Tag: Sam Cooke

The String – Peter Guralnick

Posted on by Chris Jacobs

Journalist and author Peter Guralnick is regarded by many as America’s premiere chronicler of roots music. Besides his influential profiles, compiled into classic volumes in the 1970s and 80s, he wrote magisterial biographies of Elvis Presley, Sam Cooke and Sam Phillips.


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His newest collection, Looking To Get Lost: Adventures In Music And Writing, revisits some of his longtime subjects and adds some important new ones in a work that reveals more about the writer himself than anything he’s published so far. Peter is a literary hero of mine, so this was an exciting conversation.

Raised Along the Country Music Highway, Brit Taylor Was Bound for Nashville

Posted on by Editor

An exquisite singer who is undeniably country, Nashville singer-songwriter Brit Taylor is taking a stand for herself in her debut album, Real Me. It’s an intriguing collection of original songs that position the East Kentucky native as one of Americana music’s most promising artists. After a number of setbacks, ranging from the demise of a marriage to the end of a publishing deal, she contacted producer Dave Brainard to talk about a fresh start. Around the same time, she met Dan Auerbach, who encouraged her to sound like a traditional country singer, even though she’d been told for years that nobody was buying that kind of music anymore.

Emerging from a cloud of depression, Taylor channeled her emotions into song. Then she released Real Me in November, staking her claim as an artist that proudly honors her roots without sounding stuck in the past. Songs like “Waking Up Ain’t Easy” and “Broken Hearts Break” echo her true country influences, too. Talking by phone from her farm, with a few goats roaming nearby, she told BGS about the journey.

BGS: You’ve said that your family wasn’t very musical, but was there music always around as you were growing up?

Taylor: Yeah, I grew up in Eastern Kentucky, right by the Country Music Highway, US 23. So, the culture of country music is super rich around Eastern Kentucky. I grew up singing in the Kentucky Opry Junior Pros in Prestonsburg, Kentucky. I was always singing and playing music every weekend of the summer, and through the Christmas season.

What were those shows like?

It’s kind of like something you would see in Branson. Back when I was a kid, it was booming and tourism was really rich around there. We would sell out shows every Christmas and have to add matinees. I felt like I was in the big time when I was a kid! [Laughs] It’s a really nice theater, too. I saw my first concert there, and it was George Jones. I played there for 10 years, and then I moved to Nashville and started playing tiny bars! It was such a shock, The Junior Pros opened up for the older members who were in the Kentucky Opry. What I was in was just kids. I don’t think anybody was older than 18.

When did you learn to play guitar?

I learned to play guitar in my senior year of high school. I had a vocal coach and I was taking piano lessons. He knew I wanted to move to Nashville. I was very [eager to move]! I was always playing by ear, and I was always frustrating him, because I hated to read music. One day he said, “How are you gonna pack this piano around Nashville?” And I was like, “Well, I don’t know.” He said, “You’re not going to make it in that town unless you learn how to play guitar.”

And I went home and I was like, “Mom, you have to buy me a guitar. Now.” [Laughs] We went to the music store and she didn’t know anything about music. The guitar was a hundred bucks, or two hundred bucks, and my mom said, “I am only spending $50 on this guitar.” I told the guy at the cash register that I would sing him any song that he wanted if I could have that guitar for fifty dollars. I sang him a Fleetwood Mac song and he let me buy the guitar.

You had to overcome a lot of setbacks to get where you are. How did you stay focused and inspired to keep going?

I don’t think I ever thought about the option of quitting. It’s always just been there, that this is what I want to do. There’s never been any other thought. It was hard at times, but it was never like, “I want to do something else.” This is just what it’s always been. I don’t picture life any other way.

What kind of lessons did you learn from your family? Were they good at teaching you a work ethic, focus, and dedication?

Oh yeah. My dad’s an entrepreneur and he was always going against the grain, working for himself. A lot of people don’t understand that, but I came from a family that understood being an entrepreneur and chasing your dreams at all costs. He was also a martial arts instructor and that’s how he got started. So, he always taught me how to fight, whether it was in a karate match, or in real life.

Did you take lessons in martial arts as well?

I did. Dad had me whippin’ ass since I was 4. [Laughs]

How much of this dream you had was about songwriting as well? How important was it to develop your voice as a songwriter?

Oh, I wrote my first song when I was 13. It was terrible, but it came so natural. The structure came natural. I think I had listened to so much country music at that point, it had to come natural. Yeah, I moved to town to write songs. I wanted to be an artist, too, but I definitely wanted to write my own songs. It’s always been a dream to have other people record my songs as well.

Who were some of your heroes when you moved here?

Patty Loveless. I love her. She’s one of my favorite artists. Darrell Scott, and lots of songwriters, too. I grew up listening to a lot of Elvis and oldies. I sang a lot of Patsy Cline and Loretta Lynn growing up. The Judds, Dwight Yoakam, all those Kentucky artists.

Were you listening to the words even back then?

Every single word. My dad’s favorite story to tell is about when we were on the way to Myrtle Beach. I was always my dad’s little sidekick and I would sit in the front seat while my mom and my brother would nap in the back. We were listening to Sam Cooke. The line in the song was, “My baby’s gone and she ain’t coming back.” And my dad called me his baby. I was 4 years old, and I think I thought that song was about the man’s daughter. Dad said he looked over and saw me crying, and he said, “What’s wrong, baby?” And I said, “Why won’t his baby come back to him, Daddy?” [Laughs] I’m just sitting over there bawling, listening to Sam Cooke, and it’s not even about what I thought it was about, but it hit me.

Did you go to college in Nashville?

Murfreesboro. I moved here to go to school for music business at MTSU.

What do you remember about those early days, finally being so close to Nashville?

Oh my gosh, it was the best time of my life! I felt like such an adult. I’ve always been a little ahead of myself, I think, and just being on my own, getting to make my own decisions because I’m really independent, was just the best time time in my life. I had already started writing songs and co-writing songs, and I was just ready.

I moved here when I was 19 and I remember that feeling of excitement. It feels like the whole world is in front of you.

Oh, it does. That’s the cool thing about living on the farm, too. I remember when I would drive from Murfreesboro to Nashville, or Kentucky to Nashville, seeing the skyline of Nashville is so exciting! It’s just glorious! It still makes my heart drop because I’m not in it every day. So when I get to drive to town, it’s still really special.

Are you living on a farm now?

Yeah, I live out in Mount Juliet, outside of Nashville, and I’ve got a little over three acres. And I adore it! I don’t know if it’s because I grew up this way, but there’s some kind of peace about it when you can be out in the woods. I’m an animal lover. My next thing I want to get, with these goats, is these miniature donkeys. [Laughs] And you can’t really have those in Nashville.

Where did that love of animals come from?

Oh, I’ve always had animals. My dad’s a big animal lover. And his dad had llamas, emu, ostriches, donkeys, horses… I mean, he was always getting some kind of crazy animal. And apparently I’ve taken on that role in the family.

I think animals can bring comfort in stressful times. Is that the case for you?

Yeah, I can’t look at these little Pygmy goats and not smile. They’re just hilarious! And they make me happy. The music industry is full of ups and downs, and life in general is full of ups and downs, and it’s so easy to walk outside and be grounded in nature. It’s just being in nature and watching the animals running around, because they don’t have to think about anything. They’re just hollering for some more hay.

When you listen to Real Me now, what goes through your mind?

I’m grateful. I just listened to it and I’m grateful. I’m just as much in love with this record as I was in the process of making it. I still listen to it and get butterflies.

Photo credit: David McClister

WATCH: Candi Staton, “I Wonna Holla”

Posted on by Editor

Artist: Candi Staton
Single: “I Wonna Holla”
Album: It’s Time to Be Free (2016)
Release Date: June 19, 2020 (video)

In Their Words: “I’m so proud to be among the men, women and children of all races, marching together to end systemic racism, police brutality, [and] to reform the criminal justice system. When I saw George Floyd literally being lynched by a white police officer in the eyes of the whole world, my soul and my spirit wept. It brought back so many unpleasant memories from my own life.*

“Then I remembered ‘I Wonna Holla,’ a song I wrote years ago. Sometimes it’s hard to describe pain, tears and emotions. It makes you feel like you’re losing it, but this song says it all — ‘It Makes Me Wonna Holla!’ Now I really, really do want to holla! This song represents the language of the unheard. I will be donating to organizations like Black Lives Matter and others who are fighting to further the cause to stop police brutality, and those helping to rebuild small businesses that were looted while protesters were marching against this injustice.” — Candi Staton

*As a teenager in the 1950s, Staton worked the gospel circuit with Sam Cooke, where she and her musicians were victims of segregation and racial profiling. In 1963, she was in Birmingham, Alabama, and experienced the chaos and heartbreak on the day of the 16th Street church bombing.

Photo credit: Drea Nicole

MIXTAPE: John Craigie’s “Can We Learn From History?” Playlist

Posted on by Editor

When I was a kid I was obsessed with music. From as far back as I have memories I loved every aspect of it. However, it wasn’t until I started watching older movies and TV shows and becoming educated that I became aware of music as a historical record. Shows like The Wonder Years and Forrest Gump (and others) made me realize that music was telling me a story of what had happened in the past and how we could learn from it. As much as I wanted to be a musician to heal people individually from their darkness, I also wanted to become a musician to inspire large-scale change like my heroes Nina Simone, Pete Seeger, Ani DiFranco and other countless heroes that used their voice to echo what many musicians have been saying since the dawn of human connection I assume.

Here are some of my favorite songs in that vein. — John Craigie

Nina Simone – “The Backlash Blues”

I seriously could have picked any one of her amazing performances, but this one always stood out to me. So direct and in your face. So powerful and moving. It put so much in perspective for my young ears and mind.

John Lennon and Yoko Ono – “Power to the People”

I was always a serious Beatles fan as a kid, but it took me a while to discover John’s solo work outside of “Imagine” and “Instant Karma!” As soon as I got interested in protest music I kept finding such great songs from him and this one has always been a favorite.

Curtis Mayfield – “Move on Up”

When I was in my first band in college I got interested in Curtis Mayfield after hearing the whole album Superfly and falling in love with the bass lines. Taken from his debut album as a solo artist after the Impressions, I’ve included the single version for easy digestion. However, if you can’t get enough I suggest checking out the nine-minute album version.

Buffalo Springfield – “For What It’s Worth”

Most people know this song as the beautiful anthem that it is, and surely still stands the test of time. However, a lot of people forget that this is Stephen Stills and Neil Young before they were in CSNY. I always loved the peaceful and soothing nature of the guitars and harmonics while the lyrics spoke of what was happening all around and begging us to not ignore it.

Richie Havens – “Freedom (Live)”

Legend has it that this song was created on the spot at the Woodstock festival in August of 1969. Richie was slated to go first, and since the promoters weren’t ready with the second band (not to mention many other things) they kept making him go back out after he had finished his set. After several encores he didn’t know what to play so he freestyled this beautiful song. You can feel everything that is going on in the state of the world through his passionate delivery of these simple lyrics.

Bob Dylan – “The Times They Are A-Changin’”

I admit it does feel a bit cliché to add this to the mix but I’ve always felt it was a huge inspiration to me and catalyst for my songwriting. Embarrassingly enough, I first heard this on The Wonder Years when I was about 11 years old. I had no idea what it was but I felt like it had been written that day for exactly what I was going through and seeing in my community of Los Angeles at that time. When I got a guitar a few years later, it was one of the first songs I wanted to learn.

Marvin Gaye – “What’s Going On”

Like most people, I associated Marvin Gaye early on as smooth, sexy date music. Something to put on in the dorm room when your girlfriend was coming by. But I remember getting a little pamphlet from my local record store of “essential landmark albums.” Having never heard of What’s Going On but trusting Marvin I got that album and it has been a favorite ever since. This is the first track on side 1 and it says everything about injustice so beautifully.

Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young – “Ohio”

I’ve read that Neil heard about the Kent State shootings and was so emotionally affected that he wrote this song immediately and soon after they went in the studio to record it. The shootings happened on May 4, 1970 and the single was out just a couple weeks later on May 21. It’s hard to listen to right now with the state of the world as it is, and was probably hard to listen to then. Yet a moment in time we should never forget and never stop learning from.

Aretha Franklin – “Think”

I truly wish Aretha was still with and screaming “freedom” like she does on this track. This track, along with “Respect,” were some of the first songs I heard from her as a young man and felt so inspired by her voice and passion. As tumultuous as 1968 must have been, 2020 feels right in line and this song speaks volumes to the lessons we can learn from our past.

Bruce Springsteen – “Born in the U.S.A.” (Demo Version)

To be honest, for the longest time I didn’t like this song. I grew up with the popular album version of this song blaring out of every dad’s speakers and even though I liked Bruce I just felt this song was so cheesy. It also seemed blindly patriotic and I never bothered to listen to the lyrics. It wasn’t until much later that I was digging through some demos that they had released that I heard this version. Once you sit and hear the lyrics against this minor chord backdrop it stands out as a great protest song.

Sam Cooke – “A Change is Gonna Come”

Closing out the playlist with a bit of optimism coming from the eternal Sam Cooke. Written as a response to the many instances of racism he was privy to, specifically when he and his band were turned away from a whites-only motel in Louisiana. This song will always work as a soundtrack to a revolution whose work seems like it’s never done. But hopefully we can learn from history and see how far we’ve come and have hope that we can keep going farther.

Photo credit: Bradley Cox

BGS 5+5: Ruthie Foster

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Artist: Ruthie Foster
Hometown: Austin, Texas
Latest album: Live at the Paramount

Which artist has influenced you the most … and how?

Sam Cooke. Growing up in a mostly gospel singing family, Sam Cooke’s music was playing on the stereo all of the time. He was not only the most melodic gospel soloist I’d ever heard, but he could sing anything from popular songs to fronting a full band with horns, changing stylistically as a singer (Sam Cooke at The Copa). I’d like to think that my music brings a similar energy to the live stage, which is why I decided to record with a big band on my latest release.

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

I was about 10 years old sitting on the front pew in my family’s church in central Texas watching and listening to my uncle sing a solo one Sunday afternoon. He’d sang the song many times before but this time it was different. Tears were streaming down his cheeks, his voice was shaky, and he had his hand on my other uncle’s shoulder, who was playing the piano. Visibly moved, he changed the energy in the entire congregation. Everyone was crying, me too. I knew then that singing was a true gift that can be used to elevate.

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

I have a tough time finishing songs when I’m in my head too much; I’ve had no problem starting them at all. “Singing The Blues” is a perfect example. At the time I was getting a little pressure about writing for my next album and I resisted. Touring a lot while house searching from the road and trying to write was stressful. It wasn’t until I decided to put those feelings on paper when I realized that the song was really about my life. So I was able to start and finish it, “Trying to find a new home, trying to write a new song. Trying to find a rhythm, that’ll help me get through it, singing the blues”.

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

I love to cook at home when I’m off the road. One of my favorites is baked fish with garlic, fresh dill, seasonal vegetables, and a good wine. I always prep and pair that dish with one of my favorite singers, Tony Bennett!

What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?

One night onstage at a festival I started to lose my voice from really bad allergies. I tried to sing but after a few songs, I was straining and in extreme pain. I stopped and apologized for not being able to continue, but someone in the audience started singing the lyrics for me, then there were more people joining in on a few more songs and before I knew it, the set was complete and sung entirely by my beautiful fans while I played guitar for them! They had lifted and carried me through the show! I was incredibly moved and grateful.

Ruthie Foster – “Singing The Blues”

I’m very proud of being brave enough to tell my own story about how I came to the blues.

Sam Cooke – “Bring It On Home To Me”

Sam was soulful and a skillful in the music business, owning all of his own publishing.

Tedeschi Trucks Band – “Midnight In Harlem”

This tune reminds me of learning to adapt to my new environment while writing songs when lived in NYC.

Bill Withers – “Grandma’s Hands”

This one captures how I felt about my own “Big Mama” and reminds me of how she still sings through me.

Sister Rosetta Tharpe – “Singing in My Soul”

The very first and baddest rocking mama on guitar ever! Huge influence on my playing.

Photo Credit: Yellow House Studios

BGS 5+5: Paul Burch

Posted on by Editor

Artist: Paul Burch
Hometown: Currently Nashville, Tennessee. I was born in Washington, D.C.
Latest album: Light Sensitive
Personal nicknames (or rejected band names): The members of Lambchop call me WP

Which artist has influenced you the most … and how?

Bob Dylan and Hank Williams were the twin Apollos of songwriting in my youth. And I loved the fearlessness of Roger Miller. Elvis Presley — when inspired — gave his audience his soul. But the four writers who most echo my temperament and drove me to compose are Chuck Berry, Smokey Robinson, John Prine, and Sam Cooke.

Smokey has a gift for literacy. “I Second That Emotion.” John, like Hank Williams, had the gift for sincerity. The taller the tale, the greater the parable. John was seldom at the center of his songs so much as caught up in the center. He could be both in the story and above it. Sam was easy on the ears. “Cupid.” “Having a Party.” “A Change Is Gonna Come.” A Sam Cooke title was exactly what the song was about. By all accounts he was a man of sharp intelligence, a true believer in decency, a hater of bullshit, and a fan of all kinds of music. Chuck could make the past contemporary and the here-and-now heroic. “Johnny B. Goode” is like a film coming into focus — so much detail delivered in less than 20 seconds. “Deep down in Louisiana close to New Orleans / way back up in the woods among the evergreens / there stood a log cabin made of earth and wood / where lived a country boy named Johnny B. Goode.”

All of these writers feel like my relatives. Something bubbles inside me when I hear them. All four had a touch of melancholy which they employed to remind you to keep having that party. Chuck is the poet of rock ‘n’ roll. Smokey is the poet of time and place. John was Jimmie Rodgers crossed with Mark Twain and inspired Sam Phillips to come out of retirement. And Sam — well — Sam was Mr. Soul.

What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?

I was playing on my own in a bar in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, one Saturday night. It was about 90 degrees at midnight. All I had was a microphone and an electric guitar and a little 15-watt amp. To try to keep the show dynamic, I kept a tick-tack rhythm on the bass strings when I sang and then added loud accents in between the verses. There were about 10 couples or so dancing in front of me and I could hear the scrape of their shoes on the dance floor.

I thought to myself: “This must have been what Charley Patton heard when he played a dance — the sound of the dancer’s shoes on the floor.” It was so wonderful to think I was doing well enough with what little I had that I could keep them dancing. It made me appreciate that audiences are willing to meet you more than halfway. The intensity of what you’re doing is more important than volume.

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

I get dreamy over paintings and great photography. I love the photography that Sheila Sachs and Catie Baumer Schwalb took for Light Sensitive.

Film noir is great for a sense of place and for the dialogue. So much had to be conveyed by gesture or innuendo. It was years before I realized that when Ilsa goes to see Rick in Casablanca for the letters of transit, the spotlight tells you they made love one last time. Every time I see it, the ending feels different. I used to think he gave her away. But then you remember Rick said he doesn’t deal in buying and selling people — and that extended to love, too. Now I see that Ilsa was always going to be trouble. She was right for Paris, just nowhere else. And life can never just be about Paris. Even if you live in Paris.

Also, in a film — like in songs — everybody has a job. The cab driver is important when you need that cab. Lately, I’ve been paying close attention to plays and musicals, listening for the rhythm and syncopation in dialogue. Frank Loesser’s songs for Guys and Dolls are spectacular. “I got horse right here / his name is Paul Revere…can do!” Louis Jordan’s songs sounds like musicals to my ear. I’m always on the hunt for an idea. I’m a flint and life is a white-tipped match.

What rituals do you have, either in the studio or before a show?

If I’m recording, I love walking into a studio with a fresh reel of tape under my arm, knowing that when I walk out the door, we will have created something that didn’t exist on Earth a few hours before. When I perform, I take time to walk all around the venue to get an idea of what the show will feel like from every vantage point. I like to talk to the sound engineer — usually someone I’ve never met — to get an idea what their job is like, if it’s a hard venue to deal with.

I ask them if they think the sound in the venue will respond to the kind of show I want to do. I try to make them feel like it’s our performance, not mine. Before the show, I think about my favorite people and my favorite performers. I’ll often write old friends just before a show — “How ya doin?” — just to demystify the whole thing. Other than having a new song in your pocket, there are few better feelings than walking on a stage at the beginning of a show.

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

I often imagine a perfect day of music would be some kind of outdoor event with a pile of fried catfish, margaritas, and then a show at twilight with a great lineup of the WPA Ballclub. In reality, outdoor shows are usually a drag. Bugs, bad sound, the drummer falls into the generator. I do think loud guitars and BBQ go together pretty well.

I used to stare at a photo of Little Richard playing at Wrigley Field with his band in the ’50s and thought it was the perfect gig. It must have been hot because the band were all wearing plaid shorts. Now that I’m older, I realize they were probably miserable — with an out-of-tune piano, distorted amps, and a lousy PA. But you know that first beer and smoke after the show must have been delicious.

As for a particular musician and food pairing, I hear that in the 1930s, all the jazz joints served Chinese food. If I could have seen Charlie Christian play guitar or heard Billie Holiday sing in a little joint with Teddy Wilson on piano over a hot plate of home-cooked crispy duck, I would have been very happy.

Photo credit: Emily Beaver

BGS 5+5: Hot Buttered Rum

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Artist: Hot Buttered Rum
Hometown: San Francisco, California
Latest album: Something Beautiful

What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?

Years ago, we were at Bean Blossom, Indiana. We were a very new band at that point and we played a set in the afternoon. We’d been hanging a bit with Peter Rowan, so he invited us to play in his set that evening. I stepped onstage to find myself next to Tony Rice! I felt completely out of my league, and by every measure, I was. At one point, solos were being passed down the stage. Tony took a ripping solo, of course, and then it was my turn. Yes, I had to take a guitar solo after Tony Rice. The audience was empathetic and gave me a sympathy clap. And Tony said “haw!” — Nat Keefe

What rituals do you have, either in the studio or before a show?

Coffee is very important. Even if I have a set at midnight, 1 a.m. — whenever — I get good coffee in me an hour beforehand. No matter how much I drink before I play, I never have trouble burning through it on stage. I set myself up with a cup and I get my right hand going with the rolls. Caffeine with the left hand, banjo with the right. If I have time to drink that coffee slow enough and play those rolls fast enough, I walk onstage feeling damn near superhuman. — Erik Yates

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

“Give it up.” That’s about it. All the artists I love have their own way of talking about this. When I give, I end up creating so much more, instead of dragging down the next round of work with what I want, whether I’m good enough, whether I’m gonna make as big a splash as my friend or my hero or the new voice on the scene. None of that matters to the damn song. What matters to the song is that it gets made, that it gets out into the world and that other people get to hear it and do what they wanna do with it. Maybe they’ll walk down the aisle to it. Maybe they’ll laugh at it. Maybe they’ll close their eyes and sway back and forth when they hear it. All of that is fine, all of that is welcome. What I want is to give it up, give it away, set it free. — Erik Yates

How often do you hide behind a character in a song or use “you” when it’s actually “me”?

Actually, it’s often the opposite. Early on, my dad challenged me to write songs from different points of view. It’s liberating! You can be an observer, and it’s not always about you and your feelings. A good example of this is my tune, “Desert Rat.” — Nat Keefe

Which elements of nature do you spend the most time with and how do those impact your work?

I’m a mountain person at heart. I think we all are, the band guys. That was how this thing started with us. Since bluegrass is from the old mountains in Appalachia, when we first started writing together we went up as high as we could in the new mountains out West, our Sierra, and listened as closely as we could to what those places were saying. We had this grand idea of making mountain music out here that could reach across time to the mountain music out there, and maybe tickle the Rockies too on its way past. Our best towns have always been mountain towns. This music speaks so well there. — Erik Yates

Photo credit: Matt Sharkey

BGS 5+5: Sean McConnell

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Artist: Sean McConnell
Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee
Latest album: Secondhand Smoke

Which artist has influenced you the most … and how?

I would have to say David Wilcox. When I was beginning to write songs as a kid, David was a massive influence on me as a songwriter, guitar player, and vocalist. Nobody writes a hook like David Wilcox. He’s the king. Songs like “Language of the Heart” and “Show the Way” are still to this day on my desert island list.

What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?

One of them would have to be playing two back-to-back sold out shows at the historic Gruene Hall last year in New Braunfels, Texas. Taking the stage both nights with a thousand people singing my songs back to me was completely intoxicating. The energy was [unlike anything] I’ve never experienced before.

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

Literature is a big one for me. I’ve always been a big reader. I don’t read books to intentionally look for song ideas. It’s more that what I’m reading expands my worldview, opinions, spirituality, and such. That then directly affects what I’m writing songs about. That is most definitely the case with my latest record, Secondhand Smoke.

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

The moment I played a chord on a guitar I just knew it. That sounds like a bullshit line out of a movie, but I can’t deny that it’s true. I first learned to play on my mothers 70s Yamaha. I had a chord book and figured out the basics. From the moment I felt those chords start ringing under my fingers I was hooked. Later on I would sneak up to my parents bedroom and take my fathers Taylor 515 Jumbo from underneath the bed and that only confirmed my addiction.

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

What a great question. I think Glen Hansard pairs well with a strong IPA and a basket of fish and chips.

Photo credit: Joshua Black Wilkins

The Garden of Gospel Music: A Conversation with Phil Cook

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The motivation for Phil Cook’s unapologetically familiar gospel sound is simple: he LOVES that style of music and the people he’s learned it from. At times he veers into Appalachian instrumentation, reflecting his current North Carolina surroundings, and there’s individuality and innovation aplenty. But this Wisconsin kid and his band never stray far from a black gospel blueprint, incorporating backing choirs, tinkling piano stabs, organ that’s more Booker T. than Benmont T., and a vocal delivery that’s loose and expressive.

On his new album, People Are My Drug, Cook invites us to marvel gratefully and joyfully at the greatness of so many people whose creativity and communal originality have flourished under oppression, as well as those who hold the weight of the world within their silence.

There is a definite space that People Are My Drug lives in. I’d love to hear your thoughts on that. 

I’m lucky. If I’ve learned anything, it’s to surround yourself with people that know what they’re doing, have a lot of experience, and have something to say. I can possess those things, not all at the same damn time, but if I’m surrounded by other people, I feel safer to be that multiplicity. So my circle starts with my brother, as a producer who knows me better than any other and helps me deliver the most honest statement that I can make. He knows when I’m hiding and helps me stand up tall and be who I have to be to do the thing.

From there, all the musicians in the band – we essentially made the record in two days. Most everything was made in a studio in Wisconsin, which happens to be owned and operated by my old friend Justin Vernon. So we brought the whole crew up, and we holed up in a live room, the four of us – drums, bass, keys, and me. We played for two straight days and didn’t leave the room. We trusted the people across the house were doing their job.

And that’s where this record starts: trust. I am surrounded by musicians that I trust more than anyone else in that moment on stage or in the studio, and we made that a bubble. Then after we were done we had a nice dinner and went into the control room and listened to the record that we’d just made. We were laughing and smiling at each other. There are little moments that happen all over the place. We start out “He Gives Us All His Love,” and I was like, “Bass, I love ya.” And when we listened back to it, that’s exactly what the vibe of the entire record is, that fraternal kind of vibe.

Speaking of fraternity, “He Gives Us All His Love” stirs me to feel universally connected to humankind, more brotherhood of man than fatherhood of God. Is that what you were going for?

Yeah! It’s my favorite Randy Newman song off of Sail Away because it’s the one time he lets his sardonic humor-guard down for a very simple song about gratefulness and generosity, and I like that a lot. Funny story, we sang our version of that song for the first time and halfway through it a woman in the front row looks up at me with a little smile and goes, “How do you know it’s a ‘he’?” and immediately switched the entire perspective of the song. And the rest of the song we sang “She gives us all her love.” I was like, “Well, this is how we’re gonna perform it from now on!”

And that’s the kind of spontaneous moment that you have to pay attention to as a musician, to be open when something passes by and be like, “That’s it! Cool! Switch directions. Let’s hit this.” And you trust. It made for a really beautiful moment at a hometown show. So yeah, I do feel that the fraternity, the brotherhood of man, is the heart and soul of how gospel music plays a role in my life. It’s much more of a family, a community. That’s the togetherness of space that I think the center of this record is.

What I ultimately got out of a childhood in church was this great community that was really supportive of me being who I was. They saw a little kid with glasses in Wisconsin, and they told me to keep being who I want to be. That’s what every kid deserves. And as much as I walked away from church, when something is a part of you in your childhood, you can’t just walk away from it. It’s going to be a part of you for the rest of your life, even if you don’t have a weekly interaction with it.

And I think gospel music in general has been a part of me having this continual, ongoing dialogue with my faith and my questions in a deeper way that feels really real, that feels like a real practice, nothing about dogma, nothing about a system. It’s not gonna work for everybody, but I was able to dial back my anxiety medication after two or three years pretty much listening to quartet black gospel music and getting into it until I started to feel it.

What is it about gospel music that connects you to that human moment?

Well, gospel music is the original garden of all music that comes out of America. On one side you’ve got the blues, which way more people in the white community are familiar with. That’s ubiquitous. A lot of people know who Robert Johnson is, Buddy Guy, B.B. King, even someone more eclipsing, like Jimi Hendrix. A lot of those artists were torn their whole lives between what they were doing for money and what they were doing on Sunday morning.

Religion never left them either. Religion gave them so much. So even blues artists weren’t free of that spiritual paradox. If you look at some of the greatest singers, they all came out of this garden of the church. Aretha, Curtis Mayfield, Sam Cooke, all the Staples Singers – a vast number that were able to have a safe space as they were growing up. The safest space they could find was church, the place where they were able to seed and plant their art and their voice.

The church was also the source of this friendly competition with players raised up there. You’ve got young kids in the wings watching every single move that you’re doing, and they’re going home and practicing. It creates a whole circle of virtuosity and innovation. It was the only place for it to thrive, and, damnit, it thrived. It changed the entire world. Most of those artists went on to big careers in soul music and left the church in some ways. The church didn’t leave them though. That was with them the entire way.

I appreciate the way in this album you direct attention toward others and away from yourself. I’ve cried twice this morning listening to “Another Mother’s Son.”

It’s heavy. I had my own experience with almost losing my youngest son when he was born to some complications with respiratory stuff. You get close to almost losing the thing that you hold most precious, even though you just met him. Your family is forced to grip with the possibility that things aren’t gonna turn out ok. I don’t know who isn’t gonna be affected by a situation like that in a way that’s gonna crack your heart wide open. And what happens after that is really important.

He came home from the hospital and I put him to bed; we’d had an incredible family day. I felt like, “Oh, my family is so strong. I’m so thankful for this family. We’re gonna get through this life together and it’s gonna be ok.” And then I checked Instagram and saw the video that Philando Castile’s girlfriend, Diamond, took of the police officer after [the officer] shot him multiple times with her daughter in the back seat of the car. In that moment it was the juxtaposition of how safe I was feeling, how strong my family felt, to seeing a young man who was such a giving soul ripped so violently from his own mother, who called him her miracle child.

She wasn’t supposed to be able to have kids and she had a son, Philando Castile. And then this broken-ass justice system completely stole him away from her and everyone else that loved him. And it just hit me way harder than it normally would have because of what I went through. Often times you go through something and then maybe days, months, years down the line, something else will happen that will give you a whole new perspective on what you experienced initially.

The second fold was one of my bandmates, a phenomenally gifted musician and gregarious, incredible human being, Brevan [Hampden], who came over one night to meet [my son] Amos. Brevan was raised by his mother, who had three boys, all black men in America growing up. We sat on the porch drinking beers, and the talk turned to all this stuff. I love Brevan with all my heart. We’ve gone through a lot in our lives as musicians together in just a few years. And I think that moment just a few days after Philando Castile’s death really delivered home the two worlds that are so separate in this country. What some mothers don’t have to worry about. And what some mothers have to live in fear of every single day. And no matter how hard they sandbag and prepare against the terrible reality that could happen, their black son is walking out the door every day with a target on his chest. There’s no guarantees.

Brevan was raised sternly about how to interact with police, body language, tone of voice, every single thing. It was so foreign to me to listen to that, growing up in northern Wisconsin, the diversity-free capitol of the world. I knew all the police officers in Chippewa Falls. They all knew my mom and dad. I don’t know how many benefits of a doubt I got because of that. I can’t ignore that. I’m gonna go through the rest of my life grateful that it’s never happened to me. It’s a poisonous system, and I moved south to get away from indifference, so I could be in more of an interactive dialogue with communities that didn’t look, think, and act like me.

Photo credit: Josh Wool (Top); Graham Tolbert (Middle)

‘Nathaniel Rateliff and the Night Sweats’

Posted on by Editor

The ghost of Sam Cooke seems a little restless these days. Back in June, soul-man-of-the-moment Leon Bridges resurrected the smooth side of Sam with his debut set, Coming Home. This month, Missouri-raised folkmeister Nathaniel Rateliff and his band, the Night Sweats, reincarnate the dirtier side of the original Soul Stirrer with this set of 11 songs that tug at the heart of rhythm and blues.

It’s only appropriate Rateliff and his crew of sweaty men would drop this bundle of wax on the venerable Stax imprint, as the singer channels not only Sam Cooke, but just about every major vibe that’s been built below the Mason-Dixon line. Rateliff gathers the gospel and drowns it in the grits and gravy on the foot-pounding first song, “I Need Never Get Old,” shuffles down the dark alleys of Memphis with “Howling at Nothing,” and thumps the tub of rock 'n' roll with “Trying So Hard Not to Know.” There’s a street corner swing to the lovely four-part harmonizer “I’ve Been Falling”; “Look It Here” has the same four-on-the-floor as the album’s opener; and the oddly named “S.O.B.” riffs vocal riffs straight from the Baptist Church of Birmingham.

Everything here is drenched in reverb and mixed at a distance, as if you’re standing in the middle of a house party and the players are hanging out in a bunch of different rooms. It’s a strange experience at first but, after a cut or two, it all begins to make sense. The end result is a top-quality cadre of rough and tumble tunes that speak to the archangel but rock like the devil.