Tag: shania twain

Empowered Love Songs: Finding Strength Across Martina McBride’s Discography

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Consult the comments section of any Martina McBride music video and you will find paragraph-length, highly personal expressions of adversity and triumph. These entries are varied, but often take the form of earnest tributes to lost loved ones, painful confessions of romantic loneliness or haunting stories of abuse and neglect. It’s a testament to the power of McBride’s voice – that inimitable instrument that arguably did more than anyone else’s to popularize the wide, throaty belt style now common among female country singers – that her songs still provoke such intensely emotional reactions.

It also speaks to her choice of material. Many of McBride’s best-loved songs operate on a grand emotional scale, and she has singularly foregrounded issues of domestic violence and child abuse in her work. But even as social issues songs largely define her legacy, she has most often recorded love songs, approaching them with the same shrewdness and self-assurance that colors her most celebrated work.

Take, for example, “Safe in the Arms of Love,” a number four hit from 1995’s Wild Angels. Written by female songwriting trio Mary Ann Kennedy, Pam Rose and Pat Bunch, “Safe in the Arms of Love” was originally released in 1986 by Wild Choir, a short-lived country-rock outfit fronted by Gail Davies. More new wave than country, the Wild Choir version features a prominent bassline, heavy drums and synths, and little of the warmth or joy that McBride’s would bring to the song years later. McBride’s version is twangier and more streamlined, trading the original’s raw energy for country-pop polish and sunny bursts of fiddle and mandolin.

The first line of “Safe in the Arms of Love” is bracing, almost a cliche but not quite: “My heart’s not ready for the rocking chair.” It’s an off-kilter choice of words, immediately followed by a clarification: “I need somebody who really cares.” This first couplet sets the rules for the rest of the song, which moves between metaphor and straight-ahead, conversational lyricism as McBride voices her desire for a stabilizing partnership.

An avowed hater of “wimpy woman” and “doormat” songs, McBride brings a resolve that makes clear she isn’t looking to be rescued. Rather, like the narrator of Lucinda Williams’ “Passionate Kisses” – a number four country hit for Mary Chapin Carpenter in 1992 — she’s simply voicing her desires. (It’s no accident that the song’s chorus begins with the words I want.) McBride’s delivery is confident, never beseeching or desperate. Do we ever doubt she’ll achieve her romantic goals?

The song’s music video takes place in a circus-themed fantasy world inhabited by Cirque du Soleil performers dressed as children’s entertainers. There is, notably, no love interest in sight. In fact, men rarely figure in McBride’s videos, at least not as love objects. The men in her videos tend to appear only in glimpses, as with the abusive husband and father figures in “Independence Day” and “Concrete Angel,” flashes of motion that connote menace. In the videos for her love songs, she is more often than not alone, less a protagonist than a guide figure.

Consider the video for “Wild Angels” – filmed for whatever reason in a black and white, vérité style – which locates Martina on the roof of the Clock Tower Building in downtown Manhattan. The song is ostensibly about a couple whose bond prevails through thick and thin, but the video instead captures a group of citydwellers being visited by a mystical being. Then there’s the video for “My Baby Loves Me,” which features a barefoot Martina twirling in a floral dress as various, smiling couples pose behind an empty picture frame. (John McBride, Martina’s husband and long-time business partner, has a split-second cameo at the end of the video.)

Both “Wild Angels” and “My Baby Loves Me” continue the theme of the empowered love song. The rootsier “Wild Angels” presents a smartly egalitarian vision of love, with McBride expressing disbelief at her good fortune in finding such balance. “Somehow we wake up in each other’s arms,” she shrugs in the second verse before chalking it up to divine intervention in the song’s lofty, joyous chorus. The title track and opening song on McBride’s third album, “Wild Angels” also features the sound of McBride’s then-infant daughter Delaney giggling, a nod to the McBrides’ real-life love story and an indicator of how McBride would continue to foreground motherhood in her work.

Where “Safe in the Arms of Love” finds McBride searching for unconditional love, “My Baby Loves Me” takes the perspective of a woman who already has it. The song offers a typically country approach to beauty: fashion magazines, high heels, fancy clothes… who needs ‘em! It’s less feminist-presenting than, say, Shania Twain’s “Any Man of Mine,” but sets up a similar dynamic: This man is totally enthralled by me. In this country-pop version of the world, women run the show and men are their biggest cheerleaders.

Such was the utopian impulse of ‘90s country, particularly in the latter half of the decade, when a handful of female stars topped the charts nearly as often as their male peers and frequently sold more records. McBride was central to this moment and though she never quite reached the crossover heights of Twain or Faith Hill, she remained a steady presence on country radio even as the format purged female voices in the aughts and the wake of 9/11. She was in fact the only female country artist to notch a solo No. 1 during the entirety of 2002, a feat that wouldn’t be repeated until Gretchen Wilson took “Redneck Woman” to the top of the charts three years later. (This fact has depressing echoes of today’s hyper-masculine radio environment, in which it is nearly impossible for a woman to hit No. 1, even with the help of a male duet partner.)

To her detractors, McBride’s great sin at the turn of the millennium was her shift toward the smooth sounds of Adult Contemporary. She found great success in this format with “This One’s for the Girls” and “In My Daughter’s Eyes,” two hits from 2003’s Martina that reached No. 1 and No. 3, respectively. Critics have accused her of making “music for soccer moms,” an elitist term that equates suburban women with unrefined taste.

It’s true that McBride has at times leaned into inoffensive pop balladry, most successfully on “Valentine,” her hyper-smooth collaboration with pianist Jim Brickman that was her first brush with Adult Contemporary success in 1997. But to dismiss McBride’s music — which, yes, includes her honeyed love songs — as frothily unserious is to do a disservice to one of country’s great risk-takers. “Valentine” may not be hard-shell honky-tonk (for that, see cuts like “Cheap Whiskey” or her 2005 classic-country covers album, Timeless) but its softness isn’t a reason to reject it outright. It’s a symptom of country music’s eternal, exhausting authenticity debate that pop-leaning love songs, often the exact songs that allow women to break through country radio’s gender barrier and find commercial success, continue to be written off as superficial.

To be fair, not all of McBride’s more commercial instincts are brilliantly rendered; “I Love You” still smacks of a “This Kiss” retread, while “There You Are” is bland even as piano ballads go. But for every “I Love You” or “There You Are,” there’s an “I’m Gonna Love You Through It,” a 2011 cut about a breast cancer survivor who finds strength in the selfless love of her husband.

With its sweeping, string-laden sound, “I’m Gonna Love You Through It” risks being the kind of “soccer mom” fodder that McBride and her female peers have long been dinged for. But it’s also lyrically sober and undeniably moving, the kind of serious story song that has all but disappeared from the format. The song gave McBride her last top ten country hit and final GRAMMY nomination to date, for Best Country Solo Performance. (In one of the music industry’s great injustices, McBride has 14 GRAMMY nominations and zero wins.)

“Just take my hand, together we can do it,” McBride sings in the chorus, returning to the egalitarian vision of love that made her ‘90s work so disarming. Here, as in “Wild Angels,” McBride sees love not as a negation of self but rather as a mutual source of empowerment. Is it any wonder that her songs endure?

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Photo Credit: Martina McBride courtesy of Red Light Management.

BGS 5+5: Hannah Connolly

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Artist: Hannah Connolly
Hometown: Los Angeles, California (via Eau Claire, Wisconsin)
Latest Album: Shadowboxing
Personal nicknames (or rejected band names): Han, Hannah Banana, Hannah Montana, Hanny

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

Most of the songs I’ve written and recorded so far have been very autobiographical and written from a first-person perspective. I often write songs as a way of processing my life and experiences. With my latest album, Shadowboxing, that was still very much the case, with the exception of the title track.

“Shadowboxing” was the first time I recorded and released an original song that felt like it may have been meant for someone else. I don’t think I was hiding behind a character necessarily, but it was the first time I felt a character surface within a song. It made me excited to lean further into that way of writing. I imagine my next record will draw more heavily on the concept of zooming out and drawing inspiration from the stories around me, rather than within me.

What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?

One of my favorite shows to date was in Dublin, Ireland last fall. I was opening for my partner’s band, Young the Giant, and the crowd of over five hundred was the largest audience I’d played in front of in a while. I was a little nervous to be playing a more stripped down format opening for a rock band, but the second I stepped out on stage the crowd made me feel comfortable, supported, and excited. Looking out at that audience, being at peace in the moment and within my music was a feeling I’d dreamt of for a long time. To experience it in reality was surreal. That is a memory I am going to hold onto for a long time.

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

I first knew that I wanted to be a touring musician when I was a teenager and joined a pop punk band out of high school. We recorded an EP and self-booked a tour of the East Coast. Driving across the country in a van with friends, seeing new cities, and meeting new people was a highlight of my life up until that point. The minute we got home I wanted to go out and do it again. I’ve been chasing that feeling ever since and I feel so lucky to have returned to touring this year with my second album.

Which artist has influenced you the most – and how?

There are a lot of artists who have influenced me over the years, a lot of them being strong women with a clear message and powerful stage presence.

For me that list includes Dolly Parton, Brandi Carlile, Tracy Chapman, Sheryl Crow, Stevie Nicks, Ani DiFranco, Hayley Williams, and Shania Twain, among others.

Watching these women move through the world was an inspiration to me both as a musician and a person. I hope to pay forward the same kind of positive impact they had on me, in whatever capacity that may be.

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

One thing I’ve recently started to realize about my mission is that I want to show up as my full self, powerfully and unapologetically, so that others feel comfortable doing the same.

I spent a lot of my life wrestling self-doubt and fearing the judgment of others. Watching some of my favorite artists take ownership of their art and story helped model for me how I could do that for myself in my own way.

As an artist I aim to be free enough in my expression that others can feel more comfortable showing up as themselves as well. It’s a constant learning process and I find new ways that this goal challenges me everyday, but I am really proud of the ways I’ve been able to grow in recent months with this in mind.

Photo Credit: Cody Ackors

Country’s Genderf*ck Tradition

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

(Editor’s Note: Sign up here to receive Good Country issues when they launch, direct to your email inbox via Substack.)

Country music’s gender politics have always been, well, kind of fucked up. The genre itself is rooted in class-based declarations of authenticity and individualism, all while negotiating assimilation into urban life. Like any other large group of people, country music artists are by no means monolithic, and the genre’s approach to gender – especially femininity – is diverse. But for all the treacly love songs and mincing breakup songs, the ones where country divas’ lives are at the mercy of men, there are songs that flip that dynamic right on its head.

Stephanie Vander Wel’s Hillbilly Maidens, Okies, and Cowgirls illustrates how this dichotomy has existed since the genre began. Country music has always sold the story of rugged individualism, and that sense of individualism has paved the path for women who present themselves as more rugged than the “Pollyannas” they’re expected to be. That tradition continued well into the classic country era; Loretta Lynn’s “The Pill” and Tammy Wynette’s “D-I-V-O-R-C-E” masterfully display centering women’s agency, while couching that drive in humor and a catchy tune.

It’s no coincidence that if you ask someone on the street to name a country music artist, they’re most likely to list a woman. Dolly, of course, or the ‘90s run of divas like Shania, Faith, or The Chicks. As has been oft-discussed, this generation of country stars tapped into the ‘90s exuberance for individual freedom while questioning the traditional ties that bind us to our scripted gender roles. Faith Hill’s “Wild One” and, of course, The Chicks’ “Not Ready to Make Nice” portray a femininity that is self-confident: there will be no more shrinking behind men in too-large ten-gallon hats.

Marissa Moss and Dr. Jada Watson have extensively documented the decline in women’s presence on mainstream country radio since the aughts. But that doesn’t mean women are shutting up, and we are starting to see queer women, as well as nonbinary and trans artists, use their inspiration from the ‘90s to continue using country music to challenge gender norms. Roberta Lea’s “Too Much of a Woman” is brash, rejecting any sexist norms that would expect her to dim her light. Jessye DeSilva’s “Queen of the Backyard” and Paisley Fields’ “Periwinkle” are touching tributes to young people who know they don’t fit in and never will. Desert Mambas’ “Buzz Cut Blues” is a nod to Leslie Feinberg’s legendary no novel Stone Butch Blues, making good on country music’s promise of non-normative gender performance with a meditation on moving through the world as a transmasc person.

Throughout the century’s worth of country music canon, there is one throughline: this genre that celebrates outlaws and misfits must always celebrate women, femmes, non-men, and others who are doin’ it for themselves.

Photo of Dolly Parton from the Michael Ochs Archives.

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You’re Looking At (Feminine) Country

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

(Editor’s Note: Sign up here to receive Good Country issues when they launch, direct to your email inbox via Substack.)

Eight years ago, in 2016, the harp-playing half of Brooklyn-based folk duo Devil & the Deep Blue Sea, found herself filing away songs for a solo project.

“There were certain songs… [that] would tell me who Lizzie No was going to be,” she explained in a recent phone interview.
“There were songs that felt very personal, very femme, and a little more country and a little more pop than would be appropriate in my band. Those songs started getting categorized into the ‘new solo project’ category. And then, I just had to come up with a name, you know. Like, I needed my Sasha Fierce alter ego, to be able to stand in myself.”

The name she landed on, Lizzie No, was a doozy. Considering the femininity she noticed her new songs projecting, the decision to include the word “No” in her name was no small thing. Women, especially feminine women – especially Black feminine women – have a special relationship with the word. It was important to No that her solo singer-songwriter persona reflect the energy she wanted to project, the space she wanted to carve for herself and her songs.

“I think there’s a real difference between singing songs that you wrote in the context of a band versus being a solo artist and having people literally look at you, in your physical body, and associate the songs with you and yourself. So I needed an identity, a performer identity, that would be able to encapsulate the confidence and the directness, and yes the femininity, that I wanted to present with these songs that I was writing.”

The idea of mindfully presenting femininity is nothing new, of course. Women in all professions must decide how they’d like to present; how many minutes or hours they will spend before each workday putting on their face and dressing to impress. But, there is a special place in the history of country music for artists taking the stage while female.

It was far less than a century ago that female country singers were expected to travel with a husband, brother, or other male family member as their escort. Women country singers were expected to eschew ambition and to primarily be a pretty face with a pretty voice.

All that started to shift when Mother Maybelle and the Carter Sisters made their Grand Ole Opry debut in 1950 – the first all-female band on that storied stage. In fact, well aware of how women were perceived and received by the country music establishment, Mother Maybelle nonetheless insisted her daughters become masterful on their instruments, develop independent business acumen, and forge a career on the stage.

For the 74 years hence, women who can and do shred have been of great interest to country music critics and fans alike.
Author and critic Marissa A. Moss dove deep into this subject with her 2023 book, Her Country: How the Women of Country Music Busted Up the Old Boys Club. Meanwhile, on social media, fans and artists alike routinely return to the evergreen topic of how much airplay women get (or, rather, don’t) on country radio.

To consider what it means to show up wholly oneself while feminine in country music can feel like engaging with a Groundhog Day loop through tired, generations-old expectations. Granted, the options for women have broadened a bit since the Carter Sisters showed up in their gingham checks and transcended what one might have expected from pretty women who sing and play. (A new documentary by Kristen Vaurio on Paramount+ about the youngest Carter Sister, JUNE, is well worth a stream.)

The modern answer to the Carters’ quietly subversive embodiment is a cadre of demonstrably feminine women like Allison Russell, Margo Price, and Amanda Shires. Recent Grammy winner Russell comes off like a clarinet-wielding, angel-voiced supermodel, self-made from equal parts awful trauma and infectious joy. Price appears as a cross between Willie Nelson and Cher, riding her biting narrative lyricism on the vehicles of magic mushrooms and low-cut, glittery fringe. Shires saunters about in spiked heels and leotards, a finer fiddler/poet than you’ll find anywhere else on God’s green earth.

That each of these women is stunningly talented as a lyricist, multi-instrumentalist, and performer, is inarguably the most important thing. But the messages they convey by leaning hard into how they wear their gender, remind us that women in country music no longer need to amplify the pretty and take the brilliance behind the scenes. There’s more than enough space for both/and.

It wouldn’t be a leap to suggest this is thanks in part to a rising tide of queer country artists. Lizzie No, Russell, and others – Jaimee Harris, Brandy Clark, Jaime Wyatt – prioritize songcraft as equivalent to crafting persona. Other queer artists like Paisley Fields subvert the masculine/feminine binary with candid expressions of personhood that transcend traditional femininity while remaining sonically adherent to traditional country music.

All of this raises numerous questions, including: What does 21st century femininity bring to the cis-het boys’ club of country music? Shouldn’t women get country airplay while also being free to show up as the full human they are?

Lizzie No is a good example of a walking answer to both questions.

A rising country singer whose music lands warmly – a stew of Dolly and Emmylou, a twinge of Kris, just a pinch of Sleater Kinney – her new album, Halfsies, is a mostly-country and occasionally rock and roll rumination on the intersections of love, identity, and freedom. While it may resonate for plenty of men and folks who don’t identify as feminine, it is, in other words, about the numerous conundrums and longing-for-transcendence of womanhood.

“There’s a patriarchal anxiety around performance and illusion, and we associate that with femininity,” No says. “[I’m] actually leaning into that and saying, ‘It’s all a mask. Gender is a mask for me and for you.’ That’s a big part of how I’ve constructed my identity as Lizzie No. I am one thousand different things and [you shouldn’t] try to narrow it down musically, or in terms of gender.”

She goes on to affirm that the way she constructed her performer persona is similar to drag. Considering country music is most often associated with Nashville (where No recently relocated from New York City), it’s worth considering that this new wave of feminine people in country music has risen at the same time as a push-back against drag performers in the same state and across the country. The tension between these two phenomena is mostly political and definitely charged.

When indie band Yo La Tengo played a show in Nashville shortly after the state passed its anti-drag bill, their decision to wear dresses onstage was a funny, tongue-in-cheek protest. An overt resistance, an assertion of allyship. This is different from when someone like nonbinary country singer Paisley Fields steps out in a sheer top and jewelry, or a dress. The former is clowning on politicians; the latter is throwing on something comfortable to engage in vulnerable, intensely personal creative expression. The former is playing to its indie rock audience, replete with left-leaning, ironic hipsters; the latter is forging a path of their own in the country music world, where femininity is a little more… complicated.

“The first thing that comes to mind when it comes to femininity in country music is just how misogynistic of a genre it is,” Fields said in a recent interview.

For example, they added, “The first time I wore a dress [onstage], I noticed the way people treat me is very different. Even if I’m just in a more, like, sort of flamboyant or more feminine look—maybe hot pink pants or something – I’m treated very differently. If I’m wearing a dress, it’s almost a little scary.”

Over the past couple of years, since coming out as nonbinary, Fields has been exploring what it means for a person assigned male at birth to express authentic femininity on a country stage. Indeed, they are just as likely to appear in the jeans-boots-hat costume of a country man as they are in a sparkly net top and purple chaps – an outfit nobody would look twice at, were it donned by Margo Price or Lizzie No. In the process, they’ve firmed up their own convictions around country music’s relationship with femininity.

“It would be better for a woman to be masculine [in country music] than for a man to be feminine,” they say. To clarify: “Some of the most successful women in country music are obviously very feminine and embrace their femininity, like Dolly Parton and [Shania] Twain. But there is this sort of like, tough as nails [persona], which I guess is perceived a lot of times as masculine.”
Granted, this tough-as-nails persona is often an outcropping of the mountains these women have needed to climb in order to make it onto the big stage.

In her 2022 memoir, Maybe We’ll Make It, Price detailed a few shady encounters with Nashville songwriters and executives who saw her as a young, hopeful girl who deserved to be exploited. That she survived these instances and earned success with her music on her own terms, in the end, perhaps lends itself to a tough-as-nails persona. But it is one that comes from being a woman with well-marked boundaries in a misogynistic boys club. When she rode into the 2022 Stagecoach Festival in a crop top and glitter skirt, on horseback, she knew she’d earned the right.

This balance of toughness and femininity (often used in a context where it’s synonymous with “weak” or “fragile” or “naïve”) is indeed not a stretch, but rather the innate characteristic of a woman with a strong moral center and the desire to get hers.

Lizzie No explains perhaps better than this writer can.

“I feel my most feminine when I am in some way using my physical body to achieve political ends,” she says. “To me, that’s my ideal of femininity. It’s like the women who lured Nazis to their death by being hot. When I want to post about taking down the government, you know, I will always use a bikini pic. … Because it’s like, hey, look over here, you’re going see my midriff and you’re going to learn about how capitalism has alienated us from ourselves.”

Photos of Lizzie No by Cole Nielsen.

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NEWS: BGS Announces New Brand, Good Country

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

BGS is proud to announce the launch of a new brand in 2024: GOOD COUNTRY. By this point, you may have seen or heard mentions of Good Country on our site, at our events, and on our socials feeds as we prepare this exciting new expansion for our readers and fans.

Launching in mid-January 2024, Good Country is a curated, bespoke email newsletter that will highlight all good country from across the roots music landscape. Every other week, GC will deliver high-end country music reporting, long reads, playlists, videos, and exclusive content from your favorite country artists direct to your email inbox. As you scroll, you’ll dive into the deep and broad world of Good Country, from gritty and raw Americana to glitzy and glamorous radio hits, from bluegrass supergroups to southern rock ensembles and swampy string bands. Sign up for Good Country now.

“Good Country is a brand new horizon for BGS,” says managing editor Justin Hiltner. “But, at the same time, it’s nothing more than a reinforcement of our values as a media company and roots music community. Country – like its family members bluegrass, folk, and Americana – is more than just music, it’s a lifestyle, an identity, a way of being. There’s so much good country being made out there right now and we know our audience agrees. Whatever ‘good country’ means, you’ll know it when you hear it. And you’ll hear plenty of it in this newsletter!”

Each issue of Good Country will center features, think pieces, and interviews penned by the best writers and thinkers in country music highlighting not just the biggest names in the genre, but new and upstart artists as well. Exclusive newsletter content will live alongside deep dive playlists, sonic explorations, and thoughtful examinations of what country is, who makes it, and to whom it can belong – everyone.

BGS co-founder, actor, activist, and musician Ed Helms, will be featured in each issue as well with “Ed’s Picks,” artists and bands selected by Helms himself, direct from his own listening.

“From the very beginning, BGS was forged on a foundation of celebrating the full spectrum of roots music fans and artists,” explains BGS co-founder Amy Reitnouer Jacobs. “This community has never been one thing, nor has it been static. It’s a diverse, expansive, and ever-changing art form. The same can and should be said for country music. And that’s why now is the perfect time to create a more representative media landscape. It’s time for Good Country.”

Good Country’s first issues will feature music, art, and content featuring Zach Bryan, Sierra Ferrell, Amanda Fields, Veronique Medrano, Shania Twain, Chris Stapleton, Vincent Neil Emerson, Brittney Spencer, and so many more. No matter your entry point to this music, with our new brand and newsletter you will find endless Good Country to enjoy. Interact with content in your email inbox, on our website, and on our social media – wherever you are, Good Country will meet you there.

Good Country isn’t about deciding what is or isn’t good country music. Good Country is a place. It’s a way of looking at the world, a way of enjoying music. If you think it’s good and you think it’s country, then you’ve found Good Country.

Sign up now to be one of the first readers to receive Good Country direct to your email inbox. And, begin your exploration of Good Country with our BGS Class of 2023: Good Country year-end list.

Photo Credit: Zach Bryan by Trevor Pavlik; Vincent Neil Emerson by Thomas Crabtree; Sierra Ferrell by Bobbi Rich.

5 Videos to Welcome You to the World of Orville Peck

Posted on by Shelby Williamson

For the past few years, Orville Peck has graced our ears – and our screens – with a western drama that’s uniquely his. Not only do his impressive vocals and gauzy soundscapes – complete with mysterious electric and steel guitar – take the listener to a dreamy wonderland somewhere between the throwback sounds of pop music from days gone by and classic country from the likes of Patsy Cline, but the accompanying music videos – and his identity always hidden by his signature mask – have created a universe and perpetuated an aesthetic that has broken into the mainstream. Western fringe and cowboy hats seem to be everywhere these days, and while this millennium’s “yeehaw” culture was certainly brought to the masses by Lil Nas X, Orville Peck has carried it on with leather, rhinestones, and chaps – and a dramatic, distinctly countrypolitan sound.

His videos seem to transport us into a fever dream, each one a unique world all its own, but still grounded firmly in our familiar reality, and floating along the airwaves of the now-familiar, surreal world of Orville Peck. From a hazy daydream at the Chicken Ranch brothel in Reno, to chilly, isolating mountain landscapes, blossoming hope despite the consuming grasp of nostalgia, and the Daytona sands, here are five of our favorite examples that construct Orville Peck’s cinematic universe, in both song and scene:

“Dead of Night” (Pony)

“No Glory in the West” (Show Pony)

“Summertime” (Show Pony)

“The Curse of the Blackened Eye” (Bronco)

“Daytona Sand” (Bronco)

BONUS: “Legends Never Die” with Shania Twain (Show Pony)

Listen to our Essential Orville Peck playlist celebrating our Artist of the Month here.

BGS 5+5: Northcote

Posted on by Editor

Artist name: Northcote (Matt Goud)
Hometown: Carlyle, Saskatchewan, Canada
Latest album: Let Me Roar (out October 23, 2020)
Personal nicknames (or rejected band names): Matt, Big Cat, Coat

Which artist has influenced you the most … and how?

I was playing solo shows in cafes while in a full-time hardcore band, that’s how it started for me. When the band broke up I moved out west and during that first year of playing solo I would cover Gillian Welch, Chuck Ragan/Hot Water Music and Brian Fallon/The Gaslight Anthem songs in my set. I remember learning Petty and Springsteen songs to fill my set for when I was singing in tourist bars. You can play “The Waiting” and “Dancing in the Dark” for a long time on a Monday night to help nudge along a three-hour set. The artist that has influenced me the most in the last ten years is Dave Hause. He has taken me on the road many times and I have got to see his energy and passion for the job. He plays with the urgency and respect that it could all go away and I admired that because he was/is right. Gillian Welch is the songwriter I come back to the most often and whose records I feel most at home with. John Moreland in the last bunch of years is like that for me as well. Finally, I was in grade 5 or 6 when Shania Twain’s hit songs began to come out and I did perform them lip-synching in school.

What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?

It must have been 2010 or so, maybe earlier. I was playing on my first release as Northcote and was out east in Saint John, New Brunswick. It is a small city and I think I’ve only been back once since. It’s near Fredericton where we usually stop on tour. The venue that day had an alley entrance with brick walls on either side of the alley. The room had a low ceiling and seemed like a small abandoned store. I remember there were things left behind on the floor like folks had left in a hurry. The walls were white and blue like sky. I don’t remember if there was a PA or not. We were packed in the place about 25 of us singing along as I played through my first EP and the singalongs were quite loud. I was surprised and I felt lost and at home all at once. At that time everyone present was a beginner and we were all just giving it an honest try and that is a very sacred place to be in my opinion.

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

Before bringing my attention to working as a musician I was studying at a religious college training to be a minister. Over the years the sense of poetry from scripture has stuck with me. I’ve gone from the poems of Thomas Merton to Rumi to listening to Ram Dass then back full circle now. In my twenties I explored more angular and art house influences which are still refreshing at times, but less influential these days. I think my answer is religious devotional writing? My god. For more context, my recent influences are Lovecraft Country (TV), Anderson .Paak’s album Ventura, and Miley Cyrus’ “Slide Away.” The two books open on my desk are Teachings of the Christian Mystics and Thich Nhat Hanh’s How to Connect.

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

When we were making Let Me Roar, each morning before I took a shower I would put on the album Trance Friendz by Ólafur Arnalds and Nils Frahm. After that I went to the yoga mat to do some work then made coffee and had a few cigarettes. We had boiled eggs most mornings with bagels. After the work day we made dinner together in the kitchenette and watched the hockey playoffs or a lesser-known horror film. During one film the lead character ate a chicken wing out of the fridge after finding a deceased person. The character said, “Honey garlic, I love it.” From then on in the studio, after describing something we would say, “I love it” in honor of the horror film character.

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

I was invited to perform at the Alianait Arts Festival in Iqaluit, Nunavut, a few years back. I wasn’t feeling very good those days and the opportunity to go up North was a bright light for me and is a precious memory that I will never forget. One night up North there was a dinner party hosted by folks in the community. There was a spread of local food and I can’t remember what all was served, but I tried some and enjoyed the warmth and hospitality. There was boxed wine on the rocks and we saw the evening sun. One of those nights some people from the festival invited me to a hall where musicians from the festival were sitting in a circle singing and laughing and telling stories. Since that trip up to play the festival, my wife and I have moved, I quit drinking, we made the new Northcote record and I found meaningful work at my day job in Victoria.

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6Ha8VdD55SEGNJcKWiUAhM?si=IkUWvU1GR6OGDOnMt8ul1g

Photo credit: Matt Postal

Dolly Parton Carries Childhood Memories Throughout Her Career

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Back through the years, I go wandering once again
Back to the seasons of my youth…

So begins “Coat of Many Colors,” which Dolly Parton frequently cites as the favorite song she’s written. That 1971 country classic is just one example of Parton’s ability to view the world through a child’s eye, whether she’s writing about her own life, placing a fictional young character in dramatic circumstances, or simply making a connection to a new generation of kids.

The newest example of this gift is Dumplin’ – a Netflix film where an overweight teenager finds solace in Dolly’s music. Leading up to the movie’s release, Parton released a duet version of “Here I Am” with Sia – an ironic choice, as the pop star is famous for singing with her back to the audience. But that anthem of self-declaration sets the tone for the Dumplin’ soundtrack, underscoring one of the reasons that a teenage girl would love Parton’s music in the first place. The heartfelt film is based on a young adult novel by Julie Murphy.

Seeing an early cut of Dumplin’ inspired Parton to write “Girl in the Movies,” a thoughtful song that finds her identifying with that very character — the “girl in the movies.” Parton told NPR that she wrote it for every little boy and girl. The song carries a strong message, she says: “Don’t just live in a fantasy of watching someone else live their lives. You star in your own role. You be the star of your own life.”

Parton has embodied that perspective for 60 years. In fact, 2019 is the 60th anniversary of the first time she released a song she wrote – in this case, “Puppy Love,” composed with her uncle Bill Owens. Parton was 11 years old when she wrote it, 12 when she recorded it, and 13 when it was released as a single on the tiny Goldband Records. She sang locally around Knoxville, Tennessee, and moved to Nashville on the day after she graduated from high school in 1964. Two years later and still chasing her dreams, she married Carl Dean, a lasting union that nonetheless yielded no children of their own.

Yet time and time again she incorporated a child into the storyline of her music. For example, in “Mommie, Ain’t That Daddy,” Parton sings from the perspective of a woman whose kids happen to see their father begging for money. In “Jeannie’s Afraid of the Dark,” Parton describes Jeannie as a child who feared burial; her duet partner Porter Wagoner then reveals that Jeannie dies. “Malena” is another doomed child who dies on the night of her birthday, finally receiving the set of wings she’d asked for.

By 1970, Parton had carved out a solo career in addition to her role on Porter Wagoner’s TV show. Her first No. 1 hit, “Joshua,” tells the story of an orphaned girl who hears about a mysterious man living a good ways down the railroad track. Curious, she seeks him out – and then promptly moves in with him. (“Why, you’re just what I’ve been lookin’ for!” she exclaims.) The poetic “Coat of Many Colors” arrived a year later, serving as a morality tale that still resonates decades later.

Parton employed that same autobiographical approach for “In the Good Old Days (When Times Were Bad),” a gem from My Tennessee Mountain Home. Reflecting on her childhood years, she sings, “No amount of money could buy from me the memories I have of them / No amount of money could pay me to go back and live through it again.” (Merle Haggard identified with the lyrics so much that he recorded a version, too.) Another of the compositions on that album is simply titled “I Remember” and finds her blissfully recalling those seasons of her youth. Of course, as she matured, so did her songwriting, most notably on poignant compositions like “I Will Always Love You,” “Light of a Clear Blue Morning,” and of course, “Jolene.”

Still, if you dig into her albums from this era, you’ll find songs like “Me and Little Andy,” about a poor girl and her dog who wind up on Dolly’s doorstep. She agrees to let them spend the night; by morning, the girl and the dog are both dead. Another one, “Mammie,” is about a midwife who raises a child after the mother dies at birth and then teaches the child to sing and play guitar — but Mammie herself doesn’t live to the end of song. “Silver Sandals” recounts the story of a disabled young girl who couldn’t walk; when she inevitably dies, Dolly and Porter imagine her happily walking up the golden stairs of Heaven.

On a brighter note, Dolly reminisces about a banjo picker she knew as a kid named “Applejack.” Almost like a precursor to Dumplin’, Parton composed “Shattered Image” about sitting on a bridge as a girl and throwing rocks into her reflection in the water. She compares the experience to the way people were shattering her public image as an adult. A 1979 album cut, “Nickels and Dimes,” is a co-write with her brother Floyd Parton, who died in December. While writing it, Dolly thought about how she’d open up her guitar case in downtown Knoxville as a young girl and busk in order to get enough quarters to buy hamburgers. By the time the song ends, she’s a star, but here’s how it begins:

“I used to stand on the corner and sing as a child
And I’d play my guitar and sing as the people went by
The sidewalks were crowded but I’d just sing louder ‘cause I didn’t mind
Spending my time, spinning my rhymes, and singing for nickels and dimes.”

Even beyond her musical output, Parton has kept a strong bond between herself and a younger generation. In 1986, she invested in a theme park in East Tennessee and rebranded it as Dollywood – a gift that keeps on giving, with new attractions added nearly every year. And it’s not all roller coasters. Parton’s mother sewed a replica of the fabled coat of many colors to display in the museum dedicated to Dolly’s life and career.

Nearly a decade later, Parton instituted the Imagination Library, where pre-school children receive a monthly book at no charge. To these lucky kids, Parton is known as “The Book Lady.” Meanwhile, “Coat of Many Colors” has been successfully transformed into a children’s book and an award-winning TV movie, in addition to being recorded by the likes of Eva Cassidy, Emmylou Harris, Joey & Rory, and Alison Krauss & Shania Twain.

When Parton was 70 years old, she secured a No. 1 country album with 2016’s Pure & Simple. One of the most charming songs on it is titled “I’m Sixteen,” where she sings, “It goes to show you’re never old / Unless you choose to be / And I will be sixteen forever / Just as long as you love me.” A year later she released her first-ever children’s album, I Believe in You.

As 2019 begins, Parton is in the spotlight again. On January 6, “Girl in the Movies” will compete for a Golden Globe award in the category of  Best Original Song in a Motion Picture. A month later, she will be recognized as the MusiCares Person of the Year at an all-star concert event, just a day before the Grammy awards. Along with celebrating her magnificent musical achievements, the presentation also acknowledges the fact that the Imagination Library has given out 100 million books since its inception. Parton is the first member of the Nashville music community to be honored at the annual MusiCares gala.

Way down in the fall, Parton will return to the Grand Ole Opry, celebrating the 50th anniversary of her induction in October. But her history to the Opry stretches about a decade before that. When she was 13, Parton and her uncle Bill Owens had lingered outside the Ryman to meet Johnny Cash. When he emerged, a starstruck Parton begged Cash to let her sing on stage – but it would take a while for this dream to be realized. In time, Opry star Jimmy C. Newman gave up his slot for her, although Cash handled the introduction that night. According to Parton’s autobiography, Cash told the audience, “We’ve got a little girl from up here in East Tennessee. Her daddy’s listening to the radio at home, and she’s gonna be in real trouble if she doesn’t sing tonight, so let’s bring her out here!”

Parton wrote about this career milestone in her book: “I know I had never heard a crowd cheer and shout and clap that way. And they were doing it all for me. I got three encores. This time I was prepared for an encore, but not three, not at the Grand Ole Opry. Someone told me later, ‘You looked like you were out there saying, “Here I am, this is me.”’ I was. Not just to that audience but to the whole world.”

Illustration: Zachary Johnson

MIXTAPE: It’s a Cheating Situation

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About two weeks into February, you’ll find that darlings in love glow; strong, single types treat themselves; and the unlucky who’ve been wronged get a brutal reminder of that wronging. Who needs all those normative flowers, heart-shaped boxes, chocolate-dipped strawberries, and bubbly? Who needs that ungrateful someone who-shall-not-be-named with the wandering eye? We’ll take depressing songs about heartbreak and infidelity instead, thanks. At least, that’s what we’ll keep telling ourselves.

Ricky Skaggs: “Don’t Cheat in Our Hometown”

Ricky started performing this song with Ralph Stanley and the Clinch Mountain Boys back when both he and a young Keith Whitley were in the band. (The best iteration of the Clinch Mountain Boys ever? Yes.) Now, it would seem like the subject of this song would go without saying. While we do not condone philandering, we do recommend sticking to this rule of thumb, if you find yourself thinking it’s smart to break his heart and run down his name. (As a bonus, check out the album artwork from Ricky’s eponymous country record. It is everything.)

Darrell Scott: “Too Close to Comfort”

There’s one line in this song that bugged me for a while: “Lying with strangers one more last time.” It felt clunky, the grammar felt off. Then one day, it just hit me. There have been plenty of “last times” before this one. It’s the singer’s last “last time.” Just once more. Anyone with first-hand experience of the foolin’ around kind knows that with this line — hell, the whole song — Darrell Scott delivers songwriting gold, once again.

J.D. Crowe & the New South: “Summer Wages”

It would seem that there’s a much higher rate of friends stealing friends’ girls in bluegrass music than other genres. Tony sings this with such conviction; it really is one of the best existentially sad songs of bluegrass. “Never leave your woman alone when your friends are out to steal her. She’ll be gambled and lost like summer wages.”

Dolly Parton: “I’m Gonna Sleep with One Eye Open”

Dolly has no shortage of cheating songs in her repertoire. (Let’s be honest: “Jolene” would’ve been too easy a choice.) It’s nice to hear a woman sing cheating songs because, despite the greater number of songs sung by jilted men, we know infidelity isn’t really a gender issue; it’s pretty much just a human one.

Flatt & Scruggs and the Foggy Mountain Boys: “I’ll Go Stepping Too”

Just a classic. Lester’s drawl, Earl’s banjo, the iconic fiddle turn-around kickoff … you gotta love it all. Equal footing in an unfaithful relationship might not be the best approach, though. Just make sure you put out the cat before you go stepping, too.

John Prine: “It’s a Cheating Situation”

John Prine and Irish folk singer Dolores Keane hit the nail so solidly on the head. They sing to the humanity we overlook in wandering spouses or significant others. “It’s a cheating situation. Just a cheap imitation. Doing what we have to do. When there’s no love at home.” This one was written by Moe Bandy, who happens to be so adept at penning cheating songs, we had to include him later on in this list, too.

Nickel Creek: “Can’t Complain”

This song feels like a sort of roots music trance experiment — with its title as mantra. To the offending party, cheating often feels like an inevitability, but does that absolve the sin? In retrospect, do the circumstances change the nature of the outcome? Or perhaps the crux is that, despite the way things end and the bridges burnt, maybe it’s all still worth it. There’s a redemptive message we can get behind.

The Kendalls: “Heaven’s Just a Sin Away”

Now this is a song with a hook. Yeah, it’s a little weird to hear a father and daughter sing in harmony about forbidden love, but let’s just gloss over that and enjoy it for what it is: a killer, old-fashioned, bittersweet, real country, cheatin’ duet with some sick twin electric guitar. Bonus: Check out their tune “Pittsburgh Stealers.” Once again, a cheating song, but with steel mills and, yes, football wordplay for a hook. Simply masterful.

Shania Twain: “Whose Bed Have Your Boots Been Under?”

Two words: guilty pleasure. This is like the country version of “Mambo No. 5” … “List a bunch of women’s names!” But damn, it’s an earworm. End of caption.

Moe Bandy: “I Just Started Hatin’ Cheatin’ Songs Today”

Listening to heartbreak song after heartbreak song can be particularly painful when you empathize a little too strongly with them. Throw-a-bottle-at-the-jukebox painful. But those moments are when we find the therapeutic power of song at its strongest. It is comforting to know there are other sad bastards out there taking out their hurt on depressing records, too, right?

Doyle & Debbie: “When You’re Screwin’ Other Women (Think of Me)”

The reason we had to put this song last on this list is because it renders all of the other songs above null and void. This is the only one that matters. This is the magnum opus of cheating songs done up right by America’s number one country sweethearts. Happy Valentine’s Day, y’all.

Photo credit: KTDrasky via Foter.com / CC BY