Caroline Spence in Conversation With Lori McKenna

Caroline Spence and Lori McKenna are both lauded for writing songs that cut straight to the heart. In conversation, it’s clear they also share admiration and a generosity of spirit, offering insight into how a life built around family can both coexist with and deepen a life in music. The two met with BGS via Zoom to discuss Spence’s new record, Heart Go Wild, produced by Peter Groenwald, Mark Campbell, and Spence herself.

As Spence charts her first year of motherhood, McKenna reflects on building a catalog of piercingly honest songs while raising five children of her own. Together, they explore the mysteries of publishing, the influence of mentors like Mary Gauthier, and the butterfly effect of one songwriter’s choices on another’s path.

Their exchange drifts from songwriting craft to the role of co-writers in self-discovery into the bigger questions of life: how family and creativity intertwine, how community ripples outward, and how songs become offerings that carry meaning long after they leave the writer’s hands.

What emerges is a portrait of two artists at different points along similar paths, each proving that family life and creative life are not competing forces, but intertwined sources of inspiration and strength.

I know you two have a lot to talk about, but I’d love to start, if we can, with how you know each other? Did you know of each other musically first, and then how did you come to know each other personally?

Lori McKenna: I think the first time we met might have been at breakfast that time?

Caroline Spence: Right. I think that was another Bluegrass Situation connection. I think that was the first time I met you.

I had a good friend from summer camp and we would often trade mixes. She put one of your songs on a CD for me. I had already found Patty Griffin and was having my singer-songwriter love affair. That led me to The Kitchen Tapes, which led me to everything else. And I distinctly remember when Faith Hill cut “Stealing Kisses” and I thought, “Wait, that’s how that works?” I didn’t know what publishing was. I didn’t know how music worked in that way and that became a new little baby dream of mine that I carried with me: to write a song that was good enough that maybe somebody else would want to sing it. I feel like I would not be aware of the job that I have had I not found you, Lori.

LM: That is really cool. I remember not knowing anything about publishing, how it works and all that stuff, too. And I still feel like I know just a tiny bit more.

CS: I know, totally. It’s still a mystery.

LM: We were at a wedding over the weekend and my son Chris, who’s a writer in town, has his first single that he co-wrote that’s going to radio. So we were singing songs and at the end of the night, my brother was like, “Chris sold the song!” I’m like, “It’s not called selling the song.” He’s like, “Well, how does it work?” Nobody knows.

CS: Yeah, nobody knows. They just stream it now into the abyss.

LM: The only reason I knew anything was because of Mary Gauthier. I did know people who had moved to Nashville before Mary, but because I’m in the Boston area, they came back saying, “Yep, it’s very different.” It is very different in Nashville. I didn’t know anyone who had stayed before Mary, you know? I love being inspired by other people. I love it that that’s how life works, that you see someone else do something, and you’re like, “Wait! I can do that! At least I can try!”

CS: I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately, the butterfly effect, and how that happens within our community. Like, if Mary hadn’t done this, then this wouldn’t have happened for you, and if you hadn’t done that, then I wouldn’t have known about this, and I’ve been thinking about that as I’ve been in this creative community for a decade now. There’s so much stuff that you never know your little ripple is doing.

LM: The ripple is such a good word. It’s such a ripple, isn’t it? It’s crazy. We’re really lucky. I know you just had a baby, but the number of people that come up to me and ask, “How did you do this with kids?” Nobody told me that I couldn’t. I know stories of other artists that someone’s told, “You can’t do this and have a family at the same time.” I’ve heard those stories, but nobody ever told me that.

It didn’t seem impossible at the time. But now my son Chris has a baby. I look at them and I’m like, “Wait, how does anybody do that ever? How does anybody have a baby?”

CS: Man, some days it really feels that way. Most days it feels that way. No one ever said that to me either, but those are absolutely the cultural messages you absorb. There are certain gigs I might not get because of my familial obligations, but you just make your choices. And I’m not building my life around what I “might get.” I want to build my life around what I know I want to have. I just feel like all of that is gonna feed your person. You can’t starve yourself of these big, beautiful growth opportunities for some sort of potential. My life is bigger than my career, and I would like it to be as big as possible.

LM: And it’s crazy, right?

CS: Yeah, it’s nuts. Absolutely nuts. The fact that I got a shower this morning is a big win.

LM: Well, that and the fact you’re putting a record out!

CS: Yeah, yeah, and the record!

LM: You did good.

CS: It’s a little bit cuckoo, but it’s been done for a while. A lot of the heavy lifting was done even before I was pregnant, so that was an accidentally smart idea and we’ve just had to be strategic about everything else. I feel like there’ll be a lot of people who assume this is a record about marriage and family, which it’s not. I’m sure I will have that, but this feels like a record that’s more about the chaos before I decided I could do all that.

LM: From the minute I knew who you were, I’ve always loved the way that you express your feelings in such a way that makes other people be like, “Oh! I’ve felt like that! This song makes me realize that I’m not alone in feeling that.”

There’s something in the way that you write that is like arms are reaching out, but they’re also like, “I know you feel this way, too and it’s okay that we all feel this way.” I feel like that’s why music exists. For someone pulling over their car and being like, “Oh my god, okay, I’m not gonna die today because I just heard the song!” It is the biggest reason, the service of songwriting, as Mary Gauthier says. You don’t do it consciously, but it just is your way of doing it. It just seems so innate in the way you write.

CS: That’s so kind and means a lot to me, because that’s really how I feel about it. It’s been a progression. I started writing because I needed to get these hard things out when I was a younger person and as I started putting those out there, I would have conversations where someone would say, “I feel that way, too.” That kind of cemented in me to keep writing from that place, because that’s what music did, and still does for me.

What is personal is universal. I feel like someone smart said that before I did, but it’s so true. And Mary’s perspective of songs as a service resonates so deeply with me. There’s a quote I read when I was doing The Artist Way a few years ago that says, “The artist has to be humble, for he is essentially a channel.” To let the divine in, whatever it is, to flow through you, you have to get small and get in your humanity.

And when I’m feeling really in my head and when I don’t want to perform or I’m feeling self-critical, I think about what I’m doing as an offering, and it makes me feel better and more inside what I’m trying to do.

LM: I love the offering.

CS: People want to feel understood. As a listener, you want to find your soundtrack for your hard time or your good time.

LM: Well, congratulations on doing all this, because the record’s beautiful, as usual. You co-produced this whole thing, right? Did you always co-produce? Because this record seems, and I hate to use the word “rockier,” but it feels like it moves a little bit more. Was that intentional?

CS: I think a lot of that might sort of be a songwriting change for me. I feel like I’ve gotten better at translating what I’m hearing into the actual thing, so I think that’s a skill I’ve slowly developed from my slow folk songs for years.

LM: The transition is so beautiful. With the song “Soft Animal,” if I wrote that song, it would be just the slowest. It wouldn’t move the way [it does].

CS: It totally started on the page, too. It was very much like a poem. Sometimes I sit down to a piece of writing, if I’m going through my ideas, and if something’s sort of dead on the page, I’ll just start playing. That one was one where it sort of just came out that way. The clash of “Soft Animal” to something that felt really thrashy, the irony of that felt celebratory to me, and it was fun. That’s one of my favorites production-wise on the record.

LM: Oh, that’s great. When I work with a producer, you can tell. You can listen to the record and know that this is definitely different. But there’s been this really consistent line with you the whole time, which is kind of remarkable when you think about how much you’ve changed in life and as a person over the years. There’s this vibe that really just comes through where you can tell that you are a big piece of the production of everything.

CS: Thank you for saying that. That was actually a dealbreaker thing for me for this record, that I would only work with people who would give me a production credit, because I felt like over the years – and not to discredit the people who are credited as producers on my albums – but because of who they are as producers, it was collaborative, and there were times when I was making sure that my vision got to the finish line in spite of their initial instincts. I didn’t know it mattered to me until maybe I’d read some press that would bring that person’s name into it and it made me feel a certain way.

Producers are important because I think it’s really helpful to get outside of yourself and your own instincts, and to be challenged. But sometimes what’s helpful is to be challenged, and then you know exactly how firmly you feel about something.

For this record, I really wanted to know that it was collaborative from the jump. That felt incredible, and I worked with two people who had the best energy and a healthy sense of ego, and it was just really fun.

LM: That’s awesome. You come through. I’m exactly the opposite, because I can’t stand being in the studio.

CS: I understand that as well.

LM: I don’t know how you do it, because I literally only hear the song and what it sounds like when I sit at my kitchen table and sing it. People kept telling me over the years that I’d start to hear parts. So I am a person who needs producers… I’m just like, “Here are the songs.”

CS: Yeah, I’ve done that so many times, I’ve given a pile of songs and been like, “I don’t know what I made. What’s speaking to you?”

LM: Well, this morning I was listening to the album again, and I thought, “Oh, she’s gonna produce other people’s records someday.”

CS: That’s very kind and, honestly, a thought I hadn’t really had for myself, but I really did enjoy it. I think if I ever do that, it’s gonna be because of the experience I just had with these people that built up my confidence in that space. It was a lot of fun.

LM: You have this beautiful voice. I have an unpretty voice and you have a very pretty voice that you know how to use really well. You can say the hard things with that beautifully well-orchestrated production and then your beautiful voice, and it still makes you feel all the feels, versus I always feel like no matter what I sing, it’s gonna sound sad.

CS: I feel like a lot of the time I try to be like, “I’m not so sweet,” and grit up the production or avoid certain songs. I was self-conscious about it, which I think may be some internalized misogyny, because I have such a high female voice.

Speaking of songs being of service, babies and children come out singing, you know? It’s such a natural thing to do. We’re meant to do it. It’s joyous; it’s a release. And knowing the way it feels in my body to perform or really sing has changed the way I perceive my own voice.

LM: It is the first thing anybody knows how to do.

CS: Your voice has this wisdom to it. It kind of doesn’t matter what you’re singing; it sounds like you believe what you’re saying and you trust what you’re saying. You have this earnestness to your voice. If you were singing “Red Solo Cup” I’d be like, “That song means a lot to me.”

LM: I actually was at a round at the Bluebird [Cafe] with the Warren Brothers a couple of weeks ago, and they sang “Red Solo Cup.” I am so jealous of songs like that, because I could never write them.

In terms of writing for you, how have things changed since the baby?

CS: I haven’t had the same amount of headspace. My publisher held a sync camp and my mom came to town to help. I wrote for days straight and that felt really good to get back at it. As far as writing by myself, that’s just now kind of coming back.

LM: Is your son enjoying you playing the guitar?

CS: It’s a pacifying thing. I could put him in his playpen if I want to and mess around on guitar, and he’s super happy to listen. The other day, I was practicing for this Springsteen cover night that I got asked to do and I just started kind of riffing around. The flow started and that felt really good. I was like, “Oh, okay, it’s still in there.” I just hadn’t had the circumstances to put myself in the position where I’m visited by that energy. Being in creative spaces with others has been really nice right now, too, to slowly rebuild.

LM: When my kids were little, I actually wrote a lot. They all shared a bedroom and, after dinner, my husband would work on the house while I tried to sing them songs – sometimes terrible ones – or make up songs while they fell asleep. That routine gave me more time to write than I expected.

Two of my kids are songwriters now, though at the time they probably went to sleep just to get away from me singing the same line over and over. But honestly, if I hadn’t had that hour and a half every night with them, I don’t think I would have learned how to write. I wasn’t planning to be a musician. My children gave me the time and space to discover that.

By the time I had five kids, I started doing open mics. I never would have had the courage to get up there if I didn’t have my kids. They were my world, so if people didn’t like what I did on stage, I could always just go home and sing in the living room with them. That gave me the confidence to try.

CS: That balance is so important and it’s hard to reverse-engineer for people. If you move somewhere completely career-focused, you can get lost in that and miss the balance of family and partnership. I feel like any sense of longevity in life or career needs that.

For me, I’ve realized that to be a happy, well-rounded person – good partner, good friend – I need a rich family and personal life. Otherwise, my career just eats me alive. I think the reason you’ve been able to sustain your career and create a catalog of songs full of humanity is that you’ve always had that balance.

LM: Exactly. And it’s not just a woman’s thing. I know men who do it, too. But when you put family first, you have to say no to some things. You can’t always do that week-long tour, for example. But the things you say no to fade away; you don’t remember them. You only remember what you did. Instead, you stayed home and sat in the backyard with your kids and that’s the summer you wrote that one song that you’re still singing years later.

Love is supposed to be the thing you surrender to. It just opens up the universe wider. I’ve seen it happen again and again; even songwriters who know exactly what they want in their twenties, after falling in love or having a child, the world opens up in new ways.

CS: That’s making me emotional. That’s exactly where I am right now. I feel like my life is starting in a really good way. My career feels like it is starting over again. It is making me recalibrate how I want to show up in the world. And it’s freeing to have my compass aligned around my family. It feels like a new beginning. It’s really beautiful.

LM: That’s exactly it. Parenthood gives you a stream of love you hadn’t experienced before and it changes everything creatively. For me, it didn’t really happen until my fifth child, but it always happens. The universe shows up when you do something hard, like having a baby. I remember putting out a record in May, right around the birth of my son, David. By Thanksgiving, I had Faith Hill cuts. It’s like the universe says, “We should remind her that she gets to keep doing this.”

CS: That really resonates.

LM: I always listen to the last song on a record first.

CS: I love that because some of my favorite songs on your records are the last songs.

LM: When I heard “Where the Light Gets Through,” that song is such an offering, such a service. I don’t know if you want to talk about where that song came from, but years from now you are still going to have people tapping you on the shoulder saying “thank you” for that song.

CS: We’d made the record basically and we couldn’t figure out the last one. I said to the producers, “What if we write this one together?” Mark and Peter started building the track. I was going through ideas and I’d been writing a lot about my brother-in-law’s passing away. It just so happened that something I’d written fit almost exactly word for word and we shaped it from there. It couldn’t have just been me on that record, because it needed to feel lighter than I wanted it to.

LM: I know exactly what you are talking about. That’s why I love co-writing. You get perspectives that you could never create alone. Sometimes you can’t do it by yourself, and the song only exists because of that.

I’ve had that experience with Liz [Rose] and Hillary [Lindsey]. I had a song I’d been trying to write for a month by myself and I was so mad I couldn’t. I showed it to them and Liz was writing and singing it immediately. Hillary was like, “Do you know this song?”

CS: Do you feel like that is possible because you know each other so well that they can meet you where your brain is?

LM: Absolutely. And that’s another thing I love about co-writing. You fall in love with each other so quickly in the room. And when you trust yourself with someone, you can say the dumbest thing and it might turn into the smartest thing. I rarely sit with someone who doesn’t make me feel like I can speak my mind. With Liz and Hillary, Liz can read my mind and Hillary is like a musical and emotional genius. They both are.

Parenthood also gives you that focus. You don’t have all the time in the world, so you go straight to the point.

CS: I’ve heard many parents say they become more productive because they have to think differently about time and energy. I feel that now, with my baby being a little more self-sufficient.

LM: Exactly. And think of all the things you can do since having a kid! You weren’t opening drawers with your feet before, were you! Well, I love what you do, and I was genuinely happy when I heard you were pregnant. It’s a good thing for artists to step into family life.

CS: There’s a class of women my age choosing to have families now, balancing careers – it feels like a statement in all the best ways.

LM: Parenthood changes your perspective. You look back and wonder how you managed everything, but the flow and the creative life meet you there. You make the things you have to make because that’s what we’re here for.

CS: Man, there’s a lot of stuff I needed to hear today that you just spouted out. Thank you for spending time with this record.

LM: Congratulations. The record is so good. I hope the biggest challenge with it is all the things you have to say no to.

CS: And I won’t remember them, like you said.


Explore more of our Artist of the Month content on Caroline Spence here.

Photo Credit: Caroline Walker Evans

Dierkscography

In 1994, a not yet 20-year-old Dierks Bentley threw all caution to the wind when he packed up his dorm room at the University of Vermont with hopes to never return. Bentley’s relocation would not only forever change the course of his life – it would go on to catalyze his tremendous impact on roots music at large.

After a trip with his father to Nashville made quite the impression, Bentley decided to complete his college degree at Vanderbilt, dedicating his studies to English (the major most proximal to songwriting). After graduating, Bentley continued to foster both his musical education and career; his day job entailed archiving old country performances at The Nashville Network (in fact, his diligent field work even got him banned temporarily from the Grand Ole Opry), while his evenings were filled with bar gigs and songwriting sessions. After five years of grunt work, 2003 saw Bentley release a self-titled album with Capitol Records. His first single, “What Was I Thinkin’,” made waves on the country charts. Since then, Bentley has been responsible for the release of 20 No. 1 country singles and 10 additional studio albums, the latest of which, Broken Branches, arrived in June.

While Bentley’s career has seen major commercial country success, his deep respect for expansion and immersion has made him a beloved fixture within bluegrass, as well.

Of his instrumental move to Nashville, Bentley has shared, “I moved to Nashville in 1994 – I was trying to find that seed of truth, that authenticity, that thing ‘country music’ that I had in my head. And I got here and it was definitely different than I expected it to be. It’s big business, a lot of money.

“Luckily, for me, I found a little bar called the Station Inn where bluegrass music existed – and I found what I was looking for. Just the sound of a five-piece bluegrass band blew my mind. And they’re not trying to take meetings all the time and meet producers, and get their foot in the door. It’s funny, I moved to Nashville looking for country music, but I found bluegrass.”

Whether it’s his proclivity for cross-genre conversation, songwriting prowess, or patinaed tenor delivery, Dierks has proved himself a mainstay favorite for country, Americana, and bluegrass fans – here at Good Country and BGS, and beyond. In honor of his recent album release and his huge Broken Branches tour with Zach Top and the Band Loula concluding this month, we present you with our Dierkscography, a non-comprehensive compilation of more than 15 songs meant to show off some of our favorite Dierks gems from across genres sampled from the many years of his remarkable career.

“Never You” featuring Miranda Lambert, Broken Branches (2025)

Dierks’s new album, Broken Branches, arrived fresh off the press with a slew of impressive collaborators, from Riley Green to Stephen Wilson Jr. Dierks fondly calls the record a “special” display of “making music in the studio with our buddies.” Country giant and longtime collaborator Miranda Lambert joins Bentley on this banjo-driven track, with the pair’s velvety duet vocals imbuing tenderness and warmth into one of the album’s only love songs.

“High Note” featuring Billy Strings, Gravel & Gold (2023)

This rip-roaring tune off of Bentley’s tenth studio album features a whole handful of bluegrass greats. Not only does Billy’s high tenor soar above Dierks gravelly tones during choruses, his famous flatpicking joins the likes of Sam Bush, Bryan Sutton, and Jerry Douglas for a superjam ending.

Of the collaboration, Dierks recalls, “Bryan Sutton first tipped me off to Billy Strings about seven years ago, mentioning that the future of bluegrass was in good hands. I was totally blown away the first time I saw him. I’ve cut songs like these since my first record, and I knew I wanted to have him on this one, I’m such a huge fan. It was a lot of fun to have him, Jerry, Sam, and Bryan all passing licks around – having them all on this record means a lot to me personally.”

“American Girl” (2024)

Who doesn’t love an Americana “American Girl”? Bentley delivers this country-fied Tom Petty classic alongside some BGS favorites, including Chris Eldridge on guitar and Noam Pikelny on banjo. Dierks reprised the hit single joined by Bronwyn Keith-Hynes, Sierra Hull, and Molly Tuttle on stage at the 2024 CMA Awards, bringing down the house.

“For As Long As I Can Remember,” Broken Branches (2025)

The country canon has seen its fair share of heartache, murder, trains, and drinking. Also on his latest release, “For As Long As I Can Remember” shirks these motifs in favor of something a little more wholesome – a warm and adoring ballad dedicated to the strength of enduring familial bond. An ode to his brother and father, Dierks reminds that respect and love can be country, too.

“Train Travelin’,” Dierks Bentley (2003)

With many of his nascent Nashville days edified by nights at the Station Inn and in the surrounding bluegrass scene, iconic bluegrass family the McCourys quickly became repeat collaborators for Dierks. Their features pepper many of his earlier albums, dating all the way back to his debut self-titled release in 2003. “Train Travelin’” would become the first of many, with other gems such as Good Man Like Me (Modern Day Drifter, 2005) and Last Call featuring Ronnie McCoury (Feel That Fire, 2009) dotting the road to Bentley’s eventual bluegrass-centric album, Up On The Ridge.

“Up On The Ridge,” Up On The Ridge (2010)

The titular track off of Bentley’s bluegrass-inspired album is thrumming with energy, both quickly-paced and haunting with its descending melodic hook. Up On The Ridge was Bentley’s fifth studio album, featuring a star-studded list of bluegrass collaborators including Alison Krauss, Punch Brothers, Chris Stapleton, Tim O’Brien, Sam Bush, and beyond. Del McCoury even joins forces with Bentley and Punch Brothers to deliver a deliciously grassified cover of U2’s “Pride (in the Name of Love)” further evidencing the album as a culmination of both tradition and innovation.

“Freeborn Man,” (Live, 2025)

Another of our favorite timeless covers, Dierks has been adorning his Broken Branches Tour this summer with his vigorous take on “Freeborn Man.” This rendition includes a fiery feature by Zach Top, nearly toppling the stage with talent.

“Hoedown for My Lowdown Rowdy Ways” featuring Dierks Bentley, Lowdown Hoedown (Jason Carter, 2022)

With Jason Carter fiddling his heart out on Dierks’ records since 2003, it’s of course a polite roots custom for Dierks to return the favor. Released as part of Carter’s second solo album, Lowdown Hoedown, “Hoedown for My Lowdown Rowdy Ways” has Dierks singing harmony and strumming away on the bluesy breakdown. Lowdown Hoedown also features a tender Jamie Hartford number, “Good Things Happen,” that Dierks Bentley covered on his 2005 album Modern Day Drifter, yet another frame of conversation between the two artists.

“Prodigal Son’s Prayer” featuring The Grascals, Long Trip Alone (2006)

This acoustic tune features the bluegrass sensibilities of the Grascals, a long-running group lauded for their instrumental prowess. The song loosely follows the parable of the prodigal son, ultimately centering themes of repair and reconciliation. The song also features the stomps and hums of incarcerated individuals from Charles Bass Correctional Complex, who had been in Bentley’s producer’s Bible studies course at the time.

“Free and Easy (Down The Road I Go),” Long Trip Alone (2006)

From the same release, this breezy banger remains a hallmark of Bentley’s career, even after nearly two decades since it dropped. The fifth of his singles to top Billboard’s Hot Country charts, “Free and Easy (Down The Road I Go)” lures in listeners with its fast-paced country twang and life-affirming sentiment.

“Beautiful World” featuring Patty Griffin, Feel That Fire (2009)

No stranger to incredible collaborators, Dierks Bentley asked iconic folk and country singer-songwriter Patty Griffin to accompany him on this track, gushing, “Her voice is one of a kind and she’s such an important figure in the American music scene… She’s just amazing. And so I asked her.”

The result is a tender homage to the beauties of the world, largely inspired by his wife, who was pregnant with their daughter at the time of the song’s conception. “You hear people sometimes say, ‘Man, I can’t imagine bringing a child into this world. It’s so bad.’ That’s just such a negative outlook,” Dierks says. “You cannot live your life with that viewpoint of the world. Yes, there are a lot of things that are wrong, but it is a beautiful world, and you need to find the positive in it.”

“Heart of a Lonely Girl,” Home (2012)

From Bentley’s sixth studio album, Home, comes this spirited, emotionally deep number. The narrative song was penned by the infinitely talented Charlie Worsham, who would go on to join Bentley’s touring band a decade later – and you can currently see him on stage each night during the Broken Branches tour.

“Trip Around the Sun,” featuring Dierks Bentley, I Built a World (Bronwyn Keith-Hynes, 2024)

Fiddler Bronwyn Keith-Hynes first connected with Bentley through Molly Tuttle & Golden Highway, the popular bluegrass group that opened for him several times on tour. She’s also married to Jason Carter, so Dierks wasn’t just a professional collaborator, but a member of her personal Nashville network, as well. It’s no surprise, then, that she’d end up on stage with him at the CMA Awards and, in the same year, he would guest on her acclaimed and GRAMMY Award-nominated album, I Built a World.

“Mardi Gras” featuring Trombone Shorty, Black (2016)

Soaked in Louisiana charm, this tune was inspired by Dierk’s 2015 galavant on a Mardi Gras parade float. Featuring the indelible hornsmanship of Trombone Shorty, the track grooves along with bluesy undertones. “Getting Trombone Shorty to do his thing on it, what a great guy. I love working with him. He is so laid-back and so good at what he does,” Bentley boasts of his collaborator.

“Travelin’ Light” featuring Brandi Carlile, The Mountain (2018)

Featuring the powerhouse vocals of Americana giant Brandi Carlile, this tune appears on Bentley’s 2018 album, The Mountain. The collaboration between the two icons came to fruition after Bentley saw Brandi perform at Telluride Bluegrass Festival, inspiring him to approach her about dueting on the track.

“Sun Sets in Colorado,” Gravel & Gold (2023)

Written reflecting his pandemic move to Colorado (though he has since returned to Nashville), Bentley released this tune on Gravel & Gold. The song shouts out New Grass Revival and Telluride in a verse: “Sing an old new grass song with me/ Telluride along with me,” while also featuring New Grass Revival founding member Sam Bush on mandolin. Bryan Sutton also joins in on the studio recording, yet another sparkling collab with bluegrass greats.


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Photo Credit: Robby Klein

Lend an Ear to
Hailey Whitters

Fueled by a strong Midwestern work ethic, Hailey Whitters played the long game to earn her well-deserved spot in country music. From the time she moved to Nashville from Iowa in 2007, Whitters immersed herself in the city’s songwriting community while chipping away at her dream of being a recording artist.

It took about a decade, but her own songs found their way to Alan Jackson, Little Big Town, and Martina McBride, and she earned a GRAMMY nomination for Song of the Year as a co-writer on Alicia Keys and Brandi Carlile’s “A Beautiful Noise.” But her true breakthrough arrived in 2022 and 2023, when her platinum single “Everything She Ain’t” charmed small-town fans and country radio programmers alike.

After “Everything She Ain’t” eased off the charts, Whitters forged ahead on the road and returned to the studio to create Corn Queen, her first new album in three years. In a call with Good Country, Whitters chatted about working with Molly Tuttle on “Prodigal Daughter,” the influence of the Chicks, and how a childhood diary set the foundation for her as a songwriter.

Corn Queen kicks off with a song called “High on the Hog.” which seems like it’s based on a true story. What was on your mind as you were writing that?

Good lord. I mean, it feels pretty literal to me. I was in the middle of just burnout, probably. I was thick in heavy, heavy touring, sometimes being in the airport three times a day. I was watching my [follow-up] single at country radio fail miserably. It was such a whirlwind, but I remember just taking a minute to be like, “What on earth is going on here?” and having a moment of clarity. I’ve been in Nashville for 17 years now, and I’ve been on the road for over a decade. I got my first bus last year. It was this funny juxtaposition where everyone was thinking that I’d made it. I’d had this big single, and my whole family thought I was so famous! But if you saw that I slept on an airport floor last night and got ready in a gas station bathroom, you would be shocked by what is behind this curtain. I wanted to show that with this song. Outsiders might think this business and this job are really romantic. And I think it’s a grand illusion!

There’s a silver lining in that song, I think. Do you consider yourself an optimistic person?

I always say I’m a negligent optimist. I’m optimistic to a fault! I’ve really had to put on some reality glasses the last few years because I will always choose “glass half full.” I’m always going to look for the brighter side of things. But yeah, I got some good kicks in the rear end the last few years, and that shook me up a little bit. So wait, what’s the silver lining, though? I’m curious, the “high on the hog” line?

Yeah, I took it as, “Hey, despite everything, I’m still out here doing this thing.”

And that’s true, too. In the bigger picture, when I’m not pulling graveyard shifts in driving the van and breaking down and having my audio engineer leave at the border in Canada and getting thrown to the wind before opening for Tyler Childers… I think it’s a silver lining. It’s also a little like sarcasm. Like, I know I’m not supposed to complain, but I’m high on the hog out here! But ultimately, there’s been some really great moments and some really cool things that I’ve dreamt about my whole life. So, at the end of the day, this gig ain’t that bad.

Molly Tuttle is on this record, too, on “Prodigal Daughter.” How did you cross paths with her?

I think one of the first times we ever met each other, I want to say we were both singing at a Tim McGraw tribute show. I may have made that up, but we were both on the bill, and it was Basement East. I remember meeting her backstage and hearing her, and she’s phenomenal! She’s absolutely incredible. And we got set up to write during the pandemic. It was me, her and Lori McKenna, and we wrote maybe two or three songs. And I really, really loved it.

I listened to her and I listened to Billy Strings a ton during the pandemic. I always thought it would be cool to do something with her someday. She’s just an insane talent. Then I wrote this song, “Prodigal Daughter,” and it felt like more of a bluegrass, rootsy kind of vibe. And I thought, “I would love for Molly to do some picking and sing on this one.” And yeah, she played clawhammer! We went over to my engineer’s studio and it was freaking insane. She just blows my mind.

At what point did you become a bluegrass fan?

I think I always liked bluegrass. Bluegrass fans might think this is crazy, but probably my gateway drug was when the Chicks made the Home album, which was more of a bluegrass record. Then that turned me on to Alison Krauss & Union Station, and the early stuff from Ricky Skaggs and Keith Whitley. I have so much respect for that music. They’re so talented and I’m in complete awe. I feel like they come out as babies with an instrument in their hand and just know it up and down. To be so dedicated and devoted to your instrument like that, it really blows my mind.

Home was a landmark record for me, too. Living in Nashville this long, I think about that song “Heartbreak Town,” and how that really shows the way the music industry is here.

So good! [Written by] Darrell Scott, another great musician. And that record was the first time I got turned on to Patty Griffin, too, because of “Top of the World” and “Truth #2.” I grew up in a cornfield in the Midwest. There was no musical influence around me. My family is super blue-collar. Everyone’s digging dirt, or farming, and women are raising babies. The only musical influence I had was what I was hearing on the radio. I was a big country radio kid, and I remember when the Chicks put out that record. That’s the first time I thought, “I need to scratch the surface and dig a little deeper into some of these influences.”

If there’s one song from Home that you think somebody has to hear, which one would you pick?

If you’re wanting to be a songwriter or an artist in country music, I would probably say “Travelin’ Soldier.” That song is so well-written. Anyone can hear that and feel something. Bruce Robison wrote that song. There’s a certain magic to a songwriter who can sit down and write a song by himself. If you want to go deep, “Top of the World.” Even when I was a senior in high school, I was so blown away by that song. It really makes you reflect and think about your life. I remember seeing a Patty Griffin show at the Ryman a few years back, and I just sobbed in the pew to that song! It was a spiritual experience for me.

How did you pick up guitar? How did you learn how to play?

It’s funny, I got a diary one Christmas in 1994. I would have been five years old, barely knew how to write at that point, and I kept a diary. So I always wrote, for my whole life. In elementary school, my guidance counselor asked me what I wanted to do when I grow up. I was like, “I want to sing country music.” And he asked me, “Well, who are some of your favorite artists?” And I said, “The Chicks.” And he was like, “You know they write their own music, right?” And I said, “No! How do you do that?” And he told me, “You’ve got to get a guitar, you’ve got to learn some chords, and you’ve got to write some songs.” So that was when I started doing all that.

How did you make friends when you got to Nashville?

Actually I’m just leaving a breakfast with three of the first people I ever met in Nashville. We met back in 2007, and still to this day, they’re some of my closest friends. When I moved here, I went to Belmont University, and I met them there. We were all Miranda Lambert fans, and she was playing a show, so we all were talking about going to the show. We just always loved country music together. Especially when we first moved to town, we were so completely enamored by Nashville and the songwriting scene. Back when Nashville had showcases, we would go to three showcases a night. It was like, get out of class, get in my friend Lauren’s car, and go hit shows all night long.

On this record, I especially enjoyed “Hearsay.” It’s a love song, it’s funny, it’s got attitude, and a great hook, of course. Are there any moments or memories that stand out for you as that song was taking shape?

That song is about the Black Squirrel in my hometown, which is this little townie bar that’s been around forever. I remember going to see bands there, and they literally had chicken wire up to protect the bands. It’s that bar where you walk in with somebody that you’re not supposed to be with, and the whole town is going to be talking about it, and everyone’s going to know within an hour.

The song “DanceMor” is inspired by a place in your hometown, too, right?

DanceMor is the dance hall across the street from the Black Squirrel. It’s been around since the 1930s. My dad grew up going into it, my aunts and uncles, generations grew up throwing their boots on to go out line dancing and listening to country music. I always thought it was so cool. It closed for a minute when I was in high school, when it was undergoing different ownership, but I’d always wanted to go back and play it. It’s literally an eight-minute drive from my parents’ house. Everyone packs it out. We drank them out of beer last time. And everyone actually went across the street and started buying buckets and came back across the street and kept drinking. It’s such a sweet spot. I’m a big fan of old shit and protecting it and keeping it alive. There’s energy in those kinds of places that you can’t get in a new, polished venue. It’s kind of our little love song to the old dance floor ballroom.

I loved to hear the Wilder Blue singing on there. What did those guys add to the feel of that track?

I think they made the track. It needed those stacked harmonies, and they bring so much texture to all the different vocals and whatnot. They seemed to be a great fit for that. I met them on the Luke Combs tour last year, and they were so fun, and felt like brothers on the road. I listened to the record they did with Brent Cobb and I thought it was phenomenal. Then we got to tour together and play stadiums last year, and me and them, we’re at the bottom of the bill! We always went on early, then we went out in the parking lot and set up cornhole and made pickle margaritas and drank tequila and smoked cigs and played cornhole all night. I just hit it off with those guys.

There’s a message of encouragement in that song, too. You must have met a lot of little girls who look up to you. What do you like about having young fans?

It’s really cute. I mean, I used to be that girl. I remember getting on my dad’s shoulders in a cowboy hat and cowboy boots, reaching out and touching Ronnie Dunn’s hand when he’s on stage. I blame those early country concerts, because those were the moments where it felt larger than life, and you’re like, “I want to do that one day.” That’s really special to see girls like that holding up posters, or with the cowboy boots on, or wanting to get up and sing “Everything She Ain’t” with me. I egg it on. I think it’s great! And they can blame me when they’re twenty years into a ten-year town one day!


Lead Image: Harper Smith

Chatham Rabbits Face Hard Truths of Growing Old(er) On New Album, ‘Be Real With Me’

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.


Photo Credit: Samuel Cooke

Basic Folk: Liv Greene

Oh, how I’ve longed to talk to Liv Greene. Every once in a while you come across a young artist that seems older and wiser than her 26 years. Liv’s been giving me that impression since I met her in 2019, when she was at Club Passim waiting tables and breaking hearts on the stage at just 21 years. Ok, enough about being young.

Liv’s been writing, studying music, and going to music camps since she was 12. Arguably she’s been studying music all her life with her Americana loving parents, who were filling the house with the sounds of Patty Griffin, Emmylou Harris, and Shawn Colvin, to name a few women in heavy rotation at the Greene house. Being the only of her friends that liked that kind of music, Liv attended many D.C.-area concerts with her mom, taking in the magic of live music at a very tender age. Speaking of tenderness, that’s what Liv Greene is all about and she digs into it in our conversation.

Liv started writing and playing shortly after she was inspired by a Taylor Swift concert. From there, she took off on the instrument and even sought out music education in camps like Miles of Music in New Hampshire. It was at that camp, as well as the arts academy Interlochen High School, where she started meeting peers with similar interests. She found herself living for summers with her music camp friends. Prior to her senior year at Interlochen, Liv was a closeted queer at her all-girls Catholic school mostly writing fictionalized stories into her songs because she could not deal with who she was.

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Liv attended and graduated from The New England Conservatory of Music and released her debut album (produced by Isa Burke) right in time for the pandemic in May of 2020. Shortly after that, she moved to Nashville and has spent the last several years on an intense path of self-discovery. Liv found her community, came out, wrote, and self-produced her new album, Deep Feeler (out October 18). On the album, you can hear the growth she’s experienced and you can hear her thriving in her corner of the Nashville music scene, including indie folk. We talk about all of this, including what it means to have a neurodivergent brain, music production, the roller skating community, and Liv’s favorite Taurus personality traits.


Photo Credit: Joseph Ross Smith

See the Winners of the 2023 Americana Honors & Awards

The Americana Music Association announced the winners of its 22nd annual Americana Honors & Awards this evening (September 20) at a star-studded show at the historic Ryman Auditorium during the week-long AmericanaFest conference and festival in Nashville. Performers at the marquee event – which felt, as it usually does, more like a concert interspersed with awards presentations than vice versa – included Bonnie Raitt, Bettye LaVette, S.G. Goodman, Noah Kahan, The Avett Brothers, Adeem the Artist, William Prince and many more with Buddy Miller once again as music director for the Americana All-Star Band.

The evening’s presentations also spotlit this year’s Lifetime, Trailblazer, and Legacy Award Honorees: The Avett Brothers, George Fontaine Sr., Bettye LaVette, Patty Griffin and Nickel Creek. Allison Russell, nominated in two categories, was bestowed the Spirit of Americana / Free Speech in Music Award by the infamous Tennessee Three, Tennessee state representatives Gloria Johnson, Justin Jones and Justin Pearson, whose expulsion by the Tennessee General Assembly after protesting in support of common sense gun legislation earlier this year made international headlines.

A full list of categories, nominees and winners at the Americana Music Association’s 22nd annual Americana Honors & Awards is below, winners in bold. Congratulations to all of the honorees and awardees!

ARTIST OF THE YEAR:

Charley Crockett

Sierra Ferrell

Margo Price

Allison Russell

Billy Strings


ALBUM OF THE YEAR:

Big Time, Angel Olsen; Produced by Angel Olsen and Jonathan Wilson

Can I Take My Hounds To Heaven?, Tyler Childers; Produced by Tyler Childers

El Bueno y el Malo, Hermanos Gutiérrez; Produced by Dan Auerbach

The Man from Waco, Charley Crockett; Produced by Bruce Robison

Strays, Margo Price; Produced by Margo Price and Jonathan Wilson


SONG OF THE YEAR:

“Change of Heart,” Margo Price; Written by Jeremy Ivey, Margo Price

“I’m Just a Clown,” Charley Crockett; Written by Charley Crockett

“Just Like That,” Bonnie Raitt; Written by Bonnie Raitt

“Something in the Orange,” Zach Bryan; Written by Zach Bryan

“You’re Not Alone,” Allison Russell featuring Brandi Carlile; Written by Allison Russell


DUO/GROUP OF THE YEAR:

49 Winchester

Caamp

Nickel Creek

Plains

The War and Treaty


EMERGING ACT OF THE YEAR:

Adeem the Artist

S.G. Goodman

William Prince

Thee Sacred Souls

Sunny War


INSTRUMENTALIST OF THE YEAR:

Isa Burke

Allison de Groot

Jeff Picker

SistaStrings – Chauntee and Monique Ross

Kyle Tuttle


Jack Emerson Lifetime Achievement Award

George Fontaine, Sr.

Legacy of Americana Award (Presented in partnership with the National Museum of African American Music)

Bettye LaVette

Lifetime Achievement

Patty Griffin

The Avett Brothers

Spirit of Americana / Free Speech in Music Award

Allison Russell

Trailblazer Award

Nickel Creek


Photo Credit: Bettye LaVette by Danny Clinch; Allison Russell by Laura E Partain; Billy Strings by Jesse Faatz; SistaStrings by Samer Ghani.

BGS 5+5: Lauren Calve

Artist: Lauren Calve
Hometown: Brentwood, Maryland
Latest Album: Shift

(Editor’s Note: Watch a brand new music video for the title track of Lauren Calve’s upcoming album, “Shift,” below.)

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

I was a visual artist before I was a musician, so visual art has always played a role in my music-making. Interestingly, though, my songs usually inform my art. After I finish writing and recording a collection of songs, I usually go through a kind-of sensory transition from auditory to visual. For instance, after I finished my forthcoming album Shift, I painted a self-portrait incorporating the imagery from Shift for my album cover in the style of surrealist painter Rene Magritte. For me, creating art to accompany my releases enriches the experience of making music.

Which artist has influenced you the most… and how?

Patty Griffin is probably my biggest influence. Her songs have always captured my heart and imagination. And I love how she constantly evolves her sound and songwriting while maintaining her authenticity. In my opinion, she is one of the best living singer-songwriters.

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

Walking the Anacostia River paths behind my house is my favorite and most accessible way to be in nature. These walks have elicited everything from song ideas and lyrics to notes for mixes. There’s something about walking in nature that clears my head and allows my creativity to flow more freely.

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

If I had to write a mission statement for my career, especially in light of my recent personal shift, it would be “Songs for Seekers on their quest to know and be known.”

What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?

My favorite memory from being on stage was when I performed with the Mountain Stage band for the first episode of Mountain Stage’s 40th Anniversary year in January. Prior to the show my guitarist, Jonathan Sloane, had been in touch with the band leader; I was pretty much in the dark regarding the instrumentation for my set. It was the day of the show during soundcheck that I learned that the entire 7-piece house band would accompany me — including Kathy Mattea on background vocals! Never in my wildest dreams did I think that such an illustrious group — many of whom had been at Mountain Stage since its inception 40 years earlier — would be my backing band. Unsurprisingly, that set was the best my songs have ever sounded!


Photo Credit: Sarah Danelli

Take the Journey: 17 Songs for a Sunny and Warm Summer Vacation

In July we put together a playlist of bluegrass songs for summer vacation and once the inspiration was flowing, it was difficult to stop! We thought we should return to the theme, but slightly zoomed out, to include songs from across the roots music landscape. With the summer still shining, enjoy these 17 folk, Americana, and country songs perfect for your road trip playlist.

“Ride Out in the Country” – Yola

Yola was a 2020 Best New Artist nominee at the Grammys and she’s just returned with a new, full-length album on Easy Eye Sound, Stand For Myself. The entire project is lush and resplendent, like the glory days of orchestral, big-sound country-pop in the ‘60s and ‘70s. For this playlist, though, we return to her prior release, Walk Through Fire, and the perfectly country track, “Ride Out in the Country.” Take the scenic byways and crank the volume!


“I Like It When You’re Home” – Della Mae

One of the nicest silver linings of vacation is missing home – and that delicious feeling of returning to your own space and your own bed after being away. And your loved one(s), too! Della Mae captures that sentiment in this jammy, rootsy track from their album, Headlight. Take the day off, drive north, sit by a lake.


“A Little Past Little Rock” – Lee Ann Womack

A truly quintessential driving song. A must-add even if your vacation route comes nowhere near Arkansas. The baritone guitar intro, the shout-along-with-the-lyrics chorus, the whimsically late ‘90s production. A banger. A bop.


“Sunny and Warm” – Keb’ Mo’

Keb’ Mo’ is a master of vibes. His single “Sunny and Warm” showcases the acoustic blues musician in a more traditional R&B light – and the impact and result are simply golden. This track will have you craving your happy place, wherever that warm and sunny locale may be.


“Heavy Traffic Ahead” – Bill Monroe

Look, we’re The Bluegrass Situation! We’ve gotta get our bluegrass kicks in somewhere – bluegrass is roots music, after all. Given that we left this classic by the Big Mon himself off our Bluegrass Songs for Summer Vacation we felt it was worth inclusion here. And worth a mention so that you’ll go check out the entirely bluegrass playlist, too!


“Country Radio” – Indigo Girls

Finally a country song about country radio – and cruising around aimlessly listening to it – that is enjoyable and free of the guilt associated with the false nostalgia, conservative politics, authenticity signalling, and post-2000s country. Especially the kind most often played on the radio! This Indigo Girls track is testament to all the folks out there who love country music, even if it doesn’t always love them back. Don’t worry, it will. Eventually! (Read the BGS interview.)


“White Noise, White Lines” – Kelsey Waldon

If you catch yourself daydreaming, in a dissociative or meditative trance as you keep it between the lines, Kentucky-born singer-songwriter Kelsey Waldon has the exact soundtrack for you. “Whie Noise, White Lines,” the title track of her most recent album, speaks to that near-trope-ish phenomenon of losing oneself amid the countless miles traveled while living the life of a traveling musician. Waldon, as in most of her music, accomplishes this motif without stereotypes or clichés, and the result is a song that will be a staple on vacation playlists for decades to come.


“Table For One” – Courtney Marie Andrews

A variation on the same theme, this time from Courtney Marie Andrews, “Table For One” is gauzy and lonesomely trippy. “You don’t wanna be like me / this life ain’t free,” the singer pleads, seeking a sense of reality in a life almost entirely abided within liminal spaces. Find peace in the redwoods, but try to hold on to it. You might lose it twenty miles later.


“Two Roads” – Valerie June

Cosmic and longing, Valerie June distills Kermit the Frog’s “the lovers, the dreamers, and me” into album form with her latest outing, The Moon and Stars: Prescriptions For Dreamers. Whatever bug you’ve been bitten by – rambling, restlessness, cabin fever, listlessness – let this song and this album scratch that itch. And as you let the miles fade behind you, on whichever of the two roads you take, don’t forget to look up… at the moon and stars and beyond.


“Christine” – Lucy Dacus

Whether or not you’ve experienced the beautiful, transcendent, and heart-rending forbidden love of being queer — on the outside looking in on love that society has constructed to which you’ll never have access — Lucy Dacus’ fantastic, alt/indie roots pop universe will give you a crystalline window into this very particular iteration of unrequited love on “Christine.” The song feels almost as though you’ve woken from a warm, sunny, time-halting afternoon nap in the back seat of a car yourself.


“It’s a Great Day to Be Alive” – Darrell Scott

Darrell Scott goes two for two, landing on both our bluegrass summer vacation round-up and our rootsy list, too! “It’s a Great Day to Be Alive” is THE song for the moment you realize you’re out of the office, away from your chores, without a care in the world — whether you have rice cooking in your microwave or not.


“Hometown” – Lula Wiles

For those summers when all you can muster is a trip home. Lula Wiles don’t just trade in nostalgia and hometown praise, though, they take on the subject with a genuine, measured perspective that picks up paradoxes, turns them over, and places them back down for listeners. It’s a subtly charming earworm, too.


“Heavenly Day” – Patty Griffin

“Oh heavenly day / All the clouds blew away / Got no trouble today…” The exact intention to be channeling during vacation! Don’t let your summer getaway be one of those vacations from which you end up needing a vacation. Leave your troubles behind, have a heavenly day.


“Midnight in Harlem” – Tedeschi Trucks Band

Your travels may not bring you even within the same state as Harlem, but this song had still better be on your road trip playlist. There’s almost no song better to put on at midnight, wherever you may be roaming, than Tedeschi Trucks’ “Midnight in Harlem.”


“Outbound Plane” – Suzy Bogguss

Every time I step into an airport my anxiety seems to sing, “I don’t want to be standing here with this ticket for an outbound plane.” It’s always true. This writer has not yet returned to the jetways post-COVID, so we’ll see how that goes. At least there will be the security and comfort of this jam (composed by Nanci Griffith and Tom Russell) from Suzy Bogguss’ heyday.


“455 Rocket” – Kathy Mattea

There are plenty of modern versions of muscle cars available and on the road today, but not a single one is an Oldsmobile 455 Rocket! Kathy Mattea represents the rockabilly/Americana tradition of paeans to automobiles and gearhead culture with this loping tribute to a 455 Rocket, an early cut for Gillian Welch and David Rawlings. If you happen to take your country drives in a muscle car, regardless of brand, this track is for you.


“Take the Journey” – Molly Tuttle

What better way to conclude our playlist than with this always-timely reminder from Molly Tuttle? It might be a cliché, though it really is true: It’s about the journey, not the destination. So take the journey! Enjoy its twists, turns, and be in the moment. And take some clawhammer guitar along with you.


BGS 5+5: Brigitte DeMeyer

Artist name: Brigitte DeMeyer
Hometown: San Francisco, California
Latest album: Seeker
Personal nicknames (or rejected band names): Well, my husband calls me Bubba. My friends sometimes call me B, or Brig. My nieces and nephews call me “Tante Brigie.”

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

I always knew I loved to sing, as far back as age 12 when I won the talent show at summer camp. I sang whenever I could, in church, in school musicals, in various bands, just for the fun of it. But, in my late 20s I was asked to jump in and sing at an informal party with a very talented friend who was playing acoustic guitar for folks. He played in such a way that a feeling came through me when I began singing, it was like I left the building and got lost in the song. I felt like notes were coming through me from somewhere else.

When I opened my eyes at the end of the song the room of people had gone quiet and all had gathered around me and erupted into a joyous cheer at the end of the song. It was the first time I remember getting naturally high from singing. I have spent my whole career chasing that feeling of connection to whatever came through me that day. It can come from anywhere. Collaborating with someone with the right chemistry, connecting with the audience, or just being by myself writing. They may not be the best performances of my life when that happens. But, it’s about the feeling I get, from connecting to something higher. It’s also really fun to play with friends. Energy exchanging and collaborating. Hope all that makes sense.

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

I guess I would say the toughest time trying to write a song is when I am super happy. You have to really dig in deep and create something out of nothing. “Cat Man Do” came out that way. It took me a year to write that song. You have to make up a character or situation from scratch. I have enough life experiences to draw from. And, inspiration can come from anywhere so I force myself to be open and pay attention. You mix a little fiction with imagination and add a bit of grease and salt, or sugar if that’s what the song calls for. Approaching a song like a poem or a story is something I enjoy as well, or using old language that isn’t vernacular is fun. It makes the song feel deeper and have more character I think. Though it has to make sense to the listener as well, so finding balance lyrically there is tricky at times.

What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?

I have so many. But one of them, was at Humphreys in San Diego in 2014, when I opened for Gregg Allman. He was in the wings watching and listening to me during my whole set. When I came off the stage, he approached and told me I had a beautiful voice. I told him he did. That was a great day. Another great memory was in Ullapool, Scotland, sitting in at the pub with those raucous Scots listening in. They are so appreciative and warm in the U.K. I love performing there.

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

This is an easy one for me. I am an avid horse enthusiast. I am often out at the barn where I board my horse, which is surrounded with rolling hills and wildlife, like hawks, coyotes, goats, etc., and a neighboring cattle farm. Horses for me remind me nature is king, and give me that feeling of connection to something higher as well. I come home way happier every time I go and spend time with my horse. It is also a confidence builder.

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

I would say trust your gut, and just be yourself. Don’t try to sound like anyone else, or write like anyone else. And don’t let anyone tell you what is right for you. If you need to get your mix right, do it. Don’t settle. Also, I was told I was too old in my late 20s to begin my career. I did not listen. I forged my own path kind of organically. Oh yeah, and ALWAYS surround yourself with people who make you happy in your work. If the vibe is there, the music will follow. It shows in the music.


 

BGS 5+5: Jillette Johnson

Artist: Jillette Johnson
Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee
Latest Album: It’s a Beautiful Day and I Love You
Personal nicknames: JJ

Which artist has influenced you the most … and how?

It’s so hard to pick one, but Randy Newman has greatly impacted me as a songwriter and performer. I heard my first Randy Newman song when I was a toddler, watching the movie Beaches with my parents. Bette Midler sings his song, “I Think It’s Going to Rain Today,” at the end of the movie, and it cut right into me. I didn’t know he wrote that song until by accident, I got to see him play and essentially lead a lecture in Los Angeles when I was 16. He completely transfixed me.

His musical sophistication and ear for beauty, coupled with his cutting, hilarious, and deeply empathetic storytelling was like nothing else I had ever heard. He’s so prolific, and so unchained to whatever the world expects of a singer-songwriter. He takes risks, tells the truth, and lets his humanity lead the charge in every song. And he’s still doing it, to the highest level, which inspires the hell out of me. I’ve said often that I want to be Randy Newman when I grow up, meaning that I want to keep making exciting music that matters for the rest of my life, just like him.

What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?

This wasn’t exactly a stage, but it sure felt like one. When I was 17, I was invited to go to Liza Minnelli’s apartment on the Upper East Side in Manhattan to play songs for her on her beautiful grand piano overlooking Central Park. She greeted me at the door with those big bright eyes, no makeup, wearing sweatpants and a giant smile. Her apartment was under construction, but the “piano room,” was perfectly intact — a room of only mirrors, windows, one couch, and the piano where I played. We sat there for hours while I performed songs I had written, and she sat next to me, asking me to replay certain parts of each song so she could really let them sink it.

She made me feel like what I was making mattered, and like I belonged. I’ll never forget that feeling, or her kindness. Towards the end of the visit, she told me I reminded her of Laura Nyro, whom I’d never heard before then, and she insisted I go to her bedroom with her while she crawled on the floor of her closet looking for a Laura Nyro record to give me. She never found the record, but I still relish the image in my mind of her in a pile of clothes scouring for it and swearing under her breath.

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

It happened before I can remember. In fact, I can’t remember a time when I didn’t know that I wanted to be a musician. I was the kid wandering around the edge of the sandbox making up songs and singing them to myself out loud. My grandmother asked me when I was like 4 or 5 what I wanted to be when I grew up, and I said a rock star. She asked what my second choice would be, and I said I didn’t have one. And I still feel that way. Music has been with me before everything. I’d be an entirely different person without it.

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

It’s really helpful for me to find some time to be quiet and center before a show. I always warm up my voice first, usually an hour or so before I go on, while I get changed and do my hair and makeup. But then, in that half hour before I go on, I really like to be alone. I’ll often take that time to meditate first, and then move my body in ways that energize me and make me feel powerful. The sweet spot for me is to go on stage feeling calm and in control, but still full of vigor and excitement. It’s a hard line to walk sometimes, and my nerves have been getting harder to control as I’ve gotten older. That’s why the meditation part is so important.

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

Often! It’s a fun way to have a little therapy session without having to leave my house or pay anybody. And in writing land, it can lead to songs that speak more clearly and feel more inclusive. When I need guidance or am feeling insecure, I like to ask myself what I would tell someone that I loved if they came to me for help with the same issues. And when I’m writing a song that starts to sound like a pity party, or I get lost in what I’m trying to say, I often do the same thing. It’s so much easier to find clarity and compassion for others than it is for yourself, at least in my experience. Flipping the “I” to “you” or “her” is a tool I like to use in both art and life.


Photo credit: Betsy Phillips