Artist: Amy Irving Hometown: San Francisco, California Latest Album: Always Will Be (out April 25, 2025)
What has been the best advice you’ve received in your career so far?
I’ve been an actor all my life. I began on this new path, making music with the band GOOLIS, a few years back. And I’ve been learning so much from them, especially our band leader Jules David Bartkowski.
I remember going into the studio to record our sophomore album, Always Will Be, and Jules suggested I improvise some. Well, let me tell you, as an actress, I had been traumatized in acting school improv class. I was never comfortable acting without a script. I’ve always considered my gift was in interpreting playwrights’ words. So, when I sang, I followed the notes exactly. But Jules and Aaron, our keyboardist, insisted that I try. I complained my mistakes would be so loud and they replied, “Oh yeah, Amy, we never make mistakes here.” Okay, I got it. I did it. And now you can’t keep me down on the farm.
What rituals do you have, either in the studio or before a show?
Before every show, after sound check, I retreat to my dressing room, to meditate and rest my voice. It’s a time to conserve my energy. I eat some protein that will not talk to me on the stage. Half a beta blocker keeps my hands from shaking. I do a vocal warmup, either alone with a taped class or over FaceTime with my wonderful vocal coach, Celeste Simone. Gabriel Barreto, my son and manager and record producer and photographer, then digs his elbows into my tight shoulders. When it’s five minutes to showtime, I usually run to the bathroom and have to throw up (yes, I get terrible stage fright), knock back a shot of tequila, then Jules leads us all in an exercise of shaking all the tension from each part of our bodies.
Genre is dead (long live genre!), but how would you describe the genres and styles your music inhabits?
Working with bandleader Jules is a thrill, because our music covers so many genres, once he decides on his arrangements. He has taken the songs of Willie Nelson and transformed them from punk rock to samba.
Broadly speaking, Jules was going for a kind of golden age of mid- to late-century global pop/rock approach. To offer a more specific example: the first song of the record Always Will Be, “Dream Come True,” was, for Jules, an attempt to channel 1960s Italian rock acts like Mina and Adriano Celentano, while throwing in some Vegas-style late Elvis maximalism and some doo-wop baritone sax. On the song “Getting Over You,” he was trying to find an intersection between The Clash and The Supremes. On “Everywhere I Go” he was trying to mix the Mexican influence of the original with the connected worlds of Klezmer and Balkan music and 1970s Ethiopian jazz.
Since food and music go so well together, what is your dream pairing of a meal and a musician?
I’d like to eat foie gras and fig jam on a baguette with a glass of pinot noir while Édith Piaf sings to me “Non, je ne regrette rien.”
Does pineapple really belong on pizza?
I think anything goes. I remember a long time ago when Wolfgang Puck first opened Spagos on Sunset Boulevard in Los Angeles, I was appalled to see “Jewish Pizza” on the menu. Well, it was smoked salmon and cream cheese pizza and I’m here to tell you it was delicious!
On January 9, 2025, there will be a special performance – more so a once-in-a-lifetime celebration – of the groundbreaking music of Old & In the Way at Nashville’s famed Ryman Auditorium.
Led by the “Bluegrass Buddha” himself, Peter Rowan, the legendary singer-songwriter and founding member of the group will be backed by the Sam Grisman Project. The gathering will also feature a murderers’ row of talent: Sam Bush, Tim O’Brien, Lindsay Lou, Ronnie & Rob McCoury, and more.
“In bluegrass, you just do the beautiful grace of presenting the music, being good neighbors and all that stuff,” Rowan told BGS in an exclusive 2022 interview. “But you could hear us in the band going, ‘go, man, go.’ Go for it, that’s where we came from. That’s what Old & In the Way was – the ‘go for it’ signal to everybody.”
To preface, Old & In the Way started as impromptu pickin’-n-grinnin’ sessions in the early 1970s between Rowan, his longtime friend, mandolin guru David Grisman, and Jerry Garcia, iconic guitarist for the Grateful Dead, who reached for his trusty banjo during the gatherings at Garcia’s home in Stinson Beach, California.
“We started picking every night after supper [at Jerry’s],” Rowan remembers. “We went through old song books and learned a bunch of material.”
At the time, Garcia was searching for new avenues of creative exploration, seeing as the Dead were in the midst of taking a much-needed hiatus after years of relentless touring and recording. He was also, perhaps subconsciously, trying to tap back into his roots before the Dead, this landscape of the late 1950s/early 1960s where Garcia was heavily involved in the San Francisco Bay Area folk scene.
“And you realized that Jerry was an intergalactic traveler, just dropping in on the Earth scene for a little while, but he was totally at home,” Rowan says of Garcia’s restless penchant and lifelong thirst for acoustic music.
When Old & In the Way formed in 1973, the trio recruited bassist John Kahn, as well as a revolving cast of fiddlers (Richard Greene, John Hartford, Vassar Clements). Sporadic gigs were booked around the Bay Area, with the vibe of the whole affair casual in nature – the ethos one of camaraderie and collaboration, but without expectations or boundaries.
“I remember singing the ending of ‘Land of the Navajo’ at the first rehearsal and I looked over at Jerry,” Rowan recalls. “He kept nodding his head like, ‘go.’ It was like Jack Kerouac at Allen Ginsberg’s poetry reading at City Lights Bookstore – ‘go, man, go.’ Encouragement, encouragement.”
By 1974, Old & In the Way simply vanished into the cosmic ether, but not before capturing a handful of live performances that have become melodic sacred texts of a crucial crossroads for acoustic music. To note, Old & In the Way’s 1975 self-titled debut album went on to become the bestselling bluegrass album of all-time – until it was dethroned by the O Brother, Where Art Thou? soundtrack released in 2000.
As it stands today, Rowan, now 82 years old, is the only remaining member of Old & In the Way still actively performing. Garcia, Clements, Kahn, and Hartford have all sadly passed on, with the elder Grisman and Greene retired from touring. Grisman’s son, standup bassist Sam Grisman, is now carrying his father’s bright torch.
And although the tenure of the Old & In the Way was short-lived, the ripple effects of the band’s ongoing influence and enduring legacy remains as vibrant and vital as it was those many years ago, when a handful of shaggy music freaks kicked off a jam that will perpetuate for eternity.
In preparation for the upcoming Old & In the Way showcase at the Ryman on January 9, BGS recently spoke with Sam Grisman, who talked at-length not only about his continued work with Peter Rowan and the intricacies of Jerry Garcia, but also why a band Grisman’s father started over a half-century ago still captivates the hearts and minds of music lovers the world over.
You were five years old when Jerry Garcia passed away. You were really young, but do you remember anything that you hold onto?
Sam Grisman: Yeah, I have a very vivid memory of what our house felt like, smelled like, and just what the energy was like when Jerry was around. And I remember that sort of ease, just the way that he made people feel. It seemed like my parents were at ease when he was around.
And he probably felt at ease being around them. It was probably a safe haven at that house.
Definitely. And, you know, my parents smoked weed in the house. But, my mom was pretty strict about cigarettes. [She] wouldn’t let anybody smoke cigarettes in the house. But, when Jerry was around, he smoked cigarettes in the house. So, part of this smell in my blurry five-year-old memory is the smell of cigarettes. And Jerry would sometimes wear a leather jacket, maybe the smell of leather.
I remember the sound of his laugh. I remember all that music, and some of it I remember so vividly that I just know that part of that memory is reinforced by being there as a little toddler when they were working up [music]. Because they would often work on tunes upstairs in the living room and then take them down to the studio, put them on the mics and pull them.
You just wanted to be around it all and soak it all in.
I was a really curious kid.
With the Ryman show coming up, there’s been a lot of celebration of Old & In the Way as of late, especially with you touring with Peter Rowan and the current Jerry Garcia exhibit at the Bluegrass Hall of Fame & Museum. You’ve been around those songs your whole life. But, when you think about the context of Old & In the Way, and what you’re doing at the Ryman, what really sticks out with why that was such a special time in not only bluegrass, but in the lives of those people?
I mean, what a lightning-in-the-bottle chapter of all those people’s lives, you know? I think 1973, ’73/’74, was a particularly fertile time for Jerry. He was playing a full schedule with the Dead. He had Jerry Garcia Band stuff. He was playing in Old & In the Way. He was playing pedal steel with the New Riders of the Purple Sage. It seemed like he really had an itch to go back to where his roots were, especially when you look at [the Grateful Dead album] Workingman’s Dead [that was released a] couple years prior.
For all of us, who are looking back on it 50 years in the future, it seems like this momentous, heady time that was just meant to be. But, for those guys in the moment, it was just total serendipity. And the quintessence of just going with the flow – Stinson Beach, California, vibes. They just kind of stumbled into this reality.
“Y’all wanna play?” “Sure, why not.”
Yeah, where it would just be really fun to have this bluegrass band that they didn’t take super seriously, which I think really comes across in the recordings, you know? Because there’s all this joy in that music that might not necessarily have been there if those guys were taking it super seriously or if they needed it to pay their bills. It was a very interesting circumstance.
And for them to call their hero Vassar Clements into the mix, on a sort of whim because Peter found his number on a card in his wallet. It was sort of like a fantasy camp for these guys. Like a bunch of hippies sitting around on the beach, smoking a joint, thinking: “Wouldn’t it be great if we had the world’s greatest fiddle player just show up?” “I bet you we could book a gig.” “Hey Jerry, you got these legions of people following you around, you could probably get us a gig, right?”
And that’s kind of how it happened. Those gigs were so magical, because they happened mostly for all of these Deadheads in Marin [County, California], for like 16 months or something.
So, if you really had your finger on the pulse of it and you were going to the Keystone [music club in Berkeley, California], to see [the Jerry Garcia Band] and you loved what the Dead were doing, you knew that they were going to take this time off, but you just saw Jerry the week before and he never took his guitar off. He just finished the [Jerry Garcia Band] set and walked backstage with his guitar on and was smoking a cigarette, and then you saw him 30 minutes later talking to somebody off the side of stage, still had his guitar on — you’re thinking, “Gee, this guy’s not going to stop playing music this year, so I better keep my eyes peeled for what’s next.” And they played all these little gigs mostly around the Bay Area — they kind of captured some lightning in a bottle.
With playing these Old & In the Way melodies not only throughout your life, but also extensively nowadays with Peter Rowan, what’s been your biggest takeaway on what makes those songs and the ethos/history behind them so special to you? What about in terms of musicality, technique, and approach?
It’s hard to articulate how special it is to be exploring these beloved songs that mean so much to so many folks, myself included, with Peter and a cast of some of my best friends and favorite musicians. It’s a catalog that’s got a lot of depth.
Old & In the Way would play anything from songs by bluegrass heroes like Bill Monroe, The Stanley Brothers, Reno & Smiley, and Jim & Jesse to Vassar [Clements], Jerry [Garcia], and my pop’s instrumentals, to the tunes that Peter was writing at the time, which are some of my absolute favorite songs ever written.
Songs like “Midnight Moonlight,” “High Lonesome Sound,” and “Panama Red.” Playing these tunes with Uncle Peter makes me feel connected to the times he spent with David and Jerry in Stinson Beach in the early ’70s.
I grew up in Mill Valley and loved going to Stinson Beach with my friends, so I have a pretty vivid image in my mind’s eye. They played tunes, hung out, relaxed, took in the sea breeze, smoked a bunch of great weed, and developed a highly individuated “West Coast” approach to playing and singing this bluegrass music that they all loved and respected so much.
And then, they called one of my bass heroes, John Kahn, and their fiddle hero, the inimitable Vassar Clements and gave the world about one glorious year – I think around 50 shows – of a rare and lovable breed of bluegrass.
So much of everyone’s personality comes through in the music, and you can hear their camaraderie in the recordings. I guess my biggest take away from getting to play this music with Peter is how important it is to bring your own approach to these timeless songs that we love, while still honoring what it is that makes us love them in the first place.
You’ve known Peter Rowan since you were born. But, what has this latest endeavor together meant to you, to play the Old & In the Way catalog to not only lifelong fans, but also a whole new generation of acoustic music fans and bluegrass freaks?
It means the world to me to get to spend some time out on the road sharing space and time in service of this music with Uncle Peter. Getting to meet all of these folks who care so much about this music and feeling their appreciation and gratitude for Pete has been truly special.
There are so many people from so many different ages and different walks of life for whom this music has been the soundtrack to many fond memories, and I’m honored to be one of them. It’s also been a joy to see fresh faces in the audience and some folks taking in this music with a new perspective.
In your honest opinion, what is the legacy of Old & In the Way when you place it through the prism of the history of bluegrass and the road to the here and now, especially this current juncture where the torchbearers are selling out arenas and creating this high-water mark for acoustic, traditional and bluegrass music?
For many folks who know and love the music of Jerry Garcia and the Grateful Dead, Old & In the Way has been their first exposure to bluegrass. So many people over the years have told me how listening to Old & In the Way led them to further explore bluegrass music and its roots and branches. And others have told me how it inspired them to become pickers and start bands of their own.
I think Old & In the Way has been pivotal in bringing a wider audience with a more adventurous musical palette into the bluegrass universe. The legacy of Old & In the Way is one of exploration and preservation, and they certainly paved the way for many of us to walk a similar path — honoring the music that we love, while exploring its boundaries and finding our own voices and approaches.
It’s wonderful to see my friend Billy Strings out there playing for so many folks on such a big scale simply being himself, playing his own songs with a great group of friends, and also honoring the material that made him the musician that he is — maybe that’s a part of the legacy of Old & In the Way.
Photo Credit: Elliot Siff Poster Credit: Taylor Rushing
(Editor’s Note: This December, we continue our annual series – see also: Dolly in December, Dawg in December, Dylan in December, and Del in December – by celebrating the iconic, trailblazing jam band, the Grateful Dead, all month long! We’ll be featuring the Grateful Dead as our Artist of the Month, celebrating their enormous impact on bluegrass and roots music over the next few weeks.
To kick off our coverage, BGS contributor Garret Woodward pens a heartfelt and personal AOTM reveal. Plus, don’t miss our exhaustive Essential Grateful Dead Playlist below.)
The single most profound moment within my 39 years of existence (thus far) is the first time I heard the Grateful Dead. Not far behind that life-altering experience were my initial encounter with LSD (in high school) and finally cracking open Jack Kerouac’s seminal 1957 novel, On the Road (in college).
Summer 1994. I was nine years old and living a simple, yet happily mischievous childhood in the small North Country community of Rouses Point, New York. One mile from the Canadian Border. One mile from the state line of Vermont. Solitude. Desolation. Rural America. Mornings spent building tree forts and wandering vast cornfields surrounding my childhood home. Afternoons jumping off the dock into nearby Lake Champlain.
Even at that time, I was a bona fide music freak. Whether it was Top 40 radio (Gin Blossoms, Melissa Etheridge, Collective Soul, Sheryl Crow) blasting out of the small boom box in my bedroom or whatever my parents shoved into the cassette deck in the family minivan (Willie Nelson, Beatles, Rolling Stones, Nat King Cole, George Jones), I was in search of “the sound.”
But, everything in my existence changed one evening that summer at a family cookout at our camp on the lake. Sitting at the picnic table — chowing down on some burgers, beans and potato salad — I noticed a hat my aunt’s boyfriend was wearing. The logo on the front was of a dancing bear, with the back featuring a skull with a lightning bolt. I inquired.
“It’s the Grateful Dead,” he replied with a Cheshire Cat grin emerging from a bushy beard. “Have you ever listened to the Dead, man?” No, I replied. After dinner, he walked me over to his early 1990s Volkswagen Jetta. He hopped in, rolled the windows down and turned on the stereo. Again, with a grin, as if he knew what was going to happen once he pressed play and cranked the volume.
It was the Skeletons from the Closet album. The opening tune, “The Golden Road (To Unlimited Devotion),” hit me like an undulating series of waves in some endless ocean of melodic tones and lyrical truths. It was just like when Dorothy Gale entered the world of color in The Wizard of Oz.
Nothing really was ever the same after that moment. It was not only the first music I’d discovered on my own – without the radio or my parents’ influence – the Dead, for some unexplained reason at the time, immediately became “my band.” Something clicked deeply inside of me. I awoke. And I had arrived.
Soon, a seismic shift occurred in my adolescent life. I wore Dead shirts to my Catholic elementary school to the dismay of the nuns. Tacked up Jerry Garcia posters on my bedroom wall. The swirling sensation of “Sugar Magnolia” or “St. Stephen” echoing from the boom-box. Incense burning on the windowsill overlooking the cornfields and unknown horizon of my intent. I even had a small shrine to Jerry on my bookshelf for several years after he died. I was all-in.
Musically, the Dead were a bunch of incredibly talented bluegrass, folk, and jazz freaks, who were inspired by the onslaught of the Beatles to plug in and go electric. The band itself was this massive sponge, one which soaked in any and all influences it crossed paths with — either onstage or merely wandering down the road of life. That authentic sense of curiosity and discovery is key to the Dead’s magic throughout its decades of improvisational splendor.
At its core, the Dead’s message resonated within my often-bullied and ignored self as a kid. If you like the Dead, you’ll always find a friend out there in the universe to connect with. The band’s symbols are beacons of love, compassion, and acceptance once you walk out the front door. In essence, I’d found my tribe, this wild-‘n’-wondrous ensemble of loving oddballs, eccentric weirdos, and all-around jovial folk. My kind of people, who remain so to this day.
The Dead is about personal freedom. To not only be yourself, but to also seek out the intrinsic beauty of people, places and things in this big ol’ world of ours. Have adventures. Pursue wisdom. Radiate love. Be kind. Damnit, be kind. All of these things offered from the music and its followers were placed in my emotional and spiritual toolbox as I began to wander the planet on my own following high school, college and impending adulthood.
And here I stand. Age 39. That nine-year-old discovering the Dead is still inside of me somewhere, still burning incense and blasting “St. Stephen.” That youngster’s excitement for all things music (especially live), endless curiosity for what lies just around the corner, and running with a reckless abandon towards the unknowns of tomorrow are as strong and vibrant as ever — especially through this ongoing catalyst that is my career in the written word.
Case in point, I recently headed to the Bluegrass Music Hall of Fame & Museum in Owensboro, Kentucky, for another celebratory weekend for its current exhibit: “Jerry Garcia: A Bluegrass Journey,” on assignment and on the ground covering the festivities. An incredibly curated collection of rare Garcia artifacts and wisdom, the showcase will run onsite until next spring.
Before the inception of the Grateful Dead, Garcia was completely immersed in the bluegrass and folk scenes in the San Francisco Bay area in the late 1950s and early 1960s. He was part of numerous acoustic acts and ensembles throughout the bountiful period — the culmination of that vast knowledge and in-depth experience being poured into the Dead’s formation in 1965.
To note, there’s a lot to be said about Garcia’s talents on the banjo being applied to what would become his signature tone on the electric guitar. And to that notion, add in the sheer lyrical aptitude of Robert Hunter, who not only penned many of the Dead’s iconic melodies, but was also on a parallel journey to Garcia’s early on and throughout the band’s 30-year trajectory.
And there I was in Owensboro, some 400 miles from my current home in Western North Carolina. Traveling for hours just to arrive on the mighty Ohio River – the state line of Kentucky and Indiana, this crossroads of the Southeast and Midwest. And for what? To push further and farther down the cosmic rabbit hole that is Jerry Garcia, the Grateful Dead, and those who follow.
The next 48 hours were a whirlwind of sound and scope. Seemingly endless tribute sets to Garcia and the Dead at the Woodward Theater inside the museum from the Kitchen Dwellers, Lindsay Lou, Fireside Collective, and members of the Infamous Stringdusters to late-night jam sessions in hotel rooms next door.
The Grateful Dead are arguably the only musical entity to exist that – regardless of who or what genre is being represented – once one of their tunes is placed into a performance, folks either show up in droves or are already present with ears perked up to what’s radiating out from the stage. It’s a fact that no matter what style of music you play, if it involves the Dead in some form or fashion, Deadheads are game to check it out. You could be a polka group and we’ll be right there, standing front row, the second you roll into “Althea” or “Shakedown Street.” The music provides, always and forever.
Before I left Owensboro and the Garcia celebration at the museum, I found myself on a bourbon distillery tour on Saturday afternoon. I walked into the enormous facility and checked in with the host. All by myself and waiting for the tour to start, the host tapped me on the shoulder.
“You like the Dead?” his face lit up, pointing to the Dead stealie tattoo on the back of my right leg. “Sure do, my brother,” I shot back with a smile of solidarity. We talked about our favorite live Dead recordings and where we’ve caught Dead & Company in concert recently, kindred spirits now eternally connected by this band of roving musical pirates. It’s a genuine interaction that happens often to Deadheads and something I don’t ever take for granted.
Even as we stand in this uncertain time in American history – where nothing is the same, everything is the same – the Grateful Dead remain this portal to escape, to purposely choose compassion, camaraderie, and community. It’s about cultivation of one’s self and of the sheer magnitude and gratitude of daily life, so long as you stroll this earth with the pure and honest intent to connect, to listen, and to understand.
Northern California folk-rock trio Rainbow Girls have always been committed to a grassroots approach to their band. Despite amassing a large community of fans, they remain an entirely independent and self-described mom-and-pop shop. Their new album, Welcome to Whatever (released in early December), spans a broad range of genre references and topics, but is rooted in the trio’s attitude of stubborn tenacity and joyful resilience – in the face of gentrification, capitalism, racism, and a generally challenging world.
In an industry which largely favors solo professional efforts over more complex group dynamics, Rainbow Girls have flourished over more than a decade of playing together and they remain a close-knit family. Most recently, the band has been nominated for Folk Alliance International’s Album of the Year award.
Curious to know more about how they have been able to make their collaboration work for so long and to such a beautiful end, BGS reached Vanessa Wilbourn, Erin Chapin, and Caitlin Gowdey via email to chat about the new album and how they feel about being a hold-out band in Northern California, when a lot of the region’s artistic class has been pushed out due to expense.
I loved reading about how you formed as a band and how long you’ve been playing together. Now that you’ve established yourself as a professional unit, how do you see your different roles in the band musically and personally? Who does what?
Vanessa Wilbourn: In terms of music, for the last few years we have tended to write individually. Once the idea has taken its initial form, its writer will bring the bare song to the collective. At times, the songwriter will have a clear idea for some or all of the vocal and/or instrumental parts. Other times, the song will be shared in its raw form and we as a collective will work to compose instrumental and vocal parts and arrange the song.
In terms of our business, we all play our parts. Our band is in every way a mom-and-pop shop. Mom, who is our best friend/live-in manager [Hannah Spero], keeps all of it together. She does the hard work of making sure we can keep the doors open. Dad, who is Erin, along with the support of mom, makes sure people know that we’re the best place in town for a good laugh and cry. He does Everything Internet plus a billion other things. Sis, Caitlin, does all of the design work; the albums, the merch, the promo material. Bro, Vanessa, runs our store. She makes sure that all of Caitlin’s designs make it on to shirts, hats and LPs so that our fans can have a piece of the pie.
In terms of interpersonal dynamics, we’re a family – so you know how that goes.
Friendships shared over formative years are special. How do you feel that you’ve seen one another grow and change since being students at college together? How has the band unit been there for you as people?
Our sweater game has immensely improved, because we live further north now.
We’re all better at putting on lipstick and I guess we’re also better at writing songs.
Erin used to be the blind one, but now it’s Caitlin.
I read that you have done extensive traveling and touring in Europe. What are some of the main differences you’ve found between touring in Europe versus the U.S.?
Caitlin Gowdey: We love where we come from, but boy howdy it’s wild how much better touring in Europe is. First of all, you can confidently eat any sandwich at any gas station and it’ll be a solidly good sandwich. Secondly, most major cities in Europe have bigger budgets for music and art, because it’s a larger, more embedded part of the culture.
Artists just generally get paid more, no matter where you’re playing. If you play a show at a venue they feed you and give you somewhere to stay as a part of the deal. If you’re a busker playing on the street (which we were for many years), there’s an understanding that you’re adding to the romantic atmosphere for tourists, and a respect that comes with that. More cities are designed for foot traffic, and people are just wandering around looking at giant clocks and waiting to be serenaded. We’ve met dozens of full-time buskers who sign up and clock in to the same couple spots every day and make a good amount of money. It’s kind of mind boggling.
So far, the only thing we’ve found about being a musician in Europe that’s worse is having to pay to use the toilets at a highway rest stop. Outrageous.
The album’s title, Welcome to Whatever, evokes a kind of slacker rock apathy, but there is a lot of thought and compassion behind the songwriting. What do you feel that the album’s title is getting at?
CG: [Laughs] Well, slacker rock is near and dear to my heart after years in the suburbs spent quoting Dazed and Confused and getting high in the Safeway parking lot, but the title is definitely not about apathy. The “whatever” is more an acknowledgement that the world is complicated and messy and we’re here for it. Nothing is guaranteed and nothing is constant, but we have each other and we’re ready to take on whatever might be coming next. Also the songs are definitely heartfelt, but they’re also all over the place in terms of vibe/genre.
I’m glad the rest of the girls liked the name, because the other album title idea I had written down in my notes – which I was gonna go to bat for – was “EAT PREY LOVE” with a bad drawing of a T-Rex.
On “City Slickers,” you sing about your nostalgic love for San Francisco. What is it like being a musician in the Bay Area these days? Are there things you still love about the place?
CG: It’s tough. It’s expensive. A lot of favorite venues have shut down, a lot of friends have moved away. It’s gentrification and technology and capitalism. Rich white people and oat milk and AirBnB are ruining Oakland. Tech companies and tech money could help homelessness, but they don’t because they don’t have to. I don’t even know what to say about it, it’s not a new story.
But cities are made of so many different types of people, shitty and amazing both, you can’t just claim it’s ruined. There’s a cool new punk club called Kilowatt. Hopefully it stays. People are still being weird and funny and queer and proud and making art, hanging on, and working their asses off to stay. There’s still an old guy named “The Professor” who rides around on his bike and hangs out when the shows get out to tell you about what he did yesterday. Scary Gary is working the door at Cornerstone and will buy you Doritos from across the street when the venue doesn’t provide food in the greenroom. At least we can still have abortions.
Artist:The Brothers Comatose Hometown: San Francisco, California Song: “The IPA Song” (featuring Ronnie McCoury) Release Date: October 5, 2023 Label: Swamp Jam Records
In Their Words: “There comes a time in every band’s existence when you have speak up and let the chips fall where they may. We realize that this statement is really going to split our crowd, but it’s time we say something. We can’t drink IPAs anymore! They’ve gotten too strong and too hoppy and we just can’t do it any longer. All we drink are light beers now and maybe it’s because we turned into more of a quantity, not quality type of band… or maybe we just turned into a bunch of beer wusses. Either way, no more IPAs!
“It all stems from us overdoing it back in the day when we were sponsored by a beer company and they delivered 3 cases (72 beers!) of IPAs to every tour stop. So there we were, neck deep in super strong, warm IPAs in our van and we were just trying to keep up. It’s kinda like how you can’t drink Bacardi anymore because of that one bad night you had in college. That’s us with strong and hoppy beers. The song started off as a joke because venues kept putting IPAs in our green room, but we would never drink them. It turns out the message really hits home with a lot of people.
“When we were planning to go into the studio to record ‘The IPA Song,’ our mandolin player Greg wasn’t available, because he was out on tour with another band at the time. It turned out our buddy, mandolin maestro Ronnie McCoury, was going to be in town playing a show, so we got him to come and play mandolin and sing high harmonies on the track. And being the legend he is, he truly delivered the goods on this one.
“We recommend cracking a nice, cold, non-IPA beer to enjoy while watching this video.” – The Brothers Comatose
Photo courtesy of the Brothers Comatose, Pavement PR
Artist:Kathy Kallick Band Hometown: San Francisco Bay Area, California Song: “Just Lonesome Ol’ Me & the Radio” Album:The Lonesome Chronicles Release Date: September 19, 2023 (single); October 17, 2023 (album) Label: Live Oak Records
In Their Words: “People of different ages will feel their engagement with radio in different ways. As part of a family gathered around the radio for a specific show, as a teenager listening to a transistor radio under their pillow, as a traveler on a long car trip with the radio tuned in to whatever signal it can find, or as a listener with that favorite show tuned in on a laptop from anywhere in the world, the radio means connection. In that bizarre time of lockdown, we all looked for ways to ‘be’ with other people, and a dear friend and I started having a listening date, tuning in to the same radio show from our separate places, and commenting to each other via email, text, or calling on the phone. It made us feel like we were having a little party!” – Kathy Kallick
Artist:Tom Heyman Hometown: San Francisco, California Song: “The Mission Is On Fire” Album:24th Street Blues Release Date: October 6, 2023 Label: Bohemian Neglect Recording Works
In Their Words: “I have lived on the Eastern end of 24th Street in San Francisco’s Mission District around the corner from SF General Hospital for more than 20 years now. I work at a bar near the corner of Mission and 22nd Street and a number of years ago (pre-pandemic), there were a series of devastating fires on Mission Street — two of them practically next door to my workplace, and another about three quarters of a mile south at 29th Street. Fires in a densely-populated city full of attached wooden houses are scary enough, but add in the scarcity of affordable housing, the simmering resentments around the huge influx of tech workers, and the white-hot real estate market and the overall effect was pretty unsettling.
“The phrase, ‘The Mission is on fire’ popped into my head and I knew there was a song there. I chased it down until I thought I had it. Around the time that I wrote it, I had another record coming out that it wasn’t really right for, but I knew that it was going to fit squarely into the group of songs that made up my new record, 24th Street Blues. It seems that San Francisco is in the news often these days and is struggling with all the things that an awful lot of cities are struggling with, but I deeply love my neighborhood – and most days I find it difficult to imagine living anywhere else.” – Tom Heyman
Artist:Mya Byrne Hometown: San Francisco, California Song: “I’m Gonna Stop” Album:Rhinestone Tomboy Release Date: April 28, 2023 Label: Kill Rock Stars Nashville
In Their Words: “Sometimes, I’m lucky enough to catch fire — I’ll be in the middle of a rehearsal or even a live solo performance, and get a feeling in my gut, like when you know it’s time to say ‘I love you’ to someone you haven’t said it to yet — and I’ll improvise a complete song into my recorder. And that’s what happened here, in a full-rock session. I had a ton on my mind that day, specifically how much I still felt connected to a former partner from years before, and how so many of my other relationships had, in some way, replayed that. I liked the idea of taking a break from being in love with people, acknowledging how a first kiss can drive an entire new relationship, and how, at least for that time frame, it might be a good idea to just go back to how I was as a child, before certain kinds of relationships were present in my life, before I so often was driven by the excitement of those new relationships, to get some perspective.” — Mya Byrne
Artist:Mya Byrne Hometown: San Francisco, California Song: “It Don’t Fade” Album:Rhinestone Tomboy (produced by Aaron Lee Tasjan) Release Date: April 28, 2023 Label: Kill Rock Stars
In Their Words: “‘It Don’t Fade’ came to me while walking down the street in my neighborhood in Berkeley, California, and I improvised the lyric and melody almost entirely as it is into my phone recorder. It was the height of the pandemic, and I was feeling wistful and thinking about the threads that tie us together, about my family, who I was so very far away from at that time, and my recovery, which was only a few months in – how even in our hardest moments there might be sunshine somewhere. Hope is a hard thing to find, and I’ve had some hard times, but the music I make helps me get through, and this song has gotten me through so much.” — Mya Byrne
“Using my skills as a producer to help create a path for Mya to succeed was something I felt called to do in my soul. If our goal as a society is to become softer, more loving and more accepting of each other, we need artists like Mya Byrne, who possesses these qualities, to help lead us on our mission.” — Aaron Lee Tasjan
Artist:Mya Byrne Hometown: San Francisco, California Song: “Autumn Sun” Release Date: September 8, 2022 Record Label: Kill Rock Stars Nashville
In Their Words: “‘Autumn Sun’ was written in Berkeley, California, right after the tragic Paradise wildfire smoke cleared. That morning, the harshness of the late autumn light that had been filtered by fire completely changed, buffered and diffused by really tremendous clouds and some kind of refraction. It was the first clean air day, and turned into a very pretty afternoon. My housemates and I all said the same sorts of things about how beautiful and different the light had become as the entire Bay seemed to take a collective deep breath outside for the first time in weeks, and I wrote the song in about an hour on my back porch, a snapshot of the day and a reflection of how seasons of change change us.
“It seemed really appropriate that was gonna be the song that launches this new label — Nashville is changing, and this song is literally about that moment when you know things are about to be different, but you don’t exactly know how — yet. You just know that it’s happening. I believe in Slim Moon, and all the work KRS has historically done to support the cutting edge of music. To have been asked to be the very first artist to release on Kill Rock Stars Nashville both is an honor and demonstrates their commitment to trans women and other marginalized artists being firmly centered in Nashville, in the Americana and country community. This is also exemplified by my longtime friend Aaron Lee Tasjan recording it — he wants to use his skill set and big heart to try to move the needle for me and for other trans people. I really believe Nashville is rising to meet this moment with us.” — Mya Byrne
Photo Credit: Lauren Tabak
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