Country music’s gender politics have always been, well, kind of fucked up. The genre itself is rooted in class-based declarations of authenticity and individualism, all while negotiating assimilation into urban life. Like any other large group of people, country music artists are by no means monolithic, and the genre’s approach to gender – especially femininity – is diverse. But for all the treacly love songs and mincing breakup songs, the ones where country divas’ lives are at the mercy of men, there are songs that flip that dynamic right on its head.
Stephanie Vander Wel’s Hillbilly Maidens, Okies, and Cowgirls illustrates how this dichotomy has existed since the genre began. Country music has always sold the story of rugged individualism, and that sense of individualism has paved the path for women who present themselves as more rugged than the “Pollyannas” they’re expected to be. That tradition continued well into the classic country era; Loretta Lynn’s “The Pill” and Tammy Wynette’s “D-I-V-O-R-C-E” masterfully display centering women’s agency, while couching that drive in humor and a catchy tune.
It’s no coincidence that if you ask someone on the street to name a country music artist, they’re most likely to list a woman. Dolly, of course, or the ‘90s run of divas like Shania, Faith, or The Chicks. As has been oft-discussed, this generation of country stars tapped into the ‘90s exuberance for individual freedom while questioning the traditional ties that bind us to our scripted gender roles. Faith Hill’s “Wild One” and, of course, The Chicks’ “Not Ready to Make Nice” portray a femininity that is self-confident: there will be no more shrinking behind men in too-large ten-gallon hats.
Marissa Moss and Dr. Jada Watson have extensively documented the decline in women’s presence on mainstream country radio since the aughts. But that doesn’t mean women are shutting up, and we are starting to see queer women, as well as nonbinary and trans artists, use their inspiration from the ‘90s to continue using country music to challenge gender norms. Roberta Lea’s “Too Much of a Woman” is brash, rejecting any sexist norms that would expect her to dim her light. Jessye DeSilva’s “Queen of the Backyard” and Paisley Fields’ “Periwinkle” are touching tributes to young people who know they don’t fit in and never will. Desert Mambas’ “Buzz Cut Blues” is a nod to Leslie Feinberg’s legendary no novel Stone Butch Blues, making good on country music’s promise of non-normative gender performance with a meditation on moving through the world as a transmasc person.
Throughout the century’s worth of country music canon, there is one throughline: this genre that celebrates outlaws and misfits must always celebrate women, femmes, non-men, and others who are doin’ it for themselves.
Photo of Dolly Parton from the Michael Ochs Archives.
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.
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
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
(Editor’s Note: Don’t miss the exclusive premiere of Lila Blue’s new video, “Stranger,” as part of this edition of Out Now. Watch below.)
Lila Blue writes songs with angst, tender love, detailed guitar lines, descriptive lyrics, and witchy energy. Their lyrics pull you into scenes and stories. They sing with great variation, Lila’s vocals are sometimes harsh, like aggressive growling and howling, while at other times they’re a soft and soothing sound. Their craftsmanship is top-tier; their story lines are intricate and engaging. Lila has been working with several of their collaborators since they were a child, developing strong and meaningful relationships. That kind of connection, understanding, and growth creates the perfect grounds for a cohesive sound.
I’m honored to feature this phenomenal artist. I think you’ll find their sound to be engaging, creative, and distinctive. I hope you enjoy Lila’s music as much as I do.
Do you create music primarily for yourself or for others?
Lila Blue: My creative process has become so tied to performing for others that I’m actually not sure anymore. I think before anything else, I make music because I love what storytelling can do. My first love was the written word, and as a sensitive and frequently-overwhelmed individual, it’s been there for me at every turn. I know that I would still write songs even if I never got to play them for anyone again, but I love watching what stories can do to those they touch and how deliciously unreliable they can be to make and ingest.
What is your greatest fear?
I kid you not, my greatest fear is steep inclines that have unsteady ground. If you ever want to catapult me into a state of pure horror (which as I write this down I realize I’m giving any future foe the ability to undo me…), put me on a hill with loose gravel, a sandy bluff, or even a shaky pair of stairs and my nervous system is toast. I fell down a bluff when I was a kid and it’s been ingrained in me since to avoid shifty ground.
What is your current state of mind?
It’s the final day of 2023 as I’m writing this, so I’m feeling more quiet and reflective than usual. There’s been so much pain this year, personally and globally, and I think I’m trying to hold reverence for the grief that comes with that, while also uplifting joy and mindful action whenever I can.
What’s the best advice you’ve ever gotten?
I had a poetry teacher in college, Marie Howe. In our first class, she made it very clear that if we didn’t know an answer and pretended to, we would be missing the entire point of being a student and a person. I have pretended to know many things that I don’t for fear of missing out or being deemed less smart because of it. Having someone give me the permission to let that go – and illuminate how much I was actually missing out on in doing so – is something I’ve reflected on time and time again.
For anyone reading this who might not be out of the closet, were there any specific people, musicians, or resources that helped you find yourself as a queer individual?
I grew up on the Indigo Girls and Brandi Carlile and those folks held out a light for me in their songs to feel seen, to have the thought, “Oh, I can do this as a calling and be vocal about who I am and who I love.” I got to share that with Brandi this year, which absolutely knocked my socks off in the most full-circle way.
I also had a middle school music teacher, Rachel Garlin, who was a proud lesbian folk musician and a huge support in my life at that time. Being in the presence of her living her life happily, full of queer love and music, woke something up in me around how I dreamt about my own future [and that it] was a possible reality. Reading Zami by Audre Lorde in high school was also a big turning point for me and what’s been beautiful about coming out and continuing to grow is that I realized the questioning doesn’t have to end at the point when the closet door opens – we all deserve to have a lifetime of discoveries! I felt that when I found Adrianne Lenker’s work or when I recently read The Argonauts by Maggie Nelson.
What does it mean to you to be an LGBTQ+ musician?
I had a hard time answering this, as there’s so many paths to choose with a question so wonderfully vast. I don’t know how it would feel to not have who I am and who I love intertwined with the art I make, they feel inextricable to me and because of that, I have a hard time pinpointing what it exactly means to me that they intersect. What I do know is that uplifting queer and trans stories that make myself and my community feel desired, honored, seen and held is what I feel called to do with my life, and each time I get to do so and share it with the world, it feels holy to me.
What are your release and touring plans for the next year?
We’ll be releasing two videos for “Stranger” [watch above] and “I Met the Devil,” and a music video for “High on a Hill,” as well as dropping the new merch and vinyl available on my Bandcamp page. I’m planning to tour with my friend and dear collaborator NOGA in the spring, am continuing development on an original musical in February, and in the meantime will be consistently playing shows in NYC starting in mid-January!
Can you tell us a bit about the new video for “Stranger?” We’re so excited to be premiering it within this interview.
I wrote “Stranger” in the green room 15 minutes before going on as an opener for Kevin Bacon’s band in Lincoln, Nebraska, on Father’s Day in 2018 – which sounds like a fever dream when I write it out. Being in the midwest with the Bacon Brothers led to me ingesting a lot of country and folk music on the road and left me with a deep craving to write a tried and true country-folk tune. I wrote it a cappella, and then found the instrumentation a week or so later.
When I wrote it, I thought I was singing it to an “other,” a figment of someone I hoped could love me and see me. Now looking back, it feels like a letter from my closeted 18 year-old self to who I am now: Still ashamed of so much of themselves, trying to write to the stranger they craved to become. It makes me endlessly happy to sing this song to them every chance I get from the proudly queer, and deeply loved self I am now.
The video we got to film in Nashville felt like such a beautiful close to the chapter of bringing “Stranger” to the world. With the small and scrappy team at MOXE, and the amazing Elizabeth Olmstead, I feel we got to showcase what that song is about for me; the music and the words, and the creative lineage that got me there. Myself and long-time collaborators Saskia Lane and Phillip Roebuck got to play through “Stranger” on the beautiful land that MOXE is built on. I got to gaze at the studio in the distance as we sang through a song that means the world to me; I couldn’t have asked for more.
Like you mentioned, you’ve been working with some of your team members and bandmates for over a decade. Could you share that process of growing alongside folks you’ve been working with for years?
I was on a flight the other month with Saskia Lane and Phillip Roebuck (who were the first people I learned how to write songs from) and while the two of them were snoozing, I looked over and had a deep, reflective moment on how lucky I am to be able to collaborate with those who are part of my direct creative lineage. The folks who I made Sweet Pea with literally taught me how to play music, taught me how to be a musician’s musician, and I wouldn’t be the artist and human I am today without them. These songs wouldn’t have bloomed the way they did without Saskia Lane, Phillip Roebuck, Ashley Frith, Gabriel Ebert and Damon Daunno, and Kat Cook’s presence in my life.
You have a distinctive witchy-folk sound. How did you develop your sound and style?
Music has always been a ritualistic and spiritual space for me. As a kid, I was surrounded by folks and relatives who practiced witchcraft and around then I started writing songs in my sleep. Looking back, I wonder if that’s when I was least vigilant to certain turmoils I was going through, but I like to “yes and” when it comes to the rational and the mystic!
From the jump, what’s come out of me is tied to the lineage of folk music and those that taught it to me at the Lake Lucille Project, an artistic commune I’ve been a member of since I was eight years old. Learning to meld my practices of ritual and channeling, with the muscles I’ve built over the years in studying writing and music, has let me feel like I’m not powerless to what comes through me; I think if anything from here things will only get witchier.
Your music plays with intense variation in tempo and dynamics. Some of your songs whisper while others growl. This contrast creates engaging collections of songs. What is it like for you to write with so much diversity in sound?
Thank you for noticing that. I’ve always been really drawn to artists whose bodies of work are full of contradictions. A few months ago, someone asked me what I like most about music. It took me a moment to articulate it properly, but as someone who’s faced a fair share of trauma in my life, with that has come a distortion and “fossilizing” of time. I felt really trapped by my memories and through that felt trapped by time itself. But with music, I found that I could suspend time in the way my trauma did, but not from a foundation of harm. A good song can do that for someone – at least it does that for me. I figured out that for me to keep that suspension going, I needed to make music that felt surprising and dynamic to my ear.
You recently released your fourth album, Sweet Pea. Is there anything you’d like to share with our audience about the new album?
I’ve been so lucky to experiment with every record I’ve done and explore the current themes I felt drawn to at that time. When my producer Jordan Brooke Hamlin and I began to meet and discuss what this record would be about, I realized that I wanted to make a project where if someone asked me who I was when no one was looking at me, I could hand them a piece of music and show them. This is that record for me. If you listen to it, it will tell you all you need to know about me, and it wouldn’t have become that without the amazing crew at MOXE and my bandmates, some of whom have been my collaborators the past 12 years.
Photo Credit: Frank Theodore
“Stranger” Video Credits: Recorded at MOXE in Nashville, TN. Produced by Lila Blue & MOXE.
Elizabeth Olmstead – Direction, cinematography, & editing Lila Blue – Acoustic guitar & vocals Phillip Roebuck – Resonator guitar & percussion Saskia Lane – Upright bass
Special thanks to Jordan Brooke Hamlin, Lake Wilkinson, Kat Cook, & the MOXE crew.
Madeleine Kelson blends traditional folk, country, and Americana. She played Queerfest and took part in AmericanaFest this year, has been featured multiple times on NPR, and was a finalist in the Kerrville Folk Festival’s New Folk Competition.
Madeleine is from Chicago and based in Nashville, where she lives with her partner. Her single, “The Way I Do,” displays her relationship with her partner through a lens that shows how ordinary queer relationships can be: Drinking coffee every morning, coming home for dinner, and falling asleep beside each other every night. The hook declares, “God has never loved a woman the way I do.” It’s an iconic LGBTQ+ anthem, and in my opinion, it’s one of the most compelling songs about queer love and pride.
We’re proud to promote this dedicated and creative up-and-coming coming artist. Our Out Now interview discusses why Madeleine creates music, her favorite LGBTQ+ artists, her release and touring plans for 2024, and more.
Why do you create music? What’s more satisfying to you, the process or the outcome?
Making music has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. When I started playing and singing as a kid, it was a way for me to connect to the people around me – at first by singing around the house with my mom and my sister and then by playing music with my friends. That’s still a big part of it now, but starting around my teenage years music became a way for me to process big emotions and give them somewhere to live outside of my mind.
As far as the process versus the outcome, I don’t tend to think of making music as having an outcome. A song gets written, and maybe that’s the outcome of songwriting, but then it might get arranged, or performed, or recorded. Even after I stop playing a song at shows, people still listen to it and it grows and changes with them. I’d say the most satisfying part is the impact, whether that be for me or for someone else.
What’s the best advice you’ve ever gotten?
I love this question! I couldn’t pick just one piece of advice, so here are a few:
One from my mom: “No is a complete sentence.”
Some from my grandpa: “Shoot for the moon. You might surprise yourself and get it.” “Follow your passion. If you love what you do that’s what you will do best.“ And “Treat others with respect. The way up can be a hard slow journey but the fall can be very fast and you meet the same people on the way down as you did on the way up.”
I’ll throw in a good Yiddish saying too: “When you have a lot to do, go to sleep.”
Who are your favorite LGBTQ+ artists and bands?
Oh man! Here’s a big long list, because it’s so hard to choose!
Brandi Carlile (I will always look up to her), Freddie Mercury (I listened to a lot of Queen in high school), Indigo Girls, Linda Perry, Allison Russell, Brandy Clark, Aaron Lee Tasjan, Katie Pruitt, Amythyst Kiah, Celisse, Boygenius…
Also want to shout out some amazing local artists that I love: Purser, Autumn Nicholas, Jobi Riccio, Becca Mancari, Denitia, Jaimee Harris, Liv Greene, and Julia Cannon.
For anyone reading this who might not be out of the closet, were there any specific people, musicians, or resources that helped you find yourself as a queer individual?
I was really lucky to grow up in a very liberal city in a very liberal family. When I came out, I knew the people around me would be supportive. Any apprehension I felt had to do with the people outside of my circle and my life beyond Chicago. That being said, I still didn’t really know I was gay until high school. I think the things that helped me find myself were the people around me – having friends who were out, seeing queer couples, going to pride parades, watching shows with queer characters, going to concerts or other events that I knew lots of queer people would attend.
Seeing what that part of my life could look like in other people helped me make sense of who I could be. Coming out is something you don’t do just once, but constantly for the rest of your life. At some point it changed from something I dreaded doing to something that has brought me comfort, joy, and community.
What are your release and touring plans for the next year?
I’m currently releasing singles off of a four-song EP that will be out mid-February. I’ll be on tour with Alaina Stacey supporting that EP, through the Midwest and Northeast starting February 16th in Chicago. Touring is one of my favorite things, and I can’t wait to see everyone at these shows! Seriously, show up. I want to see you!
You’ve done a lot this year, from touring to playing several festivals, including Queerfest, AmericanaFest, and Perseids Music Festival. What’s that been like for you?
It has been so much fun! There are few things that bring me more joy, or make me feel more like myself, than being on stage. It’s such a rush and so emotionally gratifying, even to play sad songs and feel things so deeply with other people. There’s really nothing like it. It’s been a busy year, and one in which I have definitely overcommitted myself, but I’m grateful for every part of it.
In 2022, you released your debut album, While I Was Away, on Olivia Records. Can you share some of the key inspirations and themes behind the album?
While I Was Away was actually my college thesis project! The idea was to write and produce an album that musically pulled from the different building block genres of Americana (folk, rock, country, etc.), and lyrically spoke to the years since I moved away from home. It’s a real time capsule of my life from 18-22. It’s about leaving home, being gay in the South (oy), growing up, watching the kids I babysit grow up, my dog, so many things!
You were also a finalist in the Kerrville New Folk Competition. Could you tell us about that experience?
Kerville Folk Festival was incredible. I had no idea what to expect going into it. I applied on a whim and when I heard that I got in, I could never have imagined what it would be like. If you haven’t been to a festival like that, it can be hard to imagine, but essentially there’s a big piece of land in the middle of Texas and for three weeks every year it turns into a city of stages, tents, RVs, and so much good music. It’s home to the most respectful and outstanding song circles that carry on through the night, and quite possibly do not ever end. Playing and competing was an honor, but the real privilege was to be around so many phenomenal songwriters whom I’m happy to now call my friends.
Could you share the creative process, inspirations, and the significance behind your song ‘The Way I Do’?
“The Way I Do” started as a line that floated around in the back of my mind, honestly probably for months before I knew what to do with it. The line was, “If I don’t get to heaven for loving her true, God has never loved a woman the way I do,” which ultimately became the hook of the chorus.
Growing up, I was very aware of homophobia, but it wasn’t something I experienced personally in any significant way. That really changed when I moved to Tennessee. And I say that not to generalize or condemn the South – there are a lot of amazing people here who are deeply involved in fighting inequality. In my experience, it’s a more tangible and pervasive issue here, and if anyone is going to make a difference, it’s the people here who are fighting that fight every day. I think growing up with the experience of feeling entitled to confidence and comfort in my sexuality made me that much more pissed off when I was faced with intolerance. Especially the virulent brand of “Christian” homophobia that the South is so well known for. That, I really didn’t and still don’t understand.
The thought behind the song is kind of a sarcastic, “If your god knew how great it is to love a woman, he/she/it definitely wouldn’t hate me for it.” It’s definitely a “fuck you,” but it’s also an honest reflection on how easy and natural it is to love someone who happens to share your gender.
Zach Day stands out as an artist who has developed his own sound. His writing is venerable and filled with emotion, his voice is professional and polished, and his lyrics are clever, descriptive, and carefully crafted.
I loved hearing Zach’s responses for Out Now. It’s such a treat to gain insights into his mind, music, and process. Zach opens up about his experience growing up as an LGBTQ+ kid in Kentucky and how bittersweet it was, on the one hand, to be immersed in deep homophobia, but on the other, to be built into a beautiful Appalachian environment with inspiring storytelling, homegrown food, and the gift to sing with friends and family.
What’s your ideal vision for your future?
I have this dream of being able to make music full time, never having to worry about money to support my friends and family, and traveling the world with my partner. Eventually I will settle down on a little farm with a family milk cow and some chickens, maybe a couple kids, a big vegetable garden, and a porch with a swing and a bunch of people I love singing songs in harmony while I make a giant dinner for us all every weekend.
What is your greatest fear?
My greatest fear is not being able to accomplish everything that I have dreamed for myself and being forced to live a life of “What-ifs.” I’ve put a lot of pressure on myself and sometimes that freaks me out, because I worry I may never be satisfied. I have to work actively every day to calm myself down [over] these expectations, because it’ll send me into anxiety! That and the whale from Pinocchio… scared of him.
Why do you create music? What’s more satisfying to you, the process or the outcome?
I create music because I think I have a story that needs to be told. Being a queer person that was raised in the heart of Appalachia is a special and unique perspective. I was raised around amazing singers and musicians, but also I always felt like an observer of my surroundings. I choose to reflect on the great things I took from my raising. I have a huge heart for Appalachia and the stories that come from there. I was raised by generations of coal miners and farmers, teachers and preachers, gardeners and homemakers. I love to reflect on those sentiments in my music and I think you can hear it in my voice and in my songs.
Who are your favorite LGBTQ+ artists and bands?
I can’t get enough of Ethel Cain right now, I really look up to her and her writing skills. She’s inspiring me so much with how she is choosing to tell her stories. Also Searows… can’t get enough.
What are your release and touring plans for the next year?
I have a handful of songs being mixed and mastered right now on their way to streaming platforms and I plan to continue playing all over the place. I have shows booked in LA, Nashville, and NYC all within the next few months. My goal is to open for a big artist like Ethel Cain. I believe it can happen very soon.
You grew up in Kentucky. What was that experience like for you as a queer person?
Growing up in Kentucky as a queer person wasn’t easy. I didn’t even know I was gay until I was a bit older, but I had grown adults saying I couldn’t come to church with them, because they didn’t want a fag in their car. That was before I even knew I was gay. So I had this aura around me my whole childhood that I was different and I think that shifted my perspective on my life. In the good moments though, I could connect with music and really draw on the storytelling and lyrics that I heard to find inspiration. Appalachia is full of amazing storytelling and the environment and nature are so beautiful. I loved eating the food we would grow, I loved singing with my family and friends, and I loved hearing stories from artists like Mitch Barrett and Zoe Speaks.
You stand out as an artist who has developed your own sound. Your voice is professional, polished, and filled with emotion. Your lyrics are clever and descriptive, and the craftsmanship of your songwriting is phenomenal. What was the process of developing your identity as an artist?
Thank you for those kind words, that means a lot to me. I’m still developing my sound and my brand every day. As far as developing what I have at this point, I think that I did my homework for many years… I studied the greats and their subtle nuances… If Karen Carpenter or Joni Mitchell sang something that sent a shiver down my spine I would rewind it and try to emulate that to the best of my ability. If I heard a Dolly Parton lyric that moved me, I would let it sink into my being and ponder it. I just wanted to be able to write iconic songs and sing my face off – and I worked really hard to try and capture that. These days, I feel as though I’ve been leaning more into my Appalachian roots. I spent a long time running from what made me unique, but now I embrace it.
You recently spent some time living in LA and moved back to Nashville. What drew you to live in LA for a while, and what was that experience like for you?
I grew up always wanting to live in LA and experience that lifestyle. I was working with some folks that told me I would “do better” in LA and had a better chance at getting my music heard. But I don’t necessarily think that’s true. I love it there and I love it in Nashville as well. I’ve built a community in both places and have been fortunate enough to work with amazing people in both locations. I have my pockets of support in both cities and for that I’m super lucky. I just realized that I miss being in the woods too much to live in LA right now. I missed nature and I missed being able to turn off my phone and go for a run on a trail, down the road. I love being in the city from time to time but at the end of the day, I’m a country boy and it’s in my roots.
For this edition of Out Now, we’re honored to introduce an artist I’ve known for years. Liv Greene and I met in 2017 at Interlochen Arts Academy. It’s incredible to watch artists like Liv, who have been dedicated to their craft for years, develop careers in the industry. Following our time at a small arts school in Northern Michigan, Liv and I both moved to Boston. After a year at Tufts, grappling between following a traditional path or following her intuition, she transferred to New England College of Music. And we both eventually found ourselves in Nashville.
I have known a small handful of individuals who took this path – following music and intuition from their teen years into adulthood. That kind of persistence and dedication is rare.
I’ve known Liv from before they were out to even their closest friends to now, a time when they are publicly vocal about their identity. To some, these things may seem small. But to teens, up-and-coming artists, and the queer community, it’s incredibly important.
Liv has long been one of the most talented artists I’ve known – even in their teen years. But years of persistence and dedication to their craft have sculpted their music and work into something polished, professional, and bound to take off if they continue on this path. If you don’t know their music, you’re in for a treat: sophisticated guitar lines soaring melodies and reflective lyrics. We are so proud to present Liv Greene for Out Now.
Why do you create music? – What’s more satisfying to you, the process or the outcome?
Liv Greene: The process! I think I make music because I have an ever-burning curiosity and desire to learn new things. Ever since I was 11 and first discovered my ravenous appetite for learning songs on the guitar, my passion has burned brightly and shifted focus a number of times. Recently, the process of recording is really fascinating to me. I am quite new to it overall, and I feel lucky to have some mentors that have really helped me wrap my head around the daunting mystery of it. My first record was produced by my friend and mentor Isa Burke, (you may have heard her shred electric guitar and fiddle with Aoife O’Donovan), and watching her work, as both a session musician and producer on that record, was beyond inspiring. This past year I’ve been lucky to work on a record with legendary engineer Matt Andrews. Matt’s become a friend as well as a mentor and the process of making music with him has taught me more than I can even put into words.
What is your current state of mind?
Recently, it’s not the most positive. With the accelerating climate crisis, I’ve been grappling with big picture plans and visions and considering how it all may need to change in a different world. For example, touring, while once a main dream for my career, now doesn’t feel like the most important thing to me anymore, especially given all the carbon emissions from flying and the gasoline needed to drive. While connecting with people over sharing music on tour feels really sacred to me, I think being intentional about it and how often I’m doing it feels like the only thing that makes sense. With how scary things are these days, I’ve been trying to zoom in on the close-range and try to make it better. Brighten a corner in the space I’m already in now. I’ve been focusing on the things that have always held me, and trying to be the best I can in return to them. My loved ones, family and friends, and my craft.
What would a “perfect day” look like for you?
As much as I love the road, a perfect day would probably be an off day at home. The groundedness of home is unparalleled. I’d wake up around 9, have some coffee and avocado toast, read my book (right now I’m reading this stunning queer novel, Swimming in the Dark), then go out for my favorite 6-mile skate route through the woods near my home (I love rollerskating, particularly trail skating), then come home, and get ready for the day. Once dressed for the day, I’d play some guitar, work on a half-written song or two.
My favorite way to work on songs is to pick up drafts and ponder them by improvising on them every few weeks until they take form. A perfect day of this would probably lead to a completed song and a demo, which I do on cassette on my Tascam portastudio 424mkii with an Ear Trumpet Labs Edwina mic. Four track demo-ing makes my heart happy. Something about the constraints, and the warmth and imperfection of tape, really helps to rise above the minutia and get to the heart of the song. I’d probably enjoy something tasty for lunch, maybe meet a friend or two for some antiquing or thrifting, and then end the day over delicious food with dear friends. Sharing songs, crafting, and drinking wine or tea on a night in, or dancing my boots off to motown or honky-tonk if on a night out in Nashville.
What’s the best advice you’ve ever gotten?
There are two in particular that come to mind. The first is songwriting related, and it’s something I first heard when I was 16 at Interlochen songwriting camp in northern Michigan. My instructor at the time, an amazing North Carolina-based songwriter and community builder named Cary Cooper, shared with us the words of Mary Gauthier: “Sing the song that only you can sing.” That message has stuck with me ever since, for its sobering simplicity and its reminder to look for the story you can tell best, the one on your own heart.
In terms of non-song-related advice, my friend Jack Schneider introduced me to the Stephen Covey quote, “The main thing is to keep the main thing the main thing.” This applies to production work, when you need to zoom out and make sure you haven’t lost the heart of the song, but also to life in general. If I’m ever getting too tied into or stressed over the details of something I try to remind myself, “It’s just music, focus on the music, enjoy it.”
Who are your favorite LGBTQ+ artists and bands?
This answer changes monthly, maybe even weekly, as we are so blessed to have so many artists who are out and proud these days. Growing up it was Brandi Carlile, and she will always be a huge influence for me not only as a writer and musician, but just as a person. Recently, it’s been a lot of my old friends/new friends/mentors, Jobi Riccio (killer classic-style songwriting meets honest new perspectives and modern production), Chappell Roan (kitschy, campy, brilliant pop artist), Olivia Barton and Corook (you may know the smash TikTok hit, “If I Were a Fish“), Mary Bragg (brilliant songwriting, production, and stunning vocals), Melissa Carper (queer woman queen of western swing/classic country), Rosie Tucker (brilliantly clever indie magic), and Izzy Heltai (indie-americana sad boy music that gets to the heart of it). For more pop, MUNA is also one of my all-time favorite bands, period, Saves the World being the record that got me into them. Their live shows are always a religious experience.
What does it mean to you to be an LGBTQ+ musician? And what are your release and touring plans for the next year?
Man, being an out LGBTQ+ musician means the world to me. Being queer is beautiful, it’s a blessing and a gift to be able to access the fullness of who you are without limitations, and I think it’s particularly special to me given how I am able to be proud of it after years of shame around it. Representation matters. I remember seeing Brandi Carlile when I was 14 and didn’t have any other tangible people I saw myself and my queerness in. In a lot of ways, seeing her live at such a young age helped me realize that it was ok to be me.
As for touring plans, you can catch me on the road this fall with fellow queer Americana artist Brittany Ann Tranbaugh, who just released an EP produced by Tyler Chester (Madison Cunningham) that’s damn good, as well as a couple shows in Tennessee in late October opening for one of my favorite songwriters, Margo Cilker. For release plans, I recently finished work on LP #2 and am burning with anticipation to get it out. It’s looking like spring of 2024. Good things take time.
Jobi Riccio has only begun to scratch the surface of what they have to offer on their debut album, Whiplash. The songwriting is centered around self-discovery and mourning past lives, laid alongside super smart country and pop melodies. Our hero grew up an outdoor kid amongst the woods of Red Rocks Parks and Amphitheatre in Colorado. A strong bluegrass community encircled her playing from a very young age, in a way that encouraged her to pursue music as a career. She spent time in Boston attending Berklee College of Music nestled in the folk community centered around the historic venue, Club Passim. Then March 2020 hit.
Jobi left her new community and found herself back in her childhood bedroom. She was “wrestling with all the complications of finding herself and her place in the world while letting go of her childhood and the sense of grounding that came with it.” Eventually, they made their way to Asheville, North Carolina to work on Whiplash. In the studio, she took her time making the album and discovered that, indeed, she had a strong sense of vision for the music. The trust of her collaborators allowed her to trust in herself and create an album that is turning heads and making Jobi Riccio one of the most exciting young songwriters of 2023. I loved talking to them about their origin, time in Boston and their continuing musical journey. Can’t wait for you to hear her new album!
Palmyra is one of those bands you discover and can’t help but continue to come back to. They are not easily forgotten. They write lyrics that are poetic while being relatable – a duality that is not easy to accomplish.
The musicality of these three highly skilled instrumentalists – Teddy, Manoa, and Sasha – is strong and their energy is quirky, fun, and engaging. Lately, they’ve been touring all over the East Coast, recording, working with artists like Liv Greene and Jobi Riccio, who was previously featured on our column. If you can’t tell yet, the queer music industry is incredibly small and interconnected!
Palmyra uses their innovative songwriting and performance skills to transform traditional folk instruments and three-part harmonies into something you’ve never heard before. We hope you enjoy our Out Now interview featuring Palmyra.
(Editor’s Notes: Interview answers supplied by Sasha Them)
Who are your favorite LGBTQ+ artists and bands?
Among my absolute favorite things about our touring over the last few years are the moments that we get to share stages with other queer artists. Liv Greene is a personal favorite mine; all of their songs exist in their own world of brilliance and masterful craft. Brittany Ann Tranbaugh has songs that absolutely wreck me. Another artist that’s constantly on repeat in the van for us is Brennan Wedl! Their song “Bag of Bones” is one of the most incredible songs I have ever heard and turns me into a pulp every single time I revisit it.
For anyone reading this who might not be out of the closet, were there any specific people, musicians, or resources that helped you find yourself as a queer individual?
Yes! I am an out-and-proud queer person now, but it took quite a while to settle into the person I am today. There are so many artists that helped move the needle for me; particularly the abundance of queer and trans folks I connected with online during the lockdown. Backxwash is top of the list for me; she’s a killin’ rapper and producer based out of Canada and her music helped me to understand that as artists we can channel complicated emotions and inner turmoil to create something empowering and badass and beautiful.
What are your release and touring plans for the next year?
Touring has been our full time job for two-and-a-half years now, and we plan on continuing to hit the road in full force in 2024. Our hope is to branch out to some new regions and cities, and I am sure we’ll be visiting all of our favorite places along the East Coast, from Maine to Georgia. Now that I say that, I’m realizing that, as a band, we kind of follow the Appalachian Trail in our tour routing…
We’ve got two more singles coming out this year, and are planning on putting out a few projects in 2024. I am so excited to share the music we’ve been working on.
This year, you’ve been sharing stages with bands like Watchhouse, playing festivals, and touring all over the East Coast of the U.S. What has that been like for you?
This year has definitely been our wildest one yet. Some of the experiences we’ve had, like opening for Watchhouse, have been so surreal to me. It feels like the work we’ve been putting in for so long has started to pay off in very real ways. Getting to play Newport Folk Festival is one of the highest honors any of us have ever had and it is beyond cool to get to connect with folks all over just by doing the thing we all love most – playing and writing songs.
What does your songwriting process look like? You have incredibly strong lyrics that are both relatable and poetic. Do you map out the structure and content of the song first? Do you think about song structure and tools like prosody, lyrical placement, and rhyme types? Do you spend a lot of time editing?
The songwriting process looks pretty different for all three of us, but each song typically starts with one writer and then is brought to the group to arrange and flesh out. There’s a very special (and sometimes uncomfortable) moment that has to happen when one of us brings a song to the group; you have to be able to release ownership of the thing you’ve created so that it can become a collective version that everybody has had their hands on.
For me, I usually start with one line that comes to me when I’m away from any instruments – typically when I’m out driving or walking! I am very particular about what words feel good coming out of my mouth and what feels the most authentic to my own personhood. Prosody and internal rhyme schemes are almost always on my mind, especially when I’m reworking a tune. I love getting into the nitty gritty parts of a song, and I love the moment I am able to zoom out when a song is finished and take care to make sure everything fits together.
Photo Credit: Joey Wharton
Out Now is a partnership of Queerfest and BGS authored by Queerfest founder and director Sara Gougeon.
Artist:Sarah King Hometown: currently Ripton, Vermont; formerly Columbus, Georgia Song: “Hey Hey What Can I Do” (Led Zeppelin cover) Release Date: September 1, 2023 (single) Label: Ringleader Records
In Their Words: “Recording ‘Hey Hey What Can I Do’ was a bold, last-minute decision in the studio to celebrate and share some self-love: It was the first song I learned to play by ear on guitar, and I kept the original pronouns as a nod to some of the wonderful women I’ve dated in the past. I am now married to a man, but owning my queerness through music felt like the right choice.
“When it came time to craft a video, I knew Loni (of Whiskey Ginger Goods, who also designs my logo and merch) was the perfect director. She’s excellent at capturing women feeling themselves, and those beautiful in-between, emotional moments that can really tell a story. During my summer tour in Montana, we set aside some time to film both the bar and bedroom scenes. Combined, the video leads us through the seductive, and at times silly, story of a woman in love with another woman who won’t be true. As the heartbreak unfolds, the video gets more unhinged, until I just flop on the bed, tired of trying. I loved recording the song and video, and I hope everyone who watches has a blast listening, too!” – Sarah King
Track Credits:
Sarah King – vocals, guitars
David Baron – piano, organ
Johnny Stanton – bass Jeff Lipstein – drums
Produced, recorded, and mixed by David Baron at Sun Mountain Studios, Boiceville, New York Renee Hikari – assistant engineer David Baron – mastering engineer
Photo Credit: Arielle Thomas Video Credit: Filmed & directed by Whiskey Ginger Goods, Bozeman, Montana
Edited & produced by Sarah King
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