Tag: queer

One to Watch: Boston-Based Alt Folk Duo Sweet Petunia

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

From the crosshairs of the Boston folk community and punk/DIY scene emerges Sweet Petunia, an innovative duo consisting of multi-instrumentalist songwriters Maddy Simpson and Mairead Guy. A synthesis of banjos, queerness, emotive lyricism, and life-affirming harmonies, the pair’s music explores the fluidity of futurity, even when anchored in centuries of tradition.

With two EPs and several singles under their belt, Sweet Petunia graces the ears of multitudes with an active touring schedule and their vigorous participation in the Boston music scene. The queer alt folk duo’s commitment to community and uplifting overlooked histories only deepen the resounding impact that their music inspires.

So, to start things off, how did the two of you first meet?

Maddy Simpson: We both went to Berklee College of Music and we got placed into the same ensemble, 21st Century String Band, taught by Greg Liszt, who is an incredible banjo player. One day we were supposed to have an additional rehearsal with another guy that was in the ensemble, but he stood us up (shoutout Rob with your Legends of Zelda beanie with a brim!) The two of us showed up for the rehearsal and he never came. So we just had 45 minutes to talk to each other. We ended up talking about our goals, the music we liked, and found out that we had a lot of similar likes and plans for the future. So we decided to get together and play some music. When we did, immediately we were like, “Okay, let’s be in a band.”

What does your musical chemistry with one another feel like?

MS: Well, we always joke that we’re related. I mean, we do sound very similar when we sing together. So it kind of feels like we’re like a family band even though we’re not related.

Mairead Guy: Yeah, I mean it just works – really well. Obviously we put in a lot of work into what we do. But a lot of it feels very easy when we’re playing and arranging together. We have similar intuitions about the way things should go, and that makes it really fun and special to play together.

What is your process like when you songwrite and arrange together? And what’s it like arranging with two banjos?

MG: Most of the time we come to each other with an almost-completed song. Sometimes we write together, but usually we come together once the song is pretty much finished and arrange it from there. And that’s just a lot of playing it over and over and over and over, trying different things and seeing what sticks and what pops out.

That works! How did each of you come to the genre and/or the banjo?

MS: I came to folk music through the folk revival of the ’60s. I listened to a lot of Simon & Garfunkel growing up and then when I was a little bit older, I got into the folk revival revival, so like Mumford & Sons, The Head and the Heart, The Lumineers, and that kind of stuff. I had no idea that was just the tip of a really big iceberg – I didn’t really discover true traditional music until college, when I got really into old-time music and ’50s country blues and that kind of thing.

The reason I started playing banjo is that obviously it was pretty present in the music that I was listening to like all throughout high school and my childhood, but when I got to college I had a dorm-mate who played banjo. He was a banjo principal and he would play banjo in the lounge and the laundry room – just everywhere. One day I told him that I was interested and he said, “If you buy a banjo, I’ll give you lessons.” So over Thanksgiving break I went home, bought a banjo, came back, and started taking lessons with him. And then I started taking lessons with other people at Berklee and that was it for me – it became my primary instrument.

MG: So, I grew up in Virginia. There’s a lot of traditional, old-time bluegrass around in that area and a lot of my family is pretty musical – my uncle and aunt and my great uncle and his longtime partner. We’re are all professional musicians and my great uncle was a phenomenal clawhammer banjo player. My brother plays the banjo and I’d always wanted to play it, because it’s such a beautiful instrument. When Maddy and I first started playing together, we had a lot of songs where we would trade our instruments around. When she switched to banjo I thought it was the perfect time to finally sink my teeth in and do it. Similarly to her, once I picked one up I was like, “Oh my God, why haven’t I been doing this the whole time?” Yeah, it’s an addictive instrument to play.

I noticed that the stylization of a lot of your lyrics is super unique and you have several songs with strong narratives. Can you talk a bit about the song “Quilt Too Big to Fold”? I’ve had it on repeat for weeks.

MS: Thank you. Yeah, I wrote that song for a class. We were given this assignment to write a story song. And I was thinking a lot and sort of had this refrain in my head, “All you do is sit all day and sew.” So I did some journaling about all of the things that you can sit and sew. Fiber arts are really important to me and at the time of writing that song I was really into embroidery and I was getting really into visible mending – dabbling in this world of fiber arts.

I started thinking about all of the different fiber mediums you can have. And I started to think about quotes. And then, obviously, I’m also gay. I had already seen the AIDS Memorial Quilt, so I began to look into it more deeply. The quilt was started by a lesbian and was just one of the many forms of activism that came out of the AIDS crisis. The song sort of formed around that pretty quickly. It was easy to write given the fact that I’m queer and then just creating this work of fiction where I did a lot of thinking about what it would be like to go through that, taking my own passions and interests in sort of like translating them into a historical lens. And it was really an interesting process.

Really, really amazing stuff. I also saw that you both played an integral part in Club Passim’s inaugural Pride show? Can you talk a little bit about that and what that was like?

MG: Oh it was all Maddie! Well, we played it together, but it was all Maddie.

MS: Mairead kept me sane – I was freaking out the whole time. I was given the opportunity to curate Club Passim’s first ever truly Pride-themed show. We’ve done Pride open mics and once we had a queer festival, but that was during COVID, so it was all online. So we’ve had some queer-centered events before, but this was the first ever show specifically dedicated to Pride Month.

I was given this opportunity through The Folk Collective, which is an initiative that Passim is spearheading right now. Basically, it’s a cohort of 12 artists and cultural thought leaders that live in and around Boston. Passim has invited them into the club to synthesize what the future of folk music could be like, since folk music has, in the cultural narrative, been seen as a really white-washed and male-centric genre. So it’s 12 people of varying marginalized identities and people of all ages and races and gender identities and sexual identities coming together to talk about what the future of folk music could look like.

I was given an opportunity through the Folk Collective to bring together six queer acts who are making music either directly inspired by or within the traditional genre. We had several performers who played super traditional instruments – I mean, we both played banjo and we had somebody who plays the mountain dulcimer, which was really cool. We had somebody else who did country blues and talked about gender non-conforming people in the genre. And we also had some incredible singer-songwriters as well. It ended up being a crazy night of celebrating queer identities and also celebrating the traditional music that everybody at Club Passim loves so much. It was very, very awesome.

MG: Hell yeah. Beautiful night – Maddie put so much time and effort and care into curating all of these artists and making this happen in such an important and cognitive way, and it was just such an incredible thing to ride along the coattails of.

Hopefully there are many more! In general, what does the community feel like in Boston, within the folk scene, and how do you see Sweet Petunia fitting into it?

MG: I think that Maddie and I have a particular perspective on it just because we work at Club Passim, so we see all the musicians that pass through. But I mean, as is evidenced by the event that we just had, there is a pretty wide community of queer and trans folk musicians who are drawing inspiration from traditional roots music. And even beyond tradition, things like the pedal or lap steel are becoming super popular in different genres of music. Even the banjo people are using electric banjo to get a super sick like electric guitar tone and that sort of thing.

MS: Yeah, I was just gonna say that we sit in a really weird intersection, because we’re not quite in the traditional folk scene. We’re also really established within the DIY scene as well, which is primarily indie rock and hardcore music in Boston. But because we exist in both circles we get the best of both worlds. Sometimes we get asked to play punk shows, but we also can play listening room venues like Passim.

Outside of the folk and Americana scene, what are your biggest influences right now?

MS: I love slowcore and also the huge bootgaze thing that’s happening right now. I feel like I exist in the perfect time to be 25 and into DIY music, because most of the music being made around here at this point has some bootgaze element.

Could you define bootgaze?

MS: It’s like shoegaze-inspired country music. Or country-inspired shoegaze music. Some blur into indie rock, some are just shoegaze bands that use country instrumentation or come from a place where country music is the main genre. The band Wednesday is probably the biggest right now. They sort of pioneered the genre. MJ Lenderman, Florry – there’s lots to explore if you look up bootgaze or countrygaze.

What about you, Mariead?

MG: I mean, definitely same. I’ve also really been loving a lot of hyperpop and pop music recently. Just like the energy in songs like that is so interesting. I’ve been thinking a lot about the banjo as a similar percussion to a drum machine in a super fast hyperpop song. I’ve been trying to think about ways to incorporate that because most of the songs that I write make you feel kind of bad, but I think it’d be kind of fun to write songs that made you feel kinda good.

I think you’re onto something! Do you two have any fun projects coming up?

MG: We’re working on a Dolly Parton cover EP. Every year for Halloween since 2019 (except for 2020 because of COVID) we have done a Dolly Parton cover set. And so this will be our fifth year of Dolly Parton cover sets. So we wanted to do a little something to commemorate it.

MS: Yeah, it’s gonna be really fun. That’s coming in October. There will be a bill for a cover show. So if people are local to Boston, they can come to that.

That is so exciting! So you’re our One to Watch, but who are you watching? Are there any artists, creatives, musicians, etc. that you’re appreciating especially right now?

MS: I think that my one to watch is Roman Barten-Sherman, the person from Passim’s Pride show who does traditional country blues. She’s incredible. She’s so good. She is so smart. And so well-read and knowledgeable about early American country blues. During her shows she’ll introduce every song with so much knowledge about the genre and people who play it. She knows so much about gender-nonconforming and trans individuals and Black women who have contributed to the genre. She knows everything – it’s crazy. And then she’ll play the song and it’s the best fucking thing you’ve ever heard. She’s just so good. I think she’s going to take over the world. She’s my one to watch.

MD: I definitely second that – she’s one of the people I was thinking of. I would also say Jarsch. Just absolutely incredible, visceral songwriting. Beautiful lyricism relating to both the pain and joy of queerness and gender and life itself – religious trauma, all sorts of things. Everytime I see her play I literally just cry and cry. It’s so beautiful. She’s the only person I’ve seen able to yield a guitjo in an appropriate manner, and she just has so much love for what she’s doing and the community she’s in. I feel very lucky to know her. Definitely a one to watch.

Photo Credit: Barry Schneier

Out Now: Wild Ponies

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Wild Ponies is a country-folk duo composed of Doug and Telisha Williams. As partners in music and life, they have developed a cohesive and refined sound. Their album, Dreamers, is out August 23, 2024. The album is an exploration of life, love, and loss, covering joy and grief, queerness and polyamory, and their journey pursuing fertility treatments. It’s a beautiful and touching collection of songs.

Before crafting Dreamers, the duo were asked by a fan where their dreams were. They reflected on the idea of where, not what, their dreams were and their response was, “Our dreams are everywhere, buzzing around like energetic bees… At times, our dreams are hard to wrangle – a wild pony…”

This idea of dreams set the concept for the new album. We are excited to dive into Dreamers and Doug and Telisha’s experiences as touring musicians in a queer, polyamorous family.

What does the album Dreamers mean to you personally? What excites you the most about sharing this release?

Telisha Williams: This record is very personal. We talk about becoming a polyamorous triad, being queer foster parents in the state of Tennessee, struggling with fertility issues, working on being more mindful. It’s basically a peak into our home, hearts, and heads. I’m excited about the way it sounds. Brandy ZDAN did a beautiful job producing this record. The band is amazing, and we couldn’t be more proud.

Doug Williams: Dreamers is the story of who we are. It’s not all easy and it’s not all pretty, but it’s all true. I love this record. Maybe that’s not something I should say about our own work but it’s true – I’m really proud of it.

Your song “Heartbeat” touches on your experience with fetal embryo transfer and even includes your child’s in-utero heartbeat. Is there anything you’d like to share about your journey with fertility treatments?

TW: Doug actually wrote that one after we thought that we had lost our pregnancy. We had a pretty traumatic “episode” when I was at about 5 weeks and we were sure that she was gone. The next morning, we went in for an ultrasound and there was her sweet little heartbeat on the screen. Strong and healthy. My process to becoming a mother was challenging and worth it. Our first embryo was a gift from a dear friend and we were so excited about the possibility of raising our genetic siblings together. Unfortunately, that one didn’t take and we didn’t know how to move forward. Our implications counselor connected us with another woman wanting to do an open embryo adoption. We met over zoom and now, we’re family. She has 2 boys that are the genetic siblings of our daughter. They live nearby and we all get to spend time together. It’s been an incredibly generous journey.

DW: This one was tough to write. We were sure we had lost another embryo. Sure of it. It was pretty difficult. So, we scheduled an emergency ultrasound, but we weren’t feeling good. The joy and tears when we saw that heartbeat on the screen is something that I just can’t describe. I tried to describe it in the song. Just pure joy and gratitude.

How do you balance a career in the music industry and touring with your roles as parents? How does polyamory play a role in this for you?

TW: We’re still figuring that part out. There are some advantages of being a three-parent household. Our partner Laura also travels for work as a photographer and we’re able to help each other as the parents that are holding down the homefront from time to time. We also enjoy traveling all together as a family of 5, but it’s hard to find room for the bass. [Laughs]

DW: I don’t know that there is really a good balance. Accepting that makes it easier, maybe? When you know it’s just going to be a little fucked from time to time, it’s just not as much of a surprise. But we’ve got to prioritize what’s best for the kiddos. And, I do think it’s good for them to see the possibility of living life on your own terms. That’s what we want for them, so we try to model it.

Is there anything you’d like to share with our audience about queerness, polyamory, and love, and how these experiences can vary for different people?

TW: We didn’t necessarily seek out polyamory. Doug and I are both bi/pansexual and have had an ethically non-monogamous relationship for a long time. When we met Laura and started spending time together as friends, we started having “more than friends” feelings for each other. We realized that it didn’t divide or diminish our experience as a couple. If anything, we felt stronger and more connected with each other and Laura. That realization that love was not a finite resource changed everything for us. We know that this relationship model is not for everyone. It requires a great deal of communication and intentionality, but we couldn’t be happier or more proud with this dream that we’re creating.

DW: Yeah, it takes a lot of communicating. A lot of talking. Check-ins. Podcasts. Books. Like Telisha said, we kept a lot of our identity fairly quiet for most of our career. It feels really good to be able to completely live our lives out in the open now. It can be a little scary in the state of Tennessee at times, but at this point it feels like the right thing to do is stay and fight to make it better here. Hopefully we’ll be able to continue to do that and make is safer not only for us, but for the rest of the queer community as well.

For anyone reading this who might not be out of the closet, were there any specific people, musicians, or resources that helped you find yourself as a queer individual?

TW: I can’t name anyone specifically, but I will say that when folks from the LGBTQ+ community show up at our shows or events we’re hosting, it means the world. Feeling seen and supported by this community has transformed me as a human and helped me to be more open and available to support others in and out of the community.

DW: That is a good question. Honestly, just our community. For us, or for me, it just took a lot of talking and a lot of checking in with folks we know. Friends who were already out and very public.

Who are your favorite LGBTQ+ artists and bands?

TW: I mean, we have to acknowledge what Brandi Carlile has done for our community, right?! She’s really elevated and supported the LGBTQ+ community in so many ways. From there, I’d say my friends, Heather Mae and Crys Matthews. I’m inspired by the music of Adeem the Artist. The community is strong and talented, y’all.

DW: Oh yeah, all of the above – I was so blown away by Adeem The Artist! Such amazing songs. And Crys and Heather both have killer new projects. I also love Ana Egge, Anne McCue, Amelia White, Aaron Lee Tasjan… just all of our friends, I guess.

What does it mean to you to be an LGBTQ+ musician?

TW: It means that I can sing about all of it. I don’t have to hide in the stories and the pronouns. I can share the beauty of the love I am so lucky to have in my life. I can share it out loud, and I dress in way more colors than I used to. Taste the Rainbow, people!

DW: [Laughs] I love T’s answer. Yeah, it’s new for us to be so public about our identities. We were mostly closeted for a long time. Definitely publicly [closeted]. It feels so good to live our authentic life in front of people now. There’s so much joy in it. So much love. It’s a powerful and beautiful thing that we weren’t sure we’d ever feel comfortable sharing so openly and now I wish we’d done that a long time ago. It took us a while and it was a slow coming out even when we started the process.

What’s your ideal vision for your future?

TW: We want to keep making art and connecting with people. That’s been our drive all along. That connection and building community. We plan to tour more intentionally in the coming years, because home has a bit more of a pull with the kiddos and family, these days. We also plan to travel with them, introduce them to the amazing community of music fans, and show them that families are made, not just born.

DW: Yeah, the ideal vision would be a life where our family and our career work together. We’re definitely finding ways to do that. It’s difficult, but I don’t think it’s impossible.

What is your greatest fear?

TW: I guess, since the pandemic, I’ve been a bit afraid of losing myself as an artist. When we couldn’t get out and “do what we do,” we weren’t exactly sure who we were anymore. It turns out that we’re still as connected to those fans and friends as we’ve always been, it just looks a little different now.

DW: Woof. You mean other than a second Donald Trump presidency? I don’t know – I think again, honestly, it has to do with identity. I love my new role as “Daddy.” I just want to do a good job and take care of these kids. I also really want them to see that it’s possible to live an artistic life. I guess my greatest fear is failing them in some way.

What would a “perfect day” look like for you?

TW: Oooo! I’d get to sleep until the big number is on the 7, then I’d have a fun morning with the kiddos, take them to their amazing daycare, come back for a walk/workout, morning pages and some time to write or play music. Then, the afternoon, I’d intentionally filter through some emails, pick the kiddos up, play, play, play, throw in a dance party and a jam walk, and sing them to sleep. Then, I’d have a little connected time with my partners and hit the hay. Throw in a coffee, walk, or cocktail date with a friend a few times a week, and that sounds pretty great to me!

DW: A perfect day… High of 82 and sunny. Like T said, sleeping a little late would be such a luxury. Then a little morning time with the kiddos before diving into work. Do a little writing, play some guitar? Then around lunch time take a nice twisty motorcycle ride to a great taco truck about 45 minutes away. Come home, get a little more work done, hang with the family and have a great dinner together. After the kids go to bed, maybe read a little while or listen to some vinyl and enjoy a drink or two. And if we’re really talking about a perfect day, there’s a little more… but we’ll stop there.

Why do you create music? What’s more satisfying to you, the process or the outcome?

TW: I think the outcome is more satisfying to me, but I also love the process and I believe to my core that the process is more important than the product. I know that music has healing powers. I have experienced that first hand, so that’s why I create music. To heal and experience joy, share or release sorrow, express disappointment or hope. Music and emotions are directly related, in my mind, so in order for me to be healthy and happy and present, I need to be creating.

DW: We talk about this all the time! Yeah, we’re huge believers in the process being more important than the product. But, still, it’s such a great feeling to have a new little song and watch it go out into the world and connect with people! I think that’s why most artists create – the desire to connect, to say something. The good that the process is doing in our lives and in our heads is something we usually discover later. Sometimes that even happens with songs no one else will ever hear.

What are your release and touring plans for the next year?

TW: Dreamers will be released on August 23. We’re touring very intentionally for the remainder of the year with shows in the Southeast and Midwest, mainly. We’ll continue to tour in support of the record in 2025, balancing our time at home with our family and out on the road. We’re excited to see where this new record takes us!

DW: Yeah, intentional touring is the main thing, I think. We won’t play as many shows, so if you see us coming to your town, get tickets! We’re just going to be a little more precious with our family time. But, still creating art, still connecting, still holding community events. We’re so excited to get this record out. I’m really proud of it.

Photo Credit: Laura Schneider

Out Now: Madeline Finn

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Madeline Finn is a thoughtful writer and dynamic artist. Madeline transcends the boundaries of genre, crafting pieces that pull elements from folk, rock, and indie. Their songs are honest, relatable, and catchy.

Madeline feels that her role as an LGBTQ+ musician is bigger than herself and she values uplifting her community. She hopes to embody the queer representation that she longed for as a kid. In our Out Now interview, Madeline shares their vision for the future, their upcoming projects, and their journey into self-producing music.

We are thrilled to be featuring Madeline Finn at our next Queerfest show in Nashville at Vinyl Tap on Wednesday, August 7. The show runs from 7-9 pm and features four local LGBTQ+ artists. There’s a ticket suggestion of $10 that goes directly to supporting the artists. Don’t miss out on the chance to hear Madeline Finn live!

Why do you create music? What’s more satisfying to you, the process or the outcome?

Madeline Finn: I used to be more amped up on the outcome, but these days I have really fallen in love with the process. Mostly since I have started self-producing. It’s so much fun and I could do it literally all day.

You create within a wide range of musical genres including folk, rock, and indie. How do you navigate your identity as an artist who works across several genres?

Honestly, I have no idea. I’ve been trying to just let go and make music that’s fun and meaningful to me. Whatever the genre might end up being doesn’t matter that much to me.

What does it mean to you to be an LGBTQ+ musician?

Being a queer musician is a special thing. Especially because it’s becoming less and less special, if you know what I mean. I am one of many LGBTQ+ artists who make up a whole force of nature. I see my role as a part of the whole, a part of something way bigger than me. The more we uplift our community with art that speaks directly to the queer experience, I think the more healing can be done. The more healing that can be done within each individual, the more we heal the human experience as a whole.

I’m so jazzed on the queer music community and wish I would have had more folks like that growing up to listen to. Honored to be what I needed when I was a kid, now.

For anyone reading this who might not be out of the closet, were there any specific people, musicians, or resources that helped you find yourself as a queer individual?

Specifically, I found a lot of help as a kiddo from The Trevor Project. I also was able to find a safe adult/family member to talk to about it before I came out to my immediate circle. For those who are in adulthood I would highly recommend THERAPY!

You’ve been on the team at Wild Heart Meditation Center for a few years. What has that experience been like for you? Do you find that your meditation practice influences your music?

Wild Heart Meditation Center has been the single most important part of my personal growth and healing over the past five to six years. I came to the center interested in meditation and since then have fallen deeply in love with the practice and the teachings of the Buddha. It’s been so rewarding to be offered an opportunity to share that with the community and others as a facilitator. My practice influences every single part of my life, music included. It’s helped me let go of the craving that often surrounds a career like this, I have gained a deep freedom from contentment within my musical career. I honestly think you can hear it in the music. The shows are more fun for me, I am not afraid of what others think, not sitting around waiting for someone to give me my golden ticket. Instead, I know that I can rest in the reality of this moment and have a deep, non-attached appreciation for all the beautiful parts I encounter.

What has it been like for you to work with other LGBTQ+ artists in the music industry?

The LGBTQ+ music scene here in Nashville has been amazing. It’s this collaborative, joyful machine that just runs all on its own. Getting to hear music direct from artists like Autumn Nicholas and to play for so many other queer folks just gets me so pumped.

It’s like “Y’ALL WE ARE DOING IT!!!” I’d like to believe it’s deeply healing for my inner child.

What’s your ideal vision for your future?

My ideal vision for my future is to have chickens, mainly. If I can have a little space in the world with chickens, my wife, and my dog I am all set. Beyond that, I try not to set too many expectations for the future. Instead, I am really practicing following my intuition towards the next most meaningful step. One day at a time.

What are your release and touring plans for the next year?

I have been hard at work on my own record based on the IFS (internal family systems) model of therapy, it’s my first venture into self-production and I’m hoping to have it ready to start sharing singles by the end of the year.

My pop-rock project ENVOI just released a brand new album in May, so there is a chance we may be doing some live shows to support that. In addition, I’m working on a project with Liv Lombardi here in Nashville that is going to totally slay.

As far as touring goes, I’ll be around playing bass, guitar, and singing for a TON of artists throughout the rest of the year and there have been talks about an East Coast run for my solo material in the fall.

Photo courtesy of the artist.

Folk Singer Sam Lee Instills Hope and Inspires Action With ‘Songdreaming’

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Sam Lee’s musical career grew out of his environmental activism, from the Mercury-winning album, Old Wow, to his ongoing conservation project Singing with Nightingales. The British folk star’s fourth album, songdreaming, released earlier this year, is his most creative venture yet. It’s a manifesto for reconnection with nature constructed from luscious, haunting reinterpretation of the songs of the UK’s Traveller communities.

Its title comes from the summer retreats Lee leads that bring people together to connect to their land and ancestry through song: “Singing to the land happens across the world in Indigenous communities that still have their relationship to nature very much intact,” says Lee. “It’s ceremony, it’s devotional work, it’s prayer.”

We spoke to Lee about songdreaming, how he sources material, queerness, connection to nature, and much more.

Sam, your music is usually based on traditional folk song, but these songs go far further from the source material than you’ve ever taken them before.

I had done a little bit of original writing on Old Wow, but this is an album where almost everything is written by me, some to the point where there’s no semblance of the primary folk song left. And that was a big risk, because I’m quite shy when it comes to thinking of myself as a songwriter. It’s not like I’m a seasoned Johnny Flynn or Anaïs Mitchell. It’s not my training, and I’m a very reluctant writer, because I failed English at school. I’ve always had a great sense of inadequacy.

What prompted you to step out of your comfort zone?

It actually came about in an unusual way – the songs were originally commissioned for a movie, The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry. It was an adaptation of a much-loved book about a man who walks the entire length of the UK, a portrait of our connection to the land and the healing power of passage-making. I was already a great fan of its director, Hettie Macdonald – her first movie, Beautiful Thing, was seminal for me when it came out in 1996 – so I was really excited to be involved.

We arranged and wrote lots of songs to capture the mood of the film and some were used, but there were all these, dare I say, leftovers? Being the resourceful, waste-not-want-not type, I said, “Well, these all have something in them that is powerful.”

What was your writing process?

I don’t have one particular method, but the way I work is a bit like the way I interact with nature. I’m a forager for sonic and lyrical opportunity, seeing relationships within words in the way that I see relationships within the ecosystem. You start to find what Simon Armitage, Britain’s beloved poet laureate, will call the “neon” moments, things that suddenly shine.

Can you give an example?

Absolutely. “McCrimmon,” the third song on the album, is a ballad I learned from my late mentor Stanley Robertson, who was a Scottish Traveller. There’s a lyric in the original which is, “no more, no more,” but I heard it as “in awe, in awe.” Suddenly a whole song about the state of awe appeared.

There’s another track which is a love song between a fair maid and a plowboy – I recalibrated and reframed it, so it’s a more complicated relationship between species that are in a state of separation. The folk songs say everything already. I’m like someone taking a Shakespeare play, resetting it, maybe adapting some of the language, like West Side Story from Romeo and Juliet.

Which of the songs came easiest?

“Green Mossy Banks,” which is actually about pilgrimage, was so easy to write. It was like, “Oh my god, I’ve been wanting to write this song forever.” And they didn’t even use it in the film!

What is it in that song that you had been longing to express?

The story of the film paints this wonderful portrait of free passage – there’s never a moment where it deals with trespass or permissions or this idea of private land. No barbed wire fences, or angry landowners going, “What do you think you’re doing here?” One could walk from Devon to the borders of Scotland and never have any issue.

But there is no person in England who goes on a country walk and isn’t affected by our punitive, archaic, and utterly unequal private ownership laws. That’s why I was a founder member of the Right to Roam movement. For all its avoidance of politics, “Green Mossy Banks” is a deeply political song. Social and ecological injustice is at the roots of so much of our international crisis.

Is the UK not quite a good place to walk compared to, say the US? The English have ancient rights of way that allow them to walk across private land, whereas try it in the US and you might get shot…

Absolutely. But where does the US get their notion of land rights from? They were inherited as an enhanced version of British law at a time when, in England, if you were caught poaching a hare or something, that’s it, you had your hands cut off, or you were hanged, or sent to Australia.

On the music video for “Green Mossy Banks” we see you surrounded by various mesmerising English landscapes.

It’s a combination of many of the pilgrimages that I’ve made with Chris Park, a druid, and Charlotte Pulver, an apothecary. At cardinal points of the year – the solstices, the equinoxes – we lead communal pilgrimages to places like Stonehenge, or the South Downs.

Are there any songs on the album that were inspired by specific places?

“Meeting is a Pleasant Place” is very much about the Dartmoor landscape, down to the very tor that we filmed the video on. The exact location shall remain nameless, because it’s one of the few tors that exist in a forest, as opposed to Dartmoor’s sheep-wrecked landscape of denuded grassland. It’s deep in beech and oak forests, which makes it especially stunning.

And the song itself came out of a Devon Gypsy folk tune.

Yes, and it contains this rather mystical language that had become something of a mantra to me. “Meeting is a Pleasant Place/ Between my love and I/ I’ll go down to Yonder’s Valley, it’s there I’ll sit and sing…” It’s bad English, but at the same time so powerful in its ambiguity. It could be a love song between two people, but in that Gypsy corruption of the words, suddenly it speaks about something so much bigger. So then I wrote my three verses as a love song to the land.

The appearance of the Trans Voices choir on the chorus turns it into something epic and anthemic…

It’s English folk gospel, as I call it. ILĀ, who runs Trans Voices, is an old friend and when the choir was set up I said I’ve got loads of songs that I’d like to speak to the queerness of land. Folk song often tends towards the heteronormative, and I want to break that down.

In the liner notes you also talk about the queerness of nature, what do you mean by that?

When you look at relationships within the natural world, sexual or otherwise, what you see is massive diversity in roles and identities. In the fungi world, for instance, there are hundreds and hundreds of genders, working collaboratively in community. Humans, too, need to start to recalibrate the way we behave in nature. So much of our subjugation and exploitation of nature has come through a male-dominated worldview and it’s not working.

One of the species you have a great connection with is the nightingale – as well as singing with them in secret woodland gigs every year, you recently wrote a book about their threatened extinction.

Yes, and when I’m with them, for seven weeks each spring, I get this sense of what is it like to be in a relationship that’s falling apart. That heartbreak, saying farewell, and knowing that it has a time limit to it. That’s what inspired the opening track, “Bushes and Briars.” It was the first folk song Ralph Vaughan Williams ever collected, and it’s a lament of a man and a woman who are separating. As somebody who spends a lot of time in bushes and briars trying to keep a relationship with a bird going extinct happening, that’s a space that is very familiar to me.

Coming from a background of singing acoustically, outdoors, how do you work up the big, dense sounds that populate your albums?

I do my writing with James Keay, who plays piano in the band. We both want a richness of sound, so that what are often very repetitive lines and melodies can take the listener on journeys through different emotional states. It’s about trying to paint as big a painting as possible.

As well as strings and horns and pipes, you’ve added a more pan-global feel with a Syrian Qanun, and a Swedish Nykelharpa.

We wanted to create textures that gave a sense of both the ancient and the unusual. I’d never used a Qanun in an arrangement before, though I have used dulcimers before on almost every album, which are part of the same family.

Maya Youssef, Britain’s best-known Qanun player, features on the one folk song that you haven’t changed, “Black Dog and Sheep Crook,” about a shepherd being thrown over by his lover because he’s “just” a shepherd.

I’ve kept its truth and entirety – it just felt so wonderful bringing the tragedy and the melancholy of the Qanun into that song.

So often in this album you’re grieving our detachment from and devaluing of the natural world. But the spirit and purpose of the music, as you describe it, is also to re-establish those connections. What are your current priorities for climate activism?

At the moment, there’s a big campaign to get young people voting, and voting for nature, in the UK. Hope for me is always about having a plan. And there are many brilliant plans out there. It’s about overcoming apathy and resistance and reawakening people to what we have to lose.

I can’t speak to what I think the outcomes will be, I think that’s a dangerous thing to do. But I hope that the album has as many opportunities to instill hope and beauty as there are moments of doom and tragedy.

Photo courtesy of the artist.

Out Now: Great Aunt

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Great Aunt is an Australian folk duo composed of Megan Bird and Chelsea Allen. For a small outfit, they showcase a wide array of instruments – including mandolin, resonator guitar, acoustic guitar, double bass, percussive instruments, and vocals – with detailed harmonic arrangements.

Their music is groovy, with a foot-stomping feel as the base underlying relatable lyrics and stories, primarily drawing from Appalachian folk, bluegrass, and gospel music. Great Aunt is a duo with an impressive log of tours, festival shows, and releases that they’ve independently managed. Their most recent single, “What’s A Girl To Do Now,” covers issues around body image, identity, gender, safety, and equality.

We are eagerly awaiting the release of their debut full-length album, It’s All Downhill From Here, expected later this year. In the meantime, we are honored to highlight this incredible duo from all the way down in Australia, Great Aunt.

You just released “What’s A Girl To Do Now?” This powerful song addresses the struggles that women face around being “woman enough” – body image, identity, and more. Could you share more about the inspiration and meaning behind this song?

We started writing it when a lot of awful things were happening to women in our parliament that no man was ever held accountable for. We then spent a lot of time reflecting from our own place of privilege, as we watched First Nations women dying in [state] custody and the trans community being politicized and targeted by extreme acts of violence. We wanted to acknowledge how discrimination and acts of violence against women further intensifies at the intersections of race and gender. There’s a lot of work to do to support each other and fight for equity, where everyone feels safe, included, and as valued as any other woman. Space is infinite, there’s a place for all of us, except TERFs maybe.

You’re planning to release your debut full-length album, It’s All Downhill From Here, later this year. What has that process been like for you? What might listeners expect to hear from this much-anticipated release?

A diverse range of folk songs and a lot of personal stories to tell. We’ve been recording and mixing it ourselves with a vision to have some common themes throughout the album. Our main goal is to remain honest and sincere, and to try and translate that into the album.

As independent artists, what has the process been like for you to secure so many festival placements and shows? How do you balance the creative side of being artists with the business needs to book shows, attend conferences, and promote your music? 

We are fiercely independent! The balance is often skewed towards the business side of things with the amount of touring we’ve accomplished in the last 12 months, including three U.S. tours. The admin feels never ending, to say the least, but we both divide and conquer with festival applications, booking tours, and the PR side of things. We even do our own artwork!

Now that we’ve put in the effort, we’re starting to get invited to festivals and events around the world, which is really exciting. This year we’re balancing it in favor of writing and recording, while we start booking our next U.S. tour for 2025!

What’s your ideal vision for your future?

In the short sighted future – to continue touring the U.S., Australia, and abroad.

More importantly, we want to continue to embrace and help grow this music community so we can all thrive. We know that without the help of this community we really wouldn’t have had the incredible experiences we’ve had, so we will continue to pay it forward however we can.

What is your greatest fear?

We fear for all of us. That things don’t get better and we never find our way as humans. The feeling of being unable to make an impact or calling for change and it falls on deaf ears, is the crossroads a lot of us have been at for a while now. We see this as key as western countries enter the next round of elections.

What is your current state of mind?

Burnout and worry, yet still optimistic? Right now we make sure we find pockets of joy, away from our devices and the news.

What would a “perfect day” look like for you?

Starting off with a big pot of coffee… or two. Then sitting in our pajamas together, in our home studio, writing and recording music throughout the day, maybe sneak in a video game or two. Then we head to a show. It doesn’t matter if we or someone else we admire is on the stage, but it’s a room full of friends and heartfelt stories.

Why do you create music? What’s more satisfying to you, the process or the outcome?

It’s a form of communication and expression that is a part of both of us. Creating or writing music is a constant process of growth and exploration. When we “finish” writing a song, record it down, and release it, it still continues to grow and evolve as we perform it.

Do you create music primarily for yourself or for others?

Our songs start from personal experience, a reflection of something from our lives. While we don’t write music with an audience, we do hope that someone out there listening to it feels less alone, and can hold onto that connection.

What’s the best advice you’ve ever gotten?

That a career in music is a long journey.

Who are your favorite LGBTQ+ artists and bands?

Some of the best music out there right now is queer music, and the list is forever growing. Adeem the Artist, Jessye DeSilva, Wiley Gaby, Crys Matthews, Brittany Ann Tranbaugh, Julie Nolen, and the beacon of light that is Allison Russell! Oh my!

We also adore Flamy Grant, Karen & the Sorrows, Amythyst Kiah, Jake Blount, and some local Australian favs are Charlotte Le Lievre, Little Wise, the Double Dole String Band, Kerryn Fields, Hana and Jessie-Lee’s Bad Habits, This Way North, and the Tuck Shop Ladies.

For anyone reading this who might not be out of the closet, were there any specific people, musicians, or resources that helped you find yourself as a queer individual?

I, [Megan], was lucky enough to attend this place called Rock’n’Roll High School in Melbourne. It was a place started by Stephanie Bourke, an icon in Australian music. She created a safe space for young women, non-binary, and queer folks to start bands and taught us how to navigate the industry. On reflection, I distinctly remember I felt safe to be myself and finally found a place of belonging, where my queerness or size wasn’t singled out as an issue to fix. It was a significant turning point for me, and it came at the perfect time.

I came out when I was a young teen, and was fighting to live every day. I had the support of my family, but was constantly abused at school and even the school itself told my parents I didn’t belong. It nearly had a devastating impact. Please. Hold on. Find a space that makes you feel alive. Find people and community that don’t question or challenge your identity, and let you just be, that is your family. If you haven’t found it yet, please don’t give up. When you do find these people, the feeling of liberation will overwhelm you with joy. Great Aunt loves you, we’re rooting for you.

What does it mean to you to be an LGBTQ+ musician?

Being a musician helped me process and get comfortable within my own skin when trying to understand my own identity. We’re queer women, our music is written from our perspective, and our songs are literal stories from our lives, so it’s inherently queer music. We don’t underestimate the importance of visibility and allyship. It’s critical for us that our music is a safe space for everyone.

What has it been like for you as Australian artists touring in the US?

As folk music has such deep seated roots within American culture, we are always humbled by the breadth of the music community in the U.S. and how welcoming and supportive they have been to us. We reflect on how lucky we are to be able to do this, and the listening rooms we’ve played that have been full to the brim with people we now call friends. There’s no music scene like it.

What are your release and touring plans for the next year?

There’ll be a couple of U.S. tours, that’s for sure. Once we have this album out, we’re already thinking about another release to follow shortly after, and really want to make the most of a slightly quieter tour schedule this year.

Photo courtesy of the artist.

Out Now is presented in partnership with our friends at Queerfest. Learn more about this Nashville-based queer-centered event and collective here.

Adeem the Artist’s ‘Anniversary’ is a Complex, Deeply Moving Homecoming

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

In the press release for their 2024 album Anniversary, Adeem the Artist, the non-binary, self-described “cast iron pansexual” singer-songwriter, mentions that the album is queer country – as a genre, not simply as music made by queer people, but as a whole new thing. They also mention recording and creating with their child, their partner, and their tour manager, in a week off from touring in semi-rural Texas. The album is a deeply moving, hauntingly specific, and profoundly sophisticated look at the interweavings of family and a (literally) hostile landscape.

This is queer country – queer as a sexuality and gender and musical identity, but also as an indication of being a little askew, not really fitting plumb, as a political and personal identity. Here, a genre, Adeem notes, is a way of working against expectations or histories:

“Country music is important to me, because it’s so much tied into the dirt of where I grew up. It feels like a place I can comfortably speak from, in the authority of my testimony as a Southerner and a child of Confederates. That’s my responsibility, my calling. That’s why I’m making country records right now. It’s where I need to be, to be processing the things I’m processing.”

One of the ways of keeping safe in this landscape, while acknowledging and trying to make amends, is to move inwards, to lean on the “cast iron” of “cast iron pansexual.” This album moves from the outside – a world that is toxic and violent – toward one that is domestic. In the coruscating rock breakdown of “Plot of Land,” with its minute-long, Tom Petty quoting coda, Adeem sings:

And the politicians cast their lies like street craps,
And they sweep up every time
So baby I’m gonna find us a plot of land
With a little home to put a family in …

The plot of land is a long term plan, but there are moments in this record where you can see possibilities – of a loving home, of a rock and roll life, of a genderqueer Southern utopia, of the perfect dive bar meetup – falling out of an ambitious set of recordings. The too muchness of the album can be understood given it was made in a week, in a hostile place.

Adeem talks about how they made “Nightmare” in Texas, incorporating all the elements in their surroundings including “Isley’s laughter [their daughter], Kyle’s gentle presence [their tour manager], Hannah’s bouncing energy [their wife] as she pitche[d] hymns we could reference irreverently. That week away from the internet and the news cycle was a little insulation bubble that gave us so much room to breathe and feel safe. I don’t think this song could’ve been delivered with a different midwife.”

The midwife analogy is especially relevant to understanding some of these songs, particularly “Carry You Down,” where Adeem writes gorgeously about having and raising babies. The song is so gentle, so respectful of the autonomy of the child, but also filled with the details of domestic life that have become rare in country lately. In an album about adult pleasures and pains, it is a rest song, about carrying a child down the stairs when they ask to be carried, even if that interrupts “chorin’,” doing dishes or work in the garden.

If “Carry You Down” is a waltz, then “The Socialite Blues” is a romp about “staying up to the break of dawn/ making out of tune songs with you” – another kind of domestic, with “out of tune” its own kind of queerness. These songs have a sweetness, a refuge from harm, a way to escape not outside, but within.

The invocation of “out of tune songs” is a euphemism, but there are spaces on the album where Adeem is explicit about desire, as explicit as a country song has ever been, like in “Nancy,” which expresses exactly how difficult it is to fuck while on pharmaceuticals; or “One Night Stand,” about relationships that happen between last call and sunrise, but whose memory might, out of mercy and grace, stay on for “a lifetime of nights with him;” or “Part and Parcel,” where they sing, in gentle but urgent tones:

Take it all apart, it’s part & parcel
I came here with a strange and honest feeling
Chase all of these contradicting versions
Childhood perversions, & dreams that never steered
Let them drive a little while so that I can disappear

Those “contradicting versions” include being a child from the South, so the history here is not only personal, but social and political. There is a cluster of artists working out the history of the South right now – Justin Hiltner’s “1992,” Miko Marks’ Race Records, Willi Carlisle’s recitations of the failures of Appalachian and rural drug work, the entire career of Jake Xerxes Fussell, all of the ancestor work in Beyoncé’s Cowboy Carter. It might seem like Adeem’s work is personal, but all of this historical work flows from the personal to the corporate, an understanding of history that includes both last week and last century, trauma and joy twisting into a complex homecoming.

Homecoming for Adeem also includes the history of Knoxville, Tennessee; on the album’s last song “White Mule, Black Man,” they begin by asking if it’s too much to do one more, but after the end of the track, it’s clear that nothing could be more proper. Here, Adeem telling stories of the South, from Confederation onward, means taking racial politics seriously.

In almost exactly three minutes, they tell the story of a white mob rioting after a foiled lynching, the eventual coverup of that lynching, and the layers of myth-making and storytelling to prevent the truth from being revealed. Moving from talking to singing, somewhere between Peggy Lee’s “Is That All There Is” and Dylan’s “The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll,” the story in this final song laments, “But if the Tennessee River runs red with blood/ ‘Til the city runs white again/ Well, a white mule’s curse means more round here/ Than the last words muttered by murdered Black men.”

Adeem has been blunt like this before, tearing down the charnel houses of violent American racism and its myths, and this song is a deepening and extending of that practice. By ending the album on this note of violence, not as a lecture but as a moral accounting, that history work is ensuring that everyone is seen and known, their family is known, and the origins of their family’s prosperity is known.

Such knowledge is the necessary, sometimes haunting, sometimes delightful, attraction of Adeem as a person and “the Artist” – earning that sobriquet.

Photo Credit: Hannah Bingham

Out Now: Izzy Heltai

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Izzy Heltai is an indie-folk artist whose songs touch on themes like growing older, feeling lost, and finding yourself – his music resonates with many people. Izzy played the first Queerfest event, a virtual festival in 2021 hosted in partnership with Club Passim. His latest single, “My Best Friend Sam,” came out on April 25.

Izzy has a debut New York headline show coming up. If you’re in the area, be sure to check out his show at Union Pool in Brooklyn on Friday, June 21. Our Out Now conversation covers work-life balance (a large theme in his new single), his favorite LGBTQ+ artists, and his current state of mind. We’re so excited to highlight this phenomenal artist, Izzy Heltai!

Your lyrics cover themes that many people can relate to such as being anxious, growing older, self-esteem, feeling lost, etc. Do you write with the listener in mind for the relatability of these topics? Are you mostly thinking of your own experiences and emotions? Or are you considering both during the creative process?

Izzy Heltai: I think a lot of what I experience is universal. I think as we get older we all deal with issues of identity, anxiety, a sense of feeling lost, etc. I don’t really think about writing, or creating, for the purpose of being relatable. I think inherently what I write about is relatable, but the only way I can keep it authentic is by simply saying exactly what I’ve experienced. I don’t claim to know, or want to tell other people what they’ve gone through, all I can do is talk about what I experience.

Your single that came out last month, “My Best Friend Sam,” includes the lyrics, “I’ve wasted close to a decade chasing dreams and expectations / I wanna leave, I wanna stop everything / I wanna be hanging out with my best friend Sam.” How are you balancing a demanding career in the music industry with taking time for yourself and personal relationships?

Honestly, it’s been tough. This work exists in oscillations of highs and lows. One day it can feel like you have everything at the tips of your fingertips and the next day it can feel like everything’s falling apart. I’m trying to block out a lot of that. I’m trying to focus on what makes me happy about all of this, creating music with my friends, playing shows and connecting with people.

Recently, I’ve just been focusing on being in one place. Trying to be present, spending time with people I love, working on my next body of work and doing things throughout the day that make me feel the most present I can be. Reading, riding my bike, climbing, and writing songs.

What is your current state of mind?

If I’m honest, it isn’t the best it’s ever been. I broke my hip about a year ago and some things changed in my life that I had a hard time adjusting to. I’ve been refocusing recently and just putting energy into making things I love. Working on new songs I’m really proud of, investing in my friendships, riding my bike a lot, climbing with my friends. Things that make me feel grounded and most myself!

What’s your ideal vision for your future?

I love making my music, I love my friends here in Nashville and my routine, but I also love touring. Touring and playing shows, connecting with people, seeing new things, is such a big part of this for me. My ideal future consists of a balance between a routine at home, bike rides, yoga, rock climbing, writing and creating my next body of work, and a consistent sustainable touring schedule.

What would a “perfect day” look like for you?

This one’s easy. A sunny hot day, a very long bike ride, and cooking with my friends.

Why do you create music? What’s more satisfying to you, the process or the outcome?

I make music, because at one point I was a lonely, confused kid, and for some reason this was the way I processed the world. I’ll always make music regardless of who’s paying attention, but it’s easy to lose sight of that sometimes. I’m fully aware, with my identity, if my music reaches a certain level of success it has the power to really impact a marginalized population quite powerfully. I think my music becomes much more than “just for me,” because of that.

Who are your favorite LGBTQ+ artists and bands?

Lucky and honored to call her a close friend, Katie Pruitt is absolutely at the top of that list. Leith Ross, Ethel Cain, and Chappell Roan are other favorites of mine.

Photo Credit: Cait Frances

Out Now: Sadie Gustafson-Zook

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Sadie Gustafson-Zook is a detailed songwriter, pulling together collages of images and ideas and stitching them into melodies and lyrics. I met Sadie in 2019 at Club Passim, a renowned folk venue in Cambridge, Massachusetts known for promoting generations of great folk music. I was studying in Boston at the time, surrounded by incredible developing artists. Sadie was one of them, alongside Liv Greene, Jobi Riccio (featured before on Out Now), and Olivia Barton, another queer artist who came through the Club Passim folk scene and is now gaining traction.

We are excited to share our interview with Sadie the same week she releases the incredible new album, Where I Wanna Be (available May 10). Their thoughtful writing, pure voice, and creative guitar lines are sure to impress. Many of the songs on the album have a lullaby-like feel enhanced by Sadie’s soft voice and soothing melodies.

This month, Sadie is touring the Midwest with Brittany Ann Tranbaugh, who we also featured on Out Now earlier this year. They are powerful songwriters and performers alone, but seeing both artists in one show is a treat that you don’t want to miss! If you’re in the area, be sure to catch their tour through Wisconsin, Minnesota, Michigan, and Indiana.

What’s your ideal vision for your future?

Sadie Gustafson-Zook: Ideally, I would be able to keep doing what I’m doing, but slightly more of it. I think my music offers something special and I would like for more people to hear it. At the same time, I really do like living at least part of the time as a normal person who is in their house and has a cat and is a part of their local community’s life – so maintaining a sense of balance is definitely something I’m passionate about.

Right now, my ideal vision would be to play 100+ fun gigs per year (I’m not really interested in gigging for the sake of the grind – I mostly want to have a good time and hang out with people I love); continue teaching privately and at music camps (I’ve been really lucky to be able to do this at Kerrville’s Song School, Kentucky Music Week, and this summer I’ll be at Ossipee Valley’s String Camp); spend a lot of time in nature and with my family; and keep absorbing so I have things to write about.

Why do you create music? What’s more satisfying to you, the process or the outcome?

I create music because I think it’s fun to sing and play instruments and I like writing about my own life in a way that other people can relate to. Personally, I like being able to organize my thoughts into a nugget that is shaped like a song and that helps me sort out my emotions. And then socially, I love having the opportunity to share those songs and feel a broader sense of connection with people around me – and people who I don’t know! So, I think the process and the outcome are both things I really enjoy.

Do you create music primarily for yourself or for others?

In college, I was a voice major and I spent four years singing operatic arias. I didn’t initially think this was what I was going to spend my college years doing, but once I started singing in such a big and full-body way, I had a really fun time experimenting with the extremes of what sounds my body was capable of producing. But when I performed these songs written by classical composers I didn’t feel very connected to the essence of the music. I sang it for myself, because it was fun (and probably also because I wanted people to pay attention to me), but I wasn’t assuming that my performance would touch something deep in someone else.

Since then, I have shifted towards writing and performing original music. I enjoy writing songs that are fun to sing and I write based on what I’m going through and what I need to talk about. Ironically, this feels like a more communal act than performing music that someone else wrote. I have the greatest chance of connecting with an audience over a shared experience if I’m speaking directly from my own experience, and ultimately my biggest goal is connection.

You shared about maintaining a sense of balance between being in the music industry and living in a home, with your pet, surrounded by community. Many artists and music-industry professionals have a challenging time with this. How have you built a sense of balance between these things? Do you have any words of advice for others working through the same challenges?

I’m very privileged to have an affordable living situation right now thanks to moving back to my hometown in the Midwest and having my parents as landlords. This freedom has made it possible for me to pay my bills exclusively with music-related work, which helps keep morale high in the music department. So I just want to preface everything else I say with the acknowledgement that it’s a lot easier to feel balanced when I’m not constantly worrying about money. While my situation is a privilege, I also know that not everyone would want to leave their music city hub and move in across the street from their parents in Indiana! Ha!

In terms of time balance, I’ve been testing out the way it feels to have music plans that take me away from home for one(ish) week each month, with some longer exceptions in the summer. That has been a nice way to not get too antsy at home, while also giving myself time to do more administrative work and be present in my town between tours. My first year of living in Goshen, I was pretty lonely and spent most of my time online, which honestly was horrible. I was really craving more in-person connections, so this year I’ve been digging into local activities as well as being really intentional about seeing my songwriter friends’ shows when they’re in a nearby city. Even when I don’t feel like leaving my house or driving a few hours away to see someone, I’m almost always happy that I did.

Your music is so descriptive, thoughtful, and well-crafted. What was the process like for you to write these 10 songs on the new album?

Thank you! The majority of these songs were written when I was living in Nashville in the spring of 2022 and then also when I was traveling around, sleeping in my car that summer. I had just had a breakup in Seattle and had to figure out where I wanted to live and between those two major changes I had a lot of processing to do! I also was spending a lot more time alone than I was used to and I felt like I had a lot of pent up creativity that came out really fast. Then there are also a few songs that I wrote once I was starting to feel a bit more settled in my hometown, as memories from my past kind of overlaid on top of my newer understanding of myself. Those came out more like steady drips throughout the end of 2022 and into 2023.

What inspired you to write Where I Wanna Be? What does the album mean to you and what do you hope others will take away from this collection of songs?

Although the album is called Where I Wanna Be, thematically the songs are more about who I wanna be and what I need to change in order to be that person. When someone asks, “How are you?” it’s easier to talk about geographical location (“I’ve been traveling a lot!”) as a substitute for emotional location (“I’ve been feeling really ungrounded”), especially when everything is in flux.

Each song, in its own way, speaks to who I want to be; I want to be someone who is free and expansive, who knows what makes me happy, whose identity reflects who I know myself to be, who is a part of a team/community, who doesn’t give my power away, who is consistently and historically queer, who trusts myself, who speaks up for myself and takes accountability, who feels at home in my geographical location, and someone who maintains a sense of curiosity in the midst of uncertainty. And that’s basically the whole album.

I think that’s why the album feels so intimate. Though I wrote this collection of songs for my own processing, I know that a lot of people go through this process for themselves, so I’m happy to lend my own experience to folks who might find it helpful.

The title track of the album, “Where I Wanna Be,” includes the lyric, “Every year I drive around, scope out the towns, thinking is this where I wanna be found.” I am curious if you feel a sense of the “grass is greener” in another town? I feel like this is a huge theme, especially among young adults, the idea that we may feel more fulfilled in another place.

Even if I daydream about moving, I find that I feel pretty aware of what I’m missing out on (in a positive and a negative way), and that helps with not over idealizing certain places. I know about the realities of living in Boston, or Brooklyn, or Nashville, or the PNW, and so all things considered, I’ve chosen to live where I am and visit those other places.

Sometimes I still daydream about living somewhere else, but mostly what I find myself imagining are the different communities I could be a part of. I’ve gotten little windows into different communities through meeting people at festivals and conferences, which are mysterious liminal spaces where people who live in different places gather together. They don’t represent an actual location where I could live permanently. And I think it’s helpful for me to remember that when I start feeling like I should move. Likely I’m imagining somewhere that doesn’t currently exist. Not that we couldn’t start an artist commune, though.

Who are your favorite LGBTQ+ artists and bands?

God, more like who isn’t LGBTQ+! [Laughs]

Spencer LaJoye, Flamy Grant, Jean Rohe, Liv Greene, Jobi Riccio, Singer & the Songwriter, Cloudbelly, Lindsay Foote, Olivia Barton, Joy Clark, Allison de Groot & Tatiana Hargraves, Olive Klug, Jane O’Neill, Brittany Ann Tranbaugh, Elisabeth Pixley-Fink, Adrienne Lenker, Taylor Ashton, Eliza Edens, Rachael Kilgour, Emily King, Judee Sill, and tons of obviously bisexual woman performers who aren’t publicly out.

For anyone reading this who might not be out of the closet, were there any specific people, musicians, or resources that helped you find yourself as a queer individual?

Although I’m bisexual, reading the Lesbian Masterdoc was very helpful as a way to sort through my past, draw connections between memories and feelings, and generally deconstruct the idea that being straight was the only option for me (compulsory heterosexuality). I also really loved reading Katie Heaney’s book, Would You Rather, and The Fixed Stars by Molly Wizenberg. (In addition to following every cute queer person I found on Instagram.)

What does it mean to you to be an LGBTQ+ musician?

I often feel like performers are treated kind of like inspirational court jesters, where we’re being the weird, thoughtful, creative ones, and the normal people come to shows to live vicariously through us. Honestly, it’s pretty similar to how queer people break boxes and live expansively just by being ourselves (except that queer stories are often suppressed and not amplified). So, if I have the opportunity to have a platform and the power to influence my audience, I want to take that responsibility seriously and show up as my fullest self so they can see that it’s possible for them as well. I love being a queer musician and knowing that by just being myself, I might be helping audience members learn more about themselves as well.

What’s the best advice you’ve ever gotten?

In 2016, I was attending the Rocky Mountain Song School and was a part of a partnered songwriting class where each participant told their partner a story from their life and then the partner would use that story as a songwriting prompt. My songwriting partner told me about his career trajectory and how someone advised him to get an entry-level job at the local venue that he wanted to play. So he got a job as a busboy at this venue and then progressively worked his way up, eventually becoming tight with the booker until he was selling out shows with his name on the marquee.

Although he wasn’t giving advice per se, I kept this story in mind when I moved to Boston after college and I got a job working at the box office of Club Passim. Regardless of career prospects, I think it’s a really good idea, for community building purposes, to become a regular wherever you want people to know you. For me, in working at Passim, I was hanging out there all the time and it was inevitable that I met a ton of super cool people who are doing really great things and now I feel pretty well-connected.

What are your release and touring plans for the next year?

This year is a big one for me! I’m (obviously) releasing this new album, Where I Wanna Be, and I actually have another recorded project scheduled for the fall! Tour-wise, I have been upping my booking game and will be touring around the Midwest in May with Brittany Ann Tranbaugh (we’ll likely be around Wisconsin and Minnesota when this article is published), the West coast in October with Jean Rohe, and the Northeast in November, and a lot of other spots in between! I’ll be teaching at a few songwriting and music camps as well, which I love to do. So I think it’ll be a great year!

Photo Credit: Morgan Hoogland

Out Now: Joh Chase

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

This week, we’re excited to feature Joh Chase in Out Now. Joh is an artist from Seattle, Washington now rooted in Los Angeles, California. They’ve spent the past two decades developing their craft as a songwriter and performer and they’ve opened for artists like Noah Gunderson and David Bazan. Joh’s music steps outside the lines of any single genre and blends influences of blues, folk, pop, and indie rock.

Joh Chase’s brand new album, SOLO, was released today. It features diverse sounds, intimate lyrics, and an exploration of love, loss, self-discovery, and independence. Our conversation touches on why they create music, their greatest fear, and their process of self-funding tours and crowdfunding albums.

Why do you create music? What’s more satisfying to you, the process or the outcome?

I create music because I am lucky to have claimed music as something that I do. I just do music as much as humanly possible, because it makes me feel alive and helps me know who I am and how much I love the world and life and others. Both the outcome and the process are satisfying. The payoffs for showing up always feel rewarding, but the long game reward of gaining muscle memory around showing up when it feels like the last thing you wanna do, is its own kind of reward.

Do you create music primarily for yourself or for others?

I’m very “Oliver Sacks” about music. I unabashedly create music for selfish reasons – coping, pleasure, and connection. And then I love playing music for people or hearing the music of others because everyone has a “secret public song space” in their bodies and minds and they want to be there as much as possible.

Your songs cover a wide range of genres with traces of blues, pop, folk, and indie rock influences. How do you navigate genre diversity while maintaining a cohesive sound throughout the album?

I think the genre diversity and how that comes across in the different sounds is a reflection of the kinds of music I used to make and the sounds that have stuck with me throughout the years. Using the baritone saxophone, finding a way to express some soul music as well as some Americana licks amongst folky tunes indie folk/rock sounds are endemic to my musical expression. Over the years people have said, “Oh your voice would sound good singing… country, bluegrass, blues, soul…” and in this record I found a way to fit the genres to my voice, a bit. The surprising Flaming Lips-sounding party that is “Daniel” or the more jammy “Smoother” with its less Western sounding scale, are consequences of me feeling 100% happy with creating and releasing music that genre melds, as opposed to making sure I stay in some sort of shape, genre-wise.

The lead single, “Avalanche,” is both explosive and personal. What is the inspiration and significance of this track?

I honestly cannot remember the exactitude of where or when I wrote “Avalanche.” It was in the same set of songs as “Gone” when I first wrote it, but I can’t remember that session as well as I can remember the writing of “Gone.” The song centers itself around the powerful polarity of belonging and loss. Love is not just the “hot fire sex flame” of pop bangers, but also the unexpected mountain shelf of love that you didn’t know you had until it was gone.

This album, SOLO, reflects your do-it-yourself perspective as an artist. Could you share the challenges and rewards of self-funding tours and crowdfunding projects?

One of my favorite books that I was reading around the time that I decided to do the crowd funding that led to this record is the book Real Artists Don’t Starve. The book inspired me to go back to school while I was making this record. The record business is tough and very uncontrollable, but I will never stop making music. So it’s not a question of “do I want to keep making music”, but rather how and at which costs? I think some artists or bands are in a place where they feel comfortable sharing the financials of their music business with fans and some do not for many valid reasons. I feel comfortable sharing with my fans, I need $x to do this, will you help me make it happen. It’s much more acceptable now to have folks follow your Patreon or Substack or subscriptions than it was, so I feel grateful that there are things like Kickstarter and Patreon etc.

What would a “perfect day” look like for you?

Eating a Berliner from Black Forest Bakery in Los Feliz with my coffee, going home to the studio and making music or playing out with my band.

What’s your ideal vision for your future?

I’m sitting behind some tape machine or TEAC-2A, coming up with my next record and building more beautiful songs. I’m walking my dog and going to queer line dancing and the LA women’s soccer games with my city and then touring and meeting wonderful people and getting to play music for them. Definitely going back to Europe for more shows – I’d really love to do that.

What is your greatest fear?

My dog dying when I’m on tour.

What’s the best advice you’ve ever gotten?

Get pet insurance.

What is your current state of mind?

I’m so deeply excited about playing these new songs for people this year and for people to hear this record. I couldn’t sleep last night after doing my taxes, ’cause I was so buzzed from the band rehearsal.

Who are your favorite LGBTQ+ artists and bands?

Brittany Ann Tranbaugh. Brennan Wedl. Bitch. Melissa Ferrick. Perfume Genius. Hand Habits. Sasami. Rhett Madson. Rachel Mazer. Ryan Cassatta. Brittany Howard. Sinead O’Connor. Jonnie Reinhart. Hurray for the Riff Raff.

For anyone reading this who might not be out of the closet, were there any specific people, musicians, or resources that helped you find yourself as a queer individual?

Willie Nelson’s “He Was A Friend of Mine” – I think struggling to come out of the closet or living in it or the aftermath of coming out revolves around loss of community and friendships. Nelson’s version of this song helps me still deal with some of the sadness around that loss. I was lucky enough to get sober and it was through the 12 step community that I met lovely, strong, vulnerable queers in LA who showed me the beauty and joy of what it’s like to be out and to be sturdy in your own way. I’m also spoiled with LA’s LGBT center – it’s an incredible organization with so many resources and events. Find the queers you want to be when you grow up. And then be the queer you want to be when you grow up.

What does it mean to you to be an LGBTQ+ musician?

I think it means that my music gets to be a safe LGBTQ+ place. That my shows and my music centers the queer experience.

What are your release and touring plans for the next year?

After touring this summer to promote the record on the West Coast, I’ll head east later in the year and jump into some Folk Alliance conferences. No release plans on the radar yet after SOLO.

How do you find a balance between the business and artistic aspects involved in your career as a musician?

I honestly don’t totally know. It’s intuitive and chaotic and intentional and has been part of my personality or my way of life for so long, now, that I don’t know if I can pinpoint one precise center of gravity. I have to protect my creative time, nurture my playfulness in life, let myself ditch friends or ditch overworking or ditch over-cleaning to let those creative moments remind me of who I am. I am lucky to have a manager, a team at Kill Rock Stars and friends who support me and my music. Inside of community, the glaring nature of the music industry is dulled out quite a bit.

Photo Credit: Shervin Lainez

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