Maeve Gilchrist, “The Storm” and “The Calm”

If you aren’t already aware, you should know that the harp is having something of “a moment.” Between pop- and mainstream-adjacent singer-songwriters like Joanna Newsom and Lizzie No who write on harp to traditionalist, Irish and old-time pickers like Alannah Thornburgh, there’s no shortage of non-classical entry points to this often esoteric instrument. Viral TikTok sensations @hannah_harpist and @olivia_harpist (Hannah Stater and Olivia Ter Berg, respectively), whose harp-centered “sounds” have been liked, shared, and reshared by hundreds of thousands of users, are true harp influencers, capitalizing on the growing visibility of the instrument.

Lifelong harpist, singer, composer, and virtuoso Maeve Gilchrist — whose own journey on the instrument began as a child at the feet of her two harpist aunts — knows that this global harp moment is no flash in the pan. She’s performed around the world with DuoDuo, the Silkroad Ensemble, notable instrumentalists such as Yo-Yo Ma, Darol Anger, and Esperanza Spalding, and she was even a featured soloist on the How to Train Your Dragon: The Hidden World soundtrack.  

Gilchrist’s just-released album of harp compositions, The Harpweaver — named for and inspired by the eponymous work by poet Edna St. Vincent Millay — includes two compositions written for a community school of 107 young harp students in County Laois, Ireland. “The Storm” and “The Calm” were written as part of a suite entitled “White Horses,” which Gilchrist wrote for a harp orchestra of young County Laois girls ages 5 to 18. A native of Scotland and now based in Brooklyn, New York, Gilchrist teaches often in Ireland and the British Isles, building upon the instrument’s deep roots in the folk and Celtic musics of the region. 

“Back in the days,” Gilchrist explains via email, “when a lot of Irish music and culture was being oppressed, the harp was outlawed because of its ability to so powerfully stir the spirit.” In teaching these young girls the harp, Gilchrist is handing down the legacy of its evocative ability to subvert these sorts of moral expectations – especially those projected upon women. “I loved the image of white horses (the waves of the sea) as a metaphor for these girls,” she continues. “So strong and elegant, wielding their harps as modern day peaceful warriors!”

On The Harpweaver, “The Calm” comes after the storm, turning the age-old cliché on its head, further subverting our expectations for an instrument and a genre aesthetic that has too long been relegated to quiet background music in elevators and office spaces. The harp is a tool for so much more, and on The Harpweaver, Gilchrist’s compositions, as well as her efforts to spread the harp to new pupils, acolytes, and fans, demonstrate this clearly, stunningly, and captivatingly. 


Photo credit: J. Goodman

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


All photos: Gabriel Barreto

BGS 5+5: Rachel Sumner

Artist: Rachel Sumner
Hometown: Lancaster, California
Latest album: Anything Worth Doing
Personal nicknames (or rejected band names): No nicknames, but strangers universally call me “Rebecca” when they can’t remember/don’t know my name.

Which artist has influenced you the most … and how?

My original background is in classical music and composition. When I started playing guitar it was primarily because of my affection for bluegrass music, which developed after hearing the Smithsonian/Folkways Pioneering Women of Bluegrass album by Hazel Dickens & Alice Gerrard. Because I was introduced to that music only a handful of years ago, I still find myself being exposed to new artists who influence me in very significant ways.

One artist whose work I consumed and who’s had what I would consider a major influence during the creation of my new album is Anaïs Mitchell; musically, of course, but I also have been inspired by her trajectory through varying genres and projects, everything from reinterpretations of traditional ballads to extended narratives, to writing a successful folk opera turned Broadway show. I still can’t believe that. She’s amazing.

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

Paintings and poetry are probably the most informative non-musical mediums to me. One of my favorite places on earth is the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston (MFA). I used to visit almost every week while I was in college. I had the most incredible art history professor while I was a student at Berklee — his name was Henry Tate and he used to be the curator at the MFA. Henry made it his mission to show his students the parallels between painting and writing music: we learned how artists guide the viewer from the beginning or “entrance” of the painting along a particular path, all by manipulating placement and color.

When I sit down to write, I often think through those terms and techniques and notice similarities between the two mediums — songwriters can also create paths in songs for listeners to take, and they don’t necessarily have to be linear. Poetry activates me in a similar way. Sometimes I find a really good poem that feels like a familiar and forgotten thought; something I thought about once but couldn’t express myself. Jack Gilbert is a current favorite, and in fact his poem “Failing & Flying” inspired my song “Anything Worth Doing.”

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

When we were about to record the first Twisted Pine album, I thought it would be really fun to record the entire thing in my pajamas just so I could listen back and think, “Gee, I made that in my PAJAMAS.” We ended up filming the sessions, so I settled for wearing my slippers. Now I always record in my Studio Slippers.

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

I’m a Southern California transplant living in New England, and I’ve lived here as long as I’ve been writing songs. Something new to me, that I spend a lot of time either enjoying or warring with, are the seasons. I’d never experienced the full spectrum of seasons before moving east. In Lancaster, California, we essentially just have summer and winter, and winter there is barely comparable to winter in New England. There is nothing like seeing fall in full swing in Western Massachusetts and Vermont. Nothing. There is also nothing like the thawing feeling you get when the first beautiful spring days arrive after harsh, snowy winters. I like the winters, though. I find the theme of seasons comes up a lot in my writing, generally as a reference point for the listener.

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

Since I live on the opposite coast from where I grew up, I don’t have the pleasure of indulging in my grandmother’s tamales nearly often enough. And at the top of my list of musicians who I haven’t seen live but would love to is Joanna Newsom. Her music and language are so vibrant and delicious — so are my grandma’s pork tamales. So, I can’t imagine a dreamier paring.


Photo credit: Louise Bichan

3×3: Twisted Pine on Watching Movies, Getting Bugs, and Mixing Mayo

Artist: Rachel Sumner (of Twisted Pine)
Hometown: Boston, MA
Latest Album: Twisted Pine
Personal Nicknames: Dan “Fireball” Bui, Chris “Moose” Sartori, KP, Rachel Slumber

 

Order up! Our album comes out in 3 days!!! There’s still time to pre-order — link in the bio!

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What song do you wish you had written?

“Temptation of Adam” by Josh Ritter

Who would be in your dream songwriter round?

Joanna Newsom, Anaïs Mitchell, Shara Nova, and Joni Mitchell. Holy smokes.

If you could only listen to one artist’s discography for the rest of your life, whose would you choose?

This is the toughest question! I’d probably go with the Beatles since their catalogue is so diverse. I’m never not in the mood for the Beatles.

How often do you do laundry?

As often as I can/need (two or three times a month?).

What was the last movie that you really loved?

I just watched the original Blade Runner and then had to watch the director’s cut immediately after. Annie Hall was reigning supreme before that.

If you could re-live one year of your life, which would it be and why?

Maybe summer 2009-2010. That was the summer I graduated high school and discovered Largo at the Cornet. I started going to the Watkins Family Hour every month, saw a bunch of my musical heroes in the flesh, and went to my first-ever festival. Guess you could say that was the year I caught the roots music bug!

 

We  @brooklynbowl and @thelovecanon!!

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What’s your go-to comfort food?

Quesadillas and fideo!

Kombucha — love it or hate it?

Love love love it.

Mustard or mayo?

Possibly unpopular opinion: I think they’re better together.