‘Imaginary Man’

This year has brought us some intriguing records that fuse the worlds of pop and Americana. Created largely by women — Hannah Miller, Jesse Baylin, and Kasey Chambers, to name three — their soldering of styles both modernist and traditional have had a thought-provoking effect our ears and redefined what we mean when we discuss “American music.”

The first boy to be welcomed to the club, Rayland Baxter disrupts the chromosome balance of the equation with his new collection of tunes that integrate smartly consistent lyrics with self-effacing melodies and subtly simple arrangements. The opening cut, “Mr. Rodriquez,” is a treat — a beautiful narrative of those who live like kings in their minds (and under the freeways in their lives). Baxter blends a deceptively simple pop structure (complete with lyrical “la-di-das”) with an aching story of childhood on “Mother Mother.”

Baxter’s music feels a bit more folkie on the easy ballad “Yellow Eyes” and the acoustic showpiece “Rugged Lovers,” the former sounding a bit like Harry Nilsson and the latter more in the vein of Leonard Cohen. Elsewhere, the screaming electronics that open “Freakin Me Out” pave the way for a fervent ballad that would make John Lennon proud, while the gentle piano and pedal steel of “Your Love” make for a truly amazing listen.

Seldom does the term “Beatlesque” come into play here at the BGS, but the pure pop essence of the Fab Four’s shimmering orchestrations and melodic genius shows its face here, beautifully wrapped in the spirit of Bradley’s Barn and generously imbued with the simple heart of a country boy. A spectacular listen.

In Memoriam: 2016

Every year there are great voices that leave us, but 2016 has particularly riddled with loss — especially for music fans. From the January death of David Bowie to the devastating departure of Prince to the Christmas Day news about George Michael, this was a year that didn’t let up. On the lesser-known end of the spectrum, we lost too many to mention, including Holly Dunn, Joey Feek, Long John Hunter, Steve Young, Georgette Twain Seiff, Billy Paul, Candye Kane, Red Simpson, Ruby Wilson, James King, Hoot Hester, Padraig Duggan, Fred Hellerman, and so many more.

Here, we honor some of those roots music legends who left us this year — and cherish the legacies they left behind.

Glenn Frey (November 6, 1948 – January 18, 2016)

A brilliant musician (and a generally well-liked guy, to boot), Glenn Frey wrote the soundtrack to countless windows-down road trips. Born in Detroit, Michigan, in 1968, the founding member of the Eagles played in multiple bands around the city (including a guitar cameo on an early Bob Seger track) before hightailing it to California, where he would really find his footing as a songwriter in the late 1960s. From penning the ubiquitous “Take It Easy” with Jackson Browne to collaborating with Don Henley on hits like “Lyin’ Eyes” and “Heartache Tonight,” Frey was a lynchpin in the harmony-heavy group throughout their prime in the ‘70s and had a formidable solo career during the band’s hiatus, too. Not many bands forge a strong enough bond with their listeners to completely disband for 14 years only to make a seamless comeback, but what Frey built with the Eagles managed to transcend time and genre. Frey amassed a catalog that will only continue to inspire — from impassioned tribute performances of his records to originals authored by a generation raised on them.

Merle Haggard (April 6, 1937 – April 6, 2017)

Merle Haggard was a musician who lived for the road. “It’s what keeps me alive and it’s what fucks up my life,” he told comrade Sturgill Simpson in a prescient feature published shortly before his death. But the songwriter, guitarist, fiddler, and country music pioneer left behind a lot more than his rip-roaring live performances when he passed away on his birthday earlier this year. Haggard wrote his songs about hard living and hard times, and they weren’t wholly imagined scenarios: The California native spent time behind bars in the late ‘50s, inspiring some of his most popular songs like “Mama Tried,” “Hungry Eyes,” and “Branded Man.” Haggard popularized what became known as the Bakersfield Sound — a less polished twang than the country music that generally came out of Nashville, and a sound that combined electric, rock 'n' roll elements with honky-tonk sensibilities. His rebellion against the overly polished pushed beyond the studio, too, and Haggard won many fans for his frank representation of working class Americans on matters that spanned from the Vietnam War to old-fashioned values. Haggard came up playing dive bars and fighting his way to listeners and, as the divide between pop-country and traditional country sounds grows more prominent, Haggard and his legacy are more important than ever.

Guy Clark (November 6, 1941 – May 17, 2016)

A songwriter’s songwriter, Guy Clark wasn’t just a legend; he was the storyteller that inspired an era’s worth of legends. Born in Monahans, Texas, Clark was integral in shaping Nashville’s outlaw country culture. Beyond his own illustrious career, though, Clark wrote songs for some of the genre’s top-selling and most-beloved artists over the decades, ranging from Johnny Cash, John Denver, and David Allan Coe to Vince Gill, Brad Paisley, and Kenny Chesney. And once he reached the upper echelon of Nashville’s songwriting community, he was notorious for lending a hand to the city’s next big voices, including Gillian Welch and Ashley Monroe. Fans of country music are inextricably fans of Guy Clark, whether they’re aware of his vast influence or not and, while his wit, talent, and presence will be sorely missed, his effect on the artists he left behind will soar for decades to come.

Ralph Stanley (February 25, 1927 – June 23, 2016)

For many bluegrass listeners, Ralph Stanley’s distinctive vocals and deft banjo picking epitomized the genre. He got his start performing with his brother Carter, first as the Clinch Mountain Boys and then finding fame (and a record deal) as the Stanley Brothers. Regular radio spots gave way to studio recordings and the duo performed together for almost two decades before Carter passed away in 1966. Ralph struggled with the decision to continue performing as a solo artist, reviving their old Clinch Mountain Boys moniker for his rotating collaborations. Stanley recorded with the likes of Ricky Skaggs, Curly Ray Cline, Larry Sparks, and Keith Whitley, but his career reached new heights at the turn of the millennium when he was featured on the blockbuster soundtrack for O’ Brother, Where Art Thou? This jolt in the picking pioneer’s career exposed his work to a new generation of budding bluegrass fans, ensuring that the traditions he helped to craft would remain intact through the ages.

Jean Shepard (November 21, 1933 – September 25, 2016)

To be sure, country music has a lot of pioneers, each one blazing a path followed by generation after generation, and Ollie Imogene "Jean" Shepard must surely be counted among them. A honky-tonk singer and country traditionalist who came up in the 1950s, Shepard released 73 singles and recorded 24 albums between 1956 and 1981, becoming a member of the Grand Ole Opry in 1955 and an inductee into the Country Music Hall of Fame in 2011. Shepard's first number one country hit, "A Dear John Letter," was a duet with Ferlin Husky in 1953. Not only did it also climb to number four on the Billboard pop chart, the song was the first record by a female country artist to sell more than a million copies after World War II. When Shepard joined the Opry, the only two other women on the roster were Minnie Pearl and Kitty Wells. Some 60 years later, there are more than 30 and, at the time of her death from Parkinson's disease, Shepard was the Opry's longest-running living member.

Leonard Cohen (September 21, 1934 – November 7, 2016)

Leonard Cohen was first and foremost a poet — one as deserving a Nobel Prize as that awarded to his colleague Bob Dylan earlier this year. Born in Quebec in 1934, Cohen earned his chops as a writer and novelist before launching his musical career in 1967. Over a 48-year tenure, he released 14 studio albums, tackling topics such as death, relationships, religion, and politics, and culminating in his final 2016 release, You Want It Darker. "Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash," he told us.  Thank goodness for that beautiful pile of ash he left behind.

Leon Russell (April 2, 1942 – November 13, 2016)

The word prolific gets thrown around too freely with songwriters, but with Leon Russell it's a truly appropriate descriptor. Thirty-three albums, 400-plus songs, countless collaborations, and a healthy body of production and session work over the course of his 60-year career made Russell into a pillar of American music, one who could easily hold his own with his collaborators, like George Harrison, Ike and Tina Turner, and longtime friend Elton John. If there is a single song of Russell's many that stands out as one of the greatest of the American songbook (and it's hard to choose just one), it's "A Song for You," the soulful, vulnerable lover's lament that opened his 1970 solo debut album, Leon Russell. Over 100 artists — as varied as Whitney Houston, Zakk Wylde, and Willie Nelson — would go on to cover that track. The most-beloved cover, of course, is Donny Hathaway's, recorded for his own sophomore album just one year later, quickly becoming a classic itself. The legacy of "A Song for You" is something of a microcosm of Russell's own legacy which has touched artists of all genres, all ages, all walks of life. On the surface, it's a quiet legacy — Russell isn't, after all, a household name on the level of John or Harrison. But it's a legacy that cuts through such chatter on the strength of its powerful songs — songs that, to borrow a phrase from the man himself, listen like they were written just for you. 

Sharon Jones (May 4, 1956 – November 18, 2016)

Sharon Jones’s powerful vocals, on-stage vigor, and charming warmth felt boundless — the kind of energy that would never give out. Jones was born in Augusta, Georgia, and grew up in Brooklyn, New York, and, while music was always a force in her life, her breakout success didn’t come early — she released her first full-length record at age 40. With Sharon Jones & the Dap-Kings, she released five full-length albums before the group’s sixth, Give the People What They Want, was nominated for a Grammy in 2014. Largely credited for the still-kicking revival of soul music, Jones was just as much a powerhouse off the stage. In 2013, she was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, delaying the release of Give the People What They Want as she underwent chemotherapy. Upon her triumphant return to live performances, she didn’t bother with wigs — that would get in the way of her dancing, of course — and dove right in with the same kind of energy and charisma that has always distinguished the Dap-Kings. They toured, recorded, and released a Christmas album, and brought fans into their world with a documentary. Through every obstacle — including the recurrence of the disease that would ultimately lead to her death — Jones exuded a grace and excitement that will live forever in her legacy.


Lede photo credit: victorcamilo via Foter.com / CC BY-ND.

Squared Roots: Jane Siberry in Praise of Leonard Cohen

True songwriting heroes are a rare breed and, in roots music, a few names take up more space than all the others combined — names like Hank Williams, Woody Guthrie, Townes Van Zandt, Dolly Parton, Bob Dylan, Joni Mitchell, and John Prine. For artists on the darker end of the spectrum, from Jeff Buckley to Amanda Shires, Leonard Cohen would also make that list, if not top it, because of how Cohen's incredibly mystical and oddly majestic way with a pen burrowed its way deep into the souls of his listeners. For proof of how the song is often bigger than the singer, look no further than the power and proliferation of "Hallelujah," his best-known composition which has been covered by dozens of singers over the past few decades. Tenderness and thoughtfulness pervade Cohen's work, winding their way around and through his sometimes eccentric, always captivating perspectives.

One of the singer/songwriters who came up in the wake of Cohen is Jane Siberry. A fellow Canadian, Siberry has also blazed her own artistic trail littered with mysticism. Reaching back to songs like "Bound by the Beauty," "Love Is Everything," and "Calling All Angels" all the way through to her latest release, Angels Bend Closer, Siberry never shies away from life's big questions and contemplations. Rather, like Cohen, she pours herself into them, exploring every nook and cranny through song and serving as a docent for those willing to follow.

As folks have reminisced about him since his passing, it seems like almost everyone has a Leonard-related tale to tell … either a personal encounter or a meaningful musical moment. You taught yourself guitar with his songs, right?

Yes. When I was 16, I moved away from home. I had played piano up til then. So I bought a cheap guitar and started learning from my sister's guitar songbooks. She had Leonard Cohen's, which had a very clear tablature. It even showed the rhythm of the finger-picking, which was fantastic and easy, so I learned to play his songs. The only songs I learned were from Songs of Leonard Cohen — “Sisters of Mercy” and “Suzanne” and all of those.

Did you have any interactions with him as you were coming up in music?

No, I didn't really. I just always really respected him, when I'd hear him speak in public. I think we met once or twice.

What do you think it was that made him not just so great, but also so special?

What's the difference?

Well, I think there are great artists, but there are also ones who are really special in terms of who they are and how they affect people. To me, it seems like many of the ones we've lost this year — David Bowie, Prince, Sharon Jones, and Leonard Cohen — they were all both great and special. And I think their passings have hit people especially hard. Does that make sense?

Yeah. I think it's pretty simple. It's not just about being great. We love them. We love ourselves through them.

In addition to both being Canadian, you are both more than just musicians. Authors, poets, performance artists … was he a bit of a role model for you?

I've never liked the term “performance artist,” but “entertainer” …

Got it.

A role model, as a musician, yes. I really thought he was underrated as a musician. I found his chord changes really beautiful and his phrasing beautiful. I think there's a similarity in what we draw from in the musical atmosphere, in that some people say he used a lot of “church chord changes.” That really isn't what it is. It's that there's a completion at the end of the song or at the end of choruses, like Irish folk songs. Like “The Water's Wide,” I think a lot of people would call it “churchy” in the way that the chorus lifts and the way you're allowed to draw out the end like a soft touch on a cheek when you say goodbye to someone.

There's also the similarity in that you both explore deeper emotional and spiritual themes in your songs. Neither of you are afraid of those. So, even a simple-sounding song isn't necessarily simple-minded. It feels like, to me, with both of you, that music is always sacred or has the potential to be. Is that maybe part of that church-sounding potential?

Most of the world, other than the First World, uses music as a way to pray. I think it's natural and organic. Drawn up from our primal selves. I consider music as one of the few ways to connect in a way that's meaningful to so many people. If it works on a lot of levels, it's generous and people can draw more from it — as much or as little as they want because it works on a lot of levels. To me, a good song should sound good, even if you don't know what it's about. It should feel good, whether it's the chording or the rhythm that you tap your fingers to. But, if you look deeper, it's also … I guess I'm saying that a song can be as rich as life is or humans are, if you want it to be. That's multi-purpose, so I guess that's why I said “generous,” if you're offering something in that way. I also consider humor as sacred. Those are the only two places where I go slightly bonkers. Humor and music are sacred to me.

Thinking of those layers of what a song can do … “Hallelujah” feels a perfect song. And not just due to its technical structure or melodic beauty, but also because it can be interpreted so differently depending on who is singing and who is listening.

Yeah. The first time I heard it, I loved that he was describing what he was doing musically — “the fourth, the fifth.” I thought, “Oh, yeah, that's how they do that. Amazing!” [Laughs] Then I started listening to the words … I remember being in Belfast and the opening guest was a choir from Belfast and they sang “Hallelujah.” They all had smiles on their faces. After I said, and I didn't mean to make people feel embarrassed, but I said, “That's the best version I've heard of a song about erotic requests and orgasm and its manifestation.” Because it is about that. And it's like, “WOW. You sing 'hallelujah' and it becomes” … [Laughs] He must have had a good laugh about that, too. Maybe people in the choir knew that and were having their own laugh about it, too. But it's very funny, I think, to hear a choir sing it with a smile on their face. [Laughs]

[Laughs] It was interesting to read up on the song. Different people who've done it have different interpretations of what it means to them. Jeff Buckley agrees with you, but k.d. lang has a slightly different take. But, I mean, he wrote more than 80 verses for the damn thing.

Did he?!

Yeah! Different people have picked different verses to sing and I think maybe the Jeff Buckley version has become a bit of a standard model.

That makes so much sense. I think that's the real way to operate as a musician. You offer different verses to different people and they make it their own. I think that's great. People get so precious about the right words. That's so cool.

I feel like your “Calling All Angels” is also a perfect song.

Someone took the publishing rights to “Suzanne,” so he never got money from it. But, later, his understanding was that that wasn't the kind of song he should ever benefit from monetarily. I see “Calling All Angels” the same way. But, every now and then, when it's in a film, I benefit from it, which I really like. [Laughs] But everything I make goes into more music.

I do feel like there's a constellation of musicians wherein our stars are a bit closer. And I feel that about me and Leonard Cohen and the people who influenced me when I was young, like Joni Mitchell and Neil Young — people I really trusted when they spoke to my 15-year-old ears. I trusted them. There was a connection.

I do connect with Leonard Cohen in that way. I know he talks about how everyone's “in service.” The first temptation is sort of getting the word “service” clear. It's not, “I'm gonna go out and fix the world.” It's more like, “I think I need to clean up my own backyard before I ever use the word 'service.'” I feel so lucky in my life. I always feel rich and that I need to give back. I want to spread the wealth, so to speak.


Jane Siberry photo by Sophia Canales. Leonard Cohen photo courtesy of the artist.

3×3: Freakwater on Tacos, Time Travel, and Actively Hating School Well into Adulthood

Artist: Catherine Ann Irwin and Janet Beveridge Bean (of Freakwater
Hometown: Louisville, KY; Chicago, IL; Asheville, NC 
Latest Album: Scheherazade 
Rejected Band Names: The Heart of Darkness, Dr. Peanut, My Little Cauliflower …


If you had to live the life of a character in a song, which song would you choose? 
C: "Pretty Boy Floyd"
J: "Jack and Diane"

Where would you most like to live or visit that you haven't yet? 
C: Iceland
J: With Leonard Cohen circa 1972 in his Greek Isle home

What was the last thing that made you really mad? 
C: Ignorant white people.
J: Willfully ignorant white people


What's the best concert you've ever attended? 

C: KISS when I was 12. Fucking awesome!
J: Prince on the Dirty Mind tour.

What was your favorite grade in school? 
C: I hate school.
J: I like that Catherine still actively hates school. I was also a hater of school and suffered massive bouts of nausea every morning just from the dread of it, but there were moments of peace in the third grade. My third grade classroom was in Central Florida and it had no AC, but it did have a small toilet closet attached to the room. I would go in the toilet closet, lie on the ground, and spoon the cool porcelain bowl. It was like a thunder jacket, for I would sometimes crane my neck in a way where I could read the logo on the back of bowl. Stansbury was printed in blue with a fancy cursive font. This was also the name of my teacher. The connection between the toilet and my teacher offered long moments of imagining my teacher as a toilet mogul.

What are you reading right now? 
C: Greil Marcus — Three Songs, Three Singers, Three Nations. Janet gave it to me for Christmas.
J: I am spliting my nights between the latest Jonathan Franzen book, Purity, and a fascinating book by Tamim Ansary named Destiny Disrupted: A History of the World Through Islamic Eyes. It should be required reading. 

Whiskey, water, or wine? 
C: What time is it? 
J: Last night it was whiskey, wine, then water.

North or South? 
C: For food or politics?
J: Catherine asks a much needed clarifier. 

Pizza or tacos? 
C: Tacos
J: That's a tough call. I may have to say pizza only because I think it's more forgiving as far as preparation. I can eat bad pizza and still find enjoyment. A bad taco, not so much so.

LISTEN: Stone Cupid with Julie Christensen, ‘The Cardinal’

Artist: Stone Cupid with Julie Christensen
Hometown: Nashville, TN
Song: "The Cardinal"
Album: The Cardinal
Release Date: January 22

In Their Words: "The song 'The Cardinal' started as a folky ode to the bird, but went south into the murder ballad territory when I started rifling through my past. My association with the Cardinal mascot of my youth, dead friends communicating via birds, and betrayals all tumbled in. When you write songs, you need to lie your face off to get to the truth sometimes. My band rocked it into an even darker place and we just went for it." — Julie Christensen


Photo courtesy of the artist