Tag: indigo girls

MIXTAPE: Jim and Sam’s Songs That Got Us Through Playing One Show Every Day for a Year

Posted on by Editor

“We discovered these songs right before we left home, while we were on the road, or soon after we got back from our 365-everyday tour. Each song is soaked in nostalgia and transports us right back into the wildest year of our lives. The songs of ours that appear on this Mixtape were born during or inspired by our tour.” — Jim and Sam, from the film After So Many Days

Jim and Sam – “After So Many Days”

On day 360, we were nearing Santa Barbara on our last cross-country trip of the tour. We were both feeling overwhelmed, sad, excited, and confused as we were inching our way back home to Los Angeles. We were listening to songs we had discovered while traveling throughout 14 different countries, when the last song came to an end. The car was quiet, tears were rolling down both of our faces, and we decided to pull over into a strip mall parking lot to take a break. We pulled out the guitar and a notebook, and this song came pouring out. We ended up using the original audio recording of this writing session as the soundtrack to the final moments of the film. When the tour ended, we tucked the song away for a while, and it ended up being the last song we recorded for the album.

Lucinda Williams – “Passionate Kisses”

This song captures so many of the simple things we want out of life and our career. Lucinda’s endless drive as an artist has always inspired us. “Is it too much to demand/ I want a full house and a rock-‘n’-roll band/ Pens that won’t run out of ink/ And cool quiet and time to think…”

Mulligan Brothers – “So Are You”

For 30 days we were on tour in Sweden with the amazing bluegrass band, The Mulligan Brothers. It took us all a few nights to get comfortable with each other, but once we did, the rest of the month felt like summer camp. Whether it was sitting on the stage after a show telling stories all night, late night fast food runs, discovering small Swedish towns together, or just listening to their amazing music night after night — having another road family for a month was a really magical and necessary part of the year.

Katie Melua – “Mary Pickford”

There was a week where we had to keep booking, cancelling, and rebooking our flight because our plans were changing. Every time we called up Norwegian Air, this song was playing in the background. What started out as an earworm became a song that traveled with us throughout the rest of the year and we now love. It’s also a beautiful song about the power of collaboration.

Jim and Sam – “Bloodstream”

The song is about trusting someone enough to let them see (and help you calm) your panic. It’s also about being there for the person you love in their most vulnerable moments. This song was co-written and produced by one of our best friends, Hustle Standard. HS had surprised us along the tour by attending several shows in LA, New York, and Houston. Knowing he had seen firsthand how we were struggling and changing during the tour, we knew we wanted to collaborate with him for the record.

Grateful Dead – “Brokedown Palace”

We got invited to play a birthday party at a farm filled with alpacas and goats in upstate New York, and were asked to play any Grateful Dead song we knew. Not being too familiar with The Dead we asked a Deadhead friend of ours what song we should cover… with no hesitation they texted back, “Brokedown Palace.”

Lauren Ruth Ward – “Did I Offend You”

We met Lauren playing on the same bill at Echo Park Rising in Los Angeles. We were first to go on that day and no one was in the room except for Lauren and LP. We stayed to watch Lauren’s set and were blown away by her power on stage. Even in the quiet moments she took up all of the space in the room. We’ve been a huge fan of hers ever since… This is one of our favorites.

LP – “Lost on You”

We met LP the same night we met Lauren. About a month later we went to watch her at an intimate venue in LA. We heard her sing a song called “Lost on You” (before it became the global hit that it is now). Jim and I turned to each other as we normally do when we both hear a song we love. About a year later, she was touring all over Europe and asked us to join her for a few shows during our year. After so many days of small and strange venues, playing to a sold out room of 3000 people in cities we had never been to was insane.

Rayland Baxter – “Yellow Eyes”

Something about the sound of this song reminds of the lines on the road when we’re leaving a city we just played in.

Jim and Sam – “Cold Cold Blood” (feat. Good Harvest & Rob Lewis)

A good friend of ours, Jono Hart, was putting on shows in churches throughout the UK. We actually met him right before our tour began. He said to us, “Any time you’re in the UK let me know, and if you need a church or a show, give me a call.” He ended up booking us some of our favorite shows on the tour, and he also gave us the key to this gorgeous church in Stoke Newington, London, to record. In the pouring rain, our friend, composer and cellist Rob Lewis, kindly let us borrow his gear and talent and we recorded this version in about 45 minutes before we had to leave. We then asked one of our favorite duos from Sweden, Good Harvest, to contribute their incredible harmonies to the track about 200 days later in another church, this time in Falun, Sweden. Finally, we had Tyler Chester record guitars in a garage in LA and Ryan Lipman mixed the track somewhere in Highland Park.

William Fitzsimmons – “Second Hand Smoke”

A year after our tour we got invited to support William Fitzsimmons throughout North America and Europe in a few venues we had always dreamed of playing. Picking a favorite from William is hard, but even after 40 nights of hearing his set… we’d usually always stand in the wings to listen to this one.

Tom Petty – “Walls”

Tom Petty passed away during the last month of our tour and became the soundtrack of our final month while driving home. We still quote this song everytime we are having a bad day… “some days are diamonds, some days are rocks.”

Chimney – “Paintings Are the Only Place You Never Lied to Me”

Chimney (aka Dan Molad) is a longtime friend of ours and also the producer of our Yeah Whatever Young Forever EP as well as the soundtrack tracks, “Unravel” and “Saturday Night (Low).” Jim wrote this song with Danny about our mutual friend who passed away. A few months before the tour, Danny had Facetimed Jim asking to help expand on an idea he started. One hour later, the song was finished, and 48 hours later Danny had recorded the song for his debut record.

Indigo Girls – “Closer to Fine”

We often roll the windows down and unapologetically sing this song at the top of our lungs like two high school girls getting ready for choir practice.

Jake Hill & Deep Creek – “High & Low”

Jake Hill is one of our oldest friends and remains a songwriter who is constantly inspiring us with whatever he’s creating. During our tour he hosted us for an event called Supper & Song in Plymouth, Massachusetts, where he would prepare an incredible three-course meal for a room full of people in a building from the 1800s…he would then play a few of his amazing songs and introduce another artist to perform. This was easily one of our favorite evenings on the tour and this is one of our favorite Jake Hill songs.

Jim and Sam – “Witch in a Window”

Upon returning home to LA from the tour we felt some whiplash; we had just emerged from feeling so inspired after having such intimate and real connections with strangers all around the world, then all of a sudden were thrown back into a city and industry obsessed with first impressions and fueled by small talk. Everything felt magnified. We began noticing people morphing into different versions of themselves to fit in or get ahead. We love LA; however, “Witch in a Window” is our tribute to the trickery and disguise the city perpetuates and makes us all believe we have to keep up with.

Rob Lewis – “The Sea”

We first heard this song from our friend Rob Lewis as a demo in his car on a rainy night in London. This song and all of Rob’s music is ethereal, calming, surprising and inspiring. Rob played cello on a few songs on our album and also contributed a few stunning score pieces to the film.

Starship – “Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now”

Self explanatory.

Photo credit: Mike Zwahlen

 

BGS Launches Shout & Shine Video Series with Black Harpist & Songwriter Lizzie No

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Like many of us, Lizzie No is weary of quarantine. Yet as the New York City musician and harpist joins BGS on the phone to talk about her life in pandemic isolation, her songwriting, her creative processes, and the growing pains intrinsic to all of the above, the joy in her voice cracks through the fatigued outer layers we all wear right now. A Black creator in traditionally white genres, No brings a distinct and important perspective to help guide longtime BGS column Shout & Shine into a new era.

In 2017, Shout & Shine began as an interview series dedicated to exploring identity, advocacy, and marginalization, along with the ways these paradigms filter into music and art, especially of roots varieties. Taking today’s civil unrest and righteous rebellions into account, we’ve purposefully refocused this column’s mission with the hope of giving a platform to Black musicians in roots music specifically, because these spaces too often relegate Black, Brown, Indigenous, and Asian voices to the sidelines.

Now, in addition to interviews and an upcoming podcast, BGS is proud to announce Shout & Shine will be moving to video! Lizzie No is our debut guest for the livestream version of Shout & Shine, which comprises short-form, intimate video performances by underrepresented and marginalized artists in Americana, folk, and bluegrass.

Lizzie No’s Shout & Shine set, presented by Preston Thompson Guitars, will feature a brand new song, “Mourning Dove Waltz,” and will be streamed live on BGS, our YouTube channel, and Facebook page on August 5 at 4pm PT / 7pm ET. In the meantime, read a little more about No’s songwriting, her approach to roots-driven harp, and her thoughts on tokenism — and why white folks perhaps shouldn’t feel free to lead that kind of conversation.

Editor’s Note: You can watch Lizzie No’s Shout & Shine performance in full below:

BGS: I wanted to start — and this is a little selfish — with “Mourning Dove Waltz,” because I’m an avid birdwatcher and in shelter-in-place everyone is watching birds! This song is not only about quarantine, but also the idea of being in an old space, but with new intention. Can you tell us a little bit about that song, through the lens of isolation, and creativity in isolation?

Lizzie No: That’s a brand new song and I think you can tell I wrote it during quarantine. I was never terribly interested in birds before March of this year. My mom always loved and delighted in them and I always thought it was very cute, but they never captured my attention. Right as we were truly locked down here in New York and a lot of people were making the decision to try to go somewhere else, it felt like there weren’t any rules anymore. I decided to stay here in my apartment and I ended up having so many hours, especially first thing in the morning, where I would just sit and try to make the day’s activities stretch out over the longest period of time possible so I wouldn’t go insane. 

That’s when I started to notice a couple of Mourning Doves had nested in my plant boxes on my balcony. It felt miraculous to get to watch them every single day through the balcony door. [They] laid two eggs, we watched them hatch, we posted about them on Instagram, we took name suggestions. It was this unfolding thing I didn’t think I cared about until I had this uninterrupted time where I didn’t need to be doing anything other than staying calm. I was pretty much on these birds’ schedule. I noticed when they took their breaks in the middle of the day and when mom and dad would switch places. Of course, this is so cheesy, but I felt a real loss when the babies grew up and flew away. As a songwriter, it led me to thinking about losing people. About losing a sense of connection. That’s what led to that song. 

The harp is one of my favorite instruments, but through no fault of its own — besides maybe its complexity — it’s not common in roots genres. How did you find it, and how did you infuse it into your songwriting and artistry?

After giving up on violin as a kid [Laughs] I thought harp was one of the biggest and weirdest and coolest-looking instruments. I took lessons for all of elementary, middle, and high schools and then I hit the point in high school where friends were starting bands and I wanted to be part of it. I wanted to be able to sing and play and strum along while singing, but I didn’t play guitar and I didn’t play piano; I played harp. Basically the harp just had to catch up with my evolving interests in the Indigo Girls and Brandi Carlile. That’s where I was at when I was 16. 

I didn’t really see any examples of people who were doing that — though now I know that there are. I think I saw videos of people like Joanna Newsom and Edmar Castañeda, people who weren’t playing the classical music that I was used to. Then I tried to just treat it like a bass, then trying to pick out a few chords. The motto being, “Nothing too fancy.” I wanted to get to a point where I could play and sing at the same time. That’s when I was first starting to write songs, so the skills developed together. 

I can notice that! I notice mainly because I play banjo and songwrite on banjo, and it’s such a different beast than writing on piano or guitar. There are so many similarities in the way you’re writing and backing yourself up. Especially in the way you’re comping on harp, it reminds me so much of banjo rolls — how John Hartford or Ashley Campbell or Béla Fleck, banjoists that might have more “composed” songs, might play. Do you see those similarities? 

That’s a very kind comparison! That’s the kind of music I listen to, but it’s funny because I don’t feel like I really have any harp inspirations to my playing — which is not to say I’m not inspired by great harpists, because of course I am, but that’s not really what influences me when I’m writing songs and figuring out how the harp is going to fit into the songwriting. Someone like Béla Fleck especially, I listen to his playing a lot and those are the types of textures and rhythms that I’m hearing when I’m writing on harp. Rather than something that actually contains a harp. [Laughs]

For the remainder of the year, our Shout & Shine series will be devoted to Black artists and part of that is in response to the current rebellion against racial injustice and police brutality — and also due to the heightened awareness of how Black voices and forebears in country and roots music have been erased for so long. Do you worry about this sudden uptick in enthusiasm and awareness resulting in more tokenization of Black artists? And I have to add a quick aside, because it is intrinsically tokenizing for me to ask that question, right? It’s a hard thing to unpack, so I’d love to hear your perspective on it. 

I really appreciate that and I appreciate you acknowledging that it’s difficult to talk about. Even assuming that it’s OK to have the conversation between a white person or a white journalist or a white audience or a white editor — whomever is doing the asking — and a Black artist is one of the problems. That being said, I’m happy to have it right now because I knew we were going to come into this conversation and talk about a whole bunch of topics. I’m happy to give my two cents: I think if non-Black listeners and fans and enthusiasts of the genre are thinking about [these issues], just know that those of us who deal with this day in and day out are going to be exhausted and aren’t going to be the best people to always go to. That’s a great place to start, knowing it’s so much heavier. It’s not intellectual, for us. It’s a lived reality. 

As far as tokenization goes, I do worry about it and I worry about it because I remember when I was in high school — I went to a really competitive boarding school — college acceptance letters were coming out and everyone was on edge. This is a time when we had Honesty Box on Facebook, where you could send an anonymous message — which, in retrospect, what a horrible way to let people bully each other. I remember getting a message that just said, “Affirmative Action” after I got into Stanford. It was so hurtful to me. Intellectually I knew that Affirmative Action is a wonderful program and it helps deserving people get into schools they deserve to get into. (I also had excellent grades and, you know, I’m smart as shit. So go away!) But it was hurtful to think that my peers didn’t see that in me and what they saw was my skin color. 

That’s such a trite way of putting it, but I think a lot of people maybe subconsciously think about Black artists in Americana, in spaces where Black people are not the standard, as “diversity hires.” They may even be for that. Like, “It’s great that we have these diverse perspectives!” They don’t realize that we are a fundamental part of these spaces and we deserve to be here. Just as much as everybody else. We have roots in these geographical regions and these genres that go just as deep as white artists. We shouldn’t have to rattle off our qualifications. 

There have been so many movements of Black artists who didn’t want to be called “Black artists” for this reason. They didn’t want to be put on the “Black Feminists” bookshelf and be marginalized [further] in that way. I definitely identify with that. I’m Black and I’m proud, in a very 1970s way, so I am proud to have the label of a “Black Americana artist.” I think my Blackness informs my work just as much as my hometown, my feminism, etc. 

I do worry about the swingback of resentment! That anonymous message of, “OK, when are we going to be done giving these people a hand?” Meanwhile, [Black folks] have been working twice as much for all of our careers. If anyone was wondering, we’re not going to stop asking for the door to be opened and we’re not going to stop kicking the door down just because people get tired of the trends. If people are about to get sick of it, well… you can leave. [Laughs] 

Who would you like to see on Shout & Shine? And maybe, beyond that, who are some artists or creators right now that you’re gaining inspiration, or joy, or energy from right now?

Lately I have been listening to mostly rock and I think it has changed how I think about my folk writing, so if I could be allowed to go a little bit outside of the genre…

I have been listening to The Beths a lot. They have a great new album out, [Jump Rope Gazers], and the lyrics are fantastic and their melodies are so fantastic, I’m probably going to try to cover one of their songs. I love catchy melodies — like, I love Carly Rae Jepsen, I listen to her constantly. 

A former bandmate opened my ears to new types, new ways of being a singer/songwriter. I don’t know if you know Bartees Strange but he used to play guitar for me. He does a really good combo of like, doing a really great solo show and he’ll do a full post-punk, indie-rock show. He and all of his collaborators are great. He just invited me and another New York artist, Oceanator, onto a live stream — she’s fantastic. She also plays solo and with a full rock band. Those are New York homies I listen to a ton. 

I love Sunny War’s playing. She’s a friend and she’s the best. Her live shows are the most mesmerizing thing ever. I’ve been loving listening to her as well. 

(Editor’s note: Tune in on August 5, 2020 at 4pm PT / 7pm ET for Lizzie No’s debut performance for Shout & Shine. On BGS, our YouTube channel, and/or Facebook.)

All photos: Gabriel Barreto

Indigo Girls Expand “Country Radio” With Black, Brown and Queer Musicians

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Hollywood, the 2020 Netflix series from director-screenwriter Ryan Murphy, is a resplendent show dripping in Art Deco that does not wholly reimagine Los Angeles’ golden era, but rather subtly inserts a quintessential question: “What if?”

What if Hollywood hadn’t been as… ___-ist? (Sexist, racist, misogynist, ageist, etc.) If one happens to be born into a region, a folkway, a culture, an art form that doesn’t include you, or that doesn’t quite love you back, one often doesn’t realize it until it’s too late. And then what? Do we, the rural, country-loving queers, wait around for our Ryan Murphy to reimagine the world to better include us? Not quite.

For Emily Saliers and Amy Ray of Indigo Girls — and, for that matter, almost each and every queer who has ever loved roots music — that “What if?” question is existential, but it also doesn’t matter. What if country music loved LGBTQ+ folks? The lyrics of “Country Radio,” a track off the duo’s sixteenth studio album, Look Long, tell it plainly: “But as far as these songs will take me/ Is as far as I’ll go/ I’m just a gay kid in a small town/ Who loves country radio.”

While curating the following playlist of their favorites from country music airwaves and songs they wish were included there, Saliers and Ray offer a quite simple solution actionable in each present moment: Be who you are, listen to the music that brings you joy, love who you love — and be anti-racist.

Emily Saliers: [I began with the idea:] What are the songs that I listened to that I latched onto, that sort of gave me a feeling of “I can’t get into this song [because of its heteronormativity], but I love this song so much”? One of the first songs that came to mind is “Mama’s Song” by Carrie Underwood. 

I should preface this by saying, I don’t expect that there can’t be heteronormative country songs, or that queer life has to be explicitly represented in songs, it’s not that. It’s the feeling of the way a song moves me emotionally, but then it stops me a little bit short of being able to fully experience it because of the language or the obvious implications of man and woman.

I love Carrie Underwood’s voice and she’s taken more of a harder, pop direction since “Mama’s Song,” but she sings this so beautifully. She’s talking to her mother, “He is good… he treats me like a real man should,” and yet the beauty of her song [is in] her telling her mom that’s she’s going to be okay. 

Amy Ray: For me it’s a little different because I never had the experience of feeling like I wish I could put myself in a song. I think it’s because, gender-wise, I always just related to the male singers. I kinda have that gender dysphoria, you know? [Chuckles] I have these filters that sort of make it my own — probably out of necessity, from growing up loving the Allman Brothers, Pure Prairie League, and Randy Travis so much. [Sings] “Amie, whatcha gonna do?” Pure Prairie League!

It’s very odd — Emily’s perspective on this is something I can understand, and I agree that it’s this weird disconnect with country music. We have to kind of acclimate it to ourselves, in some way, using some kind of trick in our minds. But I’ve always had that internal translator…

ES: Another example is Brett Young’s “In Case You Didn’t Know.” Now this is a song that you can listen to and fit your own queer life into it — as far as I remember it doesn’t have any gender pronouns. Then I watched the video and of course he’s singing to a woman who comes into the audience and he plays to her, alone. It’s a love song to his girlfriend — or wife or partner or whatever — so I could live in that song and think back to relationships and apply it in my own life, but then I watched the video and that door shut a little bit.

AR: I love Angaleena Presley, the Pistol Annies. Presley is such a great writer. “Better Off Red” is one of my favorite songs that she’s written… Honestly, if I hear songs, if I like it, I just put myself in it. I don’t really think about it or worry about it. It’s a survival mechanism from my youth, not that it’s the right thing to do. It’s built inside me.

…I thought you couldn’t be a country singer if you were gay and left-wing and a complete dyke. That made me feel more alienated than the songs themselves, that idea of its inaccessibility. Or, if you went to a show and you were sitting there in that audience, in the early days before it all kind of busted open, you would feel scared. Or judged. Or uncomfortable.

ES: Think about what a splash that song by Little Big Town, “Girl Crush,” had. Just the implication of a lesbian relationship or feelings! That song was a big hit, but it got people talking. [Probably] the majority of the people in this world lean more heteronormative, so they’re representing themselves in these songs. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with that. 

I wouldn’t want to listen to just albums that are for and by queer people, oh my god. No way! But we have to have them as part. I think about what an influence Ferron was, how much Amy and I love Ferron. When her first album came out, it was like, “Oh my gosh this is one of the best songwriters in the country and she’s queer!” I can’t describe how important it was to have an artist like that.

Even Lil Nas X, who had the number one hit forever-ever-ever with Billy Ray Cyrus. It’s awesome to know that he’s queer! And a guy like Young Thug, a rapper out of Atlanta, who’s not gender normative by any stretch, to me. It’s interesting. It’s good to have a mish mosh! It’s not that the majority of songwriters out there can’t be represented in their own songwriting, we just have to have ours, as well.

AR: [We] should add Amythyst Kiah. Amythyst is amazing.

[Racism] is the pivotal struggle of the Americana scene and the roots scene. How do you honor Black and Brown folks who want to be in this scene — and maybe some of them don’t even want to be in this scene because even Americana is rooted in questionable legacy. How much do people of color want to be immersed in that scene when it still feels so racist? Even the best parts of it. It’s a huge question to unwrap and it has to do with such a long history of where country music came from.

We stole the banjo and put it in our hillbilly music in the mountains and called it our own. We forgot all the stuff we learned from “our slaves,” you know? It’s crazy to me, if you think about the racist roots of where a lot of this comes from. Merging this racist legacy with this incredible populist music — music for the people, like Woody Guthrie, like the Carter Family. You get those two things bumping up against each other constantly, how do you entangle that and make this a space where it doesn’t matter what color you are? Where it doesn’t matter what your religious persuasion, or your political party, or your gender, or your sexual preference, or anything.

I think the way we deal with it is by all of us thinking all the time and being mindful of [that racist history]. And including [Black artists] in our playlists and touring with them. Some people are like, “What does it mean if you’re forcing this integration? Is it just going through the motions?” No! No, no, no.

ES: I’ll [echo] the things that Amy said, practically: Tour with Black musicians or Brown musicians or musicians who have not been able to feel that they’re welcome and make everybody welcome. Like Amythyst or Chastity Brown. Those are artists of color who have been discriminated against, who feel other-than in the world of their genres.

I think, first, we all — we white people, we people “of no color,” we “colorless” people — should dig deep, identify our own racism and how far it goes, how much we use it. Break it down, talk about it, identify it in each other. Really start from the core of things and hopefully act outwardly as a result of what we’ve dug through, inwardly. Try to heal and fix, you know? We’ve got to ask artists of color what their experience is like and why it’s like that. I’ve got to assume that there must be some Black artists, who if they hear a song from a white, country, roots singer about the freedom of driving down a dark, country road, they’re not going to feel the same way about the history of Black people down dark country roads. A lot of it is context and, as Amy says, there’s so much to be unraveled. But we are at a tipping point.

AR: Sister Rosetta Tharpe, I feel like there’s a lot of crossover, to me from that and the beginnings of early rock ‘n’ roll. That’s kind of what Elvis Presley was doing and borrowing from. I think about that sometimes, that territory. I like old recordings, like field recordings almost, of all the Alan Lomax type stuff he would collect. Field songs, prison songs. I think a lot of country writers have taken from that stuff, you know? 

I remember an interview with Kathleen Hanna that really resonated with me. She said, when they ask you who your favorite artists are, most of us name all these male artists. That’s who we can think of, because that’s who’s archived the best. Straight men, bands, and writers. If you sit down and really think about who you love and make a list of the women and the queer folks — this is what she was talking about, she wasn’t talking about color at the time or race or the social construct of race — and you take that list to your interviews and rattle off those names, you’ll be more honest, because you’ll be talking about who you really listen to and not just trying to remember [anyone] off the top of your head. 

People are so out of the habit — and so in the habit — of white supremacy that we don’t even know how to do the right things, just in our instincts. We have to learn, write it down, so we remember to do it.

Photo credit: Jeremy Cowart

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.

BGS 5+5: Sarah Siskind

Posted on by Editor

Artist: Sarah Siskind
Hometown: Brevard, North Carolina
Latest album: Modern Appalachia

Which artist has influenced you the most … and how?

I would say my biggest overall influence is The Story, which was an alt-folk duo out of Cambridge, Massachusetts in the ‘90s consisting of Jonatha Brooke and Jennifer Kimball. My dad used to bring cassettes home from the library of albums he would read reviews about and pass along ones to me he thought I’d like.

At the time I was way into Indigo Girls and Tracy Chapman (about age 13 or so), so when he first gave me Grace in Gravity by The Story, it unnerved me a little. But, then I woke up one morning and had to listen to it on repeat or I thought I’d die! So I listened to it on repeat. For years. The songs on that album are ingrained in me now. Dissonant harmonies. Bold chord changes. Strong female perspectives.

What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?

My favorite memory on-stage is when Bonnie Raitt asked me to sing “Angel From Montgomery” with her as a duet for the first time… and then after… she handed her guitar to me and said, “Play one of yours.” I’ll never forget that feeling. I felt like I was flying.

What rituals do you have, either in the studio or before a show?

The most effective ritual for me is to straight up pray. I ask God for peace of mind and for blessings over every note that comes out of my mouth. For Him to guide the show and for me to be a vessel. I also do some floor stretches if I can. When I toured with Paul Brady, I had a mix on my phone I would listen to before every show and it was Snatum Kaur, Lauryn Hill, and Mahalia Jackson; I would do stretches as I sang along.

Which elements of nature do you spend the most time with and how do those impact your work?

Water, definitely. The county where I live in North Carolina has the most waterfalls per capita in the country. However, I absolutely love rivers. When I’m really stuck, or having a rough day, I go to either the Davidson or French Broad River in Brevard, North Carolina, and trail run or just sit and pontificate. Watching the movement of water brings me back to center. The sound even more so. It reminds me how ultimately small we are in the big picture and that this vast earth was created through suffering way bigger than mine.

Since food and music go so well together, what is your dream pairing of a meal and a musician?

I love this question. I’m a closet chef. If I could have dinner with any musician, I would have a big southern meal of pulled pork, greens, and pintos with Danny Barnes.

Photo credit: Brian Boskind

LISTEN: Indigo Girls, “Country Radio”

Posted on by Editor

Artist: Indigo Girls
Hometown: Atlanta, Georgia
Song: “Country Radio”
Album: Look Long
Release Date: May 22, 2020
Label: Rounder Records

In Their Words: “I can tell it’s resonating with people. When I get to that line, ‘I’m just a gay kid who loves country radio,’ there’s an audible verbal response from the audience. This song is the way I felt doing those four-hour drives from Nashville to Atlanta, listening to country music radio. I could almost put my own life story in these songs, but I can’t. There are gender divisions and heteronormative realities. There’s a lot of self-homophobia that I’ve had to work on in my own life that plays into this as well.” — Emily Saliers, Indigo Girls

Photo credit: Jeremy Cowart

Alison Brown – Toy Heart: A Podcast About Bluegrass

Posted on by Chris Jacobs

Banjoist and record label head Alison Brown speaks with host Tom Power from her studio at Compass Records headquarters in Nashville, Tennessee. They begin with her early records made with Stuart Duncan, “finding her people,” and winning the Canadian National Banjo Championship (as an American).

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Brown then headed to Harvard, and playing banjo became “something you’d talk about at cocktail parties.” She describes the moment she decided to leave investment banking and commit to music full time, her cocktail napkin dream, and playing with Alison Krauss, Indigo Girls, and Michelle Shocked.

Power and Brown talk women in bluegrass, women in banjo, and the First Ladies of Bluegrass. The story they dive into together is ultimately about figuring out what makes you happy, and pursuing it bravely, against all odds.

The Show On The Road – Dar Williams

Posted on by Chris Jacobs

This week, Z. Lupetin’s conversation with revered singing songstress and deeply wise wordsmith, Dar Williams.

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Coming out of the Hudson Valley outside New York City, Williams has released over thirteen albums across a quarter century as one of America’s touchstone folk poets, first bursting out of the famed Lilith Fair folk rock scene in the mid 1990s with contemporaries like Ani Difranco and the Indigo Girls and gaining a devoted following. She has toured with luminaries like Joan Baez and Patty Griffin, written a book about what makes communities resilient, she runs her own songwriting retreats, and has inspired generations of women to fearlessly embrace their creativity and exercise their limitless potential. Z. was able to catch up with Williams in the green room at the historic McCabe’s Guitar Shop before her second show of a sold out weekend in Los Angeles. A new album is on the way.

Six of the Best: Protest Songs

Posted on by Editor

It’s hard to pick my favorite protest songs. The Woody, the Dylan, the ’60s counterculture pop hits, the singularly chilling “Strange Fruit” — I love them all. The original “This Land Is Your Land” is an anarchist hymn, Dylan’s “Masters of War” is as scathing and righteous today as it was then, “Ohio” by CSNY was so poignant and cathartic in its time, and Billie Holiday laid bare the terrorism of whiteness, breaking the silence for a new generation to sing and speak their truth.

But I’ve opted to go toward the personal: the formative songs that revealed to me just how powerful songwriting could be in conveying a message. The ones that viscerally grabbed me, shook me and changed me; that still send a chill down my spine when they twist the knife. The songs that made me look up from the pages of my diary and want to write songs about the world and the way it could be.

In the past three years I have ramped up my commitment to learning to write this kind of song, and I have had plenty of inspiration. So much so that Front Country’s next record is almost entirely protest songs of one kind or another. Songs of meaning and truth and change. Here are six of the songs that made me the hopelessly idealistic and sanctimonious songwriter I am today. — Melody Walker, of the band Front Country.

“The Wagoner’s Lad” – Traditional

The old ballads are not known for being feminist anthems — far from it — but this one has to be my favorite. The first verse is one of the most honestly brutal accounts of what life was (and still is) like for women in most of the world living under Abrahamic religious rule: “Oh, hard is the fortune of all womankind / They’re always controlled, they’re always confined / Controlled by their parents until they are wives / Then slaves to their husbands the rest of their lives.” As well as the first known field recording sung by Buell Kazee, I recommend Joan Baez’s version because I love her interpretation of the lyrics, and my favorite modern version is by The Duhks. Interestingly, Doc Watson recorded it with a declawed first line “The heart is the fortune of all womankind,” as did several others after him, and I’d be ever so curious to know the story behind that change.

“Killing in the Name” – Rage Against the Machine

You know how parents in the latter half of the 20th century were convinced that music was radicalizing and warping the minds of their children? Well, I can safely say that Rage Against the Machine was my gateway drug into politics and protest, and I’ve never looked back. The raw angst and explosive energy drew me in, and the messages made me stay. Fox News themselves couldn’t write a more cliché tale of my descent into liberal madness: I went to my first RATM show at age 13 in Oakland, California, got a million pamphlets outside the show, read them all, and was immediately indoctrinated into progressive politics. Rare in the realm of protest music, this song, the performance, and the production still sound as fresh today as they did all the way back in 1991. This song was released in the wake of the Rodney King protests and it’s famous refrain sadly still rings true in America: “Some of those that work forces, are the same that burn crosses.”

“One Tin Soldier” – written by Dennis Lambert and Brian Potter

Cheesy as all get out, preachy as hell, but one of the most hard-hitting story songs with a pacifist moral out there. The one time I got to go to sleep-away summer camp at 10 years old, our cabin counselor would sing us to sleep with her favorite folk songs, and when she sang this one I was pretty sure it was the best songwriting I had ever heard in my life. What can I say? It never fails to turn me into a blubbering mess by the end. Truly great songs can stand up to any style or instrumentation, so take your pick of the original ’70s AM gold, punk rock, and pop reggae versions — or this legendary clip of the Bluegrass Alliance from the documentary Bluegrass Country Soul featuring baby Sam Bush and Tony Rice!

“Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee” – Buffy Sainte-Marie

I first heard this song on a live Indigo Girls album and it turned me on to Canadian-American First Nations singer-songwriter Buffy Sainte-Marie. Though she has had a long and successful career as a writer and performer since the early ’60s, including co-writing the inspirational “Up Where We Belong,” this song is from her ’90s comeback album and it pulls absolutely no punches in its accounting of ongoing terrorism against indigenous people in North America. One listen to this song is an invitation to learn more about the activists of the American Indian Movement and how corporations still collude with governments every day to displace and destroy native cultures around the world.

“My IQ” – Ani DiFranco

No one artist embodies the 3rd Wave Feminism of the 90s more than prolific and perpetually independent songwriter Ani DiFranco. Every song is a stream-of-consciousness integration of the personal and the political, redefining and queering the protest song in a polarizing performance style you either love or hate. She paved the way as a completely DIY artist with her own independent record label from the beginning, sending a message not just through her music, but also her entire business model. Each song is a subversive blend of breakup song, political manifesto, slam poetry piece and almost jazz-like playful vocal exploration, unwilling to be pinned-down as a singular statement. I finally settled on one that ends with my favorite of her famous zingers: “Every tool is a weapon… if you hold it right.” I love this well-worn, reimagined live version from 2002.

“If I Had A Hammer” – Pete Seeger & Lee Hays

Speaking of tools, it’s easy to see why this menacingly titled early hit of the “folk scare” put the fear of revolution in the hearts of the powerful. While it was debuted in 1949 by writers Pete Seeger and Lee Hays at a meeting of the Communist party, it became as mainstream as apple pie by the time Peter, Paul & Mary had a hit with it in 1962. Perhaps considered a children’s song today, it has a subversively empowering message in its simplicity. The night Trump got elected, Front Country had just flown to Seattle to start a tour, and there was a palpable sense of grief in the air at those West Coast shows. We closed every show of that run acoustic, on the floor, with a singalong of this song. It seemed to provide a much needed collective catharsis for ourselves and our fans. When one feels helpless, this song reminds the singer that we each have our own unique tools to bring to the work of dismantling systems of oppression and creating the world we want to see. There are a mind-bending number of recording of this song, so here are a few lovely ones.

Photo of Ani DiFranco: GMDThree

Kacey Musgraves is Country’s Queer Icon, but These Roots Artists are Actually Queer

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Kacey Musgraves’ dominance during Sunday’s 61st Annual Grammy Awards has certainly solidified her place as country music’s newest queer icon. She offered simply stunning, near-perfect performances during the primetime broadcast and took home four trophies: Best Country Solo Performance, Best Country Song, Best Country Album, and one of the most prestigious awards of the night, Album of the Year. So-called “Gay Twitter” devolved into a tizzy as the show unfolded through the afternoon and evening with Musgraves decidedly at the top.

Said Album of the Year, Golden Hour, saw a critical mass of LGBTQ+ fans embracing Musgraves’ music, but her relationship to the broader gay community has been percolating since her debut album, especially given its overt “Follow Your Arrow” message. All combined, her eye for gratuitous-yet-effortless glamour, her acid-steeped, anime-meets-California-meets-trailer park aesthetics, and her singular, pop-influenced countrypolitan sounds are gay country manna from heaven. And it’s not just in the music. This year, she made an appearance as a guest judge on VH1’s RuPaul’s Drag Race All Stars and she routinely advocates for LGBTQ+ fans and their causes on her social media feeds.

To be sure, Musgraves fits the diva-idolized-by-gays criteria impeccably, but there’s a certain passive erasure that can occur when fans consciously or subconsciously become myopic in their praise of and infatuation with straight, cisgendered, female artists. It’s true that Musgraves has played an important role in expanding country music’s borders — musically, socially, and otherwise — but at the same time a burgeoning community of LGBTQ+ writers, artists, musicians, and creators are carving out their own space within country, Americana, folk, and even bluegrass and old-time.

This writer would never go so far as to suggest that one ought not squeal with delight at Musgraves’ fierce-as-fuck costumes, her tear-jerking solo performance of “Rainbow,” or her impossibly long and flowy Cher-callback, bump-it wig. Rather, if you love Kacey Musgraves and Golden Hour — because queer identities can be seen and reflected within her work, because she opens the door to the idea that country isn’t a forbidding place for these identities, and/or because she’s unabashed and unapologetic in her pursuit of these goals — you’re going to love these eleven badass, talented, inspirational, openly queer roots musicians, too.

Time to get stanning:

Brandi Carlile

After last night’s show this name should no longer need mentioning or introduction, as Carlile and her twin collaborators, Tim and Phil Hanseroth, absolutely brought down the Staples Center with one of the most moving performances of the night, the soaring, galvanizing, overtly queer, and now Grammy-winning masterpiece, “The Joke.” Carlile is openly gay, married, a mother of two daughters, and a tireless voice for representation and progress in Americana and its offshoot genres. If “The Joke” resonates with you (i.e. if it makes you sob uncontrollably, as it does this writer), check out “That Wasn’t Me,” “Hurricane,” and, of course, “The Story.”

Mary Gauthier

Gauthier’s latest, Rifles & Rosary Beads, was nominated for Best Folk Album this year and though it didn’t take home the prize, the album has received universal acclaim for its message of hope, empathy, and visibility for members of our armed services and the struggles they face during and after their service. Gauthier collaborated with veterans of the military in writing all of the record’s heart wrenching, honest, raw songs — which might seem counterintuitive given gays’ historically tenuous relationship with the military writ large. But Gauthier’s own life story, and the trials she’s faced, make her the perfect writer to prioritize empathy above all else in these songs.

Don’t sleep on the rest of her discography, though. The simple profundity of her writing is consistently awe-inspiring. Check out “Mercy Now” after you’ve given Rifles & Rosary Beads a listen.

Karen & the Sorrows

Jewish New York City native Karen Pittelman may seem like an unlikely frontwoman of a country band, especially when you factor in her past punk and queercore experiences, but it turns out she grew up bathed in the country compilation albums her father produced and sold for a living. Her voice recalls country mavens of bygone eras — it’s delicate yet powerful, with a pin-up girl quality that’s as subversive as it is natural. Also check out “Take Me for a Ride,” a Pittelman original that plays like a trad-country, queer version of Sam Hunt’s smash hit, “Body Like a Back Road,” but without the cheese.

Little Bandit

All of the hollerin’, barn-burning, hell-raising country soul of your favorite outlaw country rockers, but with lacy gay edges, Little Bandit (AKA Alex Caress, et. al.) is as honky-tonk as it gets. It’s a beautiful balancing act, presenting as an impossibly big-voiced, piano-smashing, charismatic frontman while singing male pronouns without hesitation. He leans into a beautifully paradoxical queerness that equally embraces diamonds, Waffle House allusions, platform shoes, and plain ol drinkin’. If you like it — and you will — check out “Diamonds,” too.

Sarah Shook & the Disarmers

Outspoken outlaws in a crop of alt-country artists who align with that eponymous country movement of the 70s, Sarah Shook & the Disarmers are a road-dogging band that would seemingly fit that mold, excepting Shook’s deliberate efforts to challenge the inherent heteronormativity of country music at every turn. For Shook it’s not necessarily about having a political message, as she put it in a 2018 interview with BGS, “I feel like doing what I’m doing — touring relentlessly, putting out records, and being unapologetically myself — is a very powerful and political maneuver as well… I’ve never been concerned about that because I feel it’s important to be honest and forthright as a human being, and as an artist and certainly lyrically as well.”

Indigo Girls

Both Amy Ray and Emily Saliers — the two halves that make up the absolutely iconic Indigo Girls — have released solo albums in the past year, both of which draw heavily on folk, Americana, and country influences. This should be no surprise to even the most casual IG fans. Banjos, mandolins, ukuleles, and so many other hallmarks of roots music have been integral to the Indigo Girls’ sound all along. But the songwriting, devastating and personal and oh so very real, is the real takeaway from both projects.

kd lang

This list might as well not exist if it excluded kd lang. Before her crossover to more mainstream genre designations, kd pretty much originated the role of badass queer making unimpeachably trad country music that refused to shy away from its queer touchpoints. Just take a look at this video! “Honky Tonk Angels,” sung with Loretta Lynn, Brenda Lee, Kitty Wells, and finally, kd in all of her butch, gender-bending, binary-eschewing glory — complete with a Minnie Pearl cameo! Country has always been (more than) a little queer, y’all.

Lavender Country

A man well, well ahead of his time, Patrick Haggerty (AKA Lavender Country), released his debut, self-titled album in 1973. It was a groundbreaking work, but the world, let alone the country music community and its commercial machine, were not ready for it. A Seattle DJ was fired for playing “Cryin’ These Cocksucking Tears” on the airwaves, only one thousand copies of the album were printed, and the band was relegated to performing exclusively at LGBTQ+ events and programs. But, despite being largely shut out of the industry, Haggerty and Lavender Country never ceased. In 2018, at the age of 74, Haggerty took part in AmericanaFest’s very first queer-focused showcase.

Amythyst Kiah

Amythyst Kiah’s booming, captivating voice, and her haunting, Southern gothic approach to Americana, bluegrass, and old-time set her apart from almost anyone else on the scene at this moment. Her reimagination of Dolly Parton’s magnum opus, “Jolene,” is a perfect example of how she carefully turns tradition on its ear. Based in East Tennessee herself, she draws on the rich musical heritage of the region, adding her own spin, creating space to allow herself to soar. And there’s plenty more soaring in her future, as she has opened shows for artists such as Rhiannon Giddens and Indigo Girls across the country and in Europe, and her collaboration album with Giddens, Allison Russell (Birds of Chicago), and Leyla McCalla, Songs of Our Native Daughters, is set to drop February 22.

Alynda Segarra

Singer/songwriter, activist, and Hurray for the Riff Raff frontwoman Alynda Segarra entrances with The Navigator, a concept project that focuses on the life and times of a fictitious Puerto Rican youth living in New York City. Themes of immigration, identity politics, displacement, disenfranchisement, and capitalistic overreach are threaded throughout the album, which offers its songs as tableaus of this girl’s — Navita’s — reality. It’s a stunning reminder that the intricacies and nuances that define us, and by doing so, separate us, are not so difficult for us to overcome with empathy and understanding. “Pa’lante!” (which translates to “forward!”) is the album’s battle cry, a song that turns utter despondency, grief, and a sore lack of humanity into a glimmer of hope.

Trixie Mattel

While almost all other drag queens who delve into the music scene release dance tracks, rap albums, or similar club-ready jams, Trixie Mattel (AKA Brian Firkus) draws upon her rural Wisconsin roots on two folk-adjacent, country-ish albums, Two Birds and One Stone. (Get it?) This isn’t just an opportunist attempt to punch up Trixie’s Dolly Parton-esque, country barbie aesthetic, she’s really got the chops. Not only is she a talented humorous-while-poignant songwriter, her technical skills on guitar and autoharp (yes, autoharp) are precisely honed to showcase her original music. This is no gimmick — though the Doves in Flight Gibson guitar and the custom, pink d’Aigle autoharp are jaw-droppingly perfect additions to Trixie’s lookbook.

 

Curiosity and Persistence: Amy Ray Gets Down to Her Roots on ‘Holler’

Posted on by Editor

Amy Ray’s new project, Holler, is the closest thing she’s made to a classic country album in a career that stretches across nearly 30 years. As one-half of the Indigo Girls, she’s won a folk Grammy and toured the world, sharing her musical path with Emily Saliers. But on Holler, Ray retreated to Asheville, North Carolina, with a hand-picked band of musicians who knew how to play country music – and she was eager to record the new music to tape using the studio’s vintage machines.

“For this band in particular, there is a real kind of magic quality to knowing that you can’t go back and change a lot of things,” she says. “So it keeps you on your toes the whole time. You have to be well-rehearsed. And at the same time, you just want to go for it.”

Taking a break from signing vinyl copies of Holler a few days before its release, Ray chatted with the Bluegrass Situation about finding happiness on a clawhammer banjo, discovering a commonality with Connie Britton’s character, Rayna Jaymes on ABC/CMT’s Nashville, and staying curious about the world.

How much did you rehearse this new material before going into the studio?

This unit has been playing together for about almost five years, so that’s like been our rehearsal — just touring. For these songs in particular, we did have some rehearsals, but most of the stuff we had rehearsed or worked on arrangements at my house. Or we would have a gig, like we opened for Tedeschi Trucks here and there, and I would use that as an opportunity to practice the day before. We would get together at the hotel and go to the conference room and work on songs – like at the Microtel or whatever – and do arrangements. It bought us a lot of time.

So the band knew the songs well in advance.

Yep, except for “Dadgum Down,” which was a wildcard, which no one knew. We didn’t even know if we were going to do it. I kept saying, “I have this song I wrote on banjo, but I don’t know what I’m going to do with it,” like a broken record over and over and over again. Jeff Fielder, the guitar player, and Alison Brown, who guested on banjo on the track – those two really came up with what became the arrangement for the song. It turned out to be a really fun experience because I put my banjo down and said, “I’m just going to sing.” But everything else, we had really worked on it and spent a lot of time fine-tuning the arrangements.

So the reference in that song about the sting of the bee — is that a reference to drugs?

It’s everything. The stinging [lyric] was another song I was working on, and I was like, “Oh, these are actually about the same thing.” Which is addiction, and relationships. So it’s like, it’s in the nature of the bee to sting. And it’s in the nature of love, and it’s in the nature of drugs. You can’t get mad at that item, because that’s part of their nature, and it’s also what you’re hungry for.

So it’s meant to be more than one dimension because the song is about wrestling with addiction — addiction to a person, and addiction to drugs, and addiction to anything. I’m always fascinated by that because I have an addictive personality, but also I have a lot of friends in recovery. And I don’t drink anymore, so I know how it is to try and beat that.

I want to ask about your musicianship. How did you get interested in the guitar?

It was just a vehicle to sing with probably. I mean, that’s probably why I’m not a better guitar player, too, because I looked at it as, “I want to write songs, and I want to sing, so I gotta learn how to play something.” I was playing piano, but not very successfully. I was in fifth grade and I got a guitar and took lessons at the Y. I learned like five chords and I could play all the Neil Young songs. So I was like, “This is perfect.”

What was the path to learning the other stringed instruments?

Well, mandolin, I just learned. It was like a natural thing for me, I guess. I was interested. I think I learned it because…. I’m trying to remember why I picked up a mandolin. I think I borrowed somebody’s flatiron mandolin and I liked it a lot. I thought this was cool, these chords. And I never really learned how to play properly, which I really want to do one day. But I was learning more from mountain music, like field recording kind of stuff. So I didn’t really learn the bluegrass style, or any of that. And then banjo is just something to knock around on, I don’t really know how to play.

Yeah, but it makes you happy right?

It makes me happy! It doesn’t matter. I try to play clawhammer and it makes me happy. [Laughs]

I’ve followed your career since that first Indigo Girls record, and you always seem to be doing something new and having something coming up. Where did that work ethic from?

Probably my parents, my family, just the way I was raised — workaholic.

Yeah, but you’ve never really rested on your laurels or waited around for it.

I get bored with laurels, and there’s not enough of them to rest on, either. I like the process as much as the prize. I mean, seriously. So for me it’s like I get bored and I really do want to become better at what I do. I think the only way to do that is to keep doing it. And for Emily and I, persistence was our friend forever. I mean, if we hadn’t worked hard and been persistent, and then had a lot of luck, we wouldn’t have made it.

That reminds me of “Tonight I’m Paying the Rent,” which is about putting in the time. Some gigs are not necessarily feeding your spirituality, but you’re still working, doing what you love. What’s the reward for what you’re telling me about – where you’re working, and traveling, and staying busy?

I don’t know, I’m just proud of it. Because when I do a solo tour and get to the end of it, and been able to play all the gigs, and drive all the miles and everything, I feel proud of it. I don’t know why. The process is fun, and I like the people I’m with. I’m just compelled. I think we are compelled by something, and it probably is fear of mortality and all of those deep things too. But it’s also like, well, it beats us sitting around. And it’s fun to try to do something that’s hard to do, and then be able to do it. It feels good.

Is it a calling for you, do you think, to be up there singing?

Who knows? I mean, I have no idea. It’s all I know, though. It’s all I know how to do. So I don’t know if it’s a calling or like a compulsion. I mean, “Tonight I’m Paying the Rent” really also grew out of needing an attitude check. Emily and I were playing a few of these private party kind of things, and I had such a negative attitude about it because they’re soul-sucking. And you’re just doing it for the money, and we stopped doing them because of that.

But then at the same time, I was watching an episode of Nashville where Rayna has to play a private party for a venture capitalist in California. And of course, the guy that hired her is a big fan, but no one else likes her, or likes country. And she’s out there, and she’s smiling, and no one’s listening. And I was like, I’ve totally been there a million times. Then her attitude about it after the show was like, “We all have bills to pay,” or whatever she says.

And that’s the attitude I have. Like, “Tonight I’m paying the rent.” That’s what that song grew out of. It’s like, “Why be so negative about this thing?” Yeah, maybe it’s not fun, but it beats digging a ditch. And look – you’re actually paying bills. That’s hard to do.

To me, “Didn’t Know a Damn Thing” is about history that you haven’t been taught, that you discover it on your own by seeking it out. Where does your own sense of curiosity come from?

I think that’s probably from my family and growing up with role models that were curious. Even my dad, who was super conservative, was also curious about everything. Even though we disagreed about a lot of things, one thing I know about him is that he was curious, and he would always listen to the other side. All the best teachers I ever had in high school and my favorite youth minister at church were curious and they didn’t mind it when I questioned things either.

And I don’t know why I always felt like I needed to question things. … I think part of that was paranoia. It was like the flip side of curiosity, which is paranoia. And I was like, this can’t be all there is, there’s got to be something else going on. It doesn’t feel right. And when you start feeling those feelings, you know you’ve got to look into it.

Photo credit (color): Carrie Schrader
Photo credit (black-and-white): Ian Fisher