Artist:Rose Betts Hometown: London, United Kingdom Latest Album:There Is No Ship (released March 7)
What has been the best advice you’ve received in your career so far?
When I lived in London, my parents would often come to my shows. Right before I’d go on, my mother would say, “Tell me a story.” It seems so simple to put it that way, but really it was such a wonderful gem of advice, a steady light, a root to hold onto. It’s easy to get caught up in other things, when I’m playing live I have to fight against the problems of not hearing myself, the lights, raucous crowds. When I’m singing a song to my phone to share on TikTok I’m thinking about the lighting, or whether its engaging enough. Even when I’m in a room with executives and they’re trying to figure out if I’m worth investing in – keeping that line of “tell me a story” in my head and my heart ties me to the old and beautiful tradition of what songwriting is and, when you take all the egos and the money out of it, what everybody wants to be a part of. We are born storytellers, all of us, and that is the thing that ties us together and helps us grow.
What other art forms – literature, film, dance, painting, etc. – inform your music?
I actually turn to other art forms for inspiration much more than I turn to music. Literature has always been important to me and totally informs more songwriting. Melody is a gift from the air, it isn’t something I overthink, but words, and everything that can be poured into a melody through them, are so magical to me. Authors like Tolstoy, Turgenev, Austen, and Emily Brontë, poets like Keats, Philip Larkin, Seamus Heaney – they all inspire me in different ways to become a better songwriter. I love the challenge of finding new ways to say old things. It offers me and also the listener a chance to look afresh at the world and at themselves.
Which elements of nature do you spend the most time with and how do those impact your work?
Nature is my church, it is where I go to free my mind. Living in LA, I’ve become acquainted with a different kind of nature and I’m not sure it suits me. England is lush, the greens are abundant, the air is rich and full of moisture, it weighs the sky down, bringing it nearly within touching distance. None of this is in LA. So my favourite thing to do here is to drive to San Bernardino, up into the mountains, to Crestline. Being around those trees fills me up, I can feel it nourishing something in me.
Nature roots me to the simplicity of what it is to be alive. It is passive and without pity – a witness. I feel like songs need what human beings need: air and light and water. But everyone has feet that touch the earth, so all songs need to have a part of themselves in contact with the ground, the roots, the stone.
If you didn’t work in music, what would you do instead?
I’d like to think I’d have some quiet job somewhere which gave me lots of time to read, maybe as a librarian or a translator of foreign literature. Or perhaps something in costume or fashion – I love making clothes and I love film costume, so being someone who brought the world of film to life through costume would be pretty wonderful.
Does pineapple really belong on pizza?
Surely trying to police pizza is like trying to say that a violin only belongs in an orchestra and you can’t have pancakes for dinner. Think about all the wonderful things we’ve made because we broke the rules. I love when cultures mix together and make something new and unexpected, it happens all the time, and should be celebrated. That said I don’t have pineapple on my pizza.
A blues, old-time, and Americana alchemist, singer-songwriter-instrumentalist Cristina Vane has just released a striking new album, Hear My Call, a collection that defies categorization and tidy genre labels.
Something of a roots music influencer – though she perhaps would never self ascribe that title – Vane has built a remarkable following around her agnostic approach to borderless, post-genre roots music that effortlessly calls back to eras before all of these styles were stratified and separated.
Vane’s Americana agnosticism stems from a variety of inspirations and inputs, but is largely derived from circumstances, taste, and whim. On the seventh track of Hear My Call, “My Mountain,” she sings along with loping frailed banjo:
I was born across the sea At the feet of the mountain I left young and it left me Lost a piece of my grounding I watch you and how you speak Belonging is astounding I watch you, but what of me? The history that I’m bound to…
She’s referencing her upbringing in Europe, born at the foot of the Alps and raised in Paris before moving to the U.S. in her youth. What does it mean to be a purveyor of “mountain music” when the mountains you claim are not Appalachia or the Ozarks or even Celtic highlands? How can you be an expert and interpreter of these art forms, while ultimately sensing – consciously and subconsciously – that your identity is not or cannot be interwoven with them? Perhaps it brings a certain unbridled freedom and ease? Or perhaps it means your entire relationship to the musics you love will be informed by this kind of daunting existential question: Can you belong?
For Vane, it’s clearly a smattering of many factors that has led her to this delicious and carefree combination of styles, sonics, and songs. She is truly an expert on blues, bluegrass, old-time, and beyond, spurred to excellence on one hand by her feeling of imposing in these traditions and on the other by a devout love and gratitude for the people who also inhabit these spaces and who passed the art along to her.
Cristina Vane may have not felt truly at home in the roots music scenes that claim her until recently or maybe she needed to still grow, easing into her current confident, unapologetic sense of self. At any rate, she’s ready for the world to hear her call – and to understand that she alone decides who she is, how she sounds, and where she belongs. Whether “her mountain” is found in the Alps, in the southeastern United States, in Los Angeles, Music City, or anywhere else. Vane knows that she, too, is a part of these timeless traditions and that, above all else, could be the primary reason she moves between these folkways so gracefully and entrancingly.
Your sound feels like it hearkens back to a time before roots music was split up into all of these different genres, when blues and folk and old-time and bluegrass and country were all technically considered the same thing. I feel like you combine sounds in a really similar way. How do you approach your sound? To me it feels like you’re pretty agnostic, you are very fluid in the way you approach genre. Especially with this album, as it feels so fully fleshed out, built up, and lush.
Cristina Vane: It is a really fine line to walk and I’ve had this struggle since forever where I just don’t want to choose. I don’t feel like I should have to really, either, and I do think that’s what I was hoping would come across in all my albums. Specifically this one in many areas of my life, includes this question of, “Who am I?” “Where am I from?” “Who am I in my community?”
“Who am I” applies to genre as well. Every time I feel this voice of self-doubt that’s like, “It’s just too confusing. If you wanna be appealing to more people and get better opportunities and festivals, they have to know what you are.”
Every time that comes up it’s a difficult feeling, but I ultimately always just say “fuck you!” [Laughs] It’s really affirming that you feel positively about that because I also agree, in the sense that I come from the ‘90s and 2000s, listening to different music and genre was important, but not in the way that I feel like it can get tiresome in Americana music. Where there’s this legacy and tradition that you have to uphold if you’re gonna fit within the parameters of a genre. Whereas, in indie music you can do whatever you want and if it sounds kind of like the other bands in the genre, then I guess you’re indie!
I guess I approached the older traditions with some hesitancy, because I knew that traditional-leaning people are [going to question me]. “You’re not really a blues woman” and “You’re not really a bluegrass artist” and “You’re not really an old-time player.”
Honestly, I think one of the people that, in a lot of ways inspired me on my first album to just stay the course, was Sarah Jarosz. It was more than the fact that she played different instruments and didn’t feel bound to be just a mandolin player. She’s just so talented, obviously, and I think it was very full circle when her last album came out and it was a completely different world than the string band sound stuff. I was like, “See? We all have it in us to want to explore different things.”
To answer your question a little more directly, I don’t worry about genre. If I wrote this song and I am proud of the song, I want to flesh it out in a way that just intuitively feels good to me. That being said, there are some songs where I lean towards more bluegrass, but there’s also a song like “Storm Brewing,” where it’s a clawhammer song. I wrote it on the banjo and then when we dressed it up, it just felt really good to put some electric guitar in there. I’ve added drums to everything because that’s how I wanna play my live show.
I love that you mention Sarah Jarosz, because that’s definitely an artist that this album reminds me of, but also Larkin Poe, Bonnie Raitt and Susan Tedeschi specifically, because you have these big bluesy modern tracks, but you’re a picker as well. I think that changes the music, when the bones of it or the origins of it are coming from someone who’s an instrumentalist-performer-songwriter-vocalist.
I also think that’s part of why the music, even though it comes from a variety of genre backgrounds, feels so engaging and charming, because you can play around with those sounds freely. Even if you were just playing the songs solo, just you, yourself, and your instrument – whatever instrument that may be – they would still work, but they also work fully realized.
Can you talk a little bit about how being a picker informs you and inspires you as a songwriter and as a frontwoman?
You kind of already hit on it. From the outset every song starts with me and my instrument – and they usually start either like “Storm Brewing” in a tent in Utah or like “Getting High in Hotel Rooms” getting high in hotel rooms in Las Vegas. I sit down with an instrument and the music always comes first.
“Everything Is Fine” actually started as a more fingerstyle thing on my resonator [guitar]. I wrote the words and then I was feeling the chorus. The vibe is more rock, and I wanted a strumming electric guitar. So it can be malleable, but pretty much [most of the time] it’s like, “I wrote this riff on this instrument and now I’m gonna write some words to it.” Then, in the case of this album, I bring it to my touring band, who I trust immensely and we can collaboratively work, play around with it, and they give their input as well.
Let’s talk about the title track. “Hear My Call” is like Ola Belle Reed meets Gillian Welch meets modern, head-bobbing bluegrass mash. I love that. I thought it was interesting to pick this one as the title track, given that it’s one of a handful of string band songs on the record among many much “harder” sounding tracks. I wanted to know more about the inspiration behind it, choosing it as the title track, and having it be the keystone of the project. How did you write it and how did it all come together?
You know, I’m actually deeply dismayed to say that I don’t even remember when exactly I wrote this riff! I think I was on a very long, grueling West Coast tour, but you know the West Coast is also always filled with magic. I’m very partial to the nature and landscape out West. I would’ve definitely written the riff first and then I started just hearing this chorus over and over. I was playing it at soundchecks.
I guess I didn’t even think about choosing a song that best represents the album. I was struggling to name the album, just because it’s hard to do that. Do I choose another title or do I do a title track? But I actually chose it because this whole album [is about] the way I was mentally, the way I still am feeling about my place in music, my place in the world, and the general sort of comfort level I have with being exactly who I am.
I’m in a time of changing my energy from being an observer and a student of a lot of different cultures and musics, from looking at other people and taking all of that with deep gratitude, realizing that I have a story as well. The unique blend of things that make up my cultural history, and geographical history – all of those things I should be proud of and not uncomfortable with. Until the last couple of years, I was just uncomfortable with how complicated everything is in my my personal history and my musical influences and not knowing how to marry being a girl from Paris that went to Princeton with being someone who loves down-home music. I just spent [a lot of] time almost apologizing for things that I really can’t change [about myself].
“Hear My Call” is reflective of the shift that happened. Maybe it’s just growing into yourself and realizing I’m actually proud of where I’m from and I’m happy to have had the experiences I have. I have learned a lot from other people, but other people can maybe also learn from me. It’s not all just “take take take.” I can give something back. It’s an assertion of reclaiming space. That’s really what this song is about.
It’s interesting to hear you say that you’re giving yourself permission to be exactly who you are and love the music you love and make the music you make, because I think part of the “trad” music world is that we’re all policing ourselves all the time.
I actually didn’t realize it, but I think a lot of what influenced how I went into the studio [for this album] was that, around that time and a little before, I was delving deep back into the music I listened to when I was, let’s say, 11 to 18. After so many years of being a true student of the blues and then old-time – like, “I have to learn every tune and I have to read all the books!” Well, I wanted to. I went back into this music that felt so familiar and not being stupid and young anymore thinking, “I can’t listen to Blink-182, ‘cause it’s not cool.” I missed The Strokes and Bon Iver and Elliott Smith and all these things that, while I’ve always loved them, I kind of pushed to the wayside as all this new music came in, which is natural.
I loved this feeling around the time of doing this album of just reconnecting with my teenage self and remembering that that [music] has [also] informed the way I write. I want it to be just as present as someone that I discovered much later, like Gillian Welch. I’m hoping that mix comes across, to some extent.
I also wanted to ask about your “online community.” You have a huge social media following and you have so many amazing collaborators that you make content with. Personally, I think part of why you’re able to approach genre without being contained by categories is because you have built this direct-to-consumer business model. You’re directly interfacing with so many of your listeners, so none of them are gonna be surprised to see you code-switch on a project, genre-wise or sonically.
It jumped out at me that the way that you operate online – creating on your own terms with the door open and the window shades up so that everybody can be part of that process and also take ownership of it – must somewhat allow you to do what you want. You aren’t beholden to anybody but yourself, especially given that you’ve created this ecosystem and this community for yourself and your fans already know that’s what to expect from you.
Wow, I just love doing interviews, ‘cause I feel like when they’re insightful people like you they’re telling me things about myself! Because that’s so, so insightful and I have never thought about it that way!
So much has been dictated by circumstance or necessity – and partially just me being batshit crazy and honestly not scared of anything. [Laughs] Like, I would go on the beach in Venice, [California] when I lived there and busk. Instead of playing songs that would make me a lot of money, I played my own songs over and over and over, because I was like, “I’m playing my guitar. I need to get good at it. I think it’s cool and they’ll think it’s cool, too.”
When I first went on the road, I was like, “Well, I’m gonna bring my electric guitar, because my acoustic is gonna explode when I’m in Zion and Moab and all these crazy places.” I was on the road for six months in a tent, mostly. That was a big factor in choosing why a lot of my songs are performed on electric. Then I brought my banjo, ‘cause I liked it and I was like, “I don’t really care if it’s confusing, but I’m gonna like play my blues stuff.”
This is actually going to offend people if you print this, but I would play through my [Fender] Blues Junior and then I would just plug my banjo into it, because, “It’s an amplifier and it fucking works, so…” [Laughs] It didn’t sound that bad actually, to be honest with you, but yeah, I would be playing some random brewery somewhere that I’ve never been and I would go from playing Son House to “Angeline the Baker,” because that’s what I was learning at the time.
I guess in some ways, of course I’m like everyone else and I worry deeply about what people think of me and how I am perceived, but in other ways, I just don’t care. That can be really freeing. I think that’s carried over a little bit. I had experimented with paring myself down – “OK, I need to just be a blues player” and then I would show up to the gig and there would always be one or two people that were disappointed I didn’t bring the banjo. And vice versa when I just did the string band stuff, it felt like I was missing a huge part.
I mean there was no way I was gonna not play my guitar. That’s like my main instrument, but there was a time in Nashville where I was just playing with a string band and I didn’t ever play my resonator. I just played acoustic and the banjo. It didn’t feel complete. I don’t have it figured out. I don’t know that there is a “figuring out” that’s going to happen. I’m just gonna play what I like.
After over 20 years behind the wheel of Western North Carolina-based bluegrass and roots band Steep Canyon Rangers, founding member Woody Platt is forging a new path ahead as a solo artist with his debut album, Far Away With You.
Released on October 11, the 10-song project sees the GRAMMY and IBMA Award winner teaming up with a variety of collaborators – from the North Carolina writers whose songs litter the collection to guest spots from legends like Del McCoury, Tim O’Brien, Sam Bush, and Darrell Scott. The album also showcases covers from Georgia bluesman Blind Willie McTell (“Broke Down Engine”) and rockers Kings of Leon (“Beautiful War”) that showcase Platt’s ability to take songs from far outside the bluegrass space and capture them within it, casting these familiar tales in an entirely new light and making them new all over again.
“This album is a big step for me,” Platt tells BGS. “When I left the Steep Canyon Rangers, it was only to slow down and be home more. I didn’t really have a plan to make a record or to have any sort of solo career, but when you spend half your life on the road and playing music, it just becomes a little bit of who you are.”
That big step has come with even bigger adversity in recent weeks as Platt has joined others in recovery efforts after Hurricane Helene pounded his home region. While his property and most of the city of Brevard were spared catastrophic damage, countless other communities nearby were not. Though recovery will likely take years, Platt is determined to help for the long haul with both power tools and his baritone bluegrass bops.
During a break from hacking away at a fallen tree with his chainsaw to get a neighbor’s bridge reopened, Platt spoke with BGS about the mixed emotions leading up the release of Far Away With You, how Western Carolina informs his music, his song selection process, and how fatherhood has impacted his outlook on music.
What’s it been like for you balancing promoting and preparing for an album release while simultaneously helping your community recover from Hurricane Helene?
Woody Platt: I’m not going to lie to you, I’m conflicted. This is the first time I’ve ever focused on a record that is a solo project with my name on it. With that comes a general sort of concern, anxiety, and excitement, and I’m proud of it, but at the same time I’ve been conflicted about trying to promote something that’s so singular and personal during this huge storm event that’s got so many people in such a bad situation.
Originally, I thought there’s no way the album release show can go on, but when you think about it a little bit more, you realize that music is a great way to bring people together, create a healing environment, and use it as a platform to continue to create awareness and raise money. There’s so many benefit concerts and there always has been, but that just gave me some peace of mind that if we can transition this into being less about the album and more about the community at large and the health of the community, these two things can coexist in a really good way. Being further and further away from the storm and as more people are getting power back, I think it’s a good chance for people to come together and contribute to a greater sort of healing process.
Aside from the pivot to the release show turning into a benefit, what do you hope to accomplish with Far Away With You?
The reason I first started playing music was to play bluegrass music, so this album for me represents a return to my roots. I never stopped playing bluegrass music, but when I was with the Steep Canyon Rangers we evolved and developed more of an Americana sound, so this [album] has been a good way for me to get back to basics and playing the music that originally got me fired up about creating a band and performing in the first place. Also, there’s a lot of great songwriters here in my home community, including my wife Shannon [Whitworth], which has allowed me to tap into some of the local talent to put a spotlight on them as well.
Do you see yourself getting back on the road for any tours or solo runs in support of this record or anything else you may do in the future?
I see shows always on my calendar, but tours, not so much. I don’t envision long runs of shows, but I do see myself playing a festival here, a concert there. I’m also doing a fair amount of work with Shannon, which is sort of separate from this. Between the two, I feel like I’m actually playing more music than I thought it would be. I didn’t have any expectations of what was next after years of touring, but every time I look at my calendar I have some work to do. It’s all been really organic. I’m not out there chasing it or pushing it very hard, but if an opportunity presents itself then I’m usually pretty willing to take part in it.
As you just mentioned, most of the songs on the album are penned by other songwriters. How do you go about deciding what work from others to incorporate into your shows, or in this case, an album?
I’m really drawn to songs, melodies, and just the feel of a composition. I didn’t start this project with a goal to find the songs just within this community, but when a song speaks to you, it speaks to you. Because of that, there was no real roadmap of what the final 10 songs would be. I just went with my gut and the songs that meant something to me or moved me for one reason or another, and this is where I ended up. It was only when looking back on them at the end that I realized that most of them came right out of Brevard.
I was so lucky when I was with Steep Canyon Rangers to be in a band with some really great songwriters. It set the bar pretty high for what I look for in a song, leading to this album where every song is one that I love to play and sing.
From songwriters to nature, how do the mountains of Western North Carolina inspire and inform your music?
We live in such a beautiful place. One of my favorite things about it is all the water. It’s no secret that I’m a lifelong, serious fly fishing angler and I get in the river a lot, like more than most. There’s a real sort of music to the river, so when I’m in the water there’s a lot of inspiration that washes over me. There’s a lot of sounds and what you see is not what you hear and the way it surrounds you is all very inspiring and helps to clear my mind. It’s always been a way for me to reset, which leads to loads of creativity and inspiration.
That’s interesting you bringing up water, because I agree it can be peaceful and relaxing, but as we’ve seen it can also be powerful, destructive, and deadly. Quite the duality.
That’s very true. I just spent the morning in the river with some other guys trying to clear a neighbor’s bridge. Right now the rivers don’t feel as peaceful as they have. There’s a lot to be done, but it’s amazing how rivers can heal themselves and how water can be healing in general.
Sticking with that concept of duality, I can’t help but get a similar sentiment from the song “Like the Rain Does,” which lyrically plays out like a love story (“you’ve got me falling like the rain does”), but is also flexible and ambiguous enough to tie into the recent storms y’all have experienced.
I absolutely love that about music. A song might be written for one particular perspective, but the listener might take it in a totally different direction based on personal experience or, like you said, a recent natural disaster that can sort of change what a song means to you. I’ve always liked that about songs and feel that many of the songs on this record have that sort of ambiguity and openness to interpretation while others are more direct.
Another song I’ve really enjoyed is “Walk Along With Me,” an original of yours that combines your life at home as a father with your love of music. How did it come about?
“Walk Along With Me” was one I wrote in 2015 shortly after our son was born. Shannon and I would work different shifts and I would put our little boy in a Moby [Baby] Wrap on my chest, staying up real late with him while she got some uninterrupted sleep, sort of like a night shift. I wound up writing a lot of songs with this classical guitar nestled against his back, which was really inspiring, because I’d never really thought of myself as a songwriter. I was a part of a lot of song creation, but not as a first writer of songs.
With this one in particular, I was emotional about all of the sudden becoming a father, so I thought about my life and the experiences that I’ve had and how that translated into how I would be as a father. And, how close I would keep my child or how far I would let them go, the ebb and flow of wanting to keep your arms around them and be by their side while also realizing that they’ve got to blaze their own trail. Being a father is ultimately what led me to slowing down my touring. It really changed my whole life, having a son and starting a family and that song is just one example of how I felt about it at that time.
Given that your son is eight years old now, has he started catching the musical bug himself yet?
He really is. Just this morning he was getting ready for school and he had his own music on in his room. He’s also been singing a lot and is getting quite good on the drums. He takes drum lessons from [Aquarium Rescue Unit and Leftover Salmon’s] Jeff Sipe here in town. We were at a little jam not too long ago and he found a cajon and next thing I knew he was a part of the jam and was holding it down pretty well. We’ve tried not to push music on him, but I think just being around these rehearsals at the house and these shows that we play is causing it to seep into his bones.
You’ve mentioned your wife Shannon a couple of times now. What does it mean to you to not only have her by your side for encouragement, but also to lean on as a songwriting partner?
It’s wonderful. She’s super creative [and] also a painter in addition to being a multi-instrumentalist, a songwriter, and a great singer. We play and write a lot together now, but when she was touring with her solo band or with The Biscuit Burners and I was touring with Steep Canyon Rangers we’d oftentimes just put our instruments by the door and not get them out when we got home. We were working so hard with our other groups that when we got together, we were just hanging out. Now that we’re both not playing as much we’re doing a lot more together. It’s been a lot of fun to write together and have her as a good sounding board, and vice versa. We’ve come to a really good place of musical compatibility and creativity.
What has music taught you about yourself?
I was never naturally made for this type of thing. For a long time I didn’t even realize that I had the talent and the capability to carry a show. Because of that, I usually show up over-prepared – I’m not the kind of guy that can just show up and jump on a show, I have to be studied and be ready. That preparation and drive to be good has helped to keep me humble and honest about it. I’ve always felt like at any minute this could all go away. It’s not only aided in keeping my head down and staying focused, but it’s also kept me playing and enjoying music for all the right reasons.
Since 2013, The National Parks have embodied their name in a way few other bands can. In fact, they’ve made a mission of translating the breathtaking majesty of the outdoors into awe-inspiring roots pop – music that ends up like oxygen for the soul, especially if you happen to be lost in a concrete jungle.
A Provo, Utah-based quartet featuring Brady Parks, Sydney Macfarlane, Cam Brannelly, and Megan Parks, the band have explored all over the stylistic trail map in the past, but their new LP Wild Spirit (out August 23) marks a return to base camp. Back to resonate wood-and-string soundscapes, soaring harmonies, and rivers of rushing energy. These days, their brand of upbeat jangle pop is brighter, more encouraging, and more connected to the rhythm of nature than ever.
Speaking with BGS about Wild Spirit’s creation, primary songwriter and guitarist/frontman Brady explains where the mix of uplifting vibes and down-to-earth instruments comes from – and why the group’s new tunes feel like sunrise after a long night.
You’re 10+ years into the band at this point. How’s everybody feeling creatively these days?
Brady Parks: We’re feeling really good. I feel like this new album was kind of just a beautiful process, start to finish. It was, in a way stepping back to our roots – a little more folky, there’s some country elements, some bluegrass, and so it really just feels like rediscovering us. It was just a really fun project to do.
Once you get that far down the road, at some point you have to loop back around and remember what you were doing in the first place, right?
Totally. I mean, we’ve definitely dipped our feet into going more pop at times, and including those elements, so it was fun to bring everything we’ve done over the course of our career back to our roots.
Tell me a little bit about those roots. You seem to capture these natural themes and sounds within the music – the sway of trees in the wind, the rush of a river. Has that always been with you?
Totally. I feel like nature has always been a huge part of my songwriting. I grew up in Colorado and living in the mountains, I just loved it. I was outside all the time. And now living Utah for the last 13 or so years, just being surrounded by so much natural beauty, I tend to find a lot of parallels between love and life and nature, and how it all comes together.
I think it’s always been really inspiring to me musically – and also not musically, just in general. So I think it’s always naturally played a role in our music. And then over the years as we kind of discovered who we are more and more and more with each project, I think it’s become a bit more intentional. We want our music to inspire people to get outside. We want to capture what it feels like.
What do you think is so intriguing about that connection between nature and the human soul? Is there wisdom in slowing down and just learning to look around?
Yeah, and this is something that we talk about all the time as a band when we’re feeling overwhelmed, or depressed, or anxious, or anything. The thing that grounds us the most is getting outside, and it helps us recenter ourselves. I don’t know, I think when you’re out on a hike or you’re out in nature doing something, your soul kind of connects to something bigger than yourself, and it helps you breathe again. I think that’s a big thing for all of us in the band.
Wild Spirit arrives August 23. Tell me, from the band’s perspective, what do you think makes this one a little bit different?
I think this album comes from a lot of soul searching, a lot of going through different personal things. This album captures what it’s like to get lost, and then what it feels like to find yourself when you’re lost. … When I was writing this album, I was working through all those things that I’ve been going through and kind of had this picture in my mind of a forest at night and being lost in it, and what it is to be terrified in this darkness, this unknown, this uncertainty. But also when you’re lost, the daylight comes and you start hiking up and you get different vantage point, and you see things clearer and see the beauty in the journey of it all.
During the writing process, was there a moment where things started to coalesce?
There was definitely a moment pretty early on that we kind of hit on, “This is what the album is, this is what it’s going to feel like, this is what it’s going to narratively be about.” And that was when I was writing “Wild Spirit.” I actually wrote that in Nashville, and it was just one of those writes that was super inspiring and [I] walked away from it really excited to re-listen to this song a million times. I sent it to the band after – I actually sent a group of songs – and that was the one song that everyone was like, whoa, “Wild Spirit.”
Tell me about “Timber.” I love mixing the natural theme with the romantic idea of falling like a tree in love. Where did that come from?
That was written as a love song to my wife Megan, who plays violin in the band. It was a song about letting go of anything that was holding me back and not in our relationship, but I mean, just candidly, we’ve been going through some stuff with our faith and our journey in that aspect. And yeah, this was a song about letting go of everything we’ve known and trust falling with each other, and just realizing that this is what is important to us – our relationship and each other. And that’s all. You just kind of let go of the roots that hold you and fall, and I think there’s a lot of beauty in that.
There’s some wonderful duet harmony on “Where You Are.” Can you tell me where that song came from?
“Where You Are” was a song I wrote about feeling kind of stuck in between places. Sometime I feel this “in-between” in life, coming out of something and moving into something else. Like antsy to get going again, and it was a song I wrote to myself like, “Hey, you can get where you’re going, but it’s okay to be where you’re at right now.” So it’s kind of a song about knowing that one day you’ll get to where you need to go, but it’s okay to not be there.
How about “Scenic Route”? This one is really beautiful to me and lyrically full of natural references. Spiritually speaking, do you tend to choose the scenic route? Or are you more of a direct to the point kind of guy?
I would say I’ve been a direct to the point kind of guy most of my life. And now I feel like more on the scenic route of things, just enjoying life, enjoying the things that matter and trying to slow it down. “Scenic Route” actually is one of the first songs I wrote for the record when I was still trying to figure out thematically what to do, and I really wrote it about Meg and being on a journey together. No matter what hard times we go through, again, it’s about leaning on the person that matters most to you and slowing it down and just enjoying life, even through uncertainty.
Big picture, I’m just wondering what you hope people take away from this one?
I just hope this album in particular can help people that are feeling lost, that are feeling confused, that feel stuck. I hope they know that they’re not alone and that it’s okay to be where you’re at. And then I also hope it can uplift musically. A big part of our brand and messaging is to inspire people to look at the world around them, to get outside and see the beauty in life. So I think those would be the main takeaways.
Artist:Meadow Mountain Hometown: Denver, Colorado Song: “Count Me In” Album: June Nights Release Date: May 22, 2024
(Editor’s Note: Over the last four weeks, Colorado-based bluegrass band Meadow Mountain has premiered a series of exclusive, live performance videos of tracks from their just released album, June Nights. This is the final installment of their SkyTheory Sessions. Find links to the full series below.)
In Their Words: “I originally conceived of this song as a ‘rewriting’ of ‘Rocky Mountain High’ by John Denver. The first lyric from ‘Count Me In’ is: ‘Twenty-seven came and went like a storm, hanging on by the songs I wrote on the day that I was born,’ which is an homage to Denver’s lyrics: ‘He was born in the summer of his 27th year, coming home to a place he’d never been before.’ From there, the song took on its own life. It is a celebration of life in The Rocky Mountains. You want to go play up in the talus fields and by the ice cold mountain lakes? ‘Count Me In.'” – Summers Baker
Track Credits: Written by Summers Baker
Photo Credit:Video still by Erik Fellenstein
Video Credits: Videography – Erik Fellenstein Lighting – Payden Widner Mixing – Vermillion Road Studio
Artist:Meadow Mountain Hometown: Denver, Colorado Song: “Waiting for Tomorrow” Album: June Nights Release Date: May 13, 2024 (single)
(Editor’s Note: Over the last few weeks, Colorado-based bluegrass band Meadow Mountain has premiered a series of exclusive, live performance videos of newly releasing tracks. Watch each installment of their SkyTheory Sessions right here, on BGS. The final installment will be released next week.)
In Their Words: “This song attempts to answer the question, ‘What if, instead of starting the band Foo Fighters, Dave Grohl had picked up a mandolin and spent a year exclusively listening to Alison Krauss & Union Station?’ I guess I was doing a lot of thinking and writing about time – the great healer, but also that which brings an end to all things. And then a new beginning. This is a song about time, and hope.” – Jack Dunlevie
Track Credits: Written by Jack Dunlevie
Photo Credit:Video still by Erik Fellenstein
Video Credits: Videography – Erik Fellenstein Lighting – Payden Widner Mixing – Vermillion Road Studio
Artist:Meadow Mountain Hometown: Denver, Colorado Song: “Trail to Telluride” Release Date: May 6, 2024 (single)
(Editor’s Note: Over the next few weeks, Colorado-based bluegrass band Meadow Mountain will premiere a series of four exclusive, live performance videos of newly releasing tracks. Watch each installment of their SkyTheory Sessions on Thursdays each week for the next three weeks right here, on BGS.)
In Their Words: “I have attended the Telluride Bluegrass festival every year for over 12 years now. It is where I fell in love with bluegrass music and it is where I felt my first calling to write the music of the Rocky Mountains. This song tells a fictional story of a miner in the late 1800s who traveled from Denver to Telluride in an attempt to strike it rich mining for silver. While I am no miner, I do feel that the story tracks with the life of a working musician. You go out there to try something new, and if it doesn’t stick, you reset and get back to work.” – Summers Baker, guitar and songwriter
Track Credits: Written by Summers Baker
Photo Credit:Video still by Erik Fellenstein
Video Credits: Videography – Erik Fellenstein Lighting – Payden Widner Mixing – Vermillion Road Studio
(Editor’s Note: Over the next few weeks, Colorado-based bluegrass band Meadow Mountain will premiere a series of four exclusive, live performance videos of newly releasing tracks. Watch each installment of their SkyTheory Sessions on Thursdays each week for the next four weeks right here, on BGS.)
In Their Words: “It sometimes feels like my life is split up into eras – periods of a year or two that, upon looking back, have a distinct, overarching feeling. As I get older I’ve started to recognize when I’m on the edge of one era, moving into the next one, and I begin to get a sense of the overall color of my recent life. I had that feeling as spring moved into summer last year and wanted to document it in a song. It recounts moments in the Colorado wilderness, misadventures in love, and my abiding wish to be Sam Bush in the 1980’s.” – Jack Dunlevie, mandolin and songwriter
Track Credits: Written by Jack Dunlevie.
Photo Credit:Video still by Erik Fellenstein
Video Credits: Videography – Erik Fellenstein Lighting – Payden Widner Mixing – Vermillion Road Studio
Artist:Beth Whitney Hometown: Leavenworth, Washington Song: “I Go” Album:Into The Ground Release Date: May 28, 2021 Label: Tone Tree Music
In Their Words: “In the 1960s, my grandparents started a tradition in our family called ‘the 9-day Backpack’ that continues in different forms to this day. I’ve joined about five of these and to tell the truth, I do not backpack gracefully. Mosquito and horse fly bites turn into big welts. I’m blistered from boots and bright pink from the sun… but as the wilderness takes me in, it starts to heal me somehow and I come into focus.
“I wrote this one with Gina Belliveau and Brittany Alvis at a songwriting retreat some friends and I hosted in the mountains. The assignment was to write a song inspired by one of our favorite poems, ‘The Peace of the Wild Things,’ by Wendell Berry. These two were a joy to write with and are both featured in the recording.” — Beth Whitney
Artist:Clint Roberts Hometown: Brevard, North Carolina Latest album:ROSE SONGS (February 26, 2021)
Which elements of nature do you spend the most time with and how do those impact your work?
I always have been, and probably will always be, a mountain boy. I’ve lived in Western North Carolina for 90% of my life, all of that time between Brevard, Asheville, and Boone. Mountains are deeply inspiring and meditative for me, perfect for stewing lyrical ideas or song narratives in my mind. I trail run a fair amount, and that’s always a good time for me to listen to my demos and do lyrical gymnastics with them, or simply listen to other people’s music and try to get lost in it. I’ll never know to what extent my environment informs my process, but I imagine these mountains give me a lot.
What was the first moment that you knew you wanted to be a musician?
Prior to finding songwriting in early high school, I wasn’t sure what I really wanted to do with my life. I felt like a fish being asked to climb a tree in the areas of school sports, Boy Scouts, and the various other middle school activities that kids are often herded into. The moment I learned four chords on a ukulele in 9th grade, I started writing songs. And soon after I would decide that performing my songs is what I wanted to do with my life. The process was and still is addicting, and at the time it was one of the first times I can remember hearing validation from other people that I was good at something. So between my own love for it and hearing friends and even strangers tell me that I had a shot, I decided to go that route.
What’s the toughest time you ever had writing a song?
There’s a song on my upcoming record (ROSE SONGS) that took roughly five years to finish. That’s not to say that I spent each day of that time slaving away at it, but rather, that I didn’t know what I wanted to do with it until that much time had passed. The first verse and chorus were written in a day, the rest of the song was finished about five years later. It was a song that always hung out in my demos, always reminding me that one day it had to be finished. I’m really glad I did, because it’s one of the songs and recordings on the album that I’m most proud of.
What other art forms — literature, film, dance, painting, etc — inform your music?
Film informs my process a lot. I’ve occasionally written songs from the perspective of different characters in movies that I like. The aesthetic or setting of a given film can very potently reside in my mind, often subconsciously informing my creativity. I particularly like epics that have a lot of different fantastical settings, like The Dark Crystal and The NeverEnding Story. When curating the songs for a record, I try to keep my song choices diverse like the settings of such movies, so that no one given song feels quite like the other.
What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?
This isn’t quite a stage memory but it’s a backstage memory. I’m friends with members of Steep Canyon Rangers, a band that many of your readers are probably aware of. They perform with Steve Martin frequently. My college band had given the guys several copies of our first EP, and it’s now my understanding that they had given Steve one of the copies (maybe they just played it in front of him, I’m not sure). Some months later, our band would be on a festival bill with Steve and the Rangers, and Steve was waiting to shake my hand off stage when we were done performing. “Sounds just like the record,” he said. That was a very confusing and exciting moment for a 19-year-old songwriter.
Photo credit: Daniel Barlow
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