Kyshona on 50 Years of ‘Rags To Rufus’

(Editor’s Note: 50 years ago this month, Rufus released what would become a seminal album in American roots music, soul, and funk, Rags To Rufus, which featured Chaka Khan. To mark the 50th anniversary of this iconic recording, singer-songwriter Kyshona ponders the personal meanings of the project and how it relates to her own brand new album, Legacy.)

My mother is battling dementia, so car rides with her are the perfect time to play music from her younger years, when she was carefree, childless, and she and my Dad hosted an abundance of house parties for their friends and family. I have a playlist of songs from the late ‘60s and ‘70s I’ll put on when we’re shuttling her between doctors’ appointments.

On one of these car rides, I turned on Rags To Rufus. My mom was in the passenger seat, playing “brain games” on her phone to, in her words, “Exercise her mind and hold on to what she’s got.” I noticed she was singing, under her breath, the melodies and choruses of the first three tracks on the album. She turned to me and said, “I’ve never heard this before, who is this? I like it!” This got me thinking beyond personal family legacy and more about musical legacy.

This year marks the 50th anniversary of Rags To Rufus, the album that transformed the trajectory of funk band Rufus and propelled Chaka Khan into the spotlight. Chaka Khan’s music is a soundtrack that has woven itself into the fabric of not only my work as an artist, but also into my personal life.

There is an expectation to conform, to try to categorize and compartmentalize music; I can’t imagine enduring the pressure from the industry, and even society as a whole, as it was nearly a half a century ago, artists and bands trying to squeeze themselves into arbitrary molds. To my ears, Rags To Rufus is the sound of a group of friends hanging out and having a good time – there is a sense of celebration, camaraderie, a sonic journey of Black joy. It feels like an album made for the thrill of being creative, for the sake of unbridled artistic freedom. I have always wanted my music to feel like this, telling stories, playing around with sounds and ideas. When I’m creating, that’s my goal. I write in the style that serves the story that I’m telling, without regard to genre constraints or others’ expectations.

The record begins with empowered swagger and affirmation – “You Got The Love,” which I interpret as, “You belong here.” The sentiment is carried through in “Walkin’ In The Sun,” a song that brings a comforting sense of nostalgia. I can hear my “aunties” in the hook: “Even a blind man can tell when he’s walking in the sun.”

The title track is a funked-out jam session, and then the band brings out old-time fervor in “Swing Down Chariot.”

Think about it – Rufus takes an old gospel song, adds Chaka Khan’s powerhouse vocals, blends it with blues, jazz, funk, soul, and takes it to an entirely new dimension! Forget genre, industry rules, or album cycles. Back in the day, it was just music that made you feel good, it was about that vibe.

As a music therapist, I recognize the profound impact music has on those grappling with conditions like Alzheimer’s and dementia – it encourages lucidity and presence of self. As a daughter, I see how music bonds me to my mother.

In the past, when I’ve done music therapy in nursing home settings, I’ve used songs from the early 20th century – like “Let Me Call You Sweetheart,” “Heart And Soul,” and “Sentimental Journey.” But now, the memory care songs I reach for are songs I grew up listening to in our house, at family reunions, on road trips. How fantastic is it that Chaka Khan’s work throughout her 50-year career can provide a generation-spanning conduit for a mother and a daughter to connect? We can experience that freedom in her sound as we listen together, regardless of the chaos happening around us.

I can’t begin to put into words how much I admire Chaka Khan; with my new album, Legacy, I tell the stories of my ancestors and my family. Chaka Khan’s legacy is intertwined with generations of music-makers.

Over the last 50 years, Khan has been a major influence on pop artists like Whitney Houston, R&B artists like Erykah Badu and Mary J. Blige, and on myself – and so many of my peers in the roots and folk scenes. I learned of her musical magic as a child, listening to my parents’ favorite radio stations, so being able to sing backing vocals for her at Newport Folk Festival a few years ago was absolutely surreal. I can’t imagine the journey she’s been on, but I hope she knows that her existence alone encourages artists like me to keep on being true to ourselves and our art.

Rags To Rufus is a part of my journey. For me, it’s the sound of “blackness.” I hope that 50 years from now, someone will listen to the music of myself and my peers and hear that same resonance of joy, love, and celebration of culture.

We all dream to leave a lasting musical legacy as deep and profound as Chaka Khan and Rufus.


Photo Credit: Anna Haas

Mental Health, Healing, and Redemption Flow From Becky Buller’s ‘Jubilee’

With her work as a songwriter and as a sidewoman, Becky Buller made a name for herself long before she became a bandleader. In 2015, after becoming a mother, she realized the need to control her own schedule and reluctantly began a touring career under her own name. But for someone more comfortable outside of the spotlight, the pressure and stress of leading her own project took its toll and in 2020 Buller found herself in a mental health crisis.

Her new album, Jubilee (available May 17), chronicles her journey through depression in the form of a song cycle including instrumental interludes. This project was initially commissioned by the FreshGrass Foundation and was recorded almost entirely live with Buller’s band. The music is beautiful and vulnerable – and the group’s chemistry and musicianship shine.

In a BGS interview, Buller opens up about what triggered her mental health breakdown, about the stigma around mental health care, and how she found her way out of the dark through medication, songwriting, therapy, and prayer.

This album was commissioned as a long form composition by the FreshGrass Foundation for debut at their 2023 Bentonville, Arkansas festival. How was your experience as a writer working in a song cycle/conceptual format, versus previous songs and albums that you’ve written?

Becky Buller: I almost always follow the muse where she leads. Having an assignment generally tends to squelch my creativity. I’m so grateful to the FreshGrass Foundation for commissioning me to write this piece, but I’ll admit, after I hung up the phone last fall, I did panic a little bit. But once I settled on the topic for the cycle and decided that the previously unreleased song, “Jubilee” (co-written with Aoife O’Donovan), would be the seed I would plant and water to cultivate the entire project, the rest of the music came to me pretty quickly.

Tell me about your connection with Aoife – how did that come about, and where did it lead the project?

She and I were talking at the 2019 Newport Folk Festival about writing together at some point. She was there touring with I’m With Her, and I was there with the First Ladies of Bluegrass as part of a historic all-female Saturday night headliner set curated by Brandi Carlile, which included folks like Yola, Sheryl Crow, Linda Perry, and Dolly Parton.

Once I got back home, I ended up sending Aoife the first stanza of “Jubilee” and she said the idea of needing a rest resonated with her. We started writing “Jubilee” just before the pandemic shutdown, finishing it in December. Ironic that we were singing about needing a rest… and then we got one! [Laughs]

[Laughs] You manifested it! But the rest for you – it didn’t really help? From your bio it seems like it caused a crumbling of sorts?

No, I don’t know how to rest.

I’m the same. I find that when I have time to think it can be very confronting.

That totally resonates with me, it exposed all the cracks in my foundation.

I was really interested in the line, “She’s been told that she’s absurd,” as a potential crack in the foundation – the idea of the separation between an artist and a human. That one could feel respected as a musician, but not as a person… where is that line coming from for you?

Or not respected as either…

We all have so many voices and opinions whirling around us. Some louder than others. Some speak honey, some poison. Unfortunately, and more often than not, I tend to fall victim to the poison, trying my best to get others to change their opinion of me. Fruitless, I know.

So you’re speaking about personal and professional critics who you feel don’t respect you and your art, that type of chatter, seeing negative feedback or commentary?

I’ve always been more comfortable in the background.

Interesting! So how did you end up leading a band?

I was terrified of leading a band! There were folks that got mad at me, because I wouldn’t start my own band. I didn’t know how I would fund it. I definitely didn’t think I could handle the stress.

What made you decide to do it in the end?

I was a side person for the first half of my professional career. Wrote a lot of songs cut by colleagues and heroes in the bluegrass industry. In 2011, I took a break from the road. In 2012, Jeff and I were expecting [our daughter] Romy. That fall, I joined up with Darin & Brooke Aldridge’s band and toured with them for two seasons… We had our baby girl in March 2013.

I recorded a solo record, my first in 10 tears and my first with Dark Shaddow Recording. It officially came out October of 2014. By that point, Romy had started walking and Jeff and I determined that I needed to be able to create my own schedule. I was under contract to the label to sell a record, so I needed shows…

So I gave my notice to Darin & Brooke, held my nose, and walked out on the water. I’ve had my own band since 2015.

When I started the band, I also started going to a Christian counselor. I knew the stress of running a band would be too much for me… it helps. It helped untie all sorts of knots in my brain. Even after all of these years, I will wind up in situations where I feel myself leaning in a certain negative way and I’m so grateful when I catch myself and say, “No, I don’t have to think that way anymore.” But the counseling wasn’t enough when the world shut down.

I totally understand what you’re saying about the schedule. It’s so interesting how being a mother in some ways necessitates being a band leader rather than a hired gun on tour. It’s something I think about a lot, because you need control. But also, man, that’s a lot to take on at once!

It is. And I’m so grateful for a tight community of touring mamas who get it. My folks are working on moving to Tennessee, but up ‘til now, they’ve been in Minnesota and unable to help us much. I’m so grateful for the beautiful Tennessee family God planted me in. We also have the best neighbors and church family. I couldn’t do what I do without their love and support.

I wanted to thank you for your openness about mental health on this record. I saw in the liner notes that you said medication has been a really helpful part of your healing. I also take medication for mental health and I feel there’s a lot of stigma around it. Often on the road, I’m surrounded by folks self-medicating with drugs and alcohol who are afraid to take prescribed medication for their mental health issues. How has medication helped for you?

The culture I grew up in was very against prescription medication for mental health. More faith and prayer and less self-pity, that was supposed to take care of things. I’m like the fellow in the Gospel of Mark who fell at Jesus’s feet, crying out “I do believe, help my unbelief!”

Like you, I’ve also been around a lot of musicians who are self-medicating with drugs and alcohol. I never want to wake up not knowing where I’ve been, etc. For these reasons, I was afraid to take medication.

But in mid-2020, I literally felt something in my brain pop. I couldn’t make complete sentences. I couldn’t write my own name correctly. I needed the medicine to help me begin climbing out of the hole I was in.

My doctor is also a musician and understood where I was at. He told me to give him a year and we’d get it sorted out. And he was right. In the late summer of 2021, when we found a medicine that I responded to, it felt as if a cinder block was lifted off of my head. I know getting to debut at the Grand Ole Opry on September 3, 2021, was also a huge validation, and part of my healing journey.

Thanks so much for sharing all of this, Becky! You’ve made a beautiful record and one that I think will help a lot of people feel less alone in facing their own mental health journey.


Photo Credit: Shayna Cooley

WATCH: The Earls of Leicester Behind the Walls at Newport Folk Festival

(Editor’s Note: Enjoy this exclusive video premiere from the team at Newport Folk Festival and their Behind the Walls series, featuring a performance of Flatt & Scruggs’ version of “Rollin’ in My Sweet Baby’s Arms” by award-winning Flatt & Scruggs bluegrass tribute band, the Earls of Leicester.)

Artist: The Earls of Leicester
Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee
Song: “Rollin’ in My Sweet Baby’s Arms”

In Their Words: “The song ‘Rollin’ in My Sweet Baby’s Arms’ has long been a staple in the bluegrass canon. It’s a good, hard driving song about traveling and returning home to the one you love. Down to the details of some of the family members’ occupations. Also there is a slight Romeo and Juliet effect in the line, “I know your parents don’t like me.” Flatt & Scruggs probably had the best version, but it’s a crowd pleaser and works in any situation.” – Jerry Douglas

“The Earls Of Leicester are living embodiments of the traditions of bluegrass that have graced our stages for over 60 years. We’re grateful that they recorded a backstage Behind The Walls session with us at last year’s Newport Folk Festival. And big thanks to The Bluegrass Situation for sharing it far and wide.” – Christopher Capotosto, producer, Newport Folk Festival


Lead image courtesy of Newport Folk Festival.

BGS Top 50 Moments: Newport Folk Festival

Dylan going electric in 1965. Lomax making his historic archive recordings in 1966. Joni taking the stage after 50-something years in 2022. Newport Folk is a festival full of milestone moments and lots of surprises. And for a brief moment in time in 2014, BGS was a small part of Newport Folk Fest’s long and storied history too, when we presented our Bluegrass Situation Workshop Stage inside the intimate Whaling Museum building on Sunday at the Fort.

Amidst a festival lineup that included such stalwarts as Nickel Creek, Trampled by Turtles, Dawes, Valerie June, Hozier, Jack White, and Mavis Staples, the BGS crew – helmed by co-founder Ed Helms and his Lonesome Trio bandmates Ian Riggs and Jake Tilove – hosted a few “up and coming” acts we were very excited about, singing songs about significant “firsts” in their lives. Some of those young whippersnappers you might have heard of, like Shakey Graves (joined by Chris Funk of the Decemberists and Langhorne Slim), Aoife O’Donovan, Wilie Watson (with special guest Sean Watkins), and Watchhouse (who were still going by Mandolin Orange at the time), which marked Andrew and Emily’s very first – but certainly not last – appearance at Newport.

That big “first” for us was significant – to be welcomed into the “Folk” Family and made to feel like we were all part of something big and wonderful. And it’s that feeling that’s brought us back to the Fort year after year ever since.


Photos by Samara Vise

In a Legendary Moment, Joni Mitchell Returns to Newport Folk Festival

Newport Folk has long been a place where legendary moments are formed. The festival achieved yet another moment in its storied history last weekend when Joni Mitchell joined Brandi Carlile during the festival’s closing jam, marking the iconic songwriter’s first return to the festival in over half a century and first public live performance in decades. Brandi & Co. gave us a moment we all needed. Hearing Joni’s words and calming, dulcet tones was a balm for an uncertain society; a collective pause for us to reflect on time and its passing, and how different the world looks since the last time Joni played this stage.

We’ve rounded up a collection of the best videos around the internet from Joni’s historic set so that even if you weren’t there, you can take that joy in from every angle.

Brandi Introduces Joni

Questlove caught much of Brandi’s introductory speech building the excitement for the Joni Jam – and a bit of electric uncertainty among the crowd whether or not the guest of honor would actually be in attendance – as well as the first two numbers (“Carey” and “Come in From the Cold”) up close and personal.

 

 

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But it’s wholly worth watching Brandi’s speech in its entirety, as she acknowledges the power of congregation and radical love. “To power structures, folk music is — and always has been — utterly fucking destructive… It’s a truth teller and a power killer.”


“Both Sides Now”


“Big Yellow Taxi”


Joni’s Grand Entrance

 

 

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“Just Like This Train”

Joni and her electric guitar graced us with this Court and Spark beauty after a word of encouragement from Brandi Carlile: “Kick ass, Joni Mitchell!”


“The Circle Game”


“Summertime”


“A Case of You”

 

 

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An Interview with Joni & More Onstage Moments

 

 

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Cover photo by Newport Folk Festival

BGS 5+5: River Whyless

Artist: River Whyless
Hometown: Asheville, North Carolina
Latest Album: Monoflora

All answers by Ryan O’Keefe

What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?

Being the son of some hippies, and growing up in the woods of Maine, the folk singers from the ’60s and ’70s were pretty much on constant rotation in my house. Mitchell, Dylan, Baez, Collins and many more filled the space between the cedar walls of the small cabin my folks built. Though the calluses on my mothers fingers had long since softened, she still strummed the tunes of her youth on the Ibanez she had carried around Australia with her from 1971 to 1973. So it was one of the great pleasures of my life to place the call to my parents, letting them know that we would indeed be playing at the Newport Folk Festival. Elated, we got them tickets and set up a weekend for them to come down and watch their son on the very stage that had influenced so much of their lives.

We played an early set. An unknown band, brought in from North Carolina to perform at the fort and no idea if anyone was going to show up. They did. The most eager, dedicated crowd we’ve ever performed for. Thousands packed inside and outside of the tent that cradled the stage. We performed in a blur and time floated by and we just kinda let ourselves get swept downstream. It all ended with an encore, a standing crowd and us lingering on the stage that had given us so much life in such a short period of time. When we finally did walk off, Jay (the director of the festival) clapped us on the back and said welcome to the family. It struck me that that family I was now a part of included the artists who made those very records that I grew up listening to in the quilted cabin in Maine.

Since food and music go so well together, what is your dream pairing of a meal and a musician?

During the pandemic, when all our tours were canceled, I teamed up with my good friend Israel, and we started making elaborate meals cooked strictly outdoors. I suppose at the time we wanted to get our friends together in a safe way and so this was our solution. The first meal was cochinita pibil, a Yucatan classic of slow-cooked pork shoulder wrapped in banana leaves cooked in a pit in the ground. Next, Justin Ringle from the band Horse Feathers, came into town and we reconfigured the pibil pit to make jerk chicken. The most recent dinner was a stew cooked in a five-gallon cauldron over an open flame. Music has always been around, of course, and Israel plays the uilleann pipes so I have been trying my hand at some traditional Irish guitar. We stumble our way through a couple jigs and reels but anything sounds good when you’re cooking five gallons of stew in a cauldron, outside, with your friends.

What was the first moment that you knew you wanted to be a musician?

I was a late bloomer musically. I really didn’t start playing guitar until I met Alex, our drummer, in college at Appalachian State University. He sparked my true musical awakening and, in his dorm room, we devoured angsty indie rock and pop records from the early 2000s. Bright Eyes, Mates of State, The Decemberists. I wanted to learn the songs so Alex and I could play music together. I picked up guitar but was awful at learning covers so I just started writing my own songs. I think shortly after that I realized that writing music, in particular, was my calling. I didn’t know if I’d be any good, but I knew that I lost myself in the craft. And that’s all I can ask for.

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

Songs generally come out of the blue. At least the good ones. I have hundreds of pieces of songs saved in voice memos that have long since been forgotten. I think a lot of them have potential but the moment has been lost. For me, it’s imperative that I stop everything and just work on a song when it “comes.” That first session with a new idea is the most important time for the life of a song. With all that being said, I don’t follow my own advice nearly enough. I get distracted, or have some other obligation, which happens more and more the older I get. But there are songs, just pieces that just continue to nag at me and refuse to sink quietly into the depths of my phone. The song “Oil Skin” off our new album comes to mind. The first line, “When I was a child my mother would bathe me in the sink, pull the oil from my skin” has been kicking around my head for years. We tried to make a song of it on We All the Light and then again on Kindness a Rebel. But it wasn’t until we sat down to write Monoflora that the song finally found a home. I think it was Dan who suggested that we switch the groove from a waltz to a straight 4/4 beat. We left the vocal melody resembling the original waltz and that was the key. It has a subtle trippy cadence that I wouldn’t have naturally thought of. It still took some work but we had unlocked the door and stepped inside.

Which elements of nature do you spend the most time with and how do those impact your work?

I live in the woods. I spend most of my time at my house with my wife and daughter. The only neighbor I can see is Alex, our drummer. So the North Carolina mountains are everything to me at this point. They are so infused in my life that I can’t separate myself from them at all. I hike everyday on old logging roads out back of my house with my daughter on my back and my dog at my side. Often I take it for granted. I try not to, but it’s inevitable. It influences every part of my writing because it influences every part of me.


Photo Credit: Molly Milroy

Andrew Marlin Reveals the Observations and Explorations Behind ‘Watchhouse’

When you’re the child of musicians, you get to see the world. By the time Andrew Marlin and Emily Frantz’s daughter Ruby was one year old, she had been to 34 US states and nine different countries. “She was on a bus when she was three months old,” says Marlin. “She loves traveling.”

After a year of hiatus, the family of three is back on the road again as the duo formerly known as Mandolin Orange tour their new self-titled album, Watchhouse. And Ruby, now a toddler, has transitioned back to road life more smoothly than her father, who admits he’s still “struggling to find my sea legs.”

But then this has an unarguably big summer. Performing as Watchhouse, after more than a decade as Mandolin Orange, was no small change. A year of lockdown had given the couple space to reflect on a name change that they’d wanted for a while, but resisted, concerned at how any reinvention would affect their devoted following.

Their latest project proves that their fans have nothing to fear: a medley of richly intimate songs and beautiful vocal harmonies that’s as identifiably them as anything they’ve ever made. Marlin, who writes the songs and plays mandolin to Frantz’s acoustic guitar, spoke to BGS about the new album from their North Carolina home, where they were enjoying a short pause between gigs.

BGS: Your current tour’s taking you coast to coast, from the Newport Folk Festival in Rhode Island to Redmond, Washington and all points between…

Marlin: It’s all over the map, literally. We’re out for three or four days at a time and I’m enjoying being back on tour but it’s kind of difficult to get in the groove. After we’ve been moving at a snail’s pace at home this past year, this all feels so fast-paced, so much to keep up with!

How do you feel about touring in this age of COVID. Does it feel safe yet?

I was one of the naive ones who thought we were nearly done with this thing, but we’re really not. There is a vaccine but people just aren’t taking it. So no, I don’t feel safe at all. But it’s a balancing act: we need to make money because we haven’t worked in 18 months, and we want to play shows, because that’s what we’re driven to do. Everybody wants to get back to their lives, everybody needs purpose to stay sane. To feel like there’s a reason to get up in the morning.

Was a year of lockdown hard as a new parent?

It’s all relative. Emily and I travel so much that we wouldn’t have spent so much time home as full-time parents otherwise. Eighteen months ago you would have been talking to a different person, but now I just try to live day to day, and write a little here and there. It was really difficult to write at the beginning of the pandemic, though. As a songwriter I try to latch onto things that not many people are writing about and with so many people thinking about the same thing it was hard to separate myself from it and find a way to write about it that didn’t seem unoriginal. I wrote a lot of instrumentals so I could explore how I was feeling without having to put it in words.

Have you discovered some good tunes for getting Ruby to sleep?

Pretty much anything by Paul Brady. She loves him, especially that album he did with Andy Irvine. I put that on and she’ll start talking to Paul and Andy. And because she’s been around our music since she was in the womb, if I sit down and play mandolin very quietly that’ll chill her out. I’ll sit in her room and play and she’ll doze off.

There are a lot of songs sung from a parent’s viewpoint on this new album: “Upside Down,” “New Star,” and “Lonely Love Affair.” Has becoming a father changed your perspective as a songwriter?

Passively, yes. I think the change is that I would love to help pave a safe path for my daughter and hopefully inspire some of our listeners to be kind and open up a kind world for her to go into. And that’s made my its way into my perspective even in songs where I’m not talking about it.

That’s very much the message of “Better Way,” which is about online trolling. Was that inspired by a specific incident?

A number of incidents. It isn’t unique. Every time somebody puts themselves out there on social media you have the people who love to drum up negative energy. And I can’t wrap my head around it because that’s not how I was brought up. I rarely meet people who would do that when they’re talking to you face to face. So I don’t understand why those people feel compelled to sit at their computer or pick up their phone and try to rip others apart. It’s a weird way to live.

Emily says it’s one of the favorite tracks you’ve ever laid down together.

Yeah, I love the sound of that tune. It’s a gentle drive to it, the way the groove is so set. It has this steady pulse that fits with the whole idea of the tune, this nagging thing in the back of my head: why do people feel compelled to be such assholes?

These songs were recorded all the way back in February 2020. Where did you decide to record them?

We did it right outside of Roanoke, Virginia. It’s not quite in the mountains, but it was in the hills for sure, a very peaceful place on a lake. I like making records in places that aren’t studios. It feels a little more free, to just go sit in a living room and to turn that space into a very positive musical environment is way more appealing to me than a studio where you’re watching the clock and every time you hear it tick that signifies a certain amount of money. I think you feel that relaxed energy. There’s no trying to beat the clock on this record. It’s exploring all the directions we could go as a band.

The sound of the album is certainly more exploratory than previous ones — a little richer in texture, a little less acoustic, even a touch psychedelic at times…

There are a lot of sounds we’ve used in the past but on this one we didn’t try to hide them. In the past we’ve tried to keep the simplicity of what Emily and I do in the forefront and have all these light textures around that. I think of it as a mountain peak. We’d be up at the top singing our songs and beneath us is this luscious forest, a lot of organ songs, electric guitar, drums, bass. Well, on this record we brought all the sounds up to the same level.

We’d been touring with many of these musicians since 2016 and so we were already thinking about arrangements that worked for the band and it’s a good representation of what we can do live, as a unit. A lot of people think of Emily and I as a folk duo but we have a lot of music in us! It felt nice to change the name and feel we can do whatever we want to and not limit ourselves to any idea of who people think we are.

The new name, Watchhouse, seems to be a good choice to reflect the observational world of your songwriting.

One of the most important things you can do as an artist is observe the world around you and I’ve always sought out those little peaceful places I can let my mind wander. I don’t do well in chaotic situations. I’m not the one to be right up the front by the stage in a show. I’ll usually go hang out in a corner and close my eyes and listen. I just like to find those places wherever we are, whether we’re on tour, in our neighborhood, or at home.

It makes you sound like a pretty chilled person to live with.

I play music a lot, so if you don’t like to hear constant music then probably not… in lockdown there was a lot of noodling, a lot of searching. A lot of aggression being taken out on an instrument too.

Fair point, I can see Emily needing an occasional break from that.

Oh yeah, all the time! She’d send me out of the room, or she’d go out herself…

You’ve been in a band together for 12 years, and all that time you’ve been a couple too. How do you manage to spend so much time together without driving each other crazy?

We’ve talked about that sometimes, especially with Emily’s parents. They can’t seem to wrap their head around it. I guess we just like each other!

One song on the album that seems especially raw is “Belly of the Beast.” Can you tell me the inspiration behind that?

I wrote that tune after Jeff Austin committed suicide. I didn’t know him super well, but we had a lot of mutual friends and had crossed paths through the years and it woke me up in a scary way. Being a full-time musician you have to continually find new ways to stay relevant and interesting to people, and you have to deal with real bouts of anxiety and self-consciousness. Is this good enough? Am I good enough? Writing and playing is something I’m extremely driven to do for myself, but I also have to do it for others, and I throw my music out in the world to be judged by other people. It’s a weird process that I’ve found is extremely helped by therapy!

So is that what performing is for you: “Hiding from the monsters in the belly of the beast”?

Yes — I love that line. When people talk about being nervous to perform, for me it’s not wondering whether I’m able to perform well, it’s more that when I step out on stage I don’t know what that crowd’s energy is going to be, how receptive they’re going to be. Are these people going to allow me to be myself tonight or am I going to have to put on a hat? For the most part our fans are really receptive and I can be myself. That’s when it feels like things are right.

“Beautiful Flowers” is one of the more cryptic songs on the album. It starts with a tiny flash of color and ends with some powerful images about the climate crisis. How did you get from one to the other?

I hit a butterfly when I was driving down the road and it really bummed me out. Animals have no ideas what cars are. For something to come out of nowhere at 70 miles per hour has got to be the weirdest thing in the world. And that got me thinking about who had made the first car, and it turned out it was this guy, Karl Benz. And when he made this car he had no idea where it was going to lead and how terrible it was going to be for the environment.

For our own convenience we destroy a lot of this world and don’t give a lot back as humans. And my car hitting that butterfly felt like a really strong metaphor for what we’re doing to the earth. It’s a very delicate ecosystem and we’re killing all its intricate little working parts.

Is that a challenge for you, too, with your own carbon footprint as a touring musician?

Our carbon footprint is massive, riding on buses and planes and cars… going to a festival and them using generators to supply all the power. We all see all the problems but how to step outside of your own daily needs and confront them is the conundrum, and I’m as guilty as anyone. How do you inconvenience yourself to make positive change in this world? We’re asking ourselves that right now in terms of racism, climate change, housing inequality, you name it.

Given how personal the songs are, and the fact they’re drawn from your shared life, do you ask for Emily’s input or approval as you’re writing them?

No, not really. The way I write I’ll take a specific idea and continue to break it apart until it’s more universal. I don’t want to reveal too much of myself in any given tune. I’m not laying out a bullet point retelling of my life, just musing on how I felt in a given situation — or maybe how Emily felt, or maybe a friend of ours. In fact sometimes I’ll play a new song for Emily and I’ll tell her what it’s about and she’ll say, “Huh, I thought it was about this.” And you know what? She’s not wrong.


Watchhouse is coming to the Theatre at the Ace Hotel in Los Angeles on Saturday, February 19th 2022 – grab your tickets here.

Photo credit: Shervin Lainez

BGS 5+5: Alison Brown

Artist: Alison Brown
Hometown: La Jolla, California
Latest album: The Song of the Banjo
Personal nicknames (or rejected band names): Mom (currently trending)

From the Artist: “‘Here Comes the Sun’ is a song I’ve loved for years. But I never thought about playing it on the banjo until I was inspired by stories of hospitals playing it over their PA systems to encourage staff and patients in their battle against COVID. As I started working on it I realized that the tune has a lot in common rhythmically and harmonically with ‘Águas de Março’ (‘Waters of March’), a Tom Jobim classic that’s one of my favorite melodies and recordings. So I put the two together and came up with this mash-up — setting the low banjo against a tapestry of piano and jazz flute.” — Alison Brown


What was the first moment that you knew you wanted to be a musician?

I didn’t become a musician in one lightning rod moment. It was really more a series of baby steps. When I was really getting into the banjo in the late ’70s there weren’t a lot of successful role models that pointed the way to how you could make a career as an instrumentalist. As much as I loved playing the banjo I really thought it would be a hobby that I would talk about at cocktail parties in my real life as a doctor, lawyer, or another respectable white collar professional. As it happened, I had to spend several years as an investment banker before I got up the nerve to try being a banjo player.

What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?

I have so many great memories it’s hard to pick just one. Collaborating with a skratji band on stage at the Opera House in Paramaribo, Suriname, during a State Department tour is one that has stayed with me. Guesting on Brandi Carlile’s collaboration set with the First Ladies of Bluegrass at the Newport Folk Festival last summer with Dolly Parton singing “9 to 5” is definitely another. Playing on the Banjo Stage at Hardly Strictly Bluegrass in front of a crowd that reaches all the way down Speedway Meadows never fails to blow me away and is one that always validates my decision to leave my investment banking job in San Francisco’s financial district to play the banjo.

If you had to write a mission statement for your career, what would it be?

Since launching Compass Records 25 years ago, my career has had two parallel tracks: one as an artist and the other as the co-founder of a roots-based indie label. When Garry West and I started the label in 1995, literally at the kitchen table, we felt there was a keen need in the market for a record company that was run by musicians. We were driven by the idea that our perspective gained from years of touring would position Compass uniquely in the market. Our goal was to create an artist friendly home for other artists; at the time I was halfway into a multi-album contract with Vanguard Records. Garry and I were, and are still, extremely passionate about discovering new artists and helping to bring their music to a wider audience.

Over the past two and a half decades, we’ve had a chance to help further the careers of an amazing roster of artists across the roots music spectrum and also have had the privilege of carrying the torch forward for some great label imprints through catalog acquisitions. One thing that I didn’t really anticipate when we started Compass was how running a label would inform my own creativity as an artist and producer. Knowing the challenges in the market has been very much of a double-edged sword: sometimes it makes it difficult to get motivated to create new music but, at the end of the day, having a handle on current challenges and opportunities on the business side has made it more natural for me to create music with specific target results in mind.

What rituals do you have, either in the studio or before a show?

For me, studio = food:) When I’m producing, or leading a session, I like to arrive with warm scones or banana bread to start the morning and then make sure there’s a kitchen full of interesting snacks on hand throughout the day. I know it’s not great for the waistline, but for me it adds to the fun of the creative process. I’m also a fan of having slow TV, sound off, running on the monitor in the control room. When I was producing Special Consensus’ record Chicago Barn Dance, we had a Norwegian winter train journey from Oslo to Bergen on a loop while we worked and it complemented our musical journey in a perfect way.

Since food and music go so well together, what is your dream pairing of a meal and a musician?

Hmmm, perhaps not your typical banjo player’s dream, but how about a simple dinner with Tom Jobim on a garden terrace in La Jolla, California, overlooking the Cove and a menu that includes Jacques Pepin’s roast chicken, haricots verts, and a bottle of Cakebread Chardonnay?


Photo credit: Stacie Huckeba.
“Here Comes the Sun” credits: Low Banjo: Alison Brown; Piano: Chris Walters; Flute: John Ragusa; Bass: Garry West; Drums and Percussion: Jordan Perlson

LISTEN: Newport Folk Festival Opens Bluegrass Archive for Saturday Stream

Where do you begin to talk about bluegrass at Newport Folk Festival? And how do you capture 60 years of musical magic in just one show? The curators of the festival’s archive have taken a very cool approach, pulling out musical highlights from their first decade as well their most recent decade for the upcoming Burnin’ & Pickin’ Bluegrass set.

The 90-minute show — featuring some recordings that have never before been released — will stream during the festival’s Revival Weekend on Saturday, August 1, starting at 1:37 pm ET. The list of performers on the show has not yet been announced, but considering the breadth of talent that the festival has hosted, you might hear iconic figures like Roy Acuff, Bill Monroe, and Doc Watson, or a new generation that includes Carolina Chocolate Drops, Old Crow Medicine Show, or Gillian Welch & David Rawlings. Legendary artists like Joan Baez, Johnny Cash, and Elizabeth Cotten could potentially show up on the set list, too.

One thing we do know: The Burnin’ & Pickin’ Bluegrass set will include this previously unreleased recording of Ralph Stanley and Ray Cline’s “Sally Goodin'” from 1968.

To honor the festival’s incredible heritage, please consider a donation to Newport Festivals Foundation, which in the last year has provided financial relief to over 400 musicians impacted by the pandemic and over 100 grants for music education programs across the country.

Billy Glassner, archivist for Newport Folk Fest, tells BGS, “Bluegrass has always been an important ingredient in the Newport Folk magic. From its first year in 1959 when Earl Scruggs brought the Cumberland Gap to the shores of the Narragansett Bay up through last years’ collaboration between Billy Strings and Molly Tuttle, that high lonesome sound has been a constant companion to the Newport Folk Festival.”

Glassner hints at more music to come from the vault, too. He adds, “The Newport Folk Archives house an embarrassment of bluegrass riches and curating this set proved to be a joyful yet challenging experience. The only way we were able to make the tough decisions of what to cut was with the knowledge that this is only the beginning of our efforts to make the recorded history of Newport more available to our fans.”

Tune in to Newport Folk’s Festival Revival Weekend from Friday, July 31-Sunday, August 2.


 

BGS 5+5: Christopher Paul Stelling

Artist: Christopher Paul Stelling
Hometown: Asheville, North Carolina (lately)
Latest album: Best of Luck (February 7, 2020 on Anti-)
Personal nicknames (or rejected band names): Chris, CP, CPS, CP Stelling, Dude

What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?

Proposing to my partner Julia at the end of my Newport Folk Fest set in 2015, that was wild. So much love at NPFF.

What other art forms — literature, film, dance, painting, etc — inform your music?

I really rely on the other art forms sometimes more than music for my inspiration, so I’m glad you asked… all of the above, really. I try to read as much as possible. I see all creative pursuits as having more in common than not.

What rituals do you have, either in the studio or before a show?

I have rituals when I write. Less so in the studio or before a show, but since writing is what takes me to the studio or the show, I think it’s fair to answer this way… I just make myself available, try to turn off my defenses, try to be honest, and try to listen. It’s a feeling, the process, it’s less methodical than maybe one might expect, but for me I just try to show up, be honest, play my instrument, and sing words improvisationally, and then work those raw materials into something when I find a thread. I’m no expert, but I’m certain that there’s no right or wrong way to write a song.

If you had to write a mission statement for your career, what would it be?

Keep going. I’ve kept going. I just gotta keep going. It’s not always easy. Sometimes it gets really difficult. Sometimes it’s the most natural thing in all the world. I’m so lucky to even be able to make a living at this — that I owe it to my luck to keep it up.

How often do you hide behind a character in a song or use “you” when it’s actually “me”?

Typically not characters (with names) per se, but “you” and “me” are almost always interchangeable. I try my best not to hide in songs. I try to find the similarities in things… friends/enemy, good/bad, ugly/beautiful, maybe I’m at odds with duality and concerned with mending differences — I hadn’t really considered that before. Thanks for asking.


Photo credit: Chris Phelps