WATCH: Anthony D’Amato, “When I See You Again”

Artist: Anthony D’Amato
Hometown: Blairstown, New Jersey
Single: “When I See You Again”
Release Date: July 3, 2020

In Their Words: “I originally wrote this song as a closer for the Social Distance Happy Hour, the weekly livestream series I launched when touring shut down. A lot of my catalog tends to explore darker themes, and it felt like I needed something more hopeful to end the shows with, something to remind folks of how sweet it will feel to hug their friends or go to a concert without worrying about spreading a deadly disease. While I was in the process of mixing the tune, I came across a really striking photo of two kids getting ready for school during the 1918 Spanish flu outbreak. They’re both wearing masks and staring straight into the camera, and I knew right away that it needed to be the cover art. The video is similarly built out of historic footage from the Prelinger Archives and I hope it can serve as a reminder to folks that, as unprecedented as our current situation feels, we’ve been here before in many ways, and it’s up to us as a society whether we want to listen to the science and learn from the past or bury our heads in the sand and repeat our mistakes.” — Anthony D’Amato


Photo credit: Vivian Wang

LISTEN: The Two Tracks, “All Women Are Healers”

Artist: The Two Tracks
Hometown: Sheridan, Wyoming
Song: “All Women Are Healers”
Album: Cheers to Solitude
Release Date: August 14, 2020

In Their Words: “‘All Women Are Healers’ was inspired by the title of a natural healing book that has been in my collection for years. The song speaks as a supportive women’s anthem highlighting the importance of women in the world. I feel incredibly lucky to have had the chance to work with Will Kimbrough producing this record and Sean Sullivan engineering at The Butcher Shoppe in Nashville, just months before the studio was forced to close their doors because the property is being redeveloped. The history in that room was thick. We recorded our past two albums there and would have recorded every future one in that studio — it was such a low-key comfortable atmosphere to create in. I also appreciate Will for connecting us with an incredible woman for the mixing phase of the album, Trina Shoemaker. She is one of the best in the Americana industry right now and it is refreshing to see women in these often male-dominated roles. It’s good to see the current progressive shifts in awareness of the social standards and prejudices women still deal with across the world.” — Julie Szewc, The Two Tracks


Photo credit: Dean Owens

BGS 5+5: Joshua Radin

Artist: Joshua Radin
Hometown: Cleveland, Ohio
Latest albums: Here, Right Now (LP) and Acoustic From Sunset Sound (EP)

Which artist has influenced you the most … and how?

I have no idea how to answer that. There are way too many to choose, and not just musicians. But to name a few, Bob Dylan, Paul Simon, Tom Petty, Elliott Smith, Nick Drake, Paul Cezanne, Henry Miller, J.D. Salinger, Dostoyevsky, Hesse, Picasso, Tolstoy …

What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?

The first time I headlined and sold out the Bowery Ballroom in New York City. I had lived in NY for years and that was my favorite spot to see music. So when I finally decided, later in life, to start playing and writing music, being on the other side of that stage was magical.

What’s the toughest time you ever had writing a song?

Hmm, that’s a good question. I’d have to say that this happens very frequently. And nine times out of ten, I’ll end up scrapping the song because if it seems like too much effort, I always feel like it wasn’t meant to be written.

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

I have so many on tour. And at home. But on tour, I wake up on the bus, Google “best coffee near me” and start my day from there. Then I’ll usually walk around the city snapping photos, stumbling down streets without a plan. Everything on tour is planned out once I’m at soundcheck that day, so before that, I like to experience as much spontaneity as I can.

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

Another great question! Especially because when I’m out on the road, ninety percent of what I think about is where I’m going to eat my next meal… tough to decide but maybe — eating Prince St. Pizza in New York on a stoop, while Bob Dylan busks on the street for change with an open guitar case on the sidewalk.


Photo credit: Shervin Lainez

WATCH: Chris Knight, “I’m William Callahan”

Artist: Chris Knight
Hometown: Slaughters, Kentucky
Song: “I’m William Callahan” (Niangua Coffee Sessions)
Album: Almost Daylight
Label: Thirty Tigers

In Their Words: “I wrote ‘William Callahan’ with a friend of mine, Tim Krekel. We both were staff writers for Bluewater Music then. We wrote it and went on to the next song. I pulled the song back out before Almost Daylight and rewrote some lines and completely changed the melody. It’s probably my favorite song on the album now.” — Chris Knight

“While we were in Kentucky filming Chris’ recent music videos, we decided to take some time one afternoon and film a few live performances behind Chris’ barn. The acoustic performances turned out to be some of the most intimate, raw songs we’ve ever captured.” — Nathaniel Maddux, Slate & Glass, director


Photo credit: Ray Kennedy

WATCH: Aaron Burdett, “Dirt Poor”

Artist: Aaron Burdett
Hometown: Saluda, North Carolina
Song: “Dirt Poor”
Label: Organic Records

In Their Words: “This new video for ‘Dirt Poor’ is shot at my childhood home, where my folks still live. It includes old scrapbook photos of my family and their friends, interspersed with shots of my daughter playing in the same places and in the same way my brothers and I did back in the ’80s. To me, this song at depth is about nostalgia and aging and time. Things are totally different now, but also the same as they were way back when. As hard as it is to remember to do, we should all try to cherish the moment we’re in now, today. It may well be what we’re looking back on years down the road as the ‘good old days.’ Hope you enjoy it!” — Aaron Burdett


Photo credit: Sandlin Gaither

Best of: Live From Here

This month brought the unfortunate news that Live From Here, hosted by Chris Thile, has been cancelled.

The American Public Media-produced radio show, previously known as A Prairie Home Companion, has been beloved by listeners since its inception in 1974, and continued in 2016 when the series was rebranded as Live From Here, with Thile leading the way.

The show was cut from production as a result of COVID-19’s widespread impact on the music and entertainment industries. On his socials, Thile graciously acknowledged the decision, stating the purpose of Live From Here as “a celebration of live, collaborative audible art.”

So, without further hesitation, let’s look at 11 of our favorite Live From Here moments.

“Dean Town” – Vulfpeck & Chris Thile

Perhaps one of the most loved Live From Here moments was Thile’s guest performance with Vulfpeck on their classic, “Dean Town.” One has every reason to assume that eye contact between Thile and Joe Dart is still going strong at this very moment.


“Fiddle Sticks” — Billy Contreras

It may be one of the lesser-viewed bits from the show, but this “Fast-AF” fiddle tune feature by Billy Contreras is certainly not short on notes. Two and a half minutes of pure double stops and bass walks.


“Lovesick Blues” — Brandi Carlile, Ben Folds, Chris Thile, & Sarah Jarosz

Ever wondered if Brandi Carlile could yodel on par with Jimmie Rodgers — or everyone’s favorite Walmart yodeling kid, Mason Ramsey? Well, look no further than this early Live From Here collaboration with Carlile, Thile, Ben Folds, and Sarah Jarosz.


“Change” – Mavis Staples

“Say it loud, say it clear!” We’ve shared this powerful performance from the legendary Mavis Staples before, but it is even more relevant now. Things are starting to change around here!


“Toy Heart / Marry Me / Jerusalem” – I’m With Her

Almost 10 minutes of mind blowing harmony and togetherness from I’m With Her, all beloved guests throughout the show’s course. As Thile so happily declares at the end, “There’s not a better band — in the world — than I’m With Her.”


“In Da Club” / Musician Birthdays – Julian Lage, O’Donovan, Thile, and More

What could be better than the composer of 50 Cent’s “In Da Club” jamming with Chris Thile, or Julian Lage playing Django Reinhardt? Oh that’s right: it’s Aoife O’Donovan singing Dolly Parton’s “9 to 5.”


“Blue Skies” – Andrew Bird & Chris Thile

Not only does this pair look quite the same, but their playing together is divine, and one of the last Live From Here moments we were graced with before shutdown.


“Kodachrome” – Paul Simon

This one’ll make you think all the world is a sunny day. Just look at Thile’s face!


“Can’t Find My Way Home (Blind Faith)” – Rachael Price

The tonal map of this moment is pure magic. Lake Street Dive’s Rachael Price supported by Thile’s harmony, Mike Elizondo’s bass lines, Brittany Haas’s fiddle playing — need we say more?


“Winter Boy” – Amanda Brown

Since Thile’s takeover as host, Live From Here has always had a strong female vocalist on stage. From Aoife O’Donovan to Sarah Jarosz to Gaby Moreno to more recent guest Amanda Brown — these women have been an integral part of the show’s cast and performance. Enjoy Brown’s beautiful take on this Buffy Sainte-Marie classic. 


“Hard Times” – Chris Thile

It only seems right to acknowledge the many efforts of the Live From Here cast and crew to bring listeners the show, recast as “Live From Home,” in the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic and global shutdown. For the last three months, those at the show worked tirelessly to bring us the weekly program, with the help of dozens of musicians, show regulars, and the #LiveFromHome social media campaign.

All we have left to say is — thank you to Chris Thile, all of the musicians, crew, and those who made Live From Here possible. And we hope these “Hard Times” we’re all living in together come again no more.


Photo credit: Nate Ryan

LISTEN: Philippe Bronchtein, “I’ll Let the Steel Do the Crying”

Artist: Philippe Bronchtein
Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee
Song: “I’ll Let the Steel Do the Crying”
Release Date: June 5th, 2020

In Their Words: “I wrote ‘I’ll Let the Steel Do the Crying’ shortly after relocating to Nashville. I was putting in marathon practice sessions on my steel guitar, so it was always on my mind. While commiserating on the phone with an old friend, I made the joke in passing that I didn’t have to cry as long as I had my pedal steel to do it for me. He lit up and said, ‘That’s a song.’ I finished writing it that night. It features my good friend Asa Brosius on the pedal steel.” — Philippe Bronchtein

Philippe Bronchtein · I’ll Let The Steel Do The Crying

Photo credit: Monica Murray

Sarah Jarosz Looks to Her Texas Hometown for Inspiration (Part 1 of 2)

After years spent living in New York City and traveling the world on tour, Sarah Jarosz has turned to a source of inspiration she’s never mined before: her hometown.

With her fifth album, World on the Ground, the Grammy-winning artist gleaned her own folktales from the everyday rhythms of her life in Wimberley, Texas. Her time away from Friday night football games and the shadows of cypress trees allowed her to look on Wimberley’s details with fresh eyes, from the Ford Escape her parents drove and the dusty trails it kicked up to conversations about out-of-reach dreams with old friends (that she examines on “Maggie,” which came from an actual heart-to-heart she had with an old friend at her high-school reunion).

Jarosz found a breakthrough in the most familiar folds of her memory, but this perspective was also molded by the city that guided her as she retraced her steps through the Texas Hill Country in her lyrics. On “Pay It No Mind,” the single that gives World on the Ground its name, Jarosz alludes to this ability to find meaning and movement at a distance: she sings of the frightening, and often destructive, churn of life in our current moment from the point of view of a “little bird stretching her wings” who takes in the chaos from the seventh floor.

“I think being able to write and make this record mostly about my hometown, in New York, from far away, was an interesting part of the process,” she says. “It’s almost what allowed me to take on the role of the little bird on the seventh floor in a way, because I think it took leaving Wimberley and being away from it for quite awhile to be in a place where I could actually write about it in this way.”

In the first half of our two-part interview, Jarosz walks BGS through the little Texas town that became her muse, how her work with bluegrass supergroup I’m With Her left an impact on her creative process, and more.

For some people, going back to their hometown is a traumatic event, a negative, damaging experience. There’s clearly a lot of compassion for the voices you explore on World on the Ground, which was inspired by your own hometown. If you were to visit Wimberley with fresh eyes, how would you describe it?

Jarosz: One of the things that stands out about it compared to other towns of its size in Texas — and I think this would be obvious, even if you’d never been there and were taking a drive through town — it seems like it’s a little more balanced. It has one high school, and one football team, and a lot of the small town culture does revolve around that, around this sort of Friday Night Lights idea of a small Texas town.

But there’s also this incredible artsy kind of community in Wimberley. One of the big draws of Wimberley is its market days, which I think happens once a month — maybe it’s every weekend in the summer, I can’t remember. Arts and crafts and even the fact that there was a bluegrass jam every Friday night, that was why I fell in love with all this music in the first place. It feels a little more balanced in that way.

I truly feel, probably in a biased way, that it’s a very magical place. A lot of people who drive through it, if they’re driving around the hill country in Texas, would agree that it’s one of the towns that stands out from the rest. It has this kind of shimmery quality to it — that’s the word that comes to mind.

I love the contrast of “Maggie,” then, in which you’re singing from the perspective of a friend of yours from high school who can’t wait to leave the small town behind. I appreciate “Maggie” because it’s a real conversation you could be having with anyone who’s stuck where they are. The location is almost insignificant, because it’s about whatever’s holding you — it doesn’t necessarily have to be the town you’re in.

Exactly. The “football games and processed food” line definitely puts it in a place, but I feel like [the song] could also be anywhere. I purposely tried to make that happen. It was such an eye-opening thing for me to actually have this conversation with this friend — we were really close friends in childhood, then just drifted apart over the years, and ran into each other at my tenth high school reunion. She actually didn’t go to my high school, she went to a different school and that’s why we drifted apart.

She was asking me about my touring and my life and everything, and I think I was probably saying, “I wish I could be in one place more. I wish I had more of a home sense at this point in my life.” She was sort of saying, “All I want is to do what you do, travel and see the world.” It’s funny how sometimes the things that seem so obvious take just a simple moment of someone saying it to your face, and then you realize, “Oh! Duh!” That really happened for me there. That song is all about empathy and compassion for anyone who wants their circumstance to be different than it is and might not necessarily have the means to make that happen, but still having the dreams to hopefully one day change.

“What Do I Do” is a companion song to that, in a way: It’s sung by someone who wants to be home more, who wants to be still for a minute. What inspired that song?

A lot of these songs feel like gifts, in the sense that I generally feel like a very, very slow lyrical writer. The music comes more quickly to me, but that song and a lot of the songs that I wrote with John Leventhal were similar experiences. If he had the music written and sent it to me, the lyrics seemed to come very quickly. “Pay It No Mind” and “Orange and Blue” were two of those.

“What Do I Do” was another one where it almost felt like a dream to write. It’s similar to “Maggie” in the sense that it’s that same sort of longing for wanting something else than what you currently have, but then it’s also a thankfulness and acceptance in that. It almost feels like a mantra-type song where it’s repeated and it goes to a different place — very simple chords in the verses, and then it opens into this washy vibe in the, “What do I do, what do I do?” It was one of those gifts of a song.

You’ve been collaborating with your friends Sara Watkins and Aoife O’Donovan for years. Now that you’ve written albums and toured together, do you hear, or did you feel, the imprint of your time with I’m With Her going into this record in a new way?

I felt it in a creative way, personally. I think all of us were just so positively influenced by that experience [of] touring and putting out that record. What that allowed all of us — I’m speaking for myself, but I’d imagine they probably feel a similar way — was just the chance to step back and take a breath. Not in a busy sense, because we were just constantly working and on tour, but creatively.

I had never been in a band before; I had only ever put out my solo records. I think after Undercurrent, I couldn’t really imagine going straight into another solo record or album push because I just wasn’t inspired to. I had reached a point where I had wanted to experience something new. There was something so rewarding about feeling like I was a part of a team. We were all on each other’s team and carrying the load together. It was just so wonderful and magical. It definitely gave me the creative juice to just be so psyched about making this record.

With Sarah and Sean making their Watkins Family Hour duo project, and Aoife making Bull Frogs Croon, I love those projects so much because [we] all seem so inspired. I think that is because we all allowed ourselves this chance to step back from our own things, be a part of a team and give ourselves the gift of this renewed inspiration, almost. I definitely felt that. I hope they do, too. I’m so grateful for them.

Editor’s Note: Read the second half of our interview with BGS Artist of the Month Sarah Jarosz here.


Photo credit: Josh Wool

Forgiving Herself, Maya de Vitry Feels Better and Better on New Solo Album

When Maya de Vitry quit her most recent full-time touring gig, she did it for self-preservation. Before her solo debut Adaptations was released in 2019, the multi-instrumentalist and singer/songwriter prioritized her life by centering community, home, and a sense of place in what had often been a frantic, taxing, and nomadic daily life.

Her second, just-released album, How to Break a Fall, was tracked almost immediately after Adaptations hit shelves, and with a harder, more grizzled, rockier aesthetic it demonstrated the growth and transformation that had occurred in the meantime. A sense of movement, of excited, unapologetic momentum permeates the Dan Knobler-produced project. Where Adaptations had seen de Vitry through a transition to stillness, How to Break a Fall was poised to carry her into still another new period for the budding solo artist. 

Enter a global pandemic. With nearly all of that momentum and her entire release cycle squandered on a music industry that had to shutter itself in the face of COVID-19, de Vitry found herself once again prioritizing, enjoying each individual moment at home, focusing on community in whatever shape it can take at this point, and baking banana bread, too. It turns out practice does make perfect. 

BGS spoke to de Vitry over the phone, immediately diving into how serendipitous this collection of songs is for a moment of global pausing.

BGS: The last record, Adaptations, was written in isolation and now you’ve landed with this new record, How to Break a Fall, and on the back end of it you’ve ended up in isolation again. I wondered if you’ve thought about that? Or considered the strange symmetry, the way that these records are bookended by the idea of intentional solitude?

de Vitry: [Laughs] Wow, I absolutely did not connect those dots and that is so wild. It’s so ironic, because I was feeling very frustrated and angry about losing all of these shows this spring and I was finally feeling like [I was ready to get on the road] — because with Adaptations I didn’t tour really at all. I wasn’t emotionally or mentally healthy enough to be touring my music, I wasn’t ready to be on stage. Then this time, I felt emotionally healthy to go out there and play shows and it was like, “Oh, but the world has another health situation going on.” 

In some ways, How to Break a Fall was also written in isolation. I had kind of cut myself off a bit from the East Nashville scene, because I needed some space from the patterns and circles of people. I needed space from touring and leaving [the Stray Birds]. I was working at Starbucks while I was writing the album and I was essentially in isolation. You go to work for eight hours, come home, and you’re just in your house again. It was still voluntary, and I definitely still had some community. I could still pop out and play a show. 

I’m kind of an introverted person, so I’m always in isolation when I’m writing — in some way. I’ve been writing so much in the last couple of weeks. I was ready to kind of emerge, I was ready to go and be out there, and in interaction, instead of isolation. Now it’s like mandatory isolation and I’m going to write.

What does that feel like to you? Does it feel like a grinding of the gears? Like, “Oh, hold on, we’ve gotta turn this ship around and it’s going to take some effort and energy for me to go back into the writing frame of mind when I was ready to be in the outward-facing, extroverted frame of mind.”

It feels like muscle memory. It’s like a pivot. That part of it has not been difficult. I think accessing the writing part, the inward part of being an artist, is [always] within reach. I get as much satisfaction from creating the stuff as I do performing the stuff, if not more. I would say the process of writing an album, recording an album, and being in the studio with people is so fulfilling to me. Just creating it. There’s almost a grieving process when that’s over. Then there’s the next thing, when the songs come alive… I was looking forward to that, seeing how the songs would live and evolve and change. How they would land, out there in the world in real time with people. What other choice do I have? Let’s just pivot. Let’s write another record. [Laughs]

“Better and Better” is about the idea of building something and the song feels pertinent in this moment of… pausing, let’s say, because I think we could all eventually agree that life isn’t about being the best, it’s about being better. It’s about being better than the moment before, the day before, the year before. How do you see that song’s potential for connecting with listeners right now?

That song was like the doorway for writing the rest of that album and it was the doorway because, through writing it, I was realizing that I was actually unwell. Some of the things I was singing about, those lyrics were all things that I wanted to believe, and I realized that I had to make changes. I had to stop doing something that felt normal. I had to leave the band that I was in, I had to stop touring for a while, and yeah, that in some ways does remind me of this moment, too. The only thing we really can control right now is how we take care of ourselves — and that’s also sort of the only thing we ever can control. But it’s easier to feel that when it feels like other things are so outside of our control. 

I felt myself stop, stock still in the moment that I heard the line, “Forgiving myself is the most I can do” go by, because I don’t think a lot of people realize that’s what we’re doing every day right now, to get through. Letting ourselves just be enough. Where does that line come from for you?

That line is specifically about staying. About staying in the situation I was in. Before I was in [the Stray Birds], I was a musician. I was playing fiddle tunes, I was really into old-time music, I was writing songs, and I started to draft up what would be a solo record — in like 2009 and 2010. Then the band became like an invisible fence. There was no room for anyone to be doing anything outside of the band. There was no physical room, for all of the time we were on the road, and there was no emotional room with the interpersonal dynamic of the band. It was not possible to continue to be myself, to nurture my own voice as a writer and musician and also be a member of that band, because of the environment of the band. 

Forgiving myself, in that line, is about forgiving my nineteen-year-old self for not knowing any better at the time. And forgiving myself for my fears, because it was easier [to avoid them instead]. It’s vulnerable to sing your lyrics at all, ever, and I’m forgiving myself for those fears I had. Instead of standing up with my name and my lyrics, it was easier to climb inside the identity of a band and feel protected and more secure.


Which is quite the contrast from How to Break a Fall, because, to me, this record feels like a statement, a declaration for women to be allowed to take up space. And to be allowed to access and enjoy as much of the oxygen in those spaces as they like. Songs like “Something In the Way She Moves,” “Gray,” definitely “Open the Door” all speak to this. And the rock ‘n’ roll aesthetic often feels angry and impassioned, but the music doesn’t feel hostile in the way that it channels those energies.

That’s one hundred percent right. That comes from that process of forgiveness. It comes from walking through that doorway, the doorway being “Better and Better,” and walking into this landscape of songs and being receptive to writing that story. I think the record doesn’t sound hostile because it’s not. These are the songs, these are the sounds that I felt like making, this is a story. These things are true for me. 

There’s this video of Sister Rosetta Tharpe playing incredible guitar, walking up and down this train platform, it’s an iconic taking-up-of-space. An iconic expression of joy. That kind of spirit is what’s behind this music and this record. For as much as I can control what people can get from it, I would hope that some of what it unlocks or awakens is, “Huh… there are a lot of female characters on this record taking up space and doing what they want.”

It’s not hostile because it’s taking the responsibility of going inward by going to my own interior and inviting listeners to go into their interiors and see what’s going on in there. In the song “Revolution” it’s like, What are these walls? What’s inside of me? If this is the way that my eyes have been trained to see, what new world am I going to see? If I can’t shift the lens or something on the inside, how am I going to see a world that’s [different?] It’s happened so many times in history, whether it’s women’s rights or gay rights or the civil rights movement. We have to practice imagining the impossible. That’s connected to why it’s not hostile. 

When that’s the reason behind the music and the intent behind the record, the volume of it or whether it’s an electric or an acoustic guitar or if it’s rock or folk — none of that matters to me. [Laughs] This is the story I’m telling! 


All photos: Laura Partain

LISTEN: Gretchen Peters, “Leavin’ Kentucky”

Artist: Gretchen Peters
Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee
Song: “Leavin’ Kentucky”
Album: The Night You Wrote That Song: The Songs of Mickey Newbury
Release Date: May 15, 2020
Label: Scarlet Letter Records

In Their Words: “This song was one of the first ones of Mickey’s I ever heard, and the line ‘the road down to Nashville’s like crystal and stone’ is what hooked me. That a country song could wring as much poetry out of a line about asphalt still floors me. This is a song about the agony of love — not just heartbreak, but a hurt so deep that you wish you could cut it out of yourself (‘take a .44 pistol to me’). That was something Newbury did better than anyone — pure pain. We wanted it to feel loose and a little ragged, like a track The Band would’ve cut.” — Gretchen Peters


Photo credit: Gina Binkley