BGS is proud to announce a new podcast partnership, unveiling a sneak peek of Finding Lucinda, our new 14-part limited podcast series created by Americana/folk singer-songwriter ISMAY. Built upon ISMAY’s work crafting the award-winning documentary film, Finding Lucinda – which is gearing up for its own release in the fall of 2025 – the new eponymous companion podcast is set to launch its first season on May 5. (Listen to the season 1 trailer below.)
The show offers an intimate and revealing look into young songwriter Avery Hellman carving their own creative path by looking towards the early life and legacy of three-time GRAMMY Award-winning singer-songwriter Lucinda Williams.
Produced in partnership with BGS and distributed through the BGS Podcast Network – which hosts and has created hit podcasts like Basic Folk, Toy Heart with Tom Power, Harmonics with Beth Behrs, Carolina Calling, and more – this new offering expands on the documentary film’s themes, exploring artistic influence, creative resilience, and the impact of Williams’ music. Told through the lens of Hellman’s personal experiences and journey through music, the 14-part series takes listeners into the making of an icon using archival materials, exclusive interviews, and fresh commentary from artists and collaborators who knew Lucinda – often long before the world did.
Recorded during the making of the film, podcast episodes will feature in-depth conversations with Americana legends, including Charlie Sexton, Buddy Miller, Mary Gauthier, and Williams herself. Each edition of Finding Lucinda unpacks the pivotal people, places, and creative moments that shaped Lucinda’s groundbreaking voice and vision.
The story begins with ISMAY – Hellman, an emerging artist navigating their own doubts and dreams – setting off from a family ranch in Northern California to trace Lucinda’s path through Texas, Louisiana, and Tennessee. Along the way, they visit the venues where Lucinda first performed, uncovers hidden archival treasures, and seek wisdom from those who shaped her artistic foundation.
The Finding Lucinda podcast will be available on all major podcast platforms starting May 5, 2025, with new episodes released twice a month. Listen right here on BGS or wherever you get podcasts. Finding Lucinda, the documentary film, is slated for release in the Fall. Both the film and podcast showcase never-before-heard archival material, intimate conversations, and a visual journey through the literal and figurative landscapes that molded Lucinda’s songwriting.
“Through this podcast, we wanted to share even more of the stories, perspectives, and discoveries that couldn’t all fit into the film,” says ISMAY.
Part memoir, part music history, and part spiritual road trip, Finding Lucinda is ultimately a story about self-discovery, artistic bravery, and learning how to move forward – even when you’re unsure where the road will lead.
More information on the Finding Lucinda documentary and podcast here.
I left home (a sleepy market town in middle England) the day after high school finished and traveled around the world with just a guitar and a backpack. I paid my way by teaching English and singing songs in cafes. Five years, 36 countries, and two unfinished degrees later, I moved to Canada to marry a girl I’d once met at a party in Beijing and started my new career as a street performer.
Since then, I’ve played about 3000 gigs, from street corners to stadiums, successfully avoided getting a real job, and raised three amazing ginger kids. I love meeting and singing with people of all walks of life, especially the ordinary, humble folks who are often overlooked. I’m not really interested in finding a niche or a scene – I’m much more keen on finding ways to bridge the gaps between them.
One thing we all have in common is hard times and a need to hold on to hope through our grief and disappointment. Songs have always helped me, and do that, and I feel that I’m not alone. These tunes have inspired and comforted me over the years, and a couple of my own can do the same for you. – Martin Kerr
“Love More, Care Less” – Martin Kerr
I recorded this live in one take, because it’s a song about honesty and acceptance, and because there’s already enough airbrushing and auto-tuning in the world. ‘Love more, care less’ is how I’m trying to live my life now.
“Better, Still” – 100 mile house
This gem of a song beautifully encapsulates the feeling of being a young couple trying to find your place in a senseless world. 100 mile house have disbanded now, and they never got the recognition they deserved, but to me this song is timeless.
“Sometimes” – James
I still remember the first time I heard this song, wedged into the middle seat of an old car with new friends on a dark country road in northern England as the rain poured down. It’s an ecstatic, defiant celebration of song, storms, death, and the meaning of life.
“Big Bird In A Small Cage” – Patrick Watson
The softness of this song’s beginning is so inviting. It grows, line by line, with new instruments and harmonies, the song spreading its wings like the bird in the title. I love a song that grows and lifts and takes you on an unexpected journey. Plus, it’s my wife’s favorite, so I always get extra points for playing it.
“Re: Stacks” – Bon Iver
Usually I favor narrative songwriting with a clear story. But this abstract work of genius somehow immerses me in a world, a heart, and a feeling without making any outward sense. It’s the perfect end to a mind-blowing album, carrying the listener from anguish through acceptance to a new day.
“Feather On The Clyde” – Passenger
Passenger was a street performer when he made this record, busking on the streets of Sydney to pay for the recording and sleeping on the studio couch at night. I love the vulnerability and honesty in this simple song with its intricate fingerpicking that ebbs and flows like the titular river. I remember listening to this 20 times in a row on a long flight home and resolving to allow myself to be carried by the flow of life like the feather he sings about.
“A Case of You” – Joni Mitchell
Possibly the greatest vocal performance on any record ever. I’ve always wanted to cover this song, but never felt I could do it justice. Joni paints vivid pictures of heartbreak with her words and illuminates them with the glow of her perfect voice over a lonely dulcimer. The peak of confessional singer-songwriting. I listened to it endlessly in my first apartment in Beijing when I owned nothing but a sofa, a discman, and a handful of pirated CDs bought from the street market.
“Fast Car” – Tracy Chapman
I love that this song was rediscovered by a new generation recently, but the original version can never be beaten. As a 5-year-old hearing this for the first time, I’m not sure I understood the whole story at first, but I pored over the lyrics on the back of the vinyl dust-cover in my sisters room until I knew every word and every note of this young woman’s story from half the world away. The lift into the chorus captures the bittersweet exhilaration of escaping something that was once beautiful, but now has turned dark and needs to be left behind.
“Can’t Unsee It” – Martin Kerr
Unspeakable things are happening in the world at the moment and we’re told to look the other way, to pretend it’s not happening. I made this song to try and express the grief in my heart at witnessing the genocide in Gaza, while being powerless to stop it. The melody is inspired by “Here Comes The Sun,” in the hope that there could yet be some light at the end of this long darkness for the children of war.
“Guiding Light” – Foy Vance
My parents used to sing me to sleep with old Scots lullabies that I only half understood. Foy Vance manages to bridge the gap between Gaelic traditions and the modern world in his music and this song gives me a timeless feeling of home and belonging.
“Innocence and Sadness” – Dermot Kennedy
Hearing Dermot sing this solo for a whole stadium every night was magical. I got to open for him on his cross-Canada tour last year and it was unforgettable. His songs are so nostalgic and so fresh at the same time, ancient and modern, so personal yet universal. I try to reach for that in my own songwriting and performing.
“Farewell And Goodnight” – Smashing Pumpkins
I used to fall asleep to this song every night when I was 16 and 17, when I was trying to figure out who I was, where I belonged, and why the girls I fell for never fell for me. Listening now I can hear it starts with a brush on a snare drum, but I always thought it was the waves lapping on the shore. The song is a calm and wistful end to a chaotic album full of angst and confusion (Mellon Collie And The Infinite Sadness). I think it taught me the value of simplicity and comfort, of contrast and context. I can still hear the click of the stop mechanism that would almost wake me up as the tape ended on my cheap plastic boombox.
The dynamic songwriter and multi-instrumentalist Susan Werner spoke to Basic Folk onboard the Cayamo cruise, which she describes as a “paid vacation.” Reflecting on her upbringing on a working farm, Susan discusses the hard work that shaped her, but also how she’s learning to embrace rest and relaxation. With humor and insight, she navigates the balance between a hardworking mindset and the need for downtime, revealing her strategies for managing stress and expectations in both life and music.
Susan’s latest album, Halfway to Houston, is a continuation of her exploration of a place through its music. Previous releases found her examining New Orleans and Florida. In this particular case, she is focusing on the state of Texas, including the interconnectedness of communities across borders; the song “Sisters” is about twin sister cities El Paso, Texas, and Juárez, Mexico. As a seasoned artist, Susan dives into the importance of consistency and authenticity in her craft, emphasizing that hard work alone doesn’t guarantee success – it’s about being consistently excellent. She also touches on the political landscape and how her songs aim to foster empathy and understanding, even in divided times.
Photo Credit: Lead image by Bryan Lasky, alternate image by Will Byington.
Originally from the village of Mutungo, Uganda (near the country’s capital of Kampala), Jon Muq‘s journey to his current life of touring with an Austin, Texas, home base has been unconventional. Onboard the Cayamo cruise earlier this year, we talked to Jon about his childhood experiences, including fetching water with friends and hearing “We Are the World,” which was the first Western music he ever experienced. He also recounts the emotional reunion with his twin sister at the Cambridge Folk Festival, revealing how distance from his family has shaped his identity as an artist. He had not seen her, his friends, or any family before that for many years due to leaving originally to work on a cruise ship (the same line we were cruising on!) and work visa realities.
Jon discusses the moment he first held a guitar at age 19, which felt like a natural fit. He shares how traditional Ugandan music influences his sound and how he began learning English through song before mastering the language. Jon speaks about his experience with food; growing up, his family was food insecure. When he started performing on cruise ships, he was overwhelmed by the amount of food available. He explained the ever-present googly-eyes on his guitar, which tie into learning about distinct cultural differences between America and Uganda. Like many countries, it is normal in Uganda for male friends to hold hands. This and many cultural differences were learned the hard way for Jon, so the eyes on the guitar symbolize an always smiling friend that will be there for him. He wraps up this episode of Basic Folk with a great lightning round giving us the inside scoop on the best food aboard Cayamo, his dream collaboration and, in his opinion as an industrial design student, what’s the most beautiful product in the world.
Life is weird. In the words of Dan Reeder, “What the fuck is that about?”
Everyone tells me I seem mellow and laid back – and I am. That said, if anyone were to take one step into my head, they’d be bombarded with a maelstrom of wonderings about death, intrusive thoughts, forgotten location of keys and wallets, constant attempts (mostly failures) at descriptive alliteration, wildly sweeping feeling of love, wildly sweeping feelings of grief – and constant hunger. All of which eventually spin back around to complete peace and acceptance.
Music tends to get me back to that point. These songs bring peace to my ’90s-fuzzy-porn-like mess of a mind by reminding me (in one way or another) that it’s somewhat preposterous that we exist at all. A lot of these tracks are attached to personal moments in my own timeline, but hope they bring you peace too. – Tony Kamel
“Deep Breath” – Riley Downing
“Take a deep breath, it’ll be alright…”
I love this guy’s tunes. He has a poignant way of presenting life’s weirdness. Also as a recent yogi, it’s a good reminder to come back to my breath.
“Monster Truck” – Ramsay Midwood
“You don’t like it, you can kiss my ass. ‘Cause I drive a monster truck…”
This record, Shootout at the OK Chinese Restaurant, is funny, odd, and just a fantastic timeless reflection on the insanity we’ll always exist inside. Is he celebrating or making fun of these people? I don’t know. I don’t care. It’s funny.
“People Talkin’” – Hurray for the Riff Raff
“People, they’re trying to tear us apart…”
Alynda Segarra is a national treasure. This record just blows my mind and has been a staple for me for a long time. It reminds me that I’m old now and I’m glad to be.
“Sue” – Tony Kamel
“If you’re livin’ and breathing, and doing that right, you ought to be lovin’ with all of your might…”
The second verse of this tune holds the keystone to my upcoming record, We’re All Gonna Live. Obviously, our relationships with other people define much of our lives. Sue was a wonderful person. I miss her dearly.
“Waxing and Waning” – Melissa Carper
“Waxing and waning, wishing and waiting…”
Melissa is one of the best writers and singers out there. Her retro voice puts me at ease.
“Don’t Tell the Boys” – Petey USA
“Lets talk about how childhood trauma guides our actions as adults…”
This tune reminds me of me and my old buddies. I’m lucky to have them. We’ve been friends for 30+ years and we can be ourselves and tell each other anything without fear or judgment – something I treasure deeply.
“Louie” – Arcy Drive
“Baby remember, this is our December…”
I just love this song and it’s reminiscent of ’90s alternative rock Weezer era. It makes me happy to see Gen Z-ers throwing down with a rockin’ live band like this. It feels cyclical.
“Problem Solver” – Slimdan
“Maybe I should be someone who listens and not try to fix it/ … You don’t want a problem solver…”
This is a beautiful love song about being a typical dude and doing typical dude things like I tend to do in my marriage. I’ve come a long way though… so has this guy.
“Joyful” – Kelley Mickwee
“The beauty of life is the movement of change…”
Kelley rocks and this album rocks. That’s all.
“The Illinois River Song” – The Brother Brothers
“I proclaim the Illinois River gonna swallow me up whole and not a soul will know that I am missing…”
I’m a sucker for a good river/life metaphor. The melodies that weave in and out of this tune are infectious. It could be about anything and I’d love it.
“Everything Is Everything” – Cappadonna
“Everything that you see ain’t reality, they’re just illusions…”
Hip-hop on a bluegrass website? Duh. Can always count on a member of the Wu-Tang Clan to remind you that we might live in a simulation.
“They’ll Never Keep Us Down” – Hazel Dickens
“We won’t be bought, we won’t be sold…”
Just because everything is uncontrollable bullshit doesn’t mean we don’t fight. This tune speaks for itself. Bless Hazel Dickens.
“Born a Worm” – Dan Reeder
“Born a worm, spins a cocoon, goes to sleep, wakes up a butterfly. What the fuck is that about?”
I do not know, Dan. None of us do. I implore everyone reading this to listen to Dan Reeder’s songs.
“We’re All Gonna Live” – Tony Kamel
Yes we are.
I’m tired of talking about myself. Y’all can figure it out. Love you.
The Wildwoods are not shy about the pride they hold for their home state, Nebraska. The Lincoln-based trio – guitarist/vocalist Noah Gose, violinist/vocalist Chloe Gose, and bassist/vocalist Andy Vaggalis – named their gorgeous new album, Dear Meadowlark (out April 11), after the state bird, while songs like “Sweet Niobrara” and “I Will Follow You To Willow” represent odes to specific Nebraska towns.
“The album really is about our home here in Nebraska,” elaborated Noah, who is the group’s principal songwriter.
The Wildwoods have been together, in one form or another, for over a decade. Noah and Chloe, who are now married, first started performing together as teenagers, while Andy had played in the Wildwoods on and off for several years before officially joining them as a trio in 2022. Dear Meadowlark is their fourth full-length, but the first with Andy as a full-time member, and this album showcases their marvelous vocal chemistry throughout its set of gentle, pastoral acoustic music.
Before heading out on an East Coast tour, the three spoke to BGS about their new album, their growth as a band, and how the pandemic actually helped them become more widely known.
You all have been really upfront with how the new album reflects your deep affection for your home state, Nebraska.
Noah Gose: You know, living in a place like Nebraska, you hear a lot about people wanting to move away. But we’ve just grown to really appreciate our life in Nebraska and appreciate having had the opportunity to grow up in a place like Nebraska.
Chloe Gose: As much as we leave, I think we’ve all always appreciated our home.
Dear Meadowlark also has a very smooth musical flow to it. The title track opens the album like a lovely overture, while the contemplative closer, “Postcards From Somewhere,” bookends it as something like a reflective travelogue-type tune.
CG: It kind of felt like [“Postcards From Somewhere”] was the perfect fit to tie everything all together.
Andy Vaggalis: I think it works super well at the end, too, because [the album] is almost like little stories being written on the postcard with the last song for the postcard to be sent off.
NG: And that song originally wasn’t going to be a part of the album. It was just going to be a single. I wasn’t too keen on adding it to the album, but you know what Chloe says goes, so it was her decision to put it on, but now I’m really happy that we decided to do that.
The album’s music is really rooted in your acoustic instruments; however, drums, keyboards, and cello are used to nicely fill out the arrangements. Was that a conscious choice?
CG: I’m glad that you say that, because with our last album, Foxfield Saint John, I feel like each song is very epic-sounding in the sense that it just has a lot going on in all the arrangements, and we really wanted this album to sound more like us like how we sound live.
NG: All those extra instruments don’t really have the main spotlight at any point throughout the album, but they’re definitely kind of underlying things that brought certain parts of the arrangement out.
Noah, you are the primary songwriter – how did you approach writing the songs for Dear Meadowlark, which sounds like it is a quite personal album?
NG: Yeah, our first two albums, Sweet Nostalgia in 2017 and then Across the Midwest Sky in 2019, were all songs that were music first, lyrics second. And Foxfield was kind of half and half. Most of the songs on Dear Meadowlark were lyrics first. I feel like the songs mean more to me personally when the lyrics are first, because all the lines feel more purposeful.
CG: Things that are happening in our life are inspiring the words. So, all the words are very truthful and mean something in real time… I can tell when certain songs were written.
NG: I don’t like writing songs that just feel like everything’s completely made up. I like to just relate every song I write to things that happened in real life.
Are the vocals something that you think about when you are writing the songs, Noah?
NG: I very rarely have Chloe’s vocal range or Andy’s vocal range in mind when I’m writing the initial bones of the song, because I don’t want anything to get in the way of whatever kind of creativity goes into the initial writing. Most of the songs though, I arrange with Chloe singing the melody. I just don’t feel as confident in my own voice as I do in Chloe’s voice. And just with her being the only female voice, I feel like her voice stands out the most and works the best most of the time as singing the melody.
Your wonderful harmony singing seems to have become central to your sound now.
NG: The whole album of Dear Meadowlark was written around three-part harmony being kind of the main focus of the album.
AV: When I joined the group, I had it in my head – “I’m playing bass.” I wasn’t envisioning doing all these three-part harmony stuff. … When I first came back into the fold, it was like learning the songs and just finding a part in between [their voices] that fit. I remember like one night we were trying to make a fun ad for a show, so we switched around the words to “Teach Your Children” by Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young. And I remember just feeling way easier than I normally would at [how] to put the three-part harmony together, and just like, “Oh, shit, that sounds good!”
Andy, while Dear Meadowlark was your first full album in the band’s trio setup, you have been with Chloe and Noah frequently over the years?
AV: I started playing with these guys in 2017. We were like a six-piece band. So, I was on Sweet Nostalgia and Across the Midwest Sky. Through the years, I’ve been lurking around.
CG: We’ve had different musicians playing with us throughout the years, but Andy has always been like a core member – basically since the beginning. … We were in choir together in high school. I think there’s kind of like an epiphany with Andy still playing with us. We’ve had other members and clearly that wasn’t like their dream to be doing that anymore. I feel like the reason why we are all still together and doing it is because we all have the same appreciation for what we’re doing.
Okay, speaking of beginnings, I must ask about the beginning of your musical partnership, Chloe and Noah. You two have been making music together since you were both teenagers.
CG: Noah and I met in 2012 when we were 14. I was playing music with my brother and we just like played for fun basically at farmers markets and stuff. [Noah] joined my brother and me, and we played all throughout high school [as] the Wildwoods.
NG: If you were to see videos of us playing at 14, you would probably turn your computer off. … I only really ever had this acoustic guitar that was my dad’s. So, I didn’t ever dive into any other kind of music other than songs that I would play on the acoustic guitar. And when I met Chloe and I learned that she played the violin, I think I just immediately felt like we should play music together. We really enjoyed each other’s company. And playing together so much over the past 13 years, I think it’s just there was no kind of epiphany at first; I think it’s been a 13-year-long epiphany
Andy, when you decided to formally join the band, you still hadn’t finished college yet – was that a big decision?
AV: I was going to college for music. When I would think about what I wanted to do after graduating college, it was travel around and play music. So, I figured might as well. I didn’t necessarily need college to do that at the moment. I can always go back, right? We’ve been great friends since before I was even playing with them. And then, after years of playing with them, it was a pretty easy decision to talk myself into it.
When you rebranded as a trio, it was also when your group started to get a lot of attention during the pandemic for the cover song videos you put up online.
NG: When we started posting his videos, the response that we were getting from the trio videos was just far better than anything that we had ever done in the past, and so we just felt, “This is what works best!”
AV: Then when the “Home” video (a cover of the 2010 Edward Sharpe & the Magnetic Zeros hit song) blew up, I think it was Halloween night. All of our phones were just notification after notification after notification, and we’re like “This is insane!” And then the next day, it dawned on us, “Okay, this is exciting, but also this is like a little opportunity here that we need to maximize.” We were trying to still practice together, because we were still kind of in the infancy of playing together as a trio.
CG: Yeah, it was kind of a stressful time during that time, because all three of us were teaching music lessons as well as doing the Wildwoods full time. So, we would meet up early in the morning. We’d start our days at like 8 a.m. and just go until 3 or 4, and then we’d all go and teach lessons. Then we would meet up after lessons to finish what we were working on.
Did the viral success of your cover song videos change what the makeup of the audiences coming to your shows?
CG: We went on tour not really knowing what to expect after our social media blew up. And then [on] our first tour, it was really amazing to see. We started just selling a bunch of tickets in cities that we had never even gone to…
Did you fear that your cover of “Home” might become your “Free Bird”?
NG: Yeah, it was definitely a worry at first, just because we usually throw in one cover, maybe two. We’re mainly an originals band.
CG: I think it has evolved, now that it’s been a couple of years, where people are finding our original music. And they’re requesting them at shows more so than the cover songs.
AV: Even some deep cuts, too.
The songs on Dear Meadowlark, besides drawing inspiration from your home state Nebraska, also holds a warm, woodsy vibe that suggest to me about being out in nature. How would you describe your sound?
CG: Yeah, I think that’s the vibe we’re trying to go for, like aesthetically and musically. I feel like our music too is very soothing – even our upbeat songs. I don’t know if that’s just because of the harmonies fitting together. It’s very calming and soothing music.
Basic Folk is making trouble at sea with Ani DiFranco and Carsie Blanton! Hosts Lizzie and Cindy had the opportunity to speak with the two like-minded radical songwriters aboard the 2025 edition of Cayamo, a roots music cruise. Our conversation kicks off with Ani sharing her transformative experience performing as Persephone in the Broadway show Hadestown, delving into the challenges of acting and the lessons learned from stepping outside her musical comfort zone. We navigate through Ani’s journey of independence, discussing Unprecedented Sh!t, her first album with a producer besides herself in 23 years – BJ Burton – and what it means to relinquish control in the creative process.
In Ani’s memoir, No Walls and the Recurring Dream, she writes about how her creativity is aligned with her menstrual cycle. She described the most creative part of her cycle as “THE WINDOW.” Cindy asked all three artists onstage to reflect on how their creativity relates to their periods. What resulted was a discussion on how creativity is impacted by not only menstrual cycles, but menopause and ovulation and how that has evolved over time. The conversation also touches on the significance of hair as a form of self-expression and how societal perceptions of women change with their appearances.
Ani and Carsie speak to the power of songwriting in addressing historical and political issues, emphasizing the importance of music as part of a larger movement for justice. They share insights on the necessity of community and collaboration among artists in a challenging industry, encouraging listeners to find strength in solidarity rather than competition. To wrap up, they reminisce about their parallel wild, youthful experiences and how those versions of themselves continue to influence their art today. As Ani had to leave the stage early, Carsie brought it home with an Ani DiFranco-themed lightning round.
Palmyra is a bit restless. Their emotions knot into a mangled ball, almost suffocating them.
“Early hours in the morning, tossing and turning/ Everyone else in this house is asleep,” Sasha Landon pours into the microphone. “Palm Readers” emerges integral to the band’s new musical chapter. Aptly titled Restless, this album marks their debut with Oh Boy Records. It’s like reintroducing themselves to the world.
The trio – rounded out with Teddy Chipouras and Mānoa Bell – pounces from the get-go. Similar to The Lone Bellow’s tightly wound vocal work, their harmonies exude a vintage richness throughout as they do on the title track and opener. It’s quite evident that they take their work seriously, down to the lilt of their voices as they glide through the air. Palmyra makes you believe they’ve been singing together for decades, their harmonies are so electric and full of life.
“We definitely put a lot of effort into our harmonies. It’s something that always feels super important when we’re arranging a song,” shares Landon. “The three of us weren’t people who sang with others a lot before this band. When we formed, we learned a lot from old recordings of other bands and all sorts of stuff. We did a lot of transcribing harmony early on in the lockdown. The record needed to start with our voices and we wanted that to set the tone for the album.”
Perfectly performed harmonies underpin the album’s emotional currents. The trio builds guilt, frustration, and hope into the project’s backbone to create a coming-of-age story. “There was a moment when we understood what the album was about. There were separate songs that we found homes together through playing them live,” says Chipouras. “‘Palm Readers’ feels great right after ‘Restless.’ And those songs then became a pair. Their energies matched. The coming-of-age narrative emerged from the time period that the songs were written.”
Restless sprouts from the cracks between each song. Where “No Receipt” meanders through sun-caked uncertainty, the cheeky “Dishes” sees the band accepting domestication and finding peace. Along the way, they agonize over being present while time yanks them this way and that – the pressure that comes from being a working musician crushes their shoulders. The album, based on a “period of leaving college, going out on our own, starting a band, going out on the road, and just trying to figure out what the life of a musician looks like,” captures brutal truths of living, loving, and losing time.
Hopping on a Zoom call, Palmyra spoke to BGS about feeling restless, reenergized creativity, and mortality.
What is it about the title track that made sense to be the opener?
Sasha Landon: It made a lot of sense for us to have this song that starts with the three of our voices kicking off the record. Also, it is a song that has a through line to the record from the jump. The emotional center for this record is pretty heavy. And that’s not to say that there’s not a lot of light in the record. I think there’s a lot of fun on it, as well. But the overall emotional center is pretty heavy and restless, felt like a good way to jump into that.
In “No Receipt,” you lament that there just isn’t enough time. As you’ve gotten older, what’s your relationship with time been like?
Mānoa Bell: That’s the central theme of, not only the record, but questions we’re always asking ourselves. Specifically, the last line there about finding those quieter moments has proven to be such a challenge, to put it all to the side. Being an artist is such a consuming experience. Every moment of your day is a part of that journey and it can be hard to have separation from it, which is a really beautiful thing, but frustrating at times as well. You can’t get away from it.
“Can’t Slow Down” deals with a similar thematic thread. How did this one come together?
Teddy Chipouras: This one was a song that I wrote after a couple of years of not writing songs. I don’t think I wrote hardly any songs during COVID. This tune kind of came out all at once after being fed up with not writing anything for a while, and I think we had just gotten off the road. It was kind of like just throwing words at the page of how I was feeling at the time, just feeling exhausted.
That one’s funny, because it was a really big moment for me and I felt very accomplished that I had written something and finished something. I remember being nervous to send it to the band and then really not thinking anything would come from it. I did not think we would be playing that song every night. It’s one of those tunes that has changed meaning, or it means more to me now than it did when I wrote it.
“Buffalo” roots itself in a phone call during a show in Buffalo after one of your friends had taken their own life. Was this song a necessary cathartic exercise?
MB: There are songs that you try to write and then there are songs that you just have to write. I remember very clearly writing the beginning of it and immediately feeling better. It was a very therapeutic experience, not feeling good but feeling better. It’s a song that’s still hard to play. I feel a responsibility to try to connect emotionally with it every time we play it and not just phone it in. Sometimes, when you’re on stage, you’ve done something so many times, there’s a muscle memory aspect to it. But that song never really feels like muscle memory.
When someone dies, you begin questioning your mortality. Did that happen to you?
MB: I think suicide, specifically, when it’s someone who you see yourself in, and someone who you grew up with, makes you wonder what life would be like without them. It’s not just suicide. It’s just about loss and grief. There was never a point where I was like at such a level of grief that I didn’t want to continue living. But it definitely makes you wonder what life will be like moving forward.
The closing track, “Carolina Wren,” feels like a big sigh to let all the things on the record go. Why does it appear as primarily the demo you recorded?
SL: [Producer] Jake Cochran did such a great job of trying to make sure that the songs sonically matched their emotional core and that the version of the song that we were putting out felt really authentic to the lyrics and our live performance of it. This was a tune that I hadn’t played for anyone in the band yet. I wrote it right before we went to the lakehouse [to record] and played it on a whim. I think Teddy was out getting groceries or something and Jake pressed record. Mānoa is holding the bass and I think plays one note on it, and I am playing guitar and singing. We just felt, after hearing it, there was a consensus that that’s how the song is supposed to exist. It’s how it’s supposed to sound.
And Jake helped us get there, too. With some songs, like “Shape I’m In,” for example, we had to be mindful of how many performances we gave it before we exhausted it and weren’t going to get any more. When you have a song that takes a lot emotionally to perform, you can only do it so many times before it loses its meaning, or becomes muscle memory, or just wears you out from overuse. We had one take that felt earnest. It speaks to the song. It honors the song in a good way and it belongs as it is. Then we decided that it made sense as the last tune on the record. It is a nice little breath at the end.
What have been the biggest realizations you’ve had of being working musicians?
MB: I think maybe for me, I’ve learned that there’s kind of an endless amount of resilience needed. You’re constantly faced with just things you need to get through, to solve. I don’t even know if I would call that a music thing, though. I think that’s just like a growing-up thing.
TC: One thing for me is I didn’t realize how hard it would be to find creative time when you’re a full-time creative. We are full-time musicians, we’re on tour a lot of the time, and then we get home and there’s a lot of work to do. It’s almost harder to schedule the creative time than it is to schedule the work. I never thought it would be hard to find that balance.
Did this album change you in any way?
MB: This record showed all three of us that there was another level to get to and that there are endless places of growth that we will find. I think we dug deep as a band and it has continued to be rewarding for those reasons. The further we dig, the better it is. It does just keep getting better.
With the release, the songs no longer belong to you, but the world. What’s that experience?
TC: It will be interesting to see how this one feels, because this one feels bigger than our previous projects. We talk about this a lot with our songs going through different phases of us letting them go. I think the biggest one for me of letting songs go is starting to play them live. We’ve played all of these songs live before for a while. That moment, for me, is the biggest in terms of feeling like releasing full control of it, and it becoming the world’s and not ours anymore.
MB: We haven’t released something at this level before, so I don’t know. I’m excited to see how it feels releasing the whole project. Last year’s release was an EP. I think that if I’m defining what feels different about an EP versus an album, it’s like Teddy saying that this feels bigger than anything before; it’s the amount of energy we put into creating the music – the amount of energy we’ve put into getting it out to people. It’s just like we’re putting so much behind it.
SL: I’m so excited to see, to know that a listener’s first experience of Palmyra could be Restless, that the first thing that they hear is something that of all of the music we’ve put out, we have been proud of, and has been a really good snapshot of where we are at the present time.
Artist:Countercurrent (Brian Lindsay and Alex Sturbaum) Hometown: Olympia, Washington Latest Album:Flow (released March 3, 2025)
Which artist has influenced you the most – and how?
It’s a three-way tie for me between Great Big Sea (gateway drug into trad music, consummate performers, wonderful harmonies), early Solas (dazzling musicianship, tight arrangements, and an unmistakable guitar style) and the Grateful Dead (fearless improvisation, and pushing the boundaries of what is possible while keeping one foot firmly in folk). – Alex Sturbaum
Chicago fiddler Liz Carroll has probably had the most comprehensive influence on me – she is a master of creative interpretations of traditional fiddle tunes and composing new tunes in a trad idiom. Much of how I think about melodic improvisation and variation around a melody is influenced by her playing. Her recordings over the years showcase some incredible arrangements and beautiful production, ranging from very minimal, traditional-sounding, to lush and modern tracks. – Brian Lindsay
If you had to write a mission statement for your career, what would it be?
“Play ’em happy, sing ’em angry.” We want our music to inspire joy and resilience and to generally make folks feel good. However, we also want to call out the injustice we see in the world every day and use our music to aid the fight against fascism in whatever way we can. – AS
“Every tradition is a living tradition, if we participate.” Musical traditions don’t thrive when we only admire them inside a glass case, they benefit from curating the archives of the past, honoring the figures who have shaped it today, and welcoming new contributions that reflect today’s influences (cultural, political, technological, etc.). Most importantly, music communities thrive when we make music that we really love to listen and move to. – BL
Genre is dead (long live genre!), but how would you describe the genres and styles your music inhabits?
We draw from a lot of different folk traditions – Celtic, old-time, maritime, jam-band music, and more – but fundamentally, Countercurrent is a dance band. We cut our teeth playing for contra dancing, that’s still the main thing we do, and everything we play is built around groove and drive. One of our favorite things in the world is bringing our music to venues outside of folk communities and getting an audience to unironically throw ass to fiddle tunes. – AS
In a nutshell, “modern fiddle tune dance jams.” Our focus is to create music that moves people, both physically and emotionally, and our vocabulary comes from the genres of Irish, American old-time, and adjacent fiddle and song traditions. We add our own compositions using that vocabulary, but incorporating our musical influences from genres like jam bands, funk, electronic, and rock that we love. – BL
What is a genre, album, artist, musician, or song that you adore that would surprise people?
We both really enjoy the offbeat songwriter Dan Reeder. We had the pleasure of getting to see him and his daughter Peggy in Seattle recently – one of their rare tours from Germany – and we have been enjoying singing his songs together in green rooms and tour vehicles. I also have a sizable soft spot for Owl City. – AS
I’m very fond of the music of blues singer and instrumentalist Taj Mahal. I got some of his recordings when I was quite young and got to see him live near my home when I was in high school. I also love Moon Hooch, who essentially make saxophone-based EDM with live drums (I have an unabashed love for the saxophone, and brass instruments in general, though I don’t play any). – BL
Since food and music go so well together, what is your dream pairing of a meal and a musician?
I once had a Thai meal with roasted coconut and pork belly right before seeing Gillian Welch perform The Harrow and the Harvest in its entirety, and to be honest I have been thinking about both ever since. – AS
A meal consisting entirely of East Asian dumplings of every variety, with Kishi Bashi, whose music I adore and also appears to be an incredibly interesting and kind person. – BL
Photo Credit: Molly Walsh
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