Capturing the Outlaws: Country Music Hall of Fame Salutes the 1970s

Waylon Jennings and Willie Nelson are familiar to every country fan – and more than a few would consider them the original Outlaws. In a brand new exhibit, Outlaws & Armadillos: Country’s Roaring ’70s, the Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum in Nashville strives to explain how that name stuck. More importantly, it traces the connection between Nashville and Austin to show how these cities shaped country music in the 1970s, considered one of the genre’s most incredible periods of creativity and individuality.

The emergence of Willie Nelson as an iconic Texas musician is central to the exhibit. His blue sneakers and other parts of his casual wardrobe are emblematic of how he stood apart from country entertainers in that era.

Waylon Jennings and his wife, Jessi Colter (shown above), appeared on the first-ever platinum country album, Wanted! The Outlaws (1976). Guitars, a Grammy Award, and posters from Jennings’ performances in Nashville and Austin are on display.

A poster of the film Heartworn Highways is displayed next to a poncho embroidered with “… and Lefty,” which belonged to Townes Van Zandt. Items from Guy Clark, coach Darrell Royal, Alvin Crow, and Uncle Walt’s Band are also featured.

The comprehensive exhibit explains the contributions of Jerry Jeff Walker, Asleep at the Wheel, Michael Murphey, Doug Sahm and Freda & the Firedogs, through rarely-seen memorabilia provided by the artists.

Joe Ely poses next to the uniform he wore while working for the circus. Ely became a force in Texas music as a member of The Flatlanders and through a number of acclaimed solo projects. He also performed on opening night.

Texas natives Tanya Tucker and Billy Joe Shaver catch up at the opening night party. Jennings’ 1973 album, Honky Tonk Heroes, is composed almost entirely of Shaver’s songs. Tucker broke through in 1972 with “Delta Dawn.”


Text by Craig Shelburne

ANNOUNCING: 2018 Americana Music Awards Nominations

The Americana Music Association announced the nominees for its 17th annual Honors & Awards show this afternoon at an intimate members-only ceremony held at the Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum. The live-streamed event featured performances by its hosts The Milk Carton Kids as well as Daniel Donato, Brittany Haas, Jerry Pentecost, Molly Tuttle and more special guests. The winners of each category will be announced during the Americana Honors & Awards show on September 12, 2018 at the historic Ryman Auditorium in Nashville, TN.

Americana Music Awards Nominees

Album of the Year:
All American Made, Margo Price, Produced by Jeremy Ivey, Alex Munoz, Margo Price and Matt Ross-Spang
By The Way, I Forgive You, Brandi Carlile, Produced by Dave Cobb and Shooter Jennings
The Nashville Sound, Jason Isbell & The 400 Unit, Produced by Dave Cobb
Rifles & Rosary Beads, Mary Gauthier, Produced by Neilson Hubbard

Artist of the Year:
Brandi Carlile
Jason Isbell
Margo 
Price
John Prine

Duo/Group of the Year:
I’m With Her
Jason Isbell & the 400 Unit
Lukas Nelson & Promise of the Real
Nathaniel Rateliff & the Night Sweats

Emerging Artist of the Year:
Courtney Marie Andrews
Tyler Childers
Anderson East
Lilly Hiatt

Song of the Year:

A Little Pain,” Margo Price, Written by Margo Price
“All The Trouble,” Lee Ann Womack, Written by Waylon Payne, Lee Ann Womack and Adam Wright
“If We Were Vampires,” Jason Isbell & the 400 Unit, Written by Jason Isbell
“The Joke,” Brandi Carlile, Written by Brandi Carlile, Dave Cobb, Phil Hanseroth and Tim Hanseroth

Instrumentalist of the Year:
Daniel Donato
Brittany Haas
Jerry Pentecost
Molly Tuttle

Donovan Woods, ‘Good Lover’

Nashville is a songwriter’s town. We know this well. And, sometimes, the people behind some of the most treasured, or most successful, tunes can go years — or even forever — without their own voice or face being known to the world. Often, this is by choice; but other times, it’s because their subtleties can get swallowed by the celebrity around them, hiding the jewels within their own signature style. Lately, though, there’s been a string of breakouts in the artist/songwriter world — from Natalie Hemby and excellent solo debut to, most recently, Donovan Woods, one of the creative forces behind Tim McGraw, Charlie Worsham, and Charles Kelley cuts. Woods — who actually lives in Canada — has been releasing solo LPs for years, but his newest, Both Ways, is a stunning, textural triumph of lush folk songs with gorgeous, evocative lyricism laced throughout.

“Good Lover,” the album’s opener, begins with solemn words to a soft voice and delicate acoustic plucks: It’s about regrets and mistakes and the wishes we have for ourselves to be better or different than we are, while simultaneously accepting our fate. Through vivid imagery, Woods describes that packing up and moving out that comes with the dissolution of a relationship, with full boxes but empty, aching hearts. “But it’s over now,” Woods sings, looking back on the past, “I had a good run but I lucked it out. The neighbors clocked it, then we’ve been cleaning out that tiny house where we could settle for each other.” Woods delivers “Good Lover” like he’s singing into a confessional, with the window open for us all to hear — and remind us that, thankfully, his point of view isn’t just confined to the album credits of others.

Caleb Caudle’s Casual Country Combos

Having grown up between the mountains and the sea in Winston-Salem, North Carolina, Caleb Caudle would have had a difficult time not developing a deep love and appreciation for the great outdoors. The singer/songwriter’s love of nature is evident in both his sound and his style. Caleb’s style is relaxed, rugged, and, on occasion, a little refined. At any given moment, he is appropriately dressed to ride off on a horse or, with the quick change of a jacket, ready for dinner at an upscale restaurant.

The rugged style breakdown:

  • Textiles, like denim or chambray
  • Work-style leather boots that have acquired a beautiful patina over the years (Pro Tip: look for oil tanned leather, and be sure to condition once a year.)
  • Classic wide-brimmed hat — nothing too cowboy
  • A substantial jacket
  • Worn-in denim

For the most part, Caleb sticks to his well-fitted standards, while keeping it fresh with jackets and accessories. Living a good portion of the year out of a suitcase, he tends to favor clothing with consistency, durability, and adaptability. Nine times out of 10, you can count on seeing him wearing broken-in denim jeans, Red Wing Iron Rangers, a blue button-up (most likely denim), a custom Havstad, some assortment of silver jewelry, and a jacket you’ll most likely want to steal. Caleb’s latest obsession is the one-of-a-kind handmade statement jackets by Manuel Couture. This golden mustard jacket with black embroidery fits him like a glove, even though it was taken right off of the rack (which is very unusual).


Manuel has been creating beautiful pieces here in Nashville, Tennessee, for celebrities and musicians since the 1970s. A Manuel jacket is the perfect piece to instantly elevate an outfit with little to no effort.

By the way: You don’t have to be a musician or celebrity to wear a Manuel piece.

Here are a few styling tips from maker himself:

  • Keep the jacket unbuttoned to loosen up the look. Keep it casual.
  • Although the jackets are expensive, don’t let that stop you from wearing them to everyday events. Wear your jacket anywhere and everywhere! Don’t be afraid to make a statement.


Manuel’s jackets can be paired with a nice tailored shirt for a polished look or with a V-neck shirt to keep it casual.

I love the look of Manuel’s glitzy jackets combined with Caleb’s rugged standards. The combination is a 100 percent Casual Rhinestone Cowboy.

A special thanks to Caitlin Arabis, Manuel, and Marathon Village for working with us.

Baylen’s Brit Pick: Dean Owens

Artist: Dean Owens
Hometown: Leith, Edinburgh Scotland
Latest Album: Southern Wind

Sounds Like: A swampy Townes Van Zandt by way of Scotland, with a bit of jam band thrown in every now and again.

Why You Should Listen: Long heralded as one of Scotland’s best troubadours, the talent of Dean Owens is too big to be confined to one country, as glorious and wonderful as that country may be. His previous album, Into the Sea, was a deeply personal set of songs with Celtic influences right up front. The new album, Southern Wind, while no less personal, has more of a marshy Delta, Americana feel. At first, I thought this album was the perfect rainy day album. You know the type — one that you pop on when the weather is terrible and the last thing you want to do is go outside and you just want to be soothed into lying on the sofa all day. But then I was listening to Southern Wind walking through the park on a bright sunny London day, and you know what? It was the perfect sunny day album, too. That’s no small feat — an album that not so much forces its mood on you, but has some sort of magic in it that actually matches your mood.

A celebration of the musical connection between the UK and Nashville, this is really a Transatlantic affair with producer, players, songwriters, and singers from both sides of the pond working on this project. Will Kimbrough, Neilson Hubbard, Kira Small, Danny Wilson, and previous Brit Pick Worry Dolls, among others, all bring their respective skills to the mix … and what a lovely mix it is. Featuring songs about Elvis, Muhammad Ali, a mother, the street where Dean grew up, and a sister gone too soon, with blues, gospel, country slow waltz, and a bit of reggae rhythm, the album is both eclectic and completely harmonious. Just when you think you’ve figured it all out, the next song takes you somewhere new but, once you’re there, it makes perfect sense after all. Southern Wind begins with a track called “The Last Song,” so you should know you’re in for the unexpected. Enjoy the ride.


As a radio and TV host, Baylen Leonard has presented country and Americana shows, specials, and commentary for BBC Radio 2, Chris Country Radio, BBC Radio London, BBC Radio 2 Country, BBC Radio 4, BBC Scotland, Monocle 24, and British Airways, as well as promoting artists through his work with the Americana Music Association UK, the Nashville Meets London Festival, and the Long Road (the UK’s newest outdoor country, Americana, and roots festival). Follow him on Twitter: @HeyBaylen

Nora Jane Struthers’ Home-Style Fashion

“I was excited that you wanted to shoot at my house because I feel it’s the best representation of my style.” — Nora Jane Struthers

In a small town just outside the city limits of Nashville, Tennessee, there lies a market, bar, hardware shop, and the ranch-style home of Nora Jane Struthers and her husband, Joe Overton. A few days before Christmas, on a cold, overcast day, she greeted me at the front door of her home with a bright smile, a warm hug, and a hot cup of mint tea. She wore a vintage, Norwegian-style wool sweater, denim pants, and a pair of fur-lined leather house shoes.

As she prepared the tea, I prepped my camera and began to admire the details of the living and dining rooms: wood floors, white walls, vaulted ceilings, eclectic but minimal decor. Other than a few classic Christmas decorations, the space was free of clutter and knick knacks (something that is far from my reality), with the exception of one toy dinosaur on the liquor cabinet.

As I looked around, I could see the similarities between her wardrobe and living space — simple, minimal, practical, with bursts of interesting vintage treasures. We toured the rest of the house, and I had to scrape my jaw off the floor when she showed me just how minimal her closet truly is. The width of the closet was no more than three feet wide and, when she opened the door, there was space to spare. Sifting through my closet at home, that’s easily twice the size of hers, I constantly find myself with “nothing to wear.” How did she manage to narrow down her wardrobe, or keep it bare, yet still fresh and exciting? What was she considering while out shopping?


Here are a few things Nora Jane is looks for in clothing:

• Natural fibers: She goes for things that are breathable, sustainable, chemical-free, and biodegradable fabrics made of cotton, linen, silk, wool, cashmere, or hemp.

• Hand-Me-Downs: Nora Jane’s favorite pieces have always been big-sister, best-friend, or boyfriend/husband hand-me-downs. Lately, her number one has been her husband’s jean jacket that was given to him by his father.

• Versatility: This is key to keeping the number of closet items down to the bare minimum. Denim on denim is a reliable staple because a simple shoe swap, coat change, or a little lipstick can change it up day-to-day.

• Uniforms: She has specific outfits for a variety of different things — pjs for writing, denim-on-denim while on the road, camo pants in the tour van, etc.

• Boss worthy: If it doesn’t make you feel like a boss, then you don’t need it.

Nora Jane pulled together a few of her favorite looks around the house and gave me a brief tour of her little town. If you haven’t already, be sure to check out Nora Jane’s latest video for “Each Season.”

Nashville School of Traditional Country Music Plays It Forward

The act of passing down traditional music through generations is as inherent to the craft as the music itself is to its region of origin. Amidst the flurry of YouTube tutorials, tuning apps, and streaming services available at the fingertips of today’s technologically advanced society, a crop of non-profits are working to ensure that traditional music continues to be shared from person to person. The Junior Appalachian Musicians program — nicknamed JAM — is one such effort. The after-school program offered in locations across North Carolina, South Carolina, Tennessee, and Virginia offers music lessons to children, focusing on Appalachian tunes and instruments like the banjo or fiddle. Singer/songwriter Meredith Watson was a fiddle instructor in the JAM program in Black Mountain, North Carolina, for three years.

“I saw firsthand how valuable group learning can be when it comes to music, as opposed to the sort of traditional model of sheet music learning or ‘learn this to tune’ or ‘learn this piece of music on whatever instrument you’re playing and go practice for 25 minutes by yourself everyday,’” Watson says. “[That’s] a very isolated experience of learning music, but I’ve seen both from the JAM program and then also my own personal life in old-time music, music is just so much more than that. It’s so much more than practicing by yourself; it’s community.”

An accomplished musician — both solo and with her band, Locust Honey — Watson moved to Nashville nearly three years ago. Despite the lore of Music City, Watson was surprised to find that there were no organized instructional programs or gathering places for musicians.

“It’s the most welcoming community I have probably ever found, musically, so you know, everybody hangs out together and has dinner parties and plays music together, and it’s all very supportive. So it occurred to me, at some point, that there was the Old Town School of Folk Music in Chicago and there’s the St.Louis Folk School and there’s Jalopy [Theatre and School of Music] in Brooklyn … that makes [the music] accessible to the rest of the town, and we didn’t really have that here,” she explains. “It seems like there’s this moment happening in Nashville right now — all these people have moved to town that are world-class, absolutely top-of-the-game players of traditional country music, and there’s nowhere that’s really teaching it. There are obviously private lessons galore, but there’s nowhere that’s teaching music as a community-building art.”

Watson started brainstorming with friends about what an organization or program that filled this gap in Nashville might look like. She used her experience in the JAM program as a jumping-off point and harkened back to her childhood for more inspiration.

“I grew up going to a community theater in Cape Cod in Massachusetts, when I was a kid, and I remember the feeling of having a place outside of my own house that felt like home,” she explains. “It was a really creative place where all you did was problem solve creatively all day. It was just so many different creative minds coming together.”

Watson’s vision for bringing such a place to Nashville has been realized with the Nashville School of Traditional Country Music. Still in its seed stage, the school has about a dozen instructors and is offering a spate of winter classes for children, including fiddle, ukulele, and guitar instruction.

“Because Nashville is growing at the rate that it’s growing, there are a lot of buildings going up and there’s a lot of concrete and just like money, money, money happening, and I just wanted to make sure that everybody knew the reason that this town has the name that it has,” Watson says. “It’s because all of this music from the American countryside came through here. You know, ‘country’ is a weird word because people have very different ideas of what that means, but it’s Music City. All of this vernacular music happened out of human need in rural America and then it came through here and people got to hear it because there was a wider access from here, but it seems like that’s being forgotten. And, having lived in places where that is still celebrated, I see how important it is and I just want to make sure that this particular city doesn’t forget kind of where it came from.”

While the Nashville School is beginning with children’s programming, Watson aims to eventually pivot to gatherings that adults and professional musicians in Nashville can attend, too. The person-to-person connection is what drew Watson to traditional music in the first place. “I went to the Tisch School of the Arts at NYU and then, after college, I was living in New York playing gigs just by myself, playing a lot of old blues, pre-war blues stuff, and some of my own stuff, and I just sort of got really lonely,” Watson says.

She was working at an Irish pub and bar for supplemental income when an Irish jam session on Monday nights caught her attention.

“It had been going on for 15 years and, every Monday night, I would have these guys come in and just sit in a circle and play traditional Irish music,” she recalls. “And I was like, ‘This is what I’m missing. This is what I’m longing for: connecting with people.’”

Watson dove headfirst into the aspect of music as community.

“I [didn’t] want to just get up on a stage; that’s not what music is about,” she says. “So I fell in love with this idea of the music of a people and, through that session, I ended up finding out about old-time music and I started going to festivals, and it was really a cure for my loneliness because I realized that there are all these gatherings that happen all throughout the year of people who just get together, cook together, play music, dance. I felt like music was integral to life, as opposed to being something that you had to try to do in your spare time or make happen somehow.”

Watson hopes to cultivate this feeling for others with the Nashville School of Traditional Country Music, whose mission lies in passing on and preserving the original sounds of American country music. Under that umbrella, she says, is generating a wider support for artists and their music.

“Because art is not valued as a necessity in America, we all struggle really hard just to even put [our music] out and have it be heard or seen,” explains Watson. “I want to make sure that all of our teachers get paid an actual living wage to teach. I don’t think music is extracurricular; I think it’s necessary for the human soul, and I want to make sure that the people who have spent thousands of hours learning how to play it, and then are kind enough to pass it along, are also taken care of.”


Photo credit: judy dean on Foter.com / CC BY

Lee Ann Womack: Keeping it Real

Lee Ann Womack had to get out of Nashville to make what she calls a real country music record. Specifically, she had to get about 800 miles away. For her eighth — and maybe her best — album, The Lonely, the Lonesome & the Gone, Womack trekked down to Houston, Texas, and set up camp at the historic SugarHill Studio, which has hosted famed sessions by some of her musical heroes: Lightnin’ Hopkins, the Sir Douglas Quintet, George Jones, and many others. Nashville has plenty of similarly legendary rooms, of course, but Womack needed to get away from the grinding gears of the country music machine — what she derides as “McRecords.”

“It’s like a factory,” she says. “What was great about being down there in Texas is that you’re in a studio where people go to work everyday and you have all kinds of music being recorded there. Nobody’s going in thinking, ‘We’ve got to lay down a three-minute uptempo love song for radio.’ They’re not thinking about how we’re going to make the most money out of three minutes of music. All they’re thinking about is going in and making great music.”

Womack is one of the few artists who can drop a phrase like “real country music” into conversation without sounding defensive, dismissive, or derisive — in other words, without buying into received notions of authenticity. Her definition of “real” is deeply personal and based on the country music that was popular 40 or 50 or even 60 years ago, but Lonely proves that even old tunes and old sounds can speak to this modern moment. Rather than restrictive, the term becomes freeing: These new songs range from the stately countrypolitan of “Hollywood” to the gritty blues of “All the Trouble,” from the beautiful reimagining of the 1959 Lefty Frizzell “Long Black Veil” to the remarkable insights of the title track, a country song about country songs.

Recording in Houston actually brought her closer to some of her Nashville heroes. Womack grew up in a small town called Jacksonville, Texas, about three hours due north of Houston. Her father was a country radio DJ, a profession that provided his daughter with a deep grounding in the music’s history. As a child, she loved Bob Wills & His Texas Playboys. “I thought he was funny. The music was upbeat and bouncy, which any kid would like, and then you’ve got this guy talking all over the tracks: [Imitating Wills’ falsetto] ‘Shoot low, sheriff! I think he’s riding a Shetland!’” She might have been laughing at the bandleader’s antics, but she was subconsciously absorbing the complex horns and fiddles. “It becomes part of the fabric of your musical DNA.”

As she grew up, Womack raided her parents’ record collection, which was full of albums by Ray Price, George Jones, Porter Waggoner, Dolly Parton, and, of course, Willie Nelson. “Twin fiddles and steel guitar and story songs — these were the things that I thought were country music, and I thought my idea of country music was everybody’s idea of country music.” Ironically, being in Nashville only distanced Womack from her first loves. “Growing up in East Texas, I was full of dreams and hope. Then I moved to Nashville and, after 20 years, you get kind of jaded. Things change,” she says. “Every time I go back home, I have a spark of that feeling I had growing up. I wanted that again. I haven’t made a record in that frame of mind in so long. I just wanted to be surrounded again by the things that shaped me growing up.”

All of those old sounds inform the new record, which was produced by her husband, Frank Liddell, and finds Womack moving even further away from the country mainstream. Disregarding the need for radio airplay and signing with ATO Records [home to the Drive-By Truckers and Hurray for the Riff Raff] suggests she is cementing her place within the Americana market, adopting a rootsier sound for a very different kind of audience. As she recounts her career, however, Womack insists she has always gravitated toward this kind of music, even when she was just starting out. “When I walked into the offices of Decca Records to audition, I walked in with just an upright bass, myself, and an acoustic guitar. We played as a trio, right there in the office,” she recounts. “And that’s exactly who I was. My first record had a song on it called ‘Never Again, Again,’ and that was stone-cold country. Even in 1997, I felt like I needed to remind people of what country music really was.”

And yet, within the country sphere and without, she is best known for 2000’s smash single, “I Hope You Dance,” which achieved the crossover success so many Nashville artists covet. Recorded with Sons of the Desert, it’s a slick and sentimental pop-country anthem whose uplifting lyrics could double as a graduation speech or a Hallmark card: “I hope you still feel small, when you stand beside the ocean. Whenever one door closes, I hope one more opens.”

To her credit, Womack doesn’t ignore or disregard her biggest hit, no matter that it is something of an outlier in her catalog. She still performs it at almost every concert, still sings it like it’s a brand-new song, still invests those lyrics with sincerity and immense generosity, even as she strips it down to its core. “Those lyrics still stand up with just an acoustic guitar,” she says. “I might have cut a couple of lightweight pieces along the way, but I tried to cut the best songs I could find. And now when I go out and play with fewer musicians in a more stripped-down setting, those songs hold up because they were great songs to begin with. I guess a lot of shit got put on them to make them more commercial.”

That is perhaps one of Womack’s most undervalued talents: She is a sensitive and intuitive song collector with a discerning ear for complex sentiments, sturdy melodies, and relatable characters. On her last album, 2014’s The Way I’m Livin’, she covered the Texas singer/songwriter Hayes Carll and managed to outdo Neil Young on her tender version of “Out on a Weekend.” Lonely includes a handful of old-school covers, but the standouts are those penned by young scribes like Brent Cobb, Adam Wright, and Jay Knowles.

During the sessions in Houston, there were discussions about the title track, which includes the line, “[Hank Williams] never wrote about watching a Camry pulling out of a crowded apartment parking lot.” According to Wright, who co-wrote the tune, “Some people were like, ‘Camry isn’t very cool. Is there another car we can use?’ But Lee Ann said, ‘No, it’s a Camry. Those are the lyrics and that’s what it is.’ And that’s the point, after all. It’s not a Jaguar. It’s not a cool car. It’s not romantic.” As she sings it, that is one of the most arresting lines in a song this year — country or otherwise — and she delivers it with a gentle despair and even a little resignation, as though measuring the romance of an old country song and the reality of everyday life. “The care she takes with these songs left a big impression on me,” says Wright.

For Womack, country music is real when it’s about real people — not just the musicians who write and sing the songs, but the listeners who play those tunes over and over again, who hear their own dreams and hopes echoed back to them. “I have this theme about myself and about others,” says Womack. “I don’t know how else to describe it, except to say that I am drawn to losers. I hate to call anybody a loser, but I throw myself in that pile.”

By “losers,” she means people facing down challenges bigger than they are, and that accounts for just about everybody on earth. “That’s why I’m drawn to songs like ‘All the Trouble’ and ‘I Hope You Dance.’ They’re about challenges, about hard moments in life,” she muses. “There was a time when country music spoke more to those types of people. Now it’s speaking to a different group of people. That’s fine, but I want to speak to the challenges of life. The lonely, the lonesome, and the gone? Those are my people.”


Lede illustration by Cat Ferraz.

SHIFT LIST: Levon Wallace

For Levon Wallace, whipping up a signature dish in the kitchen isn’t unlike songwriting.

“Some of the best cooking happens when it’s freeform, when it’s fluid, when it comes from the heart,” Wallace says. “Sure, we’re relying on things like muscle memory and technique, which any musician worth their weight would, as well. I mean, you practice and practice and practice, but some of those best songs — or some of those best dishes — really are just coming from a sense of place inside. You can’t train that. That has to be, I think, from the heart.”

Wallace exercises that same care in his current post as executive chef of Gray & Dudley, located in the 21c Museum Hotel in downtown Nashville. Housed in the historic Gray and Dudley building that dates back to 1899, the restaurant draws not only its name, but also its aesthetic from the founding tenants by focusing on communal plates and pioneering dishes.

“The Dudley family is super prominent here in Nashville. Ms. Dudley was an avid, strong activist for women’s rights in the South back in the day, and the Gray and Dudley Manufacturing Company, which was the original name of this building, was the hub for commerce. If you needed anything — whether it was a cast-iron stove, shaving kit, hunting apparel, or baby carriage — you went to Gray and Dudley. It was like the Sears, Roebuck of its time,” Wallace explains. “We came into the space and we were developing menus and developing service concepts and food concepts for this restaurant, and that name really just resonated with what’s going on with our food.”

Born in Los Angeles, Wallace dove head-first into the world of culinary arts when he moved to San Francisco at the age of 18. “I just fully immersed myself in the food culture and chef culture and restaurant culture,” he explains. “Produce, artisans, makers, cheesers, wine — you can’t walk down the street without being hit in the face with something amazing. It’s a culinary revelation. My life experience in the Bay Area was this fast and furious romance with every cuisine under the sun.”

Wallace attended school full-time and spent in-between hours working at a catering company and volunteering at any restaurant that would have him for the day. He eventually made his way down the California coast, landing as the chef de cuisine at the Ojai Valley Inn and Spa, a luxury resort near Santa Barbara. The resort’s idyllic grounds boast orchards and herb gardens — a lush haven of fresh ingredients.

“I made it a part of daily preparation to use the walk to work to pick bay leaves from the bay trees for service,” says Wallace. “[I decided] whatever it is that I do, I want to make sure that the care in the attention to ingredients is there.” It’s a guiding principle that Wallace has applied throughout his career, which has taken him to Nashville by way of Martha’s Vineyard and Louisville.

“I’ve always kind of had this wanderlust, but something about this place, particularly Nashville or middle Tennessee, really truly does feel like home,” Wallace says. “I’ve been very fortunate to travel and see a lot of different places and this beautiful region we call the South, it’s absolutely consistent, you know, the welcoming, warm personalities, the hospitality. But I do feel like it’s just a little bit sweeter here in Nashville.”

In order to create heartfelt dishes that tap into Nashville’s profound sense of community, Wallace relied on his philosophies about ingredient sourcing.

“We talked about the importance of ingredients, and I’m a firm believer in supporting our local makers, our local ranchers and farmers, but I also think that it’s important to include regional accountability and regional support,” he says. “In this region, if we have seafood at all, it should come from the Gulf. We should be eating the right stuff. Chefs, especially nowadays, we have a platform which we didn’t have before where people actually give a shit about what we have to say, and so we have an opportunity to use that platform, whether it’s in menus or whether it’s in advocacy.”

Crafting a menu, Wallace says, is a creative process. “The approach to the food at Gray & Dudley is really about [being] soulful,” he explains. “I think a lot of us go through that phase where you’re trying to discover yourself and find your style and find your voice and cooking is like playing a lot of chords just to make one song … That’s kind of what we’re trying to hit — just the right chords.”

A Lot of Life: A Conversation with Becca Mancari

Becca Mancari may live in Nashville, but the sound she’s developed in her music is anything but “Nashville.” It makes a good deal of sense, though, when you consider Mancari’s earlier life, which included stints in India, the Blue Ridge Mountains, south Florida, and Staten Island.

On her debut album Good Woman, Mancari weaves her myriad life experiences into a lush tapestry of gold-toned tales which, sonically, hew far more closely to dreamy California folk-pop than the tradition-heavy throwback country currently making the rounds in much of Music City’s music scene. In doing so, Mancari has transcended her status as a local favorite to that of a nationally acclaimed artist, songs like “Golden” and “Arizona Fire” earning her nods from major outlets like NPR and Rolling Stone.

Mancari is also one third of one of the most buzzed-about new bands of any genre — Bermuda Triangle. Alongside singer/songwriter Jesse Lafser and Alabama Shakes’ Brittany Howard, Mancari and Bermuda Triangle recently released a single (the Laurel Canyon-esque ballad “Rosey”) and have plans to tour intermittently throughout the rest of the year. 

You have a new solo album. Can you tell me how the album first started to take shape for you?

The album, it’s my debut record. I’ve only had one song out, “Summertime Mama,” and now we have two versions, which I think confused people a little bit. But it’s so great, the idea of the power of one song. I had that one song do its work and time-and-a-half. Everything from Ann Powers featuring us last year with NPR for AmericanaFest — which is huge, she’s been a huge blessing in my life.

I decided I was going to take my time. I met a lot of producers and I just couldn’t get the right vibe. I noticed that this guy — his name is Kyle Ryan — he would be coming to our shows all the time. I know he’s a busy guy. He’s Kacey Musgraves’ band leader, and he’s also deeply involved in her recordings now. But he would just keep showing up and, by the last time, he had a notebook in his hand and was taking notes at my show. I went up to him afternoon and I go, “Hey man, you wanna get coffee?” So we did.

I actually had never really heard anything that he had done production-wise, but everything that he talked to me about, I was on the same page, from inspirations like Tame Impala to the way he is more of a Beatles fan and less of a — and this is not against the Nashville sound or the country way, but I just don’t feel like I fit in that world, and I didn’t want to make a throwback record. I would say he was like another member of our band. Tracking was all done by my live band. The only “studio” musician was a trumpet player that I had come in.

Did y’all do the actual recording in Nashville?

Yeah, we did it over at his studio, which is right behind his house, right close to Mas Tacos. Of course, there’s like a million studios everywhere. He makes gold, man. He’s incredible.

You mentioned how the Nashville sound of the current isn’t necessarily what you’re after or what you do, but it does seem like you’ve still been embraced by that fan base — which, granted, is pretty broad these days. What do you think it is about your music that still appeals to that contingent?

That’s a good question. I don’t know. I feel like we are so much of a family in Nashville, so I feel like that’s kind of playing into it. I have friends like JP Harris or Christina Murray or Margo [Price] — real country musicians — and they listen to other music, too. It’s not the only music they listen to, and I think that what I’ve noticed is that they’ve been excited to come to the shows because they’re like, “Hey, you’re doing something different on that steel. I don’t know what you’re doing, but I really like it.” I think it’s just refreshing, maybe.

I really don’t have any background in country music. I didn’t really listen to it growing up. I don’t know how to play it, even. I do think, though, that I love songwriters, and I’d say my greatest influences, when I was young and still now, are Bob Dylan, Neil Young, even John Prine. To me, these people are able to translate even in the indie world because they’re just great songs. You can kind of do whatever you want, when you have great songs. I let my guys take what I write and put the sounds to it, put the vibe on it, and that’s how we function as a band.

Since you’re an artist crafting such song- and lyric-driven music, do you have a tried-and-true writing process that you follow?

I do the traditional sit down and pull out my guitar and be by myself thing. “Golden” came to me in the night, which is fairly rare. I think one of the things I also like to do is I listen to one record over and over and over again. I was listening to Gillian Welch at the time when I wrote that song, and I just wouldn’t stop listening to it, and there was this one song — I think it’s called “Orphan Girl” and it’s not the same thing at all — but there’s this one note that I keep turning in my brain.

That’s how I kind of take melodies sometimes, where I’m like … it’s not their melody, but it’s a hearing thing. I write a lot as a hearer. I don’t know how to read music. I wish I did, but I don’t. I play it by ear and I always have. I’ve always been really sensitive to sound, so a lot of times, it’s sound. I write better when I’m in the car driving, watching things and hearing things. I also voice memo a lot, then I take it back and figure it out on guitar. So it depends. But a lot of it is from sound, for some reason.

Lyrically, the songs sound like they are very personal. Do you draw very heavily from your own life?

I think I do. I’m in awe of the John Prines of the world who write these stories, but they are very personal. I also try and allow space for somebody else’s emotions and feelings and thoughts. There’s an element of somebody wanting to take it for themselves. But yes, a lot of this record has an overarch of time and life in it. I think it’s just because it’s my first record, too, so there’s a lot of life in this one, including mine.

It sounds like you’ve led a pretty nomadic existence, moving from place to place and seeing lots of things. How do you think that transience, if at all, has influenced you as an artist?

Oh, man. When you grow up with parents like mine that just wanted us to see so much of the world … My first time leaving the country was at 14. Not many people get to do that. I went to Peru when I was a kid and experienced that and saw so much of another part of the world that we aren’t introduced to, oftentimes. I think that has helped me open my eyes to seeing the other side of things, with empathy and compassion, I hope.

It’s easy to forget, in the world that we live in. We become obsessed with our own stuff. But I do think that helped. I was talking the other day in an interview with Ann [Powers], and she was asking me about that. I got to live in India for a while, and my older sister lived there for five years. Just spending time around Hindi culture — which is so different than anything I’ve ever experienced. I can’t explain India. Even the way we made “Arizona Fire,” I feel like there’s an entrancing, kind of dream-like aspect to it where I did get inspired by the hypnotic, circular sound that is in traditional Hindi music. Traveling all over the country, seeing different ways of life, I feel like, if I could tell any young person, I’d say, “Go. Go see everything you can, because it’s going to seep into you.”

Going back to what you said about writing from a place of compassion and empathy … one thing I find myself wondering about anybody who’s releasing a piece of art right now is whether or not the political climate had an impact on those pieces. Did you find yourself feeling influenced by that, when you were writing some of these songs?

Yeah, there’s definitely some social aspects. “Devil’s Mouth” is very personal to me. It has my family involved in it. I had some even — I don’t know what the word is — baggage, or pain, I guess, from feeling like I’m on the outside of things, even being somebody that came out [as gay] pretty young, when it was pretty scary still. Those things are definitely reflected in there.

The current climate that we live in reminds me a lot of when I was little. There’s a lot of fear-based living. And there’s a lot of an idea of pushing us away from people who have really worked hard to be open. And even what happened just recently with DACA … I wrote a song with Bermuda Triangle, another band that I’m in, called “Tear Us Apart,” and it has everything to do with it. It’s actually really emotional for me to even get into right now because it deeply affects my family — my nuclear family of me and my girlfriend — and just the life we have. It’s a lot.

Right now, I feel like I have not even gone to those places yet to figure out how to have a voice. I just talk openly, and I will use my music however to defend people that are in trouble right now. And there are a lot of people that are, and a lot of people that don’t really understand what it’s like to be affected by the Trump administration. I grew up in a Hispanic culture, and it’s a scary time for a lot of us. I’ve been really upset for the last few days. I don’t even know how to explain it right now.

Well, on a more optimistic note, you did mention Bermuda Triangle. I haven’t seen people this excited about a new band in a while. How did y’all first start pulling this project together?

Oh, man. Thank God for the light-hearted things in life. We have serious songs — serious heartbreak, political things — but we are just so about having fun. If you’re ever able to come to a show, it’s just funny. Brittany is hilarious. I like to have a good time, and we’re all truly best friends. I hang out with them all the time. They’re the people I’m spending my life with. So it was just a natural progression. Brittany and I met each other four years ago, and we joke/believe that we met each other in a past life, all three of us. We talked to a psychic and she was like, “Oh yeah, you’ve known each other for forever.” So there’s a little element of mystery and fun and also just true friendship.

For us, what a wonderful time to be together and enjoy each other, and that’s what we want our shows to be like. I don’t know why I’ve read any of this stuff, but I’ve read some haters already, but Brittany is so special to people, and I get that. But the thing is, we’re also special to each other and she understands that. I think the world needs to understand that more, especially with us as women. We celebrate each other. We don’t compete against each other. We push each other to be better, and that’s what this band is about. We really truly love each other, and we really truly believe in each other’s music. We get to demonstrate that in the way we want to and not because we have to survive off this band. We all have our projects. Brittany is going to continue to blow our minds. Jesse has been the most underrated writer in Nashville for years, and I’m just so proud to see her finally get the attention she deserves. I’m just excited that this Triangle is going to give us an open door to have fun, but also to put out some really great stuff. Yeah, we basically met on porches drinking tequila and started playing music.


Photo credit: Zachary Gray