Tag: joni mitchell

The Expansive Universe of Hiss Golden Messenger

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Next year, singer and songwriter MC Taylor will have been leading Hiss Golden Messenger for two decades. For most of that time, critics and listeners have relied on a few familiar narratives about Taylor: that he is a singular figure, for example; or that his move from California to Durham, North Carolina, marked a formal shift from punk to Americana; or even that he thinks slightly more than he feels. Talking to Taylor, from his home in Durham (well, there was a Zoom call involved), I found these cliches about his practices were limiting, factually accurate but emotionally untrue.

Instead of laser-focusing on one narrative, on telling the same stories over and over again, listening to Taylor speak, I encountered a new understanding of his practice, one which placed Taylor in the background and moved his bandmates and genre-play into the foreground – shifting from the centrality of a singular figure to a greater emphasis on generosity and expansiveness.

That the new album is called I’m People is the first clue that Taylor wants to expand the perception of his music; it’s a title that considers mutuality as central to the enterprise of musicmaking. So, how does one expand this thinking – one could consider him geographically or complicate these tales of origin, or think about who is playing on this record, or even refuse the standard narratives of genre.

Instead of focusing on the fact that Taylor began playing in hardcore bands in California, think about the other influences: that he played in a band named after Joni Mitchell’s Court and Spark, an album marked by an urbane distrust of other people’s desires. Or that, around the time he was carefully listening to Mitchell, he was also following that most American portable utopia, the Grateful Dead. Or think about his move to Durham, not strictly to play in a band, but to study folk music academically.

Or, consider how this album was recorded – at least partially – in upstate New York. A more cynical writer would note that Taylor borrows from Dylan’s Nashville Skyline, and that album itself was the foundation of a more isolated, lonely understanding of tradition after abandoning folk music, seeking a slightly more commercial understanding. Recording this in the Hudson Valley could be considered a pilgrimage or homecoming.

I don’t think that it is a homecoming just for Taylor; the record sounds lush, expansive formally, too. Perhaps because the people who sing or play on this record play in a collective of other bands, including Rhett Miller, the Mountain Goats, Bonny Light Horseman, and the Hold Steady.

The expansive nature of the band is not only connected to the history of music they listen to, or the other bands that they play in, but also more unexpected influences like Sade. The idea that Taylor is the band is false, and it is not even that Hiss is the band. Taylor expands the possibility of Hiss, but Hiss itself pushes the possibilities – because of where they come from, their other projects, and even the possibility of geography. Not because Durham is magically a place where music coalesces, but because for a long time it was a college town where rent was relatively cheap and lots of people liked playing music together.

When addressing genres, the promotional material calls the album Americana – but Americana is a useless category, one which might be country or folk or something else entirely. I’m People has a kind of intense richness that is neither of these genres. Listening to the LP, something happens where the expansion or fracturing of those playing on this record becomes its own kind of post-genre.

There are a lot of reasons not to love America right now, but emphasizing the American instead of Americana allows us to consider this album as a consequence of the totality of American music – Taylor addresses the improv nature of jazz as part of this, or traditional folk music, or even 1970s easy-listening. He speaks fondly of the detective novels of Elmore Leonard, and on at least one of his early albums the photography of William Gedney became a powerful totem.

I think of I’m People as a kind of ebbing and flowing for and against tradition, part of that decades-long wrestling with aesthetics and history. Consider the last song, “Depends on the River,” is another of his great songs about waterways. In a 2016 profile of Hiss, New Yorker critic Amanda Petrusich wrote about Hiss’s long tradition of river songs and how it fits into a century of metaphors from blues singer Geeshie Wiley to Joni Mitchell, working this tradition. Petrusich writes: “Taylor frequently evokes river imagery in his work; the river, of course, can be understood as its own kind of road, a direct line to somewhere else, far away.”

I don’t know if that’s wrong, but I also think about rivers as they turn into oxbow lakes, rivers which flow into swamps – literally bogged down – rivers that flow into oceans, and rivers that dry up depending on the season. Hiss’s meandering, deepening quality depends on that river, both the direct line that Petrusich talks about and the larger metaphor, one where Taylor literally talks about whether he dares to cross it. On I’m People, he not only crosses it and crosses it again, but brings along a whole community of other performers. And, an audience who is hungry for the difficulty and ambivalence of so much time playing – and thinking – with him, to the other side.

I know you have a degree in folklore studies, I also noticed that in the last few years there has been a cluster of second- or third-generation performers who have some academic training in folk traditions (see also: Jake Blount, Jake Xerxes Fussell, Willi Carlisle, etc.). Can you talk a little bit about the kind of intersection of formal and informal folk studies and also about your relationship to people who are making this kind of work? I’m thinking about the line on the song “Mercy Avenue” where you talk about the “boys on the corner knowing more than those with PhDs.”

MC Taylor: Well, it’s been a really long time since I was in the academics here. And that universe was one that I feel like I passed through briefly. I wasn’t destined to be in that realm forever. So, I’m not sure that I can totally speak to [that]. Like the place of academic/creative work.

I will say that my time in that space was a really good time for me, when I was restarting my brain and re-centering myself. School was a good way for me to step away from whatever I had been doing previously. I did a lot of field work at that time. I interviewed a lot of people, and I think that it made me a much better listener.

I think that, more than anything else, [that] is what I came away with, this feeling that people really, really like to be heard. So I think I just really tried to develop my listening skills.

Can you talk a little bit about working with a band – especially this band – and about how the bandmates are part of their own creative worlds? Is there a kind of politics there, or a kind of community making?

The basic tracking of the album was done with JT Bates playing drums and percussion, Cameron Ralston playing bass – both electric and upright – and Josh Kaufman, who was producing the record with me, playing guitars, mandolin, piano. My friend Chris Boerner was engineering the record. He plays guitar.

The road version of Hiss Golden Messenger, you know, [are] involved in a whole variety of things. JT, Cameron, and Josh play in Bonny Light Horseman. All three of them have also at various times been members of Hiss and have toured with Hiss. And in fact, that’s where those guys met – playing in Hiss. All of us have known each other for many, many years, so I consider those guys really good friends.

But we’ve never made a Hiss Golden Messenger record before. … They’ve worked on [other] records [together], but we never came together to create a Hiss Golden Messenger record together. It was this funny and unique situation in which we were already old friends, doing something that felt new and fresh. It didn’t feel like a complicated record to make for me. I think Josh Kaufman maybe would say the same thing, but Josh was performing sort of a different task than I was in the situation. It was a complicated record to write, but that was something of the solitary endeavor that took place over probably a year or a year and a half.

I really love those guys and I am delighted that they could be there to play on the record. I think of them as absolute top-tier musicians, every one of them. Cameron is currently playing with the Mountain Goats, he plays all kinds of jazz, he plays in the Spacebomb House Band. JT Bates plays drums with Big Red Machine, which is Aaron Dessner and Justin Vernon. And [he’s] just a legendary drummer in Minneapolis. Josh Galvin plays with everybody.

There are some songs on this album about hope and I wondered about making work about hope in this specific social and political moment? “Shaky Eyes” or “Heavy Worlds,” for example.

[I am interested] in how we [have] the energy to get through the messiness of life. And not only this particular time that we’re living through – although that is the most depressing. But just like life in general. I don’t think that we can do – or I don’t think I can do – life alone. So, in a way this record is me writing to myself. Maybe now [about] how important other people are.

I think I realized that the most important part is moving through, and needs to involve being around [other people]. Over the past few years, just speaking personally, the idea of community has felt like a more and more important part of it.

Thinking about that – and how dense/lush the production here is – though you are marketed as “Americana,” I wonder about how you view genre. And also how your band does – I’m thinking about background vocalist Annie Nero’s bio for radio: “She loves to find the common thread between musical ideas and genres…but also break free of genres because life’s too short to limit ourselves based on perceived taste!”

I listen to lots of different stuff. I think all of that stuff finds its way into what I’m doing. It’s a little tricky. I used to have a stronger stay-in-your-lane [attitude] about the term “Americana,” but I just don’t think that I care very much anymore. It’s not a word that I generally use. But I understand why it exists. Many of my favorite songwriters exist in that world.

What would you call your genre then?

I mean, I wouldn’t. I guess that’s what I’m saying.

Like, if I was at the dog park and I was talking to a stranger, and they said, “Oh, you’re a musician? What kind of music do you play?” I’d probably say, “Kind of rock and roll.” I generally am not describing my music in terms of genre, I guess. If I told someone that I played rock and roll, and they asked me to extrapolate on that, I would say something like, “Rock and roll that’s really swinging.” I try and concentrate on the rhythmic elements. I love singer-songwriter type music from the ’60s and ’70s. I like really oddball stuff. I love Bruce Ruffin reggae; I love free jazz. There’s a lot of music that I have inside of me. There’s a lot of music that Josh, Cameron and Chris – [that] we all have inside of us. I think it’s just a question of how we get it out and put it into use in a way that feels genuine and not forced. …

Thinking about the tension on this album between distinct geographical spaces and a more universal emotions – for example on “Seneca (Time is a Mother, Baby)” or “Mercy Avenue.” And also that becomes a larger theme of your work, thinking about how Amanda Petrusich writes about your decades-long commitment to writing about rivers. There’s even the river song on this album. What do you think your relationship is to the land, to rivers – especially. when you sing “Depends on the River.” Or is there specifically one river?

On previous Hiss records there are specific geographical places like city names mentioned. And not only are those places part of the fabric of the story that I’m trying to tell, but they sort of served as poles, maybe? What I’m trying to accomplish is sort of like a poetic travelog of my life growing up in America. I’ve been traveling as a musician since I was 18. I have been, it seems like, everywhere in this country – more than once or some places 10 times. I’ve been all over every highway. So, maybe the dimension of place names throughout is sort of like carving my name on a tree or something. It’s just kind of like, “I was here.” “This is where we are in this song right now.” “This is where we are in my life.” And then, “Now we’re over here.”

In terms of rivers, a river is always flowing, always changing. A river can kill you if you’re not careful. It can keep you alive and get you to the next place if you treat it with respect and understand its rules. The coda on that song, [“Depends on the River”], the last thing that we hear on the record is “the line depends on the river exactly.” I guess the meaning depends on what river of life we’re talking about. It depends how lucky we get.

I’ve always been impressed by the wide range of your reading, listening, and looking. For example, your careful thoughts on the photos of Gedney. What are you reading, what are you listening to, what are you looking at these days?

Well, you know what I’m reading right now? I’m like about 200 pages into this Gary Stewart biography. Gary Stewart, the country singer. It’s called I Am From the Honky-Tonks. Gary Stewart actually was someone that Chris Smith from [record label] Paradise of Bachelors turned me onto like 15 to 16 years ago. Those of us that are obsessive about him all knew that this book was coming. It’s finally out and yeah, if you’re Gary Stewart fan, it’s kind of like you can’t believe it exists. I’ve been waiting for it.

In terms of what I’m listening to, I’m always listening to all kinds of stuff. I just bought this record [that’s] The Sun Ra Arkestra doing Disney themes. It’s so beautiful, really makes you think about those compositions in a different way, [about] actually how deep they are. I’ve been revisiting some Ted Lucas. I’ve really been liking this McCoy Tyner record called Asante. It’s a 1974 record; might be my current favorite. It’s very deep in the zone with like Alice Coltrane and Pharoah Sanders – that era. Oh, it’s beautiful. [I’ve been listening to] some Paul Brady from ‘78. He’s amazing! I’ve been listening to Welcome Here Kind Stranger. [Also] a record that I was checking out for a while [was] by the Universal Liberation Orchestra. It’s kind of this weird, very minimal– I guess it would be jazz.

Photo Credit: Graham Tolbert

FARHOF’s Roots That Built the Hall Playlist

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Located inside the historic Wang Theatre and founded by the Boch Center, the Folk Americana Roots Hall of Fame is Boston’s premier cultural and educational initiative dedicated to celebrating America’s rich musical heritage. Since its launch in 2019, FARHOF has honored the artists, songs, and movements that have shaped folk, Americana, and roots music while creating immersive exhibits, educational programming, and live experiences that connect audiences to the stories behind the sound. Guided by iconic artists and industry leaders, the Hall exists to honor the past, celebrate the present, and nurture the future of these genres.

On March 24, 2026, FARHOF will host its 2026 Induction Celebration at the Wang Theatre, an unforgettable evening recognizing the artists and industry leaders who helped build the foundation of folk, Americana, and roots music. This year’s honorees, whose collective achievements include 30 GRAMMY Awards and countless other accolades, represent the influence and ongoing evolution of the genres we preserve.

Our playlist theme, Roots That Built the Hall, celebrates the legacy and influence of this year’s inductees. Each song reflects the innovation and cultural impact of the artists who shaped Folk and Roots music, reminding us why this music endures and continues to inspire. – Denise Arellano, The Boch Center

“(I’m Your) Hoochie Coochie Man” – Muddy Waters

Muddy Waters electrified the Delta blues and carried it into the urban North, shaping the sound of modern roots music. This track demonstrates that blues roots continue to inspire folk and Americana, exemplifying the music and legacy the Folk Americana Roots Hall of Fame celebrates.

“Chain of Fools” – Aretha Franklin

Aretha’s voice bridges gospel, soul, and rhythm & blues, reminding us that roots music is inseparable from the Black musical traditions that shaped America. Her artistry embodies FARHOF’s mission to celebrate music as both cultural expression and social force.

“Suzanne” – Leonard Cohen

With poetic lyricism and folk instrumentation, Cohen represents the storytelling tradition central to folk music. His work highlights how intimate songwriting can shape national culture and influence generations to come.

“Make Me A Pallet On Your Floor” – Mississippi John Hurt

Hurt’s fingerpicking style and oral storytelling roots in this country blues standard echo the preserved histories and rare artifacts celebrated within FARHOF’s exhibits.

“My Journey To The Sky” – Sister Rosetta Tharpe

Blending gospel and the electric guitar, Sister Rosetta Tharpe helped lay the groundwork for rock ‘n’ roll. Her inclusion reflects FARHOF’s commitment to honoring artists whose innovations continue to ripple across genres.

“Running on Empty” – Jackson Browne

A pillar of folk and Americana, Browne captures the restless spirit of life on the road. His songs blend roots traditions with raw, lived experience, shaping the sound and soul of a generation.

“Both Sides Now” – Judy Collins

A defining voice of the 1960s folk revival, Collins helped bring reflective and socially aware songwriting to the mainstream. Her work showcases the genre’s power to spark dialogue and deepen cultural understanding.

“Harvest Moon” – Neil Young

Young’s blending of folk intimacy and country influence illustrates the fluid evolution of roots music. Songs like this show how tradition can feel timeless while still speaking to contemporary audiences.

“The Last Thing on My Mind” – Tom Paxton

Paxton’s songwriting embodies the heart of the folk process, simple melodies carrying profound emotional truth. His legacy reinforces FARHOF’s mission to preserve the craft of storytelling through song.

“Urge for Going” – Tom Rush

Rush played a pivotal role in championing emerging songwriters and expanding the Boston folk scene. His work connects directly to FARHOF’s educational spirit by nurturing future generations while honoring those who paved the way.

“Go Down Sunshine” – Odetta

Odetta’s commanding voice became a soundtrack to the Civil Rights Movement, proving music’s power to inspire social change. Her artistry ties directly to FARHOF’s belief that folk and roots music are not just entertainment, but vessels for justice, unity, and cultural preservation.

“All I Want” – Joni Mitchell

Joni Mitchell’s intricate songwriting and emotional clarity helped redefine the possibilities of folk music in the 1970s. “All I Want” is built upon the deeply personal storytelling that continues to influence generations of artists, embodying FARHOF’s commitment to honoring innovation within tradition.

“Tear the Fascists Down” – Woody Guthrie

Woody Guthrie stands as one of the foundational voices of American folk music, using song as a vehicle for social conscience and collective resilience. This track underscores how roots music has amplified the voices of working people and movements for justice, a legacy FARHOF preserves.

“Black Betty” – Lead Belly

Lead Belly’s recordings carried traditional work songs and prison chants into the American mainstream, ensuring these stories were not lost to time. “Black Betty” represents the oral traditions and lived histories that form the foundation of roots music and the cultural preservation FARHOF continues to strive for.

“It Ain’t Me Babe” – Joan Baez

Joan Baez helped bring folk music into the national spotlight during a pivotal era of cultural change. Her interpretation of this song reflects the genre’s spirit of independence and social awareness, qualities that continue to shape the folk and Americana traditions celebrated within the Hall.

Graphics courtesy of the Folk Americana Roots Hall of Fame.

Mumford & Sons Continue to Matter, In Americana and Beyond

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

“Well, we’ve been here before…”

When Rushmere was released in March of this year – Mumford & Sons’ first album in seven years – critics noted its homecoming feel. The songs, the sound, the oh-so-yearning lyrics; they all combined to take the listener back to the beginning.

Tracks like “Malibu” and “Caroline” do not, perhaps, hit the wild highs of “Little Lion Man.” There’s a subtler expression at play in the album, reflecting an evolution from youthful exuberance to the quiet wisdom that only comes with experience. But a decade and a half on from Sigh No More, the band have clearly doubled back from their more experimental forays – 2018’s Delta; Marcus Mumford’s solo project, (self-titled) – to celebrate what brought them together in the first place. In Rushmere they had returned to their rootsy roots, and found peace there.

This month, the band heads back out on tour to Chicago, Philadelphia, Montréal, and more. In November, they’ll return to Europe, and ultimately to the UK, where their final leg will climax at London’s 20,000-capacity O2 arena. Months on the road this year and playing to sold-out venues have proven one thing: people still can’t get enough of them.

And yet the world is a very different place to when their debut album hit the shelves in 2009. When Mumford & Sons first toured Sigh No More, Barack Obama was President of the United States. In the UK, the biggest question on people’s lips was what Kate Middleton would be wearing at her royal marriage to Prince William.

Today’s social backdrop feels meaner, more fractious, less optimistic. Widening rifts in society have made it harder for people to celebrate shared values, even cherish the same moments together. Mumford have split with one of their own band members as a direct consequence of our rapid political polarization. What is it, then, that felt so fresh back then – and that still appeals today?

Matt Menefee first encountered the Mumford sound when his progressive bluegrass band, Cadillac Sky, were at their peak. “We were heading up out of Texas to play Telluride in 2010, and we played some gigs en route,” says Menefee. “So we’d stopped at a hotel, and there was Marcus on MTV, and someone said, ‘Oh, this band’s headlining the festival.’ Our lead singer already had the record and so we listened to it all the way up there.”

For a group of musicians that favored a raucous, punk rock vibe, Mumford’s gleeful-yet-soulful energy was something new. “We were like, ‘Oh man, this is something else!’” Menefee recalls. “To hear these cohesive, in-your-face anthems… it was raging. The melodies and the lyrics were beautifully crafted as well. It was a force that blew our guys away.”

Mumford’s Telluride set became an instant classic (it’s still spoken of in awe today). “It was just a party,” remembers Jerry Douglas, whom the band had asked to join them on stage. “The guys looked so excited. I’ve been to that festival so many times and you can get jaded. But I’m watching them jump up and down and I’m going, this is what it’s supposed to feel like.” He describes that electric closing set as one of the best he’s seen in Telluride’s 51 iterations.

Douglas is one of the many Americana musicians that Mumford and bandmates Ben Lovett, and Ted Dwane sought out to learn from in their early years and have built enduring relationships with. They included Douglas in their performance at the SNL 50th anniversary show, after he had recorded lap steel for Rushmere track “Caroline” – although he laughingly points out that it didn’t make the final mix. “It changed it, it took the band away from just sounding like themselves. I kind of Jackson Browne-ed them a little bit…”

Those collaborative relationships are one of the reasons that Mumford & Sons continue to matter, not least to the musical communities they’ve done so much to elevate. After their first meeting, Menefee became a regular guest artist with the band and has been their go-to banjo player since Winston Marshall’s departure. “You watch them interact with people,” says Menefee, “and they’re so humble, so sweet, so encouraging. They really look after everybody. They’re good, good dudes.”

In August, Mumford & Sons relaunched their Railroad Revival Tour, whose 2011 iteration involved travelling the Southwest in vintage trains alongside Old Crow Medicine Show and Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros. This summer’s rolling festival picked up where that one had left off, traveling between New Orleans and Vermont. The long list of musicians joining them on board ranged from Nathaniel Rateliff and Ketch Secor to Lainey Wilson and Molly Tuttle to Trombone Shorty and Chris Thile.

Lucius’s Jess Wolfe was one of the musicians sharing the stage with Mumford, after forging a bond with Marcus at celebrated, now infamous jams arranged by Brandi Carlile in Joni Mitchell’s living room. “Sitting listening to our hero sing – that’s such a humbling experience, it’s going to bring people close quite quickly,” laughs Wolfe. She describes Mumford & Sons as “natural collaborators – they feel like brothers from the minute that you step foot in the room with them.” It’s that comforting familiarity that expresses itself in their music and forms a major part of their appeal.

Having first heard their sound while working on the Brooklyn open mic circuit, Wolfe was struck by how it reflected the songs that her peers were writing, “except that these were songs that everyone could suddenly, with ease and without thinking, just sing along to. It was like a conversation you were having with an old friend.”

Their pulsing, anthemic melodies, underlaid with a signature stomp, quickly became an in-demand and much replicated sound in the industry. Banjo and mandolin players found themselves getting far more calls for session work. For musicians like Menefee who had spent years justifying their choice of instrument and trying to persuade a sceptical mainstream of its charms, the change was remarkable. “When Mumford hit, it was like, banjo’s cool!”

“I’d go do demo sessions for songwriters on Music Row and for years the publishers would ask you for ‘like, a Mumford thing,’” Menefee continues. “And I should say that’s not all they do – their Delta record is one of my favorites, with its beautiful marriage of electro pop and effects. But I witnessed the success of the other bands that followed in Mumford’s wake. They had a huge influence.”

Douglas believes it’s no exaggeration to say they changed the sound of the musical landscape. “And people either liked it or they didn’t. But it’s a heartbeat, you know? That’s the thing about it. It gets people excited and it makes them feel good. That endorphin rush happens and everybody goes to their happy place. And we need that right now. We need to go to our happy place.”

There, perhaps, lies the key to their successful return after seven years away from the limelight. Every night they play, Menefee sees crowds “losing themselves” in the singalongs. “There’s an anger and a vulnerability that really pierces the heart,” he says. “And it’s so freaking singable.”

The band themselves have admitted to be “stoked” to be headlining festivals in the UK again and there’s little sense of ego at their appearances. Instead, they host shows that have the feel of a party at which they themselves are enthusiastic guests. “It’s just so much fun,” says Menefee. “There’s a real joy in it, a rest from all the chaos.”

Perhaps, right now, we all need a bit more Mumford in our lives.

Photo Credit: Marcus Haney

Dar Williams Follows the Hummingbird Highway

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Dar Williams toured a spice farm in Belize amid pristine jungles and primordial Mayan ruins. At a bumpy junction, the driver told the passengers that there were three possible options: steering east, veering west, or sticking to the middle road, which he called the Hummingbird Highway. The instant wholly seized Williams’ attention. Something about the trail choices resonated, especially the enticing description of the middle one, striking her as a vivid metaphor of human life.

Williams, one of folk music’s most cherished gifts, titled her newest LP Hummingbird Highway (her 11th album). It’s an homage to the interdependence of boundless getaway and eternal return and another impressive offering from someone whose heart first journeyed to music long ago and whose emotional vigilance and poetic vigor seems to only intensify with age.

Indeed, the more Williams thought about the variety of roads, the more similarities she hit upon between herself and the hummingbird. “Hummingbirds have these fantastic migrations and hummingbirds need constant fueling,” said Williams.

Shortly after her Belize trip, Williams met a woman who had a matching hummingbird tattoo with her daughter, which the woman described as symbolic of distance and closeness, departure and arrival, the desire to fly in each and every direction with an understanding that the lucky ones can always ground again at home. Williams treasured the richness of all of this imagery. Once again, she contemplated the hummingbird, finding scores of analogies to the human experience and extracting her own correlations.

“Curiosity, love, longing, we’ve got all of these ways of getting around,” she said. “And it’s not always going forward. Like an artist, the hummingbird goes upside down and goes inside out… Flexibility, creativity, fastness, travel – they all make for a complicated person and parent. Hummingbird Highway was written from the perspective of a child, one with a peripatetic, depressed – perhaps bipolar – frenetic, creative, generous, loving parent.”

In a recording career that began with a demo tape in 1990 titled I Have No History, Williams has long leaned on songwriting and other forms of writing (she has written several travelogues and non-fiction books) to cast off and expose her blood and beauty to the world. Her creative journey was nurtured early in childhood bolstered by the support of parents who, as she said, “leaned into the commons culturally.” Born and raised in Westchester County, New York, music was always in the air at home. So, too, was love and praise.

Her mother was a preschool teacher who believed in letting her students and children choose their instruments first and then take lessons to learn how to play them, not the other way around. Her parents always backed their community’s arts programs, on one occasion selling grapefruit to raise funds for the local orchestra.

“I think that that influenced my love of working with coffeehouses,” said Williams. “It has influenced my love of things like art spaces that somehow figured out how to run a complex sound system, places that were community crowdfunded by a bunch of people who retrofitted it themselves from an old shoe store.”

Most of the music shaping Williams’ preferences she first heard long ago in her parents’ vinyl collection. At age 17, home from school one afternoon, she pulled out a couple of Judy Collins’ records. She fell in love with Collins’ Wildflowers (1967), which featured powerful orchestral arrangements by Joshua Rifkin and included her nourishing tone on songs by Joni Mitchell and Leonard Cohen. She remembers lines to “Sons Of,” a track from the 1970 album Whales & Nightingales as if she had just heard them moments ago.

“On these two albums by Judy, there were songs about lost sons and going to war and never coming back and brilliant, classical arrangements by Rikfin. There was poetry, peace. Pete Seeger, Leonard Cohen, Jacques Brel. A song with whales in it… Music made around that time, the musicians literally considered themselves to be turning the wheels of life and death, of culture and civilization. I wanted to be a part of that fabric.”

Williams treasured the pomp and flaming fire of Marvin Gaye, his charged, sexualized characteristics, and his Motown expression, as well as his connection to the wider world of society and humanity. Because of him, music became more to her than just what was present in her home and town. Music could represent the fullness of the planet. She was no longer merely listening to voices and sounds, but comprehending human dignity. Simon & Garfunkel were key early influences, too.

“Paul Simon’s iconography of urban life and ordinary things, buildings, people, and food, influences me to this day,” she said. “The idea of trying to create a sacred landscape from our daily lives comes directly from Simon & Garfunkel.”

Hummingbird Highway is classic Williams, a fresh supply of drink from the ever-flowing spring, exemplifying all of the strong points that make her music enjoyable. Spot-on humility supplies the nourishment of every song. Some express gladness, some are heavy, some are weightless, and others reflect her attempt to reconcile everything in her person. Breadth and beauty reside in all of them, displaying and epitomizing a songwriting mantra that Williams has practiced for a while, which is to allow each song the latitude to grow and shine on its own terms.

“My personal motto is to stick to writing the song that you are writing,” said Williams. “You shouldn’t just bat away a perfectly delightful song about a dragonfly landing on your shoulder, right? You can get to the bottom of a song whether it is a lighthearted or not-so-lighthearted song. Just keep yourself in the shoes of the characters, and find out what’s really happening. Songwriting is committing to the world that you find yourself in.

“We go to music that makes us cry, helps us laugh, helps us bang our heads around and makes us forget things, or makes us be in the ecstatic moment and escape from the murky depths. Feel that first inspiration and keep on going. It ends up being deeper than you thought anyway, even if it’s a flaky song. It’s a way into your inner blueprint and there is a reason it surfaced at that moment. Who are we to say what’s deep and what’s not deep?”

Williams doesn’t journal or write every single day. She does, however, seek to be inspired daily, constantly looking for something surprising or special in the ordinary flashes of day-to-day life, a need that she can satisfy sitting at a museum or on a park bench.

“That’s part of the honest struggle between pedestrian things and poetic things,” she said. “The artist decides all of that on a personal level and decides what in their life it is that they would like to turn into poetry.”

The deeper that she dips into her career, the more that Williams realizes that there is a holy motion guiding each and every recording, pushed forward by an intention that’s both specific and accumulated.

“Music is like archeology, where there are a lot of layers,” she explained. “And each album is a layer and an album is an eon of my life. Looking back, I can pinpoint times of my life, depending on what album I was writing or touring with, and what issues were coming up. Like archeology, it all sort of seems to make sense in its own world, even though it doesn’t at the time [the album] comes out. There is a certain palate, a certain feel, a certain personality, and a certain neuroses attached to each album. It is another way to keep a chronicle of a life and another way to gauge a life.”

Many of the songs on Hummingbird Highway were written during the pandemic and hold numerous references to birds, indicative of a point when Williams spent hours alone staring at and refilling the bird feeder in the garden. There’s also “Tu Sais Le Printemps,” a French bossa nova tune, and “All Is Come Undone,” a piece of writing which came to Williams as she was breaking up earth in the backyard, attempting to convert an idle plot of dirt into a thriving meadow, listening to Thomas Hardy’s poem “The Later Autumn.” Williams’ stab at modern Americana, “Put the Coins on His Eyes” was inspired by the storied history of early labor unions, movements, and revolutions in the U.S., and all of the agitation, suppression, and violence marking their expansions and downfalls.

The joy of taking a batch of new songs on the road is still compelling to Williams, who approaches every night with an alchemist’s urge for transformation, worship of experimentation, and spiritual curiosity about the core quality of things.

“It is a great thing to walk out and feel the energy of the people,” said Williams. “It’s best when there is no skepticism and no suspicion. But some audiences are tentative. You can feel it within the first couple of songs, like a massage therapist who feels tension; you feel the accretion of awareness for what kind of energy field you are walking into. The goal is to get to another place musically together with the audience.”

Photo Credit: Carly Rae Brunault

Jaelee Roberts Is the CEO of Super Lonesome Songs

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

I seriously love sad songs and it’s honestly so hard to keep this Mixtape short. Every time I think I’m done, I remember another song that deserves a spot. Some songs are perfect for those late-night lonely vibes, while others hit harder on a rainy day. I just think sad music has this special kind of beauty that happy songs can’t match. It’s dramatic, emotional, and somehow comforting at the same time.

Honestly, this Mixtape feels more like a mood diary than just a list of songs. Even now, I know I’ve left off some that should be here which means I’ll probably end up making a “Part 2.” At this point I might as well admit I’m the CEO of sad playlists. But hey – you can never really have too many sad songs, right? – Jaelee Roberts

“Desperado” – The Eagles

“Desperado” is a song that has grabbed me by my heart strings for my whole life. The melody alone just has that sad and lonesome feel that I love so much. A line in the lyrics that always jumps out at me is, “You better let somebody love you before it’s too late.” That grabs my heart in the best way.

“Marie” – Blue Moon Rising

The first time I heard this song it stopped me in my tracks. The way Keith Garrett sings it is absolutely the epitome of lonesome. The song is about a man struggling his entire life to make ends meet and finally he gets a glimpse of happiness through a woman he meets, Marie, and she and their unborn baby pass away. Townes Van Zandt’s lyrics paint a heartbreaking picture of poverty and loss.

“He Stopped Loving Her Today” – George Jones

George Jones is my all-time favorite and this is an obvious choice, but such an important one! This song has often been called “the saddest country song of all time” and I might just have to agree with that. A short explanation is that a man lost the love of his life and he was never able to get over her until he passed away – that’s when he finally stopped loving her. That is absolutely gut-wrenching, but I am obsessed with the song and love it so much.

“I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry” – Hank Williams

I am a huge Hank Williams fan and I have always listened to this song when feeling sad. The way his voice almost cries when he sings it just gets me in my heart and feelings every time I hear it. I am a bit of a country music history nerd and I study a lot about the lives of my heroes and learning about him and this song – the lyrics are so sad and hit even harder when you get into the story behind writing the song. He wrote it after he and his wife Audrey split up amongst his struggles with addiction… it’s heartbreaking.

“Are You Lonesome Tonight” – Elvis Presley

I have loved this song since I was a little girl. Elvis was my first love and I can remember this song being one of the first songs to ever make my heart feel sad. I was just a little kid and thinking, “Oh my goodness, is he okay?” The cry and emotion in his voice is so tragically beautiful and it’s a go-to sad song when I need to hear one. The lyrics are so sad. When you hear his voice say, “…And if you won’t come back to me, they can bring the curtain down…” it breaks my heart every time.

“Lonesome Town” – Ricky Nelson

The first time I heard this song I was hooked. The melody, the lyrics, his hauntingly sad voice made my heart hurt in the way you want it to hurt when listening to a sad song. I really love this song!

“Both Sides Now” – Joni Mitchell

This song is filled with the most beautiful imagery. It’s about viewing love one way and then having your heart broken and seeing love a different way – seeing it “from both sides now.” It’s such a perfectly crafted song and Joni’s voice is so sad and raw on this track.

“Let Me Be Lonely” – Jaelee Roberts

When I first heard this song I knew I had to record it. If you can’t tell, sad songs are my absolute favorite songs and this one hit me hard. I am so honored I got to sing this one. I love the way that it all came together with the way the fiddle sounds so sad and then accompanied by the crying steel guitar (my favorite sound in the world). I love the harmonies that the writers of this song, Kelsi Harrigill and Wyatt McCubbin added. It just completed the lonesome feeling. My favorite lyric in the song is the opening line: “Don’t come knockin’ on the door/ That smile’s not welcome here anymore.”

“Chasing Cars” – Snow Patrol

I actually first heard this song during a heartbreaking scene of one of my favorite TV shows and I remember feeling so sad. Every time I hear this song I feel like I’m in a sad music video. Lyrically, the song is just so great. I love the chorus when it comes in strong and says, “If I lay here, if I just lay here, would you lie with me and just forget the world?”

“Manhattan” – Sara Bareilles

I am a huge Sara Bareilles fan and this song has always had a hold on me. It’s one of the first songs that made me want to play piano. Her voice and the piano work together to make such a beautifully sad song. The song is about finding love, sharing their lives together in Manhattan, and letting that other person have that special place when the relationship ends. The way it’s written is just genius, really.

“Weekend In New England” – Barry Manilow

The melody of this song is what first caught my ear’s attention and then Barry starts singing and it’s just so beautiful. I have loved this song since I was just a young girl and have always listened to it when I feel sad. It’s just a classic sad song and you cannot go wrong with listening to it over and over.

“Heartbreaker” – Dolly Parton

I can still remember sitting in the backseat of our car in the driveway at home – small enough that I wasn’t allowed in the front seat yet. My mom would turn on WSM and we’d sit there together listening to the Grand Ole Opry until it was over. I’ll never forget one night when Little Jimmy Dickens had just finished his segment and the Opry signed off. The DJ came on playing music and that’s when it happened – Dolly Parton’s “Heartbreaker” came on. In that moment, my world stood still. I had never felt so heartbreakingly sad from a song, yet so completely happy at the same time. It was the first time music truly hit me that hard and it’s stayed with me ever since. “Heartbreaker, couldn’t you be just a little more kind to me?” So, so good.

“Misery and Gin” – Merle Haggard

This is another song that I have loved as long as I can remember. The music and melody starts off and then you hear Merle’s voice come in singing, “Memories and drinks don’t mix too well/ Jukebox records don’t play those wedding bells…” What a perfectly sad scenario! Merle Haggard is one of my favorites and could sing anything and make it sound sad, which I love so, so very much. This song is so lonely, but so beautiful and the lyrics are everything a sad lonesome song should be.

“Cry In The Rain” – Jaelee Roberts

This song is so beautifully written. Penned by two incredible songwriters – Billy Droze and Chris Myers – it tells a sad story about being heartbroken over someone, but refusing to let them see your tears. Instead, you hide your pain and only let yourself cry in the rain. I really love this image – it’s sad, strong, and poetic all at once. To me, that’s what makes the song so special. I feel truly honored to have had the chance to record it and tell the story in my own voice.

“Between an Old Memory and Me” – Keith Whitley

Keith Whitley had a way of singing that made you feel every single word, as if he lived inside the stories he told in his songs. In this song especially, when he sings the line, “I don’t want to talk about it, why can’t they just let me be?” you can literally hear the raw desperation and aching sadness in the cry of his voice. It’s lonesome, it’s haunting, and it’s heartbreak wrapped in melody. I love this song with my whole heart – it’s everything I admire about Keith Whitley’s music.

Photo Credit: Ava Renee Photography

Basic Folk: Olive Klug

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Olive Klug and I recorded this interview in my closet while they were in Portland, Maine, to play a show. Along with their band Cori, Haley, and Payton they stayed with us and it was a real pleasure to be around them for a few days. You can tell that Olive is at their best around their band and it is a true collaboration on stage. Shoutout to the whole crew for leaving such a remarkable impression on me and my wife and for assembling some baby furniture while they were staying at our house.

In our conversation for Basic Folk, Olive takes us on a journey through their musical upbringing, exploring their childhood influences, including their father’s eclectic taste in ’60s and ’70s rock and folk. Olive discusses their love for Joni Mitchell and Taylor Swift, which inspired them to learn guitar and develop their own musical tastes. They provide insights into their early internet presence on platforms like YouTube and Tumblr, and how these shaped their creative expression and online identity.

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Olive also touches on their experience of transitioning to a music career, going viral on TikTok, and the emotional and practical challenges that come with it. Additionally, they delve into how their psychology background and neurodiversity inform their songwriting, live performances, and day-to-day life. Our conversation wraps up with thoughts on the productive chaos of touring, the importance of community in the folk world, and their aspirations for long-term, sustainable growth in the music industry. Everyone belongs at the Olive Klug show. They leave their glow wherever their travels take them.

 

@oliveklugThe gay cowboys keep leaving nashvillea title=”♬ original sound – Olive Klug” href=”https://www.tiktok.com/music/original-sound-7519310944065817375?refer=embed” target=”_blank” rel=”noopener”>♬ original sound – Olive Klug

Photo Credit: Alex Steed

Anna Vogelzang’s Dream Summer Camp Cabin Playlist

Posted on by Editor

Now that summer is finally here and I’m about to embark on tour to support the release of my new album, I’m dreaming about idyllic summer pastimes, driving with the windows down, and crossing my fingers that I can force the band to have ice cream on the beach at least once. My new album, Afterglow, celebrates the rebuilding of self and who we become in the wake of life’s big cosmic shifts. The album has an ethereal, playful energy unlike any other record I’ve ever put out and it feels fitting that it’s being released in June (a Gemini baby!).

I never went to summer camp. My best fantasies about it fall somewhere between Wet Hot American Summer, The Parent Trap, and the tales my best friend spun while sitting on top of her sparkly pink trunk, freshly home in the late summer of 1999. In my dream scenario here, I am in an old school bunk with the most amazing women and songwriters four walls can hold; can you imagine what the moonlit campfire harmonies would sound like?! – Anna Vogelzang

“Limelight” – Tune-Yards

This song has the best groove of the summer; I cannot stop listening to it. “We all get free in the family” –Merrill is an incredible soul and I want to be around her fierceness all the time.

“The Light” – Anna Vogelzang

Of all the songs on the new record, this one is the most groove-forward. When I think about summer I think about wanting to move and groove, and this song makes me move every time I play it (or hear it!).

“Night Still Comes” – Neko Case

If I puked up some sonnets, would you call me a miracle?

Neko Case is one of my musical heroes and this song is so singable. That transition from intro to tempo, the way the background vocals fill the spaces – it all feels like dancing on a warm night.

“(You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman” – Aretha Franklin

The clip of Aretha playing this song at the Kennedy Center just resurfaced on my algorithm. Watching Carole King watch Aretha sing is such an incredible joy bomb and brought tears to my eyes, even though I’ve seen the clip a million times.

“Can I Talk My Shit?” – Vagabon

I love Vagabon’s melodies so much; I started hearing about her around town when I lived in LA and have been soaking up each album since. This “honestly I’m ready to go” hook is so dreamy.

“True Blue” – boygenius

“You said you wanted to feel alive so we went to the beach…”  There are so many songs I love on this record, but this one is all summer, all the time. Belting out harmonies on this near-perfect chorus while driving along Lake Michigan is something everyone should try at least once.

“Baby I’m Sorry” – mmeadows, Monica Martin

I’m obsessed with this new song from two of my all-time favorite singers. I know from experience that Moni is down to belt it out late into the night and the production on this entire track is so killer, I can’t get enough.

“The Returner” – Allison Russell

When Alli does this song live with her Rainbow Coalition, it’s otherworldly. I had the joy of jumping on stage with them for this tune at Thalia Hall and the energetic power of singing out, “If you think you’re alone, hold on, I’m comin’” cannot be denied.

“Make It Hot” – Mirah

I have been in love with Mirah since I saw her sing in a basement of a neighboring college almost 20 years ago. I love the descending chord progression on this chorus so much and arriving at the outro feels like a moment of pure triumph.

“not a lot, just forever” – Adrianne Lenker

I got to hear Adrianne play this song at a campfire hang at Kerrville once and it felt like a spell being cast – her specific song sorcery is unmatched.

“We the Common (For Valerie Bolden)” – Thao

I am a forever Thao stan and could’ve chosen so many different songs of hers, but this one’s chorus is so goddamn catchy and such a great sing-along moment (and all while speaking truth to power).

“Scaled to Survive” – Leyla McCalla

Summer laid out for us in a groove! This guitar tone, the percussion groove, and Leyla’s heavenly voice create the perfect summer storm. I love Leyla and have such a deep respect for her artistry.

“Ancient Light” – I’m With Her

Another mixed meter groove-forward campfire jam. I love this song, especially the breakdown, but really I’m loving the whole new album so much. These ladies are such a great hang and I would love their hilarity and power trio vibes in our cabin party!

“California” – Joni Mitchell

There is no song hero greater than Joni, and there is no song that feels more like summer to me than California. The opener might as well be today: “They won’t give peace a chance; that was just a dream some of us had.” On days where I really miss LA, I find myself humming this tune without even realizing it.

“King & Queen” –Anna Vogelzang

This track opens Afterglow and is a totally casual ode to toxic relationships – and really hits how good it feels when you realize you’ve outgrown someone, or something, and finally leave them in the dust. It’s giving running on the beach and into the sunset.

Photo Credit: Audre Rae Photography

Love More, Care Less: Martin Kerr’s Songs of Hope for Dark Times

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

I left home (a sleepy market town in middle England) the day after high school finished and traveled around the world with just a guitar and a backpack. I paid my way by teaching English and singing songs in cafes. Five years, 36 countries, and two unfinished degrees later, I moved to Canada to marry a girl I’d once met at a party in Beijing and started my new career as a street performer.

Since then, I’ve played about 3000 gigs, from street corners to stadiums, successfully avoided getting a real job, and raised three amazing ginger kids. I love meeting and singing with people of all walks of life, especially the ordinary, humble folks who are often overlooked. I’m not really interested in finding a niche or a scene – I’m much more keen on finding ways to bridge the gaps between them.

One thing we all have in common is hard times and a need to hold on to hope through our grief and disappointment. Songs have always helped me, and do that, and I feel that I’m not alone. These tunes have inspired and comforted me over the years, and a couple of my own can do the same for you. – Martin Kerr

“Love More, Care Less” – Martin Kerr

I recorded this live in one take, because it’s a song about honesty and acceptance, and because there’s already enough airbrushing and auto-tuning in the world. ‘Love more, care less’ is how I’m trying to live my life now.

“Better, Still” – 100 mile house

This gem of a song beautifully encapsulates the feeling of being a young couple trying to find your place in a senseless world. 100 mile house have disbanded now, and they never got the recognition they deserved, but to me this song is timeless.

“Sometimes” – James

I still remember the first time I heard this song, wedged into the middle seat of an old car with new friends on a dark country road in northern England as the rain poured down. It’s an ecstatic, defiant celebration of song, storms, death, and the meaning of life.

“Big Bird In A Small Cage” – Patrick Watson

The softness of this song’s beginning is so inviting. It grows, line by line, with new instruments and harmonies, the song spreading its wings like the bird in the title. I love a song that grows and lifts and takes you on an unexpected journey. Plus, it’s my wife’s favorite, so I always get extra points for playing it.

“Re: Stacks” – Bon Iver

Usually I favor narrative songwriting with a clear story. But this abstract work of genius somehow immerses me in a world, a heart, and a feeling without making any outward sense. It’s the perfect end to a mind-blowing album, carrying the listener from anguish through acceptance to a new day.

“Feather On The Clyde” – Passenger

Passenger was a street performer when he made this record, busking on the streets of Sydney to pay for the recording and sleeping on the studio couch at night. I love the vulnerability and honesty in this simple song with its intricate fingerpicking that ebbs and flows like the titular river. I remember listening to this 20 times in a row on a long flight home and resolving to allow myself to be carried by the flow of life like the feather he sings about.

“A Case of You” – Joni Mitchell

Possibly the greatest vocal performance on any record ever. I’ve always wanted to cover this song, but never felt I could do it justice. Joni paints vivid pictures of heartbreak with her words and illuminates them with the glow of her perfect voice over a lonely dulcimer. The peak of confessional singer-songwriting. I listened to it endlessly in my first apartment in Beijing when I owned nothing but a sofa, a Discman, and a handful of pirated CDs bought from the street market.

“Fast Car” – Tracy Chapman

I love that this song was rediscovered by a new generation recently, but the original version can never be beaten. As a 5-year-old hearing this for the first time, I’m not sure I understood the whole story at first, but I pored over the lyrics on the back of the vinyl dust-cover in my sister’s room until I knew every word and every note of this young woman’s story from half the world away. The lift into the chorus captures the bittersweet exhilaration of escaping something that was once beautiful, but now has turned dark and needs to be left behind.

“Can’t Unsee It” – Martin Kerr

Unspeakable things are happening in the world at the moment and we’re told to look the other way, to pretend it’s not happening. I made this song to try and express the grief in my heart at witnessing the genocide in Gaza, while being powerless to stop it. The melody is inspired by “Here Comes The Sun,” in the hope that there could yet be some light at the end of this long darkness for the children of war.

“Guiding Light” – Foy Vance

My parents used to sing me to sleep with old Scots lullabies that I only half understood. Foy Vance manages to bridge the gap between Gaelic traditions and the modern world in his music and this song gives me a timeless feeling of home and belonging.

“Innocence and Sadness” – Dermot Kennedy

Hearing Dermot sing this solo for a whole stadium every night was magical. I got to open for him on his cross-Canada tour last year and it was unforgettable. His songs are so nostalgic and so fresh at the same time, ancient and modern, so personal yet universal. I try to reach for that in my own songwriting and performing.

“Farewell And Goodnight” – Smashing Pumpkins

I used to fall asleep to this song every night when I was 16 and 17, when I was trying to figure out who I was, where I belonged, and why the girls I fell for never fell for me. Listening now I can hear it starts with a brush on a snare drum, but I always thought it was the waves lapping on the shore. The song is a calm and wistful end to a chaotic album full of angst and confusion (Mellon Collie And The Infinite Sadness). I think it taught me the value of simplicity and comfort, of contrast and context. I can still hear the click of the stop mechanism that would almost wake me up as the tape ended on my cheap plastic boombox.

Photo Credit: Shaun Scade

MIXTAPE: Sam Blasucci’s Life Forms in Live Performance

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Coming early 2025, I will be releasing a live concert film of my new record, Real Life Thing. The film runs like a play of sorts, including different set changes and moods for each song as we run down the entire track list of the album. To me, live performance is the reason for making music. It’s the best way for me to tap into something deep in myself with those that have come out to do the same. It’s also the way that I make my trade as a human; I think live performance already brings an honest and vulnerable energy since it is our livelihood.

Songs evolve each time they’re performed live and each instrument reflects a current mood. It’s an endless mixed bag of potential outcomes. So much of a performance is pulled from all of the energies involved – the crowd, the band, the venue and the ghosts that live there, the time of year, etc. It’s the most exciting part of music to me and that’s why I decided to make my playlist all live performances of some of my favorite songs. – Sam Blasucci

“If I Was Your Girlfriend” Live In Utrecht (2020 Remaster) – Prince

I could have made this entire playlist just live Prince recordings that blow my mind, but that might only be fun for me. I especially love this version because it’s a song he wrote as his alter ego persona Camilla, who sang it on the album (Prince pitched his voice up to sound higher). But in this version, you just get Prince in Europe with his natural voice and it’s one of my favorite recordings of his ever.

“Hey That’s No Way to Say Goodbye” Live in London – Leonard Cohen

I think this is Leonard Cohen’s best album of any, live or in the studio. He was better and better with age. This is the cute version of Leonard as an old man finally, singing this song in the way it feels like it should have always been sung. Of any live performance on this list, this is the one I would have loved to see most in person.

“LA FAMA” Live en el Palau Sant Jordi – Rosalía

Some live versions I think are better than the studio versions and this is one of those cases, although I love the studio versions of all the MOTOMAMI songs. When Rosalía released this on the deluxe version of the album, it gave the song another side and clicked with me even more.

“Hunter” (Live) – Björk

If the purpose of a live performance is to tap in to something, Björk never missed. She’s the hunter.

“Knock On Wood” Live; 2005 Mix; 2016 Remaster – David Bowie

This is my favorite era of David Bowie (Cracked Actor). I especially love his vocal performance in this version. It’s not easy to cover a classic song like this and have it feel tastefully ramped up, but I think he brought it and crushed it.

“Voices Inside (Everything Is Everything)” – Donny Hathaway

Willie Weeks may be my favorite bass player and his solo section toward the end of this is widely known as one of the coolest bass moments, and with good reason. I suppose it shouldn’t be that hard to tap in when Donny Hathaway is leading the band.

“17 Days” Piano & A Microphone 1983 Version – Prince

When you can strip it all down to a single instrument and a voice and come through with so much power and spirit, that must be the true peak of live performance. When there is nothing else in the pot, all the secret parts of the music come out and make magic.

“Hot Burrito #2” Live at Lafayette’s Music Room – Big Star

I always thought Alex Chilton had some similarities with Gram Parsons. They sort of sing in a similar way and they both show so much emotion in their songs. I think that’s why he could make this version hit so hard. Chilton is at the top of my list of guitar players as well, and this song is a reason why.

“Ventura” Live 2003/The Fillmore, San Francisco – Lucinda Williams

This was recorded on my birthday in 2003. Although I was in 3rd grade and not in attendance for the show, I’d like to think I helped with the vibes. This one sounds like November in SF to me. Another amazing thing about live performance is capturing the energy surrounding the show.

“Woman of Heart and Mind” Live at Universal Amphitheatre, Los Angeles, CA, 8/14-17, 1974 – Joni Mitchell

Another version that I prefer to the studio cut. The sound of the night and the live acoustic guitar; Joni’s semi-confrontational and conversational writing style seem to be designed for an in-person type of listening.

“Angel Eyes” Live In Toronto/1975 – Jim Hall

Jim Hall is another one of my favorite guitar players. I learned about this song years ago on tour in Colorado and it has ever since remained one of my favorites.

“Stay a Little Longer” Live at Harrah’s Casino, Lake Tahoe, NV April 1978 – Willie Nelson

This feels like a good burning ender to this playlist, although it is the very opening of the concert it was taken from. Willie’s recipe is 3x the speed of the original, a couple out of control solos, and likely some exotic mood modifiers.

Photo Credit: Jo Anna Edmison

13 Roots Music Book Recommendations From 2024

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

2024 served up a treasure trove of great music books – too many to encapsulate in a concise way. However, it’s still worth a try! So, here is a look at some notable books (in no particular order) that should hold an appeal to the BGS community. This baker’s dozen hopefully provides a diverse and interesting sampling of what has been published over the past year.

There are biographies of superstars like Joni Mitchell and Dolly Parton alongside important if underappreciated figures, such as guitarist Jesse Ed Davis and the Blind Boys of Alabama. Look into the lives of bluegrass icons Tony Rice and John Hartford led by those that knew them while Joan Baez, Lucinda Williams, and Alice Randall each released memoirs that told their life stories in fascinating ways.

There are books here, too, that examine sub-genres like the world of busking and the outlaw country movement, as well as scenes from the musical history of Greenwich Village and the story of a little-known but significant music project that was part of FDR’s New Deal.

There’s a little something for everyone, whether for your holiday shopping list, your winter break stack of books “to be read,” to use up those bookstore gift cards, or for your 2025 resolution to sit down and read more.

Traveling: On the Path of Joni Mitchell by Ann Powers (Dey Street Books/HarperCollins)

2024 was a big year for Joni Mitchell, with her captivating appearance at the GRAMMY Awards representing another major milestone on her amazing recuperation from her 2015 brain aneurysm. NPR music critic (and occasional BGS contributor) Ann Powers extensively examines the many sides of Joni Mitchell in this stimulating and provocative book. Powers makes it clear from the get-go that she isn’t a biographer and compares her work here to being like a mapmaker. It makes total sense then that Powers entitled the book Traveling. The word not only references Mitchell’s tune “All I Want,” but it also reflects the numerous paths that Mitchell has traveled down during her long, storied career – a journey Powers incisively and insightfully explores over the course of some 400-some pages.

Dolly Parton’s White Limozeen by Steacy Easton (Bloomsbury)

Steacy Easton followed up their Tammy Wynette biography, Why Tammy Matters, by tackling an even larger female country music icon: Dolly Parton. Part of the acclaimed 33 1/3 book series, this compact tome focuses on Parton’s popular 1989 album White Limozeen. Easton views it as a pivotal work for Parton as it represented a triumphant rebound from her roundly disappointing 1987 release, Rainbow. Besides delving into how the Ricky Skaggs-produced White Limozeen found Dolly returning more to her country roots from the more pop-oriented Rainbow, Easton also uses her album as something like a prism to look at Dolly’s wildly successful career and her iconic persona.

Don’t Tell Anybody the Secrets I Told You: A Memoir by Lucinda Williams (Crown)

Fans of Lucinda Williams’ songs may think they know her through her lyrics, which are often drawn from Lu’s own experiences. Williams’ memoir, however, reveals more about her extraordinary life than even her deeply felt lyrics have expressed. The book is especially strong in covering her quite turbulent childhood involving her father Miller Williams (a poet/professor long in search of tenure) and her mother, Lucille, who suffered from manic depression. Fittingly, Williams prefaces her book by listing the many places where she lived (a dozen before she was 18) which reflects her rootless childhood and set her up for a home in the Americana music pantheon. While the title suggests a racy tell-all, the book feels more like having the great pleasure of listening to Lucinda intimately tell stories from her life – what more could you ask for?

Washita Love Child: The Rise of Indigenous Rock Star Jesse Ed Davis by Douglas K. Miller (Liveright)

Jesse Ed Davis is a name that probably is not familiar to most music fans. Lovers of ’70s rock might recognize his name as a guitarist who worked with the likes of Taj Mahal, Eric Clapton, Neil Diamond, Ringo Starr, John Lennon, and George Harrison (Davis performed at the fabled Concert For Bangladesh). Those who know him from those gigs, however, might not even know that Davis was a rare Native American in the rock ‘n’ roll world. He only really made his Indigenous heritage prominent when he teamed with Native American poet/activist John Trudell during the ’80s in the Graffiti Band. Sadly, Davis’ career was derailed due to alcohol and drug abuse, which also led to his death in 1988 at the age of 48. In this vividly told biography, Douglas K. Miller, a professor of Native American History at Oklahoma State University, turns a spotlight on this ground-breaking and underappreciated musician.

Down On The Corner: Adventures in Busking & Street Music by Cary Baker (Jawbone Press)

For his debut book, longtime publicist and journalist Cary Baker turned to a lifelong music interest of his: street musicians. Early on in this book, he relates the transformative moment when, as a teenager, he was taken by his father to Chicago’s famous Maxwell Street where he saw bluesman Blind Arvella Gray perform on the street. This experience not only led to his first journalism work, but it also launched a love for street music. His enlightening book, which is broadly divided geographically, profiles buskers from across America and Europe. Down On The Corner is populated with colorful characters like Bongo Joe, Tubby Skinny, and Wild Man Fischer along with well-known musicians, such as the Old Crow Medicine Show, Rambling Jack Elliott, Billy Bragg, Fantastic Negrito, and Peter Case, who share tales about playing on the streets.

My Memories of John Hartford by Bob Carlin (University Press of Mississippi)

My own memories of John Hartford are of him playing on Glen Campbell’s TV show. He seemed so cool and laidback – and he could play banjo with lightning-fast virtuosity. Happily, Bob Carlin has more interesting memories about the legendary musician, and he comes to this book from a pretty unique perspective. Carlin first met Hartford when he interviewed him in the mid-1980s for the radio program Fresh Air. Carlin (himself an award-winning banjoist) later performed with Hartford and even became his de facto road manager. In his book, he deftly balances his background as a journalist and position as a longtime friend in telling the story of Hartford, who was a true crossover star bluegrass musician of his time.

Discovering Tony Rice by Bill Amatneek (Vineyards Press)

Like Bob Carlin with John Hartford, Bill Amatneek has a privileged perspective when it comes to writing about his subject, the late, great Tony Rice. Amatneek, a musician as well as writer, spent several years playing with Rice in the David Grisman Quintet. Rice was one of the best-ever flatpicking guitarists (and a terrific vocalist) whose career was undercut by illnesses and his own personal demons. Amatneek constructed his book as an oral biography, built around stories told to him by fellow musicians who knew Tony, like Sam Bush, Béla Fleck, Peter Rowan, and Jerry Douglas along with Rice family members, allowing readers to discover the bright and dark sides of this bluegrass master.

Talkin’ Greenwich Village: The Heady Rise and Slow Fall of America’s Bohemian Music Capital by David Browne (Hachette Books)

As its title plainly states, Talkin’ Greenwich Village discusses the renowned area of New York City that has been a center for bohemian arts culture for decades. The book can be described as a “biography” of both the people (Dave Van Ronk plays a prominent role throughout this story) and the places (particularly the clubs, such as the Bottom Line, Kenny’s Castaways, Gerde’s Folk City, and the Bitter End) that populated the Village’s music scene from 1957-2004. (Browne here basically concentrates on the West Village.) The author of books on the Grateful Dead, CSN&Y, and Sonic Youth, Browne does a masterful job at bringing this neighborhood to life during its many eras. The Village holds a special place in Browne’s heart; he discovered the neighborhood as an undergrad at NYU just as the new folk scene of the early ’80s was brewing. His passion shines through in his storytelling.

My Black Country: A Journey Through Country Music’s Black Past, Present, and Future By Alice Randall (Simon & Schuster)

You may have already heard about Alice Randall and her book right here, on BGS and Good Country. My Black Country has received great acclaim (NPR listed the book among its “Books We Love” for 2024) and justifiably so. An author, professor, and songwriter, Randall tapped all her talents in creating this inspiring work that addresses her life story and investigates the history of Black country music, which she traces back nearly a hundred years to when DeFord Bailey performed on Nashville’s WSM radio station. It should be noted, too, that this isn’t just a Nashville-centered book; it explores Black country music made all across America. Besides enjoying Randall’s literary creation, you can also enjoy her songwriting craft too; Oh Boy Records released an eponymous compilation of Randall-penned tunes interpreted by such artists as Rhiannon Giddens, Allison Russell, Valerie June, and Leyla McCalla. (Of which, Giddens’ performance of “The Ballad of Sally Anne” is nominated for a GRAMMY for Best American Roots Performance.)

Spirit of the Century: Our Own Story by The Blind Boys of Alabama & Preston Lauterbach (Hachette Books)

The Blind Boys of Alabama are a remarkable story. Remarkable in the sense that the vocal group came into existence around 1940 at the Alabama Institute for the Negro Deaf and Blind and made their way out into the world through the gospel music circuit. And it is remarkable, too, that the Blind Boys of Alabama not only remain a group today (they describe themselves as the “longest running group in American music”), but they have earned five GRAMMYs (and a Lifetime Achievement Award) as well as an NEA National Heritage Fellowship. Preston Lauterbach (author of books like Beale Street Dynasty and The Chitlin’ Circuit) has done an eloquent job weaving together stories from band members and other musical colleagues, and turning them into this absorbing biography.

Willie, Waylon and the Boys: the Ultimate Outlaw Country Primer by Brian Fairbanks (Hachette Books)

This book is something of a biographical combo platter. The first nine chapters concentrate on the “Mount Rushmore” of outlaw country: Willie, Waylon, Johnny, and Kris. Those 240 pages are packed with colorful tales of the foursome, whether on their own or together as the Highwaymen. At that point, the book pivots and explores outlaw country’s legacy in the form of the alternative country scene that was burgeoning during the ’90s, as the Highwaymen were ending their run (their third, final, and least successful album came out in 1995). Fans of alt-country and “new outlaw” artists might wish for a deeper dive into this scene. The chapter on “The New Highwaymen” (built upon the idea of guys like Chris Stapleton, Jason Isbell, Ryan Bingham, and Sturgill Simpson as a new outlaw quartet) feels a bit too speculative. Fairbanks, however, is on stronger footing with his “Highwaywomen” chapter, which looks at the actual supergroup collaboration of the Highwomen, featuring Brandi Carlile, Natalie Hemby, Maren Morris, and Amanda Shires that, among other things, countered the male dominance of the original outlaw movement.

A Chance to Harmonize: How FDR’s Hidden Music Unit Sought to Save America from the Great Depression—One Song at a Time By Sheryl Kaskowitz (Pegasus)

This is a book for history buffs who love music – and vice versa. Author Sheryl Kaskowitz (who previously wrote a book on the history of the song “God Bless America”) has dug up the story on a little-known music unit that was part of the New Deal. This U.S. government program led by Charles Seeger (yes, the father of Pete) sent out musician/agents (noted American ethnomusicologist Sidney Robertson was one prime participant) to gather up folk songs around the country. The goal was to use these songs to build community spirit at homestead communities launched by federal government under the auspices of the Resettlement Administration. The projects were considered radical and controversial back then and, consequently, were very short-lived. Fortunately, however, more than 800 songs were recorded and have been stored away in the Library of Congress.

When You See My Mother, Ask Her to Dance by Joan Baez (David R. Godine)

Joan Baez spent over 60 years making music and touring. While she has basically retired from music, Baez hasn’t put an end to expressing her creativity. In 2023, she released a book of drawings and in 2024, she published this book of poetry. There are at least a couple of notable aspects to this poetry project. Baez has long been known more for being an interpreter of songs rather than a songwriter, so it is intriguing to see more of her writer side expressed in this collection. Also, she has struggled with dissociative identity disorder (AKA multiple personality disorder, a topic addressed in the powerful documentary Joan Baez: I Am A Noise). Baez candidly states in the Author’s Notes that some of the poems are “are heavily influenced by, or in effect written by, some of the inner authors,” adding intriguing layers to her creative process – which she displays through the pieces collected in this book.