Tag: Nashville

Embrace the Past,
Move Forward

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Music has and continues to be a form of healing for Fancy Hagood. The Arkansas-raised singer who takes his forename from the Drake song – not the Bobbie Gentry and Reba McEntire hit – first began writing songs as a queer junior high student struggling to fit in before dropping out of school at 17 to chase his newfound dreams in Nashville.

Despite growing up listening to everything from contemporary Christian music to The Chicks, Shania Twain, Tim McGraw, Destiny’s Child, and Missy Elliott, it was choir and theatre that brought Hagood’s own creative aspirations to life.

“I really found myself in those classes,” Hagood tells Good Country. “I was dealing with a lot of bullying at the time and writing music became one of the few ways I could truly express myself.”

But upon his arrival to Nashville, Hagood was told that a career as a queer country musician was unlikely. This was followed by a move to Los Angeles, coupled with a transition to pop, that led to him to opening for the likes of Meghan Trainor and Ariana Grande as he juggled a day job at Forever 21. Those opportunities coincided with a decrease in creative control over his own work, something he’s taken back for himself on 2021’s Southern Curiosity and his most recent project, American Spirit, which released October 25.

“I was hell-bent on this album not being a breakup record, but instead one about healing, moving forward, and finding yourself,” Hagood says of American Spirit. “I don’t want to be on the road singing songs about my ex, but I do want to sing about reclaiming your story, bouncing back, and that being the most powerful thing after experiencing something like that.”

Speaking on the phone from his Nashville home, Hagood detailed his ambitious Music City move, experiences with gatekeeping, his work with Apple Music, and more.

What was it like for you moving to Nashville so young? I imagine on one hand it’s quite empowering, but it can also be overwhelming too.

Fancy Hagood: On my song “Fly Away” I sing, “You were scared as hell to take the highway/ You barely knew how to drive…” and that’s the truth. I got my driver’s license when I was 16 and I never drove on the highway until I moved to Nashville, so it was very much a culture shock. I know a lot of people don’t view Nashville as a big city compared to New York or Los Angeles, but when you’re coming from small-town Arkansas it felt like the whole world had opened up for myself. There were parts of it that were really intimidating, but for the most part I had so much enthusiasm that you couldn’t really tell me anything. I had this idea that I was going to be a country superstar and you couldn’t tell me otherwise.

I know things haven’t always been easy for you though. You’ve dealt with some gatekeeping and other hurdles along the way. What’s that been like?

Before I moved to LA, I was getting all this attention in Nashville, selling out shows on my own. A lot was going on for not having any music out in the world yet. I quickly got a publishing deal, but instead of things taking off from there I started getting a bunch of people putting their own opinions on me and putting their own stuff into my music, thus limiting me because of their own fears. That was something I never had going into all of this – fear. It’s a complicated thing when you start mixing art and commerce. The powers that be recognize you have talent, but in figuring out how to make money from it they start thinking of Middle America and who’s going to buy it, leading to a fear game rather than just letting the artist be an artist.

When I moved to LA and got a record deal, that’s where other people’s fears began sinking into my own train of thought and my delusion began slipping away. I was accomplishing all these things, from performing on Dancing With the Stars to hitting the road with Ariana Grande, but on the inside I felt miserable. I realized I’d sacrificed so much of myself and my art to get to a place where other people found it comfortable for me to be successful, but a year and a half into it I just imploded and lost all the deals.

It wasn’t until moving back to Nashville in 2016 that I was able to shake all that off. In 2018 I signed a new publishing deal and began work on my album Southern Curiosity, a slow burn that didn’t release until 2021. It was a really difficult transition having [to go from] a Top 40 hit and everyone treating you like you’re the king of the castle to no hits, no deals, and nobody wants to touch you with a ten-foot pole. It was a humbling experience that taught me that the industry in place was not set up for someone like me to be successful. Because of that, my train of thought stopped being about how do I fit into the industry to thinking about how to create my own, which is exactly what I’ve been doing since Southern Curiosity.

One way you’ve been building that community you speak of is through your role as the host of Trailblazers Radio on Apple Music. What’s that gig meant to you?

I’ve never experienced a company that puts their money where their mouth is quite like Apple. They were supportive of me and my first record before hosting a radio show was even a thought. They first came to me after I guest-hosted on the late Leslie Jordan’s Apple Radio show, which I did three or four times with him. After that, they approached me with the Trailblazers idea and threw me into the deep end. When they offered it to me in 2021 I’d never done radio before and just recently we were picked up for our fourth season. My idea is to feature artists who don’t typically get those opportunities, allowing country music to be for everyone. If you look at our playlist you’ll see all kinds of artists on there, not just what country radio suggests Nashville is.

It’s also been meaningful getting to sit across from actual legends and people who have shattered the glass ceiling in country music. Each artist that’s come through our doors has taught me that not one artist’s journey is the same, which has done a lot for inspiring, motivating, and informing me as an artist.

Are there any particular moments or guests from the show that stand out?

I’d never met Jelly Roll before he came in for his interview and his heart just blew me away. Who he is at his core is so full of joy and his philanthropic side was really inspiring to me. He had just sold out Bridgestone Arena and donated all the money to an organization that helps incarcerated youth. Even when we weren’t recording he was wanting to know more about me, my art, and what I do. He’s just a stand-up person.

A moment ago you mentioned Leslie Jordan, whose loss you touch on (along with your grandmother’s) on the song “Good Grief.” I guess that goes back to songwriting being a method of healing?

Yeah, it came about during a writing session with my friend Jeremy Lutito on a particularly solemn day. We were both in sad moods, but in typical fashion when two guys are alone in a room the last thing they’ll do is ask, “What’s on your heart?” We got to talking about a situation with his family where their dog had passed away the night before, which led to a conversation about grief and having to walk his kids through it for the first time. As he was telling me this I just fell apart thinking of how grief is such a hard thing to come to terms with and reckon with, but sometimes it’s ultimately a good thing. We’d been struggling all day, but that song came about in only an hour or so. It was pure magic.

I’ve seen you refer to this album as a “breakup record,” and I feel like one song that really captures that essence is the title track, “American Spirit.” How’d it come about?

I wrote that with Gina Venier and Summer Overstreet. It started with this idea of cigarette season or a time in your life where you’re smoking and stressed. But with Gina, who’s also a queer artist, it evolved into a song about becoming someone else’s vice. It’s not an unheard-of story in the South, people not being able to fully speak to who they are or how they feel – there’s a lot of closet cases among us. I’ve dealt with that a lot in my time in Nashville and I know others have, too. The song is mostly a nod to those experiences and being an openly queer person dealing with others who aren’t open but are addicted to your openness and freedom and not being able to let that go.

What has music taught you about yourself?

It’s taught me that I’m resilient and can get through anything along with the power of believing in yourself. I’ve gone through a lot in this industry, but I keep coming back. This is what I love and I’m never going to stop.

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Photo Credit: Natalie Osborne

‘Welcome to the Plains’ and to the Red Dirt Universe of Wyatt Flores

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Each year, the country music machine and its many fans and acolytes turn over, again and again and again, the quintessential question of “What is authenticity?” We’ve asked that very question quite a few times on Good Country over the last year ourselves, and we know as long as roots music and folk music are made, listeners will continue to ponder what is or isn’t “real,” “raw,” or… “authentic.”

Wyatt Flores has been chosen as authentic. Country Music has spoken, and this quickly skyrocketing young artist has been riding a wave lately surfed by folks like Sierra Ferrell, Tyler Childers, Colter Wall, and Zach Top. Like these real country “poster children,” Flores’ music is realistic and grounded. It isn’t idealized revisionism in outlaw trappings. His songs never attempt to sugarcoat or mythologize, paving over the complications of rural life, red dirt realness, or the gritty patina of a rural places – like his homeland of Oklahoma.

Flores’ new album, Welcome to the Plains, is decidedly and delightfully trad country with nearly universal critical and listener acclaim. He currently racks up 3.5 million streams a month on Spotify alone, bolstered by a series of incredibly popular and consistently viral singles and EPs leading up to this, his full-length debut. For so many writers, diehard fans, and critics, Flores has long been “one to watch,” but that visibility stretches further and wider, to listeners across the country and around the world from so many different backgrounds and starting points.

Part of the reason why such a young artist with a relatively nascent career could have already amassed such a coalition of followers is that realistic, unguarded, “I know who I am, even though I’m still figuring out where I’m going” approach. It’s evident in his artistry, his performing prowess, and his skill for songwriting – all of which are evidenced prominently across this album.

Welcome to the Plains is one of the most remarkable records of 2024; it continues a tone long set in Flores’ career and music, even before this current inflection point and its substantial momentum. Wyatt Flores is bound for longevity, for many more successes, for many more millions of plays, as long as he remains exactly who he is: Wyatt Flores.

Your music has such a strong sense of place, so I wanted to start by talking about Oklahoma and growing up there. You’re down to earth in the way that you talk about Oklahoma from the beginning of the album, from the first notes of the title track. You’re viewing it in a very realistic way, not just in an idealized way. Can you talk about how Oklahoma inspired the album and what “home” means to you?

Wyatt Flores: When you think about Oklahoma, you have to [barely] scratch the surface to know that the history behind it is pretty screwed up, how Oklahoma came about, and we’re not one of the best states, if that makes sense? We’re 49th in education. And we’ve got a lot of people from California moving there just because it’s cheaper and everything else, but to live in Oklahoma, you gotta bear through the weather.

Then also, every year is a coin toss if things are going to grow, right? This year’s been a struggle up until this past couple of weeks, [during] which we just got like a foot of rain. But yeah, it’s been one of the hardest places to really build. And the people are so damn nice in Oklahoma, but it’s a tough place to live. Most people don’t want it. But I love it. “Welcome to the Plains,” it’s trying to describe [Oklahoma] … in the verses I really wanted to try and find more of a nature side to it, and then by the chorus just really tell the truth about it.

It feels really authentic and grounded, but you can still hear that you love Oklahoma in it, too. I think that’s a really interesting combination. Country is really good at rural America propaganda – and I love rural America, so I’m for it, to a degree – but to me, your album doesn’t feel like it has to close an eye to the history of Oklahoma to love it.

Yeah, it was a fun journey to try. I was sitting there just trying not to write songs about the road, because that was the only thing that I was doing. I was like, “This is the only life I’m living.” And not many people know what it’s like to be on a bus or on tour – at that time we were still in the van. It was more so daydreaming about home, missing the place, and then just trying to find the memories to piece everything together.

And I had a lot of weird influences, like “Little Town,” I was really trying to find the same feeling as listening to “Pink Houses” by John Mellencamp. I don’t write too many happy songs, and I was not in a good headspace in that time period. For some reason, I guess I was just daydreaming of a better life, and I kept writing about home, but in a different format of not always missing it.

Another song that really captures this topic is “Stillwater.” I love that it has this sort of dark, contemplative tinge and it feels gritty. Could talk a little bit about writing “Stillwater” and about your relationship with “home” and the construction of “home”? That’s such a country tradition as well, not just talking about home and missing it, but understanding that home is a nebulous, intangible thing, even if it literally exists.

There’s a lot of bands that say they come from Stillwater, but they really just started in Stillwater and they came from a different area, since it is a college town. But I was born and raised there in Stillwater. All my life the college has been my backyard. When I wrote that song in the summer of ’22, I had my guitar player with me and my fiddle player’s husband and we sat down to write that. It was more so just trying to give people a different perspective on what it’s like to actually grow up in a college town, because it’s a vicious cycle of the same shit – like, no one else sees it, because they’re living inside of the four years of going [to college].

And me also being a college dropout, I never got to actually go to [Oklahoma State University]. I went to OSUIT in Okmulgee, Oklahoma. And that did not last long. [Laughs] But yeah, I was like, “No one’s ever actually talked shit on a hometown and actually put the name in it.” So I was just being ballsy with it. I had to change quite a few lyrics, because I kind of went a little too far. I probably would have pissed a lot of people off.

The song was intentional. I don’t know, [I wanted to] make people think differently. Because that is my home. A lot of times, you just see people take advantage of the town, and the town keeps growing. Every single time I come back home now, there’s another chicken place and another damn car wash. I was like, “How many do we need?” Good lord. I was really pissed off in the mindset of it. I’m glad that we captured it, because for a while, I was scared to release it just because I was like, “People are gonna think that I hate Stillwater.” But really, it’s still a love song towards it.

It feels like you’re loving Stillwater, you’re loving Oklahoma, but your love for it requires you to look at it through an accurate lens and not an idealized version of it.

And it’s a relationship. My relationship with that town has just been back and forth. You’ll have that resentment, and you’ll have that frustration with it, but you still love it. It’s crazy to think about it that way, through that lens, but that’s what it is.

You touched on your co-writing process and I was excited to see how forward your own writing and your own perspective is on this album. Can you describe your co-writing and collaboration process for these songs? I noticed, too, that Ketch Secor co-wrote the title track.

When I wrote with Ketch, that was super cool. ‘Cause I had just gotten done watching Killers of the Flower Moon. I was already so inspired by that and wanting to really speak some truth. But not just by absolutely laying into people on the bad shit that’s going on – you can’t force-feed people. When we sat down [to write, Ketch] said that he wanted to write shit about Oklahoma and I was like, “That works out great!” The song just came together and it was it’s one of the coolest things, because I didn’t know how to feel about it quite yet. I was like, “This has some good shit in there…” and then when we went to record it, I was like, “Here it is! This is the way it’s supposed to go.”

But with the writing of this entire album, I was scared shitless. I didn’t think I was good enough, and I didn’t think these songs were good enough for an album. I started overthinking the entire thing. People can get mad at me all they want for doing co-writes, but I’m still writing. It’s not like I just sit in there and wait for these people to write these songs for me. This is all me.

The other thing is, my music taste [has] so much variety that I think it’s only better if I sit down with other people that have other strengths, to get to where I want to go – into these different styles of songs. I don’t want to do the same song, different chords, you know what I’m saying? I wanted it to be so unique and to keep it the way that I’ve always done it, which is to have different styles of songs. For that, I feel like you have to have different songwriters come in and give you different pieces.

I also have to ask you about bluegrass. One of the first things that we shared on our site of yours was a Tyler Childers cover that you recorded with Sierra Hull at Red Rocks. Our audience loved it so much. I think part of why your music resonates across diehard country fans to indie fans to bluegrass fans is that you’re not just a performer and a songwriter, but you’re a picker, too. What is your relationship like with bluegrass music? Is it something that’s prominent in your listening and in your influence?

So, I will first and foremost say this: I am not that good of a picker. [Laughs]

That stuff, that is something that I love. That is a different art. That is so beautiful. But my love for it– everyone in Oklahoma started listening to Tyler Childers and that’s when he came around, I want to say in my high school days. That’s when everything took a shift. I was like, “I don’t know what this is…” because we all grew up listening to red dirt [country], which is what I am. But my influence has really changed. In the summer of ‘22, Laurel Cove Music Festival was the first time that I had seen Nicholas Jamerson, Charles Wesley Godwin, Sierra Ferrell, Cole Chaney. That changed everything for me. It changed the entire way that I looked at music, and from that point on I started listening to every single one of those artists. It just led to more.

I love bluegrass and I try to have a couple songs [in that style], but I can’t call myself bluegrass. As much as I love what they’re doing and I try, I have my influences, I’m still red dirt. The way that those artists do what they do, it’s because they are them. I have my influences, but I am still just me. So whatever comes out, it’s just me loving and respecting it. But I can’t fully call myself a bluegrass musician, because I’m not. I’m jealous of it though, I’ll tell you that much. I’m jealous, I wish!

The production style and the different aesthetics that you’re utilizing on the album feel like classic country and old country plus dashes of country & western. There are moments that are really rocking and there are moments that are really subdued. It’s also really modern and crisp. How much of that is coming from you or from the ensemble and how much is coming from your producer, Beau Bedford?

A lot of that was Beau. I learned so much from him. [Before,] I really didn’t ever get the experience of being in a studio with musicians that are just wizards. Beau really took care of me.

It was a challenge, because we recorded in three different places. We were in Nashville, in North Carolina, in LA, and then we finished in Nashville. We were scared that it wasn’t gonna flow together, being in these different studios and then also just having this [group] of songs. Luckily, it all came together and as different as they do sound, they still flow. That was all just luck. We’re all we’re all sitting there going, “Huh? Hope this goes right!” I had my doubts, too, and [Beau] goes, “Wyatt, everything’s gonna be all right, because you are the main character that runs through this entire thing.”

That’s the constant throughout the entire project. I’m just lucky that it worked. When you go from different styles of songs – red dirt, and then you got this beachy [thing], old-time. It’s just crazy how they all go along together. Then it goes into this weird psychedelic rock and “Falling Sideways.” It was a wild adventure, and I’m so grateful for it. I just can’t believe the way that it turned out.

I ask this last question often, especially with people like yourself who are so effortlessly traditional country. There are a lot of folks out there who are excited about you – and artists like Zach Top and Tyler Childers and Zach Bryan – because these listeners sense that there’s this “new movement” that’s going to save country music, that’s going to renew country. That country is going to be what it used to be before “murder on Music Row.”

I wondered what your thoughts and feelings are on that paradigm? Because I sense that you don’t care so much about what is or isn’t traditional or what is or isn’t “inside” country. Does country music need to be saved? Do you see yourself as part of that saviorship? Do you care?

There’s something to be said about it, because yeah– I have my opinions about commercial country. There’s some really good songs and then I also think there’s some songs that say absolutely nothing. I guess as a songwriter, my goal is to keep writing about real shit and keep expressing myself with vulnerability. And to still write good songs.

I have a very important person in my life who’s been a mentor to me; his name’s Shane Lamb. I used to talk about writing these super-poppy melodies. And he goes, “Yeah, it’s because it’s popular music. … Who are some of your favorite artists?” We started going through Tyler Childers, early on in the days of me being in Nashville. [Shane] was like, “Listen to the fucking melody, Wyatt. It’s a pop melody. It’s for popular music. That’s why it works. But his arrangement is country.”

And I was like, “Oh… when you think about it that way, yeah, I guess you’re right.” So, I do try to have poppy melodies as much as I can, but I still try and keep my verses very needy, if that makes sense. I like putting a whole bunch of detail and really trying to focus in on the verses and let the chorus speak for itself.

That’s so perfectly put; yes, country has always been popular music. It’s one of my favorite Tyler Mahan Coe quotes, the creator of Cocaine and Rhinestones, the podcast and the book. He talks regularly about how country music has always been popular music. That’s not to say that fact absolves Music Row and Music City from all the truck and beer songs, but it certainly helps remind us that hand-wringing over “Is country music going to be okay?!” is not something that’s ever going to go away, but it’s also not something we really need to worry about.

And I think for the first time ever with social media, people are able to find new music that’s always been there. They’re just now finding out about it for the first time, because the radio stations aren’t playing it. That’s its own deal. But now they’re able to find all this new music and I feel like country is still going to be country. Like you said, when it comes to beer and truck songs, I think the thing that’s missing is them not explaining what they love about it. They’re just talking about it, not being vulnerable with it.

I think about “Drive” by damn Alan Jackson, dude. That is just talking about driving. That’s really all it is, but the sentiment is there, because it has to do with the father and the son. And then, all of a sudden, there’s the father and the daughter – that is fucking awesome country music that I still absolutely love! I wish that I could do that, like that Zach Top thing. I told him that whenever I met him, I was like, “Dude, I wish I could do it.” I really do. ‘Cause he’s fucking killing it. There’s so many different styles of music and I’d rather just do what I want to do, which is all of them, rather than just settle for one sound.

Photo Credit: Natalie Rhea

A Simple Daily Practice Brought About Liv Greene’s ‘Deep Feeler’

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

For Liv Greene, music is all about showing up.

The Nashville-based singer-songwriter just released her sophomore record, Deep Feeler, in mid-October and she wrote and recorded the LP guided by a simple but powerful ethos: Show up for the craft of songwriting and it will show up for you, too. In Greene’s case, that looked like committing to a daily writing practice and finding external sources of accountability – like writers’ groups and online communities – as well as learning to work through days when access to her writerly brain felt blocked.

“A lot of the songs came out of just showing up for the practice, like, ‘Okay, what is there to play with today?’” she tells BGS, calling from her home in Nashville. “‘What’s coming out of my brain today?’”

Though some days only yielded frustration, Greene soon found herself with an album’s worth of material, the bulk of which draws heavily from a concurrent stretch of curiosity-fueled introspection, during which she considered her life as a queer person as well as the quirks and habits that make her who she is.

Greene recorded Deep Feeler at Nashville’s famed Woodland Studios, the East Nashville outpost that serves as home base for David Rawlings and Gillian Welch. She and GRAMMY Award-winning engineer Matt Andrews co-produced the LP, pulling together an ace band that includes acclaimed singer-songwriter and multi-instrumentalist Sarah Jarosz, whom Greene considers a musical hero. Highlights on the record include “Flowers,” a gentle and optimistic celebration of treating oneself with love and care, and “Wild Geese,” which draws inspiration from the late poet Mary Oliver.

Below, BGS catches up with Greene about her daily writing ritual, her experience producing Deep Feeler, and her decision to take a gamble on her artistic vision.

You just released a new record, Deep Feeler. What can you share about the project’s origins and how you conceived its initial vision?

Liv Greene: Most of the songs came out of a dedication to showing up for the craft, whether or not I had an idea when I sat down. I was almost forcing myself to write, but in a way that felt like cultivating a more consistent writing practice. Given that it was during the pandemic, it makes a lot of sense that many of these songs came out of that time. I had a few things to hold me accountable, too. There was a writers’ group I was part of, where I was writing a song a week for the first half of 2021, and a songwriting workshop where I wrote “Flowers.” I also led some workshops myself and participated in the exercises I’d give my students. After moving to Nashville, I wrote “Deep Feeler” and “Wild Geese,” and then the rest of the album took shape from there.

I love the idea of showing up for the craft. It’s not easy to sit down and write when you don’t have an idea at the ready. How did you begin those sessions? Do you have a ritual that helps you shift into that writer headspace?

When I’m in a writing season – which I’m always trying to get back to, though sometimes it’s just not the time, if I’m busier with other parts of my career – it’s usually marked by time with my instrument, just improvising. I’m most inspired by windows or outdoor spaces. Sitting on a porch or in my room looking out the window, just a lot of improvisation. That’s really the core of my songwriting: spending time seeing, maybe speaking in tongues, seeing what comes out in terms of gibberish, and then noticing what starts to stick. There’s something to that diligent practice of making things up consistently, even if you hate what you make up.

Tell me about choosing “Deep Feeler” as the title track. What does feeling deeply represent for you?

The album concept came out of a self-aware period of recognizing patterns in my life and seeing that I was the common denominator. I was in a lot of situationships. While the heart of this record is about the heartache and missteps of my early 20s, I hope it resonates with people beyond that scope. I’d come out, accepted myself, and allowed myself to feel desire and joy and all of these deep romantic feelings for the first time. This record is a lot of me sitting with myself and embracing the way I’m wired, trying to find a healthier self-awareness around it. I’m working on drawing boundaries with myself, but also being proud of my wiring and how it makes me a good storyteller and a good romantic.

As I was preparing to talk to you, I found a quote from you about making this record that really stuck with me. You said, “Now, rather than an escape from myself, songwriting is communion with myself.” Could you elaborate on that?

When I started writing songs in middle and high school, I was at an all-girls Catholic high school. I went to Catholic school most of my life. Being queer, I didn’t feel like I had much representation in my world, so I felt pretty lonely in high school. I didn’t have much of a musical community in D.C., where I grew up. Guitar was always my escape. I’d come home from school, play for hours, and write. As I got older, I had to form a bit more emotional intelligence and really sit with the person I wanted to be. I realized I couldn’t keep running away from parts of myself and that those parts were actually wonderful and something I should embrace. Songwriting became a different vessel for me to explore myself, rather than viewing it academically, as a hobby, or in a scholarly way.

You got to set up shop at Woodland Studios to record the album. Woodland is such a beloved part of Nashville’s music community, and it sounds like you had an excellent roster of musicians in the studio with you. What did being in that environment open up for you creatively?

The core of the record was made in one day in July at Woodland and it was just myself, bass, and drums – no headphones, live in two adjoining rooms, live onto tape. It was very high-pressure. We did six songs that day and just fired them off, trying to keep the authenticity of a live performance at the heart of the record. The studio days were some of the scariest of my professional life, but in a good way.

There were so many nights beforehand where I’d get the Sunday scaries and think, “Oh my God. Sarah Jarosz, who’s a hero of mine, is going to come to the studio tomorrow, and I’m producing. What if we don’t have time to do everything we need to?” It was an immense amount of pressure to be in the producer’s chair for my own project. But musicians put a lot of money into their records because it’s expensive to record. So I viewed the record as, like, “Okay, this is sort of like grad school.” Friends had asked me to produce their stuff before and I’d said no because I didn’t have the experience. Now, it’s baptism by fire, and I’m my own guinea pig.

You have some shows coming up, including a couple here in Nashville. Have you gotten to play much of this material live yet, or is that still to come?

Some of the core songs on the record have been in my set list for a while, at least around town; friends already know all the words to “Wild Geese” and some other “hits” from the record. But yeah, especially the B-side songs, a lot of those will be pretty new to my live show. I’m excited to hopefully do a lot more touring in the next year and see how the songs are landing out in the world. I haven’t really gotten to do that. My last record was a pandemic record and I never really toured it, so I’m really excited for the record to come out soon and then to get out there, meet people, and reconnect with those who resonate with it.

Are you still engaging in your daily writing practice? Do you have other new material on the horizon?

I’m hoping to go into the studio again soon to do a couple of songs. I’m just taking my time getting to know different producers around Nashville. I think this winter is going to be about doing one song here and one song there. I feel like I’m about halfway toward another record, so I’m getting excited to be in the studio again. It’s my favorite place to be.

Photo Credit: Joseph Ross Smith

Jett Holden’s Dreams Come to Life on ‘The Phoenix’

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

For years, Jett Holden dreamt and dreamt about making a living through music, but everywhere he turned he was met with doubt, subtle prejudice, and closeted racism that left him running on empty and searching for something new.

Following a journey to rock bottom, Holden is back stronger than ever on The Phoenix, a 10-song collection that catalogs his rise from the ashes and spotlights the community that embraced him when it seemed nobody else would. Told through a mix of countrypolitan, rock, punk, metal, and R&B sounds, the record is proof that there are no boundaries to who, where, and what good music can come from – and that we all benefit from everyone having a seat at the table, sharing their stories and perspectives.

“This album reflects who I’ve been throughout my entire life,” Holden explains to Good Country. “It’s been really cool to look back on when and where my different influences come from while bringing these songs to life. For example, ‘Karma’ is definitely Paramore meets Stapleton, while ‘West Virginia Sky’ harkens to my Tracy Chapman and Jim Croce influences.”

Fresh off a move to Nashville, Holden spoke with GC over the phone about the doubt and prejudice he’s faced along his musical journey, his work with the Black Opry, using music to heal past trauma, and more.

There’s a lot going on in your song ‘Scarecrow,’ from exploring your family’s reaction to coming out to masking the crippling weight of other’s doubts of what you’re capable of – along with a slew of Wizard of Oz references to the scarecrow, tin man, and cowardly lion. Mind sharing how all those ideas coalesced into one?

Jett Holden: It’s the first song I finished for the album. I wrote it back when I was 25, and at that point my family and I didn’t really have a personal relationship. It had gotten to the point where I came out 10 years earlier and wasn’t sure where I stood with them. I wasn’t disowned, but I also didn’t have anyone to turn to – they all pretty much told me they didn’t want to hear about it. I didn’t want to keep living in limbo, so a few years later I skipped town and moved to East Tennessee, which is where [Black Opry founder Holly G] found me in 2021.

You also had a brief stint living in California around this time that left you on the brink of quitting music for good. What all transpired out there?

I moved out to Long Beach after dropping out of community college. I was in talks about a development deal and during the “get-to-know-you” phase I let it slip that I was gay and they responded by saying that I wasn’t marketable as a Black, gay man doing the kind of music that I wanted to do. Things fell apart from there, which is why I left California and moved back to Virginia before eventually relocating to Tennessee.

Aside from that moment, were there any other circumstances that contributed to you feeling so defeated about your music prospects?

When I first moved out West, there was a very steep trajectory that isn’t common for most people, but it quickly deteriorated after I mentioned being gay, making for a really high peak and a really low low. When I returned to Virginia things got stagnant and didn’t progress at all, even moving backwards at times. It was a frustrating time of trying to figure myself out that culminated in the move to East Tennessee where I was roommates with a close friend before coming home one day after she committed suicide.

Another of my friends got cancer around the same time and just recently passed too, so those were very traumatic years for me.
By 2020, I just couldn’t do it anymore, so I started going to therapy right before the pandemic hit and the world shut down. Suddenly [music] was just too much to deal with, so I stopped making it. Being online was toxic so I shut down, got a stay-at-home job with AT&T, and accepted that as my future, working my way up in the company.

Then Holly — and the Black Opry — came around?

Exactly. I’d already called it quits when she found me on Instagram through a video I’d posted of my song “Taxidermy.” I only had that and a couple other covers posted, but it was enough for her to take interest and slowly pull me back into the industry. A couple months later she launched the Black Opry as a blog and it’s crazy to see where things have gone since then.

Within a year I’d gotten to tour all over the country, appear on The Kelly Clarkson Show, and I recorded my first single and EP through a grant I received from [Rissi Palmer’s] Color Me Country. Holly has made so many things possible that had been unavailable to me for my entire career until then, fighting for me in ways nobody else had before. She took chances because she wasn’t an industry person, but rather a flight attendant who was just a fan of country music and wanted to feel connected to it and the artists she was listening to, which is something a lot of others were in search of as well.

When I went to the first outlaw house she threw at Americanafest in 2021, I was expecting a bunch of Black country fans to show up, but it was also the queer community, the Latin community, and the women in country music that didn’t feel like they were getting a fair shake of things. Everyone who felt “othered” in country music showed up and it felt like immediate family. Seeing the excitement around that is what drew me back in.

Speaking of your song “Taxidermy,” I remember you being brought to tears while singing it during a Black Opry panel at Americanafest that same year. What’s that song meant to you, both in its message and what it’s meant to your career?

That song relaunched my career essentially, because I wasn’t chasing music when I wrote it. In fact, when I posted it online I only had one verse and the chorus. Despite it not being complete, Holly still sent it off to Rissi Palmer and got me the grant and I finished writing it the day we recorded. It’s a song of frustration that I didn’t expect many people to watch when I posted it, but Holly really connected with it, spread it around, and helped it blow up into something bigger than I ever imagined.

I was just singing about my frustrations with what was going on around our country at the time concerning police brutality, which was a big reason why I quit social media and music altogether in 2020. Instagram was the [only] online account I had when Holly found me. That song allowed me to vent about those things, but it also helped me gain the community I needed to break myself out of the news cycle that we were constantly absorbing, because we had nowhere to go. The song came about out of all that negativity, but had a huge positive impact on me that I never expected.

In addition to the support you’ve received from the Black Opry, you’ve also got a helluva team behind you for this record including the folks at Thirty Tigers, [producer] Will Hoge, and collaborators like John Osborne and Charlie Worsham (“Backwoods Proclamation”), Cassadee Pope (“Karma”), and Emily Scott Robinson (“When I’m Gone”). I imagine that, after everything you’ve been through, having folks like that working alongside you is incredibly validating?

Definitely! Emily was the first person I asked, since she was a very early supporter of the Black Opry. We both connected over “When I’m Gone” and our similar stories [around] suicide, so it was a no-brainer to have her sing with me on it. Holly ended up reaching out to Cassadee after I mentioned wanting someone similar to Hayley Williams featured, and she nailed it. It’s very cool seeing all these people I’ve looked up to legitimately wanting to work with me. I still haven’t met Charlie or John, but it’s wild knowing that they’ve heard my song and wanted to be involved in it.

Regarding “When I’m Gone,” is that a reference to your friend in East Tennessee that you walked in on after committing suicide? If so I’m sorry for your loss, but I love how you used the song to memorialize them and bring attention to the plight of suicide. It’s an awful thing to experience, but putting your feelings from it to song is a great way to bring beauty to an otherwise unimaginable situation.

You’re completely right. When I play songs like “When I’m Gone” or “Scarecrow” live I always have people coming up to talk to me about them afterwards, whether it’s someone who’s come out, dealt with religious trauma, or a person who’s just lost somebody close to them. There’s something very cathartic and heavy all at once that’s led to a lot of crying, but more importantly a lot of growth. It’s been great feeling like I’m not going unheard – which I did for over a decade – and having interest in what I’m doing where there wasn’t any before.

We’ve talked about a lot of the trauma captured in these songs, which brings me to the album’s title, The Phoenix. Is that reference meant to reflect how your life — specifically your musical dreams — have been reborn in recent years?

That was the intention. It was about the resurrection of my career, plus I also referenced the phoenix in “West Virginia Sky,” so it felt appropriate. Then, weirdly enough, just after recording the album I had a friend, also named Holly, give me a phoenix bolo tie for Christmas. It was a very kismet occurrence and a sign that that was the correct title to move forward with on the project. It makes for the perfect project, one where I have creative control and wrote every song (besides co-writing “Backwoods Proclamation”). I put my heart and soul into it, and am really excited for people to hear it.

If you could go back in time to speak with yourself when you were about to call it quits, what would you tell them?

Prioritize the relationships you build, because those are the people that will help you get to where you are supposed to be.

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Photo Credit: Kai Lendzion

Open Mic: Charlie Peacock Pushes Through Chronic Pain on ‘EVERY KIND OF UH-OH’

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

With a 40+ year career spanning virtually every aspect of the music business – from performing and songwriting to production, development and even education – Charlie Peacock has battled myriad creative challenges. A standout in the Contemporary Christian format who was also deeply involved in the Americana folk boom of the 2010s (he was even the driving force behind The Civil Wars’ mainstream emergence), no problem seemed too big to handle. But for his new album EVERY KIND OF UH-OH, Peacock had to overcome an obstacle unlike the rest: a rare, debilitating health condition.

Diagnosed with Dysautonomia and Central Sensitization, Peacock has essentially been experiencing a never-ending headache since 2017 – seven grueling years and counting. Needless to say, it has upended the GRAMMY winner’s life, and while some days are better than others, the chronic pain prevented him from music making all together– until a flash of writing in 2023, that is.

Featuring 10 all-new songs penned in a two-week flurry, EVERY KIND OF UH-OH finds Peacock getting back to work, but with fresh appreciation for life’s messy beauty. Co-produced with his son Sam Ashworth, a peaceful mix of dream-folk and gospel match a tender, feathery tenor, as Peacock explores against-the-odds optimism with spirituality, purpose, and humor. In the end, it feels like a veteran songsmith’s statement of revelation; and a set of life lessons delivered with knowledge, not judgement.

Still fighting symptoms on the morning after a party celebrating the album’s arrival, Peacock spoke with BGS about how his life transformed and how it forever changed the way he makes music. Peacock also plans to release his memoir, Roots & Rhythm: A Life in Music in February.

We’re really interested in the way things like creativity and mindfulness and health intersect, so I’m fascinated by your story. Can you just tell me how you’re feeling today – both in a micro sense and in terms of the bigger picture with everything you’ve been through?

Charlie Peacock: Well, just for the background, I have a neurological disorder called Central Sensitization, which is a pain management disorder between the brain and the central nervous system about how pain is managed. So, my brain got tricked into thinking I am in trouble, and it’s sending me pain signals. Basically in the same way that if I scratched my arm on something, that scratch pain is there to tell me, “Hey, there’s something wrong with your arm. You might want to take a look at it.” Well, the brain functions in that way for all our pain management throughout our entire body.

So mine, this disorder that I have is that everyday for almost eight years, I’ve had an intractable headache. I’ve had an eight-year headache basically, and it goes up and down in terms of intensity. Sometimes it’s “You’ve got to go to the hospital” intensity. And most of the time it’s just sort of like a three or a four [on a scale of one to 10]. And I’ve learned to function through various methodologies and mindfulness and various kinds of treatments that I’ve done.

I imagine on top of the physical side of things, it has impacted your creativity. How did this change the way you look at making music?

Well, it got me back in some ways. It got me out of the music business and back into music making.

Really? How so?

At the point when I got sick, I was just turning 60 years old. So I was a 60-year-old man who’d been in the music business for 42 years, who was in writing rooms with 20-somethings. And even though part of my whole thing as a songwriter and a producer is that I’ve stayed relatively current, you’re still a person of your time and your generation. It’s like, could I make a trap song? Absolutely. But will I make one that is convincing to people who listen to trap? Maybe not. …

I was functioning more as the older, experienced sage that comes in and cleans up people’s songs. And so what the illness did was it put me back in that more childlike place of working on my own music and experiencing just the joy of creating, rather than coming in as the expert who’s going to be the song doctor or the producer who’s going to give that artist that extra 23% that makes them commercially viable or something like that. So that has been a real joy. And then of course, as I’ve said many times, it’s like you take care of the music and it takes care of you. That’s been the case just in terms of imagination and creativity during this illness, where it’s been a part of my medicine for sure.

Here we are eight years after the illness started and you’ve got a new record. What changed to bring this music out?

Well, [before] this illness period I had gone to Lipscomb University and created their commercial music program, and then became the head of the School of Music for a year. And it was during that time that I got sick. I was already kind of moving out of the producer-for-hire model and kind of had this education piece that was on my bucket list. So I had gone and done that and then I was just here working, making a lot of music, doing a lot of writing, working on a family, a screenplay for a family story from the 1800s, just doing a bunch of different creative things. …

[After the illness], I just had a willingness to say, “If my music career is over at this point, then I will have been really grateful.” And this memoir is kind the period on the end of the sentence. Then all of a sudden it was like I woke up one morning like “Is that an idea for a song?” It was brewing. So I started working on it and then a few more. And then I asked my son, “Hey, you want to help me finish this song?” I go out to his house and we hang and work on this song. We’re both super excited about it. And then he finally, after hearing more of the music, he was like, “Dad, you got to promise me you’ll take this seriously. Don’t just tell everybody, ‘Hey, I have a new record out on Friday and buy a couple ads on Facebook and call it a day.’ I think you need to actually do an old school release and get a distributor and have them set the record up.”

I said, “I don’t know if I have the energy for that.” But [Sam] said, “Well, I’ll help you.” And so he did help me. Really, the whole family has been a huge help. Sam came alongside me and he co-produced the record and we co-wrote three songs on it. And literally, it’s a 10-song album. Within 14 days. I had all 10 songs written. And it was just one of those times where it was just time to do that. I didn’t know it was, but it was.

Fortunately, I also had some pretty good windows of health that I could [record]. I had some days when I tried to sing where it’s just like, “Man, it’s just not happening.” But I’d wait a few days and get rested up again and go up to the studio and sing, and it would still be there. I was actually surprised myself, some of the range that I was able to sing at still.

Have the songs taken on a new shape for you or a new dimension, topic-wise and thematically?

Well, my great-grandfather was a fiddler in Louisiana and my grandfather from Oklahoma loved to sing all the Okie songs of the era. And I thought, let me just lean into that a little bit. So I would say this record is a little taste of that, especially the instrumentation is pretty much still the same in terms of rootsy guitars and just simple drums and bass and fiddle and pedal steel. And the only difference between this record is I really leaned into the gospel vocal sound. A lot of my friends that have been dominant in Black gospel music. And so that’s a difference. Narrative-wise, I was really trying to do this kind of literary thing that was a mix of plain-speak American roots, with these literary elements, and then also take a spiritual element, but not make it religious, and try to create a narrative that was uniquely American. I think in its influence, it’s almost like reading some of the classic American novelists.

There’s a wonderful mix of storytelling and deeper spirituality, for sure. Thank you, Charlie. I’ll just leave you with the big picture. What do you hope people take away from this record?

I think for me, even listening to the songs and seeing the reaction from folks, what they said afterwards is, “This is a world that I want to enter into. There’s something about what you’re creating on this record, this musical world, and this invitation to come on in that feels really safe and that I will belong here and I’ll be well loved, cared for, not judged – allowed to just be myself.”

And I think that’s what we want. I mean, I think that’s what makes our heart beat, is that we just want to be known totally. We want to be known like the intricacies of our personalities. We don’t want to be known superficially. And I hope there’s something about this music that sends that signal that, yeah, I do too. Come on in and listen and see if you find some of that here.

Photo Credit: Jeremy Cowart

The Remarkable Rootsiness of the 2024 CMA Awards Nominations

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

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The headline takeaways from this year’s CMA Awards nominations may be the inclusion (and exclusion) of pop superstars, with understandable interest in what that says about today’s country format. But the 2024 field features plenty of roots and bluegrass influence, too. Regular BGS and Good Country readers might even be surprised at the confluence of the modern mainstream and its traditional tributaries.

We want to highlight that dynamic as well. Country has always been a big tent, but is it now becoming more receptive to its roots?

Let’s start with the superstars. These days, many can claim a rootsy kind of rebelliousness, and chief among those is Chris Stapleton. With his long history – in bluegrass, in Southern rock, in classic country songwriting, and with a train load of CMA trophies – Stapleton vies once again for what would be his first Entertainer of the Year award – after a record-setting eight nominations. Yet he still sings with the fiery Appalachian soul he debuted at the front of The SteelDrivers.

Others earning top billing this year include Zach Bryan and Lainey Wilson – and both have a reputation for gritty, creative realism. Some of the hottest new names country has to offer, Bryan has been selling out stadiums with his confessional alt-country and Wilson’s bluesy Louisiana swagger earned her last year’s Entertainer of the Year title. Those are not the only established artists holding true to the cause, though.

Kacey Musgraves continues to show salt-of-the-earth songcraft is not mutually exclusive to shimmering pop decadence. And while Ashley McBryde has perfected the art of making arenas feel like a massive, county-line roadhouse, Cody Johnson proves the appetite for hardcore Texas twang did not die with King George’s (semi) abdication. All have become perennial fixtures in the format’s upper echelons.

Likewise, this year’s nominees offer excitement for the future, awash with fresh talent. Shaboozey turned heads with the Number One ear worm, “A Bar Song (Tipsy),” but dig beyond the single and his catalog marks an elusive missing link between the hard-times inspirations of both hip-hop and country. Artists like Zach Top – who also came up through bluegrass – accept no substitute for twangy telecasters and shuffling, two-step beats. And while The War and Treaty continue their mission to bring soul and gospel back into the heart of country, The Red Clay Strays find a home for their blend of heady roots rock and commanding, fire-and-brimstone vocals.

Even the behind-the-scenes nominees highlight this rootsy resurgence, with the Musician of the Year category dominated by keepers of the instrumental flame. Fiddle phenom Jenee Fleenor goes head to head with steel-guitar legend Paul Franklin and the multi-talented guitarist/Americana artist Charlie Worsham – while the other two, guitarists Tom Bukovac and Rob McNelley, are certainly no slouches when it comes to six-string scholarship.

In fact, the commonalities between this year’s CMA Awards nominees and the artists covered by BGS and GC are so striking, we wonder what you think. Take a look at the full list of nominees below, and let us know.

THE 58TH ANNUAL CMA AWARDS – FINAL NOMINEES (by ballot category order):

ENTERTAINER OF THE YEAR

Luke Combs
Jelly Roll
Chris Stapleton
Morgan Wallen
Lainey Wilson

SINGLE OF THE YEAR
Award goes to Artist(s), Producer(s) and Mix Engineer(s)

“A Bar Song (Tipsy)” – Shaboozey
Producers: Sean Cook, Nevin Sastry
Mix Engineer: Raul Lopez

“Dirt Cheap” – Cody Johnson
Producer: Trent Willmon
Mix Engineer: Jack Clarke

“I Had Some Help” – Post Malone (Feat. Morgan Wallen)
Producers: Louis Bell, Charlie Handsome, Hoskins
Mix Engineer: Ryan Gore

“Watermelon Moonshine” – Lainey Wilson
Producer: Jay Joyce
Mix Engineers: Jason Hall, Jay Joyce

“White Horse” – Chris Stapleton
Producers: Dave Cobb, Chris Stapleton, Morgane Stapleton
Mix Engineer: Vance Powell

ALBUM OF THE YEAR
Award goes to Artist, Producer(s) and Mix Engineer(s)

Deeper Well – Kacey Musgraves
Producers: Ian Fitchuk, Kacey Musgraves, Daniel Tashian
Mix Engineers: Shawn Everett, Konrad Snyder

Fathers & Sons – Luke Combs
Producers: Luke Combs, Chip Matthews, Jonathan Singleton
Mix Engineer: Chip Matthews

Higher – Chris Stapleton
Producers: Dave Cobb, Chris Stapleton, Morgane Stapleton
Mix Engineer: Vance Powell

Leather – Cody Johnson
Producer: Trent Willmon
Mix Engineer: Jack Clarke

Whitsitt Chapel – Jelly Roll
Producers: Andrew Baylis, Brock Berryhill, Zach Crowell, Jesse Frasure, David Garcia, Kevin “Thrasher” Gruft, Austin Nivarel, David Ray Stevens
Mix Engineers: Jeff Braun, Jim Cooley

SONG OF THE YEAR
Award goes to Songwriter(s)

“Burn It Down”
Songwriters: Hillary Lindsey, Parker McCollum, Lori McKenna, Liz Rose

“Dirt Cheap”
Songwriter: Josh Phillips

“I Had Some Help”
Songwriters: Louis Bell, Ashley Gorley, Charlie Handsome, Hoskins, Austin Post, Ernest Keith Smith, Morgan Wallen, Chandler Paul Walters

“The Painter”
Songwriters: Benjy Davis, Kat Higgins, Ryan Larkins

“White Horse”
Songwriters: Chris Stapleton, Dan Wilson

FEMALE VOCALIST OF THE YEAR

Kelsea Ballerini
Ashley McBryde
Megan Moroney
Kacey Musgraves
Lainey Wilson

MALE VOCALIST OF THE YEAR

Luke Combs
Jelly Roll
Cody Johnson
Chris Stapleton
Morgan Wallen

VOCAL GROUP OF THE YEAR

Lady A
Little Big Town
Old Dominion
The Red Clay Strays
Zac Brown Band

VOCAL DUO OF THE YEAR

Brooks & Dunn
Brothers Osborne
Dan + Shay
Maddie & Tae
The War And Treaty

MUSICAL EVENT OF THE YEAR
Award goes to Artists and Producer(s)

“Cowboys Cry Too” – Kelsea Ballerini (with Noah Kahan)
Producers: Kelsea Ballerini, Alysa Vanderheym

“I Had Some Help” – Post Malone (Feat. Morgan Wallen)
Producers: Louis Bell, Charlie Handsome, Hoskins

“I Remember Everything” – Zach Bryan (ft. Kacey Musgraves)
Producer: Zach Bryan

“Man Made A Bar” – Morgan Wallen (feat. Eric Church)
Producer: Joey Moi

“you look like you love me” – Ella Langley (feat. Riley Green)
Producer: Will Bundy

MUSICIAN OF THE YEAR

Tom Bukovac – Guitar
Jenee Fleenor – Fiddle
Paul Franklin – Steel Guitar
Rob McNelley – Guitar
Charlie Worsham – Guitar

MUSIC VIDEO OF THE YEAR
Award goes to Artist(s) and Director(s)

“Dirt Cheap” – Cody Johnson
Director: Dustin Haney

“I Had Some Help” – Post Malone (Feat. Morgan Wallen)
Director: Chris Villa

“I’m Not Pretty” – Megan Moroney
Directors: Jeff Johnson, Megan Moroney

“The Painter” – Cody Johnson
Director: Dustin Haney

“Wildflowers and Wild Horses” – Lainey Wilson
Director: Patrick Tracy

NEW ARTIST OF THE YEAR

Megan Moroney
Shaboozey
Nate Smith
Mitchell Tenpenny
Zach Top
Bailey Zimmerman

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Bluegrass Memoirs: The Earl Scruggs Revue Beginnings

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Nearly 50 years after the Earl Scruggs Revue concert I saw at the University of Maine, an internet search led me to Jaime Michaels of the opening act, Beckett. He still has vivid memories from that night in Orono. I sent him a copy of my report. He wrote back, saying:

I have no idea about the song titles but it was nice that my ’63 Gibson J50 got a mention … I still have it.

He has vivid memories of his time backstage with Scruggs.

… at the very end of Earl’s set as he walked back out for his 3rd or 4th encore he stopped and said to me “If I’d just play the darned thing right, I wouldn’t have to keep going back out …”

A little later as we were all loading out Earl came up to us and said, “Do you guys want to see my new bus?” He took us for the grand tour. I was still pretty young and had never seen a real tour bus before.

He was such a sweet guy with this humble self-effacing humor.

Earl was proud of that bus, I reckon; he’d named an instrumental after it.

When I saw them in 1975, the Earl Scruggs Revue was a polished Nashville rock act that had been together since 1969. Debuting at a folk festival that May, not long after Scruggs split from Lester Flatt, it featured Earl’s sons.

The two oldest, Gary (then 20) and Randy (then 16) were already Nashville recording studio veterans. They’d been in the Columbia studios multiple times (Gary 11 sessions, Randy 15 sessions) since May 1967, helping on the last three albums Lester and Earl made before their split (Changin’ Times, The Story of Bonnie & Clyde, Nashville Airplane).

Also new to Flatt & Scruggs, in the fall of 1967, was Columbia producer Bob Johnston, then 35. Concerned about declining record sales, Columbia had replaced Frank Jones and Don Law, highly regarded Nashville veterans who’d been producing F&S since the fifties, with Johnston, who was producing Bob Dylan.

Dylan had stunned the folk world when he went electric at the Newport Folk Festival in 1965. He first recorded in Nashville in 1966, completing Blonde On Blonde there using mainly Nashville studio musicians. In the next two years he returned, making John Wesley Harding and Nashville Skyline.

Flatt & Scruggs’ final albums reflected their move to Johnston, a leading producer at forefront of Columbia’s move from acoustic folk into electric folk rock.

Later, when asked about what led to the split with Earl, Flatt spoke of his difficulty in singing the band’s new songs. “Johnston,” He said, “…also cut Bob Dylan and we would record what he would come up with, regardless of whether I liked it or not. I can’t sing Bob Dylan stuff. I mean, Columbia has got Bob Dylan, why did they want me?”

Of the final three F&S albums, both Changin’ Times and Nashville Airplane had folk-rock repertoires. At the very first session for Changin’ Times, four folk-rock favorites were cut, three Dylan hits, one by Ian Tyson: “Don’t Think Twice,” “Four Strong Winds,” “Blowin’ In the Wind,” and “It Ain’t Me Babe.” Here, Earl’s boys Gary (singing) and Randy (lead guitar) were together for the first time in the studio with Flatt & Scruggs and Johnston.

Imagine the dismay of Lester (who, soon after splitting with Earl, would record “I Can’t Tell The Boys from the Girls“) at this session! It seemed as if the young longhairs with their strange new music were taking over.

Released in January 1968, the back cover of Changin’ Times was filled with the image of a rock poster. Unsigned notes beside it read:

With their smash appearance at the Avalon Ballroom (a West Coast temple of rock and light-shows) when they turned on the whole of San Francisco, there are no new worlds left for Flatt and Scruggs to conquer. Flatt and Scruggs are for everyone.

One of the album’s 11 tracks was a remake of Earl’s “Foggy Mountain Breakdown,” which had just become a hit through the soundtrack of Bonnie and Clyde. Five tracks were by Dylan; the album closed with Woody Guthrie’s “This Land is Your Land.”

Gary and Randy Scruggs personified the Lovin’ Spoonful’s “Nashville Cats,” but also in the studio for that album were other, older, Nashville cats – Charlie Daniels, Grady Martin, Bob Moore, Charlie McCoy and other A-team studio musicians. Randy and Gary would come to know these men well as they built life-long careers in the Nashville studios. These careers were forged during their years (1969-82) with the Earl Scruggs Revue.

Fortunately, the Revue’s earliest days were chronicled in a television documentary. David Hoffman’s ninety-minute NET TV special, Earl Scruggs: The Bluegrass Legend – Family and Friends, was recorded in 1969-70. It has been issued on DVD several times since then and can be seen on YouTube.

It’s fascinating to watch Hoffman’s documentation of Scruggs as he narrates his past, voices his present, and sets out his future directions. Along the way, Hoffman captures Earl’s music-making with a wide variety of performers and audiences. By the end of those 90 minutes, Scruggs’ cultural and political perspectives are manifest; likewise the breadth of his musical tastes.

Hoffman filmed in New York, North Carolina, Nashville, Washington, D.C., and California. The documentary opens with a five-minute jam session: Earl, Gary, and Randy are in upstate New York visiting Bob Dylan at the home of illustrator and sculptor Tom Allen, who had done many Flatt & Scruggs album covers. After Bob sings “East Virginia Blues,” Earl asks him if he’d like to hear their version of “Nashville Skyline Rag,” the instrumental title track from Dylan’s most recent album. I don’t know when this jam took place, but in mid-August of 1969, when Earl was in the studio with Lester to record Final Fling: One Last Time (Just For Kicks), an album they’d agreed to make after their split, the first track they recorded was “Nashville Skyline Rag.”

The tune became a fixture in the Revue concert repertoire, used, for example, as the show opener at Orono in 1975 and in 1977 when they played PBS’s Austin City Limits. Earl had recorded it again in 1970 for his first solo album, Nashville’s Rock.

After the jam with Dylan, the film’s next twenty minutes take the viewer with Earl and the boys to his North Carolina home with visits to the Morris Brothers (the first group he’d worked with), Doc Watson, and Scruggs family and friends in the Flint Hill community. It closes with a shot in which Earl speaks of how he’d taken the banjo to different types of music: “Now it’s easy to blend with today’s music. It works very well. I’m really happy. I had dreams of this.”

The next five minutes come from a jam session with the Byrds at a ranch outside Nashville. It begins with them doing “Nothing To It” (the title Earl used for “I Don’t Love Nobody,” when he recorded this tune with Doc Watson) followed by “You Ain’t Goin’ Nowhere,” a Dylan tune that was on the Byrds’ Sweetheart of the Rodeo, the 1968 album that is often thought of as a foundational statement of country rock.

It’s followed by four minutes with electronic music pioneer and composer Gil Trythall, who plays along on Moog synthesizer with Earl and Randy doing “Foggy Mountain Breakdown.”

Then comes an interview with Charlie Daniels, at the time an associate of Bob Johnston, soon to become one of country rock’s leading figures. The focus shifts as he, Earl, and the Revue attend the second Moratorium to End the War in Vietnam, held in Washington, D.C. on November 15, 1969 – generally considered to be the largest demonstration ever in Washington. After performing “Foggy Mountain Breakdown” there, Earl speaks of his opposition to the war.

Back in Nashville, Daniels is co-producing (with Neil Wilburn) All The Way Home, the first Scruggs Brothers album, for the New England folk and classical label Vanguard. The film follows them into a Nashville studio.

Earl is also working on an album, his first post F&S solo project, Nashville’s Rock. After listening to a demo of one track at the Scruggs home, we see an old friend of Earl’s, Dr. Nat Winston, give testimony to his character, and then Earl demonstrates how he creates his music, explaining that he’s self-taught. Next, we meet Earl’s wife Louise, who’s worked as his manager for fifteen years. She points out that Earl was immersed in the music from age five and that their son Randy has had the same experience.

A shift of focus to Randy follows, as we see him picking “Black Mountain Rag” (a guitar performance reflecting the Scruggs affinity for Doc Watson), and then go with him to class at Madison High and have a chat with his principal, who talks about Randy’s “skipping school.”

After hearing from Louise about how she met Earl at the Grand Ole Opry, we drive on a spring afternoon (in 1970) with the Scruggs family from home to the Ryman Auditorium in downtown Nashville. Inside, Earl, with Randy, joins Bill Monroe and the Blue Grass Boys in a backstage dressing room for a jam and then we witness the Revue’s debut on the Opry stage.

In the center is Earl on banjo, flanked by Randy on guitar and Gary on bass and vocals. Also in the band is Jody Maphis, a contemporary of the Scruggs brothers and son of country stars Joe and Rose Maphis, on guitar. He would subsequently move to drums and remain in the Revue for about a decade. On piano and tambourine is Leah Jane Berinati. Except for Earl, this was a group of kids, dressed like young flower power types. They perform two very conservative old traditional songs, “Nine Pound Hammer” and “Reuben,” to an enthusiastically appreciative audience.

The last twenty-five minutes of the documentary follow the Scruggs family as they travel, early in 1970, to California’s Bay Area for a visit and a jam in Joan Baez’s home. Joan, with her young newborn son Gabriel nearby, chats with Earl about their 1959 meeting at the first Newport Folk Festival. She sings two songs (both are Dylan compositions) and then, while photos are shown of her husband – Gabriel’s father David Harris, whose Vietnam protests had led to federal imprisonment for draft refusal – she sings “If I Was A Carpenter” with Gary. A heady mix of politics and music.

The film closes with Earl back in North Carolina talking again about his musical aspirations:

Keep up with the times and make as much progress with the banjo along with other instruments as long as it blends in as possible.

As the credits roll, we hear Earl playing “Folsom Prison Blues” using his tuners.

This documentary, aired at the height of the Vietnam war, included a forthright statement of opposition from a leading figure in Nashville, where there was considerable support for the war. The documentary was also a carefully crafted showcase of the Revue’s folk/country rock repertoire, musical style, and cultural connections.

The albums that Earl and his two oldest sons were working on while Hoffman was making the documentary released before its broadcast and both contain songs and tunes that appear in the film. A couple of examples: “Train Number Forty-Five” (F&S’s radio theme in the early days), which is heard in Earl and Randy’s backstage jam with Bill Monroe, is also heard on Earl’s album Nashville’s Rock. Similarly, Randy’s version of “Black Mountain Rag,” an acoustic guitar solo in the documentary, is heard on the Scruggs Brothers’ album, All The Way Home, in an extended version with not only acoustic and electric guitar breaks but also a banjo break in his father’s style.

In the next Bluegrass Memoir we’ll see how, by 1971 and 1972 when this documentary was broadcast, the Earl Scruggs Revue was appearing on a series of albums that realized Earl’s aspirations and helped launch his touring.

(Editor’s Note: Read our prior Bluegrass Memoir on the Earl Scruggs Revue here.)

Neil V. Rosenberg is an author, scholar, historian, banjo player, Bluegrass Music Hall of Fame inductee, and co-chair of the IBMA Foundation’s Arnold Shultz Fund.

Photo of Rosenberg by Terri Thomson Rosenberg. 

Edited by Justin Hiltner.

You Gotta Hear This: New Music From Julian Taylor, the Grascals, and More

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

We’ve got a fine collection of new tracks, videos, and performances for you this week in our premiere round-up, You Gotta Hear This!

Don’t miss some stellar bluegrass from genre staples – and labelmates – the Grascals, who are celebrating their 20-year anniversary, and Chris Jones & the Night Drivers. The former celebrate their heroes, the Osborne Brothers, with a cover of “Georgia Pineywoods” while the latter get topical while poking fun at doomsday rhetoric on “What If You’re Wrong.”

Jazzy roots duo Winterlark bring us a charming number with a somewhat unlikely subject– emojis. Well, and love gone not-so-right, too. Felled Oak, AKA Brian Carroll, also debuts “Taplines,” a track written while he worked the maple syrup season in Vermont. Singer-songwriter Amy Speace considers the construction of “The American Dream” with a brand new, summery music video and Spooky Mansion performs the title track from his upcoming album, What About You?, live outdoors on the ranch.

Don’t miss Julian Taylor’s debut of a brand new music video for “Pathways,” a song released earlier this week about family, connection, and inter-generational perspective that features the one and only Allison Russell.

To cap it all off, we’ve got an exclusive Yamaha Session from flatpicker Trey Hensley that posted to BGS earlier this week, too. It’s all right here and, we’ve said it before and we’ll say it again, but You Gotta Hear This!

Felled Oak, “Taplines”

Artist: Felled Oak
Hometown: Corinth, Vermont
Song: “Taplines”
Album: Smoke on the Hillside
Release Date: September 30, 2024

In Their Words: “All of the tunes on this project were birthed from time tapping trees in the sugarbush this past January here in Vermont. In the dead silence of winter, alone in a cluster of skeletal maples hiking uphill, I found myself humming and whistling melodies to keep myself (and the winter birds) company. Some of those melodies stuck and I’d pull out my phone, make a quick voice recording then when I got home transcribe them on the mandolin and octave mandolin.

“‘Taplines’ was a melody that fell beneath my own fingers effortlessly and when I brought it to good friend and musical partner, Mark Burds, a smile crept across his face as we played it together for the first time. All of these tunes were recorded in luthier workshops and small, personal spaces around central Vermont and featuring my closest musical friends. It’s music to be shared and played together, to connect. Intimate, organic, and honest.” – Brian Carroll, Felled Oak

“‘Taplines’ was really fun to put clawhammer on, because it’s one of those simple yet beautiful melodies that falls so nicely on banjo and it’s so satisfying to groove on.” – Mark Burds, banjo

Track Credits:
Brian Carroll – Octave mandolin, mandolin, upright bass, acoustic guitar
Mark Burds – Banjo

The Grascals, “Georgia Pineywoods”

Artist: The Grascals
Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee
Song: “Georgia Pineywoods”
Album: 20
Release Date: August 23, 2024
Label: Mountain Home Music Company

In Their Words: “I don’t believe The Grascals would be in existence without The Osborne Brothers. Their heavy impact and influence on us is one of the main reasons we all love bluegrass music so much. ‘Georgia Pineywoods’ is a classic Boudleaux and Felice Bryant song originally recorded by The Osborne Brothers and it just felt very fitting for us to include it on this album celebrating our 20th band anniversary. We will always salute The Osborne Brothers’ music and their continued inspiration to The Grascals!” – Jamie Johnson

Track Credits:
Kristin Scott Benson – Banjo
Danny Roberts – Mandolin
Jamie Johnson – Guitar, lead vocals
Terry Smith – Bass, baritone vocals
John Bryan – Guitar, tenor vocals
Jamie Harper – Fiddle, vocals

Chris Jones & the Night Drivers, “What If You’re Wrong”

Artist: Chris Jones & The Night Drivers
Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee
Song: “What If You’re Wrong”
Release Date: August 23, 2024
Label: Mountain Home Music Company

In Their Words: “Jon Weisberger and I co-wrote the song as a conversation with a conspiracy theorist. It’s meant to be a light-hearted look at the subject – I’m pretty sure it’s the first bluegrass song to mention chem trails! – but it does ask a serious question: When something earth-shaking is predicted, whether it’s the end of the world, a change of government, or just the results of a major ballgame, what do you do when it doesn’t happen? Do you question your sources or double down? We have so much of this in the era of social media and different realities we live with, it seemed pretty timely, and we had fun with it.” – Chris Jones

Amy Speace, “The American Dream”

Artist: Amy Speace
Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee
Song: “The American Dream”
Album: The American Dream
Release Date: October 18, 2024
Label: Wind Bone Records

In Their Words: “I’ve worked with Neilson Hubbard and Joshua Britt (their production company is Neighborhoods Apart) on a bunch of videos, so I trusted them to get the vibe of the song. Also, Neilson produced the record and Josh played on it, so I knew they got it. We all wanted to capture that feeling of the freedom of the end of summer. I grew up mostly in a small town with rural countryside all around it and we’d take long drives through the cornfields as the sun set. We shot this on a country drive and an abandoned cabin (also used in the album art) near Franklin, Tennessee. The appearance of the tractor and the train are coincidences.” – Amy Speace

Video Credit: Neighborhoods Apart, Neilson Hubbard and Joshua Britt

Spooky Mansion, “What About You?”

Artist: Spooky Mansion
Hometown: San Francisco, California / Bay Area
Song: “What About You?”
Album: What About You?
Release Date: August 22, 2024 (song); October 31, 2024 (album)

In Their Words: “I wrote ‘What About You?’ with the intention of painting a picture of my life through different stories. The places I’ve been and the people I come from have all made me who I am. In those early days of a relationship, when you’re getting to know someone, there are certain memories that you retell to explain who you are.

“The verses are meant to be quiet, subdued, and more introspective as I try to describe myself. The chorus is bigger and joyful as I turn the attention to the person I’m talking to. In all my experiences, ‘I didn’t even know that I was looking for you.’ It culminates in a repeated anthem at the end as a reminder that despite what you’ve already lived through, there is more in life that will keep changing you and continuously creating you into the person you are. In this case, it was a beautiful woman I’d recently met who is now my wife and love of my life.” – Grayson Converse, Spooky Mansion

Video Credit: Directed by Jacob Butler.

Julian Taylor, “Pathways” (Featuring Allison Russell)

Artist: Julian Taylor
Hometown: Toronto, Ontario, Canada
Song: “Pathways”
Album: Pathways
Release Date: August 21, 2024 (song); September 27, 2024 (album)
Label: Howling Turtle Inc.

In Their Words: “I remember sitting in my living room when the melody and chord patterns just came to me. Often, when I sit down to write music, it’s the first thing that I start playing that sticks, because it’s raw and honest. I worked the progression in several different ways. First on the acoustic guitar and then on the piano. I still have probably upwards of seven or eight takes of it somewhere on my voice notes. Some were quite punk sounding, while others were quite folk sounding. Ultimately, the sound of the melody and progression in 6/8 time seemed to have the most impact on me.

“This song became a lyrical collaboration between two friends of mine that are also neighbors. I was invited to hang out and write with my pals Robert Priest and Rosanne Baker Thornley, who has a studio down the road from me. When I arrived, I showed them what I had been working on and they loved it. We ultimately wanted to write a hopeful song that spoke to our next of kin, and since we all have children who are the most important people in the world to us, we followed that inspiration. I performed with my friend Allison Russell at the Juno Awards this year and asked her if should be interested in collaborating on the song seeing as she is a mother as well and I am so honored that she said yes and brought yet another magical spark to our creation.” – Julian Taylor

Track Credits:
Julian Taylor – Vocal, guitar
Allison Russell – Duet vocal
Colin Linden – Electric Dobro, mandotar, bass, harmony vocal
Gary Craig – Drums, percussion
Jim Hoke – Saxophones
Janice Powers – B3 organ

Winterlark, “Ending With Heart Heart Heart”

Artist: Winterlark
Hometown: Santa Cruz, California
Song: “Ending With Heart Heart Heart”
Album: Sing To Me About Tomorrow (EP)
Release Date: August 23, 2024 (song); September 20, 2024 (EP)
Label: Squink Records

In Their Words: “It seemed that the world was ready for a song about the insidiousness of emojis, so I tried to write a modern-day song about a poorly communicated break-up, like the one in Elvis Presley’s rock-n-roll classic ‘Return to Sender.’ One of the keys to the song is the pairing of the sad lyrics with the happy, infectious beat driven by Kristin and drummer Chris Haskett. They make everything swing.” – Sweeney Schragg

“When Sweeney shared the core idea of this song, I do believe I laughed – uncomfortably. Aren’t we all guilty of throwing emojis at people instead of real words? Sweeney left six spots open for bass fills, a better gift than a box of black licorice (my favorite).” – Kristin Olson

Track Credits:
Sweeney Schragg – Guitar, vocals
Kristin Olson – Upright bass, vocals
Chris Haskett – Drums

Yamaha Sessions: Trey Hensley, “Hold What You Got”

On a sunny Sunday afternoon just outside of Nashville, Tennessee earlier this summer, BGS linked up with award-winning guitarist, songwriter, and jaw-dropping flatpicker Trey Hensley to kick off a new series of Yamaha Sessions. Hensley, a GRAMMY nominee and the reigning IBMA Guitar Player of the year, pulled his custom Yamaha FG9 R out of its road case to shred through a cover of a classic Jimmy Martin number, “Hold What You Got.”

Hensley is a picture perfect modern demonstration of how bluegrass trailblazers, like Martin, blurred the lines between country, old-time, bluegrass, and beyond. His voice reminds of honeyed country singers like Randy Travis, while his blisteringly quick picking and remarkable articulation are built on Tony Rice and Clarence White building blocks – but simultaneously, those techniques are as forward-looking and contemporary as his peers, Billy Strings, Jake Workman, and others. Hensley pulls limitless tone and warmness from his Yamaha FG9 R, even while approaching the song with near-aggression, ripping through acrobatic triplet licks and leaning into ugly delicious chromaticism in every solo.

More here.

Photo Credit: Julian Taylor by Robert Georgeff; the Grascals by Laci Mack.

Out Now: Wild Ponies

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Wild Ponies is a country-folk duo composed of Doug and Telisha Williams. As partners in music and life, they have developed a cohesive and refined sound. Their album, Dreamers, is out August 23, 2024. The album is an exploration of life, love, and loss, covering joy and grief, queerness and polyamory, and their journey pursuing fertility treatments. It’s a beautiful and touching collection of songs.

Before crafting Dreamers, the duo were asked by a fan where their dreams were. They reflected on the idea of where, not what, their dreams were and their response was, “Our dreams are everywhere, buzzing around like energetic bees… At times, our dreams are hard to wrangle – a wild pony…”

This idea of dreams set the concept for the new album. We are excited to dive into Dreamers and Doug and Telisha’s experiences as touring musicians in a queer, polyamorous family.

What does the album Dreamers mean to you personally? What excites you the most about sharing this release?

Telisha Williams: This record is very personal. We talk about becoming a polyamorous triad, being queer foster parents in the state of Tennessee, struggling with fertility issues, working on being more mindful. It’s basically a peak into our home, hearts, and heads. I’m excited about the way it sounds. Brandy ZDAN did a beautiful job producing this record. The band is amazing, and we couldn’t be more proud.

Doug Williams: Dreamers is the story of who we are. It’s not all easy and it’s not all pretty, but it’s all true. I love this record. Maybe that’s not something I should say about our own work but it’s true – I’m really proud of it.

Your song “Heartbeat” touches on your experience with fetal embryo transfer and even includes your child’s in-utero heartbeat. Is there anything you’d like to share about your journey with fertility treatments?

TW: Doug actually wrote that one after we thought that we had lost our pregnancy. We had a pretty traumatic “episode” when I was at about 5 weeks and we were sure that she was gone. The next morning, we went in for an ultrasound and there was her sweet little heartbeat on the screen. Strong and healthy. My process to becoming a mother was challenging and worth it. Our first embryo was a gift from a dear friend and we were so excited about the possibility of raising our genetic siblings together. Unfortunately, that one didn’t take and we didn’t know how to move forward. Our implications counselor connected us with another woman wanting to do an open embryo adoption. We met over zoom and now, we’re family. She has 2 boys that are the genetic siblings of our daughter. They live nearby and we all get to spend time together. It’s been an incredibly generous journey.

DW: This one was tough to write. We were sure we had lost another embryo. Sure of it. It was pretty difficult. So, we scheduled an emergency ultrasound, but we weren’t feeling good. The joy and tears when we saw that heartbeat on the screen is something that I just can’t describe. I tried to describe it in the song. Just pure joy and gratitude.

How do you balance a career in the music industry and touring with your roles as parents? How does polyamory play a role in this for you?

TW: We’re still figuring that part out. There are some advantages of being a three-parent household. Our partner Laura also travels for work as a photographer and we’re able to help each other as the parents that are holding down the homefront from time to time. We also enjoy traveling all together as a family of 5, but it’s hard to find room for the bass. [Laughs]

DW: I don’t know that there is really a good balance. Accepting that makes it easier, maybe? When you know it’s just going to be a little fucked from time to time, it’s just not as much of a surprise. But we’ve got to prioritize what’s best for the kiddos. And, I do think it’s good for them to see the possibility of living life on your own terms. That’s what we want for them, so we try to model it.

Is there anything you’d like to share with our audience about queerness, polyamory, and love, and how these experiences can vary for different people?

TW: We didn’t necessarily seek out polyamory. Doug and I are both bi/pansexual and have had an ethically non-monogamous relationship for a long time. When we met Laura and started spending time together as friends, we started having “more than friends” feelings for each other. We realized that it didn’t divide or diminish our experience as a couple. If anything, we felt stronger and more connected with each other and Laura. That realization that love was not a finite resource changed everything for us. We know that this relationship model is not for everyone. It requires a great deal of communication and intentionality, but we couldn’t be happier or more proud with this dream that we’re creating.

DW: Yeah, it takes a lot of communicating. A lot of talking. Check-ins. Podcasts. Books. Like Telisha said, we kept a lot of our identity fairly quiet for most of our career. It feels really good to be able to completely live our lives out in the open now. It can be a little scary in the state of Tennessee at times, but at this point it feels like the right thing to do is stay and fight to make it better here. Hopefully we’ll be able to continue to do that and make is safer not only for us, but for the rest of the queer community as well.

For anyone reading this who might not be out of the closet, were there any specific people, musicians, or resources that helped you find yourself as a queer individual?

TW: I can’t name anyone specifically, but I will say that when folks from the LGBTQ+ community show up at our shows or events we’re hosting, it means the world. Feeling seen and supported by this community has transformed me as a human and helped me to be more open and available to support others in and out of the community.

DW: That is a good question. Honestly, just our community. For us, or for me, it just took a lot of talking and a lot of checking in with folks we know. Friends who were already out and very public.

Who are your favorite LGBTQ+ artists and bands?

TW: I mean, we have to acknowledge what Brandi Carlile has done for our community, right?! She’s really elevated and supported the LGBTQ+ community in so many ways. From there, I’d say my friends, Heather Mae and Crys Matthews. I’m inspired by the music of Adeem the Artist. The community is strong and talented, y’all.

DW: Oh yeah, all of the above – I was so blown away by Adeem The Artist! Such amazing songs. And Crys and Heather both have killer new projects. I also love Ana Egge, Anne McCue, Amelia White, Aaron Lee Tasjan… just all of our friends, I guess.

What does it mean to you to be an LGBTQ+ musician?

TW: It means that I can sing about all of it. I don’t have to hide in the stories and the pronouns. I can share the beauty of the love I am so lucky to have in my life. I can share it out loud, and I dress in way more colors than I used to. Taste the Rainbow, people!

DW: [Laughs] I love T’s answer. Yeah, it’s new for us to be so public about our identities. We were mostly closeted for a long time. Definitely publicly [closeted]. It feels so good to live our authentic life in front of people now. There’s so much joy in it. So much love. It’s a powerful and beautiful thing that we weren’t sure we’d ever feel comfortable sharing so openly and now I wish we’d done that a long time ago. It took us a while and it was a slow coming out even when we started the process.

What’s your ideal vision for your future?

TW: We want to keep making art and connecting with people. That’s been our drive all along. That connection and building community. We plan to tour more intentionally in the coming years, because home has a bit more of a pull with the kiddos and family, these days. We also plan to travel with them, introduce them to the amazing community of music fans, and show them that families are made, not just born.

DW: Yeah, the ideal vision would be a life where our family and our career work together. We’re definitely finding ways to do that. It’s difficult, but I don’t think it’s impossible.

What is your greatest fear?

TW: I guess, since the pandemic, I’ve been a bit afraid of losing myself as an artist. When we couldn’t get out and “do what we do,” we weren’t exactly sure who we were anymore. It turns out that we’re still as connected to those fans and friends as we’ve always been, it just looks a little different now.

DW: Woof. You mean other than a second Donald Trump presidency? I don’t know – I think again, honestly, it has to do with identity. I love my new role as “Daddy.” I just want to do a good job and take care of these kids. I also really want them to see that it’s possible to live an artistic life. I guess my greatest fear is failing them in some way.

What would a “perfect day” look like for you?

TW: Oooo! I’d get to sleep until the big number is on the 7, then I’d have a fun morning with the kiddos, take them to their amazing daycare, come back for a walk/workout, morning pages and some time to write or play music. Then, the afternoon, I’d intentionally filter through some emails, pick the kiddos up, play, play, play, throw in a dance party and a jam walk, and sing them to sleep. Then, I’d have a little connected time with my partners and hit the hay. Throw in a coffee, walk, or cocktail date with a friend a few times a week, and that sounds pretty great to me!

DW: A perfect day… High of 82 and sunny. Like T said, sleeping a little late would be such a luxury. Then a little morning time with the kiddos before diving into work. Do a little writing, play some guitar? Then around lunch time take a nice twisty motorcycle ride to a great taco truck about 45 minutes away. Come home, get a little more work done, hang with the family and have a great dinner together. After the kids go to bed, maybe read a little while or listen to some vinyl and enjoy a drink or two. And if we’re really talking about a perfect day, there’s a little more… but we’ll stop there.

Why do you create music? What’s more satisfying to you, the process or the outcome?

TW: I think the outcome is more satisfying to me, but I also love the process and I believe to my core that the process is more important than the product. I know that music has healing powers. I have experienced that first hand, so that’s why I create music. To heal and experience joy, share or release sorrow, express disappointment or hope. Music and emotions are directly related, in my mind, so in order for me to be healthy and happy and present, I need to be creating.

DW: We talk about this all the time! Yeah, we’re huge believers in the process being more important than the product. But, still, it’s such a great feeling to have a new little song and watch it go out into the world and connect with people! I think that’s why most artists create – the desire to connect, to say something. The good that the process is doing in our lives and in our heads is something we usually discover later. Sometimes that even happens with songs no one else will ever hear.

What are your release and touring plans for the next year?

TW: Dreamers will be released on August 23. We’re touring very intentionally for the remainder of the year with shows in the Southeast and Midwest, mainly. We’ll continue to tour in support of the record in 2025, balancing our time at home with our family and out on the road. We’re excited to see where this new record takes us!

DW: Yeah, intentional touring is the main thing, I think. We won’t play as many shows, so if you see us coming to your town, get tickets! We’re just going to be a little more precious with our family time. But, still creating art, still connecting, still holding community events. We’re so excited to get this record out. I’m really proud of it.

Photo Credit: Laura Schneider

Country’s Cool Again: Lainey Wilson’s ‘Whirlwind’ Will Blow You Away

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

(Editor’s Note: Be one of the first to read our Good Country email newsletter, including exclusive features, interviews, and articles by signing up on Substack today.)

Few artists have changed country music like Lainey Wilson.

The bell bottom-wearing, slow-talking singer-songwriter from small-town Louisiana has taken the genre by storm since dropping her breakout third studio album, Sayin’ What I’m Thinkin’, in 2021, and she’s reshaped the country music industry along the way. With Wilson’s highly anticipated fifth studio album, Whirlwind, due August 23, she’s bound to shake things up once again.

If you’ve engaged with just about any form of media in recent years, chances are you’re already familiar with Wilson, who also starred on the fifth season of the wildly popular Paramount Network show Yellowstone. She’s racked up a room’s worth of trophies, including a Grammy, six ACM Awards and seven CMA Awards, including the coveted Entertainer of the Year award in 2023, which made her the first woman to win the honor since Taylor Swift’s win in 2009.

And somehow, in a genre that infamously allows mostly men to dominate charts and radio air time, Wilson has found mainstream country success commensurate with her critical acclaim. She’s notched four number ones on country radio when many women can’t even get their music played. She’s lent assists to big names like HARDY (2022’s “Wait in the Truck”) and Jelly Roll (2023’s “Save Me”), and for a while seemed to be country’s favorite feature – since 2021, she’s also collaborated with Dolly Parton, Lauren Alaina, Ernest, and Cole Swindell.

So, what is it about Wilson that resonates with so many people?

Her breakout single, 2020’s “Things A Man Oughta Know,” is a great place to start. Wilson’s voice is undeniable – like Parton or Loretta Lynn, Wilson has an inimitable sound and style – and a ballad like “Things A Man Oughta Know” gives her ample room to shine. Her voice is nimble and elastic, rich and dynamic. She knows when to stretch a note for emotional effect, like when she sings, “How to keep it hidden when a heart gets broke,” bending the final syllable to reinforce its ache. Lyrically, the track epitomizes the grittier side of Wilson’s persona, as she shows herself to be as adept at love as she is “chang[ing] a tire on the side of a road.”

That tune first appeared on Wilson’s 2020 EP, Redneck Hollywood, and would be reprised on Sayin’ What I’m Thinkin’. It would prove to be no fluke, too, as the LP released to near-universal acclaim. While much of commercial country music was steeped in pop and hip-hop influences, Wilson’s music was traditional but forward-thinking, sounding like AM radio classics, but from a fresh perspective.

It seemed as though Sayin’ What I’m Thinkin’ made Wilson an overnight success, but like most artists who come to Nashville seeking a big break, she had paid serious dues. After graduating high school, Wilson moved to Nashville from Louisiana in 2011, living in a camper van while she found her footing in town.

She’d honed her musical chops as a kid, first discovering a love for music as a young child. As she grew older, Wilson’s dream of pursuing a career in music grew, too, and by the time she was a teenager she had regular gigs as a Miley Cyrus impersonator, showing up at weekend birthday parties to perform for kids.

That would be good practice for building a career in Nashville, as grinding it out at local writers’ rounds, bars, showcases, and open mic nights is, for most artists, a Music City rite of passage. Nashville’s “10-year town” reputation, which posits that an artist must keep at it for a decade to break through, proved true for Wilson, who had spotty success between 2011 and 2021 before finally clearing the hurdle.

Image: Lainey Wilson. Quote: "It's hard to imagine a future in which Lainey Wilson isn't the stuff of country music legend. She's got the chops, the drive, and no shortage of charisma, and it's easy to picture her as a Parton-like figure several decades from now..." – Brittney McKenna

Wilson would follow Sayin’ What I’m Thinkin’ just a year later, eschewing a more traditional two to three years between records in favor of maintaining her momentum. Bell Bottom Country did just that and then some, catapulting Wilson from up-and-coming country star to household name.

The album, with its retro, Stevie Nicks-coded cover photo, also further developed the Lainey Wilson brand, which is more hippie than hillbilly. (Or rather, it’s both – the second track is called “Hillbilly Hippie,” after all.) Her bell bottoms quickly became part of her iconography, like Dolly Parton’s colorful makeup or Brad Paisley’s traditional cowboy hat. The imagery matches the mood of the music, as even Wilson’s more somber songs still have a sense of looseness, of freedom.

Perhaps a product of her decade-plus in the game, that ease is evident on Bell Bottom Country hit “Watermelon Moonshine,” a spiritual descendent of Deana Carter’s “Strawberry Wine” that is sure to be a country classic. Steeped in nostalgia and illustrated with vivid imagery (“kudzu vines,” “old farm ruts,” “a blanket ‘neath the sunset”), the song is a tender ode to young love, balancing youthful abandon with the melancholy of hindsight. It’s also a showcase for Wilson’s melodies, which are sticky but not cloying, and just poppy enough to catch the ear without distracting from the story.

Bell Bottom Country also birthed “Heart Like a Truck,” a massive hit for Wilson thanks, partially, to its use in a Dodge Ram commercial. The song is, blessedly, proof that a “truck song” can still be creative, as Wilson likens her aching heart to a truck that’s “been drug through the mud.” It’s also one of Wilson’s most powerful vocal performances, letting her play with dynamics before letting go and wailing toward the end of the song.

Wilson uses Bell Bottom Country to show off her broader musical ambitions, too. “Grease” is syncopated and funky, reminiscent of more recent work from The Cadillac Three or Brothers Osborne. “This One’s Gonna Cost Me” flirts with arena rock, made epic with production from Jay Joyce, famous for his work with Eric Church. And Wilson surprises with a vibrant cover of “What’s Up (What’s Going On),” the iconic 4 Non Blondes hit.

Such sonic detours hint at what might come with Whirlwind, whose title no doubt references the wild last few years of Wilson’s life. Lead single “Hang Tight Honey” is tight and catchy but sonically complex, with girl-group vocals and a rockabilly beat accompanying Wilson’s soulful, swaggering delivery. “4x4xU” recalls the mid-tempo drama of the best Lee Ann Womack songs, though with a funkier groove. And on “Country’s Cool Again,” Wilson reminds that her country roots run deep, with a deliciously twangy chorus that more than earns the song’s Garth Brooks and Brooks & Dunn references.

Despite these country bona fides, Wilson has still faced accusations of inauthenticity, particularly around her thick Louisiana accent. In a January interview with Glamour, she says, “I think sometimes, especially when people were first getting introduced to me, they heard my accent and immediately thought, ‘There’s no way this girl could be that country.’ The truth is, you can say anything you want to about me, but when you start talking about my accent, I’m ready to fight somebody because then I start feeling you’re talking about my family.”

Debates about authenticity in country music are a dime a dozen, though they tend to be directed at women artists more often than their male counterparts. You don’t hear skeptics of, say, Morgan Wallen’s accent or Tennessee roots, or of Jelly Roll’s history with incarceration. But a quick search of “Lainey Wilson fake” turns up video after video dissecting her accent, most of which barely – if at all – engage with her actual music.

For her part, Wilson seems largely unfazed by doubters and detractors. In that same Glamour piece, she later shares, “When you grow up somewhere like I did with the kind of people that I did, you can’t help but to be country. You can’t escape it no matter if you move eight hours away like I did. Country music was the soundtrack of our lives. We lived it out.”

While Wilson’s musical talents will always be her biggest draw, her larger-than-life personality is a close second. She’s a famously electric live performer, vamping across the stage and bantering with fans with such ease it seems second nature. That she does this without missing a note is what elevates her artistry – that CMA Award isn’t called “Entertainer” of the Year for no reason.

It’s hard to imagine a future in which Lainey Wilson isn’t the stuff of country music legend. She’s got the chops, the drive, and no shortage of charisma, and it’s easy to picture her as a Parton-like figure several decades from now, ushering in and supporting a new generation of country artists whose reverence for and innovation of the genre will help keep it alive.

Until then, at least country’s cool again.

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Photo Credit: Eric Ryan Anderson