Somethin’ About Train Songz

What first began as a locomotive and string music meme page has transformed into one of the most quirky and beloved sources of independent journalism in roots music, one zine at a time.

Founded by Anthony “The Conductor” Perasso and James “Promontory Paul” Lucey in July 2023, Train Songz has since grown its community to over 28,000 Instagram followers and more than 1,200 paid subscribers. Readers collectively contribute anywhere from $33-$99 per year (or $11 per copy), with three to four issues published per year. The latest, eighth edition features a 44-page interview with Billy Strings’ bassist Royal Masat.

The interview for Masat is a full circle moment for Train Songz, which began with a Billy-centric focus before expanding to feature other bluegrass acts like Mountain Grass Unit, East Nash Grass, and Valley Flower. In fact, it was a Billy Strings show in Bridgeport, Connecticut, attended by Train Songz co-founders (that they rode the train to themselves, no less) where the concept for the then-meme page first came together.

“At the show Billy was wearing a hickory-striped railroad hat that someone (who we’ve since connected with on Instagram) threw up on stage a few shows prior, as trains were passing by the stage,” recalls Perasso.

“I tweeted from my personal account a photo of Billy with the hat on and the caption ‘Train Songz,’ which was a Trey Songz pun – like if Trey Songz is Trey Songz, then Billy Strings is Train Songz,” Perasso laughs. “Four days later, I locked down the @train_songz username and posted our first meme.”

After publishing some popular Billy and Grateful Dead inspired memes, Train Songz began transitioning to a zine in December 2023, while Perasso was home for the holidays and more sedentary than usual after recovering from multiple surgeries. No stranger to producing print media, having previously worked on a satirical newspaper while in college, he says the zine quickly filled a void left empty since graduating in 2017. Now two years in with eight installments of the printed zine, Train Songz has grown into a thriving community bigger and wilder than Perasso, Lucey, and the rest of the core team – including Liza Chaplin (art/design) and Mitchell “Brakeman” Harbin (writer/editor) – could have ever imagined.

Original artwork by Morganne Allen from ‘Train Songz’ Vol. 7, Summer 2025.

“Beyond my personal penchant for print, Train Songz was gathering a community of wooden-instrument-music enjoyers, so print felt like a natural extension of that vibration,” Perasso continues. “And from a more boring media strategy point of view, print (and email!) offers you a direct relationship with your audience that algorithms can’t get in the way of and platforms can’t take away. So for both those reasons, a Train Songz zine felt like a perfect move.”

After wrapping up production on the eighth installment of the zine, the Train Songz crew spoke with BGS via Zoom about the zine’s origins, how they first discovered Billy Strings, the publication’s next steps for growth, and more.

Y’all use pen names in the zine (except for Liza). How did each of you come up with your alter egos?

James Lucey: Before I get to that, I’ll just add that leading up to this interview we all debated if we should do this as ourselves or go by our pen names. It’s been an interesting dynamic, [navigating] who are we in relationship to the zine [and] what the zine is in relationship to us and our audience. We made the zine to try and participate in some way in the broader conversation about modern-day bluegrass music; we’re not the face of the zine, we’re just the people that are powering it.

But regarding my pen name, “Promontory Paul,” he’s the voice of the Old Tune Review, which is one of the core pieces of the zine. In it we pick a handful of old songs [and] dive deep into [their] history through independent research. It’s born out of the idea that these old songs are still being played today and still resonate in some way. In some ways it’s like a time machine, because you’re feeling the same emotions that someone felt hundreds of years ago when they wrote these things. So it’s cool to dive in and see what the actual genesis of those songs are.

[Paul’s] the guy who runs that, but we also feature him in a little recurring cartoon series that sees him playing banjo and getting into all kinds of crazy adventures. “Promontory” is a reference to the Promontory Summit, which was the final completion [point] of the first transcontinental railroad in Utah, when the Union Pacific Railroad and the Central Pacific Railroads (which had been building from Nebraska and Sacramento, respectively) finally met.

This effectively connected the old world with the new one, sort of like what we do with the zine.

Mitchell Harbin: My name actually came out of the fact that a brakeman is a role on an actual train – he’s the guy that pulls the brakes. It was actually during the production of the zine’s third issue that I had come aboard to help with proofreading and copy editing. There were a couple of times in that process where James and Anthony were like, “Alright, we’re good to go, ready to launch” and I would pump the brakes and say, “Whoa, hold up.” Which is what eventually spawned the name idea.

Liza Chaplin: I’m still working on mine. [Laughs] It’s an ongoing thing that I’ve been thinking about, but so far I haven’t gotten anywhere with it. At first I decided to put my own name on it to use as a portfolio-building mechanism, but now with how the zine has grown it feels very silly to still have my actual name on it.

Anthony Perasso: “The Conductor” came to be when James and I were talking about taking the meme page offline [and moving] into print form with our first issue. We made a decision that Train Songz was the name of the publication and brand and community – or whatever vibration of people who value the same kind of music as we do, cultivating this eponymous meme page.

As the person who had started the meme page, I didn’t want Train Songz to be seen as an individual, as in, “That’s Anthony, he’s Train Songz.” Our desired outcome would be: “That’s Anthony, he’s The Conductor for Train Songz.” That allowed Train Songz [to be] less a single being and more of a vehicle for those involved. Pun intended. (A mentor even recommended to me that the title of The Conductor be something that can be passed on from individual to individual, like the Pope or the President. Time will tell if we get to that point!)

A Billy Strings train songs data visualization from ‘Train Songz’ Vol. 5, fall 2024.

What was Promontory Paul’s role in this latest issue of Train Songz given its focus on the Royal interview?

AP: Paul’s column still exists in the newest zine, but he went about it in a really cool way. The idea began with our third edition, when we gave Promontory Paul an entire section to write about old bluegrass songs regularly covered by the likes of Billy, the Sam Grisman Project, and whatever other bands we listened to or saw live that quarter. So we’d cite where we heard it played before diving into a history lesson and where it came from.

Then, for this issue with Royal, we took that Old Tune Review and instead of songs we heard out in the wild made it all about songs that he mentioned during the interview. Throughout the interview there are little interjections from Promontory Paul – almost like Clippy, the office assistant on Microsoft Word. It’s been fun to take these gimmicks that worked for us a year ago and apply them to the restrictions presented by this long-form interview. Royal gave us so much that we wanted to give him the entire issue, but we’re still going to sprinkle in the ethos of what our readers are familiar with and what we like to do, which is to connect something that’s happening in the present day – like the recent Billy Strings and Bryan Sutton tour with Royal – to the past. It’s been really fun connecting with folks like that through the zine. It’s almost like Paul’s on a time-traveling train or something. [Laughs]

We send surveys out to our subscribers after publishing each issue and Promontory Paul’s history lessons are always towards the top when it comes to [readers’] favorite parts of the zine. It’s also been a cool way to make note of the fact that it’s not just us behind the scenes who are enjoying this. It really speaks to how much we respect the audience that we have and how that drives us to create the best issue possible every quarter.

 

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A post shared by Royal Masat (@royalmasat)

I saw recently that Royal left a copy of Train Songz #7 at the NPR Tiny Desk following the session he recorded there with Billy. What did seeing that mean to y’all?

AP: He’s been a follower of ours for a long time and brought that copy of the zine to NPR on his own after reaching out to us to subscribe about a year ago. We knew he’d been reading along for a while, so once this tour came up with him, Bryan, and Billy, it just seemed like the perfect thing for the zine to cover. It was important for us to capture the combination of old and new in those shows dedicated to Doc and Merle Watson and T. Michael Coleman and featured the King of arena-grass playing these smaller rooms of 400 to [2,200] people with one of the most preeminent guitarists alive in Bryan Sutton.

It took us a second to come around to the idea, because we’ve been very cautious about not becoming a Billy Strings-exclusive fan zine. We want to serve the broader ecosystem, but that tour was something we couldn’t pass up, especially with Royal being a reader. Once we did reach out, he blew us out of the water with the time he put into it. His interview with Mitchell ended up being over 4,000 words that he sent us by email after wrapping up a tour in Europe. Once that wrapped I remember him sending us a literal tome – he took it very seriously and his responses were so thoughtful.

The final result almost looks like a children’s book with the way Liza designed it. None of that would be possible without our paying supporters, who make it possible for us to work with the 17 artists we partnered with on this issue to bring it even more to life with quirky illustrations that tie back to things Royal said, like throwing in an illustration of a medieval horse with a knight in shining armor where Royal refers to his bass as his trusty steed. I like to refer to what she does as “Andy Warhol-ing.” [Laughs]

Inset artwork by Sara Dennis from the 8th and most recent edition of ‘Train Songz.’

I know you just mentioned not wanting to become exclusively a Billy Strings fan zine. However, I’m curious to hear when and how y’all first encountered his music?

LC: The first time I saw Billy was at RiverRock, a free festival on Brown’s Island in Richmond in 2019 before he blew up. I had heard of him prior to that, but after seeing him live I became absolutely mesmerized. I didn’t like bluegrass for the longest time, but something clicked with me when I saw Billy and was like, “Oh, this is what I want to keep following and chasing.”

MH: In college, I was a huge Deadhead and Phish fan and was consumed by the jam world. Then I heard about Billy on some Facebook groups and message boards, talking about how he covers The Dead really well.

I moved to Boston shortly thereafter and the first month I was living there Billy played at the Wang Theater. I wound up buying a ticket and went without having listened to his music at all beforehand and was absolutely blown away. To me, it was like a psychedelic Dead or Phish show combined with bluegrass, which in hindsight probably hit on the homesickness I was feeling at the time, because I had been around bluegrass before, but wasn’t really interested in it when I was living in the South. From there, I jumped down the rabbit hole into more old-time bluegrass, which is when I started playing the music myself. So I attribute my musical pursuits now to that moment and think that is probably true of other people, too.

JL: I remember [going down] a YouTube [rabbit] hole in 2020 and coming across a set of Billy playing Doc Watson tunes. It may have been Royal’s first gig with him. I just so happened to be in a bit of a bluegrass moment at the time I found that video of Billy and was instantly hooked, resulting in me digging even deeper. I was already a Deadhead as well, so I loved his covers of those songs too. Then I worked my way to his original stuff – which is also sick – and I have YouTube to thank for it!

AP: I remember James, “Promontory Paul,” showing me Billy for the first time. Like most of the bands I like, I channel my music taste through him. When we first got into him there was still a lot of remote work going on, so we’d listen to Billy while doing that or even while we were playing games like Fortnite. I started listening to a lot of The Dead in order to try to get to the point where I could listen and name the year the show came from. But over time Billy started taking more and more of the market share of my listening time away from the “What year is this Grateful Dead show from?” project.

What are your next steps for continuing to grow Train Songz?

AP: We occasionally host concerts (the next one is February 12, 2026 with The Asheville Mountain Boys), and have captured audio recordings – which we call Tiny Train Sessions – in the past, but we look at them more as a marketing tactic than a growth mechanism.

My day job is a social media manager and doing that I’ve noticed that the best way to get a lot of views on Instagram is to post reels, because they [are served] to non-followers and new followers first. We could post a bunch of concert clips and other things to build our audience, but we intentionally opted to not do that because we’re firm believers that things that grow slow last a long time. We don’t want to gatekeep or make it hard to find us, but rather [hope folks will] find us organically through a friend sharing one of our memes or sending you a copy of the zine itself. I want the first point of contact to be someone who’s already within our ecosystem that really digs it and turns you onto it, one person at a time.


All visuals, artwork, and zine scans courtesy of Train Songz. Learn more about artists Morganne Allen and Sara Dennis.

Lindsay Lou Conquers Personal Challenges on New Album, ‘Queen of Time’

With the September release of her album Queen of Time, Nashville artist Lindsay Lou takes listeners beyond a creative journey – it’s more like a long, strange, and satisfying trip, where her “radical truth” conquers all.

A former bluegrass songsmith with roots in groups like her former backing band, the Flatbellys, and Sweet Water Warblers, Lou’s Queen of Time marks the start of another new solo chapter and follows a rough time in her life filled with earthquakes of change. She both lost a grandmother who was pivotal to her development and experienced the end of a marriage – all while her career picked up steam. But, through those endings came a new beginning. One where she better understood her place in the universe, both spiritually and musically.

On Queen of Time, Lou welcomes herself to that new identity (and all who care to follow), doing so with a fresh sound and some old friends. Featuring Billy Strings and Jerry Douglas, 11 thought-provoking tracks infuse her bluegrass roots with atmospheric folk, back-porch psychedelia, and more, as lyrics and voice weave together into something like a sonic dreamcatcher – snatching ethereal truths from the cosmos and translating them in ways the mind can just begin to process.

Recently, Lou spoke with BGS about this heady transformation, working with her friends, and how her “teacher-turned-Rainbow-Gathering-healer” of a grandma helped shape her radical spirituality.

BGS: Tell me how you’re feeling about music making these days? I know this album comes after a lot of change in your life, personally and professionally. Has the way you feel about making music changed, too?

Lindsay Lou: It felt like the most freeing recording endeavor that I have ever set out on. Working with [producer] Dave O’Donnell was really great. He held a ton of space for me creatively and emotionally and just in all the ways. So it was really nice. I brought in all of my friends, and what drew me to music to begin with was jams that my family would have, so feeling among my chosen family, being able to bring in the people who I’ve been jamming with in living rooms and on stages for the last several years, was really, really sweet.

Honestly, I’m feeling really inspired and just really happy about music. All of the tours have felt like they were in really good flow, and spiritually, it just feels very open and satisfying. I sort of blew up my life a few years ago, and the last three years or so I’ve been gestating and rebuilding my path. It was rebuilding on the foundation I had laid down with the Flatbellys and the Warblers, so it wasn’t out of nowhere, but it felt like there was a lot of unknown – and there were times where I felt there’s just some fear that goes into it. But now I’m on the cusp of watching all of this be born and come to life, and it feels so good. It’s like everything that I could have hoped for. 

Seeing the record in the hands of people and hearing all the stories they send me about how it’s touched their lives has been very, very fulfilling. And I’m watching the album chart and watching different things on the horizon, different gigs and stuff – it’s just really inspiring, and I feel really excited to follow this new path that I’ve laid out for myself. 

You don’t always get that payoff when your life blows up, so congrats! Tell me a little bit about the imagery behind the Queen of Time theme. You’re asking the listener if they know who they really are – did that come from an epiphany you had?

It definitely came from an epiphany and the ongoing question and journey of self-discovery, because it’s something you never achieve. It’s just a journey you’re always on. The imagery [for the song “Queen of Time”] was definitely from Absolem, the caterpillar from Alice in Wonderland. He challenges Alice, “Who are you?” And it was less about who she was and more about who she identified as, because we contain multitudes. So this is a broad and complex question, and as I’ve been playing it, the song has sort of come to life and revealed itself to me in new and unexpected ways. I always love that with songs.

You start the album off with this refrain saying, “I don’t need the world to hear me / I’m singing and nothing else matters.” What’s the significance of that to you?

I guess it’s just acknowledging the personal relationship. I always say that the voice is a window to the soul, but a lot of people have this horrible trauma that they carry with them – that they’re not a good singer and that they don’t have a good voice, and so they don’t ever sing. I feel so much grief thinking about people not even singing to themselves. In my darkest hour, the most soothing thing that I have found to do is to sing to myself. And it’s not because I think that I have the greatest voice, it’s because singing actually releases endorphins in your mind. It’s like a physiological truth that the experience of singing is medicinal and it’s a form of meditation. 

The obvious interpretation of that is that as career musicians, you’re always wanting more people to hear you and wanting your fan base to expand. But at the end of the day, the reason that I sing and I think the reason anyone sings, is because it is a magical and medicinal way of expressing your soul, your spirit, your inner truth. So just remembering that value that I don’t need to be anywhere to let my voice ring and to connect with my own soul in that way, that’s really the most powerful thing.

I know your grandmother had a big part in influencing the record. But on top of everything else she was to you, did she also help you get into music?

I guess in a roundabout way, she did. Her greatest influence on me was spiritually. She was a preacher woman, and she lived her life the best that she could in the literal footstep of Jesus. So she took everyone in and she welcomed everyone. She was always preaching that [unless] you have not sinned, don’t cast the first stone and really strongly believed that no one will be left behind. Like if God said the greatest commandment was to love God and to love your brother, then she spent her whole life practicing that. Now, I call myself a praying atheist. I don’t necessarily connect with any institution of religion, but I do connect with the practice of spirituality and of love. Even Christianity says that God is love. So in my mind it’s like, “Well, then let’s just get right to the heart of the matter and call it love!” If we’re living in love and if we’re thinking critically and we’re following our radical truth, then we’re doing it right. 

Was music a part of your childhood?

[My grandmother] had 12 children and she surrounded herself with hippies and counterculture. And her husband – the father of her 12 children – was a musician. He played the trumpet and he sang, so they always sang to their children, and the songs that she sang to them, they sang to their children. So I heard all the gospel songs that she sang to my mom, because my mom sang them to me, and there’s been various forms of family bands throughout the generations of all of her children. The older kids had a rock band, and they would get together and sing gospel songs in harmony and Beatles songs and folk songs, and the younger kids formed bands with the older cousins. There was just always music around, so I think she just held space for music.

She sounds like an amazing person. Is that her voice in the phone conversations you put on “Love Calls”?

Yeah. I played that song for a couple of my friends before she was in it. There was this long expansive jam and my girlfriends listening to it were like, “We want more Lou here.” I thought, “Well, what version of Lou makes sense to go there?” And it dawned on me that it was the version of Lou that interviewed grandma. I interviewed my grandma on the one hand to sort of preserve her radical life story for posterity. And on the other hand, as a way of knowing myself. I’ve collected about 27 hours of her telling me her life story and how she came to believe what she believes. It’s a little bit foggy now, but I had an idea of what story I wanted to put there, and once that conversation was in there, the song had the context that it was calling for.

What was the context?

The song is about someone being a guide of love for someone else. And the conversation is her telling me the story of meeting someone at a rainbow gathering who she had a conversation with, and later found out that that conversation talked them out of suicide. Many parts of this record came together in the context of me witnessing suicides in my music community, and addiction and mental health struggles. And pretty much all of my music goes back to that in some way, because of where I came from and the world that I see around me.

Other songs have that through line to it too, right? Like “Nothing’s Working”? I know you worked with Billy Strings on that one, how did it come together? 

He and I get together every once in a while to write and we had gotten together and started that song. He had just been hanging out with Bryan Sutton and had this open B shape thing in his head that he started to play along with, and he was talking to me about Ionia – the town that he grew up in. He had just seen so many people get a job and try to make all the right decisions and try to always do the right thing, and just end up with nothing to show for it, because they’re stuck in a system that doesn’t support them and wasn’t built for them, or a scene that really wasn’t good for them. 

We wrote the first verse, and kind of left it at that, and it sat in my voice memos for a couple years. Then I was on a plane on my way to the Jeff Austin tribute concert benefit [late member of Yonder Mountain String Band, who died in 2019], and I was just thinking about things. I think I finished it on my way home, but during that same week, I attended my cousin Emily’s funeral. She died in her 20s and was struggling with opiate addiction. I don’t mention either of them in the song necessarily, but it really got me into the headspace of thinking about people I know who are still alive, who are struggling with similar challenges. The song is about telling their story, and telling their story with compassion and honesty.

I noticed a lot of hard bluegrass influence on tracks like “Rules,” and along with Billy you have a collab with Jerry Douglas. Do you still feel like you can be creative in the bluegrass form these days? Or is it harder to do that as you grow as an artist?

Bluegrass gave me a lot of tools and a home. It gave me a place to belong and an opportunity to hone my craft, just in terms of tightening up rhythm and getting better at playing the guitar – and having an entire world of people I can get together with anytime, anywhere, and play any one of the many songs in the bluegrass canon and sing three-part harmony, like we’ve been a band our whole lives. It gave me so much, but I didn’t grow up in a family or a community that played bluegrass music. It was something I found in my early 20s. I’ve never been like people like Billy and Molly [Tuttle] – [bluegrass] is not just a part of their history, it’s like their earliest memories.

I grew up doing acoustic music, so there’s always going to be some element of that in my music. And I’m so grateful to have bluegrass now as a tool of expressing myself. But I don’t think I find it harder as I get older. I just find it easier to connect more authentically with my own voice, and bluegrass is a tool of doing that – but it’s not the only tool. 


Photo Credit: Dana Kalachnik