Tag: Jimmie Rodgers

Wanted! The Outlaws
Turns 50

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

It’s strange to say about an album widely regarded as one of the 20th century’s most iconic, but maybe the most notable element of 1976’s Wanted! The Outlaws was its highly stylized cover. An old “wanted” poster associated with the wild, wild west of the American frontier (or at least movie depictions of the same), it depicted sepia-toned parchment with a trio of bullet holes. And it pictured the album’s four artists in mugshot form with Waylon Jennings as top headliner over Willie Nelson, Jessi Colter, and Tompall Glaser.

That appeared to be an unlikely quartet for a supergroup. But Wanted! The Outlaws turned out to be one for the ages, topping the country album charts and spinning off hit singles the artists performed for the rest of their careers. Wanted! even reached the crossover promised land in reaching No. 10 on the Billboard 200, a pop-chart peak for everyone involved except Nelson. When all the dust settled, it was the first country album to earn the then-newly introduced platinum certification for sales of over 1 million copies.

Despite the album’s thematic packaging, its 11 songs play less like a cohesive, organically conceived new work than the compilation it actually was. Each of the four headliners got a couple of songs, together as well as separately, and whatever unity it had came in the form of a musical vibe much closer to the progressive country coming out of Texas roadhouses than the traditional Nashville sound.

Considered as a collection of songs, Wanted! The Outlaws is a great record. And yet it emerged from a peculiar set of circumstances because it really, truly is a music-industry version of a breakfast sausage – appealing and tasty in spite of rather than because of how it was made. It’s fair to describe the feelings of many observers as mixed.

“More than anything else, it really was a triumph of Nashville marketing,” says Joe Nick Patoski speaking to Good Country. He’s the author of the 2008 biography, Willie Nelson: An Epic Life, and many other key writings about Texas music over the past half-century. “And it kind of crystalized everything Waylon, Willie and others had been doing. It almost seemed like a joke, but it worked and it sold. So who am I to kvetch?”

If Wanted! The Outlaws was a culmination that added up to more than the sum of its parts, it would not be such a key milestone without all the individual breakthroughs of its principals, starting with Waylon Jennings. A longtime journeyman who became a star, native Texan Jennings was only still alive in the 1970s because he’d given up his seat on Buddy Holly’s plane to Jiles Perry “The Big Bopper” Richardson Jr. on that fateful night in Iowa in February 1959. He’d been working the honky-tonks ever since, and by the mid-’70s his brand of too-rock-for-country-but-too-country-for-rock was landing commercially. On the strength of the statement-of-purpose hit “Are You Sure Hank Done It This Way,” Jennings’ 1975 album Dreaming My Dreams was his first to go gold.

And yet Jennings wasn’t even the biggest pop star in his own home. That was his wife, singer Jessi Colter, who had a massive No. 4 pop single in 1975 with “I’m Not Lisa.” That would remain her mainstream peak.

By 1975, however, Willie Nelson was breaking through at an even bigger level than Jennings and Colter put together. Long revered as one of the 20th century’s great songwriters, Nelson penned for-the-ages hits for the likes of Patsy Cline and Faron Young – “Crazy,” “Hello Walls,” “Night Life,” and many more. Yet success under his own name eluded Nelson, though not for lack of trying. He made album after album for RCA Records’ Nashville division, but the city’s prevailing sound just wasn’t a good fit for him. Nelson seemed doomed to be remembered as songwriter first, performer a distant second.

It took parting ways with Nashville and its assembly line – going home to his native Texas and leaving RCA to sign with Atlantic and then Columbia Records – for Nelson to finally establish himself as a viable recording artist. What finally put him over the top was 1975’s Red Headed Stranger, his 18th studio album but first for Columbia, and also the first where Nelson had complete artistic control. Spare, downcast, and terse as a Hemingway short story, the album’s sound and feel was miles removed from the Nashville sound. It was his first to crack the pop charts, selling millions, and “Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain” remains a beloved classic five decades later.

As he watched Nelson’s Red Headed Stranger success, RCA executive Jerry Bradley wanted in on it. Bradley had taken over as head of RCA Nashville from Chet Atkins several years earlier, and chief among his label’s assets was having Jennings under contract. While Nelson was long gone, RCA still had a voluminous catalog of recordings he’d left behind. RCA was already reissuing Nelson’s recordings as best-of compilations and doing some business, but taking them to the next commercial level was going to require an angle. It started with Waylon and Willie’s relationship as kindred-spirit friends and collaborators.

By the mid-1970s, Waylon and Willie had known each other for a decade. Both had artistic identities in contrast to staid Nashville, fitting in alongside other Texas-based acts like Michael Martin Murphey and Jerry Jeff Walker in an upstart wave dubbed “progressive country.” The music came out of that era’s back-to-basics ethos and was scruffier than Nashville’s assembly line. Author Jan Reid captured this particular moment with a landmark book, The Improbable Rise of Redneck Rock, first published in 1974.

Bradley’s idea was to put out an album where Jennings and Nelson joined forces, with songs both solo and in tandem. But if it was really going to take off, it needed fresh branding and a new descriptor beyond progressive country or redneck rock. That’s where old-fashioned marketing necessity entered into the equation.

Nashville writer Hazel Smith, who was working as Jennings’ publicist at that time, is widely credited with coining the phrase “outlaw country.” With that image in mind, Bradley came across a vintage “wanted” outlaw poster in a Time-Life illustrated encyclopedia about America’s 19th century western frontier. He took it to designer Herb Burnette with instructions to model a cover based on that, and then it was time to present the concept to the artists.

“He showed that to Waylon, who told him, ‘This is your idea, do whatever the hell you want,'” Patoski said. “And Jerry said, ‘Thank you’ and walked out the door. That poster on the cover really gave people something to grab onto, and ‘outlaw country’ is easier to say than ‘progressive country’ or ‘alternative country.'”

In Patoski’s telling, Nelson’s manager Neil Reshen was initially less than enthusiastic about the concept. But Bradley made it clear that RCA still had ownership and control of Nelson’s old catalog and an Outlaws album would come out with or without their blessings. It turned out that Nelson was more amenable to the idea, having just bought the Texas Opry House in Austin. He was happy to have an advance payment from his former label to fund its refurbishment.

Jennings regularly produced Colter’s music (including “I’m Not Lisa”), so she was an obvious addition to the lineup. The fourth piece of the puzzle, Tompall Glaser, also came from Jennings’ camp and was added at his insistence. Formerly of the Glaser Brothers, he too was peaking in 1975 with his cover of Shel Silverstein’s “Put Another Log on the Fire (The Male Chauvinist Anthem),” his highest-charting single on the country charts.

And thus The Outlaws were born, with success that was both immediate and long-lasting. The Academy of Country Music Awards named it album of the year for 1976, with “A Good Hearted Woman” winning the Country Music Association’s single of the year, and the album was added to the GRAMMY Hall of Fame in 2007. It also created another niche for country artists.

“My joke when people started telling me we were part of the ‘outlaw movement’ was to say, ‘No, we’re part of the in-law movement,’” said Ray Benson of the long-running Texas swing band Asleep at the Wheel in a conversation with GC. “We all thought it was kind of stupid, because everybody’s music was completely different. It was a style of marketing, not music, but it did create a shorthand to label and sell something. Honestly, the only ‘outlaw’ thing about it was the dope. What did we all have in common? We did drugs. Everybody liked something different, pot or coke or speed. But they were all illegal.”

Released in January 1976, Wanted! The Outlaws was accompanied by all the fanfare and major-label marketing of a new-music release. But the album mostly consisted of previously available material. As selected by RCA’s Bradley, seven of the original album’s 11 songs had been released in different versions as far back as 1970. But it did have a big ace in the hole, the dynamic of the Waylon and Willie show – “a juggernaut that was big and getting bigger,” said Patoski.

The duo’s live version of “A Good Hearted Woman” was one of the album’s four new tracks, and it would be its highest-charting pop single at No. 25 on Billboard’s hot hundred. It also launched Waylon and Willie’s ongoing partnership, which blew up even bigger the following year with “Luckenbach, Texas (Back to the Basics of Love).” They went on to make a series of hugely popular Waylon and Willie albums, plus their Highwayman supergroup with Kris Kristofferson and Johnny Cash.

Jennings opened Wanted! The Outlaws on a somber, solo note with “My Heroes Have Always Been Cowboys.” And yet that song is associated with Nelson, too. Four years later, he’d have a solo hit version of his own in the soundtrack to the 1980 Robert Redford/Jane Fonda movie The Electric Horseman.

Along with serving as foil to Jennings, Nelson’s key contribution to Wanted! was to give the album its main outlaw artifact in “Me and Paul,” a 1971 song chronicling some of his misadventures over the years with his drummer and partner in crime Paul English. That song’s good-natured sense of never-do-well scruff is in the DNA of some of Nelson’s singer-songwriter descendants like Robert Earl Keen and the late Todd Snider.

Colter’s most notable contribution to Wanted! was as Jennings’ duet partner on a cover of the 1969 Elvis Presley hit “Suspicious Minds,” foreshadowing their 1981 duet album Leather and Lace. Glaser’s contributions fall at the very end, with his take on Jimmie Rodgers’ “T For Texas” and “Put Another Log on the Fire” as the final two tracks. They’re classic songs rendered well, but they do feel kind of tacked on.

Wanted! would be enough of a success that the niche it created was soon viewed as problematic. Just two years later, in 1978, Jennings asked in song, “Don’t You Think This Outlaw Bit’s Done Got Out of Hand?” By then, outlaw country was bumping up against disco, and the 1980 movie Urban Cowboy was the result. Mainstream country descended into a not-great state in the early ’80s until the next wave of insurgents came along mid-decade – Steve Earle, Dwight Yoakam, Lyle Lovett, k.d. lang, and other artists who didn’t quite fit in with Nashville’s ways.

Through all of that, Waylon and Willie both kept on keeping on, separately as well as together. Jennings would remain a beloved elder statesman of country music (as well as Colter’s husband) until his 2002 death at age 64. He is still well-remembered. Glaser passed on in 2013 at age 79, but Colter is still around, making music, and released her most recent studio LP in 2023. And Nelson is, at the time of this writing, still kicking at age 92 – The Last Leaf on the Tree, as he put it on the title of his 2024 album.

Although he lives in North Carolina nowadays, San Antonio native David Menconi’s Texas bona fides include co-writing 2011 “Texan of the Year” Ray Benson’s memoir, Comin’ Right At Ya: How a Jewish Yankee Hippie Went Country or, The Often Outrageous History of Asleep at the Wheel (University of Texas Press, 2015); and his University of Texas journalism Master’s thesis, Music, Media and the Metropolis: The Case of Austin’s Armadillo World Headquarters (1985). His most recent book is Oh, Didn’t They Ramble: Rounder Records and the Transformation of American Roots Music (University of North Carolina Press, 2023).

Lead Image: Wanted! The Outlaws via Sony Music Entertainment

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These Days, Tommy Emmanuel is Living In The Light

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Last October, Tommy Emmanuel took a fall and busted a couple ribs at a concert in Toronto’s Massey Hall. While the injury led to some postponed concerts (although he performed the full show in Toronto), it also produced, in its own way, a very welcome result: Emmanuel’s first solo studio album in a decade.

From his home in Nashville the guitar master told BGS that he experienced a burst of creativity while recuperating at home. “I’m like, ‘Wow, I’ve got time to write and play and experiment.’ All of a sudden I’m a kid in a candy store again.” He also confided that he disregarded his doctor’s advice on how long to rest and was back on the road after “going into hibernation” for three weeks. “If I had taken my doctor’s advice, he’d have set me back 20 years. I’m a moving-forward guy,” he explains.

Emmanuel may not pass muster as a medical doctor, but he certainly qualifies as a doctor of guitar playing. In fact, an authority such as Chet “Mister Guitar” Atkins bestowed Emmanuel with his Certified Guitar Player honor, one of only four CGPs that he handed out during his lifetime. An Australian native who moved to Nashville in the early 2000s, over his long, exceptional career Emmanuel also has earned a GRAMMY, many various music awards in Australia, a Lifetime Achievement Award from the National Guitar Museum, and he is a Member of the Order of Australia.

Never one to rest on his laurels, Emmanuel delivers perhaps his most eclectic album with Living In The Light. While it is definitely stocked with exquisite acoustic picking, the album also contains some more experimental tracks. On “Intuition #25,” for example, he uses some delay pedal wizardry to reimagine an old instrumental. He also handles lead voices on a trio of tunes, including his take on an ‘80s Australian new wave pop hit “Maxine,” the even older, yet still timely “Waiting For The Times To Get Better” – previously recorded by folks like Crystal Gayle and Doc Watson – and a funky, inspiring number, “Ya Gotta Do What Ya Gotta Do,” written by his buddy Michael “Mad Dog” McRae.

Emmanuel may have turned 70 this year, but he exhibits a perennially youthful passion for music. As he explains it: “Music is my blood. I love it.”

Living In The Light is your first solo studio album in around a decade – how did it come about?

Tommy Emmanuel: Well, after I broke my ribs [last year], I knew I had to surrender from touring, and so I was forced to come home and hibernate – try to get my ribs fixed or healed. When I got home, even though I was kind of slightly medicated because of the pain and everything, I was in a great place. I didn’t have to walk out the house and fly somewhere and go play shows. All I had to do was be here and get healed. … Probably the best thing to happen to me was falling, breaking my ribs, and then being poured into a break, because then I got the whole record together.

The first thing I wrote was “Black and White to Color.” It’s like full of energy, full of spark, it’s got everything. It’s completely adventurous and it just came out of nowhere. I started playing some of the guitars that I don’t take on the road, and all of a sudden I got this idea in the way it went. And that’s kind of like how it all came together.

How did you hook up with Vance Powell as your producer?

My great desire was to work with Vance Powell, who I had heard and discovered through Chris Stapleton, Jack White, and people like that. I just loved his work. It was so real and so pure. And I thought, “I’ve got to work with this guy.” He is so busy that last year when I tried to book him, he could only give me four days this whole year, right? That’s how busy he is. So, I booked him. And we cut the whole album, finished, [and] mixed it in four days. That’s it.

I got to tell you that Vance is my kind of guy. There’s no bullshit. There’s no wasting time. We start at 10, we finish at 6. That’s it. We didn’t work all night and wear ourselves out and labor over take after take after take after take. People are always surprised when you say, “Well, I just did it in one take.” They’re like: “What? That’s impossible.” No, it’s not. I have to do it every night when I walk on stage.

You sing on a couple songs on this album, which is more than you usually do.

I’ve worked with some great singers and I’m not one of them, but there’s an honesty about what I do. If you sing something because you really love it and you love to sing it, that’s a good enough reason, you know? I don’t have to prove that I’m the world’s best singer, because I’m not.

Where did the album title, Living In The Light, come from?

I’m glad you asked that. This is how it all started. I was out with my buddy, “Mad Dog.” Him and I are early morning walkers. We go down to an area called Percy Priest Lake here in Nashville and there’s a three-mile walk. We usually do that at like 6 a.m. We’ll meet there and we’ll walk the three miles and talk and laugh and carry on.

And he was amazed how well I looked. He said, “Brother, I’ve never seen you looking so well. You must be living in the light.” And when he said that, I went: “That’s it!” I just thought: “Living in the light. Wow, this is what it’s about.” We’ve all had enough darkness. Let’s get some light.

Can you talk a little about the guitars you use here?

They’re mostly my touring guitar, my Maton Traditional, it is called. When I did “Ready for the Times to Get Better,” I borrowed a Martin D28 because it was just the right sound for that track. When I played “Little Georgia,” I used my Larrivée, which was a different, Canadian guitar and it just sounded just right for that track.

Did you know which guitar you wanted for “Little Georgia” or did you try your Maton guitar and then go, “I don’t think it’s the right match”?

I went straight to the Larrivée because the guitar has a sweetness and it has great sustain. When you play it in a kind of close-to-the-microphone, intimate way, it’s like everything you need is right there, and it’s beautiful.

I’m a song player, I’m a song person, and so I need the right voice to tell the story.

And on instrumentals, your guitar is like your voice?

That’s right. I tell stories without words. That’s my job.

Bluegrass has been influential in your music, but on Living in The Light it seems less prominent than other albums.

I tend to not think about putting a label on it or a genre. Bluegrass music is to me as soulful as R&B or as in-your-face as rock and roll. So I never worry about someone saying “Oh, is this really bluegrass?” or whatever… I’m hardly bluegrass, but yet I am bluegrass in many ways. But I’m also R&B and I’m rock and roll, and I love pop music. I just like good songs and good music.

What American music did you first connect with growing up in Australia?

My first love was Jimmie Rodgers and Hank Williams. And then I heard Jim Reeves and Marty Robbins. Then, when I was about seven, I heard Chet Atkins and that galvanized me. That sent me on another path and changed my life completely. Because when I heard Chet Atkins, something changed inside me. I heard a sound that I’d never heard before and I just knew that’s what I wanted to do. “I want to do that – whatever that is.” I didn’t know how to play like him at all. But I worked it out myself.

And because, you got to remember, this is the early ‘60s. There were no music shops. There were no guitar teachers. There was no video. There was no TV in Australia that we could see live music on. It was all either on the radio or the record player. That was it.

To have Chet Atkins take you under his wing must have been an unbelievable dream come true.

Exactly! You said it, right on. When my dad died, I was 10, I kind of retreated into Chet’s records. That’s what got me through that terrible loss and that period. And I ended up writing a letter to him and he wrote back and we stayed in touch. We were like pen pals and he stayed in touch with me.

Then somebody sent him a tape of me playing when I was about 18 and I get this letter out of the blue. It’s from Chet saying, “I heard your tape and when you come to Nashville, you call me and here’s the number.” He gave me his office number. I came to Nashville to meet him in 1980 and we were like family when we got together. He was my daddy, you know.

You’ve hosted a guitar camp for several years. Is that a way for you to mentor the next generation of musicians, similar to what Chet Atkins did for you?

It’s not just my camp. It’s nearly every night of my life, wherever I am. I meet young players and people and I try to be a positive force for them in their life. I try to show them that if you’re willing to put the work in, this is what’s possible, because I came from nothing and from nowhere, and this is what you can do. You’ve just got to stick at it. Do not quit. You know, stuff like that. But also, my camps give me a chance to talk to people from the perspective of: “I’m an example to you of someone who makes a living playing the guitar. I don’t do anything else.”

Most of the teachers that I employ are much better teachers than I am, but I have fun talking about what I do and demonstrating stuff that shows people behind the wizardry that they’re seeing with their eyes. I can open the window on it and say, “Look in here, this is what I’m actually doing.”

Congratulations on turning 70 earlier this year. I was wondering how your playing style has evolved. Have you had to make any adjustments to the way you play guitar?

Here’s the truth. I’m pushing harder than ever. I’m getting out there like a kid having the time of my life. I’m bulldozing the shit out of everything. I’m having a great time. And I feel energized, inspired, and I just feel like I don’t have that anxiety of, “Oh I’ve got to get out and prove myself.” I just get out and play because I love to play and take people with me. It’s as simple as that.

Of course, there are certain things, like some songs that I try to play that I struggle with now, because my skills in some areas are not what they used to be. I can hear myself playing a song 30 years ago and I go, “Holy shit, I can’t play anywhere at all like that now.”

But I can do other stuff that’s more meaningful to me now, you know. So, my focus has changed. I know that I don’t have the skills in some areas that I used to have but I’ve been there and done that, so now I’ve got this. And I’ll try to do my best with whatever I’ve got to give the people right now at this time in my life.

It certainly seems like you also now have the freedom to make the music that you want to make.

That’s exactly right. And I don’t labor over stuff and I’m not a perfectionist. It’s about telling the story and capturing the feeling of the whole thing, even if it has a few rough edges. If this is the one that has all the feeling, [then] that’s the one I’m going to live with. I’m not going to try and polish it up.

I’m just going to say, “This is it and here’s the story,” and that’s it. … It’s only the people who are willing to be true to their art [who] are the ones that the public actually really likes – all the other stuff is contrived.

Photo Credit: Simone Cecchetti

The Cactus Blossoms’ Modern-Classic Sound Blooms on New Album

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

With a sound that’s like rain in the desert for fans of early rock and country, the Cactus Blossoms let their modern-classic vibe bloom on their latest album, Every Time I Think About You. But with pair of big shows to help celebrate the launch, this band is living very much in the present tense.

Made up of Minneapolis-based brothers Jack Torrey and Page Burkum, the duo’s new project arrives August 30 and once again captures the full, timeless magic of spacious melodies, tasteful twang, and tightly-wound harmony. That night, they’ll mark the release with a long-overdue debut at the Grand Ole Opry – where they ought to find a few like-minded fans of keeping music’s traditional cool factors alive – and then head home for a milestone gig in St. Paul.

After a trio of well-received albums and more than 10 years of riveting shows, it’s the perfect setup for a duo who seem totally at ease blurring the American roots timeline – and who promise they couldn’t fake it if they weren’t.

“I don’t think we’re very good at striving,” Torrey says, speaking from the verdant midsummer shores of Lake Superior on a much-needed break from the road. “I do think [this record] has a comfort level, especially since we’ve been able to start touring again, and really hit it. It’s been feeling like we’re a unit and we can kind of read each other’s minds a little bit.”

Speaking with BGS ahead of the release of Every Time I Think About You, Torrey and Burkum filled us in on what that telepathic bond helped create, and where it’s coming from.

A lot of Every Time I Think About You features the “modern-classic” sound you have both made a calling card – like it would sound fresh a few decades ago and today as well. But is that dangerous territory for a band? You don’t want to be pigeonholed as a throwback, right? So how do you walk the tightrope?

Jack Torrey: I think there’s an interesting aspect of that from our perspective. I got super into Bob Dylan and Hank Williams and I was singing songs by both of those guys way back, 18 years ago or whatever. Page was into Jimmie Rodgers and those other super old country things. We start singing together and it’s like if you harmonize on a Hank Williams song, it kind of starts to sound like an Everly Brothers song. You’re kind of accidentally falling into that and getting into territory that people went into 60 years ago – but it’s new for us and I think that has kind of kept happening. We’re not recreating or trying to do anything like listening to records and imitating it. It’s almost like we’re carving our own mini canyon, that resembles some of the other ones from the past.

Page Burkum: I was kind of thinking about this as a way of summing up our style and influences: The Band, The Traveling Wilburys. Those are like my four main food groups or something. I love where all those guys are coming from – a little Roy Orbison, a little Bob Dylan. They balance each other nicely. And I was thinking, when that’s your diet, you’re going to make something that comes out [like Every Time I Think About You]. … But we love other totally different kinds of music outside of that realm too, and I hope a little bit of that gets in there, too.

Where is the title track, “Every Time I Think About You,” coming from? It’s got that lovely, warm-and-fuzzy feel of a mid-century romance ballad to it, but maybe something more, too …

JT: That one is kind of a love song to losing a friend – it’s kind of a heartwarming grief, where you’re almost being consoled by the memory of someone. And that’s where that song came from. The way we wrote it, I just had a couple lines, and then Page jumped in and started singing the beginning of the chorus, and then I sang back the next line, “Every time I think about you …”

PB: Sometimes Jack and I have made fun of biopic movie scenes like in Walk the Line, where it’s like Johnny and June or whoever sit down with a guitar and they’re just writing a song in real time. Like, they sing one line and then pause dramatically, and then sing another line and then it cuts to them playing it for a thousand people or something. But in a funny way, that was kind of the closest to that. [Laughs]

JT: I was like, “I didn’t ask you to jump in and work on my song … but that’s pretty good idea. Let’s do it.”

The album kicks off with “Something’s Got a Hold On Me” – which almost has a Southern rock swagger to it. Where does that come from? Is that your Tom Petty influence showing?

PB: When I first had the idea for that one, the very original idea that set it off was actually a weird little piece of a Jimmie Rodgers song. So, I stole that line and that melody, which is about two notes or something, but it kind of inspired the whole song in a weird way. To me there’s some blend of Lead Belly and The Beatles or something in my mind, but then it ends up just sounding like a country-rock two step. That’s just what happens. It’s fun to roll with stuff. … I threw in another Jimmie Rodgers line, that “T for Texas, T for Tennessee,” to kind of keep that tribute going.

Oh that’s right, I should have known. Why did you end up finishing on “Out of My Mind (On Sunday)”? Is there a reason that seemed to wrap things up?

JT: It wasn’t a big dramatic decision, but it seemed like a nice bookend from “Something’s Got a Hold on Me” to end with being a bit of a crazy person. [Laughs]

PB: To me it actually kind of leaves the door wide open. I don’t know if you want to cap things off with the sweetest, most-concise thing you have, you know? There’s something about it that’s a little bit out there to me.

You’ll make your Grand Ole Opry debut the night this album drops. Then you’re having a big hometown party with show at Fitzgerald Theater in St. Paul [on September 13]. What does that mean to you?

PB: We’ve got one of our favorite local bands, Humbird, joining us for that [St. Paul] show, so that’ll be really cool. We’re trying to get some of our collaborators to be involved too, if we can spice it up with an extra ensemble beyond our regular band. So we’re trying to get a piano on stage or something. I mean, it’s a theater show, so it’s a little different. And it’s our first time playing our own show at this theater. It’s a really beautiful building and I never thought I’d play there when I was a kid.

JT: It’s where [A] Prairie Home Companion used to be back in the day. Page and I actually played there when we were first getting started, which was a special time. So it’s cool, and should be fun. Some people can come that don’t like to stand, since we play a lot of clubs. [Laughs]

Photo Credit: Aaron Rice

MIXTAPE: Daniel Donato’s Cosmic Country

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

It is a tale as old as time itself. As above so below. Yin and Yang. The explored and the unexplored. The hero’s journey, any and all of them, are exposed to the eternally enduring dance of chaos and order. We must leave the garden, enter into the forest to find the gold, kill the dragon, and return back to where we began, returning back more harmonized, realized, and higher frequency than we began.

Musically, Cosmic Country takes this pattern and uses it as its sole fuel for the soul and all of its musical fruits. Cosmic Country is an approach that uses simplicity, complexity, and truth to tell stories of life that bring beauty and goodness into reality. This 9-track mixtape I have assembled for your enjoyment and exploration today covers some ground of the far-flung lands of music that is Cosmic Country, where the high frequencies fall like rain and blossom like lilies in the fields that never end nor never began. Let’s get Cosmic. – Daniel Donato

“Honky Tonk Night Time Man” – Merle Haggard

This is a country song. But just like any country, there is more nuance to be discovered and brought to light than meets the eye. This is an archetypal honky-tonk song. A few of these will be on here. Honky-tonk songs cover truthful states of life that apply to all of our brothers and sisters sojourning in space and time together down on this chaotic planet. This song talks about relief from the grind and finally getting around to what is right for the soul when quittin’ time comes around.

“Doggone Cowboy” – Marty Robbins

This is also a country song, but it is also more nuanced than that. This is a cowboy song. The cowboy is one of the great American archetypes. The cowboy embraces a life of service, hard work, endurance, adventure, and most enduringly, faith. It takes faith to stay patient and persistent in pursuing your work through realms of chaos that you must travel through and come out on the other side stronger than you did prior. Marty had a way of personifying sorrow, acceptance, reflection, and hope in his delivery of these transcendant, simple lyrics.

“Mystery Train” – Jerry Reed

It can’t be fully Cosmic Country unless it moves you. Internally, songs move us, but sometimes the pocket and groove move us externally, which is a brilliant expression of personality. What I love about this song is that Jerry Reed always had a vision in his mind that could create a groove for people to dance to and for players to have fun-expression in. Everyone knows “Mystery Train,” but this version can make any club, honky tonk, theatre, or arena dance and move all together. Bonus points for a train song. Everyone loves a train song.

“Everybody’s Talkin’” – Harry Nilsson

The bottomline is that we are on our own trip. It is an individual experience of life, personality, and dynamics that only you experience. No one will ever live your life for you or as you. Songs that find promise and truthful reflection on the truly individualized nature of existence are my favorite. The movie Midnight Cowboy turned me onto this song when I was 16. I’ve never wished I had written another song as much as this American classic.

“I Can’t Help It (If I’m Still In Love With You)” – Hank Williams

The Shakespeare of country music. The man who was able to take the power of the word – through a Western lens of faith, hardship, and hard living – and deliver to us some of the most truthful and beautiful songs composed of themes ranging from love, loss, religious experience, jail time, honky tonkin’, and the universe. This song specifically has a brilliant form to it, just one verse and two B sections, coupled with that classic lap steel signature sound from Don Helms.

“Waiting for a Train” – Jimmie Rodgers

Any storyteller of American songs, country songs, any songs based in truth and experience, must tip their “Slouch Hat” to Jimmie Rodgers in one way or another. A lot of everything country begins with the songbook of Jimmie Rodgers. This song is just a fantastic story through and through. The lyrical furniture, the sophisticated use of actual terms of water tanks, brakemen, boxcar doors, all bring the listener into the simulated reality that this song conjures.

“Long Black Veil” – Lefty Frizzell

Murder songs are a necessity. The reaper takes his toll, and with that, law and order speak their truth. One of the brilliant elements of this song is that the perspective is from the deceased character. That is innately Cosmic, especially given the window of time this song was released. Lefty was one of Merle’s favorite vocalists, and was the band leader with which Roy Nichols and Merle Haggard first played together when Merle was 16.

“You Ain’t Goin’ Nowhere” – The Byrds

Even though Bob Dylan penned this one on the side of the road, in the rain, waiting for a motorcycle fix, The Byrds – with Gram Parsons and Clarence White – deliver to us one of the most archetypal Cosmic Country recordings there will ever be. The instrumentation, the vocal melody, and harmonies on this song alone explain this sentiment, but the lyrical detail is another universe worth noting with great reverence. The olden language of the great folk songs of America inform the meter and colloquialisms in this song, giving it an ability to exist in the past through its roots, the present through its great orchestration and arrangement, and the future through its seeds of truth, beauty, and goodness – the only values in any creation that endow it to persist through the fleeting episodes of space and time.

“Truck Drivin’ Man” – Buck Owens

If I left out truck driving songs, then everybody from my time at Robert’s Western World would be ashamed of me. The truck driver is a minister of the highways, the great vehicle of true exploration and discovery. The eternal, long white line drags on and on, and the road songs of her fruits just keep coming, but some of the great ones came from Capitol Records in L.A. in the early ’60s.

An element of Cosmic Country that this song relates to is the overall “sound.” What is “the sound?” It is ultimately unqualifiable – it cannot be fully explained or qualified by words – especially when The Sound is doing what it can be doing in potential, which is rendering feelings that hit deeper than words can describe. With the Transcendant Twang of Don Rich’s Telecaster, the immensely clean and powerfully compressed sound of Mickey Cantu’s snare drum, along with that Tic-Tac Fender Bass playing, Buck Owen’s vocal and story rests upon a divinely simple and reverberated landscape of country gold. If there ever was a record that “sounds” like a country song, this one certainly qualifies.

Photo Credit: Jason Stoltzfus

From the Archives: Jesse McReynolds Shares Memories of His Grandfather’s Fiddle

Posted on by Editor

(Editor’s Note: Bluegrass Hall of Fame inductee and Grand Ole Opry member Jesse McReynolds passed away on June 23, 2023 at the age of 94. In his honor, we’re re-sharing this incredible first-person video from early 2020 that features McReynolds telling stories of his grandfather’s fiddle.)

A true legend as one half of iconic brother duo Jim & Jesse, 90-year-old musician Jesse McReynolds has inspired generations of pickers. But who influenced him? In this interview clip, the Grand Ole Opry star and Bluegrass Hall of Fame member reminisces about walking through the woods to visit his grandfather in Possum Holler, Virginia, near Coeburn. About a half a mile away, the sounds of his ancestor’s fiddle would greet him.

McReynolds further explains that his grandfather played on the Bristol Sessions, which ushered in artists such as the Carter Family and Jimmie Rodgers. Now, McReynolds has inherited that treasured fiddle, which can be heard on his latest Pinecastle Records album, The Bull Mountain Moonshiners’ Way. “I don’t know how long it’s been around, but it’s sounding better all the time, I think,” he says.

(Originally published in February of 2020.)

LISTEN: Marty Stuart and His Fabulous Superlatives, “Altitude”

Posted on by Editor

Artist: Marty Stuart and His Fabulous Superlatives
Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee
Song: “Altitude”
Album: Altitude
Release Date: May 19, 2023
Label: Snakefarm

In Their Words: “I’ve been quoted as saying the most outlaw thing you can possibly do in Nashville, TN, these days is to play country music. It can be done. On Altitude, there’s twin fiddles, steel guitar, and the legendary Pig Robbins playing piano on what turned out to be one of his last recording sessions. The song is a reminder to me, and to anyone else still interested, that there’s a few of us out here who still know how to make authentic country music. I have an absolute belief that there’s a world of people out there who still love it. As my wife Connie Smith says it’s the ‘cry of the heart,’ Harlan Howard said it’s ‘three chords and the truth’—that’s country music.

“I’ve always loved songs that feel like old friends but still sound new and fresh. The beautiful thing about country music is that the blueprint Jimmie Rodgers laid down—rambling, gambling, sin, redemption, Heaven, Hell—it’s all just as relevant now as it ever was. It’s the human condition, and if you’re honest about it and you’ve got a real band around you, you can make something that’s uniquely yours and stands the test of time.” — Marty Stuart

Photo Credit: Alysse Gafkjen

MIXTAPE: Korby Lenker’s Joyful Contrarians

Posted on by Editor

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

Carolina Calling, Asheville: A Retreat for the Creative Spirit

Posted on by Shelby Williamson

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Asheville, North Carolina’s history as a music center goes back to the 1920s and string-band troubadours like Lesley Riddle and Bascom Lamar Lunsford, and country-music pioneer Jimmie Rodgers. But there’s always been a lot more to this town than acoustic music and scenic mountain views. From the experimental Black Mountain College that drew a range of minds as diverse as German artist Josef Albers, composer John Cage, and Albert Einstein, Asheville was also the spiritual home for electronic-music pioneer Bob Moog, who invented the Moog synthesizer first popularized by experimental bands like Kraftwerk to giant disco hits like Donna Summer’s “I Feel Love.”

It’s also a town where busking culture ensures that music flows from every street corner, and it’s the adopted hometown of many modern musicians in a multitude of genres, including Pokey LaFarge, who spent his early career busking in Asheville, and Moses Sumney, a musician who’s sonic palette is so broad, it’s all but unclassifiable.

In this premiere episode of Carolina Calling, we wonder and explore what elements of this place of creative retreat have drawn individualist artists for over a century? Perhaps it’s the fact that whatever your style, Asheville is a place that allows creativity to grow and thrive.

Subscribe to Carolina Calling on any and all podcast platforms to follow along as we journey across the Old North State, visiting towns like Shelby, Greensboro, Durham, Wilmington, and more.

Music featured in this episode:

Bascom Lamar Lunsford – “Dry Bones”

Jimmie Rodgers – “My Carolina Sunshine Girl”

Kraftwerk – “Autobahn”

Donna Summer – “I Feel Love”

Pokey LaFarge – “End Of My Rope”

Moses Sumney – “Virile”

Andrew Marlin – “Erie Fiddler (Carolina Calling Theme)”

Moses Sumney – “Me In 20 Years”

Steep Canyon Rangers – “Honey on My Tongue”

Béla Bartók – “Romanian Folk Dances”

New Order – “Blue Monday”

Quindar – “Twin-Pole Sunshade for Rusty Schweickart”

Pokey LaFarge – “Fine To Me”

Bobby Hicks Feat. Del McCoury – “We’re Steppin’ Out”

Squirrel Nut Zippers – “Put A Lid On It”

Jimmie Rodgers – “Daddy and Home”

Lesley Riddle – “John Henry”

Steep Canyon Rangers – “Graveyard Fields”

BGS is proud to produce Carolina Calling in partnership with Come Hear NC, a campaign from the North Carolina Department of Natural & Cultural Resources designed to celebrate North Carolinians’ contribution to the canon of American music.

BGS & Come Hear NC Explore the Musical History of North Carolina in New Podcast ‘Carolina Calling’

Posted on by Shelby Williamson

The Bluegrass Situation is excited to announce a partnership with Come Hear North Carolina, and the latest addition to the BGS Podcast Network, in Carolina Calling: a podcast exploring the history of North Carolina through its music and the musicians who made it. The state’s rich musical history has influenced the musical styles of the U.S. and beyond, and Carolina Calling aims to connect the roots of these progressions and uncover the spark in these artistic communities. From Asheville to Wilmington, we’ll be diving into the cities and regions that have cultivated decades of talent as diverse as Blind Boy Fuller to the Steep Canyon Rangers, from Robert Moog to James Taylor and Rhiannon Giddens.

The series’ first episode, focusing on the creative spirit of retreat in Asheville, premieres Monday, January 31 and features the likes of Pokey LaFarge, Woody Platt of the Steep Canyon Rangers, Gar Ragland of Citizen Vinyl, and more. Subscribe to the show wherever you listen to podcasts, and be on the lookout for brand new episodes coming soon.

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The Bristol Sessions Get Another Look on ‘We Shall All Be Reunited’ CD

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For Dr. Ted Olson, Appalachian music has always been much more than a collection of songs. It’s been nothing short of a passion. The Eastern Tennessee State University professor has spent much of his life writing, researching, and documenting the music that has played and recorded throughout the southeastern United States during the 1920s and 1930s. His respected work on Bear Family Records box sets covering sessions in Bristol, Johnson City, and Knoxville, Tennessee, have brought those long-ago recordings to new generations of listeners. For example, the single-disc set Tell It to Me: Revisiting the Johnson City Sessions, 1928-1929 was named Best Compilation Album of 2019 by the Independent Music Awards.

Now, Olson has teamed up again with Bear Family to release We Shall All Be Reunited: Revisiting the Bristol Sessions, 1927-1928, a single CD distillation of these legendary sessions. Commonly called “the big bang of country music,” the recordings in Bristol by the Carter Family, Jimmie Rodgers, and others became unexpected bestsellers, positioning country music as a viable commercial format. Along with reams of new liner notes, the CD delivers not just those familiar names, but also Ernest Stoneman, Blind Alfred Reed, and more, reminding listeners of the diversity that crowded around producer Ralph Peer’s microphone.

BGS: What inspired you to revisit the music from the original Bristol sessions for this album?

Olson: I found that the story of the Bristol sessions had grown significantly, for me. I’ve changed my interpretation of the Bristol sessions, its historical significance, and how one interprets that legacy. This gave me the opportunity to set the record straight about how that story needed to be told. That new narrative is in the liner notes, which are 44 pages. That is the maximum that can fit in a jewel box. I was pretty adamant that this is the story that needed to be told and this is the length it should be.

We have new documents to learn from, new research that was unavailable to us before. New interviews and new artwork. To me, it’s revisionist history in the best sense of the term. When Sony released a single CD of the Bristol sessions in 2003, they focused solely on the 1927 sessions. To my mind, the 1928 sessions are equal to the sessions of the previous year. With this new CD, we celebrate both of those sessions. We have new masters for the songs as well. An engineer in Germany, Marcus Heumann, produced new masters for this release. They’re very exciting and they sound like they were recorded yesterday.

Dr. Ted Olson

What emerges from listening to both the Bristol and Johnson City collections is that they each demand your attention, albeit with different qualities.

The Johnson City sessions were an essential part of the rest of the story. They were echo sessions, just months after the Bristol sessions. They involved many of the same musicians, and yet the Johnson City sessions explored a different side of the Appalachian music that the Bristol sessions didn’t get to. The Bristol sessions accomplished certain things that are valuable and important, but they didn’t explore other facets that Johnson City was able to get more deeply into, because it had a different producer. It also was a different company, with different priorities and fortunes.

Some people prefer the Johnson City sessions to the Bristol sessions. They find the Johnson City recordings wilder, more exciting. Less controlled by the producer. Ralph Peer was a very controlling producer, very interactive in shaping the sounds, whereas Frank Walker of Columbia had the attitude of anything goes in this music. He was more documentarian, in a way. “What do you have? Let’s hear it.” Rather than shaping something into a package, which is what Ralph Peer’s modus operandi was at the Bristol sessions. I love them both. I’m not going to play favorites, but I’m also not going to acquiesce into the idea that Bristol sessions were more important because they were a year earlier.

How did you come to choose one song from each artist for the new Bristol Sessions album?

I knew that I wanted to match the length of the Johnson City CD, which had 26 recordings. I committed to 26 tracks, because that’s as much as we could fit on a CD, but there was also a licensing limitation. I also wanted a new template, where the ’28 Bristol sessions were as important as the ’27 sessions.

There were 28 artists that performed at the Bristol sessions, which meant that I could include one track from everyone except two. I had committed to including performances that in 2020 would be enjoyable by those who aren’t initiated into the sounds of the 1920s musical world. The stylistic approaches back then have changed over the years. We’ve listened to the Carter Family and Jimmie Rodgers through the years, so they sound familiar to us. Other artists from those sessions were such talented performers that we can still appreciate their recordings for talent alone.

How did you select the song from the Carter Family? All six of the songs that they recorded in Bristol are amazing.

I came to the conclusion that while “Single Girl, Married Girl” or “Bury Me Under the Weeping Willow” had gotten a lot of attention from these sessions, it’s “The Poor Orphan Child” that, for me, is the one that has captured my ears as the definitive Carter Family debut performance. A.P. is part of it. He’s not on “Single Girl, Married Girl.” He was out fixing their car tires that morning. To my mind, his best singing at the Bristol sessions was on “The Poor Orphan Child.”

Jimmie Rodgers’ recordings in Bristol have always suggested to me a person with a distinctive musical identity that is still seeking a comfort level in front of the mic. His two songs seem a bit tentative, a little nervous. Rhythmically, he’s very loose, which was always part of his persona. I think those recordings show his great charisma. He didn’t invent the singing yodel, but he first demonstrated it on the track that’s on this CD, “Sleep Baby Sleep.” Several months later, he records “Blue Yodel No. 1 (T For Texas),” and that was his breakthrough record.

The Bear Family box set about the Bristol Sessions received two Grammy nominations in 2011. It should have been a high point for you. How did you come to realize that you had much more to do?

It was fascinating for me to watch the press reaction to the Grammy nominations as well as the box set itself. I found that the press reactions were a little bit uncertain of what the Bristol sessions were. It was as though they were all falling lockstep into rapt amazement at the mythic importance of this thing called the Bristol sessions. It was obvious to me that people were changed by a myth, which revolved around two notions. One was that the Bristol sessions were “the big bang of country music.” But what does that mean? It was where Jimmie Rodgers and the Carter Family made their first records, but there were many other artists there as well.

The other notion was that Bristol is the birthplace of country music, which has been promoted by both Bristol, and the state of Tennessee, but that statement has often left other important sessions to be overlooked. I came to see that critics didn’t know how to unravel the myth. So, there I was at the Grammys, and as a scholar I felt I had only cracked the surface of what these sessions really were. I, too, was under the spell of the myth. And I needed to get past that. It was quite clear to me that there was more to the story. I remember flying home from that event, thinking that this was a life’s work in front of me.

Photo of Dr. Ted Olson by Charlie Warden