We’re figuring it out, one day at a time. Sometimes life can go by so fast, one can forget to savor the moment.
These songs keep us present and feeling alive. Our new album, Growing Pains, talks about the highs and lows of life and the emotions that come along with balancing your career and mental health. This collection of songs is what we’re currently listening to as it’s all happening. – Trousdale
“There’s A Rhythm” – Bon Iver
“Can I really still complain” just hits me so hard. The chord progression, the tempo, the production– everything about this song gets me into a meditative zone of presence and reflection. – Georgia Greene
“Sapling” – Foy Vance
“I wished I could go back in time, but all I could do was apologize. Right then, your eyes were healing…” I mean come on. – GG
“Molly I’m Coming Around” – Annika Bennett
This song just feels like a warm blanket of truth – being honest with yourself and others. – GG
“Don’t Stop” – Fleetwood Mac
This one was definitely a sonic inspiration for the album. It has such a positive vibe and message and helps remind us that there’s always another day to try again. – GG, Quinn D’Andrea, Lauren Jones
“Green Light” – Darlingside
This song just feels like a meditation, the chord progression feels like it’s existed forever, and the lyrics feel like they could be spoken as a prayer. Could listen to this song on loop forever. – QD
“Let’s Be Still” – The Head And The Heart
I need a constant reminder to move slower. This song is perfect for that. – LJ
“My Love For You Is A Straight Line” – Ken Yates
This song feels like coming home to myself. – LJ
“Never Been Better” – Ben Abraham
Coming from an artist who also understands the grind of this life we’ve chosen, I feel like Ben puts this feeling perfectly. Sometimes when we’re overwhelmed it’s just helpful to hear that exact feeling validated and put into words. – QD
“Look Up” – Joy Oladokun
I love this song when I need a reminder to zoom out. We can get so caught up in the everyday stress, and the words of this song coupled with the arrangement is the perfect opportunity to remember that this life is so much more than that. – QD
“You Make Me Feel Like Dancing” – Leo Sayer
Listen to this song for an immediate dose of serotonin. – LJ
Okay, we say it every week, but really– You Gotta Hear This! Our weekly premiere and new music roundup includes bluegrass, the blues, Americana, indie, bebop influences, and so much more.
LA’s American Mile kick us off with a music video for “Waiting on a Sunday,” which is equal parts roots rock and alt country – into Tom Petty vibes? This one’s for you! The song was inspired by a mundane gas station encounter on a silent pandemic Sunday. Singer-songwriter Meir Levine also launches “I Wish It Was Over,” an indie rock-tinged Americana track with poppy textures that considers closure, moving on, and looking ahead.
Unfortunately, two of our string bands below have the blues this week! EZRA, a talented new acoustic quartet with bluegrass roots and a stacked roster of pickers, bring us a performance video for “Basically a Blues,” where they turn a typical 12-bar blues progression inside out and upside down with acrobatic, virtuosic picking. Plus, Lonesome River Band’s new single, “Blues,” is an Adam Wright-written song featuring Rod Riley on Telecaster. That track is from their upcoming project, Telegrass, and we’re receiving the message loud and clear.
Singer-songwriter Mac Cornish covers Danny O’Keefe’s “The Road” with a deliciously retro, twangy ’70s sound that’s appropriately melancholic and full of life, too. Elsewhere in our roundup, you’ll hear Julia Sanders, who’s also inhabiting grief, sadness, and nostalgia in a video for her new single, “Star Stickers,” during which her listeners will certainly be able to picture glow-in-the-dark decorations stuck haphazardly to their childhood ceilings.
Make sure to scroll all the way to the bottom, though, as you won’t want to miss “Foxology” from Tokyo’s Thompson the Fox, an exciting newgrass quartet with an uncommon lineup: banjo, bass, drums, and xylophone. It’s fantastic music, bebop and jazz influences leading to sonic surprises around every twist and turn of the original melody. When this one arrived in our inboxes, we were immediately charmed and entranced. You will be, too.
It’s all right here on BGS and, simply– You Gotta Hear This!
American Mile, “Waiting on a Sunday”
Artist:American Mile Hometown: Los Angeles, California Song: “Waiting on a Sunday” Album:American Dream Release Date: May 2, 2025 (single); June 6, 2025 (album)
In Their Words: “When I was writing ‘Waiting on a Sunday,’ I was on a couch in Vermont. It was silent and my thoughts were the only thing around. It was 2020, in the middle of the pandemic, and I walked to the gas station up the street, ’cause nothing was coming to me in that silence. There was a lady at the gas pump trying to wrestle her kids into the car and pump gas at the same time. I thought I recognized her from high school, so I helped her pump her gas while she dealt with her kids. She told me a little bit about her life and the struggles of being a single mom; she was heading to church that morning. It all kind of flooded into my mind at that point and I wrote most of the lyrics that day. I thought to myself, ‘We’re all in a way waiting for a Sunday,’ whatever that means to us.” – Eugene Rice
Mac Cornish, “The Road”
Artist:Mac Cornish Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee Song: “The Road” Release Date: May 1, 2025
In Their Words: “‘The Road’ by Danny O’Keefe has been one of my favorite songs for years, because of Danny’s melancholic but beautiful lyrics about life on the road. Danny’s writing in general has always been important to me, but as time has passed and I’ve toured more, this song keeps resonating with me more. I started covering it with my backing band about a year ago and it quickly became a staple in our set and a favorite of our audiences. This past December we went into the studio and recorded the whole thing to tape, really trying to emulate the early ’70s sounds of this song, but also give our own spin on it. Our two acoustic guitars lay as the foundation for our version of the song. The bass and drums drive the song forward, but never distract from the delicate Travis picking. The pedal steel weeps through the whole song, emphasizing certain lyrics and complementing the vocal melody. I’m proud of my take on this ’70s classic and am excited to add my name to the list of artists who have covered this song.” – Mac Cornish
Track Credits: Mac Cornish – Acoustic guitar, vocals Bailey Warren – Acoustic guitar, backing vocals Trevor Stellflug – Pedal steel Jacob Miller – Bass Hunter Maxson – Drums
EZRA, “Basically a Blues”
Artist:EZRA Hometown: Oberlin, Ohio Song: “Basically a Blues” Album:Froggy’s Demise Release Date: May 9, 2025 Label: Adhyâropa Records
In Their Words: “‘Basically a Blues’ takes the standard chords used in a 12-bar blues and flips them upside down. All the well-known bluesy harmonies become diminished when doing this, and I found the sound to be fairly intriguing. I especially love the solos and trades that Max [Allard] and Jake [Jolliff] take over this quirky tune and have to give major kudos to Craig [Butterfield] who burns constant 8th notes for the duration.” – Jesse Jones, guitar
Track Credits: Jacob Jolliff – Mandolin Max Allard – Banjo Jesse Jones – Guitar, composer Craig Butterfield – Double bass
Meir Levine, “I Wish It Was Over”
Artist:Meir Levine Hometown: Upstate & Brooklyn, New York Song: “I Wish It Was Over” Album:Long & Lonely Highway Release Date: June 6, 2025 Label: First City Artists
In Their Words: “‘I Wish It Was Over’ came in one of those exceedingly rare moments, where I woke up one morning and the song was already fully formed in my head. The song covers a pretty simple message I think, about the things that we can’t seem to let go of, that we seek out just to feel something – even if it’s bad or harmful to us.” – Meir Levine
Track Credits: Meir Levine – Songwriter, vocals, guitars Andrew Freedman – Producer, piano, keyboards Will Graefe – Electric guitars, acoustic guitars Jeremy McDonald – Bass Mike Robinson – Pedal steel, guitars Jordan Rose – Drums
Lonesome River Band, “Blues”
Artist:Lonesome River Band Hometown: Floyd, Virginia Song: “Blues” Release Date: May 2, 2025 Label: Mountain Home Music Company
In Their Words: “We’ve all had the ‘Blues’ in our lives, but this Adam Wright song sees the ‘Blues’ in a whole different light. It’s a lighthearted break from the sad songs – one that we have a ton of fun with. Featuring our good friend Rod Riley on the Telecaster, it comes from our upcoming Telegrass project.” – Sammy Shelor
Track Credits: Sammy Shelor – Banjo, harmony vocal Jesse Smathers – Acoustic guitar, harmony vocal Mike Hartgrove – Fiddle Adam Miller – Mandolin, lead vocal Kameron Keller – Upright bass Rod Riley – Electric guitar
Julia Sanders, “Star Stickers”
Artist:Julia Sanders Hometown: Asheville, North Carolina Song: “Star Stickers” Album:Dark Matter Release Date: May 16, 2025
In Their Words: “Usually my songwriting process is the same. I start with a melody and then lyrics start to unfold as the idea of the song becomes more distilled. With this one, the chorus came lyrics, melody, and all, as I was laying in bed getting my daughter to sleep one night. I had been asking myself, ‘What am I avoiding writing about?’ and maybe more than any other theme, was my challenging and painful relationship with my own mother. My mother struggled with mental health her whole life and in her own pain, she hurt those around her. Just before I started working on this album, she was diagnosed with ALS. Her physical decline was very quick and heartbreaking. The grief was heavy, complicated, and messy. Lying in my daughter’s bed that night, watching the yellow-green glow of star stickers on the ceiling, I felt like I was time-traveling – to my own childhood bedroom, needing my mother to be different than she could be, then back to this room, trying hard to be a different kind of mother for my own children, and then to the future, where nothing is known except that none of this lasts.” – Julia Sanders
Track Credits: Julia Sanders – Vocals, songwriter John James Tourville – Guitar Steve Earnest – Baritone guitar Landon George – Bass Bryce Alberghini – Drums
Video Credit: Ashlyn McKibben
Thompson the Fox, “Foxology”
Artist:Thompson the Fox Hometown: Tokyo, Japan Song: “Foxology” Album:The Fox In Tiger’s Clothing, vol. 1: FOX Release Date: May 3, 2025 Label: Prefab Records
In Their Words: “We’re a Tokyo-based instrumental quartet with a unique lineup – xylophone, banjo, bass, and drums. Each member comes from a different musical background: Rie Koyama (xylophone) from classical music, Tomohito Yoshijima (drums) from jazz, and Akihide Teshima (bass) and I (banjo) from bluegrass.
“Writing tunes for such an unconventional instrumentation always feels like an experiment. I’ve long had the idea that the rapid melodic lines and complex syncopation of bebop would suit the xylophone and banjo. So I wrote this tune with strong influences from Charlie Parker – which is why I named it ‘Foxology.’
“It was a lot of fun coming up with the A section melody that can be played in melodic style on the banjo, so is the B section featuring a double-stop chromatic scale played on the xylophone with four mallets. We hope you enjoy our new album!” – Takumi Kodera, banjo
Patience and persistence have long been traits embodied by the music and songwriting of Kristina Murray, but with her new album, Little Blue, she can add another “P” word to the mix: perseverance.
Now a decade into her time in Nashville, Little Blue (out May 9 on New West Records) is poised to be her “ten year town” breakout moment. Through its blend of old school country twang and swampy southern R&B she ruminates on everything from the grind, pursuing her honky-tonk dream, to finding love, and the unseen burdens placed on women. She shows off her formidable knack for storytelling in the process. The project is also direct evidence of the inroads she’s made in Music City, with artists like Erin Rae, Logan Ledger, Sean Thompson, Miss Tess, Frank Rische, and John Mailander all lending a hand.
Originally from Atlanta, Murray was introduced to country as a child via a cassette of Patsy Cline’s greatest hits in her mother’s car. She eventually got her first guitar in high school, but didn’t play it anywhere outside of open mics and church camps until she moved to Colorado in the mid 2000s to pursue a degree in recreational therapy. While there, she became immersed in the regional bluegrass scene and began playing out more, slowly gaining confidence and building toward her eventual move to Nashville in 2014. While she was only in Colorado for six years, Murray still looks back on her time out west as foundational for her direction in life and the art she’s pursuing now.
“I’d never lived outside the South before and had a couple mentors of mine tell me I should give it a try for a little bit,” recalls Murray. “It was out there where I realized that being a musician is what I wanted to do with my life. Once you get bit by the playing-on-stage bug, there’s no going back. It’s so much more than just playing for people, too. It’s also being in sync with your band and performing at a high level and the energy feedback loop that can come from that.”
Since relocating to Nashville, Murray has become a linchpin of the city’s dive bar and juke joint scene, frequently popping up at places like Dee’s Country Cocktail Lounge and Bobby’s Idle Hour, and became one of the first women to front a full band at Santa’s Pub. But despite all this, she was starting to feel stuck as the pressure of things like her father’s sudden death, car wrecks, watching others have the success she’d been waiting on began to weigh her down. But in that darkness she was able to find a glimmer of light, and Little Blue was born.
Leading up to the album’s release, Good Country caught up with Murray to discuss imposter syndrome, expectations in the music business, the healing power of music, and more.
If going from open mics and church camps in Georgia to diving into Colorado’s bluegrass scene was a big step, then moving from there to Nashville must’ve felt like being on another planet. What was that transition like?
Kristina Murray: My time in Colorado was foundational in some ways. I learned the Nashville number system, how to play with a band, and how to execute a bunch of different songs really well while I was there. But, eventually, it got to being a big fish, small pond kind of thing. You can make a living out there just by playing cover songs in bars, but what I wanted was to write songs and be around people my age who were also writing the kind of songs I like, wanted to listen to, and wanted to write. Moving there was a big step because Nashville is the place where the music I love was and is still being made.
You’ve been grinding away in Nashville for a decade now as an independent musician, but this new record marks your debut with New West. How’d that partnership come about?
Southern Ambrosia [was] the first record I put out after moving to Nashville and, quite frankly, I didn’t know what I was doing. I had seen a lot of my peers kind of take off and naively I thought, “Well, this is a really good record full of great players and good writing and I’m in this kind of circle community; because all those things are true, then this record should get me to the next place that I wanted to go.”
It was actually on the radar of Normaltown and New West back in 2018, but things fizzled out because I didn’t know how to go about having conversations with business people about my music – I’d never done anything like that before. Fast forward a few years, this record was done in 2023 and by early 2024 I was talking with them again about picking it up. Their support means a lot, because it’s really difficult to get your record and your career to the places that you want to go without it.
New West and Normaltown are also based out of Athens, Georgia, and I’m from Atlanta, so it means a lot to be involved with them on that level as well. I was a huge Drive-By Truckers fan in my 20s and can’t get enough of Jaime Wyatt, Lilly Hiatt, Nikki Lane and others. There’s just a lot of people that I love and respect on that record label and I’m happy to be a part of the family.
Better late than never, I suppose! You just mentioned the feedback for Southern Ambrosia not meeting the lofty expectations you had for it. I imagine seeing friends and colleagues having success with their music – from signing with labels to getting on bigger and bigger shows to nailing down high-profile writing sessions – doesn’t help to keep the imposter syndrome at bay.
It’s funny, because during my decade in Nashville I really have seen so many people just skyrocket, and it’s all been so deserved, like Erin Rae – nobody sings or writes like her – or Sierra Ferrell, I mean who else sings like that? Logan Ledger, who also joins me on this record, is one of my favorite singers and songwriters around. During my time here there’s been so many times when I’ve thought that something must be wrong with the way I sing or write to not be getting all those opportunities for myself. But I’ve come to realize that having all that isn’t what will validate me as a musician, writer, performer, and person who simply loves this music, because at the end of the day, if I still get something out of it, shouldn’t that be enough? It’s something I’ve grappled with a lot through the years and continue to do on this album.
Speaking of expectations in the music business not always being reality and the illusion of success, are those things you’re tackling head on in the song “Watchin’ the World Pass Me By”?
What’s funny about that song is it started out as me just trying to see if I could write a basic “outlaw” country song. It obviously evolved a bit from a writing exercise parody to a commentary on getting “so tired of watching ‘em livin’ my dreams” and “daddy’s bankroll to make the rules” nepotism and suddenly being a country singer, because you threw on a cowboy hat. But I also poke a bit of fun at myself, too, with lines like “She’s just a bitter, jaded, helpless fool.”
Another tune I’ve really enjoyed is “Phenix City.” In many ways it seems like an outlier on the record, a story song amid a sea of deeply personal, autobiographical tales. With that in mind, what was your intention for including it here?
Most of this record is autobiographical or composite sketches of me and those around me, but that one specifically is a story song. It very much paints a picture of small-town circumstances in Phenix City, a small town in Alabama along the Georgia border. One time I was driving down to a gig in Columbus, Georgia, and instead of going through Atlanta I decided to head straight down from Nashville through Alabama. I rented a car because my van was out of commission, and about a half hour outside Columbus I broke down after running out of gas because I had my music so loud I couldn’t hear it beeping. I eventually got it to a mechanic shop in Phenix City where the man told me I just needed some gas, which was both a relief and a moment that made me feel like the biggest idiot around, but briefly getting stuck there did inspire the song in a roundabout way.
Similar to “Phenix City,” another outlier of sorts on Little Blue is the lead track, “You Got Me,” which seems to revolve around the early, butterflies-fueled stages of love. Mind telling me a bit about it and the mood it sets for the remainder of the project?
I’m not one for writing love songs too much. The only other real love song I have is “The Ballad Of Angel & Donnie” from Southern Ambrosia, which is another story song about a meth dealer and his girlfriend. I wrote “You Got Me” early on in my relationship with my now-partner. It’s a very true-to-life song and I knew if it was going to be about him that it had to be a really cool-sounding song. My guitarist, James Paul Mitchell, came over one night when I was writing it and helped to come up with that signature lick you hear on it right at the beginning, which I loved. I really wanted it to be like a Band song with the Clavinet sounds that they twin throughout the song. My partner, Corey [Parsons], also plays percussion on this one, which is really sweet that he got to put some of his touch on a song about him.
The song also starts with the word “and,” which came from a writing exercise after listening to Robert Johnson’s “Love in Vain.” It begins with “And I followed her to the station.” I thought it was so cool to start a song with “and,” because it’s like you’re just dropping someone into the middle of a story.
While “You Got Me” is a bright spot, a lot of this album leans more toward the somber and dark. What are your thoughts on the catharsis and healing that can come from writing through difficult times such as the ones you’re encountering here?
The album is titled Little Blue for a reason. We are remiss to forget how significant the pandemic was and how devastatingly sad that period of time in our collective human history was. A good chunk of these songs were written during that two-year period along with general ruminations about the sad and unjust world we live in that even the music industry isn’t immune from. It feels silly at times to whine and cry about the music industry when there’s so much other crazy stuff happening, but that’s the world I live in so I have to write through that.
I wouldn’t say that writing songs is cathartic for me as much as sharing in the collective. What grabs me about music is when it feels real and is relatable to me and I hope that I’ve done that here with what I’ve written about. Music is magical, so the fact that I get to do this at all is amazing and continues to drive me. I’m never not going to be amazed by music. For instance, I took a harmonica lesson the other day with Ilya Portnov, who also plays on the record. I’ve done a little bit of Bob Dylan-esque singer-songwriter harmonica, but I really wanted to understand the harp a little bit better. It’s a magical feeling when the music and notes and scale are all working together. I feel endlessly humbled by it and very proud that I get to be a small ripple in the river of music.
What did the process of bringing Little Blue to life teach you about yourself?
That I’m gonna keep doing it regardless of if it makes any sense at all. I didn’t get my record deal until after everything for this album was done, meaning that I funded it all myself. It was a lot to handle, because making records isn’t cheap, especially if you’re paying people what they deserve to get paid. I feel very lucky and grateful for all the folks that lended their talent to this record. It made me realize that the more I keep pushing ahead to more everything will begin to make sense around me. It’s a mix of perseverance and understanding that good things take time and intention. I feel really good about this record and even though it’s only my third, and first in six years, I’m glad to put it out in the world because we need art now more than ever.
Mary Gauthier and Jaimee Harris talk to Lizzie and Cindy for Basic Folk onboard the Cayamo cruise in front of a live audience. We get down to business in addressing nice things by asking Mary what kind of shoes she’s wearing – as she has a reputation for enjoying the good stuff, especially on her feet. After that, we asked and Jaimee enthusiastically answered the age-old question: What is the correct number of shoes to bring on tour? They generously share about their relationship, which began two years after they met as teacher (Mary) and student (Jaimee) in a songwriting workshop. Interestingly enough, both Harris and Gauthier have been playing music for about the same amount of time, despite their age difference. Jaimee, mid 30s, and Mary, early 60s, are also both sober and expand on what it’s like to be students of their own patterns.
We also talk about their touring life, songwriting processes, and the alchemy of transforming personal trauma into art. We get to hear the very cute story of how Jaimee first heard of Mary Gauthier, by way of Ray Waylie Hubbard’s song “Name Dropping.” Mary, in turn, talks about her first impressions of Jaimee’s songwriting (spoiler alert: she was completely floored). They share their future plans with us, where they say there will be a Harris-Gauthier album, right after Jaimee completes the three records in her head and Mary writes her second book. They also share what it’s been like when they are together and around people who know Mary (who has a higher profile in the Americana world), but don’t know Jaimee. Each comment that they feel for partners in relationships with people who are “actually famous.”
We end with a great Lightning Round, a game we like to play with partners called “Which One.” We think they might have enjoyed that, because on the last day of the cruise Mary, getting off the boat, shouted, “Thanks for the interview! The Lightning Round was a real moment!!”
Valerie June’s new album – Owls, Omens, and Oracles (released on April 11 by Concord Records) – begins with a snare and a hi-hat. A simple, straight-forward rhythm. Something to wrest you from your chair and get you moving your body.
After a few bars, her distinct, earnest, energetic vocals enter and it feels as though you’re surrounded by a circle of Valerie Junes singing in delightful unison. Urging you on. It’s just her voice and the drum for thirty-five seconds, then she lands on the word “joy” and the whole song bursts open with a distorted guitar and so many cymbals.
Like the “Joy, Joy” for which the song is titled, sound layers build and build, rippling out further and further until it all fades. By then, you’re well into the room. The colors are swirling. There seems to be joy and love hanging from the chandeliers. If you close your eyes, perhaps you can imagine the colors bursting forth from the guitar when it finally takes a solo.
Indeed, whether or not you experience synesthesia – a condition some musicians report where they associate sound and color – there is something undeniably colorful about the music June puts into the world. This is as true as ever on the new disc, which feels even more focused on joy’s pursuit and on holding joy aloft once it is within one’s grasp.
The celebrated poet and activist adrienne maree brown, who wrote June’s promotional bio for the project, notes: “This album is a radical statement to break with the skepticism, surveillance, and doom scrolling – let yourself celebrate your aliveness. Connect, weep, change, open.”
Indeed, connecting and weeping – through joy and heartache alike – is central to June’s artistic journey. This notion, that her music might be urging its listeners to celebrate aliveness, is particularly resonant on Owls. After all, June, who divides her time between Tennessee and New York, is a certified yoga teacher and mindfulness meditation instructor. One might extrapolate, then, that music, for Valerie June, is equal parts connective tissue and spiritual experience.
“No one who makes music can truly tell you where it comes from,” she said on a recent Zoom call. “We don’t know where we’re getting it from. It’s coming from someplace and I like to think that place is magical.”
Similarly, she adds, “Spirit is something that we don’t really know. We can’t really – exactly – put our finger on where it’s coming from. We just feel it. … I think that it’s a very spiritual thing to make music. It’s not necessarily religious, but it is definitely spiritual. It will connect you to a deeper part of yourself, but it will also connect you to deeper parts of other people – and to nature.”
Across her six albums in nearly twenty years, June has sung about nature plenty. The night sky, the creatures of the forest. From her rendition of a classic, “The Crawdad Song,” (2006’s The Way of the Weeping Willow) to the eagle and rooster in “You Can’t Be Told” (2013’s Pushin’ Against a Stone), to the “still waters” and “dormant seas” of “Stardust Scattering” (2021’s The Moon and the Stars: Prescriptions for Dreamers), June has turned to nature for solace, clarity, and metaphor.
Lately, though, she has been somewhat haunted by owls.
“In Tennessee,” she explains, “we have a pond behind the house and there’s a lot of wildlife. There’s muskrats and frogs and snakes and fish and all kinds [of animals]. We just went and bought like ten carp fish to go in the pond to help keep the algae down and stuff. But one morning, I was walking into the kitchen. I start my day with black tea and there’s mist on the pond in the morning, and so everything’s kind of like foggy. I’m making my tea. It’s like five o’clock in the morning and my eyes are all puffy. … There’s a window where you can see right across the pond and see this mist and everything, and there is an owl on this post of the fence on the far side. It’s just looking in at me, and I’m looking out at it.”
She and this same owl had a few more encounters after that initial one and June started thinking there was something to it. Whether it was a spirit visiting her on purpose, or just a magical coincidence that she and this creature were in the same place at the same time on a planet so full of people and creatures, there was something to this brief, recurring coexistence.
While June admits she never sits down on purpose to write a song – she opens to them and they come – the owl started to worm its way into her periphery while she was writing. She started reading everything she could find about owls, learning about their habits and idiosyncrasies. She felt like she was harnessing some owl energy as she captured the melodies that would make up this album.
“You can listen to the old blues songs,” she explains, “and you will hear about the black snake, or about the mojo, or different things like that. There’s magic in the music, if you ask me. I … enjoy being a root worker and understanding that music can shift moods. It has that power. It can start movements. It can energize people or make them feel so tender that they’re able to cry when they need to.
“I definitely feel like I work with those energies. I don’t just sing, you know. Because, I mean, there’s a lot of singers who have more beautiful-sounding voices than me. I’m weaving spells.”
Indeed, June’s spells weave their way through Owls.
One moment, she’s turning off the news to remember we’re all indelibly connected “like branches of an endless tree” (“Endless Tree”). Then, she’s breathing through doubt with “Trust the Path,” a quiet, echoic piano song that sounds like it blew in on a breeze. There’s the spoken word piece, “Superpower,” with its meditative background and dreamlike soundscape built atop her voice and producer M. Ward’s guitar, among other things. Suddenly June is clawhammering a banjo and singing about misguided love (“My Life Is a Country Song”). And finally, there’s the folky earworm song “Love and Let Go,” with its horns and piano and layered unison vocals.
The album starts with joy and ends with acceptance – which is part of joy. Though it weaves through different styles and soundscapes, there is this throughline of keeping to the path, trusting the light, sourcing the joy.
Most of this is due to June’s songwriting and performance, of course. But at least some of it can be credited to her producer Ward – the chameleon-like guitarist and singer-songwriter who has produced for and collaborated with a who’s who of indie artists. As for her experience with this particular collaboration, June doesn’t hold back when lavishing Ward with praise.
“It was kind of the most amazing experience I’ve had in making records,” she says.
“He can play anything. He’s on the vibraphones. He’s on the keys. He’s on the guitar. I mean. … [For him,] whatever genre a song wants to be is what a song is and at the end of the day I enjoy rocking out. I like turning up my electric guitar and my amp and just going crazy with this kind of like a dirty blues-rock sound. And him – he got the best tones and sounds in his guitar playing.”
The pair first decided to make a record together when they crossed paths at Newport Folk Festival. June noticed that they were on the schedule for the same day, so she texted Ward and he invited her up to sing with him.
“When I got offstage, after watching him play that blues-rock like just a genius, [my] jaw [was] on the floor. Like, that was amazing. It was just him solo, too, with like three or four different guitars up there. So I said, ‘Well, when are we gonna make this record we’ve been talking about making?’”
Two months later, they crossed paths again, this time at San Francisco’s Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival. “We were on the same day again, so auspicious,” she remembers. “And so we worked together there. He said, ‘Okay, we have to make this happen now. We’ve seen each other two times in one year.’”
Before another year passed, they were in the studio, running with the genre-defiant sounds that were pouring out of June’s magic mind.
The phrase June used to employ for describing her music was “organic moonshine roots” – a description she’s stopped using since her friend who coined it passed away. Meanwhile, her life has taken on its own metamorphoses. She has found and lost love, has branched out in new directions, has pulled in guitar, ukulele, and banjo. She has made music with artists as variant as the Avett Brothers and Blind Boys of Alabama (the latter appear in the background on Owls). When not on the road, she hosts meditation retreats and teaches mindfulness at places like the Kripalu Center for Yoga and Health in the Berkshires. She writes poetry and has published a picture book for children.
Naturally, all of this has fed her appetite for melody and it’s all added to the tapestry of sound that defines her music. There is country in there, for sure. Also some semblance of jazz, R&B, pop, and just plain individualistic, raw grit. This time around, on Owls, Omens, and Oracles, genre seems like a silly thing to even try to pin down.
During a SXSW interview in 2023, writer Wajahat Ali asked June about the ineffability of her style and she didn’t hesitate. “It’s Valerie June music,” she told him. “I’m a singer-songwriter and whatever comes out, comes out. Sometimes it is honey, sometimes it’s vinegar.”
Sometimes it’s black tea and mist on a pond, crickets chirping and muskrats scattering, an owl standing still on a post, blinking its eyes as you stand there blinking yours. It’s a reminder of what truly matters.
To June, what matters is everything.
“Are you ready to see a world where we can all be free?” she asks. “I’m ready to see a world where we can learn to disagree with each other and still live together peacefully.”
“We’re ready to see this world be a place of togetherness,” she adds later. Learning to cooperate, she says, is “not just important for humans. It’s important for all of nature. … Nature will be okay, of course, without us. But it would be nice if we could figure out ways to move toward a more cooperative existence with all [things] in nature.”
The dynamic songwriter and multi-instrumentalist Susan Werner spoke to Basic Folk onboard the Cayamo cruise, which she describes as a “paid vacation.” Reflecting on her upbringing on a working farm, Susan discusses the hard work that shaped her, but also how she’s learning to embrace rest and relaxation. With humor and insight, she navigates the balance between a hardworking mindset and the need for downtime, revealing her strategies for managing stress and expectations in both life and music.
Susan’s latest album, Halfway to Houston, is a continuation of her exploration of a place through its music. Previous releases found her examining New Orleans and Florida. In this particular case, she is focusing on the state of Texas, including the interconnectedness of communities across borders; the song “Sisters” is about twin sister cities El Paso, Texas, and Juárez, Mexico. As a seasoned artist, Susan dives into the importance of consistency and authenticity in her craft, emphasizing that hard work alone doesn’t guarantee success – it’s about being consistently excellent. She also touches on the political landscape and how her songs aim to foster empathy and understanding, even in divided times.
Photo Credit: Lead image by Bryan Lasky, alternate image by Will Byington.
After a three-year run with revered bluegrass troupe Old Crow Medicine Show, Mason Via is breaking off on his own and returning to his roots on his new self-titled, 10-song album.
Out April 25 via Mountain Fever Records, the record finds Via toeing the line between the worlds of old-time and progressive bluegrass with hints of jamgrass mixed in, no doubt an homage to his father, revered picker David Via. Via initially presented nearly 100 songs for consideration to producer Aaron Ramsey – among them a bevy of solo cuts, along with co-writes from the likes of Boy Named Banjo’s Barton Davies, and Christian Ward, the newly minted fiddler for the Del McCoury Band and the Travelin’ McCourys – before whittling the material down to a fraction of that to actually record.
The resulting songs serve as a continuation of what fans heard from Via with Old Crow, particularly the band’s 2023 album Jubilee, where he wrote or co-wrote seven of the 12 tracks – including “Allegheny Lullaby,” “I Want It Now,” and “Belle Meade Cockfight.” According to Via, many of these new songs were even written with Old Crow in mind before he made the decision to step away and release them under his own name.
“This is an album full of stuff that, for the most part, I wanted to do while I was in Old Crow but never got around to,” Via tells BGS. “That being said, I was excited to get to put them on my album because these tunes are a deep dive into who I am as a songwriter from my time spent living in Nashville.”
Ahead of the album’s release and amid a run of shows through the Midwest and Southeast with Logan Ledger, Via spoke with BGS by phone about his path to Old Crow Medicine show, how a Virginia festival changed his entire career trajectory, how he came to love co-writing after moving to Nashville, and more.
You were joined by a trio of bluegrass royalty – Rhonda Vincent, Junior Sisk, and Ronnie Bowman – on the songs “Oh Lordy Me” and “Mountain Lullaby.” What did it mean to you having them join you on those songs?
Mason Via: It was very validating, because I’ve always felt that I circled around bluegrass and navigated on the outskirts or fringe of it, so to have those torchbearers of the genre sign off on this meant a lot. I didn’t know Rhonda as well, but Junior and Ronnie are old family friends. I hate when artists have other people as features, but they’re not really featured – it defeats the purpose of it all. Because of that I really wanted to go out of the way to showcase everyone. For instance, on “Oh Lordy Me” we all take turns singing lead on verses before coming together for the chorus [with Bowman and Sisk], whereas “Mountain Lullaby” is trio harmonies the whole way through [with Bowman and Vincent].
You mentioned Junior and Ronnie being old family friends. Is that a connection through your father, who was a bluegrass picker himself?
It is, they all go way back. They used to have big pickin’ parties every Tuesday at dad’s house in Dry Pond, Virginia, that they called The Blue Room. They’d pick all day and night, with the last person left awake taking home the coveted Bluegrass Buddy Belt, a WWE-style belt, for bragging rights.
In addition to growing up around them, Ronnie also cut a couple of my dad’s songs and Junior was often around Galax and the fiddlers conventions I grew up going to, which the song “Oh Lordy Me” is sort of an homage to.
Speaking of home, you returned to Floyd, Virginia, to record this new album. After spending time in Nashville in recent years, what made you want to go back there?
Floyd is about an hour from where I grew up. I remember going to the Floyd Country Store when I was younger and playing up there and it being like a little mountain getaway, which is exactly what going back to the area to record felt like. It was a bit more secluded than when I recorded in Nashville and elsewhere previously, which forced all of us – myself, producer Aaron Ramsey and all the players – to be in it all the way from start to finish.
However, people will soon be able to hear those different approaches when I release alternate versions of a few of the songs on this album that I recorded in Nashville before this bluegrass record deal happened. Two of them, “Falling” and “Melting the Sun,” are psychedelic indie rock ‘n’ roll – think War On Drugs meets the Foo Fighters – whereas “Hey Don’t Go” is one I released alongside my departure from Old Crow with pedal steel, drums, keys, and electric guitar. We also recorded a version of “Wide Open” with similar arrangements in the same session that we’ll be releasing soon as well.
Sounds like we have a lot to look forward to!
Sticking on the topic of Floyd, I remember seeing you for the first time at FloydFest in 2019 with your band, Hot Trail Mix, which finished runner-up at the gathering’s On-The-Rise band competition that year. What has that moment – and the festival in general – meant to your music career and trajectory?
I’d just gotten out of college and was working as a substitute teacher at a military academy when the opportunity to perform in the FloydFest competition came about. I grew up going to the festival, so finishing runner-up and getting invited back to play the main stage was a moment where I started to realize I should take this more seriously. Since the next year was 2020 that show never happened, so my next time back at FloydFest was actually in 2021 when I played the main stage on Saturday night with Old Crow.
So the festival played a role in you linking up with Old Crow then. How did that opportunity come about?
Ashby Frank, a great bluegrass musician, suggested me to Donica Elliott, who worked with the band at the time, who then passed my information onto Ketch [Secor]. Eventually I got a call from him asking to come audition, so a couple weeks later I drove out there for a casual jam session where we played a bunch of old-time pickin’ tunes from fiddlers conventions with a couple of Old Crow’s songs sprinkled in. I came back and did the same thing the next day followed by [going to] Ketch’s house the day after to help move some furniture, which led to us writing the song “I Want It Now” [from Old Crow’s 2023 album, Jubilee]. I wound up getting the gig and next thing I know we’re recording an album. Even my first gig with them was the Grand Ole Opry – I was thrown into the fire, but loved every minute of it!
I had a great run with Old Crow, but the big reason for leaving the band was to pursue this album, because unfortunately you can’t do both. It feels a little like starting over, but I couldn’t be happier with where I am now. And who knows, 10 years from now I could be back in the band – the world is very cyclical like that. I saw Chance McCoy is back with them and they’ve been touring with Willie [Watson] again, which got me thinking about how the band is an ever-changing cast. We left on pretty amicable terms, so I think there’s definitely room for potential collaboration or a reunion in the future.
During your three-year run with Old Crow, what’s the biggest piece of music-related advice you learned from them?
I like to tell people that I think of my time with Old Crow as getting a Master’s degree in music. They taught me that you don’t need to play the craziest solo in the world or sing the wildest riff, you just need to be distinctly, uniquely you. I’ve been trying to lean into that more in my new material including this new album, which I think is some of my most personal material yet.
I know one thing you started doing a lot more with Old Crow that’s a regular part of your repertoire now is co-writing. What’s it been like opening yourself up to more of those opportunities lately?
When I first moved to Nashville, I’d never really co-written before, but when you get here you realize really quickly that that’s a huge part of the community there, similar to jamming with your buddies. It’s a great way to connect with friends and something I really enjoy because you don’t always get to do something like that on such a deep level. I’m also a very ADD type of person so I love the aspect of being intentional with your time and what you hope to create within it like that.
One of the people you co-wrote for this record with was Zach John King, who you first met in 2021 during your stint on American Idol. Tell me a little about your partnership with him that led to your songs “Wide Open” and “Fireball.”
We were set up to have a conversation together on camera for the show. That’s how we were first introduced and we’ve since gone on to become buddies long after Idol. When I got the Old Crow gig he reached out and said he was thinking of moving to Nashville and if he could stop by to ask me some questions about my journey and the process of going from American Idol to what I’m doing now. I was a mentor there for a second, but now it’s the other way around since he just signed a deal with Sony Music Nashville [in January]. He’s already got some songs doing well in the pop country world and is really about to take off. Connections like the one with Zach are reminders of just how small the music industry really is.
What do you hope people take away from listening to this collection of songs?
Every song is its own kaleidoscopic spectrum of emotions that I’ve felt in one way or another. I hope you can laugh and cry and dance and feel every emotion the whole way through, which I think is a trademark of a good album or show. Pairing those emotions with the feeling of what it was like for me growing up in the Blue Ridge Mountains with all my influences, from rock and roll to country or the string band music that was always present during my raising, was a special experience and something I hope folks enjoy listening to over and over again.
What has music, specifically the process of bringing this new album to life, taught you about yourself?
I love how [music] takes you places, it makes you feel like an astronaut or something. You get to travel to different worlds, get outside yourself and figure out who you are. Each song is like its own barn quilt that showcases the different patchwork that holds a place in my heart.
Jaimee Harris is a thoughtful songwriter, a kind and quirky human, and an insightful individual. It was an honor to speak with her about her upcoming tour, the inspiration behind her songs, and how she takes care of her mental health in a demanding industry. Our conversation touches on everything from her daily routine – right down to crafting the perfect cup of coffee each morning – to how she stays grounded on the road, to the process behind her songwriting.
We dive into her haunting song, “Orange Avenue,” written about the tragic shooting at the Pulse LGBTQ+ nightclub in Orlando, Florida – a thoughtful and chilling track. We also explore the details of the title track of her 2023 album, Boomerang Town, a story song rooted in both fact and fiction. It follows intriguing characters with intricate pasts, the restless ache to escape small-town limits and achieve something big, and the soul-crushing realities of a harsh world.
I hope you can feel Jaimee’s humor, intellect, and warmth through this interview.
You have four months of touring coming up. You’re playing shows across the U.S. and you’re also headlining a tour in the Netherlands and Belgium. How does all of that feel and what are you most excited and anxious about?
Jaimee Harris: Mary [Gauthier] and I just got home from being on this incredible thing called Cayamo, which is like a floating music festival on a cruise ship. We were on that boat for seven or eight days and just got home last night. We leave again this weekend for tour. So I’m trying to pretend I’m not home right now. Because if I switch into this mentality of, “I’m home now,” then that just disrupts the system. So I’m looking at this week as if I’m still on the road. With just like a couple days off.
I’m so excited about touring the Netherlands. It’s one of my favorite places to play. It’s one of my favorite places to be. I love the people there. I love the culture there. And it’s been cool because I’ve been over there many times as an opening act, but I’ve never done my whole set there. And it’s been my experience that the people in the Netherlands can really handle and really enjoy the dark songs.
How do you find constantly being on the road? And, how do you balance that with mental health?
Well, I’ve learned that I need to have a couple of things in place to make me feel comfortable and it doesn’t take much, but one of them that is so important to me is my coffee, which might seem silly. But there’s this coffee I love from Austin, it’s called Third Coast, and Mary Gauthier, my partner, used to run restaurants in Boston and one of the only things she kept from her restaurants when she sold them to move to Nashville to become a songwriter is this industrial coffee grinder.
Every morning we grind it and make espresso and that’s like a huge part of my joy. And we bring it on the road with us. I bring a little kettle and my Hydro Flask, I’m a Hydro Flask girl.
Me too! Mine is right here! [Pulls up Hydro Flask]
Amazing! I love them so much. So the water bottle is a huge deal on the road.
Every morning when I start my day with that coffee, it sets me up for success. Having a little bit of routine to keep me tethered to something while we’re on the road is really helpful. I’ve found that I can always find 15 minutes throughout the day to move my body. Making that a priority for me helps everything while I’m on the road. I love being on the road. Today, since we just got home yesterday, I’ve just been on the couch all day. Re-entry is always hard for me. So today I’m just watching movies and being a weirdo on the couch.
Could you tell us about your recent interactions with Emmylou Harris?
I think coming off this thing we just did on the boat was incredible and Emmylou Harris is my number one hero of all time.
Her guitar tech, Maple Byrne, gave us a heads up a few weeks ago that Emmy might want me to play guitar and sing with her for this [songwriters] round we were in. I literally was driving a car in the Hill Country in Texas and I had to pull the car over and scream. I was like, “There’s no way! That’s my number one hero!” And I didn’t even believe it was gonna happen until it happened.
Earlier that day [during Cayamo], I played a show as me on the boat. Twenty minutes before I played, security walked Emmylou Harris and her friend to my show. I literally had to run to the bathroom! I was like, “I’m gonna be sick. I can’t handle this. This is crazy! THIS IS CRAZY!” I literally forgot the first two lines of the first song, because I was so in shock. I just couldn’t believe that happened and then I got to play with her later that afternoon. My wildest dreams have come true!
You’ve mentioned Mary a little bit. What has it been like for you to find a partner, Mary Gauthier, who is both a partner in life and also a partner in music, playing shows and touring together?
It’s been incredible. I have learned so much from her about what it is to be a troubadour from the business side of things. She’s so wise, because she came to music after running three restaurants. She has a lot of business experience that she’s been able to apply to the world of being a troubadour, which is incredible. She’s been able to do what she does inside her own integrity in a way that’s really beautiful to learn from. And I get to live in a house with one of the greatest living songwriters. I truly think she’s one of the greatest songwriters of all time, and it’s made me a better writer. Just getting to watch her, how hard she works on songs. She is a real hard worker. I mean, she’s got a lot of natural talent, but she chisels and chisels and chisels songs out of the marble. And so it’s made me up my editing game.
Your song “Boomerang Town” is so beautiful and relatable and intimate; it’s a story-song format. How did you come up with the idea for “Boomerang Town” and what does that song mean to you?
It came in different stages. I’d always wanted to write a song about where I grew up. I’m from a small town just outside of Waco, Texas. I remember being in my early twenties and trying to explain to people where I grew up and I came up with the phrase, “It’s a boomerang town.” People try to leave, they end up going back there pretty quick. That phrase had been in my mind for a while.
In 2017, I got asked if I wanted to sing a verse of “This Land Is Your Land” during this 4th of July celebration. The songwriter hosting the song said, “What verse do you want?” I said I want the steeple verse. The verse is: “In the shadow of the steeple, I saw my people/ By the relief office, I saw my people/ They stood there hungry, and so I stood there asking/ Was this land made for you and me?” In my hometown, there’s an interstate, I-35, that runs through the center of it and on the east side of that interstate there’s a steeple from the Truett Seminary in town and on the west side there are two relief offices. The interstate creates a bridge and there’s been a community of people living under that bridge for decades, like my entire life.
When I saw those words, I saw my hometown. The songwriter said, “I always thought Woody got it wrong with that verse.” I couldn’t believe that he would have such a different take on that verse; that planted a little seed for me. I worked on that song for years. I tried a bunch of different perspectives. I initially started with myself and I couldn’t find a way for the song to move forward if I was the narrator. I tried it from the perspective of a veteran. Then I tried it from the perspective of a woman who worked at a cafe. I decided her name was going to be Julie, because I’m a huge fan of Buddy and Julie Miller. I finally landed on the perspective of the 17-year-old boy who worked at Walmart that knocked up his girlfriend. Which is a combination of me when I worked at Walmart and somebody else I knew. That’s when the story started to take off.
I’ve had so many experiences where people came up to me and said, “Hey, you got that song perfectly right.” Like, “My brother died under that bridge, I know all about that scene.”
Also, being a woman from Texas, with the way things are going there – nationally and politically, that song, how it ends, has a way deeper impact than I could have imagined when I wrote it in 2020. The choices women had in 2020 are more than we have now in 2025. There’s no way I could have known that when I was writing it.
You’ve just passed 11 years of sobriety. Is there anything that you’d like to share about your sobriety, your support system, and addiction in general?
Well, I couldn’t have done it without 12-step recovery. I’m very active in 12-step recovery. That’s been my lifeboat, doing it with other people. Someone in recovery said this thing that has stuck with me: “At five years, you get your marbles back. And at 10 years, you get to play with them again.” I feel like that’s true. I’m learning every day.
I remember when I first got into recovery, people would say this thing that I could not understand, “I’m so grateful to be an alcoholic.” When I got there, it was through the criminal justice system, so I was going there to get a paper signed. I was like, “What are these people talking about?” I can’t tell you how many times over the last six years I’ve said, “I’m so grateful, because I have a support system in a time when a lot of people feel really isolated.”
You spent some time in Florida in 2022 and you wrote a song called “Orange Avenue” about the 2016 shooting at the Pulse LGBT nightclub. What does this song mean to you, and what was the process of writing it?
I decided to visit a bunch of spots in Florida to collect stories and write and record a song in each town. I spent a month traveling the state. I wasn’t even gonna go to Pulse, and then somebody mentioned it and I said, “Okay, I’ll check that out.” Everything about it really floored me. I was imagining this bar being in an entertainment district, where there are a bunch of bars. It isn’t like that, it’s a neighborhood bar. So it’s just house, house, house, house, a Dunkin’ Donuts across the street, and then Pulse. Of course it was a gay bar, but it was also a bar that you could get into if you were 18 and up. So it’s also a place where younger kids could get in and just go dance and have a good time. Which is why the youngest girl that was killed was 18 years old. She was there on vacation with her family.
Now it’s been deemed a national monument. When I was there, it was kind of makeshift. There are pictures of people, notes to loved ones, poems, just all sorts of tributes. Then there’s this one kind of official-looking plaque. It has the names of 48 people that died in the shooting. To the side of it says at the request of a family, one name has been left off this list. I was wondering, what’s the story there? I looked it up and it turns out there was a man of Middle Eastern descent and his family didn’t know he was gay until he died in the shooting.
They were ashamed of that. It took quite a long time for anyone to agree to come pick up his body. That’s how deep the shame was. At the time, I believe the police chief of Orlando was a lesbian and because of the element of it being a neighborhood bar, because there were people that were there just because they could get in because of their age, they weren’t necessarily going to come out and say, “Hey, this was a hate crime.” When they found out that that family didn’t want to come pick up their family member, they said, “We have to tell the world that this was a gay bar. This was a hate crime.”
I tried the song from my perspective, but it didn’t really have the impact that it did until I put it in a perspective of that man and his ghost and what it would be like to embody that man’s experience. It was an honor to write that song.
(Editor’s Note: Thanks to our friends at Big Ears Festival, held at the end of March in Knoxville, Tennessee, we’re able to share these photos of revered folk icon Michael Hurley taken during what the world would later realize were two of his final performances, captured shortly before he passed on April 1, 2025.
To honor Hurley’s incredible legacy and his indelible impact on roots music, we’ve paired the photographs from Big Ears with a heartfelt remembrance by longtime Hurley acolyte and BGS contributor Dana Yewbank.
Our hearts go out to Michael Hurley’s friends, family, loved ones, and collaborators as we all grieve this humble-yet-towering figure in our corner of the music world; our gratitude goes out to Big Ears for sharing these intimate and lovely time capsule photographs.)
I first encountered Michael Hurley– the influential singer-songwriter who recently passed at the age of 83 – in a room painted like a 1960s rendering of a time machine. Big black-and-white spirals looped around the floor of the stage, awash in a moody, pink glow.
The show was at the Woodland Theater in Seattle, Washington, in 2018. I was there with friends – a ragtag group of fellow musicians who’d all been inspired by Hurley’s music in one way or another. My friend Bobby wore a shirt from Oakland’s Burger Boogaloo festival, which rings like the name of a Michael Hurley song that never was.
Michael Hurley performs for his official Big Ears appearance to a packed house at the Point in Knoxville, TN. Photo by Andy Feliu.
We got there early. In a performance space the size of a small café, Hurley was sitting in the corner next to the stage, quietly playing a worn piano. My friends and I exchanged looks of mild wonder, realizing we had walked in on something unexpectedly intimate. Quietly finding seats among the folding chairs, we soaked in the scene as the room filled up. Throughout the night, we interacted with Hurley in passing as if we were all just milling about someone’s living room. He attentively watched all the opening sets. Bobby showed him where the bathroom was. Hurley never acted like a living Americana legend, even though he was one.
Raised in Bucks County, Pennsylvania, and an eventual cultural fixture of Astoria, Oregon, Michael Hurley wrote and recorded surreal, folk-esque blues and Americana songs across seven decades. He also made comics, self-published several art zines, and made an unspeakable impression on the broad world of American folk music. He continued to perform up until his death, which came suddenly the day after his final performance. Michael Hurley spent his last evening on earth playing his timeless, effervescent songs at the AyurPrana Listening Room in Asheville, North Carolina.
Michael Hurley also wowed a small audience at a surprise Big Ears performance at Boyd’s Jig & Reel, a small Celtic pub. Photo by Joeleen Hubbard.
My doorway into the world of Michael Hurley was First Songs, a lo-fi collection of recordings published by Folkways in 1963. The songs on that album have a subtle, somber quality that’s harder to find on Hurley’s later, more jovial records. Listening, it feels like taking a long, slow walk through a deep forest at dusk. Less sunshine and laughter than Have Moicy! or Long Journey, but as a sad, confused 20-something, the mist and mystery of First Songs drew me in. “Animal Song” will always be the sound of being 24, reluctantly living back in my small Northwestern hometown, not far from the place Hurley would eventually call home.
But melancholia is far from what Michael Hurley became known for. Instead, his music is beloved for its surrealism, lightheartedness, and humor. Hurley sang about aliens, ghosts, werewolves, and potatoes. His songs abound with clever turns of phrase and humble imperfection, offering a sort of unselfconscious freedom to listener and musician alike.
That night at the show in Seattle, a 76-year-old Hurley played for an impressive two-and-a-half hours, never seeming to lose steam. He must have played through at least 50 songs by the end of the night, which doesn’t even touch the several hundred he wrote and recorded throughout his life.
The magical Michael Hurley, mid-surprise appearance at Boyd’s Jig & Reel. Photo by Joeleen Hubbard.
Despite being called the “godfather of freak folk,” Michael Hurley never fancied himself a folk musician. Most of his influences fit squarely in the world of jazz and blues: Lead Belly, Lightning Hopkins, Fats Waller. He even cited country songwriters like Hank Williams, but rarely any notable folk artists. His eclectic influences make sense: Hurley’s songs have an unpredictable liveliness to them. They jump and wander, following a path seemingly guided by Hurley’s creative intuition alone.
But when it came to how he approached his life and career, Hurley lived fully into the folk tradition. He made his own album art, released some of his own records, and toured with zero frills. He also had a salt-of-the-earth political ethos and didn’t shy away from using music as activism. In 2014, Hurley assembled a compilation of “anti-Monsanto songs” and released them for free on Bandcamp.
Michael Hurley performs at the Point at Big Ears Festival. Photo by Andy Feliu.
Hurley (or Elwood Snock, as he liked being called) was a musician of the people, only ever taking himself just seriously enough, unafraid of welcoming play and spontaneity into his work. His legacy has a lot to teach us about just how essential these qualities are to the creative process — because if making art isn’t a form of play, then what is it?
That unbridled, unbothered element makes Hurley’s music deeply comforting and grounding. It roils and pops like a low fire you can warm yourself by. It’s trustworthy and safe, emerging from the endless present moment, bubbling up like a fountain from which we can all drink.
Michael Hurley by Andy Feliu.
Honey, honey, honey, have you ever blowed bubbles underwater when you’re feeling bad? You let your lips begin a-buzzin’ the bubbles rush up like mad. Right there you’ve got somethin’ to help you out when you ain’t got nothin’ to brag about.
Hurley frequently collaborated with other artists – from his Unholy Modal Rounders to Marisa Anderson and Kassi Valazza – and he continued to make new connections well into his final years. Adrianne Lenker, who counted Hurley as a friend, recently credited him as one of the reasons Big Thief became a band, in a post memorializing Hurley on Instagram.
Michael Hurley’s red Harmony Roy Smeck guitar. Photo by Joeleen Hubbard.
Infinite rivulets flow out from Snock’s work, watering seeds of creativity wherever they go, rippling and rolling over the landscape much like Hurley did – from Jersey City to Vermont to Astoria.
Michael Hurley passed on April Fool’s Day, which is painfully fitting. He loved a good joke, taking things that might otherwise feel heavy and heartbreaking and peppering them with levity and brightness. Now, in his absence, we can let his songs buoy us through dark times, of which there are too many, and laugh alongside us in the light.
All photos courtesy of Big Ears, shot by Joeleen Hubbard and Andy Feliu as credited. Lead Image: Andy Feliu.
Originally from the village of Mutungo, Uganda (near the country’s capital of Kampala), Jon Muq‘s journey to his current life of touring with an Austin, Texas, home base has been unconventional. Onboard the Cayamo cruise earlier this year, we talked to Jon about his childhood experiences, including fetching water with friends and hearing “We Are the World,” which was the first Western music he ever experienced. He also recounts the emotional reunion with his twin sister at the Cambridge Folk Festival, revealing how distance from his family has shaped his identity as an artist. He had not seen her, his friends, or any family before that for many years due to leaving originally to work on a cruise ship (the same line we were cruising on!) and work visa realities.
Jon discusses the moment he first held a guitar at age 19, which felt like a natural fit. He shares how traditional Ugandan music influences his sound and how he began learning English through song before mastering the language. Jon speaks about his experience with food; growing up, his family was food insecure. When he started performing on cruise ships, he was overwhelmed by the amount of food available. He explained the ever-present googly-eyes on his guitar, which tie into learning about distinct cultural differences between America and Uganda. Like many countries, it is normal in Uganda for male friends to hold hands. This and many cultural differences were learned the hard way for Jon, so the eyes on the guitar symbolize an always smiling friend that will be there for him. He wraps up this episode of Basic Folk with a great lightning round giving us the inside scoop on the best food aboard Cayamo, his dream collaboration and, in his opinion as an industrial design student, what’s the most beautiful product in the world.
Photo Credit: Will Byington
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