Tag: patsy cline

BGS 5+5: Charlie Marie

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Artist: Charlie Marie
Hometown: Burrillville, Rhode Island
Latest Album: Ramble On
Personal Nicknames: Charlie

Which artist has influenced you the most … and how?

Patsy Cline was the first country artist I ever listened to. My grandmother can be very critical of singers, but she was in love with Patsy. I would listen to her CD over and over again. I got a Patsy Cline songbook, so I could learn her songs at my vocal lessons. What Patsy taught me was to sing with your soul. Hardship is inevitable in life, but when you feel the stories that you tell you can process that pain. When you feel the hurt in your voice and hold it, then let it go, it can set you free for a moment.

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

It was one of my first live performances. I was around 10 years old. My vocal coach, John Cottone, put on a show for his students’ friends and family. It took place at the Caruso Club in Lincoln, Rhode Island. I was really nervous, but once I got onstage the anxiety settled. I sang “Crazy” and “Walking After Midnight” by Patsy Cline while using a bar stool as a prop. I had this little skit that went along with the songs. I rehearsed it for days in my grandmother’s living room. When I finished everyone clapped and cheered. I felt a rush of joy exiting the spotlight and found my grandmother waiting for me near the students’ dressing room. She helped me change out of my show clothes and I told her how I wanted to be a country singer.

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

Luckily the fear and anxiety that come up around certain music events force me to meditate. Before a “big” show or before a studio day, meditating is what helps me put my head on straight. It helps me see the big picture and recognize what’s going on inside my mind and body. A few years ago I found Tara Brach on YouTube and have been visiting her website weekly ever since. On her site, she has hundreds of free meditations and “talks” for people to use. I highly recommend giving one of her meditations a whirl.

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

My favorite place to write songs is rested on the grass. I spend most of my time with the earth and air. During the summer I deeply enjoy being with the ocean. Luckily I live in a secluded area surrounded by woods. When I’m sitting on the front steps and the sun is shining down, all I want to do is write a song. Being in the elements inspires me. It is the place I feel safest and where creativity flows.

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

My ideal pairing would be Frank Sinatra alongside a plate of Chicken Sorrento and homemade pasta from Pat’s Italian Restaurant in Johnston, Rhode Island. Local Italian restaurants always play him in the background. Every time I experience the combination I feel young again. Everyone is together and we are all having fun.

Photo credit: Owen Filion

Raised Along the Country Music Highway, Brit Taylor Was Bound for Nashville

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An exquisite singer who is undeniably country, Nashville singer-songwriter Brit Taylor is taking a stand for herself in her debut album, Real Me. It’s an intriguing collection of original songs that position the East Kentucky native as one of Americana music’s most promising artists. After a number of setbacks, ranging from the demise of a marriage to the end of a publishing deal, she contacted producer Dave Brainard to talk about a fresh start. Around the same time, she met Dan Auerbach, who encouraged her to sound like a traditional country singer, even though she’d been told for years that nobody was buying that kind of music anymore.

Emerging from a cloud of depression, Taylor channeled her emotions into song. Then she released Real Me in November, staking her claim as an artist that proudly honors her roots without sounding stuck in the past. Songs like “Waking Up Ain’t Easy” and “Broken Hearts Break” echo her true country influences, too. Talking by phone from her farm, with a few goats roaming nearby, she told BGS about the journey.

BGS: You’ve said that your family wasn’t very musical, but was there music always around as you were growing up?

Taylor: Yeah, I grew up in Eastern Kentucky, right by the Country Music Highway, US 23. So, the culture of country music is super rich around Eastern Kentucky. I grew up singing in the Kentucky Opry Junior Pros in Prestonsburg, Kentucky. I was always singing and playing music every weekend of the summer, and through the Christmas season.

What were those shows like?

It’s kind of like something you would see in Branson. Back when I was a kid, it was booming and tourism was really rich around there. We would sell out shows every Christmas and have to add matinees. I felt like I was in the big time when I was a kid! [Laughs] It’s a really nice theater, too. I saw my first concert there, and it was George Jones. I played there for 10 years, and then I moved to Nashville and started playing tiny bars! It was such a shock, The Junior Pros opened up for the older members who were in the Kentucky Opry. What I was in was just kids. I don’t think anybody was older than 18.

When did you learn to play guitar?

I learned to play guitar in my senior year of high school. I had a vocal coach and I was taking piano lessons. He knew I wanted to move to Nashville. I was very [eager to move]! I was always playing by ear, and I was always frustrating him, because I hated to read music. One day he said, “How are you gonna pack this piano around Nashville?” And I was like, “Well, I don’t know.” He said, “You’re not going to make it in that town unless you learn how to play guitar.”

And I went home and I was like, “Mom, you have to buy me a guitar. Now.” [Laughs] We went to the music store and she didn’t know anything about music. The guitar was a hundred bucks, or two hundred bucks, and my mom said, “I am only spending $50 on this guitar.” I told the guy at the cash register that I would sing him any song that he wanted if I could have that guitar for fifty dollars. I sang him a Fleetwood Mac song and he let me buy the guitar.

You had to overcome a lot of setbacks to get where you are. How did you stay focused and inspired to keep going?

I don’t think I ever thought about the option of quitting. It’s always just been there, that this is what I want to do. There’s never been any other thought. It was hard at times, but it was never like, “I want to do something else.” This is just what it’s always been. I don’t picture life any other way.

What kind of lessons did you learn from your family? Were they good at teaching you a work ethic, focus, and dedication?

Oh yeah. My dad’s an entrepreneur and he was always going against the grain, working for himself. A lot of people don’t understand that, but I came from a family that understood being an entrepreneur and chasing your dreams at all costs. He was also a martial arts instructor and that’s how he got started. So, he always taught me how to fight, whether it was in a karate match, or in real life.

Did you take lessons in martial arts as well?

I did. Dad had me whippin’ ass since I was 4. [Laughs]

How much of this dream you had was about songwriting as well? How important was it to develop your voice as a songwriter?

Oh, I wrote my first song when I was 13. It was terrible, but it came so natural. The structure came natural. I think I had listened to so much country music at that point, it had to come natural. Yeah, I moved to town to write songs. I wanted to be an artist, too, but I definitely wanted to write my own songs. It’s always been a dream to have other people record my songs as well.

Who were some of your heroes when you moved here?

Patty Loveless. I love her. She’s one of my favorite artists. Darrell Scott, and lots of songwriters, too. I grew up listening to a lot of Elvis and oldies. I sang a lot of Patsy Cline and Loretta Lynn growing up. The Judds, Dwight Yoakam, all those Kentucky artists.

Were you listening to the words even back then?

Every single word. My dad’s favorite story to tell is about when we were on the way to Myrtle Beach. I was always my dad’s little sidekick and I would sit in the front seat while my mom and my brother would nap in the back. We were listening to Sam Cooke. The line in the song was, “My baby’s gone and she ain’t coming back.” And my dad called me his baby. I was 4 years old, and I think I thought that song was about the man’s daughter. Dad said he looked over and saw me crying, and he said, “What’s wrong, baby?” And I said, “Why won’t his baby come back to him, Daddy?” [Laughs] I’m just sitting over there bawling, listening to Sam Cooke, and it’s not even about what I thought it was about, but it hit me.

Did you go to college in Nashville?

Murfreesboro. I moved here to go to school for music business at MTSU.

What do you remember about those early days, finally being so close to Nashville?

Oh my gosh, it was the best time of my life! I felt like such an adult. I’ve always been a little ahead of myself, I think, and just being on my own, getting to make my own decisions because I’m really independent, was just the best time time in my life. I had already started writing songs and co-writing songs, and I was just ready.

I moved here when I was 19 and I remember that feeling of excitement. It feels like the whole world is in front of you.

Oh, it does. That’s the cool thing about living on the farm, too. I remember when I would drive from Murfreesboro to Nashville, or Kentucky to Nashville, seeing the skyline of Nashville is so exciting! It’s just glorious! It still makes my heart drop because I’m not in it every day. So when I get to drive to town, it’s still really special.

Are you living on a farm now?

Yeah, I live out in Mount Juliet, outside of Nashville, and I’ve got a little over three acres. And I adore it! I don’t know if it’s because I grew up this way, but there’s some kind of peace about it when you can be out in the woods. I’m an animal lover. My next thing I want to get, with these goats, is these miniature donkeys. [Laughs] And you can’t really have those in Nashville.

Where did that love of animals come from?

Oh, I’ve always had animals. My dad’s a big animal lover. And his dad had llamas, emu, ostriches, donkeys, horses… I mean, he was always getting some kind of crazy animal. And apparently I’ve taken on that role in the family.

I think animals can bring comfort in stressful times. Is that the case for you?

Yeah, I can’t look at these little Pygmy goats and not smile. They’re just hilarious! And they make me happy. The music industry is full of ups and downs, and life in general is full of ups and downs, and it’s so easy to walk outside and be grounded in nature. It’s just being in nature and watching the animals running around, because they don’t have to think about anything. They’re just hollering for some more hay.

When you listen to Real Me now, what goes through your mind?

I’m grateful. I just listened to it and I’m grateful. I’m just as much in love with this record as I was in the process of making it. I still listen to it and get butterflies.

Photo credit: David McClister

Shaped by Blues and Country, Shemekia Copeland Launches ‘Uncivil War’ (Part 1 of 2)

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At just 41 years old, Shemekia Copeland is already an established multi-decade blues veteran. That’s what happens when you start performing as a pre-teen with your blues legend father Johnny Clyde Copeland and make your recorded debut at 18. As one of the primary hosts on SiriusXM’s BB King’s Bluesville channel, she’s also one of the genre’s highest-profile artists. A recent series of albums have both underlined Copeland as a star of the blues and pushed her beyond the walls of the genre, further into Americana and socially conscious commentary.

Her latest, Uncivil War, is another bold step forward. Recorded in Nashville with producer Will Kimbrough, the album features a wide range of guest performers, including Jason Isbell, Christone “Kingfish” Ingram, Steve Cropper, Duane Eddy, Webb Wilder and bluegrass legends Sam Bush and Jerry Douglas. She pushes boundaries not just with the instrumentation but the topics she covers, including “Clotilda’s on Fire,” which tells the story of the last slave ship to come to the U.S., and the title track, “Uncivil War,” is a plea for healing in our increasingly divided nation.

“Americana was not on my radar, but I grew up listening to country music because my dad grew up in Texas and loved it,” Copeland tells BGS. “I’d walk around the house singing Patsy Cline and Hank Williams songs that my dad loved, but I hadn’t really even heard anything about the blend of country and roots music until a few years ago, so I think it’s kind of hilarious that people are saying I’m crossing over to Americana. But I welcome all listeners!”

Editor’s Note: Read the second half of our interview with Shemekia Copeland here.

BGS: Over the past few albums, you’ve really stretched out musically and part of that is working with a wide range of musicians, many from outside the blues world. Let’s talk about a few of them on the new record, starting with two bluegrass greats, Sam Bush and Jerry Douglas.

SC: Oh my gosh! They are just really talented guys who make anything better. I just love those guys! I think my favorite part about them is that they exemplify something I love about Nashville: nobody cares about genre. It’s all about just whether or not it’s a good song and whether they want to play on it. And that’s it.

You think that’s notably different than other places? Do you find that not to be the case in New York or Chicago, for instance?

I have to say yes to that. I think it’s different in Nashville. People just want to play music. Down there, nobody ever even asks, “How much does it pay?” They’re just like, “What time do I need to show up?” It’s really about the music and Will Kimbrough, who produced the last two records, knows everyone in town and has played with most of them.

Jason Isbell is another great guest on this album and plays a great solo on “Clotilda’s on Fire.”

Yes, that one was a little different. We did a show at the Grand Ole Opry together, so Jason knew who I was when Will called and asked him to play on this song, and he was ready to do it. “Clotilda’s on Fire” is about the slave ship that they found off the coast of Alabama, and he’s from Alabama and we wanted him to play lead guitar on it. It just felt natural. It’s amazing how organically these things happen.

That song is really powerful and it’s just one of several very topical tunes on this record. That’s something different that you’ve really established. The first four songs are not about personal things like heartbreak, but heavy topics addressed in interesting ways. You have “Clotilda’s on Fire,” about the last slave ship; “Walk Until I Ride,” a modern-day Civil Rights anthem; and “Uncivil War” and “Money Makes You Ugly,” whose titles speak for themselves. Did you make a very conscious decision to do this?

Absolutely! I’ve been doing it for several records now. And I think the more confident I get, the better I get at it, and the more comfortable I get with saying what’s on my mind. Like on America’s Child, I did “Would You Take My Blood?” which was the first time I ever tackled a song about racism. On previous records, I did songs about domestic violence, date rape, things like that. But it feels more imperative than ever with everything that’s going on in this country now — and this was before COVID-19. This record was finished when all of this crap happened.

I was struck by the story about the Clotilda ever since the ship was found off the coast of Alabama. My ancestors came over here on one of those ships. I did my DNA and I’m 87 percent African, so I was very interested in that story. I wanted people to know about it and, more importantly, to understand why it still matters so much. The line in that song that’s one of the most important to me is “We’re still living with her ghost.” I want people to know that it hasn’t ended, that we’re still going through the same stuff and it’s very, very saddening. Heartbreaking, really.

Have you had any backlash to being more outspoken?

Oh, of course.

Do you care?

Not at all. You can’t satisfy everyone. The one thing that I’ve learned in my career is you’re going to piss somebody off. Not everybody’s gonna be happy with you. It’s just that simple, and it’s okay. Nobody wants their difficult history dredged up and put out in front of their face, but I’m good as long as I can look at myself in the mirror every day and be happy with myself.

Amidst all the great new original songs is a cool cover of The Rolling Stones’ “Under My Thumb.” How did you choose that one?

Doing that song was, for me, turning the tables on men. In fact, I actually hate it as a Stones song. I don’t want a man talking about a woman in that way — but it’s a great song! I don’t want to think of a woman being under anyone’s thumb, so the tables were turned… but one critic listened to it and said, “She’s talking about Black women being oppressed in this country.” I thought, “They’re making me sound so smart!” Same thing with “No Heart at All,” which a lot of people have read a lot into and interpreted as being about the president. Okay, but that goes for anyone who doesn’t have one.

That’s interesting about “Under My Thumb.” There’s a power to a woman flipping a song as Aretha did with Otis Redding’s “Respect.” That’s a completely different song sung from a woman’s perspective.

Yeah, to me, a guy singing that is just not right. Doesn’t work. Like, I couldn’t do some standard songs, as much as I love them. I would never want to sing things like “I’d Rather Go Blind” because, shit, I don’t want to go blind. You want to go? Get to steppin’! I don’t need you here. You know what I mean? It’s like this great love song but it leaves me saying, screw that. Peace out.

And you’d never think of Etta James as a pushover in any way! You were close with Koko Taylor, who turned some songs around as well.

She did! “I’m a Woman” was her turning the tables on men. I was devastated when we lost her [in 2009] because she always checked on me. She was so worried about me being in this business because of what she went through with her musicians and managers. Meanwhile, I’m out on the road with all these square guys that only drink herbal tea and don’t even smoke cigarettes. This was not her experience at all! I don’t think that she realized that it was just a different time. She had managers stealing money and disappearing into crack dens. She went through some stuff and wanted to make sure that I could avoid them.

You have a very interesting relationship with your manager, John Hahn, who is also your primary songwriter. How did that develop?

I met John when I was 8 years old. When my friends came around, I’d say, “This is Mr. John Hahn and he’s my manager.” Really, he was working with my father and I was just a little kid talking shit. But when I was about 12, he wrote me a song called “Daddy’s Little Girl” for fun. I started to go sit in with my dad. Now fast forward 33 years or so, and John and I talk every day on the phone, about everything. Having someone who knows me so well write songs is like having a tailor make you a suit. These songs are tailor-made to me, and I’m very fortunate to have that.

Your father was a great songwriter who wrote simple but profound lyrics that really resonated with me. Obviously you agree because almost every album you do one of his tunes, this time “Love Song.”

Yes, thank you! People have suggested I could do a whole record of my daddy’s songs, but this is my subtle way of doing it. I’ve already done ten of them. And, I got to tell you, I do believe that my little boy Johnny is my father reincarnated. He acts just like him. He’s three-and-a-half years old, and is so damn sure of himself. This kid knows who he is. He is arrogant in his confidence, and I always felt my father to be that way. Kind and sweet, but definitely sure of himself. You couldn’t tell him who he was, because he knew. And this little boy is all that and a bag of chips. By the way, my dad knew that I was going to be a singer the second that I came out of the womb.

That’s amazing. How?

I don’t know, but he told my mother when she was holding me in her arms, “She’s going to be a singer.”

And you always feel that way?

No! I did not have the confidence to be a singer. I never wanted to be in front of people. Audiences scared me. I’d always ask my dad how he could get up there in front of all those people and perform. That was always a problem for me.

But you did it from such a young age. I saw you when you were about 12!

I did, but I never was comfortable with it. And it’s now my favorite part. The music business sucks, but performing in front of people is the most amazing feeling in the world. That didn’t come to me until I got older, and became more confident in myself. I had to grow up. Eventually I realized this is who I am.

When was that? You put out your first record at 19.

It’s gotten better over the years. You’re always a work in progress. I started out as a child, and a certain confidence comes in when you’ve been doing it a couple of decades! You never ever stop paying your dues, but I’ve now accepted me wholeheartedly.

(Editor’s Note: Read the second half of our interview with Shemekia Copeland here.)

Photo credit: Mike White

LISTEN: Monica Rizzio, “Don’t Keep Me Up Waiting”

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Artist: Monica Rizzio
Hometown: Cape Cod, Massachusetts
Song: “Don’t Keep Me Up Waiting”
Album: Sunshine Is Free
Release Date: October 4, 2019
Label: Washashore Music

In Their Words: “Growing up on the music of Willie Nelson, Merle Haggard, Patsy Cline and Dolly Parton, my first instinct was to count beats like the the old country waltzes, 1, 2, 3… 1, 2, 3. Most of my writing the past few years has been a cocktail of one part Texas Roots, one part the miles of my boots, and I had never written a waltz before. The chorus for ‘Don’t Keep Me Up Waiting’ came to me before the rest of the song, as my husband and his buddies had a pretty good Sunday Night Irish Whiskey and Football ritual going on at the local pub last winter. They are totally harmless, were having a blast, but they are also totally clueless. This song is for them.” — Monica Rizzio

Photo credit: Joe Navas

LISTEN: Staci Griesbach, “Blue Moon of Kentucky”

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Artist: Staci Griesbach
Hometown: Los Angeles, California
Song: “Blue Moon of Kentucky”
Album: My Patsy Cline Songbook

In Their Words: “This classic country staple from Bill Monroe is one that has been covered by so many artists, we wanted to really take it in a new direction by adding more of a funk beat to it. The tempo and groove allow for the musicians to really dig in, and whenever I’m listening back to this, I find myself in the groove completely. Michele Weir helped me with the arrangement and first we started with the bass line. I knew I wanted something funky, but also that we could incorporate pedal steel, guitar and fiddle. Once we had that groove established with the bass line, we knew we had it.

“As I’m thinking about it, it could also be fun to do a little traditional bluegrass feel up front and then go into the funk or vice versa for the solos. Perhaps that’s something I’ll think about for the live performances. Again, to me, a good song can present a playground for many interpretations and that’s the joy of creativity right there at its purest form.” — Staci Griesbach

Photo credit: Kim Thiel

MIXTAPE: Jade Jackson’s Songs for Loneliness

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Loneliness is something I’ve experienced [for] as long as I can remember. Before I fully comprehended its meaning, I became familiar with it in my earliest childhood memories. Finding comfort in what we’re used to, I naturally gravitated toward music that evoked that feeling and when I started writing and creating art, it was my biggest inspiration. – Jade Jackson

Bruce Springsteen – “The River”

Similar stories have been told by artists over the years. But Springsteen’s take on loneliness is untouchable. The harmonica crying in the intro sets the tone for this genius tale of faded love.

Sheryl Crow – “The Difficult Kind”

This song blends loneliness and strength. Owning up, recognizing you’re the reason for your loneliness is tough to face. The pain in her voice along with the electric fiddle combine to tug at your heart as the lyrics capture an honest look inside.

Mojave 3 – “Yer Feet”

This song reminds me of hopelessness, heartache, and the dull pain that foreshadows lost love.

John Fullbright – “High Road”

I remember bursting into tears the first time I heard the climax of this song. The story unfolds beautifully and illustrates true love ending too soon.

Hank Williams – “I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry”

Hank Williams spun in our record player more than any other artist growing up. It’s a song I loved when I was young, because of its imagery, and as I grew older I related to it in a whole new way.

Violent Femmes – “Good Feeling”

“Vague sketch of a fantasy
Laughing at the sunrise
Like he’s been up all night
Ooh slippin’ and slidin’
What a good time but now
Have to find a bed
That can take this weight”

Enough said.

Townes Van Zandt – “Waiting Around to Die”

Townes Van Zandt is one of my all-time favorite songwriters, and in my opinion, the king of sad songs. Behind the vocals the guitar picking, drums, and harmonica in this song sound like a drunken heartache. The Be Good Tanyas have a rendition of this song that I find equally despondent.

Johnny Cash – “Hurt”

Trent Reznor’s song “Hurt” covered by Cash takes my breath away. Loneliness often leads to a numbness begging to be broken by self-inflicted pain. This song is a raw tribute to wanting to disappear.

Patsy Cline – “Walkin’ After Midnight”

This is the perfect lonesome song, with its desperation and hopelessness accompanied by pedal steel.

Mazzy Star – “Fade Into You”

I love how poetic these lyrics are. They evoke a yearning for emotional connection; walking through depression wishing to be loved by someone.

Jade Jackson – “Bridges”

I wrote this song during one of my loneliest times of my life.

Jade Jackson – “Loneliness”

This song was inspired by realizing you don’t have to be alone to feel lonely.

Photo credit: Matt Bizer
Editor’s Note: Jade Jackson released her new album, Wilderness, on June 28.

BGS 5+5: Orville Peck

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Artist: Orville Peck
Hometown: Unknown
Latest Album: Pony

What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?

I think country music to me is about storytelling. I really tried to stay true to that on this album by making each song stand as its own story, while keeping the subject matter really personal. So anytime I’m singing one of these songs on stage and I look out in the audience and catch someone who’s singing along to the words or crying — that’s an incredible moment for me. Not just because they are reacting to my story, but because in that exact moment they are also sharing their same story with me. That exchange…there’s nothing like that in the world.

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

I grew up loving books, films and theatre. I think the iconography of old cowboy novels and Westerns clearly had a lasting effect but I also loved anything that focused on outcasts. Films by David Lynch, Gus Van Sant, John Waters. I always loved the villains or the sidekicks way more than the heroes.

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

I just always knew I wanted to be a performer since I was really little. I was a lonely kid with a huge imagination so I was always making something or singing or playing my dad’s guitar. Later I would train as a ballet dancer, work as a professional actor, go on tour playing drums and guitar in punk bands — no matter what I was doing I never considered anything other than performing.

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

It’s funny because I’m actually not a very technical musician. Every instrument I play, I taught myself and I tend to approach all art, even music, from a visual place. So oftentimes I can visualize what a song looks like, how it feels, how I want other people to feel listening to it, but it can maybe take me awhile to translate that into sound. “Hope to Die” took so many tweaks to sound like what I saw in my head, I think I probably drove the engineer crazy.

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

My live band usually goes out to warm up before me so I’m often the last one left to go on stage. It sounds kinda corny but I really try to take that time to focus on what the songs mean to me and to not feel too conscious about the performance. I think all the years of being a stage performer made me feel like I had to stifle anxiety or nerves underneath a performance and kind of put on a “show face” but I actually try to keep things a bit more connected now. I’m a lot more accepting that if I’m nervous or anxious — that’s just part of the show that night.

Photo credit: Carlos Santolalla

Michaela Anne, ‘Easier Than Leaving’

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In country music, a "weeper" is a real thing: a song that's somewhere between a ballad and a hopeless confessional, that places more emphasis on a forlorn guitar and rare, raw lyricism than showboat vocals (though they're often part of the package, too). Think Hank Williams' and Patsy Cline's saddest moments or, later, Townes Van Zandt's — jewels like "I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry" that struck a perfect balance on the Southern scale with barn-burning honky-tonk, keeping it all delicately teetering in line.

But then the '90s happened and, for better or worse, ballads got the Faith Hill and Shania Twain treatment — notes hit the ceiling and power bombast replaced subtle solemnity. Simplicity, this was not. Luckily, there's been a new bubbling interest in bringing back the genre's delicate, melancholy roots: most of Daniel Romano's Come Cry with Me, Andrew Combs' "Too Stoned to Cry," Margo Price's "Hands of Time," and even Miranda Lambert's "Holding On to You." Now Michaela Anne, on her sophomore album, Bright Lights and the Fame, has an LP full of them — heartbreakers so grounded in self-awareness that they never sound anything but authentic, yet never too indulgent to ring just like diary scribbles.

One of the LP's best is "Easier Than Leaving," which opens with a snapshot in time of a fading relationship: "Sitting at the table, back's against the wall / Coffee's getting colder as I wait for you to talk." Who hasn't felt that tension, taken a last gasp at peaceful air before they fully breathed in the inevitable reality they knew was coming? With a clear quiver, Anne, who moved to Nashville from New York City two years ago, reinvents the lost age of those weepers in the way someone equally schooled in both the forebears — like Williams and Cline — and its modern folk interpreters — like Gillian Welch and Conor Oberst who carried the emotive torch when mainstream Music Row was too busy belting — might. "Easier Than Leaving" might not change her lover's mind and force them to stay, but it will just continue to help put soft, strummed country sadness back on the map.

On Love and Loss: An Interview with Tami Neilson

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The Venn diagram crossing "traditional musicians poised for breakout in 2016" and "based in New Zealand" yields, unsurprisingly, only one name: Tami Neilson. Gifted with a voice that summons Patsy Cline's ghost, hair high enough to make Dolly proud, and a style lifted straight from the Saturday night stage at the Grand Ole Opry, Neilson's most recent records — the just-released-in-Canada Dynamite and New Zealand-only Don't Be Afraid — time machine back to the era of classic country with a few sidesteps into Sun Records-style rock 'n' roll, blues, and soul.

If this all seems unlikely from a nation whose biggest musical exports have been Lorde, Crowded House, and, er, Flight of the Conchords, that's because it is. But Neilson, who has won multiple New Zealand Music Awards, as well as the prestigious APRA Silver Scroll for songwriting (in 2014, the year after Lorde won), has paid her dues on the long, dusty trail.

Born in Canada, Neilson spent most of her tweens and teens touring relentlessly across North America as part of the Neilson Family, an old-fashioned gospel family band featuring her late father Ron, her mother Betty, herself, and two younger brothers — Jay and Todd. Having moved to New Zealand in 2007 for love and marriage, and, eventually two young sons, it's only now that Neilson is making her first steps to plug back in to her past life.

I want to start with an "Origins of Tami Neilson" question. From a young age, you were part of the Neilson Family, a touring family band. Would it be fair to say you had a nomadic youth?

We were just a pack of gypsies, really, the Neilsons. I look back now as a parent, I think, by taking their kids on the road full-time, my parents were either the bravest people I know or the craziest. But we definitely grew up on the road full-time and that was normal to me. Being in the same house with a dog and a white picket fence and the same friends your whole life, that was just so exotic to me.

Did you used to play in prisons with your family?

We did. That was when we were quite young. Mom and dad would bring us in, and Todd, my youngest brother, was probably four or five. I would have been about nine or 10. We would go in and dad would do his comedy, and he and mum would do a talk in the prison, and then we would get up and sing gospel songs as a family. I can remember my mom saying to my little brother, "Todd, when mommy and daddy are on stage, you stay with …" the Salvation Army lady or whoever had brought us in. "You don't go anywhere by yourself." And without fail they'd be onstage singing, and mom would see him get up and go up to a prisoner: "I need to go potty." She'd be mortified. So there were some heart-stopping moments on the prison performances.

Is it true there was a point where you and your brothers had to busk to earn money to survive?

Yep. In Midland, Ontario. On the main street. To make money to eat.

I know the town of Midland. It's not a music-friendly cultural hotbed. I can't see that being a gainful experience.

No, it was not gainful. But it did the trick for what we needed, at the time. At that time, we had just come off the road after a really bad management experience — we had basically lost everything due to our management and went back to my mom's hometown to lick our wounds, as a family. My dad plunged into a deep depression because he held the full weight of responsibility on his shoulders, and we all started looking for jobs. At that time, he didn't want to pick up a guitar; he didn't want to be anywhere near music because he felt that he'd failed us so abysmally. So my brothers and I went out on the main street every day and busked. Fifty bucks was a good day. We'd put it on the kitchen table and give it to mom and we'd get groceries until we could all find jobs.

If that isn't an authentic country music tale of woe, I don't know what is.

That's country. It doesn't get more country than that.

Do you have a band because of an earthquake?

That's actually not too far from the truth. I hadn't thought of it that way, but yes, I definitely have a producer [Delaney Davidson, Dynamite co-producer and part of the duo Delaney Davidson & Marlon Williams]. I was on tour when the earthquake in Christchurch hit. I knew the Eastern, who are a band from Lyttelton, and the venue we were supposed to play at was flattened. It had crumbled and caved in. There were just bits still standing and my poster was still in the window.

A few days later, I called Adam [McGrath] from the Eastern and said, "I'm supposed to be doing a show there" — of course, nobody's going to shows across the entire country because everybody's devastated by this news — and they were doing these pop-up acoustic shows. There was no power at all in the city. They're doing shows in parks around the city to boost the morale and lift the spirits of all the people who were living in mud and crumbled ruins. So I got in touch with him and said, "We're going to be in town, we've got instruments, let us know where you're playing and we'll come play with you." He texted me the details of the park they were going to be playing in, so we rolled up and I'm like, "Are we in the right place?" and then I saw this tall, skinny beautiful man with a white cowboy hat on looking like the ghost of Hank Williams. It was Marlon Williams (who has guitar and vocal credits on Dynamite), and next to him was a very serious, grumpy-looking guy with piercing blue eyes, and that was Delaney Davidson. We went to a barbecue after the show and really connected there. It's one of those things that's really burned on to your memory when it's in the midst of something so surreal.

To do the music you do in the style you do it, it's a very conscious decision. You've got a very traditional image, but it feels very authentic. How do you define the music you make?

The music side of it, it's Americana. It's not just country, it's not just blues, it's not just soul. But so many of those artists weren't. Johnny Cash, Elvis, the Staples … all of these people were just a hotbed of all of those genres.

Speaking of Johnny Cash, did you tour with him?

We opened for him at the Merritt Mountain Music Festival.

Did you get to talk to him or anything?

There's a story to that: The night before the gig, we had had a fire in our motorhome. Our motorhome caught on fire when we were driving to the gig. We had finished a gig in Kelowna, British Columbia, and got in the car to drive to the festival the next morning, so we were going to drive to Merritt that night. After a gig, if we were driving in evening, I would always change into my jammies in the motorhome to be comfy.

So we're on the road and these people are signaling to roll down the window, and we all thought that they had seen the show so we're waving back like this big happy family in the window. Dad rolls down the window and they're like, "You're on fire!" And dad's like, "Thank you, thank you." "No, you are on FIRE!" And we looked out and there was black smoke just billowing out the back of the motorhome. So we all got out and all of our clothes were ruined. Our instruments were stored underneath so there was smoke damage — they stunk, but they were still playable. All I had was my pajamas.

We rolled up to the festival the next morning, they gave us all festival t-shirts, and I opened for Johnny Cash in my pajamas and a t-shirt. So, yeah, my dad and my brother chatted with him, but I was too completely humiliated by the fact I was wearing my pajamas to talk to him. I was a teenager and you're just so concerned about being cool. I was just totally mortified. Of course now you're like, "Who cares?! Go back!" But when you're 18 and you're mortified, nothing matters except the fact I was wearing pajamas.

Is it true Roy Orbison held you as a baby?

Yes, and it actually makes me cry that I don't have the photo of it. That would be the cover of not just one album, but of every album I've ever put out. My dad was playing in the same venue as Roy and dad said, "Can I please get a photo of you with my daughter Tami?" Dad said Roy just lit up holding me. I can still remember the photos in our photo album. I was in this little white dress and this little bonnet. Then I took them to school for show-and-tell when I was a kid and stupidly lost them. I can still see them in my mind but it breaks my heart.

Dynamite has some songs specifically inspired by the birth of your children, whereas your newest album, Don't Be Afraid, revolves around the death of your father. In the last few years, you've experienced a really heavy, really full cycle of life.

It's definitely a lot of living in just a couple years. So I think that impacts so deeply on you as a person that you're never the same, so my music will never be the same. It will always be colored by, not necessarily grief, but the experiences of the death, of parenthood, and all those things. But love and loss are what country music is about, right?

And earthquakes and prisons and motorhome fires?

Oh my God. When you put it that way, I'm going to be writing about it 'til the day I die. I've got so much material. It's always a little bit daunting to think about what's next, especially because the latest album is something that's so deeply me and exposes me and it's the most vulnerable I've ever been. So you can't think about that too much and, when it's the next step, then you just take it. Otherwise, you get sucked up by earthquakes and fires and prisons.

Photo credit: Justyn Denney Strother

LISTEN: Jacob Tovar, ‘One Track Minded Baby’

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A lot of artists employ a throwback sound when making their records, but not all of them have a voice that naturally matches up to it. Not so for Oklahoma's Jacob Tovar. His voice sounds like it should be crackling out of an AM radio or a jukebox between Patsy Cline and Kitty Wells. This guy's brand of classic country is capital “T” Throwback and with good reason.

Tovar grew up on a farm in Perry, OK, working the land and, quite literally, riding the range. An honest-to-goodness singing cowboy in an era of frat boy wannabes, Tovar pursued his musical potential after a move to Tulsa landed him in the local honky tonk scene. Now, he and his band can see their Jacob Tovar and the Saddle Tramps eponymous debut album just out on the horizon. The second single is "One Track Minded Baby."

“I wrote 'One Track Minded Baby' about my baby girl — she was about one-and-a-half at the time. I take care of her during the day, and she is insistent upon being in my space every second. She was following me around to the point that I couldn't even go to the restroom alone, and this song was inspired by those moments spent with her.

Jacob Tovar & the Saddle Tramps drops on August 28 via Horton Records.

 

Photo by Phil Clarkin