Tag: rock and roll

Larkin Poe Continue to Bloom

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Megan and Rebecca Lovell are Larkin Poe, a band that nestles into a myriad of genres – and the sisters are good with that. Their newest full-length album effort, Bloom, out January 24, comes fresh off the heels of a GRAMMY win for Best Contemporary Blues Album with last year’s Blood Harmony. They also landed Duo of the Year at 2024’s Americana Honors & Awards, proving that by digging into their own stories, collaborating even when it isn’t easy, and filtering it all through what the music will feel like on stage, they carve a sound that knocks down doors into multiple genre territories.

Independent spirit permeates everything the sisters do, from the way they write and produce the music to how they map out the aesthetics of how they present the work. Bloom is no exception, finding the women delving deeply into personal and social themes in a way they say they have not before, the result of getting real with each other and learning how to collaborate through the writing process.

In “You Are the River,” we find them contemplating a common theme throughout the album, that sometimes the best and the worst are married inextricably and tie us to each other.

The sand in the oyster
The pressure on the coal
The sum of the parts is greater than the whole
A chain of reactions
A butterfly’s wing
My hand holding yours to form another link

For our Artist of the Month interview, BGS spoke with Megan and Rebecca via Zoom from their respective homes in Nashville. The Lovells discuss the challenges and joy of writing together, the evolution of their relationship with their fans, and the pressures of public life in the age of social media.

You all have been lauded in multiple genres, from blues to Americana. You are also identified as a rock and roll band and here we are talking on a bluegrass outlet. What do you think about genres in general, and do you consider them at all during creation of the music?

Rebecca Lovell: One of the greatest pieces of advice that we’ve ever received was from Mr. Elvis Costello. Many, many years ago, he advised us to defy the temptation to put ourselves into a genre box. He has lived up to that creed himself, having made bluegrass, gospel, country, punk, rock records, operatic records, and musical records.

For us, having been able to sample all the different facets of who we are as people and music lovers allows us to connect with the people who are consuming our music. I think increasingly, all of us consume music from a wide range of genres. I do think that that’s one gift of streaming platforms. The very barest of silver lining is that it opens up your mind to the fact that there is great music to be found in every genre, and I think genre-blending is the way of the future.

So we call what we do roots rock and roll, which is intentionally very vague because we get great joy out of letting the many flavors of our musical heritage be represented. That allowed us this past summer to play at a bluegrass festival and then play at a world music festival, play at a pop festival, a rock festival, a country festival, and it keeps it fresh. It keeps it exciting.

You’ve won awards in multiple genres, especially in the past few years. I was curious: are awards ever a motivator for you? Do you ever think about them when you’re creating?

Megan Lovell: Winning awards is a very new thing for us. We’ve always made music with a different focus, because we’ve always felt that the real reward is people being willing to stand in line or travel and buy a ticket and wait at the venue for us to come and play. So that’s always been our focus. Not to say that winning an award isn’t a cool experience, and definitely something we’re super appreciative of, but I don’t think it’s something we consider when we’re writing or recording.

We’re definitely thinking about our live show. We’re really writing intentionally, thinking about how it will feel when we’re touring. Because that’s what we do most of the year is tour.

Tell me about your writing process, both when it’s just you two as sisters, bandmates, and business owners and then also when you bring in other folks to collaborate.

RL: I think Bloom represents a really cool point in our evolution as creative collaborators. Since the ground up, Megan and I have been projecting together since we were little kids. It’s felt like [there was] a lot of foreshadowing in our childhood that we would work together, because we’ve always been so collaborative. But songwriting was one of the last holdouts of our working relationship that there was friction in. I’m sure it has to do with the fact that there is a piece of this sibling rivalry thing. But getting older, being more comfortable with and accepting your flaws, and being able to then have the self-confidence in a writing session to throw out ideas – that inherently, because they are ideas, they’re not fully fledged. They can be misunderstood or sound stupid.

I think we’d had some writing experiences in the past where we had not had the best of times. It just felt like a lot of false starts. We typically had written separately, but something clicked in the last 6 to 8 months leading up to the writing process for Bloom. We made the commitment to and had many conversations about writing the record together, and I really think you can hear the progress that we made as a team in manifesting that true creative collaboration. I think the songs are so much better.

There was a real commitment to being very intentional with everything that we said on this record. Being a songwriter and a performer, there is always this temptation to self-aggrandize, or build a character for yourself, or be the movie theatrical version of who you are and what your life feels like. I specifically have written from that space in the past and listening back, we wanted to do something different this time. That was our consensus. We went through every song, every lyric on this record with a fine-tooth comb, to ensure that real vulnerable authenticity was represented in the lyrics. That took a lot of courage and I am really proud of us for making that commitment, and being able to actually pull it off with this album.

ML: You know, what’s funny is, when we were thinking about bringing in a third collaborator, did we go outside? No, we actually end up working with Rebecca’s husband [Tyler Bryant] a lot. So we have that sibling dynamic and the husband-and-wife dynamic. We really like to complicate things.

RL: There is a certain shorthand that exists when someone knows you really well, when you know someone really well, and especially between Megan and myself – and also Tyler. We all have very closely mirrored musical upbringings and we have a lot of kindred spirit energy in the records that we’re all referencing for the production and the songwriting.

It does create this space, when handled correctly, for being really truthful, being really genuine, and allowing yourself to actually go to those spaces. I was the big crybaby on this record. I was weeping in these co-writes, like inconsolable. But that allows you to really channel some specific, detailed stuff from your own experience. The more specific you’re able to get with yourself, the more likely it is you’re going to be able to connect with other people. And that is our biggest motivator.

That’s so wonderful. Speaking of, what is your relationship with your fans like? And do you see it evolving as you change your process and become more open that way?

ML: We have a lot of musically deep music lovers and they’re really cool, knowledgeable people. I think because we’ve kind of always been a little bit left of center, we’ve attracted a cool audience; people who appreciate the do-it-yourself attitude and people who just really want to support a grassroots effort.

We’ve had people who have been following now for decades, which is strange to be able to say, but they’ve really stuck with it. Of course, those relationships do shift over time. And certainly through the pandemic. That was a huge shift in the way that we related to people, because we were using the internet to connect. We had these pretty spiritual conversations with people that I’m not sure would have happened if we hadn’t been online and talking all of the time. We came out of the pandemic with a lot more intimate fans.

Can you talk about the recording process? Where did you cut this record? How did you decide to bring in your husband as co-producer?

RL: I do think the pandemic played a big role in the shift of Megan and myself bringing Tyler Bryant in as a co-producer because, for the last 10 years, we’ve been self-producing our records. At Megan’s behest as the big sister, she was like, “It’s time. We need to self-produce our records.” That was very scary at first, but we got our feet wet and got our bearings.

Ultimately, we’re so grateful that we made that shift, because it allowed us to hold the reins in the studio and steer the music in the direction that we wanted to go. Through the pandemic, we built a state of the art recording studio in the basement of our home, and we wanted to make records. We didn’t want to hold up our creative process. We were still distancing in our bubble. But it was the group of us, and by necessity we started recording in that home studio; we’re kind of blown away at the sounds we could get. There was an effortless nature of being in a really safe home environment.

When Megan and I tour with our band, we’re a four-piece, so we set up as a four-piece in the studio and went for it. Hopefully, that will allow our records to age gracefully because they are very true and very stripped down to who we are as a band.

ML: But honestly, when we were going to studios, we were experiencing a lot of Keurig machines and we like really nice espresso machines. So we made the decision to stay home.

Let’s talk about the song “Pearls.” It seems to be built around the idea of maintaining a sense of self while you’re navigating the world that’s constantly reflecting you in such a public way. I wanted to know, as family and as bandmates and business partners, how do you navigate the ever-changing and tumultuous world of being in the public eye, especially in the age of social media?

RL: I think it’s one of the hardest things. It is so challenging to exist in a space where you need to have just enough ego to get on stage and perform. But you can’t identify too much with that ego, because then you’re creating a very limited, narrow lane for yourself. But don’t have too big of an ego, because then you’re going to be a bitch and nobody’s gonna like you. So it’s this weird straddling of all these different elements of our identities. And then we’re having to do that together.

With so much shared experience between us, Megan knows the true me. I think that you and I have cultivated a great deal of grace, allowing that true nature to evolve. Who we were when we were 5, is simultaneously the same as who we are now, and also very, very different. Allowing that leeway for ourselves is only something that we’ve started really engaging with in the last 5 years. Right, Megan?

ML: Yeah, we’ve had a lot of conversations over the last couple of years. We are coming to more of an understanding of where the tension was coming from, from who we are as people, and then who we expect ourselves to be on stage. Then also that sort of external pressure that everybody has that we also felt from a very young age from the people around us. There are people in the industry who expect us to be something and then fans who come and meet us. There are a lot of opinions flying around, but you really don’t have to take anything on board that you don’t want to.

Whether it’s that one negative comment on a post that you for some reason have to obsess about, even though there are 99% positive comments. You just can’t get that negative comment out of your head and I don’t even know if I trust that person’s opinion. It’s a good reminder to just steer your own ship.

You mentioned different kinds of festivals, different genres of festivals. When you think about your tour, what kind of stage do you feel the most at home on? Is it a festival? Is it a club or theater? Is it a genre of festival?

ML: 2025 is going to be a big year for touring. Last year we played a lot of festivals. This year we are playing a lot of headline shows and we’re going to start in the U.S. and go through the spring. Then we’re gonna do a big fall European tour. And it’s shaping up to be really, really amazing. We have a really substantial following over in Europe. We have done a lot of work over there. There’s some bucket list venues that we’re gonna play.

I love a headline show. You know, where the place is packed, and there’s that energy in the audience, and everybody knows the lyrics. There’s nothing that beats that vibe and you can find that anywhere. You can find it in a tiny rock club to an arena or a festival. The important thing is that people are engaged from the stage to the audience, and vice versa.

Same for you, Rebecca?

RL: Yeah, I agree. I love a headline date, I think, especially because Megan and I are album people. We like a body of work. I like to sit down and listen to an artist’s album from the beginning to the end to try and get a sense of where they were at when they were writing the record. Megan and I, when we make our records, we obsess about the content, about the story arc, about the sequencing of the record, about the packaging, about the font.

And I think we get that same kind of energy in a headline show because we’re thinking about the colors of lights and which of the songs we are going to include and how much of the old material. We really want to have that space with the music and the emotional content of the music, and you feel that energy, and you feel that resonance. If everything goes right and everyone has their hearts open, you gain access to this portal where I think a lot of transformative change can happen between humans. And that’s what we seek.

Photo courtesy of the artist.

Watch A New Live Video of Tommy Emmanuel Performing “Gdansk” and “Tall Fiddler”

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

In a black ruffled shirt on a brightly colored stage, Tommy Emmanuel sits with his guitar and, like always, amazes the audience with his music. His latest video, “Gdansk/Tall Fiddler (Live at The Sydney Opera House)” is an upbeat and beautiful showcase of his songs that demonstrates the excitement and ease Emmanuel brings to his music. The medley is a single from his forthcoming album, Live at the Sydney Opera House, out March 21.

The clip starts off with a new original, “Gdansk,” named after Gdansk, Poland, where Emmanuel wrote the tune. It’s soft yet energetic, emulating the feeling of calm ocean waves on a sunny day that at the same time brings energy and joy to the music. The peaceful and uplifting melody might make you want to get up and dance.

“Gdansk” then beautifully leads into another tune of Emmanuel’s entitled “Tall Fiddler,” a number off Emmanuel’s 2006 release Endless Road that was inspired by the great fiddler Byron Berline. With fast licks and a rock and roll feel, he effortlessly transitions between a bluegrass fiddle tune and a heavy, rocking vibe.

It’s easy to see the excitement Emmanuel brings to playing and performing. The way he just “goes for it” is utterly inspiring – you can see how the music takes over him as he becomes the vessel that brings it into fruition.

Photo Credit: Alysse Gafkjen

Grateful Dead Drummer Mickey Hart Remembers Tabla Genius Zakir Hussain

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

“I am here. I’m ready to play.”

That, Mickey Hart recalls, is the first thing Zakir Hussain said to him when the young Mumbai-born tabla player, having recently arrived in the U.S., knocked on the door at the Grateful Dead drummer’s Marin County ranch.

“Oh, okay,” Hart says he replied. “Here we go.”

That was 1970 and go they did, forming a deep musical and personal bond that lasted from that day until Hussain’s death from lung disease on Dec. 15 at just age 73. Hart had been studying with Hussain’s father Ustad Alla Rakha, Ravi Shankar’s long-time tabla partner.

“His father said, ‘I can’t play with you because I play the quietest instrument in the world and you play the loudest,’” Hart says, laughing in the den of his ranch house on a recent Zoom chat. “But he said, ‘My son, he could play with you. I will send him to you.’ And so he did.”

And? “It was just magic,” Hart says, beaming with the memories.

Soon Hussain moved into the barn studio facility at Hart’s ranch. And they played. And played.

“We played for four hours one time,” he says, then realizing that was nothing. “We played for four days and nights! Four days and nights! We really got to know each other and played every day. He was the crown prince of tabla, and when his father died he became the king.”

Father and son, in fact, duetted on Hart’s first solo album, Rolling Thunder, released in 1972. Soon other collaborations followed, including the creation of the Diga Rhythm Band, which grew around a multi-cultural percussion ensemble Hussain formed at the Ali Akbar College of Music in Berkeley. The group’s lone 1976 album also featured Hart’s Grateful Dead mate Jerry Garcia on two tracks.

“He loved Jerry, they just loved each other,” Hart says. “Their personalities were very similar. Jerry was really kind, loving, thoughtful, and so was Zakir.”

Hart and Hussain sparked creative energy in each other and an eagerness to explore.

“He taught me various ways rhythms could be used, exposed me to rhythms that I could never imagine, which I took to immediately, and I wanted to learn them,” Hart says. “When we did Diga Rhythm Band together, that was the first time I had to learn composition. He composed half of it and I composed the other half.”

If Hart had to learn new discipline, Hussain had to unlearn some.

“When he came to America he kind of picked up on some American traits, and he liked the looseness of my style,” Hart says, slipping back and forth between talking of Hussain in the present and past tenses with the freshness of this loss. “It freed him from the strictness of Indian classical music. My gig was a little serpentine, you know. His is straight down the pike. As accurate as he could be, it is like a machine. He’s the Einstein of rhythm, so playing with Einstein was really cool. But I didn’t have that sensibility. That’s not the way we did it in the Grateful Dead, right? And he loved that. He really took to it. And that’s what he said I taught him. It was a wonderful combination, a meeting of the minds and a meeting of the hearts.”

The meeting, and the mutual growth and openness to new vistas, continued as Hussain had key roles on Hart’s 1990 album At the Edge, 1991’s Planet Drum (which won the first-ever GRAMMY Award for World Music), 1996’s Mystery Box, 1998’s Supralingua and 2000’s Spirit Into Sound. Each brought together a world-circling community of percussionists on stage as well as in the studio.

With 2007’s Global Drum Project, the Planet Drum ensemble coalesced around a core of Hart, Hussain, Puerto Rican conguero Giovanni Hidalgo and Nigerian talking drum master Sikiru Adepoju, the quartet mounting several dazzling concert tours and coming together again for the 2022 album In the Groove. The joy they brought each other was clear to anyone who saw their shows.

The same spirit sparked much exploration throughout Hussain’s life. Around the same time he was creating Diga, he teamed in Shakti with jazz guitar boundary-breaker John McLaughlin, Indian violinist L. Shankar, and Indian percussionists Ramnad Raghavan and T.H. Vinayakram, rooted in traditional styles but reaching to new territories. Hussain and McLaughlin teamed regularly through the years with several other lineups (at times called Remember Shakti) and a triumphant final Shakti album and tour in 2023.

Hussain also had his own regular tours and recording projects with different ensembles under the name Masters of World Percussion, as well as a 2015 tour leading an East-West ensemble with veteran jazz bassist Dave Holland inspired by the oft-overlooked world of Indo-jazz.

Taking another tack, with Béla Fleck and Edgar Meyer he created a banjo-bass-tabla triple concerto, “The Melody of Rhythm,” crossing lines of progressive bluegrass and both Western and Indian classical as documented on a 2009 album with the Detroit Symphony Orchestra. The three came together again in 2023 for the album At This Moment, which also features Rakesh Chaurasia on the Indian bamboo flute, the bansuri.

Other collaborators, among many, included Yo-Yo Ma, Van Morrison, George Harrison (Hussain played on the 1973 album Living in a Material World), Bill Laswell, and even Earth, Wind & Fire. He also had a long association with saxophonist Charles Lloyd that produced several wonderful albums, including 2022’s Sacred Thread, a trio with guitarist Julian Lage. And, of course, he made countless concert appearances and recordings with the top artists of Indian classical music.

“No one has crossed more borders than him,” Hart says. “Yeah, I’ve crossed a few myself. Not like him. He’s gone beyond me or anybody else I’ve ever met or heard of. He took to the air and went to all these different places, interacted magnificently with all these different cultures. What an incredible ambassador of music.

“And he was very kind when he played with you. He never overplayed, which he could do in an instant. But he was so kind, such a great person that he reserved himself. He never tried to show you up, he was never in competition with me. He was harmonious and rhythmically blissful, in a way. I guess you could call this bliss, bring the bliss word into this.”

Can Hart hear Hussain in some of his own and the Dead’s music?

“Oh God, yes!” he says. “Think of all the Grateful Dead rhythms.”

He cites “Playing in the Band,” for which he wrote the music with Bob Weir, adapting a piece called “The Main Ten,” a version of which appeared on Rolling Thunder.

“That’s 10/4 rhythm,” he says. “Nobody played 10/4 then! And there was ‘Happiness Is Drumming,’ which became ‘Fire on the Mountain.’ That was one we did in Diga. And the 7/4 on ‘Terrapin Station,’ and a lot on Blues for Allah. That was what we were playing in Diga and Phil Lesh picked up on it and everybody picked up on that rhythm and that became ‘King Solomon’s Marbles.’ No one did that in rock ‘n’ roll.

“So Zakir influenced me in so many ways, subtle ways and obvious ways. He was a big influence on the Grateful Dead. And he loved the way Bill [Kreutzman] and I interacted. That became kind of a model for him in some ways because it made it, I don’t know how you’d say it, legal for him in a way. He said, ‘Oh! Now I can do this! This is okay!’ Because only two drummers could do something like that.”

With all that, where would Hart recommend someone wanting to get to know Hussain’s music start? At first he insists that he couldn’t possibly narrow it down.

“I’d rather not,” he says. “Anything he ever played on is a wonder.”

But he gives it a little thought, mentioning several of the cross-cultural albums they made together, before focusing on Venu, a very traditional session he recorded in 1974 featuring Hussain in duet with Indian classical bansuri flute player Harisprasad Chaurasia. This came about when George Harrison’s “Dark Horse” tour, which featured the Indian all-star ensemble Ravi Shankar & Family (including Hussain’s father) as well as Western musicians, did shows in the Bay Area. Harrison and Shankar arranged for a private concert to be held at the historic Stone House, a granite building in Fairfax.

“We brought a bunch of them back to Marin County,” Hart says. “I had just got a 16-track machine from Ampex, threw it in the back of my pickup with a bunch of hay and all that. We went there and did the first 16-track remote recording.”

The music on the album is gripping, two long pieces featuring the venerable Rag Akir Bhairav, a devotional melody meant for the early morning hours, unfolding with grace and power. The first part is largely Chaurasia solo, with Hussain coming in for the second half, the pairing at times delicately rippling, at others building to frenzies, always in perfect, empathic sync.

Hart also cites Sarangi, a second album which he and Hussain co-produced at the same event with Ustad Sultan Khan’s sinewy playing of the bowed instrument that gave the album its title, accompanied by tabla player Shri Rij Ram.

Legacy is a difficult thing to predict. But to Hart, Hussain’s artistic importance is found in the drive the two of them shared to experience all music and cultures and to bring them together.

“He brought together cultures that no one had ever dreamt of, from Egypt with me and [oud player] Hamza El Din, from Nigeria with [drummer] Babatunde Olatunji, with Airto from Brazil. We introduced into the Western world something filled with all these gems and wondrous rhythms. That’s something that will never be forgotten. And all the cultures he touched around the world for all these years. He made quite a difference. There is no place that he’s played that he is not revered.”

It’s talking on a personal level, though, that Hart becomes emotional, effusive, as he reaches back through time to that day Zakir Hussain came to play.

“We just fell in love with each other,” he says. “We really liked each other. He is such a kind man. I don’t know anybody who doesn’t like him. I can’t say that about anybody else, actually.”

He throws his head back and laughs.

“He’s singular in that respect. And it reflected in his music and the way he played with other people.”

Photo Credit: Jay Blakesburg

Dead in December: 9 Bluegrass Covers of Grateful Dead Classics

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

It’s certainly true that the Grateful Dead were never a bluegrass band, starting with the fact that their lineup had not just one drummer, but two. And yet it also can’t be denied that the group’s musical DNA has a wide streak of bluegrass deep within, both in terms of licks and improvisational flair.

In large part, that’s due to the late Jerry Garcia – “Captain Trips” – who started out as a banjo player before finding his most famous calling as the Grateful Dead’s lead guitarist. Before that, Garcia played in folk circles for years, and his many extracurricular collaborators included David Grisman, Peter Rowan, Don Reno, Chubby Wise and other titans of the genre. More than a quarter-century before O Brother, Where Art Thou? took bluegrass to the top of the charts, Garcia’s 1973 side project, Old & In the Way, stood as the top-selling bluegrass album of all time.

Garcia and the Dead’s bluegrass bona fides are solid indeed, as shown by artifacts like the Pickin’ on the Grateful Dead series (not to mention Grass Is Dead, a tribute act). But maybe the strongest testament to the strength of the Dead’s bluegrass-adjacent side is what other artists have made of their catalog. Countless bluegrass musicians have covered Dead songs in ways that would appeal to even the staunchest chair-snapping purists. Here are some of the best.

“Friend of the Devil” – The Travelin’ McCourys (2019)

This rounder’s tale is the granddaddy of ’em all, a bluegrass staple from almost the moment it appeared on the Dead’s 1970 proto-Americana classic, American Beauty. Long a picking-circle staple at festivals, it’s been covered by everybody from Tony Rice to Elvis Costello. But here is a fantastic cover by one of the finest family bands in all of bluegrass, captured onstage at the Grey Fox Bluegrass Festival in 2019. In contrast to the manic pace of the original, this version proceeds at more of an elegant glide. But it’s still got plenty of get-up-and-go, with killer solos over walking bass and a great Ronnie McCoury lead vocal.

“Dire Wolf” – Molly Tuttle (2022)

Among the most acclaimed young artists in bluegrass, Molly Tuttle is a two-time Guitar Player of the Year winner from the International Bluegrass Music Association. She also won IBMA’s Album of the Year trophy for 2022’s Crooked Tree, which included the 1970 Workingman’s Dead standard “Dire Wolf” as a bonus track. Equal parts folk fable and murder ballad, it’s something like “Little Red Riding Hood” with an unhappy ending. And Tuttle’s vocal is even more striking than her guitar-playing.

“Wharf Rat” – Billy Strings (2020)

Possibly even more acclaimed as a guitarist is William “Billy Strings” Apostol, another IBMA Awards fixture (and multiple Entertainer of the Year winner) who is frequently likened to Doc Watson. But few guitarists have ever conjured up Garcia’s sound, spirit, and all-around vibe as effectively as Strings. A song about a lost soul in a seaside town, “Wharf Rat” first came out on the Dead’s eponymous 1971 live album. Strings’ 2020 live version from the Capitol Theatre in Port Chester, New York, is amazing, as Strings doesn’t sing it so much as inhabit it. The money shot is his guitar solo that begins just after the five-minute mark.

“Scarlet Begonias” – The Infamous Stringdusters (2020)

Gambling is one of the Dead’s recurrent tropes and “Scarlet Begonias” gives it a playful spin with a loping guitar riff. The original dates back to 1974’s From the Mars Hotel and it’s been widely covered in oddball styles by the likes of electronic duo Thievery Corporation and the ska band Sublime. But “Scarlet Begonias” has never had it so well as in this excellent bluegrass version by The Infamous Stringdusters, shot onstage at Seattle’s Showbox just ahead of the pandemic in early 2020.

“Ripple” – Dale Ann Bradley (2019)

More often than not, vocals tended to be the Dead’s weak link. But that is not a problem for Kentucky Music Hall of Famer and five-time IBMA Female Vocalist of the Year Dale Ann Bradley. The elegiac “Ripple” began life as the B-side to the “Truckin’” single and was also a show-stopper on the Dead’s 1981 acoustic live album, Reckoning. Bradley covered it on her 2019 LP, The Hard Way, with Tina Adair providing truly lovely vocal harmonies.

“Uncle John’s Band” – Fireside Collective (2022)

One of the Dead’s folksiest numbers, “Uncle John’s Band” kicked off Workingman’s Dead at an easy-going amble – a clear departure from the psychedelic excursions of the Dead’s earliest work. This live version by the young Asheville, North Carolina, band Fireside Collective reimagines “Uncle John’s Band” as sprawling jam-band fodder.

“Cassidy” – Greensky Bluegrass (2007)

“Cassidy” first appeared on-record as a Bob Weir solo tune on his 1972 side-project album, Ace, but it’s been on multiple Dead live albums over the years. It’s always been something of an enigma, inspired by a young girl as well as Neal Cassady. Michigan jamgrass ensemble Greensky Bluegrass gets to its beat-poet heart on this version from 2007’s Live at Bell’s.

“Tennessee Jed” – Front Country (2018)

A frequent theme for the Dead was being in motion, whether traveling toward something or running away from it. So it follows that homesickness would be an aspect of their music, perhaps most overtly on this wistful song from the double-live LP, Europe ’72. California’s Front Country put “Tennessee Jed” through its paces in this 2018 version from their “Kitchen Covers” series.

“Touch of Grey” – Love Canon (2014)

If the Dead wasn’t a bluegrass band, they most definitely weren’t a pop band, either. But the group had occasional brushes with the Hot 100, most famously with the 1970 statement of purpose “Truckin’” and its “what a long strange trip it’s been” tagline (even though the group had only been together about five years by then). “Truckin’” stalled out at No. 64 and was later eclipsed by its 1987 sequel “Touch of Grey” – an actual Top 10 hit with its bittersweet conclusion, “We will get by, we will survive.”

From Charlottesville, Virginia, Love Canon strips away the ’80s pop keyboards and covers the song well as straight-up bluegrass on 2014’s “Dead Covers Project.”

Photo Credit: Old & In the Way, courtesy of Acoustic Disc.

BGS Wraps: It’s the Rootsiest Time of the Year

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Each year, the BGS Team likes to “wrap up” the year in music by featuring holiday, seasonal, and festive tunes and songs throughout the month of December. It’s a perfect way to generate holiday cheer while shining a light on some of the high quality new – and timeless! – seasonal music we’ve got playing on repeat each winter. And, it gives us the chance to infuse our veteran/stalwart holiday playlists with some new life, too.

This year, we’ll be sharing songs, albums, shows, and events each day for the first three weeks of December, a musical bridge to bring us to the peak holiday season, the end of one year, and the beginning of another. Check back each day as we add more selections to these weekly posts, highlighting roots music that will soundtrack our solstice, Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, and New Year.

What are you listening to this time of year? Let us know on social media! You can scroll to find our complete BGS Wraps playlist for 2024 below. Check out Week 1 of BGS Wraps here and Week 3 of BGS Wraps here.

Megan Moroney, “All I Want For Christmas Is a Cowboy”

Artist: Megan Moroney
Song: “All I Want for Christmas is a Cowboy”
Album: Blue Christmas …duh (EP)
Release Date: November 1, 2024

In Their Words: “Well since it comes out tonight, I guess now would be a good time to let y’all know I recorded a lil 3 song holiday EP that features 2 original songs & a cover of a classic. It’s called Blue Christmas …duh.

sleigh, I guess.” – Megan Moroney, via social media

From The Editor: “Megan Moroney was everywhere in 2024 – and we certainly didn’t mind! Three CMA Awards nominations, her sophomore album, Am I Okay?, reached No. 9 on Billboard‘s Hot 200 chart, she’s MusicRow‘s Breakout Artist of the Year, and so much more. Plus, she released this excellent holiday EP, Blue Christmas …duh, in November featuring two new originals and her rendition of the classic made popular by Elvis. We adore Moroney’s brand of high-end, sequin-studded, mainstream country. Catch her and her music on the Am I Okay? Tour in 2025!”

Spencer Hatcher & Aubrie Sellers, “Mr. and Mrs. Santa Claus”

Artist: Spencer Hatcher & Aubrie Sellers
Song: “Mr. and Mrs. Santa Claus”
Release Date: November 1, 2024

In Their Words: “‘Oh, yeah, you bet. Uh… ho ho ho and stuff’ 🎄 ‘Mr. and Mrs. Santa Claus’ is out now!!” – Spencer Hatcher & Aubrie Sellers, via social media

From The Editor: “Decked out in their holiday best and performing in front of a classic Airstream trailer, bluegrass influencer Spencer Hatcher and garage country artist Aubrie Sellers play the mother and father of Christmas for their new single, ‘Mr. and Mrs. Claus.’ Throwing it back to the ’70s in more ways than one, their rendition pays tribute to George and Tammy’s cut of the song released in 1973. It combines so many things we love about bluegrass, country, and roots music – from the steel guitar and tasty harmonies to the retro trimmings and honky-tonkin’ tempo. We’re even here for the iconic knotty pine wood paneling! Perfect for BGS Wraps.”

Sierra Hull, “The First Snowfall”

Artist: Sierra Hull
Song: “The First Snowfall”
Release Date: November 8, 2024

In Their Words: “‘The First Snowfall’ is the B side from my upcoming limited edition 7” vinyl release, Holiday Favorites V1  … Can anyone guess which classic artist I discovered this song from?” – Sierra Hull, via social media

From The Editor: “Every seasonal playlist deserves a selection of songs about the season, as well as the festive holidays we celebrate during it. So we were especially excited to hear impeccable mandolinist Sierra Hull’s rendition of this Bing Crosby classic, ‘The First Snowfall,’ when it dropped last month. With a newgrass groove that skips and hops along, Hull and her crack band bring a modern glitz to the number. Don’t miss the A side of her special holiday single release, too – it’s ‘Country Christmas’ pulled from the catalog of one of Hull’s heroes, Loretta Lynn. Bluegrass winter leads to bluegrass Christmas, and we wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Blind Boys of Alabama & Jay Buchanan, “I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day”

Artist: Blind Boys of Alabama & Jay Buchanan
Song: “I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day”
Release Date: November 29, 2024

In Their Words: “Get in the holiday & shopping spirit with ‘I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day.’ Produced and arranged by Hall & Oates Music Director Shane Theriot, we sing it alongside rocker Jay Buchanan of Rival Sons.” – Blind Boys of Alabama, via social media

From The Editor: “Every holiday needs soul. Who better to provide a bit of a Christmas slow burn – besides a yule log – than the Blind Boys of Alabama with Rival Sons’ Jay Buchanan? ‘I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day’ has limitless pocket and a funky, slow dance groove. A brand new addition to our Non-Crappy Christmas Songs playlist? Most certainly! This rockin’, soulful, Americana-steeped rendition of a holiday classic is just too good.”

William Prince, “The Sound of Christmas”

Artist: William Prince
Album: The Sound of Christmas (EP)
Release Date: October 18, 2024

In Their Words: “Produced by the wonderful Boy Golden, featuring the talents of Alyshia Grace, FONTINE, Cody Iwasiuk, John Baron, Stephen Arundell, Keiran Placatka, Matt Kelly, Kris Ulrich, Austin Parachoniak, Kaitlyn Raitz, Ben Plotnick, and with beautiful artwork from Roberta Landreth, these songs were a treat to put together for you and I hope you enjoy them as much as we enjoyed making them. … Happy early holidays, folks.” – William Prince, via social media

From The Editor: “Christmas arrived right on time – in mid-October – via this delicious three-song EP from First Nations country singer-songwriter William Prince. We’ve covered Prince quite a bit over the years, relishing the plains patina and down-to-earth quality of his albums and songs. The Sound of Christmas is a bit more polished, shiny, and draped in tinsel (especially the primed-for-Times-Square title track), but the other tracks on the project, ‘Silver Bells’ and ‘Don’t Go Leaving Me (It’s Christmas Eve),’ still display plenty of that signature grit and duality. Here’s a sound direct from (what we now call) rural Canada that’s also very much ready for the mainstream.

“Something else we love about The Sound of Christmas: Prince is selling 1000-piece jigsaw puzzles of the festive, holiday village cover artwork for the EP. Adding it to our holiday gift list now!”

Artist of the Month: Dead in December

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

(Editor’s Note: This December, we continue our annual series – see also: Dolly in December, Dawg in December, Dylan in December, and Del in December – by celebrating the iconic, trailblazing jam band, the Grateful Dead, all month long! We’ll be featuring the Grateful Dead as our Artist of the Month, celebrating their enormous impact on bluegrass and roots music over the next few weeks.

To kick off our coverage, BGS contributor Garret Woodward pens a heartfelt and personal AOTM reveal. Plus, don’t miss our exhaustive Essential Grateful Dead Playlist below.)

The single most profound moment within my 39 years of existence (thus far) is the first time I heard the Grateful Dead. Not far behind that life-altering experience were my initial encounter with LSD (in high school) and finally cracking open Jack Kerouac’s seminal 1957 novel, On the Road (in college).

Summer 1994. I was nine years old and living a simple, yet happily mischievous childhood in the small North Country community of Rouses Point, New York. One mile from the Canadian Border. One mile from the state line of Vermont. Solitude. Desolation. Rural America. Mornings spent building tree forts and wandering vast cornfields surrounding my childhood home. Afternoons jumping off the dock into nearby Lake Champlain.

Even at that time, I was a bona fide music freak. Whether it was Top 40 radio (Gin Blossoms, Melissa Etheridge, Collective Soul, Sheryl Crow) blasting out of the small boom box in my bedroom or whatever my parents shoved into the cassette deck in the family minivan (Willie Nelson, Beatles, Rolling Stones, Nat King Cole, George Jones), I was in search of “the sound.”

But, everything in my existence changed one evening that summer at a family cookout at our camp on the lake. Sitting at the picnic table — chowing down on some burgers, beans and potato salad — I noticed a hat my aunt’s boyfriend was wearing. The logo on the front was of a dancing bear, with the back featuring a skull with a lightning bolt. I inquired.

“It’s the Grateful Dead,” he replied with a Cheshire Cat grin emerging from a bushy beard. “Have you ever listened to the Dead, man?” No, I replied. After dinner, he walked me over to his early 1990s Volkswagen Jetta. He hopped in, rolled the windows down and turned on the stereo. Again, with a grin, as if he knew what was going to happen once he pressed play and cranked the volume.

It was the Skeletons from the Closet album. The opening tune, “The Golden Road (To Unlimited Devotion),” hit me like an undulating series of waves in some endless ocean of melodic tones and lyrical truths. It was just like when Dorothy Gale entered the world of color in The Wizard of Oz.

Nothing really was ever the same after that moment. It was not only the first music I’d discovered on my own – without the radio or my parents’ influence – the Dead, for some unexplained reason at the time, immediately became “my band.” Something clicked deeply inside of me. I awoke. And I had arrived.

Soon, a seismic shift occurred in my adolescent life. I wore Dead shirts to my Catholic elementary school to the dismay of the nuns. Tacked up Jerry Garcia posters on my bedroom wall. The swirling sensation of “Sugar Magnolia” or “St. Stephen” echoing from the boom-box. Incense burning on the windowsill overlooking the cornfields and unknown horizon of my intent. I even had a small shrine to Jerry on my bookshelf for several years after he died. I was all-in.

Musically, the Dead were a bunch of incredibly talented bluegrass, folk, and jazz freaks, who were inspired by the onslaught of the Beatles to plug in and go electric. The band itself was this massive sponge, one which soaked in any and all influences it crossed paths with — either onstage or merely wandering down the road of life. That authentic sense of curiosity and discovery is key to the Dead’s magic throughout its decades of improvisational splendor.

At its core, the Dead’s message resonated within my often-bullied and ignored self as a kid. If you like the Dead, you’ll always find a friend out there in the universe to connect with. The band’s symbols are beacons of love, compassion, and acceptance once you walk out the front door. In essence, I’d found my tribe, this wild-‘n’-wondrous ensemble of loving oddballs, eccentric weirdos, and all-around jovial folk. My kind of people, who remain so to this day.

The Dead is about personal freedom. To not only be yourself, but to also seek out the intrinsic beauty of people, places and things in this big ol’ world of ours. Have adventures. Pursue wisdom. Radiate love. Be kind. Damnit, be kind. All of these things offered from the music and its followers were placed in my emotional and spiritual toolbox as I began to wander the planet on my own following high school, college and impending adulthood.

And here I stand. Age 39. That nine-year-old discovering the Dead is still inside of me somewhere, still burning incense and blasting “St. Stephen.” That youngster’s excitement for all things music (especially live), endless curiosity for what lies just around the corner, and running with a reckless abandon towards the unknowns of tomorrow are as strong and vibrant as ever — especially through this ongoing catalyst that is my career in the written word.

Case in point, I recently headed to the Bluegrass Music Hall of Fame & Museum in Owensboro, Kentucky, for another celebratory weekend for its current exhibit: “Jerry Garcia: A Bluegrass Journey,” on assignment and on the ground covering the festivities. An incredibly curated collection of rare Garcia artifacts and wisdom, the showcase will run onsite until next spring.

Before the inception of the Grateful Dead, Garcia was completely immersed in the bluegrass and folk scenes in the San Francisco Bay area in the late 1950s and early 1960s. He was part of numerous acoustic acts and ensembles throughout the bountiful period — the culmination of that vast knowledge and in-depth experience being poured into the Dead’s formation in 1965.

To note, there’s a lot to be said about Garcia’s talents on the banjo being applied to what would become his signature tone on the electric guitar. And to that notion, add in the sheer lyrical aptitude of Robert Hunter, who not only penned many of the Dead’s iconic melodies, but was also on a parallel journey to Garcia’s early on and throughout the band’s 30-year trajectory.

And there I was in Owensboro, some 400 miles from my current home in Western North Carolina. Traveling for hours just to arrive on the mighty Ohio River – the state line of Kentucky and Indiana, this crossroads of the Southeast and Midwest. And for what? To push further and farther down the cosmic rabbit hole that is Jerry Garcia, the Grateful Dead, and those who follow.

The next 48 hours were a whirlwind of sound and scope. Seemingly endless tribute sets to Garcia and the Dead at the Woodward Theater inside the museum from the Kitchen Dwellers, Lindsay Lou, Fireside Collective, and members of the Infamous Stringdusters to late-night jam sessions in hotel rooms next door.

The Grateful Dead are arguably the only musical entity to exist that – regardless of who or what genre is being represented – once one of their tunes is placed into a performance, folks either show up in droves or are already present with ears perked up to what’s radiating out from the stage. It’s a fact that no matter what style of music you play, if it involves the Dead in some form or fashion, Deadheads are game to check it out. You could be a polka group and we’ll be right there, standing front row, the second you roll into “Althea” or “Shakedown Street.” The music provides, always and forever.

Before I left Owensboro and the Garcia celebration at the museum, I found myself on a bourbon distillery tour on Saturday afternoon. I walked into the enormous facility and checked in with the host. All by myself and waiting for the tour to start, the host tapped me on the shoulder.

“You like the Dead?” his face lit up, pointing to the Dead stealie tattoo on the back of my right leg. “Sure do, my brother,” I shot back with a smile of solidarity. We talked about our favorite live Dead recordings and where we’ve caught Dead & Company in concert recently, kindred spirits now eternally connected by this band of roving musical pirates. It’s a genuine interaction that happens often to Deadheads and something I don’t ever take for granted.

Even as we stand in this uncertain time in American history – where nothing is the same, everything is the same – the Grateful Dead remain this portal to escape, to purposely choose compassion, camaraderie, and community. It’s about cultivation of one’s self and of the sheer magnitude and gratitude of daily life, so long as you stroll this earth with the pure and honest intent to connect, to listen, and to understand.

“I will get by, I will survive.”

 

Travis Book Happy Hour: Caitlin Krisko

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

I had heard of Caitlin Krisko, but I’d never really heard her until she took over the stage at the Floydfest Buffalo Jam a few years ago. I’d finished up my part of the show and had headed out into the crowd to unwind and watch the proceedings. Every time Caitlin stepped up to the mic the ensemble struggled to match her soul and intensity. It wasn’t even fair, really. She owned that show that night and she owned the interview and music during the Happy Hour, too. It was Caitlin’s show, Aaron and Tommy and I were just along for the ride!

LISTEN: APPLE • SPOTIFY • STITCHER • AMAZON • MP3

This episode was recorded live at 185 King St in Brevard, NC on August 13th, 2024.

This episode is brought to you by Thompson Guitars and is presented by Americana Vibes and BGS as part of the BGS Podcast Network.

Photo Credit: Aaron Austin

Editor’s Note: The Travis Book Happy Hour is hosted by Travis Book of the GRAMMY Award-winning band, The Infamous Stringdusters. The show’s focus is musical collaboration and conversation around matters of being. The podcast includes highlights from Travis’s interviews and music from each live show recorded in Brevard, North Carolina.

The Travis Book Happy Hour is brought to you by Thompson Guitars and is presented by Americana Vibes and The Bluegrass Situation as part of the BGS Podcast Network. You can find the Travis Book Happy Hour on Instagram and Facebook and online at thetravisbookhappyhour.com.

Artist of the Month: Billy Strings

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

We’ve been covering our friend, GRAMMY Award winner and physics-defying flatpicker Billy Strings for now almost ten years. In that relatively short period of time, he and his band have revolutionized the bluegrass, jamgrass, and acoustic guitar scenes. Way back in 2014 and 2015, when the local Michigan guitarist with generational talent first started appearing on our site and in our Sitch Sessions, and making his mark on the national bluegrass scene, almost no one would have predicted he would be selling out arenas less than a decade later. And yet– there were always signs.

Indeed, BGS’ first viral content was a Sitch Session performance by Strings and former duo partner Don Julin, performing what would eventually become a “hit” for Billy, “Meet Me at the Creek.” The video spread like wildfire on BGS, Facebook, YouTube, Reddit, and beyond – rapidly garnering more than a million views. It was just one of the many early inflection points that would occur over Strings’ stratospheric rise.

Strings’ jaw-dropping picking, gritty and heartfelt vocals, mystifying jams, and virtuosic, tradition-steeped aggression are all at once charming and hypnotizing. Given a platform, of any size or reach in his early career, his performances, songs, and live shows were an unstoppable force. Audience members and fans could hardly look away.

His personal narrative, of hardship and bootstraps and holding onto a childhood dream of playing bluegrass for a living, of road-dogging and paying dues and “god-given” talent, bolstered his trad bona fides when his metal and rock background, long hair, and drug-infused stories might have undercut his appeal to bluegrass and old-time audiences. Strings was – and is – obviously, a real human being; despite what supernatural touches are evident in his music, here is a guitar hero embodied. And, for hundreds of thousands of roots music fans, diehard and uninitiated, that brand has been limitlessly resonant and relatable. Plus… there’s that picking!

It’s no wonder, merely four solo studio albums into his career, Strings has gone from touring 250+ days a year at every mom-and-pop bluegrass festival, rock club, coffee shop, and barbeque restaurant in the U.S. and Canada to selling out enormous arenas, auditoriums, and amphitheaters for multi-night runs all around the world. Billy Strings, as an artist, a brand, and an individual, was always made to go the distance.

His newest album, Highway Prayers, which released September 27 on Reprise Records, finds Billy and band putting even more miles under their well-worn, veteran tires. A long form, 20-track album, the project includes breakneck instrumentals, many a live show and fan favorite, and plenty of that Billy Strings magic that only he and his cohort could bring to such a record. But, despite the fact that Billy has guested on dozens of projects as a track feature in the past few years – from Post Malone to Zach Top to Sierra Ferrell to Willie Nelson to Luke Combs to Ringo Starr – Highway Prayers has not a single credited celebrity feature.

Which brings us to a point that, forest for the trees style, seems to go missing from considerations of Billy Strings, his music, and his impact. Yes, Strings is defining and redefining bluegrass in the modern era and in the 2000s. Yes, Strings is perhaps the most important bluegrass artist of his generation, if not of all time. Yes, Strings has illustrated there truly is no ceiling for bluegrass music, commercially and otherwise. And yes, he and his band are revolutionizing the very landscape on which this music is built, offered, and examined.

Still, as Highway Prayers – as well as his live shows and his entire discography – demonstrates, the most innovative and revolutionary aspects of Billy Strings and his version of bluegrass are not what he’s changed, but what has stayed the same.

Even Alison Krauss & Union Station at their very peak were only performing true bluegrass for a portion of their live shows. The Chicks, for all of their international touring and arena sell-out shows, would often only have four or five string band songs set aside in a special mini-set during their performances. Billy Strings and his band are not only raising the bar for bluegrass and its marketability and sale-ability in an era where nearly all music businesses are floundering and struggling, they’re doing it all as a simple, five-piece bluegrass band across the front of the stage.

Sure, there are pedal boards and LED screens and smoke machines and delay, and WAH, and distortion – plenty of “no part of nothin'” moments, of course. But at the beginning and end of the day, whether touring in a Ford Econoline or with dozens of road crew and buses and tractor trailers, Billy Strings is a bluegrass musician, playing bluegrass songs, birthing thousands of new bluegrass fans, and doing all of it at the largest scale we’ve ever seen as a community and as an industry.

There’s much (well-deserved) noise to be made about all of the strange and unique ways Strings and his team have accomplished this, but even more noise ought to be generated. For the most remarkable impact of Billy Strings is that he’s shown everyone, all across the globe, that bluegrass doesn’t need to fundamentally change to be something everybody can love.

All month long, we’ll once again be celebrating Billy Strings as our Artist of the Month. Enjoy our revamped Essential Billy Strings Playlist below, check out our exclusive interview with Billy here, explore our list of favorite songs and recordings – by other artists – featuring Billy here, and stay tuned on BGS and on social media as we dip back into the archives for all things Billy Strings.

Photo Credit: Dana Trippe

Basic Folk: Kasey Anderson

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

We’re starting with the end in our conversation with Kasey Anderson. On Basic Folk we’ve covered a lot of firsts: debut albums, origin stories, and the beginnings. Ever since I have known Kasey, his social media bio has been, “Gradually retiring songwriter.” I’m always teasing him about “What does that mean? When are you going to retire?” Officially, this latest album, To the Places We Lived, is his “last album.” I want to put that in very heavy quotes, because I hate to imagine a world where a great songwriter friend of mine is not making records. I think his insistence on this album as the last one has more to do with saying goodbye to parts of the music industry that he wants to release and ways of being in the world that he doesn’t want to engage with anymore. What do we need to let go of? What do we need to release? That’s the place where this album begins.

LISTEN: APPLE • SPOTIFY • AMAZON • MP3

In our conversation, we talk about Kasey’s whole songwriting career and the moment where he went surprise viral for one of his political songs, “The Dangerous Ones.” We talk about his time being incarcerated and what that taught him about himself, what it taught him about the world, what it taught him about white supremacy. We talk about his family. We talk about his sobriety and his work in helping others get clean and stay clean, and what staying clean means in a holistic and gentle sense.

The songs on this album are mournful, literate, and very, very fun. My favorite is “Back to Nashville;” it’s a rock and blues song. Kasey is the type of artist who can write a really contemplative song about self reflection or grief or loss, and then a blues rocker that makes you want to shake your ass the next second.

Photo Credit: Matthew Leonetti

Tim Heidecker on the Battle of Life and Everything ‘Slipping Away’

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Sitting in a Nashville hotel room one recent morning, Tim Heidecker is awaiting his Americanafest showcase. It’ll take place later that evening at 3rd & Lindsley. And Heidecker’s dreading the gig. Not because he doesn’t enjoy the act of performance. It’s simply the format in which the show will be set up: solo.

“It’s not my preferred way of presenting my songs,” Heidecker says. “I just came off the road with my band. Playing every night for two weeks. I’m a little road tested and warmed up. But, these songs benefit from other people playing them with me.”

That sense of vulnerability and, perhaps, a slight fear of what may or may not lie just around the corner of the grandiose ether surrounding all of us are core themes at the heart of Heidecker’s latest album, Slipping Away.

Though many may know Heidecker for his comedic brilliance – as part of innovative comedy duo Tim & Eric, on an array of beloved TV shows or across the big screen in major Hollywood films – he’s also been a lifelong singer-songwriter. And a damn fine one, too.

Now 48, Heidecker offers Slipping Away (available October 18 via Bloodshot Records) as a genuine snapshot of a human being wrestling with middle age and the intricacies of daily life. Just like many of us in the same boat of age and awareness.

Sonically, Slipping Away straddles psychedelic alt-country, surf rock, and indie folk. The ethereal attitude and lyrical ethos flows in the same river as Pavement and Wilco, with hints of Guided By Voices and They Might Be Giants felt throughout.

In an era of doom and gloom, Heidecker’s humor and zest are much needed – the notion that sometimes all you can do is laugh in pure amazement at the absurdity of what’s outside your front door.

“They say that Jesus Christ is coming back some day/ But if I were him, I think I would stay,” Heidecker sings during “Bows and Arrows.” “Up in the clouds, hanging out with dad/ Cuz things down here, things are going bad.”

In truth, much like his comedy, Tim Heidecker’s music is aimed at the idea of connectivity. Finding common ground with you and me. And his constant yearning to expose the lunacy and mysteries of one’s existence within the cosmic universe is why we’ve come to turn to Heidecker for comfort and solidarity in uncertain times.

I replayed the album this morning while having coffee with my girlfriend. And, in a good way, I started having existential thoughts. It made me think, “This is an honest snapshot of someone on the cusp of 50, who’s looking at the chaos of their youth in the rearview mirror and looking at the unknowns of growing older through the windshield.”

Tim Heidecker: That’s beautifully put. Can I use that? [Laughs] I mean, yes, I agree with that. It’s funny, you writers, critics and journalists are always better at vocalizing what I’m trying to say than I am. And I appreciate it. These things come from such a subliminal place for me that it’s nice to hear how it’s received or how it’s perceived. A lot of the writing of this record came right after the pandemic. There was this real, palpable feeling of an apocalyptic kind of mentality happening.

It still feels like that every day, though. That’s the world we live in now.

Yeah, for sure. And it was very crisp in 2020, 2021, 2022. In my comedy, I’ve tried a few different times to write shows about that. I’ve had a couple of projects that didn’t go very far, that were sort of about the end of the world. So, it’s been on my mind for a while and I wanted to do a record with that sort of concept or theme. And I started writing songs, letting the record be this way of getting those ideas out of my head.

With the title, Slipping Away, is that a reference to how fast time goes?

Picking the title of a record is always a pain and challenge to crystallize it. But, to me, there’s two meanings. The first half of the record is maybe a little more upbeat and positive and there’s this feeling of being content or being happy. Then, it can also mean things falling apart and disintegrating [in the second half]. There’s Slipping Away Side A and there’s Slipping Away Side B.

There’s also a very ethereal vibe to the album, too, where it’s like a dreamlike state.

Mm-Hmm.

With the song “Hey, Would You Call My Mom for Me,” was that a real encounter you had with somebody?

It was. We were on tour up in Vancouver. They have a big area of Vancouver that’s kind of been surrendered to addicts. They call it “Zombie Town.” I was walking around there and a kid asked me that. It was early in the morning and it took me off guard. I gave him 20 bucks and was like, “Sorry, I can’t.” I just couldn’t get involved. But, I came back to that line of, “Hey, would you call my mom for me?” Especially after the pandemic and living in Los Angeles, seeing a lot of people on the street. I felt like I wanted to capture that moment. Little journalistic songwriting there.

I’ve read that you’re an atheist/agnostic. And I wonder – with the pandemic and just life in general – if you’ve started to have maybe a crisis of faith or identity as you’ve gotten older?

I wouldn’t say crisis.

Recalibration, maybe?

Recalibration is fair. Honestly, I’m fairly firm in my agnosticism. I wouldn’t consider myself an atheist. I think it’s kind of an irrelevant question for me [about] what’s going on outside of reality. But, I’ve started therapy and working on some personal issues, health issues and stuff this past year. I don’t want to say midlife crisis. But, it’s this feeling of like, “Alright, I’ve been kind of coasting on my instincts for a long time. And it’s gotten me to where I am, which is a pretty good place. But, I’d like to figure out how I’m going to spend the rest of my life here – maybe a little happier, a little less anxiety-ridden, easier to be around.”

It’s been a couple years of taking the old car into the shop and getting it adjusted for long-term use. I mean, I’ve been touring with this band for the past couple years. And part of me is like, “Man, love this so much. How many more of these am I going to get to do? How many more of these runs where you’re just on the bus and you’re playing every night?” It takes a lot of work to get to that place where things are going well.

There’s the line on the record – I think it may be my favorite line on the record – [in the song “Something, Somewhere”] that goes, “There is a feeling I get, when things are going good but it’s coming to an end.” You’re at that place where things are working, something you’re working on or a project where you see the end. It’s that end of summer melancholy feeling. And I think you can zoom out and look at your life a little bit that way, too.

I couldn’t find much about your early music years. And I was curious about where music begins for you, and as somebody like yourself who came of age in early 1990s Pennsylvania. Was music just something that was always there?

Yeah. I came from a very musical family. My grandmother was very religious. She could play piano and she could play by ear. So, she could sit at the piano and figure out songs. My mom loved music and my dad was a big classic rock guy. He had a great record collection, then he updated his record collection to tapes as we were driving around in the ’80s. He would play the golden oldies and the best of the Beatles, [those] red and blue compilation [albums] a lot. I was always very performance driven, dressing up and doing shows and playing from as far back as I can remember. We had a piano in the house, and eventually a guitar came around. It was just something my parents really encouraged, I guess. My sister took piano lessons. It was just part of our education. I went to Catholic school, so there was a lot of singing. Just a lot of music around all the time.

Eventually, that led to bands being formed. My cousin had a hardcore punk band. And I gravitated towards those kinds of people who were also into music. I had an uncle who had really great taste in music and turned me on to all kinds of artists in the ’80s and ’90s [like] Billy Bragg. I remember him being a big fan of [Billy]. And it was fairly easy to put a band together. We all wanted to be on TV or make movies or create stuff. But, the band was the thing that you could put together after a good Christmas of getting a practice amp and a starter guitar. Your friend has a drum set and you could go into a basement and make something. We used to rent four-track tape recorders from the music store and make demos.

I hear a lot of influences on Slipping Away – indie rock, folk, alt-country. I hear a lot of stuff, too, that I grew up in the ’90s loving. I hear some Pavement influences. With Pavement, they always came across as a band where you could do whatever you wanted, and a song can be whatever you want it to be – something I always loved about them.

I loved Pavement. In fact, they’re a really important band for me, because when I was in high school my head was really firmly in the classic rock ’60s and ’70s world. I didn’t really connect to anything modern. I didn’t like pop punk music. I mean, it was okay. But, I didn’t really like the hardcore scene, the emo scene. I found it really boring and exhausting to listen to, and I couldn’t hear what they were saying. I didn’t like a lot of hip-hop. Whatever was happening in the early ’90s, I was not connecting with it.

And then I heard [Pavement’s] Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain record. I remember hearing the drumstick in [opening track] “Silence Kid.” And I was really into Exile on Main St. by The Rolling Stones, so it was a connection, a through line from the Stones to Pavement, where it felt like, “Oh, these guys are happening now.” That opened me up to Guided By Voices, The Jon Spencer Blues Explosion, Yo La Tengo, and that Matador Records scene. I was like, “Oh, I am of my age now. I’m of my time.” [Laughs]

When you’re touring, is it weird people may have preconceived notions of what to expect and expectations that aren’t accurate?

Yeah. I mean, that’s diminishing a little bit now. I think people are getting the message. There’s still people that are confused. They’re waiting for the punchline to drop. It took me a while to figure out how to behave as a performer when I’m doing my music. I’ve found this little sweet spot, where I can still be funny and I can still be myself. I don’t have to pretend to be this pretentious singer-songwriter, because I’m not. I’m just me. I don’t want to keep it too serious, so I lighten the mood enough where people get a little bit of both – they get the full picture, they get the full version of me.

One of the songs on Slipping Away is “Dad of the Year,” where you sing about how you had all these expectations growing up and conquering the world, as we all do. And now you’re in your late forties and you’re like, “Well, that didn’t really happen. But, in this other way, I’m actually really happy with where I landed.”

For sure. The goal is to get to that place where you’re content and satisfied with wherever you are. And in the way the world is, it’s very hard to not compare yourself to everything else that’s going on, to people you don’t know. Why do people care about Ben Affleck and J. Lo? [Laughs] When I see a picture of them, there’s this intrusive thought of, “Why aren’t they taking pictures of me?” And if you really are honest, I think everybody has varying degrees of that. And that’s the battle of life – to find ways of knowing how to be happy with where you’re at. But, don’t squash ambition, because ambition is very important, too.

To that, it does feel like you’re in a good place right now.

I’m in a great place. I’m in Nashville. I’m excited for the record to come out. I hope people sit with it. Some records you just need to sit down and listen to. I mean, Slipping Away is only 30 minutes. [Laughs] This isn’t coffee shop music.

Photo Credit: Chantal Anderson