Tag: indie

Samantha Crain Made ‘Gumshoe’ with Reciprocity and Vulnerability as Its Core

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Growing up in Oklahoma, Choctaw singer-songwriter Samantha Crain found solace and calm in mid-20th-century film noir, Westerns, and Broderbund Software, Inc.’s cult Where in the World Is Carmen Sandiego? media franchise. Along the way, she developed a soft spot for the vernacular term for a private detective, “gumshoe.”

“I’d always write it in my notebooks, thinking I’d use it one day,” she says.

During her teenage years, Crain taught herself how to play guitar and began writing songs before embarking on a lifestyle on the road as a singer-songwriter, performer, and recording artist as she entered adulthood. Over the last seventeen years, she’s released seven albums and a bevy of EPs, singles, and collaborations, while evading any sense of hard stylistic classification. “Honestly, I don’t know that I have a lot of understanding of genre,” she explains. “I write the songs and then I think about what will serve them best.”

When she was in the early stages of writing her recently released seventh album, Gumshoe, Crain watched American film director John Huston’s storied 1941 mystery thriller, The Maltese Falcon. Afterwards, when she was scribbling down some ideas, she found herself returning to Humphrey Bogart’s portrayal of Sam Spade. “He’s the quintessential, emotionally detached private investigator,” she says. “I can see a lot of that personality in myself.”

From there, Crain felt compelled to write a song about two people with that disposition falling in love. “I immediately thought, maybe this is where I finally get to use gumshoe,” she says. “It became a song about the mystery of trying to solve interpersonal relationships.” Rendered through a dreamy concoction of guitar, percussion, strings, eerie sound design, and her yearning tones, that fact-meets-fiction scenario became the titular track on Crain’s new album.

From using the dragonfly as a metaphor for flexibility and resilience (“Dragonfly”) to exploring her relationship with the natural world (“B-Attitudes”) and revisiting memories that still haunt her, Gumshoe reveals itself as a mercurial blend of alt-country, Americana, breezy psychedelic rock, and close, bedsit folk. It’s one of those records that feels perfectly designed for the introspection of late-night drives, solo walks, or wherever else you find your moments of reflection.

Co-produced with Brine Webb and Taylor Johnson at Lunar Manor Recording Studio in Oklahoma City, the album documents a period of profound transformation within Crain’s personal life and how she relates to those closest to her. In late April, BGS spoke with Samantha Crain about all of the above and more.

How are you doing?

Samantha Crain: Good, yeah. The town I live in has a big free music festival going on right now. It’s always interesting maneuvering your way around town when it’s happening. I’ve spent my morning trying to get things done. This happens every year. I should really know better by now.

To paraphrase the late, great Sharon Jones, some of us have to learn the hard way.

Yeah. That’s probably a good example of most things in my life.

Do you have a philosophical stance that underpins what you do as a songwriter?

I don’t think of what I do as a songwriter as being separate from how I live my life. I’ve spent so much of my life being a lone wolf, very hyper-independent. Lately, I’ve started to explore the ideas of vulnerability and reciprocity within my personal relationships with my friends and family members. I’m trying to embody that there is no “is” and we can change by the minute.

In my ancestor’s language, the Choctaw language, there are no words for “is” or “are.” That speaks to their value. You can’t ever describe anything with certainty. You can only pair something with descriptors that describe it as it appears in a moment. Living in a less defined way feels more mentally and spiritually sustainable. It’s also more sustainable for me as an artist to embody that flexibility and impermanence.

At this point, you’ve been a musician for over half your life, right?

Yeah. Honestly, I have a pretty poor memory of growing up. I’ve got a bad memory in general. I don’t remember much about my life apart from what I’m doing currently.

Lately, I’ve been thinking a bit more about the relationship between someone’s lifestyle and the music they make.

Sometimes I’m very aware that even if I didn’t have this desire and ability to write songs and make records, I’d probably still be living pretty close to how I am now. I have this very deep curiosity in me to experience as much of life as possible while I’m still on this mortal coil. I don’t know that everybody has that same curiosity or desire, and that’s completely fine. I just think I’m lucky to have an outlet and an instigator to justify how I go about living through music and songwriting.

When you think about making Gumshoe, what are some of the first experiences that come to mind?

The first memory I have from this album is having to set an alarm really early in the morning, so I could have quiet time alone and try to be a lightning rod for whatever was awaiting me. I did that every morning for three or four months to make sure I could get the active writing part in. I remember sitting at the kitchen table in the wee hours of the morning with my iPad and my guitar, trying to make demos and get these songs out.

At the same time, I was working forty hours a week at another job and dealing with all these stressful things that kept happening. I’m still slightly surprised that I was even able to make this album, because over the last two or three years of my life, I’ve had a lot of really difficult things going on. I’ve been dealing with health, interpersonal relationships and family stuff. Amidst all that, I had to find a way to answer the call of active writing time, which felt impossible.

I always get fairly offended whenever it’s been a year or two between records and people want to talk about how long it’s been since I’ve had a record. It’s like, “Excuse me, I’ve just been living my life.” I don’t know what to tell you. It hasn’t felt that long to me. I’ve felt like everything is moving right on time.

There can be a level of cross-cultural confusion around what time even means.

Western societies run on capitalism’s watch. What good are you to those societies if you’re not producing something? It’s just not a value I have in my life, so I find it hard to match that energy.

I like that you made the distinction around active writing time earlier. You’ve got to have space for yourself as well. You can’t give everything away.

Not only can you not give everything away, but you can’t constantly be in bloom. Flowers are not constantly in bloom; there’s a good reason for that. There’s energy that has to be sustained through the seasons of life. If you can’t close up and protect that periodically, you’re never going to make anything for anyone else or yourself.

Can you talk a bit more about what you were exploring across the album?

The songs I was writing were me trying to wrap my head around what it means to be in really close relationships with people. This was something I hadn’t really let myself do before. I thought it would be really strange if I wrote all these songs about how I’m trying to get better at connecting, or allowing myself to be vulnerable with other people, and then I went and made it how I usually make records – which is a lot of single tracking, or people that are isolated in their own booths. That led us to all recording together in one big live room. That also led me to bring co-producers in, rather than being the main driver of all the ideas. It was really important for me to have the experience of being able to lean on other people. I just felt like I needed to match what was going on with me personally with the recording process as well.

After listening to the album and talking to you, it sounds like you’ve had a heavy few years.

Nobody can tell you about these experiences ahead of time. There are things you have to live through to understand. You can’t tell an eighteen-year-old that their sense of invincibility is an illusion. You can’t talk someone into having that knowledge. It’s just something they have to live long enough to understand.

Imagine how paralyzing it would be to understand these things at a young age?

I think if I’d had a full idea of what this life path – being a singer-songwriter and musician – would look like at the age I started, I don’t know if I would have done it. Now, I don’t regret any of it. I still wake up every day and choose to keep doing this because I love it, but I think the naivety, greenness, and blind confidence of younger people is a massive help in pushing us off in any sort of direction at all.

What do you think have been the significant turning points in your journey through all of this?

There’s an experience I’ve had that happened many times over the last twenty years. As an artist, you get to a point where you have a set of people helping you: labels, booking agents, managers, etc. Inevitably, people end up moving in a different direction. Every time somebody like that has to leave my circle, I feel like I’m being abandoned in some way. What has always somehow happened afterwards is that I’ve always been able to link up with someone else who helps me keep carrying on.

I am forever in awe of that pattern of feeling that I am in the right place, doing the right thing. I don’t just mean this with business people. I really mean this in life as well. A lot of times, the people who end up helping me in my journey as a songwriter and a musician also play a huge part in my life as friends, mentors or things like that. It really gives me a sense of comfort and trust in myself. If you’ve run out of gas and you’re on the side of the interstate with your thumb out, someone is going to come and help you quicker if you have a smile on your face and a positive attitude about it all.

Some people evoke the idea that you shouldn’t go into business without already having an exit strategy in place. Obviously, not many of them are musicians.

I never have an exit strategy. I’m just forced into the next thing.

It’s worth noting that in recent years you’ve been working on film and television soundtrack projects, such as scoring for Fancy Dance and Winding Path.

When you’re working in film and television, the amount of collaboration you have to do is so intense. It’s beyond any level of collaboration I’ve ever done with my own records. A big portion of making my records occurs in solitude. When you’re scoring films, the number of people you have to pass ideas through, or get the OK from, is massive.

Also, all the films I’ve scored for are about community and family in a way. They’re about connection and reciprocity. So far, they haven’t been about the lone wolf character, which I find good. If my first dip into scoring films had been for a detached, lone wolf character nobody understands, I think I could have gotten a bit too emo for my own good. So, I think it’s good that the projects I’ve been brought into so far have been more about connection.

What does it mean to come from Oklahoma at this point in your journey?

It is to exist somewhere you both can’t live without and can’t wait to return to. At the same time, you want to get as far away from it as possible. That dichotomy is the thing that got me on the road as a young person. I don’t want to only understand this one existence, but it’s also one of the only places where I feel like I make sense. If I were going to grow out of the ground somewhere, this is the only place I could envision myself sprouting out of. Unfortunately, being here reminds me of how hard it has become to be in nature. When I say, be in nature, I don’t mean trying to connect with something outside of myself. I feel like I’m a part of the planet’s ecosystem.

Growing up, I spent a lot of time in southeastern Oklahoma, in the Kayami Street River Valley with my cousins. Even as kids, we were living in a respectful communion. We knew if you saw a diamondback rattlesnake, you don’t mess with that rattlesnake. We were taught to walk softly through the forest and disrupt as little as possible, because we were passing through. I’m still in those same physical spaces, but as I’ve gotten older, knowing I’m becoming more and more disconnected from the natural world feels really strange. I haven’t thought about this much, but maybe this is why I feel this pull to remain here. Maybe it is because I haven’t resolved that, or gotten back to a place that feels right in that aspect of my life.

It sounds like there’s a bigger set of questions at work here. I will say this, though: there’s not much that’s more grounding than walking barefoot on the grass or dirt.

It is. I do it every weekend when I do Tai Chi at the park across from my house.

That’s great. Well, thank you for your time.

Of course. Thank you for yours.

Photo Credit: Sequoia Ziff

You Gotta Hear This: New Music From JOSEPH, East Nash Grass, and More

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

You Gotta Hear This! It’s another excellent roundup of track and video premieres plus new music arriving on digital “store shelves” today. There’s bluegrass, folk, Americana, and more.

Kicking us off, Kentucky’s Bibelhauser Brothers enlist their hero and friend Sam Bush on their rendition of “One Tin Soldier,” from their upcoming album, Down The Road. As an added bonus, Aaron Bibelhauser and Sam Bush had a nearly hour-long chat about the track, too – you can find and watch that video below. Also in a bluegrass space, Irish ‘grasser Danny Burns offers his cover of “Brother Wind,” a modern classic written by Tim O’Brien. Dan Tyminski joins Burns on the track, which does O’Brien and Darrell Scott’s versions of the song justice, for sure.

Alt- and indie-folk outfit JOSEPH return with new music, bringing us a video for their new track, “Bye and Bye,” borrowing a classic and often ecclesiastical line to explore growth, loss, and the drawn out transformations life brings each of us – while tipping their hat to a bar by the same name. You can also hear Appalachian mountain music duo the Wildmans perform “Autumn 1941,” a song co-written by Berklee’s Mark Simos and Roger Brown that touches on the harrowing reality of eugenics in the mountains of the Southeast.

East Nashville’s favorite band of lovable bluegrass delinquents, East Nash Grass, released a new single earlier this week, too! Don’t miss the excellent and lovely “Followin’ You,” written by ENG guitarist James Kee and new Travelin’ McCourys fiddler Christian Ward especially for Maddie Denton to sing. Plus, Nick Dumas is readying a bluegrass album, offering our readers a peek at a new video for “Where Have You Been,” a song about how sometimes folks you love “go away” without actually leaving.

There’s still more fantastic roots music, though! Award-winning fiddling phenoms Deanie Richardson and Kimber Ludiker are teaming up on a twin-fiddle album coming soon from Mountain Home Music Company; you can hear “Cacklin’ Hen,” the first offering from that project, below. And, wrapping us up this week, Jessica Willis Fisher went into the studio with Bryan Sutton playing guitar and mandolin to record the heartfelt and touching, “Seeds,” a country/Americana flavored track about interrupting generational cycles of pain and trauma and refusing to reap the seeds someone else may have sown in your heart and mind.

It’s quite the collection of music, and, as we say every week: You Gotta Hear This!

Bibelhauser Brothers, “One Tin Soldier” (Featuring Sam Bush)

Artist: Bibelhauser Brothers
Hometown: Louisville, Kentucky
Song: “One Tin Soldier” featuring Sam Bush
Album: Down The Road
Release Date: May 15, 2025 (single)
Label: Common Loon Records

In Their Words: “Our latest collaborative effort, ‘One Tin Soldier,’ marks the first studio version of the familiar song that features Sam Bush singing and playing mandolin. The Father of Newgrass jumped right in as an honorary Bibelhauser Brother on this fourth single from our forthcoming album, Down The Road, slated for release this October. (I actually had a candid, nearly hour-long conversation with Sam on video to chat about the track – check that out here.) With his help, we’ve made an honest attempt to frame this song as a missing link in ‘newgrass’ history, connecting the dots between some larger-than-life personalities quintessential to the evolution of the bluegrass world. Much like many of our heroes, we’d like to keep the traditional torch burning bright, while igniting our own flame, fusing elements of blues, country-rock, and soul with our primordial bluegrass sensibilities.” – Aaron Bibelhauser

Track Credits:
Sam Bush – Mandolin, vocal
Adam Bibelhauser – Vocal, bass
Aaron Bibelhauser – Vocal, guitar
Steve Cooley – Banjo
Jeff Guernsey – Fiddle

Danny Burns, “Brother Wind” (Featuring Dan Tyminski)

Artist: Danny Burns
Hometown: Donegal, Ireland
Song: “Brother Wind” featuring Dan Tyminski
Album: Southern Sky
Release Date: May 16, 2025 (single); August 22, 2025 (album)
Label: Bonfire Recording Co.

In Their Words: “I first discovered ‘Brother Wind’ on the Transatlantic Sessions on BBC many moons ago. I’ve had the great pleasure of knowing Tim O’Brien and working with him — he was one of my very first collaborators in Nashville when we cut a few songs at John Prine and Ferg’s Butcher Shoppe [studio]. I asked him about ‘Brother Wind’ and he said, ‘Yeah, you should cut it.’ So, we did — tried to stay true to his original version while adding something new. Having Dan T. come in and sing on it brought it to another level of cool.” – Danny Burns

Track Credits:
Danny Burns – Vocals, guitars
Dan Tyminski – Vocals
Ethan Burkhardt – Upright bass
Billy Contreras – Fiddle
Matt Menefee – Banjo, mandolin
Cody Kilby – Guitars
Jerry Roe – Drums

Video Credit: Shot by Ryan Kay at the Station Inn, Nashville, Tennessee.

Nick Dumas, “Where Have You Been”

Artist: Nick Dumas
Hometown: Sturgeon Bay, Wisconsin
Song: “Where Have You Been”
Album: Where Have You Been
Release Date: May 16, 2025
Label: Skyline Records

In Their Words: “Everyone has been in that place – where someone close to you just isn’t there like they used to be, even if they haven’t gone anywhere. This song really struck me because of how real and universal that feeling is. And when Jim Van Cleve came in to mix it, he completely brought out the emotional tension in a way that blew me away. There’s this haunting, almost cinematic atmosphere that he created in the mix – it’s ominous, raw, and it elevates the story in a way that made me hear the song differently. It gave the whole track this weight, like you’re walking through fog trying to find someone.” – Nick Dumas

Video Credit: Thomas F. Obrien, TFOBV 

East Nash Grass, “Followin’ You”

Artist: East Nash Grass
Hometown: Madison, Tennessee
Song: “Followin’ You”
Album: All God’s Children
Release Date: May 13, 2025 (single); August 22, 2025 (album)
Label: Mountain Fever

In Their Words: “East Nash Grass was touring Ireland the first time I heard the demo recording of ‘Followin’ You,’ which I was told that our guitar player, James Kee, and our good songwriting pal and fiddler, Christian Ward, had written for me to sing on our upcoming record, All God’s Children. We were on the way to our next gig, driving through scenery too incredible to describe, and I was enchanted by an iPhone recording of Christian playing the guitar and singing this new song. The chorus is simple: following you. That’s all. And right there, in the beauty of simplicity, I understood that we had all been brought together to make this music to share, not because someone told us to or because of any hidden agenda; but purely because there was no other option for us.” – Maddie Denton

Track Credits:
Harry Clark – Mandolin
James Kee – Guitar
Jeff Partin – Bass
Maddie Denton – Fiddle
Cory Walker – Banjo
Gaven Largent – Dobro

JOSEPH, “Bye and Bye”

Artist: JOSEPH
Hometown: Portland, Oregon
Song: “Bye and Bye”
Release Date: May 16, 2025
Label: Nettwerk Music Group

In Their Words: “This song is about being a woman in her late thirties with none of the results she expected from the plans she made – no husband, no house, no kids, no religion. The start of the song came one night when I was getting dinner with my then-girlfriend Talia at a bar called the Bye and Bye on Alberta St. in Portland. Our sister Allie had just quit the band, I was about a year past my divorce, I had a hunch the relationship I was in couldn’t keep going in its current form. I told Talia, ‘I feel like, in a way, I just died. Like everything I am – every bit of identity I’ve had – is over.’ I started crying in the way that isn’t tidy so I ran to the bathroom and let the tears rip. It had been a rough few days and as I sat on the toilet lid bawling I opened my notes app and typed ‘Crying in the bathroom of the Bye and Bye/ Saturday’s mascara in my eye/ it’s Tuesday.’” — Natalie Closner

Deanie Richardson & Kimber Ludiker, “Cacklin’ Hen”

Artist: Deanie Richardson & Kimber Ludiker
Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee; Silver Spring, Maryland
Song: “Cacklin’ Hen”
Release Date: May 16, 2025
Label: Mountain Home Music Company

In Their Words: “I’ve been a Kimber Ludiker fan for many, many years now since I heard her play at the Grand Master’s Fiddler contest. I was a judge that year and she completely blew me away. I think Kimber is one of the most tasteful, versatile fiddlers that we have in bluegrass music today and the work she’s done with Della Mae speaks volumes for her integrity and her talent. Kimber and I have been talking about doing a twin fiddle record for at least three years now and we’re so glad that we found a home and so glad that we found a place to record this record. Mountain Home has been so generous and good to me and allowed Kimber and I the space to come record this twin fiddle record. And we took it back-old school — just twin fiddles through the whole thing and we’re super excited for you guys to hear some fun music.” – Deanie Richardson

“Deanie Richardson has long been one of my favorite fiddlers and has always been my favorite to play with. We’ve been dreaming about a twin fiddle record for years and Mountain Home is the perfect label to share our excitement and vision. With our bands Della Mae and Sister Sadie, we’ve both had a long commitment to showcase and create a platform for women in this music, and we’re excited to add our fiddling to the canon of tunes in our music. I especially hope young girls will be excited to have more and more recordings of instrumentals played by women to inspire their learning.” – Kimber Ludiker

Track Credits:
Deanie Richardson – Fiddle
Kimber Ludiker – Fiddle
Cody Kilby – Acoustic guitar
Hasee Ciaccio – Upright bass
Tristan Scroggins – Mandolin
Kristin Benson – Banjo

The Wildmans, “Autumn 1941”

Artist: The Wildmans
Hometown: Floyd, Virginia
Song: “Autumn 1941”
Album: Longtime Friend
Release Date: July 11, 2025
Label: New West Records

In Their Words: “‘Autumn 1941’ is a song Roger Brown, former Berklee College of Music President, co-wrote with Berklee songwriting professor Mark Simos. Mark has written for Alison Krauss, the Infamous Stringdusters, and Del McCoury. Del recently released the other song in this series titled ‘Working for the WPA.’ The ‘Autumn 1941’ story hails from Roger’s North Carolina Appalachian roots, it was passed down through his family and while some of the specifics remain unknown, different versions of this story of eugenics prove to be true across Appalachian regions and more largely other minorities throughout American early-mid 20th century history. Stories of this same movement took place in Virginia and communities like Floyd, our hometown. Once we got into the studio with this song, it just flowed and out of it came a haunting authenticity we hadn’t yet discovered in our music.” – The Wildmans

Jessica Willis Fisher, “Seeds”

Artist: Jessica Willis Fisher
Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee
Song: “Seeds”
Album: Blooming
Release Date: May 16, 2025
Label: Bard Craft Records

In Their Words: “When we’re young, much of our life is shaped in ways we can’t control. Seeds are planted in our life and when we grow up, we can be left reaping the effects of toxic generational patterns. A big part of my life the last few years has been weeding out so many beliefs and habits that, if left to continue to grow, would choke me to death in many ways. Some days are harder than others and I still have doubts that rise up about which way to go in life, how to best move forward, how to heal from the abuse I experienced when I was younger.

“That vulnerability and honesty felt important to include on this record which centers around healing and growth.” – Jessica Willis Fisher

Track Credits:
Jessica Willis Fisher – Vocals
Bryan Sutton – Acoustic guitar, mandolin
Ben Fowler – Engineer, producer, mix engineer

Photo Credit: JOSEPH by Gardenia Miramontes; East Nash Grass by Scott Simontacchi.

Jack Van Cleaf’s Contemporary Inspirations Playlist

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

One of my most consistent sources of inspiration, when it comes to writing and recording my own songs, is the music of my friends and contemporaries. JVC is an album made amongst friends and the songs were written, if not with their direct help, by the grace of a friend’s emotional support or a colleague’s awe-inspiring set during a time of my life that otherwise felt lonely and lifeless.

In the spirit of that, here’s my Mixtape of 12 songs from contemporary inspirations of mine, whether I know them well or not at all, many of them local to the Nashville scene. – Jack Van Cleaf

“Afterlife” – Joelton Mayfield

This playlist is in no particular order, except maybe when it comes to this song. “Afterlife” was my most-streamed song last year, and Joelton Mayfield is one of the few artists I’ve considered dropping everything for and driving eight hours to catch a set (particularly when he opened for Robert Earl Keen in Winston-Salem). I’m lucky to be close enough in his orbit to catch most of his shows in Nashville, and they never cease to amaze me. If I want my faith in the importance of music restored, I go see a Joelton Mayfield show.

“Laughing Out Loud” – Ethansroom

I’ll never forget when my best friend sent me this song he just wrote. I was holed up in a motel next to my restaurant job in Carlsbad, California, while my family was all down with COVID. He sent me this as a voice memo and I listened to it as I was getting ready for bed; then I listened to it again. It gripped me from the get-go and it still amazes me. I have the privilege of playing nearly every show and recorded track I’ve ever put out alongside Ethan Fortenberry. His musical prowess is only rivaled by his capacity for love, as evidenced by his latest record. This song will always be one of my favorites.

“Lying Lately” – Emma Ogier

Emma Ogier is opening on tour for us this May and it is no exaggeration to say I feel lucky to see her in venues this size while it’s still possible. Emma’s brother, Aidan, also an extremely talented player and writer, is a good friend and introduced me to her music when he invited me to their show in San Diego, when I was living there. Anyone who has seen Emma live knows how powerful her performances are. Songs like this, and the trove of unreleased music I’ve heard her play, keep me inspired and constantly on the edge of my seat for the next line she delivers.

“Groundhog Day” – Nic Fair

I saw Nic play a Halloween set at the East Room just over a year ago and I’ve been itching to see another show of his since. His vocal runs will stun you first, but directly after that you’ll be immersed in his lyrical world of unexpected images and keen metaphors as exhibited in “Groundhog Day,” one of my personal favorites that I remember clearly from that Halloween show.

“Tomatoes” – Briston Maroney

Briston Maroney has just come out with an amazing new album. I was lucky enough to get the sneaky link and I’ve listened to it front-to-back over and over again for the past few weeks. To me, JIMMY seems like a perfect balance between where Briston’s been and where he’s going. I hear familiar traces of songs like the ones on “Carnival” while enjoying something totally brand new: like the narrative moment in this song when Briston talks about “picking out his grave at the graveyard” – it’s fresh and I’m addicted to it. I’ve felt very fortunate to have lots of meaningful conversations with Briston about life and art over the years; he continues to inspire me as a friend and from a distance, as an outside observer of his brilliant work.

“co-pilot” – Val Hoyt

I pursued Jack Schneider, guitar virtuoso and tape enthusiast local to East Nashville, to record my live acoustic album because of his work on Val Hoyt’s Muscle Spasms. This record is full of beautiful songs, masterfully written and recorded. Val’s guitar performances coupled with his unique melodic and lyrical approach to songwriting stops me in my tracks. This song has me singing along in my car every time it finds its way, inevitably, to my monthly playlists. It’s the lyrics and Val’s vocal performance that get me, but Jack Schneider’s guitar solo being possibly my favorite acoustic guitar solo I’ve ever heard doesn’t hurt, either.

“Camcorder (recovered)” – Macho Planet

It’s no secret to most of the indie singer/songwriter scene in Nashville, but Macho Planet’s ‘Still, You Don’t Joke About It’ is near flawless. It’s an album I come back to again and again and hold in the highest regard as a blueprint for a successfully crafted full-length record. I find a new gem every time. “Camcorder” could be considered the hit off the record, boasting the most streams. It was my gateway song into Austin’s music, and it functions as a great introduction to an equally magnetic catalogue of songs that will remain special to you long after the first listen.

“Ovid” – Annie DiRusso

I had been bumping the singles to Annie DiRusso’s debut album, Super Pedestrian, for months leading up to its release; it was no surprise to press play on her record on release day and be greeted by this rock masterpiece. The opening line draws me right in (still have no idea what it’s about) and the very relatable reprise keeps coming back again and again every time I hop in the car. It’s one of those lyrics that leaves me surprised I haven’t heard it before, because it feels timeless: “Always looking for something to change my life/ Never wanna hear nothing to change my mind.”

“Heaven Is” – Melanie MacLaren

Melanie does an incredible job of writing Americana songs that carry the torch of greats like Gillian Welch while bringing something totally new, fresh, and honest to the table. Her lyrics are a well-balanced mix of captivating imagery and straightforward truth telling. “Heaven Is” is an awesome example of her ability to make a listener enjoy a song that forces them to face their own mortality.

“high achiever” — Charli Adams

Charli sang on one of the songs on my record, JVC. She lent her voice to the bridge of the second song, “Piñata.” I asked her to do this because Charli’s voice is one of my favorites in the singer-songwriter world. It’s completely unique to her, incomparable to anyone else I can think of. On top of this, Charli’s long been an inspiration to me in her songwriting. Her EP, nothing to be scared of, is a vulnerable look at childhood and self-growth that spares not difficult topic. “high achiever” is one of my slow-burning favorites.

“I Like to Worship the Devil” – Dan Spencer

This man is a master of writing lyrics that engage a sense of humor while still remaining totally sincere and heart-wrenching. Some of the best theological lyrics I’ve heard, put forward so casually, come from Dan Spencer’s songs. This one gets me singing along every time. (Dan’s voice is probably the only one that can get me to sing, full-heartedly at the top of my lungs, “Pissed my pants and shit the bed.”)

“Neighbors” – Future Crib

I was fortunate enough to see Future Crib at their album release show at The Blue Room in Nashville, just a couple weeks before I played mine there. I don’t hesitate to say that they may be the best band we have today. The love amongst the members and in the music they make is so palpable that it’s hard not to feel. Every time I see a show of theirs I feel I’m a part of something important. The performance of this one at their release show, and the energy in the crowd, was particularly memorable.

Photo Credit: Sam Lindsay

Dualities & Disorientation: Olive Klug is Older, Wiser, and Still Feels Like a ‘Lost Dog’

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

“If the world is my oyster I’ve been poking at it with a plastic fork,” sings Olive Klug on “Taking Punches from the Breeze,” the first track off their second album, Lost Dog, which released April 25. Klug writes with a mesmerizing combination of levity and intensity about a slightly off-kilter world. Through closeups on minute, funny, and revealing moments in life, they illustrate how schisms can be beautiful, too, if you see them right.

Though often joyful and whimsical, Lost Dog isn’t always rosy. On it, Klug works through immense life and perspective shifts. Their takes on breakups – “The butterflies have all got broken wings” (“Cold War”) – and depression – “When my friend hangs up / and my mind turns gray” (“Opposite Action”) – are refreshing not for their angst but for their realism. But nowhere is their combination of playful, revealing storytelling more evident than on “Train of Thought,” their love letter to their neurodivergent brain.

There’s a train in the sky in the middle of my mind and it’s flying off a one-way track
And they try to button up my suit and tie in an attempt to hold me back
But I’m this strange old conductor wearing pearls and a backwards baseball cap…

Klug grew up in Oregon and studied psychology in college, intending to work towards a master’s degree and career in social work. Not long after graduation, the COVID-19 pandemic hit and they lost their job. Like so many others, Klug ended up at home, on TikTok. There, music took off fast, and their song “Raining in June” scored them an audience. From there, life hit warp speed – a record deal, a move, a music career, a new relationship – and then it fell apart.

Now older and recalibrating, they’re releasing their second album, Lost Dog (their Signature Sounds debut), about aging with a neurodivergent brain, leaning into their differences, and coming to terms with not having everything figured out.

Your first album, Don’t You Dare Make Me Jaded, came out in 2023 and now we’re talking about your new album, Lost Dog. You’ve lived a lot of life between recording the two albums and you’re clearly writing from a different place this time around. What’s changed for you between those two projects?

Olive Klug: I was 23, 24 when I really started to pursue music as a career. I was not particularly young, but I was kind of naive in the music industry world. I blew up pretty quickly after giving it a go and then moved to LA and signed a record deal. When I look back, I had a lot of hubris, I was very self involved. I was living in LA. It was very exciting. I thought “I’ve made it.” I was making all my money off of music. [But] I was dropped from that record label directly after the release of that album, Don’t You Dare Make Me Jaded, which I think now is kind of like funny and ironic and is hilarious.

That’s funny, “Damn, I said don’t.”

So I was dropped from that label and I also went through a breakup. I had these two years of riding this crazy high and then everything came tumbling down at the same moment. I realized that that whole era of my life was a little bit gilded; that relationship wasn’t right for me, that record label wasn’t right for me. But I looked like I had it together on the outside.

All of that made me dig pretty deep into what I wanted out of my life. It was a moment of soul searching and a moment of having to believe in myself, understand who I was, and motivate myself to keep going in music, because there was nobody around me believing in me anymore.

The past two years have been this wild journey of figuring out what I want, figuring out who I am, and maturing and leaving that hubris behind – and [leaving] that life behind. Since that happened, I moved to Nashville, Tennessee, I recorded a bunch of songs, I wrote a bunch of songs. I bought a van. I now live in my van, but I still don’t really have things totally figured out. I’m still lost at times. I think that’s the reality for a lot of people my age.

I’m in my late 20s now and I think that this album is really about the moment that I woke up. I was 27 and things were less figured out than they were when I was 24. That’s where the Lost Dog title comes from, feeling like I am getting older yet I am still feeling like a lost dog, wandering around the country.

There is so much pressure in this world to have it figured out or to be one specific way, and it feels like you’re pushing back on that and saying you don’t have to do that if it’s not right for you.

I’m not really trying to make a statement. My first album, I tried to tie all of my songs up in this neat little bow to be like, “Here is the message that I want to send with this song.” This next album is much more unfiltered. It’s just what came out of me. This is my experience. I’m not trying to reassure anybody with these songs.

You’ve said that this album is about aging as a neurodivergent free spirit. Particularly talking about “Train of Thought,” where you’re leaning into the chaos you feel inside your brain sometimes, instead of trying to hide it. What about that experience felt like what you needed to write about on this album?

I spent my adolescence trying hard to fit in. I had my little secret moments at home. But at school and in my regular life, I got good grades. I dressed up in a way that I thought would be rewarded [at] school. I still was very [much] conforming to my gender, and I tried really hard to be “normal.” I was scared of what would happen to me socially if I did not try to fit in, even though there was this part of me that really wanted to be different.

It wasn’t until my adulthood that I felt the freedom to experiment more with my identity and experiment more with rejecting those norms. I think that’s totally the opposite of what a lot of people experience. A lot of people, when they’re a teenager, they rebel and they dress really crazy and they try to be as weird and challenge the norms as much as possible. I didn’t start doing that until maybe even slightly after college. Since then, it’s been a deep spiral down into allowing myself the freedom to really be myself.

I didn’t understand that I was neurodivergent. I didn’t understand that my brain worked a little differently than other people. Now I’m like, “Well, what do I have to lose? I’m just going to be totally myself.” Having this community of people who are my listeners and fans who really like that about me, and who really celebrate that about me, has been really healing. I think that a lot of artists and writers are neurodivergent in some way and the superpower of it is that’s what allows us to write the way that we do. That’s what [“Train of Thought”] is about, allowing myself to stop trying to put myself in a box and let the chaos of my mind roam totally free.

I’m curious about “Taking Punches from the Breeze,” which is you letting yourself wander in a different way. There are these great lines in there like, “…If the world’s my oyster I’ve been poking at it with a plastic fork.” I don’t think anybody has ever presented that concept before in that way.

I wrote that one living in an apartment in LA by myself. And I love living alone. It’s like the best for my creative flow. But I was really sad. It was in the aftermath of that breakup and being dropped from the record label where I wrote these songs. “Taking Punches From the Breeze” was one of the first ones I wrote. That and “Cold War” were the beginning of this Lost Dog era, so to speak. I got really high one night, to be so honest with you. I was in my apartment and I had just gone on– you know when you have your first date after a breakup? I was on this first date after a breakup. I feel like I am pretty good at asking other people questions and I was asking this person all these questions. Then they would turn around and ask me those questions and I’d be like, “God, I don’t know what I’m doing right now.”

When I’m doing shows, I’m like, “Oh, I’m a Gemini. That’s why this album is the way it is.” I think it’s true, it’s about holding a lot of dualities. A constant disorientation is what I’ve really felt for the past two years. But there’s a lot of fun and joy and possibility in that constant disorientation. It can be hard at the same time.

The other side of the duality, or another part of the duality, is “Opposite Action,” where you’re really pretty down in the middle of the album. Tell me about writing that song.

That was also in that time. I think it was late summer, I was in my apartment in LA feeling weird. I was a psychology major, and I learned about DBT [Dialectical Behavioral Therapy]. That song borrows from a DBT concept called opposite action. I remember having questions about it when I learned about it. But it’s basically the concept that you do the opposite of what your instincts are telling you to do: If you are feeling particularly depressed, you’re supposed to take a deep breath and try to do the opposite. So if you wake up and you want to lay in bed all day and do nothing, you’re supposed to force yourself to go out and be social, go to the park, go to the beach.

I was like, “I’m gonna go to the beach, even if it’s by myself. I’m gonna try to plant things in my backyard.” It was all these things that I was trying to do to make myself feel better, but then feeling really frustrated, because I was taking good care of myself and I still felt bad.

How the song really started was, as a touring musician, so many of the things that people tell you to do to establish some sort of stability and happiness are just impossible to do. Growing plants is something that I would love to be able to do. I can’t do that, because I’m not at my house most of the time. I came back from a trip or a show or something and I had tried to grow jalapeños and tomatoes in my little back patio area. They had died.

That to me is one of the things that really sticks out about your music. You have this way of dialing in on these minute observations. Is that how your brain works all the time? Is that how you’re seeing the world?

I don’t know, maybe. I don’t know how people see the world differently or not. But my writing does feel sort of matter of fact to me oftentimes. So maybe that is how I see the world.

It’s matter of fact, but it’s really joyful.

I think a lot of Lost Dog is coping with those decisions I can’t really take back. If I had gone down that traditional path, if I had gone to grad school, become a therapist, I would have health insurance right now, I would have job security right now. There would be a lot of things that I would have right now that I lack in my life. It is scary to be even a semi-successful musician. I have no certainty. It’s really, really hard to feel any sense of stability or certainty. And to not have any health insurance and to not have any benefits, and all of that stuff, it can be really scary. I wish that small working artists had that. It makes me feel like I’m never going to be able to really have a family, if I go keep going at this rate, I am never going to be able to go to the dentist.

That’s the thing that I really wish more people understood. You’re looking at this artist on stage every night and you relate to their music, they’re still on the road maybe 200 days a year. They don’t have that personal life stability. They don’t have that health insurance often. Even if you think they’re well known, the margins are so crummy and what it takes is so intense.

But if I had not taken this risk, I would always wonder what would have happened. I’m really glad I took the risk. It’s such an incredible payoff. One thing that I can always feel when I’m on stage every night is I have the most fulfilling career ever. That is something that I will never question.

People are like, “I want to have a job that has meaning and that feels aligned with what I’m good at and who I am.” Every night I go on stage, I’m getting paid to do the thing that I feel like I am meant to be doing and that is really worth it. Maybe one day that will include some stability.

And just like that, we’re back to dualities.

Yes, exactly.

Photo Credit: Alex Steed

Trousdale’s It’s All Happening Playlist

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

We’re figuring it out, one day at a time. Sometimes life can go by so fast, one can forget to savor the moment.

These songs keep us present and feeling alive. Our new album, Growing Pains, talks about the highs and lows of life and the emotions that come along with balancing your career and mental health. This collection of songs is what we’re currently listening to as it’s all happening. – Trousdale

“There’s A Rhythm” – Bon Iver

“Can I really still complain” just hits me so hard. The chord progression, the tempo, the production– everything about this song gets me into a meditative zone of presence and reflection. – Georgia Greene

“Sapling” – Foy Vance

“I wished I could go back in time, but all I could do was apologize. Right then, your eyes were healing…” I mean come on. – GG

“Molly I’m Coming Around” – Annika Bennett

This song just feels like a warm blanket of truth – being honest with yourself and others. – GG

“Don’t Stop” – Fleetwood Mac

This one was definitely a sonic inspiration for the album. It has such a positive vibe and message and helps remind us that there’s always another day to try again. – GG, Quinn D’Andrea, Lauren Jones

“Green Light” – Darlingside

This song just feels like a meditation, the chord progression feels like it’s existed forever, and the lyrics feel like they could be spoken as a prayer. Could listen to this song on loop forever. – QD

“Let’s Be Still” – The Head And The Heart

I need a constant reminder to move slower. This song is perfect for that. – LJ

“My Love For You Is A Straight Line” – Ken Yates

This song feels like coming home to myself. – LJ

“Never Been Better” – Ben Abraham

Coming from an artist who also understands the grind of this life we’ve chosen, I feel like Ben puts this feeling perfectly. Sometimes when we’re overwhelmed it’s just helpful to hear that exact feeling validated and put into words. – QD

“Look Up” – Joy Oladokun

I love this song when I need a reminder to zoom out. We can get so caught up in the everyday stress, and the words of this song coupled with the arrangement is the perfect opportunity to remember that this life is so much more than that. – QD

“You Make Me Feel Like Dancing” – Leo Sayer

Listen to this song for an immediate dose of serotonin. – LJ

Photo Credit: Alex Lang

Valerie June is Weaving Spells Again

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Valerie June’s new album – Owls, Omens, and Oracles (released on April 11 by Concord Records) – begins with a snare and a hi-hat. A simple, straight-forward rhythm. Something to wrest you from your chair and get you moving your body.

After a few bars, her distinct, earnest, energetic vocals enter and it feels as though you’re surrounded by a circle of Valerie Junes singing in delightful unison. Urging you on. It’s just her voice and the drum for thirty-five seconds, then she lands on the word “joy” and the whole song bursts open with a distorted guitar and so many cymbals.

Like the “Joy, Joy” for which the song is titled, sound layers build and build, rippling out further and further until it all fades. By then, you’re well into the room. The colors are swirling. There seems to be joy and love hanging from the chandeliers. If you close your eyes, perhaps you can imagine the colors bursting forth from the guitar when it finally takes a solo.

Indeed, whether or not you experience synesthesia – a condition some musicians report where they associate sound and color – there is something undeniably colorful about the music June puts into the world. This is as true as ever on the new disc, which feels even more focused on joy’s pursuit and on holding joy aloft once it is within one’s grasp.

The celebrated poet and activist adrienne maree brown, who wrote June’s promotional bio for the project, notes: “This album is a radical statement to break with the skepticism, surveillance, and doom scrolling – let yourself celebrate your aliveness. Connect, weep, change, open.”

Indeed, connecting and weeping – through joy and heartache alike – is central to June’s artistic journey. This notion, that her music might be urging its listeners to celebrate aliveness, is particularly resonant on Owls. After all, June, who divides her time between Tennessee and New York, is a certified yoga teacher and mindfulness meditation instructor. One might extrapolate, then, that music, for Valerie June, is equal parts connective tissue and spiritual experience.

“No one who makes music can truly tell you where it comes from,” she said on a recent Zoom call. “We don’t know where we’re getting it from. It’s coming from someplace and I like to think that place is magical.”

Similarly, she adds, “Spirit is something that we don’t really know. We can’t really – exactly – put our finger on where it’s coming from. We just feel it. … I think that it’s a very spiritual thing to make music. It’s not necessarily religious, but it is definitely spiritual. It will connect you to a deeper part of yourself, but it will also connect you to deeper parts of other people – and to nature.”

Across her six albums in nearly twenty years, June has sung about nature plenty. The night sky, the creatures of the forest. From her rendition of a classic, “The Crawdad Song,” (2006’s The Way of the Weeping Willow) to the eagle and rooster in “You Can’t Be Told” (2013’s Pushin’ Against a Stone), to the “still waters” and “dormant seas” of “Stardust Scattering” (2021’s The Moon and the Stars: Prescriptions for Dreamers), June has turned to nature for solace, clarity, and metaphor.

Lately, though, she has been somewhat haunted by owls.

“In Tennessee,” she explains, “we have a pond behind the house and there’s a lot of wildlife. There’s muskrats and frogs and snakes and fish and all kinds [of animals]. We just went and bought like ten carp fish to go in the pond to help keep the algae down and stuff. But one morning, I was walking into the kitchen. I start my day with black tea and there’s mist on the pond in the morning, and so everything’s kind of like foggy. I’m making my tea. It’s like five o’clock in the morning and my eyes are all puffy. … There’s a window where you can see right across the pond and see this mist and everything, and there is an owl on this post of the fence on the far side. It’s just looking in at me, and I’m looking out at it.”

She and this same owl had a few more encounters after that initial one and June started thinking there was something to it. Whether it was a spirit visiting her on purpose, or just a magical coincidence that she and this creature were in the same place at the same time on a planet so full of people and creatures, there was something to this brief, recurring coexistence.

While June admits she never sits down on purpose to write a song – she opens to them and they come – the owl started to worm its way into her periphery while she was writing. She started reading everything she could find about owls, learning about their habits and idiosyncrasies. She felt like she was harnessing some owl energy as she captured the melodies that would make up this album.

“You can listen to the old blues songs,” she explains, “and you will hear about the black snake, or about the mojo, or different things like that. There’s magic in the music, if you ask me. I … enjoy being a root worker and understanding that music can shift moods. It has that power. It can start movements. It can energize people or make them feel so tender that they’re able to cry when they need to.

“I definitely feel like I work with those energies. I don’t just sing, you know. Because, I mean, there’s a lot of singers who have more beautiful-sounding voices than me. I’m weaving spells.”

Indeed, June’s spells weave their way through Owls.

One moment, she’s turning off the news to remember we’re all indelibly connected “like branches of an endless tree” (“Endless Tree”). Then, she’s breathing through doubt with “Trust the Path,” a quiet, echoic piano song that sounds like it blew in on a breeze. There’s the spoken word piece, “Superpower,” with its meditative background and dreamlike soundscape built atop her voice and producer M. Ward’s guitar, among other things. Suddenly June is clawhammering a banjo and singing about misguided love (“My Life Is a Country Song”). And finally, there’s the folky earworm song “Love and Let Go,” with its horns and piano and layered unison vocals.

The album starts with joy and ends with acceptance – which is part of joy. Though it weaves through different styles and soundscapes, there is this throughline of keeping to the path, trusting the light, sourcing the joy.

Most of this is due to June’s songwriting and performance, of course. But at least some of it can be credited to her producer Ward – the chameleon-like guitarist and singer-songwriter who has produced for and collaborated with a who’s who of indie artists. As for her experience with this particular collaboration, June doesn’t hold back when lavishing Ward with praise.

“It was kind of the most amazing experience I’ve had in making records,” she says.

“He can play anything. He’s on the vibraphones. He’s on the keys. He’s on the guitar. I mean. … [For him,] whatever genre a song wants to be is what a song is and at the end of the day I enjoy rocking out. I like turning up my electric guitar and my amp and just going crazy with this kind of like a dirty blues-rock sound. And him – he got the best tones and sounds in his guitar playing.”

The pair first decided to make a record together when they crossed paths at Newport Folk Festival. June noticed that they were on the schedule for the same day, so she texted Ward and he invited her up to sing with him.

“When I got offstage, after watching him play that blues-rock like just a genius, [my] jaw [was] on the floor. Like, that was amazing. It was just him solo, too, with like three or four different guitars up there. So I said, ‘Well, when are we gonna make this record we’ve been talking about making?’”

Two months later, they crossed paths again, this time at San Francisco’s Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival. “We were on the same day again, so auspicious,” she remembers. “And so we worked together there. He said, ‘Okay, we have to make this happen now. We’ve seen each other two times in one year.’”

Before another year passed, they were in the studio, running with the genre-defiant sounds that were pouring out of June’s magic mind.

The phrase June used to employ for describing her music was “organic moonshine roots” – a description she’s stopped using since her friend who coined it passed away. Meanwhile, her life has taken on its own metamorphoses. She has found and lost love, has branched out in new directions, has pulled in guitar, ukulele, and banjo. She has made music with artists as variant as the Avett Brothers and Blind Boys of Alabama (the latter appear in the background on Owls). When not on the road, she hosts meditation retreats and teaches mindfulness at places like the Kripalu Center for Yoga and Health in the Berkshires. She writes poetry and has published a picture book for children.

Naturally, all of this has fed her appetite for melody and it’s all added to the tapestry of sound that defines her music. There is country in there, for sure. Also some semblance of jazz, R&B, pop, and just plain individualistic, raw grit. This time around, on Owls, Omens, and Oracles, genre seems like a silly thing to even try to pin down.

During a SXSW interview in 2023, writer Wajahat Ali asked June about the ineffability of her style and she didn’t hesitate. “It’s Valerie June music,” she told him. “I’m a singer-songwriter and whatever comes out, comes out. Sometimes it is honey, sometimes it’s vinegar.”

Sometimes it’s black tea and mist on a pond, crickets chirping and muskrats scattering, an owl standing still on a post, blinking its eyes as you stand there blinking yours. It’s a reminder of what truly matters.

To June, what matters is everything.

“Are you ready to see a world where we can all be free?” she asks. “I’m ready to see a world where we can learn to disagree with each other and still live together peacefully.”

“We’re ready to see this world be a place of togetherness,” she adds later. Learning to cooperate, she says, is “not just important for humans. It’s important for all of nature. … Nature will be okay, of course, without us. But it would be nice if we could figure out ways to move toward a more cooperative existence with all [things] in nature.”

Photo Credit: Travys Owen

ANNOUNCING: “Finding Lucinda” by ISMAY Joins BGS Podcast Network

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

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.

LISTEN: APPLE • SPOTIFY • AMAZON • MP3

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.

Photo Credit: Aubrey Trinnaman

Love More, Care Less: Martin Kerr’s Songs of Hope for Dark Times

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

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 sister’s 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.

Photo Credit: Shaun Scade

Basic Folk: Susan Werner

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

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.

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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.

Basic Folk: Jon Muq

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

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.

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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.

Photo Credit: Will Byington