Tag: River Whyless

BGS 5+5: River Whyless

Posted on by Editor

Artist: River Whyless
Hometown: Asheville, North Carolina
Latest Album: Monoflora

All answers by Ryan O’Keefe

What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?

Being the son of some hippies, and growing up in the woods of Maine, the folk singers from the ’60s and ’70s were pretty much on constant rotation in my house. Mitchell, Dylan, Baez, Collins and many more filled the space between the cedar walls of the small cabin my folks built. Though the calluses on my mothers fingers had long since softened, she still strummed the tunes of her youth on the Ibanez she had carried around Australia with her from 1971 to 1973. So it was one of the great pleasures of my life to place the call to my parents, letting them know that we would indeed be playing at the Newport Folk Festival. Elated, we got them tickets and set up a weekend for them to come down and watch their son on the very stage that had influenced so much of their lives.

We played an early set. An unknown band, brought in from North Carolina to perform at the fort and no idea if anyone was going to show up. They did. The most eager, dedicated crowd we’ve ever performed for. Thousands packed inside and outside of the tent that cradled the stage. We performed in a blur and time floated by and we just kinda let ourselves get swept downstream. It all ended with an encore, a standing crowd and us lingering on the stage that had given us so much life in such a short period of time. When we finally did walk off, Jay (the director of the festival) clapped us on the back and said welcome to the family. It struck me that that family I was now a part of included the artists who made those very records that I grew up listening to in the quilted cabin in Maine.

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

During the pandemic, when all our tours were canceled, I teamed up with my good friend Israel, and we started making elaborate meals cooked strictly outdoors. I suppose at the time we wanted to get our friends together in a safe way and so this was our solution. The first meal was cochinita pibil, a Yucatan classic of slow-cooked pork shoulder wrapped in banana leaves cooked in a pit in the ground. Next, Justin Ringle from the band Horse Feathers, came into town and we reconfigured the pibil pit to make jerk chicken. The most recent dinner was a stew cooked in a five-gallon cauldron over an open flame. Music has always been around, of course, and Israel plays the uilleann pipes so I have been trying my hand at some traditional Irish guitar. We stumble our way through a couple jigs and reels but anything sounds good when you’re cooking five gallons of stew in a cauldron, outside, with your friends.

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

I was a late bloomer musically. I really didn’t start playing guitar until I met Alex, our drummer, in college at Appalachian State University. He sparked my true musical awakening and, in his dorm room, we devoured angsty indie rock and pop records from the early 2000s. Bright Eyes, Mates of State, The Decemberists. I wanted to learn the songs so Alex and I could play music together. I picked up guitar but was awful at learning covers so I just started writing my own songs. I think shortly after that I realized that writing music, in particular, was my calling. I didn’t know if I’d be any good, but I knew that I lost myself in the craft. And that’s all I can ask for.

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

Songs generally come out of the blue. At least the good ones. I have hundreds of pieces of songs saved in voice memos that have long since been forgotten. I think a lot of them have potential but the moment has been lost. For me, it’s imperative that I stop everything and just work on a song when it “comes.” That first session with a new idea is the most important time for the life of a song. With all that being said, I don’t follow my own advice nearly enough. I get distracted, or have some other obligation, which happens more and more the older I get. But there are songs, just pieces that just continue to nag at me and refuse to sink quietly into the depths of my phone. The song “Oil Skin” off our new album comes to mind. The first line, “When I was a child my mother would bathe me in the sink, pull the oil from my skin” has been kicking around my head for years. We tried to make a song of it on We All the Light and then again on Kindness a Rebel. But it wasn’t until we sat down to write Monoflora that the song finally found a home. I think it was Dan who suggested that we switch the groove from a waltz to a straight 4/4 beat. We left the vocal melody resembling the original waltz and that was the key. It has a subtle trippy cadence that I wouldn’t have naturally thought of. It still took some work but we had unlocked the door and stepped inside.

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

I live in the woods. I spend most of my time at my house with my wife and daughter. The only neighbor I can see is Alex, our drummer. So the North Carolina mountains are everything to me at this point. They are so infused in my life that I can’t separate myself from them at all. I hike everyday on old logging roads out back of my house with my daughter on my back and my dog at my side. Often I take it for granted. I try not to, but it’s inevitable. It influences every part of my writing because it influences every part of me.

Photo Credit: Molly Milroy

LISTEN: River Whyless, “Fast Like a Match”

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Artist: River Whyless
Hometown: Asheville, North Carolina
Song: “Fast Like a Match”
Release Date: January 14, 2022

In Their Words: “‘Fast Like a Match’ was written ever so quietly in the bathroom of my grandparents’ house in Montreat, North Carolina, late at night, and in between two tours. ‘Dim light’ refers to an appetite for passion; be it for the singular obsessive pursuit of purpose, or for the pursuit of a shared understanding with another; it doesn’t matter the venture, as long as it’s fierce.” — Halli Anderson, River Whyless

Photo Credit: Molly Milroy

MIXTAPE: The Steel Wheels’ Music for Your Community Gathering

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Building community is part of what music, and all good art, does. It brings us together. Music is a common rhythm, a poetic notion, an underlying common language for us all. A good mixtape grabs hold of that commonality and builds on it, with a few surprises along the way. As a band, The Steel Wheels curate a music festival each year, and a mixtape, or playlist, is kind of the digital version of that venture. So, let’s stop talking about it, and start building community with a PERFECT mix. – Trent Wagler, The Steel Wheels

Fruit Bats* – “Humbug Mountain Song”

Let’s start with a groove anyone can get behind. It’s accessible for the pop music lovers who wandered into this gathering — they didn’t know they liked the banjo at all until the second half of this intro kicks in. But now they’re engaged. And why can’t the piano, banjo, and drums live together in harmony? Stop closing your mind.

Kristin Andreassen* – “Get Together”

A good mixtape needs to establish that everyone is included. Loading things up with all your favorite new and rare songs isn’t always inviting. A cover song is common language at the very best. A little freshening up of a classic song will get us all swaying together in time. And what better theme than coming together? Now we’ve got everyone in the room in tune and we can introduce more variance in the mix.

The Wood Brothers* – “Sing About It”

The foundation of community is the strength we have together. Nothing better exemplifies this than the tight grooves and sweet harmonies of the Wood Brothers. And their message here is spot on. No matter where we are in our journey of pain, loss, trouble, or fear, singing a song just might help it pass.

Kaia Kater* – “New Colossus”

Now that we’re all in this, let’s tie the knots tighter. This song is like a sweet honey that helps stick us tightly. The way the melody veers and twists through literary verses encourages your conversations to dig a little deeper.

Jerry Garcia & David Grisman – “Russian Lullaby”

I think it’s more than nostalgia that brings me back to these late Garcia recordings, when he teamed up with longtime friend and musical pioneer David Grisman. The loose nature of these recordings makes you want to sit crisscross applesauce and share most embarrassing moments with a new acquaintance. If the ice wasn’t broken earlier, Jerry will rockabye you, baby. Collaborations are community building at their core.

River Whyless* – “All of My Friends”

Now that we’re all floating together in a musical high, don’t pull away. Leave the phones in your pocket. Let’s be here together fully. River Whyless is a band that simultaneously indicts and playfully dances with the information-overwhelmed age we live in.

Cedric Burnside* – “Hard To Stay Cool”

What is more true blue than these dyed in the wool Burnside family blues. Cedric Burnside’s whole album is full of these tasty grooves. It’s not hard for him to stay cool.

Tim O’Brien* & Darrell Scott – “With a Memory Like Mine”

Here’s another one of my favorite collaborations. The album Real Time by Tim and Darrell has had such a musical impact on me. To hear two great songwriters, who sing and play any instrument they pick up with such mastery, is humbling and inspiring.

Bahamas – “No Wrong”

I’m obsessed with Bahamas’ music right now. The guitar, the groove, and the vocals. The presence of this recording is also so immediate and direct. When you’re among your people, it feels like you can do no wrong.

The Steel Wheels* – “Road Never Ends”

I couldn’t help but include one from our new record. The love and joy of the road is bittersweet. This song puts words to the difficulties of transience while acknowledging the beauty of the strange kind of mobile community it creates.

Ana Egge – “Rock Me (Divine Mother)”

There are few songwriters who tap into deep spiritual depths without cliché like Ana Egge. She’s a treasure. And this song has slayed me every single time I’ve ever heard it.

Tinariwen – “Imidiwan Win Sahara” (feat. Tunde Adebimpe)

All music conjures up a sense of place. Tinariwen was introduced to me by our drummer, Kevin Garcia, and I’ve regularly wanted to go to where their sound takes me. As a songwriter and specifically a lyricist, it’s helpful to reset your listening ear and turn off the language centers of your brain by listening to music with lyrical content in a language you do not speak.

Dr. Dog – “Listening In”

A good mixtape has some curveballs. Dr. Dog has been a sonic companion for me since I first saw them live 10 years ago at Bristol Rhythm and Roots. The lyrical tapestry is so full and always connects through some kind of thought-lightning striking through your brain. I love the line, “I can hear the fear in me…talking.”

David Wax Museum – “Time Will Not Track Us Down”

We’re getting towards the end of our little mixtape. Like the Sunday afternoon lazy picnic, we are starting to wind it all down. David Wax is known for his high energy original Latin-inspired masterpieces, but this simple paired down guitar/vocal really calms my spirit and prepares us to part.

Robert Ellis & Courtney Hartman* – “Up On The Hill Where They Do The Boogie”

One more cover song for good measure. Let’s celebrate the most wacky and wonderful souls among us, and let’s boogie like John Hartford.

Josh Ritter – “Homecoming”

Remember that curating music for your gathering is a privilege. You are setting the sonic table for everyone in your presence. It’s also a responsibility. Everyone wants to feel at home at the end of the day. Everyone wants be at their best and be reminded that they are capable of their best. Music replenishes the various ways daily life drags us down. A mixtape is a good refuge and stand-in for when music festival season is slow.

Photo credit: Josh Saul

*2019 Red Wing performers. Red Wing Roots Music Festival takes place in Mt. Solon, Virginia, on July 12-14, and is hosted by The Steel Wheels

Want to Write a Protest Song? Read This First

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

“There’s no such thing as someone else’s war
Your creature comforts aren’t the only things worth fighting for
Still breathing, it’s not too late
We’re all carrying one big burden, sharing one fate.”
                                                                                                  — Jason Isbell, “White Man’s World”

If one musical phenomenon united the year 2018 from the very moment the ball dropped over Times Square, it was the protest song. The soundtrack of the resistance clearly had enough time to percolate, deliberate, and incubate since our 45th president’s administration began in January 2017, because protest emerged as a recurring theme.

In the summer of 2017, Americana speak-your-mind hero Jason Isbell may have been the earliest adopter with “White Man’s World,” where he was decrying his own privilege while championing our common humanity and our shared fate. A year later, string band virtuosos Punch Brothers went so far as to name the elephant in the room and describe him thusly on “Jumbo:” “Whoa, here comes Jumbo with a knife and a tan/ And an elephant’s tail for his Instagram/ Grown up brave on the fat of the land of the free…”

Falling in line with this common theme, in an interview earlier this year River Whyless’ drummer Alex Waters described their creative process for their latest album, Kindness, A Rebel, as grappling with the fact that, “it’s just hard to avoid the elephant in the room as far as the current political situation and feeling like we didn’t say or do enough.” Boston-based bluegrass outfit, the Lonely Heartstring Band, opted to protest by not protesting — a press release described their single, “The Other Side,” as, “a song that takes no sides, but encourages empathy and understanding for people regardless of political beliefs.” Korby Lenker and Nora Jane Struthers took that perspective directly to far-right cable television show, Huckabee, performing a co-written plea for the sanctity of the dinner table, “Let’s Just Have Supper.”

Several issues arise when you start to consider the commonalities between all of these songs, the coincidence of their releases, and the apparent level to which political mayhem must reach before the greater community sees these songs as necessary. Look, we’ve got at least two more years of this level of political division and discourse ahead of us. Before you sit down to write your scathing, politically-minded, resistance-inspired anthem perhaps consider these few questions and suggestions:

Is this your story to tell?

Story songs and character songs can be sensationally moving and evocative, and they’re an integral part of American roots music’s songwriting traditions, but writers should be careful not to simply co-opt and capitalize on stories, concepts, ideas, and experiences of a marginalized person or group of people. Try not to appropriate any identity or culture, especially if there are marginalized voices out there already telling these stories. Which leads us neatly to the next question:

Is a marginalized or underprivileged person already telling this story?

One of the best ways folks can utilize their privilege to support resistance and activism is to pointedly and intentionally step aside to let a marginalized person own their own stories, their truths, and to be able to speak to those stories and truths. Ask yourself if telling a certain story, especially someone else’s story, could deny someone else their agency. Use your privilege, whether it be simply tied to your identity or to your professional position, to bring in the voices of forgotten folks who are already telling these stories. Use their points of view to strengthen and reinforce yours, rather than assuming that, by taking on these stories of our own accord, we’re strengthening and reinforcing those who don’t have the access or advantages that we have.

Furthermore, is this song already written?

Consider how galvanized our intersectional movements can be if we draw upon all of our constituent strengths from each and every individual’s personal story. Think of the power of protest music from across the generations. If your song is “already written,” it doesn’t mean that your feelings and your convictions are invalid. It means you aren’t alone. Your goals are the goals of someone — perhaps many someones else. Sometimes you just don’t need to reinvent the wheel.

Stay away from rhetoric such as “we’re better than this,” “this is not who we are,” “we should go back to the way things used to be,” etc.

Ask yourself if the particular phenomenon you’re writing about is truly unprecedented and unique to this era. For instance, indigenous Americans’ experiences are erased if we allow ourselves to believe the narrative that this is the first time our country has detained and imprisoned thousands of children. What about decrying the travel ban on majority-Muslim countries? Not a new occurrence, either. Mourning innocent drone deaths? Those casualty numbers actually don’t neatly correlate to which party holds the White House, as one might assume.

Try to avoid opining for “normalcy” or to “go back to normal.”

As individuals from almost any marginalized people group in this country would be happy to report, there is not an “again” to which we can return the United States that would truly be best, better, or “great” for all Americans. Whether we’re talking about Native Americans, stolen African slaves, African Americans, Americans with disabilities, LGBTQ+ Americans, or women in America — none of these groups have ever enjoyed a period of time in this country that was truly, equally great for any or all of the above. Wishing for something that never existed, except perhaps to the most privileged Americans throughout history, is the self-fulfilling prophecy of erasure at work. There ain’t no such thing as the good ol’ days.

Consider your audience, but not too closely.

Are you writing a protest song knowing that the majority, if not the entirety, of your audience already agrees with you? If so, why? Landing ourselves in echo chambers of our own political and ideological views doesn’t actually do anyone any good. Are you writing the song as a pat on the back? However, having an audience that may diametrically oppose your personal beliefs doesn’t mean that any subject, any cause, or any identity, is yours to take on as your gauntlet. Keep in mind, the most relatable songs, especially politically-minded or motivated songs, are at their best when they’re truly personal.

Speak to your own experiences, unapologetically, and speak to others’ as they relate to yours. It’s called being human. But, don’t get too bogged down considering your audience, either. If you find yourself debating whether or not a song is right for a certain audience, it’s time for a privilege check. Is your anti-gun anthem the best fit for an audience in rural Montana? Maybe not. But consider the artists and songwriters out in the world whose identities are already politicized. The trans artist. The songwriter who uses a wheelchair. An artist of color.

There is no choice, when any of these artists come into the spotlight, of whether or not the political statement of their very existence is too much for their audience. If you are able to avoid a certain song or a political point of view for the convenience of potentially not offending someone, you have an ability that many artists do not possess. That should be in the front of your mind each time you take the stage to find an audience with which you might not feel totally comfortable. For some artists, every audience conjures that feeling. Directly in the face of their art.

Are you simply, innocently following a songwriting trend?

Nope. You’re complicit. Stop. If you’re writing a protest song simply because it’s “in,” something is very broken. (Not capitalism though. That would be very much in tact.)

Write your truth!

Write what you feel. Write what pours out. Let it be personal, let it be real and vulnerable, let it process all of the confusing, complicated, and often treacherous peaks and valleys that we’ve all been crossing together these days. If you’ll stop and consider a few of these points listed above with kindness and empathy, and if you continue with only one metric against which you measure yourself, let it be this: that you are as true to yourself and your truth as you are careful and cautious with the selfhood and truths of others. Carry that with you and you almost can’t go wrong.

Isbell has it pretty much right. And he’ll be the first to admit that he wasn’t the first person to conceptualize the straightforward profundity in his lyrics. We really do all share a common fate–and our own creature comforts, however they’re provided to us, cannot be the only factors that we consider. It’s going to require active, progressive change, allyship realized as a verb, not a noun, to take what has begun as simply a quorum of protest songs from the past year and morph them into a true vehicle for change on the right side of history.

“I’m a white man living in a white man’s nation
I think the man upstairs must’a took a vacation
I still have faith, but I don’t know why
Maybe it’s the fire in my little girl’s eyes…”

Photo by Daniel Jackson

Closer to Self-Acceptance: A Conversation with River Whyless

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Bands grow. Styles evolve. Lineups shift. Genre identifiers morph to accept those changes while the music industry holds certain expectations for reinventions and reimaginations. It’s refreshing, then, when you happen across a band that isn’t bogged down by those precedents, choosing to just follow their songs and their true selves wherever they may lead.

The folk-pop outfit River Whyless finds themselves on this trajectory with their third album, Kindness, A Rebel. The product is not gratuitous, heavy-handed, or obvious, and it never stumbles or attempts to assert that “the old River Whyless is dead,” because true reinvention is never about demolition and rebuilding. It’s about finding the skeletal structure that was already there and allowing it to shine on its own, set apart. Drummer Alex Walters jumped on the phone to unpack the integral aspects of self-acceptance and self-celebration that blossomed on this beautiful testament to allowing oneself to just be.

This record seems to be as much about personal growth for each of you individually as it is about changes for the band as a whole. Why do you think those two things coincided here?

Alex McWalters: I think those things are always connected in some way. Whenever you make a piece of art, your life is always factored into that, there’s always growth. [It’s partly] because we’re now in our early 30s and feeling really lucky that we’re still able to make music and be a band. With that, there are a lot of adjustments you have to make as you head into the next phase of life. Ryan [O’Keefe] just got married, my girlfriend and I just bought some property and we’re working on building a house, and Halli [Anderson] moved to Oregon with her sweetheart. A lot of big life things are happening.

I guess this is a record about grappling with how to be a band in a different phase of your life. It’s honestly a little more challenging when you have more responsibilities outside of a band. Whereas, when we were in our 20s, it was like we were homeless. We lived on the road. Our whole lives were the band. It’s a much different way of operating professionally and creatively than it was 10 years ago. It’s exciting, but also challenging to continue doing it in this way.

How do you all feel that growth comes through the music, overtly? I hear it in “The Feeling of Freedom” and I hear it in “Another Shitty Party” — which I feel echoes my own personal growth through young adulthood — but how do you feel that perspective comes through?

I think “Another Shitty Party” is a great example. I hold this new record up against the one we did before, two years ago, in terms of the way it feels — I sort of have an inside view as to how it was made, so it’s a little hard to convey to someone who wasn’t there. It feels like we sort of embraced whatever came out of us this time and didn’t try quite so hard to be a certain way or accomplish a certain thing with the music. There were a lot more growing pains in the last record, as far as figuring out how to make three or four songwriters coherent.

This time we just went with it. We just let the songs be the songs. With that, the idea of “Another Shitty Party” is sort of connected to a bigger idea of coming a little bit closer to self-acceptance and trying to be honest with who you are in the world. The idea of going to a party and walking away from that feeling like, “There’s no reason I had to be there!” is a metaphor for the larger feeling of being in a band and trying to be cool. Let’s just stop trying to be cool and just be us.

Something that we aren’t necessarily taught as kids or teenagers is that sort of self-acceptance, that acknowledgement, is such an integral part of what we refer to as “maturity.” It’s getting to a point of being able to accept yourself as whomever you are, having been morphed by all of the factors of our lives. What brought that to the surface for you?

I’m not sure if it was conscious. Maybe it was also having reached some level of, I guess, gratification in terms like, “Oh, the last tour we did went really well.” I think part of maturity is you have to learn what works and what doesn’t. Some people aren’t as lucky to reach that point of self-acceptance to where you can say, “No, I don’t want to partake in this.” Or, “I don’t agree with that and I’m not going to do it.” It can sometimes require a lot of work to get to the point where you’re able to be mature. Some of that was just us being a little more confident than we were before.

Also, it’s just hard to avoid the elephant in the room as far as the current political situation and feeling like we didn’t say or do enough. Not that we could have done anything [specific], or that we even knew what to do, or maybe we shouldn’t have done anything, but we had that sense of, “Oh man, what just happened and how do we go forward?”

Taking responsibility of that and taking it onto ourselves is also a very mature idea.

Precisely.

And kindness really is a rebellious act right now. I think that was one of my biggest takeaways from the album. Like, “Oh shit, yeah, being just a kind human being at this point in this weird political, divisive period, is rebellious.”

Absolutely. You hit that right on the head.

I hear you reckoning with that on “Born in the Right Country.” This is something that I think about a lot right now, about how we can address these sort of personal perspectives we have while we also acknowledge our own privilege and our own complicity, too. How did you reconcile that conflict with yourselves and through that song?

The song was written by Ryan and I think it’s interesting, because, like I said, we all had a very intense reaction to the election. There’s a lot to have to work through once you realize that Donald Trump is your president. We are four white people in a band and our life has been pretty peachy and, for the most part, is continuing to be pretty peachy, so anything we say about Donald Trump or the people who voted for Donald Trump has to be self-aware. You have to go through a process of recognizing where you’re coming from when you speak and how you sound and what your actions actually say without you realizing you’re saying it.

There was a point at which that song was introduced to the band and we all wondered if we even wanted to go there. What does this mean? How will it be interpreted? What good does it really do? What is this song really going to accomplish besides sounding like four white people complaining about Donald Trump? And maybe it still does, but I think an important part of it was trying to get into that three-minute song a part about us having a certain responsibility that we have to figure out how to own, as far as being who we are and what we could or could not have done more of.

Personally, I thought 100 percent that he was going to lose, so I was very complacent and complicit in terms of the whole thing. That alone says to me that I was kind of blind. There was a whole lot I wasn’t seeing or that I was refusing to see. And what does that say about my situation and how removed I am from the pain that people are feeling?

Talking about growth and maturity as a band, there’s an expected trajectory in these roots genres for bands to go from string band into more pop-influenced sounds. You guys seem to be on that track. But your music seems to be on this trajectory because it feels like this music is song-driven first. Why do you think that is?

I don’t know if I have a very concrete answer, but I think some of it has to do with the organic evolution. On our first record, we had a different bass player, so we introduced a new player to the band and that inevitably has an effect on how it sounds. With that, there’s also a shift in the power dynamic of the band, for lack of a better way of putting it, where one lead songwriter’s vision isn’t steering the ship anymore — at least not totally. That has a lot to do with how the evolution has happened.

Again, also just letting go. Just letting what comes out come out and not trying to steer it any direction, genre-wise or sound-wise. We obviously have influences and things we’re into and that’s what influences the sound of the moment we’re in, but outside of that I think we just kind of let go of what we want to be and just let it be what it is. It’s so much easier said than done.

Another outgrowth of self-acceptance.

I would say so. I never really thought of it like that, but now that you say it…

Photo credit: Shervin Lainez

RECAP: The BGS at Bonnaroo 2017

Posted on by Editor

River Whyless stepped onto the stage at That Tent while the temperature was still bearable, the dust was still minimal, and the sky was bright blue — that signature Tennessee summer haze would come later. Their fiddle and harmonium wafted out over Centeroo like a roots music call to prayer. The BGS stage had begun!

Aaron Lee Tasjan and company took the stage second, with double-drummer power and super-dapper duds. Earlier in the day at the daily press panel, Tasjan referenced iconic one-liner comedian Mitch Hedberg as a personal songwriting influence and inspiration. It seems an unlikely reference point for his rockabilly-infused, hot-and-heavy rock ‘n’ roll, but it all made sense watching him live. There’s a darker, sly, unexpected humor to ALT.

Our longtime friends Mandolin Orange came third, playing with a full band — Emily Frantz in pure white head to toe, looking summery and fresh despite the now-ridiculous temperature, and Andrew Marlin lending festival cred to our entire operation with his rainbow tie-dye tee. They sprinkled old favorites in and among songs from their latest album, Blindfaller.

The crowd had now totally pushed the blanket, beach towel, and inflatable hammock loungers out of the tent, as more and more fans packed the front of the stage for Greensky Bluegrass. Their long jams, lighting design, powerful vocals, and incredible energy brought out the loudest, most raucous cheers and applause from the audience all day. No surprise there! You could hear the crowd roar from almost anywhere in Centeroo.

As Greensky finished their set and exited — to one more round of thunderous applause — dozens of stagehands, artists, and musicians descended, transforming the stage in minutes. The lights came down and the crowd cheered as the Bryan Sutton Band (seriously, could there be a better house band?) tore into a bluegrass medley of “Walkin’ Across This Land” and the burning instrumental “Cricket on the Hearth.” Then, to cheers and hoots and hollers and whistles, Bryan introduced “Andy Bernard” and “Captain Underpants” — aka BGS co-founder and our SuperJam host, Ed Helms. Ed sang Doc Watson’s bluesy “I Am a Pilgrim,” before welcoming back River Whyless to play CCR’s “Fortunate Son.” Baskery, a Swedish Americana (Swedecana?) trio who had performed earlier in the day at the New Music on Tap Lounge were next, performing a bluegrass-tinged, folky cover of Paul Simon’s “Graceland.”

Mandolin Orange returned to the stage and led an epic, all-tent sing along of “Strawberry Wine,” a song perfectly fitting for Bonnaroo. Martina McBride followed, knocking all of us out with her fringed boots and her stunning cover of the Beatles’ “Blackbird,” continuing the sing-along vibe. The night wouldn’t have been complete without a Dolly Parton, Emmylou Harris, Linda Ronstadt Trio cover, so Baskery came back out to join Martina on “Those Memories.” No one in attendance will forget those memories anytime soon!

A couple of bluegrass tunes later and Aaron Lee Tasjan was welcomed back to promptly tear through Todd Snider’s “Pretty Boy” with the Bryan Sutton Band going electric. The incredible Gaby Moreno was next, giving the audience a muah muah muah muah “KISS” — we want more Gaby sings Prince, please!

One of the most moving moments of the night came when Lillie Mae stepped on stage to introduce one of her heroes — the bluegrass living legend, Bobby Osborne. Before he had played or sung a single note the audience applauded for a solid two minutes. Seeing an enormous crowd at a music festival like Bonnaroo acknowledge the talent and impact of Bobby Osborne was outright stunning, but Lillie Mae, Bobby, and Bryan’s three-part harmony on “Beneath Still Waters” was earth-shattering. A long, long round of applause came again. On “Once More” they struck up an amazing three-part blend … once more. At 85, Bobby has still definitely got it and Bonnaroo knew it.

Greensky returned to the stage once again to cover the Boss, rocking it out on “Atlantic City.” Ed called the whole cast back to the stage, Bobby in his bright blue suit and iconic hat, among them. From somewhere in the crowd, someone shouted “Rocky Top!” Others agreed. They knew what was coming. Ed kicked off the Tennessee state song on banjo and Bobby sang the iconic lyrics that he and his brother Sonny first made famous. Not a single person in That Tent or overflowing out of it did not sing along.

For the grand finale, Ed introduced our closing number. Waving U.S. flags on stage, the whole group belted and swayed to the unforgettable, patriotic lyrics of “God Bless the USA.” The climax of the song was not its final chorus, with dramatic stop and crash cymbals though, it was its second chorus, when Gaby Moreno stepped forward and sang in Spanish:

Y a los que murieron por dármela
Nunca voy a olvidar
Ni a los inmigrantes
Que luchan hoy
Con coraje, amor y fe
Esta tierra es rica en diversidad
God bless the USA!

What pride to be from America
Where I live in freedom
I’ll never forget those who died
To give that right to me
Nor all the immigrants
Who fight today
With courage, love and faith
This land is rich in diversity
God bless the USA!

And if that wasn’t exactly what the world needs right now, then it must need John Mellencamp. Right out of “God Bless the USA,” Bryan Sutton morphed the song into “R.O.C.K in the USA.” Last-minute, surprise guest Margo Price sang a verse and rocked out on tambourine with long-time friend Aaron Lee. The musicians all traded solos, launching a friendly musical battle between Greensky’s Anders Beck and Paul Hoffman, as Gaby and Martina shouted along and U.S. flags still waved. Then, Ed signaled the band to drop out, leaving just the crowd singing, jumping up and down with beach balls flying — and our fifth annual Bluegrass Situation SuperJam hosted by Ed Helms came to a close.

Photos by Elli Papayanopoulos for the BGS

ANNOUNCING: BGS SuperJam at Bonnaroo 2017

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You probably already know about the BGS Stage at Bonnaroo 2017 happening on Sunday, June 11 with Aaron Lee Tasjan, Greensky Bluegrass, Mandolin Orange, and River Whyless. But, once again, we’ll be hosting our fifth roots music SuperJam to close out the last night of ‘roo.

As always, the Bluegrass Situation brings together the best of bluegrass, Americana, folk, and country for a rip-roaring round of fun guests, left-field covers, and classic favorites.

The 2017 BGS SuperJam will be hosted by BGS’s own Ed Helms with the Bryan Sutton House Band and all the artists from our day stage, as well as Gaby Moreno, Martina McBride, Baskery, Lillie Mae, and more.

See you there!

Bonnaroo Music & Arts Festival takes place June 8-11 in Manchester, Tennessee. Click here to see the full lineup.

Stand Up, Speak Out, Be Heard (Op-ed)

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The election of Donald Trump seemed to me, at first, like an aberration. There were many moments during his campaign when I thought he’d surely disqualified himself. And the more ridiculous and offensive he proved himself to be, the more confident I became that the man had absolutely no chance of winning. I see now, after having been proven wrong, that my confidence had spilled over into a kind of arrogance. There was, I admit, a hint of self-righteous complacency hidden within my distaste for candidate Trump. I followed the headlines with a certain glee, relishing all the ways in which Trump seemed to be sabotaging, not only himself, but the whole Republican party. And while I still believe that he deserved to lose and that his presidency will prove a major American mistake, I see more clearly now that his election was not only plausible but possibly inevitable … the result of a long, slow corrosion of our culture — not an aberration, but a culmination — and that I’m just as guilty of perpetuating it as anyone else.

In a society that seems fixated on images, on wealth and celebrity and instant stimulation, why should I be surprised that our president is a wealthy celebrity with an undeniably entertaining style, but no actual political or governmental experience? For those of us who didn’t drink the Trump Kool-Aid, it’s hard to resist the urge to point fingers, to blame this group or that group for their ignorance or gullibility. But, as informed as I consider myself to be, I’m writing now to admit that I could have done more. And, while I was busy passively relishing Hillary Clinton’s seemingly insurmountable lead, there were others in my peer group who’d already made up their minds not to vote, either out of bitterness for Bernie’s dubious defeat in the primary, or out of some more sinister cynicism that led them to believe that the election’s outcome wouldn’t change much in a government already irredeemably corrupt. These are all understandable sentiments. But they’re also excuses. At the heart of each viewpoint is an ingrained passivity, the result of a particular — but not entirely different — ignorance that has something to do with a failure to appreciate the delicacy of our democracy.

It often — if not always — takes a shock to rattle us from our complacency. It’s possible that Trump has proven, or will prove to be, the arbiter of this shock, the jolt that forces us to wake up and see more clearly that we have a choice, that democracy, however imperfect, still exists, and is in fact an instrument of the average citizen. That said, perhaps we should all take a minute to appreciate that Trump’s election has given people on both sides something we’ve all badly needed: a reason to get involved, to confront our ignorance or our arrogance, and admit to ourselves and to each other that we could all do more. If our democracy fails, it will be because we failed — failed to care enough to pay attention, to take action, and, most of all, to collaborate. It’s easy now to feel powerless, but as the Women’s March proved, we are not alone.

This, in the end, will prove crucial. Do we continue down the path of least resistance or do we learn from our mistakes? Will we be able to look past party lines, gender, sexuality, race, and class in order to return our partisanship to its proper context, which is not, after all, winning for winning’s sake. Rather, the context of our partisanship is much larger: It ought to fall somewhere among or within our commitment to generosity and humility.

By capturing footage of that march and putting it to our rendition of Creedence Clearwater Revival’s “Fortunate Son,” we in River Whyless hope to both emphasize and celebrate the power of active political engagement, to relate CCR’s original moment, back in 1969, to this moment, as a way to emphasize its significance. It’s time for everyone — on the left and the right — to stand up and demand from our government the things we all deserve. We don’t all agree on who deserves what and why, but we do agree that we all deserve to be heard. — Alex McWalters, River Whyless

Photo credit: Mobilus In Mobili via Foter.com / CC BY-SA

River Whyless, ‘The Hunt’

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If you've got a sibling, you know it's not always all that easy to get along. Some days you're best buds; others, you're rivaling Noam and Liam Gallagher in your distaste for each other. Asheville, North Carolina outfit River Whyless has written a stirring ode to these less-than-cheerful periods of sibling dissatisfaction.

Ryan O'Keefe, who wrote the song and serves as the band's main vocalist and guitarist, explains that "The Hunt" is, more specifically, about two brothers attempting to salvage their broken relationship.

“They're searching for a connection that binds siblings. The search for the energy that draws family back together when they've been pulled apart," he says.

The tune is even-keeled, with a meditative acoustic guitar lead and beautiful fiddle parts supported by a rumbling rhythm section that never overpowers its counterparts. "The Hunt" is just out as a single right now, but for just a dollar you can cop it from River Whyless' bandcamp.

If that's not enough, some of you West Coast folks can catch River Whyless on the road this Fall, after they make a stop at the Hopscotch Music Festival in their home state in a few weeks.