Ashley Monroe’s Patchwork Quilt:
Tennessee Lightning

“Let me look at your radar,” Ashley Monroe says, pulling out her phone. “I have all kinds of radar apps on here: 24-hour flight radar, storm trackers…” She types in my location. “Yep, it just popped up red,” she says, forebodingly.

We’re speaking over Zoom about her album Tennessee Lightning and, fittingly, a massive storm is rumbling through New York, with loud thunderclaps sending a jolt through our conversation. Monroe is calling from an apartment in West Nashville, which she rents as a creative space in a building shared by fellow musicians and friends Meg McRee, Ben Chapman, and Lukas Nelson. The weather in Nashville is calm for now, but there’s always the chance another tempest could be brewing.

“For a while there I was like, someone’s gotta get me a bunker. ASAP,” she says.

Tennessee Lightning is her sixth studio album (not including the four she’s released as part of supergroup Pistol Annies alongside Miranda Lambert and Angaleena Presley) and her first since 2021’s Rosegold. The latter found her sloughing off the classic country sounds that defined her early work and embracing trap beats and synthy pop moments. Shortly after the release of Rosegold, Monroe underwent treatment for a rare form of blood cancer, a life-altering experience that she’s still processing. Now in remission, she feels newly awash in creative inspiration, breaking the creative silence that immediately followed her diagnosis.

The resulting album, her second as co-producer with GRAMMY-winning producer and engineer Gena Johnson, is a sprawling, 17-song “patchwork quilt” of songs that range from gritty rockers to moony love songs to bracingly stripped-down piano ballads. It’s less story-song-heavy than her beloved early work, but Monroe says that the album – a mix of new and older originals, along with a few carefully chosen covers – is as personal and revealing as anything she’s ever recorded.

“With every song on this record, I feel and see my own personal story in it,” she says. “Maybe I just didn’t need to put the third parties in this time.”

The release of Tennessee Lightning dovetails with the tenth anniversary of The Blade, Monroe’s GRAMMY-nominated 2015 album, which she recently celebrated with an intimate show at The Basement East and it remains fresh on her mind. She spoke to Good Country about her rootsy new sound, whether it’s safe to call this her Americana turn, and how music helps her weather life’s most painful storms.

I’m curious about the title of the album. It’s interesting, because in many ways, this feels like a homecoming, but then it’s also quite different from your earlier music. How did Tennessee Lightning start coming together?

Ashley Monroe: There’s actually a song called “Tennessee Lightning” that I wrote with Shelby Lynne and Jedd Hughes. It’s awesome, but by the end we had over 25 songs and it wasn’t fitting the album anymore. And at that point, it’s almost like Tennessee Lightning had become me, in a way. It’s just a zap of like, “This is everything. Boom.” Gena Johnson is the co-producer and engineer on this record and a dear friend. The two of us loaded up a ton of gear a couple years ago and rented a cabin in East Tennessee. We went to my dad’s grave, we went to see my Granny and Poppy and drove the back roads in Tazewell, Tennessee. We just immersed ourselves in going back to the roots of it all.

We set up the studio there and she recorded me on the front porch, she recorded me in the yard. We started recording “I’m Gonna Run,” which is a song I wrote in 2004, on the same trip as I wrote “Satisfied” and “Used.” We started with that song, and I was really trying not to overthink anything. I was just letting whatever songs needed to come through, come through. I always say this album is like a patchwork quilt of my life, and that applies to my friends that I’ve asked to play on this record: T Bone Burnett, Butch Walker, Brendan Benson, Marty Stuart, Brittney Spencer, Karen Fairchild. I made a joke the other day, “I’ve called in so many favors, I’m going to have to make new friends to call it more favors.”

I think people may be tempted to call this your Americana record. How do you feel about that?

Great. I’ll take that. Americana has been good to me. A lot of Americana radio stations played “Hands on You” when no one else would, and a lot of other songs. So that’s good company.

Also, I’m from East Tennessee, so no one can really hear my voice and say that I’m not country. It’s just there in the accent and the tenor of it. It’s Appalachia. That’s why I think it’s cool to not do something obvious sometimes, to not cut yourself short or shave the edges off. “I’m Gonna Run” reminds me of when Emmylou did Wrecking Ball, just those weird things she did that I love so much. I’ll take Americana all day.

The sound of this record is quite varied as well.

I guess Tennessee Lightning has different types, but it’s all real musicians, it’s all organic. “Amen Love” I was writing with Ashley Ray and Summer Overstreet, whose dad wrote “Forever and Ever Amen.” We wrote the song for Miley Cyrus, and Ashley’s husband recorded the demo. The song ended up not getting cut, but it just kept haunting me. I always like to do a sexy one, like “Hands on You” and “Wild Love,” so I thought it made sense for the young love part of the record.

Then there’s just me and Marty Stuart and Shelby Lynne on “The Touch,” and that’s as country as anything I’ve done. Gena was really good at getting the raw edges and the breaths and everything. “There You Are” was recorded in one take. It’s just me and the piano. I never did it again in the studio, ever. And then there are other songs that are more polished or have different instrumentation, but Tennessee Lightning to me is like a flash of everything. It’s not just one part; it’s all parts.

I’m wondering if maybe not chasing the country radio thing anymore freed you to explore all these different sounds.

I’m sure it did, even though I will say every label I’ve been on – Columbia, then RCA, then Warner LA and Warner Nashville – I’ve been lucky to have label people who were great at the creative part. My first single was “Satisfied,” which didn’t work, but I love that they chose that. Cris Lacy at Warner was also great at helping me pick songs. I didn’t think anyone would like “Hands on You,” but she heard the work tape and convinced me to record it.

When I got dropped by Warner, I thought to myself, “Now I can do anything.” And it’s been fun to explore. Gena is good about feeling when the spirit is moving through. She knows I like to sing in the dark or with candles. We shut the blinds, and I get to sit in that zone, and she captures it. It’s emotional, it’s raw, and I like recording like that without having to think, “What’s the label gonna say?”

You’ve been called a critical darling pretty much throughout your career. With Rosegold, it seemed like the first time the response was more tentative – warmly received, but not quite as glowing from everyone, particularly the “real country” crowd. Did the response to that record influence your approach to this one?

I really didn’t think about that at all, so that’s interesting. Honestly, though, what I will do next is a honky-tonk record. I know my band, and I know exactly what I’m going to do, which is honky-tonk it to the depths. I haven’t done a live thing like that, and I like switching it up. In my mind, what makes a memorable artist, a true artist, is when everything doesn’t sound exactly the same. Tennessee Lightning just felt like, “What are you feeling? What is it?” It’s cool when art reflects what you’re going through at the time, and for me going back to my roots will always have that earthiness.

I’m thankful for all the great reviews and the “critical darling” thing means a lot, especially as someone who doesn’t win awards or get nominated or included, really, in any circle. I’m okay with that, in a way, because I have a certain confidence — I know I have a gift. I know some people will feel it and some people won’t, but no one can deny I’m doing what I was put on this earth to do. I don’t put too much value on what people think of me, especially now after what I’ve been through. I won’t lose sleep over what a critic thinks.

Another thing that came up with Rosegold was this idea of protecting your joy, of not wanting to feel sadness anymore. Tennessee Lightning has songs that are more cutting – “There You Are” almost feels like it could be on The Blade. It made me wonder if your relationship to your art and this idea of protecting your joy changed between this album and the last one.

You know, when I got pregnant was really the first time I thought, “I’ve got to be careful about what enters here.” That doesn’t mean being delusional or not knowing that things can happen, will happen. Of course, something can always come along and bring you to your knees. But it’s about knowing when everything’s okay and shining a light on it and letting it radiate for a little bit. Rosegold was about hyperfocusing on the good and just letting it beam out for a split second.

I don’t mind if music is sad. I kind of prefer it. With this one, there are some sweet love songs, but also not all these songs are new. “My Favorite Movie” was one Vince [Gill] and I wrote in 2015 around The Blade time. He had it on one of his records, and just never did my version of it. “Hot Rod Pipedream” was written in 2015 or 2016, and “Risen Road” was from around the same time.

Let’s talk about The Blade, which just celebrated its tenth anniversary. You played the album through at a show in Nashville recently. What was it like revisiting those songs?

It was so special because I hadn’t really sung those songs. I’m funny about that – I don’t go back and listen to my old records. It’s not like you forget, but you do move on. Singing those songs, even at rehearsal, I got so emotional.

Did any of the songs in particular hit you differently this time?

I was thinking “I Buried Your Love Alive.” I literally felt thunder. I don’t know how to explain it, but there’s a ghost in that one. “Bombshell,” too. At the show I was thinking about how relevant it still is. I still understand the emotion in that song.

In the commentary you recorded at the time, you mentioned that “Bombshell” could be about a few different scenarios. It struck me that you said it could be about a breakup, but it could be about telling someone you have cancer.

I remember that. I forgot until you started to say that, but it’s so true. It’s that feeling of like, “This is big news, and it’s going to blow up life as I know it.” It was definitely a bombshell, and then I had to tell people I had cancer.

I was diagnosed in 2021, and when I came into Tennessee Lightning, I knew that I had to step back and reflect. I had to look back at the whole picture. I had someone ask me in an interview recently why I didn’t sing about cancer on the album. It’s like, I don’t want to think about cancer. Music to me is my holy, sacred place. Even though I sing about painful things and I can keep those emotions with me, I didn’t want to think about it enough to write a song about it. Maybe it’s that cancer has already robbed so much from me. I mean, it killed my dad. It’s already affected me, my family. Maybe I haven’t fully processed it yet. In a way I’m pretending it didn’t happen.

The only place on the record where I did feel the cancer feeling or acknowledgement of my emotions around it was “Jesus, Hold My Hand.” I used to sing that song when I was really young and feeling scared. I really felt it because when I was really sick, with chemo and everything, I felt as close as I ever have to that feeling of handing it over or surrender. It was like I was leaning on the spirit more than ever before.

The hymn is such a stunning moment, in a way that feels different from what you’ve done before. There are a lot of religious references in your songs, but there’s also this thread of religious guilt, particularly on the Pistol Annies songs “Beige” and “Leavers Lullaby.” There’s a lyric in the latter, “It’s as deep as the water that stains me” that comes to mind. Would you say your relationship to your faith has changed?

I can’t speak for the other Annies, but for me the “bite” in those songs is directed toward the people rather than about the pureness of it. The judgment and sending people to hell thing. I grew up with the Bible Belt and I think Jesus has a sense of humor and a lot of church people don’t. With “Risen Road,” it’s like, “You can read the Bible, quote it verse for verse/ You can steal a pain pill out of Mama’s purse.” And when I say “you,” I mean me, because I would do that. I think there’s something to being humble enough to say, “I can believe in God and still be exactly who I am.”

I wanted to ask about that line on “Risen Road,” which of course caught my attention. Between this song, “Best Years of My Life” and of course “Takin’ Pills,” pain pills have become something of a motif in your work. Why is that?

Well, because I was on pain pills for a long, long, long time. My dad died when I was 13, and at the time I was very straitlaced. All my family lived on the same road, we went to church, nobody cussed, nobody drank, nobody smoked. After my dad died, my mom kind of disappeared with a guy. She had a nervous breakdown, really, looking back. He died in February 2000, and she was gone by June.

Looking back, I was flailing. I was devastated, and my mom wasn’t around, and then my brother started having wild, wild parties and I was like, “Hell, I might as well. Give me a Zigma.” Everyone around me had pills and I’d say, “Give me a pill.” I was probably 14 or 15 and my cousin and I would keep a mirror under the front seat and snort oxycontin. Not oxycodone. Oxycontin. It’s a miracle I’m still alive, because I didn’t even know what that was. I just knew that it numbed me out. And, in all fairness, I needed numbing out. I’m not saying it’s the right thing to do, but sometimes, if you can just stay alive – and thank God I did – these things will get you through.

Honestly, though, I don’t think I was ever hooked on them. I’ve never had trouble giving up something when I know I need to. I was on them in my 20s a lot and I was drinking a lot at the time. And then, you know, I OD’d at Saddle Ranch in LA. Like, they thought I was dead. I was like, “Are you crazy? You survive all of that and then let a pill take you out?” So, after that, I quit taking them. But, you know, I took them after my C-section. I took all of them. I just think different people are wired differently and I do think it’s kind of funny now.

“She’s on the highest dose of Prozac a woman can take.” I was.

“She likes to pop her pain pills with every little ache.” I did.

It’s interesting, what you said about wanting to feel numb, because the songs that you wrote during that time had so much pain in them. They really cut.

Well, music’s always been where I let my pain seep out. When my dad died, I remember holding my guitar and sitting at the edge of my waterbed, and it was like the guitar was saving my life. It was keeping me together. And I still use music like that – I pour out pain that I don’t even know is in there sometimes. The pain pills don’t get you all the way numb. They get you numb for about 25 minutes, and I needed those 25 minutes back then.


Photo Credit: Erika Rock

The BGS Radio Hour – Episode 216

Welcome to the BGS Radio Hour! Since 2017, this weekly radio show and podcast has been a recap of all the great music, new and old, featured on the digital pages of BGS. This week, David Crosby and Sarah Jarosz join up for a Joni Mitchell number, husband-and-wife duo Darin and Brooke Aldridge bring us some beautiful bluegrass harmonies, LA’s own Los Lobos share their rendition of a favorite Jackson Browne tune, and much more.

APPLE PODCASTS, SPOTIFY

The Wallflowers – “Maybe Your Heart’s Not In It Anymore”

25 years after their breakout hit and almost a decade after their most recent release, The Wallflowers are back with a new album, Exit Wounds. In our interview with Jakob Dylan we talk about the project, singing with Shelby Lynne, the documentary Dylan executive produced, Echo in the Canyon, and more.

Ric Robertson – “Carolina Child”

We spoke with Ric Robertson about playing a popcorn kernel in a musical as a kid, his kite surfing aspirations, his new album Carolina Child, and more in a recent edition of 5+5.

Amy Ray Band – “Chuck Will’s Widow”

Amy Ray of The Indigo Girls finds herself often haunted by the song of the nocturnal songbird, the Chuck-will’s-widow: “I find that I witness the most profound moments in the midst of their songs, when everyone else is asleep. While I am often in need of rest, the respite I find in being awake under a miraculous and melodic night sky is too tempting for me to sleep. It’s a conundrum that inspires me, but also leaves me bleary-eyed.”

Darin and Brooke Aldridge – “Once In A While”

Bluegrass husband-and-wife duo Darin & Brooke Aldridge hope that every aspect of their music makes you smile — even more than “Once in a While!”

Matt the Electrician – “Home Again”

Folk singer-songwriter Matt The Electrician will return with a new album called We Imagined an Ending in November. A new track, “Home Again,” takes inspiration from the point of view of his teenage daughter. “The conundrum of parenthood, that as you finally start to figure some things out, and try to pass along some of that hard won wisdom, you’re greeted with your own teenage face staring balefully back at you.”

Tobacco City – “AA Blues”

Says Chris Coleslaw of Tobacco City’s latest single, “The character in the song is trapped between working in a brewery and staring at beers all day and trying to walk a sober line. I think regardless of your sobriety status we can all relate to those kind of blues.”

Jesse Daniel – “Clayton Was A Cowboy”

Jesse Daniel spoke with us about his new album, Beyond These Walls, about growing up catching crawdads and fishing, the chills-inducing feeling when a crowd sings along with his lyrics, and more in a recent 5+5.

Joy Oladokun – “Judas”

Joy Oladokun is able to do more with just an acoustic guitar and her voice than many artists can in an entire discography of work. And going from Arizona to L.A. then across country to Nashville with a new outlook and perspective, her music stands on a plane with a unique vantage point.

Luke LeBlanc – “Same Blues”

A new video for Luke LeBlanc’s co-written tune with Roy August, “Same Blues,” attempts to capture what the song is about: the tug of war between the status quo and what you’re currently doing versus that thing you really want to do.

Midnight North – “Silent Lonely Drifter”

“Silent Lonely Drifter” is an original folk melody reminiscent of timeless Appalachian string band music. Each verse references a different full moon, speaking to the natural balance that exists in the universe.

Los Lobos – “Jamaica Say You Will”

The Jackson Browne tune “Jamaica Say You Will” always resonated for the fellas of Los Lobos and the narrative and storytelling were attractive, too. So, they recorded their own rendition of the track on their latest project, Native Sons.

Aoife O’Donovan ft. Milk Carton Kids – “More Than We Know”

New music from Aoife O’Donovan is here and we’re loving it! Hear tracks created with Joe Henry and the Milk Carton Kids — one inspired by the modern classic re-telling of Peter Pan, the movie Hook.

John R. Miller – “Shenandoah Shakedown”

Depreciated, the new Rounder Records release from singer-songwriter John R. Miller, combines many of his string band and bluegrass influences with a satisfyingly melancholy and dark mood — plus plenty of fiddle.

David Crosby ft. Sarah Jarosz – “For Free”

Legendary singer, guitar picker, and songwriter David Crosby keeps his love for collaboration alive on his new album, For Free, which features guests and co-writers such as Sarah Jarosz, Michael McDonald, his son James Raymond, and more.


Photos: (L to R) Joy Oladokun by Nolan Knight; Aoife O’Donovan courtesy of Shorefire Media; David Crosby by Anna Webber

With New Music and Rock ‘n’ Roll Spirit, Jakob Dylan Revives The Wallflowers

Dedicated fans of the Wallflowers weren’t the only ones eager to hear new music from Jakob Dylan. Leading into the sessions for the new album, Exit Wounds, the band’s front man showed up with a batch of new material that even producer Butch Walker hadn’t heard yet.

“I don’t usually play my stuff before I get in the studio,” Dylan tells BGS. “If you have some rehearsals, yeah, you’ll work it up, but that’s one of the most exciting things for me. It’s like, I’ve got a secret here. I can’t wait to show up and show it to people I’m going to play with. I can’t wait to see the expressions on people’s faces — and I’m usually right. When something lights me up, it usually lights up other people.”

So far, the music from Exit Wounds has already been lighting up the late-night circuit. Next up is a national tour that begins in August. A few days before the album release, Dylan called in to BGS to talk about singing with Shelby Lynne, the music documentary Echo in the Canyon (for which he served as executive producer), and why he’s a better singer now, 25 years after “One Headlight” was the band’s inescapable radio smash.

BGS: What do you remember about the vibe in the studio as this record was coming together?

Dylan: There are all kinds of different situations that can birth a good record. I think starting out, you believe that things are supposed to be difficult and maybe even combative in the studio to get good things out of everybody. But I can confirm that I don’t think that is true. I don’t know that I ever thought it was true. On this record, the energy and the vibe was good from Day One and it persisted throughout. It was one of those things of having simultaneously what I considered a joy-making record but feeling like we were stretching out and doing great things.

You have a refreshed lineup in the band, too. When you are auditioning for the band, what are you listening for?

Well, I’m not sure that it’s a new lineup. It never has been a lineup, to be honest. The band made its first record in 1992 and that disintegrated pretty quickly by the time we got to Bringing Down the Horse [their 1996 breakout album]. That was already a new group of people and it continued on that path ever since. It was always designed to be my group. I always knew that was going to be the case. It’s been an evolution since then. There hasn’t been one lineup of this group that’s made two records, so it just continues on in that fashion.

But what am I looking for in players? Well, it’s not technique. It’s not technical abilities. I mean, I play rock ‘n’ roll music, [Laughs] so there’s just a little bit of room for that. But you’re just looking for the spirit in people, you know? A lot of people play great. There’s loads and loads of good musicians out there. I’ve worked with lots of them and we don’t have chemistry together sometimes. That’s disappointing, but first and foremost you look for people who listen to the same kind of music as you do, who have the same kind of shorthand in conversation. Then it’s really not that complicated afterwards, once you get that together.

It surprised me hearing Shelby Lynne come in on that first track, “Maybe Your Heart’s Not in It No More.” And she makes a few more appearances on the album, too. What does her voice bring out in this record?

I’m really grateful that she almost became a member of the group on the record. Butch Walker and I thought of her singing on the song, “Darlin’ Hold On.” But everything felt so good when she got there, and honestly, she finished that song in about 15 minutes. We said, “Well, you’re here. We’re just going to keep throwing songs at you if you’re OK with that.” And it just turned into, like, wow, she kind of became a member of the group, which I’m really glad about. I’m not the biggest fan on guest vocalists, necessarily. I mean, it is good at times but if you can get that person to be singing throughout, they’re part of the sound and the blend. I’m glad we were able to work that out with Shelby.

Let’s talk about songwriting a little bit. When you go to write these songs, is it just an acoustic guitar and a notebook? What does that look like as you’re writing?

Yeah, just like you said. The beginnings of it come from anywhere but the good ones come when you least expect it. When you actually make the effort to sit down write a song, that can be very frustrating and disappointing. But the good ones, you could be in your car or walking your dog. You don’t know. It comes from a conversation you heard and you can tell that is the germ of a song and it will nag at you until you can figure it out. And usually the best ones do come at once. I’ve had plenty of pages without lyrics without melody and it’s very hard to find places for those. Words themselves have melody in them — they have inherent melody. That’s why it’s best when they follow a simple chord pattern. When you’re younger, you’re hung up on trying to find interesting chord structures and patterns, “let’s put a minor here….” At the end of the day, there’s some use for a lot of that but keeping it simple and shooting straight is usually your best option.

Would you consider yourself to be influenced by country music?

For sure. I think we’re all a little confused about what country music is right now — and for a while now. When you say country music now, we all think of different things. George Jones for sure. … Not unlike Shelby, that voice is just special. They gave him all the awards for being the singer that he was, and the records were great, but I have to say I got to see him play one time, out here in L.A., and I was knocked off my feet. A lot of people modulate on that last verse, but I watched him take a breath and move it up a whole step in the middle of the song, which I was unfamiliar with. I thought it was pretty cool. You know, I can’t define to you what country music is. Is it hillbilly music? Is it the Louvin Brothers? I don’t really know what that term means so much anymore. I don’t know that it’s what we see on TV so much. But I tip my hat to everybody who’s doing it, either way.

When the Wallflowers were right out of the gate, vinyl wasn’t really around anymore, but this new record is coming out on vinyl. Are you a vinyl collector?

Yeah, I am. I’ve got a good turntable and I’ve got a tube amp, and always have. You’re right, though. That’s a complicated market. What gram of vinyl — there’s a lot of marketing going on. But I do like the act of doing it, as we all say. There’s a different mindset when you choose that record and put it on. But at the end of the day, as far as the quality of music, I just want to hear the music. Yeah, vinyl does sound the best, but I’ll listen to MP3s and I’ll listen to YouTube.

But there is something special about vinyl. When we started out, they weren’t making vinyl. They were making CDs with that big cardboard piece. Remember that? I think a couple of our records were on cassettes and that’s a long time ago. I just want to hear the song at the end of the day and I’m highly suspicious of the ways they keep making us buy the same music we have over and over again. [Laughs]

It’s clear you have a reverence for music from that vinyl era when you watch Echo in the Canyon. Looking back, what surprised you the most about putting that movie together?

I didn’t know documentaries took so long, I’ll tell you that. They’re a lot of work! But it’s interesting because you don’t have a script, you just have an idea. As you’re interviewing people, they say something interesting and you find yourself going down another path. It unfolds as you go. That’s exciting and frustrating at the same time. Some things don’t make the cut because they don’t fit the story that you were developing. Not that I didn’t have a fond appreciation for people putting films together, but it was good to see how that works and how it functions.

It was a good experience and obviously I got to talk to a lot of people. Some I knew a bit, some I knew a lot, and some I didn’t know at all. But it was a good opportunity to step out my own shoes and sit on the other side of the glass like you guys do. Sometimes it was a little daunting. I didn’t want anybody to be uncomfortable and regret showing up. That was the main mission, to be honest, but there wasn’t anybody that we tried to get involved that wasn’t interested. At the time, you’re just piecing it together and you’re appreciative that it’s going well. But I look at it now and I think it was pretty remarkable that we were able to get all those people together.

I think the melodies are a big reason those songs will live on. After spending so much time with the music of that era, did that influence the way you wrote for this record?

It just reconfirmed what I already knew: Don’t go to the studio if you don’t have good songs. It’s simple. That is why those records and those songs are so everlasting. They’ve got good bones and everything’s together. … They’re just great songs. They’re very pliable. I got to explore being a singer [in the film], which I hadn’t really done before. I sing my songs great because I wrote ‘em. I don’t consider my voice an instrument but I had to learn to do that with this big chunk of songs that were mostly done by really great singers. I discovered that I could do more with my voice than I imagined.

Your voice still sounds great, though. Twenty-five years or more into this, you still sound like you.

I appreciate that. I think I sound like myself, but I think I’m a better singer than I was because of Echo. I hear some of my earlier stuff and I can tell how limited I must have been. I can hear myself avoiding notes that I probably couldn’t get to, and it’s interesting to hear that. I can do more things now. But I am aware that people, after doing it quite a while, do start sounding quite different, whether it’s stylistic choices or just age. Sometimes for the better and often for the worse. But I don’t think I’m far enough along yet where you can say, “He doesn’t sound like he used to.” Maybe eventually. [Laughs] I try to treat my voice well and it’s mostly always been there for me. I’ve been very fortunate. I can’t say I treat it as well as I could but it hasn’t failed me yet.


Photo credit: Andrew Slater

With a New Album About His Turbulent Past, Waylon Payne Makes It Through

Roughly 20 years ago, Waylon Payne’s life had become enough of a mess that he’d been booted off tour by one of his closest friends. These days he’s in a much better spot, though many of the trials and tribulations of his 20s are woven throughout the narrative of his new album, Blue Eyes, The Harlot, The Queer, The Pusher and Me.

The 12-song collection emerged gradually on digital platforms three songs at a time, though now as a whole, it’s also available on vinyl, and it should fit neatly within his own album collection of Bobbie Gentry, Kris Kristofferson, Willie Nelson, and his late mother, Sammi Smith. His late father, Jody Payne, played guitar in Willie Nelson’s band for four decades.

With classic country music in his blood, Payne has had songs cut by songwriting partners like Miranda Lambert, Ashley Monroe, and Lee Ann Womack, yet Blue Eyes, The Harlot, The Queer, The Pusher and Me is uniquely his own story. “I’m extremely proud of it. Every song is mine, and every song is a story that I’m choosing to tell,” he says. “It’s been extremely freeing and extremely cool to know that I’ve made it out of a dire situation and that I lived to tell about it. That’s all I’m really trying to do, buddy, I’m trying to offer some hope and maybe a different viewpoint that people have heard before.”

BGS: What do you remember about the vibe in the studio while making this record?

Waylon Payne: It was a pretty interesting vibe. We cut it at Southern Ground, which used to be in its heyday the old Monument studio, which is where my mom cut “Help Me Make It Through the Night” and a bunch of her other hit songs. She did sessions when she was pregnant with me there, and I was a baby there, and I was a toddler there. It was pretty interesting to sit in the same spot that she stood and sing all of these songs and do this album. It was just lovely. It was something special and everybody knew it I think.

Did you keep a picture of her with you when you recorded the album?

I have her face on my left forearm so I can’t play the guitar without seeing her face.

How did you learn to play guitar? When did you pick it up?

Early 20s, maybe? My friend Shelby Lynne showed me a few chords, and once it bites you, once it gets its grips on you, you’re a slave to it — once it puts its power on you and gets around you. And that was it. I picked out some chords of my own and I pretty much taught myself everything else, or I’d ask somebody about a chord. I was around 23 or 24.

Is that when you started writing songs?

Yeah, that was around the same time, too. It all came along around the same time. I started learning some chords in Nashville but it was LA mostly that really brought it all home.

At what point did you realize that you enjoyed being on stage?

Probably about 2. [Laughs] Who wouldn’t enjoy that? Like I said, once it bites you, you’re bitten.

Was it the applause? The approval?

I think it was because when I was on stage, I was always with my mother. So, it was family. And that’s what I did it for, for the family.

Your parents are referenced in several songs, almost like characters in the songs. So, I’m curious when you’re singing “Sins of the Father,” is that about your father?

Oh yeah, exactly. I developed a drug problem and it was pretty much his fault. He showed me those drugs. When I got myself together and got myself sober, I had another buddy of mine named Edward Johnson come along that showed me what fathers and sons were really supposed to be like. It changed my life. That song’s about my father and my buddy Edward and his son Lake. Lake’s the one that counts it off in the beginning. Lake saved my life — he and his daddy did. They made me stand up to be a better man and they helped me get sober. I’m really proud of those boys.

There’s a line in “After the Storm” about your mother closing the door on you. And you sing that you have trust that it will open again. Is that emblematic of the experience of coming out to her?

Well, there were some deeper circumstances going on in the house than just me being gay. There was some sex abuse that had happened. It was just hard for the family to deal with. That was a brief period of our life, and that is totally a reference to that time period. [I’m saying,] I know that you’re my mother and I know that you’re the one that gave me life. You’re also the one that’s got to teach me the roughest lessons and that was a hard one, when she shut that door on me. But I knew that it wasn’t shut forever.

How old were you when that happened?

18 or 19.

Was there a moment when she reopened that door, when you felt like that relationship was back on track?

Yeah, about four, five, or six years later. We had a nice moment over Christmas and Shelby was responsible for bringing that relationship back together, too. She’s been like a sister to me for many, many years. I love her, love her deeply.

What year did you go to LA?

I probably ended up there in ’99 or 2000. I got fired out there. I was playing with Shelby [on tour promoting I Am Shelby Lynne] and maybe I was drinking and doing too many drugs. Being a dick, so she fired me. [Laughs] And I didn’t have any money to get home, so I stayed there and ended up making it — that’s basically all I can tell you about that.

When I moved to Nashville in the ‘90s, it seems like aspiring artists had a lot of places to play, and several stages were available to them for showcases and other performances. Were you able to take part in those kind of things during that time?

Man, when I came here in ’93 or ’94, Broadway [the city’s strip of downtown honky-tonks] was a godsend for me. Broadway and Printers Alley saved my life, because they introduced me to the greatest pickers I ever knew in my life. It gave me a place to sing six or seven nights a week. I would go to work at six o’clock at night, and by going to work, I mean we would show up down there and we’d start on one side of Broadway and we would sing on one side, go through Printers Alley, and then down the other side. That was how we got our chops in. We would go and find places to sing. We didn’t make any money, but that’s what I did. I learned how to do that stuff right in my hometown of Nashville, on Broadway.

How did you make ends meet if you weren’t making money in the bars?

Well, I was a prostitute back in the day for a while. I also drove hookers around. I was a construction worker, I was a short order cook, I’ve done a lot of things, pal.

There’s a different vibe in Nashville now than there was in the ‘90s — and of course, the ‘90s were different than the ‘70s, too. What do you like about the Nashville music community now?

What do I like about it?

Yeah, what makes it special, and why do you like to be part of it?

Well, I don’t know that I’m necessarily a huge part of it. I’ve got a group that I write with at Carnival — Lee Ann, Miranda, and Ashley, and those folks. I don’t know if I necessarily hang out with a lot of folks. If I’m part of the Nashville community now, then I’ll take that. That’s pretty freaking cool. That’s something I’ve never really heard with my name before, being part of the Nashville community.

I guess I think of you that way because I see your name as a co-writer on Ashley Monroe’s records. What is it about that writing relationship that makes it click?

Ashley, Miranda, and I started writing together four or five years ago on a regular basis, then Ashley and Aaron Raitiere and I write together a lot. We tend to write pretty good music together. If I write music with somebody and it clicks, and we get good songs, then that’s pretty much a good partnership and I’ll stick with that for a while.

You put this record out three songs at a time, but when I listened to it in its entirety, it struck me that there’s a theme of moving forward, and sometimes outright optimism, that comes through. Do you hear that too?

I mean, I always want to give people hope. That’s one of the biggest things about this record: Even though it’s about tragic situations, I still made it out.


Photo credit: Pooneh Ghana

LISTEN: Shelby Lynne, “Don’t Even Believe in Love”

Artist: Shelby Lynne
Hometown: Frankville, Alabama; Currently living in Los Angeles, California
Song: “Don’t Even Believe in Love”
Album: Shelby Lynne
Label: Thirty Tigers

In Their Words: “When love walks in, there’s not a damn thing you can do about it. You can’t fight it, defy it, or deny it. Love decides.” — Shelby Lynne


Photo credit: Amanda Demme

As an Author and Musician, Allison Moorer Writes About Her Tragic Past in ‘Blood’

Allison Moorer has always loved words and it shows in her new memoir, Blood. Expressed in a literary voice that’s both erudite and intimate, her writing goes well beyond the devastation of the 1986 incident where her father shot and killed her mother, and then himself. Surveying Blood as a whole, her childhood stories will be familiar to anyone who has grown up without money, who has relied on other family members to help raise them, and who has found an identity through music.

This fall, Moorer has been touring behind the book by presenting on-stage conversations with music-minded moderators, such as her sister Shelby Lynne (they affectionately call each other “Sissy”) and her husband Hayes Carll. During these events she performs music from her new album, also titled Blood. While that project is inspired by her family trauma, it is not a direct re-telling of it. Longtime producer Kenny Greenberg gives it a sonic texture that fits perfectly in a catalog that now spans two decades.

She caught up with the Bluegrass Situation by phone in between her travels.

BGS: I really admire the research you put into this project. You were willing to try to fill in some gaps. One of the passages that I thought was interesting was the email from your father’s friend, Leon, who wrote this line: “I’ve never figured out if Franklin was two people in one body or if he was one person who made a change into someone I did not know.”

AM: Yeah. That’s pretty powerful, isn’t it?

Do you remember the emotions you felt when you read that message from him?

I felt like I had been seen. Because that’s often how I felt about my father. One of the reasons I wrote to Leon in the first place was because very often I had heard about this great guy that my father was. So many people had admiration for him and the person that they described was not who I knew.

He was a teacher at Leroy High School. This was when I was very small but I remember him being the shop teacher, and he taught English. That’s how he was introduced to my mother in the first place, because he was a teacher where my aunt went to high school. He was a juvenile probation officer. His last job was overseeing the vocational school. And so he had an effect on a lot of people.

But at home, what I had in my mind was not matched up with this person that I heard people outside of our house describe. I spent probably too much time trying to reconcile that and what I know about that is we all are many things. Who we are on the outside is not always who we are on the inside, and we can be more than one thing at the time. So I think in some ways I came up with more questions than answers, but sometimes the questions are more important than the answers.

One thing I found interesting is that he seems to have passed on a love of music and a love of literature to you.

Absolutely.

Have you always been in love with words and storytelling?

Yeah. I don’t think that I knew when I was a kid that I was in love with words. I just knew I liked to read and I had an affinity for them. I somehow kind of knew how to read before I went to school. I went to first grade when I was 5 — funny thing about my momma, she decided that I didn’t need kindergarten and she forged my birth certificate and put me in first grade when I was 5.

It probably had something to do with her work schedule because kindergartners had a shorter school day I think. But they found out that, “Oh, well, Allison at age 5 goes in the advanced reading.” [Laughs] That’s a little revealing about who I am. But I definitely found solace in books and in music when I was a kid and still do, still very much do.

Your father was writing music and lyrics even before you and Shelby came along, but I didn’t know the history of “I’m the One to Blame” on your record. I heard the music before I read the book, then found out later that he wrote those lyrics. I was curious, how did the melody come about to that song?

Sissy wrote it. She found that lyric in his old briefcase, not long after they died. We were definitely in the throes of shock and grief, but I love that she was still able to go, “Hmmm, that’s pretty good. I think I’ll put tune to it.” [Laughs] She did, and she did a fantastic job. So that song’s been around all this time, and neither one of us had ever recorded it. I thought this album was a really good way to do that and to share that with the world. It was important to me that be heard and that he could finally get a song out there. I wanted to do that for him.

I think “The Ties that Bind” is one of the most eloquent songs you’ve ever written.

Thank you. I’m proud of that one, too. I think that’s something that every person asks themselves.

What was on your mind when you were writing that? Did you have to go to a certain frame of mind to get that song out?

Wrestling with the question of inheritance is a big deal for me. How do you take the good and not the bad? How do you make sense of where you come from, and from whom you come? And not drag all of the baggage with you? It’s a tough thing and it’s a never-ending question, right? It’s the theme of a lot of psychological exploration and family therapy and individual therapy. It depends on what school you come from, but a lot of things in people can be traced back to how they were raised, and by who raised them.

We inherited these qualities from our parents whether we want them or not. That’s what “All I Wanted” is about as well. It’s about that same thing – I really am sorry that I inherited your ability to argue with a fence post. But I’m really glad that I got, you know, whatever, this thing or the next thing. I think that’s something that we have to work at as people. I’m fascinated by families and by inherited traits.

There’s a passing reference in the book about how you can feel at home by putting books on the hotel nightstand. That struck a real visual with me. As you’ve moved over the years, you carried all your books with you?

Oh my God. You would not believe how much it cost to move those fuckers. Of course I did! And I’m sure you have the same problem. My books are my prized possessions in a way. I’ve got some guitars, I’ve got a kick-ass shoe collection, and my books, and my heirlooms from family and my little things… I don’t hang on to much. I’m not a hoarder of any kind. I like to keep things pretty sparse but it’s really difficult for me to get rid of a book.

You must feel very comfortable in a bookstore then.

I do. My dream job is to be a librarian.

I am curious about the book event that you just did in Mobile. Because so much of this book is set near there, what was it like for you to go back to that part of Alabama and tell the story?

Well, I played Birmingham on Wednesday night and Mobile on Thursday night, so I had family at both of them, and I have to say I was nervous about talking about this book in front of them. I didn’t ask permission from anybody, and I don’t have to, and I know that, but I still understand that some of these memories are painful. I also realize that some of the things that happened to my sister and me when we were kids might’ve still been unknown to some of our family members and our friends.

So, I’m aware of that and there’s part of me that wants to make sure everybody’s OK. But I also know that’s a trap. And taking care of people is not why I wrote this book. My desire to take care of people is not at all why I wrote this. I think that that’s worth mentioning because I think that not talking about these things is part of what perpetuates the cycle.

So I did feel very much that because I had family in the audience both nights, the instinct is to not say it, to not expose the secrets, to keep hiding because it makes everybody feel better. But what I know is that’s exactly the opposite reason of why I wrote this book. So I had to balance that with myself, and I was aware of it, and I just talked myself through it.

What caught me off guard in this book was the passage titled “What Happens When You Hit Your Daughter.” I felt that deeply.

A lot of people are feeling that.

What have people told you about that passage?

I’ve had a couple of people tell me that they’re going to hang it up in their office because they’re therapists. And I am no therapist. [Laughs] Or any sort of professional. I wrote that passage because I had done so much reading and research on the family and cyclical violence and what the effects of abuse are. On an intellectual level, it’s interesting, but on an emotional and personal level, it’s devastating to me. I have seen to varying degrees all of those things I talk about in that passage applied to my sister, I think. So I wrote it for us.

Look, it’s like this. I recognize that this book has done a lot for me in terms of me coming to terms with my childhood and in realizing what the fallout has been on us. It showed me to myself as art does. We reveal ourselves to ourselves through making art. And the wonderful thing about art and the purpose that it serves in the world is it serves as a mirror for other people. The job of the artist is to reflect the world.

And what I’m getting back from the world about this book is that it is encouraging other people to look under their own rocks and to look at themselves and look at where they came from. They want to then tell me their stories, which is a lot to absorb but I’m also honored and I’m happy about that because so much of these sorts of things are made worse by the shame that they put on us, because we’re told not to talk about Daddy’s drinking or Mama’s violence or whatever’s going on at home.

When children are told to deny what they see and hear and feel, they become distrustful of themselves. I have noticed that in myself. Because growing up we were always told, “Don’t say anything about this. Don’t say anything about that.” In essence, “This isn’t happening,” because you have to deny your feelings. I think that’s absolutely the wrong path. So if someone is able to speak their truth because I spoke mine, then it means I did a good thing.


Photo Credit: Heidi Ross

BGS Class of 2017: Second-Half Preview

Lee Ann Womack: TBD

This Is the Kit: Moonshine Freeze

Will Hoge: Anchors

Tyler Childers: Purgatory

Iron & Wine: Beast Epic

Suzanne Santo: Ruby Red

Joan Osborne: Songs of Bob Dylan

The Orphan Brigade: Heart of the Cave

Eliot Bronson: James

David Rawlings: Poor David’s Almanack

k.d. lang: Ingenue (reissue)

— Kelly McCartney

* * *

David Barbe: 10th of Seas

Iron & Wine: Beast Epic

Loretta Lynn: Wouldn’t It Be Great

Jerry Douglas Band: What If

Chris Stapleton: From A Room Vol. 2

Shelby Lynne and Allison Moorer: Not Dark Yet

Kacy & Clayton: The Siren’s Song

Nicole Watkins: Goodnight Rhonda Lee

Randy Newman: Dark Matter

Offa Rex: The Queen of Hearts

Lee Ann Womack: TBD

Gillian Welch & Dave Rawlings: The Harrow & the Harvest (reissue on vinyl!!!!!!!!!)

Lal & Mike Waterson: Bright Phoebus (reissue)

Carious: Even a Tree Can Shed Tears: Japanese Folk & Rock  (reissue)

Fairport Convention: Come All Ye: The First Ten Years (1968-1978) (reissue)

— Stephen Deusner

* * *

Tristen: Sneaker Waves 

Arcade Fire: Everything Now

Shelby Lynne and Allison Moorer: Not Dark Yet

Cordovas: That Sante Fe Channel

Iron & Wine: Beast Epic

The War on Drugs: A Deeper Understanding

The National: Sleep Well Beast

The Lone Bellow: Walk into a Storm

— Desiré Moses

* * *

Cory Chisel: Tell Me True

The War on Drugs: A Deeper Understanding

The National: Sleep Well Beast

Alex Williams: Better Than Myself

Kip Moore: Slowheart

Will Hoge: Anchors

Tyler Childers: Purgatory

— Marissa Moss

* * *

Shakey Graves: And the Horse He Road in On

Waxahatchee: Out in the Storm

Fat Possum Collection: Worried Blues 

Grizzly Bear: Painted Ruins 

Loretta Lynn: Wouldn’t It Be Great

Iron & Wine: Beast Epic 

Son Little: New Magic

The Lone Bellow: Walk Into a Storm

Benjamin Clementine: I Tell a Fly

— Amanda Wicks

* * *

Lee Ann Womack: TBD

Lee Ann Womack: TBD

Lee Ann Womack: TBD

Lee Ann Womack: TBD

Lee Ann Womack: TBD

— Justin Hiltner

Americana Music Association award noms 2012

 

Yesterday, right here in downtown Los Angeles at the Grammy Museum, the Americana Music Association announced it’s picks for the best artists and albums of the year.

The Sitch was fortunate enough to take it all in from the front row, and boy was it a sight to behold.  Americana legends Jim Lauderdale, Buddy Miller, Shelby Lynne, and Lucinda Willliams all took to the stage for several songs prior to [actor, musician, and recent LA Bluegrass Situation performer] John C Reilly‘s turn at the podium for the nominations.

The full nomination list is below:

ALBUM OF THE YEAR
Here We Rest – Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit
I’ll Never Get Out of This World Alive – Steve Earle
The Harrow & The Harvest – Gillian Welch
This One’s For Him: A Tribute to Guy Clark – Various Artists
 
ARTIST OF THE YEAR
Gillian Welch
Hayes Carll
Jason Isbell
Justin Townes Earle
 
EMERGING ARTIST OF THE YEAR
Alabama Shakes
Dawes
Deep Dark Woods
Robert Ellis
 
SONG OF THE YEAR
“Alabama Pines” – Written by Jason Isbell and performed by Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit
‘Come Around’ – Written and performed by Sarah Jarosz
“I Love” – Written by Tom T. Hall and performed by Patty Griffin
“Waiting on the Sky to Fall” – Written and performed by Steve Earle
 
INSTRUMENTALIST OF THE YEAR
Buddy Miller
Chris Thile
Darrell Scott
Dave Rawlings
 
DUO / GROUP OF THE YEAR
Carolina Chocolate Drops
Civil Wars
Gillian Welch and David Rawlings
Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit
Punch Brothers

Reilly summed it up best…

‘They call this the Americana Awards but really it should be the All the Great Artists Out Right Now Awards.’

-John C Reilly

We here at the Sitch are just thrilled to see so many enormously talented artists and friends on that list, and cannot wait to be at the Awards on September 12 at the Ryman Auditorium in Nashville!  A big congrats to all the honorees.

Be sure to check out all the nominated artists, and for more info on the Americana Music Association, visit http://americanamusic.org/