Tag: poetry

BGS 5+5: Lyle de Vitry

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Artist: Lyle de Vitry
Hometown: Originally Lancaster, Pennsylvania, but I now live in Asheville, North Carolina.
Latest Album: Door Within A Dream
Personal Nicknames (or rejected band names): I have a lot of nicknames in my family. Pan, Chi, Fluffy Bundun, Lymees, Lyman are a few classics.

Which artist has influenced you the most – and how?

Nick Drake has been a long time favorite and he’s certainly one of my biggest influences. When I was about 14 or 15, I remember diving deep into his records and being so completely blown away by his guitar playing. I had never heard anyone play like that, and it opened up a whole world for me. At that point I wasn’t writing my own music, but I learned some of Nick’s songs and began exploring his tunings, which, to me, were so wonderfully strange and emotionally evocative.

When I started writing my own songs I would often use some of these tunings, as well as some other open tunings I picked up along the way from other artists. Eventually, I began inventing some of my own tunings, which is something I’m not sure I would have been as likely to do had I not delved so deeply into Nick’s work. Playing a guitar in an unfamiliar tuning helps me to get into that childlike, playful state where I’m making discoveries and delighting in them. Like trying ice cream for the first time or leaping into your first icy cold river. In those moments, there is no time or space to feel self-conscious – for your full attention is fixated on this new joyful experience.

I tend to be drawn to artists who sing more softly. In addition to Nick Drake, some of my greatest influences and inspirations include Jose Gonzalez, Sufjan Stevens and, in more recent years, Adrianne Lenker. It’s funny though, I actually have a really big voice when I want to use it – and at one point was considering pursuing a professional career in opera. We’ll see, I might decide to open up my voice a bit more as the years go by and I continue to develop my style. It won’t be opera, but I’m just excited about experimenting with the way I sing, volume level, vibrato, tone, range, etc.

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

When writing a song, I try my best to write lyrics that could stand alone as a poem. If I’m feeling stuck, I try reading some of my favorite poetry. Mary Oliver, Wendell Berry, and translations of the German poet Rainer Maria Rilke all come to mind.

I’ve always especially loved the work of Mary Oliver. She wrote a lot while walking through the woods and observing the world around her – always practicing looking with as much reverence as she could muster. I try to slow down and notice things like she did. It’s really a practice of awe and amazement – and often with regard to things that appear simple at first glance or that I might take for granted. Or that I just wouldn’t have noticed if I hadn’t waited a little longer and been more patient.

Along with poetry, visual art is another art form that plays a big part in my creative life as a songwriter. Sometimes when I’m experiencing a creative block, I’ll go into a period of just focusing on making really colorful and vibrant abstract visual art. It helps me get out of the self-judgment loop, and I find myself getting back to that kid that’s inside, playing with shapes and color just because it’s fun and not because I hope anyone will think it’s any good. And then I can take that mindset back with me when I return to my songs.

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

I remember singing my song, “To Be Adored,” for a close friend shortly after I had written it. When I looked up after finishing, he was smiling at me ear to ear and had tears streaming down his face. This same thing happened a few other times with other people – and I began to realize that I could really touch others with my music on a deep emotional level. I’ve always loved music with nostalgic and maybe even sad undertones, and so a lot of the music I make has this kind of feeling. The thing is, “sad” music always made me feel kind of… good? From the beginning, I think I knew I wanted to make sounds that could help people heal in some way, or at least serve as a form of comfort. When I started seeing the impact my music was having on people in real time, I knew I wanted to continue writing and sharing – with the hope that I too could be a healer and could help make the world a little more beautiful.

If you didn’t work in music, what would you do instead?

I would probably be a visual artist/art teacher. Making art has always been one of my favorite things to do – and, as I mentioned, it still sometimes plays a role in my creative practice at times. I’m often thinking about bigger paintings, murals, or other visual projects I want to be making, but usually I’m spending my free time playing music these days. I keep thinking about getting into wood block printmaking though and I just ordered some carving tools – albeit with the intention of creating some merch!

I do have a part-time day job assembling and setting up banjos for Pisgah Banjo here in Asheville – but it’s the most music-related day job I’ve ever had. When I’m done setting up a banjo part of my job is playing it to make sure the set up feels good, which I always enjoy. I also do a bit of private music teaching.

What would a perfect day as an artist and creator look like to you?

I usually need a lot of uninterrupted solo time to really get into a creative flow. It’s also super helpful when I can put my computer and phone away for the day and replace them with poetry books and/or nature walks. And as much as I love being out in nature, I must admit I would still want to retain my creature comforts. I’m envisioning waking up in a cozy cabin close to a lake, stream, or river. I’d come to consciousness feeling well-rested, listening to the sounds of insects and birds and the laughter of the water. Maybe it’s raining softly on the roof? But then the sun comes out, and it’s a perfect 75 degree day, breezy. I’d give myself ample time to rest and take breaks throughout the day, swim, exercise, cook, and eat delicious food… sign me up!

Photo Credit: Rita Kovtun

Donovan Woods’ Thoughtful New Album Grew Out of a “Midlife Crisis”

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Donovan Woods is not really the solid, secure man you might think you know through his thoughtful, deceptively soothing songs.

But he’s working on it.

“A lot of my songs are much more magnanimous than I am in real life,” said Wood, 43. “So I often am wrangling with that feeling of people thinking that I’m a very morally superior person, when in fact, the reality of me is not very close to that.”

Woods, a burly, bearded, soft-spoken Canadian who has been consistently releasing quality albums and touring since 2007 (except for the COVID years), recently released his new album, Things Were Never Good if They’re Not Good Now. It’s a typically solid offering from a writer who writes deeply personal songs, some of which work as mainstream country hits, like “Portland, Maine” for Tim McGraw.

Though modest and self-depreciating, Woods knows he’s come up with something special with “Back for the Funeral,” a song on the new album that captures the stage of life when the only time you see old friends is when one of them has died.

“After the service we’ll all meet up at the bar,” he sings. “Where my dad used to drink, now he just drinks in the yard/ And we’ll laugh about all the young dumb dreams we had/ And we’ll pretend we’re all only sad/ Because we’re back for the funeral.”

The song, written with Lori McKenna, is one of those that doesn’t seem like a new one. It feels familiar, like it’s always been there. McKenna had the title and it turned out Woods lived through the experience a few months earlier, when he returned home to Ontario to attend two funerals.

“Not all those details are exact, but I’m trying to get at that weird feeling of when you go home and you’re able to see it all at 30,000 feet for some reason, because you’re in the throes of grief,” he said.

In our exclusive BGS interview, we spoke about grief and mental health, poetry and Music Row songwriting, and more.

So I understand the new songs were influenced by therapy you underwent for your mental health. Is that true?

Yes. I’m as liberal as they come, but I think I still have this toxic masculinity in me. I do think that expressing need threatens my masculinity and it’s such a deep, ingrained thing in me. It’s embarrassing to admit, but I still do have those hang ups.

What kind of therapy did you have?

I had probably what would be considered a midlife crisis. … I felt like I was losing touch with my life slightly. I was unwell and I could tell [it was true] by the reaction of people in my life who weren’t particularly thrilled with me. I did some addiction therapy, I did some standard stuff and I did some couples therapy with my wife.

Like a lot of men, I wasn’t admitting when I was sad or when I was upset or when I was unhappy, because we love this image of this stoic individual that we’ve all grown up adoring — this unaffected, unflappable man. You’re trying to be that, because you think that’s the right thing to be for your family. I let that get away from me. I had become two guys, my internal self who knew that I was upset or hurt or I need something, and then this forward-facing person that I created, which was sort of a lie. I had to reunite those two things again, and I found it really difficult.

Your rather gentle singing sometimes belies the depth and the hurt in your lyrics. Is that an artistic choice you’re making?

That’s kind of just how my voice is. In the days before microphones, I don’t know that I would have been able to have this job. I don’t talk that loud or sing that loud, either. Singing is more like self-soothing to me than it is communication. I do it because I like it. It makes me feel good. When I’m stressed, I do it. It’s like being nice to myself.

Your lyrics are effective even separated from the music. Have you done any poetry or prose writing?

I appreciate that. My heroes are the people who are actually singing poets, like Paul Simon and John Prine. I feel like that’s what a singer-songwriter is at the core. … I will write poetry for myself now and then. I have tried to write short stories and I’m not good at it. I don’t know how to do long things. The idea that it can be anything is terrifying to me.

You must like Mark Cohn too, based on your cover of his “Don’t Talk to Her at Night” on the new album.

He’s kind of a high-water mark in songwriting for a lot of writers, especially men. There’s an elegance in his writing that is so unreachable to me. His American earnestness is not available to me as a Canadian. I always think I have to be self-deprecating or not showy in my writing. I think it’s just like the mindset of a Canadian. My dad is a big fan, and I have listened to him my whole life.

Do you have a family background that pointed you toward becoming an artist?

I grew up in a really working class town [Sarnia, Ontario], where everybody’s dad works in these petrochemical plants around the border of Michigan. My dad worked in construction estimating jobs. … My friends all work in petrochemical plants, or they work in adjacent fields to those plants. One of them is a chiropractor, which actually is adjacent to the petrochemical plants too, because everybody has a bad back in the entire city. … I was not a wonderfully artistic kid. I was given a guitar by my mom and I took like, four or five months of lessons. I just really enjoyed writing songs, and did it for myself for a decade before I ever did it publicly.

Is it true your dad named you after the folk singer Donovan?

I am. He’s one of my dad’s favorite singer-songwriters, along with Fred Eaglesmith. I got to tell [Donovan] that once, too. I’ve never seen anybody be less interested in something.

Do you still live in Canada with your family, or have you moved to one of the music industry cities in the states?

I have three kids. I have one ex-wife and my wife that I’m married to now. I live in Toronto mostly, and I’m in Nashville sometimes to write.

Do you do the Nashville writing thing where you have appointments and try to write hits with other writers?

I still have a publishing deal in Nashville, so I’m there writing sometimes with other people. I do it less than I used to, but I still enjoy that very much. I love other songwriters. It’s pretty rare that I don’t like a songwriter. So I enjoy that, that afternoon of trying to finish something.

And that’s worked out for you sometimes with hits, right?

There’s a song called “Grew Apart” that was a hit for Logan Mize. When somebody else wants to record one of your songs, that’s about as good of a compliment as you can get as a writer. It’s always really flattering. I hope [more of] that happens. … I mostly fail at writing Nashville songs. I fail like about 95% of the time.

You’ll be heading out on tour this fall to promote the new album. Are you looking forward to that?

I am always on the road more than I would like to be. But I’ve had much worse jobs. I enjoy 85% of it.

Photo Credit: Brittany Farhat

MIXTAPE: Books, Story, & Poetry by Ordinary Elephant

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

As humans, we have a history of turning to story for comfort, direction, and preservation – a way to keep the present alive in the future. Story can be found in books, poetry, song, and our minds and mouths.

This playlist starts with our song, “Once Upon a Time,” which was born of our turning to story in the deep uncertainty of early 2020, and is the opening track of our recently released, eponymous album. In this Mixtape, we feature songs that incorporate or allude to books, authors, poetry, or story, written by artists that inspire us to write our truest stories. – Ordinary Elephant

“Once Upon a Time” – Ordinary Elephant

When the world shut down in March of 2020, we found ourselves one show into a two-week Australian tour. After scrambling to get home, the quiet hit and the processing of a new world began from our Louisiana porch, deeply feeling the human instinct to turn to a sense of story when faced with intense uncertainty.

“Always a Little Less Time” – Justin Farren

“So I guess that’s always been the story of you and I.” Justin paints pictures with the specifics that draw you in and let you see yourself in his songs, then cuts straight to the truth. The impermanence and the importance of our time here. This song guts us, in the best way, every time.

“Nothing at All” – Clay Parker & Jodi James

“I’ve got books stacked on the bedside table, that are gonna make me well and able, but the light in my room is still burned out,” Jodi sings, as one of our favorite duos spins an ethereal tune of rejection and resolve.

“Walking Each Other Home” – Mary Gauthier

One of our favorite songs of Mary’s. Achingly beautiful, it details the uncertainty of a relationship ending, but also speaks to the broader idea of the unknown. “I don’t know how this story’s supposed to go,” she sings in the chorus, as it’s hard to know when we’re living it. But there is clarity and acceptance that “we’re all just walking each other home,” helping each other find our own stories.

“Under My Fingers” – Wes Collins

Wes is one of those writers who takes you places you didn’t know you needed to go. Both with his words and with his music. This song follows a writer’s thoughts, even alluding to the scarcity mindset that can sometimes take hold of creatives. The fear that it won’t last and the solution of surrendering to the pen.

“Paperback Writer” – The Beatles

The Beatles were Pete’s first musical love, showing up in his life around sixth grade and giving a wealth of melodies and harmonies to soak in. He studied guitar through their songs, which span so many genres, it was easy to get lost in their catalog for years.

“Windmills” – Mutual Admiration Society

The story of Don Quixote twisted into a song by one of Pete’s favorite songwriters, Glen Phillips. This song first appeared on Toad the Wet Sprocket’s 1994 album, Dulcinea. This version is from an incredibly underrated collaboration between Glen and Nickel Creek. Both of these artists changed Pete’s musical world, Glen being one of the first songwriters that he really dug into and in this collaboration, Nickel Creek introducing him to the world of acoustic music.

“Hemingway’s Whiskey” – Guy Clark

Guy Clark’s use of simple language to tell deep truths is unparalleled in the modern songbook. Here he salutes his admiration for another legendary writer, toasting with a drink, and reveling in the difficult work it takes to be a writer of that stature. Guy’s songs are revelations.

“I Ain’t Playing Pretty Polly Anymore” – Dirk Powell

We have the choice to perpetuate stories or let them die off. Some traditions continue to enrich our lives, but it’s important to realize when we’ve moved past them and when it’s time to draw the line between cautionary tale and normalizing certain types of violence. As someone steeped in tradition, Dirk makes an important statement about what songs are able validate, and that we can choose not to continue singing certain ones.

“The Other Morning Over Coffee” – Peter Mulvey

In remembering a conversation with a friend, Peter recalls talking about having lived lives “so full of poetry and adventure that if we died right then and there it would have been fine.” It’s a goal we can hope that some part of us is always aiming for. As the song unfolds, it becomes a perfect reminder that we’re all moving through the same world, the same bigger story, despite the difference in our details.

“Velvet Curtain” – Anna Tivel

Anna’s songs are movies, thick with imagery and emotion. She’s one of those writers who you’re thankful is walking this earth at the same time as you. This song shows us that sometimes there are words that need to be heard, and sometimes you’re unknowingly the one singing them.

“Billy Burroughs” – Jeffrey Martin

Jeffrey’s work tends to knock your socks off, right out of the gate. His rich voice and insightful command of language immediately demands your full attention. His background of teaching literature melds with his own writing here.

“Tailor” – Anaïs Mitchell

“When he said that my face he’d soon forget, I became a poet.” One of our favorite songwriters, Anaïs has a way of weaving a story that hits you in the softest spots. Here she spins a gorgeous warning of how easy it is to let others define our story, and that we can learn to tell our own if we remember to listen to ourselves.

“The Prophet” – Ordinary Elephant

Crystal came across a copy of Khalil Gibran’s The Prophet, gifted to her by a dear friend 20-something years ago. The bones of this song were hiding between the dog-eared pages, a discovery of self-love through returning to reminders of a love gone.

“Everything Is Free” – Gillian Welch

“We’re gonna do it anyway.” In lyric, and in delivery, Gillian shows us the power of song and story to persevere. Her voice and style are singular, and are always a welcome reminder to find comfort in the unique and truest version of ourselves.

Photo Credit: Olivia Perillo

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