Tag: poetry

Katie Pruitt on ‘Mantras’ and Letting Go of Control

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Knowing how 2020 and the years that followed would unfold, the dynamism of Katie Pruitt‘s debut record is even more awe-inspiring. Expectations introduced the Nashville-via-Georgia singer-songwriter alongside her deepest aches and most intimate struggles as an openly queer individual raised as part of a devout Roman Catholic family in the conservative South. It would go on to earn a GRAMMY-nomination and ample praise for her lyricism, empowered performances, arranging, and instinct for production. In short, it’s undeniable that Pruitt set quite the high bar of expectations for herself and the music she would choose to share next.

Four years later, Pruitt has unveiled Mantras. While flashes of brilliance from a familiar autobiographical lens inform and inspire the 11 track recording, these aren’t simply more straightforward, memoir-style anecdotes. The truths and experiences Pruitt shares on Mantras feel more revealing than Expectations, as this time, Pruitt’s lens looks decidedly more inward at what she has lived through, reflected on, and learned from since writing her last album.

Not only is Mantras‘ thought process largely internal in nature, but each song leads to paths, stories, and developments that have yet to be fully resolved – if ever they will. The album showcases a great deal of inspiring perseverance in the self-contained conclusions of songs like “Self-Sabotage” and “Worst Case Scenario” and more generally, it unveils a journey of self-healing from start to finish.

However, while Mantras ultimately provides reassurance, peace, and closure, the takeaway isn’t meant to be one of permanent resolution or rigid perspective around anything Pruitt has seemingly conquered in each song. Like the recapitulating nature of a mantra, she is mindful of being continuously attentive and compassionate towards her inner struggles, rather than seeing them as singular moments of adversity.

Speaking with her by phone, BGS shared an insightful conversation with Pruitt about how her focus on inner-healing shaped the sound of Mantras, how her perspective around disagreement and connection has changed, how she cultivates inner strength, and much more.

How was it navigating the presence of expectations for Mantras, considering your intent to move away from a focus on external validation?

Katie Pruitt: On the first album, I was dodging different expectations, you know? I was dodging expectations of my parents or of how people in my hometown saw me and who I am now. I sort of accidentally set high expectations for this next record. I felt like I was competing against myself in a lot of ways and I really had to find moments to just surrender, come back to center, and just focus on the fun feeling in the present moment and talk about that, instead talking about things that I think people want me to say. I needed to focus on what I needed to say, which is maybe different than what other people expected or wanted to hear on this album.

Knowing this album is an expression of personal growth and a journey of sorts for you, what does it feel like to just now be talking about these songs after holding onto them for so long?

Coincidentally, I feel like everything on Mantras is lining up with my life as it’s coming out.

With me talking about my parents selling my childhood home [in “Naive Again”], yeah, my parents are selling my childhood home as we speak. And when I finished a lot of the songs about my partner slowly checking out and leaving, maybe a week after I turned in the record, we broke up. So I’m still experiencing a lot of these things in my life. It’s kind of a first for me, because when Expectations came out, I had kind of already patched things up with my parents and there were things in my personal life were kind of resolved. But then I was having to dive back into those issues every day on stage or whenever I sang those songs. This is different, honestly. It kind of feels good to be able to deal with what’s going on in my life with the songs in real time.

You’ve talked about building “the tracks from the ground up as opposed to cutting everything live, which gave so much more room to let the songs evolve and become what they needed to be.” What does that mean for you and what did those moments of full realization for the music feel like for you, and producers Collin Pastore and Jake Finch?

Jake and Collin’s workflow is very quick. And that was a challenge for me, but I felt like we challenged each other in the right ways. They move very fast and I was like, “Wait a second. Let’s take a look at this. Let’s sit with it for a second and make sure we like it.”

I think having the option [to record parts individually] instead of having all this pressure to be in the studio with a full band and having everyone play the right parts at the right time, was nice for us – to just build one part at a time and ask ourselves, “Is this correct? Does this fit?” And if it doesn’t, we’d say, “We can always mute it.” … There’s not necessarily a wrong answer. We’re just trying to evoke a feeling and if we feel it then other people will too.

What brought you together with Christian Wiman’s work, ultimately inspiring you to writing the album title track?

I was listening to this poetry podcast, [Poetry Unbound], I was really into that during the pandemic and that was obviously a tough time for a lot of people, [creating] a lot of points of contention, especially around beliefs and belief systems. I just felt like, my parents believe different things than me and my friends started to believe different things than me. So that poem, [“All My Friends,”] just really resonated as this “A-ha!” moment.

At the very end of the poem [Wiman] says something like, “My beautiful, credible friends.” In the first part of the poem, you almost feel like he isn’t mocking them, but like, he’s kind of poking fun at how many rabbit holes there are to go down, as far as spirituality goes or, finding yourself goes. Then at the end, he’s like, “And all of them are credible, all of them are valid.” And that really struck a chord for me and I just think that’s a really powerful statement.

Given the open and accepting mindset you impart through “All My Friends” and its juxtaposition with the piercing, personal insights you share in “White Lies, White Jesus, and You,” where would you say religion, particularly Christianity and Catholicism, exists for you now, compared to when you were writing Expectations?

I really try to make clear to my parents or to some of my friends who are still Christian, that [the song] is talking about people who take the Bible and abuse it for their own benefit – whether that be political or just to justify shitty behavior on their end, like saying, “Oh, well, it says that gay people aren’t allowed in heaven. So I’m allowed to say this.”

That’s the part of [Christianity] that really turns me off to it in general. And that’s a shame, because the dude in the Bible, Jesus, the version that I have kind of come to discover as I’ve gotten older, is a pretty progressive dude. And I don’t mean that in the political sense. I mean, in the sense of he’s accepting of everyone no matter what their background is. Like, Jesus himself never says anything about gay people. He’s friends with kind of some sketchy characters if you were going to look at it through a lens of today. So that’s the Jesus that I wish I were taught more about when I was growing up. I think “White Lies, White Jesus and You” was a way for me to process the [version of] Jesus that I have experienced as a closeted gay kid and how the ways that version hurt me and put that in the past and put that behind me.

In what way would you say your journey of self-healing helped you to stop seeing religion as having the power to dictate your worth?

I let go of religion dictating my self-worth a while ago. But then I let other things [take its place]. I used to seek external validation from the church or from my parents or from older mentors in my life. I let that go as I became a young adult and then I started giving other things power to do that. Like success and relationships. I let those things dictate my worth. But then I started delving into the power that intrinsic happiness has.

We really fully don’t have control over what happens in our life. We have some control, but very little. And if your worth can come from within, then those moving parts of life have less control over you or less effect on you … once I learned that, I was able to focus more heavily on, “Let’s have this voice in my head be kind and then I can go from there.” Just me practicing being kind to myself first kind of put this armor up around me and it helps me navigate the world.

What’s changed about your songwriting process since you’ve taken on more personal strength and inner compassion?

For a long time, when my inner voice was more critical and cutthroat and editorial, I couldn’t really write. I wasn’t able to get the thoughts just out of my head and onto the paper, which is the first step you know? Then you have something to work from when you’re able to just say what you feel. But I was just so scared to write a bad song that I wouldn’t write anything. And I think that’s the worst mistake you can make. There’s no harm in writing a bad song.

I think that it’s just about setting the bar, taking a chill pill and [remembering], “Oh yeah, songwriting is fun, songwriting should be fun.” It should be a way for me to get an outlet, a way for me to get this out of my head and look at it. So removing the critical voice is huge. And that was connected to therapy and to me slowly learning how to be kind to myself and slowly learning how to just enjoy writing songs again.

Where, with whom, or in what, do you find your hope and strength to persevere when life feels overwhelming or your inner reserves are running low?

The past or other people’s experiences really help me. I read a lot of Patti Smith and sometimes I’ll just open to a random page and it’ll be the piece of advice that I needed. So definitely words and art and poetry. Another thing would be when I’m feeling, “Okay, all hope is lost,” I have this urge to just run to nature and I just go to the mountains or go sit by a river for a long amount of time and think and meditate and try to put my problems and my fears and everything into perspective. I think, “Well, I’m on this planet right now and I’m sitting by a river. How cool is that?” Just kind of zooming out and not zooming in so closely – that helps me. And like, just good friends and just laughing and having buddies that you know you have a drink with or dinner with and just fuckin’ laughing about the crazy things that have gone wrong. Like, laughter is huge. I know it’s like, “Oh, laughter is medicine,” but it literally is.

Photo Credit: Alysse Gafkjen

MIXTAPE: Mick Flannery on Melody and Meaning

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Most songs stay in one musical scale or “key.” In this key there are 6 chords which are widely used. The 1 chord is the root chord, usually used to end the song and give a definite feeling.

Chords 2 and 3 are sad sounding minor chords in most cases. Chord 4 and 5 often give a feel of expectation to the ear, willing the melody back to the root (1) chord. The 6 chord is a relative minor to the root, often sad sounding.

In my opinion, some of the most successful moments of empathy occur when the feel of the chords and melody marry in harmony with the meaning of the lyrics. The lyrics themselves can also provide a musical feeling, the choice of vowels can marry to emotions, the consonants selected can give a nod to drum-like rhythm. I will try to give some examples here. – Mick Flannery

Bob Dylan – “Changing of the Guards”

Dylan uses a mixture of metaphors for social struggle and revolution in this epic song. The frequent use of the root chord and its relative minor at the end of phrases helps to add weight to the lines. This gives the song a definite feel, as he is ending on these strong chords as opposed to chords 4 or 5, which suggest a question unanswered.

Bob Dylan – “Baby, Stop Crying”

An example of melody marrying to feeling. The line, “Please stop crying,” is expressed with a longing in the melody concurrent with the meaning of the words. Also, “You know, I know, the sun will always shine” has a comforting feel in the melody with the word “shine” being on the root chord, helping it to sound definite and consoling.

Adele – “Someone Like You”

The top of the chorus in this song works very well between meaning and melody. The word “nevermind” is dismissed in quick order, as it would be in common parlance, giving a natural, talkative feel. The internal rhyme of “mind” and “find” gives a rhythmical feel to the line as a whole, allowing the listener to imagine a snare sound on the “I” vowels. The use of this internal rhyme makes the song universally easy on the ear, even to non-English speakers.

Lana Del Rey – “Video Games”

“It’s you, it’s you, it’s all for you, everything I do…” This whole line is placed on a 5 chord, which gives a feeling of something needing to be resolved, so the listener doesn’t know if the narrator is placing her trust in the right place.

“I tell you all the time” lands on a 4 chord – again, an expectant feel – making the listener wait for the line, “Heaven is a place on earth with you” landing on the 1 chord. This gives a definite note to the feeling, but narratively the listener is still left unsure if the feeling is requited, owing to the amount of time spent on uncertain footing in the melody.

Arctic Monkeys – “Fluorescent Adolescent”

The quick, rap-like nature of the verses are aided by the use of short vowels (“I” “E”) and short-sounding consonants like “T” and “K.” The line, “Flicking through your little book of sex tips,” almost sounds like a rhythm played on a high-hat, because of the choice of words.

Tom Waits – “Martha”

The chorus here leans on long vowels to intone nostalgia, “Those were days of roses, poetry and prose and… no tomorrow’s packed away our sorrows and we saved them for a rainy day.” The choice of words echoes a longing and almost sounds like a groan of regretful realization, as per the theme of the song.

Blaze Foley – “Clay Pigeons” 

In this soft and low intoned song, Foley utilizes “T” and “K” with short vowels to inject a spot of rhythm in the line, “Gonna get a ticket to ride.” The line, “Start talking again when I know what to say,” lands on a 4 chord which has an unresolved feel, marrying well to the meaning of the line, wherein we hear that the narrator has not yet reached a certain point.

Anna Tivel – “Riverside Hotel”

“Someday I’m gonna laugh about it, looking down from heaven’s golden plain,” moves from the 4 to the 1 and then 4 to 5. “Someday” marries nicely with the unresolved feel of the 4 chord. Ending on the 5 leaves the listener waiting for a resolve, which comes on the root chord in the line: “But for now I’ve found some piece down by the water, just to watch a building rise up in the rain.” This line uses a root chord on “for now” which gives a reassuring, steady feel concurrent with the sentiment.

Anna Tivel – “The Question”

The title of this song in itself sets the listener up for an unresolved feeling. The use of long “A” sounds (razor, saved, saving, hallelujah waiting, raise, etc.) leading up to the line, “A prayer that never mentioned,” works very well, as it sounds like an expectant chant. On the last words, “The glory of the question and the answer and the same,” the word “glory” lands strongly on the sad sounding relative minor chord, while the line ends on an expectant 5 chord. This gives a juxtaposition, the narrator has seemingly answered a question, but also left it open to further thought because of the use of this uncertain chord underneath.

Eminem – “Lose Yourself”

This song is a masterclass in internal rhyme. The lines of the verses are so phonetically intertwined that they begin to sound like the components of a drum kit. This is easy for the human ear to digest even in an unknown language. The fact that the lines make perfect sense narratively is the “icing” achievement.

Tom Waits – “Hold On”

Long vowels in the chorus marry to the meaning of patience and perseverance. In meditation, long vowels are used in calming chants, which is echoed here in the repetition of  “Hold on.” This feel is broken up slightly by the words “take my hand” where Waits accentuates the “T” and “K” to give a burst of drum-like rhythm.

Photo Credit: Susie Conroy

BGS 5+5: Julian Talamantez Brolaski

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Artist: Julian Talamantez Brolaski
Hometown: Goleta, California
Latest Album: It’s Okay Honey
Personal Nicknames (or rejected band names): Julian & the Knockouts

Which artist has influenced you the most … and how?

JTB: Probably the poet William Shakespeare. I know that sounds cliché to say. I love the way he combines words which have their roots in Old English with words of Romance origin, like his line: “The multitudinous seas incarnadine / making the green one red.” He drank deep from the fount of English, and I’m grateful for what he gave us — language that sings.

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

Poetry, in both its written and oral forms. I think of folk music as a kind of oral poetry. And I love to see the trajectories of the way songs are passed down, change, and mutate, like a game of Telephone. The song “In the Pines,” for instance, or “Wildwood Flower.” There are so many versions of those songs, and stories around them, wayward histories, misheard and remade lines. I like to think of my songs as operating in that tradition, rhyming and stealing, dressing up old songs in new clothes. My song “Goodbye Brother,” for example, is a rewriting of the Carter Family song “Lula Walls.” And “Covid-19 Blues” is basically a ripoff of “Long Gone Lonesome Blues” by Hank Williams.

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

I do these vocal warmups before I sing that a teacher in Philadelphia taught me. They’re very annoying sounding, like a bratty baby crying, and then like a whining witch, and so I get kind of self-conscious doing them, but it really makes a difference. I meditate and try to get myself into a calm place, and focus on my intention to really be there with the songs, to sing them with my heart, and to give my all for the audience.

What has been the best advice you’ve received in your career so far?

My grandmother Inés told me whenever you are speaking or singing, always do it from your heart. Over the years, I came to understand that that is not a metaphor, that the feeling is actually quite literal, and bodily. So I try to feel that heartspace physically, and to remember to direct my songs from there. I think that’s a good piece of advice for life, too.

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

I live near the ocean in Goleta, California, near Santa Barbara. I love to sit and feel my toes in the sand, walk along the cliffs, smell the enmineralated air. I go to the ocean whenever I feel upset, and it always helps me. Sometimes, I write poems down there, or I bring my guitar and sit on my tailgate and watch the water. It’s very meditative to be in the water, too, swimming or surfing, and it’s humbling and exhilarating to feel the ocean’s power. I always get ideas in the water — if someone could invent a wetsuit with a zipper pocket for a waterproof notebook, that would be amazing.

Photo Credit: Owen Duncan

Basic Folk – Kara Jackson

Posted on by Shelby Williamson

Kara Jackson has a mind like a diamond and a voice like maple syrup. She has always been drawn to music as a medium, but you probably first heard of her as the National Youth Poet Laureate. Cutting her teeth as a performing poet gave Jackson a huge public platform as well as a sense of how form can be a foundation for expression.

LISTEN: APPLE • SPOTIFY • STITCHER • AMAZON • MP3

Now, at the ripe age of 23, Jackson has released her stunning debut album, Why Does The Earth Give Us People To Love. As the title suggests, this album reflects on love and loss. Kara has some fantastic insights about how embracing grief, and sharing it with others, can lead us to a healthier culture. She also shares about how her parents’ political convictions have influenced her concept of an artist’s role in the world.

One of my favorite moments in my conversation is where Kara articulates how she sees her work in conversation with Black artists who came before her. What a gift, to hear a brilliant young artist speak so clearly about how their creativity fits into a bigger tradition. We cannot wait to see what she does next.

Editor’s Note: Lizzie and Kara talked about Kara’s poem “anthem for my belly after eating too much” at the top of the interview. Read it here.

Photo Credit: Lawrence Agyei

LISTEN: The Two Tracks, “Canyon Wren”

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Artist: The Two Tracks
Hometown: Sheridan, Wyoming
Song: “Canyon Wren”
Album: It’s a Complicated Life
Release Date: August 25, 2023

In Their Words: “I started writing ‘Canyon Wren’ as a series of two poetic pieces inspired by pictures from our place in Baja, Mexico, one of which is the cover of the single. From our place there, the sun rises over distant mountains and shines right into the faces of breaking waves along the Pacific coast. You check the surf while the arroyos and hillsides buzz with the sound of birds. The canyon wren is one of those birds. Often there can be fog, or dew hanging in the air – an elusive hint of moisture in this otherwise dry place. We love the calm, quiet, empty feel of those mornings as the landscape wakes up and I tried to capture a bit of that scene, and our time spent down there. Julie and I love empty, wild places as much as we love the busy life of performing music. I was musically inspired by the laid back, chill vibes of early J.J. Cale records, which I’ve listened to a lot over the years while driving through Baja, and tried to channel that sound into this track.” – Dave Huebner

Photo Credit: Jenae Neeson

LISTEN: Peter Mulvey & SistaStrings, “Soft Animal”

Posted on by Editor

Artist: Peter Mulvey & SistaStrings
Hometown: Milwaukee, Wisconsin
Song: “Soft Animal”
Album: Love Is the Only Thing
Release Date: August 12, 2022
Label: Righteous Babe Records

In Their Words: “The title and first line of ‘Soft Animal’ are lifted from Mary Oliver’s transcendent poem ‘The Wild Geese.’ The rest of this love song, which I wrote while falling in love with the woman who would become the prow of the little boat that is our family, navigating through all the stormy waters of recent years, hews closely to Mary Oliver’s sentiment, ‘You only need to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.’ The whole song is full of shoulders, and eyes, lips, hands, ears, hips, as well as the fleeting things that arise from our bodies: footsteps, shadows, despair, laughter, anger, belief. This love song is the truest version of love I could manage, and I will (and did) stake my whole life on it.” — Peter Mulvey

Yellow Couch Management · 02. Soft Animal MSTRL2

Photo Credit: Amos Perrine

WATCH: Glenn Echo, “Moon Seems Lost”

Posted on by Editor

Artist: Glenn Echo
Hometown: Northeast
Song: “Moon Seems Lost”
Album: Fixed Memory
Release Date: October 15, 2021

In Their Words: “A nod to the intimate, ‘Moon Seems Lost’ explores the topography of bodies in union, and of beings in relationship. This song was written at a time when I was reading a lot of Pablo Neruda, specifically his Odes, and the seasons were changing. With this song I wanted to focus on the connections between seasons and physical intimacy, trying to really zoom in and magnify small sensory moments, similar to what Neruda does in the Odes. In the song I explore the changing of bodies overnight, like the image of roots growing, entwining, and hardening, and also the image of transitions within the self, a molting of an exterior like the metamorphosis of a butterfly. Time plays such an important role in Neruda’s poetry, and I wanted to do the same through songwriting. My producer Peter Brownlee and I explored this by starting the song off as intimate as possible, almost as if I was playing right next to the listener in a room, then morphing to an expanse that feels enveloping.” — Glenn Echo

Photo Credit: Ariana Dixon

BGS 5+5: Kelley Mickwee

Posted on by Editor

Artist: Kelley Mickwee
Hometown: Austin, Texas, by way of Memphis, Tennessee

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

All of the elements. Mother Nature, the universe and the natural world are my religion and informs my spirituality, so I’d say nature inspires everything I do. As far as on the daily, I have to do something outside at some point no matter what the weather or where I am or how busy I get. It could be anything, from digging and planting in the garden, pruning, cutting the grass, and watering the plants to taking long hikes with my dog, Moe. If I am in town, you can usually find me at one of our off-leash dog hiking trails with Moe. It’s very centering and really impacts my mental health and general well being. Especially when the sun is shining. And THAT, in turn, gives me the inspiration, energy and right mindset to sit down with a pen or with my guitar to work on a song. Or do anything, really.

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

Not enough. Ha! I learned pretty early on as a songwriter that for me to write the best lines I can, I have to just speak from experience from the first person and be as open and honest as I can or am comfortable. I definitely have many “character” songs about other people or from their stories, especially songs that are co-writes, because then you are sharing a narrative with another writer so who knows how many people/experiences are wrapped up in that one song? But, in general, I tend to write from a first-person experience or relationship. Especially if it’s a song I write alone or start on my own before sharing with a co-writer.

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

I think as songwriters, we are constantly getting input from all kinds of sources and storing it away for when we sit down to write a song. This could be anything from a conversation we had, or another song we heard on the radio, or a movie we just watched. I have written several songs from quick lines I wrote down while watching a film or a documentary. And I am always searching for inspiration and guidance from poetry, especially lately. I took an online poetry course in 2020 and it really gave me some new tools to use when writing lyrics.

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

This one was easy! A locally sourced vegan meal in London with Paul McCartney. I am actually a pescatarian who doesn’t eat or drink dairy, so not technically a vegan. But…when in London with Paul McCartney!

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

Every time! It is not easy for me to complete a song. Very very rarely do they just roll off the end of my pen, or float down from the sky, just waiting to be written down. I have many songwriter friends who have story after story of songs just spilling out of them and it makes me envious of that feeling. I do have one maybe two that came out, say, in a day. But even those were painful and agonizing at times. Like finishing a thesis that’s due the next day. Gosh! That sounds awful. I just mean, I want every line to count and be the best line it can be and as honest and original as possible. I think that’s where the good stuff lives. And so, if it takes me a bit longer to get there, so be it. Because the end result, a song I am proud of and can’t wait to sing, is SO sweet and rewarding, in all of the ways.

Photo credit: Taylor Prinsen

BGS 5+5: Carrie Newcomer

Posted on by Editor

Artist: Carrie Newcomer
Hometown: Bloomington, Indiana
Latest Album: Until Now (September 10, 2021)
Personal Nicknames/Rejected Band Names: My husband calls me “bunky” sometimes. 🙂 My bands have always been just The Carrie Newcomer Band. My first band was called Stone Soup.

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

I don’t think it happened for me in one moment. It was a slow turning, a claiming and reclaiming, a deepening. My favorite game as a little girl was called “Makin’ Somethin’.” I was always making songs, stories, and pictures; painting, sewing, and hammering together boards; cooking or putting on plays in the backyard. I was drawn to creating just about anything, and all these years later, I’m still inordinately happy when I’m makin’ somethin’. But it took me a while to truly claim calling myself a songwriter and poet. I went to school for visual art, then later got a teacher’s license. Both are honorable vocations, but I believe I chose them because it felt too risky to follow what I loved the most: music.

During that time, I was writing songs and playing music everywhere. When I finished school, music was calling. So I followed, not really knowing where it would lead me. But even as I stepped fully into a life in music, things continued to unfold. Something good happened to my writing when I gave myself permission to sound like a “Hoosier,” to claim my own authentic Midwestern voice. Something also shifted when I stopped following music business and started following what my songs were about — asking good questions, sensing a spiritual thread, our shared human condition, finding something extraordinary in an ordinary day. My life as a musician also shifted when I stopped believing that I had to be the best singer-songwriter and knew that all I needed to do and be was the truest Carrie Newcomer.

Today, I have released 19 albums. Music still continues to be a choice. A life in the arts means you must be willing to step right up to your next growing edge and lean in. So every day — even in this time of great disruption and uncertainty, when hope feels a bit frayed at the edges, I still choose to live like an artist, approach my life as an artist, and stay true, lean in and always keep “makin’ somethin’.”

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

I have always been a passionate reader. Of course, music has always moved me, but I am even more drawn to the way music and lyrics entwine to create something uniquely powerful. Many of my songs are inspired by literature (non-fiction and fiction) and particularly poetry. Songwriters have many ways they go about writing a song — if you ask 11 songwriters to describe their process, you’ll get 15 different ways they approach songwriting. My process often begins with writing essays, poetry, short stories and character studies. I have three books of poetry and essays: A Permeable Life: Poems & Essays, The Beautiful Not Yet: Poems, Essays & Lyrics and my newest collection Until Now: New Poems that will published as a companion piece with my new album Until Now, on September 10, 2021. I’m also a visual artist (mixed media and small sculpture) and visual imagery is always present in my songwriting. Oh, and I’m a passionate knitter.

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

I try to find a place to get quiet. I meditate, I find my inner center so that I feel more grounded when I step on stage. I’m not a natural performer. In fact, I’m pretty private by nature, which is not uncommon for performers. But I love people, and I love music, and I love what happens when we connect through music. There is nothing like it. Music, when it’s really flowing, comes up from something deep and centered and true. It reaches into the heart of the listener where the listener is deep and true. I imagine those of you reading might know what I’m talking about.

During COVID, we all had to learn how to do this heart-reaching in new ways. I turned to online streaming, as my husband Robert Meitus is (lucky for me) one of the co-founders of Mandolin, a high-quality concert streaming service that streamed the Telluride Bluegrass Festival and RockyGrass this year. Streaming was an incredibly different performance experience. If a live in-person show is an apple and recording a performance is an orange, streaming is kind of like a kiwi. It has many similar elements, but it’s also entirely different. The exciting thing I learned was that the spirit of music really can reach further and wider than I ever expected.

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

If I had a mission statement for my career it would be, “be true.” My work in the world is to express what it means to be authentically human with all its ache and awe, sense and senselessness. It’s to hold fast to the power of simple kindness, to acknowledge its messiness, and to be honest about where I most need to grow. My job is to lean into unabashed delight and to be with uncontainable grief. Music reminds me that working toward a better, kinder world is not a destination as much as an orientation. My job is to put into music and language the things we feel that have no words, to do my own inner work so that I can bring what I find there to my outer calling. My job as an artist is to pay attention and ask good questions — and, as much as possible — to be kind.

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

Natural imagery is almost always present in my poetry and songwriting. It is where I catch glimpses of something extraordinary (even sacred) in the most ordinary of days. I live out in the wooded hills of southern Indiana where years ago, the glaciers stopped their earth-smoothing slide south, leaving deep ravines and beautiful hills. I have walked these hills for years; these forests, creeks and small lakes have become old friends. On my wide, old-fashioned front porch, I love to sit and watch a big storm come in, to feel the drop in the barometric pressure, a rush of cool air, and then waves of summer rain. I love the quiet of the snowy hills, particularly the ones that are lined with elegant smooth beech trees. In senseless times, I take comfort in what never stops making sense, like trees and songbirds, like how the light changes in autumn and the world quiets in the winter. There is a song on the new album called “I Give Myself To This.” It is a love song about what I choose to release and what I fully embrace out in the natural world.

Photo credit: Elle Hodge

Harmonics with Beth Behrs: Courtney Marie Andrews

Posted on by Shelby Williamson

This week, in the final installment of our Americana April series here on Harmonics, host Beth Behrs speaks with folk singer-songwriter Courtney Marie Andrews, who has just released Old Monarch, a beautiful collection of poetry, and her very first of its kind. Beth’s own deep love of poetry makes for a perfect pair in this episode.

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On top of her songwriting and poetry, Andrews also had a deep passion for painting, and she and Beth discuss the difference between various artistic outlets and how she moves through a creative block, as well as the joy of creating art simply for the sake of creating art, not necessarily as something to be shared with the world — or with anyone, for that matter.

Growing up in the Sonoran desert of Arizona, Andrews has been influenced by the beauty and vastness of the desert since a young age, and the desert and nature in general continue to inspire her art and spirituality to this day. And as we will never know the answers to the major questions of the universe in this realm, she finds comfort in embracing the beauty in the mysteries of life, rather than in the answers.

Andrews discusses the feeling of recently playing her first live show to an audience since the pandemic began, reads us some poetry from Old Monarch, and so much more on this episode.

Also check out our first two installments of Americana April featuring Fiona Prine and Margo Price.

Listen and subscribe to Harmonics through all podcast platforms and follow Harmonics and Beth Behrs on Instagram for series updates!

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