Forget the information age, we live in the age of hyper-stimulation. There seems to be less space to think – or to feel – than at any other point in human history, and music is not immune to that more-of-everything-all-at-once trap. But Andrew Combs’ sixth album Dream Pictures is your chance to take a break.
An acclaimed singer-songwriter with over a decade of work bridging country, folk, and pop songcraft, Combs is all too familiar with life on the run. He spent years trading his health and sanity for the precarious life of a traveling musician, but lately he’s been on a different program.
Born from quiet evenings of creative refuge, secluded in his garage after the kids went to bed, Dream Pictures finds Combs getting off the artistic treadmill and focusing on a sustainable life – one that includes a family and creative outlets not tied to a marketing calendar.
The result is a calming, relaxed fusion of roots pop and electronic folk, full of confessional character sketches and golden-hour contemplations that may require some slowing down to appreciate – but are well worth the effort. Basically, it’s the opposite of TikTok, and Combs spent one peaceful morning chatting with BGS about where it all came from.
It’s been about a dozen years since your debut album – how are you feeling about creativity as a job these days?
Andrew Combs: I feel more at ease and more creative and productive than I really ever have and I think that probably has a lot to do with just my schedule and having kids. I have no time to just sit around, so I don’t get caught in these periods of writer’s block or anything. I just don’t have time to do that.
Ok, that sounds pretty good!
Yeah, and I feel good. But I mean, the music industry is so fucked – especially for an artist at a lower level like myself. It’s just really hard. I’ve given up in a lot of ways trying to make a full money-making career out of it. I work a part-time job and I paint as well and I’ve decided that I want to do stuff that I want to do. That’s kept me going, and I’m actually happier than ever not being on the road all the time. I’m just doing things when they make sense and not looking at it as I have to go out on the road to make money.
That’s interesting. A lot of artists say that they do their best songwriting in periods of turmoil, but Dream Pictures feels very peaceful.
Yeah, I’d say the overall thesis statement about what the record is about is being content. And not to sound too “woo woo,” but just live in the moment and appreciate what is there around you. A year or two ago, I could easily fall into looking at Instagram and thinking “I should be doing that.” But for this record, I wrote all these songs in the evening after the kids went to bed in that sort of wind-down [stage]. … I kind of liken it to the golden hour of a summer night, just that quiet and calm time when my wife and I can interact as humans and adults and I can go to the garage and do my thing.
It is peaceful, but also patient. I was thinking like, “This is the opposite of TikTok,” and I mean that in a good way.
[Laughs] I actually chose this record to sign up on TikTok and try and put stuff on there and I’m just so lost. It’s so overwhelming when you open the thing, just like, “Bam!”
Likewise, back when you first started putting out records, Americana seemed like it was really exploding and growing, with a lot of new artists coming out. I’m just wondering, do you feel like the roots music scene has evolved in the last decade or so?
I don’t know if it’s evolved or de-volved. It seems like it’s just sort of an all-encompassing net for stuff that doesn’t work other places – which is great, and the cream of the crop is still amazing, but I do feel like there’s a lot of “genericana” going on. It’s just like I got a little bored with it and my origin into making music was electronic music, and then I drifted towards songwriting and Guy Clark, Joni Mitchell, Jackson Browne, and Townes Van Zandt, that kind of stuff. I still really think songs are important and words are important, but I’m also more interested in exploring different melodic things and the sonic quality of recording. I guess for a selfish reason, it’s just to keep me interested.
I can hear that mix of electronica and songwriting on Dream Pictures. You recorded everything with your friend Dom [Billett], what do you like most about how it came out?
We didn’t know we were starting a record. Dom – who has played with me live a lot and done a lot of recording with me, but never produced something with me – over COVID he built out his studio and got a tape machine, and he was like, “I’m just trying to figure this thing out. Do you have any songs that we can try?” The first song that I brought was “Your Eyes and Me,” and that ends up being one of my favorites. You can really hear the progression of him learning the tape machine … because by the end, it just sounds like a good recording. So I like that. I also feel like Dom’s friendship shows, at least to me. We also had our friend Spencer Cullum record some pedal steel, and it’s just us three. I like collaborating – but I really like collaborating when it’s a core group.
I read that “Eventide” was dedicated to your wife. Are you writing a lot of songs about family these days? What are you feeling inspired by?
Mostly right now, it’s about that contentment and mindfulness. I think it’s important for me to get out as well as I think it’s a worthwhile message to be spreading. There are also songs on the new record that another journalist I talked to – and he meant it in a really a nice way – he said they’re “low-stakes songwriting.” Songs that are about love, or heartbreak. Those kind of songs I’ve been writing for a long time. And I’m still able to harken back to my 20s and go through those feelings. I can still feel them like they were yesterday. But it probably helps to not be in despair and look back with a clear head.
Tell me a little bit about “Mary Gold.” It has a nice, delightful little bounce to it, and I love that lo-fi pop feel. What’s that one about?
That’s just a love song, kind of a “low-stakes songwriting” song. Just a feeling of this girl who doesn’t know how special she is, but in the eyes of the beholder is special. Lyrically, I think there’s some good stuff in there, but I was really focusing on that bounce you’re talking about. That ’70s pop feel, I felt like the record could use something like that. A lot of the songs are really subtle and soft and serious.
I dig the premise of “I’m Fine” – and the falsetto hook. Is that about trying to convince yourself you’re fine? Or is that more of that feeling when somebody asks “Hey, what’s wrong with you?”
I mean, I think it’s the latter. That’s the only song I co-wrote on this record and I’ve had it for a long time. The guy I wrote it with, Burton Collins is his name, we wrote again around when I was making the record and that song was good, but it just didn’t quite fit. So I just went back through stuff we had done in the past and was like, “Let me fiddle around with that one for a bit.” It ended up being fun.
What do you like about Dream Pictures as a title? Is that a central theme for the record, or just a cool title?
Well, I originally wanted to call it Eventide, but there’s a guitar-pedal company called Eventide and all my friends were like, “Oh, the pedal?” And I was like, “No, the time of evening.” [Laughs] They were like, “I didn’t know that’s what that meant.” So then Dream Pictures stood out, and the idea of that golden hour, in-between time of chaos and peace, which can also be associated with sleep. I feel like a lot of my song ideas and painting ideas come from that time period of just falling asleep or just waking up.
Big picture, what do you hope folks take away from this one? What are you looking for in the next 10 years?
Well, I hope people find a bit of peace and quiet with the record, and I hope it’s enjoyable. It’s sort of selfish, but I’m just happy to put it out there and get a piece of me out there. I don’t know what the future holds. I could say I’m going to make a synth pop record right now, but it could turn out to be something totally different, so I really don’t know. I’m just going to keep writing and being creative and enjoying my time here on earth.
(Editor’s Note: To mark the occasion of Bonny Light Horseman’s brand new double LP, Keep Me On Your Mind/See You Free – which were released in June – we invite our readers to be as flies on the wall during a special exclusive interview, an entertaining and joyful conversation between the members of this folk supergroup, Eric D. Johnson, Josh Kaufman, and Anaïs Mitchell.
Read about the band’s memories of their first gigs played for money, about popular bands they don’t really “get,” and so much more below. Plus, dig into their deep and broad discography – together and separately – with our in-depth exploration of their catalog of recordings here.)
Eric D. Johnson: We totally love each other a lot and we spend a lot of time together and we talk about everything, and I know everything about you guys, pretty much. I got some deep shit on you guys!
But, one question that I didn’t know the answer to, because I have a really funny answer for it is, what was the first show that you ever played where you got paid money? Do you remember?
Anaïs Mitchell: Oh wow!
EDJ: Can you guys remember that?
Josh Kaufman: I can remember. I don’t know if it was the very first, but it was certainly early. I played a yogurt shop in Port Jeff. I definitely played a lot of Grateful Dead songs. I think I played “Peggy-O” and like “Friend of the Devil.” I may have tried an ambitious solo acoustic version of “St. Stephen.”
EDJ: Tell me more though, was it a band? Was it you solo? And did you go just under the name Josh Kaufman?
JK: Just me. I don’t know if I was even booked. I don’t know. I may have just shown up.
EDJ: And what was the yogurt shop?
JK: I can’t remember the name of it either. I feel like I have a couple of friends that definitely would remember and definitely were there. That was the ‘90s, that was the era of the yogurt shop. It was basically a cafe, but let’s face it, it was a yogurt shop. I don’t know what I got paid, but I did get paid. I was probably 16; at a yogurt shop playing Grateful Dead songs for money.
AM: I want to see you then, Josh!
EDJ: I totally want to see him! I want to find the bootleg of that show. How did you get hooked up with the yogurt gig?
JK: Well, I was kind of in bed with big yogurt–
EDJ: You’re a big deal going way back–
JK: Going way back now! Well, how did I know about [it]? I think my friend Kevin Jones worked there. I think this is what happened. My friend Kevin Jones worked there, who you guys will meet when we play in California, because he just moved to the Bay Area. He’s going to come to our show. I think they were looking to up their game [at the yogurt shop]. And he was like, “Let’s see what happens. Let’s bring in a professional.” It must have been such a hot mess.
EDJ: I bet you were good from the jump. That’s my guess.
JK: That’s generous.
EDJ: Anaïs, what about you?
AM: I think the first time I made money for music was [when I was] 18 years old and I took a gap year. I was going to go to school, but I took a gap year and then I moved to Boston. You guys know this. I know you know this about me.
JK: You were a waitress.
AM: I was a waitress. Right. At this diner and then later as a waitress at this Cajun/Mexican place, which really sucked. It was in Central Square and I remember I had that job, because I quit it when I realized that I could make money playing in the subway. I could make equal money to what I made as a waitress. Basically, I would go down – I want to say that I played an Ovation Guitar. I’m sorry. [Laughs]
EDJ: Classic! Love this. I’m just gonna say: Ovation Guitar; yogurt shop. Just as visuals.
AM: Totally. [Laughs] I love this. They go together.
JK: You can actually eat yogurt out of an Ovation Guitar.
EDJ: They are designed for eating yogurt out of – in the ‘90s!
AM: I had a little portable [amp], my first amp. I just started playing electric on tour with you guys, but that’s not my first amp. My first amp was a little Crate amp. Do you know what those are? It was bright yellow. And it was cool. For plugging in your Ovation Guitar when you played in the subway, they were amazing.
So I did that. And the cool thing was I was really just getting going. I had written maybe a handful of songs – that I’ve repressed [since]. Like they were really not good, but if you’re playing in the subway, the audience turns over every 10 minutes. I played the same songs. I would just play them again and again. It was mostly my new songs that I had written. And I think I played a couple of folk songs that I learned from the Rise Up Singing folk music bible.
EDJ: But were people like throwing in money? What was your haul? Not because I care that much about money, but I’m just asking, is this your first profesh gig? Do you have your case? Do you have a little hat box?
AM: You got your case open and you put a couple dollars in there. You put like a five [dollar bill] to show people that. You don’t put coins, because then that’s what people put. I actually can’t remember, with inflation, like, what was that? I want to say I would go down there for an hour or two and make fifty to a hundred bucks.
JK: Oh, that’s really good. That sounds really good to me.
AM: That’s why I quit my waitressing job! I was like, this sucks. I’m just gonna do this.
EDJ: You’re 18, what is that, the year 2000?
AM: Or something… it was ‘99. Yes.
EDJ: Okay, sick. With inflation, I think that’s good. I think you did really well
AM: I might be misremembering, might be adjusting for inflation [wrong] in my memory.
JK: I think I got paid, by the yogurt shop, like $46 or something like that, which when I think about it now it’s almost like the tooth fairy or something. I think somebody just felt bad for me. They’re like, “This is 36, 46 bucks, just take it, go.” You know that, “Here’s some gas money.”
EDJ: I like that it was $46.
JK: I don’t think it was $50. I think I’d remember it if it was $50. That would have seemed like a lot of money to me. I will say, the guitar I was playing, Eric, and Anaïs, would have been the same guitar that I still play – the Guild that we made our records with and that Eric played on our recent tour.
AM: I spent some time with that guy.
Eric, I want to hear your story.
EDJ: I got you gonna beat financially by a couple bucks. When I was like 17, my friend Steve and I decided I was going to join Steve’s band just as a singer, but I was too scared to just sing and stand there. I did not know how to play guitar. So, I got a crash course in guitar from Steve. Steve came to one of our shows last summer, I think, or two summers ago when we opened up for [Bruce] Hornsby.
Steve gave me a crash course in guitar, but I didn’t really know how to apply guitar chords to cover songs, you know? I was like, “I guess I’m going to have to write.” I immediately became a songwriter, because I was too dumb to learn how to play a Pink Floyd song or something like that.
All of a sudden we became this folk duo that played a mix of covers and originals, as I was learning chords. I learned how to play some covers. I think “Ripple” by the Grateful Dead was the first – speaking of Grateful Dead, Josh. We played at this cafe in our little downtown of our funny little suburb called Caffe Trieste. It was actually really cool. It was very ‘90s. When I remember it, it smelled like clove cigarettes in there and herbal tea. It was literally a coffee house, like from the old times where you smoke cigarettes and drink coffee at night and watch music. I’m not saying it was like Greenwich Village or something like that, but it was cool.
We would play there, but for no money. That was kind of like open mics and stuff like that. We played “Tangerine” by Led Zeppelin and we played “Ripple” by the Grateful Dead. I think we played “Wish You Were Here.” And then we played sort of a smattering of my originals, which were terrible.
But, I was at home [one day] and this is in 1993. My mom was like, “You have a phone call.” And it was some lady and she says, “My daughter, Katie, she’s turning fourteen and she’s a huge fan of your music. And will you play her birthday party?” And I was like, “What?” We don’t have a band or like fans or anything like that. But apparently this girl had seen us at a school assembly – where all we played was the Cheers theme – and she’s turning fourteen. I was like, “What type of money do you usually get for things like this?” But I sort of fumbled and before I could finish and name a price, she was like, “Would $150 be good?”
That was like an unfathomable amount of money. But she also wanted us to play two sets and play for like literally two hours in their living room. We had about 20 minutes worth of material.We went to the house. Her dad owned an automobile dealership, so the house was nice. It was a room full of thirteen and fourteen year old, she was a freshman and we were seniors. I just remember that. So maybe she was turning fifteen.
When we walked in, it was like Beatlemania. They like, screamed and stuff. There were parents, friends, and stuff who were there and they were kind of these wealthy people. My house was very unsophisticated and it felt like we had sort of stepped into this sophisticated realm of our like dumb little suburb. These were the elites! We played our show, only we had not learned more songs in order to play. So we did the Anaïs thing, but without the audience turnover. We just played things over again. And they asked us to play “Rocky Raccoon” by the Beatles. Then there was a set break and we had no more songs. We went out to Steve’s Jeep and got super high and then came back in and just played literally the same set again and doubled up on “Rocky Raccoon.” We played it four times in one night.
Anaïs Mitchell: What were you wearing? Did you dress up?
EDJ: I’m sure I was wearing something weird. I had a very schizophrenic style at the time. It was the ‘90s! I would wear plaid ‘60s golf pants, but I had this shirt that was a bread truck delivery shirt that had the name “Byron” on it like a name tag. My hair looked like Jason Priestley from 90210. I hadn’t honed my style yet, but I’m sure I just tried to dress up cool.
It was quite a first taste.
AM: That’s amazing. You might be the only band to play “Rocky Raccoon” four times in a show.
JK: The Beatles never played it one time in a show, I don’t think. So you beat the Beatles.
EDJ: Someone asked me this question recently – and you don’t have to answer with a modern band, because it could be more controversial – but what’s a band that’s iconic, that people love, that you’re like, “Not that…”
JK: Oh, Annie has a list of these they’re called like, unimpeachable bands that she doesn’t want to listen to. That she wants to impeach.
AM: I want to know her list!
JK: For instance, I think the Stones are on there. She’s like, “I mean, sure, the Stones are great or whatever, but I don’t want to listen to them.”
EDJ: For the Situation readers, by the way, this is Annie, Josh’s wife [we’re talking about]. Annie Nero.
JK: Yeah! But, for my own… let me think about that for a second.
AM: I have one, maybe. Maybe it’s going to be the same.
EDJ: Mine’s a little bit The Smiths – I actually think that the band sounds great. It’s sort of like The Doors, for me, where I’m not as into the front person [as I am the band], and I have to believe in the front person.
My other one is that I love Bob Dylan, but he’s like my 18th favorite songwriter. It’s still really high up there in the pantheon of songwriters, but probably a very low ranking as far as Dylan goes. I know Dylan’s a big one for you, Josh, but for me I have seventeen others I put above him. That’s an arbitrary number, but yeah.
AM: I was gonna say Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young. I’d be interested in hearing Annie’s whole list, ’cause I do wanna say, I feel like it’s a gendered thing. I’m not even gonna be eloquent about it, but I do think we have deified certain male artisan bands.
Where it’s like, “Aren’t you into this?” And I’m like, “Actually no.” But I sort of feel like they’re unimpeachable. Like I’m supposed to be like, “Oh yeah, CSNY!!” But my feelings are complex about CSNY, because I love Neil Young and I love Graham Nash. I think it’s really David Crosby – rest in peace – that like, for somehow I’m [hung up on]. I read about how he produced the first Joni Mitchell record and, for me, Joni’s like the top of the totem. Reading about their dynamic, back in the day [is troubling.]
Everyone loved Crosby. She had to kind of be like, “Oh my God, it’s Cros!” You know, but she was Joni Mitchell! I couldn’t really feel that stuff. Yeah, that’s gonna be my band. It’s frustrating.
Sorry, we canceled. [Laughs]
EDJ: No, I think CSNY is a reasonable one!
JK: I was gonna say The Who, honestly. The Who are awesome and everything and certainly there’s ‘60s garage [rock] stuff that’s fun and everything.
EDJ: I think it’s okay to throw fire at those guys. Dylan can take it and be pissed. They can fucking take it!
JK: I guess I feel like that’s lazy of me.
I think Anaïs’ comment about this sort of Mount Rushmore of at the time, early 20s baby boomer white men [was well made]. When they were very young with guitars, for some reason, we’ve decided that those guys are the best.
EDJ: It’s like the Rolling Stone magazine “top 40 cool guys” list. It’s like a mural at a guitar center in suburban Atlanta that you stopped at on tour.
But also Anaïs, sidebar, in my seventeen songwriters above Dylan, Joni Mitchell is my number one, so…
JK: She’s at the top of my list for sure, but I think in the top zone. I don’t know if they’re like tiered necessarily, because since it is art and stuff, it does sort of depend on the opening that I have for it on any given day to enter my heart.
AM: I got a couple more. You guys, this is going to be wild. Well, maybe not. I mean, you guys know me pretty well, because it’s some of these things, the music is undeniable and has shaped other music, but it’s not for me, you know? I would put the Beatles in that category.
JK: I was waiting for you to say that!
AM: I would put both [CSNY and the Beatles] in there. And I sort of appreciate it when I hear it. Like when I hear it coming out of someone’s car or on the radio or whatever, but I will never put that music on myself.
EDJ: I feel like with Beatles, if it didn’t catch you at a certain moment it’s a tough, massive thing to dig into. I didn’t get into Joni until I was 30, and it was like one of the pivotal musical moments of my life.
That’s not to say, “I think you have to be 38 to get into Joni,” but I think for whatever reason, she’s so deep and cool and crazy that I think it took me having a little life behind me to sort of understand what it was about. Someone who had seen clouds from both sides now, like at that point, it hit me like super hard.
I think Beatles, talk about iconography and stuff like that! It’s like, I totally get it. But I can’t. I love the Beatles. It exists in my musical and our band’s musical DNA. I’m never not thinking about like a McCartney melody.
AM: I had some grand thought while you were just saying that, about when you encounter music and when it speaks to you. Because yes, if you’re fourteen, if you’re fifteen discovering Ani DiFranco as I was. She became like my whole raison d’etre, but then for someone discovering her later, at a different time in their life or whatever, it’s different. You had to be a certain age to get the Joni.
And, I wanted to talk about the Grateful Dead because, like the Beatles, I might’ve put them in [this category] if we had spoken a different time, but now I know and love you guys. I sort of became like a late-blooming deadhead, because of your love for the dead. I really got into it and really into the lyrics. I genuinely, really appreciate that music now, in a way that I didn’t like, ten years ago. Part of that is because I love you guys.
I kind of love how your love for people then transfers to your love for the things that they love. And that then becomes a thing that you love.
JK: I totally feel that. I’m not going to name any names here, because I feel like it could be misconstrued, but I do feel like I remember early on going out and opening up for bands with friends and at the beginning of it having already made up my mind about this music or something. But then, getting to know these people intimately over the course of a month and having these accelerated friendships as a result of being around each other every day and sort of falling for what they’re doing a little bit. Or maybe, at least being way more open to it than I ever would have been just hearing it on the radio or hearing it in a friend’s car.
So much music [from] growing up I associate with people that I love, for sure. Getting into Bob Dylan ‘cause I love my dad. At a young age like, “This guy’s obsessed with this guy!” And I guess I’m kind of obsessed with this guy who’s into this guy.
A funny one for me is They Might Be Giants. I love the songwriting of They Might Be Giants and I love that band so much, but I wouldn’t expect one of you guys to get into it now if you weren’t into it when you were fourteen. You know what I mean?
EDJ: I love the point you made Josh, about touring with bands or something, especially in the indie rock days, where you’re really like up in each other’s grills. You bond in a kind of a different way. …
You guys, we have four minutes left. What are your top three favorite foods, Josh.
JK: My top three favorite foods, um… Today I would say, I like Szechuan Chinese food. I like Greek food. And I like Italian food. You know, all the classic Northern Italian things and all the Roman pasta stuff. I mean, who am I kidding, right?
I’m going genres, not dishes, because for me, it’s definitely more about a palette than it is about a specific [dish]. You know, grilled fish and lemon and tomatoes and cucumbers. If I want something in that zone, then I want Greek food. If I want spicy, zingy Szechuan peppercorn, it doesn’t really matter what it is, it could be like shrimp or tofu or chicken, or it could just be string beans. I just get in the mood and go in that direction.
EDJ: Anaïs, what do you got?
AM: I just got so hungry when you described the fish with the lemon and then the tomatoes, Josh. Now that’s what I want. All right. The first thing I’m going to say is Josh’s food. I want not what you just said, but food that Josh Kaufman cooks. I would like the fluffy eggs that you make sometimes. And also one time you whipped up a chicken soup. Do you remember that? You just whipped it up so fast and it was the best chicken soup I’ve ever had.
JK: Oh, I love that. That’s so sweet. I love cooking for you guys.
AM: I also love and I recently had– do you remember the place Wang’s in Park Slope? It’s kind of like fried chicken, Southern stuff, but then also is it Korean?
JK: Korean fried chicken? I think, right?
AM: I had something like that with Ramona, my older daughter recently, and I was like, “Oh my God, this is very delicious.”
Eric, you tell us yours.
EDJ: Oysters, shrimp cocktail, nachos… uh, buffalo wings. And that’s it. Love you guys.
AM: Love you.
EDJ: Love you. Hopefully it’s all turned out awesome and we have so many cool things to talk about. I’ll see yous on Thursday night!
Artist:JEMS Hometown: Los Angeles, California Latest Album:Back Around Personal nicknames (or rejected band names): Wild Valley Dream Weavers, lots of others!
Which artist has influenced you the most – and how?
I grew up with Joni Mitchell. For every season of life, her music feels like the soundtrack. I find myself returning to songs and finding new meanings as my scope continues to broaden and deepen. Her voice is unapologetically her own and I am so inspired by her journey. – Emily
What was the first moment that you knew you wanted to be a musician?
When my dad played me the song “Eleanor Rigby” I had a major lightbulb moment. I don’t think I had realized how powerful music as storytelling was until then. I must’ve been 8 or 9 and my imagination burst wide open. – Jess
Probably when I started playing the songs I was writing as a kid for my Dad. He was both kind and critical in ways that confirmed that I wanted to work on and share my songs with not just him, but everyone. – Sarah Margaret
Genre is dead (long live genre!), but how would you describe the genres and styles your music inhabits?
We each have distinct vocal timbres and have been influenced by the genres we grew up listening to, from jazz and soul to indie rock to classical and film scores to folk and Americana. That diversity adds a richness to our blend and has influenced how we approach melody, harmony, and storytelling. As a trio, we live in the folk world, but lean into many other lanes depending on the instrumentation and production of each song.
If you didn’t work in music, what would you do instead?
I’d be a hairdresser. I cut and color hair for fun/therapy and I truly love it. Although I don’t know if I’d love it as much if I had to do it… – Jess
I’d be a private chef. I love going to farmer’s markets, learning from local farmers and artisans, and expressing myself through food. Maybe it’s the French in me! – Emily
A marine biologist, or boat captain, or something that lets me be in and around the ocean all the time. – Sarah Margaret
If you were a color, what shade would you be – and why?
Gold! I’d don’t know why, but I’ve just always felt like the sunshine. – Jess
Olive green. I’d like to be as warm, relaxing, and grounded as that color! – Sarah Margaret
Soon after Earl Scruggs and Lester Flatt ended their partnership and their band The Foggy Mountain Boys in 1969, Earl created The Earl Scruggs Revue with his sons. They recorded for a major label, Columbia, and toured regularly until 1980, disbanding in 1982. This is the story of how I came to see, hear and take extensive notes about their 1975 concert at the University of Maine.
In 1969 I was living in St. John’s, Newfoundland, working at Memorial University’s folklore department where I taught a yearly course, Introduction to Folk Song. I knew that bluegrass drew from folk traditions in the U.S. Southeast, for I had been playing bluegrass and writing about it for a decade. But I could tell my students little about the Canadian milieu. So, in the early ‘70s I began research in Canada’s Maritime provinces of Nova Scotia, Prince Edward Island, and New Brunswick
In August 1974, I moved to New Brunswick for a year’s sabbatical. My research project was a study of regional and local relationships between country music and folk music traditions. I did extensive fieldwork – interviews and documenting events, collecting music.
That fall, I met a singer-collector of country records and song folios, a perfect example of the kind of folk-country connection I was studying. I recorded several hours of his songs and began contemplating publishing them in an album.
I thought at once of Rounder, a new record company that had been publishing innovative roots albums. I’d met the Rounders – Ken Irwin, Bill Nowlin and Marian Leighton, a music collective – at an American Folklore Society meeting. They knew me as a writer about and collector of bluegrass.
Early in the new year I arranged to visit them. In February 1975, I set out in the family pickup with my ten-year-old daughter Lisa from our farmhouse in Pleasant Villa, New Brunswick to Brooksville, Maine, where we visited relatives. Lisa stayed with them while I drove further south to Somerville, Massachusetts, to visit the Rounders.
David Menconi, in his new book, Oh, Didn’t They Ramble (U of NC Press), describes well the scene at the Rounder collective’s big old Somerville house, with their newly flourishing roots music record company. We discussed projects, they took me down to the basement to see their mail order records inventory, and I came back to Brooksville with a load of LPs and lots of news about the contemporary bluegrass world.
Brooksville is a little over an hour away from Orono, site of the University of Maine, where my friend, Edward D. “Sandy” Ives, lived. Sandy was a great writer, a folklorist who’d studied and published books about 19th century singer-songmakers in Maine and the Maritimes. I was looking forward to discussing my ongoing research with him. After I returned from visiting the Rounders, we drove up to Orono to see Sandy and his wife, Bobby.
When we got to Orono, a young friend and former student of mine at Memorial, Lisa Feldman, was staying with the Ives. It was she who alerted us about the Earl Scruggs Revue concert and went along with us to it.
In St. John’s, I regularly bought new bluegrass albums by mail order from County Sales. I don’t recall paying much attention to the Revue then. County didn’t carry their albums.
Revue albums were not easy to find in Newfoundland. Working on a Flatt & Scruggs discography and, admiring Scruggs’ banjo artistry, I wanted to hear his contemporary work. I bought all the Revue albums I could find. By the fall of 1974, when I moved to New Brunswick for the sabbatical, I’d gotten seven.
Those records were in storage back in Newfoundland for the year, but I’d brought my stereo set along and by December I’d found a new Revue album, Rocking Across the Country (Columbia KC 32943). There was nice Dobro on it by Josh Graves and one great instrumental composed by Earl, “Silver Eagle” – named, presumably, for the band’s bus.
During that year I was doing field research at music events and venues – bars, jamborees, concerts, jams – and had developed a system of documenting them. I carried a 3″ by 5″ notebook (spiral binding, ruled pages) and took notes. This was with me all the time and so it just seemed like an easy thing to take notes as usual at this concert.
What follows are my notes from that February 7, 1975, concert, written up from my notebook when I returned to Pleasant Villa the following week.
Friday, February 7, 1975 Orono, Maine Report on Earl Scruggs Revue Concert at the University of Maine, Orono.
Tickets were $3.50. I went with Sandy Ives, and we were joined at the concert by Lisa Feldman and by [Sandy’s wife] Bobby and [their daughter] Sarah Ives and [my daughter] Lisa R., who had all gone to see a Robin Hood movie. The concert was sponsored by the student union and represented a slight departure from previous concerts of this type in that instead of bringing high-powered “name” outfits on which a lot of money had been lost, they were now trying slightly less expensive acts. The concert committee was dominated by frat boys who didn’t know about music, according to Lisa [F.].
Site of the event was the basketball gym. Folding chairs were placed on the court, and wooden bleachers were placed around the side (these might have been permanent, but seemed moveable… small point). There were balcony seats on both sides and at one end, the end over the doors through which we entered. At the other end a stage was set up. Dominated by big columns and horns on either side – your typical rock concert setup. Sandy and I took seats on the left side of the bleachers (as you face the stage), about three rows up and we were about 2/3 to 3/4 of the way back from the stage toward the entry doors. Directly ahead of us in the middle of the floor was a raised platform on which the controls for the sound were set, along with a chair or two for the operator(s?). Behind this, higher and close to the back, was another platform with the lights. During the concert the colors were constantly being changed and moved about from tune to tune by a light man who must have known something about the Scruggs show in advance.
The audience consisted of college students almost exclusively. I didn’t see any old-time Martha White fans or country music types. Dress was Levi’s and hippie mufti – knit caps, ragged but interesting coats, vests, long dresses, patches, etc. There was a lot of smoking going on and some drinking. Before the show a long-haired young man who represented the powers that be got up and told the audience that there was no smoking and no drinking and that if they were caught, they would be ejected from the show by the campus police. In addition he said that, if you must smoke, then don’t get caught. But also, he said, please don’t put out your butts on the floor of the basketball court – a lot were last time, and the University is threatening to not let them have concerts if this continues. Burden of the speech: Here are the ground rules, don’t get caught, play it cool.
The campus police were cruising up and down the aisles dressed in dark blue uniforms with dark blue shirts and black ties with dark blue Stetsons. Something like Civil War Union Army officers in movies. And they were looking very serious and hawk-like.
The warm-up act was introduced, as a group from Boston, “Beckett.” The group consisted of Phil B. (missed his last name, [Buller]), who came on playing a D28 guitar and a harmonica, Steve Delaney, playing an electric bass, and Jaime Michaels, who played a D18 Martin guitar and did the emcee and lead singing in the first few numbers. Later they all switched around, with each doing some lead singing and some emceeing. I took notes in the darkened auditorium with a fancy movie critic’s pen that [then wife] Ann had given me — lights up in the dark, illuminating one’s pad. As it were.
The first song was “CLEAR BLUE SKY.” There were a few catcalls from the balcony and a rather tentative feeling from the audience. A whiff of authentic marijuana smoke drifted my way during this (and subsequent songs), and I could see people lighting up in various places. Later, the folks next to me surreptitiously passed a bottle (beer, I think) around. At the end of the first song, the Beckett emcee made a sly crack about “Maine Mounties” and from there the show built — they had the audience with them.
Next song was “SOMETHING NEW.” As all this was going on, the cops were cruising up and down the aisles, occasionally throwing people out, but generally arriving on the scene after the cigarette had been extinguished. They were on the lookout for tell-tale lights, and one time one went by us while I was jotting down a note with my fancy pen. He gave me a hard look and some of the people around me had a good giggle about that.
Next song, [“WE ARE FREE”]. These guys weren’t musically bad, but I could not really get into their music. The harmony singing was kind of Crosby/Stills/Nash and actually a bit weak; the instrumental aspect of it was bland. A note here says “harelip,” but when you wait ten days before writing up your notes you forget the jokes, I guess. Next one of the boys took up an Ovation guitar – this was Phil B., and the song was “LAST TUESDAY MORNING.” Then Jaimie mentioned that they were from Virginia and that they considered it an honor to be appearing with the Earl Scruggs Revue. Then they did “TENNESSEE.” Next, “I’LL TRY IF YOU’LL TRY.” Most of their songs were their own compositions, I guess. I didn’t recognize any of the above; the names in brackets are ones they didn’t announce that I guessed at from the words. Now Phil took up the Ovation again Steve took an electric guitar and they did a song they had written while in Pittsburgh, [“STOLE AWAY”]. Using the same instrumentation, which, incidentally, sounded better than the acoustics – that is, the electric came over with much more tone – they did “PERFECT HONEY.”
Now another instrument switch with Phil taking up an old Gibson J50 guitar and Steve going back to the bass. The song was introduced as a “folk song” for reasons which eluded me at the time. It was “SEARCHING,” but not the Coasters’ smash hit. With the same instrumentation, they then launched into a song written either by or about some friends in Boston, “COUNTY LINE.” Then, as their final tune, a song they introduced as being by Joni Mitchell and needing no introduction (?). It was well received by the audience, and they got an encore.
They came on and did a song which they introduced as a real old one by that old bluesman Eric Von Schmidt (time flies – I remember Rolf Cahn telling me in 1959 that he’d been picking with a really good kid in Boston who even did some slide guitar, a kid named Rick Von Schmidt). Song was “AIN’T NOBODY’S BUSINESS BUT YOU OWN,” and they did it well. Kids in the front of the audience got up and started waving their hands in the air, literally surrendering to the music. For the second encore, it was another Von Schmidt tune, “GRIZZLY BEAR (SOLID GONE).”
Another intermission, punctuated by further entreaties by the same fellow. By this point, the cops were less in evidence although during the second half they did eject several people sitting around me.
Enter the Earl Scruggs Revue, who plug in and pick away at once on “NASHVILLE SKYLINE RAG.” Across the front of the stage are three microphones; at my left stands Stevie Scruggs, who plays rhythm guitar (a Gallagher) most of the evening, except for one banjo tune. Next to him is Randy, who is bent over his Gallagher guitar, doing the lead work. Characteristically I guess you never see his face when he’s picking, he’s looking at the fingers and anyhow is surrounded by hair. Later, in various numbers which I didn’t note, he plays a bright red Gibson electric with twin cutouts and a thin (hollow?) body, which has a very mellow tone.
Next to him, in stage center, is Earl. Earl’s Mastertone is electrified with some sort of pickup inside, a Barkus-Berry or FRAP of some kind I guess. This surprised me, as did the fact that he was wearing the instrument much lower than when he played with Flatt. He was not bopping around as much as the boys (who, in turn, were not bopping around as much as many or most rock groups), but he was looking very relaxed, had the old smile of yore, and did move when he played more than I remember from the Martha White days. On the right and, rather standing back was poker-faced Gary, who played bass and did the lead singing. When there was any part singing done, Earl and Randy took the center mic, Steve the left-hand one, and, behind them Jody Maphis took his vocal parts on a separate mike over the drums. To my right behind and to the right of Gary, was a piano where Jack Lee the pianist sat. This is the same guy on the cover of the Rockin’ Across the Country album. [This is not correct. The guy on the cover of Rockin’ is Shane Keister, who is listed on the album cover as “keyboard instruments.”]
My first impression was one of tightness, in the sense that the band was really together and tight. And although I can’t say I like Earl’s banjo sound as well with the volts surging through it, it was sounding like a banjo and Earl did get quite a few tonal nuances from it without the visible aid of a tone control. Randy was as good as the recordings led me to expect, however, he frequently seemed to be “grandstanding” it, by playing freak-out type rock licks way up the neck which were spectacular and, effective in terms of inciting the audience, but which were as far as I was concerned not as nice musically as the well thought out stuff he did or does on record. So I was a bit disappointed in Randy.
My reaction to Earl was just the opposite. He has sounded a bit stiff and mechanical on the records I have heard (and I got ‘em all, Jack), but tonight he was nicely in the groove and seemed to have some very interesting new ideas, especially rhythmic variations, which I hadn’t heard before. He really seemed to be enjoying himself, too. After this tune, the members were introduced and they went right into “I SHALL BE RELEASED,” following which, Earl introduced the next song as an old “shouting type number,” “PAUL AND SILAS.”
Gary’s singing is o.k., it fits the music and sells the songs to the rock programmed audience. Doesn’t bother me, doesn’t excite me; seems to be better in person than on record, and better on recent record than on older records. Earl next says this is an old number he used to play at square dances back when they only had one instrument, and he says, “We’ll show you what it was like to do it alone and then we’ll show you why I was so glad when someone else came by with their instruments to help me out.” He doesn’t announce it, but it’s “SALLY GOODIN.” Intro and arrangement are as on the Kansas State album. They really get rolling (and rocking) on this one, with Earl and Randy engaging in some nice banjo-guitar call-response stuff. The audience responds here as it does again and again later on to the faster tunes, by standing up and waving their hands, shouting, etc. Following this, Earl mentions the Kansas State album by saying that the next tune is on it, an old Jimmie Rodgers tune, “T FOR TEXAS.” Next, Randy is to pick a fiddle tune on the guitar, and it turns out to be “BLACK MOUNTAIN BLUES.”
The next tune, an instrumental, was a [Blues in F] and then, coming without an announcement was “MOST LIKELY YOU GO YOUR WAY (AND I’LL GO MINE),” which has a nice arrangement with some good banjo work by Earl. The next song is introduced by Gary as one which dad wrote about the place in North Carolina where he grew up, “FLINT HILL SPECIAL.” Gary takes a harmonica break on this one.
Then, a novelty item — Randy and Jody play a tune written by Elizabeth Cotten (Earl is talking – I was gassed that he gave the tune proper credit, this really shows the kind of considerate and thoughtful person I like to think he is), on one guitar! Here Jody gets up front, from behind his drums, and he & Randy stand near the center of the stage and Randy does the right hand (the guitar, a Gallagher is hung from around his neck) and Jody does the left. Then, while Jody does the simple left hand, Randy does some fancy up the neck left hand stuff too, making it into a very interesting and rather complex piece of music. They also gag it up a bit, swinging the guitar back and forth at the end, in time to a leg-swinging rock dance step thing. Nice job, boys. “FREIGHT TRAIN” was the tune, of course.
Now one of the boys (Gary?) introduces Earl doing an old Carter Family tune on the guitar. This is “YOU ARE MY FLOWER,” which Gary sings and my impression was that the sound not as nice and delicate as on the recordings of that that Earl did a few years back. Next it’s Stevie’s turn – he does “EARL’S BREAKDOWN” on Earl’s banjo and it’s very hard to hear, giving me the impression that he hasn’t mastered the tune that well or that in any case hasn’t worked out tone production and control on the electrified instrument the way his father has. The next tune I noted only as [“FATHER TOLD ME”] and I’m at a loss to identify it from their recordings. Then, of course, the song which “Daddy wrote for a television series,” “THE BALLAD OF JED CLAMPETT” done as an instrumental. Followed by Randy’s guitar version of “ORANGE BLOSSOM SPECIAL,” which is a crowd rouser/etc.
Next comes Gary’s interesting song “EVERYBODY WANTS TO GO TO HEAVEN (NOBODY WANTS TO DIE),” which features in this performance a slide banjo sequence by Earl, in which he’s picking along, then takes his left hand off the fingerboard, reaching into his pocket (I think, what?!) and pulling out a slide and doing a couple bars of that kinda stuff. Grandstanding, but fun, and the audience can’t miss it. “STEP IT UP AND GO” is next and then “one that Dad wrote in 1949 and in 1968 they used it for the theme to a movie called Bonnie and Clyde,” “FOGGY MOUNTAIN BREAKDOWN,” which is the final number and leaves ‘em screaming for more so they do: “CAROLINA BOOGIE,” which has some nice call-response parts and leads to a second encore in which they do “BUGLE CALL RAG,” “LITTLE MAGGIE” (bless her soul).
The audience wants more but the lights are turned on.
(Editor’s Note: Neil Rosenberg’s Bluegrass Memoirs on the Earl Scruggs Revue will be continued.)
Author’s Note: For a contrasting review see Hub Nitchie, “Pull the Plug, Earl” in Banjo Newsletter II:6 (April 1975), p. 13.
Stripping away convention, honing in on narrative, and keeping complex melodies afloat with her ethereal vocals, Sarah Jarosz is a superlative presence in the roots music landscape. The daughter of two schoolteachers hailing from Wimberley, Texas, she began learning to play the mandolin at age 9. By the time she turned 12, Sarah was already gracing stages alongside the likes of musical giants David Grisman and Ricky Skaggs.
Her multi-instrumentalist capabilities and songwriting proficiency only grew from there; at the age of 16, Jarosz signed a deal with Sugar Hill Records and released her first album, Song Up in Her Head, in 2009. This critically acclaimed record would be the first of what now surmounts to seven full-length, tremendously lauded projects. Polaroid Lovers, Jarosz’s latest and the muse of her current tour, is set to be released on January 26, 2024.
Over the span of nearly two decades spent recording and touring, Sarah Jarosz has established herself as a foundational thread in the tapestry of modern roots music. From impeccable collaborations (with Punch Brothers, David Grisman, Sierra Ferrell), to forming a supergroup alongside Aoife O’Donovan and Sarah Watkins (I’m With Her), to a whopping 5 hours and 45 minutes of music published under her name, Jarosz stands firmly in her power. As she forges ahead, she only continues to outdo herself.
While her entire catalog is sure to edify any listener, this compilation showcases some of Jarosz’s most essential tracks. Tracing the arc of her musicianship from adolescence to adulthood, the following 17 songs demonstrate the particular sonic maturity, lyrical astuteness, and emotional evocation that span all she creates.
“Mansinneedof”
From Jarosz’s first album, Song Up in Her Head, this indelible instrumental boldly answers the question, “Can a mandolin be a lead instrument?” with a resounding, “Of course!” The first of many Grammy nominations acquired throughout her career, this tune was considered for Best Country Instrumental in 2009. Impossibly advanced beyond her years, Jarosz’s nimble and articulate melody is akin to a sonic coast through star-studded galaxies.
“Come On Up To The House”
In a clear demonstration of the range of her musical influences, the most-streamed song from Sarah’s inaugural album is a cover of Tom Waits’s “Come On Up To The House.” Her cool, slippery voice lends a new angle to the iconic tune. Paired with astute backing vocals from Tim O’Brien and a slick fiddle solo by Alex Hargreaves, this song grooves right along – an ingenious, albeit unlikely, bluegrass cover.
“Annabelle Lee”
Jarosz’s sophomore album, Follow Me Down, is latent with a mystical quality that reaches towards the ethers, shepherded into expansiveness by a creative spectrum of influences. The third track, “Annabelle Lee,” features lyrics adapted from the illustrious Edgar Allen Poe poem of the same name. Jarosz sets the eerie tale against a conglomerate of haunting textures – the heightened pace and drums evoke a sense of urgency while Jerry Douglas makes his lap steel wail, a somber cello moans, and Dan Tyminski’s backing vocals lend fullness to the ravenous depths of this dark tune. It is also worth noting that Jarosz performed and recorded this tune, very fittingly filmed in an old hunting lodge in the Scottish Highlands, for the Transatlantic Sessions in 2011. (Watch above.)
“The Tourist”
Sarah sure knows how to pick a cover. From Prince to the Decemberists to Joanna Newsom, she can masterfully braid her grace and artistry into anything. “The Tourist” offers Jarosz’s take on Radiohead, an influence cited among many of Jarosz’s contemporaries, including Madison Cunningham and Chris Thile. In fact, Punch Brothers provide the musical backdrop on this track, their syncopated rhythms and blustery fills meeting Jarosz and Thile’s airtight harmonies to create a sense of whirling, palpable, delicate angst.
“Build Me Up From Bones”
Off of her Grammy-nominated third album, this titular track received an additional nom for Best American Roots Song of 2014. This song is SJ’s most popular of all time, having racked up a total of 70.7M streams on Spotify. Here, Jarosz’s songwriting forges into new territory; her lyrics are both poetic and measured, imbued with textures of velvety longing. The form matches the content, from Aoife O’Donovan’s dewy harmonies to the pizzicato string section to the gorgeous cello solo. Effectively, listeners are bathed in a most intimate listening experience that beckons infinite re-listens.
“1,000 Things”
In another track off of Build Me Up From Bones, here SJ shares songwriting credits with the legendary Darrell Scott. The result? Pure synastry. Underscored by pulsating Celtic rhythms, this uptempo earworm says 1,000 things despite its brevity.
“House of Mercy”
This tune, along with the album carrying it – Undercurrent – won Sarah her first two Grammys in one night. “House of Mercy” was crowned Best American Roots Performance of 2017, and it was indubitably worthy. Jarosz shares songwriting credits with Australian singer-songwriter Jedd Hughes, and together they achieve a dark story arc as the encumbered narrator addresses an unwanted visitor. Jarosz opens up her sound into cutting, fierce Americana twang – effectively offering audiences a new layer to her multitudes of sound.
“Jacqueline”
The closing track of Undercurrent is stark, honest, and bewildering. The song is named after the Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis Reservoir in New York City where Jarosz, who once lived nearby, would often do her pondering. Accompanied solely by an electric guitar, Jarosz’s voice is agile and glimmering as liquid silver. She muses over the reflective surface and projected companion while disclosing her own state of unease, immersing listeners in an intimate, unyielding pensiveness.
“Your Water” (with Parker Millsap)
The first of a two-single release titled the Luck Mansion Sessions (2017), SJ here collaborates with fellow singer-songwriter and multi-instrumentalist Parker Millsap. The track, written and originally released by Millsap, is delivered as a duet. The groove opens up into a soul-type feel, allowing for Sarah to showcase a more raw, bluesy, unmeasured latitude of her voice.
“See You Around”
“See You Around” is the title track off of supergroup I’m With Her’s first and – to every listener’s chagrin – only full-length album. In 2018, Jarosz linked up with two of the most astounding women in roots music, Aoife O’Donovan and Sara Watkins, to form a trio of unadulterated excellence (it should be noted that that group won Americana Music Association’s Music Duo/Group of the Year). The album waffles between the three songwriters’ contributions, with each vocalist singing lead on an approximately even number of tracks. “See You Around” is driven by Jarosz’s signature poetic lyrics and fluttery melody, elevated to new horizons by the pristine, angelic blend of harmonies from Watkins and O’Donovan. The musical chemistry these women share evokes the divine; every single song on this album delivers listeners into the sublime.
“Johnny”
For her also Grammy-winning fifth studio album, World on the Ground (2020), Sarah Jarosz invites listeners to experience an array of vignettes; her songs on this album, more than ever, become vehicles for potent storytelling.“Johnny” is the second of three tracks on the album named, presumably, for a character the song aims to illustrate. Jarosz has said that during this album, she “[Tried] to take a step back and look out at the world in my songwriting, rather than looking inward,” and spent much time constructing the album as a patchwork of memories from her hometown in Texas, both faithful and fictionalized.
“Johnny” conveys the psychological landscape of a slightly drunk, slightly disillusioned man who is “just waitin’ on the stars/ that will never align.” It’s all slightly devastating, yet the melody latches onto an unforgettable earworm of a hook uplifted by its folk-pop flavor. Jarosz incorporates a strings section alongside drums, electric guitar, and mandolin, seamlessly using the nuances of sound to bolster the complex mundanities of Johnny’s life.
“Pay It No Mind”
Jarosz shares the songwriting credits on “Pay It No Mind” (also off of World on the Ground) with the renowned John Leventhal, who also produced the album and plays a slew of instruments sprinkled throughout. The song begins with just Sarah and a pensive guitar riff, musing upon a bird and her ponderings. The song then builds in dynamics, layering percussion and eventually a full orchestration of instruments and vocals. It’s slick, it’s sly, and it looks at the world with a cool sense of distance.
“I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For” / “my future”
In the midst of quarantine, Sarah Jarosz committed to staying connected with fans by using Garageband and her home microphone to record one cover each week from July to October of 2020. In January 2021, she released two of the covers, U2’s “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For” and Billie Eilish’s “my future,” on streaming services. These barebones covers are a time capsule of a moment drenched in emotion, isolation, and fear. Catharsis swells through the minimalistic recordings – Jarosz cradles her whole soul into these songs, and the results are absolutely astounding.
“Mama”
For her sixth full-length studio album, Blue Heron Suite (2021), Sarah Jarosz released a song cycle that she first premiered at Freshgrass in 2017, whereupon she was awarded with the Freshgrass Composition Commission. At the time, Sarah was reckoning with her mother’s cancer diagnosis and reflecting upon childhood trips to the town of Port Aransas, Texas, which at that time had recently been severely affected by Hurricane Harvey. Named for the Great Blue Herons she and her mother used to observe along the town’s shore, this album is imbued with love and hope in its deepest forms. “Mama,” the opening track, is an utterly gorgeous, pared-down arrangement of voice and guitar – a most gentle and tender ode to Jarosz’s mother, who is thankfully now in remission.
“For Free” (with David Crosby)
An astonishing songwriter and pioneer of three-part harmony in American roots/folk music as we know it, David Crosby was a long time supporter of Sarah Jarosz’s work up until his passing last January. Sarah graced the title track of Crosby’s final full-length solo album, For Free (2021). The two sing the entirety of this Joni Mitchell cover in tight harmony, their voices mirroring one another perfectly. The pared back solo piano accompaniment highlights the duo’s vocal finesse; every riff is intertwined with precision and elegance.
“Jealous Moon”
“Jealous Moon” was the first of four singles SJ released from her upcoming album, Polaroid Lovers (out this Friday). Co-written alongside Daniel Tashian, the record’s producer, Sarah remarks of the song, “I’m always seeking to push myself into new sonic territory, and this song gave me permission to not hold back.” In this track, she boldly steps away from her traditional acoustic tethers and moves towards a more pop-rock-twang fusion. Jarosz successfully elicits a sense of novelty while still embodying the sense of fullness and depth she puts into all she creates – reminding us that we still have yet to see the full bloom of her artistry.
Zach Day stands out as an artist who has developed his own sound. His writing is venerable and filled with emotion, his voice is professional and polished, and his lyrics are clever, descriptive, and carefully crafted.
I loved hearing Zach’s responses for Out Now. It’s such a treat to gain insights into his mind, music, and process. Zach opens up about his experience growing up as an LGBTQ+ kid in Kentucky and how bittersweet it was, on the one hand, to be immersed in deep homophobia, but on the other, to be built into a beautiful Appalachian environment with inspiring storytelling, homegrown food, and the gift to sing with friends and family.
What’s your ideal vision for your future?
I have this dream of being able to make music full time, never having to worry about money to support my friends and family, and traveling the world with my partner. Eventually I will settle down on a little farm with a family milk cow and some chickens, maybe a couple kids, a big vegetable garden, and a porch with a swing and a bunch of people I love singing songs in harmony while I make a giant dinner for us all every weekend.
What is your greatest fear?
My greatest fear is not being able to accomplish everything that I have dreamed for myself and being forced to live a life of “What-ifs.” I’ve put a lot of pressure on myself and sometimes that freaks me out, because I worry I may never be satisfied. I have to work actively every day to calm myself down [over] these expectations, because it’ll send me into anxiety! That and the whale from Pinocchio… scared of him.
Why do you create music? What’s more satisfying to you, the process or the outcome?
I create music because I think I have a story that needs to be told. Being a queer person that was raised in the heart of Appalachia is a special and unique perspective. I was raised around amazing singers and musicians, but also I always felt like an observer of my surroundings. I choose to reflect on the great things I took from my raising. I have a huge heart for Appalachia and the stories that come from there. I was raised by generations of coal miners and farmers, teachers and preachers, gardeners and homemakers. I love to reflect on those sentiments in my music and I think you can hear it in my voice and in my songs.
Who are your favorite LGBTQ+ artists and bands?
I can’t get enough of Ethel Cain right now, I really look up to her and her writing skills. She’s inspiring me so much with how she is choosing to tell her stories. Also Searows… can’t get enough.
What are your release and touring plans for the next year?
I have a handful of songs being mixed and mastered right now on their way to streaming platforms and I plan to continue playing all over the place. I have shows booked in LA, Nashville, and NYC all within the next few months. My goal is to open for a big artist like Ethel Cain. I believe it can happen very soon.
You grew up in Kentucky. What was that experience like for you as a queer person?
Growing up in Kentucky as a queer person wasn’t easy. I didn’t even know I was gay until I was a bit older, but I had grown adults saying I couldn’t come to church with them, because they didn’t want a fag in their car. That was before I even knew I was gay. So I had this aura around me my whole childhood that I was different and I think that shifted my perspective on my life. In the good moments though, I could connect with music and really draw on the storytelling and lyrics that I heard to find inspiration. Appalachia is full of amazing storytelling and the environment and nature are so beautiful. I loved eating the food we would grow, I loved singing with my family and friends, and I loved hearing stories from artists like Mitch Barrett and Zoe Speaks.
You stand out as an artist who has developed your own sound. Your voice is professional, polished, and filled with emotion. Your lyrics are clever and descriptive, and the craftsmanship of your songwriting is phenomenal. What was the process of developing your identity as an artist?
Thank you for those kind words, that means a lot to me. I’m still developing my sound and my brand every day. As far as developing what I have at this point, I think that I did my homework for many years… I studied the greats and their subtle nuances… If Karen Carpenter or Joni Mitchell sang something that sent a shiver down my spine I would rewind it and try to emulate that to the best of my ability. If I heard a Dolly Parton lyric that moved me, I would let it sink into my being and ponder it. I just wanted to be able to write iconic songs and sing my face off – and I worked really hard to try and capture that. These days, I feel as though I’ve been leaning more into my Appalachian roots. I spent a long time running from what made me unique, but now I embrace it.
You recently spent some time living in LA and moved back to Nashville. What drew you to live in LA for a while, and what was that experience like for you?
I grew up always wanting to live in LA and experience that lifestyle. I was working with some folks that told me I would “do better” in LA and had a better chance at getting my music heard. But I don’t necessarily think that’s true. I love it there and I love it in Nashville as well. I’ve built a community in both places and have been fortunate enough to work with amazing people in both locations. I have my pockets of support in both cities and for that I’m super lucky. I just realized that I miss being in the woods too much to live in LA right now. I missed nature and I missed being able to turn off my phone and go for a run on a trail, down the road. I love being in the city from time to time but at the end of the day, I’m a country boy and it’s in my roots.
Artist:Elise Leavy Hometown: from Monterey, California; currently living in Lafayette, Louisiana Latest Album:A Little Longer Personal nicknames (or rejected band names): Doodle
Which artist has influenced you the most … and how?
Of course it’s somewhere between incredibly difficult and impossible to choose one person who has influenced me the most. I grew up listening to the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, Fleetwood Mac, Bob Dylan, Norah Jones, Simon & Garfunkel, Lucinda Williams, Crosby, Stills, & Nash, Neil Young, some strange and hauntingly beautiful Indian classical music that my mother loved, and countless other things that, if I didn’t stop myself, would flow from me in the passion of remembering things you hold tenderly, because you loved them as a child.
As an adult, I discovered Joni Mitchell – who became an angel that watched over me in my songwriting hours – Townes Van Zandt, and Tom Waits as well as the whole of country music and jazz that I never heard from the stereos of my parents. It all seeps in a little at a time, and I find I can hear it in my songs; they grow up and learn things just as I do. But I think the most magical thing is to occasionally hear something in my songs of the things I listened to as a child and loved with all my heart – now, after all these years, it’s all still there under the blanket of time.
What other art forms — literature, film, dance, painting, etc. — inform your music?
All of the above! I have always been an avid reader of romance novels and watcher of romantic comedies. I am sure I can’t have escaped their influence in the way I pursue my dreams in my life and career, and surely my songs reflect the dreams I pursue as much as they do the feelings I process.
As to painting … my mother is a painter and I was very used to having beautiful oil paintings watching over me as child; small boys on giant birds, tigers and strange monsters, women lounging in the nude, a man playing the fiddle. I can’t imagine growing up without these friends that hung on the walls and were propped up in the corners, accompanying me through childhood.
And now, I live in Louisiana, where music is almost entirely for dance, and I can’t say how it will change me over the years, but I am sure it will.
What was the first moment that you knew you wanted to be a musician?
I wrote my first song when I was 7 years old with the help of my step-dad, who is a musician. I remember I was (ironically) trying to learn “Fur Elise” on the piano, and instead of playing it correctly, I came up with something new and ended up writing a song about a rainy day called, “Yesterday It Was So Rainy.” I played this song at the talent show in 3rd or 4th grade, and I was so scared to be on stage by myself, I hired two little girls to stand behind me with umbrellas so I would have company on stage. Hard to say if I knew I wanted to be a musician at this point, but I suppose it sparked something, because I continued to play my songs at talent shows until I quit going to public school after 8th grade to pursue music. What has been the best advice you’ve received in your career so far?
“Listen to your gut.” I don’t trust anyone in the music business that tries to dissuade me from this advice! The complete confidence in my own feelings and needs being most important in the pursuit a career in music has been essential in order to effectively follow my dreams. It also doesn’t always mean I get the biggest record deals or most impressive streaming numbers, which is really hard to accept, especially with social media and the whole of the music industry barking at me all the time to appear more impressive. But it means I am continually pursuing my own happiness and continuing to have pride in and love for the music I am putting into the world – and retaining the rights to it, at least so far. The only hard thing about this particular piece of advice is knowing when it’s my gut talking and when it’s something else!
How often do you hide behind a character in a song or use “you” when it’s actually “me”?
Never, strangely! I wonder how other people answer this question? I am so honest about my feelings, I can’t imagine hiding anything in a character, or a story, or anything else. I’ve always been in awe of people who write songs from someone else’s point of view or story songs. The only thing you might say I hide behind is poetry. Metaphors are great magical beings and I am at the mercy of their magic. But really, I write songs because I have to. If I didn’t, I don’t know how I would get through all of the emotions of existence. It’s like going to therapy. I write my song, I cry (probably a lot), or sometimes I feel elated, and then I listen to it on repeat until the feeling ebbs enough to write a new one, or listen to someone else’s songs again. Maybe this is really weird. But I guess I always knew I was a weirdo.
Artist:Rachel Garlin Hometown: San Francisco, California Song: “Madelyne Why” Album:The Ballad of Madelyne and Therese Release Date: July 21, 2023
In Their Words: “During a family vacation at the beach, I saw a pair of tattered macrame sandals in the waves. They were tied together with a strip of linen, as if someone had carefully attached them before wildly abandoning them. Interested in this tension – care, attachment, abandon, abandonment – I strummed some chords in a Joni Mitchell-esque ‘open tuning’ while spinning out a tale of a fictional beach-goer who had left me this clue to her life-story. The original version was called “Caroline Why,” but I tired of singing Caroline (so many songs with that name!) and so I asked a few friends to suggest names that had a similar cadence to Caroline and Madelyne rose to the top.” – Rachel Garlin
Artist:Ellis Paul Hometown: Charlottesville, Virginia Latest album:55 (available June 9, 2023)
Which artist has influenced you the most … and how?
I can’t say which artist has inspired me “the most,” there’s too many great ones in the generations that came before me and too many new ones popping up as I go. And some of them are unconscious influences. I don’t go to James Taylor or Paul Simon consciously, but they are such a part of my youth and DNA that I know they are there. The Beatles are my go to teachers, as is Bob Dylan, Neil Young, Joni Mitchell. Their entire catalogues. When I listen to them with a magnifying glass, I’m constantly awe struck. They make my humility rise as a dominant emotional state. I’m good at what I do. But the gap between them and me is clear to me – but it is also where my great frontier lies. The best version of me is somewhere out there ahead — in that direction — and I need them as inspiration to explore it. To guide my improvements. So I dissect their music. And thank them. While their songs lie like frogs in the biology class of my mind.
What other art forms — literature, film, dance, painting, etc. — inform your music?
All of it! Everywhere I’m engaged in life can create a song — so I’m constantly on the lookout. I see what I do as a form of literature. There is a reason why Bob Dylan is walking around with a Nobel Prize in Literature. It’s storytelling, poetry, lyricism wrapped in imagery, dressed within melody and colored orchestration. It’s a visual medium in people’s brains as they watch the details unfold in a song while they are listening. So it’s like a movie or a painting. The music is a dance. It’s flowing. It’s a kind of geography.
Everything from a great meal to a great movie can inspire. Anytime I’m stuck, I try to get out and see a film or go to a museum or take a walk. Read a book. Watch how film makers tell their stories. It’s all a deep well to drink from, aren’t we incredibly lucky? I love my job.
What rituals do you have, either in the studio or before a show?
One of the best rituals I have in the studio is working with a grid sheet and stickers to watch the progress I’m making as the album evolves. I put it on the wall so everyone involved can see it. It’s a big piece of paper usually 18” by 24”. The songs are on the left side going down and all the tracks run across the top. After a musician plays their part, I give them a sticker to fill in their square for the song. It helps me project out, to see what’s left to do, and to see how much has been done. It helps to focus my thoughts on the parts left to finish and I can be creatively thinking about how I want the remaining tracks to lie against the ones that are completed. It also makes the musician feel good for some reason. They always love it. The stickers are usually cool, like Wizard of Oz characters. It brings out the first grader in people. They choose which sticker and then find their empty box and fill it with Toto.
If you had to write a mission statement for your career, what would it be?
Mainly— create beauty in every part of your work.
Now, since I’m in my fifties, this would be by making the most of your talent and my skill set. Focus on the writing because that is the part that will be left behind when you part from the earthly side of things. The recordings will tell the story of you in the years to come when your gone. So I’m editing the songs until they shimmer, working more in the studio to get things right and less as a road dog doing shows. I was always writing and recording on the fly. Coming into the studio with a voice torn up by the road. And songs written on airplanes. I’ve got more space now, because I’m established, and can live off of fewer shows. I can’t sing as high or sustain notes the same way, but I have more patience and wisdom now. I’m a better writer for those things. And the best is yet to come.
How often do you hide behind a character in a song or use “you” when it’s actually “me”?
I like character driven songs and usually have a couple on every album. The latest album, 55, has a song from the perspective of a tattooed lady in a circus. I did it as a writing exercise where I was assigning circus characters to my songwriting students. So I had to assume a lot of different things with this song: a woman’s perspective, a time/era perspective – because I felt like it was occurring in the late ’40s – and then someone who is essentially a circus act in a freak show. It was fun to write. Unlike, say a “bearded lady” or conjoined twins, the tattooed performer chose to look as she does. I don’t feel like she is a victim of circumstance in the same way, so the character invites the listener to gaze upon her physique. Circus life can be tough as well, doing show after show, so you sense her boredom. Despite the fact that she is lighting the wick on the big gun of the human cannonball. She’s a bit over it.
Artist:Abby Litman Hometown: Bethesda, Maryland Latest Album:Still on My Mind EP
Which artist has influenced you the most … and how?
The one artist who has influenced me the most is Joni Mitchell. I first discovered Joni when I was in high school, and she became one of the reasons I wanted to pursue music. Listening to her, I was floored. Her lyrics were so relatable yet incredibly smart and observational, grounded in nature and full of poeticism. I spent hours and hours listening to all of her songs, dissecting them, taking them apart and putting them back together. Her albums made up my syllabus in songwriting. I read every biography and article about her I could get my hands on. Now, whenever I feel stuck with my own writing, I often go back to her songs and am quickly reminded why I wanted to be a musician in the first place.
What other art forms — literature, film, dance, painting, etc — inform your music?
I love reading poetry. My favorite poet is Edna St. Vincent Millay. I discovered a collection of her books on the shelves of my great-grandparents’ house in Maine. I was immediately taken in by her writing: blunt, sparse, yet layered with meaning and metaphor. Similar to my relationship to Joni Mitchell’s music, reading St. Vincent Millay’s poetry felt like finding someone who saw the world as I do. I also find inspiration in Sylvia Plath’s poetry and Shel Silverstein.
What’s the toughest time you ever had writing a song?
Sometimes, I struggle with finishing a song. Often, a song comes out all in one piece, almost seamlessly, but other times it can take weeks, sometimes years for a song to feel “finished.” Learning to enjoy the revising process has been helpful, but I sometimes feel like the constant revision takes away from the song’s authenticity, its initial spark. When I was writing my song “Alright,” I went through dozens of verses, melodies, and guitar parts. And the more I messed with the song, the less connected I felt to it. I was getting further from what the song was initially trying to say. It wasn’t until my producer Tyler Chester and I put some of the disparate parts I had written together, that I felt like the song finally revealed itself. Collaborating with Tyler has been one of the best experiences of my songwriting career.
What has been the best advice you’ve received in your career so far?
It sounds obvious, and maybe a bit trite, but the best advice I’ve ever been given is to “write good songs.” When I find myself comparing my music to other artists’, worrying about whether I’ll ever be successful, or feeling jaded by the music industry, I go back to that advice. I go back to writing songs because that’s really the only thing I can do. As long as I focus on my craft and keep making art that I am proud of, things will fall into place. I know that as long as I continue writing songs and making music, I’ll be happy pursuing the thing I love.
Which elements of nature do you spend the most time with and how do those impact your work?
I currently live in Los Angeles and my go-to spot for nature is the beach. My favorite thing to do is grab a towel, sit on the sand and stare out into the ocean. There’s something about the vastness and wildness of the ocean that helps to clear my head. It’s actually a place where I’ve gotten dozens of lyrics and guitar parts. One of my favorite times to go to the beach, perhaps paradoxically, is when it’s cold and cloudy. I love the salty wind, the crashing waves. It makes me feel small and renewed, but most of all, it opens up my mind to accept inspiration that I otherwise wouldn’t find in a city.
Photo Credit: Tammie Valer
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