Tag: RCA Studio A

It’s Time for Devon Gilfillian’s Country-Tinged Soul

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Devon Gilfillian is one of the most accomplished rock and soul artists in Nashville who many roots music listeners still may not know about. A self-described melting pot of music, the Philadelphia native is deeply inspired by the too-often-unheralded impact of Black music in Nashville and its influences on country and rock ‘n’ roll. Gilfillian’s hero, Jimi Hendrix, expanded the genres – and Hendrix’s connections to Nashville aren’t lost on him.

The amiable, passionate Gilfillian released Time Will Tell, his third major-label album, on June 26. Largely recorded at historic RCA Studio A in Nashville, the new album is inspired in part by the eclectic soundtracks of Quentin Tarantino’s movies, the oft-sampled David Axelrod music of the 1960s, the Shaft soundtrack by Isaac Hayes, and Bobby Womack’s “Across 110th Street.”

On “Hold On (Hourglass),” the project’s first single, Gilfillian sings over a galloping beat, spaghetti western guitar, and a choir about the passage of time and the uncertainty ahead. “I like that kind of swaying, or that western sound that is coming from a kind of cinematic place,” Gilfillian said from his home in Nashville. “I wanted to mix that country-western sound into that cinematic kind of world.”

In that post-genre spirit, Gilfillian co-produced his new album with longtime drummer Jonathan Smalt. The duo had major-league assists from Neil H Pogue (Tyler, The Creator and OutKast, among others) who contributed to the mix, along with sound engineers Michael Harris and Reid Leslie.

“Time” is a gorgeous opener with a rich palette of piano and strings. “Time, all we have is time, to heal it,” Gilfillian softly sings. “Cry, I don’t wanna cry, but I gotta cry, to feel it.” He then goes full Hendrix on “Black Dog Rabbit Hole,” his hardest rocking song to date, with lots of fuzz guitar and considerable sonic depth and instrumentation. “Let’s Stop Fucking Around” is old-school soul with harmony background vocals, and the funk-pop of “IRL” makes you want to dance as Gilfillian proclaims that he wants something real.

Gilfillian’s major label debut, Black Hole Rainbow, landed in 2020 after the pandemic took hold. Thoughtful, upbeat, catchy rock and neo-soul with Gilfillian’s emphatic delivery, the album was produced by Shawn Everett, a GRAMMY winner who’d worked with Alabama Shakes on Sound and Color and with Kacey Musgraves on Golden Hour, among other projects. Then, Gilfillian released his own impressive version of Marvin Gaye’s classic album What’s Going On during the pandemic shutdown to “lift up the Black voices in Nashville” with guests like Jason Eskridge, Ruby Amanfu, Joy Oladokun, Kyshona, and Jasmine Cephas Jones from Hamilton.

On his 2023 follow-up album, Love You Anyway, Gilfillian leaned a tad more toward traditional R&B and hip-hop, delivering the single “All I Really Wanna Do” in a falsetto voice a la 1970s Curtis Mayfield. Another highlight was “Let the Water Flow,” a gospel-style ballad about the murder of Ahmaud Arbery in Georgia and the attempts to overturn the 2020 election results.

Gilfillian’s new album is more personal than political, and BGS spoke with him about it recently.

This album has a bigger sound than your others. Did working at Studio A have anything to do with that? What was it like working in that room?

Devon Gilfillian: It’s magic. It’s truly magic. I was literally there just today for another interview. Just getting to go there and be in that room [was cool] because it was a year ago this week that we were there making the album. We laid down all the rhythm, the drums, bass, guitar, keys, and some of the time I sang at RCA in the studio. Most of the vocals were [done] in post-production, but I wanted to really bake-in the chemistry of that room and the band onto tape. That’s the main reason why I wanted to go to RCA.

Your music is always a bit eclectic, but the new album’s ode to the American west, most notably on the first single, “Hold On (Hourglass),” seems to go further than before.

Truly. My friend and amigo Mr. Ran Jackson, who I wrote the song with and who helped produce it, we were rapping about that and he nailed it. I came in and he had this track, he had the guitar, the chord progressions like ding-dinga-ding-dinga-ding, and I was just like, “Oh shit, let’s go. Let’s take this world [we created] and use that.” And I just poured out what was happening in my emotional world, which was my relationship that was not working out. That’s how that song started.

Your style really is almost genre-less.

Jimi Hendrix is my like North Star, right? And Jimi, he’s all the fuck over the place. He was playing with Little Richard, playing with the Isley Brothers. You know, he was learning by listening to Elmore James and listening to the blues. Then he goes over to the U.K. and he’s playing with Mitch Mitchell and Noel Redding [in the Jimi Hendrix Experience], and they’re like these folky, psychedelic, rock cats. They’re mixing in folk and psychedelic rock and then the blues and R&B, you know like fucking Isley Brothers, and all these things coming together.

When I listen to Jimi, I hear all of it. I’m not scared to take little bits and pieces of what I love and combine it with other parts and other pieces of other genres and, you know, see if it makes something tasty.

Hendrix spent time in Nashville, as you know, and in Atlanta as a backing musician at the Royal Peacock Lounge, from where he hit the road with musicians like Little Richard on bus tours of shows in the South. It’s so interesting to see how he was influenced by playing in the South.

He was stationed in Clarksville, [Tennessee, in the Army] right, for a little bit? I remember when I was in high school, I was obsessed with Jimi. It was like, “How did he do it? I want to know everything.” But I didn’t really know how connected he was to Nashville ‘til I went to the Jefferson Street [Sound] Museum. He was coming here and really learning from these cats, learning from people playing the blues and country and all this stuff… in like this fucking popping-ass, thriving Black, R&B, blues scene.

You’ve been in Nashville now for about 11 years. Is this sound just part of your soaking up the music in your adopted hometown?

The reason I fell in love with country music was because of a specific album that was made at RCA Studio A, and that was Sturgill Simpson’s Metamodern Sounds in Country Music. Back in 2016, I had a residency at [Nashville venue] the Family Wash, and I was in love with this record of Sturgill’s that everybody loves. I was like, “Oh shit. Little Joe came in.” [Simpson’s guitarist, Laur Joamets.] He’s one of the best guitar players I’ve ever heard. He was like, “Hey, you’re pretty good. I like your band. I want to play with you.” So that was amazing. Little Joe started sitting in with us and played with us for so many gigs. That was how the buzz started building. It was so full circle that, you know, the inspiration [came from him].

I fell in love with Waylon [Jennings] because of Sturgill.

You had a lot of guest singers and friends from Nashville singing on What’s Going On. What approach did you take for the new album?

A lot of the crew that was on the What’s Going On album were the band on this album. Both my keyboard players, Josh Blaylock and Ryan Connors, and then also Nate Felty and Jon Smalt, of course, on drums. It’s all my people, you know. These are all my favorite musicians to make music with. We also pulled in Jordan Lehning, who’s an incredible string arranger, and he brought in Lockeland Strings and had them play on this album. That’s really the thing that injected so much beauty into this album. The strings are just so gorgeous.

Michael Harris, who engineered, he was our main tape operator [at Studio A]. He’s one of my favorites in this town or in the world. He’s a fucking genius, and he worked on Black Hole Rainbow. He was flying in from L.A. and I had him crash at my place while we made this album. I really did get to do it with all of my favorite people.

When we spoke in 2021, you were getting into activism. You donated the proceeds from your What’s Going On album to voting rights and other political groups. Where are you as an activist now? How much of it do you leave to your music?

I still use my voice to spread as much knowledge as I can about the shit that’s going on. For this album, I definitely wanted the music to just be a reflection of my life over the past two years, and of course, politics are always going to be part of that. These songs are just diary entries that I’ve picked from the past couple years. I just looked at the common thread between all these songs, and I was trying to make this relationship work. And it did end, but that’s OK, because there’s still love there and I’m grateful for that love.

Also, my dad had a heart attack [during the making of the album]. I had the realization that my parents are mortals. They can go at any minute, and you know, what are you going to do if that happens? You better fucking hold on to this life that you’ve been given, and to the people that are around you that you love, and you know, just be grateful for them and be as present as you can.

I understand this album is more personal, but have you had to adjust your messages at times to some extent, based on your live audiences? I know you’ve opened for mainstream country acts.

I’ve got to be conscious of where I’m at and the audience that I’m in front of. You know, I try to keep it as real as possible. Whatever’s on my heart, that kind of just comes out. But no, I definitely don’t feel like I can just speak freely anywhere, especially if it’s like in a “red” place, opening for an act that for sure has a pretty conservative fan base.

“Time” is a real stunner on the new album. Tell me about the arrangement, mainly with piano and strings, and how that song felt from the beginning.

It’s definitely about the end of my relationship. I wrote that song with Tabitha Meeks, an incredible piano player [and] singer-songwriter herself. She came over and we wrote one song, and then she started playing, basically “Time,” like the chord progression, and I sang, “Time, oh time,” and she’s like, “Wow, that’s so beautiful.” We didn’t have time to finish it, ironically, that day, but we were like we have to finish this song. A month later, we came back together… It was while my girlfriend at the time was living with me. She left the house and I was like, “Alright, let’s get this recorded.”

It must be a gift when it just comes to you like that.

I’m so grateful for how that one came. It really did just fall out, and it doesn’t happen that way all the time, right? I would say most of the time it does not. 100 to 99 percent of the time it does not happen that way.

“Glad to Be Here” seems to be about being present and was written after your father’s illness. You sing that it has “been such a long, long time since I’ve felt ease, letting my worries fall like leaves/ And I’m so glad, glad to be here.” Do that song and “Shines in You” come from a similar place?

“Glad to Be Here,” yeah, exactly. “Shines in You” is really about my ex-wife, and how that was the love part of it, you know. She is a beautiful person and there was a lot of love there and still is. There was a lot of love, but we couldn’t pour into each other the right way.

That and “Let’s Stop Fucking Around,” you know, they’re the ones that are like, I love you, I love you. Let’s do this, let’s make this happen. But then “Time” and especially “You Can Hate Me Now,” those are at the end of the relationship and the realization that it’s not going to work.

“Keep on Movin’” has some tight drums and horns. It’s still guitar-driven, but I hear the Neville Brothers, New Orleans, and Philadelphia soul in there.

There’s some Fela Kuti in there, you know, very Afrobeat, and my buddy [and co-writer] Ray Mason, my God. I tell you, he funked them horn lines up! He played in this band, Antibalas. I think they’re based kind of all over, but mostly New York. An incredible Afrobeat band. Antibalas was the band for the FELA! Broadway show. They did the whole Broadway thing.

We set up like a whole drum circle. Eric Slick was playing drums. He plays with [Philadelphia band] Dr. Dog and he’s a great artist. Our buddy Nate Felty, he was playing percussion and Jon Smalt was playing on a drum kit, as well. So, we have like two drum kits and percussion and other people playing some auxiliary stuff, all out in the big room [of Studio A]. We wanted it to feel like, you know, just like a party.

You work with some great talent. Who else was instrumental in helping you make this album?

Ran Jackson was absolutely such a huge force in this album, and he helped me produce “Hold On (Hourglass),” “Moonflower,” “Let’s Stop Fucking Around.” And Jon Smalt, I couldn’t have done this without him and his taste and drum sounds – and he’s a great producer himself. As far as arrangements of songs and knowing dynamics and all that stuff, he’s so good at that.

Michael Harris, who engineered, he’s incredible. We couldn’t have gotten the tape sounds that we got without him. Reid Leslie was our assistant engineer, but truly he was like the main cat in pre-production, during production at RCA, and post-production. We did post-production at Reid’s place. Those are, I feel like, the dream team. And then Neil Pogue, he mixed it, and I just love that man. That was cool to get to know him. Oh man, what a legend.

This album has some sad moments, but ultimately, it’s hopeful. With everything going on in your life and the world at large, what gives you hope?

I’m just a hopeless optimist, you know. I try to bring the good vibes. I’m always paying attention to everybody that’s in the room and making sure that everybody’s comfortable. But you know, hope just always ends up in there. If it is a sad song, I don’t want [the listener] to be left completely crushed. That’s just me. I really am grateful for that [optimism], because there are days that I get freakin’ depressed and smoke all the weed and just numb it all out and whatever. For the most part, I can wake up and smack myself in the face and go, “Wow, this life I have is fucking beautiful. I need to soak this shit in right now.”

Does the artistic community that you’re part of in Nashville help keep you going?

I feel like I stumbled upon like, a Laurel Canyon. The communities here in Nashville, my brain couldn’t have conceived how cool, how dope this city is in that way. How being a musician, you can have a normal life here in Nashville and have a beautiful community – and it’s just so convenient, too. It’s not L.A., New York, these big music cities. It’s hard to hang out with each other in those cities, because you’re an hour, you’re 45 minutes away, even though you’re three miles away.

Even with all the traffic [here], it’s not that hard. If you know what’s up, you can zigzag around. So, it’s the most convenient music city in this country. I think it’s the best music city in this country. You can put your team together, the business is here, and most people here, they leave their ego at the door. Because they know that everybody’s talented. It’s just about what you do that I don’t do.

Photo Credit: Travys Owen

Blackberry Smoke’s New Album Offers a Crunchy Continuation of String Band Traditions

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

With 23 years behind them, Blackberry Smoke are still one of the best examples of Southern rock in the modern era – but what does that even mean, right?

Led by singer, guitarist, and primary songwriter Charlie Starr, the band does indeed have roots pointing straight to hard-driving ‘70s icons like Lynyrd Skynyrd, the Allman Brothers Band, and more. That’s true, but they also pull inspirations from farther back. And to Starr, Southern rock, at its core, is a continuation of the Appalachian tradition: “String band music and storytelling.”

With their latest album, Be Right Here, some of that old-time tradition shines through the cracks of a warm, distorted wall of sound, with heartfelt song craft and acoustic-guitar melodies front and center. Meanwhile, the band continue to prove crunchy, doubled guitar solos, thundering drums, and anthemic vocals never go out of style.

BGS spoke with Starr before Be Right Here was released, to see what has changed (and what will always stay the same) for one of the most dynamic Southern rock bands in history – a history they know all too well.

I thought I’d kind of start just seeing how you’re feeling at this point. You’ve been burning up the road for over two decades now, which seems crazy to me. How do you feel about where you’ve have been, and where you are now?

Charlie Starr: I mean, I’m tired. [Laughs] No, I feel good. We all do. It doesn’t seem like it’s been that long. It’s surreal to think it’s been 23 years. I don’t feel like I’m old enough to say that I’ve been doing anything for 23 years other than breathing, but I’m proud of what we’ve accomplished. It feels good.

Blackberry Smoke is one of the best pieces of evidence that Southern rock is still alive and well. But I was just wondering, do you think there’s still more to say in that? Is the form still inspiring to you?

Totally. Just listen to any song from those amazing early Skynyrd records or Allman Brothers or Marshall Tucker Band records, Blackfoot – all those bands are so different, and it really was just geography that tied ‘em all together. They all had their own fingerprint. And I think that we do, too.

I was listening to Patty Loveless in an interview and she was talking about bluegrass – which I grew up playing and I dearly love also – and she was talking about how those first generation bluegrass bands, like Bill Monroe and the Blue Grass Boys, Flatt & Scruggs, and the Stanley Brothers, they came from this rich musical heritage of the mountains where they grew up in Kentucky, Virginia, Tennessee, North Carolina. And what they were drawing from was acoustic string band music and storytelling.

Well, now, fast forward all this time, and modern bluegrass musicians not only have that, but they also have Led Zeppelin and the Beatles and the Rolling Stones and all this. There’s so much more. So I kind of look at it in a similar fashion with “Southern rock” bands, because those guys were listening to not only what I just mentioned, with the hillbilly country music and string band music, but also the British invasion and then traditional country and the Beach Boys. As time moves along, there’s just more and more that gets poured into the soup. So to answer your question in a very long-winded way, I think that it can go on forever.

So you’re kind of the third wave of popular Southern music, taking all that was done before and adding in the new influence, too.

Yeah, if we were a tribute band that just dressed up like some old ‘70s band and played their songs, then it would suck. But since we have the freedom to explore our own musicality, it can never end.

The new album is called Be Right Here. What was the spark that got this one going?

In my case, it’ll usually be a little explosion of songs. I’ll know that album time is coming, and so I’ll get to work on writing a batch of songs. It doesn’t always come quickly but it usually seems to work out, which I’m happy to say, because it kind of falls on me – which I don’t complain about that at all. I dearly love to write songs and I’m glad that it’s my job. There are worse jobs to have. Writing songs for Blackberry Smoke is much easier than working in a body shop, which I did for years.

At this point, 23 years on, are you still writing about the same stuff?

Well, I guess stories can all be new, stories of love and loss and frustration and women and men and drinking – or not – whatever. But if you look at popular music as a whole, there are new subjects that enter our culture, like cell phones and the internet and Facebook. I don’t know if I’ve ever used the word Facebook in a song. I probably won’t. But no matter what comes along technology wise, time stays the same. It’s still moving at 60 seconds per minute, and that’s not going to ever change. And human beings behave really the same way.

That said, the internet’s changed everything really. Not entirely, but it’s added a new accent to everything we do. I think John Mellencamp said it best, he goes, “I’m not sure if we’re supposed to hear this many voices at all at once.” That complicates life, really. It might push me back into my hermit hole a little more. As a songwriter even, it pushes me to the old ways more, melodically and musically. I don’t think anything really new can be said. We’re just trying to find an interesting slant on the way we say it.

You teamed up with Grammy-winning producer Dave Cobb for the second time, and he’s famous for live recording and loving first takes. Does that work well for a band like you guys, who are very live-show oriented?

It does. And in this case, it’s very interesting. We went back to RCA Studio A again, and he said, “This time I’m going to put the drums and amps and you guys all in the big room, so we’re all going to be in a little cluster.” And I was like, “Really?” As soon as we started playing together, it was like, “Oh man, okay, this is working. We don’t necessarily need all the separation.”

Some producers would be like, “Hell no. There’s no way I’d ever make a record like that.” It can be too sloppy. But Dave was like, “Well, we’re capturing this one sound. Let’s capture it all in the room, like a ‘60s record or even a ‘50s record.” So that’s what we did.

Tell me a little bit about “Dig a Hole.” It was the first track written, the first track on the album and the first one released, with a theme of choosing your own path – for better or worse. Is that kind of what you have done as a band?

We have. It’s been our only choice, really, because nobody’s ever come around with a different idea. [Laughs] It’s funny, I put together a [track list] and sent it to Dave, and I had “Hammer at the Nail” first. And Dave goes, “Are you insane? ‘Dig a Hole’ is first. Why would you think that ‘Hammer at the Nail’ should be first?” I said, “Because it’s faster.” And he said, “I don’t give a shit about fast. ‘Dig a Hole’ is like you guys are winding up to kick somebody’s ass!”

“Azalea” leans more into the folky aspect of what Blackberry Smoke does. It’s got that acoustic shimmer of a classic-rock ballad. Where does that come from for you?

Man, I just love that kind of acoustic music. Again, that kind of stuff was my upbringing, and I’ll never turn it loose. That song lyrically was about fatherhood, because here we are now, our children are all growing up. I’ve already seen one go to college, graduate, now get married, so it’s like, “Well you hold on tight, but you don’t want to smother ‘em.” They have their own path to forge, so all you can do is try to be there for ‘em.

I’ll leave you with the big picture. After 23 years, what you hope people take away from this particular record?

I just hope they dig it. I mean, I don’t know if I expect people to experience it in a different way than I do or not. I don’t know. But I do get a lot of enjoyment right now listening to it.

Photo Credit: Andy Sapp

This Could Be a Golden Year for Lillie Mae

Posted on by Editor

Brown’s Diner is the kind of hole-in-the-wall that your eyes have to adjust to, after stepping in from a sunny afternoon in Nashville. However, Lillie Mae shines like a beacon in the dim light of the dark booth as she gabs with the staff she’s clearly known for years.

A twenty-year Nashville veteran, her very first business meeting as the youngest member of her former family band, Jypsi, was in this very restaurant. A true road warrior, Lillie Mae and family traversed the country playing bluegrass festivals and churches. On the heels of a censored childhood steeped in traditional music, she graduated to the honky-tonks of Lower Broadway and on to her own burgeoning career as a solo artist now signed to Third Man Records.

Settling in at the beloved burger-and-fries mainstay after three weeks on the road with The Raconteurs, Lillie Mae detailed the process of making her brand new record, Other Girls, with producer Dave Cobb, as well as songwriting inspiration, a crummy golden year, and what works feels like when it doesn’t feel like work.

BGS: Your lyrics leave a lot to the imagination. They weave a story and put you in a setting but they aren’t inculcating anything for the listener. But tell us more about “A Golden Year.”

That one and the last one are my favorites on the album for sure. Basically, my birthday is June 26 so my golden year was a year ago. We were in The Refuge in Appleton, Wisconsin, and we’d played a couple of gigs up there and we were leaving this monastery. It is an amazing place where musicians and artists of all kinds can go and live for free. Food and everything is taken care of. They get government grants and they have a studio. It is an amazing place right on the water.

We were rolling out and I went to do one more look around and my brother was still wrapping up so I was just walking through the hallways. They have a chapel where they do shows and I heard a choir singing “Ahhhs” and I just heard the whole song and I had a guitar in my hands. I rummaged through rooms to find a pen. I sat down on the guitar case and wrote it. It came from somewhere else. It is a perfect example that we are just a vessel. I had been looking forward to my golden year my whole life and then it turned out pretty lousy for me. I was super depressed and down and writing that song was probably the best part of it.

Do you sit down to write or do you mostly write when you are inspired?

You know, mostly when it starts to come through. But if I sit down and pluck on the guitar or something for a minute, I will easily find myself trying to come up with something. I don’t sit down and try to write nearly as often as I should.

Did you have to do any of that for this record as you were putting the songs together?

Nah. There were a couple of things that were not completely finished, like the last song on the record. I was tweaking words until recording. Some stuff was almost there. And every once in a while, if a second verse is not coming, I’ll just repeat the verse, though that’s kind of cheating.

With your ingestion of art being censored in your religious upbringing, there is some open sexuality on this record. Bluegrass, folk, and country have all been known to suppress that. Have you ever come up against censorship from co-creators or folks in the business realm?

Totally. I think a lot of it you can do it to yourself. You can put yourself in a little conservative box easily. But these days, I’ve just lost my care about what people think. It just doesn’t matter. I have a couple of songs that I haven’t been open about what they are about — on the last album, that were written about abortion. Songs that were really heavy to me and I never talked about that. It wasn’t a secret but “Why do we need to talk about this?” because it can mean whatever it means to anyone. But that is coming from a very conservative place of trying to please all ears.

Having these old mindsets of being in old Nashville, I definitely have been more conservative than I truly am. For me to not mute or hide lyrics or not be open about things, it has been a step for me. There is a song on the album called “Crisp & Cold” that was inspired by a friend of mine who is transgender. There is a line in the song that says, “Don’t be scared/Be more.” When you literally have to worry that some people might take your life because of that. It is crazy. There are times when you don’t want to offend anyone but those days are over.

But growing up in bluegrass, we did the circuit. We were always on our way to another festival. My sisters were older than me and were beautiful young women who were experiencing growing out of the whole religious thing. We did Beatles covers back then when I was a little kid and bluegrass snubbed us. To love something so much and to be ousted from it because you’ve developed some fashion sense or something. It sucks to be such a supporter of something and to not have them have your back. But it has changed a lot.

Did you and your siblings grow up listening to any specific artists?

It was super limited, what we were allowed to listen to and we grew up playing full time. We played churches and bluegrass festivals. We had a lot of live influence. As far as what we were allowed to listen to, it was not very much. We’d be allowed to listen to some Del McCoury songs but not all of them because of the content. A lot of Marty Robbins and Hank Williams, but always excluding some stuff because my folks were super strict.

Did you find yourself seeking ways to listen to those excluded songs?

Not me. I’m the youngest in the family and I never did. I’m really bad about that still. I don’t go out and pick out music. If I go to a record store, I have a panic attack. Every single time I end up on the floor in a corner just sitting cross-legged waiting for everyone to check out. I have full-on attacks. Maybe I’ll be better now. It has been a minute since I’ve been in one. I never got joy out of going to buy a record.

I was the youngest and growing up, I never had a choice. I didn’t get to pick where we went or what we listened to or anything. I just listen to what other people are listening to. I really rely on my boyfriend or my brother playing cool music. Unless I hear someone at a gig or a festival, then I’ll pick up their music. Like Natalie Prass. My brother met her at a show a couple of years back and he brought her CD home. And I was like, “Oh my God.” Her music changed me.

Jack White gave me a record player but I didn’t have speakers and I’m technically challenged so I could never figure out how to hook it up. The vehicle I have doesn’t have music. I have very little music on my phone and rarely listen to it. I do think I have Natalie Prass’ record on there. [Laughs]

What was it like working with Dave Cobb on this album?

He was wonderful to work with. He’s a really nice person. The first conversation we had, we talked about some bluegrass bands. I think it was something different for him. I was very nervous as first to go in because I was out of my comfort zone but it was really easy. We went in and recorded a song, took a lunch, and came back and recorded another song. It was a pretty easy process.

How was it out of your comfort zone?

Well, Dave uses his drummer Chris Powell on most of his stuff so for me going in because I’m such a picky asshole, I was nervous about playing with someone I hadn’t played with. I was just nervous it wasn’t going to be my vibe. But it was. It was wonderful. It’s an amazing studio [RCA Studio A] with great sounds and a great crew.

So it was pretty easy once it started?

Totally. After song number one. The first song had two different time signatures the way it was written but it got straightened out to just one. At first, I was like, “What is going to happen here?” It ended up a great thing, but I was a little stubborn at first.

Did that create friction?

No. Not at all. I kept it to myself. I went to the bathroom, cried it out, and came back ready to give it a try.

That’s awesome you trust your producer.

Well, I’d be foolish. Who am I, you know? Here’s a shot to work with some amazing people. If I threw a wrench in it, there are too many people on board. There are too many people invested in me. I owe too many people too many things. There’s a time and a place. Maybe next album. [Laughs]

I’ll get OCD and have little brain freak-outs. One can come across as stubborn, and all I’ve ever tried to do is be opposite of that. I’ve tried hard to be positive and give my all no matter what the project is, but those little OCD things, they can hinder you for sure.

Have you ever made concessions that you regretted making because the art didn’t turn out the way you wanted it to?

If I’ve thought like that, I’ve tried to change my outlook and be like, this is the way it was supposed to be. It (the process of making the album) wasn’t what I had anticipated. I anticipated buckling down. I anticipated really working hard, and then when I wasn’t working hard and it was just coming really easily and naturally, I felt like I wasn’t doing a lot. When you are used to hustling and it comes easy, it feels like something must be wrong.

How do you feel about the release of the new album? What is the period like right before it comes out?

The last couple of weeks [touring with The Raconteurs] were super exciting. It was fun to be out playing the tunes. I wasn’t ready to be done. I enjoyed it a little too much.

I’m pretty level. Just from so many years of getting my hopes up, not even just about music. I used to get so excited about something but I crashed and burned too many times. I don’t allow myself to get excited about much of anything. People will get the wrong impression that I’m not enjoying myself or that I’m not grateful. I’m so thrilled but my expectations are pretty low. I’m excited about it coming out, but if I got dropped tomorrow I think I’d be prepared. Which is not good! [Laughs]

My boyfriend took the pictures for the album campaign. And my sister Scarlett and our friend Amy helped with the photo shoot. It was just us, so it feels super close to home, and I feel really proud of it.

Photo credit: Misael Arriaga