Tag: Sierra Hull

Is Adam Wright the Poet Laureate of Music Row?

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Adam Wright is a songwriter’s songwriter. An artist’s songwriter. A poet whose medium is best set to music. And not just any music, but the absolute highest echelons of bluegrass and country – radio, real, outlaw, Americana, and everything in between and beside. He writes daily from an office nestled between Music Square East and Music Square West in Nashville – the fabled Music Row.

His songs have been cut by stars like Alan Jackson, Lee Ann Womack, Garth Brooks, Trisha Yearwood, Brandy Clark, and Robert Earl Keen. In bluegrass, bands like Balsam Range and Lonesome River Band have carried his originals high up the charts, and he’s co-written with many players in the genre, like Sierra Hull, for example. His songwriting and its distinct, intentional, and artistic voice has gained him award nominations from the GRAMMYs, the Americana Honors & Awards, and the IBMA Bluegrass Music Awards.

Since early February of this year, Wright has been leaving a trail of musical breadcrumbs online and on streaming platforms, teasing out his brand new album, Nature of Necessity, in four parts, which he calls “sides.” Along with singles peppering the release cycle throughout the following months, the prior three sides of the project finally convene with the fourth today, September 25, as a coalesced and cohesive project of 18 songs. The novel delivery mechanism for Nature of Necessity feels like an extension of the intentionality Wright brings to each of these literary, textural, and fantastic songs. They each stand alone, certainly, but together they sing.

These are not Music Row fodder, or craven attempts at radio hits, or tracks churned out day-in-and-day-out for volume and viral potential. These are passion projects. Ideas and stories that stuck in Wright’s creative craw and demanded much more deliberate treatments. It’s not as though songs written with the bottom line in mind can’t be this successful as works of art – they often are. It’s just that it’s immediately tangible to the listener that these works by Adam Wright aren’t just some of his best, they were clearly written and produced without a single thought towards saleability. Rather, Wright and his creative partners – especially producer Frank Liddell – gave each of these songs the artistic treatment they deserved on their own merits as stories and tableaus, vignettes and pantomimes.

If you remember when Bob Dylan was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature in 2016, there was a whole lot of “discourse” on the internet as to the actual literary value of songs and lyrics. It’s a painfully on the nose, forest for the trees moment to even have to accept the premise of that debate in order to refute it. But with a writer like Adam Wright – ever so rare in country and roots music and becoming even more endangered still – it’s easy, direct, and demonstrable connecting the dots between literature and songwriting. Nature of Necessity being 18 compelling points on that trail. With this album, Wright should perhaps be offered a term as the poet laureate of Music Row. Let each of its four sides stand as a resumé.

I really love the sonics of the album, the production. I’m a bluegrass banjo player, so when I listen to records I want to hear the pick noise, I want to hear the room, I want to hear the distance between a singer’s lips and the microphone. I want it to sound like music and I want it to sound like a moment in time.

Granted, I listen to a lot of music that doesn’t check any of those boxes and I like it a lot for sure, but the first thing I noticed about this album was that it sounds not just live, but alive. Can you talk about that and can you talk about how you accomplished it? It feels like, having heard so much of Frank [Liddell’s] work as producer that he was probably a perfect partner to accomplish that production style, too.

Adam Wright: Yeah, he absolutely was. And we wanted the same thing. We wanted it to be live and to sound live. With all the flaws inherent in performance, like a full unedited, undoctored performance.

‘Cause I’m like you – I’m a pretty poor listener currently but I have, in my long life of listening, listened to an awful lot of music and studied a lot of it. I know when I’m listening to a song that was gridded and then a singer came in and sang very carefully and then they cut it up and got it right. Because I’ve made records like that, too.

You sound your best that way, you truly do. It is so flattering to have someone do that to you and then listen back and go, “Wow, I sound fantastic.” So what I’ve enjoyed, for some reason, [is] getting used to what I sound like, giving it my best effort on a play down all the way through, one whole take, and go, “That’s what I sound like.”

It’s like looking at yourself like in a hotel mirror. [They] are the worst mirrors in the world. Like you go in the bathroom in the hotel room and you look awful and can’t figure out why. Something about the lighting or the quality of the lighting or where they’re placed. Every time I’m in a hotel mirror, I’m just like, “What am I doing out in the world?”

It’s a little bit like that. You listen back to yourself, play this song, and you go, “Man… that is not perfect.” There are things I just really dislike about the way I sing certain things on this record, the way I played. I hear me failing the whole way through. ‘Cause we did track it live. Me and Matt Chamberlain and Glenn Worf tracked us a three-piece, me on acoustic and singing with bass and drums. The idea was just to keep all of that as it is, intact, which we did.

I told Glenn, I said, “You’re the lead instrument. No one’s coming to save us. If something has to happen, we just have to do it right now.” We recorded it with that philosophy. The meat of it is my playing and singing with Glenn and Matt and we didn’t fiddle with it. The caveat was, “Okay, we can add things, but this has to remain what it is.” Whatever we did has to be live as it happened.

We did it a bunch of times. We did every song like seven times. So if I didn’t get it, is it gonna get better? No. That’s how I sing that line, obviously. There was some freedom in that … I’ve just gotten to enjoy it.

These feel like songs for you and not songs to sell or to get cut or to pitch on Music Row. Like, they feel like songs that, as they came out of you, you may have been squirreling them away, caching them for yourself for the future. I wanted to see if that was true or if that resonated with you. To me, they’re poetic and they’re literary without being “pick me” or “try hard.” They’re really thoughtful. I love your lyricism because it’s not too esoteric. But, these traits aren’t exactly regarded as commercial. So how did this collection end up… collected?

That’s exactly how that went. And thank you for the kind words, too. I do write every day for a publisher. Usually that means co-writing. I co-write almost every day of the week. Whether I want to or not. I’m usually writing with younger artists that want a record deal or have a record deal and they have some ambitions about the commercial music industry – and for some reason they thought I could help them. [Laughs] As misguided as that is, that’s usually what our job is in that moment. I don’t think a lot about, “Hey kid, I got a hit for you.” My brain just doesn’t really work that way. I just try to write a really good song that I think is tailored towards that particular artist.

I do a lot of that, but I would never try to force one of these ideas like [that] are on this record on someone that is trying to do something like that. This is a different endeavor. I do categorize it differently. That co-writing with people for their records or for whatever they would like to do is almost like a day job. And these songs are my night job. So they are very different. It feels like a different writing brain altogether. The process of writing ’em is very different. It’s not two hours of looking at each other. Some took me weeks, just because I couldn’t unlock ’em, but I kept tinkering away. It’s a much different thing.

I want to find out the deepest realization of whatever the story was or the idea or the character that I decided the song was gonna be about. Just follow that rabbit through the woods as deep into it and as dark as it got, that’s what we were gonna do. It’s rewarding! It’s a lot of work and it takes a long time and I’m so busy at the moment. I don’t know if I could write some of those songs right now. If you told me to write a song that had a lot of Latin in it about watching the dawn, I’m not sure I could pull it off. [Laughs]

But you know how it is when you find these things. You get a hold of this little spark, you follow it, and then at some point it dims a little. Then you’re looking for another spark to light up. I’m currently between sparks – I’m writing every day, but I haven’t found a new thread that I just can’t wait to chase yet. But sometimes you get a little hint of it.

Let’s talk about some of the music. On “Dreamer and The Realist,” are you the dreamer? Are you the realist? Is it about you?

I never really decided if I contain enough pragmatism to be both a dreamer and a realist. Like in some ways I am. Like when my wife says, “Hey, we’re going to Disney World,” that’s what we’re doing. I would never decide to go to Disney World [on my own], because I don’t like fun. [Laughs] But once I know I’ve gotta go, then I can get pragmatic about it.

But aside from those types of things, I’m pie in the sky. If I could stare out a window 10 hours a day every day for the rest of my life and not starve to death, I would do it.

Thank you!

All I really want to do is walk around the world and roll around inside my own brain. That sounds fascinating to me forever, endlessly. And not because I have a fascinating brain, just because I think it’s fun to just go, “What if” and then, “What if” and then, “What if.”

I feel like this is a long way of trying to say, I feel like everyone is some combination of a dreamer and a realist. Or you couldn’t function. But certainly nobody’s all dreamer or all realist, I don’t think. I think we all compartmentalize our dreaming and our realism to certain areas of our life and hopefully we each find someone that compensates for, or augments, [ourselves] in ways. And that’s never perfect. There’s always like a dueling going on with all that stuff. But I love the push and pull of it; within myself and within a relationship. There’s music in all of that I’ll always find it very interesting. The song really is within the same person.

With “All the Texas,” which features Patty Griffin, one of the first things I thought when I heard it was of Lyle Lovett’s “That’s Right (You’re Not From Texas).” Plus, I was thinking about this moment in time with Texas and politics and the culture wars. Country music tends to feature this thinking like, “Everyone loves Texas and you should too!” “Don’t we all agree, Texas is great??” And then you look at what’s happening in Texas and you’re like, “Oh my gosh, Texas. What the hell?” I’ve had all the Texas…

Help us help you, please! Exactly.

Can you talk to me a little bit about that song? Because I have a feeling that there’s much more going on than just the way we’re all feeling about Texas these days.

It really was written before Texas got so Texas-y, recently. I don’t remember what year it was, but it was probably four or five years ago. Texas is always pretty Texas-y, but this was before it got super Texas-y. It was just about a night opening for Patty Griffin there at the Moody [Center] in Austin. It was just a whirlwind of a trip; flew in day of show, ran around Austin for half an afternoon, and then played a show.

She’s so supernatural. There’s just something like… sorcery around her. Anytime you’re around her, she doesn’t come off that way. She doesn’t walk around like talking wizard speak or anything; she’s just such a lovely, cute, normal, funny individual. But there’s still something that swirls around her that is just supernatural.

With all of that, I was like jotting things down, like the whole 24 hours that we were there. I just kept getting like little snatches of things and they all started to have this kind of mythical quality to ’em. Some of it’s literal, the Driskill and all of that stuff was true. But it turns into a sort of dream logic, mythical stuff – which is like watching [Patty] perform. It was an exercise in playing with almost like a journal entry of that experience and then distorting it with mythical language or symbolism.

I also love “Weeds” – and not just because Lee Ann [Womack] is on it. But also because I am obsessed with wildflowers, with native gardening, and habitat restoration. Something that struck me about that line, “Heaven is a meadow with no weeds” is perhaps heaven is a place where we finally understand that a “weed” is a social construct, right? A weed is a plant that we’ve decided is in a place where it shouldn’t be, but maybe we’re the ones where we shouldn’t be–

Yeah, that’s right.

Maybe we changed so much of the environment that we look out and we see a weed, but that plant has been here all along. And [the habitat is] probably supposed to be all weeds.

Exactly.

When I heard “Weeds” I also thought of Dolly’s song “Wildflowers” and the idea of, “What is the difference between a wildflower and a weed?” So, in my own mind, I heard that line as maybe you get to heaven and you realize all these weeds were wildflowers the whole time. Maybe I’m projecting. [Laughs]

I don’t know how the farmer’s perspective developed [on that song], I just don’t remember. And I’m not trying to put any sort of romanticism on it, it just didn’t come to me. I don’t remember what the jump was, but I remember why I started the song initially. I was at the library looking for something new to read and I came across this book, it was like a catalog of late-1800s farming equipment and the techniques and things. You could order out of these catalogs in like, 1870-whatever.

It also had articles about how to fix your wagon or what to do about this particular tractor part. How to deal with a stubborn mule or a pig that wouldn’t do what you wanted them to do. I thought it was fascinating, and the language of it – I love lingo so much. I love getting into some endeavor or line of work or character where there’s lots of language that I haven’t heard before. Like specialized language to a particular job or whatever. This book was full of it. I was just fascinated by all of it.

The whole thing about the last verse about the pig, all of that, it’s just outta the catalog. Those were all things [from the book]. Like, “Are you dealing with a hog who’s ill-formed? And unquiet in his mind? Here’s what you can do.” I found it all so interesting.

Then the middle verse about the tramp, to me he was dressed in soldiers’ clothes. I imagined he’d been shot and was laid over this farmer’s fence. It would have been just at the close of the Civil War era stuff. I wanted all of it to hang together, but with all of these strange things going on the overarching thing is this farmer going, “I can’t get rid of these weeds.” Why does he care? I don’t know. I just liked the guy [because] the thing that sort of kept him going was that his eternal reward might be a meadow without all of these weeds in it.

Your career has intersected with bluegrass and has been part of your career in so many ways. You’re a picker – which is one of the first things I noticed about this album, you guys tracking it live means we get to hear you pick the guitar. All these bluegrass folks have cut your songs, you’ve been nominated for an IBMA Award. What does the genre mean to you? And of course, the inseparable community that comes with it. How does that fit into the constellation of how you make music, songwrite, and be creative in general?

That’s interesting. I love the world of bluegrass. Maybe I’m just a little particular. Like, if you looked at all genres of music as slices of a pie, there’s really only a sliver that I really love. Out of any genre. Whether it be jazz or a big band or blues or bluegrass or classic country or rock, there’s really only a little bit of it that I really like and most of it, the rest of it I find I can leave alone. Not quite for me.

But I always said, good bluegrass might be the best music ever. Like, when it’s good and it’s right. I wish I had started trying to play that kind of music when I was younger. I got fascinated with it too late to physically do it at a level that I appreciate. I can distinguish the difference in the nuances of really great players, but I’m not able to do that. I don’t lose a lot of sleep over it, but I’ve probably got carpal tunnel trying to figure out Tony Rice licks a few times in my life. There’s so much of it that I really like and I love.

I’ve never really sat down to try to write bluegrass songs. I just write songs. Like you were talking about this interview going under the Good Country category, I’ve always sat somewhere in the mushy in-between of folk, singer-songwriter, bluegrass, and country. I’ve just always existed somewhere in the middle of all that stuff. Some of my favorite artists have done that, as well.

Some of my favorite bluegrass artists were folkier or bluesy-er. Del McCoury or Doc Watson. Tony Rice was such a genre evader. I always appreciated that about certain bluegrass artists. But writing-wise, I just always wrote songs. And because of the nature of what I’ve ingested, they lend themselves fairly well to more traditional bluegrass arrangements. They always play everything a lot faster than I think they’re going to. [Laughs]

Last night at the Bluebird [Cafe] I did my version of “Thunder and Lightning,” which is a moonshining song of mine that Lonesome River Band cut. I think I’m playing my version fast, like it feels fast to me. And then I hear them do it and it’s about twice as fast as I play mine. It sounds great when they do it, but if I try to play it that fast it sounds ridiculous.

I write some with Sierra Hull, she’s so much fun to write with. It’s funny, she hardly plays when we’re writing, which I had to get used to. ‘Cause the first time I wrote with her I was like, “Oh I can’t wait to just watch her play!” And I don’t even know if she touched the instrument a couple of times, just to check a chord. But I got to like her so much and enjoy writing with her that it didn’t matter. [Laughs] …

My dad was a piano player – and still is. His dad was a piano player, too. So I started on piano when I… I think I was like four. I was kinda tugging on their shirt going, “Hey, I wanna play piano!” And they’re like, “Yeah, okay. Sure.” But they did let me, I started, and I did like classical piano for years. Then I went to saxophone and then I heard a Chuck Berry record and I needed a guitar. Today. Right now. This afternoon.

I was talking to a friend of mine who is a bluegrasser, saying, “I just don’t know how you guys do it, the flatpicking. How are you doing this?” And he goes, “You remember when you were learning Rolling Stones songs on a Stratocaster when you were a teenager? Most of these guys were playing D28s with grown men at festivals then.” When they were that age, that’s what they were doing. Picking with grown men.

Who were having pissing contests with those children. [Laughs]

Yeah! Sorry kid, not today. [Laughs]

Photo Credit: Emily McMannis

Sierra Hull, Her Mandolin, and Her Band Blow Away NPR’s Tiny Desk

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

We know we aren’t the only ones addicted to NPR’s fabled Tiny Desk Concert series – especially with all of the excellent roots musicians, country artists, and bluegrassers they’ve had behind the desk lately. We’re obsessed with Gil & Dave’s recent appearance, Sierra Ferrell’s turn from about a year ago, Megan Moroney’s debut, Yasmin Williams wowing the NPR audience, and so many more.

Now, one of our longest-running and most beloved Friends & Neighbors has brought her band and her new album to NPR’s headquarters in Washington, D.C. for her very first Tiny Desk Concert. IBMA Award winner and GRAMMY nominee Sierra Hull – accompanied by her touring band of Erik Coveney (bass), Avery Merritt (fiddle), Mark Raudabaugh (drums), and Shaun Richardson (guitar) – performed four songs from her latest album, A Tip Toe High Wire, from behind the iconic desk.

“Well you guys, this is truly a ‘pinch me’ moment,” Hull exclaims while introducing her second song. “I can’t believe we’re at Tiny Desk!” And that grateful, excited energy remained front and center through the group’s beautiful mini set.

From the grooving “Boom,” to the burnin’ and acrobatic instrumental “Lord, That’s A Long Way,” to the homage to her grandmother, “Spitfire,” to the wise and poetic “Muddy Waters,” the Americana, newgrass, and jamgrass textures of the studio recordings are present, but somewhat subdued in the acoustic, pared down Tiny Desk environment. This is the exact band and these are the exact arrangements you’ll hear at a Sierra Hull headline show or on the album itself, but this setting more immediately demonstrates how her bluegrass and string band upbringing in rural Tennessee is a foundation for everything she makes. Hull is always innovative and cutting edge, yes, but she accomplishes this not by forsaking bluegrass but by bringing it with her wherever she goes, from tours with Cory Wong or Béla Fleck to NPR Music.

Another stellar Tiny Desk Concert by another incredible bluegrass, string band, and Americana musician. If you haven’t yet enjoyed Sierra Hull’s Tiny Desk appearance, watch now above.

Read our recent Cover Story interview with Hull all about A Tip Toe High Wire here.

An AKUS Primer: Alison Krauss and (Mostly) Union Station for Beginners

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

While you know better, there’s a wide swath of the music-listening world in which Alison Krauss is best known as former Led Zeppelin golden god Robert Plant’s duet partner. Yet, Krauss has had a wholly remarkable career going back nearly 40 years, in which she has exhibited profound collaborative instincts and abilities.

On the occasion of the release of Arcadia, her first album with Union Station in 14 years (as well as a reunion with the founders of her former longtime label, Rounder Records), we look back at some of Krauss’ career highlights in and out of Union Station.

“Cluck Old Hen” (traditional; 1992-2007)

We begin with a literal oldie, “Cluck Old Hen,” from the pre-bluegrass era, which demonstrates two things – that Alison Krauss has always revered the history, roots, and traditions of bluegrass; and that Union Station is one incredible ensemble. Recordings of this Appalachian fiddle tune go back more than a century, to country music forefather Fiddlin’ John Carson in the 1920s.

Krauss first released an instrumental version of the tune on 1992’s Everytime You Say Goodbye (her second LP with Union Station), and won a GRAMMY with the onstage version on 2002’s AKUS album, Live. But feast your ears and eyes on this 2007 performance at the Grand Ole Opry, with a pre-teen Sierra Hull sitting in.

1992 studio version: 

2002 live version:

“When You Say Nothing At All” (Paul Overstreet & Don Schlitz; 1994)

After a decade of steadily accelerating momentum, Krauss had her big commercial breakout with this AKUS cover of the late Keith Whitley’s 1988 country chart-topper. Krauss sang it on 1994’s Keith Whitley: A Tribute Album and it served as centerpiece of her own 1995 album, Now That I’ve Found You: A Collection. It reached No. 3 on the country singles chart and went on to win the Country Music Association’s single of the year plus a GRAMMY Award. You can hear why.

Whitley’s version:

“I Can Let Go Now” (Michael McDonald; 1997)

For any interpretive singer, the choice of material is key. And if the singer in question has Krauss’ range and chops and vision, some truly unlikely alchemy is possible. Among the best examples from the AKUS repertoire is “I Can Let Go Now,” a deep cut on Doobie Brothers frontman Michael McDonald’s 1982 solo album, If That’s What It Takes. Another amazing Krauss vocal in a career full of them.

McDonald’s version:

“Man of Constant Sorrow” (traditional; 2000-2002)

Before O Brother, Where Art Thou?, you wouldn’t have called singer-guitarist Dan Tyminski the unheralded “secret weapon” of AKUS. Nevertheless, he didn’t become a star in his own right until serving as movie star George Clooney’s singing voice in the Coen Brothers loopy, Odyssey-inspired farce. “Man of Constant Sorrow” was the hit in the movie and also on the radio, launching Tyminski to solo stardom.

Resonator guitarist Jerry Douglas especially shines on this version from 2002’s Live, recorded in Louisville – you can just tell everyone in the crowd was waiting for the “I bid farewell to old Kentucky” line so they could go nuts. Tyminski would have another unlikely hit in 2013, singing on Swedish deejay Avicii’s “Hey Brother.”

O Brother version:

“New Favorite” (Gillian Welch & David Rawlings; 2001)

Kraus sang on the GRAMMY-winning O Brother soundtrack, too, alongside Gillian Welch. It will come as no surprise that the Welch/Rawlings catalog has been a recurrent favorite song source for her. One of Krauss’ best Welch/Rawlings selections is “New Favorite,” title track of the thrice-GRAMMY-winning 2001 AKUS album. Though it’s edited out in this video, the album-closing version concluded with a rare in-the-studio instrumental flub, followed by sheepish laughter to end the record. Perhaps the AKUS crew is human after all?

“Borderline” (Sidney & Suzanne Cox; 2004)

The story goes that the first time Krauss was on the summer touring circuit, she’d go around knocking on camper doors at bluegrass festivals to ask whoever answered, “Are you the Cox Family?” Once she found them, she didn’t let go, and the Coxes became some of the best of her collaborators and song providers. Along with producing their albums, Krauss covered Cox compositions frequently; “Borderline” appeared on 2004’s Lonely Runs Both Ways, another triple GRAMMY winner.

“Big Log” (Robert Plant, Robbie Blunt, Jezz Woodroffe; 2004)

When Krauss first sang with Robert Plant at a Leadbelly tribute concert in November 2004, it seemed like the unlikeliest of pairings. But here’s proof that they had more in common than you’d expect, with Krauss covering a solo Plant hit from 1983. She sang “Big Log” on her brother Victor Krauss’ album, Far From Enough, which was released earlier in 2004.

This video pairs the Krauss siblings’ version with Plant’s original 1983 video, directed by Storm Thorgerson.

“Dimming of the Day” (Richard & Linda Thompson; 2011)

Fairport Convention guitarist Richard Thompson is one of the finest instrumentalists of his generation as well as a brilliant songwriter, especially with his former wife and collaborator Linda Thompson. This stately, bittersweet love song dates back to their 1975 duo LP, Pour Down Like Silver, and Linda sets the bar high with a stoic yet emotional vocal. Krauss more than lives up to it on the 2011 AKUS album Paper Airplane, which also offers another great showcase for resonator guitarist Douglas.

Richard & Linda’s version: 

“Your Long Journey” (Doc & Rosa Lee Watson; 2007)

Krauss isn’t just a spectacular lead vocalist, but also an amazing harmony singer, one of the few who can hold a candle to Emmylou Harris. Retitled from the Doc/Rosa Lee Watson original, “Your Lone Journey,” this closing track to 2007’s grand-slam GRAMMY winner Raising Sand has Krauss’ most emotional vocal harmonies with Plant on either of their two albums together.

Doc Watson’s version:

“Heaven’s Bright Shore” (A. Kennedy; 1989, 2015)

All that, and she’s an incredible backup vocalist to boot. “Heaven’s Bright Shore” is a gospel song Krauss first recorded as a teenager on 1989’s Two Highways, her first album billed as Alison Krauss & Union Station (and also her first to receive a GRAMMY nomination). It’s great, but an even better version is this 2015 recording in which she’s backing up bluegrass patriarch Ralph Stanley alongside Judy Marshall.

AKUS version: 

“The Captain’s Daughter” (Johnny Cash & Robert Lee Castleman; 2018)

The late great Johnny Cash left behind a lot of writings after he died in 2003, some of which were turned into songs for the 2018 tribute album, Forever Words: The Music. None of his songs ever had it so good as “The Captain’s Daughter.” This superlative AKUS version fits Cash’s words like a glove.

Continue exploring our Artist of the Month coverage of Alison Krauss & Union Station here.

Alison Krauss & Union Station figure prominently in David Menconi’s book, Oh, Didn’t They Ramble: Rounder Records and the Transformation of American Roots Music, published in 2023 by University of North Carolina Press and featuring a foreword by Robert Plant.

Photo Credit: Randee St. Nicholas

Sierra Hull & Billy Strings Do Traditional Bluegrass Justice with a Duet on Austin City Limits

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Last week, Austin City Limits released an excellent bluegrass performance from their Austin City Limits Celebrates 50 Years broadcast, which debuted on April 4 on PBS. Mandolinist Sierra Hull and guitar phenom Billy Strings appeared on the special ACL show, performing a classic bluegrass number, “Midnight on the Stormy Deep,” a traditional song that entered the bluegrass canon via Bill Monroe himself. (Watch above.) It’s a popular duet, whether at jam sessions or on stage, and in this iteration finds the forward-thinking pair of Hull and Strings employing more retro sounds. Both are adept at these tones and textures, but tend to opt for more envelope-pushing picking on their own songs and creations. It’s lovely to hear both players in a bit more reserved a setting, with moments of star power shining through their tasteful playing and careful listening.

It’s striking how crisp, clean, and precise Hull and Strings render the song, but the grit and gristle that we tend to associate with bluegrass – and that “high lonesome sound” – are evident, certainly not in short supply. Hull’s solos are playful with zany touches and bluesy licks. Strings holds down the resonant lead vocal part while Hull adds the high harmony, both singing the lyric entirely in duet, because that’s how it goes! Strings pulls hard through his own solo with his signature confidence and boldness, while reminding his listeners how pivotal an influence Doc Watson has been across his career.

Hull and Strings are no strangers to collaborating, and in many contexts. Remember that time they covered Post Malone together? And well before Postie’s country foray and Strings’ track features on it. Hull has been known to guest on Strings’ shows, and vice versa. Their backstage cover of “What Does the Deep Sea Say” taped at the Ryman Auditorium has hundreds of thousands of views; “Midnight on the Stormy Deep,” meanwhile, has amassed nearly 200,000 views since it landed on YouTube late last week. Plus, Strings fans will recognize the track, not only from the bluegrass songbook, as it were, but from Strings’ own discography as well. He dueted with bluegrass legend and Hall of Famer Del McCoury on a version of the number a few years back. We never tire of it.

Whatever the many factors that led to Hull and Strings picking “Midnight on the Stormy Deep” together on ACL, they all add up to a live performance that’s easy, confident, and fun, and ultimately speaks to the deep and wide roster of young and younger bluegrass professionals who are keeping this music alive and in the limelight. For the coming generations and as-yet uninitiated new bluegrass fans, too.

Read our recent Cover Story interview with Sierra Hull on her brand new album here.

Read our recent exclusive interview with Billy Strings here.

With Each and Every Album, Extraordinary Mandolinist Sierra Hull Finds Herself

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

The traditional path of a musician’s career would say that gaining a record label’s approval reflects a certain level of accomplishment and stature. That’s a good thing, right? It can be, but what makes for the right fit to a musician’s career – whether with a label or as an independent artist – largely depends on how a person wants to navigate the ebbs and flows that come with making music for a living.

Enter Sierra Hull.

Just over five years removed from her fourth full-length album, 25 Trips, the aforementioned fork in the road is exactly the juncture at which Hull recently found herself. Now bearing her fifth full-length album, A Tip Toe High Wire, the Nashville-based mandolinist and songwriter decided that the extra work of an independent release didn’t scare her.

In fact, Hull is someone who keeps busy – “I’m not good with time off,” she says – and A Tip Toe High Wire may turn out to be her most true-to-form album to date. From her collaborators – Béla Fleck, Tim O’Brien, Aoife O’Donovan, Lindsay Lou, Ronnie Bowman, Justin Moses, Ethan Jodziewicz, Geoff Saunders and more – to her co-writers, to production, arrangements, and underlying theme, every aspect of the record evokes Hull’s concentrated instincts as a musician, composer, and experienced public artist.

These songs let the rest of us know just a little more about the “who,” “how,” and “why” behind the music and how it fits into Hull’s life and of the lives of those she holds dear. It’s a multifaceted expression of individualism and independence while also being nowhere near a display of isolated work – truly a balancing act of coexisting contrasts.

BGS spoke with Sierra Hull by phone ahead of a packed tour, about the significance of going independent, embracing new ways of songwriting, how her perspective of making music has changed, and more.

How would you describe where you were creatively, between the release of 25 Trips and leading into this new independent recording?

Sierra Hull: Part of it is that I didn’t really have the opportunity to go out and tour 25 Trips. When things were starting to open up [after the pandemic shutdown], I put together this band that I’m touring with and was able to think about what I wanted the music to feel like on the heels of [COVID]. I tried to think about songs that would would feel fun to stand on a stage and perform, you know? And I think some of the context of moving into [A Tip Toe High Wire] was thinking about that.

[25 Trips] was also my last record as part of my Rounder Records contract. A Tip Toe High Wire just felt like this new chapter. And having fresh songs that I had started to write, having been inspired by the time off the road to write music, I kind of leaned into that. I was loving playing with this band and I felt like I had the freedom to not necessarily have outside chatter in my ear about what the next thing needed to be. It felt like an opportunity to just make music that I felt excited by and capture it. At first I wasn’t sure if it was going to become a record, or a single, or what it might be. But the further we got into it, I would just continue to book sessions that we could get in the studio and record in between all the touring.

I feel like [being independent] gives me more of an opportunity to have a direct offering and connection to my fans in a way that maybe I couldn’t have in another scenario, and it feels really important for me to have that in this moment.

How has your perspective of the music and album making process changed? What kind of goals did you set for yourself in this new career chapter?

I don’t know if my goals felt different, because the goal for me has never been to try to chase a particular thing or to please a certain kind of entity. But at the same time, when you’re independent, you get to call all the shots, you know? You decide when you’re recording, how you’re recording, when the music gets released, how it gets released, all that kind of stuff. It’s kind of like a difference of me deciding what’s on the puzzle pieces and then figuring out how to put the puzzle together, rather than just somebody handing you a puzzle and the picture is there already.

I often say, “If I was only making music for me, I could do that anytime I want.” I can sit at home in a room by myself and enjoy music that way. But I think that we as artists and performers, we create and we make stuff because we want to be able to share with people. We want to be able to share a common emotional experience with people. It’s the struggle between trusting yourself, and being vulnerable enough to receive the good things and knowledge that other people around me have to offer.

In deciding, “I’m going to do what I want to do,” it almost prompts the question, “Wouldn’t she have that figured out already?” It’s a nice reminder that there’s no timeline to connecting with self-discovery.

It’s funny, because I feel like it’s one of those things with every album I’ve made. [People say,] “She’s finally coming into her own” – it’s like that every chapter! But the truth is, that’s the human story at any level. You can be coming into your own your entire life. you know? It looks different at 16, and it looks different at 20, it looks different at 25, and it looks different now in my 30s.

There is a certain amount of weird calm that I feel about more things in my life and I think part of that is when you work hard throughout your 20s and there’s such a grind taking place. For me, I love the grind. I live for the work part of all this. Like I said, I’m not really good at just sitting around doing nothing so I’d rather be working than not. But at the same time, I need to not clench my hands too tightly around the thing that is my art and my career. So much of this is out of my control. People will like it or they they won’t and it’s about trying to find some peace and asking myself, “Do I feel like I’ve done my best?” And how much that really matters, instead of being as validated by the praise one receives. We all long for that – I’d be lying if I said I didn’t, too. But I think there’s just a little bit less worry about that. It kind of feels like age gives you that.

What about your songwriting approach did you change for A Tip Toe High Wire?

I think songwriting is always such a journey. This was the first record that has been primarily made up of my touring band. Some of the songs were written and then performed live before we even recorded them in the studio – not all of them – but a good chunk of them have been road-tested, which is an interesting way of [developing a song]. “Lord, That’s a Long Way,” I wrote that tune because I literally was imagining in my mind the way it would feel to play this live with this band. It’s a different kind of approach when you’re thinking that way. I imagine one instrument kicking it off and then another one joining in on that same riff and kind of building the opening. In this way, sometimes you can almost hear it and feel it in a live experience before you’re even finished writing a song.

“Muddy Water” is a beautiful song with an equally beautiful sentiment about staying true to oneself. How does this mentality applies to your experience as an artist?

I think part of it is about trying to not become jaded by [the life of a musician]. If you’re doing something over and over and it kind of becomes your world, it’s easy to get burned out. I’m always trying to make sure that I don’t get burned out and am finding ways to be inspired. So much of that is about keeping a positive mindset and trying to keep an open mindset to the inspiration around us. The other thing that I’ll say is, I’ve gotten to do so much collaborating over the last few years. That’s been a big part of my musical world and I feel like it’s been really broad-reaching too, in ways that I’m inspired.

Stepping out on tour with Cory Wong – that’s a fun time. It’s way different than what I do, but it’s a fun time. Going to make music with Béla Fleck – that’s about really getting in the weeds and rehearsing and working hard on incredibly complex instrumental music. Getting to go join Sturgill Simpson on something, it’s about not over-rehearsing the songs and making sure there’s something about the freshness of maybe one or two takes in the recording studio. That’s why I love collaboration. Being part of something that’s not yours, but you’re kind of part of it so you’re getting to learn and grow and experience and have that excitement rub off on you.

Several of the songs on A Tip Toe High Wire – “Red Bird,” “Haven Hill,” “Spitfire,” “Lord, That’s a Long Way” – nod to the matriarchs of your family. How would you describe where and how music fit into their lives and shaped each of their relationships with you and how you remember them?

Music was part of everyday life. My whole family is very much rooted in the backwoods of Appalachia, the boonies of Tennessee, as far back as I know. Not a lot of money, no college degrees, but such smart, strong characters and people with a wealth of knowledge and grit and toughness and all that. I think music was a way that they were able to cope and have it be part of their way to pass the time. More a way of life than trying to dream of being a performer.

I remember my Granny singing when I was a kid, hearing her sing in church, and I know [my husband Justin Moses’s] family background was much the same. So certainly a different kind of musical experience. But music has always been a big part of both my family story and Justin’s family story. And I was lucky enough to get to know all of his grandparents – he’s since lost three of them – but I was lucky to get to know them and my grandparents too. Not everybody gets that. So I feel super lucky. And yeah, I think inevitably those stories kind of wind up weaving their way into my songwriting.

How do you balance so many different but interconnected objectives – especially finding space to let out parts of yourself through your music?

I’ve been able to say yes to a lot of things, because [I’ve chosen] to say no to some other things and that feels rewarding because normally I’d be stressing out. So trying to think ahead and find the balance as a human, asking, “How can I be focused in the moment, not stack too many things on top of each other, and instead carve out the balance where I do have time to write, I do have time to record, and I do have time to tour?” Because I love all those things. In a perfect world, you make them exist in a cohesive way and that can inform what the art becomes on the other side of it, because I’ve given myself space to enjoy all these things in their own way, instead of just the constant chaos of trying to do five things at once.

Photo Credit: Bethany Brook Showalter & Spencer Showalter

Basic Folk: Sierra Hull

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

(Editor’s Note: The entire BGS team would like to congratulate Basic Folk on 300 amazing episodes of the podcast! Celebrate #300, featuring GRAMMY nominee Sierra Hull as our guest, with us below.)

When mandolinist Sierra Hull was little, her dad told her she was really good “for a 10-year-old.” The older Hull knew Sierra had a fiery passion for the instrument and he knew exactly how to motivate his daughter. He went on to say that if she wanted to go to jams and porch-play for the rest of her life, she’d learned enough. He gave her realistic advice, saying if she wanted to dedicate her life to music, she would have to work really hard. Because “that 10-year-old cute thing is gonna wear off.” Sierra, who would draw pictures of herself playing at the Grand Ole Opry with Alison Krauss and doodle album covers with the Rounder Records logo, took his advice to heart and got to work.

LISTEN: APPLE • SPOTIFY • AMAZON • MP3

Since then, Hull has shared the stage with more heroes than one could count. She’s inspired a new generation of younger players, she’s released five albums, and she’s considered a master of the mandolin. Her new album, A Tip Toe High Wire, is set for release March 7. In our Basic Folk conversation Sierra reflects on how growing up in the small town of Byrdstown, Tennessee, shaped her musical identity alongside bluegrass, gospel, and family traditions. She shares memories of family gatherings filled with music featuring Aunt Betty and Uncle Junior, the profound influence of church hymns, and how these experiences continue to resonate in her playing and songwriting.

Sierra also discusses the significance of A Tip Toe High Wire, her first independent release, highlighting the freedom and growth that come with that independence. She emphasizes the importance of authenticity in her music, allowing herself to explore new sounds while remaining grounded in her bluegrass roots. Elsewhere in the episode, she opens up about her personal growth, the pressures of being labeled a child prodigy, and her journey toward embracing imperfection in her art. We also dive into what we’ll call her “Stevie Nicks Era” with the amazing cover art on the new record. Sierra enjoys playing with elaborate styles in her album artwork and red carpet looks (helloooo CMA Awards). With a candid perspective on the challenges of the music industry, she encourages listeners to find joy in the process while appreciating the beauty of vulnerability.

Photo Credit: Bethany Brook Showalter & Spencer Showalter

A Women’s Lib Boat: John Hartford Fiddle Tune Project’s ‘Julia Belle’ Embarks

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

A quarter century removed from his passing, John Hartford’s music and overarching legacy may have a stronger hold on bluegrass and American roots music than ever before.

From modern-day stars like Billy Strings and Sam Bush playing his songs in front of thousands each night, to popping up in books, old-time jams, workshops, films, and other functions, Hartford’s songs are officially a part of the Americana zeitgeist.

This trend continues on Julia Belle: The John Hartford Fiddle Tune Project Volume 2. Released February 28, the follow-up to 2020’s inaugural installment of the Fiddle Tune Project features another 17 songs from the always grinnin’, GRAMMY award-winning, steamboat-loving singer – this time performed entirely by women. Nearly 50 artists, musicians, and singers feature throughout, ranging from Rachel Baiman, Phoebe Hunt, Ginger Boatwright, Brittany Haas, and Deanie Richardson, to Allison de Groot, Della Mae, The Price Sisters, Uncle Earl, Kathy Mattea, Alison Brown, and Sierra Hull.

According to Julia Belle co-producer Megan Lynch Chowning (who was joined in that role by Sharon Gilchrist and Katie Harford Hogue, John’s daughter), once the decision was made to move forward with an all-women cast it came time to narrow down who to include on it–something that was as much of a dilemma as it was “an incredibly cool revelation.”

“We decided about halfway through to just make it a reality rather than a selling point,” she jokes. “It’s in the same spirit of whenever you open up a record from the Bluegrass Album Band, nobody says, ‘Wow, what a great all-male band that is!'”

Ahead of Julia Belle‘s release, Harford Hogue, Lynch Chowning, and Gilchrist spoke with BGS about their involvement in the project, preserving John Hartford’s legacy, and favorite moments from recording.

(Editor’s Note: The following are three separate conversations combined into one and edited for brevity.)

Nearly 50 artists are involved in Julia Belle. How did you go about deciding who to include on the project and which songs they’d play on?

Sharon Gilchrist: It was really important for us to have a multi-generational presence on this record. One of Katie’s personal wishes for the album was that every artist on the record have some personal connection to Hartford. With it being an all-female record, I was also curious to find women who had actually worked with or had some kind of rapport with him. For example, Laurie Lewis, Kathy Kallick, and Suzy Thompson are all on “Champagne Blues” and were all peers of Hartford’s back in the day. Ginger Boatwright actually inspired the song that John wrote which she sings on, “Learning to Smile All Over Again.”

In addition to the sheer number of people involved, I love how you also really allowed them to lean into their own creative tendencies while at the same time staying true to the style and spirit of John Hartford.

Katie Harford Hogue: Since Volume I the whole premise of this album series has been to choose artists that play this vein of music or consider my dad a mentor or someone they look up to. We hand them the book [John Hartford’s Mammoth Collection of Fiddle Tunes] and tell them to choose the tunes that speak to you, then come to the studio and put them through your filter.

For me to tell an artist how to do art – why would I do that? The whole point of being an artist is that you’re putting yourself into it and are using your own expressions, your own metaphors, and your own way of relating to the music. So we wanted their expression in it and the really cool thing is that Dad comes through no matter what we do. His DNA is in these tunes and there’s no way to get them out, not that we would ever want to. Having people come in and just go for it was risky, but an incredibly fun way to make an album.

Megan Lynch Chowning: A lot of the tones, audio, and overall vibe check comes from Sharon, who has been a John Hartford fan her entire musical life and is somebody who is so incredibly in tune with the sounds and feel that comes from his songs. She worked tirelessly listening to everybody’s work before they came in to record to get an idea of what’s going to help each person be the best possible version of themselves while they’re here.

Then there’s the issue of none of these songs – at least the fiddle tunes – having any chords assigned to them. When John wrote them there were no chord progressions, so every artist had to write their own. That in itself was a big part of people getting to take each song in their own directions. It was amazing to watch over and over again, and Sharon handled it all like an absolute rock star.

While some people’s legacy fades over time, it seems like John Hartford’s only grows stronger. What are your thoughts on that and how this project aims to further propel that legacy forward?

KHH: I’ve heard it said before that the way he communicated wasn’t limited to a particular generation. I don’t know if it was the way he thought about things or if some of the ways he did things were more universal. … You can go back to the masters of music and art – da Vinci, Bach – and their methods of creativity are still very valid now, they simply don’t go out of style.

When you hone into the foundation of it the relevancy goes with it, because everyone’s just going back to what’s real, which is what I think my dad also did. He was very true to the way he made music and the way he thought. A lot of people trying to make a career might stop and think, “What does the public want?” or “What do the masses want and how can I provide for them?” There’s nothing wrong with that, but there is another way to do it, making the music you want to make and not worrying whether or not it’s commercially viable.

That being said, “Gentle On My Mind” [Hartford’s most successful song, written in 1966] was very helpful in allowing him to do that full-time. Most everyone else has to get a full-time job and do the music on the side to stay true to themselves, but he got the best of both worlds in that way. He was able to take the success of that song and then go do his art with his heart and soul in it. I mean, who else writes about steamboats? Who else would write about the things that he wrote about and try the things he did on stage or just go out on a limb? And it all worked! In a way, everything aligned for him. That’s why I think he continues to be so relevant – he took a big risk and it paid off.

MLC: In the very first meeting the three of us had to discuss Volume II, preserving and carrying on the Hartford legacy was the focus of what we were trying to accomplish. On any given day you’ve got Billy Strings and Sam Bush playing John Hartford songs in their live shows. The biggest takeaway I have from this whole thing is John Hartford’s unceasing dedication to learning. He started transcribing and learned to write standard notation after he was diagnosed with cancer and instead of saying, “Oh no, I’m sick and this is going to slow me down,” he took it as a sign to move forward and learn a bunch of new things. That’s what led to him becoming obsessed with the fiddle, traditional styles and all that. That to me is the whole message behind these albums, that there’s so much more to do and so much more to write, play and learn. That’s been the most inspiring thing about being a part of this project.

SG: He was both a student and innovator of traditional music who forged his way forward by not sounding anything like anybody else. John is one of the largest beacons shining the way forward on how you do that.

What were your favorite moments from recording these songs? I personally can’t get enough of “Spirit of the South.”

KHH: What was so fun for me about these sessions was that even in rehearsals everyone was shredding. Upon walking in the room you’re hit with this energy and you just want to jump in. It was so exciting talking with everyone and feeling their joy around each song. Then there were the stories from Ginger Boatwright and Kathy Chiavola – both good friends of my dad – and Alison Brown telling me about his influence over her on the banjo.

Not being a musician, that all fed me, because that was a part of my dad’s life that I wasn’t necessarily connected with very much when he was alive. But now I can hear his music and I can see what he was doing and it just has a whole different impact on me. I’ve now had my own kids, raised them, done some things, and can relate more to what he was doing, so every time someone comes back to the studio and records a song, tells a story or talks about his influence, it feel like there’s a drawing of Dad and everyone’s going in and adding details that I hadn’t known about before or that just flesh out the picture that little bit more.

MLC: One favorite was getting Katie’s mom and John’s first wife, Betty, to sing on “No End of Love,” which is a song that John wrote for her. She is an incredible musician who first met John when they were both up for a radio show slot in the St. Louis area. After they got married Betty put her singing career on hold to manage the family, so being able to get her in the studio to sing that song with Katie and her granddaughter Natalie [Hogue] on guitar and hearing her voice – which has been on hold for a long time as she lives other aspects of her life – gave me chills. To me, stuff like that is the essence of folk music and why we do what we do in terms of keeping these songs and traditions alive.

Megan, didn’t you play John’s Tambovsky & Krutz violin on “No End 0f Love”? What was that experience like?

MLC: I actually have John’s fiddle here at my house and play it in the John Hartford Fiddle Tune Project live show, so I’ve been handling it for a while now. Talk about chills – it’s the fiddle he used the last five or so years of his life. It was his main fiddle for the “Down From the Mountain” shows and The Speed of the Old Long Bow record. It’s actually the fiddle on the cover of that album. Katie called me last year out of the blue and said she was moving houses and had taken the fiddle from one closet to another before questioning why it was there in the first place and not in my hands being played at these shows.

To play it on [“No End of Love”] was funny, because it sounds a lot different than my fiddle even though both were set up by the same person. It always felt comfortable to play, but the first few months I had it it was kind of dead from sitting in a closet for two decades. Since I’ve been playing it regularly it’s really come to life. Just the metaphorical part of this fiddle coming to life at the same moment these tunes are being brought into the world is special. It’s how I believe everybody who has the opportunity to be involved in traditional music should be thinking about it. We should constantly be honoring the stuff that came before us while also bringing it into new spaces.

Katie, you mentioned not being too connected to your father’s music when he was still alive, but what do you remember most about those times?

KHH: People saw his stage persona when he was out, but even when he was home he was still playing. He didn’t go home and just say, “Oh, I’m tired of that.” He played some more. “Obsessive” is not too strong a word to use when it came to the way his brain worked about music or art. It would be Thanksgiving or Christmas and he’d be working out melodies in the living room with Benny Martin simply because they enjoyed it.

Later on, my wedding reception was held at my dad’s house and we had originally set up music on a sound system so as not to burden him, but he, my brother, and my uncle ended up all grabbing their instruments and playing as a trio for it. He wasn’t a musician because he was trying to be famous; he was a musician because he couldn’t not be one. As much as his right hand was a part of him, his fiddle and his banjo were a part of him too.

What has working on The John Hartford Fiddle Tune Project taught you about yourself?

MLC: These experiences have taught me that I’m capable at parts of this job that I previously shied away from. I grew up as a contest fiddler; that was my background. Because of that I was very good at learning specific arrangements of things and then executing them with precision. While that’s all great and fine – one: it’s not a very good living, and two: it’s not all that great for having a very broad musical vision or sense of yourself. That’s why I started playing bluegrass and working for country artists. My skills and musicianship both expanded, but working on these albums – both as a player on Volume I and as a producer/player on Volume II – I’ve learned much more about my internal ability to hear things I didn’t know that I could hear and to make decisions I didn’t know I could make.

It reminds me of this exercise that John Hartford used to do with people at his jams or in his band – called the “window exercise” – where everybody who’s playing has to do something different than everybody else and then has to change that thing every eight bars. If you’ve got five or six people sitting around in a circle, one person can be chopping, one person can be playing longbows, melody, harmony, shuffle pattern… but only for eight bars. It requires you to not only come up with new things, but also be aware of what everyone else is doing simultaneously.

It was a musical brain exercise he invented that we teach at our workshops and sometimes even at the live show. To me, working on these albums has been like a real-life window exercise. It feels like even from beyond the grave John Hartford is challenging me to go bigger, be more creative, and more aware all the time. He’s just expanded who I am as a musician and what I now know that I’m capable of that I didn’t know I was capable of before. It’s weird to be grateful to someone who’s been dead for 25 years, but that’s how I feel because I’m a different person and a different player than I was before I started this.

SG: It showed me the importance of being hands-off with other people’s musicianship and to give them every opportunity to bring as much of themselves to any project as possible. That’s when you’re going to get the best music out of somebody. This project was a lesson in learning to do that, but also knowing when to jump in and direct or provide guidance when necessary.

Katie did a great job of that as well. This whole project is her brainchild and was a huge undertaking and the coolest part is the way she’s doing it. She’s doing it just like her dad. He would be so honored and pleased to see her fostering that in his own tunes and giving others the opportunity to share in and carry on that tradition.

KHH: I was a stay-at-home mom when my kids were born and poured a lot into them growing up, but once my youngest got to high school I began backing off and looking to do some of the things I’d been putting off. Coincidentally, the fiddle tune project was coming to fruition around the same time.

It was like walking out on a limb – especially as an older woman – to go out and start on some of these things not having been in the industry or corporate world in quite a while, but I did it. I have learned so much about not just the music industry, but things like how to use computer software like Photoshop and Illustrator and doing video for social media. It’s a lot of fun and something I’m very proud to be able to say that I did. I want to encourage other women to do the same. Don’t worry about what other people are saying, what you’ve done before, how old you are or what stage of life you’re in – don’t let anyone devalue your experience. If you’ve got an idea, go do it!

 

BGS Wraps: It’s the Rootsiest Time of the Year

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Each year, the BGS Team likes to “wrap up” the year in music by featuring holiday, seasonal, and festive tunes and songs throughout the month of December. It’s a perfect way to generate holiday cheer while shining a light on some of the high quality new – and timeless! – seasonal music we’ve got playing on repeat each winter. And, it gives us the chance to infuse our veteran/stalwart holiday playlists with some new life, too.

This year, we’ll be sharing songs, albums, shows, and events each day for the first three weeks of December, a musical bridge to bring us to the peak holiday season, the end of one year, and the beginning of another. Check back each day as we add more selections to these weekly posts, highlighting roots music that will soundtrack our solstice, Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, and New Year.

What are you listening to this time of year? Let us know on social media! You can scroll to find our complete BGS Wraps playlist for 2024 below. Check out Week 1 of BGS Wraps here and Week 3 of BGS Wraps here.

Megan Moroney, “All I Want For Christmas Is a Cowboy”

Artist: Megan Moroney
Song: “All I Want for Christmas is a Cowboy”
Album: Blue Christmas …duh (EP)
Release Date: November 1, 2024

In Their Words: “Well since it comes out tonight, I guess now would be a good time to let y’all know I recorded a lil 3 song holiday EP that features 2 original songs & a cover of a classic. It’s called Blue Christmas …duh.

sleigh, I guess.” – Megan Moroney, via social media

From The Editor: “Megan Moroney was everywhere in 2024 – and we certainly didn’t mind! Three CMA Awards nominations, her sophomore album, Am I Okay?, reached No. 9 on Billboard‘s Hot 200 chart, she’s MusicRow‘s Breakout Artist of the Year, and so much more. Plus, she released this excellent holiday EP, Blue Christmas …duh, in November featuring two new originals and her rendition of the classic made popular by Elvis. We adore Moroney’s brand of high-end, sequin-studded, mainstream country. Catch her and her music on the Am I Okay? Tour in 2025!”

Spencer Hatcher & Aubrie Sellers, “Mr. and Mrs. Santa Claus”

Artist: Spencer Hatcher & Aubrie Sellers
Song: “Mr. and Mrs. Santa Claus”
Release Date: November 1, 2024

In Their Words: “‘Oh, yeah, you bet. Uh… ho ho ho and stuff’ 🎄 ‘Mr. and Mrs. Santa Claus’ is out now!!” – Spencer Hatcher & Aubrie Sellers, via social media

From The Editor: “Decked out in their holiday best and performing in front of a classic Airstream trailer, bluegrass influencer Spencer Hatcher and garage country artist Aubrie Sellers play the mother and father of Christmas for their new single, ‘Mr. and Mrs. Claus.’ Throwing it back to the ’70s in more ways than one, their rendition pays tribute to George and Tammy’s cut of the song released in 1973. It combines so many things we love about bluegrass, country, and roots music – from the steel guitar and tasty harmonies to the retro trimmings and honky-tonkin’ tempo. We’re even here for the iconic knotty pine wood paneling! Perfect for BGS Wraps.”

Sierra Hull, “The First Snowfall”

Artist: Sierra Hull
Song: “The First Snowfall”
Release Date: November 8, 2024

In Their Words: “‘The First Snowfall’ is the B side from my upcoming limited edition 7” vinyl release, Holiday Favorites V1  … Can anyone guess which classic artist I discovered this song from?” – Sierra Hull, via social media

From The Editor: “Every seasonal playlist deserves a selection of songs about the season, as well as the festive holidays we celebrate during it. So we were especially excited to hear impeccable mandolinist Sierra Hull’s rendition of this Bing Crosby classic, ‘The First Snowfall,’ when it dropped last month. With a newgrass groove that skips and hops along, Hull and her crack band bring a modern glitz to the number. Don’t miss the A side of her special holiday single release, too – it’s ‘Country Christmas’ pulled from the catalog of one of Hull’s heroes, Loretta Lynn. Bluegrass winter leads to bluegrass Christmas, and we wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Blind Boys of Alabama & Jay Buchanan, “I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day”

Artist: Blind Boys of Alabama & Jay Buchanan
Song: “I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day”
Release Date: November 29, 2024

In Their Words: “Get in the holiday & shopping spirit with ‘I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day.’ Produced and arranged by Hall & Oates Music Director Shane Theriot, we sing it alongside rocker Jay Buchanan of Rival Sons.” – Blind Boys of Alabama, via social media

From The Editor: “Every holiday needs soul. Who better to provide a bit of a Christmas slow burn – besides a yule log – than the Blind Boys of Alabama with Rival Sons’ Jay Buchanan? ‘I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day’ has limitless pocket and a funky, slow dance groove. A brand new addition to our Non-Crappy Christmas Songs playlist? Most certainly! This rockin’, soulful, Americana-steeped rendition of a holiday classic is just too good.”

William Prince, “The Sound of Christmas”

Artist: William Prince
Album: The Sound of Christmas (EP)
Release Date: October 18, 2024

In Their Words: “Produced by the wonderful Boy Golden, featuring the talents of Alyshia Grace, FONTINE, Cody Iwasiuk, John Baron, Stephen Arundell, Keiran Placatka, Matt Kelly, Kris Ulrich, Austin Parachoniak, Kaitlyn Raitz, Ben Plotnick, and with beautiful artwork from Roberta Landreth, these songs were a treat to put together for you and I hope you enjoy them as much as we enjoyed making them. … Happy early holidays, folks.” – William Prince, via social media

From The Editor: “Christmas arrived right on time – in mid-October – via this delicious three-song EP from First Nations country singer-songwriter William Prince. We’ve covered Prince quite a bit over the years, relishing the plains patina and down-to-earth quality of his albums and songs. The Sound of Christmas is a bit more polished, shiny, and draped in tinsel (especially the primed-for-Times-Square title track), but the other tracks on the project, ‘Silver Bells’ and ‘Don’t Go Leaving Me (It’s Christmas Eve),’ still display plenty of that signature grit and duality. Here’s a sound direct from (what we now call) rural Canada that’s also very much ready for the mainstream.

“Something else we love about The Sound of Christmas: Prince is selling 1000-piece jigsaw puzzles of the festive, holiday village cover artwork for the EP. Adding it to our holiday gift list now!”

‘Welcome to the Plains’ and to the Red Dirt Universe of Wyatt Flores

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Each year, the country music machine and its many fans and acolytes turn over, again and again and again, the quintessential question of “What is authenticity?” We’ve asked that very question quite a few times on Good Country over the last year ourselves, and we know as long as roots music and folk music are made, listeners will continue to ponder what is or isn’t “real,” “raw,” or… “authentic.”

Wyatt Flores has been chosen as authentic. Country Music has spoken, and this quickly skyrocketing young artist has been riding a wave lately surfed by folks like Sierra Ferrell, Tyler Childers, Colter Wall, and Zach Top. Like these real country “poster children,” Flores’ music is realistic and grounded. It isn’t idealized revisionism in outlaw trappings. His songs never attempt to sugarcoat or mythologize, paving over the complications of rural life, red dirt realness, or the gritty patina of a rural places – like his homeland of Oklahoma.

Flores’ new album, Welcome to the Plains, is decidedly and delightfully trad country with nearly universal critical and listener acclaim. He currently racks up 3.5 million streams a month on Spotify alone, bolstered by a series of incredibly popular and consistently viral singles and EPs leading up to this, his full-length debut. For so many writers, diehard fans, and critics, Flores has long been “one to watch,” but that visibility stretches further and wider, to listeners across the country and around the world from so many different backgrounds and starting points.

Part of the reason why such a young artist with a relatively nascent career could have already amassed such a coalition of followers is that realistic, unguarded, “I know who I am, even though I’m still figuring out where I’m going” approach. It’s evident in his artistry, his performing prowess, and his skill for songwriting – all of which are evidenced prominently across this album.

Welcome to the Plains is one of the most remarkable records of 2024; it continues a tone long set in Flores’ career and music, even before this current inflection point and its substantial momentum. Wyatt Flores is bound for longevity, for many more successes, for many more millions of plays, as long as he remains exactly who he is: Wyatt Flores.

Your music has such a strong sense of place, so I wanted to start by talking about Oklahoma and growing up there. You’re down to earth in the way that you talk about Oklahoma from the beginning of the album, from the first notes of the title track. You’re viewing it in a very realistic way, not just in an idealized way. Can you talk about how Oklahoma inspired the album and what “home” means to you?

Wyatt Flores: When you think about Oklahoma, you have to [barely] scratch the surface to know that the history behind it is pretty screwed up, how Oklahoma came about, and we’re not one of the best states, if that makes sense? We’re 49th in education. And we’ve got a lot of people from California moving there just because it’s cheaper and everything else, but to live in Oklahoma, you gotta bear through the weather.

Then also, every year is a coin toss if things are going to grow, right? This year’s been a struggle up until this past couple of weeks, [during] which we just got like a foot of rain. But yeah, it’s been one of the hardest places to really build. And the people are so damn nice in Oklahoma, but it’s a tough place to live. Most people don’t want it. But I love it. “Welcome to the Plains,” it’s trying to describe [Oklahoma] … in the verses I really wanted to try and find more of a nature side to it, and then by the chorus just really tell the truth about it.

It feels really authentic and grounded, but you can still hear that you love Oklahoma in it, too. I think that’s a really interesting combination. Country is really good at rural America propaganda – and I love rural America, so I’m for it, to a degree – but to me, your album doesn’t feel like it has to close an eye to the history of Oklahoma to love it.

Yeah, it was a fun journey to try. I was sitting there just trying not to write songs about the road, because that was the only thing that I was doing. I was like, “This is the only life I’m living.” And not many people know what it’s like to be on a bus or on tour – at that time we were still in the van. It was more so daydreaming about home, missing the place, and then just trying to find the memories to piece everything together.

And I had a lot of weird influences, like “Little Town,” I was really trying to find the same feeling as listening to “Pink Houses” by John Mellencamp. I don’t write too many happy songs, and I was not in a good headspace in that time period. For some reason, I guess I was just daydreaming of a better life, and I kept writing about home, but in a different format of not always missing it.

Another song that really captures this topic is “Stillwater.” I love that it has this sort of dark, contemplative tinge and it feels gritty. Could talk a little bit about writing “Stillwater” and about your relationship with “home” and the construction of “home”? That’s such a country tradition as well, not just talking about home and missing it, but understanding that home is a nebulous, intangible thing, even if it literally exists.

There’s a lot of bands that say they come from Stillwater, but they really just started in Stillwater and they came from a different area, since it is a college town. But I was born and raised there in Stillwater. All my life the college has been my backyard. When I wrote that song in the summer of ’22, I had my guitar player with me and my fiddle player’s husband and we sat down to write that. It was more so just trying to give people a different perspective on what it’s like to actually grow up in a college town, because it’s a vicious cycle of the same shit – like, no one else sees it, because they’re living inside of the four years of going [to college].

And me also being a college dropout, I never got to actually go to [Oklahoma State University]. I went to OSUIT in Okmulgee, Oklahoma. And that did not last long. [Laughs] But yeah, I was like, “No one’s ever actually talked shit on a hometown and actually put the name in it.” So I was just being ballsy with it. I had to change quite a few lyrics, because I kind of went a little too far. I probably would have pissed a lot of people off.

The song was intentional. I don’t know, [I wanted to] make people think differently. Because that is my home. A lot of times, you just see people take advantage of the town, and the town keeps growing. Every single time I come back home now, there’s another chicken place and another damn car wash. I was like, “How many do we need?” Good lord. I was really pissed off in the mindset of it. I’m glad that we captured it, because for a while, I was scared to release it just because I was like, “People are gonna think that I hate Stillwater.” But really, it’s still a love song towards it.

It feels like you’re loving Stillwater, you’re loving Oklahoma, but your love for it requires you to look at it through an accurate lens and not an idealized version of it.

And it’s a relationship. My relationship with that town has just been back and forth. You’ll have that resentment, and you’ll have that frustration with it, but you still love it. It’s crazy to think about it that way, through that lens, but that’s what it is.

You touched on your co-writing process and I was excited to see how forward your own writing and your own perspective is on this album. Can you describe your co-writing and collaboration process for these songs? I noticed, too, that Ketch Secor co-wrote the title track.

When I wrote with Ketch, that was super cool. ‘Cause I had just gotten done watching Killers of the Flower Moon. I was already so inspired by that and wanting to really speak some truth. But not just by absolutely laying into people on the bad shit that’s going on – you can’t force-feed people. When we sat down [to write, Ketch] said that he wanted to write shit about Oklahoma and I was like, “That works out great!” The song just came together and it was it’s one of the coolest things, because I didn’t know how to feel about it quite yet. I was like, “This has some good shit in there…” and then when we went to record it, I was like, “Here it is! This is the way it’s supposed to go.”

But with the writing of this entire album, I was scared shitless. I didn’t think I was good enough, and I didn’t think these songs were good enough for an album. I started overthinking the entire thing. People can get mad at me all they want for doing co-writes, but I’m still writing. It’s not like I just sit in there and wait for these people to write these songs for me. This is all me.

The other thing is, my music taste [has] so much variety that I think it’s only better if I sit down with other people that have other strengths, to get to where I want to go – into these different styles of songs. I don’t want to do the same song, different chords, you know what I’m saying? I wanted it to be so unique and to keep it the way that I’ve always done it, which is to have different styles of songs. For that, I feel like you have to have different songwriters come in and give you different pieces.

I also have to ask you about bluegrass. One of the first things that we shared on our site of yours was a Tyler Childers cover that you recorded with Sierra Hull at Red Rocks. Our audience loved it so much. I think part of why your music resonates across diehard country fans to indie fans to bluegrass fans is that you’re not just a performer and a songwriter, but you’re a picker, too. What is your relationship like with bluegrass music? Is it something that’s prominent in your listening and in your influence?

So, I will first and foremost say this: I am not that good of a picker. [Laughs]

That stuff, that is something that I love. That is a different art. That is so beautiful. But my love for it– everyone in Oklahoma started listening to Tyler Childers and that’s when he came around, I want to say in my high school days. That’s when everything took a shift. I was like, “I don’t know what this is…” because we all grew up listening to red dirt [country], which is what I am. But my influence has really changed. In the summer of ‘22, Laurel Cove Music Festival was the first time that I had seen Nicholas Jamerson, Charles Wesley Godwin, Sierra Ferrell, Cole Chaney. That changed everything for me. It changed the entire way that I looked at music, and from that point on I started listening to every single one of those artists. It just led to more.

I love bluegrass and I try to have a couple songs [in that style], but I can’t call myself bluegrass. As much as I love what they’re doing and I try, I have my influences, I’m still red dirt. The way that those artists do what they do, it’s because they are them. I have my influences, but I am still just me. So whatever comes out, it’s just me loving and respecting it. But I can’t fully call myself a bluegrass musician, because I’m not. I’m jealous of it though, I’ll tell you that much. I’m jealous, I wish!

The production style and the different aesthetics that you’re utilizing on the album feel like classic country and old country plus dashes of country & western. There are moments that are really rocking and there are moments that are really subdued. It’s also really modern and crisp. How much of that is coming from you or from the ensemble and how much is coming from your producer, Beau Bedford?

A lot of that was Beau. I learned so much from him. [Before,] I really didn’t ever get the experience of being in a studio with musicians that are just wizards. Beau really took care of me.

It was a challenge, because we recorded in three different places. We were in Nashville, in North Carolina, in LA, and then we finished in Nashville. We were scared that it wasn’t gonna flow together, being in these different studios and then also just having this [group] of songs. Luckily, it all came together and as different as they do sound, they still flow. That was all just luck. We’re all we’re all sitting there going, “Huh? Hope this goes right!” I had my doubts, too, and [Beau] goes, “Wyatt, everything’s gonna be all right, because you are the main character that runs through this entire thing.”

That’s the constant throughout the entire project. I’m just lucky that it worked. When you go from different styles of songs – red dirt, and then you got this beachy [thing], old-time. It’s just crazy how they all go along together. Then it goes into this weird psychedelic rock and “Falling Sideways.” It was a wild adventure, and I’m so grateful for it. I just can’t believe the way that it turned out.

I ask this last question often, especially with people like yourself who are so effortlessly traditional country. There are a lot of folks out there who are excited about you – and artists like Zach Top and Tyler Childers and Zach Bryan – because these listeners sense that there’s this “new movement” that’s going to save country music, that’s going to renew country. That country is going to be what it used to be before “murder on Music Row.”

I wondered what your thoughts and feelings are on that paradigm? Because I sense that you don’t care so much about what is or isn’t traditional or what is or isn’t “inside” country. Does country music need to be saved? Do you see yourself as part of that saviorship? Do you care?

There’s something to be said about it, because yeah– I have my opinions about commercial country. There’s some really good songs and then I also think there’s some songs that say absolutely nothing. I guess as a songwriter, my goal is to keep writing about real shit and keep expressing myself with vulnerability. And to still write good songs.

I have a very important person in my life who’s been a mentor to me; his name’s Shane Lamb. I used to talk about writing these super-poppy melodies. And he goes, “Yeah, it’s because it’s popular music. … Who are some of your favorite artists?” We started going through Tyler Childers, early on in the days of me being in Nashville. [Shane] was like, “Listen to the fucking melody, Wyatt. It’s a pop melody. It’s for popular music. That’s why it works. But his arrangement is country.”

And I was like, “Oh… when you think about it that way, yeah, I guess you’re right.” So, I do try to have poppy melodies as much as I can, but I still try and keep my verses very needy, if that makes sense. I like putting a whole bunch of detail and really trying to focus in on the verses and let the chorus speak for itself.

That’s so perfectly put; yes, country has always been popular music. It’s one of my favorite Tyler Mahan Coe quotes, the creator of Cocaine and Rhinestones, the podcast and the book. He talks regularly about how country music has always been popular music. That’s not to say that fact absolves Music Row and Music City from all the truck and beer songs, but it certainly helps remind us that hand-wringing over “Is country music going to be okay?!” is not something that’s ever going to go away, but it’s also not something we really need to worry about.

And I think for the first time ever with social media, people are able to find new music that’s always been there. They’re just now finding out about it for the first time, because the radio stations aren’t playing it. That’s its own deal. But now they’re able to find all this new music and I feel like country is still going to be country. Like you said, when it comes to beer and truck songs, I think the thing that’s missing is them not explaining what they love about it. They’re just talking about it, not being vulnerable with it.

I think about “Drive” by damn Alan Jackson, dude. That is just talking about driving. That’s really all it is, but the sentiment is there, because it has to do with the father and the son. And then, all of a sudden, there’s the father and the daughter – that is fucking awesome country music that I still absolutely love! I wish that I could do that, like that Zach Top thing. I told him that whenever I met him, I was like, “Dude, I wish I could do it.” I really do. ‘Cause he’s fucking killing it. There’s so many different styles of music and I’d rather just do what I want to do, which is all of them, rather than just settle for one sound.

Photo Credit: Natalie Rhea