Tag: natalie hemby

Sawtooth
Country Soul

Posted on by Shelby Williamson

To say Kashus Culpepper’s life has changed over the last five years is an understatement. A former state champion wrestler, firefighter, and EMT, the Alabama native developed a raspy, smoke-and-voodoo vocal while stationed in Spain with the U.S. Navy in 2020, forced to pass the pandemic in his bunk. Since then, he’s knocked over one milestone after another.

With a distinctive mix of country, blues, Southern rock, and soul, the 27-year-old cites Robert Johnson, Bill Withers, and Hank Williams as inspirations and is now bringing his roots-renegade instincts to mainstream fans. Despite only releasing his first official track in June of 2024, the music industry short-timer has earned big-time appreciation.

That includes the respect of heroes like Elton John and John Mayer, a Grand Ole Opry debut, tour dates around the country, and inclusion on 2025 “artist-to-watch” lists at GRAMMY.com, Apple, Billboard, Pandora, and more. Culpepper just finished a run of dates with Leon Bridges and he’ll hit the road with Whiskey Myers in June before joining tours by Sierra Ferrell, Darius Rucker, and others later on in the summer. It would all be overwhelming, if he had time to think about it.

“I’ve just been taking it day by day,” Culpepper tells Good Country with a hearty laugh, waiting to perform at a community festival in Arkansas last month. “I think that’s the best course of action. Don’t think too far in the future and just take each show, each writing session, each recording session one at a time. Just pray everything works out and keep going. … Because when things started happening, I was like, ‘Oh, snap.’”

We wanted to get to know Culpepper before anything else “happens,” and figure out what’s fueling the hype. As it turns out, this all-natural talent is just going with the flow.

I read that you didn’t even start playing guitar until you were in Spain for the Navy, right? What made you want to do that?

Kashus Culpepper: Yeah, in Spain we got shut down and I didn’t have nothing else to do, man. I mean, literally I was bored out my mind. It’s a different type of boredom, because during COVID you couldn’t do nothing. It’s not like you can just go outside or go to a bar or hang with your friends. We couldn’t do nothing. So this was a weird point in my life and my buddy had a guitar in the barracks. I was like, “Well, this is a perfect time. I literally have nothing to do.” I just went on YouTube and looked up covers I wanted to learn. Music has always been something I go back to whenever life is hard. So I resorted back to music and that ended up leading me to learn guitar, eventually learn to write songs.

Thank God for YouTube, huh?

Shout out Marty Schwartz!

You seem to have a lot of diverse tastes, but that bluesy, soulful country thing – why did that speak to you?

I think maybe that’s just my music taste. My first taste of music was gospel, and I’m from Southern Alabama, so gospel there, it’s really rootsy already. It already sounds like a folk song. And the way they sing it sounds so bluesy, like old Son House type of vibes. From there I got into blues music outside of church. I got into country music and R&B and folk music a little. I’m all over the place when I listen to music. I can go from Allman Brothers to a Conway Twitty song really quick.

But I know you like John Mayer and all that stuff, too, right?

Yeah, yeah. I mean, I love so many of those rock artists, ZZ Top, Led Zeppelin, Skynyrd. People ask me all the time my influence and I’m just like, “Bro, it’s so hard to name everybody.” John Mayer was a huge thing for me. Recently I went back to Norah Jones, I’m like, “Man, I used to love this record.” But with my music, at the end of the day, it’s just centered on my lyrics. I just want it to feel as rootsy as possible, because all the music I come from – blues, folk, R&B, soul, gospel – it’s all roots music at the end of the day.

Your voice is so good at expressing these really raw emotional states, I think. Is that how you are naturally? Or does that only come out in your music?

Most of the time? Honestly man, it’s just with the music. It’s hard to open up to the people. I think for me music has been great, just to express how I actually feel through my singing and my lyrics. I don’t usually just tell people.

So you’re from Alabama. After the Navy, did you go home and keep playing?

I got out the Navy in 2022 and by that point I already had gigs booked on the Mississippi Gulf Coast. I was booked at all these casinos, all these bars. I was booked out for a year in advance. I got out and went straight to full-time doing cover band shows pretty much for another year, until I literally couldn’t take any more of it. Then that’s when I decided I really want to write songs. Literally, I decided “I’m going to move back home to save as much money as I can and move to Nashville.” I was home for maybe a week or two and posting a lot on TikTok and I remember I was in my mom’s living room. I posted a TikTok, I went out because I had an interview for a job, I got back home, and it had reached 100,000 views. From there it was just, “Oh, snap. It’s going on.”

@kashculpeppermusic Replying to @Casey Wayne One week till “Man of His Word” drops! Appreciating all the support on this one❤️ Pre-save link in bio🔥 #country #singersongwriter #original #kashusculpepper #newmusic #livemusic #countrymusic #countrymusiclover #tour #soul #newcountry ♬ original sound – Kashus Culpepper

That’s awesome. Congratulations on how that all turned out. I think one reason for it might be that your music seems so unconventional, almost untamed. Maybe because you did it on your own? Do you feel like fans are hungry for that?

I think so. We talked about John Mayer. John Mayer is kind of like that. He’s all over the place. Sometimes he’ll do a blues song and then straight up pop, and then an R&B song with Leon Bridges. I think people just love that from artists. Artists just being artists. Just do whatever the song feels like. That’s how I feel with songs.

“A Man of His Word” is super soulful, with lots of that gospel influence and a big raspy vocal. Tell me about being the man a girl deserves. Where’s that theme coming from?

I wrote that song with Natalie Hemby and at the time we was just talking about life. The song is from a perspective of a guy looking into a girl and she’s going through hardships, because she don’t have a man of his word. She’s drinking a lot, doing a whole bunch of stuff. The song has a lot of me in it. I grew up with a single mother and you don’t know how those things can affect you without having somebody in your life you can trust. You get the feeling you can’t really trust nobody, because that’s not part of your life, and that leads to mental health problems or substance abuse. You don’t even notice it at the time, until you look back and you’re like, “Dang, that’s why I feel that way.”

After that comes “Broken Wing Bird” with Sierra Ferrell and it’s on the opposite end of the spectrum. Very threadbare and folky, right?

Oh man. So I’m a huge fan of Willie Nelson. One of my favorite songs is “Funny How Time Slips Away” – I just love so much the crooner era that he was doing – and I wanted a song that felt like that.

I wrote the song about somebody that’s not really good for you and you just keep taking ‘em back regardless, because you love them and no matter what they do, you’re always going to. So she’s like my broken-winged bird – no matter what she does, she’s flying back and I’m always going to help her out and then she’ll probably be on her way again.

It’s been good getting to know you a little. Big picture, what do you hope people take away from your music?

I think overall, I hope they can see I’m just an artist trying to express the way I see things, and I hope in some way they can find music that can fit every part of their life. Whether they’re trying to have a good time out partying, or if they want to soak into the sadness of a lover they lost, I just hope my music can fit some aspect of their life. And I hope they can enjoy it.

Photo Credit: Cole Calfee

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Charley Crockett, Gillian Welch & David Rawlings, Waxahatchee Among Americana Nominees

Posted on by Editor

The Americana Music Association has announced the nominees for its 24th annual Americana Honors & Awards. This year’s nominations were revealed by Brandi Carlile, Kashus Culpepper, S.G. Goodman, Jim Lauderdale, Kacey Musgraves and Molly Tuttle in a social media announcement.

The winners will be announced during the Americana Honors & Awards on Wednesday, Sept. 10, 2025, at the historic Ryman Auditorium in Nashville. The celebrated program is the hallmark event of AMERICANAFEST, which returns for its 25th year on Sept. 9-13, 2025.

A full list of categories and nominees for the Americana Music Association’s 24th annual Americana Honors & Awards is below the video player.

ALBUM OF THE YEAR:

Lonesome Drifter, Charley Crockett; Produced by Charley Crockett & Shooter Jennings

Foxes in the Snow, Jason Isbell; Produced by Jason Isbell & Gena Johnson

Manning Fireworks, MJ Lenderman; Produced by Alex Farrar & MJ Lenderman

South of Here, Nathaniel Rateliff & The Night Sweats; Produced by Brad Cook

Woodland, Gillian Welch & David Rawlings; Produced by David Rawlings

ARTIST OF THE YEAR:

Charley Crockett

Sierra Ferrell

Joy Oladokun

Billy Strings

Waxahatchee

DUO/GROUP OF THE YEAR:

Julien Baker & TORRES

Dawes

Larkin Poe

The Mavericks

Gillian Welch & David Rawlings

EMERGING ACT OF THE YEAR:

Noeline Hofmann

MJ Lenderman

Medium Build

Maggie Rose

Jesse Welles

INSTRUMENTALIST OF THE YEAR:

Fred Eltringham

Alex Hargreaves

Megan Jane

Kaitlyn Raitz

Seth Taylor

SONG OF THE YEAR:

“Johnny Moonshine,” Maggie Antone; Written by Maggie Antone, Natalie Hemby & Aaron Raitiere

“Ancient Light,” I’m With Her; Written by Sarah Jarosz, Aoife O’Donovan & Sara Watkins

“Wristwatch,” MJ Lenderman; Written by MJ Lenderman

“Sunshine Getaway,” JD McPherson; Written by Page Burkum, JD McPherson & Jack Torrey

“Heartless,” Nathaniel Rateliff & The Night Sweats; Written by Nathaniel Rateliff

Photo Credits: Charley Crockett courtesy of the artist; Gillian Welch & David Rawlings by Alysse Gafkjen; Waxahatchee by Molly Matalon

Strings of Support: Sarah Jarosz’s Mentors and Co-Writing Magic

Posted on by Shelby Williamson

Sarah Jarosz is what happens when young women are taken seriously. A huge part of the mandolinist’s story is that she had supportive male mentors and that has added to her confidence. We all know the age old story of “Young woman shows promise, gets exploited by the patriarchy and it affects her work.” We need to hear stories like this. Starting in her hometown of Wimberley, Texas, just 45 minutes outside of Austin – the live music capital of the world – Sarah found the mandolin at 10 years old. Labeled a prodigy, and thanks to the encouraging spirit of folk music, she found mentorship with seasoned professionals like David Grisman, Ricky Skaggs, Tim O’Brien and Béla Fleck. Following her time at The New England Conservatory of Music, she moved to New York and would go on to collaborate with people like Chris Thile in the Live From Here House Band and her trio I’m With Her, featuring Aoife O’Donovan and Sara Watkins, and won four Grammys.

LISTEN: APPLE • SPOTIFY • STITCHER • AMAZON • MP3

After making the move to Nashville, on her latest album, the very impressive and sonically expansive Polaroid Lovers, Jarosz collaborated with producer Daniel Tashian, which originally was just a low-stakes co-writing project. The success of her first co-writing experience with Daniel led her to pursue other songwriting sessions with Ruston Kelly and Natalie Hemby. The collaboration found on the record has opened Sarah up to new sounds and new experiences. In our conversation, we talk about Sarah stepping into her own voice with confidence on this record and knowing her musical self enough at this point in her life. She describes her experience with ​confidence using the ​Dunning–Kruger effect, in which people with limited competence in a particular domain overestimate their abilities. AKA “fake it till you make it,” AKA “leap and the net will appear.” She also talks about her parents’ influence on her early musicality and how her mom is doing with her cancer remission. An overall theme of this conversation is that Sarah never lost sight of her goal: Keep it all about the music and don’t let noise get in the way of your important work.

Photo Credit: Shervin Lainez

Artist of the Month: Sarah Jarosz

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

The songs of Sarah Jarosz have always been snapshots. Each, whether literally or obliquely, is a tableau – a window into a moment in time, an attempt to capture but never contain the intangible present. Whether demonstrable story songs or abstract, poetic text paintings, Jarosz’s catalog of material shows a ubiquitous skill – a writerly athleticism – for ushering her listeners into the scenes she inhabits or constructs. From her earliest release to her newest, Polaroid Lovers (out January 26 on Rounder Records), Jarosz’s point of view has been confident, relatable, and inviting.

Simultaneously, the expansive body of work she’s produced since her 2009 Sugar Hill debut, Song Up in Her Head, tells a tale as much of uncertainty as of skill and finesse and, within that uncertainty, a commitment to relishing the journey – rather than rushing toward an arbitrary destination.

A teenager when she first gained national notoriety, Jarosz was often compared to her mentor-peer-friend Chris Thile and her contemporary, Sierra Hull. While child bluegrass, Americana, and string band stars – proverbial and oft-mythologized prodigies – have a much more gentle route to adulthood than say, their Hollywood counterparts, it’s still a time hallmarked by experimentation, growing pains, exploration, and a prerequisite amount of floundering. Musically, Jarosz may have “floundered” a bit less than say, Hull or Thile or any kid whose teen years may have had a recorded, audio history. Nevertheless, you can trace a through line of angst, introspection, and finding oneself underlying the precocious self confidence of her early albums.

By the time Jarosz reached 2013’s Build Me Up From Bones, which gained her her first Best Folk Album Grammy nomination, that uncertainty was no longer an undertone, but a focal point in her music. On both Bones and the follow up full-length, Undercurrent, which then won the Grammy for Best Folk Album, Jarosz picks up and runs with those musical expectations, whether overt or projected. She plays with the dichotomy between the public nature of her growing up a heart-on-her-sleeve songwriter and bluegrass picker and the individual, private nature of seeking and finding her own agency within those paradigms. She purposefully built broad and appealing, commercial songs that are both assured in their sincerity and unconcerned with virtuosity or authenticity for their own sakes. She knows exactly what she’s doing, even – if not especially – when she does not.

Needless to say, the following projects World On The Ground and Blue Heron Suite feel like they are both indelible home bases built on the steady foundation of the albums that led to them. Each are distillations of Jarosz’s musical commitment to bringing her audience inside the turmoil and delight, growth and doubt, beauty and bittersweetness of life and song. Jarosz had arrived at her destination, hadn’t she? In her beloved New York City, a Grammy winning artist, picker, and songwriter who knows who she is and why she does what she does.

Ah, but remember, it’s the journey Sarah Jarosz is after and not the destination. Polaroid Lovers is a lens into the new growing pains, the new uncertainty, the new uprooting and, eventually, re-rooting Jarosz finds herself in the middle of now. She recently moved to Nashville, building a life with her new husband, bassist Jeff Picker. Polaroid Lovers, like its predecessors, brings the listener into how living in Nashville has reshaped Jarosz’s songwriting and creative and recording processes.

It may not sound like a Music Row album – it sounds, as all of her work does, exactly like Sarah Jarosz. Whatever that sounds like! – but it’s a collection that has the Row tangled among its roots and certainly in the water. Polaroid Lovers was recorded at Sound Emporium and produced by Daniel Tashian, plus it has many a credited co-writer, a bit of a departure for the songwriter who, besides in her work with Aoife O’Donovan and Sara Watkins in I’m With Her, rarely co-writes material for her own albums, preferring to pen most lyrics and tunes herself. Music Row and Americana hit writers like Ruston Kelly, Natalie Hemby, Jon Randall, Gordie Sampson, Tashian, and others each lent their own fingerprints and touches to this set of song snapshots.

Does Polaroid Lovers sound new? Does it sound like Nashville? Yes, it certainly does, but it doesn’t sound instant or ready-made either, and it always sounds like quintessential Jarosz. This is evidenced nowhere on the record as strongly as one of its lead singles, “Columbus & 89th.” Among more than a few masterworks in Jarosz’s catalog that center on her beloved, transplanted (former) hometown, New York City, “Columbus & 89th” is perhaps the best example of the form. Wistful and hopeful, with a tinge of bittersweetness from the wisdom that comes with age, it paints such a specific picture – of a literal street corner – but, as in all of her snapshots, this polaroid is not confining or finite, it’s resplendent and limitless. Following the photography metaphor one step further, it’s not difficult to see how the perspective Jarosz has gained by moving away from the city might have enabled her to render such a picture perfect homage to New York.

This is a vibrant, animated collection of Polaroid Lovers. This is Sarah Jarosz at her best– for now.

Watch for our Artist of the Month interview feature with Jarosz to come later this month, plus we’ll do a catalog deep dive and showcase plenty more content pulled from the BGS archives. For now, enjoy our Essential Sarah Jarosz Playlist:

Photo Credit: Shervin Lainez

Yola Chooses to Stand For Herself, But She’s Always Looking for Big Ol’ Softies

Posted on by Editor

Speaking to Yola over Zoom is way more fun than a video call has any right to be. From the time she dials in from the UK, she’s ready to chat. Good thing, because there’s a lot to talk about. About a week earlier, she picked up two Grammy nominations in the American Roots Music category of Best American Roots Song (“Diamond Studded Shoes”) and Best Americana Album (Stand For Myself), and she’s clearly still exhilarated by it.

“It’s very hard for it to even land because it feels really super surreal,” she says. “I don’t know how else to describe it. I’m endlessly grateful to the work that everyone puts in to get me to this point, and honestly, the faith that people have to let me lead at all. I wasn’t always in positions like that, ones that would let me lead.”

She’s speaking of a different kind of leadership style than, say, former British Prime Minister Theresa May, whose sparkly footwear worn during a speech about childhood poverty led to the idea of writing “Diamond Studded Shoes.” Although it does have a feel-good groove, you can’t miss its message of inequality. “And that’s why we gots to fight,” she sings.

To create Stand for Myself, her second album on Nashville-based label Easy Eye Sound, Yola reunited with producer-songwriter Dan Auerbach, and she also pulled in a roster of friends like Brandi Carlile (who sings on “Be My Friend”) and songwriters such as Natalie Hemby (who co-wrote five of the 12 songs) and Aaron Lee Tasjan (a co-writer on “Diamond Studded Shoes”). Still, the defining voice of Stand for Myself is, of course, Yola herself.

BGS: When I was listening to this record again, I was thinking that it does seem like a roots record in the sense that it traces your path from the beginning of your story. And as the album progress, here’s the blossoming at the end. Is that fair to say?

You nailed it. You got it. You felt it. You felt the emotions! It is. I was a bit of a doormat at the beginning and minimizing myself. Joy Oladokun and I were talking about when you grow up as a token Black person in an environment that there aren’t a lot of Black people in, and you’re trying to play guitar and trying to fit in, and you’re not fitting into a trope. … So, we’re in this minimizing, trying-to-fit-in phase. Trying to fit into Eurocentric life as non-Eurocentric people. That’s where we start the album, and then “Dancing Away in Tears” is a bit like a growing out of a relationship, romantically, but obviously it can be socially as well. When I’m singing it, it’s kind of both. It’s like growing out of an environment and just needing to be in another space.

And as you go through the record, “Diamond Studded Shoes” is about the idea of how the macro affects you. You might grow out of a microcosm, but the macro is going to affect how you interact. … Because I’m moving through that, I’m realizing the environment that I’m in and I’m realizing what I want from it, which is essentially connection. I think that’s why by the time we get to “Be My Friend,” you start to realize that I want to connect to people who want to connect to people! (laughs) That’s really what it is! And then I finally do, and as a result, I blossom. As I think humans do. Humans *like* humans, and when they feel seen, they blossom.

That’s really this record. It’s feeling seen, feeling loved, feeling allowed to grow and to do things without someone being like, “Oh, you didn’t serve me. Therefore I’m going to sabotage your existence,” which has been a lot of my life. Or people saying, “Oh, you outgrew me and I don’t like that, so I’m going to sabotage your existence.” It never seems to end, that idea. Or to sabotage people that are trying to help you get somewhere, so it’s not just you. It’s your friend or your squad or whatever. I’m dealing with that. I think “Whatever You Want” is about that, what I like to affectionately call the “bro”-tocracy, a top-down “bro”-tocratic system! (laughs)

This record is called Stand for Myself and not Stand BY Myself. You have surrounded yourself with important people here.

Yes! Just loving people. Big ol’ heart people! Softies! They might be badasses. Brandi and Natalie are some of my besties. Absolute softies of the highest order! That’s really what I’m looking for. I meet all sorts of people, and the people that will stick around in my life, that I will never outgrow, will be those big ol’ softies. Soft badasses! That’s my type!

When you are putting a band together, what qualities are you looking for?

Exactly the same qualities. A badass giant softie who can survive a five-hour brunch with me … and want more! (laughs) For real! Megan [Coleman], the drummer, is one of my best friends of all time. We’re doing Christmas together. She came around for a distance-hang in my yard during lockdown and we were like, “Oh, it’s so hot and disgusting!” We would be spraying water and fanning ourselves and trying to drink gin and tonic, just hanging out! We can spend hours — hours! — talking crap.

You’ve got to live with these people! Literally live in a box with these people. They’ve got to be your favorite people and they better be really amazing at doing their job, because you don’t want to micromanage them the whole time. No one wants to do that, but you want them to be excellent — excellent people, excellent at their job. So, that’s my type. That’s always the type of people I write with. Everything. When I can’t find that, I just wait. I’m patient until I can find that.

Let’s talk about patience. That seems to be a theme in your life. Can you talk about how patience has factored into your story?

Patience has factored into it. I wasn’t really aware of the time it was taking because I could always see the incremental steps, so I think that’s what makes it tolerable. If you were 19 and someone said, “Hey, it’s going to take this long,” you would say, “WHAT THE FREAK?!” It would be horrific! But you don’t know, and you only see every little step.

For example, from a young age, I was touring with DJ producers. We were opening for James Brown in Australia on this tour that this millionaire (now billionaire) guy would put on, just for his own personal entertainment. It was ridiculous money. … It felt like I was on my way because we were doing 20,000-plus natural amphitheater shows in Melbourne, Brisbane, Sydney, Perth … I felt like I was in it. I was in a band called Bugs in the Attic. They were signed and doing some things. But then it just took so much more time, and I got nodules and lost my voice. I had to quit all my jobs. My body wasn’t happy. I was internalizing all of this dissatisfaction instead of expressing it or dealing with it — or knowing how to deal with it or knowing anyone that would let me speak adjacently about what was on my mind.

I allowed people to clip my wings a little bit because I was of some use to other people. I had useful skill sets, so if I was in service, I was often making people a lot of money. And not myself! But other people. *Loads of money.* And loads of acts did good off the back of me. That was something that started becoming too evident. (laughs) I was like, I can’t have this! You know what? I’m going to have to be the master of my own identity.

You’ve been wanting to do this since you were 4 years old, right?

For real. One hundred percent, yeah, I have. I knew it. What I am doing right now is what my 4-year-old self said I should do. But I kept on getting talked out of doing what my 4-year-old self said, because I couldn’t possibly know at that age, right? Only I totally did! And they were like, “Maybe you should be a backing singer.” I don’t wanna do that. Or “Maybe you should be in a band.” Well, I’ll try it, but I don’t know if I wanna do that either. Or “Maybe you should just write for other people.” That sounds like fun, but I feel like I’ve got something to do myself. Or “Maybe you shouldn’t do it at all.” There were so many different options other than maybe just support you in being the artist. It’s a bit of a way around the houses, you know, but my 4-year-old self was dead-on. I should have just listened to her!

On your first record, Walk Through Fire, you’re pictured on the cover playing your guitar. Has that always been part of your dream, to be an instrumentalist as well as a singer and songwriter?

Oh, I’ve only picked up a guitar comparatively recently to most of my friends. I picked it up in 2014. I was a topliner before that – lyrics and melody, which is much of the song still. But I was very codependent. I was always reacting to people’s chords. It was harder for me to get something out on my own. People around me seemed very hellbent on making sure I couldn’t get things out on my own because if I wasn’t codependent, then all of a sudden they don’t have this topliner who can do all of the stuff. They’d tell me, “You don’t need to pick up the guitar. Don’t worry about it.” It’s really hard to play C, D, and G. I wouldn’t even look into it! (laughs) “I don’t think you have the inclination to play the guitar.” That’s what someone said to me. “It’s going to require a staying power that I don’t think you have, so you know, try something else. Everybody’s got things they’re good at. You’re good at loads of stuff. Just not that.”

Before you even tried it, people told you that you weren’t good at it?

Yeah! But when you’re in your early 20s, you don’t realize how much you don’t know. You think you’re real smart, and you’re officially an adult, and you managed to not die. You’ve put yourself in some sketchy situations and not died! There is something to that. We weren’t activists trying to save the planet. We were drunk! So, yeah, you’re naïve and you’re trusting, I suppose. But the 20s are for that. That’s where you make all of your mistakes. That’s what the whole decade is for: “Whoops! Oh no!” Then you get to 29 and you realize it’s not sustainable. And you have what I like to affectionately term “The 29 Panic.” (laughs) You purge a lot of weirdos and try to get it together.

You’re going into 2022 with these Grammy nominations and you’re going to be in a movie next year, too. And you have more things in store, I’m sure. What are you enjoying the most about this time of your career?

I felt like over the first cycle, we were all learning how to do what we’re now doing. I like to convert people. I converted people on my team from adjacent trades that I knew would equip them exclusively for what I needed them to do. (laughs) So, I’ve got this absolute team of badasses and we’re able to go into situations that look impossible and nail it. We convert situations that are way outside of our price tag. Way outside of all sorts of things! It’s exciting to know that you can handle something and actually have a plan. It may be somewhat ridiculous, and we don’t know how we’re going to do it, and we definitely can’t afford it, but we’re going to get it over the line, you know? It’s that fight!

Photo Credit: Joseph Ross Smith

With an Acoustic “Bluebird,” Natalie Hemby Plays the Wild Card Up Her Sleeve

Posted on by Editor

Songwriter extraordinaire Natalie Hemby is drumming up interest in her debut record Pins and Needles with a slew of YouTube performances simply titled The Hemby Sessions. In these acoustic videos, the Nashville native is making her way through her impressive repertoire of original songs that have appeared on some big records from the likes of The Highwomen, Kacey Musgraves, and Lee Ann Womack, to name a few. In this fourth installment, Hemby offers “Bluebird,” a song about resilience and hope in the face of trying circumstances. “Bluebird” went on to be recorded by the inimitable Miranda Lambert (who co-wrote the song with Hemby and Luke Dick) and appears on her Grammy-winning album, Wildcard.

In Hemby’s straightforward, solo acoustic performance, the song’s poignant message takes on a new life. “Bluebird” is all about a mature sense of hope and optimism that doggedly persists even in the bleakest of situations. There is a gravity around the act of insistently finding light, and Hemby’s writing and performance capture that weight elegantly. Watch “Bluebird” below, and stay tuned at the end for a behind-the-scenes story from Hemby about writing the song.

Photo credit: Alysse Gafkjen

On “Radio Silence,” The Highwomen’s Natalie Hemby Lets Her Voice Be Heard

Posted on by Editor

Natalie Hemby’s new single “Radio Silence” puts her cunning sensibility as a songwriter on full display, while drawing on the strengths of co-writers Rosi Golan and Daniel Tashian. No slouches themselves, Golan is an accomplished songwriter whose music can be heard on countless TV shows and films, and Tashian is a writer and producer in Nashville with credits such as Kacey Musgraves’ Golden Hour.

With this dream team in support, Hemby’s weighty single encapsulates the anxiousness of being cut off from a friend — a true story that hits close to home. “This song is basically about being ghosted by a friend, only not because of a fallout, but because your friend doesn’t want to drag you into their struggles, so they shut down,” says Hemby. “I was the friend, and Rosi Golan was the one reaching out. We wrote the song with Daniel Tashian.”

An acclaimed writer and two-time Grammy Award winner, Hemby will releasing her first major label record as a solo artist, following her work with the Highwomen, the collaborative group with Brandi Carlile, Maren Morris, and Amanda Shires. “Radio Silence” and lead single “Heroes” precede Pins And Needles, an album that leans on her rock and roots musical influences, due out October 8 on Fantasy Records. “Pins And Needles is the record I never got the chance to make and I always wanted to,” she adds. “It’s the late 90’s sound, which is the sound of my young adult life.”

Photo credit: Alysse Gafkjen

Americana Honors & Awards: Black Pumas, The Highwomen Among Winners

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The Highwomen picked up three trophies for the Americana Music Association’s 19th Annual Americana Honors & Awards, which were revealed online today. The collective of Brandi Carlile, Natalie Hemby, Maren Morris, and Amanda Shires, joined fellow winners Black Pumas, Brittany Haas, and the late John Prine.

The Highwomen received the following awards: Album of the Year for their self-titled debut, produced by Dave Cobb; Song of the Year for “Crowded Table,” written by Carlile, Hemby and Lori McKenna; and Duo/Group of the Year.

Prine, who died in April, was named Artist of the Year for the fourth time since 2005. Black Pumas carried the Emerging Act of the Year category, while fiddler Brittany Haas won the Instrumentalist of the Year award.

For nearly two decades, the Americana Honors & Awards program has provided a unique platform for commemorating the best and brightest musicians in the Americana music scene at the historic Ryman Auditorium in Nashville. Due to the COVID-19 pandemic, in an effort to preserve the safety of musicians, fans and other members of the close-knit roots community, the Americana Music Association chose to forego having an in-person ceremony this year.

Photo of Black Pumas: Lyza Renee; Photo of The Highwomen: Alysse Gafkjen; Photo of John Prine: Danny Clinch; Photo of Brittany Hass: Michael George

LISTEN: Yola, “Hold On”

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Artist: Yola, with Brandi Carlile and Natalie Hemby on backing vocals, Sheryl Crow on piano, and Jason Isbell on guitar
Hometown: Bristol, England
Single: “Hold On”
Release Date: October 9, 2020

In Their Words: “‘Hold On’ is a conversation between me and the next generation of young black girls. My mother’s advice would always stress caution, that all that glitters isn’t gold, and that my black female role models on TV are probably having a hard time. She warned me that I should rethink my calling to be a writer and a singer…. but to me that was all the more reason I should take up this space. ‘Hold On’ is asking the next gen to take up space, to be visible and to show what it looks to be young, gifted and black.” — Yola

Editor’s Note: A portion of profits from sales of the track will be donated to MusicCares and National Bailout Collective.

Photo credit: Joseph Ross

By Defending Her Own Happiness, Joy Oladokun’s Determination Pays Off

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It was far from a given that Joy Oladokun would settle on her present path as a singer-songwriter of pensive folk-pop. She absorbed an array of musical models earlier in life — those that culturally linked her family to their Nigerian roots; reflected the rural pride of her peers in agriculture-rich Arizona; united her evangelical congregation in upward-aimed worship; and offered various styles of self-expression, emotional catharsis or social critique.

But on her texturally varied second album, in defense of my own happiness (vol. 1), much of which she self-produced, she sketches the distance between where she stands, sorting out her sources of pain, anxiety, and pleasure, and what she’s chosen to leave behind. Throughout, she’s exploring knotty interiority with warm yet watchful vulnerability. Oladokun paused her daily songwriting schedule to talk with BGS about how she made her way here.

BGS: After your parents immigrated to the U.S., did they maintain an attachment to traditional or contemporary Nigerian music and share it with you?

My parents came here in the ‘80s, so the Nigerian music they listened to growing up is definitely still a part of their everyday life today. I think one of my first introductions to the guitar was this Nigerian artist named King Sunny Adé, just these crazy, cascading, arpeggiated guitar riffs. They’re not as in touch with contemporary Nigerian music, but Nigeria had a pretty rich and interesting musical history.

You’ve said in past interviews that you grew up in an Arizona farming town that prized folk and country music. What role did that music actually play in community life?

There is not a music scene to speak of in Casa Grande, Arizona, that is for sure. My high school was big into Future Farmers of America. Lots of big trucks and dairy farms, that vibe is the vibe of my town. Some of the country I wasn’t very interested in, but I had a short fascination with ‘90s country. I mean, Martina McBride, Alan Jackson, Brooks & Dunn, it’s a lot, but in a good way. Everyone around me was listening to ‘90s country.

And my dad, for some reason, has an affinity for country-gospel music. He has all these records of Johnny Cash or Charley Pride, all these different people singing old country-gospel standards. So there’s this dusty, Southwestern country sound that I also grew up around that I think is the country that I gravitate to now, more than the big trucks and farms.

Along with hearing King Sunny Adé’s playing, you’ve said that seeing concert footage of Tracy Chapman with acoustic guitar in hand really caught your attention. What was it about those moments that moved you to pick up the instrument yourself?

I was always a really shy and reserved kid, and pretty smart, but had a hard time focusing or applying myself for long amounts of time. I think what I found in myself when I saw the guitar and decided to learn, and what my family saw in me, was a determination that hadn’t been applied to anything else ever.

I just know that the gift of self-expression that it’s given me has been pretty lifesaving. King Sunny Adé and Tracy Chapman, those are two very different expressions of how to use the guitar and how to make music, but they both took the inner workings of themselves and the world around them, and they expressed it through the music they made. I think that’s pretty dope and especially appealing to a kid who has a hard time talking.

Since you were so shy, how did you wind up playing music in front of a congregation?

If you wanted to get me to do anything as a kid, convince me that it would make God happy, or if I didn’t do it, God would be upset. That’s a pretty good motivator to any kid, but especially for me. I think I was so driven because I was so enmeshed in Christian culture. I was driven by this narrative of, “You need to do something big with your life and you can’t just spectate. You have to participate.” I honestly think had I been a little atheist in middle school, or had language been different, I maybe wouldn’t have ever done it or stepped on a stage. But I think it was the, “I feel this duty to use my gift for something bigger than myself.”

What did it take for you to leave behind what you thought might be a lasting career path in praise & worship music?

I often laugh at how much my adult life parallels my mother’s. Growing up, she would always tell this story about how her dad really wanted her to be a teacher. She spent a year or so teaching school and freaking hated it. So she became a nurse and she still does that to this day. I think I honored the thing that is spiritual in myself by working at a church and by falling in line and doing the thing for as long as I did. When I realized, “OK, I’m queer. There’s no getting around that. And I maybe don’t believe these things politically or theologically that I sometimes said on a day-to-day basis.”

I just got to a place where it became more important for me to live a life of integrity on all fronts than to keep up appearances or do what I thought God or my parents or my old boss wanted me to do. When I left, I made the decision pretty much on my own. And in circles like that, that is a no-no. I think the reason I did step into it by myself, though, is because I have to live this life. I would rather pursue something that feels more authentic to me. And once that decision was made, then the career decision was easy. I honestly tie it back to hearing my mom every day since I was born tell the story of how she made that decision for herself.

These days you’re signed to the Nashville office of a publishing company, operating in a world with its own customs and practices when it comes to being creative and collaborative. How’d you adjust to things like co-writing?

I honestly don’t think the worlds are that different, or maybe just people are the same. I do write a considerable amount by myself, so co-writing was maybe the biggest leap that I’ve made into discomfort. To me, even if I have a bad session, there is something that can be learned or gleaned or laughed about from it. If someone has a bad ego during a write it’s, “OK, I’m not going to work with that person again.”

You chose a loaded title for this album, in defense of my own happiness (vol. 1). What were you getting at?

Every time I post something on Instagram or Twitter or Facebook that someone from my past dislikes, I hear about it. I didn’t realize that that was a strange practice until I was talking to my girlfriend. She was like, “That’s so bizarre that people you worked with five years ago still feel the need to tell you that they’re disappointed in you, or say that they’re praying that you’ll become straight again one day.”

It is the source of a lot of my anxiety, to be honest. I don’t regret anything that I am or anything that I’m doing, but there’s this part of me that wants to defend that who I am is good. So many of the songs we ended up picking for the album speak to that. I think the idea of in defense of my own happiness is, it’s maybe an open letter to all these people.

Also it’s a letter to myself saying, “You deserve this life. You deserve to have a girlfriend who loves you and live in a beautiful house, and you deserve to be working a job that you enjoy. You’ve made mistakes, but none of that disqualifies you from what you found.” The album is literally just, “Please let me live.”

As much as I hear you insisting on your right to happiness on the album, I can also hear you sitting with your melancholy, and not hurrying past it.

I don’t know that there’s any other way to actually be happy or healthy without acknowledging how you’ve been hurt in the past, who you’ve hurt in the past, acknowledging the things that you don’t understand or the things that scare you, and sitting with them. I’ve been doing a lot of meditation, because it’s 2020 and the world’s on fire. I was reading a quote about how emotions and our thoughts, we should entertain them as friends, as opposed to treating them as these things that we can’t control. I do feel like melancholy is like a friend that I entertained on this record.

That definitely applies to your song “Who Do I Turn To?” Tell me about the choice you made to phrase the chorus as one long, uncomfortable, unresolved question.

I credit the open-endedness of it to Natalie Hemby, who I wrote the song with. I am a big fan of open-ended things, but I think I wanted an answer. I wanted to write a protest song. I think Natalie could see in my face just the heaviness and the sadness. I was, like, four months old when the LA riots happened, and the fact that we’re still marching for the same thing in 2020 is so bizarre. It’s so heartbreaking. Black people have been showing up for themselves from the beginning of time, countless Civil Rights leaders and movements.

Even to this day, you can point to people like Angela Davis that are alive and doing the work. But we are a minority group, so we cannot be the only people doing the work to protect and honor our lives, especially in this climate. It became open-ended because it’s like, “You keep saying that it’s not your fault, but you let your grandpa make racist remarks while I’m at dinner.” There’s all these little actions and behaviors that play into it. Leaving it open-ended just allows people to think and reflect.

Photo credit: Shannon Beveridge