Chely Wright Now

From growing up on a Kansas farm, to building an award-winning country music career, to a groundbreaking coming out in 2010, to now. As Senior Vice President, Corporate Social Responsibility and New Market Growth at global workplace experience and facilities management company ISS, Chely Wright has followed a simple but effective mantra: “Plan your work and work your plan.” Her parents instilled this ethic in Wright and her siblings, and to this day it guides her trajectory.

“My parents raised all three of us kids to be problem solvers,” she says. “When you live on a farm, you’re poor, and you have to fix things with duct tape, you get really good at problem-solving. It’s in our DNA, and I love that they raised us to do that.”

A singer and songwriter, she moved to Nashville in 1989. Awarded the Academy of Country Music’s Top New Female Vocalist of 1995, her steady ascent led to over fifteen chart singles — including her first hit, “Shut Up and Drive” (1997), first number one, “Single White Female” (1999), and “The Bumper of My S.U.V.” (2005) — and eight studio albums.

Wright came out in 2010, making history as the first country star to publicly do so — at great personal and professional risk. At that time, she could not have anticipated that her courage and authenticity would not only reverberate and empower countless others, but would eventually lead to a high-level position.

“When I came out, I wanted to do it well,” she says. “That included embedding myself with organizations that could inform, educate, and help me be a good voice in the LGBTQ community. In doing that, I gained tremendous understanding of the power of storytelling and, essentially, culture work. I began having opportunities to do that work with corporate organizations, higher education, and faith communities. It became what I called my ‘side hustle,’ in addition to my work as an artist.”

When COVID-19 lockdowns brought touring to a halt in 2020, Wright continued her “side hustle” through virtual events and workshops. One of her clients, global design firm Unispace, brought her on full-time as chief diversity officer, working in DEI (diversity, equity, and inclusion). This year, she joined ISS, whose international reach includes over 320,000 employees worldwide.

Moving into corporate social responsibility was an organic transition, as CSR intersects with DEI. “We think about creating access and opportunity for Black- and Brown-owned businesses, women-owned businesses, locally owned businesses, LGBTQ-owned businesses, veteran-owned businesses,” she says. “We think about procurement, sustainable sourcing, and ethical supply chains. Our clients have their eye on mindfulness around who works for them. They know there’s an employee value proposition. Those employees want to know that the company they work for is not only being good corporate citizens, but also ‘What are they doing for my community? What are they doing within a twelve-block, twenty-block, hundred-block radius of where I go to work?’

“Especially in the past five to ten years, companies are seriously asking themselves, ‘How do we not only protect our shareholders, our stakeholders, but how are we making sure that the people who work here know that not only do we need and want to give them health insurance, and economic security through a 401k and a paycheck, but what are we doing to use the monies we are making as a company to make the communities outside the four walls of this business, this office, better?’ That’s how I see the shared space between DEI and CSR.”

Wright works in the ISS New York office, sometimes telecommuting from home, and often traveling to meet with clients onsite. “I keep having opportunities to use my story,” she says, “and I cannot think of a single thing more gratifying than doing that now in a corporate space, in a global organization. I get to use that on their behalf and on behalf of our clients.”

In time for Mental Health Awareness Month, Chely Wright spoke at length with BGS about what she calls a move “from C-chord to C-suite,” how the landscape on Music Row and beyond has and hasn’t changed in the fifteen years since she came out, and how she balances fear and caution about the current climate with innate hope and optimism.

So many of us, especially women, experience impostor syndrome in our careers. Did you experience this as you moved into corporate spaces?

Chely Wright: Yes, a hundred percent. “Am I good enough? Am I smart enough? Do I belong here? Do I actually have the goods to deliver?” Making a dramatic life pivot, impostor syndrome bubbled up and it wasn’t my first bout. I dealt with it when I came out. I dealt with it when I left Polygram and went to MCA Records. I dealt with it in 1989, when I went to Nashville to get a record deal. I know now that when impostor syndrome scratches at my back, I just turn around and say, “Okay, I have things to learn.”

There is nothing more exciting than taking on a new skill set and dipping my toe in a body of water that I never thought about being in before. I have 10,000 sunrises left, if I’m lucky. So it’s not “What can I do?” It’s “What do I get to do?” Why wouldn’t a person like me have a second and third life, take the leadership/communication/radical listening/storytelling/execution skill set, and go into corporate spaces?

We take a myopic view of the music business, but it’s business. The artists who have staying power and choices are iconic not just because of their talents. They do open their mouths and something magical comes out. But when you look at what they’ve done with their business and marketing and the protection and stewardship of their brand, it is business.

When Rodney Crowell produced Lifted Off the Ground [2010], he asked me, “What is your goal as an artist?” I said, “My goal is to be able to make music as long as I want to, when I want to, where I want to.” Because I’m in a corporate role right now does not mean in any way, shape, or form that I’m not going to make more records. I know I will. I have the choice to do that when, where, and how I want to, and having that choice is a blessing and a gift.

What changes do you see in the music industry? How does the big picture look today compared to when you came out?

It looks different than it did fifteen years ago. The music industry, as a whole, obviously is making progress. And I think it would be safe to say that the country music industry is making its own progress at its own pace.

All I know is this: change happens, whether we want it to or not, and there will never again have to be someone who says, “Do I jump first?” I jumped and several others since then have joined me in raising their hands, owning their narrative, and saying, “I am a writer, a producer, a picker, and I happen to be a queer person.”

That said, a lot has changed in the world that makes it more difficult to raise your hand and say who you are. Certainly in the last few years, politically, it’s gotten, in some ways, more dangerous to do that. In some ways, the stakes feel higher right now. But change happens. That’s the thing about time: you can’t slow it down. It’s coming.

Does country music have quite a ways to go to be known as a bastion of equity, fairness, justice, and safety for all? Of course. So does banking, construction, and tech. They’re all on their respective journeys and it takes courage. It takes courage to be a holder of a unique story that people might not be ready to hear. It takes courage, tenacity, and a sense of self. God bless those who raise their hands and say, “I am also this.”

Change is not always a forward or positive step. Change is happening now, but in ways that many of us feel are going backward and becoming increasingly frightening.

Change is happening in some terrifying ways. I won’t gaslight and say, “It’s not as bad as it seems,” or, “It’s just rhetoric,” because even if the thing itself doesn’t happen, the terror that it might is the damage.

Some of these things we fear might not come to pass for certain populations, but we look at our brothers and sisters who are in the fight as well — Black and Brown people, immigrants, trans people — they are my family, and very real things are manifesting for them that aren’t just rhetoric. My wife is Jewish, we are an interfaith family, we are two moms, we are women, and we feel under threat in a lot of different ways. People in our family, and in our circle of love and trust and chosen family, are under threat.

American democracy is, by all intents and purposes right now, very close to being disabled. When we hear we’re in a constitutional crisis, in farm terms, we’re hogtied. As a mother of Jewish babies, as a queer person, as a person who has traveled the world and believes America is the greatest nation on the planet, the importance of America and democracy surviving this — it’s not just America at stake. It’s everyone. It’s the human population. We need to find a way to become un-hogtied, because democracy and freedom, real freedom for all, has to stand. I shudder to think what the world would look like without an American democracy.

In a 2010 interview with Entertainment Weekly you said, “It’s the secret haters who do the most harm, historically.” Those haters are now loud and proud. Is that better or worse? Knowing the enemy versus not knowing who and where they are?

Yes. They’ve become unburdened by any concern of being seen as homophobic, anti-Semitic, misogynistic. The power of gang mentality is real and negative gang mentality scares me a lot. There’s danger in it and people are very easily pulled into the vortex of those energies. When these people group together, form coalitions, lock arms, and move, they take on a new and exponential energy that can suck others up into it.

That scares me. I almost wish they would stay in their closets. But it’s also helpful to know who’s with us and who’s against us. That is really powerful information to have.

You said earlier that you have 10,000 sunrises left, if you’re lucky. There was a point in your life when you no longer wanted those sunrises. The Trevor Project’s 2024 U.S. National Survey on the Mental Health of LGBTQ+ Young People cites, among other things, that 39% seriously considered attempting suicide in the past year. What is your message – and how is your mental health today?

Coming out as gay when I did was the only way I could survive. On the morning after I didn’t end my life, on that cold winter day in my house in East Nashville, I was afraid I was going to go back downstairs, grab that gun, and do it. So I got on my knees and said, “God, if you have a way for me now, I need to know it.” Hand over my heart, in an instant I knew, “You’re going to come out, you’re going to come out well, and you’re going to tell the whole story.”

I had a responsibility to my maker to tell that story, which included a successful, relatively well-positioned person who always had a ton of confidence, love, friends, health, and resources. I had all those things, and I found myself with a loaded nine-millimeter gun in my mouth – a gun my parents bought for me for protection.

I had a responsibility to say, “This is how bad it gets when you don’t get to be who you are.” It was important, and I’ve said this many times, for the 14-year-old kid at the foot of their bed with their dad’s gun in their hand. It was important because we have to raise our hands in spaces where representation does matter, like in country music. Somebody needed to say, “I love the Grand Ole Opry, I love our troops, I love having grown up in a farm town in Kansas, I’m a person of faith, and I am a queer person, always have been, and always will be.”

My mental health, ever since that morning after I didn’t end my life – I’ve never had another thought of doing it. I’m often asked if the day I came out was the best day of my life. It wasn’t. The best day of my life was the day I decided I was going to come out, because for the first time since I was 9 years old I had hope that I could be me – the whole me.

So my message … I don’t say “It gets better.” I never liked that campaign of “Just survive junior high. Just make it through being bullied in high school, because once you’re an adult and have resources to change your zip code, it gets better. Just hang on through the shit because it’s going to get better.” I don’t like it. Our job as grown-ups is not to ask young people to survive the shit until it gets better. Our job is to roll our sleeves up, reach out, go to the shit, and fix it for young people right now. It’s incumbent upon those of us who have power, position, and resources to make it better now.

What can each individual, those of us who don’t have “power, position, and resources,” do to help make it better?

What I realized after coming out and having conversations with thousands of other queer people, whether it be on the phone, or they’d write a letter, write to me on Facebook, or stand in line after an event and talk to me and share their story, I understood that everybody has a fan club. That fan club may be your neighbors, your colleagues, your family, your congregation. It may be one person or a collection of people that notice what you do, what you say, how you express yourself. Everybody has their own personal story and presence. How will you use your respective power, position, and resources to do good?

Power means your personal influence – and it may just be with one neighbor or coworker. Position means, for example, if you’re really good at swinging a hammer, then do a little work with Habitat for Humanity. Use your skill. Resources might be, “I’ve got some extra ‘this,’” so use it.

Everybody has power. How will you wield it? How will you use your skill set? How will you use your unique resources, your influence, to make things a little bit better for an organization or a single person? That might mean swinging your hammer, or it might mean helping someone in a crosswalk when the light is about to change. There are a thousand ways we can use our power, position, and resources every day.

You wrote your autobiography Like Me: Confessions of a Heartland Country Singer “to tell the story of who I am.” Who are you now?

I’m exactly the same. I have new experiences to add, my CV looks different, but I am exactly the same person. Still a person of faith, a person who loves country music and the Grand Ole Opry, who loves to meet and talk to people. I’m still really curious, proud of who I am, and as hopeful as I always have been.

And I’m still strategic, as evidenced by the way I came out. If you look at the way I’ve lived my life and evolved my career since then, it should surprise no one how strategic I was in how I came out. I wanted to come out well, and that required strategy, because the people who will and do malign people like me, the Focus On the Family [kind of] organizations and the far-right fringe, who want to tell stories that aren’t true about people like me — you better believe they’re strategic.

I’m going to meet and match their strategy with how I tell the real story of me and people like me. It goes back to what [my parents] Stan and Cheri Wright told me: “Plan your work and work your plan.” I did that when I came out, and I’m doing that now.


Photo courtesy of Shorefire Media.

Dualities & Disorientation: Olive Klug is Older, Wiser, and Still Feels Like a ‘Lost Dog’

“If the world is my oyster I’ve been poking at it with a plastic fork,” sings Olive Klug on “Taking Punches from the Breeze,” the first track off their second album, Lost Dog, which released April 25. Klug writes with a mesmerizing combination of levity and intensity about a slightly off-kilter world. Through closeups on minute, funny, and revealing moments in life, they illustrate how schisms can be beautiful, too, if you see them right.

Though often joyful and whimsical, Lost Dog isn’t always rosy. On it, Klug works through immense life and perspective shifts. Their takes on breakups – “The butterflies have all got broken wings” (“Cold War”) – and depression – “When my friend hangs up / and my mind turns gray” (“Opposite Action”) – are refreshing not for their angst but for their realism. But nowhere is their combination of playful, revealing storytelling more evident than on “Train of Thought,” their love letter to their neurodivergent brain.

There’s a train in the sky in the middle of my mind and it’s flying off a one-way track
And they try to button up my suit and tie in an attempt to hold me back
But I’m this strange old conductor wearing pearls and a backwards baseball cap…

Klug grew up in Oregon and studied psychology in college, intending to work towards a master’s degree and career in social work. Not long after graduation, the COVID-19 pandemic hit and they lost their job. Like so many others, Klug ended up at home, on TikTok. There, music took off fast, and their song “Raining in June” scored them an audience. From there, life hit warp speed – a record deal, a move, a music career, a new relationship – and then it fell apart.

Now older and recalibrating, they’re releasing their second album, Lost Dog (their Signature Sounds debut), about aging with a neurodivergent brain, leaning into their differences, and coming to terms with not having everything figured out.

Your first album, Don’t You Dare Make Me Jaded, came out in 2023 and now we’re talking about your new album, Lost Dog. You’ve lived a lot of life between recording the two albums and you’re clearly writing from a different place this time around. What’s changed for you between those two projects?

Olive Klug: I was 23, 24 when I really started to pursue music as a career. I was not particularly young, but I was kind of naive in the music industry world. I blew up pretty quickly after giving it a go and then moved to LA and signed a record deal. When I look back, I had a lot of hubris, I was very self involved. I was living in LA. It was very exciting. I thought “I’ve made it.” I was making all my money off of music. [But] I was dropped from that record label directly after the release of that album, Don’t You Dare Make Me Jaded, which I think now is kind of like funny and ironic and is hilarious.

That’s funny, “Damn, I said don’t.”

So I was dropped from that label and I also went through a breakup. I had these two years of riding this crazy high and then everything came tumbling down at the same moment. I realized that that whole era of my life was a little bit gilded; that relationship wasn’t right for me, that record label wasn’t right for me. But I looked like I had it together on the outside.

All of that made me dig pretty deep into what I wanted out of my life. It was a moment of soul searching and a moment of having to believe in myself, understand who I was, and motivate myself to keep going in music, because there was nobody around me believing in me anymore.

The past two years have been this wild journey of figuring out what I want, figuring out who I am, and maturing and leaving that hubris behind – and [leaving] that life behind. Since that happened, I moved to Nashville, Tennessee, I recorded a bunch of songs, I wrote a bunch of songs. I bought a van. I now live in my van, but I still don’t really have things totally figured out. I’m still lost at times. I think that’s the reality for a lot of people my age.

I’m in my late 20s now and I think that this album is really about the moment that I woke up. I was 27 and things were less figured out than they were when I was 24. That’s where the Lost Dog title comes from, feeling like I am getting older yet I am still feeling like a lost dog, wandering around the country.

There is so much pressure in this world to have it figured out or to be one specific way, and it feels like you’re pushing back on that and saying you don’t have to do that if it’s not right for you.

I’m not really trying to make a statement. My first album, I tried to tie all of my songs up in this neat little bow to be like, “Here is the message that I want to send with this song.” This next album is much more unfiltered. It’s just what came out of me. This is my experience. I’m not trying to reassure anybody with these songs.

You’ve said that this album is about aging as a neurodivergent free spirit. Particularly talking about “Train of Thought,” where you’re leaning into the chaos you feel inside your brain sometimes, instead of trying to hide it. What about that experience felt like what you needed to write about on this album?

I spent my adolescence trying hard to fit in. I had my little secret moments at home. But at school and in my regular life, I got good grades. I dressed up in a way that I thought would be rewarded [at] school. I still was very [much] conforming to my gender, and I tried really hard to be “normal.” I was scared of what would happen to me socially if I did not try to fit in, even though there was this part of me that really wanted to be different.

It wasn’t until my adulthood that I felt the freedom to experiment more with my identity and experiment more with rejecting those norms. I think that’s totally the opposite of what a lot of people experience. A lot of people, when they’re a teenager, they rebel and they dress really crazy and they try to be as weird and challenge the norms as much as possible. I didn’t start doing that until maybe even slightly after college. Since then, it’s been a deep spiral down into allowing myself the freedom to really be myself.

I didn’t understand that I was neurodivergent. I didn’t understand that my brain worked a little differently than other people. Now I’m like, “Well, what do I have to lose? I’m just going to be totally myself.” Having this community of people who are my listeners and fans who really like that about me, and who really celebrate that about me, has been really healing. I think that a lot of artists and writers are neurodivergent in some way and the superpower of it is that’s what allows us to write the way that we do. That’s what [“Train of Thought”] is about, allowing myself to stop trying to put myself in a box and let the chaos of my mind roam totally free.

I’m curious about “Taking Punches from the Breeze,” which is you letting yourself wander in a different way. There are these great lines in there like, “…If the world’s my oyster I’ve been poking at it with a plastic fork.” I don’t think anybody has ever presented that concept before in that way.

I wrote that one living in an apartment in LA by myself. And I love living alone. It’s like the best for my creative flow. But I was really sad. It was in the aftermath of that breakup and being dropped from the record label where I wrote these songs. “Taking Punches From the Breeze” was one of the first ones I wrote. That and “Cold War” were the beginning of this Lost Dog era, so to speak. I got really high one night, to be so honest with you. I was in my apartment and I had just gone on– you know when you have your first date after a breakup? I was on this first date after a breakup. I feel like I am pretty good at asking other people questions and I was asking this person all these questions. Then they would turn around and ask me those questions and I’d be like, “God, I don’t know what I’m doing right now.”

When I’m doing shows, I’m like, “Oh, I’m a Gemini. That’s why this album is the way it is.” I think it’s true, it’s about holding a lot of dualities. A constant disorientation is what I’ve really felt for the past two years. But there’s a lot of fun and joy and possibility in that constant disorientation. It can be hard at the same time.

The other side of the duality, or another part of the duality, is “Opposite Action,” where you’re really pretty down in the middle of the album. Tell me about writing that song.

That was also in that time. I think it was late summer, I was in my apartment in LA feeling weird. I was a psychology major, and I learned about DBT [Dialectical Behavioral Therapy]. That song borrows from a DBT concept called opposite action. I remember having questions about it when I learned about it. But it’s basically the concept that you do the opposite of what your instincts are telling you to do: If you are feeling particularly depressed, you’re supposed to take a deep breath and try to do the opposite. So if you wake up and you want to lay in bed all day and do nothing, you’re supposed to force yourself to go out and be social, go to the park, go to the beach.

I was like, “I’m gonna go to the beach, even if it’s by myself. I’m gonna try to plant things in my backyard.” It was all these things that I was trying to do to make myself feel better, but then feeling really frustrated, because I was taking good care of myself and I still felt bad.

How the song really started was, as a touring musician, so many of the things that people tell you to do to establish some sort of stability and happiness are just impossible to do. Growing plants is something that I would love to be able to do. I can’t do that, because I’m not at my house most of the time. I came back from a trip or a show or something and I had tried to grow jalapeños and tomatoes in my little back patio area. They had died.

That to me is one of the things that really sticks out about your music. You have this way of dialing in on these minute observations. Is that how your brain works all the time? Is that how you’re seeing the world?

I don’t know, maybe. I don’t know how people see the world differently or not. But my writing does feel sort of matter of fact to me oftentimes. So maybe that is how I see the world.

It’s matter of fact, but it’s really joyful.

I think a lot of Lost Dog is coping with those decisions I can’t really take back. If I had gone down that traditional path, if I had gone to grad school, become a therapist, I would have health insurance right now, I would have job security right now. There would be a lot of things that I would have right now that I lack in my life. It is scary to be even a semi-successful musician. I have no certainty. It’s really, really hard to feel any sense of stability or certainty. And to not have any health insurance and to not have any benefits, and all of that stuff, it can be really scary. I wish that small working artists had that. It makes me feel like I’m never going to be able to really have a family, if I go keep going at this rate, I am never going to be able to go to the dentist.

That’s the thing that I really wish more people understood. You’re looking at this artist on stage every night and you relate to their music, they’re still on the road maybe 200 days a year. They don’t have that personal life stability. They don’t have that health insurance often. Even if you think they’re well known, the margins are so crummy and what it takes is so intense.

But if I had not taken this risk, I would always wonder what would have happened. I’m really glad I took the risk. It’s such an incredible payoff. One thing that I can always feel when I’m on stage every night is I have the most fulfilling career ever. That is something that I will never question.

People are like, “I want to have a job that has meaning and that feels aligned with what I’m good at and who I am.” Every night I go on stage, I’m getting paid to do the thing that I feel like I am meant to be doing and that is really worth it. Maybe one day that will include some stability.

And just like that, we’re back to dualities.

Yes, exactly.


Photo Credit: Alex Steed

Little Blue

Patience and persistence have long been traits embodied by the music and songwriting of Kristina Murray, but with her new album, Little Blue, she can add another “P” word to the mix: perseverance.

Now a decade into her time in Nashville, Little Blue (out May 9 on New West Records) is poised to be her “ten year town” breakout moment. Through its blend of old school country twang and swampy southern R&B she ruminates on everything from the grind, pursuing her honky-tonk dream, to finding love, and the unseen burdens placed on women. She shows off her formidable knack for storytelling in the process. The project is also direct evidence of the inroads she’s made in Music City, with artists like Erin Rae, Logan Ledger, Sean Thompson, Miss Tess, Frank Rische, and John Mailander all lending a hand.

Originally from Atlanta, Murray was introduced to country as a child via a cassette of Patsy Cline’s greatest hits in her mother’s car. She eventually got her first guitar in high school, but didn’t play it anywhere outside of open mics and church camps until she moved to Colorado in the mid 2000s to pursue a degree in recreational therapy. While there, she became immersed in the regional bluegrass scene and began playing out more, slowly gaining confidence and building toward her eventual move to Nashville in 2014. While she was only in Colorado for six years, Murray still looks back on her time out west as foundational for her direction in life and the art she’s pursuing now.

“I’d never lived outside the South before and had a couple mentors of mine tell me I should give it a try for a little bit,” recalls Murray. “It was out there where I realized that being a musician is what I wanted to do with my life. Once you get bit by the playing-on-stage bug, there’s no going back. It’s so much more than just playing for people, too. It’s also being in sync with your band and performing at a high level and the energy feedback loop that can come from that.”

Since relocating to Nashville, Murray has become a linchpin of the city’s dive bar and juke joint scene, frequently popping up at places like Dee’s Country Cocktail Lounge and Bobby’s Idle Hour, and became one of the first women to front a full band at Santa’s Pub. But despite all this, she was starting to feel stuck as the pressure of things like her father’s sudden death, car wrecks, watching others have the success she’d been waiting on began to weigh her down. But in that darkness she was able to find a glimmer of light, and Little Blue was born.

Leading up to the album’s release, Good Country caught up with Murray to discuss imposter syndrome, expectations in the music business, the healing power of music, and more.

If going from open mics and church camps in Georgia to diving into Colorado’s bluegrass scene was a big step, then moving from there to Nashville must’ve felt like being on another planet. What was that transition like?

Kristina Murray: My time in Colorado was foundational in some ways. I learned the Nashville number system, how to play with a band, and how to execute a bunch of different songs really well while I was there. But, eventually, it got to being a big fish, small pond kind of thing. You can make a living out there just by playing cover songs in bars, but what I wanted was to write songs and be around people my age who were also writing the kind of songs I like, wanted to listen to, and wanted to write. Moving there was a big step because Nashville is the place where the music I love was and is still being made.

You’ve been grinding away in Nashville for a decade now as an independent musician, but this new record marks your debut with New West. How’d that partnership come about?

Southern Ambrosia [was] the first record I put out after moving to Nashville and, quite frankly, I didn’t know what I was doing. I had seen a lot of my peers kind of take off and naively I thought, “Well, this is a really good record full of great players and good writing and I’m in this kind of circle community; because all those things are true, then this record should get me to the next place that I wanted to go.”

It was actually on the radar of Normaltown and New West back in 2018, but things fizzled out because I didn’t know how to go about having conversations with business people about my music – I’d never done anything like that before. Fast forward a few years, this record was done in 2023 and by early 2024 I was talking with them again about picking it up. Their support means a lot, because it’s really difficult to get your record and your career to the places that you want to go without it.

New West and Normaltown are also based out of Athens, Georgia, and I’m from Atlanta, so it means a lot to be involved with them on that level as well. I was a huge Drive-By Truckers fan in my 20s and can’t get enough of Jaime Wyatt, Lilly Hiatt, Nikki Lane and others. There’s just a lot of people that I love and respect on that record label and I’m happy to be a part of the family.

Better late than never, I suppose! You just mentioned the feedback for Southern Ambrosia not meeting the lofty expectations you had for it. I imagine seeing friends and colleagues having success with their music – from signing with labels to getting on bigger and bigger shows to nailing down high-profile writing sessions – doesn’t help to keep the imposter syndrome at bay.

It’s funny, because during my decade in Nashville I really have seen so many people just skyrocket, and it’s all been so deserved, like Erin Rae – nobody sings or writes like her – or Sierra Ferrell, I mean who else sings like that? Logan Ledger, who also joins me on this record, is one of my favorite singers and songwriters around. During my time here there’s been so many times when I’ve thought that something must be wrong with the way I sing or write to not be getting all those opportunities for myself. But I’ve come to realize that having all that isn’t what will validate me as a musician, writer, performer, and person who simply loves this music, because at the end of the day, if I still get something out of it, shouldn’t that be enough? It’s something I’ve grappled with a lot through the years and continue to do on this album.

Speaking of expectations in the music business not always being reality and the illusion of success, are those things you’re tackling head on in the song “Watchin’ the World Pass Me By”?

What’s funny about that song is it started out as me just trying to see if I could write a basic “outlaw” country song. It obviously evolved a bit from a writing exercise parody to a commentary on getting “so tired of watching ‘em livin’ my dreams” and “daddy’s bankroll to make the rules” nepotism and suddenly being a country singer, because you threw on a cowboy hat. But I also poke a bit of fun at myself, too, with lines like “She’s just a bitter, jaded, helpless fool.”

Another tune I’ve really enjoyed is “Phenix City.” In many ways it seems like an outlier on the record, a story song amid a sea of deeply personal, autobiographical tales. With that in mind, what was your intention for including it here?

Most of this record is autobiographical or composite sketches of me and those around me, but that one specifically is a story song. It very much paints a picture of small-town circumstances in Phenix City, a small town in Alabama along the Georgia border. One time I was driving down to a gig in Columbus, Georgia, and instead of going through Atlanta I decided to head straight down from Nashville through Alabama. I rented a car because my van was out of commission, and about a half hour outside Columbus I broke down after running out of gas because I had my music so loud I couldn’t hear it beeping. I eventually got it to a mechanic shop in Phenix City where the man told me I just needed some gas, which was both a relief and a moment that made me feel like the biggest idiot around, but briefly getting stuck there did inspire the song in a roundabout way.

Similar to “Phenix City,” another outlier of sorts on Little Blue is the lead track, “You Got Me,” which seems to revolve around the early, butterflies-fueled stages of love. Mind telling me a bit about it and the mood it sets for the remainder of the project?

I’m not one for writing love songs too much. The only other real love song I have is “The Ballad Of Angel & Donnie” from Southern Ambrosia, which is another story song about a meth dealer and his girlfriend. I wrote “You Got Me” early on in my relationship with my now-partner. It’s a very true-to-life song and I knew if it was going to be about him that it had to be a really cool-sounding song. My guitarist, James Paul Mitchell, came over one night when I was writing it and helped to come up with that signature lick you hear on it right at the beginning, which I loved. I really wanted it to be like a Band song with the Clavinet sounds that they twin throughout the song. My partner, Corey [Parsons], also plays percussion on this one, which is really sweet that he got to put some of his touch on a song about him.

The song also starts with the word “and,” which came from a writing exercise after listening to Robert Johnson’s “Love in Vain.” It begins with “And I followed her to the station.” I thought it was so cool to start a song with “and,” because it’s like you’re just dropping someone into the middle of a story.

While “You Got Me” is a bright spot, a lot of this album leans more toward the somber and dark. What are your thoughts on the catharsis and healing that can come from writing through difficult times such as the ones you’re encountering here?

The album is titled Little Blue for a reason. We are remiss to forget how significant the pandemic was and how devastatingly sad that period of time in our collective human history was. A good chunk of these songs were written during that two-year period along with general ruminations about the sad and unjust world we live in that even the music industry isn’t immune from. It feels silly at times to whine and cry about the music industry when there’s so much other crazy stuff happening, but that’s the world I live in so I have to write through that.

I wouldn’t say that writing songs is cathartic for me as much as sharing in the collective. What grabs me about music is when it feels real and is relatable to me and I hope that I’ve done that here with what I’ve written about. Music is magical, so the fact that I get to do this at all is amazing and continues to drive me. I’m never not going to be amazed by music. For instance, I took a harmonica lesson the other day with Ilya Portnov, who also plays on the record. I’ve done a little bit of Bob Dylan-esque singer-songwriter harmonica, but I really wanted to understand the harp a little bit better. It’s a magical feeling when the music and notes and scale are all working together. I feel endlessly humbled by it and very proud that I get to be a small ripple in the river of music.

What did the process of bringing Little Blue to life teach you about yourself?

That I’m gonna keep doing it regardless of if it makes any sense at all. I didn’t get my record deal until after everything for this album was done, meaning that I funded it all myself. It was a lot to handle, because making records isn’t cheap, especially if you’re paying people what they deserve to get paid. I feel very lucky and grateful for all the folks that lended their talent to this record. It made me realize that the more I keep pushing ahead to more everything will begin to make sense around me. It’s a mix of perseverance and understanding that good things take time and intention. I feel really good about this record and even though it’s only my third, and first in six years, I’m glad to put it out in the world because we need art now more than ever.


Photo Credit: Schuyler Howie

BGS 5+5: DownRiver Collective

Artist: DownRiver Collective
Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee
Latest Release: “Come On Back” (single)
Personal Nicknames (or rejected band names): The Upstream Association

Which artist has influenced you the most – and how?

Well, this one is pretty easy for me, as it’s the artist I’m named after, Alison Krauss. One of my earliest memories is of my dad and I driving around town with her album, Live, on repeat. I was only about 4 or so at the time, but you best believe I sang every single word at the top of my lungs. The wild thing is, I still can’t rid myself of that album. It still plays through at least 4 times a week on my commute to and from work. That album, that voice, changed the course of my life. It was through singing along to Alison that I nurtured my love for singing. I found myself at an early age trying to mimic every bend, run, and glottal.

Through the course of my life, I found myself listening to other artists and genres, but somehow it always came back to Alison. I never saw myself singing bluegrass music, but it was in college when I broke out my Alison Krauss repertoire that I fell in love with the genre all over again. And I couldn’t be fully transparent about my adoration of Alison Krauss without mentioning the fact that she’s an absolute boss. Seeing a woman pave her own way for a younger generation of ladies in a male-dominated genre is so inspiring to me. – Ali Vance, lead singer

What has been the best advice you’ve received in your career so far?

I feel like some of the most meaningful advice that I’ve gotten from artists that I look up to has been pretty simple. I was told to always, first and foremost, be yourself. People are able to connect with songs more easily if there’s authenticity behind it. Another impactful piece of advice I got was to not ever compare yourself one-to-one with the artists that you look up to. Everybody has their own path and career arc to follow, and it’s always going to be different for everybody. I feel like these two things really go hand in hand. – Rico Wallenda, mandolin

What is a genre, album, artist, musician, or song that you adore that would surprise people?

This would come as a surprise to absolutely no one who has spent any time around me, but I absolutely adore pop divas. Right now, the ladies that are in regular rotation are Ariana Grande, Sabrina Carpenter, Dua Lipa, and Chappell Roan. I know it’s a little cliché, but there is something to it. On the one hand, it’s all about the vocalists. Any time a vocalist is as good as any of those ladies, I just find it so compelling and moving. I’ve also been really into Celine Dion, Kelly Clarkson, Whitney Houston– the list goes on. It’s just so awe-inspiring to listen to gifted singers like that.

On the other hand, the pop stars I listed all have a believablity factor that you can’t ignore when you listen to the music. That authenticity draws me to many different genres and artists, but it’s especially compelling with some of these current pop stars. Bailey [Warren, fiddle] and I often talk about these singers when we’re on the road, drowning the rest of the van in Olivia Rodrigo albums (Bailey’s favorite) and Ariana Grande records. – Jonny Therrien, guitar, Dobro

Does pineapple really belong on pizza?

Here’s the deal: Yes. I think we need to broaden our scope, expand our horizons. Food is just so good. And it isn’t nobody hurting anyone or damaging anything by putting a delicious fruit on their pizza. I think we live in a world where we can celebrate pizza as a pillar of food heritage and be thankful for all it has given to us while we push the boundaries of our pizza pleasures and discover new food frontiers. I love a classic pizza as much as anyone, I even order plain cheese pizza from Domino’s as an adult (did that last week). I also love a nice Hawaiian pie. There are multitudes in between, and here’s the good news: It’s all good. So let’s put this thing to rest once, at least for us right now. Pineapple does belong on pizza. Life is too short, and pizza is too good to be choosy. These are some things that I live by. – JT

What’s the toughest time you ever had writing a song?

We’ve spent a lot of time over the last few years figuring out how we write best together. We’re a big ensemble and getting that many creatives to be on the same page about anything can be tough. What used to be sort of a tricky thing to figure out has turned into each of us individually knowing our strengths and weaknesses better while chipping away at what it is that makes us sound like us. Mixing all our influences can be hard because sometimes those influences and the reflexes they’ve instilled into each of us individually can be at odds with one another.

The specific song that comes to mind is one that we recorded in January for our next album. The song was originally inspired by a sassy Alison Krauss number, which was a tune we had fallen in love with covering. Our earliest iterations of the song were marked by herky-jerky feels, strangely placed jazz chords, and lyrics that didn’t really convey the feeling we were after. At several different points, we were convinced the song was nearly finished except for maybe a lyrical tweak here and there. Finally, when we were in pre-production with Caleb Edwards and Eli Broxham, who co-produced our album, we explored a lot options: we re-arranged the structure, wrote new verses, found homes for the spicy chords, and settled on a rhythmic feel that matched the song’s sentiment perfectly. It felt like we had done the impossible: we pleased each of our artistic instincts in a song that we all had loved and hated at different times. In our show, we talk about this song as being the one that we had to write three times before it was good enough for the record.

That’s not even the end of the song’s story! I was talking to [John] Gray, our banjo player, last week and told him I dug what he did on the intro kick to the tune. Gray told me, “Yeah, I asked Caleb about the very last phrase of it, and he said he liked it, but had doubts about the other parts. The last phrase was the only part of the kick that I had doubts about, I was sure about everything else. So that’s when I knew that the whole intro was right.” – JT


Photo Credit: Tippy // Emily Cowherd

Out Now: Jaimee Harris

Jaimee Harris is a thoughtful songwriter, a kind and quirky human, and an insightful individual. It was an honor to speak with her about her upcoming tour, the inspiration behind her songs, and how she takes care of her mental health in a demanding industry. Our conversation touches on everything from her daily routine – right down to crafting the perfect cup of coffee each morning – to how she stays grounded on the road, to the process behind her songwriting.

We dive into her haunting song, “Orange Avenue,” written about the tragic shooting at the Pulse LGBTQ+ nightclub in Orlando, Florida – a thoughtful and chilling track. We also explore the details of the title track of her 2023 album, Boomerang Town, a story song rooted in both fact and fiction. It follows intriguing characters with intricate pasts, the restless ache to escape small-town limits and achieve something big, and the soul-crushing realities of a harsh world.

I hope you can feel Jaimee’s humor, intellect, and warmth through this interview.

You have four months of touring coming up. You’re playing shows across the U.S. and you’re also headlining a tour in the Netherlands and Belgium. How does all of that feel and what are you most excited and anxious about?

Jaimee Harris: Mary [Gauthier] and I just got home from being on this incredible thing called Cayamo, which is like a floating music festival on a cruise ship. We were on that boat for seven or eight days and just got home last night. We leave again this weekend for tour. So I’m trying to pretend I’m not home right now. Because if I switch into this mentality of, “I’m home now,” then that just disrupts the system. So I’m looking at this week as if I’m still on the road. With just like a couple days off.

I’m so excited about touring the Netherlands. It’s one of my favorite places to play. It’s one of my favorite places to be. I love the people there. I love the culture there. And it’s been cool because I’ve been over there many times as an opening act, but I’ve never done my whole set there. And it’s been my experience that the people in the Netherlands can really handle and really enjoy the dark songs.

How do you find constantly being on the road? And, how do you balance that with mental health?

Well, I’ve learned that I need to have a couple of things in place to make me feel comfortable and it doesn’t take much, but one of them that is so important to me is my coffee, which might seem silly. But there’s this coffee I love from Austin, it’s called Third Coast, and Mary Gauthier, my partner, used to run restaurants in Boston and one of the only things she kept from her restaurants when she sold them to move to Nashville to become a songwriter is this industrial coffee grinder.

Every morning we grind it and make espresso and that’s like a huge part of my joy. And we bring it on the road with us. I bring a little kettle and my Hydro Flask, I’m a Hydro Flask girl.

Me too! Mine is right here! [Pulls up Hydro Flask]

Amazing! I love them so much. So the water bottle is a huge deal on the road.

Every morning when I start my day with that coffee, it sets me up for success. Having a little bit of routine to keep me tethered to something while we’re on the road is really helpful. I’ve found that I can always find 15 minutes throughout the day to move my body. Making that a priority for me helps everything while I’m on the road. I love being on the road. Today, since we just got home yesterday, I’ve just been on the couch all day. Re-entry is always hard for me. So today I’m just watching movies and being a weirdo on the couch.

Could you tell us about your recent interactions with Emmylou Harris?

I think coming off this thing we just did on the boat was incredible and Emmylou Harris is my number one hero of all time.

Her guitar tech, Maple Byrne, gave us a heads up a few weeks ago that Emmy might want me to play guitar and sing with her for this [songwriters] round we were in. I literally was driving a car in the Hill Country in Texas and I had to pull the car over and scream. I was like, “There’s no way! That’s my number one hero!” And I didn’t even believe it was gonna happen until it happened.

Earlier that day [during Cayamo], I played a show as me on the boat. Twenty minutes before I played, security walked Emmylou Harris and her friend to my show. I literally had to run to the bathroom! I was like, “I’m gonna be sick. I can’t handle this. This is crazy! THIS IS CRAZY!” I literally forgot the first two lines of the first song, because I was so in shock. I just couldn’t believe that happened and then I got to play with her later that afternoon. My wildest dreams have come true!

You’ve mentioned Mary a little bit. What has it been like for you to find a partner, Mary Gauthier, who is both a partner in life and also a partner in music, playing shows and touring together?

It’s been incredible. I have learned so much from her about what it is to be a troubadour from the business side of things. She’s so wise, because she came to music after running three restaurants. She has a lot of business experience that she’s been able to apply to the world of being a troubadour, which is incredible. She’s been able to do what she does inside her own integrity in a way that’s really beautiful to learn from. And I get to live in a house with one of the greatest living songwriters. I truly think she’s one of the greatest songwriters of all time, and it’s made me a better writer. Just getting to watch her, how hard she works on songs. She is a real hard worker. I mean, she’s got a lot of natural talent, but she chisels and chisels and chisels songs out of the marble. And so it’s made me up my editing game.

Your song “Boomerang Town” is so beautiful and relatable and intimate; it’s a story-song format. How did you come up with the idea for “Boomerang Town” and what does that song mean to you?

It came in different stages. I’d always wanted to write a song about where I grew up. I’m from a small town just outside of Waco, Texas. I remember being in my early twenties and trying to explain to people where I grew up and I came up with the phrase, “It’s a boomerang town.” People try to leave, they end up going back there pretty quick. That phrase had been in my mind for a while.

In 2017, I got asked if I wanted to sing a verse of “This Land Is Your Land” during this 4th of July celebration. The songwriter hosting the song said, “What verse do you want?” I said I want the steeple verse. The verse is: “In the shadow of the steeple, I saw my people/ By the relief office, I saw my people/ They stood there hungry, and so I stood there asking/ Was this land made for you and me?” In my hometown, there’s an interstate, I-35, that runs through the center of it and on the east side of that interstate there’s a steeple from the Truett Seminary in town and on the west side there are two relief offices. The interstate creates a bridge and there’s been a community of people living under that bridge for decades, like my entire life.

When I saw those words, I saw my hometown. The songwriter said, “I always thought Woody got it wrong with that verse.” I couldn’t believe that he would have such a different take on that verse; that planted a little seed for me. I worked on that song for years. I tried a bunch of different perspectives. I initially started with myself and I couldn’t find a way for the song to move forward if I was the narrator. I tried it from the perspective of a veteran. Then I tried it from the perspective of a woman who worked at a cafe. I decided her name was going to be Julie, because I’m a huge fan of Buddy and Julie Miller. I finally landed on the perspective of the 17-year-old boy who worked at Walmart that knocked up his girlfriend. Which is a combination of me when I worked at Walmart and somebody else I knew. That’s when the story started to take off.

I’ve had so many experiences where people came up to me and said, “Hey, you got that song perfectly right.” Like, “My brother died under that bridge, I know all about that scene.”

Also, being a woman from Texas, with the way things are going there – nationally and politically, that song, how it ends, has a way deeper impact than I could have imagined when I wrote it in 2020. The choices women had in 2020 are more than we have now in 2025. There’s no way I could have known that when I was writing it.

You’ve just passed 11 years of sobriety. Is there anything that you’d like to share about your sobriety, your support system, and addiction in general?

Well, I couldn’t have done it without 12-step recovery. I’m very active in 12-step recovery. That’s been my lifeboat, doing it with other people. Someone in recovery said this thing that has stuck with me: “At five years, you get your marbles back. And at 10 years, you get to play with them again.” I feel like that’s true. I’m learning every day.

I remember when I first got into recovery, people would say this thing that I could not understand, “I’m so grateful to be an alcoholic.” When I got there, it was through the criminal justice system, so I was going there to get a paper signed. I was like, “What are these people talking about?” I can’t tell you how many times over the last six years I’ve said, “I’m so grateful, because I have a support system in a time when a lot of people feel really isolated.”

You spent some time in Florida in 2022 and you wrote a song called “Orange Avenue” about the 2016 shooting at the Pulse LGBT nightclub. What does this song mean to you, and what was the process of writing it?

I decided to visit a bunch of spots in Florida to collect stories and write and record a song in each town. I spent a month traveling the state. I wasn’t even gonna go to Pulse, and then somebody mentioned it and I said, “Okay, I’ll check that out.” Everything about it really floored me. I was imagining this bar being in an entertainment district, where there are a bunch of bars. It isn’t like that, it’s a neighborhood bar. So it’s just house, house, house, house, a Dunkin’ Donuts across the street, and then Pulse. Of course it was a gay bar, but it was also a bar that you could get into if you were 18 and up. So it’s also a place where younger kids could get in and just go dance and have a good time. Which is why the youngest girl that was killed was 18 years old. She was there on vacation with her family.

Now it’s been deemed a national monument. When I was there, it was kind of makeshift. There are pictures of people, notes to loved ones, poems, just all sorts of tributes. Then there’s this one kind of official-looking plaque. It has the names of 48 people that died in the shooting. To the side of it says at the request of a family, one name has been left off this list. I was wondering, what’s the story there? I looked it up and it turns out there was a man of Middle Eastern descent and his family didn’t know he was gay until he died in the shooting.

They were ashamed of that. It took quite a long time for anyone to agree to come pick up his body. That’s how deep the shame was. At the time, I believe the police chief of Orlando was a lesbian and because of the element of it being a neighborhood bar, because there were people that were there just because they could get in because of their age, they weren’t necessarily going to come out and say, “Hey, this was a hate crime.” When they found out that that family didn’t want to come pick up their family member, they said, “We have to tell the world that this was a gay bar. This was a hate crime.”

I tried the song from my perspective, but it didn’t really have the impact that it did until I put it in a perspective of that man and his ghost and what it would be like to embody that man’s experience. It was an honor to write that song.


Photo Credit: Brandon Aguilar

Steve Treviño on Only Vans with Bri Bagwell

My fairly new and hilarious friend, Steve Treviño, kindly welcomed us into his home podcast studio to film this episode of Only Vans. We talk about sleeping with your road manager, comedy and music parallels, representing Mexican-American culture, The Comedy Store, mentors, and more.

LISTEN: APPLE • SPOTIFY • AMAZON • MP3

Comedian Steve Treviño must be one of the most generous, kind, and brilliant human beings. I know he’s hilarious, and we have spent tiny pockets of time together in passing before this interview, but this man is a legit all-around family man, entrepreneur, road warrior, and not to mention, an extreme giver of his time. As you’ll find out, he was going to Canada to do a big show the morning after this interview and still agreed to this somehow– and invited Kyle and I to use his podcast room at his house in the Texas Hill Country (because my RV was in the shop)!

In our Only Vans conversation, Steve and I get into what we have in common, like being on the road, being with a partner who is also an entertainer, and the parallels of the music biz and the comedy biz. I love his insider insight into Nashville vs. Texas and we talk about Steve being an integral part in opening Gruene Recording Studio, seven minutes from my house. His hustle is unmatched and it’s so beautiful how much he loves and supports Texas music. Wait ’til you hear his Pat Green story – and the Randy we mention a lot is, in fact, Randy Rogers.

Steve takes a phone call with his wife Renae mid-podcast, which ends up being our first comedic bit together about it potentially being about Steve having cancer… anyway, Renae is @iamrenaewithana on Instagram. She is equally as talented and brilliant, and Steve would probably argue she is more of those things than him. But give him and her a follow and if you have not seen Steve live, he’s going everywhere and his tour sells out quick! SteveTreviño.com is the website, and if you haven’t yet – what are you doing? – check out his comedy specials for down-to-earth, real-life, feel-good, truly memorable comedy!


 

SURPRISE! Billy Strings & Bryan Sutton Release ‘Live at the Legion’

A year ago today, on April 7, 2024, the American Legion Post 82 in East Nashville was packed to the gills with rabid flatpicking fans, geared up for a special appearance by two of the greats: Billy Strings and Bryan Sutton. Far from their first show together or their first collaboration, it was still one of the hottest tickets in Nashville and fans lined up down the sidewalk and up the drive of the humble Legion for their chance to witness bluegrass guitar history in the making.

To the delight of the many hundreds of thousands who would have but couldn’t also squeeze into the cinder block building known for two-stepping, honky-tonkin’, and bluegrass jams, today Strings and Sutton surprise released a live-recorded album of that evening’s show, Live at the Legion. Available digitally – with CDs and vinyl on the way August 1, and physical pre-order open now – it’s a two-disc, 20-song collection of traditional tunes, medleys, covers, and two of the most personality-rich and unique improvisational voices on the instrument.

Strings makes it no secret that, like many younger guitar pickers in bluegrass and adjacent styles, Bryan Sutton is a hero. The two have collaborated often in the past, formally and informally, getting together for jams and lessons, Strings appearing at and attending Sutton’s Blue Ridge Guitar Camp, performing as a duo at the Station Inn, Sutton guesting on stage with Strings and band, and more.

These are two generational talents, understood within and outside of bluegrass to be standard-setters for the instrument and for flatpicking at large. Together, their musical dialogues are entrancing, exciting, and as charming as they are downright unpredictable. Billy’s power and aggression on the six-string ease, while each player listens ardently and responds to the other with comfortability, or a wink, or a tasteful counterpoint, or an outburst-inducing surprise. Sutton is endlessly lyrical, drawing out such responses from Strings. For their level of chops, the collection rarely strays into self-involved jamming or ego-driven ideas.

Later this year, in September, Strings and Sutton will perform a short series of intimate duo shows to celebrate Live at the Legion – and give any who couldn’t be there in East Nashville in 2024 for the taping of the album another chance to catch the magic. The pair will appear at the Bluegrass Music Hall of Fame & Museum in Owensboro, Kentucky; at Nashville’s Ryman Auditorium; in Chattanooga, Tennessee; and in Boone, North Carolina with accompaniment by Strings’ bassist, Royal Masat. Due to anticipated demand, tickets for any/all of the shows must be requested by April 21, 2025, after which lottery winners will be notified. Sign up to request tickets here.

Bluegrass boasts many an iconic duo album, especially focused on the guitar. In the future, will we group Live at the Legion alongside other such definitive recordings as Blake & Rice? It seems almost inevitable. From Blake & Rice to Skaggs & Whitley, Watson & Monroe, and Grisman & Garcia – or even the just-released Carter & Cleveland – it seems immediately clear Billy Strings & Bryan Sutton’s Live at the Legion will be going down in bluegrass history. Tuck into this double album delight to see and hear why for yourself.


Photo Credit: Joshua Black Wilkins

KC Johns on Only Vans with Bri Bagwell

KC Johns is an incredible singer-songwriter and artist based in Nashville, Tennessee. We had an excellent Only Vans conversation live from the mountain at Steamboat MusicFest 2025! In this episode we get into old fashioneds, cruise ship jobs, Nashville, singing in the mountains, touring overseas, and more.

LISTEN: APPLE • SPOTIFY • AMAZON • MP3

KC Johns and I met over social media and we became fast friends. She is a whiskey girl like me and has her own mesquite-smoked Thunder Whiskey. This was a live-audience episode recorded and filmed at MusicFest in Steamboat, Colorado. The audio for her live acoustic performances ended up being unusable, totally on our end, and I am so sorry about that. KC is such a great live singer, but unfortunately the recording was too distorted to use. Please go see her sing live if you can, or check her out on Instagram.

During this episode, I jump into talking about her life as a cruise ship performer, and also provide no context when I bring up her super clever song, “I Wanna Rock for Christmas.” Sorry gal, I just love that tune!

Anyway, this is KC Johns. Check out her new single, “Break From the Heart,” and KC, I will come find your next Key West show at Hogs Breath and crash your stage!

And, happy birthday to Only Vans producer Kyle! You rock.


Photo Credit: Bob Pierce

Ride With Kelsey Waldon in Her Jeep “Comanche” as She Announces Her New Album

Kentuckian singer-songwriter Kelsey Waldon has announced her upcoming album, Every Ghost, (June 6, Oh Boy Records) with – you guessed it! – a song about a pickup truck. Do not worry your pretty little heads, though, as this is a truck song that’s definitely Good Country.

“Comanche” text paints a common image in country, long languid drives down rural backroads in your favorite truck. Your four-wheeled security blanket, your best friend with a tailgate. (Watch the brand new music video above.) Listeners can imagine riding along with Waldon, in the passenger seat, down some gravel track in far Western Kentucky, as she hums the tune, formulates the hook, and builds the song around her relationship with her trusty 1988 Jeep and the contemplations that keep her company as she drives. Did she write it while behind the wheel? If not, it certainly sounds that way.

Waldon has no concerns about her “authenticity” or being perceived as dyed-in-the-wool country; she’s been exactly who she is her entire life, and certainly her entire musical career. She leverages this confidence to take up a tired radio trope – the quintessential truck song – and turn it into something earnest, relatable, engaging, and somehow brand new. It’s a perfect song to take into the summer, for rolling the windows down, sipping a cold (soft) beverage out of a glass bottle, and blasting Good Country as the miles fly beneath the floorboards.

“Comanche” is an excellent debutante ball for the upcoming Every Ghost, a nine-track album that promises to continue Waldon’s penchant for real, raw, original country that’s not too concerned about being mainstream or outlaw, “legit” or “poser.” The Kentucky native doesn’t make music or write songs for that reason, anyway. For Waldon, it’s all about expression. About finding a thread that feels grounded, down to earth, and emotive and pulling for all its worth. Doing so, she untangles plenty of simple and resonant songs that straddle alt-country, bluegrass, mainstream sounds, old-time, and much more. “Comanche,” on the surface, is a truck song, but even a moment with the lyrics shows the subjects it turns over are much more complex and in-depth.

This kind of creative work isn’t the only thing she’s been hauling. Every Ghost finds the artist challenging herself and growing beyond the sonics, production, and recordings, too. “There’s a lot of hard-earned healing on this record,” Waldon shares via press release. “I’ve put in the work not only to better myself and leave behind bad habits, but also to learn to love my past selves. It took time and experience, but I’ve come to find compassion for who I was, and that’s a major part of this album.”

Waldon’s music has always been honest, it’s always been confident, but Every Ghost still feels like the dawning of a new era. Where that honesty and confidence are underpinned by a fresh sense of ease and a trust in herself. Like the trust she has in her reliable old friend, the Jeep Comanche.


Photo Credit: Alysse Gafkjen

Jason Carter & Michael Cleveland’s New Album is a Fantastic Twin Fiddle Workshop

Following more than 30 years since first meeting and countless times sharing the stage during festivals, the two most accomplished fiddlers in International Bluegrass Music Association history have finally teamed up for their debut album together.

Released March 14 via Fiddle Man Records, the aptly titled Carter & Cleveland sees the combined 18-time IBMA Fiddle Players of the Year Jason Carter and Michael Cleveland flexing their bluegrass muscles on compositions from some of the most prolific songwriters around – like Darrell Scott, John Hartford, Tim O’Brien, and Del McCoury.

Coincidentally, it was with McCoury and his sons’ band, the Travelin’ McCourys, with whom Carter spent the last 33 years playing until the February announcement that he’d be stepping away from the groups to focus on his solo material and collaborative projects, like this one with Cleveland.

“I just thought it was time to start pursuing other things, like my own career,” explains Carter about his decision to leave the bands. “That being said, I never thought I’d be leaving the [Del McCoury] Band. I recently gave a fiddle lesson and the person I was teaching told me he was surprised I left the band and I remember telling him, ‘I’m kind of surprised too.’ [Laughs] But it’s so rewarding to be doing something new with my own band along with getting to play with Mike.

“I’m also really excited to see the McCourys play with their new mandolin player, Christian Ward,” he continues. “There’s no bigger fan of Del or the Travelin’ McCourys than me. This will be the first time since I was 18 years old that I’ll be able to sit out in the audience and watch his show. I can’t wait!”

It was also with McCoury where Cleveland, then 13, first met Carter back in the early ’90s during one of Carter’s (then 19) first gigs with him.

“[The Del McCoury Band] has always had the players that I aspire to be like,” says Cleveland. “I remember going to and recording the band’s shows from the soundboard when Jason was just starting out with them. Then I’d go home and try to play guitar over the recordings to best imitate each part. They quickly became some of my biggest influences in this music, and still are.”

Ahead of the album’s release, BGS spoke with Carter & Cleveland over the phone to discuss the duo’s years-long partnership, the process of bringing this record to life, and their thoughts on the history of duo records in bluegrass music.

You have tunes from Del McCoury, Darrell Scott, John Hartford, Bill Monroe, Buck Owens and other roots music legends on this project, but no originals. What was behind that decision?

Jason Carter: Well, for me, I didn’t have any original tunes at the time we started doing this, so I just started throwing out songs I liked. Then I called some songwriters – Tim O’Brien, Terry Herd, Darrell Scott, and others – and the songs I liked most of what they sent I then played for Mike. I’ve only written one fiddle tune so far, but actually have four or five writing sessions lined up this week, so maybe if there’s a Carter & Cleveland Volume II, I could have a cut on there.

Michael Cleveland: We’ve talked about needing to sit down and write together, it just hasn’t come to fruition yet. When I’ve sat in with Del or Jason in the past we never had time to rehearse, which is similar to how these songs came together. We were able to talk about material and send things back and forth, but we didn’t have much time to sit down and rehearse before recording because we’re both so busy. I hope we get to do that someday, but at the same time songwriting isn’t the main focus for me. I know folks that’ll write a tune every day, but for me that only happens once in a while; when it does I make sure to run with it.

What are some standout songs for y’all on this project?

JC: That’s tough, because I like all the songs on the record. At any given time I could have a different favorite. There’s also some that didn’t make the record we still have in the can and might put out later that could actually be my favorite songs. That being said, I really like the part of “With a Vamp in the Middle” where [Mike] finger picks the fiddle while I’m strumming…

MC: That was your idea!

JC: I heard you play something that sparked that. [Laughs] When you’re in the room as a fiddle player and you hear Michael Cleveland play, it’s all special. He [is] leagues above everyone else.

MC: It’s hardly ever a problem that you have too many good songs, but that was definitely the case when we went in to record. As soon as we put the word out about it we had a bunch of our musical heroes sending us songs to record and they were all great! When I first heard the demo of “Give It Away” from Tim O’Brien I liked the song immediately. Tim was playing old-time banjo on it in the key of D while singing, but once I heard Jason sing it in the key of B I knew it was meant to be a hard-driving bluegrass song.

I also really enjoy “Kern County Breakdown.” The only time I’d ever heard that – which made me want to record it – was from Alison Krauss. She used to play it as a fiddle instrumental and I always wish she recorded it. I don’t know if it’ll happen, but I’m still holding out hope that she’ll put out a fiddle album one day.

She does have her first album in 10 years dropping later this month, so you never know!

Throughout the history of bluegrass music there have been many timeless duo records from the likes of Ralph Stanley & Jimmy Martin to Ricky Skaggs & Tony Rice to Bill Monroe & Doc Watson. What are your thoughts on being the next chapter in that series of collaborations?

JC: I hadn’t really thought of it like that before…

MC: If this album is mentioned in the same breath as any of those, that would be great! We also talk a lot about our favorite twin fiddle albums, which this seems to be more of, and have tossed around the idea of doing this project for 15 years. There’s albums from Kenny Baker and Bobby Hicks, Buddy Spicher and Benny Martin, Buddy and Vassar Clements, and so many more, but there hasn’t been one for a long time now. That’s what originally inspired us to do this. In the last few years people have also finally figured out what a great singer Jason is, which afforded us a lot more room to experiment than if it were a twin fiddle instrumental album.

JC: Mike just has such a good ear. I remember sending him a couple versions of demos I played and sang on and he’d immediately get back to me with suggestions like adding a fiddle lick at the beginning, like on “Outrun The Rain.” He thought it would be great for a high harmony thing two above the lead. As soon as he heard this stuff he had ideas. It was really cool to see how that all came together.

Mike just mentioned the idea for this album has been floating around for 15 years. When did y’all eventually get to work on it?

JC: We started recording a couple years ago. The first session we recorded we actually did at [guitarist] Cody Kilby’s house during COVID, then it was another year or so after that until we got working on it again. Because we didn’t have any rehearsal time, I remember sending voice memos of myself playing fiddle, guitar, and/or singing to Mike to listen to and send suggestions back. I remember being at a show with Del tucked away in the dressing room by myself trying to record versions of these songs or trying to run through an arrangement before sending it to Mike through text message.

MC: I had a great run with the label I was previously involved with, Compass Records, but they weren’t really interested in collaboration albums. With all of my projects and Jason as busy as he is, we were always just in the middle of other things until Jason put out [2022’s Lowdown Hoedown] and I completed [2023’s Lovin’ Of The Game]. It was around that time we decided to take the leap and finally start working on this.

Speaking of taking a leap, I know y’all co-produced this record too. What was your motivation behind that?

MC: We had talked about bringing somebody in. I’ve worked with Jeff White for years on my albums. In a way he helped to produce this one too, which is fitting because I always felt like we co-produced my albums together. For this record there were people we’d send stuff to listen to, even down to the final mixes, just because we respect their opinions, but the final calls were all us.

JC: Even when you’ve got someone like Bryan Sutton in the studio for tracking, he may have an idea he throws out that becomes a big help as well. That could come from anyone involved in the session, even engineer Sean Sullivan, who we leaned on heavily as well because they do this every day. These people are here for a good reason, because they’re super talented and play some of our favorite music. And when it comes to Cleve, I’m all ears. He always has good advice.

MC: When you first start recording, you don’t always know what sounds good. It’s like with playing, singing, or anything else, the more you put yourself in those situations the more you understand what you want to hear and how to achieve it. Working with Jeff in the past, we’d be together during the day when all of the sudden he’d say, “Hey Mike, I gotta take off for a few hours, produce for a while.” It freaked me out the first time he did that, but it forced me to get comfortable in the situation and forced me to trust my ear more. Jeff having that faith in me also gave me a little more confidence in myself that I was making the correct decisions and to continue trusting my instincts.

JC: With the Travelin’ McCourys, all of those records were produced by the band along with most of the stuff we did with Del, too. I did produce my solo record, Lowdown Hoedown, though. But even on that, when we were recording Sam [Bush] and Jerry Douglas were there. I remember Jerry – who produced a lot of the McCourys’ stuff early on – always had great ideas on arrangements and different things to put in when he spoke up, which was a huge help. Getting to be in the studio with him is an education you can’t get anywhere else.

Jason, you briefly spoke of a few of the album’s players there. But they’re far from the only top-notch pickers you have on this record, with the likes of Vince Gill, Charlie Worsham, and Sierra Hull, among others. How’d y’all go about deciding who to bring into the fold?

JC: We just tried to think of who would best fit with the songs as we listened to demos for each.

MC: It also came down to who was available at certain times. Guys like Bryan Sutton, Cory Walker, and Alan Bartram played on most of it. I remember days where Sam Bush was available on mandolin and others where Harry Clark filled in. Some of the first sessions we did after the pandemic were with Cody Kilby and Casey Campbell followed by David Grier and Dominick [Leslie].

And going back to something Jason said earlier, I also leaned on Bryan a lot, specifically about what songs he thought it would be good to have Sam on, which led to his inclusion on “Middle of Middle Tennessee” and a few others.

What has music, specifically the process of bringing this record to life, taught you about yourselves?

MC: This was one of the first things I’ve done without a producer being there. Most of the time we would agree on decisions, but other times you don’t know what the right thing is and somebody has to make the call, because that’s typically something a producer would do. When it’s just you there’s no question, but when you’re working with somebody you want to make sure it’s a collaboration and not one person running the ship. Recording this album has taught me to be more aware of that.

JC: The singing part of this too, that’s still pretty new to me. I’ve sung on other people’s records, my solo album and with the Travelin’ McCourys, but being the lead singer throughout is a new venture for me and something I really enjoyed getting to do with Michael.

What do the two of you appreciate most about one another as both musicians and people?

JC: Everything about Mike’s playing, he’s just on another planet right now, and as a person he’s the same way. I recently got married and Mike was my best man, because no matter what he does he is the best man!

MC: Hearing Jason play with Del, he’s always been the fiddler I’ve wanted to be. We’re both into the same stuff, which is why I think we work together so well. It’s why we’re able to jump on stage and play twin fiddles without rehearsing, which is usually a mess when you do that. Getting to work with him on this album has been a dream come true for me.


Photo Credit: Lead image by Sam Wiseman. Square image by Emma McCoury.