Tag: rock and roll

The Working Songwriter: Jay Buchanan

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Our guest this week on The Working Songwriter hails from a small mountain town in California, but his music has now made it across the world. Jay Buchanan got his start in the early 2000s with a solo project before joining ranks with a rock band and forming Rival Sons. Since 2008, that group has built a remarkable fan base and beloved discography.

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Rival Sons have shared stages with an astonishing list of artists including Black Sabbath, the Rolling Stones, AC/DC, Guns N’ Roses, Queens of the Stone Age, Metallica, and Lenny Kravitz. They’ve appeared on The Late Late Show with James Corden, Jimmy Kimmel Live!, Later… with Jools Holland, and France’s Le Grand Journal.

The band earned Grammy nominations in 2020 for Best Rock Album (Feral Roots) and Best Rock Performance (“Too Bad”). The Guardian called Buchanan “a revelation” and “a mesmerising presence throughout.” Revolver called him “an undeniable vocal force,” and Classic Rock praised his 2026 solo debut, Weapons of Beauty, as “a remarkable journey through soul music, country rock, southern gothic and gospel.” I got a chance to catch up with Jay a few weeks ago to hear about that solo album and about the rest of his musical journey so far.

Photo courtesy of the artist.

Vandoliers’ “10 Years of Peers” Playlist

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

If you ever wondered if your fav alternative country/folk-punk/Americana bands were allies, don’t worry, I’ve played with a ton of them and this list is nothing but top-notch punks, sweethearts, and buddies.

These are the songs I’m listening to as we ride around in a little red van across Europe. All of these artists have supported me and the boys through the grind of being a working band and my transition.

You have to give credit where credit is due – influential bands like Old 97’s, Flogging Molly, Mariachi El Bronx, and Lucero are all amazing groups who took us out on big tours and taught us everything we know. I’m also excited to show off some of our comrades the Bridget City Sinners, Skinny Lister, Katacombs, Mya Byrne, Nate Bergman, and old pals Summer Dean and Silverada. I even snuck some rock bands like Toadies, Bowling for Soup, and Frank Turner in there too, because genre is a construct and all of these artists deserve more airtime! – Jenni Rose, Vandoliers

“Big Brown Eyes” – Old 97’s

Old 97’s took Vandoliers under their wing right when we started. They were our main influence, being from Dallas and all. They gave us our first big festival show, our first tours, introduced us to Bloodshot Records, and helped me through my first sober tour. Thank goodness for the Old 97’s, forever grateful.

“What Are You Willing to Lose” – Lucero

So many doors opened for us after Lucero took us on a West Coast tour in 2019. This band consistently shows up, every song is exactly right, the show is organic and cathartic. Thanks to Lucero, we picked up a traveling fan base that sings every word every night.

“The Ol’ Beggars Bush” – Flogging Molly

On the cover of the first “album” I made in 8th grade is a picture of me in a Flogging Molly shirt. We owe so much to the band. After the pandemic, Flogging Molly took us to another level on two nationwide tours and a cruise. Flogging Molly taught all of us what it looks like to be a forever band who stay true to their roots. Can’t wait for the Salty Dog Cruise in October!!

“7 & 7” – Turnpike Troubadours

Another great band who gave us some big breaks. We opened both nights at Cain’s Ballroom when Turnpike reunited. They even had us open at the Ryman. It’s been awesome to see them sell out stadiums lately.

“I Come From the Water” – Toadies

Toadies have been supporting the band for years. Trey and I have personally been playing with them in the DFW music scene for most of our career. Super tight band, supportive in every way, and some of our oldest friends. They just took us on a five-week tour across the US and it was a blast!

“Ohio (Come Back to Texas)” – Bowling For Soup

As I write this we are driving into the UK; in 2023 Bowling for Soup introduced us to their fans across the pond. It was crazy to play the Hammersmith Apollo in London with them. Thanks BFS, we loved playing “Ohio” every night!

“I Still Believe” – Frank Turner

We met Frank on the Flogging Molly cruise and became fast friends while hanging out singing to all our favorite punk bands. Since then, he has always been a text away when I need advice. We are so excited he invited us to play Lost Evenings in Dallas this September.

“Tragedy in a Minor” – Skinny Lister

Skinny Lister are our folky family out of the UK. We met through the Flogging Molly community. Sitting in that sweet spot between folk and punk, we had such a wonderful tour with them across Europe last year! This song will get stuck in your head!

“Wish I Was” – Nate Bergman

Absolute monster singer-songwriter and a great guy to run around the country with. He is engaging, emotional, tough-yet-vulnerable. Total package. If you don’t know Nate yet, you should.

“Break the Chain” – Bridge City Sinners

My new favorite band and people after this European tour (that I am currently on). Libby and the boys instantly gravitated to us, and vice versa, in Spain at the Azkena Rock Festival. Their show is absolutely insane! Folk/punk/metal, I’m in.

“Old Fashioned” – Katacombs

Kat is opening for us in the UK and she is such a powerhouse, even if she doesn’t know it yet. I love her voice, her lyrical choices are perfect, and her musical talent is other worldly. Also a bonus is that she is one of the kindest people I have ever met.

“Revolution Girls” – Mariachi El Bronx

We travelled with the Bronx and Mariachi El Bronx in 2023 and 2024. Incredible humans and undeniably talented and the shows were always wild.

“Dance With Barbara” – Silverada

Our favorite road dogs, Silverada! We have been playing clubs, theaters, and festivals with these boys for a decade. They are some of our best friends and we can’t wait for our run in December! This song makes me dance every time.

“You Ain’t Gotta Die (To Be Dead to Me)” – Kaitlin Butts

She saw right through me from day one! She has always been one of my favorite gals in the Texas scene. Fun fact: I’m wearing Kaitlin’s jacket in the “You Can’t Party With the Lights On” video.

“Neon Cross” – Jaime Wyatt

What an absolute icon. It’s been amazing to watch her grow and glow around this scene over the years. I am constantly in awe of her. She has been such a great person in my corner since coming out, too. This song hit me right between her eyes when it came out. Love ya, Jaime!

“Yes Ma’am, He Found Me in a Honky Tonk” – Summer Dean

Summer Dean shared our van for a couple of dates on an acoustic run. She is a real deal cowgirl and one of my all-time favorite people in this industry. She can do it all. Merch, marketing, socials, drive the van, write a hit, and put on an amazing show. I admire her so much. We had fun playing with her again on the outlaw cruise this past spring.

“Devil In My Ear” – Mya Byrne

She opened for us right before I came out to my band. I loved the Rhinestone Tomboy record so much and I didn’t know how badly I needed to be around a trans person before I came out. Mya has been an amazing friend to me over the last two years and “Devil in My Ear” is a banger.

Photo Credit: Andree Brown

River Shook Is as Disarming As Ever

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

After more than a decade fronting various alt-country bands – most notably the Disarmers – River Shook is now breaking out on their own.

The new chapter officially launched June 26 with the release of Shook’s self-titled debut. It’s stripped back instrumentally, but still features the same blunt songwriting and gritty vocals that longtime fans of the singer have come to know and love. As such, its 10 songs take listeners on a rollercoaster of emotions balancing equal parts sorrow and joy, ultimately reminding that we’re all stronger than we give ourselves credit for.

“This album is extremely dichotomous,” says Shook. “One constant is a theme of being able to hold two very contrasting emotions at the same time, which can be hard for many people and takes a level of self-awareness that I think we should all aspire to.”

Bringing the record to life was Shook’s bandmate and life partner, Blake Tallent, and together they produced the project inside their North Carolina home. That decision came after unsuccessfully shopping demos to record labels, then leaning on the guidance of friend and esteemed producer Brad Cook (Bon Iver, Waxahatchee, Mavis Staples), who stressed to them the need to build everything around the vocals.

“When he said that, my brain immediately went back to the times where we’ve made Disarmers records where I felt like vocally I was competing with the band and had to force my singing overtop of everything else,” explains Shook. “But with this album we wanted to figure out the vocals and build everything else around them. When we started recording we acted as if it was a demo, just me with an acoustic guitar, a mic and a click track in my ears. There’s still the rock ‘n’ roll people know me for, but it’s a lot more nuanced because we really wanted to make the vocals the North Star of this project. When I listen back to it now, I’m amazed at how natural my voice sounds – there’s no straining to break through the noise like before.”

Ahead of the album’s release, Shook caught up with Good Country to talk about disbanding the Disarmers, recording the new project exclusively at home with Tallent, why they opt to be so up front with pain in their songwriting, and more.

When did you first start planning for this solo project, and why was it important for you to effectively “kill off” the Disarmers before doing so?

River Shook: The Disarmers were together for about 10 years, but the last couple years of it we were dealing with the situation where we had all of these tours booked and my guitarist at the time, Eric Peterson, had to take a leave of absence because he was having some arm issues that were preventing him from being able to play. That started this weird cycle of having to bring in sub musicians and soon after everything fell apart. Our bassist ended up leaving followed by our drummer, leaving us in this mode of band-aid fixes since we had so many shows already on the books. We were so busy that we didn’t have time to even really be intentional about who we were bringing in, it was just a matter of “can they play the instrument well and are they available?” – there wasn’t any time to reflect.

I was also getting really burned out, and on top of that I’m a very introverted person, so it was really hard for me to get used to new people. Couple that with the fact that sometimes we would have people in the band that we just weren’t meshing with made it start to feel weird. I was constantly trying to hold together this thing that was determined to fall apart. Then in December of 2024 my other longest-running band member, Jack Foster – who had drummed with me for three or four years at that point – called me shortly after Thanksgiving and told me he could no longer commit to the band. Instead of the knee-jerk reaction that we’d all been having every time a band member left, I just decided to let go and move on. It wound up being a massive weight off my shoulders.

At the same time, I knew I [was] not quitting music, because it’s such a huge part of who I am, I just realized it was time for that chapter to come to a close. Immediately I began thinking about what’s next, not in a hectic or frantic way, but in a way that felt extremely liberating and inspiring. [I was] immediately inspired – like, I can take this wherever I want to.

You talking about feeling liberated has me thinking of the album’s opening track “Free At Last.” Was that your way of declaring you’ve broken free of what has weighed you down?

That’s absolutely what it felt like. That song is actually a reference to sort of a parallel storyline that was occurring at the time. I had to cut my parents off for a while, which is very hard to write a song about. Most people can’t relate to that, but I felt like if I can write this song about a divorce, that is something that so many people can understand. That – coupled with the fact that the Disarmers ending was very much a divorce in its own way – made this a song that I wanted to use to remind people that getting out of your shit is really hard to do. However, the freedom to do and pursue what we want on the other side is absolutely worth going through that heartache.

Speaking of your parents, you also sing about your up-and-down relationship with them on the record’s closing track, “Loving Me Is Like Rolling A Big Old Rock.” What was it like rehashing some of those memories and examining how your relationship has evolved with them over time?

I was working through a lot of stuff with all the songs on this record and trying to be more honest with myself about my childhood and my teen years, which were rough. I know my parents meant well and were coming from a good place, but it was a very controlling and authoritarian household where I experienced a lot of religious and gender-based trauma. In their minds I was born a girl, so I was only supposed to exist to be a wife, mother, and housekeeper. They’ve since come a long way with their beliefs and don’t think like that anymore, which I’m grateful for, but the damage had already been done.

More recently I was at a point where I [was] grappling with all this stuff as an adult and going to therapy to try to come to terms with it all. Therapy is a great tool, but it can only get you so far. There’s so much work that you have to do yourself and that’s part of what writing this record was, it was me therapizing myself. It was me having very honest and frank discussions with myself about what happened and what I need to do to have a healthier perspective of all of the bad things that I’ve dealt with.

So “Loving Me Is Like Rolling A Big Old Rock” is supposed to feel kind of mischievous and fun because it is touching on such heavy topics that unfortunately I think a lot of people can relate to. When most people become parents for the first time they’re not prepared, because their parents weren’t prepared to be parents either – it’s a tale as old as time.

You and your partner Blake Tallent produced this album yourselves inside your home studio in North Carolina. What led to that approach, and is it something you’d ever done before?

The first four Disarmers records were studio albums, but with my side project, Mightmare featured the only other record that I’ve made at home, although that was a completely different situation. That entire record was me, a MacBook with GarageBand, and a Scarlett Focusrite [interface] – it was very DIY. When I wrapped up the Disarmers, I had demos that our manager was shopping around. We were getting some interest but nothing more, and it got to a point where the timeline that I had with our touring schedule required that we release this in spring of 2026. That’s when we started making the record at home between just the two of us.

Blake is a killer multi-instrumentalist, so much so that it blows my mind. He lived in Nashville for a long time and still has a house on the east side. When he lived there he was producing records, playing instruments, and even mixing – he’s a fucking weapon! Our original goal with this record was to have a whole band on it and to capture it at Sonic Ranch, since that place has been on my bucket list for several years. When the things that you want don’t work out, you can get lost in the defeat and your emotions or you can notice it as an opportunity to do something else, and that’s how we chose to approach it. I’m so grateful that [Blake] was fully on board.

The Disarmers had a couple fly-out dates at the end of June 2025 and by July 1 we were hunkered down in the house and started making the record using Pro Tools. Blake taught me the basics of Pro Tools so that while he’s playing drums or bass, I can be running the session and he doesn’t have to multitask. It was also nice not running into that “too many cooks in the kitchen” issue, because both of our creative visions were 100% aligned. I can’t think of a single disagreement we had in the studio, which simply does not happen. Having a creative partner who’s also your life partner and being in alignment together on a project of this magnitude was incredible, and I think because of that our synchronicity really shines through on this record. It sounds very cohesive without any kind of dissonance or struggle.

How long has Blake been playing with you?

He joined the band as a sub in June of 2022, then we were seeing each other by August and fell in love on our first European tour together, completely unexpectedly. The story of how we met is told in “Running to Georgia.” It was a combination of crazy coincidences and planets aligning for us to have even met in the first place.

That’s funny, because the first time I listened to that song I assumed it was about you trying to get away from someone. How exactly did y’all find each other?

The Disarmers were playing the El Rocko Lounge in Savannah in October of 2021. When I walked in the venue I saw him across the room and immediately thought, “That’s my person!” It wasn’t like it was love at first sight or a sexual thing, it was just this acknowledgment and recognition. Then he walked over to me and held his hand out and said, “Hey, I’m your sound tech” and I was so embarrassed. [Laughs] I thought I’d made a terrible mistake, but then I ended up going out to a bar after the show to meet another friend who happened to be in town on tour and Blake was there. We wound up having this great night of hanging out with friends and talking, but the next day I was so depressed because I thought I’m never gonna see this person again.

Then a few months later we needed a guitar sub and my manager emailed me out of nowhere saying there’s this guy named Blake Tallent who knows all the songs and is available for all the dates, and my jaw hit the floor. It was destiny.

That’s lovely. I’m so glad you found your person!

The next song I wanted to ask you about is “Wildlands,” which was your first single as a solo artist but isn’t included on this album. Why is that?

“Wildlands” was a separate thing. When we made the record, the only instruments that Blake didn’t play were banjo and pedal steel. But immediately after we made it, he got a pedal steel and stated that he wanted to do it himself next time – which he did when we eventually recorded this song. At the time we were talking with a label and everyone involved was 99% certain that we were going to sign with them, but it ended up being an absolute fiasco. Initially we planned for the song to be a single leading up to the album singles, but when this label deal fell through I realized we had no option other than to self-release unless we wanted to move the album to the fall. At that point I’d already put a band together and promised people jobs so that wasn’t going to happen, but I still really wanted to get the song out since I knew fans were hungry to hear what this new project is gonna feel and sound like.

In that sense it was like revenge putting this out. I didn’t know if we were going to find another label or distribution partner – or what-the fuck-ever – but [“Wildlands” was] going to be a standalone thing, which I think was very symbolic. In the end, that single is 100% independent – I own the masters, the publishing, and the songwriting. We were very fortunate to find a distribution partner for the record, but I think that song is really special and has its own thing going on.

In lieu of not landing a record deal you released the album under your own imprint, Blackberry River. Mind telling me about the origins of its name?

I’ve been working on a memoir … When you’re having to really rethink your childhood and the things that occupied your time– one big thing for me was summer, because winters in Western New York are absolutely brutal. It’s like six months of winter and gray sky, so spring and summer have always been my favorite seasons. My favorite thing about summer was our backyard, which was pretty big and had these amazing blackberry bushes that my older sister and I would go out to with baskets to fill up while also eating them right off the bush. The wild nature of blackberries – not as a thing that’s an agricultural commodity, but something that is just literally wild and free – is something I relate to so deeply. So Blackberry River is just a nod to my 8-, 10-year-old self that was barefoot running through the yard with purple blackberry hands. [Laughs]

What has bringing this record to life taught you about yourself?

I learned that less is more sometimes and that I can be a very hyper-focused type of person, which sometimes means I need to step back and take in the bigger picture. I’m just now developing the ability to step back and see things more as a whole than as individual parts. Doing that gave me a lot more perspective on how to make this album really shine.

Photo Credit: Jillian Clark

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

Ringo Starr and T Bone Burnett in Conversation

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

On a sunny day in late April, I stood outside an ad hoc interview room at the Sunset Marquis in West Hollywood waiting for my turn to speak to Ringo Starr.

Sporadic laughter boomed through the door as the hazy afternoon light danced on the doorknob hanger. Instead of the usual “Do Not Disturb,” this one simply said, “Peace.” The verbiage, apropos for Ringo, served as one part levity and one part beta-blocker as I prepared to speak to a Beatle.

When the door opened, I was surprised and delighted to come face to face with Phil Rosenthal (of Somebody Feed Phil). The unabashed smile on his face foreshadowed the similar joy I would feel taking the same steps through that door just 25 short minutes later.

And yet another revelation unfolded as I walked in the room to find both Mr. Starr and T Bone Burnett, producer of Ringo’s newest album, Long Long Road. The ensuing discussion covered their relationships with genre, synesthesia, and inevitably bobbed and weaved across the rich musical history of these two icons.

Do I get both of you today?

Ringo Starr: Yes!

Excellent!

T Bone Burnett: Only if you want.

RS: Hi. I’m Ringo.

Ha! Yes. The man of the hour. How are you?

RS: Good. Excellent.

Thank you so much for having me.

RS: Oh, it’s our pleasure.

TB: Her dad is a great songwriter, a great guitar player from Muscle Shoals.

RS: We were just talking to someone else about that today.

Really? You were talking about Muscle Shoals today?

RS: Well, we didn’t actually mention it, but we were talking about the music that, for me, started with Johnny Ray and people like that. I was a teenager, and then it went up to country music, and then I got into blues music, and then I got into pop of the day music.

I love country music. And he’s the country boy [as he points to T Bone Burnett].

That’s a fantastic segue to my first question. So as we mentioned, I grew up in Muscle Shoals, and I had this record player that was a little battery-operated blue Volkswagen bus. Do you remember these?

TB: Yeah, I do!

It would ride around the record, and it had a little speaker in it, and I would lay on the ground, and I’d listen to Abbey Road. But it was also around the same time that the video for “Act Naturally,” the duet with Buck Owens, came out. So, for me, you were very genre-fluid from a very early age. I’m curious about a couple of things genre-wise, and T Bone, please jump in on this too.

TB: Okay, I’ll jump in, and I’ll say that the Beatles probably invented what became known as “country rock.” You know, with “I Don’t Want to Spoil the Party.”

RS: And what were the two that were Carl Perkins?

TB: “Honey Don’t” and “Matchbox.”

RS: “Honey Don’t” was the best line I ever heard.

TB: Yeah, it is a killer title.

RS: “Matchbox” was a blues song, really.

TB: Well, “Matchbox” was an old Blind Lemon Jefferson song.

RS: Yes. The interesting thing is I did those in the ’60s, and we just found a Carl Perkins tune that we’d never heard, and we’ve done it on this record. “I Don’t See Me in Your Eyes Anymore.”

I love it.

RS: It is so beautiful and he was just a cool guy. You know, I was a teenager when I first heard him, and it was like, “Oh yeah!”

T Bone: Yeah, he was cool. He, [Carl], had heard “Matchbox” or his dad had heard it by Blind Lemon Jefferson, but they could only remember a few words of it, so he rewrote it as a rockabilly song.

So you knew of country music when you were growing up, you were aware of it.

RS: I did. I was aware of country music. I loved it because it was emotional, and I was a teenager. That’s what we are at that age.

[Ringo singing:] “ Well the wife is dead and I’m leaving home. I got no money for the jukebox.”

Perfect for teenagers.

When I say the words “country music” to you now, what do you think of? Who or what or how do you think of it?

RS: I still think a lot about the people from yesterday, who I came in with. You’ve got to say Willie. I mean, he’s magical and still out there. Thank you, Willie. And who used to open for Willie?

TB: Waylon?

RS: Waylon! He was great. I have to think back.

TB: Well Hank Williams…

RS: Well, no, Hank was where we came in. And Hank Snow. No one mentions him. He was Canadian. Patsy Cline. There’s too many really.

I was talking to someone the other week and they asked, “What is your all-time favorite record?” I couldn’t answer. There is too much that I love. “Who’s your favorite artist?” I start with Ray Charles. And Stevie, and down that line. But I can’t answer it. We were on TV, and I stopped it. I said, “I just can’t answer.” There are too many in my life to say, “That’s the one.”

Plead the 5th.

Do you ever feel constrained by genre? Or inspired by it? What is your relationship with the idea of it?

RS: I’m a pop-rock music drummer. I’ll play whatever you’re gonna give me. If you want it heavy, I’ll hit the cymbals. Heavy metal has some great acts going down. We would jam sometimes and be that.

TB: Oh, well, I mean, the Beatles invented heavy metal, really.

RS: Yeah. It’s just playing the same shit, but heavier.

TB: “Everybody’s Got Something to Hide Except Me and My Monkey” or “Helter Skelter.”

RS: “Helter Skelter” was a jam. We had no song, nothing, we were just jamming, and then Paul came in with, “Hey! Helter Skelter.” Like “Say It’s Your Birthday,” there was someone in the newspaper who we knew, and it was their birthday, and we were jamming. Paul stepped up again, and we got another song. We were like that. You could jump in, any one of us could jump in. I’ve got odd lines we aren’t gonna talk about on certain tracks.

[A publicist chimes in to say:] “T Bone you have five more minutes before you have to leave and then you’ll go and he’ll stay in.”

RS: And then I’ll go and then you’ll stay in. [Laughter]

Well, let’s go back to the Volkswagen.

RS: Let’s get back to it.

Because I have a little bit of synesthesia, I think.

TB: I have that, too.

RS: What have you got?

TB: I see colors when I hear music.

RS: Oh, great!

So, “Octopus’s Garden” was very purple for me. “Act Naturally” is very orangey gold. I’m curious if you’ve ever experienced anything like that. And if it’s not colors, if there are certain textures that you’re looking for in a song, when you’re casting songs for an album? And T Bone, this question’s for you too, since you have it.

RS: T Bone will give me a lot of songs, and I listen to them and I picked my six at the beginning. There were only three I didn’t use. That’s how we started this. In the end, we were talking in my little studio and I said to him, “How many songs have you got?” And he had nine. It gave me the courage to ask him if he would produce the record. All the songs were not on my mind; we were just hanging out like two guys. But it turned into a fellowship.

TB: Well, I can tell you that the Beatles stuff that first came out was very dark blue, all of it. “Don’t Bother Me” especially was the most dark blue of them. It was interesting that the album cover that first came out over here [in the U.S.] was dark blue. So it all sort of coalesced, I think.

That was one of those blessed moments that happen occasionally on earth, you know? Where everybody heard the same thing at the same time.

Absolutely.

RS: I never saw colors. I mean, I did see colors some days… You know what I mean?

[All laugh]

RS: When I listened, it’s how I felt. A sad song, a happy song, a rock song– some of it will move you, and some of it moved me.

TB: Well, I’d better go. But thank you, great to see you again.

Yeah, you too. Nice to see you again.

[As T Bone got up to leave, his wife entered the room and chatter ensued, but he added before walking out the door:]

TB: By the way, “I Want to Hold Your Hand” was very dark blue.

Well, you know, what’s funny is, I had a synesthesia question for Ringo about you, because I didn’t know you were going to be here. But I was going to say that your musical color and texture is exactly like what you are wearing, to me.

TB: Oh, is that right? That’s wild. Thank you! Nice to see you all.

RS: God Bless, peace and love!

Tell me about what it is like for you working in Nashville? Tell me what it feels like working with those players.

RS: I did have experience in the early ’70s when Pete Drake invited me to come, because we were working on a George Harrison record. You know, we keep talking about the steps we take, the moves we make. And I was there with George, and I’m playing for him and he’d called Pete – I didn’t know Pete. Pete had landed at Heathrow, and the car George was sending broke down, so we sent my car. And then he arrived. “Hey, hoss, I see you like country music.”

“Yeah, yeah, I do. How do you know?”

He said, “All those cassettes in your car.”

And then a few days later, he’s saying, “You should come to Nashville.” And I thought, “I’m not going to Nashville. I’m doing stuff here. I don’t have a month or six weeks to go to Nashville.” He said, “A month? Six weeks? Nashville Skyline took two days.” And I said, “I’m coming.” And I went, and we did the same thing.

On the first day, five songs were picked in the morning. Between us, we listened to them all. Five songs were recorded, and five songs were finished. And the next day, we picked five songs. Anyway, it went on the same way, and it was finished. And it took two days, so that was great.

Well, Ringo, you have one of the finest reputations in the music business.

RS: As a drummer or else?

EM: As a drummer, as a human.

RS: Or as a tall person?

The tallest around.

Just for being so kind to people and emanating peace and love, obviously. And you’ve been such a beacon of that for so many decades. Especially in the last couple of weeks I’ve been thinking a lot about that, after finding out that I was going to talk to you. I was curious, I’m sure it’s mostly innate, but do you ever feel like it’s a responsibility – in terms of how you are in the public, in terms of what songs you’re picking? I’m particularly thinking of “Choose Love.”

RS: I just do my best, you know, to pick the songs that give you some movement, and you say, “Oh, I’d like to sing that.” That’s what I’m with these two country songs with T Bone. I mean, I don’t really do it in a political way, that it says this or that. It’s usually peace and love. If I write it, it’s always peace and love – I don’t know what the question was.

Just wondering if it ever feels like a responsibility to you.

RS: You know, I’ve had many a good year, but some years I’ve made really bummer mistakes. It’s like that’s when your brain wins. I mean, even on this record, I’ve got the lines about “let the stuff come in, but let it go.” And I’ve been pretty good at that for a long time. Not that it’s every second of my life. Sometimes it gets in. And it stays in your thoughts. Then you’re in hell. I’m blessed that that doesn’t happen half as much anymore. I can just dump the thought that comes in and deal with whatever it is.

I was going to ask you about that line in particular, because I think it does this beautiful job of talking about a meditative quality of finding peace without being preachy or telling people “how to” and I really love that.

RS: I meditated this morning. I meditate every morning, this time since ‘92. You know, we went to the Maharishi in India with the boys. And I was worried, you know, “Am I doing it properly?” I was talking to him [Maharishi] and he says, “Ringo, even if you fall asleep, you must have been tired.”

And it taught me a great lesson. I was into like, madness and stuff, you know, “It must be this. It must be me. What’s the problem?” And now I get quite calm.

That’s wonderful. Yeah. It comes across on this album. You’re talking about your own experience and that’s–

RS: What else can I talk about? I can’t talk about yours, you know? But thank you.

Tell me about the band that played on this record.

RS: T Bone’s whole band is great. The rest of Nashville is so great. They all came out to help me. To be there. It is in my heart.

Last January, when I was there and back three times. And every time when I’ve played at the Ryman… I’ve been playing there for the last 15 years with the All Stars, but when I go on that stage, I feel all the guys and all the gals who stood on that stage.

And then what happens? The Grand Ole Opry invited me to do three songs. And I go on that stage that has the Ryman circle that the singers stand on. It is magical. For me, coming from England, it was really magical to get on that stage. And the people are great. It is built for music coming out and hitting everybody, because it was a gospel church. I’m still moved. I get on the stage, and I have to go through a minute of, “Wow, wow!”

Photo Credit: Dan Winters

Haylie Davis is Keeping Laurel Canyon Sounds Alive and Well

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

California dreaming has become a sonic reality once more. An affinity for 1960s and ‘70s Laurel Canyon sounds is alive and well, including acolytes from onetime Brooklyn punk-rockers across to Los Angeles-based former pop and R&B singers turned country-rockers. A new cohort of such artists based in Tovaangar (the traditional lands of the Tongva, the region including Laurel Canyon and all of what is now called LA) follows Jonathan Wilson’s coronation as “the New King of the Canyon,” and the historical book round-up Canyon of Dreams published at the end of the 2000s.

Influenced by Gram Parsons and other period icons, Northern California-born-and-raised singer-songwriter Haylie Davis is a shining star of this current Laurel Canyon wave. Her debut album Wandering Star – released June 5 on Fire Records – situates her well in the cosmic American music pantheon.

Davis has circled the Los Angeles music scene for a spell with previous musical incarnations being as one-half of country duo Will & Haylie (with Will Worden); the folksy Lady Apple Tree; and under her given name, Haylie Hostetter, contributing vocals to projects of her Canyon-rock peers. Davis descends from the sonic lineage of Jackie DeShannon, whose trailblazing 1968 Laurel Canyon presaged Ladies of the Canyon. Her other key foremothers are Mary McCaslin (Mary Noel Singing Bear, Kiowa Apache) – who got her start at the Troubadour Monday Hoot Night in the late ’60s, often plying imagery of old-timey California and the Wild West – as well as Wendy Waldman, who wrote incisive songs about the tangled love affairs of hip LA.

Davis’s pellucid soprano ascends to the stratosphere, displaying that she has the voice, sounds, and image of a singer-songwriter transported to an LA canyon of yore (she did live in Topanga) – and of a singer-songwriter that could be a big star in 2026. Indeed, Wandering Star, showing a young woman artist with mythopoeic songs with quiet thunder and heartfelt illumination, could be enshrined as Carole King’s Tapestry for a younger generation.

What was your musical upbringing like in Northern California?

Haylie Davis: I was fortunate. My high school had a really good music program, so I was able to take vocal ensemble. But guitar, I would say to this day, I’m not the best at guitar. I mostly just write with guitar. I picked guitar up when I was 16 and have since just been kind of figuring it out.

Do you figure out your songs by ear or do you read music from that teaching?

I don’t know how to read music. I don’t know, honestly, much about music theory. I’d say it’s mostly just by ear. I’ve tried to learn more in-depth about theory, but I feel like my brain has a hard time understanding it. It’s still kind of mysterious. I feel like I learned singing best from just mimicking and singing along to songs consistently.

So, how did the songs from Wandering Star flow to you?

I think it’s just kind of a sequel or it’s just a continuation of my first project, which was Lady Apple Tree. I have one album out under that name, and that album was very much a naive, youthful take on music, just kind of starting out. And I think that Wandering Star is kind of a progression of that into something a little bit more mature, a reflection of more time spent in Los Angeles, the people I’ve associated with, and just a little bit more of a growth, you know? I didn’t sit down and just write the whole album as is; I think songs just kind of trickle in as time goes on. And so those were just my favorites from that passage of time.

What was your approach to producing as you did on the new album? How did you find the studio that you used for it?

So, most of the songs were recorded at my friend’s studio named Ian Doerr. He’s not at the same place anymore, but at the time he was in Highland Park in Los Angeles and he has an all-analog studio called Love Magnet.

And I partnered up with Sam Burton, who was my partner at the time as well, and I would say he was probably one of the biggest influences on the sound. He was kind of like my confidant, someone I’d always be asking for his input and advice and his guidance. He’d been in the music industry longer than I had at that point so he had a lot more insight. I just thought that he has a very, very good ear for production, and I think he’s really good at nailing what a song needs. I call it a partnership just because I feel like he took the lead on most of it, but I also have a very specific way that I want things to sound, certain instruments I want on certain things, and certain drum beats, so I participated in that as well.

How do you command your stage?

I feel like that’s definitely been developed over the years, and it depends on if I’m by myself or with band. I was opening for this band called Nude Party, and they were, at the time, a six-piece or seven-piece band of all dudes. And they were kind of rowdy, you know? I showed up by myself. At first, it was kind of hard wrangling a crowd of people who were there to see a full band just playing by myself. I feel like I was almost catering toward them, trying to win their attention over, and it was hard. I was struggling. And then by maybe the third or fourth show, I remember just being like I don’t care. I’m over this. I’m just gonna go up there and play the songs for me and feel them as deeply as I can. And that show literally just switched the energy; people were receptive.

I learned a lot through that experience. I think I learned that it was about communicating the songs as best as you can. You have to go up there and be strong and be unapologetic.

What is the story behind my favorite of the album’s songs which is “Country Boy?”

I actually wrote that song a long time ago, when I was playing with the first band I toured with which was Sylvie and we were all playing together. And I just came up with this melody, chord progression, and words, and I didn’t do anything with it for maybe two, three years, at all. Then, all of a sudden, the rest of the song kind of came together when I was living in Altadena. I feel like most of the people and men I’ve interacted with in the music scene and just in Los Angeles have been transplants from the Midwest or the South and trying to make it in California.

On the topic of California, how do you feel about previous reviews linking you to the Laurel Canyon scene lineage? Do you identify with any of the artists from that history?

Identify is a strong word. I definitely listen, and I feel like they’re all very much close to my heart, you know, I listen to them quite a bit, and I feel like they’re very formative in my music and also how my life progressed. Linda Ronstadt, and Neil Young, and Joni Mitchell, those figures I feel like musically were very inspiring to me. So, I don’t mind comparisons; I get it. Obviously, my goal is to not replicate but make something of my own.

I saw that you’re a fan of Gram Parsons. Do you have any specific influence from him?

Oh yeah, most definitely! I love him. He’s probably one of my top artists as well. I just think that song “Hickory Wind” is maybe my favorite song. Every time I hear that song, I’m just blown away. He’s huge for me; I’m very inspired by him. I was lucky enough to stay at the hotel room that he passed away in, in Joshua Tree, for a couple nights on New Year’s 2026 – which was really special.

I really think Wandering Star could be an equivalent of Tapestry for your generation. I don’t know if you relate to that statement or not?

Thank you! Oh, wow!

Love. Well, it’s hard. I feel like it’s hard to be completely self-aware of […] it’s hard to see yourself how others see you, you know? I’m just like me, and I’m just out here trying to make it, trying to survive. But I appreciate that; it means a lot. Because it takes a lot of work. I like Carole King as well. But I will say, it’s interesting because I do think that there’s been a kind of exodus out of LA at the moment. I’ve moved to Brooklyn.

Since you’ve moved across Turtle Island do you think the “California Dream” is dead for artists?

I think that there are energy hubs, like New York, LA, certain places that I don’t think it’ll ever fully go away. But I do think that there are seasons for places in cities. And I think that, at least for this specific niche that I’m a part of, I think that it’s a little bit in a low season over in LA. I think that it’s swinging over to New York right now.

Speaking of California dreamin’, I heard that you made pictures previously with my friend the photographer Henry Diltz. Do you think what he shot is like the ones that he did for various legends?

I actually took those a few years back. I was dating this guy named Will Worden who plays music. He lives in LA and I don’t know how he got Henry Diltz’s info, but he did. [Henry] came by and just shot us and it was really, really cool. Like, obviously, he’s a legend. I haven’t really posted any of those photos, so maybe I’ll look back and check them out.

Are there some albums that you find you listen to in emotional times that help you through?

There’s some things I always go back to, but right now, I haven’t really been listening to Joni Mitchell that much. I feel like she’s someone that I can listen to at any time. Right now, I am going through a breakup, and it’s crazy, but I’m surprised by the music that I’ve been listening to… I’ve been really into the first Gipsy Kings album – the second song on that record, it just really hits. I’ve been really feeling it. I love Elliott Smith; I’ve been listening to him.

Oh, I’ve been listening to Anita Ward lately, too. She does “Ring My Bell.” You know that song? And she also has a song called “Spoiled By Your Love” that has been on repeat.

What else about Wandering Star do you want known?

One of the reasons why it feels special to me is because of the people who were working on it, just like how much dedication they shared and it means so much. Just a lot of care from people who didn’t have to do that, but they did. It’s like a nice pin in all of our timelines. It’s coming to a point where we’re all kind of moving in different directions in a lot of ways. And I’m happy to have this shared moment.

I’m just grateful for everybody who participated because honestly it couldn’t have happened especially as I was broke. I didn’t have any money to really do it, and everyone just kind of showed up and was there for it. That doesn’t always happen. You don’t always have people around like that, so I really, really appreciate them for that.

Photo Credit: Sarah Ward

Keyland’s Friends in Low Places Playlist All About Tulsa

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

The music scene in Tulsa, Oklahoma, is alive and well. If I’d thought otherwise at any point in time, it wouldn’t take long for a stranger in an Austin dive or a songwriter in Nashville to remind me – and they have. I’ve called Tulsa home for 10 years and gladly claim and evangelize her as often as I can. This little-big town’s reputation of producing quality singer-songwriters and musicians is justified, however biased I am.

Come with me, Keyland, on a little walk through a Tulsa-Mixtape journey. Before we begin, I’d like to offer a few important listening notes:

1) I regret that I will inevitably leave some folks out, merely due to the limitation of brevity. My sincerest apologies. But I’d like to point out that this list is composed of my personal friends in the Tulsa music scene. Beers on me at the Mercury Lounge to any friends I leave out here…

2) This is a list of current artists. The Tulsa music scene is often associated with only a handful of eclectic deceased writers and musicians. God bless them – but Tulsa has changed a lot in the last 50 years or so. My friends included here do an amazing job of looking ahead at what the future holds.

Let’s jump in! – Kyle Ross, Keyland

“Dripping Coffee” – Ramsey Thornton

Ramsey is one of my best friends and most likely the very best musician I know. He plays drums and sings harmonies in my band, Keyland, and he is an incredible guitar and banjo player. In the best way, this album is more a composition than anything else.

“Stranger” – Wilderado

This is my favorite band. I so respect the way these guys approach rock and roll with a blue-collar “dad” mentality. It’s truly inspiring, and the way I want to approach music as a career.

“Coyote” – Ken Pomeroy, John Moreland

This is a two-for-one selection: Ken and John are both powerhouse songwriters and singers. Both these artists are gifted in very special ways and I’m glad they make music.

“Get to You” – Micah Felts

Micah Felts is hilarious, a fantastic songwriter, and an all-around great dude and friend. He is also a stellar acoustic guitar player.

“Better If Worse” – HAFFWAY

Sam Westhoff is slipping in this Tulsa music list, because I sure as hell wasn’t going to leave him out. He is one of my best friends and has produced all of my music. He lives in Nashville now and is famous (rightfully so).

“Comanche Moon” – John Ferrell

John Ferrell is one of the most rawly talented players and singers I know. I met John while we were both in college and he learned to play guitar better than me and all my other friends in like three months.

“Marigold” – Chris Bo Jones

Also sneaking in this Tulsa list is OKC rockstar Chris Bo Jones. Lineman by day, rock star by night, Chris is one of my favorite singers.

“Outside” – MORE&MORE, Beachfriends

Brady Ballew (the happiest person I know) used to play professional soccer. Now his band MORE&MORE and Keyland like to sell out shows in our favorite Tulsa dive, the Mercury Lounge. I’ve listened to this song 10,000 times.

 “Call Me Anytime” – Sports

Christian introduced me to nicotine toothpicks and Australian beer one time after a HAFFWAY show. These guys produce a lot of cool stuff in Tulsa. And Sports is like a huge band.

“Bullfighter” – Joleen Brown

Joleen Brown is Tulsa’s sweetheart. Her voice is crazy good and she is the sweetest, coolest person you will meet.

“Wishes” – Travis Linville

I’m new to Travis’s music and I’m so glad I found it. This is like a Tom Petty song in the best way. I don’t know Travis super well, but it seems like he has a really grounded view on the reality of what it means to be a musician in 2026, and for all the right reasons.

“More” – Kalyn Fay

Kayln Fay just put out a really cool record that highlights and honors her Cherokee culture and roots.

“This Damn Funky” – Johnny Mullenax

Johnny plays guitar 1000 miles per hour. Johnny’s band plays their music at 1000 miles per hour also. The live show is insane.

 “South and Pine” – Zach Bryan, King Cabbage Brass Band

I have not met Zach yet, but I have drank one million beers at 5 or 6 of his concerts. The horn section in this new record of his is a Tulsa band called the King Cabbage Brass Band and it is physically impossible to not have fun at a show of theirs. And they also do really cool work in our community by teaching band camps for kids – they recently held a concert at Cain’s Ballroom and their band camp kids absolutely crushed a song on the main stage.

“Cowboy Song” – BC & the Big Rig, Jacob Tovar

This is another two-for-one selection: Brandon Clark was one of the first people to ever believe in my band, Keyland, and let us play our first real gig with them. Jacob Tovar has a buttery voice and one of the funniest people you could give a microphone to. You can catch both of these gentleman holding down separate residencies at local dives – Tonkin’ Tuesdays with Tovar and BC’s Sunday Service – you guessed it, at the Mercury Lounge.

Photo courtesy of the artist.

Another New Chapter Begins for 49 Winchester

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

One of the most heartwarming stories in roots music over the past decade has been the emergence of 49 Winchester. The group of high school friends-turned-roommates – then bandmates – emerged from the hollers of Southwest Virginia to become an ACM Award-nominated group and a future household name, off the back of songs like “Hays, Kansas” and “Russell County Line.”

Now, on their new album Change Of Plans, they’re ready to take big next steps, enlisting help from someone who’s frequented that kind of territory to do it. Released on May 15, the group – Isaac Gibson (vocals), Bus Shelton (lead guitar), Chase Chafin (bass), Noah Patrick (pedal steel), Tim Hall (keys), and Justin Louthian (drums) – teamed up with Dave Cobb for the project. It’s their most expansive to date, as it navigates everything from honky-tonk (“Bringin’ Home the Bacon”) to Southern rock (“Pardon Me”) and 2000s alternative (“Heavy Chevy”).

The album is not only the band’s first with Cobb, it’s also their maiden venture with Cobb’s imprint, Lucille Records. (It’s being released in partnership with MCA, where Cobb was named Chief Creative Officer in 2025, and New West Records, 49 Winchester’s label home since 2022’s Fortune Favors The Bold.) Isaac Gibson knew that Lucille would be a good home for the band because he was confident that Cobb would grant them creative freedom. Which he did.

“I don’t think there’s anybody else in the world that has quite the same brain as him,” remarks Gibson. “He’s hyper-efficient and unbelievably tasteful with what he does. Because of that, there was a lot less overthinking than usual. It was very instinctual, like catching lightning in a bottle.

“We also tracked it live for the first time, which is always something we wanted to do. The best way to experience 49 Winchester has always been at a live show, so we wanted to capture some of that energy while also utilizing some of the tools only available in a studio. The result is a version of the band on steroids,” Gibson continues, laughing.

Ahead of the album’s release, Gibson spoke with BGS about the studio time with Dave Cobb, paying homage to Ozzy Osbourne, the band’s trilogy of law-breaking songs, and more.

Tell me about the decision to record the album in only eight days – was that a “Dave” thing?

Isaac Gibson: Previous records have taken a whole lot longer for us. There’s some really great records that have been labored over and over, and other ones that were like pulling a rabbit out of a hat. It was cool to have a different experience this time around where we just focused on doing the thing that got us here in the first place, which is playing and singing and saying things that resonate with us and make us feel good.

But doing things so quickly wasn’t a conscious decision either. It was just the first block of studio time we had available when we weren’t touring and happened to get things done fast. There was a lot of cohesive idea sharing, which was one of the most beautiful things about the entire experience.

One of the most intriguing moments to me came with the inclusion of “Changes,” a Black Sabbath cover that marks the first such tune to ever appear on one of the band’s studio albums. Why was this record and moment the right time to make it happen?

Ozzy’s death is definitely what lit the spark. I remember first throwing the idea for it out to the guys while we were eating lunch in a fellowship hall next to the church in Savannah where we were recording with Dave. We’d been tossing around ideas for dream 49 covers in a group chat for years, so when we decided to actually include one on the record, “Changes” was the first mentioned. We immediately went to record it, not even waiting to finish our lunch. [Laughs]

Once we started tracking it we wanted to grab hold of the raw emotion of it and send it home. It wasn’t even rehearsed – we talked about arrangements and song structure, then cut it. It was a really cool way to pay homage to not only Ozzy but also Charles Bradley, who died in 2017 and performed an awesome soulful version of the song that our version leans toward.

Would you say that “Changes” – both sonically and lyrically with the line “I’m going through changes” – is reflective of the band’s evolution present on this album?

That’s why we chose the title we chose, which is taken from a line in the song “Bluebird.” We’ve all grown so much since starting this band and seen a lot of change in our lives, but through it all 49 has remained steady. But right now has been a distinct season of change for us. We all started this band as kids just out of high school, and now we’re all grown up. This record is just as much about a new chapter for the band as it is new chapters for us individually. We’re all trying to be the best we can be every day, which is what a lot of this record is about.

Regarding “Bluebird,” is it a song about having a plan or vision for how you want a scenario to play out, only for something entirely different to happen instead?

You’re spot-on, and it’s something I’ve recently lived through, too. It sounds cliché, but I always want to write songs as honestly as I possibly can. I think the best thing you can do as a songwriter is give people a little bit deeper glimpse into your life than is sometimes comfortable for you. That’s also an example of what “Slowly” was for me, too. It’s me thinking I’ve got it all figured out, only to have circumstances change that make you rethink everything you thought you knew.

Whereas “Bluebird” focuses on plans not materializing as you’d hoped, it seems “Slowly” focuses more on personal growth and the process of trying – and sometimes failing – to get better?

That one’s not very abstract at all – it’s very direct. When you’re writing about your life sometimes you’ve got to commit to write about it all – the good, the bad and the ugly. Getting better and showing myself more grace through the ups and downs is something I’ve improved on a lot over the years, but I still have more to learn.

With that in mind, the writing on Change Of Plans feels in many ways like your most personal yet. What was the catalyst for that?

It was just a natural order of things. When you’ve only ever relied on your own experiences and feelings for songwriting, you have to find more ways to connect with folks as time goes on so you can get that little bit extra out. You can only write about love, breakups, and drinking so many times before it gets stale and you start wondering what you have left in the tank creatively. This record proved that we’re still able to dig in and continue to do things our own way while staying creatively fresh. As I write more I find myself getting more and more in tune with what I want to say, and this record is the culmination of that.

Jumping back to “Bluebird” and “Slowly,” there also seems to be a bit of yearning for a person on those songs as well. Which is also the case on “Oh, Savannah,” too, albeit with a more positive tone. Are there any other connections between them?

“Slowly” and “Oh, Savannah” were actually written on the same day. “Slowly” was a song I almost had finished before bringing to a [writing session] I had with Jessie Jo Dillon and Chris Tompkins to flesh out. After that we started working on something completely new, which wound up being “Oh, Savannah.” Jessie Jo knew we were making our record in Savannah, Georgia, and said she’d always wanted to write a song about the city, but painting the picture as if it were a girl instead.

As opposed to being something introspective or very personal to me, that one became more of a story song in the vein of “Damn Darlin’” that contains references to very Savannah-y things like the sand dunes and the Cherokee rose. It’s one of these places that aesthetically inspires creativity. There’s a vibe and age to it that I love being around, which made for some cool moments both with this song and the record in general.

Similar to the connection you just made between “Oh, Savannah” and “Damn Darlin’,” I can’t help but notice the ties between “Bringing Home the Bacon” and another track from Fortune Favors The Bold, “Hillbilly Daydream” – only the former is about running marijuana and not moonshine. Tell me about it.

That’s right! It’s part of a trilogy [with “Long Hard Life” from 2020’s III] of hard times and illicit substances being used as a way out of them. We wanted a real honky-tonker on the record and that song was one I’d sat on for about eight years. I had it finished at one point but couldn’t remember anything beyond the first verse, so we brought Aaron Raitiere in to help knock out the rest. He was the perfect guy for that particular song because he leans so hard into that humorous storyteller role like a modern-day John Prine. There’s always a nugget of something to crack a smile or chuckle about in his writing, and this song is no exception.

Are there any other songs on this record like “Bringin’ Home the Bacon” where the origins stem back years?

The first verse of “Heavy Chevy” was also something I sat on since before [recording 2024’s Leavin’ This Holler]. But those were the only two on this record that had been in the tank already without the chance to grow up yet. [Laughs] Songs are like that sometimes – they don’t come to fruition until you least expect it. Most of the songs I’m really proud of have happened very quickly and write themselves in an hour or two. But other times they don’t, and if you keep something of value for long enough then it’ll eventually turn into something else. Getting to breathe new life into something that was dormant and underground for a bit is super cool.

The band has been growing into bigger and bigger venues and straying farther and farther from Southwest Virginia with each passing year and album. Considering this, how has your perception of home changed since the band’s inception?

It’s difficult to say because our home is so linked to who we are. At the end of the day, you can take the boy out of the holler, but you can’t take the holler out of the boy. We’ve gotten to travel the world now and play music for people who don’t even speak our language, which is incredible. Doing that has actually made me appreciate where I come from even more. As I’ve gotten out and seen more, it’s also made me realize just how rare and difficult it is for us to do what we’ve done coming from where we did. In the early days we were still proud to be where we’re from, but we didn’t understand what it meant to be somebody paving the way for others and doing something no other band in Southwest Virginia had done until now.

What has the process of bringing Change Of Plans to life taught you about yourself?

Making this record got me to fall in love with all this again. We’ve worked really hard the past decade, which is good because there were a lot of cool opportunities coming our way, but a doldrum had set in on me that I was able to finally shake off working on this record. It really reignited my spark for the whole thing. My love for the live performance has always been there, but the act of touring can be so grueling. However, I now feel like I have so much left in the tank that I still want to say. This music is going to be our legacy long after we’re gone, so it’s important to stick to it and keep the pedal to the floor.

Photo Credit: Daniel Prakopcyk

The Working Songwriter: Joe Pernice

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Our guest on the Working Songwriter this week originally hails from Boston, Massachusetts, and now makes his home in Toronto. Joe Pernice got his musical start, though, in Northampton, Mass. At the time, it was a hot bed of indie music creativity. His band the Scud Mountain Boys built a loyal following in the 1990s with a string of critically acclaimed releases. He’s recorded for Sub Pop, One Little Indian, Team Love, and New West Records.

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Over the years Pernice has collaborated with a variety of blue-chip songwriters such as Aimee Mann, Neko Case, Norman Blake (of Teenage Fanclub), Jimmy Webb, Rodney Crowell, and Jim White. He’s also a man of many talents; his novel It Feels So Good When I Stop was published by Penguin Books in 2009. NPR calls him “a workhorse of a songwriter who delivers hard truths with the softest of whispers.” Brooklyn Vegan declared, “Few songwriters today imbue frustration and anguish into the sweetest of melodies as Joe Pernice.”

I got a chance to catch up with him a few months ago to hear about his musical journey so far.

Photo Credit: Colleen Nicholson

The Expansive Universe of Hiss Golden Messenger

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Next year, singer and songwriter MC Taylor will have been leading Hiss Golden Messenger for two decades. For most of that time, critics and listeners have relied on a few familiar narratives about Taylor: that he is a singular figure, for example; or that his move from California to Durham, North Carolina, marked a formal shift from punk to Americana; or even that he thinks slightly more than he feels. Talking to Taylor, from his home in Durham (well, there was a Zoom call involved), I found these cliches about his practices were limiting, factually accurate but emotionally untrue.

Instead of laser-focusing on one narrative, on telling the same stories over and over again, listening to Taylor speak, I encountered a new understanding of his practice, one which placed Taylor in the background and moved his bandmates and genre-play into the foreground – shifting from the centrality of a singular figure to a greater emphasis on generosity and expansiveness.

That the new album is called I’m People is the first clue that Taylor wants to expand the perception of his music; it’s a title that considers mutuality as central to the enterprise of musicmaking. So, how does one expand this thinking – one could consider him geographically or complicate these tales of origin, or think about who is playing on this record, or even refuse the standard narratives of genre.

Instead of focusing on the fact that Taylor began playing in hardcore bands in California, think about the other influences: that he played in a band named after Joni Mitchell’s Court and Spark, an album marked by an urbane distrust of other people’s desires. Or that, around the time he was carefully listening to Mitchell, he was also following that most American portable utopia, the Grateful Dead. Or think about his move to Durham, not strictly to play in a band, but to study folk music academically.

Or, consider how this album was recorded – at least partially – in upstate New York. A more cynical writer would note that Taylor borrows from Dylan’s Nashville Skyline, and that album itself was the foundation of a more isolated, lonely understanding of tradition after abandoning folk music, seeking a slightly more commercial understanding. Recording this in the Hudson Valley could be considered a pilgrimage or homecoming.

I don’t think that it is a homecoming just for Taylor; the record sounds lush, expansive formally, too. Perhaps because the people who sing or play on this record play in a collective of other bands, including Rhett Miller, the Mountain Goats, Bonny Light Horseman, and the Hold Steady.

The expansive nature of the band is not only connected to the history of music they listen to, or the other bands that they play in, but also more unexpected influences like Sade. The idea that Taylor is the band is false, and it is not even that Hiss is the band. Taylor expands the possibility of Hiss, but Hiss itself pushes the possibilities – because of where they come from, their other projects, and even the possibility of geography. Not because Durham is magically a place where music coalesces, but because for a long time it was a college town where rent was relatively cheap and lots of people liked playing music together.

When addressing genres, the promotional material calls the album Americana – but Americana is a useless category, one which might be country or folk or something else entirely. I’m People has a kind of intense richness that is neither of these genres. Listening to the LP, something happens where the expansion or fracturing of those playing on this record becomes its own kind of post-genre.

There are a lot of reasons not to love America right now, but emphasizing the American instead of Americana allows us to consider this album as a consequence of the totality of American music – Taylor addresses the improv nature of jazz as part of this, or traditional folk music, or even 1970s easy-listening. He speaks fondly of the detective novels of Elmore Leonard, and on at least one of his early albums the photography of William Gedney became a powerful totem.

I think of I’m People as a kind of ebbing and flowing for and against tradition, part of that decades-long wrestling with aesthetics and history. Consider the last song, “Depends on the River,” is another of his great songs about waterways. In a 2016 profile of Hiss, New Yorker critic Amanda Petrusich wrote about Hiss’s long tradition of river songs and how it fits into a century of metaphors from blues singer Geeshie Wiley to Joni Mitchell, working this tradition. Petrusich writes: “Taylor frequently evokes river imagery in his work; the river, of course, can be understood as its own kind of road, a direct line to somewhere else, far away.”

I don’t know if that’s wrong, but I also think about rivers as they turn into oxbow lakes, rivers which flow into swamps – literally bogged down – rivers that flow into oceans, and rivers that dry up depending on the season. Hiss’s meandering, deepening quality depends on that river, both the direct line that Petrusich talks about and the larger metaphor, one where Taylor literally talks about whether he dares to cross it. On I’m People, he not only crosses it and crosses it again, but brings along a whole community of other performers. And, an audience who is hungry for the difficulty and ambivalence of so much time playing – and thinking – with him, to the other side.

I know you have a degree in folklore studies, I also noticed that in the last few years there has been a cluster of second- or third-generation performers who have some academic training in folk traditions (see also: Jake Blount, Jake Xerxes Fussell, Willi Carlisle, etc.). Can you talk a little bit about the kind of intersection of formal and informal folk studies and also about your relationship to people who are making this kind of work? I’m thinking about the line on the song “Mercy Avenue” where you talk about the “boys on the corner knowing more than those with PhDs.”

MC Taylor: Well, it’s been a really long time since I was in the academics here. And that universe was one that I feel like I passed through briefly. I wasn’t destined to be in that realm forever. So, I’m not sure that I can totally speak to [that]. Like the place of academic/creative work.

I will say that my time in that space was a really good time for me, when I was restarting my brain and re-centering myself. School was a good way for me to step away from whatever I had been doing previously. I did a lot of field work at that time. I interviewed a lot of people, and I think that it made me a much better listener.

I think that, more than anything else, [that] is what I came away with, this feeling that people really, really like to be heard. So I think I just really tried to develop my listening skills.

Can you talk a little bit about working with a band – especially this band – and about how the bandmates are part of their own creative worlds? Is there a kind of politics there, or a kind of community making?

The basic tracking of the album was done with JT Bates playing drums and percussion, Cameron Ralston playing bass – both electric and upright – and Josh Kaufman, who was producing the record with me, playing guitars, mandolin, piano. My friend Chris Boerner was engineering the record. He plays guitar.

The road version of Hiss Golden Messenger, you know, [are] involved in a whole variety of things. JT, Cameron, and Josh play in Bonny Light Horseman. All three of them have also at various times been members of Hiss and have toured with Hiss. And in fact, that’s where those guys met – playing in Hiss. All of us have known each other for many, many years, so I consider those guys really good friends.

But we’ve never made a Hiss Golden Messenger record before. … They’ve worked on [other] records [together], but we never came together to create a Hiss Golden Messenger record together. It was this funny and unique situation in which we were already old friends, doing something that felt new and fresh. It didn’t feel like a complicated record to make for me. I think Josh Kaufman maybe would say the same thing, but Josh was performing sort of a different task than I was in the situation. It was a complicated record to write, but that was something of the solitary endeavor that took place over probably a year or a year and a half.

I really love those guys and I am delighted that they could be there to play on the record. I think of them as absolute top-tier musicians, every one of them. Cameron is currently playing with the Mountain Goats, he plays all kinds of jazz, he plays in the Spacebomb House Band. JT Bates plays drums with Big Red Machine, which is Aaron Dessner and Justin Vernon. And [he’s] just a legendary drummer in Minneapolis. Josh Galvin plays with everybody.

There are some songs on this album about hope and I wondered about making work about hope in this specific social and political moment? “Shaky Eyes” or “Heavy Worlds,” for example.

[I am interested] in how we [have] the energy to get through the messiness of life. And not only this particular time that we’re living through – although that is the most depressing. But just like life in general. I don’t think that we can do – or I don’t think I can do – life alone. So, in a way this record is me writing to myself. Maybe now [about] how important other people are.

I think I realized that the most important part is moving through, and needs to involve being around [other people]. Over the past few years, just speaking personally, the idea of community has felt like a more and more important part of it.

Thinking about that – and how dense/lush the production here is – though you are marketed as “Americana,” I wonder about how you view genre. And also how your band does – I’m thinking about background vocalist Annie Nero’s bio for radio: “She loves to find the common thread between musical ideas and genres…but also break free of genres because life’s too short to limit ourselves based on perceived taste!”

I listen to lots of different stuff. I think all of that stuff finds its way into what I’m doing. It’s a little tricky. I used to have a stronger stay-in-your-lane [attitude] about the term “Americana,” but I just don’t think that I care very much anymore. It’s not a word that I generally use. But I understand why it exists. Many of my favorite songwriters exist in that world.

What would you call your genre then?

I mean, I wouldn’t. I guess that’s what I’m saying.

Like, if I was at the dog park and I was talking to a stranger, and they said, “Oh, you’re a musician? What kind of music do you play?” I’d probably say, “Kind of rock and roll.” I generally am not describing my music in terms of genre, I guess. If I told someone that I played rock and roll, and they asked me to extrapolate on that, I would say something like, “Rock and roll that’s really swinging.” I try and concentrate on the rhythmic elements. I love singer-songwriter type music from the ’60s and ’70s. I like really oddball stuff. I love Bruce Ruffin reggae; I love free jazz. There’s a lot of music that I have inside of me. There’s a lot of music that Josh, Cameron and Chris – [that] we all have inside of us. I think it’s just a question of how we get it out and put it into use in a way that feels genuine and not forced. …

Thinking about the tension on this album between distinct geographical spaces and a more universal emotions – for example on “Seneca (Time is a Mother, Baby)” or “Mercy Avenue.” And also that becomes a larger theme of your work, thinking about how Amanda Petrusich writes about your decades-long commitment to writing about rivers. There’s even the river song on this album. What do you think your relationship is to the land, to rivers – especially. when you sing “Depends on the River.” Or is there specifically one river?

On previous Hiss records there are specific geographical places like city names mentioned. And not only are those places part of the fabric of the story that I’m trying to tell, but they sort of served as poles, maybe? What I’m trying to accomplish is sort of like a poetic travelog of my life growing up in America. I’ve been traveling as a musician since I was 18. I have been, it seems like, everywhere in this country – more than once or some places 10 times. I’ve been all over every highway. So, maybe the dimension of place names throughout is sort of like carving my name on a tree or something. It’s just kind of like, “I was here.” “This is where we are in this song right now.” “This is where we are in my life.” And then, “Now we’re over here.”

In terms of rivers, a river is always flowing, always changing. A river can kill you if you’re not careful. It can keep you alive and get you to the next place if you treat it with respect and understand its rules. The coda on that song, [“Depends on the River”], the last thing that we hear on the record is “the line depends on the river exactly.” I guess the meaning depends on what river of life we’re talking about. It depends how lucky we get.

I’ve always been impressed by the wide range of your reading, listening, and looking. For example, your careful thoughts on the photos of Gedney. What are you reading, what are you listening to, what are you looking at these days?

Well, you know what I’m reading right now? I’m like about 200 pages into this Gary Stewart biography. Gary Stewart, the country singer. It’s called I Am From the Honky-Tonks. Gary Stewart actually was someone that Chris Smith from [record label] Paradise of Bachelors turned me onto like 15 to 16 years ago. Those of us that are obsessive about him all knew that this book was coming. It’s finally out and yeah, if you’re Gary Stewart fan, it’s kind of like you can’t believe it exists. I’ve been waiting for it.

In terms of what I’m listening to, I’m always listening to all kinds of stuff. I just bought this record [that’s] The Sun Ra Arkestra doing Disney themes. It’s so beautiful, really makes you think about those compositions in a different way, [about] actually how deep they are. I’ve been revisiting some Ted Lucas. I’ve really been liking this McCoy Tyner record called Asante. It’s a 1974 record; might be my current favorite. It’s very deep in the zone with like Alice Coltrane and Pharoah Sanders – that era. Oh, it’s beautiful. [I’ve been listening to] some Paul Brady from ‘78. He’s amazing! I’ve been listening to Welcome Here Kind Stranger. [Also] a record that I was checking out for a while [was] by the Universal Liberation Orchestra. It’s kind of this weird, very minimal– I guess it would be jazz.

Photo Credit: Graham Tolbert