning the audience over with mischief in her eyes.
Later that year Sunny released Anarchist Gospel on New West Records to well-deserved, unanimous acclaim. The album featured Americana heavy hitters Allison Russell, Dave Rawlings, and Chris Pierce. She also toured with Mitski, broadening her fandom to include more indie listeners. I cheered my friend from afar, mostly on Instagram, as her star continued to rise.
When I ask about her memories of that album cycle, Sunny enthusiastically recalls the younger audiences who discovered her music. She expresses gratitude that a 14-year-old at a Mitski concert, someone who “actually is into music for the first time in their life, in the way that you are when you hate your parents and all you have is music” would become a fan. A lot of journalists described her as an “emerging” artist or a songwriter soon to be one of the most beloved in Americana. But for those of us on the fringes of the format, Sunny had been the best around for a minute and the momentum of her career spoke for itself.
Sunny’s latest album, Armageddon In A Summer Dress, comes out on February 21. I ask her to describe the new record in her own words. “Silly,” she responds. I ask if there is a genre descriptor for her music in general. She says, “No.” I am going to follow the artist’s lead and not do her album the disservice of describing it too much. I will say that Armageddon In A Summer Dress is her seventh full-length effort and contains her most inspired vocal performances yet – and some of her finest lyrics.
There is a haze hovering in the top layers of some of these tunes. The winding guitar melodies often weave themselves into the vocal lines, but sometimes they go their own way. I ask her if audiences are reacting to the Black anarchist content of her songs differently than they did the last time she released a folk album with transparently leftist politics. “I don’t feel like people pay that much attention to my lyrics,” she responds. Her primary musical concern, she reflects, is playing the guitar. And in any case, the best way to metabolize these songs is by listening to them repeatedly.
Sunny, Carl, Tré, and I have remained loosely intertwined in the years since that first Americana kickback. We have toured together. We run into each other at festivals and in thrift shops. Tré and Sunny were roommates for a time and in the summertime can be seen riding bikes like cousins in Sunny’s recent music video for “Scornful Heart.” I interview my friends periodically.
We all continue to embody aspects of the blues tradition while resisting categorization. Sunny continues moving patiently through her own cycles of living, transforming, creating in darkness, and then telling the story. She leaps unexpectedly from now to the future and then doubles back to sample tradition, inviting you to keep up. Her lyrics are disarmingly empathetic. Like all great artists, Sunny moves in her own time, less concerned with debating the canon than she is with creating the future. She looks back on the nights she hunted ghosts with her grandfather’s machete joking, “That wasn’t me!”
There is great integrity in Sunny’s storytelling, which means that no matter how long it has been since we last spoke, she will catch me up quickly when we meet again. I ask her who the narrator of “No One Calls Me Baby” is, trying to signal that I am a feminist who recognizes women writers as authors beyond the world of autobiography. But she quickly tells me that the narrator is her and fills me in on the past few months of her life. She has been single for over a year, and has been learning to enjoy the alone time in a house she owns. We commiserate about being single, but we are both leaned back by this point, looking down on loneliness together. “No one calls me baby anymore/ I hold my own hand now…”
One of my favorite things about Sunny is that whether she’s playing a dive bar or a sold-out theater, everyone walks away dazzled. She is just as warm and entertaining sitting across from you in her home. She accompanies herself.
Sunny War has done it again. Her brand new album, Armageddon in a Summer Dress (out February 21 via New West Records), is yet another anarcho-punk-roots masterpiece in her already deep-and-wide catalog of superlative recordings. The project builds on the sonic and rhetorical universe of her critically acclaimed and triumphantly received 2023 release, Anarchist Gospel, further expanding her charming, down-to-earth doctrine of mutual aid, community, and truly radical ideas – musically, and otherwise – exactly when we need them most.
That fact – the apropos timing of this collection of songs and their release – feels most striking because this music wasn’t written expressly to be a response to the current critical mass of fascism, oligarchy, and attacks on human rights in our country and around the world. Instead, the messages and morals in these songs are well-placed, not as slapdash reactions to the current political discourse or as activist-branded cash grabs in a terrifying societal moment, but by focusing on the real day-to-day implications of such imperialism as evidenced within War’s own life and her own inner circle.
On Armageddon’s opening track, “One Way Train,” she sings:
When there’s no one left to use And no police or state And the fascists and the classists All evaporate Won’t you meet me on the outskirts Of my left brain Close your eyes and take a ride On a one way train
This album is exactly such a refuge on par with the singer’s “left brain” – and stemming directly from it! – in “One Way Train.” Armageddon is a respite from the noise of the news cycle and the sensationalism of consumerist media that needs not deny the realities we all witness and live through in order to be a resting place. This isn’t toxic positivity or “joy” and “hope” as cudgels to smack down criticism of inequalities, corruption, and ruling classes, thereby reinforcing the status quo. The songs of Armageddon in a Summer Dress do feel hopeful– but because they acknowledge and grapple with these issues, instead of willing them away under the rug or into hiding.
The deft and artful positioning of these incisive songs is directly tied to the ways anarchy, mutual aid, and solidarity have been woven into War’s life as an artist – and as a human, since even before she picked up the guitar. These are embodied, real concepts to Sunny, not just intellectual ideas and hypotheticals.
Punk and blues, folk and grunge ooze out of songs ripe for protest and resistance, but never packaged in a pink crocheted pussy cat hat or internet-ready bumper sticker quips. Sunny War knows the violence and tyranny we all face – she has faced it her entire life – and gives it the treatment it deserves, but without ever preaching or finger-wagging. The beliefs evident in Armageddon in a Summer Dress are never contingent on which team, “red or blue,” holds the power. Rather, the hope and tenacity in these songs feels derived from an intrinsic understanding that it’s always been “the many versus the few” and “the powerless versus the powerful” where the battle lines are drawn, instead.
“Walking Contradiction” – which features punk icon Steve Ignorant – is searing in its indictment of toothless neoliberalism having landed us in this exact political and social scenario:
…While the war pigs killed more kids today Picket signs were made 6,000 miles away And all the lefties and the liberals were marching so you know Just because they pay their taxes doesn’t mean that they don’t know All the pigs and the big wigs foaming at the mouth Look down at us laughing like we’ll never figure out All the war outside starts here at home If they didn’t have our money they’d be fighting it alone Doesn’t matter what your silly little signs have to say ‘Cause the genocide is funded by the taxes that you pay
Stopping and inhabiting this song, one of the project’s singles, and its message is illuminating. Especially when you realize it was written under the prior administration, but applies to the current one as well. And, perhaps, to every other presidential administration in U.S. history.
Armageddon in a Summer Dress still feels light and rewarding, though. It’s flowing and intuitive, and decidedly charming, even with these stark messages. Because, like most of Sunny War’s creative output, it actually drives to the heart of the issues we all turn over in our minds and on our screens each day, rather than tilting at superficial, sensational windmills that end up reinforcing our oligarchic status quo.
Of course, this album is not solely political and anarchic and intellectual. In fact, it’s not attempting to be cerebral and be-monocled at all. These are songs of love, of grief, of being an individual with a collective mindset in an individualist world with collective blindness.
There are songs of introspection, of perception, of self growth, of regression. Each feels fully realized in production, lush and deep. But there, in the gaps, in the bones of each track, are War’s signature fingerstyle licks, hooks, and turns of phrase on the guitar. She plays banjo throughout the project as well, and though the referenced genres evident on the project are endlessly rootsy, the blues and folk approach that charmed much of the bluegrass, folk, and Americana worlds previously serve a more subtle purpose here. War’s personality on her instruments is still prominent, and is ultimately successful playing more of a support role to the greater whole. Above all else, you can tell creating this album and these songs must have been so much fun to make.
Tré Burt, Valerie June, and John Doe – along with Ignorant – all guest on the record, which was produced by Andrija Tokic and recorded in Nashville, just up the highway from War’s current hometown of Chattanooga, Tennessee. Like Anarchist Gospel, seeing War’s community of collaborators grow and morph on the new project again speaks to the way this guitarist-songwriter-performer’s mission is an active, constructive one. It’s never merely a mantra hung on the wall to be admired from afar.
As we all face an ongoing apocalypse, as we each reckon with the indisputable fact that we are already living in dystopia – and have been – Armageddon in a Summer Dress is the perfect album to bring along with us. Dancing and flowing and twirling through the end of the world is certainly not a winning strategy, but dancing, marching, caring for one another, and lifting each other up despite Armageddon and imperialism might just do the trick.
She perhaps encapsulates this feeling best alongside wailing organ on “Bad Times:”
Had nothing so I had to borrow What I owe’s gonna double tomorrow Maybe now or in an hour or so I’m gonna have to let everything go
So long room and board And all the other things I can’t afford You’re overrated anyway I’ll be good soon as you Bad times stay away Bad times stay away Bad times stay away Bad times stay away…
This affirmation is not the end game, it is merely the beginning. If we take Sunny War’s ideals to heart, if we sing along at the top of our lungs, if we do mutual aid on a daily basis, if we take each moment, one individual second at a time– we, too, can navigate through Armageddon in a Summer Dress, emerging on the other side in a better, more just, more sunny world.
Sunny War is our Artist of the Month. Check out our exclusive interview with Sunny by her friend and peer Lizzie No here. Make sure to save our Essential Sunny War Playlist below while we gear up for the new album on February 21. Plus, follow BGS on social media as we dip back into our archives every day for all things Sunny during the entire month of February.
Bluegrass. Newgrass. Chambergrass. Jamgrass. Thrashgrass. So many sub-genres, so little time. For guitarist Jordan Tice – solo artist and longtime member of Nashville-based Hawktail – there’s no time at all, because labels don’t define art and they don’t factor into his creative process.
“I don’t necessarily think about it,” he says. “I mostly do what I feel like doing and incorporate sounds that feel relevant, that I have a personal connection to and an excitement to explore, and the ability to replicate and share. I’d like to think that personality can unite disparate things if the heart is pure.”
Tice weaves a thread of musical connectivity on his new release, Badlettsville. The EP features two covers, Bob Dylan’s “Tryin’ to Get to Heaven” and Randy Newman’s “Dayton, Ohio – 1903,” as well as the originals “Mean Old World” and the instrumental title track. The four are staples of his live shows, but only now have they been committed to recordings.
“They’re all fundamental to my show and are requested as much as my other songs, but they didn’t have a place on either the last record or the next one, so they belonged in Badlettsville,” he says. “They fit together sonically as well. As soon as we got those four things down, I was like, ‘This is something.’”
Ever busy, Tice isn’t slowing down in 2025, although the emphasis is shifting somewhat. After two hectic years, Hawktail is dialing back a bit on gigging and Tice is devoting time to another solo album. “Hawktail has an EP in the can that will hopefully get out sometime soon,” he says. “We’re doing a few festival gigs but taking a much lighter year. I’m doing some dates in support of [Badlettsville], in addition to festivals with Hawktail. But I’m trying to take a little bit of a step back to focus on making this new record.”
Your website bio begins, “Jordan Tice is a musical seeker of the most dedicated sort.” What does the term “musical seeker” mean to you?
Jordan Tice: I’m always exploring my own interests and creativity, and also exploring the music that I do play, the roots of that. I want to understand myself and everything I do, and everything that came before me, better.
Part of the art of music is communicating to anybody, not particularly musicians. The more you understand about music in general, the more you understand what works and what doesn’t. The more you do it, get out there, and play and make records, the more you understand how things register and land with people – different types of thoughts and sentiments, things like that. Music is the art of sculpting sound within a given amount of time for someone who’s giving you their ear.
How has that manifested itself over the course of your solo albums and Hawktail?
With everything you do, there’s something you want to repeat about it, but there’s also things you want to do differently. I mostly grew up writing instrumental music and Hawktail is entirely instrumental. Long about 2015 or 2016, I started writing songs like crazy, just out of nowhere, and I realized I needed an outlet for that. But the instrumental stuff is still near and dear. Keeping a foot in both doors allows me to scratch this itch and this love for both of these things I do.
Did moving to Nashville have something to do with your songwriting?
I think so. I can’t provide concrete evidence, but the coincidence is too great – the fact that I started writing songs right when I moved to Nashville. So the answer is yes, but I couldn’t tell you exactly how. I also started hanging out with a lot more songwriters. My community was more instrumental-based in Boston and New York, where I lived before, so there’s definitely the influence of some new friends I made upon moving down here.
You’ve been playing guitar since you were 12. Does it sometimes feel the same today as it did then?
Yeah. I actually started taking lessons again, from a classical guitar teacher, just because I have some time off the road this winter. There’s things I wanted to improve and I decided I needed some help. I’m always trying to improve, always listening to things, and even in the music I love, there’s still the same sense of mystery of, “How did they do that?” The breadth of everything you’re aware of and assimilated expands, but at the same time it’s the same old [thing].
What led you to classical training?
We’re not doing classical music per se, I should clarify. But a lot of the things I was hoping to work on were technical-based, and classical guitar has such a codified, rigorous, technical study and a pedagogy related to technique in a way that other genres don’t necessarily have.
I’ve studied a lot of facets of music, but I’m not formally trained by any stretch. I took some jazz guitar lessons here and there, and I studied composition, but in terms of guitar I’ve never had formal technical training. I felt I was up against some roadblocks and walls with my playing and decided I needed the help of an expert, a teacher. This [teacher] came strongly recommended from my friend Chris Eldridge from Punch Brothers, and it’s been rewarding to expand the technical facility side of things.
You played a Preston Thompson Brazilian Rosewood and your main guitar, a Collings, on Badlettsville. Tell us about those guitars.
I was at Laurie Lewis’s house in Berkeley with Brittany [Haas] from Hawktail. We were in town playing and we were helping her move some furniture. She had this Preston Thompson in the corner that she was trying to sell and I was interested. It’s from 2016. She hand-selected the cut of Brazilian rosewood, a beautiful piece of wood, and had them make it with this wood that she had sourced. I absolutely love it. It’s going to be my main touring guitar for my solo stuff coming up.
The Collings is a D1A mahogany dreadnought that I bought in 2014. It’s perfectly balanced. It almost sounds like an old guitar. The overtones are exactly right. I have a relationship with Collings, but I bought this one at The Music Emporium in Boston because I liked it so much. It’s been my main axe for the last ten years. It’s what I play in Hawktail and what I recorded my last solo record on.
I brought both of those guitars to the studio, in addition to this new Yamaha FG Indian rosewood guitar that I’ve been working with them for the last couple years to promote and develop. They’re great guitars, and it was a fun process getting to work with them and help get the word out. They’re really fantastic.
How do your picking styles with Hawktail, on your solo work, and with other artists come together to create your style?
I write a lot of music, so my identity as a writer maybe puts those things in the same world. So I would say that it’s filtered through the same mind, and also the conceit is that it’s my music. Hawktail is collaborative, obviously, but it’s part of the same musical world.
I’ve always looked up to Norman Blake and Doc Watson. Norman Blake does a lot of different things, but you don’t really think about it. He plays fingerstyle, flatpicking, traditional music, writes his own music, but it all makes sense in the context of his world. I’ve always admired that as an archetype for a folk musician. He’s himself first. He’s not a historian. He picks and chooses things that work in his musical world, as opposed to something outside of himself. He’s an artist that happens to combine all these folk music techniques and sources into something that’s his own.
You’re thought of primarily as an acoustic player, but you also play electric guitar. Which ones?
I grew up playing rock and roll, in addition to bluegrass and things like that. My first music was the Allman Brothers. I got together with this guy in my church and he showed me the twin lead thing. We’d learn the two leads and then we’d switch. That music is near and dear to me – Jimi Hendrix, the Allman Brothers. So I’ve always played a little electric too. I think it’s going to work its way into the next album.
My main electric is an American Standard Telecaster that I swapped out some of the pickups and modified a little bit. I put a higher-output Seymour Duncan pickup in the neck position and I made it a four-way switch, so you have the humbucker setting in addition to the normal three settings.
Also I have a Yamaha Revstar Professional that they just sent that I’ve been having fun with as well.
What do acoustic and electric guitar each bring out in your playing?
An electric allows you the opportunity to fill up a room with less effort. You can saturate a room with sounds with less notes, with less physical effort. An acoustic is a parlor instrument. It’s meant to be played in a small room with your head right up against it. As soon as you stop making noises with your hands, the noise goes away. With electric, a lot of times less is much more, and with acoustic, a medium amount is a medium amount.
With this new record, I’m going to do it with drums, so I’ve been messing around with pickups on electrics and … I don’t want to say effects, but ways to expand the breadth of the sound, get a little bit of that electric expanse, but still treating it like it’s an acoustic. That’s been a fun and interesting pursuit.
How does collaborating with other musicians push you musically?
I have a little home studio setup, but I love going to the studio. I love there being, “This is the time that we’re making the record. What happens, happens.” I think that urgency puts you into a superpower mode. Also the camaraderie. There is truly no substitute for live chemistry. AI can try all it wants, but it will never get it. The communication and sound that happens … there’s so much subconscious and physical factors that are changing constantly. You can’t substitute it.
I love the element of not trying to perfect things, of a record being a snapshot in time. Treating it that way helps you bring your A-game because it’s, “I need to be able to do this at any given time.” It makes you focus on delivering a performance, crossing all your T’s and dotting your I’s, so that it’s all there when it’s time to push “play,” or when it’s time to play with other people, or time to get in front of people.
What snapshot does Badlettsville represent?
The tunes weren’t created or arranged with the idea that they’d be on a record, so in some ways it’s like a snapshot of the live show I’ve been doing over the last couple of years. It’s really organic in that regard.
All these arrangements came about from playing live, specifically with Paul Kowert and Patrick M’Gonigle. Patrick’s been playing a lot of shows with me, and Paul is my BFF partner in crime in Hawktail and beyond, so it represents my relationship with those two guys in a big way.
Also my interests, the fact that there’s cover songs by Randy Newman and Bob Dylan. If I had to pick my two favorite songwriters, it would be them. It’s a snapshot in time of the manner in which I’m playing and thinking about music and the people I’m doing it with right now.
In a black ruffled shirt on a brightly colored stage, Tommy Emmanuel sits with his guitar and, like always, amazes the audience with his music. His latest video, “Gdansk/Tall Fiddler (Live at The Sydney Opera House)” is an upbeat and beautiful showcase of his songs that demonstrates the excitement and ease Emmanuel brings to his music. The medley is a single from his forthcoming album, Live at the Sydney Opera House, out March 21.
The clip starts off with a new original, “Gdansk,” named after Gdansk, Poland, where Emmanuel wrote the tune. It’s soft yet energetic, emulating the feeling of calm ocean waves on a sunny day that at the same time brings energy and joy to the music. The peaceful and uplifting melody might make you want to get up and dance.
“Gdansk” then beautifully leads into another tune of Emmanuel’s entitled “Tall Fiddler,” a number off Emmanuel’s 2006 release Endless Road that was inspired by the great fiddler Byron Berline. With fast licks and a rock and roll feel, he effortlessly transitions between a bluegrass fiddle tune and a heavy, rocking vibe.
It’s easy to see the excitement Emmanuel brings to playing and performing. The way he just “goes for it” is utterly inspiring – you can see how the music takes over him as he becomes the vessel that brings it into fruition.
Joy Clark and Ani DiFranco connected over something unexpected: a Christmas song. Slated to perform at the same benefit show in 2022, the two singer-songwriter-guitarists were grouped to take the stage together and needed a holiday tune, ideally an original one. Clark’s “Gumbo Christmas” made it to DiFranco before the show, and the legendary artist and founder of Righteous Babe Records heard a hit. Once the pair synced up, they felt an instant musical kinship, and it wouldn’t be long before DiFranco signed Clark to her label.
Last October, Clark released her critically acclaimed debut album, Tell It to the Wind. Informed by her experience as a side player and imbued with a deep reverence for her craft as a solo artist, the record was one of 2024’s finest releases, announcing Clark as an artist with a keen sense of who she is and what she wants to create. The album sonically pulls from Clark’s roots as a Louisiana native and thematically from her experiences as a Black and queer woman making her way through the world. Highlights include “Lesson,” a bluesy, groovy reminder to keep your head up in the face of struggle, and the record’s vulnerable closing title track.
Before the holiday break, BGS caught up with DiFranco and Clark over Zoom to chat about Clark’s signing to Righteous Babe, her album Tell It to the Wind, and what she and DiFranco admire most in one another – as they prepare to hit the road together on tour next month.
Let’s start by having you share how you met and what drew you to one another.
Joy Clark: Well, it started with a Christmas song. It was 2022, and we were both on a Christmas show. There was a big lineup, with Big Freedia, John Goodman, and a lot of other people. So, they tried to group the performers together and I got grouped with Ani and Dayna Kurtz, and I happen to have a Christmas song called “Gumbo Christmas.” My agent contacted me and said, “Hey, can you make a recording of your song and send it to Ani?” He sent it to Ani and I heard back that it was a hit. She liked the song. So, they grouped us together and we performed it.
Ani DiFranco: It’s a total hit, this song. I mean, I don’t understand why people are not holding hands all over America singing this song right now.
JC: I wrote about my grandmother making gumbo every Christmas, it got to Ani, and I think that’s how I got on the radar.
AD: From my perspective, I’m asked to do a benefit and it’s just tons of New Orleans usual suspects involved, like she said. Then, I found out a little later everybody had to play Christmas songs for this thing. I was thinking I’d just show up and play a song or two of my own. I’m like, “Oh, man, Christmas. What the hell?” So, I’m combing through Christmas songs, and I’m like, “I don’t know.” And then I thought, “Oh, I’ll just write one. I’ll write a Christmas song.” I pounded my head against that wall for a few days and discovered that it’s harder than you think to write a Christmas song that anybody ever wants to hear.
Finally, somebody rescued me by saying, “Well, you know, Joy’s got a Christmas song. Maybe you could sing with Joy Clark.” And in comes this little video of Joy singing. I was like, “Oh, my God, that’s the best. That’s the best.” Now I know how hard it is to write a Christmas song, so my respect for this woman is already right up here for making this sweet, soulful Christmas song. And then [Joy] came and recorded it.
You don’t hear many artists getting signed off a Christmas song or even having that be their entry point to meeting their eventual label. That’s a great story.
AD: It was also just hooking up, you know, in person, doing a little rehearsal at Joy’s house, and then going and doing the gig. We got to hang out. It’s not just like I heard the song somewhere. I got to see firsthand that Joy can play and sing her ass off and was an artist in the world doing her thing. I always say that we’re not really a label with tons of resources that can create something out of nothing, or market somebody into existence or something. But what we can do is support working artists and try to get behind them and help facilitate what they’re already doing.
JC: I think that’s the cool part, because I’ve been a working musician for a long time. And not just being Joy Clark, just writing my songs and performing – I played in a lot of different bands, playing guitar, singing harmony. … I’ve really just been working, been doing the thing. I played as a side person for a long time, which is how you learn. That’s how you learn to just be a musician. I feel like that’s been a gift for me. So, now to be able to just to step out up front and write and put out music, I feel pretty lucky. But it also feels really right.
It sounds like you came into the picture with a fully realized sense of who you are and the kind of music you make and what you want to do. And it sounds like the label is a great home for artists like that, who already have strong senses of self and don’t necessarily need, like you mentioned, Ani, a lot of development and marketing.
AD: Certainly at Righteous Babe, you’re not going to have some pencil pusher telling you what you should do with your songs. The thing about an artist-run label is the artist has to follow their heart. That much is clear at Righteous Babe.
Joy, I’m going back to what you were saying a moment ago about being a side player and the opportunities that provides – or sometimes forces – for you to adapt and learn and be able to do things on the fly. How do you feel that those experiences have shaped your solo work?
JC: There’s pressure in it, but then there’s not really pressure, too, because it’s not about me. I think it allows me to just be and not think about, “What do I look like?” or “How do I feel about this certain thing?” It’s giving somebody else space to do their thing. And that gave me a lot of confidence, actually. It gave me a lot of freedom. … I think that helped me step into my work, because when you do need people, when you do need support, you get both sides of it. I think it’s made me more compassionate. I hope I’m not an ass. I don’t think I’m an asshole. [Laughs] I understand what it is to support somebody’s work.
AD: I can really relate, too. I remember the first time I worked on somebody else’s record that wasn’t my shit, and I was like, “Whoa. This is all the fun of making music without the crushing emotional baggage of exposing your guts and putting yourself up for judgment.” So, I completely hear what you’re saying about how it’s a different experience to make music when you’re not on the hot seat, when it’s not you being judged. I love working on other people’s music for exactly that reason. It’s so freeing emotionally. … And now we’re about to go out to make some live music together. That will be fun times.
I wanted to ask about that. As you get ready to hit the road together, is there anything you can share about your plans, or what you’re looking forward to, in particular, about getting to share a bill with one another?
AD: Another thing that is always in the back of my mind with Righteous Babe, if we’re considering releasing a record, is whether this is an artist we could have the means to help. Somebody came to us with a very different genre of music recently and it was a super cool record, but I just thought, “I don’t know how to get to the right audience and get this project where it needs to go.” But from the minute I met Joy and saw her play and interact with an audience, I thought to myself, “My audience will love this person.” So, that’s always in the back of my mind, like, if we put out a record on Righteous Babe, could we do shows together? That’s a really easy way for me to assemble a bunch of people and then point, “Look at her. Check this out.” I just know that they’ll eat you up, Joy. And I haven’t told you yet, but I was hoping to ask you if we could play a song or two together.
JC: Of course! Just let me know what you want. I’ve already been listening. You know it.
AD: I’ll text them to you.
JC: One thing I’m looking forward to is being on a bus. My dates have been fly, pick up a car, then drive, you know? And it’s not like I have a right hand. It’s me and my guitar, driving. When I’m driving, I can’t do anything.
AD: And it’s exhausting. Most of your energy is zapped when you get to the gig.
JC: Yeah, it’s like, “Can I just sit in the green room? Can I just recover from that?” I’m looking forward to having that tour experience of being on a bus and chatting it up and maybe even writing. We’ll see if I can actually write on the road.
AD: Yeah, you need a certain amount of space just to do that, like your own dressing room and your own hotel room. It’s so hard when you’re just out there driving around, doing all the things. Funnily enough, Joy and I were just at another benefit the other night, both playing a tribute to Irma Thomas, singing Irma Thomas songs and benefiting the New Orleans Musicians’ Clinic. We were joking and I was like, “You got to be careful because once you get on that bus, it’s so hard to get off.”
JC: I can feel that coming. I’m looking forward, too, because I’ve really only seen Ani perform once, at French Quarter Fest in 2023. Now, I get to check out the show night after night.
Ani, you mentioned a moment ago that feeling of knowing that your audience will love Joy’s music. I see a lot of connection points in what both of you do. There’s a lot of vulnerability there, for one – I think you described it as “exposing your guts” earlier, Ani, and that feels true for both of you, at least from my perspective as a listener. What points of connection do you see in one another’s music?
JC: I think Ani is a badass guitarist. I respect that, because it takes a lot to be able to play with the band and then to just be a person on stage with a guitar. I think I really connect with that fingerstyle picking. I prefer fingerstyle because it gives you a lot of different textures and it gives you different choices. Instead of strum – a strum is great, it’s just when you can pick, there are these other things happening. These little flavors and lines that I connect with, because that’s the type of player I am. I don’t have the picks on my fingers, it’s just my fingers. But I think that’s how I connect [to the instrument].
AD: Ditto for me. Keep those naked fingers, because it sounds so much better. I put on these plastic nails, but that’s just because I get so violent with my guitar and I bloody myself if I don’t have them. But the sound is so, so great with the real finger and the real nail. I’m really more of a rhythm player, and I just sort of play by ear, but you can play solos. You know what key we’re in and what the notes are supposed to go with that – all the things that I don’t actually freaking know. [Laughs]
I’m just super impressed with anybody who can legitimately play guitar like you do. There’s knowing how to play or knowing how to sing or this or that, and then there’s knowing how to stand there alone on stage and hold an audience. And Joy can do that, too.
I’m glad y’all brought up each other’s guitar playing, because there’s clearly so much passion and care there for both of you. And I don’t think we ask musicians about their instruments enough. People ask a lot of questions about songwriting and lyrics but not so much about, say, devising chord progressions. How does incorporating guitar into your songs work for each of you?
JC: It’s always different. When I write, there is no one way that it comes. But there is a feeling. There are colors that appear. Sometimes, there are sounds that come out. But one thing that I can say, for me, is that [writing] happens simultaneously with messing around on a guitar. I often sing as I play. I’m not usually writing. I do write, but the core of it is a feeling. If it’s something sentimental, then sentimental lines appear. Sometimes it happens if I’m driving, then I pick up my phone and I hum, and then when I pick up the guitar, I’m flowing. There’s an improvisation that happens and it’s a little bit mysterious. I don’t really understand it. It’s just mystery. But I love chords and I love to pick out cool shit. Then, I just put words to the thing that I’m picking.
AD: I can basically relate to everything you’re saying. Same for me. It’s different all the time. There’s no, like, set process, of course, and each song happens in a different way. But generally, it’s just being able to hang out with your instrument and just be with your guitar, hang out, and process your feelings with it. I miss that myself in life these days. I’m older and at a different point in my road than Joy. And I, many moments, wish I could put myself back where you are, Joy, just embarking on something and being really focused and having that guitar by your side all the time. Now, my kids are in the way most of the time, you know? [Laughs] … But that’s really what it is, having a relationship with the guitar that deepens and deepens. The understanding between you and this instrument deepens, and the guitar starts finishing your sentences.
JC: You can find some really pretty jewels in something that didn’t really feel good [while] writing it. But I want something to grow on me. Maybe it doesn’t fit so perfectly, but in time, “Oh, yeah, that does make sense.”
AD: I feel like that’s what you want for other people, too. It’s not necessarily to always be making songs that are instantly like, “Oh, Skittles! It’s sweet and fruity.” But, something that, maybe, on repeated listens, it takes its time to get under somebody’s skin. Then it really lives there. … What I’ve learned over many years and many albums and hundreds of songs is that, even after you get back to your disillusionment or you sour on something that’s not new anymore, you just have to have faith that somebody out there in the world is still going to have that first experience that you had with it. Somebody is going to feel that way about it, even if it’s not you anymore.
That feels like a lovely place to wrap. Before we sign off, do you have any parting words for one another?
JC: I’m really freaking grateful. I’ve been doing my work and I feel pretty lucky that people want to hear what I have to say. And I feel really lucky to have an album out on Righteous Babe, on your label, Ani. I feel like it’s right. I just turned 40 a couple months ago, and I think it’s pretty fantastic to feel like I’ve just started.
AD: Well, I would say – in a way that’s not weird, in a way that [reflects] that we’re on the same level – that I’m proud of you. It makes me so happy to see you stepping into yourself and your music and stepping out there in the world. You’ve paid a lot of dues and you completely deserve this moment. I can’t wait to see what’s next.
Photo Credit: Joy Clark by Steve Rapport; Ani DiFranco by Shervin Lainez.
Music is all about moments. It’s a fact we tend to lose sight of, forest for the trees, despite the fact that music can only exist in this, the present moment. Each pluck of a string, each breath of a voice, each lick, hook, and improvisation – no matter how practiced or free – is but a mere moment.
As we all rewind the calendar year to relive the last twelve months and all of the turmoils and triumphs they held, we asked our BGS contributors to reflect on which musical moments they experienced this year that were most memorable, most moving, and most transportive. Which musical moment would you return to, if you could? Which musical moment returns to you, again and again and again?
Our year-end lists are not intended to center on superlatives or “bests;” we don’t so much care about what “should” or “shouldn’t” land in one of these collections. Curation of this sort is never truly objective, so why pretend it is? Instead, we hope our writers and our readers will be able to demonstrate and appreciate that music is never about measuring or comparison, metrics or accomplishments, accolades or awards. Music is about moments – and about wholly inhabiting those moments, together.
Below, our first-rate writers, thinkers, and contributors share the musical moments from 2024 that impacted them most. From Beyoncé galloping through our hearts with Cowboy Carter to intimate, people-first festivals like Laurel Cove Music Festival in Kentucky. There’s also music from harlequin creators like American Patchwork Quartet, Kaia Kater, and Rhiannon Giddens alongside memories of the late Dexter Romweber and the strength of mutual aid and community solidarity in Western North Carolina post-Hurricane Helene.
2024 held so many intricate, ineffable, one-of-a-kind moments, good, bad, ugly, and gorgeous. We hope you’ll take a second to recall your own most memorable musical moments of the year while we share ours – and while we all look forward to many more in the year to come.
August 20, 2024 – Chris Acker and Dylan Earl at Folk i Storgata, Oslo, Norway
Photo by Dana Yewbank taken at a show by Chris Acker and Dylan Earl at Folk i Storgata in Norway.
While this doesn’t quite fit any stereotypes about Scandinavia, black metal, or Viking-inspired neo-folk, Norway has a thriving Americana music scene that welcomes and celebrates even lesser-known American folk and country artists. Chris Acker and Dylan Earl are two of these undersung artists, both represented by Nick Shoulders’ record label Gar Hole Records out of Arkansas. This past summer, Acker, Earl, and I all coincidentally ended up in Oslo, Norway, at the same time, where the pair put on an intimate, inspiring, and tightly-packed show for a crowd of about 30 people in a tiny bar with pink walls. They bantered with the audience, backed each other up on a few songs, and even spontaneously formed an unrehearsed superband with the bar owner and their Norwegian opener – and they were damn good. Acker and Earl are both deeply thoughtful musicians who use their power and presence as men on stage to question the status quo of “good ol’ boy” country and stoic male musicality. Their candidness and subversive humor drew the room together that night with a sense of camaraderie, safety, and concentrated joy. – Dana Yewbank
Act Now! A Paperface Zine Benefit Tape for the Palestine Children’s Relief Fund
A harrowing statistic from the UN agency for Palestinian refugees (UNRWA) reports that as of March 2024, the number of children killed in Gaza over a mere five months (October 2023 to February 2024) surpassed the number of children killed in global conflict over the four years prior, combined (2019-2022). As of December 2024, we are a year and two months into the ceaseless genocide being waged against the innocent civilians of Palestine and the horrific violence only continues.
I salute everyone who has waged resistance against genocidal powers, be it contacting senators, galvanizing communities to action, participating in rallies, or, in this instance, artists and musicians who have used their platform as an act of protest. Paperface Zine, a blog that writes and interviews an eclectic mix of underground artists, spearheaded this collection of tunes in an effort to express solidarity with Palestine and raise funds towards the Palestine Children’s Relief Fund. This Benefit Tape is a shining example of how most any skill can be mobilized to support greater communities; creativity and care forever go hand in hand. – Oriana Mack
American Patchwork Quartet, American Patchwork Quartet
American Patchwork Quartet have pieced together one of the best albums this year. Don’t take our word for it: they’ve been nominated for a GRAMMY for Best Folk Album. That’s the moment we want to celebrate. With all due respect to the other nominees, it’s exciting to see a brand new project get recognized so quickly – particularly one that colors outside the lines like APQ. The quartet add a number of global influences to traditional American songs: a guitar solo here, a sitar there, and a fine sprinkling of tabla make the quartet live up to their name. Now, especially, we need statements that American traditions were born of a tapestry of European, African, and Indigenous cultures that continue to be built upon by everyone who chooses to make this place a part of their own quilts. – Rachel Cholst
September 26, 2024 – Asheville, North Carolina’s Music Scene and Hurricane Helene
On the night of September 26, Hurricane Helene ravaged Western North Carolina with unprecedented rainfall and flooding. What resulted was a tight-knit area completely decimated and utterly distraught by the destruction of numerous communities. The current death toll for the state sits at 103, with many others still missing.
Beyond the cultural, economic, and unbelievable physical devastation to Asheville and surrounding towns, the city’s vibrant and world-renowned live music scene was brought to its knees – a radio silence that lasted several weeks, with numerous unknowns lingering for certain storied venues. But, with great resolve and a steadfast attitude of helping your friends and neighbors, the vast music community in Asheville and greater WNC came together with countless benefit concerts and fundraiser album compilations (Caverns of Gold, Cardinals at the Window) — an effort that remains at the forefront of the region’s recovery that will take years, if not decades, to return to normalcy. – Garret K. Woodward
Beyoncé, “Jolene”
Country music is for everyone and there is something fascinating about an album which ends up in the territory between categories. Beyoncé is a great singer, and has been flirting with country for a very long time; she has the chops to sing “Jolene” better than Dolly. So, when she sings that she’s “still a Creole banjee bitch from Louisiana,” she is making a series of arguments: that country exists in response songs; that the other woman should be given the mic; that the landscape mirrors the territory; and that the gatekeepers should be torn down, like the walls of Jericho. – Steacy Easton
February 4, 2024 – Tracy Chapman & Luke Combs, “Fast Car”
Luke Combs released his version of Tracy Chapman’s “Fast Car” in 2023, but it was his performance with Chapman on the 2024 GRAMMY Awards primetime telecast that rocketed the song from country radio back into the mainstream zeitgeist. Where Combs’s recording highlighted the song’s working-class vibes, seeing him perform it alongside its (Black, queer, female) writer gave the song’s legacy even greater heft. “Fast Car” was always a song about women carrying more weight than any single human can; about the urgent, nagging desire to flee toxic cycles; about how fleeting freedom can sometimes feel. For better or worse, all these things became emblematic of 2024. – Kim Ruehl
Rhiannon Giddens
You would be hard-pressed to cite anyone in any genre who had more memorable musical moments in 2024 than the superb vocalist, composer, and instrumentalist Rhiannon Giddens. Her writing brilliance was showcased through the Silkroad Ensemble group and project. Her arrangements of folk songs were part of their landmark American Railroad tour program along with commissioned pieces from jazz artist Cécile McLorin Salvant and film composer Michael Abels, as well as fellow Silkroad artists Wu Man, Layale Chaker, Haruka Fujii, and Maeve Gilchrist. Giddens was featured on banjo and viola on the hit single “Texas Hold ‘Em,” part of Beyoncé’s huge Cowboy Carter LP. Giddens added another GRAMMY nomination for Best American Roots Performance with “The Ballad of Sally Anne” from the excellent compilation My Black Country: The Songs of Alice Randall, too. Hard to believe there’s any ground left to cover for the MacArthur Genius and Pulitzer Prize winner, but Rhiannon Giddens continues to stun and surprise audiences with everything she does. – Ron Wynn
November 14, 2024 – Zachariah Hickman’s Power Outage Party! at Club Passim, Cambridge, MA
Not sure how bassist and music director Zachariah Hickman (Josh Ritter, Ray Lamontagne, Barnstar!) pulls off his many acts of mischief, but the Power Outage Party! shows are the most creative, beautiful, and emotional musical experiences around. Presented in mid-November by Club Passim, the shows featured a collective of musicians (including members of Della Mae and Session Americana) and guests (this year including Taylor Ashton, Mark Erelli, and Kris Delmhorst) performing without any power in the historic 100-seat club in Harvard Square. The band is lit with camping lanterns and tea lights. The audience is shoehorned in so tight (I was nearly sitting on the cello players’ lap) that you can’t help but feel a part of a very special community. Every time I go, I carry the experience and inspiration with me as we all work through the darkest part of the year. – Cindy Howes
February 24, 2024 – Kaia Kater, “In Montreal” at Folk Alliance International
One of my favorite and most memorable musical moments of the year occurred at Folk Alliance International, where Kaia Kater and her band performed tracks from her brand new album, Strange Medicine, at BGS’s private showcase. In a small hotel room with a handful of audience members, Kater began “In Montreal” with her looping, cyclical, trance-like clawhammer banjo groove. I was immediately transported, immediately grounded, gently – and forcibly – brought to the moment. I still experience the same visceral sensation each time I hear this track begin, the old-time banjo hook leaving and rejoining the beat deliciously, sketching out an expansive pocket. This night, in cold Kansas City, Kater was joined by flutist Amber Underwood (AKA Flutienastiness), who was even further transportive and dreamy in her interpretations of the track. It was a transcendent song, a daring banjo-flute dialogue, a mind-blowing mini set, and a perfect harbinger of what Strange Medicine would cure and balm. – Justin Hiltner
June 7-8, 2024 – Laurel Cove Music Festival
The gem of a festival located just north of the Cumberland Gap in Pineville, Kentucky, has fostered several special moments in recent years, but none come close to matching the memories from Wyatt Flores and The Red Clay Strays headlining sets there this past June.
The first came when Flores’ mics were cut off before an encore, leading to his band sitting atop the speakers lining the stage for a crowd sing along to Tyler Childers’ “Lady May” that to this day still gives me goosebumps. But if that wasn’t enough, The Strays topped it the following night when their show turned into an impromptu baptism after people in the crowd began jumping into the shallow pond surrounding the stage during a performance of their hit song, “Don’t Care.”
Both occurrences were pure magic from two of the year’s hottest country-adjacent acts in an intimate setting with only 1,500 people in attendance, showing that even in the age of corporate mega-festivals the best things still do come in small packages. – Matt Wickstrom
Though he was never top of the pops – or even on the charts at all, either solo or with Flat Duo Jets – wildman proto-rockabilly guitarist John Michael Dexter “Dex” Romweber was still an inspirational icon in the roots-rock world and a key influence on major bands like White Stripes and Black Keys. Romweber was just 57 years old when he died from a cardiac event this year, a shocking event that inspired a worldwide outpouring of tributes that went on for days. Maybe the best of all came from Jack White, who was always wide open about the depth of Romweber’s influence on White Stripes. Writing on Instagram, White proclaimed that Dex “was the type that don’t get 3 course dinners, awards, gold records and statues made of them because they are too real, too much, too strange, too good.” That’s the truth. – David Menconi
July 27, 2024 – Langhorne Slim, “We the People (Fuck the Man)” Live at the BGS Jam at Newport Folk Festival
While putting together the set list for the BGS Late Night Jam, “A Bluegrass Situation,” at Newport Folk Festival back in July, our old pal Langhorne Slim suggested a new tune he had just written. Would the house band be willing to learn it for this special occasion? In the words of our jam host and BGS co-founder Ed Helms, the song was an “instant Newport Classic.”
Slim’s new tune, “We the People (Fuck the Man)” – later released on streaming platforms just before the election – echoed through the Pickens Theatre that Saturday night and immediately got the audience on their feet. Its lyrics are as timeless and rallying as any Guthrie tune, but amidst all the declarations against greed and polarization there’s an optimistic plea in the chorus:
So let us love our neighbors Protect the land Look our brother in the eye When we shake his hand It’s been this way a long time It’s hard to understand The time has come for everyone We the people, fuck the man
In these tumultuous times, Slim gave us words (and a performance) we shouldn’t soon forget. – Amy Reitnouer Jacobs
Sam Williams & Carter Faith, “‘Til I Can Make It on My Own”
Sam Williams and Carter Faith drape their fringe-laced voices over Tammy Wynnette’s “‘Til I Can Make It on My Own.” While honoring the song’s 1976 roots, the two rising stars spin their own lonesome and delicate performance that seems to transcend time and place. “Lord, you know I’m gonna need a friend,” they sing, trading stunningly confessional lines and background harmony. “‘Til I get used to losing you/ Let me keep on using you, ‘til I can make it on my own.” Through a honeyed, emotionally resonant arrangement, Williams and Faith demonstrate exactly why they’re among the best of today’s new crop of talent. – Bee Delores
Yasmin Williams, Acadia
The guitar is perhaps the most ubiquitous instrument in the modern world, making it even more notable that a picker like Yasmin Williams could still stake out fresh territory on the instrument, finding and championing her own truly original sound and approach. Acadia is a masterwork, breaking still new ground after Williams’ incredibly successful 2021 album, Urban Driftwood. While Acadia isn’t exactly a reinvention for the picker-composer-innovator, it does limitlessly expand the acoustic universe she’s been fleshing out since releasing her debut, Unwind, in 2018. That’s a fairly short runway for a creative to accomplish so much, especially given Williams seemingly treats her guitars as brand new devices each time she picks them up to compose. The results are often bafflingly, jaw-dropping, and dramatic – but always musical and ceaselessly inspiring. – Justin Hiltner
Photo Credit: Tracy Chapman live on the 2024 GRAMMY Awards; Kaia Kater by Janice Reid; Langhorne Slim with Ed Helms at Newport Folk Festival by Nina Westervelt.
It’s certainly true that the Grateful Dead were never a bluegrass band, starting with the fact that their lineup had not just one drummer, but two. And yet it also can’t be denied that the group’s musical DNA has a wide streak of bluegrass deep within, both in terms of licks and improvisational flair.
In large part, that’s due to the late Jerry Garcia – “Captain Trips” – who started out as a banjo player before finding his most famous calling as the Grateful Dead’s lead guitarist. Before that, Garcia played in folk circles for years, and his many extracurricular collaborators included David Grisman, Peter Rowan, Don Reno, Chubby Wise and other titans of the genre. More than a quarter-century before O Brother, Where Art Thou? took bluegrass to the top of the charts, Garcia’s 1973 side project, Old & In the Way, stood as the top-selling bluegrass album of all time.
Garcia and the Dead’s bluegrass bona fides are solid indeed, as shown by artifacts like the Pickin’ on the Grateful Dead series (not to mention Grass Is Dead, a tribute act). But maybe the strongest testament to the strength of the Dead’s bluegrass-adjacent side is what other artists have made of their catalog. Countless bluegrass musicians have covered Dead songs in ways that would appeal to even the staunchest chair-snapping purists. Here are some of the best.
“Friend of the Devil” – The Travelin’ McCourys (2019)
This rounder’s tale is the granddaddy of ’em all, a bluegrass staple from almost the moment it appeared on the Dead’s 1970 proto-Americana classic, American Beauty. Long a picking-circle staple at festivals, it’s been covered by everybody from Tony Rice to Elvis Costello. But here is a fantastic cover by one of the finest family bands in all of bluegrass, captured onstage at the Grey Fox Bluegrass Festival in 2019. In contrast to the manic pace of the original, this version proceeds at more of an elegant glide. But it’s still got plenty of get-up-and-go, with killer solos over walking bass and a great Ronnie McCoury lead vocal.
“Dire Wolf” – Molly Tuttle (2022)
Among the most acclaimed young artists in bluegrass, Molly Tuttle is a two-time Guitar Player of the Year winner from the International Bluegrass Music Association. She also won IBMA’s Album of the Year trophy for 2022’s Crooked Tree, which included the 1970 Workingman’s Dead standard “Dire Wolf” as a bonus track. Equal parts folk fable and murder ballad, it’s something like “Little Red Riding Hood” with an unhappy ending. And Tuttle’s vocal is even more striking than her guitar-playing.
“Wharf Rat” – Billy Strings (2020)
Possibly even more acclaimed as a guitarist is William “Billy Strings” Apostol, another IBMA Awards fixture (and multiple Entertainer of the Year winner) who is frequently likened to Doc Watson. But few guitarists have ever conjured up Garcia’s sound, spirit, and all-around vibe as effectively as Strings. A song about a lost soul in a seaside town, “Wharf Rat” first came out on the Dead’s eponymous 1971 live album. Strings’ 2020 live version from the Capitol Theatre in Port Chester, New York, is amazing, as Strings doesn’t sing it so much as inhabit it. The money shot is his guitar solo that begins just after the five-minute mark.
“Scarlet Begonias” – The Infamous Stringdusters (2020)
Gambling is one of the Dead’s recurrent tropes and “Scarlet Begonias” gives it a playful spin with a loping guitar riff. The original dates back to 1974’s From the Mars Hotel and it’s been widely covered in oddball styles by the likes of electronic duo Thievery Corporation and the ska band Sublime. But “Scarlet Begonias” has never had it so well as in this excellent bluegrass version by The Infamous Stringdusters, shot onstage at Seattle’s Showbox just ahead of the pandemic in early 2020.
“Ripple” – Dale Ann Bradley (2019)
More often than not, vocals tended to be the Dead’s weak link. But that is not a problem for Kentucky Music Hall of Famer and five-time IBMA Female Vocalist of the Year Dale Ann Bradley. The elegiac “Ripple” began life as the B-side to the “Truckin’” single and was also a show-stopper on the Dead’s 1981 acoustic live album, Reckoning. Bradley covered it on her 2019 LP, The Hard Way, with Tina Adair providing truly lovely vocal harmonies.
“Uncle John’s Band” – Fireside Collective (2022)
One of the Dead’s folksiest numbers, “Uncle John’s Band” kicked off Workingman’s Dead at an easy-going amble – a clear departure from the psychedelic excursions of the Dead’s earliest work. This live version by the young Asheville, North Carolina, band Fireside Collective reimagines “Uncle John’s Band” as sprawling jam-band fodder.
“Cassidy” – Greensky Bluegrass (2007)
“Cassidy” first appeared on-record as a Bob Weir solo tune on his 1972 side-project album, Ace, but it’s been on multiple Dead live albums over the years. It’s always been something of an enigma, inspired by a young girl as well as Neal Cassady. Michigan jamgrass ensemble Greensky Bluegrass gets to its beat-poet heart on this version from 2007’s Live at Bell’s.
“Tennessee Jed” – Front Country (2018)
A frequent theme for the Dead was being in motion, whether traveling toward something or running away from it. So it follows that homesickness would be an aspect of their music, perhaps most overtly on this wistful song from the double-live LP, Europe ’72. California’s Front Country put “Tennessee Jed” through its paces in this 2018 version from their “Kitchen Covers” series.
“Touch of Grey” – Love Canon (2014)
If the Dead wasn’t a bluegrass band, they most definitely weren’t a pop band, either. But the group had occasional brushes with the Hot 100, most famously with the 1970 statement of purpose “Truckin’” and its “what a long strange trip it’s been” tagline (even though the group had only been together about five years by then). “Truckin’” stalled out at No. 64 and was later eclipsed by its 1987 sequel “Touch of Grey” – an actual Top 10 hit with its bittersweet conclusion, “We will get by, we will survive.”
From Charlottesville, Virginia, Love Canon strips away the ’80s pop keyboards and covers the song well as straight-up bluegrass on 2014’s “Dead Covers Project.”
Photo Credit: Old & In the Way, courtesy of Acoustic Disc.
Chris Eldridge and I met when I stepped off of an elevator with my bass at the International Bluegrass Music Association’s convention in 2004. The Infamous Stringdusters were forming in Nashville at the time and they needed a bass player for the jam that night and, it turned out, for the band in general. We spent the first two years of that band traveling and making music together and Chris is still one of my favorite musicians and humans. A member of Punch Brothers and Mighty Poplar, he’s also made a couple great records with guitarist Julian Lage and plays in a duo with his wife Kristen Andreassen. Our conversation started when he arrived at my house and didn’t end until he pulled out of the driveway the next day, but we’ve captured some of the best parts here for the podcast.
This episode was recorded live at 185 King St in Brevard, NC on November 12, 2024
Photo Credit: Laura E Partain
Editor’s Note: The Travis Book Happy Hour is hosted by Travis Book of the GRAMMY Award-winning band, The Infamous Stringdusters. The show’s focus is musical collaboration and conversation around matters of being. The podcast includes highlights from Travis’s interviews and music from each live show recorded in Brevard, North Carolina.
The Travis Book Happy Hour is brought to you by Thompson Guitars and is presented by Americana Vibes and The Bluegrass Situation as part of the BGS Podcast Network. You can find the Travis Book Happy Hour on Instagram and Facebook and online at thetravisbookhappyhour.com.
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