You can’t have country music without the country. (Us city slickers belong in the genre as artists and fans, of course, but we’ll get to that later.) There is a fundamental relationship between the natural world and folk music, and the artists featured on our cottagecore playlist demonstrate that. Humans have been mapping their emotions onto nature for as long as we’ve been around: so much of our inner life defies explanation, as does our outer world. And while we may find endless ways to make new environments for ourselves, there are few things as moving as a beautiful sunset or gorgeous vista.
While we can’t create those ourselves, we try to make beautiful – and cozy – spaces for ourselves. In creating our homes the way we like, we try to control the world around us – even though we know we can’t. The songs here look to animals and plants as metaphors for the people and emotions we don’t understand, the ones that got away and are beyond our comprehension – the things we can’t control, but we accept as natural as a bird’s migration.
But even as these songs can be melancholy, they inhabit a place of comfort and tradition – cottagecore. The term reached peak popularity in 2020 to describe a movement that celebrates home, attention to detail, nostalgia, cutesiness. (Back in my day, we called it “twee.”) The aesthetic is largely driven by white women who found comfort in going “back to the land” – but a specific type of return, one that celebrates rural life while sugar-coating the backbreaking labor that is actually involved in homesteading.
Like anything that relies on nostalgia, it’s a double-edged sword. Cottagcore has been claimed by some on the alt-right as the desirable expression for women: tending to the hearth, spending time on making beautiful pies, making everyone else around them feel as snug as a bug in a rug. On the other hand, cottagecore became popular in some queer subcultures precisely as a means of subverting that sort of wisdom. Still, cottagecore assumes that this idyllic lifestyle conforms to Eurocentric views of agrarianism, architecture, and holding oneself separate from nature – and some seek to use cottagecore to question that colonizer logic.
At Good Country, we don’t want to take the easy way out. This playlist is designed to embrace the desire for comfort and retreat, one that is all-too-understandable in a chaotic world. But we would never settle for anything simply reactionary, instead wanting to intentionally offer new ways our society must change for our survival. These are songs about awe, acceptance, change – and regeneration, an aspect of the natural world we would do well to embrace.
Editor’s Note: To celebrate the release of Kacey Musgraves’ Deeper Well, we invited TikTok star, actor, creator, and musician Andi Marie Tillman to guide us on an apropos album ‘Deeper’ dive. Watch her video commentary or enjoy the written version of her thoughts and reactions to the stunning new record below.
Let’s go on a ride, shall we? I’m about to listen to the Kacey Musgraves album, Deeper Well. I’m hoping that we go so far down this well that we’re gonna get to Wonderland. Let’s see…
“Cardinal”
‘70s all the way!
Okay, right there, Crosby, Stills, & Nash, 100%. All the influences there – the harmonies, the double melody. Even the way it’s mixed, where all the voices kind of sit in that same space.
I love that. That feels so much like “Wooden Ships” in that Crosby, Stills, & Nash era. Such a fresh spin on it, though.
What’s that professional baseball team, the Cardinals? Ain’t there a professional baseball team that’s the Cardinals? Maybe they ought to make this their theme song. Really, this is the way to get chicks into baseball again. I like to think of us all in the Kate Bush “Wuthering Heights” red dress out on the field.
“Deeper Well”
Now let’s go to the title track, “Deeper Well.”
Love that strumming. I like that sweet refrain. I think that it travels well into the next verse. It seems to set out what the album’s intention is.
It does feel like this title track here, she is trying to communicate, “Hey, I’ve matured. I ain’t all about just the drugs. I ain’t all about getting high and having a good time.”
“Too Good to be True”
Now, shut up if that ain’t a Joni Mitchell little guitar intro right there! That’s like “Little Green” right there, a hundred percent. That’s like a “Ladies of the Canyon” kind of intro. Even the mix!
Now, that to me is quintessential country. When you got a clever line in there, that wordplay. “Be good to me, I’ll be good to you. But please don’t be too good to be true.”
That, to me, is like old school ladies of country, when they’re talking about love, but they’re like, “I’m going to be clever about it. I’m going to pull a Jane Austen on you.”
That right there is a Kacey Musgraves moment. That right there screamed Kacey to me. I almost said “scrumpt.” [Laughs] “Scrampt.” My Appalachian really came out there! But that right there is a Kacey moment, when the drum drops in that second verse. That was huge for Golden Hour. I remember “Slow Burn,” that was huge for “Slow Burn.” You know, she had that open chord and then the drum came in on the second verse. I know a lot of people do that, but it really felt like a Kacey move there. And it feels good too.
Love that harmony there. A lot of those harmonies remind me of Shania’s Come On Over. I don’t know who the guy is that did the background vocals for that, but the “Still the one / still the one I run to / one that I belong to…” the harmony in that is so freaking good. Go back and listen to it, but the harmonies here are tight.
This album makes me want to go buy a lamp. And move into a new house. Like it’s making me want to uproot my whole life and tell my husband we’re moving. We’re moving to California.
“Moving Out”
So something a little bit more straightforward, here. I am expecting a good story, because the instrumentation is kind of simple.
Oh, that hurts me! Okay. So autumn’s moving in and we’re moving out. As you see that, it’s almost like you can feel the transition of the season and she’s got all these vignettes of a marriage, like the resolution of a marriage, the eventual fading away of this relationship. That’s really, really pretty.
I even like how that little guitar whines at the end, an echoing of the haunting.
Kacey! That was campy as shit! Okay, so she even had a little sound effect for “it might be haunted” and you can kind of hear the ghostly echoes in the background. I love a campy moment! Good for you!
Anyone who’s been in a breakup can feel this one. Anyone who’s ever lived with somebody and had to say goodbye knows that that is so painful when you’ve intertwined lives with them. And then you do start to play that back. With every room that you clear out, it’s like you go through each room and your ghosts dance in front of you. I feel like she has set up these beautiful vignettes of a marriage that you get to peek into, like little rooms of a house. Each verse feels like that.
“Giver / Taker”
Nick Drake, where are you son?! We got some Nick Drake here, hon. Oh, I love it. I love all these open chords, sis.
She took Nick Drake, made it country. Just her voice is country. It really is. You gotta remember, she can do a lot of stuff and the essence of her voice has the twang and the pain. And it just sounds country.
Yes, sis! Again, clever. We got clever there. That’s where country comes in. Beautiful.
I like that one. I like that one so much, I can feel myself driving down a country road, windows down with that one. That one’s definitely a summer track. That “Giver / Taker,” it kind of sneaks up on you. I got a lump in my throat, because I remember what it felt like when you first started falling in love with somebody and you were like, “I wanna sop you up like gravy. I wanna sop you up with my biscuit. I’m gonna put my biscuit on you and I’m gonna sop you right up.
I am going to put you into a blender and drink you through a straw.” [Laughs]
“Sway”
That almost feels like horses running with that padding, [that] beat. Ooh, that’s nice. I like the soundscape on that end. And I also like that she’s having a nice vulnerable moment in the middle of the album. Because at the beginning we start out with like, you know, “I’m a big girl now,” but she’s also saying, “There’s some shit I gotta work on.”
“Maybe one day I’ll learn how to sway–” It reminds me of that Tanya Tucker “Strong Enough to Bend” kind of thing.
Can you ever just go with the flow? So she’s admitting, “Hey, I’ve gotten better, but I’m not all there.” And neither am I honestly, neither am I.
“Dinner with Friends”
I hope to god it’s not a song about what podcast they talked about. Hopefully dinner with friends is not, “Hey, how are you trying to optimize your life? What floor plan are y’all using?”
Dinner with my friends is just talking about Tim Curry and the Muppets, so…
[Kacey sings:] “Dinner with friends in cities where none of us live…”
Ooh! I cannot relate at all to this. [Laughs] But that sounds fabulous. I aspire to be the level of rich one day where I’m having dinner with my friends in cities that none of us live in.
[Kacey sings:] “The face somebody makes when you give ‘em a gift…”
Except for the Christmas that my mom bought my husband condoms – expired condoms at that. You should have seen my husband’s face that year. And then he said, “Don’t worry, we’ll put them to good use, Claudia.”
That was a great transition right there into that little chorus. Oh my Lord. You can just feel in that change, her being swept away, once again. You could be independent all day long, but then the right hottie comes along. Did I just write a song? [Laughs]
Yeah, somebody comes along with that body-ody-ody and sweeps you into a whole damn key change, sis.
[Kacey sings:] “Early in June, when the fireflies first start to glow, it never gets old…”
It don’t ever get old. Them lightning bugs, honey, the lightning bugs in June, there ain’t nothing like them. I’m ashamed to say we used to, I hate saying this – We used to pinch the little ends off of them and decorate our faces with them and say that we were, you know, wood nymph princesses.
It was real romantic at the time, now it’s just slaughter.
I love the whinin’ guitar that keeps weaving its way through here. It’s such a great motif, that ethereal cry out there. I love that.
“Heart of the Woods”
Ooh! I think we made it to Wonderland. We’re talking about the communication of trees, the secret life of trees under the ground. There’s a world that cannot be seen. And I think this might be a commentary on us finding out that trees communicate through their roots. They’re talking.
Now I’m anxious, all of a sudden, thinking about the trees talking, conspiring against us behind our backs.
I love the double vocal on so many of these tracks, because it does still hearken back to that canyon era, that Laurel Canyon, the folk singers of the ‘70s. But her voice always seems to bring an element of country to it. Always, her sound is so fresh and modern. I think it’s an interesting take. I like that. It’s kind of hippy-dippy, kind of flowy.
“Heart of the Woods” feels like it’s going on my playlist when I want to start a commune. You know, when I transition into my commune era – which is basically just when I have a kid and I don’t want to take care of it no more. I’m like, “Hey, y’all want to move out to the woods and help me with this shit?”
“Jade Green”
I like that mandolin.
Girl, I feel myself on a black stallion riding through the night. I feel myself topless, on a black stallion. That’s what I feel. And I feel like that moonlight’s just hitting me. It’s just like, my milky bosom through the night and like, maybe I have like a sheer cloth that’s just flowing behind me. [Laughs]
It’s got a real heartbeat to it. We need to put this behind a paywall!
I can really feel that being… that right there is a great drag performance. Somebody can have that.
“The Architect”
I like that this is that simple country songwriting format, so that the point is coming across. This song feels like kind of embracing the mystery. Did somebody do it? Was it here or is it part of some kind of design or not? I think a lot of us ask that question every day.
“Lonely Millionaire”
Sade? Sade? Where are you sis? Sade! I just got transported to a ‘90s Dillard’s. I would like those shoes in cream. Do you got a kitten heel?
That’s so sexy. I’m sending that to my husband right now. That one’s my favorite so far. Honestly. Because that shoots me back to “Lovers Rock,” that’s like a “Lovers Rock” tribute almost. Obviously she always puts her own spin on things, but she is an excellent curator of other pop moments.
“Heaven Is”
What is heaven?
[Kacey sings:] “We spent all day where the north wind blows / And you bought me a lavender rose / Put it in water when we got home / That’s what heaven is…”
This is your Ren Faire song. Honey, grab a turkey leg, because we’re going LARPing. We are LARPing, honey. You know, maybe I’m gonna go LARPing as Kacey at the Ren Faire this year. Grab you a turkey leg and a funnel cake, because we’re about to watch a joust and go make out behind the porta potties.
And, hey, that’s what heaven is to me. Who are you to judge me? Judge ye not. Lest ye be judged.
Listening to this song, I’m ready to give away all my rights and be burned at the stake.
I love that she goes for the romance. I feel like this album is one that you can play if you’re wanting to get hyped up or if you’re just wanting to toot around the house. It’s perfect. It’s perfect for all the occasions. It’s like my one cousin who was a carny that we know can swing both ways, if you know what I’m saying.
“Anime Eyes”
That got cute fast. I’m glad that I kind of get these references, because we just watched a Miyazaki film the other night. It does kind of bring in that sweet, magical element to it.
It’s cute, the song is cute, but also, it’s got a little bit of its own magic to it, too.
That got psychedelic plum quick. But I like it, I like [that] she leaned way into camp on that one.
I’m proud of you.
“Nothing to be Scared Of”
I feel like this puts a nice bow at the end, as the end track, because it’s sweet, we’ve got those tight harmonies returning. It’s the simple design. It’s the simple structure.
Basically, “I’ve got your back. I’ve got you on my mind. Don’t be afraid.” It’s like a peaceful entry to love and I think that that really fits with the whole vibe of the album, of, “I’m going to a mature place. I want to love the right way.”
Honey, I ain’t even been further west than Oklahoma, and this album takes me all the way to Laurel Canyon. I’m just driving through that canyon, got my top down, and I’m hoping not to get stabbed by the Manson family.
The album makes me want to start making dandelion tea. I’ve never thought about doing that in my whole life. But like, I could crush up some dandelions. This shit is bad for me, because I might start asking people for sourdough starters.
From my early days of being photo editor of my high school newspaper to my current tour hobby of photographing bizarre regional potato chip flavors in their native lands for @chipscapes, I have long held a fascination for photography. As life rushes by us at a mile a minute a camera has the ability to freeze the frame for a second, capture a moment in time, and provide photographic evidence that the moment actually existed. Though the waves may have crashed into your impossibly magnificent sand castle, you can keep it standing forever in a photo. And though time may have drowned out a love that once burned impossibly bright, a security camera may have accidentally captured the most blissful moments of that love and if you can track down the footage and find those moments, you could potentially kick back on the couch and watch those moments on infinite loop forever.
This is the premise of my song, “Security Camera,” from my new album Comeback Kid. Beyond that song, the subject of photos, memories, and trying to hold on to a moment for what it was, to love that moment forever in spite of its ephemeral nature, weaves its way through the album as a common thread. I put together a playlist of songs on the theme of cameras and memory and it turns out a lot of my favorite songwriters and biggest influences have also been fascinated by this subject. Recorded music is basically the audio version of a photo/video, so it makes sense. Hope you enjoy these songs as much as I do. – Bridget Kearney
“Kamera” – Wilco
Jeff Tweedy seems to be using the camera as a self-revealing truth teller in this song. He’s lost his grip on reality and only a camera can tell him “which lies that I been hiding.” I have loved Wilco for a long time and have a very specific visual memory of listening to them on headphones in college: I was on a semester abroad in Morocco and I was going for a run along the beach in Essaouira and came upon these big sand dunes. I spontaneously decided to run up to the top of the dunes and then bound down them into the water. This joyous discovery of dune jumping on a perfect sunny day will always be soundtracked to Wilco’s song “Theologians” in my mind.
“Kodachrome” – Paul Simon
Paul Simon was always playing around the house when I was growing up and this song has a particular significance to the origin story of my band, Lake Street Dive: We were on one of our first tours and we were driving my parent’s minivan around the Midwest. The only way to listen to music in the van was through the CD player. It was in the pre-streaming era where we all would have had a big library of digital music on our laptops (probably illegally downloaded from Napster or the like). So we decided to co-create a mystery mix CD by passing around someone’s laptop and letting each of us put in songs one-by-one, not telling each other what we’d put it in. Then we burned out the mystery mix CD and listened to it together.
As four students studying jazz at a conservatory we had mostly listened to Charles Mingus and The Bad Plus together thus far, but the mystery mix exposed all four of us pop music fiends. Song after song kept coming on and we’d go, “Oh my god, you like Lauryn Hill too?!” and “You also know every lyric to David Bowie’s ‘Life on Mars’?!” This culminated in the moment when the mystery mix played Paul Simon’s “Kodachrome” THREE TIMES IN A ROW! That was when we knew we should be a band forever. The groove on this song is also part of the inspiration for the song “If You’re Driving” from Comeback Kid.
“Hey Ya” – Outkast
Not actually a song about photos and you’re not actually supposed to shake Polaroid pictures, but Andre 3000 is one of the greatest musicians of our time and I’ve learned so much from him about music and language and spirit! Also this song is a total jam.
“Security Camera” – Bridget Kearney
I live in Brooklyn and there are security cameras everywhere here – at the bodegas, at the clubs, on the rooftops. Their purpose is to capture criminals in the act of committing a crime, but they are also capturing so many other things. Everyday things and extraordinary things. Moments of extreme beauty and moments of extreme pain. The idea behind this song is to track down security camera footage of the very best moments of your life so you can watch them on repeat.
“Pictures Of Me” – Elliott Smith
I went through a huge Elliott Smith phase in college and had an instrumental Elliott Smith cover band. His harmonies and melodies are so good that you don’t even need the lyrics, but adding them in, of course, makes it all the better. This one seems to say that pictures can lie to you, too.
“Picture In a Frame” – Tom Waits
This is one of those songs that seems like it has existed forever. “Ever since I put your picture in a frame” sounds to me like he is saying, “Ever since I decided to love you.”
“Body” – Julia Jacklin
My friend Michael Leviton (a great photographer and musician!) told me about this song and its passing but gutting reference to a photo. We were talking about how I had realized that a lot of my songs are about cameras and photography and how funny it is to look back at your own songs and see patterns and discover what you’ve been obsessed with the whole time. Michael said his thing is “curtains,” which appear over and over again in his songs.
“Bad Self Portraits” – Lake Street Dive
A song I wrote for Lake Street Dive years ago about what happens when the person you want to take a picture of steps out of the frame. What you’re left with and how to make the most of it.
“Videotape” – Radiohead
I always thought this song was about when you die and you are at the pearly gates of heaven, they are deciding whether you get in or not and watch back videotapes of your life to see if you were good or bad. I don’t know if that’s what Radiohead meant, but that’s my interpretation! The production is so cool, the way the drum loop is slightly off tempo and moves around the phrase slowly as it cycles around. Damn, Radiohead is so cool!!
There are a few songs on Comeback Kid that are directly Radiohead influenced. “Sleep In” is like Radiohead meets Ravel (or that’s what I was going for!) When I graduated from Iowa City West High School, I arranged a version of “Paranoid Android” that some friends and I played instrumentally at the graduation ceremony. In retrospect, that is a really weird song for us to have played at graduation! But I think it’s cool that they let us be brooding teenagers and go for it.
“When the Lights Go Out” – Sarah Jarosz
The song that gave Sarah’s brilliant new record its title, Polaroid Lovers. I feel so inspired by the music that my friends make, and Sarah’s songs from this album really knocked me off my feet when I heard the album and even more so when I heard them live!
“People Take Pictures of Each Other” – The Kinks
A festive little song about taking photos of things to prove that they existed.
“I Bet Ur” – Bridget Kearney
This is a song from the album I put out last year, Snakes of Paradise. The narrative is built around seeing a picture of something that you don’t want to see, letting your imagination fill in the details, and learning to accept it as truth.
“I Turn My Camera On” – Spoon
Groove goals. The camera here puts a bit of distance between you and the world.
“Photograph” – Ringo Starr
A song about photographs by my favorite Beatle? Yes, please!
“My Funny Valentine” – Chet Baker
I love Chet Baker’s singing, his pure, dry, affectless delivery, his deadpan panache. And I love the way this song manages to rhyme “laughable” and “un-photographable” and stick the landing.
“Camera Roll” – Kacey Musgraves
Photography has been around for a long time now but carrying thousands of photos of our lives organized in chronological order in our pockets at all times is relatively new. And both wonderful and terrible.
“Come Down” – Anderson .Paak
Just a passing reference to pictures in this song, but I had to get Anderson .Paak on the playlist because he’s the best!
“Obsessed” – Bridget Kearney
A song about falling quickly, unexpectedly, insanely in love with someone and trying to understand how it happened. You look back at the pictures as evidence trying to gather clues, see the train of events that led to this madness.
During the primetime Grammy Awards broadcast on February 4, country experimenter/challenger and singer-songwriter Kacey Musgraves announced her next full-length album with a 30-second ad that dripped with pastoral, “cottage core” imagery. Among more than a handful of recent, high profile album announcements – Lana Del Rey announced her upcoming country album just prior to the Grammys; Taylor Swift announced her next album during the ceremony; Beyoncé teased and confirmed her own country foray during the Super Bowl – Musgraves’ messaging felt very pointed, direct, and a bit disaffected. Given her track record and the lyrical content of the album’s title track, “Deeper Well,” it’s not surprising that Musgraves continues to follow her own arrow, wherever it points.
“I’m saying goodbye / To the people that I feel / Are real good at wasting my time…” she sings, and yes, it’s another free and unconcerned middle finger to Music Row, Nashville, and their puritanical country gatekeeping, but it’s so much more than that, too.
In the music video for “Deeper Well” (watch above), which seems pulled directly from a recent Star Wars film or a modernist, fantastic adaptation of Brontë or Austen, Musgraves inhabits a cozy and fearsome solitude. It’s reflected in the lyrics, as well, as the notorious stoner speaks of giving up on “wake and bakes” and giving up all of the flotsam and jetsam that’s gathered in her life since her enormously popular and successful album, Golden Hour, her prominent divorce, and the “controversy” that swirled around genre designations for her critically-acclaimed though nearly universally snubbed follow-up to Golden Hour, 2021’s star-crossed.
It seems that Musgraves is making music with even more intention, even more of herself, and even less concern with industry gatekeepers and mile markers. It also seems that, sonically and otherwise, Deeper Well will draw on the devil-may-care attitude of Same Trailer, Different Park and Pageant Material, while still guiding her audience and fans – by reaching them, directly – toward the same redemption and rebirth that she’s clearly found while making these songs. The production here listens like a combination of boygenius, Nickel Creek, and more of East Nashville and Madison than of Music Row and Broadway. But of course! This is Kacey Musgraves, after all.
There’s a slowing down apparent here, not only in the time that’s elapsed since star-crossed, not only in the imagery of the announcement and the first video, but also in Musgraves’ ambitions and how they fit into the overarching constellation of her work. Ambition has never been the focal point of her music, but it’s always been present; Musgraves is as deliberate and strategic as any woman (is required to be) in country music – like Swift, or Brittany Howard, or Ashley Monroe, or Maren Morris – but she’s leveraging her agency and her position as the CEO of her own outfit to continue to step away, bit by bit, block by block, mile by mile, from the parts of the music industry she’s never cared for.
As it turns out, her fans have never cared for the industry either, whether they know it or not. So, Deeper Well, is poised to – yet again – further broaden and expand the universe of Kacey Musgraves, even while her own, personal world seems to have deliberately shrunk… for the time being.
Few words stir up conflict in country music circles the way “authenticity” does. While debates over authenticity rage within every corner of the arts, the tension is especially potent in country, whose unofficial tagline is, after all, a commitment to honest simplicity: “Three chords and the truth.” While “truth” can be a broad umbrella to work under, within country music it tends to encompass a longstanding commitment to sharing the stories and experiences of everyday people, in particular those of the rural working class.
Accordingly, an adherence to and celebration of the very concept of authenticity – nebulous as it may be – is as baked into country music culture as an anti-establishment sentiment is inherent to punk music. Listen to country radio, though, and you might have a hard time finding it, particularly as the bro country of the mid-teens, though finally waning in popularity, still dominates the majority of terrestrial country airwaves.
It’s 2024, though, and it’s way past time to declare that country radio is irrelevant. Glance at Billboard’s Hot Country Songs chart, which includes sales and streaming data alongside airplay, and you’ll see the top spot isn’t occupied by one of the usual radio favorites like Luke Bryan, Morgan Wallen, or even Luke Combs, the latter of whom has notably found a way to straddle the line between commercial success and critical acclaim.
Rather, at the time of this writing the number one country song in America is “I Remember Everything,” a duet between the relatively new artist Zach Bryan and one of the genre’s more adventurous stars, Kacey Musgraves. As a song, “I Remember Everything” isn’t necessarily groundbreaking. Bryan’s and Musgraves’ voices play nicely off one another, with his achy grit contrasting sweetly with her smooth twang. The production is simple, underdone even, and lyrically the track travels well-trod territory: romantic heartbreak.
So, what, then, has kept “I Remember Everything” firmly situated in that top spot for 14 straight weeks (and counting)?
If you’ve paid even the least bit of attention to country music in the last couple of years, you’ve no doubt encountered Zach Bryan and his genuinely singular approach to the genre. With his raw sound, confessional lyrics, and decidedly DIY approach to business, Bryan radiates the kind of authenticity that fans crave. He joins a host of other recently established and emerging artists – including but not limited to Tyler Childers, Lainey Wilson, Colter Wall, and Billy Strings – who found success by foregoing the traditional route to country stardom, one that typically involves following an out-of-date formula honed over time by profit-driven record labels.
Zach Bryan debuted with DeAnn in 2019, finding an audience online thanks to the viral success of “Heading South” on DeAnn’s follow-up Elisabeth. He quickly built a fanbase on TikTok and YouTube before releasing his 2022 breakout LP, American Heartbreak, which had more opening week streams than any other country album that year. In the lead-up to American Heartbreak, Bryan, who served as an active-duty member of the U.S. Navy for eight years, was honorably discharged in 2021 so he could pursue music in earnest.
In addition to topping charts, American Heartbreak set itself apart from the rest of the year’s crop with its unadorned production, heavily narrative songwriting, and sheer ambition – the record clocks in at a lofty 34 tracks, with less filler than one would anticipate. The album’s biggest single, “Something in the Orange,” earned Bryan a Grammy nomination for Best Country Solo Performance and, for a time, landed him atop Billboard’s Top Songwriters chart.
That record, along with a handful of EPs and loosies released in between, teed Bryan up for his 2023 self-titled LP, a much more focused effort (a mere 16 tracks!) that found Bryan firmly situated as a real-deal country star, one who can tap the likes of Musgraves, the War and Treaty, Sierra Ferrell, and the Lumineers to come join the proceedings. While it no doubt shows the depth of his rolodex, that guest roster also points at the breadth of Bryan’s influence, as each artist comes from a different part of the broader country/Americana ecosystem.
‘First ever’ is fuckn insane, one of the best songwriters to ever do it https://t.co/GdkuWiWDvq
And while he considers himself a country artist, Bryan’s roots are more indebted to the folk-rock revival of the late-aughts and early teens, when acoustic acts like Mumford & Sons and the Lumineers grew so big as to cross over into Top 40, eventually helping spur an explosion in popularity for Americana and roots-adjacent music. It’s fitting, then, that the Lumineers feature on Zach Bryan, joining on the track “Spotless” so seamlessly it isn’t always easy to tell who is singing: Bryan or Lumineers frontman Jeremiah Fraites.
It’s on these collaborations, in particular, that you can hear Bryan’s joy at being able to do what he loves. His vocals are raw, but never phoned in; in fact, sometimes he seems to be straining so hard to communicate a particular emotion that you worry his voice will give out. It never does.
In other words, Bryan is a fan’s musician, one who geeks out about his favorite artists the way his own fans do about him. In a post about the duo the War and Treaty, who joined Bryan on the standout Zach Bryan cut “Hey Driver,” he writes, “I can tell you the first time I heard War and Treaty live and I looked to the person next to me and said, ‘Are you hearing this?’ I talked to them later that night and they were the kindest couple I’d ever met.” In the same post, he says of the Lumineers, “I can tell you about how when my Mom went on home I got the Lumineers tattoo on my tricep after hearing ‘Long Way From Home’ for the first time and how Wes [Schultz] and Jeremiah are some of the most welcoming humans I’ve ever met.”
This post points to a major piece of both Bryan’s appeal and the air of authenticity that surrounds him: His direct line of communication with his fans. He manages his social media accounts himself and is no stranger to getting vulnerable in his messaging, often posting progress updates on new songs he’s working on or taking a moment to express gratitude for his success. For fans, it’s almost like there are no barriers between them and Bryan, which reinforces the relatability at the core of his music.
The beating heart of Zach Bryan, for me, is “East Side of Sorrow,” a song that grapples with hope and religious faith by connecting the grief Bryan felt after losing his mother to his time being shipped overseas while serving in the Navy. Despite – or perhaps because of – these vivid references to specific experiences, like being “shipped… off in a motorcade” and losing his mother “in a waiting room after sleeping there for a week or two,” the song is deeply emotional and relatable, a wrenching but empowering anthem encouraging the hopeless to try to keep it moving. These days, you’d be hard-pressed to find someone who couldn’t use such a message, this writer included – Apple Music tells me it was my most-played song of 2023.
It would be – and for a lot of folks, already is – easy to accept Bryan’s every word, to believe that his hardscrabble songs about “rot-gut whiskey” and manual labor are honest reflections of the life he’s lived and the person he is. Then there’s the cynical interpretation, that Bryan’s anti-marketing is, actually, still marketing, that a young musician could only know so much of the realities of the struggle of the working class, that it’s the same twang to a different tune. Bryan has, after all, had a few bumps along his road to fame, including some less than flattering encounters with police that negate his humble personal.
But the truth, as it so often is, is likely somewhere in the middle. With such personal material, it’s easy to trace one of Bryan’s songs to its point of inspiration – “East Side of Sorrow,” for example, is undoubtedly ripped right out of his lived experience. And Bryan isn’t afraid to admit the gaps in his experience, like when on “Tradesman” he sings, “The only callous I’ve grown is in my mind.” Compare that to, say, the sheer tone deafness of a song like Blake Shelton’s “Minimum Wage” and Bryan’s instances of stretching the truth feel trivial.
Bryan is only the latest in a long line of country artists for whom authenticity is both a blessing and a curse. Genre giants like Johnny Cash and Waylon Jennings are often held up as unimpeachably authentic pillars of the genre, despite weathering their own brushes with the authenticity police earlier in their careers. And these debates, which tend to center white, straight, cisgender men, aren’t nearly as hostile in their scrutiny as they are for marginalized artists, against whom the idea of authenticity is typically wielded as a gatekeeping weapon.
Wherever you fall on Zach Bryan, it’s hard to deny that the gravel-voiced, baby-faced boy from Oklahoma has changed the very fabric of contemporary country music. What he does with that power moving forward could break the genre open for good, making space for artists with unusual paths, atypical backgrounds and a disregard for the flavor of the week. If Zach Bryan is who he says he is, he may very well do it.
Perspective. A universal concept, but also something which bears the potential to be entirely different from one person to the next. How one person views a setting, an experience – or even something as simple and innocent as a Polaroid picture – can set the tone for how they come to hold onto and look back on an entire memory.
The 11 songs on Polaroid Lovers, the seventh album from multi-Grammy-winning singer-songwriter Sarah Jarosz, not only presents the bulk of its musical subjects from a variety of vantage points, but the very making of this record is a story built on a shift in perspective for Jarosz herself.
“World on the Ground was my first traversing into really working on songwriting as more of a storyteller and not necessarily always writing from my own perspective or writing my own story. Or, maybe a better way to say it would be, from a confessional kind of point of view,” says Jarosz. “I think that really carried over into [Polaroid Lovers] and was very much assisted by the people that I was co-writing with,” she adds. “And so I think by co-writing all the songs and by not being in a solitary mindset, I was able to more easily slip into trying to write the songs from a more universal perspective.”
Jarosz is nowhere near a newcomer to the concept of collaboration, both in live performance and in songwriting for studio records. Just ask mandolinist and songwriter Chris Thile, former host of the iconic live performance/radio show Live From Here, or Sara Watkins and Aoife O’Donovan, Jarosz’s creative cohorts in the Grammy-winning roots supergroup I’m With Her. The New York-to-Nashville transplant carved out her place in the musical landscape with an indubitable gift for solo songwriting. This gift propelled Jarosz forward for a host of years, a slew of awards, and an ever-growing body of recorded work. However, staying a self-contained songwriter wasn’t without constraint – a state of affairs Jarosz admits was largely self-imposed through much of her early career, for the sake of her own artistic voice.
“I was very closed off to co-writing especially for my first couple records,” she says. “I had managers and label people always trying to set me up on co-writes and I did a couple, but I just don’t think I knew my voice well enough and I hadn’t had long enough writing on my own, performing on my own, and figuring out my sound. I think I was just worried that my voice would get lost in those [writer] rooms.”
Jarosz’s deliberate decision to not only include co-writing, but make it a dominant pillar of Polaroid Lovers seems entirely understandable as a way to push her own creative boundaries. She isn’t shy about sharing the burst of confidence that also arose within her while writing songs for the album. “I really don’t think I could have made this record even five years ago,” she says. “There were so many moments in the studio that I mean, if I’m being honest, kind of – I hate to use the word scared – but challenged me.”
If it feels strange to envision a creative powerhouse of Jarosz’s caliber struggling to embrace new musical ideas, there are plenty of specific sonic snapshots in the songs of Polaroid Lovers that Jarosz can look at through the lens of her past self and know just how differently things could have gone.
“For instance, the beginning of ‘Jealous Moon’ – when the guitar and the drums come in like right at the top – I was like, ‘Whoa, this is on a new playing field for me and a stretch from what I’ve done before,’ but I loved it,” she says. “At the end of the day, my barometer [is about] if the music is moving me, if I believe in it, and if I can proudly sing every lyric with a stamp of approval. And so I think something like that [style of introduction] – I might have just shut it down. Like, it would have scared me a little too much maybe five or 10 years ago and I would have said, ‘No, that’s not me. So we’re not going to do that.’”
Though “Jealous Moon” starts the music of Polaroid Lovers with an adventurous hook, Jarosz actually made the shift to disregard fear and connect with her inner co-writer in her mind from the very first day she met producer Daniel Tashian, while the two co-wrote “Take the High Road” – an upbeat song about staying true to oneself and not shying back from what feels right. “The thing that’s so refreshing and cool about Daniel [Tashian] is that he’s just so open and so endlessly curious about all things music and I think [he] would just be creating all the time if it were up to him,” Jarosz admits.
A seasoned songwriter and collaborator known for his work on Kacey Musgraves’ Golden Hour, Tashian brought Jarosz out of her comfort zone, often literally, in providing many changes of scenery for their writing sessions. “I met [Daniel] in March of 2022, which was when I started writing for this record, and… he just kind of welcomed me in to his family,” Jarosz says. “I wound up going on these kinds of writing retreats… and that was cool to just, get out of Nashville, shift our perspective, be in a different place, and just be really open to to the muse and to what would come.”
Other times Tashian’s sharing of simple but impactful thoughts and his own decisive opinions helped to nurtured a spirit of open possibility regarding what Jarosz would be able to write, but also ideally what she would find joy in playing for herself, as well.
“Daniel said something when we were in the studio that really resonated [with me]: ‘Why would you just want to make the same record over and over again?’ I love that, because I think you try to find your voice and hone your voice over the course of a career but the fun is in exploration – at least for me. I mean, maybe some people find comfort and repetition and that’s fine but I really love exploring and ultimately seeking what serves the song. I mean, that’s what it comes down to at the end of the day.”
Running parallel to this expanding circle of people, ideas, song forms, and stories that Jarosz was inspired to put into Polaroid Lovers are her personal tools of the trade – particularly her octave mandolin. An instrument Jarosz has grown to appreciate over the years alongside her artistry and proficiency with the mandolin, guitar, and banjo, the octave mandolin is another meaningful element of creative expanse, change, and consistency that’s become integral to who Jarosz is as a musician and what she wants to sound like.
“[Polaroid Lovers] feels more like me than ever before. Even though there might technically be some differences, I feel that it’s very strongly my voice and my sound. I think a huge part of that is my octave mandolin being a prominent texture,” she says. “I’ve gotten to this place where the octave mandolin feels like my sound in a way and I really sort of gravitated towards that instrument over the course of the years.”
A derivation of the mandolin, the octave mandolin is a fitting instrument to feature on an album that reflects new and familiar points of view. “Whenever I play octave [mandolin], I feel like, ‘This is me.’”
Beyond its presence being a defining musical attribute, for this album especially Jarosz says the octave mandolin was also a tool of creative focus amidst everything new and sometimes daunting. “Having [the octave mandolin] sort of be the through-line on this album helped me in those moments where I felt challenged by a sonic thing that felt new,” she says. “The octave mandolin would kind of make me feel like I was grounded.”
Though grounded, one need not mistake Jarosz’s sense of musical stability with any kind of fixation on genre. While there’s almost no escaping others’ archetyping of Jarosz’s work, Polaroid Lovers is neither a show of rebellion against her musical foundations, nor a calculated attempt to partition an exact ratio of familiar stylization with ideas new to her writing process.
“I personally don’t like to think of myself in terms of genre and I never really have,” she says. “It can be frustrating for me when people say, ‘Oh, you’re this, you’re that’ and I feel like, ‘Well, no…’ I think about [music] in terms of if I like it or not.” She adds, “I’ve just always felt that way and I’ve always listened to so many different types of music. It just feels too narrow, too limiting, to have to fit too squarely into a box.”
Despite the fact that the general public can launch a barrage of staunch opinions about the style of Jarosz’s work or what they may perceive is “right” about it, Jarosz says there’s a whole other dimension to Polaroid Lovers yet to be unveiled that won’t come into view until she’s out on the road, playing live, and connecting directly with everyone who’s listening. “The difference between performing a song in the studio versus performing it live in front of an audience is that I think songs sort of start to take their own journey.”
She adds, “I know my story, or I know my part of it. But sometimes, if you can be vague enough, you can almost keep it secret a little bit, where it’s like my story and my feeling about it is my own and then other people get to find their story in it as well. I think something that will be fun in singing these songs over the next however many years is discovering new perspectives with [audiences]. The perspective will really come singing [the songs] over the course of the next year on tour. I’m very excited about getting to do that.”
Ironically, all the talk of a growing compendium of artistic styles, of new collaborators, of new musical techniques, and of new ways to tell new stories truly hammers home the notion that Jarosz’s musical world is an ever transforming space – rather than one made up of experiential snapshots, as Polaroid Lovers is aptly described. Still, Jarosz came up a solo writer and one of the biggest curiosities around potential changes ushered in by this record would be how she views the dynamic of writing music alone versus writing her music with others. Not surprisingly, Jarosz doesn’t see an inner conflict on the horizon. It’s all “the more the merrier.”
“If anything, this [album] just expanded my community, which is a wonderful thing,” Jarosz says. “Especially now living here in Nashville, I think it’s made me feel more a part of this great community. Whereas when I was 18, I think I felt like there was something to lose in writing with people – that being, losing my voice or like kind of losing my way a little bit. Now I don’t feel like that and I think that there’s nothing to lose by sitting down and trying to be creative with with someone else. I think I will always do that from here on out, but it definitely will be simultaneous to me also writing by myself. That’s something that I don’t ever want to lose and that I want to keep doing for as long as I can.”
I wrote the songs for Modern Age over a period of a few years. It was a time of reflection. I was looking back on my past, because I had recently gone back to my hometown to sing at a childhood friend’s memorial service. I’m normally a present and future thinker, but this gave me the opportunity to sit with my past for a bit and spend time remembering. I walked around my old neighborhood and drove by my high school. I sat in my car at the park that my friends and I used to go to after school to talk and hang out. The songs that came were a mixture of simple, joyful childhood memories juxtaposed with the beauty and heaviness of adulthood. I listened to quite a bit of music over this period of time. Most of the songs that I was drawn to had beautiful melodies, lush production, and very descriptive lyrics. Here are a few of my favorites. – Jill Andrews
“Beauty Into Cliches” – Madison Cunningham
I first heard this song on the Cayamo cruise, which is a music cruise that sails through the Caribbean. I was a featured artist on the ship, as was Madison. I love the way Madison calls out the beauty standards of our society in this song. As a female artist, this feels especially poignant. There are extra pressures to look and act certain ways in the music industry. Madison’s lyrics are creating space for everyone. Not only is it a positive message, the melody is lovely and the rhythm is so vibey.
“Nightflyer” – Allison Russell
Allison and I run in some of the same circles in Nashville, so when I heard she was putting out an album I immediately checked it out. I was drawn to this song for the obvious reasons, the melody and overall vibe are gorgeous and, in addition, the descriptive nature of her lyrics really made me feel like I was in the same room with her. She uses all of her senses to let the listener in. It’s so descriptive and sings like a poem. “I’m the melody and the space between. Every note the swallow sings. I’m 14 vultures circling. I’m that crawling, dying thing…”
“Pressure Machine” – The Killers
The desperation of this song gets me every time. It describes hard living in a small town in such a visceral way. “A mattress on a hardwood floor. Who could ever ask for more? I’ll get up and cut the grass. Ain’t nothing wrong with working class.” I have listened to this song over and over. It always hits me in a new way. The melody is so delicate and gorgeous.
“First Time” – Becca Mancari
“I remember the first time my Dad didn’t hug me back. Under the porch light with my sister’s old cigarettes. With your hands hanging to your side and my face to your chest.” I love Becca’s description of this moment. It’s so sad and so beautiful. After I heard this song, I messaged Becca and asked her if she would sing on Modern Age. We had met a few years prior, but didn’t know each other well. She ended up singing on three of the songs: “80’s Baby,” “Kids,” and “Better Life.” She is such a talent.
“Teenage Drug” – Ethan Gruska
The production of this song is really cool. It feels very alive, the way that it moves and breathes. I love how the melody follows the instrumentation in the chorus. I first heard this song on a playlist when I was jogging. I kept coming back to it over and over.
“Chemicals” – Gregory Alan Isakov
I played a show that Greg was on a few years back with Hush Kids. When I saw him live, I fell in love with his music. I have listened to his album, Evening Machines, hundreds of times since then. “Chemicals” is my favorite song on that album. I love the lines, “You saw her bathing in the creek. Are you jealous of the water?”
“The Night We Met” – Lord Huron
I first heard Lord Huron play this song at Forecastle Festival in Louisville, Kentucky, a few years ago. I had just gotten done performing and I wandered to the nearest stage to see who was playing. Seeing it live got me hooked. This song feels like a dream. I think it’s a mixture of the heavy tremolo on the electric guitar and the vast reverb on his vocals that capture this dream-state so perfectly. The lyrical theme of wanting to go back in time sits so nicely in this vibe.
“Slow Burn” – Kacey Musgraves
I love the vast soundscape on this song. The album Golden Hour is such a good example of music blurring the genre lines in whatever way feels natural to the artist. These songs could have been produced in a traditional country format, but instead she and producers, (and buddies of mine!) Daniel Tashian and Ian Fitchuk, decided to take it a totally different, interesting way. This was incredibly inspiring and helped guide my way of thinking during the making of Modern Age.
Artist: SloCoast Hometown: Los Angeles, California Latest Release: “What Are We Waiting For?”
(Answers by Trevor Jarvis)
Which artist has influenced you the most … and how?
There are seven of us in this group. Collectively, we all have a wide variety of tastes and influences, but one artist we all love in common is Alison Krauss & Union Station. I guess you could call that group our North Star for SloCoast. Good players, good songwriting, killer harmonies — the stuff we all love. Our band crush, for sure!
What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?
We recently played a show at a farm up near Sacramento. In the middle of a song, Mark [Cassidy] broke and replaced a string right when he was about to take a solo. The band just vamped while he was doing it and then we all came back into the song form together when he was done. It’s always memorable when something like that happens cause it’s like one big trust fall.
What other art forms — literature, film, dance, painting, etc. — inform your music?
A lot of life experience usually informs our writing — could just be a simple conversation that sparks some kind of idea. Going out to a show can also be really inspiring. Just hearing a good song can open up a lot!
What’s the toughest time you ever had writing a song?
Almost every time we write a song, there will be a flow period where everything writes itself, but then we’ll get stuck on one final line. Sometimes it takes hours (if not days) to finish that one line. This seems to be our process with every song — and it’s maddening.
What rituals do you have, either in the studio or before a show?
Honestly, we have more of a post-show/recording ritual than we do beforehand. After the show, or a long day of writing or recording, we usually sit in a circle with a bottle of Jameson on the table and talk/jam into the midnight hours. Just hanging out together is good for the soul and creates a perfect environment for making new music, too!
Working your way through a hard time is pretty much impossible without the relief that comes from listening to music. In the last four years, I’ve focused a large amount of my listening on songs that talk about the hard stuff, just so I can feel better about my own. Coming out; divorce; difficult family dynamics; political divisiveness — any one of those things could send anybody reeling, but put ‘em all together, and wow, time to put on some tunes. — Mary Bragg
Aaron Lee Tasjan – “Up All Night”
Aaron’s sense of freedom and celebration of self combined with his outrageous talent for songwriting and production comes together wistfully in this wild piece of ear candy that I can never get enough of.
Joy Oladokun – “Breathe Again”
“Breathe Again” was the song that introduced me to Joy’s music, and it is just the most life-giving sentiment spoken through pain with honesty. It’s been meditative and healing for me.
Tegan and Sara – “Closer”
What a bop.
Gillian Welch & Dave Rawlings – “Hard Times”
There’s a Gillian & Dave song for every season of life. This one, of course, could apply to any kind of hard time you’re going through, and Gillian’s lilting delivery has me simultaneously sitting in my pain and crawling out of it one refrain at a time.
MUNA feat. Phoebe Bridgers – “Silk Chiffon”
Again with the bops- MUNA flings themselves into romantic pop bliss and brings us along for the party.
Stephanie Lambring – “Joy of Jesus”
People sure love to talk about your “lifestyle choices.” What I know is that living fully in my heart and my body and mind should not put me in a category that’s cast out, made less than, or made the subject of anyone’s ire. I won’t be told I’m going to hell just for loving an incredible human being who happens to be of the same sex.
Erin Rae – “Bad Mind”
It’s hard to believe that in 2022 there are still millions of people who think you’ve lost your mind for loving a person. Loving a person. And yet, those opinions are much stronger and more deeply felt than I ever realized they were; they can creep into your psyche and try to steal your joy, but I’m just trying to live a good life that leads with love, so I keep showing up as myself, trying my darnedest to claim and protect my own happiness.
Indigo Girls – “Closer to Fine”
More so heroes to me now than they already were, returning to this iconic song has taken on new meaning for me since I came out. Amy & Emily have been trailblazers for a long time, and funnily enough, they were the representation I didn’t know I needed as a teenager. I’m so thankful they exist in this world the way that they do — boldly living their lives but always leading with love and respect.
Grace Pettis feat. Indigo Girls – “Landon”
Producing this album for Grace lives in an almost surreal, fantastical pocket of my memory. When I first heard the demo of this song, I was floored by her willingness to talk about formerly being in that place of judgment; she tells the story of a changed friendship, a forgiveness of self, and a reconciliation that we can all hope for. I had this audible vision of the Indigo Girls’ voices taking it to a new place, and wow, did they ever. I’ll never forget how wonderful an experience it was for me to comp their vocals and drop their magic into this transformative song.
Bill Withers – “Lovely Day”
I’m such a fan of Bill Withers. With a penchant for capturing positivity and heartache in a series of brief melodic nuggets, this one pops up as one of the songs I find playing on repeat in my subconscious, willing a lovely day into existence.
Kacey Musgraves – “High Horse”
Craving a common ground where no one’s on any kind of high horse, this one is a gift to me, expressing frustration with the holier-than-thous. I can’t tell you how to live your life, so…
Brennen Leigh – “Billy and Beau”
The fact that Brennen is of our generation is some kind of country music miracle. Extremely well-versed in the great landscape of country music, yet bold as anyone, here she and Melissa Carper give us the sweetest anthem — “the heart wants to go where the heart wants to go, and you can’t undo it.”
Tom Petty – “Listen to Her Heart”
What intentionally uplifting rock-n-roll moment is complete without Tom Petty? I really believe in listening to your instincts — that feeling you know can trust implicitly, which of course cannot be ignored. “She’s gonna listen to her heart” — you betcha.
Born in a logging town in Washington state, Clark started playing guitar at age 9 before setting it aside and getting a scholarship for basketball. Music kept tugging her back in though. Like a modern Patsy Cline, she has a knack for nailing a heartbreaker. Reba recorded two of her songs in (“Cry,” “The Day She Got Divorced”) and Brandy soon found a valuable mentor in Marty Stuart, who helped her make her Opry debut in 2012.
While you may just be learning about Clark’s stellar solo work, which mixes old school and witty new school country with some of the tightest pop hooks in the game, Clark has been co-writing for some of country and rock’s leading ladies for years, like Miranda Lambert, Kacey Musgraves, LeAnn Rimes and Sheryl Crow to name a few. But it was with her lyrically masterful, lushly-orchestrated 2020 LP Your Life Is A Record that doors started opening in a whole new way. 2021 saw an extended deluxe version drop.
In this unearthed conversation (blame a faulty hard-drive), we go through her darkest breakup songs, hear about her tastiest kiss-offs and discuss her unique perspective of Nashville’s Music Row Boys’ Club.
Don’t miss the end of the taping when Brandy discusses teaming up with her songwriting hero Randy Newman on the cheeky tune “Bigger Boat” and she plays an exclusive acoustic performance.
This episode of The Show On The Road is brought to you by WYLD Gallery: an Austin, Texas-based art gallery that exclusively features works by Native American artists. Find unique gifts for your loved ones this holiday season and support Indigenous artists at the same time. Pieces at all price points are available at wyld.gallery.
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