An Incomparable Album, ‘White Noise/White Lines’ Is the Kelsey Waldon Experience

I’ve had the good fortune of knowing Kentuckian country queen-in-waiting Kelsey Waldon for almost the entire time I’ve lived in Nashville — more than eight years at the time of this writing. I’ve stood over her unfathomably enormous cast iron skillet, filled to the brim with bubbling, sizzling battered fish. I’ve sung harmony on one too many choruses of “Smoky Mountain Memories” after perhaps one too many slugs of Kentucky straight bourbon whiskey with her, too. 

And yet, in listening to her brand new album, White Noise/White Lines, I still found myself picking up fresh tidbits of her extraordinary yet downright ordinary approach to musicmaking, songwriting, self-expression, and artistic exploration. Waldon, despite limitless comparisons to almost every female country forebear to ever growl through a lyric, remains a paragon unto herself, a true singularity in realms of American roots music. 

White Noise/White Lines cements the fact (which has always been plain as day to those who dug deep enough) that Waldon will refuse tidy, one-for-one comparisons to any/all other country stars and writers who have come before her or who count themselves among her contemporaries. Except perhaps two: Loretta Lynn — whose “Coal Miner’s Daughter” inspired Waldon’s own “Kentucky, 1988” — and John Prine. The latter is fitting, in so many ways, now that Waldon makes her label home with Oh Boy Records, label of the denizen of Kentucky songs, meat and threes, and plain spoken oracle-like wisdom through lyrics. 

A brief album by many measures, White Noise/White Lines captures technicolor moments of Waldon’s life, her joys, her musings, and her homeplace, encouraging listeners to lean into the record’s brevity and engage wholly with each constituent moment therein. Because truth needs no more than a moment.

For BGS I made the trek out to Waldon’s cabin outside of Nashville and after a quick stroll around the vegetable gardens and a tour of the many Kentucky-themed decor items imported from one state north, we settled in the kitchen, sipping water out of mason jars, to talk.

People routinely refer to you as being similar to Loretta, similar to Tammy Wynette, Kitty Wells, Patsy Cline. People are constantly making these comparisons to these kind of foremothers of country and I wonder how that makes you feel, to be a bookend against someone like Loretta or Tammy Wynette?

Kelsey Waldon: Honestly, I think that’s an incredible compliment. Those are all, you know, my sisters that have gone before me, women that I’ve looked up to quite a bit. Especially in the country music realm. However, I also kind of feel like, especially with this new record, I think it’s apparent that hopefully I’m also finding quite a bit of my own thing. 

Sometimes when people say things like that to me it’s like, well maybe their scope of country music isn’t that wide. When someone would be like, “You sound like Patsy Cline!” I’d be like, “Uh, no I don’t.” [Laughs] I mean, I love Patsy Cline and I hold her up as something sacred, I wouldn’t ever even sing Patsy just because nothing touches that. 

I think it can kind of be, dare I say, a lazy comparison to just kind of name [some popular woman country star.] It’s definitely there. Even sonically, I was so inspired by them. Especially Loretta, absolutely.

I hope the new record showcases that with the years we’ve spent on the road — just using even my own touring band. It starts at country with me, I can’t just flip off a light switch and say, “Oh, it’s not country!” I guess some people can do that, but I don’t see it that way. Country is just so much embedded in me. No matter what form my artistic expression comes out, that’s still gonna be there. It just may not be cookie cutter, it may not be formulated. It may not even sound exactly like that. One thing that I think the growth of this record shows, hopefully, is that these are my songs, I’m not a throwback artist. I’m not a retro artist. I am an artist making music in 2019.

I did want to talk about your band, I think it’s remarkable. It’s getting more and more rare that folks tour with the folks who played on the record, because — and it’s not the fault of anybody — they’re trying to make money on the road. So if they stack their record, of course they aren’t bringing those people on tour. Why is it a priority for you to have the same band?

There are obviously all of these amazing musicians out there who are session musicians and a lot of people I’ve been fortunate enough to play with myself. I’ve learned a lot from [them]. This time around, this was always a goal of mine, to have a record that had a band I wanted on it. I worked really hard to find the band to really fit those pieces together. It took me a while…  just trying to figure out really what I wanted. My last record, I’ve Got A Way, caused the right people to gravitate towards my music. I mean, I eventually found the band that I have now because they heard those earlier records and they were like, “I would love to be a part of this.”

The band I have now, which is Mike Khalil, Nate Felty, and Alec Newnam — and Brett Resnick played on the record, but he doesn’t get to play with us a lot anymore, he plays with Kacey Musgraves, which is wonderful. But with the band I have now I just knew it. I was like, “I think this is it.” We all knew it. Even Brett. People were like, “We think this is the right combination.”

In that way, too, there’s nothing wrong at all with using session players, I just think, honestly — and I might be a little biased — my band is just as good as any. I think they could, and they will be one day, they will be those session players. They care so much about their craft and they work hard. I’m very lucky. 

One of the things that excites me most about this record is that I’ve always heard the bluegrass influences in your music, but they’re really forward in this record. Especially in your rhythm playing, in your rhetorical style in your writing, in your vocal phrasing, even in the arrangements with the twin fiddles and there are a couple of “fast waltzes” on the record. I love that “Lived and Let Go” really could be played on bluegrass radio. 

I think that is such a huge compliment, thank you.

It’s bluegrass! I wanted to ask, and not just because we’re The Bluegrass Situation, but in general, because this is a huge part of the canon of music you reference and that you listen to. Who in the bluegrass sphere influences you now and who has in the past — and I’m gathering Ola Belle Reed is at least one of them. 

I love Ola Belle, obviously, we did an Ola Belle song on the record. Well, I love that you can pick that out. To me, I feel like it’s plain as day that there’s a bluegrass influence all over it. To some people it’s not as apparent, I guess. I’ve had some people just be like, “What is this thing that you’re doing?” It’s because they don’t listen to bluegrass. I’m like, “I STOLE that!” [Laughs]

I guess I understand now why they don’t put those two together, if you’re talking about mainstream country, because that’s clearly not. But to me, I’m always like, “Of course bluegrass is country.” It’s also bluegrass, but it’s also country.  It’s like the OG country music. 

I would say one of my favorite influences, one of my favorite singers ever, is Dale Ann Bradley. She’s up there for me. I really think Dale Ann should be a legend, honestly. And Ralph Stanley, and obviously I love Bill [Monroe], and Jim & Jesse, and all those groups. And early Keith Whitley, I’ve been obsessed with that for a long time. 

I think it’s interesting that you mention both Ralph and Keith back to back like that, because you can hear elements of both of their vocal phrasing and vocal techniques, in what you do singing-wise. 

The same thing with Dale Ann. They have such unique registers of their voices and it’s something that I really relate to. Sometimes I didn’t really know what it was that I was doing. I could kind of hear my own voice in [their vocals]. If that makes sense? I could really relate to that. It’s so soulful. 

I feel like Keith could sing on anything. [Laughs] He sounded exactly like Keith. That’s the beautiful thing about a country singer to me, he could sing on an R&B track and it would be sexy as hell. It’s like George Jones — and Dolly can sing on anything, as far as I’m concerned. That’s a great singer, to me. Ralph, I’ve always said that he is like the Pop Staples of mountain music. It’s like he doesn’t even have to be loud, but he is so loud. He’s barely singing. He’s just projecting. I love Flatt & Scruggs as well. 

New artists… Molly Tuttle, I love what she’s doing. That new record. She’s really taking a genre and making it her own. Something that’s not worn out or tired. Doing something fresh. She has accomplished making this new for people. In my own way, I hope to do that as well. 

I don’t guess there’s anybody else completely new, besides like Sister Sadie, and Dale Ann! [Laughs] They are some BAD girls!! Dale Ann, man. The mark of a true artist is that she can sing all of the covers she does. Like I said, I think Dale Ann should be a legend. 

Words are clearly your priority in your songwriting. You’re prioritizing what you’re meaning to say first and foremost, then making the melody and music and everything work around what you’re trying to say. It sounds effortless when you listen to it, but I wonder what kind of intention goes into that?

Songwriting is kind of interesting to me in that way. I’ve actually heard a couple people be like, “It sounds effortless.” Sometimes, it is effortless and you’re just like, “Wow that kind of poured out of me. I didn’t realize it was in there but it poured out of me in like five to ten minutes.” With this record, though, there were definitely a couple of things I had to go back to. I had the meat and taters, but there were a couple of things I rewrote and made sure made exactly the sense I wanted them to make. There’s a balance there, too. You don’t want to kind of go too far, over-analyzing the whole thing.

With “Kentucky, 1988,” I think your songwriting up to this point has felt so personal, and so tightly intertwined with who you are, that I almost didn’t realize that you hadn’t written this exact kind of song, yet. What brought you to the point of wanting to be that direct with telling your origin story? Was it more intuitive or more purposeful?

That was definitely purposeful. That is awesome that you’ve observed that, because I’ve felt the exact same way. I was writing new songs and I felt like, “You know, I haven’t written my ‘Coal Miner’s Daughter.’” I don’t really have something that is kind of like this definitive origin story. I just set out to write it. The title was actually kind of inspired by someone I forgot to mention, Larry Sparks — one of my favorite singers. 

Oh my gosh!! “Tennessee, 1949!!” 

Yeah! Yeah, it was inspired by that. That and a Tom T. Hall song that has Kentucky and a year in the title, with the comma and everything. In my head all of that sounded so cool. Everything about it, the rhythmic feel, it all rolled right off my tongue great. I just had to write it. People always [say], “That’s very vulnerable and transparent.” Well yeah, isn’t that what we’re supposed to do? [Laughs]

I know a lot of artists say this, but I definitely think this is the most personal thing I’ve done so far. I think all of it has been very transparent, in a way. I want to completely embrace that. I want to be as much of a freak as I want to be. It’s not like I was afraid to before, I just don’t think that I was ready. My mom always said I was a late bloomer, but she said, “When you bloom, baby, you’ll bloom!”  

I did want to ask you about the significance of the Chickasaw Nation members singing on the record. We hear them at the end of “White Noise, White Lines.” What’s the personal significance of that for you? And are you a tribal member? Is anybody in your family a tribal member? 

No. All of the Rollins side of my family, which is my granny’s side, they were all of French and Native American descent, but I never claimed anything like that. I just think it’s been something that’s been such a part of where I grew up, culturally. Even just hunting for points [arrowheads] and having such a respect for that way of life and culture. 

It’s always really hard to keep this story short, when people ask me about the song, because I wrote it right after this amazing experience I had back home in Monkey’s Eyebrow, Kentucky, my hometown. When I went back to watch a ceremonial dance that the Chickasaw from Ada, Oklahoma [performed]. They came to re-bless the Wickliffe Mounds. They ended up lodging at my Dad’s that night, for free, [he was] cooking the food, doing the catering and stuff. I ended up staying down there and visiting.

We just became friends with the members of the tribe. We had so much fun. They’ve kept in touch… My dad took them arrowhead hunting for the first time, and they were doing ceremonial dances out on my dad’s land as well. I think he really really was appreciative of that. We were kind of the only people who ever lived down there in those river bottoms, maybe besides [the Chickasaw]. I mean, it’s the river bottoms. That’s why we find all these artifacts. No one has been down there except us. 

I just remember thinking about how awesome the weekend had been and the radio had been on white noise for literally fifteen minutes and I had no idea. I was just in this tranquil moment. The song is just a detail of all these things. The solar eclipse had also blown my mind that weekend. Just realizing how small we actually are, compared to what is even going on in this universe. 

Naturally, I included the details. “Chickasaw man got a buffalo skin drum,” because Ace — Ace Greenwood and Jesse Lindsey, that’s who’s on the song — actually did have a buffalo skin drum. It was pretty badass. My dad asked them to sing some songs on the porch. I love Ace’s voice, it reminds me of Ralph Stanley. It’s a voice that just feels like it’s been there for a long time. It’s so pure. I just loved it, I was really touched.

He sang a song that had been in his family for generations. The message of the song was basically, “Though I’m far away I’m still near you. No matter where I am. We are together.” In that moment that really was something I needed to hear. I put that [on the record] not only because I thought it was beautiful, and I wanted people to experience what I felt, but I also wanted the record to feel like an experience. 

Ace told me one time when we were down there that the media likes to tell his people who they are and that’s not who they are. I think in a way, perhaps it’s also why I thought it would be really beautiful to have that at the end as well. I hope it doesn’t seem like it was for my own reasons, I guess. I was just writing about that weekend and I felt like it was so beautiful to me I wanted it to be documented. 

I think it makes a lot of sense. And I’m not saying it’s not a complicated thing to talk about, or that it doesn’t trip into some territory that we as settlers will never fully understand, but I do think that it follows perfectly with you bringing your whole entire self to your music. So much of what you do is tied to place and is tied to coming from Kentucky. 

That was another part of it, showcasing where I’m from. And the cultural background of it. 

And not just the colonial background of where you’re from? 

No. I mean absolutely not. To me, that’s exactly how I saw it. Nail on the head. It might cause a little bit of question, but I think that’s good. ‘Cause then I’ll get asked about it. And then I’ll tell ‘em. [Laughs] 


Photos by Laura Partain for BGS. See the entire photo story.

Shaun Richardson & Seth Taylor, “Chisholm”

An expansive generation of simply ludicrous flatpickers has rendered bluegrass, old-time, Americana, and folk replete with acoustic guitar virtuosos. Pickers like Jake Stargel, Molly Tuttle, Presley Barker, and Billy Strings each have in common commanding right hands and withering technique. Others, like Jake Workman, Trey Hensley, and Chris Luquette play at incomprehensible, blistering speeds with pristine precision that defies explanation — down to the most infinitesimal note durations. We can clearly see the shredtastic legacies of Clarence White, Tony Rice, Dan Tyminski, and others living on, even if chiefly through their more mathematical, aggressive, and adventurous methods and tones. 

That adventurous aggression might just be why “Chisholm,” a new tune composed by guitarists Shaun Richardson and Seth Taylor, feels like such a calming breath of fresh air. It’s a welcome counterpoint and complement to the repeated face-peeling-off that we all enjoy in this current golden age of flatpicking guitar. Richardson and Taylor are both veterans of Dailey & Vincent’s bluegrass-based rootsy stage show, giving them ample experience in musical code-switching, from fiddle tunes and swinging numbers to country ballads and passionate gospel. Richardson has performed with Michael Martin Murphey as well, and Taylor is a member of the long-running, heady, Americana-tinged bluegrass group Mountain Heart. 

The versatility lent by these diverse experiences gives “Chisholm” a well-traveled, though relaxed, voluminous vibe. The melodies are resonant and tactile, conjuring six-string players and composers such as John Carlini and Beppe Gambetta — with just a dash of Tommy Emmanuel. Jazz complexities are utilized here not in a gratuitous way, but rather anchored in expressiveness and musical dialogue. Richardson and Taylor’s expertise is very clearly centered not on simply displaying prowess, but in musicality. In this calmer, more subdued setting, that dynamic is especially refreshing and subtly striking.


Photo and video shot by James Shipman

Exclusive: Bluegrass Underground Reveals Season X Lineup

The Bluegrass Situation is pleased to announce the artists for Bluegrass Underground’s milestone Season X on PBS. From March 27 through March 29, the Bluegrass Underground TV taping from The Caverns in Pelham, Tennessee will treat music fans to performances by the finest in roots music and Americana.

This special 10th anniversary taping features cutting-edge singer-songwriters Cam, Yola, Courtney Marie Andrews, and Sam Lewis, and harmonious duos Mandolin Orange and three-time Grammy-nominated Milk Carton Kids, as well as legends like Asleep at the Wheel and Blind Boys of Alabama, and rising stars like bluegrass phenom Molly Tuttle, groove-driven jam band Goose, and psychedelic soul group Black Pumas, plus a surprise act to be announced in the coming weeks.

Jam-packed into one epic weekend of underground concerts, the performances will be captured for the 10th anniversary of the multiple Emmy Award-winning Bluegrass Underground series on PBS. To be in attendance at the 3-day live taping event is a music lover’s ultimate experience. The milestone Season X will premiere in the fall of 2020 on PBS stations nationwide.

“It’s amazing that Bluegrass Underground is the second-longest music series on American Public Television,” says Todd Mayo, Bluegrass Underground creator and co-producer. “And we look forward to the next 10 years of partnering with PBS in presenting the quality and diversity of roots music from one of the most iconic music destinations in the world, The Caverns in Grundy County, Tennessee.”

Three-Day & Single-Day Tickets go on sale on Friday, November 22 at 11 am CT at TheCaverns.com

Here’s the lineup for Bluegrass Underground Season X PBS TV Taping in The Caverns:

March 27:

Molly Tuttle: An artist on the leading edge of bluegrass music, steeped in tradition while driving the genre forward in today’s musical landscape.

Goose: This New England band’s mix of rock, funk, tropical grooves and extended jams will turn The Caverns into a subterranean dance party.

Cam: From a GRAMMY nomination to headlining the Ryman Auditorium, this multi-platinum country singer-songwriter is a force to be reckoned with.

Asleep at the Wheel: Ray Benson has now been leading a Western Swing band longer than Bob Wills, and he brings his iconic group to The Caverns for their 50th Anniversary Tour. Historic.

March 28:

Sam Lewis: Best-known for touring and collaborating with Chris Stapleton (who helped inaugurate Bluegrass Underground in 2008), this singer-songwriter is one of the defining talents of modern Americana.

Courtney Marie Andrews: Powerful vocals, passionate songs from one of today’s finest singer-songwriters.

The Milk Carton Kids: One of Americana’s best live acts, the duo of singer/guitarists Kenneth Pattengale and Joey Ryan combine close harmonies, wonderful original songs and humor.

TBA: Bluegrass Underground will be announcing the day’s fourth artist in coming weeks. Who doesn’t love a surprise?

March 29:

● Blind Boys of Alabama: A rousing Sunday in The Caverns with the five-time GRAMMY Award-winning gospel group that helped create the genre.

● Black Pumas: Austin, Texas is known for its dynamic live music scene. Black Pumas are the city’s leading soul/funk band. Enough said.

● Yola: Demolishing genre with her evocative voice and debut record Walk Through Fire, Yola establishes herself as the Queen of Country Soul from the very first note.

● Mandolin Orange: Intimate and emotional, the music of multi-instrumental duo Emily Frantz and songwriter Andrew Marlin draws you into their world with a sound that floats like a butterfly, but speaks to the heart.


While the national festival season remains in hibernation, Bluegrass Underground and The Caverns will welcome spring to the rolling hills of Tennessee with its unique, world-renowned combination of top artists, award-winning sound and lighting production, and breathtaking natural beauty, creating an underground festival experience like none other. Bluegrass Underground events feature a clean and comfortable, fan-friendly environment, complete with high-quality concessions and beverage offerings, including craft beers.

Tickets & travel packages and Stay-and-Cave hotel packages make for a perfect and easy getaway weekend. Packages include the best seats to all tapings, lodging accommodations for two, transportation to and from the venue, food, and commemorative merchandise. There is no better way to experience the Bluegrass Underground tapings than a Stay-and-Cave package. Packages and tickets will go on sale on Friday, November 22nd at 11am central at TheCaverns.com

Bluegrass Underground is underwritten on PBS by Tennessee Tourism and by Grundy County, Tennessee. The 12-episode series is presented to PBS nationally in partnership with WCTE in Cookeville, Tennessee, which serves the Upper Cumberland and Middle Tennessee.

Letting Go of Time: My Soundtrack for a Year with Cancer

Many of the facets of the music industry are the way they are simply because they are the way they are, but there is one pillar of melodic and lyrical art-making that remains extraordinarily arbitrary.

Time.

Records are released on Fridays now. Except when they aren’t. Some release days are packed with albums and others are desolate. Festival season coincides with the weather-outside-is-bearable season — except when it doesn’t. Holiday records are recorded in the summer. Lead time is inflexible, though ever-changing. Deadlines are always drop-dead… until they aren’t.

Time has gone from being regarded as something that inevitably passes to being framed as a commodity that can be “spent.” Time is money, especially in this gig economy era and in creative spaces where sentiments like “If you love what you do, you don’t work a day in your life!” rapidly devolve into a workaholic culture. We’ve seen the dissolution of boundaries between professional and personal lives, and made constant comparisons to those we perceive as more productive and ambitious.

My relationship with time — from each basic, incessant twitch of the clock’s second hand to my holistic understanding of existential time — changed fundamentally and cataclysmically in August 2018 when I was diagnosed with rectal cancer. In the earliest days my doctors told me that I would “lose a year of my life” fighting the disease. Being naive, new to the realms of life-threatening illness and the omnipresent physical, mental, and spiritual alterations of such diagnoses, I believed them.

Over the months that followed, time passed not linearly, but as if it were a roller coaster operating in many more than just three dimensions, with twists, turns, and corkscrews I never considered possible. The associated cognitive impairments of cancer — from chemotherapy, an inordinate amount of prescription drugs, and the related traumas of fighting the disease — exacerbated my willy-nilly tumble through the twelve months that landed me here, writing this. Now, just over a year post-diagnosis and almost four months in remission, I am free of cancer (though not technically “cancer-free”).

Cancer is an arbitrary demon in and of itself, and as such, it’s very good at reminding: If something need not be arbitrary, perhaps it ought not to be. A rectal cancer diagnosis in an otherwise healthy 26-year-old is a perfect example. Humans cannot help trying to force such a thing to make sense, to have a direct cause and effect, but in this case and in many, many others it doesn’t. And it never will.

Before the final months of the 2010s elapse and we find ourselves reliving the year — and the decade — in music; while I find myself emerging from the fog of a year of pain, loss, and grief, a year fighting for my life and coming out ahead, I offer you this year-end wrap up. Not of 2019, but of a year fighting cancer. This is a soundtrack. For a few more than 365 days (and many more to come) of a queer banjo player, songwriter, and music writer holding onto life and letting go of time.

“Soon You’ll Get Better” — Taylor Swift feat. Dixie Chicks (2019)

In my eyes, the single most resonant line of any song released in the past year must be, “You’ll get better soon, ‘cause you have to.”

There’s this general, almost universal understanding of cancer, from a societal standpoint, that often does more harm than good. Almost everyone has a simplistic, rudimentary handle on what cancer is, what it means, and how to operate in relation to it. We’ve been fed countless narratives on the subject in the media, in fiction, non-fiction, through science, by the Hallmark Channel — you name it. One of the most frustrating outgrowths of this well-intentioned, though often tactless and somewhat misinformed understanding is that fighting cancer is noble. That it’s a holy war, a righteous baring of the teeth in the face of mortality and abject suffering and the quickened unraveling of existence.

But that is not how it feels. At least not to this survivor. Fighting cancer isn’t honorable. It’s necessary.

There is no choice.

It is exist or cease to exist. Because we romanticize storylines, dynamics in which “pulling the plug” seems like an actual option; because of faith systems that predicate moral truth on the existence of an afterlife; because we have heartbreaking, gut-wrenching tales of friends and family who opted for less pain, without treatment, than more time in misery with it; because there are all too many folks who shine, choosing joy against the odds, facing terminal diagnoses with bravery and aplomb, we think that the battle is wholesome, good, and virtuous.

I can tell you it is not. We get better because we have to. Sadly, there are too many who don’t. Because they can’t. Not because they are any less “noble” than those of us who “win” the fight. Not because they made a choice to give up the fight.

Choosing between being and ceasing to be is not a choice.

“The Capitalist Blues” — Leyla McCalla (2019)

Besides pain, discomfort, fear, and grief, the most present phenomenon to accompany cancer is bills. Piles and piles and piles of window envelopes. Emails. Push notifications chiming, “YOU HAVE A NEW STATEMENT.”

Each time my health insurance denied a claim on the grounds of some aspect of my care not being “medically necessary” — is the contrast used in my CT scans truly not necessary? — each time a prescription fell outside of coverage, often to the tune of hundreds and hundreds of dollars, my body and visage would grimace as if twisted from the pain of a 5cm mass in my colon.

To know, to see in plain daylight, that other human beings are getting rich off of my fight for life, causes such visceral anger and, in the wake of that anger, something that can only be described as the capitalist blues. Leyla McCalla’s wonky, off-kilter, Big Easy sound herein is a perfect wry smile in the face of a daunting, insurmountable task such as holding capitalism accountable. We’re all swimming with sharks and it’s a cold, cold world — even at the doctor’s.

“Anyone at All” — Maya de Vitry (2019)

As if to mock me, the electric guitar joins the band with a tick-tocking hook. Maya de Vitry’s narrator (however autobiographical) hasn’t been seeing anyone at all, hasn’t been drinking much at all, hasn’t been crying in the mornings, and she’s tired of hearing folks tell her it’s going to get harder.

Believe her. (Believe me.) It’s always been hard.

I spent the majority of a year at home, in my apartment, in bed, alone. Which is not to say I haven’t been supported throughout this journey by my friends, family, peers, colleagues, et cetera. It’s just that cancer is isolating in many, many more ways than one, and each of those sly, constituent methods of enforcing solitude conspire together to relegate us to these lonely spaces. Hearing de Vitry rejoice in them, embracing them, laughing in the face of what others, outsiders, might perceive as weakness and wallowing is not only redemptive, it’s liberating. I’ll see your “Have you been seeing anybody?” and raise you an “It’s been a couple of days since I’ve seen anyone at all!”

“Fixed” — Mary Bragg (2018)

The world teaches us how to regard ourselves, our bodies, our minds, our personhoods. We often don’t even realize this dictation is happening, but it is. Let me tell you, cancer brings out the worst in these tendencies, these trained reflexes. While Bragg’s message seems geared toward a childlike listener faced with society’s beauty standards, with dynamics of insiders and outsiders, cool and uncool, conformist and eccentric, I found myself returning to that refrain, “You don’t have to be fixed” over and over.

While my body image issues and low self-esteem run amok, fed on a glut of internalized ableism and materialism and superficiality and shame, the reminder in those lyrics that there is no one right way to be human, to be embodied, to be hurt or to be healed, was simply uncanny. Packaged with Bragg’s pristine, orchestrated arrangement and her powerfully tender voice, it’s a mantra in a song that we could all add to our quiver of weapons with which we face the world.

“Bad Mind” — Erin Rae (2018)

This song sounds like Ativan feels. Glossy and ethereal. The panned, double-tracked vocals, just distant enough in the mix, giving the impression that her voice is nearby, but out of reach. I was prescribed Ativan after being hospitalized due to complications from my first round of chemotherapy, namely that my nausea medications didn’t seem to be effective — until we brought Ativan on board.

That’s right, Ativan is prescribed for nausea. It’s also an effective anxiety medication, a strong benzodiazepine that’s often taken recreationally, but it’s a depressant. A strong, unyielding, psychoactive drug that guarantees dependency as a result of regular use. For months I was on an astronomical dose, without knowing it was considered high, to curb my incessant nausea.

I took two “cancer break” vacations during treatment. During the first, a country music cruise in the Caribbean, I cried myself to sleep every night. On the first night of the second trip, a solo getaway to the Bahamas, I wrote in my journal, through tears, “Perhaps I’m too depressed to enjoy an island paradise?”

As the lyrics in verse two reference indirectly, growing up gay in a conservative — and in my case, evangelical — family teaches you quite rapidly that your mind is bad. Very bad. Which, in quite a predictable turn, caused an anxiety disorder and clinical depression that I’ve been battling for more than a decade now. At times I was convinced that the problem of my erratic and burdensome mental health was simply due to my bad mind.

Ativan sank me to depths beyond those that I thought were possible. At its worst, beneath every word I spoke, beneath every layer of my thoughts, there was a constant suicidal hum. My prior struggles with suicidal ideation couldn’t even prepare me for the surprise of realizing, in some deep, hidden catacomb of my psyche, that I was fantasizing about taking my own life.

After chemo and radiation, when my nausea began to subside, I made getting off of Ativan my number one goal. I didn’t want to have a bad mind anymore. After seven months of three pills a day and after weeks of titrating, lowering my dose bit by bit to wean my dependent body and brain off of the potent, depressing, stomach-settling drug, I took my last Ativan in the hospital, after surgery to remove the mass.

It’s worth mentioning, for my sake and others’, there is no such thing as a bad mind.

“Sleepwalking” — Molly Tuttle (2019)

This year truly felt like sleepwalking. Through a world that disappeared.

In the Bahamas, after a month of daily radiation sessions and a mere handful of weeks before my operation, I walked straight into the Atlantic until the cold, steel blue water covered my head. I pleaded, I begged the sea to carry me away. To be allowed to float away with my fears. I cried into the saltwater.

Each time, as I listen to Tuttle’s voice — not angelic, no, but cosmic — grasping for the highest altitudes of her breathy vibrato, I hear my own personal flailing. My desperation to find an anchor, to not be woken up, to be left fantasizing about drifting away on the waves and the sounds of a voice that is that anchor, that is the one thing coming in clear through the static.

Another lesson learned from cancer: sometimes, you have to be your own anchor.

“Sit Here and Love Me” — Caroline Spence (2019)

My own helplessness over the last year was somewhat expected, but I was surprised that it wasn’t simply typified by the inability to help myself. There’s a deep, despairing helplessness found when you wish you could help others help you. To alleviate their helplessness. And I couldn’t. So often all I could do to help others help me was to ask them, with all of the kindness and compassion I could muster, to just sit here and love me.

I did not anticipate the hot, searing pain of telling my mother — a kind, generous, selfless woman who would admit time and time again, “If I could take your place, I would in a heartbeat” — telling her not merely once, but time and again, “This isn’t a problem you can solve. I just need you to hear me and love me.”

I know you hate to see me cry… and to hurt, and to fade into the nothingness of a round of chemotherapy, and to face doctors telling me my life and my body will be forever changed, and to know that there’s nothing you can do to step in, to interrupt the deluge pouring over me.

… But I just need you to sit here and love me.

“Keep Me Here” — Yola (2019)

Going through cancer when you’re single is difficult and complicated, but especially so as a young, gay man experiencing colorectal cancer. In the darkest moments, in the loneliest hours, when I craved physical affection, a hand to hold, a big spoon to lull me to sleep, a shoulder in which I could hide my eyes from the world — and with them, all of my worries and cares — I had nowhere to turn. Hook-up culture and the apps that have come along and monopolized queer entry to romantic and sexual relationships aren’t built for finding a security blanket for a battle with a lethal illness.

And so, in those moments, I turned to my ex. The reasons for our relationship ending notwithstanding, I think we’d both readily volunteer that we don’t think we’re a match. At least, not with a capital M. We live in that strange, queer space of happily being more familiar than platonic friends in that precipitous, somewhat intangible realm of deep connection — predicated on almost three years together — and unspoken boundaries.

He’s an entertainer, traveling the globe for work, ducking back into my life between contracts, each time leaving me with an ex-shaped chasm in my heart. My visceral yearning for closeness, for affection physical and emotional and spiritual, is a cacophony in my head each time, defiant against being denied these needs after having them finally fulfilled. Even if by someone who was not mine, nor could be, nor really should be.

Every time he left, I would love him a little more. It’s a strange thing to give love to someone so dear without being in love with them. So, I cried along with Yola, led by her expressive, assertive, grief-stricken vocals. I shouted along with Vince’s harmony in my car, trying to drown out the maximum volume. I waited a long time, for the right time to tell my ex how much I needed him, how much I wish I didn’t have to need him, I wish cancer didn’t require me to, but it did. I’m not sure the right time has happened yet, but I’ve tried — and I’m still holdin’ on.

“You’re Not Alone” — Our Native Daughters (2019)

Context matters. Circumstances matter. Privilege matters. It’s nearly impossible to listen to the stunningly timeless music of Our Native Daughters without considering these things. Songs mined from the experiences of women of color, of enslaved peoples, of folks categorically and systematically oppressed might seem like the last place a cisgender, white man like myself could seek comfort, but the salve here is twofold. First, to see and be seen. “None of us is here for long / but you’re not alone.”

Second, even in the extreme misfortune and despondency I’ve faced through my journey back to health, I ought to be reminded — I want to be reminded — of my privilege. Of how fortunate I am. Of the ample opportunities and advantages afforded to me by my race, my income level, my geography, my access to world-class medical care, my ability to work and continue working through my diagnosis and treatment, my support system, and on and on.

Yes, we all face our own trials, our own sorrows, and they are no less valid or troublesome because someone else in the world may have had it much, much worse. But the reminder is helpful, it’s cathartic, it’s therapeutic. And, while these injustices continue, while thousands and thousands of others are left in the shadows, we mustn’t take our privilege for granted.

Our Native Daughters use their platform to remind us of this, and no set of circumstances — no, not even cancer — is such that any one of us ought not hear that message. In the process, we might just uncover something limitlessly resonant that we didn’t expect to find.

“Everything’s Fine” — Jamie Drake (2018)

Maybe tomorrow we’ll find / everything’s fine.

Maybe tomorrow…

Maybe tomorrow…

Maybe tomorrow…

For 365 days. And more. Longer. And longer. And looooooonger. But you know what, the cinematic feel of this exquisite, arty folk-pop isn’t coincidental. It’s a deliberate tease. It’s dangling the carrot, leading you toward the conclusion that this is just part of the story. There is a tomorrow. You can hear the future in the sigh of the background vocals, in the whimsical harps, and it sounds good. It sounds like we might just find that everything is fine. And if we don’t (we won’t. At least not always), that’s fine too.

I hope in that future I’m able to option the rights to this story of mine and make a movie, if not for the sake of monetizing the misery I’ve endured, at least so that we can include this stunner on the literal soundtrack. Because that’s where it belongs.

Roll credits.


Photo courtesy of the author

WATCH: Molly Tuttle Plays Clawhammer Guitar on ‘CBS This Morning’

From Newport Folk Festival to network TV, it’s been a huge summer for Molly Tuttle. She’s blazed a trail through modern bluegrass, become one of the most prominent pickers around, and now she’s taking on roots music realms further and further from the string band territory in which she grew up. Feel the rhythm and energy in Tuttle’s national television debut performance  of “Take the Journey,” which showcases her unique frailing, “clawhammer guitar” technique, live from CBS This Morning‘s Saturday Sessions.


Photo credit: Courtesy of CBS

The String – Molly Tuttle and Episode 100 Highlights

The String turns 100 Episodes old with a focus on Molly Tuttle, one of the most celebrated and dynamic young artists in Americana music, a singer/songwriter who has negotiated the bridge from bluegrass to mainstream popular music with amazing grace.


LISTEN: APPLE PODCASTS

Molly Tuttle is a two-time IBMA Guitar Player of the Year as well as a winner of prizes at Folk Alliance and Americana. But more significantly, her debut album When You’re Ready has launched her to appearances at the Grand Ole Opry, Telluride Bluegrass Festival and many other marquee stages. Also in the hour, we listen back to a few highlight moments from three years of The String, including Bela Fleck and Abigail Washburn, Bobby Rush, Gretchen Peters and The Secret Sisters.

The Ringers, Created by Jerry Douglas, Will Play IBMA Wide Open Bluegrass Festival

IBMA World of Bluegrass announced its Main Stage schedule, as well as three special performances, for the Wide Open Bluegrass Festival next month in Raleigh, North Carolina.

Sam Bush will make a guest appearance with Del McCoury Band, while and a new band created by Jerry Douglas called the Ringers will perform for the first time ever. Douglas formed the group with Ronnie McCoury, Todd Phillips, Christian Sedelmyer, and Dan Tyminski.

In addition, a special performance titled “You Gave Me a Song”: Celebrating the Music of Hazel Dickens & Alice Gerrard will feature Alice Gerrard, Laurie Lewis, Allison de Groot & Tatiana Hargreaves, Cathy Fink & Marcy Marxer, Justin Hiltner, Jon Weisberger, and Eliza Meyer.

Wide Open Bluegrass is the free weekend festival that takes place at Raleigh’s Red Hat Amphitheater and on seven additional stages in downtown Raleigh on September 27-28.

These artists join previously announced talent such as I’m With Her (Sara Watkins, Sarah Jarosz, & Aoife O’Donovan), Doyle Lawson & Quicksilver, Balsam Range, Sister Sadie, Frank Solivan & Dirty Kitchen, and Molly Tuttle for Main Stage performances at Red Hat Amphitheater for this year’s festival. Performances at Red Hat Amphitheater will begin at 5 pm and will feature premier bluegrass acts for six hours.

The performances at Raleigh’s Red Hat Amphitheater will be open to the public for free, subject to venue capacity. A limited number of reserved seats in prime sections of the venue are available for purchase to ensure admittance for every performance.

Here is the schedule for the Main Stage performances at Red Hat Amphitheater for the 2019 Wide Open Bluegrass festival:

Friday, September 27
5:00 – Sister Sadie
6:05 – Balsam Range
7:15 – Molly Tuttle
8:25 – I’m With Her (Sara Watkins, Sarah Jarosz, Aoife O’Donovan)
9:45 – The Ringers featuring Jerry Douglas, Ronnie McCoury, Todd Phillips, Christian Sedelmyer, and Dan Tyminski

Saturday, September 28
5:00 – “You Gave Me a Song”: Celebrating the Music of Hazel Dickens & Alice Gerrard
6:10 – Frank Solivan & Dirty Kitchen
7:15 – Doyle Lawson & Quicksilver
8:30 – Del McCoury Band, with Sam Bush, and Special Guests (more to be announced)

IBMA Reveals Award Nominees, Hall of Fame Inductees, Distinguished Achievement Winners

Five of the top bands in bluegrass earned IBMA Entertainer of the Year nominations from the International Bluegrass Music Association. The ballot was revealed on Wednesday morning in Nashville.

The Entertainer of the Year nominees are Balsam Range, Sam Bush Band, The Earls of Leicester, Del McCoury Band, and Joe Mullins & the Radio Ramblers.

Due to a tie, seven titles will compete for the Song of the Year category. The IBMA Awards will take place Thursday, September 26, at the Duke Energy Performing Arts Center in Raleigh, North Carolina, with hosts Jim Lauderdale and Del McCoury.

Mike Auldridge, Bill Emerson, and the Kentucky Colonels have also been named as inductees into the Bluegrass Hall of Fame.

Distinguished Achievement Award recipients include radio personality Katy Daley, Mountain Home label founder Mickey Gamble, former IBMA executive director Dan Hays, The Lost and Found founder Allen Mills, and Japanese language magazine Moonshiner, now in its 37th year covering bluegrass and acoustic music.

The full ballot is below.

ENTERTAINER OF THE YEAR

Balsam Range
Sam Bush Band
The Earls of Leicester
Del McCoury Band
Joe Mullins & the Radio Ramblers

VOCAL GROUP OF THE YEAR

Balsam Range
I’m With Her
Doyle Lawson & Quicksilver
Russell Moore & IIIrd Tyme Out
Sister Sadie

INSTRUMENTAL GROUP OF THE YEAR

Sam Bush Band
Michael Cleveland & Flamekeeper
The Earls of Leicester
Ricky Skaggs & Kentucky Thunder
The Travelin’ McCourys

NEW ARTIST OF THE YEAR

Appalachian Road Show
Carolina Blue
High Fidelity
Mile Twelve
Billy Strings

SONG OF THE YEAR (7 nominees, due to a tie)

“Dance, Dance, Dance”
Artist: Appalachian Road Show
Writers: Brenda Cooper/Joseph Cooper/Steve Miller
Producers: Barry Abernathy, Darrell Webb, Ben Isaacs
Executive Producer: Dottie Leonard Miller
Label: Billy Blue Records

“The Girl Who Invented the Wheel”
Artist: Balsam Range
Writers: Adam Wright/Shannon Wright
Producer: Balsam Range
Executive Producer: Mickey Gamble
Label: Mountain Home Music Company

“The Guitar Song”
Artist: Joe Mullins & the Radio Ramblers with Del McCoury
Writers: Bill Anderson/Jamey Johnson/Vicky McGehee
Producer: Joe Mullins
Associate Producer: Jerry Salley
Label: Billy Blue Records

“The Light in Carter Stanley’s Eyes”
Artist: Peter Rowan
Writer: Peter Rowan
Producer: Peter Rowan
Associate Producer: Tim O’Brien
Label: Rebel Records

“Next Train South”
Artist: The Po’ Ramblin’ Boys
Writer: Mac Patterson
Producers: The Po’ Ramblin’ Boys, Dave Maggard, Ken Irwin
Label: Rounder Records

“Take the Journey”
Artist: Molly Tuttle
Writers: Molly Tuttle/Sarah Siskind
Producer: Ryan Hewitt
Label: Compass Records

“Thunder Dan”
Artist: Sideline
Writer: Josh Manning
Producer: Tim Surrett
Label: Mountain Home Music Company

ALBUM OF THE YEAR

City on a Hill
Artist: Mile Twelve
Producer: Bryan Sutton
Label: Independent

Del McCoury Still Sings Bluegrass
Artist: Del McCoury Band
Producers: Del and Ronnie McCoury
Label: McCoury Music

For the Record
Artist: Joe Mullins & the Radio Ramblers
Producer: Joe Mullins
Associate Producer: Jerry Salley
Label: Billy Blue Records

I Hear Bluegrass Calling Me
Artist: Carolina Blue
Producers: Bobby Powell, Tim and Lakin Jones
Executive Producers: Lonnie Lassiter and Ethan Burkhardt
Label: Pinecastle Records

Sister Sadie II
Artist: Sister Sadie
Producer: Sister Sadie
Label: Pinecastle Records

GOSPEL RECORDING OF THE YEAR

“Acres of Diamonds”
Artist: Joe Mullins & the Radio Ramblers
Producer: Joe Mullins
Associate Producer: Jerry Salley
Label: Billy Blue Records

“Gonna Sing, Gonna Shout”
Artist: Claire Lynch
Producer: Jerry Salley
Label: Billy Blue Records

“I Am a Pilgrim”
Artist: Roland White and Friends
Producers: Ty Gilpin, Jon Weisberger
Label: Mountain Home Music Company

“I See God”
Artist: Marty Raybon
Producer: Jerry Salley
Label: Billy Blue Records

“Let My Life Be a Light”
Artist: Balsam Range
Producer: Balsam Range
Executive Producer: Mickey Gamble
Label: Mountain Home Music Company

INSTRUMENTAL RECORDING OF THE YEAR

“Cotton Eyed Joe”
Artist: Sideline
Producer: Tim Surrett
Label: Mountain Home Music Company

“Darlin’ Pal(s) of Mine”
Artist: Missy Raines with Alison Brown, Mike Bub, and Todd Phillips
Producer: Alison Brown
Label: Compass Records

“Earl’s Breakdown”
Artist: The Earls of Leicester
Producer: Jerry Douglas
Label: Rounder Records

“Fried Taters and Onions”
Artist: Carolina Blue
Producers: Bobby Powell, Tim and Lakin Jones
Executive Producers: Lonnie Lassiter and Ethan Burkhardt
Label: Pinecastle Records

“Sunrise”
Artist: Sam Bush & Bela Fleck
Producers: Akira Otsuka, Ronnie Freeland
Label: Smithsonian Folkways Records

COLLABORATIVE RECORDING OF THE YEAR

“Burning Georgia Down”
Artist: Balsam Range with Atlanta Pops Orchestra Ensemble
Producer: Balsam Range
Label: Mountain Home Music Company

“Darlin’ Pal(s) of Mine”
Artist: Missy Raines with Alison Brown, Mike Bub, and Todd Phillips
Producer: Alison Brown
Label: Compass Records

“The Guitar Song”
Artist: Joe Mullins & the Radio Ramblers with Del McCoury
Producer: Joe Mullins
Associate Producer: Jerry Salley
Label: Billy Blue Records

“Please”
Artist: Rhonda Vincent and Dolly Parton
Producers: Dave Cobb, John Leventhal, Frank Liddell
Label: MCA Nashville

“Soldier’s Joy/Ragtime Annie”
Artist: Roland White with Justin Hiltner, Jon Weisberger, Patrick McAvinue, and Molly Tuttle
Producers: Ty Gilpin, Jon Weisberger
Label: Mountain Home Music Company

MALE VOCALIST OF THE YEAR

Shawn Camp
Del McCoury
Russell Moore
Tim O’Brien
Danny Paisley

FEMALE VOCALIST

Brooke Aldridge
Dale Ann Bradley
Sierra Hull
Molly Tuttle
Rhonda Vincent

BANJO PLAYER OF THE YEAR

Gina Furtado
Mike Munford
Noam Pikelny
Kristin Scott Benson
Scott Vestal

BASS PLAYER OF THE YEAR

Barry Bales
Mike Bub
Beth Lawrence
Missy Raines
Mark Schatz

FIDDLE PLAYER OF THE YEAR

Hunter Berry
Becky Buller
Jason Carter
Michael Cleveland
Stuart Duncan

RESOPHONIC GUITAR PLAYER OF THE YEAR

Jerry Douglas
Andy Hall
Rob Ickes
Phil Leadbetter
Justin Moses

GUITAR PLAYER OF THE YEAR

Kenny Smith
Billy Strings
Bryan Sutton
Molly Tuttle
Josh Williams

MANDOLIN PLAYER OF THE YEAR

Alan Bibey
Sam Bush
Sierra Hull
Ronnie McCoury
Frank Solivan

LISTEN: Louisa Branscomb’s “Gonna Love Anyway”

Featured Songwriter: Louisa Branscomb
Hometown: Cartersville, Georgia
Song: “Gonna Love Anyway” (written by Louisa Branscomb and Jennifer Strickland, performed by Sierra Hull, Jim Hurst, Bryan McDowell, Missy Raines, & Molly Tuttle)
Album: Gonna Love Anyway
Release Date: July 26, 2019
Label: Compass Records

In Their Words: “Being a songwriter keeps you honest if you let it. When I began this project, I’d been through a time of loss and change, including a tornado that took out my farm, losing both parents, and a little heartbreak thrown in to sweeten the mix. So I was looking for images of hope and resilience. Those images became the theme, and then the songs became the album. The song I worked the project around is ‘Gonna Love Anyway,’ with images of fragility and survival at the same time: a flower blooming in December, a cloud letting go of rain, and finally the guitar you pick up on a gamble that there’s one more song. I was so honored that Molly Tuttle agreed to do this one; she herself has such artistic power and grace at the same time, so it’s a perfect match. That is true of Sierra Hull, Jim Hurst, Bryan McDowell, and Missy Raines as artists as well, and that’s why I think this collaboration is so stunning and magical.” — Louisa Branscomb


Photo credit: Vicki Burton

WATCH: Molly Tuttle, “Light Came In (Power Went Out)”

Can you feel it now…? Flatpicking phenomenon and Americana-by-way-of-bluegrass singer/songwriter Molly Tuttle has released her second music video from her debut full-length album When You’re Ready. “Light Came In (Power Went Out)” was co-written with her longtime friend and collaborator Maya de Vitry, as well as When You’re Ready producer Ryan Hewitt and award-winning songwriter Stephony Smith.

The video, directed by Jason Lee Denton, was shot in a plant shop and greenhouse in Nashville, carrying forward the verdant, tropical theme of the record’s cover art with added pops of light and electricity. “I thought that it would be nice to have the visuals almost be an extension of my album artwork, which also had foliage in the background and kind of a golden glow to it,” Tuttle explains. “That gave the video team the idea to look for a plant store or greenhouse that we could shoot in. Mackenzie [Moore] (art direction) and Aliegh [Shields] (producer) thought of crafting a glitter backdrop, and everyone just kind of worked together to make all the rest fall into place.”

After having spent the majority of her life as a performer, Tuttle finds it particularly gratifying to see her musical visions come to life on screen. “I am a very visual person so seeing how the glow of the lights and the lush backdrops add depth to the song is super rewarding. Getting to create in this way is why I love what I do – it was just a very fun evening spent filming in a cute plant store…”

And if you wondered – yes, Tuttle is a fan of the current houseplant craze that has struck many a millennial home and Instagram account. “I love having plants in my house so much!!!” She admits, “It lifts my mood to have greenery around. I just can’t keep any of them alive because I’m constantly away on tour… This video is what I wished the inside of my house looked like, basically, but in reality I just have a few unhappy succulents.”

Watch “Power Came In (Light Went Out)” right here, on BGS.


Photo courtesy Compass Records