BGS Class of 2025: Best in Bluegrass

If you’re looking for a definitive, qualitative, and deliberate ranking; a firm and scientific rubric; or an unbiased, sterile reckoning of the best albums made in bluegrass this year, this roundup may not be for you.

Truthfully, as someone who’s worked, been acquainted, and become friends with many of the artists on this list in various capacities – from bio writing to onstage performances to media coverage to pickin’ parties to recordings and beyond – objectivity isn’t something I, personally, could establish anyway. And such year-end or other merit-based lists and collections aren’t all that interesting, are they, if not just to argue with their curation and selections.

I would not even attempt such things, because to me – to many of us – that’s not what bluegrass is about anyway. Bluegrass is about a feeling. It’s about innovation. It’s about virtuosity. It’s about tradition, loving it or retooling it or coaxing it or turning it upside down. It’s about adrenaline and a high pulse – and passing a mason jar around. It’s about feeling downtrodden or alone, shedding tears into that very ‘shine, and wailing along with the high lonesome sound. It’s folk music as much as it’s abject commercial country in “poor people drag.” It’s endlessly interesting and complex, but pretty damn simple, too.

Anyone with even an ounce of sense knows and understands that bluegrass can’t ever be objective. So indeed, why try? Why not acknowledge that bluegrass is always a matter of taste, of preference, of whimsical or capricious or convicted opinion? Bluegrass is always debatable, because, after all, bluegrass is always in the eye of the beholder.

In the eyes – and especially ears – of this particular beholder, these albums released in 2025 were the best, the most memorable, the most engaging. These collections stick to ribs like ham hocks, or stick in your throat like the tastiest clod of emotional peanut butter. They each advance, subvert, perpetuate, or wrinkle our core ideas of what bluegrass is – and what it can be.

Are each and every one of these LPs the best in bluegrass from 2025? Perhaps not… But also definitely yes.

Big Richard, Girl Dinner

In January, we gobbled down a heaping helping of Big Richard energy with the nourishing and nutritious Girl Dinner. The project may have been the band’s album debut, but this Colorado all-women quartet had already been making remarkable waves in the bluegrass, jamgrass, and string band scenes – and each of the members had extensive and glitzy musical resumés before they even convened. With a new album, Pet, on the horizon for February 2026, a signing with Signature Sounds, and an upcoming co-bill tour with fellow femme outfit Della Mae, we can tell this Girl Dinner is set to become an ongoing traveling feast.

Shawn Camp, The Ghost of Sis Draper

I remember attending Station Inn shows in Nashville in the early 2010s and sitting with rapt attention – like Martha’s sister Mary at the feet of Jesus – as Shawn Camp performed his suite of Sis Draper songs with his star-studded bluegrass bands. Often you’d hear just “Magnolia Wind” or just “Sis Draper.” Sometimes he would perform a more complete handful of the tracks he had written, individually and with his hero and mentor Guy Clark, about the mythical roots music figure from his home state of Arkansas. Now, he’s collected the slate of material – what could easily become a musical or multi-disciplinary theatre work of some kind – into one commanding, lovely, and visceral album. These are timeless songs, written and rendered as only Camp could.

Jason Carter & Michael Cleveland, Carter & Cleveland

Every now and again a new collaborative duo album comes along and makes you think, “Oh! This must have been what it felt like when Skaggs & Rice was released.” Or Tone Poems. Or Ralph Stanley and Jimmy Martin’s First Time Together. A monumental occasion, captured for posterity’s sake in the studio. When fiddlers Jason Carter & Michael Cleveland released their duo debut, that was the feeling. History made in the present, a work that will be regarded as seminal ages into the future being enjoyed in real time. Carter and Cleveland have collaborated quite a bit over the decades they’ve known each other, but what a gift to have that musical friendship ensconced forever on this album. We hope there is more to come.

Wes Corbett, Drift

Look, if all modernist banjo players sounded like Béla Fleck and Noam Pikelny, that would certainly be great. But thankfully there are dozens of five-string pickers continuing to expand on the Fleck (and Pikelny and Munde and Keith and Trischka) school of Scruggs-style, each in their own veins. Corbett is one of the best. Though he blends effortlessly into Scott Vestal’s former role in Sam Bush’s band – or into any number of recordings and one-off pick-up bands that boast his playing in newgrass and bluegrass and beyond – Corbett is a true idiosyncratic banjo player and composer. Drift, his latest, often employs traditional techniques as tools for innovation and contemporary tunesmithing. He recalls the great melodic pickers while always sounding first and foremost like himself.

East Nash Grass, All God’s Children

A few years ago, if you had told me the ragamuffin band holding down Monday nights at Dee’s Country Cocktail Lounge in Madison, Tennessee, would in 2025 release an album you’d describe as “heartfelt, contemplative, and intentional,” I would have probably laughed. East Nash Grass were just as jaw-dropping good then as they are now, but with that down-home silliness and clumsy charm all the great bluegrass bands born of indentured residencies have had. All God’s Children finds the band all the way grown up (but not really), and they never forsake their banter-rich, never-know-what-you’re-gonna-get roots. That overlap – of silly and heartfelt and virtuosic and not too serious – is where most (if not all) of the best bluegrass is born, anyway.

Sierra Hull, A Tip Toe High Wire

Every single time Sierra Hull releases a new album, journalists and critics love to talk about how she’s now “found herself” and “found her sound.” This writer, however, disagrees. I first saw Hull perform when we were both in our mid-teens and then as now I knew, wholeheartedly, this is someone who knows who they are. Granted, Hull has done plenty of finding herself along the way, as we all do, but the songs and tunes of A Tip Toe High Wire were obviously not born of someone just locating her voice, musically or otherwise. They don’t feel experimental or out on a limb, they are each solidly in her wheelhouse. They do still push the envelope, though, and they all tell personal stories, draw on individual experiences, and chase those treasured Hull-ian melodies wherever they lead.

I’m With Her, Wild and Clear and Blue

Perhaps all future I’m With Her albums should be made while basking in the “Ancient Light” of a total solar eclipse, given the striking sonic successes of Wild and Clear and Blue. Is that cosmic magic why their second full-length release feels so distinct and metamorphosed from their debut? Is it all the years and personal growth in between recordings? It’s not like they reinvented the wheel, they’re the exact same band – but something feels different here. Whatever the special sauce may be, all of I’m With Her’s offerings over the course of the band’s lifespan have been stellar, but this latest full-length project stands apart. As long as Jarosz, O’Donovan, and Watkins are making music together, we will be unendingly grateful they offer us these recorded windows into their creativity.

Kissing Other ppl, Kissing Other ppl

Bluegrass and old-time birth new projects, bands, and collaborations all the time. Some are purposefully momentary, some are unintentional flashes in the pan, some are such long strings of last names ampersand-ed together you know there’s no future for them. We hope Kissing Other ppl are here to stay. Rachel Baiman and Viv & Riley joined forces on the album – and band – turning mainstream and pop songs into bluegrassy and old-timey string band arrangements that positively vibrate with passion and life. “Sad boi” covers these are not, though you may at times find them subdued or tender or mild. Long may this old-time Americana musical polycule reign.

Cameron Knowler, CRK

If you’ve been craving a contemporary storyteller and poet who utilizes the guitar as their medium – like Norman Blake or Doc Watson or Tony Rice or so many others – I am so pleased to step onto my soapbox to tell you about Cameron Knowler. Also a writer (at times for BGS), archivist, photographer, and visual artist, Knowler’s guitar-centered album, CRK, is almost anything but a “guitar album,” despite each and every composition centering on the instrument. The LP paints vivid and haunting musical portraits of a place Knowler loves, longs for – and despises or begrudges, too – Yuma, Arizona. Knowler wouldn’t even pretend to compare himself to Norman Blake or state that he’s deliberately taking up Blake’s heavy, heavy mantle in the 2020s, but I’m saying he is. Thank goodness.

Bryan McDowell, Bryan McDowell

You may recognize multi-instrumentalist Bryan McDowell from his time performing, recording, and touring with artists like Claire Lynch, Sierra Hull, Molly Tuttle, Alison Brown, and many, many more. He’s an incredibly talented sideman and session player, so when I first received his new self-titled solo album, I imagined the sort of formless instrumental project most pickers with similar resumés create. What a pleasant surprise to find a fully fledged, well-rounded, complete song sequence chocked full of original songs and McDowell’s lovely, honeyed singing voice. (I know Bryan and I didn’t know he sang like this!) It’s on me, really – I shouldn’t have been surprised at all – but McDowell’s skill set is clearly no longer just geared towards backing others up. I am looking forward to seeing what’s next.

Shelby Means, Shelby Means

Speaking of artists ready to step out of the role of sideperson or session musician. Bassist, singer, and songwriter Shelby Means’ debut solo album is fantastic. Since departing Molly Tuttle’s Golden Highway, Means has already built striking momentum as an artist unto herself, and the quick success of her album has played a huge role in that. With originals, tasteful (and surprising) covers, and a star-studded roster of pickers – Tuttle, Ron Block, Michael Cleveland, and more – the project certainly doesn’t feel like a debut. And it shouldn’t, Means has crisscrossed the country and the globe for decades, she’s more than ready to step to the center of the stage. She’s done it before, she’s doing it again – and now a lot more frequently, I’d bet.

The Onlies, You Climb the Mountain

All the best bluegrass is old-time these days. (I say that over and over again, here’s what it means.) While mainstream bluegrass sounds more like ‘90s country played by a bluegrass string band, or jamgrass, or “MASH” – all of which depart greatly from the 1945/1946 sound of its origin – modern old-time becomes more and more of an audio swatch of essential parts of what bluegrass used to sound like and used to include. One album this year that epitomizes this phenomenon is the Onlies’ You Climb the Mountain. Is it phenotypical bluegrass? Oh, no. It’s not. But it also has plenty of textures and tones endemic to original bluegrass that are becoming increasingly rare in its modern forms. I shouldn’t sell the Onlies short, though, they aren’t here because they’re “better bluegrass” than bluegrass, or more authentic, or more “real.” They’re here because this album is excellent, on its own terms.

Danny Paisley, Bluegrass State of Mind

Danny Paisley is celebrating 50 years of bluegrass with his latest album, Bluegrass State of Mind. Still looking for new challenges and trying to add fresh sparkle to his dyed-in-the-wool traditional sound, the new LP includes Dobro (for the first time), drums (sacrilege!), and a bit of an Americana lean. (Don’t you dare call it “grassicana.”) To BGS readers, the project will most likely sound like straight down the middle bluegrass of the highest order. Longtime fans of Paisley & the Southern Grass, though, may notice that very sparkle Danny has been chasing, as he targets new audiences and still sets new goals, five decades into his career as a bluegrass tradesman. It’s the family business.

Missy Raines & Allegheny, Love & Trouble

Missy Raines is one of the winningest musicians in the history of IBMA, amassing 10 Bass Player of the Year trophies over the years and and a handful of honors in other categories, as well. She may have won her biggest prize, though, when she landed on her latest band lineup, Missy Raines & Allegheny, a few years ago now. Her second album with the group, Love & Trouble, continues building upon the chemistry and collaboration that dripped from 2024’s Highlander. They often rise to the occasion of my preferred nickname for them, Mashy Raines & Allegheny, but they remain a consistently dynamic group capable of gritty, barn-burning bluegrass and contemplative and emotive slow burners, just the same.

Red Camel Collective, Red Camel Collective

They began as Junior Sisk’s backing band, and like many of the great “spinoff” bluegrass bands of yore – Quicksilver (Authentic Unlimited), the New South (American Drive), and many more – Red Camel Collective have quickly shown they’ve got the chops to take the same route. Their debut self-titled album was released earlier this year and was made at Sisk’s suggestion – and with his blessing. (He regularly steps off the stage at his own shows to spotlight the Collective and their music, as well.) This band of lifelong pickers have clocked so many miles playing bluegrass and executing the visions of others that, when charting their own course as Red Camel Collective, they’re able to sound exactly like themselves. It’s tough to sound singular in modern, radio-inclined bluegrass. But Red Camel Collective do. Is that why they won New Artist of the Year at the IBMA Awards this fall? It sure ain’t coincidence.

Sister Sadie, All Will Be Well

Sister Sadie’s All Will Be Well is like dropping the needle on a 45-minute bluegrass therapy session. I don’t say it flippantly or sarcastically; it is indeed shocking the level of earnest contemplation, processing, emoting, and growth evident in the songs on this album. At the same time, when you hear the tracks played down at a bustling bluegrass festival or a packed rock club or a subdued listening room, they never feel twee or try-hard or sodden with greeting-card level sentiments. They never feel heavy, actually – this is fun, often hilarious, party-ready music. Dance-along music. Shout-along songs. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry. (At the vocals alone.) These are real human ideas, thoughts, and feelings set to bluegrass. Imagine.

Larry Sparks, Way Back When

How does this album seem like it could have been pulled from any year, any decade of Bluegrass Hall of Famer Larry Spark’s sceptered career? Because it could have been, damnit. He’s Larry Sparks. Way Back When sounds warm and live, like listening to tape or vinyl over earbuds or cell phone speakers. Like being in the room with that resonant, vibrant, and patinated voice. The material is timeless, but never tired or lost in retrospection. Sparks is obviously making bluegrass in the present, as he always has. He just sounds exactly like this. And the way he talks about making music – as he did in a BGS interview set for publish in January 2026 – you can tell, for him, it’s essential to inhabit the present and inhabit the song. Bluegrass really is his calling, and we’re all all the better for it.

Billy Strings & Bryan Sutton, Live At The Legion

One of the best bluegrass albums of the year? Of course. One of the best live shows and tours of the year? Doubly, triply, quadruply of course. You’d think it would be brain-melting to listen to hours of two acoustic guitars and an electric bass pick through bluegrass, fiddle tunes, and Doc Watson classics, but it was divine. Trance-like – not with eyes glazed over, but on the edge of your seat. I wasn’t at that show at the Legion when they tracked the album, but was lucky enough to catch their show this fall at the Ryman in Nashville. If you weren’t so fortunate, don’t worry, ‘cause this isn’t an incredibly exclusive club. This record really does capture all that’s ineffable of being “in the room.” (No one is surprised.) Turns out, you can actually bottle and sell it, if you’re these two. Now if only you could buy the skillset, too…

Thompson the Fox, The Fox in Tiger’s Clothing, vol. 1 & vol. 2

Maybe once a year I trip over or into a new music discovery that gets me so excited I start getting annoyed with myself from having to hear me recommend them over and over again. With Thompson the Fox, it never got annoying (not to me, at least) and the excitement of turning folks onto their music still hasn’t worn off. So here we are, again. If this is your initiation, don’t thank me, thank the people who sent Thompson the Fox my way. Jazz, newgrass, bluegrass, bebop, ragtime, and oh-so-many more styles and textures combine in a completely fresh and distinctive form. I’ve never heard new acoustic music quite like this, yet it’s clearly rooted in that tradition. The simple math of xylophone, banjo, bass, and drums doesn’t quite math, but this group sounds resplendent, rich, and fascinating. Takumi Kodera on banjo is a revelation and Rie Koyama (xylophone), Akihide Teshima (bass), and Tomohito Yoshijima (drums) complete the Tokyo-based ensemble.

Cristina Vane, Hear My Call

Cristina Vane exists at an intersection of roots music that far too few inhabit, because very few can manage there. Vane can. She does blues, bluegrass, old-time, country, and Americana. Sometimes blended, sometimes compartmentalized. She’s got short-form, short-attention-span, vertical-video appeal for days, but her songs are never vapid or playing to any kind of commercial common denominator. Her instrumental skills and the passion for learning and song collection across roots and folk genres that she exhibits bring it all together. I’d not want to subject either woman to the corniness of comparing one to the other, but for folks who love Sierra Ferrell and are looking for more artists in a similar roots-meets-mainstream space, Cristina Vane can do it. She is doing it.

Vickie Vaughn, Travel On

Vickie Vaughn has won IBMA Bass Player of the Year for three years in a row and on the heels of that remarkable accomplishment, she’s released her debut full-length solo album, Travel On. Produced by Deanie Richardson of Sister Sadie, it’s Vaughn’s first recording under her own name released in 10 years. Original songs and covers are packaged in a sound that’s always trad bluegrass, but often infused with a dash of Osborne Brothers from the ‘80s or Jim & Jesse with a drum kit. It’s an Earl Scruggs Revue sort of flair, troubadour-steeped bluegrass-country. And it’s divine.

To conclude this long yet non-exhaustive and surely myopic list of the best bluegrass albums of 2025, let me leave you with this gentle reminder. What’s bluegrass and what’s best are always in the eye – and the ear – of the beholder.

What was your favorite bluegrass album of 2025? Let us know on social media. We hope you discover some new music to love in our BGS Class of 2025 and we can’t wait to make new discoveries with you, too.


BGS Staff contributed to this list.

Photo Credit: Shelby Means by Hunter McRae; Shawn Camp by Neilson Hubbard; Sierra Hull by Spencer Showalter.

Gimme That Old-Time
Non-Monogamy

At times frowned upon or occasionally slandered, covers are as deep-rooted as the songs and the emerald valleys that have produced them.

Indeed, covers stir discussion, spark research, and add another patch to the great heart-sewn embroidery of music. Fashioned in a similar vein to the original – that’s flattery. When a song circles across genre divides, well, that’s an enriching voyage.

The members of Kissing Other pplRachel Baiman and folk duo Viv & Riley – see their endeavor not just as an individual artistic sojourn but as a larger opportunity to establish a collective conversation. Here, they’ve taken a handful of mostly rock and pop songs and blended, marinated, and sautéed them in unfamiliar flavors. The end results turned out nearer to their own identities.

“I grew up playing traditional Appalachian style,” said Riley. “This is not that!”

Baiman is a sincere and dogged lyricist, with a harmonious ear and a top contender’s punch. She grew up in Chicago, with a factory-made violin in her hands and an insatiable curiosity for why and how music could conform and contort to her swiftly evolving moods. Somewhere along the line, she started getting serious about music and purchased a John Silakowski five-string fiddle on a lengthy installment plan. She arrived in Nashville at age 18, riding fragile finances. Slogging on foot, lugging her fiddle in a hard, cumbersome case, she lacked the extra dollars to hail a taxi. Her odd jobs were many: dog walking; catering; reading novels and writing summaries for a sociology professor; she once even held a job organizing a comedy contest. But a fearless, tenacious sense of purpose compelled her to stick with music.

Pondering all of these circumstances in her heart, Baiman released several persuasive projects, including Shame (2017) and Common Nation of Sorrow (2023). Riley Calcagno, one half of the contemplative folk duo Viv & Riley, added stringed support and pre-production assets to one of Rachel’s albums.

Subsequently, Baiman asked Riley and Vivian Leva (the other half of the duo) if they’d be willing to join her on tour, where long hours on the road were spent in between gigs consuming, swapping, and contemplating music. Baiman’s traditional background taught her how to fully perceive a recording – whether an old fiddle tune or multi-generational, passed down ballad, or even a contemporary pop song – to not only hear it superficially, but to visualize its promise. Through prolonged stretches of asphalt and expressway, she’d oftentimes wonder what she, if given the opportunity, could bring to a certain song.

 

@kissing.other.ppl♬ original sound – kissingotherpplband

“The idea stems from Rachel’s musical generosity and curiosity and the extended times in those van rides,” said Riley. “Eventually, the songs included were the ones that we’d all individually had been listening to and were moved by. Songs that had stopped us in our tracks at different realms of our lives. Songs that hit us emotionally or otherwise… spontaneously contributed in the week that we recorded them.”

Some of Riley’s earliest memories are of his father’s fondness of traditional music. His father played the guitar, fiddle, mandolin, and banjo. At age 3, the younger Calcagno expressed interest in the fiddle. Though he was raised in an unrelentingly urban environment in the heart of Seattle he was never far from the folksy hospitality of music: square dances, jams, and potlucks. At the Wintergrass Music Festival in Bellevue, Washington, he formed connections with musicians originating from the sparsest, most countrified swaths of the state.

“I discovered an authentic-feeling bluegrass scene in the state and an old-time rural music scene on the West Coast that was kept going by people living in cities,” he explained, “and I don’t see that at all as contradictory.”

Like many other kids his age who grew up in Seattle, beginning in middle school, Riley burned liberal hours listening to local indie rock, though the attachment he had made with traditional music would override all else. He met Vivian Leva at a music camp in the Seattle area which emphasized the cultural importance of preserving long-standing traditions.

“I was a fan of Viv’s parents’ music,” said Riley. “We started playing music right away. Viv is a gifted songwriter. We started passing ideas back and forth. That was eight years ago.”

Vivian Leva was born and raised in Lexington, Virginia, in the Shenandoah Valley close to the abounding cultural and geographical influences of Charlottesville, Roanoke, and the Blue Ridge Mountains. It’s a small town with a deep worship of bluegrass and old-time narratives.

“Before I was born, it was a big hub of old-time traditional music,” said Viv. “Young people moved here for the rich, blossoming scene. My dad came here at 18 and stayed forever.”

Viv’s father, too, took a particular interest in the fiddle, traveling to neighboring counties and states to observe and jam. Her mother sang and guitar-picked, emulating and scrutinizing the local and regional ballads she had fallen in love with. They attended old-time fiddler’s conventions as a family. And when her parents formed a duo and headed out on the highway, sometimes she would share in such jaunts first-hand.

“When I was little I went on tour with them for a bit,” said Viv. “As a teenager, I was playing in my dad’s bands. As a kid he would bring me up to sing a song on stage.”

Certainly, music has long filled the souls of Rachel, Viv, and Riley with good things – and Kissing Other ppl is a remembrance of affection as much as it is a representation of impression. Indeed, Baiman said that Kissing Other ppl is a natural extension of her – and her counterparts’ – inquisitiveness, their attempt to understand the mysterious processes of expression, meaning, and memory.

“In reality,” said Rachel, “I don’t think any band or musical project should attempt monogamy, because you miss out on so many opportunities to learn and grow and bring new inspiration back to your main role.”

Similar to Rachel, Viv finds original songwriting to be a sacred, mysterious place to dwell. But she also believes that covers are a part of the whole process of an artist’s maturity, the recognition of the music of one’s friends, mentors, neighbors, and across-the-board community.

“There can be a stigma about covers,” she said. “You can’t make it your own. You are not creative enough to make your own music. It’s a shortcut. It’s a cop out. But as someone who has written a lot of songs and released a lot of records of original music, and plans to do so in the future, I don’t see it that way. It is an acknowledgment of how being inspired by other people’s music is such an important part of creating your own music. You can’t make your own music in a vacuum.”

“Anytime that you are playing a song, you are creating it again in the moment, and re-interpreting in your own way,” added Riley. “Whether it is a cover or an old traditional song, you still have the power to sing it and do it in a way that really moves someone.”

Baiman said the intuitive, empathetic nature of the type of music she plays requires that she be an attentive observer as well as a cordial, broad-minded learner – prerequisites for a collaboration of this sort.

“I think that having a background in old-time and fiddle music in general really prepares you to be a musician who listens,” said Rachel. “If you approach any musical situation with the mindset of, ‘Can I do something to help support the group musically here?’, that goes a long way.

“Old-time really prepares you for the idea that your best contribution might be not to play at all. The bar is really high for joining in, you have to make sure you’re adding something that isn’t already there, and you’re not dragging down the groove. That’s part of the etiquette of informal jamming and it translates to professional playing.”

A fine cover such as the group’s rendition of Wilco’s “Ashes of American Flags” not only illuminates a previous desire, elevating or enriching it with brand new urgency, but in some fashion it obliges the total re-evaluation of the original.

“There are people who are not able to handle ‘Ashes of American Flags’ because of the context, or they come from a different generation, or they don’t like Jeff Tweedy singing it,” said Riley. “Why not give a song like that another chance or give it another life? If you have a song that’s fun, or one that hits hard, emotionally, lyrically, or harmonically, maybe you can add to it, instead of just burying it on a playlist.”

Riley notes that many of the greatest records and biggest chart sellers are in fact cover-centric productions, though they might not have been advertised or promoted as such at the time. Many great albums are rife with songs written by others, sometimes entire roomfuls of songwriters on Music Row. Many memorable albums, such as Bob Dylan’s 1962 self-titled debut, only have a small number of originals; among the traditional folk and blues arrangements, Dylan’s had but two.

Indeed, Kissing Other ppl simply builds on a long tradition of artists rearranging songs that they like and then reinserting them back into the public sphere of approval.

“We seem to be obsessed with originality in our current moment and society,” said Riley. “But we are also at a time when art and – the pursuit of it – is less funded and less valued monetarily than ever. So many of the great records that we love are cover records. Ours isn’t heavy-handed.”

Perhaps one sterling example of a cover album that marvelously nudged old material into fresh fields was Tim O’Brien’s Red on Blonde, on which O’Brien grabbed a handful of Dylan songs, tinkered with their framework, and dragged them into bluegrass brightness. Many of these songs have stuck around since the album’s release in 1996 and bluegrass buffs routinely call out titles such as “Señor (Tales of Yankee Power)” and “Farewell Angelina.”

One of the record’s most memorable tracks is a rendition of Jason Molina’s “Hold On Magnolia,” which draws out the spookily and eerily beautiful essence of the inscrutable artist’s mystifying original. Rachel’s fiddle punctuates the abstract stylishness with characteristic splendor and aplomb.

“Jason Molina [1973-2013] was one of the greatest songwriters,” said Riley. “He grew up in Lorain, Ohio, and he went to Oberlin College, where I went. He had a rough life and died of alcohol-related complications. He left so much amazing music behind… if even one person hears our version and goes and listens to his records then it is a job well done.”

Alluding to Molina, Viv noted the deferential nature of covers and their special reward.

“That’s the cool element of doing a record of covers,” she said. “You can inspire people with that special song that resonates and if they haven’t heard of that artist, they can go back and listen to their work.”

On both “Hold On Magnolia” and “Ashes of American Flags,” Viv found herself in the new position of playing the drums. She sensed the two songs required the presence of drums and their inclusion was inspired by her simple desire to test the unfamiliar.

“One of the incentives I had to go to guitar lessons when I was younger was that my teacher would let me play drums for the last ten minutes of the lesson,” said Viv. “During COVID, Riley surprised me with a drum kit. He got an electric guitar. We were having fun during the lockdown in our basement. We were doing less folk music, and experimenting with instruments outside of the immediate folk genre. So, I took a crack at it.”

“I think it is a testament to the spirit of making the record that we felt comfortable putting her on the drums,” added Riley. “[Producer] Greg D. Griffith made the snare drums sound huge and awesome, adding a big element to the tracks.”

One song that Viv introduced to the project was “Born to Lose” by Waylon Payne, and the diversity in these respective arrangements is startling: Payne’s original was supported by a complete country band; the new offering is sagaciously stripped down, extracting every syllable of bitterness, sorrow, self-loathing, and private turmoil from the lyrics.

“I had been particularly into this artist, Waylon Payne,” said Viv. “His vocals are really fascinating to me. His ornamentation is really incredible. I spent a lot of time trying to figure out what he was doing. I was definitely interested in trying to get his vocal ornaments similar, because I think that they are really beautiful.”

The spacey, moody “Where’d All the Time Go?” by Doctor Dog was another one of Rachel’s proposals.

“That is a fun song to do as a trio, because of its echoing harmony parts,” said Viv. “I would have never picked that song for myself to learn. That’s what made it challenging. It took me outside of my vocal comfort zone, and that was a fun challenge for me.”

The name of the band, Kissing Other ppl, is a teasing affirmation of one of the pop songs covered on the album, a soft, mischievous Lennon Stella song released in 2020.

“It has a fun and flirty vibe,” said Riley, “but it also gets to something funny and true about relationships. It captures the lightness of the experience of playing music and hanging out, and not taking yourself too seriously. It was Rachel’s idea and she stuck with it. It is awkward and funny, and why not? Life is short.”

Baiman said the namesake reveals a good-natured admittance of the diversionary quality of art.

“Coming from two different projects that are based in original music and collaborating on cover songs,” said Rachel, “we chose the band name as a playful nod to the idea that we were cheating on our own projects by trying something different and new.”

The trio intends to take their reincarnated versions on the road. Beyond that they have no fixed plans to continue – or, for that matter, discontinue – sewing and hemming their skills and interests together.

Indeed, sustained in its own special love and humility, kissing other ppl expresses not just innovative lyricism and beautiful buzzes, but a powerful sense of understanding. What Rachel, Viv, and Riley all agree on is that the genre or style of its communication is less important than the nourishing energy and want that necessitated its assembly.

“In the end, a lot of the songs are ambiguous,” said Viv. “It is hard to say exactly what some of the songs are about. We are not spelling out what you should be thinking or feeling. It’s just cool to see how other people are able to communicate things in totally different ways than how you would communicate them. But somehow it still hits you.”


Photos courtesy of the artist.