Tag: Phil Cook

‘Exploding Trees & Airplane Screams’ – Patterson Hood Returns with Stellar Solo Album

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Most people know Patterson Hood as the frontman (really one of two frontmen) for the long-running rock band Drive-By Truckers. Had they come up in the 1970s instead of the ‘90s, the Truckers would have been mentioned in the same breath as bands like Lynyrd Skynyrd and The Allman Brothers Band. Led by Hood and fellow singer-guitarist Mike Cooley, they play kickass Southern rock — but the caveat is that this is intelligent kickass Southern rock. And much of the band’s sensibility is informed by Hood’s unique youth. He grew up in Alabama, but was raised by liberal parents (his dad is legendary Muscle Shoals bassist David Hood). As Patterson says, “Dualities have always been an obsession of mine and to some extent [of] the band itself.”

Over the years, Hood has also kept a solo career going on the side. But his new album, Exploding Trees & Airplane Screams, is unique for a couple of reasons. For one thing, it’s his first solo record in 12 years. For another, it’s a somewhat different beast, musically, from most of his albums – both with and without the Truckers. There’s considerably less guitar-based rock and roll, and other instruments, such as piano and even woodwinds, have been pushed more to the fore.

This is still very much a Patterson Hood disc. You can’t miss his distinct, gravelly vocals. His storytelling – often stories of what it was like to come of age in 1970s Alabama – retains a sharp eye for detail and the aforementioned dualities. There’s a lot of pathos in Hood’s writing, but there’s always some humor as well. Exploding Trees features appearances from the Truckers’ Brad Morgan and Jay Gonzalez (on drums and keyboards, respectively), not to mention Lydia Loveless (on the heartbreaking “A Werewolf and a Girl”), Steve Berlin, and producer Chris Funk, among others.

Good Country recently had the pleasure of catching up with Patterson Hood.

You’ve been very prolific with the Truckers, but Exploding Trees & Airplane Screams is your first solo album in more than a decade. Why a solo album now?

Patterson Hood: That’s a great question. The reason, I guess, is that I’ve been super busy with the band. The Truckers have been in a really good place for over a decade now. So I wasn’t particularly eager to do a side project just for the sake of doin’ one.

But [with] every album, there’s always a couple of songs that somehow get lost in the shuffle. Particularly after the record comes out – they turn out to be great tracks on the record, but they never get played live. So they are kind of forgotten songs that I care a lot about. I kind of started a file some years back for those songs. It’s not that the band can’t play them; the band played the shit out of ‘em. [It’s] more just the way our shows are, the flow of the show, the rooms we play. You know, the emphasis live often gets put on a certain level of rock, for lack of a better way of puttin’ it. There are songs that might be a little more introverted. So I’ve had a stack of those songs that were sitting there.

And I also, about 10 years ago, became friends with [producer] Chris Funk. We would play together from time to time, usually in the Northwest, because we both live in Portland. We had this cool chemistry. So for a long time, we’ve been talking about making a record together. And during the lockdown – when I was stuck and couldn’t go anywhere or do anything – I spent a lotta time up in my music room. I wasn’t really able to write a lot during lockdown, because my brain was just not functioning very well. I was very depressed. It didn’t make for good songs. But I could go back and go through song fragments and hone in on things. I could really edit like crazy! So I spent a lotta time working on those songs – instead of thinking in terms of what I would do in a rock band format, what I would do in not a rock band format. You know, like “I could hear woodwinds on this song!” Things like that.

We cut it pretty quick. But I spent a long time working on it before we recorded it, you know? Including Funk telling me a few months before we went in, “I hope you’re practicing that piano, because I want you to play it on the record.” I’m like, “No, that wasn’t the plan. The plan was to have someone who can actually play the damn thing!” I’m thankful, because if he hadn’t kicked my ass, I probably wouldn’t have played piano, to be honest. It forced me out of my comfort zone, which I think was as much the point as anything for him. I think he wanted to keep me in a state of perpetual terror! [Laughs]

I had been wondering if that was you playing most of the piano, whether it was Jay Gonzalez or someone else?

I played a lot of it. I mean, I’m not playing all of it; Jay’s definitely playin’ on it. And I think Funk and I both play piano on one song. Funk played a lotta synthesizers. Jay’s playing some old vintage weirdo keyboards that have names that I can’t even remember. Phil Cook played that organ part on “The Forks of Cypress” too. But as far as the songs that seem to be built around a simple piano part – that tends to be me. That’s what I play: simple piano parts! [Laughs] I’m not Randy Newman.

Can I ask you about a few of the specific tracks? I understand that “Exploding Trees” was based on an actual event.

Yeah. It was kind of like a meteorological phenomenon, I guess. It was in my hometown in February of 1994. It was right before my 30th birthday [and] right before I moved to Athens, Georgia. The weather had been warm and it rained a lot for a couple of weeks. It just rained and rained, you know? Borderline flood conditions. There’s a lot of pine trees, particularly in my home area. And they all got completely waterlogged by all the rain and with the warm temperatures.

Then there was this sudden freeze; the temperature dropped like 40 degrees in a couple of hours. And all the water in those trees froze. Particularly those pine trees – I guess they splinter easier anyway. The trees basically exploded all over town, kind of at the same time. Thousands of fucking trees! I mean, flattening cars, buildings, people. It was really awful. … And I had been out of town. I had ironically visited Athens a couple of nights before for the very first time – which directly led to me living there shortly after. I was driving back home as it happened; I basically drove right into the middle of it. I was trying to get to my grandmother’s house to check on her. I got to the house and there were, like, pieces of trees that had gone through the roof. And I couldn’t find her anywhere. [It turns out] she was fine. She was at a neighbor’s house.

I love the line “beauty queens in hospital gowns.”

Right. Well, one of the worst injuries of this storm was a girl I knew. I worked at a restaurant with her. She had just won Miss UNA, the beauty pageant, and was like two weeks away from going to compete for Miss Alabama. Lovely, lovely young woman. Very sweet – super Christian. And an oak tree fell on her car, with her in it. And it knocked her head down into her body cavity. It completely pulverized her neck and back – but she lived! She’s a quadriplegic [now, but] that accident led to [that line].

Oh God. That’s awful.

It feels like there’s a theme on a few songs of reckoning – coming to terms with past events, maybe.

Sure. Or trying to make sense of things. “Miss Coldiron’s Oldsmobile” – I was too young when that was happening to really wrap my head around what all of that meant. But as an adult, you can go, “Okay. She was being gaslighted, you know?” Every time she would ask for money, she’d get reminded of the mental hospital she had spent some time in. Things like that. It was pretty fucking insidious.

“The Van Pelt Parties” – you know, that was some of my first experiences with drinking and how adults partied. I was a little kid, sneaking booze from the punchbowl. I was the only kid at the party and we would go every year. And the older I got, the drunker I got. And the grownups were too drunk to notice! [Laughs]

Was Van Pelt a part of Alabama?

They were a family. He was a college professor, she was a schoolteacher. Their daughter was a painter who had been my babysitter. And my parents were right in the middle of their ages – kind of ended up becoming friends with all of them, with the daughter and the parents. So they were a big presence in my life growing up. You know, I loved ‘em. Their daughter, who’d been my babysitter, taught me a lot of cool stuff. She turned me on to some cool music. I actually have a painting she made after tripping on acid at a Doobie Brothers concert!

Maybe it was because we were young, but I think the ’70s had a much cooler vibe than the present.

Well, about anything’s better than [now]. I hate saying this so bad because I’m not prone to romanticizing the past; I’ve always rebelled against glory days. But right now sucks! The level of fucking misinformation and just the insanity right now is so insidious. It’s hard right now not to feel a certain amount of nostalgia for any time in the past.

You and Mike Cooley have been playing together for almost 40 years or more. And other members of the Truckers have come and gone. But the drummer, Brad Morgan, has been with you guys forever and we don’t hear a lot about him. Tell me a little about Brad and what he brings to the band.

The band wouldn’t exist without Brad. Brad was the glue that kept all this crazy shit together all these years. You know, he’s that guy that’s really even-keeled. And he brought that to the table at times when the band was far too tumultuous and emotional for our own good. We call him Easy B. There’s a golden rule in the band and that’s “Don’t piss off Easy B!” Because if you’re fucking up enough to where Easy B gets mad at you, you are fucking up! And you don’t want the phone call from Easy B! He doesn’t get mad often so if he’s mad, there’s a good reason for it and you better take heed. He’s also a colossal drummer. He so often takes such a subtle approach to things that people don’t realize what a bad-ass drummer he is.

I know you have some solo dates lined up. What can people look forward to when you’re touring with this album? I assume it’ll be a little different than a Truckers show?

Yeah! Very different. But at the same time, it’s the same universe. [Lydia Loveless] is in the band that’s touring this record. She’s gonna open the show and she’s gonna play bass and sing harmonies in my band.

I think anyone who’s into the Truckers – if they can tolerate my voice, they’ll probably like this too. [Laughs] If you’re there for the big frontal assault and guitars and sweat and spit that comes with a Truckers show, it’s very different. Although I’m not ruling out those things happening, too. But it’s a quieter show. It’s gonna be built around these songs, with some other stuff that stylistically or thematically works with this. And it’s cool.

Photo Credit: Jason Thrasher

Cary Morin’s ‘Innocent Allies’ is An Unfiltered Palette of the American West

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Guitarist Cary Morin’s (Crow/Assiniboine) new album, Innocent Allies, includes a striking painting on its cover created by renowned Western painter/sculptor Charles M. Russell (1864-1926), who spent his formative years as an artist in Morin’s home state, Montana. Innocent Allies, Russell’s work, depicts horses, cowboys, and settlers, routine subjects for the visual artist. The piece references how the iconic beasts of burden, who helped build the American West, were often innocent partakers in the violence, imperialism, and White Supremacy of American empire advancing across the rural, montane, wide expanses of the West.

For the new record, Morin leverages his expansive musical vocabulary – flatpicking, fingerstyle guitar, blues, folk, singer-songwriter, rock and roll and pop textures, and instrumental lyricism – to synthesize more than a dozen of Russell’s paintings and works into songs and tunes. The result is pastoral, evocative, and certainly cinematic. But these songs, as Russell’s body of work, are not sanitizations of the past or representations of American mythmaking and revisionism.

Morin views these paintings with a hefty dose of nostalgia, mentioning throughout our telephone conversation how this art was ubiquitous throughout his youth, his life in Montana, and its influence reaches well into his present, while he tours the country playing guitar from his new home base in Colorado. But that nostalgia isn’t predicated upon turning blind eyes to the atrocities endemic to Americana imaginations of “cowboys and indians,” Manifest Destiny, and the genocide and displacement of Native peoples.

The cover art for Cary Morin’s ‘Innocent Allies,’ including Charles M. Russell’s visual work by the same title.

Like Russell before him, Morin offers a grounded, realistic, and eyes-wide-open perspective not only on Russell’s body of work and those iconic images, but on the entire American societal construction of the West, as well. He does so with a formless and gorgeous genre fluidity and with playing styles entirely his own. Each track is stunning and expansive, even in their moments of intimacy and coziness.

Innocent Allies is a delicious record, made ever more fascinating by its unique concept, its nuanced inspirations and influences, and Morin’s one-of-a-kind voice on guitar. We began our interview chatting about the album’s conception before discussing Montana bluegrass, the constructive uses of genre, Beyoncé’s impeccable choice in Rhiannon Giddens’ banjo playing, and so much more.

I wanted to begin by asking you about the art of Charles M. Russell and how it inspired the new album, Innocent Allies – not only is his work on the cover, but it’s also very clear that these are cinematic and very artful songs. They’re very evocative. How did you take a different medium than your own and translate it into your own art?

Cary Morin: The album and the artwork all comes from my upbringing in Montana in the ‘70s. People from Montana all know that Charlie Russell is our most famous artist that ever came out of Montana. There have been a bunch of [artists] actually, but he’s kind of the top of the pile. When I was a kid – probably even today, too – anywhere in the state, you’re gonna be surrounded by his paintings or his sculptures.

He moved from St. Louis, Missouri when he was, I think 16? His parents gave him a train ticket to go out [West] and they wanted him to work on a sheep ranch owned by a friend of theirs for a while to get this fascination that he had with Montana out of his system. But it kind of backfired. He ended up living out his days there, for the most part. He gradually became a really advanced sculptor and painter, eventually getting to the point where he could really [demonstrate] action in the things that he created. He could [depict] minute muscles and forces and accurate movement – same in his paintings.

He ended up doing thousands of paintings and sculptures. They’re in collections all over the world now. Not only in Montana, but there are some museums around the U.S. that have huge bodies of work from him. When I was a kid, the coffee table books that were soon to follow his work, my dad and my mom ended up having all of them. My dad was a huge fan of his books, his writing, his stories, the letters that he wrote to everybody, the paintings, the sculptures.

With that stuff just always laying around when I was a kid, I became pretty familiar with it. I’m by no means an expert at that, but I just grew up around it all and know it pretty well. With this album, originally I was going to do a tribute album. It was going to be as country as I could make it. I’m not really a country player, I grew up in Montana. I can understand how it’s put together, and I could play some pedal steel. I’m pretty much a novice, but I know enough to get by, at least in the studio. So, [originally], it was all going to be all written by another artist.

After a while, I just couldn’t get my head around putting out an album where I didn’t write a single song on it. I think we were at home listening to Red Headed Stranger and I thought, “Man, I really love the production on this.” That was another favorite of my dad’s. He loved Willie Nelson.

I thought the production feel of [that record] would go along with the paintings in the coffee table book that was sitting right in front of us. It was kind of like a moment and a suggestion. The more I thought about it, the more I was like, “This takes care of everything.” I know a fair bit about Charlie Russell and his paintings are so accurate, they all tell stories. So I just started writing stories about the paintings. Looking at them and trying to imagine that scene and that moment of time that he captured. I wondered what happened before that moment and maybe what happened after that moment. Pretty soon we had a good pile of songs. It was a really fun process. At the time, we didn’t know what we were going to do with it. I mean, maybe I felt like it was a good idea, but after if it ever got done, then what?

Well, it definitely sounds like your own kind of sculptural process to get to this album. Carving something and then seeing where it leads you; starting with an idea, but then following the art wherever it goes.

I want to ask you about genre, because we’re having this conversation in “the zeitgeist” right now with Beyoncé and with Lana Del Rey and other people “going country.” On one hand, genre feels so important in this moment and on the other hand, it feels like we are accelerating ever faster toward being in a post-genre world. When I listen to this album, like you’re saying, it does remind me of Red Headed Stranger. It is straight up and down country to me.

But I wonder how you view genre, yourself? Is identifying with genre useful to you? Do you think it’s kind of a vestige of the past? How do you identify with genre at this point and with this record?

Well, with me in particular, that’s a pretty interesting question, because in the early ‘70s, when I was starting to play music and get interested in music, I lived in Montana. With my dad being a military guy, I didn’t really have access to a lot of albums of a wide, eclectic variety of genres and of sounds. But I did end up listening to classical music and my folks were big country fans. My oldest brother was a rock fan. I would stumble across things. I became a bluegrass fan from the influence of my best friends.

I didn’t really understand genres. I just heard music and I liked it. I didn’t really know how to put labels on it. I wasn’t aware of publications that would outline where the boundaries are on music. I didn’t think of things as a specific genre – although, you know, I sure liked the way that Doug Kershaw played fiddle, however I came across that! Or, I really appreciated the way Chubby Checkers played piano. That was all from Louisiana, but I had no idea what Louisiana was, or what Canadian music was, or any of that. It was all just music that I liked.

Having grown up without all that knowledge, I think it did have an effect on how I play music, because I would kind of bounce from genre to genre. I played with a band for 20 years, and we would play like the way Stevie Ray Vaughan played blues guitar. I didn’t really understand that much about blues music, but I thought what he did on David Bowie’s album was amazing. And so that had an influence on the way I play guitar. I really love Pat Metheny, and that had an influence on how I play guitar. I really love Mark Knopfler. It’s like all these genres couldn’t be any farther apart, but they all had a place in my mind. I maybe didn’t realize it at the time, but all those little influences would end up having an effect on how I make albums.

Genres now, that I hear on the radio – which is really only when I drive around – that’s [usually] like a public station, a community radio station, so I don’t really hear pop music. But, everything’s kind of starting to sound the same. I don’t know why that is. I think that maybe money has something to do with it. You know, “What sells?” What the buying public listens to, in order for advertising to be sold. I guess I don’t really pay attention to it too much. But I think that a lot of it’s driven by money.

You know, I can’t understand why Beyoncé would shout out to the world, “I’m gonna face country music!” and have that feel [like a] benefit. I think that she would only do that if she was motivated by something other than her love of Hank Williams. [Laughs] You know what I mean?

[Laughs] it’s hard to imagine! And then, at the same time, in the 100-ish years country music has been around, this seems to be a routine move. There’s always this moment where the people on the inside aren’t making that much money, or feel like they aren’t making much money, and you see someone like Lana or Beyoncé coming and you think, “Wait… There’s money to be made here? What? Tell me more about this!!”

Exactly!

From listening to your music, I think I would describe you as “genre agnostic.”

But I was curious what your feeling was on the Beyoncé announcement and the press coming out on that.

I found it really interesting, because I’ve known Rhiannon [Giddens] for years. She played with Pura Fé an artist/group that I played with in Europe for like five years. To hear her pick up a fretless banjo and just beat it into submission, I was like, “Holy God!” I had never heard anybody play a fretless banjo before, let alone like that. What a perfect choice for Beyoncé. She picked one of the best banjo players that I’ve ever met. I was surprised and impressed.

Yeah, me too. And also to have Robert Randolph playing steel on the tracks. Beyoncé and her team very clearly knew that she couldn’t appear like a “carpetbagger.” It’s not the most perfect term in this context, you know what I mean. She didn’t want to be viewed as somebody who was interloping – she did a good job at that “authenticity signaling” for sure.

It’s a wild thing to watch happen and to watch the discourse, in the wake of the two tracks, half of the people being like, “That’s not country” and half of the people being like, “Black folks invented country music, Indigenous folks invented country music, this is nothing new.” To watch those factions bump up against each other again, it’s kind of endlessly fascinating to me.

Like John Travolta having a hand in the revival of Texas music! Some idea that somebody somewhere along the line has and it catches on and takes off. I like it, too. I think culturally, I love it when things evolve. I do remember when I was a kid that I would hear on the radio what people call “country music” and go, “Boy, isn’t this happening in what is called Southern rock already?” There’s always players borrowing from other players.

And then it’s the studio musicians that played in that stuff. They may have showed up on a Bob Marley album somewhere along the line, too, because they played in a studio. Hell, man, when I was a kid I didn’t even know who Bob Marley was. I think it’s great that people learn from each other.

I wanted to ask you about bluegrass. You talked a little bit about what bluegrass means to you earlier in our conversation, but also when we premiered your track, “Whiskey Before Breakfast,” but I wanted to give you a chance to talk about your bluegrass influence again – we are the Bluegrass Situation, after all. What does bluegrass mean to you as a genre, as a picker?

That also goes back to the ‘70s. When I was talking about all the music that I either got from my family or from older brothers and my best buddies – bluegrass was a pretty big deal in Montana back in those days. I remember early on listening to these albums that didn’t exist in my friends’ houses. Hearing about Flatt & Scruggs and maybe I heard it on TV. I’d see things on Hee Haw
And it definitely piqued my interest.

But the stuff that was going on in Montana, there was a band called Live Wire String Choir, which was a Montana bluegrass band. There was another one called Lost Highway Band that was a little bit electrified, but still bluegrass. And then there was the Mission Mountain Wood Band, which was kind of the king of all of them. They were straight ahead bluegrass, but from around Missoula. They actually appeared on Hee Haw one time, although I never saw that episode. They had an album called In Without Knocking back in the day and I was maybe around 12 years old, something like that. Everybody was buying that album. We had a copy of it, so I was learning those songs.

I think there was a plane accident and a lot of the band didn’t survive, but there’s one guy, his name is Rob Quist, who was one of the founders of the band. He still plays shows in Montana. His music and that band’s music turned me on to bluegrass. Through investigation and through the help of friends, I learned more and more about it. I got way into flatpicking. I never had an American-made guitar when I was a kid. I didn’t really realize the importance of that.

I was still fascinated with Tony Rice, and still fascinated with the crazy melodies that David Bromberg pumped out. I love John Hartford – so it was, I guess, a personal quest of mine. I have some friends that are pretty good bluegrass players. But I left Montana when I was 18 and I kind of pursued bluegrass for a while, but then I kind of got back into fingerpicking and fingerstyle guitar and eventually electric guitar.

And all that Clarence White stuff that I had heard and the Will the Circle Be Unbroken album, a lot of those artists that were kind of starting to press the boundaries of bluegrass music caught my attention. Eventually, I just abandoned that piece of guitar [playing] altogether and got really into playing electric guitar for many years. It wasn’t until maybe 20 years ago that I started really getting back into playing acoustic guitar. I never really abandoned electric, but I started playing fingerstyle guitar and pursuing it. I’d play for five, ten hours a day, daily. I just couldn’t get it out of my mind, largely thanks to Kelly Joe Phelps.

The early acoustic experiences that I had never really went away and I was really interested in creating music based on all of those influences throughout my life.That’s where the fingerstyle thing came back in.


I think the tune that I like the best on the album is “Bullhead Lodge.” And I love the Charles Russell painting that inspired it. I wondered if you could take us into your composition process for “Bowhead Lodge” and specifically, how you were synthesizing those related paintings while you were improvising, composing the tune – because I think that’s really fascinating.

Well, thank you. I’m glad that that song resonates with you. First of all, Charlie’s painting of his cabin on Lake McDonald – Charlie painted from memory, he’s not a guy that you would see sitting out in the middle of the fields with an easel, as romantic as that looks, he wasn’t that guy. He ended up painting a lot of depictions of his view of the lake from Bullhead Lodge. There are so many of them and they’re all just serene.

I was playing a show with Phil Cook in North Carolina and at sound check, he said, “Cary, we could just play this thing…” and he played this short, open-tuning melody. “We could play this thing for 10 minutes and people would love it,” he said.

We just kind of sat there and tweaked it for a little while. I don’t remember the melody he played. We didn’t do that during the show. But, I always remember him saying, “Play the simple thing and people will love it.” When I was looking at those paintings of Lake McDonald, I just started playing this melody. It wasn’t really written on the spot, I suppose. I goofed around with it for a couple of hours, but then I came up with sort of four variations of a similar melody. I started with a simple one and then changed it and changed it and changed it until the chords finally changed into what tags the song.

Because of that process, I like that song too, because it’s a great memory. I was glad that it made it onto the album. People have been talking about that recording, it seems like it’s resonated with folks.

Photo Credit: Grayson Reed

Artist of the Month: Alice Gerrard

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

At 89 years old, old-time music community leader, Grammy nominee, and Bluegrass Music Hall of Fame inductee Alice Gerrard continues to place her music making and creativity decidedly in the present. While every lyric she utters and every note she picks feels effortlessly timeless, storied, and burnished – by her lived experiences and by days, weeks, and months of toil – her songs are ultimately forward-looking, leaning into the future with intention and wisdom. They also feel paradoxically light and joyous while at the same time they stand at the nexus of “what used to be” and “what will come.” Gerrard holds this position with equal power, agency, and insight.

Her latest album, the upcoming self-produced Sun to Sun, out October 20 on Sleepy Cat Records, captures the ineffable of the particular center-of-the-Venn-diagram that she inhabits, as a song collector, a knowledge bearer, and a folk music synthesizer of the world’s woes and struggles for justice. As witness to more than a handful of iterations of the modern movement for equal rights and racial, gender, and economic justice, Gerrard is able to challenge the systems and powers that be in grounded, measured, and realistic ways – ways that never limit possibilities for the future. (A remarkable trait in a creative who uses “old-timey” media and formats as her primary form of expression.)

“Remember Us,” the album’s stunning lead single, is – as Gerrard says via press release – an ode to “all the departed whose shoulders we stand on, whose work and lives we benefit from, who came or were transported against their will to this land.” Sung in stark a capella by Gerrard, Tatiana Hargreaves, and Reed Stutz, the track feels pulled directly from the gospel singing traditions of the American South that each stem from Black and formerly enslaved musical traditions. It speaks into community spaces the names, lives, and souls of so many Black, Brown, and Indigenous folks who lost their lives at the hands of empire and the police state.

“Old Jim Crow” makes the apropos point that segregation and racial apartheid in our country were not that long ago nor that far away, calling the partisan gerrymandering, political divisiveness, and waves of hatred befalling the U.S. exactly what they are: a new kind of the Old Jim Crow. “Keep It Off the Seat,” a Gerrard-penned modern classic, was inspired by the North Carolina General Assembly’s transphobic HB2 measure from 2016 – that also inspired our showcase, Shout & Shine, at IBMA in Raleigh and eventually saw Gerrard singing “Keep It Off the Seat” from the Shout & Shine stage in 2017 with Cathy Fink, Marcy Marxer, Hargreaves, and more. At her live shows, she encourages her audience to sing along during the rousing chorus: “Who cares where you pee? Just keep it off the seat!”

These themes and through lines would be notable in any bluegrass and old-time forebear’s catalog, but here, among Gerrard’s lifelong discography, they are certainly not outliers but continuations of a career that has always been committed to telling untold stories, singing unsung songs, spotlighting and amplifying invisible voices. Gerrard’s age, her position as a roots music elder, reinforces the importance of these subjects, and leaves subtle, existential fingerprints over the entire album. We know Gerrard’s commitment to singing and standing in truth, but in these songs and in this collection, we feel that commitment more than see it, we sense it just as strongly as we view it.

Sun to Sun was tracked in Durham, North Carolina – Gerrard’s home turf for decades, now – with a collection of collaborators and musicians pulled directly from her immediate community. Hargreaves, one of the most prominent fiddlers in the old-time and bluegrass scenes of late, has worked for Gerrard for a number of years as an archivist and assistant of sorts and features heavily on the album; Stutz, an in-demand multi instrumentalist who also straddles the fences between folk, bluegrass, old-time, and Americana, plays guitar and banjo. Other credits include first-rate sacred steel player DaShawn Hickman, Hasee Ciaccio on bass, Marcy Marxer guesting on guitar and cello banjo, Gail Gillespie, Nick Falk, and soulful songwriter, singer, producer, etc. Phil Cook – who collaborated with Gerrard on her 2014 album, Follow the Music – as well.

It makes perfect sense that a community builder such as Gerrard, who has always prioritized the most human aspects of roots music in her creative output, would be able to construct a collection of songs that feels pointed and convicting, but also organic and natural. Sun to Sun approaches heavy topics with ease, as a pair of good friends over a cup of tea on the porch can seemingly solve all of the world’s problems with passion, joy, and unbridled care for the forgotten and invisible among us. Gerrard calls on her folks, her musical and personal communities as well as her listeners and fans, to join with her in the journey she has begun and that we must continue, from sun to sun to sun to sun.

To celebrate Alice Gerrard’s selection as our October Artist of the Month, we’ll be diving back into our archive of Sitch Sessions, interviews, posts, and stories that highlight her incredible music – and her exemplary activism through that music and across the decades. In the meantime, enjoy our Essential Alice Gerrard playlist below, plus two of our BGS favorite Sitch Sessions of all time that feature Gerrard (viewable above), and watch for our Artist of the Month feature to come later in October.

Photo Credit: Libby Rodenbough

The BGS Radio Hour – Episode 208

Posted on by Shelby Williamson

Welcome to the BGS Radio Hour! Since 2017, this weekly radio show and podcast has been a recap of all the great music, new and old, featured on the digital pages of BGS. This week, we bring you new music from both our Artist of the Month, Allison Russell, off of her brand new album Outside Child, and from the late Tony Joe White, too — plus much more! Remember to check back every week for a new episode of the BGS Radio Hour.

APPLE PODCASTS, SPOTIFY

Maia Sharp – “Things to Fix”

Moving across the country is stressful enough on its own. At the end of a 21-year marriage, Maia Sharp put her energy directly into working on her new Nashville home — painting one room, then another, and another. She took the idea to her co-writer on “Things to Fix,” relating the things that could have been fixed in her relationship to what she was fixing in the house.

Last Year’s Man – “Still Be Here”

Singer-songwriter Last Year’s Man (Tyler Fortier) explained his new track “Still Be Here” to BGS, relating, “I think we’re all eager for life to get back to what it was in some way or another and this is a love song built out of the idea that it will.”

Casey Driessen featuring Taro Inoue – “Little Cabin Home on the Hill”

Casey Driessen’s recent project Otherlands: A Global Music Exploration, is a self-produced travelogue of on-location recordings, short films, and essays that documents collaborations with masters of regional music in Spain, Ireland, Scotland, India, Finland, and Japan, where he recorded this bluegrass standard with his friend and mandolinist Taro Inoue.

Tony Joe White – “Smoke From the Chimney”

Legendary country singer and songwriter Tony Joe White, who penned hits like “Polk Salad Annie” and “Rainy Night in Georgia,” passed away in 2018, leaving behind quite a legacy of music. However, the material didn’t quite stop after he died. His new posthumous record, Smoke From the Chimney, was recorded a year later in 2019, as producer Dan Auerbach built the music around voice and guitar demos that White had left behind.

Carsie Blanton – “Mercy”

Carsie Blanton wrote “Mercy” for her husband Jon, who helped her find out that love can be a gentle force that allows us to become more ourselves: “Once I discovered that, I was able to envision a whole world of love; a world that’s less about control and more about compassion.”

Angela Autumn – “Sowin’ Seeds”

“Sowin’ Seeds,” the latest track from Americana singer-songwriter Angela Autumn, explores the could-be life of a musician, one of imagined ease and free from sacrifice.

Danny Paisley and the Southern Grass – “Date With an Angel”

Up next is Baltimore bluegrass royalty Danny Paisley with a track off of his newest record, Bluegrass Troubadour. Paisley started out performing in the Southern Mountain Boys with his father, Bob Paisley, and Ted Lundy. Years later, Danny formed the Southern Grass and performs with his own son as well as the sons of Ted Lundy. They’re a two-family, three generation band! Paisley is the most recent IBMA Male Vocalist of the Year, an award he’s received more than once. Listening to Bluegrass Troubadour, you can see why.

Beth Whitney – “I Go”

Singer-songwriter Beth Whitney wrote “I Go” inspired by her family’s tradition of taking backpacking trips and her favorite Wendell Berry poem, “The Peace of the Wild Things.” While she’ll be the first to admit that she doesn’t backpack gracefully, though as blisters and bug bites take hold, “as the wilderness takes me in, it starts to heal me somehow and I come into focus.”

Amy Helm – “Sweet Mama”

“Sweet Mama” is a rock and roll track made with love in Woodstock, NY by Amy Helm with one and only Phil Cook on harmonica!

Allison Russell – “Montreal”

Our current Artist of the Month, Allison Russell, has just released her stunning solo debut, Outside Child, an album that delves deeply into the extreme trauma she experienced in her youth spent in Montreal. We recently spoke with Russell about her experience making the record and the relief that songwriting, music and art can bring.

Mike Barnett featuring Alex Hargreaves – “Piece O’Shrimp”

Mike Barnett, a Nashville-based fiddle player who recently released +1, an album of duets with friends and heroes, had originally slated the album for release in late summer 2020, but was delayed when he suffered a cerebral hemorrhage, putting his career and life on hold. Undergoing extensive rehabilitation, he posted a welcome update in February on his GoFundMe (support here) that a full recovery is still possible and likely! While we’re wishing Mike the best, and supporting his recovery through his GoFundMe, we’re also enjoying a “Piece O’ Shrimp” from his new album, featuring Alex Hargreaves.

Christina Alden & Alex Patterson – “Hunter”

UK-based folk duo Christina Alden & Alex Patterson wrote “Hunter” inspired by an unlikely friendship between a grey wolf and a brown bear, as captured by Finnish photographer Lassi Rautiainen.

Charlie Marie – “El Paso”

Country singer-songwriter Charlie Marie recently joined BGS for a 5+5, that is 5 questions and 5 songs. She talks growing up listening to Patsy Cline, meditating before “big” shows, listening to Frank Sinatra at old school Italian restaurants, and more.

Photos: (L to R) Amy Helm by Ebru Yildiz; Allison Russell by Marc Baptiste; Tony Joe White by Leann White

Stay On Your Ass: If Days Still Mean Anything to You, It’s a Long Weekend!

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Our plans: GET. OFF. YOUR. ASS. 2020: Nope, lol.

In the past, supporting musicians, writers, and creators meant going out to shows, buying drinks at venues, volunteering at festivals, and so much more. But music fans and supporters around the globe are finding new ways to show up for the folks who supply the soundtracks to our lives.

States and local jurisdictions may be loosening coronavirus lockdown restrictions, but the numbers are still very clear. Memorial Day or not, the healthy, safe choice is to just stay distanced, stay apart, and stay on your ass! We’ll continue to bring you a few of our favorite events, livestreams, and COVID-19 coping resources that we’ve scrolled by on our feeds or found in our inboxes each week until that reality changes.

Did we miss something? (We probably did.) Let us know in the comments or on social media!

Rhiannon Giddens Honors Bill Withers, Aids COVID-19 Relief Efforts

In early May, Rhiannon Giddens released a gem from her vault of B-sides and outtakes. Recorded in what she refers to as a “very un-socially distanced time,” Giddens and co. perform a lively tribute to an icon of American music. The release of this cover and music video celebrate the life and music of Bill Withers, while also portraying life in quarantine and raising funds for Global Giving’s Coronavirus Relief Fund.

Like many of his other hits, Withers’ “Just the Two of Us” has an infectious cheerfulness that, especially when juxtaposed with images of quarantine and sheltering in place, can brighten any day. Giddens explains, “When Bill Withers passed, we suddenly remembered we had made this beautiful [cover]… So whether it’s just the two of us, or just a few of us; whether the lockdown has been for months or it’s about to be lifted; COVID-19 is here for the foreseeable future, and the more we can be alone together now, the better the future will be.” 

Whiskey Sour Happy Hour Concludes

Our month-long online variety show came to a close last night with a surprise bonus episode featuring performances from past WSHH performers like Billy Strings, Valerie June, Rodney Crowell, and more. Last week, for the superjam of our final “official” episode, our cast of pickers pulled off this incredible cover of “The Weight,” a perfect finale for the series.

It’s been an incredible journey building and sharing these shows with all of you over the past few weeks, but the fun isn’t quite over yet. We’ve left all episodes of Whiskey Sour Happy Hour online so we can continue raising money for MusiCares and Direct Relief, two organizations leading the charge with critical support for musicians and front line responders facing this crisis.

Over your Memorial Day weekend, why not binge the whole show, enjoy world-class songs and comedy, and if you can, give a little to support the cause, too? Watch all episodes and donate here.Our friends at Direct Relief have been working ceaselessly since the advent of this pandemic to supply personal protective equipment to front line responders. Watch this brief video that captures the importance and the magnitude of the work they’re accomplishing.

California Bluegrass Association Says to “Turn Your Radio OnLINE”

Founded in 1974, the California Bluegrass Association is one of the oldest and largest bluegrass associations in the world, with over 2,700 members. They produce events throughout the year, including the jewel in their bluegrassy crown, Father’s Day Bluegrass Festival, held every Father’s Day weekend in Grass Valley, CA since just a year after the organization’s inception.

This year, the festival has canceled all in-person programming, asking bluegrass fans in California and around the world to turn their radios “OnLine” to take part in music performances, live interviews, online interaction, and so much more, featuring artists such as Tim O’Brien, Laurie Lewis, Molly Tuttle, Lonesome River Band, Special Consensus, Joe Newberry & April Verch, and others.

The webcasts will be accompanied by an online auction to raise funds for the CBA’s newly announced COVID Artist Relief Fund. Items being auctioned include fine acoustic instruments, books, music lessons, historic bluegrass memorabilia, and items of interest from popular musicians.

Get all of the information, full performance schedules, and more right here.

Music Maker Relief Foundation’s Freight Train Blues 2020

Our friends at the Music Maker Relief Foundation, the Hillsborough, N.C. based nonprofit whose mission is to promote and preserve American musical traditions by partnering directly with elderly musicians, have announced their 2020 music series, Freight Train Blues. The event, which ordinarly takes place at Carrboro Town Commons in Carrboro, NC, will now be broadcasted on Facebook, YouTube, and by WCHL 97.9FM out of Chapel Hill.

Featuring performances from Phil Cook, Mandolin Orange, Thomas Rhyant, and more, Freight Train Blues celebrates the life and legacy of Piedmont blues legend Elizabeth “Libba” Cotten, a pioneer in bluegrass, old-time, and blues and whose songs have left an indelible mark on all of American roots music.

You can tune in all through May and June! Get more information from MMRF here.

Reinventing a Broken Wheel – Frank Conversations, Future Opportunities


BGS co-founder and executive director Amy Reitnouer Jacobs will moderate the sixth session in Folk Alliance International’s “CommUNITY Online” series of sessions and panels on Friday, May 22 at 2pm CDT / 12pm PDT. Joined by David Macias (Thirty Tigers), Erin Benjamin (President/CEO Canadian Live Music Association), Enrique Chi (artist/activist), and Megan West (Facebook/Instagram) this group of industry experts will discuss, identify, and explore opportunities to innovate, pivot, and move the industry along in new directions. We each have a role to play in constructing our “new normal” — from immediate action to big picture initiatives, this conversation promises to be inspiring, provocative, and realistic.

Register for free, inform the conversation, and participate here.

Justin Hiltner and Jonny Therrien contributed to this article.

MIXTAPE: Bobby Britt’s Songs of Hard-Won Joy

Posted on by Editor

The songs and artists on this playlist evoke a sense of hard-fought, hard-won, deep and rich joy. It is not a simple, one-dimensional joy. It has the sound of being churned about, tried and tested again. And now, just maybe, the joy being properly vetted, can be enjoyed. I look up to these artists, as they convey a message of calm and confident optimism.

We are all faced with the dualities of a temporal world…birth and death, gain and loss, pleasure and pain.

These songs speak to the strength of the human spirit amidst that world, and give me courage to carry on regardless of what’s happening, good or bad. They also provide a glimpse at an eternal reality of peace and balance (that has nothing to do with time, space or duality) that is hard to see or believe in when I am churning in the opposites…fear of loss, a craving for more and more solidity, and the dread that I will never have or be enough.

We need artists for this very reason; to go beyond our normal, conditioned ways of thinking about life, and to give us a new perspective with which to test our old and sometimes outdated paradigms.

My area of expertise is bluegrass and old-time fiddle. Though I am not a vocalist or pop artist, I gain inspiration from all styles. The feeling and sound of the above mentioned “hard-won joy” is what transcends specific genres for me. A goal of mine is to take this base emotional element, and with it, transfuse my fiddle playing and songwriting.

My hope is that you can find some joy and something to relate to in these songs as I did. Thank you for listening.

Photo Credit Louise Bichan

The Garden of Gospel Music: A Conversation with Phil Cook

Posted on by Editor

The motivation for Phil Cook’s unapologetically familiar gospel sound is simple: he LOVES that style of music and the people he’s learned it from. At times he veers into Appalachian instrumentation, reflecting his current North Carolina surroundings, and there’s individuality and innovation aplenty. But this Wisconsin kid and his band never stray far from a black gospel blueprint, incorporating backing choirs, tinkling piano stabs, organ that’s more Booker T. than Benmont T., and a vocal delivery that’s loose and expressive.

On his new album, People Are My Drug, Cook invites us to marvel gratefully and joyfully at the greatness of so many people whose creativity and communal originality have flourished under oppression, as well as those who hold the weight of the world within their silence.

There is a definite space that People Are My Drug lives in. I’d love to hear your thoughts on that. 

I’m lucky. If I’ve learned anything, it’s to surround yourself with people that know what they’re doing, have a lot of experience, and have something to say. I can possess those things, not all at the same damn time, but if I’m surrounded by other people, I feel safer to be that multiplicity. So my circle starts with my brother, as a producer who knows me better than any other and helps me deliver the most honest statement that I can make. He knows when I’m hiding and helps me stand up tall and be who I have to be to do the thing.

From there, all the musicians in the band – we essentially made the record in two days. Most everything was made in a studio in Wisconsin, which happens to be owned and operated by my old friend Justin Vernon. So we brought the whole crew up, and we holed up in a live room, the four of us – drums, bass, keys, and me. We played for two straight days and didn’t leave the room. We trusted the people across the house were doing their job.

And that’s where this record starts: trust. I am surrounded by musicians that I trust more than anyone else in that moment on stage or in the studio, and we made that a bubble. Then after we were done we had a nice dinner and went into the control room and listened to the record that we’d just made. We were laughing and smiling at each other. There are little moments that happen all over the place. We start out “He Gives Us All His Love,” and I was like, “Bass, I love ya.” And when we listened back to it, that’s exactly what the vibe of the entire record is, that fraternal kind of vibe.

Speaking of fraternity, “He Gives Us All His Love” stirs me to feel universally connected to humankind, more brotherhood of man than fatherhood of God. Is that what you were going for?

Yeah! It’s my favorite Randy Newman song off of Sail Away because it’s the one time he lets his sardonic humor-guard down for a very simple song about gratefulness and generosity, and I like that a lot. Funny story, we sang our version of that song for the first time and halfway through it a woman in the front row looks up at me with a little smile and goes, “How do you know it’s a ‘he’?” and immediately switched the entire perspective of the song. And the rest of the song we sang “She gives us all her love.” I was like, “Well, this is how we’re gonna perform it from now on!”

And that’s the kind of spontaneous moment that you have to pay attention to as a musician, to be open when something passes by and be like, “That’s it! Cool! Switch directions. Let’s hit this.” And you trust. It made for a really beautiful moment at a hometown show. So yeah, I do feel that the fraternity, the brotherhood of man, is the heart and soul of how gospel music plays a role in my life. It’s much more of a family, a community. That’s the togetherness of space that I think the center of this record is.

What I ultimately got out of a childhood in church was this great community that was really supportive of me being who I was. They saw a little kid with glasses in Wisconsin, and they told me to keep being who I want to be. That’s what every kid deserves. And as much as I walked away from church, when something is a part of you in your childhood, you can’t just walk away from it. It’s going to be a part of you for the rest of your life, even if you don’t have a weekly interaction with it.

And I think gospel music in general has been a part of me having this continual, ongoing dialogue with my faith and my questions in a deeper way that feels really real, that feels like a real practice, nothing about dogma, nothing about a system. It’s not gonna work for everybody, but I was able to dial back my anxiety medication after two or three years pretty much listening to quartet black gospel music and getting into it until I started to feel it.

What is it about gospel music that connects you to that human moment?

Well, gospel music is the original garden of all music that comes out of America. On one side you’ve got the blues, which way more people in the white community are familiar with. That’s ubiquitous. A lot of people know who Robert Johnson is, Buddy Guy, B.B. King, even someone more eclipsing, like Jimi Hendrix. A lot of those artists were torn their whole lives between what they were doing for money and what they were doing on Sunday morning.

Religion never left them either. Religion gave them so much. So even blues artists weren’t free of that spiritual paradox. If you look at some of the greatest singers, they all came out of this garden of the church. Aretha, Curtis Mayfield, Sam Cooke, all the Staples Singers – a vast number that were able to have a safe space as they were growing up. The safest space they could find was church, the place where they were able to seed and plant their art and their voice.

The church was also the source of this friendly competition with players raised up there. You’ve got young kids in the wings watching every single move that you’re doing, and they’re going home and practicing. It creates a whole circle of virtuosity and innovation. It was the only place for it to thrive, and, damnit, it thrived. It changed the entire world. Most of those artists went on to big careers in soul music and left the church in some ways. The church didn’t leave them though. That was with them the entire way.

I appreciate the way in this album you direct attention toward others and away from yourself. I’ve cried twice this morning listening to “Another Mother’s Son.”

It’s heavy. I had my own experience with almost losing my youngest son when he was born to some complications with respiratory stuff. You get close to almost losing the thing that you hold most precious, even though you just met him. Your family is forced to grip with the possibility that things aren’t gonna turn out ok. I don’t know who isn’t gonna be affected by a situation like that in a way that’s gonna crack your heart wide open. And what happens after that is really important.

He came home from the hospital and I put him to bed; we’d had an incredible family day. I felt like, “Oh, my family is so strong. I’m so thankful for this family. We’re gonna get through this life together and it’s gonna be ok.” And then I checked Instagram and saw the video that Philando Castile’s girlfriend, Diamond, took of the police officer after [the officer] shot him multiple times with her daughter in the back seat of the car. In that moment it was the juxtaposition of how safe I was feeling, how strong my family felt, to seeing a young man who was such a giving soul ripped so violently from his own mother, who called him her miracle child.

She wasn’t supposed to be able to have kids and she had a son, Philando Castile. And then this broken-ass justice system completely stole him away from her and everyone else that loved him. And it just hit me way harder than it normally would have because of what I went through. Often times you go through something and then maybe days, months, years down the line, something else will happen that will give you a whole new perspective on what you experienced initially.

The second fold was one of my bandmates, a phenomenally gifted musician and gregarious, incredible human being, Brevan [Hampden], who came over one night to meet [my son] Amos. Brevan was raised by his mother, who had three boys, all black men in America growing up. We sat on the porch drinking beers, and the talk turned to all this stuff. I love Brevan with all my heart. We’ve gone through a lot in our lives as musicians together in just a few years. And I think that moment just a few days after Philando Castile’s death really delivered home the two worlds that are so separate in this country. What some mothers don’t have to worry about. And what some mothers have to live in fear of every single day. And no matter how hard they sandbag and prepare against the terrible reality that could happen, their black son is walking out the door every day with a target on his chest. There’s no guarantees.

Brevan was raised sternly about how to interact with police, body language, tone of voice, every single thing. It was so foreign to me to listen to that, growing up in northern Wisconsin, the diversity-free capitol of the world. I knew all the police officers in Chippewa Falls. They all knew my mom and dad. I don’t know how many benefits of a doubt I got because of that. I can’t ignore that. I’m gonna go through the rest of my life grateful that it’s never happened to me. It’s a poisonous system, and I moved south to get away from indifference, so I could be in more of an interactive dialogue with communities that didn’t look, think, and act like me.

Photo credit: Josh Wool (Top); Graham Tolbert (Middle)

7 New MyMusicRx Videos with Brett Dennen, John Moreland, River Whyless, and More

Posted on by Editor

Children's Cancer Association is a Portland-based non-profit organization dedicated to bringing joy to seriously ill children and their families. Through a number of programs, CCA has provided laughter and love to countless families battling pediatric cancer and other life-threatening illnesses. One of those programs, MyMusicRx, uses the healing power of music to connect sick children with concerts, music lessons, games, and more, the bulk of which is available at MyMusicRx.org.

Through MyMusicRx, CCA produces SongRxs, "song prescriptions" performed by popular artists and filmed at music festivals like Newport Folk, SXSW, and Sasquatch. We're happy to premiere seven new SongRxs from some of our favorite artists. Learn more about CCA, the MyMusicRx program, and how you can donate right here.

Brett Dennen, "If I Had a Boat" (Lyle Lovett cover)

Nicki Bluhm and the Infamous Stringdusters, "In the Mountains" (Sarah Siskind cover)

John Moreland, "Gospel"

Phil Cook and Amelia Meath, "Take Your Burden to the Lord" (traditional hymn)

Hayes Carll, "The Magic Kid"

River Whyless, "All Day All Night" 

The Oh Hellos, "In Memoriam" 

The Language of Music: An Interview with Phil Cook

Posted on by Editor

Phil Cook is one of those guys who exudes positive energy. When you speak with him, he’s warm and engaging. As he’s telling you about one of his many projects, he’s overflowing with enthusiasm, sounding like he can barely believe he’s getting to do it. But for a listener, there’s a lot to believe in when it comes to Cook. The 35-year-old Wisconsin native has thrown himself whole-heartedly into working with artists like the Blind Boys of Alabama, the Indigo Girls’ Amy Ray, and Matthew E. White. For the past few months, he’s spent a lot of his time on the road playing keys with Hiss Golden Messenger, who share Cook’s current home of Durham, NC.

In 2005, Cook relocated from Wisconsin to Raleigh, NC, with his younger brother Brad and a handful of other bandmates. One of these, Joe Westerlund, would stick around to help the Cooks form the wild and wonderful Megafaun. Another, Justin Vernon, would return to Wisconsin to make songs that he’d soon release under the name Bon Iver. In 2007, Cook and his partner, Heather, bought a house in the adjacent city of Durham, where they still live with their four-year-old son. As Megafaun fizzled out, Cook wrote and recorded simple guitar and banjo material as Phil Cook and His Feat, which allowed him to begin developing his voice as a solo artist. His forthcoming record, Southland Mission, is more than just another solo album — it blows just about everything that Cook has ever done out of the water. From his front porch, Cook talks about the long gestation of Southland Mission, which covers ground from soul, gospel, and Americana all the way to good ol’ rock ‘n’ roll. It’s a bright celebration of music that Cook says is the best thing he’s ever done. 

You’re really big into American roots music. How did that fascination begin for you?

I was one of those kids who grew up, and my parents were both hippies. My parents were both involved in protests; my parents were both involved in all kinds of stuff in Madison, WI, which was a big counter-culture epicenter. My dad had a huge record collection, and he had, like, a thousand records when I was growing up. One of the things that happened, growing up, one of the ways he curated his record collection for my brother and me was — one of the things you do up north is you go downhill skiing. My dad was on the ski patrol. So my brother and I went skiing every week, and we’d go on these winter break trips over Christmas, and we’d go for 10 days way up north. My dad would take off the day before we left. He would take off of work and his whole purpose for that whole day of taking off was he would make a vinyl-to-cassette mix tape for the whole day.

There was some overlap every year, but he made this ski tape, and we would drive up in our minivan — Brad, dad, and me — and it was the only thing we listened to the whole way up … a four-, five-hour drive. And then my dad would take it out — he had a Walkman — he would put headphones on, and my dad would ski to his tape all day long. My dad is the best skier I’ve ever seen in my entire life. He looks like a swan up there. So it’s all this stuff about seeing my dad in his natural element, with listening to all this really great music. My dad had a ton of Muscle Shoals stuff on there, a ton of Memphis stuff on there. Every year. The one song I remember being on every single mixtape was “Try a Little Tenderness” by Otis Redding.

That, I think, was the beginning. That was me when I was like seven or eight. The joy of the music was infused with the joy of what my family did together, how we bonded. Watching my dad in his most natural element, seeing my dad in his purest form. All soundtracked by this music. The older I get, the more I realize those ski tapes are the foundation of my entire musical understanding.

Do you still have any of those tapes?

I would love to find out if there are any of those tapes around. Probably one of my dad’s most favorite artists of all time are the Neville Brothers from New Orleans. So there would always be New Orleans music. The Neville Brothers would be on there. That’s how it started. Really and honestly. I’m from the north, and the closest big city is Chicago, so it makes sense that my dad had some records that were Chicago records, because they would come through the college areas when my dad was going to school. So there’s a white blues band called the Paul Butterfield Blues Band, which came out in the late ‘60s, and they were all white Chicago kids who were obsessed with blues and would just haunt the South Side Chicago clubs. They learned from Muddy Waters, and they learned from all the people like Little Walter and Otis Spin. That’s the first stuff I latched onto.

For a kid growing up in a great northern Midwestern city … there are no black people, and I didn’t see black people until I was, like, 14. So the music that I listened to had an otherness to it that was so far removed from my daily routine. It just existed in my mind in this far-off place, kind of. So there’s a natural part of being a kid and who I was thrown by, or whatever. A lot of the first artists that I really latched on to in any genre ended up just being these relay artists.

I found the further I went back, the more I would just love the purity of some stuff that would happen. Paul Butterfield Blues Band, a white blues band from Chicago in the ’60s, I started there, but it was such a direct connection to Muddy Waters, that was the next obvious thing to go to. That’s what I love. I love seeing where it all grew from, and I think that’s what it is. The more time passes, the more history we have. Linear time is gone in 2015. You can try and stay on the hood ornament of the freight train and try and stay up there, or you can find what inspires you. That’s what inspires me. That’s it. That’s what makes me happy at the end of the day. The water and the cells of my body vibrate to gospel music. I don’t know why. They just do. So I gave that to my body. It’s good.

When you play with other peoples’ bands, you tend to do more keys, but your solo stuff has been more string instruments like guitar and banjo. Why is that?

I grew up playing piano. I started taking lessons when I was four, but I started playing when I was three. I would just sit at the piano. It’s the instrument I don’t have to look at. I just close my eyes and play. Even though I haven’t “practiced” piano in 10 years, it’s still my most expressive instrument. So when I play with Mike [Taylor, Hiss Golden Messenger], or some of my old friends like Justin, they know me as a piano player. They look at me and they see a piano player and they love whatever I do.

The string stuff happened after I moved to North Carolina. That’s when I started learning guitar. It’s when I started doing all the other stuff. It just became the thing that I passed the time doing, just sitting on a front porch, because it’s so fun to sit on a front porch and play. That grew very organically, just out of being here, writing songs, doing little ditties that were just fun and little. They both have different ways of speaking — the instruments do. Different languages that you can use, but you can also share. My favorite thing to do is to play something on the piano, a very pianistic thing, and transfer it to the guitar and see how it sounds. That’s why the fingerpicking makes sense, because it’s piano-like to me. Conversely, you write something on the guitar and transfer it to the piano — that’s my favorite thing to do … cross my languages. I geek out about that stuff. It’s fun for me.

How long have you been working on Southland Mission?

Two years. In between Megafaun tours, I came home and started making these little solo records. Once I had a handful of songs, I would just come home and record it in one day. I never had to look at it. It just gave me an out to forgive myself for the mistakes I would make all over it. It was also just simple. Everything was simple about it. That got me onstage and in front of people.

I guess I just realized, at some point, it was just a matter of meeting certain people. They kind of unlocked certain doors that sent me reeling on a journey. A journey of fate that has been, probably, building since I was 14 and met Bruce Hornsby. When I think about the record, it’s been that long in its incubation. The Blind Boys record I did, that was the first unlocking. That was like the baptism. That was the unveiling. I was like, “Oh, I can do this. I can pursue the music that I’ve always loved and incorporate it into something. I can hang.” It was such a pleasant surprise to find out that I just want to make good music, and so do they. It was really easy to find common ground. My brain just fired after that. I started coming up with all these ideas and sitting down, and all these songs and ideas that weren’t Phil Cook and His Feat, it wasn’t these front porch ideas. It was this really big sound I heard in my head.

That’s how I view Southland Mission. I just had to go do this thing. It had to come out of me. I didn’t realize it had to come out of me, but it had to. It took me away from my family, and took me away from being present in any conversation for the last two years. I was gone. My mind was just completely on it. But it was a really spiritual journey, and these are the teachers I met along the way that sent me to the next thing. I love it. I’ve never been so proud of anything in my entire life. It’s the thing.

Photo credit: DL Anderson Photography