Do you remember the human being you were in 2017? When the “first” North American total solar eclipse of the 2000s criss-crossed the United States, stunning millions of sky-gazers? Do you remember how dissimilar life felt then? When you look back, do your memories contain the same person you are now, or is there a vast difference between who you were then and who you are today?
In 2017, I’m With Her – an iconic assemblage of award winning roots musicians Sarah Jarosz, Aoife O’Donovan, and Sara Watkins – were already a band, but a tangible group identity had yet to fully coalesce – and external viewers, listeners or fans or industry professionals, couldn’t tell if this was a temporary “supergroup” or something greater and long-lasting. Yes, they first collaborated as a trio in 2014 at Telluride Bluegrass Festival and their chemistry, musically and otherwise, was immediately palpable. They wrote, toured, and released music together in 2015, 2016, and 2017, appearing on Prairie Home Companion, Live From Here, and festival and venue stages all across the country and around the world. “Crossing Muddy Waters,” a John Hiatt cover and their first release together under the “I’m With Her” moniker, was released in ’15; “Little Lies” followed in ’17. Then, their acoustic cover of Adele’s “Send My Love (To Your New Lover)” performed live with Paul Kowert on tour with Punch Brothers became a smash viral hit later that same year, barely a month after the moon then blocked out the sun.
By all measures, I’m With Her were a very different group 8 to 10 years ago. Neither Watkins nor O’Donovan were yet mothers. The trio had not yet been nominated for a GRAMMY (“Call My Name” would snag a gramophone for Best American Roots Song in 2020). They wouldn’t put out their debut album, See You Around, until 2018. Yet today, on the precipice of what is somehow only their sophomore album, Wild and Clear and Blue (out May 9 on Rounder Records), whether deliberately looking back or relying solely on one’s memories and recollections, it might seem like I’m With Her has always had this outsized presence and impact in bluegrass, folk, and Americana.
Auspiciously, the celestial and grounded, fantastic and natural Wild and Clear and Blue was tracked in New York State coincidentally during/under the more recent total solar eclipse of 2024. The track of that heavenly alignment almost directly crossed the studio where the trio were crafting the new album with producer Josh Kaufman (Bonny Light Horseman, the National). Leave it to the stars, the universe, and these three otherworldly musicians to convene to build yet another masterwork under such an unlikely omen as an eclipse. The results are truly magical. O’Donovan, Jarosz, and Watkins are already writers and pickers who draw heavily on the natural world, the earth, and their own bodies, hearts, and minds not only as intellectual tools, but also as biological beings to fashion their particular style of roots music. It’s difficult not to see how the ’24 eclipse – along with their journeys together over the last decade – greatly informed this new collection.
Solidarity, women uplifting women, motherhood and family, communion with the world around them, connection to nature, challenging the painful realities of our current day-to-day, and – perhaps above all – convivial, heartfelt fun run through Wild and Clear and Blue like shimmering, cosmic rays of light. Where their past releases together have been quite stark and stripped down, often utilizing only as many voices and instruments as the trio themselves could wield in realtime, Wild and Clear and Blue is expansive, confident, and bold. Are these the same humans who first began creating together only just over a decade ago?
Of course not. None of us are the same beings we were back then. Certainly not I’m With Her. They’re GRAMMY winners now, all three married and beginning families, O’Donovan and Watkins by now veteran moms. They’ve had multiple eras together as a band and multiple solo releases unto themselves, individually, too in the meantime. The miles have sped away underneath their feet as they code switch between being an ensemble and being individual artists – while racking up accolades, awards, and listeners as a collective and separately, too. They’re seen alongside other so-called supergroups like boygenius, Bonny Light Horseman, and more; not as novelties or accessories to the “real” artistry of their constituent work unto themselves, but as a sum greater than their parts. Rightfully so!
How lucky are we to be witnesses to that growth, to each of these women’s ceaseless commitment to challenging themselves – and their communities – to move forward, to crest that next mountain, to sculpt that as-yet-undiscovered song from shapeless musical clay? How lucky are we that these three women bathed in the ancient, timeless light of a solar eclipse and alchemized their experiences into this resplendent album?
The path of this incredible trio, unlike the planets in the sky, has been anything but linear – or concentric, or predictable. Still, there’s endless insight and so much joy to be gained from inhabiting this intersection, the confluence of so many occurrences: the trajectory of the group; the track of a total solar eclipse; the Wild and Clear and Blue writing and recording sessions; the terrifying and shocking burning of our planet; the rapid return of abject fascism in this country; the consideration of how to be artists – family members, mothers, community builders – amid all of these realities. It’s a bewildering intersection, but one we’ve all become undoubtedly familiar with since 2014… since 2016… since the sun disappeared in 2017 and 2024.
Wild and Clear and Blue is a soundtrack for togetherness. For being present. For capturing the infinitesimal moments that make life what it is. It’s no surprise I’m With Her were able to create such an awe-inspiring and heartening second album with these celestial (and terrestrial) ingredients. It’s impeccable roots music made for bathing in the ancient light, for standing at the fault line, for staring into the wild and clear and blue with courage, with love, and with songs.
And, we’ll be dipping back into the BGS archives for all things I’m With Her throughout the month of May! Each of the trio’s members have been featured as AOTM individually and/or in other groups and we have plenty of playlists, articles, interviews, and even Sitch Sessions to return to featuring their supreme talents. Buckle up for a transcendental Artist of the Month celebration.
Multi-talented musician and producer Josh Kaufman is known for his work with Josh Ritter, The National, and his band Bonny Light Horseman. I’ve known Josh for many years, after meeting him in Pittsburgh while he was on tour with Dawn Landes. I felt instant friendship with him (and, honestly, with the entire Dawn Landes band that day). We haven’t seen each other very much over the last 15 years, but since he left that impression on me I’ve always rooted for him in his career.
In our Basic Folk conversation, Josh shares anecdotes from his childhood, including memories of his journalist mother interviewing legendary musicians and the backstage snacks that left a lasting impression. He reflects on his early musical influences, the role of music in his family, and how his parents supported his passion for music from a young age. Then we dive into Josh’s experiences playing in bands in New York City during his high school years and how those formative experiences shaped his relationship with music and the city itself.
As a producer, Josh discusses his approach to working with artists by emphasizing the importance of capturing the raw, live energy of a performance. He talks about his instrumental album, What Do the People in Your Head Say to Each Other, and how embracing imperfection has become a central theme in his work. He also touches on his collaborations with notable musicians, including Bob Weir of the Grateful Dead, and the impact of those experiences on his career. Josh Kaufman is the most sought out producer in roots music these days. Look out for him producing some great records in 2025 and beyond.
(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!
Bonny Light Horseman is an indie/folk supergroup that formed in 2018 at the Eaux Claires Music & Arts festival in Wisconsin. Composed of Anaïs Mitchell (Hadestown), Josh Kaufman (Bob Weir, Josh Ritter, The National), and Eric D. Johnson (Fruit Bats), together the band has released two full-length albums. On June 7, their new double album Keep Me On Your Mind/See You Free expanded their studio album catalog by 100%.
Their first self-titled release, from 2020, features the band’s takes on traditional folk songs; the second, 2022’s Rolling Golden Holy, is a fully original body of work. Their music is tranquil, gorgeous, and breath-taking and their powerful blend of voices is just as striking. The trio bring a new light to the beauty of folk music, and truly makes each song their own.
To celebrate the new project, Keep Me On Your Mind/See You Free, we’ve handpicked a few favorite tracks from their past releases – together and separately – to highlight their musicianship, collaboration, and exactly why nearly everyone calls them a supergroup.
The title track off their first album and namesake of their band, it’s a heart-breaking ballad about a love lost to war that was found in the Roud Folk Index (#1185). The group’s arrangement features a low-tuned guitar and subtle textures of harmonica and saxophone which carry Anaïs’ and Eric’s transporting vocals.
“Deep in Love” – Bonny Light Horseman, Bonny Light Horseman
The second song off the band’s debut album is simply illuminating – it feels like a gust of wind on a warm day. Listening to Eric sing, you can hear vocal influences from Joni Mitchell in his jumps and leaps. It has a very freeing feel to it and breathes beautifully.
“The Roving” – Bonny Light Horseman, Bonny Light Horseman
The third track on Bonny Light Horseman also demands inclusion. It’s a song about the singer’s heartache over “Annie,” a woman who once said she would marry them, but over time fell out of love with the singer. The melody is subtle and sweeps the listener into a setting of tranquility. In the arrangement, the band switches between a single, double, and quadruple chorus which is a very sweet and simple way to convey the story to the listener.
“Jane Jane” was first recorded in 1939 by Lila May Stevens. This arrangement combines Stevens’ lyric with the African American spiritual and gospel classic, “Children, Go Where I Send Thee.” Bonny Light’s rendition is simply breathtaking; Johnson and Mitchell switch voices between the major and minor sections of the song, creating a raw and haunting sound.
The penultimate song off Bonny Light Horseman is a traditional Appalachian spiritual originally documented by Alan Lomax. This song holds the essence of a church choir belting for their audience and it’s one of the more simple songs on the album, in terms of arrangement. Having only three voices and a piano allows listeners to hear their trading voices on each verse and then the bright light of togetherness on the choruses.
“Gone by Fall” – Bonny Light Horseman, Rolling Golden Holy (2022)
“Gone by Fall” sits directly in the middle of Bonny Light Horseman’s second album, Rolling Golden Holy. Depicting a summer romance, it’s reminiscent of a 1960s folk song you might have heard on the radio during the folk revival. Yet, in listening to it, a veil is seemingly lifted and you can hear it’s an entirely fresh take on such a classic sound. Their voices, which blend so beautifully together, and the crystal clear guitar lines throughout add in the sweetness of a summertime love.
“Someone to Weep for Me” – Bonny Light Horseman, Rolling Golden Holy
Next up is “Someone to Weep for Me,” a song depicting a person going through life craving someone to care for them, but never finding that person. The driving force of the track is the mandolin’s beautiful rolling pattern, a genius touch that’s present throughout the song and adds a sense of stability and a unique texture. Another stroke of genius comes at about 1:40 in, when the electric guitar comes in wailing, bringing the song into a “jam” with Anaïs singing a little line over it. This is such an unexpected vibe change and at the same time it fits so incredibly well.
Off the band’s two-track EP release Green/Green comes “Greenland Fishery,” a reimagined traditional sailor song. Bonny Light’s version certainly allows you to float away. The clawhammer banjo throughout is lovely and it’s such a treat as a showcase instrument – it isn’t emphasized often throughout the band’s catalog. It’s also very sweet to hear the second part of the chorus as it echoes the chorus of “Bonny Light Horseman” in such a gorgeous, reminiscent way.
“Willie’s Lady (Child 6)” – Anaïs Mitchell & Jefferson Hamer, Child Ballads (2013)
Delving into some of the band members’ other projects, we come to Child Ballads, an album of duets from Mitchell and collaborator Jefferson Hamer. The project reimagines seven songs from a 19th century folk song collection “The Child Ballads” collected by Francis James Child. “Willie’s Lady (Child 6)” tells the story of King Willie, who marries a woman his mother despises and, in turn, his mother curses the wife. The guitars on the track have such a strong, driving force, excitedly pushing the song while one holds down the rhythm and the other crosspicks during the instrumental sections. Anaïs and Jefferson use their guitars in a way that perfectly compliments the vocal work in the song; it’s sung entirely in duet, the two voices deepening the texture of the music.
“Cazadera” – Fruit Bats, Gold Past Life (2019)
Fruit Bats is Eric D. Johnson’s indie-rock band that he’s fronted since 1997. Off their seventh album, Gold Past Life, “Cazadera” is one of the grooviest songs around. About a person searching for meaning in life and finding it in love, it’s the kind of track that would help paint your surroundings on a joyful walk. It has a great sense of hope and beauty to it and the chill verses coupled with sharp choruses bring energy and excitement.
“Loser’s L-A-M-E-N-T” – Rocketship Park, Off and Away (2008)
Going all the way back to 2008 for a selection from Josh Kaufman’s band, Rocketship Park, a pop-folky project with the intention to play Josh’s original material. The song “Loser’s L-A-M-E-N-T” is off the group’s first album, Off and Away, and immediately displays a very mellow vibe. Jazzy little piano licks come together with electric guitar and pedal steel, creating a western-folk sound. You can truly hear how each instrument is talking to the others and how they all fit together in telling the story.
“When I Was Younger” – Bonny Light Horseman, Keep Me On Your Mind/See You Free (2024)
From the group’s just-released double album comes “When I Was Younger,” which has a sound unlike most of their other music. Combining styles from artists like the Grateful Dead and Billy Joel, the intro riff sounds like it pulls some from the former, yet, once the verse starts, it sounds immediately like the latter – a kind of “Vienna” feeling.
It goes right back into the psychedelic riff before switching voices from Anaïs to Eric, again back to the Billy Joel vibe. The guitar and vocal solo following this verse are so rock and roll, gritty and not at all sparkly like the verses prior. “When I Was Younger” does an incredible job blending musical styles. It’s an absolutely astonishing piece of music, using such few words yet conveying such a strong and vivid story.
Podcaster, Number One hit songwriter, human and dog mother, gay icon Jenny Owen Youngs returns with her first full length album since 2012! In the last decade plus, Jenny has experienced a wild ride of changes like divorce, extreme grief, moving across the country, remarrying, etc. Her main project — while not writing, recording and touring — is hosting podcasts like the very successful Buffering The Vampire Slayer alongside her ex-wife, Kristin Russo (a Buffy The Vampire Slayer rewatch pod, which is now an X-Files rewatch show called The Ex-Files). She also has songwriting credits for Panic! At the Disco, Pitbull, Ingrid Michaelson and Brett Dennen, thanks to her deal with Dan Wilson (Semisonic and epic co-writer) and his publishing company.
JOY’s new album Avalanche covers a lot of hard topics (see earlier: divorce, grief, moving, remarrying) and was produced by angel human Josh Kaufman (Taylor Swift, The National, The Hold Steady, Josh Ritter, and so on). Jenny has always been an artist who is not afraid to show her whole self: good and the bad. Case in point: She described the inspiration for her very first breakthrough song, “Fuck Was I,” as “horrible, horrible, horrible decision making,” adding it was “just your classic love gone wrong hell.” Never one to back down from a fight, Jenny’s approaching these songs with honesty, bravery and her biting sense of humor. It’s cliché to say that talking to Jenny is a JOY, but it’s a cliché for a reason. Thanks Jenny!
This week, The Show On The Road places a call into Woodstock, NY, where we speak to a respected singer, songwriter, and sometimes drummer Amy Helm, beloved daughter of Levon Helm of The Band.
Growing up in the home of two working performers (her mother is singer Libby Titus, who wrote songs covered by Bonnie Raitt and Linda Ronstadt) wasn’t always the easiest for the introspective Helm, but it gave her a fertile proving ground to begin exploring creating her own soaring songs in the folk, blues, and soul traditions. She waited until she was forty-four to release her acclaimed first solo record, Didn’t It Rain, with her father lending his signature earthy drums on several tracks — and this year, she teamed up with multi-instrumentalist and producer Josh Kaufman (Taylor Swift, Bonny Light Horseman) to create What The Flood Leaves Behind, her most emotive and lushly-realized project yet.
With her dogs often joining the conversation from her upstate home, Helm dives into her early years trying her hand at singing in New York City cafes, having folks walk out of her folk fest shows because her band was too loud, founding the band Ollabelle, joining her stepdad Donald Fagen’s group Steely Dan onstage, backing up legends like Stax soul artist William Bell and finally reconnecting with her dad in her mid-thirties as he began his late life renaissance, hosting his epic Americana throwdowns called “The Midnight Rambles.” It was being a member of that crack “ramble band” that gave Amy the final push to pursue her own lead voice.
While Levon famously struggled with heroine addiction and the foibles of post-Bob Dylan and The Band fame fallout, it was when he got clean and took Amy under his wing that both of their stars began to rise again. You can hear Amy singing on his gorgeous return in 2017’s Dirt Farmer. Becoming more ambitious, Amy laid down her upbeat rock-n-soul-tinged second album with producer Joe Henry in LA with notable players like Doyle Bramhall II, Tyler Chester, and a vocal choir of Allison Russell and JT Nero (Birds of Chicago) and Adam Minkoff. This Too Shall Light was released in 2018 on Yep Roc Records and Amy began to be recognized as one of the most powerful singers touring the Americana circuit. Her newest record was recorded at her spiritual home, Levon Helm Studios, where each ramble still takes place on the weekends.
During the pandemic, Helm had a unique idea to keep her creative muscles strong, even when live music gatherings were not technically allowed in public. She began setting up “curbside concerts” for her friends and any curious fans who missed her songs, touring around Woodstock with her guitar, bringing a little joy to her shut-in listeners during New York’s darkest hours.
Stick around to the end of the episode to hear Helm introduce the spiritual opening track of What The Flood Leaves Behind, “Verse 23.”
The duo Mandolin Orange have surprised fans with a new video and a name change to Watchhouse. Band members Andrew Marlin and Emily Frantz shared on social media, explaining how their former band name didn’t necessarily encapsulate their personal songs.
They wrote, in part, “This past year has been the first time we’ve stayed still since we were 21, and the pause gave us the opportunity to sit with ourselves and set intentions. We have long been burdened by the dichotomy between our band name and the music we strive to create — if you’ve heard the songs, you know they are personal. Now that we can see a future where music is a shared experience again, we’re defining the space we share with you on a stage or in your headphones, and making it one that welcomes our creativity and anyone who wants to listen.”
FRIENDS! Our band is now called Watchhouse 💖. Same music, same us. We’ll tell you more about it: pic.twitter.com/0Klwh0WtBS
— Watchhouse (formerly Mandolin Orange) (@watchhouseband) April 21, 2021
The band’s most recent project has been 2019’s Tides of a Teardrop, although Marlin released two instrumental albums earlier this year. To coincide with the announcement revealing Watchhouse, the band released a new video for the song, “Better Way,” produced by Josh Kaufman and released via Tiptoe Tiger Music / Thirty Tigers. Take a look:
Kate Stables, principal of alternative roots outfit This Is the Kit, didn’t intend to write a pandemic album to follow her acclaimed 2017 debut, Moonshine Freeze. In fact, she wrote the entirety of Off Off On well before the term “COVID-19” entered our collective consciousness.
In the way that great art often can, though, the songs Stables wrote for Off Off On anticipated the needs of our current moment. Across 12 tracks, Stables sings of growth-inspiring personal reflection, the “two steps forward, one step back” nature of processing trauma, and continuing to move forward in the face of grief, all explored with deeply felt empathy and sharp insight.
Stables and her band recorded the bulk Off Off On prior to the COVID-19 lockdown alongside producer Josh Kaufman (Bonny Light Horseman, the Hold Steady) at Real World Studios in the U.K. Sonically, the album builds atop the lush, banjo-driven alternative folk of Moonshine Freeze, with complex, often subtle arrangements that offer thoughtful soundscapes for Stables’ striking lyrics.
BGS caught up with Stables via Skype to discuss finding sources of inspiration, writing about difficult personal moments, and living as a musician during the COVID-19 lockdown.
BGS: To start us off, everyone has had their own specific difficulties resulting from the pandemic, but musicians, especially, have been dealt a tough blow. How has that affected you and how have you adjusted to being home more, and not being able to tour this record?
Stables: At first, it was kind of novel and a bit of a relief, almost. For the first summer in living memory, I didn’t have loads of festivals to do. So it was a summer I spent with my family doing family stuff instead. So that was nice, at first. Now that the time for actual touring would have been starting soon but it isn’t starting soon, it feels a bit weird. It’s the longest amount of time I’ve ever gone without playing gigs and without touring. So it feels really weird and I miss doing gigs so much. And I really miss my band. They’re in the U.K. and I’m in France. I’ve never gone this long without seeing them.
With regard to the album, you wrote and completed the majority of it before the pandemic started. What were the origins of the album and how has its meaning evolved for you since you first began plotting it?
I don’t usually have a pre-album vision. It’s normally just me writing songs as and when they come and seeing what kind of shape it all takes along the way. One of the earliest songs that was written for this album was “Started Again.” “Started Again” is almost a bit of a bridge song from the last album to this album, because I feel like it could have gone on either, in terms of what I was thinking about. It feels like it’s connected to my past life, in a way, because I feel like everyone has a new type of life now. The world has passed through this strange portal and we’re all a bit different and have to adapt to things. It’s not an obviously key song on this album… but it’s also a bit linked to my thinking about perseverance and getting through the difficulties and coming out the other side again and again. It’s funny because that’s also what the world seems to be dealing with at the moment. Those are themes that accidentally came out while writing the album, without knowing that COVID-19 was coming.
I read the track-by-track notes that you wrote for the album, and one line that stuck out to me was, “Listening through to these recordings, I hear new COVID-19 references every day.” Could you elaborate on that? I heard some myself when I was listening, but am curious as to which resonated with you.
Partly there’s the “we’ve all got to get through this” that I was dealing with in the album, which now seems like I’m talking about COVID. There are lines like, “Try not to cough.” That is too ridiculous and coincidental. There’s a song about a hospital and the breathing apparatus in the hospital; that felt spooky, now that so many people are in hospitals than ever before. Things that were written with one story in mind and now this new situation has given them another story.
I’ve talked to a few other artists who have had similar experiences. It’s interesting, because obviously no one could have predicted where we are now, but it does make you wonder if you were intuiting that we were collectively going down this road.
Yeah, are we all tuned into something that we don’t know about? It does feel weird. I think also with writing, and you may get this in your work, you do end up with funny coincidences and predicting the future accidentally sometimes. It’s just the way it goes when you’re working with words and language and storytelling, whether it’s journalism or fiction or songwriting. These weird cosmic moments do happen.
One of my favorite tracks, both sonically and lyrically, is “This Is What You Did.” How did you write that one?
Writing it was fun because it was an example of me playing with rhythm, which is my favorite thing to do. I tried to find a banjo-picking pattern that was quite hard, something I almost couldn’t do, and worked until I got it. I tried to find a pattern where I wasn’t using the same fingers every time, something as random as possible. The beats were regular but the strings I was picking were somewhat randomly generated. Then I tried to find vocal rhythms that were difficult for me to sing at the same time. I guess it was like brain gymnastics. I like it when you can’t tell where a pattern starts and finishes. … That repetitive, cyclical nature of the music lent itself to this mind-loop approach with the lyrics.
Reading through your notes about “No Such Thing,” you reference both Jack Kornfield and Jane Austen as inspirations. How do you find inspiration? Do you always have your antenna up?
Language is the material I work in and I really enjoy exploring other people’s work with language. When I hear a phrase that makes me laugh or that sounds pleasing to say out loud, I’m always noting down little quotes of things that make a spark in my brain, even if it’s something out of Bob’s Burgers or something… So I guess I do always have a bit of a radar up for rhymes, assonance alliteration; things like that make my ears prick up.
When you reach the point in your writing process when you’re ready to fully arrange a song, what does your collaboration with your band look like? They’re such fantastic players and it sounds like you’re all quite close.
Sometimes I have a bit of an idea of the vibe or the kind of pace that I was envisaging for a song, but it’s also nice to not say anything until they’ve tried something out. Quite often they’ll find something that’s better than what I had in mind. I’ve ended up with three of my favorite musicians playing in my band, which feels like a privilege and a real kind of fluke. So it’s nice to let them do their own thing as much as possible. I’d be interested to know, though, if they think that’s what I do. Maybe they think I’m really controlling. [Laughs] What I hope I do is let them have space to do their stuff.
Prior to lockdown, you got to spend a lot of time on the road with the National. How does playing as part of someone else’s project inform your work as a solo artist?
In a few ways, but it’s hard to put your finger on one. Traveling is nutritious for me in terms of writing and wellbeing and being inspired. The act of traveling, even just looking out the window while you’re going along the road, is inspiring. But also the fact that you’re going to different places and meeting new people and having these new experiences… Also just seeing how other people work. I found it fascinating to be part of this symbiotic ecosystem that’s going around on tour. Everyone plays an important part and looks out for each other and it’s really fascinating to see how other people tour.
It’s a bit tricky to look too far ahead right now, but, in addition to getting your album out, what are you looking forward to in the coming months?
Because the gigs aren’t there to be looked forward to, I think I’m looking forward to seeing what I can get done instead. There are a lot of musical projects that I’d love to get stuck into, and I hope that I just will. This time, we’re all learning how to be ready for anything and not to assume that something is going to happen, so, ideally, I’ll just be making music instead of touring. I really hope I’ll be able to make music with people, even if it’s long-distance.
Bonny Light Horseman, a new American supergroup interpreting old British folk tunes, is one of the few good things to come from Twitter. After spending nearly fifteen years shepherding her ambitious musical Hadestown all the way to Broadway, Anaïs Mitchell was catching up on some of music she’d missed out on, and she took to the social media platform to shout out the Fruit Bats, the long-running indie-pop band led by Eric D. Johnson. It just so happened that he had recently discovered Mitchell’s music and was a new fan.
“It’s an embarrassing way to meet someone,” Johnson says, “but that’s how it happened. She tagged me and said she loved my band. There are so many bad vibes on [Twitter], but I do like the fact that you can write a very short fan letter and you know they’ll get it.”
Mitchell was already working with producer/multi-instrumentalist Josh Kaufman (Craig Finn, Josh Ritter) on a new project for the Eaux Claires Festival, and Johnson admits he steamrolled his way into the gig. At the 37d03d Festival in Berlin, the trio spent a few hours each day creating and recording new arrangements of old folk tunes like “Blackwaterside” and “Lowlands” with a small army of friends and collaborators joining in — including members of the National, Hiss Golden Messenger, the Staves, and Bon Iver. The result is a lush and lovely collection of songs that may be centuries old, but sound very much of their moment.
At least on paper it may seem like an unlikely folk alliance, considering Mitchell is the only artist among them popularly identified with that genre. Kaufman is more associated with artful indie rock, while Johnson is well known for crafting supremely catchy pop hooks.
“I have a fairly strong folk background,” says Johnson. “I used to teach banjo at the Old Town School of Folk Music in Chicago, but somewhere along the way I veered off on a poppier path. But Anaïs has a bona fide folk background beyond her career as a singer/songwriter. She knows all the old stuff and grew up with those records in her house. So she’s been a teacher to Josh and me in a lot of ways.”
This kind of collaboration fits with the 37d03d ethos. Founded by Bon Iver’s Justin Vernon and the National’s Aaron Dessner, the organization encourages and supports creative cooperation between artists in different genres and often on different continents. Already the duo have released an album together under the name Big Red Machine, and the recent posthumous Leonard Cohen album features 37d03d artists putting new music to his unrecorded lyrics. (It should be noted that the organization was originally known as PEOPLE, but changed its name to 37d03d in early 2019. It’s still pronounced PEOPLE, though. To see why, just turn your computer upside down.)
“They’re interested in artists expanding and exploring and collaborating,” says Mitchell. “After a while you get a kind of artistic identity, like a calcification of who you are as an artist and what you do. But there are people who are yearning to be free from the trappings of who people think they are. So PEOPLE offers an opportunity to be kind of childlike, to get back to that beginner’s mindset.”
For Mitchell it’s been a nice break, a way to settle gently back into her old life as a singer/songwriter after devoting so much time to Hadestown. Just before they embarked on a long tour supporting their debut, two-thirds of Bonny Light Horseman — Johnson and Mitchell — convened to talk about the durability of folk music, the joys of collaboration, and people who need 37d03d.
BGS: How did 37d03d inform this project?
Anaïs Mitchell: I feel like we were forged in the fires of PEOPLE. They’re interested in people expanding and exploring and collaborating and trying new things, so it was really perfect that we got to be a part of it before we really had any idea who we were or what we were doing.
Eric D. Johnson: I don’t know where this project would be without it. I don’t know if there’s anything modern that can be compared to it. I try to imagine how they pull it off from a financial or logistical standpoint, but they’re doing truly the Lord’s work, which is essentially creating a really easy platform for a bunch of people to get together and do something creative. I don’t know if it’s the most modern construct ever and they’re light years ahead of time, or if they’re completely out of their minds and operating on some sort of beatnik principle that’s completely untenable today. It’s probably both and/or neither. It’s an out-of-time thing in a very beautiful way.
AM: I’d been working with Josh on some of this material. I’ve been an admirer of his for a few years now — his playing and his producing on other people’s records. The thing was kind of a gleam in the eye, you know, when Justin [Vernon from Bon Iver] and Aaron [Dessner from the National] reached out to see if we wanted to do this project. Why don’t you play that at Eaux Claires festival? That was cool of them, because we didn’t even have a band name yet. We were just exploring. Just messing around.
EDJ: Then I steamrolled my way in, and it ended up becoming this band. That’s how it got started, and that parlayed its way into the big Berlin project, where they did this big, unique artist-in-residency festival type thing at the Funkhaus. It was like summer camp. That’s the only way to describe it.
Photo credit: D. James Goodwin
I think of PEOPLE as promoting that kind of collaboration, where you can play on somebody’s record or in somebody’s band without having it be a major statement.
AM: Totally. There was a moment in the middle of the recording where Josh said, “Man, we could really use a drum on this track.” Out in the hall, we heard a cymbal fall to the floor and make a big crash. Josh opened the door and it was Andrew Barr from the Barr Brothers. He was on his way to another session, but he had three minutes so he came in played the one drum that we needed on that tracks. It’s stuff like that. Or there’s a song that has a couple of the Staves on it and Lisa Hannigan. They just happened to be free. There was a lot of serendipity with that stuff.
When we were in Berlin, we didn’t know that we were making a record or that any of that stuff was going to have any value to anyone else outside of us. But then we got back to the States and we listened back and we were like, Wow, this gig is really good! It felt like half of an album. So the question became, how can we finish it? How can we make the other half of the record feel like it’s of a piece with that stuff, even though the setting is going to be different? So we made the rest of the record at Woodstock at this beautiful studio called Dreamland, which is just a big, old, weird church.
EDJ: We recorded in Woodstock for two days. It was more of a traditional recording setup. I remember we did “The Roving” there and “Deep in Love,” which are two of the singles and I think two of the strongest tracks. We did them at 1 in the morning. They’re both completely eleventh-hour songs.
At what point did the idea to cover old folk songs come into play?
AM: Traditional folk music is kind of a passion of both of ours, especially like British Isles stuff. We started to mess around with some things, and the very first song that Josh and I ever worked on together was “Lowlands.” Which is interesting because I hadn’t heard any versions of that song. I guess I had maybe seen some texts, and I learned that there are two strains. One is this British Isles strain, and the other is from the American South. They’re basically ghost stories, in which a dead lover appears to a woman or in some versions a man. They’re also stevedore songs, songs about working up on the shore, loading crates onto ships.
So the song that we put together contains elements of both of those things as well as some stuff that we made up. It felt like a cool puzzle to put together. A lot of them I would say have had less research. We said very early on that we didn’t want it to feel like a research project. We really wanted to be more heart-led and wide open.
EDJ: I would say we were adamant that we didn’t want to do a research project. We just want to enjoy it. But it is incredible when you do a little research on these songs — and this is not news — you don’t have to be an advanced musicologist to know just how interwoven American music and the music of the British Isles are. That music came to western Appalachians and eventually gave us country music and rock ‘n’ roll.
The through lines are so short still. It’s really not that old. When it split off, our grandparents were alive. Those songs are so ancient and so thoroughly modern at the same time in the themes they’re singing about. If you listen to the lyrics of “The Roving,” which are hundreds of years old, it sounds like the plot to a teen summer movie from the ‘80s. It’s just people loving and longing and grieving and having sex and everything else we’ve been doing and singing about for as long as anything.
It doesn’t sound like an album concerned with preservation or historical accuracy. You’re taking a lot of liberties with them without trying to explicitly update them to our current moment.
AM: A lot of the songs have new music but the text is traditional to one degree or another. The text of “The Roving” is based on songs like “Courting Is a Pleasure” and “Handsome Molly,” but the music isn’t connected to any of those songs. But it still feels like a heartfelt way that the voice wants to sing. This is a total aside, but it’s just such a pleasure to sing with Eric. He’s so unfettered in his singing. It makes me want to sing that way, too. I had to sing my heart out in order to get on the same level as him.
EDJ: This is folk music. It doesn’t need to be finely hewn. It can just be a lump of clay that you emotionally hack at until you get something out of it. There might be some deep, deep purists who think we’re very impure in how we approach these songs. But these songs are meant to change over the years. They’re from the oral tradition, from pre-recorded times, so we don’t even know what the original version of “Deep in Love” sounds like. We just know what we came up with. That song was sort of a sketch that I had written for the last Fruit Bats album, but I couldn’t get anywhere with it. I had a melody written, just a do-do-do verse that I sang in the studio, and Josh opened up a book of traditional Welsh folk lyrics. He said, “Sing these lyrics over that melody.” They slotted perfectly, and that’s how you hear it.
Is this a one-off project, or do you think Bonny Light Horseman will continue?
EDJ: I think we’re gonna pick it up again, but we have no clue what we’re gonna do next. We could just be this band that keeps reinterpreting British folk music forever, but maybe not. Making this first one was very natural and easy in a lot of ways, and we’ve enjoyed playing shows together, but I don’t think the way forward has been pointed out to us just yet.
Photo credit: Nolan Knight
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