Sunny Sweeney’s Musical Full-Circle Moment

Self-producing an album wasn’t something that Sunny Sweeney spent much time pondering – until it happened.

Rhinestone Requiem is the pinnacle of her taking charge, hoeing her own bean row, and flexing her self-determining vigor. It’s just the latest from an artist committed to exploring her imaginative energies on her terms.

“I’m happy with what we ended up with on this project,” said Sweeney. “We could just pay ourselves. Plus we only had to have two opinions [hers and co-producer Harley Husbands’] versus more opinions.”

“Our mentality going in was, ‘We know how to do this and we are going to try it and see what happens.’”

Rhinestone Requiem, released August 1, is pure Sweeney, sharing tales of figures who win hearts readily and whose outlaw lifestyles embody freedom from responsibility. There are songs devoted to romantic quests, the forever keeping on and the forever searching, like such richly rendered titles as “Traveling On” and “Diamonds and Divorce Decrees.”

Most of the album’s tracks are the result of Sweeney’s collaborations with several musicians she has been working with for a number of years. There are also two covers, “Find It Where I Can,” popularized by Jerry Lee Lewis, and “Last Hard Bible” by Sweeney’s friend and mentor Kasey Chambers.

Though she once saw the sharing of songwriting duties from a tentative and even negative point of view, Sweeney wholly embraced the notion of teamwork on Rhinestone Requiem.

“Songs were written with the rest of the people that I have known for a long, long time … I know what I’m going to get when I write with those people. They know their strengths and I know my strengths, and that’s why we continue to write together.

“I used to never collaborate,” she continued. “But now I’m co-writing and thinking this is awesome. I was petrified at first. Songwriting with others forces you to put down all of your worries. A lot of people worry about co-writing. But I see it as a double bonus thing. You hang out with friends and you get to work.”

Rhinestone Requiem is a throwback to Sweeney’s upbringing and all of the earliest things that have had a colossal effect on her: Her father’s records, which she had open access to; listening to Jerry Reed; watching The Dukes of Hazzard; processing the initial songs that jiggled her plaster loose.

Sweeney vividly recalls at age 8 hearing Jessi Colter’s “I’m Not Lisa,” a great example of one of her songwriting paradigms of setting mood and meaning.

“I sat and watched the record play,” said Sweeney, “I remember thinking she sounded really sad, but now I know what she’s talking about. I also remember hearing Jerry Reed’s ‘Amos Moses.’ I thought, man, what type of noise is this? I knew I needed to hear more of it in my life. Waylon Jennings’ ‘Good Ol’ Boys’ theme and I loved The Dukes of Hazzard. I told my mom that I wanted a son and was going to name him Bo and Luke Duke. I loved them both, those Duke boys, and I loved that Telecaster sound.”

The whole fictional gang of rural Hazzard County folks, Bo and Luke and Daisy Duke, mechanic Cooter Davenport, accident-prone though incorruptible deputy sheriff Enos Strate, and others, resembled the classmates, pals, and neighbors who Sweeney was raised with in the Texas countryside.

“Those were the kinds of people that existed in my life,” said Sweeney. “Country boys were dressed like that and they’d drive too fast down the street. I saw Daisy Duke and I wanted heels like that. Daisy Duke. Dolly Parton. Grease. Heels and lipstick. I had seen my future!”

Sweeney was born in Houston, but after her father decided that he no longer wanted to work in the family insurance business, he quit the agency and packed everyone and everything up and drove more than 200 miles north to Longview, where he’d grown up.

“I’m grateful for that small town,” said Sweeney. “I don’t know if I would have ended up in the music business if I wasn’t raised there. There were opportunities for small-town people and small-town interactions, which have shaped the way I feel musically.”

Indeed, the move to Longview would play a decisive role in Sweeney’s relationship with music. There was a low-watt country music station in the town of about 60,000 people featuring a succession of howling DJs who routinely tried to break the songs of lesser-known artists, allowed for call-ins, and welcomed conversations. Sweeney started listening in the third grade and calling in to request Conway Twitty.

After her parents’ divorce, Longview was also where her mother met Paul, the person who would become her stepfather – and, in hindsight, her biggest career influence. Paul and one of his brothers liked to twang the guitar. Nurturing and never hardhearted, Paul slowly and caringly taught Sweeney how to play the instrument. The first guitar that he gave to her was a black composite Martin, “a cheap, old, sentimental thing,” she said. She learned that her grandfather was a member of a big band orchestra. He played the trumpet, drank scotch, and chain-smoked cigarettes. She thought that he was the apex of cool. But the notion of becoming a musician as an occupation seemed, in her words, “far-fetched.” She asked Paul what he thought – and he merely grinned.

Years later, Sweeney, thinking about her stepdad’s tenderness, her grandfather’s stark sense of flair, and some of the songs and musical moments that touched her as a child, she re-examined her intentions.

“I had a college degree and I didn’t want to use it. I wanted to work for myself and wear jeans everyday and be my own boss. That was 20 years ago.”

Sweeney, now 48, lived in Austin for approximately 25 years, going through some precariously bony times, financially. She juggled other jobs while making barely enough to cover bills. At one point, strapped for cash, she pawned the original Martin that her stepdad had given to her. The Chaparral Lounge in South Austin was the very first place that Sweeney performed and several months elapsed before she would muster the courage to return to the stage a second time. That second performance took place in August 2004 at the Carousel Lounge on East 51st Street.

“There was a halfway house across the street and I was not that good,” she said. “My mom said that there were two or three minutes in between each song and lots of discussing how we were going to play it.”

Swiftly, however, Sweeney improved. “I threw myself into it 150 percent.”

She began hustling seven nights a week, performing wherever there was the potential of a free meal or the likelihood of even a single pair of listening ears. At grocery stores, perched on hay bales, in the rutted corners of falling apart parking lots. If the spot had electricity, she would play there. And if it didn’t, she would still sing, at any rate.

“Many nights I played outdoors without lights,” said Sweeney. “We had lights on a stick, two canister lights, before LED lights. At Poodle Dog Lounge, which was a staple in Austin – now Aristocrat Lounge – there was no stage. No credit card machine. No dance floor. There were some chairs, and you were three feet in front of that, standing there. I missed one or two Sundays in three years.”

At Poodle Dog Lounge, Sweeney played her set between 8 and 11 p.m., plenty of shuffles and polkas to satisfy the dancers. Her act was mostly covers, with the occasional original thrown in, hoping that the audience was too sauced or too ebullient to even notice.

Her rewards and incentives, she said, were comparatively picayune. “Eating for free was pretty cool. Not having to get up early. Maybe play at a couple of other nearby towns.”

Things were moving along satisfactorily, if not spectacularly, when she received a message on MySpace from a record producer who told her that he liked what he had heard out of her in a club in Austin one night. He was based in Nashville, and once he learned that Sweeney would be performing there, he showed up. Without delay he offered her a recording contract.

Since then, she has won over a sizable group of listeners with a repertoire of songs that are frank, discerning, and occasionally grief-stricken, teasing, provocative, and ultimately convincing.

@sunnysweeney New song from the new record! You ever tried to get away from a relationship that keeps sucking you back in? #sunnysweeney #countrymusic #foryourpage ♬ original sound – Sunny Sweeney

Co-producer Harley Husbands has worked with Sweeney for about 10 years, his guitar licks always craftily and reliably adding richness to their musical portraits. The pair are so joined at the hip that his contributions to Rhinestone Requiem are virtually indistinguishable from Sweeney’s, their palettes bleeding into a single piece of artistry.

“We live together and work and travel and play together,” said Sweeney. “That forces you to work well together in the studio. We’ve got no time to not work well together. Having a bad day? Too bad.”

Sweeney said that the vocals on the record are about as close to the authentic article as she could deliver, done without any polishing or cleansing or much enhancing. She credits Harley with being the ultimate arbiter, the most prized of assayers. He knows her voice better than anyone. If she didn’t sound right at a particular moment, he made sure to tell her so.

“I’d be in the vocal booth running through songs and he would be in the control room, knowing what I do like hearing out of myself… He knows what I like to hear. If he was not hearing me sing that way, he would know it perfectly. It’s as close to me knowing it on my own as possible.”

Her vocals on Rhinestone Requiem are firm, authoritative, and insightful enough to be considered some of her best work.

“It is not smushed down and compressed,” said Sweeney. “It is as close to sounding as they’ve sounded at the show. I don’t like it when you buy a record and put it on the turntable and it doesn’t sound like what you’ve just heard at a show. I like reaching the high end. It can be shrill. Either people love it or hate it. Harley’s job was mixing me and pulling out my significant sound and frequency, but without squishing what people are already used to hearing.”

By the way, a requiem, by definition, is an action or token of remembrance. It is a word that has generated a bit of droll reaction, Sweeney said. “Some guy just wrote on my page that we need to pick a word that we can pronounce. I laughed my ass off out loud. My sister said that we need to get those boys a dictionary!”

Nevertheless, it is a pleasing and easily engaging listen, whether to devotees or casual fans of clear-cut country. Out of the new songs, “Traveling On” and “Diamonds and Divorce Decrees” are receiving the largest number of spins.

“I hate having to pick songs to release as singles,” said Sweeney. “I think we should release all of the songs and let people pick themselves. There are a couple of deeper ones, like ‘Half Lit in 3/4 Time’ that I’m really liking. ‘As Long as There’s a Honky Tonk’ is going over well at gigs and live is getting a really good response.”

Indeed, the formula of Rhinestone Requiem is the same modus operandi of loving labor, mischievous candor, bittersweet humor, and resolute truthfulness. And it seems to be paying Sweeney impressive dividends.

“Years of wearing myself out and gigs and travel,” said Sweeney. “I’ve started to see people now at every single gig. It’s all starting to feel real now. We’ve been living with these songs for a year, and now other people are now hearing them. The excitement is building.”


Photo Credit: Nash Nouveau

A Force
To Be Reckoned With

Ghosts are so much more than spooky or goofy animations; they represent lived histories, past selves, and the ever-unfolding work of becoming. With her latest album, Every Ghost, country singer-songwriter Kelsey Waldon gives grace to all the women she’s been along the way, entertaining their urgent lessons as she considers who she is today.

“There’s good ghosts and there’s bad ghosts. Some of them have unfinished business and maybe they feed off fear, or maybe they feed off your happiness. I certainly have them, I have a lot of ghosts,” Waldon says. “It’s those types of ghosts, but also the ghost of every version of yourself that you’ve been and just being proud of where you came from, where you’re going, and honestly, where you’re at; meet yourself there.”

On the album’s first track, “Ghost of Myself,” she lays out how she got here:

I had to get tough so I could get wise
I’ve been a thousand women in my own time
Been a thousand women and I’ve loved them all
I had to get low so I could walk tall

From the album’s first lush, ebullient guitar run, Every Ghost is thick with layers of twang, accompanied by driving fiddle and classic country sounds. Waldon’s velvety voice, which has always been self-assured, sings clear and powerful. She’s standing on her own two feet; this is the album she’s been working toward over the last decade of hard work and meticulous touring.

Modern pop country is rife with men behaving badly or selfishly while extolling the unholy virtue of big truck worship. But long before their unceremonious relegation to the role of disingenuous machines, good for little else than scoring sex and drinking cheap beer, truck songs (usually about big rigs, not pickups) made poetry out of the long haul and produced some of country music’s most interesting characters. Look no further than Red Simpson and C.W. McCall’s catalogues, Jerry Reed’s “East Bound and Down,” Red Sovine’s “Phantom 309,” the Willis Brothers’ “Gimme 40 Acres to Turn this Rig Around,” or Kay Adams’ “Little Pink Mack.”

“Comanche,” track 2 on the new album (named after the 1988 Jeep Comanche Waldon bought recently) joins that lineage. “The rumble of the engine feels like my soul smooth when it’s runnin’/ A little rough when it’s not movin’,” Waldon sings.

Get behind the wheel on the open road, relax, blast some music, sort out your thoughts – there’s nothing like it. “We’ve all got our own amends to make/ We’ve all got our own hearts to break/ That’s the way it is,” Waldon continues, letting go of someone no longer in her life.

Spending time with an old, well-crafted object is a privilege and a joy in a commodified quick-fix world, one which Waldon manifests throughout the album as she tackles lessons and ghosts from a life lived deeply and broadly. The specters of Every Ghost include lost loves, of course; demons and vice; and also loved ones who are no longer earthside.

“Tiger Lilies” was written for her grandmother, whose beloved lilies she now tends in her own garden. Gardening and growth figure heavily in Waldon’s lyrics and worldview (notably “Season’s Ending,” off No Regular Dog and her cover of Jean Ritchie’s “Keep Your Garden Clean” on There’s Always a Song). “I think it’s sexy to know how to feed yourself and grow things,” she says. “What’s more country than that?” Later, she dwells more broadly on what we inherit generationally on “My Kin.”

The ghosts of vice have a particular way of lingering. “Happy new year, I’m scared to death/ My ol’ demons, they give me no rest,” Waldon sings on “Lost in My Idlin’.” Waldon has been, as she puts it “booze sober” for four years, but for her, the allure of letting loose and getting drunk lingers: “Wishin’ I was fucked up in some honky tonk/ Where they let me play my music way up loud.” Beyond an ode to temptation – and in some ways to simpler times – it’s an acknowledgement of those who’ve slipped and the hard work of holding the line. (Not to confuse resisting vice with moral superiority, addiction is a disease.) “I loved getting tore up from the floor up, that’s in my blood,” Waldon says; but staying sober is what’s best for her.

“I don’t wish for pain/ And I don’t dream of war/ When will it all end?? What are we killin’ for?” Waldon demands on the chorus of the wrenching, mournful “Nursery Rhyme.” “I honestly wrote that song after seeing pictures of children being bombed,” she says. Pertinent and direct, Waldon’s premise is simple: please, be kind and decent to each other. “How can you climb when you ain’t got a dime? / Workin’ your life away till you die/ Can’t pay what you owe ‘em, not in this lifetime/ Darlin’, it’s a nursery rhyme,” she continues in the song, lamenting the dissolution of the “American Dream” and economic parity for average people. “I’m a very, very proud American, but I know that sometimes the ‘American Dream’ does feel like a nursery rhyme,” Waldon says.

In 2019, that ability to zero in on the human condition landed Waldon the first new artist slot in 15 years on Oh Boy Records, founded by John Prine, who was likewise rivetingly dialed in to suffering and joy. Waldon’s bona fides include a bevy of appearances with Prine before his death in 2020. Before this she’s released six albums – Every Ghost her seventh – including 2020’s They’ll Never Keep Us Down, a cover album of protest songs including Nina Simone’s “Mississippi Goddam” and Prine’s “Sam Stone.” More recently, she released 2022’s No Regular Dog and 2024’s There’s Always a Song, covering some of her greatest musical influences.

Waldon’s been named a Kentucky Colonel, too. The highest title of honor awarded by the governor of the state, it’s often given to artists who guard Kentucky’s cultural traditions and further their future. She’s toured with Vincent Neil Emerson and 49 Winchester, the latter of whom she will join at the Ryman later in the year. She’s also looking forward to a long list of headlining shows, including at Under the Big Sky and FloydFest.

“That’s the only place that I do feel true freedom, honestly, is in the studio and then on stage doing whatever the fuck I want to, singing my heart out,” Waldon says. “I want the show to be a force to be reckoned with.”

Myriad wonderful songs have been written about ramblin’, but they’re all about men, Waldon says. She ends the album with one of the few exceptions, Hazel Dickens’ “Ramblin’ Woman.” At its release in 1976, the song represented a bold manifesto for female independence. As an album closer for Waldon, it acts as a bookend with “Ghost of Myself.” Waldon started the album telling listeners where she’s been and concludes with where she’s going.

“Hazel’s just saying ‘I got shit to do,’” Waldon says. “Women can ramble, too. I feel like we’re more than a girlfriend, a wife, a mother, even – and all these things that are so beautiful. We know we stand on our own. And we don’t have to explain it to anybody.”


Photo Credit: Alysse Gafkjen

BGS 5+5: Emily Nenni

Artist: Emily Nenni
Hometown: Orinda, California; born & half-raised in San Jose; has called Nashville home for 10 years
Latest Album: On the Ranch (November 4, 2022)
Nicknames: Emmylou, Louie, Lou

What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?

It was a Honky Tonk Tuesday when I was about 23 years old and my 82-year-old Grammy was visiting for her birthday. Midway through my set, I got everyone at American Legion Post 82 to sing her happy birthday and she felt so special. She talked about it for years!

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

I like to have a Miller Lite or two and sing three-part harmony bluegrass tunes with my guitarist (Jack Quiggins) and bass player (Ryan Jennings.) It warms up the pipes and keeps it light.

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

Drummer John Radford always said to me when I was 21 and hangin’ in certain circles of musicians, “don’t trust boys” — and he’s been right a time or two!

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

I’d like to make sauce and meatballs for Jerry Reed, RIP.

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

Never. All songs aside from “Canyon” on my first record are autobiographical and I sing ‘em as such!

WATCH: The HawtThorns, “On the Way” (Live)

Artist: The HawtThorns
Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee
Song: “On the Way”
Album: Tarot Cards & Shooting Stars
Release Date: February 25, 2022

In Their Words: “We wrote this song at home in Nashville while we were waiting on the world to open up; thinking about everything we had planned when we started our band and how it didn’t quite go as we thought. Even though we had a detour, the stuff that we went through on that alternate route made us look at things in life a little differently. It is about being able to enjoy the journey and to let go of exactly where you are headed. The track was super fun to make. When we had drummer Matt Lucich come in for the session we asked him to take the groove away from a traditional ‘train beat’ or a country ‘2/4 feel’ and try something different with the tom-toms. The result is this feel that the song could go off the rails at any time, just like the lyrics suggest. Johnny Hawthorn did his best Jerry Reed impression and took the opportunity to play every country lick in the book as fast as he could on his Telecaster. We doubled the vocals and layered harmonies for a real big-sounding chorus on this one.” — KP Hawthorn


Photo Credit: Michael Becker

BGS 5+5: The Kernal

Artist: The Kernal
Hometown: Jackson, Tennessee
Latest album: Listen to the Blood
Rejected band name: Andrew Combs’ manager (Davis Inman) talked me out of calling my band “The Kernal & His Handsome Privates”

Which artist has influenced you the most … and how?

John Hartford probably hasn’t influenced my music as much as he has inspired it (because I’m nowhere near the musician that he was), but Hartford had a way of doing things like retaining his inner 7-year-old while writing a very poignant song about society or something seemingly little but important, and doing it all at a world-class musical level. He was excellent in every aspect of the process and I just never can get enough of him. David Bowie taught me that creating music can be more multi-dimensional than the just binary relationship between singer and audience (which turned out to be really important to me) but it’s Hartford for my money.

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

I really love any form of creative output and the paths you can be led down through experiencing them. For example, I was very into a Polish filmmaker named Krzysztof Kieślowski a few years back. He did a project called The Decalogue (which I encourage everyone to watch) and he also did a color trilogy (Blue, White, Red) and I was immediately drawn in by the Red film because I had already begun this project by the time I saw it and was wearing the red suit as a theme of the project. During the movie you find out that the main character is named Joseph Kern. This freaked me out because my name is Joseph and then the whole Kern thing. I immediately felt a deeper connection with him. I love those connections you can find through dance, music, writing, any of that — they aren’t algorithmic. There’s something more real about those kinds of connections and a lot of times it seems like they find you if you’re able to see them.

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

The first time I was ever mesmerized by music was when I was around 5 years old after my sister put a 45 on the record player by The Cascades and the song was “Listen to the Rhythm of the Falling Rain.” Maybe that’s not the first time I wanted to be a musician but that song put me on the map for being enraptured by it. I saw Jose Gonzalez + Cass McCombs once in Louisville before I was doing much music and I was blown away at how incredible it was — that was around the time I started trying to write on my own. I remember doing it a lot more after that — there was something magical in the room. Bonnie “Prince” Billy was in the crowd too and I shook his hand, maybe I got the bug from him.

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

On Listen to the Blood there’s a silly tune called “Super (Marijuana) Wal-Mart” about a fictitious Wal-Mart where everything is made out of cannabis and all the old folks in this small town are up in arms about it. At the very end of the song the manager of the store comes out on a loudspeaker and tries to convince these people of all the amazing products they could purchase if they just come on inside. This part took me about a year to write because I wanted him spouting off all kinds of weird products and the cadence of it had to be just right. It may not sound like something that would take a person a year to finish, but there it is.

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

The best advice I received was actually just a story that I was told by Norbert Putnam (legendary Muscle Shoals musician) about Roy Orbison. He told me that Roy had just gotten a new motorcycle and decided to take it down on Broadway in downtown Nashville. As he pulled up to a stoplight he noticed some teenage boys on the corner making fun and pointing at the old man on the motorcycle, not realizing it was Orbison of course. As you might expect, Orbison was incensed and began revving up the engine to show those boys that he wasn’t a chump. When the light turned green he took off but shifted wrong and the bike fell over on top of him. He had to motion to the same kids to come pull the bike off of him. Sometimes I imagine Orbison saying, “Don’t rev the engine if you can’t shift the gears.”


Photo Credit: December Rain Hansen

BGS 5+5: Jesse Dayton

Artist: Jesse Dayton
Hometown: Beaumont Texas, but been in Austin forever.
Latest Album: Gulf Coast Sessions, out July 24
Personal nicknames: AKA the Beaumonster, AKA Country Soul Brother

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

Books and film have been the biggest inspiration outside of listening to other folks’ music. I remember seeing Ralph Steadman’s subversive art in Rolling Stone magazine when I was a kid and then reading the words under it, which were Hunter S. Thompson’s words. I had read some of the classics at this point, but that was my first introduction to outsider, almost punk rock-like, literature. Then I got into the Beat writers and after that it was the Russian writers, then then Irish writers, up until Latino surrealist like Márquez.

I always gotta a book going. Right now it’s On Tyranny by Timothy Snider. The biggest thing I learned from the writers I love is sometimes the narrative of your story/lyrics don’t have to be perfectly defined. When people digest art, the only thing they usually remember about it is how it made them feel. Same with films. Truffaut, Scorsese, and PT Anderson have all made me think, “Wow, that’d make a great lyric.” I directed a horror B-film that starred Malcolm McDowell called Zombex on Amazon. I’m writing a book for Hachette Book Group/DaCapo Press which will be out 2021.

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

I bought a house in South Austin about 18 years ago and we have access to a beautiful greenbelt forest that runs outside of town next to a flowing creek and that’s where I trail run. Besides the mental health benefits I get from defeating the shitty committee in my head that’s always trying to talk me out of exercising, I get lots of song ideas out in the woods that I wouldn’t get running on concrete. Besides, country music is not just a genre, it’s an actual place and sometimes ya gotta get out in the woods away from folks to receive clear messages about your work. I’m buzzing at a different frequency when my feet are in the dirt.

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

Well, as long as we’re “dreaming,” I can’t think of anything better than having a big plate of Cajun seafood, oysters on the half shell, Fried red fish stuffed with crab meat, and a shrimp cocktail, circa 1955 at Antoine’s in the Quarter in New Orleans with the father of American music, Louis Armstrong. What’s not to love? By the way, I rarely eat seafood anymore and eat mostly a plant-based diet so I don’t keel over like all my other relatives did in their 50s from clogged arteries. But I will go fishing and eat my catch from time to time.

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

I’m guilty of doing this sometimes when I write personal and vulnerable lyrics that couldn’t be about anyone else but me, but I write it as “you.” I do like the idea of creating characters vocally though. All my favorite singers have created them throughout their careers, whether it was Mick Jagger’s country voice on “Wild Horses” or his blues voice on “Midnight Rambler.” Everyone from Jerry Reed to Bob Dylan to Howlin’ Wolf all create characters in their lyrics and in the vocal booth.

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

Try to give back more than I receive and keep my expectations lower than my gratitude. The more I do this, the better I feel.


Photo credit: Ray Redding

BGS 5+5: Joshua Ray Walker

Artist: Joshua Ray Walker
Hometown: Dallas, Texas
Latest album: Glad You Made It (July 10, 2020)
Personal nickname: High Wide and Handsome

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

I started playing tenor banjo when I was three years old, and guitar when I was five. My grandfather brought a large record collection with him to Texas from Union County, Tennessee, decades before I was born. Every day after school I used to listen to those records in his workshop and try to play along on yard sale instruments he’d find. The first time it really clicked and I could keep up with one of those bluegrass records, I was obviously too young to know then, but I’ve been chasing that feeling ever since.

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

Often. I build characters based on people I know, have met, or parts of my own personality and experiences. It took me a long time to realize that last part, but now that I know, I use it as a way to explore parts of myself I otherwise wouldn’t be brave enough to write about.

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

I would say film has the largest impact on my music. I think of my songs kind of like short stories and they play out in my head like movie scenes. Certain directors have informed the way some of these scenes play out, and the filters and angles by which I view them. Martin Scorsese, The Coen brothers, Quentin Tarantino, Wes Anderson to name a few.

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

One of my favorite parts of touring is trying the local dishes in all the places I visit. Nashville is a great food town and I have a whole itinerary of favorite spots I try to hit up every time I’m there. Fourteen-year-old me would be disappointed if I didn’t pick Jack White. He lives in Nashville, I hear we agree on where to get hot chicken in the town that invented it, and I’ve had countless near-miss encounters with him. So I pick the hot chicken basket with fries and coleslaw, extra pickles and a lukewarm Sprite with Jack White at Bolton’s Spicy Chicken & Fish!


What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?

It was December 2018 and I had just released “Working Girl” and “Canyon” in anticipation of my debut record, Wish You Were Here. I had played to fairly large crowds as a lead guitarist for other bands, but I had never played my songs live to more than about 150 people at a time and I definitely had never experienced the type of “buzz” surrounding my career prior to that point. I had a string of four preternatural shows booked that, in short, made me believe all the hard work of the previous decade was going to pay off, and instilled a confidence in me that I hadn’t had previously.

The first show was my first time playing a theater at the Kessler Theater in my hometown of Dallas, Texas. The second show was my first time opening for Colter Wall, and my first time playing solo at the Granada Theater. The third show was my first time playing the Tower Theater in OKC, opening for Colter. The last show was my first time opening for American Aquarium, and my first time at Cain’s Ballroom. Each show escalated rapidly in magnitude and capacity, and I’ll never forget how amazing and surreal it all felt.

I’m going to focus on the second show briefly. At that time, I had seen close to 100 shows at the Granada Theater, and it had been a staple in my East Dallas community for years. Spotify had just reminded me that Colter Wall and Paul Cauthen were my most listened to artists of 2018, and when I looked out into the crowd that night it seemed like I saw the face of every person who ever cared about me all in one place, singing along to my songs.

My favorite memory of being on stage actually happened right after I walked off it. I pushed my way through the heavy curtain, and what was in the tunnel waiting for me was truly unbelievable: Colter Wall, Paul Cauthen, Vincent Neil Emerson, Matt Hillyer (Eleven Hundred Springs), Summer Dean, Simon Flory, Jacob Metcalf, and others filled the hallway. They had all been watching me close the set through the curtain, and were there to congratulate me when I was done. That was one of the most heartwarming, and reassuring moments of my career and life.


Photo credit: Chad Windham

BGS 5+5: Corb Lund

Artist: Corb Lund
Hometown: Taber, Alberta, Canada
Latest Album: Agricultural Tragic (June 26, 2020)
Personal nicknames (or rejected band names): My full name is Corby. My outfit sometimes calls me ‘El Presidente’. Ian Tyson calls me ‘Corbo.’

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

I read a lot and that seeps in for sure. At a pretty granular level, but it definitely has a big impact. I’m a history nut also. When I was younger I used to draw and paint quite a lot, but there’s no time for that stuff anymore, too busy touring. I’d also like to try live theatre. Some other lifetime, probably.

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

It took me about five years to write “Bible on the Dash.” I had to recruit my old buddy Hayes [Carll] to help me finish it. I had a verse and chorus FOREVER and I was stuck. When Hayes got hold of it we wrapped up the rest in a couple hours.

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

The few hours between soundcheck and the show are pretty important to me. The venue and the green room are empty because everyone is out eating, so that’s my only real time on the road to work on my voice or new songs or guitar playing. I jealously guard it. And I don’t really eat food anyway and dislike restaurants.

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

Two things. First, I’ve always been very committed to doing my own thing musically. I’ve always wanted to be able to look back at a solid body of unique work and be proud of it. It’s important to me to get my voice and perspective and culture into my music at all levels. Secondly, to just roll up my sleeves and do things myself. I have plenty of excellent help now, but in the earlier, leaner part of my career I swore that I’d never wait around on the music industry. I just made my own records and booked my own tours and printed my own T-shirts and fixed up my own van. Unless you win the record deal lottery at 22, no one’s going to do that stuff for you. There’s a grand tradition of that, from SNFU to Chris LeDoux.

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

I spend as much time as I can on our family ranch in foothills of the Alberta Rockies. My great grandfather homesteaded there in 1898 and it’s a huge part of my psyche and my art. That area comes up pretty often in my songs. It’s pretty country.


Photo credit: Scott Slusher

3X3: Chris Staples on Paul Newman, Deion Sanders, and Jerry Reed

Artist: Chris Staples
Hometown: Pensacola, FL
Latest Album: Golden Age
Personal Nicknames: Stapes, Bunzoli, Staple Back, Alphonso Bunzoli, Buns

 

Picked up a few straglers for our drive to albuquerque. Playing at low sprits tonight with @rockyvotolato

A photo posted by Chris Staples (@chrisstaplesyo) on

What song do you wish you had written?
"Guitar Man" by Jerry Reed

If money were no object, where would you live and what would you do?
I would have a ranch somewhere, maybe in Oregon or Washington. Have a bunch of guest houses, a fishing pond, and a studio.

If the After-Life exists, what song will be playing when you arrive? 
"Don’t Take Away My Heaven" by Aaron Neville

How often do you do laundry?
My girlfriend does my laundry every day. I tell her not to, but she just likes doing laundry, I guess.

What was the last movie that you really loved?
I’m not sure that I loved it, but that new movie Green Room is pretty rattling.  I absolutely love the classic movie The Hustler with Paul Newman.

What's your favorite culinary spice? 
Basil

 

Man Seeking Palo Santo.

A photo posted by Chris Staples (@chrisstaplesyo) on

Morning person or night owl?
Night owl, of course.

Who is your favorite Sanders — Bernie or Colonel?
Deion

Coffee or tea?
Coffee by a long shot.


Photo credit: Jenny Jimenez