Dallas Ugly’s New Album Is Downright Beautiful

Dallas Ugly is not a country band. Except that they are?

More than a decade ago now, college classmates Eli Broxham, Owen Burton, and Libby Weitnauer began playing together as a new acoustic band, bluegrass and old-time chops combined with jazz and jammy virtuosity. Eventually, via COVID pandemic cloistering together, they crafted a collective identity as Dallas Ugly, a vibey and tight alt-country group built around original songs that made a splash with their 2022 debut, Watch Me Learn.

On that album you can hear bluegrass grit, the tenderness of folk and indie songwriting, influences of Southern rock and pop, and dashes of Texas twang – perhaps supplied by confirmation bias thanks to their moniker. On their latest album, See Me Now (released in April), the trio are abandoning any and all claims to Americana and country. But this collection – one of the best roots albums of the year – still listens like so many classic artists and albums at the intersection of indie, country, and the vast musical horizon.

When you ask the Nashville-based band how they’ve landed in this new, borderless, agnostic genre territory, they seem as surprised by their own chosen style markers and aesthetic vocabulary as their audiences. “It’s an accident,” says Weitnauer – with delight. “We don’t know why we sound this way. We’ve been able to loosen up more, build on the experience we’ve gotten just as musicians. … With this iteration, I feel like it shows a full development of our sound.”

In truth, however See Me Now and Dallas Ugly strike your ears, it’s quite a straightforward task to trace their journey through genres. (Though it’s not the most straightforward to discuss!) The trio simply follows each song down their own individual creative rabbit holes, trusting the music and each other to find or carve out sounds that encapsulate the feelings, textures, and stories that they craft together. They don’t lead the songs, the songs lead them. As a result, Dallas Ugly alchemically transform barn burning old-time fiddle, endless country twang, deep honky-tonkin’ pocket, earnest, sentimental songwriting, and pop-informed sweet tooths into smooth, artful, endlessly interesting indie rock.

Dallas Ugly’s brand of roots music – if you can call it that – is downright beautiful. We spoke to the group via phone between tours in May about making the album, claiming genre (or not), and the sometimes passive, sometimes overwrought process of shepherding these songs into the world.

I wanted to start with getting the genre conversation out of the way, as it were. Y’all have been very forward with communicating that this isn’t really a country album; that you don’t really see yourselves as a country band. You call it indie, indie-pop-rock. I hear you as decidedly Americana and country, personally. Obviously you have those indie-pop touches – plus, we know you have string band bones as well – but can you talk a little bit about your relationship to genre and how you intentionally stepped into this much more free, borderless sonic space with this project?

Libby Weitnauer: It’s funny, because as I’ve had more conversations with people since the album’s come out I’m like, we definitely marketed it wrong. [Laughs] The other way we could’ve gone – everyone is like, “Do you ever listen to Sunbelt?” “Do you ever listen to Wilco?” “What about like The Breeders?”

Everyone says it’s ‘90s alt-country. It’s like, “Damnit… you’re right.” [Laughs]

But you asked what were the intentional steps that we made – and I would say there have been no intentional steps towards any genre. Which is why we are having trouble pinning it down, because I think we decided to market it the indie route. Honestly, the Americana world seemingly wants to have nothing to do with our music. [Laughs] So we were like, “Okay, then, I guess it’s not Americana, I guess it’s not country.” Every time we bring it to those people they turn it away.

I would say our relationship with genre is very passive. When we’re making decisions and writing songs, genre isn’t a consideration. It’s always been that way. When we started playing together as the very goofy band that we were before this band, that was a sort of attempt at new acoustic music. It was the same thing, we just make decisions [based on] things that we like, or think we’re supposed to do sometimes, or sound good. Then it comes through this Dallas Ugly Eli-Libby-Owen filter, no matter what.

We’ve honestly tried so hard to fit into a genre. Where we’re like, “Okay! We’ve done it this time. You guys, we made a song that sounds like something else that exists.” Which is a funny thing to aspire to. Just trying to create stuff that we like and then it’s, “Oh, nope, nevermind. There it is. Just as weird as ever.”

Do you feel like the songs are what’s guiding you in that passive way? That you’re just trying to give the songs the treatment they each want or are asking for or deserve? Do you feel like it’s taste? Or is it just how it ends up is how it ends up? What do you think is the process for how it ends up being borderless and amorphous and not quite any one thing?

Owen Burton: Yeah, I think those are all in there. I think it isn’t as if we’re striving when we’re writing, it’s not like we’re intentionally pointing to a specific genre. There’s just things that we don’t realize are so genre-coded that are kind of inescapable about our musical voices. When we are asking how to start a song it’s, “Let’s do a fiddle kick.” It’s not, “Let’s do a country thing.” It’s just, “I feel like a fiddle kick would make sense.” And then, on the other end of that is people being like, “This is a country record now!”

It’s fair enough. But I think with this record, too, [as] I’ve learned with our first album – which we were like, this is a country record – I feel like we learned, in how it was received, how actually regimented the Americana style is. And how we weren’t within certain signifiers that are pretty regimented. Indie rock is way more broad, in terms of what it tolerates stylistically.

So the next one, this one, certainly can fit in that big tent. Now, the way it’s been perceived that way too, [I’ve realized] indie rock’s pretty regimented in ways that I didn’t understand, too. Mostly about singing. I think just none of us sing like indie boys. [Laughs]

LW: Or country voice. That’s the thing, I think what it comes down to is if different people were singing our songs, maybe it would be clearer. But I think, especially Owen and I, we have acquired taste, stinky cheese voices. [Laughs] It’s definitely not for everybody. Eli, obviously he doesn’t sing quite as much, but weirdly I would say Eli has the most familiar voice.

I happen to love stinky cheese.

LW: Exactly! Me too.

How does Justin Francis play into the genre paradigm here as your producer, as somebody who effortlessly walks between those sonic worlds? Can you talk a little bit about working with him and having him in the control room?

OB: He understood what we were going for. When we started, we intentionally controlled less variables going into the studio for this one. It’s not as if we had a strategy meeting about what kind of album this was gonna be before we started, making creative decisions on it. The songs were vaguely written before we went into the studio, but not arranged and not figured out like across the band ahead of time.

I feel like even just that process– I guess that’s a bit of a question, is that more of an Americana process or more of an indie rock process? I see that as more of a rock process; I feel like rock bands often go into the studio with songs not even written and they just write it in the studio. With [Justin] on board, he had all kinds of ideas when we were writing in the studio, little bits of studio vocab that we don’t have ourselves. [He] pushed and pulled in different genre directions, for sure.

LW: Part of the reason that we worked with him is we did these two singles with him, “Big Signs” and “Born Crying” just to try working with another producer and see what happens. I don’t even know that we were really [thinking] we could make an album with him, because honestly, he’s the real deal! We were like, “He’s famous, so he probably won’t make an album with us, but let’s just see what these things will sound like.” It was so effortless and he let us do our thing on those two. I feel like those [songs] are just as unhinged as anything else that we’ve made and he was right there with us with the ideas.

I would say, generally, working with him was really effortless. That’s the word I would use. The whole time, even the pre-production meetings.

Let’s talk about some of the music. My favorite is “Bad Feeling.” I know the lyric may say, “It’s a bad feeling, I don’t like it at all…” but I do like it. I like “Bad Feeling” a lot. I heard you guys play this song live a bunch before the album, too, but can you talk about the origin of it, its writing, how it came together in the studio?

LW: That’s the one song I think on the whole album that we had been performing [before recording]. Maybe “You Can Leave,” but it changed a lot. “Bad Feeling” we had been performing pretty much as it is, for the most part. I’m glad that you like it, because that was the song I was like… not disappointed in, but I had so much trouble breaking out of the live arrangement that we had. We had played it so much that I felt like the track suffered a little bit from how attached we were to the live arrangement.

But the making and the writing of that song, I feel like I wrote it [because] I’d been listening to a lot of Judee Sill. I guess I was inspired by that and was trying to capture how some of her songs, the chords move with the lyrics a lot. I didn’t end up really sounding like her at all, but some of the original harmonies we had for that song, played [off of] some of the harmonies in her music.

I feel like that song is like the epitome of my writing style, which is pretty autobiographical. Every time I try to write like feathery stuff, it sounds really goofy. And so with lyrics, I just try to find the most straightforward way I can say something. Usually that ends up being the most poetic, from my voice.

How do you know when you have a hook or you have the bit of the song that’s gonna be what everybody shouts along with? To me, it doesn’t feel like any of you are writing songs because you think they’re gonna be a hit. But at the same time, when I hear a really hooky song or a really catchy song – like basically this whole album – whether it’s “Bad Feeling” or “Sugar Crash” or “Circumstances” or “See Me Now,” I can picture a “light bulb moment” when you find that hook or line that ends up being the sing along.

LW: When I’m writing, I don’t really consciously think about hooks like this. That being said, a lot of my songs start with either a phrase or a melody. I’ll be on a walk or doing something in the kitchen just singing little thing. Like “Circumstances” – “I put a letter in the mail…” – that just happened in my brain when I was doing something. Then usually I’ll grab onto that and write the song around whatever little melody piece comes to me. I guess what ends up being the hook, a lot of the time, is what comes to me. And then I find myself singing it and I let it take off and do what it’s gonna do.

Eli Broxham: I feel like something that comes up, a question we end up asking ourselves that I’ve heard Libby ask a bunch of times is, “Is this super cheesy?” [All laugh] Which, we definitely ride the line of cheesiness, but at some point, you have to just be like, “I don’t know. I like it. And that’s good enough.” If it’s borderline to me, maybe it’ll be over the line for somebody else, but clearly, within bounds for another listener.

At some point, trust your instincts and be like, “It might be cheesy, but that’s okay.” And yeah, I think melodically is where I have my surest footing [writing hooks]. I still feel as a songwriter, if I hit the mark, it’s maybe by chance or something.

I also want to talk about “See Me Now,” because it’s the title track, because it’s a great song, but also because I feel like it epitomizes the journey y’all have been on, from Watch Me Learn to this album. Not just musically and creatively, but also genre, and also politically and socially. This song is “of the moment” in a really interesting way, because you can listen to it down and it’s a love song and it’s a song about seeing and being seen, but it’s also about perception and, “Is my existence valid?”

All of that is really deeply resonant, but if you zoom out and view the song in the context of the band, it changes its meaning. If you zoom out yet again and you view it in the context of y’all really coming together during COVID to do this project as Dallas Ugly, being friends for more than a decade, it changes the meaning of the song again. It’s a tesseract of a track where you guys are writing in four dimensions – it’s not too intellectual or conceptual, but it has endless depth. How!?

OB: I actually wrote that very quickly, because Elise Leavy was having like a songwriting circle. I hadn’t written a song terribly recently, so I was just gonna write something real quick for this. That was the song I wrote and at the time – this is years ago – I was very into that Kacey Musgraves album, Golden Hour, and the lead track, [“Slow Burn”]. That acoustic intro thing, I was messing around with that, because the chords are really simple, but the voicings are so interesting.

Those two things – “hurry up and write a song” and the somewhat new vocab I had just learned – came together. That first draft of it was soft, crummy – plus those lyrics, it’s hard to say what they’re about, because I wrote them very quick. Sometimes this spiel I give on stage is:

It’s three people meeting each other after some kind of apocalypse. In the universe of the apocalypse, because nobody has anything anymore, it’s very hard to [determine] what status anyone was before the apocalypse. It’s three different kinds of people with different former social status, wishing that people they interacted with could tell what status they used to have.
People are very comfortable in their status, I feel like whether it’s high status or low status, people find comfort in both. Personal comfort in your own status and the comfort in feeling like you know how to treat people once you derive their status.

I feel like audiences never understand that spiel and it’s maybe too heady to be worth anything. [Laughs] Maybe that’s also why it feels like there’s so many different reads you could have of that song.

I think the most interesting thing about it – and maybe I’m projecting y’all – is the sentiment, “Can’t you see me now? I want you to see me.” Maybe that’s just the millennial condition. All of us having nostalgia for something that never existed, generationally, and being like, “I need you to see me. I need you to perceive me. But also I’d rather you perceive me from the golden era, from the before times. From when things were right.”

Also the “Can you hear me now?” reference of it all feels very millennial, very of the 2000s in a great way. Again, is this cheesy? No, of course not. Listen to it! But also, yes it is.

OB: Yeah, that’s where we live.

LW: That’s where we live! And I would say, before this, before the version that’s on the album, it had a very different flavor. I can’t even remember how it sounded exactly, but it was definitely more country – almost like country rock – and that was over the line. I’m glad we found [this style] and Justin helped us find that. Just pulling it back to the other side a little bit, because yeah, lyrically and melodically, it’s so solid and awesome. But we had to go to the drawing board a few times to get the setting right for it.

 

@dallasuglymusic Woops! We turned our indie pop song “Circumstances” into an acoustic one 🙊 #bigthief #adriennelenker #mjlenderman #mjlenderman #fiddle #acoustic #uprightbass #arcadianwild #indierock #fleetwoomac #acousticguitar #folkmusic #indierock ♬ original sound – Dallas Ugly

EB: That one is like the musical ideas are blocks that are put in place. I remember when we were doing this – after some of the drawing board stuff that Libby was talking about – but I was listening to that Mac Miller album, Circles – which I think is maybe the best Mac Miller album. I was listening to how the elements didn’t change, they just turned on and off to make the song, which I feel like is pretty common in pop and rap production. But often, especially in this band or in Americana and rock, things tend to sneak in and out and evolve.

But for that song in particular, the bass line just turns on, then turns off for a little part. It turns on and turns off. There’s different parts of different sections, but they are like binary, which I think is an interesting approach – and a first for us, in that sense. Somehow, that takes it out of the realm of cheesy country and accentuates the lyrics in a nice way. Even that final chorus, where it’s just a big pause and then the chorus turns on.

LW: That’s interesting that you say that, ’cause I feel like for my fiddling, that was the approach I took on this whole album. Honestly, until we got to the pre-production meetings I was like, “I don’t even think I’m gonna play fiddle on this album.”

I took more of [an approach like] I’m a sample of a thing, rather than being a fiddle in a band. Like even on “You Can Leave,” which is the more fiddle-y of the tracks, in the verses I’m not doing traditional fills. I’m doing this one rhythmic hook every time this comes around and that’s what I’m playing on this song.

It was the idea of turning things on and off rather than trying to be part of the whole song. And I let myself punctuate things and not feel like I need to play the whole time.


Photos courtesy of the artist.

BGS 5+5: Lily Talmers

Artist: Lily Talmers
Hometown: Birmingham, Michigan and Brooklyn, New York
Album: It Is Cyclical, Missing You
Personal nicknames: To most people I’m just Lily or LT. Though… I’ve long been just a hair away from changing my moniker from my real name to “Scary Magdalene.”

Which artist has influenced you the most – and how?

Judee Sill has been so huge for me – there is such musical intricacy to her work and to the metaphors she works with in writing. She just goes beyond the script of singer-songwriter in every way. She is really playing! With texture and tone and size and scope on every level – lyricism, meaning, arrangement, melody, harmony. She was just so devoted to every facet of the craft, and her songs thematically are themselves devotional.

As far as contemporaries go, though, Madison Cunningham has also totally changed my hopes and dreams. Her ways of being and writing have granted me permissions and reminders as simple as, “Women can be forces on the guitar!” and as wide as, “You can trust your audience to hold depth and complexity!” Her devotion to craft, like Judee’s, is the underlying thing that moves me.

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

Does teaching count as an art form? I have taught or studied literature formally for the last 10 years off and on. I could rattle off a bunch of titles or something, but to be honest a huge part of my music and craft has to do with performing. I’ve learned so much about the type of performer and space holder I want to be by trying and failing at teaching and witnessing some really brilliant colleagues. It’s influenced everything – my body language, my attention, my ability to embody and to really mean what I’m saying or singing.

I taught literature to college students for four years at an alternative/outdoor education program called the New England Literature Program. I’ve been hugely impacted by the many ways one can go about instructing someone else to undergo a creative act, be it writing or interpreting writing. I’m always floored by what can be done by a group of people just paying attention to a work of art or piece of writing. And that practice of noticing and paying attention is like 80% of how I’ve gotten any good at writing songs or playing music.

How often do you hide behind a character in a song or use “you” when it’s actually “me”?

In a word, “often”! I think we’re only really capable of seeing in others the things that we most intimately witness in ourselves. So, if a song is about betrayal, it’s writing both of the betrayer and the betrayed, as if they’re separate people. But, usually, I’m reporting with a real understanding of both sides because I am both, the betrayer and the betrayed, at once! And, if I don’t realize at the time of writing the song that I am both, usually my life reveals it to me somewhere down the line. I hear the accusations and questions and outcries of the songs differently with time. People in my life have a deep impact on me, but a lot of my best songs emerge from the many binaries and paradoxes of my internal world and less often from literal features of my life.

Does pineapple really belong on pizza?

Absolutely. I feel like people who can’t accept this are still crying themselves a river over Dylan going electric. Things that seem like they shouldn’t work often do work! Get with it!! Having a pineapple-goes-on-pizza attitude bodes well with making music too – you should always say yes to inspired ideas that sound weird or impossible. And if it works, it just does. There doesn’t need to be theoretical sense-making of it all.

What is a genre, album, artist, musician, or song that you adore that would surprise people?

HA! I love this question. May the world know that I love Celine Dion. Particularly her French records – D’eux or On Ne Change Pas. When I’m sad I like to watch this video of her singing a Christmas song on TV when she was a teenager and being surprised by her family. I was shown her music in high school French class and have always loved her drama and the way she really dignifies the figure of “singer.


Photo Credit: Alex Gallitano

MIXTAPE: Paper Wings’ Folk Rebels Playlist

While we could easily be mistaken for “a pair of demure young ladies playing in a mid-19th century parlor” as thoughtfully observed by Bluegrass Today some years ago, we are in fact drawn to folk music not for its wholesomeness, but for its realness and its capacity to have you at the edge, staring down the rocky cliffs of life into the depths of your humanity. The songs that endure and have been carried into the future often tend to have a lot of darkness balanced with beauty (reverence and irreverence), because that’s what resonates with folks. It’s what we’re made of. And anyone who dares to sing complex truths and carry stories around in their heads can be a folk rebel.

On our new album, Listen to the World Spin, we stopped worrying about how traditional we sound or “should” sound and just made the music we wanted to make. These songs tend to have themes of the contrast between connection, solitude, our personal struggles, and how we relate to the greater world around us. We ask a lot of questions on this album, the answers to which could be complicated, but ultimately are simple because there is no answer. Sometimes the best thing one can do in life is just listen.

This playlist of songs features friends, heroes, and legends; inspiratoria from our pasts and present. As we refuse to put ourselves into a musical box, so too do the artists on this playlist. Best enjoyed on a long walk or drive, preferably alone or with someone who gives you company without robbing you of your sense of solitude. Much love, – W & E, Paper Wings

“Same Old Man” – Karen Dalton

I love this combination of rough old-time banjo and electric guitar. What a voice. – EM

“Nine Hundred Miles” – Barbara Dane

I remember hearing this track for the first time on Democracy Now and it hit me as being so so cool… a feeling I only really get from punk music and raw, gritty folk. If you haven’t heard of Barbara Dane, you must look her up. She was a very involved activist during the civil rights movement and also wrote some very sharp political songs. – WF

“Sunlight” – Rushad Eggleston

I am a huge fan of the cello goblin’s love song era. – EM

“I don’t love nobody” – Elizabeth Cotten

Nobody plays guitar this good. Elizabeth Cotten is a legend, not much else to say. – WF

“I’ll Wash Your Love From My Heart” – Hazel Dickens & Alice Gerrard

Hazel & Alice are such heroes of ours! Independent, fierce, deeply committed humanists and musicians who have shone light on the path of living a life that is true to those values. – EM

“What Will We Do?” – Foghorn Stringband

Reeb Willms and Nadine Landry are true modern badasses. This track features them singing a capella on this foghorn record, and somehow it’s just as energetic and captivating as when the whole band is playing. They are incredible instrumentalists, but they don’t even need their instruments to make really good music. – WF

“No Reason” – Sunny War

I first heard Sunny play this song live in Nashville and the guitar part instantly stuck in my head. It’s so satisfying, my brain craves it. – EM

“Bad Repetation” – Woody Guthrie

From the spelling of the title, to the pronunciation of “window,” to the fact that the timing changes on every refrain and I still haven’t worked it out, Woody is the epitome of bad-boy-American-folk-singer-fun-rebel-friend. – WF

“Say Darlin’ Say” – Laura Veirs

It was bold to do this song this way with electric guitar. The hook at the end gets stuck in my head from time to time. There are so many poorly reimagined/re-harmonized trad songs, and to me, this one works because it is sparse, it is catchy, and it isn’t perfect. – WF

“Lopin’ Along Through the Cosmos” – Judee Sill

Our friend John Mailander turned me onto Judee Sill in 2019 and I listened to nothing but her for months, absolutely obsessed. The words to this song mean so much to me, “However we are is ok.” Nobody writes a melody like Judee. – EM

“Cumberland Gap” – Spencer & Rains

I remember hearing Howard and Tricia practicing this version of “Cumberland Gap” at Clifftop as they were camped next to me and being totally obsessed. I don’t know where they dug up this version, but it’s so fun and a good reminder that even when you think you know the coolest version of a song, there is probably a cooler one still out there. Also, this whole album is fun and you can even hear Emily play bowed bass on it, watch out. – WF

“Chewing Gum” – The Carter Family

I dare you to jump rope with your best friend to this song and try not to laugh when you sing the words, “I wouldn’t have a doctor, I’ll tell you the reason why/ He rides all over the country and makes the people die.” – WF

“Left Hand Lane” – Paper Wings

We wrote this song on a night drive home to Berkeley, talking about doing our taxes and being afraid of accidentally doing them wrong. We had borrowed a car from our friend Vynce. I somehow managed to live in the San Francisco Bay Area for 7 years and never had a Fastrak beeper (the toll taking company for bridges, express lanes, IYKYK) but we got to live that Fastrak life on this particular trip and it made it into the song. Thanks Vynce!! – EM

“Pretty Bird” – Laurie Lewis & Linda Ronstadt

I listened to Laurie’s albums growing up and long before I even played music. I am lucky now to call her a dear friend. I love her writing and her taste in covers. To some this might be a song about a little bird but it takes next to no imagination to hear it cautioning a young woman “he would only clip your wings.” – EM


Photo Credit: Kale Chesney

MIXTAPE: Call Me Spinster’s LadyVox Crock-Pot

As sisters, our deepest musical influences come from the shared “Crock-Pot” of our household. Our mom is a classical singer and choral director, and daughter of an eccentric music-savant with an encyclopedic knowledge of Gilbert and Sullivan. Our Amish-born dad was raised in the shape note choral tradition, but flew the coop and became a guitar-plucking singer-songwriter in the vein of Paul Simon and Dan Fogelberg. We were raised on music with an emphasis on voice — Joni Mitchell, Carole King, Ella Fitzgerald and loads of art songs and choral music from all over the world.

We began playing together as a cover band, dipping into our teen favorites, from TLC to the Andrews Sisters, Sparks to ’90’s boy bands. Now that we’re writing our own music we’re pulling from an even broader scope, from the Brazilian and West African percussion Rachel studied in college to Amelia’s obsession with ’80s French pop to Rosie’s deep love of classic rock radio hits.

This playlist is a sampling of vocal-centric artists that straddle the line between various types of pop and folk music that are either currently playing on our speakers, or artists whose DNA flows through the music we make. — Call Me Spinster

Pinc Louds – “Soul in My Body”

I stumbled across this band only recently and am obsessed. The power and vulnerability of Claudi’s voice is mesmerizing, and I love their use of raw percussive sounds like the kalimba, held together with synthy glue. – Amelia

DakhaBrakha – “Baby”

DakhaBrakha formed as an avant-garde theater phenomenon in Kiev, and pulls together folk traditions and soul/pop in a way I’ve never heard before. I love the combination of acoustic instruments like harmonica, glockenspiel and bowed cello/bass with some electric twangs throughout. – Amelia

Call Me Spinster – “Morning”

This song began as a sort of call and response, a cappella lullaby. We toyed around with the idea of keeping it that way, using only body percussion. As we started building it, though, Rachel started hearing a samba-style bateria. As layers quickly snowballed, we started calling it our “Lion King song,” including elements like strings and cymbals that aren’t elsewhere on our EP — but still built around that simple vocal call and response. – Amelia

Fiona Apple – “Hot Knife”

I first listened to this song when a friend told us to cover it — but we didn’t dare touch it, because it is perfect. Fiona Apple’s frenzied energy building in layers and countermelody, on top of a rumbling drum and dissonant keys makes me feel like a sleepless night after a killer date when you feel like your heart might shake down the walls of the apartment. – Rosie

Zap Mama – “W’happy Mama”

Zap Mama was a staple of our combined middle/high school CD collection and one of the most memorable groups we’ve seen live. It’s a group of badass women led by “Zap Mama” Marie Daulne who mix pop, jazz, and folk. They’re living proof that voices can be anything and all other instruments are extra party. That party brings in elements of funk and hip-hop throughout the song, but goes back to a cappella sounds at the end, reminding you what the true elements are. “Chante, chante, she say, she say.” – Rosie

Rubblebucket – “On the Ground”

I have listened to this album on repeat over the past few years. It makes me dance and cry. Kalmia Traver’s honest and unfettered vocals feel like a best friend reminding me to look around once in a while and stop taking things so f-ing seriously. – Amelia

Cocteau Twins – “Iceblink Luck”

Heaven or Las Vegas is one of my favorite complete albums of all time. Elizabeth Fraser’s uber-melodic, acrobatic vocals were the obvious draw for me, but as we incorporate more electronic elements into the songs we’re working on for our first full-length record, I am paying closer attention to their perfect cocktail of dreamy distortion. – Amelia

Les Rita Mitsouko – “Marcia Baïla”

Catherine Ringer is one of the most balls-to-the-wall performers ever, not only in her vocal style, but [also] the weird visual worlds that she and Fred Chichin created over the years. If you haven’t seen the music video for this song or for “Andy” do yourself a favor. We are often drawn to artists whose visual aesthetic seems inextricable from their music: Kate Bush, Tyler the Creator, FKA Twigs, etc. – Amelia

Lim Kim – “Awoo”

One of the driving forces for finding new music is making playlists for my yoga classes. “Awoo” has a way of wiggling into many — it has the perfect blend of joyful yet meditative vocals and groovy yet simple rhythm. I love when the voice can be a percussion instrument without sounding like an a cappella group. Janelle Monae and Kimbra also nail this vibe. Lim Kim just hits right every time. – Rachel

Alabama Shakes – “Gimme All Your Love”

This album took us by storm as it did so many — and we keep coming back to it again and again, particularly as we began our recording journey. Brittany Howard has the rare ability to harness the raw energy of her live performance in the studio, and the pacing and build of her songwriting is so unusual and satisfying, like the turn in the middle of this song and the build towards the end. – Amelia

Björk – “Hyperballad”

Björk gives us all permission to feel epic feels with few words and ear-dazzling, diverse orchestration. She has been hugely influential for us and so many artists across genres for multiple decades, probably even in bluegrass. I would love to hear a banjo choir re-make of her album Post — just sayin’. – Rachel

Juana Molina – “Al oeste”

Juana Molina has this super sexy and intimate way of singing that feels almost like the microphone is lodged inside of her. Her songwriting always has a trance quality, with a wink. It lulls you into a dream and then adds a tickle to make sure you’re really listening. – Rachel

Judee Sill – “The Lamb Ran Away with the Crown” (Remastered)

We had to include at least one of the great earnest singer-songwriters of the ’60s/’70s, and who better than the enigmatic, bank robber-theosophist-composer Judee Sill? One of our own songwriting tendencies is writing singable songs that have something sneaky lurking underneath — a disjointed rhythm, an odd structure, an unusual chord progression… perhaps this is the ghost of Judee. – Rachel

Lucy Michelle – “Heart Race”

We grew up falling asleep to our dad picking guitar in the living room and this pattern mixed with Lucy’s lilting and beautifully raw voice is everything that is home. – Rosie

The Roches – “Hammond Song”

I also play in a band called Holy Sheboygan and our first gig ever was in Hammond, Wisconsin’s (pop. 2000) Earth Day Celebration. The lady who hired us pleaded for us to cover “Hammond Song.” We haven’t yet, but we did fall in love with The Roches. The shout-singing style is very reminiscent of our Amish family’s shape-note vocal production, the cascading almost choral songwriting, shameless unisons (#sistergoals), and the drone all fit right in to our sisterhood of sounds. – Rachel


Photo credit: Our Ampersand Photography

MIXTAPE: Turn Turn Turn’s Sonic Journey

Me and my Turn Turn Turn bandmates Savannah Smith and Barb Brynstad have chosen a mix of music that’s either helped shape us as musicians and songwriters, resonates with us in these uncertain times, or is stuff we keep coming back to, like that lover we can’t seem to shake. It’s old and new like our band — we “turn” to the distant past of early American recorded music, “turn” again to that renaissance of the 1960s and 1970s, and finally “turn” again to the present looking forward. We hope you dig the sonic journey. — Adam Levy

Ry Cooder – “Boomer’s Story”

Probably one of the most influential players of my life. Evocative, funky, reverent of past blues players, but super innovative. All the double stops sound like he’s often imitating fiddlers. I do that on the guitar solo for our song “Fourteen.” This song is the ultimate Ry Cooder groove with Jim Keltner on drums. Reminds me of years listening to it touring in a van with my band, The Honeydogs. — Adam

Luluc – “Controversy”

There’s another level of calm within Luluc’s music I have always appreciated. Nico with modern themes… I don’t know how they do it, but they do it so well. — Savannah

The Staple Singers – “Freedom Highway”

Who can say they HAVEN’T been influenced by the Staple Singers? Unvarnished, insistent, and catchy as hell, it’s no surprise that “Freedom Highway” is as eminently listenable today as it was in 1965. And sadly, although it was written more than five decades ago, this song’s imperative message resonates just as strongly in 2020 as it did during the apogee of the Civil Rights movement. — Barb

Judee Sill – “The Lamb Ran Away With the Crown”

It’s hard to choose a favorite of hers. One of the greatest underappreciated American songwriters. She crosses genres, she sings some of the most profoundly spiritual music and she hooks the listener with amazing harmonic movement and melodies. If you don’t have goosebumps at the rousing end of this gem you might need to check your pulse. As good as anything on Pet Sounds — maybe better. — Adam

Turn Turn Turn – “Delaware Water Gap”

Imagine if Dylan wrote a song about a female serial killer and had Emmylou Harris and Stevie Nicks join him while Grady Martin and Clarence White duel on guitar. — Turn Turn Turn

Sarah Jarosz – “House of Mercy”

I fell in love with multi-instrumentalist Sarah Jarosz a few years ago, when I saw her perform at the Dakota, a renowned live-music venue in Minneapolis. Fresh-faced and not too far out of college (New England Conservatory of Music), she played as a part of a well-oiled trio of seasoned twentysomethings. This particular song appeals to me because it pierces the conventions of traditional bluegrass music — lyrically, vocally, and instrumentally. Importantly, it was my gateway to a deeper appreciation of bluegrass and old-time music. — Barb

Lefty Frizzell – “Treasures Untold”

Lefty is often overlooked in the country music pantheon. His voice is velvety voice and cheeky chords meld honky-tonk gently with Tin Pan Alley pop. This song is nearly perfect to me as a composition. — Adam

Jessica Pratt – “As the World Turns”

Jessica Pratt’s voice and melodies are incredibly ethereal. I’ve always admired her songwriting, especially in this song. To me, I feel the driving, unstoppable passing of time while stuck in a trance of reflection. — Savannah

Turn Turn Turn – “Cold Hard Truth”

Adam wrote this one about deep self-examination and suggested Barb and Savannah do the vocal heavy lifting. We’re pretty proud of this bridge and we bet Phil Spector or Jeff Lynne would give us a nod of approval. — Turn Turn Turn

Dixie Chicks – “The Long Way Around”

I love the Dixie Chicks for their fearless defiance of conformity. And I love this song’s transcendent harmonies, soaring hooks, and in-your-face lyrics (“I wouldn’t kiss all the asses that they told me to”) that serve as a clarion call to all the uppity movers and shakers who refuse to be conventional. — Barb

The Rolling Stones – “Loving Cup”

I came to country music through the Stones. They always had a couple country nods with close harmonies, twangy pedal steel-like riffs and stories about dissipation, loneliness, yearning, and travel. “Loving Cup” is loose and sexy, takes you by the hand, spanks you and just keeps building with that piano-horn driven, drum-tripping outro. — Adam

Laura Stevenson – “Time Bandits”

Laura Stevenson is someone I have always really looked up to. Both her voice and her songwriting are incredibly powerful. This song hit me really hard during quarantine; it’s heartbreakingly hopeful. — Savannah

Big Bill Broonzy – “Glory of Love”

First time hearing this I was struck by the driving rhythm. I thought it was a couple guitarists. I spent a couple days figuring out this relatively simple three-chord song. And I only recently figured out how to get that ragtime banging drive happening — some 30 years after first hearing it. — Adam


Photo credit: Ilia Stockert

LISTEN: Haroula Rose, ‘Margo’

Artist: Haroula Rose
Hometown: Los Angeles, CA
Song: "Margo"
Album: Here the Blue River
Release Date: March 25
Label: Thirty Tigers

In Their Words: "'Margo' came from the character in Once Upon a River, a book by Bonnie Jo Campbell. I fell in love with this story and this girl, and the song came to me in one go, pretty much. So I demoed into my phone and then we recorded it right away that same week. I had been listening and reading a lot about Townes Van Zandt, and of course I love Judee Sill, so I wanted it to feel like this vein of storytelling in a song that is so specific in nature but, in so being, it's universal somehow." — Haroula Rose


Photo credit: Javiera Estrada