Husband-and-wife indie-folk duo Drew & Ellie Holcomb have been making music together for 20 years. Ellie was a member of Drew Holcomb & the Neighbors when they first collaborated on a record in 2005 (now out of print). That was followed by 2007’s A Million Miles Away, which was then succeeded by something like their breakout, Passenger Seat, in 2008.
Over the years since, they’ve built up the Neighbors – and their cohort of friends, neighbors, fans, and listeners – into a more than tidy little paradise of a musical cul-de-sac, with more than a dozen releases (together and separately) and amassing more than a hundred million streams.
This year, the pair put out their first full-length duo album together, as equal fronting artists with the Neighbors behind them. Memory Bank, released on January 24, looks forward while looking back – a hallmark and through line of the duo, their group, and their creative output across their two-decade career. So many of the songs on Memory Bank seem to speak to the longevity they have – “Rain or Shine,” “Shut Up and Dance,” “Never Gonna Let You Go,” “Bones” – there’s a wisdom and perspective in this album that speaks to the distance they’ve traveled together. As well as denoting the upcoming miles they have yet to cover as partners, parents, and musical collaborators.
With the release of Memory Bank, we thought it was the perfect opportunity to stroll down memory lane with Drew & Ellie Holcomb, to contrast their latest project and the artists they have become now with their early projects and the artists they were then, in our most recent edition of First & Latest.
I wonder, as you put together this Memory Bank, what memories from 2008 and that first album came up for you? How did that nearly 20-year history of making music filter into this project and its songs?
Drew Holcomb: Honestly, Passenger Seat was not even the first project. There was a record in 2005 called Washed in Blue that Ellie sang on that has been scrubbed from the internet. We put on an album called A Million Miles Away in 2007, which had a bunch of songs like “I Like to Be with Me When I’m With You” and “Hung the Moon” and others. I think the younger version of us was much less confident, in a way. We were flying blind. We hadn’t made a lot of records yet and you don’t know what you’re doing in the studio. We didn’t know what we were doing as songwriters. Ellie was just a member of the band at the time.
Ellie Holcomb: I was a neighbor with benefits. The starkest difference for me between Passenger Seat in 2008 and Memory Bank in 2025 is an open-handedness and a freedom that comes with the death of ego and also with a general posture of curiosity and gratitude.
You are both prolific creators – together and separately – how have you balanced your individual musical identities with your collective work over that time period? Do you find it to be an easy balance or a tricky one?
EH: One of my favorite things about us doing music both together and separately is that there’s a massive amount of respect for each other. The reason it took us 20 years to write and record an album together is because we’ve always honored that artistic and creative space with each other. We write really differently, we create really differently. I think that mutual respect and space that we’ve given each other made space for us to make what we we’ve released into the world now – and I love it.
DH: My only addition is a short answer: No, it’s not an easy balance. It’s very tricky, but it’s worth it.
I think our relationship definitely manifests itself through the music. I think on the one hand, there’s like the aspiration – love songs are often about the love that you hope that you have. So, when you’re young and you’re speaking about when you get older, you’re making a promise to yourself and to each other about the kind of love you hope for. There’s also a bit of the truths of your own personalities make it into songs.
There’s clearly a mission and a message in your music, and I think that’s part of your staying power as artists and part of why over so many releases in so many iterations – as a couple, with the Neighbors, as solo artists, as collaborators on outside projects – your songs continue to resonate with audiences in such an authentic and down to earth way. I wonder how much of that encouragement folks get from your music that you get, yourselves? I can see that being a big part of how you’ve gotten this far and are still moving forward.
EH: I’d say we talk to our kids a lot about what a stage is for and we always tell them that a stage is to bring joy. It’s a shared space where our stories mingle together. Music is a bridge builder. Our mission, if you will, with music is that it would help people connect to their own story and that it would help people connect to everybody else and feel a little less alone. There’s this beautiful quote that says we decorate space with art and we use music to decorate time. We feel so deeply grateful that people have used our songs to decorate like the time and the seasons of their lives, sorrow, joy, road trips, family gatherings, etc.
What will you take with you in your “memory bank” as you move forward, as you stare down the next 17 years of making music together? What do you see as your touchstones – or, alternatively, what do you hope you’ll look back and recall if we were to have this conversation again in 20 more years?
DH: Our memory bank as we move forward in the next 17 years of making music together, we are always trying to keep growing. I didn’t know how to sing harmony until this record. I learned how to sing harmony, not with the intention of making a record, but because I wanted to learn. Ellie’s learning piano with similar intentions. There are always new songs to find.
When you were making and releasing Passenger Seat, where did you see yourself now, all these years later? Was this always the goal? Did it seem like a pipe dream that you’d still be doing this together? Or was it inevitable?
DH: Music was definitely not inevitable. When I started making music, Ellie was a school teacher with no intention of being a professional musician. So we have just taken it a year at a time.
Exuberance is the exact right mood on a day when the transcendental Valerie June announces a new album, and exuberant is certainly the vibe of her new track, “Joy, Joy!” and its brand new accompanying music video. (Watch above.) The song was dropped this morning in tandem with an announcement of the Memphis native’s new album, Owls, Omens, and Oracles, produced by M. Ward and arriving April 11 via Concord Records.
“Joy, Joy!” begins with June planting an illuminated seed singing, “There’s a light that you can find/ If you stop to take the time…” a prescient reminder to stay grounded, connected, and searching for the light. With a Rosetta Tharpe-esque Epiphone SG in hand, the track broadens and blooms, showcasing vibrant colors, whimsical scenes, and a cosmic style that June has become known for.
The antidote for darkness – for all that may challenge us – resides within us, June shouts in the chorus. It’s clear she’s not only reminding her listeners of this fact, but herself, too. “Joy, Joy!” is a delicious three-minute bite that will stick to your ribs and, hopefully, grow a seed of joy in each of our hearts.
“Everyone has felt moments of darkness, depression, anxiety, stress, ailments, or pain,” June explains, via press release. “Some say it takes mud to have a lotus flower.”
“This song reflects on the hard times we might face: to fail, to fall, to lose, to be held down, to be silenced, to be shut out yet still hold onto a purely innocent and childlike joy. I come from a heritage of ancestors who lived this truth by inventing blues music,” she continues. “Generations after theyʼve gone, the inner joy they instilled in us radiates and lifts cultures throughout the world. From the world to home, what would a city council focused on inspiring inner joy for all of a town’s citizens look like? As the times are changing across the planet, what would it look like to collectively activate our superpowers of joy?”
It’s certainly the perfect message and song for this day and age, delivered as only an artist like Valerie June could deliver it. By another creator, it might seem saccharine or twee to face our daily reality with joy exclusively as a shield. But June demonstrates joy is just one of many important tools we all need to hold onto while we face these “hard times.” Except, this is a joy without blinders on – it’s eyes-wide-open to the truth that acknowledging and challenging hardship and inequity requires a joy that need not deny those hardships’ existence in order to have transformative power.
Owls, Omens, and Oracles is poised to continue June’s post-genre explorations of psychedelia, rock and roll, folk, Appalachian music, blues, string band, and so much more, as well as featuring special guests like the Blind Boys of Alabama and Norah Jones. No one is making music quite like Valerie June and, from this first listen especially, it seems the roots music envelope will continue to be pushed and pushed and pushed some more by June with this new release. And, June will be taking the project on the road with an extensive full band tour stretching from March through the summer. Tickets are on sale now.
(Editor’s Note: Ben Nichols and Rick Steff, two members of Lucero, recently released a special acoustic album, Lucero Unplugged, reimagining songs from across the band’s 25-year catalog. To celebrate its release on January 24, we asked the pair to curate a Mixtape for BGS.)
Rick and I each chose five songs for this playlist focusing on the spaces in between the notes. We feel these songs illustrate that sometimes it’s the notes that are chosen not to be played that add weight and impact. It’s the spaces in between the notes that bring life to the notes that are there. Rick’s picks naturally focus on piano players and my own choices lean more towards acoustic guitars. It’s easy to tell who suggested which songs. But I love the list we ended up with. Thanks for letting us participate in this and thanks for listening. – Ben Nichols
With all these choices it’s the notes not played, the spaces between, the breaths between the sounds. When making Lucero Unplugged these players and records informed a lot of the choices and approaches I took with regards to dynamics and voicings, and mainly just trying to be a solid accompanist for Ben and to the song. – Rick Steff
“Dayton Ohio 1903” – Randy Newman
Randy Newman is the king of piano voicing. Where he places his notes is always perfect. He’s also an amazing accompanist and I always think of him whenever I record piano. This often overlooked song shows all of that as well as being a portal to another time. – RS
“Florida” – Thomas Dollbaum
One of my favorite (mainly) acoustic records. A friend turned me on to Thomas’ album, Wellswood, and I liked it so much I asked Thomas to come to The Whitewater Tavern in my hometown of Little Rock and play my 50th birthday party with me. In the song “Florida” we hear a story that’s rough around the edges sung in a voice that’s vulnerable, but builds with the music and then pulls the rug out from under you, punching you in the gut. He’s so good he makes me jealous. – BN
“Waterlow” – Mott the Hoople
Ian Hunter. No band was more influential to me than Mott the Hoople and their early records have amazing keyboard parts. “Waterlow” reminds me of Lucero songs compositionally. Beautiful song and lovely piano arpeggio that follows the vocal. – RS
“Goin’ Down South” – R.L. Burnside
The haunting drone of this early R.L. Burnside recording captured my imagination the first time I heard it. In between the driving acoustic guitar licks and the churning vocals you can hear the Mississippi Hill Country nights. You can see the Mississippi River and feel its meandering presence as it makes its way south relentlessly, through the middle of the country. – BN
“I Keep a Close Watch” – John Cale
John Cale. Again, all about accompanying. This performance has always been a favorite of mine from the ex-Velvet Underground solo catalog. John’s piano work in the Velvets has also influenced and showed up on Lucero records for sure. – RS
“Good Woman” – Cat Power
The Lucero song “When You Decided to Leave,” featured on the new Lucero Unplugged album Rick and I just released, was written after I heard this Cat Power song. The lyrics about leaving something you love, being a “good” or “bad” woman or man, and the conflict and heartbreak bound up in that hit me hard. The instrumentation and performances accentuate that ache and desire. A desire for someone (maybe ourselves) to be a way they cannot be. – BN
“A Salty Dog” – Procol Harum
Gary Brooker was an amazing pianist and this song features something I’ve tried to achieve on various recordings throughout the years, the piano vignette. A small section removed from everything else that resets the song in a unique way. Like a structured solo, sort of. This is to me one of the most moving songs of the sixties and often still brings me a tear. Same band as “Whiter Shade of Pale,” by the way. – RS
“Bruised Ribs” – Joey Kneiser
I’d been a fan of Joey Kneiser’s band, Glossary, for years and when he released this acoustic solo album I fell in love with it. The straightforward presentation with delicate and thoughtful accompaniment lets the power of his simply perfect lyrics shine through. It doesn’t get much better than this. This album definitely influenced me to write some solo acoustic songs myself. – BN
“Ruby’s Arms” – Tom Waits
It’s difficult to choose one Tom Waits song to show his piano style, having spent decades with his music. His barroom piano voicings and dramatic tempo rises and falls – “Ruby’s Arms” showcases those beautifully and heartbreakingly. – RS
“Living on the Moon” – Adam Faucett
Adam is from Little Rock, Arkansas (like me), and this song is one of my favorites. Again, it goes back to the spaces in between the notes– the choices he made about the sounds we hear. We hear everything we need and nothing we don’t for the ultimate emotional impact. There is a preciseness to the recordings of all the songs on this list that I haven’t been able to capture much in my career. But I love it. And I’m still learning and hopefully there is a little of that on this new Lucero Unplugged album. – BN
It’s a simple sounding question, one that invites discussion about structure, melody, production techniques and more (and certainly has no real answer). It’s also something Humbird explores on her transcendent new record, Astrovan: The Love Song Vignettes, which follows last year’s critically acclaimed Humbird LP, Right On.
Written before the pandemic, the 11-song project spans just 16 minutes, but is expansive in its vision and emotional depth, as principal Siri Undlin muses on love in its many forms using varied musical styles. The resulting album is especially meditative when enjoyed in one sitting and invites listeners to consider how love is present in their own lives, whether in the beauty of nature or in small, domestic gestures from loved ones.
Below, BGS caught up with Undlin to chat about making Astrovan, finding beauty in mundane moments and how creative restrictions can often lead to happy artistic accidents.
This new project is such a cool idea with these short vignettes. I’d love to hear a little bit about the project’s beginnings and how that idea came to you?
Siri Undlin: It started off very much not an album. I was struggling to write and struggling to feel inspired. A friend of mine was like, “Why don’t you write simple, short songs and not worry about if they’re good or not?” I had recently fallen in love, so I was trying to write some love songs that weren’t super annoying. I was like, “Maybe short is the way.” So, yeah, it was just a goofy project that I sometimes did at live shows, because it’s funny.
People usually get a kick out of it and it’s fun to talk on stage about what a song is, like, “Why do we expect it to be a certain length?” It’s a fun, intimate audience moment. But then, a couple of friends who are really talented producers and engineers were at a show and they were like, “What the heck? You should definitely record these.” Those pals were Brian Joseph and Shane Leonard, so the three of us recorded them. This was all back in 2019, so it was also a while ago.
So, you’ve been sitting on those for a little while. What made it feel like the right time to put them out as a full album?
They were just weird enough that I was not quite sure what to do with them. Back in 2019, we were very much a DIY band. I was booking most of the tours. We were self-managed, putting out albums independently. So, it was just this one-woman shop. I honestly didn’t have time. I don’t want to release music unless I can do a good job and be proud of really putting my whole heart behind releasing it. It took a while, but I feel like, in the last year, it was like, “Oh, you should come out.” They’ve been waiting for a while, and now I have the bandwidth thanks to some folks helping me out behind the scenes. I’m also more confident as an artist. We’ve been a band for longer, and we’ve put out other music. So, I felt like, “Okay, if [fans] are into what we’re doing, they have an idea of this project’s personality and we can throw this strange project at them.”
I love how know each song is a love song, but you’re you’re covering lots of different types of love. It’s not just your standard, romantic love – there’s love for nature and plants and for mundane-seeming gestures like leaving food out for someone who’s coming home late. It’s a very expansive vision of love.
I know that in my personal life, sometimes those [mundane] moments are the most loving. Sometimes in love songs, on a broader scale, we get high drama and high stakes. But I love the little, ordinary moments that, when you put them in a song, feel really magical.
It’s a rewarding experience to sit and listen to the record start-to-finish. It feels very meditative, in a way. What was your time recording like? A few moments ago, you mentioned thinking about what makes a song a “song,” and what a song is allowed to be. How did that play out while you brought these songs to life?
In my memory, it was a pretty quick, moving process. I think we did the initial tracking in maybe four days and then we did some overdubs a handful of other days, maybe half a year later. And because the songs are so short, it was like, “Okay, how can we make these feel fully realized in such a short period of time and still take risks and have various arrangement choices that are engaging?”
It has to happen in such a condensed period. It was a great challenge: take your ideas but make them as compact and meaningful as possible because you only have a few seconds. Now that it’s out in the world, people are like, “I wish this song was just a normal length. It’s so sad when it’s over.” But I felt like we had to stick to the premise. Some of the songs could go way longer, sure, but it’s fun to keep it short and sweet.
What did you take away from that experience? It seems like it would be instructive to have to work with those restrictions and to learn how to cram so much meaning into a minute’s worth of music.
The biggest takeaway was that you can do it. You can have an emotionally resonant song in 45 seconds or one minute if you’re really determined. Going forward with recordings that came after it made me a better listener and a better editor of my own work, because when you have to be so cutthroat during the editing and arranging processes, you’ve flexed that muscle. I think it strengthens the writing and arrangements going forward because it was sort of a, “Do we absolutely need this or not?” question. That’s how I prefer to move through music recording: throw it all at the wall and then pare it back and have something you’re really proud of.
I’m surprised to hear that these songs were written so long ago, as I had noticed some musical and thematic connection points between Astrovan and Right On and assumed that Right On played an influential role. Do you feel a connection there, too?
I think you’re hearing it just right. But the truth is that Astrovan led to Right On. Astrovan has some folky, almost country music moments. But then there are also some rockers. Those are, to be honest, some of the first times in the studio where I was like, “Dang, rock and roll is fun to play.” It’s so fun to turn up the amp and use a distortion pedal and just have fun. It’s really cathartic, and those songs were only a minute. So then, when I picked up the guitar again later on to write songs for Right On, I think in the back of my mind I was like, “I want to do more of that fun, loud, more abrasive stuff.” And that definitely informed choices for Right On.
Speaking of Right On, that’s been such a big record for you. And now that we’ve hit 2025, it’s been out for the better part of a year. When you reflect on the year you had in 2024, what comes to mind?
One really cool thing that I didn’t anticipate was a level of confidence that me and my bandmates were able to sink into with the Right On album. We put our whole hearts into making it. It was so fun to record and it’s so fun to play live. As a result of performing it all year, we’ve just gotten better at performing. I think we all really stand behind what we do on stage and in a music ecosystem that’s so confusing and hard to know. But when you can get on stage with people you love and play music that you’re proud of and you’re excited to share with people, that is the best feeling ever.
I feel like that was what a lot of our year was about. We love playing this music. We’re stoked to share it with you. And we’re not getting too caught up in all of the other elements that swirl around with making music your livelihood. Not that those factors aren’t there, but ultimately, the year was about this record that we were proud of. So, that feels great.
You have some festival dates on the books for this year. Do you have any plans to tour, too?
We’re a band that definitely hits the road, historically, and that’s the plan for 2025, as well. We were all upper Midwest kids, so we also hibernate hard. But when the snow thaws, we’ll be out there, and I think it’ll be pretty consistent throughout the year. That’s where we’re at right now as a band and we’re soaking it up because it’s a good chapter to be in.
I meet Swedish performer and singer-songwriter Sarah Klang in the glorious maximalist backstage area at Nashville’s the Blue Room before her first-ever Music City show in mid-January. She’s cozy on the couch, a tin of pouched nicotine by her side, a hippo skull on the coffee table in front of us, and her brand new album, Beautiful Woman (out February 7) on our minds. The first thing I notice – besides her beautiful tattoos and the shimmering gemstone stud on one of her teeth – is her gaudy and gorgeous red-white-and-blue acrylic nails. Complete with rhinestones and glitter.
To Klang, the country aesthetic is the “coolest,” and in her part of the world she’s seen as something of a country queen. Her work across her discography varies greatly in genres and sonics, including folk, indie, pop, Americana, and so much more. But Beautiful Woman, which was produced by Eric D. Johnson (Fruit Bats, Bonny Light Horseman) doesn’t feel like Klang is just putting on rootsiness because it’s “cool” or “in” or trending. These are sonic spaces she knows well and strides through with ease.
Beautiful Woman boasts bold and brash moments that feel like Adele covering The SteelDrivers alongside tender story songs that could have almost been pulled from the catalogs of country queens this side of the Atlantic like Loretta Lynn and Dolly Parton. Danceable tracks, finger-picked ballads, and honest lyrics speak to impactful issues of motherhood, agency, feminism, embodiment – and so much more – but still feel light and joyful, leaning forward in the beat and finding hope in the melancholic.
Catching her debut Nashville performance at the Blue Room felt a bit momentous, though Klang seemed remarkably chill and relaxed, on and off stage. She and collaborator Theo Stocks (who also helps record and produce her projects) performed in duet, with lush reverbs and simple backing percussion tracks to a rapt audience. An audience who knew they were lucky to have Klang on this “side of the pond.”
Before the show, we dove into Beautiful Woman, speaking about the death of genre, choosing your own joy, always wanting more banjos, and so much more.
Do you see what you do as roots music? How do you place your own music within roots or folk or Americana? Your music has so many things – it’s got moments of grandeur, it’s got moments of subtlety, it’s got indie, it’s got pop, it’s got a little bit of everything. But I wonder how you identify it.
Sarah Klang: That’s sort of a really hard question. I always feel it’s a little bit like I don’t really know the genres. So, mostly when I put out my albums, afterwards people will review them and they will tell me what genre it is and I will be like, “Yeah, yeah! Mhmm, that’s what it is.” Because I don’t really think about it.
I mean, I listen to so much– random indie, folk, Americana, all those things that you mentioned. And I’m introduced to iconic classical things mainly through Theo [Stocks], my guitarist that I make albums with, and also Eric [D. Johnson]. Like a very normal thing in the studio would be that they would say, “Oh, this is very Kris Kristofferson-ish.” And I would be like, “Could you play it for me?” And then they play the song, and I’m like, “Okay!”
I don’t really have a special aim for where I’m going, because I don’t have any roots in anything. Really. I know what I like. I know the feeling [of what] I’m after. I guess the sentimental [and the] bittersweet, those always end up in some sort of Americana thing.
If it’s not the genre, or style, or the aesthetic that you’re going for – or that you’re following – it sounds to me like you’re following the songs themselves and the feeling you’re trying to evoke.
Yes. I mean, it’s just like an imprinted thing in my brain, “What sounds do I like?” It has always been like that, really. I don’t really play any instruments anymore. I used to play the guitar and the piano, but now I don’t. We’ve been here [in Nashville] for seven days and had sessions every day and Theo knows very well how to describe [the sounds]. He’s kind of like my interpreter. How do you say it? My interpreter? When it comes to melodies and shorts [takes], because someone at the session could play me a bit and I’ll be like “Hmmm?” And Theo will say, “It’s the last short. She doesn’t want that last short. Let’s go with that instead.” He understands.
I think I just have quite a small range of melodies that I like. I mean, my songs are kind of similar, how they are made. The aesthetic of country music has always felt like that’s the only way to go. That’s the only aesthetic that really looks cool, you know? When I started to dress up in country-ish things in Sweden, people were like, “Okay, well she makes country music.” That’s how far they would go. So in Sweden I’m often categorized and called the country queen of Sweden. I get a little bit nervous about that, because I know so little about country music and you know that everybody has such strong opinions about it.
What’s funny to me is even with how strong of opinions people have about country and what it is, it’s always in the eye of the beholder.
I’ve obviously been listening a lot – maybe not classic country, whatever that is – but I mean, I’ve been listening to Kurt Vile, Kevin Morby, Sharon Van Etten, you know, those very big country rock people for a long time. I think that is my biggest influence, really. Then we take that and Theo and Eric on this album, who are just very nerdy in music, they put their spin on it.
But for me, it’s not important to me. Where this album lands, in which genre – I couldn’t care less. But, I think that’s why I started having a western aesthetic. ‘Cause it’s the coolest part, I think. I was like, “Okay, I’m gonna start a solo project. Where do I want to be? What’s cool?”
That, probably. [Laughs]
You’re talking about collaborating with Theo and Eric and it sounds like having that trust and having that rapport is really important to getting the music where you wanted to get it. When I listen through and I hear the banjo moments and the really rootsy and Americana moments, trying to connect the dots, how much of that came from Eric producing?
I asked for that specifically! I mean, if it were up to me, I would say, “More banjo! Put banjo on everything!” ‘Cause that makes everything a jam.
But the boys are more tasteful when it comes to that. When [Eric] played, I think I asked him to try and play on like every song – and not because I wanted to be a “diddly doo” out there, but just because that’s my vibe. I mean, when someone plays on a banjo, there is nothing more tearjerking.
Of course, “Last Forever” jumped out at me for that quality. That was the track from Beautiful Woman that we premiered on BGS. I think it’s my favorite song on the record. But there are so many moments that feel like you’re a genre shapeshifter. And I think that that’s the time we’re in too, genre’s dead. Even while we get more and more and more genre names every year, it feels like genre’s dead.
For me, it’s probably a good thing that it is. That I’m not locked in a genre. I don’t think I’m ever gonna have to be like, “Okay guys, I’m breaking free from this [genre.]” I don’t have to do like a Miley Cyrus thing – “look at my new clothes!” – because I wear everything and that’s nice because I think I’m gonna keep on producing albums as long as I can, and I would like to not be stuck if I were to start feeling this [genre] is boring.
I mean, I’m a huge house fan. I love dance music. When I was a teenager, I mostly listened to weird party drinking music from the UK. I always wanted to make a club album. So, hopefully I could just like sneak over there. When the time’s right. [Laughs]
Another song that jumped out at me as feeling really rootsy is “Childhood.” Not only because of the aesthetic of the song, but the storytelling of it and the nostalgia in it. Something about it feels kind of theatrical to me, too, and I think country is so theatrical.
Yeah, it’s very dramatic. I think when I’m making a song, I feel like “more is more” and if you are going in a certain direction, just go all-in and don’t cringe. Because then it’s just going to end up in some halfway world.
For me, with “Childhood” I was like, “Oh, is this song too nice? Is it too sweet?” Like, no! It’s great. It’s a great song. You just have to go all the way with the feelings. Because then if you don’t, I don’t think you’re going to reach the point you wanted to reach.
Many of my melodies, when I write, I ask myself or Theo or Eric, “Is this too pop-y? Does it sound too much like yada yada yada? Is this a rip off?” And they’re, “Let’s go for it!” You just go straight into that vibe and feeling.
Our music goes all the way into the feeling without hesitating if it might be too much. If you are driving your car, you want to listen to Tom Petty. And he wasn’t like, “Oh, I’m gonna write a song that is making people feel free… but it can’t be too much!” [Laughs]
“I want a driving song, but for 35 miles an hour.”
No! [Laughs] Pedal to the metal.
The overarching concepts that the album is talking about, I think what some people, especially in the U.S., would think these are deep topics – feminism, womanhood, gender and gender roles. But I found it interesting that even with these subjects, the music still feels joyful, it feels like it’s looking forward, it feels like it leans forward – in the beat, literally and figuratively. But, it doesn’t feel like cotton candy, and it doesn’t feel like you’re minimizing anything. Can you talk a little bit about that?
I mean, that makes me so happy that you felt that way. I’ve done interviews about this album in Sweden, with women, and they’re like, “Sarah, you do know that you are a beautiful woman now, right? And I’m like, that’s not the fucking point! As if I were singing it, meaning that that was the point. Maybe I thought when I was younger that that was a goal, but it’s not now.
I just want to write whatever comes to mind, and since English is not my first language, I have to write it very straight and simple. Like, “This is what happened, period.” I don’t really have the energy or time to hide the message. That is not my thing. Some people are great with that, leaving clues. I just write words – it’s also like, I’m busy I need to write the lyrics now! [Laughs]
I always ask my friend when I’ve done an album, “What is the catchphrase for this album? What would you say now when you heard it?” So, for VIRGO she was like, “This is your sex album.” And Mercedes, “This is your pregnancy album, obviously.” But this one, she was like, “I think this is a celebration of girlhood, period.” And I was like, “Yep, that’s perfect.” I’ll just use that. Because I obviously just collect songs. Over a period of time, and then I feel, well now it’s done. And I don’t write an album after a theme.
One of the things I love about the album is that it ends on “I Have Everything.” I like that that’s the way that you’re putting a punctuation mark on the album. Right now, I’m really worn out by attention economies, consumption, consumerism, and like, “buying our happiness.” I was really struck by that song. I love having it at the end; it feels like you are not just talking to us, your listeners, but you’re also talking to yourself. So I wanted to ask you about the song and about the placement of it in the sequence.
I think I wrote it to myself. Like, “Listen! Stop being a complete asshole all the time!” It’s annoying, but I’ve learned – and it’s nice, but it’s hard to talk about it without it sounding so cringey and boring – but the only thing that makes you happy is to take walks outside, be with your family, eat right, and take care of yourself. And that is boring, but it’s the truth. I always felt that people who said, “I wake up every morning and tell myself five things that I’m grateful for–” and I’m like, “Okay… that’s weird.” [Laughs]
If you do that, you will probably feel better. If you are nice to people around you, you will probably feel better. If you’re nice to yourself. I mean, grown up people have been telling me [this] all my life. During my 20s, through periods where I was just unhinged and didn’t feel right. They were like, “Well, maybe if you took a little better care of yourself and didn’t party so much and spent time with your family, you would feel better.” And I was like, “Listen, it’s more than that.”
Yeah, like I am so deep. [Laughs] My traumas are so deep! You have no idea! I’m a fuck up. And then, turns out you’re not. That’s a nice thing about getting a little bit older, you just know, “I’m gonna be fine.” And it’s also my responsibility to make that happen.
Every time somebody had ever told me that “joy is a choice” and “happiness is a choice,” I didn’t realize at first that what they meant was joy or happiness that you construct for yourself isn’t fake.
No! And it doesn’t undermine your sad parts. Like, that is always going to be there. Don’t worry. I think so many of us are just melancholic people. I mean, people have had worse experiences than I’ve had and are so chill and so fine.
I think happiness is definitely something you can work on and give to yourself, and it’s not like a miracle.
Wherever you are on this wintry week, we hope our collection of roots music premieres warms you all the way up. We expect it will!
In this edition of our premiere roundup, don’t miss a brand new track from stupendous string trio, The Devil Makes Three, who debuted “Ghosts Are Weak” from their upcoming album on Wednesday on BGS. Plus, there’s straight-ahead bluegrass to be found, too, from Tyler Grant, who pays homage to a towering train bridge on “Goat Canyon Trestle.”
Singer-songwriter Bre Kennedy has reimagined “Before I Have a Daughter,” a song co-written with Lori McKenna about breaking generational cycles, healing, and motherhood. (A theme shared with another premiere this week.) And, Tobacco & Rose repurpose a love song infused with a Buddhist twist with their new track, “Tara.”
In the mood for some music videos? Catch Leslie Jordan’s new video for a Sarah McCracken co-write, “The Fight,” that also grapples with parenthood, discipline, and family. And, the sensational Max McNown brings us the video for the title track for his brand new album, Night Diving, which releases today.
Just in time to shepherd out the once-in-a-lifetime blizzards across the Deep South, Miss Tess showcases her music video for “Louisiana,” a centerpiece of her upcoming album, Cher Rêve. Then Sarah Quintana, who calls New Orleans home, brings us down the road to the Big Easy with an artful music video made with Kat Sotelo for the title track of her soon-to-be-released project, BABY DON’T.
It’s all right here on BGS and, you know the drill – You Gotta Hear This!
The Devil Makes Three, “Ghosts Are Weak”
Artist:The Devil Makes Three Hometown: Santa Cruz, California Song: “Ghosts Are Weak” Album:Spirits Release Date: January 22, 2025 (single); February 28, 2025 (album) Label: New West Records
In Their Words: “‘Ghosts Are Weak’ is about breaking free from destructive habits and patterns. It reflects on how leaving behind a substance or lifestyle often comes with losing certain friends along the way…” – Pete Bernhard
Artist:Tyler Grant Hometown: Boulder, Colorado Song: “Goat Canyon Trestle” Album:Flatpicker Release Date: January 24, 2025 (single); March 28, 2025 (album) Label: Grant Central Records
In Their Words: “The largest wooden trestle ever built still stands in the Mojave Desert of eastern San Diego County. I wrote this uptempo bluegrass song to tell the story of the trestle and the ‘Impossible Railroad,’ which was conceived by sugar and shipping magnate John D. Spreckels in 1906 and completed in 1919. History songs are tricky and I am very proud of this one. It will tickle the ears of any enthusiast of the classic railroad songs. I furnish some Doc Watson-style flatpicking and Michael Daves delivers on the hot tenor vocal part. The moral of the story is, if you take on the desert, it will always win.” – Tyler Grant
Track Credits: Tyler Grant – Guitar, lead vocal Andy Thorn – Banjo Adrian “Ace” Engfer – Bass Dylan McCarthy – Mandolin Andy Reiner – Violin Michael Daves – Harmony vocal
Leslie Jordan, “The Fight”
Artist:Leslie Jordan Hometown: Johnson City, Tennessee Song: “The Fight” Album:The Agonist Release Date: April 25, 2025
In Their Words: “‘The Fight’ was written with Sandra McCracken on her back porch in September of 2023. When I read the piece that my grandfather wrote with the same title, I knew I had to save it for my co-write with Sandra. I have long admired Sandra’s ability to tell a story in her songs with honesty and raw vulnerability. I knew she could help me capture the true intention of this piece. It is heartbreaking. Gut-wrenching. A mother’s internal dialogue after she loses control and hits her son. We sat for a while and chatted through what we thought was really happening in the story, how it made us feel, and then I started playing the chord progression you hear. The story my grandfather wrote begins with these two lines:
‘The rebellion was over, and she had sent him to wash-up. There comes a time when children must be made to realize limitations and authority.’
“Sandra immediately started scribbling in her notebook and turned it around to show me.
‘The rebellion was over She sent him to wash his hands She tried to reason with him But he could not understand There comes a time when you find the limit’
“I started singing the words along to the chords and it felt like we had caught lightning in a bottle. I was also very excited to have my friend Brittney Spencer lend her incredible vocals on this song! When she heard it, she immediately had an idea that would lift the chorus. She really brought the song to another level.” – Leslie Jordan
Track Credits: Leslie Jordan – Acoustic guitar, vocals Brittney Spencer – BGVs Kenneth Pattengale – Guitar Harrison Whitford – Resonator guitar Daniel Rhine – Upright bass Joachim Cooder – Drums, percussion Evan Vidar – Pump organ
Video Credit: By Jake Dahm. Edited by Leslie Jordan.
Bre Kennedy, “Before I Have A Daughter” (featuring Lori McKenna)
Artist:Bre Kennedy Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee Song: “Before I Have a Daughter” featuring Lori McKenna Release Date: January 24, 2025 Label: Nettwerk Music Group
In Their Words: “I am so excited to share this version of my song ‘Before I Have a Daughter’ with the one and only Lori McKenna. I wrote this song with Lori a few years back after small talk that led to a conversation about me not knowing my mother, who struggled with addiction as I grew up, and wanting to get to know her and heal with her before I have a daughter. Writing this song was the beginning of a healing journey with not only my mother, but with myself. [It’s] how I have learned to have grace and appreciation for my journey, as well as hers. This song continues to grow with me in real time and I am so honored I get to share this version with Lori with you all from where I am on my journey now.” – Bre Kennedy
Max McNown, “Night Diving”
Artist:Max McNown Hometown: Bend, Oregon Song: “Night Diving” Album:Night Diving Release Date: January 24, 2025 Label: Fugitive Recordings x The Orchard
In Their Words: “We stepped into the writing room and Erin [McCarley] asked, ‘What’s something in your life that you keep fighting and can’t seem to overcome?’ ‘Night Diving’ became the answer to that question – it’s a song that addresses addiction and I think it’ll resonate with people on a lot of different levels. The ‘Night Diving’ song and video contain the deepest waters of symbolism I’ve created to date.” – Max McNown
Track Credits: Jedd Hughes – Electric guitar Todd Lombardo – Acoustic guitar, mandolin, additional electric guitar Jamie Kenney – Bass, acoustic guitars, additional electric guitars, drum programming Aaron Sterling –Drums Max McNown – Lead vocals, background vocals
Miss Tess, “Louisiana”
Artist:Miss Tess Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee Song: “Louisiana” Album:Cher Rêve Release Date: January 24, 2025 (single); February 7, 2025 (album)
In Their Words: “‘Louisiana’ was the first song inspiration for my new album Cher Rêve, coming out February 7. It was deep in the pandemic and I had reached a point where I was really missing traveling, friends, live music, and dancing. I became fixated on my memories of basking in the Cajun culture of South Louisiana (Lafayette & Eunice, mainly during the Blackpot Festival and music camp), and started to write a song about it.
“My excellent co-writer friend and fellow Blackpot visitor, Maya de Vitry, helped me work on it for about six hours one day while she was house-sitting. Since it was a challenging time to hang out with people in person, we finished it over the next month via email. It is one of my favorite songs on the album and really sums up my feelings and nostalgia for being down there, playing and enjoying music beneath the tall Louisiana pines. I am thankful this recording includes the talents of so many amazing Lafayette-area musicians, including Joel Savoy (fiddle + studio engineer), Trey Boudreaux (bass), and our dear friend Chris Stafford (Wurlitzer), who passed away tragically this past May.” – Miss Tess
Track Credits: Thomas Bryan Eaton – Electric guitar, vocals Joel Savoy – Fiddle Miss Tess – Vocals, guitar Kelli Jones – Vocals Chris Stafford – Wurlitzer Trey Boudreaux – Bass Matt Meyer – Drums
Sarah Quintana, “baby, don’t”
Artist:Sarah Quintana Hometown: New Orleans, Louisiana Song: “baby, don’t” Album:BABY DON’T Release Date: January 24, 2025 (single); March 28, 2025 (album)
In Their Words: “Kat Sotelo is the amazing performance artist and videographer behind this video. She designed and executed the concept, built the set, and asked the band to wear blue jeans. We wanted the first single to feel like something off The Ed Sullivan Show in the ’60s with a live performance lip-sync and vintage transitions. Silly moments of stop-motion animation flaunt Adrienne Battistella’s stunning band photos.
“I love Kat Sotelo’s work. She is a longtime friend and collaborator and my muse. She is a lovely human, creative powerhouse and inspiration to us all! She and I have been working together since my first project, Mama Mississippi, in 2012. Thanks for this adorable video, Kat!” – Sarah Quintana
Track Credits: Cello: Chris Beroes-Haigis – Cello Drums: Rose Cangelosi – Drums Saxophone: Rex Gregory – Saxophone Sousaphone: Jason Jurzak – Sousaphone Recorded by Justin Tockett at Dockside Studios
Video Credit: Video and set design by Kat Sotelo, photography by Adrienne Battistella.
Tobacco & Rose, “Tara”
Artist:Tobacco & Rose Hometown: Victoria, British Columbia, Canada Song: “Tara” Release Date: January 31, 2025 (single)
In Their Words: “‘Tara’ is a repurposed love song. The initial melody and lyrics were inspired by a crush that subsided as quickly as it appeared, but I was inspired to revive the song after following along to some guided Tara meditations. The Buddhist deity, Tara, is known for her compassion, but also for her encouragement to action. So I dedicate it to her, and, in fact, the writing of this song spurred into action the completion of my record, as it was the last song I wrote for it, and a standout track at that. I love this song, in part for the unusual wide guitar voicings that I got from my viola studies as a teenager, and for the melody that soars into head voice at the end of the chorus. And lyrically, I treat this song as a Buddhist-themed reminder for myself to stay awake and aware, and to treat all challenges, afflictions, and aversions as opportunities to get better at human being.” – Richard Moody
Track Credits: Richard Moody – Guitar, vocals, strings, keyboards Joey Smith – Bass
Photo Credit: Max McNown by Nate Griffin; Miss Tess by Jo Vidrine.
In 2024, Vermont’s Lutalo released their debut album, The Academy. In this episode of Basic Folk, they share the profound influence of their father, whose deep love for artistry and creativity laid the foundation for Lutalo’s musical path. We dive into the broad variety of their influences, from underground hip-hop to African drumming classes, each shaping their unique sound and approach to music. Lutalo’s candid reflections on their experiences in a private prep school reveal the complexities of navigating expectations and identity as a scholarship student, offering insights into the pressures and opportunities that come with such an environment. We also get a glimpse into their life in Vermont, where they find peace and grounding in a tiny house on a mountain, learning carpentry, and building a future studio.
Lutalo’s music speaks for itself. It feels like there’s a new generation of folk artists coming out, with creators like Lutalo who are dedicated to crafting new a type of folk – even if their music is genre-agnostic. Lutalo is making really cool songs, they’re making waves, and could be compared to so many legendary artists and bands. You can’t quite put your finger on what their sound is, but they are a heavy-hitting songwriter and we think they’re going to be huge.
Artist:Lily Talmers Hometown: Birmingham, Michigan and Brooklyn, New York Album:It Is Cyclical, Missing You Personal nicknames: To most people I’m just Lily or LT. Though… I’ve long been just a hair away from changing my moniker from my real name to “Scary Magdalene.”
Which artist has influenced you the most – and how?
Judee Sill has been so huge for me – there is such musical intricacy to her work and to the metaphors she works with in writing. She just goes beyond the script of singer-songwriter in every way. She is really playing! With texture and tone and size and scope on every level – lyricism, meaning, arrangement, melody, harmony. She was just so devoted to every facet of the craft, and her songs thematically are themselves devotional.
As far as contemporaries go, though, Madison Cunningham has also totally changed my hopes and dreams. Her ways of being and writing have granted me permissions and reminders as simple as, “Women can be forces on the guitar!” and as wide as, “You can trust your audience to hold depth and complexity!” Her devotion to craft, like Judee’s, is the underlying thing that moves me.
What other art forms – literature, film, dance, painting, etc. – inform your music?
Does teaching count as an art form? I have taught or studied literature formally for the last 10 years off and on. I could rattle off a bunch of titles or something, but to be honest a huge part of my music and craft has to do with performing. I’ve learned so much about the type of performer and space holder I want to be by trying and failing at teaching and witnessing some really brilliant colleagues. It’s influenced everything – my body language, my attention, my ability to embody and to really mean what I’m saying or singing.
I taught literature to college students for four years at an alternative/outdoor education program called the New England Literature Program. I’ve been hugely impacted by the many ways one can go about instructing someone else to undergo a creative act, be it writing or interpreting writing. I’m always floored by what can be done by a group of people just paying attention to a work of art or piece of writing. And that practice of noticing and paying attention is like 80% of how I’ve gotten any good at writing songs or playing music.
How often do you hide behind a character in a song or use “you” when it’s actually “me”?
In a word, “often”! I think we’re only really capable of seeing in others the things that we most intimately witness in ourselves. So, if a song is about betrayal, it’s writing both of the betrayer and the betrayed, as if they’re separate people. But, usually, I’m reporting with a real understanding of both sides because I am both, the betrayer and the betrayed, at once! And, if I don’t realize at the time of writing the song that I am both, usually my life reveals it to me somewhere down the line. I hear the accusations and questions and outcries of the songs differently with time. People in my life have a deep impact on me, but a lot of my best songs emerge from the many binaries and paradoxes of my internal world and less often from literal features of my life.
Does pineapple really belong on pizza?
Absolutely. I feel like people who can’t accept this are still crying themselves a river over Dylan going electric. Things that seem like they shouldn’t work often do work! Get with it!! Having a pineapple-goes-on-pizza attitude bodes well with making music too – you should always say yes to inspired ideas that sound weird or impossible. And if it works, it just does. There doesn’t need to be theoretical sense-making of it all.
What is a genre, album, artist, musician, or song that you adore that would surprise people?
HA! I love this question. May the world know that I love Celine Dion. Particularly her French records – D’eux or On Ne Change Pas. When I’m sad I like to watch this video of her singing a Christmas song on TV when she was a teenager and being surprised by her family. I was shown her music in high school French class and have always loved her drama and the way she really dignifies the figure of “singer.”
When one really digs below the surface of Mon Rovîa, there’s this intricate kaleidoscope of self, this winding path where the road to the here and now for the singer-songwriter has truly been one of restless resilience, dogged passion, and spiritual curiosity.
The rising artist has already lived this whirlwind existence of trials and tribulations, but also one of triumph and transcendence. Born in the West African country of Liberia, Mon Rovîa (taking his stage name from Liberia’s capital city) was adopted by Christian missionaries and taken from his homeland in the midst of an extremely violent and daunting civil war,
From there, Mon Rovîa bounced around the United States in a highly religious household, one where he wasn’t exposed to modern culture or the endless depths of music, either new or old. But, nonetheless, he fostered many existential questions about his unfolding life, with one main query in the forefront: Who am I?
The intricate nature of Mon Rovîa became heavy and tumultuous within his heart and soul, these deep layers of internal conflict. Being an immigrant in America. Being a Black man raised in a white family. Being adopted with no sense of his biological parents. And being filled with survivor’s guilt about leaving Liberia.
Yet, it was writing in his journals that launched the long process of healing and understanding within Mon Rovîa. Those words, thoughts and emotions soon took shape as songs, all while he began to learn to play the ukulele, guitar and other instruments. Add into that, his continued exploration of recorded music itself.
What has resulted is this unique tone, a vibrant crossroads of indie-folk, Americana, and shoegaze pop stylings, with many viewing Mon Rovîa as a talented rising voice in the Afro-Appalachian folk scene.
Fast-forward to 2025, where Mon Rovîa has become a very popular star on TikTok, yet his soothing sounds and melodies echo far across the massive social media platform. Several studio EPs have been released to wide acclaim, with the latest, Act 4: Atonement, putting a period on this chapter of his art – his eyes now aimed at the unknown horizon of his intent, head held high and optimistic.
When you’re looking out the window these days – in terms of your career, where the music’s going, and also where you’re going – what are you seeing?
Mon Rovîa: From even last year, I think things have accelerated a lot faster than I would’ve hoped in music, to be honest. It still seems really fresh though. It’s a lot of taking in the new fans and a lot of the joy that’s come with the acceptance of the music on a broader scale. At times, I wonder if I was really prepared for all of it, because a lot of these songs and a lot of the roadmap was written from a place of deep sadness and things that I was going through at the time. It’s crazy when you get to the place of living the thing you hoped for and realize that, “Oh man, there’s longevity that needs to be tied along with it now, since it’s becoming something that people are really desiring.” But, I’m very thankful. I try to be truly in tune with my energy and spirit. The world is super heavy and I tend to feel it a lot.
As things get crazier for you, expectations may shift and things change. How do you keep that piece of you that’s honest and real intact in your music?
A lot of it is, for me at least, having perspective. I know that’s easier said than done. But, being able to understand that you’re doing what you love and to be honest with whatever it is you’re presenting. Write what you know, write what you feel.
Your popularity soared through TikTok and now you’re playing more live shows. Has that been an interesting transition in being face to face with your fans that normally see you from behind a screen?
Absolutely. It’s totally different. I’m a pretty quiet, shy person. So now, transitioning to moving from the screen and having that barrier, that river that can divide, all the little things that come into play when you’re face to face? It was a little bit scary at first, especially with the first couple tours we did. With being in front of a crowd, the most important piece I think that I’ve learned now is the stories that I’m telling are the tales of my journey with each song. As I play music, that’s helped me become a lot more confident onstage, because I know what I’m speaking about and I know what the songs are about. It’s not this kind of idleness and just good music to listen to. I try to take the listener a little bit deeper, and that’s fun for me to do that. It creates a lot more fun. I’m just not someone that likes to be in front of a lot of people or be the center of attention, to be honest. I prefer writing things in silence, being in my room and contemplating.
With all of this going on, you’re also on this journey of finding yourself and figuring out who you are, where you came from, and where you’re going.
I think every adopted kid eventually hits the point where they want to know so many different things about their life, their story, what their background was. And that’s what was happening to me around the time of [my 2021 album] Dark Continent. And that’s even before we were taking this route of Afro-Appalachia. But, it led me to dive deeper into music and I just happened to be [living in Chattanooga, Tennessee]. Being in this area helped me to dive deeper into where all this music kind of came from and the history [behind folk, bluegrass, and Americana]. So here I am, just a Liberian refugee, but somehow in the perfect hands of history learning from where I was, not necessarily anything else. It is a very full circle moment.
That’s got to be a lot to wrestle with as you get older and you become your own person. I mean, there’s a lot of layers there.
So many layers. But don’t forget, there’s that layer of being the Black kid in a white missionary Christian family. And then the experience of growing up Black in that private school kind of world, having no tie to the African American experience. Being exiled as well from that group, because I didn’t have the same upbringing. I was always looked at as being a white Black person, a Black person that spoke white, because I spoke pretty properly. Kids that have my experience are very lonely, you know? There’s not really a place you fit, because you don’t fit with the white kids because you’re Black in their eyes, clearly. And then the African Americans don’t accept you because you don’t know their world either.
It was a very tough upbringing. I was very quiet and I watched a lot. I learned how to be what I am in social settings, how to relate to [others] and keep things to myself a lot, just try to fit in as best as possible. It was tough. It was lonely. Music didn’t really come to me as Mon Rovîa until 2018, and that’s when I really started to take music a little bit more seriously. [Growing up], it was more of an outlet. It was just a fun thing I did with my brothers. I didn’t think of a career or me being good at it, because nobody said I was good at music or writing music. My friends did like my writing. They thought I was very clever, but I didn’t consider it for myself at that time. I just did it.
With this period of your life and career, it seems Act 4: Atonement seems like the end of the beginning of this chapter of your music and your journey.
Yeah. That’s what Atonement is. It’s the end of the beginning. Everyone is a hero in this story of life. So, everyone has their hero’s journey, whatever that is to them. Some don’t make it to becoming the hero, which is a tragic thing. And some do, but everyone has that journey in their life. For me, this atonement ending is the start of what I am now. I think it gets me to this place where I’ve gone through a lot of difficult things. Hopefully now, in my next chapters of Mon Rovîa, whatever that is, I can atone to the people – people that are hurting and going through different things. The point is, I can hopefully now be some kind of light to these people, where I can tell them things I’ve learned along the way. And hopefully it helps them through their things and through their time. That’s the important piece of what atonement is – the knowledge then turns hopefully to wisdom.
Have you been back to Liberia at all?
The last time I was there I was 10 or so. But, I’m supposed to go back next year to see my sister and brother. They still live there.
Have you tracked down your parents?
My mother passed away during the war and my father also did. I keep in contact with my sister, and that’s only recently. Growing up, these people were not in my thoughts. I tried to forget a lot of these things and just assimilate to American culture. It wasn’t until I was older that that guilt set in where I realized, “Man, I hadn’t even thought about anybody else in my country or the gift that it is to be chosen,” because it could have been my sister or brother that was chosen to come to America. I was just picked out of the group of them like, “Hey, he should go with this missionary family.” So, a lot of those things didn’t even come to my mind until I was older, to really see how much time I wasted absolutely doing nothing for anyone else but myself in this place. At that time, I was going through a lot of different vices and dealing with a lot of different bad things. I was constantly drinking and deep into my depression and lack of understanding of what my purpose was at all.
Or who you are.
I didn’t know who I was. I didn’t really know my past and history. I had glimpses of it from just some things my adopted parents had told me. But, I hadn’t dove into it until I contacted my sister and heard the real thing, the truth of it all. The goal is to go back [to Liberia] and try to get some colors from my native country and, and just, you know, spend some time with people that I haven’t seen in a long time and learn. The last time I went was really difficult. When I was there, it was in the middle of the second civil war and we ended up staying longer than expected because the child soldiers had taken over the capital city of Monrovia. It was a really scary time and that was the last memory of Liberia during the conflict. That’s a whole other cathartic piece of my journey, to [once again] step foot on that soil. I think once I step foot on that soil, I’ll probably weep. A lot of things have been bottled up and lodged into different areas of my body, [and will be] released onto the continent. But, not until I go there. My story won’t end until I go back. That’s a major piece.
You have such an interesting perspective, because I think a lot of times people in this country take things for granted, where they’ve either never traveled out of this country or they’re not from other countries. I would surmise that you probably see things that are beautiful in this country that a lot of us don’t acknowledge.
Yeah. There’s so much beauty in this country. Through all of the tirades against each other, there is still so much goodness. I mean, being able to walk out your door and be able to get anything you want at a store that’s there and not be–
Afraid to go for that walk.
Not afraid to go, yeah. Not afraid to go on that walk knowing I might not come home today, and there’s many countries like that currently. People don’t even have that freedom to go out their door and just see something and or go walk in the woods.
Or make an album.
Or make an album. It’s crazy to me that we forget so easily the good things when times are tough. And when times are tough, you think that the good won’t come back again. Man’s memory is so short and it’s really the plague.
That’s really what kills us all is that our memory is terrible. In times of famine, you never think good will come again. So, you lose hope. But, everything’s cyclical as well. Good comes back and hard times come again. And then you weathered the bad time before, but you forget that you weathered it, so you suffer. That’s us. That’s humanity.
Joy Clark and Ani DiFranco connected over something unexpected: a Christmas song. Slated to perform at the same benefit show in 2022, the two singer-songwriter-guitarists were grouped to take the stage together and needed a holiday tune, ideally an original one. Clark’s “Gumbo Christmas” made it to DiFranco before the show, and the legendary artist and founder of Righteous Babe Records heard a hit. Once the pair synced up, they felt an instant musical kinship, and it wouldn’t be long before DiFranco signed Clark to her label.
Last October, Clark released her critically acclaimed debut album, Tell It to the Wind. Informed by her experience as a side player and imbued with a deep reverence for her craft as a solo artist, the record was one of 2024’s finest releases, announcing Clark as an artist with a keen sense of who she is and what she wants to create. The album sonically pulls from Clark’s roots as a Louisiana native and thematically from her experiences as a Black and queer woman making her way through the world. Highlights include “Lesson,” a bluesy, groovy reminder to keep your head up in the face of struggle, and the record’s vulnerable closing title track.
Before the holiday break, BGS caught up with DiFranco and Clark over Zoom to chat about Clark’s signing to Righteous Babe, her album Tell It to the Wind, and what she and DiFranco admire most in one another – as they prepare to hit the road together on tour next month.
Let’s start by having you share how you met and what drew you to one another.
Joy Clark: Well, it started with a Christmas song. It was 2022, and we were both on a Christmas show. There was a big lineup, with Big Freedia, John Goodman, and a lot of other people. So, they tried to group the performers together and I got grouped with Ani and Dayna Kurtz, and I happen to have a Christmas song called “Gumbo Christmas.” My agent contacted me and said, “Hey, can you make a recording of your song and send it to Ani?” He sent it to Ani and I heard back that it was a hit. She liked the song. So, they grouped us together and we performed it.
Ani DiFranco: It’s a total hit, this song. I mean, I don’t understand why people are not holding hands all over America singing this song right now.
JC: I wrote about my grandmother making gumbo every Christmas, it got to Ani, and I think that’s how I got on the radar.
AD: From my perspective, I’m asked to do a benefit and it’s just tons of New Orleans usual suspects involved, like she said. Then, I found out a little later everybody had to play Christmas songs for this thing. I was thinking I’d just show up and play a song or two of my own. I’m like, “Oh, man, Christmas. What the hell?” So, I’m combing through Christmas songs, and I’m like, “I don’t know.” And then I thought, “Oh, I’ll just write one. I’ll write a Christmas song.” I pounded my head against that wall for a few days and discovered that it’s harder than you think to write a Christmas song that anybody ever wants to hear.
Finally, somebody rescued me by saying, “Well, you know, Joy’s got a Christmas song. Maybe you could sing with Joy Clark.” And in comes this little video of Joy singing. I was like, “Oh, my God, that’s the best. That’s the best.” Now I know how hard it is to write a Christmas song, so my respect for this woman is already right up here for making this sweet, soulful Christmas song. And then [Joy] came and recorded it.
You don’t hear many artists getting signed off a Christmas song or even having that be their entry point to meeting their eventual label. That’s a great story.
AD: It was also just hooking up, you know, in person, doing a little rehearsal at Joy’s house, and then going and doing the gig. We got to hang out. It’s not just like I heard the song somewhere. I got to see firsthand that Joy can play and sing her ass off and was an artist in the world doing her thing. I always say that we’re not really a label with tons of resources that can create something out of nothing, or market somebody into existence or something. But what we can do is support working artists and try to get behind them and help facilitate what they’re already doing.
JC: I think that’s the cool part, because I’ve been a working musician for a long time. And not just being Joy Clark, just writing my songs and performing – I played in a lot of different bands, playing guitar, singing harmony. … I’ve really just been working, been doing the thing. I played as a side person for a long time, which is how you learn. That’s how you learn to just be a musician. I feel like that’s been a gift for me. So, now to be able to just to step out up front and write and put out music, I feel pretty lucky. But it also feels really right.
It sounds like you came into the picture with a fully realized sense of who you are and the kind of music you make and what you want to do. And it sounds like the label is a great home for artists like that, who already have strong senses of self and don’t necessarily need, like you mentioned, Ani, a lot of development and marketing.
AD: Certainly at Righteous Babe, you’re not going to have some pencil pusher telling you what you should do with your songs. The thing about an artist-run label is the artist has to follow their heart. That much is clear at Righteous Babe.
Joy, I’m going back to what you were saying a moment ago about being a side player and the opportunities that provides – or sometimes forces – for you to adapt and learn and be able to do things on the fly. How do you feel that those experiences have shaped your solo work?
JC: There’s pressure in it, but then there’s not really pressure, too, because it’s not about me. I think it allows me to just be and not think about, “What do I look like?” or “How do I feel about this certain thing?” It’s giving somebody else space to do their thing. And that gave me a lot of confidence, actually. It gave me a lot of freedom. … I think that helped me step into my work, because when you do need people, when you do need support, you get both sides of it. I think it’s made me more compassionate. I hope I’m not an ass. I don’t think I’m an asshole. [Laughs] I understand what it is to support somebody’s work.
AD: I can really relate, too. I remember the first time I worked on somebody else’s record that wasn’t my shit, and I was like, “Whoa. This is all the fun of making music without the crushing emotional baggage of exposing your guts and putting yourself up for judgment.” So, I completely hear what you’re saying about how it’s a different experience to make music when you’re not on the hot seat, when it’s not you being judged. I love working on other people’s music for exactly that reason. It’s so freeing emotionally. … And now we’re about to go out to make some live music together. That will be fun times.
I wanted to ask about that. As you get ready to hit the road together, is there anything you can share about your plans, or what you’re looking forward to, in particular, about getting to share a bill with one another?
AD: Another thing that is always in the back of my mind with Righteous Babe, if we’re considering releasing a record, is whether this is an artist we could have the means to help. Somebody came to us with a very different genre of music recently and it was a super cool record, but I just thought, “I don’t know how to get to the right audience and get this project where it needs to go.” But from the minute I met Joy and saw her play and interact with an audience, I thought to myself, “My audience will love this person.” So, that’s always in the back of my mind, like, if we put out a record on Righteous Babe, could we do shows together? That’s a really easy way for me to assemble a bunch of people and then point, “Look at her. Check this out.” I just know that they’ll eat you up, Joy. And I haven’t told you yet, but I was hoping to ask you if we could play a song or two together.
JC: Of course! Just let me know what you want. I’ve already been listening. You know it.
AD: I’ll text them to you.
JC: One thing I’m looking forward to is being on a bus. My dates have been fly, pick up a car, then drive, you know? And it’s not like I have a right hand. It’s me and my guitar, driving. When I’m driving, I can’t do anything.
AD: And it’s exhausting. Most of your energy is zapped when you get to the gig.
JC: Yeah, it’s like, “Can I just sit in the green room? Can I just recover from that?” I’m looking forward to having that tour experience of being on a bus and chatting it up and maybe even writing. We’ll see if I can actually write on the road.
AD: Yeah, you need a certain amount of space just to do that, like your own dressing room and your own hotel room. It’s so hard when you’re just out there driving around, doing all the things. Funnily enough, Joy and I were just at another benefit the other night, both playing a tribute to Irma Thomas, singing Irma Thomas songs and benefiting the New Orleans Musicians’ Clinic. We were joking and I was like, “You got to be careful because once you get on that bus, it’s so hard to get off.”
JC: I can feel that coming. I’m looking forward, too, because I’ve really only seen Ani perform once, at French Quarter Fest in 2023. Now, I get to check out the show night after night.
Ani, you mentioned a moment ago that feeling of knowing that your audience will love Joy’s music. I see a lot of connection points in what both of you do. There’s a lot of vulnerability there, for one – I think you described it as “exposing your guts” earlier, Ani, and that feels true for both of you, at least from my perspective as a listener. What points of connection do you see in one another’s music?
JC: I think Ani is a badass guitarist. I respect that, because it takes a lot to be able to play with the band and then to just be a person on stage with a guitar. I think I really connect with that fingerstyle picking. I prefer fingerstyle because it gives you a lot of different textures and it gives you different choices. Instead of strum – a strum is great, it’s just when you can pick, there are these other things happening. These little flavors and lines that I connect with, because that’s the type of player I am. I don’t have the picks on my fingers, it’s just my fingers. But I think that’s how I connect [to the instrument].
AD: Ditto for me. Keep those naked fingers, because it sounds so much better. I put on these plastic nails, but that’s just because I get so violent with my guitar and I bloody myself if I don’t have them. But the sound is so, so great with the real finger and the real nail. I’m really more of a rhythm player, and I just sort of play by ear, but you can play solos. You know what key we’re in and what the notes are supposed to go with that – all the things that I don’t actually freaking know. [Laughs]
I’m just super impressed with anybody who can legitimately play guitar like you do. There’s knowing how to play or knowing how to sing or this or that, and then there’s knowing how to stand there alone on stage and hold an audience. And Joy can do that, too.
I’m glad y’all brought up each other’s guitar playing, because there’s clearly so much passion and care there for both of you. And I don’t think we ask musicians about their instruments enough. People ask a lot of questions about songwriting and lyrics but not so much about, say, devising chord progressions. How does incorporating guitar into your songs work for each of you?
JC: It’s always different. When I write, there is no one way that it comes. But there is a feeling. There are colors that appear. Sometimes, there are sounds that come out. But one thing that I can say, for me, is that [writing] happens simultaneously with messing around on a guitar. I often sing as I play. I’m not usually writing. I do write, but the core of it is a feeling. If it’s something sentimental, then sentimental lines appear. Sometimes it happens if I’m driving, then I pick up my phone and I hum, and then when I pick up the guitar, I’m flowing. There’s an improvisation that happens and it’s a little bit mysterious. I don’t really understand it. It’s just mystery. But I love chords and I love to pick out cool shit. Then, I just put words to the thing that I’m picking.
AD: I can basically relate to everything you’re saying. Same for me. It’s different all the time. There’s no, like, set process, of course, and each song happens in a different way. But generally, it’s just being able to hang out with your instrument and just be with your guitar, hang out, and process your feelings with it. I miss that myself in life these days. I’m older and at a different point in my road than Joy. And I, many moments, wish I could put myself back where you are, Joy, just embarking on something and being really focused and having that guitar by your side all the time. Now, my kids are in the way most of the time, you know? [Laughs] … But that’s really what it is, having a relationship with the guitar that deepens and deepens. The understanding between you and this instrument deepens, and the guitar starts finishing your sentences.
JC: You can find some really pretty jewels in something that didn’t really feel good [while] writing it. But I want something to grow on me. Maybe it doesn’t fit so perfectly, but in time, “Oh, yeah, that does make sense.”
AD: I feel like that’s what you want for other people, too. It’s not necessarily to always be making songs that are instantly like, “Oh, Skittles! It’s sweet and fruity.” But, something that, maybe, on repeated listens, it takes its time to get under somebody’s skin. Then it really lives there. … What I’ve learned over many years and many albums and hundreds of songs is that, even after you get back to your disillusionment or you sour on something that’s not new anymore, you just have to have faith that somebody out there in the world is still going to have that first experience that you had with it. Somebody is going to feel that way about it, even if it’s not you anymore.
That feels like a lovely place to wrap. Before we sign off, do you have any parting words for one another?
JC: I’m really freaking grateful. I’ve been doing my work and I feel pretty lucky that people want to hear what I have to say. And I feel really lucky to have an album out on Righteous Babe, on your label, Ani. I feel like it’s right. I just turned 40 a couple months ago, and I think it’s pretty fantastic to feel like I’ve just started.
AD: Well, I would say – in a way that’s not weird, in a way that [reflects] that we’re on the same level – that I’m proud of you. It makes me so happy to see you stepping into yourself and your music and stepping out there in the world. You’ve paid a lot of dues and you completely deserve this moment. I can’t wait to see what’s next.
Photo Credit: Joy Clark by Steve Rapport; Ani DiFranco by Shervin Lainez.
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