Anna Tivel Makes Poetry in Music From Poetry in Nature

There is something woodsy and nature-rooted about Anna Tivel’s songwriting. It calls to mind mountain hiking, tall pines, mushroom foraging. The clink of a water bottle against a caribiner. The gentle tiptoe sound of dew dropping from treetops. Maybe it’s Oregon that’s seeped into her bones. Maybe it’s just the way her intrinsic poeticism steers things.

Listening to Tivel’s music tends to conjure the words of other writers. Consider some of the final lines from Barbara Kingsolver’s Prodigal Summer:

“Solitude is only a human presumption. Every quiet step is thunder to beetle life underfoot; every choice is a world made new for the chosen.”

Or, consider the poetry of Wendell Berry or Mary Oliver or Andrea Gibson. Each seemed to have plucked their pieces from shrubs and vines – or at least from the air around their foliage. Indeed, some of these names came up in our recent conversation with Tivel about her new album, Animal Poem, which drops August 29 on Fluff & Gravy Records.

Much like a walk through the woods, Animal Poem offers listeners a pathway toward retaining their humanity in a world that can feel inhumane. Though Tivel notes she began writing this album two years ago, she was conscious of the shifting geopolitical landscape and the way the chaos in the news might – or might not – echo into people’s private lives.

In the end, she suggests that life is mostly made of small moments between people who are guided by love and who are trying to understand one another. Those are the moments of dissonance where our commonalities have the best chance of prevailing. To hear Tivel tell it, that is the basis of her job as both poet and songwriter.

With so much going on in the world geopolitically, so many people are struggling with how to make art and why to make art and, of course, feeling compelled to continue to make art. But there’s this existential part of it that I feel like you’re addressing on this album. Maybe also in the creation of this album, which I’m guessing was recorded well before what’s happening today, and will be different from what will be happening when we publish it.

So, when you think about this album now, and what you were working through with these songs in that moment, how has it aged in your mind?

Anna Tivel: That’s funny, I was thinking today how, in this particular year so far, I’m having trouble [writing songs]. I’m having a lot of trouble finding the core of what I mean. I always feel like writing is this search for something a little beyond your understanding. You’re just moving through the world kind of trying to express what you see and what you’re learning and what you’re reaching for. And I’ve been finding, in this particular moment, it’s just so loud and it’s so tangled. I’m writing a lot of angry things that I will never play, [about] not understanding and not even knowing what to reach for to try to understand.

This album was all written like two years ago now, in a state of the world not dissimilar from this one. I was reading a lot of Wendell Berry and just thinking about big, overarching systems and how impossible it is for those to stay about people. [I was thinking] about the earth and kind of thinking about how these smaller communities … function and how things ripple outward. But, the really small things, like your family or your neighborhood. Power lies in these very mundane but magical lives we’re living. How we’re touching the person across the street from us or how we’re figuring out our own hearts, and how powerful that is in the overarching, huge system that [can] become very inhumane so easily.

I think there’s a lot of that there – a lot of love and immense, wild power. All these things are coming out of the technological wavelength that we’re on. And then things like love [that] just can’t be snuffed out.

As you were talking about what we’re reaching for, and the small things, I kept thinking about this image at the end of this record, in the song “Meantime.” The swing set that nobody used and this family that, maybe there was abuse, but the dad built the swing set. Nobody went out to play on it, and they left, and the swing was still there, blowing in the wind.

A swing doesn’t know what it’s reaching, but it’s always there to lift you. What a beautiful thesis that it is for this record, coming as it does, at the end. Can you talk a little bit about that song, “Meantime,” and your decision to place it second to last? Does it feel to you like that’s what this record was reaching toward? I’m always interested in how sequencing tells the story.

Sometimes [sequencing] is really just meaning-based, or it’s sort of sonically based. I really liked the idea of this record kind of starting with this song that expands as much as the whole country. And then going all the way down to the last song, [which] is just very quiet, about love between two people, or what it is to build the language of love with the people nearest to you. I like there to be some kind of journey on a record, where you’re taken through different stories and different lives, for there to be some sort of arc.“Meantime,” to me, feels [like] that’s what I’m trying to say, but it takes place in a very small image. It’s one neighbor. There’s always a lot of neighbors in my music. [I’m a] very voyeuristic neighbor, probably.

There’s this feeling on the record, I think, that we hold all these things and we’re contributing to all these things – such pain and also such beauty. And we’re all sort of trying to separate ourselves from each other [and] from these big forces.

You can recognize yourself in everything, both the good and the bad. But inside of me is so much love and there’s so much cruelty and so much confusion. And becoming part of a family or a community – or a global community – it’s almost like the deeper you [go,] the more you recognize that you are just like everybody. You hold all those things and they hold all those things, even if they feel ugly or small or huge or powerful, they’re in there.

You’re reminding me of the poem by the late, brilliant Andrea Gibson. When I first heard their line, I actually thought of you. And then listening to this album, it came back to me.

The line is, “Do you know how many beautiful things can be seen in a single second?” It’s from the poem, “In the Chemo Room…” It’s thoughts from chemo, which is such a hopeless, awful thing, theoretically. And yet, all of Andrea’s work is so full of hope. I feel like that is so true to what this album conjured for me. I’m wondering if you have any kind of relationship with their poetry or if you were even aware of that parallel.

Yeah, I wish. I wanna take it in, because my good friends in Portland were just telling me to go read their work. I haven’t yet, but I resonate a lot with that. Like, you can just look all around you and see horror upon horror. [But] we are stunningly alive. Full of love and mystery, all at the same time. You’d die if you couldn’t hold that. You can kind of lean in either direction, or you can kind of like just sit there in all directions at once. That’s the journey of the whole thing.

While I’m bringing up poets, you mentioned Wendell Berry. One of my other favorite lines is from him: “Be joyful though you’ve considered all the facts,” Right? Like, this whole idea that we are animals among animals on this planet. Everything’s brutal – and there’s joy. And there’s love, you know. This is such a vital part of what every poet says, right?

There’s a song on here called “Animal Poem,” but the fact that you chose that phrase as the title of the album seemed to resonate. What was it about, to you, to choose those two words as the title of this project?

It’s exactly that. I feel very much like I want to be another being on the earth [who is] trying to express all those things at once, that everybody’s feeling, going through, and finding ways to say to each other.

There’s so many ways that we hold the word “animal”: Wild, untethered, maybe dangerous, maybe instinct[ive], maybe disturbing. … A poem is such an intentional, beautiful way to capture a small part of being. I like the idea that maybe this whole thing is just [us] running around confused, trying to find a little beauty, in what often appears to be utter chaos.

But where is the line, in your mind, between poetry and music? Is there any difference? Is it something intrinsic to the piece? Or, how do you decide what gets music added and what stays a poem?

Yeah, maybe I just think it all comes from the same place – the raw urge to express something. The way that music, or any art form, allows you to express it a little more honestly, because it’s not so straightforward.

When you can live outside the exact facts and use all the colors and the sensory details and emotion of a thing, sometimes that feels more true than being like, “Ted went to the store and bought an egg.” You know? There’s all the other things that happened in that moment that informed the way Ted’s heart was moving, that can be more readily got-at with art. There’s all these ways that people do that.

Ted’s egg was actually quite an experience for him.

Yeah, I mean, why did he go for just one egg? That’s my question.

There’s only one egg left. Poor Ted.

Logistically, when it came to making this record, you noted that it was a group of people in a room just kind of playing together. Was there rehearsal? How many times did everybody else hear these songs? And what was the creative process in that circle?

It was really free. I loved making this record. It felt, to me, like a bunch of freedom. Hearts in a room, just having our thing.
Some of us had toured together a little bit, so we played some of these songs in various ways. Some were new. We sort of just sat and played together for a day or two beforehand. We tried really hard not to make parts. [We were] really trying to at least get comfortable with the forms, so you know where the bridge lives, so it doesn’t surprise you. But [we didn’t do] so much that people settled into things.

Then we just sat in a circle. We didn’t wear headphones, which I loved, and we put my voice through a little monitor in the middle of the room. I’m fairly quiet, so everyone could at least hear the words. We mixed ourselves and just played music in the room together. There was no turning yourself up in the headphones or adding reverb. It just was what it was.

That felt really free. It felt like we forgot we were making a record. Just trying to feel the thing in the moment. I love this group of people. I’ve done a lot of touring with [them] over the years. [I’ve] known them a long time and really respect their musicality, but also their spirits.


Photo courtesy of the artist.

BGS 5+5: Bonnie & the Mere Mortals

Artist: Bonnie & the Mere Mortals
Hometown: Avella, Pennsylvania
Latest Album: Take Me to the Moon (available August 29, 2025)
Personal Nicknames (or rejected band names): I get Bonald a lot. Bon Bon, Bonners, Bonnie Romano.

What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?

Two years ago for our Halloween show, I looked out in the crowd and saw a complete stranger scream-singing along for the first time. As an artist, I constantly question what I’m doing. This is a hard path we’ve chosen that can beat you down a lot, but you can’t fabricate that moment. You’ve reached someone, you touched their lives in some way. I’ve since had that experience dozens of times and have even gotten to do a Bonnie & the Mere Mortals tattoo on a fan, but you never forget your first.

What other art forms – literature, film, dance, painting, etc. – inform your music?

I truly think the difference between art forms is no wider than the difference of medium: oil or watercolor? Everything is how you choose to express your idea. I have a literature degree and I grew up in an abandoned coal town; I wanted to make music the way Southern Gothic writers like Michael McDowell made me feel. Southern Gothic is often seen as just slow Americana in a minor key, but I wanted to expand that thinking to include my experience growing up in a Southern Gothic tableau. I also dress up like a drag queen because I want the Mere Mortals to be as visual as we are musical. Our presentation is always firmly tongue-in-cheek because every murder ballad has a punch line and I never think you should take yourself that seriously.

What’s the most difficult creative transformation you’ve ever undertaken?

When I was growing up, it was the golden age of pop-country. Miss Shania Twain, Garth, the Chicks? Everywhere. I grew up on the values of Hank and “Raise Hell, Praise Dale.” Post 9/11 though, I really started to resent my upbringing. I discovered the Cure, Queen, and Bowie, and put aside Ralph Stanley. I moved to the city, came out as queer, and started a metal band. I never truly felt fulfilled though. I felt I had to hide a part of myself that made up so much of my character.

It wasn’t until I heard Gillian Welch for the first time that I started to dive back into myself and realized that I wasn’t really making art authentically. I bought a banjo and started to learn clawhammer. I rediscovered so many loves I had put aside and I began to feel myself again. I realized that what I loved about the Smiths was the same thing I loved about Jason Isbell, and I couldn’t see why they shouldn’t go together. Some of my folks couldn’t understand the transition, but they certainly do now.

What would a perfect day as an artist and creator look like to you?

Film an episode of The Muppets as a special guest and then head over to Dolly’s house to cook her a pasta dinner.

If you didn’t work in music, what would you do instead?

My day job for the last 15 years has been working as a tattoo artist. I co-own a shop in Pittsburgh called the Kindred Spirit Tattoo Co. It can be hard making it as an artist on both sides of the sun, but I feel so grateful I get to do two things I love so much.


Photo Credit: Veronica Baron

The Must-See Bands and Artists of Earl Scruggs Music Festival 2025

We’ve said it before, we’ll say it again: Earl Scruggs Music Festival is a one-of-a-kind event. BGS is incredibly excited to return for our fourth consecutive year of partnership with ESMF. As we’re packing our bags for Mill Spring, North Carolina, and making our festival plans and short lists we can’t wait to be back in the foothills on Earl Scruggs’ home turf celebrating bluegrass, old-time, country, and Americana of the highest order.

Held each year over Labor Day weekend at the gorgeous and luxurious Tryon International Equestrian Center, ESMF is co-presented by Tryon International, the Earl Scruggs Music Center – located just down the road in Shelby, the county seat near Earl’s hometown of Boiling Springs – and WNCW. This year, headliners include the Wood Brothers, the War and Treaty, Alison Krauss & Union Station, the Del McCoury Band, and a very special performance by the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band to wrap up the stellar weekend. Of course, there’s plenty more amazing music from across the roots music spectrum set for the weekend, too (see the lineup below), plus plenty of great workshops and panels, jam sessions, and more.

The BGS team spends a lot of time attending, programming for, and covering roots music festivals, so it takes a lot for events to stand out from the crowd. With their lovely grounds, thoughtful footprint, excellent vendors, eclectic and traditional lineup, and all of the many connections this event has – with the Scruggs family, the surrounding area, and the artful communities of North Carolina, South Carolina, and the entire Appalachian and Southeastern region – ESMF continues to raise the bar for bluegrass festivals.

Below, check out a quick list of bands, musicians, and artists we can’t wait to catch at Earl Scruggs Music Festival this year. And make plans to join us – whether this year or in the future! – at one of the most enjoyable bluegrass festivals on the scene today.

Shawn Camp & Verlon Thompson: Songs & Stories of Guy Clark 

It’s always a treat when these two longtime collaborators and co-writers get together to pay tribute to their friend, mentor, and hero, the late great Guy Clark. As evidenced by this Suwannee Springfest video from 15 years ago, Camp and Thompson have been performing their Songs & Stories of Guy Clark show in some format for quite a while now, but this feels like a particularly timely chance to catch the pair performing from their repertoire of co-writes with Clark and sharing stories of their times collaborating and creating with the songwriting legend. Camp’s upcoming album, The Ghost of Sis Draper, features songs that he wrote with Clark – including one also penned with Thompson – and revisits the fantastic based-on-a-true-story narrative of a folk hero fiddler by the name of Sis Draper. We can’t wait to catch Camp, Thompson, and as many Sis Draper songs as possible.

Saturday, August 20, Silver Spoon Saloon, 12 pm to 1 pm, “The Silver Spoon Sessions with Craig Havighurst”
Saturday, August 30, Foggy Mountain Stage, 6 pm to 7 pm.


Allison de Groot & Tatiana Hargreaves

These days, sometimes the best bluegrass you can find is old-time. This incredible duo often falls into that category directly, with endless drive, expansive pocket, and a penchant for listening, responding, and following each other that’s nearly familial. We’ve caught de Groot & Hargreaves shows countless times and still never tire of these two instrumentalists, singers, and writers unspooling musical moments together and reweaving them in realtime. Though de Groot hails from Canada and Hargreaves grew up in the Pacific Northwest, this is one of ESMF’s acts whose music, and the traditions that have made it, is most deeply rooted in this lush artistic region of the world – Western North Carolina.

Saturday, August 30, Legends Stage, 9 am to 10:30 am, “Bluegrass Over Easy Breakfast.”
Saturday, August 30, Foggy Mountain Stage, 2 pm to 3 pm. 


Healing the Hollers featuring Unspoken Tradition

Western North Carolina-based bluegrass band Unspoken Tradition will host a special livestream and concert at ESMF on Saturday, August 30, featuring performances by Josh Goforth, Lance Mills, Laura Boosinger, Nest of Singing Birds, Zoe & Cloyd, and more. Healing the Hollers will shine a spotlight on the impacts and devastation of Hurricane Helene and the ongoing efforts of folks in the region – like each of the artists and bands on the show bill – to keep rebuilding their communities, neighborhoods, hollers, and homes. BGS is proud to be promoting Healing the Hollers, as well, and we’ll even be carrying the livestream of the set on our Facebook page. There’s plenty of work still to be done to heal and move forward after Hurricane Helene, but with a roster of artists like these and a community like that which surrounds ESMF, we know we’ll all get it done together. That’s the exact kind of Resilience Unspoken Tradition are talking about on their brand new album – which we hope we’ll hear from during Healing the Hollers, too.

Saturday, August 30, Foggy Mountain Stage, 3:30 pm to 5 pm. Stream live on Facebook.


Bronwyn Keith-Hynes

Oh, the places she’ll go! Award-winning fiddler, singer, and songwriter Bronwyn Keith-Hynes has not slowed down for a moment since her time in Molly Tuttle’s GRAMMY-winning ensemble, Golden Highway, came to a close earlier this summer. She’s got a packed tour schedule of sold-out or nearly sold-out dates across the country, rapidly building an engaged and energetic fan base behind her style of jamgrass built on a trad foundation. It feels like, in many ways, we’ve gotten to watch Keith-Hynes “grow up” as an individual artist so each time we get a chance to catch her band live, we enjoy marking the leaps and bounds she’s taken since the last time. She’s sure to impress and inspire yet again – and who knows what impeccable pickers she’ll have out on the road with her, too!

Saturday, August 30, Foggy Mountain Stage, 7:45 pm to 9 pm. 


Alison Krauss & Union Station Ft. Jerry Douglas

If you haven’t gotten to catch Alison Krauss & Union Station on their most extensive headlining tour in nearly fifteen years, Earl Scruggs Music Festival is your chance! With just over four weeks left in their continent-spanning Arcadia Tour, we’re the lucky ones for being able to catch the iconic band and their iconic songs at Tryon International. Social media videos from the tour show quite a few fan favorite tracks have made the set list alongside the bevy of new material from their brand new album, Arcadia. Veteran bluegrass picker and vocalist Russell Moore, who was just tapped this year to join the group, is certainly holding his own on this gig of a lifetime. We can’t wait for our evening with AKUS in North Carolina!

Saturday, August 30, Flint Hill Stage, 9 pm to 10:30 pm. 

(Alison Krauss & Union Station were our Artist of the Month in April. Explore our exclusive coverage here.)


Nitty Gritty Dirt Band

Heartbroken that the one and only Nitty Gritty Dirt Band are on their farewell tour at the moment? Us too! With only a handful of dates left in their All The Good Times: The Farewell Tour, the existential woe is creeping in fast. The best way to stave off the end-of-an-era scaries is to be there at ESMF for their headlining set, the culmination not only of a superlative festival weekend, but of a decades-spanning career of a seminal string band who took Earl Scruggs’ legacy places it wouldn’t have ever gone without them. There could be no better way to cap the main stage at Earl Scruggs Music Festival this year than with NGDB. Of all the “must-see” happenings at this year’s event, this set is truly top of the list. Once in a lifetime occurrences happen every year at ESMF.

Sunday, August 31, Flint Hill Stage, 7:45 pm to 9:15 pm.


Sister Sadie

You have not one but two chances not to miss this bluegrass supergroup at Earl Scruggs Music Festival this year. Fresh off the release of their new album, All Will Be Well, Sister Sadie are sounding better than ever – and these are IBMA Award-winning veterans, right here. Their new album is full of emotion, contemplation, and redemption while at the same time it’s just… plain fun. They strike a deft balance between heartfelt songwriting, gut-wrenching narratives, hair-raising harmonies, and bluegrass virtuosity that will make you hoot, holler, and dance. We can’t ever get enough of Sister Sadie, so you may catch us on the barricade for both of their ESMF appearances.

Friday, August 29, Flint Hill Stage, 5 pm to 6:30 pm.
Friday, August 29, Foggy Mountain Stage, 10 pm to 11:30 pm.

(Sister Sadie were our Artist of the Month in July. Catch up on our AOTM content here.)


Watchhouse

When you’ve been on the roots music beat like we have for more than 12 years, festival season isn’t just about festivals – it’s like a mobile family reunion. We can’t wait to reunite with our old pals Andrew and Emily – and in North Carolina, too! – for Watchhouse at ESMF. Like Earl Scruggs himself, Watchhouse carefully and intentionally synthesize so many different textures and inspirations from North Carolinian folk music through their own creativity and songcraft, creating something totally brand new that’s still deeply rooted in tradition and the region. That’s just one small reason why they’re a perfect lineup selection for this amazing festival. We’re geared up and ready to hear new music from their new album, Rituals, during the weekend. See you there!

Sunday, August 31, Silver Spoon Saloon, 3:30 pm to 4:30 pm, “The Silver Spoon Sessions with Craig Havighurst”
Sunday, August 31, Flint Hill Stage, 6 pm to 7:15 pm.

(Watchhouse were our Artist of the Month in June of this year. Dive into more on their new album here.)

The Wood Brothers

Blending blues, Southern rock, alt-country, and jam band music, the Wood Brothers have an eclectic and often psychedelic approach to roots music that’s all their own. They pop up along the roots music genre spectrum with ease at every waypoint, from string band folk to grungy, hard rock and roll – like the most exciting game of musical aesthetic whack-a-mole you’ll ever play. There’s something for every kind of listener in the Wood Brothers’ catalog of music and their brand new albumPuff of Smoke, is as entrancing and diverting as ever. We’ll be camped out in the grandstand for this set, for sure!

Friday, August 29, Flint Hill Stage, 9 pm to 10:30 pm. 

02_Inlay_Grass

These bands and artists listed above are truly just the tip of the iceberg for everything that’s going on this year at Earl Scruggs Music Festival. You also won’t want to miss Town Mountain, Sam Bush, Sierra Hull, the John Hartford Fiddle Tune Project, Tony Trischka’s EarlJam, Fireside Collective, the Earls of Leicester, the Del McCoury Band, and still many more.

Check out the full schedule of panels, chats, performances, and acts here on the ESMF website and make plans to join us this year or in the future in Mill Spring, North Carolina, for a lovely weekend of bluegrass and roots music.


Lead image: Tanya Tucker performs on the Flint Hill Stage during ESMF 2024, shot by Jess Maples.

Basic Folk: Paul Brady

Bob Dylan once called Paul Brady a “secret hero” and meant it as a compliment. The Irish songwriting legend has not been bothered by the fact that his profile has not risen as high as some of his peers. Starting off in the world of traditional Irish music, Brady spent time in the hugely influential Irish group Planxty until they disbanded in 1975. After that, he and bandmate Andy Irvine recorded a record of trad music together. In 1981, Brady released an album of original songs titled Hard Station that was based on his experience of growing up during The Troubles in Northern Ireland. It was a huge left turn for him stylistically and in being so personal with his writing. After that, Brady’s songwriting career took off; he has written songs for Bonnie Raitt, Santana, Tina Turner, and many others.

LISTEN: APPLE • SPOTIFY • AMAZON • MP3

In our Basic Folk conversation, Brady reflects on his upbringing and how music served as his reliable companion. He also discusses his parents’ artistic influences, particularly his father’s passion for acting and how it shaped his own stage performances. We touch on themes of perfectionism, impostor syndrome, and the inherent pressures of the music industry. Additionally, Paul talks about his latest massive box set, The Archive, which features rare demos, live recordings, and unique collaborations, offering a comprehensive look at his extensive body of work.


Photo Credit: Stuart Bailie

Gimme That Old-Time
Non-Monogamy

At times frowned upon or occasionally slandered, covers are as deep-rooted as the songs and the emerald valleys that have produced them.

Indeed, covers stir discussion, spark research, and add another patch to the great heart-sewn embroidery of music. Fashioned in a similar vein to the original – that’s flattery. When a song circles across genre divides, well, that’s an enriching voyage.

The members of Kissing Other pplRachel Baiman and folk duo Viv & Riley – see their endeavor not just as an individual artistic sojourn but as a larger opportunity to establish a collective conversation. Here, they’ve taken a handful of mostly rock and pop songs and blended, marinated, and sautéed them in unfamiliar flavors. The end results turned out nearer to their own identities.

“I grew up playing traditional Appalachian style,” said Riley. “This is not that!”

Baiman is a sincere and dogged lyricist, with a harmonious ear and a top contender’s punch. She grew up in Chicago, with a factory-made violin in her hands and an insatiable curiosity for why and how music could conform and contort to her swiftly evolving moods. Somewhere along the line, she started getting serious about music and purchased a John Silakowski five-string fiddle on a lengthy installment plan. She arrived in Nashville at age 18, riding fragile finances. Slogging on foot, lugging her fiddle in a hard, cumbersome case, she lacked the extra dollars to hail a taxi. Her odd jobs were many: dog walking; catering; reading novels and writing summaries for a sociology professor; she once even held a job organizing a comedy contest. But a fearless, tenacious sense of purpose compelled her to stick with music.

Pondering all of these circumstances in her heart, Baiman released several persuasive projects, including Shame (2017) and Common Nation of Sorrow (2023). Riley Calcagno, one half of the contemplative folk duo Viv & Riley, added stringed support and pre-production assets to one of Rachel’s albums.

Subsequently, Baiman asked Riley and Vivian Leva (the other half of the duo) if they’d be willing to join her on tour, where long hours on the road were spent in between gigs consuming, swapping, and contemplating music. Baiman’s traditional background taught her how to fully perceive a recording – whether an old fiddle tune or multi-generational, passed down ballad, or even a contemporary pop song – to not only hear it superficially, but to visualize its promise. Through prolonged stretches of asphalt and expressway, she’d oftentimes wonder what she, if given the opportunity, could bring to a certain song.

 

@kissing.other.ppl♬ original sound – kissingotherpplband

“The idea stems from Rachel’s musical generosity and curiosity and the extended times in those van rides,” said Riley. “Eventually, the songs included were the ones that we’d all individually had been listening to and were moved by. Songs that had stopped us in our tracks at different realms of our lives. Songs that hit us emotionally or otherwise… spontaneously contributed in the week that we recorded them.”

Some of Riley’s earliest memories are of his father’s fondness of traditional music. His father played the guitar, fiddle, mandolin, and banjo. At age 3, the younger Calcagno expressed interest in the fiddle. Though he was raised in an unrelentingly urban environment in the heart of Seattle he was never far from the folksy hospitality of music: square dances, jams, and potlucks. At the Wintergrass Music Festival in Bellevue, Washington, he formed connections with musicians originating from the sparsest, most countrified swaths of the state.

“I discovered an authentic-feeling bluegrass scene in the state and an old-time rural music scene on the West Coast that was kept going by people living in cities,” he explained, “and I don’t see that at all as contradictory.”

Like many other kids his age who grew up in Seattle, beginning in middle school, Riley burned liberal hours listening to local indie rock, though the attachment he had made with traditional music would override all else. He met Vivian Leva at a music camp in the Seattle area which emphasized the cultural importance of preserving long-standing traditions.

“I was a fan of Viv’s parents’ music,” said Riley. “We started playing music right away. Viv is a gifted songwriter. We started passing ideas back and forth. That was eight years ago.”

Vivian Leva was born and raised in Lexington, Virginia, in the Shenandoah Valley close to the abounding cultural and geographical influences of Charlottesville, Roanoke, and the Blue Ridge Mountains. It’s a small town with a deep worship of bluegrass and old-time narratives.

“Before I was born, it was a big hub of old-time traditional music,” said Viv. “Young people moved here for the rich, blossoming scene. My dad came here at 18 and stayed forever.”

Viv’s father, too, took a particular interest in the fiddle, traveling to neighboring counties and states to observe and jam. Her mother sang and guitar-picked, emulating and scrutinizing the local and regional ballads she had fallen in love with. They attended old-time fiddler’s conventions as a family. And when her parents formed a duo and headed out on the highway, sometimes she would share in such jaunts first-hand.

“When I was little I went on tour with them for a bit,” said Viv. “As a teenager, I was playing in my dad’s bands. As a kid he would bring me up to sing a song on stage.”

Certainly, music has long filled the souls of Rachel, Viv, and Riley with good things – and Kissing Other ppl is a remembrance of affection as much as it is a representation of impression. Indeed, Baiman said that Kissing Other ppl is a natural extension of her – and her counterparts’ – inquisitiveness, their attempt to understand the mysterious processes of expression, meaning, and memory.

“In reality,” said Rachel, “I don’t think any band or musical project should attempt monogamy, because you miss out on so many opportunities to learn and grow and bring new inspiration back to your main role.”

Similar to Rachel, Viv finds original songwriting to be a sacred, mysterious place to dwell. But she also believes that covers are a part of the whole process of an artist’s maturity, the recognition of the music of one’s friends, mentors, neighbors, and across-the-board community.

“There can be a stigma about covers,” she said. “You can’t make it your own. You are not creative enough to make your own music. It’s a shortcut. It’s a cop out. But as someone who has written a lot of songs and released a lot of records of original music, and plans to do so in the future, I don’t see it that way. It is an acknowledgment of how being inspired by other people’s music is such an important part of creating your own music. You can’t make your own music in a vacuum.”

“Anytime that you are playing a song, you are creating it again in the moment, and re-interpreting in your own way,” added Riley. “Whether it is a cover or an old traditional song, you still have the power to sing it and do it in a way that really moves someone.”

Baiman said the intuitive, empathetic nature of the type of music she plays requires that she be an attentive observer as well as a cordial, broad-minded learner – prerequisites for a collaboration of this sort.

“I think that having a background in old-time and fiddle music in general really prepares you to be a musician who listens,” said Rachel. “If you approach any musical situation with the mindset of, ‘Can I do something to help support the group musically here?’, that goes a long way.

“Old-time really prepares you for the idea that your best contribution might be not to play at all. The bar is really high for joining in, you have to make sure you’re adding something that isn’t already there, and you’re not dragging down the groove. That’s part of the etiquette of informal jamming and it translates to professional playing.”

A fine cover such as the group’s rendition of Wilco’s “Ashes of American Flags” not only illuminates a previous desire, elevating or enriching it with brand new urgency, but in some fashion it obliges the total re-evaluation of the original.

“There are people who are not able to handle ‘Ashes of American Flags’ because of the context, or they come from a different generation, or they don’t like Jeff Tweedy singing it,” said Riley. “Why not give a song like that another chance or give it another life? If you have a song that’s fun, or one that hits hard, emotionally, lyrically, or harmonically, maybe you can add to it, instead of just burying it on a playlist.”

Riley notes that many of the greatest records and biggest chart sellers are in fact cover-centric productions, though they might not have been advertised or promoted as such at the time. Many great albums are rife with songs written by others, sometimes entire roomfuls of songwriters on Music Row. Many memorable albums, such as Bob Dylan’s 1962 self-titled debut, only have a small number of originals; among the traditional folk and blues arrangements, Dylan’s had but two.

Indeed, Kissing Other ppl simply builds on a long tradition of artists rearranging songs that they like and then reinserting them back into the public sphere of approval.

“We seem to be obsessed with originality in our current moment and society,” said Riley. “But we are also at a time when art and – the pursuit of it – is less funded and less valued monetarily than ever. So many of the great records that we love are cover records. Ours isn’t heavy-handed.”

Perhaps one sterling example of a cover album that marvelously nudged old material into fresh fields was Tim O’Brien’s Red on Blonde, on which O’Brien grabbed a handful of Dylan songs, tinkered with their framework, and dragged them into bluegrass brightness. Many of these songs have stuck around since the album’s release in 1996 and bluegrass buffs routinely call out titles such as “Señor (Tales of Yankee Power)” and “Farewell Angelina.”

One of the record’s most memorable tracks is a rendition of Jason Molina’s “Hold On Magnolia,” which draws out the spookily and eerily beautiful essence of the inscrutable artist’s mystifying original. Rachel’s fiddle punctuates the abstract stylishness with characteristic splendor and aplomb.

“Jason Molina [1973-2013] was one of the greatest songwriters,” said Riley. “He grew up in Lorain, Ohio, and he went to Oberlin College, where I went. He had a rough life and died of alcohol-related complications. He left so much amazing music behind… if even one person hears our version and goes and listens to his records then it is a job well done.”

Alluding to Molina, Viv noted the deferential nature of covers and their special reward.

“That’s the cool element of doing a record of covers,” she said. “You can inspire people with that special song that resonates and if they haven’t heard of that artist, they can go back and listen to their work.”

On both “Hold On Magnolia” and “Ashes of American Flags,” Viv found herself in the new position of playing the drums. She sensed the two songs required the presence of drums and their inclusion was inspired by her simple desire to test the unfamiliar.

“One of the incentives I had to go to guitar lessons when I was younger was that my teacher would let me play drums for the last ten minutes of the lesson,” said Viv. “During COVID, Riley surprised me with a drum kit. He got an electric guitar. We were having fun during the lockdown in our basement. We were doing less folk music, and experimenting with instruments outside of the immediate folk genre. So, I took a crack at it.”

“I think it is a testament to the spirit of making the record that we felt comfortable putting her on the drums,” added Riley. “[Producer] Greg D. Griffith made the snare drums sound huge and awesome, adding a big element to the tracks.”

One song that Viv introduced to the project was “Born to Lose” by Waylon Payne, and the diversity in these respective arrangements is startling: Payne’s original was supported by a complete country band; the new offering is sagaciously stripped down, extracting every syllable of bitterness, sorrow, self-loathing, and private turmoil from the lyrics.

“I had been particularly into this artist, Waylon Payne,” said Viv. “His vocals are really fascinating to me. His ornamentation is really incredible. I spent a lot of time trying to figure out what he was doing. I was definitely interested in trying to get his vocal ornaments similar, because I think that they are really beautiful.”

The spacey, moody “Where’d All the Time Go?” by Doctor Dog was another one of Rachel’s proposals.

“That is a fun song to do as a trio, because of its echoing harmony parts,” said Viv. “I would have never picked that song for myself to learn. That’s what made it challenging. It took me outside of my vocal comfort zone, and that was a fun challenge for me.”

The name of the band, Kissing Other ppl, is a teasing affirmation of one of the pop songs covered on the album, a soft, mischievous Lennon Stella song released in 2020.

“It has a fun and flirty vibe,” said Riley, “but it also gets to something funny and true about relationships. It captures the lightness of the experience of playing music and hanging out, and not taking yourself too seriously. It was Rachel’s idea and she stuck with it. It is awkward and funny, and why not? Life is short.”

Baiman said the namesake reveals a good-natured admittance of the diversionary quality of art.

“Coming from two different projects that are based in original music and collaborating on cover songs,” said Rachel, “we chose the band name as a playful nod to the idea that we were cheating on our own projects by trying something different and new.”

The trio intends to take their reincarnated versions on the road. Beyond that they have no fixed plans to continue – or, for that matter, discontinue – sewing and hemming their skills and interests together.

Indeed, sustained in its own special love and humility, kissing other ppl expresses not just innovative lyricism and beautiful buzzes, but a powerful sense of understanding. What Rachel, Viv, and Riley all agree on is that the genre or style of its communication is less important than the nourishing energy and want that necessitated its assembly.

“In the end, a lot of the songs are ambiguous,” said Viv. “It is hard to say exactly what some of the songs are about. We are not spelling out what you should be thinking or feeling. It’s just cool to see how other people are able to communicate things in totally different ways than how you would communicate them. But somehow it still hits you.”


Photos courtesy of the artist.

Eli West: Timber and Timbre

Eli West first rose to prominence in the acoustic music world as part of a duo with fellow singer-songwriter Cahalen Morrison. After creating three highly regarded albums together in the 2010s, West set off on his own. In 2016, he released The Both, featuring appearances by folks like Dori Freeman and Bill Frissell and on 2021’s well-received Tapered Point of Stone, West led a band that included Watchhouse’s Andrew Marlin and Clint Mullican and fiddler Christian Sedelmyer (Jerry Douglas Band).

This summer, the Seattle-based musician delivered his third solo album, The Shape of a Sway, where he is backed by his current sidemen, fiddler Patrick M’Gonigle and bassist Forest Marowitz, along with longtime collaborator Matt Flinner (mandolin, banjo) and an old college buddy, Peter Hatch (harmonium, piano).

West didn’t take a straight line to becoming a professional musician. Although he played violin and guitar growing up in the Pacific Northwest, he studied visual arts and political science in college. Then he headed east, where he went to timber framing schools in Vermont and Maine. Returning to Seattle, he got a job as a graphic designer.

Dissatisfied with his 9-to-5 existence, he quit his desk job after several years and went to Seattle’s Bainbridge Graduate Institute to study business. About halfway through, he realized business school wasn’t for him. It was around this time that West, who was getting more interested in bluegrass, met Morrison. He quickly decided to take a big leap and start playing and touring with Morrison. “My 30s were my 20s and it was awesome,” he shares with BGS. “And music was the means for that.”

West took some time to talk about his new album and his life while loading up a rental truck with timber frame kit to take to Orcas Island off the coast of Washington, where he and his wife own the Victorian Valley wedding chapel.

The Shape of a Sway is your third solo album. What type of a musical evolution do you see with this album?

Eli West: [With] each sequential record since my project with Cahalen, I’ve just been kind of establishing myself as a solo artist and singing my own music.

Tapered Point of Stone occurred right after my dad died and then this [album] occurred right after I became a dad. And making it halfway through life, turning 40, thinking about the second half. So, there’s kind of a transition theme. Looking up to someone and then all of a sudden looking down to my kids. Kind of switching teachers. My parents were my teachers and now my kids are my teachers. That’s a really abrupt shift.

I was writing for my last two records, but with this record I’m finally singing my songs that matter to me in a way that if they fall on other ears and feel good, I’m stoked. But I’m mostly happy with them as my own journal entries.

You have said you had something of a late start as a songwriter. How did your recent significant life events – your father dying, you getting married, and having children – influence your songwriting?

It took me so long to start songwriting, because I felt like I was cocky if I was putting my songs out if I hadn’t lived life. So, I needed to experience death. I needed to experience life on the other end, being a dad. I just didn’t have enough to say until then. It felt arrogant to do that without those experiences.

I have more certainty in whatever I’m doing. And I honestly needed a few years to think about my dad dying before I became a dad. And that certitude I feel in my music now, too.

I’m not writing to anything. I’m writing for myself. I have a lot of friends in Nashville, but I hate Nashville, because everyone’s writing to something. Not everybody, but there’s a big trend of writing to something to get awards or get someone to cover it – you know, that kind of thing.

How did you select the ten songs – did you pick them because they felt like a piece or because they were the ones ready to record?

It’s half matchmaking and half just the dam breaking because it was time. Making sense of getting half of your life, getting married, settling down, not road-dogging anymore, and ultimately deciding to have kids. So the matchmaking was finding the songs that spoke truth to being a new parent, I guess.

Are there tunes that you feel especially stand out to you from a songwriter’s perspective?

Well, “Ever Lovin Need To Know” doesn’t have a lot of meaning and it’s kind of filling syllables and it just feels good. It had meaning, but it was more about the feeling of the song than the content. “Spite and Love” is maybe the other end, where I had read this article in the New York Times about crows holding grudges and that just kind of launched it. I’m really proud of the lyrical content of that song.

And what songs served as the impetus for the album?

“Ever Lovin Need To Know” kind of felt like the tipping point where I could start assembling songs… And then “Rocks and Trees” is the most pertinent to my current situation. I have a nine-month-old daughter and that is speaking to that reality of who she is in my life.

“Rocks and Trees” also contains the line that you used for the album’s title.

Yeah, I don’t like naming a record after a song title. I think picking a lyric is way more interesting. I think there’s more satisfaction in finding that as a listener, than having a song title be the album title. So, “the shape of a sway” was kind of a secondary line that ended up meaning a lot to me. I have this newborn daughter, and I feel like I really know her not in a cognitive sense, but in a feeling sense. And “the shape of a sway” is this kind of different way to know somebody.

It feels like your lyrics often concern people exploring, examining, and searching for answers, but you don’t necessarily provide answers or explanations. Also, several songs (“All The Saints,” and the cover of Jean Ritchie’s “Cool of the Day”) have spiritual or religious imagery. Is this intentional or coincidental?

I’m glad you brought that up. I grew up in the church but then realized there’s just such a bigger common denominator than religion to get to know the world and people. So, I’ve happily delivered myself from that. But I think I ask better questions of myself because I acknowledge that human experience is bigger than any one religion.

I’m kind of looking back on those religious questions with a humanist empirical perspective, and I think that’s pretty fascinating to look back at the same questions but have a deeper well of experience and knowledge.

Was it difficult to quit the more structured world of graphic design and later business grad school for a life of a musician?

I think we’re all trying to reclaim this word “freedom” in this time and the definition of freedom for me was choosing a creative pursuit. There was some privilege and luxury in that, but it just felt like freedom. And I am grateful.

Has your background in design influenced the way you make music, similar to the connection that people have drawn between music and math?

Yes, spatial thinking – relative understanding based on space – what it feels like to be in one room and look into another room. I think of music and arrangements like that. The flow of walking through space and anticipation and memory, that’s really how I navigate music. That sounds kind of cocky, but I think you know what I mean.

You have talked about how collaborations are important to you. And this album features performers who you are familiar with (Patrick M’Gonigle, Forest Marowitz, Peter Hatch, and Matt Flinner). So, I was wondering how you walked the line with the arrangements and the collaborating, when it’s your name on the cover.

Yeah, I think any relationship [involves] grabbing onto the things that are important. The first line of this “Rocks and Trees” song is “a heavy rock that’s lightly held.” So, how to grab on to important things, but not white-knuckle them. I mean, I had this a few times, mostly in relationships, but also in musical collaborations that you seize the moment, but you don’t pretend it’s eternal.

And there’s a kind of like healthy promiscuity in music that just feeds the creative side. That said, this band that I play with right now – I feel so lucky. They’re just some of my favorite musicians. Besides Matt, we’re all in the Northwest now. And I think beyond anything, that’s why I do this – it’s just to play music with pals that I appreciate.

I had tried to record this a year previous, [and] it was basically too lightly held. I went in with a framework, but not enough rehearsing or structure around mostly [the] arrangements. And it was a great session. Those songs sound great. But it just didn’t have that kind of cohesive thing. So, I think my ideal process is leaving like 20% to be determined the day of recording. And then like that shit is always so great. But I need the 80% structure there.

You play a rather impressive variety of instruments. Guitar is your main instrument, but you play mandolin on this album’s two original instrumentals (“Gentleman’s Bulldog” and “Thanks and Sorry”). And you also play banjo and pedal steel. Do you feel like you have a particular facility with playing instruments?

I did Suzuki violin as a kid, which focuses mostly on ear training and that really helps to be fluid on instruments later in life. So, I’m really grateful for this Suzuki method!

This album has a little less bluegrass sound to it. Songs like “Spite and Love” and your reworking of Paul Simon’s “Hearts and Bones,” in particular, have real adventurous arrangements. Listening to it, the album sounds more genre-less – in a good way.

Yes, I am without genre. I just am drawn to good music, and I don’t like bad music. That’s how I define genre. There’s a lot of whim and not feeling bound to anything. So, that’s a freedom, and I kind of don’t care.

The Shape of a Sway also contains fewer instrumentals than your prior albums, was that by design?

I also love instrumental music…But the lyrical content of this record is important enough that I think that the instrumentals are just kind of supplemental.

You end the album with a real lively version of “I’d Rather Be A Train.” Was that on purpose?

[Chuckles] That Larry Sparks song was mostly just to make sure I still love bluegrass or to show that I love bluegrass.


Photo Credit: Jenny Jimenez

Basic Folk: Olive Klug

Olive Klug and I recorded this interview in my closet while they were in Portland, Maine, to play a show. Along with their band Cori, Haley, and Payton they stayed with us and it was a real pleasure to be around them for a few days. You can tell that Olive is at their best around their band and it is a true collaboration on stage. Shoutout to the whole crew for leaving such a remarkable impression on me and my wife and for assembling some baby furniture while they were staying at our house.

In our conversation for Basic Folk, Olive takes us on a journey through their musical upbringing, exploring their childhood influences, including their father’s eclectic taste in ’60s and ’70s rock and folk. Olive discusses their love for Joni Mitchell and Taylor Swift, which inspired them to learn guitar and develop their own musical tastes. They provide insights into their early internet presence on platforms like YouTube and Tumblr, and how these shaped their creative expression and online identity.

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Olive also touches on their experience of transitioning to a music career, going viral on TikTok, and the emotional and practical challenges that come with it. Additionally, they delve into how their psychology background and neurodiversity inform their songwriting, live performances, and day-to-day life. Our conversation wraps up with thoughts on the productive chaos of touring, the importance of community in the folk world, and their aspirations for long-term, sustainable growth in the music industry. Everyone belongs at the Olive Klug show. They leave their glow wherever their travels take them.

 

@oliveklugThe gay cowboys keep leaving nashvillea title=”♬ original sound – Olive Klug” href=”https://www.tiktok.com/music/original-sound-7519310944065817375?refer=embed” target=”_blank” rel=”noopener”>♬ original sound – Olive Klug


Photo Credit: Alex Steed

The Road Home: A Documentary Short About Fiddle, Family, and Kentucky

Bluegrass and country fans may recognize Kentucky-born, San Francisco-based fiddler Brandon Godman from touring, recording, and performing with folks like Dale Ann Bradley, Laurie Lewis, Jon Pardi, the Band Perry, the Music City Doughboys, and many more. He’s also an accomplished business owner and luthier, helming two fiddle repair and retail shops based in Nashville (The Violin Shop) and the Bay Area (The Fiddle Mercantile.) In addition, Godman helped found Bluegrass Pride and was instrumental in organizing the non-profit association’s float and marching contingent that won the coveted “Best Overall” ribbon from the 2017 SF Pride Parade.

Godman has played fiddle his entire life, beginning on the instrument as a young child in Northern Kentucky. His skills span old-time, bluegrass, western swing, country, contest fiddle, and beyond, and his career, by necessity often, has been remarkably varied, boasting stories of success, trials, tribulations, and highs and lows beyond his years. Now, filmmaker Bria Light has crafted a remarkable, heartfelt, and stunning documentary short all about Godman and his journey on and with the fiddle.

Shot and crafted in 2022 and 2023 as Light’s thesis film at UC Berkeley’s Graduate School of Journalism, The Road Home is an intimate and gorgeous look at Godman and his relationship with his instrument, his career path, and his rural home in Kentucky. The film includes lovely original music – much drawn from Godman’s acclaimed 2024 solo album, I Heard the Morgan Bell – that offers many varied samples of his expansive skillset on fiddle throughout, a perfect score and soundtrack for the 20 minute-plus documentary. Together, Light and Godman travel from California to Kentucky, visit with Godman’s family, share old memories and stories, and examine the complications and intricacies of family and community, the transient, intangible nature of “home,” and the pains and reliefs of leaving and returning.

Now, for the first time, The Road Home is available to screen online, right here on BGS and on YouTube. (Watch below.)

Light has a deft and artful touch as a filmmaker and director, utilizing the fiddle and Godman’s original compositions as an enormous character in these narratives, propelling the story forward and entrancing viewers with the sights, sounds, textures, and mythos of Northern Kentucky – as could only be delivered by a musician and creative like Godman. The end result is moving and illuminating, subverting expectations of the region, the instrument, the genres we associate with the fiddle, and the communities we expect – or don’t expect – to love these traditions and the people who keep them alive.

We spoke to Light via email about the film, its conception and making, and the twists and turns along the way that led Light and Godman to this stellar piece of visual, aural, and narrative storytelling.

Let’s begin by going back to the beginning. Can you tell us a bit of the story of how this film project came to be? What inspired you and how did you get connected with Brandon?

Bria Light: I made this film for my thesis film in the documentary film program at UC Berkeley’s Graduate School of Journalism and when it came time to look for a story that I would be spending all year working on, I knew I wanted a story that was music-related. But I also wanted to find a story that revealed something deeper about how music can help us find our way through the sometimes fraught path of being human. I eventually got connected with Brandon, who agreed to let me into his life and tell me this slice of his story.

This film tells such an expansive story in a relatively short amount of time. What was it like trying to condense such an interesting and often complicated narrative into this short film “package”?

I’ve sometimes used the metaphor that making a film feels like having the vast expanse and depth of the ocean stretching out before you and your job is to chart the best course from continent to continent. It can feel overwhelming! At every turn there are not only creative decisions to be made (What part of this person’s complex life do I focus on? Do I shoot this scene? Do I interview that person?), but also ethical ones (Who is affected by telling this story and how? Should I or should I not reveal someone’s identity? What impact am I hoping for this film to have and how is that best served?).

While you’re finding and crafting the story, it’s not always self-evident what the best, most meaningful storyline is and you want to explore a million different possible paths. You end up with hours and hours of footage (the ocean) that you have to fully explore to find the best course. And the thing is, you have to try things out to see if they work in a movie and until that golden moment where something works, it, well, doesn’t work. So it is a process of months – or years for feature docs – of trial and error, during much of which you suspect you might be terribly lost at sea and had no business becoming a sailor in the first place, to follow the metaphor… until one fine day you’re like, “Land ho!” and things start coming together and you can sleep again at night. [Laughs]

I feel like you let the music itself, and the tradition of fiddle music and roots music, do a lot of the storytelling here. What is it like translating music to a visual media like film in this way and leveraging it to help advance your narrative?

Absolutely. One of the key elements of my vision of the film from the beginning was to leverage the richness of this musical tradition and Brandon’s music within that to assist in telling his personal story. In fact, I pictured the music almost as a character itself. Music, of course, is a storyteller, even when it doesn’t have lyrics. So thinking of the music almost like the narrator of the story felt very natural.

Of course, Brandon creating his album of original tunes, I Heard The Morgan Bell, is part of the film’s narrative as well, so it all tied together organically. Additionally, since part of the film delves into the past and the creation of the album was the part of the story that was unfolding in the present, it helped provide a narrative thread to follow and to tie Brandon’s musical and personal evolution together from his past to his present.

Can you tell us a bit about what it was like traveling to Kentucky with Brandon?

It was very, very cold! Our trip to Kentucky took place over Christmas week and it just so happened to be during a cold snap that swept the entire country. It was in the single digits temperature-wise, in the negatives with wind chill, and the roads were covered in thick ice. I had envisioned going there and shooting scenes on the family farm with golden winter light sparkling in the crisp air, etc., and instead there was roaring wind so bitterly cold that you could barely be outside for two minutes before your fingers were completely numb. At one point, my camera was having some issues because it was so cold! But of course we filmed mostly inside and Brandon’s family was so warm and welcoming. I ate a copious amount of Mamaw’s famous chocolate peanut butter squares!

The music of the film is so stunning, and some of the selections went on to be included on Brandon’s 2024 album, which you mentioned already, I Heard the Morgan Bell – it was one of our favorite bluegrass albums of last year. Was there a “music supervision” process for the film? Did you leave it up to Brandon? What was it like collaborating on what would become the soundtrack and soundbed for your visuals?

Brandon was so generous in granting me permission to select music from his album, which was still in process, to use for the film. Through the course of our many hours of conversation over the year, he told me many of the stories behind the songs, of the inspiration and ideas that led to their creation. So I used that, along with the general feel and mood of the tune, to inform my choices as to which pieces to include where. Normally, you’re right, there would be a music supervision process, but in this case I had the privilege of working directly with Brandon, who was essentially also the film’s composer!

Do you have a favorite moment in the film? Or from the process of crafting it?

Hmm, there are so many memories attached to the creation of this film! I loved filming and editing the “Morgan Bell” scene in the church. The music is so gorgeous and I knew I would love filming in low light with stained glass church windows as the container for that wordless song that expresses so much emotion.

I also loved the moment in the editing process where I found the old footage of Brandon as a young teen on a local TV show. In Kentucky, his parents had given me a paper bag full of photo albums and old VHS tapes of Brandon at fiddling contests and other things to go through and see what I could use. Late one night, after a full day on campus, I headed back to the edit rooms in the journalism school to continue digitizing and going through the old VHS tapes. I got to one tape, began watching it, and it seemed to be all recorded re-runs of Days of Our Lives. After fast-fowarding through so many episodes of Days of Our Lives, I was wondering if that tape had been mistakenly included. I was about to stop when suddenly it cut to the footage of Brandon on the local TV station. It ended up becoming of my favorite scenes in the film, thanks to the very enthusiastic TV show host and a young, guileless Brandon.

Another favorite part of making the film was simply working with Brandon and getting to know him throughout our many conversations together. He’s such an old soul was a joy to work with, which is of course not always the case when making a film about someone’s real life. He was always open and willing to go along for the ride, despite the vulnerability required.

Filmmaker Bria Light, creator and director of ‘The Road Home.’

Maybe it’s an obvious question to ask, but what’s your goal? Making such an incredible and involved piece of art is goal enough, but where do you hope to take this film? How are you thinking about getting it in front of audiences? What’s next for the project?

I had several goals: I hoped some people might see a bit of themselves in the story and feel that they, too – despite having been made to feel othered in the past – belong in bluegrass and country music, that this music can be a home for everyone.

I also hoped that people would see Brandon’s story and say, “Wow, I didn’t realize there were still folks facing this type of persecution in the music industry.” This wasn’t so long ago. And unfortunately, as we all know, we are seeing today the continuation and resurgence of anti-LGBTQ laws and bigotry all over the country and the world. Another hope I have for the film is that by sharing stories that elevate the depth and humanness of the characters onscreen, folks from all sides of the political spectrum might, over time, begin to think about these issues in a new light.

What’s next? Recently the film screened to lovely and engaged audiences at the Sebastopol Documentary Film Festival and next it will play a bit farther from home at the Sound on Screen Film Festival in South Africa. I’m also hoping to show the film at music events or conferences, to continue to share Brandon’s story with audiences around the country.

What did you learn during the making of The Road Home that was unexpected? What will you take with you into future projects – whether in a similar vein or in another space entirely?

I learned so much! I learned the importance of finding that balance of pre-planning and knowing what the story is about while at the same time going with the flow of real-life, nonfiction storytelling – that is to say, you can’t actually predict how life is going to unfold, so you have to hold your preconceived ideas in one hand, while leaving room for the story to reveal itself to you as it unfolds in real time in the other. One thing I “learned” (in quotation marks because I’m still learning it…!) is to trust the creative process, with its highs and lows, self-doubts, rewarding moments, and ultimately, you find that you have gotten to the end of your creative process and survived! There are really too many things I’ve learned that I’ll be taking with me into future projects, so I’ll just leave it there for now.


Film, poster, and images courtesy of Bria Light.

Basic Folk: Gina Chavez

New bestie Gina Chavez speaks about her journey in music, her deep love for connecting with people, and the influence of her mixed cultural background on Basic Folk. Her parents are of Mexican and Swiss-German descent. Her father, although second generation Mexican-American, was not raised with Spanish language or any Mexican culture. Gina discusses growing up in Austin, Texas, and the role music – or the absence of it – played in her household. She talks about being a choir kid in the ’90s before it was cool, about discovering her Latin roots later in life, and how singing in Spanish feels spiritually significant to her.

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Gina also shares her experiences studying abroad in Argentina, running a college fund for girls in El Salvador, and the moment she unlocked her true singing voice in the studio. We hear about how she met her wife, Jodi Granado, at the Catholic Student Center at the University of Texas. Then, we get into her complex relationship with Texas, her Catholic upbringing, her advocacy work, and the joy of performing on Olivia Travel cruises. Throughout the interview, Gina emphasizes the importance of being true to oneself and learning to embrace and express all parts of her identity.


Photo Credit: Ismael Quintanilla

Finding Lucinda: Episode 7

In the most exciting moment of the Finding Lucinda road trip thus far, Ismay hears from interviewee Wolf Stephenson that there is some archival material he wants to share from the concrete tape vault. After sitting on the shelf for 40 years, Wolf has finally brought three boxes down to review. He finds that there is something mysterious and unexpected in the third box, so Wolf and Ismay try to get to the bottom of what in the world this mystery box contains. This piece of never-before-heard material gives Ismay insight into Lucinda’s musical development and the choices she made as a creative person. But most importantly, discovering this treasure gives Ismay an opportunity to see themself in a way they never have before.

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Produced in partnership with BGS and distributed through the BGS Podcast Network, Finding Lucinda expands on the themes of Ismay’s eponymous documentary film, exploring artistic influence, creative resilience, and the impact of Williams’ music. New episodes are released twice a month. Listen right here on BGS or wherever you get podcasts.

Finding Lucinda, the documentary film that inspired and instigated the podcast, is slated for release in the fall. Both the film and podcast showcase never-before-heard archival material, intimate conversations, and a visual journey through the literal and figurative landscapes that molded Lucinda’s songwriting.

Credits:
Produced and mixed by Avery Hellman for Neanderthal Records, LLC.
Music by Ismay.
Artwork by Avery Hellman.
Jackson, MS Recording: Recorded at Malaco Studios.
Sound Recordist: Rodrigo Nino
Producer: Liz McBee
Director: Joel Fendelman
Co-Director & Cinematographer: Rose Bush
Special thanks to: Mick Hellman, Chuck Prophet, Don Fierro, Jacqueline Sabec, Rosemary Carroll, Lucinda Williams & Tom Overby


Find more information on Finding Lucinda here. Find our full Finding Lucinda episode archive here.