Julia Cannon is one of a kind. Energetic. Witty. Sparkly. Bold. Creative. Unapologetically and fully herself. Her energy is captivating, outfits intriguing – she sometimes shows up in a full ball gown on stage – and her music is catchy and relatable. With a magnetic presence and unapologetic authenticity, Julia brings a fresh and vibrant energy to the music scene. In addition to being a songwriter, instrumentalist, vocalist, and performer, she also produces and mixes her music.
Julia has played many Queerfest showcases and was part of Queerfest 2023, taking the stage at The Basement East. In this interview we talk about her dedication and the hard work required to pursue her career in music, her experience as an LGBTQ+ artist, and her pursuits as both an artist and producer.
What’s your ideal vision for your future?
Julia Cannon: It would include a lot more peace and a lot more freedom. I’ve been working since I was 12, sometimes two jobs trying to get to college or help my mom with her alterations shop or pay off my private student loans. I just want to be able to fully invest more time and more of the money that I make into my craft.
What is your greatest fear?
Not reaching my full potential and never being able to invest fully in myself.
What is your current state of mind?
I’ve been in the grind mindset my entire adulthood. I’m 30 now, and I’m finally starting to be able to do some of the things that I want to do. I just finished my first little tour and had a blast. I’m transitioning as I pay off my private loans in the next year or so.
What would a “perfect day” look like for you?
I’d sleep in until 10 a.m., go and have some tea with my cat, and then start playing guitar. Hopefully I’d end up making music somehow, and then a shitty rom-com and I fall asleep on the couch. Can you tell I’m an introvert?
Why do you create music? What’s more satisfying to you, the process or the outcome?
It’s the first way that I learned how to process and communicate my feelings and thoughts. And it’s still the best way to root around in there. And then I get to share it and that’s magical.
Do you create music primarily for yourself or for others?
It’s selfish. And I’m not even motivated by external validation, which is hell. But it’s also freeing. But sometimes my inner critic is a dick.
What’s the best advice you’ve ever gotten?
Recently I was freaking out about god-knows-what and my Uncle Vic said, “Just go where the joy is,” and I was like… damn, it is that simple.
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?
Find your people and go where the joy is. And also therapy.
What does it mean to you to be an LGBTQ+ musician?
Queerness in general just means freedom from following the norm. Life outside of the box. I think that translates to the art that we make as well.
What are your release and touring plans for the next year?
I have no idea. While I’m still working full time to pay off my loans, I’m taking it day by day. I’d love to release some EPs and keep playing in new cities. I had so much fun on tour.
Your album, How Many, came out this year. What was the process like for you to write, record, and release this collection of songs?
It was really fun and fulfilling. I want to keep growing as a producer and a mix engineer and I feel like I did that with this album. I got to see where I need to continue growing and have new goals for future projects. I crowdfunded How Many, so I was able to hire and work with a lot of people that elevated the project as well. It made me so happy.
You’ve collaborated with other LGBTQ+ artists like Purser. What is it like for you to work with other artists in the community?
My inner child is so stoked about it. I grew up in such a small town in Alaska. Being able to collaborate with inspiring artists who are also queer is incredibly healing.
What has your experience been as a queer woman of color in Nashville?
Mixed bag honestly lol. I feel tokenized sometimes and sometimes I’m happy to be representation for younger generations. I think, in general, things are trending upward. I feel safe and supported.
Artist:Thunderstorm Artis Hometown: Born on the North Shore of Oahu, Hawaii; lives in Nashville, Tennessee Song: “Scared to Love”
In Their Words: “Working with the From One to Tenn crew was such a breath of fresh air, they created such a beautiful space for me to be able to express myself in such a positive way in such an iconic venue.
“‘Scared to Love’ is my most vulnerable and transparent song yet. I wanted to write from a place that just felt raw and real and then I began to write this song. It’s easy to fall in love with someone, but the real work is found in the staying in love part. And in the beginning stages of my relationship with my wife, I was truly afraid of sharing all of my baggage with her. I was truly scared that if she knew the broken man I used to be, maybe she would have chosen a different life.” – Thunderstorm Artis
“I love this music and this is my favorite thing to do. Seeing things unfold through the lens of a camera while we experience a private concert a few feet away is incredible. When it’s happening, it’s the best place to be on Earth.” – David Allison, Pilot Moon Films
“In venues like this, I have filmed a lot of big Broadway-style shows with lots of activity, lights, and people running all over the place. It was so special to have this wonderful space to focus on the simplicity of these intimate performances and to actually hear how the instruments and voices fill this room.” – John DeMaio, Pilot Moon Films
Video Credits: Filmed by David Allison, John DeMaio, and Joel Malizia, Pilot Moon Films / Islander Entertainment Audio captured – Brett Blandon Mixed/Mastered – John Kelly Special thanks to Helene Cronin & Victoria O’Campo
Photo Credit: Video stills courtesy of Pilot Moon Films
Artist:Sully Bright Hometown: Forest City, North Carolina; currently lives in Nashville, Tennessee Song: “November” Album:Darling, Wake Up Release Date: October 13, 2023
In Their Words: “‘November’ is a song I wrote about being away from something you love. It’s about wishing for ‘November’ to come soon, whether that be the actual season of fall or someone. ‘Please come around this year, don’t make me wait any longer. I hope to see you soon, I hope to see you soon.’
“In the video we captured, I got the chance to sing the song on an old cabin porch in Roan Mountain, North Carolina. If you listen closely enough, you can hear a woodpecker. Be sure to check back in two weeks for the last video!” – Sully Bright
Photo Credit: Wonderfilmco Video Credit: Seth and Jenna Herlich, Wonderfilmco
Over his entire Grammy-nominated career, Brent Cobb has made no secret of being guided by a “Southern Star” – a rootsy creative beacon shining high above and seeming to point straight down on his South Georgia home.
A native of the Peach state, Cobb has staked a claim on the organic side of country, with acclaimed projects like Shine On a Rainy Day, Providence Canyon, and even the 2022 gospel set, And Now, Let’s Turn to Page…. Each one paints a loving portrait of Southern life, looking far beyond the cliches for inspiration. But with his new album Southern Star, those pictures are more vivid (and more Southern) than ever.
Finding easy-going wisdom and big-picture beauty in the simple minutiae of everyday life, Southern Star is engrossed in all things Georgia. Ten tender tracks were recorded in Macon, using Georgian musicians and embracing the sonic history of the region. That means a warm, humid mix of back-porch country and rural R&B, with funky (but feather soft) bass lines and a casual vocal drawl, as Cobb invites listeners in to his personal world – a world full of unexpected contrasts, and undeniable human wonder.
Speaking with BGS from that South Georgia home on a sunny fall day – perhaps the last one of the lawn-mowing season, he says – the humble and homegrown singer-songwriter explains what makes his Southern Star shine so bright.
Every artist or songwriter goes through phases of how they think about their role. What’s important to you these days?
Brent Cobb: It really hasn’t changed a whole lot. I know that doesn’t sound good, but I always try to still focus on my roots of where I’m from, and I try to still be universally personal, personally universal. … I think there’s something so poetic about specifically the American South and rural life, but also something that if you do it right, anybody anywhere can relate to it. So that’s really what I try to do. I try to make music that my kids can enjoy and that my grandma could enjoy, and everybody in between.
Tell me a little bit about Southern Star, the imagery of that title, specifically. I mean, is this kind of a play on the idea of a North Star guiding you?
Partly, yeah. You always learn growing up, if you get lost out there, you look for the Northern Star, it’ll guide you and give you direction. But I’m from South Georgia, so I look for the Southern Star. [Laughs] … So partly that. Then there was also my buddy ‘Rowdy’ Jason Cope, who was the founding member of The Steel Woods and played electric guitar for Jamey Johnson from 2008 until 2014 or so. He’s no longer with us [Cope passed away at age 42 in 2021, after suffering “severe complications from diabetes”]. But during those days he lived about 45 minutes outside Nashville, and I’d go down there to his place and we’d go to this little bar and it was a pretty seedy little spot where we’d hang out, it was called the Southern Star.
Plus, I often thought about my buddy as someone who sort of behind the scenes had a lot of influence on a lot of people, but they may not even be aware of it. He never got to be a superstar, but if nothing else he was a Southern star. And I feel that same way about myself sometimes. So there are a couple different meanings behind it. … I miss him every day.
The other part of this album is what seems like a love letter to Georgia – and maybe just the whole region. It can be easy to misunderstand the Southern people and the area, and you’ve called it kind of a melting pot, right? What’s so inspiring to you about Georgia?
I think it’s because, well, first of all the American South as a whole, there would be no music as we know it if not for the American South. And that comes with its blessings and the curses, and it wouldn’t be the same place without those things also. Specifically Macon is the home of Otis Redding and Little Richard, and then you have Ray Charles from right down the road, and then right up the road you got James Brown, and then of course the Allman Brothers. There’s so many endless artists that have influenced the whole world.
But then even just as day-to-day life, where I’m from, every school I went to, we’re all mixed in together down here. We’re living and praying and learning and working all together. It’s easy to be on the outside and look in, and go, ‘Man, the South, what a terrible place.’ And there are some terrible things that still happen to this day, and historically that are terrible, but for the most part we’re all living and working and eating and breathing together. You don’t hear about that side of the South so much. But I think that’s why the music from here is so influencing and so profound – it isn’t just one way. And you got people that obviously have had to struggle and people who still struggle to this day, but that’s where the good shit comes from. That’s where the great art comes from, for better or worse.
I read that this was your first self-produced record. Did it have a different vibe working that way, or did the sound come out any different?
Luckily I was able to use a couple of my friends as guinea pigs, so I got a little comfortable in the producer’s seat [on previous projects]. But more than anything I believe first of all, to make a great album, you need great songs, and then you can record them any way you want to record them. If it’s a great song, it’s a great song no matter what.
… I think the second most important part of making a great album is the drums and percussion. Once you have those two things, you can really leave it at that and it’s going to be great. Folks can sing along and might want to dance a little bit. You’re going to be fine.
Then you need a little funky bass part. And, being from that area of the music I heard my whole life – soul music and gospel music, it all has keys. So I knew I had to have some keys and organ on there. I don’t know that it was much different [from other records], except for this time I had nearly 20 years of experience.
“It’s a Start” is such an interesting track. On the surface, it’s just about simple things. But it seems to kind of point at a bigger truth, right? Where’d that come from?
Well, I appreciate you noticing that, because it’s with intent. I try to do that with most all of my songs – like I said earlier, to make something personal, make it universal. What is the core of that emotion or that experience? And vice versa, universally personal. That song particularly, I wanted to throw everybody off and not give that song a double meaning.
Really, why’s that?
I feel like sometimes I’m stuck in between two worlds. Sometimes I feel like people only think ‘Oh, there’s Brent writing another album about Georgia.’ And then I feel like some people go, ‘What is the deeper meaning here?’ Most of the time there is one for me, but that song is really about nothing and intentionally, it’s about exactly what it says.
People can get real meta about certain songwriters, but I just think that’s a mark of a really good artist.
Yeah I’m not ever complaining as long as anybody’s listening for any reason. I do think it’s funny though. Sometimes I feel like other songwriters may get the benefit of the doubt, like it’ll be a really on-the-nose double meaning, just real obvious that, “Oh, okay, you meant to give it this undercurrent.” Then other songwriters, sometimes I feel like including myself, they do not get that benefit. They only get the doubt. [Laughs]
Call me a simple man – I am. There should always be a little something extra in there if someone’s looking for it. But I also think a songwriter should do their best to craft it so that it can be enjoyed at face value.
“Shade Tree” seems like a fitting way to end things, then. It wraps the record up with a peaceful, soothing scene. Where did that come from?
Well, my sister and I had started that song two years probably before I even knew that I was going to make an album. My sister is such a wonderful singer and she’s got a lot of soul in her voice, but like me, she has a kid. It’s hard to just sit down and write a song together. Well, then I get studio time booked and I wanted to finish that song because I thought it really defined Southern Star as a way of life in the South – there was a pecan tree in my grandma’s backyard, so after church and after Sunday dinner, the whole family would hang out under it in the shade tree. A lot of things happened [under that tree] …
The day before going in the studio, I went over to my sister’s house and I had dropped my kids off at school, and we drank some coffee on her back porch amongst some pine trees. Then my wife, she threw in some lines and it became a family affair. And yeah, it seemed fitting.
The whole thing seems like it has so much personal meaning. What do you hope people take away from this one?
More than anything I always hope, like I’ve said, that it’s universally personal. I hope that anybody will be able to take away from it whatever they feel. And if nothing else, I hope they can just enjoy it in the background.
In Their Words: “Tim and I had hardly spent any time apart at all for nearly two years during the pandemic. There are times, especially in the winter, that I seem to struggle spending time on my own. I don’t like being left alone with my thoughts too long. He was heading out of town for a long weekend in Colorado, and I found myself riddled with the same old apprehension and anxiety about being alone for four days.
“I usually get kind of moody/cold and distant, so a few days prior, as the feelings began to surface, I communicated that I was struggling. I asked him to work on some sad lyrics for me to write music to while he was gone, so it would give my unwanted energy an outlet. I came home from a day of running around to the words of a tune, at the time titled ‘An Empty Room,’ sitting on the piano.
“He said the first thing that came to his mind when sitting down to write was quite literally an empty room, kind of symbolizing that loneliness. The first night he was gone I sat at the piano just reading the words over and over, and trying to find the right chord progression.
“It is really cool listening back to the earliest phone recordings I took that weekend, and slowly hearing the song come to life. It was a monumental moment for me, being able to be vulnerable enough to express my struggles and for both of us to be able to communicate it through a song.
“After he returned, we both felt the song needed a bridge, so we worked on the music and lyrics together to wrap it up. A few months later, while at rehearsal, the guys were upstairs taking a break, and I had asked Brandon (our keys player) to run through the song with me, as I had pictured it as a piano ballad up to that point.
“After the first verse, the guys were inspired, came quickly back downstairs and jumped in at the perfect time on the perfect beat, and we had what I call a ‘Holy Shit!’ moment. The intensity was so awesome that we all knew that is how it needed to be recorded!” – Malarie McConaha
Track Credits:
Lyrics by Tim Hunter Music by Malarie McConaha Produced by Tim Hunter, Malarie McConaha Mixed by Jim Scott Lead Recording Engineer – Kevin Willis Assistant Mix Engineer – Martin Cooke Vocals – Malarie McConaha Background Vocals – Malarie McConaha, Zachary Goforth, Tim Hunter Drums – Mike Malinin Bass Guitar – Chopper Anderson Rhythm Electric Guitar – Kevin Willis Lead Electric Guitar – Evan Opitz Acoustic Guitar – Tim Hunter Keys – Brandon Mordecai
There was a time when “Western” influence was a pillar of what we knew as country music. Now, the genre’s center of thematic gravity has shifted to the Southeast, and with that shift the Western influence has waned – but artists like Colby Acuff still uphold this mantle.
The thing is, Acuff’s version of “Western” life may not be what you envision.
A native of Idaho, Acuff is more at home in the craggy hills, tall pines and high-mountain streams than out on the open plain. The trails he sings of are often logging roads, and the dust on his clothes comes from mining operations. But the mystique of the Western U.S. is still just as intoxicating, especially to a back-east audience.
For years Acuff balanced regional tours with a side gig as a fly-fishing guide, but these days, the bait he’s throwing is old-school country and what he’s catching is some nationwide, early-career momentum. One of the few major label Nashville artists with a traditional sound and style, this year has seen Acuff release his debut album (Western White Pines), make his Grand Ole Opry debut, and tour with fellow breakout artists like Charles Wesley Godwin – paying his van-life dues along the way.
In mid-September, Acuff added six more tracks to the album with a deluxe edition release – every bit as rootsy and Western as the initial project – and next year he’ll hit 13 stadiums with superstar Luke Combs. While he was in Nashville for this year’s AmericanaFest, BGS caught up with Acuff about his growing platform and why he’s all about a view of the American West most people have never seen.
How are things going on the road? Your world looks pretty exhausting at the moment, but also a lot of fun – and I dig the gas station food reviews. What do you think you’ll remember most from this season of paying dues?
Colby Acuff: Well, hopefully all of it. I mean, I think it’s kind of like anything else – the things that stick with you are either the really good things or the really bad things, and fortunately, we haven’t had any really bad things. I think I’ll just remember the good times. Driving almost 65,000 miles this year in a van with six or seven guys? What’s not to remember? [Laughs]
We’ve been really, really fortunate to where every year it just seems like it’s getting a little bit bigger. For me just being a kid from Idaho, I don’t know if I ever saw it getting out beyond the county line, so I’m very happy and very pleased.
You made your Grand Ole Opry debut this summer. What was that experience like?
That was surreal. It’s still crazy to me that I got to do it. I’ve always said I’m typically the last person who you’d invite to anything. I mean, we don’t get invited to too many things – we just keep doing our own thing, and that’s great. But it means anytime we do get invited to something like that, I’m always pretty shocked. To have the first one out of the gate be the Opry, who not just included us but also include us with such kind words and open arms, it was an amazing experience.
It is interesting they were one of the first institutions to recognize you – but then again, it makes sense. You have a style very rooted in traditional country and Western sounds – even some bluegrass. That kind of clashes with the modern scene, right?
Everything we’ve done has a ton of grassroots, a ton of bluegrass influence in it, but it is really country/country folk. Our biggest thing is we haven’t really ever been defined – and I don’t know if anybody actually really knows where to put us! My whole goal is to make music that’s different and that’s good, music that means something, and we’ve found fans in that. I wouldn’t tell anybody that we’re a bluegrass band by any means, but I would say that if you’re a fan of bluegrass, there’s definitely stuff in our catalog you will enjoy.
The new deluxe version of the album has six new songs, for a total of 16. You’re singing about nature and Western life, but also chasing dreams – and even what happens when you catch the dream. Where did these new songs come from?
I think this whole record is Western music, and a lot of times people think that’s cowboys and that kind of situation. But I’m not a cowboy. I am from the West. I grew up in a very Western household from Idaho. But I’m from a mountain town, not from the plains. There’s cattle and stuff where I’m from, but it’s mostly loggers and lumber and paper mills and mining, and it’s a totally different side of the West that I don’t think a lot of people realize is up there. I mean, the neck of the woods I’m from is very similar to Kentucky, just more pine trees. It’s big on fly fishing and a lot of rivers, big lakes and big trees. And that’s a side of the West I want to represent, so I tried to basically form an entire record around it. This is potentially unknown to many people, but this is where I’m from.
“Movin’” is such a feel-good, timeless country track – where did that track come from?
My favorite part about “Movin’” is definitely the fact that it’s super easy on the ears, and at face value, it doesn’t seem as deep. But really the song is super deep to me because it’s about everybody who has decided to chase the dream with me. It’s a lot to ask somebody, to chase a dream with you. And not only myself and my girlfriend, but my whole band and their families have all moved to Nashville to do that. Don’t let the rear view make you sad. We’ll get there, we’ll figure it out. That whole thing is based around the fact that we’re all going and we’re looking forward, not backwards.
Speaking of dreams, tell me about “Livin’ Too Close to the Dream.” What’s this one about?
When we started out, before I even moved to Nashville, I’d go out to the local bar or whatever in Idaho with my friends and I’d run into people who’d be like, “Man, you’re really doing it. Congratulations, blah, blah.” They’d be like, “You must be out there living the dream.” And I’d be like “Wellll, I’m really close.” And then it turned into a joke where when you’re living too close to the dream. You’re living in limbo, you’re trying to climb up the mountaintop, but the road conditions are shitty. … We’re living too close to the dream now. [Laughs]
You’ll be touring with Luke Combs and doing some stadiums next year. That’s got some living the dream potential, right?
Oh God. I mean, I can’t thank Luke enough. I just couldn’t believe we got the phone call. There’s not a bad time to go play 13 stadium shows.
Are you guys going to work up a special stadium sized set, or how does that work for a roots band?
We will go out there and wave our flag. We’ll do our thing. Every single stage that you play, you got to earn that stage. I don’t care what it is. If it’s a sold out a stadium or some empty bar, you don’t walk on stage owning that stage. You got to put that set in to earn it and they got to give it to you. So we’ll do that just like we do every night.
Are you still getting time to fish?
Not as much, obviously. I mean, shit, my quota used to be 120 days on the river. Now I might get 15 or 20. We did a run with Charles Wesley Godwin, and he was kind enough to set up a fly fishing trip, and to invite me. We went out in Wyoming and caught a ton of fish, which is super nice. I’m fitting it in when I can.
A lot of cool stuff has happened to you this past year, but there’s still lots of people getting to hear you for the first time. What do you hope they take away from Western White Pines (Deluxe)?
I just hope they like the music, really. I hope it does something for ’em. I think for me personally, I never got into this because I wanted to be famous. I got into this because I wanted to make music that truly helps people. So I hope that they like it.
Artist:Afton Wolfe Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee Song: “Lost Prayers” featuring Courtney Santana Album:The Harvest Release Date: November 10, 2023 Label: Grandiflora Records
In Their Words: “Courtney’s vocals turned this one from a country waltz to a country waltz that explodes into a gospel hymn. And Anna’s violin part really tied it together beautifully. Hopefully someone hears the prayers, or at least the song.
“This video was filmed in the brief time that [videographers] Anana [Kaye] and Irakli [Gabriel] were available at the same time as Courtney, during AmericanaFest. It represents the offeror of the prayer, Afton, separated from the angel receiving those prayers, Courtney. The tragic figure sending prayers in the wrong direction no matter which direction. We didn’t have much time to plan or conceptualize, but we decided to go outside and brought some chairs. As Anana and I were looking at the setup, the concept and feel of the shoot materialized like magic. Then Anana edited it beautifully. With Courtney’s beauty and presence, the whole thing just turned out better than a plan would have. I wore the same thing to my gig that afternoon.” – Afton Wolfe
Track Credits: Written by L.H. Halliburton.
Afton Wolfe – guitar, vocals Doc Sarlo – keys Anna Eyink – violin Courtney Santana – vocals
Produced and engineered by Doc Sarlo. Recorded at Portland Playhouse Studio, Portland, Tennessee Mixed by Mark Robinson, Guidos South, Madison, Tennessee Mastered by Oz Fritz.
Video filmed, directed, and produced by Anana Kaye and Irakli Gabriel.
Artist:Sully Bright Hometown: Forest City, North Carolina; currently lives in Nashville, Tennessee Song: “She Left Nashville” Album:Darling, Wake Up Release Date:October 13, 2023
In Their Words: “I wrote the song ‘She Left Nashville’ over two years ago, late one cold Valentine‘s night. It was actually freezing outside; it was my first snow in Nashville. Someone I love had to leave town early and head back home to North Carolina because of the snow. This is my favorite video we captured. We recorded while driving through the Blue Ridge Mountains. It felt right to sit in the back of the car while driving through the mountains and singing my song, not to mention the beautiful green peeking through the fog as we drove further along the road. I hope you enjoy the video and check back for the next one in two weeks.” – Sully Bright
Photo Credit: Wonderfilmco Video Credit: Seth and Jenna Herlich, Wonderfilmco
With the September release of her album Queen of Time, Nashville artist Lindsay Lou takes listeners beyond a creative journey – it’s more like a long, strange, and satisfying trip, where her “radical truth” conquers all.
A former bluegrass songsmith with roots in groups like her former backing band, the Flatbellys, and Sweet Water Warblers, Lou’s Queen of Time marks the start of another new solo chapter and follows a rough time in her life filled with earthquakes of change. She both lost a grandmother who was pivotal to her development and experienced the end of a marriage – all while her career picked up steam. But, through those endings came a new beginning. One where she better understood her place in the universe, both spiritually and musically.
On Queen of Time, Lou welcomes herself to that new identity (and all who care to follow), doing so with a fresh sound and some old friends. Featuring Billy Strings and Jerry Douglas, 11 thought-provoking tracks infuse her bluegrass roots with atmospheric folk, back-porch psychedelia, and more, as lyrics and voice weave together into something like a sonic dreamcatcher – snatching ethereal truths from the cosmos and translating them in ways the mind can just begin to process.
Recently, Lou spoke with BGS about this heady transformation, working with her friends, and how her “teacher-turned-Rainbow-Gathering-healer” of a grandma helped shape her radical spirituality.
BGS: Tell me how you’re feeling about music making these days? I know this album comes after a lot of change in your life, personally and professionally. Has the way you feel about making music changed, too?
Lindsay Lou: It felt like the most freeing recording endeavor that I have ever set out on. Working with [producer] Dave O’Donnell was really great. He held a ton of space for me creatively and emotionally and just in all the ways. So it was really nice. I brought in all of my friends, and what drew me to music to begin with was jams that my family would have, so feeling among my chosen family, being able to bring in the people who I’ve been jamming with in living rooms and on stages for the last several years, was really, really sweet.
Honestly, I’m feeling really inspired and just really happy about music. All of the tours have felt like they were in really good flow, and spiritually, it just feels very open and satisfying. I sort of blew up my life a few years ago, and the last three years or so I’ve been gestating and rebuilding my path. It was rebuilding on the foundation I had laid down with the Flatbellys and the Warblers, so it wasn’t out of nowhere, but it felt like there was a lot of unknown – and there were times where I felt there’s just some fear that goes into it. But now I’m on the cusp of watching all of this be born and come to life, and it feels so good. It’s like everything that I could have hoped for.
Seeing the record in the hands of people and hearing all the stories they send me about how it’s touched their lives has been very, very fulfilling. And I’m watching the album chart and watching different things on the horizon, different gigs and stuff – it’s just really inspiring, and I feel really excited to follow this new path that I’ve laid out for myself.
You don’t always get that payoff when your life blows up, so congrats! Tell me a little bit about the imagery behind the Queen of Time theme. You’re asking the listener if they know who they really are – did that come from an epiphany you had?
It definitely came from an epiphany and the ongoing question and journey of self-discovery, because it’s something you never achieve. It’s just a journey you’re always on. The imagery [for the song “Queen of Time”] was definitely from Absolem, the caterpillar from Alice in Wonderland. He challenges Alice, “Who are you?” And it was less about who she was and more about who she identified as, because we contain multitudes. So this is a broad and complex question, and as I’ve been playing it, the song has sort of come to life and revealed itself to me in new and unexpected ways. I always love that with songs.
You start the album off with this refrain saying, “I don’t need the world to hear me / I’m singing and nothing else matters.” What’s the significance of that to you?
I guess it’s just acknowledging the personal relationship. I always say that the voice is a window to the soul, but a lot of people have this horrible trauma that they carry with them – that they’re not a good singer and that they don’t have a good voice, and so they don’t ever sing. I feel so much grief thinking about people not even singing to themselves. In my darkest hour, the most soothing thing that I have found to do is to sing to myself. And it’s not because I think that I have the greatest voice, it’s because singing actually releases endorphins in your mind. It’s like a physiological truth that the experience of singing is medicinal and it’s a form of meditation.
The obvious interpretation of that is that as career musicians, you’re always wanting more people to hear you and wanting your fan base to expand. But at the end of the day, the reason that I sing and I think the reason anyone sings, is because it is a magical and medicinal way of expressing your soul, your spirit, your inner truth. So just remembering that value that I don’t need to be anywhere to let my voice ring and to connect with my own soul in that way, that’s really the most powerful thing.
I know your grandmother had a big part in influencing the record. But on top of everything else she was to you, did she also help you get into music?
I guess in a roundabout way, she did. Her greatest influence on me was spiritually. She was a preacher woman, and she lived her life the best that she could in the literal footstep of Jesus. So she took everyone in and she welcomed everyone. She was always preaching that [unless] you have not sinned, don’t cast the first stone and really strongly believed that no one will be left behind. Like if God said the greatest commandment was to love God and to love your brother, then she spent her whole life practicing that. Now, I call myself a praying atheist. I don’t necessarily connect with any institution of religion, but I do connect with the practice of spirituality and of love. Even Christianity says that God is love. So in my mind it’s like, “Well, then let’s just get right to the heart of the matter and call it love!” If we’re living in love and if we’re thinking critically and we’re following our radical truth, then we’re doing it right.
Was music a part of your childhood?
[My grandmother] had 12 children and she surrounded herself with hippies and counterculture. And her husband – the father of her 12 children – was a musician. He played the trumpet and he sang, so they always sang to their children, and the songs that she sang to them, they sang to their children. So I heard all the gospel songs that she sang to my mom, because my mom sang them to me, and there’s been various forms of family bands throughout the generations of all of her children. The older kids had a rock band, and they would get together and sing gospel songs in harmony and Beatles songs and folk songs, and the younger kids formed bands with the older cousins. There was just always music around, so I think she just held space for music.
She sounds like an amazing person. Is that her voice in the phone conversations you put on “Love Calls”?
Yeah. I played that song for a couple of my friends before she was in it. There was this long expansive jam and my girlfriends listening to it were like, “We want more Lou here.” I thought, “Well, what version of Lou makes sense to go there?” And it dawned on me that it was the version of Lou that interviewed grandma. I interviewed my grandma on the one hand to sort of preserve her radical life story for posterity. And on the other hand, as a way of knowing myself. I’ve collected about 27 hours of her telling me her life story and how she came to believe what she believes. It’s a little bit foggy now, but I had an idea of what story I wanted to put there, and once that conversation was in there, the song had the context that it was calling for.
What was the context?
The song is about someone being a guide of love for someone else. And the conversation is her telling me the story of meeting someone at a rainbow gathering who she had a conversation with, and later found out that that conversation talked them out of suicide. Many parts of this record came together in the context of me witnessing suicides in my music community, and addiction and mental health struggles. And pretty much all of my music goes back to that in some way, because of where I came from and the world that I see around me.
Other songs have that through line to it too, right? Like “Nothing’s Working”? I know you worked with Billy Strings on that one, how did it come together?
He and I get together every once in a while to write and we had gotten together and started that song. He had just been hanging out with Bryan Sutton and had this open B shape thing in his head that he started to play along with, and he was talking to me about Ionia – the town that he grew up in. He had just seen so many people get a job and try to make all the right decisions and try to always do the right thing, and just end up with nothing to show for it, because they’re stuck in a system that doesn’t support them and wasn’t built for them, or a scene that really wasn’t good for them.
We wrote the first verse, and kind of left it at that, and it sat in my voice memos for a couple years. Then I was on a plane on my way to the Jeff Austin tribute concert benefit [late member of Yonder Mountain String Band, who died in 2019], and I was just thinking about things. I think I finished it on my way home, but during that same week, I attended my cousin Emily’s funeral. She died in her 20s and was struggling with opiate addiction. I don’t mention either of them in the song necessarily, but it really got me into the headspace of thinking about people I know who are still alive, who are struggling with similar challenges. The song is about telling their story, and telling their story with compassion and honesty.
I noticed a lot of hard bluegrass influence on tracks like “Rules,” and along with Billy you have a collab with Jerry Douglas. Do you still feel like you can be creative in the bluegrass form these days? Or is it harder to do that as you grow as an artist?
Bluegrass gave me a lot of tools and a home. It gave me a place to belong and an opportunity to hone my craft, just in terms of tightening up rhythm and getting better at playing the guitar – and having an entire world of people I can get together with anytime, anywhere, and play any one of the many songs in the bluegrass canon and sing three-part harmony, like we’ve been a band our whole lives. It gave me so much, but I didn’t grow up in a family or a community that played bluegrass music. It was something I found in my early 20s. I’ve never been like people like Billy and Molly [Tuttle] – [bluegrass] is not just a part of their history, it’s like their earliest memories.
I grew up doing acoustic music, so there’s always going to be some element of that in my music. And I’m so grateful to have bluegrass now as a tool of expressing myself. But I don’t think I find it harder as I get older. I just find it easier to connect more authentically with my own voice, and bluegrass is a tool of doing that – but it’s not the only tool.
Over the past couple of decades, the music industry has seen more women rising to become leaders in audio engineering and producing. However, even as access, acceptance, and opportunity continue to improve, women are still painfully underrepresented in these career paths, making up just five percent of engineers and producers worldwide. Over the past few weeks, I’ve talked to a handful of these remarkable women, in person at coffee shops, over the phone, and via email, about how they built their careers and the challenges they have faced in a male-dominated industry. These women are trailblazers, often without career models to follow, often the only woman in the room when they work. Their tenacity, talent, and dedication are evident, and I feel honored to share their stories.
As a musician who came up in the the bluegrass scene, the first female producer I ever knew of or worked with – and now that I think of it, the only female producer I’ve worked with who was not hired by me – is the legendary Alison Brown, virtuosic banjo player and co-owner of Compass Records. Since Brown has seen a lot of generational change over her tenure in Nashville, I thought I should start by getting her perspective.
Brown had already solidified her reputation as an instrumentalist, winning IBMA’s Banjo Player of the Year award in 1991 and touring with Alison Krauss, when she decided to start a record label along with her husband, Garry West. “We were talking about how to have a sustainable life in music,” she said, “And it was one of those napkin drawing in a coffee shop moments.”
The two were on tour in Sweden with Michelle Shocked, for whom Brown was the bandleader. “When I look back, I can see how a lot of the opportunities I had were carved out for me by other women. I was about to go to law school when Shocked asked me to be her bandleader and then we went on a world tour. At Compass, I never thought of myself as a producer, Garry was more interested in that role. But when Dale Ann Bradley was going to make an album she asked me to produce it, so I said yes, and that’s how I started producing.”
Since then, Brown has produced seven Grammy-nominated records, as well as winning a Grammy for her own song, “Leaving Cottondale,” off of her 2000 record, Fair Weather.
When asked about her production style, Brown interestingly observes that she may come at it from a traditionally female perspective, by observing and predicting other people’s feelings and needs. “Especially in the studio, you need to make people feel at ease…” she explains. “Ultimately your job is to draw the best out of the musicians. Everyone has that thing they’re afraid of having to do under the microscope, but the goal is to make the musician feel comfortable enough to reach out and hit something new.”
“Sometimes with the older guard guys, I’ll say, ‘OK, lets try to play through the chart’ and they will act like they don’t understand me. ‘What did she say? What does she want to do?’ … Like they want someone to translate it for them, because it’s coming from a woman. It’s annoying, but I know they’re acting that way because they are nervous and they don’t want to look stupid. So when I’m producing, I try to intuit those things about people, and stay focused on the end goal of making a great record.”
Engineer and producer Shani Gandhi has been in Nashville since 2011, and has been been nominated for two Grammys, winning Best Engineered Album (Non-Classical) for her work on Sierra Hull’s 2020 album, 25 Trips, which she engineered, mixed, and co-produced with Hull. Originally from Singapore, Gandhi was raised in Perth, Australia. She moved to the U.S. in 2007 to attend Ithaca College, where she received a BA in music with a concentration in sound recording technology.
Gandhi was drawn to engineering and production because of her love of music and her simultaneous dislike for performing. “As a kid, I didn’t even know that that side of music existed as a career, but once I found the Audio Engineering Society, I immersed myself in it, I was obsessed.”
Gandhi told me about her philosophy for building a community you can learn from and create with. “It’s really important to have a strong community of both mentors and peers,” she explains. “I had people that I was looking up to that were holding me to a very high standard, and then I had friends and colleagues where we were all working really hard and trading favors, and that’s how I built my freelance career. So you need really good people at all levels to make it work. You don’t want to feel like the smallest person in the room all the time, but you also need someone around to tell you, ‘I know you think what you’re doing is really cool, but it’s really not,’” she laughs.
Although she works on every stage of recording and producing, Gandhi’s great love is for mixing. “My approach is to always remember that it’s not my record, it’s the artist’s art when it comes down to it and they’re the ones who have to live with it for the rest of their lives. I do like things to be lush and tall and wide and pristine. I don’t go immediately to that tape or garage sort of sound, but I can do it. If that’s what the artists wants, that’s what the artists gets.”
Also hailing from Australia, producer and engineer Clare Reynolds – AKA Lollies – came to Nashville via LA, where she was signed as a songwriter for hip-hop producer Timbaland’s company. She essentially taught herself production and engineering on the job. “I was in a lot of big studios with big producers over those three years. It was really intense, I was almost always feeling out of my element, but I learned a lot. I would be writing the song, but also watching the others work, asking questions like, ‘Why are you using that mic?’ ‘How are you getting that sound?’ And trying to absorb everything they were doing.”
In Los Angeles, Reynolds tells me, she learned how to enter a room like a man: “I was with so many different, very big personalities that were at the top of their game and their egos were massive. They were just hyped … and if you want to be respected, you can’t go in tentative, you can’t code yourself as female. You have to act how they act, which is to say, you can’t care if other people like you. I would have this attitude like, ‘We don’t need to be friends, but we’re gonna write the best song ever.’”
Reynolds says that she will always love writing songs, but at least for now, production and engineering have taken a hold on her. “I will be forever learning,” she says, “But I do think that my experience with writing helps me approach the audio side from a very musical and song-based perspective.”
Engineer and producer Diana Walsh echoed Reynold’s sentiment about the typical energy in a recording studio. “With women being so critically underrepresented in these technical roles, it can sometimes take a minute for the gender biases in the room to dissipate,” she told me. “My focus is always on doing great work, and treating everyone in the room with the same respect I expect in return.”
Growing up in Houston, Texas, Walsh played guitar, but was always more interested in how she could record her guitar than how she could perform with it. Her mom bought her very first Shure SM57 microphone, which still gets used today in her sessions.
Walsh recorded her own music at home before heading to Belmont University to study music business, with an emphasis on production. While in school she started freelance recording for friends and classmates and after graduating, she began working at the historic RCA Studio B, where she is now the Studio Manager, as well as maintaining a busy freelance engineering schedule.
Her engineering and production credits include Matchbox 20, Amanda Shires, JD McPherson, and Sister Sadie. Walsh believes that representation is key for getting more women into the studio: “Working at RCA B, I have the opportunity to talk to a lot of school groups. After our sessions, I often speak with the students and ask about their goals for their future in music. Through these conversations, I’ve been thrilled to hear that more and more young women are taking an interest in engineering/producing.”
Throughout my conversations with each of these women, one point they all emphasized was the importance of staying focused on making great work in the face of difficult environments. “Nobody can argue with good work,” they each told me in their own way. And as we continue to see beautiful records being made by women, I have to agree.
Photo Credit: Alison Brown by Russ Harrington; Shani Gandhi by Joshua Black Wilkins.
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