Tag: Johnny Cash

Dolly Parton Carries Childhood Memories Throughout Her Career

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Back through the years, I go wandering once again
Back to the seasons of my youth…

So begins “Coat of Many Colors,” which Dolly Parton frequently cites as the favorite song she’s written. That 1971 country classic is just one example of Parton’s ability to view the world through a child’s eye, whether she’s writing about her own life, placing a fictional young character in dramatic circumstances, or simply making a connection to a new generation of kids.

The newest example of this gift is Dumplin’ – a Netflix film where an overweight teenager finds solace in Dolly’s music. Leading up to the movie’s release, Parton released a duet version of “Here I Am” with Sia – an ironic choice, as the pop star is famous for singing with her back to the audience. But that anthem of self-declaration sets the tone for the Dumplin’ soundtrack, underscoring one of the reasons that a teenage girl would love Parton’s music in the first place. The heartfelt film is based on a young adult novel by Julie Murphy.

Seeing an early cut of Dumplin’ inspired Parton to write “Girl in the Movies,” a thoughtful song that finds her identifying with that very character — the “girl in the movies.” Parton told NPR that she wrote it for every little boy and girl. The song carries a strong message, she says: “Don’t just live in a fantasy of watching someone else live their lives. You star in your own role. You be the star of your own life.”

Parton has embodied that perspective for 60 years. In fact, 2019 is the 60th anniversary of the first time she released a song she wrote – in this case, “Puppy Love,” composed with her uncle Bill Owens. Parton was 11 years old when she wrote it, 12 when she recorded it, and 13 when it was released as a single on the tiny Goldband Records. She sang locally around Knoxville, Tennessee, and moved to Nashville on the day after she graduated from high school in 1964. Two years later and still chasing her dreams, she married Carl Dean, a lasting union that nonetheless yielded no children of their own.

Yet time and time again she incorporated a child into the storyline of her music. For example, in “Mommie, Ain’t That Daddy,” Parton sings from the perspective of a woman whose kids happen to see their father begging for money. In “Jeannie’s Afraid of the Dark,” Parton describes Jeannie as a child who feared burial; her duet partner Porter Wagoner then reveals that Jeannie dies. “Malena” is another doomed child who dies on the night of her birthday, finally receiving the set of wings she’d asked for.

By 1970, Parton had carved out a solo career in addition to her role on Porter Wagoner’s TV show. Her first No. 1 hit, “Joshua,” tells the story of an orphaned girl who hears about a mysterious man living a good ways down the railroad track. Curious, she seeks him out – and then promptly moves in with him. (“Why, you’re just what I’ve been lookin’ for!” she exclaims.) The poetic “Coat of Many Colors” arrived a year later, serving as a morality tale that still resonates decades later.

Parton employed that same autobiographical approach for “In the Good Old Days (When Times Were Bad),” a gem from My Tennessee Mountain Home. Reflecting on her childhood years, she sings, “No amount of money could buy from me the memories I have of them / No amount of money could pay me to go back and live through it again.” (Merle Haggard identified with the lyrics so much that he recorded a version, too.) Another of the compositions on that album is simply titled “I Remember” and finds her blissfully recalling those seasons of her youth. Of course, as she matured, so did her songwriting, most notably on poignant compositions like “I Will Always Love You,” “Light of a Clear Blue Morning,” and of course, “Jolene.”

Still, if you dig into her albums from this era, you’ll find songs like “Me and Little Andy,” about a poor girl and her dog who wind up on Dolly’s doorstep. She agrees to let them spend the night; by morning, the girl and the dog are both dead. Another one, “Mammie,” is about a midwife who raises a child after the mother dies at birth and then teaches the child to sing and play guitar — but Mammie herself doesn’t live to the end of song. “Silver Sandals” recounts the story of a disabled young girl who couldn’t walk; when she inevitably dies, Dolly and Porter imagine her happily walking up the golden stairs of Heaven.

On a brighter note, Dolly reminisces about a banjo picker she knew as a kid named “Applejack.” Almost like a precursor to Dumplin’, Parton composed “Shattered Image” about sitting on a bridge as a girl and throwing rocks into her reflection in the water. She compares the experience to the way people were shattering her public image as an adult. A 1979 album cut, “Nickels and Dimes,” is a co-write with her brother Floyd Parton, who died in December. While writing it, Dolly thought about how she’d open up her guitar case in downtown Knoxville as a young girl and busk in order to get enough quarters to buy hamburgers. By the time the song ends, she’s a star, but here’s how it begins:

“I used to stand on the corner and sing as a child
And I’d play my guitar and sing as the people went by
The sidewalks were crowded but I’d just sing louder ‘cause I didn’t mind
Spending my time, spinning my rhymes, and singing for nickels and dimes.”

Even beyond her musical output, Parton has kept a strong bond between herself and a younger generation. In 1986, she invested in a theme park in East Tennessee and rebranded it as Dollywood – a gift that keeps on giving, with new attractions added nearly every year. And it’s not all roller coasters. Parton’s mother sewed a replica of the fabled coat of many colors to display in the museum dedicated to Dolly’s life and career.

Nearly a decade later, Parton instituted the Imagination Library, where pre-school children receive a monthly book at no charge. To these lucky kids, Parton is known as “The Book Lady.” Meanwhile, “Coat of Many Colors” has been successfully transformed into a children’s book and an award-winning TV movie, in addition to being recorded by the likes of Eva Cassidy, Emmylou Harris, Joey & Rory, and Alison Krauss & Shania Twain.

When Parton was 70 years old, she secured a No. 1 country album with 2016’s Pure & Simple. One of the most charming songs on it is titled “I’m Sixteen,” where she sings, “It goes to show you’re never old / Unless you choose to be / And I will be sixteen forever / Just as long as you love me.” A year later she released her first-ever children’s album, I Believe in You.

As 2019 begins, Parton is in the spotlight again. On January 6, “Girl in the Movies” will compete for a Golden Globe award in the category of  Best Original Song in a Motion Picture. A month later, she will be recognized as the MusiCares Person of the Year at an all-star concert event, just a day before the Grammy awards. Along with celebrating her magnificent musical achievements, the presentation also acknowledges the fact that the Imagination Library has given out 100 million books since its inception. Parton is the first member of the Nashville music community to be honored at the annual MusiCares gala.

Way down in the fall, Parton will return to the Grand Ole Opry, celebrating the 50th anniversary of her induction in October. But her history to the Opry stretches about a decade before that. When she was 13, Parton and her uncle Bill Owens had lingered outside the Ryman to meet Johnny Cash. When he emerged, a starstruck Parton begged Cash to let her sing on stage – but it would take a while for this dream to be realized. In time, Opry star Jimmy C. Newman gave up his slot for her, although Cash handled the introduction that night. According to Parton’s autobiography, Cash told the audience, “We’ve got a little girl from up here in East Tennessee. Her daddy’s listening to the radio at home, and she’s gonna be in real trouble if she doesn’t sing tonight, so let’s bring her out here!”

Parton wrote about this career milestone in her book: “I know I had never heard a crowd cheer and shout and clap that way. And they were doing it all for me. I got three encores. This time I was prepared for an encore, but not three, not at the Grand Ole Opry. Someone told me later, ‘You looked like you were out there saying, “Here I am, this is me.”’ I was. Not just to that audience but to the whole world.”

Illustration: Zachary Johnson

BGS Top Books of 2018

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As we turn the page on another year, the Bluegrass Situation has compiled ten music-related books from 2018 that may appeal to fans of bluegrass, roots, classic country, and yes, even alt-country.

A&R Pioneers: Architects of American Roots Music on Record
Authors: Brian Ward and Patrick Huber
Some musicians just have that “it” factor – as true 100 years ago as it is today. This historical volume looks at the men and women who shaped raw talent for record labels as A&R (“artists and repertoire”) scouts. With an emphasis on roots music, the book focuses on important figures like Ralph Peer, Art Satherley, Frank Walker and John Hammond, as well as many less-celebrated figures. It also acknowledges that some of these A&R executives were not exactly virtuous. Authored by two professors, the project is jointly published by Vanderbilt University Press and the Country Music Foundation Press.

Bill Monroe: The Life and Music of the Blue Grass Man
Author: Tom Ewing
In addition to spending 10 years on the road as Bill Monroe’s bandleader and guitarist, author Tom Ewing may be the foremost expert on the Father of Bluegrass. At 656 pages, this biography ties together Monroe’s personal and professional life without glossing over the tougher times. Ewing writes with the knowledgeable bluegrass fan in mind, making this an especially rewarding book for students of bluegrass and those who are familiar with Monroe’s contemporaries. With hundreds of new interviews and rare access to Monroe’s archive, Ewing is able to build a comprehensive narrative that is likely to become the definitive account of an American music legend.

The Blue Sky Boys
Author: Dick Spottswood
Born and raised in North Carolina, the Blue Sky Boys emerged as one of the first and finest brother duos in country music. As teenagers, Bill and Earl Bolick riveted radio listeners in the Southeast with a stunning harmony blend. Earl sang baritone lead and acoustic guitar, while Bill sang tenor vocal and played mandolin, although their music was never fast and high like bluegrass. A deal with RCA Records in 1936 led to appealingly understated recordings such as “The Sunny Side of Life.” Drawing on archived interviews and Bill’s written accounts, this biography also compiles vintage photos and a complete discography.

Bluegrass Generation: A Memoir
Author: Neil V. Rosenberg
Author and historian Neil V. Rosenberg vividly recounts his own experiences with Bill Monroe and many other memorable characters at the Brown County Jamboree and the Bean Blossom Bluegrass Festival in the early 1960s. Through these recollections, Rosenberg shows how these seminal concert events helped solidify Bill Monroe as a bluegrass icon. Rosenberg’s scholarly reputation is already well-established, thanks to his prior books and the title of Professor Emeritus of Folklore at Memorial University of Newfoundland. Yet this volume is more personal, as it describes how an eager college student in Indiana became entrenched in bluegrass banjo and the festival scene.

Buffy Sainte-Marie: The Authorized Biography
Author: Andrea Warner
In February, Buffy Sainte-Marie will receive the People’s Voice award at Folk Alliance International in Montreal. Presented to an individual who unabashedly embraces social and political commentary in their creative work and public careers, the songwriter known for the poignant 1964 anti-war anthem “Universal Soldier” fits that description neatly. This approved biography portrays the Cree musician as an advocate for Indigenous rights, as well as a woman who endured a traumatic childhood and intimate partner violence. Feminist author Andrea Warner distilled more than sixty hours of original interviews into an insightful story that illuminates Sainte-Marie’s activism and art.

The Cash and Carter Family Cookbook: Recipes and Recollections from Johnny and June’s Table
Author: John Carter Cash
John Carter Cash is a foodie and it shows in this lovely cookbook dedicated to his parents, Johnny Cash and June Carter Cash. Family recipes abound, with the first two recipes being June’s biscuits and Mother Maybelle Carter’s tomato gravy. This isn’t all Southern cooking, however. Johnny and June also liked Asian flavors and vegetarian dishes, including their own veggie burger (a.k.a. Cashburger). The full-color photos are beautiful but the coolest pic is in the front, where the Man in Black presides over a barbecue wearing a white apron and shorts. His famous recipe for Iron-Pot Chili is in here, too.

Dixie Dewdrop: The Uncle Dave Macon Story
Author: Michael D. Dubler
Considered the first superstar of the Grand Ole Opry, Uncle Dave Macon is remembered as one of the finest banjo players of his era. This well-researched biography by his great-grandson, Michael D. Dubler, also captures the entertainer’s complex personality. Pulling from original and archived interviews, the narrative provides a detailed account of Macon’s recording output, as well as crucial personal moments, such as his father’s murder in Nashville. Because Macon’s career didn’t really take off until he was 50, the book also conveys just how much strength – both physical and emotional – it took for Macon to stick with it.

Dylan by Schatzberg
Author: Jerry Schatzberg
Bob Dylan seems the epitome of cool when gazing at the lens of photographer Jerry Schatzberg, who took innumerable pictures of him in the 1960s. Now in his 90s, Schatzberg has compiled personal stories and never-before-seen photos from that era for Dylan by Schatzberg. Inside, the enigmatic subject is documented in recording studios, concert stages, and city streets. For example, Schatzberg snapped the famously blurry Blonde on Blonde album cover in the Meatpacking District in Manhattan. Some believed it was a metaphor for drug use, but Schatzberg says it’s out of focus simply because both men were shaking in the cold.

John Hartford’s Mammoth Collection of Fiddle Tunes
Authors: Matt Combs; Katie Hartford Hogue; Greg Reish (Author), John Hartford (Illustrator)
One of acoustic music’s most treasured talents, John Hartford left behind a brilliant legacy that is ceaselessly resonant. This full-color book goes a long way to explain why generations of bluegrass fans continue to admire him. Co-authored by accomplished fiddler Matt Combs, Hartford’s daughter Katie Hartford Hogue, and musicologist Greg Reish, the volume expands beyond career landmarks like writing “Gentle on My Mind” and recording Aereo-Plane. Readers can also peruse 176 original compositions (some never before published), more than sixty of Hartford’s personal drawings, interviews with musicians who still consider him an essential player of American music, and Hartford’s own ruminations on playing the fiddle.

Waiting to Derail: Ryan Adams and Whiskeytown, Alt-Country’s Brilliant Wreck
Author: Thomas O’Keefe
Time has been kind to Whiskeytown’s 1997 album, Strangers Almanac, with country-tinged tracks like “16 Days” and “Yesterday’s News” paving the way for the Americana movement. (Back then it was usually called “alt-country.”) But why didn’t the band have more national success? This candid book written by their former tour manager makes it obvious that Ryan Adams didn’t care about playing nice to fans, venue owners, influential radio programmers or the music industry. Still, there’s an important scene where Adams silences a North Carolina club with “Avenues,” serving as a potent reminder of just how powerful his music can be.

Rosanne Cash Brings Urgency, Courage to ‘She Remembers Everything’ (2 of 2)

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On her new album, She Remembers Everything, Rosanne Cash keeps watching the clock. It’s an album about time slipping away, about the bittersweet realization that you have more time behind you than ahead. “It just wasn’t long enough,” she sings on the hymn-like “Everyone But Me.” “Still it seems too long.” And on “Many Miles to Go” she puts her affairs in order, itemizing the artifacts and inside jokes she shares with John Leventhal, her frequent collaborator, longtime producer, and husband of twenty-three years. With its rambling, almost anxious upbeat tempo, the song celebrates their relationship more than it commiserates its inevitable end: “There aren’t many miles to go and just one promise left to keep.”

However, she didn’t record that song with Leventhal, who produced roughly half the tracks on She Remembers Everything. He was, she says, shy about the song. Instead Cash traveled about as far from her home as she could, all the way from Manhattan to Portland, Oregon, to record with the album’s other producer, Tucker Martine. By disrupting her creative process, she says, “It did break something open in me.”

(Editor’s Note: Read Part 1 of the Bluegrass Situation’s interview with Rosanne Cash here.)

You’ve mentioned that these songs are very autobiographical. How does your relationship with these personal songs change over time? What is it like to revisit them onstage?

I played some of these songs for the first time just recently, and it felt good. I felt very relaxed with them. You know how the truth can unsettle you and scare you, but the truth can also allow you to let your guard down and relax? That’s how I felt. But it’s different every night. Every audience is going to bring something different to what they hear, and hopefully they will bring their own lives to it. They’re not coming to hear about my feelings or about my life. They’re coming to experience their own lives and their own feelings. They’re coming to have things reflected back to them that will be revealing or inspiring or whatever.

That’s the function of art. It’s that kind of service industry. We help you access your life and feelings. It’s not about narcissism. It’s not about me. That takes the fear out of it. These aren’t diaries; they’re songs. There’s craft that went into them. There’s music. There’s a beat and a melody. So I’m not going to be up there naked.

That leads me to another song I wanted to ask about, “Not Many Miles to Go,” which almost sounds like a letter you wrote to your husband.

I have a very tender feeling about that song because I really did write it for John — and to John. When you’re in a long-term relationship, it’s inevitable that one of you is going to leave the other. It’s sad, but it’s worth acknowledging the artifacts of your life together, even if it’s just a Telecaster. So you know when we’re gone, that Telecaster will still be here. Our son will probably play it. I wanted to document those things for us.

I like the idea we keep the beat for each other.

That’s a beautiful idea, and a close couple will do that for each other. When I wrote that line, I was thinking about the actual tempo when I play rhythm guitar for him. We have to remind each other to stay in time. I’ll tell him he’s too slow, or he’ll tell me my timing is off. He used to complain about my meter a lot, and then we did a gig with some other people a few years ago. When he came offstage, John said, “I’m never complaining about your timing again!”

How does he feel about the song? It’s really an intimate conversation in front of the audience.

I think John felt a little shyer about it than I did, but I think he’s gotten past that. And his guitar solo just kills me, especially that real Telecaster sound that he pulls off. It sounds like Clarence White or James Burton. When I wrote the song, it had more of a folk vibe, and then Tucker took it to this really intense place with a lot of energy to the arrangement. That was a bit of genius on Tucker’s part. It’s funny, I couldn’t have done that song with John. I had to do it with Tucker, and then we flew John’s solo into the track.

How did you end up working with Tucker Martine?

I’m a huge Decemberists fan, and he works with them. Then I heard the case/lang/veirs record he produced and I just loved it so much. I’d been thinking that I wanted to break away from John a little bit, because I felt I’d grown so dependent on him. He has very forceful opinions and it’s easy for me to acquiesce to his sensibilities because he’s such a gifted musician. I started thinking, you know, I need to be making those decisions, even if the choices are “wrong.” I need to do that. I called Tucker out of the blue and asked if he’d be interested in working with me. I truly didn’t know what he would say. Maybe I wasn’t his kind of thing.

But he said he’d love to and it was a matter of getting our schedules together. I was nervous, he was nervous — we didn’t know how it was going to work out. But it was this incredible experience, start to finish. I teared up many times, feeling so grateful to be working with him. It did break something open in me. After doing five tracks with Tucker, I came back to work with John and I felt fresh. We wrote some of the best songs I think we’ve ever written, like “Crossing to Jerusalem” and “Everyone But Me.” I had most of the lyrics for “The Undiscovered Country” and he wrote the music for it.

And you got The Decemberists frontman, Colin Meloy, on the record, too.

That was through Tucker. I was really shy about asking him and one day I just asked Tucker if he thought Colin would sing on the record. He thought he might, so he called him and Colin came down to sing on “The Only Thing Worth Fighting For.” While he was there, we snookered him into singing on “Rabbit Hole.”

Overall, on these songs, I get the sense of time running out. This seems to be an album about realizing that time is short and that creates a sense of urgency.

Well, time is running out. It’s an hourglass. It’s less than half-full now, and I feel an urgency about saying whatever else I have left to say. It’s really quite emotional to me. The regrets I have at the end of my life — except for the regrets I have about hurting anyone or mistakes I made as a mother — are going to be about what I didn’t say in my work, in my life. What I held back. So there is some urgency to get that out there, but I feel more liberated than ever because now my thinking is, what’s the point of not doing it or not saying it? This is the life I’ve chosen, to live in a public sphere and to be in this service industry of songwriting and performing. I don’t want to hedge my bets anymore.

Most people would rather not think about the time they have left and what to do with it. I know I’m guilty of that a lot of the time.

It’s painful, so that’s what we do: We push away what we don’t want to consider. Buddhists say death is certain, so how will you live? We push out the first part, and then we push out the second part to the extent that we default on our choices every day. We put the blinders on and think we have forever. I do not exempt myself from that. I do it, too. I say, “I’m going to wait to do that.” No. Can’t do it anymore.

When I heard Leonard Cohen’s You Want It Darker, that gave me a little more courage. Even the title of that Paul McCartney album from a few years ago, Memory Almost Full, struck me too. Paul and Leonard are obviously older than me, but they were signposts in that direction. I notice those things when they’re out in the world. I notice those pieces of poetry and music. I find myself responding to it more and feeling somewhat comforted by the fact that other people my age are doing it as well.

Photo of Rosanne Cash: Michael Lavine
Illustration: Zachary Johnson

Rosanne Cash Reveals Herself on ‘She Remembers Everything’ (Part 1 of 2)

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“This is an album for adults,” Rosanne Cash says of She Remembers Everything. “It’s not a kids’ record.”

The word kid of course is a subjective term. “I don’t think it would mean anything for someone who is 25,” she says. Maybe or maybe not, but by “adult” Cash is referring to the album’s perspective: the set of eyes through which she sees the world and writes her songs. It is the perspective of a woman in her early ’60s, with forty years in the music industry, as well an enviable catalog of critically acclaimed albums and mainstream country hits.

When she started writing and recording in the late 1970s, she was unmistakably recognized as the daughter of one of the most popular country artists in history, but what she inherited from him, aside from that iconic surname, is an appreciation for the well-crafted and sturdy pop song, for the wisdom such a thing might convey. During the 1980s she thrived in an industry that made room for left-of-center artists like Lyle Lovett and k.d. lang. Her 1981 smash “Seven Year Ache” remains a classic-country radio staple even today, and King’s Record Shop from 1987 is not only one of the finest country albums of that decade but a pivotal release that sent Cash hurtling into a second career in what we now call the Americana market.

Rather than try to maintain her mainstream success, Cash foregrounded her literary ambitions in the 1990s and in the mid-2000s launched a series of albums that addressed her origins — her career, her family, her South. Black Cadillac, from 2006, blazed rocky trails out of the grief of losing her mother (Vivian Liberto Cash Distin), her father (Johnny Cash), and her stepmother (June Carter Cash) — all too much tragedy to bear in such a short period of time. She put some of those lessons into play on 2009’s The List, featuring her own unique readings of songs made famous by her father. And 2014’s The River & the Thread, one of the best works of her career, is a travelogue through the South and into her own past.

She Remembers Everything sounds like a culmination of those dark, deeply personal ruminations. The songs are full of strong language, poetic and direct, but nothing that would demand a parental advisory sticker. There are intimations of sexual desire both fulfilled and unfulfilled, but nothing that would incur an R rating. There is no violence, but with a specificity that becomes harrowing, she depicts the horrific aftermath of violence, in particular a fatal shooting in “8 Gods of Harlem.” The story behind that long-dormant song begins the first of our two-part interview with Rosanne Cash.

I wanted to start by asking about “8 Gods of Harlem,” which seems like an outlier on the album. Not only does it feature Elvis Costello and Kris Kristofferson, but it’s also written explicitly from someone else’s point of view.

I wrote that with Kris and Elvis in 2008. It’s the oldest song on the record. I just had this idea to write a song with them, so I asked if they would be interested. And they both said yes. We’ve been friends for decades, and we figured out the only day we would all be in New York together was in April, so I wanted to get a lot done before they got here. I remember I had been going into the subway, and this Hispanic woman was coming out, and she seemed really distracted and sad. She was talking to herself, and I thought I heard her say “ocho dios.” She was coming off a train from Harlem, and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Why did she say that? Did she say that? I don’t really think so, but the phrase stuck with me.

I’ve worked in the anti-gun-violence movement for twenty years, and I just started writing that verse, about a child who was the victim of a shooting and how it shattered a lot more than just his life and his family, how it rippled out into the community. I sent that to Elvis and Kris, and when we got to the studio, I said, What if I was the mother? What if Kris was the father and Elvis was the brother? They finished writing their verses in the studio and we recorded it that day.

How did it end up on your album instead of one of theirs?

It was in the vaults, and periodically we would touch base. How are we going to get this song out into the world? Is it on your record this time? It didn’t fit on The River and the Thread. When I was working on this record, I asked them if they minded me including it, and they were both happy to have that happen. And it’s still relevant. It’s sadly a familiar scene. I was a bit worried that it would stick out from the other songs. It’s very different, this trio song. The subject matter on the other songs is really deeply personal, and this is the only one that is playing in character about a subject outside myself. But I think it works.

“She Remembers Everything” seems to be about trauma and its aftermath as well, albeit in a very different vein.

I wrote it with Sam Phillips. I sent her the lyrics, and she sent back this amazing melody. I wanted to write about how early trauma affects us, how some people spend the rest of our lives trying to repair it or ignore it or just squeeze your eyes shut against it. Who would you be if it hadn’t happened? How much more would your spirit have expanded out into the world if it hadn’t been truncated by this blow? That’s what that first line is about: “Who knows who she used to be before it all went dark.” You have to find things you can steal from the world, but in a good way: bouts of joy, moments of peace, a good relationship.

But I also feel like a lot of the time you’re getting the third degree from the world. This song comes out right after the Kavanaugh hearings, when a woman’s memory is questioned and discarded. Watching those hearings was very painful to me and to a lot of women I know. It was crushing, in fact. And I started thinking more about “She Remembers Everything.” A memory is like a library, and you can pull things off the shelf. Those memories are safe there, but they can cause a lot of turbulence. But women’s memories aren’t trusted. They never have been. You’re made to feel like you can’t be trusted with yourself, to make decisions about your body or your life or your memory. It just infuriates me.

That shows up again in “The Undiscovered Country,” when I say she went down for me. She knew she would be scorned and mocked, but she took that risk. So many women take that risk—the women in the #MeToo movement, the journalists who keep writing even though they’re threatened on a daily basis. All of these women go down for all of us, so the next generation doesn’t have to live with it.

I want to be hopeful, but there’s thirty years between Anita Hill and Christine Blasey Ford.

Me too. I thought progress went in one direction. Turns out it doesn’t.

How old are some of the other songs on the album?

“Particle and Wave” is several years old. But those are the only two that really go back further than the last two or three years of writing. I wrote “She Remembers Everything” with Sam Phillips leading up to this record. “Not Many Miles to Go” I wrote shortly before I started recording. “Crossing to Jerusalem” John and I wrote while we were recording. So the songs cover a little bit of a time span, but I’d say most of them are immediate.

This album title, She Remembers Everything, seems to tie everything together. Even those older songs, it’s all remembered.

Absolutely. I think I’ve been working up to these songs. They were the next logical step. They were what was behind the wall up till now.

How do you mean?

I don’t think I could have accessed these songs before now. I couldn’t have gone as deeply into the subject matter. It’s not a record a kid could have written. I couldn’t have written it ten years ago. The songs are all very autobiographical, and I’m not afraid to say that at this point. When I was younger, I would hedge my bets on that: Well, they’re universal. Whatever. No. This is all me.

(Editor’s Note: Read the she second part of Rosanne Cash’s interview.)

Illustration: Zachary Johnson
Photo of Rosanne Cash: Michael Lavine

The Gibson Brothers Still Call It Music, Just Not Bluegrass

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Featuring the stunning blood harmonies of days gone by and an abiding love for classic sounds, The Gibson Brothers long ago earned the respect of the bluegrass establishment – even scoring back-to-back wins as the International Bluegrass Music Association’s (IBMA) Entertainer of the Year in 2012 and 2013. Even so, they’ve always cultivated an adventurous spirit.

Having grown up on a dairy farm in the far north of New York State, sandwiched between the Adirondack Mountains and Quebec’s provincial border, their musical appetite was as varied as their home was removed from the bluegrass heartland – from Flatt & Scruggs to Celtic traditionals, and from Tom Petty and The Eagles to French-Canadian fiddle tunes. Throughout their two-decade recording career, The Gibson Brothers have subtly mixed bluegrass reverence with a hint of rock refreshment, but with their new album, Mockingbird, Eric and Leigh Gibson have taken a bold creative departure – at least for the time being.

Mockingbird’s 11 tracks still feature their celebrated close harmonies, but also pull heavily from the countrified world of late 60s/early 70s rock, all masterminded by producers Dan Auerbach (of The Black Keys) and David Ferguson (Johnny Cash’s American Recordings series). Freewheeling and fun, but also rooted in the crisp refinement of their past success, the boisterous rural funk of tracks like “Sweet Lucinda” stands alongside breezy Laurel-Canyon rock in “Cool Drink of Water,” while “Travelin’ Day” explores a trad-country template and R.E.M.’s seminal 90s hit “Everybody Hurts” becomes a swaying example of country R&B.

“The impetus behind the music was that we had done bluegrass our whole career, and when we got talking about the next record, we really just decided we didn’t want to do the same old thing again,” he explains. “It’s not because we were ashamed of what we were doing. We love what we do. There was no intention of anything. This all really happened naturally.”

“I think people love a band where they found them,” banjo-playing lead singer Eric Gibson adds. “But it was so exciting that we didn’t have time to think about ‘Oh, is this gonna upset people who are used to what we’ve done in the past?’ We just dove into the process and had a ball.”

Speaking with The Bluegrass Situation by phone, The Gibson Brothers dug into the inspiration for Mockingbird – and the creative avalanche that followed.

The obvious question here is “What made you want to get away from bluegrass?” But I feel like being from upstate New York might have had something to do with it. Is your approach to bluegrass a little different?

Leigh: We started learning how to play bluegrass when we were 11 and 12, and the guy who taught lessons at our local store played five-string banjo and guitar, among other things. Our father just happened to have both of those instruments, but he didn’t have a banjo because he was into Celtic music. So the guy we took lessons from taught Eric out of the Earl Scruggs method book, and I think that’s what pointed us in the direction of bluegrass.

Eric: Yeah, and once we heard Flatt & Scruggs it really drew us in, but if we hadn’t gotten into the Scruggs handbook, we probably would have played something else.

So what was the idea behind Mockingbird? Do you think of it as a rock and roll album?

Eric: There are definitely elements of rock and roll, but I hear country in it, too. I don’t know where it neatly fits. I’ve heard some people call it an Americana record, but on top of it all I hear the brother harmony. I think it’s that, weaving through a variety of styles.

Leigh: We wanted to do something different, and originally we had some tunes that didn’t fit neatly into the box of a bluegrass band. But we didn’t know we were gonna make a whole album. We were just looking to record some tracks.

Eric: And we ended up not recording any of the songs we were thinking about. We just wrote a bunch of new ones! … When we went to Nashville and started working with Dan Auerbach and David Ferguson, they asked us, “Do you wanna make a country record?” And we said, “Let’s just write songs and see what they need.” They handled the producing chores and did a beautiful job, and came up with sounds that I know I couldn’t have come up with.

You reached out to Ferguson to produce Mockingbird first, and I know he also engineered your first Nashville bluegrass album, Another Night of Waiting. Why was he at the top of the list for this project?

Leigh: [Laughs] Because he’s fun.

Eric: He’s a character and once you meet him you don’t forget him. We’d see him here or there and he’s been doing all kinds of big things in the last 20 years. He’s the one who engineered all those late-career Johnny Cash albums with Rick Rubin. He’s worked with U2, and lately he’s been working with Sturgill Simpson and Tyler Childers. We’d see him and he’d say, “Why don’t you come record some music with ol’ Ferg?”

Leigh: And I’d say “I don’t think we can afford you, Ferg.” And he’d be like, “You’re right, you can’t.” [Laughs]

Eric: But we were riding around DelFest on a golf cart with him in 2017 and he brought it up again, and by fall we were feeling a little restless. We kept listening to records that he worked on in the van, and I think Leigh was the one who said “Maybe we should call Ferg.” I said, “Why do you think I’ve been playing all these albums over and over again!”

So then Ferguson suggests bringing in Dan Auerbach from The Black Keys. Was that a surprise?

Leigh: I was floored, to be honest. Our manager called me and said, “Well, Ferg’s first action as your producer is to bring on another producer, and it’s Dan Auerbach.” [Laughs] So I called Eric and I couldn’t believe it.

Eric: What was funny was Leigh said, “Is this something you’d be interested in?” And I was like, “Duh!” This is the kind of thing that falls out of the sky and you have to go for it.

I read that the whole album was written and recorded in just a few days. Is that unusual for you?

Eric: Yeah, we’ve never worked like that before. … Every day it would be Leigh and Dan and me, plus one other writer. We didn’t go in with any melodies. I had a couple of lines jotted down but we hardly used any of those. A lot of it just came out of conversations we were having at Dan’s studio kitchen table, like “Travelin’ Day.” Dan said, “You know, Ferg lost his stepdad a few days ago,” and we got to talking about that. Ferg said, “He really showed us how it’s done. He was brave at the end.” We said, “Our dad was the same way.”

It’s interesting that you started off with something so heavy, because the album doesn’t come across heavy at all.

Eric: It’s not. That first song is pretty heavy, but there’s a lot of love songs on there, and we hadn’t written a lot of love songs in the past.

Leigh: Dan and Ferg showed us how to love. [Laughs]

“Love the Land” seems like a reference back to you roots on the farm. Where did that come from?

Eric: That was written with Joe Allen.

Leigh: With that song, obviously Eric and I have a background of shared memories, so we’re probably thinking about the same thing as we’re writing it. But Joe’s from Oklahoma and Dan’s from Ohio, so they’re thinking about different things. I remember talking to Dan and he said, “Man, I need to get outside more. I miss it.” It’s kind of funny that it’s wherever your head is at the time. If we sat down with the same guys tomorrow, something totally different would come out.

Eric: Dan loved that we kept showing up early. I’d apologize and Dan would say, “No, no, make yourselves at home.” So we’d go back to that kitchen area and he has this beautiful vinyl collection. We’d put on different records and I think sometimes they would influence the direction of the day. Like, that one has a very Don Williams feel, and I think we were listening to Don Williams that morning.

Why did you pull Mockingbird out of that song as the album title?

Eric: Just because that kept jumping out of my head. Joe came up with the line, something like “Mockingbird, if you haven’t heard / Never been a sound so sweet.” I loved that, so I actually Googled “mockingbird.” [Laughs] It turns out they can sing a variety of songs. They don’t just sing the same thing every day, and I thought “Wow, that’s kind of what we’re doing here.”

I’m sure you’ve been asked a million times, but did the cover of R.E.M.’s “Everybody Hurts” come out of left field?

Eric: Totally out of left field.

Leigh: Just before the last day of tracking, Dan said, “Think of a song from the 80s or 90s that everybody knows but no one would think of you doing.” So Eric and I talked about it on the way back to the hotel and came up with something by a female artist, and we got to the studio the next day and Ferg is like, “So what song did you choose?” We told him and he’s like, “Oh, I hate that song.” Allen Parker, who is Dan’s in-house engineer, said “Hey, how about ‘Everybody Hurts’?” I had heard the song – you couldn’t miss it if you’re a person my age – but I never in a million years would have thought about doing it. Those guys went and charted it, and it had such a comfortable, funky feel, that we were compelled to learn it.

Do you think your fans saw this album coming?

Eric: No. I mean, it’s a hard question. If they’ve really been paying attention to us over the years, it shouldn’t come as a big surprise because we’ve recorded stuff by Tom Petty and The Band and The Rolling Stones and Mark Knopfler. We have a variety of tastes.

Leigh: I think there are certain fans who see you as one thing, and if you do something else it can be upsetting, but no one twisted our arm to do this. It’s absolutely what we wanted to do and we’re proud of it, but we didn’t do this to offend anybody. If somebody is offended, there’s nothing we can really do about that except say, “Look at our track record and all this other stuff we’ve done that you really love. Why not give this a chance?”

Photo by Alysse Gafkjen

LISTEN: The Lied To’s, ‘Cruel World’

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Artist: The Lied To’s
Hometown: Boston, MA
Song: “Cruel World”
Album: The Lesser of Two Evils
Release Date: May 11, 2018

In Their Words: “‘Cruel World’ is a full-fledged ‘F-U’ to life and its misfortunes. It’s more than just angry in its lyrics; it’s downright ornery. Musically, it borrows from country music’s original angry songwriter — Johnny Cash. We spit out lines together, like, ‘Now I’m staring out the window to see what’s coming next, popping pills to ease my troubles, then go dealin’ with my ex’ in a raw blues harmony that sounds like a three-minute fiery exorcism.” — Doug Kwartler

Photo credit: Doug Kwartler

MIXTAPE: John Murry’s Southern Soundtrack

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When we needed a Mixtape selected for a Southern soundtrack, we knew John Murry was our guy. After all, he is related to William Faulkner.

The Connells — “Lay Me Down”

A song from a pair of North Carolina attorneys and their band about a child they knew who received a bicycle for his 11th birthday, rode it away from home on his own for the first time the next day, fell into a ditch, and broke both of his legs. It rained. The little guy slowly drowned as the water rose.

Lead Belly — “You Don’t Know My Mind”

Though he sang his way out of prison not once, but twice, I seriously doubt it was this song that he sang for his white captors to gain his release — a song now white-washed and remembered fully in circles that have kept a tradition alive, added meaning and mirth to his verses by adding theirs while reviving and performing his original verses. Kenny Brown is a legend in Mississippi. His earliest version, recorded for Fat Possum, is still a touchstone for me.

Furry Lewis — “Judge Harsh Blues”

Another song about law and (dis)order, written by a man who preferred to be known as the one-legged street sweeper of Beale Street in Memphis than a bluesman. The Rolling Stones and U2 both gave him gifts of expensive guitars while he was still alive, living at the top of Beale. He pawned both the day he got them. FTW. RIP, Furry. Universality? All arrestees will soon (or do now) know about 11 months, 29 days … I can’t sign my name either, Furry. I have never known it.

Vic Chesnutt — “Isadora Duncan”

To dream he was dancing with Isadora, the woman who unabashedly danced and — with a sash pulled by the dance and the dancer — first exposed her bare breast to a stupefied, stupefying, and puritanical public … and to write of that dream from a wheelchair. Dance on, Vic. What beauty, what timelessness, what a gift he gave us (though “we” weren’t ready, perhaps, to be exposed to his transcendent and righteous indignation and powerfully fragile poetry).

Big Star — “Holocaust”

In honour and in memoriam of LX Chilton and Chris Bell (though not on this recording), I intend to drop acid later today and report back to no one. Big Star did not simply pave the way for “jangly indie pop”; they created powerful, powerful music with the help of the legend that was Mr. Jim Dickinson (living on, mister!) despite the “obstacles” Ardent and an entire industry placed in their way. Memphis was dying, Elvis was dead, and those listening were “… a wasted breath, you’re a sad eye, you’re a holocaust.” Basketballs, deflated, served as percussion, as there’s no need for a formal drum kit (just ask Stephen Merritt — or anyone who stomps while singing — or any kid in a kitchen with pots and pans and wooden spoons) when heart, broken or bruised, and soul are captured on tape, just as living and gone ghosts on celluloid prints were. William Eggleston playing piano on “Sister Lovers”? Magic. All of it was magic. And this kind of magic terrifies. What happened to them in that place that necessitated this bit of “horror”? No one ever asks the right questions, I suppose.

Jim Dickinson — “Wild Bill Jones”

Jim was the moral compass Southern music needed after the Civil Rights Movement, after Elvis’s death, after Yankee A&R folks no longer visited Memphis — “the capital of Mississippi” — anymore in search of “that” thing the South breeds. The master had tamed the beautiful beast, or so the beautiful beast would have their “master” believe. Bob Frank wrote this one. Kinda. He’s the greatest songwriter you’ve never heard.

Lost Sounds — “Ship of Monsters”  (Not on Spotify)

Jay Reatard was an incredibly complicated person, a lover and a fighter, as sensitive as they come, capable of an empathy that can only lead — in our world — to those blood visions that took him from us too early. I slept most nights at the People’s Temple near the old 616, making prank calls with Jay and the Oscars, and playing shows as a fake straight-edge hardcore band while inebriated. This record was being recorded at the time in the space at the bottom of the warehouse. Scott Patterson and I would listen to “Scenic” on the roof. Abe and I would listen to “Art Bell” in the kitchen. Jay broke a fucker’s arm with a bass for trying to attack him (and us). To fear goodness is silly. But common now. Leaves many stranded. He fought. For me, this was a record that attacked the core of something I lived inside, the first to do so. It taught me. Jay and Alicja Trout are that decency and violence the world needed and still demands. A better vision. No wave. Wtf that means.

Johnny Cash — “Delia’s Gone”

So many have done this. Christ, he did it justice, though. There’s a chair, a gun, suspicion, paranoia, direct Biblical allusions, and death. There ya go.

O.V. Wright — “A Nickel and a Nail”

His life was cut short by heroin, and his career defined by an ever-lurking fear; but he sang of it so well — of the terror of a twilight existence.

Townes Van Zandt — “Waiting Around to Die”“

He wrote this song after he was married. His new bride came to collect him to go to their wedding reception. He needed to finish writing a song down. He did. This is it.

Bob Dylan — “Mississippi”

Written at Zebra Ranch in Mississippi, this song is one that tells a universal truth — at least for those of us from *that* universe. How does Bob know? Same place, different centuries … “I stayed in Mississippi a day too long,” and can’t figure out what sin I committed I must now atone for. He somehow knows place as decay. As stagnant water in motion.

Sparklehorse — “Rainmaker”

Mark Linkous … His life, his words, his melodies simply resonate with me and reverberate in eerie ways. The rainmaker IS coming. He wasn’t “like” Wm Blake; he was cut of the same cloth. Wm Blake was “like” him, too. How odd we are, to see time as distances measurable. “All you’ve got to do is look in the sky and wish.”

Neutral Milk Hotel — “King of Carrot Flowers Pt 2 & 3”

Jeff used to borrow my amp and wrestle — and bite — my 110-pound labrador. This song is one I think I knew before I heard it. It’s that brilliant. “… and dad would dream of all the different ways to die.”

Reigning Sound — “Can’t Hold On” (Not on Spotify)

If ever a man was born out of time, it’s Greg Cartwright. Just listen.

From BGS with Love: Non-Crappy Christmas Songs

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Cynical though it may sound, a lot of holiday music is pretty crappy. Just turn on your local soft rock radio station and try withstanding the onslaught of ratings-boosting renditions of “Rudolph” that, these days, seem to begin sometime around Halloween. Save for “Feliz Navidad,” a couple of Carpenters’ tunes, and anything by Bing Crosby, it all pretty much sucks.

To the rescue we come with our exclusive playlist of Non-Crappy Christmas Songs.

We like this list because it has a little of everything: heartbreak, humor, sentiment, and sadness — plus a performance by one of the great folk artists of all time … Kermit the Frog. So, kick back and let Joni Mitchell and Johnny Cash, Brandi Carlile and Burl Ives serenade your holidays.

For those of you who like your carols a little more on the country side of the street, the ginormous Ultimate Country Christmas Playlist we did last year rocks pretty steady.

Photo credit: ginnerobot via Foter.com / CC BY-SA

Best of: Grand Ole Opry

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When I think of country music, I think of the Grand Ole Opry. As far as I’m concerned, the two are synonyms. What began as the WSM Barn Dance radio show in 1925 has grown into an entire entertainment experience (their YouTube even has style videos), and solidified Nashville as the Country Music Capital. With its rich history, it is no wonder that aspiring country and bluegrass musicians across the globe dream of making an Opry debut. Here are five performances from “country’s most famous stage” for your enjoyment:

Johnny Cash — “Ring of Fire”

Let’s start off with this throwback video of Johnny Cash performing one of his most famous songs, “Ring of Fire,” at the Ryman Auditorium in 1968. While Cash had a tumultuous relationship with the Opry — and was even banned from the show for a period of time in the middle of his career — there is no doubt that his music is always a treat to listen to.

Carson Peters & Ricky Skaggs — “Blue Moon of Kentucky”

While the Opry is an integral part of country music’s rich history, it also ensures a bright future for country music by recognizing young talent. In this 2014 video, then 10-year-old Carson Peters, joined by seasoned Opry member Ricky Skaggs, breathes new life into Bill Monroe’s “Blue Moon of Kentucky.”

Alison Krauss & Jamey Johnson — “My Dixie Darlin’”

Every time Alison Krauss and Jamey Johnson make music together, the result is magical. While Johnson holds down the lead vocals beautifully on this stripped-down rendition of the Carter Family classic, “My Dixie Darlin’,” Krauss’s sweet harmonies and fiddle playing are icing on the cake.

Merle Haggard — “Workin’ Man Blues”

Country music legend Merle Haggard never became an Opry member, but he did perform there many times during his long career. Here, Haggard sings his anthem for the working class, “Workin’ Man Blues,” on the Opry in 1977. Make sure to stick around untill the end to catch an amazing guitar solo!

Steven Curtis Chapman & Ricky Skaggs — “What a Friend We Have in Jesus”

Many musicians across various genres have recorded and performed the old Christian hymn “What a Friend We Have in Jesus,” but this rendition by Steven Curtis Chapman and Ricky Skaggs is my favorite, by far. Chapman and Skaggs deliver the song with a certain tenderness that pairs perfectly with the already comforting lyrics of the song.

3×3: India Ramey on Drinking Caffeine, Deviling Eggs, and Enjoying Life

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Artist: India Ramey
Hometown: Born in Rome, GA, but I claim Birmingham, AL
Latest Album: Snake Handler
Personal Nicknames: “Indie.” My grandaddy called me that. My sisters called me “Tush” (long story) and “Indiana Banana Copa Cabana.” There are many more, but in the interest of brevity …

 

#womansmarchonwashington

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What song do you wish you had written?

“Hold On Hold On” by Neko Case

Who would be in your dream songwriter round?

Jason Isbell, Neko Case, Loretta Lynn, and Johnny Cash.

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

Neko Case. Without question.

 

My plans for the evening #mrbaby #bobsburgers #snoozefest #motherofkittens

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How often do you do laundry?

Does that in include pulling stuff out of the dirty clothes bin and fluffing it in the dryer with a fabric softener sheet? Not often enough, clearly.

What was the last movie that you really loved?

Kill Bill (both)

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

Last year. I would have spent less time worrying and more time enjoying it.

 

Woa!! I made the Nashville Scene! That’s me to the left of the chicken!

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What’s your go-to comfort food?

Biscuits.

Kombucha — love it or hate it?

I had to Google that. If it’s got caffeine, I’m out.

Mustard or mayo?

Both. You can’t make a decent deviled egg without both.

Photo credit: Greg Roth