Artist:Bre Kennedy Hometown: Nashville Song: “Before I Have a Daughter” Release Date: September 23, 2022 Label: Nettwerk
In Their Words: “‘Before I Have A Daughter’ is a really special song to me. It’s the next single off my upcoming EP that I’m releasing in the next few months. I wrote this song with one of my absolute favorite songwriters, Lori McKenna, during our first conversation upon meeting and writing together. A simple ‘getting to know each other’ chat led to a question, ‘Do you have kids?’ To which I responded, ‘Not yet … before I have a daughter …’ and this song helped me process that phrase. This is a coming-of-age song for me about growing up and into the woman I am, about finding acceptance and beauty in the mess of life and about celebrating how far I’ve come through my failures and growth to acknowledge that in my desire to want to make a good life for my future self … I have already started making one.” — Bre Kennedy
Artist:Kimberly Kelly Hometown: Lorena, Texas Song: “Person That You Marry” (written by Kimberly Kelly, Brett Tyler, and Lori McKenna) Album:I’ll Tell You What’s Gonna Happen Release Date: July 8, 2022 Label: Show Dog Nashville in Partnership with Thirty Tigers
In Their Words: “I didn’t write everything on the album, but I’m very proud of writing this one. A close friend was at lunch with someone going through a divorce who said this: ‘You know the person you marry, but not the one you divorce.’ I told my friend, ‘If you don’t write that, I will!’ And I did. This was my first write with Lori, and I wanted to impress her, so I threw out, ‘I knew you in love, but this is war/You know the person you marry, not the one you divorce.’ We started talking and, unfortunately, there has been a lot of divorce in my family. Lori and I were going in that direction, but when we got to the second verse, Brett steered it back to talking about when they did love each other. That was a revelation and makes it so much sadder. A song I needed to write.” — Kimberly Kelly
It’s been a year and a month since I got back from my last tour in pre-pandemic times (as we now refer to it). I was winding through the Okanagan Valley in British Columbia, Canada, performing a run of seven shows. The month of March in the Okanagan usually has summer-like weather and the temperatures on this trip delivered and then some. Even though I was working, the mountains, valleys, and blue skies reflected in lakes made it feel like a vacation during those long drives with music humming along on the car stereo.
Working full-time as a touring musician is a really busy lifestyle. If you’re not writing new material you’re getting ready to release songs, you’re promoting songs, planning a tour, going on tour — the cycle is endless. As a result, some of the only time I have for my mind to rest somewhat idle is on the long drives between gigs. I see it as a bit of a gift. The music accompanying my travels helps me get a little lost for just a little while. Sometimes I arrive at the next place wondering “how the heck did I get here?” Here are some of the songs that I’ve enjoyed getting lost in. — Jeffery Straker
Jason Isbell – “Traveling Alone”
Often when I’m out on the road I’m traveling alone, or with a side-musician who is asleep in the passenger seat. Isbell sings about being a traveler missing someone he loves, and about reflections on some of the life decisions he’s made. “So high the street girls wouldn’t take my pay, they said come see me on a better day, she just danced away.” It’s perfect fodder for a freed up mind to wander within.
Joni Mitchell – “A Case of You”
Joni released this in 1971. When I first heard it I just loved that within the first few seconds of the song she sang “if you want me I’ll be in the bar”. Who writes like that? She does. I’ve never figured out the meaning of “I could drink a case of you and I would still be on my feet”. It’s perfectly vague. Does it mean “I could never get enough of you”, or does it mean “I’ll never be drunk on your love because it’s not enough”?
John Prine – “Egg & Daughter Nite, Lincoln Nebraska, 1967 (Crazy Bone)”
This is such a visual romp for me. Prine sings about how farmers would bring their daughters with them to town to sell eggs and the gals would head to the local roller rink. It’s so specific, but he delivers this great universal ponderance through chronicling this quirky event: “When you got hell to pay, put the truth on layaway, and blame it on that ol’ crazy bone.”
George Jones – “He Stopped Loving Her Today”
My grandma and grandpa loved this song and so many of the songs like this from the same era of country. It’s such a “story-song.” It’s so sad and the steel guitar with the string section accompanying it is such a perfect pairing. That ascending string line at the start of the chorus really heightens the emotions too; I hear it and wonder who thought of that line? George? The producer? George breaks into a spoken-word second verse and brings even more intimacy — you literally lean in closer to the speaker. Those feelings for the one he loves never go away until the day he dies. It just grabs you and doesn’t let go.
Brandi Carlile – “The Joke”
Stratospheric vocals, brooding piano, and a riveting story. It’s all here. Carlile is passing along some advice to young children who don’t quite fit in. They’re probably from the LGBTQ community, but certainly from any marginalized group. “Let ’em laugh while they can. Let ’em spin, let ’em scatter in the wind. I have been to the movies, I’ve seen how it ends, and the joke’s on them.” Riveting stuff and you want to hit repeat.
Lori McKenna – “The Lot Behind St. Mary’s”
In the wake of my mom passing away just over two years ago, I discovered Lori through her song, “A Mother Never Rests.” It’s perfect. And through that song I found this one that really struck me; it’s from the same album. She very fluidly goes back and forth between “younger days” and the present, both longing for the past and accepting the present.
Jeffery Straker – “Play That Song Again”
This is the latest single I released from my upcoming album; it’s a waltz. This song, like the album, is lyrically reflective. I figured that the waltz-time would add to that feeling — I find waltzes take me back in time. Lyrically the singer looks back at life’s ups and downs, but ultimately lands in a place of contentment with where he’s landed. I think that’s all we want to eventually be able to do — be comfortable with the path we’ve taken.
Leon Russell – “It Takes a Lot to Laugh, It Takes a Train to Cry”
This is a Dylan tune that Leon Russell recorded in 1971. Dylan recorded it in ’65. It’s the vibe that I love here, though I don’t actually know what it’s about. It’s got all sorts of sexual allusions in its swagger. Russell approaches it slower than Dylan and for me this tempo suits it perfectly.
Harry Nilsson – “Everybody’s Talkin’”
I moved to Belfast, Northern Ireland, for part of my university studies and lived in a house with some great singers. At late-night song and drink sessions this song was a favorite for two harmony-singing gals, Carol and Loraine. Every time I hear this I’m transported back to that old Georgian row house and I’m standing in the kitchen listening to them.
Dolly Parton – “My Tennessee Mountain Home”
There’s such beauty in the simplicity that Dolly conjures up with her words. In the very first verse you see her “Watch the kids a’ playin’ with June bugs on a string.” It’s lovely, and now I want to do that. It’s a different time and Dolly paints an idyllic picture of her roots. When I think back to my home, thankfully I have good memories of it too — and she sort of takes me there even though she grew up in a two-room log cabin and I did not. But that’s Dolly — taking something specific and making it wonderfully universal.
Gordon Lightfoot – “If You Could Read my Mind”
I wasn’t a huge Gordon Lightfoot fan in my teens and 20s, but once I hit my 30s I became rabidly into his poetry. This song is quite simply about the failure of a marriage but the language he uses to describe it just takes me somewhere else when I listen. All his talk of “ghosts from wishing wells,” “a paperback novel, the kind the drugstore sells,” and “a movie star getting burned in a three way script.” It just grabs me and doesn’t let go.
Paul Simon – “American Tune”
I once had the chance to sing this in a variety show in a big theatre in Toronto. I had to memorize the lyrics and chords for the performance so I got to know it really well. The chord progressions are just stunning and the melody sails along on top of it like the sun dancing across water. “I don’t know a dream that’s not been shattered or driven to its knees, but it’s all right, it’s all right, for we’ve lived so well so long.”
Madison Violet – “No Fool for Trying”
I’ve always loved these two gals from the first time I saw them in concert. Their chemistry is really magical through both their musicianship and their vocal harmonies. The arrangement on this song is really simple and the chug-chug-chug rhythm seems to pull me down the highway on long drives. It opens with the lyric: “There’s trouble on this road…” and you’re left curious as to what’s happened. It pulls you in like a good book.
David Francey – “Blue Sorrow and Then Some”
It’s a longing song and the title says it all. I really like the 6/8 feel. The tempo he’s chosen keeps it kind of light and almost cheerful, but with such a sad sentiment in the story being told. “…but sometimes I wonder, do you think of me?” His vocal performance helps you feel the fragility of it all.
Artist:Donovan Woods Hometown: Sarnia, Ontario, Canada Latest Album:Without People (Deluxe)
What other art forms — literature, film, dance, painting, etc. — inform your music?
I read a lot of fiction and journalism and I’m always writing down little passages in hopes of merging their feeling into lyrics in some way. I’d like to think that painting informs me, because I love it so much. I’m entranced by it, but I can’t think of any songs of mine which are directly influenced by paintings. Maybe I’ll try. I’ll try!
What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?
We played in London, UK a few years ago, we’d never had a real ticketed show there and we surprisingly sold it out. Brits are just better at being in crowds. Everyone sang, yelled and made us feel really great. So lovely to have that many people really present and enjoying the songs that far from home.
What was the first moment that you knew you wanted to be a musician?
I think when I started to write songs that people liked. I would send them to friends and they would say, “I would actually listen to this!” and I was very encouraged. I was already in my 20s. It took me a long time to figure it out. It’s never particularly easy to me. I think this notion of “god being in the room” or whatever is really compelling but he doesn’t seem to come into the room for me. It’s just me and my brain trying to figure it out. The closest I come to “god in the room” is I get to write with Lori McKenna sometimes.
Which elements of nature do you spend the most time with and how do those impact your work?
Swimming. I think swimming in bodies of water is the actual meaning of life. I walk a lot while listening to mixes. I feel like that’s the only way I can tell if it’s actually good. My wife likes to go camping. I don’t much like it.
If you had to write a mission statement for your career, what would it be?
I do what I want. It’s bratty, but that’s really it.
At BGS, we seek out roots music from all corners — for those readers encountering us for the first time, we’re not “just bluegrass.” With our annual year-end list, we’ve shaken off the “best of” title and instead gathered 20 recordings that inspired our staff and contributors. For many reasons (but especially the long-awaited return of live music and festivals), we look ahead to 2021, but first… here are the albums and songs that inspired us in 2020.
Courtney Marie Andrews – Old Flowers
Courtney Marie Andrews couldn’t touch my heart deeper. Her music has been the healing salve for the wounds of 2020. To me, she’s the true definition of an artist: A songwriter, a musician, a painter, a writer, a singer, a poet, an activist. My favorite song on her magical 2020 album is “Old Flowers.” It’s the perfect metaphor of resilience and rebirth after suffering, both in love and in life. Becoming whole again. If that ain’t a theme we could all grow from this year, I don’t know what is! – Beth Behrs
Anjimile – “Maker (Acoustic)”
Anjimile’s Giver Taker was the album I can’t stop (and won’t stop) telling people about in 2020. The full version of their single, “Maker” was a beautiful amalgamation of cultures and influences synthesized by an artist not constrained by cultural and creative preconceptions. To me, Anjimile’s acoustic version of the lead single distills the brilliance of their songwriting into its purest form. – Amy Reitnouer Jacobs
Danny Barnes – Man on Fire
Danny Barnes’ Man on Fire was a worthwhile gift to us all this year. Over the last couple of years, I’d heard chatter of a project in the works with names like Dave Matthews, John Paul Jones, and Bill Frisell involved. I am constantly in awe of what Barnes can create using the banjo as a pencil. This record was no exception, combining his unique style and songwriting with an electrified crew. – Thomas Cassell
Bonny Light Horseman – “The Roving”
There’s an odd bit of sorcery in the first measures of “The Roving,” a new version of an old folk tune on this supergroup’s debut. It opens tentatively, the instruments falling into the song like autumn leaves: First an acoustic guitar, then cymbals, then piano, all coalescing into a windblown arrangement that’s both understated and sublime. – Stephen Deusner
Bob Dylan – Rough and Rowdy Ways
Packed with jumbles of historic/cultural references and tall tales, bluesy swagger and prayerful romance, and climaxing with the shattered-mirror JFK assassination epic “Murder Most Foul,” Dylan’s first set of originals in a decade is breathtakingly masterful. It’s also, often, hilarious. Nearing 80, the Bard’s as playful as ever. And as poignant. And, justifiably, as cocky. – Steve Hochman
To me, Bob Dylan’s best era started in 1989 with his 26th studio album, Oh Mercy, and continues to this day with his 39th, Rough and Rowdy Ways. “Murder Most Foul” shows us that the master of his generation is as much in control of his folktale troubadour craft as he’s ever been. – Chris Jacobs
Justin Farren – Pretty Free
Knowing nothing about Justin Farren, I was immediately sucked into his evocatively detailed story-songs that involved returning diapers to Costco, getting a “two-paycheck ticket” while trying to impress a girl, and (in the all-too-appropriately-titled for-2020, “Last Year Was The Best Year”) a wild Disneyland adventure. Full of humor, sorrow, regrets and hope, Pretty Free was a musical world I visited often this year. – Michael Berick
Mickey Guyton – “Black Like Me”
Mickey Guyton’s lyrics illuminate the individuality and dilemma of any non-white vocalist in country music, and in particular the difficult journey of Black women in the field. Her performance is gripping and memorable, paying homage to many others who’ve faced ridicule and questions about why they’re daring to perform in an idiom many still feel isn’t suited for their musical style. – Ron Wynn
Sarah Jarosz – “Pay It No Mind”
Atop a Fleetwood Mac-style groove, Sarah Jarosz imagines the advice a distant bird might offer. But her songbird is no sweet, shallow lover. She comes with the weight and wisdom of something more timeless. Jarosz lets her fly via mandolin-fiddle interplay that personifies the tension between the endless sky and the “world on the ground.” – Kim Ruehl
Lydia Loveless – Daughter
“I’m not a liberated woman,” Lydia Loveless declares on her fifth album, “just a country bumpkin dilettante.” Don’t you believe it. Written in the shadow of her 2016 divorce and beautifully sung in a voice both epic and straightforward, Daughter finds this Americana siren at the height of her formidable powers. – David Menconi
Lori McKenna – The Balladeer
Lori McKenna‘s singular talent for capturing the joy in everyday details is on full display, from the church parking lots and hometown haunts of “This Town Is a Woman” to the stubborn tiffs and make-up kisses on “Good Fight.” But The Balladeer acknowledges the hard-as-hell times, too. With gentle accompaniment, commanding melodies, and McKenna’s signature lyrical wit, The Balladeer showcases a modern songwriting master. – Dacey Orr Sivewright
Jeff Picker – With the Bass in Mind
I love “new acoustic music,” but am often afraid I’ll be disappointed by it. Jeff Picker’s With the Bass in Mind immediately eases those worries by offering music that is creative, thoughtful, unexpected, and virtuosic while still feeling grounded and musical. All while effortlessly answering the once-rhetorical question: “What would a solo bluegrass bass album even sound like?” – Tristan Scroggins
William Prince – Reliever
William Prince‘s Reliever feels like the best pep talk I’ve ever had. In particular, “The Spark” finds him astonished with loving a partner who loves him back, no matter his own perceived flaws. As a whole, the album explores complicated emotions with a comforting arrangement (with duties shared by Dave Cobb and Scott Nolan). Sung with assurance by Prince, almost like he’s confiding in you, Reliever is both encouraging and excellent. – Craig Shelburne
Scott Prouty – Shaking Down the Acorns
We’d be remiss in our jobs as procurers of roots music culture to not include this stoically beautiful record on our year-end list of the very best. A hearty collection of 24 (mostly solo) old-time fiddle and banjo songs, there is something ever-present, comforting, and timeless about Prouty’s playing, and I have no doubt this is a record I’ll be revisiting like an old friend for years to come. – Amy Reitnouer Jacobs
Emily Rockarts – Little Flower
Montreal-based songwriter Emily Rockarts’ debut album Little Flower is one to remember. Produced by Franky Rousseau (Goat Rodeo Sessions), the album features lilting cinematic ballads punctuated with dance-in-your-room indie anthems. Rockarts’ musicianship is undeniable; her stunning melodies and refreshingly earnest lyrics make for a remarkable combination that is unlike anything else I’ve heard. Run, listen to Little Flower now! – Kaia Kater
Sarah Siskind – Modern Appalachia
Sarah Siskind brought her luminous, Nashville-honed songwriting back home to North Carolina a few years ago and let the mountains speak through her. Leading an all-star Asheville band live off the floor at iconic Echo Mountain studio, she’s made a heart-swelling set of songs that gather her special melodic signature, her meticulous craft, and her insight into how a rich musical region is evolving. – Craig Havighurst
Emma Swift – Blonde on the Tracks
Emma Swift reminded the music world of the power that artists have to control their work when she self-released Blonde on the Tracks, an eight-song collection of Bob Dylan covers. Her interpretations are as powerful and innovative as her methodical and thoughtful initial distribution sans streaming services. – Erin McAnally
Julian Taylor – The Ridge
Mohawk singer-songwriter Julian Taylor resides in what is now referred to as Toronto, but his masterful country-folk record, The Ridge, hits your ear as if plucked directly from Taylor’s childhood summers spent on his grandparents’ farm in rural British Columbia. Refracted through Taylor’s crisp, modern arrangements and undiluted emotion, The Ridge seamlessly bridges the elephant-in-the-2020-room chasm between rural and urban — musically, familially, lyrically, and spiritually. – Justin Hiltner
Molly Tuttle, “Standing on the Moon”
2020 has handed us its fair share of cover albums, with stay-at-home orders urging many to reach for the familiar — but none have meshed a variety of musical sources so creatively as Molly Tuttle’s whimsical …but i’d rather be with you. Her version of “Standing on the Moon” is the nostalgic and homesick, Earth-loving galactic trip of my pedal steel-obsessed, Deadhead dreams. – Shelby Williamson
Cory Wong – Trail Songs (Dawn)
A record that I didn’t know I needed came in early August when Vulfpeck guitarist Cory Wong released Trail Songs (Dawn). A change of pace for Wong, it features predominantly acoustic instrumentation and organic sounds. The album kicks off with “Trailhead,” which sounds like a Dan Crary instrumental until the groove drops in the second verse. BGS standbys Chris Thile and Sierra Hull make appearances as an added bonus. – Jonny Therrien
Donovan Woods – “Seeing Other People”
We may seem unsentimental, stoic, unemotional — especially when faced with something like a partner moving on, or a breakup, when it may be easier to seem fine, have a pint, and download Tinder. Donovan’s gift in this song is to show those complicated “yes, and” internal thoughts and emotions. It is beautiful. – Tom Power
When it comes to capturing life’s big loves — romantic ones, sure, but also the love between siblings, parents, children, and friends — Lori McKenna is one of the strongest songwriters of our time. The Stoughton, Massachusetts-based singer finds fodder in the everyday moments that most of us overlook, reminding us that every day is worth singing about.
Her new album The Balladeer, produced by Dave Cobb, embraces the same openness, expert wordplay, and quiet wisdom that have become her hallmarks. “This Town Is a Woman” uses extended metaphor to reflect on the push-pull of a hometown. Perceptive songs like “When You’re My Age” and “Til You’re Grown” offer hope and direction to a younger generation, while “Good Fight” is an ode to hard-won, imperfect, lifelong love. The Balladeer shows McKenna at her best.
BGS caught up with McKenna by phone about where she found the courage to try open mic night, the advice she’d give to aspiring artists, and the family moments that keep her centered.
BGS: How did you first begin writing songs?
McKenna: I started writing songs with my two older brothers that were songwriters. They always wrote songs in their bedrooms and that’s what I would always do with my siblings. I grew up just outside of Boston and we were listening to singer/songwriters and talk radio and things like that, but not a lot of country music. But strangely enough, the first song I wrote was a country song about… a rodeo? [Laughs] My mother was like, Where did this come from? I joke now that I must’ve brought it along with me from another life.
How did that evolve into performing and writing professionally?
It was really unexpected. I’m sure my husband would say this as well, but I didn’t know that I could do music for a living. I never sang outside of our house, because I had such a strange voice — certainly, compared to my siblings, I have like the weirdest voice out of all of us. My siblings all sing so beautifully. [Laughs] I never thought that I really could do it.
I always say my kids really gave me the courage to really step out and try. I started doing open mics around here in the Boston area because we have this really great community of venues and a great acoustic or live music scene. But it was especially a surprise to me more than anybody else, that I could do this. It has been such a big part of my life since and I’m very thankful for it.
“This Town Is a Woman” finds so many ways to drive home the metaphor: “You curse her every time she tries to change / and when you’re not happy, you swear that she’s to blame,” which sounds like a tumultuous relationship, or “The way you talk is partly her fault / From the back roads to the church parking lot,” which sounds more motherly. What was the first example that clicked for you, that told you this was a comparison you could make?
The song came to me in a strange conversation that I had with Dave Cobb on the phone one day. He called, and he was talking about putting together a record of women singer/songwriters in the Nashville community. The next day, I was driving my daughter to school, and it just occurred to me that if a town could have a gender — you know, the way they name storms after women, or boats, or whatever — surely a town would be a woman. I mean, there’s just no question.
It’s very motherly, in my brain. She’s gonna let you grow up and push you out, but she’s gonna wait right there for you to come home if you need her. She’s always gonna see you as yourself. She’s gonna know things about you that nobody else knows. It’s that calling; that call of the blood, the call of the hometown. Springsteen talks about it in Springsteen on Broadway, how he couldn’t wait to get out of there and now he lives five minutes from where he grew up. We all have that in us. And if so, it’s definitely because … well, it’s a woman.
And you live in the same town where you grew up. What do you love about where you live?
I think there’s just something in my bones about New England; it would be hard for us to leave here. I live just up the road from where I grew up in this town — I could walk to my dad’s house — and my husband grew up here as well. Our kids had some of the same teachers we had. Family is such a big part of both of our lives. I’m the youngest of six kids. My mom passed away when I was little, and when that happened my family just hunkered in on each other. The older I get, the more I realize that my siblings are such a big part of my life. I need to be around them.
You write a lot about family, specifically about motherhood. You were young when your mother passed away, but is there any specific way you feel she shaped you, particularly as a writer?
There’s some sort of button that was pressed when we lost my mother. I had just turned seven, and when there’s a death of someone that big in a family, and you’re that young, everyone’s going to come up to you and explain that your emotion is warranted: This is a real emotion, you should have it, it’s your right to have it and own it. When kids have really blissful lives, everyone’s brushing off their emotions a lot. You’ll be okay. You fell, but you can get up. You don’t need a Band-Aid. You’re tough. But because at such a young age, I had this family around me that said, “You’re sad, and it’s okay,” it stuck with me. I gave my emotions, when they came to me, a little bit more space than some people are able to. Me having the right to a very powerful emotion at such a young age informed a lot about being a songwriter.
What advice would you give someone who’s just embarking on a career as a songwriter and artist?
The biggest thing they have to be careful of is not changing themselves to bend toward what is in style at the moment. I was so lucky, in so many ways, that I started so much later than everybody else. I was too set in my ways to change very much. Your best asset is to be yourself — nothing is going to be always right for everybody, so you might as well. I think with any kid growing up, they have to learn not to look at social media and feel like it’s a lesson book on how to be. You have to be who you are right this minute, and it may be different next year, but you still have to be who you are as an artist — even if it’s an artist that’s not ready.
You recorded the title track a little differently than the others on The Balladeer, two vocals singing in unison throughout. Why?
That was one of my favorite production moves of the record. It was Dave Cobb’s idea and I’ve never done it on a whole song before. Making demos over the years, there are times where you’ll double your vocal on a chorus, but that song actually doesn’t have a chorus. [Laughs] That’s the reason he thought to do that. He didn’t tell me he was going to do it: We tracked live, and when we finished, he said, go ahead and sing it again. I said, What do you mean? It’s over! You’re crazy! And it just came out so good. To a producer, a song like that, without a chorus, is a little bit of a challenge. And he just brought it to life.
The main character in that song struggles with an insecurity — the idea that if she stops being sad, she won’t be able to write. Have you encountered that fear in the songwriting world — in yourself or in collaborators?
I definitely have had that conversation with people over the years, and I’ve always been kind of the opposite of it. I’ve been so lucky in my career and in my life, and I’ve had so many blessings — things I don’t even know how I got so lucky to do. People sometimes ask me, “How are your songs so sad when you’re so happy?” … But I think your job as an artist or as a songwriter is to learn how to not always need the pain to be able to write. Pain cannot always have to inform your craft. Once I discovered that character in “The Balladeer,” I liked the idea of her being challenged by that, and then coming back and realizing that there is pain in life no matter what — it just doesn’t have to be all of it.
So many of your songs are a good reminder of that balance, the good and the bad. Right now, is there anything in your life that centers you when things get tough?
That’s such a good question, especially now, because we don’t really know what’s next. Every day is like four days, emotionally. This whole time and space thing is like… you forget what day of the month it is, but you’ve had four emotions before lunchtime. For me, I still draw from music, and I’ve had really, really great dinners in the backyard with my kids, because everyone’s slowed down a bit.
In the past, my husband and I have taken the kids on vacation, tried to do all these things to make all these moments. But this year my favorite moments have been sitting in the backyard, with takeout, and talking to each other. We’ve all had to slow down a little bit, and as scary as that seems sometimes, I’ve tried to find the beauty in it. Watching most people around me find the beauty in it has been rewarding, too.
The most acclaimed roots music artists are getting dressed up for the Americana Music Honors & Awards in Nashville. In addition to Elvis Costello, Bonnie Raitt, and Maria Muldaur (above), the following artists paused for a pic on the red carpet. See show photos.
Andrew Bird
Erin Rae
Ruston Kelly
The McCrary Sisters
Lori McKenna
J.S. Ondara
Michael Rinne
Josh Ritter
Photos by Jason Kempin/Getty Images for Americana Music Association
Drew Holcomb could lead quite a neighborhood association. Along with his band, The Neighbors, he collaborated with such all-star songwriters as Natalie Hemby, Sean McConnell, Lori McKenna, and The Lone Bellow’s Zach Wiliams for the band’s newest release, Dragons. Although it wrestles with some heavier themes — particularly dealing with grief and accepting that time moves faster as you get older — the record as a whole is an exhilarating listening experience that bridges the gap between the introspection of their prior albums and the dynamic of their live show.
As a friendly neighbor would do, Holcomb invited BGS for a cup of coffee near his home in East Nashville.
BGS: You did a lot of co-writing on this record and these songs have some real depth to them. Did you find yourself going into deep conversations as you were writing the songs?
DH: Yeah. Everybody I wrote with were friends. I still don’t love co-writing, but I like it with the right people. I already had a pretty clear vision of how I wanted to get intensely personal on this record. So when I wrote with Lori, for instance, we weren’t just writing songs for whoever, we were specifically writing for me and my record. She was able to draw things out of me while still letting me have the primary vision of what I wanted.
And yeah, there were a lot of great conversations. The song “Maybe” with Natalie was just… We were talking about how you have all these dreams you want to pursue, places you want to see, experiences you want to have — and as you get older, sometimes you think… you know, this is kind of exhausting. What I really want to do is, I just want to be with people I love, in the place that I love, and enjoy that.
That was pretty neat how you brought your granddad into the song “Dragons.” Did he really appear to you in a dream?
It’s sort of a mixture of dreams. I lost my brother when I was 17. I lost my grandfather when I was 23. Those were probably the two closest people to me. And I lost a friend to an overdose at 20. But everybody I’ve ever lost who was really close to me, I had very vivid dreams of them — and wake up super sad. They’re so real. You kind of relive the grief all over again, when you wake up.
But some of my dreams of my grandfather have been really sort of playful and fun. You know, because he lived a full life. There’s less sadness around that. I had those lines in the chorus of “Dragons” before we started the song, and was just looking for a way to deliver them, and that sort of attitude about life I got from my grandfather – to take chances, you only live once.
What’s that experience like when you write about your family — like your brother, your son, or your granddad — and then you play the song for your family?
Well, like “Dragons” — a lot of my siblings have their own experiences and their own histories with my granddad. So same question: “Is this a real dream?” And “Family” was one that everybody immediately fell in love with. I come from a huge family, I mean 14 to 28 grandkids on my mother’s side. It’s like beautiful chaos when we’re together. For the most part everybody gets along. There’s a lot of children, grandchildren, a lot of chaos. So that song, I think, really represents sort of my experience with family.
I love the line, “Going on vacation / On the credit card.” My dad loved to travel. And he would always say, “You’re never going to inherit any money, but I’ve made all my deposits in the memory bank.” Part of it was because of my brother in the wheelchair. Dad knew that maybe his time was shorter than the rest of us, so he wanted to take every opportunity. We had this big conversion van and every summer he’d take off two weeks and we would just go. I saw 44 states by the time I graduated high school.
Wow. And you were based in Chattanooga at the time?
Yeah. So we went off to California. Went to the Pacific Northwest. Went to Colorado and Texas, New Mexico, all the way up… We did a New England trip. We did all up in Canada. All of it driving.
Was there a music component to this, too?
Oh sure. Yeah, we’d listen to a lot of oldies radio. Back when tapes were still a thing, you could buy $5 tapes at the truck stop, and so he would let us all pick out a tape at the start of the trip. My favorite one I ever got was this Joe Cocker record. It had this Jimmy Webb song called “The Moon’s a Harsh Mistress.” And we had our Walkmans too. We’d play our tape and then we’d kind of take off on our own thing. In some ways, those road trips are where I fell in love with music. Dad loved Dylan, so we listened to a lot of the sort of pop songwriter guys.
Were you playing guitar by this point too?
Started to. Got my first guitar when I was 12. Really started to learn how to play at 14. By high school, I was proficient enough to play through most of the songs I liked.
Did you just teach yourself?
I had a friend who was really one of those “play everything” guys — Jonathan. He played piano, guitar, drums. He lived down the street. He kind of taught me. I took lessons but the lessons never really caught, because it was more like theory and stuff. I was like, “No, I just want to play some Bob Seger.”
When did you get interested in vinyl records?
My wife’s wedding present to me was a record player. And then my first job was in music, as a sort of studio runner for a guy named Paul Ebersold, a producer. He and Ellie kind of conspired. She went and got me the record player. He went and bought me a bunch of classics — Born to Run, Blood on the Tracks, Van Morrison, all the stuff he knew I loved. Then on our honeymoon, we went out to San Francisco and went to Amoeba Records there in Haight-Ashbury. We spent like $500 on vinyl, shipped it all home, and that was sort of the start for us.
You launched the Magnolia Record Club now and you curate the Moon River Music Festival. That’s all interesting to me because it’s about music discovery. Why is that important to you, to help people discover music?
I think in some ways it’s like a pay-it-back, or paying forward. That’s how people found me, was by someone, some curator, taking a chance and putting me in front of listeners. I had never had a radio hit. Never really had a big national tour. Done some tours with friends, but I never had the machine, but I still made it because a lot of festival buyers and legacy acts and younger bands have shared their stages with me, and shared their audiences with me.
On the press side too — we’ve never blown up in the press, but we’ve had lots of people give us a lot of healthy attention. We played Bonnaroo in 2013 and I still have people all the time come up to me and say, “I first heard you at Bonnaroo.” That happens at all the different festivals we play. And so, I wanted to create that same sort of opportunity, but also I wanted to do it as a fan. I wanted to put these bills together.
We talked about this a little bit, about how you found your audience. But it seems to me that part of that is that you showed up for everything. You really took it seriously from the start. Where do you get that work ethic from?
I think part of it is that my dad always instilled this “work hard at all costs” in me. It was like, I’m going to get beat on talent — and that was definitely true when I was younger. I may get beat on opportunity, and with who you know. Nobody’s going to out-work me.
My first vehicle that I toured in was a 1998 Volvo station wagon. I bought it in 2003 with 64,000 miles on it. And in 2008, five years later, it died at 380,000 miles. I put 320,000 miles on it in five years, driving anywhere anybody would book me. I played 200 to 250 shows a year: coffee shops, living rooms, cover songs at bars, college campuses. Whether I was getting paid fifty bucks or a thousand bucks during that era, it was like, the only way to do this is to show up as often as possible.
Hungry for new music? Here’s another serving of The Highwomen, harmonizing effortlessly on “Crowded Table.” A co-write with Lori McKenna and band members Brandi Carlile and Natalie Hemby, it’s from their upcoming self-titled album, produced by Dave Cobb and set for a September 6 release. (Take a look at the track listing at the bottom of the story.)
The band, of course, is composed of Carlile, Hemby, Maren Morris, and Amanda Shires. But who else is crowded around the table? Sheryl Crow, Jason Isbell, and Yola are all confirmed to appear on the album, as well as Carlile’s longtime musical partners Phil Hanseroth (bass, background vocals) and Tim Hanseroth (guitar, background vocals), Chris Powell (drums) and Peter Levin (piano and keyboards).
Look for The Highwomen this weekend at Newport Folk Festival, their only scheduled appearance.
1. “Highwomen” (written by Brandi Carlile, Amanda Shires, Jimmy Webb) 2. “Redesigning Women” (written by Natalie Hemby, Rodney Clawson) 3. “Loose Change” (written by Maren Morris, Maggie Chapman, Daniel Layus) 4. “Crowded Table” (written by Brandi Carlile, Natalie Hemby, Lori McKenna) 5. “My Name Can’t Be Mama” (written by Brandi Carlile, Maren Morris, Amanda Shires) 6. “If She Ever Leaves Me” (written by Amanda Shires, Jason Isbell, Chris Thompkins) 7. “Old Soul” (written by Maren Morris, Luke Dick, Laura Veltz) 8. “Don’t Call Me” (written by Amanda Shires, Peter Levin) 9. “My Only Child” (written by Natalie Hemby, Amanda Shires, Miranda Lambert) 10. “Heaven Is A Honky Tonk” (written by Brandi Carlile, Natalie Hemby, Ray LaMontagne) 11. “Cocktail And A Song” (written by Amanda Shires) 12. “Wheels Of Laredo” (written by Brandi Carlile, Tim Hanseroth, Phil Hanseroth)
Lori McKenna, John Prine, The War and Treaty, and Yola are among the artists nominated in multiple categories for the 18th annual Americana Honors & Awards, to be held on September 11 in Nashville.
Meanwhile, Dave Cobb produced three of the four albums in the Album of the Year category. In addition, Rhiannon Gidden received nominations for Artist of the Year, while her ensemble Our Native Daughters earned a Duo/Group of the Year nod.
A full list of categories and nominees for the Americana Music Association’s 18th annual Americana Honors & Awards is below:
ALBUM OF THE YEAR: To the Sunset, Amanda Shires, produced by Dave Cobb The Tree, Lori McKenna, produced by Dave Cobb The Tree of Forgiveness, John Prine, produced by Dave Cobb Walk Through Fire, Yola, produced by Dan Auerbach
ARTIST OF THE YEAR: Brandi Carlile Rhiannon Giddens Kacey Musgraves Mavis Staples
DUO/GROUP OF THE YEAR: I’m With Her Our Native Daughters Tedeschi Trucks Band The War and Treaty
EMERGING ACT OF THE YEAR: Jade Bird J.S. Ondara Erin Rae The War and Treaty Yola
INSTRUMENTALIST OF THE YEAR: Chris Eldridge Eamon McLoughlin Chris Powell Michael Rinne
SONG OF THE YEAR: “By Degrees,” Mark Erelli, Rosanne Cash, Sheryl Crow, Lori McKenna, Anais Mitchell & Josh Ritter, written by Mark Erelli “Mockingbird,” Ruston Kelly, written by Ruston Kelly “People Get Old,” Lori McKenna, written by Lori McKenna “Summer’s End,” John Prine, written by Pat McLaughlin and John Prine
In addition, the Americana Music Association honors distinguished members of the music community with six member-voted annual awards and with Lifetime Achievement Awards, which will be announced leading up to the event. The Milk Carton Kids and Mavis Staples unveiled this year’s nominations in Nashville.
The winners of each category will be announced during the Americana Honors & Awards at the historic Ryman Auditorium. Americanafest runs from Sept. 10-15. Tickets for the Americana Honors & Awards are currently only available for purchase by Americanafest conference registrants.
Photo credit for John Prine: Danny Clinch
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