Artist:The Steel Wheels Hometown: Harrisonburg, Virginia Latest album:Everyone a Song, Volume 1 Personal nicknames (or rejected band names): Trent Wagner and The Steel Wagler
Answers by Trent Wagler
What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?
I remember a festival finale performance of “The Weight” in northern Alberta where we were thrust (last minute) into leading the song. Isn’t “The Weight” some sort of Canadian anthem? I don’t know, we felt a little like impostors, but it became even more hilarious when a whole bunch of volunteers and other musicians hopped on stage and we were given conflicting accounts of who was singing what verses. In the end Michael Franti surprised us by appearing on the drum kit and singing a verse that included a little change of lyrics name-checking the festival. It was memorable.
What was the first moment that you knew you wanted to be a musician?
When I was about 9 years old, I played Duffy the Fluffy in a small church Christmas play called Baa, Baa, Bethlehem. I slicked my hair back and wore sunglasses and sang a song that went, “Duffy the Fluffy is who I’m gonna be, come to the city you’ll be waiting to see me.” And the rest of the sheep sang, “Get a job, baa baa baa, baa, baa baa baa baa baa.” But I had a guitar strapped around my neck and I sang with confidence. Wait, maybe THAT was my favorite memory from being on stage!
What rituals do you have, either in the studio or before a show?
In the studio, I always tape a sheet of paper on the wall with the title of each song we are recording. On that paper, we keep a running list of notes, ideas, or whatever that song still needs. It’s helpful to have a visual representation of notes, and when things are dragging along, there’s a sense of accomplishment to crossing off each note. When the song is finished, it’s ceremoniously taped on a different wall.
Which elements of nature do you spend the most time with and how do those impact your work?
I try to ride bike everyday. Recently, I’ve been most excited about gravel road rides, a bit easier than mountain biking, but with a similar feeling of distance from civilization. I love the way riding a bike gives you respect for a mountain. The bicycle also turns you into a different kind of an animal. Sometimes a mule, sometimes a bird, but I usually feel transformed after a good bike ride. And the whole process, of getting away, being in nature, and riding is a great reset for my creativity. I live in the Shenandoah Valley and the beauty of the landscape finds a way into my writing all the time. There is a reason that rivers and mountains are cliché metaphors, because there is an undeniable depth and power to them.
Since food and music go so well together, what is your dream pairing of a meal and a musician?
It seems like I should say I’d eat a fistful of cigarettes and a barrel of red wine and listen to Tom Waits and Leonard Cohen, but I can’t think of a better pairing than Brandi Carlile and some wild-caught salmon. There are musicians that garner praise from critics and others that have an easy-listening popular songs for the masses, but very few thread the needle like Brandi Carlile. She might be the only music my wife, 16-year-old daughter, and I can all passionately agree on. You know how salmon looks like it’s just a layer of pure pink muscle? Brandi’s songs are all muscle.
“I decided to make a mixtape of the songs that inspired me to write music. It is always good to return to the reason you started something, especially if you find yourself lost in the middle or far from the start and you need to anchor back to where you began. It’s like going home to reground, rejuvenate, and revitalize! Luckily music is a portable home on our phones these days so I can always dive back in whenever I need to. I hope you enjoy my Mixtape!” — Lily Kershaw
Simon & Garfunkel – “The Sound of Silence”
I chose this song to begin with because it was the first song I heard that made me want to write music. I remember the first time I heard it the world felt like it stopped and an immediate desire to create a song arose in me.
Joni Mitchell – “Cactus Tree”
I’ve been listening to Joni since I was a kid, and this song of her’s in particular made me want to write. I love that she is talking about a woman who would be deemed as “complicated” just because of her desire to be untethered and free, but Joni made her seem so alive and well and glamorous. I remember wanting to be like the woman she sang of.
“He can think her there beside him He can miss her just the same”
How brilliant is that lyric?!
Leonard Cohen – “Chelsea Hotel #2”
I have covered this song at the majority of shows I’ve ever played live. Cohen wrote this about Janis Joplin. These particular lyrics break my heart:
“Ah but you got away didn’t you babe You just turned your back on the crowd You got away I never once heard you say I need you, I don’t need you”
Crosby, Stills & Nash – “Helplessly Hoping”
I went through a very dark season in my life and the first thing I would do when I woke up in the morning during that time was listen to this song. It would make me feel better even if only for a fleeting moment. I always hope that the music I write can bring comfort to anyone who needs it.
Bob Dylan – “A Simple Twist of Fate”
“People tell me it’s a sin To know and feel too much within”
I deeply relate to these lyrics.
Joan Baez – “Diamonds And Rust”
Joan actually wrote this song about Bob Dylan. The poetry is next level!
“Well you burst on the scene already a legend the unwashed phenomenon The original vagabond You strayed into my arms And there you stayed temporarily lost at sea The Madonna was yours for free Yes the girl on the half shelf could keep you unharmed”
Cat Stevens – “The Wind”
This song always re-grounds me and connects me back to my heart and my goal to write music and tell stories from my heart.
Elliott Smith – “Between the Bars”
This is another song I love to cover live and have done so often. I love and relate to this passage of lyrics in particular:
“People you’ve been before that you don’t want around anymore That push and shove and won’t bend to your will I’ll keep them still”
Nico – “These Days”
I love a woman simply speaking about where she is at in that moment of her life. It is honest, poetic, simple, and profound.
“I’ve been out walking I don’t do too much talking these days These days These days I seem to think a lot about the things I forgot to do”
Sufjan Stevens – “Chicago”
This song brings me life. I feel so many things when I listen to this song. It definitely connects me back to my heart and to the place in me that wants to write music.
Now comes the part of my mixtape that is solely a Simon & Garfunkel appreciation section. Here are some of the lyrics that have most inspired me to write!
Simon & Garfunkel – “The Boxer”
“I am leaving I am leaving but the fighter still remains”
Simon & Garfunkel – “The Dangling Conversation”
“In the dangling conversation and the superficial sighs The borders of our lives
And you read your Emily Dickinson and I my Robert Frost and we note our place with book markers that measure what we’ve lost”
Simon & Garfunkel – “The Only Living Boy in New York”
“Half of the time we’re gone but we don’t know where And we don’t know where”
Now these next two songs are ones I have written. They show the side of what the inspiration from the songs thus far have lead me to create!
Lily Kershaw – “Now & Then”
This is a simple honest folk song about the complicated nature of love and how it changes over time.
“Remember the rooftop parties Remember the friends Remember the way I love you now and the way that I loved you then”
Lily Kershaw – “Darker Things”
This is another of my more acoustic, stripped songs. In it I worry about someone I love very much and how they are hurting and in return hurting themself.
“And you say you hate the way your mind makes you feel about all the darker things in your life I feel you now I can feel you”
I hope you have enjoyed my mixtape of the songs that inspired me to write music!
Artist:Jeremy Ivey Hometown: Still looking for it Latest Album:The Dream and the Dreamer Nickname: Jivey Old band names: The Lunar Ticks, Riverbottom, and Horse Sense.
Which artist has influenced you the most … and how?
I was influenced early on by poetry. Poets like T.S. Eliot, Poe, Dickinson, Keats… all those ones you get exposed to in high school. I put a tune to Longfellow’s “The Fire of Driftwood” And would play and sing it. Later I got into the Beats and that really twisted my head in the best way. After that it was Bob Dylan, Joni Mitchell, Leonard Cohen and all the song poets.
What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?
The first time I got to join John Prine for “Paradise” and more recently, I did my first encore. That was surreal.
What other art forms — literature, film, dance, painting, etc. — inform your music?
I think of everything as an influence. I mean, when I was a toddler I watched Captain Kangaroo, when I was 9 my uncle was struck by lightning, when I was in high school I had a deep infatuation with a girl I was invisible to. That’s all living art and I think it affects the art we in turn make. Film is definitely important because of dialogue. There’s dialogue in songs too. I like Sam Peckinpah.
What was the first moment that you knew you wanted to be a musician?
I’m still not sure I want to. It’s more of a calling I guess…a nervous twitch I can’t seem to shake
What’s the toughest time you ever had writing a song?
Oh I don’t know, I probably blocked it out. I try not to try when comes to writing. There’s no bigger drag than hitting that high stone wall of effort over inspiration. I try to stay inspired period. If it’s not happening in a song I’ll go find it in nature or in a book.
This summer, BGS UK is celebrating the festival makers – the men and women who put their time, their finances and their sanity on the line to bring us the music we love. For the past decade, Israeli-born Uri Kohen has been flying the flag for roots music in the west of Ireland with his Westport Folk and Bluegrass Festival in County Mayo. What started out as a labour of love has become an event that draws people back, year after year, from across the globe. We caught up with Uri to find out more.
BGS: Uri, describe your hometown of Westport for those of us who haven’t been there.
It’s beautiful! It was voted as Ireland’s best town to live in and we still very much hold that title. It’s particularly famous for the mountain overlooking the town, Croagh Patrick, where St. Patrick sat 40 days and nights and banished the snakes from Ireland. We’ve got some of the best restaurants in the country, and they recently built an entire cycle lane all the way round called the Greenway which brings people in droves to ride their bikes. Brilliant pubs, too.
But it’s not where you’re originally from.
No, I grew up in a kibbutz in the west of Israel.
Is there a bluegrass scene in Israel?
Not particularly. I’d never heard bluegrass before I came to Ireland. But in the 1970s an English couple moved to a kibbutz called Ginosar, and they started a festival called Jacob’s Ladder. It was focused on Anglo Saxon music, so there was English folk, Scottish ballads, and American folk too. There was even a massive scale square dance! They’re still running it and it’s a super cool festival. You do hear bluegrass instruments getting into Israeli music now – pop albums with banjo.
What were your musical influences, growing up there?
My parents were socialists so the music they listened to in their early 20s was real workers’ music. My dad had spent two years in the US so he was influenced by that; he researched Alan Lomax and was a big fan of Leadbelly! And of The Weavers, Johnny Cash, and Peter, Paul & Mary… Pete Seeger came to Israel in 1964 and my dad actually got to meet him. But when I started stealing my parents’ records I chose the Bob Dylan and the Leonard Cohen.
You mention that they were politically inspired by the folk artists. Was there a lot of music making on the kibbutz too?
Yes, but bear in mind that most of the people that lived in my kibbutz were immigrants from Eastern Europe, so at that time Israeli music was heavily influenced by Russian music, led by accordion, clarinet and fiddle. The accordion was the main instrument and it’s still very popular to do public singing there – people pay good money to go and sing along with someone who leads them in communal singing. My granddad, who came from Austria, had played in a mandolin orchestra when he lived there, and I have a picture of him doing that which is cool.
You didn’t want to be a musician yourself?
I couldn’t play so I became a sound technician, which is the Failed Musician Syndrome. I loved rock and roll, and even as a little kid I was DJ-ing for friends and at school parties. I didn’t have equipment – I just used to sit all night and tape the songs from the radio. The ability to shape people’s mood by playing them good tunes is something I love to this day. Then at 14 I joined a sound company in my local village and I became fascinated by speakers and microphones. I really learned my craft touring the former Soviet Union as a sound engineer for the Israeli army’s bands. We had to work with whatever equipment we found there, and it wasn’t much.
Uri Kohen
How did you end up moving to Ireland?
It was like an actual dream. I woke up one day when I was about 16 with this epiphany and told my parents I was moving to Ireland. I didn’t know much about Ireland at all but I was charmed by it. Once I had the idea it was where I wanted to be, I read books and watched films about it and as soon as I saw The Commitments I knew that’s the way I wanted to live my life. Own a pub, live in the countryside. So that’s what I did! I flew to Dublin on a one-way ticket. I’m sure my parents were upset about it, but then again, my father went to kibbutz which wasn’t what his parents raised him to do… They’d taught us to do our own thing and so in a way they were probably proud of it.
Westport seems like a pretty remote part of the country to end up in.
There was an Israeli man by the same name, Uri, who lived here, and I knew of him, and he’d said sure if you’re in Ireland come over for a look. I went down and stayed in his house for three weeks! Within a week or two I got a job in a pub, and about the same time I met Leesa — who is now my wife. I don’t believe in fate but still, I couldn’t believe I ended up here, and that everything just worked out so well.
So you moved to Ireland, knew nothing about bluegrass — and now you run the country’s biggest bluegrass festival. Explain.
Well, I’d been running pubs and I’d almost left music production behind. Then one year some friends asked me to help them put on a Kurt Cobain tribute night and suddenly we had 200 people and six bands, something this small rural town had never seen before. Until then we’d just had a local band called the Kit Kat Boys because they’d play two songs and have a cigarette break. It inspired this idea to really develop the music scene in the town with a strong emphasis on production values and quality acts.
Anyway, I had the idea of doing a festival in the style of The Band’s The Last Waltz. I was imagining music like the Grateful Dead, and then someone said, “Why not do it with bluegrass?” I said, “I don’t have a clue what bluegrass is, but let’s do it.” And the great thing about Ireland is that the bluegrass family here is so keen that they came in droves. I couldn’t believe it. I remember the campers arriving on Thursday… I was so confused. I said “We don’t start til tomorrow!”
What has running the festival taught you about Irish bluegrass?
First of all it is way bigger than what we think. Both from a musician’s perspective and a fan’s one. Second, you don’t need to be an expert to enjoy this stuff. When I came to this music Bill Monroe and Lester Flatt meant nothing to me. What’s important for the crowds is that the acts are good — not whether you play Kentucky-style or California-style.
Festivals are famously risky from a business point of view. Did you ever feel out of your depth?
In the second and third years I lost a lot of money because I was determined to book the best bands I could. But the response was amazing and it just grew and grew. I think I hit the jackpot choosing this style because these musicians want to play all the time. I brought the Loose Moose String Band from Liverpool and they almost played for 72 hours straight. And I’ve seen Tim Rogers — who’s the number one fiddler in Ireland and the managing director of the festival — once do a session for 11 hours solid.
Every night we have a gala concert but everything other gig is free and bluegrassers are so approachable that seasonal musicians who just have a fiddle lying in their house can come and join the sessions with the headline acts. It’s like playing on the street with Bruce Springsteen – when people see it for the first time they are blown away. For instance, in 2012 Roni Stoneman played an afternoon set, and there was a young feller, 13 years of age. Roni, in her 70s, plays “Dueling Banjos” with him. He returned to the festival year after year, and now he’s one of the most sought-after banjo players in the country.
So who excites you in this year’s line-up?
Brennen Leigh and Noel McKay, a country folk duo from Austin, Texas, are going to close the main stage on Saturday night with some special guests. And I can’t wait to see The Local Honeys, a duo doing old-time music from East Kentucky, doing a gospel hour on the Sunday morning. We’re also bringing over a six-piece from Alaska called Big Chimney Barn Dance, and Blue Summit from California, with the brilliant AJ Lee. It’s their first-ever visit across the water! There’ll be sixteen different acts including bands from Paris and the Netherlands and of course Ireland and the UK.
Sounds like you’ve got the beginnings of your own Bluegrass Eurovision.
As I like to say, it takes an Israeli man to bring a French band to play traditional American music in Ireland. I truly believe in world peace through bluegrass! We have all the worlds’ problems sorted here.
Artist:Tim Baker Hometown: St. John’s, Newfoundland Latest album:Forever Overhead
What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?
In late 2017 my former band Hey Rosetta played our final farewell shows before going on hiatus, and probably the final one had the most beauty packed into it I can remember being packed into any show before or since. We were a seven-piece sort of scrappy orchestral indie-rock band from St John’s, Newfoundland, that somehow managed to tour off the island and around the world and get awards and make records for 12 years and I have no idea how we did it but our hometown was very proud of us and good to us and the very final show was in the sold-out stadium there. It had so much emotion and love and nostalgia and significance around it that I don’t think my feet touched the ground the whole time, even though I had bronchitis and strep throat or some god-awful combination of classic touring lead-singer afflictions. I sang and played everything powered by 12 years of support and love and it is the brightest and biggest and best memory I have a show.
If you had to write a mission statement for your career, what would it be?
Listen, sing freely, think freely, listen, don’t be too hard on yourself, don’t be too easy on yourself, listen, work, play, and try to have it all help people and do good. By mostly listening.
Which elements of nature do you spend the most time with and how do those impact your work?
As a Newfoundlander recently resettled in Toronto I spend a lot of time missing and dreaming of nature. And actually this impacts my work a lot. Several songs on this latest record are about moving from a place with easy, instant access to the ocean and the woods, to this grey and glass land of shadows and cars. About trying to get back home, whether literally, or to some forest from our collective past.
Since food and music go so well together, what is your dream pairing of a meal and a musician?
Well, as a man with a lot of dietary restrictions these days I may be more excited about the dream meal than the company, but I would love the most to sit down with Leonard Cohen himself and eat a grilled cheese sandwich, followed by some handmade raviolis, and then some Montreal smoked meat sandwiches, all there around the corner from where he lived and wrote for so long. And then maybe some coffee and cookies and a walk through the mountain after.
How often do you hide behind a character in a song or use “you” when it’s actually “me”?
You are always doing this. Perhaps it’s a defense when your songs get too personal, or perhaps you don’t want to come off as a narcissist that alienates your audience, but yeah, you do this a lot. But actually it can be kind of nice when you listen to songs years later, when you’ve grown so far from that younger singer, and you feel that perhaps this kid is indeed talking to you, and sometimes even has something to say to you.
On her new album, She Remembers Everything, Rosanne Cash keeps watching the clock. It’s an album about time slipping away, about the bittersweet realization that you have more time behind you than ahead. “It just wasn’t long enough,” she sings on the hymn-like “Everyone But Me.” “Still it seems too long.” And on “Many Miles to Go” she puts her affairs in order, itemizing the artifacts and inside jokes she shares with John Leventhal, her frequent collaborator, longtime producer, and husband of twenty-three years. With its rambling, almost anxious upbeat tempo, the song celebrates their relationship more than it commiserates its inevitable end: “There aren’t many miles to go and just one promise left to keep.”
However, she didn’t record that song with Leventhal, who produced roughly half the tracks on She Remembers Everything. He was, she says, shy about the song. Instead Cash traveled about as far from her home as she could, all the way from Manhattan to Portland, Oregon, to record with the album’s other producer, Tucker Martine. By disrupting her creative process, she says, “It did break something open in me.”
You’ve mentioned that these songs are very autobiographical. How does your relationship with these personal songs change over time? What is it like to revisit them onstage?
I played some of these songs for the first time just recently, and it felt good. I felt very relaxed with them. You know how the truth can unsettle you and scare you, but the truth can also allow you to let your guard down and relax? That’s how I felt. But it’s different every night. Every audience is going to bring something different to what they hear, and hopefully they will bring their own lives to it. They’re not coming to hear about my feelings or about my life. They’re coming to experience their own lives and their own feelings. They’re coming to have things reflected back to them that will be revealing or inspiring or whatever.
That’s the function of art. It’s that kind of service industry. We help you access your life and feelings. It’s not about narcissism. It’s not about me. That takes the fear out of it. These aren’t diaries; they’re songs. There’s craft that went into them. There’s music. There’s a beat and a melody. So I’m not going to be up there naked.
That leads me to another song I wanted to ask about, “Not Many Miles to Go,” which almost sounds like a letter you wrote to your husband.
I have a very tender feeling about that song because I really did write it for John — and to John. When you’re in a long-term relationship, it’s inevitable that one of you is going to leave the other. It’s sad, but it’s worth acknowledging the artifacts of your life together, even if it’s just a Telecaster. So you know when we’re gone, that Telecaster will still be here. Our son will probably play it. I wanted to document those things for us.
I like the idea we keep the beat for each other.
That’s a beautiful idea, and a close couple will do that for each other. When I wrote that line, I was thinking about the actual tempo when I play rhythm guitar for him. We have to remind each other to stay in time. I’ll tell him he’s too slow, or he’ll tell me my timing is off. He used to complain about my meter a lot, and then we did a gig with some other people a few years ago. When he came offstage, John said, “I’m never complaining about your timing again!”
How does he feel about the song? It’s really an intimate conversation in front of the audience.
I think John felt a little shyer about it than I did, but I think he’s gotten past that. And his guitar solo just kills me, especially that real Telecaster sound that he pulls off. It sounds like Clarence White or James Burton. When I wrote the song, it had more of a folk vibe, and then Tucker took it to this really intense place with a lot of energy to the arrangement. That was a bit of genius on Tucker’s part. It’s funny, I couldn’t have done that song with John. I had to do it with Tucker, and then we flew John’s solo into the track.
How did you end up working with Tucker Martine?
I’m a huge Decemberists fan, and he works with them. Then I heard the case/lang/veirs record he produced and I just loved it so much. I’d been thinking that I wanted to break away from John a little bit, because I felt I’d grown so dependent on him. He has very forceful opinions and it’s easy for me to acquiesce to his sensibilities because he’s such a gifted musician. I started thinking, you know, I need to be making those decisions, even if the choices are “wrong.” I need to do that. I called Tucker out of the blue and asked if he’d be interested in working with me. I truly didn’t know what he would say. Maybe I wasn’t his kind of thing.
But he said he’d love to and it was a matter of getting our schedules together. I was nervous, he was nervous — we didn’t know how it was going to work out. But it was this incredible experience, start to finish. I teared up many times, feeling so grateful to be working with him. It did break something open in me. After doing five tracks with Tucker, I came back to work with John and I felt fresh. We wrote some of the best songs I think we’ve ever written, like “Crossing to Jerusalem” and “Everyone But Me.” I had most of the lyrics for “The Undiscovered Country” and he wrote the music for it.
And you got The Decemberists frontman, Colin Meloy, on the record, too.
That was through Tucker. I was really shy about asking him and one day I just asked Tucker if he thought Colin would sing on the record. He thought he might, so he called him and Colin came down to sing on “The Only Thing Worth Fighting For.” While he was there, we snookered him into singing on “Rabbit Hole.”
Overall, on these songs, I get the sense of time running out. This seems to be an album about realizing that time is short and that creates a sense of urgency.
Well, time is running out. It’s an hourglass. It’s less than half-full now, and I feel an urgency about saying whatever else I have left to say. It’s really quite emotional to me. The regrets I have at the end of my life — except for the regrets I have about hurting anyone or mistakes I made as a mother — are going to be about what I didn’t say in my work, in my life. What I held back. So there is some urgency to get that out there, but I feel more liberated than ever because now my thinking is, what’s the point of not doing it or not saying it? This is the life I’ve chosen, to live in a public sphere and to be in this service industry of songwriting and performing. I don’t want to hedge my bets anymore.
Most people would rather not think about the time they have left and what to do with it. I know I’m guilty of that a lot of the time.
It’s painful, so that’s what we do: We push away what we don’t want to consider. Buddhists say death is certain, so how will you live? We push out the first part, and then we push out the second part to the extent that we default on our choices every day. We put the blinders on and think we have forever. I do not exempt myself from that. I do it, too. I say, “I’m going to wait to do that.” No. Can’t do it anymore.
When I heard Leonard Cohen’s You Want It Darker, that gave me a little more courage. Even the title of that Paul McCartney album from a few years ago, Memory Almost Full, struck me too. Paul and Leonard are obviously older than me, but they were signposts in that direction. I notice those things when they’re out in the world. I notice those pieces of poetry and music. I find myself responding to it more and feeling somewhat comforted by the fact that other people my age are doing it as well.
Photo of Rosanne Cash: Michael Lavine Illustration: Zachary Johnson
Modern songs that deal with important topics. Not all of these songs pinpoint specific political or social issues but they contribute to the conversations I believe we need be having in society today. When I am frustrated or angry or scared about the state of the world, these are songs that inspire me to focus my energy. They remind me that art is relevant and in fact an important tool in the global discussion. — Carson McHone
“To the Boys” — Molly Burch
Molly is a local Austin favorite and her latest record covers lots of territory. This one’s very direct and delivers an undeniable punch. Also it’s super catchy!
“Glass Jar” – Tristen
Killer pop songs all over Tristen’s latest release. “Glass Jar” examines social media I believe … great imagery!
“Wild Blue Wind” — Erin Rae
Like Tristen, Erin Rae is based in Nashville and tapped in to some very relative issues including sexual identity and, in “Wild Blue Wind,” struggles with mental health. This song is so beautiful and it makes me cry every time I hear it.
“Bad Bad News” — Leon Bridges
This song is something else. It’s heavy, but it rises above and is groovy in every way. It’s my favorite thing from him so far…
“(Gone Is) All but a Quarry of Stone” – Premix Single — Daniel Romano
Both this song and the accompanying video are devastating. There’s something so beautiful and timeless about the melody and yet the song is haunting and foreboding, suggesting, well, just doom it seems. And I love this premix version.
“Little Movies” — Aaron Lee Tasjan
Another Nashvillian making waves and great music. “Little Movies” I believe also deals with the modern age of technology and social media, how we establish our presence on the screen, definitely a worthy topic for discussion.
“Boyfriend” — Marika Hackman
She’s not afraid to get dirty. Marika Hackman’s lyrics always dig deep. The music on her 2018 I’m Not Your Man album, this song in particular, is more raw and rockin’ than I’ve heard from her before and it’s totally killer.
“Image” — Lera Lynn
Every line is great. Relevant? I’d say especially these days!
“The Body Electric” — Hurray for the Riff Raff
This song does a beautiful job of reaching back in time and bringing a common, and dark, theme into the spotlight of modern times. The tune and the video are working on lots of levels, and they’re all very powerful.
“It Seemed the Better Way” — Leonard Cohen
The timing of his passing was uncanny. It certainly got darker, way darker. But he left us with a lifetime of just the most thoughtful art. We’ve got a lot of work to do and we’ve got his words and music to aspire to. Thank you Leonard Cohen.
Artist:Daniel Daniel Hometown: Washington, DC Latest Album:The Lonesome Hollow Personal Nickname: Chef Dan
Which artist has influenced you the most … and how?
It is hard to pinpoint one artist. There have been so many that have impacted and inspired me along the way. The ones that truly dig down and touch my soul seem to evoke beauty, angst, and heartache with their writing — people like Townes Van Zandt, Son House, Little Walter, Simon and Garfunkel, Hans Zimmer, Jeff Buckley, Washington Phillips.
If you could spend 10 minutes with John Lennon, Dolly Parton, Hank Williams, Joni Mitchell, Sister Rosetta, or Merle Haggard how would it go?
I’d love to sit down with John Lennon, open a good bottle of wine, ask him a hundred questions on his songwriting, and then proceed to write one together.
What’s the toughest time you ever had writing a song?
I don’t have a distinct memory of one song, in particular, that was harder to pen than others. When I do encounter those songs that are stubborn, I have learned to lay them aside. If they are meant to be, they will come back around, when they actually want to work with you.
Since food and music go so well together, what would be your dream pairing of a meal and a musician?
Miles Davis was known to be a pretty solid chef and, since I enjoy cooking myself, I think we would have a grand ol’ time.
How often do you hide behind a character in a song or use “you” when it’s actually “me”?
Way back 50 years ago, in 1967, the music was the stuff of legend — full of artists, songs, and culture that begat the Summer Of Love. So many great bands/artists were burgeoning under the surface: Pink Floyd, Joni Mitchell, Rolling Stones, the Who, Janis Joplin/Big Brother and the Holding Company. Tina Turner was preparing to blow away Ike, and Carole King was readying to become her own artist. The Byrds, the Hollies, and Buffalo Springfield birthed CSN(Y), and audiences booed Dylan at Newport Folk Festival for going electric.
It was a time of great social change, a new generation declaring itself in resistance to the Vietnam War and their parents’ conservatism; a time of refuting politics, haircuts, normalcy; a time of experimentation with mind-altering substances, and a quest for peace and love. The late ’60s were a cauldron of cultures and consciousness, and it made for tremendous music.
Let us stand back and appreciate 1967. Let us hope for our cultural renaissance in 2017, in our equally turbulent times. If ever we need a music revolution again, it is now. As Picasso said, “Artists are the politicians of the future.” — Paula Cole (also a product of 1967)
The Beatles — Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band
The Beatles were sick and tired of being the Beatles, so they became Sgt. Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band, creating the first concept album with no singles. Free from touring, they began to live their unique personal lives, then went to the studio to record their masterwork. Psychedelia, innovation in writing/recording, the 1967 London art scene, Yoko, transcendental meditation, brilliance, and irreverence … they made the alter-ego masterwork whose influence is incalculable.
Aretha Franklin — I Never Loved a Man (The Way I Love You)
Newly signed to Atlantic Records, recording with the Muscle Shoals, Alabama, rhythm section featuring Ms. Franklin on gospel rock piano, Aretha stormed the charts and changed music, hearts, and minds forever with fireworks such as “Respect,” “Think,” “Baby, I Love You,” and “You Make Me Feel (Like A Natural Woman).”
Bobbie Gentry — Ode to Billie Joe
My sister from another generation, an introvert, Best New Artist Grammy winner Bobbie Gentry left the patriarchal music business, leaving us with this amazing story. She sang and played her guitar and, importantly, self-produced in a time when women didn’t do that. Her timeless song leaves us wondering what ever happened to Billie Joe, over the course of a Southern American family supper.
Jimi Hendrix — Are You Experienced?
One of the greatest debuts in music history, Jimi marked the sonic marriage of psychedelic UK rock with American blues and R&B.
Dolly Parton — Hello, I’m Dolly
Dolly’s first full-length album introduced her to the world, with two country hit singles — “Dumb Blonde” and “Something Fishy.”
Miles Davis — Live in Europe: 1967
The album celebrated one of the greatest quartets in musical history behind Miles: Herbie Hancock, Wayne Shorter, Ron Carter, an Tony Williams.
James Brown — “Cold Sweat”
This was possibly the first funk single — with drums breaks, single chord jams, and funky instrumental arrangements.
Otis Redding — “(Sittin’ on) The Dock of the Bay”
He recorded this in December 1967 and died four days later, never knowing the tremendous success achieved on both the R&B and pop charts. It is said that he wrote this song, influenced by listening to Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band.
Nina Simone — High Priestess of Soul, Nina Simone Sings the Blues, and Silk & Soul
Enough said! Incredible!
Sly and the Family Stone — A Whole New Thing
Sly and company made their debut with this one, which was lauded by Tony Bennett and Mose Allison, despite no commercial success.
Jefferson Airplane — Surrealistic Pillow
Jefferson Airplane had breakthrough hits with “Somebody to Love” and “White Rabbit,” pioneering the psychedelic era of rock.
Other notable musical moments of 1967:
Grateful Dead — The Grateful Dead Loretta Lynn — Don’t Come Home A-Drinkin (With Lovin’ on Your Mind) The Doors — The Doors Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell — “Aint No Mountain High Enough” (off United) Cream — Disraeli Gears Simon & Garfunkel — “Mrs. Robinson” (from The Graduate) Leonard Cohen — Songs of Leonard Cohen Glen Campbell — Gentle on My Mind Bob Dylan — “All Along the Watchtower” (off John Wesley Harding)
Mustard. But have learned to appreciate mayo. Fat baby!
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