Rose Cousins is nothing if not intentional. With her new album Conditions of Love – Vol 1 (out March 14), Cousins demonstrates a controlled discipline as she considers the most unruly of our emotions. The JUNO award-winning artist is a student of love, from the sweet certainty of “One Love” from her 2016 album If You Were For Me to the entirety of her 2017 masterpiece Natural Conclusion to “The Agreement,” a consideration of the liberties and drawbacks of a long-distance open relationship from her most recent prior full-length project, Bravado.
Over the years, Cousins has honed her approach to her craft as carefully as her music, even taking a five-year break between albums to recover from burn out and focus on songwriting over performance. That commitment to her art is just one small part of what has earned Cousins the recognition of being named BGS’ Artist of the Month.
Conditions kicks off with “To Be Born,” an instrumental channeling of the rural Prince Edward Island where Cousins grew up. Buzzing wonderment introduces us to a song cycle of love in all its forms: romantic, platonic, a sense of one-ness with the universe – and what causes them to grow and die. At the beginning of it all, Cousins tells us, is that sense of wondrous possibility.
“I Believe in Love (and it’s very hard)” harbors a desire that Cousins hinted in a 2012 interview with No Depression – a fascination with songs that are upbeat and poppy, but communicate something serious. The song is a catchy thesis statement for this album: that as much we depend on our bonds with others to survive, we crave our individual freedoms and yearn for balance.
I know in love it’s hard to be Everything that someone else could ever need While holding onto “wild and free”
Wild and free Wild and free Wild and free Wild and free
But there are certain types of love that require obligation. “Needed You” weaves bitterness and compassion together with the opening salvo,
Yeah I turned out fine It’s what we do I spent my time looking for clues So I became a wishing well And I don’t need water Is what I tell myself
In this moving piano ballad, Cousins considers both the person she’s become and the inner child who needed nurturing. While the song seeks to find reconciliation between that vulnerable inner core and the people in our past who make us lock that core away, the song also invites us to empathize with the legacies of intergenerational trauma that can lead to a family’s failure to meet a child’s emotional needs. It’s an astonishing track, one that efficiently wraps years of therapy into four minutes.
“Denouement” is even more precise – an airy collection of word associations that invite us to fill in the blanks in the arc of a relationship.
Happenstance Vast expanse Circumstance Second glance Take a chance New romance Take my hand Can I have this dance
Cousins’ abstraction is delightful, a wry acknowledgment of how cliche love can be, even as we revel in its glorious highs (and pray that the lows stay away as long as possible – forever, ideally.) But the cycle eventually starts again – after all, we’re only human – and the dance can feel as familiar as it does wondrous.
That feeling extends to another shade of love: gratitude. “Borrowed Light” asks us to reflect on the ways we connect with everything around us, and to appreciate the all-too-brief length of time we have to experience it.
I am borrowing light From the moon, who is borrowing light From the sun who comes back every time Every time
“Borrowed Light” is anchored by a questing piano line, an instrument that Cousins feels is her first love. As the instrument – a 1967 Baldwin grand that Cousins and long-time collaborator/producer Joshua Van Tassel fell in love with immediately – traverses the cosmos, Cousins is buttressed by a backing chorus momentarily, sublimely, at the song’s apex.
Conditions of Love – Vol 1 doesn’t offer many answers and, of course, the title hints at further dives into the topic. However, Cousins does offer one example of how to live, a waltz dedicated to her late friend and colleague, Koady Chaisson, “K’s Waltz.”
Your heart It did not give out or give in It gave everything It gave everything It gave everything It gave everything
As hard as it is, Cousins begs us to be as open as possible, to feel all of it – love and joy, yes, but also grief at partings that are inevitable, no matter what. It’s only when we push through our defenses to embrace radical openness, when we “give everything,” that we can say we have lived well.
We are so very excited to name Rose Cousins our March 2025 Artist of the Month. Dive into our exclusive interview with Rose all about the new album here, listen to Rose in conversation with her longtime friend Edie Carey on Basic Folk here, explore our Essential Rose Cousins Playlist below, and follow along on social media all month long as we go back into the BGS archives for anything and everything Rose Cousins.
(Editor’s Note: No Skips is a brand new feature from BGS that asks artists, songwriters, musicians, and industry professionals what albums they regard as perfect, with every track a masterpiece – i.e., No Skips!
For the first edition of the column, songwriter-artist-musician Adam Wright highlights Mark Knopfler’s seminal album, Shangri-La, as we look ahead to Wright’s own upcoming project, Nature of Necessity, coming later this year.)
There are only a few times in your creative life when someone’s work hits you so hard it rearranges your artistic DNA. I could probably count those moments for me on one hand.
Shangri-La was a big one. It told me that you can write away from the outside understanding of things. That you can start from the inside of your own knowledge and continue inward. It also taught me that you can write about anything you find interesting. That being understood is not as important as whether or not you’ve put something down worthy of working out for whomever decides to try to understand it. And that there are so many things to write about that are not falling in and out of love. (People probably could have stopped writing love songs in 1950 and we still would have too many.)
The depth and perspective of the storytelling, the crafted excellence of the writing and the sublimely tasteful musicianship make it, to me, Knopfler’s masterpiece. He’s done this on all of his albums, they all include brilliant gems of songs, but Shangri-La is just perfection from top to bottom. – Adam Wright
“5:15 AM” (Track 1)
Like all of the songs on this album, “5:15 AM” is exquisitely written and recorded. It is the story of a coal miner on his way home from the night shift discovering a murder victim who turns out to be involved with organized crime. It is chock-full of lingo and references to specifics about gambling machines, nightclubs, and lots of mining terms. The way Mark weaves all of this language into lyricism and brings it back to the tragic lives of the coal miners at the end is exceptional and beautiful writing. The recording is gorgeous and still somehow earthy as dirt. Just a masterclass in songcraft.
“Boom, Like That” (Track 2)
“Boom, Like That” is about the rise of Ray Kroc from a milkshake salesman to a fast food emperor. Like “5:15 AM,” there are plenty of specific references in this one. “Going to San Bernardino, ring a ding ding. Milkshake mixes, that’s my thing now.” You’re in the middle of the beginning of a story right off the bat. I love songs from the character’s perspective and few writers do that as well as Knopfler.
The movie The Founder was filmed in my hometown of Newnan, Georgia. I noticed the town when I saw it, so I looked it up and read a bit about the filming. While the song was inspired by the book about Kroc, I’d read the movie was actually inspired by the song. Even if the song weren’t so well-written, the riff at the end of the chorus is enough to keep any guitar player happily busy for days.
“All That Matters” (Track 11)
Much of Shangri-La is written from the perspective of the characters in its songs. The title track and “All That Matters” seem to be more personal. “All That Matters” is just a sweet, simple song from a father to his children. Again, beautifully written and pretty as porcelain. It has some surprising chordal and melodic turns in the B section to juxtapose the nursery rhymey-ness of the verses. Just perfect. And a nice respite from the mostly cynical tone of much of the album.
“Stand Up Guy” (Track 12)
“Brew the coffee in a bucket/ Double straight man and banjo/ If you don’t got the snake oil/ Buster, you don’t got a show.”
Again, you’re right smack dab in the middle of someone’s story. This time it’s a musician in a group of traveling, Victorian-era pitchmen. They apparently have teamed up with “the Doctor” who peddles snake oil medicine to townspeople and does it well enough to keep them fed on beefsteak and whiskey. Just wonderfully interesting, both lyrically and musically.
If you wanted to become a very good songwriter (or musician or producer, for that matter), you could only study Shangri-La for years and get a very long way toward the goal. I’ve been mining this album for inspiration for twenty years. It always gives me something more.
(Editor’s Note: This special episode of Basic Folk featuring Gary Louris is guest-hosted by singer-songwriter and friend of the podcast Mark Erelli.)
You probably know Gary Louris as the leader of The Jayhawks – or as they refer to themselves, “a band from Minnesota.” The Jayhawks are pioneers of roots rock, alt-country, and Americana. Whatever you wanna call it, they’ve been making records where rock, pop, country, and other forms of American roots music overlap since the mid-1980s.
But Louris’s hidden superpower is that he’s kind of like a musical Swiss Army knife – he’s basically got a creative skill for any application. Want him and his band to serve as accompanists for some of the most distinctive singer-songwriters, like Wesley Stage and Joe Henry? He can do that. Looking for achingly perfect, near-fraternal harmonies on hit songs like Counting Crows’ “Mr. Jones”? He can (and did) do that. If you’re Tedeschi Trucks Band or The Chicks and looking for someone to write you some catchy, melodic, roots-pop songs? Gary’s your guy. If that’s not enough, he has also produced records for artists like Dar Williams, The Sadies, and The Jayhawks, too. Whatever your musical need may be, chances are that Gary Louris can do it.
In between all these varied musical roles, Louris has also found time to release several solo albums, the newest of which – Dark Country – was released earlier this month. He recorded it mostly solo in his home studio and the word on the street is that this collection of songs, inspired by his wife, is his most intimate and romantic album yet. I’ve been a big fan of Gary Louris for basically my entire adult life and enjoyed our wide-ranging Basic Folk conversation, touching on the way technical limitations can shape an artist’s style, what he’s learned from a career’s worth of collaborations, his process working on his new solo album, the relationship between versatility and longevity, and what the influence of romance on his songwriting looks like now, in the fifth decade of his music career.
It may look rough around the edges, but Ron Pope’s journey through life encapsulates the American dream. He buffs out those spots, uncovering a hefty dose of humility, wisdom, and empowerment on his 11th studio record — American Man, American Music.
On it, the New Jersey-born, Georgia-raised singer uncovers moments from his childhood (like waking up before school to unload semi trucks) to the present day that have shaped him into the man he is and made his musical dreams a reality. But despite its title, the album is anything but exclusionary. Just like our nation’s diversity, American Man, American Music is a patchwork quilt of sounds, stories and experiences that serve to remind us that we’re all dealing with the same struggles and desires no matter what we look like or where we came from.
“I want to make music that other people can take and put into the moments in their lives,” says Pope. “The goal is that if I’m doing it right they’ll feel less alone. I want to put that back into the universe because I’ve taken so much of it out that it’s part of what buoyed me to get me to this point.”
This manifests itself in heartfelt vignettes centered around his family and recently discovered meaning of “home” on songs like the ode to his wife, “In The Morning With the Coffee On,” as well as “Mama Drove a Mustang,” an homage to his mom’s “let it ride” attitude that he wound up carrying into his own musical pursuits. But he’s also not afraid to get political on songs like “Klonopin Zombies,” a story about losing his grandmother that directly calls out the callousness of the pharmaceutical industry and sees him painfully pleading, “I swear there must be a heaven, ’cause where the hell else would someone like you go?”
Speaking by phone from his Nashville home between a mid-morning job and picking his daughter up from school, Pope spoke with BGS about home, family, platforming the next generation of artists and the experience that make up American Man, American Music.
You duet with Taylor Bickett on “I’m Not The Devil.” What spurred you to bring her aboard for it?
Ron Pope: Lately I’ve been finding so much inspiration in new artists. Growing up you tend to fetishize the stuff that came before you, almost like hero worship. Luckily I’ve come up in an era where so many of my contemporaries are masters, from Jason Isbell to John Moreland, which is really cool. But now I’m at a phase in my life where I’m getting more and more inspired by the artists coming in behind us. I remember first hearing Taylor’s songs, reading her lyrics, and seeing people making posts about sunsets and storms with her songs in them and was blown away. That’s what I love about music – you’re always finding new ways to be inspired.
What are your thoughts on the practice of platforming younger artists and what you stand to benefit from it as well?
If you make records your whole life, it’s going to be an ongoing challenge to find things that keep you engaged and excited about making music. It’s like a game that I’m always playing with myself. I want to find things about music that make me feel the way I did when I was a kid. Sometimes when people imagine an artist, they assume you’re only listening to people who sound like the same handful of songs that they know and that’s it, but I listen to all different sorts of music. Just the other night I was making pasta with my daughter in our kitchen listening to Dean Martin. On any given day I’ll move from that to some Tony Rice, Jason Isbell’s new song, Turnpike Troubadours, people like Taylor on Instagram, and then John Prine. I find inspiration everywhere and love that the music I make still feels fun and exciting because of it.
You just mentioned your daughter. I know family plays a big role on this record, from “In The Morning With the Coffee On,” to “Klonopin Zombies,” “Mama Drove a Mustang,” and others. Mind telling me about how that helps to serve as a through line on this project?
The central message is that we all share so many of the same sorts of experiences. For instance, in “Klonopin Zombies” I’m talking about this point in my life when my grandmother passed away eight days after my grandfather, leaving me wildly devastated. In life, we’re all going to experience powerful loss in that way; it’s just a matter of if it has happened to you yet or not. It’s the nature of living. My goal for doing that was to reach people on a more general level. If you are blessed enough to love people, then one day you will suffer because you lose people.
When I was first starting out, one of the complaints that music industry people would have about my music was that my songs were too specific and didn’t feel general enough, which was weird because for me those are the [kind of] songs that I always felt the most attached to.
Think about the Eagles’ – “Standing on the corner Winslow, Arizona/ Such a fine sight to see/ It’s a girl, my lord, and a flatbed Ford/ Slowin’ down to take a look at me…” or James Taylor’s – “Just yesterday morning, they let me know you were gone/ Suzanne, the plans they made put an end to you.” You’re in the room, but you don’t know who he’s talking to or why. It’s like, how many times in your life have you watched someone struggle with the expectations people put on them? Even though he’s telling a very personal and very specific story, you’re brought in and it reminds you that there’s a human being on the other end of this.
We got to go to all these places and meet a lot of people, and what I have found as I have done that is most people want the same things – they want opportunities for themselves and for their children. They want to know that they’re safe, and that their kids are safe and are going to get educated. We have a lot more in common than we do that separates us, which can be hard to see when you’re just watching videos of people yelling or complaining about how differently they believe your neighbor is.
How does that idea tie into the album’s title – American Man, American Music?
It’s inherently political to say “I am an American man and this is American music.” It’s inherently political, but I didn’t want to make something to bash people over the head, because it’s hard to write stories that are both protest songs that feel like they matter and are actually good songs. So I decided to, with the exception of “I Gotta Change (Or I’m Gonna Die)” – which is a pretty open rebuke of the pharmaceutical industry expresses my anger towards it about the opioid crisis – I try to speak in more sweeping terms and not focus in on the things that I was angry about, instead focusing more on humanity and openness.
I’m following myself from when I was a child in these stories all the way to this moment in my life. I’m singing about the car my mother drove when I was six years old in “Mama Drove a Mustang,” then I’m singing a little prayer for my family that I wrote while I was out on the road in “The Life In Your Years” or how my wife and I have been together for almost 18 years on “I Pray I’ll Be Seeing You Soon.” It makes me realize that I have lived the American dream.
I’m just a regular person from a blue-collar family born to very good-hearted, well-intentioned teenage parents who didn’t have a lot of resources and did their best with the opportunities that were in front of them. There was no reason to believe at the start of my story that I would end up in this place. All of that is in there because I am an American and I am an American man, and I am making American music, but I don’t mean any of that to be exclusionary. So many people that are using all of those words do so to exclude others and I have lived the American dream and want others to be able to do the same. On this album I wanted to focus on telling great stories that highlighted my journey and my humanity and what it took for me to get to this place where I got to as a way of showing that I don’t think it’s something that we should hold hostage. We should want other people to be able to reach these things in a nation built by immigrants on stolen land.
What does “home” mean to you – both as a physical place and as an idea – in relation to this album?
My mom loved us a lot, but we also moved often, which can be destabilizing. When I got to the point in my life where I was out on the road I almost felt engineered to do it, because I never had a real sense of home growing up. When I went on tour it felt like I was supposed to be there, which made it easy to wake up whether I was in Lincoln, Nebraska; Minneapolis, Milwaukee, Pittsburgh, or Pompano Beach. For a long time I thought you had to live that way to write songs.
At one point I was living in New York and hung out with my wife during a break from the road, who at that point I’d known since we were kids in Georgia, but had never dated. Suddenly everything changed and I started feeling her no matter where I was and yearned to be back in New York. I didn’t feel at ease unless I was with her, before realizing that she had become home for me. I’d never understood that homesick feeling that others get until then.
I feel that even more now with our little girl. It’s different, because my wife chose me and knew what I was and what I wasn’t, whereas we chose to bring our daughter into this world. Because of that I feel an even stronger pull from home than I have in the past because this little girl doesn’t care that I sing songs for people, and at the end of the day she doesn’t need that – she just needs me to be her father. It’s important that I’m able to make a living with my music, but it doesn’t make up for the fact that I wasn’t there to witness her losing her first tooth and other core memories. You have to grapple with that every day if you’re going to do this for a living. At the end of my life, if people say I’m a family man before they say I’m a musician, then I did it right.
What has the process of bringing American Man, American Music to life taught you about yourself?
There are points in the process of making any record where you look at yourself in the mirror and ask “Am I full of shit? Or can I actually land this thing?” The content on this album, what I’m talking about, it felt heavier and deeper than some of what I’ve done in the past. And I hate the idea of taking myself too seriously. At the end of the day, I’m an entertainer; everyone who makes music is supposed to be one, no matter how much they call themselves poets and stare at their expensive loafers oh-so-thoughtfully. Whether you’re Bob Dylan or Jackie Wilson or Tom Waits, at your core, you’re fundamentally the same as a clown or a breakdancer. Your job is to bring people joy, to entertain them. Walking around with this understanding has always made me sort of sick to my stomach whenever I find myself taking any of this noisemaking I do too seriously.
But on this album? I surprised myself. We are making music about serious things and I didn’t feel embarrassed or disgusted by it. It’s serious because it’s supposed to be serious; I’m not being a self-important asshole. Somebody needs to talk about the opioid epidemic and no one else was doing it in a way that I felt satisfied with. I did it because I felt like I had to, not to feed some inflated notion I had of myself as a capital A “artistè.” So I guess I learned that I’m not full of shit. Or at least, not entirely full of shit.
Answering this question became one of the main themes in my lyrics over the last several years – especially on my new album, Anything At All. After touring consistently for the first 15-20 years of my music career, I finally bought a house in South Philadelphia. Ten years later, my family and I relocated to my hometown, Lancaster, Pennsylvania. Before moving back to Lancaster, most of the places I lived felt kind of like a coat rack. Sure, most of my belongings were there, but I knew I’d be traveling again soon – things that felt centering or “home-like” to me existed outside of the confines of a space.
My current life is a lot different than that time. Now I am a husband, a dad of two young kids, a carpenter, and a part of my local community. I spend a lot of time trying to build a comfortable and consistent home life for myself and my family. My idea of what a home means is changing yet again. I’ve compiled a few songs that encompass the various meanings of “home” to me. – Denison Witmer
“Homesick” – Kings of Convenience
I think this is one of the best opening tracks on any album. The way the two guitars immediately start walking down the scale is captivating. My favorite lyrics are the last few: “A song for someone who needs somewhere to long for/ Homesick because I no longer know where home is…” It makes me think about the many days I’ve spent in headphones traveling in trains or tour vans, leaning my head against the window and listening to music that made me feel at home.
“Rene And Georgette Magritte With Their Dog After The War” (Original Acoustic Demo) – Paul Simon
I put this song on almost every mix I make. This is Paul Simon at his finest – just him and a guitar. In this story we follow Rene and Georgette Magritte as they reflect on the differences between their time in New York City and their lives in Europe during WWII. Ordinary moments like opening dresser drawers or window-shopping trigger memories of home.
“Just A Song Before I Go” – Crosby, Stills, & Nash
Starting with a crash cymbal and leading right into a fuzzy guitar riff, this song has an instant warm vibe. I’ve always loved the way Graham Nash leans into writing about his life as a musician/songwriter. There’s a risk that it might not be relatable to a wider audience, yet he always finds a way to make the feeling universal. The lyrics “When the shows were over/ We had to get back home/ When we opened up the door/ I had to be alone…” connect deeply with me.
There were a lot of times on tour that I felt like I was turning into a ghost – passing through towns and people with no real sense of deeper connection or longevity. No real sense of home. Sometimes weeks would pass with mostly small talk and I would lose sight of who I was. Finally getting home, dropping my bags, closing a door behind me, and spending a week alone in silence was just what I needed to recoup.
“In Tall Buildings” (Live) – Gillian Welch
A lovely song written about returning to and centering your life around the things that really matter to you. I love the lyrics “When I’m retired/ My life is my own/ I made all the payments/ It’s time to go home/ And wonder what happened/ Betwixt and between/ When I went to work in tall buildings.” It’s a beautiful reflection on the things that we leave behind either knowingly or unknowingly when we get swept up in the paths our lives take. Gillian Welch’s vocal delivery is always beautiful. The way she can take any song and filter it through her own style with honesty and sincerity is incredible.
“A House With” – Denison Witmer
Yes, adding one of my own songs here. It fits with the theme. Mid-COVID lockdown, my wife and I got really into two things: birding and plants. We did everything we could to get birds to visit our yard. We did everything we could to green the outside and inside of our house. This led to hanging bird feeders all over the place and planting everything from shrubs to trees to lots (and I mean lots) of indoor plants.
This song started as kind of a joke. I often walk around my house playing a small classical guitar and making up goofy songs to make my wife and kids laugh. This song started that way — I was watching the birds on our feeder and naming them as I saw them, then I went from room to room naming the plants we have in our window sills. I recorded an iPhone voice memo and forgot about it. I’m not sure what motivated me to share it with Sufjan (who produced my new album and this track), but I think it was because I knew he is a fan of concrete nouns and words that are interesting phonetically. He ended up choosing this from the batch of demos I presented to him. I am glad he did, because it’s one of my favorite songs on the album.
Sufjan didn’t like the original lyrics of the last verse… I remember him saying, “In the first two verses you are telling us what you are doing and how it fills your heart, but you never tell us why. You should try to answer that question for yourself.” I rewrote the ending and it was at that moment that things clicked into place for me.
“Take Me Home, Country Roads” – John Denver
You can’t really go wrong with the earnest nature of John Denver. I love the lilting quality of this song – lyrics about longing juxtaposed against the happy upbeat sound. It’s a love song to a place. I have a lot of respect for John Denver, because he was always unapologetically himself. He talked about how he wanted to not just entertain people, but also touch them. I think he understood the magic of music and connection. Listening to John Denver also makes me think about my dad because he was his favorite musician.
This is one of the more serious – and important – conversations I’ve had so far on Only Vans and I was lucky enough to get to have it with two good friends. Brendon Anthony is the newly named VP of Big Loud Texas and a brilliant fiddler. Jon Randall is a hit songwriter, producer, and co-founder of Big Loud Texas. We talk about things like the Texas music scene, the politics of live music, product versus legacy, and the impact of AI.
Here is another Only Vans recording in front of a live audience at MusicFest at Steamboat in Colorado. Thank you so much to John Dickson and everyone at MusicFest for making this happen!
Today I am joined by two amazing human beings that I’ve known for over a decade (and a half…?), Brendon Anthony and Jon Randall. Brendon Anthony has recently been named the Vice President of Big Loud Texas, which is a record label that was founded by Randall and Miranda Lambert. It is a branch of the Big Loud record label that has artists such as Lambert, Hardy, and Hailey Whitters to name a few. Before that, Brendon was the director of the Texas Music Office and was instrumental in the creation of BMI Texas and the Texas Music Incubator rebate program, which supports music venues in Texas with over $20 million in tax rebates. We talk about a lot of other great things Brendon has done for Texas music and music-friendly communities, and even I was fascinated by it and learned something new. You can also find him playing fiddle on stages with people like Pat Green!
Jon Randall, co-founder of Big Loud Texas, has some hits you may know as a songwriter, including “Whiskey Lullaby,” “Tin Man,” and many of your favorite new Hold My Beer Volume II tracks by Wade Bowen and Randy Rogers. His producer credits are equally impressive: Dierks Bentley, Parker McCollum, Miranda, Jack Ingram, Pat Green – you get the picture.
These two guests are funny, down-to-earth, approachable, and they truly care about art in the midst of a time I’ve been referring to as “The Wild West” of music. When Jon also called it “the Wild West,” I almost fell off my chair with validation. Don’t forget to subscribe and share this episode!
Thank you so much again to Jon and Brendon and to Dirt Trail Entertainment for sponsoring these very special and very cold MusicFest episodes. Thanks to our show sponsors, Hand Drawn Pressing & CH Lonestar Promo, too!
Singer-songwriter Lilly Hiatt has an interesting way of working melodies and a down-to-earth way of telling stories about her life and about how she sees the world. All of her albums have cool, crunchy guitar parts that take folk songwriting to a rockin’ level. On her new album, Forever, her diverse influences are woven into songs that touch on everything from relationships to anxiety and mental health to good old-fashioned rock and roll.
In our Basic Folk conversation, we talked about the lessons that Lilly learned growing up the daughter of legendary songwriter John Hiatt and what it meant to her to see her dad go through the ups and downs of the music business while having the humility and self-belief to keep going. She also talks about how she thinks about herself as a performer – and how that’s changed since the pandemic. Before the pandemic Hiatt had a couple of really big records (Trinity Lane, 2017 and Walking Proof, 2020) that gained a lot of hype and attention. Once coronavirus hit, she had to sit in the house and ask the big questions like a lot of us did. She sat with the loneliness, alienation, and uncertainty.
You can hear in our interview just how much mutual respect and admiration we have for each other and how much belief we have in one another, not only as songwriters, but as women and as people who are in recovery. Very LYLAS vibes, lots of laughs.
Now, our premiere roundup is pretty stellar each and every week – if we do say so ourselves – but this week feels especially excellent!
Below, you’ll find a slew of bluegrass song and video premieres. First, check out “Paris” by Aaron Burdett (a longtime rootsy singer-songwriter and recent addition to the Steep Canyon Rangers), who took an offhand comment about one of the world’s most-visited cities and turned it into a song. Greensboro, North Carolina, string duo Chatham Rabbits bring a track from their brand new album, Be Real With Me, which released today; it’s called “One Little Orange.”
Multi-instrumentalist and singer Jesse Smathers – who you may know from the Lonesome River Band – releases his solo debut today, as well. It’s his version of “Sleepy Eyed John” that draws inspiration from his friend, banjo player Gene Parker. Plus, Grammy Award winner and in-demand bluegrass bassist Shelby Means is also stepping into the spotlight with her first-ever solo music, “Streets of Boulder,” a burning heartbreak track which features her Golden Highway bandmates Molly Tuttle, Kyle Tuttle, Bronwyn Keith-Hynes, and even more names you’ll recognize.
In a similar sonic space, Cristina Vane previews the title track for her upcoming album, Hear My Call, with an official video for the song. It’s an old-timey number built around clawhammer banjo with a tinge of blues and a dash of Americana – and it also features the inimitable Molly Tuttle. Folk duo Edie Carey & Sarah Sample can be found below as well, returning to their late 2024 release, Lantern in the Dark: Songs of Comfort and Lullabies, with a new video for its title track, “Lantern.”
To round us out, just in time for Valentine’s Day Hudson Mueller shines on his new track, “Love Is Love,” which celebrates love in all its forms and no matter who may be its recipient or subject. And Jeremy Dion has a bit of adoring tunnel vision on “All I See Is You,” a song with a video that celebrates all of the love and loved ones in his life.
It’s a full slate of impeccable roots songs and videos! You know what we think… You Gotta Hear This.
Aaron Burdett, “Paris”
Artist:Aaron Burdett Hometown: Saluda, North Carolina Song: “Paris” Release Date: February 14, 2025 Label: Organic Records
In Their Words: “I like shiny things, new things. I always think that new thing is going to make something different. It does, but just for a few moments, and then I’m the same and everything around me is the same. There wasn’t any real change, I only distracted myself briefly. ‘Paris’ is a song about yearning, looking outside of oneself, and hoping there’s more out there in some exotic place. It might be the next town down the road or the big city two states over, or maybe even somewhere across the mountains and an ocean. I hear a longing in this song now, but I also hear hope. My bandmate Barrett said ‘I’ve got a feeling about Paris’ a couple years ago during a soundcheck at the Bijou Theater in Knoxville, and when I heard that, I did what I do and I wrote it down. That line grew into this tune.” – Aaron Burdett
Artist:Edie Carey & Sarah Sample Hometown: Colorado Springs, Colorado (Edie) and Sheridan, Wyoming (Sarah) Song: “Lantern” Album:Lantern in the Dark: Songs of Comfort and Lullabies Release Date: October 18, 2024 (album); February 14, 2025 (video) Label: Groundloop Records
In Their Words: “Written by our friends and Nashville songwriters Dustin Christensen and Jill Andrews, ‘Lantern’ was a song that Sarah brought to the table. Sarah and Dustin are longtime friends from the Salt Lake music scene and he played a major role as a musician and harmony arranger on our first album in 2014. We both fell in love with the melody, the message, and the harmony possibilities for this tune. It’s a song that says, ‘I’ve got you, no matter what.’ The ascending bridge sounds like someone stepping out of wreckage after a disaster, blinking their way back into the light: ‘Shadows falling / Sirens calling / I’ll be holding on to you.’ We didn’t originally intend for the album title to come from this song, but it was the perfect symbol for what we wanted this record to be: a light in the dark for when you’re feeling lost; a beacon to guide you back to the familiar and remind you that you’re never alone along the way.” – Edie Carey & Sarah Sample
Artist:Chatham Rabbits Hometown: Greensboro, North Carolina Song: “One Little Orange” Album:Be Real With Me Release Date: February 14, 2025
In Their Words: “My maternal grandfather Ronald holds a mythic place in my mind. He died from years of drug and alcohol abuse when I was just a kid. I only have one memory of him and it’s what I wrote the song about. I think it’s only natural to want to know more about your blood relatives as you get older. My genetics and personality are tied to those that came before me and I want to know as much about them as possible. My grandfather is no different. This is a song about trusting the limited memory you have, accepting that you’ll have to live from stories instead of the real thing, and recognizing that people can be both troubled and full of life.” – Sarah McCombie
Jeremy Dion, “All I See Is You”
Artist:Jeremy Dion Hometown: Boulder, Colorado Song: “All I See Is You” Album:Bend in the Middle Release Date: October 18, 2024 (album); February 14, 2025 (video)
In Their Words: “This is my favorite video to make so far and it welcomes the viewer all the way into my personal life. Since ‘All I See is You’ is a love song, I wanted to provide an unvarnished view of my own current experiences of love. Viewers will see some beautiful shots of nature juxtaposed with recently captured images of my home, my daughter, my husband, my dog, and some of my closest friends. It gives me warm fuzzies every time I see it and I hope it has the same effect on everyone.” – Jeremy Dion
Track Credits: Jeremy Dion – Guitar, lead vocals Kate Farmer – Backing vocals Christian Teele – Percussion Bradley Morse – Bass Kyle Donovan – Guitars John McVey – Guitars Enion Pelta-Tiller – Fiddle
Video Credits: Shot and produced by Daniel Herman, Mineral Sound.
Shelby Means, “Streets of Boulder” (Featuring Molly Tuttle, Kyle Tuttle)
Artist:Shelby Means Hometown: Folly Beach, South Carolina Song: “Streets of Boulder” (Featuring Molly Tuttle, Kyle Tuttle) Release Date: February 14, 2025
In Their Words: “I wrote this song in college. It was my first attempt to write a heartbreak song and it became the first original song I performed in a band. In 2008, I was asked by my professor of world music to assemble a bluegrass band to represent the United States at an International Folk Music contest in Nitra, Slovakia. I formed High Altitude Bluegrass band and taught them ‘Streets of Boulder.’ Courtney Hartman, Sterling Masat, Reid Buckley, and my brother, Jacob Means, played in that band and helped create the instrumental line that is repeated throughout the song.
“I really wanted Jacob to play mandolin on this recording and he did a great job in the studio with Jerry Douglas, Bryan Sutton, Ron Block, and Bronwyn Keith-Hynes. I invited Molly Tuttle and Kyle Tuttle to sing harmonies with me and we spent one afternoon in a hotel room with Ethan Standard, our front-of-house engineer, recording the harmony vocals. That room sounded pretty darn good! After a few years of touring together we have developed a unique vocal blend and I think it suits this song perfectly. ‘Streets of Boulder’ has been performed live a handful of times with Molly Tuttle & Golden Highway over the 2024 Down the Rabbit Hole tour.” – Shelby Means
Track Credits: Shelby Means – Lead vocal, bass, songwriter Bryan Sutton – Guitar Jacob Means – Mandolin Ron Block – Banjo Bronwyn Keith-Hynes – Fiddle Jerry Douglas – Dobro Molly Tuttle – Harmony vocals Kyle Tuttle – Harmony vocals
Hudson Mueller, “Love is Love”
Artist:Hudson Mueller Hometown: Houston, Texas Song: “Love is Love” Album:Welcome to Earth Release Date: February 14, 2025 (single); March 28, 2025 (album)
In Their Words: “This is a love song – but not just about the romantic kind we typically celebrate on Valentine’s Day. It’s about radical inclusivity. We each get to define love for ourselves and decide who it applies to. Love can extend to neighbors, friends, and even those who may not look, think, or believe as we do. This song was inspired by my friends Bird and Carsten. We were lucky enough to attend two of their three wedding celebrations (parties) in New York and Germany. Each was a beautiful tribute to the bond between two incredible souls who just happened to share the same gender. Initially, the song leaned more into its LGBTQ+ theme, with a verse about Carl and Steve, Joan and Janet. But in the end, that felt a little too on the nose. Still, the sentiment remains: ‘Find the place where your love ends and then extend love just a little bit more.'” – Hudson Mueller
Jesse Smathers, “Sleepy Eyed John”
Artist:Jesse Smathers Hometown: Floyd, Virginia Song: “Sleepy Eyed John” Release Date: February 14, 2025 Label: Mountain Home Music Company
In Their Words: “My friend Gene Parker, the legendary banjo player of Lost & Found legacy, inspired my version of ‘Sleepy Eyed John.’ Originally written by Kentucky fiddler Tex Atchison and made a hit by country singer Johnny Horton, I wanted to give this fun, bouncy number a suitable mountainous string band flavor. I hope you enjoy listening to it, as much as I did picking and singing it!” – Jesse Smathers
Track Credits: Jesse Smathers – Guitar, lead vocal Hunter Berry – Fiddle Corbin Hayslett – Banjo Nick Goad – Mandolin, harmony vocal Joe Hannabach – Upright bass Patrick Robertson – Harmony vocal Dale Perry – Harmony vocal
Cristina Vane, “Hear My Call”
Artist:Cristina Vane Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee Song: “Hear My Call” Album:Hear My Call Release Date: February 21, 2025
In Their Words: “‘Hear My Call’ was written on tour and is the title of my album as well, because I feel that it reflects this refocused sense of purpose and intention I was channeling both in my life and in the writing of this record. It’s an assertion, a shift from my constant role of observer to someone with something to say herself. Molly Tuttle sings and plays guitar on the track and she lends such a stunning flair to it, I’m so grateful for her mastery!” – Cristina Vane
Photo Credit: Cristina Vane by Stacie Huckeba; Shelby Means by Hunter McRae;
Although the ever-enigmatic Sam Moss is not a great swimmer, he named his latest album Swimming. The folk singer with a gentle demeanor is back with thoughtful songs and captivating melodies. Hailing from New England, Sam has carved out a unique niche in the folk world, blending naturalistic themes with an introspective approach to songwriting. We explore how his New England roots continue to influence his music – despite his current residence being Virginia – and how his upbringing in a family of visual artists has shaped his artistic sensibilities.
Sam also talks about how movement and the natural world inspire his songwriting, if not with more oblique lyrics. We dig into his latest album Swimming, where he boldly embraces more direct lyrical expressions; we discuss the balance between mood and narrative in his work, too. Our Basic Folk conversation touches on his journey from a shy young musician to a confident performer, as well, thanks in part to the encouragement of close friends like Jackson Emmer. He counts Emmer, who he played with in old-time duo The Howling Kettles, as one of his greatest inspirations for following his own creative arrow in music.
Elsewhere in the episode, we explore Sam’s passion for woodworking, a skill he honed as a respite from musical burnout. He describes the satisfaction of crafting tangible objects and how this practice complements his musical endeavors. We also really dive into his feelings around the word “gentle,” which is often used to describe his music and persona. He doesn’t actually mind being known as a gentle person– in fact, he hopes people do find his music soft and tender and, in that gentleness, that they still leave feeling his songs’ striking impact.
Photo Credit: Lead image by Jake Xerxes Fussell; alternate image by Alaina Shefelton.
Husband-and-wife indie-folk duo Drew & Ellie Holcomb have been making music together for 20 years. Ellie was a member of Drew Holcomb & the Neighbors when they first collaborated on a record in 2005 (now out of print). That was followed by 2007’s A Million Miles Away, which was then succeeded by something like their breakout, Passenger Seat, in 2008.
Over the years since, they’ve built up the Neighbors – and their cohort of friends, neighbors, fans, and listeners – into a more than tidy little paradise of a musical cul-de-sac, with more than a dozen releases (together and separately) and amassing more than a hundred million streams.
This year, the pair put out their first full-length duo album together, as equal fronting artists with the Neighbors behind them. Memory Bank, released on January 24, looks forward while looking back – a hallmark and through line of the duo, their group, and their creative output across their two-decade career. So many of the songs on Memory Bank seem to speak to the longevity they have – “Rain or Shine,” “Shut Up and Dance,” “Never Gonna Let You Go,” “Bones” – there’s a wisdom and perspective in this album that speaks to the distance they’ve traveled together. As well as denoting the upcoming miles they have yet to cover as partners, parents, and musical collaborators.
With the release of Memory Bank, we thought it was the perfect opportunity to stroll down memory lane with Drew & Ellie Holcomb, to contrast their latest project and the artists they have become now with their early projects and the artists they were then, in our most recent edition of First & Latest.
I wonder, as you put together this Memory Bank, what memories from 2008 and that first album came up for you? How did that nearly 20-year history of making music filter into this project and its songs?
Drew Holcomb: Honestly, Passenger Seat was not even the first project. There was a record in 2005 called Washed in Blue that Ellie sang on that has been scrubbed from the internet. We put on an album called A Million Miles Away in 2007, which had a bunch of songs like “I Like to Be with Me When I’m With You” and “Hung the Moon” and others. I think the younger version of us was much less confident, in a way. We were flying blind. We hadn’t made a lot of records yet and you don’t know what you’re doing in the studio. We didn’t know what we were doing as songwriters. Ellie was just a member of the band at the time.
Ellie Holcomb: I was a neighbor with benefits. The starkest difference for me between Passenger Seat in 2008 and Memory Bank in 2025 is an open-handedness and a freedom that comes with the death of ego and also with a general posture of curiosity and gratitude.
You are both prolific creators – together and separately – how have you balanced your individual musical identities with your collective work over that time period? Do you find it to be an easy balance or a tricky one?
EH: One of my favorite things about us doing music both together and separately is that there’s a massive amount of respect for each other. The reason it took us 20 years to write and record an album together is because we’ve always honored that artistic and creative space with each other. We write really differently, we create really differently. I think that mutual respect and space that we’ve given each other made space for us to make what we we’ve released into the world now – and I love it.
DH: My only addition is a short answer: No, it’s not an easy balance. It’s very tricky, but it’s worth it.
I think our relationship definitely manifests itself through the music. I think on the one hand, there’s like the aspiration – love songs are often about the love that you hope that you have. So, when you’re young and you’re speaking about when you get older, you’re making a promise to yourself and to each other about the kind of love you hope for. There’s also a bit of the truths of your own personalities make it into songs.
There’s clearly a mission and a message in your music, and I think that’s part of your staying power as artists and part of why over so many releases in so many iterations – as a couple, with the Neighbors, as solo artists, as collaborators on outside projects – your songs continue to resonate with audiences in such an authentic and down to earth way. I wonder how much of that encouragement folks get from your music that you get, yourselves? I can see that being a big part of how you’ve gotten this far and are still moving forward.
EH: I’d say we talk to our kids a lot about what a stage is for and we always tell them that a stage is to bring joy. It’s a shared space where our stories mingle together. Music is a bridge builder. Our mission, if you will, with music is that it would help people connect to their own story and that it would help people connect to everybody else and feel a little less alone. There’s this beautiful quote that says we decorate space with art and we use music to decorate time. We feel so deeply grateful that people have used our songs to decorate like the time and the seasons of their lives, sorrow, joy, road trips, family gatherings, etc.
What will you take with you in your “memory bank” as you move forward, as you stare down the next 17 years of making music together? What do you see as your touchstones – or, alternatively, what do you hope you’ll look back and recall if we were to have this conversation again in 20 more years?
DH: Our memory bank as we move forward in the next 17 years of making music together, we are always trying to keep growing. I didn’t know how to sing harmony until this record. I learned how to sing harmony, not with the intention of making a record, but because I wanted to learn. Ellie’s learning piano with similar intentions. There are always new songs to find.
When you were making and releasing Passenger Seat, where did you see yourself now, all these years later? Was this always the goal? Did it seem like a pipe dream that you’d still be doing this together? Or was it inevitable?
DH: Music was definitely not inevitable. When I started making music, Ellie was a school teacher with no intention of being a professional musician. So we have just taken it a year at a time.
Photo Credit: Courtesy of the artists.
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