Tag: justice

8 Songs for This Exact Moment

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Where do we go from here?

When you wake up in a world where hatred and fascism have been resoundingly endorsed by so many of your neighbors and fellow citizens, how do you proceed? That question becomes even more daunting at its second or third or umpteenth asking.

Yes, music will play a vital role over the next handful of years, as we continue the fight for justice, self-determination, and agency for all people, in the U.S. and around the world. But music, the arts, and creativity won’t be enough to save us. They won’t be an end-all, be-all solution to the political and cultural hurdles we will have to clear in the near future.

This is a moment that calls for so much more. Solidarity, first and foremost – the idea that, at the beginning or end of the day, all we have is each other – and community, organizing, and advocating for each other will be essential. Mutual aid will be more necessary than ever. Putting our own privilege on the line in order to protect and ensure safety for those more marginalized than ourselves is the task immediately at hand. Showing up – yes, for our country, but more importantly, for our friends and neighbors – is the very next step. Literally and figuratively.

Still, the soundtrack we will all write, that we will all curate, that we will all partake in while opposing the craven and hateful policies being proffered by our would-be dictator will be a powerful tool. Music – especially roots music, country and bluegrass, blues and old-time, folk with a lowercase and capital F, and more – are traditions steeped in populism, in worker’s rights, in justice, in standing up for the downtrodden and beleaguered. There are no better genres for this exact moment. There are no betters artists, musicians, and songs than those in and made by our very community.

BGS and Good Country include in our mission a commitment to intentionally crafting a roots music space, a bluegrass- and country-centered universe, where everyone is welcome, regardless of identity, background, nationality, ethnicity, disability, class, or belief system. We are determined to continue that work, to be a place where – hopefully – anyone and everyone can feel seen, heard, safe, and valid in their love for and appreciation of all things roots music.

As we summon courage for the work ahead and lean on our community, here are eight songs perfect for this exact moment in history, to hold up as we remind ourselves our goals are the same at the end of this week as they were at the beginning: liberty, agency, and self-determination for all. – The BGS & Good Country Team

“Mercy Now” – Mary Gauthier

A modern Americana classic, singer-songwriter Mary Gauthier shared “Mercy Now” on social media very early on Wednesday morning, after the news broke that Trump had won another term. It spread quickly on social media with many a repost and reshare. The message here, of mercy applied broadly, universally, and without qualification, is more than timely. It’s evergreen.

“Crisis” – Aoife O’Donovan

Connecting our current struggle to those of past generations is exactly how we continue to put one foot in front of the other, despite setbacks and losses and despair. Aoife O’Donovan’s latest record, All My Friends, is a perfect intergenerational connecting of the dots, centering women, girls, and femmes, and shines a light on the non-linear track that leads to victory. We know we will continue to return to this music over and over in the future, as a balm and a catalyst for progress.

And, as our friends at Basic Folk reminded us yesterday, Aoife’s and Dawn Landes’ episode of the podcast – which focuses on their similar albums centering women, feminism, and women’s issues – is an incredibly timely re-listen. Find that episode here.

“Sun to Sun” – Alice Gerrard

Looking to our roots music elders in this moment is exactly what we all need! Alice Gerrard’s most recent album, Sun to Sun, and certainly its title track, indicate a kind of perseverance and long view that we all could take on as we face the uncertain future.

With a loping, almost marching rhythm, there’s a grounded, realistic, and convicting approach here on “Sun to Sun.” While we all talk, and talk, and talk, and talk, the problems we face continue unabated and unchallenged. What will we do besides talk?

While we talk another fool goes and buys a gun…

“Listen” – Kyshona

Speaking of talking… why don’t we take a turn at listening? The challenge has been set by Kyshona, a powerful and restorative singer-songwriter and activist who channels her ancestors, connects generations, and builds community with every note and every word sung. Originally released in 2020, “Listen” is just as encouraging now as it was then, and just as indelible in its striving for a better, more compassionate world. Media, social media, and the internet all incentivize us to speak, to center ourselves, to prefer “me” and “I” over “us” and “we.” Let’s maybe listen more, instead. Especially right now.

“Beautiful” – Sam Gleaves

Appalachian singer-songwriter and multi-instrumentalist Sam Gleaves – who was raised in southwest Virginia but now lives in eastern Kentucky – released one of the most quietly and emphatically radical queer country and old-time albums of this year, Honest. “Beautiful” is the collection’s stunner, a track about how there’s endless beauty, mystique, and life lessons to be drawn from the ways we’re all different from each other. Through the lyrics, you see the world from the eyes of a young Gleaves, singing about sights and sounds unfamiliar and foreign to a boy from the mountains, loved and cherished by his family and shown that love without question.

Seeing beauty in our differences? What a way to live…

“The Numbers” – Mipso

THE ECONOMY! THE ECONOMY! THE ECONOMY!

What about those of us for whom this economy has never worked well or fully functioned? What about the millions who can’t make ends meet right now, under blue or red presidents? From their 2023 album, Book of Fools, Mipso turn over this very question, examining how and why “The Numbers” could be soaring – hiring numbers, the stock market, crypto values, Tesla market cap – while so many are still struggling day to day.

“Put No Walls Around Your Garden” – New Dangerfield

From Black string band supergroup New Dangerfield – which features Jake Blount, Kaia Kater, Tray Wellington, and Nelson Williams – “Put No Walls Around Your Garden” is an Americana-tinged old-time number, written by Kater, with a collectivist stance and a solidarity through line. There may be instincts in the near future to revert to an “every man for himself” sort of survival strategy, but the only way we’ll get through is together. Rather than hoarding, walling ourselves off, retreating, or recoiling, now is the time to throw open our garden gates and welcome each other in. Share our abundance, work through our scarcity and lack, and care for each other’s needs – big or small.

“Trees” – Laurie Lewis

Consider the trees. Consider the birds, the rivers, the oceans, the saguaro, the pikas, the whooping cranes. Did their realities change between Tuesday and Wednesday? Is the world any less or more likely to burn, to flood, to be blown away by hurricanes and tornadoes now than on Monday? Sadly, no. The march towards climate apartheid continues entirely unfettered, regardless of who holds the White House.

Laurie Lewis, a bluegrass forebear who has carried the mantle of climate justice for her entire life, embodies trees in the title track of her latest album. She and her band show how the fight for justice – climate justice, racial justice, gender equality, LGBTQ+ rights, immigrant rights – is a fight not measured by human lifespans and human time, but against earth’s clock. The trees will continue to watch, waiting, for us to either figure it all out or to fail at our mission.

We must not fail. The work continues and we’ll be working – and singing – alongside you all, the entire way.

Photo Credit: Alice Gerrard by Libby Rodenbough.

Adeem the Artist’s ‘Anniversary’ is a Complex, Deeply Moving Homecoming

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

In the press release for their 2024 album Anniversary, Adeem the Artist, the non-binary, self-described “cast iron pansexual” singer-songwriter, mentions that the album is queer country – as a genre, not simply as music made by queer people, but as a whole new thing. They also mention recording and creating with their child, their partner, and their tour manager, in a week off from touring in semi-rural Texas. The album is a deeply moving, hauntingly specific, and profoundly sophisticated look at the interweavings of family and a (literally) hostile landscape.

This is queer country – queer as a sexuality and gender and musical identity, but also as an indication of being a little askew, not really fitting plumb, as a political and personal identity. Here, a genre, Adeem notes, is a way of working against expectations or histories:

“Country music is important to me, because it’s so much tied into the dirt of where I grew up. It feels like a place I can comfortably speak from, in the authority of my testimony as a Southerner and a child of Confederates. That’s my responsibility, my calling. That’s why I’m making country records right now. It’s where I need to be, to be processing the things I’m processing.”

One of the ways of keeping safe in this landscape, while acknowledging and trying to make amends, is to move inwards, to lean on the “cast iron” of “cast iron pansexual.” This album moves from the outside – a world that is toxic and violent – toward one that is domestic. In the coruscating rock breakdown of “Plot of Land,” with its minute-long, Tom Petty quoting coda, Adeem sings:

And the politicians cast their lies like street craps,
And they sweep up every time
So baby I’m gonna find us a plot of land
With a little home to put a family in …

The plot of land is a long term plan, but there are moments in this record where you can see possibilities – of a loving home, of a rock and roll life, of a genderqueer Southern utopia, of the perfect dive bar meetup – falling out of an ambitious set of recordings. The too muchness of the album can be understood given it was made in a week, in a hostile place.

Adeem talks about how they made “Nightmare” in Texas, incorporating all the elements in their surroundings including “Isley’s laughter [their daughter], Kyle’s gentle presence [their tour manager], Hannah’s bouncing energy [their wife] as she pitche[d] hymns we could reference irreverently. That week away from the internet and the news cycle was a little insulation bubble that gave us so much room to breathe and feel safe. I don’t think this song could’ve been delivered with a different midwife.”

The midwife analogy is especially relevant to understanding some of these songs, particularly “Carry You Down,” where Adeem writes gorgeously about having and raising babies. The song is so gentle, so respectful of the autonomy of the child, but also filled with the details of domestic life that have become rare in country lately. In an album about adult pleasures and pains, it is a rest song, about carrying a child down the stairs when they ask to be carried, even if that interrupts “chorin’,” doing dishes or work in the garden.

If “Carry You Down” is a waltz, then “The Socialite Blues” is a romp about “staying up to the break of dawn/ making out of tune songs with you” – another kind of domestic, with “out of tune” its own kind of queerness. These songs have a sweetness, a refuge from harm, a way to escape not outside, but within.

The invocation of “out of tune songs” is a euphemism, but there are spaces on the album where Adeem is explicit about desire, as explicit as a country song has ever been, like in “Nancy,” which expresses exactly how difficult it is to fuck while on pharmaceuticals; or “One Night Stand,” about relationships that happen between last call and sunrise, but whose memory might, out of mercy and grace, stay on for “a lifetime of nights with him;” or “Part and Parcel,” where they sing, in gentle but urgent tones:

Take it all apart, it’s part & parcel
I came here with a strange and honest feeling
Chase all of these contradicting versions
Childhood perversions, & dreams that never steered
Let them drive a little while so that I can disappear

Those “contradicting versions” include being a child from the South, so the history here is not only personal, but social and political. There is a cluster of artists working out the history of the South right now – Justin Hiltner’s “1992,” Miko Marks’ Race Records, Willi Carlisle’s recitations of the failures of Appalachian and rural drug work, the entire career of Jake Xerxes Fussell, all of the ancestor work in Beyoncé’s Cowboy Carter. It might seem like Adeem’s work is personal, but all of this historical work flows from the personal to the corporate, an understanding of history that includes both last week and last century, trauma and joy twisting into a complex homecoming.

Homecoming for Adeem also includes the history of Knoxville, Tennessee; on the album’s last song “White Mule, Black Man,” they begin by asking if it’s too much to do one more, but after the end of the track, it’s clear that nothing could be more proper. Here, Adeem telling stories of the South, from Confederation onward, means taking racial politics seriously.

In almost exactly three minutes, they tell the story of a white mob rioting after a foiled lynching, the eventual coverup of that lynching, and the layers of myth-making and storytelling to prevent the truth from being revealed. Moving from talking to singing, somewhere between Peggy Lee’s “Is That All There Is” and Dylan’s “The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll,” the story in this final song laments, “But if the Tennessee River runs red with blood/ ‘Til the city runs white again/ Well, a white mule’s curse means more round here/ Than the last words muttered by murdered Black men.”

Adeem has been blunt like this before, tearing down the charnel houses of violent American racism and its myths, and this song is a deepening and extending of that practice. By ending the album on this note of violence, not as a lecture but as a moral accounting, that history work is ensuring that everyone is seen and known, their family is known, and the origins of their family’s prosperity is known.

Such knowledge is the necessary, sometimes haunting, sometimes delightful, attraction of Adeem as a person and “the Artist” – earning that sobriquet.

Photo Credit: Hannah Bingham

MIXTAPE: Chris Pierce on the Healing Powers of Music

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Hello Folks! My name is Chris Pierce. I’m a musician, songwriter and storyteller. My new album, Let All Who Will, was created to offer a message of resilience and empowerment – and to remind those who have been pressed to never give up the good fight for justice and equality. The songs are there for folks to hear, dissect and discuss. They also offer suggestions of ways to speak up and move together from a place of common ground. I believe that compassion is the only way forward. I fight with compassion. I sing with compassion. For this Mixtape, let’s explore a theme of the healing powers of music. Songs of liberation, pain, encouragement, empowerment and togetherness. – Chris Pierce

Reverend Gary Davis – “Let Us Get Together Right Down Here”

Starting with a song from Rev. Gary Davis – also known as Blind Gary Davis (born on April 30, 1896) – a blues and gospel singer who was also proficient on the banjo, guitar, and harmonica. Born in Laurens, South Carolina, and blind since infancy, Davis first performed professionally in the Piedmont blues scene of Durham, North Carolina, in the 1930s. After relocating to New York in the 1940s, Davis experienced a career rebirth as part of the American folk music revival that peaked through the 1960s. I’ve always been particularly moved by this song by Rev. Davis as it draws the listener in right away and encourages us all to “get together” as part of the great congregation of humanity.

Nina Simone – “Backlash Blues”

Growing up, my mother was an English teacher and I was fortunate enough to have access to books by some of the greatest writers of our time. I gravitated towards studying Langston Hughes from the time I was around 10 years old and the inspiration from reading his profound works is one of the reasons that I became a songwriter. “Backlash Blues” is one of his poems that was given a melody and was sung by the high priestess of soul, Nina Simone. It was written as a sign of hope for Black people during times of segregation.

Chris Pierce – “It’s Been Burning for a While”

This song is a response to the furor surrounding the tragic death of George Floyd in 2020. It was beyond puzzling to see how surprised many voices were, in the media and beyond, at the anger people felt. My co-writer and I collaborated on this song in an effort to point out that while all these stories have been making the headlines a lot recently, repression of the marginalized is nothing new.

Richie Havens – “Handsome Johnny”

Richie Havens’ music has elements of folk, soul and rhythm and blues. He had an intense and rhythmic guitar style and often played in open tunings. A lot of folks know him from Woodstock, but he continued on playing concerts right up until his passing in 2013.

I’ve been deeply inspired by Richie Havens in my own songwriting and growing up hearing songs like “Handsome Johnny” inspired me to expand my writing. To me, “Handsome Johnny” testifies about the sacrifices and inner struggles of the soldier and describes soldiers of all kinds going off to fight for what they believe in.

Lead Belly – “In the Pines” / “Black Girl” / “Where Did You Sleep Last Night?”

I’ve studied Lead Belly’s songs throughout my journey as a songwriter. His songs covered a wide range of genres and topics including gospel music; love, loss, liquor, prison life and racism; and folk songs about cowboys, prison, work, sailors, cattle herding and dancing. His version of “In The Pines” is one of the most widely known.

“In the Pines” is an American folk song originating from two songs, “In the Pines” and “The Longest Train,” both of whose authorship is unknown and date back to at least the 1870s. The songs originated in the Southern Appalachian area of the United States. Historians have said this song was probably born from African Americans living along or east of the Appalachian Mountains around the turn of the 20th century. Huddie Ledbetter, better known as Lead Belly, recorded over half-a-dozen versions between 1944 and 1948, most often under the title “Black Girl” or “Black Gal.” His first rendition, recorded for Musicraft Records in New York City in February 1944, is arguably his most familiar.

Odetta – “Got My Mind on Freedom”

Odetta Holmes, known as Odetta, is an inspiration to all. Born in Birmingham, Alabama on December 31, 1930, her voice has inspired hearts all over the world and she is often referred to as “The Voice of the Civil Rights Movement.” Odetta truly embodied a voice that inspired change. Martin Luther King Jr. called her the queen of American folk music. 

Terry Callier – “Spin, Spin, Spin”

Terry Callier was born in the North Side of Chicago. He was a childhood friend of Curtis Mayfield, Major Lance and Jerry Butler and he sang in doo-wop groups in his teens. In 1964 he recorded his debut album on Prestige Records. The album wasn’t released until 1968 as The New Folk Sound of Terry Callier. A dear musician friend of mine gifted me a copy of the album around 20 years ago and it’s been in steady rotation in my house ever since. My opinion, widely shared, is that Terry Callier didn’t get the popular recognition his varied talents deserved. Nonetheless, he released a string of enduring and influential albums.

Josh White – “Southern Exposure”

When I was in the 6th grade, I wrote a book report on the music of Josh White. I remember heading to the library in Claremont, California, and finding a treasure chest of literature and recordings by White. I dove in and was deeply inspired by the man, the songwriter, guitarist and civil rights activist that he was. White grew up in the South during the 1920s and 1930s. He released a prolific output of recordings in genres including Piedmont blues, country blues, gospel music and social protest songs. His music went on to influence several generations of artists, including yours truly. White’s album, Southern Exposure, is known as a political blues album and dealt with issues of Jim Crow. The album as a whole, to me, is a protest album of protest albums.    

Bob Dylan – “Only a Pawn in Their Game”

Bob Dylan sang a stirring solo performance of “Only a Pawn In Their Game,” at The March on Washington, a retelling of the murder of civil rights activist Medgar Evers. The lyrics attribute blame for the killing and other racial violence to the rich white politicians and authorities who manipulated poor whites into directing their anger and hatred at Black people. The song suggests that Evers’ killer does not deserve to be remembered by name, unlike the man he murdered (“They lowered him down as a king”), because he was “only a pawn in their game.”

Chris Pierce – “Mr. McMartin”

My song, “Mr. McMartin” from my new album, Let All Who Will, is about a street sweeper who has seen a lot of what human beings are capable of in the past 40 years on the job. He sweeps after celebrations, uprisings, political rallies, parades, holidays and catastrophes. As he sweeps on through the years, he wonders if we are capable of real change or just broken promises and broken prayer.

Photo Credit: Mathieu Bitton

WATCH: Bibelhauser Brothers, “Place In The Sun”

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Artist: Bibelhauser Brothers
Hometown: Louisville, Kentucky
Song: “Place In The Sun”
Album: Close Harmony
Release Date: June 15, 2023

In Their Words: “In the past few years, Louisville, Kentucky has been shaken to its core, amid a global pandemic, racial inequity, gun violence, and the fallout surrounding the death of Breonna Taylor. Our hometown, seemingly a microcosm of the country at large, has struggled with social justice and a level of political unrest not seen since the 1960s. During a time when it felt impossible to find bits of optimism on social media I stumbled upon a video from way back in 1969. It was an epic duet with Stevie Wonder and Tom Jones singing ‘Place In The Sun.’ In the video, the two superstars traded off singing powerful lead vocals, then switched back and fourth singing harmony parts. This reminded me of how Aaron and I have traded singing parts on many of our songs over the years. The lyrics gave me hope that we might soon find ourselves moving to a better place, and the image of Stevie & Tom singing together at the height of the civil rights movement was beyond inspiring. I knew right away, this was a song we should sing together, and I hope our interpretation of it moves and inspires a new generation.” – Adam Bibelhauser

Photo credit: Winston Garthwaite
Video credit: Brennan Clark

Gretchen Peters’ Protest Song (Op-ed)

Posted on by Editor

As a songwriter, I'm genetically programmed to dig for truth. To recognize it when it appears, to root it out, to know the difference between words that sound nice together and ones that hurt, that pierce, that open wounds in order to clean them out. Ones that bear witness.

Some of us have got it made / some of us have more than paid / but we're all marching in this slow parade of losses.

I wrote those lines three years ago. The parade of losses stepped it up a few notches last week: Leonard Cohen, Leon Russell, the country I thought I lived in.

Last Tuesday, I went to bed in a country where hate groups like the KKK were universally reviled, considered fringe lunatics. On Wednesday, I woke up in a strange land, where they were holding a victory march for their new president-elect and a white supremacist was poised to take on a top job in his cabinet. I went to bed in a world where a woman becoming president was more than a theoretical possibility; it looked like it was finally going to happen. I woke up to find the glass ceiling still intact, and my heart was the thing that had shattered.

If I have grandchildren, I will be hard-pressed to find a way to make them understand what a painful shock this was. The grief that I felt for a homeland which, apparently, only existed in my mind.

I heard from friends: "Your song is your weapon." "We need art and artists more now than ever." All true. But before I can begin, I have to find out what I need.

Right now what I need feels like a safe place to hide, in a bunker with my family and my friends and especially everyone I love who is so much more at risk than I am — starting with my transgender son. I wondered how many mothers across the country received a panicky, frantic text message on Wednesday morning like the one I found on my phone. When your own child fears for his safety because he is suddenly no longer welcome in his own country, what do you say? "You’re overreacting?" He’s not. "It's going to be okay?" Maybe it won’t. At best, it's going to get worse before it gets better.

Sometimes the songs know more than you do. They are prescient in a way that is uncanny and inexplicable, except that human history repeats itself, in heartbreakingly familiar ways, and, as Christopher Booker said, "We write the same seven stories over and over."

Sometimes the songs transform with the times. My friend Mary Gauthier emailed me Wednesday: “The meaning of my fucking songs has changed.” I found myself singing my song “Idlewild” on Saturday night and hearing the words come out of my mouth as if they were brand new. I wrote it about my childhood in New York in the 1960s.

We shoot our rockets / we shoot our presidents / we shoot the commies and the niggers and the Viet Cong / Everything changes / everything stays the same.

As the sickeningly regular parade of Black men and boys murdered in the street continued, the song took on more layers, and felt more important to sing. Now it feels like we’ve stepped into some kind of nonlinear time machine and it’s 1968 and 1939 and 1861, all at once. And I sing it and I can’t believe we’re here again.

As a writer and the daughter of a journalist, the loss I mourn the most is the loss of truth. Now it seems that words don’t matter except to the extent that they can deliver the poison into the minds of the unsuspecting. Facts and truth are negotiable, malleable, unnecessary. Believe and repeat fake news on Facebook. Call a sexually abused woman a liar and she is one. I was raised to make my case, if I believed in something. I was taught that science and logic and facts were things to be celebrated and respected. That we evolve and progress by the exchange of ideas, and presenting one's case with care and empathy and above all, facts, is paramount. After Tuesday, all evidence points to the fact that the Orwellian nightmare is real, it is here, and it is now.

Although it feels futile — and I feel impotent to change things — one day I’ll write a song, and then another, and then another. But not yet. First, I have to comfort my son, my family, my friends, and, hardest of all, myself. That will be my first protest song.

Singer/songwriter Gretchen Peters is a member of the Songwriters' Hall of Fame with three decades' worth of award-winning tunes in her catalog. 

Photo credit: yukon28209 via Foter.com / CC BY-SA.