Bob Hillman had a real thing going on in the early 2000s. He had made waves in New York City, rubbing shoulders with some of the finest songwriters of the era at places like Fast Folk and The Living Room. The singer-songwriter was creatively fulfilled, but not gaining the momentum needed to experience strategic growth in folk music. After opening a long list of dates for Suzanne Vega, Hillman decided it was time to step away and get back to business… school that is. He got his MBA in marketing and went on to hold a decent paying job for the next decade and a half, raising his family in the Bay Area.
After a layoff, Bob thought it was time to dig in again and started writing, recording, and performing. Since 2016, he’s released a couple of albums and an EP or two. The most recent is the mostly acoustic Downtown in the Rain. In our conversation, we talk about what it’s like to reignite his creative entrepreneurial musical spirit, how he used that energy in his corporate jobs, and also how he hopes to one day meet his singing partner on the EP, Maria Taylor.
This week, it feels a bit like musical spring has sprung, and new music is truly blossoming in our current edition of You Gotta Hear This – our once-weekly premiere round-up.
Below, you’ll find a new live performance video from the Bacon Brothers (Kevin Bacon and his brother, Michael), plus singer-songwriter Rachel Maxann has brought us a new track and video, “The Tides.” You’ll also enjoy songs from bluegrasser Darren Nicholson, southern rocker JD Clayton, a bespoke line dance from Buckstein, Rosy Nolan, string band Jake Leg, and a tribute to Mississippi John Hurt from the Tennessee Warblers. Don’t miss the latest edition in our Rootsy Summer Sessions series, too, featuring two original numbers by Jackson Scribner.
There’s so much good music to enjoy, You Gotta Hear This!
The Bacon Brothers, “Losing the Night”
Artist: The Bacon Brothers Hometown: Philadelphia, Pennsylvania Song: “Losing the Night” Album: Ballad Of The Brothers Release Date: April 19, 2024 Label: Forosoco Music / Forty Below Records
In Their Words: “Sitting down with our co-writer, Casey Beathard, took me back to the early ’70s when I was a staff writer at Combine Music: Set a date and time, drink a lot of coffee, and crank out a song. Songwriters rule in Nashville and always will. Casey’s the top of the top. If you can listen to ‘Boys of Fall’ with a dry eye, then ‘Mister, you’re a better man than I…’ (Yardbirds.)” – Michael Bacon
“Yeah, writing with Casey was great. When we were cutting vocals, I kept returning to the recording we made on my phone as we wrote the song because I wanted to sing it like he did. The autoharp idea just came together at the last minute, but I think it’s pretty cool.” – Kevin Bacon
Video Credit: Bradley Wagner Audio Engineer: Juan Soria
Rachel Maxann, “The Tides”
Artist:Rachel Maxann Hometown: Memphis, Tennessee Song: “The Tides” Release Date: March 4, 2024
In Their Words: “‘The Tides’ is a soulful, folk love song that beautifully captures the ebb and flow of emotions in a relationship. With poetic lyrics and melodic acoustic arrangements, this heartfelt ballad explores the depth of love, drawing parallels to the rhythmic patterns of the tides. Each verse unveils a tale of connection, mirroring the gentle waves that bind two hearts together.” – Rachel Maxann
Buckstein, “Addicted to Love”
Artist:Buckstein Hometown: Denver, Colorado Song: “Addicted to Love” Release Date: March 8, 2024 Label: Rock Ridge Music
In Their Words: “When my producer brought this classic to me, I just assumed we’d be doing it for fun, never to be released. Robert Palmer is a TOUGH act to follow. Leave it to a damn good producer like Mr. E to bring out of the best in me. When he played me the rough cut, I got incredibly excited about where it was going. The production on our ‘Addicted to Love’ is some of my favorite I ever sang to, and I hope people consider it a fond tip of the hat to the late Mr. Palmer. He was a legend, and this song is timeless. Thank you for listening. I hope it’s as much fun for you as it was for us.
“P.S. We have a line dance. Check it out in the video while you listen (and there are dance instructions at the end of the video).” – Buckstein
Rosy Nolan, “One of Your Songs”
Artist:Rosy Nolan Hometown: Los Angeles via San Francisco, California Song: “One of Your Songs” Release Date: March 15, 2024 (single) Label: Blackbird Record Label
In Their Words: “‘One of Your Songs’ is a two-tempo song about a woman strung along by a two-timing man. In the first chorus, she protests, ‘Don’t play me like one of your songs,’ only to surprise him later when he becomes one of her songs.
“I was looking to write a song that oscillated between a high energy old-time tune and a traditional country two-step. I wanted the song’s tempo to reflect the extreme highs and lows of a tumultuous relationship.
“My dear friend, Dave, from Grand Ole Country Bunker suggested I shoot my music video at Sassafras Saloon, a bayou-themed bar in the heart of Hollywood. He produces widely-attended country showcases at the venue. It’s New Orleans meets Old West and contains an entire Savannah townhouse inside the bar. The townhouse was shipped out from Georgia and reassembled inside the venue. Word is that it’s haunted by several spirits. It was the perfect backdrop for the video, equipped with a balcony stage, old time relics, and a rotating bottle conveyer belt.
“Our friends, The Cowpokes from Nashville, performed that evening and they graciously allowed us to shoot the crowd shots during their performance. After a 10 hour shoot day, we were fortunate to have a lot of footage to work with.
“Jack Hackett and his crew were fantastic. I used to act when I was younger so it was a thrill to put the guitar down for a bit and get into character. Fellow cast members, Levi Petree and Frankie Lawson, made it easy and fun.” – Rosy Nolan
Darren Nicholson, “Ain’t No Sin”
Artist:Darren Nicholson Hometown: Canton, North Carolina Song: “Ain’t No Sin” Release Date: March 8, 2024 Label: Mountain Home Music Company
In Their Words: “This is our raucous, tongue-in-cheek story of mountain folk separating sin from survival. I wrote this with Charles Humphrey III, and it’s even more ironic as I’m currently several years into sobriety myself. It is a fictional tale of people (The Baker Boys) who did what they had to do to provide for their families and communities. The moonshiner way of life was embraced and woven into so many rural circles. Heck, my dad made illegal whiskey to survive; and he made it for everyone from the grannies to the politicians to the preachers. In many cases, the quality of liquor and how it benefited both producer and consumer, was a point of pride for certain areas. What many people fail to realize is, historically, corn liquor production was a way for people to earn a living when times were hard, like during the Great Depression. Early on, it wasn’t a hobby so much as a way to supplement one’s income as a necessity.
“Where the ‘sin’ part comes into play is when one can acknowledge that whiskey by itself is not a sin, but rather the overindulgence or the behaviors resulting from too much to drink, which are viewed as sinful. This song speaks to the ones who find it most sinful; the ones who can’t control the distribution of it or profit from it. I hope all who listen have fun with this track. That’s the intention!” – Darren Nicholson
In Their Words: “‘High Hopes & Low Expectations’ tells a story about a young man who is searching for his better self and greener pastures. He finally has a chance and enough money to leave town for the big city, leaving behind his home and family. He meets an older gentleman that gives him a bit of free advice: ‘Live with High Hopes & Low Expectations.’ The perspective changes halfway through the song. The young man grows old and tells the listener that the old man who gave him advice long ago was right. Go live and live well with high hopes and low expectations. Life won’t always work out right but you’ll be able to sleep well at night.
“This is really a song to myself. It makes me think of leaving Arkansas for Nashville to make it in music. I love the song so much. I wanted the song to feel like a blend of James Taylor and Elton John. I think we got close. It tells a really cool story and I especially love the word choices in the lyrics. ‘Ferry ride for western skies,’ ‘Whiskey wisdoms poured over ice,’ ‘It feels like dark chocolate, honey butter, and hot coals in a cast iron stove in a library.’ Come on!! I cowrote the song with Kendell Marvel. He has become such a good friend and has been so kind to me as I have started my career. I think of myself as the young man in this song and Kendell as the older man giving me this sage advice. It felt like we were living out the song literally as we penned it. I am still learning to live everyday with ‘High Hopes & Low Expectations.'” – JD Clayton
The Tennessee Warblers, “Louis Collins”
Artist:The Tennessee Warblers Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee Song: “Louis Collins” Release Date: March 8, 2024 (Mississippi John Hurt’s Birthday)
In Their Words: “We’ve been warblin’ this mournfully beautiful murder ballad for a number of years and thought it would be fun to release it in celebration of Mississippi John Hurt’s birthday. First recorded in 1928, the tune has become one of Hurt’s most popular and enduring numbers. Perhaps the juxtaposition of melancholy melody and murder is the reason?
“In 2012, I went on a road trip with photographer, Michael Rooney, to trace the Mississippi Blues Trail. We recently regrouped to pore over the images in search of one to represent Louis Collins’ grave to which the ‘angels laid him away.’ Unfortunately, not long after we settled on the photograph we received news that John Hurt’s home and museum in Avalon, Mississippi had burned down.
“We’d like to urge folks to donate to the Mississippi John Hurt Foundation so that they may rebuild a museum celebrating John Hurt’s kind presence, songs and one of a kind guitar style that continues to entertain and inspire all these years later.” – Adam Dalton
Jake Leg, “Fire on the Prairie”
Artist:Jake Leg Hometown: Lyons, Colorado Song: “Fire on the Prairie” Album:Fire on the Prairie Release Date: March 8, 2024
In Their Words: “‘Fire on the Prairie’ is the title track of our upcoming debut full-length album and we loved the energy we captured in the studio so much that we made it the first track on the record. I wrote ‘Fire on the Prairie’ when I was reflecting on a story I’d heard about some individuals whose entire lives seemed to revolve around the coming of the apocalypse, in a way that was almost romanticized. I found myself thinking about how growing up in an environment like that might impact a person and how they relate to the world. It’s a somewhat ominous song, thematically, and we aimed to reflect that musically with the sonic landscape of the song having sort of a looming sense of something unknown lurching toward you. I think Eric’s vocal performance on this one fits the song perfectly and the band plays with a sense of urgency that really drives it home.” – Dylan McCarthy
Rootsy Summer Sessions: Jackson Scribner
Last summer, flanked by roadside flowers and backgrounded by a softly cooing dove, singer-songwriter Jackson Scribner graced the videographers from I Know We Should with two beautiful, original songs. It’s the latest installment of our Rootsy Summer Sessions series, shot at Rootsy Summer Fest ’23 in Falkenberg, Sweden on the banks of the Ätran.
Scribner, who was born and raised in rural Texas, first performed “Front Porch Rain,” a track from his 2021 self-titled album, with backing vocals by his brother and duo partner, Levi Scribner. Jackson’s voice is soft, but confident as he sings, “Though I see it now/ watch for the weather, wanted to kill it to stay/ it’s a front porch rain…” a striking lyric beneath the summer Swedish sun. There’s certainly a familial quality to the harmonies, though Levi leaves plenty of breathing room, allowing Jackson’s lyrics to come forward.
With 23 years behind them, Blackberry Smoke are still one of the best examples of Southern rock in the modern era – but what does that even mean, right?
Led by singer, guitarist, and primary songwriter Charlie Starr, the band does indeed have roots pointing straight to hard-driving ‘70s icons like Lynyrd Skynyrd, the Allman Brothers Band, and more. That’s true, but they also pull inspirations from farther back. And to Starr, Southern rock, at its core, is a continuation of the Appalachian tradition: “String band music and storytelling.”
With their latest album, Be Right Here, some of that old-time tradition shines through the cracks of a warm, distorted wall of sound, with heartfelt song craft and acoustic-guitar melodies front and center. Meanwhile, the band continue to prove crunchy, doubled guitar solos, thundering drums, and anthemic vocals never go out of style.
BGS spoke with Starr before Be Right Here was released, to see what has changed (and what will always stay the same) for one of the most dynamic Southern rock bands in history – a history they know all too well.
I thought I’d kind of start just seeing how you’re feeling at this point. You’ve been burning up the road for over two decades now, which seems crazy to me. How do you feel about where you’ve have been, and where you are now?
Charlie Starr: I mean, I’m tired. [Laughs] No, I feel good. We all do. It doesn’t seem like it’s been that long. It’s surreal to think it’s been 23 years. I don’t feel like I’m old enough to say that I’ve been doing anything for 23 years other than breathing, but I’m proud of what we’ve accomplished. It feels good.
Blackberry Smoke is one of the best pieces of evidence that Southern rock is still alive and well. But I was just wondering, do you think there’s still more to say in that? Is the form still inspiring to you?
Totally. Just listen to any song from those amazing early Skynyrd records or Allman Brothers or Marshall Tucker Band records, Blackfoot – all those bands are so different, and it really was just geography that tied ‘em all together. They all had their own fingerprint. And I think that we do, too.
I was listening to Patty Loveless in an interview and she was talking about bluegrass – which I grew up playing and I dearly love also – and she was talking about how those first generation bluegrass bands, like Bill Monroe and the Blue Grass Boys, Flatt & Scruggs, and the Stanley Brothers, they came from this rich musical heritage of the mountains where they grew up in Kentucky, Virginia, Tennessee, North Carolina. And what they were drawing from was acoustic string band music and storytelling.
Well, now, fast forward all this time, and modern bluegrass musicians not only have that, but they also have Led Zeppelin and the Beatles and the Rolling Stones and all this. There’s so much more. So I kind of look at it in a similar fashion with “Southern rock” bands, because those guys were listening to not only what I just mentioned, with the hillbilly country music and string band music, but also the British invasion and then traditional country and the Beach Boys. As time moves along, there’s just more and more that gets poured into the soup. So to answer your question in a very long-winded way, I think that it can go on forever.
So you’re kind of the third wave of popular Southern music, taking all that was done before and adding in the new influence, too.
Yeah, if we were a tribute band that just dressed up like some old ‘70s band and played their songs, then it would suck. But since we have the freedom to explore our own musicality, it can never end.
The new album is called Be Right Here. What was the spark that got this one going?
In my case, it’ll usually be a little explosion of songs. I’ll know that album time is coming, and so I’ll get to work on writing a batch of songs. It doesn’t always come quickly but it usually seems to work out, which I’m happy to say, because it kind of falls on me – which I don’t complain about that at all. I dearly love to write songs and I’m glad that it’s my job. There are worse jobs to have. Writing songs for Blackberry Smoke is much easier than working in a body shop, which I did for years.
At this point, 23 years on, are you still writing about the same stuff?
Well, I guess stories can all be new, stories of love and loss and frustration and women and men and drinking – or not – whatever. But if you look at popular music as a whole, there are new subjects that enter our culture, like cell phones and the internet and Facebook. I don’t know if I’ve ever used the word Facebook in a song. I probably won’t. But no matter what comes along technology wise, time stays the same. It’s still moving at 60 seconds per minute, and that’s not going to ever change. And human beings behave really the same way.
That said, the internet’s changed everything really. Not entirely, but it’s added a new accent to everything we do. I think John Mellencamp said it best, he goes, “I’m not sure if we’re supposed to hear this many voices at all at once.” That complicates life, really. It might push me back into my hermit hole a little more. As a songwriter even, it pushes me to the old ways more, melodically and musically. I don’t think anything really new can be said. We’re just trying to find an interesting slant on the way we say it.
You teamed up with Grammy-winning producer Dave Cobb for the second time, and he’s famous for live recording and loving first takes. Does that work well for a band like you guys, who are very live-show oriented?
It does. And in this case, it’s very interesting. We went back to RCA Studio A again, and he said, “This time I’m going to put the drums and amps and you guys all in the big room, so we’re all going to be in a little cluster.” And I was like, “Really?” As soon as we started playing together, it was like, “Oh man, okay, this is working. We don’t necessarily need all the separation.”
Some producers would be like, “Hell no. There’s no way I’d ever make a record like that.” It can be too sloppy. But Dave was like, “Well, we’re capturing this one sound. Let’s capture it all in the room, like a ‘60s record or even a ‘50s record.” So that’s what we did.
Tell me a little bit about “Dig a Hole.” It was the first track written, the first track on the album and the first one released, with a theme of choosing your own path – for better or worse. Is that kind of what you have done as a band?
We have. It’s been our only choice, really, because nobody’s ever come around with a different idea. [Laughs] It’s funny, I put together a [track list] and sent it to Dave, and I had “Hammer at the Nail” first. And Dave goes, “Are you insane? ‘Dig a Hole’ is first. Why would you think that ‘Hammer at the Nail’ should be first?” I said, “Because it’s faster.” And he said, “I don’t give a shit about fast. ‘Dig a Hole’ is like you guys are winding up to kick somebody’s ass!”
“Azalea” leans more into the folky aspect of what Blackberry Smoke does. It’s got that acoustic shimmer of a classic-rock ballad. Where does that come from for you?
Man, I just love that kind of acoustic music. Again, that kind of stuff was my upbringing, and I’ll never turn it loose. That song lyrically was about fatherhood, because here we are now, our children are all growing up. I’ve already seen one go to college, graduate, now get married, so it’s like, “Well you hold on tight, but you don’t want to smother ‘em.” They have their own path to forge, so all you can do is try to be there for ‘em.
I’ll leave you with the big picture. After 23 years, what you hope people take away from this particular record?
I just hope they dig it. I mean, I don’t know if I expect people to experience it in a different way than I do or not. I don’t know. But I do get a lot of enjoyment right now listening to it.
Northern California folk-rock trio Rainbow Girls have always been committed to a grassroots approach to their band. Despite amassing a large community of fans, they remain an entirely independent and self-described mom-and-pop shop. Their new album, Welcome to Whatever (released in early December), spans a broad range of genre references and topics, but is rooted in the trio’s attitude of stubborn tenacity and joyful resilience – in the face of gentrification, capitalism, racism, and a generally challenging world.
In an industry which largely favors solo professional efforts over more complex group dynamics, Rainbow Girls have flourished over more than a decade of playing together and they remain a close-knit family. Most recently, the band has been nominated for Folk Alliance International’s Album of the Year award.
Curious to know more about how they have been able to make their collaboration work for so long and to such a beautiful end, BGS reached Vanessa Wilbourn, Erin Chapin, and Caitlin Gowdey via email to chat about the new album and how they feel about being a hold-out band in Northern California, when a lot of the region’s artistic class has been pushed out due to expense.
I loved reading about how you formed as a band and how long you’ve been playing together. Now that you’ve established yourself as a professional unit, how do you see your different roles in the band musically and personally? Who does what?
Vanessa Wilbourn: In terms of music, for the last few years we have tended to write individually. Once the idea has taken its initial form, its writer will bring the bare song to the collective. At times, the songwriter will have a clear idea for some or all of the vocal and/or instrumental parts. Other times, the song will be shared in its raw form and we as a collective will work to compose instrumental and vocal parts and arrange the song.
In terms of our business, we all play our parts. Our band is in every way a mom-and-pop shop. Mom, who is our best friend/live-in manager [Hannah Spero], keeps all of it together. She does the hard work of making sure we can keep the doors open. Dad, who is Erin, along with the support of mom, makes sure people know that we’re the best place in town for a good laugh and cry. He does Everything Internet plus a billion other things. Sis, Caitlin, does all of the design work; the albums, the merch, the promo material. Bro, Vanessa, runs our store. She makes sure that all of Caitlin’s designs make it on to shirts, hats and LPs so that our fans can have a piece of the pie.
In terms of interpersonal dynamics, we’re a family – so you know how that goes.
Friendships shared over formative years are special. How do you feel that you’ve seen one another grow and change since being students at college together? How has the band unit been there for you as people?
Our sweater game has immensely improved, because we live further north now.
We’re all better at putting on lipstick and I guess we’re also better at writing songs.
Erin used to be the blind one, but now it’s Caitlin.
I read that you have done extensive traveling and touring in Europe. What are some of the main differences you’ve found between touring in Europe versus the U.S.?
Caitlin Gowdey: We love where we come from, but boy howdy it’s wild how much better touring in Europe is. First of all, you can confidently eat any sandwich at any gas station and it’ll be a solidly good sandwich. Secondly, most major cities in Europe have bigger budgets for music and art, because it’s a larger, more embedded part of the culture.
Artists just generally get paid more, no matter where you’re playing. If you play a show at a venue they feed you and give you somewhere to stay as a part of the deal. If you’re a busker playing on the street (which we were for many years), there’s an understanding that you’re adding to the romantic atmosphere for tourists, and a respect that comes with that. More cities are designed for foot traffic, and people are just wandering around looking at giant clocks and waiting to be serenaded. We’ve met dozens of full-time buskers who sign up and clock in to the same couple spots every day and make a good amount of money. It’s kind of mind boggling.
So far, the only thing we’ve found about being a musician in Europe that’s worse is having to pay to use the toilets at a highway rest stop. Outrageous.
The album’s title, Welcome to Whatever, evokes a kind of slacker rock apathy, but there is a lot of thought and compassion behind the songwriting. What do you feel that the album’s title is getting at?
CG: [Laughs] Well, slacker rock is near and dear to my heart after years in the suburbs spent quoting Dazed and Confused and getting high in the Safeway parking lot, but the title is definitely not about apathy. The “whatever” is more an acknowledgement that the world is complicated and messy and we’re here for it. Nothing is guaranteed and nothing is constant, but we have each other and we’re ready to take on whatever might be coming next. Also the songs are definitely heartfelt, but they’re also all over the place in terms of vibe/genre.
I’m glad the rest of the girls liked the name, because the other album title idea I had written down in my notes – which I was gonna go to bat for – was “EAT PREY LOVE” with a bad drawing of a T-Rex.
On “City Slickers,” you sing about your nostalgic love for San Francisco. What is it like being a musician in the Bay Area these days? Are there things you still love about the place?
CG: It’s tough. It’s expensive. A lot of favorite venues have shut down, a lot of friends have moved away. It’s gentrification and technology and capitalism. Rich white people and oat milk and AirBnB are ruining Oakland. Tech companies and tech money could help homelessness, but they don’t because they don’t have to. I don’t even know what to say about it, it’s not a new story.
But cities are made of so many different types of people, shitty and amazing both, you can’t just claim it’s ruined. There’s a cool new punk club called Kilowatt. Hopefully it stays. People are still being weird and funny and queer and proud and making art, hanging on, and working their asses off to stay. There’s still an old guy named “The Professor” who rides around on his bike and hangs out when the shows get out to tell you about what he did yesterday. Scary Gary is working the door at Cornerstone and will buy you Doritos from across the street when the venue doesn’t provide food in the greenroom. At least we can still have abortions.
Many things contribute to the most memorable recording projects, but according to genre-hopping bluegrass band Town Mountain, there’s nothing quite like working on hallowed ground.
For their new six-song EP, Dance Me Down Easy: The Woodstock Sessions (out January 18), the band had an unexpected chance to record at the upstate New York home/jam space/studio of roots music legend Levon Helm – and they wisely jumped at the chance. Produced by Justin Francis, the equally unexpected set finds Town Mountain tapping the spirit that made Helm and The Band so inspiring, leading to a uniquely funky addition to their catalog.
Built around deep-pocketed, deep-cut covers of tracks by Helm, The Kinks, J.J. Cale, Dire Straits, and The Rolling Stones, Dance Me Down Easy is filled with homespun soul and helps connect the dots between normally separate musical worlds. And as mandolin playing primary songwriter Phil Barker says, it wouldn’t be the same without Helm’s spiritual presence.
“It’ll be tough to top as far as a studio vibe, that’s always a big thing for us is the space we’re recording in,” Barker says. “It’s got to be an inspirational thing, and this place had inspiration for days.”
Speaking with BGS from the band’s hometown of Asheville, North Carolina, Barker did his best to describe a spur-of-the-moment, three-day musical getaway that turned into a bucket-list experience, and gave an already-adventurous band new license to rock.
This seems like the type of project where y’all got to let off some steam and have a little fun. Was it time for a change of pace?
Phil Barker: Well, our label New West was talking to us about recording some cover tunes [to] tie it over to our next record… and we had a show booked at Levon’s Barn, which was our first time playing there. From the other people we’d talked to, we knew this was going to be nothing but vibe and our routing worked out where we had a couple days at the end of the tour. So it was like, “Why don’t we just go back to the barn and hang out there for a few days?” …It was the perfect space to do this. No high pressure situation. It’s just like, “Let’s cut loose and have fun on songs that we enjoy.”
For people who might not know, what does Levon Helm’s barn represent in roots music?
For me, it’s kind of like one of the epicenters of the whole Americana genre. He had such a great way of bridging rock and roll with funk and country and traditional American music. And him as a musician in the bands that he was in, he was such a huge influence on everybody. This place was his spiritual center, where he would come and all the parties he would have there. All the creativity that happened in this space has just kind of generated this buzz within itself, and the word just spreads. Everybody we’d talked to was like, “Oh man, you’re going to love it there.” And we’ve told everybody since then like, “You got to go, man. You got to go there.” So any fan of music and traditional American music in particular, it’s a one of a kind of experience and we’ve always had it on our bucket list to go play. I’m so glad we got to do some recording there as well.
I knew there were jams held there, but I didn’t realize it was a full recording studio as well.
We talked to a lot of folks up there and the story goes that Levon decided he wanted to bring the party to him, he wanted to bring it to his space. So he created this barn literally on the back of his house. If you go through the back wall of the barn performance area, it’s his kitchen. So it’s literally his house and this beautiful property with a nice lake and all these woods. I mean, if you create a space like that and people are already playing music in there, they’re going to want to record. So there’s no fancy infrastructure for recording – it’s just a barn and there’s a couple baffles you can roll around, not isolation booths or anything – but it’s meant for a community kind of performance.
Take me through the first moment of walking in there. What did it feel like?
It’s like being in a church. Everybody just started walking around seeing all the spaces, and you go downstairs and there’s just endless Levon memorabilia on the walls. All these amazing pictures, all these random artifacts you’ll see nowhere else, and you can just feel all the creative energy that has happened in this space and it’s really kind of like buzzing. It was a really moving experience, honestly.
You’ve said that Levon had things figured out, musically? What do you mean by that?
Man, he just knew where the pocket was supposed to be. …It’s like he knew how to connect with the soul of any kind of music, and how it would connect with people.
Is that why you picked the songs you did? They represent a pretty wide swath of rock and roll.
It’s always a challenge to come up with cover tunes and we went through a bunch of ‘em. If it was meant for your band, I feel like you’ll know in the first couple of times you sit down together and play it. …We were open to every genre. Any suggestion was something we would try out if somebody was felt passionately about it. It just so happened that the ones that were working best with us in this particular situation, were more from the rock genre.
Town Mountain as a band has always had a bunch of that influence anyways, right?
Oh, absolutely. We had a Jay Farrar tune on the first record, so it’s always been on something we’ve embraced and not been afraid of.
“Dance Me Down Easy” ended up being the title song – one of Levon’s, but not The Band’s. Why did you pick that and not “Cripple Creek” or “The Weight” or something?
We wanted to pay a little homage to the stuff Levon did outside of The Band. That one’s from one of his killer solo records and something maybe people haven’t done as much. And honestly, it’s just fun to play. It’s like a funky dance tune that we don’t really do. We wanted to highlight that Levon was so much more than The Band, both as a musician and a person. So it was a natural fit.
The Kinks’ track “Strangers” really stood out, too. How did that get in the mix?
That was one of my picks. That song, I’ve just listened to it for years and I’ve always gravitated towards it. I’ll go through these phases where it’ll be on my Spotify mix and I’ll repeat it for literally 10 or 15 times in a row. I can just listen to that song forever because it really resonates with me. I love the writing and I love the feel, it’s really unique and I wanted to give it a little more country-rock vibe.
Did any of them surprise you with how they turned out?
Probably “So Far Away.” When we originally thought about that tune, it’s just like Dire Straits is so iconic and they have this laid-back vibe. It’s such a perfect fit for that tune. But at the same time, the lyrics are so country and we thought it would definitely fit with a pedal steel behind it. We kind of gave it a little bit of a Cajun swing feel.
Is this experience going to stay with you guys? Is the vibe something you’re able to take with you on the road?
That’s a great question. Hopefully we’ll incorporate it into more of the rest of our material, and find a way to tap into that. It’s a very space driven thing, so hopefully we can keep that in mind and let it guide our way in the future.
Happy Holidays from the entire team at BGS! The holiday weekend fast approaches and while we’re taking time away from our screens and inboxes this season, we hope you are, too. We’ll be back with more roots music content next week, but for now enjoy our final BGS Wraps before Christmas.
Wherever you travel and whatever your plans are as you wrap up 2023 and look ahead to 2024, we’re so grateful that you’re part of the BGS family.
Ellen Angelico AKA “Uncle Ellen,” Christmas at the Firehouse
Ellen Angelico is an in-demand side musician and session player in Nashville, touring, recording, and performing with artists like Cam, Amythyst Kiah, Adeem the Artist, Allison Russell, and many more. Christmas at the Firehouse is a fun and light holiday EP full of classic tunes and even a number for the Scandinavian winter holiday, St. Lucia’s Day. It’s a perfect addition to BGS Wraps!
Luke Bulla, Holiday Songs
Only available via Bandcamp, fiddler and singer-songwriter Luke Bulla’s seasonal album, Holiday Songs, showcases the particular intersections of Bulla’s musical career and artistry – Texas and Nashville, bluegrass and country, contest fiddling’s polish and old-time fiddling’s grit. “Christmas for Cowboys” is delightfully country & western and his version of “Auld Lang Syne” has us looking ahead to the new year already.
Celeigh Cardinal, “Party of One”
“New Year’s never comes/ When you’re nothing more than a party of one/…”
One of Celeigh Cardinal’s most experimental and far-reaching releases, this vibey and lush alt-pop track celebrates and bemoans solitude at the holiday season, especially the transition from the old year to the new. Add this one to your NYE playlist for sure.
Erin Enderlin, “A Horse Named Christmas”
Horse Girl Christmas is an aesthetic we could certainly get behind! Country singer-songwriter Erin Enderlin is joined by Kimberly Kelly on “A Horse Named Christmas,” a rare instance of a waning country and roots music tradition – the horse song. Co-written by Enderlin and Kelly, the track is a love song meets story song about a wayward, down-trodden horse showing up at the back gate in December.
Sarah King, “The Longest Night”
The light is coming back! If you’ve been counting down the days to solstice’s long, dark night and the eventual return of the sun, you’re not alone. On Sarah King’s soulful new track, “The Longest Night,” hope shines through a sense of weary perseverance. It’s an excellent song to score your solstice.
Alan Lomax Collection, Songs of Christmas, Midwinter & New Year
Another Bandcamp exclusive, the Alan Lomax Collection released a new compilation earlier this month called Songs of Christmas, Midwinter & New Year. The album features tracks recorded by Lomax in the ‘50s and ‘60s and highlights folk traditions from all around the world, from Italy to Trinidad, Harlem to Nevis.
J. Morrow, Lauren Morrow, “Strange Christmas”
An alt-rock, Americana number that celebrates – and decries – a strange, strange Christmas. We all know the sort of holiday, where the best strategy is to just get through it. Maybe your tree is a little wonky, your loved ones are far away, and you’re feeling more like Scrooge than Tiny Tim. It’s okay to have a “Strange Christmas.”
Mason Ramsey, “Run Run Rudolph”
We are proud and unapologetic Mason Ramsey fans over here and not just for his Wal-Mart yodeling. Who else agrees!? A fun and raucous holiday track from Ramsey adds a bit of chicken pickin’ to the forward leaning, Chuck Berry-inspired sound.
Scythian, Christmas Out at Sea
If you’re one of the folks for whom 2020’s sea shanty craze never ended, Scythian have released a holiday album just for you! Christmas Out at Sea is a maritime holiday delight by the premier dance and late night band of the roots music festival scene. Of course the collection kicks off with “I Saw Three Ships.”
Serabee, “Bayou Christmas”
Maybe your Christmas tree is a cypress or a live oak? Maybe you’re spending the holiday on stilts or boiling seafood or slow simmering gumbo? However swampy your season, Serabee’s “Bayou Christmas” will get you in the mood.
Jordyn Shellhart, Cross-Legged By the Fireplace
Jordyn Shellhart made our BGS Class of 2023 Good Country year-end round-up and the country artist – with a solidly mainstream sound – put out a cozy and delightful holiday EP this year, as well. She covers Joni Mitchell’s “River” and another more recent holiday song, “You Make It Feel Like Christmas.” On the latter, the EP’s standout track, she’s joined by Austin Snell for a tender duet. The project culminates with an original, “Coming To Town,” that will have you curling up by the fireplace, too.
Hunter Stone, “Ugly Sweater Party”
As you don your hideous-yet-beautiful holiday sweaters this season, Hunter Stone has the soundtrack for you! Although, a bit of critical feedback Hunter, we don’t think your pictured sweater is nearly ugly enough for the album art. This is a toe-tapping song that will have you grinning above your turtleneck. Lose that button on your slacks!
Our Classic Holiday Album Recommendation of the Week: Vince Guaraldi Trio, A Charlie Brown Christmas
BGS Wraps would have been an absolutely phony endeavor if it didn’t end up including Vince Guaraldi Trio’s A Charlie Brown Christmas as a Classic Holiday Album Recommendation. This record can do it all, from the fanciest of dinner parties to the most casual and unhinged dance pajama parties with the siblings and cousins. It’s a heavy dose of nostalgia and an unimpeachable collection of music, too.
Happy Holidays from all of us at BGS! We’ll have a New Year’s themed BGS Wraps for you next week, ‘til then – peace, love, and joy from us to you.
(Editor’s note: All inset photos by Carl Fleischhauer.)
In my previous memoir I described what I knew of Rusty York when Carl Fleischhauer and I arrived at his Jewel Recording Studios in Mt. Healthy, Ohio, on the afternoon of August 15, 1972.
We had walked into the midst of a recording session. In the studio was the Reverend Bobby Grove (née Musgrove), his wife Fayette, oldest son Bobby Junior (a drummer), some other friends, and five studio musicians – Eddie Drake, lead guitar; Junior Boyer, pedal steel; Bob Sanderson, bass; Jack Sanderson, rhythm guitar; and Denzil “Denny” Rice, piano.
L: Rusty York in the studio control room recording overdubs by Bobby Grove, seated. R: Bobby Grove during a recording session. At the Jewel Recording Studios in the Mt. Healthy suburb of Cincinnati, Ohio, August 15, 1972.
Later I wrote in my notes:
Grove has made 35 LPs. Has a “club” – he mails out each record to a list of 10,000, with a request for a minimum contribution of $4.00.
Originally from Kentucky, the Groves now lived in Hamilton, Ohio, where Bobby had opened his own church about four years earlier. I noted:
Rusty makes up soundtracks for him from the LP masters which are minus the voice tracks – he uses these in personal appearances.
Bobby’s wife Fayette described this process to me. “Really cuts down on the expenses. He just takes the soundtrack along. It’s really marvelous,” she said.
The studio was probably about a fifty-foot square, with the master panel occupying a quarter, the studio space an “L” around it… In the recording room, where I set up my cassette (it looked ludicrous!), was an 8 track, a 16 track and a 2 track. The recording was being done on 8 tracks.
Recording session at the Jewel Recording Studios in the Mt. Healthy suburb of Cincinnati, Ohio, August 15, 1972. At left, Bob Sanderson, bass guitar; right, singer Bobby Grove.Recording session at the Jewel Recording Studios in the Mt. Healthy suburb of Cincinnati, Ohio, August 15, 1972. Performers shown here include Fayette Grove, Eddie Drake, Bobby Grove, Junior Boyer, and Bob Sanderson.
I ran the cassette intermittently trying to get snatches of conversation and brief interviews between phone calls, takes and visitors which never seemed to ruffle Rusty’s feathers. Obviously, he is a person of tremendous energy and talent, starting with his musical abilities (from rock to ‘grass) going to his present recording activities.
During this session Bobby had his bible tucked under his arm during every “take.”
After recording several songs, he asked Rusty: “Would it be all right, these next three songs, if I just sang the words — the country words — and then come in and do ‘em, like that? Then I’ll write ‘em. That way I’ll do something that we know real quick and we’ll just go through it and I’ll go home and write ‘em. And when I come in and mix it down just dub it in real quick?”
Rusty said, “Yeah that’s fine.”
During a break at a recording session at the Jewel Recording Studios in the Mt. Healthy suburb of Cincinnati, Ohio, August 15, 1972. Rusty York, recording engineer; Bob Sanderson; Jack Sanderson. In the background, Eddie Drake.Tape box from the recording session for singer Bobby Grove at the Jewel Recording Studios in the Mt. Healthy suburb of Cincinnati, Ohio, August 15, 1972.
In the five years since I had seen him, York had expanded…to two studios (the other, bigger, in Hamilton) with loads of sophisticated equipment.
Rusty: “I bought a professional recorder in ’61, just in my garage. In fact, you know, you were out there.”
“So, you got into it kind of gradually,” I respond.
He nodded: “I didn’t just go and buy a hundred thousand dollars’ worth of equipment like a guy I knew here in town. He’s hurting; but I’m booked, you know, all the time.”
“Since you do this all the time,” I said, “you probably get rates from the pressing people, and so on?”
“I’m their biggest customer, yeah.”
What drew him into recording, I wondered.
He explained: “It just happened. It was really nice to make fifty extra dollars on Sunday, you know, by doing our own album, you know. Or some kind of session. Still, I still play music, I thought that’s what I want to do, you know. It got to be a, where I could make so much more money and not be the big hassle, like getting stoned every night that you played, chicks all over your body.” [Laughter]
Rusty York at the mixing board at the Jewel Recording Studios in the Mt. Healthy suburb of Cincinnati, Ohio, August 15, 1972.
Rusty appeared to be paying only scant attention to the recording session but every once in a while, would pinpoint out-of-tune instruments (…he can isolate mikes from the fairly well-baffled studio and hear exactly who’s doing what), suggest drum riffs, etc.
Rusty explained to us that his connections with Bobby Grove reached back to his earliest days in Kentucky:
“Yeah, we’ve all worked together at one time or another. Willard and I worked at Bobby’s father’s, he had a little barn dance and that, the Stanley Brothers –”
Grove’s son interjected: “Grandpa!”
Rusty said, “Huh?”
“You met my grandpa.”
“Yeah, probably before you was born.”
I asked: “What was his name?” “Jason Musgrove,” Rusty said.
Grove’s son recalled the venue well: “Did you know in that barn he had a sign, said no alcoholic beverages allowed in this area? He stayed drunk there all the time.”
“No!” Rusty replied in a mock serious whisper.
“That’s right”
“Well, we had a bottle or two out in the front of our car all the time.”
Grove: “I can picture him wrestling a bear.”
Rusty: “We saw a bear-wrestling match in there.”
Grove: “Was you there when that happened?”
Rusty: “Yeah. Were you around?”
Grove: “No, that was when I was born. ‘56” [Laughter]
Bobby Grove recording session at the Jewel Recording Studios in the Mt. Healthy suburb of Cincinnati, Ohio, August 15, 1972. Left to right: Eddie Drake, rhythm guitar; Junior Boyer, pedal steel guitar; Bob Sanderson, bass guitar; Bobby Grove, vocal.Guitarist Jack Sanderson and singer Bobby Grove at a recording session at the Jewel Recording Studios in the Mt. Healthy suburb of Cincinnati, Ohio, August 15, 1972.
Rusty explained: “His grandpa ran a, what did he call it? Green Valley Barn Dance. And right now, that place is worth millions of dollars, and he lost it cause he couldn’t make the payments or something. Forty-two dollars a month payment.”
Grove: “Kent Valley Lake”
“Now it’s, you know, you could probably get twenty, thirty million dollars for the place. Got a big lake –”
“I started playing, I guess, when I first come to Cincinnati, about ’52. I just picked up an old guitar. My father bought me an old five-dollar guitar.”
“I went to see Lester Flatt and Earl Scruggs first time up in Jackson theater in about ’53, I guess. And I just couldn’t believe man, anybody could play a banjo like that, I just… Boy! I stayed for both shows that night… I mean it was just like heaven then, ‘cause nobody, you couldn’t never see it. There’s so much of it now, you know. Everybody can play good now, you know. But then, it was only him. I had a tenor banjo, I put fifth key on it. It was a Mastertone too, Gibson. Four-string.”
Folklorist Neil V. Rosenberg and recording engineer Rusty York at the Jewel Recording Studios in the Mt. Healthy suburb of Cincinnati, Ohio, August 15, 1972.
The only five-string banjo style he’d known before Scruggs was that of his Grandma. He recalled that she’d made the head of her banjo from a groundhog skin.
“Willard Hale was from Somerset. Where I met Willard, I stopped into a little bar out in Cincinnati, and they had music. They set up a little amplifier and the mandolin with the guitar. Willard and this other fellow were singing duets and one guy played the mandolin. I set in with my banjo and then this one guy left and I – every weekend, I’d go out and play with them. Like Friday, Saturday night. Boy, free beer! I couldn’t believe it, you know, getting free beer and a, I found out later that this guy was getting paid for me all the time I wasn’t getting any bread.”
“Willard and I used to just stand on the stage, two of us, and play banjo and guitar and sing duets. Then Elvis came along and they started saying, ‘Hey you know “Hound Dog”’ and you know, man, ‘You from the country, you shouldn’t be asking for a song like that.’ And even country boys started liking Elvis, you know. And we had to switch over to electric guitar and a guitar and then switch over to bass, and we finally had to add drums, then turned into modern country. Although we were the highest paid ones in Cincinnati for a long time, just Willard and I. …Our salary was on ten-fifteen bucks apiece a night, but the kitty would be the kind of money, might be fifty bucks a night. And that was a lot then.”
“The highlight of our whole night was when we got the banjo and upright bass and Martin guitar out. And boy people really dug it, but we didn’t give ‘em too much of it, cause they still like to dance. [Otherwise] I played electric guitar and the other boy played bass. And we might play, sometimes an hour of bluegrass. Really it was a treat, you know, a change for the people.”
“I played banjo – ‘Down The Road’ and things like that. And every, the whole place would swarm the floor, you know. They’d do this soft-shoe backstep buck and wing hoedown. That’s what I call it. It’s almost like square dancing without any organization. Everybody just doing their own thing. But it, it’s that clog, what I call – the soft-shoe backstep buck and wing hoedown.”
I was curious about “Sugaree,” that jukebox single I’d bought in Oberlin back in 1960. Rusty explained:
“I was doing, you know, some bluegrass stuff and this guy came to me, said — that’s when the Chipmunks were popular [1959] — he said let’s go and record this ‘She’ll Be Coming Round The Mountain’ we’ll go ‘She’ll be dum da da, Do diol lu’ (etc. — imitates twangy guitar doing first line of that song) and the Chipmunks go ‘Cha Cha Cha’ (high pitch).”
“On the way out there [to the studio] he says, what are we gonna do on the other side? I says, I don’t know. He said, well do ‘Sugaree’ or ‘Long Tall Sally’ or something, I said I don’t even know that. That was just decided on the way out to the studios. It was a bad record – shoo! I, I can’t stand to hear it.”
Rusty York at the mixing board at the Jewel Recording Studios in the Mt. Healthy suburb of Cincinnati, Ohio, August 15, 1972.
“We recorded it at King records studio. Paid for the session ourself. Forty bucks it cost. We tried to peddle it to everybody – RCA and Mercury – and nobody wanted it. So, we put it out ourselves on my [own label], started Jewel. It got to be number two in Cincinnati, and they said something must be happening, you know we pressed the thousand, sold them, pressed a few more and this guy, Pat Nelson negotiated with Chess Records and we leased it to them.”
“I did another record and they never released it. I died, as far as — I did the Hollywood Bowl, and American Bandstand with Dick Clark.”
I was also curious about those “Bluegrass Special” EPs he’d done in the early ’60s. Did he still have copies?
“Ah, I’ve got ‘em on tape, but I don’t have the actual records. You know, those sold a lot of records. Like 200,000… Used to hear Jimmie Skinner and I on that fifteen-minute thing [Wayne Raney show on WCKY], selling the package.”
Rusty told me about the next chapter in his story, which was new to me at the time:
“I went with Bobby Bare; you know I was front man for his show. Played Reno, Las Vegas and just about every state in the Union and I went to Europe, about ten countries. … in ’64 and ‘5. It don’t seem that long ago.” …
I replied, “It doesn’t to me either.” I asked, “You’re not playing any, now, then, are you?”
“No, I started back playing about two months ago in one of the biggest nightclubs here. I just couldn’t take it, ‘cause I’d have to get early do a session and I make 90 buck an hour here, over there I might make – I was playing for the door. Sometimes we would make six hundred bucks a night for the band and sometimes a hundred, split five ways. So–”
“I enjoy just sitting around and playing, but I don’t know, as far as getting before a crowd and doing a thing, I’m not crazy about it. It’s really work, to me. … Most people, I’ve found, have an ego problem. I don’t know if it’s ego or insecurity, but they want to get up before a crowd and sing and–”
“Work it out, up there?” I interjected.
“Yeah. Most, most people that are in the business are very insecure and [play to/depend on] the crowd a lot. Bobby Bare was … he was a nice guy but he was kind of a, well was insecure. He’d like to sleep maybe eighteen hours a day, escape from reality.”
I was struck by York’s insightful comment about musicians having an ego problem. In later years I’ve characterized it in this way: the musician, selling himself or herself, is both product and salesperson. It’s a vision that has stuck with me, like “Don’t Do It.”
Since my research was focused on bluegrass, I was eager to hear what Rusty had to say about it. He began by talking about recording bluegrass.
“Here I don’t do a lot of bluegrass now. Most of them don’t have the money to afford to record. … I try to give ‘em a real good break. Something that’s gonna be around for a long time, I mean a bluegrass record is gonna be around forever, because there always will be somebody that likes bluegrass. I charge them a flat rate you know – sixteen hundred bucks or so for a thousand albums. In other words, they could not afford to pay studio time and do an album and pay for the tape and the mix so I just give them a flat break, price.”
I suggested, “You must know most of the good bluegrass musicians in this area.”
“Yeah, I do. They all want to record with me because they, I understand it a little bit better than some engineers.”
He told me that it’s the most difficult stuff to record, explaining:
“Well, most of ‘em play and sing at the same time. You got a mic for the banjo over here and voice up here — you got two mics, you’re gonna have phase cancellation between them. A mandolin player, you’re gonna have to do the same thing. The bass leaks into the voice mics, cause he’s got to sing too, and it’s really difficult. … And they want to get, this space is big and they all like to get right together.” Pointing to the spread-out, country sidemen working with Grove in the studio, he said: “See how far apart these guys are now? And they won’t overdub. It’s a real challenge, I’ll say that. To get a real group in here, that’s really got good harmonies, you know that’s really nice. I’d almost do it for nothing.”
I asked, “Do the country DJs around here play much bluegrass?” “The Osborne Brothers,” he said, adding “Paul Mullins plays a lot of bluegrass. He’s very well liked and a lot of people listen to him. He’s got little witty – you’ve heard him – little witty sayings and he’s about that… Yeah, I’ve got an album by him coming out by him. It should be out any day now, that he cut here.”
Rusty York at the mixing board at the Jewel Recording Studios in the Mt. Healthy suburb of Cincinnati, Ohio, August 15, 1972.
I closed my notes for that day summarizing the work at Jewel:
Rusty’s operation involves packages – he sells 1,000 finished LPs for $1600 (more or less, depending on studio time, number of tracks – the latter a function of tape since 16 tracks takes 2” tape, etc.) and he sees to recording, mixing, pressing, printing, art, etc. The musician who is buying the package pays for the sidemen though Rusty often (as in Grove’s case) sets up the session sidemen too. He assigns master numbers, keeps records of his operation, etc.
In Bartenstein and Ellison’s book, Industrial Strength Bluegrass (Illinois, 2021), Mac McDivitt devotes a section to Jewel, saying that by 2008, when Rusty retired, “Jewel had cemented a reputation as the ‘go to’ place to record in the Cincinnati area” (53-55). Selling the business, York moved to Florida. He died in 2014. Bear Family has released two CDs of Rusty’s rockabilly recordings.
Been around the world, seen some of everything, but what I like about it the most is the joy that I bring…
– Robert Finley, “Livin’ Out A Suitcase”
Whether it’s at home or abroad, Robert Finley’s youthful exuberance has a knack for not only lighting up rooms, but people’s faces as well. On his latest batch of songs, the former sharecropper and carpenter – who got his start in music during a stint in the Army – continues that trend with 11 stories pulled from his Louisiana upbringing that include everything from the poignant “No One Wants To Be Lonely” to the cheeky and overly embellished “Alligator Bait.”
Pulling from rock, soul, blues and a whole lot of gospel, Black Bayou is easily Finley’s most personal and sonically developed record to date. His third project with Dan Auerbach and Easy Eye Sound, the record is one that came about organically, feeding on the artist’s energetic live performances with lyrics and arrangements put together on the spot in the studio with no pre-fabricated blueprint.
“When we did this album there was no pencil or paper in the room,” Finley tells BGS of the process. “The band was free to jam what they felt and I had the freedom to say what I felt. Nothing was written beforehand, it all came to life in the moment.”
Born in Winnsboro and now based in Bernice, a North Louisiana hamlet only thirty miles from the Arkansas border, Finley has excelled at living in the moment despite the fast moving world around him. That essence is what accelerates his storytelling throughout Black Bayou, particularly on songs like the aforementioned “Livin’ Out A Suitcase” and “Nobody Wants To Be Lonely,” the latter of which has the artist crooning about the elderly sitting at nursing homes around the country with no family wanting or able to keep in touch or care for them. It’s a topic that Finley doesn’t just sing about from the studio, though. He visits nursing homes in his community on a regular basis to serenade its residents.
“So many people have been forgotten,” says Finley. “Their kids drop them off and go on with their lives. I go down occasionally and perform at the old folks home in Bernice. Just take my guitar and play for 30 minutes or so, try to get them to dance, try to bring some joy to them.”
Whether in those homes or the local clubs, Finley is determined to use his platform to give back to the community that made him. In addition to never turning down a conversation or photo op, he also aims to lift up the next generation of musicians, offering support and guidance to those cutting their teeth and in need of a role model as they pursue their own musical dreams.
“I always go back whenever I’m not on tour, simply because that’s where I got my start,” says Finley. “It also gives me a chance to encourage the young artists there to pursue their dreams, because I can share how I started busking over there on the corner eight years ago and now I’m touring the world. Had I not made that first step, then nobody would even know what I was capable of doing.”
As listeners have come to expect from Finley, Black Bayou is full of lust, love, spirituality, and humor as well. Tunes like “Sneakin’ Around,” “Miss Kitty,” and “Can’t Blame Me For Trying” showcase Finley’s flamboyant and flirtatious side, which goes hand in hand with his center-stage shimmying and shaking at live shows. On the flip side, cuts like the swampy album closer, “Alligator Bait,” unravels as a spoken word recollection of a formative day on the bayou with his grandfather with a gnarly and always evolving backbeat oozing with attitude.
Together these stories make a patchwork quilt of sounds, emotions, and stories that only Finley could piece together. Calling into his North Louisiana home, we spoke with Finley — our November Artist of the Month — in detail about Black Bayou, making music with his family, the similarities between performing and preaching, and more.
What has busking taught you about performing and holding an audience’s attention?
I’ve learned that you don’t need to put all of your eggs in one basket. I’m always trying to shake it up and introduce new things to the crowd at my shows, because no matter how good a movie is, if you watch it two or three times you’re going to know exactly what happens next. It doesn’t mean it’s not a great movie, it just means you’re not going to watch something that you already know the result of. I don’t want to rehearse and be programmed to do the same thing over and over, I need to have the freedom of the spirit of the moment.
Your daughter Christy Johnson and granddaughter LaQuindrelyn McMahon both joined you on this record. What’s it mean to you to share your love for music with them?
It’s great being able to have three generations of Finleys singing together. I’ve always admired Pop Staples and The Staple Singers for him and his daughters. I have two other daughters as well, but they both work in the medical field and can’t just uproot and follow me around the world. My oldest is a licensed beautician, but put it on hold to help me pursue my career due to my sight being bad. She saw that I was determined to do it either way, so she sacrificed hers to make sure I wasn’t alone. Because of that I want to share the spotlight with her every chance I get.
She first came on during the audition process for America’s Got Talent, which was her introduction to the world. The label loved her so much that they were willing to use her on the albums. Soon we needed a second background singer, so I let Dan [Auerbach] know about my granddaughter. He and the label were immediately supportive and have been willing to [incorporate] as much of my family as possible into my career. This is mostly just me trying to open a gateway for them, because they have the potential to be bigger and better successes than me. Or at least it won’t take them 69 years to get discovered.
You’re often referred to as a bluesman, but Black Bayou could also just as easily be described as a gospel album. What are your thoughts on the dynamic between the two genres and how you’re able to tie them together on the record?
The only difference between the gospel and the blues is really the choice of words you use. The same music that you hear in the club is being played in the church and the same music that we grew up on in the church is being played in the clubs. The only difference is that if you want blues you sing “oh baby” and if you want gospel you sing “oh lord.” Other than that, a lot of the rhythms and dances are the same.
What’re your thoughts on continuing to make this type of music in the modern age?
I don’t even look at it as gospel or blues anymore. I look at it as just saying the truth. Regardless of what you’re going through, there’s someone else who’s somewhere who’s been through the same thing. The fact that they made it through gives hope that you can do it, too.
As artists, we’re blessed with fans that will pay to come see you and even take your advice home with them. The same people who go to church will not remember a thing the preacher talked about, but if they like your song they’ll remember it word for word. If you’re really trying to reach people, you’ve got a better chance to reach a lot more folks by singing than you would preaching. Nobody wants to listen to an hour and a half or two hour sermon, but they will stay around a concert for an encore. That’s why it’s so important when you have the world’s attention to tell them something positive with it.
It almost sounds like you view yourself performing on stage like a minister preaching from the pulpit?
That’s it. I can get a bigger crowd than the average preacher even though church is always free, but even then people will flock to the clubs. I’ve also sang “Amazing Grace” in nightclubs and had people put down their glasses, sing-a-long, and go to church with me. You just don’t know what people will do. Everyone’s going through something. If you stop the church people from going to the club then the club will shut down, because most of the people frequenting there are church folks from the other side of town. The problem is that while there they’re not getting the truth. They’re getting the water, but not the wine.
There’s not a better song on the album that ties these influences together than the aptly named “Gospel Blues.” Are you hypothesizing what you’ll do in heaven on it?
I’m trying to tell people not to be so judgmental. That’s why I sing, “I do drink a little whiskey, and I’ll take a little shot of wine” – because it’s better to be real with people than to try and fool them. Whether I have some whiskey [or not] isn’t going to have anything to do with whether or not I go to heaven or hell.
Another song I’ve been captivated by is “Alligator Bait.” Is that a true story?
That song was actually designed more or less as a joke. I never met my grandfather on either side, but I did hear stories when I was sitting around with my dad and his brothers about things like that. It seemed like I had a cruel, cruel grandfather, but that wasn’t the message I was trying to convey. I was trying to prove that any song where you think you’re right needs to be like you just read a novel. It needs to tell a story. It’s more about being a convincing writer than deceiving.
On the cover of Black Bayou is the pond that I used to swim in and got baptized in. For a while it’s just been deserted, but we went back there, because it conjured up a lot of those childhood memories. Even just standing there taking photos my mind flashed back to the things we used to do there like swimming on one end and fishing on the other. Us jumping in the water would scare the fish over to the other side where they could get caught easier, which in many ways is similar to how the alligator is lured in the song.
What has music taught you about yourself?
It’s helped me to find and be myself. I used to try imitating everyone from James Brown to Ray Charles, but soon I realized that the only person I could be the best version of was myself. Nobody can beat you being you. If you just be yourself then you’re automatically different from everybody else anyway. Being real with myself and my music has opened so many doors for me, because of that.
Alynda Segarra, creative and frontperson extraordinaire of Hurray for the Riff Raff, has announced a brand new album for the Americana/indie folk-rock group that they have spearheaded for now more than 15 years. The Past Is Still Alive (out February 23, 2024 on Nonesuch Records) was heralded last week with a new music video – watch above. “Alibi” showcases a tender, more subdued, and more country-fied sound following the anger and passion of 2022’s LIFE ON EARTH. Segarra has always made their home directly in American roots music, even while they and their ensemble have played most often in its fringes and margins. The Past Is Still Alive feels a bit like a return to the bread-and-butter genre aesthetics that first launched HFTRR into the upper, superlative reaches of indie Americana.
The Past Is Still Alive also showcases Segarra’s incredible talent for processing and displaying all of the beautiful and hideous facets of grief and loss – this time, losses and griefs much more personal than those highlighted on recent albums and songs.
“The Past Is Still Alive is an album grappling with time, memory, love and loss, recorded in Durham, NC a month after losing my father,” Segarra explains via press release. “‘Alibi’ is a plea, a last ditch effort to get through to someone you already know you’re gonna lose. It’s a song to myself, to my father, almost fooling myself because I know what’s done is done. But it feels good to beg. A reckoning with time and memory. The song is exhausted with loving someone so much it hurts. Addiction separates us. With memories of the Lower East Side in the early 2000s of my childhood, mixed with imagery of the endless West that calls to artists and wanderers.”
Even with subject matter as heart-stopping and human as this, it’s difficult to anticipate this new album with anything other than excitement. Segarra is a master of transparent vulnerability, painting and evoking with their queerness, their identity, their cultural background in ways that complicate internalized narratives and stereotypes – while also contextualizing all of these intellectual explorations in a down-to-earth, everyday fashion. That The Past Is Still Alive will engage this sort of exploration within country, Americana, and string band sounds – however experimental or mainstream or “normative” or genre-blending – adds up perfectly.
Earlier this week renowned guitarist, producer, and engineer John Leventhal announced his debut album, Rumble Strip, to be released on RumbleStrip Records, a label founded with his wife and collaborator Rosanne Cash that will be distributed by Thirty Tigers. Yes, you read that right, a man known for his nearly 50-year, multi-hyphenate career in roots music is releasing his first ever proper solo album. Leventhal made the announcement with the release of two tracks, an instrumental guitar piece entitled “JL’s Hymn No. 2” and a gritty, rockin’ Americana duet with Cash called “That’s All I Know About Arkansas.”
“JL’s Hymn No. 2” showcases the guitar prowess that has made Leventhal such an in-demand sideman and session player across his entire career. On both of these tracks, his playing reminds of such country and roots renaissance men as Marty Stuart, Buddy Miller, David Bromberg, and Larry Williams with each of his constituent musical skills – as engineer, producer, and picker – on full display. “That’s All I Know About Arkansas” is like a post-modern “brother” duet, with Cash stepping into the role of Buddy’s Julie Miller, or Larry’s Theresa Williams, bolstering and supporting her musical- and life-partner in a touching and artistically successful role reversal for the pair. You can hear the passion they have for each other’s music, for each being members of each other’s “bands.”
With a resume and career as exhaustive and expansive as Leventhal’s, it’s remarkable that he’s only reached this pivotal, “debut” milestone at this late-stage point. And, more remarkable still, is that Rumble Strip is clearly another opportunity for Leventhal to challenge himself, break new ground, experiment with new sounds and textures, and continue to grow, morph, and develop as a quintessential musician-producer. It’s engaging and exciting to hear him turn his studio control room magnifying glass onto his own music, his own record.
Rumble Strip will be released on January 26. Enjoy these two tracks from the project now, right here on BGS.
Photo Credit: Wes Bender
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