Tag: john moreland

With Her Album Debut, ‘Cruel Joke,’ Ken Pomeroy Explores Beautiful Sadness

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

As an artist who believes the sad songs of the world could be a little sadder, of course there’s a haunting beauty to the work of Ken Pomeroy.

With her debut album, Cruel Joke, the 22-year-old Oklahoma-born Cherokee Nation member gives fans a gorgeous tribute to inner unease rooted in the wisdom of her own hard times. Pairing a feathery, lilting vocal with an earthy folk sound – plus metaphoric themes filled with animals and the lessons of nature – she looks back on a difficult upbringing, turning tears into sonic transcendence.

Pomeroy’s “Wall of Death” was featured in the 2024 film Twisters, and she’s been on the road with everyone from Lukas Nelson and Iron & Wine to American Aquarium and John Moreland. Good Country even featured the track “Cicadas” back in 2024. But with Cruel Joke, the world finally gets a full look at a “deep feeling” talent on the rise.

Speaking from her home in Tulsa, Pomeroy fills us in on the making of her debut album and an origin story with no punch line.

For folks who don’t know, tell us a little bit about where you’re coming from. You grew up in Oklahoma and you’re part of the Cherokee Nation, right? Does that show up in the tunes?

Ken Pomeroy: Oh, yeah. I never really tried to put it in anywhere. I think it just fits in naturally with how I write music in general. There are a lot of themes of nature and traditional storytelling elements that I include – animals and things of that sort – that I think carry through just naturally. And storytelling is such a huge part of pretty much every tribe, and specifically the Cherokees are huge storytellers. So I don’t think it’s a coincidence I’m writing songs and telling stories.

No, I bet not. I love the way you’re able to use animals. It seems like a great way to talk about yourself or other people, but through metaphor. Does [the use of animals] make that a little bit easier?

Absolutely, yes. I think kind of assigning someone something, it makes it 10 times easier, not so direct.

Like an artful way of saying something that’s hard to say?

Yes, absolutely.

Tell me a little about where your sound comes from. So many moments on Cruel Joke are hushed and haunting. What did you grow up listening to? Where did you pick up music?

Well, honestly, I’ve been playing music and writing for longer than I haven’t been. I really got started from hearing John Denver when I was 6 or 7 years old. That was the start. I wanted to do that and I wanted to make people feel like he made me feel at that moment. It was like a third eye opening about maybe I could do this. And the album, when I sit down and write a song, I am not thinking about production really. I just kind of write the song, me and my guitar, and then that’s the song. My partner, Dakota McDaniel, produced most of the record. It’s such a natural working. … It’s been so easy getting to the right final form of the song with Dakota and I’m really thankful that that worked out. For the record, we were listening to Big Thief and Buck Meek and Jake Xerxes Fussell. Jake was a huge inspiration with the instrumentation we used. It was a very steel-heavy approach.

I can hear that for sure.

It’s called Cruel Joke. What do people need to know about this album from your perspective?

I think from the beginning, with any of my music in general, I just don’t want people to feel alone in anything. I am a real deep feeler, so sometimes I feel like it’s just the tip of the iceberg with sad songs in the mainstream. I feel like they’re not as sad as they could be. I try to make people not feel so alone in those really deep feelings, just because I’ve kind of had to feel that.

Your songs definitely cut pretty deep, emotionally. Have you always been the type of person to root around inside yourself and stir things up?

Oh, yeah. Yes. I grew up very quickly and I had a lot of adult-sized feelings as a kid that I didn’t really know how to deal with. And dealing with these unresolved childhood feelings later on is not for the weak. I feel like everyone goes through it, and I’ve really always tried to stay in touch with just how I’m feeling, or what goes on in my head. Songwriting is how I feel like I do that.

You’ve had some big things happening, like with Twisters and being on the road with John Moreland. How do you feel about today’s appetite for the music you make? Are we ready for another folk revival?

That’s a great question. I really think we are in for a new wave of music, just because I feel like going country is as popular as anything right now. Everybody is going country, which can be a little disheartening. It’s not super genuine on some fronts, but I’m really excited for people to explore the genre and I hope people who explore the genre take a deep dive on where it comes from and who were the pioneers, because it has so much history. I feel like country and bluegrass and folk music have so much history.

I read that you wrote one of these songs at 13, right? Does it still speak to you or still feel true?

Yeah, totally. It’s “Grey Skies.” I remember that being the first song I was ever proud of and I think that’s really special to have still around. Even though I might get tired of it, I have to remember my 13-year-old self was proud of it. But yeah, that was also the first time I feel like I really found “my thing” with writing. I included a lot of imagery with nature and animals and that was the first time I was like, “Maybe this is kind of my vein.”

Tell me about “Wolf in Sheep’s Clothes.” This one is a love song, but which person is the hidden wolf?

Oh, gosh. … Everyone laughs, because I say it’s a love song and then it’s called “Wolf in Sheep’s Clothes.” So it’s kind of like, “Well, is it?” But it definitely is. The person I’m writing to is a protector of some sorts, can see through all of the bullshit in the world that maybe I can’t see sometimes, and has my best interest. Whenever this wolf, whoever or whatever it may be, when the dark parts of life come around, this person can kind of clear through it and say, “You’re just a dog. Just get out of here, shoo.”

That’s interesting. How about “Coyote” with John Moreland? You guys toured together and I love the idea of looking at yourself like a coyote, sort of scared of the world. Why do you feel that?

I actually asked John to be a part of this before we started touring together and it was a huge deal for me, because I’ve been a fan of him for so long. I went out on a limb and texted him like, “Hey, I have this song and totally chill if you don’t want to do it, but I figured I would just stick my arm out and ask if you wanted to be a part of it?” And I think that he just said, “Yeah.” And I was like, “Okay, cool.” So that was a really cool thing.

That song was– so, my mamaw gave me the name [ᎤᏍᏗ ᏀᏯ ᏓᎶᏂᎨ ᎤᏍᏗᎦ], which means Little Wolf, but she called me Coyote. That was a big thing, because coyotes are not the greatest omen at all. They’re kind of like the trickster. So I grew up a little bit and remembered that that was my nickname and I was not happy with myself at that point. I think it was two or three years ago. I was just like, “Man, I need to do something different, because this is not who I want to start being or get on this path. I just don’t feel comfortable in my skin.” So I wrote a song. I wrote the song “Coyote” kind of being all right that I can be the coyote and also be the person I wanted to be.

Did it help?

Yeah, absolutely. I think so.

That’s good. How about “Cicadas.” This is one of the most energetic songs, in my opinion, and it’s got this line in there about the cicadas crying out to you. Why were they crying to you?

“Cicadas” was actually the first song that we recorded when we started the record. We weren’t even sure if we were going to do a record, but after that song, [we knew]. It was such an experience, because the ending of the song, when it kind of goes back and forth, that was a total accident. I did not mean to do that, but beautiful things kept happening in this song just completely by accident, so it was a really great sign of reassurance that we were doing something in the right direction. I was so, so worried. I had been working on my music for a bit, and I was like, “Man, I really hope this is the one.” … I wrote that song as I was about to turn 20 years old, and cicadas were always a constant in my childhood. That was one of the only constants that I just knew 100 percent they were going to be there every summer. And I wanted a reminder of that a little bit, just to maybe prove to myself, that there was something stable.

“Innocent Eyes” is such a beautiful track about, I guess, looking back on life with clarity. When you look back, what does the story look like?

Yeah, so “Innocent Eyes” is totally about taking off the rose-colored glasses. Looking back at some of the things you had gone through growing up, or even looking at your parents in a different way. Growing up, it’s really difficult to just see parents as people. “Innocent Eyes” is when you’re a kid, you think your parents can do no wrong and they’re there for you and that they want everything the best for you. And then you grow up and you realize they’re just people. They’re just people that had a kid. And in my case, I was a complete accident and kind of a product of something very quick, and so I was not necessarily meant to be here. And the two people that brought me here did not love each other whatsoever. And so I looked back at that wondering how that shaped me a little bit. And I think that’s where the song started.

Photo Credit: Kali Spitzer

Ron Pope Chases His Dream On ‘American Man, American Music’

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

It may look rough around the edges, but Ron Pope’s journey through life encapsulates the American dream. He buffs out those spots, uncovering a hefty dose of humility, wisdom, and empowerment on his 11th studio record — American Man, American Music.

On it, the New Jersey-born, Georgia-raised singer uncovers moments from his childhood (like waking up before school to unload semi trucks) to the present day that have shaped him into the man he is and made his musical dreams a reality. But despite its title, the album is anything but exclusionary. Just like our nation’s diversity, American Man, American Music is a patchwork quilt of sounds, stories and experiences that serve to remind us that we’re all dealing with the same struggles and desires no matter what we look like or where we came from.

“I want to make music that other people can take and put into the moments in their lives,” says Pope. “The goal is that if I’m doing it right they’ll feel less alone. I want to put that back into the universe because I’ve taken so much of it out that it’s part of what buoyed me to get me to this point.”

This manifests itself in heartfelt vignettes centered around his family and recently discovered meaning of “home” on songs like the ode to his wife, “In The Morning With the Coffee On,” as well as “Mama Drove a Mustang,” an homage to his mom’s “let it ride” attitude that he wound up carrying into his own musical pursuits. But he’s also not afraid to get political on songs like “Klonopin Zombies,” a story about losing his grandmother that directly calls out the callousness of the pharmaceutical industry and sees him painfully pleading, “I swear there must be a heaven, ’cause where the hell else would someone like you go?”

Speaking by phone from his Nashville home between a mid-morning job and picking his daughter up from school, Pope spoke with BGS about home, family, platforming the next generation of artists and the experience that make up American Man, American Music.

You duet with Taylor Bickett on “I’m Not The Devil.” What spurred you to bring her aboard for it?

Ron Pope: Lately I’ve been finding so much inspiration in new artists. Growing up you tend to fetishize the stuff that came before you, almost like hero worship. Luckily I’ve come up in an era where so many of my contemporaries are masters, from Jason Isbell to John Moreland, which is really cool. But now I’m at a phase in my life where I’m getting more and more inspired by the artists coming in behind us. I remember first hearing Taylor’s songs, reading her lyrics, and seeing people making posts about sunsets and storms with her songs in them and was blown away. That’s what I love about music – you’re always finding new ways to be inspired.

What are your thoughts on the practice of platforming younger artists and what you stand to benefit from it as well?

If you make records your whole life, it’s going to be an ongoing challenge to find things that keep you engaged and excited about making music. It’s like a game that I’m always playing with myself. I want to find things about music that make me feel the way I did when I was a kid. Sometimes when people imagine an artist, they assume you’re only listening to people who sound like the same handful of songs that they know and that’s it, but I listen to all different sorts of music. Just the other night I was making pasta with my daughter in our kitchen listening to Dean Martin. On any given day I’ll move from that to some Tony Rice, Jason Isbell’s new song, Turnpike Troubadours, people like Taylor on Instagram, and then John Prine. I find inspiration everywhere and love that the music I make still feels fun and exciting because of it.

You just mentioned your daughter. I know family plays a big role on this record, from “In The Morning With the Coffee On,” to “Klonopin Zombies,” “Mama Drove a Mustang,” and others. Mind telling me about how that helps to serve as a through line on this project?

The central message is that we all share so many of the same sorts of experiences. For instance, in “Klonopin Zombies” I’m talking about this point in my life when my grandmother passed away eight days after my grandfather, leaving me wildly devastated. In life, we’re all going to experience powerful loss in that way; it’s just a matter of if it has happened to you yet or not. It’s the nature of living. My goal for doing that was to reach people on a more general level. If you are blessed enough to love people, then one day you will suffer because you lose people.

When I was first starting out, one of the complaints that music industry people would have about my music was that my songs were too specific and didn’t feel general enough, which was weird because for me those are the [kind of] songs that I always felt the most attached to.

Think about the Eagles’ – “Standing on the corner Winslow, Arizona/ Such a fine sight to see/ It’s a girl, my lord, and a flatbed Ford/ Slowin’ down to take a look at me…” or James Taylor’s – “Just yesterday morning, they let me know you were gone/ Suzanne, the plans they made put an end to you.” You’re in the room, but you don’t know who he’s talking to or why. It’s like, how many times in your life have you watched someone struggle with the expectations people put on them? Even though he’s telling a very personal and very specific story, you’re brought in and it reminds you that there’s a human being on the other end of this.

We got to go to all these places and meet a lot of people, and what I have found as I have done that is most people want the same things – they want opportunities for themselves and for their children. They want to know that they’re safe, and that their kids are safe and are going to get educated. We have a lot more in common than we do that separates us, which can be hard to see when you’re just watching videos of people yelling or complaining about how differently they believe your neighbor is.

How does that idea tie into the album’s title – American Man, American Music?

It’s inherently political to say “I am an American man and this is American music.” It’s inherently political, but I didn’t want to make something to bash people over the head, because it’s hard to write stories that are both protest songs that feel like they matter and are actually good songs. So I decided to, with the exception of “I Gotta Change (Or I’m Gonna Die)” – which is a pretty open rebuke of the pharmaceutical industry expresses my anger towards it about the opioid crisis – I try to speak in more sweeping terms and not focus in on the things that I was angry about, instead focusing more on humanity and openness.

I’m following myself from when I was a child in these stories all the way to this moment in my life. I’m singing about the car my mother drove when I was six years old in “Mama Drove a Mustang,” then I’m singing a little prayer for my family that I wrote while I was out on the road in “The Life In Your Years” or how my wife and I have been together for almost 18 years on “I Pray I’ll Be Seeing You Soon.” It makes me realize that I have lived the American dream.

I’m just a regular person from a blue-collar family born to very good-hearted, well-intentioned teenage parents who didn’t have a lot of resources and did their best with the opportunities that were in front of them. There was no reason to believe at the start of my story that I would end up in this place. All of that is in there because I am an American and I am an American man, and I am making American music, but I don’t mean any of that to be exclusionary. So many people that are using all of those words do so to exclude others and I have lived the American dream and want others to be able to do the same. On this album I wanted to focus on telling great stories that highlighted my journey and my humanity and what it took for me to get to this place where I got to as a way of showing that I don’t think it’s something that we should hold hostage. We should want other people to be able to reach these things in a nation built by immigrants on stolen land.

What does “home” mean to you – both as a physical place and as an idea – in relation to this album?

My mom loved us a lot, but we also moved often, which can be destabilizing. When I got to the point in my life where I was out on the road I almost felt engineered to do it, because I never had a real sense of home growing up. When I went on tour it felt like I was supposed to be there, which made it easy to wake up whether I was in Lincoln, Nebraska; Minneapolis, Milwaukee, Pittsburgh, or Pompano Beach. For a long time I thought you had to live that way to write songs.

At one point I was living in New York and hung out with my wife during a break from the road, who at that point I’d known since we were kids in Georgia, but had never dated. Suddenly everything changed and I started feeling her no matter where I was and yearned to be back in New York. I didn’t feel at ease unless I was with her, before realizing that she had become home for me. I’d never understood that homesick feeling that others get until then.

I feel that even more now with our little girl. It’s different, because my wife chose me and knew what I was and what I wasn’t, whereas we chose to bring our daughter into this world. Because of that I feel an even stronger pull from home than I have in the past because this little girl doesn’t care that I sing songs for people, and at the end of the day she doesn’t need that – she just needs me to be her father. It’s important that I’m able to make a living with my music, but it doesn’t make up for the fact that I wasn’t there to witness her losing her first tooth and other core memories. You have to grapple with that every day if you’re going to do this for a living. At the end of my life, if people say I’m a family man before they say I’m a musician, then I did it right.

What has the process of bringing American Man, American Music to life taught you about yourself?

There are points in the process of making any record where you look at yourself in the mirror and ask “Am I full of shit? Or can I actually land this thing?” The content on this album, what I’m talking about, it felt heavier and deeper than some of what I’ve done in the past. And I hate the idea of taking myself too seriously. At the end of the day, I’m an entertainer; everyone who makes music is supposed to be one, no matter how much they call themselves poets and stare at their expensive loafers oh-so-thoughtfully. Whether you’re Bob Dylan or Jackie Wilson or Tom Waits, at your core, you’re fundamentally the same as a clown or a breakdancer. Your job is to bring people joy, to entertain them. Walking around with this understanding has always made me sort of sick to my stomach whenever I find myself taking any of this noisemaking I do too seriously.

But on this album? I surprised myself. We are making music about serious things and I didn’t feel embarrassed or disgusted by it. It’s serious because it’s supposed to be serious; I’m not being a self-important asshole. Somebody needs to talk about the opioid epidemic and no one else was doing it in a way that I felt satisfied with. I did it because I felt like I had to, not to feed some inflated notion I had of myself as a capital A “artistè.” So I guess I learned that I’m not full of shit. Or at least, not entirely full of shit.

Photo Credit: Blair Clark

2024 Good Country

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

An entire year of Good Country has blown by! Our new email newsletter and brand has gone so much further and has reached so many more country fans than we ever imagined when we launched in January. The concept is simple: there’s plenty of Good Country out there, and we want to highlight all of it.

As we look back at 2024 and the first twelve months of GC, we asked our pantheon of contributors to collect their favorite country releases from the calendar year. We did not determine for our writers what qualifies as country – or what does not. It’s important for GC to facilitate a country space that attempts to revert this music back to its earliest days, before genres and formats split up the many subgenres and downstream styles of country into various, distinct buckets and boxes.

One of the things most clear to us after a year of GC is that our central premise is certainly true. There’s endless Good Country out there – especially when you’re open to as many styles and aesthetics, influences and entry points as possible. From mainstream, radio country to red dirt, from bluegrass to Southern rock, from old-time to down home blues. Good Country is more than a genre, it’s more than a simplistic pitch to “save” this music we love. Good Country is a place, it’s an idea, a way of viewing the world – musical and otherwise. And we’re so grateful to all of you for joining us in Good Country.

Scroll for the playlist of our favorite 2024 Good Country below!

Kassi Ashton, Made From the Dirt

Kassi Ashton spent the better part of a decade honing her craft and trying out various promotional singles to gain traction. It wasn’t until “Called Crazy,” her third official single, that she hit the Top 40 on country radio. The minor success primed listeners for her long-awaited debut record, Made From the Dirt, a beautifully produced and raucous set blending the best parts of mainstream country. Ashton runs on high-octane energy – with her thick twang packing a punch on each loose-lipped syllable. From the propulsive “Son of a Gun” to the slow rollin’ “‘Til the Lights Go Out,” her debut radiates from the inside out and carries with it cross-generational appeal. – Bee Delores

Kaitlin Butts, Roadrunner!

Set to the timeless musical Oklahoma!, Kaitlin Butts’ Roadrunner! is as much a modern retelling of the epic tale as it is a road map of her own exploits thus far. On the 17-track project she shines on soft, nurturing ballads like the Vince Gill-featured duet “Come Rest Your Head (On My Pillow),” “People Will Say We’re In Love” (starring partner and Flatland Cavalry lead Cleto Cordero — the only song pulled straight from the musical), and “Elsa,” a tune about a woman she met while playing nursing home gigs back in the day.

But, she also revels in its more chaotic moments as well, as is the case with “You Ain’t Gotta Die (To Be Dead to Me)” and a Kesha cover, “Hunt You Down.” Through these vignettes Butts not only shows that the near-century-old musical remains as impactful as ever, but that her music has the power to do the same. – Matt Wickstrom

Denitia, Sunset Drive

Okay, I am shook that Denitia has not been studying, writing, and recording country music for all her life. Formerly an R&B artist (just go on and check out her wicked 2018 album, Touch of the Sky), Denitia’s on her second country record and it sounds exactly how I’d want a country record to sound. Admittedly, I am not a huge country fan (except I know all the words to every song on ‘90s country radio stations), but Sunset Drive rings my bell from top to bottom. Her clear and cool ‘90s-inspired, indie voice and her flawless writing are on full display with songs like “Back to You” and “Gettin’ Over.” The flow of the writing and instrumentation are seamless. No notes, Denitia! Hope they wise up and get you on the radio. – Cindy Howes

Sierra Ferrell, Trail of Flowers

In this instant classic, Trail of Flowers firmly establishes Sierra Ferrell as the voice of a generation. Her indelible songwriting delivered by her uncommon vocals will be revered indefinitely. I’ve had the honor of seeing her perform twice (well, maybe more like once and a half) since the album’s release, each time surrounded by an audience brought to their knees by her sheer, unadulterated power. At DelFest, hundreds of us sheltered for nearly an hour in the grandstand after an untimely lightning storm struck following the opening chords of “Jeremiah.” We rushed back to the stage in troves as soon as the skies began to clear, only to be utterly heartbroken upon learning that her set would not continue. Sierra’s performances are unspeakably transformative – her authenticity and eminence evoke the divine. Trail of Flowers offers us a precious keepsake, a textured collection of harvested treasures both earthly and ethereal. – Oriana Mack

Sam Gleaves, Honest

Maybe country music could leave behind its ongoing debate around “authenticity” forever, because the best country doesn’t need to be “authentic,” it just needs to be honest.

Sam Gleaves is an Appalachian singer, songwriter, multi-instrumentalist, educator, and community builder whose every note, sung or plucked, is as truthful and stalwart as the mountains he calls home. His new album, Honest, combines old-time, honky tonkin’ country, bluegrass, and mountain music in a charming, down-to-earth package that’s never ambitious or try-hard. At the same time, this is one of the best country albums of the year and then some, with impeccable, tear-jerker tracks like “Beautiful” and hilarious, sexy romps like “Queer Cowboy.” There’s no performance of traditional authenticity signifiers here; Gleaves’ most radical act is allowing us to perceive him wholly, through his music. That’s all too rare in mainstream country, but a longstanding legacy that’s alive and well on the genre’s fringes. – Justin Hiltner

Mickey Guyton, This Is Who I’ve Always Been

Although she’s long considered herself an “outlaw,” Mickey Guyton has steadily moved up the country music ladder. She’s ultimately emerged as a consistent example of individuality and creativity. She’s battled since signing her first deal in 2011, refusing to accept the notion that being Black and outspoken placed limits on either outreach or popularity. She’s steadily smashed barriers, most notably being the first Black woman to be nominated in the Best Country Song GRAMMY category, and the first to both perform at and later co-host the Academy of Country Music Awards.

But she’s now also realizing her greatest musical achievements. Guyton’s latest LP, This Is Who I’ve Always Been, is a marvelous declaration of her country roots and legacy, a recorded statement that says everything without being overtly political in lyrical tone and presentation. There are 12 joyous, rousing tracks that spotlight her writing skills alongside Tyler Hubbard and Corey Crowder. It’s only fitting that she’s joined by Kane Brown on the stirring “Nothing Compares to You.” It’s a powerhouse tune co-written by Hubbard, Bebe Rexha, and Jordan Schmidt that is arguably the LP’s definitive performance. Guyton is now a Nashville resident, and this album celebrates her triumph as a true example of country’s diversity and inclusion. – Ron Wynn

Stephanie Lambring, Hypocrite

We should all be talking about Stephanie Lambring more. Like, a lot more. On her sophomore album, Hypocrite, Lambring continues her all-killer-no-filler critiques of patriarchy and oppression. The album opens with the ominous pop of “Cover Girl” before delving into the shattering vulnerability of “Good Mother.” Lambring has had her share of bitter experience in the Nashville machine and sharing those stories of superficial “authenticity” has proved to be the best thing she could have done – liberating for her, yes, but also offering the rest of us a portal to examine our ingrained biases and, hopefully, to break free of them. Hypocrite is not an easy listen – if you are a human being, you will squirm at least once listening to these lyrics – but it’s essential. – Rachel Cholst

Cindy Lee, Diamond Jubilee

Cindy Lee is the non-binary alter-ego of Patrick Flegel, reclusive former leader of Canadian post-punk band Women – and you could say Flegel made some curious decisions about how to put this music out into the world. Instead of the usual streaming sites, Diamond Jubilee lives primarily on YouTube as a two-hour-plus video of all 32 songs as a single track, no breaks. But don’t let that scare you. Diamond Jubilee is spectral late-night soundtrack music to a movie that hasn’t been made yet. You sure can picture it, though. The sonics are proudly low-fidelity, yet the gauzy arrangements are precise (and Flegel is one hell of an evocative less-is-more guitarist). Imagine Brian Wilson conducting teenage symphonies to the afterlife, and you’re in the ballpark. An amazing collection of music, deep as it is broad. – David Menconi

Adrianne Lenker, Bright Future

Indie-country-folk enigma Adrianne Lenker didn’t use a single piece of digital equipment while recording her seventh full-length solo album, Bright Future. Instead, she and five friends hunkered down at a studio that’s only been described publicly as “in the woods” somewhere in New England. They recorded an intimate, intuitive album using a process known as AAA. (That’s analog recording, analog mixing, and analog mastering.)

Despite its decidedly anachronistic engineering, Bright Future is one of the most unique and powerful American folk releases of 2024. It’s even been nominated for a GRAMMY for Best Folk Album, marking Lenker’s first GRAMMY nomination as a solo artist. Listening to the album feels like sitting in a small, warm room with Lenker and her collaborators, with every breath and every shifting movement still audible on the tape. For me, getting releases like this that feel so undeniably rooted in the real, tangible world, really does make the future seem a bit more bright – a small form of resistance against the forced digitization of our lives. – Dana Yewbank

Pete Mancini, “American Equator”

Pete Mancini has been carving a path for himself through the country music landscape since the release of his debut solo album in 2017. Coincidentally, the title of his newest single, “American Equator,” is inspired by the idea of a literal divide carved into the U.S. landscape. Mancini can be playful, imaginative, and solemn with his writing and “American Equator” showcases these qualities sewn together. Much like the faders mentioned in the song’s chorus, Mancini knows when and how to apply blunt honesty for several true-to-life references and when to present the ugliness of the song’s settings through a no less candid but much more palatable metaphor. Even if heavy narratives aren’t what you’re after, the steady groove, power-pop style guitar tone, and hopeful arc of the chord progression make “American Equator” a tune that’s easy to turn up and enjoy – especially on long highway road trips. – Kira Grunenberg

John Moreland, Visitor

For a slice of the country music-listening public, April 5, 2024 had December 13, 2013 energy. In fact, were Beyoncé not the Beyoncé of country music, I might say that John Moreland is the Beyoncé of country music. Both are undeniable stars and underrated producers. Visitor is a beautiful album that reveals brilliant new details with each listen. I sometimes feel fragile when the drums kick in on “Blue Dream Carolina,” but by the end of the track I always feel better. I am so happy that this songwriter’s songwriter keeps growing his audience. I am not entirely sure what country music is. I wish more of it sounded like a John Moreland record. – Lizzie No

Lizzie No, Halfsies

This was the year when Lizzie No seemed to fully embody their inner country crooner. No welcomed 2024 with the release of Halfsies in January on Thirty Tigers. Its songs tell a story of being female in an America that expects more of its women the more the melanin in their skin. When No sang in the title track about leaving her “sandals in a cab” and finding “a snakeskin in the grass,” she was talking about pain and loss and transformation. About the performative nature of identity. When Loretta Lynn sang “You’re lookin’ at country,” she was talking about what people are looking for as much as what they actually see. If Lynn has a legatee in today’s country circles, it just might be Lizzie No. – Kim Ruehl

The Red Clay Strays, Made by These Moments and Live at the Ryman

Bursting out of their native Mobile, Alabama, The Red Clay Strays emerged as the hottest live act of 2024. A snarling blend of Americana, rock, and alt-country tones, the group went from selling 40 tickets a gig to 4,000 in less than 18 months – an incredible feat by any measure, and one immediately justified by the “you had to be there” stage presence of lead singer Brandon Coleman and company.

Rolling into this summer, the Strays offered up their sophomore album, Made by These Moments, to wide acclaim from audiences and critics alike. But, it was the recently-released Live at the Ryman that truly showcases the intricate depth of sonic abilities and fire-and-brimstone vocal prowess at the heart of the outfit. The biggest takeaway? There’s no ceiling to the size and scope of where the Strays can take their music – in the studio or onto the stage. What remains is pure passion and guided purpose for their craft, this platform for compassion they hold with deep respect. – Garret K. Woodward

Zach Top, Cold Beer & Country Music

Rest easy, for country has been saved! But no, because Zach Top himself doesn’t even believe that the genre needs to be rescued. Even so, this young bluegrass-raised artist, who seemingly catapulted overnight into retro, nostalgic country stardom, is doing his utmost to keep the realest kinds of ‘90s and throwback country alive and contemporary. With the mustache and Wrangler jeans to prove it. Watching as his audience has ballooned over the last year demonstrates that Top is certainly not alone in his love for this kind of archetypical country. “I Never Lie” is probably the most impactful and far-reaching single from the genre of the year, as recognizable and requested on Lower Broadway as in the halls of SPBGMA (the Society for the Preservation of Bluegrass Music in America). Top brings so many circles of the country music Venn diagram together, organically, and we are all better for it. I hope I stay embedded on Zach TopTok forever. – Justin Hiltner

Twisters Soundtrack

Twisters is not a great movie, though it would have been better if they let Glen Powell fuck. Or if they let the weirdness that David Corenswet displayed in Pearl show up here. It would have been a more politically relevant movie if the director didn’t refuse to talk about climate change – which is why all of the chaotic weather is happening in Oklahoma.

Its soundtrack, though, is genuinely great. Part of the reason why is how carefully it was marketed – to work through the ongoing genre battles in country, to acknowledge the nostalgia of the original 1990s film, and to think about what country might mean more broadly. Ignoring climate change might be part of the film’s faltering, foisting the bland hegemony of Powell is also part of it, but the album is more disruptive. And more beautiful than it has any right to be. It almost reaches gender parity, it has half-a-dozen Black performers, there are legacy acts and up-and-comers. Listening to the Twisters soundtrack this year made me yearn for a counterfactual country radio. – Steacy Easton

Rhonda Vincent, Destinations and Fun Places

I’m a firm believer that bluegrass sits pretty under the umbrella of “country music.” If you’re a country music lover and are looking to expand your horizons, let my 2024 Good Country selection nudge you towards some ‘grass. You’ll thank me later.

This year, Rhonda Vincent released her highly-anticipated album, Destinations and Fun Places, and it’s soooo Bluegrass Barbie-coded. From her stunning hot pink dress on the cover to her top-notch covers like “9 to 5” and “Please Mr Please,” Rhonda proves she’s still the queen. With featured artists like Dolly Parton, Trisha Yearwood, Cody Johnson, and Alison Krauss, any country music fan would have plenty of familiar voices to enjoy. This record also showcases Rhonda’s musical range, with sweet songs like “I Miss Missouri” to bluegrass ragers like “Rocky Top.” From “Margaritaville” to “The City of New Orleans,” Rhonda Vincent is truly an American treasure. All hail the queen! – Bluegrass Barbie

Need more Good Country? Sign up on Substack to receive our monthly email newsletter with endless country, Americana, and more direct to your inbox. 

Photo Credit: Sierra Ferrell by Bobbi Rich; Zach Top courtesy of the artist; Denitia by Chase Denton.

Freedom in a Flip Phone: John Moreland’s Quest for a Simple Life

Posted on by Shelby Williamson

I hate surprises. However, Oklahoma’s pride and joy John Moreland surprised us in April with his latest album, Visitor, and I guess I’m okay with it. Moreland’s gone back to a sparse acoustic instrumentation, unlike the electronic sound (which I also loved) on his previous release, 2022’s Birds in the Ceiling. Recently, he took a page from his wife Pearl Rachinsky’s and musician (and recent tour buddy) Chris ​Staples’ books and quit his smartphone, took a social media break, and stopped all touring for six months. What ensued was an incredible psychic change discovered through living electronically off the grid. Another thing that came about during this simplicity in life: An album full of songs. He would take long drives at night, bringing along his guitar and making field recordings of his new writing. All this culminated into his beautiful new record.

LISTEN: APPLE • SPOTIFY • AMAZON • MP3

During our Basic Folk chat, Moreland talks about the process of unraveling himself from his smartphone, reconnecting with the acoustic guitar, and getting to know himself again during this period of quiet. He talks about how playing live is very vulnerable for him, to the point where he started taking (and loving) beta-blockers to stave off anxiety and adrenaline. He is very candid with his current thoughts on body image – he has been known to experience body shaming online after performing live. We also get into something that’s been on my mind all year: Is climbing the professional songwriting ladder worth it? Pretty sure we figured out the answer. LOL

Photo Credit: Pearl Rachinsky

LISTEN: Volume Five, “You Don’t Care For Me Enough to Cry”

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Artist: Volume Five
Hometown: Booneville, Mississippi
Song: “You Don’t Care For Me Enough to Cry”
Release Date: October 10, 2023
Label: Mountain Fever Records

In Their Words: “When I first heard this song it was performed by the writer and artist John Moreland. He played the song with a finger picking style. I loved it so much that I learned to play it fingerstyle. I had planned to record it that way, but when we got to the studio and began arranging the song we actually liked it better as a full band sound. This is a very well written song. If you listen closely to the lyrics, I’m sure it will completely captivate you as it did me.” – Glen Harrell, fiddle

Photo Credit: Samantha Harrell

Basic Folk – John Calvin Abney

Posted on by Shelby Williamson

A lot of people like to claim the title “Hardest Working Person In Music” but John Calvin Abney might take the crown from them all. John has made a name for himself as a shit-hot guitar player, accompanying John Moreland, Samantha Crain, Margo Cilker, and many others (including Lizzie No herself!) But the reason we wanted him to join us as a guest on Basic Folk is that his own catalog is poetic and beautifully produced.

LISTEN: APPLE • SPOTIFY • STITCHER • AMAZON • MP3

John grew up in Nevada and Oklahoma, and you can hear the restless desert highways in all the soundscapes he creates. His latest album, Tourist, asks the question of how a person can feel at home when they spend their life on the road. It also finds resolution after the death of John’s father, through found recordings and thoughtful lyrics. Listening to Tourist feels like catching up with an old friend. You might hear Elliott Smith in “Good Luck and High Tide” or J.J. Cale in “Call Me Achilles,” but the stories are John Calvin to the core.

We dug into recording techniques, John’s high school identity as “guitar guy,” touring with Hanson, Christian camp, and how running off to Europe as a romantic gesture helped launch John’s career.

Editor’s Note: Basic Folk is currently running their annual fall fundraiser! Visit basicfolk.com/donate for a message from hosts Cindy Howes and Lizzie No, and to support this listener-funded podcast.

Photo Credit: Rebecca Sarkar

MIXTAPE: Blue Water Highway’s Space Ship in a Barn

Posted on by Editor

We are a four-piece Americana/indie rock and roll band from Austin, Texas, combining our love of singing and harmony (Catherine and Zack were both opera majors in college) with thoughtful songwriting, musicianship, and arranging (Greg and Kyle are multi-instrumentalists, also with college degrees in music). Being from Texas, we are rooted in its southern/western traditions, but love to musically and lyrically explore the contrasts in culture between rural and urban life, and the way that technology has affected both. This was one of the concepts — what we kept calling “building a space ship in a barn” — that was at the heart of our upcoming album, Paper Airplanes, produced by Cason Cooley, and it is the theme of our mixtape.

These “space ship in a barn” songs are a huge inspiration to us, often using acoustic instruments and natural vocals/harmonies mixed with analog synthesizers and electric guitars. Essentially mixing the organic sounds of the country with those of the urbanized, modern world. They also show a contrast between material things, and emotions that can sometimes best be expressed by otherworldly-type sounds. — Blue Water Highway

Bruce Springsteen – “I’m on Fire”

We find ourselves constantly referencing the Boss and his Born in the U.S.A. album, and this track specifically, as a great example of how classic rock and roll and rockabilly crossed with an analog CS-80 synth somehow works so well.

Sandra McCracken – “Reciprocate”

There is something about this track, and whole album really, that uses the roots vs. digital mix to maximum effect. The foundation is the fragility of the vocal and the acoustic guitar, but the “space” sounds peek through, like little slivers of light coming down through the dark clouds. Produced by Cason Cooley, this is one of the initial influences for our album.

The National – “Quiet Light”

The National’s 2019 release, I Am Easy to Find, has some of the best vibe in piano tones and “Quiet Light” is no exception. The soundscapes and drumming on this tune were just so innovative yet familiar.

Matthew Perryman Jones – “Waking the Dead”

The atmosphere kicks in right from the start and supports this upbeat rocker, which happens to be the only non-ballad on this record, is also produced by Cason Cooley, and admittedly is one of the few non-ballads that MPJ writes. The whole record is a rootsy trip through outer space.

Hozier – “Almost (Sweet Music)”

This song combines three things we love: good songwriting, good groove, and jazz. Hozier weaves titles from famous jazz songs throughout the lyrics of this song, and if you didn’t know the jazz songs he mentions you’d have no idea. Hozier is a great example of an artist who uses rootsy sounds with very modern, pop-oriented production techniques.

Phoebe Bridgers – “Motion Sickness”

Is it a country song or not? At least that is the argument we’ve been having in our band since the song came out. The soundscape is obviously a great example of vibey, modern, groovy, indie-rock production, and the lyrics have a very 21st century suburban-kid perspective. But still, there is something in the mood and the lyrics that doesn’t seem too far from Hank Williams… or Dolly Parton… anyone?

Elbow –”lippy kids”

Our producer introduced us to this band and this track, which is not only a perfect example of our theme sonically, but also lyrically. The refrain of “build a rocket boys” exactly conveys the sense of childhood wonder we wanted to evoke on our album.

Taylor Swift – “peace”

We’re big Taylor Swift fans in this band, always have been. Then she released folklore and evermore in 2020, which somehow fit perfectly with sounds of our album, even though we had already recorded it. Catherine never turned these albums off… ever. Taylor Swift is not given nearly enough credit as a songwriter and this is one of those perfectly produced tracks that makes her shine.

Blue Water Highway – “Grateful”

Definitely leaning more on the “barn,” or rootsy, side of things, this is our tongue-in-cheek take on thankfulness, and we still manage to put enough stardust sounds in the mix that it fits with the rest of the album.

Big Red Machine – “Hymnostic”

This song sounds like sunlight shining through the windows of an old white wooden church. Aaron Dessner (The National) and Justin Vernon (Bon Iver) combine to create the ultimate “spaceship in a barn” vibe. Big Red Machine, The National, and Bon Iver have all accompanied us many many times on late-night drives from state to state.

John Moreland – “When My Fever Breaks”

When an amazing songwriter gets a hold of a drum machine, this is the result. Great songs, and vibey drum production, complete with other synths make this album one to keep revisiting.

Brandon Flowers – “Between Me And You”

Brandon Flowers is one of the core artists we reference. Combining a indie synth rock aesthetic with heartland songwriting, he represents one of the many examples of bringing roots rock into a modern era.

Counting Crows – “Amy Hit The Atmosphere”

If this came out in 2021, it would probably be called Americana, but we love how these guys were a mainstream rock band with just the right balance between raw and polished. That’s never truer than on this song from This Desert Life, with the way the band uses atmospheric sounds to support the lyrics.

Maggie Rogers – “Overnight”

This song is a perfect example of how ambient electronic sounds that you can’t really put your finger on really round out and enhance a song that has organic vocals and drums.

Dawes – “Don’t Send Me Away”

One of the under appreciated elements of ’70s Americana will always be the impeccable groove of the rhythm section. Dawes carries this same torch, along with subtle but innovative guitar work, and brilliant songwriting, to become one of our bands favorite bands.

The War on Drugs – “Pain”

Adam Granduciel’s guitar work and songwriting harkens back to the way the ’80s musicians blended the rootsy style before them with modern instrumentation. The War on Drugs unashamed use of drum machine sounds and reverb rich guitar tone creates a cool and nostalgic sonic landscape.

Blue Water Highway – “All Will Be Well”

This is a song about the true meaning of hope, and it uses the synth/acoustic dichotomy as a way to contrast the spiritual with the material, how those realities both rub up against each other and work together. At times it feels like a rickety old space ship, and is one of our favorite examples of this sound in our original music.

Blue Water Highway – “Sign Language”

This is our original song about finding communication, calm, and understanding in the midst of chaos and confusion. The soundscape has many “space ship” elements that evoke communication, i.e. synthesizer and drum machine, which are contrasted with the organic sounds of the harmony vocals, guitar, and drum set.

Photo credit: Cal & Aly

BGS 5+5: Northcote

Posted on by Editor

Artist name: Northcote (Matt Goud)
Hometown: Carlyle, Saskatchewan, Canada
Latest album: Let Me Roar (out October 23, 2020)
Personal nicknames (or rejected band names): Matt, Big Cat, Coat

Which artist has influenced you the most … and how?

I was playing solo shows in cafes while in a full-time hardcore band, that’s how it started for me. When the band broke up I moved out west and during that first year of playing solo I would cover Gillian Welch, Chuck Ragan/Hot Water Music and Brian Fallon/The Gaslight Anthem songs in my set. I remember learning Petty and Springsteen songs to fill my set for when I was singing in tourist bars. You can play “The Waiting” and “Dancing in the Dark” for a long time on a Monday night to help nudge along a three-hour set. The artist that has influenced me the most in the last ten years is Dave Hause. He has taken me on the road many times and I have got to see his energy and passion for the job. He plays with the urgency and respect that it could all go away and I admired that because he was/is right. Gillian Welch is the songwriter I come back to the most often and whose records I feel most at home with. John Moreland in the last bunch of years is like that for me as well. Finally, I was in grade 5 or 6 when Shania Twain’s hit songs began to come out and I did perform them lip-synching in school.

What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?

It must have been 2010 or so, maybe earlier. I was playing on my first release as Northcote and was out east in Saint John, New Brunswick. It is a small city and I think I’ve only been back once since. It’s near Fredericton where we usually stop on tour. The venue that day had an alley entrance with brick walls on either side of the alley. The room had a low ceiling and seemed like a small abandoned store. I remember there were things left behind on the floor like folks had left in a hurry. The walls were white and blue like sky. I don’t remember if there was a PA or not. We were packed in the place about 25 of us singing along as I played through my first EP and the singalongs were quite loud. I was surprised and I felt lost and at home all at once. At that time everyone present was a beginner and we were all just giving it an honest try and that is a very sacred place to be in my opinion.

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

Before bringing my attention to working as a musician I was studying at a religious college training to be a minister. Over the years the sense of poetry from scripture has stuck with me. I’ve gone from the poems of Thomas Merton to Rumi to listening to Ram Dass then back full circle now. In my twenties I explored more angular and art house influences which are still refreshing at times, but less influential these days. I think my answer is religious devotional writing? My god. For more context, my recent influences are Lovecraft Country (TV), Anderson .Paak’s album Ventura, and Miley Cyrus’ “Slide Away.” The two books open on my desk are Teachings of the Christian Mystics and Thich Nhat Hanh’s How to Connect.

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

When we were making Let Me Roar, each morning before I took a shower I would put on the album Trance Friendz by Ólafur Arnalds and Nils Frahm. After that I went to the yoga mat to do some work then made coffee and had a few cigarettes. We had boiled eggs most mornings with bagels. After the work day we made dinner together in the kitchenette and watched the hockey playoffs or a lesser-known horror film. During one film the lead character ate a chicken wing out of the fridge after finding a deceased person. The character said, “Honey garlic, I love it.” From then on in the studio, after describing something we would say, “I love it” in honor of the horror film character.

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

I was invited to perform at the Alianait Arts Festival in Iqaluit, Nunavut, a few years back. I wasn’t feeling very good those days and the opportunity to go up North was a bright light for me and is a precious memory that I will never forget. One night up North there was a dinner party hosted by folks in the community. There was a spread of local food and I can’t remember what all was served, but I tried some and enjoyed the warmth and hospitality. There was boxed wine on the rocks and we saw the evening sun. One of those nights some people from the festival invited me to a hall where musicians from the festival were sitting in a circle singing and laughing and telling stories. Since that trip up to play the festival, my wife and I have moved, I quit drinking, we made the new Northcote record and I found meaningful work at my day job in Victoria.

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6Ha8VdD55SEGNJcKWiUAhM?si=IkUWvU1GR6OGDOnMt8ul1g

Photo credit: Matt Postal

BGS Long Reads of the Week // June 26

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

The BGS archives are simply a wealth of rootsy reading material. Each week we share our favorite longer, more in-depth articles, stories, and features to help you pass the time — summertime, COVID-19 time, or any ol’ free time you might have! We post our #longreadoftheday picks across our social media channels [on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram]. But of course, if you get ’em all right here in our weekly collection, that’s fine too!

This week’s long reads are about revitalization, reverence, rainbows, and real wisdom.

John Moreland Figures Out How to Love Music Again

We love a long read, yes, but we definitely love a birthday more! On Monday, we combined the two (as we do), celebrating Oklahoma singer/songwriter John Moreland’s day-of-birth with a revisit to our February interview about his latest album, LP5. While some listeners may have found the record to be something of a departure for Moreland, for his part, the “out there” elements of the music are what helped him learn to love creating again. [Read more]

Ricky Skaggs – Toy Heart: A Podcast About Bluegrass

Yes, this is a podcast, so technically this is a long listen rather than a long read, but we have good reason. Four years ago this week, Dr. Ralph Stanley passed away. As more and more of our bluegrass forebears leave us, their memories are even more important. On a recent episode of Toy Heart, hosted by Tom Power, Ricky Skaggs shared stories of his time with Ralph, the Clinch Mountain Boys, and Keith Whitley. It’s worth a listen to honor one of the most pivotal popularizers of this music. [Listen to the episode]

Way Above the Chimney Tops: A Pride Celebration of “Over the Rainbow”

Pride month is always full of rainbows, but never enough roots music! A couple of years ago we collected a handful of our favorite folky, country, bluegrassy, rootsy, ukulele-strumming renditions of “Over the Rainbow” to celebrate Pride month and each year since it’s been well worth a revisit. What cover of “Over the Rainbow” is your favorite? Did it make the list? [Read & listen here]

Counsel of Elders: Blind Boys of Alabama’s Jimmy Carter on Singing From Your Spirit

One quote from our 2017 interview with Blind Boys of Alabama founding member Jimmy Carter is enough to confirm this edition of Counsel of Elders’ excellence: “People ask me, ‘You’ve been doing this for almost seven decades, what keeps you going?’ I tell them, ‘When you love what you do — and we love what we’re doing — that keeps you motivated.'” 

You’re going to want to read the rest! [Read the full interview]

Photo of John Moreland: Crackerfarm
Photo of Blind Boys of Alabama: Jim Herrington

BGS Long Reads of the Week // May 1

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

It’s gonna be… May! Welcome to a new month of long reads, where each week we look back into the BGS archives for some of our favorite content from across the years. If you haven’t yet, follow our #longreadoftheday series on social media [on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram] and as always, we’ll put all of our picks together right here at the end of each week.

Our long reads this week are southern rock and blues, bluegrass and rock and roll, Americana and country, and a dash of… hard-to-put-a-finger-on-it, too. Read on:

Marcus King: A “Young Man’s Dream” Come to Life

A cover story from earlier this year, our conversation with 23-year-old singer/songwriter/guitarist Marcus King digs deep into the creative processes that shaped his debut album, El Dorado — his first project outside of his critically acclaimed group, The Marcus King Band. With Dan Auerbach producing and an absolutely stacked roster of studio musicians, the project came together “on the fly,” yes, but that turned out to be a pretty natural pace. [Read the entire interview]

Canon Fodder: The Flying Burrito Brothers, The Gilded Palace of Sin

Given the canonization of Gram Parsons over the last few decades, as well as the gradual breakdown of genres and styles over time, it’s easy to forget just how contrarian it would have been for a West Coast rock band to embrace country and bluegrass. But that’s exactly what the Flying Burrito Brothers did. This edition of Canon Fodder explores their first album, The Gilded Palace of Sin, which despite its near-flop at the time of its release is perhaps their most important work. [Read more]

Linda Ronstadt Talks Bluegrass

One of the most important vocalists/artists in rock and roll and popular music over the last century, Linda Ronstadt also knows a thing or two about bluegrass — as evidenced in this 1996 interview from Bluegrass Unlimited magazine. We pulled this fascinating article out of the BU archives to commemorate the release of the documentary film, Linda Ronstadt: The Sound of My Voice last year. It’s a two-parter, so we spread it out over a couple of days this week!
[Read part one] [Read part two]

John Moreland Figures out How to Love Music Again

Turns out there are drawbacks to any career – even when it’s your dream job – and you can confirm that with dark-folk and Americana favorite, John Moreland. The Oklahoman singer/songwriter released his latest album, LP5, earlier this year. The project surprised some listeners by exploring new sonic territory for Moreland — new territory that revived the spark that got Moreland into writing to begin with. [Read our conversation]