(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.
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.
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: Thefollowingare 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 TheJohn 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!
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.
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.
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”
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”
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 quitea bitoverthe 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!”
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.
A big night for country music ended up being a big night for bluegrass as well when Sierra Hull, Molly Tuttle, and Bronwyn Keith-Hynes joined country star Dierks Bentley on the CMA Awards stage for a show-stopping performance. The quartet, backed by Bentley’s band (including the evening’s winner of Musician of the Year, Charlie Worsham) played a rousing rendition of Tom Petty’s “American Girl,” a huge single for Bentley this year from the compilation album, Petty Country.
Bentley has released plenty of ‘grassy and string band tracks across his career, especially on his 2010 album Up on the Ridge, and he is close friends with many bluegrass musicians and legends. He used to haunt the World Famous Station Inn in Nashville well before his fame and recognition – and well after, too. He’s even gifted commemorative hit records to the bar (which still hang on the walls today) and he’s appeared at the divey listening room dozens of times. He’s also a friend of the McCoury family and has collaborated with Del and sons on multiple occasions. In addition, he’s brought Tuttle and her band Golden Highway out on the road as an opening act repeatedly, and he guested on Keith-Hynes’ now GRAMMY-nominated album, I Built a World.
Tuttle even shared an image to social media from a past MerleFest where Bentley can be seen braving the North Carolina rain to catch her band’s mainstage set in the very front row of the VIP section. It’s no surprise that he would tap Hull, Tuttle, and Keith-Hynes for the CMA Awards, even if the context feels a bit out-of-left-field for diehard bluegrassers.
“American Girl” was truly a highlight of the star-studded awards show, which despite more than a few perceived flubs and snubs highlighted plenty of Good Country, Americana, roots music – and yes, bluegrass! Here’s to plenty more primetime television moments in the future highlighting incredible bluegrass pickers such as these.
“Bluegrass music is a truly American artform. It reflects the culture and the time in which it’s created, and as with many traditional artforms, a preservationist stance is held on a pedestal. Bluegrass music’s history is very gendered, and when this happens, the music can’t reach its full potential.”
My teacher Laura Orshaw told me this.
There has been no shortage of amazing women bluegrass musicians to come out of the roots department at Berklee College of Music. Gillian Welch, Sierra Hull, Molly Tuttle, Bronwyn Keith-Hynes, and on and on. I’m going into my senior year at Berklee this fall as a mandolin principle, and one of the reasons I went to Berklee was how inspired I was by these women and their music.
Towards the end of my sophomore year, my friend Katelynn Casper – a brilliant bluegrass fiddler – came up with an idea. She wanted to start a bluegrass ensemble of all women and non-binary folks. Katelynn approached Matt Glaser, the artistic director of the American Roots Music Program, about helping us create a class in which we would study and perform in a group. Excited by the prospect, he brought in Laura Orshaw (the Po’ Ramblin’ Boys) to be our mentor. In the past few years, there had been a strong influx of women who came to Berklee and wanted to play roots music, so it didn’t take us long to find people who wanted to join the project.
The ensemble started in October of 2023 with about 12 members, enough for us to break into two ensembles. I got to be in both groups, in one as mandolinist and the other as bassist. Our focus between both groups was to play music mostly written by women who we looked up to and were maybe overlooked.
Through the course of our year together, we moved through a catalog of songs and tunes written by our heroes and then delved into original material. We wrote songs and tunes together and on our own and fleshed them out as a band. It was an empowering experience to be a part of and it was beautiful to watch my friends explore a new kind of confidence in their music.
This past April, the American Roots Music Program sent all of us down to Washington, D.C. In June of 2022, the Smithsonian Center for Folklife and Cultural Heritage opened up an exhibit entitled Music HerStory: Women and Music of Social Change. Laura had caught wind of the exhibit and wanted us to visit, so we could witness its content and impact. The exhibit explored many women who were significantly overlooked in music, but yet the world would have been drastically different had their music not been a part of it.
We heard and read stories of when Loretta Lynn put out “The Pill” and how much of an uproar it caused; stories of how Elizabeth Cotten had to put her music on hold to raise her children and didn’t come back to it until she was in her 60s, putting out “Freight Train” and “Oh Babe It Ain’t No Lie” and still was not given much credit.
Walking through the exhibit, I couldn’t help but think about all the different musical influences I have and how so many of those influences were inspired by these women, but how that was never really talked about.
On the same trip, we also got the privilege of going to Smithsonian Folkways Recordings and learning about some of the history of their record label and how it came to be. When we were checking it out, both ensemble bands did a little recording in the archives to commemorate the trip. Playing our originals and covers written by powerful women was an incredible experience. We were surrounded by original recordings and records that made bluegrass and old-time what it is now and some of the music that brought each of us to the genres to begin with.
While we were down in D.C., we also got the chance to hang out with Kimber Ludiker (fiddle) and Avril Smith (guitar), two members of Della Mae. In both groups, the inspiration from Della Mae was so apparent – we all learned many of their songs. Getting to stand up and play their songs with them was a mind-blowing experience.
Taking part in this project has been such an inspiring experience. As a kid who grew up in the bluegrass and old-time world, there weren’t always a lot of women to play music with, so to get the opportunity to dedicate time each week to just sit down with a group of deeply passionate women and non-binary folks who are also such remarkable roots musicians was an indescribably moving experience.
A common conversation amongst us during that time was how freeing and comfortable it felt to play music in a setting like this. Whether or not you think about it, music as a whole is an intensely male dominated world – and bluegrass isn’t any different.
“Here’s a question that crossed our minds every week,” Laura said. “‘What would bluegrass be like without patriarchy or bias?’ The answer comes through music, not essays, and this project certainly chipped away at our goal.”
Being in this ensemble, I learned a lot about myself. Being surrounded by a community of women and non-binary folks playing music taught me a lot about my confidence as both a person and a musician. Being in that environment gave me an amazing place to explore.
“When Matt [Glaser] asked me to be the curator of this project, I couldn’t have guessed how impactful and enlightening it would be for me. Working in an all-women and non-binary band filled a void for all of us – creatively, academically, and socially,” Laura continued. “Students shared experiences of the not-so-glamorous parts of working in a male-dominated field. They studied the music and songs of their heroes, who sometimes got overlooked in other classes and ensembles. They wrote songs, arranged music, and tried on different leadership roles in the band.
“But most of all, they encouraged and inspired each other to be better musicians. The mutual dedication and enthusiasm were palpable in every rehearsal.”
It’s been an experience of a lifetime to learn the music I love with a group of women who want to push the boundaries of the genre. To sit with a group of people who understand the intricacies of being a woman or gender non-confirming person playing bluegrass – or even music in general – was a very comforting experience. We all grew so much as people and musicians.
Photos courtesy of Emma Turoff. Lead image: Ensemble, No Man’s Land. Inset image: Ensemble, Ain’t That Just Like A Man.
Early in my recent interview with Swamp Dogg, the iconoclastic singer-songwriter and producer makes a self-aware confession: “I have read columns about Swamp Dogg and so forth, and I try to find out what they classify me as,” referring to the veritable grab-bag of hyphenated micro genres that music writers use to classify him. We connected a few days out from the release of his latest album, Blackgrass: From West Virginia to 125th St, and the artist, born Jerry Williams Jr., seems unbothered. Later he adds, “When I do the Swamp Dogg albums, I really don’t try to please anybody but myself.”
He has known from the jump that the music industry doesn’t know what to do with him. Working as a singer and songwriter under the name Little Jerry Williams, Swamp enjoyed some success with his 1964 soul 7 inch, “I’m The Lover Man,” and was subsequently invited to perform at clubs in the Midwest. As Swamp remembers, “When I showed up they found out I was Black and the audience was lily white. They were good about it, they paid me and said I didn’t have to do a second show.” The small-mindedness of industry gatekeepers would follow him into his first musical steps as Swamp Dogg.
In 1971, Swamp released his second album, Rat On!, on Elektra Records. He was dropped from the label immediately after the release. At issue was the provocatively titled, “God Bless America For What,” track six on the album, which Elektra had pressured Swamp to leave on the cutting room floor. He kept the song, and his brief stint with Elektra was over. (The album cover, featuring Swamp in a victory pose astride an enormous white rat, might also have earned him some detractors in the office.) Asked if he considered caving to the label’s demands, he quickly sets me straight. “No! No. Nuh-uh. I’m dealing in truth!”
The controversy surrounding Rat On! did nothing to slow Swamp’s momentum as a creative force and in the years since its release, has proven itself a classic of left-of-center soul. He produced artists like Patti LaBelle, Z.Z. Hill, and Irma Thomas. Swamp also continued working in A&R. He signed a still-mostly-unknown John Prine to Atlantic Records in 1968, later reuniting with Prine for what would turn out to be the final recording made by the legendary storyteller. Swamp built a cult following among indie music fans in the know, collaborating with artist-tastemakers Justin Vernon and Jenny Lewis – the latter of whom returns as a guest on Blackgrass, as well. He dunked on the snobbier side of the mainstream with albums like Love, Loss, and Auto-Tune, and I Need A Job… So I Can Buy More Autotune.
A list of Swamp’s credits tells the story of one of the most fascinating music careers of the last century, but he himself tells an even deeper one. He speaks about painful failures, like when he became a millionaire in the 1970s and the sudden reality of wealth gutted his mental health. “The right word is obnoxious, I really became obnoxious, my wife pointed out to me. I was running so much that I would run in my sleep and run out of the bed.”
When the nine cars in the family garage proved insufficiently curative, she got him to see a therapist, a “who’s who psychiatrist” in Swamp’s words. He tells me so many sweet things about the great love of his life, Yvonne Williams. “My wife, she was a Leo. She was a strong Leo, she was a leader. Everybody loved her. Everybody feared her when it came to brain-to-brain. She could knock your shit right out the box. She was the reason I made a little money. Her name was Yvonne and I still think about her.” Subsequent girlfriends have told him he is still in mourning, and a second marriage was short-lived.
Discussing his musical roots, Swamp lists “blues, soul, R&B, pop, just about everything except classical and polka, and gotta add country there, cause country is what I was listening to growing up as a kid.”
His brand new record, Blackgrass, released May 31 on Oh Boy Records, is an inventive, often moving exploration of the genre. Sensitive instrumentation by Jerry Douglas, Sierra Hull, Chris Scruggs, and Noam Pikelny, among others, pairs beautifully with Swamp’s varied vocal performances across all 12 tracks. “The Other Woman,” featuring Margo Price, is an elegant update of the classic written by Swamp and first performed by Doris Duke. And Swamp himself is at home as a country vocalist, playing characters like the neighborhood ne’er-do-well on “Mess Under That Dress,” the lovelorn crooner on “Gotta Have My Baby Back,” and delivering a breathtaking country gospel performance on “This Is My Dream.”
Even as Blackgrass offers country music moments that should please even the most determined traditionalists, Swamp Dogg remains committed to surprising his listeners. “Rise Up,” for example, a Swamp original first recorded by the Commodores – “Atlantic didn’t know what to do with them!”– is reincarnated as a country-meets-alternative rock and roll foot stomper, with a guitar solo by Living Colour’s Vernon Reid, which readers should listen to in a safe and seated position.
One of the great rebellions of Blackgrass is the singer’s assumption, on an album that is being marketed to country and roots media, of a Black audience. He explains, “I’m calling it Blackgrass … mainly because of the banjo. When I was coming up the minute somebody said ‘country music’ or ‘banjo’ … we turned our nose up at it, way up until Charley Pride came along.”
As Black listeners, we are being made to understand that this record is for us, decades of deliberate exclusion from the genre be damned. Its creator is equanimous about how the art will be received. “If this one sells enough, there will be a next record. If it doesn’t, there will still be a next record. I’ll put it out myself.”
Fifty years since “I’m The Lover Man,” Swamp Dogg remains curious about, and frequently explodes, the boxes into which small-minded gatekeepers of popular music have attempted to place him. As he recalls some of the more colorful antagonists along his musical journey, Swamp is gracious in the knowledge that he has had the last laugh. He speaks with refreshing pettiness about his early critics, reasoning, “The people that I dealt with back in the day are either dead or don’t know who they are. And I know I’m in line for that, but I keep jumping out of line. When I see myself getting near the front of the line I jump out and go to the end of the line.”
As usual, Swamp Dogg plays in his own time. He has finally outlived the haters.
Last week, before the Turnpike Troubadours headlined the iconic Red Rocks Amphitheatre in Morrison, Colorado, two phenomenal young pickers also on the show bill stepped out into “the house” to perform Tyler Childers’ “Shake The Frost.”
Guitarist Wyatt Flores, a current nominee for the Americana Music Association’s Emerging Act of the Year, and Sierra Hull, Grammy-nominated mandolinist and songwriter, performed an intimate and tender rendition of the Childers hit flanked by the infamous red rock cliffs and backgrounded by the historic amphitheatre’s nearly 10,000 seats.
Flores and Hull demonstrate the timelessness with which Childers writes his songs and lyrics; in this simple, acoustic setting the track listens like an age-old folk song that’s been passed down generationally. With gentle unison vocals on the choruses and subtly interspersed licks and fills, the pair of virtuosos know that less can indeed be more. While they are each objectively shredders on their instruments, another common thread between them is their commitment to giving songs the treatment they deserve – rather than using each and every track they perform as a chance to show off their picking chops.
Hull has long been a technical – and artful – standard-bearer for her generation of bluegrass pickers, while Flores is enjoying something of a meteoric rise after having spent most of his young life touring and performing. Together, they represent the vibrant, genre-blending present and future of country, Americana, and bluegrass.
Bearing witness to friends and collaborators Aoife O’Donovan and Sara Watkins in conversation is reminiscent of listening to their frequent musical partnerships, like their trio I’m With Her (with Sarah Jarosz). In moments, they blend perfectly, finishing each other’s sentences. They dance around each other, giving space for thoughtful responses and further questions.
In an artful, deeply reverent, and candid conversation, they delved into the intricacies of creating O’Donovan’s new release, All My Friends. The project originated from a commission by the Orlando Philharmonic Orchestra in 2019 and blossomed into what O’Donovan refers to as a “song burst,” inspired by the life and work of American Suffragette, Carrie Chapman Catt, and the centennial of the 19th Amendment.
The project propelled O’Donovan into unfamiliar territory as a songwriter and what emerged is a beautiful elegy to the women of the past who fought for the right to vote. It’s an homage to women of today – and future generations.
BGS spoke via Zoom with Artist of the Month O’Donovan from her home in Orlando and with Watkins joining from her home in Los Angeles.
Aoife O’Donovan: Hey! How are you?
Sara Watkins: I’m good. How are you doing?
AO: I’m so good. I love that I’m having an official conversation with one of my best friends. It’s sort of weird.
SW: When they called me to ask if I would be interested in interviewing you, it was an hour after I had just sent you that raving text about how much I adore the album and the music. I’m so blown away by it.
AO: Oh, my gosh! You’re so sweet! I love you!
SW: I’m not sweet, and you know that.
AO: You are. You’re a nice person. You just sometimes don’t hug strangers. That’s like your only quirk.
SW: I’ve been listening to the record since you sent it to me. But this week, I’ve been getting to really dive in and have the fun of trying to get inside your head a little bit. From that opening line, from the opening gesture at the beginning of the album, it’s just this gorgeous way of encompassing the whole record so beautifully. But it’s also so open. It’s not a thesis statement, but it powerfully contains the whole album. And I just wonder, where did that particular thing come from? And when did you know that that was going to be the way to start?
AO: It’s funny, that opening phrase, just the idea of “All my friends, all my friends,” that idea came to me many years ago, like maybe in 2018. I just had the melody and the chords and I kind of sat with it. It never was anything except for that. When I started working on the idea of this record, when Orlando (Philharmonic Orchestra) asked me to write 5 songs to commemorate the centennial of the 19th Amendment, I didn’t even go back to that tiny phrase immediately. I started elsewhere.
I started to write this other music, and then I remember sitting at the piano, actually at Full Sail, in the studio that I worked at here and I remember those words, “All my friends,” that was all that it was. I started thinking about what that meant, as even just a very simple, very kind of trite, almost overused lyric. There are tons of songs called “All My Friends.” There are movies called All My Friends. There’s a book that I just read called All My Friends Are Going to Be Strangers. It’s not a very original 3-word statement. But there was something about those words together with those chords, that all of a sudden felt like they belonged in this project. This is about the women who were before and the women who are yet to be born. It felt like this big circle all of a sudden of humanity and womanhood.
SW: It’s powerful on its own and then also with the context of the movement. I don’t often think of movements like that with friends. We think about it for younger generations. Let’s change policies to help younger generations, or to help the American people, but to put the word “friends” on it just makes it so heartbreaking. I just get sisterhood through this whole record in the most powerful way.
In “Daughters,” I have these 2 different visions of what’s happening in that song. With the way the band and the orchestration wrap around your guitar playing – the band does such a great job. You’ve played with Griffin Goldsmith, and with Alan Hampton a ton. The trio entity is so complete and so complementary to the songs and then to add to it, the way that you have the orchestration coming into play and the choir in such supportive ways. I had two images. One was this vision of a battlefield. Like when we were in grade school, where we talked about Gettysburg, or these legendary Revolutionary War battle sites and you see that field where the people are, and then you see these flanks coming in from the sides. That’s how that song feels to me.
AO: That’s like exactly what I was imagining when I wrote it. I’m not joking; that exact image of just being on a battlefield. And then, like the other voices coming in, or like the other people coming in to sort of fill the ranks. That’s exactly what I was envisioning. That’s so funny.
SW: It’s incredible.
AO: I’m so glad that that came across.
SW: It does. And it’s a credit to the arrangement, where you have the choir come in and there’s this rumbling support, or this foundational support from the orchestration before. When that chorus comes in, it just feels like you’re surrounded by kinship or by the sisterhood of support. And then the next verse opens up, and you’re alone again, or like fairly alone and you have to carry this battle by yourself, for yourself. It’s an individual fight. But then, going back to that “all my friends” lyric, it just feels like all of those entities are your friends coming to support you in your time of need.
AO: Exactly. That’s it exactly it. I feel like for me, when I made this record, and even now getting ready to put it out, it’s so specific and it’s so deeply personal. And it’s so not a record of like, “Check out this jam!” It’s just not that kind of record at all. And it’s not meant to be. I’m so glad that you listened to it in this way. This is what my hope for this record is, that people will be able to have the time to sort of process what it is. And these images and that exact thing of going into a battlefield. But then, there are moments when everything is stripped back, and you are sort of alone. But you’re also singing for your friends and for your community and for your mothers and your grandmothers and their mothers and their grandmothers. But also for the daughters of the daughters of the daughters. It just feels like this circle keeps on going.
In that song, specifically having the girl’s chorus, and on the whole record it was such an important thing for me to have the voices of young women, and not necessarily harmony vocals by my peers. I just felt there was something about the innocence of this young voice. The experience of getting to do it live with the Brooklyn Youth Chorus, and in Massachusetts, and even getting to do it in Glasgow with the girls’ chorus, it’s really powerful. It’s hard not to cry, even as a performer. It’s something about seeing young girls up on a stage, ready to give something. It just feels deeply emotional.
SW: And they are giving to you and you are getting to experience that support literally. Being on stage can feel very alienating and very vulnerable. It is a little bit of a fight sometimes within yourself if nothing else.
I feel like this is just such a powerful statement: grappling with change and growth. And obviously, that’s something that needs to be continually grappled with. It’s not like, “Oh, the change happens, and now we’re done. Check it off the list.” It’s a continual engagement, and it’s hard.
With “America Come,” when you get to that point in the album, it feels like the industrial revolution to me.
AO: Yes. I love that.
SW: Especially because you’re singing the words, “manpower, womanpower.” I feel like the machine is running.
AO: Right. I feel like that song with the, “dun, dun, dun, dun, dun, dun,” it becomes very steady. It is like the machine is running. That’s one of the songs on the record that really is so much about Carrie Chapman Catt, the suffragist who I was inspired to write about and write from the perspective of. That song is really heavily lifted from an actual speech that she gave. Some of those phrases are verbatim from her speeches.
That idea of this question, “What is this democracy for which the world is battling?” I feel like that’s a question that we can still ask ourselves. What are we doing here? What does this mean? What is America? I feel like that’s just such a deep question, and to be asking that in 1919 or 1918, or whenever that speech was from, and then to still feel it in 2022 – when I was writing this, it felt so relevant I feel like it’s almost eerie. We can’t give up the fight. We can’t stop. You don’t just check something off the list. As you said, it just kind of keeps going.
SW: And in that way, the album encompasses all the humanity, the micro versions of this, where for instance, in the institution of marriage, or a long-term relationship, or friendships, family, or whatever, it is about checking in every so often: “Wait! Life is running away with us. What do we want? What do we want in choosing this city, this school, this town, this job, this house?”
And that happens on individual levels. Like in my own life, I think, “Have I gotten away from this thing that I cared about five years ago? Have I checked in about this?” I feel like with the content of this album, I found myself thinking about the country, and I found myself thinking about me. Especially, with the more introspective song “The Right Time.” That’s the one where she talks to herself a little bit?
AO: Yeah, exactly. She’s like, “Don’t give them anything to laugh about.”
SW: Like a pep talk.
AO: Yeah, exactly that. It is a pep talk. That’s kind of my idea, about what she or anybody in her position would be going through as a woman with so much to offer, such a big brain, and so much potential. But, what do you have to climb over when you’re living in a time where you’re not valued and the only jobs available are to be a teacher in a one-room school house, or to leave the town that you grew up in? And people are going to look at you. People are gonna make fun of you if you’re a smart woman. People still make fun of smart women. It’s so weird.
Sara, we’ve talked about this a lot, being women in music, about how I feel like I’ve been so lucky and so respected throughout my career as a musician. You know I’ve always felt very valued and have very rarely been made to feel “less than” due to my gender. I feel so lucky that I’ve been in a community of musicians who have really supported me. But I know that that’s not the case for many musicians, and across other fields it is absolutely not the case.
SW: Yeah. I feel I have had a similar experience with that support. I can only imagine that in that era, when community really was the people around you – not people somewhere on the internet, in a town across the country that you can kind of connect with. She could physically rally the people in her region by convincing newspapers to publish things.
AO: By like getting up on stage and giving speeches or by writing a letter to the President and getting responses. Obviously, she’s not the only one. There were many women who were powerful and were doing amazing things. They just had to try so much harder, and that is what’s interesting. I think having a daughter in this time of life, in the 2020s, you want to give them the tools to always feel that they have the confidence and awareness to think of themselves as equal and powerful.
SW: Tell me about the research you did for this. So, the idea was presented to you and commissioned by The Orlando Philharmonic. Is that right?
AO: By the Orlando Phil, yep! So the OPO asked me in 2019. They said, “It’s the centennial of the passage of the 19th Amendment.” A lot of orchestras in the U.S. were asking female composers to write music for concerts they were doing. They were trying to diversify their programming. And when OPO asked me to do a piece, I was sort of like, “Why me?” That’s something I’ve never done before, writing an orchestral piece to be performed as a commission. It just felt like, that’s not how I operate. You know what I mean, I’m a songwriter. But I said, “Yes, that would be a good challenge.”
I didn’t think about it for a while, and then COVID happened, and everything kind of got crazy. I was like, “I’m never gonna write another song again, maybe this is it, maybe I’m done making music.” And then when I got down here to Florida, I started to regain some sense of artistic confidence and inspiration. I started to write a little bit of Age of Apathy that fall and then started to work on this 20- to 25-minute piece of music. So I went into the studio and really started to write it. But without text. I didn’t really even know what the text was going to be about yet. I wrote all the music first, because I had to get it to the orchestrator, Tanner Porter, who orchestrated all the charts for me. That was gonna take a lot of time.
That was November and the concert was supposed to be in May. I needed to get her the music. So I was working, working, working, and didn’t have any text. I wrote all the vocal parts and all the music sketched out to what I wanted it to be. We talked a ton about, “Hey, I want this to open with brass, and I want strings to come in here, and I want this line to be played on cello, and these are the brass lines that I want.” I would make these demos where I would play all that stuff for her, and then she orchestrated it. She also put together all the interludes that sort of stitch the songs together, which are so cool.
It was really fun to have this blank slate without any lyric goal or hesitancy to hold me back. I had simultaneously been doing research, reading, and figuring out what I wanted it to be. “All My Friends” is really just an imagining of the moment when these movements met up in Tennessee to get these votes ratified. And they did march. And they did plead their case and were ultimately successful. But those images are from my own head, like a reimagining of vague historical events.
SW: Let me just jump in really fast just to say that I love how much space you gave for yourself in imagining that imagery. I feel like my own temptation would be to report and do the research and make it rhyme. I feel like you’re the perfect artist for this kind of commission, because of the way that your melodies can float above or without the constraints of rigid time that a lot of us songwriters are tempted to do. The way you carry a line – I don’t think you always realize how extraordinarily unique it is. I think that because of the way that you do music like that, it lends itself to an orchestral project where we’re not dealing with 8-bar phrases and the occasional extra 2 bars and things.
I feel like you are the perfect singer-songwriter to receive this kind of commission. I am so happy that you indulged in that vision of the world, of the people descending into Tennessee, and what the fog was like and what the air was like. Because that is what the feeling was like and that’s the story. It’s not just, “on this date this happened.” I’m glad that you put yourself in the story, because that gave so much room for the arc and the heart of the thing and makes me wanna listen. If I had done this, it would sound like an eighth-grade book report.
AO: No, come on, give yourself more credit, Sara! I don’t have any idea what Carrie Chapman Catt was like personally, because I didn’t know her, but I felt like I could give her dialogue. You can make her personality be whatever it is that you want her to be.
I just read this amazing book called Wolf Hall. I was so fascinated by how the writer, [Hilary Mantel], makes Thomas Cromwell, this character, from the 1500s, feel like this modern, empathetic, shrewd, conniving, and complicated character. That also could have felt like an eighth-grade book report about Thomas Cromwell, but the author injected life into him. That’s the cool thing when you are an artist and when you are a writer, that’s what we do for people who were real or people who we’re making up. You’re taking these embellishments, and you’re telling a story with them.
With the song “Crisis,” [Carrie Chapman Catt] gave a speech called “Crisis” in 1916, and I read that speech and thought, “Oh, my God! This!” Yes, she’s using archaic language, and nobody speaks like this, but how can I imagine her as almost like a bluegrass singer getting up there and saying, “Alright, gather around girls. I’m gonna tell you about what’s going on and what we’re gonna do about it.”
Once I realized I could make it my own because this is my piece, it sort of like set me free into this new creative territory.
SW: And the way that you’re talking about “Crisis,” just the word itself makes you think of ominous minor chords and tension. And with those beautiful horns and flutes, it is just this wonderful, hopeful dawn of a movement. The dawn of a new time is here while you’re singing about the crisis. I love the optimism that’s contained in that and how you acknowledge that everything is all together.
AO: Exactly. One of my favorite things about “Crisis” is I really wanted there to be mandolin on it. It just has that folky feel to it. I had connected with Sierra Hull, who obviously, I’ve known for years and years, but we hadn’t really played that much music together, and I remember being on Cayamo in 2022, and really jamming with her for the first time. And then, you know, fast forward to eight months later I was like, “Oh, I think Sierra would totally kill this song.” I love her playing on it. It just has the right amount of weight to it.
SW: On “War Measure,” I’ve never heard you sing like you do on that chorus. The way you pull down those notes!
AO: It’s hard. It’s actually really hard for me to sing like that. It hurts my voice. But that’s actually my favorite one to do live, because there’s something about singing those lines, “If they pass this amendment to our constitution, we are gonna be talking about revolution.” That’s funny, because I had written that song without the lyrics. And then when I put the lyrics in, I was like, “Oh, this is actually, really rad.” It made it fun.
SW: I bet that was really fun. It makes sense that you wrote the lyrics after a lot of the music, because you get so much in there. It feels like you have room to expand the lines in ways that you might not if you’re writing it down on paper, right? And you get to really chew on certain lines for longer. I feel like there are some lines that get the time that they want to have rather than the time that might have been allotted to them.
AO: Exactly. It was odd, but I’m really glad that it worked out like that.
SW: I love “Over the Finish Line.”
AO: With Anaïs [Mitchell], who is a genius.
SW: And such a wonderful voice to have on here, both in terms of tonality – because you sound amazing together – but also because her songwriting voice has been a voice of movement, a voice of awareness. I love that choice.
AO: The idea kind of came after the fact. I recorded the song and I wanted there to be another voice. I didn’t want it to be me singing harmony with myself. I wanted something starkly different, tonally, from my voice. I’ve known Anaïs for almost 20 years. We’ve been in this same scene and the same world, but we’ve never really done anything together. It worked out so well. I love what she did and how she moves around through the melody and the unison part at the end of the song. I felt connected to her.
SW: I love how it is not the kind of harmony part where you are trying to blend them together. It is very much two individuals choosing to sing together. There are places where your phrasing is different and you’re shortening different lines. It is a perfect example of what you have throughout this record with the children’s choir and the orchestration. To have this lovely duet moment is another version of the sisterhood of letting everyone be themselves rather than needing to have it all looking so pretty and clean and tidy. It is like, “We are existing together, and it’s a beautiful thing.”
January 6, 2024 would be the 100th birthday of Earl Scruggs, a musician and artist who helped create bluegrass music and who was and is perhaps the most prominent and well known banjo player to have ever lived. Scruggs passed away in 2012, but this posthumous celebration – to be held at Nashville’s Ryman Auditorium – speaks to his undying musical legacy. The performance will benefit the Earl Scruggs Center, a museum in Shelby, North Carolina that’s dedicated to Scruggs, the local community, and its residents, and inhabits the former courthouse just up the highway from unincorporated Flint Hill, where he was raised.
The show, with musical director Jerry Douglas, will feature performances by bluegrass and roots music luminaries such as The Earls of Leicester, The Del McCoury Band, Gena Britt, Alison Brown, Sam Bush, Michael Cleveland, Stuart Duncan, Jimmie Fadden, Béla Fleck, Jeff Hanna, Sierra Hull, Bronwyn Keith-Hynes, Jim Mill, Justin Moses, Jerry Pentecost, Todd Phillips, Harry Stinson, Bryan Sutton, Tony Trischka, Abigail Washburn, Pete Wernick, and more. Limited tickets are still available and, for those who may not be able to attend in person, the entire show will be livestreamed via Veeps.com for $14.99.
It promises to be a quintessential Nashville evening, a star-studded lineup with endless appearances, special guests, and with certainly plenty of heartfelt remembrances and tributes in store. Livestream viewers will get a rare chance to be invited “flys on the wall” for a magical and one-of-a-kind concert.
Earl Scruggs’ legacy will certainly live on – for another hundred years and, we hope, beyond. BGS and many other roots music and bluegrass communities and organizations will continue to celebrate Scruggs’ centenary throughout the year, so keep an eye out for upcoming content that celebrates Earl Scruggs and his three-finger style.
Lead image courtesy of the Ryman Auditorium; inset graphic courtesy of Veeps.
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