Drew Kennedy’s “Head Out West” Playlist

I’ve been enamored by the West since I first set a dusty boot down in Marathon, Texas – a town that would be my spiritual hometown, if such things existed.

I made my last record, Marathon, with my incredibly talented friend Davis Naish in a tiny adobe house in that little town. For the new record, we camped out in his Los Angeles studio, so I figured, “Hey, let me put together a playlist that I think captures the way I feel about the vast stretch of land that lies between Marathon and LA.” Road trip! – Drew Kennedy

“Desperados Waiting For A Train” – Guy Clark

Guy was born in Monahans, Texas, not too far from Marathon, so this feels like a natural starting point. To me, there are few artists who are able to capture the spirit of Far West Texas like Guy Clark. With equal parts romance, unflinching honesty, and those trademark turns of phrase that make him a hero to songwriters who know, Guy can always make me feel like I’m standing beside him in the little movies that are his songs.

“Levelland” – James McMurtry

If you trekked due north and just a little east out of Monahans, eventually those sand hills and mesas play out into plains so flat and wide open it can make the uninitiated feel uncomfortable. A friend once told me a buddy of his said he didn’t like it because “there was no place to hide.” From what or whom didn’t matter. You’re just out there, totally exposed–the only thing breaking the perfect line between land and sky. Those McMurtrys sure know how to tell a good story. Anyway, if we kept going north we’d be getting farther away from California, so let’s hang a left.

“Watch It Shine” – Walt Wilkins

Walt Wilkins is another songwriting hero and I’m lucky to call him a friend, as well. The Poet Laureate of the Hill Country teams up with Owen Temple to take you on a ride following the Rio Grande as it snakes south from Taos towards Santa Fe. It also features one of my favorite lines I’ve ever heard in a song: “They say there’s iron in these mountains, and in bone and skin and mud/ They say that iron only comes from stars, so stars are in my blood.” Goosebumps every time.

“Low Sun” – Hermanos Gutiérrez

Put a ranch water in my hand, fire up this album, and cue a good sunset. The only three ingredients I need to find my favorite places inside my mind no matter where on earth I am. Doubly effective if I’m already in one of my favorite places.

“Don’t Worry” – Marty Robbins (single, 1961)

We’re getting out into the type of landscape most people who’ve never visited the desert picture in their heads when someone mentions it. Saguaros, red rocks. We’re well beyond El Paso now, so we’ll go with this beauty from Marty Robbins. Yes, that is the coolest guitar solo of all time. I’ve heard several different stories about how they got that sound, but however they came by that tone, hell yeah.

“Willin'” – Little Feat

We’ve covered a lot of ground… maybe we’re dragging a little bit after all of those miles. The boys in Little Feat know how we feel, and they’ve got our back.

“Queen of California” – John Mayer

Now that we’re pulling into town we need something we can nod along to with our Wayfarers on and our hair blowing in the sweet California breeze, as we take in the sights. This song is a badass way to kick off a record, too.

“Beautiful World” – Colin Hay

I mean, when we get there one of the first things we’re gonna do is jump into the Pacific, right? I love that Colin Hay sounds like Colin Hay and nobody else and man, do I love the way he writes a song.

“It Never Rains In Southern California” – Trent Summar & The New Row Mob

I love their version of this song. It’s not all sunshine and roses out there, you know.

“California Poppy” – Theo Lawrence

I was shocked when I found out this guy was from France. Sometimes people in Texas are shocked when they find out I’m from Pennsylvania. Point is, if it’s in you, it’s in you. I would believe it if you told me the ghosts of Buck Owens and Don Rich were sprinkling a little of that Bakersfield dust around the studio the day they laid this one down.

“Mama Told Me Not To Come” – Randy Newman

I’ve aged out of today’s version of this kind of party, but that doesn’t mean I don’t expect to see some unexpected things whenever I’m out in LA. Another one-of-one, Randy Newman.

“Texas Time” – Explorer Tapes

And with that, let’s turn this big baby blue Cadillac convertible around and head back home. I assume that’s the kind of ride we’d want for this road trip. Thanks for tagging along.


Photo Credit: Sarah Barlow

MIXTAPE: Thomas Cassell’s Songs to Pass the Time

2024 is winding down and like any other year, there’s a lot to say goodbye to as we welcome in the future. Memories (the good and bad), loved ones, homes – all seem to eventually become markers in time.

A marker in my ‘24 was the release of my third record, The Never-Ending Years, in October. The theme of time is common throughout (as the title would suggest), and when BGS asked me to put together a playlist in celebration, I considered the many topical songs that have had an impact on me.

There may be some obvious players left out (sorry, Pink Floyd and Jim Croce) but really, these are simply the songs that have meant the most to me, songs I listen to in eternal recurrence, all having something to do with the fact that time moves on – with or without our blessing. – Thomas Cassell

“Where Did the Morning Go?” – Blue Highway

Blue Highway has had an incredible impact on everything I do. They really set a bar with thoughtful, original material in bluegrass music. This song in particular pulls a heartstring, as the every-quickening pace of life only blurs with time.

“Childish Things” – James McMurtry

There’s an innocence that we lose every day and much of our wonder and curiosity tends to disappear with it. But for me, the contentment of looking back brings calmness and comfort for the future. James McMurtry is on my Mount Rushmore of songwriters and this song (I think) is as good as anything he’s ever written.

“Mama’s Hand” – Lynn Morris (written by Hazel Dickens)

Leaving home is tough, as most anyone knows. Inevitable as it is, it can be hard to say goodbye, no matter the opportunity that awaits. Lynn’s music has brought me a lot of comfort in this life.

“Today” – John Hartford

John Hartford’s songwriting certainly doesn’t need my endorsement, but I think his early records are often overlooked. This song was released in 1967, Hartford’s LA era that gave us “Gentle On My Mind,” “No End of Love,” and so many others. There ain’t nothing but today.

“Last Time on the Road” – Nashville Bluegrass Band (written by Carl Jones)

This song found me at the right time. I was getting burnt out from touring and music in general had become a daily commitment that brought little joy. It was nice to know that others felt the same, but also that they were capable of salvaging the good and moving forward making great music – in the NBB’s case, four more great records.

“Needed” – Robbie Fulks

Robbie Fulks has been a favorite for a long time, partly for his unpredictable performance style – check out Revenge! (Live) – but also for his thoughtful lyricism and vulnerable storytelling. This song highlights the latter, and all the reflection and regret that comes with getting older.

“Blackberry Summer” – Dale Ann Bradley

Is it possible to be nostalgic for a childhood you didn’t have? I think so – at least that’s how I feel when I listen to this song. Dale Ann takes me back to all of my childhood summers, as similar or different as they may be.

“Nail” – Ed Snodderly

Ed is a songwriter’s songwriter, and one of the coolest musicians I know. His group The Brother Boys is an all time favorite, but this song from his 2017 solo record really fits the current theme. The nothin’ here leaves no more.

“Don’t You Know I’m From Here” – Brennen Leigh

Prairie Love Letter is one of those records that I downloaded before a flight and then proceeded to listen to three or four times through before landing (still do sometimes). The writing is incredible front to back, but the opening track really hit me hard. I’m from a very small town and every time I go home, I find I have less of a connection to the place – only a growing longing for one. This song of Brennen’s couldn’t articulate that feeling any better.

“Bed by the Window” – James King (written by Marnie Wilson and Rob Crosby)

The Bluegrass Storyteller. I’m not sure there’s a song that earned James King that title more than this one does. Here’s your reminder to go and visit the elderly in your life, wherever they may be.

“The Randall Knife” – Guy Clark

I couldn’t finish this playlist without including Guy Clark’s magnum opus. There’s a lot I could say about this song, but none of it as well as him.

“Autumn Leaves Don’t Fall” – Thomas Cassell

And if you’ve made it all the way to the end, I’ll reward you with a little bit of self-promotion. Jon Weisberger and I wrote this song after thinking about how the more people we lose, the quicker we seem to lose them. Time is exponential.


Photo Credit: Scott Simontacchi

BGS 5+5: Jaimee Harris

Artist: Jaimee Harris
Hometown: Hewitt, Texas
Latest Album: Boomerang Town (out February 17, 2023)

Which artist has influenced you the most … and how?

Emmylou Harris. I got my first guitar on Christmas Day. That holiday season, every moment I wasn’t at school or at church I was sitting by the stereo putting “Light of the Stable” on repeat. I was mesmerized by Emmylou’s voice, the production, the melody, and the harmonies. I learned later in life the backing vocals are Dolly Parton, Neil Young, and Linda Ronstadt. Not only have I been tremendously influenced by Emmylou’s voice as a lead singer and a harmony singer, but also by the songs she cut. They opened me up to songwriters who laid out the road map of my own songwriting journey.

What has been the best advice you’ve received in your career so far?

It’s a tie for these two golden bits of wisdom that have been passed down to me by my partner, Mary Gauthier, who is much farther along in her career than I am.

1. Do not sign anything unless they’re writing you a check.
2. Don’t take the Ambien until the plane takes off. (I think this one came from Ralph Murphy)

What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?

The most powerful experience I’ve had sharing my music wasn’t on stage. It was sharing my songs in a circle at an incredible place in Tulsa called Women in Recovery. WIR is an alternative to prison for women facing convictions for non-violent crimes related to substance abuse. Oklahoma incarcerates more women per capita than any state in the country and this place is trying change that brutal statistic by offering twelve step recovery meetings, educational resources, therapeutic resources, and housing solutions. I had no idea that a song I wrote in early sobriety, “Snow White Knuckles,” would go out into the world and be of service in such a powerful way. It’s opened doors for me to play in prisons and recovery centers all over the world. That song has a power so far beyond me. I’m deeply grateful to continue to have the opportunity to share it and follow it into spaces where it can be of service.

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

I’m a huge fan of Michael Fracasso. In addition to being a tremendously gifted songwriter, Fracasso is a fabulous chef. I’ve been extremely fortunate to receive a return invitation to a holiday party in Austin where tons of great songwriters (like my friend Darden Smith) and musicians (David Pulkingham is always a highlight for me) come together to swap songs campfire-style. Michael always puts together a beautiful meal for everyone and sings with us. It’s extraordinary.

How often do you hide behind a character in a song or use “you” when it’s actually “me”?

After being a songwriter for 13 years, I went to my very first songwriting workshop in 2017. I couldn’t possibly recommend it more. I wish I’d done it sooner! It helped me to consciously access methods I’d previously been using subconsciously and taught me a lot about where to laser beam my focus in the editing/rewriting process. I co-teach with my partner, Mary Gauthier, often now. This topic comes up often. When we’re working with a student’s song, Gauthier points out that when a listener hears “I” in a song, they’re not thinking about the voice delivering the song. They’re thinking about themselves. I believe this is one of the most powerful tools of songwriting – singing “I,” brings the listener into the experience of the narrator, which creates an opening for empathy to glide through.


Photo Credit: Brandon Aguilar

BGS 5+5: Isaac Hoskins

Artist: Isaac Hoskins
Latest Album: Bender
Hometown: I spent the majority of my formative years in Wellington, Kansas. A small wheat-farming town between Wichita and the Oklahoma state line. I’ve lived in Denton, Texas, for 19 years and I definitely call it home now but Wellington still has a great deal to do with the way I see the world.

Personal nicknames: When I was a kid there was another boy who lived down the street who, for some reason, couldn’t pronounce my name instead called me Izeke (eye-zeek). My mother started calling me Zeke and it stuck. To this day, a lot of people in Kansas call me Zeke.

Which artist has influenced you the most … and how?

Oh, man! There are so many. I’d imagine that Steve Earle is probably the biggest influence that I’ve had as a songwriter and performer. Obviously, Steve’s music was and continues to be a massive influence but most any other artist that I became a fan of early on was because they were in and around his orbit. The internet was still a pretty new thing, so discovering music that wasn’t on the Top 40 chart was pretty difficult without some sort of road map. Guy Clark, Townes Van Zandt, Rodney Crowell, Jerry Jeff Walker, all of the usual suspects came to me after reading Steve’s biography (Hardcore Troubadour). Steve Earle was my gateway drug.

What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?

When I was in junior college I was in a choir that was invited to sing a piece of music entitled The Testament of Freedom at Carnegie Hall. The piece was composed by a man named Randall Thompson and inspired by writings of Thomas Jefferson. It was the spring after the 9/11 attacks and the entire experience was incredibly moving. Both the subject matter and setting were something I’ll never forget. I’m told that Kevin Bacon was there so perhaps I’m one degree closer than most.

What was the first moment that you knew you wanted to be a musician?

I knew that I wanted to be a musician from a very early age, but given my surroundings I never felt like it was something that was attainable. I attended a music festival in Helotes, Texas, called Jack Ingram’s Real American Music Festival and that was the day that I knew for sure, that was the day that I felt like it was something that I could do. I was watching all of these incredible performers that, up to that point, I had never even heard of. The Bottle Rockets, James McMurtry, Hayes Carll and so many other people were proving to me that you don’t have to be Garth Brooks to make a life in music and I was immediately obsessed.

What has been the best advice you’ve received in your career so far?

I had the opportunity to talk to Don Schlitz once. He told me, “Write the song you want to hear and you’ll be surprised who wants to hear it too.” I think of that often, so concise, so true. Thanks, Don.

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

I’m a duck hunter, and more often than not, I hunt alone on public land. Hunting on public land means that you’ve got to get there earlier than anyone else if you want to be sure that you have your spot. Most days I’ll begin my walk to the lake at four o’clock which means I’ve got somewhere in the neighborhood of three hours to hike in, find my spot, put my decoys out and get a decent hide before shooting time (30 minutes before sunrise). That time before and during sunrise is my favorite. I use it to think about the people, places and things that matter to me and might also matter to someone else. Watching the day come alive is a spiritual moment for me, every time. Living in the business of making noise, it’s nice to soak up a little silence.


Photo Credit: Peter Salisbury

MIXTAPE: Korby Lenker’s Joyful Contrarians

To me, the idea of the joyful contrarian is synonymous with being an artist. Joyful because on some level the creative person’s pursuit is to get high and stay high, to chase the spark that sets your soul on fire; contrarian because artists go their own way. The artist’s work may reinforce or defy social norms but either way the connection is coincidental.

These are a few of the songs, artists, and contrarians who have inspired me. — Korby Lenker

Doc Watson – “Country Blues”

Doc is a reliable tastemaker of enduring songs, but his interpretation of the Dock Boggs classic stands apart. Something uncharacteristically sour in it. Watson usually moves through happier vistas — as in say “Ramblin’ Hobo” or “Froggie Went A-Courtin’.” But here his rueful tenor slaps against a clawhammer banjo and the mood is plaintive, down spirited, and harrowing as shallow grave.

Sierra Ferrell – “Bells of Every Chapel”

In love with this Appalachian Queen of modern yesteryear. She can belt, growl and chuckle inside the same song and still leave you with a lump in your throat. Plus that strong bent of humor and just plain orneriness. Is that a word? Sierra is funny and she’s been doing it her own way since she started. Joyful contrarian incarnate.

Nina Simone – “I Wish I Knew How It Would Feel to Be Free”

I could have chosen a dozen Nina Simone songs. The playfully saccharine “Sugar in My Bowl” might have been a good choice, but there’s a performance from when she was older, well into her activist chapter, where she plays this version of “I Wish I Knew How It Would Feel to Be Free” live at the Montreaux Jazz Festival. It was 1976. The musicianship is effortless, playful even as she sings that lyric of doleful, unfulfilled desire. But the real magic is toward the end. It’s as close as you’ll ever get to watching someone’s spirit wrestle with angels and demons inside. Electrifying.

Bill Miller – “Ghostdance”

I got to know Bill Miller over the last few years, I guess during the pandemic. He sang and played Native American flute on one of my songs. A soft spoken humble man with three Grammys and a life of music behind and in front of him, he is absolutely himself wherever he goes. I’ve watched him bring a room full of Nashville cool kids to tears with his singing. For this studio version of “Ghostdance,” he bussed several members of his tribe down from Wisconsin to a Music Row recording studio. He told me the engineer didn’t know how to mic a tribal drum encircled with elders. It got a little wild. I’m trying to think of a way to put Bill’s relationship with music. Blind to judgment, it’s something like that.

Jerry Garcia and David Grisman – “Teddy Bear Picnic”

Picked this one because it’s an outlier in an outlier’s repertoire. Jerry Garcia did not give a shit who sang what or why. For him a song was good or it wasn’t. “Teddy Bear’s Picnic” from Not for Kids Only is a children’s tune written and originally performed by Henry Hall over a hundred years ago. It’s uplifting and a little sinister at the same time. Plus the chords are magic. I play it sometimes in my own shows.

Robert Ellis – “California”

Writing these blurb things, I notice that most of the artists I’m drawn to are accomplished musicians as well as being great songwriters. Robert Ellis is among the best. He’s like, maybe too good for his own good. At home on piano or guitar, he can reference more musicians and songs than you, and he does this thing I really like with his albums where every song is a moment, its own little movie. This one, “California,” is a slow-motion explosion from the years in his life before he calmed down a little.

Adam Hurt – “Flannery’s Dream”

This was my most listened to album of 2019. Ten tracks of solo gourd banjo, interpreted by a introverted master of the niche. I spend a lot of time with instrumental music. Wordless emotions hit different. I defy you to find anything in the string music lexicon as inventive and emotive as Hurt’s solo music. It’s banjo as high art. Especially this album, Earth Tones.

Anaïs Mitchell – “Brooklyn Bridge”

More widely known as the creator of 2019’s Tony Award-winning musical Hadestown, Anaïs Mitchell has been making the most inventive music in folk for two decades. Her album Young Man In America is my favorite record of the last ten years. I chose this track from her 2022 eponymous release because it’s a perfect example of deep sentiment couched in well-turned phrases matched with one of the more unique singing voices in the business.

Lou Reed – “Perfect Day”

Lou Reed, helming The Velvet Underground in the ’60s, was really the first artist to make music devoid of or without regard to commercial appeal. The original contrarian of art house rock, his songs explored heroin addiction, transgenderism, art for its own sake, and love. During his solo career, collaborations with Andy Warhol and composer John Cage cemented his status as a dissonant God of the avant-garde. “Perfect Day” is from his later catalogue. Sweet and small and sad. You probably know it from the movie Trainspotting.

Randy Newman – “Marie”

Randy Newman is an artist of intimidating powers. Another master musician and songwriter and curmudgeonly iconoclast. Watch his Tiny Desk Concert and see what happens to you. Setting aside his singular piano style with its striding left hand and those constantly tumbling suspensions, the songwriting is pure emotion when he wants it to be, derisive if the mood strikes him, or, in the case of “You’ve Got a Friend in Me” (which he penned), the soundtrack of your childhood. “Marie” is my favorite song of his. Listen to the solo piano version on The Randy Newman Songbook Vol. 1.

Jimmie Rodgers – “Blue Yodel No. 9”

Hard to find a contrarian with more joy than the Singin’ Brakeman, who died from tuberculosis at the height of his fame at the age of 35. I would describe “Blue Yodel No. 9” as charmingly incorrigible. Something that might’ve made a decent Depression-era mother cover her children’s ears. Little known fact: his longtime songwriting partner, who cowrote more than 40 of his songs, was his sister-in-law, Elsie McWilliams.

James McMurtry – “Long Island Sound”

Joyful contrarian or talented asshole? Both probably. I maybe should have selected his paean to North Texas methamphetamine culture, “Choctaw Bingo,” as the most contrarian, but I picked this one, the last track from his fantastic 2016 record, Complicated Game. I like this one best because it’s about making peace with where you’re at in life, maybe even celebrating the spot where you land: “These are the best days / These are the best days / Boys put your money away / I got the round / Here’s to all you strangers / the Mets and the Rangers / Long may we thrive on the Long Island Sound.”


Photo Credit: Ali Alsaleh

MIXTAPE: David Newbould’s Songs for Sinking In / Digging Out

I found myself digging into my comfort music throughout ’20-’21. It felt like a hard time to be adventurous. These songs are from so many records I’ve spent so music time with, and which surely informed my new album, Power Up! (out June 10). It also features a few of the great folks we lost during this period. — David Newbould

Thin Lizzy – “Try a Little Harder”

I probably listened to more Thin Lizzy over the last two years than I did to any other artist. They have so many songs I wish I could just crawl up inside of and never come out. This song is at the top of the list. Phil Lynott just had everything to me. He wrote the life he lived. He somehow enhanced it but never sugarcoated it, and in the end it was all too real. This song feels like it could be one of the defining songs of the 1970s but it was an unreleased B-side. “When all those dark days came rolling in I didn’t know whether to stop or begin / To try a little harder…”

Joe Strummer & The Mescaleros – “Get Down Moses”

I love the rawness of this track, the gang vocals, the reggae telecaster, and the way Joe always sang with the passion of a thousand rock ‘n’ roll ambassadors rolled into one electric folksinger body. I wrote a song years ago called “One Track Heart,” based on a line I heard Pete Townsend say. Supposedly when he heard Joe Strummer died (of a heart defect), he said, “Well that makes sense, his heart was always too big.” I’ve come back to this excellent posthumous album over and over throughout the years, starting with this track. It always fills my heart and makes me miss him.

Gregg Allman – “These Days”

Gregg Allman’s voice will always be comfort food to me. I remember putting this on during one of the first days of lockdown setting in and feeling, “Somewhere, sometime, a different world existed, and maybe if I just keep listening to the music from it, it will exist once again.” I’m not sure about the second part yet, but it sure felt good listening to songs like this over and over again. A perfect version of an already perfect Jackson Browne song.

Bob Dylan – “Pressing On”

I’m not a religious person, but the performance of this song is powerful enough to make me believe in a different dimension. It’s one of Bob’s most impassioned studio vocals ever, and how to not love Jim Keltner and the incredible band and backup singers on this album? “Shake the dust off of your feet, don’t look back / Nothing now can hold you down, nothing that you lack.” To me there is no more defiant Bob Dylan than religious-era Bob Dylan. I see him standing on the hull of a ship, saying, “This is it, friends. Get on board with me or don’t. I really don’t care…but here’s why you should.” It took me years to get to this album because of all the critics I would read saying how bad it was. I’m pissed at every one of them for that and I’ve never listened to any of them ever again. How can people hold a job in which they are so wrong so much of the time?

Black Sabbath – “Wheels of Confusion”

This is one of the saddest and most soulful guitar lines to open a song ever. This band was all heart on record. Heart and drugs. Like Phil Lynott, they wrote the life they lived. Fortunately, they all made it out the other side. I feel that on all their records, particularly the original band. This was the first album of theirs I bought, when I was 14. It was so dark and groovy, and really spoke to me. Bill Ward’s drumming gets something close to funky at a certain point, while Ozzy sings Geezer Butler’s lyrics about being a 22-year-old multimillionaire prone to depression who was something close to homeless a couple of years prior. Hard to resist.

The Rolling Stones – “Ventilator Blues”

One of my favorite songs ever, off an album that just keeps sounding better and better with every decade. From the slide guitar opening riff, to Charlie… When I put on Rolling Stones vinyl through my old handed-down Celestion speakers and turn it up, Charlie’s drums do something physically to me. There is movement and life in those spaces that make everything groove and shake. And a snare that makes my eye twitch. Like so many of the greatest Stones songs, seemingly simple but deceptively complex in the layers, colors, and fluid relationships between all the instruments. Like jazz, but with four chords and in (usually) 4/4 time. I truly believe this specialized blend of simplicity and complexity is their secret weapon.

Patti Smith Group – “Ain’t It Strange”

Just another all-hands-on-deck tidal wave performance from a band truly locked in to what makes them great. Patti Smith has such a way with melody and cadence, and can belt the shit out of a lyric, too. Damn! Radio Ethiopia is the one for me. I love the humble raking guitar chords that open the song that hint at the thunder to follow. I also have a weakness for songs in A minor, the official key of the 1970s.

Bruce Springsteen – “Youngstown”

Bruce is one of the most empathetic songwriters ever. The amount of research he puts into some of his songs when he really swings for those fences — songs like “Youngstown,” “Nebraska,” “Highway Patrolman” — he does such a thorough job of inhabiting the character, I find it very moving and inspiring. I was stuck in this song for days and days, and finally stole some of the chords and melodies and out of it came the song “Peeler Park.” I couldn’t stop myself. I had to change a chord or two so that it wasn’t out-and-out theft. Sorry, Bruce.

Steve Earle – “Taneytown”

See above! God, I feel everything inside of this troubled boy in the song. It’s so fierce and gut wrenching, and just a masterclass in empathetic songwriting by one of the best at it. Brutal vocal delivery to match. Also it’s in A Minor.

James McMurtry – “Rachel’s Song”

See above again! Few people’s work can put an unsuspecting lump in my throat on a regular basis like James McMurtry. He gives you just enough detail, and yet it’s so much. This song makes my heart hurt for this person, this single mother trying to keep her life in order for the sake of her son. And then she pauses to fixate on the snowflakes dancing outside the window. I know where it’s going every time, but I still get a chill when it does. Another song that does that to me is “If I Were You” by Chris Knight. Every time, I shudder. The power of songs like these haunts me.

Jerry Jeff Walker – “Long Afternoons”

When my wife was pregnant with our son, we would walk through the park and I would listen to this song and think, “I want our life to end up like how this song feels.” There are so many beautiful lines, and the lazy and relaxed pace of the guitar and vocal is something Jerry Jeff really had figured out. Music like this has a way of making me nostalgic for a place I wasn’t even really a part of. But that’s the power of great music and art right there. Paul Siebel wrote this song. We lost both of them over the last 2 years.

Gary Stewart – “An Empty Glass”

The most vulnerable, honest, and painful country singer I’ve ever heard is Gary Stewart. His voice is not shy at all but has so much open vulnerability to it, and his songs match the instrument to a “T.” This song paints such a picture in my mind. End of night, blurry bottles, random people, helpless inability to stop drinking the emptiness away. Deep deep pain that started as early as the character can remember. Once again, the mark of a great record is to make you feel the life of the character in the song — from the instrumentation to the production, lyrics, and of course the performance of the singer. Gary Stewart was a master.

Nellen Dryden – “Tullahoma”

This song just feels like pure freedom to me. It was cut 100% live and just bounces up and down the open highway, singing in search of a new life that surely awaits. It’s so infectious, and the playing and Nellen’s vocal feel so effortless. I also love songs that do the thing where the verse and chorus are the same chord progression, but still completely different parts. It’s a hard trick to pull off! “Everyday People” is another great example of this. Great song here. Check out Nellen, y’all.

Pete Townshend – “Slit Skirts”

Pete has a gift of taking the truly uncomfortable and making it truly powerful, examining it in truly epic pieces of rock. The time changes and chord progressions here are from heaven. Yet he’s singing about people hitting middle age, dreaming of the clothes they once wore, of the feelings they could once stir up in their lover, and crystallizes it with a line like, “can’t pretend that getting old never hurts.” Ouch! It’s just so good, it’s always impossible for me not to feel what he’s feeling, no matter where you are in your own life. He’s an original. I have leaned on his music a lot over the years.

The Wailers – “It Hurts to Be Alone”

This is another song I return to again and again and again. When I first heard this, I was with someone in a very painful situation in a very painful room, and it felt like time suddenly stopped. When the song ended I asked if we could put it on repeat, and lo and behold time just kept stopping. I love songs that can take you right back to both the moment you first heard them, and also somehow into the moment they were recorded. The vitality of this record. The voices in this song just explode out of the speaker, and the chords and lyrics are so incredibly deep. And oh that guitar (Ernest Ranglin)!

Dave Alvin – “Border Radio”

This is another song where time once again stopped as I first heard it. There are some artists you come across later than you ought to have, and when you do, you think, “Where the hell have you been my whole life?” Dave Alvin is one such artist for me, and it all started with hearing this song on the radio. It’s a perfect recording harkening back to a very specific era, and it’s a perfect song. During The Twilight Zone-esque 2020/2021, I just wanted crutches that I already knew made me feel right. Ideal or not, it’s just how it happened for me.

John Prine – “When I Get to Heaven”

One of the most frustrating and sad losses. Mr. Prine was a beautiful man who wrote about our world and life through every unique lens under the sun, and somehow had a way to make you still feel OK about it. Then he got taken down by the stupidest thing imaginable. But what joy he brought, how much perspective he helped us see through, and what a sendoff he left us. This, the last song on his last album, this spoken-word ragtime jig about going to heaven. It can’t help but make you laugh and cry at the same time. Thank you, John.


Photo Credit: Ryan Knaack

BGS 5+5: Charles Wesley Godwin

Artist: Charles Wesley Godwin
Hometown: Morgantown, West Virginia
Latest Album: How the Mighty Fall
Personal nicknames: Chuck

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

I live in the hills of West Virginia. I’m in the woods every day of my life when I’m home. This is the setting for all of my work thus far. This place is a part of everything that I do whether I know it or not. I believe it gives me peace and a different type of rest as well. There’s a type of rest that I believe we all need that has nothing to do with laying down or the amount of sleep that we get. It’s just being out there wherever you may be where the world is still the way it was 10,000 years ago. Phone calls can’t reach you, texts don’t come in and there ain’t nothing to check on except whatever it is that you’re doing or thinking about at that moment. I get that kind of rest when I’m hunting, scouting for deer, fishing, or hiking.

What was the first moment that you knew you wanted to be a musician?

I remember I’d just played my first gig ever for a lingerie fashion show in Tartu, Estonia, while I was studying abroad. I got handed 150 euros after the show was done and I thought to myself, “Oh my God. I’ve figured it all out. This is the best job in the world. This is what I’m going to do.” Drinks were on me that night.

What’s the toughest time you ever had writing a song?

“Coal Country” was a bear for me. The subject matter of that song is such a tender subject that I had to absolutely think through every little piece of every single idea I had about “coal.” I had to make absolutely sure I knew exactly what I felt and why. It was painstaking to write that song. I think it took about two months and I was working on it in some form or fashion just about every day. I believe it improved my songwriting ability considerably going through that one.

What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?

My favorite memory is Kathy Mattea (the queen of West Virginia country music) calling me out onto the Mountain Stage to perform at the Culture Center Theater in Charleston, West Virginia. It was one of the purest feelings of joy in my life. I’ll never forget it and it’ll always be one of the milestones that I’m most proud of.

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

Ok, what pops up in my head immediately is a Chris Knight show at The Hamilton in Washington, DC (real fancy spot) and that night on the menu they serve venison backstrap, garden green beans, morel mushrooms, and mashed potatoes with ramps. Bulleit bourbon old fashioneds are the cocktail for the night. I’d go into debt for a show like that.


Photo Credit: Harry Ilyer

The BGS Radio Hour – Episode 221

Welcome to the BGS Radio Hour! For the past five years, this weekly radio show and podcast has been a recap of all the great music, new and old, featured on the digital pages of BGS. And this week, we say a bittersweet goodbye to the airwaves with our final episode. We want to give a special thank you to our partner station, WMOT Roots Radio 89.5 FM in Murfreesboro / Nashville, and all the stations that have aired our show over the years! And of course, a huge thank you to our readers and listeners for following along as well.

For this final week of the BGS Radio Hour, we have a recap of last week’s IBMA Awards, brand new music from our Artist of the Month — and newly crowned IBMA Entertainer and Guitar Player of the Year — Billy Strings, and much more.

APPLE PODCASTS, SPOTIFY

Billy Strings – “Secrets”

With a brand new album, Renewal, and his win this past week of IBMA’s highest honor, Entertainer of the Year, there’s no one else we’d rather have as our October Artist of the Month than Billy Strings. Check out our Essential Billy Strings playlist and stay tuned for more Billy content all month long.

RC & the Ambers – “Gravy and Biscuits”

Oklahoma-based RC & the Ambers spoke on their biggest musical influence, watching The Golden Girls as a pre-show ritual, kayaking on the Illinois River, and more in a recent edition of 5+5.

Asleep at the Wheel (feat. George Strait and Willie Nelson) – “Take Me Back to Tulsa”

On the latest episode of The Show on the Road, we bring you a conversation with Ray Benson: ringleader of the Grammy-winning, half-century-spanning group, and one of American roots music’s most durable and iconic bands, Asleep at the Wheel.

High Fidelity – “Banjo Player’s Blues”

This song from traditional bluegrass group High Fidelity was nominated for Song of the Year at last week’s IBMA Awards. Hard to have the “Banjo Player’s Blues” when you have news like that to share!

Haunted Like Human – “Ohio”

Americana duo Haunted Like Human wrote “Ohio” inspired by a true story, and the end result is a tale told through letters of a man wanting to do right by his family while also wanting to get back home to them.

Single Girl, Married Girl – “Wreck Cut Loose”

Single Girl, Married Girl has always loved torch songs and big weepy ballads — especially country ones! “Wreck Cut Loose” is placed in a more modern aesthetic and setting, but the lineage — and ties to the likes of Patsy Cline — should be obvious.

Patrick Dethlefs – “If You Listen”

The title track for Patrick Dethlefs’ brand new album explores the idea of still feeling connected to loved ones who have passed on. Patrick tells us, “[It’s] maybe even asking the question, ‘Is this person with me now more than they have ever been?'”

Balsam Range – “Richest Man”

Balsam Range, hailing from Haywood County, North Carolina, are no strangers to the IBMA Awards, having won the 2014 and 2018 award for Entertainer of the Year, among other accolades and awards over the years. And now in 2021, they’ve won Song of the Year for “Richest Man.”

Fireside Collective – “And The Rain Came Down”

Asheville bluegrass band Fireside Collective wrote “And the Rain Came Down” inspired by the many “storms” of COVID and the Great Flood tale from the Old Testament. But, despite the song’s somber overtones and the uncertainty of the story, there is still a message of hope.

Kris Gruen – “Pictures Of”

Alt-folk singer-songwriter Kris Gruen wrote “Pictures Of” about his daughter, as a tribute to her maturation and readiness for the world. In different words “Pictures Of” says, “Be excited for and in love with the world! Regardless of our collective fear in the unknown…”

James McMurtry – “Canola Fields”

Holding a conversation with James McMurtry is similar to experiencing his music. He is frank, eloquent, and gets to the heart of the matter with few words. On The Horses and the Hounds, his first album of new material in nearly seven years, he tells sometimes complicated emotional stories through his fictional characters, crafted within the limits of rhyme and meter. His deft chronicling of human nature woven with descriptions of place and scene give the listener context beyond the experience, almost like each song is the essence of a short story or novel. Listen to “Canola Fields” and read our conversation with McMurtry.

Appalachian Road Show – “The Appalachian Road”

At this year’s IBMA Awards, Appalachian Road Show was the second most nominated group, and they were awarded the honors of Instrumental Group of the Year and New Artist of the Year. On top of those wins, this tune, “The Appalachian Road,” was nominated for Instrumental Recording of the Year.

Clinton Davis – “Curly Headed Woman”

Old-time musician Clinton Davis has recorded his own version of “Curly Headed Woman,” a rare rendition of one of the most common American folk songs: “The Hesitation Blues” or “If the River Was Whisky” as most people call it.

Sideline – “Old Guitar Case”

Sideline reminisces on how they became a band, the importance of teamwork, prioritizing having fun every time they step out on stage, and more in a recent 5+5.


Photos: (L to R) Billy Strings by Jesse Faatz; Ray Benson by Mike Shore; James McMurtry by Mary Keating-Bruton

From the Scrap Pile, James McMurtry Crafts a Frank (and Fictional) Album

Holding a conversation with James McMurtry is similar to experiencing his music. He is frank, eloquent, and gets to the heart of the matter with few words. On The Horses and the Hounds, his first album of new material in nearly seven years, he tells sometimes complicated emotional stories through his fictional characters, crafted within the limits of rhyme and meter. His deft chronicling of human nature woven with descriptions of place and scene give the listener context beyond the experience, almost like each song is the essence of a short story or novel. In “Fort Walton”, he describes a knotty internal conflict in three lines as his grumpy narrator admonishes himself for losing his temper at his hotel:

The internet’s down and they don’t know why
And I damn near made the desk clerk cry
And there wasn’t any reason for that

McMurtry dialed in to Zoom for this conversation with BGS.

BGS: You recorded this album in L.A. at Jackson Browne’s studio. When you went to do that, did you have a precise amount of songs ready? Do you overcut or undercut?

McMurtry: It depends on the record. I’ve never really overcut by much. This time it was the way I used to do it when I was in my 20s. I sort of metaphorically do my homework on the school bus. The way this one worked out is Ross Hogarth, the producer, knew Jackson and he found a window when we could get into his studio to track, but he said, “You gotta finish the songs by this date.” Most of the songs were finished within the last month before tracking. Some of them I actually finished in a Rodeway Inn in Culver City the night before we tracked it. Sometimes that works. That adrenaline rush of having a deadline will get you through. Very few of the songs were started and finished from scratch for this record. Mostly I work from a scrap pile. I have a laptop. I scroll through my notes app. I scroll through my writing programs and look for lyrics that go together or something that I want to work on right then. But there were a couple like “If It Don’t Bleed” that I wrote specifically for this record.

How often do you write?

Not very often at all. I write when it is time to make a record usually. And that depends on when my tour draw falls off. When I started making records thirty years ago the strategy was to tour to support record sales. The business model was that you were supposed to sell enough records to make royalties and to live off them. That never happened. My records were very expensive to make when I was on Columbia. They never came near recouping their production expense and so I wound up learning how to tour cheap. That came in handy much later when Napster and Spotify turned the whole business on its head. Everybody had to figure out how to do what I and some of my contemporaries were already doing. Which was just drive around in a van and keep everything cheap and profit on the tour.

I’ve read that you don’t consider your songs to be autobiographical. Where do you find your characters? How do you bring them to life?

I am a fiction writer. There will be a little bit of my life in a song but it is gonna get rearranged for the sake of a better story. Usually, I’ll hear a couple of lines and a melody in my head and I ask myself, “Who said that?” I try to envision the character who would have said those lines then I work backward to the story.

Speaking of melody, when you are writing, rhyme and meter are clearly important to you and you are masterful at both. But do you consider melody as you are crafting lines from the get-go?

Definitely. I’ve put words to music a few times. I have had jams with my band that I did off the cuff and years later I’d put lyrics in them, like “Saint Mary of the Woods,” which was the title track to one of my records. That came out of a jam that we recorded just for the fun of it. But it is very hard to put words to music. I don’t think I have ever tried to start with just words and then tried to put music to that. I usually have to get a little bit of melodic sense.

In terms of the song “Operation Never Mind,” you hone in on the lack of information we have about what war and conflict are really like these days. Can you talk about your inspiration for that song?

When I was a kid, Vietnam was still going on in full force. We only had three or four television networks and everyone listened to Walter Cronkite. He was the voice of the center and everyone right left and center listened to him. That war did not end because kids were marching in the streets. We pulled out because Walter Cronkite got enough of it. His generation decided it was a stalemate and we were never going to get out of it so we left. … One of the things that has struck me over the years is that we no longer have actual war coverage. Back in Cronkite’s day, we’d watch the 6 o’clock news and we’d see actual footage from battles and shots of the troops walking along and looking bored and lonesome on a hot dusty day. We got more of a feel for what that war was actually like. Whereas now, we get nothing.

Now they say there are embeds out there with the troops, some of whom are doing very good journalism but it is not front page, because there is no front page. Everyone has their own channel to go to hear their own opinions shot back at them. We just don’t have coverage. We don’t have any idea of what the actual war is like. Or what it is about or why we are there, really. War is big money. I think there are a lot of powerful people who would have just as soon stayed in. That’s kind of what I tried to do in the song. Just remind people, “Hey, we got people in harm’s way over there. As citizens, we are supposed to question why and we are not doing it. Nobody is pointing the way.

In lieu of being able to tour, you’ve been streaming performances, right? How has it been connecting to fans online?

It is a different skill. I have yet to really elevate it to an art form. But it needs to be done. People need to do more of this. A lot of people looked at streaming as a stopgap measure. I’ve gone into it thinking, this might be what I’m doing. I might have to be this twisted Mr. Rogers guy for the rest of my life. I better figure out how to have fun with it. And I have. I can sit here with six or seven acoustic guitars, all of them tuned and capoed for whatever song I’m going to do. It is easy. I don’t have to move a lot of stuff. I’d never carry that many acoustics on the road. They’d take up half the van.

You have a dedicated page to COVID-19 on your website and you’ve been vocal about the pandemic. Have you had any revelations about how the music industry works or things you would like to see changed?

I’ve never had a firm handle on the music industry. I work my little corner of it. I really can’t predict what is going to happen but I do think that Jason Isbell’s mindset will prevail in the concert industry. I’m trying to impose that myself. I don’t play indoors unless you’ve got a vaccination card and a mask. Outdoors I’ll be a little laxer. We can’t have big indoor gatherings with the delta variant going on.

Austin is just rife with breakthrough cases now, especially amongst musicians. Seems like the drummers and the singers get it first because they are breathing down to their toenails. Drumming is an extremely aerobic activity and the same with singing. If there is some viral load hanging in the air, a singer is going to get it probably. It’d take two hands to count the cases — fully vaccinated COVID cases — among Austin musicians. And that’s just this morning.

I’ve played a couple of outdoor shows and I’m going to New Mexico and Arizona in early September. I had to cancel a show in Phoenix because they wouldn’t agree to my safety protocol but it turns out another venue in Phoenix was fine with it. Jason Isbell has really taken a big stand and he’s had to move a lot of big shows. Overall the trend is going to be towards his state of mind. If we are going to have a concert business in the future, it is going to be mask and vax. It will take a little while for people to flip over or else nobody is going to play.


Photo credit: Mary Keating-Bruton

BGS 5+5: Mando Saenz

Artist: Mando Saenz
Hometown: Corpus Christi, Texas
New Album: All My Shame
Nickname: Mando Calrissian

What other art forms — literature, film, dance, painting, etc. — inform your music?

I’d have to say film or film/documentary informs me the most. It’s the closest thing to actual life observation there is for me. I get lost in good movies and forget it’s acting. When I write, I write scenes of movies I make up in my head. When I sing, I sing shapes and colors of movies I make up in my head. I can feel them leave my mouth. I swear it’s better than dreaming. Good movies are like good dreams. Can’t put a price on them.

How often do you hide behind a character in a song or use “you” when it’s actually “me”?

Quite often actually. I never did it consciously at first. Now I just kind of accept that when I’m singing about someone else it’s usually about me. My mom, who’s a counselor, told me years ago that I was singing about myself. Eventually I gave in and agreed. There’s a song off my new record called “Shadow Boxing” that kind of comes to terms with that: “Some say they’re better, yeah, but you’re the best. That gets the best of me.”

What was the first moment that you knew you wanted to be a musician?

I was in my last semester of graduate school in San Antonio. I was miserable so I started to write songs. The moment I finished my first song called “Rusty Steeple,” I decided that I wanted to be a singer-songwriter. That song and the next nine I wrote ended up being on my first record, Watertown.

What’s the toughest time you ever had writing a song?

Writing a song I have called “Hard Time Tennessee,” which fittingly took a couple of years to finish. Not sure why, but it was just something I had to keep coming back to. I think I was just trying to make each line as meaningful as the last. Perhaps the line I’m most proud of ever writing came out of that song though: “I wanna see what the blind man sees when he paints a picture in his mind.”

If you had to write a mission statement for your career, what would it be?

To create music that’s true to my heart. Put as many willing ears on it as possible. Collaborate with those who inspire me.


Photo credit: Chris Bickford