Tag: Hayes Carll

Hayes Carll Finds His Fun Side Again on ‘What It Is’

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With his new album What It Is, Hayes Carll is feeling more like his old self. … Scratch that. The Texas-bred singer-songwriter is feeling better than ever.

“I’m still trying to figure my life out and what I want to say creatively,” Carll explains, “but I got back to having fun.”

Hayes Carll admits he was working through a personal funk on his last album, the sparse and serious post-divorce project Lovers and Leavers. But calling What It Is the “culmination of everything I’ve done in the past,” he’s delighting in the surreal nature of everyday life once more – just like he has since 2002’s Flowers & Liquor – but doing so now with an element of hard-won wisdom. Co-produced by Carll with fiancée/fellow roots poet Allison Moorer and Brad Jones, the set features 12 free-spirited tracks that find him happy to be getting on with the business of living. He’s also leaning back into his sardonic wit and letting the full-band energy flow, as he explores the beautiful quirks of his own relationship, a society in upheaval, and most of all, what it means to really be present in the moment.

Your previous album, Lovers and Leavers, was quiet and contemplative, and you were thinking very seriously about your role as a singer/songwriter. What It Is feels more fun and irreverent, like it’s less concerned with being something specific. Why is that?

Well, Lovers and Leavers was a really specific moment in my life when I was trying to make sense of things personally and trying to find my voice creatively – I felt like I had sort of lost it and I wasn’t sure what I was doing anymore. … Since that record was recorded, a lot of life has been lived and I’m not quite in the same spot. I felt a little like a turtle stuck in my shell at that time, and now it’s like I’m starting to come out a little bit again and just relax.

Feeling lost creatively must be terrifying as an artist.

I think I was just not tuned into my life, and one of the themes on [What It Is] was finding that connection. The idea of life passing me by. I just turned 43 last week, and by all measurable metrics I have an incredible life. I knew that, but I wasn’t happy – I was disconnected and feeling dissatisfied. With this record, I feel like I’ve come out on the other side. I don’t have all the answers, but I’m in a much better place.

What do you think changed?

It’s just life. For me a lot of what comes out creatively has to do with what’s happening in my life, and what’s happening in my life is I’m in a solid relationship with a woman I love, who’s also at times my creative partner. Plus I’m feeling more connected in general with the world around me, and feeling able to observe and comment on it because of that.

That’s clearly the theme of the album’s title track, and I love its chorus hook – “What it is, is right here in front of me / And I’m not letting go.” When did that hit you?

I started to write a song called “What It Is, What It Was, and What It Will Be,” and it was a totally different vibe. I took it to Allison and asked her if she would help me sort it out because I just wasn’t landing it in a meaningful way, and she pointed out what now seems obvious to me – which is what we came up with in the chorus. What happened in the past is gone and you can’t change it. The future is out of your control, and what we have is what you’re experiencing right now. Going back to the dissatisfaction I was feeling, that had a lot to do with that – I think I was not present for a lot of my life and I missed a lot of it. That’s what I’ve been working on changing.

You worked closely with Allison on this – since she was not only a co-writer but also a co-producer. Can listeners hear the contribution she made in the studio?

Yeah, she co-wrote six or seven of the songs and she sings on four or five of them, so she’s all over the record in that way. But just having written these songs with Allison and having conversations all the time about where I wanted to go creatively, I thought nobody would be a better translator for that than she could be. That’s never been my comfort zone, and even speaking the language has never been something I excelled at.

It’s challenging for me, but it’s one of her strengths – being able to hone in on something she picked up from hearing me play the stuff, or even hearing me pontificate about what I want to do in a way that sounds like drivel to most people, then take it and turn it into a coherent point and set of instructions. That was one of the big reasons I wanted her to be a co-producer, and the other was I really respect her taste musically.

Has working together with Allison changed your songwriting at all?

We have different styles and strengths. She’s really disciplined and gets her work done on schedule, and is in the chair every day and gets to the point. I can take years to finish a sentence and can be all over the place, vaguely searching for some mythical feeling. She’s certainly poetic but can be really practical in getting down to the craft of the song. So I love that. When we work together I think the whole ends up being greater than the sum of the parts.

“Jesus and Elvis” has that classic Hayes Carll feel to me – it’s clever and vivid and conversational, but also built on a really poignant story. Where did you hear that story to begin with?

I wrote that with Allison and Matraca Berg, and Matraca had the title. She goes “I’ve been thinking about this title ‘Jesus and Elvis,’” and it immediately reminded me of a bar I hung out in in Austin. I’ve since found out this story is not actually the real story, but at the time I had convinced myself it was. [Laughs] This bar has Christmas lights up year-round and a jukebox in the corner with nothing on it past 1968, and I had heard it was because the bar owner’s son went off to fight in Vietnam at Christmas time. She promised she wouldn’t take the lights down until he came home, but he never did, so that’s why they’re still up all these years later.

The album starts with “None’Ya,” which is your first #1 single on Americana radio, and it seems to be very much about your relationship with Allison. It’s a tender song, but in a flirty, teasing way. Is that how you guys really are together?

[Laughs] Well, somewhat. Everything in there is pretty accurate with the exception of the first verse – I can’t remember what I asked Allison, but it wasn’t “Where have you been?” Anyway she just said “none’ya,” and that was the first time I had heard that. She’s from South Alabama and has her own language that leaves me scratching my head sometimes, and “none’ya, tend’ya, mind’ya” is one of her things, like “none of your business, tend your business, mind your business.” I thought “Man, I’ve gotta get that in to a song somehow,” but I didn’t even really think of it being about her at first.

So I spent a lot of time with it, and I had a guitar lick and verse but didn’t know where to go with it. I was sitting there at the table and she walked by and asked me what I was doing, and I said “Trying to finish this song, I think it’s about you and me.” And she just said, “Why don’t you tell them I painted the porch ceiling turquoise to keep out the spirits, and about how we pretend we don’t know each other on airplanes?” She didn’t even sit down, she just walked by and went, “You big dummy, why don’t you just tell them what we actually do?” So of course I went and did that.

You’re also doing some social commentary with tracks like “Fragile Men,” “Wild Pointy Finger” and “Times Like These,” and it’s not like you’ve never done that before, but does it feel different getting political in these hyper-polarized times?

It’s a strange place to be to question whether it’s OK to share your beliefs as an artist, because on one hand that’s your job. But on the other hand there’s a significant chance you’ll lose a portion of your audience should they not agree with you. I hate to have to think about that, but having said it, I don’t really care anymore. [Laughs]

We wrote a song called “Fragile Men” which originally was just about patriarchy, but a week after we started writing it, Charlottesville happened, so I got back together with my co-writer, Lolo, and we finished it with that in mind. Rather than shout about how angry and horrified we were about what happened with these white nationalists and Neo-Nazis and Klansmen, we figured the best way to get out what we were feeling was to make fun of them – to have this faux sympathy for how hard it must be to be a white male in America and how unfair it is that they have to NOT burn crosses.

Anyway, Lolo recorded a demo version and made a quick YouTube video, and I got I-don’t-know how many thousand comments about it, but a lot of them were attacking ME for attacking Nazis [Laughs]. It blew me away! Like, “At what point did we become a country where it’s divisive to make fun of Klansmen?”

We’re closing in on 20 years since your debut album came out. What do you think you’ve learned in that time about life, your work and just being happy? It seems like that’s what the album is getting at.

Exactly. For me this record is a culmination of the 17 years of recorded work and the 20-years plus of playing music for a living. It’s about not living in the past and not trying to control the future, but just trying to experience what’s happening. What I’ve learned is you get one pass, and I’m never gonna be younger than I am at this moment. There’s never gonna be a day where everything falls into place, it is what it is at that moment. That’s been my takeaway over all this time. … That, and too much bourbon and not enough sleep is a bad combo.

Photo credit: David McClister

MIXTAPE: Derek Hoke’s Tunes from $2 Tuesday

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Back in 2010, the 5 Spot in Nashville was known for two things — the Monday night dance party and the Wednesday night Old Time Jam. They were both very popular weekly events.
But Tuesdays were a dead zone. Either the venue was closed or a haphazard show or writer’s night was thrown together. Most of the time it was just me and a few other local musicians hanging out at the bar.

Those musicians just hanging out? Caitlin Rose, Margo Price, and Ricky Young (The Wild Feathers).

So, I tried to think of a way to get those people on stage and do something fun, without making it a big deal. Take the “business” out of the music business. It took a while to catch on, but over time, we all started having fun with the opportunity to play music with zero pressure.

The key was to do this every week. I booked five acts who each got to play five songs each. I tried focusing on booking a diverse set of acts — I really wanted it to be a variety of styles. That was the hard part. I had to get new people involved. I had to get musicians to come to the 5 Spot to play a few songs for no money and a very small audience. So I made it about the neighborhood: East Nashville. It was something for “us.” I had to get people to think about it like a live rehearsal for their new band — a place to try out some new tunes — and it had to be fun. I’d play a set every week with my newly formed band and act as emcee. Co-owner Todd Sherwood and I came up with the name “$2 Tuesday.” Local brewery Yazoo got on board as a sponsor, and we were off and running. I saw it as an East Nashville night club act that happened every week.

Who’s on the bill doesn’t matter. $2 Tuesday is the show. There’s no opener and no headliner. I just want the music to be good. Now that we can charge $2 at the door, I can pay everyone a little something for their time and talent. That feels good.

Two things eventually happened that solidified the format of each Tuesday: A band called the Clones (now Los Colognes) moved to town and started playing a lot of late-night sets on Tuesdays. Also, my friend Tim Hibbs brought his turntables to play records in between acts. Now I had an Ed McMahon to my Johnny Carson …

The first few years saw acts like Corey Chisel (who was living in Nashville at the time) and a virtually unknown Jason Isbell play some tunes. Peter Buck of R.E.M. sat in on bass one night. The newly termed “Late Night” slot gave an opportunity for longer sets. Folks like Hayes Carll would take that slot to run through a tour set. Shovels & Rope packed the place for a sneak peak of their new material. Over the years, we’ve hosted Nikki Lane, Sunday Valley (Sturgill Simpson), Bobby Bare Jr., Nicole Atkins, Lydia Loveless, All Them Witches, Lloyd Cole, Robyn Hitchcock, Margo Price, and on and on. All of this done without posters or fanfare. No Facebook invites or business contracts. Just word of mouth. A “you had to be there” type of show. Tuesdays have become a night to get turned on to new music of all kinds. Songwriters from all over the country, bluegrass acts, touring and local rock bands looking for a show. We’ve even had hip-hop and comedy acts. That’s what I’ve always loved about Tuesdays. It’s just this little thing that grew into something really special. All of this for just two bucks.

People from all over the world have come to $2 Tuesdays at The 5 Spot. I never imagined that. When I travel to other cities, people there have heard of it. It still blows my mind. Each week, with a big smile on my face, I ask the audience, “Are you getting your $2 worth?” After seven years, I’d say the answer is, “Yes.” — Derek Hoke

Cory Chisel — “Never Meant to Love You”

Cory lived in Nashville for a short time. Couch surfing in between tours. He came by $2 Tuesday to show us all how it’s really done. Still one of my favorite songs. 

Jason Isbell — “Alabama Pines”

I was working with Jason’s manager at the time. She brought him by a $2 Tuesday, and I asked him if he’d like to do a couple of tunes. Pretty sure the bartender was the only other person that knew who he was. A couple of years later, the whole world would know. 

Buffalo Clover — “Hey Child”

Before she was “Margo Price,” she and her husband Jeremy were rocking soulful tunes like this one. This song really floored me the first time I heard it. Powerful. Margo was (and still is) part of the little 5 Spot crew that makes the East Nashville music scene so special. 

Shovels & Rope — “Birmingham”

I first met Cary Ann Hearst at a $2 Tuesday. We were talking about South Carolina, where I’m from. Had no idea she lived in Charleston. I thought she lived down the street! Little did I know that Charleston had a killer burgeoning music scene going on. They played the Late Night slot a few weeks later. Still one of the best sets I’ve ever seen. So much beauty and soul. You wouldn’t think just two people could make a sound so strong. 

Robyn Hitchcock — “Somebody to Break Your Heart”

First time I ever did a double take at $2 Tuesday was when Robyn walked in. He’s just so unmistakably “Robyn Hitchcock.” I grew up listening to his records. He’d come by and sit in with bands. Do some Dylan tunes. My band and I would back him on some Elvis stuff. He’d do his own tunes. He quickly became a fixture around the neighborhood. Now I see him at the coffee shop down the street all the time. Always makes my day. Such a unique talent and very kind person. East Nashville is lucky to have him. 

Lloyd Cole — “Myrtle and Rose”

Another blast from my musical past. Lloyd came on board via $2 Tuesday DJ Tim Hibbs. Lloyd had been on Tim’s radio show earlier that day and he asked him to stop by. We all had the pleasure of hearing him play some new tunes, as well as guest DJing the night. A very memorable evening. 

The Wild Feathers — “If You Don’t Love Me”

Ricky Young is one of the most talented people I know. In typical music biz fashion, he would sell out the Exit/In, then two months later be waiting tables again. Then he went to California. When he came back, he brought the Wild Feathers with him. Sweet harmonies and killer tunes. They played $2 Tuesday before their debut record was released. Great live band. And great guys, too. 

Adia Victoria — “Mortimer’s Blues”
Adia made her $2 Tuesday debut accompanied by local pianist Micah Hulscher. A quiet, captivating performance. Stark. Raw. Beautiful. Retro, yet modern. A true artist. 

Los Colognes — “Working Together”
When they moved from Chicago to East Nashville, they were calling themselves the Clones. A group of super-talented and endearing dudes, they quickly became a $2 Tuesday staple. Playing the Late Night sets and garnering attention. Their brand of bluesy rock ‘n’ roll was just what this singer/songwriter town needed. A breath of fresh air. 

Nicole Atkins — “If I Could”
Nicole’s backing band consists of a lot of former 5 Spot employees. That goes for numerous other acts, too, now that I think about it. Nicole kind of has it all. Great singer, wonderful performer, and an amazing songwriter. She put on a stellar show for her $2 Tuesday Late Night set. 

Hayes Carll — “Hard Out Here”
Hayes was in town writing for his new record, at the time. He was also getting ready for a tour. His band met him in East Nashville, and they put on a killer set at $2 Tuesday for those lucky enough to be there that night. 

Steve Earle, ‘Goodbye Michelangelo’

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These days, everyone has a voice. Famous or not, you can spew anything you like in a matter of seconds — on Twitter, Instagram, or Facebook, or in the words of a national publication. It’s our detriment as much as it’s our strength: And when you’re an artist, doing an interview to promote an album, it can absolutely help as much as it hurts. Gentle thoughts don’t make headlines, but bombastic ones do, and so, over and over again, musicians make waves when they should be respecting the current.

Thus is the case with Steve Earle, undoubtedly one of our master songwriters, whose new album, So You Wannabe an Outlaw, is just out. It’s a great record, but it’s his curmudgeonly thoughts in a recent Guardian interview that have everyone talking: He rails against Noel Gallagher, insults Hayes Carll, and takes down all of modern country (except Chris Stapleton) in a few breaths. Maybe it goes with the theme of the LP, which spends some time taking to task those aspiring “outlaws,” who praise the lifestyle that is not quite as aspirational as it looks. But it’s easy to get lost in sensational interviews, and miss the music.

Which would be a shame on So You Wannabe an Outlaw, because there is so much beauty, perhaps at its height on the raw “Goodbye Michelangelo,” written for Earle’s late friend Guy Clark. Here, any grit is restricted to Earle’s voice, as ragged as ever, plucking in minor key about the songwriting legend and fellow “outlaw” Clark. “I’m bound to follow you someday. You have always shown the way,” sings Earle, brushing up with his own mortality and juggling thoughts of his legacy, too. Many call Clark a craftsman, but here, Earle equates him with the ultimate Renaissance man. “Taught me everything I know,” he adds, before the album comes to a close on a somber, humble note. It’s a moment to allow the music do the talking, letting it drown out all that other white noise.  

MIXTAPE: Bruce Robison’s Top Texas Songwriters

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Who better than to make a Mixtape of Texas songwriters than a great Texas songwriter? No one. That’s why we asked Bruce Robison to compile a collection of his favorite Lone Star State representatives. And we think he did a mighty fine job of it.

Cindy Walker — “Bubbles in My Beer” (Bob Wills version)

But also “Cherokee Maiden,” “You Don’t Know Me,” and many more. From Mexia, Texas. She helped set the tone for Texas songwriters from Texas later. Incredible depth and honesty, yet simple and beautiful at the same time

Lefty Frizzell — “I Love You a Thousand Ways”

Lefty’s influence as a songwriter and singer is hard to understand. The folks listening to his incredible string of hits went out and created what we think of as country music today.

Buddy Holly — “True Love Ways”

What Buddy Holly did in two years coming from nowhere is an accomplishment rivaled only by the band who named themselves after his band.

Roy Orbison — “Crying”

From Wink, Texas. I can’t imagine what rock ‘n’ roll would be without Buddy Holly and Roy Orbison.

Willie Nelson — “It’s Not Supposed to Be That Way”

For good or bad, the great Texas songwriters were not easily contained in any genre. Nothing much I can add to what’s been said about Will.

Kris Kristofferson — “Loving Her Was Easier”

I love the Glaser Brothers’ version of this, too. See above.

Billy Joe Shaver — “I’m Just an Old Chunk of Coal” (John Anderson version)

Scary, sacred, sublime. Old buddy of mine who managed Billy Joe for 10 minutes said he had storage units full of poetry in Waco somewhere. Wouldn’t surprise me a bit.

Guy Clark — “Instant Coffee Blues”

From Monahans, Texas. Took all that came before and changed the rules.

Townes Van Zandt — “Tecumseh Valley”

Fort Worth’s tortured genius.

Rodney Crowell — “Adam’s Song”

Rodney is in the pantheon and right here walking among us. Like Bob, he might not play all your old favorites, but then again, he might.

Hayes Carll — “It’s a Shame”

With humor and attitude and a weird-ass voice, Hayes is a great songwriter by any measure and the original type of artist we are really proud of down here.

Damon Bramblett — “Sweet Sundown” (Kelly Willis version)

Kelly and I and Charlie and others have cut Damon’s incredibly original songs. Johnny Cash meets Bob Dylan.

Robert Earl Keen — “Village Inn”

After Guy and Townes, Robert started another era of Texas country music songwriting.

John Fullbright — “Me Wanting You”

I know he’s an Oklahoma guy … I don’t care. He’s a great songwriter and 90 percent of his gigs and fans are probably in Texas. Go see him and request “Hoyt Axton.”

Courtney Patton — “It’s a Shame”

This will be a hit someday.

BGS Class of 2016: Songs

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Any given year is damn well over-run with great music — far too much for any one list to encompass. So, for our year-end songs round up, the BGS writers each picked tunes they loved that were not on any of our year-end albums. Maybe we loved the whole record; maybe we didn't. But we sure do love these tunes.

Aaron Lee Tasjan, Silver Tears, "Little Movies"

Aaron Lee Tasjan has a long, varied resumé. A founding member of glam-rock band Semi Precious Weapons and an ex-guitarist for the New York Dolls, Tasjan is now making some of the most interesting country music currently coming out of Nashville. Silver Tears track "Little Movies" is a perfect little slice of what Tasjan has to offer: soaring harmonies, unorthodox arrangements, and smart, compelling songwriting. — Brittney McKenna

Adia Victoria, Beyond the Bloodhounds, “Stuck in the South”

“I don’t know nothing ‘bout Southern belles, but I can tell you something ‘bout Southern hell,” Adia Victoria exclaims on this swampy burner that anchors her debut album, Beyond the Bloodhounds. Giving form to her experience as a Black woman raised in the Seventh Day Adventist Church in the South, she tackles the complexities of southern identity with equal parts grace and grit. Her arresting vocals and hypnotizing guitar make for a sound that’s unapologetically haunting: It’ll stick with you long after the final notes ring out. — Desiré Moses

Andy Shauf, The Party, "Quite Like You"

If Andy Shauf’s The Party is the overarching Saturday night hang, this intensely rhythmic song details a corner of the party through a story of being friend-zoned. We’ve all been there, and you can hear the vulnerability in Shauf’s voice as he lays it out, atop distorted piano riffs. — Josephine Wood

Beyoncé featuring the Dixie Chicks, "Daddy Lessons"

One of the only bright moments in the absolute garbage fire of a year that has been 2016 was the "surprise" performance of "Daddy Lessons" from Beyoncé and the Dixie Chicks at the 50th annual CMA Awards. To some, it may have seemed like an unexpected pairing, but given both the Dixie Chicks' reverence for the twangy Lemonade track (they performed it on their 2016 world tour), the Texas connection, and the two artists' shared histories as "controversial" figures, it shouldn't have been. Less surprising than the performance itself was the new controversy that quickly followed — a coded "Was that really country?" debate that, in some ways, mirrored the troubling dialogue occurring around the soon-to-be-determined presidential election. The performance was a victory for diversity on a stage that greatly needed it, as well as the best "fuck you" to the industry that unceremoniously excommunicated them over a decade prior that the Dixie Chicks, who were invited to perform at the insistence of Queen Bey herself, could have possibly imagined. — BMc

Dori Freeman, Dori Freeman, “You Say”

To call Freeman’s “You Say” simple would do a disservice to the intricacies she weaves with her lyricism and arrangement. Quiet, yes; simple, no. The higher register that marks her vocals on the verses dips down into growling pain on the chorus. “Darling I can’t stop thinking of you/ Like a dog in the hot night, I’m howling for you,” Freeman sings, her pronunciation striking the consonants of “darling” and “dog” in affective ways that create an expansive longing. — Amanda Wicks

Dylan LeBlanc, Cautionary Tale, "Easy Way Out"

Honestly, there's a case to be made for every one of the 10 tunes on this Dylan LeBlanc record to be cited for its greatness. They are all just that finely crafted and fantastically rendered. On this cut, he turns his very pointed gaze inward to explore his own struggles with depression and addiction. "Thorazine dreams are thundering in dangerous weather where, in my head, I'll soon be dead or soon feeling better." Having come out the on the latter side of that equation, LeBlanc knows of what he speaks (and sings) in regard to cautionary tales. — Kelly McCartney

Hamilton Leithauser + Rostam, I Had a Dream That You Were Mine, "Peaceful Morning"

Former Vampire Weekend multi-instrumentalist Rostam Batmanglij and the Walkmen's Hamilton Leithauser seem, on paper, like two of the unlikeliest musicians to make a thoughtful folk-rock album, but that's exactly what they've done with I Had a Dream That You Were Mine, their debut album as a duo. Standout track "Peaceful Morning" opens with a gentle banjo over an acoustic drum kit and simple piano chords, before opening with a lyric ("I thought I heard the angels, Lord") that could have been plucked right out of a bluegrass song. The song, like the album, is unlike anything else released this year, a vital piece of work from supposed outsiders breathing new life into the increasingly exhausted genre that is Americana. — BMc

Hayes Carll, Lovers & Leavers, "The Love That We Need"

Hayes Carll's dissection of a marriage that slowly falls from passion to plain is the exact opposite of a manufactured Music Row truck song — it may not be manly to admit that (gasp!) men and women both crave stability and partnership to a fault, but it works as a perfect confession on "The Love That We Need." Most love songs paint romance as ending with a dramatic bang, but Carll knows that the metaphor of two lovers, side by side in bed with bodies that never touch, is one that hits most of us where it hurts. It's a moment to help realize that the pain of letting go is better than the paralysis of holding on to something broken. — Marissa Moss

Jonny Fritz, Sweet Creep, "Stadium Inn"

Is there anyone out there with an imagination like Jonny Fritz? You can point out the humor and weird wit in Sweep Creep's songs all you want, but perhaps Fritz's most notable talent is the wild ways he's able to warp his mind to tell stories using building blocks no one else would ever think of or see scenarios that would take anyone else a handful of magic mushrooms to ever access. Case in point: "Stadium Inn," which imagines life beyond the mysteriously stained, always-open drapes of a seedy Nashville motel, set to a honky-tonk-meets-"Superstition" vamp and spatters of down-on the-farm fiddle. Horney honeymooners, hookers, and philandering husbands: It's all here for the taking. And no one serves it up like Fritz. — MM

Joseph, I'm Alone, No You're Not, “White Flag”

You could cherry pick a few songs from Joseph’s full-length debut and manage to come away confused about their designation as roots music. But catch this trio of sisters from Portland, Oregon, performing together on a stage, and you’ll see the rich folk tradition that inspired the bulk of their harmony-driven catalog. “White Flag” is Joseph drawing from the best of both worlds: a rhythmic, chant-like intro, crisp lyrics, strong vocal harmonies, and an upbeat chorus that will seep into your brain and refuse to leave. With its accessible sound and traditional roots, “White Flag” is the perfect gateway song — drawing pop fans into more authentic, traditional sounds and, likewise, bringing traditionalists out of their comfort zones. — Dacey Orr

Levon Henry, Sinker, "Skin of the Lion"

Upon pressing play, you’ll be in an instantly altered state of mind, as Levon Henry sings about releasing a tiger with the song building a musical haze from there. Henry’s sultry vocals combine with repetitive guitar riffs and distorted vocals to create a jazzed-up Tame Impala-esque sound. — JW

Lewis & Leigh, Ghost, "The 4:19"

Some duos sound superfluous — like a person adorned in one too many pieces of jewelry — and others fit together so intensely that it's impossible to imagine on without the other. The latter is the case with Lewis & Leigh's harmonies on their debut LP, Ghost, that always sound like a casual conversation within a complex psyche. It's at its best on tracks like "The 4:19" which is, in some ways, more Elliot Smith than Civil Wars, a work of languorous beauty about finding a place to belong when we're always in motion in the exact opposite direction of our expectations. — MM

LP, Death Valley, "Muddy Waters" & "Lost on You"

These two fantastic tracks tether LP's Death Valley EP to a rootsier sound than she employed on her last record and, MAN, do they do it right. The purposely plodding groove of "Muddy Waters" evokes exactly what it's meant to: a defiant, burdened body slogging through an emotional swamp … but slogging through nonetheless. The wispier cowboy swagger of "Lost on You" — replete with a cattle rustler's whistle — lightens things up, but still stands brazenly indignant in response to a broken heart. — KMc

Lucy Dacus, No Burden, “Troublemaker Doppelganger”

The second track on Lucy Dacus’s debut album (which bears the sharpness of a veteran work) is a bluesy jaunt that deals in dualities. “Is that a hearse or a limousine?” the Virginia native asks in the opening line before declaring, “I saw a girl that looked like you, and I wanted to tell everyone to run away from her.” Expanding beneath Dacus’s honey-dipped vocals is a propulsive riff brimming with so much swagger that you can’t help but nod along. — DM

Mandolin Orange, Blindfaller, “Take This Heart of Gold”

“Take This Heart of Gold” is a pledge — the kind of assurance lovers offer one another when they see that settling down isn’t settling. An electric guitar offers a shimmery rumination to start, and that contemplation only grows with Andrew Marlin’s staid vocals. The focus, as always with this duo, is the harmonies. Emily Frantz’s voice adds a punctuating note on the verses and swells with Marlin’s on the chorus. It’s soft and sweet without the daydream of idealism. This is reality shining through. — AW

Marisa Anderson, Into the Light, "He Is Without His Guns"

While it was a bad year for just about everything else, 2016 was a great year for guitar players. Everyone from William Tyler and Ryley Walker to Bryan Sutton and Billy Strings released strong albums that reinforced the instrument’s place at the forefront of roots music. Arguably the best and most wide-ranging was Marisa Anderson’s Into the Light, which she described as the soundtrack to a sci-fi Western. If that’s the case, then “He Is Without His Guns” scores the high-noon showdown between gunslingers, evoking the dusty ambience of Ennio Morricone and Wild West grandeur of John Ford. — Stephen Deusner

Michael Kiwanuka, Love & Hate, "Black Man in a White World"

Soul singer Michael Kiwanuka brings his rightful lineage and legacy to bear on this standout track from his fantastic Love & Hate LP. Propulsed by hand claps, the song lays out in stark emotional relief the toil it takes walking through the white world as a Black man with lines like "I'm in love, but I'm still sad. I've found peace, but I'm not glad." That's because even the small wins come with far too many losses for people of color. Even so, Kiwanuka takes the wind righout out of the clichéd sails of the "angry Black man" trope by proclaiming, "I've lost everything I had and I'm not angry and I'm not mad." Clear eyes, full heart, can't lose. — KMc

Miranda Lambert, The Weight of These Wings, "Pushin' Time"

A lot of the songs on Miranda Lambert's The Weight of These Wings are only partially and/or questionably autobiographical. This tune, though, is one that fully, unflinchingly is, as it details the beginnings of her relationship with Anderson East (who lends captivatingly tender harmony vocals to the track). It's one of the most beautiful love songs of the year, mostly because it never crosses the line into overly dreamy sentimentality, choosing rather to stay grounded in its appropriately hopeful romanticism. Who doesn't resonate with a line like "I didn't know I could be kissed like that," if not in experience then, at the very least, in expectation? This song is what dreams are made of. And, sometimes, it seems, those dreams really do come true. — KMc

The Raconteurs, Jack White Acoustic Recordings 1998 – 2016, “Carolina Drama (Acoustic Mix)”

This iteration of the Raconteurs’ “Carolina Drama” is a stripped-down, eerie acoustic murder ballad on string-infused steroids, with the guitar more twangy, strings more prominent, and drums notably missing. — JW

Robert Ellis, Robert Ellis, “California”

“California” begins tranquilly enough, with Robert Ellis softly plucking electric guitar and crooning in his juke joint style. But, by the chorus, the whole thing damn near explodes into the kind of haughty indifference one feigns after a breakup. “Maybe I’ll move to California with the unbroken part of heart I still have left,” he sings of the main character’s decision to leave behind shattered promises. The drums enter the conversation at the chorus as pounding echoes and the guitar’s pacing becomes more frantic. Ellis has mined the California hills and discovered gold. — AW

Shirley Collins, Lodestar, "Awake Awake / The Split Ash Tree/ May Carol / Southover"

On her first album in nearly 40 years, Shirley Collins reintroduces herself with this 11-minute medley of traditional tunes that may date back centuries but still feel startling, unnervingly current. “Awake Awake” was originally written in the late 1500s, but it could have been a response to Brexit, shaming a nation for its hubris. “May Carol,” on the other hand, hopes for a better future for us all. That’s what makes Lodestar the comeback of the year: It reveals an artist who loses herself humbly in her songs, allowing history to speak to the present. — SD

Shovels & Rope, Little Seeds, “Buffalo Nickel”

Shovels & Rope are the rowdiest and, arguably, most adventurous roots band around, capable of clangorous punk conflagration, as well as gentle country musings about life and loss. “Buffalo Nickel” is most definitely the former. The song crashes through a brick wall, opening with a pummeling drumbeat and a barbed guitar riff, like a shotgun wedding of “Be My Baby” and “99 Problems.” But even when they’re trying to “shake the noise out of the rattle,” Michael Trent and Cary Ann Hearst are disarmingly candid about the nature of their collaboration, both musically and romantically, and this boisterous song paints them as bandits on the run, a folk-punk Bonnie & Clyde, playing each note like they’re pulling a Brinks heist. — SD

Sierra Hull, Weighted Mind, “Black River”

Weighted Mind is far from the first time bluegrass fans are hearing from mandolin savant Sierra Hull, but the January full-length from the 25-year-old finds her more confident in her own voice than ever before. “Black River” takes the thick, messy mascara tears familiar to plenty of 20-somethings and transforms them to the stuff of poetry. “A thousand years is but a day, they say. And maybe in a thousand more I will find my way,” she sings at the close of the chorus. One can only hope she will continue to chronicle every step with the honesty and musical integrity of Weighted Mind. — DO

Wilco, Schmilco, “Normal American Kids”

The opening track of Wilco’s 10th album, Schmilco, has all the makings of an instant classic. In this anthem for misfits, Jeff Tweedy quietly croons about his days as a teenage stoner who “always hated those normal American kids” over low-strummed guitar. At a time when the definition of what it means to be American is just as elastic as the definition of “normal,” Tweedy questions it all using wholly American songwriting tropes: malaise, rebellion, and nostalgia. — DM

The Wild Reeds, Best Wishes, “What I Had In Mind”

It’s one thing to have a bandleader with a killer voice. It’s another to have members in the group capable of backing that one standout singer with precise harmonies. But what happens when you have three singers capable of taking the lead? Look no further than Los Angeles band the Wild Reeds for the answer to that question. On “What I Had in Mind,” a gut-wrencher from this year’s three-song release Best Wishes, things start out low-key enough: steady strumming behind a lone, sweet vocal. But, by three minutes into the song, these robust three-part harmonies will have successfully worked even the most stoic listeners into a full-on emotional frenzy. The ebb and flow they foster makes the parting line feel all the more lonely, whether you relate to the lyric or the sound itself: “My hope was strong, but overpowered by a boy whose faith was swallowed by his doubt.” — DO

MIXTAPE: WDVX’s Radio Un-Friendly Favorites

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As Music Director at WDVX, a large part of my job deals with previewing new releases and selecting which songs will receive airplay at the station. We broadcast on the FM band and are obliged to adhere to FCC guidelines regarding language and decency. In my position, there’s nothing worse than getting a couple of minutes into an amazing new song and having one four-letter word completely derail any chances of that song ever making it on the air. What follows is a list of some of my favorite songs that I can never share with you on the radio. — Nelson Gullett

Lydia Loveless — “Longer”

This song from Lydia’s new album is the one that started me down the path of putting this list together. I first heard the album version of it a few hours before I was scheduled to host a new music show on WDVX. I immediately loved the song and was heartbroken when I came to the lyric that raised the FCC flag. Fortunately, Bloodshot Records always sends radio stations a “clean” version of all of Lydia’s records, and this song — a version of it, at least — is currently spinning at the station.

Lucinda Williams — “Essence”

I should state that I am not personally offended by any of the songs on this list. To the contrary, I applaud any artist who has the conviction to use the precise language in a song that will carry their message and get their point across … regardless of what that does to their radio prospects. Lucinda Williams is a master of conveying emotion and desperation in her songs. Any phrase other than the one she uses here, would have robbed this song of a certain degree of power behind those emotions. There is no need for Lucinda to pull any punches.

Kathleen Edwards — “What Are You Waiting For?”

In many ways, Kathleen Edwards is a very similar artist to Lucinda. There’s often an edge to her writing that feels very earnest and genuine. Here, Kathleen’s exasperation leads her to a point where her exclamation feels fully earned. Like Lucinda, any phrase other than the one she uses would dull the impact of the song.

Greensky Bluegrass — “Windshield”

In contrast to the previous two songs, I do sometimes get a little peeved when I feel like the language that excludes a song from airplay could have just as easily been left out. This is the opening track (and lead single) on Greensky Bluegrass’ 2014 album, If Sorrows Could Swim. The first verse contains a usage of the f-bomb that seems as though it was just wedged into the lyric to add a couple of beats in order to fit the words to the measure. I’ll admit that it did sour my initial impressions of the band and the album. Fortunately, we found plenty of other songs from the album that worked for our station, and the band has done very well on our airwaves.

Todd Snider — “In the Beginning”

Rule number one with any new Todd Snider record that comes to the station: “Read the lyric sheet before playing on the radio.” Todd is a noted offender of offensive language rules and generally requires a little extra screening. When it came our way in 2012, six of the ten songs off Todd’s Agnostic Hymns & Stoner Fables album were deemed too hot for WDVX for various reasons. This is one of them.

Hayes Carll — “She Left Me for Jesus”

It isn’t always explicit language that keeps a song off our airwaves. Sometimes content comes into play, as well. Knoxville is squarely located in the Bible Belt, and we do typically try to stay away from polarizing political or religious topics. Hayes Carll’s tone in this tune is fully tongue-in-cheek, but given the controversy surrounding this song upon its release — and having a feel for how portions of our audience might react to it — we left it off our playlist. Incidentally, this song was named Song of the Year at the 2008 Americana Music Awards. I voted for it.

James McMurtry — “We Can’t Make It Here”

The other Song of the Year winner to never make it to air at WDVX is this 2006 winner from James McMurtry. (I voted for it, too.) This one falls a bit into the polarizing political statement category, having been released squarely in the middle of President George W. Bush’s final term. Ultimately, though, it was language usage rather than legislative leanings that kept us away from this one.

Ryan Adams — “Come Pick Me Up”

This is my favorite Ryan Adams song. Always has been. I don’t know if it’s the loping banjo, or Kim Richey’s backing vocals, or just the sheer languidness of it all … but something about this song has always spoken to me. It certainly can’t be the profanity-laced chorus. Nah … that can’t be it at all.

Gillian Welch — “Revelator”

Full disclosure: I have played this song on the radio many, many times. I listened to it over and over before I ever realized that Gillian slipped in the word she slips in about four minutes into the tune. It wasn’t until I saw Chris Thile and Nickel Creek sing this live a couple years after its release that I actually heard what was always there. I don’t know if Chris enunciated better than Gillian or if I just didn’t want to believe that Gillian says what she says. It sounds completely obvious to me now, but back then …

The Baseball Project — “Ted Fucking Williams”

I love baseball. I love Scott McCaughey, Mike Mills, and Peter Buck. Ted Williams is the “Greatest Hitter that Ever Lived.” I love this song. I can’t play this song for obvious reasons.

Monty Python’s Flying Circus — “I Bet You They Won’t Play This Song on the Radio”

Just for fun … This song from Monty Python and Eric Idle has been running through my head ever since I agreed to write this.

7 New MyMusicRx Videos with Brett Dennen, John Moreland, River Whyless, and More

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Children's Cancer Association is a Portland-based non-profit organization dedicated to bringing joy to seriously ill children and their families. Through a number of programs, CCA has provided laughter and love to countless families battling pediatric cancer and other life-threatening illnesses. One of those programs, MyMusicRx, uses the healing power of music to connect sick children with concerts, music lessons, games, and more, the bulk of which is available at MyMusicRx.org.

Through MyMusicRx, CCA produces SongRxs, "song prescriptions" performed by popular artists and filmed at music festivals like Newport Folk, SXSW, and Sasquatch. We're happy to premiere seven new SongRxs from some of our favorite artists. Learn more about CCA, the MyMusicRx program, and how you can donate right here.

Brett Dennen, "If I Had a Boat" (Lyle Lovett cover)

Nicki Bluhm and the Infamous Stringdusters, "In the Mountains" (Sarah Siskind cover)

John Moreland, "Gospel"

Phil Cook and Amelia Meath, "Take Your Burden to the Lord" (traditional hymn)

Hayes Carll, "The Magic Kid"

River Whyless, "All Day All Night" 

The Oh Hellos, "In Memoriam" 

Get Off Your Ass: July Won’t Wait Forever

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Sarah Jarosz & Sara Watkins // Hollywood Bowl // July 1

The Dustbowl Revival // Levitt Pavilion // July 2

Joe Pug // Echo // July 7

Lyle Lovett & Emmylou Harris // Greek Theatre // July 10

Chris Thile // The Theatre at Ace Hotel // July 20

Dixie Chicks // Irvine Meadows // July 20

Hayes Carll & Luke Bell // Teragram Ballroom // July 21

Billy Strings // Levitt Pavilion // July 22

Jim Lauderdale // McCabe's Guitar Shop // July 24

Joseph // Fig at 7th // July 29

Buckwheat Zydeco // The Mint // July 30

Honeyhoney // The Troubadour // July 30

Marcus Blacke // The Basement // July 1

Mary Gauthier // The Bluebird Café // July 2

Brandy Clark // Riverfront Park // July 3

Robert Ellis // 3rd & Lindsley // July 3

Sheryl Crow, Ruby Amanfu, & Andrew Combs // Ascend Amphitheater/Riverfront Park // July 4

Chris Stapleton // Nissan Stadium // July 9

Leon Russell // City Winery // July 10

Andrew Leahey & the Homestead // The 5 Spot // July 12

Gary Clark, Jr. // Ascend Amphitheater // July 16

Sam Lewis // Acme Feed & Seed // July 16

Sarah Jarosz // Station Inn // July 21

John Moreland // The Basement East // July 29

Colvin & Earle // 92nd Street Y // July 13

Drive-By Truckers // Brookfield Place // July 13

Ray Wylie Hubbard // Hill Country Barbecue // July 13

Earls of Leicester // City Winery // July 14

Deer Tick, Margo Price, & Anais Mitchell // Hudson RiverStage // July 16

The Wood Brothers & Hiss Golden Messenger // Prospect Park Bandshell // July 16

Buddy Guy // Theater at Madison Square Garden // July 20

Ryan Adams // Central Park // July 20

Alabama Shakes // Randall's Island // July 22

The Wild Reeds // Union Pool // July 23

The Cactus Blossoms // Rough Trade // July 26

case/lang/veirs // Prospect Park Bandshell // July 26

Get Off Your Ass: May Is Upon Us

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The Cactus Blossoms // Echo // May 1

Luke Bell // Echoplex // May 1

Jackson Browne // Thousand Oaks Civic Arts Plaza // May 3

Chris Pureka // The Satellite // May 12

John Prine with Jason Isbell and Amanda Shires // Greek Theatre // May 13

Richard Thompson // Teragram Ballroom // May 14

Andrew Bird // The Theatre at Ace Hotel // May 14-15

Joseph Arthur // Troubadour // May 16

Damien Jurado // Troubadour // May 18

Tim O'Brien // McCabe's Guitar Shop // May 22

Petunia & the Vipers // El Cid // May 26

Brett Dennen // El Rey Theatre // May 27

Punch Brothers // Schermerhorn Symphony Center // May 2

Bonnie Raitt // Ryman Auditorium // May 3-4

Charles Bradley // Exit/In // May 4

The Avett Brothers // Bridgestone Arena // May 6

Lucinda Williams // Ryman Auditorium // May 8

Hayes Carll // The Basement East // May 11

Fruition // Exit/In // May 12

Old Crow Medicine Show // Country Music Hall of Fame // May 12-13

Dale Watson // Nashville Palace // May 13

Dylan Fest featuring Jason Isbell, Emmylou Harris, Kacey Musgraves, Holly Williams, Nikki Lane, Rayland Baxter, Ruby Amanfu, Amanda Shires, Cory Chisel, Robert Ellis, and more  // Ryman Auditorium // May 23-24

Billy Joe Shaver // City Winery // May 28

Will Hoge // City Winery // May 29

Carrie Rodriguez // National Sawdust, Brooklyn // May 1

Mary Chapin Carpenter // 92nd Street Y // May 1

Delta Rae // Bowery Ballroom // May 2

Elephant Revival and Ben Sollee // Bowery Ballroom // May 4

M. Ward // Webster Hall // May 4

James Taylor // Carnegie Hall // May 5

Joan Osborne // City Winery // May 8

Loudon Wainwright III and Iris Dement // Tarrytown Music Hall // May 13

Graham Nash // Town Hall // May 14

Parsonsfield // Mercury Lounge // May 20

Lindsay Lou & the Flat Bellys and Ana Egge // Rockwood Music Hall, Stage 2 // May 24

Roosevelt Dime & the Bruce Harris Orchestra // National Sawdust // May 29

Keeping the Door Open: A Conversation with Hayes Carll

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When last the world heard from Hayes Carll, he was stomping and hollering his way through 2011's KMAG YOYO (& Other American Stories). But five years can change a man. Hell, five minutes can change a man who has the heart of a poet that Carll does. That's why, on his new Lovers and Leavers release, he eschews the pomp and circumstance of records past. In their stead, he and producer Joe Henry gently placed honesty and honor, introspection and intention. The result won't rise above a barroom din, but it'll certainly sink into a listener's heart.

Between KMAG and Lovers, a lot has happened in your own life and the world around you. What's the one thing, though, that made the biggest difference in you and your music?

I don't know if there's one thing. I can just say that I changed. [Laughs] A lot happened in a lot of different parts of my life. My personal life had a lot to do with it. My marriage ended. That sort of forced me to take stock of where I was in my life and what was going on, and that influenced everything around me. I turned 40, which felt significant, in a way, in that I'd been living a certain kind of life for a really long time and kind of looked up one day and asked myself, “Is this how I want to live? Is this the kind of artist I want to be?” and just took stock of all that. That all influenced the record that I made.

Outside of that, in the world-at-large, I don't know that it influenced anything that I did, but it feels like people are appreciating an honest, sincere songwriter in a way that … that sounds really boring, but … [Laughs] “I don't know if I want to go to that show. He's honest and sincere. Yuck!” [Laughs]

But there's so much bullshit in the world right now that, when you find something that's a little bit True … capital “t” True …

Yeah. Yeah. Something with some authenticity to it. I do think that goes a long way. And maybe people are responding to it in a way that they haven't of late. I see a lot of writers and singers who are doing really well, and I think people are connecting with how they put their work out into the world.

Jason Isbell pops immediately to mind.

Yeah, absolutely.

Like him on Southeastern, you didn't give yourself a whole lot to hide behind on this one, sonically or lyrically.

That was a real conscious choice. I always had given myself something to hide behind. I always kind of couched my serious moments with humor or with musical pomposity. I never felt comfortable being that exposed. I think it had a lot to do with how I came up playing to crowds … you start out in these bars where, if you didn't get their attention, if you couldn't make them laugh or get them dancing, you didn't get the gig or you got something thrown at you.

So I always had this mix, as a performer and as a writer, that I was aware of both things. I aspired to be Townes [Van Zandt] or [Kris] Kristofferson and be able to capture people in a certain way, but I also felt a real need to make sure that people didn't lose interest. I think I was always a little insecure about whether my words and voice, alone, were enough to keep people there. So I always felt that — whether it was onstage and connecting to them through stories or jokes, or in the music being as super-varied as my limitations would allow.

I've seen you in a few different settings, and a song like “Beaumont” always goes over really well. So I think your fans have been with you on the poet side, as well as on the cowboy side.

Yeah, I've been lucky. I have a pretty broad fan base. I've tried to never pigeon-hole myself. Whether it was playing the Texas country scene or honky-tonks across the country or going over to Europe or playing the listening rooms and folk rooms or working with people outside of my respective genre, I never wanted to feel like, career-wise, that I was stuck somewhere. I always wanted to have options. The job is too cool to go out every night and feel bored or feel like you have to do the same thing every night. So I always wanted to be able to keep that door open.

With this record, I realized that, if I wanted to make a record like this, now was the time … because, if you don't do it and show that side of yourself at some point, then it gets harder and harder for people to accept it. It was where I was at in my life and where I was at creatively, and it just made sense to me. I thought, “Whether anybody likes this or not, it's the record I need to make and it will change where I'm at, and it's reflective of my search for connecting onstage every night and what I want my life to be like.” So, for this moment in time, that was what I needed to do. It feels weird. It feels naked.

The obvious way to look at songs is that they reflect their writer. But you can also turn that lens around, right? Do you sometimes feel like you want to reflect — or maybe even live up to — something you've written?

I think I've, at times, written to a certain audience. I've written mostly just for myself about where I was at, but I've also written individual songs or just a style that I wanted to keep open for myself. I think I've written, at times, for what I wanted my performances to be and what I wanted my career to be.

I love playing honky-tonks. I love having 1,000 people at a rock club going nuts. But I very much value my ability to go play solo in a listening room and have a completely different experience. That's kept me engaged, kept me alive. That's, honestly, how I feel most connected and comfortable as a performer, because I don't need to rely on a bottle of whiskey. I don't need to rely on volume. It's me, a guitar, and these songs. They either hold up or they don't, but I have a much more immediate understanding of whether it's working or not when I'm in a more stripped-down setting.

And to make a record that reflects that … yes, it's emotional and it's creative, but it's also a little bit practical because that's job security, if you know you can always go out and play your songs solo or you know that you can make a pretty simple recording. Those are the records that stand up and become classics for the generations.

A couple of years ago, I realized that, whatever happens — whether I become a big alt-country star or whatever — that I've got a collection of songs and I'll continue to write, and worst case — and it's not all that bad of a case scenario — I can go do house concerts and folk rooms and there will be some group of people that is drawn to that music. I think maybe even more than the financial side, I just wanted to keep that open for myself. And I needed to do it now or it might not ever happen.

I always talked about having a sonically cohesive record that was a songwriter record, that was sparse, and I'd never quite done it. I'd make attempts at it, but then I would cover it up with a joke or some bombastic rock and never just let that stand on its own. I'd always, I guess, been scared to put that out there. Maybe I didn't have faith that that was enough for me, and I needed to prove to myself that it was.

So that's why I'm excited about this record. There's no single on there. It's not going to get any radio play. It's not anything people are going to play at a party. There's nothing to dance to — all these things that I could kind of peg, like, “Okay, I've got that covered and that covered and that covered.” It's sparse and emotional and personal and intimate. But listening to that and not pulling people off in other ways can get you into a headspace, as a listener, that you can't get, necessarily, if you're jumping all over the place. I'm trying to have trust that this can work. So I did it. And, whether anybody likes it or not, I'm proud of the record. That probably doesn't sound like that big a deal to a lot of people, but for me, it was important to be able to take that step, creatively and artistically.

As you were writing, instead of checking off the things you wanted, were you checking in with yourself and checking off the things you didn't want? Like, “Oh, I just habitually took this song there and I need to pull it back.”

I don't know, as I was writing, how conscious I was of that because I wrote a lot of stuff that is completely incompatible with this record. I had a lot of those things that are funny or rocking or even were more subtle but just didn't feel like they were part of this story. There are very few songs I can think of where I sat down and said, “Okay, I'm going to write for this record.” I was just writing.

And they emerged as a group?

Yeah. Themes started showing themselves. I've never been able to sit down and write thematically. I've never had the attention span to stay consistent about it. There were definitely things I was writing about in my life, here, that came out. But there were also songs I'd written before a lot of this happened that sort of fit that narrative and that part of the story, though that was not my goal when I wrote them, initially. But I'd look at them and go, “I thought it was this one thing, but it actually fits really well with what I'm doing here.”

Setting aside music as your own artistic outlet, what role does it play in the Life of Hayes? Friend? Therapist? Pastor?

It's been all of those things — and none of them — at times. It sort of depends when you catch me. Certainly, growing up, it was my teacher, my inspiration. It was my joy. It was this very mystical, foreign thing. I grew up in the suburbs and these people I was listening to, particularly the songwriters — [Bob] Dylan, Kristofferson — they took me to another place, far from where I was, and that was something that I really needed. I struggled to find my identity and an ability to articulate some of the things that I had on my mind. A lot of these guys did all that for me. They gave me some kind of identity. I felt a connection with them. I felt, “These are my people.” And it moved me. I got into Townes. There's music that can affect your life in such a deep and powerful way that everything else seems trivial.

Something I've struggled with a little bit over the years is that I have that connection to writers like that and, then, I have a connection to Chuck Berry and Jimmy Buffett. There are a lot of different elements and that hodgepodge has kind of made up my style, for most of my career. But, yeah, it can turn my day around, for sure, and keep me going.

When I interviewed Lee Ann Womack last year, she commented that sometimes she feels guilty connecting herself to you through recording “Chances Are,” and she thinks, “I hope Hayes doesn't mind that I cut his song.” Various award nominations later, may we assume that you, in fact, do not mind too much?

[Smiles] Yeah, we're talking again now. [Laughs] I was honored that she recorded it.

It's done pretty well for the two of you.

Yeah. To have the life that it's had with the Grammy nominations was completely unexpected for me. It was very cool. It took a lot for it to set in when I got the news. I thought, “Okay. Yeah. Fine.” I had sort of trained myself to not care about these things. I didn't even know when the Grammys were being announced. I had no idea it was a possibility. I have tried to distance myself from needing those things. So, when it happened, I was like, “Oh, yeah. It's no big deal.” Then, as I started getting congratulations from family and friends, and seeing the reaction that this news had on them, I started feeling like, “Oh, this is significant.” And not that it validated me for myself, but it was important to a lot of people who are important to me.

So, anyway, I'm honored that Lee Ann cut it and couldn't have been happier with its life.

So maybe you'll let her have another one at some point?

Yeah. Yeah. Absolutely. I just did a tour with Aubrie [Sellers, Womack's daughter]. Hopefully, Lee Ann and I can play together some day.

I met Lee Ann up in Colorado in Steamboat Springs. There's a little country festival up there. I remember I was sitting in this room, like a suite, and a bunch of my friends were up there playing and picking. I played “Beaumont,” and there was this little person with a hat pulled over, in a chair, legs up in the chair … I had no idea who it was. And she goes, “That's a really cool song.” Or something to that effect. I went, “Thanks … whoever you are …”

[Laughs] “… little hidden troll in a hat.”

[Laughs] Yeah. I didn't put it that way! Then it was, “Hayes, meet Lee Ann.” And we got to do a thing here in Nashville with Sirius XM and [Bobby] Bare, Jr. and Bobby Braddock and Lee Ann, which was super-cool. He played “He Stopped Loving Her Today” and Lee Ann sang “Chances Are.” It was the first time I got to hear it, sitting right next to her.

Photo credit: Jacob Blickenstaff