Tag: sarah shook

Musically Sheltered, Sarah Shook Found Their Way With the Help of Johnny Cash

Posted on by Editor

Sarah Shook laughs at a mention that Nightroamer, the title of their third album with the Disarmers, could refer an activity they pursued as a late teen: after-dark escapes to engage in sexual rendezvous. But the same-named song is about more than breaking free; it’s about moving beyond, as in the lyric, “Don’t know where this road gonna take me/But I’d rather die than ever turn back.”

Several of the album’s 10 songs touch on searching for strength to reject toxic relationships and temptations, and even inspiring others to find that resolve. There’s some backsliding; in “No Mistakes,” they implore a wronged lover to “give me one last try.” But experiencing life at opposite ends of society’s spectrum — going from an ultra-conservative upbringing to identifying as bisexual and they/them nonbinary, and from addiction to sobriety — has toughened the North Carolina native, and Nightroamer’s sharp-edged mix of punk, pop, country and rock reflects that.

“One of the things that I really love about this album is that a lot of it was a surprise to me,” Shook says. “I don’t write albums; I write songs, and I make little stacks, like, this pile is definitely Disarmer songs, and this pile is probably not Disarmers. The last rehearsal we had before we flew to L.A. to make the record, we finished early, and morale was through the roof. Everybody was on cloud nine. The guys were like, ‘Do you have anything else that we could run through just for the hell of it? We’re done early, and it’d feel good to just blow off some steam.’ I was like, ‘I’ve got this song called, “I Got This” and a song called “Been Lovin’ You Too Long.” We ran through them, and they were like, ‘Yeah, those should be on the record.’”

Throughout Nightroamer, producer Pete Anderson adroitly sprinkles in touches such as an unexpected guitar chord, organ tickle or layered vocal; on “Been Lovin’ You Too Long,” he notably emphasizes Will Rigby’s around-the-beat drumming and tight-headed tom tones. On “I Got This,” Shook’s defiant tone also carries a sweetness reminiscent of a post-punk Kirsty MacColl, with hints of vulnerability that somehow reinforce its confident stance. But something else also stands out on the album: a spirit of resilience, even optimism — attitudes a person who’s endured repression, addiction and heartache might embrace once they dump the demons, break those cycles and finally realize, “I Got This.”

BGS: You grew up sheltered in a religious environment and broke out of that. When did you figure out that was not something you wanted to be part of, and how hard was it to get out?

Sarah Shook: It was a process that had many different steps. I’m still unlearning a lot of the stuff that I was raised to believe is true. I started having a lot of questions and doubts when I was a kid. I have two siblings, and I was the one that was always pushing buttons, asking questions that my parents were answering with, “Because I say so,” which, to me, was very unsatisfactory.

There was a lot of stuff in the Bible that wasn’t adding up. Just to clarify, we weren’t a family that (only) went to church every Sunday morning. We read our Bibles and had worship and prayer together every day. So I’m very familiar with the Bible as a text. In my early 20s, I hadn’t been going to church for years; I felt very disconnected from all of that, and pretty turned off by it. But this one day, I was just like, “I’m going to read the Bible one more time. And this time, I’m just going to read it, and everything that in the past I’ve justified with, ‘Well, I just have to trust that God knows best’ or ‘I just have to have faith,’ I’m not going to do that. I’m not gonna give God an out this time.”

I will never forget the moment: I was sitting on my porch in the sunshine, and it was a beautiful day; it was quiet. It was really scary to even be contemplating letting go of all of these beliefs that I was raised with (but) I made that decision on that porch that day. I was just like, “You know what, I don’t agree with this. And even if every word of this is true, I don’t see God as the good guy here; it’s not meshing with my view of humanity and the way that we should treat each other.”

Were you also questioning sexuality at that time?

I knew that I was attracted to girls when I was 8 or 9. Obviously, that wasn’t something I could share with my family. They weren’t openly hostile, but I knew that was not OK in their view. So, it was something that I kept to myself, and it was burdensome to feel like I couldn’t totally be myself, because it was around that time that I also was just, like, “I don’t think I’m a girl. And I don’t necessarily think I’m a boy, either.” But when you’re raised with the belief that gender is binary, if I’m not a girl, I must be a boy. You use the language that you have to try to make sense of your circumstance.

It wasn’t until my late teens that I started sneaking out of the house. I was 18 or 19. We weren’t allowed to date; we weren’t allowed to talk to boys in any romantic capacity. So I was going out and sleeping with people. My coming-out story was my dad asking me if I’d been sneaking out and sleeping with people. And I was like, “Yes.” He wasn’t impacted by that. Then he asked me if I’d been sleeping with women, and I was like, “Yeah,” and then he was just crying and devastated. Because that was, like, the worst thing in the world. At this point, my parents are in a totally different place, and I’m very grateful for that. If my folks, who are pretty conservative and religious, can grow and change and learn, then I’ve got hope for just about anybody.

Did you have to sneak to teach yourself piano and guitar?

I did not. We had a very old and not properly maintained upright piano in our hallway, just a catch-all for clutter. We were allowed to listen to classical and worship music; we weren’t allowed to listen to any contemporary Christian music, nothing with electric guitars or any sort of rock, bass or drums. So I started teaching myself piano when I was 8 or 9. I’m sure the first songs I wrote were religious in nature, because that’s all I knew at the time. When I was 16, I wanted to learn to play an instrument that was a little more portable, that I could take outside with me. So my folks got me one of those old-school posters that has a bunch of (guitar) chord shapes and I just sat in my room and learned chord shapes and strum patterns.

You weren’t allowed to listen to even contemporary Christian?

My parents were very protective. Even in the church setting, my siblings and I weren’t allowed to go to youth group. We weren’t allowed to go on trips that all of the kids our age were going on. They were very, very strict.

The more restrictive parents are, the more they’re pushing children to pursue the forbidden.

It’s almost a chicken-egg situation too, because it’s like, “I wouldn’t have known I wanted to do this if you hadn’t said something!” (Both laugh.)

You’re now part of a wave of artists trying to wake up and shake up attitudes in Americana and country and other realms, musically and socially. How did you get from that musical background to where you are now?

I have somewhat of an advantage because I didn’t grow up playing in bands and wanting to be in bands. This was not ever a career I would have chosen for myself. I’m very grateful to be where I am, and to have accomplished the things that we’ve accomplished as a band. But it does not come naturally to me. I’m introverted; I like my porch. But if I had been immersed in traditional country music from the word go, I probably would have gotten very jaded very fast. And really, there’s a lot of work that needs to be done. I cannot change anybody’s mind, and I’m not out to. But I am out to plant seeds. I am all about sharing whatever information I have with others who might benefit from it. I’m still learning a lot of shit, too. It’s important to be out front about that.

What turned that key that allowed you to hear and draw into this music? And how were you able to stay cloistered for so long? You were never able to turn on the radio and hear something else? I take it you were homeschooled.

All the way through. But yeah, it’s strange, and hard to pinpoint sometimes, because the progression is linear, but it’s evolution in fits and starts instead of one smooth line. The first stuff that I was listening to, I was at the mercy of coworkers. I was a cashier at a grocery store and my coworkers were giving me CDs to sneak into my house and listen to after my parents went to bed. So, my introduction to music was Elliott Smith, Belle and Sebastian, the Decemberists, Yo La Tengo and Gorillaz, and to me, that was just unbelievable. But I don’t necessarily seek out listening to music. I probably only listen to music once or twice a week because I need silence to get my tasks done. That’s just what makes my brain happiest. And I can’t listen to the radio at all because I cannot listen to advertisements.

 

How did that exploration of music turn into creating your own?

Because I was so sheltered musically, when I first started listening to actual, normal music, it was absolutely mind-blowing. There are no words for that experience, listening to Elliott Smith after having never heard anything like that in your life.

In my early 20s, I started dating this guy. We were sitting on his porch one day, and he had a little record collection and a turntable, and he put this album on. I was just like, “What is this? What is this called?” And he’s like, “This is Johnny Cash.” And I was like, “Yeah, but what kind of music is this?” And he’s like, “Well, this is country music.” And I was like, “I’ve been writing songs like this!” Not exactly, but the same kind of feel. We proceeded to listen to all of these old-school country artists.

I was just blown away because it felt like a homecoming. It was like, “I understand this music; this has already been coming out of me!” — having never heard it before. The second time that happened was with old-school punk. My introduction to punk was Sex Pistols and X-Ray Spex, and Germs and the Adverts. The first time I started hearing that stuff, I was just like, “I understand this. This is me.” Something good came out of all that isolation.

Photo Credit: Harvey Robinson

The Show on the Road – Sarah Shook

Posted on by Shelby Williamson

This week on The Show On The Road, we catch up with acclaimed roots-rocker Sarah Shook. For most of the last decade, Shook has been making cut-to-the-bone country music of her own outlaw variety — first with her early band The Devil and now with her seasoned group of sensitive twang-rock shitkickers, The Disarmers.


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Homeschooled in deeply religious seclusion in upstate New York and North Carolina, Shook largely only heard classical composers growing up. As a loner, creative teenager trying to process her hidden bisexuality, she described hearing Elliott Smith and Belle & Sebastian as revelatory — finally someone felt like her and found a way to share it with the world. But it was after encountering the raw honesty in the songs of Johnny Cash that she found a purpose and a place for her achy-voiced folk songs.

With a little encouragement from her longtime lead guitarist, who saw how powerful her presence (and her songs) could be on stage, an openly reticent Shook took the leap and started playing professionally in 2013. She gained national attention with her stellar back-to-back albums Sidelong and Years, which caught the attention of famed alt-/outlaw country label Bloodshot Records (they signed her) and sent her on a relentless round of touring.

With confessional, lived-in songs like “Fuck Up” and “New Ways To Fail” Shook is a master of getting to the point, processing her tough transition to sobriety with grace, humor and wit. Much like her hero Johnny Cash, she suffers no fools when it comes to love and its tricky late-night detours. With her signature half-smile/half-grimace candor Shook sings about another love affair gone wrong: “I need this shit like I need another hole in my head.”

Stick around to the end of the episode to hear a live-from-home acoustic rendition of her deliciously twangy kiss-off, “Gold As Gold.”

Photo credit: Derek Ketchum

Bloodshot Records at 25: An Insurgent Interview with Co-Founder Rob Miller

Posted on by Editor

Bloodshot Records’ 25th anniversary party is taking place in Chicago this Saturday, and they’re gonna party like it’s… 1994.

Long before the term Americana was coined, this fledgling Chicago label was issuing records by Robbie Fulks, Old 97s, and other road-worn musicians who built their careers on a mix of country and punk that the label initially termed “insurgent country.” That description didn’t last but the label forged on, with compelling artists and songwriters like Jason Hawk Harris, Sarah Shook & the Disarmers, and Luke Winslow-King now on the roster.

Bloodshot Records co-founder Rob Miller fielded some BGS questions by email. Check out the newest release, Too Late to Pray: Defiant Chicago Roots, at the end of the interview.

BGS: Launching a record label is a pretty big risk, then and now. Was there a specific moment that convinced you, “OK, the time is right to do this”?

RM: Au contraire! Risk never, ever crossed my mind. When you don’t have a business plan, an expectation of success — let alone longevity — or any idea what you are getting yourself into, ignorance and naiveté are powerfully liberating. The whole idea was, at the very least, a release from the drudgery of drywalling shitty condos in Wrigleyville and Old Town.

The three original partners ponied up a couple of grand from our day jobs, put together our first release, For a Life of Sin, and the day the CDs came back from the manufacturer, POOF!, we were a “label.”

I can’t imagine doing something as ridiculous as that now.

What do you remember about those first few conversations with your friends and your peers when you shared your plans to launch Bloodshot?

Practically nothing. It was a very blurry time. It was at a time in all our lives when all was action and creating and the moment without much thought to consequences. We were just so excited at the prospect of shining a light on this weird little scene in Chicago that I doubt anyone could have talked me out of doing it. The real world had not yet muscled itself to the table and I’ve managed, in many ways, to keep it at bay all these years. Oh, and then there was the tequila. As I said, very blurry.

Why did the phrase “insurgent country” fit the Bloodshot Records vibe, do you think?

It’s something Eric Babcock (one of the original founders) and I came up with one day drinking beer in my backyard — never let two English majors get drunk when there’s a thesaurus within reach, by the way.

We were looking for a catchy way to describe what we were doing, something that spoke to the outsider aspect and added an edge to the frequently off-putting “C” word. At the time, there wasn’t much critical language or reference points surrounding the melding of roots and punk. So, before someone else hung a dreadful tag on us like cowpunk or y’alternative, we thought it would be wise to TELL them what to call us.

Print media was so prevalent as this label was getting off the ground. What role did music journalists play in making Bloodshot a success?

Wait, we’re a success? Who knew? Where’s my pony, dammit!

Having spent my formative years reading fanzines and indie publications, persuading glossy mags or acclaimed daily newspapers to pay any sort of attention to us never crossed my mind. We did then, as we do now, focus on the grassroots. We work from the bottom up, rather than wait around for some “tastemaker” to tell the world it’s OK to like us or our artists. It was in those locally-based outlets where people could write about us with passion and without concern for circulation or broad appeal.

However, there are times when our tastes and popular culture intersected (Neko Case, Justin Townes Earle, Ryan Adams, Old 97s, Lydia Loveless, among others) and the wider world and folks higher up the media food chain paid attention to us. Usually that would take the form of a “trend” piece along the lines of “the new sound of country” or “Whiskey-soaked barn-burning punks” or some such shit. They’d be reactive and reductive, but tried to sound bold and cutting-edge by calling out some hot, fresh underground movement.

And that’s all great, but it doesn’t influence what we like or how we go about what we do.

Don’t get me wrong, or think me the King of Cynics (I am merely a prince), there were some insightful and humbling pieces in places like Rolling Stone, GQ, Village Voice, New York Times and the like. In NYC 1996, we had an afternoon barbeque on the Lower East Side with the Old 97s, Waco Brothers, and others. It was during CMJ and since they wouldn’t let our bands into the festival, we put on our own party (a precursor to our longstanding shindig at the Yard Dog Gallery during SXSW). I went outside to check on the line that snaked down the block and saw a couple writers from Rolling Stone and the legendary Greil Marcus trying to get in. Yikes. Things like that helped lend an air of legitimacy to our strange little crusade.

Who were some of the earliest champions for the label?

Fans, largely. Weirdos like ourselves who quickly responded to what we were trying to do. People who were fed up with the co-opting of the underground, of Lollapalooza, of Martha Stewart “grunge-themed” parties; people who were looking to classic country for the freshness, excitement, and freedom that they used to find in punk; people who were discovering that Johnny Cash, Loretta Lynn, and Hank Williams were 1000 times more interesting and relevant than the Stone Temple Pilots or the Red Hot Chili Peppers would ever be; people who were starting up, or involved in already, their own scenes in their cities who saw us as willing collaborators.

Fortunately, many of these collaborators also worked in the biz, as writers, DJs, promoters, record store owners, distributors, and club owners. We were able, in pretty short order, to stitch together an ecosystem of people who genuinely dug what we were trying to do and could help spread the word to the benefit of all. It was very much a community spread out across the country.

How has the Chicago music scene factored into the Bloodshot Records story?

There isn’t so much a Chicago music “scene,” as there is a Chicago “hustle.”

When I moved to Chicago, I was floored by the vast array of music available to me on any given night. So many clubs, so many bands, so many neighborhoods, so many options. Given our position in the middle of the country, most touring bands stopped here. Rent was cheap. Labels arose in a non-competitive environment which fostered a vibrant, organic and sustained creative burst. Since Chicago is a working town, rather than a company town like NYC, LA, or Nashville, there was an incredible amount of freedom to create and perform without fear of upsetting the “industry” or making a jackass of yourself and failing during your “shot” in front of A&R goons from a major label.

Do what you do. Try new things. We didn’t break rules so much as we never knew what the rules were in first place. Club owners took chances on our bands early on and became fans and advocates, the media cared and wrote about what was happening at the street level, and there were plenty of record stores and left of the dial radio lending encouragement. Coming from a place that lacked such a supportive infrastructure, I never, ever take it for granted.

I firmly believe that Bloodshot would not have thrived anywhere else.

At the time the label launched, vinyl pressings of new releases were very rare. How did the label respond when you all realized that vinyl was making a comeback?

Very true. Early on, other than a series of 7” singles, we didn’t do any vinyl. Occasionally, a European company would license a title and press up 500 LPs or so, but otherwise, it was a dead format. That pained the record nerd buried deep in my DNA.

So, we were quite happy to help with the resurgence of LPs. At first, we’d tentatively press up 500 or 1000 of only the releases we expected to do quite well; LPs are expensive, time-consuming and temperamental to manufacture, and unsold LPs take up a lot of space in our tiny warehouse. AND no one was sure if this was a quick blip or a passing fancy, so all the extant pressing plants were log-jammed for months at a time. But now, with new pressing plants finally opening up, virtually every release has a vinyl component to it and we’ve re-released music never before available in that format as well.

I think people who, by and large, grew up with downloads and streaming respond to vinyl because of its tactile and totemic connection to the music and the artist. As the saying goes, you can’t put your arms around an MP3. It makes the LP a very durable and loveable format.

What do you remember about Bloodshot’s first website?

Funny, I was just talking to an IT person about this the other day. When we moved into our current office 20 years ago, we had one modem for the entire office. If someone needed to get online, they would run through the office telling people to get off the phones so they could log on. We wrote letters and used faxes. We even called people on the corded telephones and talked to them — how very quaint.

If we wanted to edit our site, we’d have to compile a list of changes, and fax them over to our “programmer.” We did that usually every two weeks or so. From where we sit now, it feels so distantly and hilariously primitive, like I was the chimp smashing bones with a femur when the obelisk appears in 2001: A Space Odyssey.

Every once in a while, someone will say something like “I googled that DSP” or “the Wi-Fi crashed and I can’t download the WAV files” and think, good Lord, what would such utterances have sounded like back then? They would have locked you up or tossed you off the bus for being a loony.

In this era, having a record label isn’t essential to release music. However, from your perspective, what are some of the benefits of having label support?

Several years back, the conversation did turn rather aggressively towards “why even bother having a label?” True, the monolithic aspect of THE LABEL has been wholly and, in many cases, rightfully demolished by the internet.

However, artists are artists. They should create and perform. They should not be burdened with the time-sucking (yet necessary) banalities of promotion and business.

That’s where a “team” like us comes in — perhaps that’s a more relevant term than “label.” We can take all those nagging organizational bits off their plate and build the brand. We keep the trains running on time (I refer, of course, to European and Japanese trains, not Amtrak). And, let’s face it, many possessing the — how shall we say? — artistic temperament do not also possess the logistical grace to tackle all the infuriating minutiae that make the whole machine run. No one asks me to write a catchy melody or craft meaningful lyrics delving into the human condition. No one should ask the artist to make sure the digital service providers are given the proper metadata or set up an in-store performance in Fort Collins Colorado.

What excites you the most about the next 25 years?

Ivanka 2040?

The death of the Death of Irony?

Jet packs?

(Hopefully) outliving Henry Kissinger.

Florida and Mar-A-Lago sinking into the sea once and for all?

Making sure the soundboard at the old folks home is powerful enough for Jon Langford’s shouting to be heard over the Matlock re-runs?

Brooklyn Country Cantina 2019 in Photographs

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

The crowds turned out all day and all night for last Saturday’s Brooklyn Country Cantina at SXSW in Austin, Texas. Amazing music, delicious food, relaxing hangs, beautiful belts, and adorable puppies all came together to make the day a smashing success. Relive BGS’ third year co-presenting the Country Cantina with these FOMO-preventing photographs.

Lede photo by Jaki Levi

Kacey Musgraves is Country’s Queer Icon, but These Roots Artists are Actually Queer

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Kacey Musgraves’ dominance during Sunday’s 61st Annual Grammy Awards has certainly solidified her place as country music’s newest queer icon. She offered simply stunning, near-perfect performances during the primetime broadcast and took home four trophies: Best Country Solo Performance, Best Country Song, Best Country Album, and one of the most prestigious awards of the night, Album of the Year. So-called “Gay Twitter” devolved into a tizzy as the show unfolded through the afternoon and evening with Musgraves decidedly at the top.

Said Album of the Year, Golden Hour, saw a critical mass of LGBTQ+ fans embracing Musgraves’ music, but her relationship to the broader gay community has been percolating since her debut album, especially given its overt “Follow Your Arrow” message. All combined, her eye for gratuitous-yet-effortless glamour, her acid-steeped, anime-meets-California-meets-trailer park aesthetics, and her singular, pop-influenced countrypolitan sounds are gay country manna from heaven. And it’s not just in the music. This year, she made an appearance as a guest judge on VH1’s RuPaul’s Drag Race All Stars and she routinely advocates for LGBTQ+ fans and their causes on her social media feeds.

To be sure, Musgraves fits the diva-idolized-by-gays criteria impeccably, but there’s a certain passive erasure that can occur when fans consciously or subconsciously become myopic in their praise of and infatuation with straight, cisgendered, female artists. It’s true that Musgraves has played an important role in expanding country music’s borders — musically, socially, and otherwise — but at the same time a burgeoning community of LGBTQ+ writers, artists, musicians, and creators are carving out their own space within country, Americana, folk, and even bluegrass and old-time.

This writer would never go so far as to suggest that one ought not squeal with delight at Musgraves’ fierce-as-fuck costumes, her tear-jerking solo performance of “Rainbow,” or her impossibly long and flowy Cher-callback, bump-it wig. Rather, if you love Kacey Musgraves and Golden Hour — because queer identities can be seen and reflected within her work, because she opens the door to the idea that country isn’t a forbidding place for these identities, and/or because she’s unabashed and unapologetic in her pursuit of these goals — you’re going to love these eleven badass, talented, inspirational, openly queer roots musicians, too.

Time to get stanning:

Brandi Carlile

After last night’s show this name should no longer need mentioning or introduction, as Carlile and her twin collaborators, Tim and Phil Hanseroth, absolutely brought down the Staples Center with one of the most moving performances of the night, the soaring, galvanizing, overtly queer, and now Grammy-winning masterpiece, “The Joke.” Carlile is openly gay, married, a mother of two daughters, and a tireless voice for representation and progress in Americana and its offshoot genres. If “The Joke” resonates with you (i.e. if it makes you sob uncontrollably, as it does this writer), check out “That Wasn’t Me,” “Hurricane,” and, of course, “The Story.”

Mary Gauthier

Gauthier’s latest, Rifles & Rosary Beads, was nominated for Best Folk Album this year and though it didn’t take home the prize, the album has received universal acclaim for its message of hope, empathy, and visibility for members of our armed services and the struggles they face during and after their service. Gauthier collaborated with veterans of the military in writing all of the record’s heart wrenching, honest, raw songs — which might seem counterintuitive given gays’ historically tenuous relationship with the military writ large. But Gauthier’s own life story, and the trials she’s faced, make her the perfect writer to prioritize empathy above all else in these songs.

Don’t sleep on the rest of her discography, though. The simple profundity of her writing is consistently awe-inspiring. Check out “Mercy Now” after you’ve given Rifles & Rosary Beads a listen.

Karen & the Sorrows

Jewish New York City native Karen Pittelman may seem like an unlikely frontwoman of a country band, especially when you factor in her past punk and queercore experiences, but it turns out she grew up bathed in the country compilation albums her father produced and sold for a living. Her voice recalls country mavens of bygone eras — it’s delicate yet powerful, with a pin-up girl quality that’s as subversive as it is natural. Also check out “Take Me for a Ride,” a Pittelman original that plays like a trad-country, queer version of Sam Hunt’s smash hit, “Body Like a Back Road,” but without the cheese.

Little Bandit

All of the hollerin’, barn-burning, hell-raising country soul of your favorite outlaw country rockers, but with lacy gay edges, Little Bandit (AKA Alex Caress, et. al.) is as honky-tonk as it gets. It’s a beautiful balancing act, presenting as an impossibly big-voiced, piano-smashing, charismatic frontman while singing male pronouns without hesitation. He leans into a beautifully paradoxical queerness that equally embraces diamonds, Waffle House allusions, platform shoes, and plain ol drinkin’. If you like it — and you will — check out “Diamonds,” too.

Sarah Shook & the Disarmers

Outspoken outlaws in a crop of alt-country artists who align with that eponymous country movement of the 70s, Sarah Shook & the Disarmers are a road-dogging band that would seemingly fit that mold, excepting Shook’s deliberate efforts to challenge the inherent heteronormativity of country music at every turn. For Shook it’s not necessarily about having a political message, as she put it in a 2018 interview with BGS, “I feel like doing what I’m doing — touring relentlessly, putting out records, and being unapologetically myself — is a very powerful and political maneuver as well… I’ve never been concerned about that because I feel it’s important to be honest and forthright as a human being, and as an artist and certainly lyrically as well.”

Indigo Girls

Both Amy Ray and Emily Saliers — the two halves that make up the absolutely iconic Indigo Girls — have released solo albums in the past year, both of which draw heavily on folk, Americana, and country influences. This should be no surprise to even the most casual IG fans. Banjos, mandolins, ukuleles, and so many other hallmarks of roots music have been integral to the Indigo Girls’ sound all along. But the songwriting, devastating and personal and oh so very real, is the real takeaway from both projects.

kd lang

This list might as well not exist if it excluded kd lang. Before her crossover to more mainstream genre designations, kd pretty much originated the role of badass queer making unimpeachably trad country music that refused to shy away from its queer touchpoints. Just take a look at this video! “Honky Tonk Angels,” sung with Loretta Lynn, Brenda Lee, Kitty Wells, and finally, kd in all of her butch, gender-bending, binary-eschewing glory — complete with a Minnie Pearl cameo! Country has always been (more than) a little queer, y’all.

Lavender Country

A man well, well ahead of his time, Patrick Haggerty (AKA Lavender Country), released his debut, self-titled album in 1973. It was a groundbreaking work, but the world, let alone the country music community and its commercial machine, were not ready for it. A Seattle DJ was fired for playing “Cryin’ These Cocksucking Tears” on the airwaves, only one thousand copies of the album were printed, and the band was relegated to performing exclusively at LGBTQ+ events and programs. But, despite being largely shut out of the industry, Haggerty and Lavender Country never ceased. In 2018, at the age of 74, Haggerty took part in AmericanaFest’s very first queer-focused showcase.

Amythyst Kiah

Amythyst Kiah’s booming, captivating voice, and her haunting, Southern gothic approach to Americana, bluegrass, and old-time set her apart from almost anyone else on the scene at this moment. Her reimagination of Dolly Parton’s magnum opus, “Jolene,” is a perfect example of how she carefully turns tradition on its ear. Based in East Tennessee herself, she draws on the rich musical heritage of the region, adding her own spin, creating space to allow herself to soar. And there’s plenty more soaring in her future, as she has opened shows for artists such as Rhiannon Giddens and Indigo Girls across the country and in Europe, and her collaboration album with Giddens, Allison Russell (Birds of Chicago), and Leyla McCalla, Songs of Our Native Daughters, is set to drop February 22.

Alynda Segarra

Singer/songwriter, activist, and Hurray for the Riff Raff frontwoman Alynda Segarra entrances with The Navigator, a concept project that focuses on the life and times of a fictitious Puerto Rican youth living in New York City. Themes of immigration, identity politics, displacement, disenfranchisement, and capitalistic overreach are threaded throughout the album, which offers its songs as tableaus of this girl’s — Navita’s — reality. It’s a stunning reminder that the intricacies and nuances that define us, and by doing so, separate us, are not so difficult for us to overcome with empathy and understanding. “Pa’lante!” (which translates to “forward!”) is the album’s battle cry, a song that turns utter despondency, grief, and a sore lack of humanity into a glimmer of hope.

Trixie Mattel

While almost all other drag queens who delve into the music scene release dance tracks, rap albums, or similar club-ready jams, Trixie Mattel (AKA Brian Firkus) draws upon her rural Wisconsin roots on two folk-adjacent, country-ish albums, Two Birds and One Stone. (Get it?) This isn’t just an opportunist attempt to punch up Trixie’s Dolly Parton-esque, country barbie aesthetic, she’s really got the chops. Not only is she a talented humorous-while-poignant songwriter, her technical skills on guitar and autoharp (yes, autoharp) are precisely honed to showcase her original music. This is no gimmick — though the Doves in Flight Gibson guitar and the custom, pink d’Aigle autoharp are jaw-droppingly perfect additions to Trixie’s lookbook.

 

BGS Celebrates Pride 2018

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

It’s June! The most rainbowy time of the year! BGS is proud to celebrate Pride this month while the world marks the anniversary of the riots that began the modern LGBTQ+ rights movement, nearly 50 years ago at The Stonewall Inn in New York City, with parades, parties, protests, and loads of glitter.

Queer voices are an integral part of the roots music communities we all love — and they always have been. Let’s revisit some of our favorite pieces and stories that focus on LGBTQ+ identities, music, and perspectives as we raise up this incredibly strong, vibrant, open, and loving community.

 

Last year, we celebrated 30 years of queer goddesses The Indigo Girls by naming them our Artists of the Month. Some of our favorite songwriters — like Angaleena Presley and Becky Warren — paid them tribute as well. The Indigo Girls blazed a trail for openly queer folks to make music loud and proud. Their wide-reaching influence cannot be overstated.

 

Brandi Carlile gave the remaining 10 months of 2018 an impossibly high standard to live up to when she released her most recent record, By the Way, I Forgive You, in February. One song off of the new project, “The Joke,” is poised to become a queer anthem for our generation — and President Obama himself listed it as one of his favorite songs of 2017. It’s one of our favorites ad infinitum.

 

Southwest Virginia natives and old-time, bluegrass, and folk musicians Sam Gleaves & Tyler Hughes are helping to dispel the all too common assumption that rural communities are devoid of LGBTQ+ folks. “When We Love,” a song off of their self-titled, debut duo release made our Class of 2017 list of favorite songs from the year.

 

We were honored and proud to support the first ever Bluegrass Pride last year, partnering with the California Bluegrass Association on a float in the San Francisco Pride Parade. The float ended up winning Best Overall Contingent and brought live bluegrass music to literally hundreds of thousands of potential fans. The icing on the cake is this bluegrass version of Whitney Houston’s “Dance with Somebody” by Front Country and some fabulous friends.

 

Singer/songwriter Mary Gauthier demonstrates the incredible power of empathy on her record Rifles & Rosary Beads, a collection of songs written with veterans of the armed services. It’s an important message for this day and age — one that Gauthier delivers with, once again, empathy.

 

Americana singer/songwriter Becca Mancari may be based in Nashville, but her debut album, Good Woman, released last fall, draws inspiration from well beyond Music City. The critically-acclaimed album can thank its lyric-driven, personality-rich songs for its success — a reminder that living one’s truth and letting that truth shine is always the best plan of action.

 

Country music is for queers too, damnit! Karen Pittelman of Karen & the Sorrows believes that if we edit our own personalities, perspectives, and identities out of our art, it’s a disservice to everyone. Especially given the fact that queer people have have been making all kinds of art and all kinds of music all along.

 

She took home the crown from RuPaul’s Drag Race: All Stars Season 3, but last year, before her return to the iconic reality TV show, drag superstar Trixie Mattel (AKA Brian Firkus) released an album of folk-tinged country songs. This year, she released its follow up. We spoke to Trixie after her first album dropped about how a drag queen can fit into roots music communities.

 

Singer/songwriter and “poster child for intersectionality” Crys Matthews carries on the legacy of Martin Luther King Jr. through her music, writing relevant, hard-hitting, convicting songs that champion social justice and activism.

 

Country artist Sarah Shook is an activist just by being herself, unapologetically. It’s a classic outlaw perspective and a perfect fit for a queer voice in the country realm.

 

Folk legends, GRAMMY winners, producers, and life partners Cathy Fink & Marcy Marxer released their forty-fifth recording, Get Up and Do Right, early last year. It’s no surprise that it has a social justice bent, given that the pair has spent their entire lives and careers on the front lines of the battle for LGBTQ+ rights and women’s rights.

 

Artist and Americana/soul singer Chastity Brown contemplated heartbreak and healing on her latest album, Silhouette of Sirens, released a little over a year ago. To Brown, the personal is political, “Just by me being a bi-racial, half-black, half-white woman living in America right now is political. Just being a person of color, a queer woman of color, for that matter, is freaking political.”

 

Of course, we’ve been proud to highlight diverse and underrepresented identities at the International Bluegrass Music Association’s business conference for the past two years – and continuing this year! The inclusion and diversity movement swept IBMA’s events in Raleigh last year, and we took a look at how and why.

 

And last but certainly least, how could we celebrate Pride without going back to our conversation with the most busted, washed-up, wannabe country star in the universe, Ms. Marlene Twitty-Fargo? As she would holler from stage, “Happy Pride, biscuits! Though I don’t know why all you queers love Charley Pride so much.”

Lede photo by torbakhopper on Foter.com / CC BY-ND

Live What You’re Singing: A Conversation with Sarah Shook

Posted on by Editor

Within the bounds of country music, pronoun play doesn’t come easy, but Sarah Shook believes listeners are more than capable of finding ways to see themselves in her songs. With her band, the Disarmers, she deals with gender in her songwriting as a means to challenge the heteronormative forms of representation within country music.

On “The Bottle Never Lets Me Down,” from the band’s new album, Years, she sings about becoming the man she used to be, while on “Parting Words,” she addresses a woman, her former lover, about the way things ended. Not only does she weave together traditional country, honky-tonk, blues, punk, and more, but she conscientiously flips country music’s perspective around in order to be more inclusive.

There’s a definite sense of who belongs and who doesn’t in country music, but that’s slowly shifting.

It’s a really very cool and exciting time for women making country music, especially the sort of throwback traditional country. There’s a lot of buzz centered around this new wave of women outlaw country artists. I think that’s a really good thing, and industry-wide it’s a lot more prevalent than you realize. One of the things that was frustrating for me last year when we put Sidelong out, I probably did 50-some odd phone interviews, and two of them—two of them!—were with women. I had a whole conversation with my manager, like it’s hard enough being a woman playing music, but it’s a tough field to be a woman in journalism. This year with this release, I feel like there’s been more of a balance as far as speaking with male and female journalists, and that’s been encouraging too.

You’ve been mentioned along with country outsiders like Sturgill Simpson and Margo Price. How do you see your relationship within the genre?

I think that we’ve been branded outlaw, and I feel like people interpret that in different ways. Of course outlaw country is the super old school Waylon Jennings beat, but I think the term is evolving pretty rapidly into something that is more inclusive to people doing it their own way. That’s one of the things that was really cool about country music in its heyday, when it was first starting out and all those classic artists were on the radio. As soon as the song started—a few bars in—you could tell whose band it was because all those bands had such a distinct sound. That is really hard to find today, everything sounds the same. It’s very clear that people are just looking for patterns that have achieved success and are popular. And then you have folks out there like Margo Price and Kelsey Waldon and Kacey Musgraves, and they’re kind of doing their own thing. Their bands have respective sounds that are unique and identifiable. That is really cool and very exciting.

You’ve been forthright about your sexual identity. How do you navigate your personal story within the larger scope of representation?

To a degree, I feel like there are certain points in time where it’s paramount to be very outspoken about that stuff. Most of the time, I feel like doing what I’m doing—touring relentlessly, putting out records, and being unapologetically myself—is a very powerful and political maneuver as well. Sometimes it’s more effective in a palpable way to live what you’re saying and be the person that you’re talking about. I think it’s a cool and different way for people to realize, especially within country music, which has a certain, specific demographic of people, that, yes, you can be a pansexual atheist vegan making country music, and does that affect the music? Sometimes lyrically, yes, but the overarching theme is just that I don’t necessarily have to have everything in common with my fans. We can have differences. It’s really cool to have interactions with people who are like, “I never felt comfortable with the idea of homosexuality or bisexuality, and I meet you and we’re talking and hanging out and having a good time. You’re just a regular person.” I’m like, “Exactly, we’re regular people, believe it or not.” [Laughs]

When you put it like that, it’s so depressing, but it rings true. Every time I meet someone who’s uncomfortable about anything outside heterosexuality it’s usually because they haven’t spoken to anyone who’s different from them.

Exactly. And that is such a big thing. We can play New York City and that’s a totally different experience than playing a small town in Alabama. I think consistently being the person who is always willing to talk to fans after a show and be real and be myself and form unlikely friendships, I think that’s a really cool way to create change.


I always thought action over verbiage is the way to go about it. But then looking back, we’ve seen from the Dixie Chicks how speaking your mind can be dangerous. Do the repercussions ever concern you?

You know, I’ve never been concerned about that because I feel it’s important to be honest and forthright as a human being, and as an artist and certainly lyrically as well. The other thing to me that’s really important, from the word go I’ve been very strategic about how I wanted to grow this band and how I wanted to see success. It’s never been my prerogative to go after the country music fan base—and certainly that’s the majority of our fan base. My thing was, “Yes, this is country music, but this is music for anyone who likes it.” It’s inclusive, and anyone that these songs resonate with, it’s for you. Taking that stance and being strategic about it has certainly helped. It’s really encouraging to be a country band playing outlaw country and have a very diverse audience, and I think that’s a thing a lot of traditional artists struggle with. They get pigeonholed. Being outspoken in an honest fashion but not a combative fashion, I feel that’s really helped push our music to demographics that it wouldn’t necessarily otherwise reach.

All this talk of the new outlaw makes me excited for a tour one day, or even a festival.

We need our own cruise. [Laughs] That would be amazing.

An outlaw lady cruise.

Exactly. Oh my god, that’d be a lotta fun.

Critics have referenced the underlying sense of menace in your voice, but your vocals on “New Ways to Fail” have such a biting, sarcastic note. Where does that darker sense of humor come from?

I’m very nihilistic. [Laughs] I’m one of those people that thinks life is way too short to take yourself too seriously. Within this world, there’s this huge danger of being, “I’m so and so, do you know who I am?” I’m just a person playing music and having a good time. Music should be fun, and, yes, it’s business too, but if it’s all business you’re going to get burnt out. You gotta have fun with it.

There’s also a tone of defiance in both your voice and music, which requires constantly stoking that fire inside you in order to stay angry enough to fight. How do you find yourself doing that?

I definitely have a lot of personal experiences that certainly stoke the fire. I have a lot of trans and non-binary friends here at home in Chapel Hill. Chapel Hill is a progressive little community, but even within the context of a progressive community, I’ve been out at bars before and had people give them shit about how they look. That’s a real thing. It’s so wild to me that the trans community is what’s being targeted because they’re already vulnerable to begin with and they’re probably the most non-combative people. They’re not putting up fights, they’re just trying to exist and have a life and be comfortable, like everyone else wants to do. You witness injustice like that firsthand, and you try and de-escalate situations like that. It’s a very real thing and there’s still a lot of work to be done in terms of showing people that we’re not the enemy, and yeah we’re kind of freaks but we’re not out to destroy morality.

Everyone can exist together.

Exactly, yup.

I noticed you play with gender a lot in your lyricism, either by not using specific pronouns or by flipping them in other interesting ways. Can you talk a bit about that process?

I’ve always liked pushing the boundaries with that. I think blurring gender lines is really important because it totally leaves the story open to listener interpretation. People can be like, “Well, I’m not really sure if this song is written from a man’s point of view about a woman, or a woman whose woman lover left her.” Leaving that open to interpretation and letting people wonder and figure it out for themselves and how it applies to them personally, I think that’s a cool way to let people arrive that their own conclusions, and also realize that they feel perfectly OK not really knowing.

Photo credits: John Gessner

3X3: Sarah Shook on Tofu Tacos, Just Mayo, and No Regrets

Posted on by Amy Reitnouer

Artist: Sarah Shook & the Disarmers
Hometown: Chapel Hill, NC
Latest Album: Sidelong
Personal Nicknames: Shook

What song do you wish you had written?

“Bringin’ the Blues to My Door” by Melvin Endsley

Who would be in your dream songwriter round?

Kelsey Waldon, Charley Pride, Margo Price, John Howie Jr., and Jess Price from Campdogzz.

If the After-Life exists, what song will be playing when you arrive?

“Farewell Transmission” by Songs:Ohia

 

Disarmers play Baton Rouge, LA, tonite at @DysonHouseLR yea yea. #country #outlaw #countrymusic #batonrouge #livemusic

A post shared by Sarah Shook & the Disarmers (@sarahshooksdisarmers) on

How often do you do laundry?

My partner does the laundry — good man, that one.

What was the last movie that you really loved?

Hell or High Water

If you could re-live one year of your life, which would it be and why?

No regrets. Always moving forward.

 

Jonah took this one so he said he gets to name it whatever he wants. I give you, “Farty McFartypants” by Jonah Shook.

A post shared by Sarah Shook & the Disarmers (@sarahshooksdisarmers) on

What’s your go-to comfort food?

Deep-fried tofu tacos with all the vegetables and a mountain of cilantro. 

Which Whiskey is your favorite — Scotch, Tennessee, Myers, Shivers, or Gentry?

Tennessee or Kentucky, every time.

Mustard or mayo?

Just Mayo by Hampton Creek!