Tag: Roy Orbison

BGS 5+5: Blue Cactus

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Artist: Blue Cactus
Hometown: Chapel Hill, North Carolina
Latest Album: Believer
Personal Nicknames: Steph and Mar

If you had to write a mission statement for your career, what would it be?

“Slow and steady, always be on the rise.” I used to think I wanted to “make it” and I worked so hard at that, that it almost broke me, literally. I had stressed myself to the point that my mental stress had begun to manifest physically as various chronic health issues. I want to be a successful musician, which means for me that I am constantly making the music I want to create and not restricting myself to any specific rules or genre limitations. Once you “make it” there’s really only one place to go from there and so many artists have shared that their least happiest times were when their career was at its peak. I want to always be climbing, up and up, constantly evolving and learning new things about myself and abilities. – Steph

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

I’m a perpetual hobbyist at heart and am always dabbling in some form of visual art – from film photography and cyanotype to linocut print-making and botanical dyeing – I find that having these other forms of art keeps me curious and inspired, which in turn feeds my inner-songwriter. When I look at my calendar, so much of my life feels planned out and I savor the mystery and surprise of what the film will reveal when it’s developed or how one print will vary from another when I lift the paper. It’s become essential for me to make art for myself that is separate from the business of making music and it’s taught me to embrace the happy accidents of art and re-framed my relationship with perfectionism. – Steph

Genre is dead (long live genre!), but how would you describe the genres and styles your music inhabits?

We have a deep love and respect for country and folk music, which is a sort of foundation for the music we make. There’s a bit of psychedelia and art rock swirling around, too, which seems to move us toward alt-country and cosmic country. We aspire to create songs that are strong enough to exist in varied genres, they just happen to be delivered in our vernacular. – Mario

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

Working in music has meant that I’ve also needed some other work to help pay the bills and I’ve been very fortunate to have been an instructor at a local outdoor nature program near our home in Chapel Hill, working with kids. I grew up in a very rural part of Catawba County, in the foothills of North Carolina, and was always out playing in the woods, building forts, and climbing trees. This work has kept me grounded and saved me from burnout. I suppose I’d just keep doing more of it if I changed career paths. – Steph

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

I’m thinking comfort food: meatloaf, mashed potatoes and gravy, and green beans paired with Roy Orbison. In particular, the album Crying. – Mario

Photo Credit: Steph Stewart

Basic Folk – Zach Williams of The Lone Bellow

Posted on by Shelby Williamson

The latest from Nashville-based, New York-bred and Georgia-born trio The Lone Bellow, Love Songs for Losers, was recorded at Roy Orbison’s creepy former house in Hendersonville, TN. The house’s vibe bled its way into the vibe of the album, which was co-produced by band members Brian Elmquist and Kanene Pipkin, producing vocals. The band went for a bombastic sound and they did it with no adult supervision (read: no outside producer influence). Frontman Zach Williams expounded on the experience along with his affinity for the house’s architect, the eccentric Braxton Dixon.

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We talk about a few standout songs from album including “Gold,” which takes a look at new small town life heavily impacted by the opioid crisis, “Honey,” a sort of poking love song to his wife and “Homesick,” which serves as the theme song for his new renovation program The Williams Family Cabin. The TV show features Zach and his wife Stacy flipping a cabin outside of Nashville and all the antics that come with it. Zach is familiar with the world of home renovation shows thanks to his close friend and home reno personality, the designer Leanne Ford. He actually got some good advice from Leanne prior to starting the show, but neglected to listen (LOL).

Zach’s a really fun person to watch on stage, he’s a remarkable showman. Catch The Lone Bellow live if you can. Their new album is fantastic! The creepy old matchstick house must have really worked wonders.

Editor’s Note: Basic Folk is currently running their annual fall fundraiser! Visit basicfolk.com/donate for a message from hosts Cindy Howes and Lizzie No, and to support this listener-funded podcast.

Photo Credit: Eric Ryan Anderson

BGS 5+5: The Kernal

Posted on by Editor

Artist: The Kernal
Hometown: Jackson, Tennessee
Latest album: Listen to the Blood
Rejected band name: Andrew Combs’ manager (Davis Inman) talked me out of calling my band “The Kernal & His Handsome Privates”

Which artist has influenced you the most … and how?

John Hartford probably hasn’t influenced my music as much as he has inspired it (because I’m nowhere near the musician that he was), but Hartford had a way of doing things like retaining his inner 7-year-old while writing a very poignant song about society or something seemingly little but important, and doing it all at a world-class musical level. He was excellent in every aspect of the process and I just never can get enough of him. David Bowie taught me that creating music can be more multi-dimensional than the just binary relationship between singer and audience (which turned out to be really important to me) but it’s Hartford for my money.

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

I really love any form of creative output and the paths you can be led down through experiencing them. For example, I was very into a Polish filmmaker named Krzysztof Kieślowski a few years back. He did a project called The Decalogue (which I encourage everyone to watch) and he also did a color trilogy (Blue, White, Red) and I was immediately drawn in by the Red film because I had already begun this project by the time I saw it and was wearing the red suit as a theme of the project. During the movie you find out that the main character is named Joseph Kern. This freaked me out because my name is Joseph and then the whole Kern thing. I immediately felt a deeper connection with him. I love those connections you can find through dance, music, writing, any of that — they aren’t algorithmic. There’s something more real about those kinds of connections and a lot of times it seems like they find you if you’re able to see them.

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

The first time I was ever mesmerized by music was when I was around 5 years old after my sister put a 45 on the record player by The Cascades and the song was “Listen to the Rhythm of the Falling Rain.” Maybe that’s not the first time I wanted to be a musician but that song put me on the map for being enraptured by it. I saw Jose Gonzalez + Cass McCombs once in Louisville before I was doing much music and I was blown away at how incredible it was — that was around the time I started trying to write on my own. I remember doing it a lot more after that — there was something magical in the room. Bonnie “Prince” Billy was in the crowd too and I shook his hand, maybe I got the bug from him.

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

On Listen to the Blood there’s a silly tune called “Super (Marijuana) Wal-Mart” about a fictitious Wal-Mart where everything is made out of cannabis and all the old folks in this small town are up in arms about it. At the very end of the song the manager of the store comes out on a loudspeaker and tries to convince these people of all the amazing products they could purchase if they just come on inside. This part took me about a year to write because I wanted him spouting off all kinds of weird products and the cadence of it had to be just right. It may not sound like something that would take a person a year to finish, but there it is.

What has been the best advice you’ve received in your career so far?

The best advice I received was actually just a story that I was told by Norbert Putnam (legendary Muscle Shoals musician) about Roy Orbison. He told me that Roy had just gotten a new motorcycle and decided to take it down on Broadway in downtown Nashville. As he pulled up to a stoplight he noticed some teenage boys on the corner making fun and pointing at the old man on the motorcycle, not realizing it was Orbison of course. As you might expect, Orbison was incensed and began revving up the engine to show those boys that he wasn’t a chump. When the light turned green he took off but shifted wrong and the bike fell over on top of him. He had to motion to the same kids to come pull the bike off of him. Sometimes I imagine Orbison saying, “Don’t rev the engine if you can’t shift the gears.”

Photo Credit: December Rain Hansen

Kacy & Clayton and Marlon Williams Find Two Versions of the Same Music

Posted on by Editor

Fans of roots music are likely already familiar with the work of singer-songwriter Marlon Williams and the folk duo Kacy & Clayton. Williams, who hails from New Zealand, released his self-titled debut in 2015, capturing listeners’ attention with his sepia-toned alt-country and his distinct voice, which drew comparisons to Roy Orbison. The Canadian duo Kacy & Clayton have been fixtures of the roots scene for more than a decade, with their most recent album, Carrying On, earning critical acclaim upon its release in 2019.

The acts combined their talents for Plastic Bouquet, a new album born from their mutual respect for one another’s music. Recorded primarily in Kacy & Clayton’s hometown of Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, in late 2018, the album is a lively, intimate snapshot of three talented musicians who thrive on both playing off one another’s differences and digging deep to find common ground. BGS caught up with Williams and Kacy Anderson to talk about songwriting, learning from your collaborators, and just how cold it gets in Saskatchewan.

BGS: Before we dig into the new music, how have you both been doing this year, particularly with COVID-19 and how it’s affected the music industry?

Anderson: I’ve had to develop a personality and interests aside from music and touring. So that’s been trying. It’s actually been a great time.

Williams: We down in New Zealand have had a pretty lucky run of things, in terms of the actual impact of the virus. We’ve sort of been living in our fantasyland down here. It’s pretty easy to pretend there’s no such thing as coronavirus in New Zealand. I’ve learned how to cook a bit more and I’ve been going to the beach a lot. It’s been quite nice.

I know you’ve toured together in the past, but I’d love to hear, in your own words, about how you met and developed your musical friendship.

Anderson: We met in Saskatoon, at the airport.

Williams: Kacy picked me up in the middle of a cold night. And we started singing.

Anderson: Just right there in the airport.

Williams: To take it back further than that, I was on tour in Europe and was listening to music in the van, as you do when you’re on tour. I heard their music come up on Spotify and it was really exciting for me to hear. So I reached out to them and asked if we could make some music, so we did. Fast-forward to Christmas of that year and I was in Saskatoon and it was real cold and we made music.

Anderson: It was very cold for Canada, even. It was in the -40s. But I just pretended like it wasn’t so bad, and Marlon went along with it. I was gaslighting Marlon like crazy.

So was it during that initial visit that you decided to make Plastic Bouquet? Or were you just tinkering around, seeing what would come of some joint sessions?

Anderson: I think we wanted to just do a little bit of music together. But then it made more sense, since Marlon was already coming, to make a full-length album.

Williams: We just loved that sound. It was like, ‘Here’s two and a half minutes of music. And here’s another. And another.’ Eventually, after enough time doing that things start taking shape into an LP.

Anderson: ‘LP’ is short for ‘long playing.’

As far as putting the songs together, did you come together with your own songs to share with one another, or did you sit down and write them from scratch as a group?

Williams: We sent songs back and forth pretty much as they ended up on the album. We didn’t really do much real 50-50 collaboration. We came with nearly full-formed things, got approval from each other and then there were only a couple of moments that there was real songwriting collaboration. Kacy just kept writing bangers and I was trying to keep up. I had to reach deep into my kitty to find some.

Anderson: I really had nothing else to do.

With those moments that you did collaborate on songwriting, how did those experiences compare to writing your own individual material?

Anderson: I don’t know, but I do know that Marlon made me sing “baby” for the first time. I didn’t want to fucking sing it. It’s the only thing I remember wanting to change. Can we just get rid of this “baby” line?

Williams: We’re both used to collaborating. Kacy writes with Clayton a lot, and I’ve done a lot of collaborating with this guy Delaney Davidson down here. We’re both used to the give and take of the collaborative experience, so that made it a lot easier.

Marlon Williams and Kacy Anderson

When it came time to record the tracks, were you recording as you went? Was that part of that same December 2018 visit, or was it something you worked on after the fact?

Williams: We smashed out the bulk of it then and there. These guys have an amazing band so we just really leaned into it. The whole sound was within the studio. We did meet up the next year in Nashville during AmericanaFest and finished it up there. But we pretty much went song-by-song and plowed through it.

Anderson: Yeah, that’s the only way I can handle it.

Williams: Those guys do most of their stuff live, and for me I was like, “Let’s just take time.” But it was real nice for them, since they have the confidence in each other and the familiarity to be able to just work through them so naturally and organically.

Anderson: I was bossy with them.

What were you bossy about?

Anderson: I hate redoing things. Marlon is more caring and precise.


From what I’ve read about the album, a big part of the inspiration creatively for you was the fact that you come from such different roots, both musically and culturally, as well as living in different hemispheres. How did you find that your backgrounds were able to complement one another?

Williams: I think Kiwis and Canadians have a complementary sense of humor, which is most of the battle, really, especially when doing something like recording. You have to use humor as a way of navigating situations, so that was a nice thing. Then we have the same love for the same music. The joy of the process was finding two versions of the same kind of music, coming from different cultural spaces and geographical spaces. That’s the kernel of the album, that discrepancy and familiarity and where those two things meet.

Anderson: I think that was a perfect answer.

In the same vein, what are one or two things you each feel you learned from working with each other, whether it was about music or something else?

Anderson: Just some guidance in the singing department. Marlon is like, “Sing this instead, this one note.” And I’m like, “Okay, fine. I will do that.” I’m not so used to singing arrangements. I was spiteful, in a sense, but then listening to it I’m like, “Yeah, that makes sense. That’s the part that he wrote, so I had to sing it.”

Williams: For me, I’m used to being the main singer in a room. I think being the second biggest voice in the room was a really interesting and a very helpful experience for me, and one that I didn’t know I needed to have. Working out my own place in the background sometimes was a really valuable lesson, I think.

Anderson: You were flexible in the key department. That’s what I appreciated. You can sing in any key. So when I’m like, “I only know how to play this song in a certain key, so we have to use this key,” that made everything easy.

Given that it’s been a couple of years since you wrote the bulk of the album, and since you couldn’t have anticipated the world you would be releasing the album into, how has your perception of the project evolved, if at all?

Anderson: I’m just thrilled that it’s coming out. We tried very hard. Hopefully people can listen to it now and enjoy it. It’s nice to share it finally.

Williams: It’s been so long, in terms of where we’ve got to as a society in that time. The album feels like a little paper boat on a big ocean squall. But it’s all the more exciting for its fragility.

Anderson. The paper boat theory. I like that.

Photo credit: Janelle Wallace

Born in North Carolina, These 10 Stars Shaped Classic Country Music

Posted on by Editor

When it comes to bluegrass and classic country music, North Carolina offers a talent pool that rivals any other state. It’s also red hot on the modern country scene, with stars like Eric Church, Luke Combs, and Scotty McCreery hailing from the Tarheel State. Some would say these contemporary musicians are following in the footsteps of these 10 North Carolina-born artists who made a mark in country music history.

Earl Scruggs
b. 1924 in Flint Hill, N.C.

Without the banjo innovations of Earl Scruggs in Bill Monroe’s band, would we even have bluegrass? “The Ballad of Jed Clampett” and “Foggy Mountain Breakdown” are obvious Flatt & Scruggs classics, though his catalog runs deep — and his creativity blossomed further in the ’70s with the Earl Scruggs Revue. The city of Shelby has renovated its courthouse into the interactive Earl Scruggs Center.

Don Gibson
b. 1928 in Shelby, N.C.

This soft-spoken artist is arguably country music’s first triple threat — a commanding presence as a vocalist, songwriter and guitarist. Born poor, he persisted through every bad break until finally exploding in 1958 with “Oh Lonesome Me” and an Opry membership. He remained active on the charts for two more decades. Shelby has honored him, as well, with a live music venue, the Don Gibson Theater.

Fred Foster
b. 1931 in Rutherford County, N.C.

Behind the scenes, it’s hard to fathom just how well-connected Fred Foster was. He founded Monument Records in 1958 and produced all of Roy Orbison’s early hits on that label, gave Dolly Parton a publishing and label deal when she first moved to town, and landed a co-writing credit on Kris Kristofferson’s iconic “Me and Bobby McGee.” He was inducted into the Country Music Hall of Fame in 2016.

Stonewall Jackson
b. 1932 in Emerson, N.C.

After an impressive audition but no track record, Stonewall Jackson was invited to join the Grand Ole Opry cast in 1956. For the next 10 years, he charged the country chart with “Life to Go” (written by George Jones), “Waterloo” (a five-week No. 1 in 1959), and “B.J. the DJ” (No. 1 in 1964). He sued Opry for age discrimination in 2006, then after a settlement, resumed appearances on the long-running show.

George Hamilton IV
b. 1937 in Winston-Salem, N.C.

From North Carolina to the world, George Hamilton IV may be the top international ambassador of his generation. His stardom began as a teenager with an unexpected million-selling pop hit, 1956’s “A Rose and a Baby Ruth.” He signed to RCA and the Opry in 1960, setting the foundation for a decade of radio success with “Abilene” (a four-week No. 1 classic), “Break My Mind,” “Early Morning Rain,” and more.

Del Reeves
b. 1932 in Sparta, N.C.

A 1965 novelty smash, “Girl on the Billboard” finally established Del Reeves as a likable country star (after four other record deals didn’t pan out). He’d go on to issue Top 10 singles through 1971, often singing for truckers on tracks like “The Belles of Southern Bell” and “Looking at the World Through a Windshield.” Known for his big personality, he joined the Grand Ole Opry cast in 1966.

Donna Fargo
b. 1945 in Mount Airy, N.C.

A leading artist of the 1970s, Donna Fargo won a Grammy, an ACM Award and a CMA Award for her 1972 breakout hit, “Happiest Girl in the Whole USA.” The feel-good release reached No. 1, as did her next three singles — and she wrote them all. Fargo taught high school English courses before exploring songwriting. By 1979, she’d notched 16 Top 10 country hits and landed her own syndicated variety show.

Ronnie Milsap
b. 1943 in Robbinsville, N.C.

Easily one of the most identifiable voices in country music, Ronnie Milsap dazzled listeners with charisma, musical talent, and an impeccable ear for hearing a hit. Inspired by R&B and country music alike, the entertainer shared his soul with fans for decades, with an astonishing 49 Top 10 country singles on RCA. One of the best, “Smoky Mountain Rain,” topped the chart in December 1980.

Charlie Daniels
b. 1936 in Wilmington, N.C.

Four decades later, Charlie Daniels Band is synonymous with “The Devil Went Down to Georgia.” Arguably the most famous fiddling song in the country music canon, the single won a Grammy and led to a guest spot in the era-defining film, Urban Cowboy. A member of the Opry and the Country Music Hall of Fame, Daniels remained a highly visible entertainer, especially eager to support causes for veterans and children.

Randy Travis
b. 1959 in Marshville, N.C.

In the mid ’80s, Randy Travis was transformed from a dish-washing hopeful to a country music sensation. Plucked from the kitchen of the Nashville Palace onto the TNN airwaves, Travis was then reportedly rejected by every label in Nashville until finally signing to Warner Bros. And then “1982” changed everything. His resonant voice, though largely silenced now, will live on forever and ever, amen.

Photo of Charlie Daniels courtesy of Charlie Daniels Band, Inc.; Photo of Earl Scruggs by Al Clayton, provided by Sony Music; Photo of Randy Travis provided by 117 Entertainment Group.

Discover more about the North Carolina music scene and #NCMusicMonth through Come Hear North Carolina’s website and on Instagram at @comehearnc.

MIXTAPE: The Revelers’ Cajun Christmas

Posted on by Editor

What can be said about Christmas music? It’s so ingrained in us as Americans, most of all during these two months of the year when music of the Great American Songbook and golden eras of popular music once again reign over the flavors of the week. In Southwest Louisiana, which is predominantly Catholic, Christmas is as intertwined with its history as Mardi Gras.

Many of these songs you’ll recognize. I think it’s revealing to hear songs we know well reinterpreted by Cajuns — it helps to make the idiosyncrasies of the genre stand out. Others are pretty generic-sounding Cajun songs (waltzes and two steps) that are tangentially about Christmas or take place with Christmas as a backdrop. You might not be able to translate “Christmas on the Bayou” but you probably have a pretty good idea what Vin Bruce is singing about. And “Christmas Blues” has many common Cajun tropes — the protagonist is imprisoned by a love of the past, he’s crying, the children are singing, and it’s Christmas Day… Cheery!

Some highlights:

We kick things off with Belton Richard, “the Cajun Elvis.” This cover might have helped to earn him that title. So, so good we had to include a few, spanning both Cajun and Swamp Pop (“Please Come Home for Christmas” is a great example of the latter).

Many of these tracks come from an album from the late ’80s called Merry Cajun Christmas. Check out that full record if you want a deep dive into Cajun culture and some of its enduring stereotypes (complete with spoken word Christmas poems!), but we selected some of the less cheesy numbers for this playlist.

We included a few classics that aren’t strictly Cajun, but fall under “Revelers influences” — Roy Orbison, Buck Owens. After all, Cajun and country have always borrowed from one another. And a shout out to honorary Cajun Dirk Powell (Balfa Toujours) and Bahamian guitarist Joseph Spence. — Chris Miller of The Revelers

Photo Credit: Sandlin Gaither

MIXTAPE: Ruen Brothers’ Music & Film

Posted on by Editor

We decided to choose the theme of music and film because, for us, it’s two art forms that go so perfectly hand in hand. Film has always helped inspire our writing and the mood of our songs. A lot of nights have been spent playing our demos alongside our favorite movie trailers. Quentin Tarantino, David Lynch, the Coen brothers, Wim Wenders, and Martin Scorsese have all been big influences on us, so we thought it fitting to create a playlist of music and film. If you dig the music and haven’t yet seen the films, you won’t be disappointed with any of the below. – Ruen Brothers

Chuck Berry – “You Never Can Tell”

Growing up, Chuck Berry was a big inspiration to us. He was one of the first musicians we were introduced to by our father. We performed many of Chuck’s hits at the working men’s clubs and pubs week in, week out. We still play a Berry number or two at some of our shows. We are huge Quentin Tarantino fans – the Mia Wallace and Vincent Vega dance to “You Never Can Tell” is really cool.

Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds – “Red Right Hand”

In our opinion, a haunting Western masterpiece. The song is used ironically as Jim Carrey’s character, Lloyd (from Dumb and Dumber), wanders the streets, sporting a ten-gallon hat and buying junk items, gets robbed by ‘a sweet old lady on a motorized cart…’.

The Statler Brothers – “Flowers on the Wall”

Another brilliant song from Tarantino’s Pulp Fiction. Bruce and Marcellus W coming to a head at the traffic lights. The song offsets the tension between the two characters–it’s comedic and cool. There’s juxtaposition there. It’s a great song and one that we play on all of our American tour journeys.

Walter Egan – “Magnet & Steel”

From Egan’s second album, produced by Fleetwood Mac’s Lindsey Buckingham and Stevie Nicks, and featured in the Paul Thomas Anderson movie Boogie Nights. A very smooth song, fitting of young Mark Wahlberg’s character Dirk Diggler and his quest to bring a more artistic side to the world of porn.

Al Green – “Tired of Being Alone”

One of Henry’s all-time favorite songs. Powerful music when paired with the death of Chris Tucker’s character Skip from the Hughes brothers’ Dead Presidents. SPOILER ALERT — Skip is found dead, syringe in arm, “Tired of Being Alone” playing out live on the TV in front of him. It’s haunting and tragic, much like the situation the characters find themselves in towards the end of the movie.

Talking Heads – “This Must Be the Place”

Brilliantly crafted, timeless and classic. It helps portray Bud Fox’s love for material possessions as he buys his first home in Oliver Stone’s movie, Wall Street. This Talking Heads song introduced us to the band; a great rhythm and fantastic lyrics.

Danny Elfman – “Storytime”

As beautiful and enchanting as the picture and story of Edward Scissorhands itself. A piece of music to get lost in while crammed in a subway car in the tunnels of NYC.

Harry Nilsson – “Without You”

As Lester and Ginger plot their escape in Scorsese’s Casino, the crescendoing vocals of Nilsson’s “Without You” hearken as the situation becomes manic and crazed. For us, this is one of Nilsson’s best works and one of the most powerful love songs ever written.

The Delfonics – “Didn’t I (Blow Your Mind This Time)”

The song behind Tarantino’s classic Jackie Brown – the perfect portrayal of Max’s love for Jackie. From the French horn opening and twinkling glockenspiel to the soaring strings, beautiful melody line and smooth harmonies, The Delfonics deliver a beautiful, timeless love song.

Ry Cooder – “Paris, Texas”

Ry Cooder’s Western-drenched instrumental soundtrack to Wim Wenders’ classic film Paris, Texas – probably one of our favorite films of all time. We play many demos alongside the muted trailer of this movie to see if we are hitting the pocket with the mood and tone. The title track is haunting, lonesome and longing, going hand in hand with Travis’ journey throughout the film. Another great one for a late night road trip through Texas.

Roy Orbison – “There Won’t Be Many Coming Home”

Seeing Tarantino’s The Hateful Eight in 70mm while living in London was brilliant. This Roy Orbison song played as the credits rolled. A lesser known song of his, previously heard in The Fastest Guitar Alive. Love it.

Photo credit: Jacob Blickenstaff

BGS 5+5: Chris Stills

Posted on by Editor

Artist: Chris Stills
Hometown: Los Angeles, California
Latest Album: Don’t Be Afraid
Personal Nicknames: Stillsy

How do other art forms – literature, film, dance, painting, and so on – inform your music?

My favorite way to get inspired is to go see other people play, because you see the human being on stage with their songs and not just the music. There is a depth there that informs you with so much more information on what the artist is about – the nature of their style, the way they wield that style and talent on stage and in front of their audience. I mean, you can get the record and listen to production, but to really get an artist, you see ’em live. It’s all about the banter which, to me, is actually the hardest part of playing in front of people.

Movies and docs are cool … paintings and poetry … I like watching people speak at readings. Anything can strike a chord, inspire a thought … it’s up to you to seize upon it and write it down, record it, spend time with it, honor it. It’s like a laser beam from the universe – not to sound too hokey but it’s true. You gotta put yourself in the position to not just receive it, but to translate and interpret it.

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

I heard “Little Wing” on the radio when I was about 10 years old. That song changed the way I listened to music forever and, from then on, I started to dive into playing more and wanting to recreate the magic that I was suddenly privy to.

If you could spend 10 minutes with John Lennon, Dolly Parton, Hank Williams, Joni Mitchell, Sister Rosetta, or Merle Haggard how would it go?

Truth is, I have spent time with others like them and, when I was younger, I’d want to hide in a corner and just observe. I never thought I had anything important enough to say, or that they would ever want to hear what I had to say. Now, with age, I realize that it’s not about being important; it’s about being yourself. It’s that thing where you realize that your existence is no different than theirs and you just need to go with yourself. Be your badass self, no matter who you’re in the room with. That actually can be enough to attract the best of them. And with a cast like that, anything could happen. How would it go? Well, dinner would be nice.

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

The toughest time, for me, is mostly getting my shit together to actually finish them. There is a finality to songs that can sometimes fuck with me. Like I’m going to ruin it. I’m going to miss its potential. Dealing with some unrealistic fear that there will be no songs after that. Like when you don’t want your kids to grow up. Because when they grow up, they’re not yours anymore. I’m still finishing songs I started 20 years ago. Sounds crazy and stupid, but that’s my self-inflicted cross to bear. Still working on that one.

As you travel around the world, what is the overriding sense you get of the people?

When you start out, every crowd is different. They present different difficulties but every one is an opportunity. You learn to take the right chances at the right time to grab them and win them over. What’s funny is, when you come back around, those crowds are more than likely the same as they were when you were last there. Just more of them! I love the humanity in that. And it plays into local traditions, and local credence to music, and their understanding and love of it.

 

Photo credit: Laurence Laborie

Committing to Reality: A Conversation with Marlon Williams

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Marlon Williams staked his name on grandiose vocals and an adventurous sound stoked by the Americana fire. When the New Zealand singer/songwriter began touring the States behind his 2016 self-titled debut, his ramped-up “Hello Miss Lonesome” showcased a breathtaking sustain in that it quite literally took Williams a good deal of breath to hold the opening “Hello.” Yet, on his sophomore album, Make Way for Love, he sheds those theatrical moments to pursue a different sound. Williams lets his voice break, searching out quieter moments reflective of his inner anguish, as he worked his way through myriad passions: jealousy, possession, self-loathing, and the one fueling them all, heartbreak.

Heartbreak, as a theme, seems to be the modus operandi for many a singer/songwriter. If they’re not singing about love, they’re singing about its opposite. While Williams wrote his debut through the perspectives of several characters — letting their voices form a barrier to keep his true self private — Make Way for Love takes a different tack. The songs detail his breakup from fellow New Zealand singer/songwriter Aldous Harding. (Interestingly, Harding appears on the penultimate song, “Nobody Gets What They Want Anymore.” The duet, a conversation between former lovers, hangs with a haunting echo of all they’ll never be able to say to one another.) But beyond that overarching subject matter, Williams tackles issues of communication — how seemingly impossible it is to convey an entire truth to another person, let alone oneself.

If Williams was influenced by alt-country and indie folk on his debut, he shows threads of Roy Orbison, Scott Walker, Anohni, and even Jeff Buckley on Make Way for Love. “Can I Call You” begins with an antiquated piano, its keys plunked one by one in heartbeat fashion, before Williams practically pleads the title. One of the album’s standouts, “I Know a Jeweller,” touches on his former sound while nodding at turns to surf rock. With Orbison-like vocals, he demands with a voice oscillating between hope and despair, “Make me a ring for the one who is too afraid to try.” Heartbreak may be old hat for singer/songwriters, but Williams uses it to spin a new thread for his musical development. It is, at once, a man looking around at the wreckage, and a glimpse at a promising musician who’s finally letting his guard down and allowing listeners to get a touch closer.

Your debut involved so many characters and narrators. Besides the heartbreak radiating from the center, why did it feel necessary to peel back those narrative devices and insert yourself more personally this time?

I think the word “necessary” is a very on-the-point description. That’s really how the whole process felt. I didn’t feel I could be so removed this time around, and circumstances were such that I just felt compelled to make a record that was pretty much entirely coming from a personal point of view.

How did you handle the business of confessing and revealing just enough without giving too much of yourself away?

It kind of felt like a crime of passion, you know? I hadn’t really written a song at all in nearly two years and then, in the space of just over three weeks, 15 songs came out. There were ideas that had been floating around in my head for a long time, but there was a fear or reticence about committing them to any sort of reality. It really just happened and I sort of woke up a few weeks later with blood on my hands, and I didn’t know what had happened.

Do you think, if it hadn’t happened that quickly, you might’ve overthought that process more than you let yourself at first?

Yeah, it feels like I sort of blindsided myself. I have always had that relationship with songwriting, where it’s done very frantically and out of fear, really, and I’m left with the results. There’s not a lot of discipline or intentionality going into the way I do it.

I understand that underlying fear, though. You know you have to get it out, but the process can be so overwhelming at times.

Yeah, I don’t listen too closely to myself, so I came out with all these songs, and it wasn’t until right at the end of the process where I realized sort of what I was doing and how personal a body of work it was. I found myself having to choose to make this commitment, this, “Well, I’ve gotten so far with all these songs, is this the right way to do this?” I realized that I had to take the plunge and just commit to it.

It reminds me of the Polar Bear Plunge, where people dive into the icy water so quickly they don’t feel the pain.

That’s the artistic version of that, yeah. [Laughs]

I’m curious if there was any kind of emotional truth you were hoping to unfold over the course of this project, but maybe you weren’t even aware of it until it all came about.

Yeah! I really think it was a means of processing and as real a therapy as anyone ever receives.

Your first album contained such big vocals — both in terms of the volume and also your ability to sustain a note. This is quieter and more introspective for good reason. How did you see your voice serving this project?

I feel like, with this album, I wasn’t writing vocal parts; I wasn’t consciously trying to crack little vocal tricks. All the vocals are serving the song first, so my voice ends up in different and interesting situations that it wouldn’t normally end up in because some of these songs, I guess, represent feelings I’ve never had. “I Didn’t Make a Plan” is just, “This song feels like it wants to be sung down here.” It’s not a part of my personality, but this is what the song wants to do, so it’s what I’ll do.

There are so many styles taking place on this album. What were you listening to ahead of time to shift your mindset away from what you’d recorded in the past?

A lot of stuff. A lot of Scott Walker, obviously. That intensive vocals and tone that’s slightly off and darker than the more obvious Roy Orbison and …Well, obviously Scott Walker is a strange dude. Trying to listen to stuff that really brings my own sense of what I do, of what I’m capable of doing, and how I want to use my voice and present songs. It sort of shifted.

Make Way for Love has been touted as a heartbreak album, but of course any kind of label can be restrictive in a sense. Did you find yourself pushing past those limitations in any way?

The term “heartbreak album” sort of smacks a little bit of sensationalism into it, in a way. But also I’m really curious and really enjoy watching the album squirm under the moniker of “breakup album.” It’s interesting when you give labels to things how you see … I heard someone refer to it as a heartbreak album, and then I listened back to the album myself, and it’s a really interesting re-learning process for me as the album is heard by more and more people.

The song “Nobody Gets What They Want Anymore” is beautifully bleak. Have you reconciled yourself to living with that understanding?

Well, look, that sort of resignation is not eternal nor should it be. It was in the context of the subject matter of the album. I’d sort of come to live with that, I guess. [Laughs]

You can be happily melancholic, as they say.

Yeah, exactly. You can wear sadness well, and it’s fine.

Most of the album is written from a certain perspective, but “Nobody” turns into a dialogue. Why choose to have another character speak on the matter?

I found myself in a unique position of being able to give a voice to … if we’re speaking frankly, there aren’t many breakup albums that are engaged with the subject that the album is about, and kudos to Aldous [Harding] for agreeing to do that. We always had that sort of thread running through our relationship from the get-go, so it didn’t feel that weird to potentially do that.

What was the recording process like?

It was detached and weird. It was one of the last songs we recorded, when we were [recording] in California. I had my parts all done, and then the last thing we needed was her part, but she didn’t record it for another couple of months. She did her part while she was in Cardiff and Wales, and I was in Portland, and we sort of talked it through on the phone. It was a very fitting way to do it.

No kidding, especially considering all the themes of communication that run across the album. To have this significant moment run across time zones and continents …

Exactly, yeah. I would’ve rather we’d done it in person, but it kind of fits.

Speaking of communication, have you thought much about the ongoing struggle to communicate with yourself, and what you’ve learned as a result of this album?

I need some time to think about that one. It’s big.

Save the big ones for the end.

Real big one, yeah! I do feel how I imagine people feel when they’ve been doing a bunch of therapy, where therapy is about picking away the scabs and having a good look at the wounds. I have this weird, manic ecstasy from thinking that you’re confronting these sorts of things. It’s like I’m an alcoholic, and I just want to tell everyone how great AA is. That weird ecstasy that comes from drastic perspective shifts.

I’m just trying to be slow with it and learn to be alone softly and without any pomp and circumstance. I’m having a really interesting and exciting time, where I am starting to feel some sense of individual completeness, which is kind of a new feeling for me.

And a hopeful one, too, I imagine. How do you slow yourself down when you talk about writing an album so quickly? It seems like it’d be tricky to make that momentum shift.

Yeah, it’s tricky, because you make something so quickly and then, by the very nature of what you’re doing, you have to spend so much time talking about it and pouring over it, and I believe you end up inventing the truth afterward. For that reason, I’m either discovering it or inventing it, as I go along. It’s constantly shifting in my hands. You need to be thoughtful and have some degree of slowness and a sense of space and respect for what you’re doing, at that stage.

Lastly, what kind of strings do you use on your guitar?

That’s a very functional question after …

I know!

I just use the Martin Retro strings when I can. Actually, the second album I recorded with an acoustic guitar — an old, beat up one — that I found in the studio because I forgot my guitar.

Oh my goodness. Yeah, and I guess you can’t go back for that once you reach California after leaving New Zealand.

I was kind of stuck.

It sounds beautiful on the album, so good find. That’s lucky.

Aww, thanks. Well, it was a shitty guitar, but sometimes shitty guitars are the ones you want.

Photo credit: Steve Gullick

Hangin’ & Sangin’: Little Bandit

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From the Bluegrass Situation and WMOT Roots Radio, it’s Hangin’ & Sangin’ with your host, BGS editor Kelly McCartney. Every week Hangin’ & Sangin’ offers up casual conversation and acoustic performances by some of your favorite roots artists. From bluegrass to folk, country, blues, and Americana, we stand at the intersection of modern roots music and old time traditions bringing you roots culture — redefined.

With me today at Hillbilly Central, Little Bandit! Or Alex Caress of Little Bandit.

Hi!

…

Breakfast Alone is the album. Nashville Scene voted it best country album of the year!

I can’t believe it!

Frankly, I was shocked and so happy when I saw it.

Yeah, I mean for a really independent record to obviously have made that sort of impact is humbling. It’s awesome.

Yeah, cool. And we premiered a video (“Sinking”) this week on BGS, so you’re just going to town!

Yeah, me and Stacie Huckeba, who directed the video, went up to the river and made sure no one was around and jumped in the river naked. There were some shocked joggers, but it was alright. [Laughs]

…

Well, we mentioned your new video for “Sinking,” but in your “Bed of Bad Luck” video, I appreciate how fully and honestly you represent yourself. You have your fella in there, and you’re making out with him in it, and I feel like … I appreciate it as art, first of all, but I appreciate it as a gay person because that takes the energy; it kind of sucks the air out of the room and it takes the shame out of it. So, then, if anybody does have an issue with who you are, it’s not you, it’s clearly them. Was that kind of part of your thinking, in not just that video, but how you present yourself as who you are?

Yeah I never wanted there to be a question, or have it be “Is he or isn’t he?”

Scuttlebutt.

Yeah, “I heard that he has a boyfriend” or whatever. May as well just put it out there, and I felt like, at the time that it came out was in January of this year, so it just felt like the right moment to be open and to be honest and show the world that I don’t care. [Laughs]

…

Even in [the Americana world], though, do you ever feel tokenized? Othered? Because I go to a lot of shows, and there are very often, probably nine out of 10, I’m probably the only queer in the club. Although I do joke that sometimes Kacey Musgraves is there to help me balance the room. [Laughs] It’s not that I don’t feel welcome; it’s just that I notice, “Okay, I’m the only one. Okay, whatever.”

There is an element of tokenization, is that the word?

Let’s go with it. We could say “tokenigaytion.”

[Laughs] I was hoping that I wasn’t putting myself in that position by having come out of the gate with that video, but for the most part [there’s], been a lot of support and a lot of the right things have come out of it, you know?

At AmericanaFest this year, they invited me to a panel about identity in music with Patterson Hood and Chastity Brown, Rev. Sekou, [and] I felt like, “What am I doing here? I’m just gay!” [Laughs] … But you know, I felt that there might be elements of tokenization — tokenigaytion — but I feel like the conversations that have come out of it have been more valuable than any of that.

Right. And you also run around with a pretty cool group of folks — Margo Price, Adia Victoria, Nikki Lane, and a bunch of other super talented people who also have some element of outlier in their identities, too. So that must help, I would assume.

Yeah we “grew up,” so to speak, at the Five Spot, just hangin’ there every night and playing shows, sort of feeling like outcasts over in East Nashville doing our own thing, before it was “East Nashville,” you know?

…

Musically, you have this classic sound. The outlaw country vibe is all the rage these days, but you go further back than that. You go back to ‘50s, ‘60s — where country, pop, rock ‘n’ roll, rockabilly was sort of all still mushed together. Where did that come from? Was that stuff that you listened to growing up?

Well, growing up, it was a lot of Bob Dylan, Jackson Browne, and my dad loved Roy Orbison and stuff like that.

There it is!

Yeah, and I feel like that contributed a lot to it.

Roy’s kind of the quintessential intersection of all that stuff.

Yeah, and having that sort of drama in the music really appealed to me. [Laughs] Because I did theater, too, and that sort of theatrical thing that you can bring to music and a live show really appealed to me. I love getting on the stage and sort of putting it all out there.

…

Song-wise, what’s so great is that you sketch out the lives — and, more than once, the death — of these marginalized characters, in a song like “Platform Shoes,” for instance. What draws you to those types of stories? And to murder?

There’s nothing like a tragic country song, and there’s something very real and palpable about tragedy and death that you can really wrap your mind around. As far as, you know, murder and all that stuff …

‘Cause it’s not just death, it’s murder. Let’s be clear!

Some of that is thinking about all those old murder ballads and kind of seeing a little bit of the humor in that, and kind of taking that trope and throwing it on its head and making it something a little bit more subversive.

And I’ve noticed in reading about you that I’ve seen the word “sardonic” applied a number of times, and comparisons to Father John Misty and what not. And I get that. That’s definitely there, but I feel like — and you can tell me if I’m getting this right — I feel like there’s a compassion underneath that, in your songs, that I don’t necessarily hear in some of the others in that milieu that write like that.

Right, I mean it’s not supposed to be a comedy show, you know? And it’s not supposed to be 100 percent satire or commentary. There’s a little bit of humanity in there.

It’s like you’re telling it from the inside out rather than an outsider just watching something.

Right. Because, I mean, there’s still humanity in it. There has to be a way to connect to that character’s humanity. And I guess that also brings you back to the theater element, because you put yourself in that person’s shoes, you’re gonna start to feel those emotions, too.

Watch all the episodes on YouTube, or download and subscribe to the Hangin’ & Sangin’ podcast and other BGS programs every week via iTunes, Podbean, or your favorite podcast platform.