We find ourselves at a proverbial crossroads in Southern Appalachia. Our land battered by the devastation of a hurricane, scorched by scores of wildfires; ancient rivers, swelled by floodwaters, carving new courses through the landscape. Yet the land and its peoples persist. As artists, we are the guardians of the stories of the people in our communities – stories of hope and love, of loss and desperation, of a community rising above tragic circumstance. Stories of Resilience.
On our new album, we reflect in song about what it means to meet the moment with music that both binds our wounds and demonstrates our healing. In bearing witness to this time and place, we recognize that the path forward is not just survival – it is the conscious choice to innovate, to adapt in the face of adversity. It is in that choice that we find meaning, and renewal.
The songs on this playlist refer to the theme of resilience or have a connection to specific songs on our album of the same name. We wanted to share the work of some of the other artists that wrote the material and/or inspired the songs we recorded. Check out and follow these folks – especially if they are new names. Their catalogs are terrific discoveries and their work is excellent! – Unspoken Tradition
“Linemen” – Zoe & Cloyd
John Cloyd Miller is the author of the song “Weary Town” from our album. Zoe & Cloyd are longtime friends and Western North Carolina natives who experienced the ravages of hurricane Helene in their neighborhood. “Linemen” is a tribute to the heroes of the rescue and recovery effort as they were on the front lines of restoring power to the region. God bless these Linemen!
“Katie and Burl” – Acoustic Syndicate
We wanted to share the original version of this song that we re-recorded for our album Resilience. Acoustic Syndicate is a seminal North Carolina fusion-grass band and writer-guitarist Steve McMurray is a dear friend.
“Dust Bowl Children” – Alison Krauss & Union Station
One of our favorite songs and artists! A story of trials, tribulations, and resilience from another point in history.
“Papertown” – Balsam Range
Western North Carolina native Milan Miller wrote this song as well as one from our album called “Weeds Don’t Wither.” This is the true story of the North Carolina mountain town of Canton and its paper mill that was the heart of the town’s industry. The mill has since been closed, adding an extra layer of disparity to the story.
“Alleghenies” – Saravanan Sankaran
From our bass player’s solo album Back To Bassics. It’s one Sav wrote about his Western Pennsylvania mountain home! This is a mainstay of our live set.
“Weary Town” – Unspoken Tradition
This song’s theme is at the center of our new album. It holds new meaning for us in the wake of the great flood disaster that came to our Western North Carolina home. When we play it live, we dedicate it to the city of Asheville and the resilient people of WNC.
“Back in Yonder’s World” – Norman Blake & Tony Rice
This song! And the album it’s from, Norman Blake & Tony Rice 2, is a “desert island” album for us.
“Margie” – Danny Paisley & The Southern Grass
This artist is one of our biggest influences, especially for Sav. We were thrilled and honored to have Danny join us on “I’ll Break Out Again Tonight” as a featured vocalist!
“Moments” – Unspoken Tradition
One of the first singles we released from the new album. Written by the album’s producer, Jon Weisberger, it embodies the sincerity of appreciating the subtle moments in life.
“I’m In a Hurry (And Don’t Know Why)” – Alabama
This country-rock hit was a radio staple in its time. We thought it would make a great bluegrass song. To hear our version, listen to our Mixtape below or, better yet, check it out on the new album!
The Earl Scruggs Revue’s only movie soundtrack, Where The Lilies Bloom (1974), is not well known. That’s a pity because in 1973, when it was recorded, the band had been together for four years and was a very solid outfit. At the beginning of 1973 the group included Earl, Randy, and Gary Scruggs, Josh Graves, and Jody Maphis. Steve Scruggs was an occasional member. Vassar Clements’ last credited appearance on record with the Revue was on Earl Scruggs‘ Dueling Banjos (C 32268), released early in 1973, and he was still with them when they recorded the soundtrack.
The movie was filmed between May and August 1972 and released in 1974 through United Artists. The soundtrack album, Columbia KC 32806, is credited to the Revue and their longtime producer, Ron Bledsoe. Movie soundtrack recordings are made after the film has been edited; the musicians perform in a studio setting while the film is rolling. This is a precision business, obviously; I have yet to find accounts of the Revue’s involvement in this process, which must have taken place in early 1973.
Soundtrack albums focus on eliciting memories of the film. Viewing and listening are, in the final analysis, two very different things. The music in Where The Lilies Bloom was, in the first instance, the musicians’ responses to the visuals, shaped by the movie producer and director.
Earl came up with new tunes and restatements of old ones; Randy contributed deft and creative electric and acoustic guitar, both flatpicked and fingerpicked; Vassar performed masterful fiddle from a point in his career when he was doing the old-time tunes brilliantly while developing his new jazz-inflected style; and Josh played the creative and brilliant Dobro that a generation would follow.
The film’s producer, Robert B. Radnitz, based the picture on Vera and Bill Cleaver’s award-winning young adult novel of the same title. It tells the story of the struggle of the Luther family siblings, four young Appalachian country youths – the oldest is 16 – to live at home together following the death of their widower father. They do this by “wildcrafting,” gathering and selling wild herbs as health supplements. The narrative focuses on the two teen daughters’ growth and relationships.
Where The Lilies Bloom was shot on location in Watauga County on North Carolina’s northwestern border. Producer Radnitz strove to employ workers from Appalachia, such as screenplay writer Earl Hamner Jr. and actor Harry Dean Stanton, who had a leading role as the older “Kiser Pease.” The young actress who had the leading role as 14-year-old “Mary Call Luther,” Julie Gohlson, was a Georgia native chosen after a nationwide search. She was nominated for a Golden Globe in 1975. This was her only movie appearance.
Radnitz worked with toymakers Mattel on this co-production, their second. The first was Sounder, released in 1973. That acclaimed film about young teens in Black Mississippi propelled Cicely Tyson to stardom and featured blues star Taj Mahal for its soundtrack. For his second movie’s soundtrack, Radnitz again sought music reflecting the cultural background of the film’s narrative – in this case, the oral traditions of Appalachia. He chose the Earl Scruggs Revue.
The film got a good reception, with prizes and nominations of various sorts. It’s well worth watching – not only is there a DVD with commentary, it’s also available VOD on YouTube and is available to watch via select streaming services. The album, on the other hand, pretty much sank like a stone – no ripples. But if you want to hear what the Earl Scruggs Revue sounded like when they were together just playing by themselves, with no added stars in the studio, this is the album to try. There’s plenty from them to appreciate on the film’s soundtrack, as well. A lot of nice creative moves here!
This was a hard album to find. By the time I finally got it in the ’80s I wasn’t as interested in the band as I’d been earlier. I listened once, filed it away, and only listened again recently. Holding and looking at the album cover during this playback reminded me why I only listened to it once before. The liner notes must have been composed by some 9-to-5er at United Artists. There’s nothing there about the music. Who’s the female vocalist? What’s the band doing? No mentions. The visuals and most of the copy are from the movie. Not much of a musical souvenir!
The album cover of Columbia KC 82806 announces at the top: “The Original Soundtrack Recording.” Below that comes “Radnitz /Mattel Productions presents, where the lilies bloom (all in large lowercase), then: “Music Performed by” and finally “The Earl Scruggs Revue.” All this is printed over a collage of color shots of herbs, along with nine little black and white stills from the film – one of which is the Revue.
On back of the album cover, we are told this is a ”Soundtrack Album Produced by Ron Bledsoe [for] A Robert B. Radnitz Film.” Cast members (but not band members) are listed. Next to this info are small columns, left and right, that list the tracks. Filling the center below all this is a large still of the film’s young lead actors; on either side of this are illustrations of wild herbs – three on each side.
In spite of the Revue’s lack of prominence on the album’s notes, I think that the band did a good job of coming up with new compositions and old-time tunes that represent their music in imaginative arrangements relating to the context of the film.
After relistening to the LP, I bought the film’s DVD, which was remastered and released in 2022 with an audio commentary by filmmaker and historian Daniel Kremer. The film opens (as does album track A1) with song “Where The Lillies Bloom” sung by its composer, Barbara Mauritz.
Singer-songwriter Mauritz (1949-2014), originally from Texas, was the vocalist with Lamb, an avant-garde folk-jazz-rock fusion group active in San Francisco in the early ’70s. Her first solo album, Music Box, was released on Columbia in 1972.
How did she end up on this movie’s soundtrack? I wish I knew! Being a Columbia artist was probably not coincidental. As we hear, she’s paired with another Columbia artist, Earl Scruggs, on the theme song at the opening. The Revue is laid-back in the track’s background at the start; eventually Randy’s guitar plays the melody, while Earl’s banjo sneaks up to end with beautiful 6/8 triplets in the background, and a few of Josh’s Dobro licks can be heard.
This is music meant to be heard in accompaniment to the visuals that open the film, aptly demonstrated by its trailer, which opens with the character “Devola Luther” (the oldest sister, played by Jan Smithers) singing “A Long Time Traveling” a cappella. The guitar is very much in the background, as is the banjo, which comes up only at the end.
The album contains three “Narrative” tracks by lead character Mary Call Luther which explicate the dramatic turning points in the film’s story. Following the first narrative track, A2, comes “Turkey Chase”, track A3, which plays beneath a scene in which the Luther children are trying to catch wild turkeys.
The Revue is actually playing the traditional fiddle tune “Chicken Reel,” led by Earl with brief interludes by Randy (lead guitar) and Josh Graves (Dobro). This is two minutes of really good straightforward old-time music, which the Revue knew well but rarely recorded.
The next track (A4) presents slow, moody instrumental music that plays behind scenes pertaining to the father’s death: “All My Trials,” a traditional spiritual with Bahamian connections popularized by Joan Baez in the ’60s. Randy’s lead guitar mixes with some nice piano, probably by Mauritz. It’s a pretty performance.
Track A5, “I Love My Love,” which plays behind a romantic sequence, was also popular in the folk revival. English composer Gustav Holst described it as a “Cornish folksong” in his arrangement of it. It’s sung here by Mauritz, over a finger-picked guitar which could be hers, or maybe that of Randy or Earl.
Track A6 repeats the theme, “Where The Lilies Bloom,” as a slow instrumental piece in 4/4 time. Randy’s finger-picked guitar plays it twice, and then Gary’s bass and Earl’s banjo join for two more verses. It really demonstrates Earl’s artistry – such control, economy, lyricism!
In the film’s soundtrack, The Revue plays Earl’s “Flint Hill Special” behind several action scenes – countryside automotive rambles – as Mary Call and the family are in conflict with Kiser. Here’s what that sounds like as played by Earl, Josh, and Vassar on the soundtrack:
The original pressing of the LP diverges from the movie soundtrack at this point, on Track A7, which is also identified as “Flint Hill Special.” No doubt that garnered Earl some royalties for his composition of that name, but the tune played on the original album is the traditional “Sally Ann,” a piece Earl recorded on his 1961 Foggy Mountain Banjo release. (This seems to have been corrected on digitally distributed versions of the album. Hear the LP’s version of “Sally Ann” below.)
It’s an interesting new version, opening with a couple of fiddle licks and then shifting to the percussive sound of the banjo strings being played with right-hand fingerpicking (a “roll”) while the strings are muted with the heel of the left hand. Then the fiddle steps up while at the same time Dobro, bass, and guitar enter – a powerful old-time bluegrass sound. Earl’s banjo takes over second time through, then the fiddle returns and finally Earl closes as he began, percussively. The “shave and a haircut” ending is dominated by Randy’s fancy guitar.
Side two of the album (track B1) opens with music from a scene in which the four Luthers, who’d been at the grocery store learning about wildcrafting, get a ride home from the store owner “Mr. Connell” (played by Tom Spratley). Here, the Revue is heard playing “Carolina Boogie,” basically an update of Earl’s up-tempo blues in G, “Foggy Mountain Special.” It features the entire Revue with a considerable amount of call-response between Randy and Vassar and a great ending.
The family’s funeral for the mountainside burial of their father includes “Been A Long Time Traveling” (track B2) sung a cappella by oldest daughter character, Devola. It’s heard twice, at the beginning and the close of the burial scene.
Following this, the film’s narrative shifts to wildcrafting, with Mary Call’s next visit to the grocery store to sell herbs backed by the Revue playing (track B3) Earl’s “Stash It,” a catchy banjo tune which starts slowly and speeds up.
Next, Mary Call’s poem about witnessing a starburst is heard on track B4, with subtle guitar and piano backup. It’s followed (track B5) by “All The Pretty Little Horses,” a traditional lullaby of African American origin, performed solo here by Randy’s fingerpicked guitar. In the film this plays behind a tender scene in which the Connells visit the Luther home.
Later, as the Luther children are depicted gathering herbs, the melody of the old Carter Family song “Keep On The Sunny Side” (track B6) is heard. First, it’s finger-picked by Randy on guitar, then Earl’s banjo comes in doing harmony. Neat! This is the ultimate father and son duet; Gary, on bass, is close by.
As the narrative approaches climax, we hear Barbara Mauritz singing her “All The Things Inside of Me” (track B7), accompanied by fingerpicked guitar, probably by Randy but possibly by Mauritz herself.
Mary Call’s final narrative (track B8) leads to the full band playing the theme; it’s heard at length as the film’s credits roll.
The preceding description, based on the album, does not point out all the places where the Revue’s music is heard on the film soundtrack – scenes where Randy’s guitar, Gary’s harmonica, Josh’s Dobro, and Vassar’s fiddle add aural nuances to the screenplay. Throughout the film, music editor Robert Takagi places in the aural background little quotes taken from performances like the final version of the theme. Randy’s guitar, in particular, is heard behind several scenes.
Other musical segments in the film are not heard on the album at all, but play a central role in evoking the film’s cultural milieu. Thus, while rambling in the car, they turn on a local radio station: the Revue is heard playing county-rock. Elsewhere, as they are walking home from wildcrafting, there’s a nice a cappella performance of “Feast Here Tonight” by youngest Luther daughter “Ima Dean” (played by Helen Harmon).
These musical segments remind us that the Revue, while featured on the album, is really playing in support of a story, a visual drama. As such their music here is different from that found on all their other albums. It does not sell the sound of the band – it speaks for images of the region’s atmosphere and its culture that emerge in the film’s narrative.
Oh, WOW! A bonus, surprise episode with Watchhouse? Yes! And it is a treat.
We are pleased to have Jacob Sharp of Mipso as our guest host in conversation with his friends Andrew Marlin and Emily Frantz of Watchhouse, talking about their new studio album, Rituals. The record was co-produced with Ryan Gustafson of The Dead Tongues and finds the North Carolina duo exploring themes of identity, awareness, and evolution.
We are so pumped about this pairing on the pod! We are also huge fans of Jacob’s music – with Mipso as well as in his solo endeavors – from his attitude to his vibes. Not to mention how super talented he is. This is a really fun conversation between some old pals. Jacob was based in California, but now moving back to North Carolina, so it’s cool to have a little homecoming for these North Carolinians. Thanks for listening!
Chances are you’ve cultivated a few personal routines to help you navigate the world: one for daily life, one for weekly, monthly, and so on. There’s also likely a handful of individual habits that affect how you choose to go about your routine. The former, at times, can influence the latter, fitting within each other like a pair of nesting dolls, adjacent and similar in their roles.
Then there are rituals. Though these three recurring sets of actions – routines, habits, and rituals – would seem like easily overlapping bedfellows, rituals carry an intrinsic quality the other two lack: mindfulness. Rituals bear a sense of intention like the other two, but it’s often coupled with an element of symbolism or custom. It’s not just a matter of doing something and saying it’s done; there are other connotations or expectations that may influence why doing it matters.
Holding this notion in mind, it’s Rituals that Andrew Marlin and Emily Frantz of North Carolina duo Watchhouse have decided to name their new album. Through its 11 tracks, the married musicians posit an abundance of questions and actions, their contemplations placed in settings that are as clear as a simple back porch and as abstract as a space “through the looking glass,” “beyond this to and fro.” Settings that exist outside of not only any kind of routine, but separate from time and space all together.
Though Watchhouse’s new writings don’t seem to present rituals in their conventional form, the title still feels wholly appropriate. Marlin and Frantz’s reflections, wistful pining, and open-ended ruminations don’t lead to a sense of clear, expected structure that rituals would traditionally provide, but each song is lined with an abundance of intention, mindfulness, and hope for various outcomes. Sometimes these are overtly stated – Oh,I’m dreaming of a life with you in the sun/ And I hope our time together has only just begun… – and sometimes they are dressed in metaphors: Go fire your cannonball, go and fire away/ When the ashes fall we’ll start a brand new day.
There are defined ideas that Watchhouse put forth on the album: identity and awareness, the distinction between patterns and truths, how to develop a positive relationship with change, and what it means to evolve. All the same, while our internal responses to these songs may change over time, the very act of revisiting, replaying, and reconsidering their meanings, and how we are affected by them, can be a form of ritual in its own way.
Amid an extensive tour that will take them all over the U.S. and into Canada through summer and fall, Watchhouse spoke with BGS about their collaborative dynamic, how their individual artistic instincts influence the direction of a song, and the prevalence of duality in the album – as well as in their lives.
It’s been about four years since your last album and eight years since both your lives changed from bandmates to family. Given that Rituals focuses on patterns and the perception of change on our lives, how has the ever-growing longevity of your union in marriage — and all the ways marriage transforms a relationship on its own — changed the way you perceive and interact with the music making process?
Andrew Marlin: When you hit the road and join forces with other people to play music, it’s kind of like stepping outside of the norm and stepping outside of the daily life to go up there and almost take on a role or take on a character in order to get inside the music. You kind of just forget everything that the day often requires of you, because all of a sudden those requirements aren’t there. It’s just the stage and the music and the people that are there rooting for you to go deep, you know?
I think finding that zone with Emily has had its challenges in the past, because we’re so closely tied to each other. We raise kids together and we live together, and so doing all this traveling together and playing music together too, it makes it harder – or made it harder for me at the beginning, I think – to leave the daily routine and expectations behind on stage and just shed all of that and take on that character. It’s one thing to look at your bandmates’ eyes and get a little nod or whatever’s happening during the music. It’s kind of like this understanding of, “I’m not here right now. This is just me playing music.”
Getting to that zone with Emily, now that we’re 16 years into it, has taken a while to get to that point to where it’s an acceptance of all of it, instead of just leaving things behind to get on stage. It’s like we’re carrying all of it with us at all points in time. People that come to see us get a real and honest version of ourselves, trying to go deep in the music but also being completely aware of each other too.
Emily Frantz: I was just thinking about how much things changed in 2020 and 2021, living our mundane day-to-day lives in our house, and the transition back into being on the road again and touring. We’ve obviously been doing that for a few years now since COVID, but that experience made us relearn what the relationship is between our daily life at home and touring and [figuring out] how can they coexist in a healthy way.
Ironically, the album’s opening track, “Shape,” avoids the traditional shape or structure of a song (all verses, no chorus) while the actual narrative of the song embraces ideas that lean into a sense of purgatory and a nebulous state of being — the very opposite of what would help establish a sense of shape, boundaries, identity, direction, patterns, or truths. What were the mental and emotional motivations that inspired you to take the song in this direction?
AM: It’s like establishing the shape or the pattern in order to separate yourself from it. That’s what a lot of those verses are doing, kind of outlining the things that often make me feel like I’m in a box and I’m trying to get outside of that box. The only way to do it – because there’s no real form to it – is to imagine the parameters, imagine the spaces that it ends up kind of confining you in, in order to step outside of those [boxes]. I think that was the intention with “Shape.”
EF: And the way that “Shape” came into its final form, at least final the way it appears on the record, was a lot of the things that you said about it: It didn’t ever really conform and it got rearranged and had things added and taken away from it so many times, a lot more so than other songs. But it always did feel like the backbone of this record in a lot of ways, which is why it felt really right as the opening track of this record.
AM: If there was a shape to define that song, I’d say it’s a spiral.
How have you fit rituals into your lives and have they helped you maintain a sense of stable continuity as a family and as musicians?
AM: I feel like since having kids, the day has taken so much more form. Because I think that, and Emily [is] really brilliant about this, giving structure to the day is super helpful for them. So that they don’t have to wonder what’s happening, so that they can really pay attention to what is happening. I’ve watched both of our kids blossom in that environment. Emily’s really good about helping to create that and make sure we stick to it. Carrying that on the road has been really helpful, too and something that I didn’t realize I was going to benefit very much from. Because I definitely, when left to my own devices, am like a sheet left out to dry – just flapping in the wind. To have a little bit of structure to the day, and have to enter into these mental zones with the kiddos, has added a lot of mental structure to my existence. I think that’s the biggest thing for me.
And within that, it’s about realizing what the day actually requires of me, instead of what I imagined today to be expecting of me. Finding those real anchors and a little more gravity to the things I’m working on have helped me shed old expectations of myself and what I think I’m supposed to be doing. I think that’s what led us to be okay with changing the band name and changing up some of the sounds and approaching this thing we’ve been doing for a long time in a whole new way.
EF: I think the thing that we are [focusing on] 16 years in is finding where the balance is between freedom and artistic expression, and also just daily life and figuring out how to have those two things like coexist and make each other better and not be in a constant sort of push and pull.
The first verse in “Beyond Meaning” is intriguing. The statement of your “gentle” disposition is nice, but its seemingly conditional nature gives pause — particularly when considering that life is noisy and out of our control more often than not. What is it that you’re trying to say about your own identity and awareness of how you cope with the noise and bustle of everyday living?
AM: I feel like what I was getting at is to view it as though it’s external noise. But it’s actually internal noise. That’s often the thing that keeps me from my peace and keeps me from being gentle. It’s my own defenses and my own self-consciousness that end up creating all of this noise. It paints the external noise in a negative light. When I can control that and remember to keep my own defenses at bay and be open and actually present, the idea that maybe this external noise is not a malicious one keeps me gentle and then often what comes from that is a gentle interaction. So it’s more about controlling the internal noise in order to actually experience the external factors.
Out of the 11 songs on the album, Emily is the primary vocalist only for “Firelight.” Why was Emily the right fit to sing the story of this one song? And more broadly, what went into your shared thought process on when, and for how long, you two would sing together? Is it a purely harmony and arrangement-based decision, or do the emotions of a song influence how each vocal arrangement is structured?
EF: A lot of times it can be pretty cut and dry. If we’re deciding who should sing lead on a song, it might just have to do with the range or the key, where we think it sounds good. Sometimes that plays into it maybe even more than the lyrics or the subject matter. With Andrew doing the songwriting, he’s always been more of the primary lead vocalist. Oftentimes, by the time we’re arranging a tune and finding out how we want to present it, it’s very cemented in his voice. But then a lot of times, there will be tunes that we’re struggling with and we’re not quite finding it. By switching out who’s singing, it reframes the whole song and allows us to not just change the lead vocalist, but to find a whole different zone for the song in terms of what we hear and how it gets arranged and recorded. That was the case with “Firelight.” We had so many different versions of that song over the years leading up to recording – different time signatures, different instrumentation – and that was one of the last ones that came together for this album. Most of it got done after the initial tracking session because we were searching on it for a long time and I think I like it more and more the longer I sit with it, the more I hear it.
AM: Often people do want to know why Emily’s not singing more tunes or why the roles are what they are. But I think it’s really important to shine a little light on what Emily does behind the scenes when she’s not singing. The way she plays rhythm and plays violin or whatever instrument she’s on, it ends up being this anchor for everyone in the band. The way that offers complete structure to what we’re doing and allows everything else to sway around that a little bit, I feel like even when she’s not singing, her musical voice is such a strong presence in the music. I’ve heard her say this before, like when she’s playing violin, she’d rather not sing lead because it’s almost like having to sing with two voices. That became part of the structure of what we’ve been doing all along, not just with the lead vocal. The feel of the song and the rhythm and the chord structure and the flow of it all often is hinged on what Emily ends up doing. I think that’s just as important as her taking a lead vocal.
EF: I’ve really, over the years of us playing music together, come around to enjoying singing lead when we find the song that feels good in my range. But for the most part, I’d rather be singing harmony to Andrew and that definitely brings me just as much, if not more, fulfillment than singing lead on a song.
“Endless Highway (Pt. 1)” and “Sway / Endless Highway (Pt. 2)” leave a much heavier state of reflection than that of “Patterns,” the song you chose as the album’s finale. Were the lighter tone of the music and the lyrics a driving factor for why these last three songs are in this order? Did you want to avoid an ending that leaves the listener with a more uncertain emotional state?
AM: I’ll start off by saying Ryan Gustafson, who produced this record with us, actually ended up coming up with this track order. Having not listened to it that way and then taking Ryan’s perspective on it, it was like being able to listen to these songs in their entirety for the first time. All of a sudden, I was getting feelings from these recordings that I hadn’t gotten yet.
“Endless Highway (Pt. 1)” is a heavier song and talks about a really traumatic event that Emily and I went through and that long drone at the end of it kind of dances around the dread of that. Then into “Sway,” it’s more of a coming out of that [feeling]. How do we peek our heads out of the hole once we’ve gone down and slowly crawl back out? To finally get into “Endless Highway (Pt. 2),” where it feels like a real revelation and a real triumphant part of the record? So, you get to the top of the mountain on this song. But I do believe that while those revelations come, we get to the top of those mountains, everything’s clear, and there’s so much lightness and clarity around us, we still have to wake up the next morning, make coffee, make breakfast, get kids to school, go and run errands and carry that little mountain of revelation with us everywhere we go.
I think that the heaviness and the profoundness of that idea ends up giving way to these smaller, mundane parts of our life. That’s what “Patterns” feels like to me. It’s an admission that if we can hold on to those little revelations and the clarity they offered us, hopefully it’ll keep us light by offering us that little reminder of hope.
EF: Going back to what Andrew was just saying about having these big events or these heavy, emotional things happen, and then having to go on with our lives, and the push and pull of that – there’s frustration and beauty in it. I love the order of those [last few] tracks, because I feel both the “Endless Highways” and “Sway” are songs that were written in the middle of this album being written and there’s a lot of anguish from a lot of different sources in those songs. And then “Patterns” was the last song that was written for the album before we recorded it, so it feels like it has a certain clarity to it. Going down in the trench and making your way back up, even though it’s still really just posing a lot of the same questions [as the beginning of the album], but from a more settled state of mind.
What truths about yourselves and how you view the world have you discovered and accepted since finishing Rituals? How many of the questions you’ve posed through these songs do you feel you’ve managed to settle on answers for?
AM: I don’t think I would often look closely enough at how I was making a person feel, as much as I would look at the way the person was. I think that’s becoming more of my truth these days, just to trust that showing up open-minded with awareness and consciousness, focused on experiencing rather than projecting, is probably the closest to any truths that have come out of writing these songs and getting to the end of this record. The takeaway is that it’s not like we found answers, necessarily.
EF: It’s all just a pursuit, always.
AM: You know, it’s not always about finding answers. It’s about finding out–
When it comes to the rich, vibrant musical landscape that is American music, few bands have the sonic range, technical capabilities and curious prowess as that of Leftover Salmon — bluegrass to blues, country to Cajun, rock to roots, jazz to jam.
And it’s that jam element at the melodic core of Salmon. They jam under the cascading snowflakes atop a Colorado ski slope or with beads of sweat rolling down their faces in the backwoods of Florida. They jam early in the morning or way late into the night. They jam for massive crowds or simply for themselves. What matters most is the music and where it can take you, onstage and on the road.
Though Salmon is in the midst of its 35th anniversary celebration, the actual timeline goes back four decades, where, in 1985, a young guitarist named Vince Herman took off from West Virginia in search of the “mythical bluegrass scene” in Colorado.
His quest eventually led him to a bar in Boulder one night, the same evening a talented multi-instrumentalist, Drew Emmitt, was performing onstage in the Left Hand String Band. The sign on the door said “Live Bluegrass Music Tonight,” so Herman strolled in.
From there, the duo became inseparable, ultimately joining forces in 1989 to play a New Year’s Eve gig in Crested Butte under the name Leftover Salmon (a combination of Emmitt’s band moniker and Herman’s short-lived Colorado group The Salmon Heads).
With Salmon’s latest album, Let’s Party About It, the outfit once again rises to the occasion, providing soothing, feel-good tunes that radiate gratitude, graciousness, connectivity and compassion in a modern era of uncertainty, confusion and fear.
Backstage before a show in Asheville, North Carolina, Herman and Emmitt talked at length about the road to the here and now. In simplest terms, Leftover Salmon is currently riding a big wave of popularity and cultural importance — a high-water mark of its legend, lore and legacy.
What spurred you to go to Colorado in 1985?
Vince Herman: It was fall [in Morganton, West Virginia]. It was getting cold in this place I was living, which was in an attic of a house that we were remodeling. It didn’t have any heat. I went to college there [at the West Virginia University] and had six credits to go. I kind of ran out of motivation and it was getting cold. We just figured it was time to do something else.
Why Colorado?
Well, it was the bluegrass scene there. I was playing a lot of old-time and some bluegrass in West Virginia. And I knew there was a progressive bluegrass scene based around the Telluride Bluegrass Festival. The band Hot Rize was in Boulder, which was a major influence on me. So, I figured Boulder would have a good progressive bluegrass scene. And it sure did, proven by pulling up and seeing a “Live Bluegrass Music Tonight” sign [at a bar].
Did you drive across the country by yourself?
No, I came across with a guy named Lou Pritchard. There’s all kinds of Pritchards in the music business. He’s a teacher [now] in southern West Virginia. So, I threw the dice and sold a guitar to make the trip. We lived the first week in a storage shed. We rented it. It was a storage shed, but hell, it had power, you know? [Laughs] The plan was, “Let’s go to Colorado and see what happens.” Lou was thinking about starting a brewery because small breweries were just made legal. I ended up getting a job cooking in a restaurant and just playing tunes on the Boulder Mall. [Back in West Virginia], I was playing for free beer and somebody’s wallet, played a little bit in a Grateful Dead band called Nexus. But nothing professional in any way.
Were there aspirations to start a band and really give it a go?
Yeah, definitely. It was, “Go to Colorado and find like-minded players.” I didn’t know for sure whether I’d have a music career, but other things were totally unsatisfying. I’ve had a lot of jobs, man. I’ve been a cook, bartender, fisherman, roofer, painter, landscaper. I’ve done all the jobs you can imagine. But this is by far the best.
So, your first night in Boulder, the stars align. You walk in on a bluegrass jam and run into Drew, who’s been with you since that moment.
VH: Yeah, it’s been 40 years. I said hello [to Drew] that night and, I guess, it was probably six or nine months later I was in the Left Hand String Band. I did about a year there, and then they got a better guitar player. So, I started The Salmon Heads after I got kicked out of Left Hand. [Laughs]
You told me one time that if you tried out for Salmon now, you wouldn’t get in.
Oh, for sure. Definitely. My philosophy has always been to be the worst player in any band I’m in. So, it has served me well over the years. [Laughs]
So, New Year’s Eve 1989, you form Leftover Salmon.
We went through every combination of those two band names — Left Hand String Band and The Salmon Heads — and stuck with Leftover Salmon for the first night, never knowing it would be any more than one night of a gig [in Crested Butte]. The older the tune, the more the bluegrass stomp kind of thing would go on, people would slam dance. We were like, “Something’s good about this.” And we had a bunch of gigs the next morning. All the bar owners talked to each other. There was no plan [to form a group], but we got all those calls the next morning to book the band.
[Drew Emmitt enters the backstage area and sits down.]
What about for you, Drew? You and Vince have been together for 40 years. What was it about Vince that you felt this was a guy you wanted to play with?
Drew Emmitt: Well, I came from more of a bluegrass-serious kind of world. And I always loved the lightness that Vince always brought to the music, all the fun. Playing music with him was always fun, and singing with him. He’s got a very powerful voice. We both sing kind of loud, so we sing well together. The lightness and the fun factor — that’s what, in so many ways, has driven this band. It’s just always been fun. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been onstage just laughing hysterically because there’s so much madness going on.
I’ve been following you guys for almost 20 years and, no matter what kind of day your day is, you’ll always have fun at a Salmon show. And it seems, lately, that there’s a reinvigoration in the band, a few more logs being thrown on the fire.
VH: Absolutely. Jay Starling on keys, dobro and lap steel adds a great element to it, you know? And [drummer] Alwyn [Robinson] and [bassist] Greg [Garrison] together in the rhythm section. It just brings such energy to it. And Drew, [banjoist] Andy [Thorn] and I just get to ride on that stuff.
What is it about Drew that works for you?
VH: He’s relentless, man. (Turns to Emmitt). You hit that mandolin and just get that tremolo going — nobody like it. It sure gets a crowd riled up.
You have a new album out. What does it mean that people still believe in what the band is and what the band does?
VH: Hot Rize was a real major influence. I saw Tim [O’Brien] and was like, “Okay, so we’ll be in this little musical niche.” It’s never going to be the Rolling Stones or Pink Floyd level kind of stuff. But, it could be this niche that I could age in and stay in, and be able to do it for a long time. That’s kind of what the folk/bluegrass world looked like to me. I just feel very lucky to have kind of imagined that so many years ago, and to have actually lived it. It’s pretty unusual and I’m incredibly grateful.
What’s been the biggest takeaway from this journey thus far?
DE: The fact that people are still coming to see us. And it’s still working, and actually working better than it ever had. The fact that we can keep playing this and that it’s still relevant. And there’s this scene that has built up around this music. There’s a lot of different bands out there that are building the momentum, [with] probably the main driver of that would be our buddy, Billy Strings.
And you guys blazed a lot of that path Billy’s walking on.
DE: And we followed in a blazed path. We came up behind the people that blazed it for us. And then we contributed our part of it, which was maybe adding a little more rowdiness, a little more rock and roll. But, keeping with that progressive thing that we learned from Hot Rize, New Grass Revival, Nitty Gritty Dirt Band, Old & In the Way — bands that were pushing the limits of bluegrass. I love traditional bluegrass, but it’s so fun to take traditional bluegrass and do crazy stuff with it.
Traditional bluegrass gives you the tools to do whatever you want.
DE: Exactly. Because it’s an art form, and you’ve got to learn it if you want to play bluegrass, which I’m still working very hard at, trying to learn to how to do it. What this band has brought to the scene is a levity, a fun factor. Over the years, so many of these amazing musicians have sat in with us, and they always have such a good time because it’s just wide open. Like, for instance, when Sam Bush sits in with us, he has such a good time ‘cause we just let him go.
Is that by evolution or by design, that ethos?
VH: I guess it has a lot to do with the Grateful Dead. You know, really saying, “It’s okay to have fun with music.” Go out looking for stuff in the middle of a jam. It gave us permission to do that, and [the Dead] brought so many people to bluegrass.
DE: And I hope we can keep doing it for a while. I hope that I can keep looking across the stage and seeing Vince for a long time. I’m glad to still be onstage with this guy. [Turns to Herman]
VH: I just keep being reminded of the importance of community, and helping us all get by with this [music]. Thank God we have music in the midst of all this chaos [of modern society], something that brings people together under a positive banner, and reinforces the humanity in all of us — there ain’t nothing better than music to do that.
Editor’s Note: Don’t miss Leftover Salmon and so many other great artists on the BGS stage at Bourbon & Beyond 2025. More info at bourbonandbeyond.com.
What picker doesn’t dream of a bluegrass jam meet-cute? For Andrew Marlin and Emily Frantz, a fateful inauguration day jam in 2009 not only introduced each to their lifelong beloved, but also sowed the seeds for a renowned roots duo – Watchhouse.
In a radio interview with WNCW, Marlin recalls the pair’s chemistry felt immediately apparent, with Frantz’s harmonies lending new life to The Carter Family standard “Bury Me Beneath the Willow,” one of Marlin’s jamming mainstays at the time.
The North Carolina-based duo got right to work, gigging across the backyards and front porches of their Chapel Hill community. Both multi-instrumentalists and vocalists in their own right, Marlin took on the role as primary songwriter/guitarist/banjoist/mandolinist/vocalist, with Frantz augmenting via fiddle/vocals/guitar throughout their articulate arrangements.
By 2011, the pair had released two full-length albums, Quiet Little Room (2010) and Haste Make/Hard Hearted Stranger (2011) under the name Mandolin Orange. Though they would later outgrow the moniker, Mandolin Orange utilized just two instruments to primarily sculpt the duo’s sound – the mandolin and the orange fiddle. With lyrical depth and sensitive instrumental synastry, they established themselves as adept songweavers in the roots scene.
The year 2013 saw the pair signed to Yep Roc Records, a celebrated North Carolina label, starting a distinct shift in their visibility and distribution. Their debut release under the new label that year, This Side of Jordan, earned attention from an expanding national audience, with NPR deeming the record “effortless and beautiful.” They would go on to release three more albums with Yep Roc before shedding the Mandolin Orange title in 2021. Having conceived of the name Mandolin Orange in their early twenties, Marlin remarked that the shift to Watchhouse signaled leaning into intentionality, as the two had “long been burdened by the dichotomy between our band name and the music we strive to create.” As their palates developed, the sense of intimacy in Marlin’s songwriting ripened over time. Their 2019 release, Tides of a Teardrop, an album brimming with tenderness, honesty, and grief, reckoned with Marlin’s mother’s early death.
Propelled to rename the project with similar authenticity, the name Watchhouse emerged after a year of percolating during COVID quarantine. Their subsequent self-titled album, Watchhouse (2021), centered a sonic expansiveness that reached past the confines established and upheld by their moniker of old. Additionally, the duo gained full creative control as their own label, Tiptoe Tiger Music, released the record, partnering with Thirty Tigers for distribution. Layered with novel tones that veer into the vicinity of pop, Watchhouse maintains its makers’ telltale warmth and intimacy while dressing the project in a new glow.
Notably, many of these evolutions occurred in tandem with the birth and growth of Marlin and Frantz’s daughter, Ruby, who was born in late 2018. When asked by BGS back in 2021 about the influence becoming a parent has had on his songwriting, Marlin responded, “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 its way into my perspective even in songs where I’m not talking about it.” The songs grapple with a wide range of muses, from parenthood to life during climate change, remaining buoyant despite the weightiness of it all.
That tenor of pondering accompanies Watchhouse into the release of their 2025 album, Rituals, which entered the world on May 30 via Tiptoe Tiger Music/Thirty Tigers. The provocative 11-track collection, true to the duo’s thematic strengths, interrogates the circular nature of humanity, inspecting the relationship between steadfast, cyclical ritual and ever-evolving change.
Of the title track, Marlin states in the song’s press release, “When my circumstances change, who I think I am changes, and then my established rituals and patterns no longer serve me. This song is a leap of faith, a message to anyone feeling like they are struggling to leave a former self behind. We cement ourselves through constant sharing and projection, and it feels like it’s in direct conflict with staying present and evolving. ‘Rituals’ is a song of empathy, both for myself and for others – an acknowledgment of the celebrated nobody in us all.”
Throughout the album, Marlin’s songwriting investigates these themes, brought to life by a stunning range of vocal and instrumental performances, from harmonium to pedal steel to drum kit. Frantz and Marlin strike a vocal blend as warmly entangled as ever; listening to the two sing in harmony feels akin to being mesmerized by a crackling campfire dancing beneath the starlight. Frantz even graces listeners with a rare display of lead vocals on the track fittingly called “Firelight.”
In 2019, following the release of Tides of a Teardrop, Frantz told The Boot, “I like to play more of a supportive role, as someone who’s not doing much of the songwriting and someone who likes to sing harmony more so than lead. It’s always been what I’ve gravitated to – trying to complement the song as honestly as I can without taking too much ownership over it.”
“Firelight,” therefore, feels like a glimmering gem, a highly yearned-for showcasing of Frantz’s lilting vocals. Her timber and sway sift thoughtfully through Marlin’s lyrics of memory and connection, further infusing the album’s universe with a soft haze of timelessness.
The album art adds yet another dimension to these motifs. Its subtle depiction of domestic ritual (clotheslines, coffee machines, mugs, pots, etc.), emulates the familiar tenderness with which Watchhouse posits their profound inquiries. Reckoning with the simplicity of this imagery provokes listeners to explore the songs’ ponderings in the mundane alongside the larger overarching picture. Grown with an immense deal of care and attention, Rituals is a sonically transcendent record that begets deep inner stirrings within its listeners.
With Watchhouse presently in the midst of their album release tour, the entire BGS team is simply elated to name this dynamic pair our Artist of the Month. For all of June, we’ll be resharing articles, interviews, and music from the incredible duo from the BGS archives. Plus, don’t miss our brand new, exclusive interview with Marlin and Frantz and a special edition episode of Basic Folk featuring the duo in conversation with Jacob Sharp (of Mipso), as well. Check out our Essential Watchhouse Playlist below and, if you’re lucky, catch these wondrous performers on the road this festival season!
Artist:Blue Cactus Hometown: Chapel Hill, North Carolina Latest Album:Believer Personal Nicknames: Steph and Mar
If you had to write a mission statement for your career, what would it be?
“Slow and steady, always be on the rise.” I used to think I wanted to “make it” and I worked so hard at that, that it almost broke me, literally. I had stressed myself to the point that my mental stress had begun to manifest physically as various chronic health issues. I want to be a successful musician, which means for me that I am constantly making the music I want to create and not restricting myself to any specific rules or genre limitations. Once you “make it” there’s really only one place to go from there and so many artists have shared that their least happiest times were when their career was at its peak. I want to always be climbing, up and up, constantly evolving and learning new things about myself and abilities. – Steph
What other art forms – literature, film, dance, painting, etc. – inform your music?
I’m a perpetual hobbyist at heart and am always dabbling in some form of visual art – from film photography and cyanotype to linocut print-making and botanical dyeing – I find that having these other forms of art keeps me curious and inspired, which in turn feeds my inner-songwriter. When I look at my calendar, so much of my life feels planned out and I savor the mystery and surprise of what the film will reveal when it’s developed or how one print will vary from another when I lift the paper. It’s become essential for me to make art for myself that is separate from the business of making music and it’s taught me to embrace the happy accidents of art and re-framed my relationship with perfectionism. – Steph
Genre is dead (long live genre!), but how would you describe the genres and styles your music inhabits?
We have a deep love and respect for country and folk music, which is a sort of foundation for the music we make. There’s a bit of psychedelia and art rock swirling around, too, which seems to move us toward alt-country and cosmic country. We aspire to create songs that are strong enough to exist in varied genres, they just happen to be delivered in our vernacular. – Mario
If you didn’t work in music, what would you do instead?
Working in music has meant that I’ve also needed some other work to help pay the bills and I’ve been very fortunate to have been an instructor at a local outdoor nature program near our home in Chapel Hill, working with kids. I grew up in a very rural part of Catawba County, in the foothills of North Carolina, and was always out playing in the woods, building forts, and climbing trees. This work has kept me grounded and saved me from burnout. I suppose I’d just keep doing more of it if I changed career paths. – Steph
Since food and music go so well together, what is your dream pairing of a meal and a musician?
I’m thinking comfort food: meatloaf, mashed potatoes and gravy, and green beans paired with Roy Orbison. In particular, the album Crying. – Mario
Casey Driessen is simply one of the most inventive fiddlers on planet earth. I first saw him perform in his trademark red shoes with Tim O’Brien and have had the honor of performing with him in Woody Platt’s backing ensemble, The Bluegrass Gentlemen.
Casey is friendly and open-minded, but I get the sense he doesn’t suffer fools and I was admittedly a little intimidated going into this session. I knew that I’d be stretched musically and I really was. However, he and River cultivated a musical situation where presence and attention were all that was needed. We shared an unforgettable night of music that reminded me what Tuesday’s at 185 King Street are all about.
This episode was recorded live at 185 King Street in Brevard, North Carolina, on December 3, 2024.
Photo Credit: Ken Voltz
Editor’s Note: The Travis Book Happy Hour is hosted by Travis Book of the GRAMMY Award-winning band, The Infamous Stringdusters. The show’s focus is musical collaboration and conversation around matters of being. The podcast includes highlights from Travis’s interviews and music from each live show recorded in Brevard, North Carolina.
The Travis Book Happy Hour is brought to you by Thompson Guitars and is presented by Americana Vibes and The Bluegrass Situation as part of the BGS Podcast Network. You can find the Travis Book Happy Hour on Instagram and Facebook and online at thetravisbookhappyhour.com.
From the onset of the Chatham Rabbits‘ new record, Be Real With Me, the North Carolina-based husband and wife duo are at a crossroads of sorts.
On one hand, its opening track, “Facing 29,” is filled with the despair of growing older, but on the other it also relishes in the wisdom and knowledge that comes with making it another year around the sun, as one half of the pair Austin McCombie sings of “Grabbing 30 by the strap of his boots.”
That relationship with age, the maturity that (typically) accompanies it, and the people that come and go along the way are a constant through line of the album in what Sarah McCombie describes as a journey of self discovery. “This is very much a millennials record,” she says.
Their fourth album, Be Real With Me is the duo’s most personal and vulnerable yet, a touch that’s already resonated well for them through things like 2020’s COVID-inspired 194-show Stay At Home Tour and an appearance on PBS’ limited series On The Road. “I strongly believe that putting the fans first, instead of the industry or the mystique of being an artist, has been what’s carried us to where we are now and keeps us motivated,” Sarah asserts.
The album is also set to be their most sonically diverse to date, with drum machines, synthesizers, pedal steel, and other new layers being brought into the mix. Ahead of its release, we spoke with the McCombies about the varying means of growth and evolution within it, how a pen pal inspired one of its songs, the family farm that keeps them grounded when not touring, and more.
You mentioned this being a very “millennial” record due to the heavy themes of growing up and growing away from certain people or things. Are there any other big themes that help to tie these songs together?
Sarah McCombie: Another thing that came up a lot when I was writing the songs for this record is the way we often tell others we’re doing the best we can even when we’re not, which is the case on songs like “Collateral Damage” and “Gas Money.” Sometimes you’re just completely maxed out with nothing left to give a situation other than just being a hindrance to yourself.
I thought about that a lot on “Matador,” which I wrote from a place of repeating the patterns of trusting people too fast or getting into situations that aren’t healthy, ignoring red flags along the way. Looking back, if I slowed down or was more mature I never would’ve found myself in those situations in the first place.
It all ties into the overarching theme of growing up, looking yourself in the mirror, and having these real, maturing moments. Sometimes we have to go through tough experiences to come out the other side. Where we’re at now, in our late 20s and early 30s, is when you typically come to grips with a lot of that and being real with yourself, like the album title suggests, so you can move forward in an authentic way.
Speaking of moving forward in an authentic way, your song “Gas Money” came about through an organic exchange with a longtime fan of the band that has evolved into your close pen pal. Care to explain?
SM: In the past, I’ve overcommitted or maxed myself out with friendships due to music, moving, or other circumstances that I can no longer be there for in the way I used to be. So when my pen pal Eve, who’s going to be 87 this year, sent me one of her letters containing a card with an orange sticky note with a $20 bill on it that said “for gas money for the long road home,” I knew I had to get it in a song. It’s such a cool line that reminded me of Patty Griffin’s “Long Ride Home” and turned into a story about wishing you could give more or that a friendship could be more, but you’re just maxed out at your current life stage and cannot possibly give more to that relationship.
Whether it’s pen pals like Eve or just the personal way you interact with your fans in general, it seems like both have gone a long way in pushing your career forward, in some cases almost more than the songs themselves.
SM: I couldn’t agree more. We draw so much inspiration for our music from our fans. None of what we do would be possible without them keeping us going. In addition to “Gas Money,” there’s a song on our 2022 record called “You Never Told Me I Was Pretty” that a fan also inspired.
Regarding “Gas Money,” I think there’s also a beauty in not wanting to over promise and under deliver in a relationship while still wanting to make a connection or stay in touch. And what kinder thing [is there] to do than pop a $20 in the mail in a letter to say, “Hey, I’m reaching out because you mean something to me”? I remember sending Eve the press release for the song when it came out to let her know how she inspired the chorus and to invite her to our next show in Charlottesville near where she lives. She got back to me saying she’d love to, but she’s already committed to a date that night. I thought it was so sweet how she let me down respectfully and had her boundaries about it, because that is something that’s a big part of this record as well.
Another big part of not just this record, but your lives as a whole is the family farm you live on in North Carolina. Mind telling me about that and how your work on it inspires and informs your music?
SM: The farm has been in my family since 1753, but we bought it from my grandfather a couple years ago, right before he passed away. It used to be 640 acres, but is 65 now; we still own the original cabin and home site, horses – it’s like its own entity.
It’s taught me that working really hard feels really good on a blood, sweat, and tears level. Moving fences, hauling water, and other physical work feel great to accomplish, but so do the aspects of planning ahead and working with others to build a vision. It’s very similar to how we collaborate in the band with other musicians or with graphic artists and other creatives. On that note, we work with another couple who are Angus beef farmers to help keep up our property, because it’s so much land and we’re gone so much of the time. No matter what though, the intentional behavior of putting time and effort into something, whether that be our land and the farm or songwriting and interacting with our fans, is definitely a place where you reap what you sow.
In addition to what we’ve already discussed about the record’s themes of growth, I’ve also seen you describe this project as a “new chapter” for the band. How so?
SM: We’re writing a lot more about ourselves and present-day experiences and less about older stories from our family. I went through a big phase earlier on writing Civil War-era ballads, but now we’re getting more comfortable being vulnerable with our fans and writing about our relationships and what we’re individually going through, which is huge.
Sonically, we’ve had the pleasure of working the last two years with Ryan Stigmon, an incredible pedal steel player who now tours with Zach Top. Getting to play with the pedal steel and its ambient sounds overlaid on guitar and banjo was really fun, new, and different for us. We also brought in a keys player on this record and have been touring with one as well. And “Gas Money” is an example of where we used a drum machine for the first time. We were taking a lot of ’90s pop influence from artists like Robyn and Annie Lennox. It’s led to us becoming more aware of how people are coming to see our shows and like our music because of the song, not because of the genre. We don’t care about labels, we just want to write what feels good.
Another new route y’all take on this album is with the song “Big Fish, Small Pond,” the band’s first instrumental. What led to its creation?
SM: Austin came up with the melody and we tracked it completely live in the studio, Small Pond, that we named the song after. We had an octave mandolin, banjo, guitar, and upright bass on it that we jammed on after popping gummies one night sitting around our microphones. It was around midnight or so and we got into this state and played through it a bunch of times until we got the right take.
It never had any lyrics – an instrumental is just something Austin and I had always wanted to try. We both typically just get by playing our instruments and take much more pride in our songwriting, but we still wanted to try our hand at it and challenge ourselves to place in the middle of the record that would be a breather – or intermission – from everything else we’re singing about.
Since you just mentioned that song being like an intermission, tell me about the song sequencing and how that’s helped to shape this record?
Austin McCombie: We’re really diligent about the song order. It’s not a perfect chronological order, but it does start with the first song written for this record, “Facing 29,” which helps to set the tone of getting older. As the record goes on, we also strategically placed the instrumental in the middle as a breather followed by some heavier songs like “Did I Really Know Him,” “One Little Orange,” and “Pool Shark’s Table.” It was a fun way to show how after all this reflection, we can still look in the mirror and acknowledge that we’re young, have problems, and may not be ready to change it all yet. Sometimes you have these heavy conversations where you leave trying to work on yourself and other times you table things because you aren’t ready for it, and that’s fine too.
What has the process of bringing Be Real With Me to life taught you about yourselves?
AM: It’s pushed me to realize I have more musical ability than I thought, in terms of co-producing and playing so many different instruments. In our genre you have the Andrew Marlins and Billy Stringses of the world and other folks who absolutely rip, but Sarah and I don’t really fit into that category. While that’s still true, it’s been fun to push ourselves with this record, which has given me more motivation to continue leaning into our songwriting in a deeper, more meaningful way than just a fun story about our family members. There’s still room for that, but clearly the magic is happening for us when we dig deeper.
SM: It’s taught me how to confront things I’m uncomfortable with and to not hold back as much. For instance, the song “Collateral Damage” starts with me singing, “I want my freedom and I want a baby.” It makes me cringe just saying it, but that song and phrase has wound up being a big talking point amongst fans and one of our most well-received songs during shows.
What do you hope others take away from listening to this record?
SM: I hope this record feels relatable to people in our age demographic and others wanting to look back on that time in their own lives, serving as a reminder that we’re all just trying to figure things out. It may be difficult, but if we can be real, honest and vulnerable with each other then it will ultimately help us be in a better place.
Two of the world’s preeminent experts on folk, old-time, and string band traditions (and on Black folks’ seminal contributions to these art forms), Rhiannon Giddens and Justin Robinson have announced they are reuniting on a brand new album, What Did the Blackbird Say to the Crow (set for release April 18 on Nonesuch Records). The project will feature 18 traditional North Carolina fiddle and banjo tunes tracked live and in remarkably simple settings, captured entirely outdoors and accompanied only by the wind, the rustle of the foliage, and the singing of nearby birds.
With the announcement, the pair have released a live performance video of “Hook and Line” (watch above) that was recorded at the home of Joe Thompson, their late mentor and a vital roots music forebear in the Black string band tradition’s modern iteration. What Did the Blackbird Say to the Crow was tracked in meaningful locations such as this, tying this body of music directly back to the land, the locales, and the people that birthed it.
Giddens, a MacArthur “Genius” and two-time GRAMMY Award winner and 11-time nominee, and Robinson, a fellow GRAMMY winner, thought leader, botanist, and ethnomusicologist, were both founding members of the incredibly important supergroup the Carolina Chocolate Drops. The string band would end up defining the early 2000s era of old-time music, making a huge mark in Americana circles and spawning multiple generations of Black roots-and-folk musicians after them.
What Did the Blackbird Say to the Crow, even from just this first glimpse, promises to be a natural extension of the many ways Giddens & Robinson continue to expand our roots music discourses, broaden our understandings of the people and places that birthed these sounds, and will do so in a format that’s charming, passionate, warm, and ultimately endlessly danceable.
Catch Giddens & Robinson on tour with Dirk Powell and more beginning in April 2025 and continuing through the summer. And, don’t miss Giddens’ inaugural Biscuits & Banjos festival to be held in Durham, North Carolina, at the end of April.
Photo Credit: Courtesy of the artists.
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