Sometimes it strikes me just how much power can emanate from a creative mind. Speaking with Denitia was one of those times. When the indie music artist comes across an unfamiliar musical concept, she goes “sponge mode” until she understands it. Then she seamlessly integrates it into her artistic vocabulary. This relentless curiosity and sense of play can be heard across Denitia’s catalog, from her early work as half of the New York indie R&B duo denitia and sene to her breakthrough 2022 country album, Highways. Her fluency across multiple genres gives her a refreshing approach to record-making, sound, and fashion alike (from her New York streetwear days to thrifting vintage clothes in Nashville).
Since moving to Nashville and pivoting from R&B to indie country, Denitia has been grabbing audiences’ attention with her gorgeous voice and catchy-as-hell, cool girl indie songwriting. Denitia was selected for the CMT Next Women of Country Class of 2024, and her forthcoming album, Sunset Drive (out September 6), delivers on the hype. Denitia and her longtime songwriting partner, Brad Allen Williams, have painted classic country landscapes against which tales of escape from the ordinary are told with longing and warmth. The new record is something of a full-circle moment for the Texas-born artist and a showcase for her prodigious talents as a vocalist.
Basic Folk co-host Lizzie No leads the conversation in our interview with Denitia, where she offers music industry insights, vocal warm-up techniques, and music marketing strategies.
Since 2013, The National Parks have embodied their name in a way few other bands can. In fact, they’ve made a mission of translating the breathtaking majesty of the outdoors into awe-inspiring roots pop – music that ends up like oxygen for the soul, especially if you happen to be lost in a concrete jungle.
A Provo, Utah-based quartet featuring Brady Parks, Sydney Macfarlane, Cam Brannelly, and Megan Parks, the band have explored all over the stylistic trail map in the past, but their new LP Wild Spirit (out August 23) marks a return to base camp. Back to resonate wood-and-string soundscapes, soaring harmonies, and rivers of rushing energy. These days, their brand of upbeat jangle pop is brighter, more encouraging, and more connected to the rhythm of nature than ever.
Speaking with BGS about Wild Spirit’s creation, primary songwriter and guitarist/frontman Brady explains where the mix of uplifting vibes and down-to-earth instruments comes from – and why the group’s new tunes feel like sunrise after a long night.
You’re 10+ years into the band at this point. How’s everybody feeling creatively these days?
Brady Parks: We’re feeling really good. I feel like this new album was kind of just a beautiful process, start to finish. It was, in a way stepping back to our roots – a little more folky, there’s some country elements, some bluegrass, and so it really just feels like rediscovering us. It was just a really fun project to do.
Once you get that far down the road, at some point you have to loop back around and remember what you were doing in the first place, right?
Totally. I mean, we’ve definitely dipped our feet into going more pop at times, and including those elements, so it was fun to bring everything we’ve done over the course of our career back to our roots.
Tell me a little bit about those roots. You seem to capture these natural themes and sounds within the music – the sway of trees in the wind, the rush of a river. Has that always been with you?
Totally. I feel like nature has always been a huge part of my songwriting. I grew up in Colorado and living in the mountains, I just loved it. I was outside all the time. And now living Utah for the last 13 or so years, just being surrounded by so much natural beauty, I tend to find a lot of parallels between love and life and nature, and how it all comes together.
I think it’s always been really inspiring to me musically – and also not musically, just in general. So I think it’s always naturally played a role in our music. And then over the years as we kind of discovered who we are more and more and more with each project, I think it’s become a bit more intentional. We want our music to inspire people to get outside. We want to capture what it feels like.
What do you think is so intriguing about that connection between nature and the human soul? Is there wisdom in slowing down and just learning to look around?
Yeah, and this is something that we talk about all the time as a band when we’re feeling overwhelmed, or depressed, or anxious, or anything. The thing that grounds us the most is getting outside, and it helps us recenter ourselves. I don’t know, I think when you’re out on a hike or you’re out in nature doing something, your soul kind of connects to something bigger than yourself, and it helps you breathe again. I think that’s a big thing for all of us in the band.
Wild Spirit arrives August 23. Tell me, from the band’s perspective, what do you think makes this one a little bit different?
I think this album comes from a lot of soul searching, a lot of going through different personal things. This album captures what it’s like to get lost, and then what it feels like to find yourself when you’re lost. … When I was writing this album, I was working through all those things that I’ve been going through and kind of had this picture in my mind of a forest at night and being lost in it, and what it is to be terrified in this darkness, this unknown, this uncertainty. But also when you’re lost, the daylight comes and you start hiking up and you get different vantage point, and you see things clearer and see the beauty in the journey of it all.
During the writing process, was there a moment where things started to coalesce?
There was definitely a moment pretty early on that we kind of hit on, “This is what the album is, this is what it’s going to feel like, this is what it’s going to narratively be about.” And that was when I was writing “Wild Spirit.” I actually wrote that in Nashville, and it was just one of those writes that was super inspiring and [I] walked away from it really excited to re-listen to this song a million times. I sent it to the band after – I actually sent a group of songs – and that was the one song that everyone was like, whoa, “Wild Spirit.”
Tell me about “Timber.” I love mixing the natural theme with the romantic idea of falling like a tree in love. Where did that come from?
That was written as a love song to my wife Megan, who plays violin in the band. It was a song about letting go of anything that was holding me back and not in our relationship, but I mean, just candidly, we’ve been going through some stuff with our faith and our journey in that aspect. And yeah, this was a song about letting go of everything we’ve known and trust falling with each other, and just realizing that this is what is important to us – our relationship and each other. And that’s all. You just kind of let go of the roots that hold you and fall, and I think there’s a lot of beauty in that.
There’s some wonderful duet harmony on “Where You Are.” Can you tell me where that song came from?
“Where You Are” was a song I wrote about feeling kind of stuck in between places. Sometime I feel this “in-between” in life, coming out of something and moving into something else. Like antsy to get going again, and it was a song I wrote to myself like, “Hey, you can get where you’re going, but it’s okay to be where you’re at right now.” So it’s kind of a song about knowing that one day you’ll get to where you need to go, but it’s okay to not be there.
How about “Scenic Route”? This one is really beautiful to me and lyrically full of natural references. Spiritually speaking, do you tend to choose the scenic route? Or are you more of a direct to the point kind of guy?
I would say I’ve been a direct to the point kind of guy most of my life. And now I feel like more on the scenic route of things, just enjoying life, enjoying the things that matter and trying to slow it down. “Scenic Route” actually is one of the first songs I wrote for the record when I was still trying to figure out thematically what to do, and I really wrote it about Meg and being on a journey together. No matter what hard times we go through, again, it’s about leaning on the person that matters most to you and slowing it down and just enjoying life, even through uncertainty.
Big picture, I’m just wondering what you hope people take away from this one?
I just hope this album in particular can help people that are feeling lost, that are feeling confused, that feel stuck. I hope they know that they’re not alone and that it’s okay to be where you’re at. And then I also hope it can uplift musically. A big part of our brand and messaging is to inspire people to look at the world around them, to get outside and see the beauty in life. So I think those would be the main takeaways.
Anna Tivel and Jeffrey Martin have both released new albums in the past year that have knocked us right over. Living Thing is the most recent Anna Tivel record and Thank God We Left the Garden is the latest from Jeffrey Martin. Of all the singer-songwriter interviews and musician conversations we’ve done over the course of the pod, these two kooks have been a popular pair on this Basic Folk podcast. Their inspiration, musician life stories, and music career development have been fascinating journeys, Jeffrey being a former high school teacher and Anna spending her formative years intensely playing the fiddle before moving to Portland, Oregon at the age of 18.
In our conversation, the pair speak to several hot topics like, “Do you write about your neighbors,” “How’s your physical body at processing stress,” and “What is the point of your newsletter?” We dig right into it in true folk music podcast fashion, and these two are not holding back. If you are looking for some top notch advice, music collaboration ideas, and the latest in folk music trends – it remains to be seen whether you will find that here. What you will find are two very deep and thoughtful musicians sharing what goes on in their lives and hearts and in their designated work spaces. Spoiler alert: Anna’s office has five massive papier mâché eyeballs.
Photo Credit: Anna Tively by Cody Onthank; Jeffrey Martin by Jeffrey Martin
The world of Austin’s Matt the Electrician, AKA Matt Sever, is quirky and sincere. Sever is known for his work ethic and vibrant presence in the Austin, Texas music scene. Before music was full-time for him, Matt worked as an actual electrician in between folk music gigs and open mics. He found people were drawn to his skills in the trade, so he decided to make it part of his musical moniker. After self-releasing eleven studio albums and a couple of live sets, the name remains – even though he has not been a professional electrician for a long time.
In this episode of Basic Folk, Matt discusses his new album release, The Ocean Knocked Me Down, and shares insights into his songwriting process and the unique creative writing techniques that keep his music fresh. We learn about his experiences with the independent music community, performing live, and the joys of music discovery in the ’90s through alternative music magazines like Puncture Magazine.
Matt also opens up about the evolving landscape of music marketing strategies, reflecting on his journey from traditional methods to the more creative approach he employs today. For instance, Matt’s been conducting fake interviews on his social media between himself and Spotify, Facebook, and Rolling Stone that are hilarious. Also he reminisces about the excitement of finding new music back in the day and talks about his favorite snacks – like carnitas tacos and the benefits of black coffee – that clearly fuel his creativity.
Donovan Woods is not really the solid, secure man you might think you know through his thoughtful, deceptively soothing songs.
But he’s working on it.
“A lot of my songs are much more magnanimous than I am in real life,” said Wood, 43. “So I often am wrangling with that feeling of people thinking that I’m a very morally superior person, when in fact, the reality of me is not very close to that.”
Woods, a burly, bearded, soft-spoken Canadian who has been consistently releasing quality albums and touring since 2007 (except for the COVID years), recently released his new album, Things Were Never Good if They’re Not Good Now. It’s a typically solid offering from a writer who writes deeply personal songs, some of which work as mainstream country hits, like “Portland, Maine” for Tim McGraw.
Though modest and self-depreciating, Woods knows he’s come up with something special with “Back for the Funeral,” a song on the new album that captures the stage of life when the only time you see old friends is when one of them has died.
“After the service we’ll all meet up at the bar,” he sings. “Where my dad used to drink, now he just drinks in the yard/ And we’ll laugh about all the young dumb dreams we had/ And we’ll pretend we’re all only sad/ Because we’re back for the funeral.”
The song, written with Lori McKenna, is one of those that doesn’t seem like a new one. It feels familiar, like it’s always been there. McKenna had the title and it turned out Woods lived through the experience a few months earlier, when he returned home to Ontario to attend two funerals.
“Not all those details are exact, but I’m trying to get at that weird feeling of when you go home and you’re able to see it all at 30,000 feet for some reason, because you’re in the throes of grief,” he said.
In our exclusive BGS interview, we spoke about grief and mental health, poetry and Music Row songwriting, and more.
So I understand the new songs were influenced by therapy you underwent for your mental health. Is that true?
Yes. I’m as liberal as they come, but I think I still have this toxic masculinity in me. I do think that expressing need threatens my masculinity and it’s such a deep, ingrained thing in me. It’s embarrassing to admit, but I still do have those hang ups.
What kind of therapy did you have?
I had probably what would be considered a midlife crisis. … I felt like I was losing touch with my life slightly. I was unwell and I could tell [it was true] by the reaction of people in my life who weren’t particularly thrilled with me. I did some addiction therapy, I did some standard stuff and I did some couples therapy with my wife.
Like a lot of men, I wasn’t admitting when I was sad or when I was upset or when I was unhappy, because we love this image of this stoic individual that we’ve all grown up adoring — this unaffected, unflappable man. You’re trying to be that, because you think that’s the right thing to be for your family. I let that get away from me. I had become two guys, my internal self who knew that I was upset or hurt or I need something, and then this forward-facing person that I created, which was sort of a lie. I had to reunite those two things again, and I found it really difficult.
Your rather gentle singing sometimes belies the depth and the hurt in your lyrics. Is that an artistic choice you’re making?
That’s kind of just how my voice is. In the days before microphones, I don’t know that I would have been able to have this job. I don’t talk that loud or sing that loud, either. Singing is more like self-soothing to me than it is communication. I do it because I like it. It makes me feel good. When I’m stressed, I do it. It’s like being nice to myself.
Your lyrics are effective even separated from the music. Have you done any poetry or prose writing?
I appreciate that. My heroes are the people who are actually singing poets, like Paul Simon and John Prine. I feel like that’s what a singer-songwriter is at the core. … I will write poetry for myself now and then. I have tried to write short stories and I’m not good at it. I don’t know how to do long things. The idea that it can be anything is terrifying to me.
You must like Mark Cohn too, based on your cover of his “Don’t Talk to Her at Night” on the new album.
He’s kind of a high-water mark in songwriting for a lot of writers, especially men. There’s an elegance in his writing that is so unreachable to me. His American earnestness is not available to me as a Canadian. I always think I have to be self-deprecating or not showy in my writing. I think it’s just like the mindset of a Canadian. My dad is a big fan, and I have listened to him my whole life.
Do you have a family background that pointed you toward becoming an artist?
I grew up in a really working class town [Sarnia, Ontario], where everybody’s dad works in these petrochemical plants around the border of Michigan. My dad worked in construction estimating jobs. … My friends all work in petrochemical plants, or they work in adjacent fields to those plants. One of them is a chiropractor, which actually is adjacent to the petrochemical plants too, because everybody has a bad back in the entire city. … I was not a wonderfully artistic kid. I was given a guitar by my mom and I took like, four or five months of lessons. I just really enjoyed writing songs, and did it for myself for a decade before I ever did it publicly.
Is it true your dad named you after the folk singer Donovan?
I am. He’s one of my dad’s favorite singer-songwriters, along with Fred Eaglesmith. I got to tell [Donovan] that once, too. I’ve never seen anybody be less interested in something.
Do you still live in Canada with your family, or have you moved to one of the music industry cities in the states?
I have three kids. I have one ex-wife and my wife that I’m married to now. I live in Toronto mostly, and I’m in Nashville sometimes to write.
Do you do the Nashville writing thing where you have appointments and try to write hits with other writers?
I still have a publishing deal in Nashville, so I’m there writing sometimes with other people. I do it less than I used to, but I still enjoy that very much. I love other songwriters. It’s pretty rare that I don’t like a songwriter. So I enjoy that, that afternoon of trying to finish something.
And that’s worked out for you sometimes with hits, right?
There’s a song called “Grew Apart” that was a hit for Logan Mize. When somebody else wants to record one of your songs, that’s about as good of a compliment as you can get as a writer. It’s always really flattering. I hope [more of] that happens. … I mostly fail at writing Nashville songs. I fail like about 95% of the time.
You’ll be heading out on tour this fall to promote the new album. Are you looking forward to that?
I am always on the road more than I would like to be. But I’ve had much worse jobs. I enjoy 85% of it.
Madeline Finn is a thoughtful writer and dynamic artist. Madeline transcends the boundaries of genre, crafting pieces that pull elements from folk, rock, and indie. Their songs are honest, relatable, and catchy.
Madeline feels that her role as an LGBTQ+ musician is bigger than herself and she values uplifting her community. She hopes to embody the queer representation that she longed for as a kid. In our Out Now interview, Madeline shares their vision for the future, their upcoming projects, and their journey into self-producing music.
We are thrilled to be featuring Madeline Finn at our next Queerfest show in Nashville at Vinyl Tap on Wednesday, August 7. The show runs from 7-9 pm and features four local LGBTQ+ artists. There’s a ticket suggestion of $10 that goes directly to supporting the artists. Don’t miss out on the chance to hear Madeline Finn live!
Why do you create music? What’s more satisfying to you, the process or the outcome?
Madeline Finn: I used to be more amped up on the outcome, but these days I have really fallen in love with the process. Mostly since I have started self-producing. It’s so much fun and I could do it literally all day.
You create within a wide range of musical genres including folk, rock, and indie. How do you navigate your identity as an artist who works across several genres?
Honestly, I have no idea. I’ve been trying to just let go and make music that’s fun and meaningful to me. Whatever the genre might end up being doesn’t matter that much to me.
What does it mean to you to be an LGBTQ+ musician?
Being a queer musician is a special thing. Especially because it’s becoming less and less special, if you know what I mean. I am one of many LGBTQ+ artists who make up a whole force of nature. I see my role as a part of the whole, a part of something way bigger than me. The more we uplift our community with art that speaks directly to the queer experience, I think the more healing can be done. The more healing that can be done within each individual, the more we heal the human experience as a whole.
I’m so jazzed on the queer music community and wish I would have had more folks like that growing up to listen to. Honored to be what I needed when I was a kid, now.
For anyone reading this who might not be out of the closet, were there any specific people, musicians, or resources that helped you find yourself as a queer individual?
Specifically, I found a lot of help as a kiddo from The Trevor Project. I also was able to find a safe adult/family member to talk to about it before I came out to my immediate circle. For those who are in adulthood I would highly recommend THERAPY!
You’ve been on the team at Wild Heart Meditation Center for a few years. What has that experience been like for you? Do you find that your meditation practice influences your music?
Wild Heart Meditation Center has been the single most important part of my personal growth and healing over the past five to six years. I came to the center interested in meditation and since then have fallen deeply in love with the practice and the teachings of the Buddha. It’s been so rewarding to be offered an opportunity to share that with the community and others as a facilitator. My practice influences every single part of my life, music included. It’s helped me let go of the craving that often surrounds a career like this, I have gained a deep freedom from contentment within my musical career. I honestly think you can hear it in the music. The shows are more fun for me, I am not afraid of what others think, not sitting around waiting for someone to give me my golden ticket. Instead, I know that I can rest in the reality of this moment and have a deep, non-attached appreciation for all the beautiful parts I encounter.
What has it been like for you to work with other LGBTQ+ artists in the music industry?
The LGBTQ+ music scene here in Nashville has been amazing. It’s this collaborative, joyful machine that just runs all on its own. Getting to hear music direct from artists like Autumn Nicholas and to play for so many other queer folks just gets me so pumped.
It’s like “Y’ALL WE ARE DOING IT!!!” I’d like to believe it’s deeply healing for my inner child.
What’s your ideal vision for your future?
My ideal vision for my future is to have chickens, mainly. If I can have a little space in the world with chickens, my wife, and my dog I am all set. Beyond that, I try not to set too many expectations for the future. Instead, I am really practicing following my intuition towards the next most meaningful step. One day at a time.
What are your release and touring plans for the next year?
I have been hard at work on my own record based on the IFS (internal family systems) model of therapy, it’s my first venture into self-production and I’m hoping to have it ready to start sharing singles by the end of the year.
My pop-rock project ENVOI just released a brand new album in May, so there is a chance we may be doing some live shows to support that. In addition, I’m working on a project with Liv Lombardi here in Nashville that is going to totally slay.
As far as touring goes, I’ll be around playing bass, guitar, and singing for a TON of artists throughout the rest of the year and there have been talks about an East Coast run for my solo material in the fall.
Artist:JEMS Hometown: Los Angeles, California Latest Album:Back Around Personal nicknames (or rejected band names): Wild Valley Dream Weavers, lots of others!
Which artist has influenced you the most – and how?
I grew up with Joni Mitchell. For every season of life, her music feels like the soundtrack. I find myself returning to songs and finding new meanings as my scope continues to broaden and deepen. Her voice is unapologetically her own and I am so inspired by her journey. – Emily
What was the first moment that you knew you wanted to be a musician?
When my dad played me the song “Eleanor Rigby” I had a major lightbulb moment. I don’t think I had realized how powerful music as storytelling was until then. I must’ve been 8 or 9 and my imagination burst wide open. – Jess
Probably when I started playing the songs I was writing as a kid for my Dad. He was both kind and critical in ways that confirmed that I wanted to work on and share my songs with not just him, but everyone. – Sarah Margaret
Genre is dead (long live genre!), but how would you describe the genres and styles your music inhabits?
We each have distinct vocal timbres and have been influenced by the genres we grew up listening to, from jazz and soul to indie rock to classical and film scores to folk and Americana. That diversity adds a richness to our blend and has influenced how we approach melody, harmony, and storytelling. As a trio, we live in the folk world, but lean into many other lanes depending on the instrumentation and production of each song.
If you didn’t work in music, what would you do instead?
I’d be a hairdresser. I cut and color hair for fun/therapy and I truly love it. Although I don’t know if I’d love it as much if I had to do it… – Jess
I’d be a private chef. I love going to farmer’s markets, learning from local farmers and artisans, and expressing myself through food. Maybe it’s the French in me! – Emily
A marine biologist, or boat captain, or something that lets me be in and around the ocean all the time. – Sarah Margaret
If you were a color, what shade would you be – and why?
Gold! I’d don’t know why, but I’ve just always felt like the sunshine. – Jess
Olive green. I’d like to be as warm, relaxing, and grounded as that color! – Sarah Margaret
If you didn’t work in music, what would you do instead?
I would work in construction or be a lawyer or a therapist.
If you were a color, what shade would you be – and why?
I would be green – green represents plants and herbs that heal us. I’d like to be the person that saves a person’s day
What would a perfect day as an artist and creator look like to you?
Cooking and having good healthy meal, editing projects I produce for friends, playing soccer with friends, having a cocktail in a dive bar watching a local band perform.
What was the first moment that you knew you wanted to be a musician?
It was when I was like 12, I went to this school that had a choir and when I listened to them sing, it was amazing then I knew I have to try singing. That’s where singing starts for me, but wanting to be a musician was never a plan, I just went with the flow of life and ended up being one… none of my friends even believe I sing.
Which elements of nature do you spend the most time with and how do those impact your work?
Gardening and soccer always reminds me that life is not all about just work, it calms my mind; when I get back to work I feel less pressured by the whole work system and pace.
Early in my recent interview with Swamp Dogg, the iconoclastic singer-songwriter and producer makes a self-aware confession: “I have read columns about Swamp Dogg and so forth, and I try to find out what they classify me as,” referring to the veritable grab-bag of hyphenated micro genres that music writers use to classify him. We connected a few days out from the release of his latest album, Blackgrass: From West Virginia to 125th St, and the artist, born Jerry Williams Jr., seems unbothered. Later he adds, “When I do the Swamp Dogg albums, I really don’t try to please anybody but myself.”
He has known from the jump that the music industry doesn’t know what to do with him. Working as a singer and songwriter under the name Little Jerry Williams, Swamp enjoyed some success with his 1964 soul 7 inch, “I’m The Lover Man,” and was subsequently invited to perform at clubs in the Midwest. As Swamp remembers, “When I showed up they found out I was Black and the audience was lily white. They were good about it, they paid me and said I didn’t have to do a second show.” The small-mindedness of industry gatekeepers would follow him into his first musical steps as Swamp Dogg.
In 1971, Swamp released his second album, Rat On!, on Elektra Records. He was dropped from the label immediately after the release. At issue was the provocatively titled, “God Bless America For What,” track six on the album, which Elektra had pressured Swamp to leave on the cutting room floor. He kept the song, and his brief stint with Elektra was over. (The album cover, featuring Swamp in a victory pose astride an enormous white rat, might also have earned him some detractors in the office.) Asked if he considered caving to the label’s demands, he quickly sets me straight. “No! No. Nuh-uh. I’m dealing in truth!”
The controversy surrounding Rat On! did nothing to slow Swamp’s momentum as a creative force and in the years since its release, has proven itself a classic of left-of-center soul. He produced artists like Patti LaBelle, Z.Z. Hill, and Irma Thomas. Swamp also continued working in A&R. He signed a still-mostly-unknown John Prine to Atlantic Records in 1968, later reuniting with Prine for what would turn out to be the final recording made by the legendary storyteller. Swamp built a cult following among indie music fans in the know, collaborating with artist-tastemakers Justin Vernon and Jenny Lewis – the latter of whom returns as a guest on Blackgrass, as well. He dunked on the snobbier side of the mainstream with albums like Love, Loss, and Auto-Tune, and I Need A Job… So I Can Buy More Autotune.
A list of Swamp’s credits tells the story of one of the most fascinating music careers of the last century, but he himself tells an even deeper one. He speaks about painful failures, like when he became a millionaire in the 1970s and the sudden reality of wealth gutted his mental health. “The right word is obnoxious, I really became obnoxious, my wife pointed out to me. I was running so much that I would run in my sleep and run out of the bed.”
When the nine cars in the family garage proved insufficiently curative, she got him to see a therapist, a “who’s who psychiatrist” in Swamp’s words. He tells me so many sweet things about the great love of his life, Yvonne Williams. “My wife, she was a Leo. She was a strong Leo, she was a leader. Everybody loved her. Everybody feared her when it came to brain-to-brain. She could knock your shit right out the box. She was the reason I made a little money. Her name was Yvonne and I still think about her.” Subsequent girlfriends have told him he is still in mourning, and a second marriage was short-lived.
Discussing his musical roots, Swamp lists “blues, soul, R&B, pop, just about everything except classical and polka, and gotta add country there, cause country is what I was listening to growing up as a kid.”
His brand new record, Blackgrass, released May 31 on Oh Boy Records, is an inventive, often moving exploration of the genre. Sensitive instrumentation by Jerry Douglas, Sierra Hull, Chris Scruggs, and Noam Pikelny, among others, pairs beautifully with Swamp’s varied vocal performances across all 12 tracks. “The Other Woman,” featuring Margo Price, is an elegant update of the classic written by Swamp and first performed by Doris Duke. And Swamp himself is at home as a country vocalist, playing characters like the neighborhood ne’er-do-well on “Mess Under That Dress,” the lovelorn crooner on “Gotta Have My Baby Back,” and delivering a breathtaking country gospel performance on “This Is My Dream.”
Even as Blackgrass offers country music moments that should please even the most determined traditionalists, Swamp Dogg remains committed to surprising his listeners. “Rise Up,” for example, a Swamp original first recorded by the Commodores – “Atlantic didn’t know what to do with them!”– is reincarnated as a country-meets-alternative rock and roll foot stomper, with a guitar solo by Living Colour’s Vernon Reid, which readers should listen to in a safe and seated position.
One of the great rebellions of Blackgrass is the singer’s assumption, on an album that is being marketed to country and roots media, of a Black audience. He explains, “I’m calling it Blackgrass … mainly because of the banjo. When I was coming up the minute somebody said ‘country music’ or ‘banjo’ … we turned our nose up at it, way up until Charley Pride came along.”
As Black listeners, we are being made to understand that this record is for us, decades of deliberate exclusion from the genre be damned. Its creator is equanimous about how the art will be received. “If this one sells enough, there will be a next record. If it doesn’t, there will still be a next record. I’ll put it out myself.”
Fifty years since “I’m The Lover Man,” Swamp Dogg remains curious about, and frequently explodes, the boxes into which small-minded gatekeepers of popular music have attempted to place him. As he recalls some of the more colorful antagonists along his musical journey, Swamp is gracious in the knowledge that he has had the last laugh. He speaks with refreshing pettiness about his early critics, reasoning, “The people that I dealt with back in the day are either dead or don’t know who they are. And I know I’m in line for that, but I keep jumping out of line. When I see myself getting near the front of the line I jump out and go to the end of the line.”
As usual, Swamp Dogg plays in his own time. He has finally outlived the haters.
It is no exaggeration to say that co-host Lizzie No has waited over 20 years to talk to Ryan. They became a fan of the New England indie outfit in 2003 when the group opened for John Mayer at the West Point Military Academy, of all places. The vibe in the room was a little stiff, but Guster was anything but. Their exuberant, generous, harmony filled, idiosyncratic performance blew her teenage mind. As Lizzie dug deeper into their lore, they discovered that they were a part of a vast network of weirdos: The Guster fandom.
Photo Credit: Alysse Gafkjen
This website uses cookies to improve your experience. We'll assume you're ok with this, but you can opt-out if you wish.AcceptRead More
Privacy & Cookies Policy
Privacy Overview
This website uses cookies to improve your experience while you navigate through the website. Out of these, the cookies that are categorized as necessary are stored on your browser as they are essential for the working of basic functionalities of the website. We also use third-party cookies that help us analyze and understand how you use this website. These cookies will be stored in your browser only with your consent. You also have the option to opt-out of these cookies. But opting out of some of these cookies may affect your browsing experience.
Necessary cookies are absolutely essential for the website to function properly. This category only includes cookies that ensures basic functionalities and security features of the website. These cookies do not store any personal information.
Any cookies that may not be particularly necessary for the website to function and is used specifically to collect user personal data via analytics, ads, other embedded contents are termed as non-necessary cookies. It is mandatory to procure user consent prior to running these cookies on your website.
