Tag: LGBT

Andrew Sa Knows His Debut Album Is Yours, Too

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Andrew Sa’s musical career can be traced by a series of loops. The California-born, Chicago-based singer-songwriter first fell in love with music as a small child, listening to classic rock and country stations with his father, a retired touring musician. A few years later, he’d transition from listener to performer at his mother’s karaoke bar, where he’d charm crowds with Patsy Cline covers.

His broadening musical interests would lead him away from country in his teenage years, something he also attributes to feeling out of place as a queer person in an outwardly conservative, queer-unfriendly genre. The musical community he encountered in Chicago, where he landed after a stint studying theater in college, challenged the notion that there was no place for Sa in country. Immersing himself in that community led Sa to meet another musician who would be pivotal in his life: singer-songwriter Patrick Haggerty, who performed as Lavender Country until his death in 2022.

Sa tells Good Country that it was Haggerty, in particular, who offered him a sense of permission to make country that encompassed both his queerness and his love of the genre. And that permission emboldened and inspired Sa, who released his debut full-length album, American Rough, via Bloodshot Records on June 26.

American Rough takes the hallmarks of great country – intimate storytelling, colorful characters, a reverence for the emotive possibilities of the voice – and makes it Sa’s own, thanks, in part, to producer H.C. McEntire, who imbued Sa’s songs with a timeless quality utilizing unfussy arrangements with subtly countrypolitan flourishes.

Below, Good Country catches up with Sa to chat about signing to Bloodshot, losing Patrick Haggerty, and finally releasing a long-awaited debut album.

You made a big announcement in March, sharing that you’d signed a record deal with Bloodshot Records. How did that come about, and what does it mean to you to be on the roster of such a storied label?

Andrew Sa: I had heard records from Bloodshot Records, like the Justin Townes Earle records and Neko Case records and the Sarah Shook & the Disarmers records, but I didn’t know about Bloodshot as a label until I met a good friend named Kelly Hogan. Kelly has been on Bloodshot and she’s a part of a couple of other Chicago bands, but she’s a dear friend. She’s currently backup singing for Mavis Staples on tour, but she’s like a Chicago/Atlanta legend locally. She sang backup for Neko for many years and sang on a bunch of her records.

When I met Kelly – gosh, maybe 2018, 2019 – she was the one who had started talking up Bloodshot Records to me. But it wasn’t until we began shopping the record for a little while that Bloodshot approached us. Bloodshot, over the last decade, they have been going through it, and so they have what we would call the “new” Bloodshot. They’re owned by an umbrella company called Exceleration that also owns Kill Rock Stars, Yep Roc, and a bunch of other independent labels.

We were chatting with the folks at New West, and that didn’t go where we wanted it to go, but one of the guys from New West – he was very supportive of the record – he said, “I’m going to send this over to my buddy Howard at Bloodshot.” So, it’s funny how it went around to come back to Bloodshot, because Bloodshot is in Chicago. And then it was just kismet, honestly. Once we started talking with Howard, it just seemed right on the money. Alt-country – let’s do it, you know?

It sounds like American Rough was many years in the making, and that some of these songs are older than others. Was there a moment when you realized you might have a record on your hands, or when everything clicked into place?

Other than two songs – one of the singles, “Under You,” which was written for me by my friend Liam Cazar and then the song “Gorgeous Things” – other than those two songs, all of the other songs were written for the record. I’ve been dreaming of having a debut record for a decade now, and maybe more, but when I was a beginning songwriter back in 2011/2012 I would write song after song and, between the two of us, none of them were very good. But I would compile the list and I would say, “This is going to be the record, and I’m going to title it this.”

So, to answer your question, I probably got all of that out of my system before this actual record happened. Most of the songs, as I said, were written during the window of time that we were working on the record, ever since I started chatting with our lead producer and one of my co-writers, H.C. McEntire of Durham, North Carolina. That would have been about 2020 and the record was finished in 2024. Then, we finally hooked up with Bloodshot in 2025. The characters across this album are within the last five, six years of my life, so yes, it is something that spanned quite a long period of time, but the record itself took a long time to make. We really took our time making it, so the songs themselves, while they are new to everyone else, they aren’t necessarily for me.

Yeah, I’m not sure the average music fan realizes how much time artists often spend sitting on their music and waiting on a release date. Given what you just described, what are you feeling in advance of finally getting to drop a proper debut project?

I feel like this is very surreal. For lack of a better expression, at the risk of sounding cliché, it’s certainly my dreams coming true. I’ve been so excited to get these songs in the ears of people, and especially these recordings. I had such a deep, fulfilling experience making all of this with my co-producers and all of the players on the record, and I’m just so excited to share it.

My excitement grows with every single that I’m releasing, because people – at least the people that are in my sphere – are really enjoying it. It’s also unnerving. I do find myself anxious at times, just because you do all of the work and then you put it out there, and then it’s not necessarily mine anymore. It’s everyone else’s, and it’s up to them to love on it or not. I didn’t think that it would take me so long to have a debut record, but I really think that I did it the right way, for me. I’m kind of a late bloomer of sorts and taking my time has always really served me. I hope that that is reflected in the work for other people when they hear it.

To me, there is definitely a positive side to being a late bloomer. You’ve accumulated life experience and wisdom, and I would assume you would also have a stronger, fuller sense of who you are and what you want to make. Does that resonate with you?

Yeah, I grew up as a music lover, and in high school I started doing theater as a way to express myself. I went to college for theater and, while I still was interested in music, all of the skills that I developed as an actor didn’t set me up as the person who writes the story; it set me up as someone who could interpret a story. The reason I bring this up is because it took a lot of time and a lot of work – and, I would say, even failed attempts – to develop my voice as a songwriter and to really figure out what it is that I want to say and how I want to say it.

Then, along with that, I was developing my vocal instrument and understanding what is the true voice that I want to share, as opposed to all the voices that I’ve played throughout my past. A lot of the education that I got in acting and the experience of acting really helps me as a performer. I know that to be true. It’s just taken a long time to develop my voice – both singing and as a songwriter – and my unique voice that wasn’t me playing a character.

A moment ago you mentioned the singles you released ahead of the record, and one of those is “Lavender Cowboy,” a tribute to the late, great Patrick Haggerty. Talk about someone who knew their own voice! I know that Patrick was a mentor to you and it sounds like he was an important figure in your life. I would love to hear about the writing of that song and also what comes to mind when you consider his legacy, both as an artist but also as someone who was important to you personally.

Are you familiar with his music? Did you ever get a chance to see him perform?

I did, and I actually got to interview him once, years ago. It’s one of the true highlights of the work I’ve been able to do over the years. It really meant a lot to me.

Then you know just how kind and present he was. Patrick has a vast, loud legacy of his activism, which was always so inspiring to me. However, Patrick and I seemed to connect over tenderness, for lack of a better word. Humbly, I’ll say one of the things I consider to be one of my superpowers is my ability to be tender, to convey tenderness, to encourage tenderness, especially at a time like now in the world. That was something that we certainly aligned on.

I didn’t have many supportive male figures in my life growing up, especially when it comes to my queerness and uniqueness in that way – and thus my voice, my perspective. Patrick would often say, “I am your stepping stone to lift you up.” He was always affirming me. I didn’t realize just how much I craved that and needed that from, especially, someone like him, of his age and his experience in life. We don’t have a lot of our gay elders because of a lot of things, but specifically the AIDS epidemic. I often felt very lucky that we still had Patrick for as long as we did, considering he was such a slut back in the day. [Laughs] Country music was hugely important to me until I was a teenager and then it was no longer necessarily cool to me, and I went in search of other things and found a lot of inspiration in many other genres and artists. But when I met Patrick – I was asked to open for him – witnessing him and his stage show gave me permission to return to country music.

“Lavender Cowboy” was the last song written for the record. I knew I wanted to write a song to remember Patrick. I imagine that the reason that I like writing elegies is because of my affinity in my teen years for Rufus Wainwright, because he does that so well. I’ve written a few now. I wrote a song called “Dark Phoenix” about my first boyfriend, my high school sweetheart, who’s no longer with us. I wrote a song, even, about the fictional character Jack Twist from Brokeback Mountain.

In any case, the idea is to keep these characters, these people, alive after they’re dead or gone. Every time I sing “Lavender Cowboy,” I’m able to talk about Patrick. He is alive and with us in the room, if only for that three-and-a-half minutes. I knew I wanted to write a song to keep his memory alive. I also knew that I wanted to write something that wasn’t just sad. I wanted to write something that people could hear and feel pride. I wanted them to feel lifted, and I think that H.C. and I accomplished that.

Just to be nerdy, I write a lot in 3/4 or 6/8, so I really wanted to write an up-tempo song in 4/4. I went to his celebration of life, which was out in Bremerton, Washington, and I brought my tenor guitar out there, because I was gonna have some downtime in my hotel. I wrote the first verse out there and then I wrote the pre-choruses back in Chicago at the Old Town School of Folk Music, then [H.C.] and I wrote the chorus together, right before the day before we were going to record it.

You shared how Patrick was able to show you that there is a place for you in country music, and I know you’ve had a lot of involvement with the Cosmic Country Showcase and the country scene in Chicago. How does that community factor into where you are now, on the cusp of releasing your record?

I am forever grateful to the Chicago music community, both the fans of Chicago local music but also very much so the players in the community. I don’t know what the cultures are like in other cities, but Chicago is such a supportive place. Even though we are always going to be competing for certain opportunities, we’re not competitive with each other.

I do need to mention that I got my start in Chicago by making my start, and it’s something that I would encourage more people to do if they can find the opportunities to do so. My friend Dylan Matracia – he lives in New York now and goes by Matracia – we met working in a restaurant in Boystown, Chicago, and we both wanted to break into the music community. We were both young songwriters, baby songwriters, so we decided to start our own queer music acoustic night in Boystown at a bar where we knew the owner. That ran for two-and-a-half-years, and it was called Second Date with Dylan and Andrew. The reason I bring that up is because it really gave me the confidence to go out and try to get other opportunities, and it also gave me a platform that people could come and witness me at my earliest stages. It’s really hard to imagine how you get your first step into anything … especially as a queer folk artist.

When I started doing the Cosmic Country Showcase, that was the same year that I first opened for Patrick, and my return to country music was the year that Cosmic Country started. I remember asking Sully Davis – who’s one of the organizers of that event and currently my manager – he was the one who was booking the Hideout at the time, who booked me to open for Patrick Haggerty. I’m actually forever grateful to Sully for so many things. I said, “Hey, I know you’re doing the Cosmic Country Showcase. I’d love to sing like a Reba song or a Wynonna song or something.” Within a couple of years, now I’m the host, or one of the hosts. I was really searching for a queer audience for so long, and it wasn’t until the Cosmic Country Showcase that I realized that my audience was broader than that. I’m so grateful to that community who comes out to Cosmic Country for giving me that, showing me that.

Speaking of engaging the live music community, you have a string of shows planned for this summer, like the release day show at Union Pool in Brooklyn and then a late June show at the Hideout in Chicago, which you just mentioned. What do you most look forward to as you anticipate these performances?

It’s likely obvious that, since I’m sharing these songs, I’m very proud of them, so that’s one of the reasons I’m really excited to play them. I think that they concisely capture who I am, and hopefully they are open enough for folks to see themselves in them and make them their own as well. That’s what I love to do with music. I’m very excited to play places that I’ve never played before, because the few short tours that I’ve been on, just the sheer experience of meeting new people in new places – and seeing that what I do works there, too – is one of the most fulfilling, life-affirming feelings.

I’m very excited to play New York, specifically, because I’ve always had a love for New York, but also a fear of New York. And I dreamed of having a physical record to sell for so long. I’m very excited about having it in my hands, to give to someone else, of course.

Photo Credit: Alexa Viscius

Out Now: Mary Bragg

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Mary Bragg crafts music with beauty and pain, vulnerability and authenticity, and raw emotions. Mary played Queerfest 2022 at The Basement East in Nashville. Tonight, January 23, 2024, she will be back on stage at The Basement to celebrate her new single, “Only So Much You Can Do.”

In addition to being a phenomenal songwriter and vocalist, Mary is also a producer. In 2022, she earned a Master of Arts in Songwriting and Production from Berklee NYC, elevating her skills to the next level. Her self-titled album centers around self-discovery with tender lyrics that touch on love, loss, and self-esteem. Mary writes compelling music filled with nostalgia and honesty. We’re delighted to feature this incredible artist, Mary Bragg.

What would you say is your current state of mind?

Mary Bragg: Wow, what a way to start the conversation; I love it. My current state of mind is as follows: Grateful – for my life, my love, my work. Steady – managing a wonderfully robust docket of creative work while continuing to establish balance in my everyday life and internal dialogue. Excited – always, about a song. Several actually, new ones, ever percolating.

When I co-write, songs typically arrive at a near-complete form pretty quickly, but when I write alone, I’m much more patient with the process. I move through the world keeping my antennae up, looking for a way back into a lyric I’m working on that gets me in the gut. I’m obsessed with it.

What would a “perfect day” look like for you?

Being a touring musician is a funny thing, because touring life is very, very different than home life. I’ll frame the “perfect day” for you on the road beginning at 2 or 3 p.m., when we load in and have a perfect soundcheck with a killer engineer. Doors at 6. Show at 7. (Did I mention I love early shows?). Merch table mayhem at 9. Cocktail at 10. In bed by 11:30, sleep until 8. Drive, fly, etc. to the next town, repeat.

At home, I’m an early bird. Up by 6:30 or 7, coffee, eggs, journal, write, attempting to avoid technology for a few hours. 11 a.m. workout. Afternoon – back to work – emails galore, phone calls, Zooms, everything. I wear a lot of hats (artist, writer, producer, occasional teacher), so there’s a lot of juggling to do. By 7 p.m. I force myself to stop working; my darling fiancé, by this point has probably created a ridiculously beautiful meal for us. I used to think I was a good cook until I met her. She blows me away every time she prepares a meal for us. It’s the best. And I’m a great dishwasher. Watch a little TV after dinner (okay sometimes during), and hit the sack by 10 p.m., otherwise I turn into a pumpkin on the couch.

Why do you create music? And what’s more satisfying to you, the process or the outcome?

The process is exhilarating – as a writer, the actual singing and playing in a small room, making music and hearing it travel through a space is one of my favorite things. No audience, just the song in a room. Hearing your thoughts as you’re framing them in melodic form is a bit of a head trip that has its own immediate reward. In the studio, there’s a whole other bag of satisfying tricks to uncover and of course performing live has its own rewards as well, mostly connecting with other people who feel what you feel. And, on the road I’m able to focus more on the enjoyment of singing; pushing my voice to try new things on the fly is incredibly fun. Up until that moment of live-show-exhilaration, I’m so focused on the writing and producing, but by the time I take it to the stage, I can really let go and dig back in to the music itself.

Could you tell us about your single that came out today? 

Ah, my new single! “Only So Much You Can Do” is about chasing joy in the company of another person. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about that New York Times article about the secret to happiness – and how relationships are the key to it. We are pack people; we need each other; we need other human beings around us in order to be our best, happiest selves. Friends plus community plus honesty equals joy. I wrote this song with my dear friend, Bill Demain, during the pandemic over Zoom; we craved connection again, waited eagerly for it to return. Now that we’re out from under it, the song is a nice reminder to spend time – actual face time – with your people; it sure does a lot of good.

Who are your favorite LGBTQ+ artists and bands?

Rufus Wainwright, The Indigo Girls, Brandi Carlile, Aaron Lee Tasjan, Jobi Riccio, Liv Greene.

What does it mean to you to be an LGBTQ+ musician?

Well, I’m a person who is a songwriter and artist who is also bisexual living in a world that, at the moment, likes to extend a great to deal of judgment, disdain, disapproval, and harm to people in the LGBTQ+ family. Most of the time I feel as happy as the next person, then I’m reminded of the threats to our community, to my own family, and I remember how important it is to speak my experience, write through my own pain, and sing about the things that break my heart.

I think every human being deserves to tell their story, express their feelings, and be heard. If I can do that – tell my own story of coming out, leaning in to love while experiencing deep, simultaneous loss, then reclaiming joy and autonomy – maybe some additional jolt of kindness, empathy, and love will be injected into the world.

In 2021, you moved from Nashville to New York City to pursue a Master of Arts in Songwriting and Production at Berklee NYC. How did this educational pursuit impact your creative process and the way you approach your work today?

It’s funny – getting a masters degree might suggest you’re taking your work very seriously, going deeper on process and theoretical approaches to your craft. While I did very much feel that way during the program, by the end of it I felt a newfound sense of taking myself less seriously. I wanted to reconnect with a sense of lightness, play, curiosity, remembering that songs are a gift, that humans have so much in common, and we all just need to be acknowledging those commonalities more frequently and willfully. The more I can get to the heart of those feelings, and sharing them, the better.

Also, at the end of my thesis defense, one of my professors said to me, “Remember who you are.” It was such a nice thing to hear, because I do know who I am, what I stand for, and what I want to do with my life. All I have to do when I get distracted, spin out, or lose track of my focus is remember who I am.

Your latest album addresses the universal themes of self-love, acceptance, discovery, loss, beauty, and pain. How did you personally grapple with these concepts during your own transformative journey, especially in the context of your relationships and coming out to your family?

Woof, the grappling was tough, but my gut was clear: I knew who I loved, what that meant for my place in a world that is obsessed with classifications, and how hard it would be for some people that I love deeply to accept.

I was raised in a huge, very conservative Christian family in South Georgia and coming out to them was the hardest thing I’ve ever been through. I love them so much, they love me so much, but many of them feel quite strongly that I’m, you name it, “living in sin,” “going to hell,” “choosing a ‘lifestyle’ that is wrong.” What I know in my bones is that none of that is true. The love I have for my partner and soon-to-be wife is as real and deep as any hetero relationship I’ve ever had or witnessed. Standing firm in that belief while also trying to hold on to relationships in my family that I don’t want to lose is pretty tough, but I’m grateful that my gut speaks very loudly and I have no interest in tamping it down.

Photo Credit: Anna Haas

WATCH: Jaimee Harris Performs “Orange Avenue” for From One to Tenn

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Artist: Jaimee Harris
Hometown: Born in Nacogdoches, Texas; Raised in Hewitt, Texas; Living in Nashville, Tennessee
Song: “Orange Avenue”

In Their Words: “My partner, Mary Gauthier, was given an incredible writing residency in Key West for the entire month of January 2022. We often tour together, so I decided I’d take the time of solitude to search for songs. I started my search in the panhandle of Florida and spent a month driving down to Key West. Every two to three days I traveled to a different town, collected stories, visited fascinating museums, explored the variety of Florida’s natural beauty, and wrote a song in every town I visited.

“I did not plan to stop by Pulse Nightclub, but I found myself there alone at night. The first thing that struck me about Pulse was its location. I imagined it would be located in a nightlife district, but that is not the case. I was surprised to find it standing at the end of Orange Avenue, across from a Dunkin’ Donuts – the only two businesses on a street lined with houses. Pulse was a queer-friendly club, but it was also a neighborhood bar. The entry age was 18, so there were plenty of teenagers who hung out at Pulse simply because it was a friendly place where they could dance without having to be 21 to enter.

“The second thing that struck me was a plaque that listed 48 names of those who were killed on June 12, 2016. The third thing I noticed was a block of text that read, ‘We honor the 49 angel birthdays by placing angel wings next to their name. You are always in our hearts.’ If there were 49 killed, then why were only 48 names listed? I then noticed a plaque that said, ‘Out of respect for the family’s wishes, a victim’s name has been kept private.’

“I was curious about why that was and so I did some research. What I discovered was that the family of one male victim did not know he was gay until he was murdered at Pulse. The man’s family did not want to collect his body. This is why officials in Orlando felt it was important to emphasize to the world that this, up until that point, the highest casualty mass shooting in America was a hate crime targeting the LGBTQ+ community.

“I tried not to write ‘Orange Avenue.’ I tried to run away from it. But the song kept nagging at me. The original version of this song was sung from my perspective, but I felt it wasn’t quite right. I tried a lot of other narrative perspectives until I landed on the one that made me cry the hardest: the unnamed, unclaimed man.

“I have only played ‘Orange Avenue’ in public three times. In July 2023 at the Woody Guthrie Folk Festival in Okemah, OK, in September 2023 at the Americana Proud showcase hosted by Autumn Nicholas, and for this Pilot Moon Films taping.

“I am so grateful that Pilot Moon Films invited me to participate in this incredible From One, to Tenn. series. Because Pilot Moon Films was so generous with their time and talent, I felt deeply that I should use this gift as an opportunity to share this man’s story.” – Jaimee Harris

(Editor’s Note: Subscribe to the YouTube Channel for From One, to Tenn. for a new exclusive performance video every Wednesday.)

Video Credits: Filmed by David Allison, John DeMaio, and Joel Malizia, Pilot Moon Films / Islander Entertainment
Audio captured – Brett Blandon
Mixed/Mastered – John Kelly
Special thanks to Helene Cronin & Victoria O’Campo

Photo Credit: Video stills courtesy of Pilot Moon Films

Queer Artists Take Over AmericanaFest 2023

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Abundance. If there is one word that comes to mind to describe the presence of LGBTQ+ artists and queer community support at AmericanaFest 2023, that word would be “abundance.”

My first time attending AmericanaFest was in 2021, when one of the only queer events was an inspiring Rainbow Happy Hour showcase presented by Country Queer at Vinyl Tap. We have come incredibly far in the two years since. It feels surreal to witness an abundance of queer artists, showcases and supporters at an Americana music festival and conference. But that magical feeling is rooted in the manifestation and hard work that queer artists and promoters have poured into finding and building our places in Americana music while uplifting LGBTQ+ voices.

This year, we saw many queer events and artists at the Americana Proud showcase, the Americana Honors & Awards, The Equal Access Showcase (presented by CMT, mTheory and Nashville Music Equality), the Queer Cowpoke Roundup, the Good Ol’ Queer Country Jamboree by yours truly, Queerfest and BGS, and many more.

Americana Proud at Nashville City Winery – Tuesday, September 19

On the first night of AmericanaFest, nearly 20 queer-identifying artists graced the stage at Nashville City Winery for two Americana Proud showcases lasting more than three hours. Organized by Autumn Nicholas, a queer artist themselves, it was incredible to take in Americana Proud knowing this was the first of many LGBTQ+ showcases and events to come at this year’s AmericanaFest.

Vidalia Anne Gentry, the dazzling drag queen who hosted the event, opened the show lip-syncing to Dolly Parton’s rendition of “Rocky Top.” Crys Matthews and Heather Mae sang validating, original lyrics, including, “Our love doesn’t have to look like everybody else’s.” Denitia and Julia Cannon warmed the audience with Denitia’s “All the Sweet Tea” and Cannon’s sweet harmonies.

Madeline Finn and Liv Greene wooed the crowd and Jaimee Harris touched our hearts with a song written about the Pulse Nightclub shooting – a mass shooting targeting an LGBTQ+ club in Florida that took place in June of 2016, claiming the lives of 49 individuals. The song, “Orange Avenue,” is written from the perspective of a victim who lost his life in the shooting.

The concert continued with many more outstanding up-and-coming artists, including Ally Free, Jett Holden, Kentucky Gentleman, Lila Blue, Jobi Riccio, Palmyra, ISMAY, Jessye DeSilva, Abby Posner and Madeleine Kelson with her iconic queer anthem “The Way I Do,” which declares, “God has never loved a woman the way I do.”

As a whole, the Americana Proud showcase artists presented touching lyrics, intricate guitar lines, memorable stories and warm, loving energy. It was the perfect way to kick off AmericanaFest 2023!

Brandy Clark and Brandi Carlile by Erika Goldring/Getty Images for Americana Music Association

The 22nd Annual Americana Honors & Awards – Wednesday, September 20

The Americana Honors & Awards show took place on the second night of AmericanaFest at the Ryman Auditorium. (See a full list of winners and honorees here.) There was anything but a lack of LGBTQ+ artists, with performances from Sunny War, Adeem the Artist, S.G. Goodman, Allison Russell, Brandi Carlile, Brandy Clark and Angel Olsen. Jobi Riccio also made an appearance singing harmonies with Emerging Act of the Year nominee William Prince and guitarist Joy Clark performed with Allison Russell’s band, the so-called “Rainbow Coalition.”

When S.G. Goodman took the stage, it felt like time stopped – a fitting feeling, as she performed her song “Space and Time” off of her 2020 album, Old Time Feeling. (The track was also recently cut by Tyler Childers on his latest release, Rustin’ in the Rain.) Goodman stood powerful in a black suit and red cowboy boots, her voice shaking through the Ryman, her lyrics honest, vulnerable and touching.

Goodman subsequently took home the award for Emerging Act of the Year. As she accepted the honor, the audience felt her authenticity, humor and gratitude. “I find myself pretty fortunate to have a lot of folks working beside me as if I’m making a million dollars when I’m not,” she said. “And aside from the million dollars part, I’m pretty fortunate in that, you know.”

Allison Russell earned the The Spirit of Americana / Free Speech in Music Award – and she really did earn it. Russell was instrumental in organizing the Love Rising benefit concert at Bridgestone Arena that took place on March 20, 2023. The show was stacked with many of the music industry’s top LGBTQ+ artists and allies, including Jason Isbell, Maren Morris, Sheryl Crow, Hayley Williams, Hozier, Brittany Howard, Jake Wesley Rogers, Julien Baker, Joy Oladokun, Fancy Hagood, Izzy Heltai, The Highwomen, Yola and more. Proceeds from the event were donated to the Tennessee Equality Project, Inclusion Tennessee, OUTMemphis and The Tennessee Pride Chamber.

Russell was presented her award, fittingly, by the “Tennessee Three,” State Representatives Justin Jones, Gloria Johnson and Justin Pearson, who were infamously expelled from the Tennessee General Assembly earlier this year.

Pearson announced to the Ryman, “Last session, Tennessee Republicans ran through a bill criminalizing certain kinds of healthcare for trans people under the age of 18, other bills criminalizing drag performance when minors are present, but didn’t pass a bill to ban assault weapons.”

“We’re either all equal, or none of us are equal,” Jones followed-up. “Or as we say in Tennessee, ‘Y’all means all.’”

(L-R) Gloria Johnson, Justin Jones and Justin J. Pearson, the “Tennessee Three” by Erika Goldring/Getty Images for Americana Music Association

We in the queer community are coming out of a long period of time when artists were kicked off of labels for coming out, when being in the closet was considered necessary to grow a career as an artist in the music industry (especially in country music spaces), entering a new era when many celebrate, uplift and openly work to build an inclusive industry filled with diverse backgrounds and identities.

As Russell gave her acceptance speech she declared, “We are not divided, we are united.” As a nominee for both Song of the Year and Artist of the Year, she returned to the stage throughout the evening. She was glowing, wearing a sparkly golden gown, rocking out on banjo backed by a band of women, queer folks and artists of color.

Equal Access: Presented By CMT, mtheory and Nashville Music Equality – Thursday, September 21

The Equal Access showcase took place on Thursday at Delgado Guitars and was developed by mtheory, which has a mission to empower artists and managers who come from underrepresented backgrounds within country music. They highlighted Gina Venier and Denitia, who proudly identify as members of the LGBTQ+ community, and Nat Myers and Bella White, as well.

Gina Venier played her iconic song titled “Nora Jane,” sharing her fears about coming out to her family. The song features lyrics like, “What’s my dad gonna do when I bring you home?” and, “I’m afraid everyone I love won’t love me the same. When I tell ’em your name, Nora Jane.” The song does an incredible job at showing the feelings, thought process and fears around coming out.

Good Ol’ Queer Country Jamboree by Queerfest + BGS – Saturday, September 23

Finally, our very own special event, a collaboration between Queerfest, BGS and Soho House Nashville featured Cidny Bullens, Chris Housman, Jett Holden, Amanda Fields & Megan McCormick and Adeem the Artist. To cap off the week of AmericanaFest events and programs, we gathered in the whimsical, exclusive garden at Soho House in Nashville’s Wedgewood Houston neighborhood on a perfect sunny and mild afternoon.

Cidny Bullens opened the show as our special, surprise guest, speaking on his experience as a transgender artist with a decades-long career pre- and post-transition. Chris Housman shared his reality of changing the pronouns in his songs at certain shows where acceptance and inclusivity aren’t a given, emphasizing how important it is to have spaces where artists feel comfortable being openly themselves. He played his viral single “Blueneck” with the well-loved lyric, “I guess I’m a red state blueneck.”

The next artist, Jett Holden, was introduced by Holly G, founder of the Black Opry, a collective building a supportive community for Black artists, fans and industry professionals in roots music. Holden touched on the experience of coming out and while he wasn’t disowned, he noticed queer conversations being shoved aside, and he felt unsure about where he stood with his family. Megan McCormick & Amanda Fields shared an incredible country- and bluegrass-infused set with upright bass supporting their graceful voices and melodic guitar lines intertwining in harmony.

Adeem the Artist was the culmination of our Jamboree, playing many queer-centered songs including “I Never Came Out,” from their 2021 breakout album, Cast Iron Pansexual. They spoke on their experiences encountering hate and queerphobia and transphobia at the festival earlier in the week and the difference between performative acceptance and truly doing the work. As Adeem closed out the event, they shared, “This was a nice vibe after a kinda shitty week,” underlining the importance of creating inclusive, LGBTQ-centered spaces. Soho House was filled with loving, supportive energy and was a perfect way to wrap up the last official day of AmericanaFest 2023.

Additional LGBTQ+ Showcasing Artists

In addition to queer-centered events and showcases, there were many LGBTQ+ artists who showcased, performed, or appeared at special events throughout AmericanaFest 2023, including but not limited to the following:

Aaron Lee Tasjan
Allison Russell
Ally Free
Abby Posner
Adeem the Artist
Amanda Fields
Amythyst Kiah
Austin Lucas
Autumn Nicholas
Brandi Carlile
Brandy Clark
Chris Housman
Cidny Bullens
Crys Matthews
Della Mae
Esther rose
Ever More Nest
Gina Venier
Heather Mae
Ira Wolf
ISMAY
Jaimee Harris
Jett Holden
Jessye DeSilva
Jobi Riccio
Joy Clark
Julie Nolen
Julian Talamantez Brolaski
Lila Blue
Liv Greene
Mary Gauthier
Megan McCormick
Melody Walker
Mercy Bell
Mya Byrne
Paisley Fields
Palmyra
Secret Emchy Society
Shawna Virago
Skout
Sunny War
Wiley Gaby

We’d like to acknowledge that these are merely the artists we encountered who overtly and publicly identify with the LGBTQ+ community and are currently open about their identities. There are surely many more, as yet not visible to us, who were also involved this year that we hope to highlight in the future.

We would also love to acknowledge the Queer Cowpoke Roundup event that took place at The Groove, a queer-owned records store in East Nashville, on Saturday afternoon featuring a lineup of Austin Lucas, Julian Talamantez Brolaski, Julie Nolen, Melody Walker, Mercy Bell, Secret Emchy Society, Shawna Virago and Wiley Gaby. Although there were often unintentional overlaps in queer events on the AmericanaFest schedule, it emphasizes just how abundant LGBTQ+ artists, events, organizations and promoters were at AmericanaFest 2023.

As a whole, it’s exciting to see this volume of phenomenal, openly LGBTQ+ artists showcasing, holding inclusive events and being nominated for and taking home awards. Experiencing the cultivated queer spaces at AmericanaFest was lovely – yes, there were several reports of queerphobia, transphobia, misogyny and hate being directed at and overheard by LGBTQ+ artists throughout the week, too. We’ve come so far, but we’ve still got a long way to go. Even so, we are holding gratitude for the critical mass of queer music and community at AmericanaFest 2023, and we look forward to continuing to develop a more inclusive music industry together.

All Photos: Erika Goldring/Getty Images for Americana Music Association
Lead Image: Allison Russell; S.G. Goodman; Adeem the Artist; all by Erika Goldring

Canadian Songwriter Mariel Buckley Finds Motivation in Being an Outsider

Posted on by Editor

Mariel Buckley considered calling her new record Sad All the Time, named after one of the B-sides of what eventually became Everywhere I Used to Be, out now on Birthday Cake Records. She laughs to think of it now, recalling her realization that it might be off-putting: “No one’s gonna listen to that. Other depressives and that’s it.”

The thing is, Buckley doesn’t need to be so literal when her smoky voice, a bit of gorgeous pedal steel, and plenty of synth so masterfully convey the deep longing and heartache heard on Everywhere I Used to Be. Growing up playing music in the prairies of Calgary and working at a local record shop exposed her to songwriters as beloved as John Prine and Lucinda Williams, and kept her rooted in her own local music community.

“There’s a great community up here,” she says, noting fellow Canadian artists like Kacy and Clayton, banjoist Amy Nelson, Del Barber, and Kathleen Edwards, among others. “It feels small, but still very mighty.”

Buckley’s second album journeys through the bleak scenery of dusty dives, churches with neon crosses, strip malls and supermarket parking lots, cheap motels, and the ever-unforgiving endless highway. She writes with an intense focus on the details, the dirty floors and the coffee cups filled with cigarette butts, always with an underlying sense of nostalgia for the way things were, and always with a solid hook. Envisioned as a true pop country record, Buckley’s stamp on the genre has been years in the making and producer Marcus Paquin was up for the challenge of spinning her somber, introspective tunes into undeniably catchy earworms. Her country roots show themselves in her storytelling (and the occasional waltz), and her rich, husky tone brings levity to the moments of despair she so vividly captures.

Though she is reticent to call the new record an arrival of herself as a fully realized artist, she is coming into her own with Everywhere I Used to Be, showing up unapologetically herself and stepping out of the shadows and into the light.

BGS: This album sounds big, from your vocals to these progressive pop melodies. Was that what you were going for when writing these songs?

Buckley: I started out pretty traditional country, so I don’t know if it’s so much … a vision, as much as these songs really leaned in that direction melodically. And then once we got in the studio and I knew I wanted to make, for lack of a better term, an actually good pop country record — once we started throwing those ideas around, it became a big sonic thing that I don’t think I really anticipated prior because I write everything out with just a guitar and my voice. Pop music is without a doubt the most influential and interesting kind of music and I wanted to do [it] properly and not digitally with the banjo running through 24 effects. I just wanted to honor it a little bit. I love traditional country songwriting, and I think that’s what I write. And then how they come out and how they’re arranged is always really fun, but I do just write Patsy Cline songs over and over. I’m not doing anything new.

What is your relationship to bluegrass music, if any?

Certainly in the east coast part of my family there was lots of Christian kitchen jam bluegrass that happened, and in my years of touring and listening to music, I’m a big Tony Rice fan. I love bluegrass and definitely have a strong appreciation for it. Weirdly I was listening to a ton of it when I was writing just because I find instrumental bluegrass great to help me formulate ideas. So it was there, though not present sonically on the album.

Marcus Paquin is known for working with artists like Arcade Fire and The National. How did working with him come about and how did he help steer the record?

That was an intentional choice. I was just rifling through records he had made and was like, “This would be so cool to make a country record with this guy who probably doesn’t listen to country at all.” We had an easy relationship hookup. He’s such a cool, big-brained music nerd, and he’s got a million ideas at once. His frenetic energy was so great to work with, so energetic and so exciting and inspiring. When we would chase ideas, he was just so positive that it became a lot more of an environment where I wanted to try new stuff as opposed to being kind of curmudgeonly.

There’re a couple songs where I don’t play any guitar which is, for me, a totally weird vibe, I just feel naked. “Whatever Helps You” is a drum machine, a bass pedal steel and like, forty synths. I was really challenged by that because it’s a bizarre feeling to be like, “I’m not in charge of the melody and when it’s going where,” but he definitely had a lot of confidence in me just as a singer to follow that. Another one was “Shooting at the Moon.” I had it pinned maybe 10 BPMs slower than it ended up being and he was like, “Maybe this is a rocker, we could push it!” He was great that way.

Your songs paint these landscapes of dreary, desolate places, but you contrast them with these really pretty, driving melodies. That juxtaposition perfectly captures the complexities of appreciating your roots and where you come from, but also feeling disillusioned by it all.

You totally nailed it. This place I’m from out in the prairies here can be quite conservative and difficult to be a member of if you’re a little bit (or a lot a bit) different. It’s a double-edged sword because I’m so nostalgic for this place … but obviously it’s been really tough. For me—and I’m sure everyone says this—the song thing is like a catharsis. Those melodies and that hope is a very genuine part of the content. I know that I’ve experienced some of that dark shit I’m writing about, but there is a glimmer of hope no matter where you’re from. That’s what I try and look for even when I’m painting the really dark stuff. I try to leave a little bit of hope in there with my voice.

Especially up here where there’s not as many people, it’s pretty spread out, but the amount of times that I’ve wanted to move to Vancouver or Toronto to have a semblance of a community of any kind… If everyone just runs away to Victoria and builds their dream home, there’s a lot fewer of us that are staying for all the kids that are going into school and have to deal with all the same shit we had to deal with several generations after the fact. I think it’s very important to stay rooted in a community that was difficult for you because you can be the person that you needed for someone else.

How did you stay hopeful yourself when you’re revisiting the difficult stuff and the heartbreak?

Getting that out on paper is very empowering, I think. When I feel like I can write more songs like that, or more songs that can speak to people in whatever way that happens to be, that’s the marker for me that keeps me hopeful, is knowing that people are gonna see themselves a little bit in these songs. Over the course of writing [Everywhere I Used to Be], I’ve learned that as much as it is like, diary rock, and I’m certainly self-obsessed, the best part is when someone really connects with that and brings it to you. That gives me so much hope and inspiration to keep writing and keep trying. It’s the whole act of releasing the record. Now it’s not mine anymore, it’s for other people.

You’ve described yourself as feeling like an outsider, and in “Shooting at the Moon” you sing about wanting to be the underdog. What does that mean to you in terms of identity?

It’s really just such an apt description for how I’ve felt my whole life. Growing up in such a conservative part of the world and being such a unique, weird kid that just wanted to shave my head and not go to school, it kind of became a part of me for better and for worse. There are parts of that I’m trying to let go of the older I get because the world is not always against you and trying to keep you down… But there’s also great power and for me, it’s hugely motivating to be second place or to be reaching for a thing because when you’re underrepresented, it’s a huge win to get to those places as somebody that is already at a disadvantage. It is my biggest motivator.

Photo Credit: Sebastian Buzzalino

Garrison Starr’s ‘Girl I Used to Be’ Makes Peace With the Woman She Is Now

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For the last decade, many queer singer-songwriters have doubled down on laconic melancholy, so it’s pleasant to hear Garrison Starr’s new album, Girl I Used to Be, has the ease of Dave Matthews or Sheryl Crow, but Starr is more open about her sexuality on this album than her previous work. At 45, she is older than a cluster of younger generation of performers (some queer, some writing about queerness) who are still working through experiences of gender, sexuality, and religion.

Listening to her new album, one can hear connections to work like Semler’s “Youth Group,” a small, pointed folk song about discovering that you are queer after a youth group lock-in, or Stephanie Lambring’s lacerating attack against homophobia, “Joys of Jesus.” There are also echoes of the joyous call for selfhood in some of Katie Pruitt’s best work. Starr has written with Pruitt, and “The Devil in Me” from Girl I Used to Be was at first intended for her.

“I was sure that would be a song for Katie’s upcoming record,” Starr tells BGS in an email interview. “But she didn’t take to it like I did, and truthfully, I’m happy because I realize how much that song really is a biography of my experience and of my questions as well. I love the curiosity in it and the sense of breaking away from something that doesn’t serve me anymore. I’m not sure where I fit in with Christianity at this point and even if I’m drawn to it, really. The hypocrisy and elitism, at least in the evangelical church, is repulsive to me, and though I think the story of Jesus’ love and redemption is the best thing about any of it, I’m still searching. I believe in a power greater than myself that I choose to call God — that’s all I really know.”

Lyrically there are places where Girl I Used to Be points to the woman she is now, while still drawing on the memories of her childhood in Mississippi, trying to fit in. This merging of past and present give Starr an authority which leads to a commitment to declarative sentences via a voice that is often plainer and clearer than younger queer performers. She is most declarative about issues of sexuality and geography, particularly on her best West Coast songs.

On “Downtown Hollywood,” Starr tells the story of a runaway that gradually shifts from third-person into first-person. She sings about how “they were raising and they were failing” and trying to “cash it all in.” It has a jab against kids with so much privilege that they didn’t need to grow up, and thus, is a grown-up song, almost burnt out, almost jaded about a town Starr still claims to love.

“My only advice to anybody is to find your authenticity, lean into it and never look back,” she says about her adopted hometown. “Los Angeles is a funny place… it’s changed so much and it hasn’t changed at all. The homeless situation here is definitely worse since I came in the late ‘90s. Some of my favorite old haunts aren’t there anymore, but new stuff has popped up in its place. The hustle, the funkiness, the freedom and the hills haven’t changed, and that’s really what made me fall in love with it in the first place.”

Starr grew up in the Deep South, spending some of her undergrad years at Ole Miss, where she was in a sorority. Feeling restricted in that environment, she moved to Los Angeles in the early 1990s. Her major label debut, Eighteen Over Me, was released by Geffen in 1997, and the sudden attention was complex for this queer songwriter. She has mentioned in an interview with Mississippi Today that in her mid-1990s heyday she was told by handlers not to butch it up too much, to avoid the tomboy aesthetic.

Her subsequent career was as an independent touring artist and a successful jobbing musician. She has sung back up for Mary Chapin Carpenter, worked with Josh Joplin, covered the Indigo Girls, and ended up on the soundtrack to multiple television shows, including The Fosters and Grey’s Anatomy. In 2019, her song “Better Day Comin’” was featured in a trailer for the Oscar-nominated Mister Rogers biopic, A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood. In addition, her production credits include Margaret Cho’s Grammy-nominated comedy album, American Tragedy. “Margaret is one of the most generous and down to earth people on the planet. I am grateful to know her and have had the opportunity to work with her,” Starr says.

Girl I Used to Be builds upon all of this complex history, while at the same time, provides a way into the future.

“I’ve spent a lot more time in my studio, working on production and mixing, and I’ve been able to continue to create content,” she says about the past year. “My business hasn’t been dependent on touring, thank god. I realized a while ago that if I want to make a living in this business, I gotta figure out how to diversify. So, I write a lot of songs with a lot of people, and I make sure some of them make it into TV and film so I can afford to be an artist for a living.”

Like many contemporary singer-songwriters, a paradox exists between the authority she shows in her music and the helplessness she felt about the political situation as she was writing the record. She says that the song “Dam That’s Breaking” is a response to the administration of the 45th president. He was, she says, “empowered and embraced by evangelicals, even though they knew it was wrong. It’s definitely about religious hypocrisy as well as greed and power, cowardice, selfishness and everything else that makes you feel like the walls are closing in on you and you are powerless to stop it.”

What Starr has to say about long-won battles, about landscape, and about power, through the lens of knowing, has something to teach younger queer artists, and can be an example for a young artist striving to write with a strong sense of place, delicate emotion, and a talent for observation. For example, her song “Train That’s Bound for Glory” is inspired by a remark by her late grandfather at his birthday party.

“He loved to goof around and he loved to pick on you,” she says. “They were singing him ‘Happy Birthday,’ and he carried on about not being around for his next birthday and that it was ‘probably gonna be my last birthday. … He ended it with, ‘Yep, I can hear the whistle on the train that’s bound for glory, calling me home.’ I knew of the Guthrie song, but I had honestly never heard it until after I wrote my version.”

As a whole, Girl I Used to Be answers the question of who the girl is now: a queer woman attempting to reconcile her history and her present. She embodies a queer desire to reinvent oneself in another space. You can have a career anywhere these days, and stories of the Midwest and the South have become central to new LGBTQIA stories — and so the exile motif in Starr’s work might be another kind of lived-in quality. Her experience shows that finding home does not mean exile.

One such example is “Make Peace With It,” among the album’s most trenchant moments. Starr says, “Well, the lyric is, ‘If I’m ever gonna live this life, I gotta make peace with it.’ I was thinking in that moment about how much I was struggling to hold onto blame for the rejection I experienced in the church, for the way I felt like my career wasn’t working like I wanted it to, and name whatever else I felt victim to for a long time in my life. I finally got to a place, through what I’m calling grace, and I’ll explain that in a second, where I realized I’d rather be happy than be right. (Thank you, Alanon.).”

She concludes, “What I mean by grace is that there have been so many times in my life where I have been accepted, as I am, by people who truly love me, when I’ve been at my absolute worst. That is what I mean when I say grace. Grace is love, no matter what.”

Photo credit: Heather Holty-Newton

WATCH: Katie Pruitt, “Normal”

Posted on by Editor

Artist: Katie Pruitt
Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee
Song: “Normal”
Album: Expectations
Release Date: February 21, 2020
Label: Rounder Records

In Their Words: “‘Normal’ was always a concept I fought against… I hated dresses, played with action figures instead of Barbies, I even cut my hair short. Kids aren’t afraid to be themselves, which is something we lose sight of as adults. We all feel this pressure to conform when the truth is… there is no mold we need to fit, no script we have to read from, and no such thing as ‘normal.'” — Katie Pruitt

Photo credit: Alysse Gafkjen

Indigo Girls Expand “Country Radio” With Black, Brown and Queer Musicians

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Hollywood, the 2020 Netflix series from director-screenwriter Ryan Murphy, is a resplendent show dripping in Art Deco that does not wholly reimagine Los Angeles’ golden era, but rather subtly inserts a quintessential question: “What if?”

What if Hollywood hadn’t been as… ___-ist? (Sexist, racist, misogynist, ageist, etc.) If one happens to be born into a region, a folkway, a culture, an art form that doesn’t include you, or that doesn’t quite love you back, one often doesn’t realize it until it’s too late. And then what? Do we, the rural, country-loving queers, wait around for our Ryan Murphy to reimagine the world to better include us? Not quite.

For Emily Saliers and Amy Ray of Indigo Girls — and, for that matter, almost each and every queer who has ever loved roots music — that “What if?” question is existential, but it also doesn’t matter. What if country music loved LGBTQ+ folks? The lyrics of “Country Radio,” a track off the duo’s sixteenth studio album, Look Long, tell it plainly: “But as far as these songs will take me/ Is as far as I’ll go/ I’m just a gay kid in a small town/ Who loves country radio.”

While curating the following playlist of their favorites from country music airwaves and songs they wish were included there, Saliers and Ray offer a quite simple solution actionable in each present moment: Be who you are, listen to the music that brings you joy, love who you love — and be anti-racist.

Emily Saliers: [I began with the idea:] What are the songs that I listened to that I latched onto, that sort of gave me a feeling of “I can’t get into this song [because of its heteronormativity], but I love this song so much”? One of the first songs that came to mind is “Mama’s Song” by Carrie Underwood. 

I should preface this by saying, I don’t expect that there can’t be heteronormative country songs, or that queer life has to be explicitly represented in songs, it’s not that. It’s the feeling of the way a song moves me emotionally, but then it stops me a little bit short of being able to fully experience it because of the language or the obvious implications of man and woman.

I love Carrie Underwood’s voice and she’s taken more of a harder, pop direction since “Mama’s Song,” but she sings this so beautifully. She’s talking to her mother, “He is good… he treats me like a real man should,” and yet the beauty of her song [is in] her telling her mom that’s she’s going to be okay. 

Amy Ray: For me it’s a little different because I never had the experience of feeling like I wish I could put myself in a song. I think it’s because, gender-wise, I always just related to the male singers. I kinda have that gender dysphoria, you know? [Chuckles] I have these filters that sort of make it my own — probably out of necessity, from growing up loving the Allman Brothers, Pure Prairie League, and Randy Travis so much. [Sings] “Amie, whatcha gonna do?” Pure Prairie League!

It’s very odd — Emily’s perspective on this is something I can understand, and I agree that it’s this weird disconnect with country music. We have to kind of acclimate it to ourselves, in some way, using some kind of trick in our minds. But I’ve always had that internal translator…

ES: Another example is Brett Young’s “In Case You Didn’t Know.” Now this is a song that you can listen to and fit your own queer life into it — as far as I remember it doesn’t have any gender pronouns. Then I watched the video and of course he’s singing to a woman who comes into the audience and he plays to her, alone. It’s a love song to his girlfriend — or wife or partner or whatever — so I could live in that song and think back to relationships and apply it in my own life, but then I watched the video and that door shut a little bit.

AR: I love Angaleena Presley, the Pistol Annies. Presley is such a great writer. “Better Off Red” is one of my favorite songs that she’s written… Honestly, if I hear songs, if I like it, I just put myself in it. I don’t really think about it or worry about it. It’s a survival mechanism from my youth, not that it’s the right thing to do. It’s built inside me.

…I thought you couldn’t be a country singer if you were gay and left-wing and a complete dyke. That made me feel more alienated than the songs themselves, that idea of its inaccessibility. Or, if you went to a show and you were sitting there in that audience, in the early days before it all kind of busted open, you would feel scared. Or judged. Or uncomfortable.

ES: Think about what a splash that song by Little Big Town, “Girl Crush,” had. Just the implication of a lesbian relationship or feelings! That song was a big hit, but it got people talking. [Probably] the majority of the people in this world lean more heteronormative, so they’re representing themselves in these songs. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with that. 

I wouldn’t want to listen to just albums that are for and by queer people, oh my god. No way! But we have to have them as part. I think about what an influence Ferron was, how much Amy and I love Ferron. When her first album came out, it was like, “Oh my gosh this is one of the best songwriters in the country and she’s queer!” I can’t describe how important it was to have an artist like that.

Even Lil Nas X, who had the number one hit forever-ever-ever with Billy Ray Cyrus. It’s awesome to know that he’s queer! And a guy like Young Thug, a rapper out of Atlanta, who’s not gender normative by any stretch, to me. It’s interesting. It’s good to have a mish mosh! It’s not that the majority of songwriters out there can’t be represented in their own songwriting, we just have to have ours, as well.

AR: [We] should add Amythyst Kiah. Amythyst is amazing.

[Racism] is the pivotal struggle of the Americana scene and the roots scene. How do you honor Black and Brown folks who want to be in this scene — and maybe some of them don’t even want to be in this scene because even Americana is rooted in questionable legacy. How much do people of color want to be immersed in that scene when it still feels so racist? Even the best parts of it. It’s a huge question to unwrap and it has to do with such a long history of where country music came from.

We stole the banjo and put it in our hillbilly music in the mountains and called it our own. We forgot all the stuff we learned from “our slaves,” you know? It’s crazy to me, if you think about the racist roots of where a lot of this comes from. Merging this racist legacy with this incredible populist music — music for the people, like Woody Guthrie, like the Carter Family. You get those two things bumping up against each other constantly, how do you entangle that and make this a space where it doesn’t matter what color you are? Where it doesn’t matter what your religious persuasion, or your political party, or your gender, or your sexual preference, or anything.

I think the way we deal with it is by all of us thinking all the time and being mindful of [that racist history]. And including [Black artists] in our playlists and touring with them. Some people are like, “What does it mean if you’re forcing this integration? Is it just going through the motions?” No! No, no, no.

ES: I’ll [echo] the things that Amy said, practically: Tour with Black musicians or Brown musicians or musicians who have not been able to feel that they’re welcome and make everybody welcome. Like Amythyst or Chastity Brown. Those are artists of color who have been discriminated against, who feel other-than in the world of their genres.

I think, first, we all — we white people, we people “of no color,” we “colorless” people — should dig deep, identify our own racism and how far it goes, how much we use it. Break it down, talk about it, identify it in each other. Really start from the core of things and hopefully act outwardly as a result of what we’ve dug through, inwardly. Try to heal and fix, you know? We’ve got to ask artists of color what their experience is like and why it’s like that. I’ve got to assume that there must be some Black artists, who if they hear a song from a white, country, roots singer about the freedom of driving down a dark, country road, they’re not going to feel the same way about the history of Black people down dark country roads. A lot of it is context and, as Amy says, there’s so much to be unraveled. But we are at a tipping point.

AR: Sister Rosetta Tharpe, I feel like there’s a lot of crossover, to me from that and the beginnings of early rock ‘n’ roll. That’s kind of what Elvis Presley was doing and borrowing from. I think about that sometimes, that territory. I like old recordings, like field recordings almost, of all the Alan Lomax type stuff he would collect. Field songs, prison songs. I think a lot of country writers have taken from that stuff, you know? 

I remember an interview with Kathleen Hanna that really resonated with me. She said, when they ask you who your favorite artists are, most of us name all these male artists. That’s who we can think of, because that’s who’s archived the best. Straight men, bands, and writers. If you sit down and really think about who you love and make a list of the women and the queer folks — this is what she was talking about, she wasn’t talking about color at the time or race or the social construct of race — and you take that list to your interviews and rattle off those names, you’ll be more honest, because you’ll be talking about who you really listen to and not just trying to remember [anyone] off the top of your head. 

People are so out of the habit — and so in the habit — of white supremacy that we don’t even know how to do the right things, just in our instincts. We have to learn, write it down, so we remember to do it.

Photo credit: Jeremy Cowart

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.

WATCH: Grace Pettis, “Landon”

Posted on by Editor

Artist: Grace Pettis
Hometown: Mentone, Alabama; current residence is Austin, Texas
Song: “Landon”
Release Date: March 20, 2020
Label: MPress Records

In Their Words: I spent about ten years writing ‘Landon.’ It was a tough sentiment to get just right. Landon and I became best friends in a high school in a small town in Alabama. He came out right after graduation and I was one of a few trusted people. My job, in that moment, was to listen. Instead, I responded with a canned answer — one that was drilled into me by a devout Christian upbringing. I knew, deep down, that I was wrong. It took me years (I’m embarrassed by how many years) to confront my conscience and admit that to myself.

“In a lot of ways, my faith journey as a liberal Catholic was jump-started by these questions. It was scary. It was liberating. I felt closer to God than I ever had. By the time I’d figured out how to write the song and how to face up to it, we’d both come to a new place of understanding ourselves in the world. ‘Landon’ is an apology. When I play ‘Landon’ at shows, I like to dedicate it to anybody in the audience who’s owed an apology; one that’s many years coming. And then I dedicate it to anybody in the audience who owes somebody else an apology; one that’s many years in the making.” — Grace Pettis

Photo credit: Nicola Gell Photography

Kacey Musgraves is Country’s Queer Icon, but These Roots Artists are Actually Queer

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Kacey Musgraves’ dominance during Sunday’s 61st Annual Grammy Awards has certainly solidified her place as country music’s newest queer icon. She offered simply stunning, near-perfect performances during the primetime broadcast and took home four trophies: Best Country Solo Performance, Best Country Song, Best Country Album, and one of the most prestigious awards of the night, Album of the Year. So-called “Gay Twitter” devolved into a tizzy as the show unfolded through the afternoon and evening with Musgraves decidedly at the top.

Said Album of the Year, Golden Hour, saw a critical mass of LGBTQ+ fans embracing Musgraves’ music, but her relationship to the broader gay community has been percolating since her debut album, especially given its overt “Follow Your Arrow” message. All combined, her eye for gratuitous-yet-effortless glamour, her acid-steeped, anime-meets-California-meets-trailer park aesthetics, and her singular, pop-influenced countrypolitan sounds are gay country manna from heaven. And it’s not just in the music. This year, she made an appearance as a guest judge on VH1’s RuPaul’s Drag Race All Stars and she routinely advocates for LGBTQ+ fans and their causes on her social media feeds.

To be sure, Musgraves fits the diva-idolized-by-gays criteria impeccably, but there’s a certain passive erasure that can occur when fans consciously or subconsciously become myopic in their praise of and infatuation with straight, cisgendered, female artists. It’s true that Musgraves has played an important role in expanding country music’s borders — musically, socially, and otherwise — but at the same time a burgeoning community of LGBTQ+ writers, artists, musicians, and creators are carving out their own space within country, Americana, folk, and even bluegrass and old-time.

This writer would never go so far as to suggest that one ought not squeal with delight at Musgraves’ fierce-as-fuck costumes, her tear-jerking solo performance of “Rainbow,” or her impossibly long and flowy Cher-callback, bump-it wig. Rather, if you love Kacey Musgraves and Golden Hour — because queer identities can be seen and reflected within her work, because she opens the door to the idea that country isn’t a forbidding place for these identities, and/or because she’s unabashed and unapologetic in her pursuit of these goals — you’re going to love these eleven badass, talented, inspirational, openly queer roots musicians, too.

Time to get stanning:

Brandi Carlile

After last night’s show this name should no longer need mentioning or introduction, as Carlile and her twin collaborators, Tim and Phil Hanseroth, absolutely brought down the Staples Center with one of the most moving performances of the night, the soaring, galvanizing, overtly queer, and now Grammy-winning masterpiece, “The Joke.” Carlile is openly gay, married, a mother of two daughters, and a tireless voice for representation and progress in Americana and its offshoot genres. If “The Joke” resonates with you (i.e. if it makes you sob uncontrollably, as it does this writer), check out “That Wasn’t Me,” “Hurricane,” and, of course, “The Story.”

Mary Gauthier

Gauthier’s latest, Rifles & Rosary Beads, was nominated for Best Folk Album this year and though it didn’t take home the prize, the album has received universal acclaim for its message of hope, empathy, and visibility for members of our armed services and the struggles they face during and after their service. Gauthier collaborated with veterans of the military in writing all of the record’s heart wrenching, honest, raw songs — which might seem counterintuitive given gays’ historically tenuous relationship with the military writ large. But Gauthier’s own life story, and the trials she’s faced, make her the perfect writer to prioritize empathy above all else in these songs.

Don’t sleep on the rest of her discography, though. The simple profundity of her writing is consistently awe-inspiring. Check out “Mercy Now” after you’ve given Rifles & Rosary Beads a listen.

Karen & the Sorrows

Jewish New York City native Karen Pittelman may seem like an unlikely frontwoman of a country band, especially when you factor in her past punk and queercore experiences, but it turns out she grew up bathed in the country compilation albums her father produced and sold for a living. Her voice recalls country mavens of bygone eras — it’s delicate yet powerful, with a pin-up girl quality that’s as subversive as it is natural. Also check out “Take Me for a Ride,” a Pittelman original that plays like a trad-country, queer version of Sam Hunt’s smash hit, “Body Like a Back Road,” but without the cheese.

Little Bandit

All of the hollerin’, barn-burning, hell-raising country soul of your favorite outlaw country rockers, but with lacy gay edges, Little Bandit (AKA Alex Caress, et. al.) is as honky-tonk as it gets. It’s a beautiful balancing act, presenting as an impossibly big-voiced, piano-smashing, charismatic frontman while singing male pronouns without hesitation. He leans into a beautifully paradoxical queerness that equally embraces diamonds, Waffle House allusions, platform shoes, and plain ol drinkin’. If you like it — and you will — check out “Diamonds,” too.

Sarah Shook & the Disarmers

Outspoken outlaws in a crop of alt-country artists who align with that eponymous country movement of the 70s, Sarah Shook & the Disarmers are a road-dogging band that would seemingly fit that mold, excepting Shook’s deliberate efforts to challenge the inherent heteronormativity of country music at every turn. For Shook it’s not necessarily about having a political message, as she put it in a 2018 interview with BGS, “I feel like doing what I’m doing — touring relentlessly, putting out records, and being unapologetically myself — is a very powerful and political maneuver as well… I’ve never been concerned about that because I feel it’s important to be honest and forthright as a human being, and as an artist and certainly lyrically as well.”

Indigo Girls

Both Amy Ray and Emily Saliers — the two halves that make up the absolutely iconic Indigo Girls — have released solo albums in the past year, both of which draw heavily on folk, Americana, and country influences. This should be no surprise to even the most casual IG fans. Banjos, mandolins, ukuleles, and so many other hallmarks of roots music have been integral to the Indigo Girls’ sound all along. But the songwriting, devastating and personal and oh so very real, is the real takeaway from both projects.

kd lang

This list might as well not exist if it excluded kd lang. Before her crossover to more mainstream genre designations, kd pretty much originated the role of badass queer making unimpeachably trad country music that refused to shy away from its queer touchpoints. Just take a look at this video! “Honky Tonk Angels,” sung with Loretta Lynn, Brenda Lee, Kitty Wells, and finally, kd in all of her butch, gender-bending, binary-eschewing glory — complete with a Minnie Pearl cameo! Country has always been (more than) a little queer, y’all.

Lavender Country

A man well, well ahead of his time, Patrick Haggerty (AKA Lavender Country), released his debut, self-titled album in 1973. It was a groundbreaking work, but the world, let alone the country music community and its commercial machine, were not ready for it. A Seattle DJ was fired for playing “Cryin’ These Cocksucking Tears” on the airwaves, only one thousand copies of the album were printed, and the band was relegated to performing exclusively at LGBTQ+ events and programs. But, despite being largely shut out of the industry, Haggerty and Lavender Country never ceased. In 2018, at the age of 74, Haggerty took part in AmericanaFest’s very first queer-focused showcase.

Amythyst Kiah

Amythyst Kiah’s booming, captivating voice, and her haunting, Southern gothic approach to Americana, bluegrass, and old-time set her apart from almost anyone else on the scene at this moment. Her reimagination of Dolly Parton’s magnum opus, “Jolene,” is a perfect example of how she carefully turns tradition on its ear. Based in East Tennessee herself, she draws on the rich musical heritage of the region, adding her own spin, creating space to allow herself to soar. And there’s plenty more soaring in her future, as she has opened shows for artists such as Rhiannon Giddens and Indigo Girls across the country and in Europe, and her collaboration album with Giddens, Allison Russell (Birds of Chicago), and Leyla McCalla, Songs of Our Native Daughters, is set to drop February 22.

Alynda Segarra

Singer/songwriter, activist, and Hurray for the Riff Raff frontwoman Alynda Segarra entrances with The Navigator, a concept project that focuses on the life and times of a fictitious Puerto Rican youth living in New York City. Themes of immigration, identity politics, displacement, disenfranchisement, and capitalistic overreach are threaded throughout the album, which offers its songs as tableaus of this girl’s — Navita’s — reality. It’s a stunning reminder that the intricacies and nuances that define us, and by doing so, separate us, are not so difficult for us to overcome with empathy and understanding. “Pa’lante!” (which translates to “forward!”) is the album’s battle cry, a song that turns utter despondency, grief, and a sore lack of humanity into a glimmer of hope.

Trixie Mattel

While almost all other drag queens who delve into the music scene release dance tracks, rap albums, or similar club-ready jams, Trixie Mattel (AKA Brian Firkus) draws upon her rural Wisconsin roots on two folk-adjacent, country-ish albums, Two Birds and One Stone. (Get it?) This isn’t just an opportunist attempt to punch up Trixie’s Dolly Parton-esque, country barbie aesthetic, she’s really got the chops. Not only is she a talented humorous-while-poignant songwriter, her technical skills on guitar and autoharp (yes, autoharp) are precisely honed to showcase her original music. This is no gimmick — though the Doves in Flight Gibson guitar and the custom, pink d’Aigle autoharp are jaw-droppingly perfect additions to Trixie’s lookbook.